Matt sat in the chamber of the Great Council and waited for the messenger to be led in.

The Frost Elf noblemen had arrived the previous night, too late for the Council to be convened—especially since just the day before they had finally concluded the treaty with the Western Coalition. For the next five years, at least, there would be no hostilities on the western borders of the Kingdom. It would be a treaty enforced by magic, which was moderately comforting. He knew Grufen, at the very least, would be happy to know that his people were no longer threatened by raiders from the Elves on his flanks.

Now, however, a trio of Frost Elf nobles was allowed to enter the Great Council. They wore robes that almost seemed to have been woven from the snow still falling outside. It glittered and shone as they strode across the floor, coming to a stop before his throne.

One of the Frost Elves, a young woman with the same frost lace in her hair that Itrelia had worn during Matt’s coronation, bowed low. “King Matthew, we bring news of the end of the rebellion in Winterfast.”

Matt nodded slowly. He’d already been told that Itrelia hadn’t come with the delegation south. He wondered if Grufen would need to search the north for her, once this new leader of the Frost Elves was firmly in line. “I am glad to hear that our troubles are over, then. You have heard the terms of surrender.”

The woman winced, but she nodded. “We have, sire. Our nobility is already proclaiming the freedom of our serfs, and the land has been set aside for those of our kinsmen who have risen to the status of freeholders. The Clan has nominated me as the next head of our people. My name is Lady Ratallene.”

He inclined his head slightly. “Might I inquire as to what happened to the previous head of the Frost Elves, Lady Ratallene? While it is good to know that the Lady Itrelia is no longer in control of your Clan, her continued freedom might lead some of your people to continue to fight on her behalf.”

Ratallene glanced at the other Frost Elves, one of whom was carrying a small bag. “The Lady Itrelia suffered from a severe lack of foresight and wisdom, my liege. Her continual defiance on the battlefield led to many losses among our kinsmen. When she was finally called to account for her actions, she unfortunately chose to… resist the change in both leadership and direction for our Clan.”

The Elf at her side lifted something out of the bag, and Matt found himself confronting a familiar face. He blinked for a moment, and then nodded. “I see she suffered the price of putting her own glory above that of the Clan.”

“She did, sire.” Ratallene gestured, and the Frost Elf put Itrelia’s head back in its container. “I regret that we were unable to bring her to you for trial, but at the very least you can be sure that she will no longer trouble your Kingdom, or your rule.”

Itrelia would also no longer be able to name any names when it came to who her most important supporters were among the Frost Elves, either. Matt would have to keep that in mind as he accepted these people’s loyalty; at least some of them would have continued to back Itrelia no matter what she had done, if it had given them power.

Of course, those same people would have already been partially crippled by the sudden loss of lands and the independence of their former serfs, to say nothing of the deaths of their armsmen and warriors. Perhaps those losses would convince them to not only tie up loose ends like their former ruler, but also to behave a bit more… circumspectly in the future.

“Very well.” Matt stood, and the members of the Great Council looked down on him in clear expectation. “As they have surrendered and dealt with the traitors among them, I declare that the Frost Elves of Winterfast are no longer in rebellion, and welcome them back to full loyalty in the Kingdom. The prisoners who are being kept in the Tower of Blood will be freed, to fight alongside the comrades they should never have left, and together, our reunited people will prosper.”

He looked around the room. “Does anyone speak out against these announcements?”

No one spoke. After a long moment, Lord Torth rose to his feet. “My liege, I propose we send Magistrates north, along with lifeguards for their protection, so that the Assembly of their freeholders can be secured and any lingering traces of treachery stomped out. Aside from such proposals, I wholeheartedly welcome our brothers and sisters among the Frost Elves back into the Kingdom.”

Matt inclined his head. “Does anyone else second the motion?”

A Goblin and a Red Moon Orc both rose. Matt nodded and then turned back to the Frost Elves. “The Great Council will choose these first emissaries to your homeland. Once they have finished, you may send your own representatives here to participate in the work of guiding the Kingdom. Do you have any questions for us?”

The Frost Elves looked around. Ratallene answered for all of them. “No, sire.”

“Good.” Matt smiled. “I will leave the Council to debate the selection of the Magistrates. In the meantime, I would meet with you, Lady Ratallene, so we can discuss the situation of your people. If you would follow me?”

Matt fell into the chair and gestured for Ratallene to take the one across from him. “Come in, Lady Ratallene. Take a seat.”

The Frost Elf hesitated, obviously unhappy about being isolated from her friends. She glanced at the lifeguards brooding in the corners of his study, and then settled into the chair, perching on the very edge of the cushion. Matt noted the tension in her posture and tried to seem a bit more reassuring.

“First, allow me to thank you for doing what needed to be done to end this conflict. I never felt it was necessary in the first place, and I will be glad to see it over with.”

Ratallene’s eyes narrowed slightly, but she swallowed whatever her initial response would have been. “I am also glad it is over, sire. Our people, unfortunately, have suffered terribly from such an awful mistake on the part of my predecessor.”

Matt leaned back in his chair. He rested his right hand on the desk and slowly tapped it with one finger. “I know that you’ve had grievous losses on the battlefield. Are there other problems I don’t know about?”

She winced at the question. It was possible she was remembering who had caused a good portion of those losses with forces under his personal command. “The losses on the battlefield stung us worse than you know, sire. Most of the Winterknights were either captured or killed. They represented the highest among our nobility. In truth, much of the noble families of Winterfast have now lost many of their numbers; those who remain will take time to replenish their numbers.”

He tilted his head to consider her words. The fact that the losses hit their upper ranks the hardest made sense; Itrelia had loved throwing the Winterknights into combat, and she’d only started out with something close to four banners of them. Even counting the ones who had been taken prisoner, she barely had more than a banner left. “Are there still enough nobility left to govern?”

“Yes, sire. In fact, your…distribution of our lands may have helped matters, as those who have inherited from their fallen kin will not need to administrate so much territory as before.” Ratallene shook her head. “Though I doubt that many will thank you for it, sire.”

Matt snorted. “Yeah, I don’t think so either.” He paused, thinking back over the battles he fought against the Frost Elves. Would they ever really accept him as a King after he’d been responsible for breaking them? How could he reforge them into a functional part of the Kingdom now?

He shook his head and sighed. “I’ll be sending the prisoners—former prisoners—north as soon as I give them enough supplies. They can escort the Council’s Magistrates to your home, where they’ll hopefully be able to put things in order.”

Ratallene nodded. “Thank you, sire.”

“As soon as they can, they’ll need to march back south.” He saw surprise on her face and shook his head again. “Itrelia was not the only one to make mistakes, Lady Ratallene. Now that your people are no longer at war with us, they will need to join us to put a stop to Teblas’ actions. Your warriors will join the rest of the Kingdom’s soldiers to bring peace there.”

Ratallene grimaced and looked away. “It may… take some time, sire. To reorganize, rearm, and reinforce them will take a significant amount of our remaining resources.”

“I’m sure the Magistrate will assist you in locating the resources you need.” Matt allowed his voice to grow a little cold, and she straightened in her chair again. “I will not try to squeeze blood from a stone, Lady Ratallene, but there are still too many threats to face. If we don’t stop Teblas before spring…”

She studied him for a moment. “You are worried about the Alliance.”

“They aren’t as foolish as the Noble Races were, and their army is well funded and supplied. Our own forces have suffered in the recent battles as well, and if we don’t move fast enough, they won’t just settle for invading us.” Matt tapped the desk again. “From my understanding, they will want to destroy the whole Kingdom, and leave the rest of us to live in the ashes.”

Ratallene tilted her head to the side, as if copying him. “They will take a very long time to reach the Winterfast, sire.”

He raised his eyebrows. “But they will reach it, unless you help. So unless you want your children to face a catastrophe that you failed to stop, you will become a helpful vassal in truth, Lady Ratallene. Not least because if you stall and delay, the Great Council will not likely be as merciful as I’ve encouraged them to be today.”

She stared back at him, her expression unreadable. Then she inclined her head. “Within five weeks, I will have three banners of skirmishers, and one of Winterknights, ready to march south, sire. More, I cannot promise without risking your displeasure when I fail—but I will try my best to support you.”

Matt nodded slowly. It was a hard thing to ask a war-torn province to contribute troops so quickly, but he didn’t have that much of a choice. The fact that he’d allowed them to surrender without giving his troops the chance to loot them was already risky enough. “If that is the best you can do, then I accept it, Lady Ratallene. Do not disappoint me.”

She nodded, and he gestured for her to go. The Frost Elf paused and then stood. After a short bow, she walked out of the room, her back unnaturally straight. He was left with his plans, wondering if he could actually depend on them to stay loyal. Time would tell, one way or the other.

The problem Teblas presented was a tough one.

On the face of things, it seemed like it would be simple enough to solve. He could just march down to the Sortenmoors with as many troops as he could muster and try to kill the rebel and all of his supporters. Now that he no longer had to worry about attacks from the east and the north, it was far easier and more straightforward to concentrate his forces against the one active threat he needed to worry about. With the treaty securing his western borders, it made even more sense, since the only other enemies he had were going to attack him from the same direction.

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After all, he’d spent quite a bit of effort to build the Sortenmoors into a trap for Teblas and his armies. Promoting the use of Irregular militia and promising advancement to freeholder status to anyone willing to fight for the Kingdom had raised masses of partisans throughout the region. Those same militia had been busily attacking Teblas’ flanks and supply lines. They’d already achieved more success against the Leaffall Orc leader than Lord Braden, the former leader of the Red Moon Orcs, had managed. Teblas had spent more time chasing the various raiders around than he had securing the actual territory for himself.

The only downside was that the trap worked both ways. There were just as many militia running around allied to Teblas as there were allied to the Kingdom, and a fairly decent amount that were independent bandits. So many battles had been fought in the Sortenmoors that most of the reports he’d received didn’t even bother trying to keep track of all of them, only focusing on those that caused a notable change in the balance of power.

Entering the Sortenmoors would be like sticking his own hand into a band saw that he had started up to hurt Teblas. Matt could easily see his own flanks and supply lines being worn away, with banner after banner being lost in the constant warfare. Attempting to secure the Sortenmoors while Teblas was there would be effectively impossible, since the rebel would just counter his actions. Trying to chase down and destroy Teblas before the area was secure would be a bloodbath, even if it was somehow successful.

All of which would leave his armies softened up and ready for defeat by the time the Alliance of Light invaded that same area in the spring.

So he needed another option aside from simply rushing into the abattoir with his own forces. One that would persuade Teblas to leave the chaos of the Sortenmoors and allow him to be isolated and destroyed.

Fortunately, there was an option that would allow Matt to accomplish that task. He saw it clearly as he bent over the maps of the Kingdom, tracing the lines that denoted the various provinces.

The Sortenmoors were located to the extreme south and west of the Kingdom. The Copper Hills, Teblas’ homeland, was to the south and east, separated from the Sortenmoors by a stretch of barren boglands called the Grim Hollows. When Matt had taken the throne, he’d sent Lord Braden with a sizable force to try to stop Teblas from crossing the Hollows and reaching the Sortenmoors in the first place, an act that could have stopped Teblas’ rebellion before it even really got started.

Unfortunately, Braden had failed, and Teblas had gotten across the swamps anyway. Fortunately, there was a way to try to replicate the battle, only this time with Matt in command. Perhaps that would result in a different victor.

He spread his hands over the map, tracing the area north of the Copper Hills, where the rough terrain quickly turned into the broken mountains that his people called the High Peaks. It was the territory of the High Imps, and the mountain range that had kept the Noble Races at bay. Now that the Noble Races were pacified, the border garrisons were far less occupied. He’d only need a moderate amount of guards to guarantee that the tribute from their defeated enemies was not interrupted by an opportunistic bandit or a thieving noble.

Which meant that there was an opportunity to use the rest of his forces in a far more productive way. Matt smiled, tapping one spot in particular in that area. It was high time for him to visit the High Imp capitol of Ashpeak.

“You’re sure this is necessary, sire?”

Captain Karve’s voice showed concern, but Matt shrugged. “I know you aren’t comfortable with the responsibility, Captain, but the Margraves are currently busy. Grufen is still helping keep order in Winterfast, and I’ll be needing Morteth in the east. You already had some experience making sure Redspire was kept secure, and I trust you to carry out your duties loyally.”

The Coldhearth Orc shifted on his feet, looking mildly uncomfortable at the praise. “I would have expected you to choose Captain Snolt for this, however. He has fought far more often at your side.”

“Captain Snolt is far more used to raids than he is garrison duty. You are a bit more reliable.” Matt was underselling things a little. Snolt outright hated garrison duty, to the point that Matt suspected he would start causing problems if he was left in the capital for too long. Better to rely on the Captain of the Iron Eighth to keep things stable and secure.

Karve was still looking skeptical, but he seemed a bit more reassured than he had been. “If you are sure, sire.” The Orc paused, looking out over the rest of the garrison. It had gotten far less crowded with the departure of their prisoners, but it was still a jumble of banners still in the process of rebuilding themselves. The losses over the course of the campaign against the Noble Races had been harsh for the banners attached to the Redspire garrison, and they were still trying to find and train new recruits to replace the casualties.

The Captain looked at Matt again, and this time the source of his concerns seemed to have shifted. “Are you sure it is wise for you to go alone, sire? Surely if Captain Snolt isn’t being well-used here, he could give you an escort to Ashpeak.”

Matt hesitated, glancing around. “The lifeguard is capable of protecting me well enough, and there aren’t going to be any armies wandering around in our territory there. Snolt is still healing from his wounds, and the Royal First has already worked hard in the past few weeks. They deserve the time they need to recover so that they can be ready for what we’ll have to do next.”

Karve studied him a moment. “You’re talking about confronting Teblas.”

“Teblas, the Sortenmoors, the Alliance…” Matt shook his head. “I can’t afford to run my forces too ragged. Take this chance to rest, because there might not be many more chances in the days to come.”

The Orc nodded, his expression thoughtful. “I suppose that reminding you to rest is fruitless, my liege?”

Matt laughed at the wry tone in the captain’s tone. “You’re not wrong, but a King has other duties.”

“Duties that may go ignored if you drive yourself too hard, sire.” Karve folded his arms and regarded him with a raised eyebrow. “You were wounded recently, and you’ve ridden and fought as hard as any of us. When will you rest?”

“When my people are safe, and we no longer have to fight just to survive.” It sounded like a day that would never come, but Matt shook his head at that fatalistic thought. He’d see it happen or die trying. Gorfeld and the others had put their trust in him. He wasn’t going to let them down.

Karve was nodding slowly. The Captain’s eyes were steady as he met Matt’s gaze. “We will be ready to march when you need us, sire. I give you my word.”

Matt stuck out a hand. “I know you’ll be ready, Captain. Thank you.”

They shook on it, and Matt turned to head for his next appointment. There was always too much to do, and he had plenty of things to set in motion before he headed out of the capital again.

Parufeth nodded as Matt finished his explanations. “Sounds about right. We’re getting a bit ahead of schedule, aren’t we?”

Matt nodded with a smile. “Yeah. I wouldn’t want to find that you’d been left idle. I know it is hard to keep up with things during the winter…”

“Work keeps us warm, sire.” The Gnome foreman grinned. “Besides, it should be interesting enough. The slow filters and these…sewers?...you’ve had us building were interesting enough, but the boys and girls have been looking forward to something a bit more dramatic.”

“Well, this should help them out well enough.” Matt tapped the drawing he’d laid out in front of the Gnome. It showed a large, rectangular building, one that he had hoped to build fairly close to the castle itself. “Remember, only start on demolition when you are close to being done. Forcing people to move during the winter might be a problem, but the sooner we complete this, the sooner we can work on the rest of our projects.”

Parufeth studied the plans a bit more, his frown becoming a bit more obvious as he traced his hands across the sketches. “I see we’ll be tearing up the street, too. And these are pipes… to hook into the sewers? And the pipes from the Great Cistern?”

Matt grinned. “Yeah. That way, they don’t even have to have a single public latrine. Instead, the latrines are integrated into the building itself…”

“Along with a series of private wells, drawn from a group of minor cisterns beneath the street.” Parufeth’s fingers traced the diagram of the street, lingering over the grates that were positioned along the gutters. “These are another set of channels. What will they carry?”

“Rainwater and melting snow, mostly.” The Gnome looked at Matt with confusion, and Matt smiled. “With the roads all paved, the natural flow of water can become a problem. If you don’t plan for how it will drain to the river, you could get flooding.”

Parufeth made a face. “Urgh, you’re right. Though it seems like it would be easier to just send it down into the sewers. We’re already putting water through those channels, after all.”

“And when there’s a blockage during a storm?” Matt watched realization dawn on the Gnome’s face and laughed. “Better to plan ahead than to be swimming in that particular lake, right?”

The Gnome snorted. “I agree, sire.” He straightened up, dusting off his grime encrusted hands. “I’m not sure that we’ll be able to reach all of this that quickly, but the workers are doing well. We’re nearly done with the last of the wells, and the channels for the sewers are doing well, too.”

Matt glanced to the side, where a group of the workers were busy at one of the city’s older wells. They were walling it up, sealing it off from the normal groundwater that had filled it before. There wasn’t anything particularly wrong with relying on that water—as long as one was certain that there was only water coming through the ground. The various cesspits scattered through the city sometimes leaked contagion that came through the soil, causing illness. Better to avoid that problem and just rely on the filtered water coming from the filters and the Cistern.

Of course, it would be even better to just eliminate the cesspits as well. He glanced to the other side and saw workers tearing up the street nearby to dig down beneath it. There was a tunnel there, channeled by Gnomish magic, which is where the brand-new sewers were being built, one channel at a time. It was taking time, but it would be worth the effort in the end.

“Have there been any disruptions? I think I’ve heard that your workers are happy, but there was also something about a riot?”

Paurfeth winced. “Well, as good as they are, sometimes the workers aren’t as… delicate as I’d like them to be. Sometimes they break a few things while they are shifting all that soil, and that’s not going to win us any friends.” The Gnome laughed. “A couple of times we’ve been digging our way under the city and run into a basement or cellar that no one knew about! You can bet the owners weren’t too pleased with seeing us there, either.”

Matt’s eyebrows climbed towards his hair. “Were there any injuries?”

The Gnome waved off his concern. “Please, sire, the boys and girls know how to take care of themselves. Occasionally we get some old totter trying to complain about the noise or the commotion, but even the worst of them aren’t going to pester a full work crew.”

It sounded a bit more reasonable than Matt had learned to expect from people. “You’re saying they haven’t tried anyway?”

Parufeth hesitated and then scratched at the back of his head. “Well, there’s the occasional drunk that gets a bit rough with somebody. The workers are more than willing to set them straight. It really isn’t any trouble at all, sire.”

Troubling. Most of the city seemed to have been happy about the new, purified source of water, but that didn’t mean that everyone was going to continue to be happy about all the changes he was bringing to Redspire. Once the next phase of the project began, he’d be making a lot more of the people unhappy as they were displaced and inconvenienced. How much more disruption would the city take before he started to run into real opposition from the people he was trying to help?

“Make sure you report any more disruptions to the Assembly of the Low Folk. I want to make sure that they are involved. Maybe they can find a way to resolve things without having more problems.” Matt shook his head. Another problem for the pile. Hopefully, another thing that he would be able to deal with once he returned.

Not everyone was quite so unhappy to see him go, however.

“You’re leaving?” Tanya was lounging at her desk, watching the snowflakes dance past her window. They’d been falling since early that afternoon, which meant he had a rough road ahead of him in the morning. “Does that mean someone else is in charge while you’re away?”

Matt blinked. He’d expected protests or maybe even panic, but not nonchalance. Giving her the ability to speak to the servants had obviously helped more than he had hoped. “No. I’m still King, and the Great Council will be able to handle any problems while I’m away.”

She looked back at him, straightening up in her seat. “That’s interesting. Are you taking that magic tutor? What’s his name, Melred?”

“Melren, and no. He’ll be staying here.” The former nobleman might have wanted to visit his homeland, but Matt had noticed that Tanya had been spending a lot of time with the man. Hopefully, he was going to be able to keep her out of trouble while he and his lifeguard were away. “Gorfeld will be here too. If you need anything, you can ask for him to help you.”

“Good.” Tanya nodded, looking back at the book she’d been studying. It was covered in arcane scribblings; Matt wasn’t able to see what it was about, not without trying to peer over her shoulder. She’d undoubtedly take offense to that. “When will you be back?”

He frowned. There was something about the way she asked the question that set him on edge. “It shouldn’t be more than a week or so. Maybe ten days if things go really wrong.”

“Okay. I guess this world doesn’t have anything like phones or email.” She looked back and tapped a finger against her lips. “Though it does seem like you could just use magic somehow. Or maybe send a messenger? Why do you need to go yourself?”

“I need to talk to one of my military commanders. It’s the kind of thing that it’s important to keep private.”

Her eyebrows went up. “I see. Well, I suppose that makes sense.” Then she smiled. “I’ll see you when you get back. Make sure to bring me something nice.”

Matt snorted at the demand. He wasn’t exactly going to Ashpeak on a vacation after all. “I’ll see what I can do.” He forced a smile and turned to go. Supposedly, he was King here; why did it seem like everyone kept demanding promises from him lately?