Lykourgos XI: Taproom Dealings

The Fifteenth Day of the Ninth Moon, 873 AD.

The Soldier's March, Owkrestan-Triarian Borderlands, Klironomea.

The ride to the Three Lambs inn took him only a few days, for he was travelling light and alone. At first he'd thought he might be headed to the wrong place, but according to a few locals when he'd asked around the 'Evergreen Layman' had changed its owner and name some years ago now. Lykourgos supposed that King Thrytas must not have known before setting out, but it made little difference to him. He was hardly going to turn back now, not seeing as he was already here. Because he didn't want to be stopped or seen along the road he wasn't exactly regally-dressed either, and neither were his guards. They were wearing some light armour, mostly a dull studded leather like his brother's battle-dress, since he didn't want any of them to be completely unprotected, and they all carried blades on their person. He had all five of his on him right now, as a matter of fact. He looked... not poor, but certainly not rich either. He'd caught a glance of himself in a pool of clear water whilst riding yesterday, and he looked like a relatively average, if well-equipped and well-kempt, sellsword. The letter he'd been sent hadn't left his pocket since he'd set off, for he was worried the Triarian king wouldn't believe that he was Prince Lykourgos, but somehow he doubted that would be an issue. How many people were sent missives by a king unless the man knew who they were in advance?

He came to a stop as the inn came into view, dusk settling across the land, and nodded at the men to his side.

"Elanulo, make sure the men are ready to move at a moment's notice. It's unlikely we'll be camping here or staying at the inn tonight, for one reason or another."

"Your will be done, your Grace."

The knight in sellsword's garb banged a leather-clad fist to his chest in a gesture of respect and supplication, then turned to make good on the orders he had been given. He still had the guards with him, so he hadn't completely disregarded all advice, but showing up with them to this meeting was likely to give off the wrong impression.

He continued riding on and dismounted his mare swiftly as he drew closer to the building, patting the side of her mane affectionately as he flipped a silver crow to an ostler over at the side. The young man scrambled for the coin and diligently began shovelling fresh hay out into a small stall.

"A feed bag for her as well, ostler. Oats. You'll be tipped for it, don't worry."

The young man nodded hurriedly and made to see to Lykourgos' mount, and so with an acknowledging nod he walked inside. The inn itself was nothing special, just a small taproom with a few tables off to one side away from the door and a wall of ale barrels at the far end. There was the faint smell of cooked meat wafting from a room towards the back, and a small stairwell leading up to what he presumed would be a small number of rooms for overnight stayers.

"Greetings, traveller!"

The voice of the innkeeper was jovial, but cautious. Lykourgos wasn't surprised, for there probably weren't many innkeepers that were happy to see sellswords in their taverns and taphouses. They paid good money and drank a good deal of booze, but they also had a tendency to make a nuisance of themselves and start fights. He had no intention of doing any such thing however, so he was certain the innkeeper would be put at ease soon enough. There were a few people sat at tables around the room, but not many. He counted five people sat at the moment, and another two stood with mugs of ale by the barrels at the other side of the room. He turned his gaze back to the innkeeper, who looked at him quizzically.

"Bit frightful, are we ser?"

Lykourgos let out an easy smile at the man's joking tone. Places like this weren't quite like the urban taverns he was used to back in Aenirhen and Anaria, but they certainly had a charm of their own after a long day on the road.

"It's been a long few days. Have you heard the news from the west?"

The innkeeper nodded, folding his arms and resting them on the table as he leaned in almost conspiratorially.

"Bits and pieces. 'pparently there's some sort of a war going on, or ending as it were. Some prince from Teleytaios 'as finally 'ad enough of the Owkrestans and done 'em in. I ain't happy for no war so close to my home, but if it can stop the bandits from constantly harrying us then I'll be grateful for it, and Anawroth 'll bless it. You've come from the west, 'ave you?"

Lykourgos nodded, finding it a little amusing that this innkeeper still had no idea who he was, and hopefully never would.

"Aye, I have. Just stepped out of the war, and I'm heading east to meet someone."

The innkeeper just nodded.

"Ah, the business of sellswords. I used to be a mercenary as well once, but when I got hitched my wife stopped me from heading out anymore. I've never feared a Tildan crossbow so much as I've feared her, and no mistake."

The prince found himself chuckling along with the man despite the urgent business that brought him here. It was refreshing to actually have a moment to gather himself, especially after such a fast ride.

"Anyway, what can I do for you?"

"I'll take a tankard from the top shelf if you'd please, innkeeper. Food as well; it was a hard ride. I'm looking to meet with someone, actually. A contact of mine said he'd meet me here."

The two men weren't contacts at all, and in fact Lykourgos had never met King Thrytas of Triarios in his life, but the innkeeper didn't have to know that.

"Oh, certainly! We do have someone here who said he's waiting for someone to get here. He's been in one of our rooms all day, you sit down and I'll fetch him for you."

Lykourgos smiled at the man.

"Thank you. Best make that two tankards and two meals in that case."

The innkeeper bowed his head a little, then left to go find the man who had called Lykourgos here. The prince sat down at one of the tables next to the rough-stone wall, unbuckling the straps that kept his longsword and scabbard across his back and propping it against the table by the hilt. His stomach gurgled a little as he waited, and despite himself he wished that the king, if indeed the Triarian King really was here, would just hurry up. Angels, he was hungry.

After a few minutes lost in thought he was broken from his silence by the arrival of a man who looked to be around twenty years older than he was dressed in a very similar fashion. It seemed that there wasn't too much trust between them just yet.

"I see you travelled in much the same way as I did." He tried for an opener. The man, the king, smiled for a moment, looking more than a little amused.

"Indeed. Angels, this must be a funny sight. Here we are, two sovereign heads of state, sat in a lowborn's inn whilst dressed in a sellsword's garb. There's something I doubt the songs will tell of."

"Where are my manners," Lykourgos replied as the drinks and food were brought to the table, "Lykourgos. Lykourgos Sperakos."

"Thrytas Sigiros." Came the reply. "I have heard much of you this last year, young prince, just as I did five years ago. How blunt do you want me to be in this conversation?"

"Your letter hinted at a few possibilities. I do not wish to beat around the bush at all; I wish for you to be as candid as you feel necessary in this moment."

The king smiled conspiratorially at him and raised his tankard in cheers.

"Okay, so as blunt as I can be. Let's see then, how can I put this... Prince Lykourgos, you seem to be a rather good leader for your people. You've won against a numerically superior opponent in three wars now across your short life, and with the acquisition of Owkrestos and what I gather to be the piecemeal destruction of the Klironomean nobility you will only grow stronger. People see Triarios as a kingdom of soldiers, and they're not wrong, but we're also shrewd businessmen. I recognise a good investment when I see one. I would swear my kingdom to you as a vassal, forsaking my title in return for another."

Lykourgos raised an eyebrow, doing his best to not show surprise. Now that was one hell of a fucking curveball. He'd expected some form of proposed alliance, something that might let him get the edge over the remaining kingdoms of the Heptarchy, not a flat out gesture of submission! He'd won the crowns of two kingdoms by force, and yet it seemed that the nation renowned for its military prowess was the one that was willing to flat-out give up before any conflict had even started. Still, he was getting ahead of himself, and there were plenty of other considerations to be made before he accepted an offer that was too good to be true.

"Another title, you say? And what, may I ask, would that be?"

Thrytas gave him a level stare as he continued to scarf down his meal, which was a little odd, but then Triarians generally were quite strange.

"I'll take the title of Grand Duke, and I wish for my family to rule as hereditary Masters of Iron, having complete authority over military matters save commands from yourself and the royal family."

Lykourgos mulled it over. It certainly seemed to be a good offer, but offers as good as this were often too good to be true. This would give Thrytas a hefty amount of power in the decision making processes of the kingdom, but it would save him an entire war since he'd have the backing of the Cult of Anawroth and they answered to Thrytas, so if they signed a legal document saying this the only fighting would be against any feudal lords who refused to recognise him as their ruler and would thusly be seen as rebels. He absent-mindedly swirled the ale in his tankard as he spoke, his voice careful and measured.

"And of course I presume yourself and your vassals would retain your current lands and titles, the exception of 'King' notwithstanding?"

The Triarian royal smiled at him in a conspiratorial manner.

"I care not for what becomes of the lands of my vassals. If you accept this deal and permit me to seize the lands of the Arthaxan Platea from my erstwhile vassals, I would not only bend the knee to you but actively assist you in seizing and pacifying the rest of Triarios for yourself."

Lykourgos squinted.

"You're willing to give an awful lot for a relatively small tract of land and a position on my council, your Grace. What aren't you telling me?"

To Lykourgos' surprise the soldier-king laughed. Not in derision or disbelief, but genuine mirth.

"You don't understand, do you? I'm being genuine! I have no intention of ending up like the Old Oak, and dealing with the lords under my rule is quite possibly the most miserable part of my life. I'm sure you think much the same, else you wouldn't have supported your father so readily in the Twilight Rebellion."

Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.

Lykourgos stiffened slightly.

"I would have followed my father regardless of his command. He was my father and their King. It was the duty of his vassals to follow him as I did."

Thrytas smiled.

"Now we're getting somewhere. That's the spark I wanted to see. Pomp and splendour gets you nowhere here, that much is true, but what people fail to understand is that it is not strength Triarios values most, but duty. Something in your eyes tells me you've always done your duty, no matter what. I respect that in a man. I value it in a King."

Lykourgos nodded respectfully. He already knows I've accepted his offer, but he allows me to ponder regardless.

"I take it you're going to demand some sort of marriage alliance to seal this offer?"

The man spat on the floor next to him and all but threw his crown at Lykourgos, the action attracting the attention of a few of the men in the room. When they realised exactly what was going on, exactly who they were, most of them were dumbstruck. Some looked like they might be weighing up exactly how much money the two of them had on them and whether it was worth trying their luck, but a nonchalant laying of his hand on the top of his longsword hilt and a glance in their direction seemed to stop any such notions almost immediately.

"Piss on that. Marriage ties are for those who need an incentive other than duty to keep their word. Now pick up that bloody crown and you'll rule three kingdoms."

"Two and a half. You'd still control half of Triarios, as per our deal."

The man rolled his eyes.

"In your name. Now pick it up and tell me what's next."

"What do you mean?"

The man grinned.

"Nordicos or Licotemos?"

Lykourgos smiled, hiding a certain measure of disappointment. This was the sort of man he wouldn't mind maintaining as a lord under him: a power-hungry, ruthless, and morally bankrupt war profiteer. That's why Thrytas wanted to give in so readily; he owned the largest war-goods trade in the country, and with Lykourgos' not exactly subtle ambitions there would be a great many purchases made soon. Thrytas was set to become rich off of whatever wars came next, richer than all the tithes the title of 'King' might earn him, and so he was willing to throw away his prestige and side by Lykourgos in the name of profit.

And this was the sort of man Lykourgos was happy to keep as a lord. Perhaps he was little better than the kings who had come before him.

He banished such a trail of thought. He'd never be as bad as them. Never. He was preventing a war with this, and nothing more.

"All in good time, my Lord. All in good time."

Lykourgos picked the crown up of the floor and set in on the table. The man put forwards his right arm and spoke.

"So we have a deal? I throw my damnable vassals to the wolves to keep power and you get a kingdom, a vassal with a vested interest in watching it go from strength to strength, and the ability to strike at what's left of the Heptarchy."

Lykourgos clasped the proffered arm.

"You're one ruthless bastard, you know that right?"

The man smiled.

"Aye, that I do."

"You- Your Graces," the innkeeper began, stumbling over his words and clutching his cap between his hands, "I did not realise that-"

"No need to worry, your hospitality has been quite welcome. I am sure my Teleytaian friend here agrees?"

Lykourgos nodded, chuckling a little.

"I certainly do. Top shelf again if you wouldn't mind, innkeeper."

He turned to face Thrytas, and raised an eyebrow.

"I believe it's your turn to buy the drinks?"

The man rolled his eyes, but did smile, so Lykourgos took that as a good sign.

"I can send out someone to the next village to find wine, your Graces, you needn't drink-"

"It's already nighttime, and ale will do just fine for us. Thank you for the offer, however."

"Certainly, your Graces. I'll- I'll get your drinks for you now."

Lykourgos nodded appreciatively at the man as he nervously waddled away, this entire situation seeming admittedly quite funny. Usually state business was conducted in grand palaces and magnificent halls of power, not in the front rooms of dimly lit taverns. Dragging his thoughts back to the present he looked back at his... he guessed now the man was his vassal, which definitely made this an interesting dinner.

"So, I take it there are other points you wish to discuss."

"Yeah. All of this will be repeated in a document which will be drafted with my oversight, so there will be something more binding than words for all of this, but I thought you might prefer to talk it out first. There's much to be said for a few drinks and a hearty meal in negotiations."

Lykourgos ate a few more mouthfuls of his meal as Thrytas spoke, trying not to laugh and cover the man as he chewed. The food itself was really rather good, better than he'd been expecting from this place anyway. A lamb shank seasoned with fistfuls of herbs in a rich gravy supplemented with mashed turnip and roasted leek wasn't exactly a king's dinner, but it served to satisfy him well enough. He might not have often eaten food like this, but he'd be lying if he said he wasn't a fan of the odd piece of lamb. Judging by how quickly Thrytas' plate had gone down Lykourgos suspected that he'd quite enjoyed it as well.

Lykourgos suspected he knew what the other points were to be, most prevalent amongst them being the matter of the manufactories that had begun to form under the guidance of house Sigiros. Nominally speaking these places were a commercial venture, and as such that left them in a bit of a strange place where the matter of land ownership was concerned. It could and would be sorted in this conversation he felt, but he would be lying if he said he wasn't hoping for a cut of their profits.

The running of a kingdom was expensive work after all, and seeing as he hoped to make something more profitable and productive out of the vast tracts of agricultural land he had come into possession of he would need funds to make such an endeavour possible.

"Now, onto the matter of the manufactories. As you are likely aware, several of these manufactories are located outside of the lands under my house's direct control. Under the current conditions of the contract we are discussing, you would take ownership of them. This is not something my family can abide by. Still, we will recognise your claim to the land and will be willing to pay you in gold for them, not in the manner of purchasing a feudal demesne but instead as a business lease. You lease the lands to us in perpetuity, and we give you one-fifth of the profits on top of the taxes and tithes we will already be paying to you. Does that sound fair?"

Lykourgos nodded slowly. It certainly seemed to be a good deal to him, though there was one thing that needed asking first...

"It sounds fair to me, but I need you to clarify something for me first. You claim that you would own the land as a merchant might own a warehouse, and not as a lord owns a county, yes?"

Thrytas nodded with a small smile, likely amused by his apparent paranoia. Still, he'd rather appear paranoid now than foolish in five years time.

"I see. So whilst you would maintain nominal control over commercial matters and when it comes to the facilities your companies operate under, you would not control the military forces raised from there?"

"Not in my capacity as a lord, no. I would wield some measure of control over them seeing as I'd have the position of Master of Iron, but I would not have their final loyalties. Those would lie with you."

Lykourgos smiled a little, satisfied, but quickly smothered it. Smiling when negotiations went well wasn't exactly the best tactic one could use, given that it only tended to embolden the other parties. Still, this new partnership was already seeming rather lucrative to him.

"That all sounds amenable to me. I trust your foundries can make a sufficient quantity of billhooks and arrowheads in the coming year? Good ones too, bodkin point?"

"And a great deal of armour besides. May I ask why you are asking such a question?"

Lykourgos nodded at his new vassal. It seemed fair enough, especially given that Lykourgos was now to be both his king and his client.

"I've come into possession of a lot of new wealth recently, and a lot of new lands. This gives me the ability to greatly expand the ranks of the professional forces under my command. As of the start of this conflict there were around six-thousand armsmen in Teleytaios as well as just under two thousand in Owkrestos. When combined with the armsmen of Triarios that should make what, somewhere around twelve-thousand? Two thousand of those belong to you directly, or so I understand it, but nevertheless I wish to expand the ranks of the armsmen. Another three-thousand before the beginning of the next war would mean that, combined with the knights in our combined realm, there will be a little over twenty-thousand professional soldiers forming the bulk of the army. That would enable us to take on any Licoteman peasant host or Kortheran levied army and win."

The ex-king of Triarios smiled back at him, no doubt pleased for a number of reasons. Of course, as a Triarian, he was always pleased when professionalism was valued in armies, but there were other points to be considered as well. The first was that, despite now having sworn fealty to him, the equipment of those soldiers wouldn't be free. Lykourgos would be surprised if the man didn't try and get in his good graces by providing the equipment relatively cheaply, but there would still be a price paid.

Of course, arguably greater than that was the fact that, when he was to be appointed as the Master of Iron, that would mean he was responsible for those men. Effectively, from his perspective anyway, Lykourgos must have been paying him to increase his own power.

If that wasn't a display of trust then Lykourgos didn't know what was.

"Excellent. Yes, I think our foundries and smiths can get that done for you. I think, with the monetary purchases you'll be making, you might just have financed an expansion of my own armsmen. Yes, that money and my new lands should certainly cover it. Now there's a deal for you, your Grace; purchase three-thousand and get another thousand for free. You'll be well on the way to unifying these lands come the end of next year, and there can be no-one who would say otherwise on that front. Now we'd best be off, unless you want to actually spark a war when your lieutenants find you missing and jump to conclusions."

"Won't you be heading back east, towards Stratiopolis?"

Thrytas shook his head, a strangely amused smile on his face.

"Actually, I'll be riding back with you. I think it would be rather good to show your new Owkrestan subjects that your power extends beyond their borders, would it not?"

Lykourgos turned to look at the man. Surely he wanted to deal with his coming war at home first?

"But your armies-"

"Are being mustered by my sons, ostensibly in preparation for you to attempt an invasion across the border. As soon as you march east into the lands of my vassal lords they will seize the territories that we have agreed belong to me before marching west to join up with us."

"Your armsmen and levies are your own, but any armsmen amongst your vassals who turns his cloak and joins our side will be mine to command."

The Triarian nodded.

"That sounds amenable to me. I don't want any turncloaks amongst my forces anyway."

Lykourgos snorted a little, amused by the man's half-joking tone. He knew exactly where any who switched sides would be sent, just as he knew exactly where the armsmen of Owkrestos who had surrendered would go. Lieutenant Daniil. A thousand men who'd turned their cloaks was exactly the kind of command that someone too afraid to attempt treason would do well with, since he'd be paranoid enough to keep them in check.

After all, if he didn't then it was his head that was on the line.

Still, Lykourgos needed to be wary of this man. Maybe he was just a pragmatist who'd seen the ways the wind was blowing and wished to maximise his power by the side of the new order, to be a part of the rising power that would otherwise come to blows with him. It was more likely he had motives of his own, however. Everyone had an ulterior motive when it came to games of power, and there were very few to whom that didn't apply. Eli had mentioned before that he had the beginnings of a rat's nest in Triarios, so perhaps that would provide some information in time. He'd have to ask his old friend about it sooner rather than later, he felt. He didn't want to be left in the dark and risk another attempt on his life. Not when his rise now seemed so assured.

"In that case it will be as you say. A portion of my armies will remain in Owkrestos so as to quell any unrest, whilst the majority will be led by my commanders into Triarios. I myself will not be joining them, as there is still far too much to do closer to home. I trust that will be acceptable to you?"

The man stiffly nodded, seemingly a little displeased that Lykourgos didn't want to lead his men himself but, in fairness, he wasn't prepared to take a risk and walk into what might be a trap at the moment. Besides, he wasn't lying, he really did need to do a lot of work here before moving on and doing anything else. The integration of the Owkrestan administration, or rather its establishment since any form of central governance seemed to have been abandoned in the last few decades thanks to a succession of truly terrible kings, would take a few years to complete in full, and so unrest was likely to be higher until the time that the integration was completed. The tax rebate should deal with the worst of that, though he wasn't foolish enough to believe there would be absolutely no resentment amongst the conquered population. They would come around in time, since he had no intention of treating them any worse than those he'd ruled over previously.

"In that case Triarios would be glad to assist you with the forging of a truly royal army. We were founded by the old Klironomean Legions, and we too remember the values of discipline and leadership amongst the soldiery. Yes, we'll see to helping you with this. In that case I believe we have a deal, yes?"

Lykourgos grinned and clasped the man's arm, standing from the table.

"I think we do. Gather your things and mount your horse, we can be at Stagspring in a few days if the weather is good and I'd rather ride through the night to make up some of that distance now. If you're not too scared of a little night riding, that is?"

The man laughed and clapped him on the shoulder with his free hand.

"Ah, my boys will love you. Very well then, let's be off."

Lykourgos nodded and turned to the innkeeper, threw him a small pouch of golden ravens, and turned to leave. Right now he was in a very good mood, and there was little in this world that he felt would be able to stop that.