Steel Wolves of Craedia (Realm of Arkon, Book 3) (39 page)

I put a bit of smoked meat into my mouth and chewed it in contemplation.
I'm going to miss Vaessa. Sorely. And not just as a soldier, but personally,
I thought with sadness. 

"Tomorrow morning I'll announce the enlistment of fighters and novices," the captain refilled our glasses, and scratched his chin. "I am truly saddened that I cannot come with you, dar."

"Perhaps, but you'll surely have an easier time here than we will out there," I chuckled. "Dar Elnar will oversee recruitment—I'll tell him to come see you tomorrow. Oh, about Lieta and the other children of soldiers lost in the Derelict Temple. I want you to see that they're not wanting for anything. If you need money, just let me know." 

"You're a strange governor, dar," Kargal chuckled before finishing his wine. "We've discussed soldiers and novices, and even the children, but you haven't asked a single question about the state of affairs in the province, nor about the size of our coffers. Here," he handed me a brown leather-bound ledger. "Inside you'll find all the figures for this and previous year, as well as what's in the treasury currently. I wouldn't have made heads or tails of it without the young daressa," he sighed. "The satrap made sure his daughter got a good education." 

Great, now I was an accountant. A new class in the game, designed especially for me. I opened the ledger, glanced at the tables, and put it away. Accounting was undoubtedly important, critical even, but money wasn't a top priority for me at the moment. 

"I have an excuse—I've just become a governor an hour ago," I said. "Just give me the basics: receipts and expenditures, how much is in the treasury currently, and whether we have any iron in there." 

"At present the treasury has thirty two thousand seven hundred eighty three coins, dar. Last year's revenue was slightly over twenty six thousand, and expenses amounted to about twenty four thousand. I don't remember the exact figures, but it's all in the ledger. As for iron, no, we don't have any in the treasury. Why would we? Iron isn't mithril. We store iron in storehouses in the industrial district—that's just outside a city, a mile or so from the southern gates. Five years ago Satrap Rumpel had moved many plants outside the city to cut down on the noise. And the smell." 

"Makes sense," I nodded, lighting up. "Are there a lot of horses in the satrapy?"

"Enough to accommodate four centuries," Kargal smiled. "Plus, many will come with their own. Oh, and..." the captain frowned and looked away. "You should go see Lieta, dar. She's had it rough of late. Losing her parents, and now with all these changes..." 

"I'll do that as soon as we're done here. And since it appears that we're done talking, I just need to finish my pipe," I pointed at the pipe in my hand. "Where do I find Lieta, by the way?" 

"On the third floor, in the children's quarters," the captain said. "I'll take you there when you're ready."

Ten minutes later Kargal and I were climbing up to the third floor of the castle. 

"She's a really great kid, dar," the captain said, his voice breaking, when we stopped outside carved white doors. "We all love her very much, and—"

"I don't intend on hurting her in any way. In fact, I think that young tiflings should be moved somewhere in the castle together with the children of soldiers that had perished in the temple. The princedom is going to need punishers in the future, so let's start training them now. Think of what you're going to need to make that happen, and report back tomorrow." Upon dismissing the captain, I opened the doors and entered the children's quarters, finding myself in a reception draped with lime-green velvet. 

I found Lieta in the next room. The red-haired girl in a plain dress was sitting on a made bed, holding a large rag doll and gazing out the window in contemplation. The knock on the door gave her a start, and she turned to look at me. 

Suddenly my mouth was dry, and my breath was stuck in my throat. The young daressa looked so much like my little sister when she was her age that if you put the two of them together, you could only tell them apart by Lieta's little horns and her tail, decorated with a red ribbon. What was happening? Was my consciousness slipping me familiar images, or was I slowly going crazy?

In the meantime, the girl had put her doll aside, climbed off the bed and walked over to me, stopping a few feet away. 

"Hi," I greeted the young mistress of the castle in a hoarse voice. 

"Greetings, Dark One. Thank you for ridding Gilthor of the plague," the girl spoke in a flat, listless voice. "Are you here to kill me?" 

"What?" I frowned, taken aback by her question. "Why would I kill you?"

"I am my father's sole rightful heiress," the girl said in the same listless voice. "This satrapy is mine by birthright. I am in your way, Dark One."

"You were sitting here, waiting for me to come and kill you?" I muttered.

"Yes," she wasn't denying it. "Even if you don't want the satrapy, you have many loyal fighters you could award it to."

"I see," I nodded. "Does that mean you plan on not being loyal to me?"

"What do I have to do with it?" the daressa shrugged. "I am still a child. I haven't distinguished myself before you in any way."

What a mad, mad world. Here was this ten-year-old girl, standing there and waiting for me to kill her. I was the first to break, taking a step forward and whisking her up in my arms. Holding the girl tight, I whispered to her:

"My sweet child, I'm not going to kill you, and I don't intend to take this satrapy from you. Firstly, I don't kill children. And secondly, it wouldn't even make any sense."

The fear on her face gave way to mindful timidity. Once the girl finally believed me that she wasn't in any danger, she broke down and cried.

"Why wouldn't it make sense?" she sobbed.

"Do you think I have so many nobles that I can sacrifice them just like that? Or is Craedia so small that there's not enough land for my soldiers? Have you forgotten that Gilthor has two more provinces which we could build out with towns and castles? And last but not least, how do you think Kargal would manage without you when I leave him here as my deputy?" I smiled, stroking the girl's fiery locks.

"You're strange, even for an elder," she said softly, her voice finally calm. "There's never enough land, and all your reasons aren't worth a damn. It's just that for some reason you can't—or don't want to—kill a child."

"And you're a strange child for asking such questions," I said gently.

"It's how my father raised me," Lieta said. "You can only trust your own kin. Everyone else doesn't care about you, and, if given the chance, would readily trade you for anything that better suits their needs."

"Well, I wasn't raised that way," I grunted. "And I only became an elder less than two weeks ago. So cut me some slack—I need time to mend my ways and slaughter all the kids in the princedom. And gobble them up afterwards," I put the child back on the bed, and gave a sly wink. "And guess who I'm going to gobble up first? A certain red-headed heiress who thinks she's reaaal smart!"

"You're jesting," she smiled through the tears.

"Answer me this, please," I folded my arms over my chest and looked down on Lieta, trying to impart as much warmth and comedy through my words and face as I could muster. "Suppose there's a great celebration happening. Now, where should the city's future governess be? All alone on her bed, crying and hugging her doll?"

"But I thought—"

"Let's not rehash that again," I protested. "Now, daressa, will you do me the honor of accompanying me for an excursion around town?"

"It would be my pleasure, dar," the girl hopped off the bed and did a little curtsy. "Just give me thirty minutes to get ready."

"I'll wait for you in the other room, then," I spun on my heels and made for the antechamber.

"Krian! Did you really give that dreadful Kirym a ride on your black boar?"

"You want a ride, too?"

"Of course! Otherwise I'll hear no end of it, and I—"

"Well, in that case, it's a matter of great political urgency," I gave several quick nods.

"Thank you," squealed the future governess of Mishtah. "I'll be really quick!"

The tiflingess and I rode out of the castle not half an hour later. The girl was in much better spirits, and Gloom seemed utterly delighted, as if perfectly aware of just who he was carrying. It took another half an hour to finally make it to the city gates, as the roads were swarming with revelers. Judging by the demons' reactions seeing her on the razorback before me, Lieta was indeed adored by everyone in the city.

As for Mishtah itself, something incredible was happening! The celebration reminded me of my last Halloween in San Francisco, the main difference being that then all the demons and other monsters were fake, whereas here there weren't any actual humans. The females were attired in tight, seductive outfits, and the males wore colorful tunics with wide flapping sleeves. Most extraordinarily, despite the liberal portions of booze being served on set tables every teen-fifteen feet, I saw zero instances of rowdy or disruptive drunken antics.

Once we were five hundred yards or so out of the city, I popped Gloom's Charge without warning, and we zoomed through the next two hundred yards as the girl shrieked with fear and delight. There weren't any roller-coasters in this world, but I supposed this was the next best thing.
 After about an hour and a half of this—waiting for the cooldown to reset, then popping Charge as Lieta squealed with delight—the daressa led me back along a route only she knew.

We would turn down tiny alleys and stop by many different tables where we'd greet the revelers and I would drink beer while Lieta chatted with stately demons, both male and female, as they sneaked wary glances in my direction. I soon realized that the girl was trying to bolster my authority among the city's elite... In the world I came from, a ten-year-old child couldn't behave like this by default. At least that had been my experience, though certainly much depended on the child's immediate environment and upbringing. Still, at that moment I couldn't imagine a better ruler for Mishtah.

Our tour of the city lasted quite a while, and I couldn't get hammered like I'd been hoping to—I didn't want to be seen in that state in public. But it didn't matter, as I was having a great time. As dusk began to fall and very particular female moaning sounds started coming from virtually every corner, which the tiflingess shouldn't be hearing on account of her impressionable young age, and which I shouldn't be hearing for altogether different reasons, I took Lieta back to her quarters in the castle. 

"Thank you for a wonderful evening, dar. I haven't smiled since the day my parents perished, but today..."

"Something tells me that wasn't our last walk," I smiled to the girl.

"Tell me, Krian, who's Alyona?" Lieta looked up at me, peering into my eyes. "You've called me by that name seven times today."

"That's the name of my sister. She's somewhere on Karn as we speak, and I absolutely need to find her," I sighed. "You look so much like her..." 

"I'm positive you will find her, Dark One. Thank you, and see you tomorrow," the girl pulled on my waistcoat, forcing me to bend down a little, then got up on her tiptoes and pecked me on the cheek. The next moment she was gone, sealed behind the decorative white doors.

I kept standing there a while, trying to ascertain my next move. I didn't want to booze any more tonight, nor go anywhere for long; in the end I slipped my pipe in my mouth and made for my private quarters. Tomorrow promised to be another crazy day, and I could use a good night of sleep.

The castle's steward, a tall elderly demon, offered me the satrap's quarters. But since I needed my private room I refused the offer, using the excuse of not being a satrap yet, and requested the keys to one of the rooms on the third floor instead. 

Once in my room, I took a quick shower, opened a bottle of cider and settled in front of a monitor. I wasn't going to fall asleep anyway, not after it had dawned on me on the way here that I had no idea what classes, and in what quantity, I was going to need for my soon-to-be half-legion. That thought, aided by a brief cold shower, had kicked my buzz and drowsiness right out the window.

Pouring myself a tankard of foamy cider, I suddenly got a sense of déjà vu. It hadn't been three months since I was conceiving my build in that Lamorna inn, and here I was conceiving a build for my clan. I took a big gulp from the tankard, then took a deep drag on the pipe, held the smoke for a few moments and let it out through my teeth.

What was it I wanted? The answer came the moment my thoughts articulated the question: I wanted to win without sustaining any casualties. Ever. That meant every one of my fighters, both tanks and damage dealers, needed to remain within the range of one or two healers so that the latter could keep them out of the grave. How could I accomplish this task? Break down the half-legion into standard groups of five, comprising a tank, one melee and one ranged dps, a mage and a healer? Poppycock! That kind of breakdown worked well in a dungeon, but definitely wouldn't fly in an open field. The tasks required of each class were too diverse and would take the characters all over the map, likely beyond the range of the group's healer. Should I spread the priests around and instruct them to heal whoever fell within their healing range? An even dumber idea. As the saying goes, too many cooks spoil the broth. How, pray tell, should a priest determine healing priority? By whoever had the least health? Great, but then expect a dozen other priests within healing range to do the exact same thing, resulting in constant overhealing and wasted mana. Even more importantly, with too many priests overhealing one target, other units in need of healers' attention were bound to get overlooked. No, this wasn't a viable option.