27 Tavorhel. The twenty-fourth day of the eighth month.

It was night. Eight noblemen sat together at a round table, the chandeliers above lighting up the otherwise spacious, cold dining hall. Servants attended to each of the men’s needs, standing by their sides like statues when not called upon. There were no women present in the hall, the men’s wives being located in another hall where they could have their gossip away from serious matters.

‘Our gratitude to Duke Hreil for hosting this gathering,’ a noble said as he stood and raised his silver cup.

‘Indeed, our gratitude.’ The six other guests followed, raising their cups towards the host: an old man sat on an exceedingly large cushioned chair, his extravagant attire meticulously clean. Five servants stood behind him, their strong and youthful builds a sharp contrast with the duke’s frail, weak body.

‘No, no, it is a pleasure to have you gentlemen here,’ Duke Hreil replied, slowly waving his hand in a gesture for the guests to sit down.

He looked at the guests, seven men who had been loyal allies to his cause for the past few decades. They achieved their prestige before Tavorhel was king. They held up the kingdom at its darkest moments and witnessed it at its brightest. They negotiated ceasefires, created alliances and invested into trade deals. They were the ones who helped cautiously maintain the balance of power on the continent, preserving all that was good in their time.

They were known as the Traditionalists, a name that sometimes held negative connotations, but they didn’t mind. Without them and their political allies, Trelven would’ve been defeated by Rhinn long ago.

‘Now, let’s get to the point, shall we? What do you think of the recent developments with the Forester rebellion?’

‘It could’ve just been an annoyance, but the incompetence of General Arael has led to this embarrassing situation,’ a noble, Count Firorv, commented. ‘An absolute disgrace.’

‘It’ll certainly cause a disruption in the flow of communications and goods between the capital and the northern provinces,’ a second noble, Count Limoriol added. ‘Not the best situation for you and your assets, is it, Firorv?’

‘I’m afraid so,’ Firorv answered. ‘I’m sure your holdings in Vil are also affected, Limoriol.’

‘A pity,’ Hreil said. Firorv and Limoriol weren’t directly managing their estates far away in the north, but they still held responsibilities for those lands. Without access to a chunk of their income, their power would be indirectly diminished. All because of incompetence from the military which they had supported and invested in over many years.

‘I’ve received news that the Guild will be sending an envoy to discuss the Forester problem before the end of the year,’ a third, Duke Saorvhel, spoke. ‘They probably haven’t received news of Arael’s death and the Prince’s capture yet, but we should be prepared when dealing with their representatives. The next few years’ supply of mercenaries depends on how we handle this rebellion.’

‘There’s also the upcoming Assembly at the beginning of next year’s spring. I will be attending that as part of my duties. Assuming we have crushed the rebellion by then, we can still maintain the balance of war there,’ Hreil added.

The Mercenaries’ Guild, however lawless it was, was Hreil’s greatest extranational support. They were the ones that ruled the forests, the organisation not belonging to any kingdom yet not completely an independent state. It was the closest thing to neutrality in this war. Offering Forester soldiers to both Trelven and Rhinn, it could not be attacked by any side.

It had been years since Hreil last went to their headquarters, a fortress complex nestled deep in the Irrenl Mountains. He wondered if his old, cunning friend Leio was still Guildmaster after all these years. Perhaps Yurhis, the regent of Rhinn, would pay a visit as well. It had been a while since the three of them sat together discussing the matters of the continent, after all.

Ah, the good old days where the kings respected their private dealings in order to protect the benefits of all. King Tavorhel was still like that, but Crown Prince Amovishel… Hreil didn’t particularly like the young, reckless lad.

War was ultimately a business for the Guild, and as long as Hreil, representing Trelven, was able to find a use for the Forester troops, the balance would still stand. Yurhis surely understood that as well.

Yet there was now a wrench thrown into the perfect system: the Forester rebellion in Eril. It harmed Trelven’s prestige, but the Guild would certainly also take a hit to its reputation. Rhinn would take advantage, and with the Guild looking for profits, soon the Foresters would all desert Trelven. At the end, because of a single blunder, the kingdom would fall.

Those stupid Foresters had no idea what their tiny revolt was doing to the complex system he and the others had spent their entire lives trying to maintain.

‘Duke Hreil, we should request the king to involve more reserves or perhaps move more troops from the western coastal cities to the north,’ a fourth, Count Etion, asked. ‘Including several generals and elite units.’

Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.

‘Isn’t Commander-General Esiel already heading towards Maerila?’ Hreil inquired. It wasn’t that he was opposed to it, but he simply wanted to hear what answer Etion would give.

‘I believe he, at the very least, needs more support,’ Etion answered. ‘Ideally, the commander-general should not be even in charge of this, but as the king has already given him permission to take over, it’ll undermine royal authority to rapidly change his mind. Still, I believe with the commander-general’s nature against the Foresters, we may see our relations with the Guild sour whether in victory or defeat.’

Hreil nodded in satisfaction. ‘Correct. Commander-General Esiel may be the most effective commander in our kingdom, but to use him against the rebellion only harms everyone except himself.’

‘The man has no respect for the bigger picture,’ a fifth, Duke Wrahiel, added. ‘At best, he crushes the rebellion quickly and rescues Prince Amovishel, leading to the whole fiasco being just a minor obstacle against our usual plans. At worst, he blows everything out of proportion and causes permanent damage between us and the Guild. This is something that actually benefits him as he hates even the presence of Foresters in his ranks, but in the grand scheme of things, it will only lead us to our ruin.’

‘He also has just too much pride,’ a sixth, Count Orihel, mentioned. ‘He believes all of us to be incompetent, whether Traditionalist or Progressive. Without the king, the man is just a warrior, unable to grasp the intricacies of politics, only being immersed in his fantasies of battle.’

‘And to speak so rashly against the king,’ Wrahiel responded again. ‘Who does he think he is? Not even the prince speaks like this. I’m surprised he hasn’t been executed yet. The kingdom simply has no need for brutes like him.’

‘I agree.’

‘Duke Wrahiel’s correct.’

‘One word from the king, and the commander-general’s head will roll.’

‘I believe our king is aware of this,’ Hreil said. ‘But he has little choice in this matter given his priorities. The rescue of the prince holds even more importance than the long-term future of the kingdom. Esiel is naturally the best candidate due to his efficiency in war-related matters, even if he is… stupid regarding court manners. Personally, I think it is a foolish decision, but as loyal advisors to the king, we need to give our support and conjure up further plans.’

‘And that is to also focus on rescuing the Crown Prince?’ Limoriol asked.

‘Yes. Unfortunately so.’

As much as Hreil saw Esiel as someone unsuitable to hold his office, Amovishel was arguably worse for the kingdom as a whole. The young man was competent, but as a mixed-blood, he was automatically unfit to rule Trelven. What Trelvenese would accept a mixed-blood as their king? There would be no credibility to the crown after Amovishel, and gradually, the kingdom would fall apart.

It was a shame that the king would not take another woman as his wife after the death of the queen. Hreil himself had four wives and six children, three of them also having children of their own. If the ruler of the kingdom couldn’t produce a pure heir to continue the bloodline, then what was the point of maintaining the kingdom?

‘What should we do from this point forth then, Duke Hreil?’ Orihel asked. ‘I believe Etion’s suggestion can be considered, but there are probably better solutions to this crisis.’

‘Hmm…’ Hreil pondered. ‘Ah, Laiel, you have been rather quiet this entire time. Do you have anything to suggest for us?’

The final member of the round table was silent. Hreil didn’t particularly blame him. Sharing the same name as his grandfather, Laiel was by far the youngest of the eight and haven’t been completely used to their manner of talking just yet.

However, allowing a platform for the man to speak should be enough for the count to open his mouth.

‘Why not we allow things to pan out until the Guild’s envoy arrives?’ Laiel finally spoke after much deliberation.

‘And what would that mean, young Laiel?’ Saorvhel questioned.

‘Allow me to be straight, but we have always been quite reactionary to the developments in the kingdom,’ Laiel pointed out. ‘We’re slow to make an initiative, but when we do make a decision, it’s decided quickly after one of these meals. By rushing to a decision now, we might end up harming the balance even further.’

‘Why wait until the Guild sends its envoy here, then?’ Hreil asked slowly.

‘The key to maintaining the balance of the war lies in the Guild,’ Laiel explained. ‘If we focus our attention on our relationship with the Guild, no matter the result of Esiel’s actions, the balance will soon be restored. I’d rather we stay low for now and prepare ourselves rather than diving into things with too many variables.’

And that was why Laiel could inherit his grandfather’s place at the round table.

‘The younger mind certainly adds more to a council of the old,’ Limoriol complimented. ‘Firorv, your thoughts?’

‘Depending on how fast the rebellion spreads across the north, it is a fine idea,’ Firorv said.

‘Then Laiel’s suggestion will be implemented for now,’ Hreil concluded. ‘Any objections?’

None raised their voice.

‘Well then, let’s eat.’

Under the chandelier light, the men finally began indulging in their food, their minds taken off work for a while. Tonight, it was fish transported from the river and cooked into various dishes. As long as everything stayed the same as it was, the men could continue playing their roles for decades, perhaps even centuries to come, protecting the kingdom with their influence and power. The battlefields were only stages of violent interaction, to paint a picture of an enemy in the population’s minds.

The balance of war was what kept Trelven, Rhinn, and their respective vassal states alive and thriving. As Hreil bit into a piece of fish from his soup, the soft texture melting in his mouth, he thought of the Traditionalists’ efforts in this war. Without the fragile balance of the status quo, they would not be enjoying this delicious meal inside the comfortable confines of the capital.

He could only feel pity for the Foresters, an unfortunate cost in the war. But alas, this was all necessary to his cause.