V4Ch1-Bad News, Your Grace

“That is why, henceforth, the assets of the Great Temple of Astara—”

A voice quietly coughed behind Grand Duke Giovanni, and he frowned but immediately stopped speaking. Instead of continuing to talk, he turned to face the King, sitting in his throne, partially in shadow, almost forgotten.

The Grand Duke strode back there and placed a hand gently on the monarch’s shoulder.

“Your Majesty, are you feeling unwell?” he asked in a kindly voice. “I wanted you present to lend these pronouncements more authority, but if you require a rest…”

“Giovanni, the man over there says he has some urgent news,” said King Numa II, pointing with a trembling finger toward a corner. “I ordered that he present it to you. He seemed to think that matter could not wait.”

“I see. Thank you for letting me know, Your Majesty.” Giovanni’s voice was dry. It was annoying to be interrupted by the figurehead King, but perhaps this messenger would have something legitimately important to say. It would look best if the Grand Duke at least heard the man out before he resumed speaking.

He stepped over to where the messenger was waiting, at attention.

With any luck, this is news about Caracalla’s expedition, Giovanni thought. If that has been successfully resolved, his army can return here to recover. And I can send Verus to reinforce Pius or Vespasian at the borders.

Neither the ogre horde nor the Walian Empire, the Kingdom’s traditional rival, should be a serious problem at the moment, but underestimating either one could mean disaster. The fact that they were both quarrelsome at the moment also doubled the potential danger.

If either Pius or Vespasian’s force was defeated, there were still Generals Verus, Commodus, and Pertinax with their respective armies, but dispatching Verus would leave the capital undefended, and Commodus and Pertinax were further away, training their forces. They would take time to reach wherever they were needed.

The messenger saluted as Giovanni closed the distance, and the Grand Duke returned the gesture. He noticed for the first time that the man wore a sentinel’s badge, and Giovanni frowned.

He’s one of our watchmen, not one of Caracalla’s people. Disappointing.

“Please forgive my intrusion, Your—”

“What news, soldier?” the Duke asked in a low voice, cutting the man off.

“Bad news, Your Grace,” the man said quickly, correctly assessing Giovanni’s mood in an instant.

Bad news again?

Just a few days ago, Giovanni had received a message from General Sevenhills, requesting assistance for his army at the Walian border. Now there was some new headache.

“Spit it out,” the Grand Duke said. “What news?”

“Dozens of refugees have entered the capital this morning. My captain believed that you and the King should be informed at once. Dozens of men, women, and children. We’re keeping them out of the city proper, uh, in and around gatehouse two. Discretion, Your Grace, to avoid creating panic.”

Giovanni could hardly restrain his impatience. Why exactly would there be a panic?

“What story are they telling?” he asked. “Let me guess, there was a battle fought in the Salt Waste or in our border region with the Discontented Lands or Walia? One of our armies fought there, a village was destroyed, and these people want compensation?”

This was not news. Any battle near a civilized area would displace people. The Grand Duke supposed he could at least get an update on the fate of one of these fronts if he spoke with the refugees personally. But this was not worth interrupting him for. He had been in the middle of announcing new royal policies, in the King’s presence, before the royal court and visiting foreign dignitaries.

Doing so when the King was present was valuable, since legally, King Numa was the source of all authority for them. If the King was not perceived as backing Giovanni’s declarations, then some foolish noble might be emboldened to oppose one of the policies.

This last pronouncement was going to be particularly important and controversial. The Grand Duke had been about to announce that the Crown was seizing the Great Temple of Astara and all of its assets in and around Enh as punishment for the crimes of the High Priestess and her accomplices.

“No, Your Grace,” the soldier said as Giovanni quietly fumed.

He blinked.

Wait, what?

“What do you mean, no?” he asked slowly. “What’s the story, then?”

“Your Grace, a horde of ogres is destroying villages in all directions around the capital,” the sentinel replied. “Scores of villages have been destroyed.”

What the fuck do you mean?

“Soldier, you need to communicate more clearly,” Giovanni said slowly, trying to maintain some level of patience and not curse aloud where the court might overhear him. “You said dozens of refugees have come. If scores of villages have been destroyed, there should be hundreds or perhaps thousands of refugees.”

“No, Your Grace,” the soldier said. “According to the refugees, the ogres made it a point to attempt to kill every person they came across.”

Ogres? Then…?

“And these were the first to arrive out of those who survived? That must have been weeks ago if it happened at the Discontented Lands border… What is General Pius doing? Why has he not sent word that a major battle was fought?”

“Your Grace, respectfully, the reports are that it was not at the Discontented Lands border but in a circular sweep around the capital, drawing closer to Enh as the attacks continued. Nor have we received word of any major battle was fought. These are just defenseless villages, sir. I have heard nothing about General Pius, but no one has mentioned anything about a battle of any kind. Only one-sided slaughter.”

A cold sweat began to run down Giovanni’s back as, finally, he grasped what the sentinel’s report actually meant. He had been too settled in his own expectations to understand at first.

Either the ogres slipped past Pius somehow… or they already defeated him, and now they’re cutting a path through the countryside. Either way, they’re almost certainly on their way here now.

“How…?” He took a deep breath, licked his lips, and shook his head. “How far to the south were these villagers’ homes?”

How long do we have to prepare?

“I am given to understand that most of the villages destroyed have been to our north, Your Grace,” the sentinel said. “There have been some destroyed to the east and west, as well, but nothing to the south that I’m aware of.”

Impossible! They would have to have traveled north, completely bypassing all of the villages along the way, and the capital itself, only to end up raiding mainly the area between here and the Salt Waste. The least prosperous part of the Kingdom. How?! Ogres are not known for stealth. Or boatbuilding. And General Pius is not incompetent. I’ve drummed out all the incompetent generals by now. How would the horde have slipped by him to come so far north, without him having sent us word? And why? Why would they forego the riches and food they could plunder if they took Enh in favor of attacking villages?

Well, then again, the latter decision made at least a little sense. Villages were soft targets. Ogres weren’t clever or patient enough to besiege well defended cities successfully. That was part of what made humans and not ogres the most successful race on the continent.

“I will… I will speak to these refugees personally,” Giovanni said finally.

Something was wrong. He needed more information urgently.

The Grand Duke turned back to the court.

“Honorable ladies and gentlemen, important matters require His Majesty’s attention right now,” he said. “We will continue these affairs when there is more time.”

There were murmurs of discontent from a few corners, but gradually, everyone began to rise, bow, say their formal farewells, and leave the audience hall.

After a few minutes, Grand Duke Giovanni was able to excuse himself from the King’s presence without looking as if he was simply dismissing His Majesty.

The soldier took Giovanni to where they were keeping the refugees. At last, he would get some answers.

As they approached, the Grand Duke could spy the adults and their children sitting and standing atop the city’s defensive walls, visible through the gaps in the battlements.

He narrowed his eyes. The sentinel had told him they were keeping the refugees out of Enh to avoid panic.

Visible to passersby is not my idea of discretion, Giovanni thought.

But when he drew closer, he quickly revised his opinion.

The soldier greeted his colleagues at gatehouse two, they saluted the Grand Duke, and they let the two men in. Simply opening the door revealed that the refugees were packed into the northeast towers, humans sitting on every stair, on and underneath furniture. Only overflow refugees sat atop the city’s defensive walls, and it was a relatively small number. Not enough to alarm anyone, at least. Not like the crowd before Giovanni’s eyes right now.

“Your Grace, it’s an honor to have you among us,” began the captain of the guard for the second gate.

Giovanni simply waved a hand to cut him off. “Thank you, but skip the formalities. My business here is pressing, as you undoubtedly understand. I am here to speak with these men and women. Hopefully they will have something of interest to tell me.” He looked the captain in the eyes, and the man instinctively lowered his gaze.

The Grand Duke was not merely the highest of nobility but the real power behind the throne, after all.

“The gatehouses are yours, of course, Your Grace,” the captain said after a moment. “Please let me know how my men can be of help.”

“Simply leave me,” Giovanni replied. “Wait outside. People often speak more candidly the fewer interrogators they have to speak with.”

“Um, your personal security, Your Grace?” the sentinel asked.

The Grand Duke simply smiled dryly. “Do you think any of these men and women driven from their homes possess the power to break through my magic?”

With a thought, the air suddenly crackled with mystical energy. The soldier and the captain exchanged glances. Giovanni knew the effects they were experiencing just being close to him. The hair on their bodies was probably standing on end. The body’s way of telling them they were both out of their league if he chose to attack them.

Unless there was an enemy far more powerful than himself here, he shouldn’t be in any danger. And no such enemy would willingly place themselves in the custody of the Kingdom’s soldiers for as long as these people had, not unless they were willing to throw away their lives.

The captain and soldiers saluted and then simply left, filing out in an orderly line.

Giovanni finally spoke with the survivors, but the discussions with them brought him no peace.

Story after story confirmed the same information - and the same lack of real details.

“The ogres took everything.”

“One assaulted our neighbor while another disemboweled him!”

“They ate everything in sight.”

“I saw one eating a severed arm…”

“None were spared.”

The Grand Duke quickly grew weary of the same story repeated over and over again, though of course, that same repetition with minor variations gave everything a ring of truth.

“Is there nothing else?” he asked one of the families as they reported their experience to him. “Not that I want to put words in your mouths, but you’ve echoed a sequence of events I’ve heard from a dozen people already. If there’s anything else you saw or heard that might be useful as we fight this threat…”

“One of them called out, ‘For the necromancer!’ as he charged,” said the family’s young son earnestly.

Giovanni’s eyes fixed on the child, who smiled up at His Grace with an innocent expression.

That is new.

“We can’t be certain if we heard that, Your Grace,” said the mother hurriedly. A frumpy woman in a ragged dress, she looked petrified of the Grand Duke.

“Although I do seem to recall something that sounded like those words,” added the father.

They were clearly afraid to give wrong information. They knew who Giovanni was. They knew that their identities would be remembered if they misled him.

But, improbable though the words seemed, he didn’t think the boy was mistaken in his recollection.

If there is any chance the boy recalls correctly, I must act as if the matter is certain, Giovanni decided. I suppose seizing the Temple’s property will have to wait. I cannot afford to stir up further political controversy and alienate the priesthood further if the necromancer and the ogre horde are somehow working together.

He shook his head and looked the nervous parents in the eye.

“Thank you for sharing your experience. You and your boy’s courage and fortitude are commendable. You’re safe now.” Giovanni gave each member of the family a reassuring pat on the shoulder before he moved on.

When he stepped outside, the captain and sentinel were waiting anxiously to receive his next orders.

“Escort them back out of my city,” the Grand Duke said. “Find nearby villages to resettle them in.”

The two men exchanged a quick look. It was subtle - they disciplined themselves to keep it to a small fraction of a second - but easy enough for Giovanni to notice.

“What is it?” he asked.

“Your Grace, they retreated here because of the safety of the city walls,” the captain said in an uncertain tone.

“They may be difficult to manage if we tell them they have to leave, Your Grace,” the sentinel finished.

“You had the right of it before, gentlemen,” Giovanni said. “We must avoid a panic. This city could become a battleground, and I will not have people fleeing or the city going into any form of civil disorder before that happens. The testimony of these refugees would absolutely push us toward that. If any resist you, simply execute them.”

He turned to leave, and the two soldiers, who had been seemingly paralyzed at his words, quickly saluted.

“Yes, Your Grace!” they replied simultaneously.

He sensed they would not deviate from his orders.

Good. That’s one potential headache dealt with.

There was more to do now, though. He went over his plans silently as he walked.

I must meet with the Order of the Red Blade. If the ogres are truly under the command of this necromancer now, and they’re advancing toward the capital, then perhaps it’s possible that he will win his engagement with Caracalla. Ogres are famously magic resistant, and Caracalla has always kept the truth of how his ability works close to the vest. And in any case, a necromancer’s army tends to become directionless if the leadership is decapitated. Assassins are the perfect tool. I would have employed them already if they didn’t charge a king’s ransom… and if I didn’t have Caracalla on my side. By Kur, while I’m at it, perhaps I should dispatch our special forces.

He shook his head. If he lost the Kingdom’s best, they would be irreplaceable. But he didn’t sense an alternative path. Maybe they would be more effective if he instructed the assassins to act as support for the special forces in a joint operation.

As Caracalla suggested, a relatively small, elite group is the best way to deal with a necromancer… I’ll also have to send Pius a message, instructing him to turn his army north. The ogres he’s been hunting are apparently no longer in the Discontented Lands border region. And I suppose I’d better dispatch support for Vespasian at the Walian border. If we have an unpleasant surprise there, too, the Kingdom could be devoured from two different directions before we get our feet under us properly.

Giovanni sighed.

It seemed Niet would not be secure enough for him to safely seize the Grand Temple’s property for some time yet.