Chapter 16 - Lesser Evils (Patreon)

The edge of the enemy encampment was deathly silent. There were a pair of guards keeping watch, but both of them had fallen swiftly to the sleeping spell — one was slumped against the makeshift fence that circled the camp, while the other had fallen face first into the mud. With a sigh, I instructed a wight to lift the man into a sitting position — my hands may have been bloody, but I wasn’t going to let a poor levy die choking on mud of all things.

We entered the camp unimpeded, and not a sound could be heard despite the ten thousand strong army living within. Every so often I spotted sentries, all sleeping fast. A slight smile tugged at my lips. The spell held strong.

As we progressed through the camp, I had the wights spread out, tasking them with searching each tent and looking for anyone who looked important — that is, rich. I had little doubt the nobles among them would not have separated themselves from their fancy trinkets, even on a campaign. The wights weren’t quiet, and the sound of moving tarps and fabric swooshing engulfed the camp as the undead shuffled about. Even so, the people living in this camp wouldn’t be able to wake even if a volcano erupted on top of them.

It was quite ironic, thinking about it. The dead walked through the night while the living slept like the dead. I couldn’t help but chuckle at the thought.

“Something funny happen?” Sarah asked as she looked around, scanning for threats.

“Nothing. I was just contemplating the irony of the dead moving about while everyone else is sleeping,” I waved away her concern.

Shiro snorted. “That’s some gallows humor right there,” he said, waiting for a reaction. When he got none, he continued, “Get it? Cause undead?”

Neither I nor Sarah deigned to grace him with a reply, though the withering look she gave him could have melted a stone.

“In any case,” I said, putting the awkward moment behind us, “it seems like one of the wights has found something.” I had received a mental ping from somewhere near the center of the camp.

“Multiple somethings,” I amended, as another smattering of pings followed from the same direction.

In hindsight, I probably should have headed straight for the center. Of course they’d stay in the best defended area.

“Okey-doke,” Sarah acknowledged in a sing-song voice, as she began to follow.

Shiro only grunted, chagrin still evident on his face.

We made our way to the center of the camp, where the canvas tents gave way to veritable pavilions.

“Nobles, am I right?” Shiro scoffed from behind.

“Five bucks says they have servants with them,” Sarah agreed.

“They don’t have dollars here, though.”

“Figure of speech!”

I couldn’t help but smile at their banter. They’d been dealt a bad hand, but it was good they managed to bond over it.

“Right, let’s gather everyone important-looking in one place so we can get this started.”

***

It didn’t take long to round up the nobles. My minions had dumped them on an open patch of dirt near the center of their operation, and I was now looking at a dozen-odd men and women strewed on the ground in their fancy clothing, and a score of wights standing in a circle around them with weapons drawn.

I switched my focus to the sleeping spell I was holding, poking a hole in the complex web of mana threads. It wasn’t physical, per se — I wasn’t creating a space where the spell wasn’t active. Instead, what I did was create an exclusion parameter, winch would let me selectively exclude people from the spell’s effect.

With the modification in place, I willed the motley lot before me immune to the sleeping spell. Nothing happened immediately — obviously, they wouldn’t simply wake without an outside stimulus.

Straightening my back, I adopted one of those haughty, confident postures the peerage seemed to love so much, and clapped my hands loudly.

All but a few started to stir from their slumber, with a handful almost instantly alert. Before they could get their bearings, I clapped again and coughed to get their attention.

“I am here to accept your unconditional surrender.”

I really wasn’t, given how precarious my position was in reality, but they didn’t know that, and the effect was immediate. The least groggy among them swiftly rose to their feet, confused at the change of scenery, while the slowest of them were being shaken awake by their neighbors.

It didn’t take long for one of their number to gather his bearings and address the situation.

“What is the meaning of this?” he thundered, outrage fully on display. A young man, full of youthful exuberance and lack of common sense. “Do you know who my father is? He’ll have you killed for this!”

He must not have noticed where he was, or else he wouldn’t have been making demands like that. Before I could point out the misunderstanding, another voice from the group told him off.

“Down, boy,” said an older voice, softly, yet it carried well. It was a middle-aged gentleman, and surprisingly, he wasn’t wearing finery — he was covered in a well-worn, heavy gambeson, even in the middle of the night. A man familiar with war, I believed.

“But father—” the young man tried again, then withered under the older man’s glare.

The old man turned to address me. “You must be the so-called Dark Lord, am I correct?”

I nodded. “And you must be what passes for a leader of this… merry band?”

He snorted, crossing his arms. “No need to be disingenuous. If you could have, you’d have killed us all already.”

He wasn’t entirely wrong, but he wasn’t right either. I could have killed them all. I wasn’t even entirely sure it wasn’t the better option. But my gut had told me the last thing I wanted was to be seen as a threat to the world at large, and killing off an army while they slept would have done just that.

“Not entirely untrue, I suppose,” I acknowledged hesitantly. “You are still, however, surrounded.”

“Yes, that’s kind of hard to miss,” the man replied wryly. At this point, most of the group was alert and murmuring quietly to each other, but none of them seemed to want to join the conversation. “You are right. I am, nominally, in command of this army. I am Count Charles Malloc of Avonstream. I believe it’s time we negotiate.”

There was something familiar about his name, but my memory was failing me.

“That’s quite funny, I think. It didn’t seem like you were interested in talking a few hours ago.”

He pressed his lips into a thin line. “There were… circumstances. And now these circumstances have changed.”

“Circumstances like thinking your win was guaranteed?” I asked unkindly.

“I am not at liberty to discuss,” he stated plainly, face unreadable. “Now, if you agree, let us retire to somewhere more private so we can negotiate away from prying ears,” he tried, again. Did his cohort have a spy, then? Interesting.

“Very well. Do you have a suitable location?”

“I do. Please follow me,” he said, turning towards the direction of a smaller pavilion. I followed, the small crowd parting to let us pass. Shiro and Sarah were hot on my heels.

Count Malloc made to enter the pavilion, but stopped at the last second, hesitating. “Those two…?”

“Are trustworthy,” I said, then followed him inside the tent.

***

“You need to understand that this rebellion has been months in the works.”

We were seated inside what I believed was his own tent — it was not as lavishly decorated as others I had seen. Indeed, it seemed that the man valued function over form, but it did sport a mahogany desk in the middle.

“I figured as much. You don’t gather this many people — and equipment! — on a three day notice.”

“Indeed. Duke Illvere had made living in Canneria burdensome for peasants and the peerage alike, so it was necessary to oust him from his position.”

“I get that, but he’s already been ousted. Tyrant gone, people freed, yada yada yada. Why continue with the siege?”

“It’s not that simple,” he defended.

“Then explain.”

The older man sighed, then reached inside a desk drawer, removing a pipe made of dark wood. Lighting it with a match, he began his story. “The peerage wasn’t originally interested in fighting this war.” He took a puff of smoke, savoring it before blowing it to a side. It smelled sweet. “Life was mostly tough for the peasants who had to suffer tax hike after tax hike, but it didn’t affect the nobles all that much.”

“They had to put down a handful of small insurrections every once in a while, but overall, the status quo was maintained.”

“Ah, yes, killing starving peasants. What a noble thing to do,” Sarah interjected in a deadpan tone from where she sat in a corner. She and Shiro were… playing cards again.

“I tried a couple of times to convince my peers to gather arms and rise in rebellion, but they didn’t see the point, from the cost to benefit analysis. Having a more lenient duke would not help their bottom line all that much.”

“So you sweetened the deal?” I asked, putting together what he was hinting at.

“So I sweetened the deal. We came to an agreement to divide the Duchy between us upon successfully conquering the seat.”

“And you couldn’t back off from the attack, because the other nobles wanted the land they’d been promised.”

“Precisely.”

“You know, that’s kind of a cheap thing to get actual human beings killed over,” Shiro added, scathingly.

“Hey, Mister Count Guy, did the nobles bring servants with them on campaign?”

Charles blinked at the non sequitur. “Well, naturally.”

“Hah! I knew it,” Sarah cheered with a small fist pump.

I stood silent for a while, taking in the implications of what the count had revealed. There was still a thing that bothered me, though.

“How did you manage to get so many troops, though? I had thought most of them are conscripts, but you’ve clearly got numerous adventurers among them. Yesterday’s breaches wouldn’t have been so deadly otherwise, and getting adventurers to bend the knee is sketchy at best.”

“We used the Temples for that. They had as little love for the duke as everyone else, so they were easily persuaded to help spread the rumors that he was consorting with dark forces.”

“And since the target changed from a tyrant duke to an actual Villain, they probably saw no reason to back off.”

“Actually, they weren’t told. Information about the change in leadership was restricted to the peerage.”

Huh. At least that worked in my favor. With the target of their ire dead, I might not have an angry mob on my hands at the end of the day.

“I assume the others of the peerage would not accept a cessation of hostilities if we agreed on it here, yes?”

“They would probably have my head on a pike for it.”

“This is troublesome.” I thought about it for a moment, then added, “Would you be able to manage the domains of those who dissent, if they were to be… removed?”

I saw a shiver go through the old man as he realized what I was asking, and he took another puff from his pipe to avoid answering.

“It would… not be easy, but not impossible either. Also, even among the dissenters, they may have relatives at home who might be more amenable to reason, too,” he added hastily.

I motioned for him to elaborate.

“Aside from my own Avonstream, the nobles here represent Windfire, Redriver, Brightharbor, Selwyn, and Hilloiry. The Viscount of Windfire was with me from the start on the need to mobilize against the duke, so he shouldn’t mind backing off all too much. The Redriver Count has a wife back at home who would succeed him, and she hates the man,” Charles spoke with a grimace. “She’d likely send you a reward for his death.”

“The Lady representing Selwyn — well, Viscountess now, I suppose — was Viscountess Leonine’s younger sister, and she is definitely out for revenge,” he glanced hesitantly at me, but I just waited for him to continue. “Brightharbor and Hilloiry are here in force, though, and will not accept any kind of loss.”

“So, the cleanest solution right now seems to be to kill the representatives of those last four, grant you dominion over their holdings except for Redriver, and then hopefully have the masses go back to their homes,” I mused out loud.

The count blanched at the sudden talk of murder.

“Hey, you were gonna get people killed anyway — might as well be a handful of pompous pricks instead of hundreds of normal people, right?” Sarah asked from her corner.

“I suppose,” Charles accepted with some hesitation.

“Does anyone else have a better plan?” I asked, receiving no response after a few seconds. “Very well, then. We’ll do as I said earlier.”

I made to leave the tent, Shiro following as Sarah was putting her deck back together, but stopped when I realized the count did not move from his desk.

“Are you not coming?”

“Do you need me for this… execution?” he asked bitingly.

“I don’t know who is who,” I shrugged. “Unless you think killing all of them is the better solution…”

He rose swiftly after that, but his face was bitter. I had made no ally here, which was a bit unfortunate, but I couldn’t blame the man. Despite not agreeing with their methods, he still probably saw the other nobles as friends, or at least amicable acquaintances.

He did seem like a decent sort, as far as nobles went, and I hoped I wouldn’t end up having to kill him as well.

We left the pavilion and headed towards the place where the nobles were being held hostage.

Six heads rolled that night, but by noon, there was no more army surrounding Ardenburg.