ã€ŠKingdom of Iron: Tyrant&#x27;s Fallã€‹


 B1Ch1: A Normal Nights Work

    Matthew Irons, the most recent employee of Mount Rainier Storage Security Solutions, woke up and groaned. Grey light filtered in through the curtains, forcing him to acknowledge the start of another day.

    It wasn¡¯t like he didn¡¯t enjoy the sunshine. He just didn¡¯t seem to be able to find any of it lately. Ever since they had moved him to the swing shift, he¡¯d had late night after late night, cruising the roads in his car and looking for something going wrong at one of the many storage facilities the company was supposed to keep safe. The facilities were usually quiet¡ªthank goodness¡ªbut that didn¡¯t exactly help him stay awake when the sun went down and the streetlights came on.

    Washington state¡¯s usual cheerful weather didn¡¯t exactly help him either. It was fall now, and the clouds had quickly taken over most of the skyline. He¡¯d known about the rain before he¡¯d moved out west, but a big part of him missed the wide open skies and the usual sunsets in Wyoming. Even after six months, he was still having trouble adjusting. Of course, even grey weather and a bad work schedule were better than what he¡¯d left behind.

    He grunted sourly and levered himself out of bed. The small apartment he¡¯d found was not exactly everything he had dreamed about before he¡¯d left the ranch. Basically, a converted motel room, it consisted of a bed, a table, and an old, overstuffed chair. The door opened straight out into the parking lot, where his old, beat-up Toyota was waiting for him. The Camry was a reliable vehicle, but it wouldn¡¯t inspire envy in most people. Still, as long as it had an engine, he had no real cause to complain.

    Matt shook the sleep out of his eyes and stretched. He yawned a little despite himself, and then rolled his arms a little. The soreness from sleeping on his arm wrong slowly faded, and he grudgingly took a brief look at the alarm clock on the stand beside his bed. He¡¯d somehow snoozed it enough to ignore the six o¡¯clock alarm; he¡¯d made it nearly to eight thirty.

    He heaved a sigh and stepped out of bed. With a minimum of grumbling, he pulled on his workout clothes and started rummaging for his running shoes. Grey or not, he wasn¡¯t planning on going the route of some of his more desk-bound coworkers. At least half of them were well on their way to their first heart attack at forty, and he figured it would be better to cut that off while he was still young.

    A gust of cold air greeted him as he opened the door, and Matt looked around the parking lot. It was mostly empty, of course. The ¡®apartment complex¡¯ where he rented was full of people who either commuted to Seattle, or teachers at the local schools. Most of them were gone by the time he woke up, even when he respected his alarm clock.

    Matt looked around and saw that the vehicles belonging to the other two night owls in the place were still there. One of them was an old Ford truck that belonged to a construction worker of some kind. He¡¯d occasionally nodded to the other man as they passed each other on their way to work. The other was a battered red Hyundai sedan that belonged to a nice lady who worked the night shift at the nearby hotel. The space reserved for the would-be landlord was empty. Mr. Delorno didn¡¯t spend his time in the rental office very much, not when he had five other properties to supervise.

    He took a deep breath, relishing the feel of the moist fall air. It was a pleasant difference from the drier, windswept place he¡¯d grown up in. Wyoming wasn¡¯t known for its humidity, after all. Then he turned along the road and started running. There was another swing shift waiting for him that night, and if he was going to get anything done, he needed to get started.

    About forty minutes later, Matt coasted to a stop outside his room, still breathing hard. He forced himself to stretch, hoping to relieve the aches creeping up his shins. It wasn¡¯t a good sign that his shoes were holding up, but he wanted to get just a little bit more mileage out of them before he bought his next pair.

    He was partway through his stretching routine when he heard his phone go off inside. Matt grunted, pulling the door open and making a beeline for the phone. He reached it on the third ring. ¡°Irons here.¡±

    ¡°Morning!¡± The voice on the other end of the line was distractingly cheerful. ¡°This is Mary Crowley from the Federal Gazette. I was hoping to take a few minutes of your time¡­¡±

    A journalist. Dread settled into his stomach. ¡°I¡¯d be happy to help, but I don¡¯t know what you would need to talk to me for. I¡¯m new in town.¡±

    ¡°Oh, I know that already.¡± The false cheerfulness was beginning to grate already. ¡°You were a student at Washington State University, correct?¡±

    Matt felt his breath catch. He forced his voice to stay even. ¡°Yes. Why do you ask?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m doing a story on the continued educational crisis. You graduated in civil engineering, correct?¡±

    ¡°A double major, actually. Civil engineering and history.¡± The conversation was quickly growing tiresome. ¡°I would have thought that you would be able to look all of this up on your own, or at least call the college directly. Why do you need to talk with me?¡±

    ¡°I did, actually. From what I was able to tell, you scored extremely well on all your exams.¡± She paused. ¡°As I understand it, you are currently working as a security guard?¡±

    Matt felt a stab of anger and resentment. He let a little steel leak into his voice. ¡°Is there something wrong with that, Ms. Crowley?¡±

    There was a long pause. He could picture her on the other end of the line, gathering her words for the next push. ¡°Mr. Irons, I feel like your story is important. If a graduate who has worked so hard has no options after his education, then people need to know¡ª¡±

    ¡°Everyone already knows, Ms. Crowley.¡± Matt felt an oppressive wave of weariness wash over him, followed just as quickly by memories of the desperate job search, the helpless anger. He shook it off and continued. ¡°I don¡¯t think there¡¯s anyone out there who doesn¡¯t realize that our society is broken. Our dreams aren¡¯t going to be coming true, Ms. Crowley, and they know. They know. They are just too busy trying to scrabble over each other for the scraps instead of trying to fix something so fundamentally broken.¡±

    Crowley was silent for another long moment. When she spoke again, her cheerfulness was gone. Irritation was showing under the cracks. ¡°You can¡¯t just say that, Mr. Irons. If you give up, then the chance to change things is gone.¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t think that another doomsaying listicle for the Gazette is going to change anything, Ms. Crowley.¡± Matt let that statement burn her a bit longer and then continued in an even voice. ¡°I am happy to make a fresh start here. Thank you for your interest, but I¡¯m done talking about this.¡±

    There was a long pause from the other end of the phone, and he wondered if he should finish his message by simply hanging up on the woman. He heard her mutter something under her breath, and then she responded, her voice tight with anger. ¡°Well, Mr. Irons, when you change your mind, you have my number. You can reach me at any time.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m sure I can.¡± Matt glanced at the alarm clock and nearly swore. If he was going to get the extra practice in at the range, he¡¯d have to move fast. ¡°If you¡¯ll excuse me, I need to go. Goodbye.¡±

    She said something approaching a farewell before he hung up, and Matt spent a few precious moments glaring at the cell phone before he tossed it back on the bed. He headed for the shower, trying not to snarl at himself over things that were long in the past. He had no hope of changing what had happened and had no intention of trying. Things were always better when you just accepted what was in front of you and moved forward with it.

    It wasn¡¯t like he had a choice, anyway.

    The grey ceiling overhead was constant in the Pacific Northwest, even as the sun went down.

    Matt always found that the hardest to accept. He felt like after a whole day of staring up at a sky that threatened rain, he should at least get some spectacular sunsets, or maybe some beautiful night skies full of stars. Instead, he got the chance to welcome another evening rainstorm. The drops pattered off his windshield as he drove slowly along the roads to the west of the town, cruising along at a snail¡¯s pace. His windshield wipers were doing a fine job keeping his vision clear; the rain wasn¡¯t heavy, like the sky didn¡¯t really have the heart to go all out yet. Maybe it would work up the motivation later.

    He didn¡¯t expect to see much of anything as he drove around town. His route included five different storage facilities; all he had to do was check in at each one to make sure that no one was getting up to anything. They were all old or outdated places, owned or rented by shipping companies too small to have the chance to lease a spot at a larger facility, so most of the time the only problems were caused by local teenagers getting up to some kind of mischief. Given the rain, he didn¡¯t expect many to be out tonight.

    Mostly, the drive just gave him time to think about life, which was why he hated the swing shift more than anything. Too much time in his own head, trying not to think about the past, and mostly failing. If he could have done it all again¡­

    The radio squawked at him, and Matt blinked in surprise. He reached over and grabbed it. ¡°This is Matt, on patrol. You got something?¡±

    ¡°Matt, we have a disturbance of some kind going on at the Puget Falls Storage facility. Go over and check it out. Over.¡±

    ¡°Gotcha, on my way.¡± Matt made a U turn and headed back up the road. The facility wasn¡¯t too far from him at the moment; with luck, he¡¯d be there in the next five to ten minutes, even with the rain. Most likely, it was just some high schoolers who had thought that playing hide and seek or smoking in the middle of a bunch of cargo containers sounded cool. He couldn¡¯t think of any other reason for anyone to be out there at this time of night. Most of the containers there would be empty, after all. It wasn¡¯t like some petty thief was going to sell them on the black market.

    He smiled a bit at the thought and caught sight of the turnoff for the facility through the trees. There was a sign too, though it looked like the pines had half overgrown it. The facility wasn¡¯t exactly a popular spot. Various shipping companies used it to store containers that were too old to be trustworthy on cargo ships or tractor trailers. Some truckers used it as an impromptu gathering spot, but other than that, there weren¡¯t many people who needed to use the old gravel road.

    His tires crunched along the gravel as he made his way through the woods. The headlights picked up the silhouettes of the trees and cast odd shadows. He instinctively slowed down, some part of him suddenly wary. Maybe it was just the continuing patter of the rain, or the way the road slewed back and forth through the trees, but something felt¡­ off.

    He let the car grind to a halt in front of the gates of the storage facility. They weren¡¯t anything particularly fancy, just the usual chain-link fence with a padlock and chain for the gate. There wasn¡¯t even any barbed wire at the top. Matt could see the hulking shapes of the unused cargo containers squatting out in the dark, the nearest of them highlighted by his headlights. There were lights further in attached to crude lampposts, illuminating small sections of rain and empty containers further in.

    For a moment, he stared at them, hoping to see some panicked teenagers sprinting for the woods. Then he grunted and checked his pistol. ¡°This is Matt, I¡¯m on site at the storage facility. I don¡¯t see¡ª¡±

    There was a sudden wash of flame from behind a container. An unearthly howling rose along with it, and Matt ducked down behind his dashboard. The fire faded, but there were yelps and yips. A second burst of fire followed, and he gritted his teeth.

    ¡°Cancel that, I think somebody is playing with fireworks or something. I¡¯m going to investigate.¡±

    He barely listened to the response over the radio as he kicked the door open and started for the fence. The average teenager could barely be trusted with a learner¡¯s permit and their own feelings, so adding small explosions into the mix rarely ended well. Rain or no rain, he wasn¡¯t going to risk the forest lighting up.

    The howls and other noises lent him some extra urgency. It didn¡¯t sound like anyone had been hit or hurt, but that just made it all that much worse. Heaven help the morons if some of them had gotten the bright idea to use dogs or cats as target practice. He was already picturing himself slapping cuffs on a bunch of sullen would-be psychopaths.

    The author''s narrative has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

    He didn¡¯t bother with unlocking the gate; it didn¡¯t take him long to pull himself over the fence. Matt dropped down on the far side of it, the ground giving slightly beneath his boots. The rain hadn¡¯t made things slippery enough to land him flat on his back, thankfully. All the same, he moved forward carefully. He left his flashlight off, hoping to stalk forward and take the group of idiots by surprise.

    A third wash of flame shot up through the night, close enough that he swore he could smell the burnt powder from it. The scent fizzed in his nostrils, and he snorted a little to clear them. He sped up, realizing that if he took too long, someone might really get hurt.

    He was still moving forward at speed when a shape swept past him, passing between two crates up ahead. It was moving fast, too fast to get a clear look at with the rain, especially since it didn¡¯t cross through one of the patches lit by the overhead lights. All the same, something about the speed and the shape raised the hairs on the back of his neck.

    He paused, hearing another flame whoosh to life further in. There was another pained howl, and Matt drew his pistol from his holster. The image of a bunch of scared teenagers no longer fit in his mind anymore. When he moved forward now, it was in a half-feral crouch, his eyes searching in the gloom.

    When he reached the spot where the shape had passed by, he saw a figure lying in the mud. Their clothes were odd; he could see the outline of some kind of robe. Matt was at their side without remembering the time it took to cross the space between. He reached out to shake them, hoping against hope that they were just too drunk to feel the chill of the rain and mud that soaked their clothes.

    His fingers touched something warm and slick at the body¡¯s neck. He brought his fingers to his nose and shuddered at the scent of blood.

    Careful to keep his voice low, he keyed his radio. ¡°This is Matthew Irons at the storage facility. I need backup. At least one person down. Over.¡±

    ¡°Wait, what? Are you serious?¡±

    There was another flame, and then another, and another. Each came in quick succession, and a chorus of howls erupted. Matt ignored the voice from the radio and lurched back into motion, leaving the body in the mud behind him.

    It took only a handful of long strides to bring him to the edge of a shipping container. He peeked around it and saw another figure stumbling into a patch of light, just two containers away.

    They were wearing some kind of wizard¡¯s robe, like they had stumbled out of a convention, or a Harry Potter meetup. He didn¡¯t recognize the cosplay, but the panicked, stunned look on the kid¡¯s face was instantly identifiable, even if it seemed like something was¡­off about him. The boy looked like he was maybe a freshman in high school, at the oldest. There were tears in the robe, and at least one scorched spot. Matt¡¯s grip on his pistol tightened as the kid slipped on the mud and fell. He watched them scramble a bit further, and then flip over onto their back as a second figure stepped into the light.

    This one was older, a woman in her mid forties. She was wearing a similar outfit, only stained blood red. There were no tears in her robe, and the look on her face was both chilling and confident. There was something off about her as well, something odd about her eyes. As the boy stared up at her, panting and afraid, she smiled.

    The boy swallowed and looked around as if to search for a way to escape. Then he looked back at her and scrambled back up against the nearest container as she stepped closer.

    The woman¡¯s smile grew wider. She stepped forward again, drawing a long, curved dagger at her waist. Another step, and she was holding it low and relaxed, as if she was getting ready to cut a pig¡¯s throat.

    Matt stepped out from behind the shipping container, his gun at the ready position. He was careful to not quite point it at her; lessons drilled into him since childhood would keep him from doing that until it was time to pull the trigger. ¡°Ma¡¯am, drop the knife and put your hands on your head.¡±

    The woman and the boy both froze. They turned to look at him in utter surprise, and Matt felt a chill in his blood. Their eyes were wrong. He couldn¡¯t see any whites at the edges; the pupils were too large, almost like a dog¡¯s. What the hell was he dealing with?

    He shook it off. She had to be wearing some kind of contacts. Whatever they had put in their eyes, she still had a knife.

    He could see the boy¡¯s jaw drop open out of his peripheral vision, but he kept focused on the woman. She regarded him with a kind of cool disdain that most people tended to reserve for bugs they intended to squish. ¡°Ma¡¯am, I am a security officer. Put down the knife, or I will be forced to shoot you.¡±

    She smiled, now. It did not make her look any more pleasant. When she spoke, it was a meaningless gibberish that made Matt¡¯s ears hurt. When he didn¡¯t answer, she laughed, a high, harsh sound, and then turned back to the boy.

    Matt raised his voice as she started to step forward. ¡°Ma¡¯am, this is your final warning. Drop. The. Knife.¡±

    She turned back to look at him, and any humor or disdain had vanished from her face. Instead, there was anger, cold and lethal. Her strange, uncanny eyes fixed on him, and she slowly raised one hand. He could hear her muttering something under her breath, words he still didn¡¯t recognize. The pieces he did hear over the rain twisted in his guts.

    The woman turned her hand upward, and a ball of pale flame suddenly appeared. It danced above her fingers, and she met his eyes. She smiled.

    Nope! He snapped the pistol into position. He pulled the trigger one, two, three, four times. Gun shots echoed through the rain. The flame went out.

    When it was over, he was looking at her over the fading muzzle flash of his pistol. Her eyes were wide from shock and disbelief, and she patted at one of the growing bloodstains on the front of her dress. She took an unsteady step backwards, coughed a little, and then fell face down into the mud. The dagger splashed into a puddle beside her. Gunsmoke rose and vanished into the rain overhead.

    The noise of the rain slowly faded back into his hearing, replacing both the hammering sound of the pistol and the beating of his own heart. He stepped forward, his pistol still pointed at the woman. It wasn¡¯t likely that she was going to get back up, but he had no intention of being surprised. ¡°Hey kid, you okay?¡±

    When the boy didn¡¯t answer, Matt glanced over at him. He saw the kid still sitting in the mud, his back pressed against an old container. He didn¡¯t look like he was bleeding or anything, but he was obviously in shock. ¡°Hey, are you hurt? Did she hurt you?¡±

    The boy shook his head, still too stunned to speak. Matt took another couple of steps forward, enough to kick the knife further away from the woman. She didn¡¯t move. He glanced around, trying to make sure that nobody else was coming out of the night. Those shots would have echoed. If there were any more weirdos with knives out there, they¡¯d come running.

    He saw the first of them throw themselves into the light a heartbeat later.

    Part of him immediately started screaming that it was just another costume. It had to be. They were hunched over, with a snarling wolf¡¯s head and fur matted down by the rain. Something red was dripping from their claws and chops, and Matt¡¯s mind flashed back to the body he¡¯d already found.

    The rest of him immediately brought up his pistol and started pulling the trigger again.

    Four quick shots knocked the thing on its back, just as a second one came bounding in over it. Matt switched targets, punching another four bullets into its broad chest. He could feel a snarl working its way across his own face as the third one leapt for him, shoving aside the other two as they slumped and staggered.

    He fired three more times, each shot hitting dead center in the thing¡¯s chest. Then he pulled the trigger a fourth time and heard the hammer click on an empty chamber.

    ¡°The hell!¡± Matt backpedaled as the thing kept coming for him. He sidestepped it as it swiped at him, its movements already slowed from blood loss and shock. Then he swung wildly at its skull, pistol whipping it as hard as he could. It yowled a bit, and he stepped back and away, ejecting the empty magazine as his fingers grabbed the next one from his belt.

    It slid home with practiced speed, and he brought it level with the still-staggering monster. He fired three times before it could turn around. A moment later, it lost its footing and fell into the mud.

    Before it had even hit the ground, Matt was already turning back to the other two. He caught one of them rising back up and put two more shots into it. As it went down again, he put another two into the other one for good measure. It twitched twice, and its jaws snapped at the air. Then it slowed and began to relax into death. He very nearly put another couple of shots into the dead woman as well, but the memory of the pistol clicking empty convinced him to conserve his ammo.

    His ears still rang from the shots, and his heart was pounding harder than any drumbeat that he¡¯d heard in his life, but he could still hear the kid whimpering slightly in the mud. Matt risked a quick glance at him, hoping that none of the things had managed to claw at him while he wasn¡¯t looking. ¡°Don¡¯t worry, I¡¯ve got you. You¡¯re safe.¡± He put his back to the kid and tried to look in every direction at once. ¡°Are there any more of those things out there? Anyone else I should worry about?¡±

    The boy didn¡¯t answer, but as the ringing faded a bit more from his ears, Matt thought he could hear footsteps running alongside a nearby container. He tried to keep his hands from shaking, and was startled to find them completely fine. It was like he¡¯d just finished gunning down a target on the range. Wasn¡¯t he supposed to be worse off after a shooting? Was he some kind of psychopath?

    He didn¡¯t have the time to think it over. The footsteps rounded a container, and he saw another robed figure stop just outside of the circle of light. Matt glared at them, watching for any sign of fire or fangs. ¡°Whoever you are, come into the light. Slowly.¡±

    The figure stepped forward, and Matt relaxed slightly. It was an old man, wearing robes that seemed to match what the boy was wearing. They were the same color and style at least, though the old man didn¡¯t seem to have any blood on him. A bit more charring, maybe, but no obvious scratches or tears.

    Then his breath caught. The old man had the same too-large pupils and whiteless eyes. They looked too real to be a contact. What the hell had he stumbled into?

    The newcomer¡¯s eyes were moving over the bodies in the mud, as if counting. They stopped when they landed on the woman, and Matt heard him suck in a shocked breath.

    Matt risked a glance back at the boy. ¡°Hey, is he with you?¡±

    The boy managed a quick nod, and Matt looked back at the old man. He found the guy staring at him, those uncanny eyes wide with shock. ¡°You killed her. You killed the Red Sorceress.¡±

    ¡°Whoever she was, she was going to hurt this kid, so I put her down.¡± He made his voice firm, though on the inside it was starting to feel like he might not have been as okay as he thought. Maybe the adrenaline rush had carried him through it. ¡°Who are you people, and why are you here?¡±

    ¡°I am Alerios the Mage, of the Order of Echoes.¡± The old man glanced over the other bodies, as if seeing them again for the first time. ¡°And three Grim Hounds as well.¡± His attention returned to Matt, and those dark eyes seemed to drill down into Matt. ¡°Do you know what you have done?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m the one asking the questions.¡± Matt kept scanning the surroundings, looking for any others to show up. ¡°You said your name is Alerios? Why are you here?¡±

    The old man nodded slowly, his eyes still locked on Matt¡¯s face. ¡°We fled here to attempt to avoid the Red Sorceress and her minions. We failed.¡± He looked away, his gaze falling on the boy. ¡°We are the last of our companions left. Carlen and I are the only ones who still live.¡±

    Matt heard the boy groan slightly, and he glanced back at him. Carlen, if that was actually his name, now had his eyes closed in obvious pain. He looked back at Alerios. ¡°How many did you start with?¡±

    ¡°There were six of us. Now there are two.¡±

    He pictured even more of those bodies out there in the dark. Then he shook the image away. ¡°How many are there left chasing you?¡±

    ¡°I accounted for four Grim Hounds. Carlen and his friends felled two.¡± Alerios paused. ¡°You killed the last of them¡ªand the Sorceress herself.¡±

    The admiration in Alerios¡¯ voice twisted in Matt¡¯s gut. He shook his head. ¡°She was after the kid. I wasn¡¯t going to just stand by and let her stab him.¡±

    ¡°You say that as if there weren¡¯t legions of people in Nognatir who wouldn¡¯t have done just that.¡± Alerios shook his head. ¡°The number of mages that would even consider killing her a possibility can be counted on one hand. We have witnessed history this night.¡±

    Matt couldn¡¯t help but snort. The words were pretty grand for someone standing in wet clothing with his boots in the mud.

    Then his eyes drifted back to the dead werewolves and the woman¡¯s corpse, and his good humor drained away. ¡°Okay, if you two are the only ones left, I¡¯m going to call the police. They¡¯ll take you back to the station and put you both in protective custody until we can figure out what is going on.¡±

    Alerios frowned. ¡°This¡­station, it will have many mages? Your royalty will stand with us?¡±

    Matt laughed. ¡°That¡¯s not something we do here. At least, not for a very, very long time.¡± Whatever was going on, he didn¡¯t think that Alerios or Carlen were going to hold up very well if he kept them out in the rain. At the very least, he wanted to get out of the storm himself, if only to give himself the chance to get his head screwed back on straight.

    ¡°How strange.¡± Alerios¡¯ frown deepened a little, and then he shrugged. ¡°Well, in any case, I¡¯m afraid we cannot accept your offer of hospitality, good sir. Our kingdom will be waiting for our return¡ªas will yours.¡±

    He¡¯d opened his mouth to cut the man off, but the tail end of the sentence cut him off before he could. Matt goggled at the stranger. ¡°As will¡ªwhat? I just told you, we don¡¯t have kingdoms here. And the protective custody thing was not optional. People are dead.¡±

    ¡°Your neighbors may not have royalty here before, but rest assured, they do now.¡± Alerios circled around Matt, as if trying to get past him to where the boy was still curled on the ground, quietly sobbing into his hands. ¡°As the slayer of the Red Sorceress, you are now the master of the lands that were once hers. The people of the Crimson Peaks, and all their domain, are now yours to shape and command.¡±

    ¡°The what?¡± Matt pivoted to keep the old man in his sight, his gun still ready to aim the moment he saw so much as a single hostile twitch. ¡°What are you talking about? I shot her, sure, but there¡¯s no way that I¡¯m the king of anything.¡±

    ¡°I beg to disagree.¡± Alerios¡¯ lips twitched in something approaching a smile. ¡°Your ways are quite interesting in this place! Is it possible that you have never heard of Divine Right?¡±

    Matt blinked. ¡°Well, yeah. The old kings and queens used to say they ruled because they were meant to.¡±

    ¡°Well of course they did!¡± The old man actually chuckled. ¡°That¡¯s the way of things. And those who overthrow the old gain the right to rule in themselves. Therefore, you are now the ruler of the lands she once ruled.¡± He stepped to the side again, peering past him at the boy on the ground. ¡°Now, if you would permit me, I would like to see if the Carlen is safe.¡±

    He nodded slowly, still careful to keep his distance. The old man watched him with an equal amount of caution, at least until he reached the spot where Carlen was sitting. As Matt watched, Alerios went to one knee, peering at the tears in Carlen¡¯s robes and murmuring to him. Then he looked back at Matt and smiled.

    ¡°Thank you. You have our gratitude and our congratulations for your ascension to the throne. We hope to send envoys to you in the near future. Until then.¡±

    Matt blinked. ¡°Wait, what are you¡ª¡±

    Before he could complete the question, there was a sudden flash of light, and both Alerios and Carlen were gone. In their place, there was a smoldering circle of charred mud steaming away in the rain. Matt stared at it, his mind still whirling with all the impossible things he¡¯d seen.

    His frame of mind didn¡¯t improve a moment later when roaring fire exploded from the fallen bodies around him.

 B1Ch2: Interviews

    The next few hours were something of a blur.

    Even with the fire, there had still been enough left that the coroner had identified all fourteen dead. Nobody had questioned his use of a firearm, especially since the woman¡¯s knife had managed to escape the heat, and some of the corpses had shown clear lacerations. Matt had been careful not to mention anything about mages or werewolves or disappearing people in robes, instead preferring to talk about the knife, and people rushing him out of the dark.

    The general conclusion was that some kind of criminal gang had set up shop in the storage facility, making some kind of chemical weapon. There had been a falling out that had led to a knife and gun fight, which had ended when Security Officer Matthew Irons staggered into the middle of it. The responding police officers had confiscated his duty pistol, told him not to leave town, and sent him home. He had at least one appointment with a detective to follow up.

    Matt would have protested, but the night had left him shaken and uncertain. Instead, he had gone home to his rental unit and fallen into the kind of sleep that permitted no dreams.

    All of which did little to improve his mood when he heard the knock on his door just a handful of hours later.

    The pounding on the door shook him awake. He glanced at his alarm clock and growled a curse. He¡¯d disabled the alarm on purpose this time, knowing that the station wasn¡¯t expecting him until the afternoon. Seeing it was barely eight o¡¯clock was an unwelcome surprise.

    Whoever was at the door pounded on it again, and he snarled another curse as he struggled out of bed. He¡¯d barely managed to get out of his uniform the night before, and the urgency of the visitor at the door barely gave him time to pull on a hoodie and some jeans before he staggered to the door.

    He pulled it open and was confronted by what could have been his worst nightmare, before his reality had been literally invaded by werewolves. She was a short woman, barely above five feet. Her hair was curly and brown, with more than enough frizz from the humidity to tell him she¡¯d been awake a while. The lady was still adjusting her glasses with one hand; she had the other raised to start another round of beating on his door. There was a press badge clipped to the lapel of her pantsuit¡¯s jacket.

    Matt glared at her, well aware of the effect his red-eyed grimace might have had. She seemed impervious to it. ¡°Well? What do you want?¡±

    She squared her shoulders and smiled. ¡°Matthew Irons? My name is Mary Crowley. We talked on the phone yesterday?¡±

    A furnace of pure rage started to life in his guts. Only his mother¡¯s strict countryside manners kept it from boiling all the way to the surface. As it was, Matt considered it a feat of superhuman proportions that he contained it to a smile that was all teeth and no welcome. ¡°I remember, Ms. Crowley. I also remember telling you I had no comment for you.¡±

    ¡°About the college thing. Yes.¡± She glanced around at the half-barren parking lot. Matt followed her gaze and saw a handful of old women standing near a blue SUV. He recalled seeing one of them before, but they were all looking his way and whispering. ¡°I promise that I¡¯m not here to ask you about any of that.¡±

    Recognition crashed in, and Matt felt his smile grow one step more brittle. ¡°I don¡¯t have anything to say about last night, either.¡±

    ¡°Mr. Irons, I know it must have been a terrible experience, but there are a lot of questions about¡ª¡±

    ¡°The police department will likely be releasing a statement about what happened, and they will probably know a lot more than I do.¡± He doubted that was entirely true, but he wasn¡¯t crazy enough to think that talking about werewolves, witches, and wizards with a reporter was going to go well at all. ¡°All I did was respond to an emergency call. That¡¯s it.¡±

    Mary¡¯s expression turned incredulous. ¡°A simple emergency call that resulted in fourteen badly burned bodies, some of whom you shot.¡±

    ¡°I have every confidence that the investigation will prove those shots were justified.¡± He wasn¡¯t that certain at all, now that he thought about it. It wasn¡¯t like the werewolves were carrying sidearms, after all. ¡°Now, if you¡¯ll excuse me.¡±

    She put out her hand and stopped the door as it was swinging closed. ¡°Mr. Irons, you¡¯re going to have to get your side of the story out eventually. People want to know what kind of things are happening in this town. You¡¯d be smart to get on the right side of the story.¡±

    ¡°Yeah, I¡¯m sure you have my best interests at heart.¡± He motioned to her hand. ¡°If you don¡¯t move that hand, you might get a few smashed fingers, miss.¡±

    Her expression hardened. ¡°You can¡¯t run away from me forever, Irons.¡±

    ¡°Going back to sleep is not running, Mary.¡± He smiled, feeling a little smug and a lot more vindictive. ¡°Say hello to your editor for me.¡±

    She recoiled and started to say something else. Whatever her return jibe had been, the slamming door cut it off. He heard her say something very unladylike, and his door shook with one last impact. Then he thought he heard her stalk away.

    Matt allowed himself a few moments to enjoy that small victory. As he gloated, however, he couldn¡¯t fight off the feeling that she might be right. The police might have come up with a decent story at the scene, but the more the investigators dug into things, the more questions they would be asking. It wouldn¡¯t take long for them to decide the whole incident might be easier to sweep under the rug if they hung it on him. Fourteen bodies that were never going to be identified, and a single security guard on the scene? They¡¯d have to be superhuman not to throw him under the bus.

    Still staring at the door, he kept thinking it over and coming back to the same conclusions. At some point, he was going to be sitting in a very small room with some very hostile interrogators. What was he going to do then?

    ¡°I must say, sire, she seemed as if she was quite the annoyance. I¡¯m surprised you let her survive.¡±

    Matt nearly jumped out of his own skin. He spun around, his hand already grabbing for a pistol that wasn¡¯t at his side. Even his backup piece was still sitting in his nightstand, which might as well have been another country.

    The creature sitting on his bed, one leg crossed over the other, didn¡¯t seem to be aware of his apparent shock, however. It smiled at him with a mouth that seemed just a hair too wide, and watched him with yellow eyes with slits like a cat. Its skin was a distinct yellow-green and looked like it was made of scales, while its ears were long and wide, pointing back along the sides of its head.

    It wore a rough, dark-colored tunic and leggings, neither of which seemed like they had any place in a modern setting. He could see some kind of sigil had once been stitched into the fabric, but someone had gone through and picked it out recently. Some of the threads were still there, though. It was an odd detail to focus in on, but he could hardly blame himself for trying to grab hold of something to make things less confusing.

    To his mild gratitude, the creature didn¡¯t speak while Matt tried to get a hold of himself. After a quick glance at the nightstand, he put a hand behind himself and touched the doorknob. If the thing got unfriendly, he could be out the door in a heartbeat. ¡°Who are you?¡±

    His visitor nodded briefly. It stood and gave him a deep bow. ¡°My name is Gorfeld, and I am your steward, sire. I am here to bring you to your kingdom, which is waiting for your coronation. If it is your will, the ceremony can even be held today.¡±

    Matt stared at him a moment. ¡°My¡­what?¡±

    ¡°Your coronation. As ruler of the Crimson Peaks.¡± The thing slowly tilted its head to one side, as if it was trying to study him. ¡°You did kill the Red Sorceress, did you not?¡±

    ¡°I guess?¡± Matt shook his head. ¡°Look, you¡¯ve got the wrong guy. I¡¯m nobody¡¯s king.¡±

    ¡°You are, sire.¡± The creature was frowning now, examining Matt as if he was worried. ¡°By killing the previous ruler of the kingdom, you have claimed the Divine Right for yourself. The fealty of the land is owed to you, and none else.¡±

    Whatever hallucination he was suffering from, Matt was more than ready for it to be over. He slowly turned the handle on the door, hoping that the knob wouldn¡¯t betray him by squeaking. ¡°That doesn¡¯t sound like a very good way to choose your leaders, Gor¡­¡± Matt paused for a moment, trying to put his memories in order. ¡°Gorfed?¡±

    ¡°Gorfeld, sire.¡±

    ¡°Gorfeld. I mean, you¡¯d probably end up with a bunch of murderers and tyrants in charge of everything, without any real qualifications, right? I mean, I¡¯m not a fancy wizard or anything.¡±

    ¡°Most of our rulers are not Wizards, as a rule. The Sorceress was an¡­exception.¡± Gorfeld shook his head. He seemed uneasy, despite his inhuman features. ¡°Though you would not be the first outsider to rule among us.¡±

    Matt snorted. ¡°And if I don¡¯t want to rule this¡­Crimson Peaks place and just give up my right to the throne? What happens then?¡±

    Gorfeld blinked. ¡°Well, there would be an immediate succession crisis. I believe there would be at least six different claimants for the throne, and all of them would begin an extremely bloody civil war.¡±

    Matt raised his eyebrows. ¡°What? There weren¡¯t any heirs to the throne?¡±

    ¡°No. That would only encourage lax behavior and a lack of loyalty¡­ or so the Red Sorceress insisted.¡± Gorfeld looked away, seeming grim. ¡°The last succession crisis was sixty years ago. It killed three whole clans of our people. Several thousands more died among the clans that survived.¡±

    ¡°Oh.¡± An option that put the blood of thousands on his hands did not sound like a good one. ¡°Can I just abdicate and give the Divine Right to someone else, then? Would that work?¡±

    The steward paused. ¡°Technically, yes. That is possible.¡±

    ¡°Awesome!¡± Matt grinned, still holding the doorknob. He could be out the door in an instant, now. There had to be people still outside. ¡°So who can I give it to?¡±

    There was another long pause, and Gorfeld tilted his head the other way. When he answered, his words were slow, as if he was reluctant to say them. ¡°Any of the leaders of our High Clans would accept it easily. All seven would be eager to claim the power.¡±

    Something about the way Gorfeld had said it made Matt pause. ¡°And?¡±

    Gorfeld blinked. ¡°And what, sire?¡±

    ¡°And what would they do with it once they had it? The Divine Right, I mean.¡±

    The thing¡¯s expression twisted. ¡°They¡­would likely begin by purging their rivals from the clans. When the Red Sorceress took power, she turned half her rivals into Grim Hounds, and fed the rest to them. Before her, the Obsidian King launched an invasion that turned into a war on three fronts, and sent anyone who dared complain to the front lines as fodder. The Pale Master before him spent three years hunting down everyone who¡¯d ever slighted him and locking them in the Tower of Blood so he could torture them to death, all while the Low Folk starved¡­¡±

    This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

    Gorfeld trailed off as Matt waved him to silence. ¡°You¡¯re saying the new batch of leaders would do the same kind of thing, then?¡±

    There was another hesitation. Then Gorfeld nodded, in a way that seemed fairly certain. ¡°Yes, sire. I do. It is their way.¡± He paused again and then continued in a low voice. ¡°There would likely be civil war anyway, no matter who you chose. Their rivals for the throne would see your chosen successor as weak, having been handed the Right instead of taking it on their own¡ªthough some might try to fix it by killing you afterwards.¡±

    Matt grunted. Obviously, that wasn¡¯t a good option. ¡°So how about you, then? Want to be king, Gorfeld?¡±

    The steward went pale, his yellow-green skin turning an unhealthy shade. ¡°N-no, sire. I am of the Low Folk. Some of the noblemen might rebel against their fellows, but all of them would rebel against me. My family and I would be dead within the day.¡± Gorfeld paused and looked away. ¡°I have two young daughters, sire. Please.¡±

    It was a completely unfair request, and one that Matt had no chance to refuse. He sighed. ¡°All right. I guess you are off the hook.¡± Matt quietly let go of the doorknob, letting it twist back into place. ¡°Though just to be sure, what would you have done if I had given it to you anyway?¡±

    For a moment, the steward seemed uncertain. Then he cracked a wide grin. ¡°I¡¯d have named you my heir, of course, sire.¡±

    Matt snorted again, this time smiling a bit more genuinely. ¡°Fair enough.¡± He looked around his small room, searching for signs that he¡¯d just somehow lost his mind. How bad did a day have to get for him to think some kind of nervous breakdown was the least concerning possibility? When he looked back at Gorfeld, he thought he could recognize an emotion on the man¡¯s face. How did something that strange look hopeful?

    In the end, it was that hopeful expression that decided things. It wasn¡¯t quite the same as the desperation on the kid¡¯s face from the night before, but it carried the same weight. ¡°Are you sure you want me to do this, Gorfeld? I come from a place without kings; that means I¡¯m going to do things differently and change things you are used to. It might end up worse than what you would be getting normally.¡±

    Gorfeld actually laughed a little. ¡°I don¡¯t know if that¡¯s even possible. At this point, it is worth a try.¡±

    Matt nodded slowly, his mind spinning. He wasn¡¯t just going to be a cold-hearted tyrant, but he wasn¡¯t planning on being some crowned monarch forever, either. If the example of Cincinnatus had been good enough for George Washington, it would be good enough for him. His mind was already spinning with plans for a society that wouldn¡¯t need some kind of bloody-handed tyrant to force it to work¡­and besides, it wasn¡¯t like he had much of a choice, unless he wanted to wait for some warlord to pop out of nowhere to stick a sword through his gut.

    Still, it ran against the grain to just give in to being conscripted into royalty¡ªespecially since the police were going to have some very pointed questions once he got back. ¡°All right, but we¡¯re going to be changing the name. The Crimson Peaks might have worked for the last lady, but I don¡¯t think it fits me very well.¡±

    Gorfeld¡¯s eyes narrowed for a moment, and then his grin returned. ¡°The woman outside called you Mr. Irons, did she not? Would the Kingdom of Iron suit your rule, sire?¡±

    A part of Matt rebelled against it instantly. It sounded like the kind of name an evil overlord would use for their empire of terror. Still¡­

    ¡°Fine, we have a deal¡ªbut my name¡¯s Matthew. Not some fancy title. Just King Matthew, I guess.¡± He stuck out his hand. ¡°Shake on it and then let¡¯s get moving.¡±

    Gorfeld blinked, his eyes dropping to Matt¡¯s hand. ¡°Shake? Is this some spell?¡±

    ¡°No. It¡¯s a handshake.¡± Matt saw a total lack of understanding in Gorfeld¡¯s expression and frowned. ¡°It¡¯s a way to agree to a deal here. I think it used to show that both parties were unarmed?¡±

    ¡°Another strange custom. There are many spells that could kill from touch alone, and even without a spell, would they not have another hand?¡± Gorfeld tentatively put his hand out. His skin felt rough and scaly, but warm to the touch. ¡°It is agreed.¡±

    Matt shook his hand firmly. As he did, the world around him abruptly vanished in a burst of light. His humble motel-room apartment disappeared. Instead, he found himself in a chamber of dark stone and red tapestries. Torches were burning in sconces, and elaborately carved columns held up a roof inside of what he assumed was some sort of castle. He looked around, his eyes wide as he realized exactly what kind of insanity he¡¯d just signed himself up for.

    Then he turned back to Gorfeld and drew in a slow breath. ¡°All right. Let¡¯s get to work.¡± The steward bowed for a moment and then led him towards a door. Matt followed, trying not to let his suddenly medieval surroundings shake his conviction. It would all be fine. There was no way that it could be that bad, could it?

    It was, quite possibly, the worst situation that Matt had ever seen.

    ¡°Okay, let¡¯s get this straight.¡± He scrubbed both hands over his face for a moment, as if to wipe away what he was looking at. ¡°We have no allies, we are surrounded by people who hate us, and half the nobles in the kingdom are going to rebel. Does that sum it all up?¡±

    ¡°Yes, sire.¡± Gorfeld nodded. He gestured for another servant to approach, this one holding a rich red robe lined with gold. ¡°Would this suit you, sire?¡±

    Matt lifted his head long enough to look at it, and then shook his head. ¡°No. I need something simpler. More militaristic, I think.¡± He looked back at Gorfeld. ¡°Okay, let¡¯s start from the beginning again. Our capital city is called Redspire?¡±

    ¡°Yes, sire. That is where the palace is located.¡± Gorfeld reached out and spread a parchment on the table. There was a crude, obviously abstract map on it, with a star near the center. ¡°We are here, in the center of the Spirelands. Redspire is the largest of our cities, and remains under your personal control.¡±

    He nodded. ¡°Large? About how many people are we talking about?¡±

    Gorfeld seemed to swell slightly. His expression became almost smug. ¡°There are just over thirty thousand inhabitants, at last count.¡±

    Matt had to keep himself from laughing. Even Wyoming had bigger towns. ¡°O-okay. We can work on that.¡± He examined the map, tracing the lines of mountains marching down from the north and noting where the rivers ran. ¡°So Redspire is located on the River Crimson, right? And we have the High Peaks to the east?¡±

    ¡°As you said, sire. The High Peaks are where the Firebloom Imps hold sway.¡± The steward grimaced. ¡°They are the ones who hold Ashpeak, our city there, and they are led by an Imp named Tek the Mad. He should remain reliable¡­ though much of his intentions are hard to know.¡±

    ¡°I¡­ see.¡± Matt frowned, and looked over as a new servant entered. This one was much larger than Gorfeld, or the other Imp that had come in before. They stood at average human height, with red eyes, green skin, and tusks. They carried a set of brutish looking armor, festooned with spikes that could not be practical, which they held out for him to inspect. ¡°No, I think it¡¯s¡­a bit much.¡±

    Gorfeld looked at the armor and shrugged. ¡°It is traditional Orcish dueling armor, but we can try something else.¡± He gestured again, and the Orc retreated, taking the armor with them.

    ¡°Just how many¡­kinds of people live in our kingdom, Gorfeld?¡± Matt tried to keep the uneasiness out of his voice. He would have been happy to say that it wasn¡¯t unnerving, but each time he saw someone new, it was like the uncanny valley yawned open in front of him. Part of him kept insisting that the various differences were just some kind of special effects, like something out of the movies, but it was hard to convince himself.

    The Imp was frowning at him, as if Gorfeld could tell what he was thinking. ¡°There are many clans under your command. The Imps control most of the High Peaks. The Firebloom clan is the one you truly need to concern yourself with, as both the Goldplain and Ashrock Imps are only Low Folk.¡±

    The capitals on the label were easy to hear. Matt felt his uneasiness increase. ¡°And there¡¯s more?¡±

    ¡°Orcs make up most of the kingdom, honestly. They have three High Clans; the Red Moon Orcs control Red Plains to our west, the Hard Scythes control the Broken Hills beyond that, and the Leaffall clan controls the Copper Hills to our southwest. There are also many Greenriver and Coldhearth Orcs, but once again, they are only Low Folk. The Goblins have only one High clan, the Blackleafs, led by Lady Suluth. She will be loyal, I think. They live in the Darkwood to the south, while their Low Folk clans are the Grimfens and Copperflames.¡±

    The more he heard the word Low Folk, the less he liked it. ¡°What about to our north? Those are Elves?¡±

    ¡°Frost Elves, yes. They also call themselves the Iceheart clan, led by Lady Itrelia. They almost certainly intend to rebel against us, but fortunately, the River Crimson lies between us and them.¡±

    ¡°Not between this other part, though.¡± He tapped a section to the northwest of Redspire. ¡°Who lives in the Small Heights?¡±

    Gorfeld made a face. ¡°The Gnomes, sire. They were¡­convinced to join the kingdom by the Red Chief, nearly twenty years ago, but they remain difficult to manage. Their underground burrows are easy to secure, but they are a timid, reluctant people. Even their leader, Lord Nuramesh, is easily cowed. He should remain loyal.¡±

    Matt nodded slowly. It sounded like the Gnomes were more an occupied people than a natural part of the kingdom. He didn¡¯t feel good about that, but there wasn¡¯t much he was excited about at the moment. ¡°Okay, so we¡¯ve got seven High Clans, and the rest are Low Folk. How many High Clans are planning on rebelling?¡±

    ¡°Lady Itrelia will, as I mentioned.¡± Gorfeld paused. ¡°Lord Teblas, leader of the Leaffalls, will go as well. He was¡­rather close to the Red Sorceress, sire.¡±

    ¡°Great.¡± Matt shook his head. ¡°Who else?¡±

    ¡°The Hard Scythes have been fractious of late, sire. They apparently felt the burden of many of the Red Sorceress¡¯ campaigns to the west, and Lord Grufen, their head, has conflicts with Lord Braden of the Red Moons. I suspect they will rebel as well.¡±

    He grunted. ¡°Three out of seven. Not great.¡± He shook his head over the map as well. ¡°And just about all of our neighbors intend to attack us as well, right?¡±

    ¡°Our past few monarchs have waged many wars against them, sire. They would be more than happy to take advantage of our time of weakness.¡±

    Matt nodded slowly, still running his eyes over the crude map. His uneasiness suddenly solidified as an idea occurred to him. ¡°Gorfeld, what clan are you from?¡±

    The Imp hesitated. ¡°I am a Goldplain Imp, sire. They often call both us and the Ashrock Imps Low Imps, to distinguish us from the Firebloom or High Imps.¡±

    He felt his face tighten slightly. ¡°And what rights do Low Folk have in the kingdom?¡±

    Gorfeld seemed mystified by the question. ¡°Rights, sire? I do not understand.¡±

    ¡°Can they own property? If a Firebloom Imp hurts a Goldplain, what happens?¡±

    ¡°I¡­¡± Gorfeld looked increasingly confused. Another servant entered, but Matt gestured for them to pause without looking at them. When the Imp finally answered, his voice was matter of fact in a way that horrified Matt. ¡°Low Folk are given the privilege of serving their betters, sire. They are tied to the land, and to their nobles who watch over them. Those who serve well are given greater trust and responsibility, while those who do not are punished.¡±

    Matt let out a breath that hissed through his teeth. ¡°They¡¯re serfs. You¡¯re saying the High Clans own the Low Folk.¡±

    Gorfeld shifted in place, his stance suddenly uncomfortable. ¡°It¡­ could be said so, sire.¡±

    For a moment, Matt simply kept staring at Gorfeld. A new, horrifying thought occurred to him. ¡°Do I own serfs?¡±

    ¡°Of course, sire.¡± Gorfeld¡¯s eyes went wide at Matt¡¯s expression. He continued in a hurried voice. ¡°In fact, you have more than anyone else in the kingdom. You have more land and property than any of the other nobles in the kingdom, with the right to¡ª¡±

    ¡°Fuck that.¡±

    A shocked silence followed, as if he had denounced the entire kingdom. In a way, he had. It took Matt a few more moments to bring his temper under control. The prospect of being a slaveowner¡ªworse, the biggest slaveowner around¡ªwas not what he was planning on. Sure, societies had existed with some form of forced labor for centuries, and the modern day wasn¡¯t exactly free of it either, but he drew the line at holding the whip himself.

    Then again, he already had half the kingdom in rebellion. The quickest way to push the other half to revolt would be to immediately undermine their privilege and power. He had to be careful. It would change, that was not a question, but he had to do it carefully.

    Finally, his burning anger back under control, Matt unclenched his hands. He looked up at Gorfeld. The Imp was still staring at him, but the shock had faded into a kind of resignation. Perhaps the man had already decided he was dealing with an idiot. Well, he¡¯d just have to learn the hard way. They all would.

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry, Gorfeld. I¡¯m still getting used to the situation. Please continue.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s mostly everything, sire.¡± Gorfeld waved at the edges of the crude map. ¡°Our enemies are all around us, to the west, east, and south. They are likely already waiting for us in the throne room, ready to declare war on us the moment you¡¯ve taken the crown. You¡¯ll need to deal with them as well as the rebels. If you can stabilize the situation, we may yet survive the next few months. If not¡­¡±

    Matt forced himself to nod, thinking as hard as he could. He had the benefit of human history to rely on; teachers like Machiavelli, Sun Tzu, and many, many more were going to give him the chance to keep his enemies off balance and bring things back under control. Another new thought occurred to him, and he glanced at the servant. ¡°Wait, how many of you speak English? How are you speaking English?¡±

    Gorfeld blinked. ¡°English, sire?¡±

    ¡°Yeah, the language I¡¯m using right now. Am I going to need a translator to talk to people?¡±

    ¡°We are speaking in the Common tongue, sire.¡± Gorfeld smiled. ¡°It is an aspect of the Divine Right. The instant you killed the Red Sorceress, your words became understandable to us, and ours to you.¡±

    Matt sighed. At least that wasn¡¯t going to be an issue. He was already going to have enough trouble without faulty translations messing things up. ¡°Okay, good.¡± Then he looked over at the servant. She was holding a vaguely militaristic tunic and pants, along with a cape. ¡°Better. Let¡¯s go over it all again. I want to know everything about this place, and its people, before I walk into that throne room.¡±

    As Gorfeld started in on the information again, Matt forced himself to listen, to absorb it. The coronation would be the first test, and he intended to be ready for it.

 B1Ch3: Coronation

    Two hours later, Matt followed Gorfeld through the largest doors he¡¯d ever seen into a grand throne room.

    Fortunately, he wasn¡¯t still wearing the workout clothes he¡¯d pulled on a few hours before. In the end, the servants had found a dark tunic and pants that both fit him and looked mildly like a military uniform. They¡¯d matched it with a flowing black cape that he thought would give him a bit of a striking appearance. At the very least, it would be easier to dodge and run away than the heavy suit of armor, which would turn out better anyway if the other side was throwing fireballs.

    The throne room didn¡¯t look like it would be the site of a battle anytime soon, but it definitely wasn¡¯t some kind of peaceful sanctuary, either. An arched ceiling stretched high enough that the tops of the dark stone pillars almost disappeared in the gloom above, while the red-stained glass windows reduced the daylight flooding in through them to a lurid, crimson glow. If the natural light hadn¡¯t been augmented by the torches and candelabra scattered liberally through the room, Matt might have had a fairly hard time seeing everything.

    Fortunately, he could see the attendees well enough. They had gathered into four groups, each waiting separately at the foot of the raised dais that housed the empty metal throne. All of them turned to look at him and Gorfeld as they strode through the doorway.

    Matt refused to let them intimidate him, even though his fingers ached to feel his pistol again. Gorfeld had steadfastly refused to go fetch the weapon, saying that it wouldn¡¯t be needed, but the way some of them were staring at him, he wasn¡¯t nearly as confident. ¡°Okay, Gorfeld, which are which?¡±

    ¡°To the right are your loyal nobles, sire. Braden the Red, Suluth the Dark, and Tek the Mad.¡±

    Matt nodded. The names fit all too well, especially the giant, armored behemoth with spikes and a red tassel hanging off his helmet. Braden looked like he was ready for a fight already, though Matt thought his armor was just a bit too polished and too finely made to have seen much actual combat. Suluth was a Goblin, a menacing shadow with wicked knives strapped to her sides. She had dark leathery skin, though not as tough as an Imp¡¯s scaled hide, and her face extended into a doglike snout. The final noble wore familiar wizardly robes and looked like an older, bluer version of Gorfeld. The so-called High Imp also had a fairly distracted air, as if he was studying something that Matt couldn¡¯t see. ¡°Tek isn¡¯t actually mad, is he?¡±

    ¡°There is some debate on the subject.¡± Gorfeld nodded unobtrusively towards the next group, a huddled bunch that stood to the left of the nobles. ¡°Your servants, who are here to submit to your control. They represent the Low Folk, in all their variety.¡±

    Matt frowned a little. The second group was looking at him a little more fearfully, and none of them had as fine a set of clothing as the other groups. ¡°No names for them?¡±

    ¡°Their leaders change frequently. They are of no importance. The loyalty of serfs is of symbolic importance, mostly.¡± Gorfeld¡¯s flat tone gave no clue as to what the Low Imp thought of the statement. Instead of clarifying, he nodded to the third group, who stood distinctly apart from all the others. ¡°They are more crucial. I believe those are the nobles who intend to immediately rebel.¡±

    ¡°Ah.¡± Matt studied them as he walked. There were four of them, two wearing slightly shabbier versions of the armor that Braden wore. ¡°Those are Grufen and Teblas?¡±

    ¡°Of the Hard Scythe and Leaffall Orcs, yes. The one standing next to them is Itrelia, of the Frost Elves.¡± Gorfeld shivered a bit. ¡°Very unpleasant.¡±

    The woman seemed every bit as hostile as Gorfeld had predicted. Her pointed ears had jeweled earrings, and frost seemed to lace her hair. She studied Matt as if he were an insect. The fourth of their group seemed intent on avoiding Matt¡¯s attention, however. ¡°I thought you said the Gnomes were going to stay loyal.¡±

    ¡°Apparently Nuramesh felt otherwise.¡± A hint of surprise colored Gorfeld¡¯s response, and Matt smirked a little. At least his new advisor couldn¡¯t predict everything. That fact was almost as reassuring as it was frustrating.

    Matt grunted. Then he looked at the final, much larger group. The variety there was shockingly ample, and he felt his heart beat faster at the looks directed at him. ¡°And them?¡±

    ¡°They are the diplomats sent by our neighbors.¡± Gorfeld¡¯s voice became more of a whisper. ¡°Their responsibility will be to recognize your ascension to the throne and then renew their wars with us.¡±

    ¡°So you said. You didn¡¯t say that there were fifty of them.¡±

    ¡°Only twenty three, sire.¡± Gorfeld paused. ¡°The late Sorceress was¡­industrious when it came to the borders of our Realm.¡±

    ¡°Obviously.¡± Matt shook his head. ¡°Okay, let¡¯s get this over with.¡±

    He accelerated his pace, forcing Gorfeld into something like a skipping jog beside him. The Imp muttered something under his breath, but Matt ignored him as he approached the group of loyalists, who were waiting for him with half-hostile expectation¡ªexcept for Tek, of course, who seemed absorbed in his own musings.

    None of them appeared welcoming as he drew close. ¡°Hello. My name is Matthew Irons.¡±

    The nobles exchanged a look. Braden was the first to speak, his words echoing out from underneath his full helm. ¡°Good day¡­sire.¡±

    Matt heard the delay before his title, and he smiled. So it was going to be subtle politics, was it? ¡°I certainly hope so. Lord Braden, right? I was told you were the leader of the Red Moon Orcs.¡± He paused. ¡°Sorry, could you raise your helm? I like to see faces when I am talking to people.¡±

    There was a pause. Braden¡¯s stance grew uncertain, as if the request had thrown him off balance. Matt could see the Orc shift slightly, as if he was trying to find a reason to refuse, or to take offense. Then he slowly lifted the faceplate of the helmet, revealing a scarred face with two large, porcine tusks. Braden¡¯s skin was a rusty, brownish red, and he had eyes that seemed to be completely black.

    He smiled up at the Orc. ¡°Thank you! I am glad to meet you, Braden. I hope we can work well together¡ªthough I hope you won¡¯t feel like you need to wear that armor all the time. It must be heavy.¡±

    The Orc stiffened, and he barely his teeth slightly. ¡°I am strong, sire. I barely feel it.¡±

    ¡°All the same, it is good to be confident in the home of a friend, is it not?¡± Matt smiled. ¡°You wouldn¡¯t wear it at your own house, would you?¡±

    The question seemed to catch Braden almost completely off guard. He glanced at Gorfeld, but the steward seemed just as baffled. ¡°No, sire. It is dueling armor.¡±

    As soon as the words left Braden¡¯s mouth, the Orc¡¯s face seized up. Matt saw the signs of regret as clearly on that face as he had on dozens of suspects. Apparently, as fearsome a warrior as Braden could be, he could still say things he hadn¡¯t meant to. ¡°I understand. It must be a strong tradition among your people to wear it during feasts and ceremonies.¡±

    Braden nodded woodenly, and Matt let his smile show a little more teeth. ¡°All the same, unless you actually mean to duel someone, let¡¯s leave it at home next time.¡± He turned to Suluth before Braden could answer. ¡°And you must be Lady Suluth. From what I hear, you are our eyes and ears.¡±

    ¡°And occasional claws, sire.¡± Suluth¡¯s voice was a low, sibilant sound, one that reminded him of a blade on a whetstone. She tapped the handle of one of her blades and gave Braden a significant look. ¡°You need only give the command, and your enemies will be hunted down and slaughtered.¡±

    Matt ignored the muttered invective from Braden, who now lowered his faceplate with a snap. ¡°Oh. I thought we would have used the Grim Hounds for that. Or did I kill the last of those along with the Red Sorceress?¡±

    Suluth suddenly went tense. She turned her attention back to Matt with a wariness that made him regret leaving his gun at home for the thirtieth time that day. ¡°I believe¡­that those were the last, yes. No more remain in our kingdom.¡±

    ¡°Just as well, I guess.¡± Matt shrugged. ¡°They seemed hard to control. What good is a hunter when you can¡¯t trust them to follow your orders, right?¡±

    The Goblin¡¯s eyes darted to Gorfeld, who shrank back from her glare. When she looked back to Matt, she slowly nodded. ¡°You are correct, sire. We shall serve you better than they ever could.¡±

    ¡°I most certainly hope so. After all, they didn¡¯t exactly do the Sorceress much good.¡± Matt again turned from her to the last noble and paused. Tek was no longer studying the air. Instead, the old Imp was staring straight at him, with a penetrating gaze that reminded him of his grandfather. It was not a fond memory. ¡°Hello. You are called Tek?¡±

    Tek smiled. It was a broad, blossoming grin that showed his wide, flat teeth. ¡°Why yes, sire. That is what I am called.¡±

    Matt picked up on the smug tone immediately. Yes, very much like Grandfather. The old man had been a shady sort, the kind of old farmer that no one really trusted. His father had always been clear on how to handle that sort. Keep them off balance and keep them guessing. ¡°Of course, you wouldn¡¯t be called anything else, would you?¡±

    The Imp hesitated. His smile grew fixed. ¡°I am not aware of anyone using other names for me, no.¡±

    ¡°Because they haven¡¯t, or because there¡¯s nobody left alive to know about the others?¡± Matt let the old Imp blink at him in confusion, and then laughed, loud and hard. He stepped in close and clapped the Imp on the shoulder, nearly staggering him. ¡°Sorry, that¡¯s just an old joke. Don¡¯t think anything of it. It was good to meet you.¡±

    He turned and left Tek in his wake, the old Imp still too dumbfounded to respond. Gorfeld caught up with him in a few strides, skipping along for a moment before he spoke up. ¡°Sire, what was that?¡±

    ¡°They aren¡¯t rebelling, but they probably wouldn¡¯t hesitate if they got the chance to stab me to death and take the throne, right?¡± Matt smirked a little as he bore down on the second group. ¡°Well, it¡¯s to my advantage to keep them off balance and uncertain. If they aren¡¯t sure what I know or what I¡¯m doing, it¡¯ll make it easier to steer them where I want them to go.¡±

    Gorfeld¡¯s answer was low and quiet. ¡°It might also convince them they should rebel now, before you do something unexpected.¡±

    ¡°Then I had better keep moving before they make up their minds.¡±

    The Imp made a slight grunting noise, but Matt ignored him. He saw the group of Low Folk stir as he approached, but he made a calming motion. ¡°Hello, my name is Matthew Irons. You represent my people?¡±

    His question didn¡¯t exactly have the intended effect. The entire group dropped to one knee, bowing low. One of them, a Goblin, removed his hat and bowed a little further forward than the rest. ¡°Sire, we swear ourselves to your service. We shall serve you until¡ª¡±

    ¡°Wait, wait, wait. Just hold on.¡± The huddled representatives stiffened, and Matt quickly, hoping to not give them enough time to panic. ¡°Please, stand up. I don¡¯t need you to bow quite so low. You make me feel tall enough already.¡±

    They exchanged looks between each other, and Matt watched them think the situation over. He could imagine what they were debating. They¡¯d seen him speak with the leaders of the nation, and leave them worried and uncertain. It was obvious they expected a lot less leniency or respect. Given the way things were decorated, he wouldn¡¯t have put it past previous rulers to start out with executions or other punishments.

    Slowly, the group came to their feet. The Goblin who¡¯d spoken held his hat before him with both hands. Matt tried not to notice they were shaking. ¡°S-sire. We swear ourselves¡ª¡±

    Matt interrupted the poor man once more, keeping his voice even and calm. ¡°I apologize, but before you start, one last thing. May I have your names?¡±

    The Goblin blanched a little, his tough brown skin growing a little pale. ¡°I am called Sapor, sire.¡±

    Matt nodded. ¡°Nice to meet you, Sapor. Can you do me a favor?¡± Sapor glanced up at him, astonishment on his face, and Matt smiled before the Goblin yanked his eyes down again. ¡°I have a custom from my home that we follow when two people meet with good intentions. It would help me feel comfortable if we did it now. Would you help me?¡±

    Sapor was shaking a little more now, but the Goblin nodded.

    ¡°Good. Now, reach out your right hand and grab mine¡­¡±

    Matt talked them through the process of shaking hands, starting with Sapor. He showed them how to perform the gesture and told them how it meant a promise of peace. Gorfeld stood to the side as Matt shook each of their hands, asked each of them a question or two, and then moved to the next.

    When he¡¯d finished, he smiled at them again. ¡°Again, thank you for your help. I will remember it.¡± A murmur of shocked acknowledgement came back from them, and he smiled wider. ¡°We¡¯re going to have a lot of work ahead, and I hope to meet with you again soon to discuss it. Until then.¡±

    If you spot this narrative on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

    They murmured again, and some of them bowed a second time before he turned away. He started toward the third group, with Gorfeld quickly at his heels. The little Imp was whispering before Matt was even sure they had cleared earshot of the Low Folk. ¡°Sire, what are you doing? You left your loyalists uncertain and greeted serfs like friends! Now you go to face your rebels before you even take the throne?¡±

    ¡°Once I take the throne, they¡¯re going to rebel. We haven¡¯t hit that point yet.¡± Matt forced himself to shrug, though he felt a building tension inside him. The four nobles that faced him now were glaring at him, obviously impatient. ¡°Maybe I can talk them out of it, maybe not. There¡¯s no harm in trying.¡±

    ¡°Then you should have gone to them first! The Low Folk can¡¯t do anything if the High Clans turn against you!¡±

    ¡°Can they? I think, one way or another, we¡¯re going to find out¡± Matt glanced at Gorfeld, feeling a little burst of pleasure at the Imp¡¯s disbelief. ¡°We¡¯d be better off with them solidly on our side than any number of nobles.¡±

    Gorfeld blinked, his mouth falling open. He seemed about to protest, but he caught himself before he did. ¡°Are you serious, sire?¡±

    ¡°As a heart attack.¡± Matt gave him another smile. This one was not as friendly as before. ¡°I warned you that I was going to change things. If it makes you feel any better, I am following some old advice. Something I read in a book once.¡±

    The Imp closed his mouth and shook his head slightly. ¡°You would govern us out of a book?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m only keeping my bargain, Gorfeld. If you would rather I go home and turn it all over to you, just let me know.¡± He waited for a moment until the Imp¡¯s shoulders slumped. ¡°That¡¯s what I thought. Now let¡¯s get going. We¡¯ve almost waited long enough.¡±

    Matt caught a bit of confusion in Gorfeld¡¯s eyes before he turned away, and he suppressed a smug grin. It wouldn¡¯t have looked right to the people he was going to speak with, and they looked more than mad enough already.

    He walked up to the soon-to-be-rebels with the same measured stride and then stopped in front of them. There was a moment of silence as they studied each other.

    Then he nodded. ¡°All right, I¡¯m going to need you all to get to work.¡±

    Whatever they had expected him to say, it hadn¡¯t been that. The Gnome, still slinking around behind the larger beings, jumped a little, and both Orcs looked a little dumbfounded. The Frost Elf, however, lifted her chin in clear defiance. ¡°We will not take orders from you, Matthew Irons. The Elves of Winterfast will stand alone.¡±

    Matt laughed. He enjoyed a moment of shock and anger on Itrelia¡¯s face, and then he shook his head. ¡°I¡¯m sure that sounds wonderful, my lady, but do you really expect it to work?¡±

    The Frost Elf snarled at him, taking a step forward. ¡°We do not fear you. The Red Sorceress might have commanded us, but her best now lie dead, and your threats are empty.¡± Her lips curved in a cruel smile. ¡°From what I have seen, you¡¯ll be dead within the year.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ll last longer than you. Unless you are proposing to set yourselves up together?¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t be a fool.¡± Itrelia waved at the Orcs. ¡°Their homelands are far from our homes. Not that I would care to work with such scum, anyway.¡± The Frost Elf ignored the snarls from her fellow rebels, and continued in a clear voice. ¡°Our forces are more than enough to handle whatever you have left. You¡¯ll be too busy with your desperate wars of survival to retaliate.¡±

    Matt raised his eyebrows. ¡°Oh. You think I¡¯m the one you need to worry about?¡±

    Itrelia spread her hands wide. ¡°Who else is there, dolt?¡±

    ¡°Wow. Haven¡¯t heard that one in a while.¡± Matt shook his head again and then lowered his voice. ¡°I still haven¡¯t looked at all the maps yet, so enlighten me. How many of the ambassadors and messengers over there come from places that border your forest?¡±

    The Frost Elf began another biting retort and then paused. Before she could answer, Matt turned to the others. ¡°Grufen, Teblas, how many of them share a border with your tribes? And Nuramesh, do you think any of these three have any intention of helping you against either me or that pack of wolves over there?¡± He let the question hang for a moment, meeting each of their eyes in turn. When he came back to Itrelia, he caught her glancing in the direction of the messengers. Her expression was quite a bit less haughty than it had been a moment ago.

    Grufen spoke up, his helm concealing his own expression effectively. ¡°Some of those messengers might hold agreements for us. Assurances, in exchange for our help against you.¡±

    ¡°And you trust them?¡± Matt met the Orc¡¯s eyes levelly. ¡°Why would they keep their word once you are under their control? Even better, what would change for you then? Just the person who gives you the orders.¡±

    Grufen grunted. It sounded a bit like laughter. ¡°That¡¯s already happening either way.¡±

    ¡°True. But at least with me, you¡¯ll have proved yourselves loyal in a time of doubt. With them, you¡¯ll be a turncoat¡ªand once a turncoat, always a turncoat.¡± Matt shrugged. ¡°You may have had a bad deal with the Red Sorceress, but you won¡¯t with me. You betray me, and it will go badly for you, no matter what happens to me.¡±

    Itrelia shook her head. ¡°Meaningless promises. You won¡¯t last long without our help. Even with it, they will crush you.¡±

    Matt met her eyes and gave her a slow smile. ¡°I bet we¡¯ll surprise you. They may be looking for an easy war, but they¡¯ll find a bit more than they bargained for. The only way your territory doesn¡¯t get turned into a war zone is if you get your armies back to guarding the borders they should have been watching in the first place.¡±

    Nuramesh piped up, still half-hidden by Grufen. ¡°And if we have gone too far already? If the rebellion has already begun?¡±

    Matt changed his attention to the Gnome, and the little guy cringed out of sheer reflex. ¡°As far as I¡¯m concerned, nothing¡¯s started until I take the throne officially. Once I do, though, you¡¯ll be dealing with King Matthew, not just Matthew Irons. At that point, my choices are going to be limited. If you still rebel, then I¡¯ll have to destroy you.¡±

    Teblas broke in, his voice harsh and unyielding, like grating stones. ¡°Easy words. Hard work.¡±

    Despite himself, Matt laughed again. ¡°True, I suppose, but I have no other choice. A wise man once said, if you have an enemy, either destroy him or leave him alone. I¡¯m not going to injure you a bit and leave you to keep plotting behind my back.¡± He looked around at all four of them, trying to gauge the effect of his words. ¡°Any last thoughts before I head to the throne? I can wait a little longer if you need to talk amongst yourselves.¡±

    Itrelia snorted. ¡°As if there is much to discuss. We would be better served by asking for help from your other visitors.¡± She indicated the crowd of messengers with a contemptuous flick of her head.

    Matt raised his eyebrows again. ¡°Well, I¡¯m sure you could try. After all, they seem so happy with you at the moment. Patient too.¡± He grinned a little¡ªa diplomat was already stalking over to them, outrage clearly stamped on his features. Right on time.

    ¡°What is the meaning of this?¡±

    The question rang through the throne room, and Matt turned with deliberate slowness to face the man. If he hadn¡¯t looked closely, he might have thought it was a human. Looking closer, however, he saw the same strange eyes that the Red Sorceress and her would-be victims had the night before. His features were slightly sharper than a human¡¯s, with a strange tendency to move in quick, nervous jerks. The two that Matt had met in the storage facility must have looked similar out of the rain.

    Of course, they had been wearing robes, not a full set of plate armor. Gorfeld had referred to them as two sides of the same coin. The robe and staff types were called Wizards and were experts in magic. There were quite a few of them among the crowd of diplomats.

    The ones with armor, though, were called Knights. They kept their magic inside, using it to fortify their bodies. Apparently, just one Knight had the strength of several other people, depending on their power. This one, who was still staring at him with barely contained contempt and indignation, might have been able to contain quite a bit of magic in his generous potbelly.

    He nodded to the Knight and kept his voice calm. ¡°My name is Matthew Irons. Who are you?¡±

    The man drew himself up, swishing his red and purple cloak around himself with a practiced gesture. He was shorter than Matt by a full head, but the Knight still seemed to manage to stare down his nose at him. ¡°I am Sir Hethwellow Durest, of the Knights of Griffon. I¡ª¡±

    ¡°It is a pleasure to meet you, Sir Hethwellow, but at the moment, I am speaking with some of my people. You can wait until I am done.¡± Matt spoke in that same firm, even voice despite the sudden shock that spread over Hethwellow¡¯s features. He turned back to the four nobles, all of whom were eyeing him in surprise. ¡°Now, where were we?¡±

    Hethwellow came in right on cue. ¡°I demand you take your throne so that we can be on with things! Your mutterings with these creatures has been a waste of everyone¡¯s time.¡±

    Matt looked back at the Knight and let a bit of steel into his voice. ¡°Your demands are noted. I will take the throne in a moment, but not before I finish my conversation.¡±

    The Knight seemed to swell with indignation. ¡°Your conversation is not worth one more minute of my time. Whatever bargains you may be trying to reach with these fools does not matter. Take the throne so I can place our defiance before you and be done with this place.¡±

    By the end of his outburst, Hethwellow looked so smug that he could have practically floated away on the buoyancy of his own ego alone. Matt glanced back at him again, and then looked at the rebels. ¡°So you¡¯re saying that these people matter more to me than they ever will to any of you, Sir Hethwellow?¡±

    Hethwellow chuckled, a surprisingly arrogant sound. ¡°Of course. Why should I care about your petty minions?¡±

    Matt risked a quick look at Gorfeld, who was staring at him in openmouthed astonishment. Then he grinned at the rebels, who were staring in turn at the Knight. ¡°From the mouths of fools, my friends. You have until I reach the throne to decide.¡±

    He turned and walked toward the throne, taking careful, measured steps. The idea was to give the rebels just enough time to panic, but not enough to reassure themselves. It would be a bad idea to rush them, too; if he got too close to the throne, they might decide that they had waited too long.

    Matt had taken four steps before he heard Teblas bark something in surprise. He risked a quick look back and saw Nuramesh scurrying across the floor towards the group of loyalists. To his gratification, Grufen was striding along behind him, with a bit more dignity, but with no less determination. Braden, Suluth, and Tek were all watching their would-be deserters approach with clear surprise. Suluth even reached for one of her blades before a whisper from Tek stopped her.

    Two out of four, then. Not bad. Now he had one last thing to do before the day was done.

    He made sure that his pace gave both former rebels enough time to stand with their supposedly more-loyal friends before he reached the dais. Then he started up the steps, taking them one at a time as he climbed towards the throne itself.

    It was made of black iron, or some kind of metal. The surface shone with the red light of the stained glass, and Matt suppressed a shiver. He knew that Gorfeld had already gone over the thing, and the Imp had been relatively certain that no magical surprises were waiting for him when he sat down, but it was still making him nervous.

    He paused beside the throne and turned back to the crowd of messengers. ¡°When I take this throne, I will be assuming the rule of this kingdom. Once I do, there will be nothing that I will not do to make this place a safe and stable home for all the peoples of my realm.¡± Matt paused, noting that some of the messengers looked more agitated now. One of them was outright glaring at Hethwellow. Perhaps the ones who had been making promises to Grufen and Nuramesh? ¡°I understand that many of you have come bearing declarations of war against us. I ask you, why?¡±

    The question suddenly brought stillness to the crowd, as if it surprised them. He continued before any of them could answer. The last thing he wanted was for Hethwellow or somebody like him to pull the conversation into a shouting match. ¡°You may have had your disagreements with the Red Sorceress, but I am not her. In fact, I¡¯m the one who killed her for you. Why would you declare war on me for that act?¡±

    One of the Wizards stepped forward, his deep green robes swirling about him. His too-large eyes and expression seemed serious, and his voice was a deep, solemn sound. ¡°While you may not be her, your people were once her servants. Her death does not excuse their crimes against their neighbors. Their actions cry out for punishment.¡±

    Matt fixed him with a stare. ¡°And your crimes, are they not equally serious? Or do you pretend to not have committed any against the people of these lands?¡± He held up a hand as the messenger started to speak again. ¡°Yes, I¡¯m sure that you were doing only what was necessary. It is an excuse that I¡¯ve heard many times before. Do you think my people did not have a similar belief in their wars against you? And did they even have a choice, with the Red Sorceress at their head?¡±

    The question brought a sudden silence, and the green cloaked Wizard seemed troubled. Hethwellow stepped forward and helpfully filled the silence. ¡°It does not matter what reasoning you throw at us. We have been charged to declare war against you and your barbaric creatures, and we shall. It is our duty to those we serve.¡±

    ¡°And will your liege lords thank you for serving them so blindly?¡± Matt shook his head. ¡°I do not wish to see us fight any of you. Enough blood has probably already been shed. At the same time, do not deceive yourselves into thinking that a fight against us will be easy.¡±

    Hethwellow snorted. ¡°With what forces? Your creatures will be ripe for defeat without their Sorceress to shield them.¡±

    ¡°Even with the one who killed her leading them?¡± Matt let a silence follow. He watched the confidence drain from the faces of some of the messengers. Hethwellow looked around, his own expression becoming even more irritated as he read the sudden doubts on his allies¡¯ faces. ¡°If you come to fight, we will fight. You may feel certain of victory now, but are you absolutely sure you are right? War can change fortunes so quickly.¡± He paused again, and let a slow smile grow on his lips. ¡°There is a wise saying in my world. Wars begin when you want, but they do not end when you wish. Think on that, before you commit your people to a course that may lead to disaster.¡±

    More of the messengers looked uneasy now, and some of them were stepping aside to mutter amongst themselves. Matt could see the shape of some alliances, some of whom had looked distressed when Nuramesh and Grufen had turned loyalist. He might not have stopped the wars, but maybe he had discouraged enough of them to slow things down.

    He nodded. ¡°Well, I¡¯ve said what I needed to say. It is time.¡±

    When he turned, he saw Gorfeld standing beside the throne. There was a thin metal band in his hand, a crown made of the same dark metal as the throne. It looked like it had been crudely worked, and something about the craftmanship suggested an age that made the rest of the throne room seem newly made. Gorfeld offered the crown to him, and Matt took it carefully. He turned to face the assembly and raised it in the air.

    ¡°By right of conquest, I claim the throne of the Crimson Peaks, now to be known as the Kingdom of Iron. I claim the mastery over the realm, the fealty of the nobles, and the obedience of their peoples.¡± The words had been drilled into him by Gorfeld, who had insisted that the ceremony was more than a mere show. Given the way magic seemed to permeate everything in the place, Matt had trusted him.

    At least, he trusted the Imp up to a certain point. The normal ceremony had him demanding that they serve him until the end of his days. It was a bit much to ask from a boy raised in Wyoming, though. Just a step too far.

    ¡°I will serve them and justify their trust for all the days of my reign.¡± He heard Gorfeld suck in a sudden breath. The nobles and messengers below went still in shock. ¡°I will keep the law and defend their rights. To those who abuse them, I will bring war. With those who support them, I will build peace and prosperity. Let this be the start of a new day.¡±

    With those words, he shoved the crown down onto his head. The instant the metal touched his brow, a sudden clap of lightning tore the air outside. Then another. Two more. Yet another. Another two more almost on top of that. The bolts began striking so fast and strong that the glass of the windows began to shiver. Overlapping thunder swallowed the alarmed shouts of the assembly.

    Yet Matt barely heard or saw any of it. Power¡ªimpossible to describe with any other word¡ªfilled him. Energy crackled along his limbs, and he twitched in surprise as every hair on his body seemed to stand on end. He went up on his toes and gaped with alarm as he felt his feet begin to drift up from the floor. What had to be magic coursed through him, while the sky roared in fury outside.

    Then there was a triple flash of lightning, so close it cast the whole throne room in lurid, blinding light. The boom cracked every single window, and the roar of super-heated air seemed to last forever.

    Then the power fled, and Matt collapsed to one knee. He shook his head, dazed by the energy that had rushed through him. A faint scent of burnt hair wafted past his nose, and he coughed a little. When he brought his hand away from his mouth, he could taste a bit of blood. Every muscle of his body ached, as if he had done some weightlifting and run a marathon back to back.

    All the same, he forced himself to stand. If he seemed as unsteady as he felt, the wide-eyed people that stared up at him didn¡¯t seem to notice it. Matt stared back at each of them, sweeping his gaze across all of them in turn.

    Then he smiled. ¡°All right. Let¡¯s begin.¡±

 B1Ch4: Mapping a Solution

    ¡°Well that is finally over.¡±

    Matt walked into the room and tossed his crown onto the broad, flat table it contained. There were a series of other chairs set up around it, but he and Gorfeld were the only ones who were there. He fell more than sat in the nearest chair and slumped over the table, using his forearms as a pillow.

    Behind him, he heard Gorfeld ease the door shut. The Imp had been a constant presence, hovering at his side as the events of the coronation had unfolded. There hadn¡¯t been all that many surprises, but still¡­

    ¡°I was impressed, sire. You managed to dissuade almost half of them from declaring war.¡±

    The cautious tone to the words was interesting, given how much the Imp knew about his new king, but Matt ignored that irony and focused on the actual words themselves. ¡°Yeah. I was hoping for at least a third, and we managed a bit more than that.¡±

    A full nine of the twenty-three messengers had awkwardly congratulated him on ascending to the throne and then excused themselves to communicate with their lieges. The remaining fourteen had been far from sure of their own victory at that point. Even Hethwellow had seemed a little off balance, his face starting to sweat even as he delivered his promised declaration of war.

    There was a pause, and Matt lifted his head from the table. He looked over to find the Imp hesitating by the door, as if he was trying to pick his next words carefully. ¡°Come on, Gorfeld. Out with it.¡±

    The Imp still waited a moment longer, and then he spoke carefully. ¡°I noticed that you¡­modified the coronation ritual, sire.¡±

    Matt cracked a tired smile. ¡°Yeah. I know.¡± He waved a negligent hand. ¡°All that stuff about demanding fealty and devotion just rang hollow to me, so I changed it a bit. Made it closer to something the leaders in my world sometimes say.¡±

    ¡°I¡­see.¡±

    ¡°Besides, I wasn¡¯t going to swear to stay here the rest of my days, like you said I would need to. I figured there wasn¡¯t any harm in changing that part to mention it would last until the end of my reign.¡± Matt eyed the Imp. ¡°Though you could have mentioned about the light show and the hovering thing. I didn¡¯t realize anything like that was going to happen.¡±

    Gorfeld dry washed his hands for a moment and looked away. ¡°If you¡¯ll forgive me, sire¡­that¡¯s because it¡¯s the first time I¡¯ve seen that happen. The only time I¡¯ve ever even heard of it, in fact.¡±

    Matt paused. He ran back through the memories of the coronation, remembering the shock and fear on the faces he¡¯d seen. ¡°Oh.¡±

    ¡°Yes. Oh.¡±

    He tried another smile. It felt a little hollow. ¡°Any chance you haven¡¯t seen that many?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ve been present for four coronations here in the throne room, and I¡¯ve acted as my master¡¯s messenger at three others.¡± Gorfeld¡¯s eyes locked onto Matt now, his cat-irised pupils focused. ¡°Again, this is the only time I¡¯ve seen anything more than a crackle of magic around the crown itself.¡±

    It was hard to tell if the Imp thought the abnormality was a good thing or a bad one. Matt decided that either way, he was in up to his neck now, and shrugged it off. ¡°We¡¯ll have to search the records or something and figure out what might explain it. I wouldn¡¯t want¡­¡±

    He trailed off as he realized the Imp had let an important detail slip. ¡°Wait. Four coronations? How old are you?¡±

    Gorfeld fidgeted slightly. His expression grew a little hunted, and he looked away. ¡°I have seen at least twenty-seven winters, sire.¡±

    ¡°Twenty-seve¡ª! How far apart were each of those coronations? Seven years?¡±

    ¡°Closer to four, sire. The shortest was three.¡± Gorfeld shrugged. ¡°I was too young and inexperienced to attend the others.¡±

    Matt stared at the Imp for a moment longer. ¡°Each of them only lasted four years. Is that unusual?¡±

    ¡°Not particularly. Our monarchs have always been beings of power and action, and such things attract competition easily.¡± The Imp glanced back at Matt and then looked away again. ¡°There are other kingdoms whose rulers live longer, but they are rarely in as¡­interesting a situation as our realm is in.¡±

    ¡°Obviously.¡± Matt shook his head. He doubted that any of those previous rulers had died from old age or accidents, either. Waiting around until the same thing happened to him didn¡¯t seem like a good idea either.

    Thus motivated, he looked back at Gorfeld. ¡°All right, then. Let¡¯s get started. I need maps.¡±

    Gorfeld blinked. ¡°Of the palace, sire?¡±

    ¡°No, the kingdom. I want to see all of our territory, our borders, all of it.¡±

    ¡°Ah, yes.¡± Gorfeld nodded hesitantly. ¡°I can request that the appropriate maps be gathered and brought here. It may take some time.¡±

    Matt resisted the urge to look at that delay as an excuse to rest. ¡°You have to gather them? Who has the maps?¡±

    ¡°The Red Sorceress entrusted most of such information to the leaders of the High Clans. They were instructed to arrange things as she demanded, and¡ª¡±

    He suddenly wished that the woman was alive, if only so he could shoot her again. ¡°Tell them to bring all their maps to me. I want them all here immediately, with whatever information they have about our settlements, troops, and enemies. If they aren¡¯t here within two hours, I¡¯ll start looking for someone who will listen to instructions better. Any questions?¡±

    Gorfeld straightened up. Surprise and alarm warred for prominence on his face. ¡°No, sire. I¡¯ll tell them right away, sire.¡±

    The Imp was out the door and running before Matt could even dismiss him. With a tired sigh, Matt pushed himself up and walked over to the door to close it. He doubted he would have much time, but at least he was going to try to rest a little before all the shouting started.

    The first to arrive was Nuramesh, his arms wrapped around an untidy pile of parchment that threatened to spill out with every step. Matt stood as the Gnome entered. ¡°Welcome!¡±

    Nuramesh jumped in surprise and then made a desperate grab that kept one of the scrolls from falling out of his grip. ¡°Th-thank you, sire! I appreciate the opportunity to be here.¡±

    Matt fought to keep himself from frowning. He had needed to scare the little guy, if only to keep his people from rebelling, but the last thing he needed was for Nuramesh¡¯s spirit to remain permanently broken. ¡°I¡¯m glad to hear it, Nuramesh. What do you have for me?¡±

    The Gnome stared at him, blinking a little. Then he moved forward, his hands shaking a bit as he tried to rummage through the scrolls. ¡°I-I have our most recent survey maps and the best trail charts for the northwestern passages. You should be able to see how far we¡¯ve delved easily, sire.¡±

    He nodded along as the Gnome deposited his pile on the table, reaching up in a mostly futile attempt at stacking them in some kind of incomprehensible order. ¡°I see. So I believe your people are in charge of the mines in that area?¡±

    ¡°Y-yes, sire.¡± The Gnome nodded. ¡°We have brought ore from the Carfesh Rift for the past seven rulers of the realm. We are eager to serve your cause.¡±

    So eager, Matt noted, that they had been more than willing to rebel if it gave them the chance to escape. ¡°I¡¯m happy to hear that.¡± He leaned over and began to sift through the stacks of paper himself. ¡°These tunnel networks are quite¡­extensive. You still haven¡¯t run short of metal?¡±

    ¡°No, sire. There are many active seams that hold great promise.¡± Nuramesh¡¯s voice was laced with a combination of fear and desperation. ¡°Our work will continue to provide you with what you need.¡±

    ¡°Okay.¡± Matt¡¯s attention had already drifted away, back to where the map of the trail charts showed the Gnomes¡¯ territory. ¡°Your homes are in the Small Heights, right? Basically, everything up to and almost under the Bronze Range?¡±

    Nuramesh nodded, his eyes looking momentarily distant. ¡°Yes, sire. We have shared a border with the Red Moon Orcs to our south for a long time. In fact, it was their warriors that conquered us and made us a part of the kingdom.¡±

    It was obvious from the look on Nuramesh¡¯s face that the events had not left behind a lot of fond remembrances. Matt glanced back at the map. ¡°It looks like you share a border with the Winterfast, as well. Itrelia¡¯s territory.¡±

    ¡°Yes.¡± Nuramesh¡¯s expression grew hunted. ¡°She was¡­very persuasive, sire. I regret listening to her.¡±

    Matt held up a hand. ¡°All water under the bridge. You already made the right choice.¡± Internally, however, it showed what Itrelia¡¯s real objectives had likely been after. With the Gnomes and the Frost Elves united, they could turn on the Red Moons and attack the Spirelands at the same time. With a good supply of weaponry and a few other advantages, she might have had a good chance of pushing all the way to the capital.

    Not that he had any intention of allowing that to happen.

    The doors parted before he could say anything else, however, and both Braden and Grufen walked through, carrying their own smaller bundles of maps. Neither Orc seemed to pay much attention to the other, though they had left plenty of space between them. Grufen bowed slightly, followed a moment later by Braden. ¡°Sire.¡±

    Matt eyed their dueling armor and raised an eyebrow. ¡°I¡¯ll forgive the armor, since it¡¯s been a long day, but next time you might respond quicker without it.¡± He gestured to the table. ¡°Okay, let¡¯s see what you have.¡±

    The Orcs exchanged a glance. Grufen was the first to step forward and add a patch of crudely drawn maps to the pile. ¡°Here is the information that I have, sire.¡±

    ¡°Thanks.¡± Matt sorted through them quickly. They showed the western portions of the kingdom, out past Braden¡¯s homelands in the Red Plains, and to the southwest of the Small Heights. The Hard Scythe Orcs lived in the Broken Hills, populating an area with little farmland and hostile Elves for neighbors to the west. Not the happiest location, but at least those Elves hadn¡¯t been among the group that had already declared war. He looked over at the other Orc. ¡°Braden?¡±

    The Red Moon grunted sourly. He dumped his own maps on the table, apparently disgruntled at the task. ¡°Here, sire.¡±

    ¡°Again, my thanks.¡± Matt picked through them, scoring a decent map of the southern borders, a suspiciously vague one about Braden¡¯s clan home, and one that showed roughly the same area as Nuramesh¡¯s trail routes. There was also a fairly decent one of the capital itself. ¡°You have a map of Redspire?¡±

    ¡°Yes, sire.¡± Braden¡¯s smile was obvious, even under his helm. ¡°Fearing for the security of the capital, I brought several hundred men, and I wanted to know where to station them during your coronation.¡±

    The implicit threat was obvious, but Matt simply grinned. He didn¡¯t think the Orc was ready for a military coup, not until he knew what the others were going to do. ¡°That is excellent. I¡¯ll put them to good use shortly.¡±

    Braden¡¯s stance seemed to go slightly awry, and he gave Grufen a suspicious glance before the doors opened once again. This time, Tek and Suluth came through together, followed quickly by Gorfeld. The Low Imp steward seemed out of breath, though neither Tek nor Suluth showed any signs of it. ¡°They¡­are here¡­sire.¡±

    This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

    ¡°Excellent.¡± He waved the gathered nobles to their seats, grinning widely. ¡°Just place your maps here, and we¡¯ll get started.¡±

    The High Imp and the Goblin padded forward to deposit their maps and then retreated a little. Both of them eyed the other nobles carefully, with Suluth touching the handle of a blade when she passed both Grufen and Braden. Neither Orc reacted, but they both watched her until she took a seat. Tek, on the other hand, watched Matt for a moment, as if expecting something. When Matt simply ignored him to pour over the maps, the High Imp muttered something and took the seat closest to him.

    Matt organized his pile of maps again, searching for a way to lay them out that would show the entire situation. Suluth had brought maps of her own territory in the Dark Woods to the south¡ªagain, almost blatantly vague¡ªwhile she had also provided a much more highly detailed map of the Orcish homelands. Tek had included his own map of the capital, and then another that apparently traced the leylines throughout the realm. He found others showing the Impish lands to the east and south, as well as a few from the Leaffall Orcs to the southeast.

    He paused, tapping a section of a map that Suluth had included. ¡°This here. The Sortenmoors. About half the people who declared war on us mentioned this place.¡±

    Braden¡¯s voice carried a bored, almost challenging tone. ¡°Yes, sire. The Red Sorceress had us seize the place from the Wizards of Celrii. In response, they formed the Alliance of Light to retake it. We¡¯ve fought over it for the past two years.¡±

    Matt grunted. ¡°Who lives there now? Wizards?¡±

    ¡°Some.¡± Tek sounded a bit bored as well. ¡°There are also some Orcs and Goblins, though not many have chosen to settle a place where wars are still being fought.¡±

    ¡°I see.¡± He traced the borders of those lowlands, noting how close they were to the Leaffall Orc homeland in the Copper Hills. He could see the edges of Teblas¡¯ plan as well, now. All the Orc had to do was cross the Grim Hollows¡ªa region that apparently had only a few Low Folk nobles and villages scattered across it¡ªand the rebel could take the Sortenmoors for his own use. Too bad it was going to be a pain to counter the move, but he had to work with what he had.

    When he looked up, he found all of them staring at him. He smiled. ¡°All right, so to summarize, we have four different fronts to fight on, and at least two of the seven regions of our home are in rebellion. Gorfeld was kind enough to tell me we have roughly six weeks before snow begins to fall. Is that correct, Tek?¡±

    The High Imp started slightly. He nodded. ¡°Yes, sire. Our forecasters have predicted a heavy winter, as well.¡±

    ¡°The campaigns against us are probably going to slow down at that point. So our first objective is to hold things steady until we get to winter. Does that seem wise?¡±

    The assembled nobles nodded, though some were far more emphatic than others. Matt looked down at the patchwork of maps before him, and made a mental note to have his own, more effective map drawn up. ¡°In that case, here is what we are going to do. Braden?¡±

    ¡°Yes, sire?¡± The Orc sat a little straighter in his seat. He seemed almost ready to spring out of the chair and declare a charge against something, which was more or less what Matt expected. Braden had seemed to be the most eager to fight, if only because it would give him the chance to take the glory he might need in order to usurp Matt¡¯s throne. It was a fair reminder that the supposed loyalists around him were only hesitating to kill him and take power because they weren¡¯t certain yet.

    Best to keep them off balance and uncertain then.

    ¡°You are to take all the soldiers you have in the capital and march out immediately. I want you to be in the Grim Hollows before the week is up.¡±

    ¡°Yes sire, I will make sure she¡ªwhat?¡±

    The confusion in the Orc¡¯s voice was beautiful to hear, but Matt didn¡¯t let the smile touch his lips. ¡°I am sending you to the Grim Hollows. Gather whatever troops you can from the villages and nobles there as soon as you can. When they join you, I want you to push as far into the Copper Hills as quickly as you can before snow stops you.¡±

    ¡°But¡­sire.¡± He could almost smell the Orc¡¯s attempt to phrase his words carefully. ¡°My homeland is closer to Winterfast than the Grim Hollows. Our kingdom would be served better if I gathered my forces there and launched an attack against the Frost Elves.¡±

    Matt looked at him, raising an eyebrow. ¡°That is probably what Itrelia is expecting us to do, yeah. I¡¯m sure she¡¯s got plenty of defenses ready for when we tried.¡± He shrugged. ¡°On the other hand, I¡¯m just as sure that Teblas is probably going to be crossing the Grim Hollows as soon as he can reach home. He¡¯ll be aiming for the Sortenmoors, since most of the settlers there are likely his people, and if he can take it from us, he¡¯ll have something he can use to barter for help from the Alliance of Light.¡±

    The sudden silence was slightly satisfying, though the sudden stricken expressions on some of his nobles were not filling him with optimism. Suluth spoke up, her voice suddenly concerned. ¡°With traitors at his back, I think even Braden might find it hard to stop the Leaffall Orcs.¡±

    He nodded. ¡°Which is why I will need to borrow one of your fastest riders, Suluth. I need to send a message to the Sortenmoors before Teblas can speak to them.¡± He looked at Gorfeld, gesturing for him to take up his ink and a blank parchment. ¡°Any being who takes up arms in defense of the kingdom in the Sortenmoors for at least one year will be granted the rights of a freeholder and a piece of land. Those who serve for two years, and are willing to fight beyond the Sortenmoors, gain those rights for themselves and for their immediate family.¡±

    There was a silence as the nobles looked at one another. Finally, Grufen was the one to break it. ¡°Freeholder, sire? I don¡¯t know that term.¡±

    ¡°It refers to a person who is not a serf, but is not raised to the nobility. Someone who owns their own land, who can move around the kingdom as they will, and can arm themselves.¡± He looked carefully around the table. ¡°They may also form Assemblies in order to pass laws that affect themselves, but not the nobility. In short, they owe fealty to the kingdom, but they are not in bondage.¡±

    There was another, more dangerous silence. Braden spoke up this time, his voice pitched low. ¡°A dangerous concept, sire. To free the serfs would¡ª¡±

    ¡°Immediately give us an army to hold the Sortenmoors. One that would be loyal to us, no matter what else is happening. After all, who else is going to give them that kind of promise?¡± He paused. There was another reason to do it, after all. Freeholders wouldn¡¯t be tied to a pack of treacherous nobles, and they would remember who had freed them. Within the year, the Sortenmoors were going to be a place that he could depend on to stand for him no matter what happened at the capital.

    He could see some of them thinking over the potential results of the declaration, but he didn¡¯t want them to think too hard on it. Better to keep the momentum going. ¡°In any case, that will help to guard your backs, and will keep the Alliance of Light busy, too. Especially since any Orcs that would join Teblas in rebellion are going to be tempted to stay with us instead.¡±

    Braden nodded slowly, his skepticism clear even through his armor. Matt smiled as he continued. ¡°Just to make sure, however, I will be sending Suluth and her best warriors to keep things secure.¡±

    Suluth turned to look at him, her expression growing still. ¡°You are, sire?¡±

    ¡°Yes.¡± Matt gave her a confident nod. ¡°I¡¯ll be depending on you to organize the freeholders that join you, and train them. You¡¯ll also need to keep the rebels already in the valley from gathering and becoming a problem. It will be difficult work, but I am sure that you can hold.¡±

    The Goblin nodded, her black eyes fixed on him. He was certain that she had hoped she would stay in the capital¡ªthe better to backstab both him and Braden, of course¡ªbut the lure of being the one to free the Sortenmoors and gain control of them seemed very tempting indeed. She nodded. ¡°It will be done, sire.¡±

    ¡°Good. I know I can count on you.¡± Matt smiled, fervently hoping that both Braden and Suluth would manage to get themselves killed before spring. ¡°One more thing you must do. If the Alliance of Light gets a clear picture of what is happening, they may try to press the advantage. Keep them from doing so. Kill or capture any scouts or spies they send across the border. Let none escape. If a bird flies from the Sortenmoors south, I want it to be because you and your troops made sure it was loyal to us first. Am I clear?¡±

    Suluth nodded silently, and Matt turned back to Braden. ¡°There. Your rearguard will be protected, and you have your mission. Bring Teblas down and take back our land.¡± Another idea occurred to him, and he held up a finger. ¡°But be careful. I don¡¯t want to lose one of my best commanders. Do not let him provoke you into single combat.¡±

    Braden stiffened slightly. His fingers twitched, as if he wanted to reach for the sword at his side. When he finally responded, it was a low growl. ¡°Of course, sire. I will strive to avoid it.¡±

    ¡°Thank you.¡± Matt clapped his hands, silently cheerful. If the Red Moon Orc got himself killed in a duel, so much the better. ¡°Then go. The sooner you are both moving south, the better. My steward will entrust the message to the serfs there, and I¡¯ll be sure to send duplicates soon to get the word out faster.¡±

    If he hadn¡¯t been watching for it, he would have missed the slight hesitation from Suluth. Clearly the Goblin had wanted to waylay the message and prevent the serfs from ever hearing about the plan to free them. He wasn¡¯t going to make it that easy, however. Sooner rather than later, both Braden and Suluth were going to be in the middle of a war surrounded by troops loyal to him, and him only. It was the best that he could do, given the circumstances.

    Not that he was done. As soon as the two nobles strode out of the room, he turned to Grufen. The Hard Scythe Orc was watching him carefully, his helmet off and his face bare. There was skepticism in those eyes, which was justified enough. ¡°Are there any questions before we continue?¡±

    Grufen paused, and the remaining nobles exchanged another look among themselves. Clearly, they had plenty to say, but no one wanted to be the first to bring the subject up. When no one spoke, Matt spread out the maps, looking for another one. ¡°All right then. The next phase of our plan will depend heavily on you, Grufen.¡±

    The Orc blinked. ¡°It will, sire?¡±

    ¡°Yeah.¡± Matt selected a map that showed the border of the Hard Scythe territory and the Small Heights where Nuramesh¡¯s Gnomes lived. He traced a path from one to the other. ¡°I want you to return home immediately. I know most of your forces are gathered there, probably to fight off anything anyone was going to throw at you.¡± He left unsaid that they were likely expecting to fight against him and his loyalists. ¡°Take them and every piece of supplies you can find and reinforce our holdings in the Small Heights. Nuramesh, you are to reinforce him and keep him and his Orcs as well supplied as possible.¡±

    Nuramesh jumped a little in his seat. He glanced at Gorfeld before he answered. ¡°Y-yes, sire. Of course.¡±

    ¡°Why?¡± Grufen¡¯s question was a blunt hammer, one that brought the momentum of the conversation to a halt. Matt looked back at Grufen, finding the Orc staring at him. His expression was one of frustration and confusion, but not one of anger. ¡°Why are you sending me to the Small Heights? Do you not trust these little ones to stay loyal? Or are you trying to keep an eye on both of us?¡±

    Matt glanced at Nuramesh, who was cringing a bit lower in his chair. He shook his head. ¡°No, Grufen. There¡¯s something else going on.¡±

    He reached out to the maps again. ¡°Both your territory and the Small Heights border one another, but there¡¯s probably never been much interaction, right?¡± Matt swept one finger out to the western border, where the mapmaker had scribbled the names of several nations. ¡°I recognize some of these names. I¡¯m sure some of them offered you plenty of promises if you abandoned us. When you didn¡¯t, they held off on declaring war against us.¡±

    Grufen nodded reluctantly, and Matt continued. ¡°I assume that Nuramesh made similar arrangements, but probably with more than one group. He might have talked to the Dwarves, but I didn¡¯t see many of their messengers here today, so it might not have worked. So Nuramesh would have turned to someone else.¡±

    The Orc looked from Matt to the Gnome. His eyes suddenly widened. ¡°Itrelia? You would have trusted her?¡±

    Nuramesh cringed a little more, but he brought his chin up stubbornly. ¡°S-she promised that we would be free. That we would no longer know the slavery the Redspire has given us.¡±

    ¡°I doubt she meant to keep that promise, but I understand, Nuramesh.¡± Matt kept his voice even and then switched to another map. This one showed Itrelia¡¯s territory, Winterfast, and the border between it and the High Peaks, Spirelands, and the Small Heights. ¡°What she did mean to do, however, was use your territory, though. Her plans are probably not to just sit in her woods and wait for us. She¡¯s going to be coming for the throne, in her own way.¡±

    ¡°And she¡¯ll have been counting on the Small Heights to be friendly.¡± Grufen nodded slowly, his eyes now fixed on the map.

    ¡°Which is why I want you waiting there for her.¡± Matt tapped the portion of the map leading to the Small Heights, picturing it in his mind¡¯s eye. ¡°Judging by how things played out, I expect she¡¯s been talking to the other big alliance that declared war on us today, too. What was their name again?¡±

    ¡°The Noble Races, sire.¡± Gorfeld¡¯s voice was very, very level. The little Imp gave little clue of how he felt about the name, but it was clear that the rest of them didn¡¯t much care for it.

    ¡°Yeah. Hethwellow¡¯s friends.¡± Matt switched maps again, this time showing the mountains along the eastern border. ¡°They¡¯ll have to cut through the High Peaks to get to us, and that seems like it would be a nightmare for anyone who tries. We have plenty of High Imps there, and a good number of chokeholds. Attacking through those mountain passes would be suicide, especially with the winter so close. Only an idiot would consider it viable.¡±

    Nuramesh raised a tentative hand. ¡°So they won¡¯t come right away?¡±

    ¡°Oh no, Hethwellow and pals are absolutely going to rush right in.¡± Matt grinned. ¡°Not only is he a little overconfident, Itrelia¡¯s probably promised him that she will be attacking our rearguard and keeping our reinforcements busy. Once he breaks through the passes, she would be able to keep him supplied through the winter, and then they could both move on Redspire.¡±

    ¡°But not if the Small Heights remain in our hands and on her flanks. She¡¯ll have to drive us out if she wants to advance unhindered.¡± Grufen nodded slowly, his eyes still on the maps. ¡°I see.¡±

    ¡°Good.¡± Matt leaned forward. ¡°You¡¯re going to have to hold her through the fall and winter. In the spring, you can start pushing into her territory, but for now, it¡¯ll be enough to keep her occupied. Tek will send reinforcements in to the High Peaks to keep the Noble Races busy and out of our hair, but we also have to hold the Small Heights.¡±

    ¡°It will be done.¡± Grufen saluted and then rose. He gestured for Nuramesh to follow him, and then strode out with the Gnome scuttling along at his heels. As the door closed behind them, Matt turned his attention to the last of the nobles.

    Tek sat quietly, examining him with a curiously intent expression. The High Imp took a deep breath. ¡°So I imagine you will send me to the High Peaks? You will dispose of me, as you have the others?¡±

    ¡°No.¡± Surprise flashed across the Imp¡¯s expression, but Matt shook his head for emphasis. ¡°I will ask you to send your best troops to take care of the border. From what Gorfeld tells me, you are practically in charge of the mages and the taxes in the capital. I want you to familiarize me with all of them. We need to be able to supply our troops, send help where needed, and prepare for the coming spring. Can you help me with that, Tek?¡±

    The High Imp nodded slowly, his face incredibly serious. ¡°Yes, sire. I absolutely can.¡± He tapped the table with one long finger. ¡°I will send Crupesh to the border forts. My aide Normed will stay by my side here to help us with our work.¡±

    ¡°Thank you.¡± If alarm bells hadn¡¯t already been ringing for him, Matt would have been hearing them now. The High Imp was just a little too excited to remain behind in the capital¡ªa place conveniently vacant of any other competitors for the throne. All the same, he forced himself to smile. ¡°With your help, I am sure that we can bring prosperity to our kingdom.¡±

 B1Ch5: Nelson

    An hour later, as the nobles scattered to the four winds and Tek made excuses to be about his own business, Matt walked down the hallway to the royal chambers. He pushed open the doors and half-fell, half-staggered into a chair. Gorfeld came through the door right after him, bearing a careful selection of the maps that they had gathered in the council room.

    The Imp shut the door carefully. Even when it was fully closed, he kept his voice low. ¡°You know, sire, that even though he is old, Tek is not without danger or ambition. It might have been wise to let him lead the defenses to the east.¡±

    ¡°No, I need him here. Otherwise, I worry that Itrelia would learn of our plans a little too quickly.¡±

    Gorfeld blinked in confusion, and Matt chuckled a little. He sounded tired and worn, even to his own ears. ¡°I¡¯m about forty percent sure that Tek was conspiring with the Frost Elves. At the very least, he¡¯ll be ready to pull back from the High Peaks the moment it looks like he might lose some of his forces to the Noble Races. If Grufen can¡¯t keep Itrelia busy enough, he might pull them all the way back to Redspire.¡±

    ¡°And then he¡¯ll use them to overthrow you.¡± Gorfeld nodded slowly. ¡°At least with him in the capital, you¡¯ll be able to keep an eye on his messengers. Is that why you requested that all of the riders in the city be monitored?¡±

    ¡°That, and I can¡¯t be sure that Teblas or Itrelia don¡¯t have their own spies here. It will help either way, if we can keep the enemy in the dark.¡± Matt waved a tired hand at him before pinching at the top of his nose. ¡°At the very least, we have everybody on their way. For now, we can try to set things up in a way that will give us the best chance to reach spring. Did you already send for the parchment?¡±

    Gorfeld nodded. ¡°Yes, sire. They are bringing many sheets of it as we speak. Plenty of ink, as well.¡±

    Matt grinned. ¡°Excellent. Make sure that any cartographers and scribes get invited, too. I want to sign things, not write everything out myself.¡± He paused. ¡°Now that I think about it, I don¡¯t know how to write in your language, do I? Or does the magic work for that, too?¡±

    The Imp hesitated. ¡°I believe it should, sire, though you will need to consciously choose which language you write in.¡±

    ¡°Hmm.¡± So English would be a secret code for a while, at least. ¡°Okay. I¡¯ll have you double check everything, just to make sure I am using the right words.¡±

    Gorfeld nodded. He placed the papers on the nearest desk and then poked through them. ¡°You are certain you want your own map, sire?¡±

    ¡°I do. A big one of our entire territory. No more picking through everyone¡¯s leftovers.¡± Matt placed a hand over his eyes. ¡°We can update it as we go, but I need to be able to see everything at once. Especially once the wars start up.¡±

    ¡°Yes, sire.¡± The Imp¡¯s voice became somewhat less certain. ¡°You were saying you wanted to send out more declarations?¡±

    ¡°Yep. At least three or four more.¡± He opened his eyes and looked over at Gorfeld. ¡°First, a copy of the muster in the Sortenmoors. If we can get more of our people to gather there and defend it, the Alliance of Light will have that much harder of a time taking it from us, let alone the rebels.¡±

    Gorfeld nodded, and Matt continued. ¡°Of course, that¡¯s going to cause some trouble with the nobles. They¡¯re going to see a lot of serfs start to think about leaving their farms and workshops to go have a chance at land and freedom. Some of them might be stupid enough to try to force the serfs to stay on their farms.¡±

    The Imp blinked. ¡°You think they would fail, sire?¡±

    ¡°I think there are a lot more serfs than there are nobles, and the last thing we need is a bunch of serfs deciding to rebel. At the same time, I¡¯m not going to leave them in slavery, either. If you want me as King, I¡¯m going to do my best to free the people under my rule, one way or another.¡±

    It seemed like the Imp was at a loss for how to respond. In the end, he shook his head. ¡°I don¡¯t understand your goals, sire, but it does seem dangerous. I don¡¯t know if you would survive a rebellion led by the nobles any more than one led by serfs. In fact, that might be all the more dangerous, to be truthful.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re right.¡± Matt sat forward. He shook his head again, trying to clear it as he thought over the problem. Like rich people throughout history, the nobles would not embrace any change that didn¡¯t seem to help them get ahead of everyone else. Even if the entire nation prospered, they¡¯d see it as an offense to their position. There were too many in his world that would have burned down the forest to be king of the ashes; it didn¡¯t seem like anyone was all that different here.

    So if he wanted to free the serfs, it was going to have to make those same selfish pigs a little fatter. He grunted and then shrugged. ¡°Okay, so the second declaration will need to go out at the same time as the first. Every rider will carry both.¡±

    Gorfeld hesitated. ¡°The¡­second declaration, sire?¡±

    ¡°Yeah.¡± Matt struggled to find the right phrasing. ¡°From here forward, any noble has the power to grant the serfs under his domain freedom and the status of freeholders. At the same time, the granaries of the capital will pay fifty percent more for any produce or other trade goods that were originally produced by freeholders, even if it was gathered and shipped by a nobleman.¡±

    ¡°Sire!¡± Gorfeld stepped forward, his eyes wide. ¡°Our treasury will be spent before the year is out!¡±

    Matt held up a hand, still grinning. ¡°I doubt it. Not every noble is going to free their serfs, and not all at once. Those who do might get a little ahead, but not everyone is going to jump on it. At least, not until they see their peers start to pull ahead of them.¡± He shrugged. ¡°When they do finally get onboard, we¡¯ll be in a much better spot to handle the strain.¡±

    Gorfeld swayed a little, but he stayed upright. He scribbled something down on a fragment of the parchment he¡¯d brought and then sighed. ¡°Were there any other declarations you wished to make, sire?¡±

    ¡°Yeah.¡± Matt tapped on the table idly, still not finished. ¡°When the Red Sorceress was in charge, I get the impression that it was mostly just her giving orders. Did the nobles ever have say in things before she ruled?¡±

    The steward looked a bit nonplussed. ¡°Once, there was something called the Grand Council. A gathering of the High Clans that shared power with the King or Queen of the time.¡± Gorfeld shrugged. ¡°The Grim Queen felt it was unneeded, and the Council was disbanded during her rule. Those who protested were¡­corrected.¡±

    ¡°I see.¡± Matt nodded slowly. ¡°All right, declaration number three. It goes with the other two. Actually, probably at the top of the page for anywhere that isn¡¯t the Sortenmoors.¡± He paused, thinking through the words he needed. ¡°I want the Grand Council to reconvene. Every noble house¡ªwhether from the High Clans or the Low Folk¡ªare to send a representative to Redspire. The Council will be given the power to determine tributes and taxes, to negotiate peace, and create new laws for the Kingdom.¡±

    Gorfeld¡¯s jaw dropped. ¡°But sire, that amount of authority will be dangerous to release. What if they turn against you?¡±

    ¡°They seem ready to do that anyway. I might as well give them the illusion that they are already getting what they want.¡± He shrugged. ¡°Besides, they are going to be a bit worried about all the invasions and other rebels. Before long, they¡¯ll probably be worried about the other people in the Council more than me.¡±

    ¡°And if they turn against us, sire?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ll retain the authority to do whatever needs to be done to protect the kingdom.¡± Matt smiled. ¡°They can¡¯t argue very much against that. After all, it¡¯s why I¡¯m here, isn¡¯t it?¡±

    The Imp nodded in return. ¡°True enough, my liege.¡± Gorfeld paused again, as if reluctant to ask his next question. ¡°Is there¡­anything else, sire?¡±

    It was hard not to laugh out loud. He grinned even wider. ¡°Why yes. There is one more thing.¡±

    ¡°You want to what?¡±

    Tek¡¯s expression was absolutely marvelous to behold. He stared at Matt with the kind of surprise that had to have been bone deep. Gorfeld looked far less impressed, though the steward had been given the benefit of a few extra hours to get used to the idea. The Low Imp had not been nearly as excited about the pronouncement the first time Matt had explained it.

    ¡°I want to proclaim a public works project, funded by the royal treasury. It will involve as many freeholder workers as I can find, drawn from all over the kingdom.¡± Matt paused. ¡°We¡¯ll need to start clearing the space immediately, of course, and over the winter we can try to train them so that things can be done by the end of the next year.¡±

    The High Imp had recovered a little by that point. His little beard seemed to quiver with indignation. ¡°How will you even find that many ¡®freeholders¡¯ to participate? Supposedly, only the nobles have the power to free them, and I don¡¯t see them allowing such treasured workers to leave just to work for you.¡±

    ¡°Once they are freeholders, they are free to move where they will, and sign contracts with whoever they want.¡± Matt let the reality of those words sink in for a few more moments, and then he smiled. ¡°Luckily, we won¡¯t have to depend on the nobility to provide these workers. I understand that out of all the people in the kingdom, I own the most serfs.¡±

    There was a stunned sort of realization in Tek¡¯s eyes. ¡°Wait. You can¡¯t¡­I mean, it isn¡¯t¡­¡±

    ¡°By law, they are my property. Or rather, they were.¡± Matt folded his hands behind his back. ¡°As of this morning, every serf under my direct control has now been given the status of a freeholder. Any who wish to join the public works project can sign a contract with me for a fixed salary, effective immediately. Those who wish to stay on the farms where they live, or in the workshops I own, will paid a good wage for their work.¡±

    Tek was still gaping at him, seemingly too shocked to speak, so Matt simply continued on. ¡°Of course, they will need to pay rent on the lands they owe, and will need assistance in bringing their goods to market. I will be happy to provide them with those services, for a price.¡±

    Gorfeld cleared his throat. ¡°And of course, those goods will be bought at the same high rate as those provided by other freeholder-produced goods.¡±

    Tek¡¯s mouth closed, and his eyes seemed to drift out of focus a little. ¡°A rate that has been artificially inflated by your own decree. And the rent and other costs you place on the freeholder can more than defray the wages you give them¡­¡± His words trailed off, and he turned his sharpened gaze back on Matt. ¡°You are quite clever, sire.¡±

    The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.

    ¡°I¡¯m glad you recognize that.¡± Matt inclined his head a little and breathed a little internal sigh of relief. He was glad that the High Imp hadn¡¯t figured out his real motivation, which was to not be the chief slaveowning bastard of the kingdom. It would also make it harder for someone to replace him; after all, it was easy to tell a bunch of serfs that they had a new master. Who knew what they would do now they were free?

    The answer, of course, was that they would probably just carry on as they had already done, just like they would have at home. He had no intention of letting Tek or anyone else figure that out, though. Not until he had changed things enough to keep any would-be traitors and tyrants from taking his place.

    Luckily, he had a ready-made distraction to keep the High Imp busy, at least for the short term. ¡°So, my project will have three different parts. Two of them will require substantial amounts of building material.¡±

    Tek frowned slightly. ¡°You mean stone, sire? We have a steady supply, but it is often hard to secure large quantities.¡±

    Matt grimaced. ¡°That¡¯s what I was afraid of. If stone wouldn¡¯t work, could we use brick?¡±

    The Imps exchanged a look. Gorfeld spoke first. ¡°The Red Plains are known for making large quantities of brick, but they rarely send it far from their own territory. Perhaps we can enlist their help?¡±

    ¡°A good idea. Maybe we could even send them a few mages to help fire the things, so that we have enough of it?¡± He looked at Tek.

    The High Imp looked a little offended and amused at the same time. He seemed to mull the problem over for a while before he answered. ¡°I can think of several rather¡­underachieving mages that might be employed in such a manner. I can give them the assignment right away.¡±

    ¡°Excellent. Send them to me immediately.¡± He nodded. ¡°I¡¯ll also need to meet with the leaders of the blacksmiths in the city. They¡¯ll need to provide the freeholders with weapons, of course, since they will now have the right to arm themselves.¡±

    There was another silence, and then Gorfeld cleared his throat. ¡°The better to serve in your armies, sire?¡±

    ¡°Exactly.¡± They wouldn¡¯t really measure up to career soldiers¡ªat least, not yet¡ªbut they would be loyal and ready to defend the city. That extra reserve of troops was all he really wanted at the moment, anyway. ¡°While I¡¯m at it, who has the best excavation crews?¡± When both Imps gave him a blank look, he tried to reword things. ¡°I will need groups that excel at digging and tunnelling. Are the Gnomes my best bet for that?¡±

    ¡°Yes, sire.¡± Tek¡¯s lips warped into something approaching a smile. ¡°They are always quite good at creating their little hiding holes.¡±

    Ignoring the contempt in Tek¡¯s voice, Matt turned to Gorfeld. ¡°Send another message after Nuramesh, and have him send me four hundred workers. I¡¯ll leave plans for them to carry out in my absence.¡±

    ¡°Your¡­absence, sire?¡± The steward looked as alarmed as Matt had ever seen him. Even the declarations this morning hadn¡¯t caught him quite so badly off guard. ¡°Do you plan on going on a journey?¡±

    ¡°I do, of a sort.¡± He tapped a bit of parchment, where he had been gathering details. ¡°According to this, I have at least ten banners of troops in the city that answer to me directly. Is that correct?¡±

    Gorfeld nodded, his eyes darting to Tek. The High Imp was silent, still watching Matt through hooded eyes, and the calculations in his expression were rather obvious. Troops that had belonged to Suluth and Braden had both mostly left the city, marching or riding south towards the Grim Hollows and the Sortenmoors. Tek¡¯s High Imps still had three banners of High Guard in the city, however, which meant he would have the chance to seize control of Redspire if Matt showed any signs of weakness.

    Not that Matt had any intentions of doing so. Machiavelli had been fairly clear on what a new ruler should do, and the fools that were going to attack him were going to give him exactly the chance to do so. If he lived through it, of course.

    ¡°I¡¯m going to lead five banners of my troops east, through the High Peaks.¡± If he hadn¡¯t been watching, Matt might have missed the way Tek¡¯s eyes flickered a little. Was that a bit of alarm and concern? ¡°I¡¯m going to reinforce the garrison at Greymouth. I think that is where the Noble Races are probably going to attack first.¡±

    Gorfeld spoke cautiously. Matt doubted it was out of respect so much as it was out of worry that Tek would catch on to what he was implying. ¡°Is it wise for you to attend to that problem personally, sire? I would think there are several other lords that could¡ª¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m going, Gorfeld.¡± He tried to put as much arrogance and stubbornness in his voice as he could. Maybe Tek would believe that as clever as he was, the new king was a little reckless as well. Easy enough with all the other changes Matt was making. ¡°Some things need to be handled personally, and these Nobles Races are going to be the first.¡±

    Tek smiled broadly, his beard quivering a little. ¡°A bold and ambitious idea, my liege. I¡¯m certain your presence at the front will bolster our forces and set the enemy to flight.¡±

    Matt saw Gorfeld gathering himself for another response and gave him a slight shake of the head. The steward subsided, but still watched him carefully. ¡°Good. Now, I need to familiarize myself with some of the people of the city, as well as the tools you have available. Tell me, do you have any horses here?¡±

    The Imps exchanged another look, this time with a bit more confusion. When they looked back at Matt, he could see the plain denial in their eyes. He sighed. ¡°Okay, let¡¯s see what you have to ride.¡±

    A handful of minutes later, Gorfeld was leading him through the castle towards the stables. The Low Imp¡¯s stride was hurried, to keep up with Matt¡¯s longer gait, but it didn¡¯t seem to inconvenience the smaller man much. ¡°Are you sure this is a good idea? You have to know he isn¡¯t as loyal as you think.¡±

    ¡°Loyal or not, he¡¯s going to make trouble. Better to get him to make the first move soon, rather than sticking around and waiting for it.¡± Matt kept his voice low, despite the lack of others in the hallway. He didn¡¯t believe that there weren¡¯t at least a handful of spies hiding somewhere, keeping an eye on the new ruler. ¡°This way, I¡¯ll be surrounded by my own troops, and the city will be full of newly armed freeholders who won¡¯t want to go back to being serfs. He¡¯ll have a hard time killing me, and an even harder time trying to take Redspire while I¡¯m gone, whether he knows that or not.¡±

    ¡°True, but you¡¯ll be traveling through the High Peaks. That¡¯s Tek¡¯s territory, and I don¡¯t put it past him to arrange a suitable ¡®accident¡¯ for you while you travel.¡± Gorfeld paused, waiting until they had turned the next corner and found the next hallway empty as well. ¡°And that¡¯s if he doesn¡¯t send orders for his captains to assassinate you as soon as you arrive at the garrison.¡±

    Matt smirked a little. ¡°True. He might even have a cover story ready in case I survive that, too. Something about a High Imp taking bribes from Itrelia or Hethwellow¡¯s friends. I wouldn¡¯t put it past him, after all.¡± He shrugged. ¡°Still, I have to go. If I don¡¯t trust him to watch my back here, I definitely can¡¯t trust him to hold against the invasion there. Just redouble our watch on any messengers leaving the city and let me know if he tries to slip someone past the gates.¡±

    The Low Imp seemed to have no reply to that, though he was obviously struggling to hold his responses close. Gorfeld hadn¡¯t quite managed to find his words before they had arrived at the royal stables.

    It was a very different place than he would have expected back on Earth. Horses were unknown here, so the typical wooden stalls weren¡¯t in place. Apparently, the main cavalry used by the kingdom was called a Warg, which was essentially a massive wolf. The Goblins were especially well known for using them regularly. Almost all of Suluth¡¯s troops were mounted on the things, and all of Matt¡¯s own cavalry used them as well. Accordingly, the stables looked more like a kennel than anything else.

    To Matt¡¯s relief, the Wargs weren¡¯t the only options for cavalry. As cool as it would have been to ride a canine into battle, he was too much of a rancher¡¯s son to be entirely comfortable with the idea of riding a huge wolf. Besides, Gorfeld had been certain about the beasts only being large enough for Goblins and Imps to ride. He hadn¡¯t mentioned Gnomes at all; apparently, Nuramesh¡¯s people only really trusted their own two feet.

    As they walked past den after den where the giant, panting beasts were lazing about, Matt couldn¡¯t help but note how their eyes followed him. Each was big enough that their jaws could probably fit around his head. He tried not to remember the Dire Hounds leaping at him from out of the dark.

    Fortunately, his subjects had captured a few other beasts to train as mounts, and Gorfeld led him to the section of the stables that contained them. It was located towards the back, a short distance away from the Warg kennels. While the rest of the stables seemed to be filled with the doglike sounds of Wargs growling, panting, and sniffing, this part seemed much, much quieter. There were fewer Goblins too, and the one attendant that appeared to be waiting for them was actually an Orc.

    Matt inclined his head politely as the Orc bowed low. His markings looked very different from the Orcs he¡¯d seen so far. ¡°May I ask your name?¡±

    ¡°My name is Withar, of the Greenriver Orcs, sire.¡± The Orc¡¯s voice was a little unsteady. ¡°I have been a servant here for many years.¡±

    Matt glanced at Gorfeld, who did not seem to notice the look. ¡°You were a serf under the Red Sorceress?¡±

    ¡°Yes, sire.¡±

    It was hard not to smile¡ªthat explained the subservience at least. ¡°Then as of this morning, you are a free man, Withar Greenriver. Have the palace secretaries already organized your salary?¡±

    Withar looked up in surprise for a moment, and then looked back down. ¡°Salary, sire?¡±

    ¡°Yeah. If you¡¯re planning on still working for me, I intend to pay you for your work.¡± Matt smiled a bit crookedly. ¡°You¡¯ll have to buy your own meals and pay for your own place to sleep, but all the same, you¡¯ll have the right to choose.¡± He paused. ¡°You aren¡¯t armed?¡±

    The groom blanched. ¡°N-no, sire. I would not¡ª¡±

    ¡°Then allow me to present you with a gift.¡± Matt drew the short blade from a sheath at his side. He¡¯d asked for a few from the palace smithies, making sure they knew he wanted plain, unadorned work. It was a fine, long knife, one that would serve its owner well. ¡°Here. I want you to keep it on you at all times, so you may be ready to serve your kingdom.¡±

    He held out the blade, hilt first, and Withar stared at it in complete astonishment. The business of the rest of the stables had suddenly gone still, as the rest of the groomsmen paused to watch. Even some of the Wargs appeared interested, peeking out from their dens.

    The groom put out a hand, slowly. His fingers closed around the hilt as if he were grasping a live coal. ¡°Th-thank you, sire.¡±

    Matt released the blade and unbuckled the sheath. He held it out, and Withar accepted it with numb obedience. ¡°If you need help learning how to use it, tell the captains in the barracks that I asked them to give you lessons. It is every freeholder¡¯s right to have such things. Do you understand?¡±

    Withar finally met Matt¡¯s eyes. The Orc seemed completely unable to process what was happening. ¡°Yes, sire. I understand.¡±

    Ignoring the white lie, Matt stepped back and turned to the stall door. He inspected it a little. ¡°Excellent. Now then, Gorfeld said you might have something I could ride here?¡±

    The groom paused, caught between trying to buckle on the unfamiliar sheath and the need to open the stall door. ¡°Y-yes, sire. We do.¡± He managed to get the blade arranged on his hip and then darted forward. ¡°We caught this beast quite some time ago, but we had not found someone who was willing to saddle it.¡±

    Withar pulled open the stall door, and Matt stepped back despite himself. He¡¯d heard Gorfeld describe the creature as a kind of odd deer, but the Imp hadn¡¯t done the thing justice at all. It was enormous, easily as big as a large horse, with antlers that reminded him more of a moose than a simple stag. It was standing with its back to the stall wall, as far from the door as it could be, and regarded him with eyes that were deep and bright and far too clever.

    ¡°They call it a warbuck, sire. Some of the Elven tribes and Knights breed them for war, though the Frost Elves do not use them often.¡± Withar stepped forward cautiously, as if nervous to be near the beast. ¡°They are strong and brave, but they are hard to please. Still, I am sure that with some time, we should be able to¡ª¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s okay.¡± Matt stepped forward into the stall. He¡¯d seen bigger horses¡ªthough not by much¡ªand he¡¯d had to ride a few lunatic ones on his father¡¯s ranch. He kept his voice level and his stride steady. ¡°I think we¡¯ll get along with each other just fine.¡±

    ¡°Sire, I worry that¡ª¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s fine, Withar.¡± He stepped forward again, trying to keep an eye out for any sense of tension in the warbuck. It didn¡¯t seem to be getting ready for a charge, but he already knew how panicky a horse could get. One of those was dangerous enough once it gave into the fight, flight and die response hard-wired into every horse on Earth; he didn¡¯t want to find out what the addition of those heavy antlers and sturdy looking hooves would do.

    Still trying to seem confident, Matt reached out a hand. He kept the apple he¡¯d palmed at breakfast carefully concealed in his palm, hoping not to give the secret away. ¡°Here, now. We¡¯re going to be best friends, you and I.¡±

    The beast considered him for a moment. Then it slowly bowed its head, carefully nuzzling Matt¡¯s hand open and eating the fruit. Matt kept very still as it chewed a bit, letting it get used to his scent.

    Then he moved a little forward, stroking the side of the animal¡¯s neck. ¡°There now, there now. We¡¯re friends, aren¡¯t we? No need to be so nervous.¡±

    To his infinite relief, the warbuck didn¡¯t respond immediately. It kept chewing the last of the fruit, shaking its head a little in a way that nearly knocked Matt¡¯s brains out with a heavy antler. Then it simply heaved a large sigh and turned away slightly, still watching him with one bright eye.

    Matt let out a sigh himself. It had gone about as well as an introduction could. ¡°Withar, could you bring the saddle for me? I think we¡¯d like to go for a ride. Me and¡­what should I call you?¡± He thought about it for a moment and then smiled. ¡°Me and my friend Nelson, here. There we are.¡±

    The groom backed away from the stall, stammering an acknowledgement. Matt mostly ignored him and waiting, continuing to soothe the warbuck with one hand. He looked back at Gorfeld, careful to keep the movement slow and measured. ¡°So, how am I doing so far?¡±

    His steward raised an eyebrow. ¡°Well, we aren¡¯t dead yet. Sire.¡±

    Matt suppressed an inappropriate laugh and waited for Withar to return. As a measure of victory, he hoped he was going to aim a little higher than that¡ªbut he had to admit it was a good start.

 B1Ch6: Making Friends

    The rest of the day passed in something of a blur. He rode Nelson while he traveled through the streets of Redspire, with only a handful of breaks. The warbuck seemed eager to run, but he responded well enough to the bit and bridle. All the same, there were several times when Matt could sense the beast¡¯s temper flaring as the carts and crowds jostled along nearby.

    ¡°I apologize for the press, sire.¡± The bureaucrat, a Grimfen Goblin named Seb, wrung his hands a little. He was walking rather than riding, his plain clothes and high boots apparently more suited to the packed dirt of the road. ¡°The city has grown crowded these days, and I worry that we have not had the chance to organize them all.¡±

    ¡°I understand. It¡¯s a problem a lot of places face.¡± Matt nodded, careful to keep Nelson at a comfortable walking pace. The Goblin didn¡¯t seem to have any trouble keeping up, but he didn¡¯t want to make the man run the whole time, either. ¡°Are the food supplies stable? Or will we need to worry about rationing during the winter?¡±

    ¡°Oh no, sire, no worries there.¡± Seb shook his head so violently that Nelson gave a sudden snort and toss of his antlers. Matt leaned forward a little to soothe the warbuck, but the Goblin continued as if he hadn¡¯t noticed. ¡°Our granaries are almost full, in fact, and we should have plenty of stores available for the soldiers and citizens. We should weather the season just fine.¡±

    Matt paused for a moment. ¡°So we won¡¯t have any problems with starvation in the city? That gives me some relief, then.¡±

    Seb was quiet for a moment, and when he spoke next, his voice was low. There was still a trace of respect in his voice, but the flatterer¡¯s manner had left him. ¡°I am glad to hear you say that, sire. Redspire has not always had so¡­charitable a ruler as you.¡±

    It was not the first time that Matt had heard a similar statement. At least five of the Low Folk representatives had said something along the same lines. He was starting to wonder how low the bar had been. Were they somehow in awe that he hadn¡¯t started things off with a citywide butchering program?

    Still, it was a good sign that at least the Low Folk of the city were on his side. Or at least, as much on his side as they were on the side of the nobles. That support would be important soon. ¡°I don¡¯t see it as charity, Seb. I am only doing my duty to the people I have sworn to protect. That¡¯s all you need to expect from me.¡±

    ¡°Yes, sire. I see.¡±

    Seb seemed uncertain still, but Matt didn¡¯t give him enough time to stew in it. He pressed on in a casual voice. ¡°How are people dealing with the decrees of liberation? I get the impression that things are still sinking in for them.¡±

    Seb nodded absently. ¡°Yes, that would be a good way to phrase it.¡± The Goblin looked around, as if he didn¡¯t quite understand the new order of things himself. ¡°The newly promoted¡­freeholders, as you call them, are still adjusting to their new status. Many of them, if you pardon me saying so, are wondering what the actual difference will end up being in their lives, especially if they are doing the same work.¡±

    ¡°A fair question.¡± Matt kept his smile easy, though he had a moment of frustration inside. All of the Low Folk he¡¯d spoken to had asked the same question. It was part of the problem with living in a pre-literacy society, he supposed. Things were going to have to spread by word of mouth, in most cases literally. ¡°Well, for one thing, they¡¯ll receive wages for their work. A fair wage, that will let them buy what they need.¡±

    ¡°Yet for the most part they will be buying the food they raised for you and paying rent on the homes they already live in.¡± Seb¡¯s eyes suddenly widened, as if he had recognized the danger of his own tone. ¡°M-my apologies, sire, I did not mean¡ª¡±

    Matt held up a hand. ¡°I will never blame you for voicing the doubts of others, goodman Seb. So long as you do so in honesty, and not in argument.¡± The Goblin nodded, and Matt continued. ¡°They may be in the same place, but they can also choose to do something else with their lives. Perhaps they stay on their farms and in the workhouses, or perhaps they strike out on their own to find a new lot in life. As a freeholder, they will have the right to choose.¡±

    Seb gave him a crooked smile. He seemed to struggle to regain his insincere respectfulness. ¡°Yes. I see now.¡±

    ¡°Of course, their choices might upset some who would rather they stay bound where they are.¡± Matt kept his voice casual, but it was hard to miss how Seb tensed up. ¡°That is why they also enjoy the right to bear arms. They will have the responsibility to stand for the defense of the realm, and I will have the duty to see they are justly treated as a result.¡±

    ¡°So they become soldiers. Or militia, rather.¡± Seb nodded slowly. His fingers strayed to a small belt knife, something that had skirted the laws forbidding serfs from owning anything that resembled a weapon. ¡°And you commit to standing for these rights?¡±

    ¡°Yes. Absolutely.¡± Matt tried to make his voice as firm as he could. ¡°I will see them taken care of, and I hope that will mean they will keep faith with me and the rest of the kingdom. Does that set your heart at ease?¡±

    Seb was silent for a few more moments as they walked. When he nodded, it seemed as if he had made a decision. ¡°Yes, sire. It does.¡±

    ¡°Good.¡± Matt glanced upward, checking the position of the sun. He missed his phone, but it wasn¡¯t like the battery would have lasted long here, anyway. ¡°Now, I want to see you at the castle tomorrow. I need your help organizing some of the work we¡¯ll need to do over the coming months, and I¡¯m afraid I don¡¯t have much time before I leave.¡±

    ¡°I will, sire.¡± Seb obviously recognized the dismissal, and he bowed deeply. ¡°Thank you for your time.¡±

    The Goblin broke away, scurrying through a side street. Matt glanced over to see him make the first turn beyond sight and then sighed to himself.

    Gorfeld appeared as if out of nowhere at his knee. ¡°I believe you have no one else to meet with until we reach the Guard barracks, sire.¡±

    ¡°Good. I could use the break.¡± Matt stretched slightly, looking around at the people milling in the streets. They flowed around him, as if magically leaving the space for Nelson to travel through the mass of people. Many of them were peeking at him out of the corners of their eyes. Clearly, they were curious about him, and he couldn¡¯t blame them. It wasn¡¯t every day a new ruler appeared and especially wasn¡¯t normal for the new monarch to free more than half the city from serfdom. Many seemed worried he was going to lash out at them. He hoped it was an impression left by the previous rulers, not a sign that they feared he was capricious or insane. Crazy people didn¡¯t tend to last long on a throne, at least not without some interested advisors.

    The steward appeared to be worried about the same thing, given the way he glanced up at Matt. He chose his words carefully, as always. ¡°I wonder if it would be wise to delay your departure, sire. For a week or two, until the city is settled.¡±

    Matt shook his head. ¡°No. That¡¯s the last thing I can do, especially with war starting on our borders.¡±

    ¡°Your absence would give some the opportunity to reach for more power. They might gain a high position for themselves before you return, and you would face having to take the city from them in response.¡±

    ¡°True, but they wouldn¡¯t have the support of the people. Not like I do.¡± He kept his voice low, knowing the crowd was filled with eavesdroppers. Tek would have sent someone to watch him. The High Imp would have been insane not to. ¡°Besides, we all know that the only way to rule the whole kingdom is to kill me. If someone in the city wanted to do that, it will be hard for them to accomplish while I am riding east.¡±

    At least, it would make things more difficult in some ways. Matt had been studying the maps, and he¡¯d already come up with at least one possibility that his enemies could use. Fortunately, he was already planning on turning that possibility to his advantage.

    Gorfeld was hesitating, trying to look in every direction without actually turning his head much. ¡°Yet it would still be wise to stay long enough to organize the various projects you are planning. The last thing we need is to run short on funds by wasting our efforts.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ll be back before the work can really begin. The first part has to be gathering the workers and materials, which will take a couple of weeks easily.¡± Matt made a dismissive gesture. ¡°The Low Folk can handle that business already, and I¡¯ll leave them detailed instructions on how to begin if I am delayed.¡±

    The steward sighed again, this time in apparent defeat. His shoulders slumped. ¡°All the same, sire, you are heading into a battlefield. Any number of catastrophes could happen, and then the kingdom will fall into the hands of outsiders.¡±

    ¡°So what? Technically, it already has.¡±

    Gorfeld gave him a glare, or at least as close to one as a steward could give a mounted king. ¡°You are not the same. You are from a different world. Those who are outside our borders, but from this world, may be less willing to work for our benefit.¡±

    Matt frowned. ¡°What do you mean? You think they would just wipe you out?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m sure some of them would love to, yes.¡± Gorfeld shook his head. ¡°There is a long history of war between our peoples and those outside our borders. The past few rulers have only worsened that reputation, even though several of them came from the outside.¡±

    ¡°Really?¡± Matt thought back over the night it had all started. ¡°I guess the Red Sorceress didn¡¯t look like she was a Goblin, Imp, or Orc. What was she, a Frost Elf?¡±

    ¡°She was a Wizard, actually, from the Circle of Gold. One of the members of the Noble Races, actually.¡± Gorfeld scowled. ¡°She was cast out for her¡­overenthusiastic¡­studies of transformation magic, and brought her abilities here. The previous ruler, the Obsidian King, welcomed her into his court, where she curried influence. In time, she killed him and took the throne for herself.¡±

    ¡°And promptly started wars with the people who threw her out.¡± Matt nodded slowly. ¡°So the surrounding nations view us as a problem to be solved.¡±

    The Imp nodded. ¡°Yes. As permanently as possible.¡± He gestured around at the crowds, which had started to thin the closer they got to the barracks. ¡°Some of them, such as the Western Coalition, believe that simply breaking the kingdom and disarming our people would be sufficient. Others, like the Noble Races, wish to subjugate us, placing all of our people in servitude under their nobility.¡±

    Matt grunted. A nation without a military would be toothless and vulnerable to anyone who wanted to carve it apart. It might even become an even larger dumping ground for malcontents and bandits than before, with no central authority to guide or restrain them. ¡°And the Alliance of Light?¡±

    Gorfeld paused. ¡°They believe the kingdom is a corrupting influence, one that will never be solved. They would rather be rid of us forever. Exile, extermination, it doesn¡¯t matter how. We would be reduced to wanderers or gravestones, in the end.¡±

    The words brought a chill to Matt¡¯s blood, and he resisted the urge to shiver. It was the kind of brutal theory that people had put into practice throughout history, and he could only imagine how much worse it would be in a place where the differences between people were so much easier to define. He looked around and nodded. ¡°All the more important that we keep that from happening, then. Wouldn¡¯t you say?¡±

    His steward glanced up at him and then looked ahead. The crude stone walls of the barracks came into view, wedged up against the city walls. ¡°Of course, sire.¡± He then muttered something under his breath that Matt couldn¡¯t quite hear. It was easy to imagine it was some kind of hope that Matt knew what he was doing.

    The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement.

    Time would tell.

    The barracks was a crowded, foul-smelling place, but Matt could tell it had started out with a sort of severe logic behind it. It was the home of the Crown Guard, the official army under his direct command. They were made up of Low Folk, not nobles, but their service guaranteed them a certain amount of respect that their fellow freeholders did not always enjoy. These particular soldiers were trusted with protecting Redspire itself from attack, as well as keeping usurpers from taking the throne. Placing those soldiers close to the walls meant they wouldn¡¯t need to travel far to start their patrols, or to leave the city on a mission close by.

    At the same time, whoever had designed the place had apparently ignored the fact that they were right near a large public latrine. The smell was putrid, and Matt gagged a little as an errant gust of wind intensified the stench slightly too much. ¡°Gorfeld?¡±

    ¡°Yes, sire?¡±

    ¡°Tell me that the well they draw water from is upwind of¡­that.¡±

    ¡°It is, sire.¡± Then the Imp frowned. ¡°Though not by far, I suppose. There are only so many places to draw water from, unless they take it from the river itself.¡± Gorfeld made a face, showing his opinion of that option.

    Matt quickly rearranged the order for his building projects in his mind. Clearly, some things would need to be attended to first, if he was going to avoid having almost constant bouts of plague among his most loyal troops. He was still rearranging things as he rode slowly into the courtyard.

    It was a wide, open space where there had been flagstones laid down and a set of stables built. They differed from the stables at the palace; here, the beasts were all serious and less friendly. Nelson grunted a little as a couple Wargs glanced in his direction and licked their chops. Matt gave them a level stare, and the giant dogs turned away to examine something else.

    Soldiers and servants half-filled the space, walking back and forth on some errand or another. Matt hoped it was something related to the mobilization orders he¡¯d given earlier in the day, but it was hard for him to tell. At the very least, he could see a half dozen supply wagons being filled with food and water barrels. It was a good sign at least somebody was thinking of logistics.

    One of the Goblins¡ªa Copperflame, by his bronze skin¡ªwho had been supervising the loading caught sight of Matt and dismissed the others he had been talking to. The officer came over to him as Matt dismounted and snapped to attention when Matt turned to look at him. ¡°Captain Snolt, sire. At your service, sire.¡±

    He delivered the words in a gruff, reluctant growl, one that Matt could easily imagine the soldier had practiced repeatedly. Matt nodded casually to him, handing Nelson¡¯s reins off to Gorfeld to hold. ¡°At ease, Captain. I¡¯m happy that you could fit me into your schedule today.¡±

    ¡°Of course, sire.¡± A hint of impatience crossed Snolt¡¯s features, but the Goblin still managed to bury his frustration. ¡°If you would follow me, sire?¡±

    Matt nodded again and went trailing after the captain. Gorfeld looked momentarily frustrated at being left behind, but the steward wasn¡¯t going to be privy to all of Matt¡¯s plans. He would just have to get used to that idea. Hopefully, he wouldn¡¯t end up regretting inviting Matt to stay, but that was the Imp¡¯s problem, not his.

    He was still smiling at the thought when he saw a series of Orcs pile out of the barracks. They wore wooden armor, clearly some kind of training set, and carried stiff wooden swords, with a small amount of padding wrapped around them. Snolt made a beeline towards them, talking quietly.

    ¡°The men are eager to leave for the front, of course, but they are a bit worried. Some of them might be under the impression that you haven¡¯t seen much battle, sire.¡±

    ¡°They¡¯re correct.¡± Matt tried not to notice the shocked look the soldier gave him. ¡°All the same, I am the one who killed the Red Sorceress, and I¡¯ll be the one to lead them to victory in the east. Are we going to have enough supplies for the trip?¡±

    The Goblin recovered enough to answer, though he seemed like he was having to fight back a truly impressive amount of swearing. ¡°Yes, sire. You asked for us to have enough for a four-week campaign, correct? Along with the usual supplies for the fort?¡±

    Matt nodded. Those supplies were important in more ways than one, especially since Tek would know where they were going and when. It would be an irresistible target. ¡°Good. And the banners I requested are all ready to go?¡±

    ¡°They are, sire.¡± Snolt hesitated. ¡°Some of them might need a bit more time to prepare themselves, though. We weren¡¯t expecting to leave so quickly.¡±

    ¡°Speed is important, Captain Snolt. So is readiness.¡± Matt gave him a steady look. ¡°Let the other five banners of the Guard know that they should also be ready to march at a moment¡¯s notice. You and the others got the draw this time, but they could just as easily be next, and I don¡¯t want anyone to catch you napping.¡±

    Snolt grimaced despite himself. ¡°Yes, sire.¡± He looked up as one of the Orcs strode over and braced to attention. His dark blue skin marked him as a member of the Coldhearth Low Folk, from what Matt remembered. ¡°This is Sergeant Nikles. He will be helping you with your form today, sire.¡±

    Matt suppressed a smile. ¡®Helping with his form¡¯ was a good euphemism for trying to give him basic military training. He¡¯d gotten in plenty of fistfights when he was younger, and had the odd self-defense course drilled into him, but fighting with medieval weaponry was not something he¡¯d ever expected to do. After all, that kind of a fight was what a good pistol was for¡ªbut he was a long way from one of those, wasn¡¯t he?

    He looked over at the sergeant, who was doing his level best to impersonate a statue with fine military form. The Orc looked like he could lift Matt and maybe use him as a club. Then he glanced back at Snolt and inclined his head slightly. ¡°Thank you, Captain Snolt. I¡¯ll be sure to find you again after.¡±

    The Captain jerked slightly at those last words, then came to attention for a moment. Matt thought he could hear the swearing finally start as the Goblin strode away, but at least Snolt was keeping it under his breath.

    When he looked back at Nikles, the Orc looked a little worried now. Nikles glanced down at him and cleared his throat. ¡°The Captain has had a hard morning of it, sire. Please excuse his manner.¡±

    There was something refreshingly honest about the request, and Matt grinned despite himself. ¡°Don¡¯t worry about it, Sergeant. We¡¯ve all had a bit of a rough week.¡± He glanced at the other Orcs. ¡°What banner are you with?¡±

    Nikles glanced at the others before responding. ¡°The Eighth Spears, sire. We¡¯re going to be with you on the road.¡± One of the other Orcs muttered something under his breath. Matt ignored it as Nikles continued. ¡°My brother is stationed with the Ninth up at Greymouth. It¡¯ll be good to see him again.¡±

    Matt heard a bit of the worry in the Orc¡¯s voice and gave him as confident a smile as he could. ¡°Yes, I¡¯m sure it will. I¡¯ll do my best to take care of both of you, Sergeant Nikles.¡± He paused and grimaced a little. ¡°Unfortunately, you¡¯re going to need to try to beat the crap out of me first. Try not to break anything, though. I don¡¯t have that long to heal before we go.¡±

    There was a silence filled with shock and surprise, and then a low roll of chuckles came from the Orcs behind Nikles. The sergeant himself seemed to struggle to hold one in himself, and responded in a strained voice. ¡°I¡¯ll do my best, sire. If you would follow me? They have armor ready for you in a separate space.¡±

    With a sigh and a nod, Matt followed, the Orcs grouping up around him. They headed for a nearby building. He didn¡¯t exactly want an audience for what was going to come next.

    The practice sword came up and around with a sound of rushing air. Matt saw it coming, knew there would be no way to avoid it, and braced himself.

    It hit him under the arm and knocked the wind straight out of him. He went to one knee almost instantly, sucking air and trying to fight the feeling of dizziness as the pain shot through him. One part of him remembered the feel of his pistol with terrible fondness, but he shoved that aside to focus on staying alive. Air in, air out¡ªthat was all he could hope for at the moment.

    His opponent, fortunately, didn¡¯t follow through. Instead, the Orc simply stepped back, a grin on his scarred features. He looked back at the rest of the Orcs, who were watching from the sidelines. Some of them gave him gestures of congratulations; others made dismissive waves, as if the victory hardly counted.

    Given that Matt hadn¡¯t beaten a single one of his opponents yet, it was hard to blame them. Still, his pride was nearly as battered as his body at this point. He kept sucking in air and looked over to where Nikles was standing.

    The sergeant was staring at him thoughtfully, his arms crossed. His companionable demeanor hadn¡¯t kept him from assigning one after another of his men to pummel his king, but then again, that was kind of what Matt wanted to happen. At least it was happening in a small practice room, isolated from the rest of the barracks. Once upon a time the place had been used for storage; now most of the space was dominated by a makeshift ring formed from discarded crates and piles of lumber from some forgotten construction project. Matt could only imagine the impact on morale if he was seen to be so weak in front of the whole army.

    Nikles motioned for the Orc to step back, and the soldier obeyed instantly. The sergeant walked up to Matt and examined him a bit more closely. ¡°Are you all right, sire?¡±

    Matt sucked in one more breath, ignoring the pain still lancing from his ribs, and nodded. ¡°Yeah. I can go again.¡±

    ¡°Impressive.¡± There were a couple of muttered comments from the sidelines, and Nikles gave the others a sharp look. He turned back to Matt. ¡°You¡¯ve taken more of a beating than I expected you to.¡±

    Despite the pain, Matt laughed. ¡°Not¡­the best compliment, sergeant.¡±

    The Orc raised a hand to scratch at the back of his head. ¡°No, I meant¡­ I apologize, sire. I just meant that anyone who had taken that many hits would probably need to lie down somewhere. You¡¯re tougher than you look.¡±

    Matt shrugged slightly, the ache in his ribs starting to fade. ¡°Either that, or you are all taking it easy on me.¡±

    ¡°Small chance of that, sire.¡± Nikles snorted. ¡°Captain Snolt let us know you wanted to be challenged. None of us are going to dishonor ourselves by not following through on that.¡±

    ¡°Good to know.¡± Matt grounded the point of his practice sword in the dirt and used it as a crutch to get back to his feet. He felt at his side a little, trying to draw in a deep breath. Nothing broken, hopefully, but his entire torso felt like one big bruise at this point. ¡°So what suggestions do you have for me, sergeant?¡±

    The Orc glanced around the ring and nodded to himself. He walked over to a pile of weapons sticking out of a barrel. ¡°Well, I¡¯d say you have more than enough stamina and conditioning to hold up in a fight, but you just don¡¯t have the skill needed for something like a sword. Let¡¯s see if something like this would work better for you.¡±

    Nikles pulled out a battered-looking mace and handed it over. Matt took it a little skeptically, looking over the well-worn metal. It stung a little to be told that a basic weapon like a sword was out of reach, but he supposed it made sense. ¡°Any tricks to using one of these?¡±

    ¡°For now? No. Just swing well enough to hit and let the weight batter them down.¡± Nikles shrugged. ¡°Honestly, the mace is probably better at getting through armor than you might expect. We¡¯ll get one a little less¡­well-worn than that before we go.¡±

    Matt tried an experimental swing with the thing. He paused and then tried it again. It felt remarkably good, and lighter than he would have expected. ¡°I¡¯d have thought it would be heavier.¡±

    ¡°Doesn¡¯t take a lot of weight to bash a head in.¡± The Orc picked up a shield and held it up. ¡°All right, let¡¯s see you knock into this for a while. Then we can see about getting you fitted for some real armor.¡±

    By the time they left the barracks an hour later, Matt¡¯s arms were aching along with the various bumps and bruises he¡¯d suffered, but he already felt a little better about his situation. At least he had no illusions about what being in actual combat would be like, and he thought he had started to get the hang of swinging the mace by the end of it. Maybe he wouldn¡¯t cut the most heroic figure, but at least he would manage to get a few licks in if anyone closed in on him.

    Nelson and Gorfeld were both waiting on him in the courtyard, and the steward seemed to let out a heavy sigh of relief when he saw them leaving. Matt gave a nod of dismissal to Nikles and his fellow soldiers, and then did his best to stride across the courtyard without limping, wincing, or falling over. Gorfeld met him partway and spoke quietly. ¡°Are you injured, sire?¡±

    ¡°Mostly just my pride. And maybe a little of everything else.¡± Matt gave the Imp a tight grin. ¡°Did you manage to confirm that they were preparing like they were supposed to?¡±

    Gorfeld nodded, his voice still low. ¡°They are. The Third and Eighth Orcish Spears, the Fourth and Tenth Impish Footmen, and the First Warg Riders are all drilling and packing up. They should all be ready to leave by the date you selected.¡±

    Captain Snolt was the leader of the First Riders, so that meant Matt could enjoy his bright presence during the journey as well. ¡°Excellent. And the other banners?¡±

    Gorfeld glanced around the courtyard, noting the eyes that were following them. He went on after a lengthy pause. ¡°The Second, Seventh and Thirteenth Spears are all far less ready for combat. Same with the Ninth Footmen and the Fourth Warg Riders. They definitely have chosen the best banners available to ride with you.¡±

    Matt glanced over at the Imp. ¡°And their captains?¡±

    The steward gave him a sharp look. ¡°They seem cautious, but loyal. Many are skeptical about the rights you are giving to the freeholders, but the increase in wages you ordered has satisfied them.¡±

    ¡°Good. Let it slip that one of my first priorities is going to be a new barracks for them. That will hopefully keep them from letting their loyalties wander.¡± Matt hesitated. They¡¯d reached Nelson¡¯s side, and the sudden prospect of swinging himself up into the warbuck¡¯s saddle was discouragingly painful to think about. He sighed and reached for the saddle horn. ¡°Do you think they¡¯d be able to stand up to whatever Tek has in the capital?¡±

    Gorfeld caught the reins as Matt groaned and lurched his way into the saddle. The steward glanced around again. ¡°Maybe. The High Imp only has three banners in the city, but they are all High Guard, which means they have plenty of training and battle magic besides. Under the right circumstances, the Crown Guard might be able to bring them down, but if Tek is given enough time to prepare¡­¡±

    Matt grunted, and not just from the fire that crawled up his torso. Magic seemed to have a way of interfering with things, but he¡¯d just have to plan for it. ¡°Good to know.¡± He turned Nelson to head for the exit, giving the nearest soldiers a wave as he went. They nodded respectfully, with a few tentatively touching their hands to their hearts in deference. Most just seemed to watch him as he went.

    It was a relief to leave them behind and be back in the streets of Redspire. The crowds were still there, but they seemed even more willing to part before him than they had been before. They¡¯d be back at the palace in no time.

    At which point he only had another three days of panicked preparation to go before he launched himself into the middle of a war. No pressure at all.

 B1Ch7: Lying to Friends

    Matt looked up from the sketches he was making when the knock sounded at his door. He frowned slightly and reached for the heavy iron poker that he had laid carefully next to his desk. The simple, improvised weapon was likely going to be his only comfort until Nikles delivered his actual mace, and even then, it was going to be a long time before he let himself be more than an arm¡¯s length away from a weapon.

    He had sent Gorfeld home quite some time ago. The little Imp had been determined to stay glued to Matt¡¯s side, but the journey back from the barracks had started to take its toll, and Matt had finally persuaded him to go home and tend to his own family for the night. There had been plenty of other servants on the castle¡¯s staff willing to fetch and carry for him, and Matt had directed them to bring him several large stretches of parchment, a large bottle of ink, and then to leave him alone until daybreak.

    The fact that they hadn¡¯t listened to him said that either something terrible had happened, or there was some other duty he¡¯d forgotten. Either that, or Tek was moving against him earlier than Matt had expected. No matter what it was, it was not a good sign that they weren¡¯t doing as they were told.

    Matt opened the door carefully, peering outside in a way that likely wasn¡¯t the most regal of behaviors. Luckily, it didn¡¯t seem like there were very many people present to witness it, just a pair of elderly looking servants. He couldn¡¯t quite remember their names, but one was an Ashrock Imp and the other a Copperflame Goblin. Neither looked particularly like an assassin, so he finished prying the door the rest of the way open. ¡°Yes?¡±

    The Goblin spoke up first, her voice a little creaky with age. ¡°We are sorry to disturb you, sire, but it came to our attention that your steward has forgotten a portion of his duties, and we did not wish to delay their execution.¡±

    He couldn¡¯t help but frown. ¡°Gorfeld has been very busy the past few days and has served me quite well. I don¡¯t think there¡¯s anything that he hasn¡¯t already done for me.¡±

    The Imp was the next to speak, his voice surprisingly deep. ¡°Your pardon, sire, but there is one small matter he has neglected, among all his other responsibilities.¡± There was a slight tone to the elderly man¡¯s voice that suggested that it was more negligence than anything else, but the Imp continued on before Matt could respond. ¡°In his absence, we would be more than happy to begin procuring a royal consort for you, sire. You need only specify what characteristics would be acceptable.¡±

    It took a couple of moments before Matt¡¯s brain caught completely up to the words, and when it did, he took a couple more just to process what his response would be. ¡°A¡­royal consort? I don¡¯t believe I asked for anything like that.¡±

    ¡°Nor should you need to, sire.¡± The Imp¡¯s voice had taken on something of a fastidious lilt, as if he was terminally disappointed by Gorfeld¡¯s obvious lack of diligence. ¡°It is traditional for the monarch to secure at least one consort, though occasionally they do take more.¡±

    Matt fell silent for a little while. He knew it would be important to preserve some of the traditions they had here¡ªhe was already undermining some important stuff like the nobility and their stranglehold on power¡ªbut he wasn¡¯t quite willing to go along with something this awful. Serfs were bad enough; a ¡®consort¡¯ that was being coerced to be by his side seemed so much worse.

    Aside from the moral dilemma, of course, he really didn¡¯t want to have to kiss any of them. It was something that defied most fantasy and science fiction stories he¡¯d seen, but the uncanny valley impression was going to put a damper on any romance in this world. He¡¯d have to wait until he got home before he went looking for love, apparently.

    When he looked up, he saw both servants peering at him expectantly. He tried to keep his voice even. ¡°I don¡¯t believe that I have time to make a fair choice at the moment. Between my plans for the capital, the rebellions, and the wars at our borders, such concerns can wait for a more peaceful time.¡±

    ¡°But sire,¡± The Goblin¡¯s voice was almost quavering with repressed disapproval. ¡°The fact that you¡¯ve taken a consort is far more important than the consort themselves! You can always choose another later.¡±

    They couldn¡¯t have done a better job making the whole process sound distasteful. ¡°And how do the former consorts feel about being displaced?¡±

    The Imp cleared his throat. ¡°They are normally not¡­available for comment, sire.¡± Matt fixed him with a stare, and the servant shifted his feet. He seemed suddenly unable to meet Matt¡¯s eyes. ¡°The Red Sorceress had a habit of changing those who failed her in that regard into Grim Hounds. The Obsidian King before her usually simply executed those who failed him.¡±

    ¡°Yeah. No.¡± Matt shook his head. ¡°If I don¡¯t choose a consort, what happens then?¡±

    There was another uncomfortable silence. The Imp was the first to break it, still occupied with studying the nearest window. ¡°The people may grow restless over it, sire. There is a tradition that a monarch without a consort may have the habit of simply¡­acquiring partners from among his serfs or vassals.¡±

    ¡°Or that he might go looking for consorts among our enemies!¡± The Goblin actually started wringing her hands. There was a desperate frustration in her voice as she continued. ¡°Many a ruler can be seduced into foolhardy decisions by a foreign mistress. A proper consort would prevent that from becoming a problem!¡±

    ¡°Oh, really?¡± Matt thought back over the history of monarchy in his own world. It was not exactly replete with examples of fidelity. ¡°There¡¯s never been any monarchs that have been unfaithful to the consorts they selected?¡±

    The hesitation was instructive, particularly in the way that the Goblin went from staring intently at him to looking at the Imp. Her sudden need for backup was completely disappointed. ¡°Well, sire, there were rumors that the Sorceress and Lord Teblas were¡ª¡±

    ¡°Stop.¡± The order came out a little terser than he had expected, but to be fair, the situation was not great. He¡¯d already put a massive amount of pressure on the nobility by introducing a society of free serfs. Ignoring too many more traditions would stir up rebellion too quickly for him to manage; at this point, he needed to provoke only a few of the nobles and none of the common folk to oppose him, so that he could cut them off at the knees as he went along. If the nobles could point to his lack of a consort and say he was a threat to everyone¡¯s young wives and daughters, things could get that much messier, that much quicker.

    He grimaced as he thought the problem over. There had to be a way to delay things¡ªone that was a bit more effective than just denying the tradition outright. It took him a few more moments to think it up. When he hit on the answer, a grin almost spread across his face. It took real effort to smother it into an expression of utter seriousness.

    ¡°Thank you, both of you, for letting me know about this situation. You were correct that Gorfeld should have let me know about it earlier.¡±

    Both servants relaxed; the Goblin actually audibly sighed in relief. The Imp, for his part, looked insufferably pleased. ¡°May I begin sending out the summons for the selection, sire?¡±

    ¡°Not yet.¡± Matt held up one finger. ¡°The selection is an important part of my reign, but I will need some time to gather my thoughts. I will make a proclamation myself in the morning.¡±

    Both servants seemed ready to argue further, but Matt decided that he¡¯d had about enough of the interruption. He let some steel leech into his voice. ¡°Now, I¡¯m sure you have other business to attend to. I have my own work to do, so be about it.¡±

    They paused as a sudden burst of fear worked its way across their face. With a short, panicked bow, both of them fled from the antechamber as if being pursued by Wargs. Matt waited a moment longer and then shut himself back inside. Now he had one more thing to maneuver around, as if he didn¡¯t have enough already. He shook his head and chuckled at the thought. Who knew that being an all-powerful tyrant was so much of an inconvenience?

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    ¡°Your work is really are quite good, sire. Your practice is definitely improving your skill.¡±

    The compliment shouldn¡¯t have made him feel quite so accomplished, but Matt allowed himself to feel a little smug. He¡¯d been working away at a map of Redspire. At least, a map of what Redspire was going to look like when he finished his plans.

    Whoever had founded the city hadn¡¯t chosen a terrible spot. They had built it on the southern bank of the River Crimson, a large waterway that ran across half the kingdom, flowing from northeast to southwest. The palace seemed to form the anchor for the rest of the city, a relatively tall keep made of dark red stone that rose above the rest of the buildings. Serfs and soldiers had slowly built the city around it, creating a confused jumble of workshops, tenements, and small markets that reminded him of an unplanned, European style city. The city walls provided a sort of boundary along the edges of the place, but there were already signs that the sprawl was going to push people to build outside the stern stone barriers.

    He was hoping to introduce some actual city planning to the entire place. Organic development was nice, in theory, but in his experience people had a tendency to think of new additions with a short-term perspective. The haphazard distribution of wells and public latrines was evidence enough of that. It was going to lead to some serious public health issues soon, if it hadn¡¯t already.

    Fortunately, he wasn¡¯t exactly going to be arguing with a city council about how to change things. Maybe there was an occasional good part of being a dictator in all but name.

    Matt glanced over at where Gorfeld was double checking the instructions he was leaving for the workers to complete in his absence. It was important that they get started on the first part of the project before the ground froze over in the winter. He¡¯d heard quite a lot about the skill of Gnome laborers and their ability to work with tunnels, but he was sure it was always going to be easier to dig when they didn¡¯t have to smash through ground frost.

    ¡°Thank you Gorfeld. I appreciate the help.¡± Matt scrubbed at his eyes a little, glancing out at the early sun. He was certain that people were going to be waiting for another proclamation from him now about the consort thing. Half of him wanted to suspect that Tek was behind it, but he guessed that the wily old Imp was going to be a bit more subtle about undermining him. Then again, he wouldn¡¯t be the first to seize power through a courtesan or a convenient marriage.

    The thought brought another question to his mind, and he glanced over at his steward. Gorfeld was still reading through some of the pages that Matt had scribbled out before, going over the figures and plans he¡¯d sketched out for his meeting with the Low Folk. ¡°Hey, I have a question for you. What do the people here believe in?¡±

    Gorfeld looked up. His expression was best described as polite confusion. ¡°What do you mean, sire?¡±

    ¡°I mean, what religions do you have here?¡± When Gorfeld still seemed baffled, Matt pressed on. ¡°You know, traditions, beliefs about how the world was created, maybe some priests who oversee the sacred rituals and holy texts. You know, that kind of thing.¡±

    The Imp stared at him as if Matt had lost his mind. ¡°May I ask why you want to know, sire?¡±

    He sighed. ¡°It¡¯s the consort selection problem.¡±

    ¡°Ah, yes.¡± The steward looked briefly unhappy. ¡°I am sorry that I forgot about that issue. I assumed we could deal with it after your¡­trip.¡±

    Matt chuckled a little. The disapproval in Gorfeld¡¯s tone every time he referenced Matt¡¯s plans to head east was as consistent as it was amusing. Especially considering the little steward didn¡¯t know the half of what he wanted to do out there. ¡°Don¡¯t worry about it. I am mostly looking for a way to avoid dealing with it for a while. Maybe permanently.¡±

    Gorfeld nodded. ¡°That may be unwise, sire.¡±

    ¡°So I¡¯ve been told.¡± Matt shrugged. ¡°So I would need to find some way to justify it to the people. Some way that Tek or Braden or Suluth couldn¡¯t use to stir up trouble. That¡¯s why I was wondering if there was some sort of religious order I could use to my advantage.¡±

    The steward nodded again, this time absorbed in thought. ¡°I see.¡± Then he shook his head. ¡°Unfortunately, I don¡¯t believe that our traditions will help you much there. Each village may have its own Speaker, but few of them have much to say outside of the old histories, and none of them have much influence on anyone but the serfs.¡±

    Matt perked up a little. ¡°These Speakers, though. Are there any here in Redspire?¡±

    ¡°There are some.¡± Gorfeld made a face. ¡°The Red Sorceress made an example out of some of them, so they mostly stay away. Magic and honor are better guides, according to most of the nobility. Stories are for children and serfs, not those who would rule the realm.¡±

    Magic and honor. The words dovetailed nicely with the idea he¡¯d had the previous night. ¡°How does that usually apply to things like marriage?¡± The steward gave him another blank look, so he tried again. ¡°I imagine the Speaker is the one who records or authorizes marriages among the serfs. What do the nobles do?¡±

    Gorfeld frowned. ¡°They seal such contracts with magic, of course. Less likely to be used against them, or falsified.¡±

    ¡°I see.¡± Matt grinned. ¡°So here¡¯s what we¡¯ll do. Announce to the people that we used magic to determine what the best consort would be. The result was that I should remain without one for the time being until I can make the land safe. Until that time, I will need to be sealed to the land, not to any individual in it, so that my people will be kept safe¡ªand that I am bound by honor to comply. Does that sound like something a monarch could do?¡±

    It took Gorfeld a few moments to reply. ¡°Yes, sire. It would certainly explain the delay.¡± He closed his eyes and rubbed at his forehead. ¡°Some of them might doubt whether anyone has actually cast such a spell, but with enough details, we could make things convincing.¡±

    ¡°Good. I¡¯ll write something up, and you can edit it for me.¡± He grinned. ¡°While you¡¯re at it, send out a declaration that says the Speakers are welcome inside the city again. In fact, let them know I would be interested in speaking with some of them to make sure they know they are welcome. Probably not before I leave, but once I get back. Okay?¡±

    The Imp nodded, scribbling something of his own on a scrap of parchment. Matt watched him a moment longer, and then stood. ¡°All right. Time to go get my head beat in again, and then we¡¯ll meet with the Low Folk about the plans for the workers. Anything else I¡¯m forgetting?¡±

    ¡°Not dying, sire.¡±

    ¡°Oh yes. That.¡± Matt grinned a bit wider. ¡°I suppose we¡¯ll just have to fit that in where and when we can. For now, we have work to do.¡±

    Somewhat miraculously, the next two days passed in relative calm. It was only relatively calm, of course. The entire city seemed to grow more and more rushed as the banners that Matt had chosen prepared for departure. Each time that Matt rode through the streets, he could almost feel the citizens peeking at him with their peripheral vision and whispering the latest rumors about his intentions.

    Of course, it wasn¡¯t just the soldiers that were getting ready. Well over a hundred newly minted freeholders had piled into the city, answering his call to come and work. He¡¯d quickly organized them under the newly formed Assembly of the Low Folk in Redspire, who were now getting into the habit of gathering to debate the way they wanted to live in the city. While the Assembly was usually more¡­vigorous than he was used to seeing back home, Matt thought it was a good sign that they were taking their new rights seriously. He was even seeing more and more of them wearing daggers, though fortunately they seemed to just be using them for a ceremonial mark of their freeholder status.

    The foremen of the labor crews were already trying to make sense of the architectural plans he¡¯d dumped on them, which was another good sign. He didn¡¯t think that they could find most of the materials before he got back¡ªthe brick was just starting to come in from the Red Plains, and the blacksmiths in the city were having to divide their time between making weapons and tools¡ªbut once he did return, he wanted the workers he had all trained and ready to go.

    For now, though, he¡¯d simply set the workers to tearing down some of the more ramshackle homes in the northwestern part of Redspire. He¡¯d offered the people who had been living in the area a place to stay in the meantime, and a promise of future accommodations, and most of them had taken him up on the offer. Some of them had even joined the work crews, where he quickly put them to learning how to build walls out of the red brick that came from Braden¡¯s territory. He had big plans for Redspire, after all, and the more labor he could muster, the better.

    Tek seemed to be bemused by the preparations that he¡¯d set in motion, but underneath it all, he¡¯d sensed that the old Imp was waiting for something. Nobody had tried to assassinate him yet, but Matt knew the plan had to be in the works. The sooner he could leave, the sooner things would be set in motion, but he couldn¡¯t rush things too much. His men would need supplies on the roads ahead, and the last thing he wanted was to get stranded somewhere with no food and a bunch of armed, angry troops.

    It was easy to know that intellectually, but hard to remember it when, on the very last day before his scheduled departure, a messenger came to announce the arrival of a group of ambassadors from the Western Coalition. Matt almost groaned out loud as the messenger retreated. He glanced over at Gorfeld. ¡°Well? Do you think they are taking their chance to announce their own little campaign? Or is it something even worse?¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t know, sire.¡± Gorfeld shook his head doubtfully. ¡°We have not had the opportunity to welcome many peaceful embassies in recent times. Mostly they have carried terms of truce or declarations of war. Perhaps they don¡¯t even know what they intend to do yet. At least part of their mission must be to find out more about you and your plans.¡±

    ¡°And they¡¯ve probably already figured out that I¡¯m leaving my capital tomorrow.¡± Matt grimaced. It couldn¡¯t be helped, but it might give them an opening to attack while he was distracted. ¡°How many of them are there?¡±

    ¡°Eight.¡± Gorfeld frowned slightly. ¡°Two more than were really necessary; the Coalition is made up of six nations, so the additional members of the embassy are somewhat out of place. Another sign they are not bringing the usual threats.¡±

    Matt nodded. He tossed the quill on the desk and rose from his seat. ¡°Well, I suppose I can¡¯t keep them waiting. Let¡¯s see what this day has brought us.¡±

 B1Ch8: Unfriendly Truths

    The eight ambassadors were waiting in the throne room, talking amongst themselves in low tones. He didn¡¯t recognize any of them from the coronation, but it was possible that they were the same people dressed in slightly different clothes. Enough had been going on that the foreigners had been hard to keep track of.

    At the very least, he could tell their people and nationalities apart with relative ease. The Dwarf who was standing in the middle of them was wearing the badge of the Rusted Clans, whose underground borders ran right up against the territory controlled by Nuramesh in the Small Heights. Apparently the two peoples had been allies before the Gnomes had ¡®joined¡¯ the kingdom, and he had no doubt that the Dwarves would have loved to reclaim the area for their Coalition.

    Of the other seven, there were three Elves, wearing the colors of Simarenal, Wuranis, and Alterian. They were likely hostile as well, given their apparent habit of raiding the Hard Scythe Orcs and fending off retaliation. From what Gorfeld had told him, it was an endless cycle of feuds and hatred that had driven the Hard Scythes to join with the kingdom in the hopes of avoiding extermination.

    Three of the remaining four were Wizards, with the final one being an obvious Knight. She had her helmet off, and her red hair flowed down her armored back, but the heraldry from the Knights of the Bear was easy to see. The Wizards were all more of the robes and staff sort, obviously representatives of the Order of Echoes, the last member of the Coalition, and the one located the furthest from the Kingdom¡¯s borders. Two of them were unfamiliar, but there was something about that last one¡­

    All eight suddenly stopped talking as he entered the throne room. They turned to stare at him as he crossed the open space. He wore a slightly different regalia compared to the uniform he¡¯d worn that first day, but he knew they had to have immediately recognized him. Hopefully, he¡¯d be able to impress them a second time.

    Matt nodded politely to the ambassadors. ¡°Hello. Welcome to Redspire.¡±

    The ambassadors bowed, though some of them looked a little uncertain. One of the robed Wizards glanced towards the throne. They had probably been expecting him to be sitting on that cold metal thing, huh? Well, they were going to have to get used to being surprised.

    One of the Wizards stepped forward and bowed a second time. ¡°Thank you for your welcome, King Matthew. Might we ask for a portion of your time?¡±

    Matt paused. The feeling that he¡¯d seen the old man somewhere before was overpowering. He hadn¡¯t been in the room during the coronation, however. Something about him brought back the scent of pine needles, rain¡­

    Recognition dawned, and Matt let out a short bark of laughter. The other ambassadors jumped a little, with the Knight reaching for her ornate blade, but the leader didn¡¯t seem to mind. ¡°It is you. The old man from the night all this started.¡±

    The Wizard smiled. ¡°My name is Alerios, King Matthew.¡±

    ¡°Yeah, I remember now.¡± He gestured for them to follow. ¡°Have they been taking care of you? I¡¯m sorry that I haven¡¯t been able to speak with you before now.¡±

    Alerios glanced at the others and then started after him. The ambassadors trailed after, their expressions wary and their eyes alert. ¡°Yes, they have. I understand that you have several great projects in motion currently?¡±

    Matt gave him a sharp look. The Wizard was obviously showing off the fact they had people in the city giving them reports on his actions. Not a bad display of soft power, and one that he¡¯d have to overlook. ¡°You are unfortunately well informed, Alerios. But yes. I have a lot of work to do.¡± He led them along the corridor, taking them to a nearby meeting room. The place had once been used for pages served food to the monarch their invited guests. Now there was a small table, along with enough chairs to seat all of them.

    He took the chair at the head of the table and allowed the others to filter along to whatever places they saw fit. Alerios took the chair at Matt¡¯s left hand; the Knight grabbed the chair at his right. The Dwarf sat at the extreme opposite end of the table, glowering all the while, and the other Elves and Wizards filled the rest of the space.

    It took a moment for them all to be seated. Once everyone had settled in, Matt glanced at Gorfeld, who was waiting dutifully at his elbow. ¡°Could you find refreshments for our guests, Gorfeld? Though they might have their own food, I imagine the road here was long.¡±

    Alerios smiled. ¡°Magic eased our journey considerably, actually. But a bit of water never goes awry.¡±

    Gorfeld bowed his way out of the room, and Matt turned his attention back to his guests. ¡°So. May I ask what brings you to Redspire today?¡±

    ¡°We¡¯ve come to see if you¡¯re as much a murdering bastard as the last one who sat the throne, so stop wasting our time you silly nitwit!¡±

    The exclamation hung in the air for a moment, aided by the Dwarf¡¯s thundering growl, and Matt raised his eyebrows. Alerios cleared his throat. His voice was deceptively mild. ¡°I must point out that although he is a visitor to our realm, King Matthew has the Divine Right, and can understand any language of the realm. Including, as I understand it, Dwarven mine cant.¡±

    To his credit, the Dwarf only looked surprised instead of horrified. Then his scowl returned with interest. ¡°I meant what I said, and so do the rest of you. He offered peace, so I hear, but it is easy to say, hard to believe.¡±

    Matt fixed the Dwarf with a steady stare. ¡°True enough. Though I would point out that harsh words are a poor substitute for honesty and respect.¡±

    As the Dwarf spluttered with sudden fury, the Knight to Matt¡¯s right spoke up. ¡°We are unaccustomed to honesty from the throne of Redspire, your Majesty. You should not blame us if we are skeptical about hearing it now.¡±

    ¡°Interesting that you demand proof from me while offering none of your own. Or are the only raiders on our shared border Orcs?¡± Matt held her gaze for long enough to make the Knight flush and look away, and then turned his attention to the Elves. ¡°How many of your own raiders have you sponsored over the years? It¡¯s asking quite a lot for me to trust that you won¡¯t simply turn to it again while I am supposedly occupied with other matters.¡±

    The Dwarf finally choked out words past the bolus of rage in his throat. ¡°As if any of us would stoop to such methods. Yours are the raiders and the looters, the filth!¡±

    Matt nearly had to bite his lip as the Elves collectively seemed to alternate between glaring at their supposed ally and shrinking down into their chairs. He let them squirm a moment before switching back to the Dwarf. ¡°Of course. The Rusted Clans would never do anything underhanded¡­such as attempting to entice one of our peoples to rebel? Or are those secret maneuvers somehow more honorable because they are literally underground?¡±

    He watched as the Dwarf opened his mouth. No words came out, and the Dwarf flushed a deeper purple. Matt waited until the ambassador had closed his mouth again, and then he sighed. ¡°Look, I understand that there are unpleasant histories between our people. Given what I¡¯ve been able to learn of it, your Coalition and my Kingdom have more than enough reason to hate and kill one another for centuries. I think we already all knew that before we walked into this room. What I am asking now is, are there any reasons for us not to do that? Have you come here to find reasons to not continue that cycle of killing for as long as either of us has blood in our veins?¡±

    There was a silence. Then Alerios spoke, his voice curiously amused. ¡°You have made your point adequately, King Matthew. And you have done an admirable job of bringing us to the salient point of discussion.¡± The Wizard leaned forward slightly, resting one arm on the table as he turned slightly more to face Matt. ¡°The Coalition has entrusted us with the responsibility of securing a more permanent truce with you, if it be possible. I will not deny that your earlier actions on our behalf weigh heavily in that decision, but we will not accept anything that allows you to continue to prey on our people.¡±

    Matt felt his heart beat harder. He smiled. ¡°Good. What guarantees can you offer me?¡±

    Alerios coughed slightly into his free hand and then raised an eyebrow. ¡°A concession we were instructed to seek was a cessation of any border raids by your people on our territory.¡±

    ¡°So long as you do the same, I agree.¡± Matt glanced at the Elves, who avoided his gaze. ¡°In addition, I propose that if there is any evidence of raiding by either side, we are allowed to demand the surrender of the responsible parties¡ªfor either imprisonment or execution.¡±

    One of the Elves, a woman with blue hair, red eyes, and painfully pointed ears, stood up from the table with a snarl on her face. ¡°No! I will never subject my people to the false accusations and lies of your barbarians!¡±

    ¡°I did not say accusations, ambassador. I said evidence.¡± Matt smiled unpleasantly. ¡°After all, I¡¯m sure that many raiders have a tendency to not leave any witnesses alive and free to testify against them. Burnt villages, dead citizens, and other traces, however¡­¡±

    One of the other Elves, this one with skin as pale as Itrelia¡¯s had been and golden hair, gestured for his companion to sit. ¡°And there will be a forum where such evidence will be presented?¡±

    ¡°Of course. By both sides.¡± Matt spread his hands. ¡°I have no interest in allowing disorder to spread through my lands, and raiders are often casual about the laws of their own nation, in addition to those of outsiders. I have every intention of making sure that no bandits live among my people.¡±

    Then he let his voice grow cold. ¡°And if I see any sign of bandits among yours, you will either surrender them to me, or I will seek them out. They, and any who shelter them, will know my wrath, treaty or no treaty. This I promise you.¡±

    The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

    The silence this time was deep. He watched as the Elf grew paler, and as the one who had stood sunk down into her seat. After a moment longer, he turned back to the Knight. ¡°Did you recognize my sincerity now, my lady ambassador?¡±

    Her eyes wide, the Knight simply stared back at him. The slow nod she eventually gave him was a minor victory, but one he considered well worth the effort. Matt looked from her, to the Elves, and then back at Alerios. ¡°Well then, no more raiding. Were there any other concerns?¡±

    One of the other Wizards, a younger man whose voice was more than a little unsteady, half-raised his hand. ¡°We would like to see less of your soldiers armed and on our borders, King Matthew.¡±

    Matt turned to the Wizard. ¡°I¡¯m afraid that I have no intention of disarming my people, ambassador, and if I did, they would have every right to kill me where I stand.¡± He spread his arms wide. ¡°I have enemies that intend to steal our lives and land on all sides¡ªexcept our border with you, of course¡ªand those wars demand that I both ready the people to fight and see that they are able to defend themselves.¡±

    The young Wizard leaned forward a little, his eyes suddenly eager. ¡°But with the truce extended between us, surely there is no reason to¡ª¡±

    Alerios put a hand on his companion¡¯s arm, and the young man cut off. Matt smiled. ¡°Would you care to instruct him, Alerios, or should I?¡±

    The older Wizard gave him a reproachful look. ¡°Perhaps it would be better to hear your reasons, your Majesty.¡±

    ¡°As you wish.¡± Matt shrugged. ¡°Our truce is new and untested. I cannot reduce our border guards until I am sure it will hold¡ªa practice I¡¯m sure the Coalition will also follow on their side of the border. Besides, I¡¯m afraid that my soldiers may be occupied with keeping the peace among my own people. If I wish for them to stop raiding, it will probably be my soldiers who need to restrain them, as well as enforcing my other laws.¡±

    The younger ambassador sat back, his expression unsatisfied, but he said nothing. The third Wizard glanced at him with some measure of sympathy and then spoke up. ¡°You¡¯ll excuse our eagerness to see peace blossom here, King Matthew. One day, perhaps your Kingdom will no longer see the need for such barbaric preparations for war.¡±

    Matt raised his eyes. ¡°In my home, there is a saying. If you value peace, prepare for war.¡± The ambassadors exchanged looks with each other, and he continued. ¡°Our arms may deter some among you who would be tempted to extend their reach into our lands, thus keeping the peace. In addition, it¡¯s my observation that many people who desire peace want everyone else to lay down their arms, so they alone can enjoy protection and respect. I have no intention of robbing my people of either, just for assurances from you.¡±

    The two Wizards shifted uncomfortably in their seats, and Matt glanced at Alerios again. He caught the older Wizard examining him, his blue and yellow eyes bright with some emotion that he couldn¡¯t identify. Was it interest? Amusement? Or delight at a novice stepping into a trap? A moment later, the Wizard¡¯s expression closed down into a careful, blank look.

    Before he could continue, the Dwarf cleared his throat. ¡°If you care so much for your people, will you be setting the Small Heights free, then?¡±

    Matt looked back at the Dwarf, who seemed to have regained some of his previous stubbornness. ¡°No.¡±

    An expectant silence followed the flat denial. Matt let it continue. He had no intention of letting pieces of his realm go out of his control, not until he could stabilize things. Especially not considering what was probably going on in the Small Heights at that very moment.

    ¡°Your pardon, King Matthew.¡± The Knight¡¯s voice was far more careful than it had been before. When he looked back at her, there was a kind of respect in her expression that he hadn¡¯t remembered when she had first spoken. ¡°You may not be aware, but in times past, the Gnomes of the Small Heights were members of our Coalition. They lost their freedom to the Kingdom in war, and there are many among us that would rejoice to see them regain it.¡±

    ¡°I see.¡± Matt gave her a respectful nod in return. ¡°Unfortunately, I cannot change what has happened in the past, and at the moment, the Small Heights have consented to continue as part of our Kingdom. I will not turn my back on them, for any reason, especially while others of the Kingdom are shedding their blood in defense of those lands.¡±

    ¡°What?¡± The blond Elf was the one who spoke, and his face was shocked. ¡°The Small Heights are under attack?¡±

    Matt frowned, wondering what the problem was. Then he caught sight of the other two Elves darting glances at the Dwarf, and realization dawned. ¡°It is nothing your Coalition needs to concern itself with, only an internal matter. All the same, I cannot ask my soldiers to die for land that they will then have to surrender to a people who did not fight for its defense.¡±

    The Knight nodded slowly. ¡°A reasonable concern.¡± She leaned forward slightly. ¡°All the same, it seems as if you might be able to let the Gnomes go free at least. Or as many as no longer see your Kingdom as home.¡±

    It was a request that made Matt sit back and think for a moment. The fewer people he had sitting around and unhappy with him inside his borders, the better. Then again, having them outside his borders and unhappy with him wasn¡¯t the best either. ¡°While a border open to migration and trade does sound tempting, at the moment, I must refuse. The Kingdom¡¯s need for arms and labor is too great¡ªand I suspect the temptation to slip a few spies and saboteurs among the displaced would be a bit too strong. Perhaps we can revisit the subject in the future.¡±

    She nodded, and the Dwarf snorted. ¡°As if any of ours would ever wish to live under the heel of a tyrant.¡±

    Matt grinned at him. ¡°You would be surprised, ambassador. Perhaps they would find more freedom here than they would at their supposed home.¡±

    The Dwarf snorted and rolled his eyes, but it seemed to be more of an expression of permanent grumpiness than one of actual resentment. It seemed as if he had vented at least some of his bluster, or at least enough that he no longer wanted to bite Matt¡¯s nose off. Progress, of a sort.

    One of the Elves, the one wearing the blue and red of Alterian, spoke up. Her voice was very uncertain, as if the discomfort of her companions had made her worry about speaking. ¡°We have heard some strange news among your people. There are now freeholders among you? What people is that? Are they yours?¡±

    Despite himself, Matt grinned again. ¡°You could say so, though they are not from my world. I am a Human, for future reference.¡± She nodded, and he continued. ¡°The freeholders are a new class among my people. They are free to move about the land as they will, and to pursue their own trades. They have the right to arm themselves, to petition the crown for justice, and the responsibility to defend the Kingdom.¡±

    ¡°They are nobles, then?¡± The young Wizard was plainly confused, but too interested to restrain himself.

    ¡°No. They stand apart from the nobility, in that they have not been granted titles or noble privileges. They cannot raise their own armies, for example, and do not have the right to attend the Grand Council.¡± He looked over as the Alterian raised her hand slightly.

    ¡°So they are unbound. Leaderless. Unprotected.¡± She seemed troubled, as if she had found an abandoned dog on the side of the road. ¡°Who will care for them in their time of need?¡±

    ¡°They will care for themselves, ambassador, as I am certain they can.¡± Matt tapped the table with one finger. ¡°And if that is not enough, then I will. I have sworn to do so, and I will see them safe.¡±

    She nodded and sat back, though she and the others looked a little uncertain. Alerios was the next to speak, his voice almost elaborately casual.

    ¡°Along those lines, King Matthew, I have one last question for you.¡± He tilted his head slightly to one side. ¡°I understand that your oath during the coronation was somewhat¡­unusual.¡±

    Matt met the Wizard¡¯s eyes and frowned a little. ¡°I suppose so. I did not think it was that important.¡±

    ¡°Then you may have been misinformed, your Majesty.¡± Alerios paused, glancing around the table. ¡°You see, the wording of that oath is something that has been handed down for generations.¡±

    Still frowning, Matt tapped the table slowly. ¡°I understand that traditions are often important, but I felt¡ª¡±

    The Wizard was shaking his head now. ¡°Not simply tradition, your Majesty. Magic. And in magic, wording can be very important indeed.¡±

    Matt felt a chill in his blood. He remembered the power that had surged through him, heard the lightning roaring outside the windows. ¡°I see.¡±

    ¡°Perhaps you do.¡± Alerios smiled a little. It did not reach his eyes. ¡°You see, the wording has been standard not just in this kingdom, but in nearly all the realms. All the ones that I have had the pleasure of visiting, of course.¡±

    Forcing a smile, Matt gestured for him to continue. ¡°Is there a reason why? Don¡¯t tell me that I¡¯ve missed out on some spell that would have kept the wars from our door.¡±

    Alerios gave him a wry smile in return. ¡°No, your Majesty. Nothing that simple. You see, the coronation is a binding spell of a sort. The new monarch gives the lands their promise and in return they gain some measure of power.¡±

    Matt thought over the standard wording that Gorfeld had made him memorize. The acceptance of fealty, the demands for obedience, the claiming of conquest. ¡°There didn¡¯t seem to be a lot of promises in what they told me to say.¡±

    The Wizard nodded. ¡°Correct. You see, it was quickly found that in making those promises, one opened oneself up to vulnerability. The more a monarch promised to do, the more they found themselves bound to the work of overseeing their realm. If they break those promises, and the realm suffers¡­¡±

    ¡°The monarch suffers.¡± His mouth went a little dry. ¡°Like the Fisher King.¡±

    There was a stir among the ambassadors. Alerios himself went very, very still. ¡°Who, your Majesty?¡±

    ¡°Nothing. Just an old story from home.¡± Matt¡¯s mind was racing, trying to remember what exactly he had said during the coronation. ¡°A king had been wounded, and his land suffered while he was not able to heal. The land and the king were connected, and when one faltered, so did the other.¡±

    ¡°Ah. Yes.¡± Alerios glanced at the others. ¡°Such is the case. So many who were crowned found both they and their lands suffered due to their misplaced pride when the oaths went unfulfilled.¡±

    The Wizard paused, and he met Matt¡¯s eyes. ¡°I hope, King Matthew, that you live up to yours.¡±

    ¡°I did warn you about the wording, sire.¡±

    Gorfeld somehow managed to mingle respect with reproach, and Matt grimaced. He hadn¡¯t exactly taken Alerios¡¯ revelations the previous day well. ¡°Yeah, I guess you did.¡± Then he gave the Imp a steady look. ¡°At the same time, you were going to have me swear to be king here for the rest of my entire life, so maybe your intentions weren¡¯t as pure as you¡¯re saying.¡±

    The Imp had the grace to look a little ashamed of himself, though the expression was a brief one. ¡°All the same, sire, that is a concern for another day. Are you certain that you wish to depart? I¡¯m sure Greymouth would hold just fine for another day or two.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s not going to be the point, Gorfeld.¡± Matt turned back to his own preparations, packing away the maps he¡¯d had made of the area. ¡°The banners are ready to move, and so am I. We leave tomorrow at first light.¡±

    His steward nodded and seemed to be on the edge of wringing his hands. ¡°You still believe that it is wise to leave Lord Tek here unsupervised? The damage he could do¡­¡±

    Matt¡¯s imagination did an admirable job of filling in the blanks, but he nodded anyway. ¡°Yeah. It¡¯s all part of the plan. You just make sure that the captains stay firm, and that they muster some of the freeholders to defend the city. That should keep him from doing anything obvious until I get back.¡±

    Gorfeld bowed his head in acceptance, though Matt still noticed a bit of mulishness in his advisor¡¯s face. ¡°I still believe that the risk is unwarranted, sire. To place yourself on the front lines so soon is a gamble that might cost you your life.¡±

    ¡°Then I guess you¡¯ll just have to hope your next king or queen is wiser, Gorfeld.¡± He finished adjusting the armored surcoat the barracks quartermasters had supplied him with and nodded to himself. It was a bit of a pain to take on and off, but it was something he could do for himself in the field, and his troops would see him as that much more of an independent soldier. Even if half of them knew he¡¯d been getting beaten about the ears by Nikles and his friends for the past half a week.

    ¡°Okay then, I¡¯ll be going.¡± He stepped over to the steward and clapped him lightly on the shoulder. As Gorfeld looked up, Matt leaned in close. ¡°Be ready to move when I tell you. You can trust whatever messages I send, as long as they have some of my writing on it. Understand?¡±

    The Imp nodded slowly, his eyes slightly narrowed. He didn¡¯t know all of Matt¡¯s plans¡ªit was probably wiser that way, in case Tek got a bit too anticipatory while Matt was away¡ªbut he knew enough. Matt stepped back and settled his pack on his shoulder. ¡°I¡¯ll be home in two weeks, maybe three. I expect to see everything taken care of in my absence.¡±

    ¡°It will be done, sire.¡± Gorfeld bowed low, and Matt strode past him and into the corridor beyond. His troops would be waiting for him¡ªand so would his enemies.

 B1Ch9: Crossing the River

    The day was a bright one, fortunately, with only a hint of a chill on the wind. It wasn¡¯t quite enough to penetrate the armored surcoat that Matt was wearing, but he could still feel it in his fingers and face. Nelson seemed unbothered by it, plodding on along with the rest of the column as the army he commanded marched out through the city gates.

    His mount¡¯s apparent lack of alarm was actually fairly amazing, given that a pack of Wargs surrounded it. Matt tried his hardest to follow Nelson¡¯s example as they rode together into the autumn morning, leaving the safety and dangers of Redspire behind. He refused to glance back, though he was almost certain he could feel Tek¡¯s eyes on him as the gates swung shut behind the last of his soldiers.

    Captain Snolt rode next to him, still grumbling and grousing at anything within eyesight. The Warg the captain rode was covered in battle scars visible even through its thick grey pelt. At the very least, it didn¡¯t seem interested in eating Nelson, or the warbuck¡¯s rider, but Matt still occasionally caught it glancing his way. More than once, he had to remind himself that he was making the best of a bad situation. It didn¡¯t make those fangs look any friendlier.

    As the morning rolled on, the countryside surrounding the city gave way to forested hills. The road they followed wove between the rises, following some ancient path that grain carts and cattle had beaten into the hard-packed earth over the centuries. Trees still dressed in their brilliant colors flanked the road, occasionally letting a leaf or two fall to join their slippery brethren already in the mud.

    The army seemed to make good time, to Matt¡¯s inexperienced eye, and he occasionally consulted a crude map he had sketched out on a fragment of parchment. The first day would not be the worst one, but he had a schedule to keep, and it would be best not to arrive too late or too early for what needed to be done.

    When he checked that map for the second or third time, Captain Snolt glanced up at him from his Warg. ¡°You needn¡¯t worry, your Highness. We¡¯re going to reach the fort as soon as we are able. Some delays are natural, but you shouldn¡¯t fear us getting lost. It¡¯s not like the road is a mystery, after all.¡±

    Matt grinned at him, still amused by what passed for the Captain¡¯s charm. ¡°That¡¯s not what I¡¯m worried about, Captain. I just want everything to go on schedule.¡±

    Snolt grimaced a bit, looking around at the marching soldiers and trotting Wargs. ¡°Well, you¡¯ve set us a hard pace, to be sure. I doubt that we could reach the fort any faster.¡± The Captain paused, saying the next words as if to himself. ¡°At least, by this path, we can¡¯t.¡±

    Looking away, Matt pretended not to hear the remark. It was a fair comment, of course; the more traditional method of riding to Greymouth apparently cut a straighter course through the hills, following a series of border posts through the mountains until they reached the high pass where the fortress stood. Both Tek and Snolt had expected the army to follow that road, at least until Matt had insisted they follow a much different path.

    The road the army was on now wove along the southern side of the River Crimson, twisting along it until it reached the small town of Engram¡¯s Hill, then turned sharply east to rejoin the main road. It was less steep than the other path, which had been the reason Matt had told them. He¡¯d been concerned about the supply carts he was protecting, he had said. Snolt had gently tried to persuade him otherwise, but Matt had remained firm.

    Tek, on the other hand, had been suspiciously silent¡ªand Gorfeld had told him that a messenger had snuck out of the city that same night. Headed north across the river, where Matt had half-expected them to go.

    Matt pushed those thoughts aside and turned back to Snolt. ¡°Do you think that the carts will have any trouble keeping this pace, then?¡±

    The Goblin shook his head. ¡°No, sire. I imagine that those aurochs could keep this up until they fall over dead, especially on this road.¡± He glanced back at where two of the great beasts were lumbering along, dragging the cart behind them to keep up with the soldiers. ¡°They¡¯re sturdy beasts, to be sure. Not much troubles them.¡±

    ¡°Then I envy them their lot.¡± Matt shrugged a little when the Captain glanced at him. He cursed himself internally for the remark, but it was hard, knowing what was coming and not being able to give any clue. The others around him had no reason to be nervous¡ªat least none they knew about. Unfortunately, Matt was a totally different story.

    The journey was blissfully free of interruptions for the rest of that first day. Matt camped along with his soldiers in more or less exactly the place where he had planned, and he experienced his first real night under the stars since he had left Wyoming. His tent at least kept out the chill, and he found a decent enough spot that didn¡¯t have too many tree roots. As king, he didn¡¯t even have to keep watch, which was nice.

    Nonetheless, he¡¯d spent half the night tossing and turning, and he was in what his mother would have called a sorry state by the time morning came. As he buckled on his armor, he made sure to tighten everything securely. It was today, he knew, if it would happen at all. If not, perhaps so much the better.

    Then he remembered the look in Tek¡¯s eyes and shook himself. Optimism was not a luxury he could afford, not now. Not today.

    When he left his tent, Captain Snolt was waiting for him. The Goblin braced to attention. ¡°Sire, the sentries reported no activity last night.¡±

    It was another pointed reminder that the Captain had not appreciated having to order his men to keep the watch in the first place. Obviously, he felt they were in friendly territory, and that Matt was being overly paranoid. The attitude was probably a good sign that Snolt had been on garrison duty a little too long. Matt simply nodded. ¡°Excellent. The scouts are ready to move ahead of our path?¡±

    The Captain nodded, his face still sour. ¡°Yes, sir. They will be reporting back every hour or so.¡±

    ¡°Good.¡± Matt nodded again. Then he pointed at the nearby trees. ¡°Before we leave this morning, I want some of our troops to cut down as many branches as they can and stack them on top of the supply carts. Load each one up with at least two or three branches before we leave.¡±

    Snolt paused. He looked a little exasperated. ¡°Sire?¡±

    Matt didn¡¯t give him time to protest. ¡°After that, I want to make sure that everyone has their armor and weapons ready. Everyone in their armor, everyone with weapons to hand. Do you understand, Captain?¡±

    Something about his voice must have given away a sign of the tension Matt was feeling, because this time the Captain stopped cold. He studied Matt a moment before responding. ¡°Yes, sire.¡±

    He waited to make sure that there weren¡¯t any other objections or complaints. Then he nodded. ¡°Get moving, Captain, and make sure that the men are ready. You¡¯re dismissed.¡±

    Captain Snolt rode alongside him for the rest of the morning. The Goblin was still grumbling and grouchy, but not nearly as much now. Matt caught Snolt watching him, occasionally, as if was wary now. He hoped that it just meant he was worried, not unreliable.

    Some of the soldiers were singing as they marched, some song about battles long past and glories still remembered. Matt thought he could hear Nikles and some of his group among them, but he tried to focus on what he needed to do instead.

    About midday, he caught sight of a peculiar hill in the distance. It was covered in the charred remnants of some ancient magical war, with the top reduced to glass and obsidian. His mouth went dry, and he consulted his map one last time. They were there.

    He kept his hands as steady as they could be on the reins. A significant part of him wanted to yank on the reins, either to speed up or to turn back the way he¡¯d come. Neither was a real option, though, so despite his nerves, Matt forced himself to stay steady and wait. The army continued to march up until the point where it was even with the burnt hill.

    The bare stone was rising off the south of the road when Matt turned to Captain Snolt and spoke firmly. ¡°Call a halt. We¡¯ll rest here for fifteen minutes, and we¡¯ll continue on from here.¡±

    Snolt jumped a little in his saddle, and his Warg growled a little. The Goblin bent slightly to scratch it back into complacency, and then turned to look at Matt. Whatever the Captain saw, he nodded without complaint. ¡°Yes, sire.¡±

    A moment later, he was yelling for the troops to stop. The signalers trumpeted the order up the line, and the soldiers¡¯ songs fell to pieces as they moved off to the side of the road. Matt waited until the carts rolled to a stop as well and looked to Snolt again. ¡°Call the other Captains. I want to speak with them in less than five minutes.¡±

    Snolt nodded again, and as he rode off, Matt directed Nelson towards an isolated spot in the treeline. He didn¡¯t want to be too close to the rest of the army, and he also didn¡¯t want to be too far from the road. Things were going to need to be done quickly now.

    It took only a handful of minutes for the Captains to gather. Snolt had to have told them something, because all five officers looked uncertain. Matt mentally reviewed their names as they approached. Karve and Teplas led the Third and the Eighth Spears; both Orcs looked like they had spent plenty of time on the front lines, with the scars to prove it. The Imp Captains, Creps and Bort, were less heavily scarred, but the Footmen of the Fourth and Tenth were crossbowmen. They likely stayed as far from the melee as anyone on the battlefield. Last came Snolt, who was still mounted on his old, war-scarred Warg, his eyes still wary.

    Matt waited until all five had joined him next to Nelson, with Snolt swinging down from the saddle. ¡°Thank you for coming. First, I want to have your men take the branches they cut this morning and tie them to the backs of the supply carts. The ends of the branches need to drag in the dirt behind the carts as they move.¡±

    All five officers exchanged odd looks. Karve spoke up, his words careful. ¡°That will kick up a lot of dust, sire. The men won¡¯t appreciate having to breathe it in as they walk.¡±

    ¡°They won¡¯t have to, because the supply carts are going to be moving on without us.¡± The five captains all blinked in surprise, exchanging another alarmed look. Snolt was the only exception; he was still staring at Matt, as if he was watching his own doom approach. ¡°We¡¯ll rendezvous with them in two days if we can. More likely, they are going to need to proceed to Greymouth on their own, and we¡¯ll catch up with them after.¡±

    ¡°After¡­what, sire?¡± Bort¡¯s cautious question would have been a clear sign of concern if he hadn¡¯t already been showing obvious worry on his face.

    Matt smiled, hoping it was a reassuring expression. ¡°Less than three miles from here is the River Crimson. It¡¯s probably about a thirty-minute walk, wouldn¡¯t you say?¡±

    ¡°Aye, sire.¡± Creps was looking a little more like Snolt now, who seemed to take every word as a confirmation of trouble ahead. ¡°Though we¡¯ve been close to the river the whole march. Why do you mention it now?¡±

    ¡°Because here there happens to be a ford across the river. A rare spot, but one that is fairly well known.¡± Matt shrugged slightly. ¡°There was some talk of putting a bridge over it once, but it never went anywhere. The reason was because¡ª¡±

    ¡°Only the Frost Elves would use it.¡± Snolt¡¯s face had gone grey now, and his hands clenched tight. ¡°They only rarely came to reinforce the fort, so it wasn¡¯t necessary.¡±

    ¡°Not for reinforcement, no. But if you knew the ford was there, and wanted to bring an army over the river and ambush a group on the road¡­¡± Matt let their imaginations fill in the rest, and then made as if he was tightening a strap on his armor. ¡°As we speak, I believe that we have an army slightly larger than our own starting to cross the ford. It will take them some time, since they have to be careful crossing the water, but once they are across, they are going to try to hunt us down and kill us. Even if they don¡¯t succeed, they¡¯ll be in a fairly good position to cut off supplies to Greymouth and help starve the fort into submission.¡±

    ¡°Itrelia.¡± Teplas growled the name, and spat on the ground. ¡°She¡¯s working with the Noble Races after all, then.¡±

    ¡°Definitely. She might not be here, but she will want me dead and the enemy across the mountains to help her secure the throne.¡± He looked among them, feeling tense. If any of the captains were in on the plot, now would be the time for them to strike.

    Instead of an attack, however, he saw a mixture of numb acceptance and growing fear. Not a great sign, but better than treachery. At least, he hoped it was.

    Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

    ¡°For that reason, I want the men to rest, to get into formation, and to move north. We can be at the ford within a half hour, even moving quietly.¡±

    ¡°It might be too late to stop them from crossing, sire.¡± Karve¡¯s face was a serious one. The Orc was already looking around at the trees on the other side of the road, as if he expected the Frost Elves to appear out of the woods at any moment. ¡°It may be best to withdraw along the road.¡±

    Matt grinned. ¡°No. Not after I spent all this effort to draw them out!¡± The captains looked back at him, and he chuckled a bit. ¡°I wouldn¡¯t have wanted to prevent them from crossing anyways. If you stop an army at a bridge or a ford, they might fight you for a while, but in the end, they¡¯ll just find another way to cross and hit you from behind. No, better that we wait until they are halfway across¡­¡±

    Understanding dawned in their eyes. Snolt was looking at him with something approaching astonishment now, and the others seemed to relax slightly. At the very least, they didn¡¯t look like they were ready to drop their weapons and run. Matt would just need to hope that they would stay that way when the time came.

    ¡°Now, get those branches tied to the carts and the wagons on their way. Once they move off, we¡¯ll march north. I want the men ready, well rested, and quiet. Anyone who gives us away before I sound the attack is going to wish the Elves got them. Am I clear?¡± The captains nodded, and Matt drew in a deep breath. ¡°Then let¡¯s move. We have no time to waste.¡±

    Less than half an hour later, Matt was watching through a thin bit of brush as an army came for his head.

    They weren¡¯t coming very quickly, not yet at least, but it was clear they were serious about it. He recognized the flags of at least six banners worth of troops. Two of them belonged to the Winterknights, Itrelia¡¯s elite warriors. They rode smaller, more graceful versions of Nelson, called icestags, apparently. Each one wore solid black plate armor that looked strong enough to stop a rifle shot. The rest were made up of the lighter forces that Gorfeld had told him were the bulk of the Frost Elf militia. Lightly armed, they were meant to use their longbows to ambush and harass from afar, though they carried short spears and thin shields for closer ranged combat.

    Fortunately, not all of those banners were across the river quite yet. One of the Winterknight banners had already finished crossing, along with two of the skirmisher banners. The ford was full of Elven riders and footmen still struggling through the hip-deep water of the River Crimson, while there were at least two more banners of skirmishers still waiting for their chance to brave the water. Those who had actually reached the near bank were still shaking water from their boots and grimacing from the occasional gust of autumnal chill. Apparently, even a Frost Elf could feel the bite of hypothermia. None of them appeared to be aware of any danger to them at all.

    It was, quite possibly, the most beautiful thing Matt had ever seen.

    All around him, the Wargs of the First were gathered under the fading autumn foliage. They were sheltered from the Elves by the undergrowth, and for once the Wargs were silent. The beasts were panting lightly, and some of them shifted in eagerness to be at their business, but the Goblins were keeping their mounts in check. Captain Snolt stood next to him, clearly anxious to begin, if only to end the waiting.

    Off to the right, the Eighth Spears and Fourth Footmen were creeping through the brush as close as they dared to the ford. The Third Spears and Tenth Footmen had already settled into a small dip in the terrain off to the left, ready to begin the attack the moment he gave the signal. Every moment he waited, there was a larger possibility that someone would discover them and that his plans would come to nothing. Anything could give the game away. An Elven scout could rush into the woods and cry out, or some lucky skirmisher could glance at the trees at just the right time. For all he knew, some Imp was about to ruin more than a week of careful deception and planning by accidentally firing his crossbow into the sky.

    At the same time, the moment he gave the order to charge, Matt would be walking into a war.

    He¡¯d never fought, aside from that rainy night back on Earth. His father had gone hunting with him, but this was going to be different. People were going to die, a lot of people, and one of them could very well be him. Being a king wasn¡¯t some kind of miraculous forcefield that was going to turn aside spearpoints or arrows. If anything, riding into battle on a giant moose-stag hybrid was going to make him even more of a target.

    Yet it wasn¡¯t even the danger that was giving him pause. When he¡¯d killed the Red Sorceress, he¡¯d just been reacting. It had been as much instinct and accident more than anything else. This time, it was going to be murder. The formal, justified kind, but murder all the same. Blood was going to stain him, going forward. There was no way around it.

    ¡°Sire.¡± Snolt¡¯s voice was low, but worry was clear in the whisper. ¡°The right has given their signal. We¡¯re ready.¡±

    Matt nodded, but he didn¡¯t say anything. He watched, waiting as another Winterknight moved forward through the ford. The rider struggled slightly as their mount¡¯s hoof slipped on a submerged stone. For a moment, the Elf fought with their reins as their icestag regained their balance, and then forged ahead, nearing the shore.

    As that rider splashed free of the water, Matt raised his mace. Around him, he felt Wargs and Goblins alike tense. He looked around, making eye contact with the signaler. The Goblin raised a horn to his lips and then paused.

    The moment seemed to stretch out for an infinity.

    Then Matt swept his mace forward, feeling the weight shift in his hands. The trumpet blared to life in three clear notes. By the time the third note sounded, Matt had already urged Nelson forward, and the snarling voices of a hundred Wargs rumbled to life behind him.

    He¡¯d wanted to start the attack at a full charge, but Snolt and the other Captains had stopped him from making that mistake. Charge too early, they had said, and the men would reach the battle already tired. So he brought Nelson up to a trot, watching the enemy as they reacted to the sudden appearance of his forces. It was agonizing, watching them scramble to prepare themselves while the distance shrank, but it couldn¡¯t be helped. His infantry was going to take even longer to get into position, which was something he didn¡¯t especially want to think about yet.

    It took well over half a minute to trot across the open ground, a time that felt like it lasted much, much longer. He gripped the handle of his mace and watched the enemy. The Winterknights were trying to form up, pushing their way through the milling mass of infantry. It wasn¡¯t going well; Elven skirmishers were trying to form ranks as well, trying to decide whether to take up their spears or start firing arrows. Some of them settled on the latter, and he saw projectiles rise in fitful bursts from their ranks.

    His fingers tightened on the reins as the first shafts started to fall among his troops. None of them appeared to hit anything that he could see, though one of the Wargs yipped in surprise behind him. At the same time, he heard the slap of dozens of crossbows in response as his Footmen responded. Bolts fell in a lethal rain, knocking dozens of Elves from their feet and sowing even more chaos among their ranks. At least one Elven banner began to fall as the skirmisher holding it was wounded, but another Elf leapt over to grab it before it hit the ground.

    Matt kept moving forward, his eyes still on the Elves ahead. The ones still in the ford were trying to move faster to join their companions already on the shore. He saw a Winterknight spur their icestag forward. They made it a handful of bounding leaps through the water before their footing betrayed them; he saw them go down and the water close over them. Matt yanked his eyes back to where the enemy was now falling into ranks, getting ready to receive the charge. The distance had fallen, and a glance to the left told him that Snolt was looking to him for the next order.

    It was time.

    Matt gestured forward with his mace again, with the enemy seeming terribly close. He could see the horrified looks on their faces as the trumpeter blew another three clear notes, and he spurred Nelson forward. The warbuck abruptly sprang into a gallop, his thundering hooves eating up the remaining distance at a terrifying pace. Wargs went from a lope to a sprint around him, their rising growls and pants competing with the rushing wind and the hammering of Matt¡¯s own heart.

    The moments seemed to sharpen, growing crystal clear. He saw the Elves in front of him bracing themselves, their spears rising in a feeble attempt to keep his cavalry back. An arrow whistled by him, close enough he could hear the shaft go by. A Winterknight was yelling, his voice a brutal bellow above the other shouts and screams. Snolt was yelling too, but Matt couldn¡¯t understand him. Those spears were coming up so fast, and¡ª

    Impact. Nelson bowed his head just enough to bring his antlers to bear and smashed an Elf backwards and down. A second Elf was hit by Nelson¡¯s shoulder and spun away into the ranks like a broken toy. Matt leaned down and swung his mace down and to the right, and a third Elf took the hit and fell. All around him, Wargs were leaping into the ranks of the enemy, teeth seeking throats as the Goblins on their backs swung broad-bladed sabers.

    Matt kept swinging as well, urging Nelson forward into the mass of enemies. Elves seemed to be everywhere, stabbing up at him or at Nelson, falling back as antlers, hooves, or mace swings fended them off. A spear stabbed at him and struck one of the metal plates sewn into his surcoat; he hit the skirmisher in the shoulder with his mace, and the Elf went down hard. A Winterknight tried to push close to him, his cold, double-edged blade swinging wildly, but a Warg leaped on him and dragged him from his icestag.

    An arrow clipped his helmet, ringing it like a bell. Matt clutched at his head for a moment, and a screaming Elf tried to stab Nelson in the throat. The warbuck bellowed and batted the spear aside with his antlers. He saw the Elf go down under Nelson¡¯s hooves and deflected yet another spear looking to disembowel him. Where were the infantry? How long had it been?

    The Elves were pressing in around him, their sheer numbers preventing Nelson from making any more headway. The Wargs were still with him; a desperate glance backward told him that Snolt was fighting to catch up, his Warg snarling and snapping while the Captain cut and stabbed. He couldn¡¯t see the Spears beyond that, though he thought he could hear another combined snap of dozens of crossbows. There was a sudden, terrifying worry that the bolts would come down around him, this time, and he started to pull Nelson back.

    At that moment, a sudden burning cold struck him halfway up his left shoulder. He shouted in pain and dismay as he felt the ethereal ice stab at him, and he looked back to see another Winterknight pushing close through the crowd. The Elf was wearing full plate armor and carried a large broadsword that looked like it would be capable of cutting straight through any surcoat. Magic trailed from the Elf¡¯s left hand, and Matt could hear wild laughter as the rider came at him.

    He leaned back and struck at him, trying not to let the left side swing unbalance him. The Winterknight blocked the blow, and for a moment, their weapons locked together. Matt kept pressing hard, knowing that if he let the rider free his sword, the Elf would have little trouble beating him a duel. Nelson and the icestag jockeyed for position, dancing and shoving at each other as their riders fought for dominance.

    Whistling crossbow bolts fell again, but this time they fell further back, nearer to where Elves were still struggling out of the water. Matt heard more screams, and when he glanced in that direction, the Winterknight twisted his sword and tried to thrust it into Matt¡¯s chest. Matt leaned to the side and grabbed at the blade, latching his gauntlet around the sword near the hilt. Then he brought his mace down as hard as he could on the Elf¡¯s head.

    The Winterknight toppled from his icestag, leaving Matt still holding the sword. He tossed it aside, breathing hard, and swung at another skirmisher leaping in from the side. His arms burned, and his breathing was coming in sharp, desperate gasps. Where were the Spears? How much longer did he need to¡ª

    He heard the double blast of a trumpet off to the left, followed by another to his right. He felt the press of Elves around him shift, as if they were trying to turn and get ready for something. Panic was spreading among the faces around him, and their stabbing, darting spears turned aside. He felt a wild, wide grin grow as his heart pounded in his chest.

    The shock of the infantry charge was clear all around him, followed quickly by a second one. It rippled through the ranks of the Elves, and suddenly, the enemy was pressing in again. This time, it was in milling panic, not fighting spirit. They started to fall back, letting the Wargs push in more easily. Captain Snolt was suddenly by his side, his face covered in blood and snarling. ¡°Stay back, sire! Stay back!¡±

    Matt nearly spurred Nelson forward again in pure spite, but the ache in his shoulder gave him pause. Wargs flowed around him, pulling down Elves and icestags alike. He saw the Orcs pushing in too, their spears stabbing and pushing in from both sides. It wouldn¡¯t be long now. The shock of the charges, the unexpected casualties, the river at their back¡ªit all had to take a toll. Standing on his stirrups, he could see the rear ranks of the Elves were standing at the water¡¯s edge already, unable to retreat much further without being swept into the river.

    Then finally, all at once, the enemy broke. Some of them turned and fled, pushing through their companions in an attempt to escape. Others threw down their spears and went to their knees, crying out for mercy. Those few who were still fighting found themselves abruptly cut off and alone, islands of resistance in an ocean of routing men.

    ¡°Give quarter! Take them prisoner!¡± He shouted as hard as he could above the clamor, hoping that he could be heard and would be obeyed. With their blood up, who knew if his soldiers would restrain themselves, especially if he had taken many casualties. Yet his plans needed captives, and if he didn¡¯t have any¡­ ¡°Give quarter!¡±

    He could sense his soldiers pause, and either discipline or his orders seemed to win out. Orcs reached out to pull Elves from their knees and shove them backward through the ranks, where they were out of the way. Goblins pulled hard on reins, keeping their mounts from continuing to rip throats and tear limbs. Winterknights were pulled from their icestags, their fine broadswords dropping to the dirt while their less exhausted companions ran for the ford.

    Not that flight was a wise course. The river was as much an enemy as his soldiers were. More than one Elf misjudged the position of the ford, falling into the water of the river itself and vanishing beneath the flow. Others pushed and shoved their fellows, occasionally dooming more of them to the water. Those who tried to be more careful found that the crossbows were still working; more crossbow bolts fell among them, striking some down and sending the rest fleeing in even greater panic. Matt guessed that maybe one in five reached the other side.

    Yet the majority of them seemed too tired to even try. Matt watched in triumph as well over a hundred Frost Elves surrendered, with at least four banner flags among them. Even if some had escaped, Itrelia¡¯s little army had been crippled, and their morale fatally broken. The two banners across the river were already withdrawing, running before the remnants of their friends even reached them. He wondered if they would even recover before they reached Itrelia¡¯s homeland.

    Captain Snolt loped up to him on his Warg, still bloodstained and fierce. The Goblin was panting almost as hard as his mount, but he grinned at Matt with a startling display of good humor. ¡°They¡¯re done, sire. It¡¯s over, and the day is yours. What are your orders?¡±

    Matt pulled himself together. He gripped his mace harder, hoping that it hid how his hand was shaking. Was that just adrenaline or fear? ¡°Get the wounded seen to. Ours first, but theirs as well. I want the prisoners disarmed and marching for the road as soon as the men are ready.¡± He looked over to the left and grinned a little as he saw a cluster of supply carts. Itrelia¡¯s men had brought their own fodder. He¡¯d see it put to good use. ¡°Bring those carts, as well. We¡¯ll have use for them.¡±

    The Captain nodded and then looked at him expectantly. Matt sighed. ¡°Tell them all they¡¯ve done well. We¡¯ve won!¡± He shouted the last, raising his mace. It hopefully didn¡¯t shake at all. ¡°Extra rations for everyone tonight! Thanks to our friends, we can certainly afford it!¡± Tired laughter echoed from all around, and Matt went on in a voice all could hear. ¡°All of you have earned a reward once I return to Redspire. Your valor today will not be forgotten! For Redspire! For the Kingdom!¡±

    Snolt joined him, his voice rising as well. ¡°For the Kingdom of Iron!¡±

    A victorious roar rose around him, and Matt found himself joining in. It had been a very good day.

    A very good start.

 B1Ch10: Heading East

    Six hours later, as the army settled into its camp¡ªonly a small distance from where Matt had told Tek he wanted to reach¡ªMatt looked around the camp table at the officers he had brought.

    They were a very different group this time. Snolt seemed to be invigorated somehow, as if the slaughter had dragged all the pessimism and discontent out of him. The other four captains also seemed buoyed by their victory, though they were all looking a little uncertain as to why he had summoned them for a meeting.

    There was a pair of new faces at the meeting, however, accompanied by grim faced guards from the Eighth Spears. Nikles was scowling at the Frost Elf prisoners, one of whom was a lieutenant from the Winterknights, and the other who had apparently been a skirmisher captain. The Elves were just as uncertain as the loyalists were, and fear shadowed their expressions as they watched the other inhabitants of the tent.

    Matt cleared his throat, and every eye shifted to him. ¡°First, I want to once again congratulate you all on our victory. With the defeat of the enemy, the supply lines to Greymouth are secure, and our own march will be unimpeded.¡±

    The Elves grimaced, and Snolt grinned. Captain Karve, however, sighed a little. ¡°Would that the battle had been bloodless, sire, but we do have wounded. The prisoners will slow us down as well.¡±

    He nodded. There had been well over a hundred Frost Elves taken prisoner, a mix of both Winterknights and their militia counterparts. Many of them had been wounded, and something close to two hundred more had been killed. There would probably never be any real estimate of how many went under the water, but there had to be many more. Itrelia was about to find herself missing quite a lot of men.

    Of course, his own troops had taken losses. There were nearly two dozen of his men buried amongst the traitors, and several dozen more were nursing aches, pains, and bandaged wounds. Such things were unavoidable, but he had to deal with them soon.

    ¡°You are right, Captain Karve. Fortunately, we can handle things by dividing ourselves. Some of us will accompany the prisoners and wounded to Redspire, while the remainder of us continues on to our objectives. Specifically, the Eighth Spears will go.¡± He glanced over at Nikles, who was doing a very poor job of hiding his disappointment.

    Creps raised an eyebrow. ¡°A dangerous strategy, my liege. If the enemy returns, they may be able to find us separated and easily killed.¡±

    Teplas snorted. ¡°As if that lot will stop running short of Winterfast. I doubt any of them will be ready to try the ford anytime soon.¡±

    ¡°True.¡± Bort turned his eyes on the captives, who were alternating between glaring at their enemies and trying to avoid their attention. ¡°Of course, perhaps we can make things a bit easier by simply killing these traitors.¡±

    Snolt laughed. ¡°That would save on supplies, at least.¡±

    ¡°No.¡± Matt saw them all look back at him, and he tapped the table in front of him. ¡°Killing the prisoners means that the next batch of Elves won¡¯t surrender. More of our men will die fighting people who have nothing left to lose. I won¡¯t spill our blood in the future just to save a little time now.¡± It was a true enough statement, though in some ways he was lying. Time was crucial now, and getting the chance to set out on his mission was important enough to risk his own life, let alone others.

    Still, the captains appeared to think his logic over. Karve nodded at last, and the Elves slumped a little in relief. ¡°I see your point, sire. Still, it bothers me that we need to delay our work.¡±

    ¡°Your actions will be just as crucial as the defense of Greymouth, Captain. Trust me.¡± Matt looked at the prisoners. The skirmisher captain shuddered a little as he smiled, though the Winterknight simply raised his chin. ¡°After all, we have treachery at home we must deal with as well.¡±

    The statement brought a sudden pause to the war tent, and the Frost Elves seemed to go a little paler than they already were. His captains were exchanging looks with each other, clearly mystified, though both Bort and Creps were looking worried. Matt turned his attention back to Snolt instead. ¡°Captain, do you remember the number of people who knew our route to Greymouth? Specifically, who knew it soon enough to be able to tell the traitors when they should cross the ford?¡±

    Snolt frowned. ¡°Not many, sire. We planned that pretty close to the mark, and even if someone in the ranks got the message out, they wouldn¡¯t have been able to get everyone into position. In fact, I¡¯d say the only ones who could do it were me and¡ª¡±

    The Captain stopped dead, and Matt chuckled at his stricken expression. ¡°Given your valor in the battle, Captain, I think we can strike you off the list.¡± Then he turned back to the Elves. ¡°Lord Tek, however, may have shown his hand. What was it exactly that he promised you? It was probably something that Itrelia didn¡¯t know about, or else she would have been here to collect my head herself. Tell me, and maybe I can find a little leniency for you.¡±

    To his complete lack of surprise, the Winterknight merely met his stare with an imperious look of his own. The skirmisher, however, was not so stubborn. ¡°It was a deal. We would take you captive and send you back to the city. He¡¯d dispose of you, and in the meantime, we could blockade the Greymouth, the way Lady Itrelia ordered.¡±

    ¡°Quiet, cur!¡± The Winterknight snarled at the other Elf, but the skirmisher snapped back at his nominal superior.

    ¡°Quiet yourself, lordling! If it weren¡¯t for you and your princess, we wouldn¡¯t be here!¡±

    ¡°I think that¡¯s enough from you both.¡± Matt let his voice grow cold enough to affect even them, and both prisoners stiffened. ¡°I would offer you parole, but as traitors, your word means little. Breaking one oath makes it so much easier to break the next, does it not?¡± He let the question hang in the air, and then he shook his head slowly. ¡°All the same, we gave you quarter, and I will honor it. The Eighth will escort you back to Redspire, where your officers will be kept in the Tower of Blood.¡± The previous rulers had been less than creative in naming Redspire¡¯s magic-proof prison, but the place had seemed secure enough. ¡°Your men will be quartered under guard in the old barracks. When the rebellion is over, your actions will be remembered and rewarded accordingly.¡±

    The Winterknight stiffened slightly at the start of the sentence, but the fight drained out of him as Matt continued. His skirmisher companion sunk down in on himself, simply looking defeated. At least, he did until Matt continued. ¡°At the very least, your cooperation will guarantee your lives. For your help and your obedience, I will not put any of you to the sword. Your continued cooperation will determine what I eventually do decide to do with you. Am I understood?¡±

    Both Elves murmured their understanding, and Matt nodded. He turned to Nikles, who was still watching him. ¡°Sergeant Nikles, I will ask you to escort these prisoners back to their men.¡± He paused. ¡°I am sorry to delay your reunion with your brother.¡±

    NIkles grinned. ¡°As long as he lives through this, my liege.¡± He bowed deeply and then gestured for his men to yank the Elves to their feet. The soldiers and prisoners left the tent together, leaving the captains alone.

    ¡°My liege, I knew nothing about any¡ª¡±

    ¡°Calm yourself, Captain Bort.¡± He raised a hand to stop the Imp from speaking. ¡°I don¡¯t believe that anyone here had any clue about Tek¡¯s plans. After all, he was willing to kill all of you, just to get to me. Am I wrong?¡±

    The question brought another pause, this time one that was full of a far more personal meaning. He could see them reliving the battle they had just fought, and what it would have meant to have those banners attack them by surprise on the road, instead of meeting them at the ford. Snolt¡¯s eyes were burning with growing anger as he looked up at Matt. ¡°He wasn¡¯t even just killing us, was he? Everyone at Greymouth, too.¡±

    Matt nodded. ¡°That¡¯s correct, Captain. Hundreds of us¡ªand the hundreds of his own sworn soldiers in the fortress garrison as well. How many lives would Tek sacrifice, just for a piece of power?¡±

    Teplas shrugged his shoulders uncomfortably. ¡°Your pardon, my liege, but that¡¯s not unusual for a lord.¡±

    ¡°And how quickly they say that, whenever they want you to spill your blood for their games!¡± Matt stabbed a finger back along the road. ¡°The fact that they do it so often does not make me feel any better about the men we lost today, or the men we would have lost. I expect more from myself. Why shouldn¡¯t we expect more from them?¡±

    The captains shifted, their eyes darting to each other. It was fairly obvious that Matt wasn¡¯t exactly saying things a king should say. Then again, they were probably thinking the same things. They¡¯d probably always been thinking it, but saying it out loud was another thing entirely.

    Karve was the first to speak up. ¡°My liege, what will you have us do?¡±

    The question was serious, in a way that caught Matt¡¯s attention. Karve¡¯s hand was on the hilt of his short sword, but not as if he meant to draw it for battle. It seemed almost like he was preparing to kneel, and the way the Orc¡¯s eyes had locked onto him made Matt want to cheer. At least one of the captains was his now, completely¡ªperhaps two, if there was more than bloodlust behind Snolt¡¯s enthusiasm.

    ¡°I want you to escort the prisoners back to the city. When you reach Redspire, send a messenger to Tek. Tell him to bring his three captains to speak with you about a tragedy that has befallen the king.¡±

    Snolt snorted, and the other captains exchanged grim looks of satisfaction. Karve simply nodded, and Matt continued. ¡°When he arrives in the camp, I want you to arrest them on suspicion of treason against the Kingdom. Dress them up like Frost Elves and hide them among the rest of the prisoners. They can join the officers in the Tower of Blood and wait there until I arrive.¡±

    Karve nodded slowly. ¡°Yes, my liege. And what of his banners?¡±

    ¡°Without their leader and their captains, they probably won¡¯t be ready to fight.¡± Matt shook his head. ¡°Most of them aren¡¯t going to be any more involved than we are, but at the same time, we can¡¯t risk an attempt to rescue the traitor. Gather the rest of the city garrison, along with whatever freeholder militia you can muster, and compel them to give up their arms and armor. When they surrender, you can take their oaths that they will not support Tek, and send them home. Any who don¡¯t swear, join him in the Tower.¡±

    ¡°Send them home?¡± Teplas sounded utterly mystified. ¡°The moment they reach the High Peaks, they¡¯ll be screaming about what we¡¯ve done. We¡¯ll be lucky if half the High Imps don¡¯t rebel.¡±

    ¡°With the Noble Races on their doorsteps, and Tek already in the Tower?¡± Matt shook his head. ¡°They won¡¯t move quickly enough, and the ones who would hurt us the most¡ªthe ones in the mountain garrisons¡ªare the ones he would have left to die. I suspect that we may get some protests, and perhaps they will petition for his release, but they won¡¯t rebel. At least not before I return to Redspire to deal with him myself.¡±

    Teplas looked around at the other captains, as if asking for their support, but the Imps were both avoiding his gaze. Matt suspected that both of them were going to be determined to prove their loyalty in the coming days, whatever reassurances he gave them. Snolt simply gave him a wry grin and then turned to Matt. ¡°While he is doing that, what will be our mission, my liege?¡±

    ¡°The Third Spears will continue on the road to Greymouth, along with the Fourth and Tenth Footmen. Captain Creps will have command of the reinforcements until you reach the fortress, at which point you will give my orders to Captain Morteth.¡±

    Both Teplas and Bort were frowning a little, perhaps wondering why Creps was being trusted with command, but the Captain of the Fourth merely tilted his head to one side. ¡°Sire? Will you not accompany us?¡±

    Matt shook his head. ¡°No. I and Captain Snolt will be taking the First on another mission.¡± Snolt started to chuckle; the Goblin almost sounded unhinged, but Matt ignored him and pressed on. ¡°When you reach the fort, tell Captain Morteth that he is to hold the fortress for as long as possible¡ªand that if he sees the opportunity, he should sally out and destroy the enemy camp.¡±

    Still frowning, Teplas blinked in surprise. ¡°Sally, my liege? The Noble Races are likely to have more than enough banners on hand to prevent such an attack.¡±

    The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.

    ¡°For now, yes.¡± Matt gave him a confident smile. ¡°Captain Snolt and I will be giving them something else to think about, so they may turn some of their soldiers back to try to deal with us. Tell him to watch for the opportunity and take it if he sees one. Otherwise, he is to wait for further orders. Understood?¡±

    The three Captains all nodded, and Matt turned to Snolt. ¡°Captain Snolt, we will be riding along a different path going forward. Make sure your riders take as many supplies as they can carry, while still moving quickly. We will leave the camp at dawn.¡±

    ¡°As ordered, my liege.¡±

    Matt took one last look around the table and smiled. ¡°Thank you again, for your loyalty and your bravery. Continue as we have, and we will keep our home safe. You are dismissed.¡±

    The following night was a difficult one, filled with weary nightmares about the battle. A hundred different disasters plagued him. Nelson stepped in a hole during the charge, flinging him down to be trampled; his soldiers panicked and ran rather than pressing the attack; an arrow found him just as the Elves were on the edge of a rout. As the night wore on, the dreams shifted to the future. He died surrounded by starving Wargs in a high mountain pass; enemy cavalry caught him on the open plains; he reached Greymouth to find the fortress burning and broken. Each time, he jerked awake, his legs kicking out and slamming down into his bedroll as he fought to stay standing. It was a wonder he got any sleep at all.

    When the morning came, the camp became a busy swarm of activity. Orcs, Imps and Goblins were packing up tents and tucking away supplies. Wounded were being loaded aboard the captured Elven supply wagons, and Frost Elves were being herded into lines following them by members of the Eighth. Matt caught sight of Nikles herding a reluctant group of Winterknights¡ªdisarmed and unarmored¡ªinto place. The Orc caught sight of him and saluted.

    Mat nodded and started making his own preparations. He was certain that Captain Snolt was going to be ready to leave on time, and he had no intention of holding things up by making the First wait for him. They would have a long way to travel, after all.

    Nelson continued to trot along beneath him as the column made its way along the road to Echo Pass.

    They¡¯d left the Old Crimson Road behind nearly six hours before, turning north and east rather than going south. From the maps he¡¯d studied, it would lead them into a seldom-used pass through the High Range, well north of Greymouth. It was supposedly a cluttered, narrow way, possibly choked by snow¡ªbut he bet it would be unguarded and unwatched, especially as the enemy gathered their forces to assault Greymouth. Who would expect the Kingdom to strike back when they were going to be desperate to defend themselves?

    The First Wargs loped along without any real sign that they¡¯d been in combat a mere day before. True, some of the Wargs and their riders bore wounds, but most of them seemed unaffected by their injuries. Either their morale was still high from their victory, or the prospect of going on a raid against the Noble Races was exciting enough to endure a little discomfort. One glance at Snolt¡¯s still-grinning face was enough to tell Matt he at least didn¡¯t have to worry about encouraging his men.

    ¡°So Captain, have you ever used Echo Pass before?¡±

    ¡°No, my liege. The pass was declared unusable ages ago. I don¡¯t think anyone has used it for at least five years. At least, not for any group larger than a scouting party.¡± Snolt seemed unbothered by the fact, though Matt felt a sense of foreboding. If the pass was blocked¡­ ¡°We still keep a guard post on our side of it, just to make sure that a batch of Knights can¡¯t slip through without us knowing about it, but we mostly don¡¯t bother. The pass is just normally too cold and too steep to worry about.¡±

    Matt tried to keep his voice clear of concern. ¡°Do you think we will have trouble using it?¡±

    ¡°No, my liege.¡± Snolt chuckled. ¡°A couple of my scouts have actually served on the Echo Watch. They were sent there in punishment for some¡­unfortunate indiscretions. They told me the pass is good enough for a well-trained Warg to get through, as long as we take our time, and our supplies are going to hold out just fine. It¡¯s a good thing we didn¡¯t bring any of those supply carts along, though. There¡¯s no way the wheels and aurochs could handle it.¡±

    Nodding, Matt felt himself relax a little. He¡¯d expected the road to be too rough to handle supplies, but it was good to hear the Wargs could manage it. ¡°I guess we¡¯ll have to make sure that our little visit is short and sweet, then, won¡¯t we?¡±

    ¡°Either that, or the Knights will just have to share some of their food with us. After all, they are all about hospitality.¡± Snolt laughed hard enough that his Warg glanced up and back at him. The Captain leaned over to soothe the beast with one hand. ¡°We should be fine, my liege. As long as we keep moving.¡±

    Matt nodded, though he felt a slow, creeping feeling of unease. He¡¯d conceived of the raid to relieve pressure on Greymouth, as well as a way to show the people of the Kingdom that he would fight on their behalf, but there was a fair bit of danger involved. If the enemy cut his banner off from escape, or if the Riders managed to eat their way through their limited supplies¡­.

    He shook away those worries. There would be time enough to deal with that later.

    Two days later, as the First Warg Riders struggled their way down the east side of Echo Pass, Matt wondered again if he had really made the right decision.

    Snolt had been right that the pass had remained mostly clear, but that hadn¡¯t meant the journey had been pleasant. The narrow, meandering passage had been half covered in snow and rocks, to the point where several Wargs had picked up a small collection of new injuries while they slipped and scrabbled over the terrain. Wind and a fresh flurry of snow had only worsened the conditions, chilling the entire army to the bone while they tried to keep to the pass and make their way through the mountains.

    Camping in the cold had been a highly unpleasant experience, and Matt was truly beginning to feel worn by the time the pass began to angle downwards once more. He hadn¡¯t been sleeping too well, either, despite how exhausted he felt every time they made camp. Too much more, and he wondered if he was going to need Snolt to tie him to Nelson¡¯s saddle.

    The Goblin captain called for a halt, and the column came to a halt. Snolt glanced over at him. ¡°We should probably rest here for a while, sire. Too much further and we might get too close to the watchpost that the Knights of Griffon built here. They must not keep close watch on the pass either, but it would only take one scout to catch us here.¡±

    Matt nodded numbly. He¡¯d known about the watchpost, but hadn¡¯t thought it was a problem either. ¡°How many men do we think they have stationed there?¡±

    ¡°Not more than twenty, not less than five.¡± Snolt shrugged. ¡°We could strike at it, but it wouldn¡¯t take long for them to build another one. Either way, they won¡¯t stop us once we are past them. They can send as many messengers as they like, then.¡±

    A thought forced its way through the haze in Matt¡¯s mind, and he paused while he tried to find the words to express it. It took a lot more effort and time than he liked. ¡°We have our scouts still fresh, right?¡±

    Snolt peered over at him. ¡°As fresh as we could be, coming over that pass.¡±

    Matt grunted. His backside was still feeling every jolt and slip from that trail. The scouts would hopefully be a little less weary than he was. ¡°Give them a few minutes to rest and then get them back on the trail ahead of us. I want them to wait between the watchpost and the nearest garrison for the Knights. Then we are going to move our camp close enough to get the watchpost¡¯s attention.¡±

    The Goblin grinned. ¡°At which point they¡¯ll send out their rider, and the scouts will take care of them.¡±

    ¡°I want the messenger captured, if we can.¡± Matt wavered a little on Nelson¡¯s saddle and then heaved himself off of the beast. The warbuck glanced at him with a careful eye and then gave a dismissive shake of the horns. ¡°That way, they can tell us where they were being sent.¡±

    ¡°And where the nearest reinforcements might come from?¡± Snolt thought it over, stroking his chin. He nodded and became all business once more. ¡°I¡¯ll have them out just as soon as their Wargs are ready, sire. How long should the rest of us stay?¡±

    ¡°Give it twenty minutes.¡± A twinge of pain shot up his spine, and Matt winced. ¡°Maybe twenty-five.¡±

    ¡°Aye, sire.¡± Snolt grinned a little, though he did try to hide it. Matt could easily see through that poor effort, though, and he was tempted to glare at the man. Fortunately, he suppressed it and pretended to be above such things. A ruler needed to show strength, even if his entire body seemed ready to crumble to dust at the moment. He took another step and this time the ache seemed to shoot from his right knee all the way to his left shoulder. One more day, he promised himself, one more day, and things would be worth it.

    A few hours later, as the Goblins and their Wargs clustered around the campfires, Matt watched as a disgruntled Knight in light armor was led into the camp by a pair of Warg-riding scouts. The scouts handed off their prisoner to two of their fellows, hopping off their mounts to take a rest by the fires. Their prisoner, however, was marched straight over to him, leaving his impatient, greatelk steed stomping and prancing nervously among the Wargs.

    Matt stood up from the fire as the prisoner drew near. ¡°Ah, our guest. Welcome to our fires.¡± A grim chuckle ran through the nearby Goblins, some of whom waved casually to the Knight in their midst. The rider swallowed a little nervously and raised their chin in an obvious attempt at bravery.

    ¡°You won¡¯t get away with this. No matter who you are, the Knights of the Griffon will hunt you down and destroy you.¡±

    ¡°Well, I expect that they will certainly try.¡± Matt kept his voice light, and gestured to the banner gathered around them. ¡°I don¡¯t know if they will be able to anytime soon, though. Not since the majority of them are probably up in the mountains at Greymouth.¡±

    The Knight winced slightly, and Matt felt a moment of sympathy for the young man. It was clear he didn¡¯t exactly expect to walk out of the camp alive, and Matt could see the reason for his suspicions. The history between the Kingdom and the Knights of Griffon was long, bloody, and filled with slaughter on both sides. That kind of history was not something people easily set aside.

    Then again, he wasn¡¯t interested in rehashing history. He needed to know where his enemies were, and what would be the best way to stop them. Anything else could wait.

    His guest for the evening had clenched his teeth, now. Maybe he was trying to keep them from chattering. ¡°There are more than enough of us left to see you dead, raider. What kind of Knight would turn on his people to help these filth?¡±

    Matt laughed a little. ¡°I¡¯m not a Knight, though I can see the resemblance. My name is King Matthew. Perhaps you¡¯ve heard of me?¡±

    He watched the Knight suddenly grow stiff. His eyes widened and ran over the camp a second time. This time he had to have noticed the banner of the First Wargs, set in the middle of the camp near a helpfully concealing tree. When his attention returned to Matt, his face had grown pale. ¡°You-you can¡¯t-you shouldn¡¯t¡ª¡±

    ¡°Be here? I know.¡± Matt made a dismissive gesture. ¡°To tell you the truth, I wouldn¡¯t have come at all, but it seems like your lords are intent on killing my people. There¡¯s only one way to deal with that.¡±

    The veiled threat made the Knight shake himself. His eyes grew firm again. ¡°You won¡¯t get away with this.¡±

    ¡°I suppose we¡¯ll see. Bring him.¡± Matt turned and led the way back to his tent, where he¡¯d set up a table with the best map he could find of the area. Captain Snolt was sitting next to it, chatting with some of the bannermen. ¡°Now I know that your friends in the watchpost will probably send another rider, but they won¡¯t realize they need to for the first few days. I¡¯d guess we have at least a week before we have to worry about anyone coming after us.¡±

    The Knight gave a contemptuous bark of laughter. ¡°You fool. The garrison at Eagleton will be after you in half that time. They¡¯ll track you down and gut you like a boar.¡±

    Matt tilted his head slightly. ¡°Interesting. I guess some of the animals are the same between our worlds.¡± He turned to Snolt. ¡°Do we know where Eagleton is?¡±

    Snolt nodded, putting his finger on the map. ¡°Right here, sire. Not more than a day and a half from here, at a good pace.¡±

    ¡°Sounds about right, then.¡± Matt turned back to the messenger, who was now looking horrified. ¡°Thank you for the information, good Knight. Do you have anything else that you wish to tell us?¡±

    The Knight swelled slightly. ¡°It won¡¯t even matter if you escape the garrison. Your people will die when Lord Hethwellow breaches the walls of your fortress at Greymouth. By the time you manage to drag your corpses back across the mountains, your entire Kingdom will be awash in blood and fire.¡±

    It was a bit harder to keep smiling in the face of that kind of threat, but Matt managed it. ¡°I see. So the main force is probably already up in the mountains. Good.¡± He stepped over to the map, peering over it. ¡°I was a bit worried that we had come too soon, but I¡¯m glad to hear that he¡¯s already up there, instead of wandering around down here.¡±

    He heard the Knight hiss in anger and frustration, but ignored him. In truth, he¡¯d already guessed at half the information he¡¯d heard from the man anyway, but he needed to put on a decent show. Especially for the next part.

    Matt spread his hands over the map, running over the territory to the east of Echo Pass. Eagleton was close enough for a quick raid, but there were at least four other villages he could hit before the garrison came out after him. It was a tempting offer, but he doubted that Hethwellow would be bothered much by a few burning peasant barns.

    ¡°Well, I¡¯m sure the garrison won¡¯t mind when we pay them a visit. After we destroy a few villages as a distraction, to lure some of them away, of course.¡± He looked up and nodded to the guards. ¡°Escort our guest to where we will be holding him for the night. My thanks, sir Knight.¡±

    The Knight was still spluttering as the guards led him away. Snolt stayed behind, watching as they went. He looked back at Matt with a grin. ¡°You are still sure about this, sire?¡±

    ¡°Yes. Make sure that they ¡®let¡¯ him escape before the end of the night.¡± Matt stretched a bit, popping the joints in his spine. ¡°He won¡¯t have a mount, so it will take him a while to reach the watchpost. Once he does, they¡¯ll send a new messenger or two to warn the garrison that we are planning to attack them at Eagleton. That will keep them where they are, instead of chasing us.¡±

    Snolt frowned. ¡°But wouldn¡¯t it be nice to take that garrison by surprise? We could do to them what we did to the Frost Elves.¡±

    ¡°Unlikely.¡± Matt shook his head. ¡°They are a garrison, so they are behind walls and fortifications. They¡¯ve got sentries up to keep us from getting close, and the towns around them will send warning even if we could sneak most of the way there. By the time we charged, we¡¯d be facing almost three banners of infantry on our own, along with at least two more of cavalry.¡±

    The Goblin captain grimaced. ¡°Not the best situation, to be sure.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s that much better that we convince them to stay holed up in their little fort, worrying about us ambushing them. That way, we can tend to our true objective.¡± Ignoring the northern villages, Matt traced a path along the map that led south. He cut across the roads leading to the eastern side of Greymouth. ¡°Hethwellow¡¯s supply trains have to be moving through these roads. If we can catch enough of them, his forces will be left without food or fresh water. They¡¯ll starve.¡±

    Snolt nodded. ¡°Hard to lay siege to a fortress in that situation. You really think they will pull back?¡±

    ¡°If they don¡¯t, we¡¯ll just keep feeding off of their countryside until they do. Or until someone else tries to stop us.¡± Matt smiled grimly. ¡°Make no mistake, we¡¯re going to have to be fast and clever, but if we do this right, then the Noble Races will be eating their own saddles before winter even starts.¡± Which meant that the Kingdom would survive another season, unless the enemy found a way to have steady supply lines through a mountain pass in the winter. Possible, maybe, but he didn¡¯t expect someone like Hethwellow to have planned that far ahead.

    Time would tell, of course. The raid had only begun.

 B1Ch11: Hit Them Where It Hurts

    They found the first supply train a day later, nearly twenty leagues south of the place they had camped the night before.

    The Knight they had captured had left only hours before, managing to cut his ropes thanks to an ¡®accidentally¡¯ dropped knife. His false warning was likely sill on its way to Eagleton, but Matt wasn¡¯t planning on waiting to make sure. Sometimes, a man just had to trust that Fortune wouldn¡¯t turn entirely against him.

    To his gratitude, it seemed like Fortune was watching out for him again. The carts that traveling along the dusty road west were heavily loaded down with weapons, food, and clothing. There were guards, but they had spread out along the entire column, many of them trotting along on zephyrs¡ªsome kind of striped version of a horse¡ªwhile others tromped along on foot. He couldn¡¯t see any actual banners, so he guessed they were either some irregulars grouped together, or that they were part of a banner that had been broken up to provide an escort against the occasional bandit.

    Whatever the guards¡¯ purpose had been, stopping an entire banner of Warg riders wasn¡¯t within their grasp.

    Matt had waited until the column had entered a copse of trees, sending a couple of scouts to chop down a tree across the road ahead of them. As the front of the column came to a stop, he led the First out of the hills behind them to hit the rearguard. This time, he kept Nelson a little back from the front, letting some of the Warg riders charge ahead of him. They were more than eager now, seeing carts full of plunder and a gormless set of guards meandering around.

    The enemy scattered almost immediately, with half of them turning to run before the First even made contact. Matt saw some even throwing off armor and tossing aside weapons as they fled, clearly hoping that by lightening their load they could escape.

    In the end, some of them did, fleeing headlong into the hills. Snolt hadn¡¯t been happy to let them go, but Matt knew it wasn¡¯t worth the time or effort to hunt them down. Scattering them was good enough for what he wanted, and even with the escapees, there were still dozens of the enemy down or surrendered in minutes.

    He led Nelson along the column, feeling a little refreshed as he looked over the carts. Some of the Goblins were already busy picking over the loot. He saw at least one squabble start, but the bickering Warg riders looked over at him and abruptly stopped. Matt grinned. At least he seemed to have some semblance of authority among them.

    Snolt rejoined him a moment later, his grin wide enough that it nearly seemed to split his face. ¡°Found an officer, sire.¡±

    He glanced back as a pair of Goblins forced a Knight forward, a woman whose armor was dirty and streaked with blood. She was wounded, still bleeding from a slash on her side, though she glared up at him defiantly. ¡°You will not get away with this, fiend. You and your raiders will suffer for what you have done.¡±

    Matt brought Nelson to a stop. ¡°Are you able to surrender the rest of the troops here, Knight?¡±

    She blinked. Her fists clenched, and for an instant he thought she would refuse. Then her shoulders slumped. ¡°Yes. For all the good it will do.¡±

    ¡°Good.¡± He looked at Snolt. ¡°Get all of them together and disarm them. See that anyone who is wounded gets at least a bandage. We¡¯ll clear one of their carts if they need it to transport the ones that are worse off.¡±

    Snolt blinked and then reamed out an ear for a second. ¡°Sire?¡±

    ¡°Tell the men to take what food and other supplies they can, and then to find torches. We¡¯ll set the carts alight and then move on once we¡¯re sure they¡¯ve burned. We have a lot of ground to cover, and this will only be the start.¡±

    The Goblin captain seemed about to protest¡ªhe likely had expected something in the way of plunder¡ªbut Matt shook his head slightly. Snolt glanced at the Knight, and nodded. ¡°Yes, sire.¡±

    Matt turned back to the Knight as Snolt led his Warg away, already shouting orders. ¡°I regret that we cannot leave you armed, sir Knight, and we also cannot afford to escort you home. It would be too slow, you see.¡± She stiffened slightly, and he could see her making the calculations about what the words meant. It was likely that she was expecting butchery, so he knew the surprise in her eyes was genuine as he continued. ¡°If you will all swear to stay out of the war against us for at least a year, then I will parole you back to your home. This means that you are not to fight against any of my people during that time, no matter where you find us. If you do so, then I will kill you, surrender or no surrender. Am I understood?¡±

    The Knight¡¯s jaw worked for a moment. Her too-large eyes were clouded with confusion. ¡°I¡ªyes, but¡ª¡±

    Matt ignored her and continued. ¡°Your oath, lady Knight. I must have it, from you and all your men.¡±

    She straightened up again, a bit of anger coming into her face. ¡°Why are you doing this? Why not just kill us and be done?¡±

    ¡°I will, if I must.¡± He let those words hang in the air, and then continued. ¡°But I never wanted this war in the first place. It is your leaders attacking my Kingdom, not the other way around. If I can convince you to keep to your own lands by sparing a few of you, then I would do so gladly.¡±

    He saw incredulity and contempt gathering in her eyes, and he continued in a hard voice. ¡°Of course, if that fails, I will kill and burn all of you, to the last banner. Now do I have your oath, or will you and your men be buried here?¡±

    An hour later, the First rode east. Behind them, a column of smoke was rising from beneath the trees. By the time they had ridden out, every single one of those carts had been burning merrily; even if the paroled Knights tried to salvage something from them, all they would get was smoke inhalation and ashes.

    Beside him, Captain Snolt was still sulking. When he caught Matt glancing at him, the Goblin shrugged. ¡°It was a good supply train, sire. The men would have normally expected plenty of loot to take there.¡±

    ¡°They will have plenty of chances, Captain.¡± Matt gave him a conciliatory gesture. ¡°Besides, that was only the first one. I plan on hitting plenty more than just that in the coming days, and if we take too much from all of them, our Wargs would be trying to waddle into battle beneath the saddlebags.¡±

    He¡¯d said it loud enough for the closest riders to catch it, and he heard a few muffled chuckles. That was good; soldiers used to plunder were not good traveling companions, especially far from home. There had been more than one Roman Emperor pulled down by his own men when he disappointed them in their expectations.

    As if to underscore his worries, Snolt sighed and continued. ¡°Still, sire, all that gold¡­¡±

    ¡°There¡¯s plenty of gold waiting for us back in Redspire. For the carts, and for the battle at the River Crimson.¡± Matt kept his voice just loud enough for the eavesdroppers around him. ¡°If we take three more of those, I¡¯ll give every man an extra mark. Six more, and I¡¯ll double it. What¡¯s more, you¡¯ll have the fame of being the Royal First, the Warg Riders that brought the entire army of the Noble Races to a halt with a single banner. How do you think they would receive you back at the city?¡±

    Snolt grinned. ¡°I suppose I could think of a woman that would be rightly impressed.¡±

    ¡°Well, if you want to see that, then trust me on this. We move fast, take only what we need, and we burn every cart they can drive our way.¡± Matt forced a little extra confidence into his voice, knowing that every word was going to count. ¡°Stay true to me, boys, and we¡¯ll leave them a lesson that none of these fools will ever forget!¡±

    The next two days became something of a blur.

    They found another supply train only two hours later, with similar results. The guards scattered in fear, while those who stood still fought for a while, and then surrendered in despair. Their captain was a grim, greying man; Matt thought the Knight¡¯s eyes might have been about to fall out of his skull when he heard the terms of parole. Again, they left the carts burning, and this time, there was far more excitement among the riders around him. Matt even thought he heard some of the scouts placing wagers among themselves on who would find the next target.

    The pattern repeated for the next three caravans, all scattered across the roads heading to Greymouth. Each time, his troops left the supplies burning, while the escorts ran for the hills, or slouched east with no arms and armor, under oath to avoid battle with the Kingdom. It was everything that Matt could have hoped for, to the point that he wondered aloud if the whole thing was some kind of trap.

    ¡°Trap, sire? No, I don¡¯t think so.¡± Snolt shook his head. ¡°I can¡¯t think of a single thing they would gain by leaving these wagons out for us to burn. Not even just setting you up for the fall, if I¡¯m honest.¡±

    Matt gave him a crooked grin. They were riding away from the fifth destroyed convoy, the smoke still reaching for the skies. ¡°That¡¯s comforting, I suppose. Why do you say that?¡±

    ¡°Judging by the number of carts, I¡¯d say that they went up to Greymouth only partially prepared. Maybe they wanted to catch the fortress by surprise, but more likely they were counting on being able to support their troops before their food started to run low.¡± Snolt gestured to the smoke still stretching towards the sky. ¡°So they got the men marching with the bare minimum of supplies, and put together these convoys to try to make up for the lack of preparation.¡±

    The author''s narrative has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

    The full impact of that statement dawned on Matt as they continued to ride away. ¡°You¡¯re saying that they just got the soldiers moving, and didn¡¯t worry about having them take supplies with them? Because they were just going to ship things to them as they were needed?¡± The Goblin laughed and nodded, and Matt turned his attention to the road ahead, his mind whirling.

    He¡¯d expected to inconvenience the forces around Greymouth¡ªthat was the whole point of the campaign after all¡ªbut he''d also expected it to take quite a lot of time before he made any real dent in their supply chain. His banner of Warg riders had set out from Redspire with wagons of supplies, and when they had broken off, each rider had taken enough food and other supplies for at least ten days of travel. It had been a ridiculous level of risk, given that if those supplies had run short, he and the riders would have been starving to death within the next two weeks. If Hethwellow hadn¡¯t even managed to plan that far ahead¡­

    ¡°Captain Snolt, how many banners did that last Knight say were up around Greymouth? Was it fifteen or sixteen?¡±

    ¡°Sixteen at least, sire. Though I¡¯d place my bets on it being even higher than that.¡± Snolt chuckled again. ¡°Those carts were loaded with plenty of fodder and food. Enough to keep at least twenty banners fed for at least a few days. Given how many of those they were sending, I¡¯d say they took maybe a handful of days¡¯ supply with them, and were hoping the carts would catch up to them after.¡±

    The math checked out, more or less, especially since some of the Knights had mentioned other members of the Noble Races already joining the fight at Greymouth. Some of them might have prepared better than others, but unless a lot of wagons had already passed them by, the entire siege force was going to have to ration their food before the week was out. What had been a desperate plan¡ªcombined with a petty desire to make Hethwellow look like the fool he definitely was¡ªhad suddenly turned into a very viable strategy for beating back the entire invasion from the east.

    Matt nodded to himself and then glanced back at Snolt. ¡°Well, then let¡¯s make sure none of those convoys slip past us, shall we? I wouldn¡¯t want the men to miss out on their rewards.¡±

    The riders of the First raised a ragged cheer, and they continued to ride east and south along the roads, with the scouts still watching for their next target.

    Unfortunately, by the start of the third day, it was clear that the enemy had caught on to the situation.

    ¡°They turned back?¡± Matt couldn¡¯t keep the surprise from his tone. The Goblin scout grimaced and nodded.

    ¡°Yes, sire. The grooves in the road show a lot of carts pulling off to the side and reversing course. They were all going back the way they came.¡±

    Snolt¡¯s face had turned grim. Matt could read a bit of frustration in the captain¡¯s eyes. ¡°They must have caught on. Seen the smoke, or maybe run into some of those paroled Knights.¡± He glanced at Matt and shrugged. ¡°I guess it was never going to last forever. If they are turning back, it means they are going to wait for heavier reinforcements before trying to push on to Greymouth. We¡¯ll be looking at two to three banners per set of carts, and they¡¯ll be watching for Wargs in the shadows the whole way.¡±

    Matt turned back to the map. He was holding it unfolded against Nelson¡¯s saddle, thinking through the problem. His own banner did not have unlimited supplies, and it was only a matter of time before the Knights started to close in on him. The enemy¡¯s supply situation might be as desperate as Snolt suggested, but that didn¡¯t mean he could afford to throw his men away if they got caught, and he couldn¡¯t afford to wait for the convoys to get sloppy again, either.

    Which meant the fun of burning supply carts wouldn¡¯t happen anymore. It was time to move to the next stage of the plan. He took a deep breath. ¡°Okay. They are going to keep pulling back until they get reinforcements. That works to our advantage; the further away we can keep them from Greymouth, the longer the enemy army starves, and the longer our troops can hold out. It¡¯s going to tie up more of their troops to escort the convoys, and they¡¯ll go slower too. All of that helps.¡±

    He folded up the map. ¡°What we need to do now is push them even further back, and make sure they can¡¯t resupply. They¡¯ll still probably be able to run, for now, but I want them running east rather than west. So here is what we are going to do¡­¡±

    The village was a small one, barely worth the name. The Order of the Griffon had established it only a century or so ago, despite the continued aggression between the Knights and the Kingdom. They had weathered dozens of raids over the years, and the farmers¡¯ militia was more than capable of calling together the people to defend them against whatever handful of Impish bandits had attacked.

    They weren¡¯t ready for an entire banner of Warg Riders, however. Snolt led his cavalry in a charge that scattered the farmers, driving them back to the hastily fortified town hall. Then the Riders roamed through the town, harassing those few stragglers until the peasants were all gathered together in one spot.

    Matt arrived in the village square not long after. He could see the signs of heavy carts dug deep into the dirt of the roads. One of the missing convoys had been here, and had just as clearly run for it the moment they¡¯d seen the first sign of his banner.

    He shook his head over the retreating Knights and then turned his attention back to the town hall. Snolt was waiting for him there, with a handful of Riders on panting Wargs. ¡°Captain?¡±

    ¡°They ran for it, just like you said. A few put up a bit of a fight, but well¡­¡± Snolt shrugged. Matt hadn¡¯t expected the captain to be upset over a few Knight peasants, but his stomach still twisted a little.

    ¡°You didn¡¯t ride down the rest, right?¡±

    ¡°No, sire.¡± Snolt¡¯s expression twisted in distaste. ¡°I still say you¡¯re being too light on ¡®em, sire. They wouldn¡¯t hesitate to butcher a whole clan if they had the chance.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re thinking of their lords, Snolt. These are just farmers. The only thing they butcher are cattle.¡± Matt looked back at the town hall. ¡°Besides, we have a better use for them than slaughter.¡±

    Snolt shrugged, and although the other Goblins still looked disgruntled, they didn¡¯t openly protest. Matt ignored them and urged Nelson forward. There was no guarantee that a farmer might not try for a lucky bowshot, but he doubted it. More likely they were trembling in fear, hoping against hope that the raid would finish when the Goblins had carried everything else off. It would be enough for them if they would still have the lives of their families by the end of the day.

    Hopefully, they would.

    Matt led Nelson up towards the building. It was a simple structure, built from wood and left without ornamentation. It was clear that the place had been constructed with raids in mind; the walls were thick, and the tower had openings where he could see archers peeking out. The doors were heavy and bolted shut. All in all, it looked almost as much like a small castle keep as it did a gathering place for peasants.

    He brought Nelson to a stop before the doors and looked up. ¡°You in there! I wish to speak with whoever is in charge of this place.¡±

    There was a pause. Then someone shouted back at him, a voice that was high and thin from fear. ¡°And who are you? Why have you brought those monsters to our home? What do you want?¡±

    ¡°I am King Matthew, of the Kingdom of Iron.¡± He let that answer ring in their ears for a moment before he continued. ¡°I want to know if you intend to surrender, or if I will need to burn you out.¡±

    The statement provoked another pause, though this one was hardly silent. Matt could hear the muffled argument in the tower, though the words were still too indistinct to make out completely. Then another voice cut across the bickerers, and Matt smiled a little as he identified the gruff authority behind it. A moment later, he heard someone yell out in a strong, deep voice.

    ¡°My name is Goodman Tarls. I am the mayor of Genfeld Oaks. What do you want?¡±

    ¡°I want your immediate surrender.¡± Matt gestured to the Warg Rider that waited a bit further out of bowshot. ¡°My men are ready to set that hall on fire, and you¡¯ll all burn to death inside it. I don¡¯t want that for you, though. We¡¯ve already seen killing enough.¡±

    The voice took on a bitter sort of anger, one that knew it was helpless to fight, but resented the world too much to just give in. ¡°So you¡¯ll take us as slaves, will you? We¡¯ll live, but in chains under your rule?¡±

    ¡°I have no use for slaves, Goodman Tarls.¡± Matt looked around the village. ¡°Do you know where your defenders are, Goodman? Where are the Knights of the Griffon?¡±

    There was silence at the question, so Matt answered it, letting his voice grow hard. ¡°They aren¡¯t here to protect you because they march on my people, Goodman Tarls. They brought war to my Kingdom, even though I wanted peace. I warned them, when they threatened me, that they would regret it. That they would see blood and fire for their reward.¡±

    There was another silence, and the mayor spoke up again. ¡°We had nothing to do with that, King Matthew. We are only farmers.¡±

    ¡°I know, Goodman Tarls. I know.¡± Matt sighed. ¡°But I cannot allow your village to continue to provide my enemies with food. To give them a safe place for their supply carts and a spot to sleep on their way to burn my home.¡± He looked down and adjusted Nelson¡¯s reins. ¡°If you surrender, I will let you go. Each of you will be allowed all the clothing and food you can carry on your backs, and any personal items as well. Those who stay will burn, along with all the fields, granaries, barns, and carts. We¡¯re even going to sully the well, though it shames me to do it. Do you understand, Goodman Tarls?¡±

    There was a long quiet. When Tarls spoke, his voice shook. ¡°Yes, King Matthew. We understand.¡±

    ¡°I will give you half an hour to decide. We cannot wait any more time.¡± Matt turned Nelson around. Then he paused, looking back. ¡°Good fortune to you, Goodman Tarls.¡±

    There was no answer. He hadn¡¯t expected one. After all, there was only one thing any of them could really say.

    Within the hour, the people of Genfeld Oaks were on the road leading east. Behind them, the village burned, while the Warg Riders of the Royal First sped further into the night.

    Genfeld Oaks was only the first.

    Over the next four days, Matt ordered his banner to put six more villages to the torch. Most of them were surrendered the same way that Genfeld Oaks had been. Trepford, Nem¡¯s Hall, Cubborston, and Silfeld all fell so easily that some of the riders began to grumble it wasn¡¯t even a fun challenge anymore.

    At Tresfeld Downs, most of the villagers surrendered and left, but there remained a group of stubborn defenders in their fortified hall. Matt ordered it burned anyway, and those inside died as they tried to escape the smoke. He tried not to think about the screams, but they troubled his dreams the next night.

    It was at Erbel¡¯s Ridge where things became truly interesting. When they arrived, the First found that a pair of convoys had stayed too long in the town. A disorganized banner of caravan guards tried to put up a resistance, but combined with the panicking townspeople and the fact that the guards were scattered throughout the village, they fared little better than the other caravans had. Matt managed to ride in on them himself, this time, his mace flashing out to knock an officer from their greatelk. In the end, the defenders fled, and those few villagers left surrendered, just as the other had. Both carts and homes burned as the First once again vanished into the night.

    They did so just in time. His scouts reported that a banner of mounted Knights rode into the burning ruin of Erbel¡¯s Ridge only an hour later. Apparently, the Knights spent some time trying to extinguish the flames, but the fire had already destroyed the supplies. The scouts had left before seeing if the Knights had managed to prevent the town hall from burning all the way to the ground.

    At that point, however, Matt knew it was over. Had the guards been any more organized, they might have fought hard enough for reinforcements to come. The First had managed to put the caravan guards to flight, but if that banner of Knights had ridden in while his men were busy destroying the town¡­

    His raiding party was running out of time, and the Knights were hunting them. If he didn¡¯t break off now, somebody on the other side was going to get lucky. It was time to go.

 B1Ch12: Hit and Run

    The news was surprisingly well received.

    Snolt grinned widely. ¡°You¡¯ve led us on a grand raid, my liege. If there hasn¡¯t been as much plunder as before, at the very least you¡¯ve been keeping us alive, and driving the Knights away from our borders. At this rate, those carts won¡¯t get near Greymouth for another week or more!¡±

    Matt nodded. He didn¡¯t know if that would be long enough to break up the siege, but at the very least it would keep things from going too badly before winter set in. ¡°The question now is going to be how we return home. Obviously, we aren¡¯t going to be able to get through Greymouth.¡±

    One of the bannermen chuckled. ¡°Aye, sire, but they won¡¯t be going that way either, will they?¡±

    He smirked a little. ¡°True. Which begs the question of how we get home. We can run back north, past Echo Pass, but I worry that the garrison at Eagleton might be out hunting us by now. They¡¯ve got to know that we have no intention of striking there. Our other options might be to ride south, past Rideston¡¯s Gap, but there¡ª¡±

    ¡°Why not?¡±

    The question brought Matt to a stop. He looked over at the Goblin bannerman¡ªDvel, he thought the name was¡ªwho seemed to be so absorbed in the map that he didn¡¯t realize he¡¯d spoken. Matt waited for a moment and then responded. ¡°What do you mean?¡±

    Dvel looked up in surprise and then flushed a reddish orange. ¡°Your pardon, my liege, I didn¡¯t mean to¡ª¡±

    Matt waved the apology aside. ¡°Never mind that, Dvel. Just tell me what you are thinking.¡±

    The Goblin paused, looking at Snolt for confirmation. His Captain merely grinned and gestured to the map, as if to say that the bannerman could get himself out of the hole on his own. Dvel sighed. ¡°I was just thinking, why don¡¯t we go after Eagleton? They¡¯ve got some of their forces out hunting us, right? It has to be a good number of their troops, otherwise they wouldn¡¯t expect to be able to kill us or stop our raids. How much will they have left to guard the fort?¡±

    It was a good question. Matt looked down at the map, thinking hard. The last information he¡¯d had¡ªtaken from a surrendered officer on a caravan they¡¯d burned five days ago¡ªhad claimed that Eagleton had nearly five banners of troops to call on. If that was true, then they could hold out against anything that he could hit them with. Worse, if they had enough cavalry, they could chase him down and destroy the First completely after the attack failed.

    How much would still be at the fort, though? They would have held their position the first few days, worried about being drawn out and destroyed. Then, as the reports of burning villages and ambushed supply carts came in, they would have started to worry about something else entirely. He pictured their commanders debating the problem, arguing as more and more reports of destroyed convoys trickled in, until finally, their troops marched out to hunt down the invaders. The ones left behind would be the ones who had lost the argument, the ones who hadn¡¯t wanted to fight.

    Matt tapped the symbol on the map that represented the fort. It was barely a day¡¯s ride away, though he had no doubt the journey would take longer with the need to remain concealed. ¡°You¡¯re right. We go there immediately.¡±

    Two days later, as the nightbirds chirped and bats struck insects from the air, Matt stared across the gap between the trees and the fort of Eagleton.

    It was a simple structure, one that wouldn¡¯t have impressed anyone with any concept of skyscrapers or stadiums. The Knights had built it in the motte and bailey style, with a palisade of logs surrounding a small town, and a wooden tower to make up the keep. He could make out the gates, and to his shock, they stood open. Farmer¡¯s carts had apparently been going in and out of them hours before, when the sun was setting. A pair of sentries were standing in the open entrance, but one of them was leaning up against a side of the gate and seemed to be sleeping. The other paid more attention to the distant light of the campfires inside than he did the surrounding forest.

    Not that Matt could really blame them. The First had needed to dodge several banners of searching Knights on their way back north. He had eventually resorted to moving at night to avoid notice, relying on the superior eyesight and agility of the Wargs to see the banner through. Fortunately, the Knights¡¯ scouts had failed to locate him and his men, and now they were finally right where they meant to be.

    Dvel, the bannerman that had suggested the plan in the first place, came creeping through the underbrush towards him. Matt nodded to him, and the Goblin spoke in a low voice. ¡°Captain Snolt says that his men are already at the north wall. They can be over it in a minute or two.¡±

    Matt grunted. There had always been a risk that the Knights would hole up in the keep, but if Snolt¡¯s men could move fast enough, it would be over before the defenders had the chance. ¡°Tell him to get moving. I¡¯m going to lead the charge in the next hour.¡±

    The bannerman nodded and then disappeared back into the night. Matt suppressed a shiver. The Goblins apparently had fairly good night vision themselves, though they hadn¡¯t made it too obvious. At least, they hadn¡¯t snickered too loudly during all the times when their supposed king had nearly tripped over his own feet in the dark. At least Nelson appeared to be more surefooted, though the warbuck hadn¡¯t been any happier about the nighttime rides.

    Matt remained where he was for another few minutes, counting the seconds as best he could. Not for the first time, he wished he had the phone he¡¯d left back at home. He was about six or seven generations removed from having the skills to tell time by the stars, and in any case, the moon and stars were all wrong here. The way they tracked across the night sky was odd, and he was still a long way from recognizing any of the local constellations.

    All the same, he figured that enough time had passed. He fumbled his way over to Nelson and then swung himself up into the saddle. Around him in the forest, about half the Royal First joined him, pulling themselves onto their Wargs and readying their blades. None of them spoke or drew their weapons; all of them knew that the slightest whisper or flash of steel might close the gates ahead of them before they could reach them.

    Matt fixed his gaze on that entrance. The guards were still lounging without any sign of alarm. It wouldn¡¯t be a patient trot before a charge this time. Nelson and the Wargs didn¡¯t need to have the energy for the shock of the battleline. They just needed to reach the gate while it was open, and then carry their riders into the town beyond.

    He hefted his mace and then gestured with it. In case the rest of the banner missed the signal, he started forward, letting Nelson pick his way out of the undergrowth and into the open. All around him, he heard the Wargs move through the brush, their paws swishing through the brush and snapping sticks underfoot. Matt winced, but he knew that stealth wasn¡¯t going to matter for very much longer.

    The moment he was clear of the woods, he spurred Nelson into a gallop. His mount snorted and tossed his head in protest, but Nelson obeyed, and his thick hooves began pounding across the open ground. Still silent, the Wargs streamed across that same ground on all sides, closing in on the gates like a wolf pack chasing a wounded deer.

    Ahead of them, the guards suddenly seemed to come awake. Shock froze them for a moment¡ªone of them actually dropped his spear, before frantically trying to fumble it back into his hands. Then they were shouting, with one running back into the fort and the other lurching up, his recovered weapon pointed aimlessly into the dark.

    Matt let Nelson body check the guard, sending the Knight flying. Their magically reinforced body didn¡¯t seem to fare any better than a Frost Elf would have, though Matt could hardly blame them. He certainly wouldn¡¯t have survived a hit like that. The other guard made it a few paces more before a Warg pinned him to the ground. By the time the fort had started to come alive, the banner was already inside, and herding them back towards the keep.

    Some of them might have hoped for salvation there, but as torches sprang to life around the fort, the light revealed that it was already too late. Captain Snolt and his infiltrators waved at them from the keep¡¯s wide-open gates, and dozens of Knights in their shirtsleeves were being escorted out at sword and knifepoint. As quickly as the alarm had been raised, it quieted, with the last few holdouts being surrounded and forced to yield.

    Matt trotted Nelson up to where Snolt was standing. ¡°Well done, Captain! Did you run into any trouble?¡±

    ¡°Not at all, sire.¡± Snolt gestured to the surrendered Knights. ¡°They only left half a banner of men here to watch the fort while the rest chased after us. The other half of them are actually out patrolling the forest right now; we probably crept right past them on the way in.¡±

    The scouts had reported a smaller camp a few leagues back. Matt nodded, another plan already forming. ¡°Disarm them all and take charge of their mounts. Anyone here is now our prisoner, and will remain so for a time.¡±

    Snolt raised his eyebrows. ¡°No parole this time, sire?¡±

    ¡°This time, no.¡± Matt gave him a grin. ¡°This time, we¡¯ll need the help to bring things back home. Loot everything that isn¡¯t nailed down, and take every animal, weapon, and piece of supplies you can. When we burn this place, let¡¯s leave it empty.¡±

    The First cheered again, this time a brutal roar that made their new prisoners flinch. They fell to tearing through the fort, looking for every scrap of treasure they could find. Matt watched them for a long moment, before turning back to Snolt, who had remained at his side. ¡°It looks like this will be the end to our campaign. Do you feel we did enough, Captain?¡±

    ¡°If we didn¡¯t, I don¡¯t know how any being could do more, sire.¡± The captain looked around. ¡°Capturing, looting, and burning a fort to the ground might make a fitting end to things, though. I¡¯d say I would be content.¡±

    ¡°Well, I¡¯m not.¡± Matt grinned a little. ¡°I guess I want just a little more out of our little adventure here.¡± He watched the looting progress, and then nodded. ¡°Once they get everything loaded up, I want the best two-thirds of the banner to form up and ride with me. The third that¡¯s left can stay with the prisoners and keep them honest. We have one more bit of business to take care of before we ride west.¡±

    Smoke rose over Eagleton as dawn arrived.

    The fort was burning. Matt had ordered it to be turned into a pyre for the ambitions of the Order of Griffons, and the Royal First had worked hard to make that a reality. He didn¡¯t know if the Knights would take the time and effort to rebuild the place, but he definitely wasn¡¯t planning on leaving them much to work with. With the fires lit, the prisoners and the part of the banner he¡¯d left behind would start moving west through the forest, staying well off the main road.

    Matt, on the other hand, was crouched in the same forest on one side of that road, with the rest of the banner. He¡¯d convinced Snolt to stay with the prisoners, despite the man¡¯s grumbling. The Goblin captain was a reliable officer, and Matt knew he would need someone to keep the train of captives moving west at a decent pace. They had gone to too much trouble to capture that group of Knights for a bunch of overeager Warg riders to just end up feeding the lot of them to their mounts.

    Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

    He heard hooves pounding on the road and looked around at his men. They tensed up, and he waved them back. The last thing he wanted was for someone to charge early. Surprise was going to be key.

    Not that it looked like he was going to have to work very hard to avoid the enemy¡¯s attention. As the Knights galloped into view, it was clear that their commander only had eyes for the smoke rising from Eagleton. Any competent leader should have been keeping the warbucks to a trot, not letting them race full out, but the half banner of cavalry was running down the road at full speed back towards their home. Matt thought he could see lather and steam from the heavily armored mounts rising into the cool fall morning. Even if they would have reached the fort in time, they would have likely been too tired to do much of anything.

    Not that he intended to give them anything close to that chance.

    He waited until they were nearly even with his men on the road, and then he waved to the trumpeter. The Goblin played three quick blasts, and Matt led the Warg riders as they charged straight into the enemy ranks.

    His troops caught the Knights completely by surprise. Strung out into a long column on the road, with mounts already strained and worn down with fatigue, they were slow to respond to the ambush. Some of them barely drew their weapons before the First was on them, curved swords hacking and slashing.

    Matt led Nelson right up alongside a Knight, letting the warbuck go all out. He came in along the Knight¡¯s left flank, his mace already raised. Despite the noise around him, he could hear the Knight make a surprised yelp, and frantically raise a shield strapped to his arm. When he brought the mace down, it smashed into the shield with all the force that Matt could muster.

    It then bounced off, and a flicker of magic running along the Knight¡¯s arms betrayed why. Matt grunted in shock; it was the first time he¡¯d ever gotten close enough to see the self-enhancements the Knights used firsthand. How did his Goblins overwhelm the rest of them so quickly?

    He recovered from his initial swing as the Knight lashed out at him with a short sword. The blade was lethally sharp, but Matt managed to lean away as it cut the air near his head. He responded with another direct attack, this time aiming for the Knight¡¯s leg, only for the shield to get in the way again. He heard the knight shout in victory as he raised his short sword high, ready to plunge it down with inhuman speed.

    That moment was when Nelson took matters into his own hands. The warbuck lurched to the side, smashing into the Knight¡¯s mount with crushing force. Nelson¡¯s shoulder caught the other warbuck just ahead of its ribs, and the Knight¡¯s steed faltered, its steps going a little off kilter from the shock. At the speed they were traveling, it was a fatal misstep; the warbuck¡¯s hoof caught on some near-invisible dip in the road, and suddenly the Knight and his mount were gone, tumbling in Nelson¡¯s wake with a terrible, rolling crash. Matt glanced backward to see another Knight try to leap over the fallen warbuck, only for his own steed to get tangled up in the living wreckage; both enemies went down in the dust of the road.

    Matt suppressed a shudder and turned his attention back to the front. He saw Wargs leaping on warbucks, and Goblins cutting down Knights as they ran. The Knights closer to the front had to choose between maintaining their forward momentum, or wheeling about to try to face the enemies coming at them from behind and to the side. Those who chose to ride harder would be difficult to catch¡ªat least until their poor mounts were falling over from exhaustion¡ªbut those who tried to turn back made themselves instant targets for the pursuing Wargs. As he watched, the captain of the banner tried to turn, to face her fate instead of being chased down like a dog. A Warg hit her steed like a wrecking ball made of claws and teeth, and the captain went down immediately.

    The battle all but over, Matt let Nelson¡¯s speed slack a little. There was no point in running the warbuck ragged, not when there were only a handful of Knights left running, and all of them were being pursued by Wargs with fangs bared and their Goblin riders slashing the air with their swords. He looked around, seeing more Knights surrendering or being brought down. A decent end to a hard-fought campaign.

    After the surrender of the survivors of the banner, Matt immediately turned his banner west.

    There was the temptation to stay, to continue the raids in the Knights¡¯ territory, but Matt knew it was a mistake. He¡¯d already caused enough chaos, and the forces of the enemy were already closing in around him and his men, like the jaws of a bear trap. Better to pull back and leave the Knights in confusion than to give them the satisfaction of driving him off.

    The trail of prisoners following after him only complicated matters, of course. None of the Knights were excited about marching into captivity¡ªunderstandable, from his point of view¡ªand their reluctant cooperation definitely slowed his people. It didn¡¯t help that many of the First were riding with wounds that were still healing, or that they carried whatever loot that they had found in the ruins of Eagleton.

    Still, despite those problems, the First made good time heading for the safety of Echo Pass. The remaining scouts reported that the old watchpost had been abandoned, the Knights inside either joining the hunt for his men or fleeing the place once they realized they were isolated and alone. Matt ordered one last fire set, and then they were climbing into the mountain passes once more.

    Echo Pass was just as unpleasant as it had been the first time, with the cluttered, boulder strewn passage causing nearly as many delays as the increasingly biting cold. Overhead, the sky began to be covered in clouds, threatening to hit them with a chilling rain, or worse, an early snow. He watched those clouds with concern every single day they wandered through the pass, hoping it would hold off just long enough. It was a relief when they reached the far side of the mountains, three days after Eagleton had burned.

    The High Imp watchpost on the western side of the pass was waiting anxiously for him, and Matt could see a messenger riding out toward Redspire the moment the First came into view. He sighed wearily, and glanced back at his ragged, war-torn, and yet victorious column. Going from a warfront to a political mess was not the most encouraging change, but at the very least he would not be quite as likely to get killed.

    At least, that was what he hoped.

    ¡°It is good to see you, sire! We had worried about your safety while you were in enemy territory.¡±

    The watchpost commander seemed sincere, but Matt was very well aware that the Imp had probably been expecting to not see the First ever again. At least, he probably hadn¡¯t thought that so much of the First would return, if any at all. He ignored the implicit criticism of his strategy and tried to keep his attention focused.

    ¡°Our campaign across the mountains is over. Our job there is done.¡± Matt glanced outside the watchpost, where the First was bunking down for the night, along with all of their captives. The implied justification of his strategy was probably obvious. ¡°What news do you have of the rest of the Kingdom?¡±

    The Imp¡¯s expression grew uncertain. ¡°We¡¯ve heard of the events that occurred in Redspire. To know that Lord Tek could even contemplate such treachery¡­¡±

    ¡°He was captured, then?¡± Matt had hoped that his troops could capture the old schemer, but it was never a guarantee. All he¡¯d really wanted was for Tek to be forced to either go on the run or die in a frantic last stand of some kind. Redspire itself would probably have suffered, but it was better to get rid of a traitor than to let them sit and fester right inside the capital.

    ¡°Lord Tek has been arrested, yes. Under accusation of treachery.¡± The watchpost commander swallowed uneasily, and Matt wondered if he was some distant relation of the traitor. ¡°The banners that were with him were mostly sent home, but one of them proclaimed their loyalty to you, sire, and has remained camped outside the city, awaiting your return.¡±

    ¡°Is that so?¡± An interesting development; perhaps Tek hadn¡¯t commanded as much loyalty among his own people as Matt had expected. If that was the case, it was welcome news. The last thing he needed was a third rebellion, even if that was better than two rebellions and a conspiracy. ¡°What about Greymouth? Has there been any news there?¡±

    ¡°Yes, sire!¡± The Imp was clearly relieved to move on from talking about Tek. ¡°Captain Morteth has reported that the siege has been broken! Greymouth is free!¡±

    Matt blinked. Yet more good news he hadn¡¯t expected. ¡°Broken? The enemy did not just withdraw?¡±

    The Imp shook his head. ¡°No, sire. Though many of them appear to have fled before our valiant defenders sallied out to confront them.¡± He lowered his voice slightly. ¡°It appeared that they were having trouble finding supplies. There were reports they were even fighting amongst each other in their own camp! But all the same, Captain Morteth drove them off, and does not expect them to return anytime soon.¡±

    ¡°Excellent.¡± Matt felt a brief moment of disquiet. If Morteth became popular enough, he might be a possible threat in the future. Had he managed to rid himself of Tek only to set up a replacement usurper? ¡°What of the other wars? Is there any news from the Small Heights? Or the Grim Hollows?¡±

    ¡°I have not heard anything of those battlefields, sire.¡± The Imp shifted uncomfortably. ¡°Will you be riding for Redspire? I am certain you will find more news there.¡±

    Matt paused for a moment, fighting the urge to ignore the question. He didn¡¯t need to keep all of his plans a secret, after all. ¡°Yes. The First will return with me to Redspire, and we¡¯ll prepare ourselves for the next campaign.¡± He glanced back towards Echo Pass. If he never saw that miserable trail again, it would be fine by him. ¡°Be careful. There might be enemy forces willing to brave the pass. If they come, either send a message to Greymouth, or to Redspire. Don¡¯t let yourself be caught unawares.¡±

    The Imp bowed. ¡°As ordered, sire.¡± Matt strode away, leaving the Imp to go about his business. It was time to return home and figure out what he could do next. Outside, the rain finally began to fall, pattering through the trees. He hoped that was not the bad omen it seemed to be.

    The road back to Redspire was not nearly as dramatic as the road out had been.

    Of course, the First were in high spirits now, riding comfortably along their own road and heavily laden with both loot and prisoners. They didn¡¯t quite break out into song like the infantry had when they¡¯d left Redspire, but there were plenty of jokes and taunts traded between the Goblins. The Knights, by contrast, only seemed to grow grimmer and more oppressed as they walked or rode, obviously seeing themselves as future serfs. Matt couldn¡¯t predict if they were going to be any happier when they realized that their future was probably more likely in a cell rather than in the fields. Time would tell.

    The rain didn¡¯t seem to affect their spirits either, though it continued and even worsened as the First rode south and west. It was foul luck, all the same, turning the dirt road to churned mud that clung to hoof and paw. Matt grimaced each time that Nelson struggled to pull a hoof free. Bedding down for each night wasn¡¯t much better; finding something high and out of the damp was nearly impossible, especially since their bedrolls and ground cloths were already soaked from the rain. At least they weren¡¯t being chased. Hopefully.

    All told, it took nearly three days to make their way back to the capital, their sodden banner held high and their mounts stained with mud. The First raised a stubborn cheer as the walls of the city came into view, and Matt couldn¡¯t help grinning himself. It didn¡¯t look like Tek had set half the city on fire, which was a fairly good sign. The gates were open too, which told him that whoever had replaced the treacherous little snake hadn¡¯t immediately decided to turn on him as well. He noticed that there were sentries on the walls, and that there was some kind of commotion as soon as the First became visible. Clearly, they¡¯d already been expecting him.

    Sure enough, a small Warg with a Goblin messenger on its back came sprinting out from the city gate. The mud didn¡¯t seem to matter to the beast as it raced along, tongue hanging half out of its mouth. Matt let the First continue forward, though he was tempted to call for a halt. He didn¡¯t want to ride directly into an ambush inside the walls, of course.

    The messenger made straight for the banner, drawing up to lope alongside the bearer for a moment. Matt could see the Goblin¡¯s head pivoting around, as if searching for him. He resisted the urge to wave to them, forced to sacrifice his impatience in order to preserve a more regal aspect. It was another effort not to sigh in relief as the Goblin saw him and rushed over to his side.

    ¡°King Matthew! The Grand Council bids you welcome back to Redspire. They are grateful to know that you remain well.¡±

    It took Matt a moment to realize what the messenger had said. He glanced at Snolt, and then nodded. ¡°I¡¯m glad to hear that the Grand Council has reconvened. Have they been meeting in the city?¡±

    ¡°They have, sire. They are currently using a room in the palace, though they have some interest in the construction that you have planned.¡± The messenger paused, looking around at the mud-spattered Knights, Goblins, Wargs, and warbucks around him. ¡°I believe they have been waiting for your arrival to truly begin their business. I am sure that they would appreciate an update on the war to the east.¡±

    ¡°I imagine so.¡± Matt gave him a small smile. ¡°Inform the Council that I will attend their next meeting. For now, I must see to my men and take care of the prisoners we¡¯ve taken. You¡¯re dismissed.¡±

    The messenger made a short bow from his saddle and then turned his Warg to head back to the city. Matt waited until the Goblin was a good distance away before he turned to Snolt. ¡°Captain, try to see if we can get everyone cleaned up. The Royal First is going to have a triumphant return to Redspire, and I want us to look our best. Within reason, of course.¡±

    Snolt grinned. ¡°Of course, my liege. We¡¯ll see if we can get some of the mud cleaned off.¡±

    The Goblin turned to shout orders, and Matt looked back at the city. He could see more people on the walls now, and there seemed to be a crowd forming inside the gate as well. None of them looked like they were armed. In fact, unless he was completely misjudging things, they looked like excited civilians. Perhaps things weren¡¯t going as badly as he had expected, here.

    There was only one way to find out.

 B1Ch13: Triumph and Treachery

    The return of the Royal First happened during a small rainstorm that did absolutely nothing to stop the citizens of Redspire from coming to see them. By the time the Warg riders came into the city, their soaked banner waving in the occasional autumnal gust of wind, Goblins, Imps, Gnomes, and Orcs already lined the streets, many of whom were cheering or shouting as the parade went past them.

    Matt grinned as he waved to the crowds. He could see many of his men smiling as well, some of whom were bending from the saddle to reach out to the crowds. Some of them laughed as their Wargs shook a bit of water from their coats, spattering both their fellow soldiers and members of the crowd. As the captured Knights rode past, their hands still bound, some of the crowd¡¯s cheers turned to jeers and insults. A few unwise people tried to throw things, but the Wargs guarding the prisoners snarled and snapped at those who did.

    In general, it was a fairly good start to a display of victory. Matt hoped it would make enough of an impression on the Council to give him some space to work with. At least, he hoped it would keep them from immediately making trouble, though he didn¡¯t know if that was just wishful thinking.

    As if summoned by the thought, Gorfeld appeared at his side. The Imp didn¡¯t appear to have any trouble walking beside Nelson¡¯s shoulder, though he did cast a suspicious look around. ¡°Welcome home, sire.¡±

    ¡°Gorfeld, good to see you.¡± Matt tried to make sure his voice remained even. He kept a smile plastered on his face while he continued to wave. ¡°Do you have a report for me?¡±

    The steward didn¡¯t seem surprised by the demand. He nodded. ¡°The arrest of Lord Tek went well. He and his captains are in the Tower as we speak, and no one has attempted to rescue them.¡±

    ¡°Good.¡± Matt¡¯s smile struggled a bit. ¡°I heard something about a banner that refused to leave?¡±

    ¡°Yes. Lord Melren¡¯s men. He swore to your cause as soon as he and the other captains were arrested, and his men are still here, waiting for the chance to swear fealty to you directly.¡±

    Matt looked down at the steward, whose expression remained carefully blank. ¡°Are they serious?¡±

    ¡°They seem sincere. At the very least, they aren¡¯t causing any trouble, and they have obeyed all orders from the Guard.¡± Gorfeld shrugged. ¡°It¡¯s possible that Lord Melren is just abandoning a sinking ship. He must know that Lord Tek is no longer a reliable patron. Even among the High Imps, it appears that Tek is no longer considered a viable leader. Lord Torth has taken over the High Imp faction within the Grand Council almost immediately after the arrest.¡±

    ¡°Lord Torth?¡± Matt shook his head slightly. ¡°I don¡¯t remember what House he is from.¡±

    ¡°He is the nominal head of House Ndai, sire. Lord Tek was the head of House Kerall.¡± Gorfeld paused, and then looked forward, as if to avoid meeting Matt¡¯s gaze. ¡°Lord Melren also owes fealty to House Ndai, and several banners from Ndai were garrisoned at Greymouth.¡±

    ¡°Ah.¡± Matt considered that development for a moment. Tek had probably considered House Ndai a competitor of sorts. Betraying Greymouth would have led to hundreds of Ndai soldiers being killed; that betrayal would have been a logical reason for Ndai to turn on Tek in response. That fact meant that Torth and Melren might actually be sincere allies to his cause.

    Of course, their involvement in things might also mean that they would be the next new plotters against his reign, so he would have to watch them carefully. Just like everyone else, now that he thought about it.

    Speaking of which¡­ ¡°I heard there was a battle at Greymouth, led by a Captain Morteth. Is he another member of House Ndai?¡±

    ¡°Yes, sire. Though he seemed to have little court influence, at least until his recent victory.¡± Gorfeld glanced back at him, his expression unreadable. ¡°He followed your orders and assaulted the enemy siege camp at a moment when some of the enemy had withdrawn. Apparently, the Noble Races were running quite low on supplies.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s what happens when I burn all of your supply convoys.¡± Matt¡¯s smile grew less kind and more sincere. ¡°Is he loyal?¡±

    ¡°As far as I know. He returned to Greymouth after the Noble Races fled. I haven¡¯t heard any news about him marching on Redspire.¡±

    Matt nodded slowly. ¡°Is there any news from Braden and Suluth? Or Grufen and Nuramesh?¡±

    ¡°Fighting continues throughout the Small Heights. Lord Grufen has reported several battles with the Lady Itrelia, but for now they appear to be holding her at bay.¡± The steward paused and then looked away again. ¡°There was a battle in the Grim Hollows. It¡­ did not go well.¡±

    There it was. He knew there couldn¡¯t have been only good news. ¡°How badly did it go, Gorfeld?¡±

    ¡°Lord Braden was badly wounded, and the army he led was overwhelmed. They have retreated towards Redspire. Lord Teblas has marched on the Sortenmoors, where he is currently fighting the militia.¡±

    Matt grunted, letting his expression grow unhappy at last. ¡°Has there been any news from Lady Suluth?¡±

    ¡°No, sire. I imagine that she has simply been too busy to respond.¡± Gorfeld glanced around at the surrounding Goblins. They might not have belonged to Suluth¡¯s Blackleafs clan, but they might show a bit more loyalty to Suluth than Matt might have liked. ¡°We¡¯ve also received news that Lord Braden suffered some sort of¡­incident during his recovery after the battle. He is dead.¡±

    This time, there was no way he could hide his reaction. Matt pivoted in his saddle to glare down at Gorfeld. ¡°Are you saying that he was murdered?¡±

    The steward gave another careful look around. ¡°Apparently, a messenger arrived claiming to need to see him. The messenger stabbed him, and Braden succumbed to poison shortly afterward.¡±

    ¡°Great. Just great.¡± It wasn¡¯t that bad; after all, Braden would probably have turned on Matt at the first opportunity. At the same time, Braden was a somewhat reliable commander, and the last thing he needed was for someone to be picking off his generals. Especially since the prime suspect was the same noblewoman who was supposed to be defending the Sortenmoors from both the Alliance of Light and Teblas¡¯ troops. ¡°If we get any information on Suluth¡¯s activities or location, I want to know it immediately. Until then, I want the troops Braden used to lead to regroup inside the Darkwood. They can camp there until winter is over.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ll send the message right away, sire.¡± Gorfeld let out a slow breath. ¡°Fortunately, it appears that there were several militia formed in response to the decrees you sent, and they have been holding their own against Lord Teblas. His forces have been struggling to establish a foothold in the Sortenmoors, and the Alliance of Light hasn¡¯t launched their own assault yet either.¡±

    Matt nodded. He hadn¡¯t expected the Alliance to attack quite yet; unlike the Noble Races, their leadership was probably taking the time to arrange their supplies and let the situation settle a little. They¡¯d be a much bigger problem, especially in the spring, but for now, they were less of an issue than the rebels. ¡°What else Gorfeld?¡±

    The steward coughed slightly. ¡°The workmen you requested to gather at the capital have mostly arrived. Nearly four hundred Gnomes and about six hundred other workers. The Low Folk representatives are already organizing them to start on the first projects you had listed.¡±

    ¡°The water systems?¡± Gorfeld nodded, and Matt felt himself relax slightly. ¡°Good. Are we gathering enough brick and mortar for their work?¡±

    ¡°Yes, sire, though we did have a bit of work in order to find the sand and gravel.¡± Gorfeld chuckled a little. ¡°Your demands were very clear, at least, so the Low Folk have been diligent about carrying them out. I believe they might finish the first of your projects before the end of the fall.¡±

    ¡°That is excellent news. Tell them I am especially happy about that, and that once I deal with the Grand Council, I¡¯ll be meeting with them directly.¡± Gorfeld nodded, and Matt congratulated himself for another small victory. It was one that was more of a long-term effort, but in the end, he expected it to be just as important as any of the battles he was fighting. ¡°Go ahead and get a change of clothing ready for me, Gorfeld. Once we are done here, I¡¯ll be calling the Grand Council to order.¡±

    ¡°Yes, sire.¡± Gorfeld bowed slightly and then vanished away through the crowds. Matt thought he could follow the Imp¡¯s progress for a while, but he kept his eyes back on the road. Regaining his smile took some effort, mostly by picturing Suluth joining Tek in prison, but he managed it. The people didn¡¯t want to see him scowling in a victory parade, after all.

    The Grand Council was waiting for Matt when he arrived.

    It was a big name for what seemed like such a small group. Each of the noble Houses had sent a representative to stand for them and their interests. There were almost fifty of them, ranging from High Imps to Hard Scythe Orcs, from Gnomes to Blackleaf Goblins. All of them were watching as he entered the room. The instant Matt entered the room, he made a note to himself to have a new place built for them. It was apparently the old room where the Council had met a few rulers ago, back before it had been disbanded. If the cramped conditions hadn¡¯t given away how later rulers had neglected the place, the slightly shabby furniture was another fairly direct clue. Even the nobles themselves seemed unhappy about their seats.

    Though of course, they probably had other things to be unhappy about.

    Matt walked to the ornate chair set up at the rear of the room, where he could preside over the proceedings. He heard the murmur of conversation among the nobles come to a stop as he walked, as more and more of the nobles turned their full attention to him. At least he wasn¡¯t still covered in mud from the road. The palace servants had been more than happy to draw up a quick bath and provide him with a copy of the tunic and cape that he¡¯d worn to the coronation. One of them had even taken the time to clean off his mace, which was a nice touch.

    He could tell that some of the nobles felt uncomfortable that he¡¯d brought that weapon into the Council chambers, but he didn¡¯t care. There was too much to do; he couldn¡¯t waste any time today. Not if he was going to get everything done.

    Reaching the throne, Matt turned and regarded the now-silent room. He held his mace at his side, less a ceremonial weapon and more of a reminder that he was not just some fortunate fool. It wouldn¡¯t hurt for them to remember that he had led troops into battle and claimed victory. People tended to respect leaders on the front lines, especially ones that had a habit of surviving.

    If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. Please report it.

    ¡°I bid you all welcome to the Grand Council of Redspire. You all have my gratitude, both for traveling here from your homes and for biding your time until I returned.¡± Technically, the Council should probably have been welcoming him, but Matt wanted to set in stone where the power lay. If the Kingdom wanted a King, he would give them one. At least, until they no longer needed him. ¡°Unfortunately, there was work that needed to be done in the east. Now that my responsibilities there are settled for the moment, we can begin to care for the rest of the Kingdom.¡±

    He paused, looking around the room again. ¡°As members of this Grand Council, you will have much to debate and consider. Going forward, it will be your responsibility to consider new laws and taxes, to muster armies for our defense, and to appoint new judges and officers. When embassies come to make treaties, it will be your chance to secure peace and tributes for our people. If the Kingdom needs to declare war, it will be your decision to do so. The prosperity of our people lies in your hands, and if you fail, so will our future.¡±

    There had been smiles at the beginning of the speech. It was clear that the Red Sorceress had never given the nobles this much of a say in the government of the Kingdom; in fact, he doubted they had had much of a chance to do much more than manage their own serfs and plot behind her back. While it was tempting to try to make all the decisions on to himself, Matt knew the wiser course would be to stick the Council with all the paperwork, debates, and negotiations while he handled things that were far more immediate concerns.

    Of course, by the end of the speech, some of the smiling nobles looked a little more grim. It might have settled in exactly the kind of attitude that their new King was going to have towards them. He met some of their eyes and nodded slightly. ¡°It is my responsibility, as King, to make sure that you have the chance to fulfill those responsibilities. To that end, I will see to the defeat of the invaders. I will put down those rebels who seek to destroy our Kingdom. I will punish any and all who betray us, and build up our people. Together, we will build a Kingdom that will stand as our legacy throughout time.¡±

    At the mention of betrayal, more of the nobles had gone quiet and serious. Matt silently congratulated them for their understanding, and then he gestured towards the doors, where two of the soldiers from the Eighth Spears were waiting. ¡°As the first of those actions, I must take the time to punish the betrayal of one of our own.¡±

    One of the soldiers stepped back to open the door, and four other soldiers filtered through the door, a small figure in chains shuffling between them. There was a sudden burst of murmurs from the gathered nobility, one that was swiftly silenced. ¡°You know him as Lord Tek the Mad, a leader among the High Imps. He betrayed our Kingdom, first to the rebels under Lady Itrelia, and then to the invaders from the east. He did so out of ambition, hoping that by killing so many of our brave defenders he could seize control of the Kingdom in the chaos.¡±

    Each of those accusations was true, as far as he could determine. At least one of the captains under Tek had confessed, and some of the Frost Elves had corroborated it. Matt was leaving out at least one part of the plan, the part where Tek would have captured and killed him personally. None of the nobles would have missed that step, but he didn¡¯t want to remind them of the potential power a simple assassination would give them.

    Matt looked down at Tek. The old High Imp glared back up at him, his eyes glinting with repressed rage and bitter disappointment. ¡°Each of these crimes would have crippled our people, and opened the gates wide for our destruction. For this reason, he must be punished.¡± He paused. ¡°Do any here speak in his defense?¡±

    There was a deep, lasting silence. None of the nobles stepped forward, each of them refusing to meet Matt¡¯s eyes as he looked around. The only exception was a High Imp¡ªhe assumed it was Lord Torth¡ªwho simply met Matt¡¯s eyes and nodded.

    Matt turned back to Tek, who was still glaring at him in hatred. ¡°I do not wish to condemn a man without any friends or allies to speak for him, but it appears your treachery has offended the entire Kingdom. Do you have any defense to say for yourself, Lord Tek?¡±

    Tek glanced around the room. Then he spat a gob of phlegm onto the floor at his feet. ¡°None of you would have done any different. This Kingdom should have been mine, not yours. I only did what needed to be done, for the good of whatever remnants would remain. Redspire should be ruled by our own, not outsiders! Do whatever you will, but I die no worse than any of you.¡±

    Another silence fell, and Matt waited, just to make sure the old High Imp was done. Then he sighed. ¡°Outsider or no, I was called here as King, to defend and protect this people. By betraying Greymouth and treating with rebels, you would have failed those responsibilities before you even gained the crown¡ªand despite your accusations, you are the only one I know who participated in this plot.¡±

    Matt stepped forward, hefting the mace in his hand. ¡°Lord Tek of the High Imps, you are sentenced to death. Are there any who protest this sentence?¡±

    Another silence followed. Then, reluctantly, Lord Torth stepped forward. ¡°Sire, though it pains me to speak for this traitor, would exile also suit this crime? Once banished from our lands, we would no longer need to worry about him, and we would be seen as merciful.¡±

    Torth had framed the question carefully enough that Matt nearly smiled. He recognized the attempt to challenge his authority without blatantly coming into the open as another traitor. It was a healthy sign of a confident leader¡ªbut also a possible sign of trouble in the future. Lord Torth would probably make an interesting debate opponent if the stakes weren¡¯t so high.

    Unfortunately, he wasn¡¯t playing some game. Exiling Tek would give the Imp the opportunity to go to their enemies and provide information. It might even allow Tek to scheme to take over another nation, as the Red Sorceress had done here, and turn even more people against his Kingdom. Almost as bad, it would give the nobles gathered in the room the idea that he would tolerate a little betrayal. Ceaser had been a merciful man; it had not ended well for him. Tek had to be the example of what would happen if these self-absorbed aristocrats tried to murder and scheme their way to the top, to the detriment of the thousands who depended on them.

    So instead, Matt shook his head. ¡°I understand your concern, Lord Torth. It is unfortunate that we begin a day like this one with bloodshed, and mercy is a sign of strength.¡± Then he turned to Tek, stepping forward again. The mace swung at his side. Why did it seem heavier now? ¡°Yet in this case, it would lead us astray. Our mercy would allow this man, who has already plotted with our enemies, to go to them and scheme to our disadvantage. No, for this traitor¡ªfor any traitor¡ªthere is only one end.¡±

    Matt raised the mace and brought it down hard. The impact smashed Tek to the floor, breaking the High Imp like a toy. He delivered another two blows, just to make sure, and then stepped back. When he looked around the room, he saw several of the nobles had grown pale. Lord Torth, for his part, seemed more satisfied than anything else, and he gave Matt another nod when their eyes met.

    ¡°Such is the fate of those who betray our Kingdom.¡± Matt gritted his teeth against his own feelings and gestured. The soldiers that had guarded Tek lifted the body and retreated back through the doorway. As they disappeared through the door, Matt walked back to the throne. He sat in it, leaning the mace against its side. ¡°Now, shall we begin?¡±

    There was a shuffling amongst the nobility, as if none of them wanted to be the first to speak. Matt waited another moment and then leaned forward slightly. ¡°My first proposal, as the King, would be that we see to it that no further treacheries endanger our people. To this end, I must commend the actions of both the Crown Guard and of the freeholders of the city. Their actions allowed this treachery to be destroyed at its root, and without their help, we could have seen far more bloodshed than this.¡±

    A general mutter of agreement ran through the room, with some of the nobles even going so far as to tap the floor with canes or feet in a kind of applause. Matt nodded and continued. ¡°As freeholders, many of these citizens have the right to gather in Assemblies. They feel as strongly loyal to our Kingdom as any of the men and women here, and are often less¡­ afflicted with the curse of ambition. For that reason, I propose we extend a new right to the freeholders of our realm. Each Assembly will have the right to promote a single one of their number as a Voice, who can then stand to prevent any action of this Council, or any noble, that they deem to be a threat to the Kingdom or its people.¡±

    The proposal fell among the nobles like an explosion. Several of them flinched as if he had struck them, and Lord Torth almost immediately stood up from his seat. ¡°Sire, while I believe your concerns about plots are valid and wise, I do not know if this course would lead to a good end. The people are often fickle, and giving them such power could lead to disruptions among the Kingdom. Surely we would not want to encourage them to undermine the natural order of our realm with such a plan.¡±

    Matt looked over at Torth, who returned to his seat immediately. ¡°Your concerns are natural, Lord Torth. After all, not a few weeks ago, the freeholders were merely serfs, unused to making any of their own decisions. They might often be unsteady, quick to anger, and overly gullible. Yet none of the rebellions we now face have come from them, have they?¡±

    His question provoked another rumble of protest, followed by another contemplative silence. He continued in an even voice. ¡°However, let us pretend the freeholders do grow overly excited or ambitious. Perhaps they are resentful over their many years of servitude, or believe that they have been oppressed. Currently, what would they do to avenge themselves?¡±

    Another of the nobles rose, a Goblin wearing the colors of a Blackleaf Clan noblewoman. Her voice was only slightly unsteady. ¡°I have seen such an occurrence. There had been some¡­incidents involving a younger member of my house. The serfs rose up and rioted. They burned down his home, slaughtered him and his children¡­¡±

    She turned to Matt, her eyes accusing. ¡°You would give such people the right to challenge us?¡±

    ¡°Better that they challenge you here, that they voice their complaints here, than to have them descend into chaos like you described.¡± Matt sat back on the throne, looking around the room again. ¡°Riots are not the only thing they could do. How long would our Kingdom last if the Low Folk simply laid down their arms and tools? How would we defend our borders and tend to our fields and workshops if they simply refused to help? Violence is not the only weapon they can use. Simple disinterest on their part would doom us just as quickly.¡±

    There was another silence, and the Goblin noblewoman sat down. After a moment, an Orc dressed in Hard Scythe blues stood. ¡°Your suggestion is that by allowing them a chance to counter us, we would prevent more serious problems in the future. Yet what if they simply obstruct everything we try to do? What if they refuse every tax we levy, or refuse to muster themselves to arms? Their obstruction would destroy us just as easily.¡±

    Matt opened his mouth to respond, but Lord Torth stepped forward instead. The High Imp¡¯s eyes were glittering with realization this time. ¡°A true concern, Lord Worben, but I have just realized something. You said that these Voices could stand in our way. Could they also stand in yours?¡±

    The noblemen turned toward Matt, and he smiled. ¡°A good question, Lord Torth. No. As my responsibilities involve those things crucial to the Kingdom, a Voice would not be able to veto my actions.¡±

    ¡°So if a Voice has grown too obstinate, we could turn to you for judgement.¡± Another mutter ran through the nobles. Some of them were whispering to one another, as if working out the permutations of the system. Lord Torth simply gave Matt a broad grin. He was definitely going to need to be watched closely. Someone that clever could be a great ally¡­or an even greater enemy.

    ¡°You are correct, Lord Torth. I would be able to make a decision on the matter.¡± Matt made a dismissive gesture. ¡°I would be diligent in answering such petitions. I have no desire to see our Kingdom grow stagnant.¡±

    ¡°Indeed.¡± Lord Torth gave him another, slightly more respectful nod. ¡°Then I will only hope that you will continue to decide wisely. For the sake of our Kingdom.¡±

    ¡°Of course.¡± Mat shrugged. ¡°Aside from that, I would propose that these Voices be given the greatest protections we can offer. Any assault or bribery on them should be answered as if it were treachery, to keep them safe. To keep them honest, a Voice would also only serve for a handful of years, and would have to be a freeholder, not a serf or a nobleman. In addition, the Council would be able to ask a particular Assembly to recall a Voice and choose a new one, should they believe that the current one has grown corrupted.¡±

    He paused, looking around. ¡°Are there any other questions or concerns about this matter?¡±

    There was more muttering among the nobles, but none of them seemed excited to stand. Only Lord Worben remained, the Orc¡¯s expression a little stubborn. ¡°You are asking us to make this choice. If we do not, will you declare it anyway?¡±

    The question brought another of those sudden silences to the room. Matt shrugged. ¡°Yes. I consider this measure a crucial part of our Kingdom¡¯s growth, so I would make it a royal decree if you do not agree. I would consider it better if the decision came from you, however. It would¡­promote more trust between this Council and those we rule.¡±

    Then he looked back at Lord Torth, and couldn¡¯t help but smile. ¡°In the end, I suppose I must only hope that you will decide wisely. For the sake of our Kingdom.¡±

 B1Ch14: Diplomats and Digsites

    About two hours later, Matt slumped into the seat in his study with a weary sigh.

    The Grand Council had not given in immediately. It wasn¡¯t an attempt at rebellion or a sign of defiance; Matt thought it was more that they were trying to adjust themselves to participating in any kind of debate that didn¡¯t involve knives or clubs. Eventually, they had finally settled into agreeing to at least three laws.

    The first had been fairly straightforward, basically accepting the proposal to allow Assemblies of freeholders to elect Voices. There had been some debate as to how many freeholders constituted an Assembly, though they had eventually agreed that an Assembly counted as any gathering of more than five hundred freeholders. Assemblies of over ten thousand could elect two Voices, though many of the looks the noblemen had exchanged had told him they were doubtful that an Assembly would ever reach that size.

    Their second act had been to declare a muster for the freeholders, summoning at least ten banners of reserves to Redspire from all over the Kingdom. Those troops would be crucial over the coming days, and the sooner they arrived and began training, the better. Matt was glad to see the nobles were willing to set aside their grievances for long enough to help defend the Kingdom. They had even agreed to a tax on the nobility in an attempt to defray the cost.

    Unfortunately, they had also decided that their King needed a bit more protection, possibly to guard against another charge into enemy territory. They had created a small band of bodyguards, calling them the lifeguard, who would need to accompany him wherever he went. He supposed he should feel flattered by the concern, but it would be awkward to have a personal retinue to manage. Then again, if he couldn¡¯t manage to maneuver around a few bodyguards, then he didn¡¯t have much hope for survival in the future.

    It was the third act that had required a bit more debate. The nobility might have been sufficiently cowed by Tek¡¯s execution to not defy him, but honoring others was never a big part of their collective will. Still, he¡¯d convinced them that rewarding their defenders was prudent, and so they had seen their way clear to rewarding the members of the Crown Guard with the prizes he¡¯d promised them. They¡¯d also given both Captain Morteth and Lord Grufen a new honor, recognizing them both as Defenders of the Realm. With some small extra effort, he¡¯d also managed to give that title to Lord Braden¡ªposthumously, of course¡ªwhich was a lot less of an issue. Apparently, it was easier to honor a dead rival than a living possible friend.

    Still, it was not a bad start to the Grand Council¡¯s tenure. If they remained this biddable, Matt didn¡¯t see any reason why he would have to interfere much in their decisions. At least, he didn¡¯t think so yet.

    He glanced down at the map laid out on his writing table, and his weariness lessened as he took in the information on it. According to the last messengers he¡¯d had, Grufen was holding the line in the Small Heights. Lady Itrelia had made some headway at first, but the arrival of the Hard Scythe Orcs had driven her back, to the point where there were whispers that the Frost Elves were balking at their supposed queen¡¯s orders. Given the disasters she¡¯d already led them into, Matt didn¡¯t doubt there was some discontent there, but he wasn¡¯t planning on relying on that fragile hope. He¡¯d have to deal with her directly at some point.

    Morteth¡¯s reports from the east were a little more encouraging. The Noble Races had retreated in poor order, just this side of a complete rout. He¡¯d apparently managed to time his counterattack at just the right time, catching the assembled siege forces when they were squabbling over the few remaining supplies in their camp. The half-starved, bitter soldiers had panicked when Morteth¡¯s men had hit their lines, and they had fled almost immediately, ignoring the orders of those officers that had tried to keep them standing. Some of the banners had stood, but they had been isolated and weakened by lack of rations, and Morteth had driven them off in short order.

    In all, the commander of Greymouth had claimed to have destroyed nearly five banners of Knights and Elves, driven the enemy from the mountains, and completely destroyed the enemy camp. His report had been professional, respectful, and competent. Matt desperately hoped that he could trust the man; it would be painful to discover a reliable general only to have to kill him in self-preservation.

    Reports from the south were¡­less than encouraging. The remnants of Lord Braden¡¯s force were gathering in the city of Shadowfen, the capital city of the Blackleaf Goblins. Given his suspicions about Suluth, that suggested some ominous possibilities, but he doubted that Braden¡¯s Orcs would respect someone who just assassinated their leader. If anything, the banners might keep Suluth from leading her Goblins into rebellion. He had to hope that would be possible, given the other problems he faced.

    Teblas was officially his least favorite person in the world, now that Tek was dead. The rebel Leaffall Orc had pushed on through the Grim Hollows into the Sortenmoors, starting a campaign to try to claim that territory for himself. He¡¯d apparently run into some resistance, however. Matt¡¯s picture of the situation there wasn¡¯t clear; neither Suluth nor the ad hoc militia there were sending him any messengers, and only a few of his own scouts were managing to come back. At the very least, the Alliance of Light hadn¡¯t made any appearances yet. They were probably gathering supplies and troops, getting ready for a campaign once the winter snows had melted.

    At the very least, the west seemed to be secure. He¡¯d had no reports of any raids from the Coalition, and no news of any bandit groups breaking the truce on his side. Matt didn¡¯t know how long he could count on that, but at least it would probably hold through the winter. It had to, if he was going to keep anything together.

    There was a knock at the door, and Matt looked up in surprise. He had expected to have at least a little time to rest before his meeting with the Low Folk. If anything, that project was almost as important as anything else, and he had hoped for the chance to focus on it.

    He shrugged. Things were going well enough that it felt foolish to demand anything better. ¡°Enter.¡±

    Gorfeld stepped through the door, followed closely by someone he vaguely recognized. They were a Wizard, by the robes and the eyes, but he couldn¡¯t quite place the face. His steward bowed low. ¡°Sire, the ambassador from the Western Coalition wishes to speak with you. Do you have a moment?¡±

    Matt looked from Gorfeld to the Wizard. He recognized him now; it was the brash young ambassador from the negotiations. The young man was making a fair attempt at being brave, but it was clear he remained a little nervous. ¡°I do have a moment. Is there something you wish to discuss?¡± As the Wizard opened his mouth, Matt held up a hand. ¡°Actually, first, I don¡¯t believe that I heard your name before.¡±

    The Wizard hesitated, as if thrown off balance. He fidgeted slightly. ¡°My name is Paralus, King Matthew.¡±

    ¡°Ah, yes. I remember you from the talks. It¡¯s just been a rather busy month.¡± Matt gave him a wry smile and then gestured for the Wizard to take a seat. The young man did so gingerly, as if afraid the chair would bite him. Gorfeld took up a position next to the door, the Imp¡¯s eyes alert.

    ¡°Now. What do you need from me today, Paralus?¡± Matt phrased the question carefully, not wanting to appear too helpful. Paralus represented a potential enemy, after all.

    Paralus took a moment to breathe, as if to steady himself. When he spoke, his voice was much steadier. ¡°First, may I extend our congratulations to you on your successful campaigns. Though we mourn the loss of so many lives, we hope your victories will lead to a time of peace for your Kingdom in the future.¡±

    ¡°A reasonable hope, though I doubt that our neighbors have much interest in that at the moment.¡± Matt shook his head. ¡°Lord Hethwellow especially seemed to want my head. If anything, his losses will only make him even keener to take it now.¡±

    Paralus grimaced a little. ¡°That¡­may be, King Matthew. All the same, the way for peace is always open.¡±

    Matt gave him no answer for that statement, idealistic as it was. He simply gestured for the ambassador to continue.

    ¡°I was sent originally as both a messenger and an observer on behalf of the Coalition. It was felt that given the terms of our truce, it would be wise to have someone to communicate with you on our behalf.¡±

    ¡°A wise decision. There are too many times when a misunderstanding has led to war, and I wouldn¡¯t want that to happen between us.¡± Matt tapped the table as he thought further along those lines. ¡°Now that you mention it, I suppose I should ask the Grand Council to appoint our own ambassador to your lands. I trust they would be well received there?¡±

    The Wizard blinked. He nodded slowly. ¡°Yes, I believe they would. We would certainly be able to provide them lodging at our court.¡±

    Matt nodded in return. ¡°Good. I¡¯ll present the need to them in their next session.¡±

    Paralus hesitated and then leaned forward. His multicolored eyes flashed with sudden interest. ¡°This Grand Council, I understand you reinstated it very recently?¡±

    There was something about the way the young man spoke that drew Matt¡¯s attention. It wasn¡¯t just a diplomatic ploy of some kind; there was real interest in the words. ¡°Yes, it was a tradition that the Kingdom once had that had fallen into disrepute. I felt it was wise to revive it.¡±

    ¡°Yes. A wise choice. There is strength in tradition, after all.¡± Paralus¡¯ eyes grew sharper. ¡°Yet in other ways, you have acted against tradition. With the establishment of the¡­freeholders? And this idea that their representatives can interfere with the decisions of the nobility? It flies in the face of the natural order of things.¡±

    ¡°Ah.¡± Matt sat back in his chair. ¡°You¡¯re wondering why I respect tradition in some cases, and ignore it in others.¡±

    Paralus nodded, and Matt continued with a small smile. ¡°Well, think of it like sailing a ship. Are you aware of how that works?¡±

    If you come across this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.

    The Wizard nodded again, his expression a bit affronted. ¡°Of course I do. The wind fills the sails, and the ship moves.¡±

    ¡°Exactly. Tradition can be much the same. If you follow it, you can draw great strength from it. But will it take you where you want to go?¡± He watched as Paralus opened his mouth, and then frowned. ¡°If all you do is travel where the wind takes you, you¡¯ll never control your own course. A wise captain uses the wind, but he changes the angle of the sails and his rudder to make sure that his ship arrives where it needs to go.¡±

    Understanding dawned in those strange, whiteless eyes. ¡°So you are doing likewise here. Steering things so that you enjoy the power of tradition, but not letting it control your decisions.¡± Paralus paused again, and then tilted his head. ¡°So where is it that you are taking your ship?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m guiding us exactly where I swore I would.¡± Matt gestured to the wall, and to the city beyond it. ¡°I mean to see the people of this Kingdom safe, prosperous, and happy. If I need tradition to strengthen me for that goal, then I will use it. If my goals demand that I forgo that strength for a time, then I will have no problem doing that either.¡±

    ¡°I see.¡± Paralus looked down at his hands for a moment, his expression uncertain. Then he looked back up. ¡°Thank you for your answers. It will help me understand your actions. I have one more concern, a request that the Clans of Rust entrusted to me.¡±

    Matt raised an eyebrow, and the young Wizard continued. ¡°They are concerned with your use of Gnomish laborers outside of Redspire. I tried to explain that they were here of their own will, but the Dwarves remain unconvinced. Would it be acceptable for me to visit them while they are at their work?¡±

    ¡°Of course.¡± Matt smiled in relief. He¡¯d thought the Dwarves might have made some ridiculous demand about freeing the Small Heights; perhaps the active signs of warfare in the area had finally convinced the stubborn fools to stop pestering him about it. ¡°In fact, I was going to inspect their project today. You can accompany me.¡±

    He looked at Gorfeld, who was still waiting patiently by the door. ¡°Send a messenger to the labor crews. I don¡¯t want to catch them off guard. They weren¡¯t expecting us for a few more hours.¡±

    Gorfeld bowed. ¡°Yes, sire.¡± He stepped to the door and spoke to someone outside. Matt heard footsteps retreating down the hallway as a servant went to get the message going. He stood up, making sure that his notes and maps were secure, and then looked to Paralus. The Wizard had stood as well, looking slightly alarmed. Perhaps he hadn¡¯t expected to be given what he¡¯d asked for.

    Matt smiled. He¡¯d been looking forward to seeing the progress here. ¡°Well, then, let¡¯s be off. I¡¯m sure that we don¡¯t want to keep them waiting.¡±

    ¡°This seems¡­fascinating, King Matthew.¡±

    Matt chuckled a little at the nonplused expression on Paralus¡¯ face. The Wizard was studying, for all intents and purposes, a large square hole in the ground. It measured about fifty meters on a side and was already about a meter deep. Laborers of all races were hard at work in the sodden earth, working to deepen the hole. A short distance away, there was another hole full of Gnomes, Goblins, Orcs, and Imps doing the exact same thing.

    ¡°It might seem like not much to look at now, but you are looking at the future of Redspire.¡± Matt turned as a rough-faced Gnome approached. Unlike Lord Nuramesh, this Gnome looked as if he¡¯d never spent a day clean of dirt in his life. His face was smudged with mud, and he was dressed in a leather tunic that looked close to armor encrusted with old dirt. ¡°Here is the site foreman. Parufeth, I think your name was?¡±

    The Gnome gave him a broad grin. ¡°Yes, sire, that¡¯s me. You¡¯ll excuse me if I don¡¯t shake your hand.¡± He waved a callused hand caked with filth, and Matt shrugged. Paralus actually shrank back slightly; it looked as if the Wizard was mildly ill at the sight of the Gnome. ¡°We¡¯re just starting on the site, here, but we¡¯re making good progress. I imagine we can start the brickwork within the next couple of weeks.¡±

    Matt nodded. ¡°Excellent. It seems like you are on schedule so far.¡±

    ¡°We are, sire. The tunnels are going well, too. I¡¯d say by mid-winter we¡¯ll be able to start on the next bit of work.¡±

    Paralus broke in, his voice horribly uncertain. ¡°May I ask what exactly you are doing here, sir Gnome? Is this intended to be some sort of garbage pit?¡±

    Parufeth laughed, some of his coating of dirt falling away. ¡°To be honest, I¡¯m not entirely sure. I¡¯m no sir, though. Just a freeholder, as I understand it.¡±

    The Gnome looked at Matt with a hint of nervousness, and Matt glanced at Paralus. ¡°All of the workers are here of their own free will, working for a good wage. None of them are being forced.¡± He looked back to the hole and smiled. ¡°As for what we are doing here, it is something that will save hundreds, if not thousands, of lives in Redspire.¡±

    Both of them blinked in surprised. Even the guards assigned to him by the Grand Council, who had been standing with some amount of boredom a short distance away, turned to look back at him, their faces incredulous. Only Gorfeld appeared unsurprised. Instead, the steward was watching him closely, his expression serious.

    Matt grinned. He gestured to the River Crimson, which was flowing by at a languid pace a short distance away. ¡°Tell me, Paralus. If some inconsiderate Goblin lets his Warg crap in that river, how far upriver does it need to be for me not to taste it in the water in Redspire?¡±

    The question caught the group off guard, and Parufeth let out a bark of laughter despite himself. Paralus looked nonplused again, and somewhat annoyed. ¡°I am not sure, King Matthew. It would have to be some distance, I am sure.¡±

    ¡°At the very least, you wouldn¡¯t want to be drawing water with it happening in eyesight, correct?¡± The Wizard nodded, and Matt continued. ¡°That Warg isn¡¯t just causing a bad taste, you know. Waste and decay can carry disease as well. Drinking foul water is as dangerous as eating rotten meat. Worse, in some ways, because a single bit of corruption can taint a whole well for some time.¡±

    The Wizard frowned, looking at the river. ¡°Which is why it is wise to boil such water. Is this not done among your people?¡±

    ¡°In most cases, I¡¯m sure it is. In others¡­¡± Matt shrugged. ¡°If you are sure the well is fine, why would you go to the trouble of boiling it? Never mind that the same corruption in the river can just as easily flow through the soil to your well.¡± He looked at Gorfeld, who was looking back and forth from the holes to the river. ¡°Gorfeld, how many times has Redspire been afflicted by plague? Especially things like dysentery or cholera?¡±

    The Imp looked uncertain. ¡°I am¡­unfamiliar with those names, sire.¡±

    ¡°You might know them by the symptoms instead. Diarrhea, vomiting, weakness, and death. Usually within a very short time.¡±

    Understanding dawned in the Imp¡¯s eyes. ¡°It sounds like the pale drips.¡± He glanced at the Wizard before responding. ¡°We suffer from it often, though it only grows bad every other year. One of our Rulers actually died from it a few years ago.¡±

    Parufeth¡¯s eyes had narrowed. ¡°We have something like that up in the Small Heights as well. The poor fools just can¡¯t manage to drink enough water and keep enough food in them to survive.¡± He glanced at the river, his eyes suddenly worried. ¡°You¡¯re saying it¡¯s in the water?¡±

    ¡°I am.¡± Matt pointed at the river. ¡°Any time some animal dies upstream, or a lazy butcher dumps his leavings there, or some sick fool looses his bowls in the river, the rest of us are at risk. I don¡¯t know about you, but I¡¯d rather not shit myself to death because I took a drink of bad water.¡±

    The Gnome grunted, and the lifeguards muttered to each other. Gorfeld nodded slowly, but Paralus folded his arms and frowned. ¡°How to avoid it, then? It seems to be a natural fact of life. Something that must be endured.¡±

    ¡°Tradition would certainly seem to suggest that, yes.¡± Matt met the Wizard¡¯s eyes, and then looked back at the pits. ¡°The work we are doing here is going to be the answer.¡±

    He pointed. ¡°Once the pits are deep enough, we¡¯ll start walling them in with brick. We¡¯ll make it watertight, except for one watertight pipe that stretches down the tunnel to a place deep beneath the city. Then we¡¯ll fill in the pit. First with gravel, then with sand, then finer sand, until they are nearly half full.¡±

    Matt turned, letting his finger trace a straight path out to the river. ¡°Once that is done, and the pipe leading beneath the city is complete, we¡¯ll dig a channel that leads from the river to the pit. We¡¯ll let the water filter into the pit, washing over it. When it filters through the sand and stone, it will bring creatures with it, creatures that eat the corruption that sickens us. After a few days, those creatures will make their homes in the sand, devouring the foulness in our water.¡±

    Gorfeld¡¯s head snapped around, the Imp¡¯s eyes sharp. ¡°And the water that filters through it will be clean.¡±

    Grinning like a teacher with a favorite student, Matt nodded. ¡°Exactly correct. It¡¯s called a slow sand filter, and it will make the water as pure as a mountain stream. Better, actually.¡± He looked back toward Redspire. ¡°The pipe beneath the city will lead to a wide, watertight space we¡¯ll call the Great Cistern, where we can store it. From there, we¡¯ll build more pipes leading to the wells of the city. From then on, no matter what else happens, the people of Redspire will be free of those diseases. The pale drips, as you call it, will nothing but a memory. First here in Redspire, and then in every city I can reach.¡±

    When he turned back around, the others were now openly staring at him. He spread his arms wide. ¡°So what would you call a project like this one? What name would you give it?¡±

    There was silence. Then Parufeth grinned. ¡°A hard day¡¯s work, I¡¯d say. What mere shoveler can say they killed off a disease?¡±

    ¡°A miracle. A work of magic unseen.¡± Paralus seemed equal parts in awe and fear. The Wizard was looking back and forth from the river to the holes, his mouth working as if he was having trouble finding the words he needed.

    Then Gorfeld spoke, his voice quiet. ¡°What would you call it, sire?¡±

    ¡°The only thing I can.¡± Matt turned back to the holes, where the laborers were continuing to dig. ¡°A good start.¡±

    It was hard to remember that confidence a few hours later.

    Part of it was the weather. As they were riding back into the city, the clouds gathered overhead. By the time they reached the edge of Redspire, the chill water was starting to come down. There was one final gust of wind, a scattering of raindrops. Then it started to downpour, a heavy, pounding rain that quickly turned the streets to rivers of mud and soaked him through to the skin almost immediately.

    Paralus had broken off almost immediately, obviously ready to seek refuge in the small apartments that Matt had given him in the palace. The guards and Gorfeld, on the other hand, followed him back to his own part of the palace, not even bothering to shake off their cloaks. Apparently the lifeguards were just as dedicated to his safety as Gorfeld was to making sure that his king wasn¡¯t left alone with them. It would have been hard to avoid noticing the suspicious looks between the steward and the soldiers. He wondered for a brief moment which was more trustworthy.

    As he entered his study, Matt swept the cloak from his shoulders and hung it from the nearby rack. He shook himself like a dog, shivering a little as the cold air touched his wet clothes. ¡°Well then. At least we have impressed our visitor from the Coalition.¡±

    ¡°Not just him, sire.¡± Gorfeld was shaking out his own coat, shivering only a little as he took up his spot near the door. ¡°The workmen were listening as well as the Wizard. I doubt that Parufeth will have them stop, even in this weather. They will see it done.¡±

    ¡°Good.¡± Matt slumped down into his seat with a sigh. ¡°Now, we have the Council dealt with. The waterworks are on schedule. What¡¯s next on our list?¡±

    Gorfeld blinked, his eyes going slightly vague. ¡°The representatives of the Low Folk are going to be waiting for you. After that, I believe the captain of the High Guard whose men remained near the city wishes to speak to you.¡± The steward paused. ¡°I believe that some Speakers are also waiting for your attention as well. You ordered them gathered before you left on the campaign?¡±

    ¡°Ah, that¡¯s right.¡± Matt put a hand over his eyes for one moment. The meeting with the Low Folk was almost as important as the one with the Council. If he could keep the people of Redspire under control and productive, it would create a ripple effect for the rest of the Kingdom. Convincing the Low Folk leaders here to trust him would go a long way to maintaining that control, especially since he could explain the power he¡¯d just entrusted them with through the appointment of Voices.

    He took the hand away from his eyes. ¡°Go and get some fresh clothes on. I will too. I¡¯ll meet you at the Low Council room in thirty minutes. Have the captain brought to me another¡­hour after that.¡±

    ¡°Yes, sire.¡±

    Matt turned back to his closet. He knew there would be warm clothing there, something that he¡¯d need for the next few hours. The last thing his people needed was to see their king as a half-drowned rat.

 B1Ch15: Learning Magic

    What seemed like an eternity later, Matt sat on the throne. He¡¯d decided that even though a conference room or his study would be sufficient for meetings with the Low Folk, something a bit more formal was called for when he was going to be talking to someone who would be searching him for signs of weakness. Just to make sure that his message came across well, he was resting one hand on the handle of his mace, the flanged head grounded on the floor at his feet.

    The door at the far end of the throne room opened, and two guards led Lord Melren inside. Matt thought he recognized one of them as a soldier of the Eighth Spears, though it wasn¡¯t Nikles. He nodded to them, and they stepped away, leaving their prisoner alone in the throne room with him.

    Well, not quite alone. His faithful bodyguards still stood in the corners of the room, ready to respond if the High Imp made any threatening moves. Given the lack of arms or armor, Matt doubted there was any chance of that. He¡¯d even forced the lord to wear magebinding cuffs as well, so there wouldn¡¯t be any magic tricks involved either.

    Melren appeared far more confident than Tek ever had, however. Where the former High Imp chieftain had been bowed with age and gnarled with hatred, this lord stood up straight and met Matt¡¯s eyes with a firm look. Matt studied him a moment, seeing his military bearing and the lack of hostility in his expression. There was a hint of defiance, but he thought it might be more that the High Imp was refusing to give into despair than he was trying to put on any show of rebellion.

    After a long moment of silence, Matt gestured for the High Imp to approach. Melren nodded, marching quickly into the space before the throne. He bowed deeply from the hip before straightening up and looking Matt in the eye. ¡°My liege, I am grateful that you have chosen to hear my petition.¡±

    ¡°It is my responsibility as King to determine who is and who is not a threat to my Kingdom, Lord Melren. This interview is to decide whether you stand among our enemies or among my friends. Do you understand?¡±

    Melren nodded, his jaw working for a moment. ¡°I understand, my liege. The reasons for your mistrust are not unfounded.¡±

    ¡°I know.¡± Matt let the statement hang in the air for a pair of heartbeats before he continued. ¡°After all, testimony from both your fellow captains and the traitor Tek indicates that you knew about the plan to destroy both me and the banners that were with me. If I had not anticipated that betrayal, then this Kingdom would be in dire straits, with both Itrelia¡¯s rebels and the Noble Races poised for our destruction.¡±

    Matt leaned forward, his eyes intent on the nobleman. ¡°Explain, then, why I should ignore that fact and accept you into my service again.¡±

    The High Imp did not respond immediately. Instead, Melren spent a few heartbeats swallowing and looking away. When he looked up again, his expression had grown determined. ¡°My liege, what I would encourage you to remember is the timeline of these events. While yes, I did know of the plot, I did not find out about it until over a full day after your departure. Any attempt to warn you would certainly have arrived late. I had no chance to fulfill my oaths of allegiance to you.¡±

    Matt tilted his head to one side. ¡°Yet you could have chosen to avenge me. Even if I had been taken or killed, you could have exposed or killed the traitor whose actions led to my death.¡±

    ¡°My liege, I commanded only a single banner. If I had attempted to act against Lord Tek alone, I would not have had much of a chance to succeed.¡± Melren looked down. ¡°Even if I had been able to do so, I did not know what the situation would be to our east. If you had been killed, and the enemy was at our gates¡­¡±

    Melren seemed to struggle with himself for a moment. Then he sighed a little, and met Matt¡¯s eyes again. This time, there was defiance in his stare. ¡°For the safety of my people, it would have been my responsibility to back the usurper. The just reward for his actions would have needed to wait until the threat had been dealt with.¡±

    Matt waited for the nobleman to continue, but Melren appeared to have finished his defense. ¡°You say this, knowing that Tek would have been responsible for that situation?¡±

    ¡°I do, my liege.¡± Melren shook his head. ¡°It would not have sat well with me, but not all of the choices we make in this world are pleasant ones. If a bastard like Tek had taken the throne with treachery, he would not have been the first to do so¡ªand if I had killed him, who would have led the defense of Redspire? I doubt I would have survived to do so. Not with one banner against two.¡±

    The nobleman fell silent again, his shoulders slumping slightly. He turned away, facing the red stained windows that dominated the throne room wall. ¡°I will not say that my actions were the right ones, my liege. I know that they were not perfect, but I feel I did the best I could in a poor situation. If you will hold me accountable for those choices, I will not protest. I only ask that you spare my men and accept them into your service. You will need them in the coming days, and¡­they deserve the chance to defend their homeland. Please do not send them away.¡±

    Matt watched him a moment longer, seeing the regret and resignation on Melren¡¯s face. He could feel the lifeguards watching as well. They were weighing the conversation, and he knew the details would eventually filter their way back to not just the nobles, but the soldiers as well. If he spared the nobleman, would the soldiers view it as a favor to them, or a favor given to a spoiled lordling? Would the nobility see it as a weakness, or a sign of mercy? If he executed Melren, would the people see it as needless cruelty, or simple justice?

    The questions chased themselves around in his head for a moment longer. He eventually dismissed them. It wouldn¡¯t be entirely possible to know ahead of time how others would judge his actions, and counting on people to react in a particular way was a swift road to tragedy. Better, then, to ask himself what he wanted from this situation. What legacy did he hope to instill in his reign?

    His answer came echoing back to him, and Matt smiled a little. He pushed himself up and out of his throne, bringing his mace up to swing lightly from his hand. ¡°Lord Melren, the troops you commanded were primarily users of magic, correct?¡±

    Melren turned from the window to look back at Matt. His eyes caught the sight of the mace in Matt¡¯s hand, and his expression grew dark and unhappy. He still answered, however, in the voice of someone that already seemed to be expecting the worst. ¡°Yes, my liege. They specialize in fighting enemy mages, especially Knights or Wizards. They are capable mages themselves, and among our best.¡±

    ¡°It would be a shame to lose their loyalty, then.¡± Matt nodded to himself as he walked up beside the captain, joining him in his study of the window. He could almost sense the guards growing tense, as if they were expecting Melren to make a move. Given that the High Imp was bound and disarmed, Matt didn¡¯t think it was likely, but he respected their diligence.

    He looked out the window for a few moments, and then turned to Melren. ¡°I believe you are sincere, Lord Melren. You were presented with as foul a situation as anyone ever could face, but you acted as you saw fit in defense of the people.¡±

    Melren looked back at him. Some of the tension went out of the High Imp¡¯s shoulders, and he bowed slightly. ¡°Thank you, sire.¡±

    ¡°Unfortunately, I cannot allow anyone to challenge my rule. Not while I reign, and not for even what they believe are good reasons.¡± Matt turned back to the window. ¡°I cannot allow a peer of the realm to betray me, even by mistake, without suffering for it.¡±

    This time, Melren¡¯s answer took longer to arrive. ¡°I¡­understand, my liege. I am ready for your judgement.¡±

    ¡°Are you?¡± Matt glanced at him. ¡°To try you, I would need to bring you before the Grand Council. Doing so will cause some dissension there, for they will see, as I do, that you are a good man. That despite your flaws, you deserve some measure of clemency. Clemency that I cannot give.¡±

    Matt turned away and walked back towards the center of the room. He gestured casually with the mace in his hand. ¡°At the same time, I need unity within the Council. We have trials ahead that we still need to face, and I am reluctant to divide them now. Especially since I will have need of your men.¡±

    He stopped in the middle of the room, turning back to Melren with the mace pointing at him. ¡°So I will offer you a choice, Lord Melren, and allow you to decide where your honor lies. You can accept the judgement of the Grand Council, and likely be condemned to death for your actions. In doing so, you will stain not only your own honor, but you will endanger the people that you risked yourself to protect.¡±

    Then he lowered the mace. ¡°Your other choice is to abandon your titles. To stop being Lord Melren and choose to swear yourself to my service as a freeholder. You will surrender your command of the High Guard, and become an advisor rather than a commander. Your family will come here to live, the majority of your property will be sold, and any serfs that owe you their service will become your equals as freeholders. In this way, you can continue to serve the Kingdom, and at the cost of your title, you can redeem your honor.¡±

    Melren stared at him, obviously stricken. Matt smiled in sympathy and shrugged. ¡°What is your decision, Lord Melren?¡±

    The High Imp did not answer immediately. In fact, it took nearly a minute of silence before the struggling nobleman managed to respond. ¡°It is¡­not an easy thing you ask, my liege. To give up the titles my family have earned, that have defined us¡­¡±

    ¡°What is lost can be regained. So long as there is life, there is hope.¡± Matt gestured with his mace again, as if to take in the entire city beyond the windows. ¡°And what good are titles if honor does not accompany them?¡±

    Melren turned and stared back out the windows. He seemed entranced by the sight of Redspire below them, even tinted by the stained glass. ¡°You really believe you can save them, sire? That our Kingdom can be preserved?¡±

    Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

    ¡°I do.¡± Matt kept his voice firm. There was no room for quibbling, not now. ¡°All they need is the chance, and good men and women to lead them.¡±

    The nobleman bowed his head. ¡°Then I will accept my liege. I commit myself to your service for the rest of my life.¡±

    Matt nodded. ¡°Then I will publish the decree immediately. I welcome you to my retinue, Melren. Let us work for the good of the Kingdom, for the rest of my reign.¡±

    Melren¡¯s shoulders slumped again. He recognized a measure of grief in that stance, as well as a fair amount of relief. Given that the High Imp had to have expected death for his mistakes, it must have been baffling to see the change in his life¡¯s course. Then he turned and dropped to one knee. ¡°I live to serve, my liege. What is your command?¡±

    ¡°Well, first I¡¯ll need to summon my steward to handle the details. After that, however¡­¡± Matt smiled. ¡°I think it is time someone started to teach me about magic.¡±

    Matt fell into his bed with a quiet groan.

    He¡¯d have thought that things would be less exhausting in his capital than they had been riding around in enemy territory, but he had been incredibly mistaken. A part of him was actually longing for the chance to ride out again, if only to avoid the parade of meetings, interviews, and decisions that he¡¯d had to go through in just a single day.

    Of course, part of it was his fault for leaving the capital for so long to begin with. A lot of the things he¡¯d needed to care for had been decisions which had piled up in his absence. He probably wouldn¡¯t need to execute a traitor in the middle of the Grand Council every day, for example, but that didn¡¯t mean that the Kingdom wasn¡¯t going to come up with some new way to torment him as the days wore on.

    At the same time, there were several bonuses to sleeping in the palace rather than in the mud in the wilderness somewhere. For one, he had an actual bed to fall into, with a mattress and pillows and everything. So there was that.

    Matt rolled over to stare up at the ceiling. He¡¯d already survived for well over a month at this point, but he wondered how things were going to go in the near future. Winter was coming, and he had no doubt that it would bring its own problems, but he also knew it would give him time to plan. To prepare for the storm he knew would come in the spring. If he could manage to survive past that¡­

    His plans and the problems that went along with them were still whirling through his head when sleep took him.

    The next day dawned far too early, with a diffident knock at Matt¡¯s door.

    He jerked awake with sudden panic, expecting a howling warband of Knights, Elves, and Wizards to burst through the door and drag him from his bed. When nothing greeted him but a dim autumn morning, he half-fell back into the bed with a groan. The knock at the door repeated, slightly louder, and Matt put a hand over his eyes. ¡°One moment. I¡¯ll be right there.¡±

    Struggling to get out of his bed, Matt grabbed at a robe and belted it on. He staggered over to the door, the stiffness of sleep robbing him of his dexterity. When he reached the door, he took a moment to check for his mace, which he had left leaning up against the wall. It wasn¡¯t the best defensive weapon, but it would give him something to swing at least.

    He opened the door carefully, trying to stand in a way that would limit anyone trying to stab at him through the opening. ¡°Yes?¡±

    Gorfeld stood outside the door, already dressed and almost offensively alert. He bowed slightly. ¡°Good morning to you, sire. Are you ready to begin your day?¡±

    The steward glanced slightly behind him, and Matt followed the hint. He saw a small band of Goblins, Imps, and Orcs waiting. They wore servants¡¯ uniforms, and were wielding a terrifying amount of clothing, brushes, and other implements. It appeared the palace staff was done with allowing him to care for himself.

    He weighed trying to refuse for a moment. After all, they were servants; he didn¡¯t need to worry about their feelings and opinions. At the same time, more kings died to supposedly unimportant people who happened to have access to their food and bedchambers than history liked to admit. Was that risk worth the chance to dress and groom himself?

    Matt sighed. ¡°Give me a moment. I¡¯ll be right out.¡±

    He tried not to notice Gorfeld¡¯s smirk as he closed the door. One day, he was going to ¡®reward¡¯ his steward with something unpleasant. Not now, but soon.

    ¡°Magic is a difficult discipline to master, but the rewards are well worth the cost.¡±

    Matt struggled to focus. His body already ached in a dozen different places. Now that he had returned to the city, Gorfeld had encouraged him to resume his training with Sergeant Nikles and the others, which had resulted in an early morning ride over to the barracks. While he¡¯d been happy to see that the Orc had survived the chaos in Redspire, Nikles had been just as happy to pummel him half-senseless. The bruises and soreness were terribly familiar, but having been in actual combat, Matt knew it would keep him alive just that much longer.

    After that, he¡¯d met again with the Low Folk Assembly, as well as making the announcement of Melren¡¯s conditional pardon to the Grand Council. The noblemen had received the news of the demotion of one of their peers with some uneasiness, but Lord Torth had led the chamber in applauding the move. There had been a few other matters of business while he¡¯d overseen them, just appointments for various positions as magistrates and officers, but nothing that he thought had been very concerning.

    Now, though, he¡¯d finally reserved an hour or two for his newest area of concern. Unfortunately, his fatigue was making it hard to pay attention to whatever academic nonsense that Melren was saying. They¡¯d met in a small classroom of sorts, with a handful of writing desks and a slate chalkboard that Melren was using to scribble some arcane diagrams with unfamiliar notation. It might as well have been actual Greek to Matt, for all he could understand it.

    The disgraced High Imp paused mid-sketch, as if sensing a problem. He glanced at Gorfeld, who was watching the proceedings with interest. ¡°Is there some problem, my liege? If this would be better heard at another time¡­¡±

    ¡°No, no, I apologize.¡± Matt sighed. ¡°There are just a lot of things on my mind. Let¡¯s continue.¡±

    Melren nodded uncertainly, glancing at Gorfeld again. The steward made an encouraging gesture, and the former lord nodded. ¡°Perhaps it would be best to focus on fundamentals. As you know, the source of your magic is just as important as your skill. If you draw from a¡ª¡±

    Matt¡¯s eyes suddenly narrowed. He gestured for Melren to pause. ¡°One second. Where does the magic come from?¡±

    Melren blinked. ¡°Your pardon, my liege?¡±

    ¡°I come from a world where magic doesn¡¯t exist, Melren. At least, not in any important way.¡± Matt grimaced. ¡°If the source of magic is important, then I guess knowing a bit more about how it all works would be a good point to start.¡±

    ¡°I¡­see.¡± Melren passed for a few moments, his head bowed in concentration. When he looked up again, there was a bit of humor in his expression. ¡°Now it makes sense why you didn¡¯t understand earlier, my liege. I apologize for not realizing the issue.¡±

    Matt waved away the apology, and Melren turned back to the slate board mounted on the wall. He reached up and scrubbed the chalk outlines from the board. When he took up the chalk again, he held it loosely for a moment. ¡°Let¡¯s see. Simple, fundamental¡­¡±

    He reached up and sketched out a brief square on the board, anchoring the corners with four different symbols. ¡°The first and most fundamental source of magic comes from the Wheel of Elements. They consist of Fire, Earth, Water, and Air.¡±

    Matt nodded. So far, it seemed relatively familiar.

    Melren stepped to the side, and drew a circle, with another four symbols anchoring it. ¡°These Elements are then modified by the Seasons. Spring, Summer, Autumn, and Winter.¡±

    He nodded again, slower this time. The combination of Season with Element meant there were sixteen different combinations. Definitely more complicated, but not too bad. At least it wasn¡¯t as bad as a periodic table.

    Then the High Imp stepped further to the side and began a triangle. This time, there were symbols on each corner, and a fourth in the middle. ¡°In addition, there are the four Aspects. Body, Mind, Heart, and Soul. Each of these can be used in conjunction with the Seasons and Elements in order to construct a Spell or Enchantment.¡±

    Matt felt a dull ache start to form behind his eyes. Sixteen variations were one thing; sixty-four was quite something else. No wonder it had been confusing before.

    Below the three shapes, Melren began a new sketch, drawing a triangle, then a circle around it, then a square around both. ¡°Taken together¡ªElement, Season, Aspect¡ªthey are then referred to as your Source. The foundation, so to speak, of your power.¡±

    The headache was getting a little worse. ¡°So how do you access the different Sources? Is there a trick to it?¡±

    Melren looked back at him in surprise. ¡°Before you can access a Source, you must first build that Source within yourself. It isn¡¯t as simple as just reaching out and grasping the powers of the world. You must develop the part of yourself that harmonizes with them.¡±

    He turned back to the board and scratched out a list alongside the three-shapes-in-one. ¡°To build a Source, you must practice the mantras associated with it. Each mantra can shape the resulting Source, starting with the Element, then the Season, then the Aspect. Once you have built the Source has within you, you must maintain and fortify it. Otherwise, it may fail you when you try to use it for a Spell. Such failures are¡­ unpleasant.¡±

    Matt grunted. The way Melren had said that last part made it seem rather lethal. Not a good idea to rush the process, then. ¡°So I assume that the stronger your Source, the better the Spells you can use will be?¡±

    ¡°Exactly.¡± Melren underlined the first three items of the list, then added another. ¡°If you intend to use magic regularly, you must take care to build this foundation well. Once you construct it, however, there are a number of ways you can use it. Learning the associated Spell Chants will then allow you to have access to those skills. They also require strict memorization; altering a Spell Chant can also lead to unfortunate results.¡±

    ¡°I see.¡± Matt studied the list carefully. ¡°Is there a way to figure out what kind of Spell Chants are available for each Source?¡±

    ¡°Every mage has their own list of Spell Chants. Researching new ones is a delicate and dangerous art; new Spells are often heavily guarded.¡± Melren grimaced. ¡°In fact, Wizards often base their power on what Spells their Order has mastered and shared, and spreading knowledge of any but the most basic is considered treason.¡±

    ¡°So we¡¯ll only have access to certain ones, then. Even then, I can imagine that many of the noble houses tend to keep their Chants secret unless they have to reveal them.¡± Matt glanced at Gorfeld, who nodded.

    ¡°This is true, my liege.¡± Melren smiled. ¡°Of course, as the King, you have access to any Spell Chants that your subjects have available. I would encourage you to study which ones you wish to master and then build your Sources based on that.¡±

    Matt frowned, studying the board. ¡°How long does it take to form a Source? Is there any limit on how many you can make?¡±

    Melren glanced at Gorfeld again, his expression suddenly unreadable. ¡°It depends on the person, and the access that they have to the underlying Mana of the world. Most Low Folk have barely enough Mana for a single Source, if they have any at all. More noble houses tend to enjoy access to much greater amounts of Mana, and as a result have far greater abilities in Magic.¡±

    Matt felt his frown grow deeper. Something about that statement felt wrong. ¡°Are you sure about that, Melren? Have you experienced any reduction in Mana without your title?¡±

    The former nobleman blinked, before frowning as well. ¡°No, my liege, but I retain my noble lineage in my blood, at least. It would not be a surprise to find that I retain my magical abilities.¡±

    It still seemed wrong to him. ¡°Have there been any experiments with this theory?¡±

    The Imps exchanged another baffled look. ¡°Experiments, my liege?¡±

    ¡°Have they ever taken a member of the Low Folk and a member of the nobility, and then given them the same access to time and knowledge to see which one manages to build more Sources?¡±

    There was a moment of silence. Melren and Gorfeld looked at one another. This time, their expressions were very different. The former nobleman looked uncertain and worried; the steward looked curiously defiant and resentful. When Melren responded this time, his obvious unhappiness was clear. ¡°No, my liege. We have not.¡±

    Matt sat back in his seat. For him, at least, it was fairly clear exactly how magic had ended up mostly in noble hands. He could be wrong, but he¡¯d bet that the average serf had less time to practice the endless mantras compared to their noble masters¡ªand it was fairly clear that likely had more to do with it than the power of noble blood. ¡°Thank you, Melren. Please continue.¡±

    His mind already spinning with plans, Matt settled in for the rest of his magic lesson. He still had plenty of work to do.

 B1Ch16: Hasty Accusations

    To Matt¡¯s surprise, it took nearly three days for everything to go downhill yet again.

    It wasn¡¯t as if he was unoccupied during those three days. Between supervising the laborers, walking through the city, and pouring over the maps of the Kingdom, he had plenty to keep him busy. Adding in his renewed sparring sessions with Nikles and what seemed like the rest of the Eighth, magic lessons with Melren, and meetings with both the Grand Council and the Low Folk, it seemed like he was running from sunup until sundown every day. He was barely able to collect his own thoughts, though at the very least Gorfeld was there to help manage things.

    Of course, none of that helped the day the messenger arrived.

    It started out as normal as the other days had. He¡¯d already had a bout of practice with the Eighth, as well as an exhausting session of mantras with Melren. The Grand Council had informed him they were debating additional measures for the upcoming muster, and he had attended to make sure they didn¡¯t adopt any measures that were too extreme. After all, the first Voices were still being appointed by Assemblies of freeholders who were still getting used to their roles. It would be a little while yet before he would be able to set out again and trust the freeholders to keep the nobles in check.

    He was mostly quiet during the debate, letting the nobility voice their concerns and vent their frustrations with one another. It seemed like Lord Torth was leading at least one faction, one that wanted to raise more nobility-led troops rather than relying on freeholder conscripts. It was hard to tell whether or not the High Imp was looking for more power and influence within the military, or simply thought that the nobles produced better fighters than the former serfs.

    Matt was still debating whether ambition or prudence guided the nobleman when there was a sudden loud chime at the door. It was the announcer¡¯s bell, used to draw the attention of the Council to the presence of a new arrival. He sat up in his seat, his eyes going to the entrance, where a newcomer was being ushered through by the guards.

    They wore Orcish dueling armor, though it was obvious that the gear had seen better days. He felt a burst of sympathy for the newcomer as he saw the broken spikes and mud from long days on the road. Clearly, whoever it was had ridden hard to reach Redspire. Still, they did not reveal any fatigue as they handed over their broadsword to the guards and strode into the middle of the Council chambers. As they stopped in the middle of the floor, they reached up and removed their helmet.

    It was a female Orc, one who had seen battle. In addition to the old scar that marked her cheek, she bore another more recent cut across her forehead, one that still bore the marks of battlefield stitches. Her hair was dark, cut to a shoulder length and gathered into a rough tail. She looked around the chamber, her eyes measuring the gathered nobility with both challenge and anger in her stare. When she turned her attention on Matt, he felt suddenly glad that she had left her weapon at the door.

    ¡°My fellow peers, I must beg your pardon for interrupting your¡­work today.¡± Her voice was harsh, and her stance suggested she was ready for a possible attack¡ªwhether verbal or physical, Matt couldn¡¯t tell. ¡°I had urgent business here with our ruler, and could not afford to wait.¡±

    Lord Torth stood. His voice was smooth and calm. ¡°Lady Einreth, your presence here, while unexpected, is certainly still welcome. You have our sympathies for the loss of Lord Braden. He fought bravely on behalf of the Kingdom.¡±

    Matt nodded, realizing who the Orc must be. Braden¡¯s death had left room for a new head of his House, and Lady Einreth, his sister, must have taken his place. He didn¡¯t know much of her, but Gorfeld¡¯s information suggested that she was far more warlike and blunt than her brother had been. Whispers around the court spoke of violent confrontations and shouting, an instability that Matt wasn¡¯t looking forward to managing when it came from the chief noblewoman of the Red Moon Orcs.

    Einreth acknowledged Torth with a brief bow of her head. ¡°My thanks to you, Lord Torth. I hope you do not take offense if I come to the point of my return to Redspire?¡± The High Imp noble gestured graciously for her to continue, and Einreth nodded. She turned back to Matt. ¡°To business then. King Matthew. It has come to my attention that you executed a traitor to the realm.¡±

    Matt nodded. His fingers drifted down to the handle of his mace, which was still laying against the arm of his chair. ¡°Yes. It was determined that he had plotted to betray not only me, but also many of the soldiers of our Kingdom. His punishment was necessary.¡±

    ¡°I agree.¡± Einreth gave him a grin that Matt could only describe as bloodthirsty. ¡°Such punishments should always be the reward for traitors and assassins. Would you not agree?¡±

    The question set Matt immediately on edge. He thought he could see where she was going with the question, and it was not going to be a comfortable conversation. ¡°As long as their treachery is clear and proven, yes. Do you have an accusation that you intend to level, my lady?¡±

    Einreth paused, as if surprised by his direct response. Then she grinned and nodded. ¡°I do, sire.¡± She looked around the chamber one more time, as if to make sure that the rest of her peers were paying attention. ¡°My brother Braden was wounded during the battles against Lord Teblas. As he lay recovering, a messenger arrived to speak with him. When that messenger reached his tent, they struck at him with a poisoned knife. He died soon afterwards.¡±

    Matt leaned forward, making a bridge with his hands in front of him. ¡°As I had heard, yes. A tragedy, given his efforts on behalf of the Kingdom.¡±

    ¡°A treachery, sire.¡± Einreth took a step forward, and the lifeguards on either side of Matt¡¯s chair tensed as if they expected her to charge forward. ¡°The Goblin who slew my brother was sent by the Lady Suluth. He has admitted this fact under questioning. As such, I accuse her of treachery against the Kingdom, and of the murder of Lord Braden, Defender of the Realm.¡±

    Her words echoed through the chamber, leaving a brief, shocked silence. It was broken a moment later as one of the Blackleaf Goblins shot to her feet. ¡°King Matthew, I protest this, this¡­ outrage! To allow such accusations of Lady Suluth, particularly when she is not present to answer them herself! It is an insult to all of her kinsmen, and to her own efforts in our defense!¡±

    Matt gave the noblewoman a considering look and then turned back to Lady Einreth. The Orc was still staring up at him, her face set in anger and determination. It was not the look of someone willing to back down for the sake of subtle politics. ¡°Lady Einreth, do you still have the assassin?¡±

    She hesitated. ¡°No, sire. He suffered some¡­injuries during his capture and interrogation. As a result, he died before I could return to Redspire.¡±

    ¡°You do, however, have witnesses as to what he said?¡± She nodded, and Matt continued. ¡°I believe the Council will wish to hear their words. It is not as¡­convincing as the assassin¡¯s words themselves, and obtaining a confession by torture is always suspect, but the Council will hear what your people have to say.¡±

    Einreth shifted slightly on her feet. She locked a sullen gaze on him. ¡°The Council? I was under the impression that you were the judge that condemned Lord Tek¡¯s treachery. That it was you who delivered both his judgement and punishment.¡±

    Matt opened his mouth to respond, but Lord Torth came to his feet first. ¡°If I may, sire?¡± The High Imp looked back at Einreth, who gestured impatiently for him to continue. ¡°King Matthew did indeed strike down the traitor¡ªupon this very floor, in fact. However, Tek¡¯s guilt was virtually undeniable, confessed by the mouths of his captains and confirmed by his own testimony. This time, there are more questions about the Lady Suluth¡¯s involvement, so it would be understandable to proceed carefully.¡±

    Einreth snorted. She glanced back at Matt before glaring at Torth. ¡°A weak excuse. My brother lies cold in the ground, and you shield his murderer with these feeble arguments?¡±

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    ¡°It is not her alone that we protect, Lady Einreth.¡± Matt kept his voice even. ¡°We would want any who stand accused of a crime to enjoy such privileges. After all, if some ambitious peer among your clan were to accuse you of treason, you would wish to have some kind of appeal before your execution, would you not?¡±

    Einreth opened her mouth for a retort and then appeared to reconsider her words. She shifted her stance again, staring around at the Council. Her jaw clenched slightly, and she turned back to him. ¡°I understand, sire. All the same, I remain sure of my accusation. Lady Suluth has betrayed us, and I call on you to give my brother the justice he was denied.¡±

    Matt nodded. There was no choice now. ¡°Your accusation has been heard, Lady Einreth, and we will see justice done.¡± He raised his voice slightly. ¡°As such, we will summon Lady Suluth to Redspire, to make an answer to these claims. The Grand Council will hear her defense, and judgement will be served. Until then, Lady Einreth, if you would accompany me? I believe we have much to discuss.¡±

    He stood and waited as the rest of the chamber followed suit. Einreth looked around in surprise and then sketched a brief bow. Matt ignored her, picked up his mace, and strode out of the room. She rose and trailed after him, pausing only to take back her sword from the door guards. His lifeguard followed after them, but Matt was too busy thinking to pay any of them much attention. His mind was whirling with calculations. There had to be some way to salvage the situation. There had to be.

    ¡°With all due respect, Lady Einreth, you are either a fool or an enemy. Which is it?¡±

    Einreth¡¯s head snapped around. She had been standing in Matt¡¯s study at attention, her eyes locked on some distant point. Now she was glaring at him with the kind of expression that made Matt momentarily grateful for the guards still standing unobtrusively in the corners of the room. ¡°Excuse me, sire?¡±

    In any other situation, that tone of voice would have made Matt reconsider his approach. At the moment, however, he was past caring. ¡°I think you heard me just fine.¡± He gestured in the vague direction of the Grand Council room. ¡°Did you really think that I didn¡¯t suspect that Lady Suluth had murdered your brother?¡±

    She took a moment to respond, her jaw clenching. ¡°I do not know what you believed about it, sire. I only know what I knew.¡±

    ¡°Oh, come on.¡± Matt stalked around to the other side of his writing desk, his fingers still wrapped around the mace in his hand. ¡°A Goblin messenger kills him? When it was obvious that both Braden and Suluth considered themselves rivals for the throne? You really think I wouldn¡¯t have suspected the lady in charge of the largest Goblin House was trying to reduce the number of competitors for power?¡±

    Einreth blinked. Her outraged expression faded slightly. When she answered, it was in a tone that was far more unnerved than angry. ¡°I¡­was unaware that my brother had wanted to¡ª¡±

    ¡°Oh, bullshit.¡± Matt brought his mace up and smacked the writing table with the head¡ªhard enough to make noise, but not enough to actually do any damage. ¡°There¡¯s no way that he would have kept you in the dark, and it¡¯s no surprise that he would have wanted to challenge anyone who took the throne after the Red Sorceress. He might have even been preparing to overthrow her, so rising up against an outsider like me? It would have been a foregone conclusion.¡±

    Matt fell into his seat behind the writing desk, putting a hand over his eyes. ¡°He probably really wanted to beat Teblas and return to Redspire as a hero. He could have used that victory as leverage against me with the other nobles and the people. Not the worst plan, especially if I turned out to be incompetent enough to let it happen.¡±

    The noblewoman seemed mildly stunned. She was still searching for a response when a knock sounded at the door. Matt gave her a stern look and then gestured for one of the guards to open the door.

    Gorfeld poked his head through the opening, taking in the state of the room. He looked at Matt with a curious tilt of his head. ¡°Is there anything that you and Lady Einreth require, sire?¡±

    Matt grinned at the Low Imp. It was fairly obvious that Gorfeld wanted to be in the room for the conversation; the steward would likely have already been waiting for them if he had heard about the Grand Council meeting soon enough. ¡°No, Gorfeld. I just need to talk with Lady Einreth about what the future holds. Please wait outside until I am done.¡±

    The Imp seemed to struggle a bit with the dismissal. Then he bowed and retreated, closing the door behind him.

    When Matt turned back to the noblewoman, Einreth appeared to have recovered her balance. ¡°Sire, if you suspected my brother of such plans, then why¡­¡±

    ¡°Why did I send him south in the first place?¡± Matt shrugged. ¡°You work with the tools you have. I didn¡¯t think that Suluth or Braden were particularly loyal, but they could give Teblas and the Alliance just as many problems as they gave me. At the same time, I hoped that they would balance each other out, and keep each other¡¯s ambitions in check.¡± He grimaced. ¡°I didn¡¯t expect Suluth to be quite that obvious, however. That was a mistake.¡±

    Einreth¡¯s chin came up a little. ¡°A mistake that cost my brother his life.¡±

    Matt nodded. ¡°Yes. It did.¡± He gestured to her. ¡°However, your mistake is going to cost quite a few more than just one man¡¯s life. By accusing Suluth openly, before I had her in custody, you may have given her no option but to come out in open rebellion against the Kingdom. If she succeeds, she could take the Darkwood with her, along with all the forces and nobility there. It would mean that the Sortenmoors are lost and make it that much harder to stop Teblas and the Alliance. It also means that I can¡¯t just arrest and kill her the way I did with Tek. I¡¯ll have to kill a lot of her soldiers first, soldiers we¡¯re going to need if we want to survive the year.¡±

    The defiance in Einreth¡¯s expression faded as his words went home. He watched the flame of anger start to flicker and disappear as the consequences of her action went home. Matt waited a moment longer, until she began to shift on her feet, and then spoke again. ¡°So the only question that I have is, did you mean for that to happen? Or did you do it by accident?¡±

    Einreth lifted her head and met his eyes again, her expression slightly stunned. ¡°What do you mean?¡±

    Matt spread his arms wide. ¡°Well, did you mean to drive Suluth to rebel? Did you weaken our Kingdom on purpose, out of an ambition of your own? Or did you just damage our position out of sheer cussed obstinacy and misguided vengeance? Which are you, Einreth, a grieving fool or a maneuvering plotter?¡±

    She rocked back on her feet, her expression becoming unnerved. ¡°I¡­I don¡¯t¡­¡±

    ¡°If you are another schemer, I could use that to my advantage. I could claim that your accusation was just an excuse to get close to me and lock you away in the Tower for trying to challenge me to a duel.¡± Matt tilted his head slightly, studying her. ¡°That might help Suluth get overconfident. Maybe even convince her to come out of hiding enough for me to arrest her as well. Your vengeance would be served, I supposed, though it would cost you your freedom as well. What do you think?¡±

    Einreth blanched. ¡°I am loyal to the Kingdom, sire. I would never betray you.¡±

    ¡°You already have, in a way.¡± Matt tilted his head the other way. ¡°All the same, I¡¯ve already lost one commander. If I were to accuse you of treachery, it might harm morale and relations with the rest of the Red Moon clan, for little to gain. So perhaps I can avoid doing that for now.¡±

    Then he paused. ¡°As long as you don¡¯t intend to give me more trouble. Am I understood?¡±

    The noblewoman stared at him a few moments more. Then her expression grew hard. ¡°You are a tyrant. Just as Braden suspected.¡±

    ¡°I am what the Kingdom has required me to be.¡± Matt met her glare without wavering. ¡°If that means I¡¯m a little harsh on you, it¡¯s because your selfishness has endangered the Kingdom. Can you really complain about that?¡±

    ¡°No, sire.¡± Einreth straightened her posture again, coming back to attention. ¡°I will¡­strive not to cause any more trouble in the Council, sire.¡±

    ¡°I appreciate it.¡± Matt smiled. ¡°Not that I have any intention of giving you the chance. As soon as you recover from your journey, you are to go to Shadeglen, where the remnants of your brother¡¯s army is assembled. I want you to take command, and keep order in the Darkwood. Keep Teblas from advancing north and wait for my arrival in the spring.¡±

    Einreth blinked. She seemed surprised. ¡°You are¡­entrusting me with command?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m staking you out as bait.¡± Matt grinned at her again. ¡°You¡¯ll be deep in Lady Suluth¡¯s home territory. That will irritate her and keep her from raising an effective rebellion until you¡¯re dead. She¡¯ll be a fool if she doesn¡¯t try to have you killed. In fact, she might try to do that before she sends assassins after me.¡± He paused, then leaned forward and tapped on the writing table. ¡°Try not to die, keep the Goblins loyal, and keep the army in order, so it will be ready to push south. Do you have any questions, Lady Einreth?¡±

    She studied him openly now. It was as if he had knocked her so far off balance that she had given up any chance of getting her composure back. ¡°If you knew Braden¡¯s plans, then why did you honor him? Why give him a legacy if he would have denied you yours?¡±

    Matt looked back at her for a moment, trying to put his response into the right words. ¡°Because for all his faults, Braden wanted what was best for the Kingdom. He marched south on my orders, and even in losing to Teblas, he still stalled the rebel¡¯s advance. He earned the title.¡±

    Einreth remained silent for a moment longer, her expression unreadable. Then she bowed. ¡°I will do as you ask, King Matthew. You will see that I am no enemy¡ªand if I get the chance, I will bring Lady Suluth to justice.¡±

    ¡°She must live to see trial, Lady Einreth.¡± When she began to protest, he gave her a stern look. ¡°It will show her hidden crimes in the open, and keep anyone from trying to avenge her. The last thing we need right now is a wasteful feud between your House and hers while the rest of the Kingdom is fighting for its survival.¡±

    Einreth nodded slowly, and Matt gestured for her to withdraw. He watched her go with a wary eye, wondering what other complications could happen in the next few weeks. Hopefully that would be the last bad news before the snows fell. Somehow, though, he doubted he was going to be that lucky.

 B1Ch17: Gathering Threats

    The next couple of days passed by in relative peace. Freeholders were filtering into the city in batches, both in answer to the call for the muster, and in a natural flow of population. Redspire was growing more and more crowded, something that made Matt worry about his food supply. Starvation was a natural event in most medieval societies, but he didn¡¯t want to see half his people starve to death in the capital. Luckily, the wagons bearing grain seemed to be consistently arriving, even if the public granaries was draining his funds at an alarming rate.

    Grain carts weren¡¯t the only thing arriving, however. Cart after cart arrived, each one weighed down with loads of brick, all coming from the Red Moon villages to the west. The pyromancers that Tek had lent him were apparently doing well, helping to bake the clay into more and more building material. Once the excavation for the sand filters and the Great Cistern were done, the work crews would put all that building material to very good use.

    Fortunately, the rain hadn¡¯t slowed that project by very much. The Gnomes had continued to carve their way through the ground at a good pace, and the rest of the laborers were following their example. Parufeth reported the work was still on schedule, and that they expected to lay the foundations for the actual brickwork and terracotta pipes long before the snow began to fall.

    It was watching the Gnomes at their work that gave Matt his inspiration for what he wanted to do in terms of his first Source. Melren was mildly miffed that he insisted on beginning the mantras for a foundation based on Earth¡ªhe got the impression that Imps in general tended to value Fire more than other types of magic¡ªbut the former nobleman was still encouraging, regardless. It was slow work, but hopefully it would bear fruit soon.

    Lady Einreth had left the capital immediately, riding south with the rest of her entourage, but the debates she had left behind in the Grand Council continued. Lord Torth appeared to be using the accusations to browbeat the Goblin nobility into cooperating with his own agendas. Matt was still uncertain about what the Imp was planning, but it appeared to have something to do with centralizing power within some of the judicial Magistrates. He still seemed loyal, however, so Matt didn¡¯t obstruct him. As long as he didn¡¯t gather too much influence, there was no reason to move against the High Imp. Yet.

    Unfortunately, not every bit of news was good. Messengers continued to arrive daily from the Small Heights, reporting small scale skirmishes against Itrelia¡¯s forces. Lord Grufen was still holding the line, though he reported casualties on both sides. It appeared the Frost Elves were still determined to take the Gnomish homeland, however, and there were no signs that the war there was going to end.

    There were other reports from the northern part of the Spirelands. Itrelia seemed understandably reluctant to try harassing the supply lines leading to Greymouth, but that wouldn¡¯t stop her from reaching the outskirts of the capital. He¡¯d already heard reports of villages being raided, with small bands of Frost Elves stealing food and other goods. Some refugees had trickled in, though some of them were families that had seen the possibility of war and were trying to escape it. Matt had no doubt that the raiding would get worse as the weather grew colder.

    Things were even worse down south. Every report that reached him from the Sortenmoors seemed to speak of bloodshed and burning. Lord Teblas was apparently trying to control the region, but the militia that Matt had raised there was just as determined to strike at his flanks and supply train. His retaliatory raids only increased the chaos, however, and the cycle continued to burn and destroy more of the few villages remaining there.

    He''d still heard nothing of the forces that Suluth had led to the Sortenmoors, but at this point it was mostly a relief that she hadn¡¯t somehow joined Teblas. There was no news of the Alliance of Light either. They were still gathering troops, but it seemed more and more likely that they wouldn¡¯t be ready to invade before spring. It gave him a little hope that he could meet them with an army of his own by then. Maybe there would still be a farm, mill, or pasture unburned in the Sortenmoors by the time he got there.

    All those concerns were outweighed by a messenger from Greymouth, however. The Goblin arrived on a near-exhausted Warg, spattered with mud from the road. He came directly to the palace, not even stopping to rest at the barracks, and as soon as he saw the message, Matt understood why. A moment later, he¡¯d asked Gorfeld to summon the captains.

    The Noble Races were regrouping.

    ¡°Greymouth can hold, sire.¡± Captain Worak gestured to the map with confidence. ¡°The enemy might have more troops available, but the fortifications more than outweigh their advantages. If Captain Morteth stays firm, then the enemy will be stuck outside his walls for the entire winter.¡±

    Matt nodded. It was hard to feel that same confidence as he looked at the wooden pieces, marking the last known positions of nearly thirty banners of enemy troops. Morteth had twelve banners at Greymouth; there would be no chance of a breakout stopping them this time.

    Snolt was studying the map as well, his face grim. Whatever bloodlust might have cheered him during their raids had long since disappeared, with his troops now once again a part of the garrison. ¡°There¡¯s no way we¡¯d be able to cut their supply lines this time, my liege. They¡¯re already watching for us.¡±

    ¡°A problem caused by doing our job too well, Captain Snolt.¡± Matt grinned slightly, and the assembled captains chuckled. Other enemy banners had already taken up position at the various exits to passes across the mountains. For now, they appeared to be content watching the passes and waiting for another raid in force like the one Matt had led into their rear. Apparently, Hethwellow and his allies weren¡¯t going to allow him to repeat the same strategy this time.

    ¡°Yet it is still a problem, my liege.¡± Captain Karve folded his arms, looking around at the gathered officers. ¡°While Greymouth may be able to hold out for a significant amount of time, a siege will still force Morteth to surrender. No army, no matter how brave, can fight on an empty stomach for long.¡±

    Matt grimaced. ¡°How many supplies does Morteth have available?¡±

    Gorfeld responded after consulting some notes. ¡°Or last account determined that there should be at least three months of food available. The fortress has its own water supply, thanks to a series of wells, so we need not worry about thirst.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s if some blasted Wizard doesn¡¯t freeze the wells solid, or force them to run dry.¡± Capain Tirez reached over to tap one of the banners gathered east of Greymouth. ¡°The Azure Covenant has plenty of water mages, and the Coven of Gold has more spells than they¡¯ve ever shown to outsiders. We shouldn¡¯t forget that they can do more than just throw fireballs.¡±

    Captain Cors nodded. ¡°The damn Dwarves might just tunnel into Greymouth too. The Sunken Clans might have only sent four banners, but they are expert sappers. They¡¯ll have siege machines and mining equipment. Morteth will be in for more of a fight than the last time, when he was only facing Knights and Elves.¡±

    ¡°Not that there aren¡¯t plenty of those as well.¡± Matt tapped the table softly. ¡°If we lose Greymouth, then the rest of the High Peaks are going to be open for the Noble Races to pillage and burn.¡±

    Cors looked around again. ¡°Which is why we need to reinforce the fortress as soon as possible. If we can stop them there, then we can turn the rest of our forces to face other concerns.¡±

    It was a logical enough response, but something about it felt wrong. Matt stood back from the table, still studying the situation as the captains debated the issue. Putting more soldiers in the garrison would help them hold out against a direct assault, but it would also reduce the amount of time it would take for the enemy to starve the garrison out by siege. Worse, if they lost the fortress anyway, he would have sacrificed that many more valuable soldiers for nothing.

    At the same time, he couldn¡¯t just let three thousand enemy soldiers rampage through his territory. The impact on morale aside, he wouldn¡¯t put it past the enemy to burn every village east of Redspire before coming and putting the capital to siege as well. Was it worth holding them off at Greymouth to keep Redspire from suffering a little longer?

    For now, there wasn¡¯t much he could do, however. Stripping the troops from Redspire would be a good way to let Itrelia, Teblas, or even Suluth make a grab for the capital, and it was going to take time to gather even the freeholder militia he¡¯d called for. In a week or two, he might have the men to reinforce the garrison, but for now he had nothing.

    He nodded to himself. ¡°It looks like the enemy is still gathering their troops. They might be trying to secure more supplies after the disaster they faced last time.¡± The gathered captains chuckled a bit amongst themselves, and Matt smiled. ¡°I would say it will take them at least another week or two before they can move on Greymouth. While they do, we need to get the new troops mustered and trained. I¡¯ll be depending on you to take care of that. Make sure that they are as ready as they can be and prepare to march east. Thank you.¡±

    The captains saluted, and then filtered out of the room. Gorfeld watched them go, waiting until the last one had left the room. He looked at Matt with a solemn glance. ¡°If we wait for them to lay siege to Greymouth¡­¡±

    ¡°We¡¯ll lose. I know.¡± Matt rubbed at the bridge of his nose. There had to be a better plan. He just needed the time to think of it. When he looked up, Gorfeld was still watching him calmly. It took a bit of effort, but he tried to force a smile. ¡°I¡¯ll think of something, Gorfeld. We aren¡¯t beat yet.¡±

    Gorfeld nodded, his expression still sober. ¡°Of course, my liege.¡± The Imp glanced at the map one last time, and then followed the captains out the door, leaving Matt alone with his thoughts.

    Just a short while after his discussion with the captains, Matt found himself in another meeting room with a large number of leaders. These, however, were not military men. Not by a long shot.

    At first glance, it was hard to come up with a label that fit all of them. They certainly weren¡¯t united by species; Gnomes, Goblins, Imps, and Orcs of all kinds were present, though none of them showed the proper posture and upbringing of the nobility. None of them had an agreed-upon wardrobe either. The Goblins wore heavy scarves that nearly obscured their entire faces, while the Imps each seemed to carry a musical instrument of some kind. The Gnomes each held a box that rattled when they moved, and the Orcs all had an elaborately decorated staff, though none of them had the same design.

    All of them were Speakers, the unofficial history-keepers of the people of his realm. The Low Folk respected them, and the nobility held them in contempt. All of them had answered his call to assemble in Redspire. It had taken time for so many of their number to gather in one place; apparently, they were often nomadic in nature, traveling between villages. They did so to avoid having bonds that would keep them riveted in place, but it also had made it hard for his decree to reach them.

    They were here now, however, in a sufficient number that he believed they could form some kind of quorum. At least, that was what he hoped.

    He walked past the restless group of Speakers and took his place at the head of the table. They fell silent rather quickly, showing far less reluctance than the nobles in the Grand Council. Those troublemakers were already beginning to forget the example that Tek had given them; apparently very little could dent the arrogance of a noble prince or princess. The Speakers were Low Folk, however, and they seemed ready to hear whatever he had called them here to say.

    Matt took a moment to look around at them; first impressions were important, and probably most of all with this group. He smiled. ¡°Welcome, all of you, to Redspire. I thank you for answering my call for help, and ask you to please let me know if there is anything I can do to help you feel comfortable over the next few days.¡±

    The words provoked a slight stir among the Speakers, though none of them said anything. Their furtive glances and meaningful gestures said volumes, however. They might not be ready to defy him openly, but they were going to be skeptical of an offer coming from a man on a throne.

    He nodded and continued. ¡°I have asked you here for an important work. As I understand it, it is you Speakers that have preserved the stories, culture, and beliefs of the people of my realm. Is this accurate?¡±

    The question hung in the air for several moments. An Imp raised a hand from the drum she set before her on the table. ¡°I understand that among the nobility there are many scribes that are skilled in writing. They may have more knowledge of the past, sire.¡±

    A murmur of agreement went through the Speakers, but Matt grinned inwardly as he read more into the statement. It was abundantly clear that the Speakers weren¡¯t exactly sharing the opinion of those scribes, and that they were envious of the resources the nobles had given them. It might be a fragile lever, but he intended to use it all the same.

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    ¡°Perhaps they may, but there is more to history than simple words and accounts, is there not?¡± Matt paused, looking around at them. He saw grudging agreement, even despite the silence. ¡°The nobility is more interested in the secrets of magic, in recording contracts and keeping accounts, than they have been in history itself. At least, that is what I have been told. If I want the stories of my people, what they tell themselves about their past and where they come from, I¡¯ve been told to speak to you.¡±

    There was an uncomfortable shifting among the Speakers, along with more silent exchanges. An Orc answered this time, leaning forward across the table. ¡°Sire, we know the old stories, and we share the tales of our ancestors. We speak of the Old Monarchs, and their choices that led to triumph and ruin. Is this what you have summoned us for?¡±

    ¡°In a way.¡± Matt leaned forward as well, laying both hands on the table in front of him. ¡°Speakers, I wish to make sure that those old stories are remembered and preserved. I wish to know them, and wish that more among our people would know them. For that, I have brought you here. I will send my personal scribes to record your stories, to make a place for them in my personal library.¡±

    One of the Goblins shifted in his seat. ¡°It is a great honor, my liege, but we also have many responsibilities among our own people. There are many who need us to witness their oaths and speak of their past. We cannot abandon them.¡±

    ¡°Nor should you.¡± Matt tapped the table in emphasis. ¡°The work will be done soon, but after that, I have another task to ask of you. How do you select the people to become the next Speakers?¡±

    There was another silence until a Gnome raised their hand. ¡°We search among the people we visit for a child. One who is quick to learn, and fast to obey. We tell their parents of the honor they¡¯ve been given, and the child becomes an apprentice.¡±

    Heads nodded around the table, and Matt nodded. He began to walk slowly around the table, forcing them to turn to follow his progress. ¡°An efficient tradition, but one that is fraught with risk. What happens if a Speaker never finds their successor? What if some accident befalls a Speaker before they can pass down the stories? Your precious knowledge might soon be lost that way.¡±

    More looks were exchanged. An Orc leaned back in their chair, staff upright and anchored on the floor. ¡°We have no other path to tread, my king. What other choice do we have?¡±

    ¡°I would give you a place where your apprentices would come to you.¡± Matt continued his path around the table. ¡°A school where future Speakers could come and learn before they go back out into the world. Only a few of you would need to stay in Redspire at a time, to teach the ones who come to learn from you.¡±

    A Gnome abruptly stood up from her chair, her eyes suddenly wide. ¡°These scribes, the ones that will record our stories¡­will you share them with us? The records?¡±

    Matt grinned at her. ¡°Of course. We¡¯ll make several copies so that you can use them. Eventually, I wish to make enough so that every Speaker could have a copy, or maybe even every village!¡±

    There were now whispered conversations among the Speakers. Obviously, some of them were more excited about the possibilities than others. Some of them were likely to see the threat to their own positions. Right now, they were cherished and protected by the Low Folk as the sole source of the histories. What would happen to them when those stories were loose in the world?

    Others, however, were catching on. They saw books with their words in them being sent to every village. The chance to make sure their histories did not die, that the old ways would be preserved in a way that had been denied them forever. Hopefully, it would be enough to persuade the rest to participate.

    Then a Goblin, an old one by the whitened tufts of hair sticking out from his scarf, harrumphed. ¡°Your pardon, sire, but what good would such books do for us? Only half of us here can read or write, and most of the Low Folk would never dream of having the chance. A book isn¡¯t much use to an illiterate farm serf, now is it?¡±

    There was a stillness. Some of the Speakers had frozen in place, barely moving their eyes as they looked from the old Goblin to Matt and back. Clearly, some of them expected some sort of sentence to be pronounced; even the guards at the door seemed to tense up, as if ready to respond to his demand.

    Instead, Matt simply nodded, and continued back to his place at the head of the table. ¡°You are correct, sir Speaker. A book is a tool that is ill used by someone that cannot read it.¡± He paused. ¡°All the same, you will have them, and they will do much good. Because alongside the old stories, I will have you teach the people how to read them.¡±

    Another frozen silence followed, as if the gathered Speakers were shocked. The old Goblin seemed like he was the only one who wasn¡¯t surprised. He raised one eyebrow at Matt and tilted his head to one side. ¡°You¡¯ll be needing quite a few more Speakers for that. Well-educated ones, too.¡±

    ¡°Then it is going to be important that we have more available. How lucky that we are establishing a school where we can train them.¡± Matt grinned. ¡°For generations, you have guarded the knowledge you carry. It has been your responsibility to share it among the Low Folk. Now I am giving you the chance to do even more¡ªto share more knowledge, to make those stories immortal. You will be the teachers of my people, and together we¡¯ll build a foundation for our Kingdom that will last into the ages.¡±

    He paused. ¡°Will you help me, then?¡±

    It took a moment, but one of the Speakers nodded. Then another, and another, until even the old Goblin was slowly nodding. It was another beginning, but a good one. At least something was going well.

    Unfortunately, it was one of the few bright spots in the news he received that week. As the days wore on, more reports of battles on the Small Heights came back, along with matching reports of raids along the border with the Frost Elves. Even more news arrived of the gathering invaders to the east, and the chaos on the Sortenmoors. Everywhere he looked on his map, he saw enemies gathering and time running out. It felt like a noose was tightening around his neck, even as he sparred and recited mantras and moderated Council debates.

    It was something of a relief when news came that Paralus had a new trade deal for him to consider. The Wizard from the Western Coalition might not have been his favorite person, but at least he wasn¡¯t actively trying to kill him or his people. A trade deal meant they were interested in maintaining that state of affairs, which said good things about a future, lasting peace. He just hoped it wasn¡¯t something too ridiculous, like another request for disarmament.

    The Greenriver Orc who had brought him the message waited while he finished up the work he was doing, standing with a blank expression between the two lifeguards. Matt found he was having an easier time ignoring the presence of the Grand Council¡¯s assigned minders, but it was still hard to focus sometimes when they hovered near his writing desk. At least none of them appeared to be a chatterbox.

    With a sigh, Matt stood up from his writing desk and gestured for the messenger to precede him. ¡°All right, let¡¯s see what the Western Coalition has decided to offer us.¡±

    The messenger bowed, and both bodyguards straightened up slightly. He imagined they would be excited for the opportunity to move rather than simply standing in place for another hour or two. He¡¯d spent the last three trying to come up with another plan for how to deal with the impending attack on Greymouth, only to find he was no closer to a workable strategy than when he had started. There simply had to be a way to win. He just had to focus hard enough¡­

    Matt found that the corridors of the palace were, as usual, fairly empty. For some reason, most of the servants in the place seemed to want to avoid his notice. Maids tended to duck away into a room or a serving corridor as soon as he came into view, and those valets that failed to disappear in time bowed and seemed to sweat the whole time he was nearby. Matt wondered if it was his lack of a Consort that worried them, or if they tried to stay out of sight for whatever warlord sat the throne. After all, if their past few monarchs had been as cruel as Matt suspected, the staff at the castle were likely the ones who suffered the most.

    As he followed the messenger, though, something began to feel off. It was hard to put a finger on it, but the empty corridors were just a bit too quiet. He saw dust on the floor, too, which his servants would have been quick to clean up. Had he ever visited this part of the castle before? Paralus had moved into a small home outside the castle. Why was he being led through an otherwise unoccupied part of the castle?

    ¡°So, did Paralus mention anything about why he wanted to see me?¡± Matt tried to keep his voice casual. The messenger still flinched a little before he answered.

    ¡°No, sire. Only that he had received a message from his masters in the west, and wished to speak with you at the earliest opportunity.¡±

    ¡°Right.¡± Matt glanced to his sides, where the two bodyguards were marching along in step with him. They were both strong, sturdy types, probably drawn from the ranks of some nobleman¡¯s armsmen, or maybe even from the Guard. Their eyes were fixed on the corridor ahead, and he came to the disturbing realization that they weren¡¯t exactly diligent on the level of a Secret Service agent. He made a mental note to have his new guards trained a bit more thoroughly¡ªthey needed to know not just how to fight, but how to watch for trouble.

    He hoped it wouldn¡¯t be a little too late for that.

    ¡°So this message, how did he receive it? Did he just travel back to his home and return, or did they actually send somebody through?¡± Matt thought he saw the messenger freeze a little, but it could have just been a hitch in the Orc¡¯s step.

    ¡°I¡¯m¡­not sure, sire. He merely summoned me to send a message to you.¡±

    Matt¡¯s fingers twitched a little, wishing that he hadn¡¯t left his mace back in the writing room. He¡¯d kept it by his side in most cases, but had stopped bringing it to meetings with the ambassador. Threatening the emissary of a power you wanted to keep friendly only went so far, and Paralus had seemed terrified enough by Matt¡¯s ideas lately that brandishing an extra bit of metal seemed unnecessary. At least, it had seemed unnecessary.

    So instead, Matt simply came to a stop. His bodyguards marched an extra step before they also paused, looking back at him with a mixture of surprise and concern. The messenger made it another three full strides before he realized what had happened. When he turned back to look at Matt, his expression was a mixture of fear and concern that more or less confirmed Matt¡¯s suspicions. ¡°My liege?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ve decided that I can meet with the Wizard at another time. Come with me back to my office, and I will send you with a letter to explain things to him.¡± Matt kept his voice even and calm. He didn¡¯t want to give things away.

    The Orc messenger stared at him in shock. He rapidly turned a rather unhealthy shade of pale green. ¡°M-my liege, I believe he is waiting for you. He said it was of greatest importance and urgency!¡±

    ¡°Yet he did not say anything about what it was? I am not a servant to be summoned whenever he wishes.¡± Matt gave an elaborate shrug. ¡°As I said, I¡¯ll try to give a more polite response to him. Come back with me, and I¡¯ll have you take it to him.¡±

    The messenger stood frozen and uncertain in the corridor ahead of him. Clearly, things were not going as planned. He spoke in a voice full of confusion. ¡°My liege, I¡ªI do not know if this will endanger our peace with the Western Coalition. We need to see him, immediately.¡±

    Matt took another step back, glancing at the guards. Their hands had gone to their sword hilts, as if the reality of the situation was starting to dawn on them as well. ¡°No one tells a king what needs to be done, messenger. Kind of a problem with the job, actually.¡±

    He looked at the guards. ¡°Take him back to the study. We need to get¡ª¡±

    A burst of projectiles interrupted his orders, flowing out of the nearest shadows in a sudden spray of death. He reacted instantly, hurling himself to one side as the arrows swept towards him. At least one of them struck him in the left arm, and he cried out in pain. Both of his guards also yelped in surprise, and one of them abruptly fell to the floor.

    Matt hit the ground and rolled. The arrow in his bicep bent and tore a little wider wound as he twisted the shaft, and he bit down on another gasp of agony. He heard the surviving guard roaring in anger and caught sight of the man¡¯s sword flashing out to catch the messenger in the throat. A vague feeling of disappointment moved through him; the messenger would have been a useful source of information if they could have captured him alive.

    Not that it was a mystery as to who had sent the assassins. As he watched, five Goblins stepped out of the shadows ahead of him. Four held horsebows, and the fifth had a curved saber in her hand. Clearly, Suluth had decided to rid herself of a troublesome king before he could arrest her.

    Fortunately, the remaining lifeguard was not about to go down without a fight. Sword still drawn, he charged into the Goblins. His larger stature as an Orc meant the assassins had to try to back away; at least two of them were frantically trying to nock arrows and draw, but he was on them too quickly. He cut down one assassin with a broad slash. A second went down as he shoved them up against the wall and stabbed.

    Then two arrows slammed into the guard from the side. He staggered, his sword swiping clumsily to the side. Then the Goblin with the curved sword stepped in and stabbed him beneath the shoulder, where the armor showed a gap between plates.

    As the bodyguard stumbled to his knees, Matt threw himself forward. He managed to get a hand on his other bodyguard¡¯s sword, an arming blade that was completely alien to his training. All the same, it would do better for him than nothing. When he stood, he saw the Goblins turning back towards him.

    The one with the sword laughed. ¡°Now, now, little king, that toy does not suit you.¡± She stepped forward and waved his bloody saber in a warning gesture. ¡°If you cooperate fully, I will see to it that you survive intact to plead for your life before my mistress.¡±

    A nice promise; it conveniently left out the possibility of Matt surviving much longer. If anything, the assassins probably had orders to bundle him off to Suluth so that she could kill him personally and claim the throne without trouble. He smiled. ¡°Thanks, but I think I like my chances here.¡± He tried to put his left hand on the sword hilt, but his fingers felt numb. His whole left side was starting to feel like it was tingling, as if every nerve was on fire.

    ¡°Overconfident, as usual.¡± The Goblin spat on the floor, and her two companions nocked new arrows. Matt saw some kind of greenish fluid covering their tips and realized with horror that he had probably been poisoned as well as shot. ¡°Put the sword down, usurper, before I cut your hands off.¡±

    Grim, and trying to ignore the way his sight was going blurry at the edges, Matt stepped back to gain distance. He shook his head; there was sweat starting to run down his forehead and into his eyes. ¡°Come and do it, if you think you can. Otherwise, stop talking. I¡¯m tired of hearing empty threats.¡±

    The Goblin assassin stared at him a moment longer and then sighed. She looked back at her comrades and gestured at him. ¡°Aim for his legs. We don¡¯t want him trying to run off once the sleeproot is done, and if we have to drag him anyways, we might as well make it clear escape isn¡¯t an option. Once he¡¯s down, Alip will go for the Wargs while Enerm and I¡ª¡±

    She was still talking when a brilliant bolt of fire took her directly in the head. Her calm, dismissive orders abruptly became an agonized scream that choked off just as quickly. The Goblin dropped her sword and raised both hands to her burning face.

    Matt didn¡¯t even wait for her sword to hit the ground. He charged immediately, heading straight for one of the other assassins. They brought their horsebow up, but then hesitated, as if trying to decide between targets. By the time they shot, and he felt the punch of the impact in the numbed left side of his chest, he was already on them and swinging the sword as hard as he could. The blade chopped through bow, padded armor, and Goblin flesh. Unfortunately, he stumbled over the dying assassin and fell to the ground alongside them, suddenly unable to find the strength to stand.

    He saw the second bowman turn to flee, only for another stream of flame to catch them from behind. They were engulfed almost immediately, becoming a flailing, screaming torch. Matt shuddered slightly, and then was shoved onto his back.

    Melren was standing above him, panting with clear exertion. He was saying something, but Matt couldn¡¯t hear the High Imp¡¯s words. There was too much fog between them now, and he could barely see. Why was the man bothering him when he was so very tired¡­

 B1Ch18: Setting a Snare

    Matt opened his eyes and found himself staring at the ceiling of his bedroom.

    Not his real one back in Washington State, of course. It was his royal bedchambers; there was a pretty clear difference between the vaulted stone and a slightly crumbling hotel room turned apartment. He chuckled a bit at the mental comparison, at least until sudden stabbing pains from his chest and arm brought that to a drastic halt.

    Almost immediately, Gorfeld and Melren were there, peering at him in obvious concern. He managed a grin. ¡°Not done with me yet.¡±

    A flicker of relief washed over Melren¡¯s expression. Gorfeld only smiled. ¡°It is good to hear your voice, my liege.¡±

    Matt raised an eyebrow; Gorfeld had been loyal before, but he wouldn¡¯t have described him as devoted or anything. After all, the Low Imp was the only one who knew where Matt had come from, and the only one who would likely have a less-than-awed perspective on his new king. Yet the steward seemed pleased to see him alive, for more reasons than just avoiding chaos in the Kingdom. ¡°It¡¯s good to still speak.¡±

    Then the details of the fight came back to him, and he closed his eyes for a moment. ¡°So Suluth didn¡¯t wait after all.¡± He opened them. ¡°Did either of my men survive?¡±

    The Imps exchanged a look before Melren answered. ¡°One of them was killed. The other still fights for his life.¡±

    ¡°See that he gets the best of care.¡± Matt rubbed at the bridge of his nose. ¡°If the one who died had family, let them know they will continue to receive his wages until the end of my reign. That¡¯s my policy for all of my lifeguards, going forward. We¡¯ll call it the Monarch¡¯s Thanks; we can come up with an appropriate medal or other honor later.¡±

    There was a flicker of something like astonishment on both Imps¡¯ faces, but they simply nodded. He shifted slightly, wondering with resentment why they were so surprised. It only made sense to let the people guarding him know that he would take care of their families if the worst happened. The last thing he needed was a disgruntled set of bodyguards. ¡°What has been happening? How long was I out?¡±

    Gorfeld answered this time, his voice calm. ¡°You have been asleep for two days, my liege. Both due to the healing trance and the effects of the sleeproot.¡± He paused, looking at the door to his bedchamber. ¡°The healers have been hard at work to save you. Apparently, it was a close thing.¡±

    Matt remembered the numbness in his body, felt the impact against his chest again. How much poison had he taken, and how bad had that last arrow hit been? ¡°They will have my thanks as well. Was anyone else hurt?¡±

    Melren shook his head. ¡°No, my liege. There were three more assassins, but they were waiting further down the hallway, and ran as soon as they heard me leading the guards in their direction. I regret to say that they escaped, but no one else was hurt.¡± The former nobleman paused. ¡°It was a fortunate thing that you drew them out the way you did. When you did not fall for their ruse, they had to split their forces, leaving some of them behind to guard their escape route. Otherwise, I might not have caught up to you, and there would have been too many to fight off.¡±

    Matt frowned a little. There was something about that idea, splitting the enemy forces¡­ He shook his head, trying to set the idea aside for later. ¡°And the city? Has anyone else tried to make a move against us?¡±

    The Imps both grinned at the question, though Melren¡¯s expression contained a fair amount more chagrin than Gorfeld¡¯s. His steward was practically gloating as he spoke. ¡°Shortly after news of your condition reached the Grand Council, Lady Relden proposed a decree to establish a successor for you, in case you perished. It happens sometimes, that a ruler dies alongside their assassin. The process afterwards is¡­ unpleasant unless someone gains widespread support. She also proposed placing the city under martial order and restricting the movements of the freeholders until the remaining assassins could be found.¡±

    ¡°While the Council debated the measure, news of it reached the rest of the city. The citizens of Redspire did not respond well.¡±

    Melren snorted. ¡°You mean they practically started a riot, steward. The Guard didn¡¯t even stop them; half the soldiers were ready to help!¡±

    Matt felt his eyes widen in surprise. It was what he expected, what he hoped, but so soon¡­ ¡°What happened, then? I assume they didn¡¯t burn half the city down?¡±

    ¡°They were ready to, my liege.¡± Melren was still shaking his head, utterly bemused by the situation. ¡°As they were gathering, though, one of the local leaders stood up and made them listen to reason. He convinced them to appoint a Voice, using the riot as a kind of Assembly. Ludicrous!¡±

    ¡°But legal.¡± Gorfeld¡¯s voice was firm, even a little resentful of the other Imp¡¯s tone. Apparently, he had not found the decision quite so unreasonable. ¡°Girtun was appointed Voice for Redspire, and he went to the Council and informed them he was going to stand against any measure that he felt would usurp the authority of the king, at least until you recovered.¡±

    It was even better than he¡¯d hoped. In fact, he was starting to wonder if he hadn¡¯t done the best possible thing by getting himself shot. ¡°The Council listened? It didn¡¯t try to ignore him?¡±

    ¡°There was a proposal to¡­dispose of Voice Girtun.¡± Melren chuckled to himself. ¡°Lord Torth then reminded the Council that doing so would be treason¡ªand Girtun reminded them he was just the representative of a very angry, very attentive crowd of freeholders outside. In the end, the motion failed.¡±

    Gorfeld smiled, the widest and most happy expression that Matt had ever seen on him. ¡°Lord Torth then proposed that we increase the number of your lifeguard to twenty-four, and that we require at least four of them be with you at all times.¡± He glanced around the room, and Matt levered himself up enough to see four very large, very grim-looking Orcs standing in the corners of his bedchamber. ¡°I believe they might let you relieve yourself privately, sire, but not much more than that. Lord Torth was rather insistent on securing your safety, and in bringing even more men in for the muster.¡±

    ¡°How kind of him.¡± Matt murmured the words as he thought through the implications. Torth was obviously too clever to move against him openly. To have him supporting the reforms was helpful, but it also meant that the High Imp was clever enough to ingratiate himself with the freeholders, even when Matt himself was out of the picture. It might be a danger he¡¯d have to deal with eventually, but for now, the High Imp nobleman could wait behind the ones that were actively trying to stab him to death.

    He shifted on the bed, feeling the pain of his wounds and the soreness in his limbs. ¡°Is there anything else I should know? Any news from the warfronts?¡±

    Gorfeld shook his head. ¡°No, my liege. For now, things seem more or less as you left them. More men are flocking to the muster, especially after the news of the assassination attempt. The Council has declared Lady Suluth guilty of treason now, with no objections; apparently one of the assassins was identified as a member of her personal retinue.¡±

    Melren broke in, then, glancing resentfully at the steward. ¡°The Wizard Paralus has been sending an awful lot of messages home. He was not involved in the attempt; apparently, he had no idea that the assassins had used him as an excuse for the attack and seemed ready to flee the city. He still seems on edge.¡±

    ¡°Understandable. I hope he is not provoked into doing anything rash.¡± Matt shifted again, thinking it over. Would the Western Coalition think that his incapacitation was an opening to attack? Or had Paralus just been wary of being grabbed and killed by an angry mob? He was half tempted to order the messages to be intercepted, but he was fairly sure that would only worsen the situation. ¡°If there isn¡¯t anything else, I think I probably need to rest. Oh, except I would also like to speak with this Voice, Girtun. He seems like a wise man and deserves my thanks.¡±

    There was a commotion in the study outside his bedchamber, and Gorfeld cocked his head to the side. The Low Imp grinned. ¡°That should be taken care of shortly, my liege. The lifeguards are still getting used to the idea of the Voices being above their ability to block, but¡ª¡±

    Before Gorfeld could finish, the doors to Matt¡¯s bedchamber were thrown open, and a hulking, soot-smeared Orc strode in. Matt blinked in surprised as he studied the newcomer. Even across the room, he could smell forgework rolling off of the man; the Orc only lacked the leather apron of a blacksmith and a hammer in his hand to complete the picture. As it was, there was a long knife at his belt, but he seemed unaware of it as he looked at the Imps, his gruff features set into a scowl.

    ¡°Is he¡ªhe is awake?¡± The Orc took a step forward, his scowl falling away into a look of relief so profound that it seemed unnatural on his blunt face. He dropped to one knee. ¡°My liege, I am Girtun.¡±

    Matt glanced at the Imps, measuring their reaction to the Voice. Gorfeld had already inclined his head in obvious respect, but Melren was studying the man with clear suspicions. Natural responses from both of them, but it was just as clear that they viewed him as a serious man, not some joke that they had to endure. Good. ¡°Girtun. You were the one the Assembly chose as their Voice here in Redspire?¡±

    ¡°I was honored to be the first, my liege. They chose a second shortly afterwards.¡± Girtun waited for Matt to gesture before he rose from his knee. He took a step closer¡ªignoring the obvious tension from the lifeguards in the room¡ªand examined Matt more closely. He let out a short breath of further relief. ¡°You color looks much improved, my liege, and I am glad to see it. Arrow wounds can be¡­difficult to recover, even when the bastards aren¡¯t using poison.¡±

    The clear lack of a filter reminded Matt a little of Captain Snolt, and he nearly chuckled before he remembered the pain involved. Instead, he settled for a calm smile. ¡°So I am learning, Voice Girtun. Next time, I think I will try to be quicker.¡±

    Girtun gave a short bark of laughter. ¡°Just so, sire, just so.¡± He glanced at the lifeguards, who were still watching him with clear dislike. ¡°I am also glad to see you so well guarded. We¡­we feared the worst, my liege. Half the city was in arms.¡±

    The sober words brought home just how bad things could have been, and Matt felt a sudden burst of gratitude. ¡°I understand it was your influence that kept things stable, Voice Girtun. For this, I thank you. Your work kept our city and our Kingdom from danger.¡±

    The Voice shifted uncomfortably on his feet. ¡°Only by your wise example, my liege. Without your laws, we would not have had any chance to stop it.¡± Girtun lifted his head and met Matt¡¯s eyes dead on. ¡°We¡¯re with you, King Matthew. I just wanted to make sure you knew that, and that you were well.¡±

    The unstated promise to watch his back against the Council was heavy in the air, and Matt felt a second burst of gratitude. ¡°Again, you have my thanks, Voice Girtun. It warms my heart to know that the people of Redspire have not yet given up on our Kingdom.¡±

    ¡°Never, my liege, not while you reign.¡± Girtun glanced at Melren, an unsubtle message in that look, and then nodded. ¡°With your permission, my liege, I will withdraw. Voice Wokneth is watching the Council, but I¡¯d like to let the people know that you¡¯re awake again.¡±

    Matt gestured again, and Girtun gave him another respectful nod. Then the Voice left the bedchamber, his stride determined and strong. He watched him go for another moment, and then allowed himself a short, painful chuckle. Melren looked at him in concern. ¡°My liege?¡±

    ¡°It is nothing.¡± Matt gave him a calming wave. ¡°I just¡­ wonder if I can sometimes be a bit too clever for my own good.¡±

    ¡°A risk we should embrace, my liege.¡± Gorfeld¡¯s murmur provoked another half-hearted glare from Melren, but Matt ignored them. His idea from before, about luring the enemy out, had floated back to the top of his thoughts. The more he went over it, the better it seemed. If only he could¡­

    He drifted off to sleep a moment later, plans and strategies still whirling in his head.

    The next three days passed in something of a haze. He spent the entirety of it in bed, still healing from the arrow wounds. He enjoyed the near constant visits of royal physicians, many of whom were experienced Water mages, but apparently the wounds were serious enough that he needed that level of care just to survive. His wounded lifeguard was not so lucky; by the second day, the poor man had joined his partner in death.

    Fortunately, his time in bed was not entirely unproductive. He received daily, almost hourly reports on the activities of the Council from a continuous stream of pages that went in and out of his chambers. Each one was carefully checked by his remaining lifeguards to make sure that Suluth hadn¡¯t planned out a backup attempt on his life¡ªnot that it would surprise him if one of the other nobles tried to finish the job while he was weak.

    It seemed as if the Council was reluctant to move against him, though. None of them proposed anything radical or unexpected since he woke up, and Matt was having a hard time figuring out if it was because they realized he wasn¡¯t planning on conveniently dying, or because their sessions had a minimum of at least one Voice watching over them. Girtun was certainly keeping his word so far.

    In addition to monitoring the nobles¡¯ schemes, he continued to hear from the frontiers of the Kingdom. That feeling of a tightening noose had not changed; if anything, it was getting worse as more and more enemies seemed to appear. There was still no news of Suluth, however, and even less information about the Alliance of Light. It was probably too much to hope that Suluth had died in some random skirmish, but a man could dream. The only immediate good news was a report that Lady Einreth had reached Shadeglen unharmed, though he had no doubt that she would be on the receiving end of an assassination attempt of her own, sometime soon.

    In between reports and sessions of healing, Matt pored over the maps of the eastern mountain range, running through his expected plans again and again in his head. It should work, but he knew he would face significant resistance to his ideas¡ªboth from the nobles and his commanders. At the very least, he was sure Lord Torth was going to say something, but that didn¡¯t change what they needed to do.

    Unauthorized usage: this narrative is on Amazon without the author''s consent. Report any sightings.

    At the same time, he continued building his first Source. Being confined to bed allowed him far more time to work on those mantras, though not being able to walk the streets or supervise the continuing construction was frustrating. The pain of his injuries was also a distraction, but he still managed to buckle down and focus for long enough to complete the first portion of the thing.

    It was an odd feeling, when it happened. The moment his Earth Element completed, it was like something inside him had shifted and fallen into place, completing a puzzle that he hadn¡¯t known existed. He¡¯d considered that internal feeling of power and solidity for a moment, and then sighed before moving on to the next step. The mantras for an Autumn foundation were no less complex, but they felt natural to him; Melren had been firm about the fact that Earth and Autumn had a tendency to go well together, and it seemed the Imp had not been wrong. They also opened several options for interesting chants, though he hadn¡¯t completely decided which Aspect he was going to settle on.

    By the time he was ready to present his plan, he was nearly ready to leave his bed and walk on his own for the first time. He grimaced at the protests from the healers, gave Gorfeld a grim shake of his head when the steward questioned him, and sent a message for Captain Snolt and many of the other Guard captains to come to his study. The situation in the east was not going to wait for him to recover completely. Ready or not, he needed to put things in motion now. He just hoped that it was not too late.

    The captains filed into the room with wary looks between them. It was clear not all of them were comfortable with the summons, though Snolt and Karve seemed far more at ease than the rest. Matt noted the officers selected for the mustered freemen were the most out of sorts. They seemed to feel a mixture of uncertainty and defiance, alternating between staring at him in awe and squaring their shoulders whenever one of the regular Guard captains glanced in their direction. It showed a certain lack of confidence that worried Matt, but he had no choice. If he wanted the numbers to finish his plan, then he¡¯d need to put up with some relative lack of experience.

    One officer that seemed almost completely at ease was Captain Vumorth, Melren¡¯s replacement for the banner of High Guard that had remained in the city. The Imp was so effortlessly casual in her attitude that Matt almost wondered if she was simply not paying attention. It was only when he caught her eye that she gave him a steady smile before engaging one of the Irregular captains in conversation. He decided it was something of an act meant to bolster the others¡¯ morale.

    He hoped it was working, because Matt knew he wasn¡¯t exactly presenting an image of success. Forced to walk with a cane, and still pale and trembling from his wounds, it had been an agonizing walk from the bedchamber to his writing desk. The act of getting dressed had been a special kind of torture, one that had nearly made him nauseous enough to ruin everything with a sudden coating of vomit. It had taken a desperate moment of unsteady breathing to hold it off and continue.

    All the same, he nodded to the gathered officers and gestured for them to sit. He certainly wouldn¡¯t be standing, that was for sure. ¡°Thank you all for coming. We have much to discuss.¡±

    The captains nodded and sorted themselves into the chairs that the servants had arranged in front of the writing desk. It felt a little cramped, but at the very least each of the chairs had been placed so that the captains all had a clear view of the desktop. More specifically, of the map of the eastern range that he had set up. A few of them muttered to each other in speculation, but he ignored that and reached out to tap on the symbol of Greymouth.

    ¡°We have a problem that we need to resolve. Before the beginning of winter, the Noble Races are going to assault Greymouth. They¡¯ll put it to siege, and likely before the end of spring, they will take it.¡±

    There was a whisper of dismay through some of the captains, though Captain Snolt was the only one who spoke up. ¡°Captain Morteth is a fighter, my liege. He won¡¯t go down without a struggle.¡±

    ¡°He¡¯ll be facing an army three times his own. I have no doubt that he would resist, and that he would buy as much time as he could, but he is not a miracle worker.¡± Matt paused, inviting protest, but there were none. Vumorth did open her mouth as if to speak, but a glance from Matt kept her quiet. ¡°What I want to know from you, since you all know him better than I do, is how well Captain Morteth can maneuver in the field. How does he act when given a more mobile command?¡±

    There was a moment of silence, and then Captain Worak spoke up. ¡°I have fought beside Captain Morteth many times. He thinks fast and can adapt to new circumstances quickly. He is no coward.¡±

    Vumorth spoke up next. ¡°He and I trained together often. We spoke of tactics and strategy many times. I admit he is better than I am at seeing crucial moments to strike and withdraw, though I believe I still had the edge on magecraft.¡±

    ¡°Will he obey orders he does not entirely understand?¡± Matt leaned forward slightly, ignoring a painful twinge in his chest. He also resisted the urge to cough, gulping a bit of air instead. ¡°My strategy for dealing with this enemy is¡­unconventional. I worry that he will believe I do not know what I am doing.¡±

    Captain Snolt burst out laughing for a moment. ¡°Before the raids, I might have doubted you, my liege, and so he might have to. After it, though? I think he¡¯ll give you a bit more trust than before. He¡¯ll follow orders.¡±

    With a grunt, Captain Cors shook his head. ¡°He¡¯ll follow them, as long as he doesn¡¯t think he¡¯s being hung out to dry. You¡¯re not sending him on a border raid, are you?¡±

    The question bordered on insolence, and Matt nearly responded with a question of his own. Before he could, however, Karve broke in. ¡°If the King commands it, it will be done. He will not spend our lives wastefully, but no true warrior tries to save his own life at the cost of the Kingdom.¡±

    Snolt gave Cors a contemptuous look. ¡°Cowardice is a shameful thing to admit to, captain. The King knows when to strike boldly.¡±

    Cors flushed with anger and embarrassment, but Matt spoke before the argument could develop further. ¡°I do, but I also know when not to.¡± He reached out and tapped the wooden piece that represented the forces stationed at Greymouth. ¡°Ordering Morteth to advance would not stop the enemy this time. He wouldn¡¯t be as mobile as the Royal First was, and he would have more problems supplying his forces¡ªespecially since we burned half the villages nearby.¡±

    A satisfied grumble rolled through the captains, and he continued in an even voice. ¡°At the same time, I don¡¯t see any reason to ask Morteth to hold Greymouth and die. He and his men deserve the chance to win a victory, not just sacrifice themselves to help us lose more slowly.¡±

    There was confusion on most of the faces looking at him now. Confusion and worry. Captain Urannen, a Gnomish Irregular captain, spoke up cautiously. ¡°If he isn¡¯t going to attack, and he isn¡¯t going to stay still, then what¡­¡±

    He trailed off, and Matt nodded. With a hand he hoped didn¡¯t tremble, he reached out and moved the piece representing the garrison, drawing it back to the west. ¡°In the next day, I am going to send orders for Captain Morteth to evacuate most of the garrison from Greymouth. He will abandon it and move his forces west, to High Esson.¡±

    The shocked silence that followed was just as confused and worried as he had expected. Cors seemed particularly shocked. ¡°He¡¯s¡ªhe¡¯s going to abandon Greymouth? But the enemy¡­¡±

    ¡°The enemy will have Greymouth one way or another, captain. I¡¯m just making sure they take it on our terms, not theirs.¡± Matt tapped the location of the fortress. ¡°Before his forces leave, I will order them to take most of the supplies from the fortress larders. The portion he leaves behind, he will be ordered to make foul.¡±

    Vumorth frowned. She seemed less confused and worried than the others. ¡°Make foul, sire?¡±

    ¡°Contaminate.¡± Matt searched for the words he needed. ¡°He¡¯ll mix in rat corpses and dung with the food. Drop dead auroch pieces down the wells. Piss in the beer. That sort of thing.¡±

    A rough chuckle ran through the group, though fear and confusion were still there. Woraz was still frowning. ¡°I don¡¯t think that the enemy will give the fortress back over a little food poisoning, sire. They will still hold it, and gain control of the pass.¡±

    ¡°Yeah, they will.¡± Matt grinned. ¡°Which means when the enemy marches west, they¡¯ll have to leave behind some of their troops as a garrison, won¡¯t they?¡±

    ¡°Well, yes, of course they will¡ª¡± Cors paused, realization dawning. ¡°So their forces will be split up. Morteth might have a better chance to take them.¡±

    Vumorth grinned. ¡°I¡¯m sure he would trade some stone walls for that. How many troops would they leave behind, though? Four banners? Five?¡±

    ¡°More than that, I¡¯d expect.¡± Matt tapped the piece representing Morteth¡¯s forces. ¡°Hethwellow has to anticipate an attack there, and he wouldn¡¯t want us to be able to run an army in behind him to retake it and cut his supply lines. He¡¯ll leave a strong force there while he tries to chase down our forces.¡±

    ¡°So eight banners. Maybe as much as ten.¡± Woraz was still grimacing at the map. ¡°Are we sure that he will push forward? It would make more sense if he stayed in the mountains, guarding Greymouth until spring comes.¡±

    ¡°It would¡­if he didn¡¯t hate us quite so much.¡± Matt smiled. ¡°Hethwellow has to be hurting after being driven away from Greymouth before. He was also probably communicating with both Tek and Itrelia; he might expect to find help and additional supplies within our territory. Given the chance, he¡¯d absolutely want to charge after Morteth, especially since he¡¯ll still have an advantage in numbers.¡±

    Vumorth nodded. ¡°Even leaving ten banners behind, he¡¯ll nearly have two men for every one of Morteth¡¯s.¡±

    Matt glanced over at her, seeing a blank, professional expression. It was clear she wasn¡¯t challenging him¡ªyet. She¡¯d wait to see if he was a fool, perhaps, but at least she wasn¡¯t actively being a problem. ¡°You¡¯re right. Which is why when Hethwellow attempts to bring Morteth to battle, I am going to order him to withdraw.¡±

    ¡°Withdraw?¡± Snolt¡¯s voice was a mixture of outrage and offense. ¡°We¡¯re going to let those cursed Knights run rampant within our borders?¡±

    ¡°Morteth will avoid battle until it suits us.¡± Matt tapped the piece again. ¡°We¡¯ll send word to evacuate the nearby villages and their food stores to Redspire. Since we know the enemy is coming, we can do that now, before they even cross the mountains. The Knights may still burn the buildings, but the people and their food will be safe.¡±

    ¡°He may do worse than putting a few barns to the torch, my liege.¡± Karve¡¯s voice was still calm, but he seemed less than enthusiastic about the plan. ¡°There is nothing good about allowing an enemy to wander around our lands unrestrained.¡±

    ¡°I disagree, captain.¡± He kept his voice just as calm. Their objections were nothing he hadn¡¯t expected, but he knew the course they had to follow.¡± ¡°With his armies in our territory, his supply situation will only get worse as time goes on. Especially once the snow starts to fall in the mountains.¡±

    He moved the token representing the invaders over near the piece that showed Morteth¡¯s position. ¡°Besides, his options for anything meaningful are limited at best. If Hethwellow continues to chase Morteth, our commander will have better access to supplies and a better knowledge of the terrain. With those advantages and a smaller force, it should be easy for Morteth to evade him for quite some time.¡±

    Vumorth reached over hesitantly to tap the map in a different place. ¡°And if he moves north to cross the River Crimson? We know he has made some kind of treaty with the traitors among the Frost Elves.¡±

    Matt opened his mouth to answer, but Snolt beat him to it. The Goblin laughed, a harsh barking sound. ¡°Almost hope the bastard would! Morteth¡¯ll catch him while he¡¯s crossing, the way we did to those cold prancers. He could wait until about half of the army¡¯s across and catch the back half.¡±

    He grinned at Matt, who nodded with a smile. ¡°My thoughts exactly, Captain Snolt. The Knights might be able to bring more banners to Itrelia, but they would lose nearly half their army, and the Frost Elves aren¡¯t likely to be able to supply them easily. Morteth would then be able to retrace his steps and put Greymouth to siege, while we shifted our focus to containing what was left in the north.¡±

    Cors spoke up again, this time pointing in a different direction. ¡°And if he marches here instead? It wouldn¡¯t take him long to reach Redspire along the roads.¡±

    ¡°If he wants to commit to a siege here, so much the better.¡± Matt shrugged. ¡°We have enough banners here to hold the walls for a while¡ªand Morteth could set up camp just outside the siege lines, ready to cut him off from resupply. If Hethwellow tried to storm us, Morteth could help crush him against the walls. A siege force without supply trains isn¡¯t going to work very well either.¡±

    Another silence fell as the captains thought the plan over. Matt waited, turning his own eyes back to the map. He¡¯d been over and over it, again and again, as he tried to see the problems it might show. There was one risk, but if none of the captains saw it¡­

    ¡°Sire.¡± He looked up and saw Vumorth watching him intently. ¡°What if, instead of Redspire, Hethwellow marches on Ashpeak?¡±

    The silence that followed the question was sudden and deep. Ashpeak was the center of the High Imp¡¯s territory. It was a city far smaller than Redspire, roughly half the size, but it was the seat of nearly half the noble houses in the High Peaks. Allowing it to be put to the sword would devastate the entire region, leaving Hethwellow with a major victory and weakening the Kingdom in turn.

    Matt nodded slowly to Vumorth. ¡°A good question, Captain Vumorth.¡± He rearranged the pieces on the map, showing part of the invaders staying at Greymouth, while the others were just emerging from the mountains. Morteth he set up about a day from the entrance to the pass, at the village of High Esson. ¡°I anticipate that Hethwellow will not immediately march on Ashpeak. He¡¯ll be focused on a grander victory, and he wouldn¡¯t want to settle on a smaller prize.¡±

    As he continued, he maneuvered the pieces, showing Hethwellow¡¯s forces pursuing Morteth, and Morteth shifting to stay out of reach. ¡°I¡¯ll send orders for Morteth to fall back to the south at first, giving him a chance to come in behind Hethwellow if the Knights march to the river, or to Redspire. It will also allow him to fall back towards Ashpeak and defend it if needed.¡±

    ¡°Respectfully, his forces will still not be enough for a pitched battle alone, sire.¡±

    Matt met Vumorth¡¯s eyes. ¡°Which is why he won¡¯t be alone, Captain.¡± He reached out and touched the token that represented the garrison at Redspire. ¡°If Hethwellow turns south and makes for Ashpeak¡ªor, for that matter, if he shows signs of trying to retreat back towards Greymouth once conditions grow bad for him¡ªI will lead the majority of the garrison here out to aid Morteth.¡±

    He moved that token, sliding it across the map. ¡°We¡¯ll march quickly, since we¡¯ll have the advantage of terrain and supplies. By the time Hethwellow realizes we¡¯re there, we should be in behind him. At that point, we¡¯ll have nearly the same number of forces that Hethwelllow has, and the enemy will be surrounded.¡±

    Matt came to a stop, with the piece representing his forces north of the invaders, while Morteth¡¯s forces were just to the south. ¡°With their supply lines cut and their forces surrounded, we¡¯ll have all the advantage we need. They¡¯ll be trapped, and we¡¯ll be able to force their surrender or destroy them completely.¡± He moved both Morteth¡¯s piece and his own, crushing the token of the invaders between them. Hethwellow¡¯s piece fell over, rolling a little out of the way. ¡°From there, we can retake Greymouth or attack through one of the other passes to force their withdrawal.¡±

    When he looked up, he saw the captains all staring at him in silence. Vumorth still had that measuring, weighing look, but he didn¡¯t see anger or hostility in her. Just calculation. ¡°Are there any other objections or questions?¡±

    Silence met the question, and Matt nodded after a moment. ¡°Good. I will draft the orders to Captain Morteth and send them before the end of the day, along with other messengers to evacuate the nearby villages. I need you to go back to your banners and prepare them for the coming fight. With luck, they might not be needed, but if they are, we need to be ready for a hard fight. The freedom and safety of our Kingdom depends on it. Am I understood?¡±

    The captains murmured their agreement, and Matt stood. ¡°Thank you for your time and your advice. You are dismissed.¡±

    They saluted and bowed before filing back out the door to the study. Matt watched them go, willing his trembling legs to stay firm. Even sitting for this long had been draining. How he expected to ride to battle on Nelson was a little beyond him, but he didn¡¯t have that many choices. With a battle this crucial, he had to march out with his men. Anything less would sow the seeds for his future destruction.

    Vumorth, he noticed, had hung back as the others left. When most of them had gone, she stepped over to him and spoke quietly, her voice low enough to not reach the ears of the others. ¡°Sire, I know our numbers will be nearly even, but many of the members of the garrison are going to be Irregulars. There might be some good fighters among them, but in terms of equipment and training¡­¡±

    She shook her head. ¡°I urge you to remember that they might not hold the line as well as members of the Guard can. Trusting too much in them may be¡­ unwise.¡±

    Matt nodded slowly. It was a bit of a concern. Blacksmiths were working overtime to provide the men with spears and shields, but their armor and conditioning was nowhere near that of the Crown Guards. If anything, from what he¡¯d seen, they were going to be an undisciplined mob once the battle started, and he was uncertain whether or not they would end up routing immediately or charging out of control the instant the battle started. ¡°Thank you for reminding me, Captain Vumorth. I trust that you and the High Guard will be able to stiffen their backs?¡±

    She nodded. ¡°Yes, sire. You can count on us to do our best.¡± Vumorth stepped back and looked back at the map, a small smile on her face. ¡°Captain Snolt warned me you were bold, but I had not anticipated quite how that would look, close up. I look forward to demonstrating the valor of my own men.¡±

    Matt gestured to her, and she bowed. Then she followed the rest of the captains out of the room, not looking back. Once the door closed, he half-fell back into the chair with a painful thump. He put a hand to the bridge of his nose and tried to breathe evenly. It was the best plan he had available, but would he be ready? Would any of them be ready?

    There was only one way to find out, and he had a creeping suspicion that he wasn¡¯t going to enjoy the experience.

 B1Ch19: Invasion

    News of the orders to Morteth seemed to leak almost immediately, something that Matt had anticipated. After all, he couldn¡¯t expect the captains to remain entirely quiet about it, though at the very least, the public didn¡¯t seem to know the exact details of the strategy. The people only knew that he had pulled the garrison back from Greymouth, and that Morteth would be waiting for the enemy on the western side of the mountains.

    Almost immediately, he received a flurry of questioning letters from the Council. Most of them were severely polite, quietly restrained queries that were probably just confirming the information and inquiring whether he had lost his mind. Some of them were a bit more forceful and on the edge of panic than others, but he managed to answer them without much problem.

    The reaction of the regular citizens was a bit more surprising. At first, it seemed as if the serfs and freeholders were just as worried about the sudden vulnerability, but then a new rumor sprang up almost immediately. One he hadn¡¯t necessarily expected.

    ¡°You¡¯re kidding.¡± He stared at Gorfeld in surprise. ¡°They think I¡¯m daring them to attack?¡±

    ¡°They seem fairly certain of it, sire.¡± Gorfeld¡¯s smug expression told him exactly how the Imp was taking the news. If he was any more satisfied, his head might have popped from sheer schadenfreude. ¡°In fact, there is currently a betting pool based on when you are going to ride out and take command from Morteth so that you can fight the enemy forces personally. The best odds are that you¡¯ll wait about a week.¡±

    Matt couldn¡¯t help laughing. At least that hurt less than it had a day or two ago. Not that it wasn¡¯t still painful, of course, but at least it was more of a dull ache. ¡°I can barely walk, and they think I¡¯m going to ride out in less than a week?¡±

    ¡°Well, some of them think you might wait two.¡±

    He put a hand over his eyes and shook his head. ¡°I think my reputation has gotten a bit out of control, Gorfeld.¡±

    ¡°Can you blame them, sire? One of your first acts was to ambush an army of Frost Elves, and then lead a single company on a raid through enemy territory for over a week. Then you fought off a band of assassins and sent orders to abandon one of our greatest fortresses.¡± Gorfeld shrugged. ¡°The last ruler that reckless was the Grand Baron, and he was known for charging into battle well ahead of his troops. His guards used to have to gallop at full speed just to get there before the enemy could surround him.¡±

    Matt snorted. ¡°Oh? How long did he last?¡±

    ¡°About six months. He did not live long on the throne, but he definitely made a lasting impact.¡± The Imp gave Matt a meaningful look. ¡°The only real surprise is that they are expecting you to win somehow. Apparently, the Star of Fortune has been watching over you.¡±

    He blinked. The Star of Fortune was one of the figures from the Speakers¡¯ tales, one that had a tendency to appear and guide the actions of heroes and villains alike. Often, it meant for a dramatic¡ªif occasionally tragic¡ªend. ¡°Where did you hear that?¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s something that many of the Speakers are saying.¡± Gorfeld frowned a little. ¡°There seem to be a lot more of them in the city now. They are taking up quite a bit of the time from our scribes, as well.¡±

    Perhaps his decision to shelter the Speakers was going to pay off, then. He¡¯d read that there was wisdom in courting that kind of support, and if it was paying off already, he had some gratitude to send to all of the classics he¡¯d read. ¡°Well, that seems helpful.¡±

    Gorfeld chuckled. ¡°It is, in a way. If you fail, the people will at least expect it to be in a suitably dramatic way.¡± He shook his head, and the chuckles subsided a bit more. ¡°Of course, there are just as many claiming you are a child of the Warmonger, or someone sent by the Scion of Knowledge, or any number of others. Apparently, you are quite popular with the gods.¡±

    ¡°Better that than unpopular, certainly.¡± He shrugged off a vague sense of unease. ¡°Any other signs of sabotage or assassins in the city? The last thing we need is more trouble from Suluth.¡±

    ¡°Not that we¡¯ve been able to see, sire. The last assassins escaped, but we haven¡¯t seen any sign of them coming back.¡±

    ¡°Well, that¡¯s a relief.¡± Matt turned back to his latest report from the Council. They were apparently debating the establishment of the school of Speakers. Some of the nobility were in favor of supporting it, but others were militantly opposed. It seemed like even the ones that were in opposition spoke carefully, however; the presence of a freeholder Voice having a definite effect on them. A good sign that it would keep them in check. At this rate, he had every hope that they would reach winter without any more catastrophes.

    Two days later, a full two banners of Suluth¡¯s Shadow Wargs appeared outside of Redspire.

    The Guard understandably denied them entrance, though one messenger was allowed to approach the palace. In the meantime, the others set up a small campsite outside the walls, carefully positioning themselves off the main road. A banner of the Crown Guard and two of the Irregulars were called up to watch them from the walls, making sure that the possible rebels wouldn¡¯t cause any trouble.

    By the time the messenger arrived, Matt had managed to reach the throne room. He was still walking with a cane, though this time he used his mace for the support. It would probably help send an effective message on its own, but he honestly didn¡¯t know what to expect. There had still been no news from the Sortenmoors about Suluth or anyone else, and he had no idea if these soldiers were at Redspire to challenge him directly or announce Suluth¡¯s intention to rebel. Unfortunately, there was only one real way to find out.

    The messenger entered the throne room at a hurried pace. They paused slightly at the door, noting the lifeguards standing around the room. There were a full eight of them this time, all grim faced and alert. Matt had made a simple request for renewed training for them, and the lifeguards had been drilling mercilessly ever since. None of them seemed to resent it, and Matt only hoped that the deaths of their fellow lifeguards had hammered home how serious a responsibility they carried.

    At the moment, however, they seemed to serve as both an effective warning and a terrifying message for the representative of the banners outside. The Goblin looked around for a moment longer, licking his lips in obvious concern, and then timidly walked forward. He stopped when the lifeguards grew suddenly tense and knelt before the throne. Matt noted the Goblin was well short of where they would need to be to threaten him.

    ¡°King Matthew, sire, I bring a message from the Third and Fifth banners of the Shadow Hunters.¡± Matt gestured for the Goblin to continue. ¡°They have heard of the treachery of Lady Suluth, and have rejected her further commands. Wishing to make their allegiance known, they have come back to Redspire to pledge themselves directly to your cause.¡±

    Matt stared at the Goblin in silence, his mind whirling. He had expected plenty of grim tidings, but not this. ¡°They are not allied to her, then? It must have been a difficult thing to reject their kinship with her, treachery or no.¡±

    The Goblin winced. ¡°Sire, regardless of her ties to us, she has betrayed the Kingdom, and stands guilty of killing a Defender of the Realm. It is not a dishonor to repay her lack of loyalty in kind.¡±

    He stared down at the messenger, thinking through the situation. He¡¯d already established a pattern of accepting loyalty from the underlings of traitors, ones who were willing to turn against their former masters. If he¡¯d accepted Melren¡¯s pledge of loyalty, and only punished him for not acting sooner, he couldn¡¯t very well deny these warriors a similar opportunity¡ªespecially since their defection from Suluth¡¯s ranks meant she had two fewer banners of soldiers to lead against him.

    Matt leaned forward, his eyes intent. ¡°What can you tell me of Lady Suluth? What are her aims? Where does she camp?¡±

    The messenger let out a short breath. ¡°Our news of her is old, sire, and likely no longer accurate. What we know for certain is that she aims to take the throne of Redspire for herself, at any cost. She is not allied with the other traitor, the Orc Teblas, and her forces have skirmished with his in the Sortenmoors.¡±

    Then the Goblin paused, lowering his eyes. ¡°We were able to find that she was responsible for both the murder of Lord Braden and the attack on you, sire. Once we were sure of that, our path was clear.¡±

    Matt shifted slightly on his throne. It wasn¡¯t much more than he already knew, but it was still some good news. If Teblas and Suluth started working together, holding the Sortenmoors would get much, much harder. ¡°And her camp? Do you know where she is now?¡±

    ¡°No, sire. She once had a camp at Srik¡¯s Fen, but the rebels under Lord Teblas attacked her there a day before we left. When we arrived, we found only corpses and burned buildings.¡±

    The news that the rebels were fighting each other was welcome enough, but it was hard not to see the whole thing as a waste. Especially with two different invasions looming. ¡°Do you know how many of her troops remain with her? Does she still have a full four banners under her control?¡±

    ¡°No, sire.¡± The Goblin¡¯s lips twisted in disgust. ¡°She has managed to lose at least two of them in skirmishes against Teblas; I¡¯m not sure how many others remain loyal to her, or to the Kingdom. At the very least, she has also been fighting against some of the militia as well; perhaps she has taken further casualties there.¡±

    The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

    ¡°And the militia? The Crown Guard in the Sortenmoors? Are they loyal to the Kingdom, or to Suluth?¡± Those questions were almost as crucial as the number of Hunters still under Suluth¡¯s control. If she had swayed some of his own troops against him¡­

    ¡°They are loyal to the throne, sire.¡± The Goblin seemed to shrink in on himself slightly. ¡°Many of them have taken grievous casualties against Teblas, but they have learned to avoid his forces and strike at their flanks. I am sure that they will do the same against Suluth, as news of her treachery continues to spread.¡±

    Matt nodded, feeling some of the tension flow out of him. ¡°Very well. I thank you for your news, and will send you back to your captains with a message.¡± He paused, letting the messenger cringe a moment longer. ¡°Your banners are accepted back into the fold as long as they swear to support the Kingdom, and foreswear their former vows to Suluth. When the time comes, you will help me to hunt her down and kill her for her crimes. Until then, they will be watched carefully. Any hint of disloyalty will be noticed, however, and rewarded accordingly. Am I understood?¡±

    ¡°Yes, sire. It is clear.¡± The Goblin bowed again, deeply. ¡°I will carry your judgment to them.¡± He paused. ¡°Will you allow them to garrison inside the city, sire?¡±

    Another dilemma. If the Goblins were ready to backstab him, they would do a much better job inside the city walls than they would out in the countryside. It would be a terrible irony if he had spent the past few weeks watching for spies and saboteurs, only to let nearly two hundred of them past Redspire¡¯s defenses now.

    At the same time, having them inside the city would mean that they couldn¡¯t report back to Suluth easily. The Crown Guard and Irregulars would be able to watch them all the time, and if they were actually sincere about their newfound loyalty, then he would be able to put them to use against the eastern invaders.

    Matt nodded. It was yet another compromise, but at least this one would be easy to compensate for. ¡°Your banners will be allowed inside the city.¡± He caught the relieved expression on the messenger¡¯s face, and let his own expression go grim. ¡°Remember, this is an opportunity to prove yourselves. Even the slightest misstep, and you¡¯ll suffer the same fate as all traitors.¡±

    The messenger froze for a moment. He glanced at the mace in Matt¡¯s hands and visibly swallowed. ¡°Yes, sire. I understand, and I will make sure my captains understand.¡±

    ¡°Good. Now go.¡± Matt gestured, and the messenger scurried back out of the throne room. He waited for the Goblin to disappear through the doors before he heaved himself up with a pained groan. One of the lifeguards stepped forward, as if to brace him, and Matt waved him back with a reassuring gesture. ¡°Don¡¯t worry. Just¡­recovering my strength a bit.¡±

    The lifeguard nodded, retreating a step. Matt could still see the traces of concern in the Imp¡¯s eyes, though. He hoped that the lifeguards were loyal enough not to speak much of his continued infirmity, at least not to anyone else who would gossip freely. A king needed to seem invincible, especially when his nation was under siege. Wounds could heal when he had peace.

    If he ever had peace.

    The rest of the week was calmer, with fewer catastrophes immediately looming over him. A full two days passed without incident, beyond the continued drawn-out healing process and his own efforts to build his first Source. Autumn was being stubborn for him; perhaps it had something to do with the changing of the season.

    If so, it was going to be much harder soon. The winds were already growing colder; more and more grey clouds flooded the sky, though they hadn¡¯t been dropping rain on the city below. He remembered they had predicted winter would come in six weeks after his arrival. That time limit was just about up, though it was difficult to realize that he¡¯d gone through so much in such a short time. He wondered if anyone back home had even noticed. Maybe the police were looking for him, but maybe not. It was something he¡¯d find out when he got back.

    Messengers continued to arrive and deliver their information to him at a continuous pace. Lord Grufen reported consistent successes in the north, though the casualty numbers showed that Itrelia had committed to a war of grinding attrition there. Matt didn¡¯t know how many more Frost Elves she had to send into the tunnels of the Small Heights, especially given the raids that she kept launching into the northern parts of the Spirelands.

    Meanwhile, Paralus had been remarkably silent. He¡¯d sent no messages on behalf of the Western Coalition, and what times he did show up, it was to peer in at the work still going on around the sand filters to the east of the city. The work there had progressed nicely; the filters themselves had already been bricked in, and the gravel and sand poured into them. Now it was merely a matter of digging the pipes and excavating the Great Cistern beneath the city. Matt thought it shouldn¡¯t take too much longer, but he doubted they would finish it entirely before the first snow fell.

    Beyond that, there were no reports from the Sortenmoors. Nothing from the militias, nothing about Suluth, nothing about Teblas. Matt would have accepted bad news rather than no news at all, but he didn¡¯t exactly have a choice in the matter. At least Einreth had reported in that she had taken command of the forces at Shadeglen, and that the city was both stable and seemingly loyal.

    Then, on the morning of the third day, a messenger arrived from Morteth. The Noble Races were on the move.

    ¡°How long before they reach Greymouth?¡±

    Gorfeld¡¯s question was voiced low, but Matt gave him a sharp look, anyway. The Imp simply gave him a steady stare in return, and Matt sighed. ¡°They should take some time to get through the pass. Morteth was saying it had already started snowing in the mountains, so he guesses they will reach the fortress in the next two days.¡±

    ¡°Which means they¡¯ll be in the High Peaks a day after that.¡± Gorfeld looked down at the map, and his worry was clear on his face. With just the two of them in the study¡ªminus the lifeguards, of course¡ªthe steward didn¡¯t have to pretend to be inscrutable. ¡°You¡¯re sure about this plan, my liege?¡±

    Matt nodded. Even if he wasn¡¯t certain, it was probably too late to try to reoccupy the fortress. ¡°I am. We¡¯ll bait them out into the open and surround them there.¡± He traced a finger across the closest known villages to Greymouth. ¡°Are they evacuating?¡±

    The steward nodded. ¡°Some have traveled to Ashpeak, but the rest are on the roads leading here. We should be seeing the first of them tomorrow.¡± He paused. ¡°I only hope that we can find enough places for them to sleep. With the refugees from the north, and the Irregulars and prisoners as well¡­¡±

    ¡°We¡¯ll make it work, Gorfeld. Better they get a little cold in tents here than they die warm in their burning homes.¡± He knew he was being harsh, but he had no choice. The only battle he could win was going to be in the hills and forests west of the High Range. Anything else would lead to disaster. ¡°Let the Low Folk know they are coming, so they can prepare. Have the Grand Council informed as well, in case they decide to gather another round of taxes to help pay for their support as well.¡±

    ¡°I will, sire.¡± Gorfeld bowed slightly. He made as if to withdraw, but paused. ¡°Is there anything more, sire?¡±

    Matt gave him a wry smile. ¡°Oh, I don¡¯t know. You sure you still don¡¯t want to be king instead of me?¡±

    The steward looked stricken, glancing at the nearby lifeguards. None of them were giving any sign of reacting, but they did look a little more intent than they had been before. ¡°Of course not, sire. You are the one who holds the throne, and I only seek to serve.¡±

    His earnest reply took Matt off guard. Did he think the lifeguard would report the conversation back to the nobles? Surely they knew he hadn¡¯t wanted the throne at first, right? ¡°Just a joke, Gorfeld. I¡¯m not accusing you of treason or anything.¡±

    Gorfeld seemed to relax a little, though he still gave Matt an incredulous glare. ¡°I¡­ see, sire. Perhaps Melren could educate you on the finer points of courtly humor, as well as magic?¡±

    Matt gave a bark of laughter. ¡°Good point. I¡¯ve never been the best at making people laugh.¡± He settled back into his seat, shifting a little as an ache or two worked its way through his guts. ¡°I wish it hadn¡¯t come to this, but I think in the next few days a lot of people are going to die, Gorfeld. I don¡¯t know how to stop it, otherwise.¡±

    ¡°War is something we cannot avoid, sire. Not now. All we can do is survive it.¡±

    It was true enough, though something in Matt still rebelled against the idea. He shook his head and turned away from the map. ¡°I would hope we have a little more to do than just live through it. Something we build now has to last. Speaking of which, what are the reports from the filtration project?¡±

    ¡°Parufeth says that the brickwork has begun in the Great Cistern. They are already beginning to work on the new fountains and wells to connect to it.¡± Gorfeld paused. ¡°He did ask why we were going to create a new pit out near the old swamps. Apparently, the ground there is not easy to excavate or build on.¡±

    ¡°I know, but the wetlands there are simply too good to ignore.¡± Matt had known exactly what he planned on using that wetland for the instant he had seen it, southwest of the city and running up against the River Crimson. It would involve quite a few pipes and such, but the next step in the building projects would be just as crucial as the filters in the northeast. Gorfeld gave him a questioning look, but Matt waved a finger at him. ¡°Nope, you¡¯re just going to have to trust me. Good things come to those who wait.¡±

    The steward seemed on the edge of asking his questions anyway, but he subsided with another sigh. He shook his head. ¡°At the very least, the winter cold should help freeze the ground enough so that they are not constantly fighting floods. They will have trouble with digging through the soil, however.¡±

    Matt nodded. ¡°And how is the treasury looking? Are we running dry yet?¡±

    Gorfeld shuffled through the notes he was holding. The look on his face when he reached the right page told Matt what kind of news he was getting immediately. ¡°We still have enough funds to last us another two years at this rate, but after that we will be bankrupt. The taxes that the Grand Council raised were enough to cover the cost of mustering the extra troops, but these building projects, and the extra cost for filling the granaries, are rapidly decreasing our available resources.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s worth it.¡± Matt shook his head. ¡°How many nobles have freed their serfs? There have to be plenty who are taking advantage of the decree, if we are losing money that quickly.¡±

    ¡°They are still in the minority, sire, but the number is steadily growing.¡± Gorfeld glanced at the lifeguards again, who had gone back to ignoring the conversation. ¡°I¡¯d estimate that in addition to the freemen you created, roughly double that number has been freed by their former masters. Mostly the nobility that has the closest ties to the granaries here at Redspire. Those mostly based elsewhere have not shifted much at all.¡±

    Matt grunted. So the most expensive ones had already converted, but the others were still holding the line. Maybe more would change over the coming weeks¡ªespecially as they saw the benefits of having Voices appointed from people familiar and friendly to them¡ªbut he guessed that six weeks was probably a short time to upend an entire society. Even if that society had been ruled by violent, unstable, and capricious warlords in the past.

    He felt another twinge of pain and shifted again in his seat. ¡°Well, we¡¯ll just have to keep working on that. The more freeholders we have, the safer the Kingdom will be.¡± The steward gave him a skeptical glance, but did not protest. Matt continued in a lower voice. ¡°For now, just get everything ready for us to withstand a siege here, if needed, or to accept all those refugees at the very least. We have to move quickly.¡±

    ¡°Of course, sire.¡± Gorfeld bowed a second time, this time heading directly for the door. Matt watched him go with a sigh, wondering just how differently this world¡¯s history would mark him down compared to the sociopaths that had apparently preceded him. Given the number of bodies he was piling up, maybe he wouldn¡¯t look so different at all.

    Then again, the victors wrote the histories, so to speak, so the next few days would tell him a lot about how he would be remembered, once his reign was done. The thought did little to comfort him as he turned his attention back to the map, where the invasion army was menacing his territory. Just a few more days, and all hell would break loose.

 B1Ch20: Snow March

    The messengers from the east were much more constant, now arriving two or even three times a day. Matt took each of their reports and updated the positions of the armies on his map, sliding pieces between the various locations as the situations changed.

    Hethwellow¡¯s invasion force had emerged from the pass leading to Greymouth four days after scouts had reported their departure from Greymouth. They had taken the fortress two days before, pausing there for a day after the handful of guards left there had fled the structure. Matt had entertained himself by imagining their reaction to the empty fort. Morteth had taken a few extra measures to make it look like his army was still camped there, stationing strawmen along the walls and assigning the men he¡¯d left behind to burn far more fires than they needed. There was no way of knowing if his ¡®Straw Army¡¯ had deceived the invaders, but Matt liked to think that it had.

    When reports of the invasion had reached him, Matt had breathed a sigh of relief. Hethwellow had detached some of his army to guard Greymouth, after all; only something like twenty-four banners of troops had followed him west of the mountains. The units involved were a wide mix of troops, obviously gathered from across the Noble Races. Knights made up the largest group, with some from Hethwellow¡¯s Order of the Griffon, and others from the Oath of the Tower and the Table of Anchors. The Elves had contributed as well, with banners from Irien, Polurien, and Melothien marching alongside their sturdier allies. There had been Dwarven warriors from the Sunken Clans as well, heavily armored and carrying siege equipment, while at least two different nations of Wizards, the Coven of Gold and the Azure Convent, had sent forces.

    All in all, it looked like a hodgepodge of different people ready and willing to burn his entire Kingdom to the ground. Matt only hoped his own mismatched forces were a bit less disorganized.

    The news of the invasion had reached Redspire¡¯s citizens as well, and there was an attitude of fear and expectation now. It was clear that some of the people expected Matt to ride out against the enemy immediately; others seemed to fear that Hethwellow would show up outside of the walls any day. Still others seemed confident that the enemy would turn on Ashpeak, while others spoke of the Noble Races burning every village east of the River Crimson.

    It was hard to sit and wait while those rumors floated around the city, especially when the Grand Council began to send emissaries to ask him what he planned. Matt had merely replied that they would march to war when things were ready and continued to recover from his wounds.

    There was good news, however. The day he heard that Greymouth fell, Matt woke to see the first, brief flurry of snow in Redspire. Matt had never been a fan of winter; cold always seemed far more miserable than heat, even when it was sweltering hot in the summertime. Still, snow would mean marching would be difficult, and maintaining a supply train¡ªacross the mountains, no less¡ªwould become a nightmare for the invaders. As far as he was concerned, the more snow, the better.

    Parufeth and the builders he¡¯d gathered were far less pleased. The Gnome had actually come all the way to Matt¡¯s study¡ªtaking the unusual step of trying to clean the grime off of himself in preparation¡ªto point out all the delays that winter was going to cause. They¡¯d have to deal with the frozen ground and the need to keep snow off of the build sites. Workers would get sick more frequently, and snowstorms might force delays as they stranded people in their homes. Accidents would increase as dangerous conditions multiplied. The foreman was insistent that continuing to work through the winter was going to be problematic and costly.

    Matt had simply nodded and encouraged him to continue working. The project was only going to get more and more crucial as time went on, and they could not afford to lose time. Not now.

    With each messenger, Matt watched as the armies moved across the map. At first, Hethwellow marched straight for Morteth¡¯s camp. The Imp commander led his own troops southwest of his original camp, however, staying just ahead of the larger army. Hethwellow spent nearly two full days chasing Morteth down, even as the snow continued to come down in larger and larger amounts. It was already sticking to the ground around Redspire when Hethwellow came to a stop, and the messengers began to arrive with half-frozen mud caked around their clothes and boots.

    Hethwellow waited for a day in place, either frustrated by Morteth¡¯s refusal to fight, or hoping the Imp would engage. When Morteth simply camped nearby, the invaders sent out riders to burn the nearby farms and villages and marched north.

    Their objective was fairly obvious; the Noble Races were headed straight for one of the few consistent crossings for the River Crimson. They only marched for a single day, however, before Morteth¡¯s troops swung in behind them and to the south. Then the invaders turned and chased Morteth south yet again. Their pace now slowed as the snow began to pile up, forcing some of the citizens in Redspire to use shovels to keep the roads in the capital clear.

    It was as Matt read the news, a day later on the sixth day, that he came to a decision. The roads were already growing worse by the day; if he waited any longer, there might not be an opportunity to reinforce Morteth, and if Hethwellow continued to chase him south, then Ashpeak would soon be within striking distance. He looked outside, where snow was lazily drifting down, and then sent messengers to the captains. The time had come to march.

    ¡°Are you sure you are recovered, sire?¡± Gorfeld¡¯s concern was quiet, but still surprisingly clear. Matt gave him a brief look before turning back to checking Nelson¡¯s saddle.

    ¡°The healers have told me I¡¯m good to ride. A few aches and pains aren¡¯t going to stop me.¡±

    ¡°They told you that you could ride. Did they say you could ride to battle?¡±

    Matt looked back at Gorfeld again. The steward had asked the question in a low voice, hopefully too soft to be overheard in the commotion around the stable. ¡°I don¡¯t have a choice. If Hethwellow keeps headed south, then Morteth is going to need reinforcements. I can¡¯t expect the army to help him without my example leading them, and I don¡¯t want to be sitting and hearing about things from a day-late messenger. If they have to tie me to the saddle before the charge, it¡¯s better than the alternative.¡±

    The steward looked mulish. ¡°I remind you, sire, of how precarious our situation is here. The Kingdom is stabilizing in some ways, but we are still vulnerable. Two rebellions, refugees flooding the capital, another invasion on the way¡­¡±

    ¡°Then I need to help the current invasion end as quickly as I can, right?¡± Matt tightened a strap and Nelson gave a brief snort. The warbuck stomped a hoof in warning, and Matt paused long enough to soothe the beast back to calmness. ¡°Besides, if I go down, maybe you¡¯ll get someone who listens to you better. Someone who won¡¯t spend his time upending the whole system.¡±

    ¡°We might, sire.¡± Gorfeld leaned closer. ¡°Which means our next king or queen might try to put the freeholders back into servitude. There would be only nobles and serfs again. Is that what you want to have happen?¡±

    Matt paused. The look he gave Gorfeld was one mixed with irritation and admiration. ¡°Good point, Gorfeld.¡± He slowly, painfully, pulled himself up into the saddle. It was a lot more agonizing than he had promised himself before he tried it. ¡°I¡¯ll do my best not to get killed. Is that enough?¡±

    The Imp continued to stare up at him for a moment. Then he stepped back and bowed. ¡°I will humbly and eagerly await your return, my king.¡±

    Matt gave him a casual salute with his mace and then eased Nelson out of the stable. The rest of the army was going to be forming up outside the city, and he didn¡¯t want to miss them. Outside, the snow had continued to fall, a soft, almost silent blanket that buried the mud and grime of Redspire in brilliant, freezing white.

    The march from Redspire was no more pleasant this time than it had been during the first campaign.

    Of course, the first time all he¡¯d really had to worry about was saddle soreness, not the ache and pain of half-healed wounds. The healers had done their best¡ªpurging infections and reinforcing his own recovery. There was only so much they could do in such a short time, though, and Gorfeld¡¯s worries seemed to be more and more justified as the day wore on.

    Fortunately, it wasn¡¯t his careful progress that slowed the army down. With most of the soldiers on foot, and accompanied by a supply train of wagons drawn by aurochs, things would have been slow enough already. Snow and cold only made things that much worse, with the occasional unpleasant gust of wind tearing through the ranks with enough bite that Matt could feel it through the layers of his armored surcoat and the warm padding beneath.

    There weren¡¯t as many songs in the ranks this time, though the men appeared to march with good order. They seemed much grimmer and more determined now; Matt supposed it was because they were all expecting a battle at the end of the road. He wondered if that would help or hurt them as that anticipation turned into a reality.

    Captain Snolt once again rode beside him, though a dozen members of Matt¡¯s lifeguard surrounded him. At first, the stoney-eyed warriors had not wanted to give the Goblin captain the chance to draw close, but he had blustered and sworn at them until Matt had gestured for him to be let through. Once beside him, the captain of the First Riders had grumbled and muttered a bit before glancing up at Matt. ¡°Fine day for a ride, isn¡¯t it?¡±

    Matt grinned despite himself. The snow hadn¡¯t stopped falling since they had marched out of the city, and it seemed like it was going to continue through the whole week at this rate. ¡°I suppose you could say that, captain.¡± He glanced down at Snolt, recognizing the same battle-scarred beast the captain had ridden on their first campaign together. ¡°Are you and the rest of the First ready? I may need you to give the rest of them a good example.¡±

    The implied compliment made Snolt swell up like a balloon. He smiled so fiercely it was nearly a snarl. ¡°Aye, my liege. We¡¯ll teach those Knights the meaning of fear!¡± A few nearby soldiers gave emphatic agreement, with one even cheering. Snolt glanced around and lowered his voice. ¡°Morteth is still stringing them along for us?¡±

    ¡°He is.¡± The latest messenger had arrived just as they started out from the city. Both Hethwellow and Morteth were still headed west, though the Imp commander was reporting difficult roads and delays due to weather. Matt only hoped the same problems were slowing down Hethwellow¡¯s invaders as well. ¡°They are about three days of hard marching from here. That is, unless the enemy decides to turn around.¡±

    ¡°I have my best scouts out ahead of us. They¡¯ll find the enemy for us, sire. You have my word on it.¡±

    Matt nodded. One way or another, the enemy would be in his sights soon enough.

    It took only two days before Snolt¡¯s scouts rode into the camp with reports of the enemy.

    The riders came in near dawn, before the army had really broken camp. It wasn¡¯t snowing still, but Matt didn¡¯t know how long that would last. Grim, grey clouds glowered down from the sky, and chilly wind gusted through the trees, drawing shivers from the men as they gathered around campfires for a bit of warm breakfast. Many of them were rubbing their hands and trying to warm themselves enough to resume their march, even as the scouts arrived at Matt¡¯s tent.

    Matt immediately brought out a map, trying to chart out where the enemy was. He traced the parchment with his fingers. ¡°Earlier than I thought. They are still south of the road?¡±

    The scout nodded. Her face showed the wearying effects of a night spent riding and searching for the enemy; he didn¡¯t doubt that she would sleep as soon as she could get off her feet. ¡°They are, sire, but not by much. They could be north of it by midday, if they set out early enough.¡±

    ¡°We aren¡¯t likely to be able to cut them off on the main road, then.¡± Matt examined the map, noting a fork in the road ahead. The main road continued more or less directly east, but there was a smaller branch that arced further north. It would give him the chance to get ahead of Hethwellow, but did he want to? ¡°Any signs of Captain Morteth?¡±

    ¡°No, sire.¡± The scout shifted on her feet, blinking slowly. ¡°I saw Knights and Elves, but no sign of Wargs or Goblins.¡±

    It wasn¡¯t surprising, of course. Morteth had a garrison force; there hadn¡¯t been any real need to station mounted troops with him in Greymouth. The Imp would need to use foot soldiers as messengers and scouts, though with the snow it wasn¡¯t that bad of a problem. ¡°Did they show any signs of battle? Were any of them wounded?¡±

    ¡°No, sire. The main body of troops was moving slowly, but I didn¡¯t see any signs of wounds. It could have been the snow.¡±

    He doubted that Morteth would have been defeated without at least inflicting some wounds. The Imp still had to be somewhere to the south of the enemy, trailing along in Hethwellow¡¯s wake. ¡°Thank you. Get some rest; I fear we¡¯ll be asking a lot of you soon.¡±

    He turned to Snolt as the scout withdrew. ¡°I want a rider out and around the enemy as soon as we can manage it. We need to find Morteth and tell him we are here, ahead of the enemy force. That could mean Hethwellow starts chasing us, or he could turn back on Morteth unexpectedly.¡±

    The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.

    Snolt bowed. ¡°Yes, my liege. I¡¯ll give the orders immediately.¡±

    Matt turned back to the map as the captain left. His eyes were fixed on the terrain between the roads, where he might catch Hethwellow¡¯s force. It wasn¡¯t a bad area for a battle, he supposed. The northern road, which he was hoping to use, followed a small line of hills. So did the main road, twisting and turning through the rough terrain. Between those two roads, nestled in the hills, were a series of valleys surrounded by higher ground. It would provide a decent amount of cover for movements, with the forests and hills allowing entire banners to be concealed. At the same time, marching over that ground would be difficult; snow, mud, and hillsides were not a good mix for already exhausted men.

    Still, he couldn¡¯t afford to let the opportunity to slip away. The chance to surround the enemy was too good to pass up. If they could manage it, he might even be able to convince the enemy to surrender without a fight.

    Somehow, he doubted he would be that lucky.

    When the army broke camp, Matt ordered them to set a grueling pace. Turning north when they reached the fork, they marched hard through the freezing snow to head off the enemy army.

    Matt continued to receive more information as they moved, a stream of scouts that rotated through the line as the day wore on. More and more of them spoke of Hethwellow¡¯s troops moving north, though they had appeared to wait in camp until midmorning. Hopefully that was a sign of the Knights¡¯ fatigue, but if it was simply overconfidence or apathy, it would work out just as well.

    It took until midday before the first messenger reached him from Morteth. The rider was exhausted, his Warg panting so hard that it looked like it was emitting a continual puff of steam. Matt listened closely as the rider spoke. ¡°Capain Morteth sends his gratitude and regards, sire. He says that he is still a few hours¡¯ march south of the enemy, but his men are ready to march, and are already following their movements. They have still avoided battle, aside from a few skirmishes between scouts, and are ready to confront the invaders at your order.¡±

    Matt struggled to arrange his map on Nelson¡¯s saddle horn, folding it in a way that showed the narrow slice of terrain he needed to see. From the messenger¡¯s description, Morteth was following the invaders just as closely as he had hoped. Relief swept through him, even as a sudden ache twisted through his arm. ¡°Send him my compliments for his work and tell him we intend to try to cut off the enemy¡¯s advance to the north. We¡¯ll catch the bastards between us and make sure he can¡¯t escape. Tell him to continue to chase them, but to not engage until he can be sure that we are nearby.¡±

    The messenger saluted and then fell away. As he did so, Captain Snolt spoke with the Goblin, before continuing up to pause alongside Matt. ¡°Will we be fighting today, sire?¡±

    ¡°Possibly. It depends on how quickly we can move, Captain.¡± Matt hoped the battle wouldn¡¯t happen that soon, but it was really going to be up to Hethwellow. If the Knight was bold and confident, he might try to fight as soon as he knew Matt was present. If not, they could spend plenty of time chasing one another through the snow. ¡°Tell your men to be ready and keep the scouts and messengers moving. We can¡¯t afford to be taken by surprise.¡±

    Snolt nodded and fell back with a grimace. Clearly, the Goblin was looking forward to another raid, but this fight was going to be very, very different. There wasn¡¯t going to be any way to ambush Hethwellow, not if the enemy had any competent scouts out, and there was a big difference between a nearly undefended village or a thinly guarded caravan and an army of fully armed and awake soldiers.

    He looked around at his men again, feeling a slight sense of unease. They had marched well so far, but would they hold up in the fight? Four of the banners were mounted troops, better committed to flank attacks and lightning strikes than holding ground. There were another four banners of Irregulars, with mismatched weaponry and a loose kind of discipline that Matt knew better than to trust. The mustered farmers might be armed with something approaching a proper polearm, and their presence was better than nothing, but it was going to take a miracle to ask them to stand up against real fighters.

    Aside from them, he had four banners of Spears, one of Footmen, and Vumorth¡¯s banner of High Guard. He still didn¡¯t know what kind of magic that the High Guard could use, and he didn¡¯t know how well he could rely on it, especially with banners full of Wizards on the opposite side. At the very least, their black and gold-painted armor seemed impressive, even despite their small stature.

    Still, he needed to use the troops he had available, not ones that he wished he had. Matt tried to ignore his own pains and focus. The coming hours would be crucial.

    The men marched quickly, perhaps motivated by news of the approaching enemy forces. A sense of excitement had risen among the infantry, with many of them clutching their weapons more tightly and stepping more quickly. Even as the wind began to rise, blowing snow across the path and stinging their faces, they started singing for the first time, raising their voices in a marching cadence time and time again.

    It was unfortunate, then, when Matt suddenly realized his mistake.

    ¡°They¡¯re west of us?¡±

    ¡°West and south, sire. Here, more or less.¡± The Goblin reached over to tap a spot on Matt¡¯s map. It showed a group of hills behind his army, close to the road they had just marched along. ¡°They turned an hour ago, but we didn¡¯t catch it. If they keep on that pace¡ª¡±

    ¡°They¡¯ll slip past us, or even cut off our line of supply.¡± Matt grimaced, a cut off curse on his tongue. He gritted his teeth for a moment. ¡°We march north and west. We can still cut them off if we move quickly enough. Move!¡±

    Matt¡¯s army left the comfort of the road and discovered the fresh misery of marching through the snow-covered terrain instead of the relatively clear path. Underbrush clutched at paws, hooves, and boots. Snow concealed dips and holes in the terrain that threatened to break ankles or half-bury an unwary marcher in an instant. The hills made it that much worse, adding the complications of steep inclines and declines, as well as the occasional creek of freezing water that they needed to wade through. Those soldiers who had been singing before were now cursing and muttering instead, likely no longer happy to be on this grand adventure.

    Nelson wasn¡¯t exactly pleased with the situation either, grunting and snorting along as Matt guided him along the forested hills. The warbuck was at least a little steadier than some of the Wargs, who occasionally slipped in the snow, but the beast was no happier than any of the men on foot. Matt still preferred the grumpy mount to going along on foot, however, so he simply tried to ignore both the way the warbuck¡¯s movement jolted his wounds and the unpleasant slowness of the advance. He had to remind himself of how hard the Knights would be finding things too, trying to avoid picturing an enemy sprinting through the snow to outflank him and escape the trap.

    The afternoon wore on, with the unending grey clouds still shrouding the sky. Scouts were reporting in more quickly now, not having to ride quite as hard between the armies as the distance closed. Another messenger reached him from Morteth, whose banners were marching hard to try to maintain their position behind the invaders. He had lost ground on Hethwellow¡¯s force, also missing the Knights¡¯ turn to the west, but they were attempting to close the gap. Welcome news, as long as Hethwellow didn¡¯t try something tricky. A shadow of the nightmare that would happen if the Knights turned towards Redspire lurked at the back of Matt¡¯s mind, but he tried not to focus on it.

    As the sky darkened, a scout rode hard through the ranks, his face stricken with panic. ¡°Sire! The enemy has turned again. They are coming straight towards us!¡±

    Matt jerked Nelson to a halt and gestured for the rest of the army to do likewise. ¡°How far?¡±

    ¡°No more than an hour, my liege. They are marching hard!¡±

    Despite the sudden threat, Matt grinned. Hethwellow was charging straight for him, just like he wanted him to. ¡°We¡¯ll withdraw north and east. Quick march through the hills. Let¡¯s move!¡±

    The following hour had his men pushing their way through the wilderness, heading away from Hethwellow. Morteth reported in again, telling him he¡¯d turned inside the course of the other two armies, cutting down the distance he¡¯d lost. Matt sent the messenger back with orders, though the exhausted woman seemed ready to fall off her Warg. ¡°Tell him to keep moving, but if the enemy turns to attack him, to withdraw to the south and east. We¡¯ll move west and south in that case; that will put us all closer together, and keep them cut off.¡±

    As the messenger wearily turned her Warg to head back south, Matt turned his attention back to his men, just in time to see a few men of the Seventh Spears slide partway down the next hill. He grimaced and spurred Nelson forward again as others of the Seventh stepped forward to help their friends. It was going to be a long day.

    The back and forth chase continued until night finally fell. Matt almost expected the Knights to continue their pursuit, but apparently the combination of darkness and snow was enough to discourage it. His own soldiers were nearly dead on their feet, slipping and staggering as they set up a crude campsite in the middle of the trees. Captain Worak had pointed out a decent hilltop where the army could rest comfortably; the thickets of trees had kept the snow from gathering too deeply, and provided plenty of wood for the mages to dry out and set alight. Soon enough, the camp was alight with the glow of campfires, along with the grumblings of exhausted men. Weary sentries took up positions on the edge of camp, in case Matt had been wrong about the lack of an approach from the south.

    They weren¡¯t alone in seeking solace from the cold. Hethwellow¡¯s troops had come to a halt in a valley a few hills away. Their fires were mostly invisible, but their glow lit the sullen clouds that concealed the stars above. A fair distance beyond that, the sparkling lights of Morteth¡¯s camp showed where the Imp commander had come to rest, on the crest of another hill. It seemed so close, despite the rough terrain and forests that Matt knew divided them. He could see some of his soldiers peering to the south, their eyes looking for signs of danger or reassurance.

    Matt turned away from the sight, looking to his own tent. The lifeguards had been insistent on clearing the campsite and setting up his equipment from the first day that they had left Redspire. They seemed fiercely devoted to it, in fact, to the point that he suspected they didn¡¯t want the extent of his injuries to be revealed. Either that, or perhaps they hoped it would earn their families the same compassion he had shown to their fallen friends. They needn¡¯t have worried; just by volunteering to guard him, they had earned his support. Not that he didn¡¯t appreciate the fact he didn¡¯t have to force his freezing fingers and aching body to fight with tentpoles and fabric in the middle of the snow.

    He nodded to the lifeguards as he stepped inside the tent; they returned his gesture with a slight nod of their own. They didn¡¯t stop looking for threats outside, however. Apparently, the other sentries for the camp didn¡¯t matter when it came to their responsibilities. It wouldn¡¯t have surprised him if they had come up with an entire watch schedule of their own to keep his tent secure.

    Inside the tent, he found a small traveling writing table, with his map already fastened to it by some handy little clamps. He felt an irrational kind of appreciation for that innovation, touching the wooden side of the table briefly. His bedroll was laid out on the far side of the tent, where he could see the shapes of two more lifeguards standing on the far side of the fabric. Nobody was going to be coming through the night for him in that direction either, apparently.

    At the very least, the map showed encouraging signs. The frantic maneuverings had born plenty of fruit, with Hethwellow¡¯s forces now wedged to the south and slightly to the east of his own troops, and Morteth stationed further south and east from there. Those positions meant Hethwellow wouldn¡¯t be able to run straight for either Redspire or Ashpeak without confronting one of the armies, and if he committed to one of them, the other could be at his rearguard in short order. The enemy was surrounded now. All that remained was to tighten the noose without hanging himself.

    Matt shook his head at the mixed metaphor, wondering how tired he was. He loosened his armor and stepped over to the bedroll. It had been a long day, but he was certain that tomorrow was not going to be any less tiring.

    The dance began again early the next morning.

    Matt awoke to the sentries shouting; the enemy had broken camp early. His own soldiers were suddenly in a rush of preparation, packing away their own tents and bedrolls. Matt was still stumbling to Nelson¡¯s side as the lifeguard packed away his own kit. By the time the camp was underway, the enemy was already coming, their banners cresting the summit two hills to the south. Beyond that, he saw signs of Morteth¡¯s camp moving too.

    It was close, but they moved just quickly enough to avoid contact. The enemy did not give up, of course, pushing forward hard. Matt debated whether to turn and fight immediately; it would be better to begin the combat on his own terms than to allow Hethwellow to choose the battlefield.

    At the same time, he wanted the pompous fool to die when the time was right. The battle would happen when Matt decided, not before.

    The chase lasted the entire morning, not even pausing for a break at midday. His soldiers continued their hard march, eating as they stumbled up and down the snowy hills. Snow began to fall as afternoon set in, drifting down from the ever-present clouds in an increasing flurry. By the time the enemy halted, his own soldiers were staggering through the snow.

    Hethwellow hadn¡¯t stopped, however. Instead, the enemy reversed course, driving hard at Morteth¡¯s forces. Matt shouted his own men into following, hearing and feeling the desperate exhaustion of his troops as they stumbled back over the same terrain that they had just marched over. It was worst among the Irregulars, who did not have the same discipline of the more professional warriors, but even the Hunters and High Guard were grumbling. At the same time, they could see the enemy chasing their fellow soldiers. Stopping now would be to abandon their friends to the same fate they¡¯d been avoiding. Between that motivation and the shouted orders of their captains, they kept moving, at least until night finally fell.

    So it continued for another two days, as Hethwellow¡¯s forces charged back and forth across the snowy landscape, lashing out like an enraged, cornered bear. The desperation of the enemy was clear. They marched in the steadily falling snow, ignoring the biting cold and the mire their boots stirred up on the hills. Once, they attempted a night march, trying to catch Matt¡¯s troops unawares. Another time, they used the road as they crossed it, trying to slip past Matt¡¯s forces to the east. Skirmishes between scouts and messengers grew more and more frequent, forcing Matt to deploy parts of the Hunter banners to guard those flanks.

    By the time the army staggered to a halt on the last day, the light long since faded from the grey sky and the snow still dropping all around them, Matt wondered if the Knights were ever going to stop. His troops were tired; Morteth¡¯s had to be exhausted. How could Hethwellow¡¯s men keep going? How much longer could his troops keep up, too? It seemed like they had marched across half the High Peaks, even though they had retraced their steps so often that the actual area was not all that different from where they had started.

    As he staggered to his tent, still sore and aching from the day, Matt gave a grateful nod to the lifeguards who had set things up for him. He¡¯d long since abandoned mistrusting them; his mind was too tired for those kinds of games now, and they were probably too worn out to do anything more than their actual duty. At least, he hoped that was the case.

    His familiar table was waiting for him, the map fastened to it. He looked it over, reviewing their position. Hethwellow had once again chosen a low place for his camp, this time a small field between the hills. It wasn¡¯t as steep as some of the other valleys, but it still gave Matt and Morteth both the chance to camp on nearby high ground. This time, all three camps were in clear sight of each other, with not quite enough trees to conceal them. Of course, the continual snow was doing more than enough to make things difficult.

    Matt shook his head. The amount of snow was starting to concern him. It was no longer just making things slippery and concealing potholes. He¡¯d seen men having to force their way through knee deep snow in several spots; a quick march in any direction was starting to become impossible. Was he even going to be able to evade Hethwellow if the Knight moved fast enough?

    He spent a few more minutes looking the map over, hoping that Hethwellow wouldn¡¯t try for another night march. Then he stumbled over to his bedroll, falling into it with a thump and a sigh. The pain in his arm and chest didn¡¯t even bother him anymore, and the possibility of removing his armored surcoat to sleep was ridiculous. As he drifted off to sleep, he just hoped that the sentries would stay awake enough to keep them all from being ambushed and killed.

    A cheerful thought to dream about. If he had dreams, of course.

 B1Ch21: Follys End

    Morning came, and with it, no shouts of warning. No alarms or whistles or battle horns. Just snow.

    Matt poked his head out of the tent, scarcely believing his eyes. The men were blearily going about their tasks, carefully reviving cook fires and giving themselves the hope of a warm morning meal. Snow was still falling, but it had slowed to a desultory flurry that barely added a dusting to the slurry already on the ground. Those who had been on guard during the last watch were trading places with the ones assigned to the morning duty. He walked to the nearest sentry position, still disbelieving.

    It was still hard to see through the morning flurries, but the picture was clear enough. Smoke was still rising from Hethwellow¡¯s camp, and from Morteth¡¯s camp beyond that. The Knights weren¡¯t moving. Had they given up? They couldn¡¯t have many supplies left. Any caravans from home would have been cut off, and they had no real chance to pillage anything in the wilderness. Had they really decided to rest?

    Matt looked over the ground they stood on again, this time through new eyes. The flat terrain would make cavalry charges easy, compared to the hills. His Riders and Hunters would like that, but the infantry wouldn¡¯t. The hills around the overlarge clearing would allow him to keep easy watch, but it also meant that he wasn¡¯t going to be sneaking up on Hethwellow any time soon. There was a way to do it, of course, but it would depend on the Knight being both overconfident and exhausted. Perhaps it would work after all, if the armies stayed where they were for the next night.

    Captain Karve approached, his stride both wearied and difficult. The Orc captain saluted him and then glanced at the distant camp. ¡°My liege, what is our plan? It appears our enemy is content to rest in camp for the day.¡±

    ¡°I see no reason not to follow their example, then.¡± Matt grinned a little, and Karve seemed to relax. The relief on the nearby sentry¡¯s face was plain. ¡°Have the men eat and rest a little this morning. We¡¯ll keep regular watches, but I don¡¯t think they are going to be running us ragged over the hills this time.¡±

    Karve nodded. ¡°I agree, my liege. They have to be just as tired as we are.¡±

    Matt turned back to the distant camps. ¡°Once we have a little more rest, I want the men to start digging in here. Nothing complicated, just a few mounds of earth and stakes to keep cavalry off of us. They don¡¯t need to make it really good. Consider it practice.¡±

    The captain nodded slowly, his expression growing serious. ¡°So we will not march from this place?¡±

    ¡°I see no reason we would need to.¡± Matt gestured to the clearing. ¡°The enemy is here, and so are our reinforcements. They¡¯re hiding in their camp, and we have them cut off from reinforcement and supply. Think of it like a siege, but they don¡¯t have a fortress wall to hide behind.¡±

    ¡°I¡­see, my liege.¡± Karve looked out across the snow as well, his eyes considering the situation. ¡°Not a good situation on their part.¡±

    ¡°No.¡± Matt shrugged. ¡°I would prefer to leave them at least one way out, just to keep them from trying to fight to the death, but if they are happy sitting and starving to nothing in an empty valley, then I am more than pleased to let them.¡±

    He heard an aborted snort from the sentry, and even the lifeguards seemed to be grinning beneath their helms. Karve coughed, as if covering a chuckle of his own, before speaking again. ¡°A way out, my liege? Why offer them that chance?¡±

    ¡°Men who fight to the death are often desperate. They fight hard and have nothing to lose.¡± Matt shrugged. ¡°If they want to run and leave half of their friends in our hands, that is just as good. We can chase the rest down as they flee. Easier to take them that way.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m not sure they have the life in their legs for the run anyways, sire.¡± Karve rolled his shoulders a little, as if loosening them a bit. ¡°I¡¯m certainly not sure about the idea of running them down myself.¡±

    This time, it was Matt¡¯s turn to snort. He gave Karve a wry look, and the Orc laughed. ¡°Well, we won¡¯t have to worry about it today, at least. So I hope.¡± There was a messenger riding into camp, their Warg blowing steam and the Goblin on its back looking for him. ¡°If you¡¯ll excuse me, captain. I believe Captain Morteth requires orders.¡±

    Karve bowed, and Matt stalked off through the snow to the approaching messenger, who had now seen him and was loping closer. Cold or not, snowing or not, it was going to be a much more peaceful day.

    Hethwellow¡¯s troops did not move for the entire day, aside from the occasional attempt to send out scouts, or to intercept Matt¡¯s own scouts and messengers. They seemed keen to keep the two camps from communicating, which would make sense if Matt was in their position. Though they technically had the largest of the three armies, he couldn¡¯t imagine that being surrounded was a good feeling.

    Matt eventually settled on a system of lighted signals he could use to communicate with Morteth, reducing the need for physical messengers. A single red fireball would mean to close with the enemy; two would mean a rapid approach. Blue fire would indicate pulling back or retreating, while a yellow fireball would mean to hold position and wait. Those kinds of signals would help save time if the Knights suddenly began moving again. Matt wished he had thought of it at some point during the last few days, given how helpful it would have been.

    He''d given orders for the men to construct a bunch of mobile palisades, more just a series of stakes that could be moved up as needed. They wouldn¡¯t stop a cavalry charge completely, but every little bit would help. It helped keep his men active; though tired, it was best to keep them from growing restless as they awaited the enemy¡¯s next move.

    Of course, it didn¡¯t seem like Hethwellow had any plans of moving at all, now. The Knights remained in their camp the entire next day as well, and the day after that. Matt began to wonder if the enemy was suffering from some accident or disease; maybe their supplies had finally run low enough that they were literally starving. Yet he would have expected some kind of parley attempt if that were the case. Was the fool so stubborn he was going to see his men starve to death rather than talk?

    Either way, Matt wasn¡¯t going to just let the man sit and sulk. By the third night, he¡¯d sent Morteth a new plan to carry out and put pressure on the invaders. It was a complicated trick, but one he knew would be worth it if it brought the whole campaign to a close. The last thing he wanted to do was spend another week sitting in the snow while the rest of the Kingdom suffered. One way or the other, the invasion had to come to an end.

    It was with that realization that Matt gathered his captains, along with the most recent messenger from Morteth¡¯s camp, on the night of the third day. They crammed themselves into the tent, nodding respectfully to the watchful lifeguards as they entered. He¡¯d packed up the bedroll to make room for them around the table, where he¡¯d pinned a crude map of the clearing.

    ¡°Thank you for coming.¡± Matt paused as a rough chuckle ran through the captains. They were still a bit amused at the fact that he genuinely appreciated their attendance, but at least they were starting to loosen up around him. Being trapped together for a death march in deep snow seemed to have had that effect. ¡°Tomorrow, we are going to try to end this campaign.¡±

    His words had an immediate effect. The captains abruptly straightened up, with eager looks on some faces and worried expressions on others. Snolt grinned openly, nearly laughing. Matt wondered if he should talk with the captain of the First; that much bloodlust could not be healthy in the long term. ¡°Before we go over my plans, I want to thank you again for your hard work so far. Your determination to defend your homes, your discipline on the march, and your patience in watching for the foe, have all given us this chance.¡±

    The captains nodded, silent, and he continued. ¡°I want as many of our men to rest well and early tonight. Break up any late night gatherings at the campfires, and make sure that they are ready to move early tomorrow. By early, I mean well before dawn.¡±

    Vumorth spoke up now, her voice even. ¡°The darkness may make a night attack difficult to coordinate, sire.¡±

    ¡°I agree.¡± Matt¡¯s answer stopped a half dozen argumentative responses. He smiled. ¡°We¡¯re not going to attack their camp. They¡¯ve been digging in just as much as we have, and I don¡¯t want to have to pry them out of their defenses.¡±

    Vumorth nodded, and he traced a line on the map. ¡°Instead, I want us to move up in formation for battle. We¡¯ll take the stakes with us, and set them up here, a short distance from the camp. The Riders and Hunters will be stationed on our flanks, ready to strike as needed. Morteth will also move up, positioning himself here. I want us to be in place before the sun rises. We¡¯ll leave our campfires burning, to keep their sentries from noticing.¡±

    ¡°We¡¯ll be close to their lines, there.¡± Karve¡¯s voice was a low rumble. The captain of the Eighth Spears did not look worried, but his expression was a little more serious than usual. ¡°They would see it as a taunt. They¡¯d almost have to attack.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s what I¡¯m hoping for.¡± Matt looked around the room. ¡°We can always keep waiting here, but the longer we wait, the more likely that he¡¯ll manage to get a messenger out, or that another invader comes over the mountains. Better to be done with this, while we have him trapped and weak.¡±

    A growl of agreement rose from many of the captains, though most of the more experienced ones still seemed too sober. They likely knew that if battle happened, it was going to be an ugly fight. The numbers were too close to even, and both sides were probably tired, even with the days of inactivity. Snow had continued to fall, and just marching through it was going to be a nightmare.

    Still, they had no other real choice. It had to be done. The captains quibbled a bit, assuring themselves of their roles for the advance, and then departed. He spoke with the messenger a little longer, making sure that they would have the instructions for Morteth clear and understandable, and then sent them out into the night.

    Outside, the snowfall thickened, as if in anticipation for the chaos tomorrow. Matt watched the falling flakes for a moment through the opening of his tent. Then he turned to his bedroll with a sigh. Sleep was going to be hard to come by, probably, but he would need it just as much as the rest of his army. The morning would come quickly enough.

    The snow had kept falling throughout the night, and when the lifeguard woke Matt, it had nearly buried half the camp, from the way the stuff stuck to tents and trees. Fortunately, it seemed as if it was muffling the noise of the army breaking camp, though the weary men seemed to grumble at every bit of preparation.

    He¡¯d ordered their supplies and tents left behind, the better to move quickly and keep their strength for the fight ahead. He figured it would help keep their minds fixed on the task ahead, too, since they wouldn¡¯t have their belongings to worry about. The wooden stakes were enough to carry, half-stumbling through the dark and the cold.

    Fortunately, it seemed like the enemy hadn¡¯t realized what was going on. There was no movement from their camp, not while his soldiers descended from the hills and not while they marched forward. By the time the enemy sentries started raising their alarms, their shrill voices calling out, the men were already fixing their stakes in the ground ahead of their lines, even as the rest of the army formed up in their positions.

    Matt had arranged things in a way that he hoped would make sense. The Irregulars occupied the middle of his lines, their undisciplined ranks seeming to be closer to a mob than a military unit. They even had pitchforks in their ranks, alongside their other rough polearms, but at the very least they could hold the enemy off a little and spare some of his better soldiers the damage. It sickened him a little to see the mass of men in that way, but war had a way of forcing those cold calculations on him.

    The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

    To either side of the Irregulars, he¡¯d stationed a unit of Spears, with another two banners of Spears directly behind the Irregulars. The banner of Footmen and High Guard he had stationed directly behind those, where their crossbows and magic could support the front. On either flank, banners of Hunters and Riders waited to harass or strike at the enemy¡¯s flanks. It was a fairly transparent bid to replicate Hannibal¡¯s little trick at Cannae, but Matt could only hope that someone like Hethwellow had never heard of it, or whatever this world¡¯s equivalent to it was.

    Across the field, he could see Morteth forming his own ranks in a slightly different way. The Imp had no cavalry, so he had positioned his ranks of Spears a bit further apart, with several banners of High Guard and Foot to smother any attackers with bolts of fire and steel. Hopefully, it would be enough to keep the enemy from overrunning them, should Hethwellow choose to charge the former garrison.

    For now, however, it looked as if the Knight was focusing mainly on panic. There was obvious activity as the enemy rushed throughout their camp, bracing themselves for an attack. Whistles shrilled, horns blew, and alarmed shouting showed that Matt¡¯s attempt at surprise had been completely successful. It was enough to make him wonder if he should have tried the night attack after all, but he shook his head and dismissed the thought before reaching down to soothe Nelson. The warbuck was a little restless, though there were hundreds of men between him and the enemy. Perhaps he had gotten a bit too used to being in the front.

    Matt could understand the mount¡¯s impatience, though. Whether or not he had gotten too used to the frantic, spontaneous charges of the raids he¡¯d led, or it was just the impatience from standing relatively still in the falling snow, it was hard to keep himself back from the front. Part of him wanted to be right up with the Irregulars, to try to inspire them to stand fast. Maybe that was just the guilt from using them as a kind of bait for the enemy.

    He shook his head, dismissing the thought. There were no options that would keep them from being exposed to combat. The only thing he could do was try his best to make sure that as many of them returned home as possible.

    The shouting in the enemy camp died down a little as the invaders realized that no attack was coming. A few minutes of quiet settled in, as the numbing realization that they were truly surrounded descended on them. With Morteth and Matt¡¯s camps so close, there was no chance that they¡¯d be able to get a messenger out, and no chance for resupply. They were not going to get out of it without fighting, and their enemies weren¡¯t going to just leave or march away anymore.

    As that realization set in for his opponents, Matt smiled. He raised his voice, hoping it would carry enough for most of his men, and that the words would be repeated for the rest. ¡°Soldiers of the Kingdom! Your families and homes are depending on you. Your spouses, children, and parents need your bravery and your strength at this moment. Do not fail them! When the enemy comes to fight, show them you are not afraid! Show them you will not bend the knee before their tyranny! Show them what it means to face free men! For the Kingdom!¡±

    A slow, rumbling cheer rose from his men, and they set themselves a bit more firmly in the snow. He heard, in the distance, the muffled sound of Morteth¡¯s men echoing that cheer, and wondered if they were simply responding or if Morteth had said something similar. He hoped the Imp had done a better job than he had.

    Well, maybe not too much better, but that was a problem for after the battle.

    The cheer appeared to stir some response from within the camp itself. He saw Knights, Elves, Wizards and Dwarves begin to spread out across the field, taking up positions to answer the challenge his army had put to them. His men fell silent as they saw that massive force take shape in front of them.

    Matt had to admit, it was an intimidating sight. Their center was filled with horsemen¡ªor rather, warbuckmen¡ªall covered in heavy armor and using lances. Their banners identified them as the Order of the Griffon, Hethwellow¡¯s contingent, and Matt knew his enemy was going to be riding with them. Just behind the cavalry, he saw banners of Dwarven footmen forming up, their heavy armor dull and grim against the backdrop of the snow. Banners of armored Knights on foot spread out to either side, with more cavalry on the sides at their flanks.

    He squinted, taking a second look. Some of the cavalry on the sides seemed to be Knights, like Hethwellow¡¯s, but there were others wearing light armor, and something like robes. Were those mounted Wizards? He could see other Wizards on foot, well back from the front facing his troops, along with several banners of Elves with terrifyingly long bows. He didn¡¯t know how painful those archers were going to make things, but he wasn¡¯t looking forward to finding out.

    The enemy finished spreading out across the ground, their armored forms half shrouded by the falling snow. There was a pause, as if the enemy was hesitating before beginning the battle.

    Then a horn blew, and the invaders began moving.

    Matt resisted the urge to order a charge of his own. Everything in him fought against the need to be patient, to wait for the enemy to come to him. Charging would only sacrifice his defensive advantage, or even allow some of the enemy to break out. He had to wait, to let the enemy get close. Still fighting that urge, he saw Morteth¡¯s troops marching as well, moving in behind the enemy. They had to hold for long enough so that the other army could close in and finish the trap.

    He shook his head and focused again. The enemy was moving faster, though it was clear they were having trouble moving across the snowy field. Their foot soldiers were struggling to march faster, but they weren¡¯t able to keep up with the greatelks and warbucks their mounted companions rode. Those who were at the flanks branched off to move towards his own cavalry, while the four banners at the center steadily drew away from the rest of their troops. It was an odd decision; were they planning on charging without support? Why would they be that foolish?

    Unable to believe it, he looked to the banners at his side. ¡°Don¡¯t focus on the cavalry. Hit the infantry as soon as they come into range.¡± Then he looked back at the oncoming charge. ¡°All troops, brace for their charge! Hold firm!¡±

    Sudden explosions roared, and his attention snapped back to the flanks. His jaw dropped when he saw lightning and fire streaking out from the mounted Wizards. His Hunters were answering the assault in their own way, unloading bows as they raced along. The magic tore at their ranks, sometimes striking at Wargs and Riders that didn¡¯t exist; it was some trick of Water and Autumn that allowed the Goblins to create illusions among their ranks. He only hoped it would be enough to prevent them from taking terrible casualties as more explosions blasted into their ranks.

    More roars brought his attention back to the front, as the Wizards on foot began their own assault. He saw Irregulars being thrown from their feet as the ground exploded beneath them. His soldiers were dying, screaming, even as the ranks of Elves began to draw their bows.

    Matt sucked in a breath as those archers loosed, only to frown in confusion as the arrows fell short. Shafts littered the ground in front of the Irregulars, somehow not reaching their ranks. Had the Elves not judged the distance correctly? What was happening?

    He heard the crossbows of his Footmen slap in response, and bolts streaked out to fall among the Wizards. They started to fall, though many of them channeled some sort of shield in front of them to catch the projectiles.

    Those defenses didn¡¯t help them against the High Guard, however. They had gathered in groups, chanting together as they pointed their swordstaffs at distant targets. New explosions bloomed among the Wizards, flowers of flame and power that ripped into their ranks. The Wizards fell back slightly, as if shocked that someone had turned magic against them.

    Suddenly, a new thunder demanded Matt¡¯s attention. He looked forward to see the Knights charging, an armored wedge of flesh, iron, and magic that pointed straight at the heart of his ranks. Right at him.

    He swallowed and steadied Nelson. ¡°Hold. Hold!¡±

    For a moment, it seemed like his men steadied. They gathered in closer ranks, trying to make up for the ones who had been scattered by the magic that had burned among them. Their polearms became a forest of spikes and blades, pointed up at the Knights from behind the wooden stakes they had set in front of them.

    Then the Knights struck. It was like watching a semi truck slam into a crowd. They smashed aside the stakes, though some of the armored mounts went down as they shouldered their way through. Men and women screamed and died as the Knights rode them down, their lances stabbing and their swords flashing. Here and there a Knight staggered or was pulled from the saddle, but it seemed as if nothing was going to stop them from riding all the way through the Irregulars.

    ¡°Spears! Forward!¡± The command came instinctively, even as he saw the Knights slowed down. The momentum couldn¡¯t carry them all the way through, not completely. All the same, he felt a burst of relief as the Spears sprinted forward. Both banners in the center pushed their way through the panicking Irregulars, bringing their weapons to bear on the Knights as their charge dissolved into a melee. Those on the sides rushed forward to confront the footmen still struggling for a charge of their own, preventing those on foot from joining the cavalry.

    As his entire front line became a swirling vortex of chaos, Matt jerked his attention back up to the greater battle. He saw the Elves moving forward again. Slow. Why were they moving so slowly? The snow would make it hard, but they seemed to be unable to move even as easily as the Dwarves, who still hadn¡¯t reached the front line.

    The Wizards were moving forward as well, as if determined to ignore the occasional crossbow bolt or fire blast in their midst. Their own magic began to lash out at the Imps around Matt; Nelson shied a little as a lightning bolt crackled down to send one of Vumorth¡¯s mages flying. He felt a twist of desperation. Where was Morteth? Why hadn¡¯t the Imp attacked yet?

    He heard a howl rise above the clamor of battle and jerked his attention over to the flank in time to see the Royal First charge from seemingly nowhere into the Wizards on the left flank. The mages reacted with near-instant panic, casting half-channeled spells to little effect. The Warg Riders charged through the flame and ice to put the fangs of their mounts and their curved blades to lethal use, driving them back.

    Another howl rose from the right, and Matt turned to see the Fourth Warg Riders perform a similar charge against the Wizards on that flank, driving them back in confusion. Then the Hunters arrived as well, their bows sending a dark rain of arrows into the rear of the Knights on the flanks as well, turning their hesitant charge into a confused stumble. Where had the enemy cavalry on the flanks gone? He saw no sign of them.

    As the Wizards and Knights on foot both fell back in confusion, he saw his Spears suddenly free. He turned to the signaler. ¡°Tell the Second and Thirteenth Spears to flank the center! The Hunters can harass the foot soldiers and ride them down.¡±

    While the signaler sent the blaring notes across the field, he turned to see the banners reacting to his orders. The Spears on the flanks turned and charged into the melee in the center, increasing the pressure on the already struggling mounted Knights mired there. A few silvery arrows picked at their flanks, and he looked up as the Elves released another volley.

    He looked up just in time for explosions to tear through their ranks, ripping the gathered banners to shreds. There was another horn blowing new orders, muffled though they were by the snow, and he shouted in triumph as Morteth¡¯s banners of Spears charged into their ranks at last.

    Even as the Elves were being driven back, the Knights in the center began to retreat. They did not find it nearly as easy to withdraw, being forced to try to trample their way out of the melee in ones and twos. He saw more than one knocked from the saddle by a spear thrust, or pulled down by screaming Irregulars. Those who made it to the edge of the melee fled in disorder, running back to the banners of the Dwarves who were the only remaining intact group on the field.

    Not that it seemed the Dwarves would be that way for long. Morteth¡¯s crossbowmen had found the range at last, and a hail of steel bolts were peppering the stout warriors. So far, their armor appeared to be holding up against the barrage, but many were still staggering from the hits. Fire began to bloom in their ranks as well, as Morteth¡¯s High Guard joined his own in blasting their foes.

    What was left of the enemy was quickly being driven back on themselves, retreating into a grim bunch in the middle of the bloodstained snow. His forces chased after them, treading their flags into the slush. Crossbow bolts and fire blasts rained down on the routing enemies, while their surviving captains frantically tried to shout them back into formation. Rings of Spears hemmed them in, and the Dwarves fought their way past their panicked allies in order to present something like a united front on the outside of the mass.

    Matt spurred Nelson forward, and the warbuck tossed his head in annoyance before responding. He raised his voice, calling to the signaler at his side. ¡°Hem them in, but do not advance! Offer quarter to any who surrender! Take captives, take them captive!¡±

    The horn blasted his orders out, and the Spears halted their advance. Their enemies hardly appeared to notice, in their frantic need to escape. Some of them were quickly finding that they had nowhere to run, and Matt could feel their fear and despair rising. He rode forward, just fast enough for the men in front of him to make space so that he could get through.

    As the shouting and screams died down, he raised his voice again, hoping to be heard over the crowd. ¡°Surrender, invaders! Yield and I promise you your lives! Continue to fight, and none of you will live!¡±

    It took him three tries to be heard, but when he was, the enemy appeared to hesitate. The Dwarves actually took a step forward, as if they intended to charge the Orcs waiting around them, but others of their allies were quicker than that. One of the Wizard banners dipped and fell, and a white flag was raised in its stead. He saw them start to throw down their staves and swords, raising their hands as they stepped past their allies.

    The surrenders spread like wildfire through their ranks. Despite the frustrated and despairing shouts of their captains or allies, banner after banner fell to the ground, followed quickly by their weapons. Elves, Wizards, and even Knights were stepping forward, pulled by the Orcs who passed them through the ranks where they fell to their knees at the edges, their hands still raised in surrender.

    Those who remained looked smaller and smaller compared to the forces surrounding them. For a moment, Matt wondered if he would be forced to butcher them all in response, but then, finally, reluctantly, the Dwarven standards dipped, and he sighed in relief as the last of the enemy soldiers threw down their weapons.

    It was over, finally. The battle had been won.

 B1Ch22: A People Reborn

    The next few hours were a weary rush of activity, as his soldiers shouted their newly taken prisoners into order and searched among the fallen for the wounded. Friend and foe, all were given the chance to survive by the healers among them, who worked to apply tourniquets, to clean and bandage wounds, and splint broken limbs. Those who had not been lucky enough to survive were laid in a separate place, where Matt ordered them to be buried or burned. He tried hard to turn a blind eye to those who were obviously as intent on recovering valuables from the fallen rather than looking for signs of life.

    Once that work was done, Matt turned his soldiers loose on the enemy camp. The shouts of victory were clear despite the distance as his troops looted and burned the abandoned tents of the enemy, taking what they wished. Those who had remained behind, guarding the prisoners, stared at the sight glumly. Matt sent them a message that they would receive a portion of the plunder, something that seemed to cheer them up well enough, though the prisoners were no happier about it.

    It was already afternoon by the time the looting and scavenging were done, and by then, Matt felt like he had run a marathon. How had he grown so tired just supervising a battle?

    He shook his head and started Nelson forward again. It was finally time for him to meet with Captain Morteth. Given how much the Imp had been crucial to his plans, it would be good to see the soldier face to face.

    As he was riding through the mess of the battlefield, looking for Morteth¡¯s personal banner, Captain Snolt rode up to him. The captain was wounded; a bandage had been wrapped around his middle, and another covered a gash on his forehead. He wavered a little on his Warg, but the captain still saluted. ¡°My liege!¡±

    ¡°Captain.¡± Matt nodded to the Goblin, quietly happy that the man had survived. ¡°You did well today. I was worried those Wizards would overwhelm us. How did you get the chance?¡±

    ¡°The Hunters, sire. They have plenty of illusion and concealment techniques, so they helped us slip past the enemy cavalry and make our charge.¡± Snolt paused, touching his bandages lightly. ¡°Not that the Wizards didn¡¯t fight back. We¡¯re only lucky those ones on the mounts ran so quickly.¡±

    Matt frowned. ¡°They ran?¡±

    ¡°Just about as soon as they could, sire. It was like they were just waiting for the opening to go.¡± Snolt shook his head. ¡°Just cowardice, maybe. Though I did notice the Knights weren¡¯t the same as the Griffons. All the same, they got away mostly clean and their friends are still here.¡±

    He filed that information away for a future. A division in the Noble Races would be something he might be able to use. ¡°Still, well done, captain. Get your wounds seen to, and be ready. We¡¯ll be returning to the capital soon.¡±

    Snolt saluted, and Matt gestured for him to withdraw. The captain did so, withdrawing towards the medical tents, which Matt took as a good sign. Maybe the man had finally slaked his bloodthirstiness. Time would tell.

    He noticed a pair of Orcs walking nearby and realized he recognized one of them. ¡°Sargent Nikles! Is this your brother?¡±

    ¡°It is, sire! Maben, this is the King.¡± Nikles bowed low, followed suit by the Orc next to him. Nikles¡¯ brother was shorter than he was, but much stockier. He seemed a little stunned at being introduced to royalty, but the salute the Orc gave was steady.

    ¡°It is good to meet you, sire. My brother has had much to say about you.¡±

    ¡°All good, I hope?¡± Matt smiled, and touched the hilt of his mace. ¡°Sargent Nikles has been kind enough to teach me something of the sword, though I think I¡¯ll stay with the blunt weaponry I am used to.¡±

    Maben gave a cautious smile of his own. ¡°Yes, sire.¡±

    Nikles laughed and threw an arm around his brother. ¡°If you¡¯ll excuse us, my liege, it¡¯s been a while and we need to catch up.¡±

    Matt gestured in understanding, and the Orcs turned aside. He continued his ride, seeing Morteth¡¯s banner at last. It took him only a little longer to pick his way across the bloody battlefield to where the Imp waited.

    The tent was not an overly decorated one, looking far closer to a simple soldier¡¯s shelter than a nobleman¡¯s resting place. Morteth had apparently ordered it moved from his former camp so that he could set it up closer to the spot where the prisoners were being kept, or so Matt had overheard from some of the other soldiers. It showed a remarkable amount of foresight, though he wondered if the orders had stirred up some discontent among the ones forced to carry them out.

    As he carefully dismounted from Nelson, one of his lifeguards took Nelson¡¯s reins. Another two dismounted with him, their boots crunching heavily in the snow. He nodded to them as he approached the tent, where a single Orc stood watch outside.

    Matt glanced at the guard and then strode forward. The Orc seemed to be about to speak up, but he took one look at the lifeguards and thought better of it. Instead, he tapped a small chime attached to the entrance, as if to warn Morteth of a visitor. Matt smiled a little as he stepped inside.

    He found Morteth waiting for him in a chair behind a low table with a map of the area spread across it. Captain Vumorth was there as well, her armor still scorched from a near-miss by a Wizard¡¯s lightning bolt. She seemed caught between worry and defiance as she stared back at Matt. In response, he simply nodded to her, and turned his attention to Morteth himself.

    The Imp looked almost like a less-refined version of Lord Torth. They shared the same brilliant green cats¡¯ eyes and a similar purplish coloring to their scaled skin. Where Torth had been thin and wiry, however, Morteth looked squat and well-muscled, almost like a reptilian chimpanzee. It was a comparison that fell apart as soon as Matt saw the intelligence in the man¡¯s eyes, however. No ape had ever been that deviously clever, which was probably a good thing for his ancestors.

    ¡°Captain Morteth. It is good to finally meet you.¡±

    Morteth¡¯s eyes went to Vumorth. She nodded slightly, and he rose from his chair and bowed. ¡°The honor is all mine, King Matthew. Your continual efforts on behalf of my men and myself have preserved my life and my people.¡±

    ¡°All my brilliant ideas, if that¡¯s what they were, wouldn¡¯t have worked half as well without your bravery, dedication, and sacrifice, Captain Morteth.¡± Matt stepped forward, extending his hand. ¡°Among my people, shaking hands is an expression of trust and friendship.¡±

    ¡°So I have heard.¡± Morteth¡¯s lips twisted into a kind of wry smile. Matt noticed what seemed like dozens of small scars lining the Imp¡¯s skin. How long had this man been a soldier? He grasped Matt¡¯s hand and shook it firmly. ¡°You honor me again.¡±

    Matt laughed a little. He stepped back a little as a lifeguard brought in another chair for him. ¡°Well, get used to it. If you keep doing such good work, I¡¯m going to have to give you all kinds of titles in thanks for it.¡±

    He fell into the seat, gesturing for Morteth to retake his own. ¡°As it is, I¡¯m already having to search for another way to reward a Defender of the Realm. Do you have any suggestions?¡±

    The question seemed to take the captain completely off guard. Morteth looked at Vumorth again, but she seemed just as shocked as he was. ¡°I¡¯m¡­not sure what you mean, my liege.¡±

    His obvious confusion nearly provoked another laugh, but Matt managed to keep it to a smile instead. ¡°I¡¯m asking how I can thank you for your work, Captain Morteth. I do have some ideas of my own, but I¡¯d like to hear your thoughts first.¡±

    Silence followed the question, slightly different this time than the one that had come before. Morteth and Vumorth looked at each other, their expressions equally unreadable. They had to know the question was a trap; neither of them was so idealistic that they wouldn¡¯t see it. If Morteth asked for more military authority, he would be seen as trying to solidify power in the army, which could be used to usurp the throne. Asking for more land or political power would reveal the same kind of ambition, from another angle. Even just demanding a place of pride during the coming victory parade could reveal disloyalty by looking for a chance to gain fame and appreciation among the people. There were very few things Morteth could ask for without placing a knife at Matt¡¯s throat.

    Yet asking for nothing would be just as suspect, of course. Morteth had performed exceptionally well; some measure of glory and reward was due. If Morteth refused to take that reward from Matt directly, it could be taken as a sign that he felt no loyalty to the throne, and didn¡¯t want to take anything from a king that he didn¡¯t respect. Either way, the captain could easily present himself as a threat to Matt¡¯s authority. Of course, he could have already become a threat; Matt had just dragged the possibility kicking and screaming out into the open.

    Morteth had to have thought through all those possibilities, as the silence stretched on. When the captain looked back at Matt, his expression grew firm, perhaps even obstinate. Matt forced himself to relax back into his chair, ignoring the throb of pain that radiated out from his chest. The decision had been made.

    ¡°Sire, the favor I ask is one that some might find¡­objectionable.¡± The captain raised his chin slightly. ¡°I will accept whatever honors and responsibilities you see fit to grant me, but what I truly wish is a personal boon.¡±

    Matt raised his eyebrow, hoping that his heart wasn¡¯t hammering hard enough in his chest that the Imps could hear it. He gestured for Morteth to continue.

    ¡°There is a family of Ashrock Imps that lives in a village to the south.¡± Morteth glanced at Vumorth, who had stirred slightly. When she went still again, he continued. ¡°I wish for them to be granted titles of nobility and a small patch of land. Where the land will be is unimportant, as are the titles.¡±

    The request was so grave that Matt found it hard not to sound incredulous. ¡°You wish for them to be a part of the nobility? Why?¡±

    Morteth¡¯s lips twisted. He glanced at Vumorth one final time and then looked away. ¡°I respectfully decline to answer, sire.¡±

    Matt stared at the Imp, his mind running through the possibilities. Technically, as King, Matt had the power to ennoble anyone he chose. It was a risky thing to do, however. First, creating a new family of nobles could be seen as a strike against the existing nobility, especially from a clan that had been traditionally suppressed. Undermining the nobility was something he normally had no problem with¡ªthat was half the reason the freeholders existed, after all¡ªbut going too far would provoke the existing nobles to rebel, even more than they already were.

    At the same time, if this favor was all that Morteth was asking for, it meant that the captain intended to stay loyal. Matt had offered him the chance to ask for more, and if he denied the Imp his help now, he would turn a possible ally into an immediate enemy. Given how competent the man was, could Matt afford to have him turn against him? Which would be worse, the discomfort and envy of a few nobles, or the hatred of a respected general?

    He frowned, leaning forward a little in his chair. ¡°You are correct that many would find your request unusual, Captain. If you do not want your reasons known, would it still be acceptable for me to announce that it is a favor I was giving you? That is to say, is this a boon that you would want publicly known?¡±

    Morteth blinked, his stubborn expression lessening slightly. ¡°I¡­believe so, sire. It would be fine if they know it was me who made it possible.¡±

    ¡°Then it will be done.¡± Matt reached forward to tap the table. ¡°Please let me know the names of the Imps involved, and I will send the announcement as soon as we reach Redspire. I would do it sooner, but I think the declaration and lands would be better chosen at home.¡±

    The tension in the room abruptly flowed out of them, like water spilling from a breached dam. Morteth slumped back in his chair, tilting his head back and closing his eyes. ¡°Thank you, sire. You have my gratitude.¡±

    Still mystified by the whole affair, Matt shrugged uncomfortably. ¡°Save your thanks until you hear what else I have planned for you, Captain. Or, I should say, Marshall.¡±

    Morteth¡¯s head came up. His eyes opened. ¡°Marshall, sire?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ve decided that you are due a promotion.¡± Matt smiled. ¡°Currently, as I understand it, you were given command over your current forces mainly due to your command over Greymouth. Aside from that, you only have the immediate command of the Third High Guards.¡±

    Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on Royal Road.

    Morteth nodded. ¡°Yes, sire, that is accurate.¡±

    ¡°Well, now I am giving you command over every banner guarding our eastern border. You will have the personal authority to organize and direct their actions, aside from whatever commands I give them, for as long as they are stationed on this front.¡±

    The Imp suddenly sat up straight, astonishment written across his scaled features. ¡°Sire. All of them?¡±

    ¡°All of them.¡± Matt continued in an easy voice, as if he hadn¡¯t noticed Morteth¡¯s shock. ¡°Your noble title will be adjusted as well, to that of Margrave of the East. It will help you navigate the need to override other nobles when they object to your orders. If it is not enough, then communicate any issues you might encounter to me, and I will handle it.¡±

    Morteth¡¯s mouth opened and closed repeatedly, as if he was having trouble finding the words. When he finally managed to get the words out, he sounded half-strangled. ¡°I¡ªI am honored by such trust, but I do not¡ª¡±

    Matt waved the attempted protest away. ¡°You¡¯ve more than earned it, Marshall. In addition, I¡¯m going to have your troops join us for the triumph in Redspire, and you¡¯ll be able to add Guardian of the East to your titles. Do you have any questions, Margrave?¡±

    The Imp seemed too stunned to keep up, but he managed to shake his head. Matt nodded to him and continued. ¡°Now, I feel we should also honor the troops who fought with us as well. Choose five men who demonstrated bravery or wisdom during the fight, and we¡¯ll give them an Award of Valor. I¡¯ll be choosing five among my forces as well.¡±

    Morteth nodded mutely, and Matt stood. He reached out his hand again, and the commander stared at it dumbly for a moment. Then Morteth¡¯s brain appeared to catch up, and the Imp threw himself up and out of the seat. He clasped Matt¡¯s hand a moment later, shaking it a bit more roughly than he had the first time. Matt gave him a confident smile. ¡°It will be good working with you, Margrave.¡±

    The Imp¡¯s mouth worked for a moment in silence. ¡°Y-yes, my liege. You have my thanks¡ª¡±

    ¡°And you have mine. Now, I¡¯m sure you are busy. I will leave you to it.¡± Matt straightened up, giving Vumorth a silent look. The captain blinked in surprise and then came to attention. He let go of Morteth¡¯s hand and then strode out of the tent.

    A gust of cold met him as he walked back into the embrace of winter. He made his way over to where the lifeguards were still holding Nelson. There he paused, making a subtle show of adjusting the warbuck¡¯s saddle and reins. When he turned back, Captain Vumorth was there, still standing at attention.

    The High Guard captain still looked mildly stunned, but some of her calm, professional expression had returned. She did not quite seem to meet Matt¡¯s eyes. ¡°My liege.¡±

    ¡°Captain Vumorth.¡± He glanced towards the tent, but neither the guards nor Morteth himself had approached. ¡°I wasn¡¯t exactly surprised to see you with the Margrave, but some notice would have been helpful.¡±

    ¡°I apologize, my liege.¡± The captain¡¯s voice was formal. One who hadn¡¯t been watching for it might have missed the slight unsteadiness in it. ¡°The¡­Margrave is my uncle. I had thought to take the opportunity to catch up with him.¡±

    ¡°I see.¡± Matt filed that information away for future use. He wondered if Gorfeld had been aware of it, or if the steward had simply thought it was beneath notice. ¡°Can you tell me the reason for his request, then? I respect his desire to keep it private, but I dislike it when I do not understand the people I depend on.¡±

    Vumorth shifted slightly, her expression now growing acutely uncomfortable. ¡°The family he has asked you to favor¡­I grew quite close to one of them.¡± She looked away, the hue of her skin growing a bit bluer. ¡°An actual relationship would not be possible due to our positions.¡±

    Matt studied her for a moment, the pieces clicking into place. ¡°Ah. I see.¡± He looked away as well, realizing how foolish it would have been to deny the request. If he had, then he might have had another enemy right next to him, ready to strike. ¡°Say no more about it, then. You¡¯re dismissed, Captain. See to your troops.¡±

    She came to attention and saluted. Then she stalked away through the snow, her face still a deeper blue than normal. Matt watched her go for a few strides and then turned back to Nelson. He couldn¡¯t help but chuckle a little. Even in this strange place, people had the same fallibilities. At least he hadn¡¯t set himself in their way; perhaps by the end of the whole catastrophe, Vumorth and her lover would be able to turn out all right.

    Time would tell.

    It took until late in the afternoon for the butcher¡¯s bill to be finished.

    In the end, it was Captain Karve that brought it to him. Matt didn¡¯t know if it was because the Orc held the least fear of him, or if the other captains were simply under the impression that the Eighth Spears had some kind of special arrangement with him. He¡¯d already heard some of the men referring to the banner as the ¡®Iron Eighth¡¯, so perhaps it was the latter. Hopefully, it wouldn¡¯t encourage Karve to do anything¡­ambitious.

    Not that the Orc seemed anything but steadfast and reliable. He bowed from the waist, only approaching Matt¡¯s desk after he was acknowledged. ¡°The estimated casualties, my liege.¡±

    ¡°Thank you, Captain.¡± Matt accepted a piece of parchment and sighed as he looked over the figures. ¡°Did we find Hethwellow? Or did he get away?¡±

    ¡°He was found, my liege.¡± Karve¡¯s blunt face showed traces of grim satisfaction for a moment. ¡°Their would-be king was killed in the fighting. I believe a farmer¡¯s pitchfork struck him through.¡±

    The absurdity of the statement forced a laugh from Matt despite his attempt to hold it back. ¡°You¡¯re joking. One of the Irregulars?¡±

    Karve nodded. ¡°From what we can tell. Not many of them survived, so I cannot guarantee which one did the deed.¡±

    Matt felt his humor vanish. Out of four banners of Irregulars, nearly half of them were dead, and another quarter lay wounded. Whoever had managed to solve Matt¡¯s personal grudge was likely burned or buried by now.

    He shook the guilt and grief away. ¡°Do your best. Whoever managed it has earned an Award for Valor, live or dead.¡±

    ¡°It will be done, my liege.¡± Karve waited as Matt read through the rest of the report, his patience an interesting compliment to the lifeguards that were standing on either side of him. The Orc¡¯s expression didn¡¯t change as Matt set the parchment aside and put a hand over his eyes. His voice, however, showed the barest trace of concern. ¡°My liege? Are you well?¡±

    Matt peeked out from beneath his own hand. ¡°I am as well as can be expected, Captain. Do not be concerned.¡± He looked back down at the parchment and closed his eyes again. The Irregulars were not the only group that had taken casualties. Almost all of the banners under his command had taken a beating, with most of them having nearly a quarter of their number dead or wounded. Morteth¡¯s troops had been less heavily punished for their participation, but the Imp had reported critical amounts of fatigue among his men, along with a terrifying lack of supplies. If the chase had gone on for a couple more days, Morteth¡¯s men might have been fighting on half rations.

    Of course, their condition paled compared to the condition of the prisoners. Not only had Hethwellow¡¯s troops already been on half rations, sickness had been spreading through the camp thanks to Hethwellow relying on some food taken from Greymouth. Apparently, the fool had just ignored the fact that the stuff had been contaminated, with predictable results among his troops. Half the Elves were apparently ready to faint by the time they had taken the field. Only the Dwarves and the Knights had been anything approaching healthy, and even they now seemed spent.

    As a result, he had hundreds of Elves, Dwarves, Knights, and Wizards who were either wounded or starving, who he now needed to drag home to Redspire. Hopefully before any more of them managed to kick the bucket. Luckily, his own supply train was still intact, or the whole mess of troops might have been put on short rations before they made the walls.

    Matt dropped his hand and opened his eyes. The situation wasn¡¯t going to change just by him ignoring it. It was time to get things moving.

    He looked over at Karve, who was still waiting for him to respond. ¡°Thank you Captain. Tell all the men that they did well. Have them bury the fallen; I know it is a lot of work, but they deserve our final respects.¡±

    Some part of his bitterness must have leaked through, because the Orc¡¯s face tightened. ¡°They gave a warrior¡¯s sacrifice, my liege. They gave their lives, but you made sure it was for a brighter future, instead of some nobleman¡¯s pride. This time, the sacrifice has meant something.¡±

    Karve fell silent, as if he had used up his allotment of words for the season, and Matt watched as the Orc struggled to regain his prior stoicism. Clearly, the Captain of the Eighth was far more dedicated to the Kingdom than Matt had expected. More importantly, he seemed to feel far more loyal to Matt¡¯s new regime than he had to the old rulers. A promising sign, as long as he never found out that Matt was only going to be here for a short time.

    Matt paused, feeling an unexpected flicker of uncertainty. He was only going to be here for another handful of months, right? Why would he feel conflicted about that now?

    He forced himself to focus, mentally shaking off the feelings of disquiet. ¡°I know, Captain. I only wish that so many of our brothers and sisters in arms had not needed to make that sacrifice.¡± Matt waved to the blood-soaked battlefield beyond the tent walls. ¡°At least their work today will lay the foundation for our peoples¡¯ future. Thank you for reminding me of that.¡±

    Karve¡¯s eyes seemed to shine for a moment, and a smile worked its way across his unwilling features. He saluted, his back straightening with perfect discipline. ¡°Thank you, my liege, for giving us¡ªall of us¡ªa chance at something more than mere war and conflict. We will not let you down, no matter what.¡±

    Matt gestured for Karve to withdraw, feeling another pang of grief and guilt as the Orc withdrew. Would Karve be so enthusiastic for a king who only wanted his time here to be temporary? For a man that had deliberately traded the lives of the Irregulars for the chance to trap the enemy and win the battle? How many more sacrifices would Karve and others like him endure before they finally turned on Matt?

    He shook his head, trying to banish those feelings again. He had too much to do to waste time on feelings of inadequacy or fraud. It wouldn¡¯t help anyone, least of all himself, if he hesitated too long on the mistakes or choices of the past. Better to continue forward, and worry about what would come next.

    It was hard to shake the feeling that whatever the future had in store for him, it was going to be a lot harder to deal with than this campaign had been.

    Thirty thousand people made more noise than Matt had expected.

    It had taken three days for his exhausted forces to make their way back to Redspire. They¡¯d marched back through the woods, and then along the snow-choked roads, dragging both prisoners and loot along with them. The wounded were carried or limped along under their own power. Matt had not pushed them, willing to let his supplies run down rather than lose people on the road. There had been a handful that had faded and fell, something that had pained him. Each grave on the roadside tore at him; the fact that they had survived the marching and fighting, only to die now, seemed like mockery.

    He''d expected another interested, but small, reception when they had arrived. What waited for his troops within the gates, however, was beyond anything he could have expected. It seemed like the entire population of the city had lined up along the roads. They were packed along the route, shouting and cheering as if they wanted to shake the snow from the rooftops. The cheering and shouting were so loud that he had trouble hearing Snolt laugh next to him; his captain seemed genuinely exuberant despite the pains of his own wounds. Matt could see the rest of his soldiers smiling and laughing as well, their steps growing lighter and easier along the cobblestones.

    Almost as surprising as the numbers of people were the differences he could see among them. There were nobles there, isolated amongst their guards and standing out in their fine clothing, but the majority of them were holding up sheathed daggers, a sign of the newly made freeholders. The ones holding up the weapons shouted all that much louder as he drew near them, a level of fanaticism on their faces that shocked him. Had he returned in the middle of some kind of riot? From what he could see of the faces of the nobles, he wasn¡¯t the only one worried about it.

    The crowds were being kept back by the Irregulars who had stayed in the city, though they looked like they could barely contain themselves from rushing in. There were some who jeered and booed as the prisoners staggered past them, but Matt had made sure to surround them with units of Spears that warned the crowds back from swarming the defeated Knights. Further back, towards the end of the column, he could already see the crowds collapsing in behind his troops, following after them.

    Up ahead, he saw a small group of people standing ready in one of the market squares. Matt blinked as he looked at the place. He remembered the well that had been in the middle of the intersection. It had been a simple, crude thing, built from rough stone and worn bits of wood and rope.

    In its place was something¡­new. It looked like a fountain, shaped from smoothed grey rock. The center of the fountain was a small pillar of the same kind of stone, with small openings that allowed water to spill out. On top of that pillar was a statue of a figure in armor, one forged from iron. How much metal and time had they wasted building it? Who had they even¡­

    His jaw dropped a little as he recognized himself in the thing. It was bigger than he was, but it had the same stance, and a copy of his mace was laid across its shoulder. The thing wasn¡¯t wearing his helmet; instead it had the crown of Redspire on its brow. They¡¯d also made it with one arm upraised, as if in victory.

    Matt hated it immediately.

    Still, he gritted his teeth and smiled, still waving to the roaring crowds around him. Somehow, he was going to have to find a way to have the thing melted down. He¡¯d just have to do it when nobody was paying attention. Give it a few days, or maybe a week or two. No time at all, really.

    Girtun and Lord Torth were both waiting for him, and both looked insufferably pleased. There were others there, too. Representatives of the Low Folk, another smattering of nobles from the Great Council. Paralus was there as well, standing a short distance away. His expression grew a bit pained when he saw the prisoners coming along, but Matt ignored the ambassador. There were even a handful of servants from the castle that he recognized, though they seemed more nervous than anyone else.

    In front of all of them, however, was Gorfeld. The steward was smiling as Matt approached; the soldiers ahead of him spread apart to give him room to get through to the ones waiting for him. He rode Nelson forward for a few moments and then pulled short of them. For a heartbeat, he forced himself to grin up at the statue, and then he dismounted. ¡°Gorfeld! You have a surprise for me.¡±

    He wasn¡¯t able to keep the edge out of his words, but Gorfeld¡¯s grin just broadened. ¡°Yes, my liege. Welcome back to Redspire, and congratulations on your many victories.¡±

    The others all murmured an echo of the words as the crowds grew briefly quiet, and Matt tilted his head to the side in surprise. Then a miraculously clean Parufeth stepped out from the bunch, holding a golden chalice that was probably worth more than everything Matt had ever owned.

    Matt watched as the Gnome dipped the cup into the fountain and then turned to hand it to Gorfeld with a grin. The steward¡¯s smile was blinding at this point, and a sense of wonder started to break through Matt¡¯s fatigue and irritation as the Imp offered it to him.

    ¡°In celebration of your victories, sire¡ªover all our enemies, whether rebels, traitors, invaders, or something more. We offer you this first drink of fresh water from the depths of the Great Cistern, as a taste of the new future you have brought us.¡±

    Matt took the cup, feeling a little numb from surprise. They¡¯d finished a fountain already? He¡¯d thought it would have taken so much more time, with the ground frozen. Parufeth had to have worked like mad to get it done. How had they¡­

    Gorfeld leaned in, his smile turning conspiratorial. ¡°I promise you, my liege, it does not taste at all like Warg shit.¡±

    The whisper broke the dam in Matt¡¯s mind. He threw back his head and laughed. Then he pulled off his helmet and handed it to Gorfeld. Turning back to the crowd, he raised the cup to them. ¡°To the future of our Kingdom!¡±

    As they once again roared in triumph, Matt raised the cup to his lips and drank deep. For once, the future tasted good.

    Refreshing even.

 B2Ch1: Promises of Peace

    Matt heard the knock on his door and sighed. ¡°Come in!¡±

    He kept his attention on the documents in front of him, trusting his lifeguard to handle any direct attempts on his life. They¡¯d been far better at catching any assassins meant for him, lately¡ªhe¡¯d heard of at least two would-be king killers that hadn¡¯t even made it into the palace¡ªand he guessed that spending all of his time being paranoid would not help him survive much better. At least, that was what he told himself when he recognized himself getting a bit too jumpy.

    Not that anyone in their right mind could blame him. Just over ten weeks ago, he¡¯d been nothing but a security guard trusted with watching over shipping containers and not much else. Now he was king over some kind of fantasy realm, with no way home and hundreds of thousands of people depending on him. The people here had already tried to kill him at least half a dozen times, and some had gotten closer than others.

    Matt grimaced and rubbed at a sore spot on his chest. The arrow wound still ached occasionally, a constant reminder that he owed the treacherous Lady Suluth a proper ¡®thanks¡¯ for her attempted coup. It was a side concern, but one he couldn¡¯t afford to forget.

    His visitor opened the door and cleared his voice, carefully respectful. ¡°Sire.¡±

    Matt looked up, seeing a bit of worry on his steward¡¯s face. The Imp had been the person who had dragged him into the whole thing, after he¡¯d accidentally killed the kingdom¡¯s former ruler, and Matt had been halfway sure that the poor fool would regret it by the end of the first week. So far, however, they¡¯d made it through. ¡°Gorfeld. Do you have news for me?¡±

    ¡°I do, sire.¡± Gorfeld hesitated, still looking concerned. ¡°Are you in pain, my liege? Should I send for the healers?¡±

    ¡°No, Gorfeld. Just a bit of soreness.¡± The healers hadn¡¯t been happy to let him ride off to battle while he was still healing, but the war against the Noble Races had been too crucial to ignore. His decision had led to the defeat of the enemy at a battle that everyone now called Folly¡¯s End, so they had constrained themselves to muttering unhappily, at least for now. ¡°What¡¯s happening?¡±

    The steward seemed unconvinced, but he shook his head rather than press the point. ¡°I have been informed that the emissaries for the Noble Races have arrived, sire. They are waiting outside the city now.¡±

    Matt let himself break into a broad smile. The Noble Races had been a constant source of threats and problems for the entire time he¡¯d been here. Now that he¡¯d broken their armies at Folly¡¯s End, he was more than ready for the chance to accept their surrender. Peace on his eastern borders would let him focus on so many other things.

    It wasn¡¯t like he lacked enough to worry about. Aside from two separate rebellions inside his borders, at least one scheming noble that kept trying to slip assassins through the lifeguard, and the constant bickering of the Great Council, there was another invasion gathering to the south, led by the so-called Alliance of Light. Solving at least one of those problems would at least simplify things a little for the future.

    Of course, it might also work to solve another of the problems he was currently staring at now.

    Matt looked back down at the desk in front of him, covered with scraps of paper with figures and other work written on them, and sighed again. When he glanced up, Gorfeld was watching him closely. ¡°Sire? Are you still going over the budget?¡±

    ¡°In more ways than one, unfortunately.¡± Matt cracked a sarcastic grin. ¡°You did warn me we¡¯d start running out of treasure to pay for things.¡±

    ¡°I did, sire.¡± Gorfeld shrugged uncomfortably. ¡°I cannot argue that your work has improved the kingdom, especially within Redspire itself. Providing clean water for the capital was an incredible undertaking, and your other projects will surely benefit us just as much. Your decision to free your serfs, and to encourage the others to free theirs, was likewise inspired¡­ but it has come at significant cost.¡±

    He sat back with a grunt. ¡°So you¡¯re seeing the same numbers I am?¡±

    Gorfeld nodded. ¡°Even with the nobility agreeing to shoulder some of the costs for mustering more troops, our treasury is significantly depleted. I estimate that by the end of the winter, we will have spent over half of it; the rest is not likely to last until summer. We need a new source of income, sire, unless you wish to risk delaying the pay to our troops.¡±

    That sounded like a terrible idea. How many times had he read histories of countries that had stopped paying their soldiers, only for their own military to take their own pay through looting, coup d¡¯¨¦tats, or other ambitious schemes? ¡°No. We¡¯ll find some other way. Perhaps once the waterworks are done, we¡¯ll scale back on our other work.¡±

    It pained him to say it, and by the grimace on Gorfeld¡¯s face, the Imp didn¡¯t like the sound of it either. ¡°As you say, sire. There is one other matter. A messenger came from Lord Grufen. He reports that the war against the traitor Itrelia continues to go well, but asks for you to come and visit his forces in the Small Heights.¡±

    Matt blinked. He frowned as he thought things over. Grufen had been one of the nobles on the edge of rebelling when Matt had taken power; only some quick maneuvering had convinced the Orc to remain in the fold, along with the Gnomish leader, Lord Nuramesh. Both lords had done well holding against Itrelia¡¯s forces in the north. Why were they asking for him to visit them now?

    It could be a simple power play, something to gain Grufen some influence in the Great Council. Matt had already awarded him the title Defender of the Realm, but the favor of the crown was always something a nobleman could use against his opponents.

    Of course, Grufen could also hope to take the opportunity to grab a bit more power for himself. If Matt arrived in an area that Grufen controlled, then the Hard Scythe Orc might try to give himself a quick promotion via a well-placed assassination attempt. Done well enough, and the Orc might even be able to pin the blame on Itrelia, while riding back to the capital as a new ruler. Grufen hadn¡¯t struck him as quite that ambitious or scheming, but Matt hadn¡¯t gotten this far by trusting any of the nobility too heavily.

    He gathered up the treasury reports, setting them in a neat stack his clerks would approve of. ¡°Did Lord Grufen say why I was needed?¡±

    ¡°His message said that the morale of the rebels was starting to fracture. Apparently, he feels that your presence in the Small Heights might be enough to break it entirely.¡±

    Matt snorted. ¡°I¡¯m really that terrifying, then?¡±

    He¡¯d meant the question as a joke, but Gorfeld nodded seriously. ¡°He seemed sincere, sire. Further, Lord Nuramesh also sent a separate letter with the same messenger. The Gnome endorsed the same request in the hopes of ending the conflict before it grows any worse.¡±

    Matt paused. Nuramesh and Grufen had been cooperating somewhat reluctantly since his arrival in the Kingdom. If he hadn¡¯t given Grufen orders to guard Nuramesh¡¯s homeland, Matt imagined they wouldn¡¯t have really bothered cooperating on anything at all. That they agreed on something now either meant the visit really was a good idea¡ªor they were getting along a little too well, and visiting them in the Small Heights would result in a new, probably better organized assassination attempt.

    Either way, he had other things to worry about right now. ¡°I¡¯ll decide on that after we speak with the delegation. They are outside the gates, you said?¡± Gorfeld nodded, and Matt finished tidying up his desk. ¡°Good. Tell the Grand Council to assemble. I¡¯ll meet the delegation at Victory Square.¡±

    ¡°Very well, my liege.¡± Gorfeld bowed. Matt tried not to notice the slight smirk on the steward¡¯s face. Victory Square seemed like an absurd name for the place where they¡¯d parked that ridiculous statue of him, but it was apparently a significant place now, and it would make a decent impact on the ambassadors coming here with what he hoped would be a peace proposal. Maybe he would get some actual use out of the thing before he managed to convince someone to melt it down.

    Roughly half an hour later, Matt waited beside the fountain while a couple of Orcs from the Eighth Spears escorted the Noble Races delegation into the square.

    There were nine of them, following along behind the Spears in a disgruntled cluster of clear outsiders. The people of Redspire treated them with contemptuous disregard, ignoring their presence as if they were unimportant. Some of the delegates appeared to be comfortable with the treatment, but he could see at least some of them were walking stiffly, with backs straightened by offense. The Dwarf from the Sunken Clans was shaking with restrained rage in his heavy armor, and the Knight that wore the crest of the Anchor seemed little better. All three Elves appeared to wish to be anywhere else, however; they clustered together with the two Wizards at the back.

    Their leader was a Knight that wore the colors of the Order of the Griffon, Hethwellow¡¯s nation. She appeared to be far more in shape than Hethwellow had ever been, with armor that seemed well-cared-for. The woman was studying the people around her with a grim, fatalistic attitude, as if she expected assassins to emerge from the crowds at a moment¡¯s notice. At least, she did until her eyes fell on Matt. Then she came to a complete stop, as did the rest of the delegation.

    They all stared in his direction for a few moments longer, as if bracing themselves for the encounter ahead of them. Then their leader shook her head and started forward again, followed carefully by the rest of the delegation. The Spears escorting them strode along beside them, obviously ready for anything they might try.

    Not that Matt had any worries about what the delegates could do. He wasn¡¯t exactly waiting for the emissaries alone; the Council had assigned him a contingent of bodyguards specifically to prevent him from getting into any more danger. There were at least sixteen of them, scattered about the square with their hands already on their weapons. Any sign of an attack would draw an instant response that would leave every one of the would-be assassins dead, likely before any of them accomplished anything at all.

    Matt waited until the delegates had gathered around him. Then he gestured for Gorfeld to hand him a simple bronze cup. ¡°Welcome to Redspire. It is my hope that you are here to embrace peace with us. Am I correct?¡±

    The delegates exchanged looks for a moment, their expressions ranging from incredulous to outraged. Their leader was the one who answered, her voice tight with anger. ¡°We were sent to seek a truce with you, tyrant. The gods have blessed you with victory in war, and we have no choice but to recognize the circumstances we find ourselves in.¡±

    Matt raised an eyebrow at being called a tyrant¡ªtechnically, it was kind of true, but it wasn¡¯t like he¡¯d wanted the job at first¡ªand then nodded. ¡°I¡¯m glad to hear you see reason, lady knight.¡± He turned and dipped the cup beneath one of the streams running from the fountain. ¡°When I returned to Redspire, they welcomed me with a drink from this fountain as a sign of the future. I offer it to you as well, in the hopes of a¡­new start. One that will hopefully wash away some of the bitterness.¡±

    He held out the cup to her, and the Knight actually took a step back in response, as if he was offering her a drink of poison. Matt simply stood, waiting, as if pretending he didn¡¯t notice the looks of revulsion on their faces. Diplomacy was almost as much about lies as espionage or war ever were, after all.

    The Knight looked from him to the cup, and then back again. He raised his eyebrows, as if to ask what was wrong. She grimaced, her jaw firming up as she realized the challenge he was extending.

    Then she reached out and practically snatched the cup from him. The water inside sloshed slightly, and the nearest lifeguards tensed at the sudden motion. Matt settled them back into their places with a glance. When he looked back, the Knight was studying the cup with continued disdain. With clear expectations, she raised it to her lips and took a sip.

    The surprise on her face was as clear as it was gratifying. She looked down at the cup in surprise, then back up at Matt. He smiled at her, and she took another cautious sip. ¡°A¡­surprising start, King Matthew.¡±

    Matt nodded. ¡°If any of your companions wish to refresh themselves, the water here is both pure and freely available to any of you. I proclaim you beneath my protection, and my lifeguard will see to your safety while you are here.¡± He held out a hand, and the Knight reluctantly returned the cup to him. With deliberate unconcern, he drank the remaining water, and then handed Gorfeld the cup. ¡°If you are ready, however, let¡¯s get back to the castle. The Grand Council waits for us, and we will hear your proposal for a truce there.¡±

    She blinked. ¡°The Grand Council?¡±

    ¡°Yes. A tradition that I revived here, so that the nobles of my people could help me with their wisdom. They will consider your terms.¡±

    The Knight of the Anchor, who was still staring around at the lifeguard in contempt, abruptly snorted. ¡°So. It wasn¡¯t you making all the decisions, was it? I¡¯m glad you have the proper sorts making choices among you, at least. You aren¡¯t as ignorant as I was led to believe.¡±

    The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

    Matt fixed the man with a calm stare. Clearly, not every member of the eastern alliance had been quite as cowed by their recent losses. He remembered the battle of Folly¡¯s End and saw the riders from the Knights of the Anchor fleeing the battle long before it was lost. ¡°While your flattery is impressive, sir Knight, I¡¯m sure that most of your people don¡¯t have an optimistic impression of us. Just as we don¡¯t have a particularly courageous picture of the Knights of the Anchor, recently.¡±

    The Knight¡¯s mouth dropped open in surprise, and Matt allowed himself a smile. It was a thin, vicious twist of the lips, and he stepped in closer, ignoring the way the rest of the delegation tensed as a result. People had died enough on both sides. He wasn¡¯t going to allow some overconfident jackass to ruin the chance at ending it¡ªbut that didn¡¯t mean the arrogant fool was going to enjoy the process. ¡°Go ahead, sir Knight. Take offense. Bluster, and posture, and strut around like an outraged rooster. From what I¡¯ve seen, it¡¯s all the good you¡¯ve done for your friends in this war. No one will be surprised.¡±

    Matt saw the man¡¯s hand twitch towards his sword, but the sudden, lethal attention of the lifeguards stayed the Knight¡¯s instinctive first response. ¡°I-I¡ª¡±

    ¡°This is not some barnyard, sir Knight. You can impress the hens somewhere else, but if you open your mouth one more time, I will just make peace with every other member of your coalition except you. Then the brave Knights of the Anchor can see how they fare against me alone.¡± Matt stepped forward again, staring up at the man steadily. He stared back at Matt, his face undergoing several interesting changes in color, before he finally jerked his head away and nodded.

    Satisfied, Matt stood back. He looked among the others, whose expressions were pale and horrified. ¡°Good. I have every hope that we can reach a lasting truce on both sides.¡± Then he paused. ¡°Remember, though. I gave Hethwellow a warning. War can begin when you choose, but does not always end when you want it to. This war is one you all started. Now it will end when I want it to. So please, be convincing.¡±

    The members of the lifeguard and Gorfeld in particular had just barely managed to stop chuckling under their breath and being smugly satisfied by the time they reached the Grand Council chamber. It was a close-run thing, though; more than once, Matt had been forced to glare his own people back into good behavior as they walked.

    Fortunately, the Grand Council more than made up for the others¡¯ lack of dignity. The chamber itself had been reworked; the older furniture had given way to more personalized and ostentatious seating. Some of the servants had spent a significant amount of time here as well, trying to clean away the dust and the cobwebs and make the place seem less claustrophobic.

    Matt led the delegation into the chamber, noting that the Council was completely in attendance. None of the nobility had ignored his summons, which he took as an encouraging sign. The more engaged that the nobility were in this process, the less they would complain about the agreement they eventually reached. It wouldn¡¯t silence all the complaints, but it would be better than nothing.

    Matt gestured for the delegation to stop while he continued forward to the throne at the center of the chamber. He sat, taking a moment to adjust the mace that had been left for him, leaned casually against the side of the metal throne. It wasn¡¯t likely that he would need a personal weapon, not with the lifeguard taking up protective positions around the room, but the look of the thing was important.

    Then he looked up from the waiting delegates to the Council seated around the rest of the chamber. They stared back at him wordlessly, a silence falling over them as they waited for him to begin. ¡°Nobles of the Great Council, these emissaries of the Noble Races have arrived to seek a truce with our Kingdom. I know that we have been at war with them these past weeks, and that we have sacrificed much to drive them from our lands. Many of their corpses are buried in our soil, and prisoners are kept in the Tower of Blood. Despite all this, I ask you, for the good of the Kingdom, to hear their petition.¡±

    He paused, letting the words sink in. ¡°Our Kingdom faces many troubles, but this war was not one that we chose. It would be better for both our peoples if it was ended. However, it is your responsibility to make sure that we do not gain this truce, gained with the blood of so many, at the cost of hurting ourselves. Listen close, and judge well.¡±

    Matt looked back at the delegates, most of whom looked baffled. He caught the eye of the woman in charge, the one who had drunk at the fountain, and gestured for her to begin.

    She nodded, drew in a quiet breath, and stepped forward to address the Council. ¡°My name is Lady Sevlana Parthsemmans. I stand as the third daughter of the Chief Marshal of our Order, the monarch who rules over the lands of the Knights of Griffon. He has sent me to act as his guarantor and spokesman here among you.¡±

    The Knight paused, and Matt settled back in his throne, his eyebrows trying to climb up his forehead towards his scalp. If she wasn¡¯t lying, she was an enemy king¡¯s own child. Not exactly in line for the throne, but close enough to make the point. The Knights were serious about it¡ªat least the ones from Griffon. Her fellow Knight was too busy sneering at her back to seem unified on the matter.

    Sevlana continued in an even tone. ¡°The war between our peoples was a product of misguided ambition and foolish pride. Enough have died in it. Let us see it finished so that both sides may move on from it in a shared understanding.¡±

    Lord Torth stood, raising his hand to call for Matt¡¯s attention. Matt nodded to the Imp; he represented the most unified members of the Council, all of whom had a tendency to allow him to act as their spokesperson in the most important Council debates. A clever man, he hadn¡¯t seemed to plot against Matt¡­yet. Still, he was a man to be watched carefully, no matter the circumstances.

    Torth¡¯s attention was on Sevlana, however. His slitted eyes were narrow. ¡°You will excuse me, princess, for pointing out that if things had turned out differently, you would not be so eager to end things now. The war between us is only weeks old, after all. Our king has not even sat the throne for more than a full season.¡±

    A murmur of agreement spread through the hall, and Matt forced himself to stay impassive. The Council had the authority to authorize treaties and negotiations like this one. He couldn¡¯t override it without damaging that structure. If he was serious about building this place into a nation that didn¡¯t need kings¡ªdidn¡¯t need him¡ªthen he would need to let them make decisions and having debates he didn¡¯t like. Especially ones like these.

    For her part, Sevlana bit her lip for a moment. When she spoke next, her voice was carefully controlled. ¡°Regardless of why the war began, or what would have happened if our fortunes had been different, you would still have wanted it to end sooner rather than later, yes? You can¡¯t want to be facing yet another enemy on your borders, not when you have so many.¡±

    ¡°One might say that it is better to deal with an enemy who has tripped in front of you, rather than turning and letting them stab you in the back.¡± Torth raised an eyebrow at her. ¡°Now that the advantage is ours, explain why we should not do to you what you would have done to us? I believe your people had plans to burn us from our homes, and take our throne for yourselves, did they not?¡±

    Another, louder murmur spread through the chamber, and the delegates from the east drew closer together. Sevlana was left out in front, alone as she looked up at the nobility. Her face had grown drawn, but her jaw firmed. ¡°Respectfully, my lord, war is a fickle child. You have the upper hand now, but that is not always guaranteed. Right now, it is our nation that regrets its belligerence. Who is to say it will not be your Kingdom pleading for a reprieve in the days to come?¡±

    Across the chamber from Torth, an Orc wearing Red Moon colors snorted. ¡°As if any of your commanders could match our King. He¡¯s already cut your armies nearly in half. What could he do with another ten weeks?¡±

    As much as Matt appreciated the vote of confidence, he knew the situation was a bit more complicated than that. Another ten weeks would see the Alliance of Light invading from the south, and if he hadn¡¯t finished one or both of the rebels before then¡­

    He shook his head, and Torth caught the move. The Imp smiled and nodded to him. ¡°Our King has done well, Lord Schek, but I admit the lady Knight speaks the truth. Besides, who knows what new wonders he would bring us if his attention was not taken by such unworthy distractions?¡± Then Torth paused. ¡°All the same, there are many villages that lie burned as a result of these invaders, and I am reluctant to ignore those wounds just for the sake of a temporary peace. I would hear from the people¡¯s Voice before I agree to any such thing.¡±

    Matt smiled, both at Torth¡¯s suggestion and at the sudden confusion on the delegates¡¯ faces. Clearly, they didn¡¯t know much of what he had already started to change in Redspire. ¡°Voice Wokneth. Would you give us your thoughts on the matter?¡±

    An expectant silence fell over the assembled nobility. They turned to face a seat that had been placed separate from the others where an old Ashrock Imp had been sitting. Matt watched with interest as Voice Wokneth slowly came to his feet, leaning heavily on a cane to get to his feet. He¡¯d hoped that Girtun would have been here, but the blacksmith-turned-Voice had been insistent that the second Voice was just as reliable. Now was the first chance he had to see the man for himself.

    Wokneth took a moment to catch his breath before he spoke. When his words came, they were low and breathy, with that unsteady warble the elderly can sometimes have. ¡°I thank Lord Torth for the opportunity to speak on this subject, as it is dear to my heart.¡± He turned to the delegates, who were watching him with an utter lack of understanding. ¡°The honorable ones here may not know, but I was born in a village not far from Greymouth. My sons and daughters farmed there as well. At least, they did. Until a week ago.¡±

    A silence fell, and Wokneth let it continue for a few tense heartbeats. ¡°As you may have guessed, that village, and many others, is now naught but ash. My sons and their families are refugees here in Redspire, where the wisdom of their King has kept them safe. Not all of the freeholders of Redspire are so lucky. There are many who mourn their kin thanks to the greed of these invaders, and my heart cries out to hold them responsible. To make a lesson of them, so that no future men or women of ambition seek to write their legacy in our spilled blood.¡±

    Then the elderly Imp¡¯s voice broke for a moment, and he coughed. To Matt¡¯s surprise, none of the gathered nobles tried to interrupt him, and their expectant silence seemed to hold the delegation quiet as well. A few moments later, Wokneth had recovered enough to continue. ¡°Yet I urge the Council to ignore such feelings. What good would it do to punish these villains any further for their crimes? How many of my sons¡¯ fields would it plant to burn their crops to ash? Which of my daughters¡¯ homes would be rebuilt by smashing their walls? I see little that further fighting would give us, aside from their blood, and honestly, I hold that commodity of little value.¡±

    The words rippled through the delegation like a slap to the face, and the Dwarf actually started to lunge forward with a snarl. Wokneth did not budge, facing them with the courage of a man with one foot already in the grave, and smiled. ¡°As Voice of the Assembly of Redspire, I have been asked to stand against any measure I believe would block this truce, short of something the King judges a risk to our safety or honor¡ªand I will do so. Thank you.¡±

    Wokneth slowly folded himself back into his seat, and Matt had to hide a smile behind his hand. The Imp appeared more worried about sitting down than he had staring down the ambassadors of an alliance of nations. It was hard to believe that just weeks ago he¡¯d been a serf; he owed Girtun an apology for ever doubting him about his fellow Voice.

    Lord Torth cleared his throat, looking suspiciously as if he was trying to avoid a smirk of his own. ¡°Well said, Voice Wokneth. I find myself persuaded as well. A truce costs us little and avoids a price we can ill afford.¡±

    Another noble rose, this time a Hard Scythe Orc. ¡°Just because fighting gains us little doesn¡¯t mean we should allow these beaten dogs to escape so easily. Our mercy should not come so cheaply.¡± She turned to stare at the delegation below. ¡°What offer do you have for us, should we accept your overtures today?¡±

    Sevlana seemed caught between reluctance and relief. ¡°We are prepared to surrender control of the fortress of Greymouth¡­¡±

    She trailed off as a rash of growls and laughter ran through the room. A Blackleaf Goblin leaned out from her chair to speak. ¡°Perhaps offer us more than what we could take from you just by closing our fist, lady Knight? It may be received better.¡±

    Matt nodded. The fortress had been ¡®taken¡¯ by the invaders because he had left it abandoned in an attempt to convince them to split their forces. It had worked, and after Folly¡¯s End, the would-be occupiers had practically abandoned the place, leaving it held by perhaps a banner or two. Neither would hold for long against any of his forces; the only reason he hadn¡¯t bothered to send troops was because he didn¡¯t want them to trudge through the snow to reach the place.

    The Knight grimaced. She closed her eyes and breathed hard for a moment. ¡°I am also authorized to discuss tribute to be paid in exchange for a truce, so that you do not feel our request unjust.¡±

    Torth nodded. ¡°And ransom for the prisoners in the Tower, as well?¡±

    She winced, but nodded. It was clear negotiations were going to be expensive for the Noble Races, but he felt a sudden burst of relief. If they could squeeze enough gold out of the Noble Races, maybe his budget wouldn¡¯t collapse as quickly as he had believed. Not only that, but it was the kind of expense that might keep those nations from immediately reforming their army for a new attack in a year or two.

    He sat back as the Council raked the delegates over the coals and grinned. Maybe diplomacy wasn¡¯t so terrible to sit through after all.

    His opinion had changed five hours later, and not for the better. ¡°How did they spend that whole time just talking? I feel like I could have ridden out and conquered the whole coalition before they even finished hashing out the details.¡±

    Gorfeld gave him a wry look. ¡°As I recall, sire, it was your idea to turn such discussions over to the Council. Are you complaining about their desire to do it well?¡±

    Matt rolled his eyes. ¡°No, I suppose I shouldn¡¯t. I guess I am just troubled by their tendency to do it so¡­thoroughly.¡± The steward shrugged and grinned at him, and Matt sighed in response. ¡°Did you send a message to Parufeth? I wanted to go over the new plans with him today, but¡­¡±

    ¡°I did, sire. He said that you are free to speak with him whenever would be convenient for you, and that he intends on visiting the pits west of the city tomorrow morning.¡±

    Matt nodded, a picture of the coming day falling into place. He could visit Parufeth first, then check in with Sargent Nikles for some physical training. After that, he could make sure that the final negotiations with the Noble Races delegation were finished¡ªapparently it would require the creation of a magical contract that would bind both sides¡ªand from there, he could spend the rest of the day on his mantras¡­something he was technically supposed to be working on now.

    He''d been struggling through the mantras to create his first magical Source since before Folly¡¯s End, and while he had made some progress, the fact that the terrain was knee-deep in snow meant that the magic of Autumn was having a hard time establishing itself. Matt felt he was close to a breakthrough there, and Melren, the former nobleman who was coaching him in magic, seemed to be encouraged by his progress, but it was still frustrating.

    Trying to push past the distractions, Matt looked back at Gorfeld. ¡°I¡¯ll visit the work sites tomorrow, then. For now, could you send a message to the garrison? I want the six Irregular banners who stayed in the city prepare to march.¡±

    Gorfeld¡¯s eyes flashed a little. ¡°So you are going to the Small Heights after all, my liege?¡±

    ¡°I might as well get the troops ready if I do head that way.¡± He shook his head. The Irregulars were not reliable troops, essentially just freeholders that had been conscripted from farmers and laborers. He¡¯d been attempting to train them with the Crown Guard, but his more professional troops had been too busy to make much progress with them, and the casualties they had taken in the wars so far had made it that much more difficult to bring the fresh recruits up to snuff.

    Still, a commander went to work with the army they had, not the one they wished for¡ªand after Folly¡¯s End, the Irregulars were the only troops that weren¡¯t exhausted and full of wounded. Besides, Grufen and Nuramesh both had their own, more well-trained troops in the north, and Itrelia should have been running short on real forces already. Surely even a mass of raw recruits would help finish things there.

    Gorfeld bowed and then left his study. Matt turned back to the mantras he¡¯d been attempting to focus on. It would be painful, but the magic would eventually be worth it. Hopefully. Probably. He shook his head and tried to bear down and get through it a few more times before his mind gave up on it. There were too many people counting on him to give up now.

 B2Ch2: The Road North

    ¡°We¡¯ve managed to make quite a bit of progress on this part of your project, sire. I¡¯d say we¡¯re only a few more weeks away from starting in on the brickwork here as well.¡± Parufeth scratched idly at a patch of half-frozen mud that was layered on top of his right eyebrow. The Gnome seemed entirely unaware of the muck that encrusted him, even as the cold winter wind blew. ¡°I still don¡¯t quite know what you¡¯re looking to use it for, though.¡±

    The implied question made Matt smile a little. Parufeth had been an excellent foreman, and was nothing if not respectful to the man running the Kingdom and paying his workers, but the Gnome had a continual curiosity about what he¡¯d been asked to do. Matt hoped it was a sign that Parufeth was going to look for ways to improve things on his own¡ªor at least begin to share the knowledge with the rest of the Kingdom¡¯s workforce¡ªbut either way, he didn¡¯t mind the indirect questions the foreman posed.

    ¡°It doesn¡¯t look like much again, does it?¡± Matt grinned as the Gnome shrugged, though Parufeth¡¯s expression said that he agreed with Matt¡¯s statement. ¡°Do you want to guess?¡±

    The Gnome paused and then grinned a little. ¡°Well, the pit out there looks a little like one of those sand filters we built out east. It¡¯s downstream from the city, though, and the pipes you want us to connect to it are leading out into the bog. Don¡¯t think you want to purify water headed that direction.¡±

    ¡°No. You¡¯re right there.¡± Matt made an encouraging gesture. ¡°Go on.¡±

    The Gnome frowned, his brow furrowing as he studied the plans. ¡°There¡¯s also the big pit you¡¯re having us dig before that one. It¡¯s deeper and wider than the first one, and it has this funny little ramp that¡¯ll run along one side¡­and there¡¯s an opening in the bottom?¡± Parufeth fell silent for a moment, his dirty fingers tracing over the lines on the parchment. His lips moved silently as he tried to work it out in his mind. ¡°Is it a ramp for carts? It looks wide enough for a couple of aurochs to drag something through. But what are you going to want them to carry away? It can¡¯t be filtered water, or else the pipes are all set up going the wrong way.¡±

    Matt felt his smile grow. ¡°True. Almost like I want something to flow out of the city instead of in.¡±

    Parufeth glanced up at him, and the Gnome¡¯s eyes narrowed. He shifted aside the sheet of parchment, taking up another set of plans. ¡°You¡¯re right. And these other pipes, the ones we¡¯re meant to start digging under the city¡­¡±

    He waited while the Gnome fell silent again, giving him enough time to think. When the foreman made the connection, it was immediately obvious; his breath suddenly sucked in through his teeth, and he looked up with wide eyes. ¡°Is it some kind of cesspit, sire?¡±

    Matt laughed. ¡°Got it in one, Parufeth. Well done.¡± He leaned over and traced the lines that marked where the main pipes would go. ¡°Although it is not quite the same as a cesspit. With those, the waste just sits and rots away, right? And sometimes they get cleaned up a bit when they start to overflow?¡±

    When Parufeth nodded, Matt spread a hand and dragged it across the parchment, as if demonstrating the flow of human waste through the future sewers. ¡°These channels and pipes will bring the waste out of the city without carts. It will all flow here, where the pit will be dug.¡±

    Parufeth made a face. ¡°And then it will all sit here? That¡¯s¡­quite a lot of waste, sire. Are you sure the pit will be big enough?¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s not a pit, Parufeth. It¡¯s a settling chamber.¡± Matt gestured to the spot again on the parchment. ¡°It¡¯ll allow the more¡­solid¡­pieces of waste to settle to the bottom of the chamber, while the more liquid bits continue to flow forward. When enough of the sludge is gathered on the bottom, the people who used to clear the cesspits can drive their carts up alongside it and drain it out through that opening in the bottom.¡±

    The Gnome opened his mouth to protest and then paused. ¡°I see. And the liquids continue on to the sand filter, where they are refined?¡±

    ¡°Yes, though I wouldn¡¯t want to drink anything that comes from it.¡± The Gnome grunted in agreement, and Matt continued. ¡°From there, we pass the concentrated waste back out into the bog. The things living there will appreciate the extra fertilizer, and by the time the remnants are filtered back into the river, they won¡¯t be nearly as harmful to anyone downstream.¡±

    ¡°So¡­ no more cesspits in the city. That means no more cesspit cleaners, at least not inside the walls. Less smell.¡± Parufeth frowned, crossing his arms. ¡°Also means no more overflows. The public latrines won¡¯t smell nearly as bad. Or at all really.¡± He looked over at Matt with a small grin. ¡°You really didn¡¯t like the smell, did you, sire?¡±

    ¡°The smell or the taste, Parufeth.¡± Matt tapped the parchment with a finger. ¡°No more cesspits means no more overflows¡­and no more leaks. Any wells that aren¡¯t already tied to the Great Cistern won¡¯t be tainted by filth filtering through the soil. Any wells downstream won¡¯t be tainted by the mess in the river, either.¡±

    Parufeth¡¯s eyes widened slightly. ¡°Leaks, huh? You¡¯re right.¡± He turned back to the parchment. ¡°So this is the second half of the same project. Inflow and outflow.¡±

    Matt nodded, and the Gnome¡¯s face split in a broad grin. ¡°I knew you had more in store for us. What¡¯s next? Are we going to be filtering the air we breathe?¡±

    The question made Matt roll his eyes. ¡°No, Parufeth. That seems clean enough to me.¡±

    ¡°Should be a lot cleaner soon, sire.¡± Parufeth chuckled to himself. He reached over and rolled up the parchment, tucking it away carefully. ¡°Was there anything else I could help you with, my liege?¡±

    ¡°Yes, actually.¡± Matt hesitated, realizing he would need to tread carefully. ¡°I understand that you and your workers have a list of Spell Chants based around Earth and Autumn. Something that¡¯s common back home in the Small Heights.¡±

    Parufeth¡¯s expression immediately became a bit more guarded. ¡°Yes, sire. Such chants are a common secondary use of our magic, though many of our people tend to use Earth and Summer instead.¡±

    Matt nodded. ¡°I see. What Aspect do those Chants use? I was thinking of trying to use some of them for myself, if I can manage to finish it before I get the chance to visit your homeland.¡±

    The Gnome hesitated before answering, and Matt tried to not let his own tension show. As the King, he technically had a right to demand any spells his subjects had access to. At the same time, he could only imagine that trying to force his subjects to give up their spells would result in him gaining only the most disposable Chants while they hid away the rest. He needed to get access to the Chants without twisting any arms¡ªbut he also didn¡¯t have the time to be overly patient.

    When Parufeth answered, he sounded more uncertain than he had about the plans. ¡°You would use Gnomish Chants, sire? I would think you had much better options available.¡±

    Matt chuckled, hoping his nerves didn¡¯t show. ¡°Really? When I hear about who the most skilled earth-movers are, the Gnomes are always the first to be mentioned. Why wouldn¡¯t I wish to use your Chants?¡±

    ¡°We are skilled, my liege, but the Chants we use¡­¡± Parufeth shook his head. ¡°They are tools for work, my liege. For rough labor. They are not grand weapons or impressive displays. Perhaps one of the others would suit your purposes better.¡±

    ¡°No.¡± Matt met Parufeth¡¯s eyes, letting his voice grow very level. ¡°Do you see what we are doing here, Parufeth? Most people would not call it a grand show of power. They would look down on your work here, but in a year? In two? Ten? Your work here will make more of a difference than anything else that happens in our Kingdom. Others might be foolish enough to ignore or disparage it, but I will not. I know better.¡±

    The foreman¡¯s expression had grown embarrassed somehow, as if he didn¡¯t quite know how to react. He looked away for a moment. ¡°Our Chants usually use the Aspect of the Mind, sire. If you build that Foundation, you should be able to manage them very easily.¡±

    Matt felt a burst of relief, though he restrained himself from showing it. He reached out and clapped the Gnome on the shoulder, mindful of the grime that coated the man. ¡°Thank you, Parufeth. You are a good man, and our Kingdom is better for having you.¡±

    The Gnome muttered a little, something that sounded like an expression of gratitude. Then he turned away, wandering back to where the laborers were still hacking their way through the frozen soil. Matt watched him go for a moment and then turned back toward the city. It was a fair distance away from the work site, but it wouldn¡¯t take him long to reach the walls.

    Hopefully, someone wouldn¡¯t manage to stick a knife in him before he reached them.

    ¡°So the moment I sign this paper, I¡¯ll be bound by it?¡±

    Matt studied the unprepossessing parchment. It didn¡¯t seem any different from any other piece of crude paper. The terms of the truce were scrawled across it, hammered out in yet another hours¡¯ long session that Matt had declined to attend. Instead, he¡¯d spent the time with Melren, feverishly trying to push through the last barriers to establish the Autumn portion of his magical foundation. The fact that Parufeth had hinted that some of their Spell Chants would be useful to him if he managed to finish things had given him additional incentive to get the work done, even if he was driving poor Melren up a wall with his constant distractions.

    ¡°That¡¯s correct, sire.¡± Melren leaned over to spread the parchment a bit, indicating the signatures already littering one side of the bottom of the sheet. ¡°You can see that the Noble Races¡¯ representatives have already added their signatures. They will be just as bound by it, and the penalties will be magically enforced if they are broken.¡±

    Given what those penalties were, Matt had no intention of testing that statement. If either party initiated hostilities before the three-year term of the truce expired, then the monarch of the offending side would be magically compelled to appear in the other side¡¯s capitol, without escort or arms. It would basically be an immediate death sentence for the ruler involved, and if they weren¡¯t prepared, it might result in their people being absorbed by the offended nation when the ruler was killed and lost the Divine Right to the territory. A similar result would happen if the Noble Races failed to pay their tribute.

    Finally, if the ransom was not paid for the prisoners within a month, the prisoners would be magically compelled to be returned, and permanently required to join the side of the Kingdom. If Matt refused to return the prisoners within a week, an equal number of his own troops would be sent in their stead.

    It was an interesting way of guaranteeing that the truce wouldn¡¯t be a sham of some kind, though he guessed it wasn¡¯t usually the way things were done. Perhaps the recent victories had made the Great Council doubt the sincerity of the surrendering enemies. He couldn¡¯t blame them, honestly; he was running short on trust for them himself.

    His distrust deepened slightly as he read over the document one more time. The Noble Races had all agreed to pay a share of the reparation tribute, but they had broken it up in rather odd ways. The three Elf clans, the Wizard circles, and the Knights of Griffon had all agreed to installments broken up over the course of the next three years. A reasonable adjustment, considering the amount they were being asked to pay; as bad as his own budget was, Matt was fairly certain that the rulers of those nations were going to have a far worse time soon, especially if they tried to rebuild their shattered militaries at the same time. Paying the ransoms wasn¡¯t going to help with that, either.

    Of course, Matt didn¡¯t mind that they would be a little hard up for cash. After all, what they paid was going to restore some of his own treasury; he¡¯d be able to build a lot of sewer systems and more at this rate, and he¡¯d have to worry that much less about them gathering troops to be ready to fight soon, at least not until long after the three-year limit.

    The final three members of the Noble Races had chosen a different system, however. The Sunken Clans of the Dwarves, the Knights of the Towers, and the Knights of the Anchor had all suffered far fewer losses than the others. In fact, the Knights of the Anchor hadn¡¯t needed to ransom any of their prisoners back from the war, and the number captured from the other two were small by comparison to the rest.

    All three of those members of the Noble Races had asked to make their tribute payments in full, right away. Matt would be grateful to see that much more money all at once. It would even go a long way to delaying any actions on those three nations¡¯ parts, at least in the short term. They¡¯d be too busy scrambling to make the payment to even think about troubling his borders, especially given that they were the three members of the alliance that were the furthest away from the Kingdom.

    At the same time, the immediate payment would mean they were going to be ready for a fight again much, much sooner than the rest of their friends. Their armies would be mostly intact compared to the rest, and their immediate neighbors would be incredibly weak, both from the war and their own continuing tributes. The truce guaranteed a state of peace between the Kingdom and the Noble Races, but it said nothing about war between the Noble Races themselves¡­

    If he had to guess, there would still be war to the east soon. Not involving his people, but it might not have to include his people to send refugees fleeing across the mountains. He hoped he was wrong, but given the way the Knight of Anchors had been acting¡­ it did not say good things about the lessons they had learned from Folly¡¯s End.

    He shook his head and signed, feeling the magic take hold of him. It was an unsettling thing, like a noose had been tightened firmly around his very soul. Matt shivered as the magic fell into place, and then sat back from the document with a sigh. ¡°So it is done. Do we send a copy to the rulers involved?¡±

    Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

    Melren shook his head. ¡°No, sire. The document is capable of taking care of the problem itself.¡± The Imp gestured to the desk, and Matt looked down in time to see the document grow a little¡­fuzzy for a moment, as if it had grown less real for an instant. When it grew solid again, it seemed somehow less substantial.

    ¡°What was that?¡±

    ¡°The spell on the document automatically dispatches copies to anyone whose soul is bound to it. Each of the rulers involved now has an exact copy of it in their possession.¡±

    Matt looked down at it in surprise. Instant teleportation was a useful tool, even if it was only being used to transfer information. ¡°Does that spell only work for contracts or treaties? Or can we use it for simple messages?¡±

    Melren blinked. ¡°The document copy spell? It can be used for more, but it is rather expensive. It also requires some of the person¡¯s essence to use, so it would be easy to sabotage anyone who trusted you to communicate with them that way.¡±

    ¡°I see.¡± There was always something. ¡°Well, at least that is done. Good riddance to bad business.¡±

    The Imp nodded. ¡°I agree, sire. For a moment, I was worried about your hesitation to sign it. I thought maybe the Counselor had advised you against it.¡±

    ¡°The Counselor?¡± Matt frowned. ¡°Who is that?¡±

    ¡°Nothing, sire.¡± Gorfeld spoke up from where he¡¯d been sitting in the corner. The steward had remained silent during almost the entire magic lesson, simply scratching away with a pen at a pile of parchment. When Matt looked at him, the Imp shrugged. ¡°Apparently there are rumors about a mysterious advisor who provides you with mystic guidance.¡±

    ¡°Really? About what?¡± Matt wouldn¡¯t have said no to a little mystic guidance, but it seemed like a strange thing for his people to fixate on. Was it wrong to feel a little insulted that they didn¡¯t believe he was smart enough to figure things out on his own?

    ¡°Well, for one, there was that prediction about refraining from taking a Consort to guarantee the safety of the Kingdom. You remember?¡± Gorfeld gave him a crooked grin. There hadn¡¯t been any such prophecy, just an excuse meant to keep Matt clear of needing to make a choice he really didn¡¯t want to make. ¡°There are those who claim that prediction was only the first given to you by this Counselor, and that other such forecasts have aided you in defending our Kingdom since.¡±

    Matt stared at him, at least until Melren cleared his throat. ¡°Ah, yes. That is one of the predictions I had heard being associated with them.¡± The former nobleman shrugged when Matt switched his attention to him. ¡°The people don¡¯t actually care if you are relying on a soothsayer, sire. Some might see it as a mark of wisdom and good fortune, actually. To secure the services of such a seer is not easy.¡±

    The careful respect in Melren¡¯s voice was a bit grating. He looked back at Gorfeld. ¡°Do any of the rumors have any suggestions about who my mysterious advisor might be?¡±

    Gorfeld smiled and shook his head. ¡°No, though there are many that are attempting to find them. Ambassador Paralus has been quite diligent about looking, actually. He spends quite a bit of coin on the effort every week.¡±

    ¡°Oh really?¡± Despite himself, Matt laughed. Espionage was a long-expected activity for most diplomatic staff, but Matt was somewhat surprised that Paralus was already starting to learn the ropes there. Did he really expect to find that many spies and traitors in Redspire that were willing to work with him?

    ¡°Yes, sire, though he is not alone. Several members of the Grand Council are also quietly searching for your mysterious Counselor as well.¡± Gorfeld grinned widely. ¡°Doubtless, they only wish to profit from the visions of your advisor as well. For the good of the Kingdom, of course.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m sure.¡± Matt shook his head slowly. Then he looked back at Melren, who was watching the exchange with undisguised curiosity. ¡°Has anybody asked you about it? You are teaching me magic, after all.¡±

    Melren, to his credit, looked a little abashed. ¡°Ah, there have been a few people who¡¯ve asked. Just out of curiosity, sire, nothing more than that.¡± He shook his head, clearly a bit anxious. ¡°I¡¯ve told them nothing, however. About anything we¡¯ve spoken of¡ªyou have my loyalty, sire, and none other.¡±

    Then his advisor¡ªhis actual magic advisor¡ªpaused. ¡°Of course, if there might be a Counselor, you¡¯d let me know, wouldn¡¯t you? If he mentioned me?¡±

    Matt pinched the bridge of his nose for a moment and sighed slowly. Clearly, Melren believed in the Counselor just as deeply as any freeholder in the street. ¡°Of course, Melren.¡±

    Gorfeld coughed into his hand for a moment, hiding a laugh, and Melren smiled in relief. A part of the deception bothered Matt, but in truth, it would probably do some good to have his opposition searching for some weakness that didn¡¯t actually exist.

    Unless they happened to ¡®find¡¯ the Counselor, of course. He grimaced to himself at the thought. If his enemies created their own false Counselor, it would give them a sudden amount of influence within the Kingdom, whether or not Matt acknowledged their deception as the truth. He wondered if the same idea would occur to his enemies any time soon. As if he didn¡¯t have enough to deal with already.

    Trying to force his mind back to attention, Matt focused back on the mantras again. If magic was going to give him trouble, at the very least, it could be ¡®real¡¯ magic. He was still shaking his head over that contradiction an hour later, when he dismissed his advisors and prepared to fall into his bed in near exhaustion.

    Two days after the truce was signed, Matt found himself at the head of yet another army.

    There were some differences in this one, however. First, instead of an enormous column of professional soldiers, these were a mass of undisciplined recruits, just this side of a mob with polearms. Some of them seemed to be serious about everything, perhaps due to how few of the last group of Irregulars had come back from Folly¡¯s End, but most of them were treating their journey as some kind of festival invitation.

    Of course, the direction of their march might have had something to do with the situation. For the first time since his reign had begun, Matt was going to be marching north and west. The peace treaty had finally made the armies to the east mostly unnecessary, and he no longer had to wait for an attack from that direction. If only he could be so sanguine about his northern and southern borders.

    ¡°I still think you should take more soldiers with you, sire. Just in case things go poorly.¡±

    Morteth¡¯s words were respectful, but they carried the weight of experience. The former commander of Greymouth was one of the few generals in the Kingdom to earn the title of Defender of the Realm and was so far the only one who had been granted the title of Margrave and the rank of Marshall. He¡¯d earned every reward, given how hard he¡¯d fought against the Noble Races, but he still seemed ill at ease over his new position.

    Of course, he wasn¡¯t the only one that had been uncomfortable. The Great Council had been nearly in an uproar over the elevation of one of their peers. After all, any power not in their hands was a dangerous threat to the stability of the realm. Lord Torth had almost immediately resolved things with characteristic¡ªand frustrating¡ªskill, by appointing Matt as the Lord of Margraves and Chief Marshall, and by excluding all current Margraves from the membership of the Great Council.

    The other nobles had settled down after that, and Matt had just needed to accept the weight of his brand-new titles as the price of change. He¡¯d even leaned into it a little, establishing a semi-official Table of Margraves. True, it was mostly useless at the moment, seeing as only he and Morteth were members, but eventually, it might be just what the Kingdom required.

    ¡°Screw taking more soldiers. Just grab the Royal First and Iron Eighth, my liege. We¡¯re ready to go with you as soon as you need.¡± Captain Snolt¡¯s confidence was unchanged by the bandages still wrapped around his arm. He was still mounted on his Warg, watching the Irregulars parade with ill-concealed dissatisfaction. Whether he disapproved of their lack of order, or was simply jealous of their opportunity to march out, was hard to say.

    ¡°I appreciate your concerns, Captain, Margrave.¡± Both officers nodded to him, and Matt continued in an even voice. ¡°I¡¯ll admit that I will miss having your soldiers along with me for this, but you need time. Many of our best warriors were either wounded or worn down by the last campaign. If I am going to have you for the coming battles against Teblas and the Alliance of Light, you will need time to rest and recover. Stay here, get the men healed and trained. These militia will buy you time for the next campaign.¡±

    Snolt grunted sourly at the orders and started muttering something that sounded incredibly disrespectful under his breath. Matt had fought too often by the man¡¯s side to care, though, so he simply ignored it to focus on Morteth.

    For his part, the Kingdom¡¯s only real Margrave was staring at the Irregulars with a faint grimace. ¡°I see the need, sire, but if the troops cannot be spared, can you?¡± The Imp glanced at him, his expression professionally blank. ¡°Why not send me to the Small Heights, or one of the other Captains? Do you really need to risk yourself?¡±

    It was a fair question, and one that Matt had already asked himself a few times. ¡°Most times, you would be right, Margrave. It would be reckless of me to march out when there could be so many problems to address. Too much risk of assassination or other trouble on the road.¡±

    Then he smiled. ¡°This time, however, it is different. I¡¯ll be marching out to confront a rebel, and I¡¯ll need to be able to overrule the leaders of two separate High Clans if needed to bring things to a close. Your rank gives you that authority, but¡­¡±

    ¡°My title is new, and they might require¡­ convincing to respect it.¡± Morteth grimaced. ¡°You intend to break the rebellion yourself, then?¡±

    ¡°As soon as possible. I may not stay to see it all finished, though. Once I¡¯m sure Grufen has things in hand, I¡¯ll come back and leave the hard work to him.¡± Matt grinned as Morteth chuckled at the half-joke. ¡°I¡¯ll have my lifeguard to protect me, and almost as many troops with me as Itrelia might have left in her whole army. The journey will be safe and beneficial to the Kingdom.¡±

    A subtle change came through Morteth¡¯s expression. ¡°I¡­ see, sire.¡±

    If Matt hadn¡¯t already caught it, he would have realized it a moment later when Snolt quietly started cursing the ¡®damned Counselor¡¯ under his breath. He almost sighed. They thought this was another prophecy that he was following north. That¡­could definitely be a problem, eventually. The last thing he needed was for his advisors to stop telling him things because they thought his ideas were coming from some all-knowing prophet. Bad enough he was King here; did he have to start seeing the future too?

    Instead of trying to argue about it, though, Matt simply accepted their begrudging agreement and looked over to where his warbuck, Nelson, was waiting for him. ¡°Take care of the city while I¡¯m gone and be ready when I return. There¡¯s going to be plenty of work to do when I come back.¡±

    The two warriors nodded, their expressions serious. He shook hands with both and then swung himself up into Nelson¡¯s saddle. He started the animal on a trot, heading for the front of the column. His lifeguards followed suit, also mounted on Wargs or warbucks of their own. The Orcs among them looked ill at ease on the animals, but since Folly¡¯s End, they seemed to be convinced that unless they were mounted, he¡¯d leave them behind. Matt had no idea why they believed that nonsense; he¡¯d spent the entirety of the last battle behind his soldiers¡¯ lines. He wasn¡¯t that reckless.

    The road to the Small Heights was choked with snow. Carts and other travelers had been moving along the route for the past few weeks, but they hadn¡¯t taken the time to clear it enough for an entire column to march through. As a result, what should have been a quick three-day march to the capital of the Small Heights was likely to be drawn out for an additional two days. It was only made worse by the fact that unlike the rest of the armies he¡¯d ridden with so far, he didn¡¯t have any mounted scouts to tell him what the surrounding countryside looked like. In short, his army was a blind, wallowing herd of pigs that were trudging their way north for the slaughter.

    His situation only grew worse when he considered the terrain. They were north of the River Crimson, now, and there were no other real solid boundaries between his route and the area controlled by the rebels under Lady Itrelia. There were large sweeps of snow-strewn plains and forests between the road and Winterfast, the home of the Frost Elves. Unfortunately, Matt sorely doubted that the cold and snow would prove much of a barrier to a group of people known as the Frost Elves.

    All in all, it set the stage for an ambush. Inexperienced troops against battle-hardened Elves, in terrain that spoke to their element, and a hated leader that would be briefly vulnerable. Lady Itrelia had to be searching for an opportunity, an opening to turn the tide of her faltering rebellion. He hadn¡¯t bothered to disguise his route to the north. In fact, he¡¯d been advertising the journey to practically the entire city. Whatever agents that Itrelia had maintained in Redspire would have been sending a steady stream of updates, making sure that she would be ready to strike. If she wasn¡¯t somewhere along the road, then Matt would have been shocked.

    At the same time, Itrelia couldn¡¯t pull troops from the air. She¡¯d have to rely on her most trusted soldiers, the ones that she had kept back from the fighting so far. The ones that made up her strategic reserve. It would be dangerous, a risky move that would leave her vulnerable, but if she killed Matt, it would be more than worth it.

    As long as her picture of the situation was accurate, of course.

    Matt looked over the disorganized column striding along the road, with little to no semblance of training. He heaved a quiet sigh and then turned to the Captain stepping along just outside the ring of lifeguards around Nelson. ¡°Captain Rugord, I think we¡¯re far enough from the city. Let¡¯s get these soldiers back into order.¡±

    The Greenriver Orc looked back at him. He nodded, and then shouted above the noise of the marching men. ¡°All right, you mob! Form ranks! All banners, form ranks!¡±

    Ahead of him, Matt could see some of the soldiers glancing back at him and the Captain. They shifted their positions, reorganizing themselves into something that did not resemble a herd of human cattle. Within a startlingly short amount of time, they went from a mob to a military formation, and Matt let himself grin.

    The six banners of Irregulars he had chosen to accompany him had spent the longest amount of time training in Redspire. They were also the six best banners; compared to the four that had come with him to the battle at Folly¡¯s End, they were far closer to an actual group of banners of the Crown Guard. He attributed most of that to their captains, each of whom was not just a popular man, but an experienced veteran of previous wars.

    They also had the benefit of better weapons. Matt had made their armament a priority as soon as he¡¯d returned to Redspire. The memory of the Irregulars at Folly¡¯s End facing down a cavalry charge with pitchforks and farming implements had stuck in his memory, and not in a good way. He¡¯d made sure that the Irregulars that were still intact could all be armed with something approaching real equipment, and the difference showed as the banners sorted themselves into their formations.

    The first banner in the column was made up of Goblins from the Grimfen Low Folk, armed with a shield, short sword, and a handful of javelins. They called themselves the Grimfen Scouts, though they seemed ready to act more like skirmishers or even frontline combat troops. Behind them came the Coldhearth Orcs, who carried voulges, a kind of polearm with a pointed blade at the end. Captain Vorch¡¯s troops were technically voulgiers, but they¡¯d shortened it to the Coldhearth Vulgars instead, with all the accompanying coarse humor.

    Behind them came Captain Rugord¡¯s Greenriver Orcs, all armed with wagoner¡¯s axes. The Greenriver Wagoneers seemed like dependable troops, as did the Copperflame Goblins that followed them. Called the Copperflame Axes, each Goblin carried a pair of axes, and seemed more than ready to use them. The Ashrock Imp banner, self-named the Slingers, followed behind them, with slings and bags heavy with slingstones. Then came the Goldplain Defenders, the final banner of Imps that carried hammers and shields, intending to act as a kind of rearguard.

    Now that they had all lined up in proper formation, the Irregulars looked far more like a real army. Perhaps the additional training and better weapons would offset their still-obvious lack of experience, but there would only be one way to find that out. Maybe it wouldn¡¯t even be needed, but Matt didn¡¯t know if he was going to be that lucky.

    They finished their first day¡¯s march without trouble, something that Matt had expected. An attack while they were still too close to Redspire would have been incredibly difficult for the enemy to pull off. Despite his thoughts, he made sure that there were plenty of sentries organized around the camp; the last thing he wanted was for Itrelia to pull some kind of San Jacinto style ambush just because his Irregulars had gotten sloppy at night.

    The second day of marching passed without trouble, either. So far, the weather had been cooperating; it was partially cloudy and cold, but there was no snow making things even worse for his struggling soldiers. The Coldhearth Orcs seemed the least troubled by the chill, and he heard them occasionally trading insults and laughter with the other banners as they walked.

    For a second night, they camped by the side of the road, and once again, the troops kept a diligent watch. Matt spent a little bit of time with his mantras, once again trying to build that same foundation. He struggled with it for an hour or two, and then gave up and went to bed. The third day was going to be the riskiest; his troops were going to be the furthest from both Redspire and the troops under Grufen. If Itrelia meant to spring her ambush, she¡¯d be waiting for them the next day.

 B2Ch3: Small Conflicts

    The Scouts found the Elves early the next day.

    His enemies had settled in on either side of the road, waiting to ambush his column as they marched through. Their camouflage had apparently been excellent, but a few of them had slipped up, and the Goblins had picked them out among the snow-covered trees.

    Rather than obliging them by continuing along the road, Matt had ordered his troops to swerve off of the beaten path and into the area to the right of the road. There was a hill there, south of a wide, treeless clearing. It would give his forces a place to stand and deny the Elves the chance to hide in the trees. Until he knew more about what he was up against, it would be his best option.

    Of course, the Elves had seen him coming. By the time his Irregulars had formed up on the crest of the hill, they had already abandoned their ambush and taken up positions at the edge of the trees, just north of the clearing. He could see them clearly. There were at least three banners of Elven skirmishers, their bows ready, and their shields and spears stuck in the snow beside them for when things reached melee range. They would be bad enough, but he also saw most of a banner of Winterknights among the rest, their icestags stepping delicately in the snow while their heavily armored riders glared up at the hill. Those were Itrelia¡¯s most elite troops, and they could tear through an unprepared opponent with magic and their glittering, brutal swords. If they caught his troops at the wrong time¡­

    Matt shook aside his concerns and focused back on his own troops. He¡¯d ordered the Defenders out in front of the center, with their shields and hammers ready to clash. Behind them were the Vulgars and Wagoneers, ready to wade in with their polearms when things got ugly. On his right flank, he¡¯d put the Scouts and the Slingers, hoping that they could close the distance enough to keep the skirmishers there at bay.

    The Axes were set up on the left flank. His own lifeguard and their mounts held that side of the field as well, as close to the road as he could get. It felt a little weird to be all the way out on the edge of the battle, but his lifeguard was the only one with mounts. He couldn¡¯t ignore the options that mobility would provide; only his lifeguard would be fast enough to hook around the enemy lines and flank them, turning the battle in his favor. At the very least, the threat of those mounted troops would distract the Elves, though he felt odd about using himself as bait.

    At least no snow was falling. Small favors.

    The Elves on the other side of the field moved forward, their horns blowing in a clear signal that their attack had begun. He saw the Winterknights trot out ahead of the rest of their forces, followed by the skirmishers on foot. They moved easily across the snow, almost seeming to skip along the field without breaking through the crust.

    Matt looked to his lifeguard, and motioned for them to start forward. They hesitated, obviously unhappy to be charging into combat, but their other option was to leave him to try it alone. In the end, they started across the field to the road, where the hooves and paws of their mounts wouldn¡¯t get mired in the snow. Behind him, the Axes moved forward as well, though they stuck to the field. On the right flank, he could see the Slingers and Scouts moving forward as well. The center held position, bracing themselves for contact with the incoming cavalry.

    He felt reassured at how steady the Irregulars looked as they advanced or held fast. Hopefully, that would continue once the Elves hit them. It would send the wrong kind of signal if this march ended with the Elves chasing his army from the field.

    Matt turned his attention back to the Elves ahead of them. There were nearly a hundred of them, all eagerly racing out to fill him and his bodyguards full of arrows. With three archers for every one of his lifeguard, there wasn¡¯t a whole lot of hope that they would all miss. Not without some help.

    So Matt waited until the Elves had loosed their first volley. He saw the shafts rise high into the air, curving over to become a rain of death. A second volley was already starting to rise after the first.

    Then he shouted to his lifeguard. ¡°Left turn! Into the forest!¡±

    His lifeguard responded instantly, diving from the clear road to the trees on the left side. Their mounts wove through the underbrush, slowing to avoid hitting the trees. Matt grinned as he pushed Nelson to keep up with the lighter mounts around him; the warbuck tossed his head a little, as if trying to shake off his rider¡¯s pestering.

    The arrows that should have fallen among his lifeguard spattered into the mud and snow on the road. Others fell among the rest of his troops; the Defenders and Scouts both ducked behind their broad shields, catching the incoming projectiles and turning them aside. He didn¡¯t think he saw any of his forces fall, but it was hard to see them between the trees that were flashing past.

    His heart beating hard in his chest, he turned back to look at the skirmishers that were already drawing back the next volley of arrows. He watched them nock, watched them draw, knowing it would be time to dodge again soon. When they fired, he snapped out his next set of orders immediately. ¡°Veer right! Back on the road!¡±

    The lifeguard responded immediately. They left the snow and trees of the forest to stagger back onto the road. Their pace went from wallowing through snowdrifts to sprinting along the road again. The second volley of arrows had already pattered down well ahead of them in the road, where they might have been if they had continued at a steady pace along the path.

    Matt settled into the saddle again, shouting hard. ¡°Double pace! Get moving!¡±

    Arrows snapped beneath hooves and paws as he charged along the road with his lifeguard rushing along behind him. More arrows thudded into trees and hissed through the brush back in the woods. He could see the archers trying to adjust their shots; some of them were having to scramble through the snow to form new ranks. Their next volley was delayed by more than a few heartbeats; he could almost hear the Elves trying to guess where his lifeguard would dodge next.

    As another volley plunged into the road behind him, Matt abruptly raised his fist. ¡°Slow to a trot!¡±

    The lifeguard skidded to a near halt as the next set of arrows went skyward. Matt heard the Wargs and warbucks huffing and blowing around and behind him; the uneasy grumbles of his lifeguard were just as audible as volley after volley rose above their heads, ready to plunge down on them.

    He gave the enemy the chance to fire one more wave, and then he snapped out his next set of orders. ¡°Double pace! One more run!¡±

    The lifeguard accelerated along with him; the road blurred past. He saw the archers shift again, surprised by the sudden burst of speed from their targets. Some of their arrows had struck down at his little group; he heard one of the lifeguard bite off an oath as an arrow struck him in his arm. Matt took half a second to look back at the lifeguard, and then back at the battlefield beyond them.

    He saw a vision of chaos. The Winterknights had charged the center of his line. They¡¯d obviously been expecting to smash their way through a line of peasants ill-prepared for combat. Lowborn conscripts who were too disorganized and frightened to stand their ground. Instead, the Defenders had locked their shields together and braced themselves; the Vulgars behind them had extended their voulges, presenting the enemy with a wall of shields and blades.

    The Winterknights had run their icestags straight into that wall. Magic had lashed out, arrows had whickered in from above, but the Defenders had held. Only the direct impact of the icestags and their riders had crushed through that barrier, and even then, the force of the charge had been stolen by the incline of the hill and the danger of the blades leveled at them. Elves and mounts fell alongside Orcs and Imps, and as the charge slowed, the Wagoneers waded in to pull riders from saddles and hack mounts to pieces. Despite the casualties from the impact, the center of the line held. Moments later, the center had turned into a brutal, whirling melee.

    On the far side, he saw a shower of javelins and slingstones rain down in answer for the arrows the skirmishers had loosed. Elves fell back in surprise at the casualties, and they fell back further as the Imps and Goblins on the right pushed in at them. His heart leaped as he saw the skirmishers start to break. With that flank turned, the victory was halfway won.

    Then he saw the Elves nearest to him drawing back for another volley. This time, they were close enough to fire directly; there would be no calm arc to give him time to dodge. He could almost see the arrows zipping along over the snow, smacking against armor and flesh. For a moment, he pictured the lifeguard dying on the road, littered with the arrows he¡¯d led them into.

    There was a roar from behind the archers. Matt saw them flinch, turning to look behind themselves. He saw shock in their posture, the stunned realization of the fact that they¡¯d forgotten something very, very important.

    The Axes, ignored by the archers in favor of the more valuable lifeguard and monarch, charged directly into melee with the skirmishers. Their charge took the Elves from behind and to one side, catching them as they were dropping their longbows and scrambling to pick up their spears and shields. Goblins charged into their midst, hacking and slashing with their weapons. Elves fell like grain being scythed for the harvest.

    They lasted only heartbeats before panic took them, and the entire left-hand flank of the Elven army collapsed.

    That panic spread like wildfire through the rest of the Elves. The right flank had already been pulling back; a moment later they were running, as were the remaining skirmishers in the center, who hadn¡¯t even been engaged yet. He saw the Winterknights still fighting in the center, now struggling to pull back out of the melee. The Orcs and Imps did not give them the chance, knocking them down as they tried to flee. Only a handful of the heavily armored warriors managed to reach the edge of the mob, and they ran without looking backwards.

    Matt saw the battle turn, and let out a breath he hadn¡¯t realized he¡¯d been holding. As the Elves who couldn¡¯t run fast enough began to hold up their weapons in surrender, he led his lifeguard in a more leisurely trot back towards the rest of the battle. After playing the bait for the entire fight, he owed them a nice, relaxing day.

    The city of Summerhall was not anything that Matt would have recognized as a city back on Earth. Of course, even Redspire was miniscule by Earth standards¡ªat last count the population there were only around thirty-five thousand people¡ªbut Summerhall was even smaller than that. If Matt had to guess, the whole town held barely ten thousand people in it, all piled on top of each other inside a valley that was ringed by tall hills. It made for a cramped, overbuilt city full of tight spaces and maze-like streets, with the Gnomes choosing to either dig lower or build higher rather than trying to expand out past the valley.

    A high wall surrounded those same hills, with no gates or breaks in the stone. On top of each hill was a thick, fortified tower, one that could easily sweep the wall clean of invaders. The Gnomes had relied on that wall to protect them for generations; it had taken hundreds of warriors an entire year to break through and subjugate them. In the time since, the Gnomes had been careful to restore those defenses, possibly in the hope it could once again free them from oppression.

    At the moment, the fortifications had been serving a slightly different purpose. The signs of recent siege were obvious despite the recent snows. Ruined siege engines, broken ladders, and old, half-buried bloodstains were scattered around the walls and towers. In fact, a large number of them were clustered around one side of the city in particular, where the eastern entrance to Summerhall was located.

    As Matt drew close to the entrance, he mentally congratulated the builders of the Gnomish capitol for their ingenuity. Rather than weakening the walls by placing some kind of gate in the wall, the builders of Summerhall had burrowed a tunnel under the walls, leaving the defenders with the opportunity to guard a doorway that was easily secured. Murder holes and secondary portcullises were positioned every so often along the tunnel, ready to cut off groups of attackers and rain death on them while they were trapped. The defenses had been put to good use recently, given by the amount of wreckage dumped on either side of the tunnel exit. Most of the bloodstains and broken equipment were gathered around the spot as well.

    A messenger met his forces as they drew close to the tunnel. The Gnome wore an official-looking robe, and she was smiling in gratitude as she rode a dogelk out of the city. It was a miniature version of the greatelks and warbucks that larger people used, but it fit the Gnome¡¯s stature just fine. ¡°Lord Nuramesh welcomes you to Summerhall, King Matthew.¡± Her eyes took in the casualties among the Irregulars and the prisoners in chains beside them. ¡°It appears you have also had a successful battle recently.¡±

    Matt offered her a calm grin. ¡°Indeed, we did. Was there a battle here as well?¡±

    ¡°There have been many, sire, but the most recent one appears to have finally driven the rebels from our walls. Lord Grufen took advantage of a moment of weakness in their lines and drove them as far east as he could.¡± She paused. ¡°He regrets that he was not able to be here to welcome you personally, but his troops are still some ways to the east. He should return by early tomorrow morning.¡±

    Matt blinked, and then nodded. Apparently, Grufen had noticed when Itrelia had pulled most of her reserve back to strike at Matt¡¯s column and had launched a counterattack. It was a good move, one that combined with the failure of the ambush to likely deliver a brutal blow to the morale of the Frost Elves. If the news arrived at the right time¡­

    He shook the thoughts aside and then smiled. ¡°I am glad to hear that Grufen has enjoyed such success. At the same time, would you be able to grant me and my troops a place to eat and sleep? A place to keep our prisoners would be helpful as well.¡±

    The messenger nodded. ¡°Of course, sire. Lord Nuramesh has already secured sufficient lodging for all of you. Come, this way.¡±

    She turned her dogelk back and led the way back through the city. The weary Irregulars followed, cheered by the prospect of warm food and safe quarters. Their prisoners were somewhat more glum, but they seemed to already accept their fate.

    ¡°King Matthew. I welcome you to our humble city.¡± Nuramesh bowed low, his expression serious. ¡°I am honored that you chose to respect our request for assistance. The presence of both you and your troops will be a welcome reprieve for our defenders here.¡±

    ¡°I am just glad to find your people in such good circumstances, Lord Nuramesh.¡± Matt looked around the small manor that the Lord of the Summer Hill Gnomes inhabited. It was a small structure compared to the castle of Redspire, but still one that had its own kind of grandeur. The welcoming hall was broad and held up by ornately carved columns, all leading to a table where the elders of the clan would meet to decide the future of Summerhall.

    All of those elders were currently standing around that table, and each of them bowed as he looked in their direction. He recognized at least one of them from the Great Council, though the woman seemed to be just as solemn and intimidated as the others. Matt reminded himself that the people of this place hadn¡¯t had nearly as much of an opportunity to know him as the people of Redspire. When they saw his arrival, they likely didn¡¯t see an arriving liberator; they saw their current bloody-handed tyrant. Of course, they weren¡¯t exactly rolling out the welcome mat.

    If you come across this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.

    Nuramesh straightened up and smiled. ¡°It is thanks to your wisdom, sire, and the help of Lord Grufen. Without your decision to send his troops to aid us, I believe our defenses would not have held out this long. His stalwart refusal to give up the city has kept us out of the hands of Lady Itrelia for all this time.¡±

    Matt kept his eyes from narrowing with an effort. ¡°You sound¡­ rather grateful for his help.¡±

    ¡°I am, sire. We all are.¡± The Gnomish lord gestured at the gathered nobility. ¡°Whatever promises Itrelia might have made to us, she clearly meant for my people to suffer the burden of her rebellion. If we had fallen under her control¡­¡±

    He stepped forward and laid a hand on Nuramesh¡¯s shoulder. ¡°Then I am glad you decided to stay with the Kingdom, for your people¡¯s sake.¡± Then he pulled back, still smiling. ¡°Though it has been a benefit to the rest of the Kingdom as well. Parufeth and his workers have been an incredible boon to our work in the capital.¡±

    Nuramesh¡¯s expression flickered between satisfied and befuddled. He nodded carefully. ¡°I am¡­gratified that he has been of assistance to you, sire. The information about what he has been building has been¡­interesting, to say the least.¡±

    One of the other nobles spoke up from around the table. ¡°He said that the things he was building would make Redspire one of the largest cities in the world. Is he correct?¡±

    Matt thought over the claim for a moment. ¡°I know his projects will certainly contribute to the growth of Redspire, but the size of a city depends on many factors. It¡¯s hard to predict the future.¡± He tried not to notice the sudden, wry chuckles and mutters among his vassals. Apparently rumors about the Counselor had reached this place as well. ¡°I do know that I intend to make sure that the city will be able to provide clean water to three times more people than currently live there. I also intend to have him build a system to carry away the waste of the city without any scents or diseases. Those two things should make Redspire the healthiest place to live in our Kingdom.¡±

    A sudden silence fell. Some of the nobles exchanged looks. One of them, a woman who seemed a little rougher than the others, spoke up. ¡°Are these projects a secret, my liege?¡±

    There was something in her voice that made Matt smile. A hint of ambition and envy. Perhaps a spirit of competition? ¡°No, Lady¡­¡±

    ¡°Sarunoth, my liege. Lady Sarunoth.¡± She folded her arms and glanced around the table again. ¡°Our fair city has always prided itself on its arrangements, King Matthew. I hope you would not¡­take offense if we were to offer this Parufeth the opportunity to share what he has learned with us.¡±

    Matt paused. Parufeth was the foreman for the construction projects in Redspire. He had already set them a terribly demanding schedule, one that would push the current work crews to their limits. If he allowed the nobles of Summerhall¡ªand probably the other corners of the Kingdom, once they realized what Matt had done in Redspire¡ªto poach his trained labor for their own projects, then his efforts were going to stall and stagnate.

    At the same time, he had declared Parufeth a freeholder. The man could seek employment wherever he wished, so long as he completed his contracts. His workers were all just as free to move around to wherever he wanted. Keeping their loyalty might cost a bit more if he had to fight competing offers, but unless he wanted to imply that he owned those men and women, he would have to accept that they might decide to work on their home instead of his capital.

    Trying not to sound like he was grinding his teeth, Matt answered carefully. ¡°I am sure that he would be happy to share my plans with you, Lady Sarunoth. He does have a contract to complete a year¡¯s service with me, but if all you wish from him are the plans that I am having him build, then I see no reason not to give you the information. Any improvements here will be to the benefit of our people, after all.¡±

    Sarunoth gave him a brief bow. ¡°I would appreciate the chance to see them, sire. Perhaps I could also send a few workers under contract to observe and adapt them to our needs? I think my fellow nobles would not want our home to fall behind in such things. Especially not with Gnomish hands crafting such wonders in other lands.¡±

    ¡°Their presence would likely be appreciated, Lady Sarunoth.¡± Matt gave her a subtle incline of the head. She must have caught on to his reluctance; he appreciated the fact that she didn¡¯t seem to want to compete with his plans, really. It was more likely that she just didn¡¯t want one of the other High Clans to seize the advantage before the Gnomes could benefit. He imagined that watching the Orcs that had conquered them benefit from Gnomish work might sting just a little too much for these people.

    Nuramesh spoke up again, as if trying to regain control of the conversation. ¡°In any case, sire, if you are hungry, we have prepared a feast to celebrate your arrival. If that would be acceptable to you¡­?¡±

    He gave the nobleman a quick nod, something which seemed to reassure the Gnome. Nuramesh still appeared to have trouble seeing him as anything but a ruler to be appeased rather than an ally to embrace, but perhaps that was just because of his position as one of the High Clan leaders. Admittedly, he and Grufen were the only two remaining leaders that were both alive and still in control of their Clans. Perhaps he thought that flattery and bribes were the key to avoiding the fates of Tek and Braden.

    Matt sighed as the Gnomes filed into the next room, leading the way for him and his lifeguard. The last thing he was looking forward to was a state dinner of some kind, but at least nobody was trying to kill him here.

    Hopefully.

    ¡°Lord Grufen has arrived, sire.¡±

    Matt looked up from the desk of his temporary office. Nuramesh had been more than accommodating for him. The Gnome would have given him his own personal office if Matt had not refused to take it. Instead, Matt had selected a side office, one that his lifeguard had recommended in terms of defensibility. Then he had promptly tried to fend off the continued visits of the Gnomish nobility, all of whom seemed to want to speak with him about something or other.

    Luckily, most of the nobles appeared to be satisfied with a brief conversation, and the knowledge that the monarch of the realm was vaguely aware of their House¡¯s existence. Lady Suranoth had been one of the few exceptions, as she¡¯d tried to wheedle some of the details about the construction projects in Redspire out of him early. Matt would have been irritated over the interruption, but the noblewoman had seemed so sincerely interested in extending the development to her own home that he was oddly charmed by their shared passion for civil engineering. He¡¯d ended up providing her with some rough sketches of the slow filters, the cisterns, and the sewage plants. She¡¯d gone away happy and gloating over the parchment, like a dragon over a fresh horde of gold, with promises to send over books full of Gnomish Spell Chants to aid him in his personal magic progress.

    Fortunately, he¡¯d finally made a breakthrough in the meantime. Matt had finally added Autumn to the foundation for his magic and had started in on the mantras for the Mind. The progress was gratifyingly fast, compared to the rest of what he had done before. He was tempted to wonder if there was something about studying in a place of Earth like Summerhall that was speeding his ability to learn, but he didn¡¯t have Melren here with him to confirm or deny it.

    For now, however, he set aside both the reports on the city of Summerhall and the mantras of the Mind. Lord Grufen, the third official Defender of the Realm, had finally returned from the field.

    Matt hadn¡¯t seen the man, or even talked to him outside of the occasional letter or report, since he had sent him north from Redspire. Less than twelve weeks ago, the Hard Scythe Orcs had been on the edge of rebellion, with Grufen ready to lead them. Now Matt was going to talk to him after the Orc had apparently single-handedly saved Summerhall, and the Small Heights as a whole, from Itrelia¡¯s grasping invasions. Would the nobleman make demands for his loyal service, or would he be just as easy to placate as Morteth had been?

    He folded his hands on the desk and waited for the Orc to arrive. It wasn¡¯t a long pause; Grufen arrived very nearly on the heels of the messenger, and Matt stood as the nobleman entered.

    Grufen had struck him as a battle-hardened veteran. Where Lord Braden¡¯s armor had been well-crafted and relatively untested, Grufen¡¯s had been worn and well-used. He¡¯d been gruff and blunt; it hadn¡¯t been hard to believe that his rebellion had been based along practical lines, where he¡¯d simply seen too many abuses from the rulers of Redspire to continue to tolerate their rule.

    Now, as the Orc walked into the room, he came without his usual traditional dueling armor. He was wearing a simple military tunic instead, and he did not carry any weapons with him. Matt recognized the change in attitude that the different attire represented, and he smiled. ¡°I don¡¯t believe I remember that uniform, Lord Grufen.¡±

    The Orc smirked a little. ¡°You mentioned, the last time, that I didn¡¯t need to wearing dueling armor around you. Implied you preferred I didn¡¯t, actually.¡±

    ¡°So I did. Thank you for remembering.¡± Matt walked around the desk and reached out a hand. It was something of a second test. Grufen had hesitated to shake hands before; the tradition wasn¡¯t exactly normal in this place.

    Grufen didn¡¯t even blink at the gesture this time. He took Matt¡¯s hand, squeezed carefully, and then released it. ¡°Thank you for coming to help us, sire. I hoped that you would be able to help us end this conflict, and you have.¡± Then he grimaced. ¡°Though I hadn¡¯t expected the traitor to move so quickly. I apologize for allowing them to confront you on the road.¡±

    Matt raised an eyebrow. ¡°You didn¡¯t expect Itrelia to attack me?¡±

    ¡°No, I did. I just hadn¡¯t expected her to use her reserve.¡± Grufen shrugged. ¡°I thought she¡¯d pull the siege forces back from Summerhall to do it, which would have allowed me to give chase and help crush them between us.¡±

    ¡°Ah. I see.¡± Matt thought over the logic, examining it for falsehoods or traps. It was hard to see what advantage that Grufen would gain by admitting that he had used his monarch as bait, however, so he was inclined to believe the man. ¡°Well, at the very least, you took the opening we gave you.¡±

    ¡°I did.¡± Grufen met his gaze without flinching. ¡°We drove the siege forces back into Winterfast. I¡¯d say we destroyed about a quarter of them before they got away, and took a decent number of the rest prisoner. Between the casualties they took from us, and what they suffered facing you, they have to be hurting for warriors now.¡±

    ¡°You think so?¡±

    ¡°Yes. If Itrelia has more than four full banners left to her name, I¡¯ll eat my own scythe.¡± The Orc grinned. He stepped over to the chair in front of the desk and almost fell into it. Then he paused, looking back at Matt questioningly. ¡°Which gives a bit more importance to something else I brought back with the rest of my prisoners.¡±

    Matt smiled. He gestured for the Orc to sit and leaned back against the desk. ¡°Feel free to rest, Lord Grufen. You¡¯ve been busy here, and I¡¯ve had a little time to grow comfortable.¡±

    ¡°Thank you, sire.¡± Grufen half-collapsed into the chair. Then he leaned forward, resting his elbows on his thighs. ¡°One of the Frost Elf nobles sent a messenger to me, under cover of a surrendering skirmisher. They were a page I knew from my time in the capitol, back when the Obsidian King was running things. He¡¯s a genuine, honest soldier; I don¡¯t think he¡¯d be suited for deception.¡±

    A thrill of anticipation went through Matt as he thought over what the messenger might have brought. ¡°And?¡±

    Grufen grinned. ¡°He was sent from some of the Frost Elf Houses to ask what terms you would accept from them for surrender.¡±

    Matt tilted his head back and closed his eyes. He¡¯d hoped the last few disasters might have been enough to break the northern rebels, but to hear confirmation¡­ ¡°Itrelia gets tried for treason. Any who fought for her goes on a kind of probation, where they are on the front lines fighting for the Kingdom outside their territory. Any serfs in their territory immediately become freeholders, and the nobility surrender half their territory to allow the people to support themselves.¡±

    The Orc had nodded along for the first two provisions; the third brought him up short. ¡°Half their territory, sire? That seems¡­ harsh.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s better than what they could have expected from someone like the Red Sorceress, I¡¯m sure.¡± Matt shrugged. ¡°I can¡¯t trust them with control over the whole of their Clan anymore; the freeholders will keep them loyal, especially if they remember who freed them. Freeing them is useless without land to help them farm and live. They need enough to survive.¡±

    Then Matt paused, and he sighed. ¡°That, and to be honest, these people tried to kill me twice. I feel like they don¡¯t have much space to complain about losing a little property for it when I could execute the lot of them. Do you disagree?¡±

    Grufen remained silent for a few more moments. Then he grimaced. ¡°I suppose not, sire. You are right, it could be harsher¡ªand you did warn all of us that if we rebelled and lost, you would destroy us for it.¡± He looked up at Matt, his expression unreadable. ¡°Who will rule Winterfast? Will the Icehearts still be a High Clan?¡±

    Matt shrugged. ¡°I see little difference between High Clan and Low Folk these days, at least in Redspire. If there are enough nobles left among them to have Houses intact, then they will be invited to sit in the Great Council with their peers. If one of them gains enough influence to claim leadership of the Clan, then that is their business, so long as they don¡¯t obstruct the Voices of their freeholders, or plot against the rest of the Kingdom again.¡±

    He paused, looking closer at Grufen. ¡°Make sure to emphasize that last part. I might be harsh this time, but if I catch them at another rebellion¡­I have no problem making sure they are never in a position to do anything ever again. Understand?¡±

    Grufen smiled again, this time a little uneasily. ¡°Yes, sire. I will tell them.¡± He looked to the side. ¡°I hope that my work here has met your expectations.¡±

    Matt blinked. He unfolded his arms and studied the Orc a little more closely. ¡°Of course it has, Lord Grufen. I would not have given you a title if I had felt you failed. Without your work, we¡¯d likely have lost not only the Small Heights, but perhaps even the Spirelands. We definitely would not have been able to beat the Noble Races without you guarding our flank.¡±

    ¡°You honor me, sire.¡± Grufen¡¯s words were careful. ¡°Comparing my success to that of Margrave Morteth¡­humbles me.¡±

    The subtle hint of ambition set off warning bells in Matt¡¯s mind. He tilted his head and settled his hands on the desk behind him. Grufen might have been plain and gruff, but he was still the leader of a High Clan. He hadn¡¯t risen to that position under two different monarchs without some amount of drive to excel. Matt guessed he might justify that hunger with how it could protect his people, but it was still there¡ªand the possibility of the title of Margrave was the kind of tasty morsel that would have drawn his attention instantly.

    Matt spoke just as carefully as Grufen had, trying not to imply more than he wanted to. ¡°Margrave Morteth achieved quite a bit against our enemies. He proved himself both capable and loyal in the responsibilities he¡¯d been given.¡±

    Grufen tilted his head in response. A small smile touched his lips. ¡°I envy him the chance. I worry that my own accomplishments are tainted, both by the help I required from you, sire, and from the initial¡­skepticism I expressed about your reign.¡±

    ¡°Morteth required plenty of help from me as well, Lord Grufen. The support I gave him¡ªor you, for that matter¡ªdoes not diminish what he accomplished.¡± Matt hesitated, searching for the words. ¡°As for what you intended before you met me¡ªI have already told you I would forget it. Your loyalty now matters more than past mistakes.¡±

    The Orc snorted to himself. ¡°Loyalty. An easy thing to speak, but harder to prove.¡±

    ¡°True.¡± Matt rubbed his chin for a second. ¡°Of course, Morteth was required to sacrifice something for his current elevation.¡±

    Disbelief swept over the Orc¡¯s face. ¡°Is that so?¡±

    Matt nodded. ¡°Yes.¡± He tapped the desk behind him. ¡°You might not have heard, but Margrave Morteth is now unable, by virtue of his position, to represent his House in the Great Council¡ªor of retaining the leadership of his own High Clan. Luckily, Lord Torth appears to be capable of doing both, but¡­¡±

    Understanding washed over the Orc¡¯s features. He sat back in his seat, folding his arms over his chest. ¡°That¡­ is quite a sacrifice, sire. Giving up that opportunity would be a severe blow to someone¡¯s ambitions.¡±

    ¡°I agree. Unfortunately, it would be necessary to keep someone from gathering too much power in one place.¡± Matt smiled. ¡°Besides, could you imagine trying to direct both the army and debating things in the Council? I don¡¯t know if you¡¯ve had the chance to hear about it from your representatives, but I¡¯d rather be on the battlefield.¡±

    Grufen snorted again, this time chuckling a little. ¡°We are of one mind there, sire.¡± He fell silent for a few more moments, as if brooding over the problem. Matt simply watched him, trying to give him the chance to think it over. When the Orc reached a decision, he nodded sharply. ¡°Sire, I would not wish to presume, but if my service ever merits a promotion to Margrave¡­¡±

    Matt held up a hand. ¡°Even though you¡¯d have to surrender control of your Clan?¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t imagine I control them half as much as you might believe, sire.¡± Grufen smiled. ¡°We Hard Scythes are a stubborn, argumentative people, with a strong independent streak. I don¡¯t know if you are aware, but most of our serfs are already freeholders by now, if only because none of them would shut up about it when they heard of the possibility.¡±

    He hadn¡¯t heard of the fact, but it made him let out a short bark of laughter. ¡°That reminds me of some of the people I knew from home.¡±

    Grufen¡¯s smile faded slightly. ¡°Others can sit in Council or look to the prosperity of the Clan. I am a warrior, sire. I can serve best on battlefields, and if I can make sure the warriors of the Clan¡ªof the Kingdom¡ªare not wasted or mistreated¡­ that is worth more than anything else to me. Anything else, sire.¡±

    The commander held his eyes, as if trying to communicate the seriousness of his intent, and Matt slowly nodded in response. ¡°I see.¡± Then he pushed himself off the desk and stood upright. ¡°Lord Grufen. Please stand.¡±

    Grufen blinked. His expression grew suddenly concerned, as if suddenly worried he¡¯d overstepped. All the same, he stood slowly, clearly concerned even though he towered over Matt.

    Matt tried to look appropriately serious. ¡°Lord Grufen, your Kingdom has known your efforts on our behalf, and ending the rebellion in the north is an achievement that will be hard to equal. As such, I see fit to reward you with the title of Margrave, and the rank of Marshall of the North. Do you accept?¡±

    It wasn¡¯t an offer free of ulterior motives. Grufen was going to be a hero to the Gnomes and the Hard Scythes no matter what Matt did, and denying him the greater military rank would only allow him to gather influence outside of the framework that Matt wanted the military to follow. Besides, only having one Margrave beyond himself was a recipe for problems¡ªputting a second commander in the position could only make things easier to balance and control. Maybe between Morteth and Grufen, they¡¯d come to some kind of balance that would sustain them even when Matt wasn¡¯t around.

    The Orc stared at him, astonishment clear on his blunt features. Then he grinned and stuck out a hand. ¡°Sire¡ªmy liege¡ªI accept. And I thank you.¡±

    ¡°No, Margrave Grufen, I thank you.¡± Matt shook his hand, and smiled. ¡°Let your Clan know they need a new leader. I¡¯ll send a proclamation, and then confirm it from Redspire. Tell your friends among the Frost Elves that I¡¯ll accept their official offer of surrender there.¡±

    ¡°I will, sire.¡± Grufen nodded and then looked to the door. ¡°May I¡­¡±

    Matt gestured for him to go. ¡°You¡¯re dismissed, Margrave. I¡¯m sure you have a lot to do, as do I.¡± The Orc bowed again, this time a little more deeply, and then headed out the door. He watched the commander go for a moment longer, and then turned back to the mantras. It hadn¡¯t been a long trip to Summerhall, but it had certainly been a productive one. Now he just had to end at least two more wars and kill another High Clan leader who kept trying to assassinate him. Nothing to it.

 B2Ch4: A New Dilemma

    The return to Redspire was far faster than his journey out.

    Part of that was the fact that Matt was riding out with only his lifeguard to return. He had planned to leave the Irregulars with Grufen, just in case the Frost Elves weren¡¯t quite as beaten as he had assumed. With those reinforcements, the newly minted Margrave would be more than capable of pushing into Winterfast, even with the poor weather and limited supplies. One way or the other, the northern rebellion¡¯s days were numbered.

    Matt also didn¡¯t feel like he needed to watch for ambushes along the road now, so an escorting army seemed a bit excessive. Besides, he wanted to see how much the workers had gotten done while he¡¯d been gone.

    The road back to Redspire was just as cold and unpleasant as he had remembered. While it still hadn¡¯t snowed, the wind was cold enough to blow straight through his cloak and armor, chilling him enough that he half-suspected that there were Winterknights attacking from the woods. His lifeguard shivered and grumbled in their saddles whenever they came to a stop. None of them complained at the fast pace he set them, hoping to outrun any potential assassins that might have tried coming after him in the open.

    All in all, the journey only took a pair of days. In fact, he saw the walls of Redspire rising over the trees just before noon on the second day, with the bridge finally coming into view just after they¡¯d taken a break for lunch.

    It wasn¡¯t a bad bridge, all things considered. The construction spanned the River Crimson and led to the city¡¯s northern gate, where there was a small fort that served to guard the entrance. It was wide enough for two or three carts to rumble across it at the same time, side by side, though the normal flow of traffic usually restricted it to two lines, one going in and one going out. Even during winter, there were plenty of both leaving and entering the city, though the flow snarled and jammed as the traders and workmen paused to rubberneck his lifeguard while they rode past, traveling up the center.

    He caught sight of the guards on top of the wall moving around. They¡¯d probably sent a messenger to the palace the moment he had appeared on the road, but he wasn¡¯t going to wait for someone to come fetch him. There wasn¡¯t time for a grand parade now; besides, he was tired of freezing out in the snow when he could have a warm bath waiting for him in the castle.

    All things considered, it wasn¡¯t too much of a surprise when Gorfeld appeared out of the crowds to join his retinue. ¡°Sire. Welcome back to Redspire.¡±

    ¡°Glad to be home, Gorfeld.¡± He glanced down at the Imp and grinned. ¡°How have things been going since I left? Anything on fire?¡±

    The Imp shook his head. ¡°No, sire. At least, not technically on fire, really.¡±

    Matt sighed. He should have known that things had been going too well. ¡°All right, then, let¡¯s hear it. What¡¯s going on?¡±

    ¡°We¡¯ve received some news from the Sortenmoors. The conflict there is beginning to slow down. Our forces are having more difficulty intercepting Teblas¡¯ supplies, and they report he has started to build strongholds throughout the territory. It may indicate he is close to securing actual control of the Sortenmoors.¡±

    Matt grimaced. Ever since the rebellions had started, he had hoped that Teblas would have been kept busy and worn down by the continued fighting in the Sortenmoors. As disputed territory, it was an inherently valuable spot; the rebel could easily trade it to the hostile Alliance of Light for support. Even if Teblas simply continued to hold it, he would represent a threat to the entire southern part of the Kingdom.

    Unfortunately, it seemed like the initial chaos Matt had managed to provoke by promising his own partisans freeholdership for fighting against the rebels had run its course. He¡¯d need to deal with Teblas directly now, rather than continuing to ignore him. ¡°What about the Alliance of Light? Have they made an appearance?¡±

    ¡°It appears they are still gathering their forces and supplies, sire. Our last reports put most of their armies well south of the Sortenmoors, but that will likely change once spring begins.¡±

    Which gave him roughly eight weeks to get ready for an invasion that would make Hethwellow¡¯s absolute disaster of an attempt look like a clumsy, fumbling mob. The southern Alliance had apparently gathered nearly forty banners of troops, easily two or three times what Matt would be able to muster. Unless Matt came up with some better strategy than ¡®hope the Alliance gave up their invasion out of charity,¡¯ it wasn¡¯t going to be a pleasant spring.

    He shook his head. ¡°Is there anything else?¡±

    ¡°There are a few more minor problems. The Speakers have established a camp east of the city, and have been inviting children to listen to them. Some of the city¡¯s Low Folk and nobility have complained about it, saying the children are neglecting their work.¡±

    Matt grimaced. ¡°Sounds like a problem for the Council, not me.¡±

    Gorfeld grinned. ¡°True, but I believe they expect you to weigh in on the matter, especially since you invited the Speakers back to the capitol in the first place.¡± The steward shrugged and continued. ¡°Some of the residents of the city have complained about the ongoing construction work. Apparently, Parufeth has disrupted some of the usual business of the city by digging new channels and building new tunnels for your projects. They have submitted complaints to you about the matter.¡±

    ¡°Great.¡± Matt rubbed at his forehead. ¡°Don¡¯t we have a Magistrate who can hear those complaints?¡±

    ¡°We do, but seeing as you are Parufeth¡¯s employer, you are involved in the matter.¡± Then Gorfeld sighed. ¡°There is also a new group of emissaries from the Western Coalition. They apparently have a proposal for you, which they wished to present to you personally.¡±

    Matt eyed his steward skeptically. ¡°You¡¯re sure that it is actually them this time? It¡¯s not another group of assassins using poor Ambassador Paralus as a cover, right?¡±

    ¡°We¡¯ve been careful to make sure, sire. We even checked with Paralus himself, and he endorsed them.¡± Gorfeld pulled out a small scrap of parchment. ¡°There are around twelve of them, and they¡¯ve been waiting in Paralus¡¯ apartments for your return.¡±

    He blinked, trying to think through the possibilities. It wasn¡¯t likely that the Western Coalition was looking for a military alliance with his Kingdom; it had been a minor miracle that he¡¯d managed to avoid a war with them, just a few weeks ago. More likely, they were interested in some kind of trade agreement or diplomatic exchange.

    Matt didn¡¯t know why they would need to wait for his personal attendance, however. Paralus should have been able to inform them that the Great Council was more than capable of making treaties or negotiating trade. Why delay things until he was present? Was it some kind of trap?

    Then he snorted and shook his head. Being a king was making him too paranoid. Assassins and enemies couldn¡¯t be literally everywhere, even in this place.

    ¡°Send a messenger to the ambassadors to let them know that I am back and let them know I should have time to speak with them tomorrow. For now, is the truce with the Noble Races holding?¡±

    Gorfeld nodded, his expression betraying a hint of surprise at the question. ¡°Of course, sire. We released their prisoners as planned some time ago, and Margrave Morteth escorted them all the way to the border. He¡¯s still there with a handful of banners, making sure that the first scheduled tributes are delivered and guarded appropriately. I believe that the first payments should arrive within the next day.¡±

    Matt let out a relieved sigh. The pressure on the treasury would lessen at that point, which would be crucial. With the war ending in the north as well, things were finally looking up. If only he could finish the foundation for his magic as well¡­

    Matt waited for the representatives from the Western Coalition in his throne room.

    It was a grand chamber, and one that had seen more than its share of dramatic incidents throughout the history of the Kingdom. His own reign had seen a few of them, from his coronation and the initial declarations of rebellion and war, to the moment he¡¯d taken Melren into his service, to the time he¡¯d initially received the first ambassadors from the same Coalition he meant to meet today.

    He only wished that it was not quite so¡­ grim a place. The red stained glass filled the room with light the color of blood, and the throne itself was built of some dark metal that could have been ripped from an evil empire in a storybook. Much of the rest of the room was just as grim and unwelcoming as the windows. When he had first come here, there had been no chairs or anything else, just carved columns and distant tapestries.

    At least he¡¯d managed to change a small amount of that. He¡¯d installed a small table¡ªby royal standards, at least¡ªwith enough chairs to handle any embassy that was sent to his Kingdom. All the better, he¡¯d be able to welcome them from the throne and then take a far more comfortable seat at the table.

    The doors opened, and the lifeguard stationed all around the room tensed in response. A familiarly dressed group walked through the doors, led by Ambassador Paralus himself.

    Matt could see that the past few weeks had not been kind to the young Wizard. He¡¯d always struck Matt as something of an idealist, someone so dedicated to his ideals that reality had a tendency of springing unpleasant surprises on him. All the same, his devotion to the peace between the Kingdom and the Coalition had always seemed genuine, and he had been continually impressed by the construction projects that Matt had sponsored.

    Now, however, the ambassador appeared to have been missing sleep. Perhaps his fledgling attempts at espionage had robbed him of a good night¡¯s rest; Matt felt a little smug about that fact. If the guy wanted to sleep soundly, he just needed to not poke his nose in the Kingdom¡¯s business.

    The rest of the ambassadors were representatives from across the Western Coalition. A Knight from the Order of the Boar, a Dwarf from the Clan of Rust, a trio of Elves from the tribes that bordered the lands of Grufen¡¯s own territory¡­and finally, another Wizard, from the Circle of Echoes. Arguably the nation that had started this whole mess, by running to Earth in an attempt to escape the Red Sorceress. If they hadn¡¯t made that leap, Matt wouldn¡¯t have stumbled across them, he wouldn¡¯t have shot the Red Sorceress when she tried to kill one of them, and he wouldn¡¯t have ended up a King.

    It was hard, sometimes, not to resent them for that fact.

    All the same, Matt waited until they had arranged themselves before the throne and bowed. He acknowledged them with a nod of the head and then rose from the throne. ¡°Welcome to Redspire. I am glad you were able to wait until I returned to the city.¡±

    Paralus glanced at the others before he answered. ¡°It was no trouble at all, King Matthew. In fact, I am grateful for your decision to receive us. These representatives have come from the Coalition with a proposition that may interest you.¡±

    Matt turned to regard the visitors, examining them for a moment. ¡°Then I am glad to receive them as well. Let¡¯s sit.¡±

    He led them over to the table. The lifeguard stirred again, a handful of them stepping closer as the representatives drew close to their seats. Matt settled them back into place with a glance and then gestured for the newcomers to sit. Paralus chose the seat closest to Matt¡¯s left hand, while the representative from the Knights chose the one at his right. All the rest settled in at the other seats, with the second Wizard taking the seat directly across from Matt.

    If you discover this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.

    With a calm that belied the way his heart was pounding in his chest, Matt sat in his own seat, grateful for the cushions that padded it in comparison to the cold metal throne he¡¯d just left. ¡°Now, let¡¯s hear this proposal. I believe our current truce has served both our peoples well. Is there something more we can do to help one another?¡±

    Paralus hesitated, glancing again at the other Wizard. Matt looked in that direction as well, realizing that Paralus was probably not the deciding authority among the representatives in the room, and the other Wizard smiled slightly. ¡°You are correct that the truce between us has been beneficial to us both. Your word has proved reliable and true, and it has avoided what would have certainly been a catastrophe had we declared war on one another.¡±

    As a King who was not interested in yet another war on another of his borders, Matt nodded, and then gestured for the Wizard to continue.

    ¡°As such, King Matthew, our rulers have sent us with the mission of establishing a lasting peace between the Kingdom of Iron and the Western Coalition.¡±

    Matt froze. It was everything that he could have ever wanted.

    He didn¡¯t want to be fighting any of these people. There was nothing he could gain from them by war that he couldn¡¯t gain just from being able to sit in place for a few years and build things. If everyone around him would just leave him alone, he thought he could get this place to the point where anyone who was made a king of the place would have nothing but boredom to worry about. The idea that one of his primary neighbors was just offering to do exactly that, out of nowhere at all, was an absolute miracle.

    It took a moment of struggle not to leap out of his seat to kiss the stuffy old Wizard right on the mouth. Another moment gave him enough calm to speak with the due decorum the situation demanded. ¡°I¡­ would be highly interested in this possibility. I have never seen the need for hostility between the Kingdom and the Coalition, and I believe that once we have a declared peace, we might even have the chance to explore options of trade and other matters. If your rulers have seen the benefit in that future as well, then I believe we will have a lot to celebrate soon.¡±

    The Wizard grinned, and something about it set off a few alarm bells in Matt¡¯s mind. ¡°I am grateful to see that you are just as dedicated to this ideal as we are. Of course, I understand that your¡­ Great Council, I believe it is called? That your Great Council will need to review the terms and lend their wisdom to the conditions of the treaty.¡±

    Matt nodded slowly. ¡°They will. While I remain King of the realm, I respect the traditions and insight that the nobility provide, but I believe they will see the same potential for prosperity that I do.¡± At least, they would if they knew what was good for them.

    ¡°Then we seek your permission to address the Council, so that we can present the terms of the treaty to them.¡± The Wizard¡¯s smile widened slightly, in a way that made Matt a little more uneasy. A glance to the side told him that Paralus was sinking back into his seat a little. Why wasn¡¯t the younger Wizard excited about the possibility of a peace treaty? Before now, he would have expected Paralus to be butting in with overly-pacifistic demands about reductions in armies and disarmament. Now he just sat low in his chair and suspiciously avoided Matt¡¯s gaze.

    Matt turned back to the head of the table, his eyes narrowing slightly. Things were going too well. Was this some kind of assassination attempt, after all? Or was there some kind of poison mixed in with the candy here? ¡°You are welcome to address the Council at your earliest convenience. I can send them a message so that they can make time for your negotiations.¡± Then he paused and tilted his head to one side. ¡°Was there anything else you needed from me?¡±

    The representatives shifted slightly, but the Wizard at their head merely nodded in what seemed like a friendly manner. ¡°Only one more thing. In the interest of our continued friendship, and the peace between our peoples, we have brought you a gift.¡± He turned and gestured to where a page was waiting beside the outer doors. The Knight stepped through the doors, and Matt felt his unease increase. This time, when the lifeguard shifted in their posts, he didn¡¯t bother looking in their direction.

    ¡°It has come to our attention that you have had¡­difficulty in finding an appropriate Consort among those you rule.¡± Matt¡¯s attention snapped back to the Wizard, who seemed far too self-satisfied about something. His heart beat faster as the man continued. ¡°It can be a lonely task, to rule alone among strangers. For this reason, we have sought out a solution for you, to ease your burdens. We hope this act can cement our friendship and the peace we both seek.¡±

    Matt opened his mouth to explain, in what he hoped was a calm and controlled manner, that the choice of his Consort was no business of anyone but himself. Before he could, though, he heard someone speak from where another small group of ambassadors had stepped through the doors.

    ¡°Holy shit, are you human?¡±

    His head turned back to the door so quickly his vision almost blurred.

    There was a woman standing in front of the doors.

    She was dressed in a medieval style dress, something fashioned from rich red cloth and a moderate amount of white lace. Her long black hair fell in thick tresses down her back, and she stood about his same height. None of that mattered nearly as much as her dark brown eyes, both of which were fixed on him, and both of which looked entirely, impossibly human. The pupils were normal sized, he could see the whites without her looking to the sides, and the way she stood¡­

    Matt rose from his seat without realizing it. There was something so right about her, about the way she stood and stared at him. It was like the people around him had just been acting, impersonating actual human beings so poorly that the difference was so brutal and clear that he could never even hope to deny it. At the same time, it was so hard to define that he couldn¡¯t pinpoint the differences exactly; he could have spent an entire month trying to find the words, and would have come no closer than when he started.

    The woman stepped forward, her face desperate¡ªit was so easy to read the emotions on her face¡ªonly for the lifeguards at her side to reach out and stop her. She glanced at them and then looked back at Matt with something close to panic. ¡°Look, I don¡¯t know what these things are, and you¡¯re the first human I¡¯ve seen since I got here. They keep saying things, but I don¡¯t understand¡ª¡±

    She cut off as the Wizard at the head of the table spoke. ¡°As you can see, King Matthew, she is a woman from your home world. We are sure that she will meet your expectations far more than any¡­ individual that your own subjects could present to you here. I am sure¡ª¡±

    ¡°Paralus.¡± The Wizard cut off, and a subtle ache started between Matt¡¯s eyes. He looked over at the younger Wizard, intentionally ignoring the more senior visitor. ¡°I¡­ appreciate the gift you¡¯ve sought to give me, and I can accept her as a¡­ servant in my court, but I am sworn not to accept a Consort until my land is at peace. I will speak with her in order to determine how best she can serve my Kingdom.¡±

    The older Wizard tried to speak up again. ¡°King Matthew¡ª¡±

    ¡°Unfortunately, I have work to do now, for the sake of my people. You may bring these representatives to your apartments and bring them before the Great Council to discuss the treaty. I may also call on you over a separate matter.¡± He kept his voice light, but the way Paralus¡¯ face drained of color told him that the ambassador had read the appropriate meaning in his words.

    Then, keeping his expression locked down and his voice neutral, Matt looked around the rest of the table. ¡°Thank you again, for your visit, your intentions for peace, and for your¡­ gift. May you find everything in Redspire that you were looking for.¡±

    He stood, and the visiting ambassadors stared at him in a mixture of surprise and unease. Then Paralus jerked up and out of his seat, leading the others to follow suit. The ambassador bowed low. ¡°Thank you for your time, King Matthew. I will wait for your summons.¡±

    He gave the others a brief, but serious, look before he led them out of the room. The woman¡ªthe human woman¡ªwatched them go with more traces of desperation, but they didn¡¯t look at her at all. When the last of them stepped through the door, Matt looked to the lifeguards. ¡°Guard the door and let go of her arms. One of you go get Melren and Gorfeld. Now.¡±

    The lifeguards took one look at him and then sprang into action. Both of the Orcs holding the woman¡¯s arms jerked back as if she had been lit on fire, and an Imp and a Goblin near the door darted out of the door at a flat sprint. Those who remained in the room began to search every nook and cranny, as if scouring the place for signs of a threat.

    For her part, the woman just watched, staring around at the armed and armored Orcs, Goblins, Imps, and Gnomes. She waited for a moment longer, as if to make sure that the lifeguards weren¡¯t going to come closer to her. Then she looked at Matt.

    ¡°Who are you? Why am I here? Where is this place, anyway?¡±

    Matt looked at her, and then sat back down. He braced his elbows on the table and started massaging his own forehead with his hands. ¡°My name is Matthew Irons. You¡¯re in a place called Redspire. As for why you are here¡­¡±

    He paused, searching for the words. The woman spoke before he could manage it. ¡°Did you say something about a Consort before? Because if that¡¯s why I¡¯m here, I swear, I¡¯m going to¡ª¡±

    ¡°No! No. At least, that¡¯s not what I want at all.¡± Matt leaned back in his chair, looking back up at the ceiling. ¡°The people who brought you here were trying to mess with the people who live in this place, and they thought they could do that by bringing you here and giving you to me.¡± She opened her mouth, clearly ready to respond to it, and he spoke faster than she could start yelling. ¡°I¡¯m not going to go along with it! I¡¯ll find something else for you to do, some paperwork or something, at least until I can get you home. I didn¡¯t want you here, and I¡¯m sorry you were kidnapped, but we¡¯re going to fix this.¡±

    She stared at him, her eyebrow twitching slightly. Then she spoke in a voice full of gritted teeth and barely restrained shouting. ¡°And how exactly are you going to do that? They brought me here in some kind of flash, like it was¡­¡±

    He grinned when she trailed off. ¡°Like magic? That¡¯s because it was.¡± Matt spread his arms wide. ¡°In case the fantasy creatures and castle didn¡¯t clue you in, magic is all over the place here. I don¡¯t know it myself, but I have people who can use that sort of magic. I¡¯m going to figure out if they can¡ª¡±

    Behind her, the doors suddenly slammed open, and Gorfeld came barreling through them. The steward skidded to a stop at the sight of the woman, and his eyes widened. He looked at Matt. ¡°Sire?¡±

    ¡°Gorfeld.¡± Matt gave his steward a tight smile. ¡°Our friends in the Western Coalition have apparently decided to try and gift me a Consort. From Earth.¡±

    ¡°So I see.¡± Gorfeld appeared to be trying to school his features back to neutrality, but the Imp was clearly rattled. ¡°Is she working for them, sire?¡±

    ¡°She doesn¡¯t even know the language, Gorfeld. I¡¯m pretty sure I¡¯m the only one she understands.¡±

    The woman cleared her throat, folding her arms in front of her. ¡°Just because you are right doesn¡¯t make this okay. Do any of these things speak English?¡±

    ¡°No.¡± Matt held up a hand for a moment. ¡°You¡¯re the one who came to get me, Gorfeld. Can you take her back?¡±

    The steward blinked. Then he shook his head. ¡°I was able to journey to you because of the Divine Right. It connected me to you through your link to the land. Without that guide¡­ it would be difficult to locate the precise world. I could not be confident of the portal.¡±

    Matt grimaced, and then a thought struck him. ¡°Oh really? So how were you planning on sending me home once I was done here? Was I just going through a random portal and hoping for the best?¡±

    Gorfeld shifted his feet slightly. ¡°Ah, well, I had planned on having more time to arrange your departure. If it was necessary, sire.¡±

    He glared at the steward a moment longer. Then he grimaced and shook his head. ¡°Fine. We can deal with that later. How long will it take to get her home?¡±

    ¡°I¡­ cannot say, sire. I would need to consult with some experts.¡±

    The woman broke in before Matt could continue. ¡°You know, I only hear half the conversation, but I¡¯m not liking what I¡¯m hearing.¡±

    ¡°That makes two of us, miss¡­¡± Matt trailed off with the uncomfortable realization that he didn¡¯t know her name.

    ¡°Tanya. Tanya Richardson.¡±

    ¡°Miss Richardson.¡± Matt drew in a steady breath. ¡°It¡¯s looking like it might take a little longer than I hoped to get you home, but we¡¯ll get it done.¡±

    She did not look convinced. ¡°You¡¯d better. If not, you have no idea how much trouble you¡¯re going to be in.¡±

    The blatant threat was almost humorous, given the amount of danger he¡¯d faced over the past few weeks. Matt fought the urge to smile. ¡°Hey, just so you remember, I didn¡¯t ask for you to come here. If you feel like you could find a better way home, you¡¯re welcome to leave. No one here will stop you.¡±

    Tanya gave him a glare, which Matt ignored. He turned back to Gorfeld. ¡°Give her a set of quarters in the palace and let the servants know that she¡¯s going to need help. You might need to keep an eye on her; I don¡¯t think she¡¯s going to be able to speak with you the way I can.¡±

    Gorfeld nodded. ¡°Because she lacks the Divine Right? That is¡­ a problem.¡± The steward looked at her, and Tanya stiffened as if ready to run from a threat. He didn¡¯t appear to notice. ¡°I have learned a small amount of your language. Perhaps it will be enough to communicate.¡±

    ¡°Do your best.¡± Matt paused as the doors opened and Melren came through. He gestured for the former nobleman to wait and then turned back to Tanya. ¡°Go with my steward here. He¡¯ll show you where you can stay while we figure this out. You can trust him to take care of you. He¡¯s loyal to me.¡±

    The words seemed to make Gorfeld a little embarrassed for some reason, but the Imp offered Tanya a respectful bow. She examined him with an expression of distaste. ¡°So he¡¯s your what, a butler or something? What are you anyway? Are you some kind of emperor or something?¡±

    Matt hesitated for a moment. ¡°I can explain more later, but for now¡­ they brought me here to be their king. I¡¯m staying here to help them, but you don¡¯t need to.¡± He glanced at the others, and then back to her. ¡°Go with Gorfeld for now. You¡¯ll be safe. I promise.¡±

    Tanya stared at him, her expression somehow both hopeful and calculating. Then she slowly nodded. ¡°I¡¯ll go, but we are going to talk about this later. I¡¯m not staying here.¡±

    He kept himself from responding right away. Instead, he simply bowed his head slightly and gestured for her to head for the doors. She swept out behind Gorfeld, who gave Matt a quiet nod of the head. Without looking, a pair of the lifeguards peeled away from the walls of the chamber to follow both of them out; he gave them a grateful look as they went to guard his steward and their unexpected ¡®guest¡¯.

    The doors swung closed a moment later, and Matt finally looked back at Melren. ¡°Well. I¡¯m afraid I am going to have some questions for you.¡±

 B2Ch5: The Scope of the Problem

    ¡°Two seasons?¡±

    ¡°At the very least, sire.¡± Melren shook his head. ¡°To attempt to do it more quickly is to invite disaster.¡±

    Matt grimaced. ¡°Let me guess. We¡¯d create some kind of explosion? Maybe big enough to level the city or something?¡±

    ¡°Not precisely, but there have been worse problems.¡± When Matt gave him an incredulous look, Melren shrugged. ¡°There have been multiple portal attempts that ended in failure. Unless the pathway is well controlled, then it has a risk of reaching a world very much unlike our own. There are millions of worlds throughout the cosmos. Worlds where the air is poison, where the sky itself is alight with fire. There can be shifts in time or voids that can rip the magic from every person nearby a place. The only way to avoid such disasters would be to tread carefully.¡±

    Grimacing, Matt shook his head. ¡°How did the Circle of Echoes manage to get to Earth in the first place, then? The Red Sorceress didn¡¯t seem to have any problems getting there, either.¡±

    ¡°The Circle of Echoes is somewhat famous for their knowledge of the pathways between worlds. Their ancestors often explored the cosmos during times of peace, and their caution in doing so has led to them having many such worlds they can travel to. I imagine that your ¡®Earth¡¯ is simply a world they visited sometime in the distant past, which they already knew how to reach.¡±

    Melren leaned back in his seat, clearly unhappy. ¡°As for the Red Sorceress¡­ she was close enough to see the portal made. It is a far easier task to follow someone marked by your magic than it is to forge a pathway yourself. She merely chased the fools to your world, much the same way that Gorfeld followed the beacon of your Divine Right to bring you here. Even then, she risked death in doing so.¡± Then the former nobleman grinned. ¡°Though I suppose her luck did run short eventually, did it not?¡±

    It was hard for Matt to see the humor in the situation. Two seasons meant something close to six months, and he doubted Tanya was willing to wait that long before she went home. For that matter, he wasn¡¯t sure he wanted to wait that long, but his situation was a bit different.

    All the same, he¡¯d believed, at least in the back of his mind, that he¡¯d have the option of simply running back to Earth if things went badly in the Kingdom. He¡¯d even surrender the throne to someone else first, if only to keep the others from hunting him down. Now that he knew that he didn¡¯t have that option, it made dealing with the remaining threats to his Kingdom that much more important. His back really was to a wall now; there could be no real retreat.

    Still, he couldn¡¯t exactly ignore Tanya¡¯s presence for the next twenty-six weeks. Even if he officially hadn¡¯t accepted her as a Consort, people were probably going to see two Humans in the castle and make¡­ assumptions. Having a King that was suspected to be a philanderer was bad, but combined with the supposed prophecy that had instructed him not to take a Consort, it would be bad enough to actually start shaking morale across the Kingdom. He could not afford to lose the confidence of his people over a rumor like that, not with the Alliance gathering in the south, Suluth still trying to kill him, and Teblas still in active rebellion.

    He''d worked too hard to save this Kingdom just to let it slip away over one person.

    Matt looked up from the table. He idly tapped it with a finger. ¡°All right. I want you to find the best available experts in portal knowledge. Have them search for a way to return her home, as carefully as they need to. In the meantime, is there a way to help her be able to understand your language? If she is here for some time, it will only get worse if she can¡¯t speak to anyone but me.¡±

    Melren blinked, and then nodded. ¡°There are a few spells that may help the situation. I can attempt to find a few mages that can act as¡­ attendants for your guest. They should be able to help her speak with the rest of us.¡±

    ¡°Thank you.¡± Matt rubbed at his forehead for a moment. There was an ache there that threatened to grow into a migraine soon. If the Western Coalition had meant to weaken and distract him, even while they sought the protection of a peace treaty, then they had definitely succeeded. ¡°I would search for that spell myself, but I am so close to completing my first foundation. I don¡¯t want to abandon it now.¡±

    His advisor looked briefly uncomfortable. ¡°About that, sire. I know that you have been making excellent progress with your foundation, but I wonder if we shouldn¡¯t be more careful about completing it. We don¡¯t even have any real Spell Chants available for you to use once it is finished.¡±

    Matt waved Melren¡¯s concerns away with one hand. ¡°Oh, I managed to get quite a few of them out of the Gnomes when I visited Summerhall. Once I finally finish the last of the foundation, I should be good to start actually practicing things.¡±

    The Imp looked a little disturbed at that response. He shifted slightly on his chair. ¡°From the Gnomes? I suppose they might have some small amount of magecraft in that area, but still¡­¡± Melren shifted again, as if hesitant. ¡°It is always wise to use some caution when you are exploring a new¡ª¡±

    The doors to the throne room opened, admitting a messenger who made a beeline straight for Matt. She handed over a small scroll, and Matt read over it quickly and sighed. ¡°The Great Council is requesting my attention. Apparently, someone has already told them about Tanya and the Western Coalition¡¯s offer. I need to make sure that they don¡¯t think that I am ruining our future by allying with an enemy.¡±

    Melren paused. Then he gave Matt a crooked smile. ¡°We aren¡¯t allying with an enemy, are we, sire?¡±

    Matt snorted. ¡°No. They aren¡¯t exactly friends, but I think they¡¯re going to be relying on petty tricks and pretty words to fight us rather than magic and swords. Given everything else we are facing, I¡¯d say that¡¯s a better fight, wouldn¡¯t you?¡±

    ¡°As you say, sire.¡± Melren¡¯s nod wasn¡¯t as certain as it could have been, but Matt guessed that might have been because the Imp didn¡¯t have a lot of experience with the word ¡®peace¡¯ in any meaningful sense. Maybe it would be a difficulty that much of his Kingdom would have with the new state of affairs. Hopefully, it wouldn¡¯t be too much of a problem.

    He stood up from the table and Melren rose along with him. ¡°Is there anything else you need from me to help Tanya?¡±

    Melren hesitated and then shook his head. ¡°No, sire. I will see to what is needed.¡±

    Matt nodded and shook Melren¡¯s hand. Then he started for the doors. There were going to be more problems waiting for him, but at least he¡¯d have some people helping him with the whole ¡®kidnapped woman¡¯ one.

    He just wished that he could convince himself that he wouldn¡¯t have more headaches from her than he would from Teblas and the Alliance.

    Gorfeld stepped into the study and bowed when Matt looked up. ¡°Ambassador Paralus is here, sire.¡±

    ¡°Oh. Good.¡± Matt set down the quill he¡¯d been using and sat back in his seat. ¡°Please send him in.¡±

    The steward nodded and stepped out. A moment later, the ambassador from the Western Coalition came in.

    Paralus had definitely seen better days. The young Wizard seemed a little disheveled, even more than he had the day before. He still didn¡¯t seem to be getting any sleep, and his eyes darted nervously around the room to look at the lifeguards that were standing at the ready.

    He probably didn¡¯t enjoy meeting with Matt alone, but the rest of his supposed compatriots were speaking with the Great Council at the moment, hashing out the details of the future peace treaty. Matt had attended the morning session to put his approval on the process, but other than that, he had little interest in the incessant haggling. The Council members would do a better job than he would at hammering out any vulnerabilities, and the Kingdom needed him for other tasks.

    Like sending a message to a supposedly peaceful nation that had decided to tamper with his people.

    Matt stood, placing his hands on the desk in front of him. Paralus¡¯ attention locked back onto him, and Matt gave him a level look. ¡°Ambassador.¡±

    Paralus gulped a little and inclined his head. ¡°King Matthew.¡±

    ¡°Thank you for coming to meet with me.¡± Matt paused. ¡°I am glad the rest of your countrymen could spare you from the negotiations.¡±

    The young Wizard managed a shaky version of a wry smile. ¡°I believe they felt they were more than experienced enough with the art of negotiation to achieve success without my contributions. They felt their wisdom was¡­ sufficient for the task.¡±

    There was a subtle hint in those words, and Matt returned Paralus¡¯ smile. ¡°They do seem rather confident of their plans, don¡¯t they? Are you?¡±

    The smile abruptly vanished from Paralus¡¯ face. He looked around at the lifeguards again. ¡°I¡¯m not sure what you mean, my lord.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m sure you do.¡± Matt walked around to plant himself on the front of the desk. He did not invite the ambassador to sit. ¡°I¡¯m sure that you are supportive of the peace treaty they are currently negotiating. I am not as sure that you are interested in their other plan. The one where your people conveniently found a Consort for me.¡±

    Paralus¡¯ face went a bit pale, but he did an admirable job of standing his ground¡ªeven if he had suddenly developed a rather intense interest in the ceiling behind Matt¡¯s head. ¡°The companion we found for you was presented in the interest of our continued friendship and support for your reign.¡±

    Matt rolled his eyes. ¡°It definitely didn¡¯t have anything to do with a prophecy or a hope of distracting me when it appeared we were starting to make progress here. Certainly nothing of the sort. Right?¡±

    When the Wizard didn¡¯t respond, Matt shook his head. ¡°I¡¯m not going to hold you personally responsible for what happened, Paralus. I¡¯ve had an experience or two when I had to handle someone else¡¯s bad idea, so I know where you are right now. Here¡¯s the problem. Just because I won¡¯t hold you personally responsible doesn¡¯t mean someone else won¡¯t.¡±

    This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.

    Paralus finally made eye contact. He seemed confused now, almost as much as he was terrified. ¡°What do you¡ªI mean, may I ask who you speak of, my lord?¡±

    Matt smiled. ¡°I¡¯m going to trust you with a few secrets, Paralus. I hope you do not hold them in confidence. In fact, share them with as many people as you can back home. Can you do that?¡±

    The Wizard¡¯s confusion seemed to grow a little worse, and Matt shrugged. ¡°When I first met Alerios, when I killed the Red Sorceress, I told him something about my home. Did he ever tell you what it was?¡±

    Paralus shook his head, and Matt continued in an even voice. ¡°It was when he told me I was going to be King of the Crimson Peaks. My answer was that my home didn¡¯t have kings. We¡¯re freeholders, or something close to it. All of us.¡±

    A look of sheer astonishment spread across Paralus¡¯ face for a moment. Just as quickly, it was swallowed by a fascinated kind of calculation. ¡°No kings? How are you governed then? Does each person stand for themselves? But no, it would be chaos¡­¡±

    ¡°We choose our leaders. Similar to the way my freeholders now choose Voices.¡± There was a jerk of motion from the lifeguards, and Matt gave them a quick glance. Even if he was quiet about it, he was sure Tanya was going to start spreading it around soon enough. ¡°Those leaders are committed to defending our people and their rights, the same way that I am committed to defending the people of this Kingdom.¡±

    ¡°Now, Paralus, what would happen if a neighboring nation captured one of my freeholders? What would happen if tomorrow I woke up and found out that someone had snuck into the work camps and taken Parufeth away, for example?¡±

    The Wizard blinked. He¡¯d become fairly friendly with the Gnome during his visits to the various worksites around the city. His response carried a hint of heat from the idea of his friend being taken. ¡°I imagine you would seek his freedom, my lord. That you would set your armies after them until they surrendered your freeholder or were destroyed.¡±

    Matt nodded. ¡°Even if I were callous enough to ignore it, the Voices would demand action, wouldn¡¯t they? After all, they were chosen by the very people who are being carried off.¡± Paralus nodded, his expression growing a little concerned now. ¡°Now, I want to ask you something else. How many people live in the Western Coalition?¡±

    Paralus blinked again, as if thrown by the non sequitur. ¡°We represent something close to seven hundred thousand people, my lord.¡±

    He nodded easily. ¡°That¡¯s about what I thought. My Kingdom is a little smaller, even if you count the parts in rebellion.¡± Matt pushed off the desk and walked around it, gesturing to the map. ¡°The Alliance of Light has something like six hundred thousand, and the Noble Races are, like your Coalition, closer to seven hundred thousand.¡±

    The Wizard nodded, as if mystified by the numbers and how they related to the topic at hand. ¡°So I understand, my lord.¡±

    ¡°Now, the second secret. How many people do you believe are in the nation I call home?¡±

    Paralus paused, calculations running through his eyes. ¡°I cannot say, my lord. I would need to know how your people support themselves, how they live¡­¡±

    The Wizard trailed off as Matt held up a hand. ¡°Let me help you, then. The largest city close to where I lived held well over seven hundred thousand people.¡± An absolute silence fell, and Matt smiled as he continued. ¡°If you count the surrounding towns within a day¡¯s travel, there were more people in that one spot than in the Coalition, the Alliance, the Noble Races, and my Kingdom combined.¡±

    Matt leaned forward over the desk. ¡°And it isn¡¯t even close to being our biggest city. Your people number in the thousands, Paralus. The people of my home number in the millions. Their soldiers alone outnumber every serf, noble, and peasant in your lands.¡±

    He let the silence hang in the air for a moment longer. Paralus was staring at him, speechless, with eyes so wide they actually showed the whites now. Unless Matt was imagining things, the man was shaking a little.

    Matt waited a moment longer, and then he continued. ¡°Now, for the last secret. I killed the Red Sorceress, Paralus. It wasn¡¯t even hard. She was one of the mightiest mages in your world. I understand few could challenge her, and when she came with her Grim Hounds for your leader, all Alerios and the others could hope to do was run.¡±

    Paralus nodded, licking his lips as if he was trying to work some moisture back into them. Matt paused one more time for dramatic effect and then spoke again. ¡°Now, Paralus, was I even one of our soldiers?¡±

    The reaction this time was rather gratifying. Paralus frowned, as if in shocked denial. ¡°O-of course you were. I mean, you¡ªyou¡­¡±

    He saw the horror steal across Paralus¡¯ face, and Matt nodded slowly. ¡°I was just a freeholder, Paralus. The same as a town watchman, I suppose. Not trained as a soldier at all.¡±

    Paralus reached out with a trembling hand to take hold of the chair. It appeared he needed to brace himself slightly.

    Matt pushed onward, trying to keep his voice light as he walked around the table again. ¡°So, to reiterate. My old home had more than enough power to wipe your whole people off the map without trying. They might not even send more than a banner or two to do it, and they would still win.¡± Then he stepped right up to Paralus and stared down into the Wizard¡¯s face. ¡°And you just kidnapped one of their freeholders. To distract me. Do you have any idea what kind of disaster you almost caused?¡±

    It took a long time for Paralus to answer. When the Wizard managed it, he spoke with a shaking voice. ¡°I-I understand now, my lord.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m glad to hear it.¡± Matt smiled. ¡°Now, can I trust you can emphasize to your friends back home that this little game needs to never be played again?¡±

    ¡°You can, my lord.¡± Paralus gave him a firm nod. His fingers on the back of the chair clenched. ¡°I will make every effort to explain the¡­ situation you¡¯ve described. You have my thanks.¡±

    ¡°And you have mine.¡± Matt gave him a clap on the shoulder that almost collapsed the poor Wizard. ¡°Of course, if you could pass along any knowledge that would help me return the poor woman home, that would also be¡­ appreciated. By everyone involved.¡±

    Paralus nodded again, his lips working for a moment in silence. It was clear the ambassador was slowly breaking through the disbelief and shock. Anger¡ªhopefully at whatever idiots had conceived of the plan¡ªwas starting to simmer at the edges of his overlarge eyes. ¡°I will do my best, my lord. Again, thank you for your concern.¡±

    Then he paused and stuck out a hand. ¡°I look forward to peace between our peoples.¡±

    Matt shook his hand wordlessly, and Paralus bowed slightly. Then he left the room, his legs looking steadier with each step. He watched the Wizard go for a moment and then gestured for Gorfeld to come in and close the door. As the steward obeyed, Matt went back to his seat behind the desk and half-collapsed into it.

    Gorfeld was sober and quiet as he crossed over the desk. ¡°My liege, are we at risk?¡±

    Matt looked up in surprise. Not that he was shocked that the steward had been eavesdropping; he more or less suspected that Gorfeld was aware of every conversation that happened in his study. Instead, it was the apparent worry on Gorfeld¡¯s face that had caught him off guard. ¡°No more than we have been before. Why do you ask?¡±

    ¡°The way you described your home¡­ I did not know what I had risked by demanding you come with me. You¡¯ve already done so much for us. If you wished to return¡­¡±

    He cut Gorfeld off with a wave. ¡°I went with you willingly, Gorfeld. It wasn¡¯t the same situation.¡± Then he hesitated. ¡°Besides, I might not have told our dear friend the whole truth. As powerful as my people are, they have no idea about how to travel between worlds. At least, not through portals. They¡¯d have to figure out that part first before they came after anyone.¡±

    Gorfeld raised an eyebrow. ¡°And if they do figure it out, sire?¡±

    ¡°Then we¡¯ll just have to make sure they talk instead of attack.¡± Matt shook his head, picturing the United States military marching on Redspire. ¡°But I don¡¯t think that will be necessary. As long as we get Tanya back home quickly, we shouldn¡¯t have to worry at all about any of that stuff¡ªespecially since I¡¯ve hopefully convinced our dear friends to the west that it is practically suicide to keep going back there.¡±

    The steward nodded, and Matt went back to the documents in front of him. He¡¯d have to go visit Tanya later, to make sure she wasn¡¯t fitting in too badly. If he could just keep her calm for the next few weeks and put enough pressure on the Western Coalition, he was sure he could get her back home safely. Then he could worry about all the rest of his problems.

    ¡°Oh! Thanks, but no. I think I¡¯m going to stay here.¡±

    Matt stared at Tanya, not quite believing his ears. ¡°What?¡±

    She paused mid-brush through her dark hair and fixed him with a surprised look. ¡°I said I¡¯m going to stay here. Do you not hear very well?¡±

    He stared at her for a moment longer and then looked around the room for any evidence that his grip on reality had slipped somehow. Maybe Suluth had managed to get some kind of illusion mage into the castle to mess with him.

    His inspection of the chamber failed to turn up anything suspicious, though. It was a small antechamber for one of the ¡®guest¡¯ rooms in the castle. It had been empty since the Red Sorceress had thrown out the remnants of the Obsidian King¡¯s collection of concubines; Matt had been silently praying that Tanya wouldn¡¯t discover the sordid past behind the room once he¡¯d realized where the palace staff had put her.

    Not that it looked like she was overly concerned about anything at the moment. The antechamber had been furnished with a red cushioned couch, with four matching chairs set up in a semi-circle in front of it. Tanya was lounging and combing her hair on the couch, while a couple of Goblin servants from the castle were standing by at attention, ready to see to her needs. There was a desk set up in front of a broad window that looked out over the rest of Redspire, giving her a fairly good view of the city all the way to Victory Square. If he wanted to squint, he could probably see the damn statue, fist still raised in victory.

    Thinking about that statue wasn¡¯t doing him any favors, so he tried to focus back on Tanya. She had started moving the brush again, humming to herself softly. Matt tried to sound reasonably calm. ¡°I don¡¯t understand. You asked me to get you back home. That¡¯s what I¡¯ve been trying to do.¡±

    Tanya shrugged. ¡°Yeah. I changed my mind.¡±

    Matt stared at her a couple of seconds longer before he managed to grind out a response. ¡°Why?¡±

    ¡°Why not?¡± Tanya gestured. ¡°Look, it¡¯s not a problem, right? People disappear all the time back home. It¡¯s not like anyone¡¯s going to think it¡¯s that big a deal if I stay here a few years, right?¡±

    ¡°A few¡ª!¡± Matt tried to reel himself back in. ¡°You can¡¯t stay here. You have to go home.¡±

    ¡°Why can¡¯t I stay? Aren¡¯t you the King? I mean, you¡¯re the one in charge, right?¡± She waved a dismissive hand. ¡°Just tell them I¡¯ll be staying as long as you are.¡±

    ¡°Tanya. It¡¯s dangerous here.¡± Matt was speaking through gritted teeth at this point. She couldn¡¯t be this oblivious, right? ¡°There are assassins after me, and they might try to strike at you if they can¡¯t get to me. Even if that doesn¡¯t happen, there¡¯s at least two wars going on, and an army could come after us any day now. You¡¯re not safe if you stay.¡±

    Tanya frowned at him. She swung her feet off of the couch and stood up, handing the comb to one of the Goblin servants. ¡°It seems like you are handling that whole situation just fine. I mean, isn¡¯t one of the people you are fighting about to surrender to you today? Just keep doing that and everything will be fine.¡±

    ¡°Tanya, there isn¡¯t even any indoor plumbing here. Don¡¯t you want to go back home where it¡¯s safe and comfortable?¡±

    She shrugged. ¡°It¡¯s not that much better there. I mean, have you seen how most people have to live? I¡¯m pretty sure this room is bigger than my whole apartment back home.¡± She folded her arms and raised an eyebrow. ¡°Besides, you¡¯re already working on the plumbing thing, right? Just hurry it up a little.¡±

    The piercing headache was starting to form between his eyes again. He pinched the bridge of his nose and squeezed his eyes shut for a moment, trying to focus on breathing. ¡°It¡¯s not that simple. Besides, you realize that if you¡¯re here, people will assume we are sleeping together, right? That¡¯s why the Coalition kidnapped you in the first place. Staying here will only make those rumors worse.¡±

    ¡°Oh? Do you want to, then?¡± She laughed a little when his eyes snapped open, and then looked him up and down. ¡°I think you¡¯re going to have to clean up a little before we talk about that anymore, though. Just because you¡¯re a King doesn¡¯t mean you can let yourself go like that and still expect some action. Not from me, at least.¡±

    Matt reflexively looked down at the uniform he was wearing. By the time he looked back up at her, she was already walking off towards her desk. ¡°That¡¯s not¡ªyou can¡¯t just¡ª¡±

    ¡°Listen, I¡¯m not going to try and usurp your throne or whatever. I just want to stay here and enjoy the art and the scenery, okay? It doesn¡¯t have to be that complicated. Besides, have you heard that they have magic here? How could I pass that up?¡±

    She sat down at her desk and stared out the window, apparently forgetting he was there entirely. Matt kept staring at her until the view blurred a little as the burgeoning migraine started to pound away behind his eyes.

    He risked a glance at the servants, who seemed to be torn between being scandalized by the lack of respect in her words, and admiration at how tongue-tied she¡¯d left him. The lifeguards both gave him a sympathetic look that stung somehow.

    Finally, he stomped out of her chambers, heading for the corridor that would take him towards the garrison. He suddenly felt the severe need to smash something, and Sergeant Nikles had been unwise enough to offer another training session that day.

 B2Ch6: Setting a New Course

    Matt sat in the chamber of the Great Council and waited for the messenger to be led in.

    The Frost Elf noblemen had arrived the previous night, too late for the Council to be convened¡ªespecially since just the day before they had finally concluded the treaty with the Western Coalition. For the next five years, at least, there would be no hostilities on the western borders of the Kingdom. It would be a treaty enforced by magic, which was moderately comforting. He knew Grufen, at the very least, would be happy to know that his people were no longer threatened by raiders from the Elves on his flanks.

    Now, however, a trio of Frost Elf nobles was allowed to enter the Great Council. They wore robes that almost seemed to have been woven from the snow still falling outside. It glittered and shone as they strode across the floor, coming to a stop before his throne.

    One of the Frost Elves, a young woman with the same frost lace in her hair that Itrelia had worn during Matt¡¯s coronation, bowed low. ¡°King Matthew, we bring news of the end of the rebellion in Winterfast.¡±

    Matt nodded slowly. He¡¯d already been told that Itrelia hadn¡¯t come with the delegation south. He wondered if Grufen would need to search the north for her, once this new leader of the Frost Elves was firmly in line. ¡°I am glad to hear that our troubles are over, then. You have heard the terms of surrender.¡±

    The woman winced, but she nodded. ¡°We have, sire. Our nobility is already proclaiming the freedom of our serfs, and the land has been set aside for those of our kinsmen who have risen to the status of freeholders. The Clan has nominated me as the next head of our people. My name is Lady Ratallene.¡±

    He inclined his head slightly. ¡°Might I inquire as to what happened to the previous head of the Frost Elves, Lady Ratallene? While it is good to know that the Lady Itrelia is no longer in control of your Clan, her continued freedom might lead some of your people to continue to fight on her behalf.¡±

    Ratallene glanced at the other Frost Elves, one of whom was carrying a small bag. ¡°The Lady Itrelia suffered from a severe lack of foresight and wisdom, my liege. Her continual defiance on the battlefield led to many losses among our kinsmen. When she was finally called to account for her actions, she unfortunately chose to¡­ resist the change in both leadership and direction for our Clan.¡±

    The Elf at her side lifted something out of the bag, and Matt found himself confronting a familiar face. He blinked for a moment, and then nodded. ¡°I see she suffered the price of putting her own glory above that of the Clan.¡±

    ¡°She did, sire.¡± Ratallene gestured, and the Frost Elf put Itrelia¡¯s head back in its container. ¡°I regret that we were unable to bring her to you for trial, but at the very least you can be sure that she will no longer trouble your Kingdom, or your rule.¡±

    Itrelia would also no longer be able to name any names when it came to who her most important supporters were among the Frost Elves, either. Matt would have to keep that in mind as he accepted these people¡¯s loyalty; at least some of them would have continued to back Itrelia no matter what she had done, if it had given them power.

    Of course, those same people would have already been partially crippled by the sudden loss of lands and the independence of their former serfs, to say nothing of the deaths of their armsmen and warriors. Perhaps those losses would convince them to not only tie up loose ends like their former ruler, but also to behave a bit more¡­ circumspectly in the future.

    ¡°Very well.¡± Matt stood, and the members of the Great Council looked down on him in clear expectation. ¡°As they have surrendered and dealt with the traitors among them, I declare that the Frost Elves of Winterfast are no longer in rebellion, and welcome them back to full loyalty in the Kingdom. The prisoners who are being kept in the Tower of Blood will be freed, to fight alongside the comrades they should never have left, and together, our reunited people will prosper.¡±

    He looked around the room. ¡°Does anyone speak out against these announcements?¡±

    No one spoke. After a long moment, Lord Torth rose to his feet. ¡°My liege, I propose we send Magistrates north, along with lifeguards for their protection, so that the Assembly of their freeholders can be secured and any lingering traces of treachery stomped out. Aside from such proposals, I wholeheartedly welcome our brothers and sisters among the Frost Elves back into the Kingdom.¡±

    Matt inclined his head. ¡°Does anyone else second the motion?¡±

    A Goblin and a Red Moon Orc both rose. Matt nodded and then turned back to the Frost Elves. ¡°The Great Council will choose these first emissaries to your homeland. Once they have finished, you may send your own representatives here to participate in the work of guiding the Kingdom. Do you have any questions for us?¡±

    The Frost Elves looked around. Ratallene answered for all of them. ¡°No, sire.¡±

    ¡°Good.¡± Matt smiled. ¡°I will leave the Council to debate the selection of the Magistrates. In the meantime, I would meet with you, Lady Ratallene, so we can discuss the situation of your people. If you would follow me?¡±

    Matt fell into the chair and gestured for Ratallene to take the one across from him. ¡°Come in, Lady Ratallene. Take a seat.¡±

    The Frost Elf hesitated, obviously unhappy about being isolated from her friends. She glanced at the lifeguards brooding in the corners of his study, and then settled into the chair, perching on the very edge of the cushion. Matt noted the tension in her posture and tried to seem a bit more reassuring.

    ¡°First, allow me to thank you for doing what needed to be done to end this conflict. I never felt it was necessary in the first place, and I will be glad to see it over with.¡±

    Ratallene¡¯s eyes narrowed slightly, but she swallowed whatever her initial response would have been. ¡°I am also glad it is over, sire. Our people, unfortunately, have suffered terribly from such an awful mistake on the part of my predecessor.¡±

    Matt leaned back in his chair. He rested his right hand on the desk and slowly tapped it with one finger. ¡°I know that you¡¯ve had grievous losses on the battlefield. Are there other problems I don¡¯t know about?¡±

    She winced at the question. It was possible she was remembering who had caused a good portion of those losses with forces under his personal command. ¡°The losses on the battlefield stung us worse than you know, sire. Most of the Winterknights were either captured or killed. They represented the highest among our nobility. In truth, much of the noble families of Winterfast have now lost many of their numbers; those who remain will take time to replenish their numbers.¡±

    He tilted his head to consider her words. The fact that the losses hit their upper ranks the hardest made sense; Itrelia had loved throwing the Winterknights into combat, and she¡¯d only started out with something close to four banners of them. Even counting the ones who had been taken prisoner, she barely had more than a banner left. ¡°Are there still enough nobility left to govern?¡±

    ¡°Yes, sire. In fact, your¡­distribution of our lands may have helped matters, as those who have inherited from their fallen kin will not need to administrate so much territory as before.¡± Ratallene shook her head. ¡°Though I doubt that many will thank you for it, sire.¡±

    Matt snorted. ¡°Yeah, I don¡¯t think so either.¡± He paused, thinking back over the battles he fought against the Frost Elves. Would they ever really accept him as a King after he¡¯d been responsible for breaking them? How could he reforge them into a functional part of the Kingdom now?

    He shook his head and sighed. ¡°I¡¯ll be sending the prisoners¡ªformer prisoners¡ªnorth as soon as I give them enough supplies. They can escort the Council¡¯s Magistrates to your home, where they¡¯ll hopefully be able to put things in order.¡±

    Ratallene nodded. ¡°Thank you, sire.¡±

    ¡°As soon as they can, they¡¯ll need to march back south.¡± He saw surprise on her face and shook his head again. ¡°Itrelia was not the only one to make mistakes, Lady Ratallene. Now that your people are no longer at war with us, they will need to join us to put a stop to Teblas¡¯ actions. Your warriors will join the rest of the Kingdom¡¯s soldiers to bring peace there.¡±

    Ratallene grimaced and looked away. ¡°It may¡­ take some time, sire. To reorganize, rearm, and reinforce them will take a significant amount of our remaining resources.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m sure the Magistrate will assist you in locating the resources you need.¡± Matt allowed his voice to grow a little cold, and she straightened in her chair again. ¡°I will not try to squeeze blood from a stone, Lady Ratallene, but there are still too many threats to face. If we don¡¯t stop Teblas before spring¡­¡±

    She studied him for a moment. ¡°You are worried about the Alliance.¡±

    ¡°They aren¡¯t as foolish as the Noble Races were, and their army is well funded and supplied. Our own forces have suffered in the recent battles as well, and if we don¡¯t move fast enough, they won¡¯t just settle for invading us.¡± Matt tapped the desk again. ¡°From my understanding, they will want to destroy the whole Kingdom, and leave the rest of us to live in the ashes.¡±

    Ratallene tilted her head to the side, as if copying him. ¡°They will take a very long time to reach the Winterfast, sire.¡±

    He raised his eyebrows. ¡°But they will reach it, unless you help. So unless you want your children to face a catastrophe that you failed to stop, you will become a helpful vassal in truth, Lady Ratallene. Not least because if you stall and delay, the Great Council will not likely be as merciful as I¡¯ve encouraged them to be today.¡±

    She stared back at him, her expression unreadable. Then she inclined her head. ¡°Within five weeks, I will have three banners of skirmishers, and one of Winterknights, ready to march south, sire. More, I cannot promise without risking your displeasure when I fail¡ªbut I will try my best to support you.¡±

    Matt nodded slowly. It was a hard thing to ask a war-torn province to contribute troops so quickly, but he didn¡¯t have that much of a choice. The fact that he¡¯d allowed them to surrender without giving his troops the chance to loot them was already risky enough. ¡°If that is the best you can do, then I accept it, Lady Ratallene. Do not disappoint me.¡±

    She nodded, and he gestured for her to go. The Frost Elf paused and then stood. After a short bow, she walked out of the room, her back unnaturally straight. He was left with his plans, wondering if he could actually depend on them to stay loyal. Time would tell, one way or the other.

    The problem Teblas presented was a tough one.

    On the face of things, it seemed like it would be simple enough to solve. He could just march down to the Sortenmoors with as many troops as he could muster and try to kill the rebel and all of his supporters. Now that he no longer had to worry about attacks from the east and the north, it was far easier and more straightforward to concentrate his forces against the one active threat he needed to worry about. With the treaty securing his western borders, it made even more sense, since the only other enemies he had were going to attack him from the same direction.

    This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

    After all, he¡¯d spent quite a bit of effort to build the Sortenmoors into a trap for Teblas and his armies. Promoting the use of Irregular militia and promising advancement to freeholder status to anyone willing to fight for the Kingdom had raised masses of partisans throughout the region. Those same militia had been busily attacking Teblas¡¯ flanks and supply lines. They¡¯d already achieved more success against the Leaffall Orc leader than Lord Braden, the former leader of the Red Moon Orcs, had managed. Teblas had spent more time chasing the various raiders around than he had securing the actual territory for himself.

    The only downside was that the trap worked both ways. There were just as many militia running around allied to Teblas as there were allied to the Kingdom, and a fairly decent amount that were independent bandits. So many battles had been fought in the Sortenmoors that most of the reports he¡¯d received didn¡¯t even bother trying to keep track of all of them, only focusing on those that caused a notable change in the balance of power.

    Entering the Sortenmoors would be like sticking his own hand into a band saw that he had started up to hurt Teblas. Matt could easily see his own flanks and supply lines being worn away, with banner after banner being lost in the constant warfare. Attempting to secure the Sortenmoors while Teblas was there would be effectively impossible, since the rebel would just counter his actions. Trying to chase down and destroy Teblas before the area was secure would be a bloodbath, even if it was somehow successful.

    All of which would leave his armies softened up and ready for defeat by the time the Alliance of Light invaded that same area in the spring.

    So he needed another option aside from simply rushing into the abattoir with his own forces. One that would persuade Teblas to leave the chaos of the Sortenmoors and allow him to be isolated and destroyed.

    Fortunately, there was an option that would allow Matt to accomplish that task. He saw it clearly as he bent over the maps of the Kingdom, tracing the lines that denoted the various provinces.

    The Sortenmoors were located to the extreme south and west of the Kingdom. The Copper Hills, Teblas¡¯ homeland, was to the south and east, separated from the Sortenmoors by a stretch of barren boglands called the Grim Hollows. When Matt had taken the throne, he¡¯d sent Lord Braden with a sizable force to try to stop Teblas from crossing the Hollows and reaching the Sortenmoors in the first place, an act that could have stopped Teblas¡¯ rebellion before it even really got started.

    Unfortunately, Braden had failed, and Teblas had gotten across the swamps anyway. Fortunately, there was a way to try to replicate the battle, only this time with Matt in command. Perhaps that would result in a different victor.

    He spread his hands over the map, tracing the area north of the Copper Hills, where the rough terrain quickly turned into the broken mountains that his people called the High Peaks. It was the territory of the High Imps, and the mountain range that had kept the Noble Races at bay. Now that the Noble Races were pacified, the border garrisons were far less occupied. He¡¯d only need a moderate amount of guards to guarantee that the tribute from their defeated enemies was not interrupted by an opportunistic bandit or a thieving noble.

    Which meant that there was an opportunity to use the rest of his forces in a far more productive way. Matt smiled, tapping one spot in particular in that area. It was high time for him to visit the High Imp capitol of Ashpeak.

    ¡°You¡¯re sure this is necessary, sire?¡±

    Captain Karve¡¯s voice showed concern, but Matt shrugged. ¡°I know you aren¡¯t comfortable with the responsibility, Captain, but the Margraves are currently busy. Grufen is still helping keep order in Winterfast, and I¡¯ll be needing Morteth in the east. You already had some experience making sure Redspire was kept secure, and I trust you to carry out your duties loyally.¡±

    The Coldhearth Orc shifted on his feet, looking mildly uncomfortable at the praise. ¡°I would have expected you to choose Captain Snolt for this, however. He has fought far more often at your side.¡±

    ¡°Captain Snolt is far more used to raids than he is garrison duty. You are a bit more reliable.¡± Matt was underselling things a little. Snolt outright hated garrison duty, to the point that Matt suspected he would start causing problems if he was left in the capital for too long. Better to rely on the Captain of the Iron Eighth to keep things stable and secure.

    Karve was still looking skeptical, but he seemed a bit more reassured than he had been. ¡°If you are sure, sire.¡± The Orc paused, looking out over the rest of the garrison. It had gotten far less crowded with the departure of their prisoners, but it was still a jumble of banners still in the process of rebuilding themselves. The losses over the course of the campaign against the Noble Races had been harsh for the banners attached to the Redspire garrison, and they were still trying to find and train new recruits to replace the casualties.

    The Captain looked at Matt again, and this time the source of his concerns seemed to have shifted. ¡°Are you sure it is wise for you to go alone, sire? Surely if Captain Snolt isn¡¯t being well-used here, he could give you an escort to Ashpeak.¡±

    Matt hesitated, glancing around. ¡°The lifeguard is capable of protecting me well enough, and there aren¡¯t going to be any armies wandering around in our territory there. Snolt is still healing from his wounds, and the Royal First has already worked hard in the past few weeks. They deserve the time they need to recover so that they can be ready for what we¡¯ll have to do next.¡±

    Karve studied him a moment. ¡°You¡¯re talking about confronting Teblas.¡±

    ¡°Teblas, the Sortenmoors, the Alliance¡­¡± Matt shook his head. ¡°I can¡¯t afford to run my forces too ragged. Take this chance to rest, because there might not be many more chances in the days to come.¡±

    The Orc nodded, his expression thoughtful. ¡°I suppose that reminding you to rest is fruitless, my liege?¡±

    Matt laughed at the wry tone in the captain¡¯s tone. ¡°You¡¯re not wrong, but a King has other duties.¡±

    ¡°Duties that may go ignored if you drive yourself too hard, sire.¡± Karve folded his arms and regarded him with a raised eyebrow. ¡°You were wounded recently, and you¡¯ve ridden and fought as hard as any of us. When will you rest?¡±

    ¡°When my people are safe, and we no longer have to fight just to survive.¡± It sounded like a day that would never come, but Matt shook his head at that fatalistic thought. He¡¯d see it happen or die trying. Gorfeld and the others had put their trust in him. He wasn¡¯t going to let them down.

    Karve was nodding slowly. The Captain¡¯s eyes were steady as he met Matt¡¯s gaze. ¡°We will be ready to march when you need us, sire. I give you my word.¡±

    Matt stuck out a hand. ¡°I know you¡¯ll be ready, Captain. Thank you.¡±

    They shook on it, and Matt turned to head for his next appointment. There was always too much to do, and he had plenty of things to set in motion before he headed out of the capital again.

    Parufeth nodded as Matt finished his explanations. ¡°Sounds about right. We¡¯re getting a bit ahead of schedule, aren¡¯t we?¡±

    Matt nodded with a smile. ¡°Yeah. I wouldn¡¯t want to find that you¡¯d been left idle. I know it is hard to keep up with things during the winter¡­¡±

    ¡°Work keeps us warm, sire.¡± The Gnome foreman grinned. ¡°Besides, it should be interesting enough. The slow filters and these¡­sewers?...you¡¯ve had us building were interesting enough, but the boys and girls have been looking forward to something a bit more dramatic.¡±

    ¡°Well, this should help them out well enough.¡± Matt tapped the drawing he¡¯d laid out in front of the Gnome. It showed a large, rectangular building, one that he had hoped to build fairly close to the castle itself. ¡°Remember, only start on demolition when you are close to being done. Forcing people to move during the winter might be a problem, but the sooner we complete this, the sooner we can work on the rest of our projects.¡±

    Parufeth studied the plans a bit more, his frown becoming a bit more obvious as he traced his hands across the sketches. ¡°I see we¡¯ll be tearing up the street, too. And these are pipes¡­ to hook into the sewers? And the pipes from the Great Cistern?¡±

    Matt grinned. ¡°Yeah. That way, they don¡¯t even have to have a single public latrine. Instead, the latrines are integrated into the building itself¡­¡±

    ¡°Along with a series of private wells, drawn from a group of minor cisterns beneath the street.¡± Parufeth¡¯s fingers traced the diagram of the street, lingering over the grates that were positioned along the gutters. ¡°These are another set of channels. What will they carry?¡±

    ¡°Rainwater and melting snow, mostly.¡± The Gnome looked at Matt with confusion, and Matt smiled. ¡°With the roads all paved, the natural flow of water can become a problem. If you don¡¯t plan for how it will drain to the river, you could get flooding.¡±

    Parufeth made a face. ¡°Urgh, you¡¯re right. Though it seems like it would be easier to just send it down into the sewers. We¡¯re already putting water through those channels, after all.¡±

    ¡°And when there¡¯s a blockage during a storm?¡± Matt watched realization dawn on the Gnome¡¯s face and laughed. ¡°Better to plan ahead than to be swimming in that particular lake, right?¡±

    The Gnome snorted. ¡°I agree, sire.¡± He straightened up, dusting off his grime encrusted hands. ¡°I¡¯m not sure that we¡¯ll be able to reach all of this that quickly, but the workers are doing well. We¡¯re nearly done with the last of the wells, and the channels for the sewers are doing well, too.¡±

    Matt glanced to the side, where a group of the workers were busy at one of the city¡¯s older wells. They were walling it up, sealing it off from the normal groundwater that had filled it before. There wasn¡¯t anything particularly wrong with relying on that water¡ªas long as one was certain that there was only water coming through the ground. The various cesspits scattered through the city sometimes leaked contagion that came through the soil, causing illness. Better to avoid that problem and just rely on the filtered water coming from the filters and the Cistern.

    Of course, it would be even better to just eliminate the cesspits as well. He glanced to the other side and saw workers tearing up the street nearby to dig down beneath it. There was a tunnel there, channeled by Gnomish magic, which is where the brand-new sewers were being built, one channel at a time. It was taking time, but it would be worth the effort in the end.

    ¡°Have there been any disruptions? I think I¡¯ve heard that your workers are happy, but there was also something about a riot?¡±

    Paurfeth winced. ¡°Well, as good as they are, sometimes the workers aren¡¯t as¡­ delicate as I¡¯d like them to be. Sometimes they break a few things while they are shifting all that soil, and that¡¯s not going to win us any friends.¡± The Gnome laughed. ¡°A couple of times we¡¯ve been digging our way under the city and run into a basement or cellar that no one knew about! You can bet the owners weren¡¯t too pleased with seeing us there, either.¡±

    Matt¡¯s eyebrows climbed towards his hair. ¡°Were there any injuries?¡±

    The Gnome waved off his concern. ¡°Please, sire, the boys and girls know how to take care of themselves. Occasionally we get some old totter trying to complain about the noise or the commotion, but even the worst of them aren¡¯t going to pester a full work crew.¡±

    It sounded a bit more reasonable than Matt had learned to expect from people. ¡°You¡¯re saying they haven¡¯t tried anyway?¡±

    Parufeth hesitated and then scratched at the back of his head. ¡°Well, there¡¯s the occasional drunk that gets a bit rough with somebody. The workers are more than willing to set them straight. It really isn¡¯t any trouble at all, sire.¡±

    Troubling. Most of the city seemed to have been happy about the new, purified source of water, but that didn¡¯t mean that everyone was going to continue to be happy about all the changes he was bringing to Redspire. Once the next phase of the project began, he¡¯d be making a lot more of the people unhappy as they were displaced and inconvenienced. How much more disruption would the city take before he started to run into real opposition from the people he was trying to help?

    ¡°Make sure you report any more disruptions to the Assembly of the Low Folk. I want to make sure that they are involved. Maybe they can find a way to resolve things without having more problems.¡± Matt shook his head. Another problem for the pile. Hopefully, another thing that he would be able to deal with once he returned.

    Not everyone was quite so unhappy to see him go, however.

    ¡°You¡¯re leaving?¡± Tanya was lounging at her desk, watching the snowflakes dance past her window. They¡¯d been falling since early that afternoon, which meant he had a rough road ahead of him in the morning. ¡°Does that mean someone else is in charge while you¡¯re away?¡±

    Matt blinked. He¡¯d expected protests or maybe even panic, but not nonchalance. Giving her the ability to speak to the servants had obviously helped more than he had hoped. ¡°No. I¡¯m still King, and the Great Council will be able to handle any problems while I¡¯m away.¡±

    She looked back at him, straightening up in her seat. ¡°That¡¯s interesting. Are you taking that magic tutor? What¡¯s his name, Melred?¡±

    ¡°Melren, and no. He¡¯ll be staying here.¡± The former nobleman might have wanted to visit his homeland, but Matt had noticed that Tanya had been spending a lot of time with the man. Hopefully, he was going to be able to keep her out of trouble while he and his lifeguard were away. ¡°Gorfeld will be here too. If you need anything, you can ask for him to help you.¡±

    ¡°Good.¡± Tanya nodded, looking back at the book she¡¯d been studying. It was covered in arcane scribblings; Matt wasn¡¯t able to see what it was about, not without trying to peer over her shoulder. She¡¯d undoubtedly take offense to that. ¡°When will you be back?¡±

    He frowned. There was something about the way she asked the question that set him on edge. ¡°It shouldn¡¯t be more than a week or so. Maybe ten days if things go really wrong.¡±

    ¡°Okay. I guess this world doesn¡¯t have anything like phones or email.¡± She looked back and tapped a finger against her lips. ¡°Though it does seem like you could just use magic somehow. Or maybe send a messenger? Why do you need to go yourself?¡±

    ¡°I need to talk to one of my military commanders. It¡¯s the kind of thing that it¡¯s important to keep private.¡±

    Her eyebrows went up. ¡°I see. Well, I suppose that makes sense.¡± Then she smiled. ¡°I¡¯ll see you when you get back. Make sure to bring me something nice.¡±

    Matt snorted at the demand. He wasn¡¯t exactly going to Ashpeak on a vacation after all. ¡°I¡¯ll see what I can do.¡± He forced a smile and turned to go. Supposedly, he was King here; why did it seem like everyone kept demanding promises from him lately?

 B2Ch7: A City of Ashes

    They set out early the next morning, while the fallen snow was still fresh on the roads. A blanket of white softened everything, from the rooftops of Redspire to the battlements of the outer walls. The mounts of his lifeguard struggled through the powder regardless, with Nelson forging ahead of the pack. A small crowd of the citizens had gathered to see him off; many of them cheered and shouted, despite the early hour, and Matt waved back at them with his mace.

    It wasn¡¯t the worst way to start the journey east, but the snow made things so much harder that Matt started to regret making the choice to come personally after only a few hours. They were taking the road that had led them out to the battle of Folly¡¯s End, but the snow seemed so much worse now. If he hadn¡¯t been riding Nelson, the snow would have been up to his hip. As it was, the warbuck was having to step high as it made its way forward, occasionally bulldozing through a thicker snowdrift in order to keep making progress.

    The Wargs that some of his lifeguard were riding made better progress, but not by much. Their paws were still heavy enough to break through the crust of the snow, and they were smaller than the warbucks, which meant the snow came up higher on their legs. Matt was quickly grateful for the fact that the previous snowfall had left the sky clear; a bright blue sky and mild sun mocked them as they floundered along the path. An occasional gust of frigid wind did not improve things, especially since it seemed to fling stinging snowdust into his eyes when he least expected it.

    By the end of the first day, he was revising his estimates of their progress. It wasn¡¯t going to be quite as easy a trip; he was probably looking at closer to five days than three to reach the Imp capitol. The only comfort to it was the fact that anyone who wanted to come after him was going to have a terrible time trying to chase him down. Speed just wasn¡¯t going to happen in such poor conditions.

    At the very least, he wasn¡¯t on the journey alone. He had taken twenty of his lifeguard this time, leaving twelve of them behind to guard Tanya and recover from wounds they¡¯d taken. Two of the ones left behind had actually been sick with some kind of cough. He hoped they hadn¡¯t had enough time to spread it to the others before they¡¯d gone, but most of them seemed to be fine so far.

    They camped on the road that first day, settling into a small campsite as darkness fell over the forest surrounding them. It had been tempting to try to light torches or magelights and press forward, but in such awful conditions, it was like asking for an accident of some kind. All it would take is a Warg or warbuck to slip, and then they¡¯d be moving even slower to accommodate the injured.

    The lifeguard had still been kind enough to pack his folding table, and Matt had spent some time going over the mantras and Spell Chants he carried with him. He could feel the Mind portion of his foundation settling into place, day by day. Just a little more time, and he¡¯d have completed his first Source. Then he¡¯d have to see how useful magic could be, after all.

    Of course, it wasn¡¯t just magic he was studying. He¡¯d packed every map he could find of the border between the Copper Hills and the High Peaks. It was a sparsely populated, primeval place, one dominated by glacier-carved ravines and dense forests. There were practically no settlements or strongholds in the area, but there didn¡¯t need to be; a single banner guarding the only bridge over a steep ravine was as good as a fortress. Not ideal for an attacker, going either direction. That terrain was probably one reason Teblas hadn¡¯t tried to go north and hook up with the Nobles Races, instead of pushing west.

    Still, difficult did not mean impossible, and he had to hope there was a way to put pressure on the Leaffalls. He didn¡¯t need a successful invasion. Just one that seemed threatening enough to bring Teblas out of the snake pit where he was currently hiding.

    He spent a couple of hours studying those notes, going back and forth between maps and magic, until fatigue dragged him to his blankets.

    The next two days were more or less the same. As the terrain grew steeper and the mountains closer, Matt continued to lead his lifeguard east. Luckily, the weather held; no further snow seemed ready to drop loads of misery on his small company. There weren¡¯t many travelers along the roads to share the journey, either. It appeared most of the villages in the area remained abandoned, thanks to their evacuations during the invasion of the Noble Races. Matt caught sight of several clusters of burned buildings, places that Hethwellow¡¯s troops had burned during the campaign that had led to Folly¡¯s End. He wondered how many of the inhabitants were gone forever, and how many would return when the weather began to warm.

    Not that there seemed any risk of that change anytime soon. The chill grew worse as they continued east, with the wind beginning to cut straight through his cloak, armor, and the padded clothes beneath it all. Those cold knives of air seemed to make even the hardiest Coldhearth Orc shiver, but the lifeguard continued on their way without complaint. None of them seemed inclined to do much more of anything than study the forest for signs of threat and coax their mounts to greater efforts to stay with him.

    It occurred to him that he didn¡¯t know much about the men and women who had devoted themselves to his protection. He knew they were loyal and discreet; each of them had been carefully selected, and Gorfeld had made sure that none of them were obvious spies from the Council. All the same, he¡¯d never really tried to get to know them before now, possibly because he¡¯d felt it was unhelpful if he had to choose to send them into danger. Would he have been able to use them as bait for the Frost Elves if he had known them better?

    He started to watch them, trying to pick up on their relationships and what they were like. Surely they weren¡¯t all a bunch of grim-faced warriors, right?

    At that point, he started to notice how¡­separate they all were. The Orcs didn¡¯t really talk to the Goblins, the Goblins and the Imps stayed in their own bunches. Those who were Low Folk reacted with barely concealed suspicion to those of the High Clans; the lifeguards from the High Clans seemed to hold their supposed lessers in contempt, despite their martial abilities. Divisions were everywhere among the lifeguard, now that he was looking. At best, they occasionally shared tasks, but outside of that, it seemed almost like they seemed as suspicious of each other as they were of the surrounding terrain.

    It was the kind of behavior that might have been useful for a paranoid dictator, but it was less than good for someone who wanted a team of cooperative, heavily armed soldiers between him and the next threat. They¡¯d be able to catch each other if one of them turned out to be a traitor, but if someone from the outside hit them, they¡¯d work far less well.

    In a way, it was like a microcosm of the entire Kingdom. Red Moons distrusted High Imps, High Imps suspected Goldplains, Goldplains watched Blackleafs, and so on down the line. None of them trusted one another, and all they did was bicker and compete. The Great Council saw some of them make temporary alliances, but if Matt died, who was going to keep them from launching themselves into another civil war over the next leader? How long would they even wait before the next round of revolutions and assassinations would begin?

    Those thoughts drove him into introspection as they settled in for the next camp. His maps didn¡¯t hold his attention, and he lacked the focus to concentrate on the mantras of the Mind. He had taken the throne with the goal of forging a society that could live on without him, without any King. How could he accomplish that without hammering them together as a single society, as a nation instead of a fragmented collection of rivals?

    It was a problem that continued to haunt him as they drew closer to Ashpeak, and the mountains rose before him.

    He still hadn¡¯t landed on a solution, not before the road crested yet another painfully snow-covered hill, and he saw the city of Ashpeak nestled in the cliffs ahead of him.

    Unlike Summerhall, Ashpeak was a far larger and older settlement, a city that had been carved into a step of the mountainside by some ancient tribe now lost to the histories that remained. Where Summerhall had been crushed and layered on top of itself by the need to stay contained within the hillforts and walls, Ashpeak was a place that hinted at glorious days now past, with sweeping ramparts and grand buildings that now seemed to be left vacant. There were close to twenty thousand Imps living in a city of old ruins that could easily have fit five times that many.

    The signs of that forgotten glory still remained everywhere, most especially in the waterfall that cascaded down the side of the city. Some ancient artificer had channeled the flow of the Ashen River down the side of the mountain, convincing it to flow out from a crevasse right next to the city. It leapt and tumbled down the ridges, where it powered gigantic wheels that in turn drove dozens of ancient devices within the city. As Matt approached the ancient, grey stone walls, he could see that the edges had been softened and molded by erosion over thousands of rainfalls. Snow had been cleared from the walltops, but there were far fewer troops patrolling the barrier than he would have expected. How much of the wall was completely undefended because there simply weren¡¯t enough troops to protect it?

    As he and his lifeguard approached the enormous gates, he saw some of the Imps above shouting to one another and pointing in his direction. The gates were open already, and a steady stream of people were passing through them. Matt examined the elaborately forged doors, seeing the evidence of delicate inscriptions that had been worn almost smooth by time.

    An Imp came running from the gates, her face flushed with exertion. ¡°Sire! We were¡­not expecting you¡­to come!¡±

    Matt smiled pleasantly. ¡°I can see that. I trust that Margrave Morteth is still here?¡±

    The Imp nodded, her breath still coming in gasps and pants. ¡°Yes, sire. He is¡­still here.¡±

    ¡°Good. I¡¯d like to speak with him as soon as possible.¡± He paused and glanced around at his lifeguard. ¡°I¡¯d also like a place for me and my companions to stay for a day or two. Would that be possible?¡±

    The question seemed to baffle the woman, and she gaped at him for a few moments before she managed to respond. ¡°I¡­believe so, sire. If you would follow me?¡±

    There were a few chuckles throughout the lifeguard, and he heard a few of them trading jokes at the poor Imp¡¯s expense. Matt could guess that most rulers hadn¡¯t really asked permission for a place to stay, so it was probably extremely odd to do so.

    All the same, it would be interesting to see how the local nobility responded. By not demanding a place, he¡¯d given them the opportunity to compete for his favor a little. Lord Torth¡¯s family might claim the right to house him, seeing that his House had leadership of the High Imps at the moment, but the others might try to lure him away. Others might ignore his request to show their independence, or even hostility towards him.

    Of course, Tek¡¯s former House was probably not going to welcome him with open arms. He¡¯d not only executed their former head, he¡¯d also crippled their power and allowed Lord Torth and House Ndai to usurp their place. House Kerall would probably be one to watch while he was in the city; Suluth wasn¡¯t the only one capable of sending assassins, after all.

    Matt led Nelson and the lifeguards through the gates of Ashpeak, passing through the gatehouse and onto a relatively narrow path that wound its way up the side of the small plateau where the rest of the city was located. He could see guardposts and a second wall curling around the cliff overhead; anyone who breached the first walls would find themselves trying to climb the incline while being assaulted from above the whole way. It was not a small trip, either; Matt was starting to get a picture of why some of his advisors had claimed the defenses around Redspire were nothing particularly special.

    Carts and other travelers passed by them in both directions. The carts entering the city appeared to be weighed down with food or unsmelted ore, with the ones carrying the latter often being driven by Gnomes. Those leaving seemed to be loaded with weapons, armor, or other manufactured goods. He¡¯d known that much of the trade to the city consisted of raw materials to be refined in Impish workshops, but seeing the evidence of the fact leant the city just a bit more importance in his mind. He was suddenly very glad that he hadn¡¯t allowed Hethwellow anywhere near the place. Losing the source of his Kingdom¡¯s weapon production would have made recruitment a nightmare for his armies.

    Eventually, they finally completed their curving climb to the level of the city, and found themselves at a second, far better maintained gatehouse. This one rose high above the road, and there were two sets of doors, one on each side of the small fort. As Matt rode through, he glanced up and saw murderholes, just as there had been at Summerhall, though this time the sides also had firing slits for Imps that carried crossbows.

    Luckily, none of the defenders appeared to have murder on their mind, because he and his lifeguard rode through unmolested. Their guide continued to lead them deeper into the city, weaving her way through the thickening crowds with the confidence of a born native. It appeared the population of the city had packed themselves into a narrow slice of the old buildings rather than spreading out across the ruins; from a certain standpoint it made sense, but Matt wondered how many people were squatting in the ruins of old temples and corroding mansions while supposedly rich merchants crowded together in cramped inns here.

    After several winding streets, the guide led them to a short, sturdy looking building that had been constructed right up against the wall. Matt thought it looked a little like an old, formerly broken tower; he could see a difference between the old, worn stones at the bottom and the newer, less expertly fitted ones at the top. Whatever its history, the place appeared to be part of the garrison, and Morteth¡¯s personal livery was hung from the pole over the door.

    Matt smiled as he led Nelson into the stable beside the place. Imp courtiers streamed forward to take the reins, and although the warbuck snorted and stomped at them, the servants soothed him with the offer of an apple and a dry place to lie down. His lifeguard gave up their mounts as well, though many of them were grumbling under their breath. Several were stealing suspicious looks as the animals were led away, as if they expected an ambush to happen at any moment.

    He sighed at the continuing signs of distrust and led the way into the building. There was something he had come here to do, after all, and it would be better to get it done quickly, before all the nobles started to descend on him.

    Matt found Morteth in the main hall of the garrison building, watching as a pair of High Guard warriors dueled in a cleared space in front of him.

    Unauthorized reproduction: this story has been taken without approval. Report sightings.

    The others in the room were giving the contest a wide berth, and it quickly became clear why. Both Imps were armed with the traditional swordstaffs that all High Guard carried, but that wasn¡¯t the primary danger they posed to both each other and the observers around them. Though the blades flashed and stabbed, the real duel was being fought with far more explosive tools.

    Fire burst from their hands and sword tips, lashing across the space they moved through. Matt winced as one errant shot washed across the floor towards a crowd of servants, but a ring set into the stone shimmered to life, and the fire died out before it crossed the barrier. Another blast nearly reached the ceiling, but something that looked like a dome dispelled the magic before it hit.

    With evidence that the errant magic was being contained, Matt leaned closer to watch the two Imps struggle against each other. They didn¡¯t tend to block very much unless they were fending off an actual physical attack, and even then they preferred to dodge to one side and counterattack instead. Flames missed by the barest of margins, but they did miss, and neither combatant appeared to shy away from the fight as they continued to strike at each other, looking for an opening.

    He remembered, as he watched the display, that the original name for the High Imps had been the Firebloom Clan, a name they still occasionally used to refer to themselves. It was obvious they had earned the name, and the intensity that they all had as they watched the duel told him that the High Guard all took their magic just as seriously as both Morteth and Vumorth had when they marched with him.

    Matt looked around the room and found Vumorth, standing just a short distance from Morteth. The Captain of the High Guard that had been with him at Folly¡¯s End had accompanied Morteth to the east, intending to more or less act as his personal guard while he supervised the eastern border. Neither Imp had reported any problems¡ªthough he did notice that she was wearing a talisman around her neck. It was the equivalent of a marriage ring in Imp culture, if he remembered right, and Matt smiled when he remembered the favor he¡¯d done her. Apparently, the newly ennobled Imp had made an honest Imp out of her as soon as the title came through.

    Morteth looked over and blinked as he recognized Matt. He came to his feet smoothly, and the Imps in the dueling circle suddenly faltered. They separated and went to one knee, their swordstaffs planted butt first in the stone. Their leader spoke in a voice used to calling commands across a battlefield.

    ¡°You have both fought well, and your skills have greatly improved. It appears you have had an additional honor¡ªyou have displayed your skills before our King! Welcome, sire, to Ashpeak.¡±

    Matt stepped forward as a ripple of surprise went through the onlookers. He smiled. ¡°Thank you, Margrave Morteth. I¡¯m sorry to have dropped in unannounced.¡±

    ¡°Nonsense! We ever stand ready to serve you.¡± Morteth bowed, a gesture echoed by every warrior in the rest of the room, except for the lifeguard. His personal escort stayed standing and continued to search the room for threats instead as Morteth straightened. ¡°May I ask why you have come? Is there trouble in the capital?¡±

    Muttering broke out among the Imps, and Matt hurriedly shook his head. The last thing he needed was a rumor spreading that things were falling apart in the middle of the Kingdom. ¡°No, actually, things are going well there. The Noble Races are paying their tribute, the Western Coalition has signed a peace treaty, and the rebels in Winterfast have surrendered. Our Kingdom is prospering against its foes, and I know that a large part of our success is owed to the steadfast guardians who live here.¡±

    The news wasn¡¯t earth-shattering¡ªthere had to have been messengers or bards that had carried the tale ahead of his arrival¡ªbut it was apparently still fresh enough to cause more murmurs to spread through the crowd. This time, they seemed more excited than worried, though, and Matt thought he saw a handful of servants breaking off from huddles to go spread the word.

    Morteth, for his part, seemed to sway a little in shock. He spoke in a near-whisper, barely audible above the rising mutters. ¡°Peace? An actual treaty?¡±

    Matt nodded. ¡°Yes, Margrave, an actual treaty.¡± Then he went on in a slightly louder voice, trying to be heard above the chatter. ¡°Unfortunately, our work is not yet done, and I have work for you and your brave troops to do. Can we speak?¡±

    The question was not really one that Morteth could refuse, but the Imp still shook off his dazed expression and nodded. ¡°Of course, my liege. If you would follow me?¡±

    He gestured for Vumorth and another High Guard Captain to follow him and then led the way out of the main hall. Matt smiled, stalking after them before the crowd could get excited enough to start asking for handshakes. His lifeguard formed an unsmiling wall between him and the rest of the room, but the crowd mostly parted to let him through, anyway. A few quick strides had him catch up to Morteth in the corridor just outside the hall.

    Morteth slowed enough that Matt drew up alongside him easily. The old Imp gave a lifeguard a raised eyebrow when the Orc tried to step between them, and Matt gestured for the guard to fall back. ¡°Thank you, sire. Your arrival is¡­ unexpected.¡±

    ¡°I know, I know.¡± Matt shook his head. ¡°I saw an opportunity to force things to change, and I didn¡¯t want to miss it. Besides, if I had let you know I was coming, then a lot more than you would have been ready and waiting for me. I can¡¯t afford to have assassins catch me on the road, and I can¡¯t get bogged down here either.¡±

    ¡°A good point, but a little warning might have been helpful.¡± Morteth winced. ¡°Aspeth and Forgund have been itching to duel for rank for weeks now, and I was just able to arrange things so that they¡¯d have to avoid crippling each other. It might take some time for me to do that again.¡±

    Matt grimaced. Dueling for rank seemed like a good way to lose promising officers, but there was only so much he could change at once¡ªand the High Imp nobility controlled the High Guard and its traditions, so their word was law. ¡°Sorry about that. Would it help if I intervened?¡±

    ¡°Perhaps. If you could spend a day allowing a few duels, they would leap at the chance to impress you. I could twist their arms into making it all nonlethal, but they wouldn¡¯t fight me on it if it meant they could say they had proved themselves to you.¡±

    It might cost a day, but it seemed like a worthwhile investment. ¡°I¡¯ll see if I can manage that¡ªthough I think they¡¯ll all have plenty of chances to prove themselves soon.¡±

    Morteth exchanged a look with Vumorth and then sighed. The Margrave gave Matt a wry smile. ¡°I was afraid you¡¯d say that, sire. Let¡¯s see what insanity you have planned for us this time.¡±

    Matt finished laying out his idea and waited. Vumorth was staring at him in resigned horror, while the lifeguards that had followed him into the room both looked surprised.

    Morteth, for his part, was still looking down at the map, his brow furrowed in concentration. His lips moved as his eyes darted across the parchment. Matt forced himself to wait for the man to finish thinking it through. He could tell when the Imp made his decision; his expression grew set and his eyes flicked up from the maps to look at Matt squarely. ¡°I¡¯m sorry, sire, but this cannot be done.¡±

    The words were delivered in so serious a voice that Matt didn¡¯t respond immediately. He contained his first reflexively irritated response and kept his tone even. Morteth had earned his title through consistent good decisions; the commander deserved his respect. ¡°Can you tell me why, Margrave?¡±

    For a moment, Morteth exchanged another look with Vumorth. Then he answered in that same voice. ¡°Your plan will have me lead nearly all of the forces along our eastern border towards the Copper Hills. We¡¯d attempt to overwhelm some of their border guards, and then cause enough of a threat to draw Teblas¡¯ attention east. Am I mistaken?¡±

    Matt shook his head. ¡°No. That sounds like what I imagined.¡±

    ¡°There are three problems, sire.¡± Morteth held up three fingers. ¡°First, if we strip the banners from the entire border, we¡¯ll have to leave the caravans that guard the tribute unprotected.¡±

    He broke in at this point. ¡°I had planned to leave at least two banners behind to¡ª¡±

    ¡°You are underestimating the draw of those caravans, sire.¡± Morteth shook his head. ¡°They contain more than enough funds to fuel a bandit lord for years. If there are any would-be rebels among our own people, they¡¯d be able to finance their own campaign of resistance for a similar length of time. Two banners will not be enough¡ªespecially when those same banners might suffer from¡­similar temptations. Do you understand, sire?¡±

    The question brought Matt up short. He thought it over, and then immediately saw that Morteth had the right of it. An ambitious captain might see all that gold and decide it was time to set out for himself. There was no one banner that could be trusted with any of those caravans; Morteth was probably intending to split up the banners in charge of the protection and divide them across several caravans, to make sure that no one could coordinate a heist.

    He should have seen it, but he was having trouble picturing the amount of money being so vulnerable. On Earth, most cash was tied up in ones and zeroes online. The idea of someone being able to steal a government-altering amount of cash seemed impossible to him, but it was clearly the case here. ¡°You¡¯re right, Margrave. I apologize. Please continue.¡±

    Morteth nodded. He reached out to trace the route from Ashpeak to the Copper Hills, a twisting, difficult path filled with ridges, ravines, and mountain passes. ¡°We can still advance on the Copper Hills with some forces. I¡¯d estimate we could spare at least five banners, maybe six. If we are extraordinarily fortunate, I could persuade eight banners to come with me. The next problem would be the route we would follow.¡±

    Matt kept himself from answering. He knew it was a difficult route; that difficulty was why he didn¡¯t expect Morteth to make all that much headway. All he had to do was act as a lure, not take the whole Copper Hills by himself. Still, he owed Morteth his attention, and he waited while the Imp continued.

    ¡°This path is one that a single banner could hold against six for months. Even if we have all eight, we¡¯d still be stalled long before they felt threatened. The rebels know that as well as I do. They won¡¯t be too worried about us; they probably already have a couple of banners stationed along that route, with a few more ready to switch with them for as long as it takes to break us.¡±

    It sounded unpleasantly realistic. ¡°You think they are already in position?¡±

    ¡°I am fairly certain. After all, it is what we¡¯ve done.¡± Morteth tapped a spot along the path, just north of a bridge. ¡°We have a banner of Footmen and High Guard positioned here, and have since the wars started. None of us worried at all that anything would happen to them, even though we knew Teblas could have attacked north instead of west. It was for much the same reasons. If anything, they¡¯d laugh at us for our foolishness.¡±

    Which meant an assault like that would be useless, even for the purpose that Matt had wanted it to serve. He pinched the bridge of his nose for a moment, feeling the premonition of a headache beginning to build behind his eyes. ¡°That¡­ does sound bad. You said there was a third problem?¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s a piece of the second, made a little worse.¡± The Imp stood back from the map and folded his arms. ¡°If by some miracle we do fight our way past those forces, they¡¯ve almost certainly put a backup plan in place. The most likely one is to take down a bridge.¡±

    Matt grunted. ¡°That would keep us from advancing, yes.¡±

    Morteth laughed. ¡°That¡¯s if they take down one we haven¡¯t crossed yet. What if they destroy one behind our forces?¡± Matt froze and then groaned as his general continued. ¡°That¡¯s right, sire. No supplies, no reinforcements, and no retreat. Even worse is if they get both at once. We¡¯d be trapped and starve to death before we ever managed to get out. Marching our troops into that place would be giving the enemy the chance to do all kinds of mischief to us, without ever risking anything serious themselves.¡±

    Try as he might, Matt couldn¡¯t argue against the point. Morteth had been completely right about every one of the problems, and if he had been thinking more clearly, he should have seen them himself.

    Yet even as he recognized the obstacles, something about the situation still stuck with him. There had to be some way to take advantage of the situation and pull Teblas out of position. Without it, there would be a bloodbath almost as bad as what it would take to get his troops into the Copper Hills.

    He stared down at the maps, his mind running over the issues again and again. It seemed like no matter what he came up with, he couldn¡¯t figure out a way past the enemy. Not unless he could find a way to bypass their defenses entirely. The only way to do that would probably be to fly. Either that or¡­

    Matt paused. His eyes narrowed as he stared down at the maps. Then he turned to look back at Morteth. ¡°You said that you could promise me six banners?¡±

    The Margrave¡¯s expression was guarded. He nodded. ¡°At least five. If I had a bit more time, then six is doable.¡±

    Matt nodded. ¡°What if I could promise you at least four more within two weeks? Would you be more confident of your chances?¡±

    Morteth considered it a moment before lowering one of his three fingers. ¡°That might solve one of the problems, sire, but numbers are not our only issue.¡±

    ¡°I understand that.¡± Matt smiled, his idea suddenly starting to fall into place as he thought it over. ¡°What if those additional banners were Hill Guard?¡±

    The Imp frowned. ¡°Hill Guard? You mean the Gnomes?¡± He looked over at Vumorth, his expression uncertain. ¡°They may be decent fighters, but still¡­¡±

    ¡°They are tunneling experts, Morteth. Siege experts. Those mountains and ravines won¡¯t slow them down, not the way it would everyone else. If the enemy drops a bridge, they could build another one with magic. If you need a tunnel, they could burrow one through for you.¡±

    Morteth was still frowning down at the map, but he¡¯d started to nod. ¡°They could be useful, yes, but any bridge they make or tunnel they burrow will still be a chokepoint the enemy can defend. They¡¯ll still be able to stop us cold.¡±

    Matt looked down at the map, and his smile grew. ¡°Not if we attack more than one spot.¡± He traced other paths along the route south, moving through passes he¡¯d thought were too narrow and ravines that seemed too rough before. ¡°If you split your forces, they¡¯ll have to guard more than one place. You could send a banner of Hill Guard and one of your own to three or four different spots. The enemy would have to cover all of them to keep you from advancing, and if they don¡¯t¡­¡±

    ¡°Then we flank the ones that held position, or push far enough to cut them off from their reinforcements.¡± The Imp was still eying the map, but his expression was slowly growing more satisfied. ¡°We¡¯d still have to move slowly, but they couldn¡¯t stop us completely. Bit by bit, we¡¯d push further into their territory.¡±

    ¡°Until they panic or surrender.¡± Matt grinned. Maybe he¡¯d just managed to salvage the thing after all. ¡°Does that seem like something that would work?¡±

    ¡°Only if we can depend on the Gnomes, sire.¡± Vumorth¡¯s words actually surprised Matt; she¡¯d remained almost stubbornly quiet before. ¡°They are hard workers, I¡¯ll admit, but the Hill Guard has never been known for their dedication to the cause of the Kingdom. They may work as sappers or support troops, and they might even be able to build the occasional siege engine, but in a frontline engagement¡­¡±

    She shook her head. ¡°I¡¯m not sure if they would stand and fight. Would our plan still work if they run the moment they face an enemy?¡±

    The other captain, who had also been silent up until now, nodded along with her. Doubt was far stronger on his face than hers, but it was still clear to see despite his obvious reluctance to disagree with his liege lord.

    Matt looked at Vumorth, but he saw a bit more than just one doubtful captain. He was picturing the distrust among his own lifeguard, and the divisions that ran through the entire society of the Kingdom. It was the same problem, and the same weakness. He¡¯d avoided it so far because the same troubles didn¡¯t seem to infect the Crown Guard, which was mostly drawn from the Low Folk. How did he cure it among the nobility?

    Morteth was looking doubtful again. ¡°She¡¯s right, sire. On paper, a banner of Hill Guard is a valuable resource, but to rely on them in combat¡­ I do not know if it would be wise.¡±

    ¡°You say they tend to run, is that right?¡± Matt watched as both Imps nodded. ¡°Can you tell me why they wouldn¡¯t? Why should they have fought for the Crimson Peaks? Or the Reign of Obsidian before that? Or for any of the tyrants that ruled over them since they were conquered? What reason would they have had to lay down their lives for any of them?¡±

    Silence was his only answer. Then Matt continued, trying to sound confident. ¡°It will be different this time. The Gnomes have stayed loyal when they could have rebelled; we have sent others of the Kingdom to guard them from harm, and we have shown them we value their participation. Even more than that, we¡¯ve set most of their people free from serfdom. They will answer the call to arms, and they will help you put an end to the rebellion in the south.¡±

    Vumorth seemed unconvinced. ¡°And if they do not, sire? Their nobles may not even answer the request to join us.¡±

    ¡°Then I will call on the freeholders in their lands to do so in their stead.¡± When both of the Imps blinked in surprise, Matt smiled. ¡°Freeholders have a responsibility to help defend the Kingdom. Banners of Irregulars made up of Gnomes may not have the same power as the Hill Guard, but there should be plenty of freeholders with Earth magic. One way or another, you will have the sappers you need.¡±

    Morteth started to chuckle, and Matt looked at him in surprise. The Margrave shrugged. ¡°Captain Vumorth warned me that you have a tendency to be surprising. I suppose I should have expected something like this from you, sire.¡± He looked back down at the map. ¡°If you can give me those troops within two weeks, then we should be ready to advance when you need us to do so. Lord Teblas would hear of our invasion about a week after that.¡±

    ¡°Which means I¡¯ll have about three weeks to get my own forces in position.¡± Matt smiled. ¡°Not a problem, right?¡±

    As self-assured as he might have sounded, his mind was still roiling with concerns. The fact that he¡¯d nearly bungled this part of the campaign was not exactly filling him with confidence about the rest of his ideas to deal with Teblas. What if he had missed some other problem, and he didn¡¯t have someone like Morteth around to point it out? He needed to find more Margraves; two obviously wasn¡¯t enough.

    He shook his head, trying to clear those doubts away, and smiled up at the Imps. ¡°It looks like we have our plans. Let¡¯s try and get them set into motion. We don¡¯t have much time, after all. Spring is coming.¡±

 B2Ch8: A Treacherous Path

    Unfortunately, a lack of time didn¡¯t mean he could ignore the request that Morteth had asked of him, or that he could just neglect the nobles of Ashpeak. The moment he walked out of the meeting with Morteth and Vumorth, there was an entire line of messengers waiting for him with invitations to visit the various Houses of Ashpeak.

    While he would have loved to send the messengers away and say that he had no time to visit them. If he did that, however, it would guarantee that he would make enemies out of half the nobles in the city, which would only make his plans that much harder to accomplish when they opposed him.

    So instead of doing something useful like studying mantras or even just returning to Redspire, Matt was forced to travel throughout the city, having brief, seemingly meaningless conversations with almost two dozen nobles who only wanted a ¡®moment of his time¡¯ in order to establish their position in the pecking order already present among the High Imps.

    Only two of them really stuck out at all. The first was House Ndai, the nobility that currently led the Clan. They were the House of Lord Torth, Morteth, Melren, and Vumorth, some of whom were his chief supporters. Given their importance, Matt went to their mansion first, where the local House leader received them with genuine enthusiasm. Lord Kuporth was a mostly unmemorable person, except for the fact that the visit to his mansion included an actual feast for both him and the members of his lifeguard. Despite his suspicions about Lord Torth¡¯s ambitions, the Ndai kinsmen seemed intensely enthusiastic about their welcome for him.

    The second noble House was memorable for a different reason. House Kerall was reportedly a shadow of its former self. When he¡¯d killed Tek, he¡¯d apparently given tacit permission for the other High Imp Houses to settle grudges of their own. Either that, or only Tek¡¯s personal power and influence had held that retribution off, and his fall had left the House unexpectedly vulnerable. Whatever the reason, nearly half of the House¡¯s scions had either been killed in ¡®mysterious¡¯ circumstances, or found guilty of various crimes and jailed or fined as a result.

    Needless to say, Matt was tense with expectations as he and his lifeguard approached the old mansion. It was in as grand a place as the center of House Ndai, but it was clear the past few weeks had not gone well for the inhabitants. In comparison to the grounds of House Ndai, the hedges and trees had not been well cared for. He thought he saw one of their servants working to clean words that had been scrawled across one of their walls; another was trying to repair a window that had been broken on the ground floor.

    Those servants he could see all seemed harried, exhausted, or both. When they saw him arrive with his lifeguard, many of them dropped what they were doing and tried to scurry out of sight. It was like they expected him to order the final purge of the House, and didn¡¯t want to be caught in the butchery. Not that Matt could blame them; from what he knew, House Kerall was among the High Imp nobles who had not freed the serfs under their control, and what real loyalty did a slave owe their supposed masters?

    A butler met them at the front doors of the mansion and quietly guided them through the building. The inside of the mansion showed the same level of neglect; it seemed far too empty for such a grand place. Matt walked past enormous paintings of Kerall ancestors, captured in the act of some act of heroism or conquest, while others were immortalized by busts or statues set into alcoves. At least one of those statues wore a crown, so apparently they¡¯d reached the throne at some point or another.

    The servant stopped beside a set of double doors where a pair of Kerall armsmen waited. For a moment, the Imps faced off against his lifeguard. It was an impressive show, since they were outnumbered ten to one, but in the end the guards stood aside and let Matt¡¯s protectors push their way through the doors and precede him into the room.

    There was only a single noble waiting for him, in stark contrast to the other visits Matt had gone to earlier in the day. The Imp rose from his seat at the head of a long, empty table, and bowed as Matt entered, his motions smooth and well-practiced. ¡°Sire, I welcome you to the home of House Kerall.¡±

    Matt nodded to him and gestured for the Imp to rise. ¡°I thank you for the invitation, Lord Penk. I confess I didn¡¯t expect to see you among those who wanted to see me.¡±

    Penk nodded easily. He turned and gestured for Matt to take a seat at the long table. Matt paused for a moment, hating the symbolism of facing this Imp across the wide expanse of the entire table. At the same time, he couldn¡¯t exactly take a close seat, not without putting himself into a subordinate place compared to Penk at the head.

    So, gritting his teeth, he settled in at the other head of the table and watched as Penk sat at the opposite side. The lifeguard settled in around the room, taking up positions near the entrance, the servants¡¯ doors, and the windows. Penk watched them, idly toying with a wineglass, and when he spoke, it was with an elaborate calm which Matt suspected was at least partially pretense. ¡°Was your journey pleasant, sire?¡±

    Matt raised an eyebrow. ¡°No. It was pretty miserable, actually.¡± Then he shrugged. ¡°Still, some things are worth the pain.¡±

    Penk¡®s golden eyes glittered for a moment. ¡°A sentiment I share, sire. Despite the inconvenience, I appreciate you taking the time to visit our fair city. It really is a testament to the accomplishments of our ancestors.¡±

    A servant entered the room, carrying a tray with a pitcher of something and a glass. They paused in surprise and fear when they saw one of the lifeguard waiting so close to them. The Orc looked the Imp over and then gestured for them to continue forward. With a hurried step, they approached the spot where Matt was sitting and set out the glass, filling it from the pitcher. They then retreated from the room.

    Matt picked up the glass and examined it. He could almost feel Penk¡¯s attention sharpen as he swirled the liquid inside. It was a kind of test, of course; the question was whether it would be a lethal one. Poison was a very traditional way of removing inconvenient rulers, and Penk had to be capable of utilizing it. Tek certainly wouldn¡¯t have hesitated, if he had been given the chance in Redspire.

    Would it be in the drink? That would make it easy to catch, simply by testing the stuff still in the pitcher. Then again, the poison could just as easily have been slathered along the inside of the glass itself; it would be much harder to detect that way and give Penk an extra layer of deniability. Either way, taking a drink would be¡ªextremely unwise.

    He looked past the glass, examining the High Imp sitting across from him. Penk had abandoned any pretense of disinterest now, and was watching Matt with obvious curiosity. Would a poisoner be that blatant about their expectations? Or was it simply the new House leader¡¯s first attempt at assassination?

    Matt swirled the glass once more and then smiled. ¡°What is your opinion of the Kingdom, Lord Penk? Do you think we are preparing ourselves well for the spring?¡±

    The question appeared to catch the Imp off guard at first, but he simply sat back. ¡°So far, we do well, sire. The rebels to the north are defeated, as are the invaders from the east. I hear you are likewise planning on dealing with the traitors to the south, and I have every hope that you will be victorious against the Alliance of Light as well.¡±

    Though his response was delivered in an even, neutral tone, there was that glint in Penk¡¯s eyes that hinted at some deeper feeling. Matt decided to probe further. ¡°Not everyone in the Kingdom shares your view, I¡¯m afraid. There are those who feel that we would do better with¡­ different leadership, shall we say.¡±

    Penk¡¯s chin lifted. ¡°Yes. My uncle believed that, and received his just reward, sire.¡±

    Matt tilted his head to the side. He quietly set down the glass on the table. ¡°Sometimes such beliefs run in families. After all, you learn from those you are closest to, do you not?¡±

    The High Imp paused. He took a moment to sip from his own glass. ¡°My father certainly shared my uncle¡¯s view of things. They were both devoted to the honor and achievements of our ancestors. Did you know it was our House that originally helped build Redspire? We ruled there once, before the Red Moon Orcs came and took the throne from us.¡±

    ¡°I did not.¡± It had to have been buried in the history of the place, but it fit well enough from what he knew. The Fireblooms had been dominant in some form or another for hundreds of years.

    ¡°It¡¯s true. Our historians have been agonizingly dedicated to maintaining our knowledge of those times.¡± Penk sighed and sunk back into his seat, his eyes turning to the windows. ¡°My father wished¡ªas my uncle did¡ªfor a return to those days. I hope you did not take his plot personally. He had been planning to overthrow the Red Sorceress before you disposed of her.¡±

    Matt gave him a wry grin. ¡°I see.¡±

    Penk shrugged and straightened up in his seat. ¡°So yes, you could say that such ideas were popular in our House, even after they led to my uncle¡¯s unfortunate end.¡± Then he sighed again. ¡°My father might have been led to such foolishness if he hadn¡¯t suffered that terrible hunting accident.¡±

    The way Penk had said it piqued Matt¡¯s interest. He frowned. ¡°A hunting accident? I hadn¡¯t heard.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m sure your majesty has been rather busy lately.¡± Penk took another sip. ¡°My House has been plagued by such accidents, actually. My older brother died in a duel just a week ago. A slip of the hand when his opponent was casting a spell.¡±

    Matt¡¯s frown deepened. Penk didn¡¯t sound as sad as he should. He seemed more¡ªsardonic somehow, or even sarcastic. ¡°How unfortunate.¡±

    ¡°Yes, quite. Almost as bad as those bandits who killed my other uncle, or those cutpurses who stole my aunt¡¯s life.¡± Penk set his glass aside and laced his fingers together. ¡°They were all quite dedicated to the cause of our House. Of restoring old glories, no matter the cost. Many of them were very unhappy with the death of my dear uncle.¡±

    Matt felt a chill at the words, and a new possibility occurred to him. He¡¯d assumed that the enemies of House Kerall had been taking revenge on the House after Tek¡¯s execution, but if it had been something else¡­ ¡°Their unhappiness could have led them to make similar mistakes as he had.¡±

    Penk grimaced, as if he¡¯d tasted something unpleasant. ¡°A very likely possibility, actually. Some of them were already trying to put such plans into motion when their fortunes turned for the worse.¡± He paused and looked directly into Matt¡¯s eyes, his expression serious. ¡°Though some would say their poor fortune was good luck for the rest of the House. After all, if we became known for disloyalty, even more than we already are, it would make for a poor shield against future accusations of treachery. I doubt even our old and illustrious House would survive much longer after that.¡±

    Just weeks ago, Matt had been a security guard for empty shipping containers. Now he was fairly certain he was sitting across from a nobleman who had murdered members of his own family to keep them from betraying Matt¡¯s reign. What kind of life was this? Who would want this kind of society to continue?

    Still, he forced himself to reach out and take hold of the glass again. ¡°It would take a particularly clear view of the future to see those accidents as good fortune. Even if it was the best thing for your House.¡±

    Penk nodded slowly. ¡°It would. Even then, it would be an unpleasant thing to dwell on.¡± The Imp took up his own glass as well, his eyes now challenging Matt across the table. ¡°But, as you said, some things are worth the pain, are they not?¡±

    They watched one another for a moment longer. Then Matt inclined his head and drank. He tilted his head back and made sure to drain every last drop.

    When he set the glass back on the table, he recognized both respect and relief in Penk¡¯s eyes. The High Imp had drained his own glass, and set it aside with a hand that barely trembled. Matt felt the taste of the drink linger on his tongue, and winced. ¡°An interesting drink, Lord Penk.¡±

    ¡°New tastes are often hard to swallow, sire.¡± Penk smiled, and Matt grinned in recognition of the intentional symbolism. Whoever else this murderer was, he had a bit of style to him, at least. Then Penk¡¯s expression grew more serious. ¡°I¡­ do not know that I can support every new thing that I come across. The lessons of the past speak strongly to me, even if I do not allow them to blind me to reality. Yet I wish you to understand that there will be no more¡­ errors in judgment from House Kerall. Not while I live.¡±

    It was a fair statement, and one that Matt found he could respect. He couldn¡¯t even really judge the nobleman for what he¡¯d done; after all, it wasn¡¯t as if Matt¡¯s own hands were clean, either. So he nodded and smiled again. ¡°Then I wish you a long and prosperous life, Lord Penk. For the good of our Kingdom.¡±

    The visits to the nobility took most of the rest of the day, and a good portion of the next as well. By the time he had made the rounds of the noble mansions, Matt was already feeling a bit worn, but then Morteth invited him to supervise a series of duels. Already regretting the promise he¡¯d made, Matt forced himself to attend.

    Surprisingly, he found himself almost immediately engrossed in the contests. Perhaps it was just the fact that the warriors involved had committed to nonlethal strikes, or maybe it was the ongoing frustration he was facing building his own first Source, but the display of martial action and combat magic was captivating.

    The High Guard warriors were skilled, definitely. They wielded fire and swordstaff with the kind of fluidity that mocked his own clumsy attempts to smash away at things with his mace. Match after match filled the mystic ring with clashing weapons and billowing fire, before ending with one combatant¡¯s weapon held against a throat, or another being knocked clear of the ring by a burst of fire.

    The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.

    As he watched, he noticed his lifeguard was starting to look just as interested in the matches. The barriers that had been present between them started to come down a little as they watched the fights. Some of them appeared to even start quietly rooting for the various contestants, to the point where they were smiling and clapping each other on the shoulder when their favorites won and grumbling together when they lost.

    Matt turned back to watch the contests with a bit more interest. Could this be something he could use on a larger scale? He didn¡¯t want Roman gladiator contests, but¡­ he had to admit they had worked, and for a lot longer than he needed. The Greeks had enjoyed the Olympics before that, and modern society also seemed to use sports as a way to diffuse competition into healthier substitutes. If he could design an alternative, one that wasn¡¯t quite so close to bloodsports, then maybe¡­

    He set the idea aside for a while and tried to analyze how they were using magic. He was within a few days of mastering a few Spell Chants of his own, so he¡¯d need it for the future. Maybe it would make him a bit less of a drawback on the battlefield the next time he fought. Or maybe he¡¯d just accidentally blow himself up and out of the fight, like one unfortunate Imp had just done. Time would tell.

    The weather was clear when they set out for Redspire again. It was still chilly, to the point that it stung his cheeks, but at least no more snow had fallen since their visit.

    Even better, the roads had been cleared somewhat by carts traveling along them, so they were making better time. Nelson, at the very least, seemed far more capable of forging ahead through the mud and snow of the road. It likely helped that they were descending from the highlands instead of climbing them; even with the occasional slippery spot on the descent, it was better than slipping backward or struggling up yet another switchback trail.

    The first two days, they had already traveled most of the way back to Redspire. His lifeguard seemed to be in good humor as they moved, as if they were relieved and excited to be back in the capital. Maybe they felt it was safer there, though the only lifeguards who had died had been killed there. At the very least, Matt was eager to return and start putting his plans into motion. He needed to have Teblas out of the way before spring came, and he had less than six weeks to manage it.

    As if the world had heard him and taken offense, the snow started early on the third day.

    It wasn¡¯t a gentle snowstorm, either. The dark clouds gathered overhead as if swept together by a malicious god. As they continued along the trail, the wind grew colder and more violent, driving bursts of snow from the drifts around them. Very soon, it was hard to see; the sun was hidden behind clouds so thick that it seemed like night had fallen early. Around him, the lifeguards muttered and drew their cloaks tight around themselves, trying to ward off the encroaching chill.

    Matt almost felt a bit of relief when the snow started to fall. His feelings were short-lived, as the snowfall quickly became something close to a blizzard. Thick clumps of snowflakes fell from the sky, driven into a continuous torrent of snow that made it even harder to see. The road beneath Nelson¡¯s hooves became mired with slurry, forcing the group to slow down even further.

    They continued to try to struggle forward, forcing their way closer to Redspire. It seemed fruitless, however, to continue forward while the snow gathered on the road and started to weigh down the branches around them. Matt began to look for a half-decent place to camp; if they could rest for a time, perhaps the storm would pass, and they could make better time back to the city.

    Then, just as he was about to ask for members of the lifeguard to scout for a place to stop, he saw one of the Goblins pause. He frowned at the woman, who was peering through the flurries of snow. Matt studied her for a moment and then spoke up. ¡°What do you see?¡±

    The other lifeguards looked back at him, but the Goblin didn¡¯t even glance at him. ¡°I thought I saw Wargs, sire. They looked like Shadow Hunters.¡±

    Matt felt a chill that had nothing to do with the freezing wind or flying snow. The Shadow Hunters were the personal troops of the Goblin High Clan, the Blackleafs. Most of them were stationed under the command of Lady Einreth, who remained in the Goblin capital of Shadowfen. A small number of banners had come under his direct control and had helped him secure victory against the Noble Races during the battle of Folly¡¯s End.

    There were other Shadow Hunters, however. They had departed his control under the command of Lady Suluth, when she had been sent to try to maintain control of the Sortenmoors. When she had betrayed the Kingdom and murdered Lord Braden, her rival for power, she¡¯d disappeared with the troops that remained to her, which included an unknown number of the Shadow Hunters that had survived up to that point.

    Matt had not ordered his own Shadow Hunters to patrol, and he doubted that Captain Karve would have allowed them to leave the garrison during a storm like this one. There would have been no point to sending them out; there were no enemies left near the capitol, and it might cause casualties among troops that they would need later. Einreth would have even less of a reason to send her Hunters away; the Red Moon scion was hoping to keep the chaos in the Sortenmoors from spilling over into the Darkwoods, and to deter Teblas from invading north. She would need every soldier she could find to do so.

    Which meant the only person who would have a reason to send Shadow Hunters along the road in a snowstorm was Lady Suluth. The same Lady Suluth who had sent some of her best assassins into the castle at Redspire in an attempt to kill him after Einreth had accused her of murdering Braden.

    The same thoughts seemed to pass through the lifeguard as well, and they shifted in their saddles to get their weapons ready. Matt wondered how much good it would do. Shadow Hunters were light missile cavalry, which meant that if they were out in the storm, they were going to try to shoot down Matt and his lifeguard using shortbows. Their tendency to use magical illusions only made them an even worse threat, especially in such poor visibility conditions.

    He felt his heartbeat speed up as he looked around. The only bright side might have been that the snow was reducing their visibility as well; if the Shadow Hunters couldn¡¯t see them well, they¡¯d have to get closer in order to shoot, which meant his lifeguard could have a better chance of countercharging them. Snow would also make it harder for the Shadow Hunters to fire arrows and fade away, as well, which was usually how they worked.

    If the enemy managed to surround him and his guards, it would probably be over. The ones in front would shoot and then run, and while he chased after them, the ones behind would fill him full of arrows. Bunkering down and trying to outlast the volleys of arrow fire probably wasn¡¯t a good option, either. No one knew exactly how many Shadow Hunters Suluth still had, and his twenty lifeguards weren¡¯t going to be able to outlast an entire banner of cavalry archers. They weren¡¯t likely able to run, either. Shadow Hunters rode lighter Wargs than most, which would mean they could run faster and catch him. It would be like a wolfpack hunting down a deer.

    All of which left him only a handful of options, and none of them were very good. Matt grimaced. ¡°All right. Halt. How many of you have illusion magic?¡± The Goblin and two others raised their hands. He nodded. ¡°Good. On my mark, cast your best spells over there between those trees.¡±

    He pointed at a nearby thicket that was barely visible through the snow. ¡°I want two layers to it. The first one is going to show nothing.¡±

    One of the Goblins raised a hand. ¡°Sire, there¡¯s already nothing there.¡±

    ¡°I know, soldier. Just listen.¡± He gestured to the other two Goblins. ¡°You two focus on that illusion. You, with the questions, what¡¯s your name?¡±

    ¡°Malwun, sire.¡±

    ¡°Malwun, I want you to cast a second illusion beneath theirs. That one will show us huddling under the cover of our shields. Try and make it seem like some of us are wounded, too. Do you understand?¡±

    Slightly baffled, the three Goblins nodded. ¡°Who¡¯s the best here at moving silently? No magic, just stealth. Especially through snow.¡±

    An Imp, an Orc, and another Goblin raised their hands. He pointed to each of them. ¡°You guys are going to sneak in close while they are distracted. Try to make sure a path to the south is clear. Hit any sentries that are watching it. Keep things quiet, though. The longer they don¡¯t know you are out there, the better. Best archers?¡± Two Orcs and two Imps. ¡°I want you to pick out some spots in that thicket, over there on the left. When I give the signal, I want you to hit the ones furthest from us. Try to make sure they are real, and aim for any leaders you can see.¡±

    Then he turned to the rest. ¡°For the rest of us, we¡¯re going to need to be ready to charge. Anyone who can use magic to cause bright flashes of light? We¡¯ll need them as soon as the real fighting starts.¡±

    Matt turned and pointed uphill, at a spot where the trees were thick with snow. ¡°We¡¯ll start up there. When you all see the lights, start hitting them. We need to kill as many of them as we can to drive them off. Then we try to make our way south, off the road and lose them in this snow.¡±

    An Orc, a Greenriver warrior that had come from the Spears, raised his hand. ¡°Sire, they¡¯ll still be able to track us. They won¡¯t give up the fight that easily, and they know where we need to go.¡±

    ¡°Which means we¡¯ll know where they will move to try to block us, right?¡± Matt clapped the Orc on the shoulder and tried to project confidence. ¡°They¡¯ll be expecting us to run or to wait for them. We¡¯re not going to do that. Trust me. We¡¯re all getting home today.¡±

    The members of the lifeguard exchanged looks that were hard to read beneath helmets and snow flurries, but they all nodded. They split up, with the two other groups breaking off from the main group as Matt led them up the hill. He suspected that the ones who had left the group were expecting him to just abandon them, but he had no plans to do so. His lifeguard was a unique resource; they¡¯d proven remarkably loyal so far. Wasting their lives wasn¡¯t really an option, not when he had the chance to get all of them out of the trap he¡¯d landed them in.

    Clearly, Karve had been right about the need to use an escort. Suluth wouldn¡¯t have come if it was an entire banner of troops with him¡­but then it would have taken that much longer to move. He shook his head as they reached the hilltop and tried peering through the trees. There were shapes out there, but it was hard to see if they were Wargs or just trees moving with the wind.

    He waited long enough that his other lifeguards should have had the chance to reach their positions. Then he nodded to his three illusionists, hoping that his guess about Suluth¡¯s abilities was correct. ¡°Start.¡±

    The three Goblins began their Spell Chants, and Matt waited and watched the thicket below. It was even harder to see now that they had moved further away, but he thought he could see movement suddenly closing in around it. He heard one of his lifeguard curse, and when he glanced in their direction, they pointed at a spot down below.

    Matt followed the direction of the finger and blinked as he suddenly saw at least a dozen Wargs loping along. They had to be illusions, generated as decoys for the actual Shadow Hunters. Their intention was obvious, though. The false Hunters closed in around the thicket, and suddenly arrows sprouted from the air. They showered over the thicket, and beside him, he heard the two Goblins gasp.

    He glanced at them, and one of them whispered to him. ¡°Someone broke my illusions, sire. It was someone strong.¡±

    ¡°Suluth, probably. She¡¯s out there with them.¡± He tried not to sound like that bothered him, but the fact that she¡¯d come personally was not the best sign. ¡°Malwun, is your illusion still up?¡±

    ¡°Yes, sire.¡± The Goblin was speaking through clenched teeth, and Matt nodded.

    ¡°Keep it up as long as you can, but if you feel anything pushing against you, just let it go. Raise your hand when it happens.¡± She nodded, and he turned to the others. ¡°The moment her hand goes up, I want all of you to throw whatever light spells you have right around that thicket. If any are destructive, try to hit the forces to the west. Then we¡¯re going to head south, right past where the archers are hiding. Ride hard, but don¡¯t say a single thing. Keep your Wargs from howling, or we¡¯re dead. Understand?¡±

    They nodded, and Matt turned his attention back to the false battle being waged below. A flicker of humor nearly made him chuckle. He wondered if the false Hunters or the false lifeguards were showing more wounds at the moment. A more serious thought occurred to him; how many real Hunters were out there, compared to the illusions? There were at least forty of the fakes, but he didn¡¯t know if it was a one to one match. Were any of the illusions he could see duplicates?

    He spent a pointless moment trying to figure that out, and then Malwun¡¯s hand shot up. Matt had barely enough time to turn away and close his eyes before light flooded the darkened skies. Lightning blasted down from above, fire bloomed from below, and the roar of explosions tore across the terrain in a chain headed west. With any luck, Suluth would have been convinced that his lifeguard was headed straight for the city. While she chased that possibility, he would slip out of her grasp.

    Matt led his guards down the slope, careful to slip down the east side of it. He heard howls headed west and grinned. A glance told him the rest of his lifeguard was sticking together as well, moving as quickly as they could down the hill.

    It took an agonizing amount of time to make their way down the hill, across the road, and over to the thicket where the archers were hiding. They hopped down as Matt drew close, their postures briefly surprised. One of them leaned close. ¡°I think we managed to wing at least a couple, sire, but there were a lot of illusions out there.¡±

    ¡°No sign of Suluth?¡± The Imp shook his head, and Matt grimaced. ¡°No worry. That might have needed a bit too much fortune. All right, let¡¯s head south.¡±

    They ran across the remaining three lifeguards a moment later, coming on them as they were trudging through the snow back to their mounts. The Orc among them stepped forward, a broad grin on her face. ¡°Found three of them, sire. They weren¡¯t expecting us, though, just watching the brook. None of them will cause us any trouble now.¡±

    ¡°Well done.¡± Matt grinned. ¡°Now, let¡¯s get past that stream and out of Suluth¡¯s clutches. Then we head west for a while, and then curve north. By the time she realizes what happened, I want to be back on the road and past her. Let¡¯s move.¡±

    If riding through the snow on the road had been hard, riding through the woods had been far, far worse.

    The snow hid roots and holes and even the occasional underbrush, in addition to creating patches of slush that made it excessively easy for hooves or paws to slide out from under a mount. If that wasn¡¯t bad enough, snow was occasionally tumbling from branches overloaded by the storm, half-burying unfortunate soldiers in miniature avalanches. At one point, a branch snapped under the weight and nearly smashed Malwun flat, but she managed to escape without more than snow down the neck of her tunic.

    They continued to forge ahead, fighting through the snow as they turned west. At one point, Matt thought he heard Wargs howling to the north. He pictured Suluth figuring out she¡¯d been deceived, and turning back towards their supposed battlefield to track his guards down. Hoping that he hadn¡¯t lied to himself, Matt signaled for his guards to turn north.

    It took far longer than he liked, but eventually they found the road once more. He thought he heard a sigh of relief run through the lifeguard as they turned west along the path; as choked by mud and snow as it was, it was still infinitely preferable to the terrain without it. Their pace now faster, Matt started them off at a decent clip, hoping that they could build up enough of a head start to slip out of Suluth¡¯s hands entirely.

    As the hours wore on, Matt felt the cold and fatigue seep into his bones. The snow continued to make things more and more difficult, but no one suggested they stop, not even to rest or eat. Even if they had to keep going through the night, it would be better to be cold and tired than to let the Hunters catch them again.

    When the walls of Redspire loomed over him through the snow, Matt wondered if he was simply hallucinating, or if Suluth had somehow conjured the image to taunt him.

    The sun had gone down a long time ago, though it was hard to tell with the clouds continuing to cover the sky. They had been hearing howls behind them, but it was hard to tell whether it was the wind or the Wargs. Either way, they had kept to the road and trusted in their own speed to see them to safety.

    As might have been expected, the gates to the city were closed, but Matt saw torches on top of the walls, and immediately cleared his throat to try to call up to them. His throat felt rough, as if he hadn¡¯t drunk water for a week. ¡°Open the gates for your King!¡±

    Some of the torches on top of the walls abruptly froze. Then they began moving in a frantic burst of activity. Moments later, he saw the gates slide open, albeit at an agonizingly slow pace. Now that he¡¯d finally come to a stop, it was as if the force that had kept him moving was running out. Fatigue crashed in on him, and he wasn¡¯t alone; the lifeguards around him were all slumped in their saddles and shuddering with the cold.

    When the gates were finally open, Matt led the lifeguard through the opening. Half of them nearly collapsed as the gates groaned shut behind them; only a supreme effort of will kept Matt from joining them.

    An Imp, a Goldplain by the skin tone, ran up to him a moment later. ¡°Sire, we weren¡¯t expecting you yet. Why were you out in this storm?¡±

    Matt stared at him dully for a moment and then laughed. ¡°The Lady Suluth decided to give us a bit of a chase. Let the rest of the Crown Guard know that she is in the area; they will need to keep watch to make sure she doesn¡¯t come near the walls. Be careful. My lifeguard and I are going to rest in the castle.¡±

    ¡°Y-yes, sire. I¡¯m sure the Maiden of Art will be overjoyed to see you!¡±

    He continued staring at the Imp for a few more, uncomprehending seconds. ¡°The who?¡±

 B2Ch9: The Maiden of Art

    Morning dawned far too early the next day. Matt made a note to research a spell that could blot out the sun.

    Almost every part of him ached, especially those parts that had been connected to his saddle for the previous twenty-four hours. Matt groaned as he shifted in his bed, throwing an arm over his face in an attempt to block out the light.

    He failed, and decided that if he couldn¡¯t sleep the day away, then the next best thing would be to find out what in the world had happened to Redspire in his absence.

    The guards on the walls had tried to give him some details, but his brain simply had been too tired to keep up with it. A few of the servants had made odd comments as well, but he and his lifeguard had been far too tired to make any sense from it all. Understanding anything aside from how long it would take to collapse into his bed was an utter impossibility.

    Still, thinking back, he remembered a lot of people mentioning a Maiden of Art. He could practically hear the capital letters in the title, which gave him an extremely unpleasant suspicion that Tanya had been up to something during his absence. Hopefully, he¡¯d be able to track down Gorfeld and find out¡ª

    The door to his bedchamber creaked open, and Matt levered himself upright immediately. His armor lay scattered around the room, but his mace was still near to hand. He had it in his hand and was crouched next to his bed in the time it took for the door to finish opening. If the Lady Suluth had decided to finish her job today, she was going to get what was left of her next assassins poured over the wall in a bucket.

    It wasn¡¯t an assassin, however. Instead, he was treated to the sight of Tanya trying to creep into his bedchamber. She was dressed in a blue gown of some kind¡ªit wasn¡¯t the formal dress of the court, and it didn¡¯t match the clothes that she had been wearing when the Western Coalition had given her to him¡ªbut it fit her well and allowed her enough freedom to move. Her attention was fixed on the bed, and her eyes widened suddenly when she registered he wasn¡¯t in it. The moment of surprise when she turned to see him standing beside it with a weapon in his hand was slightly gratifying.

    Less satisfying was the amused smile that spread across her face. She straightened up and folded her arms across her chest. ¡°Well, look what the cat dragged in! You¡¯re awake!¡±

    Matt winced. Her voice wasn¡¯t shrill, but something about it almost immediately started drilling through his skull. The beginnings of a migraine were already gathering between his eyes. ¡°Tanya. What are you doing here?¡±

    ¡°I heard you limped into town last night, so I came to see you. The servants said that you had ridden really hard and might still be asleep. I didn¡¯t wake you, did I? I was trying to be quiet.¡±

    He grunted. ¡°No. I was already up.¡± Feeling a bit sour, he tossed the mace back onto the bed. ¡°I did think you were an assassin, though. You need to knock next time.¡±

    ¡°And miss this view?¡± She looked him up and down, and he was suddenly aware that he was basically in his underwear. He looked around in a vague, uncoordinated panic, and she laughed. ¡°Well, at least I know what I¡¯m missing out on in the mornings. You¡¯ll need to show off a bit better than that for me, though.¡±

    Matt gave her a glare. ¡°I¡¯m not showing off anything, Tanya. You barged in here without knocking.¡± He grabbed the nearest set of pants and started pulling them on. ¡°What happened to my guards, anyway? Are they all down for the count?¡±

    Tanya shrugged, walking a bit further into the room. She seemed a bit preoccupied by the old tapestries that were fastened to the walls. ¡°Oh, there are a couple of them out there. Most of the rest are still sleeping or something, but they insist on keeping at least two in your study at all hours.¡± Then she gave him a wicked grin. ¡°They let me through, though. I can¡¯t imagine why.¡±

    He struggled into the pants and stood up to find a shirt somewhere. The pitiful span of cloth that he¡¯d worn under his armor the night before smelt so awful he didn¡¯t even attempt it. ¡°Tanya, you know what they think our relationship is. You can¡¯t encourage them to think we¡¯re lovers.¡±

    ¡°Oh, how romantic. The King is concerned about my honor.¡± She clasped her hands together and batted her eyelashes at him. Then she rolled her eyes and went back to studying the tapestries. ¡°They can think whatever they want. It¡¯s not like we actually are having any fun together, so what does it matter?¡±

    Matt paused long enough in his search to give her an incredulous look. ¡°Because rumors like that hurt the morale of the people and make them trust me less.¡±

    Tanya rolled her eyes again. ¡°Oh please. Wouldn¡¯t it make you look good to have someone like me paying you attention?¡±

    ¡°No, Tanya, it wouldn¡¯t.¡± He drew in a deep breath and tried to be patient. ¡°The people trust me because they know I am doing things to keep them safe. There¡¯s a prophecy floating around¡ª¡± He very deliberately didn¡¯t mention how it had gotten there. ¡°¡ªthat if I take a Consort, it will leave the people less safe.¡±

    She folded her arms again and sighed, still apparently not listening to him. ¡°Why does that matter?¡±

    ¡°It matters because if the people think I¡¯m selling them out for a frankly mediocre piece of ass, then they might not like me very much!¡± Matt had a sudden, vivid memory of the taste of soap, and a picture of his mother¡¯s enraged face. She hadn¡¯t gotten angry easily, but when she had¡­

    Tanya finally turned to face him, her expression offended. ¡°Mediocre? I¡¯m high class, thank you very much!¡±

    Was she still not taking this seriously? Matt pinched his nose, trying to breathe calmly. ¡°Tanya, it¡¯s important for a King to be respected. Kings that aren¡¯t respected tend to get stabbed. Like a lot. Along with anyone else who was close to them.¡±

    She was still glaring at him, but she was at least paying attention now. Her jaw worked for a moment as if she was grinding her teeth, and then she looked away. ¡°Fine. I¡¯ll try not to pop in unannounced anymore. Are you going to stand around without a shirt, or are you going to finish getting dressed?¡±

    Matt grunted again and started for his wardrobe. He only made it a handful of steps before he stopped, a few remnants of the conversations from the night before coming back to him. ¡°Tanya, are the people in Redspire calling you the Maiden of Art?¡±

    There was a sudden and suspicious silence from Tanya¡¯s end of the room. He turned away from the wardrobe and found her once again studying the tapestries. This time, she was using a lot more intense scrutiny than they seemed to require. ¡°Tanya?¡±

    She answered a bit vaguely, though she had started to blush a little. ¡°I can¡¯t control what people call me.¡±

    ¡°Tanya.¡±

    He put enough emphasis on her name that she glanced at him for a moment. ¡°I¡ªwell¡ªyou have all kinds of titles, so I figured it wouldn¡¯t be bad for me to have one. Is it such a bad name to have?¡±

    Matt felt dread about how this conversation was going to turn out. ¡°Titles usually come from doing things impressive enough to earn them, Tanya. What have you been doing since I¡¯ve been gone?¡±

    ¡°Nothing.¡± She turned away from the tapestry and walked over to the small circular table that held a stack of reports from Gorfeld. Tanya walked around it, tracing the edge of the surface with an idle hand. ¡°Mostly, I¡¯ve just been studying with Melren. Did you know he has a lot of experience teaching people those mantras? I already finished my foundation in Air. It only took me like six days, and I¡¯ve already gotten started on Winter.¡±

    Her attempt at diverting the conversation was all the more infuriating for how much progress she¡¯d made. How in the world had she managed to build up a Source that quickly? Was she just more talented, or was it the fact that she could set aside entire days to practice?

    Matt shoved those questions aside and fixed her with a stare. ¡°And what else, Tanya?¡±

    Tanya paused. Then she grimaced. ¡°Well, while you were gone, a messenger arrived from that place that brought me here. The ones from out west?¡± Matt nodded and gestured for her to continue. He tried not to notice that she had positioned herself with the table between them now. ¡°So they sent a message that said they were ¡®unable to secure the information¡¯ that we needed, and that they were willing to give us some money instead. You know, to make up for things.¡±

    He grimaced. His attempt to blackmail the Coalition had failed, apparently; they weren¡¯t going to help him send Tanya home. Still, the money might help in another way. ¡°How much did they send?¡±

    She hesitated again. ¡°They said it was about twenty-five thousand marks?¡±

    Matt¡¯s jaw dropped. That amount would pay for nearly four months of development projects alone. His problems with the budget would basically disappear almost overnight; at the very least, it would give him almost an extra year to find a way to get around his financial problems. It wasn¡¯t ideal that Tanya would have to stick around for another twenty weeks or so, but at least the Kingdom would be more stable in the meantime.

    Then he realized that Tanya wasn¡¯t looking like she had announced a good thing. In fact, she seemed to be trying to avoid the subject. Suspicion struck him. ¡°Tanya, what aren¡¯t you telling me?¡±

    She shifted on her feet a little. ¡°Well, since they were giving me so much money, I kind of¡­ asked the Great Council to allow me to use it.¡±

    Matt felt a slight chill. ¡°You what?¡±

    Tanya held up her hands defensively. ¡°The Council agreed! They said it sounded like a good plan.¡±

    ¡°What sounded like a good plan?¡± She paused again, and Matt felt his headache returning. ¡°Tanya?¡±

    ¡°You let her start building an art museum?¡±

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    Gorfeld winced at the tone of Matt¡¯s voice, but he still met Matt¡¯s eyes. ¡°You instructed me to help her with whatever she needed, sire.¡±

    Matt stopped himself from shouting, but it took a bit more effort than he wanted to admit. ¡°I expected you to help her learn magic and entertain herself. Maybe even teach her how to ride a Warg or something. I did not expect you to help her spend twenty-five thousand marks on a single construction project.¡±

    His steward didn¡¯t seem impressed by the response. ¡°All she asked of me was to go and address the Great Council, sire. Once she was there, she asked permission to speak, and Lord Torth agreed. When she presented her¡­proposal, the Council agreed to it almost immediately. I did not have any chance to stop it at that point.¡±

    The headache was only getting worse. ¡°Why would they even agree to this? They have to know how fragile our treasury is at this point.¡±

    ¡°Some of them may not believe the problem is as serious as it seems, sire.¡± Gorfeld shrugged. ¡°There are those who recognize the issue, but they often express confidence in your ability to manage things. Others simply believe that we can just increase taxes on the freeholders if we need additional funds.¡±

    ¡°As if additional taxes wouldn¡¯t lead to starvation and rioting.¡± Matt squeezed his eyes shut and tried to massage his temples. ¡°How is she even building this thing, anyway? I¡¯ve already hired a thousand workers to work on the sewers. She didn¡¯t drag Parufeth into this, did she?¡±

    ¡°I believe she tried, sire, but Parufeth and his work crews stayed true to their current contracts.¡± Gorfeld shrugged. ¡°So she offered a contract to bring in more workers and attracted a new company of laborers that way. They have more masons than bricklayers, and she apparently intends to build her museum from stone, not brick. She has already sent for materials from the Small Heights and High Peaks.¡±

    Matt gritted his teeth and tried to look on the bright side. At the very least, they wouldn¡¯t be competing for resources or workers, from the sounds of things. It might even turn out well if she made something that the entire Kingdom could embrace.

    Then a new thought occurred to him. ¡°Where is she building this thing?¡±

    Gorfeld winced again.

    Matt looked over the construction site. His headache had gotten worse, but he tried to force a smile. ¡°It¡­ could be worse.¡±

    He was standing in the street southwest of the castle, on the road that ran more or less parallel to the River Crimson. It was known as the Royal Street, since it stretched straight across the city from the castle to the southwestern gate; in a city with so many twisting paths and crooked intersections, it was almost something of a miracle. Matt had planned to build most of the new buildings in Redspire around that street, using it as the backbone for the reconstruction of the housing and other building projects once the sewage and water systems were done. The street itself had already been partially remade; rough brick now stretched along nearly five hundred meters of it, and pipes from the Cistern and the sewage system were already dug below it.

    The construction site was located on the southeastern side of the street, about four hundred meters past the point where the bricks transitioned to the plain cobblestones he was trying to replace. Buildings were already being torn down in a roughly four hundred by two hundred meter area, and hundreds of workers were pulling away the debris. Carts were waiting to drag it away, pulled by aurochs. He could see some of the passersby occasionally stopping to stare up as yet another wall came down.

    Parufeth took a moment to spit on the ground behind him. ¡°If you say so, sire. If you say so.¡±

    The Gnome had not been happy about the prospect of competition. It didn¡¯t matter that he had already built half the foundations of the city; Parufeth was clearly miffed that he hadn¡¯t been chosen for the Maiden of Art¡¯s grand project. Matt could sympathize with him; it was probably harder to be known as the one building the plumbing of the city while someone else got credit for constructing the crown jewel of the capitol.

    Gorfeld was standing beside them in the street, still shifting from foot to foot as they watched the work go on. The steward had clearly not been happy with anything that had been happening, but he¡¯d also been just as obviously unable to do anything to stop it. Even the Voices had been enthusiastic about the new construction; the Impish stonemasons had been particularly happy to channel business into their own coffers. Jealousy over the Gnomish bricklayers and Red Moon brickmakers had been building for some time, apparently.

    Matt continued to clench his teeth for a moment longer. He idly tapped his mace against his leg, trying to think through the problems and possibilities. ¡°You said there was a riot, Gorfeld?¡±

    The steward looked down at the street. ¡°There was a¡­ disturbance, sire. People were less than happy about needing to relocate on such short notice. Especially in the middle of winter.¡±

    He grimaced as another wall came down. It looked like a wall from a former well-to-do merchant. ¡°Was anyone hurt?¡±

    ¡°Captain Karve deployed the Crown Guard. They were quite¡­ restrained in their response, actually, which might have helped the situation. He attempted to resolve things by offering them temporary housing with the garrison building. The soldiers were also asked to help move their belongings as well, which they are currently keeping in some of the warehouses and granaries. I don¡¯t believe that many arrests were made.¡±

    Parufeth spat again. ¡°It was a disaster, is what it was. My work crews have been getting things thrown at us, and we weren¡¯t even involved! Things are getting ugly now, sire, and they¡¯ll get worse, mark my words.¡±

    Matt gave the Gnome a brief look, and the foreman seemed to get a bit embarrassed. Then he turned his attention back to the unfolding catastrophe.

    Pushing a bunch of people out of their homes in the middle of the winter was the absolute least responsible thing that anyone could have done, especially with the city crowded by the refugees from the villages that had been burned in the east. Prices for food were already high, thanks to the incentives he had offered for lords to free their serfs. Now the prices for rent or housing were skyrocketing as well while people tried to crowd into the remaining available spaces, something that the upper classes of the city were directly responsible for. He couldn¡¯t have asked for a better set of ingredients for a peasant uprising.

    Still, it had already started, so he had no way to stop it. It wasn¡¯t like he could put the houses back, and he had been planning to replace the old structures with new construction. He just had wanted it to happen when the weather was warmer and the people were not necessarily so crammed together in the city. When they would have been unhappy, but somewhat less likely to burn the castle down.

    Matt forced himself to breathe calmly, trying to control his temper. He needed to focus on the positives, not the negatives. ¡°Gorfeld, you did a good job choosing the location. It would have been¡­ worse if she had chosen another spot.¡±

    The steward accepted the compliment without comment, and Matt scrambled for another thing to point out. ¡°Parufeth, will their construction cause any problems for the construction on the street? Or can you continue?¡±

    Parufeth considered it for a moment. He nodded. ¡°We should be fine, sire. Our work on the sewers and the street should be done by spring.¡±

    ¡°If you have any extra time, see if you can create a temporary encampment outside the city. They won¡¯t be able to use it during the winter, but once we start building in the spring, it should at least help us avoid another riot.¡± Another wall came down with a crash, and fragments of wood and stone sprayed everywhere. ¡°Also, make sure that your materials aren¡¯t interrupted. I know the carts might get¡­ lost a little, but I want everyone to work as hard as they can without getting in each other¡¯s¡¯ way.¡±

    The Gnome nodded again, and Matt looked at Gorfeld again. ¡°If any of the Low Folk bring protests or complaints to you, remind them they have Voices for precisely this reason. Girtun and Wokneth should have spoken up if the proposal was against the interests of the freeholders. Perhaps they could choose new Voices, if they feel it was a big enough mistake.¡±

    Gorfeld nodded solemnly, a feeling that Matt could sympathize with. Both Girtun and Wokneth had been loyal allies, but they had definitely messed up this time, and there wasn¡¯t anything he could do to save them from the consequences. Not at this point. The fact that they had probably agreed to the plan out of a misguided trust in someone tied to Matt directly only made the problem worse.

    Ultimately, the people were going to be angry with Matt. They¡¯d only put some of the blame on the Council and the Voices; both institutions were new enough that even the freeholders wouldn¡¯t be used to seeing them as having any authority. The crown was the source of all power, or had been until Matt had started to mess with things. If he wanted to solve things, he¡¯d need to make some kind of personal gesture.

    Unfortunately, his options for that kind of gesture weren¡¯t good. He didn¡¯t exactly have the resources to throw a feast or something; he didn¡¯t have a colosseum either, so the ¡®circus¡¯ part of bread and circus wasn¡¯t possible either. Matt watched yet another wall come down and tried not to see it as a sign of things to come for his Kingdom.

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry, sire, but I¡¯m not sure if we can help with this situation.¡±

    Matt¡¯s headache was in full swing now, so it was already a strain to seem pleasant. Something of the frustration and anger must have shown on his face, because the Gnomes who were sitting in front of him blinked and drew back a little. Their faces became a little pale, and he tried to smooth over his expression again. ¡°May I ask why, Lord Darunmell?¡±

    The Gnome swallowed before he answered. ¡°The members of the Hill Guard are crucial to the defense of the Small Heights. If we removed them, then it would leave us incredibly vulnerable to outside threats.¡±

    He stared at the Gnome for another long pause. Silence was a weapon, and he felt absolutely no shame using it now. ¡°What outside threats, Lord Darunmell?¡±

    Darunmell smiled, an expression that looked strained and patronizing at the same time. ¡°As you know, sire, our land is on the very border of the Kingdom. The Dwarves of the Western Coalition are to our west and north, and the recent rebellion in Winterfast nearly led to our enslavement under the Frost Elves.¡±

    Matt stared at him a moment longer, letting the words hang in the air. ¡°Lord Darunmell, we have recently signed a peace treaty with the Western Coalition. The Dwarves might share your border, but they are unable to attack you in any way without breaking the treaty for the next five years.¡±

    The Gnome blinked, as if he hadn¡¯t anticipated that response. ¡°I¡ªI hadn¡¯t thought of that fact.¡±

    ¡°You were there when the treaty was accepted by the Council, were you not?¡± Matt didn¡¯t give the man the chance to answer the question. ¡°Furthermore, I believe you were all there when the Frost Elves surrendered after their rebellion. They are no longer a threat to your home now, either.¡±

    Darunmell glanced around at the rest of the Gnomes, as if hoping to see signs of support. ¡°There might remain some groups of bandits, however, which remain loyal to the fallen rebels. We would need the help of the Hill Guard to defend us from such problems.¡±

    ¡°Margrave Grufen is handling the issue personally, Lord Darunmell. He has several banners of Westguard and War Knights to help any Gnomish settlements that are endangered by such bandits, and the Council has sent a Magistrate to root out any other support for the rebels. Summerhall is safe, and your people are being sheltered by the forces of the rest of the Kingdom. Now that same Kingdom requires your assistance elsewhere.¡±

    The Gnome¡¯s expression screwed up into a mixture of distaste and reluctance. ¡°Sire, I do not wish to seem ungrateful¡ª¡±

    ¡°Then don¡¯t.¡± Matt leaned forward, staring into Darunmell¡¯s eyes. ¡°The choice you have right now is this one¡ªyou can either send four banners of Hill Guard to serve under Margrave Morteth, or you can immediately prepare eight banners of Gnomish Irregulars to serve in their stead. I assume you need to present that choice to Lord Nuramesh and the rest of the Gnomish nobility, but I will remind you that Voice Cerufeth in Summerhall will be able to weigh in as well. I doubt she will go along with any plan to send freeholders to die where the Hill Guard could serve much better¡ªand if you make a habit of picking fights with your Voice, you deserve what will happen afterwards.¡±

    The Gnomes were staring back at him in shock; perhaps they had expected him to be a bit more diplomatic, but Matt was just about out of patience for the day. He didn¡¯t give them a chance to respond. ¡°I expect to see that message sent immediately, Lord Darunmell. Either that, or I will hear why. You may go.¡±

    Darunmell and the others exchanged looks and then stood. They made their way out of the room, and Gorfeld stepped in just as the last of them went past. The steward studied him for a moment. ¡°Are you sure you do not need to rest, sire?¡±

    Matt glared at him for a moment. Then he gave up the effort and slumped back in his chair. ¡°It sounds like a great idea, but I don¡¯t have the time. There¡¯s too much to do, and if I take too much time to handle it, then¡­¡±

    ¡°You need to survive as well, my liege.¡± Gorfeld looked down at the parchment in his hand and then looked back up. ¡°You still have to meet with the Low Folk today, and the Great Council has also requested your presence as well, but perhaps it would be better to see them tomorrow.¡±

    ¡°And risk insulting either one?¡± Matt shook his head. ¡°No, better to handle it now. I can rest tomorrow, if that¡¯s possible.¡±

    Gorfeld looked as if he wanted to argue, but he sighed instead. ¡°Very well, sire. The Low Folk are here, if you are ready for them.¡±

    Matt braced himself and nodded. ¡°I am. Go ahead and show them in.¡±

 B2Ch10: Shaking the World

    His meeting with the representatives of the Low Folk did not go well.

    By the time he left the meeting¡ªafter having reassured them repeatedly that future projects would be better planned, and that the complaints of the displaced would be heard¡ªMatt was already starting to feel exhausted. The fatigue of the journey was still weighing on him and taking responsibility to resolve a disaster that he hadn¡¯t even been in the city for had just been a grinding experience.

    Visiting the Great Council afterwards wasn¡¯t much better. The nobility were mostly curious about his visit with their fellow nobles, but since he refused to share any of his military plans, they mostly seemed mystified about why he had gone in the first place. His news that Suluth was in the area caused a small stir, but the majority of the Council was Lord Torth preening over the fact that his ruler had made a point of visiting his kinsmen and his homeland.

    Worn to the point of absolute exhaustion, Matt staggered back to the castle and very nearly collapsed in his bed. He only resisted the urge to go to sleep by a sheer effort of will, and even then it was only because of his lingering resentment towards Tanya.

    She had made far too much progress in building her Source; it made a mockery of how much he had struggled to accomplish the same thing. He knew she had more free time than he did, but there was a part of him that flat out refused to allow her to get the advantage of him. The woman had already halfway wrecked his city, but she wasn¡¯t going to learn magic before he did. Not while he had any say about it at all.

    So, driven by the fires of indignation and spite, Matt stumbled back out and into his study. He fished out his pile of mantras and forced his weary eyes to focus on the parchment. When he started, the phrases felt a bit easier to him, though it was possible that he was merely constructing the foundation incorrectly. Melren had been definite about how important it was to approach the first Source correctly; building one in a way that was flawed would undermine every Spell Chant that utilized it. Given how long it had taken him to build this one, it would set him back seasons of progress.

    Matt made absolutely sure that every mantra was said with perfect precision. He felt energy stirring inside him, swirling in a way that almost made him feel warm. In their own way, the mantras were a little soothing. Nobody could interfere with them, and no one could deny him the progress he made. There were no angry freeholders or obstinate nobles. No assassins or uncooperative Maidens to surprise him with yet more troubles. All he had to do was focus, concentrate, and keep working until¡ª

    The moment the final piece of his Source settled into place, Matt felt it ripple through his mind like a shockwave. It was an indescribable feeling; the closest he could come would be to compare it to having lost a limb, only to have it suddenly restored. His mind seemed to open, his fatigue disappearing as if it had never existed. Matt felt refreshed, and everything around him became suddenly, terribly clear.

    Energy flooded through him in a rush, filling him in the wake of that moment of spectacular clarity. His mind flashed back to the moment when he had sworn his oath during the coronation, when the magic of the ceremony had literally lifted him from the floor. He felt a moment of panic as the magic continued to pulse and build inside him. There was something more alive about the power this time, as if it had its own thoughts and intentions. In a panic, he reached out to it, somehow, to try to contain the flow.

    He failed.

    At first, he thought that the movement was inside his own head. The floor moved beneath him, making him stumble as if he had spent too long on a boat in heavy seas. Then a book fell from a nearby bookshelf, followed by another, and he realized it wasn¡¯t just him. He could see the entire room vibrating and shaking, to the point where one of the nearby chairs tipped over with a crash. There were screams and shouts from deeper in the castle, and his racing thoughts finally made the connection. After everything else, there was an actual earthquake happening.

    The door to the study crashed open, and two of his lifeguards stumbled in, obviously struggling to keep their feet. Gorfeld was next, his eyes wide. ¡°Sire! We¡¯re under attack! We need to¡ª¡±

    Matt waved his hands frantically, trying to stay standing. ¡°N-no, i-it¡¯s, i-its¡ª¡±

    Another figure slammed through the doorway, passing the still-stumbling lifeguards and shoving Gorfeld out of the way. Matt had just enough time to register the panic on Melren¡¯s face before the former nobleman slammed into him and knocked him to the ground.

    ¡°Control yourself! You have to be calm! Do it before you bring the castle down on top of us!¡±

    Matt looked up at him, seeing dust fall from the ceiling, and felt panic streaking through his mental clarity. He almost reached out to try to grab hold of the magic again, but something about Melren¡¯s words stopped him. Was it the magic causing this, or was it him?

    So instead of continuing to wrestle with that power, Matt simply released it. It went against everything he wanted to do, every urge to control and bend it to his will, but the instant he let go, the shaking began to calm. He suddenly felt like he could breathe again, as if releasing his hold had suddenly freed up enough of his mind to go on working his lungs. Matt gasped, feeling dusty air fill him, and then coughed hard, hacking and retching while spots filled his vision.

    By the time he was done, the earth had calmed around him. The castle wasn¡¯t shaking, though he still heard distant screams and shouts. Melren was still holding him to the floor, though his expression no longer showed the same desperate panic.

    The lifeguards and Gorfeld were staring at him, though, with expressions that ranged from awed to horrified. His steward recovered first, motioning for the guards to leave the room and check on the rest of the castle. For once, they listened to the Imp, evidently a bit worried about staying in the same room with him.

    Once Matt was done coughing, Melren finally let him up off the floor. The nobleman carefully checked Matt¡¯s eyes and listened to his breathing before he set him back in his seat. Gorfeld left and came back with a cup of water, which Matt used to wash the dust from his throat.

    It was strange. His fatigue was still gone, buried beneath the churning power of his first Source, but there was still a sense of weariness, hovering just outside his perception. The magic was still roaring and expanding within him, making it feel like he¡¯d never feel tired again. When he could finally speak, it was just a whisper. ¡°Melren, what is this?¡±

    ¡°The start of a new journey, sire.¡± Melren¡¯s expression mixed both fear and satisfaction. ¡°Congratulations on completing your first Source.¡±

    ¡°It is something that often happens when someone completes their first Source, sir. Perhaps not as dramatic, of course, but not surprising.¡±

    Matt stared at Melren in shock. It was hours later, with the sun already fairly high in the sky the next day. The nobleman had refused to explain anything further the night before, insisting that Matt needed sleep in spite of the fact that he had what felt like an entire avalanche raging inside him. Gorfeld had eventually agreed, and Matt had gone into his bedchambers resentful and angry, almost determined to stay awake.

    He''d collapsed immediately and slept through half the morning. When he had woken, his steward and advisor were both waiting for him. They had breakfast waiting¡ªhe was incredibly ravenous¡ªand had finally started to answer his questions.

    Matt paused partway through savaging some delicious bacon to stare at Melren. ¡°You knew this would happen?¡±

    Melren shook his head. ¡°No, sire. Most of the time, the effect is fairly benign. For example, when most people create their first Source, they could perhaps do as much as shake a room or light an object on fire. On rare occasions, they have been known to flood a basement or summon a single gust of wind.¡±

    He grimaced. ¡°So I¡¯m guessing that creating an earthquake¡­¡±

    ¡°Would be extremely unusual. It would be a sign of extreme strength and power.¡± Melren smiled carefully; there was a bit of envy in his eyes as he continued. ¡°In fact, I would say that you are likely capable of performing magic that would usually require the efforts of twenty or more normal mages. Were you not already our ruler, you would likely have been drafted as one by someone.¡±

    Gorfeld cleared his voice. ¡°Perhaps that is the reason for the difference in strength, actually.¡± The steward gave Matt a meaningful look. ¡°Most monarchs who rise to the throne are already proficient mages of some sort or another; there has never been a record of one building their first Source after taking the throne. Further, the oath you took during the coronation was¡­ unusual. It might have also contributed to your impressive strength.¡±

    ¡°Ah.¡± Matt took another bite of eggs and considered his situation. The avalanche was still rumbling around in his insides, though the unnatural clarity of mind had faded before he woke up. He didn¡¯t try to grab the energy again, but it felt like he wanted to. When he finished chewing, he swallowed and asked his next question. ¡°All right. How do I avoid doing that again?¡±

    Melren nodded. ¡°Just don¡¯t reach out to the magic without the framework of a Spell. Trying to use the magic without a framework allows it to run wild, especially with such a large amount of strength. It may also be wise to be careful about using Spells too; the power behind each one will be just as magnified as the effect was last night.¡±

    Gorfeld raised an eyebrow. ¡°It may be best for you to practice your spellcraft outside the city, sire. Just in case.¡±

    Matt nodded. ¡°That makes sense to me.¡± Then he arrived at a question that he had been trying to avoid. ¡°How much damage did I cause?¡±

    The two Imps exchanged a look. Gorfeld was the one who answered first. ¡°From what we have heard, there weren¡¯t any deaths. There were many injuries, but most of them were among servants in the castle or in the stables.¡± He paused. ¡°A handful of buildings collapsed, but they were generally poorly constructed to begin with. Everyone inside was saved.¡±

    Melren looked mildly uncomfortable. ¡°There are rumors about the incident, but it appears most of them either believe the event to be natural, or think it was the result of the nobility. Nobody believes that it was you, sire.¡±

    At least, they didn¡¯t believe it yet. Matt shook his head. ¡°Then get the information out there. Better to take responsibility for it than to let rumors and gossip seize control.¡±

    The former nobleman blinked. He seemed uncertain, but he nodded. ¡°If you are sure, sire.¡±

    Gorfeld sighed. ¡°At the very least, the Crown Guard responded well. Captain Karve had the soldiers on the streets immediately after the attack. They already worked on saving people from collapsed buildings, and they¡¯ve worked hard to make sure that all of the freeholders are accounted for and safe.¡±

    Matt blinked. It was the second time in a very short while Karve had proved himself. He¡¯d need to thank the Orc personally the first chance he got. Perhaps it wasn¡¯t quite the push he¡¯d need to give the captain the title of Margrave, but it was starting to get close, especially if the freeholders began to recognize the fact that the officer was standing up for their interests.

    Of course, a more suspicious ruler might have thought that Karve was shoring up support for an attempt to launch a military coup, but Matt wasn¡¯t quite that paranoid. Yet. Besides, Karve would likely have regarded the chance to become King himself with something approaching horror.

    Even if he was some power-hungry warlord, though, the best option would be to reward him with titles and appreciation. Ambitious men who were ignored felt unappreciated; humble men who were ignored tended to be abused and treated with contempt by people who should have known better.

    Decision made, he nodded. ¡°I am going to propose that Captain Karve be given the title Defender of the Realm for his service here in the capital. Any objections?¡±

    The expressions on both Imps¡¯ faces told a fairly interesting story. Melren looked a little shocked and chagrined, as if the possibility of rewarding Karve¡¯s work hadn¡¯t occurred to him. After all, Karve was ¡®merely¡¯ a freeholder, and a member of the Crown Guard at that. Under the previous order of thought, he simply didn¡¯t merit the kind of attention a soldier from the High Clans or nobility would have deserved.

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    Gorfeld, on the other hand, was grinning broadly, as if Matt had done something exceptionally clever. The steward opened his mouth, and then hesitated, glancing at his fellow Imp¡¯s expression. ¡°There might be some reluctance in the Great Council, sire. Such awards have previously been given to, ah, more highly elevated individuals.¡±

    Melren nodded sharply, but he frowned. Then he shook his head. ¡°The Council will definitely be unhappy. After all, only Lords Grufen and Morteth have received that one, and they might consider it a uniquely ¡®noble¡¯ reward.¡± Then Melren grinned as well, though there was a fair amount of self-mockery in the expression. ¡°At the same time, sire, it is your award, not theirs. Further, it is a matter of the military, and the man¡¯s earned the title. He was the one who helped catch Lord Tek when I failed to, wasn¡¯t he?¡±

    Matt nodded, and Melren chuckled a little. ¡°Then I¡¯ve owed him a debt that I still haven¡¯t repaid¡ªand now is as good a time as any. Give it to him, sire, and I can have a private word with any doubters.¡±

    It was Gorfeld who looked a little shocked now, and then he turned to nod at Matt as well. ¡°If the nobles doubt him, the freeholders and serfs will not. They may even begin to join our ranks in greater numbers, if they see the possibility for glory given to one of their own.¡±

    ¡°True enough.¡± Matt paused. ¡°It also helps that the man damn well deserves it, though. I¡¯ll make the announcement today.¡±

    Then he stood, forcing his weary limbs to move. ¡°For now, though, I think it is high time that I found out what this Source will give me. Who wants to see an earthquake that¡¯s not in the middle of the city?¡±

    ¡°Well, this is nice. No pressure at all.¡±

    Gorfeld snorted to himself, and even Melren cracked a smile. The former nobleman spoke in a soothing tone. ¡°Do not worry, my liege. They are just eager to see the results of your hard work. Everyone who knows anything about magic will understand if it doesn¡¯t go according to plan.¡±

    His advisor didn¡¯t say that those expectations did not hold true for the spectators that didn¡¯t understand magic, but Matt tried not to let it bother him. Of course, that was easy to say, but it was a bit harder to believe with an entire audience gathering on the road nearby to see.

    He wasn¡¯t sure how the rumor had spread, but the gossip had flooded through the city almost immediately. By the time he had visited Karve and told him of his newly won title¡ªthe Captain had been appropriately shocked and grateful, to the point where the Orc had almost shed a tear¡ªthere was already a group of people trailing after him as he rode Nelson out of town. They were mostly a mix of low-level nobles and idle merchants who could afford to take the time to rubberneck the King¡¯s magic practice.

    Those onlookers weren¡¯t alone, either. Parufeth had come along, if only to make sure that his King didn¡¯t damage anything else in the city. The Gnome had been muttering under his breath about having to fix some of the pipes after the previous night¡¯s events, which had made Matt grimace. Lord Torth was also coincidentally in attendance, as well as Lord Darunmell.

    Worst of all, however, Tanya was there. She had been glaring at him all day. Apparently, from what Gorfeld had heard, she¡¯d been in the bath when the ¡®event¡¯ had happened, and he assumed that her glaring daggers at him was related to that fact. Either that or she just hadn¡¯t wanted him to finish his Source before she could. He could almost feel her willing him to fail.

    He¡¯d chosen three Spells to work with at first, from the dozen or so that the Gnomes had given him. Each had seemed incredibly useful, though he didn¡¯t know how powerful it would be in practice. There was only one way to figure it out, however, and there was no point in delaying things any further.

    Matt stepped forward into his makeshift testing area. Gorfeld had spoken with Parufeth and found a vacant area some distance from the city¡¯s southern walls, close to where the tailings from their excavations had been piled up and abandoned. The debris from the demolished buildings was lumped into the same spot, forming a small hill of broken stone and frozen dirt off the side of the road.

    He walked over to where a boulder had been rolled. The Gnomes had been forced to lever it up and out of the hole they were digging for the filtration pits; it had taken dozens of laborers quite a long while to get rid of the thing. Matt thought he could see a handful of those same workers in the crowd; at least one of them raised a vengeful fist as he drew close to it.

    When he was within arm¡¯s reach of the stone, Matt stopped and drew in a deep breath. He let it trickle out as he summoned the words of the Spell to his mind. According to Melren, the words weren¡¯t truly important. They only acted as a funnel to draw out and channel the raw power that roiled within him. It was a template to create a controlled effect, rather than the uncontrolled power that had lashed out last night.

    This time, as Matt reached for the Source, he felt the frame of the Spell take shape around him. Instead of fighting and struggling with him, the power of the magic flowed easily and simply into the mystical outline he¡¯d created. As the Spell filled to the brim with power, Matt stuck out his hand and laid it gently on the stone and released the magic.

    He thought he saw a sudden glow under his fingers. Then something flowed out of him in a rush, leaving him breathless. As it left him, the rock cracked, shifted¡­and then slumped. Matt¡¯s eyes widened as the stone just collapsed in on itself, becoming a pile of dust and miniature stone fragments. As he stepped back, he heard shocked gasps from the crowd on the road. At least someone¡ªParufeth, perhaps?¡ªswore out loud.

    Matt could sympathize with them. The Spell had been called the Autumnal Crushing Force. It was used to break up boulders and smash rocks into smaller fragments. He¡¯d been expecting to shatter the thing, or at least crack it in half. Turning it to literal dust and scattering it like so much confetti was way beyond what he¡¯d been hoping for.

    Shaken, he waited until the boulder had finished melting and mixing with the surrounding snow. Then he turned to a sizable pile of dirt. It lay frozen beneath a coating of frost and snow, but it was three times taller than him and far, far wider. The hillock was also his next target.

    The Spell was called the Curious Tunneller¡¯s Burrow and was sometimes used to create temporary tunnels through stubborn dirt or rock. His Gnomish laborers had been making plenty of use of it to dig through the winter-frozen soil. According to most of the texts, a decent mage should be able to create a head-sized hole through about a meter of dirt at a time.

    Matt summoned the framework of the Spell reciting the words from memory. This Spell in particular was one he wanted. Tunnels were constantly important parts of any siege or construction project. Mastering it would be a clear advantage to either effort.

    He finished constructing the Spell and then touched it to his Source. The magic within him was slightly less powerful than before, but the instant the Spell made contact, it once again smashed into the framework with all the force of a runaway boulder. Matt grunted and brought his hands up. With a careful precision that fought against the sheer urgency that he was feeling, Matt unleashed the magic on the hill in front of him.

    A whirling vortex of stone and dirt carved into the hill of debris, drilling through the hill and leaving behind a tunnel as tall as Matt and just as wide. It kept going and going, digging deeper and deeper until all of a sudden daylight appeared and the Spell burst through the opposite side in a geyser of displaced soil. Matt was left staring at a tunnel nearly twenty meters long that had been formed straight through the hill of debris. There was no sign it would collapse either; part of him wondered just how much further it would have gone if the hill had been bigger.

    The stunned silence from the road told him that the onlookers were probably thinking the same thing. He restrained himself from giving them a cocky grin; Tanya was already going to be unhappy, so he didn¡¯t need to make it that much worse. Besides, he had one last Spell to try, and it was one that he¡¯d been looking forward to for a while.

    Matt stepped back from the tunnel and looked over at a pile of debris that had been left behind by the previous couple of days of demolition. There was a light coating of snow over the pile, but most of it was half-buried in the dirt from the previous day¡¯s digging. It would be ideal for the next Spell, Haunted Gnomish Dirt.

    The original Spell was only meant for small constructions, the kind of thing a child would use for a sandcastle. Older mages might use it for small bits of building, to construct models of future buildings or display small sculptures. Given the power of the other two Spells he¡¯d tried, Matt had hopes for something far more impressive.

    Once again, the Spell took shape in his soul, and once again the magic welled up inside the framework in a matter of heartbeats. It seemed even worse this time, straining against the bindings of the Spell like a wild animal unable to accept a leash. Matt gritted his teeth and fought to not panic as it swelled and strained.

    Then, trying to move his hands in as careful and cautious a motion as he could, Matt cast the Spell.

    In front of him, the debris appeared unchanged for a moment. Then it began to shift. The pieces of the pile made of stone or wood tumbled away as the dirt above and below it began to twist and flow. Matt felt his will extend out to the soil, felt it respond to his probing. His thoughts guided it, and before he realized it, a small globe of shifting dirt appeared had gathered in the air in front of him.

    Matt studied it, surprised despite his hopes at how large it was. Then he held out his hands and sent out his thoughts, and the globe began to move.

    First, it fell to the ground and spread out, scattering across the snow. Then it rose in a series of towers and buildings. Depressions formed streets, and a continually moving channel simulated a river. Some of it arced over that dirtflow, creating a solid-looking bridge. Matt molded and shaped it, raising walls and hollowing out gates. He even replicated the mangled wreckage of the buildings knocked down by the earthquake, and by Tanya¡¯s wrecking crews before that.

    In moments, a scaled model of the entirety of Redspire took shape in front of him, complete with slowly moving carts along the simulated streets. Matt watched it for a long moment, trying to make sure it all looked as accurate as he could make it. He could sense the onlookers stepping forward, peering at it, and recognizing the city that most of them called home.

    Then he let the dirt fall and smooth out for another moment. For an instant, he let things settle into a nondescript pool of dirt. He could sense that the onlookers were disappointed.

    He wasn¡¯t done yet, though. Matt reformed the city, but this time, it looked far different. The walls and the river were the same, as was the imposing castle that had given the place its name. Yet those towers weren¡¯t the only buildings stretching towards the sky. All along the Royal Street, new buildings rose in regimented blocks and rows. Tanya¡¯s museum¡ªat least, the plans she¡¯d deigned to share with Parufeth and Gorfeld¡ªrose across the street from them, along with another cluster of buildings. His dreams of a new Garrison for the Crown Guard, a new building for the School of the Speakers. There was a park, and then another building that he meant to hold the Great Council, and another that was meant for the Assembly of Redspire.

    Aimless streets and ramshackle construction were swept away and replaced. The streets and intersections were clean and well planned, and streams of carts traveled roads that were no longer fashioned from cobblestone, but well-laid brick. He heard murmurs from the crowd as they absorbed the changes; Matt could see some of them looking from the model to the city out of the corner of his eye.

    Then, as they watched, he looked to one side, and another model gathered from yet more dirt. This one was a place of hills and ringforts. A city built by Gnomes, always careful and worried. Craftsmen, laborers, and sometimes more, all committed to seeing the Kingdom rise. Summerhall appeared, along with the hills that ringed it and hedged it in. It rose first as he¡¯d seen it. Then he remade it, raising the towers higher, letting the buildings spill out behind the first wall and letting a second outer wall creep into being around the new expansions.

    Parufeth¡¯s indrawn breath told him that the foreman had seen exactly what Matt had intended. A quick glance told him that Darunmell was pale and trembling, staring at a future that he might never have dreamed of on his own. Others in the crowd seemed mystified by it, though there were plenty still examining the changed version of Redspire still hovering in place.

    Lord Torth, however, wasn¡¯t looking at Redspire or Summerhall. The Imp¡¯s eyes were locked on Matt, and there was both a challenge and a hope in the nobleman¡¯s eyes. Matt met that gaze and smiled.

    Then he stretched out the power of his Spell. It was like lifting a heavy weight, and the framework of the Spell was becoming strained, but the power of his Source kept steady. A third city formed, this one on a small plateau carved from a mountainside. Ashpeak, with its ancient walls and empty ruins, next to the grand waterfalls that drove its industry. Matt felt the Spell wearing away and knew he had to work quickly.

    At the same time, he hated the thought of selling his vision short. He focused, and the walls rose a little higher again. Atop the plateau, ruined palaces were restored, and new, shining pillars of stone rose above them. The ancient machinery was repaired and expanded, while the streets of Ashpeak went from lonely, shadowed alleys to busy thoroughfares. Behind him, Melren was murmuring something full of awe and wonder; Torth did not make a sound.

    The vision of all three cities grew and built and expanded¡ªand then it was all too much. Matt felt the framework of the Spell slipping away. It wasn¡¯t the power; his magic roared almost undiminished within him, and his Source remained secure. His practice with the Spell itself was lacking, however, and he knew that if he tried to hold on to it, the magic would slip free.

    So, despite his native stubbornness, Matt let the dirt crumble. All three cities tumbled to pieces in front of him, becoming a collection of stains on the winter snow. He coughed and drew in a shuddering breath, fighting the urge to try to wrestle with the continued power within him. Control. He needed control before he touched it again, and his mind was too tired to provide it.

    Matt heard footsteps crunching through the snow, and he looked over to see Lord Torth standing next to him. The leader of the High Imps was staring at the spot where Ashpeak had been. His expression showed an iron determination. ¡°A fascinating display, sire. Unfortunately, it appears you still have much work to do.¡±

    He threw back his head and laughed. ¡°We all do, Lord Torth. We all do.¡±

    Torth looked back at him and nodded. The crowd hesitated, as if wanting to see if there was more. Most of them started to drift away as he walked back to where Melren and Gorfeld were standing. Parufeth, for his part, was still staring at the spot as if he had been shown a vision of a grand feast, and discovered he was hungry. Darunmell was still standing as if he had seen a ghost; he met Matt¡¯s eyes by accident, and then jerked into motion, heading for Redspire.

    Tanya, for her part, just looked determined. She didn¡¯t wait to speak with him, instead stomping back through the snow towards the castle. Matt made a mental note to get some kind of a mount for her; if he had Nelson, she didn¡¯t need to be walking everywhere.

    Then he turned back to his steward and advisor. ¡°So, how did I do?¡±

    Melren shook himself, as if coming back from a dream. ¡°Better than I could have hoped, sire. Though you do need more practice. With your level of power, the control becomes that much more crucial.¡±

    Matt nodded his agreement, and Gorfeld laughed. ¡°At the very least, sire, I think you will give them all something to talk about. The next few days should be very interesting indeed.¡±

 B2Ch11: An Obvious Trap

    At first, Gorfeld¡¯s prediction seemed to be entirely wrong.

    It was true that the city was awash with rumors about what Matt had done. Evidence of their King¡¯s newfound power did plenty to restore their spirits, though there were plenty that apparently thought he could have been using that power to their advantage more. Those who knew magic were more impressed than those who didn¡¯t; the people of Redspire had always been ruled by masters of some sort of power, after all.

    There was also a sudden burst of messengers, all headed for the four corners of the Kingdom. Matt noted that the ones headed for Ashpeak and Summerhall seemed to be moving faster than the others; he wondered what spin the people behind those messengers would put on events. Hopefully, it would be one that would favor the Kingdom as a whole, rather than encouraging them to continue squabbling.

    After that, however, it seemed as if things grew unsettlingly calm. Construction on both the museum and the sewers progressed at a steady pace; the people of Redspire did their best to recover from the unexpected earthquake that had disrupted their lives. Aside from occasional scuffles that the Guard broke up, there weren¡¯t any more riots or upheavals among the freeholders.

    News filtered back into Redspire from around the rest of the Kingdom. Grufen reported that all was well in Winterfast. The Frost Elves were honoring the terms of their surrender, and the Magistrate was encountering little resistance to their investigation. An Assembly had been held among the newly created freeholders, and a new Voice had been selected, a fact that the remaining nobles of the Elves were learning to work around.

    A messenger from the Small Heights reported the Hill Guard was on the march. In fact, Lord Nuramesh had committed not four, but six banners of the warriors to Morteth¡¯s command. They would march within the week, apparently, and reach Ashpeak a little over a week after that. It would be well ahead of the schedule that he¡¯d set with the Margrave, a fact that gave him no small amount of peace of mind. All he had to do now was get his own forces moving on the way south from Shadowfen, and the trap for Teblas would be complete.

    In the meantime, all he had to do was continue to watch over everything and practice his magic. His daily visits to the debris piles allowed him to refine his control of the Spells the Gnomes had given him, allowing him to direct the energy of the magic more closely. He slowly learned how to shatter rock across a wider area, instead of turning a smaller amount to dust. The tunnels he created could be narrower and longer, or wider and shorter; he even started to learn how to make them twist and curve, though Parufeth still didn¡¯t trust him enough to let him help out with the digs for the sewers.

    Still, it was enough progress that Matt started wondering if he was ready to start working on his next Source. Tanya had retreated to her room, and was apparently stubbornly working away on the mantras, a fact that mildly amused him. Perhaps she had a competitive streak of her own. Either way, she didn¡¯t manage to create any further catastrophes for him while she was isolated, so he was happy enough with the situation.

    It was on the fifth day that his brief period of peace came to an end.

    He had just finished going over the reports on the information he had from the Sortenmoors, where the fighting had ground to a halt for a while. Apparently, recent snows had made moving around the area difficult, and Teblas had withdrawn to a kind of winter camp. Matt didn¡¯t think that news of Morteth¡¯s impending invasion had reached the rebel yet, otherwise Teblas would have already been moving across the Grim Hollows to rescue his homeland. All the same, Matt sent a few orders to have more scouts posted to watch the Orc¡¯s camp. If they started to move east, Matt would need to move a bit earlier than expected as well.

    Just as he started to go over the mantras for the element of Air, he heard a knock at his door. ¡°Come in!¡±

    Gorfeld stepped through the door, nodding to the lifeguards that were flanking the entrance. His steward had a scrap of parchment in his hand as usual, though his expression was far grimmer now than it had been in days. ¡°Sire, we have news from Lady Einreth.¡±

    Matt perked up. Einreth was the deceased Lord Braden¡¯s sister, who had inherited the leadership of the Red Moon Orcs. She had demanded justice for her brother¡¯s murder, and Matt had placed her in command of the half-shattered forces her brother had been leading, which were now stationed at Shadowfen. The city was the capital of the Blackleaf Goblins, and he¡¯d half-suspected that Lady Suluth would try to assassinate Einreth the same way she¡¯d been trying to kill him, if only to give her a chance to lead the Goblins into rebellion.

    The Orc¡¯s reports had not shown any sign of sedition in the city, however. If anything, the Goblins of Shadowfen had been falling all over themselves to provide proof of their loyalty. Einreth had been suspicious of their sincerity, and Matt not blamed her for it. She hadn¡¯t caught any of Suluth¡¯s agents, but Einreth had rebuilt the banners under her command, and was probably the best source of troops for his impending march south.

    He didn¡¯t like the hint that his steward¡¯s expression was giving him, though. ¡°What is it? Did Suluth try something?¡±

    ¡°No, sire.¡± Gorfeld shrugged. ¡°At least, not directly. Apparently, the Lady Einreth has been challenged for the leadership of her Clan. She has to return to Heartlight in order to respond to her opponent, and has requested that you come to Shadowfen to assume direct command of the armies there.¡±

    The trap was so obvious that Matt almost laughed. Instead, he sighed and placed a hand over his eyes. ¡°Do we know if the challenge is genuine?¡±

    ¡°Yes, sire.¡± Gorfeld held up the parchment. ¡°Lady Einreth sent a copy of the statement in her letter. It appears that a Lord Tolreth has decided that her actions are unworthy of the Clan¡¯s leader, and has demanded that she face him in a duel.¡±

    Matt grunted. ¡°I¡¯m assuming that she can¡¯t refuse?¡±

    The expression on Gorfeld¡¯s face grew slightly horrified. ¡°No, sire. In fact, if she does not respond immediately, then the leadership of the Clan will pass to Lord Tolreth and Lady Einreth will be expelled from the Clan entirely. She likely won¡¯t even wait for your response before she sets out for Heartlight.¡±

    A tidy little snare set especially for him. If Matt had to place a bet, he would guess that Lady Suluth was already waiting for him on the road to Shadowfen. Even if she wasn¡¯t, there almost had to be assassins waiting in Heartlight for Einreth and in Shadowfen itself for him. He didn¡¯t know if Suluth would actually try to seize Shadowfen without killing one or both of her targets; the troops in Shadowfen still had plenty of Red Moon Orcs with them, and they wouldn¡¯t follow a traitor that had killed their previous leader.

    At least, they wouldn¡¯t do that unless there was a new leader of the Red Moons telling them to do so.

    Matt thought over the various possibilities, and then nodded. ¡°All right. We¡¯ll need to move fast. Send a message to the garrison. I want Captain Karve to get three banners of Spears and two of Footmen ready to move. I also want Captain Snolt to prepare his banner and both banners of Shadow Hunters ready to move. The rest of the garrison also needs to mobilize, but they don¡¯t need to move for a few more days.¡±

    Gorfeld nodded, his eyes worried. ¡°Yes, sire.¡±

    ¡°Send a message to Grufen as well. Have him send the Irregular banners back to Redspire. We¡¯ll need them to watch the city while most of the Crown Guard is headed south.¡± Matt grimaced. ¡°I probably should have asked for them sooner, but I thought I had at least a few days more time.¡±

    ¡°So you¡¯ll be going to Shadowfen now, sire?¡± Gorfeld¡¯s voice carried the same concern as his eyes.

    ¡°No.¡± Matt smiled at Gorfeld¡¯s sudden confusion. ¡°Karve is going to Shadowfen, with orders to take command of the troops there when he arrives. I¡¯m taking the Wargs and heading to Heartlight. Send a messenger in that direction as well. I want to claim the right to supervise the duel, the way I did in Ashpeak.¡±

    Gorfeld stared at him, his eyes wide. ¡°That will mean the duel cannot take place before you arrive.¡±

    ¡°Yeah. It¡¯ll also mean that whatever tricks Suluth and this Lord Tolreth are trying to pull, they¡¯ll have to do it with me watching them.¡± Matt grinned. ¡°It¡¯ll also give Karve some more opportunities to show his diplomatic skills. Plus, if Suluth is waiting for me on the road¡­¡±

    ¡°She¡¯ll end up charging into five banners of Crown Guard, all of whom are waiting for her.¡± There was a sudden satisfaction in Gorfeld¡¯s expression. The steward had always seemed to dislike the former leader of the Blackleafs, and he¡¯d taken special offense at her attempt on Matt¡¯s life. ¡°I imagine that will be quite a surprise, my liege.¡±

    ¡°Hopefully it will be enough of one to finally put a stop to her schemes.¡± He doubted it. The Shadow Hunters with her should be more than agile enough to avoid his foot soldiers, and she¡¯d probably figure out that he hadn¡¯t been fooled quickly enough to try to adjust her plans. Matt just hoped that he¡¯d be able to continue to counter them until he was able to arrange a trap for her in turn.

    Tanya found him later that day, as he was talking with the grooms in charge of Nelson.

    The warbuck had apparently been shaken by the earthquake a few days earlier, but was recovering nicely. His chief groom, an Orc named Withar, hadn¡¯t fared quite as well. Matt winced whenever he looked at the man¡¯s sling, but Withar appeared to not hold the injury against him. ¡°I¡¯ve had worse, sire. Don¡¯t trouble yourself over it.¡±

    Matt was still looking over Nelson, checking for signs that the massive animal had been injured, when he heard Tanya clear her throat outside the stall. He looked over to find her glaring at him as if he¡¯d just insulted her parents somehow. ¡°Tanya. Something I can help you with?¡±

    She practically snarled at him. ¡°You¡¯re leaving. Again.¡±

    ¡°Yep. Something I have to do sometimes.¡± He gave her a wry smile. ¡°Though I didn¡¯t know you would miss me so much while I was gone.¡±

    ¡°I wouldn¡¯t.¡± Tanya took a step forward, only for Nelson to shake his massive antlers at her. She stopped in place, her eyes widening. Then they narrowed again with renewed fury. ¡°You told the Council that you needed to supervise any proposals before I could present them.¡±

    ¡°I suggested it, yes.¡± Matt was still grinning as he turned back to Nelson and started soothing the beast back to calm. Nelson was excitable sometimes; an angry human woman was probably not something the warbuck encountered on the regular.

    ¡°Who gives you the right to tell me who I can and can¡¯t speak to?¡± Her fists clenched like she wanted to take a swing at him, but she kept her distance. Matt was starting to get the idea that he should always try to talk to her with Nelson present.

    ¡°I¡¯m the King. It kind of comes with the territory.¡± Matt gave her a level look. ¡°Care to share what the Maiden of Art was going to propose while I was gone? It certainly wouldn¡¯t have involved spending a literal fortune on something, using your connection to me as leverage, right?¡±

    Tanya glared back at him, still fuming. He chuckled to himself and went back to brushing Nelson, momentarily secure in his invulnerability.

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    He¡¯d very nearly forgotten that she was there until she spoke up again. This time, the anger was buried deep. ¡°So, where are you going, anyway?¡±

    Matt glanced at her. Her expression was still a little frustrated, but she seemed like she had reined her temper in at least a bit. ¡°A place called Heartlight. It¡¯s the capital of the Red Moon Orcs. They¡¯re a pretty important part of the Kingdom, and there¡¯s some trouble going on with them. I need to make sure they are okay before I march south.¡±

    ¡°How long are you planning on being gone this time? You said a week or so last time, but it was longer.¡±

    He gave her another glance, wondering if she was trying to see how much time she¡¯d have to work around the restriction for the Council. She wasn¡¯t going to have much success; he¡¯d had a very pointed conversation with the Voices as well about blindly following ideas that seemed to come from the throne. It was a good lesson to learn early; Tanya wasn¡¯t the only one that might try to use his name for a project that didn¡¯t have his actual support. If she tried something, he¡¯d hopefully be able to count on Girtun and Wokneth to block it.

    ¡°I¡¯ll be gone for a while longer this time. Probably three or four weeks.¡± It would take at least a few days to handle Suluth¡¯s plots, and by then, he¡¯d need to get his army into the Grim Hollows. Hopefully Teblas wouldn¡¯t spend the rest of the winter sitting in the Sortenmoors, but if he did, Matt had other options to put an end to the rebellion.

    ¡°That¡¯s a pretty long time. Who knows how much magic I¡¯ll know by then?¡± She smiled. ¡°I finished my Winter foundation the other day. I¡¯m betting I¡¯m done with the Mind part in not much longer.¡±

    Matt grunted sourly. ¡°Good for you. I¡¯m happy you are keeping busy.¡± At least, he was happy she wasn¡¯t causing any more trouble for him.

    ¡°Still, it¡¯s hard to keep focusing on things when all I do is sit inside.¡± Her voice turned contemplative. ¡°Maybe I should take a trip to another spot. Might do me some good to travel a little.¡±

    He froze. It took a lot of effort not to growl his next words. ¡°You are not coming with us to Heartlight.¡±

    Tanya grinned, as if pleased that she finally got the reaction she¡¯d wanted. ¡°And why not? It sounds like a wonderful place.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s the capital of a bunch of Orcs that choose their leaders with duels to the death. There¡¯s probably half a dozen assassins waiting for us when we get there.¡± Matt forced himself to draw in a calming breath. ¡°It isn¡¯t safe for you to come with us. Maybe another time.¡±

    ¡°Oh please. If there is anything dangerous, they¡¯ll be after you, not me, right?¡± Tanya shrugged casually. ¡°I¡¯m just some chick you¡¯re supposedly banging on the side. What would they have to gain by killing me?¡±

    He glared at her. ¡°And if they decide to kidnap you and hold you hostage instead?¡±

    Tanya raised an eyebrow. ¡°Are you saying you wouldn¡¯t come to the rescue?¡±

    The fact that he would have to do exactly that was almost as irritating as her assuming he would. It wasn¡¯t even about how he felt; a King who let someone from his household get taken and maybe killed didn¡¯t exactly tend to have a lot of respect. ¡°The point is, if you stay here, I wouldn¡¯t have to worry about it at all. Which means it would be safer for everyone.¡±

    ¡°Why, because they wouldn¡¯t come after me here, while you and most of your little guards are gone?¡± She pointed at him. ¡°They are just as likely to take me here as there, and if I¡¯m close to you, at least you could maybe help me. Otherwise, I¡¯ll just have to sit around in some dungeon somewhere waiting for you to even hear that I was taken.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re assuming that I wouldn¡¯t just leave you there anyway.¡± Matt heard Withar snort and glanced at the Orc. The groom was trying to hide his grin, but he wasn¡¯t nearly as successful as he needed to be. He looked back at Tanya, who was trying to decide who she wanted to glare at more. ¡°Look, can you even ride a mount? We aren¡¯t exactly going to be walking there.¡±

    She looked a bit baffled for a moment, and then folded her arms. ¡°I can learn. You aren¡¯t leaving right now, anyway.¡±

    Matt gave her a considering look. Something told him that if he told her no, she¡¯d find some way to make him regret it. She might even try to leave the city on her own, which might put the guards in the awkward position of having to lock her up. Not the best look for someone who was trying to avoid the reputation of being a power hungry tyrant. Especially since she nominally had the same rights as any freeholder, which included the ability to go where she wanted.

    ¡°Fine. If you can manage to learn to ride before we leave, then you can come. Otherwise, you stay here.¡± He held up a hand as she started to protest. ¡°We¡¯ll have to move fast, and we can¡¯t afford to hang around waiting for you. Unless you¡¯d rather ride with me on Nelson here?¡±

    Tanya looked at the warbuck, obviously not enamored with that idea. Then her jaw clenched. ¡°Fine.¡± She stalked off, looking into the other stalls for the stable. Matt watched her for a moment and tried not to laugh when she jumped after a Warg barked at her for bothering it. He heard Withar snort again and looked back at the groom.

    The Orc was shaking his head. ¡°Your¡­guest is certainly interesting, sire.¡±

    Matt sighed. ¡°I suppose you¡¯re right, Withar.¡± He looked back to Tanya, who was now keeping a healthy distance between her and each of the stalls she peeked into. ¡°What do you think her odds are?¡±

    Withar coughed politely into his hand. ¡°Your pardon, sire, but I don¡¯t know if I would wager either way. My sister has a somewhat¡­similar temperament. It isn¡¯t often that she gives up on something.¡±

    ¡°Then let¡¯s hope someone gives mercy to whatever poor thing she decides to ride.¡± Matt tried to ignore Withar¡¯s snort of laughter and went back to brushing Nelson. At least the warbuck didn¡¯t seem to have any particular opinions on the Maiden. Everyone else seemed far too amused by the situation. He couldn¡¯t wait until the mages finally figured out a way to send her home.

    It took two days for his soldiers to get ready to leave.

    Matt didn¡¯t see much of Tanya during that time, a fact that he put down as a reward for his good deeds. Instead of worrying about her, he continued to practice his magic, and wrote instructions for Parufeth and Gorfeld to follow in his absence. The sewage systems were already taking shape, but they¡¯d probably require at least three more weeks of work to finish, if everything went perfectly. In case things did go that well, he wanted his workers to get ready for the next stage of his projects.

    While Parufeth got all the plans he needed to keep him busy through the end of the season, Gorfeld received the instructions for the deployment of his troops. There were far too many pieces moving on the board at the moment; the Hill Guard had just started their march to Ashpeak, and unless he missed his guess, the Irregulars would already be in motion towards Redspire as well. Even the Frost Elves might be in motion, though he had lost track of where their timeline was now. He told Gorfeld to keep them moving no matter what; the Hill Guard was to join Morteth, the Irregulars were to head to Shadowfen, along with the Elves, if they made it.

    In the absence of Karve and Snolt, Matt left Captain Creps in command of the garrison. The Imp had accepted the responsibility with a hint of bitterness, likely due to being left behind again. Matt emphasized they were to stay in Redspire and send the Irregulars to join the forces at Shadowfen, something that only seemed to make Creps even more sour. Perhaps he was jealous of the honor being paid to Karve lately; Matt only hoped the feeling would drive him to work harder rather than trying to sabotage his fellow captain.

    With the city arranged well, Matt rode out to join the rest of the cavalry. At that point, he was confronted with a sight that he hadn¡¯t expected to see.

    Tanya was there, flanked by her two Goblin assistants. She was sitting proudly on top of a delicate-looking icestag, one that had to have been taken during the fights with the Frost Elves. The woman looked almost unbearably smug. Her attendants were riding small, almost immature-looking Wargs, though they looked far more uncomfortable than Tanya did.

    Matt rode up to her on Nelson, which made her icestag shy a little. Tanya controlled the animal without much effort, smiling indulgently. He raised an eyebrow. ¡°It seems like you learn fast.¡±

    Her smile grew. ¡°I might have had a few horse-riding lessons back home.¡± She reached forward and stroked the icestag¡¯s neck. ¡°These creatures might not act completely the same, but I was able to find a pretty decent partner for the road ahead.¡±

    Then she gave him a considering look. ¡°You know, you don¡¯t ride too badly yourself. Did you have lessons too?¡±

    ¡°Not exactly. Growing up on a ranch meant I didn¡¯t really need them.¡± Matt shrugged and tried not to feel too sour about the fact that she was apparently coming along. ¡°Come on, then. We need to move.¡±

    Tanya and her assistants moved in behind him, with his lifeguards crowding in around all of them. She was chuckling to herself, and when Matt glanced at her, she rolled her eyes. ¡°Oh, come on. You¡¯re a cowboy. A cowboy king. It¡¯s funny.¡±

    He shrugged again, uncomfortably this time. ¡°So glad you¡¯re amused.¡±

    They soon caught up to where the banners were waiting, with Captain Snolt at their head. The Goblin seemed impatient to be gone; Karve and his banners had already marched out of the city, heading southwest. Snolt bowed in his saddle as Matt drew close. ¡°It is good to see you again, sire. Are we ready to go?¡± He glanced at Tanya and the others, clearly skeptical about their ability to keep up. Both Goblin attendants straightened up and returned his stare, while Tanya simply ignored him and continued to chuckle at Matt¡¯s back.

    ¡°I believe we are ready, Captain. Let¡¯s go. Lady Einreth is waiting for us.¡± Matt tried to shake off the feeling that the trip would be a disaster, and led the way out of the city. They crossed the river via the grand bridge and then turned west. The road to Heartlight was long, but he hoped it would be clear of danger.

    At least until they arrived, of course.

    The mounted column made surprisingly good time.

    Carts had tamped down the snow between Redspire and Heartlight, leaving them much easier to follow than the roads in the east had been. It also helped that the terrain to the west was mostly flat compared to the hills and mountains in the High Peaks. Matt actually relaxed a little as they made their way along the road. The reassurance of having three whole banners of armed troops with him contributed greatly to his peace of mind.

    To his surprise and resentful gratitude, Tanya managed to keep up fairly well. The icestag seemed to handle the slush and snow with impressive grace, picking its way across the road with an enviable lack of difficulty. Nelson seemed unbothered by his comparative lack of delicacy; the warbuck simply forged ahead with brute strength, comfortable now among the crowds of Wargs surrounding them. Whenever one of the beasts took too much interest, Nelson simply shook his antlers in warning, and the overgrown wolf understandably turned its attention elsewhere.

    As they reached the first campsite, Matt and the lifeguard set up his tent and their own. A handful of them helped Tanya with her tent. She seemed infuriated by the cold, but she still retreated into the shelter without any real complaints.

    Matt settled in for the night without fanfare, either. He knew he didn¡¯t want to arrive in the Red Moon capital bedraggled and exhausted; he needed to move without quite as much of a rush, and to be fresh when he confronted whatever plots were happening there. His focus on that future event was so narrow that he didn¡¯t even bother practicing magic that night.

    His attempt to sleep early came to an abrupt end when a frantic screech rose into the night air. Matt grabbed his mace and ran out into the winter night; pausing to grab armor might slow him down enough for assassins to reach his tent, and he needed to know what was happening before arming himself further. He stared in all directions, expecting to see banners of Shadow Hunters mid-charge with shortbows aimed at his camp.

    Instead, he was hit by a faint wave of freezing wind, a chill far beyond what the natural winter air was capable of generating. Matt shivered involuntarily and jerked around to face the source of the cold.

    He found it a heartbeat later. Tanya¡¯s tent was coated in frost, as if it had rained and then frozen over the cloth. One of her Goblin attendants shoved aside the tent flap, which crackled with breaking ice, and staggered out into the snow, gasping and shaking. Matt ran towards her, but Captain Snolt reached her first. The captain bent down, asking her calm, urgent questions.

    Matt ran past her, his eyes still on the tent. He grabbed the door and drew it back, peering in as it crackled and broke under his fingers.

    The inside of the tent was just as coated with ice as the outside had been. In fact, it looked even worse, and the bedrolls for Tanya and her assistants were just as bad. Her second assistant was curled into the fetal position, shivering too hard to stand. Frost coated her eyebrows and her skin was far too pale.

    Tanya didn¡¯t look much better. Frost laced through her dark hair, and her eyes were squeezed shut. Apparently, she¡¯d been dressed for bed already; she wore a silk nightgown of some kind instead of the dress she¡¯d had on for their ride. The gown was now half-frozen as well; frost cracked and flaked away with each motion. There had been parchments in her hand, but the frozen sheets were now frozen to the floor. She had her arms folded around herself, and she was shivering in waves that seemed to shake her entire body. Her eyes still closed, she turned partway towards where he was standing, shocked at the sight. ¡°M-m-matt? I-is th-that¡­?¡±

    Matt pushed past the doorway. He ripped a bedroll from the floor and tried to wave it, scattering a flurry of ice flakes all across the tent. Then he threw it over the shivering attendant, tucking it in around her. As the attendant cracked a blurry eye to look at him, he nodded and then went to Tanya, who was starting to fall to her knees.

    He caught her before her legs gave out, wrapping his arms around her. She felt cold, too cold. Her lips were blue. ¡°When you complete the Source¡ª¡±

    ¡°I kn-know!¡± Tanya sounded as angry with herself as she was with him. She shifted slightly, as if she was trying to smack him, but she gave up and rested her head on his shoulder. Ice cold water started to melt and soak his shirt. ¡°S-still n-n-not¡­¡±

    ¡°Just shut up for a bit, okay? You need heat.¡± Matt glanced back at the attendant and found that some of the Goblins had reached her. They were already crowding around her in an attempt to warm her. He thought he saw Snolt bringing the other one closer to the campfire and hoped that the soldier knew enough about hypothermia to avoid warming her up too fast. ¡°Besides, I¡¯m not exactly interested. I mean, you were kinda frigid before, but now¡­!¡±

    She started shaking again, and Matt felt a spike of concern. Then he realized that some of those shivers were chuckles. ¡°H-hate y-you.¡±

    He snorted. ¡°Feeling¡¯s mutual.¡±

    ¡°C-cowboy k-king.¡±

    ¡°Ice princess.¡±

    This time she did manage to smack him in the shoulder, though it was still pretty weak. Matt took it as a good sign and relaxed a little. He saw some of the Riders bringing another bedroll, one not infused with ice, and he accepted it gladly. It was going to be a long night.

 B2Ch12: A Cold Reception

    Matt felt tired the next day as they started out, but at least he felt better than Tanya did. The woman and her attendants still had occasional chills as they rode, but they all wore determined expressions as they pushed themselves to keep up with the column. His suggestion that they return to Redspire had not been well received; apparently Tanya¡¯s stubbornness had infected her attendants too, because both Goblins had practically drawn daggers on him for even voicing his concerns.

    Most of the soldiers had rolled their eyes at the bravado, though a small number of the Shadow Hunters had whispered and laughed while Matt¡¯s back was turned. The Royal First had not deigned to participate in the gossip, though Snolt had given him a sympathetic look or two as they made their way closer to Heartlight.

    Tanya and her attendants were mostly recovered by the time they settled in for the second night¡¯s camp, though Matt noticed that most of the soldiers had deliberately left a small clearing around Tanya¡¯s tent. If Tanya herself had noticed, she gave no sign. Instead, she just retreated into the shelter and stayed there. There was a blessed lack of frigid explosions, which helped Matt sleep all that much better.

    The third day, however, things started getting unpleasant.

    At first, he thought that the weather was turning. Gusts of cold wind kept buffeting him from all sides, spearing through the warmth of his cloak and armor. He shivered from the chill and hunched down lower in his saddle, hoping that the cold didn¡¯t impede their march before they could reach the city.

    Then he noticed that the cloaks of the surrounding riders weren¡¯t moving. They weren¡¯t crouching low over their saddles, either. Some of them were even giving him odd looks, as if he was acting strangely. One of the lifeguard even appeared to be trying to hide a smile.

    Suspicion struck him. The lifeguard wasn¡¯t full of people immune to the cold; he¡¯d seen them freezing alongside him during the ride from Ashpeak to Redspire. He doubted any of the rest of the soldiers were that much more used to freezing wind, either. It wasn¡¯t like he was riding with a bunch of Frost Elves.

    Another gust of wind hit him, and he crouched low and grunted as it seemed to blast straight through his cloak to chill the back of his neck. He caught a whisper of conversation and a subtle giggle. His suspicion became a full-fledged realization, and he turned back to see how Tanya and her attendants were handling the cold.

    Tanya immediately snapped upright in her saddle, with an expression that was trying far too hard to achieve innocence. Her attendants were similarly trying to look in any direction but at him, something that couldn¡¯t have made what they were up to more obvious.

    Matt met Tanya¡¯s eyes and glared at her. Her lips twisted as if she were going to grin, but then she simply spread her hands in apparent bafflement at his hostility. He raised his eyebrows, and her confusion turned into a smirk. Her attendants half-collapsed into fits of giggles on top of their Wargs, not even bothering to hide it anymore.

    He rolled his eyes and turned his attention back to the front. Maybe now that he knew it was them, it wouldn¡¯t be quite as entertaining anymore.

    The gust of wind that hit him a minute later seemed to prove his idea wrong.

    Fortunately, Tanya¡¯s Source did not seem quite as inexhaustible as Matt¡¯s was. She seemed to run out of gas around an hour after he realized that the wind was coming from her. It was too late, however; by the time she stopped pulling her little trick, Matt was already plotting his revenge.

    He hadn¡¯t taken as many documents from Redspire on his visit this time; he hadn¡¯t expected to have very much time to study or work on things while he was trying to stomp out a possible third rebellion. Just in case, though, Matt had taken a handful of Gnomish Earth Spells, hoping to be able to get used to the frameworks as he traveled.

    One of them was called the Trickster¡¯s Sneaky Pit.

    By the time they¡¯d reached the camp that night, he had a fair amount of confidence in his ability to control the new Spell. As they all set up their tents and got ready to settle in for the night, he pictured her and her attendants abruptly sinking up to their waist in mud. The framework built itself easily in his mind; the magic inside him cried out to be used.

    For a long moment, he held the power in his hands.

    Then he let the framework vanish and allowed the magic to subside back into its usual rumblings. As sure as he was of his control, the Spell was a new one. Matt could not be sure he could limit it properly. Tanya and her attendants could be buried in mud up to their necks, or worse, sink entirely into the soil. The pool of mud could extend beyond just her tent and engulf half the camp, inflicting misery on his own soldiers for a petty prank.

    It wasn¡¯t worth the risk. He was a King, not a child, and his people had already suffered enough for his mistakes. Power was a burden sometimes, but he intended to carry it well¡ªat least until he finally had the chance to set it down entirely.

    With a sigh, Matt settled into his bedroll and tried to sleep, bracing himself against another day of freezing gusts and giggles. He was almost to Heartlight; maybe it wouldn¡¯t be so bad.

    The next day¡¯s march was actually far more peaceful than he expected.

    Tanya gave him a few resentful glances, but other than that, she appeared to have gotten bored of tormenting him. The leagues between their camp and the city passed with relative ease, with just the normal cold and wind to battle against.

    Heartlight came into sight early in the afternoon, an hour or two after they had stopped for lunch. Nestled in a low valley and sitting astride the River Heart, it looked about half the size of Redspire. Unlike the capital of the Kingdom, however, the buildings were all made of brick. From the lowliest slave hut to the most elaborate palace, everything had been built from the sturdy, dependable material.

    Also unlike Redspire, Heartlight had exactly zero outer walls.

    It was something of a boast by the Kingdom¡¯s strongest High Clan. The Red Moon Orcs had been the greatest power within the Kingdom ever since they had usurped the position from the High Imps. It had been their strength that had forged the Kingdom initially, and their warriors had been the ones that had conquered others and compelled their obedience to the throne in Redspire. It was part of the reason that the capitol still bore a part of their name, and a legacy that they embraced every time the Kingdom marched to war.

    For that reason, they had deliberately left their own home city unguarded, open to any surrounding threat that would dare attempt to strike at them. There were no walls, no gates, not even a moat that encircled the brick buildings. If one asked a Red Moon Orc if they needed such things, or had even considered it, they would receive a reply laced with contempt, braggadocio, and laughter.

    The truth ran a little deeper, of course. Heartlight might not have had walls, but it did have strength of arms. In normal times, the Clan maintained a constant series of patrols. Numerous banners of Red Moon troops wandered through the Red Plains, purging their territory of bandits, rebels, or other undesirables. Any intruders were normally intercepted by those patrols long before they caught sight of Heartlight¡¯s unguarded borders.

    Even in time of war, Heartlight was no vulnerable fruit, ready to be plucked. Mat could see it in the way the buildings had been laid out, the way each structure had been deliberately planned and placed. The blocky buildings, made of brick, were built like miniature fortresses. Markets were contained in longhouses with narrow, arrow-slit windows and heavy portcullises ready to drop. There were elevated pathways made of brick that stretched between the larger buildings, giving the inhabitants a way to move between them even if war raged in the streets. At the center, near the river, was the Crimson Keep, a final fallback position that was meant to act as a sanctuary of last resort.

    Any army that attacked this place, looking for easy meat, was going to find themselves continually outflanked and ambushed. Every structure would be a miniature stronghold, and there would be a struggle to take every street. The city would never be undefended, either; unlike most of the Clans, the Red Moons had guaranteed that all members of their tribe carried arms, even before Matt¡¯s arrival. He didn¡¯t want to think of the butcher¡¯s bill that capturing the place would cost.

    Smoke rose from the city, both from the normal hearthfires, and the brickworks, where the Orcs created the bricks they used in their construction. That area of the city appeared to have been built up recently, a fact that Matt suspected had been caused by his own request for a constant flow of material for his construction projects in Redspire. They¡¯d only have more and more demand for their products as his reign continued, of course, so he hoped they would continue to have enough clay for the job¡ªand that he wouldn¡¯t run out of the coin to pay them.

    The Goblins in the column fell silent for a moment as they drew closer to the city. There were watchtowers rising into the sky around Heartlight, and Matt could see signals flashing out the moment his troops came into view. Matt wondered what kind of welcome would be waiting for him. Would the Orcs meet him with diplomats or banners? Soldiers or nobles?

    His question was answered as they drew close to one of the watchtowers. A group of messengers was waiting at the outskirts of the city, next to a standard that had been driven into the ground. The symbol of the Red Moon Orcs was drawn on the banner, and Matt supposed it was meant to be a signal to any visitors. One of the messengers stepped forward as the column came to a stop near them.

    Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

    ¡°The Clan of the Red Moon bids you welcome to Heartlight, King Matthew! We have received your message and have prepared your accommodations ahead of time. I can lead your banners to the barracks where they can stay, while your¡­ personal companions can come with you to the Crimson Keep.¡±

    Matt glanced around at his troops. Captain Snolt was watching him carefully. The Goblin seemed understandably reluctant to let Matt out of his sight, given Matt¡¯s suspicions about how things had been arranged. It was tempting to ignore the messengers and march his Goblin troops straight to the city¡¯s central fortress. Technically, the Red Moons owed him their loyalty; they should accept his decision to bring his troops right into the heart of their sanctuary.

    Realistically, though, if he wanted to bring the Goblins in, it would indicate that he saw the Red Moons as unreliable. They would believe he saw them as a threat. It would start his visit off on a tone of antagonism and hostility¡ªand while he was certain there were some among the Red Moons who wanted that to happen, it wouldn¡¯t help him at all to cooperate with their plans.

    So instead, he nodded to Captain Snolt and smiled. ¡°Captain, make sure that our troops are given the rations and fodder they need. Once they are settled, come find me in the Keep and report to me on your situation.¡±

    Then he turned to the messenger. ¡°My lifeguard, guests, and I will follow you to the keep now.¡±

    The messenger¡¯s eyes darted to the heavily armed men directly surrounding Matt. ¡°Ah, I was instructed to only escort you and the Maiden¡­¡±

    ¡°My lifeguard has been assigned to me by the Great Council and have sworn to accompany me wherever I go. Even among friends.¡± Matt¡¯s smile grew a little cold. ¡°Given that the Houses of the Red Moon Clan were among those who chose to assign them to me, they should be familiar with their mission. Unless you believe I am not welcome here?¡±

    The messenger froze in place, his expression shifting as he thought over the issue. It was clear the Red Moons had wanted Matt to feel isolated and vulnerable. Had they not expected him to not play along? The messenger obviously did not have orders covering the possibility, at the very least.

    Finally, Matt offered the man a way out. ¡°Perhaps you can send one of your fellow messengers to ask Lady Einreth what her directions are? I believe she is still the head of your Clan, is she not?¡±

    There was a flicker of distaste in the messenger¡¯s expression. Clearly, the man had been sent by a faction that was not on her side. Did Einreth even know about the situation? Was the enemy already trying to set up an ambush now, in the middle of the city?

    Then the messenger shook his head and sighed. ¡°I understand, King Matthew. Your lifeguard may accompany you. We would not want you to feel¡­ unwelcome.¡±

    The twist he put on the words made them somewhat sarcastic, as if he was trying to avoid directly calling Matt a coward. Matt raised an eyebrow. ¡°That is fortunate. If it turned out that I was unwelcome, well¡­ The Frost Elves could probably let you know how that went for them.¡±

    He¡¯d let his voice grow cold and hard on those last words, and the messenger drew back slightly. Matt met his eyes and let his smile vanish for a moment, picturing the brick buildings shattered and broken around him. It wouldn¡¯t be something he wanted to do, but if the Red Moons wanted to play that game¡­

    Then he smiled again, and the messenger shuddered. He started down the first winding street that would lead towards the Crimson Keep. Matt, Tanya and the rest of the lifeguard turned to follow¡ªhis guards were staring in all directions, as if expecting assassins to sprout from the walls. It was not a relaxing first visit to a city that was supposedly friendly to him.

    Fortunately, nothing happened as they made their way through the city. There were plenty of Orcs who stopped and glared at them, but most simply regarded them with mild curiosity or annoyance at the inconvenience their presence in the street caused.

    There were others in the city, people who obviously didn¡¯t belong to the High Clan. They ranged from Elves to Knights to Wizards; serfs taken in battles long before Matt had risen to power. There were Goblins, Gnomes, and Imps as well; apparently the Orcs here didn¡¯t see the need to exclude the rest of the Kingdom from their slave-taking. They all looked exhausted and ground down by their lives, which Matt doubted were filled with joy.

    He gritted his teeth. It was one of the first places where he was being confronted by the reality of the Kingdom. Redspire had long been filled with freeholders, most of them liberated by Matt¡¯s own decisions. Summerhall had been mostly free by the actions of their own nobility; the Gnomes in general seemed far more egalitarian than the rest of the Kingdom, and they had been enthusiastic in embracing the principles he¡¯d espoused.

    Ashpeak had likely had more serfs than freeholders, though the reports he¡¯d heard put the number at around two-thirds of the non-nobles there. The Imps had been subtle about their abuses, though; during his visit there, he¡¯d mostly been visiting nobles and military personnel, and it was likely that the serfs had been hidden away to avoid his notice.

    The Red Moons obviously hadn¡¯t cared about his opinion, and their barbarity was on full display here. From what he could tell, barely one in twenty serfs had been freed by the Clan, and there was no sign that they intended to change that fact any time soon. Such a callous display of disrespect and animosity set Matt¡¯s teeth on edge and made his hands itch. It took a conscious decision to ignore the urge to start throwing around royal decrees and leading a serf rebellion against their former masters. That course of action would immediately drive three quarters of the nobles into rebellion, no matter what he¡¯d done so far.

    Matt let his expression grow grim. Piece by piece, he¡¯d tear the old establishment down and build something new in its place. Something new. Something better.

    ¡°I¡¯m grateful that you came all this way, sire, but I¡¯m not sure what you hope to accomplish here.¡±

    Lady Einreth had received them as soon as they had reached the Keep. She had been waiting in the courtyard of the fortification, dressed in a simple tunic rather than the dueling armor she had worn the last time he¡¯d seen her. The messenger that had been leading them had paused when he saw her, and then bowed and excused himself. Einreth had dispatched her own servants to bring their possessions to the rooms the Clan would lend them, and then invited Matt and his lifeguard to join her in her own chambers while Tanya and her attendants followed their belongings.

    Now she was facing them across a table, her expression worried despite her attempt to seem unflappable. The last time she had spoken with Matt, it had been a conversation full of accusations and threats. He wondered if this time she was expecting more of the same.

    Matt leaned forward, trying to seem calm. ¡°You remember what I said the last time that we met?¡±

    Einreth shifted. ¡°It would be hard to forget, sire.¡± Then she shook her head. ¡°The assassins never came for me in Shadowfen. I do regret that they came after you, as you predicted. My actions placed the Kingdom in danger, and I¡ª¡±

    He held up a hand, and she stopped. ¡°The assassins might not have come after you in Shadowfen, Lady Einreth, but I believe they are coming for you here.¡±

    She made as if to answer and then paused. ¡°You believe the challenge has something to do with Lady Suluth?¡±

    Matt nodded. ¡°I believe so, yes. She already tried to kill me again on the road from Ashpeak. She may have been waiting for me at Shadowfen as well.¡±

    The Orc stirred slightly. ¡°I admit it makes sense, but why would Tolreth go along with it? He was never incredibly fond of the Goblins, and Suluth should not have anything to offer him.¡±

    ¡°Not even control of the Clan?¡± Matt looked around the room, noting the tapestries and fine furniture. ¡°If she somehow has given him a way to be sure that he¡¯ll win the duel, then he might have agreed to whatever plan she has going. He might even intend to follow her into rebellion if he does seize control.¡±

    Einreth nodded slowly. ¡°I was fairly confident that I could defeat Tolreth easily. We¡¯ve sparred before, and I¡¯ve won every time. You think Tolreth intends to cheat?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯d be surprised if he didn¡¯t, honestly.¡± He frowned. ¡°He can¡¯t be acting alone, can he? Tolreth has to have some kind of backing within the Clan.¡±

    ¡°He does, sire.¡± Einreth grimaced. ¡°Unfortunately, there are¡­ several members of the major Houses that believe the Clan of the Red Moon is being ignored and dishonored. They claim you are elevating lesser peoples above us, and that you seek to force us to diminish.¡±

    Matt tilted his head. ¡°The members of the Great Council from your Clan don¡¯t appear to agree with that argument.¡±

    ¡°They wouldn¡¯t, sire. After all, they are the ones who volunteered to go to Redspire to represent us.¡± She folded her arms. ¡°Those with more¡­ militant views have refused to have anything to do with the Council, or with Redspire. Some of them are speaking about going our own way.¡±

    Matt couldn¡¯t help but laugh. ¡°After what just happened to Itrelia?¡±

    Einreth spread her arms. ¡°They say that the Frost Elves were weak. That they failed because they lack our might. Some say that if we rise, we could take on the entire rest of the Kingdom and win.¡±

    He studied her for a moment. ¡°How many are listening to them?¡±

    She shrugged. ¡°Many of the younger nobles, the ones who haven¡¯t seen much battle, or my brother¡¯s closest friends.¡± A flash of anger crossed her expression. ¡°Tolreth is one of those. He had the audacity to imply that my cooperation with you dishonors my brother¡¯s memory. That I was bought with promises of treasure, and the reward of a false title in his memory. For that alone I would gut him, but he has also chosen to challenge my authority in the Clan as well.¡±

    Matt frowned. ¡°Are the duels usually to the death?¡±

    Einreth smiled. ¡°It is traditional in this case, yes. It tends to leave fewer opportunities for failed contenders to complain later.¡± Then she looked away. ¡°Nowadays, protocol allows the challenged party to decide whether the duel lasts until first blood or goes until one contender is dead. Given his insults to me¡­¡±

    ¡°You chose for it to be to the death.¡± He felt a burst of dread. It was a textbook form of manipulation. What had Sun Tzu said? ¡®If your opponent is temperamental, seek to irritate him.¡¯ They had taunted her into setting the terms for her own assassination. It had to have been intentional.

    Matt lowered his head, still thinking hard. There had to be a way to turn this situation around. He just needed a little more time. Unfortunately, he wasn¡¯t going to get much more. He¡¯d only been able to delay things thanks to demanding to supervise the duel. Now that he was here, Tolreth was well within his rights to push forward with the fight.

    He looked up. ¡°Are there any other rules or restrictions for these duels? Anything else that Suluth and Tolreth could use?¡±

    Einreth peered at him with apparent skepticism. ¡°There are some. Outsiders are not allowed to interfere with a duel once it has begun. Each party is only allowed to use a single Spell during the duel. If there is more than one person on each side, they can each use only one Spell. They can use whatever armor and weapons they want, but no animals or mounts.¡±

    It sounded interesting, but there didn¡¯t seem like there would be any loopholes to take advantage of. Then he paused. ¡°Wait. There can be more than two people involved in the duel?¡±

    She nodded. ¡°Yes, sire. If a person challenges more than one person at a time, or if there are groups challenging one another, they might choose to fight as a group. All parties have to agree, however, before anyone steps into the ring.¡±

    ¡°Hmm.¡± Matt rubbed at his chin for a moment. ¡°Nothing else?¡±

    Einreth shook her head, and Matt grunted. There had to be more to the situation.

    Before he could say anything else, however, a servant knocked at the door. Einreth gestured for them to come in, and the servant presented a letter. The Orc looked it over and blinked. ¡°The elders of the Clan have decided to welcome you with a feast. We are all invited to come to it tonight.¡±

    Matt grimaced. A diplomatic dinner did not sound like his idea of a good time. Then again¡­ ¡°Will Tolreth be there?¡±

    She nodded, and he grinned. ¡°Well, I guess we should eat together before we all try to kill each other tomorrow. Right?¡±

 B2Ch13: Respecting Traditions

    ¡°So I understand that you have an interest in artisanry, Lady Tanya.¡±

    Matt choked a little on his food while Tanya preened under the attention. ¡°I suppose I do. Though I must admit, I¡¯m not very good at producing art on my own. More that I enjoy collecting and showing it off.¡±

    The dinner had been going fairly well so far, better than Matt had expected, actually. The elders of the Red Moon Orcs had gathered in a grand hall inside the Keep, where there was a large table set. Food had been piled high, and the members of his lifeguard had taken up posts around the room, unobtrusively watching the entrances and the attendees.

    Matt had been given the seat at the head of the table, while Einreth had taken the one at the opposite end. It put him in the uncomfortable position of being separated from his most valuable ally, but it was a sign that they still honored his title as King, so he had to swallow it.

    Tanya had been seated at his right hand, which had been both aggravating and reassuring. Her attendants were nowhere to be found, but she had thrown herself right into the idle chatter with the elders at once. Matt had tried to wade in as well, answering questions about the battles he¡¯d fought and his time in Redspire, while trying not to give away any weaknesses to possible enemies.

    There were a lot of those in the room at the moment. The Red Moon Clan had six different noble Houses, all of whom had a habit of feuding with each other over control of the Clan, or even the Kingdom itself. House Einden, Einreth¡¯s House, was currently in ascendance, and supposedly enjoyed allies in both House Golren and House Wathred. The other three Houses¡ªTolmorr, Pokthan, and Delmeth¡ªwould have loved to overthrow them and take control themselves. Even Golren and Wathred would probably have taken a shot, if they could do so without risking their status.

    Tolreth was the heir of House Tolmorr, and it quickly became clear that he¡¯d forged a kind of alliance with the second sons and daughters of Pokthan, Delmeth, Golren and Wathred. They were all seated together in a group at the table, smirking at Einreth and making sarcastic remarks whenever they were addressed. Moreover, they were all dressed in dueling armor, which contrasted sharply with the less-martially dressed Orcs in the room. Their elders seemed relatively desperate to smooth things over for the course of the dinner, but Matt could tell that they were almost at their wits¡¯ end.

    He wondered if any of them realized that their supposed kinsmen were quite ready to have them all killed.

    It was obvious, the way Tolreth was maneuvering things. Once Einreth was dead and he had seized control of the Clan, the others would probably start challenging the nobles ahead of them in seniority until they controlled five out of the six Houses in Heartlight. From there, he¡¯d go on to rebel, or maybe take Redspire and the throne there as well. The way he kept giving Matt challenging stares during the dinner had clinched it.

    Of course, he¡¯d wanted to get through the dinner quietly and maybe start passing warnings to the Orc elders afterwards. Only now the elder of House Golren had just asked Tanya to bring up her art project, and he was once again regretting taking her from the Coalition in the first place.

    The Golren elder frowned, as if taken aback by Tanya¡¯s answer. ¡°I see. I supposed you had gained your title by creating works of art yourself in the capital.¡±

    Tanya smiled indulgently. ¡°Maybe one day! Currently, though, I intend to create a grand museum for art from all over the Kingdom. People can visit and enjoy the rich culture and heritage your people have created.¡±

    The Wathred scion in Tolreth¡¯s orbit snorted. ¡°I don¡¯t see why anything great could come from most of those Clans. What does a Gnome or a Goblin know of art or beauty?¡±

    The comment seemed to pass right over Tanya¡¯s head. She simply shrugged. ¡°I think that gathering such art would help answer those questions, actually! You can learn so much from a person by the art they create, or by what they appreciate as beauty. In fact, I had planned on acquiring some of the masterpieces from your Clan while I was here.¡±

    There were a few smiles around the table, though they ranged from contemptuous to genuine. The Tolmorr elder, an ancient Orc that looked half-gone from age, raised his hand. ¡°I have many pieces that you are welcome to inspect, dear Maiden! You would be honored to have such artwork in your collection!¡±

    Tanya smiled at the old man. ¡°I am sure I would, good sir. I will try to make time to stop by.¡±

    Tolreth snorted. He shook his head and then looked around the table. ¡°I¡¯m afraid that they might be priced a bit too richly for you, Human. The art of the Red Moons is not traded away so easily or cheaply.¡±

    Given his own experiences with Tanya, he half expected her to blow up at the condescending Orc. Instead, Tanya looked genuinely disappointed. ¡°Ah, I was afraid of that. You have so many wonderful things here!¡±

    She gestured around the room, and there was a rumble of pleased satisfaction from the Orcs at the table. Matt was forced to add his own nod to her words. The Orcs of the Red Moon, did seem to have fairly good taste in art. The sculptures set into the walls were of the highest quality, as if the Orcish warriors depicted there were ready to step from their pedestals and into battle. Every glass and plate was richly decorated as well, with the delicate silver worked into countless curves and flourishes. Tapestries covered the red brick walls, showing scenes of glory and victory from the martial past of the Clan, and higher still were the banners of their defeated foes, each of which was remade and repaired to keep them fresh when the moths had begun their work.

    Tanya sighed and continued. ¡°I guess that will mean that we¡¯ll have to show far more of the other High Clans¡¯ works. I know Lord Torth has committed to providing me with several examples of High Imp metalworking, and Lady Grumsen from the Hard Scythes has told me she is commissioning something special for the museum once it opens. It will be a shame that the section dedicated to the Red Moons will be a bit¡­lacking?...but there¡¯s no way around it. Things are how they are.¡±

    Matt stared at her in utter astonishment for a moment before he remembered where he was. It was like watching a master fisherwoman set the bait for a gullible salmon. There were already mutters of discontent spreading through the elders and their heirs. Even the batch near Tolreth were shifting unhappily in their seats. It was one thing to overcharge a gullible woman for simple artwork; it was another to be told that your Clan¡¯s legacy would be left out of a celebration over price.

    Einreth spoke up from her position at the other end of the table. ¡°Lady Tanya, I personally assure you that you may pick one piece from my House¡¯s collection to display. You need only ask, and I will make sure that it reaches you.¡±

    With a beaming smile, Tanya clapped her hands together. ¡°Oh, excellent! Thank you for your support!¡±

    Other elders were discussing what they could offer, but before anyone else could volunteer more, Tolreth spoke over them. ¡°I would visit her quickly, Human. She may not have much time left.¡±

    The Orcs around Tolreth chuckled to themselves, though many of the older Orcs looked uncomfortable. Einreth merely raised an eyebrow at her challenger. ¡°Your words are fierce, Tolreth, but we will find out how justified they are tomorrow.¡±

    Tolreth smiled at her, more a baring of teeth than an actual show of good humor. ¡°We would already have done so had you not enjoyed the apparent favor of our King, Lady Einreth.¡± He directed a frank glare at Matt, something that seemed to alarm his mother beside him.

    Matt raised an eyebrow at Tolreth. ¡°My apologies, Lord Tolreth. I was merely curious about seeing how your people determine who leads among you. I had not had the opportunity to visit your home before now. If waiting a day or two has inconvenienced you, that is unfortunate.¡±

    Tolreth was still glaring at Matt, but the elder of House Pokthan spoke up next. ¡°And how have you enjoyed the city so far, sire? I am told it is quite impressive compared to other places in the Kingdom.¡±

    ¡°It is clear your Clan has built something wonderful here.¡± Matt smiled. ¡°I look forward to seeing Heartlight grow and expand as time goes on. Hopefully, once the wars are done, I will be able to visit more often.¡±

    Another of Tolreth¡¯s companions snorted derisively. ¡°Will you make another dishonorable treaty, then? Better to remain at war than to be forced to tolerate these¡­ lessers around our people.¡±

    The Delmeth elder gave the younger Orc a sharp look and spoke quickly. ¡°I understand you will be marching against the rebel Teblas soon, sire. You plan on finally ridding us of his treachery?¡±

    Matt nodded, though he kept his eyes on the youngster that had spoken. His enemies were acting far too provocative. It was odd for them to be this confrontational. Even Braden had been more careful with his words around Matt. ¡°I will. He has caused enough trouble, and more than enough grief. I will bring him and all the rest of the traitors to justice.¡±

    Further down the table, the heir of House Golren raised his cup and grinned. ¡°Good! I look forward to seeing them brought down. Teblas¡¯ head would make a fine trophy, especially in honor of the memory of Lord Braden.¡±

    A murmur of agreement ran through the gathered Orcs, though it was noticeably absent from the ones seated near Lord Tolreth. Einreth glanced at them, and her expression grew tight with anger. Matt caught her eye, and she grimaced and nodded. They would need to deal with the would-be traitors soon enough, but now it might not be the greatest idea to start things at this feast.

    Matt looked back at the Orc who had made the comment originally. He forced a smile. ¡°I agree. Though it will still be a poor exchange for a Defender of the Realm. Teblas and his rebellion is simply just a waste when we have so much else to do.¡±

    The elder of House Wathred was studying Tolreth and the others around him with sudden distaste. She seemed a bit uneasy at their words, which made a certain amount of sense. ¡°So I have heard, King Matthew. If I have heard correctly, you seem to have many plans for the peoples of the Kingdom. Ideas about how to grow and expand our power. Do your ideas extend to Heartlight as well?¡±

    He tapped the table in front of him with a finger. ¡°It definitely could, yes. The same improvements we¡¯ve made to Redspire can be done here, and they would bring the same benefits. I see no reason for the rest of the Kingdom to leave the Orcs of the Red Moon behind. Why shouldn¡¯t you move forward into the future alongside the rest of us?¡±

    Tolreth¡¯s smile didn¡¯t quite match his narrowed eyes. ¡°Or why should we not lead them from in front?¡± He spread his arms, the dueling armor he wore creaking with the motion. ¡°After all, are we not the greatest of the High Clans, and the ones who have built the Kingdom¡¯s glory? It should be our Clan that rises above all others. The strong should always lead.¡±

    Matt met Tolreth¡¯s stare with one of his own. ¡°I¡¯ve found that we are normally far stronger together than we are apart. Those who try to succeed on their own often find themselves unable to survive.¡±

    Tolreth raised an eyebrow. ¡°Those who are strong have no trouble dealing with a problem by themselves, King Matthew. At least, that was what Lord Braden believed. It is what I believe.¡±

    The challenge was clear in Tolreth¡¯s tone, walking the careful edge between disrespect and polite disagreement. Matt leaned back in his seat. ¡°A wise man in my world once said that ¡®a single twig breaks, but the bundle of twigs is strong.¡¯ It¡¯s much the same with the Kingdom. Better to fight together than to let yourself be surrounded and alone.¡±

    One of Tolreth¡¯s companions laughed, a harsh bark of sound. ¡°Perhaps a twig might have to worry about such things, but the Red Moons are a mighty trunk! We shall always be victorious.¡±

    A subtle tension had crept into the meal. The other Orcs were eating more slowly, watching the developing confrontation. Einreth spoke up from where she sat, her voice carrying an edge of anger still. ¡°King Matthew has defeated many of our enemies already. He can hardly be called a twig.¡±

    Another of Tolreth¡¯s goons gave her a mocking smile. ¡°You may believe so, but I have heard differently. From what I¡¯ve known, most of the killing was done by others, while he has mostly only bothered to slay a few Frost Elves and a chained old Imp. Hardly the act of a warrior, striking down such little people.¡±

    Clarity washed over Matt as he finally understood what Tolreth¡¯s friends were doing. They were taunting him, just as Tolreth had taunted Einreth. There was a difference, though. Unlike Einreth, Tolreth and his friends believed he wouldn¡¯t respond to insults. They thought he was weak and easily intimidated, that they would be able to imply and undermine him freely, even in the open like they were now. It made sense, in a way. After all, they were planning on assassinating Einreth right in front of him, while all he could do was watch helplessly.

    He smiled at the Orcs. ¡°The Red Sorceress might disagree with you, but I suppose that is something you don¡¯t know very much about.¡±

    The Orc flushed with anger, and Matt let his smile grow. They weren¡¯t the only ones who could needle and taunt someone to hasty actions. A plan started to form, but before he could finish thinking through it, a group of servants came through the door.

    They were a group of Knights, clearly many years into their servitude. Two carried a pair of goblets, richly decorated vessels of gold and crystal, with a matching pitcher that had been filled with a purple drink. One moved over to where Einreth sat and set one of the goblets before her. As they filled it and the Orcs began to relax back into their seats. Einreth relaxed a little as well, and smiled at Matt across the table.

    Unauthorized usage: this narrative is on Amazon without the author''s consent. Report any sightings.

    ¡°I hope you can indulge me in a moment of tradition and honor, sire. It has long been a habit of the Red Moon Clan to toast their liege and be toasted in return. I hope you do not mind the vintage.¡±

    Matt gestured, and she nodded. The servants came over and set the other goblet in front of him, before filling it with the same pitcher. They then began to circle the table, filling the cups of the Orcs around the table, beginning with the elders and continuing until they had given the same thing to all of them.

    Einreth stood and lifted her goblet. ¡°To the Kingdom of Iron! May we rise above the enemies that surround us and the traitors that would seek to undermine us. Let misery fall on all those who would stand in our way.¡±

    The Orcs all raised their cups and shouted their assent. Matt did likewise and then paused. Nobody had drunk anything yet. They had all turned to look at him.

    He stood, running over the words he wanted to say in his mind. Matt lifted the goblet a little higher, looking around the table.

    Then he stopped. Tolreth was watching him. Staring at him, really, with a kind of expectation that Matt felt like he recognized. It reminded him of his conversation with Lord Penk, and his suspicions of poison flooded back through his mind.

    He glanced at Einreth, who was still looking at him expectantly. The poison wouldn¡¯t have been in the drink; everyone had gotten it from the same source. A good old poisoner¡¯s teapot hadn¡¯t been used either, just a plain pitcher. It had to have been slathered on the inside of the cups; the nature of the ceremony made it that much easier, since only Einreth and himself had special cups.

    His realization compounded as he glanced back at Tolreth, who had narrowed his eyes slightly. There might have even been two different poisons. They wouldn¡¯t want Einreth to die before the duel, but if she was just weakened¡­

    It fit. He wished it didn¡¯t, but it did. If Einreth was forced to fight while weakened by poison, it would make the victory easy for Tolreth. They must have planned it before Matt had announced his arrival and adjusted their plans afterwards. His glass definitely didn¡¯t have a simple weakening poison. Suluth would have used something much stronger. A drink from that glass would kill him, leaving the Kingdom in chaos while Tolreth took control of his High Clan and announced an alliance with Suluth.

    All they needed was for him to swallow a few insults and then a bit of poison. Then thousands of people would die, all with Teblas and the Alliance poised to continue ripping everything apart, all so a spoiled group of slave-owning nobles could grab at some petty bits of power they didn¡¯t earn.

    Anger boiled in Matt¡¯s gut, burning at him. He fought it down and forced himself to smile. They expected him to be passive, docile. Obviously, they had read weakness in his decisions, and had decided that he was some kind of puppet. A man that they could challenge and dispose of at their leisure. If they had acted just a little sooner, they might have been right.

    Now, though, it was time for a change of plans. Sun Tzu would have approved; a warrior never wanted to do what the enemy expected. Especially not now.

    ¡°I have learned much about your Clan since I arrived here. I have admired your strength. I have been impressed by your legacy of loyalty and honor. Your Clan has been the heart of our Kingdom, and you deserve the respect you have received.¡±

    Murmurs of agreement ran through the Orcs, and he saw smiles break out among the elders. Some of Tolreth¡¯s gang even started to grin; Tolreth himself leaned back into his seat, a look of satisfaction in his eyes. Matt smiled as well and lifted his cup higher.

    ¡°What has impressed me most is your dedication to strength. To your warrior¡¯s heart. You have made sure that the strong are the only ones that can lead you. That only the mightiest of warriors can determine your future. You¡¯ve remained so powerful because of that sacrifice, I imagine. Your dedication to honor, and to the forgiveness of those strong ones that have killed your kinsmen in order to win the right to lead.¡±

    The Orcs had been smiling at his words at first, but by the end of them, some were starting to shift in their seats. Those who had been feuding with each other exchanged glances before looking away. Tolreth was not the only one frowning when Matt paused, though he was the only one that spoke. ¡°A truly strong warrior accepts such things.¡±

    Matt nodded vigorously and moved his glass in a kind of salute. ¡°Exactly! Of course.¡± He pushed back his chair and walked around the side of the table to where Tolreth and his group were sitting. The eyes of the Orcs followed him as he moved. ¡°Any other people would be broken by such actions. Their strength would be fractured and weakened by feuds. By petty warfare and long-held grudges. The fact that the Orcs of the Red Moon have risen beyond such things is inspiring to me.¡±

    He stopped beside Lord Tolreth. The Orc had turned slightly in his seat to look back at him, his eyes now wary. Those of his gang were also looking back at him, seeming uncertain or contemptuous. Beyond them, the elders were all frowning now. They couldn¡¯t argue against his words, not without condemning their own faults, but Matt knew they had to sting. To burn just a little as they were forced to acknowledge the truth of the cost of their traditions. Einreth, most of all, was watching him with concern. Tanya stared at him with confusion, and her eyes darted to the frowning Orcs around her as if the situation had spun out of control.

    In a way, it had. Things were now out of Tolreth¡¯s control now¡­ and completely under Matt¡¯s.

    Matt let his smile grow, almost to a manic amount. ¡°I have learned so much from all of you. I know that some of you consider me weak. That some of you believe that I only strike down the old, infirm, or small. That perhaps a man like me is unworthy of the throne that sits over your Clan.¡±

    He saw worry spreading among the Orcs, and saw them start to stir. Mouths were opening as if ready to protest, but Matt didn¡¯t give them the chance. Instead, he raised his cup one last time, high over his head. Matt let his voice ring out over the growing mutters. ¡°So now! Let me show you how wrong you are.¡±

    With two quick strides, he was next to the end of Tolreth¡¯s gang. The armored Orc sitting there twisted in his seat to stare back at him. Matt grinned in his face.

    Then he tipped the goblet and poured liquid down over the Orc¡¯s helmet.

    He didn¡¯t pour all of it, just enough to get it in the Orc¡¯s eyes. His target spluttered and coughed, swiping at his eyes. Before he could rise, Matt spoke in a cold voice of bared steel. ¡°I challenge you to a duel.¡±

    The Orcs all froze, including the one with the poisoned drink dripping down his face. Matt moved again, to the next of Tolreth¡¯s followers. She stared up in shock as he poured a bit more of it over her. ¡°And you.¡± He turned to Tolreth himself, as if considering the Tolmorr heir. Then he shrugged and passed Tolreth by, dousing the next of his followers. ¡°And you. And finally, you.¡±

    He upended the goblet, making sure to shake out the last drops of the drink. Shocked silence greeted him, and Matt smiled at the group. ¡°I would have included you, Lord Tolreth, but I believe the Lady Einreth has prior claim. Not that it will really matter. It will all end the same.¡±

    The silence held for another heartbeat. Then the Orcs threw themselves out of their seats. A clamor of voices competed for dominance; it was a while before one of the elders, the one from House Golren, was able to speak over the others. ¡°Sire, to challenge these four like this, in the middle of a toast¡­¡±

    Matt made a gesture, and the room fell silent again. ¡°This is how it is done in the Clan, is it not? You called Lady Einreth from the front lines to handle a challenge, despite the risks for the rest of the Kingdom. Is there anything more precious about these four that means they are more crucial than she was?¡± Silence answered him, and he raised his eyebrows. ¡°Or perhaps you think it isn¡¯t fair for me to challenge them when they are all so weak. I concede that you are right. Fighting them one by one would be¡­ unsatisfying, so they can face me all at once. Unless they are too frightened to do so?¡±

    Expressions darkened, and Tolreth¡¯s friends snarled at him with anger. He smiled mockingly back at them; he knew they couldn¡¯t refuse, not without being shamed before the Clan. The opportunity to kill him outright and seize the Divine Right for themselves was another lure, baiting them alongside their sudden fury at his insults. Still, he suspected they would require one last push to agree.

    The elder of House Pokthan stepped forward, his voice soothing. ¡°Perhaps we can arrange for the duel to take place later, when heads are cooler. Maybe after the issue with Lord Tolreth and Lady Einreth is settled, we can revisit¡ª¡±

    Matt gave him an incredulous look. ¡°What? No. When I said a duel, I meant right now.¡± He stepped over to the table and grabbed a carving knife that had been stuck into the cooked carcass of some bird. With a couple of swipes, he cleaned it off on the tablecloth. ¡°This should work for me.¡±

    Shock had stilled the Orcs again, and he turned to face his opponents. ¡°Well? You already are wearing your armor, aren¡¯t you? Or do you need a few minutes to go get a weapon you forgot?¡±

    The question shocked them out of their stupor, and one of the Orcs stepped forward with a clenched fist. ¡°I am ready. And it will be to the death. Sire.¡±

    One by one, the others followed suit, and Matt nodded. He looked at his lifeguards, who were standing by uncertainly, and gestured for them to remain where they were. If they interfered in the duel, it might start a rebellion right there and then. Even as easy as it would be, he didn¡¯t want to win the fight and lose the Clan that way.

    Matt walked over to where Einreth sat, still shocked and staring. He carefully took the goblet from her hand and set it aside. ¡°You may want to drink something better, Lady Einreth.¡± The Orc¡¯s eyes suddenly grew wide, and she looked from the cup to him. ¡°Or perhaps you should go and fetch your armor. Things may be¡­ interesting soon.¡±

    Einreth stared at him for a moment. Then she nodded. She rose from her seat and started off after the other Orcs, who were all filing out of the room. The only person still at the table was Tanya, who was staring at him with a mixture of horror and surprise on her face. Matt simply nodded to her and went out after the Orcs. He had a job to do now.

    The dueling arena had been built beside the Crimson Keep long ago, though there was some debate about whether the arena or the fortress had been constructed first. Seeing the place, Matt actually wondered if there was some truth to the idea that the Keep had been built as a place to take refuge after a contentious duel had ended, meant to keep out the unsatisfied losers of the engagement.

    It was a plain place, one with a circle of stone seats arranged in a large stadium with a circle of dirt at the center. The Red Moons hadn¡¯t even bothered to pave the middle of the place, apparently preferring the plain soil to more refined stages, though someone had at the very least scraped away the frost and snow in preparation for Einreth¡¯s duel the next morning.

    Matt walked into that circle of dirt and tried not to shiver at the cold in the air. The arena was open to the sky, of course, and the stars glittered overhead. At the very least, the seats surrounding them cut the chill wind that could have blown through the place. He momentarily regretted walking into the duel in only his tunic, but at least he had gotten the result he wanted.

    All four of his targets were waiting across the arena from him. They were armed with large weapons; two carried broad, two-handed swords, a third carried an axe that looked like it could cut through a door in a swing, and the last held a pair of war maces that were heavier than what he usually carried. Each had a set of spiked armor that looked ready to absorb any attacks he might be able to throw; they could probably have just charged and impaled him immediately.

    His armored surcoat might have helped with that, but it likely wouldn¡¯t. The Red Moon Clan had a reputation for enhancing their weaponry and armor with Spells; if the nobles in the ring with him followed that habit, then they would probably be able to cut straight through his protection as if he wasn¡¯t wearing it. Better to be able to move freely, then. Not that he would last long if they managed to get in close.

    Matt hefted the carving knife in his hand and started to whisper the words of his first and only Spell of the duel. He felt the framework take shape in his mind and held it close to the Source that still rumbled and ached within him. The nobles across from him appeared to be doing the same, preparing their own mystical tools to strike him down. His heart started to beat faster; his breath misted in the air as the cold closed in around him.

    Einreth had not joined them in the stadium, but the elders of the Orcs had all come in her place. Their heirs and companions had come too, as had the lifeguard. Matt had made sure that the guards wouldn¡¯t act during the duel itself; they¡¯d only make sure that if Suluth had any other surprises, they wouldn¡¯t interfere with the result. The elders watched them carefully, as if not entirely trusting them, but they didn¡¯t say anything about it.

    One of the elders, the leader of House Tolmorr, stood up. He glanced at Lord Tolreth, and then spoke in a warbling voice. ¡°Contestants! We have come to this place of honor to resolve a dispute among warriors. Is there any hope of resolving this without spilling blood?¡±

    Matt simply shook his head, and then flexed his fingers, trying not to lose the feeling in his hands. His opponents growled and shook their heads as well, clutching their weapons.

    The elder looked saddened. He shook his head and spoke again. ¡°Then let honor decide the way forward. Begin!¡±

    At those words, his opponents reacted instantly. They sprang forward, their words calling their magic to life. Flames wrapped around both swords, heating them to an eye-hurting red. Lightning wrapped around the edge of the axe, lighting the arena with a flickering glow. An icy chill trailed after the maces held by his last opponent, promising a painful result on contact. Together, they sprinted at him, roaring with rage.

    Matt snapped his attention back to those four. Then he extended his hand and let the magic flow through him.

    The dirt in the arena responded instantly. His Spell weakened the ground, turning it from firm soil and occasional patches of mud into a pit full of loose sand and half-frozen mud. He had tried to make sure that it didn¡¯t spread too far, so instead of flooding across the entire stadium, the magic dove down deep into the dirt, constrained to a few dozen square meters. It happened all in an instant, with a sudden rush of power that left him reeling.

    In that instant, all four Orcs fell, dropping into the ground as if they had run straight off a cliff and into deep water. The dirt shifted and flowed beneath them, and their armor dragged them down as they thrashed and tried to escape.

    Sudden, utter silence filled the stadium as the Orcs struggled and choked. Matt looked up at the elders with raised eyebrows, as if waiting for their protests, their accusations of dishonor.

    He found none. The elders and their companions just stared down at the four struggling Orcish warriors. Tolreth had gone pale; he glanced at the lifeguards who were still standing motionless at the exits, and swallowed.

    Satisfied that no one was going to protest, Matt started forward, the knife held in his hands. He skirted around the edge of the pit he¡¯d created, still pouring magic into the space so that the Orcs couldn¡¯t escape. As he approached one of them, the warrior tried to thrash around to face him. The Orc didn¡¯t succeed before Matt crouched down and yanked their helmet back. His knife slid into the gap between the helmet and chainmail easily.

    Matt stepped back, letting the dying Orc fall forward into the mud. He approached the next one and repeated the strike. This time, the Orc hadn¡¯t even managed to turn around; she¡¯d been trying to free her axe from the clinging pit. When he got to the third one, he paused and then moved on; the Orc had fallen face forward into the pit and was now lying motionless. A grimace worked its way across his face; suffocating in the mud was not a great way to go.

    The last Orc had managed to work his way partially out of the pit. He was leaning heavily on the edge of the pit, trying to lever his way out of the sucking soil below. Its crumbling surface didn¡¯t support his weight; part of it gave way and let him slide partway back into the muck.

    Despite that, the warrior swung at Matt as he closed in. The mace swept past Matt as he danced back. When the Orc raised the weapon, Matt darted in and grabbed the arm. He ducked low and stabbed into the space between the armor plates under the warrior¡¯s armpit. Three stabs later, and the Orc was slumping back into the pit, his eyes already going glassy from blood loss.

    Matt stood back and let the magic go. The soil reformed under the Orcs, becoming solid again. Just to be sure, he walked over to the third Orc and made sure they were dead. He stood back and looked at the elders in their stone seats again.

    They were staring down at him in silence. Some of them wore expressions of anger or resentment; others were clearly afraid, their faces pale. Tanya had a hand over her mouth, and an expression of both horror and disgust. Lord Tolreth was staring down at the four dead Orcs with a stricken expression. He looked up at Matt and both rage and grief filled his face¡ªat least until Matt smiled and spread his arms, the knife still in his hand.

    ¡°Now, I regret delaying your prior business. Fortunately, I am sure that since we are all here anyway¡­¡±

    He trailed off and glanced to the side. Einreth had just entered the ring, her dueling armor reflecting the light of the stars. The large axe across her shoulder shone with a razor¡¯s edge. She stared up at Lord Tolreth; when he saw her, his expression was suddenly filled with shock and fear.

    Matt didn¡¯t give him the chance to run. ¡°Lord Tolreth! I apologize for delaying your contest with Lady Einreth. Fortunately, it appears she is now ready. Are you?¡±

 B2Ch14: Reaching Shadowfen

    A very short duel and beheading later, Lady Einreth once again invited Matt to speak with her in her study. He took enough time to return the carving knife and wash some of the blood and dirt out of his tunic before he visited her.

    The Orc was out of her dueling armor, though she hadn¡¯t bothered to get quite as clean as he had. Tolreth¡¯s blood still stained a portion of the clothes she had worn beneath the plate. She did not appear to be troubled by it as she bowed. ¡°My liege. I am grateful for your help today.¡±

    ¡°It was no trouble at all, Lady Einreth. I am glad you were able to resolve your dispute without much trouble.¡±

    Einreth smiled. ¡°Something tells me I would have been in more danger had you not intervened, my liege.¡± She paused, and her expression grew serious. ¡°We were able to find the servants who put the poison in the glasses. Both of them had been killed before we could reach them.¡±

    Matt grimaced. ¡°Then whoever Suluth sent to deal with you is likely already out of the city. I doubt they would stick around after the show we just put on.¡± He looked out the window, where the rest of Heartlight was visible beyond the glass. ¡°Do you think that the other Houses will give you any more trouble after this?¡±

    The Orc shook her head. She sat down at her desk heavily, apparently now tired after the efforts of the night. ¡°No, I believe they are mostly cowed now. Seeing four of their best brought low with a table knife can have that effect.¡±

    ¡°Good.¡± He didn¡¯t feel great about having to deal with the situation this way, but it was better than letting it fester. Besides, bullies and thugs like Tolreth and his gang usually expected everyone else to act civilized while they did whatever they pleased. It was somewhat gratifying to show them what could happen if the gloves came off. ¡°I¡¯m going to be taking my banners to Shadowfen. Unless you have other business to take care of here, I expect you to come with me.¡±

    Einreth nodded. ¡°I will be ready to go with you tomorrow, my liege.¡± Then she paused, looking around the room. ¡°Is there anything else you would ask of me, sire? I feel¡­indebted to you. For overlooking my hasty actions, and for helping me to maintain control over my Clan.¡±

    Matt gave her a wry smile. ¡°I only require your loyalty and your dedication to the cause of the Kingdom, Lady Einreth.¡± He shook his head. ¡°I meant what I said about the Orcs of the Red Moon. Yours is a strong people. I do not want to see them left behind while all the others prosper. Please help me to reach them, and to bring all of us into a bright future.¡±

    It was a little corny, but he meant the words. Einreth studied him for a moment, and then nodded. ¡°As you say, my liege. We are strong, but stronger together.¡±

    He nodded back, and then bid her farewell. There was plenty of road ahead of him, and he¡¯d need at least one good night in an actual bed if he wanted to arrive at least somewhat fresh.

    They set out from Heartlight the next day.

    He heard some grumbling from the Goblins as the column formed up for the march south. Apparently, one night in the barracks of Heartlight had not allowed them to rest as much as they had wanted; only Captain Snolt appeared to be happy to start moving south. He¡¯d given Matt a level look when they reunited. ¡°You know, sire, you aren¡¯t the only one itching for a good fight. You can¡¯t keep hogging all the glory for yourself.¡±

    Matt snorted. ¡°I¡¯ll try to save some of Teblas¡¯ men for you, Captain.¡± Snolt nodded as if it was a favor he¡¯d been expecting, and Matt snorted again. Sitting in a garrison really did seem to be the worst thing in the world for the Goblin. What was he going to do once the Kingdom was at peace?

    That idea stuck in Matt¡¯s mind for a while as they rode through Heartlight. The Orcs were avoiding the column; those few who were in the streets got out of the way immediately. Many of them stared at him and his troops in fear. Apparently, news of the duel the previous night had spread beyond the nobles and the troops.

    The serfs, however, looked at him differently. There was a spark of interest in their eyes, something that surprised Matt. He hadn¡¯t freed them; he still couldn¡¯t, not without pushing the majority of the Clan over the edge into open rebellion. At the same time, he had struck at some of their supposed masters. Had that really been enough to gain their appreciation?

    Tanya had been avoiding him since the duel. She looked at him differently too; apparently it was one thing to know he had killed people, and another to see him actually do it. Matt just tried to ignore her. She shouldn¡¯t have been on the journey anyway, and at least now he wasn¡¯t being blasted by random gusts of ice cold wind now and again.

    Einreth, on the other hand, had met them at the edge of town, with a handful of her servants with her. She rode a warbuck almost the same size as Nelson, and was dressed in a more functional version of her dueling armor. When he approached, she bowed from the saddle. ¡°My liege.¡±

    ¡°Lady Einreth.¡± Matt returned the bow, and then looked to the road south. ¡°Shall we?¡±

    She nodded, and the column started for Shadowfen. Behind them, the city of the Red Moon was quickly lost to the trees. The Darkwood, and the capital of the Blackleaf Goblins, lay ahead.

    The journey was a calm one. Matt knew he still needed to watch for ambushes on the road¡ªSuluth was still out there, after all, and she knew her plans in Heartlight had failed¡ªbut the weather remained good, and the roads had been traveled consistently since the last snowfall. Apparently, Shadowfen and Heartlight saw more trade than he¡¯d realized; almost every hour they passed a cart headed one way or the other, trundling along the well-worn tracks in the snow and mud.

    To his relief, the column moved quickly. The Red Plains were relatively flat and uncrowded; as a result, they were already at the edge of the Darkwoods by the end of the first day. They camped at the border between the two High Clans; there was a large marker beside the road, a stone plinth that rose nearly as tall as the ancient trees within the forest beyond. It had been inscribed with runes at some point, but age and lack of care had allowed them to be worn away. Now it was simply a marker to show where the dominion of one Clan ended and the next began.

    Matt could instantly feel the difference when he entered the Darkwoods the next day. There had been plenty of snow-covered fields and frost-rimed trees on the Red Plains, but the forest here was¡­different. More primeval. The snow had still fallen, of course, but here it barely seemed like there was any space for it to gather between the trunks of the trees and the underbrush that gathered beneath the branches.

    The silence was difficult to get used to as well. Something about the oppressive vegetation made it seem like idle conversation was a bad idea; even the wind sighing through the trees appeared to be hushed. It still brought chill, of course, as it whispered by, but it was a far cry from the occasional howling wind on the Plains.

    Despite the change in atmosphere, the column still made good time. If anything, the roads in the Darkwoods appeared to be even better cared for than those on the Red Plains. Even the need to watch for ambushers beneath the leaves didn¡¯t keep them from drawing close to Shadowfen by the end of the second day. Einreth speculated aloud that they¡¯d reach the place by noon on the following day, and Snolt agreed.

    From there, he¡¯d need to deal with whatever traps that Suluth had set there, and then move south. He just had to hope that he wasn¡¯t already too late to stop Teblas from trying to reinforce his homeland. There would only be one way to find out.

    That night, as the banners settled into yet another roadside camp, Matt looked over his maps for what seemed like the millionth time. If the delay at Shadowfen was short enough, he¡¯d still reach the place he needed to be in the Grim Hollows. He just had to hope that he found Karve in command of the troops, and the city still firmly aligned with him. Otherwise, he¡¯d not only have to subdue one of the High Clans in the middle of their own territory, but he¡¯d have to scrape together forces from somewhere to stop Teblas shortly after.

    He shook those thoughts away and tried to focus. Karve had to have held. There was just no way for the situation to have gone so badly that the captain of the Iron Eighth had not only lost the city, but had also failed to send a message to Heartlight to warn him.

    The lifeguard stationed at the front of his tent knocked politely on the wood slab hanging there for that very purpose. Matt straightened up from his table to see the Orc poking his head in with an uncertain expression. ¡°The Maiden wishes to speak with you, sire.¡±

    Matt paused in surprise. Had she decided to come and lecture him for being a bloody-handed tyrant? He sighed. At least it would be a bit different from her normal cavalier attitude toward him. Maybe she¡¯d even agree to go home now instead of staying. ¡°Send her in. Thank you.¡±

    The lifeguard nodded and retreated back through the opening. Then Tanya lifted the door and came in.

    She looked as if she hadn¡¯t been sleeping well. There were bags under her dark eyes, and her dress looked a little disheveled. As she let the tent flap fall shut behind her, she looked around his tent as if she was searching for a reason to avoid looking at him. Her eyes seemed to catch on the mace beside his desk for a moment and then slid away again.

    Matt waited for a few moments. Then he straightened up and folded his arms across his chest. ¡°Is there something I can help you with, Tanya?¡±

    ¡°You killed those Orcs.¡± Tanya said it in a dull voice, one that carried the weight of at least one sleepless night behind it. ¡°It didn¡¯t even look hard for you. You just killed them.¡±

    He nodded. ¡°Yeah, I did.¡± A burst of regret managed to worm its way through him for a moment, and he squashed it solidly. ¡°It needed to be done. They were trying to plot against the Kingdom; their friend Tolreth had even poisoned our drinks. If I¡¯d left them alive, they would have been after us, and would have tried to help Tolreth start another rebellion.¡±

    Tanya jerked slightly, and she stared at him directly now. Her eyes were fogged by some horrible realization. ¡°They tried to poison us?¡±

    ¡°Well, just me and Einreth. You were safe, this time at least.¡± Matt shrugged. ¡°Though if I had died, I don¡¯t know if Tolreth would have let you go. He didn¡¯t seem like a very¡­ kind person.¡±

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    She shook her head, as if trying to shoo away her own thoughts. ¡°Did you even feel anything when you killed them? Anything at all?¡±

    Matt felt his face close down. ¡°That doesn¡¯t matter. I had to do it. If I didn¡¯t¡ª¡±

    ¡°Did. You. Feel. Anything?¡± Tanya stepped forward, her eyes fierce now. Anger had burned away the fog. ¡°Tell me now.¡±

    He paused, hesitating between answers. Then he decided on the truth. ¡°No. Not really. I honestly never have, not since the Red Sorceress.¡±

    Tanya stared at him in horror. Her face grew pale, making the bags under her eyes stand out. ¡°No. No, no, no¡­¡±

    Matt stepped forward and felt like an utter fool as she cringed back from him. ¡°Tanya, I¡­ I¡¯m not a monster. I¡¯m not going to hurt anyone I don¡¯t need to. I just can¡¯t let a bunch of nobles lead us into a civil war for their own power.¡±

    She glared at him, a hint of her former temper coming back. ¡°You don¡¯t understand. When you killed them¡­I didn¡¯t feel anything either. Nothing at all.¡±

    There was a moment of silence as Matt absorbed that information. He¡¯d always assumed that his lack of regret over killing someone had meant something about his mental health. Matt had grown used to the idea that he was a sociopath of some kind. How else could he be capable of doing things like this without flinching?

    Now, though¡­ ¡°M-maybe you¡¯re just in shock. You¡¯ll get over it and start feeling something.¡±

    Tanya shook her head. ¡°When I was five, I saw someone put down a rabid dog. I cried for a week after.¡± Then she looked away. ¡°How could I be sad about that, but not about four people getting stabbed to death in front of me? What¡¯s wrong with me? Is it something about this place?¡±

    He stared at her for a moment. Then he shook his head. ¡°I don¡¯t know. I can tell you it starts to¡­ go away after a while. It¡¯s like you get used to seeing everyone, and some parts of the uncanny valley start to go away. You start seeing everyone as more¡­¡±

    ¡°More human.¡± Her eyes narrowed for a moment, and she nodded her head. ¡°You¡¯re saying it¡¯s not me. It might just be the fact that they all aren¡¯t¡­ human.¡±

    Matt nodded, and Tanya slumped slightly. Some of the tension went out of her face, and she looked away. She even swayed a little, and Matt stepped forward just in case he needed to catch her before she fell. Tanya paused and then gave him a wry look. ¡°Sorry. You¡¯re the only human here, but you still don¡¯t have a shot with me yet.¡±

    He rolled his eyes and threw his hands up. ¡°I¡¯m not¡ªlook, can¡¯t I just do something nice without people assuming things?¡±

    ¡°Not while you¡¯re King, you can¡¯t.¡± Tanya wrapped her arms around herself and shivered slightly. Then she swayed a little and closed her eyes. ¡°I think¡­I might need to go lie down.¡±

    ¡°Go get some sleep then. We¡¯re arriving in Shadowfen tomorrow.¡± Matt watched as she turned to go, ducking out through the tent flap. He waited a moment and then poked his head out to speak with the lifeguard. ¡°One of you, make sure she gets to her tent safely, please.¡±

    The lifeguard nodded, and the Imp to his right immediately started off after her. Matt watched them go for a moment longer and then ducked back inside his tent. One more day until Shadowfen.

    They reached the Goblin capital a little after midday, a fact that Matt attributed to it being a little harder to wake Tanya than it usually had been before. At the very least, the woman was looking much better rested in her saddle. Hopefully, she wouldn¡¯t be on the edge of another mental breakdown in the middle of the city.

    It didn¡¯t help that both Captain Snolt and Lady Einreth had made comments about the fact that Tanya looked like she was doing much better. The way that they had said it made him feel like they were insinuating things that clearly hadn¡¯t happened. He once again hoped that he¡¯d be able to send Tanya home to Redspire as soon as his army was underway. There was no way she¡¯d want to come see an actual battle, would she?

    That nightmare scenario was still echoing around in his mind as the city of Shadowfen came into view.

    Unlike Heartlight, Shadowfen was not unwalled. The Goblins had gone almost completely in the opposite direction, constructing a series of walls that formed what looked like three interlocking rings. An attacker would have to take what seemed like three separate fortified cities in order to completely conquer the place.

    At the center of the three rings, in the space formed by all three walls, the Darkwood Citadel rose over the city. It was an imposing tower, one that was very nearly the equal of the castle of Redspire. The tower was sculpted in a way that made it seem like it had sprouted from the forest; the walls were shaped to look like the trunks of trees had been grown close enough together to form a solid barrier.

    They approached the northern ring, where the gate had been formed in a graceful arch. Goblins were standing guard at the entrance, and one of them carried the banner of House Rithune, the House that had taken over the leadership of the High Clan once Lady Suluth¡¯s treachery had become clear. The messenger bowed deeply as Matt approached.

    ¡°Sire, we have been waiting for your arrival. Captain Karve wishes to meet with you as soon as you are able, as do our Matriarchs. I can lead you to your quarters first.¡±

    Matt blinked. He noted the lack of a greeting for Lady Einreth, and put it down to the typical inter-Clan rivalries. Perhaps Einreth had ruffled some feathers the last time she was in Shadowfen. ¡°Thank you. If you can spare someone, please direct my troops to their quarters, and the Maiden to hers. My lifeguard will accompany me and Lady Einreth to see Captain Karve first. Let the Matriarchs know I will speak with them once I receive Karve¡¯s report.¡±

    The messenger nodded, and a pair of soldiers gestured for Matt¡¯s troops to join them. As he rode into yet another city, Matt tried to appreciate the change in scenery rather than just feeling tired. It had been a long week so far, however, and it only promised to grow longer, no matter how courteous the welcome. Hopefully Karve¡¯s report would be simple enough, and then he could start on the actual work of preserving the Kingdom.

    ¡°There were at least twelve assassins, sire, but they were clearly not expecting me to be the target.¡± Karve shrugged a little casually, something made a little difficult by the bandages on his shoulders. ¡°Fortunately, Sergeant Nikles and the others were able to regroup during their confusion and aid me. Those who tried to escape were brought down. Unfortunately, none survived the fight.¡±

    Matt rubbed the bridge of his nose with two fingers. ¡°You didn¡¯t think to inform me of this, Captain?¡±

    Karve raised an eyebrow. ¡°I was not sure that any messenger I sent would reach you. Most of Suluth¡¯s troops remain at large, and they would find little difficulty in catching a lone messenger.¡±

    The response made sense, and Matt let out a quiet sigh. Being mad at a soldier wounded in an assassination attempt meant for him didn¡¯t make much sense, anyway. ¡°And you were able to contain the fires?¡±

    ¡°Yes, sire. Most of the damage was superficial anyway, and the Fourth was able to trap most of the arsonists in the buildings that were already too far gone to save.¡± The Captain shifted quietly and shrugged again. ¡°I¡¯m sorry we didn¡¯t capture any for interrogation from that group either, sire.¡±

    Matt shook his head. ¡°It¡¯s fine, Captain. You did well.¡± From the sounds of it, he¡¯d single-handedly kept Shadowfen from burning down while also dealing with Suluth¡¯s main group of assassins, all while wounded in the initial attack. It did make Matt want to give him another medal, but his apparent lack of excitement about any of it was almost infuriating.

    Lady Einreth was much more open about her opinion of the situation, however. She looked Karve up and down and grunted. ¡°After all that, I¡¯m surprised you¡¯re still standing, Captain.¡±

    Karve gave her a brief grin. ¡°It has been a privilege to serve, my lady. However, I am more than happy to turn over command to you and to King Matthew. As invigorating as the experience has been¡­ I believe I may need some time to recover.¡±

    ¡°Then we¡¯ll have to give you all the time you need.¡± Matt grinned and clapped him on the shoulder. Karve had served him well once again. The sturdy captain of the Iron Eighth gave him a salute¡ªawkward, along with all the bandages¡ªand then left to see the doctors again.

    Einreth watched him go and then looked back at Matt, her expression amused. ¡°He seems to be a good servant, sire. I can see why you entrusted him with command while I was gone.¡±

    Matt raised an eyebrow. ¡°He is very reliable. In fact, he¡¯s been fighting with me almost from my very first battle in this world.¡± Then he let his tone grow a bit more serious. ¡°He¡¯s also still in command here.¡±

    The Orc noblewoman had been nodding. Now, though, she flinched as if she had been struck, and stared at him. ¡°Still in command? Why? I am the head of the High Clan of the Red Moons, and he¡ª¡±

    ¡°Is someone who is never going to have something better to do than command my army.¡± Matt kept his voice very, very level. ¡°You have the concerns of an entire House and Clan to worry about. Karve is a soldier, just a soldier. That is one reason why he is going to stay in command here for a little while longer until I get things sorted out.¡±

    Einreth looked like she wanted to protest. He watched the emotions battle on her face, a struggle between pride, anger, resignation, and respect. Then she snorted and looked away. ¡°It is¡­ your choice, sire. I only hope that he can serve you as well as I could, and that we do not regret this decision in the future.¡±

    There was still an edge of distrust in her voice, but Matt thought it was more for Karve than for Matt. In fact, unless he was entirely off the mark, she almost sounded¡­ hurt? As if his decision not to give her back command had been a personal injury for her, rather than a simple loss of status and power. He frowned for a moment, wondering how to balance the situation.

    Then he smiled as he hit on a possible solution. ¡°In the meantime, Lady Einreth, I¡¯m going to need your help.¡±

    She looked up at him in surprise and smiled. There was a hint of hopefulness in her face. ¡°You do, sire? I am at your disposal.¡±

    Matt nodded, hoping that he didn¡¯t sound too obvious. ¡°Glad to hear it. I need to meet with the Matriarchs later. What can you tell me about them? How likely are they to support Lady Suluth?¡±

    Einreth¡¯s expression had a brief flicker of disappointment, but it disappeared as she shook her head. ¡°The Matriarchs function as the heads of the main Houses for the Blackleaf Clan. There are three of them, and each has control of a section of the city. They share control of the Citadel, and cooperate to appoint a leader for the High Clan.¡±

    He frowned as he realized something. ¡°They haven¡¯t done that recently. Unless they managed to do it without letting Redspire hear about it.¡±

    Einreth grimaced. ¡°No, sire. They appear to still be debating who should replace the traitor. Apparently, none of the noblewomen have proved themselves sufficient to the task. Sending representatives to the Great Council was simpler for them, but they often take quite a bit of time to decide on the Clan leader. They took almost a year to decide when Suluth was chosen.¡±

    ¡°So the delay is not an unusual one.¡± Matt couldn¡¯t help feeling a little suspicious despite her nod of agreement. If one or more of the Matriarchs was sympathetic to Suluth¡¯s cause, they wouldn¡¯t want to replace Suluth as the leader of the Clan immediately. They might try to hold off on the decision and give Suluth the chance to either kill Matt or otherwise regain her power in the Clan. ¡°Have any of them shown signs of supporting the traitors in any way?¡±

    ¡°No, sire.¡± Einreth smiled as Matt gave her an incredulous look. ¡°House Rithune is currently in ascendance over the other two, so they are more than happy to follow your lead. House Selthune was allied with House Calthune, but they have a history of following whichever of their rivals is strongest, extracting favors when they switch sides. They have stuck with that strategy now, and there¡¯s no reason to suppose they will change it.¡±

    Matt nodded slowly. ¡°And House Calthune?¡±

    Einreth paused. ¡°Calthune was Suluth¡¯s House. They know they are under suspicion, but they have already abandoned her completely. From what I can tell, the leaders of the House have declared that she is no longer welcome among them, and that her actions have set her beyond recovery.¡± She smiled. ¡°I think they wish to avoid your displeasure, sire. Other rulers would have been far more¡­ upset at the assassination attempts and disloyalty. They may hope to avoid such a reaction by pledging their loyalty to you more firmly.¡±

    He thought back to Lord Penk, and the decimated House that Tek had come from. ¡°Well, hopefully they just stay loyal and don¡¯t get too fanatic about it. Any suggestions for how to encourage them to guard our backs instead of sticking knives in them?¡±

    The Orc shrugged. ¡°The fact that we¡¯ve had troops here has¡­ encouraged them to remain reliable. Both because they need those troops to defend against Teblas and because they won¡¯t be able to rebel with banners on their backs. Aside from that, act as they expect you to act. The Matriarchs have had visits from their monarch before, so they know what you¡¯ll do.¡±

    Matt blinked. ¡°And what is that?¡±

    ¡°Demand their obedience, try to twist their arms into doing something they should already be doing, and generally act regally.¡± Einreth laughed at the look on his face. ¡°Do not worry, my liege, you¡¯ll do fine! As long as you don¡¯t demand their heads or fatally insult them, they will be reasonable. They may even be curious as to your plans for their city, given the ideas you¡¯ve put into practice in Redspire. As long as they don¡¯t get the wrong idea, they will be yours. Suluth won¡¯t be able to raise a rebellion in the city without killing or capturing them first.¡±

    He nodded slowly. As long as he was able to avoid anything unexpected, the next few hours should give him the chance to secure Shadowfen against treachery and prepare for the march south. Once Teblas was dead, he could afford to send some of his forces to track down Suluth and end her, while the rest of his troops prepared for the invasion from the south.

    One more tiresome diplomatic meal, and then he¡¯d finally be ready for the real struggle ahead.

 B2Ch15: Just Desserts

    After a few more questions about the cultural process of visiting the Matriarchs, Matt left for the meeting, with Einreth at his heels. She¡¯d promised to attend with him, hoping that her familiar presence would smooth over any lingering hostility. Matt wasn¡¯t sure if the sight of the leader that had been riding roughshod over them the past few weeks would help all that much, but at the very least it would remind the Matriarchs of the fact that he had more than just their power at his disposal.

    The room where the Matriarchs waited for him was located high up in the Citadel, in a space that could look out over all three rings of the city below. It took some time to get to the place; there were plenty of stairs to climb, with Goblins guarding each landing. They bowed to him as he climbed, and Matt nodded back, hoping they couldn¡¯t tell that he was getting a bit winded with the effort.

    When he reached the room, he could hear the murmur of conversation. The high, shining sound of someone laughing in delight echoed out through the heavy wooden doors. He paused, staring at the elaborately carved entrance, his eyes tracing the etched mural of a group of Goblins gathered around a tree in the forest. Perhaps it was a record of the founding of Shadowfen. Either way, were the Matriarchs discussing something without him? The laughter had sounded almost¡­ familiar.

    Matt glanced at the guards stationed on either side of the doorway. They bowed formally and then returned to their positions. Some of his own lifeguards took up their own positions¡ªnotably, where they could watch the guards as well as each other¡ªand others lined up behind him and Lady Einreth, ready to accompany him into the room. He looked around at them, and then nodded.

    Then he pushed open the doors and walked into the room.

    He made it three steps before surprise froze him in place.

    The Matriarchs were sitting in three high-backed thrones around a small round table. He could see the emblem of Shadowfen emblazoned on the wooden surface, though it was partially covered by a set of plates and cups. Their thrones were well crafted, with the symbols of their Houses carved deep into the top of each one. Matt actually envied them a little; his own throne in Redspire was a metal, severe-looking thing, with none of the cushions and craftsmanship on display here.

    Another throne had been set up around the table, though it lacked the high back and House Symbols. Instead, it was built much wider and lower, with branches and vines carved as if they were crawling along the back and arms. It was faced away from him, but Matt believed he¡¯d probably see the symbol for Redspire on its back.

    There were a couple of other chairs set up alongside that low throne; obviously, the Matriarchs had anticipated that Einreth would accompany him to the meeting. It was a logical assumption to make, really.

    It was a lot less logical that Tanya was already there, in the other chair, chatting with the Matriarchs as if they were old friends.

    He stared at the scene for a moment, and Tanya looked back at him. She smiled and raised her cup to him slightly. Einreth muttered something at his side, but Matt ignored it and looked to the Matriarchs. They were studying him with neutral, searching expressions, as if they were trying to bore their way into him with their eyes.

    He started forward again, his boots thumping softly against the bare wooden floor of the room. It was mildly disconcerting, after the stone or dirt floors he¡¯d become used to, but the Goblins had a tendency to use wood where they could, and the Citadel did not seem to be an exception. As he drew close to the table, the women stood. Tanya gave him a slight incline of the head, while the Matriarchs all bowed carefully, their white hair brushing the table as they moved.

    The middle one spoke. ¡°King Matthew, we bid you welcome to Shadowfen, and to the Citadel. We trust your journey was not too arduous.¡±

    Matt offered them a bow in return. He smiled. ¡°Not at all, Matriarch Rithune. In fact, I am glad that I am finally able to come and see your wonderful home.¡± With an elaborately casual gesture, he motioned for Einreth to take the other remaining chair, while he scooted the low throne back a little so that he could sit as well. As he dropped into the seat, the others lowered themselves into theirs. ¡°I hope I haven¡¯t intruded on your plans by coming here now.¡±

    ¡°Not at all, sire. Your presence is quite reassuring.¡± The Matriarch from House Selthune glanced at Lady Einreth, and then looked back to him. ¡°We have had far too much disruption and discontent in our fair city. It will be good to have a bit more¡­ direct oversight here.¡±

    ¡°I am glad you feel that way.¡± Matt scooted his throne a bit further forward, looking around the table again. He couldn¡¯t help raising an eyebrow at Tanya. ¡°I see that you have already met Tanya. I hope she hasn¡¯t been causing you any trouble.¡±

    The Matriarch of House Calthune was the one who answered¡ªjust a bit too quickly and softly for Matt¡¯s tastes. ¡°Not at all, my liege. In fact, we were just discussing her projects in Redspire, and how good it will be to finally have a place to exhibit so many wonderful treasures from all across the Kingdom.¡±

    Matt raised both eyebrows now and looked back to Tanya. She gave him a smile that was almost sickeningly sweet. ¡°I was telling them about how much progress the workmen must have been making on the museum, and about how lovely it will be to showcase the talents of their artisans alongside the other Clans.¡±

    Einreth grunted quietly. ¡°I trust you mentioned that the pieces I contributed were promised a place of pride, Maiden.¡±

    Tanya nodded easily. ¡°Of course, Lady Einreth. I appreciate your personal contribution to the cause, and I would not forget the promises I made to you.¡± Einreth nodded with satisfaction, at least until Tanya continued. ¡°Of course, there might be many such places of honor in the museum. That¡¯s the entire point of it, after all! I see no reason to deny the Houses of the Blackleaf Clan their own spot.¡±

    Matriarch Calthune took a sip of her cup and set it down. She nodded gratefully to Tanya. ¡°It will be my House¡¯s honor to contribute several of our best craftwork to the building, Maiden. Your wisdom reassures me that our time and effort will not be ill spent.¡±

    ¡°Indeed. You persuade me to make my own contributions as well, Matriarch Calthune.¡± Matriarch Rithune¡¯s eyes were sharp as she glanced at her onetime superior, and then as she glanced at Matt. ¡°You must be very fortunate to enjoy the¡­ company of such a wise advisor and confidante, King Matthew.¡±

    ¡°Though I suppose we all occasionally fall into the error of spending our time with¡­ lesser concerns.¡± Matriarch Selthune¡¯s murmur was almost low enough to miss, without quite reaching that goal. She sipped her cup as well before continuing, her eyes on Lady Einreth. ¡°It surprises me that you would remain closeted so long with someone not as clever and graceful as your wonderful Maiden. It seems a waste of precious effort, to be truthful.¡±

    He stiffened as the implication struck home, nearly choking on a mouthful of water, but Einreth smiled and responded before he could organize his thoughts. ¡°I assure you that our King has enough vigor to spend however he sees fit. Why, even I can hardly keep up with him; I imagine our poor Maiden is fairly overwhelmed at times.¡±

    Matt finally managed to swallow his drink without snorting half of it through his nose. He had just enough time to glance at Einreth, who was wearing a fairly satisfied expression compared to the grimmer looks from the Matriarchs. Then Tanya spoke, her voice cool and aloof. It was like a knife made of ice. ¡°I suppose there is no accounting for taste, though it is not hopeless. The finer things in life do win out eventually, in the end.¡±

    Einreth gave Tanya a vicious grin. ¡°On that, we may agree, Maiden.¡±

    He started to feel like the situation was wholly out of control. Unless he was completely idiotic, the Matriarchs obviously thought he was quite a lot closer to Einreth than he actually was. A lot closer, in fact. Einreth hadn¡¯t denied it, though. She¡¯d actually encouraged the misunderstanding. Was it just to cement her ties to the throne, giving her more influence? Or was it just to keep the Matriarchs off balance?

    Either way, it appeared that the Goblins were hoping he¡¯d choose Tanya over Einreth, in the hopes of keeping the Red Moons from gaining too much influence. Tanya obviously wasn¡¯t opposed to using those hopes to get her own way, and was playing along.

    All of which meant that not only were there rumors he was sleeping with two different women, both Tanya and Einreth were now competing to be his fake lover. Matt felt the pressure for another headache start to build between his eyes. He raised his cup to his lips again and tried to sound somewhat casual. ¡°So, the weather has been nice lately, hasn¡¯t it?¡±

    An hour later, Matt was almost wishing for an emergency to happen, if only for him to try to escape the catastrophe he¡¯d become trapped in.

    The supposed diplomatic dinner had become a nightmare of innuendo, sniping, and insinuations that made him long for death. Usually, this kind of subtle manipulation was fine by him; he could turn the Matriarchs against each other and convince them to go along with his ideas. Failing that, he could metaphorically beat them into submission the way he had at Heartlight using their own traditions against them.

    This time, though, the local rulers were a united front, and their traditions apparently included aggressive political matchmaking. Calthune in particular seemed uneasy about the existence of a male ruler with no ¡®companion to balance and guide him¡¯ correctly, though she seemed less hostile to Einreth than Selthune and Rithune were. Of course, the fact the ¡®moderate¡¯ in the room still insisted on him having some committed companion when he didn¡¯t want one was not ideal, and when the servants opened the doors to bring in the third course of the meal, he briefly weighed the ramifications of just sprinting out the opening to escape the mess.

    The author''s tale has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

    It didn¡¯t help that both Einreth and Tanya were clearly enjoying their ¡®rivalry¡¯. There might have been an edge of seriousness in their biting comments to each other¡ªthey were just a bit too cutting, and it was just as clear that they weren¡¯t particularly fond of each other¡ªbut every time he caught their eye and the Matriarchs were distracted, Matt thought he saw a hint of amusement in their eyes. Clearly, if anything united his supposed lovers, it was making him awkward and miserable. Perfect.

    As the servants came closer, Matt looked over to them, hoping for some distraction from the conversation at hand¡ªapparently Selthune favored blue for a wedding color, something that both Rithune and Einreth objected to vociferously¡ªand paused. There was something about the way they were walking¡­

    He¡¯d noticed that most of the servants in the Citadel happened to be male. It was an interesting inversion compared to the usual expectations throughout the Kingdom, but not normally one Matt would have paid attention to. If he hadn¡¯t been trying to distract himself from a trio of grandmothers trying to dissect his fake love life, perhaps he would have missed it.

    One of the servants was walking wrong.

    Matt frowned, trying to figure out what was bothering him. He¡¯d seen this exact servant earlier in the meal; he¡¯d been the Goblin that had brought him his soup, if his memory was correct. The man had walked with a certain gliding grace then, like he was skating across the wooden floor instead of stepping on it. Most of the other servants had matched that same effortless stride, along with a business-like efficiency and focus that Mat had been forced to admire.

    Now, though, the same servant was moving differently. It was more of a swaying stalk forward instead of the effortless glide. The man¡¯s head was up and alert, but instead of watching Matt or the Matriarchs he was sneaking glances at the lifeguards stationed at the edges of the room. They were all walking that way, their expressions blank and their eyes alert. He felt the hair on the back of his neck start to stand up as one of them brushed at the empty air at their hip. It looked empty, but if the Goblin had been wearing a sword¡­

    Matt pushed his chair back slowly, trying not to be obvious about what he was doing. He glanced at the lifeguards, but they didn¡¯t appear to have caught on to anything. Was he being paranoid? If he had made a mistake, then he might touch off a diplomatic incident over a bunch of odd waiters. The last thing he wanted to do was stab some butler full of holes and give the Matriarchs a reason to mistrust him.

    Still, being overly worried about assassins was a mistake he could recover from. Being assassinated by wait staff was not. He reached over and grabbed a knife that he¡¯d been given with the second course, hoping that it would serve him as well as the last carving knife he¡¯d used in combat. Somehow, he didn¡¯t expect the results to be as dramatic.

    Einreth and the Matriarchs were still talking, but Tanya had abruptly gone still. She was watching him with wide eyes. Her eyes darted to the servants, and realization filled her. Fortunately, she didn¡¯t grab any silverware of her own, but she did start muttering something under her breath. Whether it was magic or a prayer of some kind, he couldn¡¯t tell.

    His own magic wasn¡¯t going to be useful in the situation at all. Wooden floors wouldn¡¯t react to any of his abilities, and shattering a hole in the wall wouldn¡¯t give him any real chance to escape. Matt¡¯s fingers tightened on the knife as he watched the servants come closer. He wasn¡¯t going to have much of a chance, but he¡¯d have to make a good try of it.

    The servants fanned out, each one carrying a dish to one of the members of the meal. Matt glanced at Einreth, who looked at him with a curious expression. He used the chance to slip the knife off of the table and down beside him. If he waited until one of them was right alongside him, he¡¯d have the chance to jump them before they moved.

    When he looked back, the servant was staring at him. There was recognition in those eyes, and a burning hatred that told him that his attempt to look nonchalant had failed. The servant was already starting to move; one hand had let go of the plate he was carrying, and the other was already darting towards the invisible space where his sword probably was. Matt could sense the others starting to tense as well; they hadn¡¯t moved yet, but they were going to, and in a minute he and everyone else at the table were going to be in the middle of roughly eight armed assassins.

    Matt threw himself out of the throne and lashed out at the servant. He was able to cross the distance in a pair of strides, but by the time he made it, the servant had already drawn a sword and blocked his knife. The impact sent shivers through the knife; a fragment of the edge chipped away and nearly hit Matt in the eye.

    He stepped back, looking for an opening. As he did so, the illusion that had been hiding the man fell away, and he jerked in surprise.

    The Goblin had actually been a woman, one holding two shortswords in her hands. She wore dark cloth armor beneath rags, a uniform that identified her as a member of the Shadow Hunters. Golden eyes glittered with hatred as she flourished the blades in her hands. Out of the corner of his eye, he caught sight of the other servants dropping their disguises and stepping forward, their swords ready to strike.

    By now, the others were reacting. All three Matriarchs leapt from their thrones and drew daggers from under their clothes. The assassins facing them hissed in laughter, stepping in without any real fear. Einreth came out of her own seat with a roar, stepping forward to challenge the pair of assassins coming towards her. Another nearly caught him with a slash from the side, forcing him to back up. Matt staggered a little as he bumped against the chair behind him. Low laughter mocked him as both assassins advanced.

    Panic almost reigned in his mind, but Matt tried to force himself to calm down. He hadn¡¯t thought he could stop the assassins by himself; one versus eight was not a good plan, even in the best situations. All he really needed to do was stall long enough for the lifeguards to join the fight and¡ª

    His eyes darted to the lifeguards, and he nearly dropped his knife in shock. The lifeguards were all still lounging along the walls of the room. One of them was actually mid-yawn, as if utterly bored by the scene in front of them. They didn¡¯t seem to be the least bit alarmed by the assassins closing in on the Matriarchs and their ruler, even as the blades started to come up for the fatal strikes.

    It had to be an illusion Spell. Some kind of disguise that was shrouding the whole room, maybe even concealing the sounds they were making. The lifeguards were probably still seeing nothing but a simple dinner meal. He had to get to them, to wake them up. His eyes dropped back to the assassins, who were still advancing. Trying to run past them was not going to work; it would only get him stabbed and cut earlier.

    He backed up again, the back of his legs hitting his chair. His breath was low and harsh in his ears. Einreth was still roaring, but she had reeled back with blood on her arm from a slash. One of the Matriarchs caught a slash across her side and fell back across the table. Her fellow Matriarchs dashed forward to attack and nearly caught a second slash.

    Then, just as the Goblins were preparing to strike, Tanya raised her hands, and a chill filled the room.

    Matt saw the wind catch the assassins in front of him; he caught the edge of a wave of cold that washed across his skin. Both Goblins were sent flying to the side, their armor and clothes instantly rimed with frost. Swords spun out of numbed hands, skittering across the floor as the wind carried them farther than the stumbling assassins.

    He didn¡¯t wait for the Goblins to recover. Instead, he dove in and slashed at one assassin with his knife. The strike drew blood, but he didn¡¯t wait to see if the hit was lethal; he let go of the knife and grabbed a sword from the Goblin¡¯s unresisting hand. When the other assassin started to recover, he shoved the second assassin hard, tumbling them into the feet of one of the Goblins attacking Einreth. Matt heard assassins yell in alarm, and the other Shadow Hunter facing Einreth turned towards him. She didn¡¯t manage to strike him, though, because the Orc snapped out a punch that crunched into the Goblin¡¯s skull.

    As that assassin dropped, Matt saw the four that had been going after the Matriarchs shift their attention to him and Tanya. He gave a frustrated look at the lifeguard¡ªone of the frost-ridden swords had slid almost to one of the lifeguard¡¯s feet¡ªMatt ran back to the table, where Tanya was still standing. She was backing away from an approaching assassin, still muttering something under her breath.

    He reached her first, pushing around her to put himself in front of her attacker. Matt held the half-frozen sword in front of him, trying to keep it between him and the Goblin. When they struck, he managed to block at least one slice, dodged a second, and responded with a slice that forced them to back up. Though he was holding his own for now, Matt knew he was still only buying time. Einreth was still fighting behind him, but he knew it wouldn¡¯t last forever. There had to be some way for him to get them all away from the Hunters.

    Then he heard a roar, and the door to the servants¡¯ quarters slammed open. More assassins tumbled out into the room, disguises apparently discarded. They weren¡¯t alone, however; to his surprise, armored Orcs wearing the regalia of the Eighth Spears chased them into the room, shields countering shortswords and spears piercing armor. The lifeguard reacted immediately; at first, they started towards the newcomers. He could see the moment the illusion came down, however. Half of the lifeguard immediately changed course, charging across the floor towards him.

    Matt grinned as he looked back at the assassins in front of him. ¡°Time¡¯s up, traitors.¡±

    One of the Goblins snarled and leaped at him. Matt felt a flash of regret at taunting the Hunter, but another gust of wind caught the assassin in midair. It blew the Goblin¡¯s legs out from under them, knocking her backwards enough that her swords missed Matt by a large margin. He lunged out and stabbed in response. The swordpoint missed, skidding off the Goblin¡¯s armor, but the assassin still hit the ground face first.

    Before they could rise, Matt stabbed at the assassins again, this time hitting them in the back and pinning them to the floor. He lurched up and away, trying to keep his distance from the rest of the enemies. Fortunately, the other assassin was already sinking to her knees, a crossbow bolt in her back. The remaining two in front of him were already retreating, the blades of his lifeguards flashing. A glance behind him told him that Einreth was still breathing; the lifeguard had reached her as well, and none of the assassins there were moving.

    Tanya was still standing as well, her eyes flashing as she looked around the room. Her breath was coming hard, and the tips of her fingers were blue, but she wasn¡¯t falling apart. It was¡­ impressive, in a way.

    By the time Matt looked back, the fight was all but over. Between the Spears and the lifeguard, the remaining assassins were all down or surrounded. Within a few more heartbeats, the final few had dropped their swords and raised their hands.

    That quickly, it was over. He saw some of the Spears moving to help the Matriarchs; both Rithune and Calthune were wounded, though he thought they¡¯d both survive. Einreth was shaking off efforts to bandage her as well; the Orc¡¯s blood was up, and she was staring around as if she wanted to find more Goblins to fight.

    A brief pause fell, one filled with harsh breathing and tense looks. Then another Orc came through the servant¡¯s door, wearing a familiar set of bandages. Matt saw him coming and straightened up. ¡°Captain Karve.¡±

    Karve nodded to him. ¡°Sire. I¡¯m sorry we weren¡¯t faster.¡±

    Matt looked around the room, noting the blood and the wreckage. Then he sighed. ¡°Well, Captain, it could definitely have been worse.¡±

 B2Ch16: Moving Forward

    ¡°We were watching the Wargs, sire.¡±

    They were sitting in a study that Matriach Calthune had loaned them. Einreth had insisted on attending as well, despite her wounds. The Matriarchs had been taken away and brought to the doctors; Matt had been told that they would survive, which was hopefully the case. They¡¯d obviously proved their innocence, if only because they¡¯d been Suluth¡¯s targets as well. Attempted homicide had a way of uniting people, after all.

    Karve, just as professional and unflappable as he¡¯d always been, seemed to be a little more tired than he had been earlier that day. The Captain of the Eighth had not taken part in the fighting¡ªhis own wounds had prevented that¡ªbut his report showed that those wounds had not stopped him from preparing a trap.

    ¡°We knew that the last time they escaped, Suluth and the assassins used Wargs to escape. They also were quite good at using illusions to mask their movements and appearance. They did not, however, mask the scents of their mounts.¡±

    Matt frowned. ¡°So you used our Wargs to track their Wargs?¡±

    ¡°Yes, sire.¡± Karve glanced at Einreth, who was watching him with a disturbing level of intensity. ¡°I had kept two squads of the Eighth ready to respond to any sign of the intruders in Shadowfen. They led us to the mounts in the Citadel, and from there we made our way to the kitchens.¡±

    Einreth leaned forward. ¡°And you did not think it wise to let us know about these preparations, Captain?¡±

    Karve turned to look at her. He did not appear to be impressed by her snarl. ¡°I had taken the precautions before you arrived, Lady Einreth. While I believed it would be helpful, there was no guarantee. Further, the King had his own lifeguard, who I believed would be able to guard him in the event of a possible attack.¡±

    Her eyes narrowed. ¡°So you judged that it would be unnecessary.¡±

    He nodded, maintaining eye contact. ¡°Yes, Lady Einreth.¡±

    Matt let the silence stretch slightly and then broke back into the conversation. ¡°Regardless of that choice, Captain, it appears we owe you our lives.¡± Einreth glanced at Matt, and then nodded, an abashed expression on her face. ¡°You also brought yet another traitor to justice. Well done.¡±

    Karve grimaced and nodded. Undoubtedly, he was unhappy that one of his soldiers had caught Suluth in the kitchens rather than having the chance to fight her directly. ¡°She was apparently the one using the illusion to conceal your situation, sire. At the very least, when she died, it failed.¡±

    ¡°Such talent. If only she had used it to help the Kingdom instead of trying to kill us.¡± Matt shook his head. The statement was in part a bit of theater for the Orcs¡¯ sake, but it was true. To have that kind of ability and waste it repeatedly was disappointing, to say the least. ¡°At least we no longer have to worry about her striking at us from the shadows. Did any of her supporters escape?¡±

    ¡°Not this time, sire.¡± Karve smiled. ¡°This time, we caught them all. There will be no more attempts on your life from them.¡±

    ¡°That is very good to hear.¡± Matt pinched the bridge of his nose, trying to massage away the pressure between his eyes. ¡°Is there any other news I need to hear?¡±

    Karve hesitated and then shook his head. ¡°No, my liege. I am expecting a messenger to arrive from Redspire tomorrow, but aside from that, there is nothing.¡±

    Einreth snorted. ¡°Are you sure, Captain? There is nothing else that has slipped your mind?¡±

    The Captain looked back at her. He smiled. ¡°No, Lady Einreth. I believe that is everything you need to know.¡±

    Matt smiled. ¡°Thank you Captain. Please go make sure that your wounds are cared for, and report back to me if there are any other complications.¡±

    Karve glanced back at him. ¡°I will, sire. I am also ready to turn over command to whoever you choose.¡±

    It was an interesting way of saying that Karve probably wanted some quality time with Shadowfen¡¯s finest doctors, but Matt shook his head. ¡°No, Captain. I¡¯m afraid you are going to remain in command. Get yourself fixed up¡ªI¡¯ll take care of mustering the troops¡ªbut when we march south, you¡¯re going to be in charge of the army. At least as my second in command.¡±

    Karve¡¯s unflappable expression was suddenly full of shock and alarm. ¡°Sire? The Lady Einreth¡ª¡±

    ¡°The Lady Einreth is the master of her Clan and House, Captain. She has responsibilities beyond the command of a portion of the army.¡± When Einreth looked about to protest, Matt raised an eyebrow at her. She subsided with a sour grunt; he was sorry that she didn¡¯t like the change, but he wanted a commander that wouldn¡¯t get randomly summoned back home in the middle of the campaign. ¡°You¡¯ve proved yourself a capable general, and I intend to use you as such. Am I understood, Margrave Karve?¡±

    His words hung in the air for a little while. Then Karve¡¯s jaw dropped. ¡°S-sire! I¡¯m only a¡ª¡±

    ¡°Captain that has helped me bring not one, but two different traitors to justice? Don¡¯t sell yourself short, Karve.¡± Matt gave him a level look. ¡°I need someone I can depend on to watch my back. Morteth and Grufen are serving elsewhere. You¡¯re who I need now.¡±

    Karve still seemed to be looking for an escape route. ¡°I-I thought that a Margrave needed to be a noble, sire. Not just a freeholder.¡±

    Matt smirked. ¡°If the Great Council decides that, then I have a tidy solution for it.¡± It took a moment for Karve to realize that he was talking to the one person who could instantly ennoble him. In point of fact, he already had; as a Margrave Karve held a noble title, whether he already had or not.

    Einreth was scowling at a nearby wall, and Matt went on in an elaborately casual tone of voice. ¡°Of course, as a Margrave you won¡¯t be able to participate in the Great Council or lead a House. Just in case there are any concerns about that.¡±

    She blinked, and her expression suddenly smoothed out as she realized exactly how much power she¡¯d have to surrender to receive the title Karve had just been given. Matt tried not to let his smirk grow wider, and he focused more closely on Karve. ¡°All you need to do is command my armies and continue to serve as you already have. Can I depend on you, Margrave Karve?¡±

    The Coldhearth Orc struggled for a moment, as if fighting for the right words. Then he let his shoulder slump with a resigned sigh. ¡°I knew you were going to be trouble for us. From the very first day. Did I ever tell you that?¡±

    ¡°Serves you right for letting Nikles beat on me so much.¡± Matt slapped Karve on the shoulder, and the Orc laughed. ¡°Now, I need you to choose a new Captain for the Eighth, and I need a report on how many troops we can take with us into the Grim Hollows. Morteth is going to begin his attack soon, if he hasn¡¯t already, and we won¡¯t have much time to get into position if we wait much longer.¡±

    Karve nodded. ¡°I will have the report to you by tomorrow, my liege.¡±

    Matt nodded back and then gestured for the Captain¡ªnow Margrave¡ªto go. Karve bowed, and then walked out of the room, looking only slightly dazed from his change in circumstances. He watched the Orc go for a moment and then turned back to Einreth.

    The leader of the Red Moons was still staring in the direction that Karve had gone. When Matt cleared his voice, she seemed to blink and return to the present. ¡°He seems to be a very capable soldier, my liege. Are you sure that he will still serve you well as a Margrave?¡±

    ¡°If he does half as good a job as a Magrave as he has as a Captain, then I¡¯ll consider it a worthy investment.¡± Matt shook his head. ¡°He¡¯s already saved my life repeatedly. I intend to encourage that kind of behavior. Wouldn¡¯t you say that¡¯s wise?¡±

    She snorted. ¡°I suppose so, sire.¡± Then her gaze drifted in the direction of the exit again. ¡°You mentioned he was not permitted to represent anyone in the Great Council, or to lead a House. Are there any other restrictions for someone with the title?¡±

    Matt studied her for a moment. ¡°Not particularly. They are to mostly function as military leaders and advisors to me, so the current restrictions are mostly to prevent my generals from being absorbed in politics, or the leaders of the Council being sent out on campaign.¡± It was also an effort to prevent a conflict of interest, of course. Military leaders who also started to gather political power were rarely satisfied with ¡®just¡¯ controlling the armies. He didn¡¯t want to leave the Kingdom with a perfect setup for a new tyrant to rise, after all.

    Einreth didn¡¯t appear to be considering any of those possibilities, however. She was still looking at the closed door, her expression thoughtful. Then she shook herself. ¡°I will have to watch him closely, then. He may do well, but he likely will need guidance in the ways of noble society.¡±

    It was hard not to crack a wide smile. He was starting to think that Einreth had a very different picture of the guidance she intended to give than what she implied; if things turned out well, maybe the rumors about Einreth chasing after him would go away on their own. ¡°I¡¯m sure he would appreciate your advice, Lady Einreth.¡±

    She gave him a brief, suspicious glance, but he kept his expression neutral. Then she nodded, and Matt congratulated himself on yet another victory¡ªthough he actively wished Karve luck. Things were going to be very, very interesting for the former Captain in the future. Poor fool.

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    After the shock of the assassination attempt and Suluth¡¯s death, Shadowfen appeared to settle back into a more comfortable rhythm. The nobles of the city had been reluctant to visit him at first¡ªthe fact that one of their own had just attempted to kill him had understandably tainted their view of his attitude towards them¡ªbut eventually they began to extend their invitations. Matt welcomed them to his rooms in the Citadel where he was lodged; the lifeguard had to be instructed to let them pass without a heavy search after the first couple of days.

    Fortunately, the news from the rest of the Kingdom was almost as encouraging as the removal of the threat Suluth had represented. The messenger from the capitol had arrived the next day, as Karve had promised, and carried the news that the troops he¡¯d expected to join him in Shadowfen were only a handful of days away. They included not just the members of the Irregulars that he¡¯d requested from Grufen, but also the soldiers from the Frost Elves that the former rebels had promised him. It was very nearly an entire new army in itself, and it would give him a decisive edge when it came to fighting Teblas in the Grim Hollows.

    The other news that the messenger brought seemed to indicate that the conflict with the final rebel would happen sooner rather than later. Morteth would have received the banners of Hill Guard at least three days ago; the Gnomish soldiers had passed through Redspire on their way east, and had been making good time. Unless something else had gone very wrong, it would also mean that Morteth would start his campaign into the Copper Hills within the next handful of days.

    As soon as Morteth moved, messengers would be moving across the Grim Hollows to reach Teblas¡¯ camp. They would bring news that would drag him back across the swamps and mires to try to rescue his homeland¡ªand put the rebel right where Matt wanted him. He just needed to move before Teblas could cross the Hollows, and intercept the rebels short of their homeland.

    Move too early, and the messengers might warn Teblas and convince him to turn north to attack Shadowfen instead. If he moved too late, Teblas might actually reach the Hills, where it would be much harder to dig him out of the forts and familiar terrain there. It was a narrow window, but one that he felt he would be able to reach.

    All he had to decide on now was the spot where he would try to meet Teblas and bring him down.

    He was still looking over his maps three days after the assassination attempt when a knock came at the door of his study. Matt glanced up at the lifeguards, who peered outside. They nodded, and he sighed. ¡°Come in.¡±

    To his surprise, Tanya stepped through the door. She seemed far calmer than when he had seen her last; she had survived the assassination attempt without so much as a hole in her dress, but her eyes had still been wild, and she had nearly snapped off another Spell when a lifeguard had reached out a hand to help her.

    Now she seemed extra calm, and she seemed like she had recovered some of her usual poise. Matt wasn¡¯t entirely sure if he was happy about that fact or not, but she had saved his life. Supposedly, that was worth a little gratitude. ¡°Tanya. Good to see you.¡±

    She smirked. ¡°Isn¡¯t it though?¡± Tanya took another step into the room, peering at the table where he was scouring the maps again. ¡°Still planning your campaign in the south?¡±

    Matt nodded. ¡°Yeah. I just need to find the best site for a battleground¡­¡± He trailed off as he examined the swamp-infested terrain one more time. Then he shook his head. ¡°Sorry. It¡¯s been difficult to not get too focused.¡±

    ¡°Understandable. You don¡¯t want to get yourself killed, after all.¡± She gave him a wry smile. Then she grew serious again. ¡°I came by to let you know that I¡¯m going to be heading back to Redspire with my attendants.¡±

    He blinked. ¡°You¡¯re sure?¡± After she had fought so hard to stay near him, she was going back on her own? It seemed too good to be true. ¡°Are you sure the road will be safe enough? I know Karve said he found all of Suluth¡¯s troops, but if there¡¯s even a few left¡­¡±

    She rolled her eyes. ¡°Your reinforcements arrived today. That means that a thousand or so soldiers just went down that road. I¡¯m sure any bandits have found somewhere else to be.¡±

    Matt fixed her with a stare. ¡°All the same, I would feel better if I sent a few lifeguards with you. To make sure your journey isn¡¯t blocked by something we didn¡¯t think would be there.¡±

    Tanya opened her mouth to deny the help¡­and then nodded. ¡°You¡¯re right. We¡¯ve had enough surprises on this trip to last me quite a while.¡± She grinned. ¡°Of course, I might have a few pieces of art that I need to protect as well. The Goblins were quite anxious to make sure their pieces reach the museum first.¡±

    He groaned and closed his eyes. How had the headache come back so fast? ¡°You really think it¡¯ll already be done? That thing is still going to take months to build.¡±

    ¡°Maybe, but at least we¡¯ll have it started.¡± Tanya spread her hands and twirled a little. ¡°From what I hear, the nobility are already lining up to contribute to it. It¡¯ll be the envy of the Kingdom, for sure.¡±

    ¡°As long as we don¡¯t go bankrupt first.¡± He glared at her a little, but he couldn¡¯t force any heat into it. ¡°Tanya, I never did thank you for what you did.¡±

    She raised her eyebrows. ¡°Well, I¡¯m glad you appreciate the artwork, I guess.¡±

    Matt snorted. ¡°You know what I meant.¡±

    Her grin faded a little, and she looked away. She took a few steps towards the study¡¯s window. ¡°Yeah, I guess I do.¡±

    A silence fell, and Matt floundered while she stared out over the ringed walls of Shadowfen. Was he supposed to reassure her? Tell her that her guilt or feelings would fade? He knew what a book would tell him to say, but this wasn¡¯t some fairytale. Some of the assassins she¡¯d hit had died long before a knife reached them. Tanya hadn¡¯t just saved him; she¡¯d killed for him.

    As he stood there, still half-frozen with indecision, Tanya spoke up. ¡°Tell me it¡¯s going to be worth it.¡±

    He stared at her long enough that she turned from the window and glared at him. ¡°What?¡±

    Tanya drew in a short breath and let it out in a huff. ¡°I had to watch you kill people. I had to do it too. Not just because they were trying to kill you. Not even because they were probably going to try to kill me.¡± She looked away, and her jaw worked for a moment. ¡°They were trying to break what you were working so hard to make. To stop you from building this place into something different.¡±

    When she looked back at him, her eyes were bright with unshed tears. He couldn¡¯t quite tell if they were from sadness or rage, but they both would have fit well enough. ¡°So tell me I wasn¡¯t wrong to do it. To do that to them, and not feel a thing when I did. Tell me what you¡¯re going to build will be worth all of it.¡±

    Matt stared at her a moment longer. Then he nodded. ¡°Okay, Tanya. It will be worth it.¡± He saw her open her mouth, and he held up a hand. ¡°But I can¡¯t just tell you that. Let me show you. Come with me.¡±

    Matt led Tanya out of the Citadel and into a small courtyard.

    It was a plain, barren place beside the Warg kennels, a spot tramped on and passed through by every messenger, Shadow Hunter, and Warg Rider in the fortress. The hardpacked earth seemed closer to cement than soil, but it would be perfect for what Matt had planned.

    He sent the lifeguard to clear a decent sized space, giving him enough room for the demonstration. Tanya watched him from the side, with a small smile on her face and a shake of her head like she already knew what he had planned. It made him wonder for a moment if his attempt was going to help her feel better, or if it would just be an empty gesture.

    Matt shoved his doubts aside and started constructing the framework inside him for the Haunted Dust Spell. It gathered easily in his mind; he¡¯d been practicing with those techniques every day. He¡¯d even started carrying around a bag of dirt with him, just to avoid having nothing to work with in another situation like the assassination attempt, and Haunted Dust seemed like the most useful technique to use with it.

    A small crowd had started to gather around the space. Karve and Einreth had appeared from somewhere; the newly appointed Margrave had been showing the Orcish noblewoman something in the stables, and the commotion of the lifeguard clearing the ground had attracted their attention. Some of the nearby soldiers, grooms, and even a noble or two from the Goblin Houses were also watching. Maybe they¡¯d share what they saw, maybe they wouldn¡¯t. Either way, he¡¯d do it for Tanya, so he might as well begin.

    With only a hint of hesitation, Matt held out a hand. The magic flooded through him, filling the framework, and the dust of the courtyard began to turn and spin. He drew on the dust and muck from all over the yard, coalescing it into a single spinning disk of Earth that he could mold and shape to his will.

    Just like he had at the debris yard, he formed the city of Redspire. First as it was, and then as the improved version he hoped it would look like within five years. Then he pushed it forward again, and a murmur spread through some of the soldiers as more and more towers rose and the castle itself started to fade into the background as a modern city took shape around it.

    Ashpeak and Summerhall received similar treatment. Their walls expanded and were reformed, their people and buildings grew and rose above their former limits. By the time those two cities were done, he was starting to feel the strain, but he pushed himself further.

    Heartlight appeared, as he had seen it just a scant few days before. He heard Einreth say something to Karve, but he missed the Coldhearth Orc¡¯s response as he focused his strength¡ªand suddenly the Red Moon capitol began to change. The slave hovels disappeared and became a block of new buildings, similar to those he had planned for Redspire. A stadium rose beside the Keep, one that would rival the Colosseum back on Earth. On the opposite side, he called a gigantic building into being; it was a university of some kind, something he hoped would give the Orcs a different calling. He let the city build itself into a new future and then turned his attention to the last one.

    The murmurs spread and grew as Shadowfen itself grew into being. His control was already being tested, but he painstakingly formed its beautiful walls and the graceful slopes of the Citadel. Goblins were gathering in larger groups now, and he saw some of them peeking over the heads of their fellows at what he had built.

    So he pushed their city forward as well. More rings appeared outside of the initial three, opening the city further into the forest as if the city were some kind of flower. As the sprawl of the city increased, Matt placed new blocks of buildings inside of it, and then filled the space with parks and pools, gardens and arboretums. Even in the grit and dirt, it was clear that the city of Goblins was becoming a center of beauty and peace, a place where one could go to enjoy it as an oasis of safety amid the rest of the Darkwoods. Above it all rose the Citadel, though as more and more rings joined the city, other towers began to rise; places that stretched towards the sky in aspiration.

    Matt reached the end of his limits, and held the Spell there, trying to give Tanya and the others a chance to see his vision of the future. It was a dream of a time when the Kingdom was at peace and was able to tend to its own future without worrying about rebellions or invasions or usurpers. It was the kind of dream that Matt realistically knew would never happen; no kingdom in history ever enjoyed total peace for long, and fortune had a way of wrecking the plans of those that refused to anticipate bad turns.

    Yet it was the goal he was aiming for, not only for the cities themselves, but for their people, too. In the cities he was showing them, there would be no serfs, no slaves, no war prisoners. There would only be a free people, one that could trust its leaders and work together towards a better legacy. It would be a world of true magic, and one he¡¯d be proud to leave behind.

    He kept the images of those five cities going long enough for Tanya to stride forward and inspect them. She stretched his tolerance by poking at them a little, making the cycling dirt and dust grow hazy as her fingers moved through the models.

    Then she turned to him and nodded. He waited until she¡¯d stepped back, and then let the dirt fall. Matt stared at the small cloud of dust that the collapsed models had left behind, panting slightly with the exertion. Apparently, the demonstration had taken a bit more out of him than he¡¯d expected.

    Tanya studied him for a moment and then grinned. ¡°You¡¯ll need to work on that some more, cowboy king. I want a better set of models next time. Maybe with a few more monuments and art galleries.¡±

    He gave her a sour glare. ¡°Why of course, Maiden. What else could I be busy with?¡±

    They exchanged false glares for a few more moments and then gave into the laughter underneath. Then Tanya headed to the stables, where her attendants were already waiting. He watched for a moment and then headed back upstairs. There was still a war to plan, after all.

 B2Ch17: March to the Forks

    Matt looked around the crowded room. The Matriarchs had been kind enough to point out to him that their strategy room in the Citadel could be used for his work. It was not a small place; a table the size of his whole apartment back on Earth filled one part of the space, while the rest was dominated by three tiers of benches where onlookers could watch. He¡¯d covered the table with a large map that showed the southern part of the Kingdom, with the terrain of the Grim Hollows square in the center. It had been lucky that the Matriarchs had been able to provide a fairly good sketch of the Hollows, though it wasn¡¯t too surprising; it bordered the Darkwoods, after all.

    With over thirty people in it, the meeting room was stretched to its already formidable capacity. The various Captains were discussing things with one another in a low, continuous murmur that filled the air. He could hear a variety of attitudes and tones in their voices. Some of them sounded eager and bloodthirsty; others were worried or concerned. A few were joking and laughing, while others exchanged sullen glares with rivals.

    The worst of the animosity seemed to be between the captains of the Irregulars and the Frost Elves. They had apparently marched down from Winterfast together, but the shared journey had not improved their attitude towards one another. Matt supposed it would be hard to forget the bloodshed between those former opponents¡ªsome of the Frost Elves were even eying Karve askance, given his role in capturing half of them during their rebellion¡ªbut the Irregulars weren¡¯t exactly helping things. He caught more than one freeholder-turned-militiaman laughing at the Winterknights and Skirmishers that were now technically their allies.

    Fortunately, he had an idea about how to unite all of the officers in the room. All he needed was to give them a new focus¡ªand he had the perfect task to bring them around.

    He cleared his throat, and that small sound was enough to cut through the chatter in the room. Silence fell as the Captains turned from their conversations and looked to where he was standing. Matt looked back at them for a moment and then spoke in a clear voice to make sure he could be heard at the back. ¡°Welcome to our planning meeting for the campaign against Lord Teblas and his rebels.¡±

    The announcement caused another ripple of murmurs through the room, and Matt paused until they had subsided again. ¡°If you are here, it is because your banner is going to accompany me on the march south to intercept Lord Teblas¡¯ army and destroy it once and for all. Our goal will be to catch him and his forces while they are crossing the marshlands, and keep them from reaching their home in the Copper Hills. Once those forces are killed, captured, or scattered, the remaining rebels in the Copper Hills should then surrender, and the last of the rebellions in our Kingdom will be over.¡±

    There was another mutter, this one sounding skeptical, and Matt looked over at the source. It was a Captain of the Red Guard, some of the regular soldiers that had come from the Red Moon Clan. ¡°Yes, Captain?¡±

    The Orc who had spoken looked back at him with an incredulous expression, as if he couldn¡¯t believe that Matt had addressed him. Then he stood and saluted. ¡°Sire. I was just saying that it was easier said than done. Lord Braden tried to stop the bastard last time the same way, sire.¡±

    Matt nodded. ¡°You are correct, Captain. At the same time, we have quite a few more troops than were available for Lord Braden.¡± He gestured to a small gathering of wooden figures that he had placed on the position of Teblas¡¯ camp, still in the Sortenmoors. ¡°When Braden and Teblas fought, Braden had about ten banners compared to Teblas¡¯ sixteen. This time, we¡¯ll be facing around twelve enemy banners¡­ and as you can see, we¡¯ll have about three times as many troops as Braden commanded.¡±

    A satisfied murmur ran through the group. It was clear they were looking forward to outnumbering the enemy for once, and many of them were especially interested in vengeance against Teblas. Several of the captains had been present at that last battle and had been forced to run to survive the disastrous result once Braden had ordered a retreat. Matt intended to make sure that catastrophe wasn¡¯t going to happen again.

    ¡°Teblas will be marching east in order to try to reach the Copper Hills. He¡¯ll have heard that Margrave Morteth is invading his home from the north; he¡¯ll want to get back quickly enough to reinforce his defenses and maybe hide there while we have to fight the Alliance of Light in the spring. If we can catch him before he successfully retreats, then we¡¯ll put an end to his resistance.¡±

    He looked around and saw nods from the rest of the room. When he looked back down at the map, he glanced at the cluster of figures off to the right, positioned in the northern portions of the Copper Hills. There hadn¡¯t been any messengers directly from Morteth; for all he knew, there had been some disaster there, and the invasion had completely stalled. If that was the case, he¡¯d need to attack the Copper Hills from the west himself, and hope that he could move quickly enough to accomplish something before the rebels decided to strike north at the Darkwoods or the Broken Hills. Both places would have garrisons, but he didn¡¯t want to underestimate Teblas a second time.

    ¡°The question is which path Teblas will use to return to the Hills. If we pick the wrong place, he may march right by us without us knowing, and then we¡¯ll have to dig him out of his hiding place fort by fort.¡±

    Another murmur of agreement rose from the captains, and Matt leaned forward to trace a path through the Grim Hollows. It wasn¡¯t an easy course; the entire area was riddled with bogs, small lakes, unbridged rivers, and untamed forests. The entire population of the Hollows was less than a sixth of Redspire itself. There were no cities, just a double handful of villages and hamlets that were scattered across the region. They would be more likely to find a hermit than a road all the way to the border of the Shining Plains, where the territory of the Alliance waited.

    ¡°This was the path Teblas followed on his way west to the Sortenmoors. If we believe he would follow the same course¡­¡±

    Matt broke off as a Grimfen Goblin abruptly cleared her throat and raised her hand. She was sitting next to Captain Snolt, who nodded at her encouragingly. He gestured for her to speak. ¡°Your pardon, sire, but he won¡¯t follow that path. Not in the middle of winter.¡±

    There was a rough murmur through the rest of the room, and Matt looked to Snolt as if inviting an explanation. The Captain grinned at him. ¡°My liege, Gwelfed¡¯s my best scout. She was born in the Grim Hollows, back before her family brought her to Shadowfen and taught her to be halfway civilized. I¡¯d recommend that you listen to her.¡±

    Gwelfed gave her supposed superior a quick glare, which gave Matt a moment to think about the situation. Snolt didn¡¯t exactly have a history of deception; the Goblin was nearly as outspoken and blunt as Karve was. Aside from that, the scouts of the Royal First had saved Matt on more than one occasion, back when he¡¯d led a raid against the Noble Races. If Gwelfed had been among those scouts, Matt needed to give her at least a chance to respond. ¡°Go ahead, Gwelfed. You were saying he won¡¯t take the same course?¡±

    The scout turned her attention back to him. ¡°Yes, sire. You see, if he takes the same route, he¡¯d need to go through Sellsen Pass. It¡¯s this switchback trail that goes back and forth between a big steep hill and a bog.¡±

    Matt nodded. ¡°Go on.¡±

    She blinked. ¡°In wintertime, that trail is going to be a nightmare to cross. You¡¯d have half your supplies and a quarter of your men ending up in the bog, and most of those aren¡¯t going to be able to get out again. If he takes that route, we probably won¡¯t even need to fight him, because his army¡¯s going to be half dead, anyway.¡±

    He turned his eyes back to the map, tracing along the path until he found the path she was talking about. It was a small section of the trail, but she was right. Going around it would take an extra week, and would probably result in him getting close enough to Shadowfen that the Goblins¡¯ scouts would find them. Not a course the rebels would likely pursue.

    Matt looked up. He forced a smile. ¡°Well spotted, Gwelfed. Captain Snolt is justly proud of having you in the Royal First.¡±

    The scout flushed with embarrassment, but Snolt just beamed and shook her by the shoulder. A murmur of disgruntlement ran through the captains of the Shadow Hunters; they might be loyal, but they were Blackleafs that likely didn¡¯t enjoy having a Low Folk scout get credit. He ignored them and turned back to the map, having to reconsider his plan on the fly.

    Originally, he¡¯d wanted to meet Teblas in the forest where Braden had fought him. The heavy vegetation made it an ideal ambush spot and had likely contributed to Braden¡¯s defeat. It would have been poetic to turn that same advantage against Teblas as he moved through the area, but obviously he¡¯d need to adapt to the change in circumstances.

    There were two other paths through the Grim Hollows he thought Teblas would take. One was a path that crossed bridge after bridge in an attempt to sprint straight for the Copper Hills; the other was slightly more roundabout, skirting the rivers and using a series of fords to move deeper through the Hollows. Both seemed equally likely, depending on whether Teblas was going to be bold or cautious. Both of them, however¡­

    Matt studied the paths for a moment longer, and then nodded. ¡°That being the case, I believe the best spot to meet Teblas would be here, in the Lakeland Forks.¡± He placed a wooden marker on the spot, marking a place where both of those courses met. Then he grinned. ¡°If Gwelfed approves, of course.¡±

    A wave of chuckles and low laughter spread through the gathered captains, and the Goblin flushed again. Despite her obvious discomfort, she still met Matt¡¯s eyes and nodded. He nodded back gratefully and made a note to personally thank both her and Snolt. Better to have to improvise in a meeting room than on a battlefield.

    Another captain, this time from one of the two banners of Bloodsworn, raised his hand. Matt paused slightly before nodding to the man; the Bloodsworn were considered the elite of the elite among the Red Moon warriors. Einreth had confidently stated that having one banner of them was worth three banners of Spears; Karve had quietly disagreed, but Matt had taken it as a statement of their importance in countering enemy heavy infantry at the very least.

    He nodded to the captain, who spoke with a grit-filled voice that would have indicated a heavy smoker back on Earth. ¡°The Forks is a good place for a battle, sire, but could the traitor simply retreat rather than face us? With so many banners of our own, it would be difficult to chase him down and bring him to battle.¡±

    Matt smiled. ¡°I agree. Under normal conditions, it would be difficult.¡± Then he tapped some of the wooden figures that were at Teblas¡¯ camp. ¡°Unfortunately for our opponent, most of his troops are made up of militia.¡±

    There was a snort from Captain Vorch and chuckles among the rest of the Irregular officers. ¡°I imagine they¡¯ll have a hard time running far, sire?¡±

    ¡°With all respect, Captain, you¡¯re right.¡± Matt shrugged. ¡°Especially since he¡¯d have to look like he was abandoning his homeland. We could either send our mounted troops forward to sweep the Irregular banners he abandons, or stay close enough to chase him back to the Sortenmoors. At that point his forces will start to desert, and the Copper Hills themselves might surrender, leaving him with no support.¡±

    ¡°At which point, he¡¯ll be just another bandit to hunt down and kill.¡± One of the Frost Elf Skirmisher captains leaned forward, studying the map. She seemed to ignore the sharp look from her fellow Frost Elf who was leading the Winterknights. ¡°Is there any risk that he might reach that location before us? It appears to be closer to him than it is to us.¡±

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    Matt nodded. ¡°Then we¡¯ll have to work hard to reach it first. The rough terrain between his camp and the Forks should give us the advantage, but all the same, I want to be headed south tomorrow. Are there any objections?¡±

    No one spoke up. He looked around to make sure that there wasn¡¯t anyone still willing to contribute. He only saw the usual mix of anticipation, worry, and distraction that he¡¯d come to associate with the start of a campaign.

    So he nodded and straightened up from the table. ¡°In that case, you¡¯re dismissed. Speak with Margrave Karve if you have any concerns, and be ready to march as soon as possible.¡±

    The next day, the armies of the Kingdom marched out to confront their foes.

    It was a heady moment. Matt was marching to battle at the head of the largest army he had ever commanded. True, Karve was still his second in command and seemed to be both ready and willing to deal with any problems that had cropped up in getting the troops marching, but ultimately, they were following their King into battle. However foolish that might have been of them, they actually trusted him to do what he had claimed he wanted to do.

    A part of him was still intimidated by that fact. He almost wanted to turn the entire thing over to Karve and then ride back to Redspire. Supervising the finishing touches on the sewage system in Redspire sounded much better than spending the last weeks of winter in the middle of a cold swamp, hunting a rebel army that would probably do its best to kill him, personally, before it was wiped out.

    At the same time, Matt knew that wasn¡¯t a possibility. A King had to lead, especially in war, and while he trusted Karve to make good decisions in combat, he knew the people would expect him to be at the forefront of the struggle. Standing back and letting others take the lead was only going to land him a bigger share of the blame if things went right. Even if things went wrong, people would start to wonder if they shouldn¡¯t just have someone more active in charge.

    So out he rode, with Nelson at the center of a knot of lifeguards. He was roughly at the center of the column, one that stretched as far as he could see along the winding road that would lead them through the Darkwoods and into the Hollows. Songs and creaking wagons filled the air with noise as they walked, making steady time towards their destination.

    The weather was grey and bitterly cold, with the clouds making a solid ceiling overhead that might as well have been made of stone. Matt worried that snow would fall and obscure the path even more, but he needn¡¯t have bothered. There was no ill weather beyond a continued icy wind that blew from the mountains in the east, and the soldiers appeared to be determined to ignore it as they forged ahead.

    By the end of the first two days, they had finally left the Darkwoods behind and entered the Hollows. It was there that the well-defined track of dirt they had followed began to fade into the surrounding tangle of woods and wetlands, making it harder for the army to continue forward. The trail remained, but it had dwindled to something where four people could barely walk abreast; the places for the army to camp grew more and more infrequent, often requiring his tired troops to spend time felling trees so that the army could have enough space to sleep amid the snow and lakes.

    The only really good sign as they marched was that on the dawn of the third day, the clouds finally broke. Blue sky filled the spaces between the branches, with the occasional patch of fast-moving cloud migrating their way west. Matt grinned at the sight, even with the continual chilly wind and the clinging winter mud. If he had to fight a battle, at least the heavens would be cheerful about it.

    His good humor wasn¡¯t isolated, either. The soldiers seemed to march with a bit more enthusiasm; he heard more songs echoing among the trees as they wended their way further to the south. Around noon, they reached a fork in the road that took them west and south, bringing them onto yet another narrow track that could barely be considered a cart trail.

    That afternoon, they passed one of the few villages in the Hollows, a remote place known as Vradelfeld. The ramshackle huts and rundown barns seemed to be in a perpetual state of decay, with snow piled high on their sagging roofs. Matt saw some of the villagers come out to watch the soldiers march past, though many of them chose to hide instead. He watched some of them staring at the troops. They were mostly a gaggle of brave Goblins, Imps, and Orcs, none of whom could have been older than ten, all gathered at the crooked wooden arch that marked the ¡®entrance¡¯ to their home.

    Matt hated the obvious poverty of the place; he¡¯d wager that half their children didn¡¯t live to see their first birthday. He made himself a promise to look into the healthcare available to the Kingdom as soon as he returned to Redspire. Sewage was well enough, but doctors would help fight disease just as easily. Perhaps the changes would even reach all the way out to this forsaken place.

    Karve, riding at his side, glanced at the children. He looked away for a second and then leaned over to speak to Snolt. The Copperflame Goblin looked back at the Orc, and then smiled. He lifted his sword skyward; it glinted in the winter sun. ¡°Sound off by ranks! For the Kingdom of Iron!¡±

    The soldiers around Matt lifted their weapons and cheered, a resounding shout that seemed to startle the onlooking children. As the next banner passed, they echoed the warcry, making the children jump again. Matt twisted in his saddle to look back as the third banner made themselves heard. By that point, the children were shouting back, waving sticks and open hands. Adults were peeking from windows. A few even started to wander out to join their children by the road, their expressions showing amazement and a hint of fear. One mother actually wrapped her arms around her child, a Goblin that seemed oblivious to her worries¡ªshe was too busy cheering.

    It was a sight that kept him a bit warmer as they continued on, marching through the marshlands to where they would wait for Teblas to meet his fate.

    They reached the Forks on the fourth day, while the morning was still fresh and clear.

    It was a rare clearing in the wetlands, a place where the rivers had branched and fanned out around a small delta of land. There had been a village in the place once, but it had apparently been the victim of either a raiding party or a bandit attack. With no survivors, it had been difficult to tell. The buildings they had left behind were decaying, just as they had been for the other village. It was impossible to tell whether age or intentional destruction had caused the dilapidation of the place, but either way had led to houses with collapsed roofs, to broken barns half-filled with snow, to buried wells with trees growing from them.

    The Forks was a quiet, haunted-seeming place. Matt didn¡¯t like the way his troops peered at it and muttered, but he had chosen the place for the ground, not the destroyed town. Maybe if there were any ghosts in the place¡ªdid such things exist in this strange world?¡ªthey would be appeased if he built a victory for the Kingdom in their home.

    Though rivers flowed freely around the Forks, none had been bridged. The reason why became obvious as his troops splashed their way through the cold water; somehow, none of them were more than knee deep, with many of them only at ankle height. A strange cluster of shining rock stood out in the middle of the source of the rivers, having somehow fractured the flowing water into a half dozen different, smaller tributaries. None of the streams rejoined each other until they drained into a deep bog further to the south.

    It made the Forks an odd sort of choke point, one that was wide enough to permit large amounts of combat, but narrow enough that it couldn¡¯t be avoided. Not that he really wanted a choke point. Such things were mostly useful for armies that needed to hold off superior numbers. Now that he finally held the advantage, Matt wanted as much open terrain as he could find so that he could cut off and surround Teblas¡¯ troops. The last thing he wanted was a spot for the rebels to hole up and force some kind of a siege.

    North of the Forks, the river was deep enough that it would have threatened even Nelson with being swept away. There were no bridges across it for about a day¡¯s march, a fact that Teblas would know well. To the south, the many creeks and brooks sunk their way into the Crenmarsh, a shifting morass of lakes, deep marshes, and mud that could swallow a thousand banners easily, all the way until it eventually shifted into the Grenlake further on. Again, no way across for quite a while.

    All of which meant that if the rebels wanted to continue east, they would have to cross here.

    Matt immediately started to set his troops in order. He sent some soldiers to set up camp north of the Forks, on the eastern bank of the river. It would give him a nice, sheltered spot where he could store their supplies and tents, keeping the rebels from easily launching a surprise attack. Others he ordered to dig in around the dead town and the rivers, sinking their shovels into the cold, waterlogged soil to create ditches and barriers of earth. He might not want to stay in his fortifications, but it would be better to have them and not need them, as opposed to needing them and not having them.

    While the infantry were digging in and setting up the camp, Matt ordered the cavalry to scout the nearby area for signs of the enemy. Just because he was confident that Teblas was coming this way didn¡¯t mean Matt knew when the rebels would appear. If he wasn¡¯t careful, the Leaffall Orcs would fall on his unaware army and kill half of them before they even had weapons in their hands.

    Teblas would do it too. He was a vicious, clever leader, one that took as much pleasure in personally braving danger as he did in destroying unworthy foes. Matt had warned Braden not to face Teblas personally, and however much he¡¯d meant the warning as something of a taunt, it had been good advice. Matt had dug back through the records and found evidence of Teblas having won nearly a hundred separate duels with various warriors, both in and outside of actual military action. For nearly three years, the Red Sorceress had used Teblas as a personal enforcer of sorts, and what she couldn¡¯t clear away using her magic and Grim Hounds, he usually cut down with his blade.

    Matt had spent much of the past few days reading about the man, as well as studying accounts of every battle the Orc had ever led in. As Sun Tzu had said, ¡®If you know the enemy and know yourself, you need not fear the result of a hundred battles.¡¯ Even if it was just one fight, Matt had to make sure it was managed perfectly.

    So once he had memorized the terrain, Matt had turned to learning everything he could about his opponent.

    What he learned was both encouraging and distressing. Teblas, in war, was an honorable combatant. He showed no signs of breaking truces or ignoring treaties. When an enemy crossed him, Teblas would attempt to destroy them, but aside from his rebellion, there was no sign that the Orc had a tendency to backstab and betray. Those facts held out the hope that if Teblas was intimidated enough, he might actually be convinced to surrender for the sake of his men.

    Even better, Teblas was personally extremely loyal to those he knew. His rebellion actually stemmed from those facts; he¡¯d seen Matt as an outsider turned tyrant who had murdered his lover, the Red Sorceress, and had wanted to win freedom from Redspire for his people. There were multiple accounts of him charging into danger to save friends and allies; there was even one account of Teblas riding to Lord Braden¡¯s rescue during a battle against the Alliance to the south.

    Unfortunately, there was every sign that Teblas was a brave man. He had a history of charging into battle, heedless of his own safety. There were many times that he¡¯d managed to turn the tide of a battle by plunging him and his most elite fighters into the enemy ranks. At least a dozen times, he¡¯d managed to injure an enemy general personally; three times, he¡¯d actually killed the enemy leader and sent the opposition into a panicked retreat. The time he¡¯d wounded Lord Braden had been among those achievements. Teblas had caught Braden in the open and dismounted in order to challenge him to individual combat. After he¡¯d won, he¡¯d even let the Bloodsworn drag the defeated Red Moon scion away rather than finishing him.

    That flair for dramatic, personal strikes meant he might be able to be lured into a trap, but it also meant that there was little likelihood that he could be frightened easily. Certainly, he wouldn¡¯t blink an eye at being outnumbered; if he was stubborn enough to bring things to battle, then Matt would have to hammer his forces enough to force him to recognize the pointless nature of the fight. Doing that without losing the forces he¡¯d need to pacify the Sortenmoors and fight the Alliance of Light¡¯s invasion was going to be a trick that he didn¡¯t know how he was going to pull off.

    The nature of Teblas¡¯ forces might make it easier. As he¡¯d said, the majority were peasant militia, likely poorly organized and led. True, they had received plenty of battle experience in the Sortenmoors, but raids and flanking maneuvers would be different compared to a pitched battle. If he could convince them to run, then the rest would be easier to deal with.

    Not that Teblas¡¯ veteran forces were that much easier. The Defiants were a band of archers, wielding longbows that any Englishman would have been envious of. They were known for launching salvos of arrows deep into the enemy ranks, and for channeling a shield of wind to guard themselves from projectiles fired at them in response. Even more dangerous would be the banners of Leapers that Teblas led personally. They used Air magic to launch themselves into shocking leaps that could carry them over obstacles or past battlelines, giving them the chance to plunge into the heart of the army¡¯s ranks.

    Still, as intimidating as they might be, they were still mortal. Matt remained confident of his position and knew that he could cover the entirety of the Forks against Teblas¡¯ troops. If the Leaffall Orc simply ignored the facts of the situation and charged, Matt¡¯s army would surround and crush him. All they had to do was wait, and the enemy would come right to him.

    He just wished it would all be unnecessary. After the deaths at Heartlight and Shadowfen, and the wars fought in the north and east before that, all of the destruction and death was starting to weigh on Matt. Why was all of this necessary? What did it gain anyone to die in cold water and bloodstained snow? Why couldn¡¯t he have been given a nation to rule in peace?

    It was those questions that tormented him as he walked among his troops. He tried to distract himself by using his magic to help them burrow into the earth, but even seeing their gratitude and easing the rumbling energy inside him didn¡¯t help much.

    Sleep was hard to find that night, and his dreams, when they finally came, were tormented by arguments where versions of himself shouted at each other, each one making an impossible case for how the future should be forged¡ªall while the world burned in the background.

 B2Ch18: Diplomacy

    He woke on the day after they arrived at the Forks and walked out of his tent to find a fairly decent battlefield waiting for him.

    Between his magic and the industry of his men, there was a broad section of earthworks that stretched across most of the Forks. Trees had been felled on the opposite side of the earthworks, with some of the smaller trunks being sharpened into stakes and hammered into some of the forward ditches to catch enemies as they charged. He could see some of his men still hard at work, digging up more ground to the south, while others stood at the edges of the dead town and looked out across the field for signs of the enemy.

    Karve met him as he started to head for the nearest campfire. The smell of bacon and bread was beckoning him, but he nodded to the Margrave as he drew close. ¡°Good morning, Margrave. How are things progressing?¡±

    The Orc looked around at the progress of the field and the organized chaos of the camp. He snorted. ¡°We¡¯ve come a decent way, sire, but I¡¯d be more comfortable if I knew where the bastard was coming from.¡±

    ¡°Still no news from the scouts?¡±

    ¡°Had a few of them come in this morning, but most seem to be taking their time. Starting to think we should give them explicit orders about how far they need to go in this cursed wetlands.¡±

    Matt gave Karve a grin. ¡°Why Margrave, you sound like you don¡¯t appreciate living in this beautiful swamp! You can¡¯t tell me it isn¡¯t a change of pace from all those crowded cities.¡±

    The sarcasm in Matt¡¯s voice went unnoticed. Karve grimaced. ¡°I¡¯d prefer a place where I could dig a trench without having it fill with water before I get more than an arm¡¯s length into the soil, sire. A warm bed not on the ground would do nicely too.¡±

    Despite himself, Matt laughed. He slapped Karve on the shoulder as they drew near the cookfires. ¡°I can¡¯t say you¡¯re wrong, Margrave, but I¡¯m surprised! I thought Coldhearth Orcs were legendary for their heartiness.¡±

    Karve gave him a cool glance. ¡°Just because I¡¯m tough doesn¡¯t mean I want to suffer, my liege. Besides, anyone who prefers waiting out in the snow for Headhunter Teblas to come find them is a little too far gone to give a command, wouldn¡¯t you say?¡±

    Matt looked at Karve in surprise. ¡°Headhunter Teblas? I didn¡¯t know he had that title.¡±

    The Margrave shrugged. ¡°It¡¯s an unofficial one. Kind of like a nickname, you could say.¡± Karve stepped up to the chow line and snagged a hunk of bread. ¡°It wasn¡¯t wise to mention it around him. Usually led to a duel, and a quick death.¡±

    ¡°I see.¡± Matt grabbed his own loaf, smiling in amusement at the awed look on the cook¡¯s face. The camp always seemed to be a bit surprised at the fact that he ate what his men ate. Perhaps they were used to more high-quality supplies, but Matt liked to think that sharing the rations meant his men would feel closer to him¡ªthat, and the general rations wouldn¡¯t be as easy to slip poison into. At least, not if they were specifically trying to kill him.

    Karve continued in a low voice. ¡°He really did earn that title, by the way. Really likes to go after the enemy leaders.¡± He gave Matt a level look. ¡°Thank you, again, for making sure I was one of those, by the way.¡±

    Matt smirked. ¡°I wouldn¡¯t have wanted you to miss out on the fun, Karve.¡±

    ¡°So you do remember I have a real name! How nice.¡±

    He was still searching for a reply to his newest Margrave¡¯s jibe when he heard a horn blow from one of the sentries in the abandoned town. Both he and Karve looked at one another. Then they grabbed a bit of bacon and started for the river.

    It wasn¡¯t far to jog, even with all the mud and snow. Matt made it while the first echoes of the horn were rolling away across the bright blue sky. The day had begun with an absolutely beautiful morning; there wasn¡¯t a cloud in the sky, and the sun could be seen clearly through the unclothed branches of the Grim Hollows, brightening the eastern horizon.

    Matt only had eyes for the west, however. He saw a scout on a small Warg, riding for everything she was worth across the unbroken snow between the Forks and the deeper forest. There was a whole pack of Orcs on a new kind of beast he hadn¡¯t remembered seeing before, all charging after her. They were like horses, but with flatter, wider faces and a heavier build. Most striking were the pair of horns, gnarled like a goat, but pointed straight forward like a bull. ¡°What are those?¡±

    ¡°Bicorns, sire.¡± Karve¡¯s voice was grim. He was already gesturing to the nearest soldiers. ¡°They¡¯re what the Leapers ride. Whoever that scout is, she¡¯s found the enemy. We¡¯ll just have to see if¡­¡±

    His voice trailed off as a double handful of Wargs burst from the lines and crossed the fords. They streamed out across the snow towards the incoming scout. Matt thought he could recognize Snolt and a handful of his Riders from the Royal First, while the rest seemed to be Shadow Hunters who wanted to try to score the first kills of the engagement.

    The scout saw them coming, and abandoned her wild dodging pursuit for a full-on sprint towards her rescuers. She wasn¡¯t alone in noticing; behind her, the Leapers put on their own burst of speed, trying to narrow the distance so that they could put their lances and swords to work. It turned into a brutal, uncompromising race, one that would either end in death or redemption.

    Matt watched as the Leapers started to draw close, the steam rising from their ugly, powerful mounts¡ªand then suddenly their riders were twisting away from the oncoming Wargs and heading for the trees. For a moment, it seemed like Snolt and the others were going to give chase, but as soon as the Leapers disappeared into the trees, they all curved back and started to lope alongside their smaller cousin that the scout was riding. The whole group slowed to a much more manageable pace, and Matt grinned with triumph at the fact that his soldier had returned safely.

    He finished off his breakfast with a quick couple of bites, and then hurriedly wiped his fingers on his surcoat. ¡°Come on. Let¡¯s go see what they¡¯ve found.¡±

    ¡°Their whole army is west of here. Maybe another couple of hours of marching.¡± Gwelfed seemed half dead where she stood, utterly exhausted by her narrow escape. She grimaced and leaned back against her Warg, which was still flopped flat in the snow. Steam rose from the beast as it panted, its tongue lolling out to try to vent just a little more heat. Matt was no expert, but he could tell that the animal wasn¡¯t going to be useful for much, not for the next few hours, at least.

    Gwelfed seemed barely any better, for that matter, but the Grimfen Goblin seemed determined to give her report, no matter the cost. Matt could only appreciate the dedication as she continued.

    ¡°I saw at least four banners of archers, and at least two of the cavalry on those bicorns.¡± She paused, and Matt nodded. Those numbers roughly matched what he¡¯d expected Teblas to have left of his veterans.

    Then she caught her breath enough to continue. ¡°There were more than six banners of militia, though. I¡¯d say closer to eight, maybe ten. I couldn¡¯t see the whole army before they caught me. Half of it was tucked away in a valley that I almost missed. Tried to see a bit more, but they came out of the trees, and they nearly had me as it was.¡±

    Matt felt a spark of concern. If Teblas had gathered more forces from somewhere, it made it that much more likely that he would fight instead of running or surrendering. A battle would mean casualties on both sides, casualties that he could ill afford. He needed every soldier, especially with the Alliance only a handful of weeks away from beginning their promised invasion.

    Still, he wouldn¡¯t have had a clue about any of it without Gwelfed¡¯s efforts. He forced himself to smile at her. ¡°Thank you, Gwelfed. You¡¯ve more than earned your reputation today.¡± Snolt was hovering nearby, clearly worried about his scout, and Matt nodded to him as well. ¡°Captain, she¡¯s all yours. If we make it through this, she might just be up for the Award of Valor too.¡±

    Gwelfed perked up at the mention of the Award; at the moment, there were only ten people with the medal to their name, four of whom were dead. He¡¯d handed out those rewards after the battle of Folly¡¯s End, and from what he could tell, every single soldier wanted to be the next to earn both the medal and the coin attached to it. Despite his hopes, Matt was starting to feel like he would need to hand out quite a few more after today¡¯s struggle.

    All around him, the soldiers rushing into position. He wanted them to be ready for when Teblas approached the Forks, so that he would give the best and most intimidating perspective of what was waiting for the rebels. If he could shake their confidence early, then it would give him the chance to force some to desert, or maybe even beg Teblas to give up without fighting. Which would be stronger, his courage or his personal loyalty?

    There would be only one way to find out.

    Teblas¡¯ forces arrived at the Forks only three hours later¡ªslightly slower than Gwelfed¡¯s estimate, but perhaps the Leaffall Orcs were a little slow to rise that day. Either that, or maybe Teblas had waited for his patrol to come back and report on what they had found. Matt had actually been worried that the Orcs would run when they heard about his army waiting for them, but luckily it appeared Teblas was still the brave and bold leader he¡¯d read about. Rebel or not, he wasn¡¯t going to withdraw without at least facing Matt¡¯s forces.

    The Orcs remained in the trees, lining up in a formal wall. Matt could pick out the veterans easily enough; the ones riding bicorns stood out the most, their beasts tall and dark amid the snowy undergrowth. Defiants were a bit harder to tell apart; aside from their longbows and heraldry, they didn¡¯t seem all that much different from the unruly mobs of militia that had accompanied them.

    Unfortunately, Gwelfed hadn¡¯t been exaggerating their numbers after all. If anything, she¡¯d guessed low. There were at least ten banners of the peasant-soldiers lined up across from the Forks, their mixture of weapons and armor brandished against the clear blue sky. None of them seemed too worried about the forces facing them, but maybe the relative weight of the armies hadn¡¯t sunk in yet.

    Additional militia or no, Teblas was still outnumbered, and greatly outclassed. He¡¯d be facing nearly two-to-one odds, and the grand majority of his troops would be peasants without the magic and equipment of Matt¡¯s more veteran forces. The rebel might hope for a strike that somehow allowed him to kill Matt and demoralize his army, but it would be a thin strategy to lean on. Matt sat on Nelson at the center of his lines and waited, hoping to see some sign that Teblas was either trying to withdraw or give up the fight.

    Then, as if to give him a spark of hope, a bicorn rider stepped forward from Teblas¡¯ lines.

    The Orc carried a plain grey banner. Apparently, grey had taken the place of a white flag in this world; too many heraldries used white for it to be recognized consistently. Matt saw the Orc dismount about halfway between the lines, and plant the flagpole in the soft earth. It took a few moments to make sure that it would stay upright, and then the Orc was riding back to his own lines.

    Matt watched for a few more moments, recognizing the gesture. Teblas wanted to parlay. At the very least, he wanted to speak to Matt, which was more than most of his opponents had done so far. A part of him was instantly suspicious; killing a King under parlay was almost as old as a parlay itself. At the same time, Headhunter Teblas had never broken parlay in his whole life. Would he start now, on this cold winter morning?

    He shook his head. ¡°Margrave Karve, send out our own banner. We¡¯ll see what the traitor has to say.¡±

    Karve nodded and gave the order. Then he looked at Matt with concern. ¡°You have the right to bring your lifeguard, my liege. Them and a few others, I¡¯m sure.¡±

    This narrative has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. If you see it on Amazon, please report it.

    ¡°Let¡¯s keep it to four lifeguards, you, and myself, Margrave.¡± Matt smiled a little to himself. ¡°And let¡¯s try not to start anything while we are out there. I¡¯ll tell the lifeguard to ignore any snakes at the very least.¡±

    The Orc¡¯s expression was a bit baffled; apparently, the legends of King Arthur hadn¡¯t made it to this world somehow. Matt turned his eyes back to the banner, wondering what it really represented. Was it a sign of peace, or merely a formality before the war truly began? Either way, he suspected that the day would be one to remember.

    Teblas was already waiting for Matt by the time his party was organized and set out across the snow.

    The Orc had ridden out with eight companions of his own, which led to an immediate argument among Matt¡¯s own advisors. Karve was a clear shoo-in for attendance, but Lady Einreth had argued for the right to meet the man as well. She¡¯d been denied the right to confront her brother¡¯s murderer when Karve had killed Lady Suluth. Einreth didn¡¯t want to miss the chance to face the one that had wounded Braden in the first place.

    Matt had finally agreed, under the condition that she not bring a weapon along. Several captains had argued for the right to attend as well¡ªnotably, Snolt had not been among them¡ªbut Matt turned them down. Instead, he decided to bring along six of his lifeguard, all of whom were suddenly intent on making sure that all of their weapons and magic were ready to strike.

    They didn¡¯t think his joke about the snake was funny either.

    As Matt approached, still riding Nelson, Teblas finished setting up the tent he¡¯d brought with him. It wasn¡¯t a very big one, but it was enough to give a bit of shelter from the sun. The same pair of servants that had set up the tent had also brought a pair of chairs and a table; they set them up and then retreated into the back of the tent as Matt dismounted. Teblas¡¯ other six companions had simply watched, the hoods of their cloaks drawn up to conceal their faces.

    Matt spent a moment checking over Nelson, making sure the warbuck was comfortable. After all, it looked likely that the meeting would take quite a bit of time. Karve remained mounted; at the first sign of trouble, the Margrave would ride back to the lines and take command of the army. Two of the lifeguard remained with him, holding the reins of the various mounts and watching the servants from afar.

    The other four accompanied Matt and Lady Einreth as they walked up the small hill to meet their enemy.

    Teblas, as he had during Matt¡¯s coronation, wore dueling armor. This time, however, it looked far, far more functional. The set he¡¯d worn at the coronation had already seen hard use, but this version had clearly been designed for heavy combat¡ªand used extensively in that role ever since. The Orc himself was heavily built, and he watched Matt approach from behind the grill of his helmet.

    Matt reached up and took off his helmet. He stared at Teblas a moment and then handed it to one of his lifeguards. ¡°I don¡¯t suppose you¡¯d agree to a handshake, Lord Teblas.¡±

    Teblas, standing beside the chair opposite Matt, tilted his head a little. Then he laughed, a harsh bark of incredulous hatred. ¡°Why not?¡±

    The Orc extended his hand, and the figures on both sides of the meeting tensed. Matt raised an eyebrow and took Teblas¡¯ hand. There was a terrible strength behind the Orc¡¯s grip as they shook, but it didn¡¯t seem like Teblas tried to crush his fingers. A minor point in the man¡¯s favor.

    ¡°Well. You aren¡¯t as weak as you once were.¡±

    The compliment almost took Matt off guard. He smiled. ¡°I¡¯m glad you think so.¡±

    They released each other, and then sat, the wooden chairs creaking beneath them. For a long moment, they studied one another. Matt thought through the various ways he¡¯d want to start the conversation. The arguments he¡¯d use to convince the man to give up his rebellion, to spare his men the battle, to conserve all the strength of both sides to fight the Alliance. If he could just be persuasive enough¡­

    Then Teblas spoke first. ¡°Were the messengers false, then? Or have you really begun a campaign against the Copper Hills?¡±

    Matt considered lying and recognized the lack of gain in it. ¡°They were honest, Lord Teblas. Margrave Morteth is leading his forces against your home as we speak.¡±

    Teblas tilted his head to the other side. ¡°Margrave? I¡¯d heard of this title, but I do not know it.¡±

    ¡°It is a way that I honor those of my people who excel in war. They are my advisors in combat.¡± He neglected to mention Karve¡¯s new title. Despite his teasing before, he didn¡¯t actually want his new Margrave in Teblas¡¯ crosshairs. ¡°Morteth proved himself against our other enemies.¡±

    ¡°Other than me, you mean.¡± Teblas leaned forward, the chair creaking beneath him. ¡°That¡¯s why you are here. Because we are enemies, and you wish to kill me.¡±

    Matt shook his head. ¡°I don¡¯t wish to kill you, Teblas. I never did.¡± Teblas leaned back, his posture shouting contempt. ¡°You¡¯ve made it necessary for me to do so. I warned you when I took the throne. I cannot allow you to rebel and suffer no consequence.¡±

    Teblas had straightened up again at the words. He glanced at the others in the tent. ¡°So we will fight.¡±

    ¡°A wise man once said, ¡®the supreme art of war is to subdue the enemy without fighting.¡¯¡± Matt leaned forward and tapped the table in front of him. ¡°You can see the field as well as I can. I have twice your numbers, and I am ready to fight you here today. If we fight, men on both sides will die. You won¡¯t escape, and your friends and companions will be slaughtered.¡±

    Across from him, Teblas folded his arms. ¡°I see no way around that result, tyrant.¡±

    Matt ignored the epithet. ¡°Whatever you think I am, I am not a bloodthirsty monster, Teblas. I do not want to kill your men. If anything, I want them to stand with me against our enemies in the Alliance.¡±

    Teblas cocked his head to the side again. A hint of humor had filled his tone. ¡°The Alliance?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ve already made peace with the Coalition, and the Noble Races agreed to a truce, but the Alliance still seeks our destruction. Until I can stop them, all our homes are in danger.¡± Matt shook his head. ¡°What good does it do me to kill men who could help me defend their lands from invasion? Why should I punish men whose leaders led them astray?¡±

    He saw Teblas slowly clench his fists, heard the armor creak gently. ¡°So, what do you propose? That we all just join with you against the Alliance?¡±

    ¡°No.¡± Matt shook his head. ¡°You surrender. Your men will be given parole, and likely called to help defend the Kingdom against the invasion. Your serfs will be made freeholders, sworn to the Kingdom and not the nobility, just the same as I¡¯ve done in Winterfast. They receive enough land to make them independent and free.¡±

    ¡°Free from all except for you.¡± Teblas uncrossed his arms and leaned forward again. His bulk seemed to loom over Matt, and anger filled his voice. ¡°And what would you do with me, tyrant? Would you swear me to your service, the way you would the serfs?¡±

    Matt looked back at him. Once again, a convenient lie was possible¡­ but he thought that neither of them would really have any use for it. ¡°You would be taken to the Tower of Blood. The Great Council would decide your fate.¡±

    Teblas snorted. ¡°That pack of mangeflies would sentence me to death just for a nod from you. We both know that. Why should I let you smash me down the way you did Old Tek?¡±

    ¡°That depends.¡± Matt glanced at the servants at the back of the tent. ¡°How many of your men are you going to kill defying that fate? How many more of my men are you going to murder with your stubbornness?¡±

    ¡°Murder? You speak to me of murder?¡± Teblas¡¯ voice nearly trembled with rage. Matt couldn¡¯t easily see his face, but he imagined the Orc¡¯s features twisted with hatred. ¡°You have murdered your way across our Kingdom, outsider! How many of the leaders of the High Clans still live now? How many have you arranged to die, for your convenience?¡±

    It was a fairly uncomfortable question, actually. In all honesty, only Nuramesh and Grufen were left, and only one of them was still the leader of their Clan. The others had all either been assassinated, killed in combat, or executed.

    Matt grimaced. ¡°Had they been loyal, they would all have lived. Had they not plotted to murder and rebel and betray, they would have lived. Do not hold me responsible for their decisions, Teblas¡ªor for yours.¡±

    Teblas laughed, a low, mocking sound. ¡°Oh, a pretty lie, tyrant. Truly.¡± He turned his attention to Einreth, who had been staring at him with a fixation that would have worried Matt if she had her sword at hand. ¡°Did you hear, Lady Einreth? Your brother would have survived if he had been more loyal! Surely it was his lack of fidelity that cost him his life.¡±

    Einreth offered him a thin smile. ¡°My brother was not a perfect man, Lord Teblas, and neither are you. I don¡¯t claim perfection either, but I have seen the good our King has done. That is worth forgiving a few misguided words¡ªand a few mistaken offers of lenience.¡±

    The bite in her words appeared to have no effect on the rebel. ¡°I see. Well, I suppose that is fair enough.¡± Teblas turned back to Matt, his voice growing lower and less amused. ¡°She doesn¡¯t seem amused that you would spare me an instant judgment, tyrant. Perhaps she will be the next to feel the weight of your expectations?¡±

    He pushed away the burst of anger he felt. ¡°This isn¡¯t about Lady Einreth, Teblas. She has proved her own loyalty to the Kingdom. It isn¡¯t her that is facing the results of her own decisions. You are.¡±

    ¡°And should you escape your own punishments, murderer?¡± Teblas leaned forward abruptly, in a way that made the lifeguards tense. ¡°You killed her. You murdered our true ruler. Your whole reign is based in blood, and you pretend to offer mercy now?¡±

    It was the core of the problem, and one that Matt was beginning to feel he was powerless to solve. Teblas had not just been the Red Sorceress¡¯ lover; he¡¯d actually cared for her, a genuine love. Whether or not she¡¯d reciprocated, he¡¯d loved her.

    And Matt had gunned her down next to a shipping container on Earth.

    He forced himself to speak carefully. ¡°I had little choice there, either. She was threatening a boy¡¯s life. She threatened my life. I had no intention to kill anyone that night. Should I have laid down and died because she wished me to?¡±

    Matt saw the trap just a moment too late. Teblas pointed a finger at him in victory. ¡°And should I not refuse the same choice, tyrant? You would have me lay down my life for a chance at mercy. Why should I let you kill me when you refused to do the same?¡±

    Anger speared through him. ¡°Because you would save the lives of your people, Teblas. I wouldn¡¯t have saved anyone by dying that night, but you could save hundreds, maybe thousands, right now.¡±

    Teblas shook his head. ¡°Every single one of my men has sworn to follow the course I charted. They are as committed to my cause as I am to theirs. None of us will submit to your tyranny, none of us will fight for your Kingdom of Iron. Not now, not ever.¡±

    A sense of resignation welled up inside of Matt. He fought it down, as well as the anger at Teblas¡¯ stubborn frustration. ¡°So you remain committed, then. I am sorry to hear that.¡±

    The rebel glanced back at the robed figures once more. His words held more than a hint of smirking triumph now. ¡°I¡¯m sure you are. Now, if you have nothing else to say¡ª¡±

    Then Matt leaned forward, placing his clenched fist on the table. ¡°Then if you are not willing to surrender, are you willing to do something else for your people? I challenge you to a duel. The loser¡¯s army surrenders.¡±

    His words seemed to paralyze every person in the shade of the tent. Matt thought he could hear the members of his lifeguard cursing internally. Einreth actually took a step forward, reaching for him. He looked back at her, and she stopped, dropping her hand to her side.

    Teblas was staring at him, frozen in apparent shock. Matt didn¡¯t know how much information Teblas had gained about his magical abilities, or his progress as a fighter, but he had to know that Matt had managed to win every fight he¡¯d been in so far. Maybe he had the same impression those idiots in Heartlight had suffered from, that he was some weak puppetmaster that could be crushed as necessary. If so, he could be convinced to make the same mistake¡ªand Matt would promptly drop him into the deepest hole he could make, right in front of both armies.

    The silence continued, so Matt broke it again. ¡°How about it, Headhunter Teblas? Do you want to avenge your Sorceress or not? If you think I¡¯m such a tyrant and a coward, hiding behind his armies, then here¡¯s your chance. Come kill me, one on one, and no one else has to die.¡±

    He could see the rebel starting to come out of his shock now, could see the anger and pride warring their way to the top. Teblas would take the chance; he¡¯d never seen Matt as a warrior, not during the coronation, and not after. The Orc would relish the chance to break him, to collect another head for his lost love, and overthrow the Kingdom in one cut of his sword. Matt watched him start to lean forward, sensed him opening his mouth to accept.

    Then one of the cloaked figures behind him spoke in a voice that carried an accent that Matt felt was both familiar and strange. ¡°No. We cannot accept this.¡±

    Incredulous, Matt turned his attention to those figures. Then he paused. Why couldn¡¯t he see inside their hoods from this range? Why were their figures so indistinct?

    As his suspicions began to form, Teblas twisted around and threw himself out of the chair. It clattered to the ground as he snarled at the figures. ¡°You cannot accept? What do you¡ª¡±

    ¡°You recall the meaning of our assistance, Orc?¡± The figure shook her head, her voice twisting with contempt. ¡°I will not permit you to throw aside this opportunity for your own pride.¡±

    Teblas took a step towards them, his fists clenched. ¡°You do not believe that I could win? Are you insane? He¡¯s just a fool!¡±

    ¡°A fool who has slaughtered the Noble Races and convinced the West to bow to his wishes? Who has killed or arranged the deaths of four of your High Clan leaders, and secured the loyalty of the others, or their heirs? No. I don¡¯t trust his offer of a fair duel, and neither should you.¡±

    Matt slowly rose from his own chair, an alarm bell ringing in his head. ¡°And who are you, my lady? I don¡¯t think Teblas has introduced us.¡±

    ¡°He has not.¡± Amusement laced her tone, and he could feel the eyes inside that dark hood regarding him calmly. ¡°I believe he was waiting for a more opportune moment. Perhaps your time has come, Lord Teblas?¡±

    The mocking way the woman put a twist on Teblas¡¯ title made Matt¡¯s stomach twist. Teblas glared at the woman for a moment longer, and then turned partially back to Matt, his posture still shouting frustration and rage.

    ¡°Tyrant, it is not I that is outnumbered and outmaneuvered here. May I introduce my new, esteemed¡­ allies from the South. They are princes and princesses of the Alliance of Light, come with their banners to help free us from your oppression.¡±

    As Teblas spoke, the illusions fell away. They revealed a pair of Knights, a pair of Wizards, a Dwarf and an Elf, all of whom were smiling at Matt. Contempt and hatred marked their expressions, and Teblas turned his back on them to face Matt fully.

    ¡°They have promised me the freedom and protection of my home, tyrant¡­ and in token of that¡­¡±

    He signaled to one of the servants, who blew on a whistle of some kind. As he did, a ripple of fading illusions washed over the armies on the hill. Behind and around the Orcs were banners of Knights, Wizards, Dwarves and Elves, all ready and prepared for war. Matt felt his stomach drop as he counted those forces.

    Matt had thought he was facing sixteen banners with thirty-one. Now, he was facing at least forty.

    Obviously, his situation had changed.

    Teblas studied his expression, and a kind of satisfaction entered his tone. ¡°We will allow you a few hours to decide whether you will make the same noble choice you offered me. Surrender, you and all your troops, and we might let you live. If not, then you will suffer. For all your murders, all your crimes, and all your lies.¡±

    ¡°Go now, and make the best decision, for both you and all your people.¡±

 B2Ch19: Fallen Royalty

    The lines were silent as Matt rode back to his side of the field. His soldiers had obviously seen the new enemies revealed. They could count just as well as he could, and they knew they were suddenly the ones who were facing long odds. He¡¯d have to put heart back into them, but first he had to know how screwed he was.

    ¡°Karve. What are we looking at?¡±

    The Margrave responded quietly, taking a moment to look back across the field at the banners that were emerging from the trees. ¡°There¡¯s at least four banners from each member of the Alliance there. They probably sent them as an escort for those royals. Teblas must have sworn loyalty to them when he heard¡ª¡±

    ¡°I know.¡± Matt had pushed the rebels into siding with the invaders. The news of Itrelia¡¯s defeat and the truce with the Noble Races would have been bad enough. Hearing about Suluth¡¯s death and the invasion of the Copper Hills had to have shoved Teblas right over the edge and into the Alliance¡¯s arms. ¡°What can they do?¡±

    Karve seemed to pull himself together a little. ¡°I can see Ponthuul Prancers. They are cavalry archers from the Hill Elves, can move just as quick and easily as the Leapers. Looks like the Onyx Clans sent some of their Crossguard. Heavy armor, crossbows almost as long as the Dwarves are tall, bolts can punch right through a shield. Two kinds of mages; one group¡¯s a bunch of Stormcallers from the Circle of Heavens. They really like using lightning and wind. The others are Mistweavers, probably the ones who were using the illusions. The Greymark Circle¡¯s good at those.¡±

    He paused, glancing behind them again. ¡°Two batches of Knights as well, some mounted, some on foot. The foot soldiers are probably Murdersworn from the Knights of the Raven. Heavy armor, thick shields, tough to stop in melee. Cavalry¡¯s probably Chargemasters from the Order of Lion¡¯s Roar. They boost their warbucks with magic, could probably charge straight through a wooden wall and not notice.¡±

    Einreth spoke up from Matt¡¯s other side. ¡°My liege, we need to get you away from this battle. Our prospects¡­ do not look good. It will be bad enough if we lose the army, but if they take you¡­¡±

    She didn¡¯t have to finish. Matt had never declared a successor or had an heir. If someone killed him here, they¡¯d be the new ruler of the Kingdom, just like when he¡¯d killed the Red Sorceress. It meant that even if Teblas hadn¡¯t wanted to kill him for personal reasons, it was still the most valuable thing to do for the enemies that faced him. He made a mental note to address that once the battle was over¡ªif he had survived, of course.

    Matt shook his head. ¡°No. I stay here.¡± He didn¡¯t add that if he lost his army here, there wouldn¡¯t be much to keep the enemy from immediately marching north. They could take Shadowfen easily with these troops, and Redspire wouldn¡¯t have much time to prepare itself either. He¡¯d gambled on being able to destroy Teblas, and then have time to prepare for the invaders from the Alliance in the spring.

    His enemies hadn¡¯t waited, though. They were here, and these weren¡¯t even all of their forces. Which meant he had to conquer here, or his Kingdom would fall. One way or the other, he was committed.

    Then he raised his eyes and saw the battlefield again. He studied it as they drew close, trying to imagine how the enemy would see his troops. What would they want to see? How could he use that to turn the fight against them? Teblas hadn¡¯t given him much time, but a couple of hours would be enough to make some changes.

    If only he¡¯d been able to taunt Teblas into a duel! He¡¯d been so close, and the rebel had obviously not heard anything about Matt¡¯s newfound magic. Too bad all he had were some basic mining techniques and¡­

    His thoughts stopped. Then he smiled. ¡°Karve, I have orders. They¡¯re probably going to spend some time forming up and resting from their march, so we have about that long to get things ready. Here¡¯s where I want them positioned¡­¡±

    ¡°I want you to distract those Stormcallers. Keep them off balance and unable to focus on anyone else. Don¡¯t let the Mistweavers distract you; I want you keeping the lightning away from the infantry. Use your illusions to avoid being hit, just like you did at Folly¡¯s End.¡± Matt tried to make it seem like a forgone conclusion. It was likely going to be much harder than it sounded, but he had no choice. A commander worked with what he had.

    The four captains of the Shadow Hunter banners were nodding seriously. They were positioned on the southernmost position in the Forks, in the section just before everything turned to swampy earth and tangled forest. Matt was counting on their speed to help them work around and strike the mages from behind. With luck, they¡¯d manage it, and he¡¯d be able to keep their heavy mages from tearing his troops apart from afar.

    One of the captains, a woman named Maeluth, shook her head. ¡°Sire, we¡¯re fast, but they are lining up cavalry of their own to counter us. What if those damn Prancers come after us?¡±

    Matt shook his head. ¡°Don¡¯t worry about them. They¡¯ll be elsewhere.¡± In fact, he expected them to follow Teblas and head north, but he didn¡¯t bother explaining why.

    Another captain glanced across the field. ¡°That may be true, but those Chargemasters are still fast enough to catch us, and they definitely are going to be guarding the enemy¡¯s flank. How are we supposed to get past them?¡±

    He grinned at her. ¡°They won¡¯t be coming after you, Captain. After all, I¡¯m giving them a much juicier target.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re going to hold here. When they come forward, I want you to start shooting the Mistweavers. Keep them from doing anything useful as the enemy closes.¡±

    The Frost Elves around him seemed skeptical, which was probably justified. He¡¯d ordered the Skirmishers to deploy just north of the Shadow Hunters, almost directly facing nearly an equal number of Knight Chargemasters. It was not the best matchup. Heavy cavalry charging a line of archers across an open field spelled near disaster for the infantry. Matt knew that better than anyone; after all, he¡¯d done nearly the same thing during his first battle, and his troops hadn¡¯t been nearly as heavily armored as these Knights were.

    None of the captains seemed to have missed that fact, either. Two of them were staring out across the field as if they were watching their inevitable death approach. Another was glancing between Matt and the captain of the Winterknights, who were lined up just behind the archers, as if expecting the Elven noble to protest.

    The last of the Skirmisher captains simply stared Matt directly in the eyes. His voice was low and serious. ¡°Sire, if those Knights reach us, then we are dead. We cannot hold against the weight of that charge. If we are overrun, then the flank of your army is lost, and the battle soon after.¡±

    Matt nodded easily. ¡°You are right, Captain¡­¡±

    ¡°Xorl, sire.¡±

    ¡°Captain Xorl is entirely correct. If those Knights charge you, you¡¯re dead.¡± Matt looked around at each of the captains, seeing acknowledgement in their eyes. Good. He didn¡¯t want them to be fools. ¡°That¡¯s exactly what we want them to see. We want them to charge in here on their warbucks without a care in the world. Then, when the time comes, you need to throw down your bows and charge them. Use your spears to take them down. Whoever takes the prince in their ranks will get an Award of Valor.¡±

    The captains blinked. Xorl seemed confused, but his fear seemed to have lessened. Before any of them could protest, Matt turned to the Winterknight captain. ¡°Divide your banner in two, and after the Skirmishers charge, I want you to move out and hit the Mistweavers. They won¡¯t be ready for a cavalry charge, so make it count. Pull back if you need to, but give the Skirmishers time to finish the job before you do.¡±

    She seemed a little taken aback by the orders, but the Winterknight nodded. Matt looked around at them, smiling. ¡°I am not abandoning you, friends. I am giving you the chance to perform the duty you were meant for. Today, you¡¯ll defend the Kingdom and bring honor back to your Houses and families. The bards will sing about this day for generations. Just have a bit of faith in me¡­and charge when you get the chance.¡±

    Einreth was waiting for him with the contingent of Red Moon troops. She¡¯d already arranged them just to the north of the hill where the dead town waited. Her Red Guard troops were stationed in a double line, with her banners of Bloodsworn in the middle. Across the field, four banners of Murdersworn faced them, backed up by the Crossguard and the Stormcallers. It was an imposing weight of force to be facing, but the Lady of the Red Moon seemed unimpressed. She¡¯d heard his plans, after all. He supposed it wasn¡¯t the worst vote of confidence that she seemed happy to face so many enemies.

    ¡°Are you ready?¡±

    She nodded. ¡°Yes, my liege. We¡¯ll hold them here.¡±

    Then she glanced to the south, where the Frost Elves were lined up in their vulnerable position. They hadn¡¯t even positioned themselves right next to the knee deep river in front of them. ¡°You¡¯re sure they¡¯ll hold? I cannot promise to stay here if we are hit from the side and back.¡±

    ¡°I promise, Einreth. They¡¯ll hold better than anyone expects.¡± It might have seemed insane to promise that, but Matt had spent a bit of extra time in the area. The Frost Elves had been nervous, at least until they saw him using his magic to tunnel through the earth in front of them. He¡¯d hidden the explosions of dirt and stone by pushing it into the river to be swept away, or directing it back into the small ditches they¡¯d already dug. Hopefully, the enemy hadn¡¯t seen it; he hadn¡¯t noticed them adjusting things, at least.

    Which meant that the Knights had no idea that the entire ground in front of the Skirmishers was one huge network of tunnels, concealed by barely a few inches of dirt. They¡¯d hold up well enough if a squirrel ran across them, or if the wind blew some more snow on top. When four banners of heavy cavalry tried to charge across them, however¡­ well, their triumphant assault was going to fall quite literally on its face. The chaos and injuries caused by that disaster would give his own troops the chance to swarm over them and even the odds.

    At least, that¡¯s what Matt hoped would happen. There would be only one way to find out.

    He looked over the Red Moon soldiers. They seemed solid, especially the Bloodsworn. The enemy was probably hoping to smother them with crossbow bolts and lightning blasts, then send in the Murdersworn to finish it. The harassment of the Shadow Hunters would hopefully lessen the problem, but it was still a terrible set of odds to face. ¡°If you get the chance, aim for their princes. These Alliance troops couldn¡¯t care less about the Copper Hills, and if they see their leaders fall, it might convince them to run home.¡±

    ¡°I know, sire.¡± Einreth smiled at him. ¡°Go. I¡¯m sure the others could use your direction.¡±

    He nodded to her and then continued north. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see six banners of cavalry pacing his movements. Teblas, his Leapers, and the Prancers, all looking to hit wherever he was hiding the moment the battle started.

    It was just as he hoped, but even if it was according to plan, having that many troops interested in his head was unnerving. Just one more thing he couldn¡¯t worry about, at least not yet.

    His next stop was the dead village, where the Irregulars had been stationed.

    They were lined up in three clumps, all ready to use the gentle slope of the hill to their advantage. The Defenders were once again with the Vulgars in the center; the Wagoneers had joined the Axes on the left, and the Scouts and Slingers were on the right. Across the field from them were six banners of Leaffall militia, an oddly shaped mob of patchwork armor and roughshod weaponry.

    ¡°It¡¯s almost insulting, is what it is.¡± The captain of the Axes spat on the ground, and then glanced apologetically at Matt. ¡°It¡¯s like they think we aren¡¯t worth all the troops they¡¯re sending elsewhere.¡±

    ¡°They don¡¯t.¡± Matt smiled. ¡°Which means they¡¯re going to be pretty surprised when you charge.¡±

    The captain of the Scouts paused, surprised. ¡°Charge, sire? We can probably hold them pretty well here.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯ll do better than that, I¡¯d say.¡± Matt turned and pointed at the distant militia. ¡°That is a bunch of raiders and bandits that they¡¯ve lumped together and tried to call soldiers. I¡¯d give good odds that the closest they¡¯ve come to a real fight is when a farmer stood up to them. Are you going to tell me you guys can¡¯t stand up to them after you¡¯ve fought Winterknights and Skirmishers?¡±

    Captain Rugord gave him a broad smile, his wagoner¡¯s axe laid across his shoulders. ¡°Good point, sire. We¡¯ll handle them for you.¡±

    ¡°Once they¡¯re beat, see if you can hit the enemy from the sides. Don¡¯t just chase their mob across the field. Those Red Moon boys will probably need the help.¡± A rough chuckle ran through the group at the idea of Low Folk riding to the rescue of the nobles, and he nodded. ¡°Anything else?¡±

    The captain of the Vulgars raised his hand. ¡°What about the Margrave and the others? Are they going to need any help?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ll be giving them all the help they need, Captain. As long as you lot got those carts broken up?¡±

    ¡°Broken up, tied together and covered in dirt, just as ordered, sire.¡± Rugord¡¯s expression told Matt that the captain had no earthly idea what the boards could be used for, but that was fine by him. He didn¡¯t need to explain everything to the soldiers.

    ¡°Good. I knew I could count on you.¡± Matt looked around at them and raised his voice. ¡°Fight hard, do your best, and we¡¯ll all do the Kingdom proud today.¡±

    Karve nodded to him as he approached. ¡°Sire. We¡¯re ready.¡±

    Matt nodded. The Margrave was stationed with the banners of Spears and Footmen, guarding the space between the dead village and the headwaters of the Forks. They were solidly entrenched in the place; the Crown Guard knew very well how powerful those ditches and earthworks would make them, when the enemy came for them.

    Not that Matt expected there to be all that much direct combat. Four banners of militia were lined up across from the earthworks, but they would have been easy to break if it hadn¡¯t been for the four banners of Defiant just behind them.

    The enemy¡¯s plan was clear in this case. Rather than fighting the Crown Guard directly, they were hoping to use the militia to keep the Defiants safe while the archers peppered the troops with arrows. Any return fire would be scattered to the wind, making the entire thing a miniature siege until something else on the battlefield shifted. Teblas was probably hoping that the rest of the army would have crumbled long before it was necessary to charge Karve¡¯s position¡ªor that he could arrange for the sturdy troops to be flanked.

    Either way, Karve would be in for a rough time, but at least he wouldn¡¯t have any risk of being immediately overwhelmed. At least, that was what Matt hoped.The author''s content has been appropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

    He looked back across the field and caught sight of those cavalry banners still shadowing him. When he glanced at Karve, the Margrave was watching him closely. ¡°It appears you attracted the Headhunter¡¯s attention, my liege.¡±

    Matt grimaced. ¡°Yeah, looks that way.¡±

    ¡°You didn¡¯t tell me you were planning on challenging him to a duel. I¡¯m not sure it would have been wise.¡±

    He gave Karve a level look. ¡°I¡¯ve won duels before, Karve. I could¡¯ve ended it without all of this.¡±

    Karve nodded. ¡°You have won duels. Einreth told me about what happened at Heartlight.¡± He then raised an eyebrow. ¡°Fighting an experienced duelist is a much different challenge compared to a double handful of overconfident lordlings. He might have killed you. Then where would we have been? The whole Kingdom would have gone under the Alliance¡¯s boot.¡±

    ¡°I had to take the chance.¡± Matt couldn¡¯t help how defensive he sounded. It didn¡¯t help that Karve simply continued staring at him with no reaction. ¡°All right, all right, it was¡­ hasty. It doesn¡¯t matter. It didn¡¯t work.¡±

    ¡°Perhaps. Something tells me you¡¯ve just challenged him to a more complicated version.¡± Karve glanced out to where the Leapers were stirring. ¡°If that¡¯s the case, I advise you to avoid fighting him directly, sire. Let your soldiers fight. The Kingdom cannot afford for you to lose your head¡ªfiguratively or literally.¡±

    Matt looked back and forth between the Margrave and the enemy. Then he snorted in frustration. ¡°Who¡¯s been teaching you words like ¡®figuratively¡¯?¡±

    Karve laughed. ¡°Lady Einreth has had a refining influence, perhaps.¡± Then he extended his hand. ¡°Fight well, my liege.¡±

    He took the Margrave¡¯s hand and shook it. ¡°And you, Karve.¡±

    ¡°Why in all the hells are we stuck here, sire?¡±

    Captain Snolt¡¯s exasperated question was as close to a friendly greeting as Matt supposed he was going to get. He smiled at the man, conscious of the jittery postures of the Warg Riders around him. ¡°All according to plan, Captain. Did the Irregulars leave the boards in the right spots?¡±

    Snolt nodded, and Matt looked across the river. He¡¯d stationed the four banners of Warg Riders in a fairly useless spot, north of where Karve was waiting with the rest of the Crown Guard. Technically, they could have been guarding the camp, but realistically, the waters of the river were too deep for anyone to ford. The Riders would have a better chance of sprouting wings than they would charging across that water. Anyone who knew anything would see the Riders position as a fallback, a chance for Matt to run north while the rest of his army was crushed behind him.

    Which was why both the Leapers and Prancers were waiting on just the other side of the river, clearly intending to give chase. The Riders might be able to make good time, but Matt knew that the cavalry would run him down the instant he tried to get away. Some of the Goblins might escape, but Matt had no doubt that Teblas would ride every bicorn to death to take his head.

    Fortunately, he wasn¡¯t planning on running. At least, not in that direction.

    He saw Snolt opening his mouth again, and he gave him a firm look. ¡°You¡¯re going to have your chance to fight, Captain. Trust me.¡±

    Snolt paused. Then he nodded, turning to look at the river. ¡°If you¡¯re sure, sire.¡±

    ¡°I am.¡± Matt tried not to sound exasperated. ¡°You really do need to get control of that bloodlust, Captain.¡±

    The Goblin snorted. ¡°I¡¯m a Rider, sire. It comes with the job.¡± Then he shifted uneasily on top of his battle-scarred mount. ¡°It just doesn¡¯t sit right to stay here while all the others are fighting.¡±

    ¡°You won¡¯t Captain. Believe me, we¡¯ll all put in plenty of work today.¡±

    A horn blew across the field, and Matt looked south. More horns followed as the enemy began to form up and advance, their pace showing their enthusiasm and high morale. Even their mobs of militia seemed ready to rush into the fight, though their officers were doing well at keeping them in order. Too bad; if they had rushed forward, they might have been easier to drive backward once they reached his lines. Further to the south, he thought he could see the Shadow Hunters sprinting out and to the side of the incoming warriors, already trying to flank the enemy and get to the Stormcallers.

    Then he turned his attention back to the cavalry coming toward the river. He saw the Elves on their greatelks start to draw arrows back, and grimaced. ¡°Captains, get your people under cover. We¡¯re about to have company.¡±

    The Warg Riders obeyed the orders immediately, retreating a short distance so that they could take cover behind some of the wreckage left behind by the destruction of the supply carts. Arrows arrived a few moments later, zipping in from above to strike carts that had been tilted up on their sides. They punched holes in tents and tore openings in sacks full of grain. Matt grimaced as he saw one Rider hit in the leg; one of their companions was there immediately, removing the projectile and bandaging the spot.

    He couldn¡¯t afford to be distracted, however. Matt turned back to the river and began to form the framework in his mind. It came together easily; he¡¯d actually been practicing the thing regularly, and had tried it briefly during the chaos earlier, as the Irregulars had chopped up half of the carts. The Earth magic inside him roiled and clashed, as if sensing the opportunity to be unleashed.

    The rain of arrows stopped, and the enemy charged. On the face of it, the charge seemed insane; the Orcs and Elves were headed straight for a fast-flowing river of deep water nearly thirty meters across. If nothing altered their charge, they¡¯d be washed downriver, the momentum of their advance crushed by the flow. Their bodies would end up among the rocks and waterfalls that broke the river into the shallow Forks below.

    When they reached the far shore, however, the cavalry leaped skyward. He thought he caught the hint of magic in the air as they drifted up higher and higher, their initial jump becoming a graceful arc. The sight of it was awe-inspiring. At least six hundred beasts and riders flew through the air in three separate waves. They floated up, crested, and began to descend in a waterfall of armored flesh, some of them firing more arrows as they descended gently towards the near shore.

    Matt watched them come, searching among them for the Headhunter himself. Teblas had to be there; the rebel would never give up the chance to strike the decisive blow directly. It was as much a part of him as his insistent rage over the death of the Sorceress.

    Eventually, he gave up. It didn¡¯t matter, but what he did next would.

    As arrows zipped down among his men, Matt ignored them and reached out to channel the magic into the soil. The power of the Trickster¡¯s Sneaky Pit once again flowed outward, and the shore before him became a morass of mud.

    He didn¡¯t make it as deep as he had in the arena at Heartlight; he wasn¡¯t looking to bury the cavalry in up to their necks, after all. Instead, Matt made the pit trap shallower, barely half a foot of mud and sand that almost instantly drew in water from the surrounding, waterlogged soil. The lack of depth helped him to make the patch wider instead, spreading it from a handful of meters across to nearly twice the length and width of a football field. It happened all in an instant, solid ground becoming a quagmire before the first enemy rider even touched it.

    Had they merely been charging across it, the field would have been a mild disaster. Mounts would have slipped and fallen, or at the very least been slowed by the sudden pit. Riders who fell would have been weighed down by their armor, half-helpless as they wallowed in the mess.

    They were not merely charging. Six hundred cavalrymen and their mounts plunged into the pit at the end of their leap, and all the grace and beauty of their magic deserted them. Bicorns bellowed and greatelks shrieked as their legs snapped or feet slid. Riders spilled from saddles, crushed down into the mire by those coming from behind. Weapons disappeared into the earth, abandoned or dropped as the mass of flesh and armor writhed in agony. Those who had hit the pit first were smashed to the ground flat as the following waves came crashing down on top of them.

    The screams of the mounts tore at Matt¡¯s soul almost as much as the howls of the Orcs and screams of the Elves. What he¡¯d just done was horribly, manifestly unfair, and he had no doubt that it would haunt his dreams, no matter what the uncanny valley would have shielded him from.

    Still, he remembered his duty and turned to Captain Snolt. ¡°Riders! Form up!¡±

    The Goblins had been staring in shock, and his orders shook them out of their daze. Riders leapt into saddles, and Wargs snarled as they sensed vulnerable prey before them. Matt¡¯s lifeguard formed up around him, with Snolt and the rest of the Royal First close by. Matt gave them a chance to form ranks just outside the range of that muddy, struggling mass.

    Then he dropped the energy of the spell and let the pit become soil again. The mud didn¡¯t disappear immediately, but it hardened into simple earth and clay once more. Orcs stared in shock as they were suddenly up to their calves in solid dirt; Elves pulled themselves free of suddenly firm ground. Some of them, the more clever and less stunned, turned their eyes to the Wargs now waiting right at a perfect charge distance.

    Matt swept his mace forward. ¡°Charge!¡±

    The Riders howled along with their mounts as they swept forward. Their enemies before them had barely any time to struggle upright, to free themselves from the sodden earth, before Matt¡¯s troops were on them. Even as lightning struck from a clear sky to the south, and as shouts and screams rose from the rest of the battle, his cavalry rolled over them like a lethal wave of fangs, claws, and curved steel.

    He didn¡¯t join them. His hands ached to swing his mace, but Matt knew that the force in front of him hardly counted as an enemy anymore. They were still trying to stand, to pick up weapons, to get back onto their crippled or fallen mounts. As he watched, half of them had already panicked. A few fools were already trying to swim the river, with predictable results as the current swept them away.

    Feeling a little hollow, Matt turned to his lifeguard. ¡°Get the boards ready. I want all four sets of them down there as soon as they finish.¡± His guards eyed him, as if questioning whether he would charge down into the chaos the moment his back was turned. If he was honest, the temptation was certainly there. Whether it was simply to wipe away the horror of it by throwing himself into the middle of the fight, or to seek out and end Teblas personally, he felt the tug to join in the slaughter.

    Then he heard Karve¡¯s advice in his mind, and he sighed. ¡°Go. Hurry, or else the next part of the plan will be too late.¡± They nodded and set about carrying the planks forward. Each of them had been tied together with rope the Irregulars had salvaged from somewhere, and large clumps of dirt were gathered around each end of the ropes.

    Mat examined them and then sent the lifeguard down with the whole collection. Below, the fighting was already almost over; the few who were still breathing had either surrendered or were surrounded and utterly without hope.

    He spurred Nelson forward. It was time for the next step in his plan.

    Snolt rode up to him as Matt approached the river. His face had been smeared with blood, giving the Goblin an especially vicious appearance. ¡°I never should have doubted you, my liege!¡±

    It wasn¡¯t a helpful interruption as Matt was trying to form his next Spell, but he accepted the pause in his preparations. ¡°Did Lord Teblas survive?¡±

    The Goblin shook his head. ¡°No, sire. He went down fighting, but the Riders from the Fourth brought him down.¡± Snolt snorted. ¡°They¡¯re starting to call themselves the Headhunters now, the braggarts.¡±

    Coming from the captain of the ¡®Royal First¡¯, the complaint was a bit much, but Matt let it slide. ¡°And the Elven princess that was with them?¡±

    Snolt grew a little grim. ¡°She¡¯s gone too. Not sure if the fall killed her or the crush after the charge, but she was dead beneath her own mount.¡±

    ¡°I see.¡± Matt fought the urge to sigh. A hostage might have been useful for negotiating a peace treaty, but his troops didn¡¯t have the luxury of hesitation. Nor did he.

    As he went back to the Spell, Snolt continued in an almost rapturous voice. ¡°A fine battle indeed, sire! Something they¡¯ll write about in the stories back home.¡±

    Matt smiled. ¡°We¡¯re not done yet, Captain.¡± He watched as the lifeguard set the boards in place along the shore. It was hard to ignore the fact that he was standing in a butcher¡¯s yard, filled with the dead, wounded, and dying. Of course, the continued screams and fighting to the south gave his task an urgency that helped him to focus. People were still dying, and more would fall if he didn¡¯t end this soon.

    The Captain grinned at him. ¡°Of course, sire. We can just ride back around the lines and¡­¡± His words trailed off. When he spoke again, he sounded far more cautious. ¡°What are those for, sire?¡±

    He smiled as the final pieces of Haunted Dust Spell took shape within him. Matt extended his hands and felt the magic flow through him. ¡°Have you ever heard of a pontoon bridge, Captain?¡±

    Before Snolt could answer, the magic flowed through Matt and into the dirt clumped around the ends of the ropes. Matt took control of them, anchoring two for each set of boards on the near shore of the river.

    The other two of each set he sent shooting straight up into the air, as high as he could make them go. Boards clattered and clashed as they extended to their full length, forty meters above the ground. Murmurs of awe and surprise rose from the Riders, but Matt ignored them.

    Instead, he focused on lowering the ends of the makeshift bridges, pivoting them down and across the river. The ropes stayed taut, making the bridges as straight as a ruler. He felt the magic within him start to strain at his control as the far ends reached the other side of the river. Matt fought against that feeling, trying to stay calm and in control as he anchored both sides of each bridge.

    Then he spoke, his voice filled with strain. ¡°Captain Snolt, get everyone across the river. Now. Form up on the far side.¡±

    Snolt spun around and nodded, his eyes wide and wild. ¡°Yes, sire. Immediately!¡± He turned and started shouting orders. Startled Riders leapt back onto their Wargs, and Matt felt the strain increase as the first of them crossed the river. It only increased as more and more Wargs flooded onto the bridges and made their way across, but he gritted his teeth and bore through it.

    By the time the last Riders were beginning to cross, Matt felt his energy finally starting to flag. He¡¯d always been unsure if he could maintain it while he crossed himself; now he was certain that was a bad idea. Instead, he grabbed one of the last Riders and spoke through gritted teeth. ¡°Tell Snolt to hit the Defiants in the flank. I want those archers running before he even thinks of going after anyone else.¡±

    The startled Rider nodded, and Matt let them go. A few moments later, the last of the Riders was across, and Matt finally let the Spell collapse. He saw the bridges immediately tumble into the river, their support vanishing. In moments, the boards had been swept away down the rocks, and Snolt was waving from the opposite side as they rode south.

    Matt watched them go for a moment, wishing he could have joined them instead of standing on the remnants of the battlefield. The captured Elves and Orcs were crouching, weaponless and beaten, beside the corpses of their comrades. He looked over at them, considering.

    Then he turned Nelson south, motioning for half of the lifeguard to stay with the prisoners. It was probably more than enough to handle the situation.

    At least, it would be unless everything else had gone wrong.

    Exhausted as he felt, Matt rode hard with the remnants of his lifeguard. He circled around where Karve had been located, hoping that the Margrave was more than capable of pushing forward once Snolt hit the Defiants in the back.

    He came up on the hill where the dead village had once stood. He knew he could trust Rugord and the other Irregular captains, but their troops were still technically militia. How well they would follow orders and carry out his plans when they were more than ¡®advance and kill everyone in front of you¡¯ was up for debate.

    The Irregulars had already pushed forward off the hill by the time he reached there, but the slope gave him a brief look at the entire rest of the battle.

    To the north, things were more or less what he had expected. Snolt and the Warg Riders had charged at full tilt into the flank of the Defiants, taking the archers by complete surprise. Deprived of their support, the militia in front of Karve had suddenly routed, with the Spears pushing forward and the Footmen pelting the fleeing peasants with crossbow bolts. The entire northern flank of the enemy had been turned.

    East of the hill, he could see the Irregulars still fighting their way forward. They hadn¡¯t been able to drive their opponents off entirely, but that had been partially because their advance had drawn the attention of the Dwarven Crossguards. Even as he watched, long steel bolts rained down on a portion of his Scouts and Defenders, cutting them down even through their shields.

    The Irregulars weren¡¯t the only targets of the Dwarven crossbowmen. They had also fired at his Shadow Hunters, trying to defend their allies among the Stormcallers. Lightning still slashed down among the dodging Wargs, though many times their attacks landed on illusions or empty air. Still, it appeared the Goblins had suffered harsh casualties; even with illusions, there weren¡¯t nearly as many Hunters as there should have been.

    Yet the Hunters¡¯ loss had been Einreth¡¯s gain. Her troops had pushed forward, meeting and driving back the Murdersworn in front of them. The Dwarves¡¯ distraction had cost the Knights dearly; they looked close to breaking themselves, and Einreth¡¯s Orcs were nearly to the point where they could bring the Dwarves into melee combat.

    Then he turned to the south, where he had hoped his traps would catch the Knights and mages off guard enough to allow the Frost Elves to survive. His heart in his throat, he turned, half expecting to see a few banners of Knights swinging around to take Einreth in the side.

    Instead, he saw a furious, bloody melee in the middle of a network of pits and trenches. It was nearly impossible to tell who was winning or losing, but the Elves were holding. More than that, the Winterknights had managed to bring the Mistweavers into melee. Matt¡¯s jaw dropped as he watched the heavily armored Frost Elves riding down the Wizards, ignoring magical blasts and misdirection to cut down the mages where they stood.

    He turned, feeling something close to a sick sense of awe run through him. As he looked out over the battlefield, he saw the collapse sweep through the enemy lines. The militia standing against the Irregulars saw the Defiants dying and their fellow militia routing. Their morale gave out almost immediately; he saw them start to flow away and run like water pouring from a cup.

    As the militia ran, the Irregulars charged forward, their path to the Crossguard suddenly clear. Vulgars and Wagoneers abandoned their smaller friends to charge straight at the Dwarves, their polearms flashing and striking. The Dwarves didn¡¯t manage to get off another volley before the Orcs hit them. Their heavy armor held for a little while, but as they were driven back and occupied, the Murdersworn finally broke. When they ran, Einreth¡¯s Bloodsworn caught up to the melee as well, tearing through armor with their magical weaponry. It wasn¡¯t long before the Dwarves were running as well, with a wall of howling Orcs in furious pursuit.

    With the center and opposite flank in full collapse, the remnants of Teblas¡¯ army ran too. The Mistweavers gave up and fled, even as the Winterknights rode them down. A few more strikes of lightning swept out from the Stormcallers, but the Shadow Hunters distracted them with a few more volleys, just long enough for the Axes to catch them. Moments later, the Wizards were fleeing the field, along with the broken wreckage of the rest of the army.

    To the south, the Knights that had been trapped in the pit were the last to realize that the battle was lost. When they did, however, it was almost entirely too late. As they struggled their way out of the melee and the mud to run, they found themselves cut off by Einreth¡¯s Red Guard and even some of the Slingers who had chased the Stormcallers in an odd direction. Most of them who managed to break free either rode frantically further south, willing to risk the mires there rather than face more enemies, or simply threw down their weapons and surrendered as their situation became clear.

    That quickly, it was over. Matt watched his soldiers continued their pursuit, knowing it would be fruitless to call them back or even give orders. He sat back on his warbuck, watching as his army chased the enemy from the field, and finally, quietly, relaxed. The battle was done. He¡¯d won. He¡¯d won!

 B2Ch20: The Fruits of Victory

    The aftermath of the battle seemed like it was nearly as much work as the battle itself.

    His soldiers had searched among the fallen for the wounded, both from his forces and those of the enemy. There had been many, almost too many for the army to carry with them when they left. Those who had slight injuries were given enough treatment to help them walk and move on their own. Those who were worse off were piled into one of the few remaining carts, in the hopes that they could last long enough to reach doctors elsewhere.

    They also had to bury the dead, a task that Matt at least felt he could use his magic to help with. There were far too many bodies on the field, and it took the entire rest of the day to gather them all. The snow was so stained with blood that it seemed like the entire battlefield was a pool of frozen crimson. He wondered how long it would take for it to melt away or be buried under fresh snow.

    Matt dug the graves for the dead, both for his own people and the soldiers of the Alliance alike. Casualties had been high, even among his victorious banners, and the butcher¡¯s bill for the Alliance and rebel forces was barely worth thinking about. Hundreds of lives had ended on that field, to the point where it would take weeks for his Kingdom to replace the losses. He only hoped that the Alliance would be just as hard pressed to find new soldiers, and that the remaining rebels in the Copper Hills would finally lay down their arms.

    His generals hadn¡¯t been spared from harm, either. While Captain Snolt had been untouched, Gwelfed the scout had been wounded. Captain Rugord had been severely hurt, to the point where he had to be dragged from the field by his men. Lady Einreth and Magrave Karve had both been wounded as well, though not nearly as badly. With Karve it had been a close thing. If the arrow had struck just a short distance to the right, Matt would have needed to replace his newest Margrave already.

    The search for survivors among the corpses slowly revealed the scope of the disaster for the enemy. It was clear that the majority of the forty banners that had faced him had been wiped out or captured, leaving only fragments to scatter to safety. Of the ten banners of militia, two of every five militiamen had escaped, and had usually done so by throwing down their weapons and running for their lives. Matt had no doubt that they would either resort to banditry in the Sortenmoors, or simply returning to a farm somewhere rather than challenging his rule again.

    Every single Leaper had been killed or captured, and only a single banner¡¯s worth of Defiants had managed to escape out of four. The loss of those soldiers almost guaranteed that Teblas¡¯ rebellion was over, even if the leader himself hadn¡¯t been discovered with three different Goblin swords driven through him. Matt had buried him with his men, in a space of the field just in front of the dead town of the Forks, something he thought Teblas would have appreciated.

    None of the Elven Prancers had escaped either, and as Snolt had reported, the Princess Kelthar had been found dead in their midst. Lady Mourine, Third Heir to the Order of Ravens, had been found dead among the corpses left by the Murdersworn, of whom only parts of two banners had managed to retreat. Lord Onless, one of the princes of the Onyx Clan, had been killed among the Crossguard by a Vulgar blade, though at least two full banners of his Dwarves had retreated intact.

    Lord Thur¡¯sen, a nephew of the Head Sorcerer of the Circle of White and leader of the Stormcallers, had been found dead as well, full of Shadow Hunter arrows. His Wizards had managed to withdraw with half their number dead or captured. The Mistweavers hadn¡¯t done better; the Winterknights had ridden two thirds of them down, and Lady Shelsan, princess of the Greymark Circle, had died as she fled.

    In the end, only one of the Alliance¡¯s leaders had been found alive. Prince Dorran, third heir to the Order of the Lion, had crawled out of the pit to the south, a Frost Elf spear in his side and his warbuck slain. A pair of Frost Elf Skirmishers had found the Knight and brought him in. He¡¯d been lucky. Three quarters of the Knights who had charged into the hole had been killed or captured, and most were in much worse condition than he was.

    Matt had immediately wanted to interrogate the Knight, but he¡¯d restrained himself. The doctors would need to do their work, and his magic would ease the burden on his soldiers. Even with the power within him muted to a mere rumble, he could still Tunnel out portions of the earth, breaking through the ground to create the graves for the men and women who had given their lives here. It was terrible, unending work; by the time the last of the corpses had been identified and brought, the light had long since faded from the sky and he was working by torchlight.

    Finally, though, it was done, and the last of the dead had been laid to rest. The rebels he buried east of the town with Teblas. Those of the Alliance he placed to the south on the field, laying them to rest together.

    His own dead he buried west of the town, in a place that the battle had not touched. Almost five hundred of his soldiers¡ªhis soldiers¡ªlay in a place that the war had not spoiled, because their bravery had turned the enemy back. He felt he owed them that much.

    Then, when the last of them had been given their place, Matt turned and staggered back to their camp, which lay just north of the town still. Their journey home would begin in the morning, but he still had work to do. It seemed he would always have work to do now.

    He found Prince Dorran half-asleep, his senses dulled slightly by the medication the doctors had given him.

    Though pale, it did seem as if the captured Knight would live. The doctors had been cautious about their assessments¡ªapparently stab wounds of this type were difficult to treat and predict¡ªbut they believed his natural toughness and armor had saved him the worst of the injury. There had been other scrapes and bruises, but their main concern had been the impact on the Knight¡¯s mind. Apparently, the battle had left him in a deep state of shock, one that could only be worsened by the pain and grief the prince had to be feeling.

    Matt had thanked the doctors for their warnings and then gone to speak with one of the last leaders of the enemy left alive. He needed to know if this battle would be the end of the Alliance¡¯s attempts to destroy him, or if there would be other battles like this one. There was a delicate, fragile hope in his mind that his enemies could be convinced to give up now.

    Dorran was lying in a cot, staring off to the side. He seemed dazed, though by pain or shock, Matt couldn¡¯t say with any confidence. The prince didn¡¯t react when Matt stepped into the tent, still looking at the cloth of the tent without apparently seeing anything.

    When Matt cleared his throat, however, the prince jerked as if he¡¯d been stabbed again. He looked in all directions, as if anticipating assassins coming from every angle. His fingers twitched for a sword that had been lost with the majority of his men, and he started to sit up before he twitched with pain.

    Then his eyes finally fell on Matt, and Dorran half-fell back into the cot. His eyes were wide, and his breathing grew shallow. ¡°You.¡±

    Matt inclined his head gently. ¡°Prince Dorran.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re a monster. We should have had you, should have driven you before us. How did you do this? How are you so strong?¡± The words were a whisper, delivered with the kind of paralyzing fear that would have had most people gibbering nonsense. Matt tried not to hold it against him; he doubted he¡¯d be much better off, if his plans hadn¡¯t worked out and his army had just been obliterated.

    ¡°Have your wounds been treated, Prince Dorran? Are you lacking anything?¡± The prince stared at him, as if unable to believe that he was hearing correctly. Matt repeated the questions and the prince shook himself, like a dog ridding itself of water.

    ¡°I am fine, King Matthew. Your sawbones were¡­ adequate.¡± A hint of Dorran¡¯s royal upbringing reasserted itself. It was the kind of lordly contempt that Matt had expected from an heir to the throne, which showed that there was a prince somewhere in there, despite the battle shock.

    ¡°I apologize we lack some of the things you may need. Our resources here are limited.¡± Matt gave him a thin smile. ¡°We were not expecting such a difficult fight here.¡±

    Dorran laughed, though he flinched with pain afterward. ¡°Well yes. That was rather the point. For all the good it did us.¡± The prince shook his head. ¡°So, will you execute me now, King Matthew? Or will you wait until you have dragged us back to the seat of your dark power?¡±

    Matt frowned. ¡°Who said anything about execution? Has someone been threatening you?¡±

    The Knight snarled at him. ¡°Do you think I would join you? I am a Knight of the Order of the Lion. My soul is pure and honorable. I would never turn against my friends.¡±

    Increasingly baffled by the conversation, Matt frowned. Was this something caused by the medication, or the shock? Or had the Alliance been spreading some kind of propaganda about him to encourage their soldiers? ¡°What are you talking about? I am not going to kill you unless you try to escape, or ask anything else from you that you don¡¯t want to give. You¡¯ll be kept in the Tower of Blood until you¡¯re either ransomed or the war ends.¡±

    His words seemed to have little effect on the Knight. Dorran glared at him through the haze of his own pain. ¡°Our war against you will never end, monster. You¡¯re unnatural, an abomination. Our Alliance will purge this land of both you and your collection of creatures, no matter what we have to do. You and your Kingdom will be destroyed!¡±

    Dorran almost shouted that last sentence, and Matt rocked back on his heels at the hatred in the words. He was familiar with the history between his Kingdom and the members of the Alliance. Just like everywhere else, it had been a cycle of wars, raids, and assassinations that went back centuries, with all the bad blood that legacy entailed. At the same time, Dorran seemed almost¡­ frantic about his desire to see Matt¡¯s people destroyed. How were they so much more dedicated to it than the Noble Races or the Coalition had been? Hadn¡¯t they all had the same bloodshed and feuding between them?

    Matt shook his head as he thought it over. Any thought of making an immediate peace was gone now; even if the Alliance was shocked by their losses at the Forks, they seemed dedicated enough to continue fighting. It meant once the rest of their forces arrived, he wouldn¡¯t be looking at a simple clash the way it had happened with the Noble Races. He¡¯d be fighting a continual, grinding war of attrition, one that would have him wading through the blood of friend and foe alike in search of a solution.

    It was not the way he wanted things to go. As he¡¯d said at the start, he had no reason to war against these people; it was only their own hardheadedness that had even begun the conflict in the first place. At the same time, he had no intention of just lying down and letting the Alliance butcher their way through his lands. His people deserved protection, and Matt would give it to them.

    He stared down at the prince, watching as the anger and determination faded from the Knight¡¯s face. Uncertainty and fear were starting to creep back in, as if Dorran was wondering if he had pushed too hard and guaranteed himself an execution after all. Matt smiled, and Dorran¡¯s face went so pale that he almost seemed to have started losing blood again.

    ¡°We will be releasing a member of your army on parole to carry a message back to the Alliance. It will have the names of all the prisoners we¡¯ve taken, as well as the state of their wounds.¡± Another expression of confusion crept across Dorran¡¯s face, but Matt continued before the prince could respond. ¡°You are the only leader of the army that survived here. If you wish to include a message for your father, or for the Alliance as a whole, you are free to do so. We¡¯re going to read it before it goes, and if it contains harmful information, we¡¯ll edit it, but you can at least send word home that you¡¯re alive and healing.¡±

    Dorran nodded slowly, as if unable to believe what he was hearing. Matt waited to see if he would respond, but then he continued as the Knight remained mute. ¡°I¡¯ll send someone with parchment and a quill. Give us the letter by the time the sun rises, and it will go with the messenger. After that, you and the other prisoners will go with me to the Tower of Blood in Redspire, until some kind of truce can be found.¡± He made a mental note to rename the prison; the rest of the world might view him as some kind of evil overlord, but he didn¡¯t need to give them free propaganda material like that. Besides, the name just sounded ridiculous.

    He turned to leave, but Dorran spoke up just as he lifted the tent flap. ¡°Did¡­did anyone else¡­?¡±

    Matt looked back, and for a moment, pity filled him. Even a royal prick like this idiot didn¡¯t deserve this kind of news. ¡°No. I¡¯m sorry, but you¡¯re the only leader who survived. The others all died.¡± He saw the stricken look on the prince¡¯s face and turned away. ¡°Some of your army made it to safety, but I don¡¯t know how many of them were wounded, or how many supplies they had.¡±

    He waited for a moment longer, in case the prince had more questions, but Dorran simply lay in the bed, his eyes going distant with grief. Matt stepped out of the tent and back into the night. The next day, the return to Redspire would begin.

    Leaving the Grim Hollows was just as agonizing a process as entering it had been.

    Luckily, one of the roads that led from the Forks arced up to the north towards Redspire in an inconvenient, meandering sort of way. It was still the quickest way back to the capitol, and it would be best if the army reached Redspire as soon as possible. Shadowfen might have been slightly closer, but the center of the Kingdom had more doctors available, and would be able to house their prisoners better.

    Besides, after such a terrible week, Matt was looking forward to just being home.

    So they set out to the north, following a snow-littered cart track barely well-defined enough to be called a road. His soldiers were still exhausted from the battle of the previous day, as well as the work afterward. Matt could sympathize; even his magic seemed to be at a low ebb as he led Nelson north. Things were not helped by the snow that began to drift down from the sky during the second day.

    Each night, Matt helped with the burials again. Death had not stopped when the battle was over. Between the cold, the effort of the journey, and the ever-present predation of disease, they kept losing more and more of the wounded as they walked. The side they had served did not matter; Knights and Wizards, Goblins and Orcs, Dwarves, Elves, and Imps; all of them faded and failed along the trail.Help support creative writers by finding and reading their stories on the original site.

    By the end of the third day, as they finally broke free of the Hollows, Matt had stopped thinking of the Battle of The Lakeland Forks as some sort of grand victory. It was something he had survived, and something that far too many others had not. The rest of the army seemed to disagree; even as they buried their comrades, they were already speaking of his role in it as some kind of divine intervention. How could they not see what his rule had cost them?

    Even the very name of the battle started to shift. Instead of being called after the Forks, some of the men began to call it the Battle of Seven Princes, as if the presence of those seven would-be royals was more important than the hundreds they had sent to their deaths. It frustrated him, but Matt knew he was never going to be able to order them to stop using the name. Instead, he just did his best to ignore it and forge ahead along the road as it widened and the tangle of the Hollows faded away.

    They made better time out of the Hollows, and the calm farms of the Spirelands were some welcome relief. In some places they passed by farming towns, where the people came out to cheer on their conquering defenders, and jeer at the prisoners that had fallen into their hands. Others in those towns watched with anxious eyes, as if they still did not trust the men and women under Matt¡¯s command.

    On the fifth day after the Battle at the Forks, Redspire itself finally came into view.

    The sight of the city was like a breath of fresh air. Snow or not, war or not, it was as if the capitol had in a very real way become home to him. Matt sat atop Nelson as the army moved around him and studied what he could from the hilltop.

    He could see the city still bustling with activity. The snow was light that day, and so the falling flakes didn¡¯t quite obscure the smoke rising from cookfires. His troops were joking and laughing among each other, heartened by the promise of warm beds and strong drinks ahead. Those who were clinging to life seemed to gain new will to endure, as the chance to reach the doctors of the city drew near.

    Not all of them made it, but Matt sent a messenger ahead for the city to prepare for his arrival. He wanted treatment for the wounded, beds in the garrison for the weary, and a triumphant welcome for the army as a whole. They had earned it, after all.

    The people of Redspire welcomed the army home with as many murmurs as there were cheers.

    Perhaps it was the awareness of how many fewer soldiers had returned. It might have been the presence of so many more surrendered prisoners; they had just managed to rid themselves of the last batch of useless occupants of the Tower of Blood after all.

    Or perhaps it was just the grim expression that Matt couldn¡¯t manage to change this time. He knew that the victory had been important, and that the sacrifices were necessary. If he had lost, the Alliance would not have spared his people, or celebrated any less.

    All the same, it all seemed to be ashes in his mouth as he looked around. His last victory had been the end of a war. This one only really announced the beginning of a new one. One that promised to be far worse than the last had been.

    He marched with his troops to Victory Square, where he could already pick out his advisors waiting for him. Gorfeld was once again standing beside the fountain, along with Melren. Lord Torth and some of the other members of the Great Council stood beside them, along with the bulky form of Voice Girtun.

    His attention was drawn to two other figures that he hadn¡¯t really expected there. Paralus was waiting, standing a little apart from the other members of the group. Matt couldn¡¯t think of a reason for the ambassador for the Western Coalition to be there, but he hoped it was not a sign for future troubles between him and the other nations. The Alliance was already promising to be enough for him to deal with for the time being.

    Tanya was also there, dressed in a warm gown and coat that shielded her from the falling snow. Her dark eyes were fixed on him as he dismounted, and he gave her a weary nod. She responded by stepping forward, meeting him halfway before he had crossed to the group. Matt was taken off guard when she actually hugged him, at least until she whispered in his ear.

    ¡°I¡¯ve already built a Fire foundation for my next source. Try and match that, cowboy king.¡±

    He grunted, shocked a bit out of his grim outlook. She drew back and gave him a brilliant smile, and then stood to the side as he approached Gorfeld.

    The steward bowed low. ¡°My liege, welcome back to Redspire.¡± Once again, he took a golden chalice and dipped it in the fountain. Matt accepted it and tried not to look at the hateful statue that was still mounted above the stone and water. ¡°In celebration of your victory, and in honor of all those who have laid down their lives in our defense, I offer you this drink from the waters of our home.¡±

    Matt nodded and turned to raise it to the watching crowd. There were cheers, but they seemed faint compared to the roars that had welcomed him the last time he had returned to Redspire. Then he drank it and handed the cup back to Gorfeld. He made sure to keep his voice low. ¡°We have much to discuss, Gorfeld.¡±

    ¡°We do, sire. As soon as possible.¡± Gorfeld¡¯s eyes shifted towards Paralus, who was still watching the celebration in silence. ¡°As you say, there is much to discuss.¡±

    ¡°Again, congratulations on your victory, sire.¡± Gorfeld paused, his expression serious. ¡°I know it may not have felt like an accomplishment, but your losses are less than they would have been if any other monarch would have been in command. Our people are lucky to have you as their King.¡±

    Matt shrugged, trying not to let his grief and sense of foreboding overwhelm him. The fatigue of the past few days was not helping his focus. ¡°Then I guess you didn¡¯t choose all that poorly after all, Gorfeld. Though I wouldn¡¯t mind if you decided you wanted the job instead.¡±

    His steward glanced at the lifeguards, but they didn¡¯t stir at Matt¡¯s limp attempt at a joke. Gorfeld sighed and shook his head. ¡°No, sire. I think I¡¯d rather have you lead us through the coming storm.¡±

    ¡°Then I suppose that I¡¯ll stick with it, then.¡± Matt shook his head. ¡°What do I need to know?¡±

    Gorfeld nodded. He stepped forward and handed over a stack of parchment, as well as one sealed envelope. Matt set them on the desk of his study and looked up in curiosity. His steward nodded towards the envelope and gestured to the seal of wax impressed over it. ¡°Ambassador Paralus indicated he wanted it sent directly to you, sire. His instructions were to deliver it to you personally. He only gave it into my care when I made an oath to not interfere with it.¡±

    Something about those instructions seemed suspicious to Matt. He didn¡¯t know if this world had the equivalent of anthrax or mailbombs, but he decided to open that particular envelope with some care. Setting it to the side, he picked up the first of the parchments instead. ¡°An announcement from the Alliance?¡±

    ¡°Yes, sire.¡± Gorfeld seemed to brace himself. ¡°It arrived the day before the Battle of the Seven Princes. They¡¯ve declared the Copper Hills a member of their union and have committed to defending the Leaffall Orcs against our aggression.¡±

    Which meant that the Alliance would already be moving troops into the Hills through the southern border. The invasion he¡¯d feared since the start had already begun, and the battle at the Forks had only been the first strike. ¡°Send a warning to Morteth. He needs to not get too deep into the territory without reinforcements, especially if the Alliance already knows he is there.¡±

    ¡°Margrave Morteth was sent a message the day we received the announcement, sire. I believe he should have heard it by now.¡±

    Matt nodded. Hopefully Morteth wouldn¡¯t push his luck. Just maintaining the mountain passes would give them a solid defensive line to keep the Alliance from moving in, but actually invading the Hills would need more than the forces that Morteth had available. He had no idea where he was going to find those reinforcements at the moment, given the losses he¡¯d just taken and the other battlefields he faced, but desperate times required desperate measures.

    The next parchment held something a bit more encouraging. Parufeth was reporting that the work on the sewage system was virtually complete; in fact, a good portion of the public latrines were already hooked into the pipes. His foreman projected that the last of the work would be finished within the week, at which point the work crews would be ready for the next building. Attached to that statement was a note scrawled in Gorfeld¡¯s hand that stated the stench was already fading near most of the various buildings throughout the city, and that disease appeared to be at an all-time low.

    He looked up, unaccountably touched by that fact. For a moment, he struggled to find a firm tone of voice. ¡°So it looks like the construction is going well.¡±

    Gorfeld nodded, a knowing look in his eyes. ¡°Yes, sire. Though I will repeat my warning about our decreasing treasury. Between the work on the Maiden¡¯s House, and the projected expenses¡ª¡±

    ¡°The Maiden¡¯s House? That¡¯s what she called it?¡±

    His steward winced at the disbelief and frustration in Matt¡¯s tone. ¡°Actually, sire, the people have been referring to it by the name. I don¡¯t believe that Maiden Tanya has encouraged anyone to use it. The building has only the basement floor finished, but it is progressing as well. The report is on the next page.¡±

    Matt looked over the words, and then quickly set it aside. Predictably, the very next piece of parchment showed expenditures, and the rapidly vanishing amount of coin in his vaults. Projections were now looking like they would last until the end of the next summer, but that was only if some disaster didn¡¯t happen to the tribute payments from the east.

    Of course, the very next report promised that steady income would be in decline. ¡°The Noble Races have dissolved?¡±

    Gorfeld nodded. ¡°Our agents have said that the Knights of the Anchor formally left the union three weeks ago. Many of the other nations are also sending notice that they are considering withdrawal.¡± The Imp paused. ¡°There are also reports of troops massing along their borders. I believe that before the end of spring, they will be at war with one another.¡±

    Which meant that the ones still paying the tribute were going to suffer some inability to keep to the scheduled deliveries, if they didn¡¯t cease to exist at all. Matt groaned softly and then turned to the next parchment. This one seemed a little better. ¡°We sent an ambassador to the Western Coalition. They were well received?¡± Gorfeld nodded, and Matt continued reading. There had been Magistrates appointed and lifeguards assigned to them. The Council had proposed to send at least one wandering Magistrate to investigate and make sure that nobles had actually freed their serfs, in order to prevent fraud. It was a measure that Matt approved of, though he wondered how many of the nobility would be that foolish.

    Then he reached the end of the page and grunted in surprise. ¡°Voice Wokneth is dead?¡±

    Gorfeld¡¯s expression became one of sadness. ¡°Yes, sire. He was found by his wife and sons. He passed away from old age. The Assembly is debating his replacement now.¡±

    ¡°Hopefully, they choose well.¡± Matt turned to the next page, which was a continuation of the report on the Council. ¡°They gave Lady Einreth the title of Defender of the Realm?¡±

    ¡°As one of your commanders at the Battle of Seven Princes, they felt it was appropriate, sire.¡± Gorfeld smiled. ¡°Though I understand she has informed the Council that she will refuse any appointment as a Margrave. Apparently she feels too dedicated to her Clan to accept the role.¡±

    Matt snorted. It was a savvy move, especially since there were likely those who felt there were too many Orcs already at the Table of Margraves. It wasn¡¯t like she couldn¡¯t make her voice heard anyway, and he doubted that the rest of her Clan would dare defy her now, after the lesson he¡¯d just taught them.

    He made his way through the rest of the reports, seeing the same mixture of good and bad. There had been another riot in Redspire, close to when the announcement from the Alliance had arrived. Had it been due to cramped conditions and discontent, or some action on the part of the Alliance¡¯s agents in the capitol? The soldiers had once again helped calm things, and the members of the Council had been surprisingly responsive to the crisis, which had been resolved quickly.

    There had been some shortages of food, but the weather was soon going to turn. Spring was days away, according to projections, and with the warming weather would come a chance to renew the farms that had been lost or burnt. Grufen reported that the Frost Elves remained pacified, though there had been some requests for news of the banners sent to serve at the Forks. Hopefully, the new casualties wouldn¡¯t undo Grufen¡¯s efforts to keep the place peaceful.

    More and more details emerged as he read. A disease breakout in Harvesthall, the center of the Hard Scythe Orc Clan. News of a vigilante group calling itself the Voice of the Sortenmoors, striking at various spots within that bloodbath of a region. Some rumors about predictions of the supposed Counselor, that forecast suffering and death in the Kingdom¡¯s future. It all formed the picture of a land at the edge of a precipice, still trying to decide which way it wanted to lean. Would it come down on the side of peace and stability, or would they descend into chaos and civil war again?

    Matt was still shaking his head over those thoughts as he set aside the last piece of parchment and then turned to the envelope again. A part of him was tempted to have the lifeguard open it, just in case some magical trap had been included. At the same time, Paralus had already learned the price of trying to undermine him, and he was especially wary of being linked to an assassination attempt. He wouldn¡¯t have participated in something he believed would kill him, would he?

    He pondered the question and then smirked. ¡°Well, if anyone senses anything explosive in here, now¡¯s the time to say.¡± No one said anything, though the lifeguard shifted on their feet, and Gorfeld took a long step back. Matt gave him a half-serious glare. ¡°Really?¡±

    His steward shrugged and smiled, and Matt turned back to the envelope. Moving carefully, he broke the seal and opened it, wincing a little as the stiff paper crackled.

    Nothing blew up, which was promising. He drew out a sheet of pale, creamy paper, far finer than normal parchment. Magic sparkled from the page as he drew it out and read; the very words seemed to catch the light and shift slightly, as if to prevent anyone who was trying to read it over his shoulder.

    From Chief Magistrix Reyalla Chel, Master of the Order of the Echoes, Watcher of the Void, Calm Warden of the Endless Sea and Eternal Sky, to King Matthew Irons, current ruler of the Kingdom of Iron.

    He raised his eyebrow. At least Paralus¡¯ ruler had a refined sense of style. Those titles didn¡¯t seem to be idle ones, either. It would be worth looking into how she had earned them.

    Shaking his head, he continued reading.

    It is our understanding that you are an honorable man. I have the testimonies of our advisor Alerios the Mage, and our Ambassador, Paralus the Firebrand, to reassure us of this fact. Your efforts to bring peace to our lands have only confirmed their words. Even were all this not true, we owe you the deepest of debts, for saving the life of our son and heir, Carlen Chel, from the machinations of the Red Sorceress.

    For this reason, I must inform you of grim tidings. The remnants of the army you broke in the Grim Hollows have returned to report the slaughter to the rulers of the Alliance. They see you as a monster, now, a threat that cannot be borne, and worst of all, one who has slain their kin on the battlefield.

    Matt paused to pinch his eyes. He did not like where this was going, and the headache that threatened to come to life seemed to agree.

    When he could, he turned back to the page, where the magic continued to flare and shift.

    The rulers of the Alliance have all sworn, together with their Heirs, an Oath of Enmity against you. They will stop at nothing until you are dead, together with any allies and Heirs you might name. The whole resources of their Houses are marshalling against you, more than was already committed to the war. They will come for you soon.

    Furthermore, they have resorted to treachery against us as well. Their emissaries to our lands staged an attack upon the Library of Echoes, and have captured both Alerios the Mage and much of his research. We cannot prove it was them, not enough to stir the rest of the Coalition in our defense, and we cannot recover it on our own, but it is our opinion that their guilt is undeniable.

    Take care in how you face these troubles. Ambassador Paralus has been permitted to discuss what we will discover about their plans, but this assistance and warning is all I can give you. If asked, we must deny our support for you, but be assured that your honor and assistance will not be forgotten. Should you need refuge, we will offer it.

    By our own hand, and with our authority,

    Reyalla Chel

    Matt sat back, running his eyes over the words again, trying to pull what meaning he could from the words. He made it through the letter a second time before it abruptly burst into flame.

    He yelped, and half-tossed the page across the room. It burnt into flickering ashes before it even made it across the desk. Every small fragment of the page had utterly vanished in seconds.

    The lifeguards had all immediately moved into action, reaching for weapons and looking around the room for threats, but Matt gestured for them to stand easy. Gorfeld had not reacted at all. Perhaps he had already seen a similar message before? His steward was staring at him in obvious curiosity. ¡°Did you receive new information, my liege?¡±

    ¡°Yes.¡± Matt debated how much he should say. It was obvious he couldn¡¯t publish an informal offer of alliance and help from the leader of the Order of Echoes. Trying to bring it into the open would only cause problems. The Chief Magistrix would be hurt by the move, and there would be almost immediate rumors that he was some kind of puppet being controlled from her throne¡ªor vice versa. Better to leave things vague than to dive headfirst into that mess.

    Gorfeld bowed slightly, still interested. ¡°Good news, my liege, or bad?¡±

    Matt shrugged. ¡°That depends. How bad, exactly, is it if the Alliance rulers take an Oath of Enmity against us?¡±

    Dead silence answered him. Gorfeld slowly reached out and braced himself against one of the chairs. The Imp slumped into it, his skin pale. Even the lifeguards seemed shocked out of their normally neutral stance.

    He didn¡¯t really need to have an actual answer at that point. Matt massaged at the bridge of his nose, feeling that headache returning. Spring was only a few days away, and it was going to bring storms unlike any he¡¯d seen so far¡ªbut Matt had no choice but to face them. For the good of his Kingdom, and for the dream he had of a land free from war and servitude, he would see them all through the times ahead.

    No matter what.

    So instead of smashing his head into the desk like he desperately wanted to do, he forced himself to open his eyes and grin. ¡°In that case, we have a lot to do. Let¡¯s get to work.¡±

 B3Ch1: A Cold Start

    Matt watched as the wall came down.

    It had belonged to a building that had stood near the palace in Redspire for decades as part of a nobleman¡¯s mansion. Other, less prestigious buildings had already been torn down to clear the space nearest the palace, with their residents either going to the rapidly growing tent city outside the walls, or crowding into other parts of the city.

    Not that everyone had chosen to stay in the capital, of course. With the winter coming to an end, and the danger of war retreating from the north and east, some of the refugees that had been pushed into Redspire were starting to filter out of the city. He¡¯d already heard of large caravans heading out to repopulate villages in the northern Spirelands, or the High Imp territory to the east. Now that he had crushed Lady Itrelia¡¯s rebellion and forced the Noble Races to sue for peace, the people of his Kingdom didn¡¯t have to worry about facing enemies that would threaten to burn their fields and their homes. No one wanted to be thrown out into the dangers of the wilds.

    Another wall fell, and he snorted softly to himself. Right now, one of the biggest threats to his people¡¯s homes was his own building plans. Now that Parufeth had finished building the sewage and water systems for the capital, he had a new set of goals in mind¡ªand unfortunately those would require space.

    Parufeth, the Gnome foreman in charge of his building crews, came over to stand next to him, giving him a respectful nod. The man was filthy, as usual, covered in the dirt and sweat that marked his profession. He seemed happier lately, now that Matt had asked him to do more than pave roads and dig underground channels for water. ¡°We¡¯re ahead of schedule, sire. It seems a lot of the folks here were already expecting to need to move. We haven¡¯t had nearly as much trouble as the Maiden had clearing the space for her project.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s¡­ good to hear.¡± Matt shook his head. The reminder that Tanya had decided to build her massive eyesore while he was away did not help his mood. It hadn¡¯t helped put anyone at ease in the city either, though at least his officers had kept things from getting out of control. Her art museum was still in the process of being built¡ªusing stone instead of brick had consequences, apparently¡ªbut the Imp stonemasons had made fairly decent progress. Parufeth was obviously excited to show them what his own construction crews could accomplish. Matt just wished there was a bit more distance between the two projects; the last thing he needed was for the competition to turn physical.

    At the very least, his current project would be far more useful for the city. For years, the Crown Guard and any other friendly visiting forces had been stationed in a crowded, dingy set of barracks sandwiched between some local refuse pits and a public latrine. The smell had been¡­ unique, and the rooms bad enough that any High Clan forces had used the unpleasantness as an excuse to kick serfs out of their houses and stay elsewhere when they were allowed to visit.

    When he¡¯d started his reign, Matt had promised the troops better accommodations. Now he intended to deliver on that promise.

    The New Arsenal would be nearly four times larger than the current garrison building. He¡¯d planned it out to have a similar shape, a four-sided building with a substantial parade ground in the middle. At each of the four corners, there would be towers built into it that could act as watchtowers for the entire garrison. A gatehouse would stand at the front entrance, giving his troops the chance to fort up inside the structure if they needed to, giving them the protection of solid portcullises and battlements.

    Of course, the larger size would mostly be invested into the barracks for the troops themselves. The Arsenal would rise to at least four stories, giving the building plenty of space for troops. General rooms would take up the sides of the building, while officers¡¯ quarters and briefing rooms would be set up in the rearmost structure. There would even be plenty of space for a section of stables and a large storage area on the bottom floors, too.

    All told, he expected the Arsenal to be able to handle close to forty banners of troops, together with their mounts, supplies, training gear, and other necessities. It would have indoor plumbing and a water supply that could be refreshed from the Great Cistern through manual pumps. Instead of a smelly, forgotten place too miserable to bear, he¡¯d have a new command center for his military, with fresh living space and a chance to rebuild. New recruits could train in a space that didn¡¯t smell like a dung heap, and their officers could plan and strategize without worrying about whatever fresh plague the cesspits would spawn in the summer.

    Given the beating his forces had taken over the past few months, it would be a boost to morale that he desperately needed. The entire Kingdom would benefit from it.

    As long as he could build it before he ran out of money, of course.

    Matt glanced at the foreman, only hesitating a moment before he spoke. ¡°How long until the building is ready, Parufeth?¡±

    The Gnome glanced at him. Then he looked back at the rubble that his workers were continuing to pull down and cart out of the city. ¡°Hard to say, sire. I think we¡¯ll be able to stick to the schedule, as long as all our crews are able to focus on the project. I¡¯d call it eight, maybe nine weeks?¡±

    Matt nodded. He hadn¡¯t expected the answer to be all that different, but he¡¯d needed to ask. ¡°Good. Let me know if there is anything that I can do to help. The Council and the Voices should all know about how crucial this project is, and I expect them to help you now.¡±

    Parufeth nodded, though there was a look of concern in his eyes. Matt¡¯s relationship with the Council had grown strained since the Battle of Seven Princes. Some of the smarter nobles were starting to look at the Kingdom¡¯s finances and question exactly how long all the spending could continue. Others were simply felt safer now that Matt had eliminated so many of the threats to their lives¡ªwhich, of course, meant they felt secure in restarting their own plots for power and wealth.

    Fortunately, Voice Girtun had tamped down on some of those attempts to garner influence. He wasn¡¯t the most political animal¡ªthe Orc had been a blacksmith before the Assembly had chosen him, after all¡ªbut he was loyal, and he was dedicated to his responsibilities as the representative of the freeholders. When the Council overreached, Matt had learned he could count on the man to push back.

    Unfortunately, Redspire¡¯s second Voice had died a short while ago, and the Assembly was still debating their replacement. Matt hoped it would be someone of a similar experience and wisdom as Wokneth, the Imp who had occupied the position before, but something told him he wasn¡¯t that lucky.

    Then again, there was no point in borrowing trouble. He had problems enough to deal with, after all.

    Matt shook his head and looked back at Parufeth, who was still standing as if he was waiting for instructions. ¡°You¡¯re all doing well, Parufeth. Again, if you have any questions about the plans I¡¯m leaving for you¡­¡±

    Parufeth was smiling. ¡°I think you¡¯ve given us a clear picture of what to do, sire. Don¡¯t worry. You can count on us.¡±

    The reassurance helped ease the headache pounding in Matt¡¯s head. He nodded and stuck out a hand. Parufeth only hesitated a moment before the Gnome shook it; the gesture hadn¡¯t existed in the Kingdom before Matt had arrived. Now it was seen as a symbol of the progress the Kingdom had made over the early months of Matt¡¯s reign. Thousands of people he¡¯d freed from serfdom and saved from the ravages of war were embracing it, just like they¡¯d embraced him.

    It was enough to warm his heart a little, even as the cold breezes of early spring blew down the streets of Redspire. Now all Matt had to do was make sure he lasted long enough to reach the end of his reign, and things would have turned out great.

    With a few more idle words of praise, Matt turned and headed back towards the palace. His lifeguards, who were diligently searching the nearby area for assassins or spies, moved with him. He¡¯d almost gotten used to them by now. Being watched and guarded nearly every moment of his life had that effect. It was amazing how one¡¯s perspective could shift after less than half a year of life as a tyrant.

    None of them spoke to Matt as he walked into the palace and headed for his rooms. He had plenty of work to do, and the lifeguard seemed more interested in scaring the occasional servant in his path than interrupting his thoughts. It was a habit that Matt appreciated. There was far too much to think about, after all.

    Not everyone had that perspective, of course.

    ¡°You¡¯re leaving again? Already?¡±

    The near-shrill, incredulous demand rang through the palace corridor behind him, and Matt winced. He turned, with what he hoped seemed like regal authority and demeanor, to face the source of the noise. ¡°Hello, Tanya. Good to see you again so early.¡±

    Tanya Richardson, the so-called Maiden of Art, was glaring at him as if she did not share his opinion of their meeting. She was the only other human in this world, having been dragged here to be a distraction for him by the coalition of nations to the west of the Kingdom. Given how much trouble she caused, Matt still wondered just how successful that particular gamble had been for his supposed partners in peace.

    He was still musing over that question when Tanya stalked a little closer to him, her finger pointed at him like a blade. ¡°I just heard about it from Marisen. They¡¯re saying you¡¯re going to march out tomorrow.¡±

    Matt nodded. He tried not to glare at the Goblin servants that stood off to the side. When Tanya had first arrived at the palace, he¡¯d assigned her a couple of interpreters and companions to help her. They¡¯d quickly started to take her side on everything, though, to the point where he considered them her spies. ¡°That¡¯s right. The sooner I can head south, the better.¡±

    ¡°That doesn¡¯t make any sense. Didn¡¯t you win? Everyone says that Teblas guy is dead.¡±

    He tried not to sigh. Instead, he forced himself to speak patiently. ¡°We won, yes, but that doesn¡¯t mean the war with the Alliance of Light is over. There are still plenty of people who are trying to kill us.¡±Unauthorized use of content: if you find this story on Amazon, report the violation.

    ¡°Trying to kill you, you mean.¡± Tanya rolled her eyes. ¡°Look, can¡¯t you send somebody else? That¡¯s why you have those Margrave guys, isn¡¯t it? Send one of them.¡±

    Matt felt his headache come back. ¡°They¡¯re busy at the moment.¡± More accurately, Morteth was fighting a stalemate against the Alliance forces that were already in the Copper Hills, while Grufen was finishing the task of commanding the forces in Winterfast, which had once been a hotbed of rebellion and treachery. Karve was technically available, but Matt needed him to watch over Redspire and try to rebuild the armies that had been mauled during the Battle of Seven Princes in the Grim Hollows. All three of his Margraves were busy doing things that were crucial to the safety of the Kingdom.

    Technically, Matt could have taken any one of those positions, but it would have been the wrong move. After all, he was the King of this place, and his people would expect him to confront the dangers facing them head on, whether or not he wanted to do so.

    ¡°I still think you should stay here, not go off to this ¡®moors¡¯ place.¡± Tanya waved her hand. ¡°Aren¡¯t you worried I¡¯ll get ahead of you in magic?¡±

    Matt grimaced. Tanya had been taking advantage of her opportunity to monopolize Melren¡¯s time. The former noble was turning into a fairly decent teacher when it came to magic, but Matt couldn¡¯t exactly use that to his benefit if he was busy marching to war.

    ¡°I have other things to worry about, Tanya. Now, if you¡¯ll excuse me.¡±

    He turned and started back to his chambers, hoping that she would take the hint. The last thing he needed at the moment was an argument with her.

    His hopes were in vain.

    ¡°Look, I just don¡¯t understand why you have to throw yourself back into it again. Didn¡¯t they swear some kind of death oath against you? Wouldn¡¯t that mean¡ª¡±

    Matt came to a dead halt. He turned and looked Tanya right in the eye. ¡°I don¡¯t think I¡¯ve mentioned a death oath to anyone, actually.¡±

    Tanya blinked. She suddenly avoided his eyes. ¡°I just heard a rumor about it.¡±

    ¡°Sure you did.¡± Matt glanced at her servants, who seemed to be just as determined not to look at him. It probably hadn¡¯t been the Goblins; Melren was more likely to have let it slip. The Imp was far too fond of his students, and he¡¯d been there when Matt had asked about the Oath of Enmity. Tanya was far too good at ferreting out secrets. He just had to hope that the rumor hadn¡¯t spread much further. ¡°Come on. We¡¯ll talk about what you have and haven¡¯t heard once we are alone.¡±

    She seemed to get a little apprehensive about the comment, but Matt simply gestured for her to walk with him. Miraculously, she didn¡¯t seem to feel the need to complain any more until they had reached the chambers that served as his office.

    Matt nodded to the lifeguards that were waiting there; they joined the rest of his protectors and continued to scan the corridor for any approaching threats. A handful accompanied him inside, just in case some invisible assassin was lurking within.

    Fortunately, the only person waiting for him was Gorfeld, his steward. The Imp had been the one who had dragged him into this world, and the one who had convinced him to take control of the Kingdom, for all their sakes. Back then, he had seemed far more intimidated by his new monarch. Now he simply raised an eyebrow as Tanya followed Matt through the door. ¡°A problem, sire?¡±

    Matt shook his head as he walked over to his desk. ¡°No. At least I hope not.¡± He glanced at Tanya, who seemed unusually preoccupied with one of the chairs. ¡°It just seems like someone has managed to hear about the damn Oaths already. I just thought it would be wise to lock that sort of rumor down before it went much further.¡±

    Gorfeld went a bit pale. His eyes darted towards Tanya and back. ¡°We did know it would be known eventually, sire. It was only a matter of time.¡±

    ¡°I know.¡± Matt fell into his chair with a sigh. ¡°I was just hoping for more time.¡±

    Tanya finally gave up her attempt to look innocent, looking at Matt directly. ¡°I don¡¯t understand what the big deal is. Why are you trying to keep it a secret? They were trying to kill you already, weren¡¯t they?¡±

    Matt exchanged a look with Gorfeld before he answered. He¡¯d asked a similar question, back when the letter from the Order of Echoes had arrived, warning him of what the leaders of the Alliance of Light had done. ¡°They were, sure. The Oath means things have gotten a lot worse, though.¡±

    She snorted. ¡°How? It seemed like they were pretty bad already.¡±

    Gorfeld cleared his throat. ¡°My liege, if I could explain?¡± Matt gestured for the Imp to go ahead, and Gorfeld continued in a somewhat steady voice. ¡°While we were at war with the Alliance of Light before, an Oath of Enmity is something entirely different.¡±

    The Imp paused, as if he was feeling a little lost. ¡°Wars are something that happen frequently. So do ceasefires and temporary alliances. Things shift and change, but they are rarely as¡­permanent¡­as an Oath.¡±

    Tanya was frowning now. ¡°So the Oath is something worse than a war.¡±

    Matt nodded, putting a hand over his eyes. He tried to massage the bridge of his nose to lessen the ache behind his eyes. ¡°Much worse. It¡¯s basically total war. For eternity.¡±

    Her eyes widened. ¡°That¡­ seems bad.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s not entirely accurate to describe it that way, sire.¡± Gorfeld gave him an exasperated look. ¡°The Oath simply demands that those who take it devote their entire strength to destroying the target of the Oath. Those who haven¡¯t taken the Oath are free to ignore its effects.¡±

    Tanya¡¯s frown grew a little. ¡°Okay. So that means there¡¯s just a few people involved, right? Once they¡¯re gone, the war can end.¡±

    Matt dropped the hand from his face. He gave her a weary gesture. ¡°The people involved are the Kings and Queens of the entire Alliance of Light. Along with their Heirs, and the heirs of the Heirs.¡±

    ¡°Oh.¡± Tanya hesitated, as if thinking it over. ¡°That¡¯s bad.¡±

    ¡°Yeah. You could say that.¡± Matt sat up and leaned forward onto the desk in front of him. ¡°Basically, we can¡¯t just break a few of their armies this time to win, the way we did for the Noble Races and the rebels. The rulers of the Alliance of Light have made it so that we have to kill all of them to end the war this time, otherwise they will keep throwing army after army at us until they bury us.¡±

    Gorfeld nodded. ¡°That is correct, sire. As long as those rulers are alive, they won¡¯t stop. They can¡¯t stop; the Oath itself would be an agonizing weight on their soul if they gave anything less than their best to fulfill it.¡±

    The headache was starting to get really bad now. ¡°Which means, Tanya, that I¡¯d have to completely destroy them to make it stop. Oaths aren¡¯t how wars are declared here. It¡¯s how they announce they¡¯re going to burn entire peoples out of the world.¡±

    Tanya¡¯s eyes were as wide as they could go now. She stared at him in silence for a long moment, and when she spoke, her voice was faint. ¡°Oh.¡±

    ¡°Yeah.¡± Matt gave her a half-hearted smile. ¡°So I¡¯d appreciate it if you didn¡¯t mention the thing again in public. If the rest of the Kingdom hears about it¡­ well, they probably aren¡¯t going to react very well.¡±

    ¡°It would be a disaster.¡± Gorfeld grimaced and shook his head. ¡°The Oath of Enmity is like something out of a storybook. They are usually sworn in a tragedy, and end in misery for all involved. I cannot understand what would have driven them to such lengths.¡±

    Matt sighed. ¡°It doesn¡¯t matter, does it? We aren¡¯t exactly in the best position to ask them, even if they would answer.¡± He looked at Tanya. ¡°Anyway, that makes it all the more important that I head south and get ready for them. The more time I leave them to prepare, the worse this war is going to get.¡±

    Tanya was still staring at him. Then her eyes narrowed. ¡°This Oath thing. Was it against the Kingdom, or just against you?¡±

    The question caught Matt a little off guard. He looked at Gorfeld, who shrugged helplessly. ¡°There¡¯s not a lot of di¡ª¡±

    ¡°I thought so. It¡¯s you they want to kill, not just the Kingdom.¡± She stabbed her finger at him again, her eyes blazing with anger. ¡°Which makes it even stupider for you to head right where they can find you and kill you. Why aren¡¯t you trying to run away or hide? Or at least stay here, where you have plenty of soldiers around to protect you?¡±

    Matt grimaced. ¡°I can¡¯t hide in Redspire forever, Tanya. They¡¯ll come for me here anyway, eventually.¡±

    ¡°So make them work for it, at least. If you go south, they¡¯ll almost have to¡­¡± Tanya¡¯s words trailed off, and her eyes widened again. ¡°Oh, you idiot. You want them to try and kill you again. Are you seriously using yourself as bait?¡±

    That question hadn¡¯t been one he¡¯d expected out of Tanya. He saw Gorfeld suddenly stand up straight and stare at him with a shocked expression. Even the lifeguards seemed to have been startled out of their professional blank stares. Matt winced. ¡°I¡¯d be perfectly safe. It¡¯s not like they would instantly know where I was, after all, and if they tried¡ª¡±

    ¡°It wouldn¡¯t be an ¡®if¡¯, sire. The Oath would compel them to try to harm you, no matter what the risk to their plans would be.¡± Gorfeld paused for a moment, looking back and forth between them. ¡°If you are not prepared for their attacks, it would be a terrible risk, sire. When you asked me about traveling to the Sortenmoors, I did not realize that you planned to expose yourself to this kind of danger.¡±

    Matt gave his steward a level look. ¡°This isn¡¯t the first time I¡¯ve faced a risk, Gorfeld. I was probably in more danger when I went on the raids against the Noble Races. Actually, the only time I got seriously wounded was when I was walking around this palace.¡±

    ¡°Respectfully, sire, that was when you were facing traitors and unprepared caravans. You weren¡¯t dangling yourself like a worm on a hook and hoping to catch an army of the Alliance of Light.¡±

    Tanya pointed at Gorfeld. ¡°See? I¡¯m not the only one who thinks this plan is crazy. Besides, what do you think is going to happen to me if you go off and get yourself killed? It¡¯s not like the Alliance of Light would want to give me the chance to finish my museum. I¡¯d probably be lucky if they just threw me in a dungeon somewhere.¡±

    He grunted. It was something he had worried about. ¡°If the worst happens, Ambassador Paralus has instructions to get you back to the Western Coalition. They can try and get you home from there.¡±

    Absolute fury twisted Tanya¡¯s expression, but Gorfeld spoke first. His voice was low and cautious. ¡°Are you certain that would keep her safe, sire? The Oath was supposed to target both you and your allies. Even if she returns to your world, they may still pursue her there.¡±

    Matt felt his jaw clench at the thought of the Alliance crossing worlds just to hunt down people attached to him. ¡°At the very least she can try and get help there, even if the Kingdom falls. She deserves a chance to survive this.¡±

    ¡°So do you, cowboy king.¡± Tanya¡¯s voice could have chipped ice. A cold breeze stirred through the room, and Matt gave her a wary look. She was getting a bit too comfortable with her magic at this point. Maybe he would have a talk with Melren about slowing her progress. ¡°It¡¯s not like you asked to be the king of this place, and as nice as everyone is here, there has to be a better way to take care of everyone without trying to get yourself killed like an idiot.¡±

    He felt his temper flare. ¡°I¡¯m not trying to get myself killed, Tanya. I¡¯m taking a lot of soldiers with me to make sure that doesn¡¯t happen, and the whole reason why I¡¯m doing this in the first place is because most of the other things I could do end up killing us in the long run anyways. So if you want to help, you¡¯re going to need to find a better way than complaining about what I¡¯m doing.¡±

    She gave him a look that might have been able to freeze him solid without using any magic at all. ¡°Fine. I will.¡± The lifeguards shifted uneasily in the corners of the room, but she ignored them. ¡°Did you need me for anything else?¡±

    Matt returned her glare with one of his own. ¡°No. Sorry to have inconvenienced you.¡± She bowed her head slightly as if accepting his false apology and then stormed out of the room. He spent a few more moments glaring at the closed door before Gorfeld cleared his throat. ¡°Yes, Gorfeld?¡±

    He¡¯d almost expected the steward to look amused at yet another argument between the two Humans, but the Imp seemed somber as he spoke. ¡°You know that even if they kill you, they will still try to destroy the Kingdom as well, sire. Please do not take any unnecessary risks.¡±

    The Imp started for the door and then paused. He looked back at Matt with a curious half-smile. ¡°And if Fortune gives you the chance to kill them¡­ do not hesitate. They¡¯ve chosen this course, and our people need you. We aren¡¯t done with you yet, and you aren¡¯t done with us. Remember that.¡±

    Before Matt could react, the steward was through the door and gone. He spent a moment staring at the door, wondering exactly how he¡¯d gotten to the point where magically enforced death oaths and frustratingly loyal underlings were even a thing he¡¯d needed to worry about.

    Then he turned back to the parchments scattered across his desk. If he was really leaving, he needed to set things in order before he left. The last thing he needed was to come back victorious and find out that half the city had burned down in his absence.

 B3Ch2: On the Road Again

    It took a full two days for the banners he¡¯d chosen for his journey to prepare themselves for the march to the Sortenmoors.

    Compared to the army he¡¯d left with to defeat Teblas, his forces this time weren¡¯t nearly as large or varied. Most of the banners he¡¯d taken south into the Hollows had suffered heavy casualties in the fighting, especially considering those who had been wounded and later succumbed to illness on the way back home. Matt had no idea how long it would take to find and train new recruits to take the place of the veterans who had died taking down Teblas and defeating the Alliance¡¯s first attempt at an invasion. Karve had estimated the banners wouldn¡¯t be ready to deploy again until the summer at the very least, perhaps longer if people didn¡¯t respond as quickly to the Council¡¯s calls for another muster.

    Fortunately, he¡¯d left at least a few banners in Redspire itself, and not every banner he¡¯d marched with had been hurt so badly. The Warg Riders, in particular, seemed to have escaped trouble, though their friends in the Shadow Hunters had been decimated. Together with the former garrison banners, he had a fairly decent group of soldiers to escort him as he marched into the absolute bloodbath of the Sortenmoors.

    It was a fairly well-balanced force as well. The Second, Third, and Seventh Spears were all joining him, along with the Fourth, Eighth, and Ninth Foot. Captain Creps was grimly satisfied to be included in the action this time, though Matt might have suspected he would have wanted to go anywhere but the place that had been consumed with months of nonstop infighting. The First, Fourth, and Seventh Warg Riders were joining as well, with the Fifth reluctantly staying behind to help guard Redspire. There were no Irregulars with the column this time; the experienced militiamen were going to be recuperating from the fighting for a long time.

    Einreth had wanted to join him at first, at least until she¡¯d heard that Karve was being left behind in Redspire. There had been a suspicious level of ambition in the Red Moon Orc¡¯s eyes when she informed him she¡¯d stay and rest her Clan¡¯s troops in the capital. Matt might have suspected her of raising some kind of rebellion in his absence¡ªif he hadn¡¯t noticed exactly how she kept sneaking glances at Karve when the Margrave wasn¡¯t looking. He wasn¡¯t entirely sure how an Orcish romance worked, but Matt wasn¡¯t exactly going to be surprised if he came back to find that his newest Margrave was a bit more¡­ attached to Einreth than he had been before.

    His colder, more pragmatic side told Matt that he should be worried about how much power a Margrave and the leader of a High Clan would have together, but he trusted Karve enough to know the Orc would resist any foolish schemes. Karve had never once failed to back him up, and his history as a serf-turned-freeholder would naturally make him skeptical of any nobility looking for his support. All things considered, he felt he could trust the former commander of the Iron Eighth to hold to his principles and stay loyal.

    Loyal, but probably not unattached. From what Matt had seen, Einreth had a way of being forceful about what she wanted, for better or worse.

    It was impossible to hide the fact that he was marching out again, so he didn¡¯t really try. As expected, the Council requested an explanation for his departure, and Matt gave them his prepared answer. The Sortenmoors had been an ulcer Kingdom¡¯s side for long enough, and he judged it a good time to put an end to the chaos and bloodshed there.

    Matt had no doubt that the Alliance would hear about it before his troops even made it outside the walls, but that would be part of the point. If he could bait some of their forces into an unwise assault into the Sortenmoors, it would prevent them from gathering enough soldiers for the kind of massive, overwhelming force that he worried would descend on them now that spring had begun. At the very least it would throw off some of their plans, since he was already hearing about troops pushing into the Copper Hills to fight with Morteth¡¯s small army.

    He was making the last few adjustments to the orders he wanted to leave behind for Parufeth, Karve, and the Council when there was a knock at his door. Matt looked up in surprise as it opened before he had gestured for the lifeguards to open it. His protectors tensed immediately, but then they settled back into resentful postures as they recognized the person who walked through. It was hard to lecture the soldiers about it; after all, a bodyguard would never be happy to hear that there were certain people they simply weren¡¯t allowed to inconvenience or stop in any way.

    Girtun, Voice of the Freeholders of Redspire, still smelled faintly like iron and smoke. The former blacksmith had a habit of borrowing a forge to work out some of his frustrations, something that Matt felt like he could understand easily enough. There was nothing that could make him want to pound something into shape like debating things with a bunch of noblemen.

    Normally, the Orc was cheerful and enthusiastic enough, but today he had an apprehensive look on his face. He wasn¡¯t alone, either, and Matt felt his eyes narrow as he studied the approaching newcomer.

    She was a Copperflame Goblin, one of the Low Folk that was commonly seen among the people of Redspire. Her eyes were a light red, so bright they almost looked pink at first glance, and her pale-yellow leathery skin seemed to contrast sharply with the plain brown dress she wore. Her head was covered by a plain white scarf as well, something he¡¯d seen among the servants in the palace on occasion.

    Her expression told her that this woman was no servant, however. She was staring at him with undisguised challenge, and if there was a hint of fear in her eyes, it was already half-buried beneath some other strong emotion that he failed to identify on her inhuman features.

    The newcomer came to a halt next to Girtun. Matt looked at the Orc, who cleared his throat and bowed slightly. ¡°My liege, it¡¯s my pleasure to introduce the new Voice chosen by the people of Redspire to replace Wokneth. This is Cholia.¡±

    Matt blinked. He¡¯d known that the Assembly was choosing another leader from among the freeholders, but he¡¯d been expecting it to take a little more time. He stood and came around the desk, offering his hand. ¡°Cholia. It is good to meet you.¡±

    Cholia, for her part, glanced at his hand with clear suspicion. She shook it carefully, as if expecting some trap. ¡°King Matthew.¡±

    Feeling a little uneasy, Matt gestured for them to sit and walked around his desk towards his own chair. ¡°It is good to hear that we once again have two Voices here in Redspire to represent the interests of the freeholders. Losing Wokneth so soon was a tragedy.¡±

    Girtun nodded as he took a seat, but Cholia¡¯s eyes narrowed. She had remained standing and spoke in a voice that was so husky that Matt had to concentrate to make out the words. ¡°You are planning to leave the city. After a very short stay.¡±

    Matt paused halfway to sitting down. He frowned slightly as he finished lowering himself into his seat. ¡°Yes. As I explained to the Council, the fighting in the Sortenmoors has gone on long enough.¡±

    ¡°You march to battle.¡± Her tone was almost accusing, now. ¡°Still with no Consort. No Heir.¡±

    His frown became far more pronounced now. He glanced at Girtun, whose face had grown a little pale now. ¡°That is correct, Voice Cholia.¡±

    Girtun coughed into his hand. ¡°The King has felt that it is his duty to¡ª¡±

    ¡°A King should not rely on soothsayers for his rule.¡± Cholia glanced at Girtun, and a flash of contempt filled her expression for a moment. ¡°Without an Heir, you risk the entire Kingdom. If you fall in battle, anyone might take the throne.¡±

    Matt felt a flicker of annoyance at her for pointing the problem out. He¡¯d listen to that kind of logic from Gorfeld or Tanya, but this woman barely knew him. ¡°I understand that danger. Unfortunately, it can¡¯t be helped.¡±

    Cholia met his eyes and shook her head. ¡°You could send your captains and stay here instead.¡±

    He felt his eyes narrow. Pain throbbed behind his forehead. ¡°No. I will not. The Sortenmoors require my personal intervention. I will not abandon my duty there.¡±

    She clenched her hands. ¡°Leaving Redspire is a way of abandoning your duties. In your absence, people have lost their homes. Your construction projects run wild while you march all over the Kingdom. The nobles plot and scheme to turn us out of our homes for their amusement, while you and your Maiden turn a blind eye. I won¡¯t¡ª¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s enough!¡± Girtun threw himself up out of his chair. His face had gone dark with anger and he stepped towards Cholia as if he was ready to strike her. ¡°I won¡¯t stand by and see the King¡¯s honor questioned by some ignorant¡ª¡±

    ¡°Girtun.¡± Matt felt a private burst of gratitude to the man for standing up for him, but he didn¡¯t let it enter his tone. Girtun looked back at him and visibly restrained his temper.

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry, my liege.¡±

    Matt shook his head. ¡°Differences of opinion are natural. Our Kingdom will come to depend on the ability to hear those differences, in time.¡±

    He turned his attention to Cholia, who was watching him warily. ¡°Now. Voice Cholia. Has Girtun informed you of your rights and responsibilities as a Voice?¡±

    She inclined her head, just barely. Her anger still smoldered in her eyes. ¡°Yes.¡±

    ¡°Good. That knowledge will be important in the days ahead.¡± He gave her a crooked grin. ¡°You are going to be the restraint on the Council for the benefit of the freeholders of the Kingdom. It is a difficult, demanding responsibility.¡±

    Then he paused and allowed a small portion of his own anger to infiltrate his words. ¡°Do you remember what authority it gives you over me, Voice Cholia?¡±

    Cholia¡¯s eyes narrowed. ¡°No.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s because it doesn¡¯t give you any. In fact, as King, I retain the right to overturn any decision you make, in person or in writing.¡± Matt allowed those words to hang in the air for a moment. When he continued, all pretense of friendliness was officially abandoned. ¡°It is not a role I asked for, Voice Cholia, unlike you. Yet it is by my efforts, and my decisions, that you have the right to stand here, in this room. It was my reforms that gave you freedom, and a voice in the Council. My predecessor was not nearly as lenient when it came to¡­ disagreements, I understand.¡±

    Some of the fire seemed to drain away from the newly appointed Voice, and Matt nodded. ¡°All the same, I appreciate your¡­ reminder about the concerns the people of Redspire have. I want to assure you I am trying to resolve those concerns as quickly as I possibly can. When I return from the Sortenmoors, I hope we can speak more.¡±

    He paused and then rose from his chair. ¡°Until then, I have preparations to make. You¡¯re dismissed.¡±

    For a moment, Cholia stood there, still glaring at him. Then she turned on her heel and strode out of the room, the tail of her headscarf flapping in her wake. Girtun gave Matt a brief bow and retreated as well, anger still stiffening his stride. Matt watched them both go, and then sat back down with a sigh.

    He couldn¡¯t just arrange for Cholia to be replaced. The Council would probably be happy to go along with it, given her outspoken nature and their native dislike for the Voices in general. At the same time, it would undermine the very institution that he¡¯d created as a limit on the power of the nobility. The fact that it limited him as well as them was a part of the design, not a bug he needed to remove from the system. If he really wanted to build a place that had no need for Kings, he needed to get them to trust a political structure that occasionally clashed with would-be dictators¡ªeven if it occasionally got in his way while he was acting like a dictator himself.

    The dull ache behind his eyes faded slightly as he forced himself to think through the issue. There was another, more important reason to leave the disagreeable Goblin in place. Cholia wasn¡¯t just some upstart who wanted to ruin his day for no reason. She¡¯d been chosen by the freeholders to represent them, which meant that she was a sign of what they were worried about. Replacing her wouldn¡¯t make those concerns go away. If anything, throwing out the troublesome Voice would only convince the freeholders in Redspire to demand to be heard in much more disruptive, violent ways.

    Matt drew in a deep breath and then let it trickle back out slowly. For the next few weeks, he wouldn¡¯t be in Redspire to handle things directly, but at the very least, he could trust Girtun to rein Cholia in a little when it came to the Council. Frankly, it might be good to show the Council what could happen if they ran around approving projects like the art museum without thinking about the consequences.

    Of course, it might also help if he reassured the freeholders that he was actually taking their concerns into consideration. He turned his attention to the desk again, shifting through the piles of parchment until he found the plans he had intended to leave for Parufeth. It showed the builders¡¯ next project, the one he wanted them to start after the Arsenal was done. Unlike the first building, this one would be specifically to provide housing for the people of Redspire, hopefully in a way that would make the residents forget all about how many of their houses he¡¯d knocked down, via earthquakes or construction crews.

    He considered the page for a moment longer and then shook his head. Something told him that Cholia wouldn¡¯t be in much of a mood to listen at the moment. Better to approach her and her backers once the Sortenmoors were under control, and the Alliance was somewhat less of a problem. Matt tucked the parchment back into the drawer of the desk and turned his attention back to the pages he¡¯d been working on before. There wasn¡¯t much time before he needed to go, and there seemed to be an infinite amount of work left to do.

    At least there wouldn¡¯t be much time left for surprises, either. That fact was the one comfort his short schedule provided him.

    ¡°Well, hello there!¡±

    Matt gave Tanya a glare as he rode up to where she sat on her icestag. The Maiden of Art seemed to ignore it, though, bending slightly to comfort her mount. Beyond her, the troops he¡¯d gathered were marching along the road towards the gates of Redspire, already moving along the route that would take them south and east towards the Sortenmoors.

    She continued to ignore him for a moment longer, though her two attendants, both once again riding their diminutive Wargs, exchanged worried glances. The third person with them, Melren, looked incredibly out of place on top of the dogelk, though Matt guessed his discomfort had to do with more than just the apparent lack of natural talent that Imps had when it came to riding things. Beyond the small group, Matt saw Captain Snolt catch sight of him and wince before slinking away with his massive, battlescarred Warg mount.This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

    Finally, as the soldiers continued to march past, Matt let a frustrated snarl work its way across his expression. ¡°Tanya, what are you doing here?¡±

    ¡°Well, you told me to help out however I could¡ªand so I remembered exactly how helpful magic has been for you. Both yours and mine, when it came to dealing with things in Shadowfen.¡± Her smile was both brilliant and malicious.

    Matt winced. She had been crucial in keeping him from being killed in Shadowfen, but she¡¯d almost ended up on the end of a traitor¡¯s sword as well. Even if it hadn¡¯t been a severe risk for her, the battles in the Sortenmoors weren¡¯t going to be some attempted assassination in a dining room. It was going to be sporadic combat interrupted by actual full-scale battles. There would be no place for Tanya in the middle of a melee.

    Before he could say that, however, Tanya continued in that too-bright voice. ¡°So I decided it would be the perfect chance for me to help you if I asked Melren to come with you on the way to the Sortenmoors! Since you aren¡¯t going to do anything that dangerous, you could always just keep up your studies and get that next Source secured.¡±

    He glanced at Melren, who looked mildly ashamed of himself. The Imp was technically Matt¡¯s magical instructor, though Matt had been too busy going to war and almost getting assassinated to learn anything new lately. Matt wondered briefly what kind of lines Tanya had fed the former noble to get him to agree to the plan. ¡°I won¡¯t have a whole lot of time available to study, Tanya. We¡¯ll be fairly busy.¡±

    ¡°Well, when you are busy, he¡¯ll just be around to keep an eye on things. He did save you from an assassination attempt, didn¡¯t he? You know, like I did?¡±

    The question made Matt pause. Technically, it was true. If Melren hadn¡¯t saved him, he¡¯d have been dead before Tanya had ever been kidnapped. ¡°And I¡¯m betting you¡¯re planning on coming along too?¡±

    Tanya rolled her eyes. ¡°No. Absolutely not. Warzones aren¡¯t really my thing, remember?¡±

    Relief warred with suspicion as he considered her. There was no chance that she¡¯d decided to be reasonable, and if she was already here and mounted¡­ ¡°Where are you going then?¡±

    ¡°Oh, I was just thinking of visiting Winterfast. You know, where all the Frost Elves live?¡± She smiled. ¡°Apparently, they have plenty of spells I might be able to use, and some of their nobles invited me to come see what things are like. It should give me the chance to get to know Margrave Grufen too, which should be nice.¡±

    Winterfast. Where a horde of formerly treacherous Frost Elves lived, and might like to kill someone attached to the man who had put their rebellion down. ¡°Tanya¡­¡±

    ¡°Yes?¡± She smiled a bit wider, the very picture of attentiveness.

    He sighed. ¡°If I order you to stay here, are you actually going to do it?¡±

    She squared her shoulders. ¡°No.¡±

    ¡°Fine.¡± He looked at Melren, thinking things over. The possibility of gaining more magic was not that bad of an idea. The Source he¡¯d already gained had helped him survive the ¡®duel¡¯ at Heartlight, and had given him the victory at the Battle of Seven Princes. Maybe a little more would help him put the Sortenmoors back together again. Matt looked back at Tanya, his decision made. ¡°If you¡¯re going north, you have to take lifeguards with you. Don¡¯t get in Grufen¡¯s way and don¡¯t cause him any trouble. You stay where he tells you, you run when he says. Understand?¡±

    Her grin faded a little, but Tanya nodded. Both of her attendants nodded as well, and Matt turned his attention to Melren. ¡°Can you manage to teach me a few of the mantras as we ride? Or will you need to wait until we make camp?¡±

    Melren relaxed slightly. He¡¯d obviously been waiting for a shouting match. ¡°I can do my best, sire. What is the next Element that you are going to start with?¡±

    Matt hesitated. ¡°I¡¯d heard that using opposites might help stabilize the second Source as you work on it, so I was thinking of using¡­¡±

    ¡°Air!¡± Tanya cackled in victory; she¡¯d used Air as her own first Element. ¡°Seems like you¡¯re jealous after all, cowboy. We¡¯ll have to see who learns more by the time you get back.¡±

    He gave her an exasperated scowl as he prompted Nelson to join the marching column. ¡°I was asking Melren, Tanya. Besides, I was thinking of using Spring for the second part, not Winter.¡±

    ¡°Oh sure, now you are. I think you¡¯re just jealous of how easily I saved you in Shadowfen.¡± She reached over as he passed her and grabbed his arm. Matt brought Nelson to a halt for a moment as she leaned in, her dark eyes flashing. ¡°Don¡¯t get yourself killed out there, cowboy king. I¡¯ll see you soon.¡±

    He nodded, and she leaned back. Then she trotted off with her attendants, headed for the bridge that led north. Matt looked back at her for a moment and then gestured for Melren to join him. They had a long march ahead, and spring had just begun.

    The formal end of winter hadn¡¯t exactly improved the weather by much, or the condition of the roads for that matter. Half-frozen snow still littered the muddy tracks they were following, and the supply carts that followed their column were pulled by aurochs half-covered in splatters of muck before they had made it out of sight of Redspire. Chilly bursts of wind brushed across Matt¡¯s face as he led Nelson along their route.

    Despite the cold, it seemed as if the troops were moving well, and in high spirits. A few of them even started to sing a marching song as they walked, while others were trading jokes and laughter as they moved. Matt watched them with faint incredulity. Surely they would have heard of the massive casualties the other banners had taken. They couldn¡¯t expect things to be better in the Sortenmoors, of all places. What were they expecting?

    Captain Snolt, who had forced his way through the lifeguards to ride next to Matt again, seemed amused by the question. ¡°Well, sire, you¡¯ve made a reputation out of leading your troops into battle and winning them glory. Even more than that, you¡¯ve shown them that a mere soldier might win himself a title if he works hard enough.¡± The Goblin eyed Melren, who was riding along beside him. ¡°Or lose one, if he doesn¡¯t.¡±

    Melren¡¯s eyes flashed. The former noble snarled at the Captain. ¡°I surrendered my title so I could serve, Goblin, not so I could bear insults from the likes of you. I¡¯ll remind you I was a Captain too, and for good reason. If you require a demonstration of why, I¡¯ll be happy to provide one at any time.¡±

    Snolt gave the Imp a smile that was more teeth than humor. ¡°Maybe after you ask someone to show you how to ride that dogelk, Imp. Unless you manage to fall off and break your neck before we make camp.¡±

    The Imp recoiled slightly¡ªa move that made his steed shift uneasily under him¡ªand Matt spoke up before Melren could throw back another insult. ¡°Gentlemen, if you¡¯re going to spend the next week attacking each other, do I need to send you back to Redspire so you can do it more effectively?¡±

    They both looked at him as if they were surprised, and he sighed. ¡°Captain, Melren gave up his title because he wanted to act as my advisor and not be locked away with the traitors. He¡¯s loyal, and the magic he taught me is the reason we won the Battle of Seven Princes.¡± He still hated that name, no matter how much everyone else seemed to enjoy it. ¡°As for you, Melren, Captain Snolt has served me loyally since the first time we fought together. He¡¯s a brave soldier, and while sometimes he can speak without thinking, he serves me just as you do.¡±

    He waited until both the Imp and the Goblin looked away. Then Matt continued. ¡°I don¡¯t expect you to be sworn brothers, but I do expect you to not bicker like children all the way to the Sortenmoors. Our Kingdom is counting on us. I won¡¯t fail because I was too distracted by a slap fight between two people who should have known better. Understand?¡±

    They both muttered something that might have been an agreement, and Matt felt another spike of pain run through his skull, severe enough to make him close his eyes and pinch the bridge of his nose again. The headaches had been happening more frequently lately. It was starting to worry him.

    He shoved those concerns aside and opened his eyes again. ¡°Captain Snolt, how long do you think it will take us to reach the Sortenmoors? You¡¯ve served there before, right?¡±

    The Goblin nodded. ¡°I¡¯d say five days, maybe six. The roads between Shadowfen and the moors aren¡¯t as good as they could have been, and this winter will have only made them worse.¡± He glanced up at the sky and grimaced. ¡°It¡¯ll be longer if we get rain or snow along the way. Maybe your Fortune will hold out long enough, though.¡±

    Fortune wasn¡¯t something that Matt liked trusting in, but he didn¡¯t have much of a choice this time. ¡°Then let¡¯s make sure that we make the most out of the daylight we have. Our friends are waiting.¡±

    The army made good time along the road, and they reached the city of Shadowfen after only two days. Their pace had been helped by the fact that they weren¡¯t carrying much in their wagons yet; Matt had planned on asking for supplies from the Goblins as they made their way further south. Hopefully, he would find the Matriarchs in a good mood, since he¡¯d stopped Suluth from murdering all of them a handful of weeks before. Perhaps they¡¯d even have some reinforcements ready for him.

    It was a hopeful sign when the Matriarchs were waiting to greet him at the gates of Shadowfen. All three of the elderly Goblins were there, and it seemed they were all recovering well from the wounds the assassins had given them. Matt smiled and dismounted from Nelson. ¡°Matriarchs, thank you for coming to speak with me.¡±

    Matriarch Rithune bowed low, barely wincing as the movement pulled on one of her wounds. ¡°Welcome to our city, my liege. We¡¯ve prepared quarters for your troops. Would you care to join us for a meal? We have a matter that requires your attention before you leave for the Sortenmoors.¡±

    Matt hesitated for a moment. The last thing he wanted was another diplomatic meeting with a Goblin that was placing demands on him. Then he nodded. It would be unwise to ignore a request for a simple meeting. Their loyalty was probably a little frayed already, given the number of their Shadow Hunters that had died at the Battle of Seven Princes. ¡°Of course, Matriarch. Lead the way.¡±

    She bowed again, and the three Matriarchs all turned to head towards the Citadel, the highest tower in the city and the seat of their power. Matt winced as he looked at the place; the last meeting he¡¯d been to in the Citadel had ended in an attempted regicide. Then he shrugged aside his misgivings. Whatever the Matriarchs wanted, it wasn¡¯t likely to involve any more assassins, at least.

    Matt examined the cluster of Goblins with ill-disguised unease. ¡°So. Assassins.¡±

    ¡°Yes, sire.¡± Matriarch Calthune nodded. ¡°These are the remnants of Suluth¡¯s assassins. They were some of her greatest assets.¡±

    He didn¡¯t doubt that she was telling the truth, but the small group of Goblins didn¡¯t seem like much to look at. Of course, it was probably part of the job. None of the six Goblins seemed like anything more than Blackleaf servants that had been dressed in plain clothing. The only real clue about what they might possibly be was the way both the lifeguards and the Blackleaf guards surrounding them were watching them carefully. It was like they expected the women to try to kill Matt or the Matriarchs at any moment.

    Matt studied them a moment longer, waiting for one of them to say something, or to make some sort of move. When nobody did, he looked at the Matriarchs. ¡°Are they still loyal to her?¡±

    One of the assassins spoke up, her voice rough. ¡°Hard to be loyal to a dead woman.¡±

    Matriarch Calthune gave the assassin a silent glare. ¡°They have forsworn their allegiance to the traitor. Not all of them did so; the ones who remained enemies have been hunted down and killed.¡±

    Matt raised his eyebrows. ¡°None surrendered or were captured?¡±

    Matriarch Rithune laughed, a decidedly hoarse sound. The wounds she had taken to her throat had robbed her of her former smooth tones. ¡°Those who were captured were questioned and sentenced, my liege. Only these six repented and provided the whereabouts of the others.¡±

    He winced. Torturing and executing people was not ideal, but he already had a lot on his plate when it came to reforming his Kingdom. Once he dealt with slavery, perhaps humane treatment of prisoners would be next. ¡°What do you want of me, then? I can send them to the Tower of Penance, if you like.¡±

    Matriarch Selthune blinked. ¡°The Tower of Penance?¡±

    ¡°I renamed the Tower of Blood.¡± Matt had taken care of that as soon as possible. ¡°It can hold them for as long as you like.¡±

    ¡°Ah.¡± Selthune glanced at the assassins and then shook her head. She had been the only Matriarch to remain unwounded during Suluth¡¯s assault, but her expression held no more mercy than the other two. ¡°By their treachery, these assassins have no more real use for us. We could not trust them to serve us without being carried away again.¡±

    Rithune broke in again, her voice severe and serene. ¡°Yet the covenant between our Houses and the throne of Redspire gives you the right to determine their fate, if they express remorse. Other rulers have often found such tools¡­ useful in their efforts.¡±

    Matt grunted. From what he¡¯d heard of Gorfeld¡¯s stories, the Red Sorceress would have mutated them into some kind of monstrosity, while the others would have tortured them to death or hunted them like wild game. He had no real need for any of that kind of thing, especially not with the Alliance already invading his Kingdom from two different directions.

    He opened his mouth to tell the Matriarchs to do with them whatever they wanted¡­ and then paused. His troops were marching to the Sortenmoors, where he could try to deal with the situation there. Morteth was holding strong in the east, but he doubted the Imp Margrave would be able to make much headway against whatever troops the Alliance had there. As long as the Oath of Enmity was driving those forces, they would never stop fighting, never lose morale enough to cut and run the way the Noble Races had.

    Perhaps, while he was hammering away at things in the Sortenmoors, he needed to use a different sort of tool against his enemies in the Copper Hills.

    Matt looked at the assassins. He tilted his head to one side. ¡°How do you want to die?¡±

    They looked back at him. Defiance still glimmered in their eyes, even as they glanced at the lifeguards around them. The one who had spoken before answered him. ¡°In the defense of our people, outsider. We serve our people and are proud to die for them!¡±

    She finished that last statement with a snarl, and Matt heard the Matriarchs start to mutter. He turned back and gestured for them to wait. Then he looked back at the assassins again.

    ¡°You believed that Suluth was the best ruler for your people. That she would have led the Kingdom to what it needed to be. Correct?¡±

    The assassins nodded, their eyes a little more wary now. They¡¯d probably been expecting executions or torture, not conversation. Defiance was a fire that ran through fuel quickly; Matt remembered that fairly well.

    He made his voice a bit harder. ¡°Suluth is dead. Teblas and Braden and Itrelia are all dead. The only ones left to serve are me, and the ones who support me. You know this?¡±

    Matt waited until he saw some of them nod. Their uncertainty was back. ¡°The only choice now is between me and the Alliance. They¡¯ve already taken the Copper Hills; the Leaffalls are working with them now.¡± There was a stab of pain through his head that made him pause. He continued in what he hoped was an even voice. ¡°The Alliance is not coming here for the good of your people. They won¡¯t care about the differences between the Blackleafs and the others. To them, you¡¯re all just monsters and beasts for them to hunt and eradicate. Do you disagree?¡±

    The talkative one¡¯s snarl was mixed with disbelief now. ¡°Perhaps it would be better to die than to be ruled by you, outsider.¡±

    ¡°You certainly have that choice, assassin.¡± Matt grinned. ¡°Say the word, and I¡¯ll have you executed, if that¡¯s the point you want to make. That way, when you get to the other side, you can boast about how little difference you made.¡±

    Her expression twisted in anger. ¡°And if we don¡¯t? You¡¯ll put us to work for you?¡±

    ¡°For the Kingdom, assassin.¡± Matt felt a chill run through him, but he pushed forward anyway. ¡°I¡¯ll send you to the Copper Hills. You¡¯ll be able to fight the enemies of your people that way until the war with the Alliance is done. Every royal commander you kill, you¡¯ll make the rest of the Kingdom safer. That way, if you die, you die doing what you claim is important. Fighting for the good of your people.¡±

    Matriarch Calthune hissed, her expression distorted with rage. ¡°Sire, you cannot mean to let these traitors free!¡±

    ¡°Not free, Matriarch. Their lives are bought with a price.¡± Matt spread his arms wide. ¡°Once the war is over, you can do as you please. You can even try for my head again, if you want¡ªbut first, you take care of what has to be done for the Kingdom to survive. If I were you, that would be how I would want to die. What do you say?¡±

    The assassins stared at him. At some point during his words, their anger had shifted to shock and disbelief. Their apparent leader was watching him with wide eyes, her jaw slightly slack. He glanced at the Matriarchs. ¡°Do you object, Matriarchs?¡±

    Calthune seemed about to, but Selthune put a hand to her shoulder. Rithune looked at both of them, and then nodded. ¡°No, sire. As the ancient promises say, their deaths are yours to decide.¡± Her lips worked into something approaching a smile. ¡°I don¡¯t believe a ruler has ever chosen old age before.¡±

    ¡°That depends on how successful they are. After all, I¡¯m still alive, aren¡¯t I?¡± Matt looked back at the assassins, who were now gritting their teeth. He smiled. ¡°Though they did get closer than the others that tried. Well?¡±

    He extended his hand. The gesture was an alien one, he was sure, but the message behind it was clear enough. His lifeguards tensed, their hands going to their weapons, and the assassins looked at him as if he had gone insane.

    Then one of them stepped forward, her eyes burning. ¡°For the Kingdom, then.¡± The others followed, shaking his hand, one by one, until they all had.

    Matt looked back to the Matriarchs. ¡°Give them whatever equipment they need. They can leave tomorrow, after my troops have marched out. Give them an escort south to the Grim Hollows; the swamps might not be the best place for an army, but I¡¯d wager they can get through just fine. Right?¡±

    The assassins smirked and nodded, and Matt tried to set aside his own unease. ¡°If they give you any trouble, or show any sign at all of going back on their word, then they are yours. Deal with them as you see fit. This is the only chance they get; I don¡¯t have the time or luxury to hand out another one.¡±

    Their smirks had faded into seriousness now, and Matt nodded. He didn¡¯t know if he was being foolish or brilliant at the moment, but at the very least, he had a good chance of turning six exceptionally deadly tools from enemies to assets. It was worth the risk, especially if they killed at least a few of the Alliance leaders without him having to deal with it directly.

    Besides, if they wound up succeeding and then coming back to try to kill him again, at least he¡¯d only have them after him, instead of the Alliance. He¡¯d take six killers over six nations any day.

    At least, that was what he kept telling himself as he rode away from Shadowfen the next day, trying to convince himself not to look behind him for killers coming up in his wake.

 B3Ch3: The Sortenmoors

    In the end, it took another four days to reach the borders of the Sortenmoors.

    It would have been quicker, but unfortunately, Snolt¡¯s hopes for good weather were ruined by an early rainstorm that had reduced the roads to slush and clinging mud for two full days. The initially high spirits of the soldiers had slowly dampened as they continued to forge their way through the resulting mire, headed for whatever chaos still raged ahead.

    Fortunately, Tanya¡¯s suggestion had paid off in the meantime. Melren had corrected some of the mantras that Matt had been using to try to form his next source, as well as suggesting some better ones. As a result, he¡¯d made a surprising amount of progress, though he doubted he would gain new spells to use anytime soon.

    By the time they finally reached the Sortenmoors, Matt felt as if the entire army breathed a sigh of relief. The road they were following had grown more and more rocky and uphill as they¡¯d followed it. Wet rocks didn¡¯t provide that much more purchase than mud, and he couldn¡¯t count the number of swearing, mildly bruised soldiers that had needed to be helped up after a bad fall. The fact that the trees were thinning out the higher they went was only a mild benefit; the increased amount of sunlight was balanced out by the wind sweeping across the grasslands to make the soldiers shiver in their armor.

    In the end, they finally crested one last hill, and came to the village of Sorbriar, the northernmost settlement within the Sortenmoors.

    Or at least, the burnt-out ruins where it had once stood.

    Matt felt a sinking feeling as they drew closer to the blackened, shattered remnants of the town. He¡¯d seen ruins before and had burnt villages during his raids into enemy territory. Something about this place was different, though. There were signs it had been burnt down multiple times. Most of the buildings had been destroyed at least once, but there had been attempts to rebuild here and there, only for yet another fire to sweep through. The crude, scattered grave markers just outside of the town showed what had happened to those who hadn¡¯t run fast enough to escape each time.

    In the end, the destruction had been too much, or the few remaining holdouts had finally been hunted down. By the signs of it, nobody had returned to the place in weeks. Snow covered the few fragile buildings that remained standing.

    The scouts that Snolt had dispatched arrived a moment later, and Matt grimaced as the Captain relayed their findings. ¡°Nobody around, and no supplies either, sire. We¡¯re lucky that we brought what we did, otherwise we¡¯d be rationing what¡¯s left.¡±

    ¡°We might have to do that yet.¡± Matt glanced at Melren, who had been going over the maps each night while Matt practiced mantras. ¡°How much further before we reach the next settlement?¡±

    ¡°The very next village was Tolworth¡¯s Den, but we had news that it was burnt down weeks ago.¡± Melren shook his head, consulting a parchment where he had sketched his own crude notes. ¡°The next place that sounded like it was still intact was the town of Greyspring, two days further southwest.¡±

    Snolt rode up next to the former nobleman and peered over his shoulder, the massive Warg he rode giving him more than enough height to get a good view. ¡°He has the right of it, sire. We might as well keep moving, unless you still want to rest here for the night.¡±

    Matt shook his head. ¡°No. Let¡¯s keep moving.¡± He glanced at the burnt-out shells of the village buildings again. There had to be some places that were still intact, didn¡¯t there? ¡°Make sure we keep our scouts looking as well. We know Teblas took a lot of his bandits with him to the Battle of Seven Princes, but there¡¯s probably more than enough still wandering this place.¡±

    Snolt nodded and set about organizing the patrols. Matt looked around, searching for any signs, but found only snow-streaked, muddy grasslands. In the distance, he could see the Blackridge Mountains, part of which made up the Onyx Clan territories. The headwaters of the Blackstone River were up there, which formed the southern border of the Sortenmoors as it flowed past on its journey to join up with the River Crimson. Together, they flowed south and into the Lakes of Glass, part of the territory belonging to the Order of Lion¡¯s Roar.

    It was terrain that seemed both beautiful and dreary all at once, especially with the remnants of the past night¡¯s rainstorm still turning the sky grey. It almost felt like being back home in Wyoming, with the broad open skies and wind sweeping from the mountains, but then a Warg barked and he was brought back to his current situation with a jarring sensation.

    He shook his head over the distraction and set Nelson moving again. Another two days was more of a delay than he¡¯d hoped, but as long as he found what he was looking for, it wouldn¡¯t be for nothing.

    The town of Greyspring was a minor settlement in the Sortenmoors. Before Matt had arrived in the world, it had boasted a population of not less than two thousand peasants, made up of Wizards under the rule of the Circle of Celrii. Unlike most settlements in the area, it had been built with defense in mind, with a wooden palisade around the town proper. It had held out for at least three days during the Red Sorceress¡¯ invasion of the Sortenmoors.

    In typical fashion for her, she¡¯d rewarded their stubborn defense with butchery. She¡¯d slaughtered half of the population, reduced the survivors to serfdom, and then forcibly moved in a mixed population of Low Folk Orcs, Goblins, and Imps to take possession of the newly vacant fields and homes. Rule of the place had been given over to a Leaffall Orc noblewoman who had impressed her. The town had then been left to adjust to the new circumstances as the Red Sorceress had continued through the rest of the Sortenmoors, subjugating all that stood in her way.

    Greyspring had then simply continued on, with minimal interference beyond the occasional harsh taxes and officious demands, until rebellion and invasion had swept in again.

    Teblas had taken the town without any real effort, winning over the Leaffall nobles in charge of it with a combination of threats and bribes. He had moved on, trying to subdue more of the Sortenmoors, but as the area turned into a bloodbath, Suluth¡¯s Shadow Hunters had launched a raid. They¡¯d breached the walls and struck at the nobles in charge, killing them all along with a few serfs to set an example. When Teblas had sent banners to retake the town, the Hunters had retreated, taking some of the supplies as they went.

    It had set a tone for the rest of the fall and most of the winter. Teblas¡¯ soldiers would arrive, only to leave when they received new orders. Others would come¡ªmembers of the Crown Guard, or Suluth¡¯s Hunters, or some other random group of bandits¡ªand take some of their due, occasionally damaging the town¡¯s walls or buildings as they went. The patience of the townspeople had lasted for almost two months.

    At that point, the town had started to fight back. A half-banner of Teblas¡¯ men had been turned away after a short, sharp battle at the walls. An unidentified group of militia had launched their own small raiding party and had lost half of their number to arrows from the walls. More bandits gave the town a try as food became scarce and desperation drove them to try their luck. Aside from more burned buildings and more shallow graves, Greyspring remained unphased.

    Matt kept that in mind as he listened to the alarm bells ring when his army marched into sight of the place.

    Unlike Sorbriar, the town was obviously still full of life. Perhaps a quarter of the buildings had been burnt, but some of them showed signs of active repair. He saw movement on the walls, the shapes of archers that were pointing in his direction. There weren¡¯t any flags; perhaps the serfs here had decided that they no longer wanted any.

    After a short argument with Snolt and Melren, he led his lifeguard forward, riding ahead of his column. He wasn¡¯t entirely convinced that he would have to fight in this place, and if he did, he wanted to be sure it wasn¡¯t some kind of miscommunication. One of his lifeguards carried a grey flag of parley; another was carrying the flag of the Iron Kingdom.

    That flag, in particular, was new. Tanya had apparently developed it while he was busy fighting for his life in the Grim Hollows. It was simple enough, with a red stripe on the bottom and a white one on the top. A wedge of blue took up the side closest to the pole, with six gold stars surrounding a seventh in the center of it. She¡¯d claimed the red represented the bravery and sacrifice of the people, blue represented the justice and determination of the Kingdom, and white represented the peace that he was trying to build as King. The stars were supposed to represent the six High Clans, with the one in the center representing him.

    Matt thought that she¡¯d mostly just gotten lazy and fallen back on the red, white, and blue of the United States, but it was a serviceable enough flag. It wasn¡¯t like he wanted to make one of his own, after all.

    If the townspeople had seen it before, they didn¡¯t give any sign of it. Instead, they finished locking the doors shut, and then waited as his little group drew near, obviously expecting him to announce himself. Matt brought Nelson to a stop on the road and drew in a deep breath. His raids into the Order of Griffon¡¯s territory had at least given him practice announcing himself to terrified townspeople.

    ¡°People of Greyspring! I am King Matthew, ruler of the Kingdom of Iron. I¡¯ve come to put an end to the bloodshed here in the Sortenmoors. Open your gates and allow us to take shelter here with you.¡±

    There was a hurried conversation of some kind on the walls. Matt thought it almost reached the point where they were shouting at each other. He tried not to look like he was straining to hear what they were saying.

    Eventually, however, one of the archers shouted back down to him. ¡°How do we know you are who you say you are?¡±

    The lifeguards stirred, but Matt settled them back into their saddles with a glance. ¡°I¡¯m here with nine banners of Crown Guard, and messages from Redspire. They¡¯ll all confirm my identity.¡±

    He heard a few loud curses from the top of the wall. The same voice shouted back at him. ¡°Your pardon, sire, but there¡¯s been a lot of armies riding around here lately. Some of them kept using flags of all kinds to mark themselves. Not all of them were honest.¡±

    It was a reasonable concern. He smiled. ¡°Is there any way I can prove myself, then? I would use my magic, but I¡¯ve been told it is a little¡­ unnerving.¡±

    There was another whispered conversation, and then a new voice yelled down at him. ¡°No magic! If you want to show us the truth, though, take off your helmet.¡±

    This time, Matt completely understood the uneasy shifting among his guards. Removing his helmet seemed like a good way to get shot in the face. ¡°May I ask why?¡±

    ¡°The tales say that King Matthew isn¡¯t from our world. That he¡¯s some kind of demon that killed the Red Sorceress and brought the curse of war down on us. He rides a giant monster and can break the earth as he walks. He¡¯s a Human, they say, and his eyes are strange.¡± The unseen speaker grew more confident as he spoke. Matt tried to ignore the muffled chuckles among his guards. ¡°If you¡¯re really him, you¡¯ll be able to show us just by taking your helmet off. Unless you¡¯re just some Knight or Wizard who feels like they¡¯re being clever.¡±

    Matt let himself think about it for a moment longer. Then he nodded. ¡°Fine then. If anyone tries anything, though, my troops won¡¯t let any of you escape.¡± Silence answered him, and he sighed.

    He reached up and unbuckled the straps holding his helmet in place. A moment later, he pulled it off and set it on Nelson¡¯s saddle horn. ¡°There. Can you see me?¡±

    Up on the walltop, he saw townsfolk peeking over the edge of the palisade. They were a curious mix; he saw Orcs and Wizards side by side, without any apparent animosity. Apparently, the constant fighting had made for curious alliances. Maybe it would spread to the rest of the Kingdom, if he could just convince everyone to stop trying to wipe his people out.Unauthorized content usage: if you discover this narrative on Amazon, report the violation.

    More and more people were peering at him from the walls; he could see whispered arguments starting as they debated what they¡¯d seen. He glanced at his guards, who seemed both impatient and amused. Then he looked back along the road, where his soldiers were still coming on their weary way, looking for rest.

    Matt looked back at the wall top. ¡°Send someone out. They can see if my eyes are strange, and then they can come back to the rest of you.¡±

    One of the Orcs scowled down at him. ¡°And give you a hostage?¡±

    ¡°I have nearly as many soldiers as you probably have people inside those walls. If I wanted, the whole town is my hostage.¡± Matt tried to restrain his annoyance, but he was just as tired and cold as the rest of his troops. ¡°Just send someone out. Unless none of you are brave enough?¡±

    The demand seemed to provoke another round of arguments, at least until one of them threw his hands up in the air. ¡°Enough, I¡¯ll just go. If he kills me, then at least you¡¯ll know to kill him back, won¡¯t you?¡±

    With that, the man grabbed a rope from one of the others and started to rappel down the face of the palisade. Others on the top of the wall were holding the rope as he descended, letting it play out as he got closer to the ground.

    When the man reached the ground, Matt dismounted from Nelson and walked forward. The lifeguards stirred, but he waved them back again. All the same, he kept his hand on his mace and studied the man carefully.

    It looked like he was a Wizard or a Knight of some kind; honestly, Matt didn¡¯t know if he¡¯d be able to tell the difference when it came to one of their peasants. They had the same overlarge pupils of all their kin, though, and a wiry build that seemed to suggest some kind of hunter rather than a farmer or builder. A knife was sheathed in his belt, and he had an axe on his other hip.

    Matt walked Nelson a little further out in front of his lifeguards, and then let the man come to him. He saw the townsperson take a few confident strides. Then his eyes seemed to lock onto Matt¡¯s face, and he stumbled to a halt.

    For a long moment, the man just stared. Matt looked back, feeling another twinge of impatience. He spread his arms. ¡°Well?¡±

    The man slowly went to one knee. ¡°King Matthew. Welcome to Greyspring.¡± He paused. ¡°I hope you take no offense at my words. Sometimes, when you hear rumors, it can seem¡ª¡±

    Matt waved the words away with one hand. He swung his way out of Nelson¡¯s saddle. It felt absurdly good to be on his own feet for a few moments. ¡°I understand.¡± He stepped forward and extended his hand. The man stared at it, not seeming to understand. ¡°In my world, we shake hands to show trust. Stand up. Grab it.¡±

    The man stood slowly. He cautiously grabbed Matt¡¯s hand and seemed a little surprised when Matt simply shook it and released his grip. Matt smiled. ¡°There. Now we¡¯ve met. Will you let us in, please? It has been a long road.¡±

    Still staring at him in apparent awe, the man had to shake himself to recover from his daze. ¡°Y-yes. Of course, sire.¡± He spun around and looked up at the wall. ¡°It¡¯s him! Open the gates!¡±

    ¡°Are you sure? He doesn¡¯t seem all that much like a demon.¡±

    Matt cocked his head to the side and raised an eyebrow. ¡°Do I need to?¡±

    There was a brief silence, and the man outside the wall grew a little pale. Then one of the men on top of the wall spoke again, his voice showing a little more strain. ¡°N-no, sire. Just one moment. We¡¯ll open the gates.¡±

    Matt nodded, feeling a little relieved. The last thing he needed was to burn one of the last towns left standing in the Sortenmoors. He looked at the man who¡¯d come to meet him. ¡°Who is in charge here? Did any of the nobles survive?¡±

    The man shook his head. ¡°No, sire. I don¡¯t think any of their heirs made it out of the Sortenmoors.¡±

    It didn¡¯t seem like the serf was all that broken up by the problem, either. Matt stifled a grin and tried to look serious. ¡°I suppose that means you owe your service to me, then.¡±

    There was a flash of reluctance and resentment in the other man¡¯s expression. ¡°Yes, sire.¡±

    ¡°Good.¡± Matt smiled. ¡°That means, as of this moment, you¡¯re all free.¡±

    His statement made the man blink in surprise. He glanced at the lifeguards, who were watching him impassively. When he looked back at Matt, his shock gave way to astonishment. ¡°Free? You mean¡ª¡±

    ¡°You¡¯ll have all the rights of a freeholder. That means you can arm yourselves, establish an Assembly, own property, and travel where you wish.¡± Matt frowned slightly. ¡°I had sent a declaration¡­¡±

    ¡°We heard, but there was some¡­ debate about what it all meant.¡± The man was grinning now, as if he¡¯d somehow won the lottery. ¡°The Voice said you meant it. That it was all true. We should have listened. Parthed! The Voice was right! We¡¯re all free! Tell the others!¡±

    There was a pause, and then multiple shouts rang out on the wall. Some of them were starting to yell questions down at the man in front of the gates, but Matt stepped forward.

    ¡°You said something about a Voice. What did you mean?¡±

    The man¡¯s smile had grown almost manic. ¡°The Voice of the Sortenmoors. They¡¯ve been waiting for you. We¡¯ve all been waiting for you.¡±

    Before Matt could ask another question, the town¡¯s gates abruptly swung open. Matt looked up to find a sudden flood of curious townspeople streaming out. His lifeguards began to step forward, but Matt simply straightened up. He didn¡¯t think his enemies would have been able to slip an assassin in here. He was still wearing most of his armor anyway, and if a portion of the people in the Sortenmoors had really been waiting for him¡­

    Perhaps his mission to this place wasn¡¯t quite as doomed as he¡¯d believed. He smiled and stepped forward into the welcoming crowd just as the town¡¯s bell began to clamor a different tune across the windswept moors. It was a much better day.

    ¡°We did hear about the proclamations, of course. There was the messenger, and then the rumors too.¡± The town Reeve, an Orc named Sarn, shook his head. He was the fifth person to hold the title in three months; the others had all fled or been killed by raiders from one side or the other. ¡°The Lady Nebband told us that there had to be some mistake. She instructed us to ignore it and get back to work. When she died, there were other riders, other messengers. Some said you¡¯d been killed, others that you were lying. Many of them tried to find recruits, to persuade the town to join one side or another. It was hard to know who to trust.¡±

    Matt nodded. He was eating at a table with most of the surviving town elders, all of whom seemed relieved and overjoyed to have someone they could rely on to come to their defense. Hopefully, they would remain just as enthusiastic when they realized his banners hadn¡¯t come to stay. ¡°I am sorry that there has been so much chaos. The Kingdom has needed to face many enemies since I took the throne.¡±

    Melren, eating across from him, nodded. ¡°Indeed. Our King has already defeated most of the rebels, and turned back an invasion from the Noble Races. Soon, he¡¯ll do the same to the Alliance of Light.¡±

    ¡°The sooner, the better, sire.¡± The man who¡¯d greeted him outside the wall¡ªwho he¡¯d eventually learned was named Ar¡¯then¡ªgrinned and nudged a Goblin sitting next to him. They shared a chuckle. ¡°From what your men have said, you¡¯re fierce enough to have them trying to swim the Blackstone.¡±

    Maybe it was time to temper expectations a little. ¡°I certainly hope so. At the very least, I mean to see the Sortenmoors united again under one banner.¡±

    The Reeve broke out into a wide smile. He smacked the table and laughed. ¡°That would be a sight to see, sire. These days, it seems like the whole country will never see peace.¡±

    Matt shook his head. ¡°In any case, one of the things we currently lack is a good picture of what the situation is here. Not much of the news about the Sortenmoors has made it back to Redspire.¡±

    The newly liberated freeholders exchanged looks. It was the Reeve who spoke again. ¡°That would make sense, sire. News normally gets carried by merchants or travelers, and it isn¡¯t safe for either here at the moment.¡±

    ¡°Do you have maps? Ones that could show me where our enemies might be located?¡±

    Ar¡¯then was the one who answered, looking a little grim. ¡°No, sire. Most of the groups are keeping their camps hidden, especially these days. We know which of the towns and villages have survived, but aside from that¡­¡±

    The Reeve grunted. ¡°Actually, we know where one of the camps might be. There was a group that used to be loyal to Teblas, before he went east. We don¡¯t know the exact location, but they¡¯re nearby.¡± He gave Matt an apologetic look. ¡°They send riders every few days, looking for what they call tribute.¡±

    Matt nodded. ¡°Even that much would be helpful. Any information is better than nothing.¡±

    The Reeve nodded. ¡°Well, don¡¯t you worry. Now that you¡¯re here, I¡¯m sure the Voice will probably give you all the reports that you might need.¡±

    Snolt spoke up before Matt could. ¡°The Voice? We have a couple of those in Redspire, but we don¡¯t know anything about one here.¡±

    The freeholders looked at each other again and then back at Matt. ¡°The Voice¡­ well, once they heard the proclamation, there were a few towns and villages that believed it applied immediately. So they started forming militias to hunt down anyone allied to Teblas or the Alliance.¡±

    Ar¡¯then nodded. ¡°Yeah, though they were a little extreme about it. Eventually, a bunch of them got together and chose someone to lead them. Called themselves the Voice of the Sortenmoors. Never seen them, though. Just heard about them running around the moors, hunting down people they called traitors and fighting whoever got in their way.¡±

    ¡°I see.¡± It was both good and bad to hear that he had explicitly friendly forces in the area. If the Voice was a true ally and would enthusiastically support Matt¡¯s forces, it would be an incredible foothold in the Sortenmoors. More realistically, if the Voice of the Sortenmoors had just been using Matt as a figurehead to rally around, and took exception that an actual King had shown up to retake control, things were going to be far uglier.

    He exchanged a look with Melren, who seemed to have similar misgivings. Then he looked back at the Reeve and forced another smile. ¡°Well, here¡¯s to the hope that we¡¯ll put an end to all of this trouble soon. For the Kingdom of Iron!¡±

    The surrounding diners raised their own voices to echo his words, and he continued to smile as his mind whirled with plans. He hadn¡¯t seen an enemy yet, but something told Matt that he was going to run out of time. Soon.

    ¡°You wanted to see me, sire?¡±

    ¡°Yes.¡± Matt didn¡¯t immediately look up from the map he was studying. It showed a much clearer picture of the Sortenmoors than he¡¯d had back in Redspire.

    According to the Reeve and the rest of the townspeople, there were only ten towns still intact across the entire Sortenmoors, along with about two dozen much smaller villages. Two other towns had more or less become independent forts for the winter, much like Greyspring had. Four more they considered contested, as militias belonging to remnants of Teblas¡¯ supporters and other armed groups fought over them.

    It was the last three towns that drew his attention the most. All three were located in the southernmost parts of the moors, on the banks of the Blackstone River. Coorsford, Brensville, and Bridgeton were all supposedly still intact, and they represented the southern gateways into the Sortenmoors. If the Alliance of Light wanted to cross into his territory, they¡¯d have to cross the rivers at one of those three spots.

    Unfortunately, the people of Greyspring had very little information on who owned those three towns. At least one of them had been fought over recently; Brensville was probably actually still in the hands of either the Alliance or Teblas¡¯ loyalists, if there was any difference at this point. He guessed that Coorsford had been taken as well, since it was east of Brensville, and the Alliance could have taken it on the way to reinforcing Teblas before the Battle of Seven Princes. Of Bridgeton, further to the west, he¡¯d heard nothing beyond the fact that it seemed to have not been burned.

    All of which meant that of the three crossings he needed to control, two were in enemy hands, and the third was a mystery¡ªand all he had to work with were some enthusiastic freeholders and nine banners of Crown Guard. It wasn¡¯t exactly a recipe for success.

    He sighed and pushed himself away from the table. ¡°Thank you, Captain. Have we gotten reports back from the scouts?¡±

    Snolt nodded and pointed to a place on the map near Greyspring. ¡°Yes, sire. We found the bandit camp. They¡¯re only a short distance from here.¡±

    ¡°Excellent.¡± Matt smiled. ¡°Who found it? Was it Gwelfed?¡±

    ¡°It was, sire.¡± Snolt smirked. ¡°I don¡¯t call her the best for no reason.¡±

    Matt nodded. He looked at the spot where Snolt had indicated the camp existed. It was located a short distance to the south and east. His soldiers might be able to reach it in half a day¡¯s march. ¡°How many troops are there?¡±

    ¡°Gwelfed said there were probably three or four banners there. No real soldiers, just militia.¡± Snolt hesitated, as if remembering the Irregulars that had fought at the Battle of Seven Princes. ¡°At least, not highly trained militia, sire. She said she saw a few flags from Leaffall and the Alliance, but no armored forces.¡±

    For a moment, Matt debated his options. He felt the urgency of securing the crossings. If he could capture Brensville and Coorsford, it would keep the Alliance on their own side of the river that much more easily. At the same time, if he went straight for the river, he¡¯d be leaving a small army in his rear, where they could raid his supply lines. Besides, while Greyspring was excited about his arrival now, they wouldn¡¯t stay that way if he ignored bandits that were harassing them.

    As he studied the map, he felt a brief moment of pity for Teblas. The rebel had probably faced similar threats from militia on Matt¡¯s side, and he¡¯d wasted valuable time chasing them around the map. If Matt spent the early spring doing something similar, would he find himself wasting his own forces the same way? In a handful of weeks, the Alliance would be descending on his Kingdom like a hammer. Was chasing down a pack of bandits the way to prepare for it?

    Was there even a way to really prepare for the incoming invasion? Nine banners weren¡¯t going to stop the Alliance from smashing their way into the Sortenmoors. At best, he¡¯d be able to slow them down, if he wasn¡¯t overwhelmed completely from the start. If he was beaten at the crossings, he¡¯d have to retreat quickly¡ªsomething which would be severely harder to do if there were still a massive number of bandits all across his back lines.

    Matt looked up at Snolt again. ¡°Were the bandits aware of us? Did they have sentries out?¡±

    Snolt shook his head. ¡°There was no sign that they knew we were in the area, sire. Gwelfed said she saw a few sentries, but not a whole lot.¡±

    Those answers helped him make his decision. ¡°All right. Get the army up and moving. We¡¯re hitting this bandit camp. I want the troops ready to move by tomorrow morning. Along with whatever volunteers want to come from the town.¡±

    ¡°Volunteers, sire?¡± Snolt couldn¡¯t help but frown. It was obvious he didn¡¯t like the idea of marching into battle alongside militia of any kind.

    Matt nodded. ¡°They¡¯ll be helpful, Captain. Trust me. Besides, there¡¯ll be plenty of fighting ahead of us.¡±

    The Goblin grinned widely. He was always cheerful going into battle. ¡°Yes, my liege.¡± He saluted and then left, a noticeable spring in his step.

    Matt shook his head over the Captain¡¯s enthusiasm. His finger traced a new path over the map¡¯s surface. He¡¯d have to find a way to reduce the number of crossings the Alliance could use to invade. After he managed that, he could start hunting down their patsies on this side of the Blackstone River. Hopefully, he¡¯d be able to do it all before the enemy could stop him.

 B3Ch4: Setting a Trap

    A brief night and a quick march later, Matt found himself crouched inside of a jumble of rocks, peering at a disorganized camp a few hundred meters away.

    If they hadn¡¯t been his enemies, he would have been ashamed of the bandits. Gwelfed had mentioned seeing patrols, but it was clear they hadn¡¯t been very motivated to do their jobs that morning. Nearly his entire force was already in place, ready to strike, and the bandits were all still cooking their lunch.

    Snolt crouched beside him. ¡°We¡¯re in position, sire.¡±

    Matt nodded, still watching the camp. He saw no sign of Alliance troops, but in the last fight he¡¯d faced, the Alliance had been able to hide things until it was too late. Uneasy, he glanced at Melren. ¡°Do you see any illusions? Any tricks that could hide enemy troops?¡±

    The Imp made a few brief gestures. Then he shook his head. ¡°No, sire. They appear to be just what they are.¡±

    Melren seemed almost as disgusted as Matt, and Snolt snorted in amusement. The two men shared a brief moment of respect¡ªwhatever feelings they had about each other, at least they weren¡¯t those poor idiots¡ªbefore they returned to ignoring each other. Matt shrugged off the byplay between his allies and went back to watching the camp.

    They hadn¡¯t even camped in a good spot! The idiots had picked a small valley that was out of the wind, but it meant they were surrounded by high ground. An enemy could sneak up on them from any direction, and the rain would probably leak down into their camp, practically turning it into a lake. He shook his head over the spot, and then nodded.

    He made a gesture, and the signaler for the Royal First blew on her horn. In answer, some of his troops started forward, their weapons ready and their eyes on the bandits below.

    The horn seemed to paralyze the bandits for a few crucial moments. There were shouts as they finally caught sight of Matt¡¯s banners coming over the stones towards them. Only three of his banners were going to fight, with the rest remaining hidden. It meant the bandits would technically have a slight advantage, but Matt doubted it would matter.

    Matt¡¯s troops formed a battle line as they marched closer, with the Fourth Footmen marching just behind the Second Spears, while the Seventh Riders swept out on the flanks. He hadn¡¯t gone to the effort of tracking these bandits down just to let them escape.

    For a few frantic moments, it looked like the bandits were about to form up and face his troops. Then Captain Crep¡¯s Footmen paused for a moment and launched a volley of crossbow bolts, arcing them over the Orc¡¯s heads to land among the milling crowd of raiders.

    The carnage was instant. Steel bolts punched through the unarmored bandits in a devastating combination of blows. Bandits that had been drawing back their own bows to fire paused as their friends fell, panic and shock clear on their faces even across the wide distance. Perhaps they were only used to fighting unarmed farmers or harassing towns, but they didn¡¯t seem prepared to see their own friends and companions cut down.

    Wounded screamed and yelled for help, and the raiders that had been preparing to face the Spears stepped back from the front lines. Those who were watching the Warg Riders get closer looked far less enthusiastic as the cavalry closed in on the sides. As their friends pulled back, others found their bravery flagging. One by one, then in a rush, the bandits threw down their arms and ran. Matt felt a grin cross his face as he heard the despairing cries of the enemy commanders as their army dissolved around them, their people already heading for the hills.

    He glanced at Snolt, who seemed almost disappointed. ¡°Signal for the Seventh to pursue any runners after their first charge. I don¡¯t think Creps is going to need their help.¡±

    Snolt grunted sourly, even as he nodded for the signaler to change their pattern. ¡°True enough, sire. They might not even last¡ª¡±

    The Goblin was still speaking when an entire side of the bandit forces abruptly broke away from the rest. Shouts chased after them, and then arrows and spears as the bandits turned on each other. Matt blinked in shock as the cavalry swept in on their flanks, smashing what was left of their formation to fragments before wheeling away to chase after the deserters. As the remaining bandits tried to turn and fight the cavalry, the Second Spears roared and charged in, the impact driving the remaining bandits backwards. It was like watching a pack of wolves hunt sheep.

    To the rear, the Fourth Foot fired another volley of crossbow bolts. The shots rained into the thick of the bandits like a grim rain, and the remaining morale among the fools completely broke. They ran, any remaining organization among them disintegrating.

    Almost as quickly as it had begun, the battle was over. Those bandits who weren¡¯t already dead or running began throwing up their hands in surrender, and the rest of Matt¡¯s soldiers focused on chasing down the ones that were trying to escape. The entire thing devolved into a complete rout, something that left a dissatisfied twist in Matt¡¯s gut.

    It was all just a waste. If Teblas had just stayed loyal, these men would have been marching under his orders. Even afterwards, why were they still trusting in the Alliance to speak for them, now that Teblas was dead?

    Matt shook his head and looked at Snolt, who seemed just as unhappy as he was, though likely for different reasons. ¡°Find me their commanders, if any of them will admit to it.¡±

    Snolt nodded. ¡°You want us to escort them back to Greyspring? We might be able to make it there by nightfall. Then maybe tomorrow we could find someone better to fight.¡±

    ¡°No.¡± Matt grinned at Snolt¡¯s obvious surprise. ¡°I want you to tell them that anyone who wants to stay out of prison just has to tell me where another bandit camp might be. Anyone who does can head south across the rivers.¡±

    Both Snolt and Melren looked at him as if he¡¯d lost his mind. Melren was the first to speak, his words careful. ¡°We¡¯re¡­ letting them go, sire?¡±

    Matt chuckled. ¡°Of course. I don¡¯t want to have to feed them, after all.¡± He shook his head. ¡°Besides, we¡¯re taking their weapons, and we¡¯ll tell them that the next time we see them on our side of the border, we¡¯ll kill them. No second chances.¡±

    The advisor hesitated. ¡°I see. Still, sire, once they cross the river, they¡¯ll surely tell the Alliance where we are.¡±

    ¡°Good.¡± Matt met Melren¡¯s gaze for a moment. ¡°The Alliance is coming. I might as well make sure they aren¡¯t sneaking around when they do.¡±

    Snolt muttered something under his breath and then laughed. He bowed to Matt from where he sat on the Warg. ¡°As you say, my liege.¡± He trotted off among the shouting, pale-faced prisoners, yelling for their leaders to identify themselves.

    Matt watched him for a moment and then unfolded the small sketch of the area he¡¯d drawn the night before. He meant to draw the enemy after him, so they would need to move quickly. If all went well, he¡¯d be able to solve multiple problems at once before the real trouble started.

    They found half a dozen prisoners who were surprisingly enthusiastic about finding new lives south of the Blackstone. In exchange, they offered up the locations of at least four other camps, three of which Matt believed were actually real, and at least one of which was only a handful of hours away. He allowed them to run south, heading as quickly as they could in the direction of Coorsford.

    As he watched them run, Melren cautiously maneuvered his dogelk alongside Nelson. He seemed reluctant to speak, and when he did, he appeared to be trying to stay as deferential as possible. ¡°My liege, may I ask you a question?¡±

    Matt nodded, and the Imp continued in a low voice.

    ¡°My liege, you must know that being here will make you a target. Those bandits you sent south will tell the Alliance where we were and where we were headed. If an army hasn¡¯t crossed the Blackstone to hunt us, then they will soon.¡±

    ¡°I doubt they waited that long.¡± Matt shook his head. ¡°Their¡­ commitments would probably be fairly painful for them to resist. If there are any of their royalty nearby, they¡¯re probably going to be marching after us now.¡±

    Melren grimaced. ¡°Then may I ask why we are letting the bandits tell them where we are? We could just as easily have interrogated them to find that information, and yet here we are, giving ourselves away to the Alliance for free.¡±

    ¡°True.¡± Matt smiled. ¡°Especially since I doubt that the Alliance has entrusted their defenses in Coorsford to some random soldier. They probably have a member of their royalty in charge, which means it¡¯ll be someone who¡¯s¡­ extra motivated.¡±

    His advisor seemed even more baffled and frustrated now. ¡°Which means they¡¯ll be even more likely to try to hunt us down, would it not?¡±

    Matt grinned at him. ¡°Exactly. They¡¯ll almost have to.¡±

    Melren started to respond, and then he paused. Snolt caught sight of the former nobleman¡¯s expression as he was riding by and laughed. ¡°Don¡¯t worry, Imp, you¡¯ll get used to it.¡±

    The advisor gave the Captain a glare, and Snolt laughed again as he wandered away. Once Snolt was out of earshot again, Melren spoke quietly. ¡°I will trust you know what you¡¯re doing, sire.¡±

    ¡°Have patience, Melren.¡± Matt felt his grin turn harder. ¡°You¡¯ll see my plan soon enough.¡±

    He sent the remaining prisoners back to Greyspring with about half of the volunteers that had come with him. They weren¡¯t exactly well trained fighters, after all, and sending them back with a firsthand account of the victory would only help his cause there and in the rest of the Sortenmoors.

    The rest of the volunteers followed his army as he marched towards Coorsford. It was clear they expected to see another grand battle ahead of them; their excited chatter was audible even over the songs of his troops and the creaking of the supply carts. Matt ignored them, looking at the land around them as they marched south. He had no intention of fighting the Alliance in Coorsford. If the enemy was anything but a complete idiot, they would have already fortified the town as much or more than what he¡¯d seen at Greyspring, and assaulting those fortifications would be a good way to lose countless soldiers for little gain.

    When they had marched far enough south that they had passed the nearest of the bandit camps the prisoners had warned him about, Matt turned them along a side road. It cut a bit further to the west; eventually it would rejoin the main road and bring them back towards Coorsford, but for now, it was the best road between the town and the camp.

    They had marched for nearly half the day when Matt looked around and called for a halt. As the troops spread out and rested alongside the road, he gestured for the captains to gather around him. Melren nervously hovered nearby, as if uncertain if he would be dismissed, but Matt didn¡¯t see a reason to exclude the former nobleman. Perhaps hearing the plan would make him that much less nervous.

    When the officers had gathered around him, Matt gave them a confident grin. ¡°All right. I want you to get ready for a fight.¡±

    Creps, the Captain of the Fourth Foot, frowned. ¡°Are we expecting the enemy here, sire?¡±

    Matt nodded. ¡°Yes. I expect them to leave Coorsford and come after us.¡±

    Captain Ipps of the Seventh Spears, grimaced. Confusion was obvious on the Orc¡¯s face. ¡°Are you sure, sire? I don¡¯t mean to question you, but it seems like they would rather sit behind their walls rather than fighting us in the open.¡±

    ¡°If they were as lazy as you, Captain, I¡¯d say you would be right.¡± A rumble of chuckles went through the captains, and Ipps rolled his eyes. Matt continued in an even voice. ¡°I believe they will want to save their bandit friends rather than hanging them out to dry. To do that, they¡¯ll have to come out and hunt us down, and here is the best place to catch them while they are doing it.¡±

    Outside the circle of officers, Melren blinked. A slow look of dawning comprehension spread over his face, and Matt gave him a brief warning glance. The last thing he needed was to have the soldiers realize that the Alliance would probably be coming for him, not out of any misguided sympathy for the bandits. Given how Tanya had reacted to Matt using himself as bait in theory, he didn¡¯t want to see how the men with him reacted to actually being used as bait in practice.

    Another Orc, Captain Marg of the Second Spears, raised his hand. ¡°Where do you want us to wait, sire?¡±

    Matt pointed to the road. ¡°The Second Spears and Fourth Foot will wait here across the road. The Seventh Warg Riders will wait with me to your right. Our friends from Greyspring will be behind the battleline, holding our flags.¡±Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

    The single representative from Greyspring jerked in surprise. They nodded nervously, swallowing as they looked around at the others. Matt ignored the curious glances from the rest of the officers and pointed off to the left, where a slight ridge rose above the road. ¡°The Third and Seventh Spears will take up position behind the ride, along with the Eighth and Ninth Foot. The Royal First and Fourth Riders will also stay behind the ridge, further to the south.¡±

    Snolt grimaced, but before he could open his mouth, Captain Wurog of the Fourth Riders raised his hand. ¡°We¡¯re the Headhunters now, sire. Like the Royal First.¡±

    Matt gave him a nod. ¡°Sorry, Captain. The Royal First and the Headhunters will position themselves to the south. On my command, the Riders will come at the enemy from behind, while the Foot and Spears take them in the flank. That should allow us to push the enemy down the hill and convince them to rout.¡±

    This time, Snolt spoke first. ¡°You¡¯re sure they won¡¯t be looking for us, my liege?¡±

    Smiling, Matt shook his head. ¡°No, Captain. The bandits only saw three banners, and that will match what we have on the road. As long as nobody gives their position away, we should be able to take them by surprise with more soldiers than they were expecting. Now, are there any questions?¡±

    The assembled captains shook their heads. Matt nodded a second time. ¡°Then get your men into position. Have our scouts out along the road, and tell them to report back to me as soon as they see our enemies. Take care to not leave any traces when you march up onto the ridge. Stay down, stay silent, and we¡¯ll send the Alliance on their way. Good fortune, and good hunting. For the Kingdom!¡±

    ¡°For the Kingdom!¡±

    The Captains echoed the shout and then headed for their men. Matt watched them for a moment longer and then turned to Melren. ¡°Questions, Melren?¡±

    Melren shook his head. ¡°No, sire. Though I will ask to be with you in the battle.¡±

    Matt looked at him in surprise. He¡¯d been expecting the Imp to stay with the volunteers in one of the safer parts of the field. ¡°You¡¯re sure? We know that the enemy will¡­ have an interest in finding me.¡±

    ¡°All the more reason for me to help you, sire.¡± Melren glanced at the lifeguards with an apologetic expression. Then he looked back at Matt. ¡°Besides, I don¡¯t believe that the Maiden will accept any excuses if I allow you to get killed when she sent me with you, sire. I¡¯d rather fight the Alliance than take her on!¡±

    It wasn¡¯t long before the scouts came back, riding hard along the road. The Alliance was in fact on its way, with at least ten banners of infantry and cavalry. They were moving fast and showing no signs of slowing down.

    Matt had grimaced upon hearing the news. He¡¯d known that the Alliance had plenty of troops left, even after the disaster in the Grim Hollows. Still, being confronted with superior numbers was never a pleasant experience.

    The feeling only got more disagreeable as the Alliance troops swung into position and advanced on his lines. He glanced at Melren. ¡°Those cavalry are Chargers, right? From the Order of Lion¡¯s Roar?¡±

    ¡°Yes, sire.¡± Melren swallowed slightly. ¡°Very effective, from what I understand.¡±

    Effective was probably an understatement. Each Knight was mounted on a warbuck that made Nelson look like an underachiever. The antlers alone could probably have knocked down a brick wall; combining that force with whatever magic the Knights were using could probably send a tank lying end over end on contact.

    The fact that he was facing four full banners of the things with only one banner of Warg Riders to help him did not help Matt feel any better about the situation.

    Of course, it wasn¡¯t like the rest of his immediate helpers were any better off. There were six full banners of infantry marching towards the Second Spears and Fourth Foot. They wore shining metal armor. About half of them had broad shields and axes, while the other half carried longbows with swords buckled at their sides. ¡°Those are¡­¡±

    ¡°Men-at-Arms, sire. Also from the Order of Lion¡¯s Roar.¡± Melren adjusted the reins in his hands a bit nervously. The dogelk he rode would never be able to outrun the Chargers getting ready to attack. ¡°Not as well respected as the Chargers, but still very effective at formation fighting. Their magical strength gives the archers additional range, and the weapons they can wield are that much more dangerous.¡±

    Matt nodded slowly. He watched as the Knights got themselves organized. There was an almost palpable level of confidence about them. He could understand it well enough; after all, why shouldn¡¯t they approach boldly? They were taking on a force more than three times smaller than their own, and their commanders were obviously giving them suspiciously good instructions.

    His eyes narrowed as he watched that distant commander gesturing across the lines to where Matt was sitting on top of Nelson. If the Oath hadn¡¯t been giving them any hints, they should have thought he was with the volunteers and their flag. The fact that the Knights clearly knew he was with the Riders instead suggested that his little ruse hadn¡¯t fooled anyone.

    He hadn¡¯t been depending on it¡ªquite the opposite, in fact¡ªbut it was information that would be good to know. In the future.

    A loud trumpet sounded, and the Knights began to move forward. Both Men-at-Arms and Chargers stepped forward in formation, keeping their lines solid. They saw no reason to rush things, apparently. Not when the enemy King had handed himself to them on a silver platter. Matt watched them approach, counting off the distance that they would need to travel for their final charge. His task was made a little easier by a bit of work that Creps¡¯ Footmen had done before the Knights had shown themselves. They¡¯d set up markers along the road to help their crossbows find the range, and Matt kept his eyes on them as the enemy passed each one. Even with the Oath goading them, he doubted the royal on the other side would start a charge before one hundred yards. Which meant that just as they were passing that rock to the right¡­

    Matt reached deep inside himself, just as the trumpets sounded again. Magic, rumbling and crashing inside his chest, began to flow outwards as he constructed the spell in his mind. Melren twitched in surprise, looking at him sideways, but Matt ignored him. He raised his mace, a gesture that the signalers among his soldiers picked up on easily enough. Their horns answered the blaring sounds of the enemy trumpeters, beginning the signals for the true start of the battle.

    Creps shouted his orders, and the Fourth unleashed a volley of crossbow bolts. They curved up into the air, but the Men-at-Arms at the front were already raising their thick shields. Matt could already see where the bolts would bounce off, deflected by armor or shields short of their target. The archers in the formation were already pausing, nocking arrows to respond in kind.

    It took both sets of Men-At-Arms completely by surprise when a second batch of bolts slashed down from the top of the ridge beside them. Unlike the shots from the Fourth, these came in high and from the side, bypassing the shields and striking at the surprised Knights all along their line. Men and women cried out and fell; their tidy formation grew ragged as some fell, wounded or dying. Those who remained turned to find both banners of Spears already charging down the ridge towards them, ready to crash into their lines. The Second Spears charged as well, the Orcs racing across the road to join the battle.

    Matt jerked his eyes away from them. The Chargers hadn¡¯t paused when the ambush began. Instead, they had only poured on more speed. They were already passing the hundred-yard mark, and the warbucks already seemed to be a living wall of force that threatened to bowl straight through his troops. One Charger in particular was waving a long, gleaming sword. He could have sworn the soldier was aiming straight for him, screaming high and loud over the avalanche of hooves, armor, and lances.

    He lowered his mace to point at the Chargers and unleashed his magic. Not into their ranks, of course, but into the dirt of the moors in front of them.

    Had any of the Prancers or Leapers escaped the Battle of Seven Princes, they might have been able to warn the Chargers of the danger. Perhaps even the Chargers that had fallen into a similar trap at the same battle might have been able to give them reason to pause. Unfortunately for them, it seemed no stories had reached these soldiers of the Alliance about the power he wielded, or what dangers they might face. They clearly only saw an open, if slightly muddy, field, and an enemy that they could easily defeat if they crossed it quickly enough.

    All of which meant that nearly fifty yards from Matt, the Chargers found the ground had turned from passable terrain that was a little softened by melting snow and early spring rain to a sucking, deep morass that could have swallowed a legion of warbucks. Their forward momentum and mass still carried them forward, but it was as if they had dived into a patch of quicksand. Knights and warbucks cried out as their charge fragmented, as riders were thrown from their mounts, and as the ranks behind crashed into those still struggling forward. A very lucky few swerved aside, but all semblance of formation and momentum had been lost, and they milled around at the edges of the mudfield as if in shock.

    Melren, his eyes wide, muttered an incredulous curse, but the Seventh had seen a similar sight, and worse. They simply freed their blades and made ready, obviously waiting for Matt¡¯s next signal.

    The chaos and screaming was enough that it made Nelson stir slightly in sympathy, something that Matt could feel himself. He never liked to see an animal suffer, and frankly, if there had been any other way, he would have tried to convince the enemy to surrender rather than ambushing them with a trick like this one.

    Yet the Alliance had, once again, given him no choice, and if he wanted his Kingdom to survive, he only had one possible order.

    He raised his mace again and then swept it forward. ¡°Charge!¡±

    The Riders of the Seventh roared around him and swept forward, covering the distance to the struggling Chargers in the mudpit in mere moments. Matt waited until the very last moment, allowing most of the enemy cavalry to trap themselves thoroughly inside the muck before he let the spell collapse. A part of him expected the ground to be suddenly firm again, as it had been in the last battle, but the already-soaked soil proved more reluctant this time. When the Riders fell on the hapless Knights, they found them still struggling free of the clinging mire that Matt had created from nothing.

    It didn¡¯t seem to help the Knights much, as the Wargs hurled themselves on necks and heads. Goblins slashed and cut as they plunged into the midst of their enemies, seeking openings in the enemy¡¯s armor and shields. The Knights yelled and shouted, stabbing back with lances or drawing swords to exchange blows. At least one giant of a man was lashing out with a mace that could have broken down a concrete wall, trying to force his struggling warbuck forward.

    Matt and his lifeguard rushed in among the enemy, swinging as hard as he could at the nearest enemies. Even half-buried in mud, the Knights were not easy prey. One Knight lunged at him with a sword; only for Nelson to knock him from his mount and trample him. Another thrust at Matt with a lance, but Matt knocked the spearpoint aside and ducked in close to bash the woman over the head. As she fell away, he spared a glance for the infantry battle, where he saw Wargs charging into the rear of the Men-at-Arms. It looked as if the enemy there was starting to break, but he wondered what it would take to make them all run.

    All of a sudden, he realized he had pushed much further into the battle than he had intended. His lifeguards were shouting at him, but there were Warg Riders and Chargers between them and him. Matt lashed out with his mace and Nelson smashed his way forward with his horns, but there were too many people fighting and shoving in the mud. There had to be something he could¡ª

    Someone smashed into him, moving with impossible speed and strength. Matt shouted as he was pulled from the saddle and into the mud. He landed flat on his back in the muck, with a screaming Knight raising her sword for a finishing blow. Nelson stumbled into her, but the Knight didn¡¯t even seem to notice; it was like she was made of solid stone, and the warbuck just bounced off of her. Her grip on Matt¡¯s jack of plate was an iron claw, keeping him in place. Her sword started to descend.

    Which is the moment when Nelson kicked her, square in the back, with a hoof that could splinter a wall. She grunted, losing her grip on his armor so she could brace herself in the mud. Her strike went to the side, burying the shining blade up to half its length in the mud.

    Matt grimaced and threw himself to the side, rolling in the mud. The sword missed him again by a hairsbreadth, and he forced himself back to his feet, gasping for air. How was she so fast and strong? Knights had magical enhancements, but he¡¯d never seen anything like this before. She swung at him again, and he dodged back, trying to open up the distance. He ran into someone behind him and nearly fell again, but he shoved them away and tried to circle around back to where he could see Nelson rearing and lashing out with his hooves at other targets, who didn¡¯t fare half as well as this one did.

    ¡°I¡¯ve found you, Tyrant! I¡¯ve found you, and I will end it!¡± The Knight rushed forward. He couldn¡¯t see her face through the grill of her helmet, but the fury in her words made him picture her lips twisted with a sneer of complete hatred. Once-fine livery had been etched into her chestplate, and Matt¡¯s eyes widened as he realized he wasn¡¯t just fighting any opponent. The commander, the ruler who had sworn the Oath, had forced her way to him directly.

    He ducked another swing and then met another with a strike of his own. His mace clashed with her sword, and she nearly knocked the weapon from his hand. Matt went backwards again, frantically swinging to gain space. The Knight followed, her sword slashing and hacking, each time nearly disarming him with the strength of her attacks.

    Then, suddenly, one of his lifeguard was there, an Orc named Balred. His spear stabbed into the Knight from behind, catching her in the gap between her helmet and her breastplate. It went in deep, and then snapped as the Orc continued his charge. She started to spin around and strike at the lifeguard, but Matt seized the chance and swung at her with all the strength in both his arms.

    The blow caught the Knight right on top of the helmet. There was a sickening crunch, and the Knight went facedown in the mud. Matt followed up with another three strikes, not knowing if his first hit had killed her or just knocked her down. Then he stumbled back upright to find that Balred had cut his way through another two Knights with his sword and grabbed Nelson¡¯s reins. His lifeguard gestured for him to come, and Matt slogged his way through the mud to reach his mount.

    By the time he managed to force himself back up onto Nelson¡¯s back, the battle had shifted again. He saw the banner of the Royal First on the opposite side of the Chargers; clearly, Snolt had chosen to strike the rear of the cavalry rather than the infantry. It seemed to have been a wise enough choice; the Men-at-Arms were already routing, and the Chargers were beginning to cry out in surrender. There were some who might have been able to get away, but crossbow bolts were raining down on them, as well as the most stubborn knots of resistance. Between them and the Wargs, Matt doubted that many of the enemy would escape.

    He started to head back into the thickest fighting, but Balred abruptly grabbed his reins. The Orc gave him a look and shook his head, even as the rest of his lifeguard took up positions around him again. Matt glared at the lifeguards and then looked at the mud-covered fighting still taking place. It was nearly done anyway; it might have even been finished before he reached it. Still feeling sullen, he allowed Balred and the others to lead him back towards the edge of the corpse-strewn mudpit.

    ¡°Sire! Sire!¡± Melren was suddenly there as Matt escaped the last of the clinging morass. The advisor seemed to have seen some action as well, though he obviously hadn¡¯t taken the dogelk into the melee with the warbucks. Relief was clear on the Imp¡¯s face. ¡°Oh, thank the gods above and below! When I couldn¡¯t see you¡ª¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m fine, Melren. Just got a little distracted, was all.¡± He forced a casual tone into his voice. It was somewhat sabotaged by the roughness in his throat. ¡°I want all surrenders to be accepted. The prisoners can be disarmed and sent back to Greyspring, like the bandits. From there, they can be escorted all the way back to Redspire.¡±

    Melren gave him an incredulous look. ¡°Yes, sire. But what if there are some who¡­ refuse to surrender?¡±

    He didn¡¯t feel up to mincing words. ¡°Their commander is dead. Balred and I saw to it personally.¡± The lifeguard blinked and looked at him in surprise. Matt ignored the look. ¡°See that she is dragged out of that and given a proper burial. She fought well enough to earn it, even if she¡¯s one of the fools responsible for all this¡­ waste.¡±

    The Imp opened his mouth to respond, only for cheering to break out. Matt looked over to see the shattered remnants of the enemy infantry running, with the Royal First in hot pursuit. The Chargers, for their part, were all now holding their weapons aloft. Their postures seemed to express both shock and despair, an impression that their mud-streaked uniforms only made worse. Wounded and dying Knights were still scattered across the field or half-buried in the mud, crying out for rescue.

    Matt forced himself not to look at the Goblins, Orcs, and Imps that were lying in the mire along with the enemies. There was a cost to fighting a war, and he knew it all too well by now. He thought back to the princess that had tried to kill him and wondered how many more bodies it would take to end all of it.