Matt watched as the wall came down.
It had belonged to a building that had stood near the palace in Redspire for decades as part of a nobleman’s mansion. Other, less prestigious buildings had already been torn down to clear the space nearest the palace, with their residents either going to the rapidly growing tent city outside the walls, or crowding into other parts of the city.
Not that everyone had chosen to stay in the capital, of course. With the winter coming to an end, and the danger of war retreating from the north and east, some of the refugees that had been pushed into Redspire were starting to filter out of the city. He’d already heard of large caravans heading out to repopulate villages in the northern Spirelands, or the High Imp territory to the east. Now that he had crushed Lady Itrelia’s rebellion and forced the Noble Races to sue for peace, the people of his Kingdom didn’t have to worry about facing enemies that would threaten to burn their fields and their homes. No one wanted to be thrown out into the dangers of the wilds.
Another wall fell, and he snorted softly to himself. Right now, one of the biggest threats to his people’s homes was his own building plans. Now that Parufeth had finished building the sewage and water systems for the capital, he had a new set of goals in mind—and unfortunately those would require space.
Parufeth, the Gnome foreman in charge of his building crews, came over to stand next to him, giving him a respectful nod. The man was filthy, as usual, covered in the dirt and sweat that marked his profession. He seemed happier lately, now that Matt had asked him to do more than pave roads and dig underground channels for water. “We’re ahead of schedule, sire. It seems a lot of the folks here were already expecting to need to move. We haven’t had nearly as much trouble as the Maiden had clearing the space for her project.”
“That’s… good to hear.” Matt shook his head. The reminder that Tanya had decided to build her massive eyesore while he was away did not help his mood. It hadn’t helped put anyone at ease in the city either, though at least his officers had kept things from getting out of control. Her art museum was still in the process of being built—using stone instead of brick had consequences, apparently—but the Imp stonemasons had made fairly decent progress. Parufeth was obviously excited to show them what his own construction crews could accomplish. Matt just wished there was a bit more distance between the two projects; the last thing he needed was for the competition to turn physical.
At the very least, his current project would be far more useful for the city. For years, the Crown Guard and any other friendly visiting forces had been stationed in a crowded, dingy set of barracks sandwiched between some local refuse pits and a public latrine. The smell had been… unique, and the rooms bad enough that any High Clan forces had used the unpleasantness as an excuse to kick serfs out of their houses and stay elsewhere when they were allowed to visit.
When he’d started his reign, Matt had promised the troops better accommodations. Now he intended to deliver on that promise.
The New Arsenal would be nearly four times larger than the current garrison building. He’d planned it out to have a similar shape, a four-sided building with a substantial parade ground in the middle. At each of the four corners, there would be towers built into it that could act as watchtowers for the entire garrison. A gatehouse would stand at the front entrance, giving his troops the chance to fort up inside the structure if they needed to, giving them the protection of solid portcullises and battlements.
Of course, the larger size would mostly be invested into the barracks for the troops themselves. The Arsenal would rise to at least four stories, giving the building plenty of space for troops. General rooms would take up the sides of the building, while officers’ quarters and briefing rooms would be set up in the rearmost structure. There would even be plenty of space for a section of stables and a large storage area on the bottom floors, too.
All told, he expected the Arsenal to be able to handle close to forty banners of troops, together with their mounts, supplies, training gear, and other necessities. It would have indoor plumbing and a water supply that could be refreshed from the Great Cistern through manual pumps. Instead of a smelly, forgotten place too miserable to bear, he’d have a new command center for his military, with fresh living space and a chance to rebuild. New recruits could train in a space that didn’t smell like a dung heap, and their officers could plan and strategize without worrying about whatever fresh plague the cesspits would spawn in the summer.
Given the beating his forces had taken over the past few months, it would be a boost to morale that he desperately needed. The entire Kingdom would benefit from it.
As long as he could build it before he ran out of money, of course.
Matt glanced at the foreman, only hesitating a moment before he spoke. “How long until the building is ready, Parufeth?”
The Gnome glanced at him. Then he looked back at the rubble that his workers were continuing to pull down and cart out of the city. “Hard to say, sire. I think we’ll be able to stick to the schedule, as long as all our crews are able to focus on the project. I’d call it eight, maybe nine weeks?”
Matt nodded. He hadn’t expected the answer to be all that different, but he’d needed to ask. “Good. Let me know if there is anything that I can do to help. The Council and the Voices should all know about how crucial this project is, and I expect them to help you now.”
Parufeth nodded, though there was a look of concern in his eyes. Matt’s relationship with the Council had grown strained since the Battle of Seven Princes. Some of the smarter nobles were starting to look at the Kingdom’s finances and question exactly how long all the spending could continue. Others were simply felt safer now that Matt had eliminated so many of the threats to their lives—which, of course, meant they felt secure in restarting their own plots for power and wealth.
Fortunately, Voice Girtun had tamped down on some of those attempts to garner influence. He wasn’t the most political animal—the Orc had been a blacksmith before the Assembly had chosen him, after all—but he was loyal, and he was dedicated to his responsibilities as the representative of the freeholders. When the Council overreached, Matt had learned he could count on the man to push back.
Unfortunately, Redspire’s second Voice had died a short while ago, and the Assembly was still debating their replacement. Matt hoped it would be someone of a similar experience and wisdom as Wokneth, the Imp who had occupied the position before, but something told him he wasn’t that lucky.
Then again, there was no point in borrowing trouble. He had problems enough to deal with, after all.
Matt shook his head and looked back at Parufeth, who was still standing as if he was waiting for instructions. “You’re all doing well, Parufeth. Again, if you have any questions about the plans I’m leaving for you…”
Parufeth was smiling. “I think you’ve given us a clear picture of what to do, sire. Don’t worry. You can count on us.”
The reassurance helped ease the headache pounding in Matt’s head. He nodded and stuck out a hand. Parufeth only hesitated a moment before the Gnome shook it; the gesture hadn’t existed in the Kingdom before Matt had arrived. Now it was seen as a symbol of the progress the Kingdom had made over the early months of Matt’s reign. Thousands of people he’d freed from serfdom and saved from the ravages of war were embracing it, just like they’d embraced him.
It was enough to warm his heart a little, even as the cold breezes of early spring blew down the streets of Redspire. Now all Matt had to do was make sure he lasted long enough to reach the end of his reign, and things would have turned out great.
With a few more idle words of praise, Matt turned and headed back towards the palace. His lifeguards, who were diligently searching the nearby area for assassins or spies, moved with him. He’d almost gotten used to them by now. Being watched and guarded nearly every moment of his life had that effect. It was amazing how one’s perspective could shift after less than half a year of life as a tyrant.
None of them spoke to Matt as he walked into the palace and headed for his rooms. He had plenty of work to do, and the lifeguard seemed more interested in scaring the occasional servant in his path than interrupting his thoughts. It was a habit that Matt appreciated. There was far too much to think about, after all.
Not everyone had that perspective, of course.
“You’re leaving again? Already?”
The near-shrill, incredulous demand rang through the palace corridor behind him, and Matt winced. He turned, with what he hoped seemed like regal authority and demeanor, to face the source of the noise. “Hello, Tanya. Good to see you again so early.”
Tanya Richardson, the so-called Maiden of Art, was glaring at him as if she did not share his opinion of their meeting. She was the only other human in this world, having been dragged here to be a distraction for him by the coalition of nations to the west of the Kingdom. Given how much trouble she caused, Matt still wondered just how successful that particular gamble had been for his supposed partners in peace.
He was still musing over that question when Tanya stalked a little closer to him, her finger pointed at him like a blade. “I just heard about it from Marisen. They’re saying you’re going to march out tomorrow.”
Matt nodded. He tried not to glare at the Goblin servants that stood off to the side. When Tanya had first arrived at the palace, he’d assigned her a couple of interpreters and companions to help her. They’d quickly started to take her side on everything, though, to the point where he considered them her spies. “That’s right. The sooner I can head south, the better.”
“That doesn’t make any sense. Didn’t you win? Everyone says that Teblas guy is dead.”
He tried not to sigh. Instead, he forced himself to speak patiently. “We won, yes, but that doesn’t mean the war with the Alliance of Light is over. There are still plenty of people who are trying to kill us.”
Stolen story; please report.
“Trying to kill you, you mean.” Tanya rolled her eyes. “Look, can’t you send somebody else? That’s why you have those Margrave guys, isn’t it? Send one of them.”
Matt felt his headache come back. “They’re busy at the moment.” More accurately, Morteth was fighting a stalemate against the Alliance forces that were already in the Copper Hills, while Grufen was finishing the task of commanding the forces in Winterfast, which had once been a hotbed of rebellion and treachery. Karve was technically available, but Matt needed him to watch over Redspire and try to rebuild the armies that had been mauled during the Battle of Seven Princes in the Grim Hollows. All three of his Margraves were busy doing things that were crucial to the safety of the Kingdom.
Technically, Matt could have taken any one of those positions, but it would have been the wrong move. After all, he was the King of this place, and his people would expect him to confront the dangers facing them head on, whether or not he wanted to do so.
“I still think you should stay here, not go off to this ‘moors’ place.” Tanya waved her hand. “Aren’t you worried I’ll get ahead of you in magic?”
Matt grimaced. Tanya had been taking advantage of her opportunity to monopolize Melren’s time. The former noble was turning into a fairly decent teacher when it came to magic, but Matt couldn’t exactly use that to his benefit if he was busy marching to war.
“I have other things to worry about, Tanya. Now, if you’ll excuse me.”
He turned and started back to his chambers, hoping that she would take the hint. The last thing he needed at the moment was an argument with her.
His hopes were in vain.
“Look, I just don’t understand why you have to throw yourself back into it again. Didn’t they swear some kind of death oath against you? Wouldn’t that mean—”
Matt came to a dead halt. He turned and looked Tanya right in the eye. “I don’t think I’ve mentioned a death oath to anyone, actually.”
Tanya blinked. She suddenly avoided his eyes. “I just heard a rumor about it.”
“Sure you did.” Matt glanced at her servants, who seemed to be just as determined not to look at him. It probably hadn’t been the Goblins; Melren was more likely to have let it slip. The Imp was far too fond of his students, and he’d been there when Matt had asked about the Oath of Enmity. Tanya was far too good at ferreting out secrets. He just had to hope that the rumor hadn’t spread much further. “Come on. We’ll talk about what you have and haven’t heard once we are alone.”
She seemed to get a little apprehensive about the comment, but Matt simply gestured for her to walk with him. Miraculously, she didn’t seem to feel the need to complain any more until they had reached the chambers that served as his office.
Matt nodded to the lifeguards that were waiting there; they joined the rest of his protectors and continued to scan the corridor for any approaching threats. A handful accompanied him inside, just in case some invisible assassin was lurking within.
Fortunately, the only person waiting for him was Gorfeld, his steward. The Imp had been the one who had dragged him into this world, and the one who had convinced him to take control of the Kingdom, for all their sakes. Back then, he had seemed far more intimidated by his new monarch. Now he simply raised an eyebrow as Tanya followed Matt through the door. “A problem, sire?”
Matt shook his head as he walked over to his desk. “No. At least I hope not.” He glanced at Tanya, who seemed unusually preoccupied with one of the chairs. “It just seems like someone has managed to hear about the damn Oaths already. I just thought it would be wise to lock that sort of rumor down before it went much further.”
Gorfeld went a bit pale. His eyes darted towards Tanya and back. “We did know it would be known eventually, sire. It was only a matter of time.”
“I know.” Matt fell into his chair with a sigh. “I was just hoping for more time.”
Tanya finally gave up her attempt to look innocent, looking at Matt directly. “I don’t understand what the big deal is. Why are you trying to keep it a secret? They were trying to kill you already, weren’t they?”
Matt exchanged a look with Gorfeld before he answered. He’d asked a similar question, back when the letter from the Order of Echoes had arrived, warning him of what the leaders of the Alliance of Light had done. “They were, sure. The Oath means things have gotten a lot worse, though.”
She snorted. “How? It seemed like they were pretty bad already.”
Gorfeld cleared his throat. “My liege, if I could explain?” Matt gestured for the Imp to go ahead, and Gorfeld continued in a somewhat steady voice. “While we were at war with the Alliance of Light before, an Oath of Enmity is something entirely different.”
The Imp paused, as if he was feeling a little lost. “Wars are something that happen frequently. So do ceasefires and temporary alliances. Things shift and change, but they are rarely as…permanent…as an Oath.”
Tanya was frowning now. “So the Oath is something worse than a war.”
Matt nodded, putting a hand over his eyes. He tried to massage the bridge of his nose to lessen the ache behind his eyes. “Much worse. It’s basically total war. For eternity.”
Her eyes widened. “That… seems bad.”
“It’s not entirely accurate to describe it that way, sire.” Gorfeld gave him an exasperated look. “The Oath simply demands that those who take it devote their entire strength to destroying the target of the Oath. Those who haven’t taken the Oath are free to ignore its effects.”
Tanya’s frown grew a little. “Okay. So that means there’s just a few people involved, right? Once they’re gone, the war can end.”
Matt dropped the hand from his face. He gave her a weary gesture. “The people involved are the Kings and Queens of the entire Alliance of Light. Along with their Heirs, and the heirs of the Heirs.”
“Oh.” Tanya hesitated, as if thinking it over. “That’s bad.”
“Yeah. You could say that.” Matt sat up and leaned forward onto the desk in front of him. “Basically, we can’t just break a few of their armies this time to win, the way we did for the Noble Races and the rebels. The rulers of the Alliance of Light have made it so that we have to kill all of them to end the war this time, otherwise they will keep throwing army after army at us until they bury us.”
Gorfeld nodded. “That is correct, sire. As long as those rulers are alive, they won’t stop. They can’t stop; the Oath itself would be an agonizing weight on their soul if they gave anything less than their best to fulfill it.”
The headache was starting to get really bad now. “Which means, Tanya, that I’d have to completely destroy them to make it stop. Oaths aren’t how wars are declared here. It’s how they announce they’re going to burn entire peoples out of the world.”
Tanya’s eyes were as wide as they could go now. She stared at him in silence for a long moment, and when she spoke, her voice was faint. “Oh.”
“Yeah.” Matt gave her a half-hearted smile. “So I’d appreciate it if you didn’t mention the thing again in public. If the rest of the Kingdom hears about it… well, they probably aren’t going to react very well.”
“It would be a disaster.” Gorfeld grimaced and shook his head. “The Oath of Enmity is like something out of a storybook. They are usually sworn in a tragedy, and end in misery for all involved. I cannot understand what would have driven them to such lengths.”
Matt sighed. “It doesn’t matter, does it? We aren’t exactly in the best position to ask them, even if they would answer.” He looked at Tanya. “Anyway, that makes it all the more important that I head south and get ready for them. The more time I leave them to prepare, the worse this war is going to get.”
Tanya was still staring at him. Then her eyes narrowed. “This Oath thing. Was it against the Kingdom, or just against you?”
The question caught Matt a little off guard. He looked at Gorfeld, who shrugged helplessly. “There’s not a lot of di—”
“I thought so. It’s you they want to kill, not just the Kingdom.” She stabbed her finger at him again, her eyes blazing with anger. “Which makes it even stupider for you to head right where they can find you and kill you. Why aren’t you trying to run away or hide? Or at least stay here, where you have plenty of soldiers around to protect you?”
Matt grimaced. “I can’t hide in Redspire forever, Tanya. They’ll come for me here anyway, eventually.”
“So make them work for it, at least. If you go south, they’ll almost have to…” Tanya’s words trailed off, and her eyes widened again. “Oh, you idiot. You want them to try and kill you again. Are you seriously using yourself as bait?”
That question hadn’t been one he’d expected out of Tanya. He saw Gorfeld suddenly stand up straight and stare at him with a shocked expression. Even the lifeguards seemed to have been startled out of their professional blank stares. Matt winced. “I’d be perfectly safe. It’s not like they would instantly know where I was, after all, and if they tried—”
“It wouldn’t be an ‘if’, sire. The Oath would compel them to try to harm you, no matter what the risk to their plans would be.” Gorfeld paused for a moment, looking back and forth between them. “If you are not prepared for their attacks, it would be a terrible risk, sire. When you asked me about traveling to the Sortenmoors, I did not realize that you planned to expose yourself to this kind of danger.”
Matt gave his steward a level look. “This isn’t the first time I’ve faced a risk, Gorfeld. I was probably in more danger when I went on the raids against the Noble Races. Actually, the only time I got seriously wounded was when I was walking around this palace.”
“Respectfully, sire, that was when you were facing traitors and unprepared caravans. You weren’t dangling yourself like a worm on a hook and hoping to catch an army of the Alliance of Light.”
Tanya pointed at Gorfeld. “See? I’m not the only one who thinks this plan is crazy. Besides, what do you think is going to happen to me if you go off and get yourself killed? It’s not like the Alliance of Light would want to give me the chance to finish my museum. I’d probably be lucky if they just threw me in a dungeon somewhere.”
He grunted. It was something he had worried about. “If the worst happens, Ambassador Paralus has instructions to get you back to the Western Coalition. They can try and get you home from there.”
Absolute fury twisted Tanya’s expression, but Gorfeld spoke first. His voice was low and cautious. “Are you certain that would keep her safe, sire? The Oath was supposed to target both you and your allies. Even if she returns to your world, they may still pursue her there.”
Matt felt his jaw clench at the thought of the Alliance crossing worlds just to hunt down people attached to him. “At the very least she can try and get help there, even if the Kingdom falls. She deserves a chance to survive this.”
“So do you, cowboy king.” Tanya’s voice could have chipped ice. A cold breeze stirred through the room, and Matt gave her a wary look. She was getting a bit too comfortable with her magic at this point. Maybe he would have a talk with Melren about slowing her progress. “It’s not like you asked to be the king of this place, and as nice as everyone is here, there has to be a better way to take care of everyone without trying to get yourself killed like an idiot.”
He felt his temper flare. “I’m not trying to get myself killed, Tanya. I’m taking a lot of soldiers with me to make sure that doesn’t happen, and the whole reason why I’m doing this in the first place is because most of the other things I could do end up killing us in the long run anyways. So if you want to help, you’re going to need to find a better way than complaining about what I’m doing.”
She gave him a look that might have been able to freeze him solid without using any magic at all. “Fine. I will.” The lifeguards shifted uneasily in the corners of the room, but she ignored them. “Did you need me for anything else?”
Matt returned her glare with one of his own. “No. Sorry to have inconvenienced you.” She bowed her head slightly as if accepting his false apology and then stormed out of the room. He spent a few more moments glaring at the closed door before Gorfeld cleared his throat. “Yes, Gorfeld?”
He’d almost expected the steward to look amused at yet another argument between the two Humans, but the Imp seemed somber as he spoke. “You know that even if they kill you, they will still try to destroy the Kingdom as well, sire. Please do not take any unnecessary risks.”
The Imp started for the door and then paused. He looked back at Matt with a curious half-smile. “And if Fortune gives you the chance to kill them… do not hesitate. They’ve chosen this course, and our people need you. We aren’t done with you yet, and you aren’t done with us. Remember that.”
Before Matt could react, the steward was through the door and gone. He spent a moment staring at the door, wondering exactly how he’d gotten to the point where magically enforced death oaths and frustratingly loyal underlings were even a thing he’d needed to worry about.
Then he turned back to the parchments scattered across his desk. If he was really leaving, he needed to set things in order before he left. The last thing he needed was to come back victorious and find out that half the city had burned down in his absence.