by Pirateaba
A beak pecks at my fingers and I sigh. A tiny little tongue licks my fingers—Frostwing must have noticed the honey biscuit snack I had for lunch. A real treat I had to share with the bear as well. He’s a surprisingly docile fellow for someone so big. I’m told Mossbears camouflage themselves and attack deer when they get hungry. Or people. I’m just glad it’s possible to tame him with hot, buttery mashed potatoes.
“Okay, okay. You’re hungry and you’re a terrible hunter. Ow! Don’t peck. We’ll get you something to eat. Let’s all just go see Prost, okay? Prost. That way.”
I nudge the bear mentally and with my legs and he ambles left. Frostwing flutters down to land on his back and sits with me as we proceed down the street. The bear. I haven’t come up with a good name for him yet. I’m thinking something German would be nice, but I’m really not inspired. And he’s not exactly fussed—it’s just that having [Lesser Bond: Unnamed Mossbear] in my head is a bit…well, I feel bad for him.
“Emperor Laken, good morning, sire!”
“Prost. What have we here? Hello Durene, we meet again.”
“Laken!”
Durene turns as I approach a cleared space with a lot of wood, nails, and busy people hammering and cutting wood. My half-Troll lover reaches up and strokes the Mossbear’s head. He whuffs at her as Frostwing caws impatiently. Prost edges around both bear and bird as I slide off and coughs nervously. I think he’s afraid of both animals, which is perfectly understandable. I step to one side and investigate the scene with my senses.
“That’s a lot of wood. A lot of nails and screws, too. Do you think you have all the materials you need?”
Prost hesitates. He glances around.
“I think Mister Helm’d be the better man to speak to that, sire, but I see he’s busy. I’m not an expert, but from what he and the other [Carpenters] and [Blacksmiths] say, building this…thing should be easy.”
“Trebuchet, Mister Prost. It’s called a trebuchet.”
“Yes sir. I’ve never heard of it as I said, and the other folk say they haven’t either. Then again, you hear about odd weapons being used in Chandrar and Baleros—do you think we can truly make it, sire?”
I have to hesitate.
“Possibly, Mister Prost. It’s worth a shot at any rate. I uh, can’t read the designs Ryoka gave me, but you told me they look good?”
“Oh, yes sir. It’s a very simple design. It’s just the size of it that’s stumping us, sir. You say these things are meant to hurl blocks of stone hundreds of feet away? I’ve heard of magical catapults that couldn’t do the same!”
“Well, these are siege weapons, Prost. In fact, I’d prefer a catapult, but Ryoka couldn’t remember how uh, torsion siege weapons were made. Trebuchets are a lot easier, according to her. Someone apparently made one out of duct tape once.”
“Duck tape?”
“Never mind. If you think you can make one, I’d love to use it on any attackers. Put it on wheels, maybe make them smaller since we’re not exactly firing at castles here and…well, why not? Just think about it, Prost. Six of these aimed at a group of Goblins and we wouldn’t have to fight a battle.”
“I can’t argue with that, sire. And it’s such a simple thing too. One arm goes up, a heavy block goes on the other end, and it all rests on this uh—”
“Fulcrum.”
“Yes, that. I’m most worried about whether the wood will stand up to all the weight, sire. Our first trial broke the fulcrum thing as you know. However, the lads—and the three ladies—are very excited about it. Miss Tessia’s almost as keen as the boys are to see this thing throw something. And on that note, I learned yesterday that three of our folk have a new class, sir!”
Prost leans over and whispers to me confidentially.
“They’re [Tinkerers], sir. Not [Engineers] like you’d hoped, but I’m told that’s the first step. To have three in one village, well, it’s extraordinary. Begging your pardon of course, I know you’d hoped for more.”
I shake my head, smiling broadly.
“That’s great news, Prost. I didn’t think [Engineers] were that likely, but I’d hoped, that’s all. You see, to gain the [Engineer] class I think the people would need the right tools, more knowledge about how to build things, and perhaps the right mindset. As it is, the [Tinkerer] class will probably become [Engineer] about, oh, I’d say Level 15 or so. So there’s nothing to worry about.”
I can tell Prost is giving me an admiring look. It’s completely undeserved.
“You know so much, Emperor. How did you learn about so many classes?”
I cough. I might have said too much. I hesitate over my reply.
“Someone…told me, Prost. Anyways, these [Tinkerers] have useful Skills?”
“Yes, sire. Tessia learned [Detect Flaw], which is a great help in itself. It’s a Skill that lets her know if we’ve cut something wrong or there’s rot in the wood and so on…I wouldn’t mind her going to all of our houses later on to check on them as well.”
“I think that’s a fine idea. At your discretion, Prost. Now, I know Durene’s helping you lift things, but could you spare her later on? I haven’t had much time to see her after she got back.”
I can sense Prost’s posture shift, and I studiously ignore the small smile on his face.
“Yes, sire. I could let her go right now—”
“No, no. I wouldn’t want to get in the way.”
I cough again, and turn away. An [Emperor]’s dignity. I try not to blush. I turn back to the Mossbear as Prost returns to the construction and sigh. When everyone and their dog knows about your relationship—and worse, now approves of it and actively tries to give you space—it’s nearly as bad as the prejudice.
Seid doch nicht so pervers. At least today I got to see the trebuchet fire. True, the rock went nearly straight up and crushed half of our experimental model. Prost and I concluded that the testing had better be done from far away using a long rope—and everyone should wear helmets just in case. But it’s a start. Hell, more than one. I’m building trebuchets now. Where does it stop?
I guess this kind of technology will help level the field against [Mages]. Our best mage is Wiskeria, and she’s a [Witch]. That’s a concern for later, though. Our new empire is still stronger than it has any right to be. Hopefully all these little tricks—the palisades we keep rebuilding further and further out, the network of totems, my ‘eyes’, and things like the trebuchets will keep us safe, keep my people safe from now on.
And maybe if no one else dies, the nightmares I’ve been having will someday stop.
Day 74
Today I had my first audience. It was spontaneous—I didn’t realize the messenger had arrived until he was riding in on horseback—largely informal, and took place while I was sitting on my throne. The Mossbear. Given those circumstances, I can’t see how it couldn’t have been a success.
“I’m deeply grateful for the gifts, from Trottvisk, Mister Rencil. And I understand the trading caravan gave my people several tokens of their appreciation as well. However, it was our pleasure to help fight the Goblins. They are a common enemy that transcends alliances and feuds.”
“Just as you say your majesty. But we are deeply grateful for your protection. I ah, am instructed to tell you these are only the smallest representations of our esteem. Our town did not know there was such an—an esteemed personage so close by, or we would have sent a delegation earlier, of course.”
The [Messenger] stammers as he tries to control his nervous horse around my bear. I smile and dismount. I think my closed eyes bother the young man on horseback as much as the bear.
“Please, allow me to offer you some refreshments and food. It’s the least I can do.”
“You are too kind si—I mean, your majesty. However, I couldn’t intrude. I’m—I was only instructed to deliver the gifts and report b—I mean, return at full speed.”
He’s stumbling over himself and almost falls over himself as he hands Prost the gifts—some wax can
dles, a bundle of fine cloth, and a bottle of some kind of drink. Probably alcohol. He clearly doesn’t think it’s a fitting gift, but I don’t really care. Mainly, I’m a bit concerned that my reputation as an [Emperor] has spread so far already. Rumor and gossip are one thing, but how—
Ah. Wiskeria and my soldiers must have talked. Drat. Regardless, I smile up at the man and offer him my hand. He fumbles with his glove and his hand is sweaty as it grasps mine.
“I shall await the delegation eagerly. I feel that mutual ties between my empire and Trottvisk would be beneficial for us both. You may know that my army keeps the area around my empire safe from monsters and bandits—I would like to do the same for your towns with their permission.”
“I will tell them that at once, your majesty. I’m sure we could provide you with anything needful—we have lots of goods—for your protection.”
“Uh, that wasn’t what I—”
Too late. The messenger is already promising me whatever Trottvisk can offer if we’ll keep the Goblins from sacking their town. I sigh over it later when he’s gone, but Prost and the others are approving. Protection for tributes. It feels wrong, but Wiskeria puts it into plainer terms for me.
“You have a finite force at your disposal, your Majesty. Fighting battles—even ones where you know the enemy is coming—will cost you time and lives. Why shouldn’t other towns offer you some sort of support for your protection? Going out of your way to keep the roads patrolled is enough of a boon as it is. Normally adventurers have to be paid vast sums to do the same.”
“I suppose you’re right, Wiskeria. And on that note, I hope you can find more recruits soon. We have half a dozen adventurers, around fifty warriors and archers, you, Durene, and…a Mossbear as our standing forces. That’s not exactly reassuring if a larger group of Goblins comes calling.”
My [General] nods calmly. She’s rarely in the village, often dealing with a threat or talking to other villages, but I trust her perhaps most of all my close advisors because she is so competent. She’s taken to her role as well as Prost has.
“Beniar knows some adventurers and I have my own contacts, but I believe we’ll find the most success recruiting old veterans and training new warriors from the villagers. The army might be small now, but it is substantially more powerful than most towns’ militias, in my opinion.”
“True. But we need more gear. If all we have is weapons taken from Goblins…well, let me know if there are any more [Knights] you would like me to dub. I think I could make about ten more.”
Wiskeria shifts as she laces her fingers together and frowns slightly.
“I think it might be best to wait, your majesty. I understand Gamel and the others are leveling quickly and that [Knights] are far superior to [Warriors], but if they are limited—”
“—I should wait for truly promising recruits. I understand.”
I grimace. Making [Knights]. Of course, it’s not without their consent and each person I’ve dubbed has told me how honored they are—Gamel still seems stunned and his girlfriend, Tessia, is over the moon about it—but it still feels wrong. Like I’m forcing them to become something they’re not.
“Emperor Laken?”
“Hm? I’m sorry, Wiskeria. I drifted off there. What were you saying?”
Silently, the [Witch] offers me a cup of the tea she brews and keeps in canteens at her saddlebags. I accept it gratefully—she brews very strong tea which has more caffeine in it than coffee. It also has a very refreshing minty taste.
“I was saying, that appointing [Lords] and [Ladies] might lure in even Gold-rank teams, if you so choose. Their loyalty might be bought, but if you’re concerned, I could ask about trustworthy groups…”
Her tone is cautious. I frown, but not because I’m disagreeing with her. Appointing…? Oh, right. That’s a good idea. But…alas. I sigh.
“Unfortunately, Wiskeria, I don’t have any more such titles to give out, at least not now. I could probably name one or two more [Lords] and [Ladies], but nothing more. I, uh, gave the other titles away to save my village a while ago.”
“I see.”
She’s looking at me with that piercing, inquisitive gaze. And adjusting her spectacles. I keep my face smooth. I trust Wiskeria a lot after it was revealed Odveig was the spy and she was loyal all along, but telling someone about making a bunch of Frost Faeries [Baronesses] and so on is a bit…well, let’s just say that it’s not exactly a ringing endorsement of mental health.
“I’m willing to offer other groups land, or some kind of title, but I’d rather have people who are loyal rather than here for personal gain, Wiskeria.”
“I understand. In that regard I think we’ll be fine either way.”
“Oh? Why’s that?”
Wiskeria counters my raised eyebrow with one of her own. She nods towards the door. I gave Wiskeria one of the first new houses we constructed, but she’s already hinting she’d like a personal home when we finish building the essentials. That’s fair. Her neighbors are already complaining of the smells her witch brews create.
“You just received a messenger from Trottvisk, your majesty. I imagine the other nearby villages and towns will have heard about that and your army, and will be sending their own envoys shortly. I expect at least one village will pledge themselves to you, and there will certainly be at least a handful of older warriors among their number. And that’s besides the gifts you’ll receive.”
I cough on the tea.
“You think so? But we already got tributes—”
She shrugs dismissively.
“Tokens of esteem. Tributes for an [Emperor] would be far more substantial, I imagine. Which is why spreading word of your name and class is important.”
I stare at her. Well, turn my head towards her while keeping my eyes closed. It’s practically the same thing.
“Did you plan all this ahead of time, Wiskeria? Is that why rumors about me keep spreading?”
She only smiles and sips at her tea. Witches. They’re so…mysterious.
Day 76
Goblins attacked a distant village and burnt it to the ground. The people were slaughtered or taken prisoner. I heard about this through a [Message] spell sent to Wiskeria. There was no word on how many Goblins attacked or if there were Hobs, but I told Jelov I needed more markers done now.
There is a limit to how much ‘space’ each marker can cover. We need more to extend our vision past the few towns and villages around my empire. Winning a battle is all about knowing where the enemy is coming with as much advanced notice as possible. If a large force does come here…we have to be able to set traps, lay in ambush. We don’t have the soldiers yet—
But I am leveling up. And if I need to I will fight. Order my villagers to fight, even when their bodies are spent. Even if that means seeing more of the dead faces in my dreams.
Day 77
The delegation arrived on horseback around midmorning, as I was about to visit Jelov the [Carver]. I would have seen them right away, but Prost insisted there was a formality to everything. He had their horses saddled and the visitors given a meal in the newly-built townhouse that also doubles as the main storehouse and kitchen, and I went to visit Jelov in the meantime.
“Your majesty, I’m so happy to see you! Can I offer you a seat? Whoops, there’s a chisel there…and that’s no good—let me just brush off some wood shaving here. Please, please, have a seat!”
I smile and sit as the [Carver] sidles around me, fussing over me. I get him to sit only after a lot of coaxing. But then, it’s probably only natural that Jelov is glad to see me. My usage of the marker totems that define my territory—and thus the limits of my [Emperor]’s sight—have made him an important man in the village, where before he was something of a hermit.
Now he has his own house, respect, and two apprentices. Jelov practically gushes all this out as he sits a bit too close to me, and I recall why I don’t visit him all the time. Spit is good for the skin. I keep telling Durene that.
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br /> “I’m working on more markers as we speak, sire, but my hands ache so. I carve all day, which isn’t to say it’s not worth doing! But I’m afraid you can’t rush art.”
I smile. Art. Each totem Jelov comes out with is subtly different. The symbol at the top is always the same of course—it’s the illuminati eye, known as the Eye of Providence. But Jelov takes liberties carving the rest of the eight-foot totems, sometimes illustrating battles, sometimes carving names or other weird symbols into the wood—I don’t mind, and he clearly feels like uniform totems would be a crime.
“I understand you’re working your hardest Master Jelov. And I’m not here to demand more of you—rather, I wanted to know about a little rumor I’ve been hearing. Something about miniature carved totems popping up around the village with my symbol on it?”
“Ah.”
Jelov gulps audibly. I put my cup to one side and turn my head towards him.
“What’s this about, Jelov?”
“Well—it’s nothing sire. Just a little sideshow, a distraction. A hobby more like. It’s just these—why don’t I show you one? Here?”
He rushes about his workshop and comes back with several objects that are all about the size of my hand. I study them in my mind’s eye. They’re…well, they’re scaled down models of the markers, carved in the same way, polished and rounded down at the edges.
“Miniature markers?”
“Totems, sir. Just like you said. Trinkets, really. It’s just a little thing I’ve been doing for the other folk who live here.”
“Why?”
He sounds surprised.
“Why, because they ask for them sire! Everyone wants one of these in their homes. They think it gives good luck. Or protection! If I wasn’t carving these large markers I’d be making these little ones all day. The demand’s through the roof! Err—not that I take time off to make them, not at all! These are just a bedtime occupation. A bit of carving between the sheets, before I sleep, sire. Honest!”
