by Nic Weissman
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General Bellish had always liked to take strolls. It was a beautiful autumn afternoon and he had to take advantage of the days when the weather was conducive to go out and take some air; too many hours in those rough and boring palace halls, often invested in small political issues, palace intrigue and other stupid discussions. How many times had he missed his years in the field when he was a knight! And then when he ascended to the middle-rankings in the Royal Army!
The old general thought best when he took a stroll and the doctors said they also helped him stay fit. The years of long rides astride his steed Nemerulak in full armor, a long shield, sword and mace, were long gone. What a fantastic rider he had been in his days as a knight! The majors and colonels who were the most flatterers told him that there had been none like him. Obviously, they exaggerated with the useless intention of wanting to win his favor.
Of all the places to walk, one of his favorites was the Jasmine Garden, extending from the northern part of the estate surrounding the Royal Castle. It was a beautiful, harmonious place and fantastically kept by the royal gardeners. It had a long, wide main street with several smaller roads diverged to the sides. In different areas of the garden one could admire a great variety of flowers of all kinds. But the middle of the main street was covered exclusively by jasmines that perfumed the whole park with the slightest blow of wind.
Besides its beauty, one of the great perks of the place was its proximity to the Royal Castle, where the Royal Army had its headquarters and where he spent most of his hours. It was very convenient. Whenever he felt weighed down, he could leave the castle and within minutes was in the Garden.
Another advantage was that the royal stables were located east of the garden. Although it was a long walk to get there, it was always worth it. Bellish adored horses. And those who were in those stables were the most beautiful of the kingdom. There were thoroughbreds of nearly all races, even the noble and brave horses of the Aurum Emirates. What fantastic animals! In his time as a knight, it was not so easy to import something as bulky as a horse from so far away. Only the rich and the nobility could afford a luxury like that back then. Even today, it proved extraordinarily difficult, since the Emirs controlled with great care how many horses were sold and to whom. You could say it was part of its State policy. Bor was too far away to be a crucial ally of the Emirates, although the relations were reasonably good at the present time.
After a while, he got to the golden pond, where different-colored fish brought from the lakes of the other countries swam carefree. Then the General felt a shiver throughout his body. He had felt that feeling many times. He knew what it meant.
“Hi, Mengul. It's been a couple of months since I last saw you. How have you been?” he said, as he turned to the newcomer.
“Busy,” a figure that was covered by the shade of a nearby tree said.
The strange figure had appeared suddenly, as usual. Although it was difficult to see the man's features in detail, you could see he was very old. He wore a long black robe that covered his entire body and his head was also covered by a hood. His back was slightly bent, probably because of his age. His aquiline nose was inquiring. But the most striking feature was his eyes: extraordinarily bright, alert, intelligent, scrutinizing. It seemed that nothing could escape the scalpel analysis of those eyes.
“What brings you to this garden? Surely it's not the desire to accompany an old acquaintance on his morning walk,” the General inquired.
“Sure,” the old man replied curtly.
“And? What? What do you need?” Bellish asked, impatient.
“I don't need anything. I have come to speak about disturbing rumors I've heard.”
Bellish looked at the old man, but said nothing. He waited.
“It seems that certain factions of power in Bor plan to obtain a very powerful object: the Orb of Wrath. It is possible that at this time it's already in their possession.”
“Does such a thing even exist? I thought it was an old legend, a story for children.”
“Oh, yes. It exists. I can assure you. Although it had been lost for a long time.”
“But in the stories that were told, huge calamities were caused by that device. There was talk of wars, disasters, famine. This seems very serious.”
“It is.”
“Let's walk together to a more secluded part of the garden, while we speak,” the General suggested.
Although it produced him a strange feeling of unease to walk away from the most visible areas of the garden with his companion, he decided he needed to walk to think. He also wanted to prevent any servant from hearing such dangerous news.
“Do you know who is involved?” Bellish said.
“Not quite. But it points to certain sectors of the Chamber, let's say the most progressive ones, and from the nobility. It's possible that the Army is also involved.”
The word “army” sounded like a knife in his head. But the old general was not particularly surprised. There was a lot of politics and many agendas in the Army as well and not everyone understood the military life as a pure service to the country. Some saw it more as an opportunity for personal growth.
“Let's see, then. If the orb is a powerful object, that in experienced hands can be used to provoke a war, and if they are held by the groups you mention, what do they intend to do with it? Are they thinking of starting a civil war between counties? Are they trying to unseat the King amid the confusion? Segregate a part of the country?”
“Everything is possible. It is hard to be sure. “
“What would they get with all of this?” the General asked.
“The war generates lucrative and various businesses. Many would benefit. Especially if they are prepared for it,” the old man mused.
“True. But a scenario of civil war is very chaotic. Other businesses would suffer. At least until the situation wasn't resolved with a segregation of the country.”
“I agree, but there is another scenario that we must consider.”
The general pondered for a moment and suddenly understood.
“A war with the orcs!” he exclaimed.
“Exactly,” the old man said.
“That would bring some of the benefits of the war, but would keep the country united. In addition, the Marks have always been more belligerent against the orcs, for obvious reasons. Some of the marquis are very young and probably just conceive the easy and romantic side of the war, probably because they have never experienced one.”
“And then there's the Army,” the old man added.
“Some would try to seize the excuse of a large-scale campaign to demote me into the background,” the general understood. “That son of a bitch Vargarr must be involved in this.”
The old man didn't answer. He pulled back and sat on a bench under the shade of a namal: a majestic tree. The general approached him, sat down beside him and lowered his voice.
“What can we do? What have you thought?”
“There is an option we can try. It is very risky, but now I see no other solution. In addition we have little time, we should start several preparations.”
“What do you need me to do?” the General asked.
“Nothing.”
“I don't understand,” Bellish said, surprised.
“You must stick to your agenda and activities. If you change anything, our enemies might perceive that you know something of what they are up to. We'd lose our only advantage: an advantage that is worth very little now, unless we can understand in more detail how and when they might act.”
“You're right. Meanwhile, I'll ask two of the men of my utmost confidence to be vigilant. We should meet again soon,” the general requested.
“I know where to find you. We'll talk.”
When the general took notice, he was sitting alone in that bench in the shade. The feeling of uneasiness he had felt was gone. But it had been replaced by a deep concern, because the situation could be mortally dangerous. His enemie
s were right about something. He was too old for certain things.
CHAPTER 5: THE MANSION ON THE HILL