Valkyrie's Shadow

The Tiger and the Dragon: Act 11, Chapter 3

The Tiger and the Dragon: Act 11, Chapter 3

Chapter 3

16th Day, Middle Wind Month, 1 CE

This is impossible. Just how do we…

With an exasperated sigh, Emmad Zorlu tossed his quill on the desk. He leaned back in his chair, combing the fingers of his unstained hand through his hair as he stared at the ceiling.

Does Her Majesty have the answer? No, this is my job. The Queen has so little time as it is.

He straightened and looked back down at the documents scattered in front of him. The Draconic Kingdom’s military budget was small, but it produced an insane amount of paperwork nonetheless. He didn’t mind the paperwork, however – it was the problems that presented themselves that frustrated him. The one he was facing right now was particularly vexing.

It works until it doesn’t. When it doesn’t, it can’t be fixed no matter how large the budget is.

A knock sounded at the door.

“Speak.”

“Captain Zahradnik has returned from the Sorcerous Kingdom, Your Excellency,” Captain Scavo’s voice came through. “You asked me to inform you of her arrival.”

“Where is she?”

“Er…right behind me?”

Emmad’s chair scraped over the floor as he rose and pushed it away with the back of his knees. He strode across the office to open the door. Baroness Zahradnik stood on the other side, adorned in her customary equestrian garb.

“Marshal Zorlu,” she lowered her head in a curtsey. “I hope the day finds you well.”

“Captain Zahradnik,” he said. “Welcome. Please, come in. Thank you, Captain Scavo.”

The Captain of the Palace Guard offered a sharp salute before withdrawing. Emmad held the door to the office open for the Baroness.

“Forgive the mess,” he said, “I’m still sorting through the work of the previous Marshals.”

“There seems to be quite a lot of it,” Baroness Zahradnik wove her way through the stacks of boxes and piles of folders arranged over the floor. “Was Your Excellency able to find anything useful?”

He shut the door and looked around for a place where the Baroness could sit.

“I’m not sure,” Emmad said. “Most of the records and documents here assume that the reader is already familiar with the subject matter. I may occupy the title of Marshal, but I don’t have the knowledge or experience necessary to make sense of much. In the end, I just decided to work with the budget – the accounting can be universally understood, at least. Speaking of which…”

Emmad gave up looking for a chair and offered her his own. It occurred to him that a woman had never sat in that particular chair before. Every Marshal in the Draconic Kingdom’s history had been a man.

“This is ridiculous,” he made a frustrated gesture at the documents on the desk. “I can’t figure it out. No matter what we do, we can’t win.”

Baroness Zahradnik gathered the sheets of paper into her hand, tapping them twice on the wooden desktop. Rather than immediately perusing the contents, she set them aside and produced a black lacquer box with a single branch of pale spring petals decorating the lid. A tall flask followed the box, which was in turn followed by two similarly decorated cups.

Emmad watched in silence as she filled the cups with steaming liquid, her distinctly feminine movements demanding his appreciation.

Ah – this is the form of Maids in the north, isn’t it?

Every well-bred noblewoman received the strict, demanding training of a Maid. While Lady Zahradnik’s actions weren’t the same as those raised in the Draconic Kingdom, he recognised it all the same. What they did was as much art as it was work, purposely crafted to both serve and entertain a household’s guests. If it fell upon any noblewoman to serve, they defaulted to that training.

Lady Zahradnik created a strangely-alluring gap between the Captain who could probably level every city in the country and the young Maid serving tea in front of him. Her foreign mannerisms only served to lace her repertoire with an exotic spice.

The lid came off of the lacquered box, revealing a set of neatly arranged sandwiches.

“I hope you didn’t believe for a moment that I wouldn’t notice that half-finished plate in the corner,” she said.

In truth, he had completely forgotten about it. Unable to come up with a suitable reply, he settled into his chair to eat while the Baroness stood to the side, flipping through his paperwork.

“You need your energy for training, after all,” she added.

Emmad grimaced. One of these days, Salacia would walk in on him getting run through. He feared to know what would happen after that.

“Is such intense training truly necessary?” He asked, “I’ve already grown stronger.”

And every time he did, it was as if a sign popped up over his head that said ‘thrash me harder’.

“Olga may not be able to casually pick you up and fling you into the river anymore,” the Baroness said, “but you’re still not strong enough to stand your ground against a Beastman warrior. We haven’t even touched Martial Arts yet.”

He resumed his meal in silence. Martial Arts were something that he was keenly interested in. Even after making tangible gains with the Baroness’ training, she still asserted that he wasn’t strong enough. He could only imagine that Martial Arts were what finally made up for the difference.

When he was nearly finished, Baroness Zahradnik returned to the front page.

“So you’ve been trying to figure out payrolls?”

“Mm,” Emmad nodded, then swallowed. “Most of it is straightforward enough, but the scale becomes ludicrous. The problem is–”

“Adventurers.”

“Exactly,” Emmad thumped his fist against the desk. “As I expected, you are well aware of this.”

“To be honest, Your Excellency, it’s not something I considered until recently.”

“It wasn’t? House Zahradnik never had this problem?”

“I hesitate to say this, but House Zahradnik was founded by an Adamantite Adventurer. One of the traditions of my house is for its members to register as Adventurers. This probably requires review, but…”

The Baroness reached into the pouch on her right hip and produced a glittering mithril tag. Emmad furrowed his brow at the sight, There was absolutely no way she was merely Mithril-rank.

“Apologies, Captain. I never meant to imply–”

“It’s fine, Your Excellency,” the Baroness smirked. “As I said, it’s not something I considered until recently…and it is a difficult problem.”

“‘Difficult’ is a gross understatement,” Emmad said. “How does the Empire deal with this?”

“They don’t. Their problem is the same as yours. The Baharuth Empire cannot consistently entice individuals of Platinum Rank and above into its service.”

“Platinum?” He scoffed, “We can’t even come up with enough for Gold. How do they manage?”

“Though a robust and highly-publicised system of honours and copious amounts of propaganda. I believe it works for several reasons. The first is that their system of honours offers not only wealth, but also what cannot be obtained by wealth alone: titles, rights and privileges. Broadly speaking, the crown has a firm grip on nearly every avenue of vertical mobility in the Empire.

“Related to this is the fact that ‘Imperial Knight’ has been entrenched as a ‘career path’ in the public imagination. It is one that is open to everyone who meets muster, regardless of their social strata, and roughly one per cent of the Empire’s common citizens find employment with the Imperial Army or intend to enlist. Entering the ranks of the Imperial Army also qualifies one to participate in the Empire’s system of honours. Nameless orphans born in the slums of the imperial cities are thus allowed a level playing field against even the loftiest aristocrat. At least on paper.”

He downed his cup of tea, washing down the remainder of his meal.

“What do you mean by that? The Empire is commonly known for its meritocratic approach.”

“The Empire is a highly competitive place, Your Excellency,” the Baroness told him. “To the point of being cutthroat. The Imperial Army’s leadership is admirably austere, but I can’t imagine that their oversight is nearly enough to account for every little thing.

“Beyond that, birth and upbringing matter. An orphan boy living in the fourth-class districts of Arwintar may dream of becoming an Imperial Knight, but they must also struggle for survival every day. The scion of a martial house trains to become an Imperial Captain from the moment they can hold a spear. They are educated in everything they need to know, enjoy the leeway to attend the Imperial Magic Academy, and have the benefit of a sire who is already in the service. One cannot honestly compare those two children and call it a ‘level playing field’. If the Empire considers itself ‘meritocratic’, then privilege, wealth and connections are treated as personal merits.”

“But those without privileged backgrounds do find success. Count Palatine Peshmel, for instance.”

“Oh, yes,” Baroness Zahradnik smiled for some reason. “There are nearly as many posters of Count Palatine Peshmel as there are of General Ray. They’re especially frequent in the third and fourth-class districts of every imperial city. The wall is not impossible to scale, but the differences are still there. While it is difficult for an unexceptional commoner to become an Imperial Captain, one does not have to be especially exceptional to join the ranks of the Imperial Knights. The Empire simply loves to prop up its exemplars to stoke the aspirations of its citizens – both aristocrats and commoners alike.”

“I can’t tell whether you approve or disapprove of their methods.”

“There are some things that I approve of, and there are others…well, ‘disapprove’ might be too strong a word. A few of those things are done out of ignorance, while most are simply because they can’t afford what is necessary. The Imperial Army has a budget, too, after all. Problems to do with the former are often the result of the latter.”

Emmad crossed his arms, rubbing his attempt at a new beard with his left hand.

“Would you happen to have an example of these problems?”

“Take the two children from before. They are the product of how education mostly works in our region. The vast majority are brought up under the guild system. Apprentices learn from masters. The aristocratic establishment also functions as a ‘guild’ where Pages, Maids and Footmen are ‘apprentices’ who gain experience in the workings of a Noble household. When noblewomen are married off or heirs inherit, they are honourably discharged and become ‘masters’ of their own households.”

“I follow so far,” he nodded. “But is there a better way? We’ve been using the guild system for all of known history. A better system would have taken its place if it was feasible.”

“You’re mostly right. The guild system remains the prevalent system of education because other systems are either not as effective or just impractical. Education isn’t an all-or-nothing affair, however. Every country has temple schools, for instance.”

“But temple schools aren’t a government institution unless one is in the Theocracy.”

“The Theocracy also has a university system, and the Empire has followed suit. Except the Empire’s university system is secular and thus unaffiliated with its Temples. The most laudable thing about the Empire is that, unlike Re-Estize, they have succeeded in raising robust national institutions on their safe and strong foundation. It shouldn’t be understated that the Empire’s progress is the work of a long line of visionaries who had the guidance of a certain Head Court Magician for about six generations, but it is what it is.”

Could the Draconic Kingdom do the same? It wasn’t as if they didn’t. There were colleges for the arts as well as institutes for certain industrial fields, such as agriculture. As for the military, the Empire didn’t seem far off in terms of how it handled recruitment.

“Captain, what would you say is the principal difference between the Draconic Kingdom’s military and the Empire’s?”

“Average life expectancy in the Imperial Army is ten times longer,” the Baroness paused and offered an apologetic look. “I’m sorry, Your Excellency, that came out more flippantly than intended. In the Empire, soldiers at every organisational level survive to develop, reinforce and pass on the army’s martial traditions. The core of the Imperial Army’s officer corps is composed of its martial nobility, and ‘outsiders’ who distinguish themselves quickly become a part of it through their system of honours.”

“In that case, would you say that the way we restrict the highest positions of command to members of the aristocracy is wrong?”

“The answer to that question can be complicated depending on the situation and how a country approaches certain issues,” Baroness Zahradnik said. “Fundamentally, the reason for that restriction is the same reason why the vast majority of the Imperial Army’s officer corps come from martial houses. Every single one of their Generals is also a Noble. It’s not that non-Nobles can’t become Commanders – it’s because martial Nobles are brought up to be Commanders through the guild-like aristocratic establishment.

“If raised properly, a scion of a martial house already has the capabilities of a Commander before joining the military. The same thing can happen with a commoner, but they would have to be brought up in a situation that demands it. Otherwise, they would have an education in whatever trade their family is in. Meanwhile, the traditions of a proper martial house make them a reliable source of Commanders even in peacetime.

“That upbringing is private education, so a country gains Commanders already acclimated to the nation’s military culture for free. Better than free – those houses are already working for the country and ‘producing Commanders’ isn’t usually part of any Noble contract. As with any Noble house, the Empire’s marital houses raise scions to inherit their titles, and any spares have the option of working for the Imperial Army and gaining their own titles. With the advantage they enjoy from their upbringing, they’re more likely to do that than not.”

“I see. So even if we lift the restriction, we’ll still end up with mostly Nobles in the higher ranks.”

“Now that martial Nobles don’t all get eaten within a few years, yes. Lifting the restriction also has the benefit of allowing especially talented individuals the opportunity to display their quality without hitting an arbitrary ceiling. It’s a change that won’t do any harm aside from bruising any elitist egos you might have. That change does have to be followed through with to avoid any said elitist egos from hampering development, however.”

“You wouldn’t feel threatened by that sort of change at all?”

“No,” the Baroness shook her head. “Then again, I was always in a situation where there wasn’t ever enough. I would have knighted a raven if they showed demonstrable prowess and sufficient loyalty. That being said, I can’t promise that those who have become too…comfortable won’t react poorly.”

It might have happened in other countries, but Emmad was certain that it wouldn’t in the Draconic Kingdom. If the Queen endorsed the change, then everyone would support it. The only reason why the Sorcerous Kingdom’s proposals were undergoing deliberations in the court at all was because the Queen allowed it. She did not act as one might expect of an absolute ruler, but the fact remained that she was.

“So these measures are enough to reliably secure soldiers equivalent to Gold-ranked Adventurers…”

“With the loyalty demonstrated by Her Majesty’s subjects,” Baroness Zahradnik said, “I wouldn’t be surprised if you can do better…but you will inevitably encounter the trap set by the Adventurer Guild.”

Which brought them back to the original problem. Everyone had loosely similar thresholds for living what most would consider a comfortable life. Especially powerful individuals could achieve that easily, meaning that they were in a position where they didn’t need to do anything if they didn’t want to. When they did, their services went not to those that needed them the most, but to the highest bidder or at least a cause that aligned with their personal goals.

Due to how Adventurer Guild commissions were structured, employment was always temporary and always exorbitantly expensive. Not even the wealthiest of countries could afford their rates indefinitely, and thus Adventurers were impossible to incorporate into a country’s military.

Overall, Adventurers were mercenaries who bled an already-beleaguered country dry. They often claimed to be champions of the people and could act that way in a comfortable situation, but their behaviour when things got tough showed that claim to be a bald-faced lie. If they weren’t satisfied with the terms of a job offer, they would allow millions to perish out of principle. Their home country could die and they wouldn’t care.

In short, the Adventurer Guild was essentially the worst form of guild: a cartel. One that brokered military power and promoted a mercenary mindset in the strongest of the Draconic Kingdom’s sons and daughters.

“If the Draconic Kingdom is to have a strong military,” Emmad said, “we need to diminish the influence of the Adventurer Guild. What do you think is the best way of doing that?”

“Aside from the branch in Foca Bay,” the Baroness shrugged, “the Adventurer Guild has no power in the Draconic Kingdom at all. The Draconic Kingdom is no longer in the same situation as Re-Estize, where the Adventurer Guild is more powerful than the country that they work in and is thus unassailable. You could just dissolve it. That’s what the Slane Theocracy did.”

“It would be seen as a tyrannical act,” Emmad shook his head. “Our society may seem rigid to outsiders, but it is not one that enacts oppressive measures as a means to control its citizens. I cannot go against Her Majesty’s wishes.”

“In that case, the Draconic Kingdom can follow in the footsteps of the Empire and have the military slowly phase out the Adventurer Guild from the bottom up. Well, it’s not so slow anymore with the leased Undead security forces that they have now. I hear that the Adventurer Guild branches there are rapidly dying out ever since Death-series Servitors were incorporated into the Empire’s frontier defences.”

“That seems like the much better option,” Emmad nodded. “Wait – have I been thinking myself in circles for nothing?”

“Just because you put the Adventurers out of work doesn’t mean that they’ll come crawling straight to you,” the Baroness told him. “Despite the Empire’s foreknowledge of what would likely happen after integrating the Undead into the Imperial Army, the majority of its Adventurers are slipping through its fingers to relocate to the City State Alliance. I can’t imagine that they didn’t do everything they could to keep so much talent from draining away, so the age-old question of figuring out how to retain it is not so easy.”

Emmad sighed.

“We’ve already been doing as much as we can without going bankrupt. And now, with the budget like this…”

“The situation will improve, Your Excellency,” the Baroness said, “and Her Majesty isn’t ignorant as to what the Draconic Kingdom needs.”

With the strength of the leased Undead forces answering further Beastman incursions, that was their apparent course. It was that same strength, however, that raised concerns over whether the military budget would suffer. There were already voices in the Royal Court that proposed that the Draconic Kingdom should focus even more on economic development than it already did, and military spending would be strangled if those voices held sway over the court.

“You never mentioned how the Sorcerous Kingdom handled its Adventurer Guild,” he noted. “Then again, I suppose it’s a moot discussion. Your Royal Army probably put them out of work overnight…no, wait, you said your mithril tag probably needed review just now.”

“The Royal Army did put them out of work overnight, or close enough to it. But our Adventurer Guild wasn’t discarded out of hand. They were instead repurposed by His Majesty the Sorcerer King.”

“Repurposed into what? I can’t imagine your country needing Adventurers with so many powerful soldiers at your disposal.”

Baroness Zahradnik seemed to smile to herself.

“I think most would give you the most apparent answer: that they were transformed into an organisation of explorers – ‘True Adventurers’, some like to call themselves. The real answer, however, is far beyond that. Much like Queen Oriculus, His Majesty the Sorcerer King rarely exercises his power as an absolute monarch. When he does act, however, it is always for a myriad of reasons that may be interpreted in different ways by different people to be applied in their respective fields. Much of my counsel to you is a result of that.”

Emmad cupped his tea in both hands with a furrow on his brow.

“I’m afraid I don’t follow.”

“His Majesty did not only reach out to E-Rantel’s Adventurer Guild and offer them a new and exciting sense of purpose. He was also instructing those who knew of the new Adventurer Guild’s operations on the limits of the Undead servitors.

“‘This is what the Undead are capable of, and this is what they are not.’ ‘This is what our citizens are better than the Undead at, and this is where you may best find a place in the Sorcerous Kingdom.’ Rather than constantly having to speak at length with the relevant individuals or write some sort of long treatise, His Majesty fashioned an example. Through a single act of His Majesty’s will, an institution was created to serve as a constantly-evolving study on the capabilities of his subjects, and the concept that he pioneered was applied to every aspect of the Sorcerous Kingdom.”

Just what in the world…

“How long did this ‘transformation’ take?” He asked.

“If I recall correctly, it only took a single short conversation for His Majesty to turn the guildmaster to his cause. I’m fairly certain that Guildmaster Ainzach met His Majesty with an uncooperative stance at the start.”

What Baroness Zahradnik described may as well have been the touch of a god. No mortal mind could take the stubbornly independent and problematic Adventurer Guild and transform it into such a deep and useful tool for the ages. Especially not in a few minutes.

“I pray that you never share this with Her Majesty,” he said. “She will cry at the unfairness of the world upon hearing it.”

“I shall consider Your Excellency’s request,” the Baroness’ lips turned up slightly. “Now, the reason that I came to see you was that I wished to review our plans for the coming week before discussing it with Her Majesty.”

“Of course,” he rose to his feet. “The war room?”

“If Your Excellency doesn’t mind.”

The Baroness put her things away before they headed to the western side of Oriculon Palace. They entered the war room and he went to stand at the central table. His nerves rose with a single glance at the map.

“You’re beginning the advance,” he breathed.

“That’s the intent, Your Excellency. Let’s go back to the beginning.”

Several Elder Liches moved to restore the map to its present-day configuration. Three large forces from the Katze Plains were within a day or two from the front lines along the Forst River. Dozens of Beastman positions had been identified on the opposite side. Most notably, the squads of Death-series servitors were positioned to advance from the back lines.

“Commander Linum,” Baroness Zahradnik said, “have the Beastmen reacted to our movements?”

“No more than expected, Captain,” Wiluvien replied. “They’ve only responded to shifts in the front. They don’t appear to be aware of our movements in the back. We’re ready to step up our harassment of their patrols once our orders are approved.”

“Good. Let’s begin our review for Marshal Zorlu, shall we?”

The Baroness reached out to retrieve a plotting rod from nearby. She rested the point on the city at the dead centre of the map.

“As you may have already guessed, our first move will be to take Rivergarden. Unlike Helama and Phelegia, however, we won’t be neutralising their resistance from within. This will be an open assault meant to force the Beastmen back up the Oriculon Reach.”

“Force them back, Captain?” Emmad frowned, “Not destroy them?”

“Yes, Your Excellency,” Baroness Zahradnik said. “From our observations over the past week or so, their orders – or at least the posture that the warbands have agreed on – indicate an opportunistic stance. They strike when chance favours them, and they retreat when it does not. If we move decisively, they will retreat while digesting what’s going on. The question is what they’ll do when they realise this advance is different from the skirmishes of before.”

Wasn’t that dangerous? Thus far, the Sorcerous Kingdom’s officers took great pains to ensure that they minimised collateral damage to the Draconic Kingdom and its citizens. Now, it sounded as if they were taking a stab in the dark.

“Are you taking any precautions against undesirable outcomes?” He asked.

The Baroness nodded to the Elder Liches on either side. They started shifting the markers forward.

“We’ll be starting from the extreme north and south,” she said. “The forces in the vicinity of Rivergarden will move last. Our hope is that they will realise that Rivergarden is slowly being surrounded, decide that the position is indefensible, and conduct an orderly withdrawal while they still have the opportunity. A corridor will be purposely left open for them to do just that. We’ll make it seem as if the Undead in the countryside are chasing after the withdrawing Beastmen while the Undead attracted to the city and gathering on its western side are what’s creating the ‘hole’ that they can escape through.”

Emmad stared at the markers being shifted over the map, nodding slowly. If he saw that happening, it was the conclusion that he would come to as well.

“What if they decide to hold Rivergarden?”

“Then we will lay siege to the city.”

“But–”

“The defences of the Draconic Kingdom’s cities are not very effective against flying opponents, Your Excellency. Our Elder Liches will be summoning waves of Wraiths to grind down the Beastman defenders.”

“Will that work? If they notice that the Wraiths are only going after Beastmen…”

“We’ll make it as confusing as possible. The Elder Liches will be ordered to attack the battlements before the city buildings. Spells of fear, darkness, confusion and paralysis will be employed to turn the situation into utter chaos. On that note, I can’t promise that absolutely no one will get injured in the process. The spells themselves don’t hurt anyone, but those under the effects of those spells may accidentally do so.”

He stared down at Rivergarden, which was rapidly being engulfed by Undead markers. The Draconic Kingdom had lost so many people already, so he wanted to secure the safety of as many survivors as possible. Was he being too greedy? Simply because Baroness Zahradnik was doing her best to accommodate their wishes? If a few dozen people were hurt, they could be healed. Even if some died, it was better than losing everyone. He didn’t relish that way of thinking, but he had to be pragmatic.

“I think if it’s just that much,” he said, “it should be more than acceptable. What happens after that?”

“The army will continue its advance,” the Baroness replied. “Since we’re thoroughly sweeping the area, it won’t be very fast. Without any substantial resistance, perhaps a week to their headquarters at Corrin-on-the-Lake. The general staff assumes that we’ll see a decisive battle before then, however.”

A decisive battle…

The weeks that the Sorcerous Kingdom’s forces spent sweeping in from the northwest felt almost leisurely. Now, suddenly, they were possibly a week to the climax of their campaign. Were all wars like that? Weeks and months of planning and moving and analysing and repeating that cycle all to reach a brief and violent conclusion?

“Do you have any predictions for that decisive battle?” He asked.

“Beyond the idea that there should be one, unfortunately not. Ideally, they’d never fight and just go home, but I doubt that will happen. Our intelligence indicates that they’ve invested substantial efforts into settling and reorganising the occupied territories. Battles of this nature have a way of resolving into an identifiable course, however, and we’re keeping an eye out for the signs. We’ll know where things are headed days in advance. Your Excellency will, of course, be informed of those developments.”

“Those infiltrators of yours: have they reached Eastwatch yet?”

“Not yet. We still only have aerial reconnaissance to go by.”

Emmad let out a sigh, his eyes going beyond the edge of the map to where his home of Eastwatch should have been. The Sorcerous Kingdom’s aerial reconnaissance reported that the city was fully occupied by Beastmen. There were no signs of Human activity.

“I see. In that case, will that be all for this strategic review?”

“Yes, Your Excellency. I just wanted to know if you noticed any issues with the plan. There are further questions for Her Majesty, and I’ll be asking her in Phelegia tomorrow evening after I review our forces.”

“Alright. I’ll take the barge to Phelegia tonight. Until tomorrow evening, Captain.”