Here's a bonus chapter, courtesy of my headaches and me hitting post button on Royal Road instead of schedule. Enjoy!
“While Knights are mostly loyal to you, the army is a different story,” Silas said, his lips bent in a thin, apologetic smile. “You are not at fault there. It’s the late marshal’s efforts that are now working against us. Within one month, the Paladin died, the new Paladin arrived, the marshal’s son died, the new Paladin died, the newest Paladin was sighted in several places, the newest Paladin arrived just in time to fight alongside our men. And the death of the marshal at the hands of his wife last night shattered morale.”
“They know the enemy is coming while their legendary commander is gone. That alone is enough to shake their faith in their leadership.” Stephan looked at Silas. “And that’s not the worst of it, is it?”
“No, it isn’t. The army has discipline, the best of the best drilled them for years or decades. The citizenry, however,” Silas exhaled heavily, “is panicking. Some of the most devout have already arrived at the temples to seek counsel. Someone is spreading the news, claiming the Paladin has taken up leadership. They are also saying you’re not the Paladin who died, but a third, who appeared amongst the recruits as a sign of divine favor. But people will figure it out eventually. And, despite all the trouble this may seem like, it’s still not the worst of it.”
Stephan raised his hand, telling Silas not to speak.
Merchants won’t present much bigger problems than regular citizens. Lord Marshal said they might even help, stockpiling goods and food, selling at high prices, but military law allows us to requisition anything from any citizen, so they need to keep their merchandise at least partially affordable.
The thoughts of wealth naturally shifted his attention towards the next group.
“The nobles.”
“Indeed,” the Priest nodded approvingly. “The noble houses present the biggest issue. I would suggest exiling them from the city, but each family has private troops we will need, fielding them on the walls while hoping they won’t betray us.”
Stephan grit his teeth, feeling the lingering bitterness of kaaf again.
“Surely, they can’t be that foolish?”
Silas looked at him. “Sir, you must understand their goals and yours don’t align. While you prioritize the whole of humanity, they view themselves first and foremost. If their house can get out of any given situation stronger while mankind survives, they will follow their own agenda. Why should they sacrifice valuable men to fight for others’ benefit? Her Majesty certainly wouldn’t choose to wed them or theirs. Even if she did, they would decline because everyone would be after their heads the moment the decision became public. The winning move for them is inaction, Sir, not defending what is right or denying someone who is evil.”
Stephan locked his gaze on Silas.
“How can you stand those petty, greedy people?” he asked, fists shaking from anger. “Why do people like that lead instead of the best and most competent?”
Silas gazed at him calmly. “Do you want me to answer that, Sir?”
As a matter of fact, Stephan didn’t expect there was an answer. He nodded curtly.
“Yes, please.”
Silas folded his wrinkled hands in his lap and looked at them before looking back at Stephan and speaking.
“Well, to answer the first question. As a Priest of Hope, I hope they grow better. Or that their heirs become better. Or that, should they turn too wicked, the King would incarcerate or execute them. Your second question is much more complex. There are multiple factors as to why middling, violent, and sociopathic men and women drift towards the surface, the least of them being that competent, moral people have more important things to do than going about commanding others unless the situation turns dire. This includes the Paladin.
Silas gave Stephan a sympathetic smile. “The life of the Paladin is that of a man running around, putting out fires, while children with flint and steel play in barns. Even Priests may grow corrupt. If one preaches the whole day, warning of fiends and damnation, while asking for donations and doing nothing else, that means they aren’t healing and educating. They are reinforcing their own social position at the expense of the flock they are meant to guide and protect.”
Stephan stared in shock, but the old man didn’t avert his eyes.
“Yes, there are Priests like that. Gods make mistakes, or there simply isn’t a better option at a given location. Do you know what the difference is between Healers and Priests?” Silas asked.
“Healers can only cast healing spells?”
Silas sighed. “At least call them blessings, but yes, that is the most obvious distinction. Healers are also more specialized in medicine, triage, and diagnostics without magic…”
Lord Silas started explaining. Stephan listened with interest before something at the back of his mind pricked him.
“With all due respect,” he interrupted the Priest. “While I find the discussion fascinating, we are drifting away from the purpose of our meeting.”
Lord Silas frowned slightly before recalling why they were in the marshal’s study.
“Pardon me, Sir. Teaching is a passion of mine. We were discussing the noble houses. Blessedly few have their seats in Cliffort. Some of the outsiders will leave, and they are the easiest to handle. These nobles will join our enemy, but murdering them before they declare the change is impossible, as they have done nothing wrong. Some will bring their entire households to Cliffort. These you can tentatively view as allies—”
“I’m not willing to hold their heirs hostage, Lord Silas.” Stephan had spent a week learning from the Strategist. While they lacked the time to study the advanced topics, they had covered the basics.
“They are not hostages, Sir,” Silas corrected. “You are relocating them to the keep, under heavy guard, for their own safety, as they are the essential members of their families. It’s an important distinction of the same kind as why you can’t execute obvious traitors before they betray you.”
It all sounded convoluted and needlessly complicated. Why would he have to consider the thoughts of those who planned to betray him? Why not challenge them to duels to the death and be done with it?
“But, while a constant source of headache, these families also don’t pose a threat. The problem is the third category.”
“Neither here nor there,” Stephan muttered.
“Yes, Sir. The fence-sitters come in two kinds. One is the traitors, and if not for the other sort, the correct answer would be to just banish them from the city, but the others will fight loyally. They will split a part of the family on one side, a part on the other, and fight. Once the conflict ends, regardless of who wins, they will ask for clemency on behalf of the other, misguided half of the family.”
The more the discussion dragged on, the more tired Stephan grew. By the end, his head was spinning, not because the situation was difficult—it wasn’t. Not because he feared an aggressive approach, and the previous night had numbed him to death.
No, what frustrated him were the false morals, the fake loyalties, and the self-interest that ruled humans whose house was on fire, and until a burning beam hit them, they would pretend everything was fine. Worse, they argued about the price of water needed to halt the inferno.
Unless Lord Marshal was wrong about the fiends invading.
“One more thing, Lord Silas,” Stephan said as the old Priest rose from his seat. “Lord Marshal told me fiends have overwhelmed the capital, and he was certain they would invade. Where did his confidence come from with our communications severed? Queen Eleanor mentioned dragons, not fiends.”
“We received the news through light-towers before the troops manning them notified us they would join larger garrisons for safety. I don’t know how they knew about the Paladin’s demise or about fiends in the city, but based on Her Majesty’s tale, I would assume three dragons and seven archfiends attacked Sir Danso.”
Stephan nodded. The light-tower network failing would have catastrophic consequences for mankind once bandits and nightmares started roaming the land unchecked.
He sighed. “Thank you, Lord Silas. I’ll have a talk with Queen Eleanor and see what she wants. Have a good day.”
Stephan could have walked down the stairs with the old Priest, but they had already been together too long. Not in a sense that much time had passed, but they had held a lengthy conversation without a single piece of favorable news during its entire course.
He rolled his shoulders, feeling the blasted weight again. It no longer felt like a mantle of honor. He stood beneath a cracking beam, attempting to hold as long as possible.
It’s not like I’m going to see the Queen to chat about how good Cliffort’s cornbread is. It tastes just like Lacy’s.
Stephan drove away those thoughts. Lord Silas had disappeared from his spy-mirror, and it was time to discuss whatever the next disaster was with the Queen.
I wonder whether this was the late Marshal Harrington’s life, or did he have some days with good news?
As Stephan descended the tower, he couldn’t help but think how much the late Lord Marshal had been cursing the silly, childish Paladin going around the countryside, drawing the attention of every unsavory element in the world to heal mildly ill or barely injured people.