The council chamber felt smaller than usual, crowded with too many people carrying too much weight.
Leon sat at the long table, King Alderon at its head, Lord Casimir to his right. The kingdom's senior advisors filled the remaining seats - Master Aldwin the treasurer, Captain Vorin of the Royal Army, High Magister representing the mage corps, and several noble lords whose territories would bear the brunt of taxation and recruitment.
On the table between them sat a leather bag. Simple, unassuming. Inside were the Free Cities' loan terms.
No one wanted to open it.
"We've reviewed the numbers three times," Master Aldwin said, his voice hollow. "Run every calculation, explored every alternative. The conclusion remains unchanged - we cannot fund the necessary preparations without external capital."
"The kingdom's coffers are depleted," one of the noble lords added. "We've already tripled taxes. Requisitioned supplies to the point of causing hardship. Pressed the nobles and merchants until they're on the edge of rebellion. There's nothing left to squeeze."
"Except our future," another lord said bitterly, gesturing at the bag.
Leon had read the terms yesterday. Had gone over them with the precision of an engineer analyzing structural loads, looking for any margin of safety, any room for negotiation.
There was none.
The Free Cities were offering substantial capital - enough to purchase critical supplies, hire experienced mercenaries from neutral territories, acquire magical equipment Aldoria couldn't produce domestically. Enough, possibly, to make the difference between catastrophic failure and barely holding the line.
The interest rate was ruinous. Thirty-five percent compounding annually, with repayment beginning a month after the gate crisis "concluded" - the euphemistic phrasing suggesting the Confederation of Free Cities expected either Aldoria's victory or complete destruction, with no middle ground.
If they survived the Horizon Gate, the kingdom would be financially enslaved for three generations. Every surplus copper, every tax coin, every bit of economic growth would go toward servicing debt until Leon's grandchildren- if he lived to have any - were old and gray.
If they didn't survive, the Free Cities wrote off the loss and preserved their military strength for their own defense.
Win-win for the Confederation. A desperate gamble for Aldoria.
"We could refuse," Lord Casimir said, though his tone suggested he already knew it was a losing argument. "Continue with what we have. The Solmaran forces will arrive in five weeks. Combined with our own army and Arch-mage Leon's formations -"
"It won't be enough," Captain Vorin interrupted. "High Arch-mage, show the projections."
Leon pulled out a set of charts he'd prepared. Numbers and calculations that had kept him awake for two nights running.
"Based on Solmara's commitment," Leon began, pointing to the first chart, "we'll have approximately forty thousand soldiers and eight hundred combat mages at the Horizon Gate when it opens. With the formations for optimizing effectiveness, that force can defend roughly six miles of front line."
He moved to the next chart. The one that made everyone's faces go pale.
"The gate currently spans nineteen miles and will likely reach twenty before opening. To maintain defensive coverage across that distance, we need - conservatively - one hundred and twenty thousand soldiers and two thousand mages."
The silence was absolute.
"We're short eighty thousand soldiers," Lord Casimir said quietly. "And twelve hundred mages."
"The Free Cities' loans would allow us to hire mercenary companies," Leon continued. "There are experienced fighters throughout the continent - soldiers who fought in regional conflicts, mercenaries who'll fight for anyone paying enough. We can't raise an army of eighty thousand, but we could hire perhaps twenty thousand additional troops. Maybe three hundred more mages."
"Still not enough," Aldwin said.
"No," Leon agreed. "But closer. Enough that with optimal positioning, we might hold the initial surge."
"Might ," one of the noble lords repeated.
Leon met his eyes. "Yes, might. We still don't know what we will face"
More silence. The kind that felt like standing at the edge of an abyss.
"The loans also provide capital for supplies," Leon continued, pushing forward. "Healing potions in bulk, which will losses significantly. "
He looked around the table.
"Without the loans, we field what we have and hope it's enough. With the loans, we field a force that has a chance of holding long enough the initial creature surge to subside."
King Alderon had been silent throughout the discussion, listening, absorbing. Now he spoke.
"Master Aldwin, if we accept these terms and survive the gate, what does Aldoria's future look like?"
Aldwin consulted his ledgers with shaking hands. "Austere, Your Majesty. Extremely austere. We'd need to maintain high taxation levels for decades. Cut expenditures to bare minimum - no new construction, no investments in infrastructure, no expansion of services. Every surplus coin goes to debt repayment."
"And if we default?"
"The terms include provisions for asset seizure. Territories, trade rights, natural resources - the Free Cities would essentially own portions of Aldoria until the debt is satisfied."
"So we become a vassal state in all but name," one of the lords said bitterly.
"We become a living vassal state," Casimir corrected. "Which is preferable to being corpses."
"Is it?" the lord shot back. "Enslaving our children and grandchildren to foreign powers? Mortgaging our kingdom's future for a chance - not even a guarantee, just a chance - at survival?"
"Yes," the Sword Saint said.
Everyone turned to look at her. She'd been standing in her usual position near the king, silent as always.
"Dead kingdoms make no choices," she said, her voice carrying absolute certainty. "Enslaved kingdoms can someday free themselves."
The silence that followed was different. Heavier, but less despairing.
King Alderon stood. "We vote. All in favor of accepting the Free Cities' loan terms?"
Hands rose around the table. Slowly, reluctantly, but they rose. Leon's among them.
All in favor. Unanimous, in the way desperate choices often are.
"Master Aldwin, send word to Consul Varro," the king said. "Aldoria accepts the Confederation's terms. We'll sign the contracts and receive the capital as soon as arrangements can be made."
"Yes, Your Majesty."
"Lord Casimir, begin immediately on procurement. I want mercenary companies hired, supplies purchased, equipment acquired. Spare no expense - we're borrowing our future, we might as well use it effectively."
"Yes, Your Majesty."
"High Archmage Leon." The king turned to him. "How long until the Solmaran forces arrive?"
Leon did the math quickly. "Mage Kaelis's message should reach the Empire within days if it hasn't already. They estimated six weeks to mobilize and depart, then two weeks ocean crossing. Total of eight weeks from when we parted." He paused. "They've been gone three weeks already. Five more weeks until the Imperial army arrives."
"Five weeks," the king repeated. "And how long until the gate opens?"
"Nine to ten weeks, Your Majesty."
"So we'll have four or five weeks with the Solmaran forces before the gate opens." The king looked at the maps on the wall, that long black line stretching across the eastern horizon. "Not much time for integration and training."
"It'll have to be enough," Leon said.
The king nodded. "Then we have work to do. Everything depends on it."
The council filed out. Leon remained, staring at the leather folder containing the signed agreement that had just mortgaged Aldoria's future.
Leon looked at his hands. Stained with chalk from drawing formations, cramped from endless writing and calculation. The hands of a fraud who'd somehow become responsible for saving the world.
We took the loans, he thought. Mortgaged our future for a chance at having a future at all. Now I have to make sure that chance becomes reality.
He gathered the loan documents and headed toward the training yards.
Three days later, Consul Varro returned to Rallegard with a delegation of merchants, bankers, and accountants. The signing ceremony was formal, witnessed by both kingdoms' representatives, sealed with official stamps and magical verification to prevent alteration.
Leon attended but didn't participate directly. He watched as King Alderon signed away portions of Aldoria's sovereignty in exchange for crates of gold, letters of credit, and trading agreements that would funnel resources toward the war effort.
Consul Varro was professionally pleasant throughout, treating it as a standard business transaction. Which, for the Free Cities, it was.
"The Confederation wishes Aldoria victory in the coming conflict," Varro said as she prepared to depart. "We look forward to a long and prosperous relationship."
Prosperous for you, Leon thought but didn't say.
The gold arrived within days. Master Aldwin immediately began converting it to useful resources - contracts with mercenaries, bulk purchases of potions and equipment, arrangements with craftsmen to produce what Aldoria couldn't manufacture quickly enough.
Leon threw himself into training preparations. With the loan capital, they could afford better training equipment.
The kingdom transformed further. Every available space became a training ground. Every blacksmith, alchemist, and enchanter worked around the clock. The docks filled with ships bringing purchased supplies from across the continent.
Money couldn't buy time, but it could buy efficiency. And efficiency was what they desperately needed.
Four weeks until Solmara arrived.
Nine weeks until the gate opened.
He worked through exhaustion, through doubt, through the constant fear that someone would realize he was a fraud.
But no one did. Everyone still believed. Still looked to him for guidance, for innovation, for the impossible solutions that had become expected.
So Leon gave them what they needed, even while knowing it might not be enough.
Because what other choice was there?