In the distance, the evening sky colored the village in a fiery red, just as the flames within the village walls colored the sky. Puma looked down the tree he had climbed and took a firmer stance on his branch, before he focused his eyes. His eagle-eyes enlarged the image and allowed him to miss no detail of the army's 'procurement'.
The worst of it had happened around the town hall. As the place to store the wheat of the city, it had become the first target for the warriors. Nothing but a burned out ruin now, the smolder of the charcoal pillars revealed the recency of the destruction. However, all people had emptied the place as much as the grain and silver had. While the village's wealth had disappeared into the pockets of the warriors, the people had been strewn all over the alleys of the town. Down in the dirt of the unpaved roads, Puma could hear the desperate screams of women and the last calls of men, as central kingdom's warrior's cackled like hyenas ready to digest a carcass.
All the while, the silvery capes of King Pacha's personal guard marched around and commandeered the beasts. Under their instructions, the chaotic monsters turned into an army of malice. With a frown, Puma observed the groups of refugees who had already left their village behind and now rushed south, towards the capital, where they would find their master and lord. Of course these atrocities had been caused by the warriors who had sworn to protect them, but what other choice did they have but blind trust in their master?
Puma left his outlook and rushed south, always just out of sight of the villagers. In their march, the people were always shadowed by warriors, be they King Pacha's or some other lord's. From time to time, some warriors picked out a few more commoners to relieve their boredom with, infected by the evil around them. Thus, in the process of their penance, the farmers lost more and more of their numbers. Once these people joined the rest of the masses, who would notice a few absentees anyways? Soon they were part of a massive stream of refugees, from villages all over Lord Makipura's lands. By the time Puma had reached the capital, the refugees had turned into hungry, exhausted, terrified piles of misery.
This was no 'procurement', as King Pacha had called it. This was a slow, methodical deconstruction of Kichiapa. Convinced that he had seen everything he needed, Puma rounded the town and picked up speed. Soon he would reach the Narrows, and the king's action camp.
----------------------------------------
“Another one, is it?” Lord Makipura sighed.
“Yes indeed, master.”
Once Puma stood in front of his lord, his scrunched up heart eased only the slightest bit. At least from his master's cramped posture and his sour face, the scout could tell none of the atrocities had been committed in his will.
“Usurper bastard!” Not even his always calm master could retain his mind. With a scream to remind of his younger years, Lord Makipura threw his chair across the tent. Without a word, Puma walked over and picked it back up, while his master's anger broke way. “What 'procurement'? Is this little shit not trying to destroy this lord's entire land? Maybe he believes he could take over once my lord's estate falls apart? He wouldn't even let the people stay in the capital and forced them all down here! Who will work my fields in the spring? Will those puffed up silver knights do it?”
“Master, the walls have ears,” Puma said and tapped the tent lining.
“Let them have whatever they want. Ever since he was beaten half to death by his elder brother, that brat hasn't received a good lesson. It shows. In fact,” Lord Makipura stood up with an energy the scout hadn't seen from his old lord in at least a decade. “Let's go over right away and teach him one in manners. This cannot go on or my entire lands will be bled dry.”
Thus, lord and master marched out of the tent. Through the boisterous masses of warriors from all over the central kingdom, like pigs in a sty. In their inebriation, these fools even failed to greet, no, failed to notice the righteous ruler of the lands they had destroyed with their greed and excess. Like the beasts they were, they rolled around in mud, barely conscious to their lowly actions.
This sort of picture repeated through all parts of the camp, all the way to the central command tent of King Pacha. Although Puma had expected the spoiled king to act in the same way as his uncouth men, he was surprised to find Pacha sit upright in his proper place. Clear eyes ran over a message written on bamboo, held in his one good hand. Meanwhile, the lords close to the king stood at attention, together with the king's silver guards.
“Lord Makipura greets King Pacha,” his lord said. While a ruler could afford to only hint at a bow, Puma himself had to show deference. Like a good servant, he had to bow low, to show the king's superiority as a member of a higher class.
“Ah, Lord Makipura. You have come just at the right time,” Pacha said, a dangerous glint in his eyes.
“The right time for what would that be, this lord wonders? Is it time to finally strike a final blow against this lord's lands?”
At the unexpected insubordination, King Pacha's smile froze. The cold from deep within his soul spread on his face, then throughout the room and finally gripped Puma's heart. When had his master ever been this bold and opposed someone of King Pacha's status?
“Is there something Lord Makipura has to complain about?”
Although he heard his lord swallow, although he could see his hands shake, half-hidden by his long robes, his master still stepped up to confront the unpredictable beast of a hero.
Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.
“How could one's ally, one's king, treat this lord's lands like he has? Thousands of servants have been killed, tens of thousands have been displaced. Now they are herded like sheep to this camp, and for what? To starve to death? To be slaughtered as entertainment for the king's men? We cannot feed them here, not after King Pacha's armies have plundered half the food of this lord's land. Does king intend to lose this lord's support?”
Although the lord's words were a bit of an exaggeration, they weren't too far off the truth. Actually, Kichiapa was an exceedingly rich land and produced a great wealth of grain every year. However, like a whale that sucked up all the water, the constant raids by King Pacha's commandos had really sucked the land dry. Now there was little left to support the people through winter. Even though he had systematically destroyed the lord's lands, Pacha remained calm, his eyes still cold, his voice even colder.
“Why would some lowly servant dare oppose this king? Your lands? This king has been put in charge of these lands, how can they belong to any other?”
As soon as the king challenged the status of a lord, mumbles broke out all across the room. Even the slow peacock king realized that he had made a mistake. As he looked around, his face thawed the smallest bit.
“Either way, none of it matters. Whether the lands are yours or not, the armies of the center need food, they need supplies. Even more, we need a method to win the war, and soon, before the southern dogs can come up with more cheap tricks to extend their worthless lives. To achieve peace within Medala and unite the lands under our banners, we need to make sacrifices. Be assured that the tributes will be repaid in full, but only to those who remain loyal. All who disobey shall feel the full force of Medala's combined forces!”
“This lord would never dare to oppose the king,” Lord Makipura said in a low voice, his hands now shaking more from anger than from fear. “However, sacrifice without purpose helps no one. If the lands dry up, how could they continue to serve the king and his army? Where is the sense in displacing the commoners when spring is right around the corner?”
“You seem unconvinced. In that case, this king will give you a taste of his great tactical genius. Soon you will see that all who stand with the great King Pachacutec will revel in riches, and all who stand against him will wallow in rags. Warriors!”
“Yes, great King Pachacutec!” The king's warriors stood and spoke in unison, as if they had practiced this very motion. They probably had.
“Go round up the commoners outside the city. It is time for another storm onto that fake king's castle. Let us find out together just how much steel the south has to fire away.”
By now, the king's cold smile had returned in full strength. No matter what his plan was, Puma felt like Kichiapa would be the loser in the battle.
----------------------------------------
For Puma, this was a familiar position. From the command hill south of the camp, they could overlook the entire battlefield. In the distance, the imposing silhouette of Qarasi Castle stood illuminated by the sun, like a beacon to the south's stubborn nature.
Many times, they had clashed against the walls like waves against a cliff, with no success. Before long the king had gotten careful and only attempted simple, probing attacks with small, focused teams of warriors. However, this time was different. A giant sea of men stretched out between him and the castle. Even so, many of them were no warriors. Rather than the red and silver of the warrior class, he saw far more brown and gray, the humble colors of the commoners.
“Madness,” he could hear his master whisper. Puma had to agree. The king's plan was nothing short of insane. What sort of king would sacrifice his own subjects, send them against an enemy to waste their ammunition? Still, there was no reason for failure with this plan. It was just not a strategy any sane monarch would attempt.
Powerless, Puma and his master watched as the commoners were driven towards the castle by warriors from the back. From what his people told Puma, the king had promised the commoners riches and freedom if they managed to storm the castle, even ten stones of silver if they brought him the head of the King of the South. However, whoever dared run away from the walls would be marked a traitor to the crown, and would revoke their right to live.
Cold and starving, with no choice left but a desperate struggle ahead, the commoners charged the southern barrier. At first the plan seemed like a success. As they charged, they forced the castle into activity. Soon, he heard the now-familiar bang of muskets from the walls. In the face of the mass of commoners, the fire was even more concentrated. Rather than individual shots, the enemy fired in volleys. Right away, the first row of commoners fell as if they had run into a solid wall of iron. Whoever hadn't died from the attack would pretend to.
Meanwhile, all who were still on their feet slowed their progress.
“Lazy bastards! Die for your king or die against him!”
Behind them, the king's guards began to swing around their axes and mow down all who dared slow their steps. Soon, the desperate commoners ran again. With no way forward and no way back, they were like trapped deer, in panicked search for an exit. And then, like a miracle, they were presented one.
From high atop the castle. Puma's excellent eyes spotted a giant cone stretch out over the balustrade. The metal shone in the sunlight like a brilliant beacon, and that was just what it would be for the commoners.
“Run past the sides and be spared!” All across the battlefield rang a strange voice. Although the metal cone distorted the sound, the message was still clear. If one paid attention, it was easy to see that the guns of the defenders were aimed at the center of the formation, while the sides were mostly safe. Soon, various portions of the crowd began to stir. They still ran away from their pursuers behind, but they no longer rushed the castle in a straight line. Instead, they had begun to round the castle from both sides.
“Master, there seem to be unusual activity within the commoners to direct their actions.”
“Is it King Pacha's men?” Lord Makipura asked.
“No, most likely, they are King Corco's. They must have sneaked into the refugees to manipulate them at a crucial moment”
“In that case, let them work.”
Although he always stood by his master's side, insubordination against the king still felt wrong. Doing nothing was sometimes the hardest task a servant could have.
When the king's warriors realized what Corco's spies had planned, it was already too late. As the first of the guards fell from the castle's fire, the rest retreated and left the commoner to their own fate. Without another choice, they had to watch as the commoners crossed the border from the central kingdom to the southern. This entire war had started because King Corco had tried to populate his lands with new people from the north. Now, King Pacha had gifted his nephew with several thousand immigrants in one fell swoop.