21 - Offline Conspiracies

Outskirts of Pelensgrad, After a Day of Murder and Mayhem

The lieutenant's head rolled by Corwin's feet. The rest of the rangers, twenty-six of them now, silently stood while their lord wiped the blood from his blade. The town was an inferno behind them, and the bodies of peasants were heaped in smoldering piles. After all the nonhumans were killed and there was no trace of the Silent Legion, the humans were next. The rangers didn't rest until there wasn't a living soul or standing building.

"Merrick," Sir Grey barked. "You are now lieutenant."

"Yes, sir," Merrick said. "Very good, sir."

If the man was as scared as Corwin, he didn't show it.

"Fan out. Find their tracks. They couldn't have gotten far," Sir Grey barked, and the riders jumped on their horses, leaving Sir Grey, Corwin and Lady Mordock standing a little too close to the flame.

"Do you know what I find amusing?" Sir Grey said to no one in particular.

Corwin glanced at the warlock, hoping that she might take over this conversation that very well may end in another head rolling. However, she was as stoic and wordless as the day they first rode together. Since the punishment for not answering seemed to be guaranteed decapitation, he threw out a guess. "Small dogs, sir."

Sir Grey tilted his head. "Small dogs? Why would I ever find small dogs funny?"

"They do tricks, sir. Balancing a ball on their nose while balancing on top of another larger ball."

"Where's the humor in that? Seems like a feat of agility."

"Oh, I don't know, sir. Put the dog in a tutu, and I'm sure you get a laugh. There's a traveling bard in the pubs that are too lowly for the likes of someone of your prestige. His Chihuahua in a tutu gets them every time. Has the whole place roaring with laughter."

"It seems it's the tutu that's generating the comedy. What can you expect from a tavern full of commoners? No, no. What I find amusing is that the head is alive for minutes after decapitation. It's very possible that our bumbling, recently deceased lieutenant, who despised Merrick and can't even sack a village properly, is listening to every word we say."

"I don't know, sir. He seems dead to me."

Sir Grey eyed Corwin. After a tense moment, he said, "You say things that most men would fear to utter around me."

"I don't know, sir. Seems if you are going to cut my head off, I may as well tell you what I really think."

Sir Grey paused for a moment to consider and then bellowed with full-bodied guffaws. He slapped Corwin on the back, and they mounted their horses. The warlock said nothing through the entire exchange. Her expression didn't even change. It was hard to tell if Corwin had sealed his fate or saved his life.

Either way, Merrick was dead three hours later, leaving only twenty-five riders. They had discovered a tunnel not too far from the town where an elf, dwarf, halfling, and four humans had escaped on foot. There was also evidence of a scuffle and perhaps the use of fire magic. Sir Grey deduced that there was squabbling within the ranks of the Silent Legion, which confirmed his suspicions of the plot by Lady Ameria and the lesser races to ensnare their lord.

They set out to track the party but could not catch up by the time the day was over, what with the hours they had lost burning the village and finding the trail again. However, it was only a matter of time before they would catch up again. Their targets were on foot, and the rangers were on horseback.

Later that night, Sir Grey kicked Corwin awake. They retreated into the woods, well out of earshot of the rangers. While they walked, Sir Grey spoke of his family history. Everyone knew that Sir Grey's family line had been running the kingdom before Lovantus showed up with the Gauntlet of the One True King. Seemed silly to Corwin, picking a ruler based on a piece of armor. Even he, himself, could be a leader under those circumstances, and he certainly had no business being king.

"You see, dear, simple Corwin, the Greys have faithfully stewarded the kingdom for generations, but all that is under threat if the witch ever produces an heir to the throne," Sir Grey lamented.

"Seems like they would have had kids by now, sir, if they were planning to have them," Corwin said.

"Oh, Corwin, bless you," Sir Grey said. "I don't know what it's like down in the peasants' hovels, but plenty of nobles wait till their thirties, sometimes even forties, to have kids. With mystic birth control, educated women, and fertility magics, all people have is time. 'Got to like your life before you get a bun in the oven,' my father used to say. My father didn't understand that it'd be chaos if the Greys weren't in power. Why do you think I have forty-three children with eight wives? Got to make sure someone's in charge after I'm gone."

"Begging your pardon, but isn't Lovantus in charge?"

Sir Grey roared with laughter and said, "You have the most peculiar sense of humor! He is a figurehead at best. Just a war hero to parade around the town when people get upset at us for burning down too many villages, taking ninety percent of their crops in taxes, and consummating their marriages by the discretion of the local lords."

"I know I'm a simple man, sir, but wouldn't they work a little harder for you if you treat them a little better? I had this captain that bought us extra beer, he did. Always told us what a good job we were doing. Worked twice as hard for him, I did."

"And you're not working that hard for me?" Sir Grey scowled.

"Oh, I'm working very hard! Much harder, sir!"

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"My case in point. Give them an inch, they'll take a yard."

"Who, sir?"

"The peasants!"

"Oh, yes, right, sir."

"All of you are replaceable, but there is only one Grey family line."

"I thought you said you had forty-three kids, sir."

"Weren't you listening?! I'm it. The only one who will do what must be done to keep this kingdom going. All Lovantus can do is prattle on about his adventuring days. I'm the one who makes tough decisions about collecting all the bread in the kingdom for the nobles when a cold snap destroys the harvest. I'm the one who enforces the rules about no one owning gold who isn't of noble birth, so we don't disrupt the social order. Lovantus gave a beggar child a gold coin once and told the vagrant to buy a holiday ham! Can you believe that?!"

"A ham? How's that dangerous?"

"It's not the ham, but what it represents. This kid's family has a ham, and so you think you can have one, too! Soon the whole entire kingdom will be demanding ham for their holidays, and we'll be bankrupt within a year. You've got to maintain the social order, and while Lovantus is thankfully hands-off with the affairs of the state, the next in line for the throne might want to take control. Right now, it's easy. Lovantus says, 'Take care of the poor', so I round up all the beggars and slaughter them."

"I don't think that's what Lovantus meant."

"Does it matter? If he doesn't see any more beggars on the street, who cares about the details? What are we supposed to do? Build houses for them? No, you see, it's the halflings. Ever since their shire burned, they've been taking homes and jobs from our citizens."

"Don't halflings create more jobs? Seems to me halflings got to eat, so there will be more taverns, and they got to buy goods, so more mercantiles."

"Oh, dear," Sir Grey sighed. "Who's been filling your head with such garbage? If we slaughtered all the nonhumans, you'd see a big change. It'd be better for everybody."

"Not for them."

"Of course, not for them, but they can go off and make their own kingdom if they don't like it. I'm not a savage. Banishment is a perfectly reasonable punishment to impose for the crime of being a halfling. Still, Lovantus doesn't see it that way. Oh, no, some half-breed happens to be good with a dagger, and he invites the whole lot of them to stay. He should stick to swinging his axe around for the public."

"What do you suppose that you'll do about it, sir?"

"You see, this is why I like you. You don't just accept things the way they are. I daresay we are kindred spirits, and if you'd been a noble birth, we could have even been friends."

"We're not friends?"

"I like you, but can you imagine me bringing a squire to Sunday brunch? You don't let your milk cow eat at the table with you."

"Me mum did."

Sir Grey paused, and then said, "That explains a lot."

"There was also a turkey in me bedroom. Had to sleep under me blanket so it wouldn't peck me eyes."

"A turkey in your bedroom?"

"Then there were the cats, forty-two of them. There to control the rabbit population. Not sure how many of those there were, but we'd find rabbits everywhere."

"Right, now that we are finished talking about your childhood pets..."

"I haven't told you about the honey badger yet."

"A honey badger?"

"Don't let its name fool you. Quite deadly. Had to control the cat population. It's what did in me dad, though we told the neighbors it was a cart accident so as not to make them nervous."

"Would you quit prattling on about your honey badger?! I was about to include you in a conspiracy."

"Conspiracy, sir?"

"Now, I'm not sure if I want you to be a part of the plan. Mordock is so much easier to deal with. She doesn't say a word, just exudes mighty stoicism. But back to the reason I have roused you from your slumber. I need to know, are you with me?"

"With you for what, sir?"

"You know...Lovantus...the gauntlet...the throne?"

"You want me to cut off Lovantus's arm, so you can pretend the gauntlet is yours and take the throne!"

"No, but I do like the way you think! How perfectly devious. No...no...the house of Grey may never wear the gauntlet themselves. As stewards to the throne, there is always a higher authority. However, if the gauntlet is lost...if you catch my drift."

"Oh, you want me to lose the gauntlet. Throw it in the river, I suppose."

"No, no. That's how the dread creature Rothlia found it before Lovantus strolled into her lair and bested her for it. No, it needs to be gone, destroyed, and the poor hero who wore it brought back for the funeral of the last King. Only then will the Greys be free to truly rule the kingdom of Traldalor."

"How do you suppose to destroy it, sir? It was made by dwarven master smiths with divine metal."

"You let me worry about that." Sir Grey smiled. "All I need you to do is take Lovantus into safekeeping. After all, he is feebleminded. Then Mordock will take care of the rest."

Sir Grey laughed maniacally.

"Begging your pardon, sir," Corwin ventured, "but why are you laughing? It wasn't that funny."

"Everyone's a critic. I thought it was funny."

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