Enlightened Empire

After they had searched and cleaned out the village, Nahlen had called back the rest of his men. Once all the small groups had returned from throughout the hinterland, they had returned back south to the army’s central camp. As they left the bodies and the fires behind them, the commander convinced himself of his own safety.

This would be fine, wouldn’t it? After all, the local lord’s warriors had secretly plotted against them in the village. Even so, they had withstood the ambush with minimal losses. Under the circumstances, they had done remarkably well, hadn’t they? He had made sure all the possible witnesses were removed as well. Even better, this morning, the first snow of winter had started to fall. In a few hours, it would be hard to even find the leftover ruins of the village under the covers of white, let alone any evidence of his wrongdoing.

Of course, Nahlen wasn’t without worry. They hadn’t found the lord’s secret treasure in the end. Either it had been too well hidden or it had never existed, an exaggerated rumor from that drunk traveler. Still, so long as he could survive this crisis and retain Corco’s trust, there were still many chances to make a fortune in the future.

Now that he thought about it, wasn’t it audacious of the local ruler to ambush their troops? Wouldn’t it be necessary to punish them, to take the lord’s city for security reasons alone? This would be a great chance for Nahlen to distinguish himself. After all, his wolves were the only men among the king’s troops with any sort of practical battlefield experience.

Once he was in charge of the attack, the problem of his finances could be solved in an instant. Secret stash or not, a city would hold much more treasure than some tiny village. So long as the wolves could cross the enemy walls first, he could make enough plunder to win more over enough men for his plans.

While Nahlen ordered his excuses to the king and planned his redemption, he led his troops back into the camp. His men had been ordered to show strength in their posture, despite their embarrassment. Everyone knew that they had failed, but they needed to show strength to uphold the illusion.

He was shocked when the gates closed as soon as they entered the camp. All around them - on walls and between tents - stood the king’s troops with their weapons held high.

"Commander Nahlen of the Wolf Mercenaries and the ten group leaders under him. You have been accused of disobedience, murder and arson. Lay down your arms and come with us. You shall stand trial before the king."

Before him stood the annoying girl he had clashed with so many times in Saniya: Tamaya di Pluritac, another one of the king’s blind followers. For a moment he considered resistance, but he had no more than a hundred men at his disposal. Even though they were elites, they couldn’t fight their way out of such a tight encirclement.

"Put down your weapons," he ordered his men, even though many had already done so at the first sign of trouble. Convinced that he had made the right choice, he turned to the loyalist girl again. "Lead the way."

Nahlen didn’t know how their deeds had become known, but nothing was decided yet. Now that it had come to this, he would just have to lay his fate in the hands of his merchant employer, the merchant king. Wouldn’t this be an easy charge to avoid then? Just like the way he had given up on punishing Mason, Corco had always looked weak, and now he needed Nahlen more than ever before. The commander was certain: His fate was far from sealed.

__________________________

As he felt the ship below his bottom sway in the heavy currents once more, a shallow sigh escaped Mason’s dry throat. Every time he felt a bump and every time he heard a creak of his floating prison, he hoped that something might give. Maybe the ship would run aground or sink, and he would be able to escape in the confusion.

Then however, he felt the cold steel of his shackles weigh down his hands and feet; and his heart sank. In the end, he was just a quartermaster, not a fighter. With all this extra weight on him, he wouldn’t be able to swim even if he had known how. Really, that king had done his hardest to make Mason’s escape impossible.

Humiliated like a slave, he felt deep resentment towards his captors. Of course, there was no reason to complain to the king himself. Mason had reached for the greatest price on this barbarian island and failed to attain it. While his failure was a tragedy, the king’s decision had been more than lenient. However, Mason took personal offense to being tricked by that ridiculous fake alchemist. Who did that charlatan think he was? If that ’Bombasticus’ hadn’t spent his entire life tricking people, would he have been able to lure Mason into such a sneaky trap?

"Damn bastard," he muttered and sank back on his bunk.

Despite Mason’s frustration, not everything was lost. Although Dedrick liked to play the role of a cold-hearted mercenary, he was different from the other wolves. As a former knight, Dedrick was weighed down by his principles. Since his fairness guaranteed everyone a slice of the pie, it was a very useful trait for a mercenary leader to have. Even better, those principles could become a major boon for Mason very soon. With Dedrick’s occasional softness, wasn’t there a very real chance he could still be spared? Maybe if he appealed to their past, he would only spend some time in prison until the king had cooled off or forgotten about him.

"Boss, food!"

A startled Mason looked to the door, where one of the mercenaries tasked with his security entered. Since the king had declared his punishment a matter for the wolves to solve, the wolves would take care of every aspect. His hands soon held a tray with the now familiar hard, black bread. However, to his joy his jailer had added a piece of salty meat and even a small cup of red wine.

"Thank you," Mason said, and began to devour the food. Yes, even under these circumstances, there were still many among the wolves who were sympathetic to their long-time companion. For now, not all hope was lost.

"You know boss, me and the boys think the way they’ve treated you is crazy. We’d want to do more, but there’s the king’s blood hounds still." His last words only a whisper, the jailer peeked over his shoulder. Even though this was an internal matter, even the naive king had learned his lesson from the recent months. Thus, he had sent several of his own warriors with them on this ship, to monitor their actions and guarantee that Mason would be brought before Dedrick. Since they had set sail along the river, these observers had been critical of every single move his men had made, and forced them into giving Mason only the absolute minimum rations every day. Sneaking in extra food like this was risky business.

"Well, once we make it to Qarasi Castle, Dedrick will at least treat me better. For old time’s sake, if nothing else." With his sad smile he aimed to cheer up his jailer and gain his sympathy at the same time.

"We just want you to know that all the boys are still behind you. Commander Nahlen too. He wanted to say that he’s not forgotten your hard work. We won’t let anything happen to you."

Somehow, the jailer’s words were strange. Wasn’t there some deeper meaning behind them? For a while longer, the prisoner and jailer talked. More and more, Mason felt like he wasn’t alone. Maybe there was still hope, even beyond Dedrick. Maybe, Nahlen had a plan to break him out. Maybe they could stage a mutiny and organize an escape before they reached their goal. Until their arrival, there was plenty of time left.

__________________________

Despite Nahlen’s carefully laid plans, the trial in front of the king wasn’t going very well.

"King Corco, these accusations are baseless slander!" he shouted. "We have always been loyal to you! Only days ago, we managed to snuff out an ambush of enemy warriors, and extinguish it before those hidden enemies could do any more harm to our operations in the hinterland. All this at the loss of my own men. How could I be accused of anything other than heroism? But this witch here tries to frame us because she is biased against foreigners!"

With his last words, he pointed at Tamaya in accusation. The king had always shown suspicion towards this girl. This would be a good chance to stoke the flames further.

"Silence, traitor!" the girl shot back. "Long has this servant suspected your heinous actions, and now they have been confirmed. Spies of the king, as well as ordinary soldiers not under this servant’s command, have followed your troop and observed the entire process. They saw how you entered the village with evil intentions, how you began to plunder, **** and kill, as well as your incompetence when you lost the king’s valuable soldiers to a handful of common farmers. Your vile acts have long been reported to the king, as has your lack of ability!"

To gauge his position, Nahlen looked over to Corco. Somehow, he felt that the king looked quite upset behind his usual mask of indifference. Even better, his slight scowl seemed to be aimed at the witch rather than himself. Of course it would be. Presented before him was unprovoked infighting right in the middle of a war, and Tamaya’s evidence was more than strenuous. Behind Nahlen, his group leaders also began to stink up the place with their complaints.

"Nonsense!" one shouted.

"We will not become pawns in your political games, witch!" screamed another.

"Shut the fuck up!" Even more stern than usual, the king exploded and cursed the tent into silence.

Even though the group leaders had superficially upset Corco, their reckless actions showed the unhappiness of the wolves. Since they dared to shout right into the king’s face, the group leaders had proven: So long as there was no solid evidence of Nahlen’s actions, his men would no longer listen to the king’s commands if he judged against them. The death of a few villagers wasn’t worth an internal conflict. Maybe, he could still sway the king’s opinion and delay the trial until the end of the war. Plenty of time to switch sides.

"King Corco, no matter what you may have heard, this servant has never felt anything but admiration and servility towards you." Against his own wishes, Nahlen actually bowed to the merchant with the crown. At least this way, he could hide his sour expression. "Still, if you feel like this servant has wronged you in any way, give me the chance to make up for it. I’m willing to take the blame for the loss of soldiers and accept a demotion. From now on, me and my men will be the first to rush into all further battles. Please allow me to repent for the loss of men in this way."

Behind his servile attitude, Nahlen couldn’t help congratulate himself for his cleverness. Wouldn’t this still solve all his problems? In a few days, he would still be the first to enter the local lord’s city in revenge for their fallen soldiers, ready to rob it blind. Whether or not he held any title didn’t matter much either. The king had no direct control over the wolves. His men would still listen to his command, no matter what that fake king thought.

"I’m afraid it’s not that simple." Again Corco looked at Tamaya with his scowl, but when his eyes turned to Nahlen, they had grown as cold as the ice of Medala’s south. "According to reliable reports from multiple sources, you have attacked and plundered a village against my orders. In response, multiple villagers fought back and you actually managed to lose warriors in the process. For fuck’s sake, you lost my soldiers in a battle against fucking farmers! This is bad on so many levels I don’t even know where to begin! It’s vicious, it’s insubordinate, and worst of all: it’s incompetent. You almost lost a war against a fucking village! Considering we’re still in a war, I really should have you demoted, just like you wanted."

"Yes, I will receive my punishment." Quick to lower his head and hide his grin, Nahlen thanked his king for his stupidity.

"I wasn’t done," Corco’s cold voice replied. "Does this look familiar to you?"

The king threw a piece of bronze in the dirt, right in front of Nahlen’s lowered face. Upon it, he could see several wave patterns beneath one of those strange symbols of the old Medalan language.

"No, what is it?" a curious Nahlen asked. Although he understood that it must be the seal of some local house, he had never seen this specific banner before.

"I’m surprised you wouldn’t know it. It’s the sigil of Cassius, the lord of this estate, and the master of the village you destroyed. This seal was retrieved from within the burnt ruins of that village."

"What... does that mean?"

This was impossible! If something like this had existed, they would have absolutely found it in their search of the village. As he looked towards Tamaya, the witch showed him a demonic grin. By the time he got over his confusion, his time to defend himself had already passed.

"To anyone who doesn’t know: This was the possession of an illegitimate, but nonetheless recognized son of Lord Caius Cassius. You and your mercenaries have killed noble blood, and that is not something I can show leniency on. A good portion of my army belongs to the southern lords. If I let you break the rules of Medala however you want, they will no longer follow me, and I can’t have that kind of unrest. Not during the war, and not after. The rumors are already spreading too, despite my best efforts. So here’s my judgment:"

"Wait!" Nahlen shouted in the knowledge of what was to come, but a guard’s halberd hit the back of his neck and took away his coordination for a few seconds. Sprawled on the ground, he looked up at his adjudicator.

"For the crime of killing noble blood, Commander Nahlen, as well as the ten group leaders under him, will be brought to Quitaracra and executed in front of its walls, before the eyes of Lord Cassius. Let’s hope that’s gonna be enough blood sacrifice to appease the lords. Drag them away."

"No, wait! It was the witch! The witch has planned all of it! None of it is true!" As soon as it was too late, Nahlen found his voice. He kicked and screamed while he was bound and dragged away, together with his subordinates. Now he understood that their threats of insubordination had been empty. There were only around seven hundred wolves in the army at this point, compared to thousands of Medalan natives. Even worse, with this judgement of insubordination, incompetence and murder of nobility, most wolves wouldn’t even dare speak up. He had been deemed a sinner, and now he would suffer the consequences.

__________________________

"You know, these days, our talks are the only thing I still look forward to. That, and the wine." After Mason had thanked his jailer, he sipped his wine, which tasted sweeter with every day he spent in the bleak prison.

"It’s the least we can do, boss. Really, it is," the jailer answered with a cramped grin. Mason understood that he felt guilty about his inaction. All these days, the quartermaster had waited for Nahlen or the wolves aboard to save him, but so far they hadn’t made a move. Still, he pretended indifference.

"So tell me what the men have been talking about on the ship. Any new gossip?"

While his subordinate’s words turned into background noise, Mason thought more about his future. By now they were a single day away from Qarasi, and neither Nahlen nor his men had made any attempts to break him free. Maybe this steady stream of wine and meat was nothing more than a small consolation from Nahlen, a way to make himself feel better for giving up on his most trusted follower.

In the first place, hadn’t this entire undertaking been Nahlen’s idea? Mason had just been the pawn, really, just following orders. Wasn’t he innocent? The thought that he would be punished while the mastermind got away filled Mason with a seething anger. Over the days in prison, it had festered and taken hold of every part of his body.

*It might be fun to uncover Nahlen’s great conspiracy* he thought.

If, at the end of it all, he would be able to save his life as a result of his enjoyment, that would be a nice bonus. Yes, Mason had decided: As soon as he reached Qarasi, he would confess everything. If he went down, he would at least drag that selfish bastard Nahlen with him.

When he tried to celebrate his wise decision with another sip of the sweet wine, he missed his mouth and spilled red all over his dirty vest. Right after, the cup slipped from his hands. His fingers tingled, but they refused to close. A confused and desperate Mason stared at his jailer, who had ceased his gossip, but didn’t look surprised in the slightest.

"I’m sorry, boss," he muttered, with genuine pain on his face. "Boss Nahlen says it’s the only way to make sure we’ll be okay. We all know how much you like to talk. Nothing I could do."

Although he tried to grab the traitor by the neck, make him pay, the coward only had to stand up to get away. When Mason tried to follow, his legs shook so hard he lost control and landed face-first on the planks of his cell. Soon, the shakes had spread all throughout his body. Not long after, he couldn’t even feel the sway of his prison over his own convulsions.

"Really, I’m sorry boss. I really liked our talks too."

His jailer’s distressed voice was the last thing Mason ever heard.

__________________________

*Maybe the entire thing has been fake, start to finish,* Nahlen thought.

Before him stretched the walls of Quitaracra, the place he had tried to plunder. Other than a few confused faces on the walls, no one else would become a witness to his plight. To his side stood his ten group leaders, while behind he could hear the heavy, nervous breath of men about to score their first kills. Although he couldn’t turn his head in his pillory, he still felt the muzzles of a hundred muskets aimed at his back. They were unaccustomed to executions, and thus Nahlen had been afforded plenty of time to think.

*Where did those villagers get proper weapons, and even armor? Maybe, someone expected an attack from us?*

"Load your weapons!" Someone shouted behind him, followed by busy activity from the one hundred men responsible for Nahlen’s impending death.*

*Maybe, someone tasked those traveling folk to tell me a tall tale of hidden treasure... to make sure I’d raid the village with the armed farmers in it.

"Aim!" the same voice shouted, and the activity stopped soon after.

*Maybe, there never was an illegitimate son, and the seal was as much of a lie as everything else. Just a convenient excuse to get rid of a traitor.*

Of course, Nahlen’s revelations didn’t matter, not any more. As he thought about the great future he would leave unlived, tears began streaming down his face. One last time, he tried to appeal to his master of the last three years, tried to appeal to all the worth he had brought to the Fastgrade merchants. He knew that Corco was somewhere behind him.

"Please don’t-"

"Fire!"

Greatness was farther away than ever before. The enemy had won, Nahlen had lost. After a series of bangs, the world went dark.