by P. S. Power
Tor started walking toward the cells, Timon coming with him, both at a brisk pace that forced Gerent to jog a bit to keep up. It wasn't about pushing the man, but getting a little distance from the others that stood there.
"I can't promise that. I don't control what King Richard does for instance, and it may be that he insists on it. Probably not though. What I can do is make sure that these men and women have guards that will protect them if it comes to it. Someone to see to their comforts, that they get fed and have clean clothing at need. That any injuries of note are treated, and that if there's a problem is willing to see to fixing it. Hence you stepping in. For all I know it might mean going toe to toe with Smythe or even Kolb. If so, you can't back down. They won't kill you for preventing injustice, but they might yell at you or something if they don't like your plans." He gave his new brother a sidelong glance, noticing that there was more nervousness than metal in his frame at the moment.
The man was still walking though. Directly toward the makeshift prison.
"I... suppose. I don't know that I'm the best one for the job though. Petra or Conserina Derring might be better. They're more suited to the task, I think. These prisoners are fighters. What if they try to escape?"
There was a cough from behind him, one that came from Petra, rather than any of the soldiers that were following her. There were ten of them. The tall, very cute fighter made a gesture with her head, tossing it to the side to indicate them.
"I think that these elite soldiers might have something to say about that, if they try." She didn't hesitate to address the one in front, who was the oldest of the lot, looking to be nearly thirty, if Tor could judge such things. "What are your orders?"
He was tall too, clearly a noble by birth. About seven feet, which meant he had a deep and rumbly voice. It was intimidating without the man even trying to be.
"We're here to act as guards and perform all tasks that the Warden requires of us, without harm to the prisoners, even if they become aggressive. General Thorgas gave the word himself." There was a sour and disbelieving look at Gerent, but he didn't let it show in his voice, even if the man was clearly offended at the idea of being left in the power of a peasant.
That was clear at least. He thought that all the short people on the field were beneath him, and not just physically. Even Sara, who he clearly felt attracted to.
Tor cleared his throat.
"Good. Countier Lairdgren will take that duty. In his absence the girls that have it now will be in charge. If there are any problems Gerent, take them directly to Smythe of Westend, since you'll answer to him directly in this." Looking up at the tall fellow in the lead Tor locked eyes for a bit, being glared at in return. "Take note of that. In this situation Gerent Lairdgren outranks you and is working directly for the head of the military. More to the point, if anything happens to any prisoner in your charge here, I'll hear about it and see that anyone that has done anything wrong will be punished to the full extent of the law, and King's censure." The man stiffened, and a few of the others were angry at the words, so Tor relented a bit, suddenly smiling. "Not that any of you would be a problem, but the standards here are high. What you do today and in the coming weeks will set the tone for this war, in a way. The eyes of the entire kingdom will be looking to you. How those vanquished are treated by our side might very well make all the difference later."
It was, of course, all sweet sounding gibberish. No one would ever really know what they did in this place, most likely, and if they did, it would be lies, almost certainly. The military flyers all stood a bit straighter then anyway, and the only problem seemed to be coming from the rather upset large fellow. He didn't voice it however, and there wasn't a lot that Tor could say to change his mind.
At the door he let them all in, and feeling awkward about it or not, all the men formed two lines, the biggest man in the front. He gestured for Gerent to join him and stood very straight, speaking with his base voice. It was clear he didn't know which of the young women he was supposed to be addressing, but it was Harper who stood again, seeming pretty intimidated. She looked at Tor though and then let her gaze linger on Gerent.
The giant bowed to her.
"Ma'am... I'm Countier Third, Jose Peterson, Major in the Royal Army, currently attached to the Elite Flyers Corps. This man next to me is Warden Lairdgren. Countier Lairdgren, currently serving under the auspice of Lord Counselor William Smythe." Then he waited, clearly expecting some kind of a response from the girl. She was in a uniform after all, after a fashion, still in her green and yellow Songbird outfit.
She rounded the table and bowed, first to Gerent and then the man in front of the lines of large black clothed men, most of whom didn't look at her at all.
"You have the duty. Shall I go over who we have here and what procedures we've put in place?"
It seemed to be going well to Tor, so he winked and stepped back a bit, figuring that the rest would work itself out. They didn't really need him there to do their jobs, he didn't think.
That meant he was able to get off to his place, along with Petra, Sara and Timon. The whole trip didn't take that long, but it did take a complex set of changes to the house to get into the room with the gold in it. It wasn't a key as much as a pattern that tried to change when you made a door, but with only a pretty deep trance state and about five minutes work he managed it. Collette had really mastered the use of the magical dwelling it seemed, since he hadn't even known that was possible to do with it, and he'd made the field himself.
Tim didn't seem impressed, but he didn't comment either. Not on that.
"Down this hall then." Pointing the way he touched the wall, making the ceiling glow brightly.
Tor almost expected that the room would be empty, or hold only a few chests of gold for some reason, but when the copper colored door at the end was opened it was a very different sight indeed. The place was filled with boxes and cloth bags and it was huge. For a few seconds he was almost unbelieving of how much wealth was in the space and wondered if it was also where they kept the dry goods stores for the kitchens. It wasn't though. It was all gold and silver.
His gold and silver.
No wonder everyone hated him so much. This really was a good part of the kingdoms wealth, enough to feed the land for at least a year, he guessed. Here, held captive by him, instead of in the cupboards of hard working people, ready to see them through winter and hard times. Only a jerk, or monster, would do that, since it was crippling the land.
"Ah, Collette did mention there was some coin in here. Sara, would you help me load a chest? I want to hire a few people from the city, on a temporary basis. That and pay for the food the troops will need. That way the economy of the city won't be harmed as much." After fishing at his neck for a moment he got a floating chest out and had to reshape it so that it would fit in the hallway, but still hold enough. It looked long and skinny, but the box itself would be able to carry a few tons at least. Maybe more. He'd never tried overloading one, but so far he'd never heard any complaints.
They tossed in bags of clanking coins, not bothering to try and keep track of what was there. It was poor funds management, but also an emergency, so he had to be willing to sacrifice a bit and all that.
Tim was being far more careful in what he was putting in the middling size velvet bag on the other side of the room, but stopped to call something out to him.
"I pay Glaren a silver per basket. That might be different for you, since, you know, she's using your food, but you'll want to have wine and all that, so it's best to replace it. If nothing else she can pocket the difference, since you don't pay her enough. Loyal though. To Collette, I mean. Won't leave even for twice the salary. I know, since I asked." The clanking resumed then and Tor smiled up at him as Sara moved in to help load the chest up, getting what was being done.
Tor scoffed a bit, but good naturedly so.
"Seriously? Trying to steal my friends away with bribes? That has to be against the rules of polite behavior
. I haven't heard that, but if it's not there it should be." He winked at Petra who gave him a decently somber nod in return.
"That's true Tim. Very rude actually. Especially since Glaren is working in a place where the word 'servant' didn't even come up in regards to her. Friend. Word gets out that Tor refers to his people that way and he'll have everyone wanting to work for him. Except..." She stopped and looked away, then closed her eyes, as if trying to hide from him.
It wasn't hard to pick up the rest. Not at all.
"Except for the ones that think I'm some kind of pushy and overbearing monster? Well, today won't help that, will it?" It was his turn to stop, but he just stared at the back wall, trying not to think about it. There wasn't time for him to break over what he'd done.
Sara, though he loved her, was a bit clueless about the day's events it seemed, so she actually asked what he meant, in an offhand fashion.
Petra sighed and seemed a bit sad about the whole thing at least.
"Tor killed about ten percent of the attackers out there today. By himself. The only people that did more were Kolb and Tiera. Worse, that only worked because of Tor's magic. People will get that. Sure, here in the city most will think it's a good thing, but the amount of death out there was... extreme. Most battles have losses of about ten percent. I've read of complete massacres where almost seventy percent survived the carnage. I didn't get a good count out there of the bodies-"
"Seven thousand, nine hundred and fifty-six, at least of those visible as we flew over. There are thirty-one prisoners inside the cells." Tim sounded relaxed about it and turned, using both hands to hold the black sack of coin.
Then he started to help get the funny looking long trunk closed so they could leave.
"We should see to Glaren next. I'll do that. Like I said, Twenty-Three baskets?" The young eyes searched Tor's, absorbing every detail of his movements and expression. It was a lot more information that he'd thought he was giving off, but he didn't let the surprise show as he read him.
"Twenty Counts and Countesses going back I think. No, twenty-one. The rest already left, which probably means they were at least warned. They might not all be guilty."
"Ah. Alright, so the Wards got a warning and headed out, they aren't really traitors, and... I can't think of who the other one would be. I must have missed something. That's too bad. It means that one of them will have access to healing amulets. I managed to change the order so that the guilty traitors wouldn't. Let the virus weaken them before we have to fight." There was a cold wave that came off of him, but even as he glared a bit at Tor, clearly expecting him to say something about it, Petra started to nod.
"It's hard, but a good plan. I can't like that thousands or more will die because of what we did, but it makes sense, as far as warfare goes."
It did. Tor didn't deny that. Not at all.
"Of course the mothers and milk maids that die, the little children, the old people that couldn't swing a sword, or even a force lance at us, they don't really count, do they?" Sticking out his tongue to show he was thinking and not trying to be mean he changed that a bit after a few seconds. "I mean, yes, they count, I know you two both agree with that, but in battle calculations they don't that much. It's sad. At least a fighter knows what they're signing up for. This Gray Plague is just going to suffocate them in their sleep and it's because of what we're doing. Failing to help them when it's within our power."
There was silence in the room and for the whole two minutes it took him to lock back up, putting things in the same order that Collette had them before. It showed just how complicated her mind really was. Like a labyrinth. It wasn't until they were most of the way to the kitchen that Petra challenged what he'd just said.
"We? Timon and I made the decision, and he's just a kid, if smarter than the rest of us put together. I'm pretty sure all of the blame for it will fall on me."
Tor stopped, the chest behind him adjusting a little, floating away from him slightly as he turned. He had the amulet around his neck and it followed along with that pretty closely. Exactingly so really.
"Yes, we. I'm the one letting it stand, even after you told me. I agree. It makes sense. It's also evil and hurtful. The King might order us to undo it, even if it means a greater war over all. I doubt that though. He should. I should. But... I can't blame you. It really will make the whole thing easier and we have a responsibility to our side as well. Every soldier that dies in the night, coughing his lungs out, is one less potential casualty for us. I don't know how many we lost today, but it was too many."
Timon had that number too.
"Twelve fighters, most of them from the Flyers Corps, two from Lairdgren. Not any of your friends, though Tiera knew at least one of them in passing. Not a fighter or a messenger, that's all I could tell from the conversation as I listened in. Smythe was talking about eight hundred dead in the city, that number keeps growing though. I expect it will end up being around two thousand in a few days. The damaged buildings were targeted to be holding people on purpose I think. Those bombs took out a lot of busy areas. We should do something to help rebuild. Clean up and all that. I can kick in a little. I don't have your kind of coin though."
It was too much to even listen to, so Tor walked to the kitchen and called out, trying to be friendly about it. No one would be expecting him after all. The scene inside was a lot different than he thought it would be. All the household staff was sitting in chairs around the table, except a few making tea and some kind of cookies, from the smell of it. There was a hint of orange to the whole thing, which was unique, given the time of year.
"Hello! We've come to see if some baskets could be made up? For some long flights later today." Tor waited for a bit and then shrugged, not caring if it made sense. He was getting tired, and didn't really think anyone would notice overly. Except they all did, focusing on him intently and trying to read his body language instantly. Then everyone shot to their feet, as if it was a big deal for him to walk to the kitchen door or something? "Also meals for the prisoners we took. Only thirty- one of those, plus ten jailers and the warders, there are three of those. Those won't need baskets though, I'll get some floating chests for it. Good food though, please. I know that it's easy to think of those we took as villains, and they are. But we don't mistreat anyone in our care, right?" Everyone was staring at him as if he was being dense or something, but the feelings were just raw nerves and a bit of guilt.
That portion of things was weird, because most of the men felt they should have been out protecting everyone themselves, and the women thought they should be doing more to help. Which of course, they should.
"So, Glaren, I hear you get a silver for the good baskets? We need twenty, the first ten inside an hour. The others will need food soon too, so, until we have a real system set up, will you all help? There are people from the city that can be hired right now, since they won't be able to work for a few days. Uh... here. Get Collette to give you more if you need it." It took a bit of searching for the right bags, middling large ones that, when he peeked in, had enough silver in the mix for buying needed things.
A man, who was thin and about thirty, or maybe an old looking mid-twenties looked at him and seemed a bit put off inside. It wasn't a clear thing, though there was a tiny thread of greed to it, as well as a stern resolve not to slip any of it into his own pocket, since that would be stealing. He wasn't the only one thinking things like that either, but no one really planned to rob him.
No, they didn't think they could get away with it, on top of their own morality. He was pretty tempted to get another bag for them all to share, but held his hand. They had to earn it. That was the rule, wasn't it? Even if he needed to have the funds being spent as fast as possible, before all of Noram was reduced to one wealthy man that didn't care if he had coins at all most days, and the hungry poor.
No one had ever warned him about that when he was the poor student, had they? The idea that one person could have that much wealth, but that it was a horribl
e thing for everyone else... It was a newish thought for him. One he had to actually start dealing with soon however. Doing it the right way was the key though.
"This is a lot of work, in a short time. You don't have to help with it, but anyone that does will get a nice bonus." The faces of the maids and men who seemed to be employed by him, given their uniforms, which were all black with nice, very crisp looking white shirts underneath, seemed suddenly happy enough, though it was forced in some cases. People didn't know what to make of that offer of a bonus.
Tor left it that way and waited for Glaren to respond, which made her purse her mouth, a move that made her pretty face look a bit funny. She was a bit older, but looked younger than her years and was still a notable beauty. Collette's mother. So, in a very real way, the boss of him. At least inside the house.
"At once. Everyone, we need to work together here, we have a time schedule. We'll have to play a bit fast and loose with the first meal for those at the Prison. Tobias, take notes. No wine for the jailers? I don't know about the Wardens... Dignitaries, if I have that right..."
Timon helped out then winking at the women in a way that had to be meant as mildly flirtatious.
"Fruit juice all the way around I think. Perhaps some wine for after the shift, but Gerent is the Chief Warden there. He doesn't drink much most of the time and I don't think he'll want his men doing that either. The other two are school girls. I don't know if they're staying or not."
Tor didn't either, so didn't add anything. Better they have a bit too much, rather than not enough. Plus, some of the prisoners were women. That being the case, someone female should be there to look out for them. Probably someone older and able to stand up to soldiers. He drew a blank though, so let it go as Glaren made plans to get the food delivered in a timely fashion. Leaving for a few moments, he got a small box filled with amulets for them, including the last of his magical chests. He looked to have five left. They were proving to be one of the more useful things he'd come up with, when it all came right down to it.
