The bickering among the nobles only got worse as they visited the next raided village. By the time they made camp for the night, only a handful of hours from the border with Wuranis, Matt made a show of trying to be the voice of reason for the delegates. His poor performance, helped along by a few pointed jibes from Tanniven, provided more than enough of a distraction for Gwelfed to slip away into the twilight on her Warg. Nobody seemed to take notice of her as they broke apart into their own small camps, which was more than fine by Matt.
He spent a short while practicing his mantras, but he made no moves to remove his armor. Sleep wasn’t something he was going to get quite yet. Instead, he waited for the night to close in around them.
It was fairly dark when Gwelfed poked her head through the opening of the tent. “We’re ready, sire.”
Matt nodded. “Good.” He stepped out of his tent and glanced to the side. “Mulwan, are you ready?”
The Blackleaf Goblin was already showing a bit of strain, but she nodded. “I am, sire. The illusion will make it look like we are all here. I think I can maintain it until you get back.”
He nodded and headed around the side of the camp. The rest of his lifeguard, except for Mulwan and Rethferd, gathered around him at the edge of the tents. Gorfeld and Tanniven were there as well; the Voice carried his bow, and Gorfeld was idly sharpening the dagger that had become the symbol of all armed freeholders in the Kingdom. They all nodded to each other silently as they waited.
Finally, three more figures approached their waiting group. Rethferd was in the lead, the lifeguard’s expression too hard to see in the shadows. Behind him was the slightly slimmer bulk of Lord Angru, along with Lady Unseln. Both of them were armed with swords, and they looked around at the group of lifeguards warily.
Angru spoke first, his voice a low rumble. “King Matthew. May I ask why—”
Matt held up a hand. “We need silence, Lord Angru. In any case, all will be clear in time. We have some distance to go. If you can follow us?”
He turned, and Gwelfed led the way into the forest. The Orcs hesitated, clearly not entirely trusting the situation, and then eventually they followed as well. It only took a moment for Angru to fall in at Matt’s side. This time, when he spoke, his voice was much quieter. “King Matthew, where are we going?”
“We’re going to kill some bandits, Lord Angru.” Matt smiled. “More accurately, we’re going to kill the mercenaries someone hired to kill my freeholders and some Coalition Elves. They were probably also hired to kill me, but that applies to a lot of people these days.”
The Hard Scythe nobles exchanged a look. It was impossible to read their expressions in the shifting shadows of the forest. There was skepticism in Lady Unseln’s voice when she spoke, however. “How do you know that, sire?”
“They are armed, and they are following us. Gwelfed found their camp a short distance from here. How many were there?”
Gwelfed’s voice drifted back to him. “Forty or fifty, sire.”
Matt nodded. “So, about two for every one of us. I figure we can still take them, though. After all, they don’t think we know they are there.” A few of the lifeguard chuckled softly. Tanniven shifted his grip on his bow and tested the bowstring.
Angru spent a few moments before speaking again. “Why are you bringing us? And why not alert the others?”
For a moment, Matt debated what answer he should give. Then he nodded. “Because you seem to think that I’ve neglected you and your people. I thought it might help bridge the gap if you knew I had helped you find justice for what these mercenaries have done, and what they tried to do.” Then he shook his head. “As for the others, they’ll see what I want them to, when I want them to see it.”
The Orc seemed about to respond when Gwelfed looked back and held up a hand to silence them. They went still for a moment, and then followed her as she stalked forward, her stance wary. All of them grasped their weapons, ready to fight.
It was at that moment that Matt missed his mace more than anything. The weapon hadn’t been anything particularly special, but there was something about having the ability to smash someone to the ground that was comforting when he was headed into a battle. All the same, he had been forced to promise Gorfeld that he would stay out of it, so he kept to the back as they approached the enemy camp.
There was no fire burning, at least not in the open. Apparently, the mercenaries had not wanted to risk having the light seen through the trees. They had set up a collection of tents, however, and a handful of them were standing guard. The sentries obviously weren’t expecting trouble; they walked around the perimeter of the tents as if they were the only people around for miles.
The lifeguards spread out. Balred stayed near Matt and Gorfeld, clearly intending to put himself between his monarch and whatever threats emerged from the camp. Tanniven moved with clearly lethal intent, an arrow settled on his bowstring. Lord Angru and Lady Unseln had engaged in a brief, silent argument before they both stalked forward, their swords in hand. Within a handful of minutes, the camp was surrounded.
For a moment, Matt simply watched the camp. Most of the mercenaries were already bedded down for the night, and the guards were getting lax. He watched one of them lean up against a tree, unaware of the fact that a Goldplain Imp named Wonoll was crouched in the shadows right next to him. Matt watched the mercenary set down his spear and rub his hands, muttering a complaint under his breath about the spring chill.
Then he raised his hands and channeled his magic. He didn’t bother with any of the finesse that he’d been practicing the past few days. All he needed right now was a mudpit large enough to swallow four of the large tents at the center of their camp.
The spell worked like a charm. One moment the tents were there, the next, they and all their occupants had been swallowed in mud several feet deep. He wondered, for only a moment, if any of them even had the chance to wake before they drowned in the mire.
Then he remembered the villages they’d raided, with the newly filled graves outside, and discovered he didn’t much care.
He had told his lifeguards to watch for the disappearance of those tents, and the moment they were buried, the others attacked. Arrows shot out of the night to find marks; blades plunged into unsuspecting sentries. Shouts of alarm turned into helpless gurgles, and half-asleep mercenaries staggered out of their tents only to be met with vengeful steel.
It was over in a heartbeat; none of his lifeguards even had to use much of their magic. Matt released the spell he’d cast, allowing the ground to solidify over the people he’d killed, and sighed. He glanced at Gorfeld. “You think we’ll find what we need?”
The steward nodded. “Yes, sire. A mercenary band like this one? They’ll have kept the contract, I’m sure.”
Matt nodded, and they moved in. Their work wasn’t quite done yet.
The next day dawned early, and Matt felt just as tired as his lifeguard as they went about preparing for the journey that day. Lord Angru and his wife weren’t much fresher, but both of them seemed far too satisfied with life. Matt made a note to ask them to act just a bit less at peace with themselves. It wouldn’t do to give the game away after all.
Fatigue dragged at them enough that the others were ready far faster than his group, but eventually they all got back on the road. The final village that had suffered a raid was just a little while distant, and there was no real risk that they wouldn’t reach it before the day was done.
Matt felt his headache start to throb as he rode, something which steadily eroded his good mood. Even knowing the surprises up ahead, he was having a hard time not scowling at the pace they had set. He knew he had asked for a slightly slower march, just in case his lifeguards needed the time to recover, but still…
Eventually, however, Gwelfed managed to get his attention. The scout gave him a steady look, and he nodded. It was time.
He turned and made sure that Gorfeld was still with him. Then he spurred Nelson a bit further forward until he had drawn alongside Dornal. The Elf looked over at him with a mix of curiosity and contempt. “King Matthew?”
“Delegate Dornal.” He paused to look around, as if making sure no one else was watching. “I have something I need to show you. Alone.”
The Elf’s eyes narrowed for a moment. Matt thought he saw a flicker of triumph in his dark eyes. “Alone?”
Matt shrugged irritably. His headache made it an easy emotion to project. “I’ll have a lifeguard and my steward with me, but they can be trusted. Please, Lord Dornal. It is important.”
Dornal studied him for a moment. Then he nodded. “Of course, King Matthew. Lead the way.”
The soldiers who had been assigned to accompany Dornal made as if to follow, but the Elf gestured for them to stay. He likely didn’t want any witnesses, and it wasn’t as if he was afraid of the bandits in the woods. After all, he’d hired them.
Matt tried not to reveal anything of his own triumph as he led Dornal off the road. A few members of the rest of the party gave them curious looks, but he just waved back at them. Gorfeld came close after him, with Balred riding a little ahead.
They rode through the underbrush for a short distance, leaving the road further and further behind. Dornal grew more and more satisfied as they put more distance between their small group and any potential witnesses. He seemed incredibly sure of himself; the way he looked around the forest made it obvious that he expected his own private army to be watching over him. Matt kept the idle conversation going as they rode, chattering on about the weather and the countryside. As they moved, he kept an eye out for the marker that Gwelfed had left him along their path.
Time passed easily until finally Matt caught sight of a red mark on a nearby tree. He felt himself grow a little more still, and glanced at Gorfeld, who nodded. They rode past the tree, and Matt sighed in relief. He looked back at Dornal, who was finally starting to show signs of impatience. Then he smiled. “We’re just about here, Lord Dornal. If you would dismount and follow me?”
They all left their mounts behind, tying their reins to a nearby tree. Matt led the group a bit further into the woods, looking for a likely spot. They had just reached a small clearing, long out of sight of Nelson and the other mounts, when Dornal abruptly came to a stop. “King Matthew, I think we have gone far enough. What did you want to speak with me about?”
Matt blinked and smiled. “Oh, nothing. I just wanted to have the pleasure of your company this fine morning.” Then he lifted a finger. “Ah, except for one thing. I wanted to know why you were trying to sabotage the peace treaty by helping murder serfs and freeholders. If you would explain that, then we can ride back to the group.”
Dornal stared at him for a moment. Then he shook his head. “I don’t know what you are talking about, King Matthew. Your accusations are ridiculous.”
“Not particularly.” Matt rolled his shoulders to loosen them up. “I know you’ve done it. You know you’ve done it. Why keep pretending?”
The Elf met his eyes for another long moment. Then he smiled, a vicious baring of his teeth that reminded Matt of a wolf. “You make a good point, King Matthew. Why pretend indeed?”
He put his fingers to his lips and blew. The sound of a high whistle sounded through the woods. It resounded in the air for a few more moments, and Dornal lowered his hand from his face, revealing another fierce smile.
Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.
Nothing answered his call.
The confidence and triumph in Dornal’s face slowly drained away. Matt watched him for a few more moments, letting the dread build. A part of him felt a little bad about making the Elf wait, but he’d done far worse for far lesser reasons already.
Matt began to circle around the Elf, trying to make sure the noble couldn’t run for his greatelk. “Nobody is coming, Lord Dornal. I’m afraid your mercenaries are… indisposed.”
Dornal pivoted slowly to face him, his hand going to the sword at his side. Balred put a hand to his own sword, and Gorfeld drew his knife. The Elf gave them both a disdainful snarl and then looked back at Matt. “What happened, then? You killed them?”
The question held an almost laughable level of accusation in it. Matt shrugged. “They had murdered my freeholders. You know the penalty for that.” Then he raised his eyebrows. “Of course, that’s why you had them target my freeholders, wasn’t it? It was something personal. Something you wanted to draw my attention, the way I told Paralus it would.”
Dornal’s eyes narrowed. The Elf spat on the ground and drew his sword at last. Balred drew his own in response, and Matt immediately began to construct a spell that would trap the man in a column of mud. “You and your precious freeholders. Such a thin, transparent bribe to win the loyalty of the masses. What do you care about the way you’re undermining the natural order of things, if it wins you a bit of power?”
“You and I have a different perspective on the natural order of things, Dornal.” Matt watched as the Elf began to circle. Dornal’s sword seemed to sing slightly as it waved through the air; it was sharp enough that when it brushed against the wild grass, it cut through without pausing. He didn’t want to think about the damage it could do to him if the Elf reached him; he really, really missed his mace. Or his pistol, still abandoned back on Earth. “Why should you care about what I do in my Kingdom? I would have left you and your Alterians in peace. Why not just concern yourself with your own problems?”
The Elf growled a foul curse. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you? You’re too much of a threat to let grow. Your ideas are a disease that promises to infect whoever you touch. Even Paralus seems to believe in your ‘new ideals’. Can you imagine what would happen if we allow these things to spread?”
Matt snorted. “Of course. Your serfs might have actually started to wonder why they support your pathetic royalty, right? That’s why you are coming after me now?”
Dornal’s snarl grew worse. He stepped forward, his sword still ready to strike. “You’ve already killed too many, destroyed too much. The Alliance is tearing themselves apart to try to destroy you; half their royal lines have been cut short by your cruelty. The Noble Races are falling to pieces too; by the time they are done killing each other, their lands will be ripe for you to conquer. I will not allow you to pervert this world’s true order any further. I’m going to kill you, and bring your terrible reign to an end.”
Balred stepped forward to meet the Elf, his stance steady and confident. “Not today, Elf.”
With a harsh bark of laughter, Dornal broke off his hateful stare to glare at the lifeguard. “Oh, so the outcast Leaffall bastard decides to show his mettle? Of course you’d serve him. After all, if he is right and nobility is pointless, then perhaps it wouldn’t be so harsh a loss that your family cast you out.”
The Orc’s muscles bunched along his back and arms. His voice was tight as he assumed a guardian stance. “You talk too much.”
Dornal laughed again, the woods ringing with the cold, cruel sound. “Is that so?”
A heartbeat later, an arrow whistled out of the woods. The Elf’s eyes widened. He turned, his sword coming up, but it was too late. Matt saw the arrow strike the man in the side, punching into his torso between two ribs. Dornal stayed standing for another moment, staring down at the feathered shaft in clear shock.
Then he coughed blood and stumbled forward. The strength went out of his limbs; his sword vanished into the grass as the Elf fell to his knees.
Matt looked past Dornal to where Tanniven was stepping out from the trees. The Voice looked incredibly satisfied. He called out with a bright, clear shout. “Yes! You do!”
Shaking his head, Matt stepped forward. He’d hoped to take the Elf alive, but even a simple glance told him the wound was mortal. At least he had other evidence to convince the others, but it was still a shame he couldn’t interrogate the man for long.
Dornal still stared up at him with undisguised hatred, even with eyes that were dull from shock. “You fool. You’ve broken… the treaty. Now the others will all… see you as you are.”
Matt shook his head. “I hate to disappoint you, but you’re in the Broken Hills now.” He smiled. “The border can be so hard to see sometimes, can’t it? And as you probably already know, assassins might not work in your territory, but in mine…”
The Elf snarled; more blood stained his lips. “No matter. You’ll all die soon… enough. The Army of Heroes… is coming for you. They will sweep… all of you away. All of you…”
Matt watched as the light faded from the Elf’s eyes. Dornal slumped forward into the grass and lay still.
He waited a few more moments, making sure that Dornal didn’t have one more trick up his sleeve. Then he sighed and stood up. Whatever the Army of Heroes was, it didn’t sound good. Obviously, it was something the Alliance had planned, which meant he needed to get back to Bridgeton, as soon as possible.
Tanniven had joined them as Dornal had spoken his last. The Voice seemed utterly unrepentant at what he’d done. If anything, he seemed even more self-satisfied than normal as he recovered the noble’s sword from the grass. “Well now, that was a tidy end to things, wasn’t it?”
Matt snorted. “Sure. We’ll have to see if the others agree with you.” He considered Dornal’s body for a moment, wondering if he should bury it the way he had his enemies on the battlefield. Then he shook his head. The noble had conspired with murderers, betrayed the peace, and died like an animal. Why not leave him to an animal’s burial too?
He turned to where they had left the mounts. “Let’s go. The day is still young.”
They rejoined the party on the road a short time later; Angru had called a halt a short time after Matt had left, all according to Matt’s plans. The Hard Scythe leader looked absurdly satisfied as he noted the absence of Dornal, but the others from the Coalition seemed uneasy. Matt simply waved to call them over and waited until they gathered around him.
When they had done so, Matt spoke in a steady, even voice that he hoped betrayed no fatigue or emotion. “I have good news to announce. Last night, we found the source of the raiders who attacked our villages.”
The delegates shifted in their saddles, clearly taken aback. Paralus was the one who spoke up first. “The raiders who struck at the Hard Scythes, King Matthew, or the ones who struck at ours?”
“Both.” Matt gestured to Gorfeld, who pulled out a roll of parchment. “All of the attacks were carried out by a band of mercenaries that had been hired to impersonate both sides. My lifeguard and I destroyed them last night, and recovered their contract from their camp. You are free to inspect it.”
Gorfeld handed it over to the delegate from Wuranis, who practically snatched the parchment out of the Imp’s hands. As the Elf set about reading it, Matt continued. “These mercenaries were also hired to attack our groups once we finished our inspection at the next village and parted ways. I believe the goal of their contract was to restart hostilities between the Kingdom and the Coalition.”
The Wuranis delegate finished reading the contract and snarled. He handed it over to the Knight delegate. “This contract was signed by Delegate Dornal! Where is that snake? I would have him answer for this… this outrage! He has betrayed our alliance.”
“Delegate Dornal will not be rejoining us. Ever.” Matt delivered the announcement with all of the weight it deserved, and the assembled nobles abruptly went still. He focused on Paralus, who seemed far steadier than the others, though he had still gone a bit pale. “Ambassador, you should let the Coalition know that there are some dangerous loopholes in our treaty concerning the assassination of visitors to each side’s territory and the hire of mercenaries.”
Paralus nodded, and understanding filled his eyes. “Yes, King Matthew, I will.”
Matt nodded easily. He let iron fill his voice again, the kind that could have scratched battle steel. “You should also take one more message back to your nations. There was a wise man in my world who said that a ruler must wish to be both feared and loved, but if he had to choose, it was better to be feared and not loved than loved and not feared. I wanted to be loved among you for bringing peace… but if something like this happens again, I’ll settle for making you afraid of the consequences that will follow. Do you all understand?”
The other delegates had leaned back slightly in their saddles. Even Paralus looked more worried now; the Wizard swallowed before he answered. “I will tell them, King Matthew.”
“Then I believe our time here is at an end. Those who wish to see the mercenary camp for themselves can find it back near where we rested last night; my scout Gwelfed will lead you there before she rejoins me.” Matt turned his mount towards the Broken Hills and nodded to the delegates. “For now, however, justice has been done, and I have other concerns to attend to. Farewell and good fortune to all of you.”
His lifeguards gathered around him, together with a now-grinning Lord Angru and the other two Hard Scythe Orcs. Matt nodded to the Coalition’s delegates and then turned back towards his own lands. His mind was already on what he needed to do once he reached Harvesthold. The Alliance was coming, and he needed to be ready for them.
Gwelfed and Paralus rejoined Matt’s party late that evening, having obviously ridden hard to catch up. The Ambassador had uneasily reported that the other Coalition delegates had mostly accepted the idea of placing the blame with the mercenaries, though there had been some discussion about Matt’s ‘execution’ of an Alterian representative.
“Not that they blame you, of course. It’s more a concern about how the rest of the Alterians will react.” Paralus shook his head. “I still cannot believe that the Elves would risk the treaty over something like this. It seems so reckless. Even the other Elves were shocked that Dornal had gone so far.”
Matt was still thinking over the Elf’s last words. A particularly ugly idea had reared itself as he’d ridden towards Harvesthold, and he was still trying to figure out if he was just being paranoid. He sighed. “Was Dornal a radical? Someone on the fringes of Alterian politics?”
Paralus paused as if he was thinking the question over. “No. I believe he was fairly well connected within the Princedom’s Court.” He grimaced. “In fact, the Princedom might protest rather strongly over what happened to him. They would try to put pressure on the rest of the Coalition to respond.”
He looked at the Wizard with a raised eyebrow. “Will that be a problem?”
The Ambassador shrugged. “I doubt it, myself. The Wuranis and Simarenal are obviously not going to favor any suggestions from Alterians now, and the Order of the Bear isn’t likely to go along with anything that seems… dishonorable. My own nation is obviously opposed to any such notions, but it is hard to guess what the Rusted Clans will do.”
“Unfortunately, I don’t know if that means the Alterians will stop.” Matt shook his head. “Hiring those mercenaries was unlikely to be a personal decision, and if his actions were endorsed by the rest of the Princedom…”
“I see.” Paralus looked away, as if examining the forested hills around him would give him more answers. “You’re likely right, but I don’t know what else they could do. Their hands are bound by the peace treaty, after all.”
Matt nodded. “Right. They can’t send assassins to me, any raiding would be rather suspicious now, and using their military to attack me would be penalized heavily.”
The Wizard blinked. He looked a little uneasy as he answered. “Yes, that’s correct.”
A feeling of impending dread swept over Matt. “Does the Coalition have a similar treaty with the Alliance?”
Paralus frowned. “No. Most of our members do have cease fires with them, and there is some trade between those of us who share a border, although the Circle of Echoes has closed theirs since the… incident.”
Matt grimaced. “And the Alterians share a border with the Onyx Clans, and the Knights of the Raven. Which means if they wanted to, they could sign an agreement to allow the Alliance to march an army through their territory.”
The Ambassador went still. “That’s possible, but why… The other members of the Coalition are already going to protest what happened with the raiders. Why would they push things even farther by giving such access to the Alliance?”
He grimaced. “Dornal seemed very disturbed by the concept of freeholders. Perhaps the Alterians feel the same way. Maybe the Alliance threatened to invade them, too. All I know is that he mentioned something called the Army of Heroes before he died—and I haven’t seen any sign of anything like that anywhere in the south.”
Gorfeld spoke up from beside him, his voice remarkably calm. “They could be marching towards the eastern front, sire. It’s possible that once we reach Harvesthold we’ll hear more.”
“True, but I don’t think that is going to be how it worked.” Matt shook his head. “They wouldn’t assemble a force big enough to have its own title and then throw it somewhere I’m not. I don’t think they can anymore. And half the reason that Dornal set up this whole charade seems to have been to pull me here.”
The steward nodded, though he still seemed inclined to argue. “They could be headed for the Sortenmoors. For all we know, they’ve already crossed the Blackstone.”
Matt shook his head. “The only crossing they have left would be at Bridgeton, and taking that place would cost them dearly. They could try to ferry themselves across in another spot, but trying that would slow them down and make their supply lines vulnerable until Bridgeton is taken. If they knew all that and wanted to avoid it…”
He grimaced. It all fit too well. “They would only need to persuade the Alterians to let them try it. It would make some of their supply lines a little long, but they would be on a route that I couldn’t block, and they could come at the Kingdom from a direction we weren’t expecting and couldn’t prepare well for. Best of all, they’ve managed to put me here, so they wouldn’t need to pay the price for ignoring my location.”
Paralus looked stricken, and Gorfeld had gone quiet. The Wizard was whispering to himself. “This is impossible. The Coalition has endured for decades. Why would they do this? It could destroy us.”
Matt thought for a moment. If the Coalition fell apart, there would probably be a lot of consequences for it in the future. He wasn’t sure what would happen to the treaty in that case, and what it would mean if the members of the Coalition started to war amongst each other. Now, though, he couldn’t afford to worry about any of that, not with a new threat on the literal horizon. “Paralus. I need permission to send two envoys to Coalition territory. You can give me permission for that, right?”
The Wizard appeared to snap himself out of the haze of shock he was moving through. He looked at Matt in incomprehension. “I… yes. I have that ability, though the nations you visit could still expel them.”
Matt turned in his saddle. “Gwelfed! Mulwan! I have a job for you.” Both Goblins were by his side in moments. “You’re going on a visit to the Alterian Princedom. Find out if the Alliance is moving troops through their territory, and then report back to Harvesthold. Stay quiet, see what you can, and come back safe.”
The Goblins both nodded, and within moments both they and their Wargs were headed away from the group, vanishing into the forest in what felt like a heartbeat. Paralus watched them go with a numb expression, and Matt forced himself to turn back to the path that led to Harvesthold. He’d know what he was in for soon enough. What he needed to do now was brace himself.