by Akella,G.
Bearing the responsibility for tens of thousands of lives was no joke, and I was badly lacking for qualifications. It was only in fairytales that a commoner would win the heart of a princess and the keys to the kingdom, and go on to live and govern happily ever after. I recalled the many books in which some bozo—usually a drunk, a retired marine, a middling manager or a student—ended up in some parallel world and went on to conquer and govern entire empires... Which usually came equipped with their own harems. Damn it, I'm getting distracted again, I thought, remembering Villena's warm lips. Don't get me wrong now, I had enjoyed reading those middle-aged men's fantasies about empires and harems as much as the next teenager, but those fantasies would do me little good now. I should have read non-fiction books about business and management instead, but who could have predicted my current predicament??
So, let's get into the nitty-gritty. Say I was that very sucker who, by a twist of fate, had gone from rags to riches. Sure, I was only a satrap and not exactly a prince, but no matter. I had actually worked as a middle manager in my past life. Now, granted, managing a team of ten responsible for about one million USD in monthly revenue wasn't the same as governing three provinces, but it was something.
The only thing I found reassuring was that this world still largely functioned by the game's laws. Reputation was more than an empty sound, and the game's characters were incapable of treason by default. If you assigned a shrewd local to assist you, he or she would never attempt to undermine you, and their authority would never rise above yours. In followed that, no matter how badly I might want to take Kargal with me, I shouldn't do it under any circumstances. The demon had obviously done a serviceable job as the city's interim ruler, and replacing him just wouldn't be wise. Nor would I touch any units under his immediate command. I didn't give a damn whom to recruit: farmers or professional soldiers. I could whip anyone into fighting shape within days, whereas for the locals the process could drag on for years.
My contemplations were broken by the creaking door. The captain entered the room in the company of two comely demonesses carrying trays of food. The serving girls quickly set the table and withdrew from the room. When the door behind them closed, the captain made an inviting gesture and poured the two of us a glass of rosé.
For a while the room was quiet save for the rattle of utensils on plates, and the periodic sound of glasses being refilled with wine. Having finally had my fill, I dabbed my mouth with a napkin, rummaged for my pipe and lit up.
"You won't find wine this good anywhere but here, dar," the captain said with a dash of sadness, raising his glass and peering at the liquid inside. "There was a time we used to sell quite a few bottles of it in Suonu and Xantarra."
"Then let us toast to resuming the trade in a few months' time," I said with total seriousness, raising my own glass. "It might take a while longer with Suonu, but Xantarra shouldn't present a problem."
"From your mouth—"
"To Hart's ears?" I sniffed. "That's exactly what I wanted to talk to you about."
"I'm listening," taking a sip from his glass, the captain set it back down on the table, and sat at full attention.
"How many sentients are there currently in Gilthor?"
"Hard to say," Kargal shrugged. "I reckon around fifty thousand, not including children. Roughly twenty thousand in Mishtah, and at least another ten in the nearby villages. And I would guess about ten thousand more in both Zellyn and Careolla."
"Those are Gilthor's other two satrapies, right?"
"Right," the captain nodded. "They're not quite as populated, with primarily mining, fishing and hunting towns. Each has a fortress with one hundred soldiers headed up by a regent. I expect both Legg and Knoren to arrive in Mishtah before long. They've been fighting the plague, same as us, so you have to think our collective miraculous rescue had caught their attention. If you're wondering about taxes, I'm not sure they've had the—"
"Taxes are the least of my concerns," I assured him. "I need fighters, four centuries of them. I don't intend to hide away in Gilthor. Satrap Gorm will support me in a campaign on Suonu and Craedia, and I will rid the neighboring province of the undead scourge in a month's time."
"After what you've done for us, my men and I are ready to follow you to the Gray Frontier," Kargal said without hesitation. "In fact, any demon of age in this entire province would deem it an honor to join you, dar."
"I can't take you or your men, captain. We can't leave the province completely undefended. You will remain here as my deputy, and I will recruit volunteers from farmers and regular civilians. Don't worry, I have a way of training them in just a few days' time. That isn't up for debate. Now, tell me this: why is it that there aren't any undead in Gilthor?"
"As you say, dar," the captain nodded grimly. "About the undead, no one has a definite answer. Nearly three hundred years ago several thousand of Ahriman's getare had approached the city, following the refugees that had poured out of Craedia. We hadn't locked our gates, but they never did enter the city. After camping outside the walls for a few days, they just up and left. Three years after that, Satrap Ellrot, the father of Satrap Rumpel who recently perished, led fifteen hundred soldiers—all the able-bodied units he could assemble at the time—to intercept an undead army two thousand strong up at the Granite Gorge. What happened next defied any rational explanation. The stiffs came to a full stop right in the middle of the gorge, as if obstructed by an invisible wall. Come to think of it, the stories make it sound exactly like the force that was blocking my troops from entering the Derelict Temple. Eventually the undead withdrew, and hadn't turned up in Gilthor since. The old-timers say it must have been divine intervention, but I couldn't begin to guess which deity we have to thank for that great service."
"The Derelict Temple isn't quite so derelict anymore," I mused, not at all certain how the locals would react to the news that Death herself would soon reign in the temple. But then the goddess favored me, and that counted for something.
"The temple belongs to Celphata now," I clarified to the captain, then proceeded to exhale smoke through my teeth, bracing myself for his reaction. To my surprise, the news didn't seem to upset him at all. Quite the opposite—upon hearing of the temple's new mistress, Kargal's expression changed to that of a cat who'd just gorged on sour cream, or a compulsive gambler who'd just won a jackpot.
"You were truly born under a lucky star, Dark One, for the Mistress of Oblivion to bestow such an honor on you!" he muttered in total shock.
"You're not bothered by this at all?"
"Why would I be? The goddess of death has only one other temple, in Iskhart. And from what I hear it's not even a temple, but more like a shrine. But now... We won't have to fear dying anymore. The Mistress is greatly revered in these parts, and now that we can go to her with gifts anytime we wish..."
"So we won't have any trouble finding twenty seven young men and women under thirty to serve in the temple?" I asked with a fair bit of relief in my voice.
"I suspect there'll be a line ten times that number to serve the Mistress," Kargal assured me.
"That's not a problem. We'll send all who wish to serve to the temple, and let the head priestess figure out the rest."
That was a huge load off my shoulders. As we were leaving her at the temple, Vaessa had asked me to send her twenty seven people and three horses of different coats. The magus laughed at my frowning face, and assured me that only the animals would be sacrificed. Something about their symbolism. The Ancient Greeks had Charon with his boat on the River Styx, and here supposedly the dead departed to the Gray Frontier or whatever in a three-horse carriage and jingle-bells... I was just guessing about the bells. And when I expressed my doubts about finding volunteers for her, the priestess simply smiled and gave me a kiss goodbye on the cheek.
I put a bit of smoked meat into my mouth and chewed it in contemplation. I'm going to miss Vaessa. Sorely. And not just as a soldier, but personally, I thought with sadness.
"Tom
orrow morning I'll announce the enlistment of fighters and novices," the captain refilled our glasses, and scratched his chin. "I am truly saddened that I cannot come with you, dar."
"Perhaps, but you'll surely have an easier time here than we will out there," I chuckled. "Dar Elnar will oversee recruitment—I'll tell him to come see you tomorrow. Oh, about Lieta and the other children of soldiers lost in the Derelict Temple. I want you to see that they're not wanting for anything. If you need money, just let me know."
"You're a strange governor, dar," Kargal chuckled before finishing his wine. "We've discussed soldiers and novices, and even the children, but you haven't asked a single question about the state of affairs in the province, nor about the size of our coffers. Here," he handed me a brown leather-bound ledger. "Inside you'll find all the figures for this and previous year, as well as what's in the treasury currently. I wouldn't have made heads or tails of it without the young daressa," he sighed. "The satrap made sure his daughter got a good education."
Great, now I was an accountant. A new class in the game, designed especially for me. I opened the ledger, glanced at the tables, and put it away. Accounting was undoubtedly important, critical even, but money wasn't a top priority for me at the moment.
"I have an excuse—I've just become a governor an hour ago," I said. "Just give me the basics: receipts and expenditures, how much is in the treasury currently, and whether we have any iron in there."
"At present the treasury has thirty two thousand seven hundred eighty three coins, dar. Last year's revenue was slightly over twenty six thousand, and expenses amounted to about twenty four thousand. I don't remember the exact figures, but it's all in the ledger. As for iron, no, we don't have any in the treasury. Why would we? Iron isn't mithril. We store iron in storehouses in the industrial district—that's just outside a city, a mile or so from the southern gates. Five years ago Satrap Rumpel had moved many plants outside the city to cut down on the noise. And the smell."
"Makes sense," I nodded, lighting up. "Are there a lot of horses in the satrapy?"
"Enough to accommodate four centuries," Kargal smiled. "Plus, many will come with their own. Oh, and..." the captain frowned and looked away. "You should go see Lieta, dar. She's had it rough of late. Losing her parents, and now with all these changes..."
"I'll do that as soon as we're done here. And since it appears that we're done talking, I just need to finish my pipe," I pointed at the pipe in my hand. "Where do I find Lieta, by the way?"
"On the third floor, in the children's quarters," the captain said. "I'll take you there when you're ready."
Ten minutes later Kargal and I were climbing up to the third floor of the castle.
"She's a really great kid, dar," the captain said, his voice breaking, when we stopped outside carved white doors. "We all love her very much, and—"
"I don't intend on hurting her in any way. In fact, I think that young tiflings should be moved somewhere in the castle together with the children of soldiers that had perished in the temple. The princedom is going to need punishers in the future, so let's start training them now. Think of what you're going to need to make that happen, and report back tomorrow." Upon dismissing the captain, I opened the doors and entered the children's quarters, finding myself in a reception draped with lime-green velvet.
I found Lieta in the next room. The red-haired girl in a plain dress was sitting on a made bed, holding a large rag doll and gazing out the window in contemplation. The knock on the door gave her a start, and she turned to look at me.
Suddenly my mouth was dry, and my breath was stuck in my throat. The young daressa looked so much like my little sister when she was her age that if you put the two of them together, you could only tell them apart by Lieta's little horns and her tail, decorated with a red ribbon. What was happening? Was my consciousness slipping me familiar images, or was I slowly going crazy?
In the meantime, the girl had put her doll aside, climbed off the bed and walked over to me, stopping a few feet away.
"Hi," I greeted the young mistress of the castle in a hoarse voice.
"Greetings, Dark One. Thank you for ridding Gilthor of the plague," the girl spoke in a flat, listless voice. "Are you here to kill me?"
"What?" I frowned, taken aback by her question. "Why would I kill you?"
"I am my father's sole rightful heiress," the girl said in the same listless voice. "This satrapy is mine by birthright. I am in your way, Dark One."
"You were sitting here, waiting for me to come and kill you?" I muttered.
"Yes," she wasn't denying it. "Even if you don't want the satrapy, you have many loyal fighters you could award it to."
"I see," I nodded. "Does that mean you plan on not being loyal to me?"
"What do I have to do with it?" the daressa shrugged. "I am still a child. I haven't distinguished myself before you in any way."
What a mad, mad world. Here was this ten-year-old girl, standing there and waiting for me to kill her. I was the first to break, taking a step forward and whisking her up in my arms. Holding the girl tight, I whispered to her:
"My sweet child, I'm not going to kill you, and I don't intend to take this satrapy from you. Firstly, I don't kill children. And secondly, it wouldn't even make any sense."
The fear on her face gave way to mindful timidity. Once the girl finally believed me that she wasn't in any danger, she broke down and cried.
"Why wouldn't it make sense?" she sobbed.
"Do you think I have so many nobles that I can sacrifice them just like that? Or is Craedia so small that there's not enough land for my soldiers? Have you forgotten that Gilthor has two more provinces which we could build out with towns and castles? And last but not least, how do you think Kargal would manage without you when I leave him here as my deputy?" I smiled, stroking the girl's fiery locks.
"You're strange, even for an elder," she said softly, her voice finally calm. "There's never enough land, and all your reasons aren't worth a damn. It's just that for some reason you can't—or don't want to—kill a child."
"And you're a strange child for asking such questions," I said gently.
"It's how my father raised me," Lieta said. "You can only trust your own kin. Everyone else doesn't care about you, and, if given the chance, would readily trade you for anything that better suits their needs."
"Well, I wasn't raised that way," I grunted. "And I only became an elder less than two weeks ago. So cut me some slack—I need time to mend my ways and slaughter all the kids in the princedom. And gobble them up afterwards," I put the child back on the bed, and gave a sly wink. "And guess who I'm going to gobble up first? A certain red-headed heiress who thinks she's reaaal smart!"
"You're jesting," she smiled through the tears.
"Answer me this, please," I folded my arms over my chest and looked down on Lieta, trying to impart as much warmth and comedy through my words and face as I could muster. "Suppose there's a great celebration happening. Now, where should the city's future governess be? All alone on her bed, crying and hugging her doll?"
"But I thought—"
"Let's not rehash that again," I protested. "Now, daressa, will you do me the honor of accompanying me for an excursion around town?"
"It would be my pleasure, dar," the girl hopped off the bed and did a little curtsy. "Just give me thirty minutes to get ready."
"I'll wait for you in the other room, then," I spun on my heels and made for the antechamber.
"Krian! Did you really give that dreadful Kirym a ride on your black boar?"
"You want a ride, too?"
"Of course! Otherwise I'll hear no end of it, and I—"
"Well, in that case, it's a matter of great political urgency," I gave several quick nods.
"Thank you," squealed the future governess of Mishtah. "I'll be really quick!"
The tiflingess and I rode out of the castle not half an hour later. The girl was in much better spirits, and Gloom seemed utterly delighted, as if perfe
ctly aware of just who he was carrying. It took another half an hour to finally make it to the city gates, as the roads were swarming with revelers. Judging by the demons' reactions seeing her on the razorback before me, Lieta was indeed adored by everyone in the city.
As for Mishtah itself, something incredible was happening! The celebration reminded me of my last Halloween in San Francisco, the main difference being that then all the demons and other monsters were fake, whereas here there weren't any actual humans. The females were attired in tight, seductive outfits, and the males wore colorful tunics with wide flapping sleeves. Most extraordinarily, despite the liberal portions of booze being served on set tables every teen-fifteen feet, I saw zero instances of rowdy or disruptive drunken antics.
Once we were five hundred yards or so out of the city, I popped Gloom's Charge without warning, and we zoomed through the next two hundred yards as the girl shrieked with fear and delight. There weren't any roller-coasters in this world, but I supposed this was the next best thing. After about an hour and a half of this—waiting for the cooldown to reset, then popping Charge as Lieta squealed with delight—the daressa led me back along a route only she knew.
We would turn down tiny alleys and stop by many different tables where we'd greet the revelers and I would drink beer while Lieta chatted with stately demons, both male and female, as they sneaked wary glances in my direction. I soon realized that the girl was trying to bolster my authority among the city's elite... In the world I came from, a ten-year-old child couldn't behave like this by default. At least that had been my experience, though certainly much depended on the child's immediate environment and upbringing. Still, at that moment I couldn't imagine a better ruler for Mishtah.
