Liar King

Liar King Page 15

by Adam Elliott

“No, you aren’t.” He replied sweetly.

  Before she could form a proper response, the doors at the far side of the throne room opened with a groan of ancient wood on even older hinges. A row of ten guardsmen flanked either side of a small gaggle of individuals, with Roberta at their head.

  They looked a mixed bunch. The lead pair wore earth tones, browns and beige clothing stained with soil and grime. He’d come across enough farmers in his time in Babel, hell, even his time back home, to be able to recognize their kind on sight. Behind them came a more well-dressed female, her clothing free of dust or damage. An aristocrat perhaps? Or something else?

  The older man who brought up the rear of the procession was so heavily armed that Cayden mistook him for a player at first. Only the vibrant, unnatural emerald of the man’s eyes, staring out from beneath a loose shock of red hair, hinted at his true nature.

  In the few minutes they’d had to prepare, Roberta had given him a crash course on what to do, what to say, and how to act with his visitors, but he was already grating against the rules she’d laid down. He felt it was polite to rise to greet guests, but a man of his position was to remain seated and detached. He needed to speak crisply, formally, and most importantly, he needed to choose his words carefully.

  “Greetings, and well met.” Cayden said once the trio had reached the foot of the dais, doing his best to adopt a tone of authority he most certainly did not feel. It had the intended effect on only one of the three petitioners, the farmers taking the customary knee while the latter two merely inclined their heads in greeting. “I have been informed that you have requested an audience.”

  “Yes, M’lord.” The lead pair said in unison, their heads still downcast.

  Now that they were closer, Cayden could see a distinct familial resemblance between the two, the younger of the two burly, tanned Elan the spitting image of his elder. Even their unique coloration, the crop of stark white hair atop their heads seemed to match, though the older man’s was peppered with a handful of black strands. A son then, or perhaps a nephew?

  “Well I must say, it is nice to have visitors.” He smiled despite Roberta’s frown. “You’ve come to speak, so let us speak.”

  “Yes, of course. Thank you.”

  “Preferably with you standing,” Cayden added. “I am as new to this as you are, but I don’t think either of us wants me to be having a conversation with the tops of your heads.”

  That much earned a laugh from the younger of the two, which in turn brought a sharp glance from his senior as the two returned to their feet. “Yes, you are right m’lord. We’ve come to-”

  “My Lord Marshall, if I may?” The well dressed woman interrupted the farmers mid-sentence, “I understand the brief delay in our audience, but surely our matter is more important than anything these two have to say.”

  At Cayden’s left, Silver raised an eyebrow. “And you are?”

  “Dame Gustava Bonaventura.” The woman retorted plainly. “Though I am speaking to the Marshall, not to you.”

  To her credit, Silver didn’t snap back, despite the other woman’s tone. If anything, she appeared bemused by the reply.

  Instead of engaging her, Cayden turned his attention to Roberta. “Which of the three arrived first?”

  “They are currently in the order of arrival. As per your request, Field Marshall.”

  “Thank you, Roberta.” He replied, turning his attention briefly back to Gustava. “If your issue was so pressing that you needed to be the first to speak with me, you should have arrived sooner.” One hand raised to forestall her reply. “I will hear from them, then I will hear from you. Now, gentlemen, where were you?”

  The two exchanged looks before the older of the pair began again. “We’ve come on behalf of a group of nearby homesteads to request assistance securing our lands against local banditry.”

  “How many do you represent?” he asked.

  “Forty-one farms in total, m’lord.”

  “And how many bandits?” This time it was Michael who spoke, leaving the Elan struggling to look between one player and the other.

  “If my companions have questions, you may answer them,” Cayden said with his most reassuring smile.

  The man nodded. “It is difficult to say, a few dozen at most, we believe.”

  “Not exactly a challenge while we have an army at our backs,” Celia remarked.

  “Assuming we don’t just do it ourselves,” Shifty added.

  Cayden wasn’t convinced. “Our assistance is certainly a possibility.” He said, watching a smile blossom on the elder man’s face, only to falter as Cayden continued. “But I have to ask, why us?”

  “M’lord?”

  “You say there are forty farms, each has at least one able-bodied individual, no?” Cayden pressed. “So why not a militia to deal with the issue before now?”

  “It is as you say m’lord. The issue isn’t combating them, it is finding them.”

  “Which means patrols. And scouts.” Silver mused, catching on to Cayden’s concerns. “And time, which we have a limit of.”

  “M’lord, you must-”

  “This isn’t a no.” Cayden interrupted. “You will be our guests here for the night. Once I’ve discussed the issue with my advisors, I will give you my answer.” His attention turned to one of the nearby soldiers. “Escort them to one of the guest quarters, and send for Valserys to question them as soon as he is available.”

  “O-of course M’lord. Thank you.” The older man cast a scathing glance to the youth beside him for having tried to argue the point, then bowed at the waist. “Thank you for your hospitality.”

  Cayden nodded to the two men, trying to contain the wince that threatened a twitch at his left eye. Silver was right, depending on the location of the farms and the amount of effort required to protect them, he might have to turn them down, even if helping them felt like the right thing to do in the moment.

  “Gustava, was it?” He asked then, turning his attention to the next pair in line as the farmers departed the throne room through a side door.

  “Dame Gustava Bonaventura.” The uptight noblewoman replied with visible irritation.

  “Apologies, as I said,I’m rather new at this.” His admission did nothing to mollify her. Indeed, she seemed somehow more irritated by it as he continued. “If there are some formalities I am unaware of, perhaps Roberta can arrange them before we-”

  She shook her head derisively. “No my lord, this will be sufficient.”

  “Then how can we help you?”

  “The mine you recently purged, the one currently held by your troops. We would like it returned.”

  Cayden arched an eyebrow at that. “Returned?”

  “The mine in question is part and parcel of our ancestral lands, bestowed upon the Bonaventura family in perpetuity.”

  “I was… unaware of this.” He glanced to Roberta, who offered only an uncertain shrug by way of reply. “Who bestowed this land upon your family?”

  “Why, the Great Emperor himself.” The Dame replied, her body drawn to rigid attention as if merely saying his name had stiffened her spine.

  To his right, Shifty offered a derisive snort, but Cayden continued without acknowledging it. “Hard to argue with that. Do you have the deed with you?”

  “The Deed?”

  “Is that not the correct word?” He cocked his head to one side as he rattled off alternatives. “The title? Contract? Bill of Sale perhaps?”

  Pride gave way to anger as Gustava’s face twisted into a sneer. “The Great Emperor did not deal in anything so petty as paperwork.”

  “Well, I do. Indeed, the paperwork that I received with my claim of bastion explicitly grants ownership of all terrain and resources within ten miles of the city.”

  “That mine-”

  “Was overrun by Beastmen as recently as this morning.” Cayden interrupted. “You must admit that somewhat weakens any claim you have to o
wnership. Possession being 9/10ths and all.”

  Hands clenched and nostrils flared, but to her credit, Gustava lingered just long enough in her reply to let her anger subside. “We did not have the force to hold the mine.” She admitted. “Which was why I rode for your keep when one of Duke Elazio’s messengers informed me that you had taken possession of the ruins here.”

  “You’ve spoken to the Duke’s messengers?”

  “Yes.”

  “Then you know why I was given possession of the keep, to begin with.” He pressed.

  “I do.”

  “And why I would be understandably reluctant to relinquish control of a nearby iron mine?”

  “My Lord, your needs-”

  Cayden cut her off. “My needs are your needs.” One hand raised to gesture back the way she came. “You saw our walls upon your arrival, yes? All the work that has to be done if this citadel is to be even remotely defensible against what is coming.”

  “I did.” She responded curtly.

  “Then let us help each other.” He replied.

  That seemed to perk her attention. “And how would we do that, my lord?”

  “You have men who would be able to repair and work the mine, now that it is safe once again?” He waited until a nod confirmed his suspicions before continuing. “You have men with no mine to work, and I have a mine with no men presently to work it.”

  Gustava frowned. “You would have me pay for what belongs to me?”

  “My men risked their lives for what belongs to you. It seems only fair.” He retorted. “I would require the whole of the mine’s production for one month. After that, my men will turn possession of it over to you.”

  She considered his offer for several seconds before she shook her head. “I would be sacrificing too much. Half the production.”

  “You have to spend money to make money. Without my soldiers, you would have nothing.” Cayden shot back. “But very well, 4/5ths.”

  “Three-” Gustava started to say, the words dying in her throat as she saw his expression darken and she decided it was best not to press her luck. “One month?”

  “One month.” He nodded.

  “I would have this agreement in writing.” The woman’s mouth twitched with the slightest hint of a smile. “A contract, as you said.”

  “A wise decision.” He chuckled. “I will have Roberta prepare the paperwork for you before the end of the turn.”

  “Turn?” She asked, eyes narrowing as a brief snicker ran through the assembled players.

  “End of the afternoon.” Cayden clarified with some embarrassment.“When is the earliest your men will be able to start?”

  “I can have them here on the morrow.”

  “Excellent.” He replied, ignoring Celia as she tented her fingertips in a decidedly Mr. Burns fashion at his choice of words. “Escort Dame Bonaventura to one of the sitting rooms to await Roberta.”

  As a pair of guardsmen peeled off to obey his instructions, Cayden ushered the last of the three Elan forward with nothing more than a beckoning of his fingertips. Not for the first time, Cayden marveled at how absurd it was for him to be ordering anyone around, let alone Elan nobility.

  “Well met, Field Marshall.” The red-haired man began, a thick but impossible to place accent tinging the words as he strode forward. One hand rested on the jewel encrusted pommel of a sheathed blade, but there was no threat to it, just the calm collectedness of a well-trained swordsman. “I am Azazi, of the Forty-Nine Blades.”

  The words meant nothing to Cayden, but they meant everything to Silver, judging by the way the young woman gasped in surprise and made her way up to stand beside him.

  “Someone I ought to know?” He asked.

  “An NPC mercenary band.” She whispered low enough not to be overheard. “They start showing up in quest chains at floor forty and up. Tread lightly.”

  Cayden nodded, then turned his attention back to the green-eyed warrior. “Well met Azazi, of the Forty-Nine Blades.” He said. “How can I be of assistance to you?”

  “It is quite the reverse, Field Marshall.” The man replied with a hint of bemusement. “Unlike your other guests, I have come not beg of you, but to offer my services to you.”

  “And what services would those be?”

  The forward nature of the question was the right reply, judging by the smirk that continued to spread across Azazi’s face. “They are Two-fold.” The man explained. “I am here on behalf of the Blades to offer services of some of our… lesser companies, to your cause, should you have need of them in your upcoming battles.”

  “A way to spend our Zenni, if nothing else.” Cayden murmured under his breath before raising his voice to be heard once again. “And the other?”

  “The opening of Tombs has opened new possibilities as well.” Azazi’s smirk became a wolfish grin that Cayden found far from reassuring. “There are opportunities available during this war that my organization requires assistance to exploit fully. Well paying opportunities.”

  A quest giver as well then. They’d expected something like this to come along, if only because it wouldn’t be much of an event if the only people able to meaningfully contribute were those selected to run the various fortresses.

  “And where would we find you, assuming we want to take advantage of these services you are offering?” Celia asked.

  Azazi turned his smile in her direction, its edges softening as his eyes studied her in a decidedly less than professional fashion. “Admittedly, I had hoped your Field Marshall would provide me lodgings.”

  “So you do want something from me,” Cayden said wryly.

  “Quite right.” Azazi laughed. Even his laughter seemed to hold a hint of that accent, each chuckle a distinct ‘ha’ as he dipped his head in defeat. “You have caught on to my plan. So what shall be my punishment?”

  “A room in the tower I would think.” It was impossible not to laugh alongside the man, though Cayden wondered just how much of it was an affect rather than genuine humor. “We have an abundance of offices as well If that will suffice.”

  “You are most gracious to this lying man.” He nodded.

  “Well, you can return my gratitude with an answer.”

  “Anything within my knowledge.”

  “Are you the only one of your organization who has presented himself?” Cayden asked.

  Azazi shook his head. “No. There are ten of my brethren dispersed throughout the floor.”

  Well, there goes that plan. Cayden sighed. Having access to the only quest giving NPC could have given him leverage to dictate a more comprehensive strategy to the other players. No such luck.

  “Thank you Azazi.” He said at last.

  “It is my pleasure, Field Marshall.” The man replied.

  “These men will-”

  “Forgiveness, but I have one final gift for you as well.” The warrior’s left hand went to his side, where a scroll was tied to his hip. Deft fingers loosened the knot without looking before he tossed the roll of parchment neatly into Cayden’s lap. “Call it an offer of good faith.”

  Cayden reached for the scroll, then stopped. “This isn’t anything dangerous, is it Azazi?”

  One red eyebrow raised in reply to the question. “What harm could a scroll do?”

  “You would be surprised.” Silver said, taking a half step away from Cayden as the young man began to unroll the document.

  What he found was a map. With all the time he had spent stooped over the War Frame, it took only seconds for Cayden to recognize the area, and correctly orient the page. The map showed Bastion and its environs, out to perhaps fifteen or twenty mile. All the landmarks he expected to find were there, along with a few other
s his scouts had yet to report, a small keep nearby labeled Bonaventura, as well as a spot several miles distant marked, ominously, with a skull.

  “I’m probably going to regret asking this, but what is this skull?”

  Azazi only smiled. “That would be a sub-tomb. One positively brimming with Warden Troops.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  Day Two – Morning Turn

  Resources – F – 260 +10, Z – 260 +10, M – 130 +10, I – 190 +20, P +17, R +10

  Completed – Lower Township Repair II

  “There you are.” Silver said. “We’ve been waiting for you in the courtyard for twenty minutes. We’re going to be late.”

  Cayden looked up from the War Frame. “It’s only…” He started to say before his eyes caught sight of the actual time on his display “Okay, yeah, I’m late.”

  The look of dismay on his features tempered Silver’s irritation, her expression softening as she studied the palpable frustration upon his. “Still trying to puzzle it out.”

  “Thought I’d give it one last go before we headed out, yeah.”

  “And no luck?”

  “None.” Cayden sighed, waving her over.

  It was a familiar sight, one they’d spent much of the previous evening looking at from every possible angle. A Warden tomb thirteen miles from the keep, with three small stacks of miniature soldiers filling the hex before its entrance in what Valserys had termed a Division.

  A division was formed when multiple formations occupied the same hex and could be created from up to ten separate formations. It offered no direct statistical bonuses over formations spread over multiple hexes, but there were plenty of strategic or other tactical advantages. You could ‘hide’ vulnerable units, such as archers within a division, using screening tactics to force enemies to engage your defensive units first. Likewise, you could compress a much larger force into fewer hexes, minimizing the danger of things like hit and run tactics.

  Also, a division would only vacate their hex entirely once all units had been individually forced to retreat, which was, near as Cayden could guess, the primary reason for the Warden division. With three units directly in front of the tomb, it would be that much harder to dislodge them and gain access.

 

‹ Prev Next ›