Tales of the First Era: Alessia

by Blackvvater

In the earliest days of recorded history, a half-elven Breton finds himself swept up in a war between the oppressive Ayleid Empire and their human slaves - a war that will determine the fate of Cyrod and the course of history for Tamriel.

11. Chapter 11: Advance

Chapter 11

Advance

"You could have woken me," Tari grumbled, refusing to meet Atkynd's eyes. It was the morning after the celebration in Veyond, and they were sitting together on the walls overlooking the city harbor. Atkynd was blithely sipping a goblet of wine that was so watered down that he could barely taste the grapes, though he didn't mind – he'd had more than his fill of strong drinks the night before.

"You're not going to let this go, are you?" Atkynd asked airily, resisting the urge to smirk down at her teasingly.

"I'm not, no!" Tari confirmed, glaring up at him, though there was no true anger behind her eyes. "At the very least, you could have informed me that you were departing! You should have invited me to accompany you, though!"

"As I've said, you were clearly exhausted from the night before," Atkynd replied calmly, repeating the arguments that he had presented three times already. "You needed the rest. What's more, there would have been nothing for you to do. The journey was quite uneventful, I assure you."

"Yes, but… you captured an entire fortress!" Tari exclaimed. "I wish I could have seen that!"

"It was far less glorious than the Paravant made it sound," Atkynd assured her. "As I said, we merely had a civil conversation where I explained to King Karanbal why accepting the crown and an alliance was in his best interest. Hardly something that will be recorded in legend."

Tari glowered up at him as Atkynd took a bite of flatbread smeared with crushed rose hips. At this point, he was just humoring her. He'd explained all of this the night before, but she'd insisted on seeking him out the next morning to continue hounding him. Not that he minded, especially since her complaints sounded more playful than sincere.

"I'd still rather have been present for it," Tari pouted. "And the journey was only uneventful because I wasn't along."

"I agree," Atkynd admitted. Tari blinked in surprise as she glanced up at him, and he smiled warmly down at her. "I did find myself rather missing your company."

Tari stared at him in surprise for a moment, and then a slow, sheepish smile spread across her lips. "Well… I enjoy your company as well," she replied quietly. Then she narrowed her eyes up at him and nudged him with her shoulder. "All the more reason that you are not allowed to leave without at least informing me from now on," she added firmly, though her smile underlined the teasing nature of her demand.

"I'm certain it wasn't that dull at the camp," Atkynd shrugged. "Were there not still patients that needed their wounds treated?"

"There were," Tari confirmed. "And unfortunately, a few warriors did pass away from their injuries, even with my intervention," she added, her voice softening with regret.

"…I'm sorry. But it's fortunate for those that could be saved that you remained behind to care for them," Atkynd said easily, trying to cheer her up.

"True. Though I am no healer, even though I presented myself as one to General Morihaus" Tari admitted. "Alchemy is a poor substitute for proper medical training. The rebellion would do well to seek a true healer."

Before Atkynd could respond, the sounds of bare feet slapping against cobblestones echoed beneath them. Atkynd glanced over his shoulder to see a teenage girl skid to a halt beneath them, "Excuse me, Telepe?" she called up to him.

Tari shot Atkynd an amused look as he winced. The Paravant's human warriors had taken to calling him 'Telepe' ever since word had spread about his "capture" of the fortress. Though he had repeatedly told them his real name, the nickname had spread like wildfire, and he suspected that it was easier to ask for information about 'that man who captured Telepe' than to remember his actual name.

"Atkynd," he corrected the girl wearily as he looked down at her. "What is it?"

"The Paravant would like to see you in the palace," she shouted up to him. "She wished to impress upon you that it was urgent."

Atkynd nodded and pushed himself up reluctantly, dusting himself off. "We're moving out soon, so I'm not surprised," he informed Tari. Then he grinned at her sardonically. "Would you like to accompany me?"

"I would… but this time, I suspect that she only wishes to have you present," Tari answered.

"Oh! So, when I actually invite you, you don't wish to come?" Atkynd accused her playfully, grinning down at her.

"Yes! I simply wanted the invitation. I never said I would accept it," Tari replied with an infuriating smirk. "Go. The Paravant should not be kept waiting."

Atkynd nodded, tossing her a wave as he jogged down the stairs, stopping in front of the blond-haired girl. She immediately turned and began leading him through the narrow streets of Veyond. It was still early, and most of the humans were still asleep, recovering from the vast amounts of wine they had imbibed the night before. The scene was almost a parody of the Sanguinalia festival, though Atkynd felt far safer stepping around the sleeping bodies of the men than he had skirting past unconscious Ayleids.

It was a short walk to the imposing marble palace dominating the center of the city from a slightly elevated plateau. The girl stopped at the bottom of a set of two dozen marble steps, motioning for him to continue without her. Atkynd smiled at her, but before he could thank her, she scurried off. Shaking his head, he quickly scaled the steps and walked up to a pair of heavy black doors. A pair of Ayleid guards eyed him cautiously, but they didn't challenge him as he approached. Instead, they silently pushed the doors open for him, then stepped aside. Hm. A welcome change from being stopped and interrogated every time I approach, Atkynd thought drily as he walked quickly to the throne room.

The layout of the room was very similar to the one in Ceya-Tar, with a long rug leading to an ornate throne, though the rug was green, and Veyond's throne was carved of black marble lined with silver. Standing in front of it was Karanbal, glaring furiously down at the Paravant, who stood opposite him fifteen feet away with her hands behind her back. Morihaus stood beside her with his arms folded over his chest, though Atkynd didn't see Pelinal anywhere. Probably for the best, he realized. If the knight reacted so poorly to his presence, he probably would have attacked Karanbal on sight.

"You cannot conscript my sla- subjects!" Karanbal shouted, his voice echoing off the marble walls of his palace. The corner of Atkynd's mouth twitched as he continued to approach. Fortunate indeed that Pelinal wasn't here, he thought darkly. Karanbal was pushing his luck even with the more tempered Morihaus. The bull let out a threatening snort, and Karanbal took a half-step back. Two Ayleid guards posted on either side of his throne lowered their spears threateningly, but the Paravant attempted to defuse the situation by holding her hands up.

"I am not conscripting your subjects, King Karanbal," she assured him patiently. "I simply came to speak with you about the men that asked to join my army."

"That is not their decision to make! They have no right to!" Karanbal snarled.

"Don't they?" the Paravant countered, raising an eyebrow. "I was under the impression that you intended to free them. As such, they are free to make their own decisions, are they not?"

"They are to be treated as equal to Ayleids under the law, but that does not mean they are no longer beholden to my nobles!" Karanbal snapped. "And I have not given them leave to join your army!"

The Paravant was about to respond when she noticed Atkynd approaching. She turned around and smiled pleasantly at him as he stopped a few feet from the pair. "Good morning, Atkynd," she said softly. "I trust you slept well?"

"Well enough," Atkynd replied simply, bowing to Karanbal and then nodding politely to Morihaus. "I was informed that you wished to speak with me?"

"Yes, I was hoping you could help us resolve a dispute," the Paravant said. "We seem to have encountered an unexpected problem. King Karanbal has not yet officially announced that his people are to be freed, but the news about their impending liberation has spread rapidly. I suspect the guards that accompanied you to Telepe could hardly contain their excitement. Now, while our king has assured me that he intends to free his people as his first decree after his official coronation, his declaration has not yet taken effect. Nevertheless, the rumor has caused some of his human subjects to prematurely decide that they wish to exercise their newfound freedom." She paused for a second, then clarified, "By joining our army."

Atkynd glanced at Karanbal as he slowly folded his hands behind his back. "Well… I do understand why you'd want to keep them under your control, Your Majesty," Atkynd began slowly. "However, if you consider the fact that it would not only lessen the number of dissidents in your city, but also aid in providing a stronger buffer-"

"You misunderstand," Karanbal interrupted shortly. "My concern is not simply that I have not given them leave to depart, but the number of men that wish to join the rebellion."

Atkynd paused, concern starting to well up inside of him. "And how many exactly wished to join?" he asked warily.

"According to my guards' report? Three thousand, at least," Karanbal sighed.

Atkynd winced, suddenly understanding why Karanbal was angry. "And what is the population of Veyond?" he asked slowly.

"The last census placed our population at about twenty thousand, perhaps a bit more. Total, including the slave population," Karanbal answered.

Atkynd exhaled slowly, nodding reluctantly. "Thus… you simply cannot provide the Paravant with that many men, yes?"

"Correct. Nor would I, even if I had ten times that population," Karanbal added coldly.

"Yes, but I do not wish to deny those who wish to fight for us the right to," the Paravant argued, though her tone was calm, indicating that she was willing to be reasonable.

"It is not a matter of ideology, but simple mathematics," Karanbal said impatiently. "I said that I would support you, but Veyond does not have the resources necessary to provide that many supplies, especially for a prolonged campaign. Your army has consisted of… what, a few hundred warriors thus far? That small of a band can live off the land with little trouble, certainly. As your army grows larger, however, its food demands grow exponentially. An army eats like a plague of locusts. To say nothing of replacing damaged arms and armor, providing medical aid…."

"But… we fought off an army of perhaps three or four thousand Ayleids," the Paravant pointed out slowly. "Surely it's possible to field an army of that size."

"Those were Ayleid warriors that were hastily conscripted for a local campaign," Karanbal explained impatiently. "They had only a short distance to travel and were not expecting to fight for more than a few days. Even then, it was no simple task to arm and supply them. A protracted campaign in distant kingdoms is an entirely different beast."

"Perhaps we should seek another opinion?" Atkynd suggested gently. He looked past her at the winged minotaur. "General, do you believe you could support an army of three thousand, especially with the supplies you have on hand?"

Morihaus stiffened, looking uncomfortable at the sudden question, and he shot a wary glance at the Paravant. She responded with a warm smile and an encouraging nod, tacitly allowing him to state his honest opinion. With a deep sigh, he reluctantly replied, "No, my lady, we cannot. We do not have enough to feed everyone, especially if we relied upon foraging and minimal shipments of supplies, as we have until now. It would also take some time to train the new warriors in our tactics. While it is a simple matter to coordinate the movements of a few hundred, attempting the same with thousands is far more difficult. Arming and equipping them would be troublesome as well. While we have scavenged many weapons and suits of armor from the Blackwood, we could not equip that many warriors. We would be leading an uncoordinated, unarmed rabble that would devour all of our food in less than a week."

"I see…." the Paravant said, looking down, her voice heavy with disappointment. Morihaus put a hand on her shoulder, grimacing with regret. Atkynd felt a surge of pity as he gazed at the pair.

"Now, the question is how we're to address these rumors," Karanbal said, ignoring their dispirited expressions. "Dampening their enthusiasm is an unenviable task, but if I must, I shall-"

"Perhaps we could consider a compromise," Atkynd piped up. Karanbal stopped mid-sentence and narrowed his eyes, glaring, while the Paravant slowly looked up at him hopefully.

"For what reason should I 'compromise?'" Karanbal asked in a low voice. "As per our agreement, I am under no obligation to provide warriors for your rebellion. Nor do I intend to."

"No, you're under no obligation. But that does not mean it is not something you should consider anyways," Atkynd explained, inclining his head politely. "Your Majesty, with regards to ruling Veyond, what is, at present, your primary concern?"

Karanbal tilted his head slightly, suspiciously eyeing Atkynd, clearly trying to discern what he was playing at. "At present? Consolidating my hold on the throne. It is tenuous at best, given my line's history with the previous king."

"Precisely," Atkynd said firmly. Karanbal's frown deepened. "However, unlike your predecessor, you are not ruling over a population that only counts Ayleid citizens as true subjects. Rather, free humans are now a not-insignificant part of your free population. As such, you have a new base you can appeal to if you wish to strengthen your hold on your throne."

"…You wish for me to appeal to humans?" Karanbal almost spat.

"I would recommend you consider the realities of your kingdom," Atkynd corrected him. "Among all the Ayleid kings, you are in a unique position. From one point of view, your newly-freed subjects could well be on the verge of revolting against your nascent rule, as you lack the Ayleid soldiers required to enforce your rule through physical means… should you choose to divide your kingdom along racial lines. On the other hand, you could play your subjects' newfound desire to exercise their freedom to your advantage and strengthen your position. While you needn't provide an outlandish number of warriors to aid the Paravant's cause, allowing a smaller, more reasonable force to join her ranks could benefit you as well. Providing a few centuries of warriors would show your dedication to the Paravant's cause and assure your human subjects that you do intend to honor your agreement with her. This would, in turn, help secure their loyalty to you. In fact, while some of your subjects might be disappointed that you're denying them the chance to fight, you could instead direct their energies towards rebuilding Veyond. If you explained to them that gathering resources and securing the homeland for their brethren is aiding their allies in another way, you may well motivate them to unprecedented levels of production. Done properly, you could make them almost fanatically loyal to you."

"And what of my Ayleid subjects?" Karanbal pointed out, his scowl deepening. "Or have you forgotten that this is not a human city?"

"I have not," Atkynd assured him in a placating tone. He stepped a bit closer, lowering his voice conspiratorially. "In fact, this is a chance to address some of their grievances and allay their fears as well. No doubt, many of them are fearful that without a sizable Ayleid guard to protect them, the humans might turn on them. So… now is an excellent chance to rid your city of undesirable 'citizens.'" He smiled slyly as he added, "Note that I did not say which humans you should provide to the Paravant. Your nobles likely know which of their former slaves are the most troublesome, the most likely to seek vengeance upon their former masters. Who better, then, to send to join the Paravant's new army? After all, wouldn't they be the most eager to fight for her? She gets her warriors, and your nobles rid themselves of belligerent subjects. Perhaps they might even get themselves killed on the battlefield, and they would trouble your kinsmen no longer. At any rate, by sending the most volatile to fight, you would lower human dissent in the city by ridding yourself of rebellious slaves and honoring your alliance with the rebels. This, in turn, would placate your Ayleid subjects, and provide you with a more stable city to run that is far more loyal to you."

Karanbal continued to eye Atkynd cautiously. "You wish for me to send my most rebellious slaves off to war, to teach them how to rebel against me?" he whispered.

"If this is indeed a protracted campaign, by the time they return, you will have had more than enough time to secure your throne and recruit more Ayleid guards. And perhaps your human subjects will also come to love you. Several dozen men, no matter how well-trained, could not sow dissent in a city firmly loyal to its ruler." Atkynd gave him a guileful smile as he stepped back. "Of course, you are the ruler of this kingdom, and you are our ally, not our vassal. I only offer my suggestions. Should you refuse, we shall, of course, accept your decision."

Karanbal glared at Atkynd as he walked back over to the Paravant and Morihaus. The king folded his arms over his chest and stared at the ground as he began pacing back and forth, mulling over Atkynd's points while the trio stood silently. Finally, he raised his head again with a sigh. "Were I to agree, how many men would you ask?"

Atkynd bit the inside of his cheek, then suggested, "I believe eight hundred would be sufficient." He glanced warily at Morihaus, who opened his mouth to protest, but Atkynd subtly shook his head, silencing the man-bull.

Karanbal scoffed. "And here you said you wouldn't bleed my city by demanding more soldiers than it could handle. Two hundred."

Atkynd chuckled as he folded his hands behind his back again. "A token offering is one thing, but you should at least provide enough of a force to make an impact in battle. Six hundred."

Karanbal raised an eyebrow. "Were you not boasting of how four hundred stood against thousands of Ayleids? Surely you can do the same again. Three hundred."

"Ah, but now your kin will be wary of the Paravant's army, and the recruits you are providing are not rebels hardened by months of travel and fighting, but fresh-faced men who have never so much as held a spear. The burden is on General Morihaus to train them into a proper fighting force, and many of them will likely die before then. Such potential losses must be accounted for," Atkynd countered. "Five hundred? You could present that number as 'half a thousand' to make it sound more impressive, as though you're contributing more than you truly are. Any less, and it loses the effect."

Karanbal ran his fingers over his chin, seeming to consider lowering the number again, but then decided better of it. "Very well," he agreed. Then Atkynd caught a sly gleam in his eye as he looked past them. Atkynd glanced furtively over his shoulder and saw, much to his surprise, a small group of Ayleid noblemen dressed in fine silk robes approaching them. Karanbal glanced back to Atkynd, then suddenly raised his voice.

"As for food and supplies… since you're clearly so concerned with having a reliable supply chain, it behooves us to focus our efforts on rebuilding before we can properly assist you. The harvest is upon us, and with fewer hands in the field, it will take us some time to fill our granaries. Even with motivated workers, we can only provide you with so much, you understand. Nevertheless, as a show of magnanimity, we will provide you with enough grain to ensure the men are supplied for a week for your initial campaign, despite the difficult position that leaves Veyond in. We will have to tighten our belts in the short term… but such are the hardships of war."

Atkynd mentally winced as the noblemen came to a stop a short distance behind the trio of human representatives, listening intently to the proceedings. Karanbal was more clever than Atkynd had thought, he silently admitted to himself. His sudden offer maneuvered Atkynd into a position where he couldn't demand more without giving the king cause for righteous anger at his impertinence, or even potentially justify reneging on their alliance in front of his nobles. Atkynd glanced over at Morihaus, who also seemed annoyed.

"How far can eight hundred men march in a week, do you think?" Atkynd asked the bull in a low voice.

"Mm… it should get us as far as Arpenia," Morihaus muttered back. "However, we will have to ration the food carefully. That will hurt morale, especially that of the new warriors."

"We can make do until then," the Paravant interjected in a whisper, slipping between them. "You've done enough, Atkynd. Let's not push the issue. Accept his offer."

Atkynd and Morihaus traded glances, then Atkynd turned back to face Karanbal. "That is acceptable. The Paravant is most grateful for your gracious assistance."

"Indeed, I am," the Paravant added, bowing her head.

Karanbal smirked, jerking his head as well. "I'm pleased that we could come to such an equitable arrangement." He then looked past them towards the elves hovering behind them and added in an affected, regal tone, "Now then, if you'll excuse me, I must meet with my nobles to facilitate our agreement. Rest assured, you'll have your men shortly. My fellow Ayleids, if you would please follow me?"

The king turned and swept out of the throne room, the elven nobles following in his wake, leaving the trio standing alone in the room, save for the guards posted along the walls. Atkynd sighed lightly as he folded his arms over his chest.

"Forgive me, Morihaus," he said with a grimace. "I was caught off-guard. I did not expect him to be so shrewd – I couldn't very well refute his offer in front of his nobles without embarrassing both of us. I should have been able to provide you with more supplies."

"There is no need to apologize," the Paravant said soothingly, smiling warmly at him. "If anything, I'm surprised the outcome was so favorable. He was completely obstinate with me, stubbornly refusing every offer I made."

"You flatter me, though I still feel as though I lost in the end. I should have focused on your supply lines…." Atkynd murmured.

"Well… yes, I would have liked more supplies. Yet, in exchange, our ranks will now swell with the warriors Karanbal has agreed to provide us," Morihaus countered.

"Not warriors, but untrained rabble," Atkynd pointed out. "Former slaves who have never held a weapon."

"They are no different than those I have trained before," Morihaus said easily.

"But… if we cannot supply them with food…." Atkynd continued hesitantly.

"I assure you, slaves are accustomed to missing meals," the Paravant assured him, putting her hand on his shoulder and squeezing gently. "And those that join us shall not desert simply because they are denied a bit of food. The joys of their newfound freedom will quiet their hunger, at least for a while."

"Still, we should make haste for Arpenia," Morihaus cautioned her as she turned and began walking out of the palace. Atkynd and Morihaus followed her, keeping pace with her slow stride. "The emissary is correct. We cannot tarry, as our supplies are scant."

"A fair point. Please organize the men and have your centurions prepare for an influx of new warriors," the Paravant said. "Also, please select new centurions from your ranks. We shall need them to oversee the new recruits."

"As you wish, my lady," Morihaus snorted. He quickened his pace, stomping down the marble stairs of the palace and into the white cobblestone streets of Veyond, leaving the Paravant and Atkynd alone. She turned to him and favored him with a warm smile.

"Once again, I must thank you for your assistance, Atkynd," she said softly. "This is the second time in as many days that your diplomatic skills have proven a true boon."

"I'm pleased, though you needn't thank me," Atkynd replied, inclining his head. "You asked for my aid in diplomatic matters. I can at least teach you by showing you how to conduct negotiations. Besides, should your rebellion prove successful, my kingdom will have already curried favor with you. It's beneficial for both of us."

"Of course," the Paravant agreed, flashing him a knowing smile. "I am pleased that your aid benefits your kingdom as well. But please also know that I am personally glad to have you with us for now. You have been of tremendous help ever since Telepe."

"Yes… now if only your warriors would stop referring to me as a fortress and bother to memorize my real name," Atkynd added in a playfully sullen voice.

"Does it truly bother you?" the Paravant asked, frowning slightly. "It is not meant as an insult. They are glorifying your achievement – it's meant as a mark of honor."

"I know," Atkynd said gently. "But my true name is… lighter, if that makes sense. It doesn't have the weight of my deeds behind it, and lends me a certain degree of anonymity, which I rather like."

"Mm… I do know the pressure of bearing a powerful name," the Paravant admitted, a grave look settling over her face as they walked together along a narrow cobblestone street. "I feel as though every time the word 'Paravant' is spoken, my fellow humans only see me as a symbol. I sometimes wish that they would also see the woman who was assigned that title."

Atkynd quirked his head thoughtfully as he folded his arms across his chest, then looked up at the sky. "Well… perhaps you could lessen the weight of that title?" His eyes danced playfully as he added, "In fact, if it's too heavy, why not cut it in half?"

"What do you mean?" the Paravant asked, glancing up at him again.

"Well… what about another name, one that doesn't carry all the weight of your title?" Atkynd suggested. "What if, among friends, you went by something more casual? 'Parav," for instance?"

The Paravant stared at him, then suddenly burst out laughing. Atkynd's smile faltered, until she exclaimed, "That is a wonderful idea! Yes… I think I'll do something like that." She beamed up at him as she said, "And I'd like you to refer to me as such as well. From now on, especially in private, would you please call me… let's see… Parav… Pariv… Periv… Perrif? Perrif." She tilted her head thoughtfully, then smiled again and nodded. "I think I like the sound of that, yes! Please call me Perrif."

Atkynd's eyebrows rose, and then a slow grin spread across his face. "As you wish." He then dipped into an unnecessarily elaborate bow, adding teasingly, "I would be honored to address you as such, my lady."

"Don't. That undermines the point of a more common name, doesn't it?" the Paravant – Perrif – said airily, rolling her eyes at his histrionics. "Come! In the meantime, we should hurry back to camp. If Karanbal is true to his word about delivering new men, we have much to prepare for and little time."

---

Though Atkynd was apprehensive about how many liberties King Karanbal would take with his offer of men and supplies, he was pleasantly surprised to find that the king held not just to the letter of his agreement, but to the spirit of it as well. By sunset, five hundred human men and women had been assembled at the north gate of Veyond, accompanied by over a dozen wagons pulled by oxen, laden with grain and wine. The king stood at the entrance of his city, flanked by a dozen Ayleid guards and a collection of nobles dressed in fine white chitons, as he addressed the departing army.

"Let none say that Veyond does not honor its agreements," Karanbal announced, his voice carrying to the human army assembled outside his walls. "We wish you good fortune in your campaign, and when it is possible, we will once again send what aid we can."

"We thank you for your hospitality and your magnanimity," Perrif called back. "And we shall, in turn, serve as a bulwark for you and your people. Until then, rule wisely and well, King of Veyond."

The two leaders stared at each other intensely across the field, and then abruptly, Perrif turned and began leading her forces up the road. Atkynd, sitting astride Emero, felt Tari giving him a curious look, but he simply shook his head and nudged the horse onward beside the advancing human forces.

The northern march was anything but orderly at first. Atkynd had suggested that Karanbal provide recruits that were impetuous and reluctant to follow orders. It quickly became apparent that Karanbal had followed his advice. The men and women that he provided were certainly eager to fight, but they lacked discipline… and had no desire to develop it.

"Perhaps you should reassign one of your more experienced centurions to train the new warriors?" Atkynd suggested to Morihaus one night after they had stopped to camp beside the Niben River. He stood beside the minotaur holding a stylus and wax tablet that he was using to keep track of their supplies, a task he had agreed to perform for Perrif, as no other member of her retinue was literate or trained in mathematics. He didn't mind, as it meant he didn't have to train with her warriors.

Across the camp, the various centuries were being taught to memorize the various commands Morihaus had devised. They were watching a young woman struggle to get her men into formation, but her unit was half-ignoring her orders. She had managed to maneuver them into a loose square, but while some were listening to her instructions, others were eyeing the steaming pots of porridge being stirred a short distance away. The centurion was trying to draw their attention back to her by walking between the rank and smacking those that weren't paying attention with a vine stick, but she was having limited success.

"I shall not reassign anyone," Morihaus snorted, his thick arms folded over his chest. "My original centurions have already forged a bond with their units. Were I to assign them to these recruits, I fear that the fragile cohesion they have forged will break down entirely. No, these new commanders must learn to make do with the units they have been assigned. If they cannot rise to the challenge, they can be replaced. However, I do not believe I was mistaken in my selections for commanders."

Atkynd skeptically raised an eyebrow at the man-bull as the female centurion – Orina, if Atkynd recalled – finally gave up. She announced to the men that they could take a short break to eat some dinner, but when they returned, she expected their full attention. Only a few of her warriors gave an indication that they had heard, while most shuffled into a loose line in front of the boiling cauldrons.

Atkynd shook his head, but stopped when Morihaus gave a low, warning snort in his ear. Grinning apologetically, he hurried away from the minotaur and took a position beside the cooks that were doling out portions of the gruel to the men. He watched closely, making sure that each man only received a small bowl of boiled grains, as Perrif had imposed a strict rationing policy until they reached Arpenia and could decide what to do then about their supply situation. He did notice the sour looks that some of the men gave their small portions, but no one voiced a complaint. At least at first.

"I don't understand why we're bothering to learn to fight with a spear," a particularly loud, muscular young man with short blond hair mentioned as he neared the cauldrons. "I prefer a blade. You've seen me – I was the finest butcher in Veyond. Give me a knife or shortsword and any Ayleid we fight will be nothing more than a cut of pork."

"I don't know, Plontinu. I rather like fighting beside our brothers and sisters," his friend replied with a shrug.

"And that's another issue I take with our training!" Plontinu complained loudly. "How are we supposed to claim glory for ourselves?! Who will tally our feats if we're kept in a box?! Who will bear witness to our deeds?!"

Atkynd resisted the urge to roll his eyes at the young man's boasting. He had no desire to ever take part in a battle again if he could avoid it, and he was confident that the young man would feel the same when he saw blood for the first time. The weakest dogs barked the loudest, after all.

The cook in front of Plontinu ladled a bit of porridge into his wooden bowl as the young man continued chatting to his friend. Plontinu turned to take his meal, but paused and scowled down at his bowl when he noticed the meager portion.

"What is this?" he asked in a low voice, drawing himself up and glaring down at the young man who was doling out the food.

"That is your meal for the evening," the cook answered softly. Atkynd glanced at the young man, who seemed to be in his late teens, early twenties at the oldest, and had a small build, olive skin, and a head of thick, curly black hair. He kept his brown eyes down as Plontinu stood over him, glowering.

"Give me more," he demanded. "I've been marching all day and drilling all night. I deserve a larger meal than this."

The boy hesitated, then glanced over his shoulder at Atkynd unsurely. Atkynd silently shook his head. The young man nodded, taking a deep breath, and then he turned back to face Plontinu.

"I cannot," he answered softly. "Everyone receives the same amount."

Plontinu's eyes widened, and he suddenly reached across the cauldron for the young cook, who nimbly danced backwards, still clutching the wooden serving spoon. Plontinu narrowly avoided burning his hand on the hot copper pot as he yanked his arm back and growled.

"Who are you to tell me how much I can eat?!" Plontinu demanded loudly. Much of the camp had quieted down and was watching the commotion. "You're just a cook! Before this, you were a grain-slave! You're not even a warrior!"

"…I… no… but… I wish to be," the young cook murmured quietly, gazing down at the ground.

"What was that?" Plontinu scoffed.

The young man snapped his head up, gritting his teeth and wearing a furious expression. "I wish I was a warrior!" he shouted. Plontinu blinked, taken aback by his sudden fury. "I wasn't allowed to fight because I'm too small, but damn it, I want to! You dare complain about being forced to march and drill?! I wish I could! But I cannot! So, yes, I'm a mere cook, because it's the only way I might fight with the rest of you! And if this is my only role in the army, then so be it, but I'm going to do it as best I can! So stop complaining, take your meal, and move on! We have six more centuries to feed after you!"

Atkynd regarded the boy with a look of amazed respect, and scattered shouts of agreement and approval echoed down the line. Plontinu's face turned red with embarrassment and anger as he stood stock-still. Then, suddenly, he lunged at the young man, who recoiled from the sudden assault. Before he could grab the cook, however, a silver-white figure darted past Atkynd and interposed himself between Plontinu and his target.

Pelinal stood in front of Plontinu with his sword drawn and the tip pointed at the young warrior's neck. Plontinu froze as the white-haired warrior smirked down at him contemptuously.

"Proud of your knife skills, are you?" Pelinal sneered. "Tell me, would you like me to arm you so that I might see how the 'finest butcher in Veyond' truly fares in battle?"

"…I… I have… n-no quarrel… with you, Whitestrake!" Plontinu stammered.

"No? But clearly you have a quarrel with the Paravant," Pelinal replied, pressing the tip of his sword against Plontinu's neck. "You were complaining about your meal, yes?" He glanced over at Atkynd, barking, "Mongrel! Was the portion he was given insufficient?"

Atkynd's eyebrow twitched at Pelinal's slur, but he replied, "He was given a fair ration."

"If you were given a fair portion, then your protest is directed at the Paravant," Pelinal snarled, turning back around to Plontinu. "As such, if you do not feel you are receiving an adequate portion, you have a quarrel with the Paravant. And as her champion, you have a quarrel with me. Do you?"

"N-no," Plontinu stammered.

"Then take your ration, eat, and return to your formation! Your centurion expects your obedience," Pelinal barked. Plontinu hesitated until Pelinal's eyes widened warningly, whereupon he snatched up his bowl and hurried away. Pelinal sighed, sheathed his sword, and then looked over his shoulder at Orina, who had come over to break up the commotion before Pelinal had stepped in.

"Maintain order in your ranks or return to them!" Pelinal snapped at her. Orina blanched, then lowered her head and nodded. Pelinal then turned his attention to the olive-skinned boy, who flinched under his gaze. To his – and Atkynd's – surprise, however, a broad, approving grin spread across Pelinal's face.

"As for you… you wish to be a warrior?" he asked. Despite his harsh, gravelly voice, his tone was somehow softer.

"I…." The boy hesitated, then steeled himself and nodded. "I do. However, I was told that with my size-"

"Size?" Pelinal echoed derisively, snorting. "Size is only one factor in forging a warrior, and one of the least important." He reached down and gently cupped the young man's cheek, bringing his face closer. "No… what matters far more for a warrior is passion," he added in a low, almost sultry voice. "The desire to fight, to do whatever you must to claim victory, even if your opponent is superior. I would take one small yet passionate warrior as my comrade before I would take a thousand powerful, apathetic men."

The young man's face turned bright red as Pelinal turned towards the onlookers, raising his voice. "I don't give a damn who among you was assigned to cook, clean, or tend the animals! If you wish to fight, you shall be trained! This rebellion needs warriors, and any who can hold a spear and shield shall count themselves among our ranks, so long as you also attend to your other duties!"

The cooks and herders glanced at each other and began discussing with each other in low voices as Pelinal turned back to the boy, still gently holding his face in his hand. "You, however… I shall train you personally," he said softly. "If you wish to become a hoplite, I shall see to it myself. Tell me, boy… what is your name?"

"I… I… don't… have one," the young man stammered, somehow turning an even brighter shade of red.

Pelinal chuckled as he released the boy's face, touching his chin with his own thumb and forefinger. "Is that so? Well… I think the name… Huna will do well for you. I rather like the ring of it… if you do as well?"

The young man's eyes widened, and he nodded vigorously. "Yes, of course! I… never thought I would be named, much less by such a… heroic figure as… as yourself…."

Pelinal chuckled again at the boy's stammering. "We should begin your training as soon as possible," he remarked. "When your serving duties are complete, come to my tent. There is much that I wish to show you."

Huna swallowed hard and nodded again as Pelinal turned on his heel and strolled away. He paused for a moment by the cauldrons and dipped one finger in, sampling the porridge. Then, a slow, wild grin spread across his face as he resumed plodding through the camp, cackling madly to himself. He didn't even glance at Atkynd as he passed the bewildered half-elf.

"Well… more men filling the ranks is always good," Atkynd muttered to himself. He noticed Huna staring blankly, whereupon Atkynd coughed to get his attention. "We both still have duties to attend to, and as you said, you have six more centuries to feed. Focus on that task first."

Huna's eyes brightened, and the young man nodded as he hurried back to his pots. Atkynd shook his head as he glanced at Pelinal's departing form, then turned back to his wax tablet. There was no point in trying to fathom the knight's whims, he decided. Better to focus on what he could control – like the men's dinner.

---

Fortunately, their careful rationing paid off. The day before they would have depleted their remaining rations, one of the Paravant's guards announced that a scout wished to speak with the Paravant. Atkynd, Pelinal, and Morihaus were in the tent with her, discussing how to stretch their remaining food stores, when the news was delivered.

"Send the scout in to speak with us," Perrif requested. The guard inclined his head and slipped back outside, speaking to someone in a low voice. A few moments later, Pasare pushed open the flap to the tent and stepped inside, bowing to her. She glanced at Atkynd, a look of surprise at his presence briefly flickering across her face, but then she quickly turned back to Perrif, who was patiently awaiting her report.

"The road ahead is clear, my lady," Pasare announced. "We will reach Arpenia by mid-afternoon. There is no army opposing us."

"That is excellent news," Perrif sighed with relief. "Morihaus, see that the men are fed and watered. Afterwards, instruct them to form ranks and prepare for battle. When we reach the city-"

"Excuse me, my lady, but that's unnecessary," Pasare interjected. Perrif paused mid-sentence, and everyone turned to stare at her in confusion.

"What do you mean?" Perrif asked slowly. "Even if Arpenia is only able to mount a token resistance, we should still prepare…."

"That's just it, my lady. Arpenia is… no longer under Ayleid control," Pasare explained. Perrif and her advisors stared at her blankly, and she hesitantly elaborated, "When we approached the city, we were greeted by human guards dressed in bronze armor that they had seized from the city armory. They informed us that they had anticipated our arrival, and that their leader – a human man – was eagerly awaiting an audience with you. They encouraged you to make haste and wished to relay that our men would be supplied with anything we needed upon arrival."

Perrif glanced furtively at her advisors. Pelinal frowned deeply while Morihaus snorted softly, and Atkynd simply shrugged, bewildered by the news. She quirked her mouth thoughtfully, then turned back to Pasare with a nod.

"Very well. Please return to Arpenia and inform their leader that we would be pleased to accept his invitation, and that we shall be along shortly to meet with him," Perrif instructed her. Pasare grinned and inclined her head again, then spun on her heel and dashed out of the tent once again. Perrif sighed, then turned back to her entourage.

"Morihaus," she said suddenly. "Assemble the men and prepare them to march." Morihaus bowed and lumbered out of the tent as she then turned her attention to Pelinal and Atkynd. "I would like you two to accompany me into Arpenia when we arrive," she added. "Depending on the situation, we may need either martial strength or a clever tongue. I would like to be prepared for either eventuality."

Atkynd and Pelinal shot a glance at each other that quickly turned into a mutual glare when their eyes met. They simultaneously relaxed a moment later, however, when they broke eye contact and turned back towards Perrif.

"I shall ready myself immediately, my lady," Pelinal announced. He trudged past Atkynd, narrowly avoiding bumping into him – which was fortunate for the Manmer, as Atkynd knew he would have been sent sprawling to the ground at the very least. Atkynd turned back to Perrif, who smiled warmly at him.

"This seems promising," she remarked as she began walking out of the tent.

"Perhaps. It's unprecedented, at the very least," Atkynd replied cautiously. "I'm curious as to what sort of person could seize control of an entire city out from under the noses of the Ayleids, however. And how they did so. Even if Arpenia's army was scattered, there should still have been Ayleids in the city…."

"We shall see shortly, won't we?" Perrif asked cheerfully as she left the tent. Atkynd frowned after her, trying to ignore the knots of apprehension forming in his stomach.

Camp was broken down shortly afterwards, and in mere minutes, they were marching north at a quick pace, just short of a jog. Between the swift pace and the mercifully dry roads, they made excellent time, and it was barely mid-afternoon when the white walls of Arpenia became visible through the trees. Atop the walls, Atkynd could just make out the golden gleam of a dozen soldiers garbed in bronze armor, and as they drew near, he could hear elated shouts erupting from the tops of the walls as the Paravant's army was spotted.

Before they had reached the threshold of the city, the heavy bronze gates were flung open. Inside, Atkynd could see hundreds of humans lining the white cobblestone streets. Cheers and roars erupted from inside the city, and the soldiers on the walls hurried down to take up positions on either side of the gates. Now that they were closer, Atkynd saw that the guards were indeed human – primarily Nedic, though he did see a Nord, and one of the darker-skinned Keptu from the desert south of Malabal. They were clearly untrained, as they were shouting and cheering just like the citizenry, but at least they were enthusiastic, Atkynd thought.

A young, redhaired Nedic woman in a flowing green chiton stepped out of the crowd and tried to shout something at the Paravant's leaders, but her voice was drowned out by the cacophony around her. Finally, she simply motioned with one arm for Perrif to follow her. Perrif nodded and led the way into the city, flanked by Morihaus and Pelinal, with Atkynd a little ways behind them.

Her warriors filed into the city behind her, and suddenly the army found itself in an impromptu parade. They wound their way through the cobblestone streets, between marble buildings occupied by humans standing in the doorways or leaning out of the windows. Atkynd found this curious. Even in Veyond, Karanbal had tried to maintain the Ayleid hierarchy, and Atkynd doubted that humans would be permitted inside the nobles' houses unless they were servants. He began to scrutinize the buildings, and when he looked closer, he saw that the city showed subtle signs of recent damage and conflict – a burn mark here, a chipped bit of stone there, a splash of blood in an alleyway. A chill ran down Atkynd's spine as he suddenly realized that he didn't see any Ayleids in the crowd.

It was a relatively short trek to the palace, and fifteen minutes later, Perrif and her companions were led around a final corner, whereupon the massive palace of Arpenia came into view, looming above them on a low plateau. Atkynd was momentarily impressed by the structure, but his attention was quickly stolen by a ghastly sight at the palace's base. Several dozen Ayleid bodies were tangled around each other in the center of the plaza, unceremoniously dumped together in a shallow pit that had been dug in a grassy knoll. Their mangled forms had been hacked almost beyond recognition, though what few faces Atkynd could discern were twisted with expressions of terror and panic. The wind shifted and blew towards the group, and as the stench of blood and raw meat washed over him, Atkynd retched, though he managed to avoid emptying his stomach. Pelinal shot him a look of disdain over his shoulder before turning and smirking with a look of cruel approval at the mass grave.

It took Atkynd a moment to collect himself enough to straighten up, whereupon he realized that a figure was approaching them from the palace. A middle-aged Nedic man descended the steps, wearing a warm, welcoming smile. His balding head still had a ring of grey around the temples and back, and his face was clean-shaven. He had the typical wiry build of a slave accustomed to hard labor, but he carried himself with an air of confidence and authority that Atkynd was unused to seeing in Cyrod's Nedes. He was dressed in a rich, sky-blue chiton and soft leather sandals, and at his side he wore a long bronze dagger. He stopped a few feet from Perrif, appraising her silently for several long moments. Then, abruptly, he sank into a deep, respectful bow.

"Well met, my lady Paravant," he welcomed her in a dry, baritone voice. "Thank you for coming to Arpenia so quickly."

"Well met to you as well," Perrif replied, smiling warmly and returning the bow. "Though I'm afraid you have me at something of a disadvantage here."

"Of course," the man said, raising his head. "The people here have named me Valu. I am the leader of the humans here in Arpenia."

"Yes… I find that quite unexpected," Perrif remarked. "How is it that there is a human ruling this city?"

"Ah… that is quite the tale," Valu answered, smiling even more broadly. "But this is hardly the place for such discussions. If you all would please accompany me into the palace?"

Valu turned and led them up the stairs, guiding them past a pair of heavy oak doors that were flanked by two more humans dressed in bronze armor. Once inside the palace, he led the way through the throne room – which Atkynd noticed was lit by torches, while the shattered, white fragments of the Ayleids' luminous stones littered the ground beneath the sconces – and towards the heavy marble throne at the back of the room. Valu stopped at the foot of the throne and turned to face them, but did not sit on it. Perrif walked over and positioned herself so that they were both standing before the throne, facing each other, while Pelinal, Morihaus, and Atkynd took up positions behind her.

"There… this is much more comfortable," Valu chuckled, clasping his hands behind his back. "Are you all hungry? Thirsty perhaps?"

"Not at the moment," Perrif replied. "But thank you for your hospitality. Now… would you please relate how you came to control this city?"

"Indeed," Valu nodded. "Perhaps I should first explain a bit about how Arpenia has been run for the past several years. As its name – 'nobility' – implies, Arpenia is a rather rich city that has been ruled by a powerful dynasty for centuries. At first, the Ayleid kings were powerful warriors who carved a bloody foothold in the central Niben and guarded their city like tigers against Atatar in the north and Veyond in the south. Eventually, however, Arpenia began focusing its energy on trade rather than warfare and established cordial relations with its rivals by serving as a facilitator of goods up and down the Niben. Through shrewd maneuvering, Arpenia was eventually able to remain neutral in political and military affairs, as if they were attacked, they had the power to utterly ruin trade along the Niben. Luxury goods began to accumulate in the city as they passed through on their way north and south, and the royal family fell into decadence, a far cry from the vicious, bloodthirsty warriors that had first founded the city.

"In time, even the rule of their own city became too much of a hassle for the kings of Arpenia. Spoiled princes would rather enjoy the fruits of their trade than see to the functions of their city. They began to feel that even the art of governing was beneath them, that it was a task meant for lesser creatures. And so, they began employing human slaves as secretaries to oversee many of the tasks essential to the running of the city – food distribution, road maintenance, even political interaction with neighboring powers. Of course, the kings still had the power to punish their slave secretaries, and they exercised that right frequently. However, the day-to-day operation of the city was left in the hands of their slaves."

"And I assume that you were the lead secretary?" Atkynd suggested.

Valu glanced at him, regarding him with a look of surprise. "You're quite intuitive," he remarked. "Yes. From a young age, I was singled out as one of the brighter slaves, and was trained to read, write, and perform mathematics. Shortly after my fortieth birthday, I was tasked with overseeing the organization of the various secretaries that ran the city, in essence serving as a sort of… council leader, if you will. It is a position I have held for over a decade. As such, I was privy to quite a bit of information about affairs both inside and outside the city." A slight smile suddenly spread across his lips. "Including the king's decision to offer supplies to a band of rebel slaves that had taken up residence not far from his walls.

"I confess… at first, I simply thought you were nothing more than another brigand leader," Valu admitted. "I was puzzled as to why our king even deigned to deal with you in the first place. Yet, when we began providing you with supplies, our slaves would converse with your warriors, and your men spoke of you with a passion bordering on reverence. Unlike the leaders of other uprisings in the past, they claimed you had conviction, that you truly believed not only that we deserved to be free, but that it was possible. Eventually, I became intrigued, and I decided to see for myself.

"Roughly a month ago, I arranged to be part of one of the groups sent to deliver supplies to your camp. It wasn't difficult – our king had long since abandoned all but the faintest pretext of ruling beyond sitting on the throne and delivering the occasional speech, so putting myself on the roster was a simple matter. As fate would have it, that day you accompanied your men to retrieve the supplies. I doubt you remember seeing me, but I remember you. And while you were there, you said something that changed my entire perspective on my position. After inspecting our goods, you turned to your men and thanked them, not just for successfully delivering vital supplies, but for volunteering to do so. You expressed pride in them, as you had not ordered any of them to embark on what could be a potentially life-threatening mission, if they were betrayed. That, you told them, was what marked them as truly free men – the fact that it had been their decision to do something to better their own lives. Acting under one's own volition to better oneself, and to aid others, was what differentiated a freeman from a slave.

A sad smile appeared on Valu's face. "It was such a simple statement, but one that shamed me. And it made me wonder… what had I done to improve the lives of my fellow slaves? Although I had a high station for a slave, I was still subject to the whims of my masters. I had never once countermanded their orders. If they wished a fellow slave tortured or slain, I carried out that demand without question. I was almost as culpable as they in their cruelties, yet I was also no freer than the lowest slave in Arpenia. Not once had I made a decision that ran counter to my masters'. I had almost as much power as the ruler of the city, and likely the ability to improve their lives without the king even caring… yet I had not.

"When that thought crossed my mind, I was horrified and sickened by all I had done as overseer. I began questioning myself, considering whether I should step down from my station in light of this revelation. Of course, doing so would result in punishment, and another overseer would take my place, so nothing would change. Perhaps subtle defiance was the answer? But if so, then how, without earning the ire of my masters?" Valu's sad smile suddenly turned cunning. "And then, a few days later, while I was still wrestling with these thoughts, I overheard a sinister plan that my king was concocting.

"Our king had no interest in striking deals with human bandits, he claimed at dinner one night. It had been an amusing thought, considering whether to turn your band of renegades against Veyond or Atatar, but in truth, you would have stood no chance in open battle against either kingdom. Perhaps you might slay a few soldiers, but you would be quickly slaughtered. Worse, if you somehow miraculously succeeded, trade along the Niben would be disrupted horribly, which obviously was not in the king's best interests. As such, he informed his fellow nobles that he had conspired with the kings of Atatar and Veyond to join him on a 'hunting trip in the swamp,' as he called it. He suggested joining their armies together for a delightful slaughter of rebellious slaves, both to strengthen ties with his neighbors and to remind their own slaves of the futility of rebelling, as was necessary from time to time. He would meet with your slaves to deliver supplies, ambush them, and track them back to your camp, where you would be massacred. Foolproof, he claimed, and an amusing diversion that would strengthen his rule and remind his people that he was still king of Arpenia and could act like it from time to time."

Valu clasped his hands behind his back and began pacing in front of the throne, glaring at it, as though the king of Arpenia himself was still seated in it. "It was a despicable, cowardly, and dishonorable plan, and even his fellow nobles seemed put off by his proposal. He was at least clever enough to explain to his peers that they should feel no worse about this than about penning and culling sick cattle. I, however, decided that this was an opportunity to truly better the lives of my fellow slaves, as you had inspired me to do. While the king was readying for battle, I instructed a few of the human slaves that would accompany them to battle to act as runners for me. When the battle concluded, I wanted them to return to Arpenia and inform me of the outcome so that I could determine how best to improve our lives. Even if our king proved victorious, I intended to leverage his success to offer reprieves to his slaves, to improve their rations, their medical care. After all, if this was a new age of friendship and prosperity between the kingdoms of the south, they could surely afford to take better care of their slaves. And if they couldn't… well, the king hardly checked the records anyways," Valu said, his sly grin widening. "However, as we know, that wasn't what occurred."

"It was late at night, and I was asleep when one of my runners came charging into the slave warrens, muddy and exhausted, but brimming with excitement. He informed me that your army had prevailed against all odds, and that the army of Arpenia was shattered. I immediately asked him if anyone else had heard this news, and he assured me that he was the first to return. Still, I knew we had little time, so I immediately put a plan into action that capitalized on your success.

"If what he told me was true, there were few Ayleids warriors left in the city. The armory might still be guarded, but the citizens would be outnumbered three to one, and the guards more than twenty to one. As such, I quickly gathered what slaves I could and told them to rouse everyone, to arm them with knives, sticks, stones… anything that could be used as a weapon. Taking inspiration from the Thousand Strong of Sedor, we went after the armory first. It was moderately well-guarded, we overwhelmed the men protecting it, and we were able to equip ourselves with proper weapons. We then went after the guard towers, slaying the elves on the walls and sealing the gates shut, both to prevent Arpenia's remaining army from getting in and to ensure none of the Ayleids in the city could escape. And then…."

Valu took a deep breath, clearly looking pained by the memory of what happened next. "It took us three days, but by the end of our campaign, there were no Ayleids left in Arpenia. We are, so far as we know, the only completely human city-state in Cyrod." Valu took another long breath, then turned his hardened gaze to Perrif. "If you truly intend to lead a rebellion against our masters, then you will find no better city from which to conduct your campaign. We would be honored to name you Queen of Arpenia, as you are the one responsible for our victory."

Perrif stood with her hands folded in front of her, her familiar serene smile spreading across her lips as Valu bowed his head to her again. When it was clear that he was finished, she inclined her head slightly and replied, "That is quite the tale. First, I must say that I'm honored that you consider me an inspiration. However, you are incorrect when you claim that I am the one who caused your victory." She swept her arm around the throne room. "All of this was your doing, Valu. And by 'your', I mean the people of Arpenia. I gave you no instructions, sent no word that you should take the city for yourselves. Had you failed, you all would have been slain upon your king's return… if he did not choose to first indulge in unspeakable tortures. Your victory is your own, my friend. I would, however, be honored to forge an alliance with you."

Perrif turned towards Pelinal, Morihaus, and Atkynd, her smile turning mischievous. "There is, however, the matter of what to do about the administration of Arpenia," she added, her blue eyes gleaming. "As there are no Ayleids left to negotiate with, it seems that we shall need to concoct a new system of government ourselves." She turned her attention to Atkynd, her grin broadening. "Atkynd, you have more experience with these matters than we. What say you?"

Atkynd's eyebrow twitched at the way she was almost shaking with laughter. Then he glanced at Valu, who stared at him curiously. "It seems to me that Arpenia has run just fine without an Ayleid king dictating its course for many years," he replied. He nodded to Valu. "If your tale is true, then I believe there is nothing to alter."

"I concur," Perrif nodded, turning back to Valu. "Except, perhaps, for a bit of formalization that is long overdue." She straightened her back a bit more, then asked, "Valu… would you consent to being crowned King of Arpenia?"

Valu's mouth fell open in disbelief. "I… my lady, you cannot truly mean to-!" he stuttered.

"I do," Perrif answered firmly. "You claim that as overseer, you are already familiar with organizing and directing your people. In fact, you even said you have unofficially run this city for many years. What's more, you were the one who organized the uprising that captured the city, and it seems that even now, your people look to you for leadership and guidance." She glanced over her shoulder at Atkynd, adding, "From your perspective, have you any objections?"

Atkynd grimaced as he folded his arms over his chest. Though he may have been a bit more well-versed in court life than Perrif's other companions, he hardly felt that he was qualified to judge the political implications of crowning a new king. He looked down, sighing as he considered the question. "I would first verify the veracity of Valu's claims," he said finally. When Valu scowled at him, he added quickly, "I do not truly disbelieve you. The fact that we are speaking freely in this palace is evidence enough of your claims. However, it would be unwise to crown a new king without first validating the truth and ensuring that the people he will govern would indeed accept him as their leader."

Valu's scowl darkened into an outright glare, though Atkynd understood why. He knew that it sounded as though he was accusing the man of lying, which wasn't his intention – he was merely stating his concerns to Perrif, as she had requested. Still, it was better to relent a bit, he thought to himself. "That said, if all we have been told is true, then I agree that Valu would make an excellent king. I see no other reason why he should not be crowned."

Pelinal looked over at Atkynd and let out a derisive snort. "What? You have no desire to crown another Ayleid king instead?" he taunted. "Should we not wait for an elf to arrive at our gates so that you may rob us of another city?"

Atkynd shot a glare at the knight. "My previous concern was the fact that there was no better administrator available to govern Veyond," he snapped. "If the best administrator in the city is human, then I see no reason why a city cannot be ruled by men. Furthermore, we must consider the messages crowning human and elven rulers send. Installing an Ayleid king in the Veyond showed our willingness to consider Ayleid interests, not merely to exterminate them. In this instance, crowning a human king emphasizes the fact that the Paravant's liberation campaign extends to the highest echelons of society, and assures her human followers that men and women can certainly be made rulers as well. Naming her own kings also strengthens her own legitimacy as the leader of this rebellion. So, yes, once we determine that Valu is indeed the best candidate to rule Arpenia, I am fully in favor of his coronation."

Pelinal tilted his head back slightly, but said nothing. Clearly, the knight had expected Atkynd to argue in favor of an elven ruler. Privately, he was disgusted with the slaughter of the Ayleids in the city, and he hoped it wouldn't set a precedent where other cities were sacked rather than captured, and entire populations massacred. He especially didn't want the Paravant's followers turning on him for his own elven blood – the last thing he wanted was to contend with an army of Whitestrakes. He kept those thoughts to himself, however.

Perrif cleared her throat, subtly warning both men to break off their argument. "I agree with my emissary," she announced. "I would like to take some time to speak with others in this city, to hear their perspective as well." Then she smiled warmly. "But you have not given me your answer. Would you consent to being named king?"

Valu turned back to her, then looked down. "I… do not feel worthy of consideration," he admitted. "Though I led this uprising, my fellow humans suffered under my neglect for over a decade while I was overseer."

"Well… yes," Perrif conceded. "Would you continue to neglect them?"

"No! Never," Valu said firmly. "Even were my masters still in power, I would do all I could to improve their lives."

"Then you would make a fine king," Perrif concluded, smiling warmly. "So, would you accept?"
Valu hesitated, then swallowed and inclined his head. "It would be an honor I could have never dreamt of," he replied.

"Excellent!" Perrif beamed. "Then I believe we should arrange it. In the meantime, I see no reason to interfere further with the administration of this city. We would, however, welcome any aid that Arpenia can offer us."

"You shall have it," Valu answered firmly. "I know that many of my people are eager to join your rebellion, and it will be little trouble to equip them. They are untrained, but they are passionate and loyal."

"Then they are welcome to join us," Perrif nodded.

"Excellent!" Valu exclaimed. "It would also be my honor to offer whatever supplies you require. Food, transportation, skilled laborers… if you require it, you shall have it. We've collected a bountiful harvest this year, and we have a remarkable surplus that we offer you freely. If you need more beyond that, in fact, we are all willing to go a bit hungry if it aids in your victory."

"Your offer is quite generous, and hopefully unnecessary," Perrif replied. "We gladly accept, and rest assured, we shall take no more than needed."

"As you say, my lady. I shall send my secretaries in to speak with you immediately," Valu said. "Ah… there is… one other matter that I feel you should be aware of. When I received word of the Ayleid defeat in the Blackwood, I sent a few messengers north to Atatar to inform the slaves there as well. I have not heard back from them. It is possible they were merely delayed, but I fear for the situation in that city. If you would continue your march north, you should prepare for the worst."

"I shall certainly heed that advice, thank you," Perrif said. "In the meantime… we must see to other matters." She then turned to the three men hovering behind her. "Morihaus, please begin preparing the army for another fresh group of recruits. Select new centurions and ensure they are prepared to begin training immediately. Atkynd, please assist Valu in overseeing the establishment of a new supply line, and calculate how much food will be required… and whether Arpenia can indeed meet our requirements."

"As you say, my lady," Morihaus snorted. Atkynd nodded as well, as Perrif smiled at him warmly. She began stepping away, and Atkynd walked a little closer to her, leaning in to speak with her in a low voice.

"We've had a remarkable run of good fortune lately," he murmured to her. "But the lack of information from the north concerns me. I fear that we may encounter our next great obstacle soon."

"I agree," Perrif murmured to him, though she smiled warmly at him out of the corner of her mouth. "And I am pleased that you are maintaining a cautious outlook. If you fear our fortune will soon end, then please take additional precautions to ensure that if we do encounter a new problem, we can address it. I trust you shall manage… 'Telepe.'"

Atkynd's mouth fell open, both in surprise and protest at that nickname, but before he could respond, she stepped back. "Please see to the supplies, Atkynd. And be sure you get some rest tonight. I have no doubt that I shall have further need of you when we resume this campaign." She smiled cheekily over her shoulder at him as she walked off with Pelinal, leaving him speechless as Valu's secretaries approached him with scrolls and tablets riddled with numbers. How kind of her to leave him to actually facilitate her commands, he thought wryly. Sighing tolerantly, he turned to address the first secretary, who was already explaining the status of their wheat stores.