In a dimly lit chamber of Talocandel's Summer Palace, the thick scent of incense lingered heavily in the air. Golden braziers, one of the many opulent furnishings Aldric had acquired, cast long shadows upon the intricate tapestries, where tales of Taloc’s victories were stitched in glorious reliefs.
“Damn you Taloc. Why did you leave Pandora’s heart behind? Why couldn’t you destroy the bane of my kingdom.” Hissed King Aldric, meeting the eyes of the imprisoned God’s likeness.
There was no response, or at least, no response Aldric was cognizant of. He let out a breath, looking down at himself. Regal vestments of dark crimson hung neatly upon his frame, as he sat upon an oaken chair; feeling the weight of his crown not merely on his head but over his heart. Across from him sat Grandmaster Renosipe, the sovereign's most trusted magician, and the man who’d lost Pandora’s heart.
“God’s rational is his alone sire. I hear Francois has recovered and plans to leave his convalescence, mayhaps he can offer counsel where I cannot.” Lied Renosipe.
He skimmed a letter as he spoke, soon sorting it into the tallest of four letter heaps. The pile of letters that reported the appearance of portals. Aldric scowled, half the kingdom was reporting the plague. He didn’t have the manpower, nor did the church. Nor did all the nobles combined! If the plague continued for much longer-
–he shuddered.
Renosipe retrieved another letter, skimming and sorting it accordingly. The Grandmaster’s robe, a deep indigo flecked with red and yellow threads, shimmered subtly in the low light. While his eyes, sharp as a falcon's, bore the gaze of a man who’d seen ten thousand executions, and sworn to never be on the chopping block himself. His silver beard, grown long since Lightning Lord Liam’s arrival, rested against his chest, and in his hand, he held an ebony staff adorned with a crystal that pulsed with a gentle, azure light. Another relic from the kingdom’s arcane treasury, a weapon said to have been wielded by one of Pandora’s archspies. Aldric eyed the staff, suddenly realizing Renosipe could slay him in a second, and was naturally inclined to do so. But he was still alive.
You’re a confusing mage Renosipe. What is your true goal? Why serve me for so long only to work against me in the end?
He kept those thoughts to himself, instead saying, “Francois has failed me too many times. I’ll need to find a replacement for him. Someone with aspirations. A disgraced bishop or first paladin who's been beaten down and fallen below their station, through no fault of their own of course. Hmm, I seem to remember a Captain Thaddeus, I can’t recall whose bastard he is, but I'm sure he’s cooked in Kheresh long enough to be…” King Aldric smiled, “joyfully compliant to our requests.”
Renosipe did not look impressed, or annoyed. He carefully raised the next letter, opened it with an inch long blade of shadows and continued reading.
"My liege, another one of our thousand baronies calls for immediate aid." He said, placing the letter on the second largest pile. Renosipe’s voice, though quiet, commanded the King’s attention, "furthermore, this carries tidings of Duke Hamilton. Hmm, it appears he’s made inroads to Greenwood, securing Avignon, as well as dividing the former lands of the Blackwood Viscounty.”
Renosipe pulled a folded map out of the letter and passed it across to Aldric, showing the new boundaries of the local baronies. The most notable thing about the changes were how no additional land was granted to Lady Nyota Green.
“If Hamilton seeks to levy taxes for Blackwood’s reconstruction, he may. There are no noticeable errors in his proposal, so long as no barons involved complain, the matter stands resolved.” Said Aldric.
“Very good sire. First Paladin Thaddeus is a devout man, but his father is Archbishop Judas, the bishop who surrendered to Lightning Lord Liam. Since Francois’...” Renosipe paused, seeking the right words, “falling out with Taloc, Judas has been cloistered within Khereshetal. A sort of penance for failing Taloc.” Said Renosipe, frowning as he read further into the letter.
Aldric leaned forward, his eyes gleaming with concern. “Judas could be dangerous, especially if we elevate Thaddeus. The father might exert undue influence on our next tool.”
“A hammer swung by two hands hits harder that the hammer swung by one. Write to Thaddeus, offer him the levantine diocese. With Francois incapacitation, you wield the authority to anoint acting archbishops. Those lands are close enough to Khereshetal, any clergyman would have an exceedingly difficult time arguing against that order. Although, Thaddeus has complained about felinid sterilization. We must tread carefully or that will bite our cheeks.”
Aldric nodded at the man’s cunning. Soon adding his own.
“He’s perfect then. We can elevate him with the mandate of safely delivering fertile felinids, ha. If we’re ever questioned concerning the sterilizations, we can point to him as an attempt to curtail it. I’ll write the letter immediately.” Said Aldric with a smile.
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Silence filled the study, with only the scritch scratch of quills against parchment to disturb them. Minutes passed. King Aldric finished his letter and found Renosipe holding three letters with Duke Hamilton’s own seal, and scowling like someone had slapped his mother.
"Speak, Renosipe. What news does my cousin bring?"
"It seems he is gathering strength, as his native forces are insufficient. Blackwood’s armies have turned traitor, they actively oppose your rule. Bah! Not even the farmer levies remain. Furthermore, Blackwood’s capital has been abandoned by its civilian population. Hmmm, how troublesome. Food will have to be brought in to support his army. Or we’ll have to give up the north…” Renosipe stroked his beard, plotting logistical maneuvers.
“Finish the letter.” Ordered Aldric, having no more patience for the man’s deceptions.
“Ah, yes your majesty.” Said Renosipe, returning to the letter without looking at King Aldric. “Hamilton’s had to call upon a dozen Marquis, and scores of Barons. Bedford, burgh, Hastings, Ros, Sutton, Wilton, Wharton, Curzon, ah, all those you’ve suggested, the barons who sided with Lord Liam against you have been summoned to war. Hamilton’s divided them into hunting parties and they’ve suffered tremendous casualties. Four have already retired from the battlefield after their armies were slain. Ha, Hamilton sent them home with honours. A glorious defeat that they can tell all their grandchildren about. Haha. All goes as you have commanded, Sire," the Grandmaster began, his laughter curtailed by urgency.
He tossed the letter onto the table and opened another, skimming the contents in seconds before reading a third letter as well. “Portals are appearing nationally. Every Dukedom and Mark has reported a sighting. Hamilton is holding the line in thirty four baronies… ” Added Renosipe, his words coming in bursts as he read the letter, then cross referenced it with a pair of abacus and two other reports.
“Make that thirty five baronies. He is stretched thin.”
“Duke Kheresh recently joined the subjugation efforts. How does his army fair?”
A frown whispered across Renosipe’s brow.
“Duke Kheresh reports tremendous casualties that seem ill aligned with Duke Hamilton’s reports. It’s as if they are fighting two separate wars, on disparate continents! Gargantuan Scythe-Beasts were slain by Hamilton’s archers without a casualty, yet they slew a hundred Kheresh cavaliers.”
Aldric leaned back into his chair, “Ha, I always suspected Kheresh was full of bluster and his forces lacked the prowess he claimed.”
“Or his cavaliers rode for two months and were ambushed, rather than bulwarked by a castle.” Opined Renosipe, trying not to insult the king, but growing ever more weary of his increasing sadism.
“Ahem, more news, Strange beasts, called ‘Harbingers of Night’... ugh, how pretentious– they’re dreadful bat-winged fiends that shroud themselves in darkness, were brought low by the a trifecta of cooperation. Hamilton’s magi distracted the beasts while his falconers attacked. Their raptors clawed through the night bearing paladin enchantments. An intriguing way to dispel a shadowshield… But I'll investigate that later sire. Ahem. ‘Worms of the Deep’, –some kind of serpent– met their doom when Hamilton’s engineers collapsed tunnels upon them, sealing them in tombs of rock and stone. Prime examples of all aforementioned creatures are being preserved for more precise analysis and dissection by your college."
Renosipe paused, trying not to drool at the thought of new knowledge. "Hamilton has been liberal with his medals and honours, eighteen new captains have been appointed, and he’s recommended two magi for enfranchisement. It seems they scored a victory over a legion of… skeletons that walked and fought with weapons and armor. Hhm… I don’t fancy the notion of undead. Not after tens of thousands have died…"
The King nodded. "It is as I expected from the Iron Duke. He succeeds where others fail." He allowed a faint smile to linger on his lips, but it was fleeting, quickly replaced by the furrowed brow of a monarch. Perpetually burdened by grander concerns.
"But what of Duke Kheresh’s army? Has the wart of my bullocks finally withered and died?"
A shadow passed over Renosipe’s face and he raised his hand, mystically checking the wards he’d placed around King Aldric’s study. They were unyielding, exactly how he’d cast them.
“Kheresh marched from the southern desert into the northern reaches. He carried with him all the grandeur of a noble born to command, nearly ten thousand men. My watchers report that two thousand were lost along the way. Additionally, they were ill equipped for the snow. A thousand died during the winter, and their skirmish tactics failed miserably. But Duke Kheresh made it to Sintra with a couple thousand men. They were instrumental in protecting the port city until their departure. Tis a shame Giaus refused to hold him there for another winter, the duke might have frozen to death. But it seems Kheresh was never able to establish supply lines. If he remained in the north they all would have starved.” Said Renosipe.
King Aldric rubbed his hands together. “Two thousand casualties along the way? Marvelous! Let the jackal lick his wounds, he’ll never raise an army to trouble us. As for Gaius, leave him be. It would have aroused more suspicion if Kheresh was utterly destroyed. Besides, Sintra is our only port into Greenwood.”
“As you wish. But my spies also report that Kheresh is returning to Khereshetal with only a thousand men."
The King’s fingers tapped rhythmically on the armrest, a habit he indulged in when deep in thought. Ten thousand trained soldiers had been reduced to one thousand. That was more than he could have hoped, Kheresh would have difficulty governing his lands with so few. Yet, it was as Renosipe had said. The dukes seemed to be fighting different wars, as if one was facing an organized foe and the other was not.
One cut off the beast’s head, while the other died to nine thousand wounds. Twas as if they were fighting hydras. Ancient texts had spoken of hydras in Taloc’s homeland, always in service to Pandora as her favored children. In fact, they were so beloved by the evil one that she often chose their form to emulate.
“Nine thousand lost.” Repeated Aldric.