"Four thousand, nine hundred and forty eight gold pieces," the young scribe reported, lowering her books. "Another fifteen thousand, eight hundred and one to arrive within a fortnight."
Marcus smiled. "Very good. It seems the nobles were honest about their investment, at least. Their demands?"
"Their sons and daughters will arrive with the second payment for training. All promised to be magically gifted, educated and motivated."
"Make a note to have Vess lead their introductory session. I don't want any obvious spies, though the normal political maneuvering is unavoidable. Hopefully we can sway their loyalties before they graduate."
"Yes, your Grace."
Elly entered as the scribe moved to leave, which meant she'd either been listening in or had fortuitous timing. Marcus honestly didn't know which anymore. In all honesty, he'd probably be spying on his host too, and so far she'd kept it unobtrusive. Hells, she was going to rule soon enough. It was good she was growing more comfortable.
The scribe bowed toward her future Queen and closed the door behind herself, Elly raising an eyebrow. "Something interesting?"
"Not really, just great chests filled with gold. You ready?"
She smiled. "Am I ever. We're going to have to work on the army's mobilization speed, among other things."
"Fourteen thousand soldiers are expensive to muster," Marcus replied dryly. "I'm happy enough we managed, even if it took them weeks to get here. Including your own army we have to house, feed and pay for twenty thousand, and let me tell you, my scribes are starting to get distressed at the sheer size of the financial expenditures I'm authorizing."
Elly shrugged. "War is expensive to win and ruinous to lose. And it took them fifteen days, in which time you did nothing but wait for their Lords and Barons to assemble them. That's another thing that has to change, actually. It can't be a professional army if its officers hold political office."
"Which is why you insisted on assembling peasantry, which, unlike House guards, don't have divided loyalties, and to make it voluntary to boot. That probably didn't help their speed. I know I toasted to survival at all costs two weeks ago, but it turns out money is actually quite important for a kingdom to prosper."
"Don't nag, it's unmanly," she scolded, a grin in her tone. "Now come on. I've had my own people form them up into something resembling a formation. You can only make a first impression once, and we need the army to see you as a Warrior King."
"First off, I'm a man. That means that all my actions are manly by default unless I choose otherwise. Secondly, I'm not a Warrior King. A Mage King at best, though rule and magic don't actually intersect that closely. Not if you don't want to become a ruthless tyrant that rules with absolute power. More so than a monarchy already does, I mean, but the history of centralized power is actually qui-"
"You're stalling," Elly interrupted, raising an eyebrow. "Why? You know soldiers; you've fought and eaten and drilled with them."
Marcus sighed. "I have, but that siege was a few hundred souls on each side. Half a thousand at most. This is forty times that. More, maybe. Any mistake will, by that logic, be forty times more catastrophic."
"And I'll be there to make sure that doesn't happen," Elly soothed. "This is necessary, you said so yourself. The Empire is choking trade—which has never not been a sign of aggression—, it will be a display of power for Duke Hargraf and the Barons, the peasant volunteers are pulled almost entirely from Loyalist lands, the list goes on. It will be fine."
He stood even as he shook his head, briefly annoyed at the length of his hair. He'd have to get it cut soon. "At least we didn't get the knights involved. Paying those would have probably drained us dry."
"Knights are trained already," Elly shrugged. "Useful in war, undoubtedly, and the retinue they bring can bolster any army, but I am capable of basic math. Your father led a prosperous reign, all told, but the treasury isn't that full."
She tapped her armored foot and Marcus started moving, leaving his study behind to enter the Academy. Scribes and students alike bowed, even teachers pausing until he'd passed. It was disconcerting, in short, and it seemed like his plan to alter his reputation was working.
Working, but not how he'd imagined it. He'd wanted them to see him as powerful, yes, and dedicated, but not whatever that was. It had been happening for about a week now, ever since he'd gotten a few students together to teach them enchanting.
It was just one of many plans to use magic to create wealth, teaching some talented mages to enchant and take orders from the nobility, but apparently someone can't demonstrate a minor talent for one of the harder magical disciplines without everyone else going all servile.
He wasn't even doing the hard part. All he really did do was transcribe the resulting notes from his enchanting phase back when he was fifteen. Nothing overly complex, it didn't even hold a candle to the School of Life and its runic network, and his work wasn't even that solid. It worked, certainly, but it wasn't overly refined.
Marcus had been annoyed at the lack of enchanting books back then, and so had decided to just start messing around. Enchanting, as he'd found, was just a word people used when imbuing objects with power. Runes could be used, but so could matrix imprinting, grafting monster parts and probably a whole host of things he'd missed. Hells, arcane fire applied during the forging process was technically enchanting, since it imbued a minor resistance to heat.
He spoke up once they'd left the castle, summoning Xathar as he did. "Accepting the risk of you making fun of me, why is everyone bowing?"
"You're pretty much the King."
"Well, yes," Marcus replied, rolling his eyes. "This feels different. Even Kleph is being more agreeable than normal, to say nothing of those coming from peasant backgrounds. It wasn't a problem ten days ago, and I was still pretty much King back then."
Elly sighed, mounting her own horse and nodding to their escort. Six Royal Guards had joined her Fearless Fourteen, though all kept enough distance they could talk in private. "This happened after your enchanting class, right?"
"Yeah. I know it's a fairly obscure discipline, at least here, but spending an evening using fine-control telekinesis to manipulate a pair of quills and writing down my own knowledge doesn't seem that extreme compared to everything else I can do."
"It's not," she replied, glancing at him. "But setting aside the fact that you can apparently outsource your writing, it's the volume of it. Displaying a talent for enchanting is one thing, almost expected, but you're also a powerful elementalist. One of the Kingdom's premier runic experts, one of its most knowledgeable summoners, capable of bending space to your will, a good fighter, able to hold four matrices, able to graft monsters, able to heal, able to do a host of things I don't know about because you've never had a reason to use it. You can see how that would impress some people, right? Especially because you're willing to teach it to them?"
Marcus shifted on his saddle. "I'm good with runes because I studied the School of Life. Gretched can do spatial magic, Barry is better at summoning than me, I'm not a druid, my healing is passable at best and I'll stop talking now."
"If you're good at something, and nice about being good at something, those that also want to be good at that thing look up to you," Elly said, giving him a shrug. "It's just how it is. You'll get used to it."
"Did you?"
She snorted. "I had to. Me being loved by the army is what kept morale high enough to escape our dying lands."
He didn't have anything to say to that, so Marcus focused on riding. Xathar seemed to relish being the fastest horse, leaving Elly behind in just a moment, and Marcus had to rein the demon in. Xathar complained, demanding something called a Okisth—whatever that was—as an apology. Marcus managed to talk him down to a sugar cube.
They made it to Elly's camp eventually, Marcus not having been there for a while. Last time he'd been stopped by an outer checkpoint, then again when actually entering the camp, and then a third time when entering the high-command section.
This time there was still an outer checkpoint, but with double the soldiers. And wooden barricades, physically stopping anyone with a fast horse from simply racing past. A short tower had been erected, a bow-wielding woman keeping overwatch as they slowed.
Elly didn't even have to say anything before they started removing the barrier, and considering they had a large escort with them, that made sense, but still. This was a serious increase in security.
Marcus found out why when they got to the top of the low hill. Her military outpost had looked big last time, an organized mess of temporary military housing, and it was still there. But it had been joined by seemingly ten times as many tents, sprawling outwards from her own camp in all directions.
It was also mostly empty, Marcus spying what he'd first assumed to be a beige lake some distance away. He vaguely remembered Elly's soldiers clearing the space for parade grounds, a mostly flat plane where large-scale events could be held.
Elly slowed her warhorse next to him, looking it over. She also looked positively embarrassed. "I had them set up camp around my base when they arrived to make use of the bureaucracy there. It got out of hand. By the time my officers had managed to secure a proper channel to the other commander, a Baron Zotor, it was already too late."
"I see," he replied, not really seeing. It was a mess, sure, but roughly the same as the military camp he was familiar with. Apparently it didn't quite meet Elly's standards. "Well, I'm sure you'll straighten them out."
She perked up. "That I will. But first we have to make an appearance, and don't worry, there's no speech, before we talk with the baron about the new chain of command."
"Why would you think I hate speeches? I'm not overly fond of them, mind, but I've had training as an orator. All part of my education when I was younger. My father might have been distant, but he hired good teachers."
A pause, then a shrug. Elly hummed. "I'm not sure, actually. It just seemed right, but apparently not. Either way, no speech unless you feel like giving one."
"I'm good."
She snorted, he called her mean, Xathar decided he was done standing around and got moving again. Marcus had to shift to maintain his balance, pointedly ignoring Elly's amused look.
His mood changed as they got close to the assembly. Noise was first. Twenty thousand men and women breathing and shifting, holding weapons and wearing armor. Horses galloping and officers barking. A wall of sound, blending together to form what people commonly called the 'drums of war'.
The smell came next. The wind blew it towards them even as they traveled, and twenty thousand people living in close proximity had a very particular smell. It was much the same in Redwater itself, though here it was joined by oil and metal.
Finally, the army, and Marcus was glad Xathar could travel perfectly well without his input. He knew how much it cost to feed them, knew how much it cost to pay them, but seeing a full twenty thousand souls assembled in formation was not a sight he'd ever seen before.
Blocks of men, a hundred each, stacked close to one another with officers riding in between. Whole companies of men and women, Elly's people looking the most organized by far. The most well armed and disciplined.
Most of his own troops were newly enlisted peasantry, undergoing basic training while they journeyed here but otherwise green. They stood in formation, he could see that Elly's officers had taken charge over them, but the squares they formed were less exact. The edge of their units less rigid.
His eyes took in more detail as they got closer, their combined guard tightening their formation until Elly was riding close enough to touch. Xathar took the opportunity to insult her horse, which the animal cared very little about, and then Marcus was dismounting. Walking up a small, seemingly man-made hill and turned to get a full view of their - his, army.
Keeping one's expression neutral when surprised or shocked was a central skill for all politicians, Marcus knew that. Never had he appreciated the fact that he was trained in that particular skill more than now. Twenty thousand pairs of eyes looked at him, varying between uncaring, bored and greedy, and him gaping like a fish would have made a very poor first impression indeed.
Had Elly really meant for him to stand here and say nothing? With forty thousand eyes on him? He probably should have asked for a detailed description about their schedule today, actually. Not doing so had been a mistake.
She stepped up next to him, eyes roving over the crowd like she was their inspection officer. Marcus heaved an internal sigh, spinning up a voice enhancing matrix. It was good that a few moments of silence was perfectly acceptable when giving a speech—his old instructors said it projected a sense of control—but it also gave him time to silently panic. Elly looked at him, understanding passing through her eyes the second before he spoke.
"My name is Marcus Sepsimus Lannoy," he began, voice rolling over the crowd. The sheer volume ensured everyone that hadn't quieted down yet did so quickly, not that there were many to begin with. "I welcome you all to the ranks of the Mirranian Royal Army. Some of you might say there is no Mirranian Royal Army. Two weeks ago you would have been correct."
He paused, looking them over, before speaking again. "Now there is one. Princess Elenoir and her veterans have graciously offered to assist us in its creation, and you will repay that kindness by learning from their experience. Redwater is working overtime to supply you with arms, armor and all the other tools of war, and so I expect each of you to take advantage of this opportunity and train as your life depends on it. Some day soon it very well might."
He stepped back, deciding to stop while he still sounded coherent. A bit more depressing than intended, but these people didn't need a short-lived rush of confidence. If their Prince telling them theirs was a dangerous occupation discouraged them, then there was no point in training them to begin with.
The fact the various Loyalist Lords and Barons supplied arms and armor to the troops helped significantly with supply, though. It was a fairly obvious play, 'gifting' the Prince's new military initiative their own surplus material, but it was a solid one.
Elly said a few words herself, mostly emphasizing that her own people would fill in for officer positions until such a time as Mirranian souls held enough experience to take over. She was good at it, too. Spines straightened, ambition appeared in a number of faces, angry scowls softened.
He had no doubt she would do a fine job, though he was equally sure her officers hated his scribes just about now. Learning a new language was never easy, nevermind when it had to be done in a manner of months.
The whole thing was far outside his area of expertise, which made it rather fortuitous that Elly was here. The Empire was going to invade, sooner rather than later, and he would be ready. The Kingdom would be ready.
Not to win, not against them, but to endure. To hold favorable negotiations and ensure his people were treated well as part of the Empire's new province.
Such a depressing thought. Maybe he would find some way to avoid it, but reality had to be faced. The Empire could field ten times the men they had and do it twice over if needed. If they wanted his Kingdom, they could take it by force of numbers alone.
But he was going to make them pay for every step of the way, and when all was said and done the Empire always needed more skilled mages for the dungeon.
REPLACE WITH LINE BREAK p^o^q REPLACE WITH LINE BREAK
Marcus reined in Xathar as they crossed under Redwater's gate, the sun already starting to set on the horizon. The business with the army had taken the remainder of the afternoon before bleeding into evening, mostly consisting of him confirming that Elly was in fact in charge, so now he had to half hurry her back to the city.
The Redwater festival was about to start, and he wasn't going to pass up the opportunity to impress her.
He frowned, thankful she was behind him at the moment. Since when do I want to impress her?
Marcus got more time to think about it than he really wished, seeing as Elly was delayed near the gates by someone who looked suspiciously like Gorman the Court Mage. Not a long delay, about thirty seconds, but a delay. Thirty seconds where he got to question his rapidly growing fondness for his betrothed.
He'd been fond of people before, of course he had, but that had taken time. Time or extraordinary circumstances. Neither had happened with Elly, and yet here he was.
Elly moved closer, an annoyed scowl on her face. "Your Court Mage is getting on my nerves. He just tried to use the eradication of my homeland to justify that mages should be tightly controlled, playing on past trauma. I dislike the man."
"He's a bastard," Marcus agreed easily, Xathar starting to move again. "It also shows he's getting desperate, which means he has something to fear from my Academy. Try to ignore him, for now. If he gets too annoying to endure, let me know."
She snorted. "I can endure him easily enough, but that doesn't make it fun. Speaking of the Academy, some of my war mages came to me with a proposal a few hours ago. It seems they want to expand on your sparring club, teaching them how to survive and thrive in war. Which I told them is impossible, only experience can do that, but they seem set on the idea. They apparently wish to impress you."
"Me?" Marcus asked, raising an eyebrow. "I won't decline the help, Gods know my students could use their instruction, but I haven't done much to earn that level of gratitude."
"You have done enough, it seems. I've approved it either way. Volunteers only, because my war mages spar hard and train harder. I believe they want to show their usefulness so they can work their way towards joining the classes."
Marcus barked out a laugh. "They can join tomorrow. I didn't mention it because I didn't want to look like I was taking your mages away, but I want them. And frankly, they could use some time studying books instead of running martial drills."
"Considering you just handed me fifteen thousand raw recruits, and are allowing me to train them without oversight or limit, I would feel like a bitch complaining about doing the same with not even a hundred men," Elly replied dryly. "We should run joint drills, by the way. With your mages and the army, I mean. Even if they don't fight, mages are always useful as healers, elementalists and scouts."
"A fine plan, but we have talked about business enough. The festival is tonight, and we shouldn't be late. Besides the fact that I'm supposed to start the whole thing, I don't want you to miss it."
Elly looked at the normal, if somewhat deserted, streets. She raised an eyebrow. "I have seen quite enough of the ocean, thank you, but by the way you're looking at me I don't feel like I have much of a choice."
"Even if you weren't the Princess, and thus required to be there, I'd want you to see it," Marcus replied, a grin tugging at his lips. "I have a feeling you'll enjoy it. Now come on, we need to change and get to the docks."
She followed with clear reluctance, perking up when he mentioned there was no dress-code, and before long they had entered the castle, changed, joined the ceremonial honor guard and left again. The Fearless Fourteen were part of said honor guard, as they usually were, and he spent an entertaining few minutes poking at the logic of their name.
He stopped when Elly's hand twitched to her side, never quite gripping her sword but clearly wanting to. Not to attack him, he knew better, but as a way to endure annoyance. To soothe herself and remind her of her own power.
Dammit Vess, get out of my head and stop being good at giving advice.
Marcus smiled as she shot him yet another glare, a hint of a grin on her own face. It wasn't like she didn't make fun of him, directly or indirectly, and he had a feeling she enjoyed being around someone who didn't worship the ground she walked on.
Being known as the savior of her people, he imagined, could be rather tiring.
They ventured deeper into the docks, warehouses starting to dominate the streets. Repurposed, most of them, since business over the open sea was non-existent, but they did trade within the bay itself. More common, however, was their use for the collection and processing of sea monstrosities.
They didn't just build and maintain their navy to ensure fishing. That would be inefficient. No. The beasts they killed, often alone and entering through the bay's relatively small entrance, were collected. Butchered for meat, materials and more. It was one of their larger exports to the Empire, in fact, alongside ore and grain.
But every few months, approximately three or four times a year, the tide turned just right. Turned so that the accumulated blood and gore of slain beasts flowed further inland rather than out to sea, all that had sunk to the bottom of the bay—and had not yet been scavenged—drifting up to join it. It wouldn't last long, and soon enough the water would be clear, but it lasted long enough to be a spectacle.
Elly gasped, actually gasped, as they rounded the corner and could finally see the port. The water was a deep red, strangely beautiful for being dyed by blood, and a thousand lanterns had been hung up to reflect the glow.
Marcus smiled widely, having taken her through the city on a route that forbade any view of the bay. The water turned slowly, which in itself was a sight, but nothing quite beat seeing the waters fully dyed. She turned to him, eyes deeply satisfied. "Are those…?"
"The blood of hundreds of monstrosities," he confirmed, his smile turning a little smug. "I told you you'd want to see it."
A cheer rang up from the gathered populace, tens of thousands of people crowding near the docks, as an enormous tentacle gently washed against the shore. It wasn't worth anything, not in its half rotten state, and it would begin to stink soon enough, but it was physical proof. Proof that they'd killed a beast of terror, that mere humans with sticks and boats had killed something which terrorized the sea.
Even centuries after the monstrosities had arrived, no one had quite forgotten. They hadn't forgotten the hundreds of ships lost at sea, the collapse of the economy as continental trade vanished.
Elly walked a little closer as Marcus moved to his prepared stage to give a speech, one he'd actually given quite a few times before, and looking at her under the red light reflected by over a thousand lanterns he found her as enchanting as magic ever was.