Chapter 6

Gronnus forced a smile as his fellow Overlord stepped away from the Portal and kept his voice as congenial as possible. "You are looking as lovely as always, I must say."

Freya's dress swirled about her thighs as she stepped up to Gronnus. She placed her hands on her hips. "And you look like a pig. You were never a prizewinner, Gronnus, but you've let yourself go to the hells since the Conclave."

"Now ... now that is uncalled for, Freya!" Gronnus stammered, shaking a finger at her.

"Spare me your bluster. I didn't come here to match wits with you as there is simply no contest."

"Yes, and thank you for reminding me why I despise you so much!"

Freya smirked. "So that's why you want me in on some stupid little deal of yours?"

"If you think it is so stupid as you put it, then why did you accept my invitation in the first place?"

Freya frowned. "Because, you fat idiot, my own plans are slow to come to fruition, and I need more funds in the interim. That is the only reason I am here, so do not even think I am interested in any long-term alliance with you."

Gronnus broke into a triumphant grin. "Oh-ho! So your little scheme against Roquan isn't working, eh?"

Freya's eyes were ice. "What would you know about it? You're so out of touch these days, it's like you don't even exist to the other Overlords."

"I know enough! I know you're behind the browbeating the other Overlords gave Roquan into acquiescing to Urisi demands for a new trade treaty."

Freya let out a quick breath through her nose like a bull before charging. "Do not remind me," she muttered, walking past him in long strides.

Gronnus trotted just behind her. "I hear he already conceded, that he's hosting the Urisi Ambassador even now."

Freya whirled about. He shuddered to a stop with his face only a hand-span from hers. Her hands clenched. "Shut up."

"Didn't expect him to give in so soon, is that it?"

"Roquan is stubborn. I was counting on him holding out longer until..."

She trailed off.

"Until what?" Gronnus insisted.

Freya narrowed her eyes. "None of your gods-damned business. Let's just say I had my own offer to make to the Ambassador, but I am not yet ready. So consider yourself fortunate. If I were not in any kind of need, I would have told you to jump into hellfire head-first. Now, are we going to your office, or are you going to waste time with your childish attempts at one-upsmanship?"

Gronnus' face became hot. "To my office," he grunted through clenched teeth.

Freya gave him a supercilious smile and continued down the path at an urgent pace, forcing Gronnus to pant from the exertion. She looked about with a contemptuous gaze. "Really, Gronnus, you've let the Manor go to seed as well."

"I do not have many slaves left to tend to the grounds every day."

"Really. All part of this so-called deal of yours with the Far West? You are a fool, Gronnus."

"Then you are a bigger fool for listening to me and coming here!" Gronnus cried.

Freya laughed. "Perhaps I came so I can listen to you prattle on about this stupid idea and have the pleasure of telling you 'no'. Do you really think I would want to partner with someone that cannot figure out for himself how he had been completely fooled by Roquan during the Conclave?"

"What in hellfire are you talking about?"

Freya stopped and turned. Her lips curled in malice. "I figured out exactly how Roquan beat you at all those deals. How he always knew what and how much more to offer each Overlord to top your offer."

Gronnus' eyes widened. "How? How, Freya, how did he do it? That has been haunting me ever since the Conclave. Please, tell me!"

Freya rolled her eyes. "You are so pathetic when you beg, Gronnus. But then you'd know about begging, wouldn't you? It was exactly what you did before the Conclave when you wanted to have sex with me."

"Enough of that!" Gronnus shouted, his cheeks now a deeper scarlet. "What did Roquan do?"

She smiled humorlessly. "Amanda. She spied for him. The little bitch overheard the deals your lackey tried to make and then relayed that information to Roquan so he could top it."

"He can't ... but that's ... no one uses a slave for..." Gronnus sputtered.

"Open your eyes, you oaf. Do you really think that someone who would train a Draughtless slave would care about any other sacred slave traditions?"

Freya realized the delicious irony of her statement. She knew it was pot calling kettle black considering what her own plans were. She was about to violate even more steadfast traditions. All she cared about was triumphing over Roquan and gaining influence over the other Overlords. It was time she ran the show, and whatever was needed to accomplish that goal was fair game.

Gronnus shook his fist. "Then if Roquan did do something so ... so heinous ... I want to help you in any way I can to destroy him!"

Freya smiled. "Melodrama did always become you, Gronnus. But that still does not mean I intend to..."

"Ah, but if you would excuse an interruption, honored Overlords."

Freya frowned and looked past Gronnus. Her eyes narrowed to sharp points. "You."

Jollis smiled and bowed his head respectfully. "Good day to you, Overlord Freya D'yros. It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance again."

Gronnus had turned to face him, but Freya grabbed his shoulder and yanked him back. "This is your merchant? The one you're working with? He was Roquan's tradesman, you fat fool!"

"He is not working for Roquan. Roquan ran him off. He is not welcome there."

Freya betrayed shock as she glanced at Jollis again. She had not heard this.

The merchant met her eyes. "There is a saying in my land, Overlord. The fool allows the turncoat to remain on his lands. The wise man runs him off. The truly enlightened is the one that uses him against his former ally."

"Well said, Jollis, very well said!" Gronnus said, casting a smug look at Freya.

Freya folded her arms. "Really."

"What Overlord Gronnus says of me is true, my Lady," said Jollis. "I am indeed no longer in Roquan's employ and no longer welcome there. Feel free to use my services against him if you wish. I have no remaining loyalty to him."

"As I was saying earlier, I am not of the mindset to enter into a deal officiated by this idiot."

"I will not have you continue to insult me, Freya!" Gronnus cried.

"I am only telling you the truth. I have no faith in your ability to conclude any detail satisfactorily."

"And I am telling you, this is a chance for great profit! More platinum than you can imagine!"

Freya snorted. "I can imagine pretty big."

"Ah, but a healthy imagination is always a good one, Overlord," said Jollis. He reached into his robes and pulled out a bulging cloth bag.

"And what is that?"

Jollis' smile widened. He turned to Gronnus. "Your first payment, Overlord, as I promised."

Gronnus let Jollis place the bag in his trembling hands. He tugged at the drawstring. Coins clinked against each other and shone brilliantly in the sunlight as the bag was opened. The Overlord reached inside and pulled one out.

Freya's mouth dropped open. It was a fifty platinum piece.

"Two thousand platinum," Jollis announced happily.

"Two thousand?" Freya exclaimed.

"Two!" Gronnus cried. "You had told me only one!"

"They are feeling very generous, Overlord. They are quite eager to expand the market. Once I told them another Overlord was interested..."

Freya stepped forward. "Have you told anyone else about this? Any other Overlord whatsoever?"

"No, my Lady. This is a private deal only. Gronnus was generous enough to consider you for this deal, so it behooved me to involve you."

Freya's eyes widened, and she stared at Gronnus.

Gronnus grinned. "Yes, you should be thanking me instead of insulting me!"

Freya clenched her teeth to bite back a retort. "Fine. I will accept this partnership with you. But only for now. And do not get any ideas that I feel like I have any favor to return."

"Perish the thought, Freya. This is strictly business."

"Permit me, then, Overlord, to send my Cohorts to your Manor," Jollis said. "They can negotiate for your slaves and arrange for the Portals to send them to the Far West."

Freya was already seeing a bigger opportunity. If Evella finally came through, she could alter her plans to consider sending new slaves to both the Urisi and the Far West. With all that money at her disposal, once the civil war was over, she could position herself to virtually purchase the support of the other Overlords against Roquan.

Now if only she had hard evidence of Roquan's crime.

"Very well," Freya said with a small smile. "I am sure if they paid that much for Gronnus' pathetic slaves, they should pay a premium for mine."

Gronnus shot a venomous look at Freya but said nothing.

"I am sure they will be quite generous, Overlord," Jollis said. "Now, if you will excuse me, I have other matters to attend to."

He bowed to them both and headed away.

Jollis allowed himself a small smile. He had needed a boost to his morale. Not only would he have more slaves to send to the Far West, but he would have another location in which to open his Portals. He hoped this would force the gaze of the Imperial eye to shift from Gronnus' Manor.

His Cohorts had been fortunate enough to obtain all the platinum rather quickly. A lucrative source had presented itself at the right moment. He needed only to arrange for some goods from the black market in return. Normally he would have questioned the source more thoroughly, but time was in short supply, and it was apparent that Freya needed something to convince her of the merits of the deal.

The downside was that he had to open new Portals once more. He had sharply curtailed them to give the Mage Guild fewer opportunities. The Inonni were feverishly working on a way to shield them from detection, but they had been unsuccessful thus far.

But things were in motion once more, and this pleased him to no end.

"Everything is ready, my Lord," said Commander Rol V'klor of the Imperial Legion in an eager voice. His boots squelched against the soft ground as his shorter gait hurried to maintain pace with the long strides of the Lord General. "We started to assemble the battle lines at dawn. We are ready to begin the attack."

"I will be the judge of that, Commander," said Rithas, maintaining his hard gaze forward as they approached the edge of the ridge. "Supplies?"

"A half-moon's worth before we need to resupply them. Then we can get another half-moon to them. I doubt this campaign will last that long, Lord General."

Rithas still hated that title. But at least now he got to do what he wanted, which was command men into battle. "And the rainstorm yesterday will not affect your progress?"

"No, my Lord. The storm clung more to the coastal regions. My scouts tell me that the land dries out quickly to the west. The valley itself was virtually untouched."

They reached the edge of the ridge. Rithas peered down at the assembled men, animals, and equipment of the Third Imperial Legion.

He drew in a deep breath, his chest swelling in pride. He gazed down at the lines of men on horses, at the contingents of men in armor, at the line of archers curving about the rear of the formation.

He was sorely tempted to take direct command of the Legion himself. He wanted the glory of the first victory of the war. But he would have to settle for whatever accolades Z'haas chose to mete out, if any.

"I do hope you are pleased, my Lord," said Rol, sharing some of Rithas' pride.

"It will do." Rithas actually was impressed, but he was also quite enjoying wielding power over men. He was about to turn away when his eyes were drawn to something near the front of the lines.

Flanking the forward lines of the formation were two large catapults, drawn by large beasts, one on each side. They were pulling ahead of the others, a contingent of foot soldiers and archers swarming about each.

"What is that, Commander?" Rithas said, pointing. "Why are they leaving the battle line?"

"They are forming their own battle line, Lord General. They will move along the flank of our advance and launch a barrage at the first sign of resistance. It's called a Two-Point Thrust maneuver, used during the Founding War."

Rithas turned to him. "Really? Are you a student of history?"

"Military history, yes, my Lord. I thought it fitting that a key to Monarchist victory two centuries ago be used in the opening battle of the Reunification War."

Rithas smirked. Yes, he had heard that term being used by the Emperor now. Z'haas wanted to paint himself as the great leader seeking to preserve the nation. He wanted to look good for the history scrolls, which would never tell the tale of how the Emperor had impaled a naked young woman on the end of a sword in his own throne room.

Rithas did not care for such things himself. He was living for the present. He allowed the Commander to have his little fantasy. "Very well, Commander. Have you any scouts remaining in the field?"

"No, my Lord. All have returned and report no resistance to the mouth of the valley."

"It will be the valley where the battle will be waged. They will not waste time engaging us before that."

Rol nodded quickly. "Do I have your leave, Lord General?"

Rithas grinned, almost in amusement. "You have it."

The Commander already had reached into his uniform and pulled out a short tube carved from wood, wider at one end than the other. He placed the narrow end near his mouth, and when he spoke again, his voice was magically amplified. His voice boomed across the clearing below.

"Men of the Third Imperial Legion in the service of the Exalted Emperor Fenric Z'haas of Oceanus!"

At once, all activity talk ceased. Soldiers lined up and drew their swords. Horsemen nudged their mounts into an arrow-straight line. Archers stood poised, right foot forward, left foot back.

"It is time to take the war to the traitorous rabble that threaten the very existence of our nation and our lives!"

This time, Rithas did look amused.

Rol raised his arm, held it aloft for a dramatic moment, then thrust it towards the west. "FORWARD!"

There was a single heartfelt though rigidly disciplined cheer as the Legion began their orderly march.

Rol turned to the Lord General, grinning widely. "I must get to my contingent. Your pardon, my Lord."

"Good luck, and good hunting," said Rithas, but the young Commander was already scrambling down the hillside. He turned his gaze to the advancing Imperial column.

"And so it begins," he said quietly. "Finally... "

Emperor Z'haas gripped the hand rests of his throne as his Mage ambled towards the dais.

Several times he had to stop himself from ordering Rithas to call off the attack. He was sure that the Lord General was wrong, that one of Duric's legions was lying in ambush, waiting for the Imperial forces to give in to just this sort of foolishness.

"Yes, what is it?" Z'haas demanded of the Mage before he was barely halfway to the throne. "What news of disaster ... what news do you bring to me today?"

"Word comes from your Master Agent, my Emperor!" Q'holan called out. He stopped at the edge of the dais and looked up. "He reports progress in the efforts against the suspected spies at the D'yoran Manor."

Z'haas frowned and cast a cool gaze at the Mage. "Have you forgotten your place?"

Q'holan looked perplexed for a moment, then quite embarrassed. He dropped to one knee and bowed his head. "My Exalted Emperor, I am but your lowly servant," he said in a reverent voice.

The Emperor paused, then nodded once. He had insisted on this new form of greeting a few days prior. He believed it would instill a greater sense of loyalty and respect from the Imperial citizenry. In his increasingly twisted logic, he believed it would help uncover who among the court might be plotting against him, as they would invariably resist the change.

"You may rise and speak."

Q'holan stood. "As I was saying, my Emperor, your Master Agent reports progress. He says that an Imperial Agent managed to make contact with one of the associates of the foreign spy."

Z'haas pushed himself to his feet and descended the dais. "We have infiltrated their ranks?"

"Not quite infiltrated, my Emperor. Your agents heard that they were in need of a large quantity of platinum. An agent posed as a black marketeer and provided a generous portion of the money in exchange for some exotic goods."

The Emperor's face grew rigid. "Generous portion? How generous?"

"A little over one thousand, my Emperor."

"One thousand? When I authorized this plan, I did not intend for it to be an excuse to pilfer the Imperial treasury!" he shouted.

Q'holan was confused as to why the Emperor was quibbling over this. Surely this was little more than pocket change compared to the Imperial coffers. "Please, my Emperor, I had no control over this, it was the Master Agent that..."

Z'haas waved a hand angrily at him before clasping both behind his back. He forced himself to take a calming breath. "I will speak with the Master Agent myself on this matter when he next contacts us. Now, has anything else come of this, or has this simply been an exercise in wanton fiduciary excess?"

"Yes, my Emperor. The agent is arranging to meet the foreign spy to receive the requested goods. A trap will be laid for the spy at that time. It is hoped that this..."

"I do not want hope, I want action! Remind the Master Agent again, Q'holan, that if the foreign spy cannot be caught, he is to be killed! I will break that traitorous Overlord's connection to the Far West no matter what!"

"Yes, my Emperor, understood!" cried Q'holan.

"Is that all you have, Mage?"

"Yes, that's all, my..."

"Then get out."

The Mage backed away, hastily bowed, and fled the chamber.

The Emperor turned away. He started up the dais, paused, then slammed a clenched fist into the arm rest of the throne.

One thousand platinum! Had he been informed of this foolishness, he would have put a stop to it immediately. Yet he could not speak out any further on it, lest he reveal the Imperium's great weakness.

The Imperial treasury was much more poor than anyone suspected. The few accounting clerks that knew were under threat of death if they revealed anything of the dire state of the Imperial economy.

The merchants were strangling the Imperium. They claimed neutrality, and a willingness to trade with both sides equally, but it was clear to him they were holding back. Their vague claims of the ravages of war slowing the flow of goods were thin at best. It was as if they were trying to tip the balance of power in favor of the Nobility and Overlords.

The Emperor clenched his teeth. He commanded the most powerful navy on Narlass. One order from him, one deadly barrage against the major shore side Noble holdings and Overlord Manors, and the war would end swiftly.

And the merchants would halt all trade with the Empire until it was destitute and barren.

The Emperor turned. "Guards!"

The two guards flanking the doors stepped forward and dropped to one knee.

"Summon Ambassador Mandas at once," said Z'haas as he sat upon his throne. "I wish to offer him a deal..."

Q'yros glowered at the students as they trundled out of the classroom. A few cast disappointed looks at him.

He knew what they had really wished of him, and it had little to do with learning magic. They had wished to hear a rant about the current administration at the Guild Hall. He had been famous for such things when he used to teach on a regular basis many years ago.

Q'yros uttered a sigh. He had not wanted to give any lectures whatsoever, but the Guildmaster had insisted. It was likely intended to act as confirmation of the rumor that Q'yros had become Q'ixanna's lackey and further diminish his influence.

"Excuse me, Master Q'yros."

Q'yros flinched. "Yes, Journeyman Q'garra, what is it?" he asked in an irritated voice.

Uroddus adjusted his spectacles and cleared his throat. "I had an idea this morning about the artifacts I wish to investigate, and I need your permission to get past the wizard-locks."

Q'yros draped his hands over the end of his staff. "Oh? What idea would this be?"

"I am hesitant to tell you, Master Q'yros. I feel you will consider it nonsense and a waste of time."

"As limited as my options are for further investigation, Q'garra, it would not surprise me a bit if you suggested reading the entrails of pig, nor would I tell you no."

"Ah, very good, then. In that case, you will not be upset if I also ask for the use of a psychic probe."

Q'yros nearly recoiled. "A what?"

The young Journeyman slipped off his spectacles and tapped them against his hand. "I knew you would be upset, Master Q'yros," he said in a rather matter-of-fact tone.