Part 3 – The Belly of the Beast
"Everything is more than it seems, but nothing is as mysterious as it appears to be."
-Dean Koontz (Tick Tock)
Freedonia was coming into her own as a kingdom. Her wealth and consequential influence could no longer be discounted and, since the annexation of the territory of Advorton some time ago, it had become clear that militarily she had become a force to be reckoned with.
No one could now mock her guards for being lazy or incompetent, and you could hardly walk down any given road without coming across at least one blue and white uniform with its underlying armor (most often Advortonian Scale), or even the generically handsome knight captain himself, Steven Westmoreland.
Freedonia was known at this time primarily for her security. Territory leaders often met for conferences in Freedonia because they had assurance that they would be well protected. In addition to her military might, Freedonia also remained stubbornly neutral in the Tredony-Aarbyville conflict, to such a degree that she entertained soldiers from both sides when they were on leave, her guardsmen ensuring that either the Tredony Consortium and Aarbyville Pirates never met, or at least never escalated their violence above bar brawling.
This last was accomplished as much by threats as guard presence. Freedonia was well known for having a Pit, into which war criminals and annoying town criers were often thrown. In fact, both Tredony and Aarbyville sent their prisoners to Freedonia to be executed, knowing that any escape or rescue attempts would be thwarted by the knight and his guards, who took their jobs quite seriously these days. Gone were the days of guards being found drinking in the tavern during their work-shift. Bandits were an extinct species in Freedonia, both along the village path and in the forest.
What Freedonia was not known for was her educational system or healthcare. She had no physician, and it turned out that the recently constructed water mill was no substitute. The knowledge of her people could most politely be described as 'limited.' Despite the attempts of her surprisingly scholarly and beloved ruler, Lord Spaulding, almost none of the citizens ever bothered to read a book or do research of any kind.
Neither the kingdom's new merchant nor her new blacksmith seemed to have the foggiest idea as to how to do their jobs. Like most significant postings in Freedonia, these two had been hired practically out of the blue, the merchant because she liked the ocean -despite a peculiar animosity towards whales- and that seemed useful for someone who was going to spend a lot of time on boats traveling from place to place for trading, and the blacksmith because he could wield a pickaxe reasonably effectively and seemed generally excited about the job.
Despite her not inconsiderable wealth, Freedonia's monarch was ever looking for ways to cut costs, as well as ways to increase the kingdom's monetary gains from any and all endeavors.
Consequently, Lord Spaulding decided to call a meeting which consisted of himself, Royal Adviser Greta, Build Master Krispin and Captain Steven, as he contemplated the kingdom's next significant move in the world.
"We should build more things," was Krispin's suggestion, "There are lots of flat places that don't have buildings in them. We could... put buildings there."
"Too expensive," Lord Spaulding declared.
"We should invade Aarbyville," Greta suggested.
"Why?" Steven asked, never especially interested in risking his people if he didn't have to, and even less interested in ticking off the pirates of Aarbyville.
"We take over their territory and tell them they can keep doing their thing, so long as we get a share of the profits," Greta explained.
"I like it," Krispin said, nodding approvingly, "More money means more funds to build things."
"But that's blood money," Steven protested, "They're rich because they raid vessels on the ocean. Including ours, if they think they can get away with it."
"Hmm... taking over one of the territories involved in this war might hamper our ability to remain neutral," Lord Spaulding said, "Let's table that for later," he seemed thoughtful for a moment, then said, "You know what, I'm sick of tables. We have enough tables around here. So let's chair that for later."
"Yes, My Lord," Greta said grudgingly.
There was silence for a moment, then Lord Spaulding turned to Steven, "What about you? Do you have any bright ideas? Or even any dim ones? What about those ones that sort of flicker a bit before they go out?"
"Uh..." Steven cleared his throat, "What about... Burdley, Sire?"
"What about Burdley?" Lord Spaulding asked.
"I have heard they are extremely skilled builders," Steven said, a cautious eye on Krispin as he said this, "It's possible that we could learn a cheaper, better way of building with their aid," as Krispin's eyes narrowed, Steven hurried on, "And... and... Shopkeeper Eloise says that they export some very good medical supplies."
"Shopkeeper Eloise can barely get in enough local goods to open her shop every day," Greta spat, "How could she possibly know what Burdley has to offer?"
"Clearly someone needs to go to Burdley and ask them what they have to offer," Lord Spaulding said.
"I think Shopkeeper Eloise has already been to Burdley," Steven ventured.
"I'm glad you're so eager to go," Lord Spaulding said.
"Him? You can't send him!" Greta objected.
"You're right," Lord Spaulding said, "This place would fall apart without the Captain keeping the guards and tourists in line."
"That's not what I meant!" Greta snapped, "As evidenced by his continual losses at the strategy table, Steven is the worst strategist this country has ever seen. He'd be sure to screw up any diplomatic talks or negotiations of any kind inside of a day."
Steven did not point out that he lost at the strategy table primarily because Greta kept changing the rules on him, and that moving pieces around a board in a way that caused victory was hardly the same as being able to talk to people in a way that didn't offend them.
"I'm so glad you're volunteering for this," Lord Spaulding said.
"What? I didn't-" Greta began, but Lord Spaulding interrupted.
"Just think of it as an unpaid vacation."
"But I-" Greta protested, but Lord Spaulding simply talked over her.
"By the way, I found this while I was out digging near The Pit, and I don't have any real use for it," Lord Spaulding said, and held out a sword to Steven, "So I want you to hang onto it until I do."
The sharp-edged sword looked like it was made out of gold, but it certainly didn't feel that way. For one thing, it was much too light. For another, it vaguely reminded Steven of the dragon's tooth that his gyrfalcon, Firefly, had once brought, though he wasn't sure why. Etched into its hilt was a name: Frostfang.
"How come he always gets the cool stuff?" Greta complained.
"Because neither of us would know what to do with a falcon, much less a sword," Krispin replied.
"I shall..." Steven stumbled over the sentence, a bit overwhelmed by the obvious value of such an item, "... ensure that it is kept safe until such time as you wish it returned to you, My Lord."
"You do that," Lord Spaulding said, then added by way of dismissal, "And give Firefly a pat for me, will you?"
"Yes, My Lord."
Greta sighed irritably, "Fine. I'll go. But don't destroy the kingdom while I'm gone."
"I don't get it; what are we looking at?" Guard Rupert asked.
Steven sighed, "This is a map of the area. Here, this is the coast, where we are. Next to us are Tredony and Crafthole," Steven pointed to the corresponding portions of the map as he named them, "Advorton's way over here in the corner. And down here, the furthest south along the coastline, that's Aarbyville."
"You learned to read maps from Greta?" Rupert asked in surprise.
"No, in spite of her," Steven replied.
Rupert was silent a moment, then said, "Impressive as that is, I don't get why you called me for this clandestine meeting in the barracks."
"It's not-" Steven shook his head, "-Never mind. Look, there's a lot of ways this war between Tredony and Aarbyville could go, but even if we stay neutral, it's clear that we cannot consider ourselves uninvolved. Even now, both sides are flooding our land with their criminals to execute. Executioner Bailiff has all he can do just to take them to The Pit one by one. And the numbers are growing. These territories are starting to apply pressure from both sides, because we are directly in their way. It's not my job to tell Lord Spaulding which side we should choose, or what we should do, but it is my job to make sure that his army is prepared."
"For what?" Rupert wanted to know.
"For war," Steven answered flatly.
"But if we just stay neutral-" Rupert began, but Steven interrupted him.
"We may find that we have to defend ourselves from both sides before this is over."
"But Tredony is annexed," Rupert pointed out.
"Technically," Steven conceded, "But her loyalty is becoming questionable, and I fear it may become nonexistent if we annex Aarbyville."
"We're doing that?" Rupert's eyes widened.
"Possibly," Steven answered, "Possibly not. That's why we have to be ready. It's our job to be prepared when Lord Spaulding gives us our orders."
"I think I liked it better before we attracted all this attention," Rupert muttered.
"You mean when getting Minstrel Rhianwen to notice you was the most important thing in the world?" Steven inquired with an amused grin.
"The only reason that's not the most important thing now," Rupert said firmly, "is that now she finally has. The problem now is getting married."
"Oh, I thought you two were engaged now," Steven said.
"We are, but there's a bit of a snag in the actual getting married part."
"Really? What's the problem?" Steven asked.
"She says none of the locations I've suggested are flat enough," Rupert explained.
"Have you tried the Jacoban Church?" Steven asked.
"She says Shepherd Edwin keeps getting in the way," Rupert replied with a shrug.
Perplexed, Steven asked, "Of what?"
"The flatness of the area. She says that until he stops getting in the way of our getting married, she will never convert," Rupert himself had converted to the Jacoban faith not long ago, but Rhianwen was still determinedly an agnostic, though for no reason that was terribly apparent.
"Funny, Lord Spaulding told me he became Jacoban specifically so he could get married," Steven recalled, "Of course, he also told me he became Jacoban just because he liked the spires on the church."
"Piece of advice: never fall in love with a woman who insists on perfectly level ground for her wedding. It's not worth it," Rupert advised sagely.
"I'll try not to," Steven laughed.
"I mean it," Rupert insisted seriously, "If you think it's bad when they ignore you, you should try dealing with them when they don't like your choice of venue for the wedding."
"I'll take that under advisement," Steven said, managing a straight face, then decided to return to more serious matters, "Now, about the Aarbyville situation-"
Apparently it was a day for interruption, as Steven's sentence was interrupted by the door banging open and Adept Amie, the kingdom's royally appointed wizard, came rushing in. Amie's long sea green hair was uncombed, her green sapphire eyes wild behind her signature masquerade mask.
Steven braced himself, unsure of what she might do. When Steven and Amie had first met, she had attempted to Curse him before they even exchanged names. She had later apologized for this, and even helped Steven to win a tournament against Advorton's champion, and Steven felt a tentative friendship for her, but her moods were mercurial and sometimes dangerous. For the moment, she looked merely wild and frightened rather than angry, but Steven didn't entirely trust that.
He trusted even less the words of warning which came from Amie in a torrent.
"It's The Pit Beast!" Amie cried with panic in her voice, throwing herself at Steven and shaking him by the nearest arm, "It's going to die!"