The Barons' War
Copyright© 2025 by Lumpy
Chapter 27
Village of Abling, Barony of Penleigh, Kingsheart
It was a good day for a speech. A clear day, albeit a cold one. Even in warm furs, Edmund could feel the air cutting through him as he stood on the wooden platform overlooking the village square of Abling. And yet the village square was full, with nearly every peasant from not just this small village, but from miles around it, gathered in front of the platform in much less warm clothing, waiting. That was what the promise of free food could do. They would listen to their king speak, but they came for the festival set to begin after his speech.
Edmund’s royal guards formed a protective ring around the platform, their white and gold tabards and polished steel marking them as men of the Crown. The villagers weren’t openly hostile, but still, these days, the Crown was not very popular.
Which was the point of this entire endeavor.
His right hand drifted to his chest, fingers brushing against the hard object beneath his tunic. He barely recognized he’d done it. Since he’d hung the thing around his neck, he’d found himself reaching out to touch it from time to time, comforted by it.
“People of Abling,” Edmund began. “Good people of Penleigh. I come before you today not as your king, but as a man who shares your burdens. I know what you have endured these past months. Failed harvests. Increased taxes. Young men taken from the fields to fight. Restrictions on travel that have strangled trade and left your markets empty.”
A murmur of agreement rippled through the crowd.
“For too long, the Crown has asked too much of you. These measures were put in place by a young king, my nephew Serwyn, who believed they were necessary to combat the evils plaguing our kingdom. But I see now, as I stand before you, that these remedies have become a disease of their own. And for that, I offer you my sincere apology.”
The crowd grew still. Edmund could see confusion in their eyes. This was not what they had expected to hear.
“I apologize that it has taken so long to address these wrongs. I apologize that the efforts to fight off traitorous barons delayed my response. But that time has ended. I have heard your pleas, and I have come to correct the errors of the past.”
A few voices called out in support.
“Today,” Edmund declared, “I hereby decree an end of all proclamations still in effect from Serwyn’s reign, including the taxes he put in place. From today, taxes shall return to what they were during my brother Gavric’s reign. No longer will you bear the undue burden placed upon you by those who sought to exploit you.”
A roar of approval rose from the square, so loud it seemed to shake the platform beneath Edmund’s feet. Edmund waited for the noise to subside, savoring the moment.
“But we must speak plainly about the threats we still face. While I work to ease your burdens, there are those who wish to place new ones upon your shoulders. The rebels who call themselves liberators care nothing for the common folk of Sidor. Take Baron Sinclair, who allowed raiders to pillage coastal villages in Iron Keep for months before finally rising to defend his people. And why? Because defending fishing villages served no purpose in his grab for power.”
Angry mutters spread through the crowd.
“My own house is not without blame. I loved my brother Aldric. I mourn his loss deeply, especially the manner of his death. But Aldric always hungered for the throne. He saw in young King Serwyn an obstacle to his ambitions, and he moved against him. And when that failed, he killed him in cold blood. But perhaps my greatest failure was in raising my adopted son, William.”
He forced a tremor into his voice, the grieving father betrayed by his child.
“I do not know where I went wrong. Perhaps sending him to fight in foreign wars was my mistake. There, under the influence of his Lynesian wife, he became just another puppet in a game much larger than himself. William is much like Serwyn was, full of youthful wrath and inexperience. If he returns, he intends to place you under the same crushing restrictions as his cousin did. Perhaps worse, given the Lynesian influence that now guides his hand.”
The crowd grew agitated. A few voices called out against William and the Lynesians. Edmund felt the moment approaching. He touched the Key beneath his shirt, felt its cold power seep into his fingertips.
“Traitor!” someone shouted from the crowd.
“Death to the rebels!” a woman screamed, her face contorted with rage that seemed to come from nowhere.
The cry was taken up by others. The mood of the crowd shifted. They pushed forward against the line of guards, not threateningly but eagerly, as if desperate to get closer to Edmund, to hear more of his words.
Edmund felt the energy flow through him, a heady sensation like strong wine coursing through his veins. This was what the Key could do. This was the power he had found.
“My loyal subjects,” Edmund called out, raising his voice above the growing tumult. “I am glad I was able to ease your burden.”
The crowd quieted immediately, their attention fixed on him with an intensity that would have been unnerving if Edmund hadn’t known its source.
“However, I must speak truthfully about what this means. While it lessens the hardships on you, the Crown fights for its life against despots bent on destroying our country. Without the revenue from taxes, we face a grave challenge. But I will not reinstate those taxes. Instead, the Crown will survive on voluntary contributions from loyal subjects like yourselves. We face unprecedented threats from all sides. William plots with Lynese to make a new kingdom in Rendalia from which to attack Sidor, while Garris Sinclair seeks to carve out his own kingdom in Iron Keep. Sidor must stand united against these enemies, both foreign and domestic.”
Edmund inclined his head graciously, as people began to yell out in support of the Crown, as if these offers touched him deeply.
“Your generosity honors me,” he said. “But Sidor needs more than coin and goods. It needs men willing to take up arms against those who would tear our kingdom apart. I call upon every man who can wield a sword or draw a bow to join the royal army. You will receive fair pay, and the honor of protecting your homeland from those who would destroy it.”
Edmund placed his hand over his heart, directly above where the Key lay hidden.
“Every man who takes up arms against the rebels will be remembered in our history as a hero of the kingdom. And should any fall in battle, their families will receive compensation taken from the estates of traitorous nobles. Those who serve will know that their families receive special protection from Crown forces during the dangerous Maw season. No creature will threaten your loved ones while you fight for Sidor.”
The crowd cheered again, shouting things lost in the din.
“When the rebel threat is eliminated, peace and prosperity will return to Sidor,” Edmund declared. “This I vow to you. And I will personally remember those who stood with the Crown in its hour of need.”
The crowd erupted in cheers again, chanting his name with the fervor of religious devotees. “Edmund! Edmund! Edmund!”
Edmund clutched the Key beneath his shirt, feeling its power course through him. For a moment, the faces below him blurred, and Edmund felt dizzy with the Key’s influence. He blinked hard, forcing his vision to clear.
Edmund raised his free hand in a final salute to the crowd. They reached for him, arms outstretched as if to touch divinity itself. Some wept openly, overcome by emotion they couldn’t understand.
As they continued to cheer his name, Edmund descended from the platform, surrounded by his guards who struggled to clear a path through the press of bodies. Hands reached through the cordon, touching his cloak, his sleeve, anything they could reach.
It really worked. Things were going to change.
Rendalia City, Rendalia