The Wandering Inn_Volume 1

by Pirateaba

  He hated being treated like that. But Umina was new to his group of students and so she wasn’t quite used to his stature. Either she would learn or she would not. Niers concentrated on the battle and put petty distractions aside.

  Yes, that was the irony of the nickname his enemies had given him. Niers had embraced the name, but it did cause confusion, which was why he sensed the Courier’s eyes on his back as he turned back to the map.

  To hear talk of the second-in-command of one of the Four Great Companies of Baleros, Niers was a giant in every sense. He led his armies to victory after victory, using his mind as a weapon where most [Generals] led with their swords. He could outmaneuver any foe, defeat any force, even those three times as large as his. With his Skills he could turn his soldiers into horrific monsters, yet if he needed to retreat his army would become ghost on the battlefield.

  He was a monster, the highest-level [Strategist] on the continent—perhaps the world. Quite sensibly, Niers kept his exact level hidden, but his prowess was unmatched. So they called him the Titan, and only some got the joke. And that was that Niers was tiny. He was only six inches tall.

  Aside from that one detail, Niers looked like any middle-aged man. His hair was dark black, slightly grey, and he had a powerful, if minuscule, build. He wore armor as expensive as any [Lord]’s—more expensive in truth, given that [Blacksmiths] had a terrible time forging anything so small. And he looked Human again, apart from the issue of his height.

  Niers was actually quite tall for an individual of his race, but of course that meant very little when the average height of his people was about as tall as a Human’s hand. The Fraerlings, or the Small Folk as they were more commonly known, were a reclusive people on Baleros, who seldom took part in continental or worldly events, preferring to stay within their small communities and only travel to villages, towns, and cities on the occasionally trip to sell goods or request aid from adventurers.

  Except that of course, there were exceptions. And it could easily be claimed that Niers was the most famous Fraerling in the world. It wasn’t a position he particularly relished; he would have liked to be known for his strategic prowess rather than his origins, but fame was fame, and he knew he was a hero to the children of his kind.

  Umina hesitated as she held the bunch of letters the Courier had brought. Niers knew she was capable of magic, but burning a set of missives that came from a Courier must have gone against all her instincts.

  “I should just—?”

  “A flame. Here.”

  One of Niers’ older students intervened before Umina could interrupt their teacher. He raised took the letters from Umina in gauntleted hands and let her conjure a small flame between her hands. The letters curled and burnt away as he held them to the last, calmly, without fear of fire.

  Cameral dusted his hands, letting the ashes fall to the earthen ground of the tent. Niers nodded and grunted irritably.

  “The message was not to your liking, lord?”

  “It was pointless. They were more letters from Lady Magnolia.”

  “Ah.”

  The mood in the tent changed. Niers had countless students, although only twelve or so were present in this large tent. Each of them he had accepted on the basis of their incredible minds and ability in battle. But any [Strategist] of worth would know the political realm as well as the battlefield, and Lady Magnolia was on a short list of names one memorized no matter where you were in the world.

  One could argue that Niers’ burning of her letters was an affront; a dangerous one given the influence and power of the Reinharts. But he was powerful enough in his own right that he could do such things. The nature of his correspondence with Magnolia Reinhart was a mystery to his students, but Niers already knew they would be discussing the issue or sending their own spies and informants out after this meeting. It was commendable of them, if predictable.

  Still, Niers had to admit he was growing equally parts curious and annoyed from Magnolia’s incessant attempts to contact him. She sent letters via Courier in waves, to the extent that Niers found himself hounded by her.

  They were always the same letters, too. A gentle invitation to speak with her via mage spell, or even in person should he have the opportunity. Thus far Niers had done neither such thing, nor had he replied to her via letter. Again, it was an act of rudeness, but one he thought she would expect and the only sensible course of action he felt he should take.

  He had no desire to be ensnared in the woman’s schemes, much less to talk with her at the moment. Niers had met her only twice in his life, but he had learned to be exceptionally wary of her.

  Moreover, he feared that if he ever did talk to her, she would offer him a prize he couldn’t refuse. And he was loyal to his company and his commander to a fault; far better not to be tempted in the first place.

  “Try not to agonize over the woman too much, would you? Magnolia Reinhart’s mind would put most [Strategists] and [Generals] to shame and we have a battle to win.”

  Cameral nodded gravely and the others shifted, as if they were children being caught out in a mischief. It always seemed to amaze them that Niers knew what they were thinking, but of course that was just their imaginations. He simply knew what they would do because he had been like them, once.

  The armored man’s head wobbled as he nodded and Cameral put one hand up to steady it.

  “Take it off if it’s loose. I’ve told you, I don’t need you to look like a Human all day long and I have no desire to be squashed by your head.”

  That remark went to Cameral. He was a Dullahan, hence his loose connection between head and body. When he took his head apologetically off the suit of armor, dark orange light could be seen flickering within the armor’s opening.

  It wasn’t empty armor, Niers knew. There was some kind of flesh and blood in there, hence the Dullahan’s need to cover it with protection. Cameral’s armor was quite good steel—Niers had seen other Dullahans with wood armor or inferior scrap metal, but his subordinates wore high-quality gear.

  Gently, Cameral cradled his head in his hands, turning it so he could see the table and Niers better. It was how Dullahans like to see things—either that, or have their heads float by their side, but this was apparently rude and so the man thought he needed to put his head on his shoulders every time he was in Niers’ presence. It was a sign of respect, but it grated on Niers’ nerves.

  All distractions aside, Niers could finally focus on the battle. He stared down at the open, grassy plains his opponent had chosen for the battlefield. It was gently sloping, giving a height advantage to the defending army that was camped at the crest of the incline. A solid choice of location in other words, but Niers had already encircled the army with his own.

  Their opponent for the day was a [General] with defensive skills named Grimvol. Niers had forgotten what spat had caused their company to be called in, but he had led an army out to defeat this foe with as few losses as possible. After that would come pay, relaxation, and rest—until the next contract.

  They were a mercenary group, one of the finest. Niers had been fighting for over fifty years in Baleros’s endless plains and deep jungles and yet he knew each battle could be his last.

  Probably not this one, though.

  The small pieces on the table were quite obvious to anyone familiar with this type of planning. Niers and Grimvol had nearly equally large armies, perhaps with a few more numbers on Grimvol’s side, and their warriors were nearly of the same level. The banners floating over each piece’s head denoted their relative level and Niers had other pieces to mark warriors in his and Grimvol’s army with high levels or unique classes.

  This battle looked straightforward. Niers’ army would surround and consume Grimvol’s force, denying any attempts the man made to push his way out. Niers had left a heavy presence of his soldiers to the north and south while he was personally leading his heaviest vanguard to the west.

  It made sense. Niers was the commander of his army an
d he needed the protection of his soldiers, not to mention his abilities would be most useful with more soldiers. The east of Grimvol’s army had the weakest part of Niers’ army, because that was where a forest met the plains. It would be hard to fight in that terrain, and if Grimvol tried to retreat into the dense jungle of Baleros he would risk becoming lost or surrounded in that hostile environment.

  “I will let you spearhead the assault, Cameral. Take it slow and make it seem like we’re ready for a pitched battle so he has plenty of time to launch his surprise attack.”

  The Dullahan nodded as the others looked to the eastern section of the map. Yes, Grimvol had predicted Niers would do exactly this, and he had capitalized on the [Strategist]’s plans. This entire battle was a deadly trap designed to kill Niers Astoragon and rout his army.

  Niers sighed. It was almost sad, really. Grimvol wasn’t nearly confident enough to take him on by himself. That was obvious, so anyone with half a brain would check for a trap or some secret to the location the other [General] had chosen. And Niers had found the trap Grimvol had set with depressing ease.

  He was expecting to receive reinforcements from a much larger army hidden in the jungle to the east. Unfortunately for him, Niers had already destroyed that army and replaced that force with his own yesterday, and it would be two of his subordinates that appeared with his army instead.

  “Wil and Yerranola are already in position. They will arrive within minutes. Conserve your soldiers until then, and move in.”

  The others nodded. Niers had sent two of his more senior students to take command of his second force and they were already waiting for the battle to begin. Grimvol didn’t know it, but he was facing fifteen [Strategists] and [Tacticians] not including Niers himself. It was overkill, but there were no other battles Niers’ company was engaged with at the moment and everyone could use the practice.

  Ordinarily, in the face of such overwhelming odds most [Generals] and [Lords] would take the day off to celebrate and relax, confident in their complete victory.

  However, Niers was still planning out the next days’ battle with excruciating care. He disliked overconfidence as a rule, and, moreover, it was in his nature to be detailed to the extreme. A few minutes of work could save hundreds of lives, and as long as that was the case he would not rest.

  Niers pointed to the map and looked at Umina, the young woman he’d entrusted with his division of cavalry for the battle. She was a lizard girl, which was to say, a member of the Lizardfolk, who were not the same as Drakes. There was a lot of bad blood between the species, and despite their superficial differences, they were quite separate races.

  “Sweep in from the left and hit his cavalry before they can start moving. One he’s pinned from all sides he should surrender fairly quickly.”

  She nodded with a trace of uncertainty. This would be the first time Nires had put Umina in a command position, and with his swift-moving cavalry elites, no less. He believed she would rise to the challenge, but it seemed the girl herself didn’t believe that.

  Perhaps he should advise Marian to talk with her? No, that was best left for her to do herself, As touchy as the Centaur could be, he knew that she and Umina were friends.

  It might have been easier for Marian, the largest of his students in the tent, to lead Niers’ cavalry. She was a centaur and more naturally suited to the rapid attacks and deployment that her species used in battle. That was why Niers had her coordinating the stationary mage unit that would be intercepting spells and bombarding the enemy army.

  No one in his group of students would be fighting in their strongest field, which was how he’d intended it. Overspecialization in a one area just meant you had a bigger weak spot to hit, and so Niers took care to push his subordinates to improve themselves.

  Without risking his army, of course.

  “I would like for there to be less than forty casualties tomorrow. Try to achieve that, although a bloodless victory on our side would be even more welcome if it were possible.”

  That meant no heroic charges. Niers was speaking to all of his students, but his eyes lingered upon one of his newest recruits, a tall female Minotaur who stood with her arms crossed, frowning intensely down at the map. She nodded silently. Venaz was in charge of his left flank, and she was no doubt keen to impress him. She had been sent from the Isles of Minos after much competition to become his student, he gathered, and the Minotaur was always attempting to outshine his other students.

  When had he stopped becoming a leader of soldiers and started becoming a teacher? Niers scratched at his head and frowned. It was tiresome, he had to admit. But the world needed more [Strategists] and his students had a way of being persistent.

  “Very well, I believe we are finished. Oh, one last thing. Have…yes, Venaz, have your drummer beat a signal when the battle is about to begin.”

  The Minotaur looked at Niers curiosity.

  “What should I have him transmit?”

  “Anything. Just make it complex, would you?”

  “Is there a purpose to this?”

  That showed how new she was. Venaz blushed a bit as his more senior students chuckled and pawed at the ground but made no comment. Touchy. Niers sighed.

  “Stop that. The exercise of the drum signals Venaz, is to confuse the enemy. The complex signals mean nothing to my soldiers. It will be meaningless to everyone but Grimvol. He will wonder about what the signal means and whether or not his trap has been discovered. It will slow his reactions and make him more hesitant than he already is.”

  And his nerves would already be shot because he was going up against the legendary Astoragon, who saw through traps and deception in an instant. But Niers did not say that out loud, because while true, it was pointless ego-stroking. His students understood what he meant, and if they did not, there was no place for them here.

  “You have your positions. Try not to get hit by a spell or arrow, would you? You have the rest of the night to yourselves. If you will excuse me, I have a game to return to.”

  Almost as one, his student’s gazes flicked to the side of the tent. Niers was so small that he actually slept in his command tent, on top of one of the tables in a smaller cot. That was just for convenience’s sake; Niers had no desire to be stepped on by a sleepy soldier in the night or find himself under attack by the local wildlife. Or bugs.

  But pride of place sitting next to his personal lodgings was a chess board. That was hardly unique in this camp; as the inventor of the game of Chess, Niers’ students played the game almost religiously, as did much of Baleros for that matter.

  Yet this board was different. For one thing, it was magical. The ghostly chess pieces shimmered in the cool air, as light as a feather but as firm as steel. The pieces stood here, but also somewhere else in the world, mirroring each move exactly.

  Another item that cost a fortune. But this one was indisputably worth it. With it, Niers could play a game with anyone else in the world. Or rather, one person.

  It sat next to Nier’s tent, a message anyone could understand. Here was an opponent Niers considered worthy of his time, a worthy match for the Titan himself. No wonder his students looked at it curiosity each time they came in.

  “Sir. May I ask what the score is this week?”

  Niers nodded at one of his students, a Human.

  “This is the fifth game. As it stands, I have won two games and lost four.”

  Silence.

  He understood, he really did. How many people on this continent—no, in the world could beat Niers Astoragon in a game of chess?

  It wasn’t just a small thing like losing a game. Niers had invented chess, mastered it. Between his levels as a [Strategist] and his own long hours of study and passion for it, it was fairly safe to say that Niers could win most games while he was still asleep.

  When the game had first begun to spread, Niers had travelled around, playing people. He had enjoyed many games, but he had only lost twice. And later, after people had come to challen
ge him by the thousands, he had only lost a handful of times after that.

  And never consistently. Until a few weeks ago, Niers had not a single rival on the continent. His best students could win one game out of ten at best. Other [Generals] and [Strategists] could win two games in ten, or three in ten, but that was all.

  And none of them pushed Niers. He had been alone, a lonely king sitting high above the world and watching other people trying to climb the tower he had built. None could approach him. It had been terrible.

  And then—it had just been a whim. A few hundred gold pieces spent to entertain himself. Niers had sent a challenge across the world, a test that would separate the good chess players from the mediocre. He hadn’t expected many responses, but one had come back to him almost instantly.

  Niers smiled as he remembered. A clumsy drawing of a chess board and a curious system of notation that was superior to the one he had come up with. And then—!

  He’d spent hours, days on the puzzle. In between battles he’d struggled to come up with the answer, delighting in the challenge. It had come to him almost too soon, but he’d been obsessed. He’d ordered a chess board made, sparing no expense and paying almost triple for the speed of its construction and delivery.

  The wait had been almost as sweet as the knowledge that there was someone out there with skills rivaling his own in the game. Niers had wondered and speculated who the mysterious puzzle-maker was, worrying that their skill might only be in the creation of puzzles, not the game.

  He’d almost, almost missed the little trick the other player had played. After that first game, he’d been so angry, so frustrated! How could his opponent be so weak at playing the game when they had created such a masterful puzzle? But then the pieces had moved, and he had seen it.

  High above on his tower, the lonely king had looked up and seen the vast fish swimming through the sky. He stood up and saw it swim past him, a beast unimaginably beautiful and mysterious, a thing that defied words. A terrible, wonderful, lonely creature waiting for someone to join it.

  And so the king had leapt from the tower built of his conceit and tried to learn to fly. And he had felt, for the first time in decades, the sense of inferiority, of challenge, that he had lacked.