Long Live the Emperor: Chapter 12 (Patreon)

It didn’t take Alvin long to realize where he was being taken. There were only so many rooms in his manor, and he’d already explored most of them. Count Grandhill had set himself up in Aldrich’s study.

The guards standing before the door were clearly of a greater caliber than those who’d been watching Aldrich’s door. These were heavily armored, and they wore full plate armor instead of chainmail and brigandine. Six of them stood before the door, three on each side. Two peeled off and commanded Alvin to hold out his arms. They inspected him from head to toe for weapons, not satisfied even when he took off his shirt and shoes.

“If you have a lady knight or two, I’d also be willing to take off my trousers.” Alvin rolled his eyes at the overcautious guards.

At his comment, two of the armored knights took off their helmets to reveal two feminine faces with short-cropped hair and glares as fierce as their male counterparts.

Alvin sighed and took off his trousers.

Only then were the guards finally satisfied that he wasn’t sneaking a weapon into his meeting with the count.

“No swords in the room with him,” the female guard who’d just searched him a little too thoroughly said. “You all saw how dangerous he is with a blade.” She turned to Alvin. “If we have to subdue you, we’ll do it with our fists.

She slammed one gauntleted fist into a palm. From the look of those gauntlets, Alvin thought he’d prefer getting stabbed.

“I gave Lady Mabel my oath of parole. As long as you treat me fairly, I’ll make no trouble for you,” Alvin said.

The knights gave him hard, disbelieving looks. Their fingers itched for weapons that weren’t there. Just what had Aldrich done to these people to make them so wary?

After much posturing and glaring, they finally let Alvin into the room to see Count Grandhill.

Alvin expected a big, fearsome warrior of a man. Someone terrifying to stand before and even more terrifying to fight against. He might have scars lining his skin, all in the front, or maybe have an eyepatch from a brawl in his youth. Alvin expected a hard man who looked like he ate nails and tree bark for breakfast and drank the blood of those who had failed him in place of wine.

But instead, the man standing in Aldrich’s study was a small, portly man. He would have only stood shoulder height to Mabel and had a potbelly that his fingers drummed against while he waited. His heavy breastplate and the helmet on his head exaggerated his short, stocky figure. He wasn’t exactly armed for battle, but he looked like someone determined to survive an assassination attempt.

“Count Grandhill, I present former Baron Aldrich,” one knight said, bowing low.

“Ah, Baron Aldrich. I was wondering if you were still alive in there. I’ve heard curiously little from you over these last few days. Not even an escape attempt,” the court said. He sounded more like a mildly interested accountant than a feudal lord intent on conquering his neighbors.

Alvin gave him a thin-lipped smile in return. “I’m as well as can be expected if that is what you’re asking.” Alvin inclined his head in a slight bow. He didn’t bow particularly deeply, not nearly to the extent the knight from a moment ago had. But this was a bow from one lord to another, and Aldrich was supposed to be a proud man. Alvin hoped the little bow was sufficient.

Count Grandhill gave Alvin a strange look. There was a moment of tension as everyone in the room watched Alvin with eyes like hawks.

Alvin straightened and waited. The silence was usually a power play of some kind to force the other part to speak. Aldrich might have fallen for it, but Alvin was well-read enough to know the trick when he saw it. He stood in silence, waiting and watching for Count Grandhill to say something more.

Eventually, he clapped his hands together. “Well then, what do you say to a little game?”

Count Grandhill stepped around Aldrich’s desk without waiting for a reply and took a seat. The desk was too tall for him, but he’d made it work by placing a few books beneath the chair. Alvin winced when he realized that the books he was using were Aldrich’s precious books on dreamwalking, but he said nothing.

The game they were playing vaguely seemed halfway between chess and a tabletop wargame. A set of fine figurines stood at the top of a keep carved of wood but painted to look like stone. The ground before them was painted the color of grass, but crisscrossing lines covered it to create a grid.

“I thought we might revisit that battle we fought, this time on the tabletop instead of in the field,” Count Grandhill suggested.

“Not satisfied with your victory in the field?”

“There’s always room to improve. Besides, I find wargames more fun than an actual war. There was a lot more blood than I expected, even in victory. The current setup is exactly the battle as we fought it, but I’m willing to give you an extra company of archers, if you wish.”

“I’m afraid I’m not very well versed in this wargame,” Alvin said as he took a seat across from the count. “I’ll need as much help as I can get.”

Count Grandhill proved to be a rather capable teacher. Like in chess, each piece had a specific set of moves it could make. This wargame was a bit more complicated than chess, as it was meant to simulate a real battle as closely as reasonably possible.

Alvin lost, of course. Count Grandhill was clearly well-versed in the game, and Alvin was a complete amateur. Considering his forces were completely outmatched in both quality and number, it was the expected outcome. But on the whole, Alvin found the game fairly logical and similar to a few board and video games he’d played before. Though he hadn’t played this particular game before, he’d played enough similar to it to grasp the basics quickly enough to give the count a good challenge. It was clear the count had only ever faced casual players before and never the kind of serious strategists that lived in game lobbies and hobby shops.

Alvin soon found that his best strategy was to drag out Count Grandhill’s siege for as long as possible before forcing him into a fighting retreat. Since Alvin was the defender, the game’s rules gave him the advantage of shorter supply lines. The closest he came to victory was after forcing Count Grandhill to fight a long and bloody siege before feigning a retreat. After Count Grandhill claimed the keep, Alvin sent his forces around to cut off the Count’s supply lines and placed him under siege instead.

It was a rather dramatic change of fortune that had beads of sweat dripping down the side of the count’s temples before he realized he’d have to send his men into a headlong charge against a fortified position if he wanted to break the siege before his men ran out of food.

Count Grandhill won, of course. His men were of far greater quality and number than Alvin’s, but Count Grandhill shook his head at his heavy losses and had the look of a man who’d been handily defeated.

“I’ll say! I didn’t expect you to be any good at this game,” Count Grandhill said. “Truth be told, I thought you’d sweep your hand over the board and smash the pieces before we finished the first match! If I’d known we’d play a game this tough, I would have brought my good set of pieces.”

“It is a fun game. I take it some of those rules are your own?” Alvin asked.

“Indeed. And now that I’ve fought and won a real war, I can make the game even more accurate.” Count Grandhill rubbed his fingers together as though that were the greatest prize he’d claimed from Aldrich.

While they played, Alvin watched the guards out of the corners of his eyes. They’d been watching him just as carefully as promised. While Count Grandhill had let down his guard and tossed his sweat-soaked helmet aside once they got into the third match, his guards only grew even more vigilant as time went on.

Two hovered just behind Count Grandhill on either shoulder, ready to jump to his aid the moment a threat appeared. They stood close at first, but the count waved them off after the first match when he said he needed room to breathe. They took a step back to stand unobtrusively just out of arm’s reach. They weren’t unnoticeable, but they were no longer casting shadows over the gameboard.

The other four hovered over Alvin’s shoulders, and they were much less shy about making their presence known. He had two of them breathing down his neck at any given time, which added another layer of distraction to the game. But Alvin persevered, not that he had any other option.

They played again, and since Alvin knew the count was trying to figure out how to beat his last tactic with fewer losses, Alvin used the same strategy again. There was no point in trying to beat the count, and he’d probably be in a better mood after a few more victories. Alvin’s only challenge was making sure he worked hard enough for them to be satisfied when he won.

“You know, I always took you as more of the brawn over brains sort of lord,” Count Grandhill said. “The kind who would rather spar on the practice field than hunching over a map in a command tent.”

“There is a time for both, I suppose,” Alvin shrugged. He realized his behavior was probably inconsistent with what Aldrich would do, but Aldrich’s behavior was what got him into this mess. Alvin couldn’t act like Aldrich would have if he wanted to get out of it. “But now that we’re settled, I have to ask. You called me here for more than just a game or two, didn’t you?”

“Oh, yes! I hadn’t planned for us to play anywhere near so long. We were supposed to discuss what I’m going to do with you going forward.” Count Grandhill waved his hand as he concentrated on his pieces. His fingers swept the board before he eventually selected one and made his move. He’d sacrificed two turns to assemble a siege tower this time instead of making his men scale the keep with ladders.

That let Alvin train his peasant levies a bit more, which would keep them from breaking ranks and fleeing as fast as before. Fortunately, Count Grandhill had overestimated Aldrich’s gold reserves and assumed he’d have the coin to pay his men for that long.

“And?” Alvin moved his only company of real warriors to hold the wall against the siege tower. He’d need to make something happen with one of the militia groups. Otherwise, Count Grandhill could simply pour men up the tower until he won.

“Well, truth be told, we were waiting for you to murder me. Or at least try to,” Count Grandhill chuckled. “We thought the only reason you’d let yourself be captured alive was to throw your life away trying to kill me. My knights were certain the moment you got in a room alone with me, you’d lunge for the nearest blade and then for my throat.”

“I do notice they’re being exceptionally vigilant.” Alvin shifted as two of the knights pressed so tightly to either of his sides that he could barely move his arms.

“Yes, well, I think that danger has passed. No man could hide his hatred so well to play wargames all day and lose a dozen times.”

“You were surprised that we made it through the first one,” Alvin smiled.

“Yes. Yes, I was.” The game continued for a few more rapid-pace moves. They’d played through this scenario several times already, and Alvin had tried every variation possible on his end. The count knew how to take his defenses apart by now, and it wasn’t long before his men were storming the keep and Alvin’s people were fighting an organized retreat. “Anyway, since you are indeed the model prisoner you promised to be, we can negotiate just what the relationship between you and me is going to be moving forward.”

“I’m prepared to swear the vassalage oath if you help me rebuild my army,” Alvin suggested.

Count Grandhill drummed his fingers across the table. “Tempting, but I did tell you I’d extent that offers only once. Now that I’ve taken your fortresses and your lands, I won’t give them up just like that. Besides, you made some rather pointed public insults towards me and my house. If you don’t rescind those insults, I may still have to execute you anyway to avoid looking weak.”

“Consider the insults rescinded. I can write a few letters if you like. Or perhaps a party would be more appropriate?”

“You surprise me once again, Baron Aldrich. Are you sure you’re feeling well?” Count Grandhill frowned.

“Quite. In fact, I’ve never felt better. You can consider any foolishness you might have heard from my mouth to have come from the lips of a different man,” Alvin replied.

Count Grandhill nodded. “Very well. That is enough to alleviate any reason to kill you. So our only task will be to determine your level of privileges under my rule.”

“Lots, please. The more privilege, the better.”

Count Grandhill let out a hearty chuckle. “You can’t really think I’ll let you have the run of the place again?”

“No, but you can make it look like I still have the run of the place, can’t you?” Alvin suggested. “I might need a loan to recruit more guards, and I’ll fly your banner over my manor walls, but keeping me in charge will ease tensions in the town considerably.”

“I have noticed the townsfolk growing rather restless. I would hate to have to put down a peasant revolt.”

“I can prevent one from ever occurring.”

“And you’d do this just so you could look like you were still in charge? Be a figurehead?”

“For the time being. I hope that once I earn your trust again, I could graduate to becoming a vassal, but I’m content to wait years on that front.”

Count Grandhill shook his head. “It’s an interesting idea, but that isn’t going to work for me. Figurative power can too easily translate into real power, given time. If I let you keep acting like the lord of this place, you will be lord of this place. People listened to you once, and so they will do so again.”

There had been little chance that Count Grandhill would accept that offer, but since he’d given Alvin the opportunity, Alvin figured he’d ask anyway.

They moved more pieces, and Count Grandhill licked his lips, sensing victory close at hand. Alvin had a few tricks left to drag out his victory as long as possible. Alvin wanted the count’s focus on the game rather than the deal they were making.

“Then perhaps a compromise is in order.” Alvin sprung a group of archers in a surprise attack from the forest to weaken some of Count Grandhill’s forces before retreating again. This game would only last until Count Grandhill maneuvered his heavy cavalry into position to cut Alvin’s forces to pieces, but between then and now, Alvin could make them quite an annoyance.

“Out with it then.” Count Grandhill adjusted his pieces so that his heavy infantry stood between his more lightly armored forces and the archers. Alvin’s arrows would do very little against such sturdy shields.

“Place Lady Mabel in charge and let me guide and support her. She can take my family name, and we can rule together.”

“Mabel? Hmm... to be honest, she isn’t the most capable of my children. She’s decent with that sword of hers, though nothing compared to you. I think she’s always admired your skill with arms. But one man or woman with a sword is only worth so much, and she would have been better off spending her days studying logistics instead of swordplay. I worry she’ll have difficulty running a barony.”

“I’ll be there to help.”

Count Grandhill made a quiet harrumph, and Alvin wasn’t sure if it was from his suggestion or frustration as the pit traps Alvin’s forces had dug slowed his cavalry down yet again. The fight was dragging out, and his side took heavy losses despite their numerical advantage. “You aren’t exactly famous for your skills at management either.”

“But you are. Perhaps you could lend us both a hand by getting the barony situated. I will ensure the people support any decisions you make. You could even send us a few administrators from your county. I’m sure you have a few people in training who would like to run their own departments. This barony could use the help of those kinds of talented people.”

Count Grandhill finally started nodding. “Yes... with my daughter nominally in charge and a few of my people keeping things in order, I could see this working. Very well, from this moment on, you and Mabel are betrothed. I warn you though, I make no promise of marriage just yet. Mabel might not be the most capable of my daughters, but she is still my blood. I won’t lock her into an unhappy marriage. If you fail to please her, the marriage is off, as is the rest of this deal.”

The count’s eyes shone as his heavy cavalry finally cleared the last hurdle Alvin had placed for them. From there, they cleaned up the rest of the battlefield and cut through every force Alvin had left. Alvin’s peasant levies stood no chance against the heavily armored knights, and they cut the peasants to pieces in much the same way they probably had been when Aldrich had fought this battle for real.

“Well played, and a deal well struck. I will endeavor to impress your daughter.” Alvin stuck out his hand, and they shook.

Note:

This pretty much completes the intro to the story I had planned. We could do more if you guys are still feeling this book though. We're already a bit further than I took He Who Slays Demons (Eventually became the Paladin series) and Jabberwocky, which became that short story I submitted to the Dukes of Harem Anthology. I'm not hitting a wall yet though, so I could keep going. There is something a bit relaxing about writing without the pressure of having to make the story good enough to publish.

There was one particular scene I wanted to write that just didn't pan out, so I'm hoping to be able to guide the book in that direction so I can write that one scene I was looking forward to.

Long term, I will probably have to slow down on this simply because I just don't have the time to take on another series until either Paladin or Spellheart comes to a close, since I've already promised Amazon Apocalypse as the next series. So I wouldn't expect a novelization rewrite of this for a year or so, though once one of those ongoing series ends I'd like to have another series to slide right in. But for the rest of this month at least I still have the time to write a bit more of this story.

I may do either a bit of a timeskip next chapter or do a poll seeing what you guys would be interested in the most. I'm thinking I'll have you guys vote between a couple of potential paths to help decide what Alvin's focus should be. Like: should he build a merchant company and accumulate a vast fortune to pull East Water out of debt? Should he focus on visiting his neighboring barons (or higher) and go to noble parties to practice politics and intrigue? Build a mercenary company and hire himself out as a fighter? Practice Dreamwalking with Clover? Or focus on his relationship with Mabel? Those kinds of things. I'm still brainstorming a few more potential paths.

Don't answer quite yet, just think about it. I'll probably put up the poll either Thursday or Friday. It depends on whether I think it works better before or after the next chapter.