Arkk strode through the halls of the former Duke’s manor. Everywhere he stepped, it looked like a war had been fought. Blood stained the floor, discarded weapons and armor sat in corners of rooms, and every now and again, he passed by a body that had yet to be dragged out with the others.
All in all, a war hadn’t been fought. Most of the casualties of the operation were confined to the manor since it had been staffed with those most loyal to the Duke. Between some carefully targeted personnel at the garrison and the average soldier being less-than-willing to attack the citizens of the Duchy that they were meant to protect, and the general discontent with the Duke following what was seen as a surrender to Evestani among the army, the coup had come off with surprisingly little bloodshed.
“The Abbey of the Light is cowering within their church,” Lexa said, walking alongside him as she gave him a report on all the important bits of the coup. “A few low-ranked people came out to heal and extinguish fires but all the leadership and inquisitors are hiding away.”
He wasn’t sure what to do about them. The Abbey was, effectively, his enemy. It was they who convinced the Duke to ally with Evestani against him.
“From asking around,” Lexa continued, “subtly, of course. The public views them in a positive light. They came out to help the people, as little as they did, and that’s made them an ally of this coup.”
“Unfortunate,” Arkk said. He would have loved to have an excuse to get rid of them. He doubted Katja wanted to keep them around either. Then again, perhaps it was better to keep them around where he could see them.
Astra was ostensibly helping keep an eye on them, but she wouldn’t be around for long. The crux of her agreement to help him hinged on him keeping his focus on the Golden Order. That golden-eyed avatar possessing children to use in his army had personally upset Astra to the point where she was willing to set aside just about everything else to take him down.
Even if it meant working with a heretic.
She was to feel out a few of the other prominent members of the Abbey to see if anyone else was of similar thought. Then she was going to travel to Chernlock.
And wasn’t that a whole other issue.
The situation was complicated beyond Arkk’s understanding. In part because he didn’t have all of the facts but also because matters of kings and nations weren’t something farmboys like him were typically educated in. Even all the books he had read in his youth hadn’t touched on matters of succession or coups.
The Duke had initially requested help from Chernlock in repelling the Evestani invaders. The King had mustered his army and sent them north to the Duchy, only for the alliance with Evestani to be announced. Per Hawkwood’s reports, the King’s army had been stopped at the border and denied entry with the Duke’s guard claiming they had everything under control and no longer needed reinforcements.
But the pressure for the alliance came from the Abbey, which was headquartered down in Chernlock in the same city where the King resided. Wouldn’t the army have just supported the Duke and Evestani against Fortress Al-Mir?
There was miscommunication somewhere. Or disagreements. Arkk wasn’t sure which.
With Katja taking over here and having access to the Duke’s notes and whatever advisors hadn’t fled in the night, he hoped he would get a better grasp on the situation soon. For now…
“Where is Katja anyway?” Arkk asked. “I expected her to meet with me.”
“Offering a performative speech to those who ‘rescued’ her from the garrison,” Lexa said, complete with wiggling her fingers around the word. “She earned goodwill and loyalty through ensuring people’s needs were met. Can’t just go lock herself in the manor and become a despot overnight, can she?”
“I would prefer if she didn’t become a despot at all.”
Arkk was fully prepared to use the resources and magic of Fortress Al-Mir to prop her up. But there was much unknown about this situation as well.
The current goal was to consolidate. Give anyone who wouldn’t support Katja the boot while installing her men throughout positions of power. The King probably wouldn’t take kindly to her coup no matter the situation around it but if they painted the Duke as a traitor to the crown and managed to get the support of most of the population, having her beheaded would hopefully be a little more troublesome. Especially if the King thought the Duchy as a whole would immediately revolt.
Of course, if the King and the rest of the Kingdom were in full alliance with Evestani, no amount of sugared words or guile would spare them.
Lexa led him up through the manor and to a large room with wide-open glass windows looking out onto a grand balcony.
Katja stood outside, dressed in plain clothes with very little styling to her hair. The hulking form of Horrik stood at her back with his arms crossed over his chest.
Pausing well away from the windows—nobody was supposed to know of his presence here as he would prefer if any link between him and Katja were kept silent—Arkk watched and waited, listening to Katja’s speech while she spread her arms in grand gesticulation.
“I stand before you today as a liberator. The tides of change have swept through our lands and now a new dawn has risen. Let us cast aside the shackles of our past and embrace this new dawn for what it can be.
“I understand many might be apprehensive, having witnessed the swift downfall of the former Duke. Our illustrious Duke once resided here, throwing lavish parties, surrounded by opulence. But if you look and ask yourself what he offered you in exchange for his relaxed life, you’ll find nothing more than empty promises and broken trust, heavy taxes, and a blind eye to the people of the land in favor of those with wealth and power that he could use.
“Promises, trust, and the will of the people will have to be something worked on over time. However, I can speak on the topic of taxes today to give you something to look forward to. Effective immediately, taxes will be reduced to a mere ten percent for the next five years. The people have suffered enough with the war and the displacement it has caused. I will take no more than it requires to maintain a strong army.
“My methods may seem unorthodox and strange. Desperate times call for bold action. I will craft this realm into a society that can thrive. The invaders will be expunged. There will be food and shelter aplenty. In the months to come, you will witness—No, you will be the transformation of this land into one of prosperity.
“Together, we shall build a community of unprecedented change. May fortune favor us on this journey toward a brighter future.”
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Katja remained at the window for a short time longer, making sure she was seen by all the crowd who had gathered. Eventually, with parting waves, she retreated back into the manor. Horrik followed, closing the glass doors behind them.
“Nice speech,” Arkk said. He nodded toward the window. “How much of that did you mean?”
The bandit lord shrugged her shoulders, cracking her neck back and forth. “Let me put it this way: I’ve already been reaching out to all the wealthy merchants and nobles, assuring them that their lavish lives won’t need to change in the slightest.
“Oh don’t give me that look,” Katja said, fingers finding her elbows as she crossed her arms and leaned against the desk. “As the Bandit Lord of Porcupine Hill, I learned well how things work. Especially once I started bringing Moonshine Burg around to my way of thinking. Every ruling structure has its key figures. The ones who can get things done. Some might be merchants with able laborers, some might know the secrets of the state, and others will simply be those whom others use as examples for direction and inspiration. The mass of people doesn’t matter half as much as keeping those key people happy. Offer the masses some useless platitudes to keep them quiet while we focus on those who can actually help.”
Arkk let out a small sigh, wondering if this hadn’t been a foolish decision. He could have had Ilya or even Alya take Katja’s place in this coup. Much as he was upset with the elder elf, at least she wasn’t… a bandit.
But Katja had the people and, as she said, the experience. And it got her out of Fortress Al-Mir, which was another positive of the situation.
If worse came to worst, he could always remove her. Probably a whole lot easier than they had gotten rid of the Duke.
“Don’t worry so much. Unless I turn actively malicious, I doubt I can possibly be worse than our dear, departed Duke.”
“You have a point there,” Arkk admitted. “I couldn’t help but notice a lack of cheering or excitement outside the window. You got a rise when you mentioned taxes but not much else.”
Katja scoffed. She looked back to Horrik with a raised eyebrow before shaking her head. “There were supposed to be some of my men in the crowd, ready to rouse the rabbles at the right moments. I think most were too drunk to show up. As for the rest of the people…” She trailed off with a small laugh. “I doubt half of them knew they were participating in a coup. They thought they were freeing poor Katja from the garrison prison. Waking up to find the Duke is dead and someone new is standing in his place is probably a shock to most.”
“Is that going to be a problem?”
“Hardly. I’ll make sure I make a few visits around the refugee camps and elsewhere in the city, delivering supplies just like normal.” She shifted off the desk, sauntering through the room while miming handing out a blanket. “‘What am I doing here? Oh silly me. I could have other people delivering supplies these days. I didn’t want this position, you know. I just want to see joy on people’s faces.’ They’ll eat it up,” she said, dropping the act. “Word will spread and people will be content.
“There are two real problems. Evestani and Chernlock.”
“Unless the latter starts a war, I’ll leave them to you,” Arkk said. “Try to appease them? Cooperate or whatever it takes. We don’t need another faction in this war. As for Evestani… I acquired a magical artifact while you’ve been gone. I need men, however. Spellcasters especially.”
“I don’t know that my men will be all too enthused with that idea after what happened last time.”
“Look. That guy had very clear instructions to not move and he did the one thing he wasn’t supposed to do. I’m not sure what else…” Arkk stopped, shaking his head back and forth. “It doesn’t matter. I’ve already reached out to Hawkwood and he’s willing to lend his support but he doesn’t have many quality casters in White Company. The Duke’s guard, on the other hand, does. As does the academy here, if all the casters haven’t been drafted into the guard.”
“Ah. That might be a problem,” Katja said with a put-upon sigh. “I’m not a miracle worker. While, thanks to some key… adjustments of the personnel in charge, the local garrison is willing to work with me, the armies afar likely don’t even know that the Duke is dead. Convincing them to follow my lead isn’t going to be something that happens overnight. If at all. And they’re the ones with the spellcasters.
“All I can guarantee is that anyone who doesn’t fall in line will not receive any support from Cliff,” Katja said as a grin spread across her face. “The supply lines are effectively cut off unless they bow to me. I imagine most will want to eat. What’s exchanging one leader they’ve never met for another? Those who do not bow… might be open to alternate sources of employment.”
“More deserters with Company Al-Mir,” Arkk said, understanding her euphemisms. “I can work with that.”
“Shortly, I’ll be sending out a flock of Swiftwing harpies to inform the various divisions of the Grand Guard of the change in circumstances.”
“Wouldn’t you be able to direct them as normal using the Duke’s signet ring to stamp the messages?”
Katja dipped her head. “I considered that. I decided honesty was the best way to prevent an uprising when they find out they’ve been deceived. Unless you have a better plan for the guard that needs immediate action?”
Arkk considered for a long few moments. Between Hawkwood’s men, the deserters he had already gathered up, and the armies of the Duke, there was a lot he thought he could get done with regard to Evestani. The Walking Fortress, currently under construction, would only add to that once it finished. The Heart of Gold’s avatar was a problem but, presumably, couldn’t be everywhere at once or use his abilities with any resounding frequency.
There were short-term benefits to be gained from usurping control of everything as soon as possible.
Long term, they had to stop and think. Katja was right about the armies likely turning on her if they found out they had been following an impostor. It was hard to see right now but there was presumably life after war that needed to be taken into consideration.
Then again, the last war with Evestani had lasted for over a decade, waxing and waning at times but never quite ending. Arkk had this image in mind that the war would end if he just defeated the golden avatar and forced the armies out of the Duchy but…
How realistic was that vision? Even without the avatar, the war had started. Land had been taken. People had died. Those who lived wanted revenge. Even on Evestani’s side, they would see the deaths of their comrades and use those as motivation, making them martyrs of the Golden Order.
Perhaps planting the Walking Fortress in whatever was left of Moonshine Burg would cut off the two nations effectively enough to force a cessation of combat. Even then…
There was too much uncertainty in the future.
Did that warrant the safe approach that Katja was advocating for? Or a more aggressive approach?
There was also the King to consider. Deposing the Duke was damning enough. Falsifying documents and usurping the armies when control should rightfully revert to the King wouldn’t help matters.
Arkk didn’t know the first thing about the King. His name was Abe Lafoar. He ruled from the Bastion City, a star-shaped fortification nestled between three lakes, all of which sat in the middle of a desert. Everything beyond that was a mystery to Arkk. Most villagers of the Duchy probably knew of the Duke, if only tangentially, and likely knew of the King. But where they paid taxes to the Duke, the King was so distant and immaterial to their daily lives that there was just no need to know anything about him.
That needed to change.
A knock at the door broke Arkk out of his thoughts. He turned to find one of Katja’s men standing at the door he and Lexa had left open. As with most of Katja’s men, Arkk hadn’t committed the man’s name to memory, unfortunately. He was still a little put-off about going from knowing the names of every single member of Company Al-Mir to knowing a mere fraction of them.
“Sorry to bother you, Kat, but—”
“Lady Katja, please,” Katja said. “We must maintain appearances.”
“Lady Katja,” the bandit repeated in a slightly sarcastic tone. “Some bishop from the Abbey is here.”
“A bishop? What does he want?”
“To talk?” the bandit said with a shrug. “He has a guard with him. One of those inquisitorial types. No sign of their purifiers though.”
Katja let out a long hum. “I suppose that is a good sign.”
“I can’t be seen here,” Arkk said. They wanted to maintain the fiction that this little uprising had nothing to do with him. To do that, he would have to limit his interactions with Katja. But, while he was here, he paused and looked at the woman with the striped tattoos. “I’m not going to order you around or tell you what to do. Send the Swiftwings to inform the army if you wish.”
Katja smiled and dipped her head. “I appreciate that. I’ll send one of the Swiftwings with you as well. I know you’ve been wanting a harpy in your employ and it will be good for letting you know when I need fresh supplies.”
Arkk wasn’t sure how much he needed a harpy now that Priscilla was at Fortress Al-Mir. Someone who could actually see what they were scouting would be nice but the fairy backpack had worked well enough.
Still, he didn’t argue. He accepted the gesture with gracious thanks.
As Katja had said earlier, there were certain key people needed to keep things running. It was important to keep those people happy and content.
Katja just happened to be one of his key people now.