《Demaine》


 Conducas I: Home of the Disappointments

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    The Sun gave birth to another day, interrupting the garrison commander¡¯s slumber. Conducas emerged from his uncomfortable bed, believing he would distinguish himself today. As he polished his helmet, he wondered why he didn''t have a servant perform such menial tasks.


    He began his morning routine of inspecting the perimeter. At times, he couldn¡¯t help but wonder why he even bothered. After all, nothing of note ever occurred here. As he strolled around the courtyard, it quickly became evident many guardsmen were missing from their posts. This was nothing new. The lack of action had created an unnecessarily relaxed atmosphere around the fortress and its garrison. When Conducas first arrived, he was eager to penalize such neglect. However, when he realized what this place truly was, he began relaxing his policies. As he climbed the stairs to the north-western tower, the creak alerted its wretched watcher.


    ¡°Captain, it was a night like any other. Go back to sleep,¡± Gath yawned at the sunrise.


    The old goat was his miserable excuse for a second-in-command. He might have been fifty and certainly not in a fighting shape. If the fort fell under attack, would he be of much use?


    ¡°I don¡¯t see the others. Explain,¡± Conducas inquired, trying his best to hide his apathy.


    ¡°Pay it no mind,¡± Gath uttered, still not bothering to face his captain.


    His dirt-covered helmet was a match for his ungroomed beard garnished with leftovers. His tattered gambeson reeked of goat piss. To arm himself for the night, even that was asking for too much. One would not mistake this man for a member of the gentry, yet he was. What a grim reminder of what might come of those who give up on life.


    ¡°Listen, you sack of shit¡­¡± Conducas whispered as he placed a firm grip on Gath¡¯s shoulder.


    ¡°You will answer when spoken to,¡± he disciplined his subordinate. Every day, he dealt with Gath, and every day, he felt strained by it.


    Gath turned towards him and dared to roll his eyes: ¡°You know those rascals, I told them not to, but¡­they still went to get some.¡±


    The village near the fortress hosted a hub of nubile peasant girls. A couple of them were almost pleasant-looking. It was common for the garrison men to fool around the village. Many had even taken the liberty to spread their seed there. Of course, going there during the night wasn''t remotely tolerable.


    ¡°Desertion¡­ How is this acceptable to you?¡±


    Gath rubbed his ears as if he were alone. Even knowing Gath¡¯s life story, Conducas could not fathom how someone could succumb to such a miserable state of existence.


    ¡°Do you realize if we had come under attack, we¡ª¡± he was interrupted when Gath raised his bruised left hand.


    ¡°Son, look at my hand,¡± he interrupted.


    ¡°I have been stuck here for a decade. With this hand, I can count the times we have been under attack,¡± Gath spouted.


    Perhaps he had a point. Conducas had arrived a mere two years ago. During his tenure, no enemies had been sighted. Nonetheless, the stronghold had seen more than one assault, but back then, Gath had been in charge. ¡°Ringatho the Iron¡± he had been known as. Even the fort had claimed his name with pride. But eras begin and end; that man no longer existed. Only ¡°Gath the Goat¡± stood in front of him.


    ¡°And had our enemies come for us, I¡¯d be the first to welcome the sweet relief of death,¡± Gath mumbled and turned his back towards the horizon.


    Conducas¡¯ tongue almost slipped and told him to resign, nothing was worse than a defeatist officer. But then he recalled Gath had nowhere to go. If death was truly a relief for him, would pushing him down the rampart be an act of mercy? Would it improve the morale to get rid of this old goat? The murder of his men under any circumstances was ill-advised, yet his father and brothers would have done it. Had he been sent here because he didn¡¯t resort to such ruthless acts?


    Any other commander would have been alarmed by this horrendous lack of discipline, but Conducas couldn¡¯t help but sympathize with this old fart and those pesky perverts. This godforsaken outpost offered few prospects. But no, he couldn¡¯t let this go, not this time. The line had to be drawn somewhere before the chain of command rotted away completely.


    ¡°Either way, have them flogged¡­¡± Conducas hesitantly ordered, but Gath continued gazing out as if he didn¡¯t hear anything.


    ¡°You know. As we speak, my brother is leading another expedition, but I¡­ I¡¯m here,¡± Gath lamented. Conducas could sympathize with him on this. His brothers enjoyed better positions than him as well. But he had been sent here. Yet, this changed nothing.


    ¡°Officer, did you not hear me?¡±


    ¡°Yes, Captain Cuteco. I will inflict a dozen lashes on those hooligans¡­once they return.¡±


    ¡°No. You will find and retrieve them¡­ Now!¡± Conducas ordered and took his leave.


    To get these people to do anything was an endurance. As the Old Man took his time departing, Conducas pondered if this command was indeed what he deserved. In theory, upholding morale and discipline was the commander¡¯s obligation. If Conducas couldn¡¯t even inspire the garrison of twenty, why would he be entitled to anything more challenging?


    He continued the inspection, heading towards the east wall. Around this wall, Conducas had wanted to erect a stone keep. It ought to become the new core of the stronghold, for the rest of the fortress was composed of rapidly rotting planks. Unfortunately, the progress had stagnated; for one reason or another, tools and materials had a habit of disappearing. Yet, it never seemed to bother the laborers one bit. They were never enthusiastic about their commander¡¯s passion project in the first place. How he hoped the task would provide them with a rewarding goal to work towards. In reality, it could not compete with the booze and bosoms of the village girls. As such, only the floor was complete, whereas the rest of the construction site lay empty.


    This book''s true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience.


    When Conducas reached the rampart, his father awaited him down on the construction site. Well, it was a graffito of him either way. The stone floor had been covered by a rather crude drawing of a man, a pig, and a bull. In this depiction, the man was sucking the pig¡¯s member, while the bull penetrated him from behind. The text next to the man read ¡°The King of Aliaze¡±. The youth of the village found it amusing to vandalize the fort at night. Supposedly the two animals were an artistic rendition of the Kingdom¡¯s enemies.


    ¡°The bull must be the Empire, right?¡± Stris asked. He appeared behind him without a sound, this short man had the agility of an assassin.


    ¡°Think again,¡± Conducas goaded. Unlike that old goat, he was more like him, that of the patrician flock. He ought to know better when analyzing art.


    ¡°Let¡¯s see here um¡­¡± he took a careful look at the drawing. The Sun reflected light on his polished armor as his finger scratched his clean-shaven jaw.


    ¡°The bull generally represents might and momentum, while the pig¡ª¡± Stris happily lectured.


    ¡°...decadence and stagnation. Yes, yes, we have both been educated on this¡±, Conducas dismissively completed.


    ¡°Yet, art merely represents the opinions of its author, not reality, ¡° Stris snapped back and pounded his polearm against the rampart.


    ¡°To us, the Empire may not be mighty, but the peasant artist might beg to differ,¡± Stris rationalized with a smirk.


    ¡°How can anyone think so?¡±


    ¡°If you were a countryman, wouldn¡¯t you?¡± Stris pressed playfully.


    Those rural folk¡­ Who knew what they thought? Maybe their folktales made the Empire sound better than it was. But the villagers hadn¡¯t lived under the Empire, so why would they idealize it? No, they must favor their nation¡­or the closest thing next to it.


    ¡°Listen, the Empire cares about these people less than we do,¡± Conducas presumed in a serious tone and began preaching. He turned away from the slightly confused Strislag.


    ¡°And even those inbred croppers,¡± he continued with disgust. watching over the horizon, the shepherds began droving cattle onward. He recognized one of the shepherds from afar, this one had humped a sheep when he last saw him.


    ¡°Know better,¡± he concluded his rant with the most authoritative intonation he could produce. This is how his father wished he would always speak; with absolute confidence, to the point of arrogance. But Conducas could not lie to himself, he was not a charismatic person, unlike his friend.


    ¡°I do know better, my friend. The folk here prefer the yoke of the Empire over the Zobozandish¡±, Stris warmly defended.


    Supposedly, Stris would know their preferences. After all, most local lasses had embraced him, in one way or another¡­ Then again, he was something of a fool. What kind of man would volunteer to be here?


    ¡°Think we are just overanalyzing some fickle knave¡¯s ridicule,¡± the commander sighed and headed down from the wall.


    ¡°And Stris¡­¡±


    ¡°Yes, commander?¡±


    ¡°Have it removed, uncover the culprit, and have him castrated,¡± Conducas ordered with a heavy heart. One boy¡¯s suffering for the reverence of the garrison¡­it would be worth it. The patricians were often taken advantage of, and it could only be averted with acts of ruthlessness.


    ¡°That¡¯s a bit extreme, don¡¯t you think?¡± Stris argued, clearly trying to hold into a pretense of playfulness, but his composure betrayed him. He must have been shocked by the order.


    Perhaps it was, but this was lese-majesty, after all. Had Aliaze still been part of the Empire, it would have been punishable by death. Fortunately for these peasants, the Kingdom maintained a more liberal approach¡­ ¡°Ridicule and mockery of the King are rewarded,¡± was what the imperial propaganda claimed of Aliaze, but, in reality, it was still punishable.


    While he could overlook it, it would just encourage such activity. The fort might not witness another assault, but it still could fall to defacement. The site could not take more infamy. And if his father somehow heard about his tolerance for mockery, he would never be allowed to return.


    ¡°Officer, are you questioning my order?¡± Conducas asked. Stris was the last of his men to question his orders, how could he do it now?


    ¡°No, sir. I will have it done.¡±


    ¡­


    Later that afternoon, a rider wearing the heraldry of Aliaze, a bright red banner decorated with a golden tetra crescent, galloped into the fortress. The Rider jumped from his saddle. He began looking around. The garrison gathered around the man, many of whom were about as presentable as Gath. After the Rider had taken a good look at the men of the garrison, his confused look was overtaken by a slight smirk.


    ¡°And here I was about to ask if this the right fort,¡± the Rider laughed as he flexed his neck.


    ¡°But it¡¯s now evident, this must be the so-called King¡¯s Shame,¡± the Rider smiled. He took a closer step towards Conducas, quickly recognizing him.


    ¡°Be there a place more depressing, and I¡¯d be smitten,¡± he continued lamenting.


    ¡°Hmmm¡­ I take it you are Captain Cuteco?¡± the man asked Conducas, after examining him briefly.


    ¡°That¡¯s right,¡± he answered confidently, knowing what this all meant¡­


    How Conducas had dreamed of this day, somehow he knew would distinguish himself. At last, his father had recalled him from this exile. Perhaps, he even felt bad for failing to answer his letters for two years. He might even gift him the grand command of the West. While he hadn¡¯t seen as much as a skirmish, he had made up for it by studying countless wars. With his strategic brilliance, he would end the dispute. The Empire and Zobozand would be expelled from the Deystro region. And, after becoming a legend, the Chamber of Patricians would be so captivated by his military excellence that they would create him the region¡¯s duke. He would then devote his ducal reign to rebuilding the fallen kingdom. A century from now, those ungrateful villagers would know him as ¡°Conducas the Great¡±.


    ¡°Conducas Cuteco, I¡¯m representing the Chamber of Patricians,¡± the Rider proclaimed as he pulled a scroll from his horse¡¯s bag.


    He began reading the scroll: ¡°By the decree of the Chamber of Patricians, you are hereby removed from your command and placed under arrest.¡±


    ¡°Pardon me? What?¡± Conducas jumped. He had never known his father to have a sense of humor. Perhaps this was his brother¡¯s jest.


    ¡°You are to face a trial in the Capital on charges of high treason,¡± the Rider continued reading.


    This joke was becoming unamusing. Was it a jester dressed as a royal emissary? Yes, it must have been, that was the only explanation. Then again to wear the sacred tetra crescent for a jibe would have been blasphemous. Was that the length they went for this shitty gag?


    ¡°And if you are to resist the arrest, you will be considered an outlaw, and be hanged,¡± the Rider finished reading the declaration and handed the scroll to Conducas.


    Suddenly, the man came closer and whispered: ¡°And my deepest condolences, your father perished a week ago.¡±

 Deuleca I: Chains & Ropes

    ¡°Lord Straboc, this is a¡­pleasure?¡± Deuleca appealed as she strode towards her chair, which some may have called a throne, but for her, it was just a comfortable chair. She wasn¡¯t sure what to make of her surprise visitor. The old man in front of him was covered in bruises and mud, as was the younger man who accompanied him. He was barely holding onto his anger; she could sense that much.


    ¡°Wipe that smirk off your face!¡± Lord Straboc shakily shouted. The fire in his eye burned as bloody spit escaped from his mouth.


    ¡°Sir, is this how a man of your stature behaves?¡± she belittled in a motherly way.


    Men often revealed who they were when pushed over the edge. It had been so with her father, husband, brother, son, and now with this¡­creature. The Commander of the West would be no different. After all, men were all ever so predictable, slaves to their urges and impulses.


    For a moment, the proud lord froze in place. Perhaps he was weighing his options and quelling the fumes of his rage. Deuleca had had the displeasure of meeting this man a few times before. In every instance, this patrician found a way to make it unpleasant.


    That, however, had been before she emerged as the governor of East Deystro. She had seen this man as little more than a happy drunk, certainly not suited for the military. At least, not as grand as he had been given. Though with the patricians politically motivated, so was his appointment.


    Out of the eight patricians she had met throughout her long life, Lord Straboc was the least fit. Most competent must have been Lord Paubemec, now the Commander of the North, whose endless exploits had exhausted the Empire. Few men enjoyed his charisma and temper, certainly not the disgrace in front of him.


    ¡°We were ambushed¡­ We barely escaped¡­¡± the Lord finally uttered in shame. Did he expect sympathy?


    ¡°I see¡­ And now you have come crawling here?¡± Deuleca mocked.


    Lord Straboc tightened his fists. Giving into his impulses so early, how disappointing. She had enjoyed a pleasant afternoon thus far, this sudden intrusion would provide her with much entertainment.


    ¡°Most of my army is gone¡­ We need to rebuild it with haste,¡± he lamented while looking down. It must have been humbling.


    "Do we?" she questioned.


    This buffoon expected the governorate to pay for his shortcomings. In truth, she had no responsibility for such things. The Commander was bound to his budget directly approved by the Chamber. However, if he resorted to begging, he must have exceeded his budget and was out of other options, except one... cover it out of his bag.


    ¡°If we idle, those devils will seize our strongholds in West Deystro,¡± he continued his presentation.


    There was no way he cared about those forts, most of them had been captured by Lord Paubemec before his reassignment. As the two most powerful houses in the realm, the rivalry between them was natural as it was infamous.


    ¡°Oh yes, those important frontier forts¡­. Why do you care about them again?¡± she challenged, trying to hide her resentment. She knew the answer, but making this fat slug bullshit his way around it was pristine entertainment.


    ¡°My lady doesn¡¯t understand war strat¡ª¡± he tried to brush the issue aside. Of course, a man like him would try hand-waving the issue. Unlike most patrician women, she wouldn¡¯t have gotten to her position, if she had ignored the military affairs.


    ¡°Perhaps you can explain it to a foolish wench like myself?¡± she interrupted with a wet smile.


    Awkwardness overtook the hall as her guards and servants gave an uncomfortable look towards her. To interrupt a patrician was bad enough, but to test House Straboc was cocky, she knew it, but could not help herself. Her court lacked her guts, not wanting to get on their bad side. She wondered if her guards would just step aside when Straboc eventually lost his mind in a fit of rage.


    ¡°I don¡¯t need to¡ª¡± he uttered, apparently shocked he was treated like this. Perhaps he had never faced a power dynamic like this. The boy next to him contrasted his confusion with a smirk.


    ¡°That¡¯s alright, commander. My spies have observed your so-called war strategy,¡± she interrupted a second time.


    To be born in a realm of men plagued by endless war, one could not prosper without trying to understand its madness. Those who turned closed their eyes to it, were spineless, as was her husband. And when one is without a spine, what are they but pawns?


    ¡°You neglect the forts you now speak so highly of!¡± she accused, as it was a trial.


    ¡°That isn¡¯t¡ª¡±


    "Leech, that''s what are you. You ransack the cities for profit, then withdraw without a fight," she presented as she flexed her wrist.


    And, of course, it was hardly surprising that after such adventures, his exhausted force would walk into an ambush. Their enemies didn¡¯t need to be particularly clever to take advantage of the inherent flaw in the Commander''s strategy.


    "Are you not squandering resources with these futile assaults?" she threw.


    ¡°It¡¯s merely my humble opinion, but¡­ You are accomplishing very little with this.¡±


    ¡°Ah, I see the lady confused by the complexity of war. You see¡ª¡± he began his counter, only to lose his turn once more.


    ¡°You think you are weakening our enemies, but you are doing the opposite,¡± she lamented.


    ¡°I beg to differ. The key to winning conflict lies in reducing West Deystro to a wasteland,¡± the Lord proudly argued. He seemed ever so pleased not to be interrupted that she decided to let him continue his ridiculous rhetoric.


    ¡°And once it has been done, I expect Zobozandish to abandon the region and sue for peace,¡± he finished his rant.


    What drove men to seek the destruction and suffering of others? How could such behavior ever be justified? He was a bigger idiot than Deuleca had imagined. To think this man was of the patrician flock and not a pig farmer.


    ¡°I can see your perspective, but not how you can still be such a fool.¡±


    At that moment, the boundary had been crossed. As Lord Straboc wiped the remaining mud out from his face, his face was ambushed by a shade of redness, which complemented his lamellar armor also painted in crimson red.


    ¡°I¡¯m a patrician of the Realm, a king¡¯s whore or not; you will face trial for this insolence!¡± he spouted like a maniac.


    For this man to burst into rage so easily was interesting¡­ A king whore, was it? It wasn¡¯t very creative ad hominem, but supposedly Lord Straboc wasn¡¯t the most imaginative of men. Aggravated magnates always had to stir some conspiracy about why she had been given such a prominent position. Of course, like all stories, they contained some seeds of truth.


    At that moment, he snapped and rushed forward. Her guards tightened their grip on the polearms, ready to stop his advance. Only be halted by the much younger man who had accompanied him, who placed his hand on his shoulder. The repaid the kindness by turning around and punching the boy.


    As the boy wiped the blood off his lips, he exposed Deuleca to a content face, as if he had waited for it. He then returned the favor. His strike contained such momentum Lord Straboc was thrown off his feet and fell to the stone floor. What kinda retainer had the spine to assault a patrician? No, this boy must have been¡­ Something else, perhaps his son?


    The man then offered him his hand, but he was too proud and angry to resolve the issue. He tackled the boy and began beating him on the floor.


    ¡°My lady, should we stop them?¡± one of her guards confusingly asked.


    As they fought the hall became covered in mud. After eight or nine hits, Deuleca decided to intervene.


    ¡°Calm yourself, good patrician. If you can¡¯t handle the rattling of some old woman, how do you deal with those whom you consider to be your peers?¡±


    The story has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.


    No answer, but the Lord did stop attacking the boy. He coldly turned towards the west wall where lost himself in her hall¡¯s elaborate tapestries. The waving resting on the west wall was set in a gloomy forest, in torn dress-wearing girl wept as she was being forced to marry a wolf-headed man covered in blood. On the floor lay a handsome but dead boy.


    ¡°You know why you are a fool, my dear patrician?¡± she asked with the most sincere tone she could muster.


    ¡°Let me now¡­¡± he sighed, trying to calm down.


    ¡°Our little kingdom lacks resources to finance your systematic destruction, and even if it didn¡¯t¡­ What good would a region scorched be?¡±


    The boy began rising up from the floor fully covered in bruises, blood, and mud, yet he looked amused as he retook his place next to the man who likely was his father.


    ¡°With time, we would rebuild, of course.¡± he proudly proclaimed.


    More of his bizarre delusions. Deuleca could only imagine how many centuries the process would take without a sizeable investment. Would it ever pay itself back?


    ¡°By spending even more coin on it? Only for the Zobozandish to resume the war?¡± Deuleca inquired.


    ¡°Perhaps so, but that would be after our time, and thus not our problem.¡±


    How expectedly small-minded of him, she thought. How could this man be completely ignorant of the grand tapestry?


    ¡°Do you realize there is a way to solve this conflict without extremities?¡±


    ¡°Share your wisdom, you wise crone,¡± he mocked, clearly not even taking the conversation seriously anymore.


    ¡°Those cities you assault, those are not Zobozandish, but Deystrian occupied by the Zobozandish?¡±


    ¡°I see the lady does not grasp the situation. Those are the one and the same.¡±


    ¡°But there is¡­ A major difference. And you should be aware of it...¡±


    ¡°Oh, my¡­. I did come across rumors of you being a lover of the Deystrians. Are the Deystrian cocks sweeter than the King¡¯s?


    ¡°I wouldn¡¯t know¡­ My sympathy for these people¡­¡±


    She gave her servants a look, many of them were of the Deystrian origin.


    ¡°Only extends as far as winning the war,¡± she reasoned.


    It was a bold thing to admit all her kindness towards them was conditional. The Deystrian servants gave her a deluded gaze. They were justified in doing so. No one wants to hear they are but a pawn in the greater scheme of things. But to ascend beyond their station, they had to hear it, even if they were too ignorant to realize it themself. She had been a pawn once, and to an extent, she still was.


    ¡°By conscribing the men of East Deystro?¡± he proposed optimistically.


    Of course, he wanted a conscript to solve his issue, such as typical male behavior. She had devoted her entire reign to avoiding alienating the locals. Instead, she had tried to bring their people together. However, everyone was determined to undermine her policies, even her own son would rather be reduced to a vagabond than take the hand of the Deystrian noblewoman.


    ¡°No. Conscription would only deepen the scars you carved with your destruction.¡±


    ¡°Then, I don¡¯t see the point.¡±


    ¡°Of course, you don¡¯t. You are man ignorant of humanity and history,¡± she sighed, tired of this beggar. She stood up from her chair.


    ¡°Do I have to spell it out for you, dear?¡± she riddled.


    ¡°Huh¡­ You wish to cooperate with the Deystrians?¡± he dizzy asked¡­


    ¡°Indeed, winning the hearts and the minds of the locals is most paramount,¡± she proclaimed proudly.


    ¡°Such feminine naivety. The Deystrians do not care who lords over them. They have lost their identity as a nation, they are but docile cattle.¡±


    ¡°Utter rubbish, it takes centuries for a nation to fade away.,¡± she dismissed.


    It had been merely two decades since the independent kingdom of Deystro fell to a war of succession. Since then, it had been a prolonged dispute between Aliaze, Zobozand, and their ally, the Empire.


    ¡°If you continue ransacking, what choices do the people of West Deystro have? You are driving into the lap of the Zobozandish. When a father sees your men ravishing his daughters, he might devote the rest of his life to spite our realm,¡± she proposed.


    ¡°Or perhaps he gets so terrified he stays out of my way. Either way, the locals don¡¯t matter. Our solemn responsibility is the morale of our troops,¡± he countered.


    ¡°And if the fun comes at the expense of the local maidens, is that not the worthy price to pay?¡± he continued.


    ¡°No¡­ No matter how many soldiers come for this land, without the local aid, it¡¯s all wasted effort¡±, she persisted.


    ¡°Such bold perspective from someone who has never seen bloodshed,¡± he patronized.


    Deuleca pinched her gown cotton gown; its stark black background was embroidered with a pattern of a golden beetle; the sigil of her father¡¯s house. Lord Straboc was mistaken, she had seen a battle, but how she wished she hadn¡¯t. Memories of that event nearly thirty years ago, the imagery of the stampede of the imperial cavalry and her father¡­  It kept coming back to her.


    ¡°Did you ever consider how the thing might be if the people saw you as a liberator instead of a conqueror?¡± she implored.


    ¡°Would you not face less resistance? The Deystrians might even volunteer to aid you.¡±


    ¡°Conscripts or volunteers, I see little difference,¡± he stated.


    ¡°You should¡­ Conscripts won¡¯t die for you¡­or me. They will be the first ones to desert you. Wouldn¡¯t you agree, Commander?¡±


    He didn¡¯t offer much protest. It wasn¡¯t hard to imagine desertions being common under his command. After all, this man was stubborn and a complete pit of charisma. He simply had no place in the military or politics. Perhaps, he would have been made a decent priest like the founder of his house.


    ¡°If anything, having conscripts in your army erodes it from the inside. Is the chain not as strong as its weakest link?¡± she inquired.


    As far as she knew, Lord Straboc was the weakest link of his host.


    ¡°Volunteers on the other¡­ They will proudly die for their cause, at least that¡¯s what I¡¯m told,¡± she stated.


    ¡°At your age, it¡¯s humorous you mistake romantic ideal for reality, just like a milk maiden,¡± he mocked.


    ¡°That is the reality of things¡­ When our patrician fathers rose against the Empire, were they not joined by volunteers? Did they not face the full might of the Empire? And yet, against all odds, they emerged victorious...  How do you explain its success without the people¡¯s will?¡± she ranted.


    ¡°It makes for a good story to keep the peasants from rioting, but it¡¯s nothing but a founding myth,¡± he observed.


    ¡°Back then, the Empire was about as corrupt as it¡¯s now¡­ Our fathers simply bought our freedom by bribing the imperial officers,¡± he explained.


    He wasn¡¯t completely to have such a take, but it was certainly an oversimplification. Though, her view could as easily have been guilty of it. Perhaps the truth was something between.


    ¡°I¡¯m not denying that was a part of it¡­¡± she admitted, the key to getting through to people was meeting them halfway.


    ¡°But I cannot fathom it to be the only reason.¡±


    ¡°Then you are a bigger fool than me,¡± Lord Straboc sniffed.


    ¡°A character in your predicament should restrain from such accusations.¡±


    Deuleca began guiding this buffoon in the right direction. Perhaps, he wasn¡¯t completely hopeless and could be used to avert a crisis.


    ¡°My army might be in ruins, but¡ª¡± he tried to rationalize.


    ¡°I¡¯m not referring to that¡­ Tell me, proud lord, why do you think you were given this position?¡±


    While the position of commander was always bestowed to those of patrician origin, and not those known for their martial prowess, it was generally in everyone¡¯s best interest the patrician was at least competent. Lord Paubemec for instance, had held a junior command since he was but a teen. Hence it was hardly surprising he would emerge as the commander of the West by the time he turned twenty. In contrast, Serec Straboc had spent his entire life avoiding military roles, despite the countless opportunities.


    At least that was before he accepted to replace Paubemec as the commander of the West. Supposedly, the reason why he changed his mind wasn¡¯t nearly as complex as the conditions of his nomination. Most likely Serec had realized that he wasn¡¯t going to amount to much in the Capital and hoped to abuse the war to enrich himself further.


    ¡°The other patricians would rather just toil in their mansions and I¡ª¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s not it¡­¡± she said. ¡°You¡¯d make a terrible commander, everyone knew it.¡±


    For some reason felt awkward and uneasy telling him this, she almost blushed. It was like telling a child their drawing was no good, something they should have known for themself. But this was an adult man, whose networking should have made them aware of their standing in court.


    ¡°But the King sent you here either way¡­.¡±


    ¡°If I didn¡¯t know any better¡­. The one who wrapped his lips around¡ª,¡± she suggested.


    He sighed. ¡°Your insolence has no limits, wench¡±.


    ¡°Or perhaps there is another reason why you were chosen¡­¡±


    Her eyes moved to the tapestry of the east wall. This was her favorite art, in it was a smiling demon with three horns. His upper torso was that of a black goat and his upper torso was that of a man who was fishing in a pond made composed out of eyes. The demon was amused, his cat eyes glowed as his long tongue slipped his lips.


    ¡°This is more of my feminine fiction, but I reckon you were not wanted in the Capital,¡± she presented her hypothesis. Still staring at the demon.


    The Lord, who so valiantly vanquished his rage a moment ago, was struggling to swim against a new current of emotions.


    ¡°Cow¡¯s ghost cock! People adore me there,¡± he argued.


    ¡°Do they? Do they really? Pardon me, but you aren¡¯t most¡­observant of men,¡± she snarked in her most mocking demeanor.


    ¡°You are but a simpleton, they probably laughed at your back,¡± she continued the roast.


    ¡°You¡­¡± he uttered, but he wasn¡¯t smart enough to come up with a counter.


    She dignified him by turning back to face him.


    ¡°I, on the other hand, trace shadows, perhaps too much,¡± she sighed.


    ¡°I will tell you my conspiracy theory, not because I have fondness or respect for your family. But because the King is undermining the balance of power¡­,¡± she shared.


    ¡°And I must prevent it¡­¡±