After forty-two laps, I was beyond exhausted, my large body drenched in sweat, my left arm on fire. Every time a citizen came through they stopped in complete astonishment, sometimes gathering in groups to stare, until a frown sent them scurrying about their work. I lived for the nod of approval from Carradock each time I arrived back at the gate against which he leaned, often in conversation with other soldiers. Also, for the thought of a long, long warm bath.
A castle servant, the one from breakfast, was ahead of me, twisting her apron in her hands and looking everywhere but into my face.
‘Wha’?’ I wheezed out.
‘Chef–’ she flung her hand out in a gesture towards the keep, where a short man in what looked like a grey baker’s outfit ‘–wants to know what to prepare for dinner.’
‘Dear lord.’ I came to a stop, worried my aching legs would not want to resume. ‘It’s not important. But keep it simple.’ My predecessor had obviously enjoyed eating extensive meals with several courses. ‘Just a couple of slices of roast meat and …’ What would an athlete eat? Food with plenty of protein and vitamins. ‘Wait. Grilled fish. Nuts. Fresh vegetables, like tomatoes and carrot, that don’t need much, if any, cooking.’
I wasn’t really hungry just now, my body was too stressed, but no doubt my appetite would revive later.
‘Ahh…’
‘What?’
‘Chef won’t be pleased.’
I stared at her. ‘Hands up if you are king.’ I put my own hand up. ‘That puts me in charge.’
Once she had turned away, alarmed, I returned my focus back into my final few laps. Although it was distracting I when I turned a corner and was facing the keep: there I could see the chef remonstrating with the servant. He kept looking over at me, as though in appeal, but I wasn’t having any of it and focused on moving one leg, then the next, and on keeping hold of that enormously heavy sword.
I wasn’t allowed to settle into my rhythm again though, for with a clatter of metal-hooves on cobblestone, a small group of riders came into the barracks yard. Some were soldiers of mine but one was carrying a green pennant (deep green, with a golden wolf’s head) and dressed in expensive-looking clothes.
‘King Carlos?’
Either I looked dumb, having forgotten my name here, or else the new arrival was dismayed by my appearance.
‘King Carlos?’ he tried again.
‘Yes?’
My impression that this was a man who was attentive to his looks was reinforced as he dismounted and made his bow. No one had a beard as neat his without some effort.
‘Lord Oseso, ambassador to his majesty King Wace of Southway.’
‘Pleased to meet you.’ My politeness was automatic. I felt no warmth towards this man. Quite apart from the fact his rich, fur-lined cloak and black, oiled hair alienated me, this was the enemy.
A crowd was gathering as soldiers and civilians moved closer to hear the ambassador’s words.
‘Perhaps we can take some refreshment in private?’ Lord Oseso suggested.
I shook my head. ‘There’s nothing you can say that I would hide from my people. Why are you here?’
‘Are you sure?’ There was a knowing sneer in his gaze, inviting some kind of complicity from me.
‘Get on with it. I’m busy.’
Supressing a smile, the ambassador from Southland shrugged, as if to pass off any blame. ‘King Wace, in his generosity, offers to make Greyland a dependency of Southway. You,’ he gestured to everyone, ‘are spared conquest. And you personally, sire, will be given a comfortable retirement, dining on the finest food of our realm in the company of delightful personal companionship, in return for implementing the decisions of his highness on your interface.’
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A silence fell over the square and even the crows stilled their caws, as if to listen to my answer. I let my heart and breath settle.
‘Firstly, we are not conquered yet. Secondly, we all know what it would mean for our kingdom to be run by an invader…’ I raised my voice for all to hear. ‘People dragged off to work wherever your ruler wanted; our soldiers used up in his battles to spare his own troops; our wealth drained into your coffers; starvation and ruin here.’ I knew what I was talking about, it’s what I intended to do to them.
Lord Oseso shook his head. ‘Careful what you say next, this offer won’t come again.’
‘Good. If we see you again, you’ll be executed as a spy. Greyland will never surrender and you can tell King Wace that unless he withdraws from our territory, it is he who will suffer conquest.’
‘I’ll tell him of your empty threat and he will laugh. And he will remind you of it when you are in chains at his feet.’
‘That is disrespectful.’ I was furious and at least a part my anger was drawn from the uncomfortable feeling, fear even, that he was going to be proven right. I walked over to him, using my height and bulk to lean down and snarl. ‘Vincit qui patitur, he who endures conquers. And Greyland will endure.’
Perhaps he saw the determination in my eyes. Perhaps he understood how close I was to striking him with the sword in my left hand, which no longer felt heavy. In any case, the ambassador’s head dropped and he stepped back, then turned away to find his horse and remount.
‘Blindfold him and lead his horse. Don’t let him look around as he leaves.’
‘Yes sir.’
‘Right, then everyone, back to work. We’re going to have to work extremely hard, myself included, to endure and escape conquest.’
Muttering broke out among the people and it was hard to judge the tone. Certainly, it was not the cheering enthusiasm of a people rallying to their king. But among the soldiers especially there were several faces that looked brighter and more supportive than they had.
‘Now, Carradock. I was on lap forty-four, was I not?’
‘Forty-three sire.’
‘Damn pedant.’
The last few laps were painful. It did help, however, that I could study the town menus and take my mind from the constant complaints of my body. That gave me one measure of the effect of my responses to the ambassador from Southway, which was that the score for Happiness under the people menu had risen from 14 to 16. At least it hadn’t gone down, so on the whole, they seemed to approve of resistance rather than surrender.
It was the military menu that got me thinking again.
Military
Light infantry: 32
Heavy infantry: 12
Archers: 18
Light cavalry: 24
Heavy cavalry: 4
Ballista: 1
Hospital: 17
Military upkeep cost: 42 gold, 5 silver
Currently training: 1 heavy cavalry
Buildings: keep level 2; curtain walls level 1; towers level 1; town walls level 1
Currently building: tower machicolations, 3 days
Why was I training heavy cavalry? They were costly in terms of iron and tactically useless. We would be holding defensive positions for the foreseeable future and while I hoped the day would come when I rode at the head of a line of formidable heavy cavalry, that was a long way off. Although it meant losing whatever raw materials my predecessor had invested in the project, I cancelled the heavy cavalry from the training queue and instead added fifteen archers to it, at a cost of 10 iron ingots and 15 gold and 15 of the unassigned townspeople.
That left me 12 unassigned townspeople to think about. Before setting them to various tasks, I needed to know about building a trading vessel. When I tried to call up information about ships, I got a frustrating message.
Shipbuilding
Unknown.
Create a Shipwright to unlock this option.
‘Hey, you!’ I called out to a skinny youth, who was hanging around near the steps of the keep watching me with earnest eyes as though I was last man in for a cricket team that was over a hundred runs behind. And I couldn’t tell if he wanted me to fail or succeed.
‘Sire?’
‘Get the Chief Carpenter for me.’
‘Yes, sire.’ The lad got up without any urgency and strolled down a shadow-filled street.
I was on lap forty-six when the carpenter arrived, he was a bald, confident looking man, with intelligent brown eyes.
‘Walk with me,’ I grunted.
‘Sire.’
‘Can you make us a trading ship?’
The question came as a surprise but he took it well, hardly faltering in his step. ‘No sire.’
‘What if I researched Shipbuilding One?’
The man looked at me, surprised, then down at the ground. ‘As you know, sire, I only have access to a limited menu in order that I can view my tasks... I couldn't be sure about research, but Shipbuilding does sound like it will make the role of Shipbuilder available to you.’
‘And I can then assign someone to it?’
‘If it becomes an option sire.’
‘Would you like to do it?’
‘Me? It’s up to you sire.’
‘Yes,’ I said, a little impatiently. ‘I know that. But I’d rather people enjoyed their work than hated it.’ This wasn’t just coming from my innate sense of politeness, it was practical too. I wanted that town happiness score to rise and surely by assigning the right people to the right jobs, at least when it came to specialist roles, that was going to help?
We walked the entire length of the barracks square and turned back towards Carradock before the carpenter answered. ‘I think I would like that sire.’
‘Right so, find someone in your workshop who wants to be the Chief Carpenter and I’ll make you Shipbuilder in…’ I checked the research menu, dropped Navigation (there was no penalty, but I risked having to restart it again from the beginning), as it still had five days to go, and swapped to Shipbuilding 1, ‘four days.’
‘Thank you sire.’
'Now tell me this. I see a lot of people in the town. But not very many on the menus. Why is that?'
Again, the carpenter looked astonished. Then a little wary, as if I'd set a trap. 'People want to join the menu, sire, to serve the goddess... and you. But it's limited, isn't it? They can't get on unless you've been able to make room.'
That wasn't an answer that clarified very much, but I gave him a grunt to signal he could go back to work. It was as much as I could manage. As for the twelve unassigned people in the town, I decided to leave them for now. Soon I’d want shipbuilders and sailors.
Forty-seven.
Forty-eight.
Forty-nine.
Fifty.
‘That’s me done for the day.’ I spoke to Carradock with as much nonchalance as I could muster. As if I could do another fifty, although every muscle was groaning.
‘Well done Sire.’
That acknowledgement lifted me all the way back to the keep.