Mere moments passed until the archmage made his presence known to Aleko, drawing his attention to the other end of the hall. He returned the greeting, but wrinkled his snout when he heard "rightful place"; nothing felt like it was his, no prestige, no honor, no flying castle, nothing was his. The only few things that were his had been lost in time and, if he had to be honest, he preferred for things to be that way; he learnt that the past can only drag one down and heavily influence their demeanor, thus, he cut off any ties with his home, the same way both families renegaded him. The sheer image of his mother and her last harrowing words were enough to ruin his mood for the rest of the day, feeling one more burden being pinned to his chest among his other military decorations. The commentary about his appearance made the halfling sigh and rub his eyes, expecting for the man to reprimand his rather tired condition. He accepted the breakfast invitation with a simple nod, following his to-be mentor through the halls and into the Dining Hall, where the atmosphere was tangibly lighter than the lonesome throne room. People chattering, tableware clanging together against porcelain plates and cups filled with coffee, tea, ale even, chugged with lust to down the food and wake their minds up; Aleko and the mage reserved a spot, the halfling only wished for some scrambled eggs, some bacon and a bowl of pickles, a small cup of coffee and plenty of napkins. He grew tired of the same stale broth he had to ate most of the days back at his post, and, if it wasn't broth, it had to be goat cheese with melting tomatoes, rock-hard bread, tasteless onions and pig fat that tasted more like pig shit. He gladly accepted his own meal and immediately dug in, savoring the satiating scent and taste of fried bacon with the perfectly made eggs. To mull the overpowering taste, he would rip small chunks of bread freshly pulled out of the oven and let everything melt on his tongue.
He only raised his gaze when the mage fumbled over his words, trying to remember if he had said anything before; if he did, he would have to feel some shame for being inattentive, but in all honesty, he felt as though the man never made point, he only talked to fill the air with words. He nearly forgot how it was to socialize with civilians, them having a constant need to make their presence known by flapping their chins and uttering the stupidest of non-senses. He looked at the man for a few seconds, then, averted his gaze, not really knowing what to say; do I really have to learn to speak again? he asked himself as he looked at the rest of the room, spotting the familiar trio playing a cards game and one of the generals, the undead one. With a glass of wine, which sparked intrigue in Aleko's mind. There was really no issue about talking political or military issues, but to try to say something about himself seemed like an ordeal; he didn't know how honest he had to be, how informative, how curt, he just couldn't think how to put his thoughts into words. Instead, he tried to just let himself go and see what would happen, thus, a smirk popped on the corner of his muzzle as he caught the mage back in his gaze.
"It is outlandish, to say the least. I appreciate your concern, but it isn't something you could understand, I feel, so just leave it that way. I'll get used to it, I suppose." He uttered with half a voice, his eyes falling on the general again.
Feeling too curious about the matter, he excused himself and rose from the table and, to give Cyrus an excuse, he pointed at the table, merely uttering "Pickles" as he went off to the bar; there, he met the man in charge with the dining place, catching his attention with a short whistle. Seeing the man's reaction, Aleko smirked again and informed him of his problem.
"You forgot the pickles."
As soon as the man left, he directed his attention to general Markov Ashadde.
"Good morning, sir." He addressed to him in a formal tone, saluting by anthro military courtesies. "Beg pardon for my intrusion, general, though I couldn't help but notice, well, that." He merely gestured his head towards the glass of wine. It was one thing to pass time with talk, but a completely different matter when it came to knowing your allies, and, potential enemies.
He left the general once he was given an answer, satisfactory or not, and with his much-wanted bowl with pickles. He finished the rest of his breakfast with haste so he could catch a sip of coffee, a drink whose taste he nearly forgot after being dispatched from his office for so long. Cyrus bombarded him with more talk, but this time, it was useful talk, having a chance to offer the man some of his insight for their current, otherwise, dire situation. A situation that was desperate enough to make Aleko form a lot of questions. Some time later, the mage asked for some input about the envoys and generals, a perfect occasion to share some of his own concerns with someone that could listen and, maybe, understand.
"My opinions? Well then, if that is what you wish to know, here are my thoughts: in general, I have no clue what keeps everybody true to this cause and I dread to think how little it would take them to give up their implication. What is it that makes the generals loyal to me, or, this movement rather? Are they truly ready to give away their lives for something as insignificant as a promise? What are the envoys seeing in this New Empire? A chance to grow rich, achieve fame? If you were to tell me they are dedicated to me because they "believe" in me and in this cause, I would call it bullshit, excuse my language.
As for the individuals: Durran and Rougan are both orcs and couldn't lie to save their lives, I can put my trust in their honesty.
Ethel is a cold, cold woman who puts very little effort to hide her want for prestige; what I'm truly worried about is her hunger for power and a woman like her would do about anything to put her hands on what she wishes.
Eamon is the very definition of what the anthro military would call a "chinwagger", to put it politely. Talks a lot, delivers nothing. It will be hard to coax anything important from him, I fear. Ludwyn is very similar to him, only his words seem to be thrown out with spite. Can't say why I have that feeling, other than the fact that he is an elf.
Speaking about military slang, Pepper would be an FSC. "Fucking stupid cun"- you get the idea. No sign of decency or discipline, I am inclined to question her background and her prowess in battle. Where did you find that lot?
Can't say much about Gymor. I only fear that he may be a very conservative diplomat and, with us trying to grow in power, it may be rather difficult.
Korvius, much like Markov, has a certain talent for underhanded practices. Neither can be trusted with too much power in their hands, but, both are useful in their ways.
Marcus is a level-headed individual, he is here to do his duty as best as his abilities allow, something that I am most grateful for. Since he is a human, he will be prone to more emotional situations, I am curious to see his reactions in such cases.
Speaking of humans, Duncan is the general I will put most of my trust on at the moment. I have worked together with human musketeer detachments before in the War of Tulips and I can say with no doubt in my mind that I can trust my life in them. Sound mind, sound tactics, sound logistics. Yes, I served in the closure of the War, commandeered a platoon of Elite Rangers. We scouted mostly, yeah, but we played a role in ending the Usurper's conquest, but about that later.
Bojor dislikes me and I cannot blame him. He's lost good men to find me, but so have the others, so, I blame his attitude on his dwarvish heritage. I've also lost good fighters trying to find the backdoor to Castle Kyrm, but in the end, their death have been justified by winning the war. I intend to justify my generals' men deaths too.
Marteen will do his duty, that doesn't mean he has to like or hate me. Typical elf, I'd might say.
I think that's all of them. If I've missed any, it means I can't think of anything useful to say. Now, I would like to ask two favors from you, master Weaverstar: one, I'd like you to gather the opinions of the envoys and generals about me, just to make sure that this whole "opinion" thing isn't a one-sided affair; two, stop calling me sire, it digs deep claws in my brains. Sir will suffice."
With their meals finished, the time for his "coronation" arrived, Cyrus dragging the halfling to fetch a certain box before entering the throne room and by the time they arrived, it was filled to the brim with members of the floating castle. Everything felt real again, shock coaxing the emperor-to-be's eyes out of their sockets to scan the crowd for any familiar face in it; up until that moment, he tried to push back any feelings of doubt and incredibility, but they were now taking over every aspect of his way of thinking. It was unbelievable how he got so used to being a petty security chief in a town lost in the middle of somewhere; his task had become so mundane that he accepted it as a part of his identity. If he were to be told that he's an emperor back in the days when his active duty was all about strolling deep behind enemy lines, he would have had a hearty laugh and would've sent the wizard off in order to not compromise their position. He needed a break from tedium-land, but was he prepared to take responsibility for another land, only much bigger this time? There was no turning back now, he had occasions and occasions to drop the whole charade many times, yet, he did not feel like giving up on a bunch of people that really believed that he was the much-needed leader of the New Empire movement; or, maybe these people hated change and preferred to live their lives in the same coziness they had before everything changed. He had a neutral standpoint on it, since he really didn't care for one side or the other, he just executed orders in the best way he could and paid no mind for who he was fighting for, since, he was never in the middle of a conspiracy or a disparity to force him to form an opinion about either side of any war. The only thing he believed in was freedom and justice and he delivered exactly those two during his service.
Every step weighed heavier, his boots pulling back at his legs in a frantic attempt to halt his progress towards the throne itself, a seat destined for his furry hind; no matter how amusing he would put the situation in his head, he couldn't get over the fact that his first name will be followed by the ancient "Sendrakon" family name and everyone will take that very seriously. Sure, people joked and mused around about being far descendants of the bloodline, or very distant cousins, but his blood vessels and heart was filled with half Hyde, half Sendrakon blood and that somehow gave him the right to take his late father's seat. Another aspect that seemed completely outlandish was the fact that Asmuel Sendrakon, and none other, was his father, the same Asmuel that lead armies against demons; the very same Asmuel that oppressed his empire from forming a different opinion than his own, which in turn, spawned more rebellions. Nonetheless, that one individual sired him by taking his mother nearly twenty-six years ago, how something like that happened wasn't his concern; what mattered now was to take his legacy as a blessing and as a curse, use it to his advantage to make the best out of the New Empire situation. He knew what he had to do, but he felt that he wasn't ready to assume the giant responsibility; sure, he had all the help around him, but, experience told him that those helpers were also looking to help themselves out.
Cyrus had his own little speech to deliver, to which Aleko only listened with half a ear and less than that much of a brain, he was more concentrated on his own doubts and the faces of the audience peering at him; he made a mental check of himself, trying to discern if he hadn't slouched his shoulders during the talk, but to his relief, he was as stiff as a board, his face having the same expression as a tired brick. He immediately noticed the wizard handling him something from within the box he picked up on the map room; gazing upon it, Aleko indeed felt as though he saw it before and had the immediate urge to fetch and hold it in his hands. His trained mind resisted that instinct and made sure to control his hand as it lifted from his side, sink into the box and wrap its fingers around the handle of the scepter. Once the coldness pierced through the fine fur coating his fingers, he lifted the scepter gingerly, awestruck by the peculiar feeling that convinced him he held the damned thing before in his life; the weight, the texture, the characteristic temperature of the handle, everything felt as natural as feeling the leather-wrapped grip of his longsword lazily hanging at his left hip, or the familiar wooden grip of the service semi-automatic rifle he learnt to love and hate during the hard times of his deployment in South-Eastern Lioncross. He nearly missed the half-of-second when the precious stone embed in the scepter faintly glistened back at him to was his doubts about the familiar feelings. Did it just gave its approval he asked himself as he allowed the top part of the scepter to rest in his free hand, affixing his eyes on the precious stone. He was soon awoken from the trance by the wizard's voice whispering in his furred ear, nearly slapping the old man's nose with it. His eyes darted to the side to spot the old man smiling at him, then, at the crowd waiting for some words, with their hearts open for a warm speech. He gave several speeches before, but they were meant to man up his troops, to inspire them to continue fighting. What to civilians know about fighting? He took one more brief moment to look for some good words, then, lifted his head to confront the crowd.
"Until today, I was but a simple halfling tasked to defend a small region from all annexing attempts, be it the Old Empire, The New Empire and the Inquisition, an Elite Ranger Lieutenant from the Mechanized Infantry Regiment 481st; that was me, executing orders, booting out criers and instigators, fighting off rebellions and repelling small conquest initiatives. Today, I stand in this hall, humbled by the new mission I have been given and the expectations this movement has from me, barely believing that this, otherwise, simple name has been pinned next to my own name; as such, I inherit the crumbled Sendrakon legacy and thus, I must raise banners under this name. A bastard's name.
But that will not put me down. Not the name I've been given, not the ample task, not the expectations. I cannot be put down, for I am no underdog and neither is the New Empire. Yes, we are facing tremendous odds against us, but that has never stopped anyone from achieving greatness and glory, but cowards; akin to that saying in the Royal Human Military, "Always outnumbered, never outmatched", we will play intelligently, with efficiency and outsmart our opponents. For that, we must have patience and wisdom, hang in tight for some tough times, but once we will reach the right moment, we shall rise with an unstoppable force and once again, Sendrakon will be a word that bears a weight and power. A power that you, the people, will give through your effort and dedication, through the sweat, blood and tears that will be shed so that our offspring may live in a peaceful Avalon ripe with resources, a safe Avalon, an Avalon united once more. I wish to leave behind me a single Empire, a single force to keep this land in peace and a name that plants courage and honor in people's hearts. No more criminals, no more power-thirsty curs, no more opportunists. Glory, honor, courage and intelligence!
Avalon! Remember these words, for these are the words that made us whole once upon a time! These same words will bring us back together and wash out the dirt and the soot of war!
Avalon! Remember me when you will sit in your warm homes, eating fat meals and playing with your beautiful children, for I will be the one to set the cornerstone of the New Empire and if time allows it, build upon it until we will have our own marvelous citadel made from dreams come true!
Avalon! Remember us from now on, for we are the ones who wish the best for you more than we wish the best for ourselves!
Avalon! Today, we may be weak, but fear not for tomorrow, for it is then when we will rise!
Avalon! Divided, we fall, but united! United we will prevail!"
It was odd to him to to see people react positively to what he just said, them again, it would have been rather rude for them to keep a straight face through it all. He had done his job and he knew he couldn't do it any better than that, so, he left it like that. The wizard made sure he was the first one to congratulate him, which, felt out of place again.
"Congratulate me, that's droll. What for? Existing? Master Weaverstar, until I do something worth congratulating, you don't have to be so nice to me. You enough emperors during your lifetime, yes, but I am no emperor; I am the luckiest and unluckiest bloke to wear an important name."
It seemed that there was work to be done and, thanks to his late-night efforts, he was ready to meet the first problems with an open mind and a plan. As they went for the Map Room, Scribe made sure to follow Aleko closely, so close that he stepped on the halfling's heel; startled by that, he turned his head around, spotting the small thing gesturing apologies to him. He didn't know exactly what made him adore the unfortunate soul, but, it was enough to guide him by his side and hold his hand at its back. He heard the voices of the generals even before they entered the Map Room, so with that, he prepared himself to meet up with them and present his plan after they would be done with the ceaseless bickering.
Duncan, Bojor, Pepper and Marteen were the ones to remind him of the situation, so, he listened respectfully. In fact he kept his mouth shut until the generals made their points across and once he was sure he had the word, the halfling cleared his throat and started strolling the room back and forth.
"Before I voice my thoughts, I'd first like to present a plan, an initiative if you will. Like general Primelyt pointed, we are still an unknown force, but sooner or later, someone will notice us. General Ironfist has all the right to say that we are in shit, but, we are not that deep. The Old Empire and The Stainless Empire are the major players on the Avalon board, true, but not everything that is left untouched by them is pure scrap. I would call that scrap, treasure, opportunity even. We are late to the party mainly because most of the efforts have been put to find me, rather than growing in strength; well, I'm here, so, let us catch up.
We must first grow in territory, expand our borders quickly. Be it through force, rebellion, instigation, conversion, anything; so long we annex the region, we will be good. I expect by the end of the month to grow, say, two times in size at least if we try our best to fight off any resistance in the surrounding lands and peacefully occupy their garrisons; at all costs, we must avoid plundering and looting as, on the long term, it will not be beneficial. People will bear a grudge, remembering us as thieves and cutthroats. Exercise force, not abuse.
We must form a "buffer zone" between us and at least one of the main competitors. What is a buffer zone? Any expanse of territory between us and the opposing force that acts independently, whose purpose is to keep the enemies at their gates without directly involving us in the fights. In short, yes, vassals. We let them keep autonomy and expand like thorns in the sides of, say, The Old Empire while we concentrate a third of our military efforts in crushing Emberland's bigotry and by the time we'll be finished with him, we will have the Old Empire suppressed from two sides: the buffer zone and our main force. Yes, it is a long-term strategy that we must respect religiously, but I couldn't think of anything better from yesterday until now. I'm open to your inputs and annotations, so long they are rational.
So, until we gain notoriety, we must gain ground and force and keep quiet. A dog that barks loud doesn't bite, so, our mouths will be shut, but, when the time arrives, we will rend and tear anyone who dares to stop us. From there, we will steamroll through opposition. Alright, now, about the situations you mentioned."
Aleko took a few more minutes to think about Duncan's proposition, along with Markov's suggestion before he would speak about it. To him, the answer was quite simple and, honestly, a no-brainer.
"Primelyt, take your forces and lead them to Whealbee, take the city and the port, we need the trade income. It will open us up for more trade opportunities with other regions we will later convince to join under our banner after we've traded goods long enough. As for Treadsheim, general Ashadde will march upon it with a force twice as strong as you think you may need and hold it secure in case there will be any attempt at a recapture. Thus, we will hold this trading conglomerate and keep it safe from enemy attacks. Once you've garrisoned enough men and designated your most trusted officers to lead them, you are to return to Escalyber with full reports."
Leafdancer's situation was much more delicate, unfortunately. For this one, Aleko dismissed the generals for half an hour to think in silence and without having eight pairs of eyes affixed to him. By the time expired, he was still very unsure about what had to be done, but, he had to make the call.
"General Leafdancer, I've made up my mind. Move your forces up AND your reinforcements in such a way that you will either rendezvous at the outskirts of the city, either your main force will garrison in the city and should you be attacked, the reinforcements will be ready to flank. I am very aware that this may cost us, but if those lands will bring us a great amount of resources, I am willing to grab the region quickly, with the least amount of risk. March on and send word to your reinforcing troops to prepare to help you out. If it's truly a trap, you will have your main force AND your reinforcements in the area to fight off the assault and that way, you will only have to hold for one day, instead of an entire week to capture the area and fight enemies off. If it is not a trap, well, you may thank the gods. Best of luck, general, take as many men as you deem necessary and if you feel you need more, I suggest the other generals to lend some of your troops."
As for Bojor situation, just recalling his awestruck expression made Aleko nearly snort in amusement when he saw his plan crumbling apart when Duncan pointed out a major flaw. For that, Aleko had a good strategy of attack.
"General Ironfist, keep your boys safe in Paletower and Coldshire. I will build a flanking force and attack from-" he pointed Coldshire on the map and drew an arrow towards Northspark "- south-east to north. Should the Stainless judge that we moved our forces from Coldshire, they will be in for a nasty surprise, they will. We will set camp close to Northspark and wait for them to move up for another attack on Paletower, we will then strike, take Northspark and outflank the force that will be stuck on the field through my forces that will approach from the captured city and your boys stationed at Paletower. "Hammer and anvil", or, "stuck between a rock and a hard place". We may be able to force them into submission and gain another army, along with a strong front there made up of two impenetrable forts. Speaking about impenetrable...
General Bulkwyn, you ride with me and with your forces, also, I would appreciate a number of men from general Planestalker, especially infiltrators, vanguards and shadow mages. I will personally commandeer a backdoor scouting initiative with the fellow infiltrators and any elite rangers general Bulkwyn has in her army. Before you will try to convince me out of this plan, let me assure you that this was my job back in The War of Tulips. Anyone remember Castle Kyrm?" He turned his head towards the crowd to see for their reaction before smiling.
"So, like I was saying. Bulkwyn and I ride to Northspark, I will have the elite rangers and infiltrators under my command. We stay put so I can lead the scouting party. Once we find the backdoor, and we WILL find it, we wait for them to launch another assault on Paletower; we move in, clear Northspark with minimum casualties, secure it, then move a splinter group to outflank the enemy force stranded in the open. If they assault Paletower before we manage to find the backdoor, we will simply assault the place then concentrate on the disembodied army. Any suggestions?"
Once he was done with the military aspect of his new life, Aleko quickly headed towards the council chamber with his heart feeling much lighter, mostly because he knew he will finally see some direct action on the field. No matter what the was told, he knew in his heart that this was the best approach. Inside the chamber, he was once again remember of his duty, as if, they were trying to handle a half-wit rather than a halfling. Aleko absorbed the refugee problem that was rising, but unlike Marcus and Gymore, he wasn't caught off-guard by Ethel's suggestion; actually, he felt a little amused as he predicted what the woman would do in this kind of situation: be cold, strict, unforgiving and try to show power. Aleko let the voices die before he would speak.
"We keep the refugees. All of them. "Crazy", some may call me in this room, but I am not finished yet. They will stay, so long they earn their spot on our territory. Women will work on farms, at tailors, weapons manufacture, building, men will enlist in our armies and if not, miners, lumberjacks, smiths, we will find work for them too. Children? Boys will start squiring or join the barracks, girls will work with their parents. The elderly will be given simple work too, but not one refugee, or citizen for that matter, will slack. If they work, they get to stay, if not, off with them, we do not need slackers, not when we have the advantage of gaining a tremendous momentum when the two main competitors are too focused on each other to notice us gain enough strength to topple them both, one after another.
Some may consider this to be forced labor and call this intention cruel, but like mistress Shroudmyr pointed out, we will not have the resources to have the refugees nestle in and leech off our backs. I consider this deal to have a win-win outcome: the refugees get to stay safely within our regions, we gain economic and resource growth off the extra workforce, not to mention that our armies will grow and thus, we will be able to expand quicker."
For the most of the time he spoke, his eyes darted from Marcus to Ethel, to Cyrus then back to Ethel, awaiting to see a reaction from the woman. Surely, she won't be pleased, but Aleko predicted that she would rile up and try to prove her authority even more next time, maybe she will even try to get personal with him just to gain some influence over his decisions. He then listened to master Groverunner's suggestion.
"Yes, we will allow them to complete their pilgrimage, may the gods bless them. Our charitable efforts will go long way from now and we will remembered as the Just Empire, we show sympathy and mercy to those in need and willing to work for our cause, but smite those who do not intend to put any effort; we will need those pilgrims, especially with the influx of refugees. Like master Groverunner said, their presence will inspire the common folk and give them motivation to work, the refugees will cherish this moral support even more."
During the small refreshment break, Aleko managed to slurp a sip of coffee and rub his eyes again; so far, his duty didn't wear him off as much as he thought it would, but, this was only the beginning. He knew matters would grow more complex in the future and if he would plant the right seeds in the beginning, when times would get rough he would already be on the right track. Master Frosthand quickly approached the halfling during the break when the rest of the envoys had cleared the chamber and came with a proposal. The idea made Aleko frown heavily, but he didn't fail to see the opportunity in such a messy business; the risks were indeed high, but a transgression like that would indeed leave an imprint in the commonfolk's minds and motivate to work harder. But after such a disaster, there won't be any other pilgrimages.
"You do realize that this plan of yours will only work once, no? Either there will be no other pilgrimages, either the pilgrims will have mercenaries protect them, which in turn, couldn't be really called a pilgrimage, am I not right? Give me more time to think about this. Come down later, let's say, dinner and ask me if I like tomatoes. My answer will be yes or no, depending on what my final decision will be. I appreciate your talent for underhanded practices, but sometimes, the risk outweighs the outcome or, in our case, long term development. We will see, but until dinner, I can not state my opinion."
With that, he dismissed the envoy, feeling the need to rub his eyes again and chug down some more coffee. This was indeed a difficult call to make and on it depended the moral of the folk: give them a strong boost of motivation in the beginning and find a different way to keep up the pace later on or refuse the plot and turn this pilgrimage into a monthly ritual. Aleko finally had a moment to stand up and stretch his legs, walk around and watch the other envoys talk among them. In a way, he would like to participate in more mundane discussions and be admitted in a sort of circle of close acquaintances, but, that would do no good to his image, as many would think that his opinion can be bought with a few laughs, a few drinks and a flirt or two; he had to stay neutral and express authority through his demeanor and pick his friends outside any political party. It all seemed an easy thing if one would put these matters on paper, but everything would catch a very different nuance once people started talking and interacting with each other, opinions and ideas morphing and adapting to other's interpretations and feedback; it would be hard to not fall in all sorts of traps, Aleko knew he had to remain sharpish and weary of those too friendly to him.
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Zamokra41
