Disclaimer: I don't own DBZ but it would be a lot cooler if I did...
AN: I'll admit I'm working on my B storylines. Other authors do it so successfully. It's not something I'm great at just yet but practice makes perfect. Enjoy everyone and be sure to leave me some feedback. I don't bite.
Lord Harkon dined in his manor at Vegos this evening with Lord Atreus. They wore simple semi-formal clothes meant for relaxing in their manors. An ornate candelabra stood at the center of the grand oak table. Several plates of fantastic smelling dishes were before them. Roasted duck in wine sauce was the current course.
The food was served by beautiful women, as Harkon preferred. However they merely waited behind them with drinks and plates of food as the lords ate at a proper table this night. They were still dressed proactively as their lord preferred, showing a little cleavage on each of their bosoms. It would have been considered scandalous in another other family, however Harkon did not care. He was the head of his house now, so he did what he damn well pleased.
The dining room was surrounded by grand paintings of the former battles of House Harkon. Of course their ancient founder, Feyd I, had one. This particular painting showed a young red haired man holding the head of his enemy up before his tribe, clad in golden armor. As legend had it he was a former gladiator who united his own tribe in Saiya after the fall of the Tiberian Empire.
Looking back at the past wistfully annoyed Harkon but he knew that such things were important. He knew exactly why his family commissioned such things. It is to be reminded of where they had come from. Also it served to pass on the knowledge to the future generations.
They gathered here as every noble had, to celebrate the birth of the new prince such as it was. Or at least that's what everyone said they were doing. This gathering of nobles was an excellent opportunity to do more than that. Just as the money lenders and the brothel keepers this many nobles in one place was good for business. Their meal was interrupted by a knock at the door. It was practically a full blown festival out in the capital lately; it went on much longer than formal night at the castle.
"Enter," Harkon called out to whoever was there.
In walked a figure cloaked in darkness. He stopped a respectful distance in front of the pair and kneeled. In the light they could make out some details of the man's clothing. All seemed to have been dyed black or darkened to aid in his secrecy down to his armor and boots.
"I'm sorry my dears, give us a little privacy," Harkon ordered. The women left quickly and quietly without protest.
"Well?" Harkon inquired.
"I apologize my lord. I have failed," the man informed him with his head still bowed.
Harkon a bit angrily ordered, "Rise."
The man stood and removed his cowl. His face not obscured, was only slightly lined with age. His dark hair was beginning to turn grey. He wore a neutral look on his face. The gaze of a killer shone in his dark eyes.
"I thought you Disciples of Erebus always got your target?" Atreus chided in his seat. "It seems your legend is a bit exaggerated."
"Well what happened?" Harkon asked his tone serious despite his bored façade.
The man clenched his fist slightly and with a controlled tone reported, "His companions got in my way at the last moment."
"Surely, you can handle a few novices," Atreus commented as he drank.
"Normally I'd agree with you, but that woman..." the man trailed off.
"What woman?" Harkon asked with a raised brow.
"Adrestia Blacksteel, her skills are far beyond what I anticipated," The man admitted as he grit his teeth.
Atreus was shocked and said "Really?"
"Believe no one was more surprised than me," The man admitted honestly.
The lords were quiet for a moment. This was unexpected to both of them. They had gone through the trouble of sending a veteran assassin of taking care of things. They had no doubts the prince's little squad had some experience. However no one could have predicted this.
If he was being honest with himself Harkon fully expected the tales of Adrestia to be exaggerated. Tales of heroes often are. They made giants of ordinary men. Some were simply lucky enough to strike the final blow, or just be at the right place at the right time. Yet the peasants and ignorant lords often called it divine blessings or some other such nonsense as if it was fated to be so.
"Did anyone see your face?" Harkon asked the man.
"No, my mask concealed my identity the whole time," the man informed them.
"Well at least there is that," Atreus commented.
"Very well, you may go for now, but be prepared to answer our call again," Harkon commanded.
"As you wish," The man told him, and then departed.
"Don't worry, there will be plenty more opportunities," Harkon commented. He clapped his hands and the servants returned.
"Indeed," Atreus agreed.
So long as the prince remained away from court, their power base could only grow. The nobles liked stability. An absentee prince hardly created such. What it did create people's mind was a blank canvas. Something which with the right paint, they could create whatever they wanted out of it.
Harkon could only grin at the thought. He understood the prince's motivation to leave court. It was honestly trying just to be there at times. Harkon almost felt sorry for the man. In pursuing his own goals, the prince left them with plenty of opportunity.
"I'll have to get in touch with a few eastern contacts," Harkon mentioned with a sly grin, "The prince won't be so lucky next time."
"What shall we do in the meantime?" Atreus asked with cautious optimism.
"Rally others to our cause. There is more discontent in the kingdom than first appears. More houses than just ours have been wronged by the royal family," Harkon pointed out.
"True enough and the celebration of the new prince just so happened to be great timing," Atreus agreed with a slight grin.
0-0-0
Zarbon stepped off his boat. His boots squished beneath his feet as he made landfall. The waves rushed in around him, slightly wetting his uniform. His sword clung to his belt, still sheathed as it was not a combat landing. The shoreline was fairly barren with a simple sandy beach to land on with a small village of a few hundred in the distance.
He could see the advance team already at work on the shoreline. Hundreds of soldiers dotted the shore preparing for their brothers to land. Tents were going up and barriers were being erected. Their commander was an old veteran experienced in such matters. Zarbon had complete faith in him.
This was the kind of landing he wanted. He was able to land his forces without drawing attention to themselves. Had they made their way to a larger port in Old Tiberia they would have been discovered. In addition this place was only a short march from the Old Imperial Road.
It sure felt good to be off the ship. He and his men had been on it for weeks now. It felt exceedingly good to be on terra firma again. He stretched his muscles as he walked away from the waves. Ships could be so cramped and crowded.
He gazed around to see hundreds of smaller vessels ferry his men to from the larger naval vessels in deeper water. Things were going smoothly. He'd have to commend the admiral later on. This was exactly where they planned to make landfall.
A moderately dressed old man approached him. He had saggy leather skin and dark hair. His aura had the faint scent of fish and salt. He was a local that was sure. However Zarbon had no idea why he came.
"General Zarbon," The old man said with a bow. "I am headman of the humble village nearby, my name is Marco."
"Yes what of it?" Zarbon inquired a little annoyed this man was even here.
"It's just that…" the old man stammered. "We were not exactly…expecting…your arrival."
Zarbon rolled his eyes and pointed out, "That is the point of a surprise landing."
"I suppose it is," the old man conceded. "Why are you here General?"
Zarbon eyed the man. He looked calm on the outside. However as he locked eyes onto the man he could only avert his gaze. Lucky for him, the emperor did not send him to conquer little fishing villages.
"I don't need to tell you," Zarbon answered simply. "Worry not though; we are just using this area as a staging ground. The army will march further inland once we have organized ourselves.
"Very good my lord," the old man said with another bow. "Please feel free to come to village for some refreshment before you continue your campaign. We are a small village but we offer what we can."
"Very well," Zarbon agreed.
The old fool could hardly have stopped them had he chosen to take all the women and valuable had they desired. It would surely not be the first time such a thing has happened. Armies on the march were known for doing so and worse. Little villages like the one nearby were lucky to survive when serious wars broke out.
They were practically doing him a favor. By using this as a staging for his operation, money and goods would pour into his little village practically overnight. His soldiers would need many things and could afford to pay in good silver for them. Or if he so chose he could also take them with swords.
A messenger appeared before him. His uniform was slightly dirty and blew slightly in the breeze. He was from the advanced party. They had scouted out the area already no doubt. Still he needed progress reports from all commanders.
"Report Sir!" the messenger said with a salute.
Zarbon nodded his head in acknowledgement and replied, "Go ahead."
"Centurion Cui has located the Old Imperial Road," the man informed him. "He has also located a suitable spot nearby for the main army camp."
"As I expected," Zarbon remarked. "Tell the Centurion continue with his preparations. We need to prepare to unload all the provisions and created a supply line before we set off."
"Yes my lord," The messenger acknowledged and rode off.
Zarbon looked wistfully at the few houses in the distance. He wondered what kind of accommodations he could find there. Probably nothing as good as the bedding he brought with him. Still perhaps he could find a woman or two to keep him company. He did love exotic beauties after all.
He looked back to see, men, horses, and weapons being unloaded efficiently. This was one of the reasons he loved the empire. It was exceedingly efficient. The rest of the world may have forgotten but they had the best soldiers in the world in the empire. He looked forward to reminding the savages that there was a reason the entire world belonged to Tiber at one point or another.
Zarbon wanted to get this campaign underway. The quicker he claimed a victory. The more his star would rise back home. Perhaps he could finally be the general who brought back all the lost provinces.
Many had dreamed such a thing and few had even made modest gains. None however had been able to take back the old heartland of Tiberia. All this changed under his master. For the first time in hundreds of years the Empire was united. Their power was unchallenged at home, which meant that they had the very real possibility of reuniting with the all the former provinces.
This campaign would just be a stepping stone. If Zarbon played his hands right he would lead it all. He could even become Frieza's heir should he prove himself on the battlefield. Nothing was impossible in victory. Any soldier worth his salt knew that.
0-0-0
Turles walked into the Army Headquarters. It was filled with other captains and high ranking officers of both the mercenary groups and regular soldiers of Narbo. They were all chatting amongst themselves in Tiberian. None of them paid any attention to him.
To his men he was important. To the army as a whole he made up one small part of the huge forces assembled here. He took an empty chair in the corner and waited. The chatter died down as an older lord appeared in an immaculate red and black tabard. In the center was his personal crest rather than the city one. A large golden elephant roared on it.
Turles recognized him immediately. He had never actually spoken to him outside of a handful of times. However there was no mistaking that crest. It was Lord Barco, Supreme Commander of their assembled forces.
"Good morning men, I am sure you are all wondering why I called you here. Especially since we are waging a successful siege of the city already," He told them.
Turles wondered that himself. While he had no idea of the naval situation, his own sector was secure. The Pearl Gate by the seal he guarded had not had so much a grain of wheat go inside. It seemed only a matter of time before they ran out of food.
"I am here to tell you that our spies report that a relief army is on its way here," Barco told them.
"Impossible!" One officer shouted in disbelief.
"Where is such a force coming from?" Another officer asked. "Another city? Or could it be Occidena?"
Barco held up his hand to silence them, and then went on, "We don't know who they are just yet. But we do know they numbers are large enough to force us to abandon the siege. So we will have to launch an assault on Martea itself before it arrives."
The men were silent at the last part. Turles swore he could hear the crickets outside, it was so quiet. He knew what they were thinking. Attacking the city now carried a great risk. Even with their numbers dwindled by their loss on the battlefield, the Marteans could hold off any assault with less men given the size and scope of the city walls.
"I understand your hesitation but this is the only way," He told them all. "The fate of two cities will be decided on this battle men make no mistake about it. If we do not take those walls our siege will be broken anyway."
The men grumbled amongst themselves now. Like Turles most of them had been coasting with the siege. Some had even brought their wives and mistresses out from Narbo. Now they were going to have to go back to active combat and fight a fierce battle.
Turles was not looking forward to this. Climbing the walls during a siege was one of the most dangerous jobs an army could get. They always made mercenaries do it as well. Mercenaries like him were considered to be expendable.
"We shall take tomorrow to prepare all our ground forces," Barco ordered them. "One the following morning we attack."
0-0-0
It was Vegeta's turn to cook. It was a skill admittedly he wasn't very good at. He could cook simply things. Mostly he could make sure that the meat he cooked would not make him sick. However cooking for others simply wasn't in his retinue let alone making it taste good.
Tonight he roasted three chickens for his squad. It was simply enough. He bought them at the market, plucked them, and cleaned them. He a spit big enough to fit three of them just like his survival training had taught him. He had low fire of mostly coals going so they would cook evenly.
Over his shoulder Adrestia was inspected his work. He hated being watched. But she insisted. Something about no longer being able to tolerate the "bland" food he cooked on his turn. She was determined for him to get it right.
"That's good now," She complimented as she handed him a jar and a ladle. "Now cover them with this."
"What is it?" Vegeta asked.
"It's an oil they make here out of olives, baste the chicken in it as you cook them and they taste really yummy," Adrestia told him with a smile.
"Who cares about yummy?" Vegeta teased.
"We all care!" Adrestia shouted and smacked him on the head. "We would all prefer edible food when it's your turn to cook."
"My food is edible," Vegeta protested with a huff.
"Hardly, consider yourself my kitchen slave until you learn to do things properly," Adrestia claimed as she stomped her foot denoting no argument.
"I didn't know you were into that," Vegeta mocked lecherously. "It might be fun to play along, mistress."
Adrestia's cheeks turned red and she hit him again shouting, "That's not what I meant and you know it!"
Vegeta felt embarrassed as he heard the laughs erupt around him. He did not like making a scene. However it was fun to tease Adrestia. It reminded him of old times with Captain Bardock.
He did as Adrestia told him. He noted it was more than just oil that he applied. There appeared to be spices in the mixture too. He sniffed the bottle and the sweet aroma of herbs and spices filled him.
"What else is in here?" He asked her.
"A few spices, the local one called rosemary. You've had it before," She mentioned as she looked up to remember what else was in there. "There is also a foreign one I wanted to try called powdered chili. It's the red one in there. There is also a red pepper that I've never seen before in there."
"You found these at the market?" Vegeta inquired as he noted the pleasant scent the meat gave off as he added it.
"Yes," Adrestia told him. "We should consider having our traders import some when we go home."
"My, my isn't this cozy?" A male voice interrupted them.
They turned to see Captain Turles behind them. The rest of Vegeta's squad was behind him pretending not to ease drop. However Vegeta knew they all had listened in. He would ignore it for now. The captain had a serious look on his face.
"Much as it pains me to interrupt your domestic bliss, I have some news," Turles informed them.
It must have been important then. Though Captain Turles did hang around their squad more these days, for official communication he often used messengers. Something must have occurred at the officer's meeting he had just attended. Vegeta could not guess as to what though.
"Is there anything your beautiful companion can't do?" Turles commented with a smile.
"She can't take criticism apparently," Vegeta joked with a devilish tone.
Turles laughed, "I suppose not but she's not the only one."
"What happened?" Adrestia queried ignoring their ribbing.
"We're preparing to assault the walls in two days," Turles recounted to them.
"Why now? We've been sitting here for so long." Vegeta wondered.
"Apparently some relief army is showing up so now the siege is on a time table," Turles told them.
"Alright finally some action," Vegeta commented then turned the chickens.
"I wouldn't be so joyful, this isn't going to be a picnic," Turles cautioned. "Assaulting fortified walls are one the most dangerous things you can do in a war."
"I'm not scared," Vegeta boasted as Adrestia sighed.
"Say that to me if you make it through tomorrow," Turles said and shrugged. "Even Baligant was scared when he had to rush up the ramparts."
Vegeta could only stand there with his mouth agape. Turles knew poetry. How could this be? He wondered. Even educated nobles might not have referenced the epic poem of the farmer turned soldier this well.
"How could you know that?" Adrestia asked for him.
"You nobles always think you are the only one who go to plays or read. Well you aren't. Even someone who spends most of his time away from Saiya like me knows a thing or two about Saiyan poetry," Turles shared with them. "If I must ease your doubts then listen to this:
I fear rushing up the ramparts,
I fear arrows raining down upon me from the heavens,
I fear clashing with the men upon the other side,
But most of all I fear looking once more upon my own reflection and seeing a beast of battle staring back at me instead of a man."
"You surprise me yet again," Vegeta admitted.
"Eh it's just a few flowery lines, though a little poetry goes a long way with women," Turles reminded him.
"You don't say," Vegeta noted with a sly look.
"Not all women," Adrestia remarked as she crossed her arms.
"It's a numbers game, some you win, some you lose," Turles commented and shrugged. "Now cook that chicken it smells good. You can play with your wifey later."