King Conall VI sat in the window seat of his chambers in Castle Carrick, basking in the morning sun and looking out across the River Conn at Carrick Town — city, really, 20,000 or more inhabitants were just a bit much for a town. But “Town” had been included in the name when it was founded in 1812, when the last of the orcs had been driven into the Great Desert, to make their way across to the Orclands (or not, leaving their bones in the desert). It hadn’t been changed in 1822, when the Emperor of Megalos summoned the third son of the Duke of Craine, the organizer and leader of the colonization effort, to the Imperial capital to officially extend the borders of Megalos to include the County of Caithness with Conall the first count. Nor had the name been changed in 1826 when Count Conall cut himself and his county free of Megalos by declaring himself King Conall I and made the town the capital of his new realm. So Carrick Town it remained.
At least, it will if the Megalans don’t rename it when they finally overrun Caithness. They’ve tried often enough in the past, and they’ll try again. And with this damned civil war, they might just succeed next time, he thought grimly, and looked over at the large map hanging on his chamber wall, his eyes tracing the western border of his realm, along the edge of the Great Desert from the mountains of Zarak in the north, down to the Great Forest and around its western edge. Tacitus is faithful, but Wallace below it is in rebellion as is Ferrier below Wallace. Simonton below Ferrier is neutral — and I can’t say I blame Lord Walton for staying that way, after the way the lording of Blythe was overrun by reptile men from the desert and most of the fighting men of Harkwood were killed in a rebel ambush. I suppose I should be happy he’s just staying on the the fence, instead of joining the rebels however much he detests Cabble.
For a moment, Conall’s eyes rested on the Barony of Harkwood below Simonton, bounded by the Great Forest to its south and an arm of the Great Desert to its north. And just what are the elves up to? he wondered. I suppose I should be grateful for the elven archers and swordsmen that marched out of the Great Forest and claimed they were there to help defend Harkwood from orcs and reptile men — and incidentally the rebels — so the barony didn’t end up like Blythe to the southwest. I just wish I understood what they hope to gain out of their generosity!
But after a moment, Conall’s eyes returned to Wallace. Wallace is the key, he thought. If Lord William will abandon the rebels and rejoin me, then Lord Walton will probably bring Simonton in on my side as well. Then with Ferrier boxed in on north and south and the desert to its west, Baron Nabbick will probably rejoin me as well. It isn’t that prosperous a barony to begin with, and having invading armies investing the castle while eating up its flocks wouldn’t be “efficient” — and Baron Nabbick is a great believer in efficiency. That would give me the entire north and west—and maybe even enough fighting men to win when Megalos comes in on the side of the rebels while there’s still a side to offer an excuse.
At that moment, a knock came at the doors and one creaked open to reveal a nervous page, who bowed deeply as soon as he saw his king looking at him. “Your pardon for disturbing you, Your Majesty, but the wizard Myrddin has returned from his embassy to Wallace and craves admittance.”
Carefully suppressing any hint of amusement at the boy’s formality, Conall nodded. “Thank you, Brutus, please show him in and then make sure of our privacy until our discussion is over,” he ordered, and the page bobbed another bow and stepped out. A moment later, a lean man of average height and black hair and long beard shot with gray wearing the robes expected of the court wizard of Caithness stepped through the door and glanced back as young Brutus closed it behind him.
“Now, that is a proper young knight-in-training,” Myrddin observed wryly, and Conall chuckled.
“He’s new, his manners will become more natural as they become more experience and less training,” he observed. “And I was just as stiff and twice as old when you stood at my side at my crowning twenty years ago.”
“True,” Myrddin agreed with a smile at the memory. Then his smile faded as he sat in the chair Conall motioned him to take and the king moved over to his own usual seat and cocked an expectant eyebrow at his old friend and mentor.
“And just what did Lord William say to my offer?” he asked, and Myrddin shook his head.
“I’m afraid nothing has changed,” the older man responded regretfully, and Conall’s hands curled into fists. He jerked to his feet and stalked over to the window he’d been sitting at a few minutes before.
“What can we offer him?” Conall asked in a tired, dispirited voice. “We can’t offer him the Barony of Ferrier to his south, we need its fighting men intact if we are to have a quick and relatively bloodless victory, which we won’t have if we have to conquer it — which we will if we promise it to Lord William, Baron Nabbick is hardly going to rejoin us peacefully if it means giving up his lordship. Besides, Lord William would consider the offer an insult. I suppose we could offer him the Sterling lording to his east, telling him that I’m doing so to give him the power to oppose me if I violate his trust rather than offering him a bribe. But that would make him as personally powerful as I am in wealth and manpower, and I haven’t spend the last twenty years trying to rebuild the power of the throne that vanished with my father’s death when I was six just to toss it away!”
Myrddin sighed and shook his head. “It wouldn’t matter if you promised him the throne itself,” he said. “With all the refugees that fled to the Lording of Wallace when Castle Defiant fell, the offer to personally lead an army across the Great Desert to retake it from the orcs would be enough if he just trusted you. Thanks to the way you used the abortive relief expedition to reveal Lord Deneral as a traitor and take the Barony of Mershall away from him and make it part of the Crown lands, Lord William doesn’t trust you, and so it doesn’t matter what you offer him.”
King Conall stared unseeing out over the city again for a long moment. “You know I intended to lead a second relief force to Castle Defiant’s rescue, but it fell faster than expected — too fast,” he finally said quietly, and Myrddin snorted.
“Oh, I know that, I helped you plan the whole trap from the beginning. But Lord William doesn’t know it, or rather doesn’t believe it.”
“And so we have our stalemate,” Conall said with a sigh, and Myrddin nodded.
“And so we have our stalemate,” he agreed, “and we’d better end it soon. The Sterling Rebellion is already six years old, if it drags on too long the separation will come to be accepted as the natural state of things and we’ll have two minor kingdoms that will be easy meat for the legions when Megalos gets around to snapping us up, however much the deficiency of mana hinders the legions’ battle wizards.”
“Tell me something I don’t know, like how to prevent it,” Conall said sourly, and Myrddin barked laughter.
“When I figure it out, you’ll be the first to know,” he promised.
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