Liar King (Tower of Babel Book 2)

by Adam Elliott

  "As you expected, Field Marshall, they did not," Valserys confirmed.

  "Well, I'll take small blessing where I can get one," Cayden said.

  They'd known with near certainty that the Wardens would launch an attack to retake the entrance to the tomb on their midday turn, but what they'd had to count on was that the damaged Warden units wouldn't launch a second attack in the evening if doing so would end up destroying their units. It was a gamble, but a fairly safe one.

  It had proven correct. Unable or unwilling to suicide to deal damage, but with nowhere else to retreat, the Warden units just stood there, which meant that Cayden could have his units spend the next two turns defensively beating on heavily damaged Warden units, simultaneously soaking up the XP and minimizing casualties.

  Valserys eyed him briefly, then turned his attention back to the displayed figures. “The first influx of civilians began to arrive while you were gone. I took the liberty of conducting a census upon entry, and we've more than enough military capable lads to replace the ones we've lost in the field once the units return.”

  As Cayden's expression darkened, Valserys softened. “Field Marshall... Cayden, if I may?”

  Whatever dim path Cayden's thoughts had begun to tread upon was lit bright as day by the mere sound of his name from the Elan's lips. It was easily enough to snap him back into focus. “By all means.”

  “I didn't think it was my place to interject when you and Lady Silver-” Cayden snorted at the word Lady, but Valserys continued unabated. “-were discussing this upon our arrival. But to some extent, she is correct.”

  “I need to accept losses.”

  “No. You need to be willing to expend lives.”

  Cayden blinked in surprise, but before he could speak, Valserys continued. “Let me be clear, I am not suggesting anything akin to the wanton disregard for Elan lives that she suggested.” That much was clear by the way his body language stiffened even discussing the idea. “But she was correct that you cannot fight the way you are now.”

  “We've won every battle thus far.” Cayden pointed out.

  “By fighting not to lose.” Valserys shot back. “You put yourself, Lady Silver, and by extension, all of us at risk to prevent a handful of casualties.”

  “You heard.” He winced.

  "I did." For the first time, it struck Cayden just how large the age gap between him and his advisor was. He'd been treating Valserys as a peer, despite the fact that the old soldier had at least a lifetime of experience on him. "And I understand why you did it. Just as you need to understand why you cannot continue this way."

  "Because I'm fighting not to lose," Cayden repeated.

  Valserys stepped away from the War Frame, pacing a short distance to look up at a nearby painting of the castle and its surrounding area. The elder man sighed briefly, one hand twirling the edge of his mustache as he searched for words.

  “When I was just a tad older than you, I was given my first command. A hundred men with a focus on hunting and killing a band of brigands who had been going up and down the Teri-Taneth valley demanding protection money. I had a force that was more than sufficient to put down my enemy, but I was young and ambitious. I didn't want to merely defeat my enemy; I wanted to crush him without losses."

  Valserys continued to study the image before him, as though it somehow bolstered his memory of the event. "It was a disaster, as you might be expecting. I didn't suffer a single casualty, but the villages I had been sent to protect suffered hundreds. I spent days manoeuvring my men to pin the thieves against a river so that not a single one would escape, days that they spent pillaging and killing everything they could get their hands on."

  “Perfect is the enemy of the good.”

  “Quite right Marshall. Quite right.” Valserys smiled. “What I'm saying is that I understand your reticence. I even appreciate it.” He gestured to the War Frame as he continued. “I'm sure the men do as well. But with everything that is at stake you cannot continue this way. Fighting not to lose means taking no risks, and making no sacrifices, even necessary ones.”

  “I understand what you're saying.” Cayden frowned. “I really do. It's just... that isn't me. I'm the guy who restarts a stage when I take replaceable losses, the one who keeps replaying over and over until I get a perfect result. I'm like that with little pixel men, and you're asking me to knowingly send living people to their deaths.”

  “To save others.” The older man conceded. “If you had these abilities, to try over and over again, my council would be different, I assure you. I am neither asking, nor suggesting that you throw away lives. Only that you measure them carefully against the lives of everyone, and everything else. And that as a result, assure that those that do fall, are doing so with purpose.”

  The young man considered his elder for a moment, before at last nodding. “I'll try.”

  “That is all I can ask of you, Field Marshall.”

  “Still not willing to stick with Cayden?”

  "No sir, no I am not," Valserys replied, that hint of a smile once again frustratingly close on an otherwise serious face.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Day Four – Morning

  Resources – Size 2, F – 320 +5, Z – 340 +15, M – 160 +5, I – 280 +20, P +25, R +10

  Completed – Lower Township Repair III, Upper Township Repair I

  "Gotta say, Roberta, this is one hell of an improvement."

  “Why thank you Cayden.” His elfin advisor replied absently. She was focused on the task at hand, though apart from that focus, the process looked positively effortless. A swoop of one hand caused the air to glow, particles of glowing energy coalescing into iron nails that hovered in the air. At a command, the nails struck home, the barrage creating a staccato noise like gunfire as they pierced the wooden frame that itself had been held in place only by the force of the Elan's will.

  He watched as the process repeated itself twice more, then as new joists levitated to the top of the now solid frame. Cayden had to admit; he was impressed. What might have taken a modern building crew hours to do properly, she was doing in seconds.

  Hundreds of similar buildings in various stages of completion lined the streets of what had been a ruined city only days before. Even more encouragingly, dozens of new citizens could be seen on their way up or down the common road, most moving with a decided purpose in their steps, busy on one task or another.

  Apparently satisfied, Roberta lowered her hand and at last opened her eyes, turning away from the half-finished building to grace Cayden with a smile. "Come to survey your kingdom, Field Marshall?"

  “I-” Cayden started, about to frown when the teasing dimples at Roberta's cheeks gave up her mischief. “No, I just wanted your advice and didn't want to drag you all the way back to the keep.” He admitted, before adding. “Though now that you mention it, it probably wouldn't hurt for the workers to see me once in a while. Perhaps I ought to put on a hard hat and kiss a few babies?”

  Roberta stared at him in bafflement.

  “It's a thing that human politicians... you know what, nevermind.”

  "I seldom do," Roberta replied. She took a brief aside to direct a few workers to attend to the work she'd started, discarded the heavy workman gloves that seemed entirely unnecessary for someone who was doing no real work with her hands, then turned her attention fully to Cayden. "How can I be of help."

  "Well, we've got some short-term planning to do and some long-term planning. Where do you think we should start?"

  “What was it that Shifty said the other night? Dealer's choice?” Roberta grinned.

  “It still amazes me that Elan never developed card games.” Cayden murmured. Of all the oddities he'd experienced inside the tower, walking in on Shifty and Silver attempting to teach Valserys and Roberta how to play poker the previous evening was still surprisingly high on the list.

  At least it hadn't been strip poker.

  "Let's start short and go long," Cayden announced, shaking his head vigo
rously to clear that particular mental image away. “The War Frame tells me the city grew overnight. We're now Size 2?”

  “I thought it might, with the new housing all complete.” She replied. “Did you bring it with you?”

  “It?” He asked with some confusion.

  “The War Frame.”

  Cayden's eyebrows raised. Her voice sounded serious, but the question was nonsense. “No Roberta. I did not carry the War Frame down to see you.”

  “What?” It was her turn for incredulity, followed swiftly by a roll of her eyes. “Cayden, you do realize that the War Frame is portable, yes?”

  “I... did not.” He admitted.

  "That explains why you left it behind with Valserys..." Roberta thought aloud, the pieces of what must have seemed like bizarre behavior from her perspective now falling into place. "I'll join you there this evening and show you how. It shrinks down to a miniature of itself on command."

  Cayden balked at the explanation. “Is there anything else about the Frame I don't know that I ought to?”

  “I had thought to ask you the same thing, Field Marshall.”

  “Tonight then.” Cayden frowned. “Back somewhat more on topic.”

  “You'd like suggestions on where to focus the new citizens.”

  He nodded “Hit it in one.”

  The growth in size had opened up a new set of options on the War Frame when he'd gone to check on it that morning. He'd found a banner in the miniature courtyard, a banner that represented the new citizens of Bastion. The moment he'd touched it, the Frame had drawn back, giving him an aerial view of the city and its surroundings, with each hex labeled with a small indicator to inform him what sort of resources it would produce.

  Setting his citizens to work on the plains outside the city would produce food while sending them to the nearby foothills or forests would increase production. He could also earn more Grand Zenni, albeit a relative pittance by setting them to work along the nearby river, but as of yet, he'd found no source for influence, magic or research.

  "If it were me, I'd recommend we start by working on food production," Roberta replied. She surveyed his expression for a moment, then shook her head. "Which is what you'd already decided."

  “I wouldn't go that far.”

  She scowled at him. “You wanted a sounding board.”

  "In a manner of speaking," Cayden replied. "Clearly, I don't know everything, so I thought a decision like this merited a second opinion."

  That seemed to mollify Roberta's growing ire. “It is not as if it is a permanent decision in any case.”

  “No. But it would take a full turn to re-assign them, which feels like a waste.”

  "Well, I think you've got it right." She admitted, somewhat grudgingly now. "The increased population has halved our food production. And even if it hadn't, we have to plan for the future. Our food comes from Islo for the time being, but that won't last if the city comes under siege."

  “Do you think we should look into building a farm directly? The option came available on the War Frame when the city grew.” He pressed.

  "Not yet," Roberta said. "Assuming you've decided in favor of our guests?"

  "I dispatched the Fifth this morning," Cayden replied. "The Third will be back to garrison before the end of the turn, and Valserys is right. It will help us to be seen in a positive light by the locals."

  “And we can devote men to work the farms, saving us from having to build them ourselves.” She added, finishing his unspoken thought.

  “That too.”

  “Sounds like you have your answer then.”

  “Fifteen Food from the citizens working the farm. That should fill our stockpile in the short-term, and give us enough food to feed our troops and a size three city in the medium.” He tapped his chin with a finger as he thought. “Which leaves us with the long term.”

  "You are still struggling to decide whether or not to continue on this course of action." It was phrased as a question, but Roberta made it a statement as she indicated the half-finished building with one hand.

  Cayden sighed. "Assuming everything keeps going linear regarding cost and bonuses, the Lower Township will be fully repaired by day six. But the bonus it gives to production will take nearly twenty days to pay for itself."

  “And the battle will be over in twenty-nine.”

  “Exactly.” Cayden began to pace slightly, only going a few feet in any direction before swinging around to go the other. “The housing bonus helps ameliorate things somewhat, but it could still be a lot of lost opportunity to focus elsewhere.”

  "It isn't like you to second guess yourself quite this much," Roberta observed.

  He winced. “That obvious?”

  “A little.” She leaned back on her heels to think. “Silver?”

  “Who else.”

  “She has a point.” Roberta talked over him as he began to complain. “But not an overwhelming one.”

  “You think we should focus on production first?”

  “Yes. But I also think you need to have more faith in your decisions.” Roberta scowled. “And I also think I had a similar conversation with her last night. Very persistent, that one.”

  "Yeah, tell me about i-" The sharp chime of his AR glasses cut Cayden short as a notification appeared on his display. "One second." He said to Roberta, before manipulating the air in front of him to connect the call. "Hey, Celia. Can I get back to you in-"

  “Cayden. It is starting.”

  ***

  Fifteen minutes later Cayden stood opposite Celia in the strategy room, her AR glasses recording him while a player on the other end was making a similar transmission. The conversation was far from private, with upwards of twenty players linked in on the call. Best put his strong foot forward.

  "Rat," Cayden said as a man came into view on the other end of the stream.

  “Cayden.” Came the man's reply, his expression grim. It was not a look that Cayden welcomed seeing.

  In the hours and days after the announcement at the Ducal Palace, Cayden had left the task of communicating with the other player guilds largely in Celia's hands. He'd thought that most players would be more amenable to a pretty face and an upbeat attitude than a sixteen-year-old try-hard gamer.

  And he'd been correct. Celia had shown a knack for diplomacy quite like her older sister, and within two days had gotten in touch with the leaders of five of the six active strongholds, including two others that had been commissioned in Sunè on the same evening. Only the Toy Soldiers had remained fully out of her reach, and even that resolve had weakened somewhat once Celia had begun contacting some of their rank and file players rather than their leader.

  Of the six guilds, the only one Cayden was in personal communication with on any regular basis was Goon Squad. Their holding, De'Arnise, was one of two that stood between the Tomb of the Liar King and Islo and was all but guaranteed to be the first to be attacked. That dubious honor had been enough to warrant Cayden's personal interest in the keep and its commander.

  Vilerat was a bald; goateed man in his thirties, a former software engineer that Cayden probably would have still picked out as a software engineer, even if he'd not been told as much. He was always smiling, the sort that always seemed to be in on the joke that Cayden wasn't. On a normal day, that smile irritated him, but he'd never suspected how concerned he'd be in its absence.

  "How bad is it," Cayden asked at last.

  “On a scale of one to-” The teenager's frown was enough to stop Vilerat from dancing around the subject any further. “High thousands.”

  Cayden felt as though he'd taken a body blow. “How high?”

  "Best guess from what we saw is eight or nine thousand." A soft rumble emanated from Celia's headset, as all of the participants that Cayden had muted cursed and gasped. "It is hard to get an accurate number right now because the column is moving through a wooded area. Once they are out, they'll be on plains, and we should have a much better count."

  “For a
ll the good that will do us.”

  “Chin up. At worst, the enemy outnumber us a paltry six to one; good odds for any player.” Vilerat laughed weakly.

  "If we had an army of players, I'd probably agree with you," Cayden replied. He drew a deep breath and reminded himself that Vilerat wasn't the only one watching before he continued. "So what are you planning in the immediate future."

  “Honestly? I'm planning on running.” The bald man chuckled again. “We're going to do as much scouting as we can to try and get a grip on what is coming, but the majority of my troops are mounted. Better to save them for where they can be useful than lose them fighting a hundred to one on the fort walls.”

  The camera shifted at a gesture from Vilerat, turning to display a wooden table similar, but not identical to Cayden's War Frame. “We're going to leave a small detachment behind, twenty men, to hold the keep in the hopes that they can act as a speedbump. Even slowing them down a turn is better than having them walk right past the keep.”

  Cayden bit his tongue. The idea of calling twenty sacrificed Elan a 'speedbump' sat poorly with him, but it was hardly the time or the place to argue semantics. “And then you'll retreat to Crossroads?”

  “That was the thought. Yeah.” Vilerat crossed his arms as the camera returned to him. “Feels a bit too much of a Three Little Pigs situation for my liking, but hopefully Islo turns out to be made of some solid brick."

  “Any chance you can harry them a little with that cavalry of yours?”

  Vilerat's grin returned, white teeth positively glowing in the video. "Way ahead of you. The whole reason we found them in the first place is that we spotted one of their scouting parties. Gave them a bloody nose and took out a hundred of their soldiers before their mounted units chased us off. I'm hoping to have my guild make hit and run attacks on the army itself as it passes during our turns so that we can dodge in and out of the hex where they can't follow us, but we'll have to see."

  That... was an excellent idea. How had he never even considered that?

  “I say something wrong?”

  “I- er... no. Just feeling a little dumb.” Cayden confessed. A slight blush rose to his cheeks as he heard another sound from Celia's headset, laughter, but he pressed on to distance himself from the embarrassment. “Any word on how fast they're moving?”