“Kneel, peasant! For you stand in the presence of Prince Avalon of House Artorius!” My shifty Scoutmaster announced.
The prisoner, who is in chains and manacles, slowly and hesitantly kneels in front of me. He seems to be a portly fellow of 40 or so winters. His hair is disheveled, and the state of his dress suggests that he was in the middle of an afternoon nap when the intrepid Turt apprehended him.
“You may stand.” I cordially invited my new prisoner. The man looks wary of my invitation until Turt nudges him from behind. He tentatively rises up and stands before me. His face is understandably tense, as if he’s deciding between betraying his longtime friend and saving his family from certain imprisonment. A difficult choice, I must admit and sympathize. But unfortunately for him, I intend on making this a really easy decision.
“I am going to be honest with you, peasant. I will sentence you to hang as a spy no matter what you say to me today. The only difference you can make today is how your family would be treated. In other words, your family is counting on you being honest and forthcoming.”
A sad but resolute expression faces me. “My lord… What guarantees do I have that my cooperation would safeguard my family?”
Turt instantly elbows him in the back of his head, causing a sharp yelp. “You stupid country bumpkin! We address the Prince of House Artorius as ‘Your Grace.’”
I casually reply. “ You have the noble words of an Imperial Prince. The lives of a family of peasants weigh but a feather compared to the weight of an Imperial promise. Your family will be safe if you cooperate and tell me about Rummy of Carnwennan. In fact, if he were to swear fealty to me, I may spare you out of consideration for him.”
The man looks visibly confused. “My… your Grace, are you here because of Rummy?”
“Yes, I know it’s hard to believe so, but peasants have no need to understand the motivations of princes. Now, let’s get to the task at hand. Tell me everything about Rummy of Carnwennan- from the moment you first met…”
***
The interviews of the tavern-keep and the legion Decanus took up most of the morning, so by the time lunch arrived, I was ready to take a much-needed afternoon nap. Sadly, that was not to be. A messenger notified me of a disturbance in the commercial district. It seemed that another street-brawl broke out amongst the so-called “nobles” of this town.
It pains my heart to see the gods-chosen leaders of men behave like undisciplined children. Good gods, if I were Rummy and I grew up seeing these buffoons strutting around town, I’d hate the concept of nobility too. By the Pantheon, just thinking about this fact enrages my soul. Either way, this embarrassing display ends now.
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“Paladin Pallusi, arrest every noble in the city and bring them before me.” I said with irritation.
He seems visibly confused. “For what reason, your Grace?”
“For disturbing the peace, for besmirching the name of Imperial nobility, and most importantly- for forcing me to waste my precious time.”
“Your will be done, your Grace.” He curtly salutes before leaving.
My Archmage approaches me after Ser Pallusi’s departure. “Your Grace, there are over 3 dozen noblemen left in Carnwennan. What are we to do with them?”
After a deep sigh, I ask in jest. “Is executing them all not a viable option?”
Schuma gives me a wry smile. “I am afraid not, your Grace.”
“Lock them all in a room until they agree on who shall serve on the city council. Deprive them of all luxuries. Let them know that the eyes of an Imperial prince are on them, and his Imperial patience is wearing thin.”
“Your will be done, your Grace.” He salutes and leaves my office.
As much as I would prefer to stay out of this petty squabble, I cannot have unrest in my rear while I conduct the most gruesome campaign of my military career. This quest that the Pantheon asked of me is nothing like putting down peasant rebellions in Yvain or intimidating upstart nobles in Perceval. Marching in the Western Wilderness to assault a fortress that is strong enough to stand up to its denizens is going to bleed my legions like never before.
No, based on the testimonies given by the tavernkeep and the Decanus, Rummy of Carnwennan has a vision for his life in this world, and would never negotiate that freedom away no matter how much gold we offer him or how many threats we issue at his city gate. The only way I could complete the quest and save this world is to launch a surprise attack that captures the fortress with minimal casualties.
A campaign like that would require perfect logistics, and I can’t have perfect logistics if there is lawlessness and strife in my city of supply. In many ways, the ineptitude of the nobles in Carnwennan across two generations contributed to the unreasonable degree of difficulty of this quest. Frankly, it's an unreasonable mess that I have to clean up with the blood of my legions.
Hopefully, under the forceful guidance of Archmage Schuma, we could set up a functional governing council with rule of law returning to the city. After that, we could mobilize some of the remaining civilians into the logistics corp under the auspices of the 626th. As an added bonus, we would be able to economically stimulate this depressed city. This would in turn reduce the rampant crime spree by the desperate and hungry.
Still, that would burn away another month of time, time that Rummy would wisely use to further fortify his position or build more wondrous weapons. And the more fortified his position is, the more legion blood would eventually soak the soil of the Wilds. It’s a race against time, and we are a month behind even with the perfect start, thanks to these spoiled brats.
Is it truly not a viable option to execute all of the nobles…?