"I met one young soldier here by the name of Arlath Thellis. He is the son of Duke Thellis and had opted to come here to the capital to train. He's a natural leader, that one. I could tell as soon as I met him. He's just one of many though.
When I went to Talabec, they had a reasonable number of soldiers based there, but I think that we have become somewhat lazy in our military matters. If ten thousand angry Skardans marched into the kingdom and attacked, I don't see many of our towns standing very long. We need to increase our defenses."
There was a long pause before Jolas spoke up. "We are not in any immediate danger though."
"That's true, but I'm looking to the future here."
"It would be easy enough to begin training more recruits in each location," shrugged Jolas.
Afaron nodded. "Talabec and Sentir are definitely key for this. I also want more men at Fort Calden and Turambar, when available. Plus, our border posts should be reinforced."
Talgan felt his stomach knot. "Surely we are not expecting trouble from Morassia or Karnath, sire," he said.
Afaron stared at him for a moment, making him uncomfortable.
"It is just the next logical step. Nothing more."
Talgan leant back in his chair and his mind drifted to the recent meeting with the dark foreigner. If more soldiers were sent north, whatever plans his associates had could be in jeopardy. However, he still did not know exactly what was being planned and the whole situation was beginning to unnerve him. During the several visits from the foreigner, he had been questioned about various aspects of the Rotian Kingdom. His interest seemed to have been focused on the northern lands and, with the most recent visit's topic being Barentin and the nearby border, Talgan knew that the imminent changes were going to begin within that region.
He remembered back to when he had first met the strange foreigner. He had returned home one night after a particularly long and tedious meeting to find the man waiting for him in his chambers. Somehow, he had known of Talgan's lack of faith in the king and his council and he had explained of his people's plan to change the Rotian Kingdom for the better. Talgan had agreed to help them only when he had been told his eventual reward in the matter. He would be the only Rotian permitted to have power and sway. With this new power, he could shape things to his liking and hoped to be given control of the city.
The only thing concerning him was that he did not know the intricate details of the foreigner's plans. How exactly were these associates of his going to take control of all the cities, towns and military within the kingdom? He assumed by the mannerisms of his contact that they would use force where need be and that anybody standing their ground would most likely be brushed to one side. Still, he wished he knew more.
"I must make time to go to the other regions," stated Afaron to his council. "There is still work to be done in the kingdom."
"What work do you speak of, sire?" asked Jolas.
Afaron smiled at the old nobleman. "If I mention the name
Naskador
, what is the first thing that enters everyone's mind?"
"Thieve's Capital." Jolas' response was followed by murmurs of agreement from the other members of the council.
"Exactly." Afaron glanced around the table. "Naskador is a problem for this kingdom. Whilst we allow the thieves and robbers to work their dubious trade, the more honourable people of the city lose faith in us."
"You cannot expect to cleanse the entire city of these thieves surely, sire," cried one of the nobles, a plump man garishly dressed in ill-fitting clothes. "We have talked about this action before and remember what happened to those poor souls we sent there."
Afaron sighed impatiently. "I remember what happened, Karrid. I understand that the network the thieves have created is vast, but it is like a spider's web. Cut one strand and the rest remains in position, but cut the other strands one by the one and the web weakens until it collapses completely."
"Most of the city guards in Naskador are too scared to even attempt any action," said Karrid.
"Then we should think about training men to infiltrate this network. I want you all to give this some thought and we will discuss when the time is more appropriate."
"What of the other regions then, sire?" Jolas prompted. "Are you planning to head out again and visit them soon?"
"It takes time to travel to Kariska and Karthain. I will arrange to leave when my schedule allows it." Afaron could see the faces around the table beginning to tire. "I apologise for keeping you from your families this evening, gentlemen. Other matters can wait until morning."
The noblemen slowly stood and began to leave the meeting chambers. Talgan was the first out of his chair and through the doorway. Jolas remained seated.
"Something you wanted to speak about, my friend?" asked Afaron.
"Celestius wanted me to apologise to you for his absence. He is busy making preparations to bring his son here."
"Ah, yes. Young Gorric Orgillian is coming to Vylandor. I had quite forgotten. I look forward to meeting him finally."
"Celestius is full of praise for his son and believes that he will make a fine speaker at this table."
"Of course Celestius praises him, Jolas. What father would not want great things for his child?"
Jolas smiled and raised an eyebrow at the king. "When exactly is our liege going to think about his heir?"
Afaron shot the nobleman a dark look. "As I tell you each time you ask, I have too much to do at present. In two or three years time, I will give it some serious thought."
"I do not mean to tell you how to run your life, sire, but the people are talking. Noblemen have offered their daughters to you and you have declined every time. The people want an heir, sire. What would happen if…" Jolas shook the thoughts from his head.
"Speak your mind," ordered Afaron, seeing the old nobleman hesitate.
"I am concerned that, if something were to happen to you, you would have no heir to take your place. You never know what is destined for you."
Afaron chuckled. "My destiny is my own, my friend. I don't intend to get myself killed just yet."
"With the talk about Naskador, sire, I was concerned that you might be in danger if you journey there."
Afaron stood and placed a hand on the nobleman's shoulder. "Jolas, I promise you now that, upon my return, I will take one of these ladies as my wife and give you the heir you want."
"Shall I arrange an audience so that you can meet these women? For your return, of course."
Afaron grinned. "Of course. If it keeps you busy, then by all means go ahead. I look forward to it when I come back…alive."
Jolas scowled at him, then bowed gracefully and left the chambers.
Chapter 5
Rain slowly began to fall in the early morning chill as the three riders reached the apex of the hill. They reined their horses to a halt and looked down at the trade town of Barentin.
The town was situated on the banks of the River Ulmerien and the only way to reach it was by boat or by bridge, unless approached from the east. It was a substantial size, but was an ugly town, with buildings seemingly constructed wherever there was enough ground. The docks stretched along the river's north bank and many ships were moored there. These were no doubt merchant or passenger vessels.
People could be seen moving around the streets, with wagons full of cargo being taken from the docks to the warehouses. A market was beginning to appear in the town square, which was situated near to the docks.
"It does not look important," stated one of riders. He was a slight man, wearing a black tunic and trousers, with a long dark cloak that he pulled tight around his frame.
"Rarely does a place of great importance impress, Balthus," growled a second rider, who wore blackened chain mail. He too wore a cloak, but this had upon it an emblem of a dragon's head. At his side hung a longsword, his left hand resting upon its hilt.
Balthus flinched at the response. He was certain that the commander did not like him, but simply accepted his presence.
"The town awakens," he said, watching as the streets below became busier. "When do we plan to visit this wondrous place?"
Commander Draliak turned in his saddle and glared at Balthus. "I brought you up here for your insight, invoker. If you can offer none, then return to the camp."
Balthus met Draliak's unamused eyes and smiled. "My apologies, commander. I am not used to the rainfall and my spirits are somewhat dampened."
Draliak eyed the invoker with contempt. He had never trusted the magical arts. Steel and blood were the things he believed in most of all. He had not become the commander of the Shada-Kavielian army by holding his faith in magic. He had earned it by his actions on the battlefield. The high mage, Sephonis, had requested Balthus join their cause, as an aid during the attack on Barentin. What good the invoker could do was unknown. A few magic tricks would not aid them to victory, yet this young Shada-Kavielian was undergoing training from Sephonis himself. That fact meant that Balthus had dangerous potential. If he possessed even a third of the power Sephonis wielded, then he would be better as an ally rather than an enemy.
Draliak glanced at the third rider, who sat quietly watching the town. The commander knew him enough to trust him. He had first met Saroth twenty years ago when he was being trained as an assassin back in Shada-Kaviel, but his duties moved to other matters such as infiltrating and spying. It was Saroth who had found the Rotian contact in Vylandor, a nobleman by the name of Talgan Akalla. Only recently had Saroth returned from his mission to the Rotian capital.
"What thoughts, Saroth?" asked Draliak. "You seem lost in them."
Saroth reached up and pulled back his hood, allowing the cool rain to run down his face. His dark hair slowly began to become matted to his skin. It was longer than Draliak's or Balthus', but only because he had been journeying so much of late. He would cut it back from his eyes before the attacks began in earnest. "I was thinking of my last meeting with Akalla," he said quietly. "The fool was so nervous that he actually drew his sword against me."
"Even I would not be foolish enough to do such a thing," stated Draliak.
Saroth smiled coldly. "It felt strange that all of my instincts cried out to kill the man where he stood, yet I did not."
"If you had killed him, then we would have had to find another informant. You made the right choice."
"It sounds as though this rotian could be a problem," said Balthus, fully aware that neither man was speaking to him.
Saroth glanced at him. The invoker was nearly half his age, which meant that Saroth could not see him as an equal. However, the protégé of Sephonis' had no fear it seemed.
"This
rotian
is my problem, invoker. Let me decide his fate."
Balthus nodded. "Of course." He thought for a moment. "Does this rotian know much about us?"
"No. He knows nothing of Shada-Kaviel or its people. He does not know that I am sixty-three years of age. He looks at me and sees a man who has not yet reached his thirtieth year, such is the difference between us and them."
"Why is it they live for a shorter period of time?" Balthus asked, more to himself than the others.
Draliak sighed deeply. "That is of no consequence. We age slower and thus live longer. It is the way of the world, now I tell you for the last time to concentrate on the matter before us."
"Of course, commander. I apologise." Balthus smiled to himself.
"Tomorrow evening, as night falls, our force rides into Barentin from the east," said Draliak. "Today, we move the camp in preparation."
Balthus frowned. "What of the town's protection?"
"Minimal," answered Saroth, drawing his hood back up. "They have a town guard who are slow to act. Our men will cut them to shreds before they can even raise the alarm."
Draliak pointed towards the river. "Our force will split into four units once we enter Barentin, with men taking any of the ships who are unlucky enough to be moored there at the time."
"Surely the ships will set sail when they realise the attack is happening," pointed out Balthus.
"They will not have time to sail. The men will be upon them quickly and whilst they are preparing for sleep. Chances are that most of the crew will be drinking the night away in the local taverns."
Saroth raised his hood. "Where will you be, commander?"
"I will be leading the main force into the heart of the town, where the market is situated now. When the attack is over, I want to be able to ride to this hill again and look down at what's left of Barentin."
"What
will
be left?" asked Balthus, already knowing the answer.
"We will burn Barentin and kill anyone who opposes us, invoker. The townsfolk will be taken. Sephonis has plans for them back in Shada-Kaviel."
"Slavery?" came Saroth's quiet voice from within the shadows of his hood.
"Most likely, yes. What else he has planned for them, I cannot say."