Kingdom Come (Price of Power Book 1)

by Blake Bisciotti

  Since the gate was destroyed by the army’s battering ram, there was a gaping hole in the city’s wall. Victus had thought of assembling another strong gate, but when he consulted men experienced in construction, they suggested otherwise. Instead, they would begin working on a massive web of obstructions that would both serve to prevent the enemy from entering and get them caught in the oil soaked grounds. The officers of the army knew the Faletonians would certainly concentrate their efforts on the sole entrance. There would be a large force of archers atop the wall. Behind the wall, on the ground, more archers would be shooting arrows over their comrades to rain down on the invaders. They had to hold the enemy at the gate as long as possible in order to stand a chance.

  Once again the human’s would have the divine powers of the gods on their side. Each priest would undoubtedly have to exhaust his or her spells for the humans to reach a victory. All could only hope that the gods were with their followers when the time for action came and the priests called for their help.

  There were, of course, the three wizards as well. Their archaic magic proved very powerful in the first battle. They would need to blast lightning bolts, fireballs, and any other offensive spells into the enemy’s ranks. The three mages were certainly an odd lot and were not looked upon admiringly by the other soldiers. Arcane magic was an ancient, wild and uncanny thing. To most people, it either belonged in captivating old stories or was an evil power wielded only by witches and warlocks. Centuries ago it was more common in life…and war. Men had always fought to control it and seldom succeeded; however more often it led to chaos. In the current times it was unofficially illegal to practice, and no one did or even had the means to. No one except the mages of the Crimson Fox. Nevertheless, it played an enormous role in the siege and would now be called upon to do so in defense, putting Captain Victus Antonel and the cities of Rogsnelk and Abellard in debt the guild that controlled it.

  Victus thought to dig trenches outside of the gate, but ultimately decided it would take too much time and too many men. He instructed dummies to be set up outside the walls so that his archers could practice shooting at a target below. The aim of his men wasn’t encouraging, but with enemies pushing forward in a swarm, even an errant shot would strike another attacker. The Captain knew preparation and fortified defense was their only advantage.

  The riders had returned from the three cities and all had bad news. Not one city would send more men. Victus grew furious and frustrated at the reports. He cursed Lunemire for not sending help, although he had anticipated such a move. Thoughts of the councils of the cities, sitting in their chambers scheming to deny him more men, angered him more. Long had he thought they dragged down the people with their dirty politics and egotistical self-interests. He vowed to make an impact when he joined the council of Rogsnelk and he decided the endeavor would begin in earnest as soon as he returned from the war. It was clear to him that none of the men respected the councils and no one trusted their leadership.

  What do the members of the councils not understand? Victus thought desperately to himself. His army symbolized hope for the goodly races south of the plains. They went forth to scatter the evil that amassed, to prevent situations like the one the unfortunate dwarves had already faced in the depths of their mines. Now the army might symbolize the last waning chance of freedom and life for his people, and yet no one cared to offer support.

  There had been no word yet from the dwarves. The dispatched rider to the Singrin Peaks had not yet returned. Had he been captured by Faletonians? Was he still pleading for help? The dwarves almost certainly would not leave their mountain to support humans. After all, the humans sent no aid to Orzalar to aid the dwarves verse the Faletonians. The mountain was the home and strength. Similar to the stories of how Lirrowick Forest was for the elves. Although Victus did not know much about the short bearded folk, he knew dwarves weren’t keen on being away from the protection of their mountain and didn’t necessarily like humans.

  The Captain sat alone in the command tent waiting for his commanders. He reflected on the last few days and contemplated if he had failed in his efforts. The bold captain tasted the bitterness of fear. He faced doubts in his own mind. Had he led thousands to their demise while at the same time weakening the very cities that he sought to defend? Would the defeat of the army he led be the first step in the downfall of the three cities of the South Sea? Could savage brutes rule the lands south of the plains for many years to come because humans themselves could not unite to defeat the challenging forces?

  Negativity and lack of confidence were not the sort of traits defined the man Victus Antonel. He briefly had these thoughts because he was human, but his heart burned with passion for a victory, his gut told him there would be no loss. He pictured his son’s face and envisioned the boy smiling and holding his finger within his little hand. Then an image of the infant being held by his wife lingered in his mind. The Captain was interrupted by the sound of men outside of his tent and he beckoned them to enter. Victus stood straight and proud, his long brown hair hung loosely to the top of his shoulders. He had the look of a man eager for information.

  Ryon Ludlow and Bayloff walked different ways around the map in the center of the room. They arrived at the sides of Victus and greeted him with the saying that had become so popular throughout the camp. “Unto our honor.” The Captain said it back.

  “Did you find out what I asked of you?” Asked Victus.

  “Yes sir,” Ryon replied. “We have two hundred and six horses, including the ones we found already in the city that were trained enough to ride.

  “And enough riders? Skilled riders?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  The Captain’s gaze returned to the map spread out before them. The other two men quickly followed his eyes.

  “What are you considering?”

  Victus took a few slow steps with his hands on his hips. His lips were pursed and then he said, “Our scouts have consistently reported that the Faletonians do not have many mounted warriors. Thirty seems to be the estimate. They will invade all on foot. I’ve thought about what Dougard had proposed and perhaps his suggestion wasn’t wrong.” He put his fist to his mouth and looked towards the map in thought. “We may be able to ride out, surprise their army and cut through their ranks with our cavalry. If they are not prepared for a charge the damage could be demoralizing.” His eyes didn’t move from the map. He himself didn’t know if it was a good idea, but they needed an advantage.

  After a short moment of silence Bayloff spoke up, “It’s too risky,” he said, stroking his salt and pepper beard while eying his commander and friend. “There are supposedly ten giants. That is a force none of us can properly understand. We have already discussed this and you yourself dismissed it. The attack could start well and end horribly for us. Even in a fast hit and run, giants could decimate our riders, or even catch them from behind with their long strides as our men attempt to return.”

  “Or several of the giants can be slaughtered in our raid, or their losses could be so great that the imbalance of numbers is less.” Victus said raising his voice out of frustration. “We must gain an advantage. Between their numbers and these damned giants, we face a dangerous and troublesome outcome. The advantage is theirs. We must gain an advantage of our own if there will be a victory.” The Captain scanned the map aggressively as if the answer to the dilemma was hidden somewhere.

  Bayloff put a hand on his leader’s shoulder. Victus turned to him; his expression showed his mind was racing in all different directions. “Ryon, allow me to speak to our commander alone for a brief moment, please.”

  Ryon Ludlow looked as if he was offended. He put his hands on his hips and stood where he was, thinking that he was as much a part of this conversation as either of them. His eyes went to Victus.

  “Leave us,” Victus said in a calm voice. He did not look to Ryon as he spoke.

  “But sir we must discuss…”

  “Leave us!” The Captain raised his v
oice and glanced to Ryon from the corner of his eye.

  With that the young officer turned and departed the tent. Victus watched him leave and immediately felt guilt for raising his voice. He had grown to greatly like Ryon Ludlow. He was a loyal commander. Bayloff gently put his hand on Victus’s shoulder again. The two men had known each other for many years and were close friends. Victus’s father once held high rank in the city guard of Rogsnelk and knew Bayloff from their time serving together. Hartin Antonel, Victus’s father, eventually retired. Shortly after, Victus joined the guard. Hartin had asked Bayloff to look after his son so he took Victus under his wing. Bayloff knew there was something special about the young man, but he could never had predicted that Victus’s charisma and skill with a weapon would advance him into a leadership position so quickly. He served Victus loyally during his rapid ascent to power in the army and would continue to do so as long as his friend was his commander. No one knew The Captain better than Bayloff; however Bayloff had never seen Victus show such frustration, such doubt, and such fear as he was now.

  “Victus, you must calm yourself,” Bayloff started in a calm voice, “I need...this army needs the Victus Antonel that is fresh of mind and keenly decisive. I see in your face that you have grown anxious and frustrated. Trust in this army that you lead. Trust in your leadership... your men do.” He stared deep into Victus’s blue eyes and spoke vehemently. “You inspire them. They would gladly fight an army of darkness from the furthest depths of the abyss if you would boldly lead them into the battle. There can be no cracks in their foundation of morale…and you are that foundation.”

  A moment of silence went by. Victus was upset with himself for allowing his emotions to be detected by his men. Then again, Bayloff knew him better than anyone; perhaps it had gone unnoticed to Ryon Ludlow and others. He could only hope. The Captain then let out a big sigh and replied, “Yes…you are right old friend, but it is hard to not think that we may face a battle that cannot end in victory. We are outnumbered, and over power-”

  Bayloff cut him off loudly. “Are you afraid? Is this fear I hear from the mighty Victus Antonel? Victus the Giant Slayer now sits in his tent trembling in fear?” He spoke mockingly and gave his friend a playful shove with one hand. “Come on. Tell me how the enemy will wish they never advanced on our defenses. How they will burn in fire and oil as they try to enter the city. Let me hear how our arrows will rain on them as if the heavens themselves pissed down holy fury.” He put his hands by his privates and pretended he was pissing everywhere. “Tell me that our blades will chop down giant and orcs. Where is the commander that boldly took this city? That slayed a horrific giant from lands far away.” The older commander spoke loudly and intensely. “Rid this tent and this army of this frightful man who stands here before me…trembling like a little bitch. Bring back our Captain”. His expression remained stern. These were bold words to speak to an army’s commander, but Bayloff was comfortable taking the chance.

  “We have built our defenses with this,” Victus put two fingers to his head and tapped, “but it is with this that we will win this battle,” his fingers moved down to his chest and patted over his heart three times. “Our men will kill many orcs…but none more than me. The gods will smile on us with divine spells…and mysterious arcane magic will blow holes through the enemy’s ranks,” as Victus said this his voice raised and he put his hands together and smashed them into his comrade’s chest making the sound of an explosion with his mouth. The force collapsed Bayloff onto the map table, knocking over some pieces that were positioned there. He got back to his feet and both men smiled and laughed. “Thank you, you are a good commander and an even better friend.” The Captain felt refreshed and cracked his knuckles. “Now go on and get young Ludlow back in here, there’s much to be done”.

  Chapter 19

  “You see…I have no more men to tend the land. My workers have gone to fight with Victus Antonel. I had thirteen men, and now I have three. The rest are gone. The demand for cabbage is still high though. The men at war need rations, which we hope to continue to send. I cannot raise the price of the little I produce because that would be an injustice to our soldiers and our city.” The farmer was nervous as he spoke but the desperation was clear in his voice. It would have been wisest to hide all desperation, for he was now like a wounded dear among wolves.

  “And why do you need me, what has the city offered you?”

  “They offer nothing. The council simply says to produce as much as possible with what resources I have. I can barely work with three men. Even my son, at seventeen years of age, has gone to fight. I can barely make ends meet with the amount of work that is happening. It has been almost a week since they left, and I’ve been able to accomplish very little. If the men are gone for a while, which they very well may be, I will still have to pay the loans for my property as well as pay certain suppliers as well.”

  Ardius sat with his legs crossed and listened. This was the third man he had met with today. The first asked to have his shop protected since the poor were becoming aggressive with the city guard operating on a skeleton crew. The Crimson Fox ensured he would not be bothered, for a sizeable fee. The second man simply requested that a couple of attractive prostitutes worked at his inn for a couple of nights, to satisfy his few patrons and have them pay for rooms. Ardius granted his wish for a fee and, of course, a fraction of the proceeds from the whores. Now this farmer whined about his lack of production amidst reasonable demand for his goods: cabbage.

  “So a loan is what you ask for? A loan to make payment on another loan for your land? Do you think it is wise to borrow to pay back other money you’ve borrowed?” Ardius asked in a denigrating voice.

  “I do not know what else to do, the payment date is approaching and I’m trying to prepare.”

  “Do you not have money put away, say for a bad crop season?”

  “Yes sir, but very little…if I part with it now, I am down to nothing. I am humble a man who makes barely a living off the land. It pains me to even be here to ask for help from…from…”

  Ardius leaned forward and looked the man in the eyes, knowing the farmer had silenced himself before he said anything he would regret. He seemed an honest enough man though. From all Ardius had heard about him, he was a good modest man. While the goal of the Crimson Fox was to make the most money with the least risk, Ardius also tried to make doing the right thing a focus of his. There was a place for such a thing in his line of work, or so he tried to convince himself. He looked to his two men who were in the small room with him and the farmer. They were listening intently. They enjoyed hearing him carry out his business. He was good at what he did, and it was becoming well known and appreciated by his superiors.

  “I will not give you a loan.” Ardius said firmly and the farmer hung his head in disappointment. “Instead I will have six men ready to work for you tomorrow at dawn. They will not be the most skilled men, but they will increase your production once they are told what to do. You may pay these men fifty percent of what you pay your men.” Uncrossing his legs, Ardius leaned forward. “In return, I want ten percent of all that is sold.”

  “But there are no workers, I have searched-”

  “You do not have the resources that the Crimson Fox has.”

  The farmer rose to his feet. He would pay workers their full wages if he had to, but to pay half was a massive help, even if they were not skilled. “Well, thank you. Thank you, Ardius. I will look for the men at dawn. I am grateful to you. My family and I are grateful…for the Crimson Fox.” He reached for Ardius’s hand and shook it with both of his own. Then the farmer left. One of Ardius’s men closed the door behind him. Both of Ardius’s men then turned to their boss.

  He rubbed his bald head as he thought to himself. Then he said, “Get six decent men from the poor sector…men you know. They shall not be too competent, but no thieves or invalids. These men should need the money and the work…and be grateful to receive both. You handle this,” he pointed to o
ne of his men who then immediately left the room.

  Ten percent of all the farmer’s profits, and all he did was give him unskilled workers. A man like the famer would only search in a finite pool of workers to replace his own men. This pool of skilled men was currently dried up because of the war. The Crimson Fox, however, had solid connections with the poor in all of the cities. The less fortunate were often sources of business somehow. Many had gone to war, but they were so populous that many still remained. The cities had insisted that at least some able-bodied men stay behind in case the cities needed to be defended.

  Now Ardius had a chance to help put honest money in the pockets of the poor while making a profit and finding favor with his boss, a shrewd man known as The Grand. He would have his men choose six workers with families to feed who would be willing to work hard for minimal but at least existent pay. The farmer would not complain about the unskilled men and the men would not dare give the farmer a hard time because neither wanted to face the consequences from the Crimson Fox. Plus, they both needed each other anyway. All while producing more cabbage to eventually send to the soldiers at war.

  Ardius had been doing particularly well since the soldiers embarked on their siege. Six days in and people were already panicking, or was it struggling, either way he was profiting from it. A smile widened on his face. Ten percent of all sales for doing practically nothing but getting some unemployed ruffians some work…yes…yes…he sure did enjoy helping society.

  ***

  Jared Brooking whipped his horse and sped on down the road. He could only hope that he would be back to the newly occupied city of Southland in order to bring Victus the response of the dwarves. Several men were sent on missions to petition for aide from the three cities but Jared was to request support from the dwarves. His trip was not the furthest and but the dwarves deliberated a great while before giving their response. He was likely late returning but, by his last knowledge of the Faletonian army’s whereabouts, he would make it back just before they attacked. But so much could have changed. He wondered what the army was doing now.