Saltwater was a relatively small town for the amount of traffic that usually went through it. A couple thousand people called it home permanently, but it could see its population swell to twice its size on a busy day. That happened when the nearby city of Volten was hosting an event of particular importance or when the southern merchants were tight on coin and decided to take the long route around the Darkwood, following the coast, to reach Hassel.
Under Amelia’s watch, the town hosted more than seven thousand people within its walls. Not something that could be sustained for long, especially since soldiers were known to eat much and produce little, but she had ensured the stores would be full before closing the gates and lifting the wards. No one could get out or come in, but the people wouldn’t suffer for it overmuch.
It was a pretty drastic change to the locals’ lives. One wouldn’t be remiss to think that there would be some resistance. However, the fact that her soldiers significantly outnumbered the civilians and positively dwarfed the local militia meant that no one tried to cause trouble. The people were hunkering down and hoping the storm would pass.
The local lord, one Sir Elliot Saltwater of Saltwater, was wise enough to surrender once she appeared in his solar, completely bypassing his guards and his castle’s protections. He had agreed not to fight her once she promised that if he cooperated, she wouldn’t execute him or his household. Some less subtle threats might have been involved as well.
The three hundred slaves they had found being employed around the fields or as salt gatherers on the coast had been much less shy about expressing their bloodthirst. Almost all of them were part of a group of refugees from a town that dealt with firewood and had been overrun by the voidlings. Upon reaching what they believed to be a safe haven, they were instead enslaved upon the order of the current lord’s father for not being able to pay for their keep. That kind of betrayal did not engender good feelings.
Amelia, however much she would have liked to satisfy them, kept her word, and even now, House Saltwater was being held in one of the few mansions of the noble district under the careful watch of her most loyal men. They were explicitly told that any attempt to contact the outside would be considered a breach of their agreement. After seeing what happened to the more bellicose aristocrats, they were cowed.
It wouldn’t last. Amelia knew that pride and arrogance would see to it that soon, Lord Volten or another ambitious member of his household would try her patience. Still, for the moment, she could focus on organizing the coming siege.
Frankly, it was extremely dull work, and after ensuring the town wouldn’t starve the moment Count Pollus parked his army outside the walls, Amelia left her requisitioned office to get some entertainment.
She stepped out of the castle and onto the cobblestone streets of Saltwater, immediately drawing the attention of those nearby. Her soldiers saluted her with respect and awe—still coming to terms with what real power looked like—their armor clinking as they stood to attention.
A few brave locals, venturing out of their homes despite the tense atmosphere, offered her hesitant greetings, which she returned with a gracious smile. Amelia exuded an air of perfect grace and beauty, her every movement deliberate and poised, reinforcing her image as a benevolent yet powerful leader. It wouldn’t do to get out of practice just because these people were unlikely to see her again once she left to rejoin Leonard.
She made her way through the town, silence falling in her wake. Her sharp eyes cataloged even the most subtle changes in the populace. People bowed their heads as she passed but were careful not to be overly deferential, showing that while the locals had kept away from her, they still took the time to learn the Revolution’s way of doing things. Amelia’s elegant dress, a rich fabric of deep burgundy with black embroidery, contrasted starkly with the simpler attire of the townsfolk, but not enough to paint her as a wasteful noble. Her raven-black hair was intricately styled, and her steps were as silent and deliberate as a cat stalking its prey.
Arriving at the mansion where House Saltwater was held, Amelia was greeted by the soldiers guarding the entrance. They snapped to attention, saluting her with disciplined precision. "Minister," they chorused, opening the grand doors to allow her inside. She didn’t particularly care for the mode of address, but it was important to spread awareness of the new reality, and soft power found much more fertile ground when people were already used to respecting protocol.
The mansion's interior was opulent, filled with lavish furnishings and rich tapestries. She could have had them removed as she had done in the nearby buildings, but she thought the constant reminder that they still had something to lose would help keep them in line.
Amelia’s keen senses detected the hurried footsteps and hushed whispers of servants scurrying to alert their masters of her arrival. She smiled, amused by the household's frantic attempts to appear composed and unbothered by her unexpected visit.
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They can try to keep me ignorant all they like, but I have eyes inside their walls.
She could see the nobles snapping orders, attempting to maintain an air of dignity despite their obvious agitation. Servants hurried to dress the Lady of the house while the Lord paced around his room.
A stern-faced maid in crisp attire eventually led Amelia to a grand sitting room. The room was decorated with intricate tapestries depicting the previous owner’s history, and the furniture was upholstered in rich, dark fabrics. The Lord and Lady Saltwater awaited her, seated with forced elegance and wearing finely tailored clothing that spoke of their wealth and status as the premier nobles in a trading town. Lord Saltwater wore a dark green velvet doublet adorned with silver embroidery, while Lady Saltwater was clad in a deep blue silk gown, her neck and fingers adorned with glittering jewels.
She would have thought they’d try to appease her “sensibilities” as a revolutionary and dress less ostentatiously, but it seemed they were doing it as an act of quiet rebellion. Their will hadn’t broken yet.
Delightful. It would have been a pity if they lost hope too quickly.
“Lady Barks, what an unexpected pleasure,” Lord Saltwater greeted her. His voice was smooth, but he couldn’t completely hide the underlying tension he felt from her gaze.
“Indeed,” Lady Saltwater added, her smile brittle. “To what do we owe the honor of your visit? You must be busy since you are governing the town by yourself.”
If that was a dig at her unmarried status, Amelia didn’t know, but she found great amusement in the fact that this ant believed she could judge her. “Ah, just checking in on my guests’ good health. Nothing wrong with that, right?”
“Of course,” Lord Saltwater replied, his jaw tight. “Though we do look forward to the day when all this unpleasantness can be left behind.”
Again, with the doublespeak. I should play with the nobles more often. They are so amusing.
“Ah, yes, I’m sure that day will come soon enough,” Amelia said with a smile that was just wide enough to make Lady Saltwater shift uncomfortably. “Until then, I must commend you on how well you’ve adapted to your temporary lodgings. It’s not easy, I imagine, to be displaced so suddenly.”
The Lord and Lady exchanged a glance, their discomfort palpable. “We manage,” Lord Saltwater said, his voice strained.
Amelia’s smile widened even more. “How wonderful. I was told that your new neighbors are being a bit rowdy, but I’m sure you can understand how being freed from slavery would warrant some merriment.”
Lady Saltwater's face twitched, barely maintaining her composure. “Yes, well, we understand that they are... excited,” she said through gritted teeth.
“Indeed,” Amelia continued, her tone light enough to avoid being considered openly mocking. “I’ve made sure to assign them to the nearby mansions, spreading them all around the quarter, and set aside a portion of the loot for their sake. They seem much happier now.”
“To peasants? To slaves?!” The Lord ground out, looking like he was restraining himself from jumping out of his chair only because he knew it wouldn’t end well.
“Oh, of course,” Amelia replied lightly, enjoying the reaction. “After all, everyone deserves a chance at a better life, don’t they? The principle of freedom for everyone lights the way forward for us all. I am but a loyal member of the revolution and follow the will of the Grand Marshal.”
The tension in the room was thick enough to cut with a knife. The Lord and Lady Saltwater’s facade of composure was cracking, their thin veneer of civility strained to its limits. Amelia savored the moment, the thrill of dominance electrifying her senses.
Before she could see whether they would break, her game was interrupted. A shadeling emerged from below the table, hurrying to stand up and mimicking a soldier as it lifted a chubby hand to salute her. “Big News!” It cried.
Amelia thought it was adorable, but her two companions didn’t seem to agree. They shrieked madly, jumping away from the table and rushing to the room’s corner, eyes wide open in fear.
Lips twitching as she tried to stop the laughter that wanted to spring forth, Amelia lowered her gaze gracefully to look at the minor spirit.
Seeing that it had her attention, it reported, “The big group of humans is coming this way!”
Amelia smiled. Her trap had worked. Without bothering to explain herself, she turned and left the sitting room, her steps as measured and poised as ever. She could feel their eyes boring into her back, their silent fury almost tangible. Amelia allowed herself a small, satisfied smile as the doors closed behind her.
Shadows enveloped her, and she traveled through their inky depths, reappearing on the walls with practiced ease.
The lookout stationed there startled at her sudden arrival, nearly dropping his spyglass. He hurriedly bowed once he realized who had surprised him. “My lady!”
Amelia didn’t acknowledge him, her attention fixed on the horizon. She scanned the northwestern road, casting a quick [Eagle Eye] to enhance her range, and spotted a distant dust cloud that signaled the approaching army. “Good,” she murmured to herself. “He didn’t have a choice with us so close to Volten, but I was wondering if he had noticed anything off with how much time he was taking.”
Her unwitting spy in the enemy camp—who turned out to be Count Pollus’ adjutant—had allowed her to learn much about how the Count handled things, but she hadn’t been able to discover the specifics of the man’s plans because he kept them securely locked inside his head, never sharing them even with his most trusted advisors. That had left her in a limbo of sorts, where she’d know the moment the army moved, but was stuck in place without being able to do more to draw it out, as she risked overextending.
Turning to the lookout, she commanded, “Sound the bells. We must be ready to greet our guests.” The lookout scrambled to obey, leaving Amelia alone to watch the horizon.
When Leonard first assigned her this mission, she saw it as an extension of her duties. As the second most powerful person in the Revolution, she was the natural choice for such a complicated and risky maneuver. But after spending so much time and effort building up the eastern flank, Amelia found that she didn’t want to let it fall apart.
Her initial plan had been to force Count Pollus away from the southwest, and once she had secured Leonard enough time to take Treon, she’d leave. Now, she intended to make the man pay in blood for every inch of territory he would take. She couldn’t hope to win in a direct engagement with the troops she had, but she could make continuing the fight untenable.
She allowed herself a moment of satisfaction. This was the culmination of weeks of planning and manipulation. Now, all that remained was to see it through to the end. The game was about to reach its climax, and Amelia intended to enjoy every moment of it.