Chapter 28: On Deaf Ears

And though that fury, oh that resentful spite, I still want to try and bring the light back to the night that has set. If this is all my spirit is willing to love, then let it fade away. Fill my eyes with fire, drift toward the inevitable clash of souls.  

Oh Great Father, Grant me yet another day.

Year of Wrath 1231, Season of Waiting D.41

     Halgier let his pipe smoke fill the small study, rereading the contract set before him. To most this would have been obnoxious, though Lucas endured the spicy pungent haze without even blinking an eye. Waiting, as the Dwarven king took his time parsing through the document. The light from the stained glass window, filtering through flitting softly like clouds in the skies. 

     The Dwarf had tapped out the ash from the pipe, though it was already being repacked by Blaise. “Quick, isn’t he?” Halgier responded, as the butler lit his tobacco for him. The heady rich scent of Corojo and Legero doused in cloves and cinnamon quickly filled the room. 

     The two kings not even acknowledging the comment beyond the flat statement, as Lucas poured himself a glass of stiff Huronian Whiskey. A break from his usual wine, offering Halgier a glass of his own. Bringing it to his nose, stinging even his well practiced palette. Though he smiled brightly at the subtle oakiness and caramel notes. 

     Steepling his fingers together, Lucas spoke, eyes on another document. “What are your initial thoughts?”

     “Much of what you have laid out here is acceptable, well versed we are in mixed military tactics. You are well advised to reach out to us for further training of your troops.” Halgier said, setting the icy glass down. “Ah that reminds me of when that Rouge Huronian Garrison tried to march on Mhzechet.” He added as he laid back in the comfortable chair, creaking under his weight as he took another puff from his pipe. 

     “We never heard much back on that, about a decade back at this point, no? The King of Huron refused to speak of the ‘incident’. You didn’t suffer heavy losses did you?” Lucas probed. 

     “Not wanting to be subtle? Who are you, what have you done with the real King of Galus?” Halgier laughed. “I suppose this is a moment for me to flaunt the Dwarven State’s capability. No, my vanguard ambushed them with a flanking maneuver as they were trying to lay siege to the city. Mhzechet had been bombarding them with artillery shells for days, though whatever warding beacon they stole was doing its job well.” 

     “Let me guess, about large enough to cover the Garrison but not enough for any larger force if they wanted to. Enough to cover a single camp?” Lucas asked, keeping his face blank as he listened. 

     “Exactly so, the shells detonated on top of the ward, deflecting the shockwaves into the ground. They weren’t so prepared when the War Boars tusks ripped apart their barricades. We were able to gun down their front without much effort. That Colonel was executed by yours truly.” Halgier said with mock gravitas, his face a grimace from the memory. 

     “So a quick ambush was enough to rout their entire force?” Lucas pondered for a moment, then continued rubbing the stubble on his face. “I thought they were well armed with half a Legions worth of supplies. How did they fall so quickly, especially with the ward?” He asked with a raised palm. 

     “Nasty business. We timed the attack, Gerdhal and Gjorn were in Mhzechet calling a halt to the bombardment while we broke their front. Quite a bit of planning. Either way our force was meant to be a Blitzkrieg and pass quickly through their ranks after destroying the ward. We only had around ten minutes.” Halgier stared off into the distance, the look of a difficult memory, eyes glazing over a moment.

     “After my men left the line of fire, the Wrath of Mhzechet fell on them as if it were Kin’s own hammer. Snipers set up in foxholes around the forest picked off those who ran.” Halgier finished as he drained the rest of the glass on the desk. 

     “Why obliterate their force?” Lucas asked. Setting his elbows on the hardwood. 

     “To send a message to Mhuzelt. We were more than capable of handling a fully armed Garrison of a thousand troops in a matter of moments. We will not be denied our homeland, Berthelot.” Halgier growled out, shattering the glass still in his grip.

     “I see, tell me Warlord. What have the Dwarves done in their time with firearms and heavy artillery?” Lucas said, handing him a handkerchief to soak his bleeding hand. Blaise bandaging it for him. 

     “Without putting my Nation's defense strategies out there to abuse, We have innovated on the concept of artillery to have more heft. Large fuses to detonate at a further distance. More angled toward shredding armor than anything else to allow infantry entry to overtake fallen targets. Our infantry no longer carry rifles to a large extent.” He began, flexing his hand to test the wrappings. 

     “Explain” Lucas waved a hand for him to continue, Halgier flicked his eyes up to the silhouetted man. 

     “The War Boars are our mobility, where you humans depend on your steam engines and armor. Our Boars are immune to pain, and more than armored enough to take a direct hit from a large cannon shell, we mounted mechanical guns to them. A proverbial wall of lead and arcane fire to suppress enemy positions.” Looking up at Lucas, he could see the cool calculation behind his eyes. “That’s all you are getting, Berthelot.”

     “Oh! I didn’t mean to try and pry national secrets from you Majestet Avarson. That wasn’t my intent, only that I’m surprised that your nomadic kingdom had been able to fortify a stopping off point so well.” Swirling the drink in his own glass, “How do you keep your soldiers so motivated during an impromptu and sudden assault on that rogue Garrison?” 

“I struggle to keep my men motivated if they do not know about the battle plan in advance. Albeit my men are loyal and solid veteran fighters, they are not as well versed in sudden action, whereas my officers have no issue with such tactics and orders.” He finished by downing the spirit. 

     “Ah, I see the games you play, Lucas. My men being on the road for years at a time are accustomed to such things. Bandits on your roads, monsters where the light has not known, to various conditions one wouldn't expect. Versatility is necessary, my officers wear many hats as well as my infantry. Not a single one of them is trained in a single skill, they are familiar with all. Should their officers fall, should one of their kings fall, they still operate.” Halgier responded haughty. The smell of smoke increased as he let loose another puff from his pipe. 

     “Then might I add another request to our contract?” Lucas asked. 

     “Depends, what is it?” Another puff of smoke.

     “I would request that you teach my officers your style of command. Lead by example, what was it you said before? You cannot lead from a pinnacle?” Taking a deep breath, Lucas continued. “I fear war is upon us Majestet. Huron and Mhuzelt are on the edge of joining in this conflict, I fear that the Wandering States will be pulled in again. I see you work with your soldiers as a normal person, everything from a farrier to armorer to supplies. Yet, you have never wavered in your tactical ability to lead.”

     “Are you telling me that your officers don’t ‘lower’ themselves so that the common man can relate and see that they are capable?” The Dwarven king answered in an annoyed and irritated way. 

     “My officers are phenomenal, world class leaders capable of getting the legions to respond accordingly. However, to your point, yes. They do have a difficult time getting the soldiers to respond as well if morale is low, to keep the rumor mills to a minimum. Your men never seem to have that issue, while my men are patriotic and steadfast in their protection of the kingdom, it does become an issue as wars become embroiled in long drawn out conflicts.” Lucas leaned back, holding a hand over his face. “I don’t want to admit to any weakness in my military, I just see your forces not having this issue.” 

     “Awfully open to admit that desertion is an issue over time.” Halgier said flatly, “I suppose having your country with stronger defenses and borders is nothing but a benefit to me though. Fine, I will explain my style of command to your officers. Just be aware that you are late to the party on that front then.” 

     Sitting back up, with a sternness that wasn’t present before. “And what exactly do you mean by that?”

     “When The Mhuzulti company had stationed themselves on the northern coasts of the Ilori, the Caliphate had requested something similar. You will find that their legions are not going to crumble if their command falls from here on out. We had taught their forces this a few years back.” Halgier said, locking eyes with Lucas. Daring him to challenge what he did as a King and for what gain. 

     A long silent moment passed. Then another as Lucas got up from his seat to look out the window, folding his hands behind his back. With a sigh of great effort he spoke up. “How much did they pay you?” 

     “Four-hundred coins per officer. A total of six-hundred ranked officials trained by the Dwarven State.” 

     Hanging his head he asked, “Did you ever follow up with the Officers, or did you simply train them and be done with it? Did they display to you that they understood the training?”

     “No, we only trained them. We were never asked to follow up with competency, We left that up to the Sultan and his Advisor Ahmir.” Halgier responded coolly. 

     “We will double that if you follow up with them. I have a thousand officers Majestet, overseeing a hundred thousand soldiers. I need to know that this investment will pay off.” Lucas said.

     “We can negotiate that, otherwise I agree to those terms, Lucas. Now as for us being hired as an Auxiliary vanguard to the Galus military for the next few years, let's discuss this a bit more.” Halgier began, though Lucas held his hand up to his ear while some strange magic shimmered in his ear.

     “King Berthelot. Reporting from the Huronian Garrison along with the Forgemaster.” A man's voice sounded in his ear. 

     “Report, General Batiste.”

     “This ship is ready for its sea trials. Khamer and their crew have finished the installation of the artillery to the deck of the ironclad. In another note, a God’s Eye’s by the name of Netzet has been watching the entire process from the building of the Keel to the finishing work. He has never answered any questions as to why he was here everyday, though made no move to stop anything.” General Batiste reported.

     “Very well, proceed with the trials with the Arelion. Thank you for the report, General.” 

     Turning back to the Dwarven king, a quizzical look on his face. “Now that’s a new trick, couldn’t make out a damned thing whoever was speaking with you, clearly something communication related.”

     “And that, Halgier, where I get to tell you, that's all you’re getting.” He said with a grin. “Can’t let out all my national secrets.”

***

Year of Wrath 1231, Season of Waiting D.41 Ilgor

     The barrier around the wagon huffing it’s steam out in with a calming hum pulsed with my words. I didn’t care, I was angry, annoyed. I just wanted to complain to someone, anyone who wasn’t part of the family. Who knows, maybe he can offer some perspective I'm missing. I thought to myself. 

     The Sorcerer paged through his book while the glass of strong smelling spirit sat untouched next to me. “How can he be so bullheaded? He blames me for all that's happened recently? Did he happen to forget the fact that he is the one leading the raids? All I have been doing is offering Hob and the others advice, trying to change the way the city views us!” Turning to him, one of his canines sticking out from his lip, his eyes darted across the words on the page at an impossible rate. “What sin have I committed?” I finished, sitting back in the chair with a pout.

     “To his credit, you are undermining him with what you have been doing with the smith, as well as I.” He said not even looking up at me. “He may be ignorant of that fact, but from what you have told me. He shouldn’t be blind to the fact that his image in the Clan has changed.”

     “But he’s a hypocrite! He claims to be doing what is best for the Family, yet he does reckless things hoping that these flimsy blessings from Bhal will protect them! He never listens to anything I have to say on any matter of security of the village.” I was getting used to not having to control my voice around him. A tangible heat from my words caused him to finally look up from his book. 

     “You have been remarkably vague on that matter, Priestess. What do you mean, are you referring to the spear tactics, or not killing anything that moves.” The sarcasm wasn’t lost on me, though he conjured a plate of some sweet smelling meat on the small table we sat at. “Eat, Priestess. You are as skinny as a rail, besides, you get angrier when you are hungry. When did you eat last?”

     I looked at him with a genuine look of surprise, I hadn’t seen him show any actual care about me for quite some time. “Why are you changing the subject?” I asked him, eyeing the perfectly cooked slab of beef. Some fruity smelling sauce sitting in the dish. 

     He waved a dismissive hand. “Consider it a way of getting a coherent answer out of you. Not everything I do has malice to it.” 

     “So you’re admitting some of what you do, does. Took you long enough to admit it.” I said, pulling the plate toward me. Either I hadn’t noticed, or he was a lot more subtle with magic than I imagined, but there was a fork and knife right next to me now. 

     “I’m insulted that you hadn’t realized that yet!” He laughed, pouring a glass of honied wine for himself from a bottle that came from nowhere. “Back to the topic at hand.” He motioned for me to continue my story.

     The meal was something I had never experienced before. A tangy sour sweetness, accented by the rich marbling of the steak. Savory and satisfying. “What is this?”

     “I’m assuming you mean the sauce, it’s pineapple and soy sauce. A syrup made from cane sugar and red peppers. The heat from the peppers should be eliminated by the fat off the meat.” He said with a long draft from his glass. 

     “It’s wonderful. Than…”

     He cut me off, “None of that, really. I need no thanks.” 

     The annoyed bored expression I made caused him to laugh again. A bit more maniacally than normal. “Fine, Yorm won’t listen to me when I tell him about the tactics Hob and the other raiders have been doing. Trying to trade with the travelers rather than raiding them. They only fight when the discussions turn sour, but even then it’s only hit and run. Minimal to no casualties on both sides.”

“I tried to tell him about trading with the local farmers, but he dismissed it before I even got to anything substantial.” 

     He paused, swirling the light golden liquid in the glass. Pursing his lips, those awful teeth showing again. “You said he is tired of your insubordination, you have mentioned bringing this up before in times past before this latest argument. You have told me the words, how you said it. He has seen the Clan benefit from these tactics and schemes, though he is ignorant of your future plans? Barring the obvious of just telling him those plans, why haven't you?”

     “I…” I set the utensils down on the table, suddenly not hungry anymore.

     “Speak.” It was my turn to feel the power of compulsion that evidently others felt when we spoke. My attention snapping to his eyes. They bored into me, something not quite human about them. Something not quite right, not alive, not dead. Blackened pinpoints of light, the next half instant it was gone, his normal eyes where they should have been. 

     “I don’t want him to be disappointed in me. I don’t want to upset him or really even challenge him in his role. I just want him to be proud of what I have been doing, like Kari has.” I said sheepishly, looking away from him. 

Sitting back in his chair, folding his hands together, he motioned for me to continue. “I just want to bring the family up to the standard of living to the rest of the cities and towns around us. While they all have paved roads and street lights, we have game trails and fires in caves. While they have no fear of hunger during the winter, they have the ability to walk around without prejudice and judgment. We have to build up our stockpiles to endure the cold, we need to paint ourselves and hide our ears to make believe we are an entirely different species. I just want the family to have a safe and secure future.”

     “The road to hell is paved with good intentions. But, I believe a balance needs to be struck here. All things must be weighed in the scales of fate, your people sit at a point of opportunity that you alone are creating. There is an imbalance here that fortune has brought to my attention.” He rose from his chair and paced around the edge of the barrier. 

     “What do you mean?” I asked, not liking the intonation of his words. 

     “Why don’t you just take control of the village?” He asked, for once he sounded as if he knew nothing of our culture. Albeit I had never mentioned this to him, every time I tried to speak of our customs and rituals he spoke as if he already knew all of it. 

     Ice filled my veins at the thought. Shuddering, I shook my head, not wanting to think about it. His eyes darted over at me, noticing the magic nearly collapsing the barrier with my change in emotion. “What’s wrong? What caused this mood?”

     “The clan is meant to have both Mother and Father to lead. There cannot be only one, Bhal demands it to be so. The Mother cannot be the Father, I will not kill him to take his role.” I said, my voice resolute. 

     “I knew what Bhal demanded of” His mouth vanished with that odd curse he mentioned before, his mask hid his reaction. Though the trembling of the skin around where his mouth should have been, told of his annoyance. Soon enough his mouth returned with a snarl. “Damn that Fae bitch!”

     I cocked my head, question ready on my lips, but he bowled over me. “What is that fool demanding of you? Why does he need to die?”

     I was slow to respond as a few things clicked into place. “You are far older than I first thought. You speak about my god as if you know him, calling him a fool, pointing out his flaws so casually.”

     He grinned viciously, his entire form shifting imperceptibly. A vague haziness to his outline, as if his shadow had taken on a life of its own. His shadow looming long in the lantern light, moving out in twisted tendrils. “Why does he need to die, Priestess?”

     “For one Chief to rise to power, the prior must fall to the new. Bhal demands that only our strongest warriors are our Fathers. Proving that it is a duel to the death, to prove which is the better. Sometimes fellow raiders will join to defend their chosen Chiefs claim, sometimes not. Kari’s husband died during Yorm’s rise to power, along with several others.” I began.

     “It is unheard of in any of our history for the Priestess to challenge the Chief. I know that the raiders favor me, but…”

     “Why not? Unprecedented times call for unprecedented measures, little do you know about the events going on outside of your own little world. Besides, I can see why he would want such a trial to occur in your culture.” He spoke as he walked back to his chair. Though his next words were not quiet enough to be missed. “Besides, it’s useful to us.” 

     It was some hours later when I returned to the village. The sun burned low over the foothills to the west, casting a crimson light over the shore. The bright sphere of light, half hiding itself behind the high mountain peaks, as if it were anxious of the words I needed to speak. I knew this wasn’t going to go well, he might even…

     I didn’t want to think about it, I just needed to let him know about the Delegation Hob and I had heard about. I sighed, feeling the weight in my shoulders, already tired. Why couldn’t he just let his bullheadedness go? It would be so much easier if he would just recognize the issues with how he wanted to do things, but no, he always wanted to argue. 

     He was in the tavern, nursing a black eye. Pushing the heavy winter curtains aside, with a whisper, the small scraping noise of the metal rings on the rods giving my presence away. Knoll nodded, though a movement under the table with his hand told me to leave. They clearly had gotten into another fight, Knoll rubbed his bruised jaw and a viscous cut along his arm with an already soaked bandage. 

     I took a single step before Yorm’s ears perked up, tilting his drunken eyes toward me. Fury, fire, hatred plain on his face. “What the fuck are you doing here, Ilgor.” It wasn’t a question. 

     Hand straying to the saber at my hip, a motion not missed by Yorm even in his state, who only narrowed his eyes. Though Knoll had already positioned himself in a way to grab Yorm should the need arise. “Father, we need to talk about something very important. Something that is the highest priority for the Clan.” I spoke slowly, making sure he understood the sounds from my lips. Dosing them in power. 

     “The only thing I want to hear is an apology from you, you insolent little girl.” He seethed through his teeth. Catching Knoll’s fist in his before it struck him in the jaw again. Rising to his unsteady feet, Knoll tried to intercept him. Only to be thrown over Yorm’s shoulder through the table they sat at. 

     “Yorm, I only want to tell you to not attack one very specific target that will be coming through the territory. They…”

     “You will apologize for talking down to me, Priestess. I have only ever done what I thought best for the clan, and it is never good enough for you! Nothing I ever do is good enough for the Daughter of Kari!” He shouted, face red with liquor and anger. 

     “My Mother’s name is Ysry.” I told him softly. Danger edged in my voice, the saber already free of its scabbard. “You should remember the names of the dead, Father. They were under your watch after all.” 

     He stood motionless, mind cleared for but a moment. “Listen to me Chief, I just need you to not attack one traveling delegation. Wearing rich silks, strange patterns, heavily armed by a Galus military escort. I don’t care how much of a tempting target they make, leave. Them. Be.” 

     He teetered and fell back, his eyes never having left mine. Despite the obvious spinning in his head, he never looked away. Knoll gathered himself off the floor, glared down at him, never saying anything as he gently wrapped his arm around me. Guiding my sword back into its sheath, his strong hands a comfort to my fury. 

     “Tell me what you know, I’ll make sure he remembers it in the morning.” Though I didn’t really listen, I only turned in my friend's arms and hugged him tightly, crying not to cry.