Meristal didn’t feel much like her titles today. Instead, she felt like a house maid. In truth, when she ascended to the highest office, she became Lady of the Kothlere Council, Consul of Ralloc domain, Commander of the Grand Royal Army. Today, however, it was closer to Mother of Dirty Breeches, Sufferer of Squabbling Babies, Mass Murderer of the Kothlere Council’s dreams. The War Council required her attention this morning, and if they had it their way, she’d be with them for the rest of the week. With her practiced lawyer’s face, she schooled her aristocratic features, took a deep breath, and entered the chambers.

“Madam Consul,” Master Jynerul Tyku greeted. All the jyneruls lurched to their feet as Meristal swept into the room with three other individuals in tow. Her dark purple robes with gold embroidery swirled about her. The five highest officers remained standing as she took her chair; her small entourage spied chairs and seated themselves with haste at the far end of the table.

“Be seated, good sires,” Meristal bade them.

The swelling of their ranks and the needs of the war machine were the two main topics up for discussion. War costs money and men, and the jyneruls expected to have both; due to the number of offices that pawed the Treasury, she created three billets filled by three individuals, and then cut off all access to the Treasury. It didn’t make her the most popular consul to date, but popularity would not win a war or keep them from going bankrupt.

Her first appointment had come collectively from the offices of imports and exports. She had many to choose from, including that of foreign trade and local commerce, she selected the person who held the post or similar position the longest and who would encourage a grander view of Ermaeyth as a whole. Finding the right person for the job rather than choosing the person most senior did not win her any favors either. In the case of this post, she named Master Wizard Roxie of the Vernetti House. The choice seemed straight forward enough for Meristal, but it caused backlash among the council.

Most objected to her age and her low rank. The second most notable reason came by way of her minor nobility. The politicians were divided on the issue, some insisting such a billet should fall to the noble houses. While not unheard of for a minor noble to receive the honor of a posting higher than their status, it was an uncommon occurrence, and each time, the level of promotion came nowhere near the same lurch in elevated status as Meristal bestowed. Thus, Roxie became the Master of Commerce.

Her second appointment could, theoretically, combine into the previous, but she decided to split the duties so there would never be an internal struggle of one assigned the post. One appointment became two, one to spend, the other to save. For the role of the taxes and income, she chose an obtrusive and extremely frugal man: Grand Wizard Wes of House Bevyl. He, being of a higher rank and nobility status, aided in his easy ascension. With the majority mollified besides her and Daylynn, Wes became her Lord of Coffers.

For the third position, the Steward of Disbursement, whose sole purpose was finding ways to spend the Lord of Coffers saved money, Grand Master Wizard Maryssa of the Joel House seemed the logical choice. Again, the collective groan escaped her male-dominated associates, but Daylynn Reese reveled in their anguish. Even Meristal had to smile at the addition of another female. Still, she chose her because of qualifications, not because she was female.

At first, the council—voiced by Poplu and Capraro—was vehemently against appointing Maryssa because of her minor nobility. However, a minor noble achieving the rank of Grand Master Wizard was near-unprecedented, giving weight to Maryssa’s impeccable qualifications. After doing some digging, Meristal found that only one other appointment occurred ten Ages past. Additionally, rumors circulated that Maryssa was next in line for the rank of Maghai, joining the Circle of Five, but Meristal never found anything to substantiate the tale.

Wherever work beckoned Meristal, the Master of Commerce, the Lord of Coffers, and the Steward of Disbursement followed in her wake, even when she attended council meetings. The exception was a closed session. The beautiful happenstance of the group came by way of their dislike for each other. While they didn’t hate each other, they didn’t get along, making it easier for them to focus on their jobs and keep each other in check. Meristal didn’t need a clique forming within her newly appointed billets.

Master Jynerul Reginald Tyku fidgeted, his walrus mustache rippling across his upper lip. All the men in the room were jyneruls; the highest position within the army rested solely on Tyku’s shoulders. At the War Council, all opinions were considered equal regardless of rank. Meristal’s entourage removed parchment, ink, and quills to take notes. Meristal quickly made introductions and then started the meeting in earnest.

“Where do we stand, gentlemen?”

Tyku took charge of the discussion. “Consul, our current count puts the standing Army at fifty thousand strong.”

“So little?” Meristal blurted, concern crossing her face.

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“No, Madam Consul, that is standard. Those are the men employed as a career. We have an additional one hundred and fifty thousand scabs in our service.”

“Scabs?” inquired Maryssa.

Master Jynerul Tyku cleared his throat. “Forgive me; scabs is a slang term. Conscripts is what I meant. Our standing count is two hundred thousand strong, with over eighty-five percent housed within Ralloc or the surrounding area. Very few are currently deployed afar, except the ten percent taking barracks in the Golden City.”

“Why is there ten percent in Golden City?” the consul queried.

Jynerul Vikal leaned forward to answer. “As per orders of Kayis Dathyr, a standing portion is sent to the Golden City as a workforce for the canal.”

“You mean to tell me that we are using our army as common labor?” Wes gasped. “That’s a waste of manpower.”

“We don’t disagree, but when we receive orders…” Vikal began, rolling his eyes.

“I see.” Meristal lingered in silence for a moment, collecting her thoughts. “Recall them, effective immediately. Tell them to pack up and be ready to mobilize within seventy-two hours.”

“At once, Madam Consul,” Reginald Tyku spoke, a tight smile coming to the corners of his mouth. He looked down at a herald, snapped his fingers and pointed to the door. The messenger leaped from his seat and left with a haste Meristal could only describe as fleeing in terror. “Where would you like them to march?”

“March? They aren’t marching anywhere. Portal Masters are going to port them straight to Cape Gythmel.”

“That would be expensive,” Wes offered.

“How so?”

“Portals cost money to use, a tenth of the army is twenty thousand men, the costs … ” he paused, sliding through leafs of parchment, “ … is two thousand scepters per use for up to ten people. With twenty thousand soldiers ….” He went silent to do the math in his head.

“Son,” Reginald Tyku spoke, “you need to calm down before you pass out. That was ten percent of our standing numbers, not including the sca— uh, conscripts. So, it’s only five thousand personnel.”

“Still!” Wes shrieked.

“Still nothing,” Meristal spoke up. “The cost is what we say it is. The cost of two thousand scepters is for families and businesses. The portal masters are employed by the government; we supply the materials needed, and we pay ridiculous amounts of money to create them. Last I heard, our stock of portal stones flows in overabundance. I think it is time to break open the storeroom and use a few.”

“But the materials for the stones isn’t free,” Wes interjected.

“Then I will gladly pay it from the vault,” Maryssa supplied. Wes said nothing to this but sat, sweating. Meristal snorted to herself, amused, watching him as he undoubtedly counted the dwindling money in his mind.

“That could work,” Meristal nodded in agreement. “We’ll reimburse the cost of the materials so they can create more. Otherwise, they will use their services for the Grand Royal Army. How long until we are mobile in Ralloc?”

Tyku answered, “To mobilize all personnel will take time, but the smaller units can mobilize quicker than the larger ones. Also, I do not recommend mobilizing everyone; that would leave Ralloc defenseless.”

“Agreed.”

“Also, if I may be bold without being impudent,” Jynerul Mecas spoke up for the first time. “I recommend we also send a large force to Dlad City to begin bolstering its defenses for the inevitable attack.”

“That is not certain,” Vikal disagreed.

“We must be prepared for the event, even if it is unlikely,” Mecas countered.

“That would waste time and supplies—”

“Silence,” Tyku commanded. He turned to Meristal. “What is your wish?”

She sent him a warm smile. “I like you already, Master Jynerul. Half of our forces will stay here. We will send battlemages from the Aegis Caste to help the soldiers rush to complete the wall. I would like to send a quarter of our forces to Dlad City and the last quarter on to Cape Gythmel to help fortify the defenses there.”

“It will be done as you say,” Tyku vowed.

“Unless, of course, you have objections or suggestions?” she scanned the jyneruls. Most shifted uncomfortably in their seats but remained quiet. She continued. “As I am sure that you are no doubt aware, I am not Kayis Dathyr. I am quite comfortable in my abilities, and not easily threatened, nor will you hurt my feelings if you possess ideas of your own.” Finding them still tightlipped, she sighed. “If I have thoughtless officers, then I think I will need a new War Council by tomorrow.”

Her words loosened tongues.

They talked strategy and the strategic importance of Cape Gythmel, and most of them thought they were wasting time, energy, and men on a useless outpost that had no real value. When Meristal explained to them Judas’s reasoning for wanting it fortified, they agreed to the proper assessment. Of course, Meristal carefully avoided pointing out that the idea originated from Judas. Losing faith with the men leading their army didn’t seem like a prudent course of action; she didn’t need them doubting her intentions or clarity of mind. The opposite could prove true. Most of them had fought in the Wizard’s War along with Judas, so they fostered a quiet respect for him, but it was a coin toss she wasn’t willing to take at the moment.

A few hours later, the jyneruls left their meeting jovial, and Meristal smiled, her stress reduced.

Wes Bevyl, the Lord of Coffers, looked like he was about to have a stroke.