The eight ambassadors were waiting in the throne room, talking amongst themselves in low tones. He didn’t recognize any of them from the coronation, but it was possible that they were the same people dressed in slightly different clothes. Enough had been going on that the foreigners had been hard to keep track of.
At the very least, he could tell their people and nationalities apart with relative ease. The Dwarf who was standing in the middle of them was wearing the badge of the Rusted Clans, whose underground borders ran right up against the territory controlled by Nuramesh in the Small Heights. Apparently the two peoples had been allies before the Gnomes had ‘joined’ the kingdom, and he had no doubt that the Dwarves would have loved to reclaim the area for their Coalition.
Of the other seven, there were three Elves, wearing the colors of Simarenal, Wuranis, and Alterian. They were likely hostile as well, given their apparent habit of raiding the Hard Scythe Orcs and fending off retaliation. From what Gorfeld had told him, it was an endless cycle of feuds and hatred that had driven the Hard Scythes to join with the kingdom in the hopes of avoiding extermination.
Three of the remaining four were Wizards, with the final one being an obvious Knight. She had her helmet off, and her red hair flowed down her armored back, but the heraldry from the Knights of the Bear was easy to see. The Wizards were all more of the robes and staff sort, obviously representatives of the Order of Echoes, the last member of the Coalition, and the one located the furthest from the Kingdom’s borders. Two of them were unfamiliar, but there was something about that last one…
All eight suddenly stopped talking as he entered the throne room. They turned to stare at him as he crossed the open space. He wore a slightly different regalia compared to the uniform he’d worn that first day, but he knew they had to have immediately recognized him. Hopefully, he’d be able to impress them a second time.
Matt nodded politely to the ambassadors. “Hello. Welcome to Redspire.”
The ambassadors bowed, though some of them looked a little uncertain. One of the robed Wizards glanced towards the throne. They had probably been expecting him to be sitting on that cold metal thing, huh? Well, they were going to have to get used to being surprised.
One of the Wizards stepped forward and bowed a second time. “Thank you for your welcome, King Matthew. Might we ask for a portion of your time?”
Matt paused. The feeling that he’d seen the old man somewhere before was overpowering. He hadn’t been in the room during the coronation, however. Something about him brought back the scent of pine needles, rain…
Recognition dawned, and Matt let out a short bark of laughter. The other ambassadors jumped a little, with the Knight reaching for her ornate blade, but the leader didn’t seem to mind. “It is you. The old man from the night all this started.”
The Wizard smiled. “My name is Alerios, King Matthew.”
“Yeah, I remember now.” He gestured for them to follow. “Have they been taking care of you? I’m sorry that I haven’t been able to speak with you before now.”
Alerios glanced at the others and then started after him. The ambassadors trailed after, their expressions wary and their eyes alert. “Yes, they have. I understand that you have several great projects in motion currently?”
Matt gave him a sharp look. The Wizard was obviously showing off the fact they had people in the city giving them reports on his actions. Not a bad display of soft power, and one that he’d have to overlook. “You are unfortunately well informed, Alerios. But yes. I have a lot of work to do.” He led them along the corridor, taking them to a nearby meeting room. The place had once been used for pages served food to the monarch their invited guests. Now there was a small table, along with enough chairs to seat all of them.
He took the chair at the head of the table and allowed the others to filter along to whatever places they saw fit. Alerios took the chair at Matt’s left hand; the Knight grabbed the chair at his right. The Dwarf sat at the extreme opposite end of the table, glowering all the while, and the other Elves and Wizards filled the rest of the space.
It took a moment for them all to be seated. Once everyone had settled in, Matt glanced at Gorfeld, who was waiting dutifully at his elbow. “Could you find refreshments for our guests, Gorfeld? Though they might have their own food, I imagine the road here was long.”
Alerios smiled. “Magic eased our journey considerably, actually. But a bit of water never goes awry.”
Gorfeld bowed his way out of the room, and Matt turned his attention back to his guests. “So. May I ask what brings you to Redspire today?”
“We’ve come to see if you’re as much a murdering bastard as the last one who sat the throne, so stop wasting our time you silly nitwit!”
The exclamation hung in the air for a moment, aided by the Dwarf’s thundering growl, and Matt raised his eyebrows. Alerios cleared his throat. His voice was deceptively mild. “I must point out that although he is a visitor to our realm, King Matthew has the Divine Right, and can understand any language of the realm. Including, as I understand it, Dwarven mine cant.”
To his credit, the Dwarf only looked surprised instead of horrified. Then his scowl returned with interest. “I meant what I said, and so do the rest of you. He offered peace, so I hear, but it is easy to say, hard to believe.”
Matt fixed the Dwarf with a steady stare. “True enough. Though I would point out that harsh words are a poor substitute for honesty and respect.”
As the Dwarf spluttered with sudden fury, the Knight to Matt’s right spoke up. “We are unaccustomed to honesty from the throne of Redspire, your Majesty. You should not blame us if we are skeptical about hearing it now.”
“Interesting that you demand proof from me while offering none of your own. Or are the only raiders on our shared border Orcs?” Matt held her gaze for long enough to make the Knight flush and look away, and then turned his attention to the Elves. “How many of your own raiders have you sponsored over the years? It’s asking quite a lot for me to trust that you won’t simply turn to it again while I am supposedly occupied with other matters.”
The Dwarf finally choked out words past the bolus of rage in his throat. “As if any of us would stoop to such methods. Yours are the raiders and the looters, the filth!”
Matt nearly had to bite his lip as the Elves collectively seemed to alternate between glaring at their supposed ally and shrinking down into their chairs. He let them squirm a moment before switching back to the Dwarf. “Of course. The Rusted Clans would never do anything underhanded…such as attempting to entice one of our peoples to rebel? Or are those secret maneuvers somehow more honorable because they are literally underground?”
He watched as the Dwarf opened his mouth. No words came out, and the Dwarf flushed a deeper purple. Matt waited until the ambassador had closed his mouth again, and then he sighed. “Look, I understand that there are unpleasant histories between our people. Given what I’ve been able to learn of it, your Coalition and my Kingdom have more than enough reason to hate and kill one another for centuries. I think we already all knew that before we walked into this room. What I am asking now is, are there any reasons for us not to do that? Have you come here to find reasons to not continue that cycle of killing for as long as either of us has blood in our veins?”
There was a silence. Then Alerios spoke, his voice curiously amused. “You have made your point adequately, King Matthew. And you have done an admirable job of bringing us to the salient point of discussion.” The Wizard leaned forward slightly, resting one arm on the table as he turned slightly more to face Matt. “The Coalition has entrusted us with the responsibility of securing a more permanent truce with you, if it be possible. I will not deny that your earlier actions on our behalf weigh heavily in that decision, but we will not accept anything that allows you to continue to prey on our people.”
Matt felt his heart beat harder. He smiled. “Good. What guarantees can you offer me?”
Alerios coughed slightly into his free hand and then raised an eyebrow. “A concession we were instructed to seek was a cessation of any border raids by your people on our territory.”
“So long as you do the same, I agree.” Matt glanced at the Elves, who avoided his gaze. “In addition, I propose that if there is any evidence of raiding by either side, we are allowed to demand the surrender of the responsible parties—for either imprisonment or execution.”
One of the Elves, a woman with blue hair, red eyes, and painfully pointed ears, stood up from the table with a snarl on her face. “No! I will never subject my people to the false accusations and lies of your barbarians!”
“I did not say accusations, ambassador. I said evidence.” Matt smiled unpleasantly. “After all, I’m sure that many raiders have a tendency to not leave any witnesses alive and free to testify against them. Burnt villages, dead citizens, and other traces, however…”
One of the other Elves, this one with skin as pale as Itrelia’s had been and golden hair, gestured for his companion to sit. “And there will be a forum where such evidence will be presented?”
“Of course. By both sides.” Matt spread his hands. “I have no interest in allowing disorder to spread through my lands, and raiders are often casual about the laws of their own nation, in addition to those of outsiders. I have every intention of making sure that no bandits live among my people.”
Then he let his voice grow cold. “And if I see any sign of bandits among yours, you will either surrender them to me, or I will seek them out. They, and any who shelter them, will know my wrath, treaty or no treaty. This I promise you.”
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The silence this time was deep. He watched as the Elf grew paler, and as the one who had stood sunk down into her seat. After a moment longer, he turned back to the Knight. “Did you recognize my sincerity now, my lady ambassador?”
Her eyes wide, the Knight simply stared back at him. The slow nod she eventually gave him was a minor victory, but one he considered well worth the effort. Matt looked from her, to the Elves, and then back at Alerios. “Well then, no more raiding. Were there any other concerns?”
One of the other Wizards, a younger man whose voice was more than a little unsteady, half-raised his hand. “We would like to see less of your soldiers armed and on our borders, King Matthew.”
Matt turned to the Wizard. “I’m afraid that I have no intention of disarming my people, ambassador, and if I did, they would have every right to kill me where I stand.” He spread his arms wide. “I have enemies that intend to steal our lives and land on all sides—except our border with you, of course—and those wars demand that I both ready the people to fight and see that they are able to defend themselves.”
The young Wizard leaned forward a little, his eyes suddenly eager. “But with the truce extended between us, surely there is no reason to—”
Alerios put a hand on his companion’s arm, and the young man cut off. Matt smiled. “Would you care to instruct him, Alerios, or should I?”
The older Wizard gave him a reproachful look. “Perhaps it would be better to hear your reasons, your Majesty.”
“As you wish.” Matt shrugged. “Our truce is new and untested. I cannot reduce our border guards until I am sure it will hold—a practice I’m sure the Coalition will also follow on their side of the border. Besides, I’m afraid that my soldiers may be occupied with keeping the peace among my own people. If I wish for them to stop raiding, it will probably be my soldiers who need to restrain them, as well as enforcing my other laws.”
The younger ambassador sat back, his expression unsatisfied, but he said nothing. The third Wizard glanced at him with some measure of sympathy and then spoke up. “You’ll excuse our eagerness to see peace blossom here, King Matthew. One day, perhaps your Kingdom will no longer see the need for such barbaric preparations for war.”
Matt raised his eyes. “In my home, there is a saying. If you value peace, prepare for war.” The ambassadors exchanged looks with each other, and he continued. “Our arms may deter some among you who would be tempted to extend their reach into our lands, thus keeping the peace. In addition, it’s my observation that many people who desire peace want everyone else to lay down their arms, so they alone can enjoy protection and respect. I have no intention of robbing my people of either, just for assurances from you.”
The two Wizards shifted uncomfortably in their seats, and Matt glanced at Alerios again. He caught the older Wizard examining him, his blue and yellow eyes bright with some emotion that he couldn’t identify. Was it interest? Amusement? Or delight at a novice stepping into a trap? A moment later, the Wizard’s expression closed down into a careful, blank look.
Before he could continue, the Dwarf cleared his throat. “If you care so much for your people, will you be setting the Small Heights free, then?”
Matt looked back at the Dwarf, who seemed to have regained some of his previous stubbornness. “No.”
An expectant silence followed the flat denial. Matt let it continue. He had no intention of letting pieces of his realm go out of his control, not until he could stabilize things. Especially not considering what was probably going on in the Small Heights at that very moment.
“Your pardon, King Matthew.” The Knight’s voice was far more careful than it had been before. When he looked back at her, there was a kind of respect in her expression that he hadn’t remembered when she had first spoken. “You may not be aware, but in times past, the Gnomes of the Small Heights were members of our Coalition. They lost their freedom to the Kingdom in war, and there are many among us that would rejoice to see them regain it.”
“I see.” Matt gave her a respectful nod in return. “Unfortunately, I cannot change what has happened in the past, and at the moment, the Small Heights have consented to continue as part of our Kingdom. I will not turn my back on them, for any reason, especially while others of the Kingdom are shedding their blood in defense of those lands.”
“What?” The blond Elf was the one who spoke, and his face was shocked. “The Small Heights are under attack?”
Matt frowned, wondering what the problem was. Then he caught sight of the other two Elves darting glances at the Dwarf, and realization dawned. “It is nothing your Coalition needs to concern itself with, only an internal matter. All the same, I cannot ask my soldiers to die for land that they will then have to surrender to a people who did not fight for its defense.”
The Knight nodded slowly. “A reasonable concern.” She leaned forward slightly. “All the same, it seems as if you might be able to let the Gnomes go free at least. Or as many as no longer see your Kingdom as home.”
It was a request that made Matt sit back and think for a moment. The fewer people he had sitting around and unhappy with him inside his borders, the better. Then again, having them outside his borders and unhappy with him wasn’t the best either. “While a border open to migration and trade does sound tempting, at the moment, I must refuse. The Kingdom’s need for arms and labor is too great—and I suspect the temptation to slip a few spies and saboteurs among the displaced would be a bit too strong. Perhaps we can revisit the subject in the future.”
She nodded, and the Dwarf snorted. “As if any of ours would ever wish to live under the heel of a tyrant.”
Matt grinned at him. “You would be surprised, ambassador. Perhaps they would find more freedom here than they would at their supposed home.”
The Dwarf snorted and rolled his eyes, but it seemed to be more of an expression of permanent grumpiness than one of actual resentment. It seemed as if he had vented at least some of his bluster, or at least enough that he no longer wanted to bite Matt’s nose off. Progress, of a sort.
One of the Elves, the one wearing the blue and red of Alterian, spoke up. Her voice was very uncertain, as if the discomfort of her companions had made her worry about speaking. “We have heard some strange news among your people. There are now freeholders among you? What people is that? Are they yours?”
Despite himself, Matt grinned again. “You could say so, though they are not from my world. I am a Human, for future reference.” She nodded, and he continued. “The freeholders are a new class among my people. They are free to move about the land as they will, and to pursue their own trades. They have the right to arm themselves, to petition the crown for justice, and the responsibility to defend the Kingdom.”
“They are nobles, then?” The young Wizard was plainly confused, but too interested to restrain himself.
“No. They stand apart from the nobility, in that they have not been granted titles or noble privileges. They cannot raise their own armies, for example, and do not have the right to attend the Grand Council.” He looked over as the Alterian raised her hand slightly.
“So they are unbound. Leaderless. Unprotected.” She seemed troubled, as if she had found an abandoned dog on the side of the road. “Who will care for them in their time of need?”
“They will care for themselves, ambassador, as I am certain they can.” Matt tapped the table with one finger. “And if that is not enough, then I will. I have sworn to do so, and I will see them safe.”
She nodded and sat back, though she and the others looked a little uncertain. Alerios was the next to speak, his voice almost elaborately casual.
“Along those lines, King Matthew, I have one last question for you.” He tilted his head slightly to one side. “I understand that your oath during the coronation was somewhat…unusual.”
Matt met the Wizard’s eyes and frowned a little. “I suppose so. I did not think it was that important.”
“Then you may have been misinformed, your Majesty.” Alerios paused, glancing around the table. “You see, the wording of that oath is something that has been handed down for generations.”
Still frowning, Matt tapped the table slowly. “I understand that traditions are often important, but I felt—”
The Wizard was shaking his head now. “Not simply tradition, your Majesty. Magic. And in magic, wording can be very important indeed.”
Matt felt a chill in his blood. He remembered the power that had surged through him, heard the lightning roaring outside the windows. “I see.”
“Perhaps you do.” Alerios smiled a little. It did not reach his eyes. “You see, the wording has been standard not just in this kingdom, but in nearly all the realms. All the ones that I have had the pleasure of visiting, of course.”
Forcing a smile, Matt gestured for him to continue. “Is there a reason why? Don’t tell me that I’ve missed out on some spell that would have kept the wars from our door.”
Alerios gave him a wry smile in return. “No, your Majesty. Nothing that simple. You see, the coronation is a binding spell of a sort. The new monarch gives the lands their promise and in return they gain some measure of power.”
Matt thought over the standard wording that Gorfeld had made him memorize. The acceptance of fealty, the demands for obedience, the claiming of conquest. “There didn’t seem to be a lot of promises in what they told me to say.”
The Wizard nodded. “Correct. You see, it was quickly found that in making those promises, one opened oneself up to vulnerability. The more a monarch promised to do, the more they found themselves bound to the work of overseeing their realm. If they break those promises, and the realm suffers…”
“The monarch suffers.” His mouth went a little dry. “Like the Fisher King.”
There was a stir among the ambassadors. Alerios himself went very, very still. “Who, your Majesty?”
“Nothing. Just an old story from home.” Matt’s mind was racing, trying to remember what exactly he had said during the coronation. “A king had been wounded, and his land suffered while he was not able to heal. The land and the king were connected, and when one faltered, so did the other.”
“Ah. Yes.” Alerios glanced at the others. “Such is the case. So many who were crowned found both they and their lands suffered due to their misplaced pride when the oaths went unfulfilled.”
The Wizard paused, and he met Matt’s eyes. “I hope, King Matthew, that you live up to yours.”
“I did warn you about the wording, sire.”
Gorfeld somehow managed to mingle respect with reproach, and Matt grimaced. He hadn’t exactly taken Alerios’ revelations the previous day well. “Yeah, I guess you did.” Then he gave the Imp a steady look. “At the same time, you were going to have me swear to be king here for the rest of my entire life, so maybe your intentions weren’t as pure as you’re saying.”
The Imp had the grace to look a little ashamed of himself, though the expression was a brief one. “All the same, sire, that is a concern for another day. Are you certain that you wish to depart? I’m sure Greymouth would hold just fine for another day or two.”
“That’s not going to be the point, Gorfeld.” Matt turned back to his own preparations, packing away the maps he’d had made of the area. “The banners are ready to move, and so am I. We leave tomorrow at first light.”
His steward nodded and seemed to be on the edge of wringing his hands. “You still believe that it is wise to leave Lord Tek here unsupervised? The damage he could do…”
Matt’s imagination did an admirable job of filling in the blanks, but he nodded anyway. “Yeah. It’s all part of the plan. You just make sure that the captains stay firm, and that they muster some of the freeholders to defend the city. That should keep him from doing anything obvious until I get back.”
Gorfeld bowed his head in acceptance, though Matt still noticed a bit of mulishness in his advisor’s face. “I still believe that the risk is unwarranted, sire. To place yourself on the front lines so soon is a gamble that might cost you your life.”
“Then I guess you’ll just have to hope your next king or queen is wiser, Gorfeld.” He finished adjusting the armored surcoat the barracks quartermasters had supplied him with and nodded to himself. It was a bit of a pain to take on and off, but it was something he could do for himself in the field, and his troops would see him as that much more of an independent soldier. Even if half of them knew he’d been getting beaten about the ears by Nikles and his friends for the past half a week.
“Okay then, I’ll be going.” He stepped over to the steward and clapped him lightly on the shoulder. As Gorfeld looked up, Matt leaned in close. “Be ready to move when I tell you. You can trust whatever messages I send, as long as they have some of my writing on it. Understand?”
The Imp nodded slowly, his eyes slightly narrowed. He didn’t know all of Matt’s plans—it was probably wiser that way, in case Tek got a bit too anticipatory while Matt was away—but he knew enough. Matt stepped back and settled his pack on his shoulder. “I’ll be home in two weeks, maybe three. I expect to see everything taken care of in my absence.”
“It will be done, sire.” Gorfeld bowed low, and Matt strode past him and into the corridor beyond. His troops would be waiting for him—and so would his enemies.