Lord Liam Green sat in the command tower of Sintra, checking his numbers for the third time. Two weeks had passed since the day his caravan arrived in Sintra, bringing the requisite manpower and food to save the city, or so Arlet had initially believed.

The numbers in front of Liam screamed a different story, one with too many mouths. City granaries marked as full in ledgers, stood empty in practice. Emergency storehouses that should have been packed to bursting with dried vittles lay barren, pointing a golden finger towards and missing embezzlers. Merchants and aldermen who came up missing shortly before the portals had hit.

These truths had recently been uncovered after a spat of confusion. When wagons full of fresh peaches arrived at a warehouse marked ‘empty’ in the ledgers. Upon the wagon’s arrival they found the warehouse burnt to ashes around ten chests of gold coins. Which survived the flames.

But the Petrans —honest to a fault— left the coins there, thinking only to save their precious dried medusa strips. Thus they diverted the shipment to the nearest warehouse, finding it entirely empty and parking inside. When the Petran farmers reported this minor adjustment to Arlet they recorded the delivery in the corresponding ledger, one that read as ‘fully loaded, do not touch for five years’. The Captain had waited until the Petrans left before he flew into a city wide survey, taking the time to personally visit each storehouse, confirming basic details that should have been beneath his notice.

“Sir.” chorused the knights behind Liam as they saluted the arrival of their captain, accepting the new ledgers and dedicating a new table to the tally.

Arlet must have completed his inventory of the city and Liam did not want to meet old chiron on his arse. Liam set the parchment ledger down, standing and stretching his stiff back. Nyota had long since tired of watching him read, retiring to rest, the same went for Rhendal, saying ‘numbers are for nobles’ on his way out.

“Alright, if you can’t read a ledger, get out.” Said Arlet, his tone carrying a terse quality rarely heard from the champion.

Jenkins tried to sneak out with the other Sintrans, making it all the way to the door before Arlet spoke again.

“Good man, thanks for getting the door Jenkins.” He said, not turning around to face Jenkins.

“Caught with my dick in the cookie jar… I swear, Arlet must be a father.” Muttered Jenkins, closing and barring the door behind his last soldier.

“Lord Liam. I have the new tally of our supplies. I- well… Look for yourself m’lord.” Said Arlet.

An open ledger passed from champion to lord, covered in dates and numbers that required his attention for several moments, making Liam wish pivot tables existed.

Unfortunately, all he had was microsoft excel, medieval edition. Now including freshly killed animal skins!

Parchment was far too expensive and rare to use for calculations, so he had been forced to use a piece of slate and chalk, contrasting the new ledger to his slate he hmmed and hawed at the numbers for an uncomfortably long duration.

“Hmm… You confirmed these numbers yourself?”

“Counted them with my own two eyes, Eldred and Jenkins then double and triple checked m’lord.” Arlet’s answer was clear and direct, an indication that he had practiced his answer.

“I see. Adding the supplies we brought from Petra… Carry the one… Divide by the number of people we need to feed…” Liam jotted some math down on the slate and frowned at his results.

He hoped that putting on a show would somehow dampen the news; it did not.

“These numbers are an eighth of what Sintra should have. In short, critically low, we will starve before the first snow falls… But you both knew that…” Said Liam, tapping the new ledger ominously.

“Literal tonnes of food is missing, if every Sintran filled their cellars and pantries to bursting we would still have more food than this.” Growled Liam, feeling like a cat surrounded by mouse covered glue traps.

Food lay within their reach beyond the walls, yet going out and getting it permanently closed more mouths than it filled. His people were counting on him. Rumors of the “Lightning Lord Liam” were spreading since his arrival. Perpetuated in no small part by the hardened Petrans, and sustained by Liam’s occasional portal interdictions. From his vantage point in the command post he blasted portals with his lightning. An excessive display of power, but one that was necessary conditioning for the three mages, especially Nyota.

“Forgive me m’lord I have no answers.” Arlet bowed deeply, hanging his head in shame.

“Get up! Unless you have a dozen warehouses hidden in your pants there is no reason for you to bow your head.” Said Liam, lifting Arlet with a hand on his shoulder.

On que, Jenkins cut in. “A dozen warehouses long? Arlet, you’re making me blush! But… I have a suggestion, if I may speak my lord.” Said Sergeant Jenkins, remembering his manners a few seconds too late.

Liam rolled his eyes, “Speak freely sergeant, I doubt even a muzzle could curb your tongue. And if it did, you would probably enjoy it…”

“A pair of thighs might do the trick-”

“AHEM.” Coughed Arlet, warning Jenkins.

“What? The mayor received the hottest thighs in town when that burning giant dropped out of a portal and landed on his house. As for the aldermen, they were in council when these buxom snake ladies showed up and slithered their way through town hall.”

“I take it they had bows and serpents for hair, with a eyes that could make anyone hard?” Goaded Liam.

“Even my dead uncle! Haha! I see you are a man of culture M’lord!”

Arlet groaned, covering his face with his hands. Now there were two of them… Jumping through a portal was looking more attractive every day.

“They are creatures of myth. I would call them medusa. Three weeks was when I saw them in Petra. They stuck with me because that was the first time I ran out of lightning.” He shook his head.

“I’ve watched enough men die. Ahem, I don’t mean to be melancholy. Eldred handled them well.” Finished Liam.

Arlet peaked between his fingers before he spoke.

“Petra is far from here, but the timing seems suspicious. Do you think the portals spew the same malevolence in diverse regions M’lord?”

“No way to tell. Rhendal can only give us a few glimpses each day. He documents what he sees, hoping to glean some advantage or pattern. Mayhaps a schedule the portals appeared in, or an order of repeating monsters.” Said Liam.

“Imagine that, catching those beasties with their pants down for once. Bloody heaven, sir. You really know how to get the heart throbbing!”

“M’lord why do you tolerate this behavior?” Arlet cried.

“That’s simple, I fear he might enjoy the punishment and become even louder.”

A chuckle escaped from one of Arlet’s knights, drawing a sharp glare from the captain.

“Humor helps me think. Oh that reminds me, Eldred’s success seems to have earned his band a nickname has it not?” Said Liam, distracting Arlet from his wrath.

“Aye M’lord, Eldred’s panty raiders!” Cried Jenkins eagerly.

“Just Eldred’s Raiders M’lord.” Corrected a scowling Arlet.

Eldred’s panty raiders? Ha ha. How absurd. Maybe I haven’t been keeping him busy enough, time to crack the whip and hope he doesn’t bark. I could have him investigate the mayor and the aldermen. No, they are already dead, sending him after their families and associates would turn into a Mcarthyian witch hunt. Bah, and I can’t imprison someone if we found them guilty. They would have to be executed, along with their families… No, I will not allow it.

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Ah! Problems everywhere I look and solutions are not to be seen. I have too many mouths here and not enough food. Eldred’s RECE patrols can bring in some food, but I really have to reduce the headcount. Frick, Never thought I would have too many people. Although, that might be perfect. If I send a score of refugees to Greenhaven then Sintra’s food problem would be…

Liam did some math on a piece of slate.

A problem… We’ll run out halfway through winter. Less mouths buys us another week. Jenkins is crass, but reliable, I should take Arlet to Kesky and leave Sintra in the horndog’s hands. Rhendal, Nyota, and the knights would come with us, so that’s a dozen less mouths to feed.

He ran more calculations, assuming he sent half of Sintra’s population away, the numbers came up deep in the red, indicating that Sintra would starve in January instead of December. We’ll have to eat the monsters… No, it won’t be enough, even with Eldred’s panty raiders we’ll starve…

Liam cleared his throat. “We must seek King Aldric’s relief, today if possible.”

Arlet’s brow furrowed, but he remained silent.

“Jenkins, I need you to assign several Sintran companies to Eldred. His raiding tactics seem to be our only hope of harvesting food. Make it a top priority man, swear a vow of celibacy if you must. But get dicks into the field!” Ordered Liam.

Jenkins saluted in confirmation, but kept his mouth locked shut. Odd… I gave him a golden layup for a joke, but he passed?

“Assign every available officer to Eldred. Get them experience with small, highly independent squads, while he remains in Sintra… I’ll have to send him north before winter.” Said Liam.

“Aye, those ninnies were starting to nag m’lord. Eldred mentioned he wanted to leave on another raid tomorrow.” Said Jenkins, once again heading for the door.

“Oh, before you go, I’m promoting you. Congratulations Watch Captain Jenkins, you command Sintra. Arlet can handle the finer details later. For now, you are to assume his duties. The first being Eldred’s orders to relocate to Greenhaven, coordinate and find the time to train before the march.” Said Liam.

“Oh, uhm. I never expect- ahem. Thank you M’lord!” Said Jenkins, not at all sarcastic.

“Good luck Captain Jenkins.” Said Liam, grinning at the new title.

Jenkins saluted stiffly before heading out. Clearly uncomfortable at the prospect of being considered a respectable man. Arlet watched him go, waiting until he descended the palisade to voice his opinion.

“A wretch like that as watch captain? Are you sure M’lord?” Asked Arlet.

“I thought this is what you intended, having him carry your orders and acting as your second for weeks. Besides, Sintra loves him, and there is no one more qualified.” Liam gave Arlet an especially sinister grin, “If anyone more qualified shows up, I have no doubts that Jenkins will put them to work and retire.”

“I see…” Said Arlet, sounding concerned.

“Don’t fret. A month ago it would have been impossible. Now? Ha, People will mutter about how long it took for me to recognize his brilliance. The militia loves that foul mouth of his, and the officers know his competence after the eighth company took down one of those giants alone.” Chuckled Liam.

“My apologies for ever doubting in you m’lord!”

“Don’t worry about it. Worry about what will happen when Rhendal portals us to the capital.” Chuckled Liam.

Arlet froze, going stiff as a board. Liam grinned at the man’s displeasure.

“Oh? Is my fearless champion afraid of court? Ha, Nyota will be keeping me on the straight and narrow.” Goaded Liam.

“M’lord, Lady Nyota represents her own… complications. And her health! Is she well enough to travel?” Questioned Arlet.

“Only her eye remains to be healed. I’ve offered to get her a glass one but she is dead set against it, no idea why…” Said Liam.

A strange look crossed the captain’s face, vanishing as quickly as it had arrived.

Did I say something odd? Shit, I can’t keep the truth from Arlet any longer. He has to know I’m not Baron Green by now, but I need him! Without a respectable and incredibly talented champion Quetzalcoatl’s plan falls apart!

Liam decided to implement his ace in the hole, handing a stack of letters to Arlet, all sealed with Baron Green’s signet ring.

“Greenhaven is safe for the moment, but do not expect my aid this winter.”

Arlet jerked his head violently to peer into Liam’s eyes.

“Where will you be?”

“Be at peace, these letters formally appoint you as Greenwood’s Steward, I am only one man, Queztalcoatl showed me… ahem, showed me the meaning of mortality. Should I fall in battle, take care of Nyota as if she were your own mother, abandon Greenwood if you must.” Ordered Liam.

If a rutting dragon had interrupted Arlet’s morning defecation, he would have been less surprised.

“My lord, abandon Greenwood? You cannot be serious, it is our home-! Everything we have fought for, everything we have killed for-”

“Enough!” Shouted Liam, slamming both hands onto the table and sending slates scattering across the floor. “Treat that order as my last request, if I die, whatever killed me will be beyond your power to slay… Arlet, I know you seek death, but Nyota must live! Heed me champion, Nyota is of greater importance than Greenwood, or the kingdom. Keep her safe. The same goes for everyone in this room, and every knight in Greenwood.”

“Yes sir.” Said Arlet automatically.

His voice shattered the knight’s hesitation, and all pledged loyalty to Liam’s orders. Though Liam knew the truth, when he died —and it would be soon— Nyota’s life would rest entirely within Arlet’s armored palms.

Liam whispered the most sincere prayer of his life. Dear God, don’t let our champion falter…

Calm entered his mind, warning him of the future already foretold. Forever ending Liam’s fledgling faith.

“Now, my grand strategist, what should we ask of the king?” Liam asked.

“Hhmmm…” Answered the champion, going hazy eyed as his strategist talents became active. His contemplation dragged into meditation, giving Liam more time to think than he could shake a stick of medusa jerky at.

I wish we could get a mage per city, that would be incredible! Priest Sebestian could have held Avignon’s cathedral by himself, and Mont St Michel has a bishop stationed there… Bishop… Mat… Matty patty? Matimeo?… Ah, cmon Green, you couldn’t even remember the bishop’s name? Aaaah!

“Uhm…” Began Arlet, “We could not ask for enough. An entire knightly order, a company of royal magicians, if not the whole college, and food to last the winter. That would keep us afloat my lord.” Said Arlet.

“Oh…” Said Liam, wondering if Poland, circa 1944, would have been a more peaceful realm.

Arlet opened his mouth halfway, then closed it.

“Is something troubling you? Speak freely.” Offered Liam, hoping to reward his captain with trust while he still had the opportunity to do so.

“It’s nothing m’lord.”

“Everyone, get out. Close the doors behind you.” Ordered Liam, raising his voice to the knights. They had seen his lightning and jumped to obey his command.

“You have the courage to meet Therun Taloc’s eyes, tell me what troubles you before it destroys us both. Is the Stewardship not enough?”

Arlet scowled.

“Stop it! Baron Green would never have considered rewarding my service. He never would have married a cat or fought for his people! He was scum, trash, the basest pig! Not worthy of trust or House Green.” Shouted Arlet, face growing red.

Aw hell… Why are you just figuring this out now?! Arlet knows the Baron better than I ever could.

“Nyota is an incredible woman and a healer, I had to claim her for myself.” Lied Liam.

“This is what I mean! You didn’t have to marry her, or set her free! You could have taken her slave crystal and compelled her to do whatever you pleased, you possessed complete dominion over her and yet you chose to- to, TO MARRY HER!!” Shouted Arlet.

“Ahem. The lightning strike had a profound-”

“Cut the shit, Lightning can change a man, but you aren’t changed, you’re the polar opposite of Green. Who are you really? Why have you taken over the Baron’s body? Is it power you seek? Or maybe you’re a skinwalker who would prefer our blood.” Sneered Arlet, hand resting on his sword’s hilt.

Liam had never seen Arlet like this, he was speaking so directly, with unfettered rage and honesty. How long has he been holding this in?

“Blood? What? No, Arlet, why would you think that? Have I ever acted in a way that would make you doubt me?” Wondered Liam.

“That’s all the more concerning! Green spent his strength with a new woman each night. Often with several. Green could never forgive himself for being a dud, and it dragged the soul from his body. The man was a letch, but adultery is not against the king’s law. That was always his limit, he could whore, philander, even kill his lovers husband in a duel, nothing made him feel remorse. Except for breaking the King’s law. For that was sacrosanct.” Said Arlet.

A lump formed in Liam’s throat. Nyota, was against the king’s law, a blatant, gorgeous, magical provocation against King and Church.

“You’re right, I am not Baron Green…”

Arlet’s sword pressed against Liam’s throat, preventing another word from leaving his mouth. He could have killed me, I didn’t even see the blade move, or hear him unsheath it!

“Think very carefully about your next words, or else they will be your last.” Growled Arlet.

Liam tried not to swallow.

“Then I shall pick honesty… Though you will not believe it.” Began Liam.

He recounted his proposal to Sarah, how it ended with lightning that killed them both, and brought Liam’s soul to this world. How he awoke in Baron Green’s body, unable to mesh his old self with Green’s memories, but knowing Green had no will of his own, allowing Liam to improvise. When he reached his fickle motivations, Arlet ground his teeth, unsatisfied by his answers, yet finding Liam faultless.

“Enough of this farce! Therun Taloc shall judge you, how did the baron earn my loyalty?”

Liam took his seat placing his hands on his knees before he spoke.

“Will you strike me down if I answer false?”

“Yes.” he said. With the certainty of a raised guillotine.