Chapter Thirty-Seven

  Torald found that in the aftermath of Lord Ulbert’s departure, his status had shot up to previously unforeseen heights. While his house was not a trivial one, having ancient lineage and a distinguished service to the crown, he was far from the throne until carried there by his service to Ulbert Alain Odle… and with that status came new proposals.

  Men and women spoke to him of their daughters, while daughters of eligible houses contrived excuses to be where he happened to also be. Some were ludicrous, others clever.

  But for the first time in a long time, there was something other than fighting and surviving on anybody’s mind. ‘Our Kingdom has a future now, and everybody knows it. And I’m due to be the right hand of the future Emperor. This is nothing less than to be expected.’ He pondered while he walked toward the private council chamber of the Queen. The Concilium Privus or ‘privy council’ was a tradition more ancient than the kingdom itself, and it brought together the most powerful and closest allies of the crown to discuss matters of state.

  Torald had not attended it before, and he doubted he would be attending now if Lord Ulbert were present. But as he was not, it made sense for him to be there in Lord Ulbert’s stead.

  This too, was expected.

  When he entered the chamber, that place was rather ‘un’ expected. The table was of obsidian and polished so much that it gleamed in the light of day that shone through the open gray stone windowframe. The chairs were carved out of the same material, though they had scarlet cushions of velvet cloth on the chair backs and seats, and all the edges of the stone were chipped away and polished to a smooth round shape to avoid even the most minor of injuries.

  Beyond that, there sat a set of wine bottles in tilted racks waiting to be opened, their glass was of a deep pine green and their bodies round as a drunkard’s big belly. Glasses hung upside down beside the wine. On the far side of the room sat a stand filled with cubby holes with a wide array of scrolls, notably none of them were dusty, suggesting regular use or replacement of the materials. Along the wall there was a rack holding not coats, but a set of cloths with various insignias, some of which belonged to houses that were long since extinguished.

  There were no more than nine seats, however, only four were occupied by lords of the realm. One seat, the head of the table, was occupied by the Queen herself. Torald quickly concluded the obvious. ‘The other seats were held by lords of lands long lost to the beastmen…’ The unoccupied chairs had thick layers of dust on them, having gone untended in ages.

  “It is a tradition of the Concilium Privus to arrive before the Queen.” The Queen said as Torald closed the door behind him. “But we’ll let it go this time since you were not invited until late. However, please note these meetings take place weekly after the afternoon meal and present yourself in a more timely manner when in the palace.”

  “Yes, Your Majesty.” Torald said and bowed deeply at the waist.

  She then pointed to the set of cloths on the wall, “Take mine for now, we will have one made for yourself and my future husband at a later date. It is also a tradition of the Concilium Privus that each member dusts his own seat. No servants are permitted here except to record the meeting, and we rarely record the meeting.”

  “Your Majesty honors me greatly.” Torald said from his bowed position, then straightening up, he removed her cloth from the rack and dusted the chair she gestured to, the one nearest to herself. He noted that as he wiped away the dust, it vanished completely where the cloth touched, while the cloth itself remained completely clean.

  It was done within a minute, and with that Torald claimed his seat.

  “Sir Torald Haroldson, welcome to the council. I am Vermillion of the House Noval. While we’ve corresponded by letter, I don’t believe we’ve had the pleasure of meeting in person.” An old man said and leaning forward, he extended his hand across the table.

  “We haven’t, but I do recall your letters. You had beautiful penmanship. My late mother referred to it as a work of art.” Torald answered, and the old man flushed red in the face, the smile he wore was clearly pleased with the praise.

  “I do take pride in my calligraphy, it pleases me that your mother and yourself recognized that.” Vermillion replied, though he didn’t proffer similar praise, Torald didn’t blame him.

  ‘My own might as well have been written with a broadsword instead of a quill.’ The knight thought with a sense of self effacing amusement.

  One by one they made their introductions, all of them were informally met at the recent dinner party, but this was different… and what’s more, they knew it. He could see the way they sized him up, compared his appearance to his reputation, and he did the same with them.

  The whole thing lasted not much longer than it took for him to clean his chair and replace the cloth back on the rack.

  “Now, down to business. According to message spells from our scouts who are following well behind my future husband, he and his companions have eliminated seven beastmen cities and all associated towns and villages, their populations are in full flight, some places have already run in anticipation of his coming. Simply put, the Beastman Kingdom is falling apart from within. One quarter of it is in his hands, and half will be theirs at this rate within a fortnight.” The Queen’s bright smile would have chilled the blood of most as they reveled in the deaths of hundreds of thousands, and the pending demise of vastly more.

  But none of that ‘most’ would have lived in the Draconic Kingdom, nor was that smile not shared by anyone at the table in the Concilium Privus. Every mind was united with the same thought.

  The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.

  ‘Serves you right.’

  “The only question remaining to me is who would the rest of his companions be? Our scouts report four… now I wouldn’t presume to question my future husband about his companions, but I was hoping you might know something. Sadly, royal families have few anonymous friends.” Queen Draudillon tilted her head down toward Torald with an indulgent, encouraging smile.

  “I can’t guess as to two of them, but… if one of them was undead? Lord Ulbert spoke of one named ‘Momonga’ an undead being of great power. I can’t say for sure, but as I said, if one of them is undead, that is probably him.” Torald said, and the table looked to the Queen.

  She nodded, she’d held back that information, but his providing it was proof enough. “Could he be connected to the Sorcerer King, ‘Ainz Ooal Gown’ Or the hero, Momon?” She asked, her heart skipped a beat, the very idea of such a connection, it was all but confirmed. “I suspected as much before, he indicated knowing the name… it seems,” Queen Draudillon glanced over her shoulder and nodded, prompting Vermillion to rise and retrieve a bottle and glasses for the table, when the cork popped, she finished, “that I was probably right. He avoided the questions at the time, but I’m relieved. If he’s already close friends with someone so powerful, that can only benefit us.”

  The noise of sloshing wine was the only one in the room for several seconds, and after each noble had a glass and the bottle replaced, the Queen said, “If I’m right, then I am going to suggest to my husband when he returns that we imitate Emperor Jircniv and request vassalization with the Sorcerous Kingdom. I’m sure that all the disruption on the border with the beastmen will create problems with their own neighbors, and powerful allies are a must. Furthermore, we can count on the Slane Theocracy withdrawing all support from our country for as long as I or my husband or our heirs are on the throne.”

  She raised her glass, and the rest of the table did likewise, then looked toward Torald, “If you object, set your glass down without drinking.”

  “Anyone who counts themselves a friend of Lord Ulbert, I will trust as well.” Torald said without hesitation, then drank his glass dry before setting it down squarely centered in front of himself.

  The rest of the table, including the Queen, drank shortly thereafter.

  “Now, on another matter, a few days ago, Cerebrate was murdered. He was found in a brothel, I don’t need to tell you what kind it was, I’m sure.” She made a sour face, her frown deep and eyes filled with disgust, it was matched by the rest of the table.

  “He was also found along with several other adults who worked there, the ‘lambs’ as the report states, escaped over the border into the Slane Theocracy. More noteworthy, Cerebrate, along with his ‘cohorts’ were all beheaded, and their heads placed on spikes throughout the building. Personally speaking,” the Queen said and folded one hand over the other flat on the table, “I’m glad he’s dead. He was a stain on our whole country. But he was still an adamantite ranked adventurer and those are hard to replace. Worse, because of how ‘graphic’ the display was, a lot of negative attention has started to spread around the region. So, how do we respond?”

  Torald raised one finger, “Your Majesty, the border region is filled with refugees, but we’ve now got land they can go to in safety. Can I suggest that we start repatriating them east, into the lands formerly occupied by beastmen?”

  “Yes. But that requires a great deal of resources.” She pointed out, “And as I previously said, we can forget about getting those from the Slane Theocracy any longer. They have a representative on their way here, according to documents received on the same day. I wouldn’t put it past one of them to have killed Cerebrate to send me a message.”

  She took a deep breath, “The Holy Kingdom is struggling and too far away, the Re-Estize Kingdom is struggling and is also too far away, the Baharuth Empire is fine, but also very distant, it would take months or more for aid to arrive even if they were willing to provide it.”

  “That leaves the Sorcerous Kingdom, and if we request aid now, we may appear to be a burden on them… and if they reject the request…we’ll have lost our only potential ally and offended the Slane Theocracy to boot.” Vermillion concluded.

  “Could we have the scouts approach the four ‘privately’ on your behalf, Majesty?” Torald asked, “It may be unusual, but if these are not unusual times, I don’t know what is.”

  “And what about the resources within the captured territory? Beastmen farms, ranches, cities? They don’t only eat human flesh.” Vermillion suggested.

  “A fair point.” The Queen replied. “Very well, send more scouts out to secure what resources they can ‘behind’ my future husband and his companions. Make sure we send literate ones who are capable of counting, and have the scouts already out, make contact and put forth an informal request for food and other vital supplies to begin moving the refugees over.”

  “One more thing, Your Majesty.” Torald said, “What happened with Cerebrate was possible because it was easy to buy or steal children. Families died off or sold off their children to survive, that sort of thing. I’ve seen it many times, I can’t tell you how many times a peasant man or woman has begged me to buy their child in order to ensure they survived.”

  “To ensure who survives, the parent, or the child?” Draudillon asked.

  “Yes.” Torald answered bluntly. “I suggest sending out some investigators to confirm relationships between alleged guardians and to see that these abuses are uncovered and severely punished, as we move people back east. Otherwise we will just move the problem from one location to another.”

  “Given that your house will be in charge of much of the territory there, that seems a perfect job for you, Sir Torald Haroldson. Well, that, and one easy mission first… explain things to the emissary from the Slane Theocracy before he gets here. Spare your Queen most of the trouble. Assuming you think yourself able?” The Queen said with a sweet smile.

  He could only bow his head. “Understood, My Queen.” He yielded to her will, and she then addressed the rest of the table.

  “See to it. Do we have any objections?” She asked, and Torald, sensing her intent, rose to pour more glasses.

  When he reclaimed his seat and raised his glass of blood red wine, and drank, so too did the rest of the table.

  It was, in his mind, the start of a very good day… and a busier life than the war had ever given him.

  “Oh, and Torald,” she added, prompting him to look her way as the glass touched the table surface, “give him your oath.”

  Grave looks went around the room, but the knight did not hesitate. “I obey.” He vowed.

  And that was that.