DUCIS
A few days have passed since we recruited Luna into our rebellion and Eremus tells me that by the end of today, we will have the throne.
I look up; nothing in the clear blue sky suggests that today will be a day of great bloodshed, and the air is just as pleasantly cool as always.
However, Eremus says that today is the day, so I will believe in Eremus—just like always.
I just hope he doesn’t lose his nerve. He’s usually a lot more determined, but it seems last night really shook him. I’m not surprised, it was our first kill after all. We dealt with bandits out on the road, but it was always our soldiers who went ahead and killed them. Same for the assassinations of potential leaks.
We went personally yesterday because we knew we had to get used to the concept of killing with our own hands. If, on the battlefield, we react like Eremus did last night, then we’ll just end up getting killed.
“Nervous, Ducis?”
The question is asked by Lord Rutherford Wilhelm. He’s a handsome middle-aged man with neat, short brown hair and a well-trimmed goatee. His eyes are blue and seem to look at the world around him with perpetual friendliness.
Right now, we are on our way to the Royal Castle where the king dwells.
“A little,” I answer, inserting just the right amount of bashfulness into my tone and posture, “I mean, we’re going to do something really big today.”
“You are sure that we will succeed, right?” Wilhelm asks worriedly.
I nod respectfully, “Of course, Lord Wilhelm. I have made all the necessary preparations.”
Wilhelm’s shoulders loosen a little in relief, “Good, I am glad to hear that.”
Rutherford Wilhelm is not an evil man, simply an incompetent man. That is why he was chosen as our target of support and betrayal.
“Tell me, Ducis, what do you intend to do once I become king?” Wilhelm asks.
“I intend to help you reach even greater heights, Lord Wilhelm. I intend to help you conquer the entire world!” I declare obsequiously.
Wilhelm smiles. How gullible.
“Such grand ambitions… I like your spirit, but let us leave such aspirations behind for a while. For now, becoming king of Salvorum is more than enough.”
Yes… Wilhelm’s words just prove that he isn’t fit to be the king. No vision, no ambition; all he does is lust after the title and privilege of being king.
How shallow.
We walk a little more before we find ourselves standing in front of the gold-adorned, thick gates of the Royal Castle. The walls loom high over all who stand before it, and whoever may harbour intentions of breaking through will suddenly find that those intentions have been wiped clean from their brain.
The Royal castle is located in the middle of the city of Eagswall and is surrounded by the Golden district like a ring that keeps all the unwanted middle and lower classes out.
Wilhelm shows his signet ring to the guards and they quickly bow before pulling the gate open. I follow Wilhelm inside.
I’ve only ever seen the inside of the Royal Castle a few times, and I don’t care much for aesthetics, but I have to admit, the inside of the Royal Castle is highly impressive.
The ground is evenly paved in pristine white and it stretches out at least five times wider than our hideout in the Beggar’s district. I can barely see the walls that surround the castle due to this distance.
I gaze upon all the silver-armoured soldiers mobilized in this giant expanse and Eremus’ words ring in my head.
“Based on the sketch you’ve drawn for me, the battle will most likely take place on the courtyard.”
This will be the battleground. This pristine white will be stained with the blood of tens of thousands.
So be it. The only thing I care about is fulfilling our ambition.
The king’s actual audience chamber is located on the other end of the courtyard. To compensate, the walls are much higher on the other end. A few stairs bring us up to the main building in this place.
The main building is an enormous three-storied pagoda made up of layers and layers of stone for protection with fine wood plated over it. Extravagant golden animals adorn the wooden plating, adding to the aesthetic of the pagoda.
The wood-plated gates are open and flanked by only two guards, but even so, we obviously can’t enter just like that. Wilhelm talks to the guard for a bit, and moments later, we are being led into the castle.
The inside is wide and lined with lanterns, but since the sunlight is filtering in through the windows, they remain unlit. Its walls are just like the outside, plated in fine wood and adorned with golden designs.
The guard leads us through a series of rooms until we finally reach a set of doors made up of what seems like pure gold. He talks to a rather plump man for a few seconds before bowing to Wilhelm and leaving the way we came.
The plump man enters through the gold doors and we wait. That plump man is a messenger after all, he will tell us when we can enter.
After a few seconds, the golden doors swing open (due to the guards behind the doors inside) and a loud voice echoes through the chamber:
“ANNOUNCING LORD RUTHERFORD WILHELM!”
We enter—a challenge in its own right. It may sound quite easy, but even entering the king’s audience chamber is quite complicated.
Wilhelm walks in with his chest and head held just high enough. He must show off his pride and nobility to the other nobles gathered in the room, but he must make sure that it doesn’t seem like he’s bearing his fangs at the king.
I trail behind Wilhelm, my head down and footsteps meek. I must make sure not to seem like anything other than Wilhelm’s accessory. I am not worthy of attention in this hall, so I must make sure not to draw any. Failure to remain in the background can lead to dire consequences.
Such as execution.
Wilhelm cannot stop that as he would risk losing an alliance—or the chance of an alliance—with a noble house; he values me a lot now, but even someone as incompetent as him understands that to lose an alliance with a noble house due to an attachment to some middle-class child is simply not worth it.
The audience chamber is also plated in fine wood adorned with gold designs. At the end of the room lies a set of steps leading up to the throne. The seat and back of the throne are fitted with comfortable-looking red cushions while the rest of it seems to be made of pure bronze. Several vague yet graceful looking designs protrude from the bronze, giving it a sort of majestic feel.
That’s where king Villibus Regis sits. He’s a well-built man—genes of the great Calamity-King no doubt—but his well-shaved face lacks any of the drive one might expect a scion of the Calamity-King to have.
There are about forty people here, almost all of them dressed in silk robes. They are all standing and subtly eying Wilhelm while keeping their heads respectfully inclined at the ground. This behaviour and amount of people is normal. Every day the government bureaucrats convene here to discuss policy, domestic issues, foreign affairs, intelligence reports, and whatever else they need to discuss.
Or at least, that’s what they’re supposed to be doing. Now all they do is bicker amongst one another in order to find any way they can to use the power of the law to gain an edge over each other, leaving the poor to suffer due to their courtly struggles.
Eremus would probably eye these people with distaste and clench his fists tight enough to draw blood if he were here right now.
I, however, do not care. My only goal is peace, everything else comes after.
“Your Majesty,” Wilhelm greets as we kneel.
Out of the corner of my eye, I spy a smile on the king’s face. Understandable as Wilhelm has entered the king’s circle of most trusted friends as per my suggestion (a suggestion that I made on Eremus’ orders).
“Rutherford, great to see you,” the king greets, “What brings you here?”
He’s making his affection too apparent, a quick glance around the chamber tells me that the other nobles and ministers present find this less than preferable.
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“I simply thought I’d attend the meeting today, Your Majesty,” Wilhelm says, his voice unknowingly mirroring mine when I talk to him.
“That’s great!” The king exclaims like an excited child. This man is already thirty years old, has he still learned no dignity?
“Stand up then, Rutherford,” he says, “Let’s get this meeting going.”
Wilhelm and I stand and find a place among the gathered people. Without the king’s permission, chatter and debates recommence, however it seems that the king does not care. He's simply content to lounge on his comfy chair.
What a tepid fool.
Suddenly, the doors crash open with a loud ‘BANG!’ and everyone falls into silence, turning to look. A haggard messenger dashes inside and falls to his knees in front of the king.
Eremus’ words echo in my head,
“While you’re in court, a messenger will appear, and he’ll probably in quite a hurry. That’s because he’ll come with some extremely distressing news.”
“Your Majesty!” The messenger exclaims, “It’s an emergency! Our scouts in the South have caught glimpses of multiple flags indicating a large presence of Vincerian soldiers!”
There is a shocked silence for all of five seconds before the words sink into each and every one of their brains. At once, everyone starts yelling in panic.
“VINCERE? THAT VINCERE—"
“HOW DID THEY GET TO OUR SOUTH—"
“WHAT DO WE DO—"
“HOW CLOSE ARE THEY TO THE CITY? HOW MUCH TIME UNTIL THEY GET HERE—"
“NO! THEY HAVE THE CONQUERER, IURA—"
“NO ONE CAN STOP HER! WE’LL DIE—"
The panicked voices drown each other out, producing an incomprehensible jumble of voices and the fearful looks on everyone’s faces only increases the terror in the room.
Just as Eremus expected.
“No doubt it’ll be chaos. Vincere is the country that took over the entire Eastern half of Terra, and with a legend like Iura, someone who orchestrated the downfall of Ardenia, still in service, the entire court will be driven into a fear-induced panic. That’s when Lord Wilhelm will come in."
“EVERYONE, CALM YOURSELVES!”
Wilhelm’s voice is not particularly louder than the others’ but there is a sense of calm in his voice that overpowers their panic. The volume in the room dies down, and suddenly, all eyes are on him.
“We must prepare our forces!” He says in a strong voice, “Messenger, tell me, where did the scouts spy these flags.”
“Er—in the Ipsum forest to the south,” the messenger answers nervously, “Of course, the greenery is so dense there, we could only catch sight of the flags before they disappeared even deeper into the wilderness.”
“The forest… so they intend to hide their numbers…” Wilhelm muses to the whole room.
“B-but do we have an estimate?” One of the bureaucrats cries out helplessly.
“From what we could estimate by just looking at the flags, they number at least 400,000!”
“400,000!” A voice from the crowd yells, “Do they truly intend to destroy us?”
The room falls silent at the question and a new wave of fear quickly envelops the room again. Just when it seems like the tension is about to snap the entire room in half, I give Wilhelm a subtle nod.
“We must send our army to meet them!” He resolutely declares to the court, “We cannot let them approach the capital!”
The court, which was just lost a few seconds ago, is now presented with a course of action. Of course, they grasp at it like it’s their final lifeline.
“Yeah!”
“We will show them our military’s might!”
“We should send a message to all of our lords and tell them to convene to Lorem village, it’s the village nearest to the Ipsum forests!”
Wilhelm steps forward, silencing the court, and kneels to the king, “Your Majesty! Please lend us some of your forces! We need all the manpower we can—”
“Enough.” A gravelly voice from the crowd rings out. A man with a gruff face pushes his way forward. He has a goatee on his wide jaw, his red eyes sparkle with intelligence, and his black hair is tied up in a very short ponytail.
“You’re rushing into this too much, Lord Wilhelm,” he says calmly, “The Vincerian army is hiding their numbers in the forest, so there is a strong possibility that they are trying to fool us into believing that they have more soldiers than they really do by simply putting up more flags. We must first confirm the situation, then we can decide on a course of action.
Oh? This man is quite sharp…
Who is he?
But even so, no matter. However sharp he may be, Eremus has already prepared for a possibility like this too.
“Someone may fight through that feeling of sudden determination and realize that just sending an entire army at an enemy that’s hiding its numbers and strength is a foolish idea. However, even a person like that won’t be able to argue against action when presented with evidence that shows off the enemy’s ability.”
The sound of rapidly approaching footsteps breaks our attention away from the sharp man and we witness another messenger rush into the room, his face contorted with alarm.
He quickly kneels to the king before delivering his message.
“Your majesty, the Vincerian army has managed to capture six villages! Each one closer to Eagswall than the last—ending with Talwar!”
The court falls into a frightful silence again. Any thought of waiting and scoping out the situation has flown right out the window. Understandable, as…
“Talwar lies only a day’s march away from our capital!” The shout rings out, and suddenly, to the king and court, Wilhelm’s plan is the only acceptable one in this situation. Even the sharp man is grimacing worriedly—although, that may just be due to the sudden lack of support for his proposal.
I give Wilhelm another subtle nod, and he announces his rehearsed lines,
“Messenger, when did you set off for Eagswall?” He asks the previous messenger.
“Er—four days ago?” The messenger answers timidly.
“And you?” Wilhelm asks the messenger who just came in.
“Three days ago.”
I’m surprised, and so is the rest of the court. Eremus expected the second messenger to arrive a day later. He hoped that if additional scouts were sent, then this distressing news from the second messenger would spur the king to send his forces before the additional scouts reported back anything that might unveil our plan. It’s rare for Eremus to be wrong with his predictions, but for the second messenger to arrive mere minutes after the first, despite setting out a day later, is quite the unpredictable and impressive occurrence.
No matter, things work better for us this way anyway.
“Tell me, messenger,” a member of the court speaks, “How did you arrive here so quick?”
“Lord Douglas lent me his finest steed, my lord!” The messenger says, dropping his head in a quick bow.
“Messenger,” Wilhelm says, bringing the attention of the room back on himself, “What can you tell us about the captured villages?”
“Er—I apologize my lord, but our scouts weren’t able to get too close due to the Vincerian soldiers stationed in each village. Although, we can be sure that the Vincerian army isn’t simply intending to raid those villages as they have propped up their banners in each one.”
“Declaration of capture, eh…” the sharp man muses, “So they really intend to destroy Salvorum and take its territory for themselves… even so, how did they penetrate so deep without alerting anyone?"
His confusion makes sense. There are cities and villages dotted across the country that would have spotted such a large army. And even if the enemy manages to accomplish the impossible feat of avoiding being spotted by those cities and villages, there are still armies of various lords and scouts patrolling across Salvorum that would have undoubtedly spotted them.
For an enemy army to make it this far and take over several villages without raising a hair of suspicion… it must be baffling for one well-versed in the ways of war such as him.
“It will seem impossible to them,”
Eremus had said,
“And impossible is often suspicious. If they think too deeply, they will realize that it’s impossible for an enemy to make it this far into our territory without revealing their presence. Luckily, there’s someone whose reputation that we can take advantage of.”
Wilhelm turns to the sharp man, “Lord Davis,” he calls. So the man’s name is Davis, good to know. “Clearly, this is the work of the Conqueror. She must have used a stratagem that none of us can even imagine.”
Davis narrows his eyes, “It is essential for us to know their method of entry—!”
“The enemy is a day’s march away from the capital!” Wilhelm yells passionately. He really is quite the actor, isn’t he? “We do not have time to figure out the workings of a strategy that comes from the Conqueror herself. No matter what stratagem she used, it will most probably take us at least months to figure out how it works. We MUST take action now!”
“Lord Davis we do not have time to squabble anymore,” a lord beside Davis says, “We can figure out the Conqueror’s method later. Right now, we need to act.”
A glance around the room tells him that all the nobles agree with that statement.
Davis scowls defiantly, but he knows he is cowed. The court will no longer entertain his proposal.
“Your Majesty,” Wilhelm says, turning to look up at the king, “We must send our forces out to Lorem forest, we cannot let the battle unfold here in the capital, where the fate of the entire country of Salvorum lies on a single victory or defeat.”
The court waits for the king’s response. After all, in the end, the decision lies with the king.
Fortunately, the king is weak, so he is easily influenced by his court.
“I agree,” he says, nodding, “Now, the only question is, how do we amass a sizable enough force?”
Oh? He’s considered the problems with this decision better than I expected. I thought he would simply say “yes” and leave the rest to Wilhelm.
Not bad.
“We must make use of some of Your Majesty’s troops,” Wilhelm says, bowing deeply.
The king instantly looks more resistant to this course of action. He’s a coward after all, convincing him to voluntarily let go of his troops—the ones who provide him with protection—will not be easy.
“Of course, you must remain here, Your Majesty,” Wilhelm continues, “To risk you is the equivalent of risking Eagswall itself. We merely need, say… 85,000 troops from your army, the rest shall stay here to provide you with protection.”
Clearly, the king is unsure of how he should feel. On one hand, he will remain in the safety of the capital, yet on the other, with only 15,000 to protect him, he will be left far more vulnerable than ever before.
“30,000!” Davis suddenly announces, walking to the middle of the court and kneeling to the king, “15,000 is not enough, we should leave his majesty with 30,000 troops to protect him. 70,000 is still a sizable number, and you shall be sending your troops of 60,000 too, correct, Lord Wilhelm?”
This is a bit problematic…
Davis suspects something. Not that the court nor the king realize, of course, but Davis has revealed his suspicions to me by doubling the amount of protection the king has, and defanging—from what he can see—the only viable threat to the king in one fell swoop.
“Also, there is no need for us to march to Lorem forest,” Davis says, “If the enemy has made it as far as Talwar, then we simply need to go there and pick up the enemy’s trail from there.”
There are murmurings of agreement from the court and the king nods, probably just happy at the thought of more protection.
“That sounds reasonable.”
I suppress a grimace. This situation is becoming worse by the minute. Eremus’ carefully laid plans barely have any room to work now. If this trend continues, then…
No.
I won’t let us be foiled here. The plan will be more constrained, but we can still make it work. We must simply get rid of Davis.
I subtly hand-sign the next set of instructions to Wilhelm, and he gives me a slight nod.
“Very well,” Wilhelm accepts graciously, not showing any emotion on his face, “I shall send all of my forces on this campaign. All 60,000 of them.”
Davis’ eyes narrow in suspicion, but he cannot say anything to that.
Wilhelm continues, “And I recommend Lord Davis be the commander of this joint army.”
Davis’ eyes widen and his head snaps to Wilhelm. Clearly, he has realized the implication of that statement. If he is appointed the commander of the joint army, then he cannot remain behind to protect the king from whatever plot he suspects Wilhelm of concocting.
“What?” The king asks, “You do not wish to lead this army, Rutherford?”
Wilhelm releases a modest sort of laugh,
“Unfortunately, Your Majesty, it seems I am not capable enough. Davis is correct, we must ride to Talwar, not Lorem forest; he has clearly proved that he has better judgment than me in these matters.”
The court breaks out in murmurs of agreement, and suddenly, Davis cannot refuse anymore. To refuse the endorsement of the entire court would be a tremendous insult—even the most political-savvy of nobles wouldn’t be able to recover from such a significant drop in influence.
“Very well your majesty,” Davis says with a deep bow. His eyes flash with aversion, but there’s nothing he can do anymore.
The king smiles, traces of worry still revealing themselves in his eyes and mouth,
“Very good.”
I suspect my expression mirrors his.