Kyant, official Second Counselor to the Great Sovereign of Vathary, King Neydon, was having an excellent morning. The king was busy supervising the preparation of his stable of race horses for the afternoon's races, so he wouldn't be calling for Kyant anytime soon.

Even better, a fresh batch of financial reports had come in from the seven cities of the kingdom, so Kyant had a whole morning, afternoon, and evening planned of sitting in the castle's kitchen by the big fire, sipping the endless cups of tea the kitchen staff provided, while reading page after page of tax and tariff collections, the city workers' pay, the public works spending, and what remained of the cities' approved budgets. He would be able to reconcile this to the separate amounts reported in the treasuries, compare it to his projections, and order audits wherever there was a discrepancy. It was really far more fun than a human should be legally allowed to have.

His plans for the day were cruelly thwarted when he noticed his fellow counselor, Dravon, walking quickly past the palace kitchen in the direction of the Royal Stables. Dravon carried a set of scrolls, which was odd as he had not brought any recent message to Kyant.

Kyant suspected Dravon's destination, and to whom he was going to talk, and had a prediction for the subject of the talk. Kyant knew he should be there, as last time Dravon had an hour alone with the king, an arrest warrant had been issued for a loyal noble in an important borderland territory, with the accusation based on nothing but rumors. Rumors Kyant himself found borderline ridiculous.

Kyant then reluctantly gathered up his beloved reports, locked them in his office, and did a rather undignified speed walk down to the stables.

As expected, the First Counselor Dravon had lured King Neydon away from the horses, and into the tack room of the stables. Dravon had a scroll he'd unrolled and was reading a report to the king.

Dravon’s short dark hair was in a state of disarray, as it so often was. Kyant wondered why the king listened to Dravon. Kyant was a former army officer, so felt to his core that anybody with messy hair should not be taken seriously.

"What we know so far, my king, is that Pelsa sprung a trap, using a hundred monsters and fell beasts, which descended upon the brave soldiers of Vathary. We think Sir Bowen and Sir Hargest were taken hostage, perhaps with a few others. Most were not so lucky though. Eighteen soldiers of the Royal Army were eaten raw, and two further men were fried and made into sandwiches for the monsters to consume for lunch the next day!" Counselor Dravon paused his reading and shuddered.

"This was despite Sir Bowen having entered under a flag of truce and having asked the Pelsa border guards for diplomatic passage, which the treacherous monsters agreed. It turns out that they were using that promise only to lure the men from Vathary farther into Pelsa, so that they could fall on them in a sudden ambush."

"The trap was sprung by two old orcish hags wielding demonic powers, one riding an ancient, scarred wyrm who incinerated the front row with fires from the depths of hell. The men had thought they'd been granted diplomatic passage, and had pulled back the scouts. They were thus unaware and unsuspecting of the approaching horde. We have reports that Rassler rode in after the battle, an honored guest or possibly a co-conspirator, to ascertain that the Pelsa horde had done his will."

The king had been listening while selecting the bridles and saddles for his horses that were to race that afternoon. He noticed Kyant had arrived and turned toward the second counselor, a general look of annoyance on his face.

"So, Counselor Kyant, what think you of this unfortunate event, and how do you advise we should best take revenge? And given that it is you, I'm sure you will want to do it inexpensively."

Kyant had not had much success in convincing Neydon of anything recently, a few budgeting issues aside. Kyant decided to give it another try though.

"Well, sire. I suspect there may be more to the story. We should not rely on this one report, of which I do not know the origin. Relations have been good with Pelsa for years now. There were no increasing tensions, just increasing trade, and increasing tax revenues from that trade. We've even had visitors, just ‘sight seeing,’ crossing the border both ways, without problems. So, I would ask if we could talk directly to a selection of the men involved, and to Sir Bowen when we secure his release. We could bring them here tell their tale in front of us all."

As the king turned his back and went back to preparing the gear, Dravon spoke directly and loudly to his fellow counselor.

"Kyant, but you have always been so naive! You insist on seeing only the good in people, so deny that Pelsa is, at its heart, a collection of monsters ruled by witches and warlocks. They have only a veneer of civilization, the thinnest veneer! This event shows their true colors. We need to issue a warning, and prepare a force to get our men back, if any still live."

Dravon turned back to the king and indicated a section of the scroll. "If you might look, sire, I have here the ransom demands. They bit off one of the guardsmen's arms, and chewed it up in front of him, but left him another arm to carry their demands back to us."

"Demands?" the king looked back at Dravon with the sides of his eyes. "What do the monsters 'demand' from Vathary for our own men, captured in diplomatic service?"

"They ask for five thousand gold sovereigns for Sir Bowen, four thousand for Sir Hargest, and one thousand for the wizard, Mostyn. Plus a hundred gold for each of the soldiers who remain alive in their dungeons. It is unclear how many are still alive and how many have been eaten. They also say the men will be tortured daily until we pay."

"Those demands are outrageous,” replied the king. “Okay, maybe reasonable for Bowen, given his lands. On the high side, perhaps. Hargest is a younger son, with no lands and, between us all here, no real prospects of any. I might pay three hundred, but any more is absurd. Let them keep the men. Even Bowen. Honestly, he is annoying, and he failed me on this mission."

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

Kyant was horrified on many levels, but tried to say what he could to salvage something. "Your Highness, I really might advise that we should make an attempt to get Bowen, Hargest and the other men back. If we don't, it will reduce morale in the military. After they are given a couple of days, and if I spoke with them directly, the leaders of Pelsa may see this isn't a sensible path for them and be more reasonable. If I might be permitted to travel there and speak with …"

The king cut off Kyant. "Really Counselor Kyant? You once served the army and then this kingdom well, and I admit you have a better understanding of our taxes and expenses than I do. However, I too have really found you hopelessly naive. You attribute human emotions and decency to a veritable herd of beasts. Cannot you see that their primitive minds are working as hard as they can to mock us here in the civilized realms?"

Dravon nodded vigorously. "We really must deal with them, sire. Their ambition only grows. They now style their primitive tribal positions and their bastard warlord as 'king' and the most vile elf witch as 'queen'. They name a fire-breathing and man-eating dragon a 'duke'. It shows they think themselves the equal of the human kingdoms of the civilized lands. And if they think themselves our equal, we all know that the next thought in their warlord Jend's head, assuming he is capable of complex thought, is to expand his kingdom south and finally get decent farming land. I'm sure he spreads his lies throughout his tribal lands, and perhaps his whispers are even what led to the issues and disloyalty in Flai Drary. He may have been courting Rassler to support his ambitions for some time. I don't think it is any surprise that Rassler fled to Jend for safety. Rassler must be part of Jend's conspiracy!"

"Conspiracy? What conspiracy?" Kyant said. "I doubt they'd even spoken. Rassler was just running for his life after we sent soldiers to arrest him. Going north was probably his only option. I can't think of another that he had."

Dravon squared up opposite Kyant and pointed at him, his finger just a few inches from Kyant’s nose. "Again, Kyant, you just betray your naiveté. It is painful for me to watch you deny the obvious. Our king must know of these plots against him!"

The king shook his head. "Indeed, Counselor Kyant. I must ask why you try to deny that the March of Flai Drary and Jend were involved in a conspiracy against me? Really, it is obvious that they were. How else can these events be explained? We were clearly right to suspect Rassler."

"But, sire, we have not examined what the evidence is to support these claims. If I learned anything in the army, and in your direct service, is that inaccurate rumors travel faster and are more easily believed than the truth. And the more wrong and scandalous the rumor, the faster it spreads."

The king began to reply, voice rising, "Kyant, just shut your mouth and, we really need to talk about..."

Kyant was saved by the arrival of Earl Martain, who entered the room.

"My brother! How goes it? Are you ready to see your horses dominate again today?" Earl Martain entered with a flourish and went to hug the king. Martain was much what the king wasn't; tall, athletic, with luxurious blond hair and equally luxurious greetings. He was in his early thirties, like the king, but most on meeting him would have guessed him to be in his early twenties. The king they would have figured for over forty.

Earl Martain was not Neydon's brother, as Neydon was an only child, but was the closest thing he had to one, as they'd grown up together. Martain was the only one Neydon let hug him. Anyone else, other than Neydon's wife Queen Zofia, was not allowed within three feet, and an attempt to hug would probably lead to at least the stockade, or even execution for particularly egregious hugs.

"It is good to see you, Martain," Neydon said. I'm almost done. Bring the jockeys in, and we can get going. I was just finishing up with these two. An unpleasant business. You heard what happened to Bowen?"

"No, what happened to our man Bowen? Is he all right?"

"Currently prisoner in 'Pelsa', of all places."

"Pelsa? The monster badlands? How'd he end up there? He wants to lay claim to some tundra? Another of his weird schemes to get more land?"

“No, he was in Our service. We sent Bowen and Hargest at the command of a force from the Royal Army to Keley to arrest Rassler. But the scoundrel did not stand like a man and answer the accusations. Instead he fled to Jend, the warlord to the north, with whom he is clearly in league. Bowen took his men across the border in pursuit of Rassler, and thought he had safe passage, as Dravon here can explain. But Jend had a couple of dark witches with a force of monsters attack Bowen and his men. Most of our men ended up eaten. Now Bowen is most probably being tortured in a dungeon in that collection of shacks that passes for the monster capital city.”

Dravon raised his hand, “And, sire and my lord Martain, if I might add, we have also received a report from a spy we have in Lagar’s Haven, stating that Sir Bowen is being forced to attend a dark demonic ceremony worshiping Jend and his witch-wife’s twisted version of the gods, taking place on the Equinox. Just a couple of days from now. We must hope that Sir Bowen and Sir Hargest survive the ceremony, and do not have their livers removed and sacrificed on the witches’ altar!”

“Wow,” said Earl Martain.

They all paused and looked at each other.

Martain thought hard and said, “But we need to get the horses to the track! The jockeys are ready. And you, my brother, will not just be loved as our wise king today, but loved as the ‘Speed King’! Your team is looking very strong today, so let’s not delay, but go conquer!”

“Yes, Martain, you are right. Enough of this. Let’s get to the track.” Neydon turned to the two counselors. “You two, out. We’ll talk more of this tomorrow after Our lunch. I must go now.”

“Yes, sire,” said Kyant, hoping the day's delay gave him enough time to figure out what was really going on.

As he headed toward the door, Dravon said, “Your Royal Highness, it is just, well, we should give a response to the ransom demand. Bowen and Hargest’s lives may depend on it, and they perhaps do not have much time.”

Neydon let out an audibly loud sigh of frustration and impatience. “Yes, yes, yes. I know. But we can certainly not meet the warlord’s crazy and insulting ‘demands.’ But, yes, I know we must take care of our knights, and I do care for them. So, let us say, we offer four thousand gold sovereigns for Bowen, four hundred for Hargest, a hundred for the wizard, whatever his name was, and fifty for any other man they haven’t eaten yet.” Neydon watched as Dravon wrote down the amounts. “Do you have all that? Yes, good. Get it dispatched, and don’t bother me again until tomorrow. If they don’t accept the ransom, get your other men ready. Now, goodbye to both of you, and do try to come to the races.”

As they exited, Dravon said to Kyant, “So that will be a total of five thousand gold sovereigns. Counselor Kyant, you've heard it commanded. If you could accompany me now to the treasury, I will withdraw the funds and get them to an envoy I trust. He will take the money to Pelsa and free our men.”

A withdrawal of five thousand gold caused Kyant physical pain to even think about, but he had heard the king first-hand. He walked with Dravon to the Royal Vaults.