Volume 2: Arc 1: Chapter 4
AUTHOR'S NOTE
This is the end of the first-half of arc 1. I am pretty busy over the next few weeks and am writing for the contest so I'll make the tentative date for my next series of chapters May 31st. But, anything could happen between now and then and I could push it up (hint: That is extremely likely). Check the FAQ page if you want updates.
As always, please rate me here http://www.royalroadl.com/fiction/1666.
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October 10, 32 R.E
“Still no word?” Duke Cajin of Poshani asked in a slight drawl as he rested his forearms on the table in front of him, massive as they were, and exposed by the rolled-up sleeves on his unbuttoned tunic that matched his peppered hair remarkably well.
He and his nine advisors sat around an intimate round table outside, directly below the noonday sun. A few birds chirped here and a basset hound from one of the palace’s kennels barked loudly and obnoxiously to Cajin’s ears.
“No, my lord.” Bastul said, his eyes lowered.
Cajin sighed loudly. He wished it had gone differently. He had been so close.
Duke Cajin thought himself a good man. He harbored no criminals like the oaf in Canthos or discriminated against the poor like that arrogant fool in Lethari. His wife, Mahira, would agree with that sentiment.
Both were of the Kunal, a variant Elven Race, that had long since had its glory days. But so had many of the races that resided in the Western Territories.
It was a barbarous land filled with lost, desperate races who would attempt anything for a sliver of the power they once held. Cajin was not one of them. His race had long since lost its chance for a return to glory; his people either interbred with other elven races creating new variant races or died off from old age. Now, it was just Cajin, his wife, and their two sons, Emanuel and Kais.
Poshani, Cajin thought, was enough for his family. Wealth, prestige, luxuries. These were all at his fingertips. He desired little else. Poshani was the largest and most stable province in the Western Territories. Even the other Dukes, jealous of his riches, hesitated before invading his territory.
His army of 15,000 with a core of 200 experts gave pause where Cajin himself did not. Cajin was an expert who had crossed the level 300 threshold just under 200 years ago. His soul was only weaker than Duke Gomperi who was ancient even by expert standards.
But, they still came. After all, territory was power and war was the way to achieve it in the Western Territories. Cajin rarely returned the favor. There was nothing these petty wars could offer him other than the deaths of his people and the instability of his realm.
“My lord, is it time to marshal the troops?” Commander Gifalt asked. There was no eagerness in his eyes as he met Cajin’s. Cajin had ingrained in his men a reluctance for conflict that spread to the highest ranks; however, that was not to say they would be cowardly when conflict arose; Cajin and by extension, his men, were just more prescient of life than the average man in the Western Territories.
“War is always on the horizon. I really thought it would be different this time.” Cajin mused, a hint of sadness in his voice.
When the Duchy of Kankur claimed the southern tip of his duchy, it was a surprise to him, and he expected, to the other dukes as well. No one had known there were a few thousand people that lived on top of Creva Mountain.
When he first heard the news, Cajin was pleasantly surprised. Any change was preferable to the current situation where war triumphed over diplomacy continuously.
He even ignored the slight Kankur gave him when they did not send an ambassador to inform him of their formation. It was only proper after all.
He had to learn second-hand that a duchy had formed from within his territory.
Bastul coughed softly under his breath. It was the farthest he would go in reprimanding his duke. Cajin sighed. “Bastul, war in not such a simple notion that one can begin one for a slight grievance.”
Bastul, still looking down, said softly, “They seized a piece of our land and we did nothing, my lord. If you care nothing for the minerals lost on the mountain, then your pride surely.”
“Bastul, we’ve been over this.” Cajin said with a hint of anger.
Indeed, they had. Creva Mountain was not worth the price in men or material. The sliver Kankur took from him was a pittance in comparison to what he would lose in return if he tried to take the mountain back.
“That is true.” Bastul agreed. “However, the many months I spent building trade relations with Kankur matter little anymore.”
“Kankur can still come under our wing.” Cajin interjected. There was a hint of heat in his voice as he spoke which made Bastul flinch slightly even as Cajin directed his steely gaze towards the hunched over man.
“My lord,” Bastul said hoarsely, “Your plan was well founded. Well founded, indeed. You predicted the massive influx of immigrants into Kankur would require it to search for a way to expand its territory. And, you even forced Kankur to offer the trade contract which left them in a lesser position at the negotiating table; however, things did not turn out as we planned.” Bastul finished meekly.
Kankur, Cajin believed, would become reliant upon Poshani if Cajin could rope Kankur into a trade contract. Even if that meant he had to give up one-hundred square miles of his territory. He grit his teeth at the thought. But, it was worth it. Due to the favorable terms of the trade contract, Poshani would, in effect, be in control of two stable centers of trade power within the Western Territories. Slowly, but surely, Poshani would come to dominate the economy of the Western Territories; Cajin’s goal of peace in the Western Territories would come to pass.
“An alliance would never have worked. These Ventros…” Cajin slurred over the unfamiliar word, “are arrogant to think we would stoop to protect them for a mere trade contract. Even though its importance is far beyond their knowledge…” Cajin ended in a murmur as he looked down.
“My lord,” Gifalt interject, “It is possible for our army to defend both duchies. Barely. But, it is possible. Heavy recruiting would be needed and outposts constructed. But, it could be done.”
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Cajin waved Gifalt’s comment away before he even finished. “No. While Kankur may wish an alliance, I have already discussed this Bastul and we both agree it is unwise.”
Cajin gestured at Bastul benevolently. At the gesture, Bastul raised his head slightly and said with a small frown upon his face, “If our lord wishes to unify the Western Territories peacefully, then an alliance is a poor option. The other dukes would see it as a threat and all three would attack at once.
We would be hard pressed to impede their progress even with the strength of our army. Even an informal alliance where we protect Kankur’s borders would not be a good approach. As the Commander said, we have the ability to double the size of our army; however, this would put great strain on our treasury.
In fact,” Bastul said with a gleam in his eyes, “Its more feasible and would require less manpower to invade Kankur and seize their city.”
Cajin pressed his lips together. His advisors had wanted him to take this course ages ago but he had refused. It wasn’t that he was war-shy. Diplomacy, Cajin believed, must be the precursor to conflict. In the Western Territories, however, diplomacy was only a farce, whereas, war was the true tool of negotiators.
A few months ago, Cajin would have immediately rejected Bastul’s proposal; however, in those months, Kankur’s economy had flourished while its military, by all reports, had not.
It would be nice to control both Poshani and Kankur’s trading centers. In that way, I could slowly dominate the economy of the Western Territories without having to deal with the limitations of partial control, Cajin mused to himself.
After a few moments he looked up and said, “Gifalt, prepare a plan to double the size of the army. If I do decide to invade Kankur, then I will need to be prepared to hold both territories. The rest of you, work with Bastul to form an economically sound plan for invading the duchy. We will wait a week. If Kankur has not responded positively to our offer, then, and only then, will I consider going to war.”
~
“And that bastard just took it straight up his ass.” Komth barked a laugh, his face a ruddy texture speckled with droplets of beer. Rajac leaned over the bar, his face deeply hidden within his hood, and smiled to himself as he cupped his tankard of ale.
The muted laughter from around him soothed his mind in ways that even surprised him. He was further surprised that he had come to like Komth in the few hours they had spent together. Rajac had assumed he would despise any Client due to the inherent qualities that attracted a person to seek out Renewal Eternal.
But, it appeared, not all were like that.
“I have never seen a man who ran from a fight that hard.” Rajac said with a touch of levity.
“HA!” Komth nearly shouted. “This man, you should have seen him,” Komth paused as he took a long draft of his beer. “Ahh. Great bear of a man. Hairy as could be. Challenges me to a fight to the death like it was nothing. All knew me in Bunshet then; I had just dueled the level 100 expert who resided there. ‘Parrently the bloke was a follower of the expert and was pissed that I just pummeled him. Public mind you. Duels in the empires are generally in that fashion; like they’re a source of entertainment for the pompous there.
The first blow…” Komth snorted into his tankard and said unable to keep the mirth out of his voice, “He pisses himself out of fear. And turned away just as I struck.” Komth made a thrusting motion with his arm that sloshed a large portion of his beer over his hand.
“Damn.” He said as he distractedly whipped up the mess. “Anyway, the man got my sword up his ass for his trouble. He lived but I doubt he’ll ever live down that story.” Komth finished, still chuckling.
Rajac was already pleasantly drunk by the time Komth finished his story. His head buzzed with the alcohol as he leaned back in his seat. It was nice, for once, to relax.
“My friend,” Rajac said gregariously, “You’ve had some impeccably bizarre adventures.”
“Indeed, I have Rajac. What about you? You’ve only told me your name. Your place of birth and race are a mystery to me. If I did not know any better, I would expect you were a harlot in disguise.”
Rajac sighed inwardly. It was not just that Komth could, with a twist of his words, say something obviously offensive to women and homosexuals, it was that he cared not at all. Further, throughout the night, Komth had kept up these stories of good cheer and brevity before he attempted to delve into Rajac’s past.
But, like each time before, Rajac said, “Neither are very interesting Komth nor would they grant you the gossip that you thrive off of.”
And each time, Komth would laugh it off and claim indifference. Even with these intrusions into his privacy, Rajac still enjoyed drinking the night away with Komth.
But, morning came and when it did, they grasped hands and bid final farewells to each other. Rajac doubted he would see Komth again. It was a large world whose experts left to find the most disparate of places. But, anything could happen in Thantos; it already had to some degree. Rajac thought he would, never in-a-million-years, come to like another Client, but here stood Komth .
Promises were made, a friendship forged, and as Rajac watched Komth walk slowly down the dirt path until he receded from view, a certain degree of nostalgia washed through him. But then he turned away from what might have been and began to consider what was. As he re-entered Vasat, he had already shifted his mind to Dalom and the myriad of problems a bout with him would entail.
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