On the walls below, the wolf mercenaries had mixed with the local southern warriors and spent their time under the midday sun. The smoke from their fires rose into the sky to mix with the smoke Corco could see in the distance. Since his arrival, the smoke was all he had seen of the enemy.
“How many days does that make?” Corco asked.
“Four, boss.” Dedrick replied.
“I don't like it. What is my good uncle doing over there? Where did he get all that patience from? Shouldn't he be rushing us or something?”
“Of course it is impossible for us to know King Pacha's thoughts,” Tama said, sat among the maps of the local area like she always did during their meetings. “However, it is not unreasonable to believe that the central king would have calmed quite a bit after his first proper defeat. Surely, he would also feel a great deal of respect towards King Corco and the united estates of the south.”
“...Pacha? Are you sure we're talking about the same person?” Corco turned to raise a brow at Tama. Her actions were even stranger since he knew from Dedrick that she had argued Corco's very point up until his arrival. Still, he didn't expect her to confront him on this. As predicted, the Spy master switched topics instead.
“Whatever his plans are, at least his plots have given us the time to set up countermeasures for their next storm on the castle walls.”
“True. For now we're stuck here though. How does our food situation look?” Corco frowned.
“Not too bad, in theory,” Dedrick said with a look at his notes. Despite Corco's best efforts, the knight still wrote in his native Arcavian. “Qarasi's got about a year's worth of food-”
A clap from the king interrupted the mercenary captain.
“Great! That's one problem solved then!”
“-but that's before you decided to increase our numbers tenfold.”
Now it was Corco's turn to receive a critical look. Though Dedrick had only been blunt as always, Corco still felt his ears heat up. Rather than look at the captain, he turned to Tama again.
“So that's how much?”
“We have one month's worth of supplies, maybe a bit more.”
“And we can't just go buy more,” Dedrick added. After a thorough sigh and head-scratch, Corco turned back to the smoke in the distance, Tama's voice in his back.
“Now the war has begun, and no one in the Central Kingdom will trade with us. King Pacha has effectively closed off the northern border. Although no proper bans have been sanctioned by the Triumvirate Meeting, no supplies can travel between the north and the south for now. Not only will it be harder to make other lords sell grain to us, even if we do, King Pacha can raid our supplies and pretend they were lost to roaming bandits. He controls the border with his army, so who would know otherwise?”
“Not a problem,” Corco beamed. “Did you forget about our outstanding harvest? With all the extra food we've made over the last fall, we can easily feed our troops. I'm much more worried about something else.”
“...you're not gonna say you're worried about the commoners, are you?” Dedrick said. Before his arrival, he and Tama had locked horns several times over that very issue. This Corco had heard too.
“If we can't feed the people, they'll starve. We will need a lot of food for some more... advanced plans in the near future.” A shallow smile crept onto Corco's face.
“So just let the commoners starve a bit. My soldiers need to eat and the peasants are used to harsh times.” Tension entered Dedrick's voice as he repeated the same argument again.
“Even though you're a smart guy, sometimes you're an idiot,” Corco said as he turned back to his staff in the room. “Starvation is the number one reason for revolt, anywhere and anytime. If we don't want to destabilize the entire south, we can't afford a famine. The southern Kingdom is already under threat of division now that Epunamo has worked with the northerners. No reason to make things worse.”
“Right.” A deep sigh showed Dedrick's capitulation. “We've discussed all of this before either way. Isn't that the reason we sent off the captain to get some more food from the north? What more do you want from me?” Mouth open, Dedrick raised his hands in mock-surrender.
“...maybe a bit of earnestness would not go awry,” Tama mumbled.
“Stop!” Corco rushed in between the two contestants. Already Tama had gotten up from her seat while Dedrick had made his first step forward. If the king didn't step in now, they might have their next division here, in this very room. “The last thing we need right now is internal conflict. Can you at least pretend to be reasonable until the enemy army is not within eyeshot?”
Corco looked out of the window again. The smoke had lessened, which meant that the enemy's lunchtime was over. Not that it would change much. At this point, no one expected another attack from Pacha.
“Look, none of this is a huge problem. In fact, this is more of a chance than anything. We already have a surplus of food, and Atau is off to improve that further. This way, we can sell cheap grain to the other lords once they start to run out. What happens then you ask? They will no longer be reliant on imports from the north. Instead, they will become reliant on imports from us. If everything goes to plan, we can integrate the entire south into our trade network over the course of this war.”
This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.
“However, we will not have the harvest necessary to supply the entire south,” Tama said. “Although our per-person production of grain and rice has been impressive, Saniya's population is as lacking as its arable land.”
“With some extra time, we can solve those problems. Better tools and fertilizers, and mass immigration from other parts of the kingdom. You'll see, soon we won't know what to do with all the food. For now though, we will have to make do with the next best thing. As long as my cousin manages to fulfill his mission, we can stem the tide until the next harvest, and then focus on long-term solutions.”
For the first time during their talks, Corco looked not south to his people or north to Pacha. Instead he looked east, past the mountains and towards the sea.
“Let's hope for the best,” Dedrick's dreary voice rang out behind him.
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Although Brym had only stayed away for a short while, the face of Porcero had changed completely. Although the harbor still consisted of the old, wooden planks from before, they had been scrubbed clean of the barnacles, algae and salt crusts. Now they shined like amber in the radiance of the sea water. Before Brym had returned from the capital, they had begun to set up the new crane system. Now, the complex amalgamation of pulleys and levers helped their men load the newest supplies onto the ships.
“That all of it, isn't it?” Brym turned to find the owner of the voice, Captain Atau di Pluritac, beside him. Of course, the merchant offered his signature smile, though it had an awkward slant.
“Yes, captain, that would be everything. Although we planned to purchase far more basic foodstuffs, this is about the best I can do on such short notice. I am very sorry for this inconvenience.”
This was the very reason for Brym's awkwardness. After the ghost warriors had escorted him away from Pacha's troops and back north, he had first led some negotiations with King Amautu's people. Once he had concluded a proper deal, behind closed doors of course, he had spent all his time in a mad rush through northern and eastern Medala. All this in an effort to assemble enough wheat and rice for the south's winter. Although they had plenty of money, and even more luxury goods to barter with, their lack of farmland was their greatest weakness for now.
“It's not too bad, I'd say. That's what, about eight hundred tons all in all, right? You did well, kid.” The captain slapped his shoulder, and Brym forced his knees to stiffen so he wouldn't buckle under the force. After all these years, the young merchant really hoped the Captain wouldn't treat him like a child any longer.
“Indeed.” He withdrew a step and Atau's paw left his shoulder to swing through the air like the ropes on the crane did above his head. “However, it is not even enough to feed half our ships. In any other year, we could have acquired much, much more. Over the last summer, the weather has been exceedingly hot throughout northern Medala.”
“South too,” Atau added.
“True. Though the usual weather in the north is already perfect for agriculture. As a result of the heat wave, eastern Medala has been hit with a heavy drought and the estates haven't been blessed with a good harvest. Worse, now that war is upon us, most lords have begun to hoard food, to either use in an emergency or sell to the highest bidder at a later time. Even with our outstanding connections in the region and with King Amautu's support, the lords weren't willing to part with too much of their stock.”
“Should still be enough to tide us over for a while. You can just keep buying more from farther away, maybe even go into the north. While you do that, we sail south and deliver the first batch. By the time we're back, you might already wait here with the second one, heavens allow.”
Brym decided to ignore the captain's final remark. Even before he had begun to travel with Arcavians, the young Brymstock had never been the most religious.
“Yes. So far King Amautu has been very accommodating, so our plans appear quite solid. No matter what King Pacha plans, he will not find success with a starvation strategy.”
“I dunno, I always have a weird feeling about what's gonna happen.” Although Brym always had the courtesy to focus on the partner of his conversation, very few would have this kind of earnestness towards their neighbors. In this case, the captain put on a grumpy frown as he stared out into the waves.
“Those priests again?” Brym mirrored the frown, unseen by the captain. Although a dismissive attitude was poison for any business transaction, the merchant allowed himself a weakness, overwhelmed by Atau's superstition. When they had first reunited a few days ago, Atau had told Brym of his meeting with a traveling Pacha priest. When they had crossed the hills and got ready to board the ships at Port Ulta, the captain had visited a shrine to pray for a safe journey. During that time, one of the seers had visited him and offered his services. This seemed to be a special event, rarely seen, though Brym didn't understand anything about it.
Either way, the seer had informed Atau that the stars told of a storm that brewed in the east, and of rough seas on their journey. Ever since then, the captain had been in a gloomy mood. Even worse since Atau made for an excellent drinking buddy. Those priests really ruined Brym's fun over the past few days.
“Don't underestimate the wisdom of the stars,” the captain's eyes glanced down and to the side. “Although Corco knows a lot, he's still just some guy. What is one person in the face of eternal starlight? Don't forget that all of our knowledge is limited, and there are forces far beyond our understanding and control in the world.”
“As expected of a Pacha faithful.” Brym remained diplomatic and swallowed all his vitriol before it could reach his voice.
“More like: as expected of a ship's captain.” At last Atau's head turned back to Brym, and a bit of a smile returned to his face. “Don't make a mistake, I don't care too much for the priests, but a few months on the high seas changes your perspective on things. There are many forces we will never be able to control, that's something you learn during your first storm on the open sea... Even more so when you're responsible for your own people.”
The mood dimmed, Atau marched towards his well-fed ships. Since they were ready to return south as soon as possible, the captain's crew was already on board. When they reached the gangway, Brym tried one last time to ease his friend's mind.
“Well, in this one case your gods might as well be wrong. Some good luck is long overdue for us.”
“Yeah, well, get ready for emergencies anyways, just in case.”
With a forced smile that looked no different from his most casual one, Brym offered Atau a firm handshake.
“Goodbye and godspeed, Captain Atau.”
“Yeah, see you soon.”
With worry all over his face, the superstitious captain marched up the wooden plank. Although Brym himself had been optimistic all this time, the more he thought about their fragile position, the more he understood the danger they were in, and the more his stomach began to growl. With a frown of his own, he smothered his worry under a layer of pragmatism. No matter what would meet the captain at sea, they had no way to prevent it. But preparation was always the next best thing to prevention, and prepare he always could.