Crimson's Captivation by LLC Melange Books Read Free Book Online Page A

meet again,
Caspian. And so your hunt isn’t in vain, I am Viktor, but you will
know me, for I wear the crown of death for you and your vile
brother—for any that have harmed Crimson. The sun had mercy on you
today but I will not.” With that, he dug into his horse’s side and
galloped south toward Karlberg Palace to confront Sophia.
    Caspian licked his wounds, picked the charred
skin from his cheeks and arms. He watched Viktor gallop across the
field. He mused aloud and the words seethed off his lips as a
noxious whisper, “Mercy is as modesty, in exile, my dear
prince.”
     

Chapter V
    ~ To Russia with War ~

    One would think the Baltic Sea couldn’t carry
enough ships to hold ten thousand men, let alone an army of men
numbering near the seventy thousand mark with all their supplies
and provisions, but she did. King Charles XII made his way to the
stern of his lead galleon. There floating behind him on a sea of
translucent water was his navy, two hundred ships strong. Their
sails filled with the cool august air and the blue and yellow
pennants of Sweden flapped toward Russia, their destination. The
wind was strong and at their backs as they floated toward their
enemy.
    King Charles XII was an astute seaman, and
while his generals felt the gods were on their side, suggesting
that if they weren’t then the sea would rage and slam the ships
into each other, the young king understood that the wind currents
pushed west to the north and east toward the south over the Baltic.
The Siberian winter would wreak havoc on the northern waters before
she slowly dipped south.
    For this reason the generals struggled with
the king’s offensive nature, he never seemed to halt and let a
victory marinate; he was in their words, “always on the offensive.”
They questioned why he moved so quickly from outmaneuvering the
Danish at Copenhagen. His generals felt they should celebrate the
decisive victory that caused the Denmark-Norway alliance to
withdraw from the war in August of 1700, mere months after
declaring war.
    “I know this sea and I know men,” King
Charles had answered.
    He knew the sea would be his ally only for a
short number of weeks. He knew the warm air currents would narrow
and eventually squeeze the sea path, so that only a supply line
could be maintained, and even that wasn’t a certainty. The sea had
a penchant for becoming dreadful. At any moment the winds could
stall, the hurricanes could ravage and leave entire fleets at its
bottom. The sea had no oath to the men that travelled her; she had
no loyalty to men whatsoever.
    A general joined the king the stern of the
ship. “My king, the gods of wind favor us this day. Only Homer
could envision such a navy. Helen of Troy would be jealous of such
a show of force, and rightfully so. The sea has never looked as
beautiful as she does today. Our flags rule the open sea.”
    The king watched the wild sunset flicker on
the water’s surface, watched his ships lurch forward on his
self-proclaimed sea. “We are making excellent time, General, and
soon we will be at port in Riga. Then the real battle begins.
Denmark was just a test of our resolve, of our cunning. To be sure,
we weren’t lucky. We conquered, as we should have done. The
Russians, I fear, will be much more of a formidable opponent.”
    “None are in fear under the blue and yellow,
sir. The commanders still think we should have taken a diplomatic
approach. Our exploits at Copenhagen could have been used to our
advantage, wouldn’t you agree?”
    The king turned away from the general. “Of
diplomacy I say this: the sword has to do the best for it does not
jest.”
    The general looked upon the ships’ sails that
covered the horizon. They reminded him of a column of grounded
clouds, all embolden with the breath of the gods. In his heart, the
connection was as resolute as a chorus of angelic voices, blessing
Sweden with a quick and crucial conquest. The angelic songs filled
the sails and empowered his men.