Chapter 596: The Bare Truth

Everywhere, men prepared defenses against the coming attack or prepared themselves, offering prayers to the gods and the earth spirits. Each man prepared for battle, some overcoming fears, and others not caring at all. Cragstone had seen this before. Men who had lost their wives and families were drinking and sharpening their weapons. They had put themselves at the forefront of the battle, willing to charge their foes and die.

But they weren't alone. A hundred soldiers of the Empire were with them, all veterans of fierce battles. Missing legs or arms, blind or deaf, or weakened by age, they had come to fight one more time. The tribes welcomed them. They respected warriors, and saw the scars and injuries as medals won in battle. Some would walk to the battle on a wooden leg. Swords and axes were strapped firmly to arms that had no hands. And one old veteran was being pushed into battle on a wheeled cart. His friend pushing the cart was blind, but claimed he would know where to go by the sounds of battle.

All of them bore a tabard with the sigil of Ares, God of War. All of them had prayed for a last great battle to fight in, and the God was granting their wishes. The priests went to each one with oil and ash, adding the sigil to their foreheads to give them strength in battle, and when they were done, they approached the men of the North. Some of them stood, others ignored the priests.

"Why does a Southern god care about us?"

The priest wasn't upset by the question. "Ares offers his blessing to soldiers going to battle. He asks nothing in return. He watches every battle, and is honored that you give your lives in this way. His blessing won't protect you or give you courage. But it will give you the strength to fight harder and longer. The choice is up to you."

One older man stood up and walked to the priest. "And what about the people we fight? Does he bless them too?"

The priest grinned, "Only if they have their own priests. But I can ask one to nicely bend over so I can reach his forehead. If he does, bash him between the eyes with that axe."

That brought a laugh, and most of the northerners took the blessing, and all of them took the wineskins and bottles of alcohol offered by the veteran soldiers. Together, they waited for the giants to come, bringing their deaths with them.

Here and there, the Jarls talked as they sharpened axes. Old friends gathered their warbands and pledged to fight together. Cragstone sought them out, listening to each man, giving each man his say. Several small groups gravitated together to talk to him, with nearly half the Jarl's present. As they talked, one of them turned his head and grunted. "The nobles from the city are coming to talk to us."

"Probably to tell us their plan to guard the horses during the fight." The old story of Duke Storval hiding in the stables as the swarm came over the walls of his castle was a good one. They had many stories and jokes about the nobility of the empire, passed down through the generations.

"He'll have to ask us to build the stables before he can hide in them." That brought another laugh. Cragstone held up a hand, and the laughter stopped. "I'm curious about what he has to say."

Billy walked up, flanked by Layla. He looked up at Cragstone, "Got a question about the battle. Where do you want us?"

Cragstone shrugged, "You're the Baron. You claim this is your land. You say you came to fight and are welcome. Why ask me?"

"Because while I'm pretty good at turning a profit selling groats, and I'm not bad at slaughtering ghouls, I really don't know a damned thing about organizing a battle. You folk do, and you know what's coming. Best I can do is tell you the strengths of my troops so you know how to use us best."

There were a few murmurs at that. Cragstone nodded. "Tell me then."

Billy pointed at the center of the defenses. "If they're stupid and over-confident, and I'm told they are, a bunch will head straight in. The soldiers will fight to the last man, but even with the War God on their side, they're going to have trouble against giants, and we don't want our center disappearing at the start, not with all those ballistae on the hill behind them. My lovely Baroness and I are pretty good at killing, and better at holding a line. It's a long way to Gadobhra, but this is still our land. And our bodyguards are itching to get into battle, and don't care a bit how big those things are. If it's fine with you, we'll line up to the right of the center, and the Butcher's Brigade will be on the left."

Cragstone grimaced, "I saw them fight. They fight ugly, hacking at men and wolves like they are meat, tossing aside the bodies and moving to their next foe like it was a job. How do you train such warriors?"

Layla patted the cleaver hanging from her belt. "Gadobhra is the City of Butchers. Those men slaughter monsters every night for hours, wading through blood. We join them. Great training for hacking and slashing, but as Billy said, we aren't good with strategy. And they'll have Ozzy leading them." She pointed to a huge man carrying a tree trunk on each shoulder. The blade on his back looked bigger than any of his tribe could wield. And he'd seen it's like before.

"He is the fire giant from the battle? He looked taller then."

Billy nodded, "Yeah, he gets big and fiery really fast, and he'll toss out insults at the giants that blister their ears and piss them off. I'm counting on him to make sure they charge the center. We just have to hold and not give ground when they do. The ballistae and onagers will tear into them, and the trebuchets are sighted in and ready to hurl death at them. We'll kill for as long as we can. A bit worried if they get a clue and move around the flanks though."

Cragstone looked at the Jarls. "Baron William says his people will hold the center. I believe he can do that. Get every man or woman who has a horse mounted and ready for battle. Divide up the arrows among them. We'll harass any that try to lap around like packs of wolves. Thoughts?"

One Jarl spoke. "I'd rather die in the saddle." The rest agreed.

"Then see to it, hold your groups behind the town, out of sight until the giants engage the center. We'll give them one target, then hammer them from the flanks." The jarls dispersed, gathering warriors quite happy to fight on horseback instead of on foot. Cragstone waited for them to leave, then turned to the nobles. "Walk with me."

They followed him to a more secluded spot, away from the noise and possibly ears that shouldn't hear what he had to say. "I need to know why you are doing this. We invaded the Empire, fought you as enemies. I was no more than a hundred feet from your lines, ready to charge. And now you come to fight with us against monsters no man should stand against. You ask for the heart of the battle, sparing my people. What could you hope to gain from this, even if victorious? I need to know."

Billy looked at Layla and then back at Cragstone. "You want the bare truth? People say they do, but it can be ugly."

"You don't live in the north for as many generations as we did without learning that. We lived with monsters, and owed our existence to wizards who used us as pawns. Tell me."

Billy pulled a silver flask of whiskey from his sleeve. "Dwarven whiskey. Hits like a hammer, but this feels like the time for it." He took a sip, passed it to Layla, who drank, screwed up eyes, and passed the flask to Cragstone. The Jarl drank deeply, then bent over coughing.

"Like two hammers. Thank you." He waited for Billy to talk.

"I'm not liked in the Empire. I built a small village into a prosperous barony. A barony I got for waking up an ancient city the Empire would rather keep shut up. They liked me even less when I started selling food and goods into the Empire, undercutting people and shaking up the markets. The Empire is old and stagnant and has a problem with corruption. Probably no different from when you people headed north when the bugs ate everything up. The last thing a lot of people want to see is me getting more powerful, and all this new land they gave me has turned out to be a lot better deal than anyone thought. People will shit themselves when I start to immediately colonize it. And doubly hate it when they find out the people here were part of the winter army. And that warms my crooked heart. You see, they've pissed on me so much that I really don't care what they think. Hell, I like you folk a lot better already."

Layla picked up the conversation, "And, you'll make us a lot of money. We like money; it's better than power. We save your tribes, or part of them, and you'll be grateful to us. Then we help you get started here, raising horses and farming. You'll become prosperous; we'll make a lot of money. And you'll discourage people from moving too close. Who wants to live next to a bunch of bloodthirsty barbarians from the north?"

Cragstone grimaced, "You would use us as pawns against your enemies? We have stories of farmers raising 10 bushels of grain and paying 7 to their lord. Is that how this will be?"

Billy shook his head. "That's the idiots down south. I'd rather you raised 50 bushels and gave me 10. Then I'll invest 5 back and hope you can harvest 100 the next season, and give me 20. Starving farmers don't help me. Prosperous Jarls with steadings across the land are more interesting. I've got land. You have people. The Empire doesn't like either of us, but they'll have to keep their mouths shut. They need the food I provide and the problems my people solve. I'll present this to the Emperor as long-lost tribes from the Empire coming home after being forced to fight in the north. You just want to live peacefully and raise horses and packs of brats. Gus wanted his northern border secured and prosperous, and that's what we'll do."

"If we live."

Billy laughed, "Yeah, there is that small problem. How about we have another shot, then get ready to fight. Afterwards, we can figure out the small details of how your people and my people will work hard to make us all rich and piss off the rest of the Empire."

Cragstone clasped hands with the two of them, and they walked back to the camp, passing the flask of whiskey around until it was finished.