The Council chamber had changed only a little since the last time he’d been present.

  Some of the stuffy, ancient furniture had been changed, or at least cleaned up. The Frost Elves were far more present in the ranks of the watching nobility as Matt took the throne in the center of the room. Cholia and Girtun were both present, rather than just one of them, and they seemed to be watching each other as much as they watched the nobles.

  Matt watched them a moment, the mace held lightly in his hand. His wounds were still aching, but at least they weren’t as bad as they were a week previously. The healers had been encouraging when he spoke to them, though some of them had exchanged worried looks he’d talked about going into battle again.

  Hopefully, the only fighting he had to deal with today was verbal. Time would tell.

  He sat, and Lord Torth was the first to rise. The High Imp’s voice still carried that practiced, smooth quality that made him seem like an excellent orator. “Sire, allow me to welcome you yet again to Redspire. It is a relief to have you here with us again.”

  Matt nodded. “Thank you, Lord Torth.” He looked around at the nobles and smiled. “I’d like to thank you for your work in caring for the Kingdom in my absence. Without your work, I could not have secured our borders or destroyed our enemies so thoroughly. I am glad that I have been able to depend on you for your support at this time.”

  A Hard Scythe Orc stood, his eyes sharp. “I understand that there was a battle with the Alliance in the Broken Hills?”

  He turned his attention to the noble. “Yes. Together with the forces of the Hard Scythes, I and Margrave Grufen met and destroyed an Alliance force of over one hundred banners. Those we were able to take prisoner were escorted here, for me to deal with later.”

  The Orc’s eyes went very wide, and he was not alone. A Goblin from the Blackleafs stood next. “Sire, how did the Alliance gain so many troops? Could they have another such force?”

  “The Alliance is currently committing everything they have to their attempts to destroy us. This Army of Heroes was created from their own peasants and was meant to overwhelm us.” Matt shook his head. “They failed, and as a result, many of their leaders fell along with their troops. It is unlikely that they will have the chance to assemble another army like it in the west.”

  A High Imp noblewoman stood. “And in the east, sire?”

  Matt shook his head. “From what I know, Margraves Karve and Morteth still hold, but it is possible that a second such army might appear there. However, the nature of the terrain would allow us to stop it from advancing so easily.” He paused. “It might be easier to accomplish with a larger number of troops, however.”

  There was a brief silence. Then Torth nodded. “Our apologies, sire. This Council has attempted to supply more forces to both you and Lord Morteth, but we have been unable.”

  The Imp turned to glance meaningfully at Cholia. Rather than seeming concerned, the Voice stood without being asked. “As you should know, King Matthew, the freeholders of Redspire are—”

  “Voice Cholia.” Matt tried to rein in his temper. It was not an extremely successful attempt. “Am I to understand that you have been stopping the Council’s attempts to protect our nation?”

  Cholia paused. She glared at him. “The Assembly in Redspire has serious concerns about the manner in which this war is being fought and funded. If those concerns are not heard, I feel it is my duty to stand in opposition.”

  Matt turned his attention to Girtun. “Voice Girtun, do you feel that the freeholders of Redspire are being ignored or mistreated by the measures Lord Torth mentioned?”

  Girtun shook his head. “No, sire. I do not.”

  He turned back to Cholia, who was still glaring at him defiantly. “Voice Cholia, do you have any explicit reasons why you feel otherwise?”

  She lifted her nose slightly. “King Matthew, I must admit that a part of the concerns of the freeholders has to do with your own conduct.”

  Cholia paused. Matt allowed the silence to lay heavy on the room. Then he gestured. “Continue.”

  The Goblin nodded, her voice gathering more confidence and assurance as she spoke. Matt could easily picture her returning to the way she had acted towards the Council in his absence. “Your disregard for your own safety, for the line of succession, and for the traditions of the Kingdom have led to many being uncertain about the leadership of the war, and their own fate if it should fail. To say nothing of the money being wasted on building programs that were unasked for and unneeded in Redspire itself. Unless these concerns are addressed, I’m afraid that my opposition will continue. In fact—”

  “Voice Cholia.” Matt allowed himself a smile. Girtun winced. “Are these reasons in part what led you to demand my presence at Harvesthold?”

  Her eyes narrowed. “Yes, King Matthew. A ruler must address such things, rather than risking themselves on the front lines.”

  Matt let his smile grow a bit more predatory. “Are you aware that those demands nearly led to my assassination, along with Lord Angru of the Hard Scythes?”

  The silence appeared with an almost physical impact this time. He watched the color drain from Cholia’s face, along with some of her gathered confidence. It seemed to take her a moment before she spoke. “No, sire. I did not.”

  “You are fortunate, then, that I anticipated their treachery. In other words, that you were foolish rather than a traitor.” Matt let the words sink in a bit further, as more of her smug demeanor drained away. He waited until she dropped her eyes before he continued. “As for your concerns for my behavior, I will remind you that the role of a Voice of the people is to prevent the abuse of the freeholders. It is not to be used to abuse the Kingdom and hold it ransom for your own opinions. Otherwise, you are no better than the enemies that threaten us, and I would be forced to ask that the Assembly consider a replacement for you—in which case you will lose the protections of your office. Do you understand?”

  Cholia seemed to gather enough of her spine to look up at him and nod. “Yes, sire.”

  Matt nodded. “Good.” He looked around the room and smiled again. “Fortunately, I’ve been informed that I should avoid battle for the foreseeable future, so I will be present to help address any concerns as to how things will be done in the future—and help resolve things as needed.”

  He saw a few of the nobles grin as he said the words. Hopefully, they were just happy to see progress happen, but there was always the possibility they were just enjoying Cholia’s discomfort. Either would work, as long as he could get things running again. Matt glanced around for a moment and then relaxed back on his throne. “Now, feel free to proceed with your debates. I look forward to seeing your efforts on behalf of our Kingdom.”

  After a few hours of debate, Matt had called for the meeting to end.

  The Council had been more than willing to produce measures they hoped would help the war effort. Unfortunately, none of them had really worked. A Red Moon Orc had introduced a request that the Hard Scythe Orcs be compelled to send their troops east to help the war there, but Matt had quietly encouraged the Council to leave those troops there. If the Alterians started becoming more active in opposing him, he wanted the Broken Hills guarded—and if the Sortenmoors somehow fell, it would give him a reserve force he could rely on.

  Then a High Imp noblewoman had asked the Council to consider hiring mercenaries, either from the Coalition or the defeated Nobles Races. It was quickly turned down; several of the nobles didn’t trust any outsiders, which was probably a wise attitude to embrace. A Hard Scythe nobleman had proposed calling on the freeholders to form more groups of Irregulars. Unfortunately, Cholia had spoken up—having recovered slightly—with a reasonable objection. She explained that the freeholders were already occupied with their first crops of the season, and that many of them were struggling to rebuild towns and villages that had been destroyed by the wars against rebels or invaders. Calling on them now would lead to starvation.

  She’d looked anxious speaking up, but Lord Torth had agreed with her, which had seemed to settle her nerves. Given that the High Peaks had been especially hard hit by the war, Torth’s agreement made sense, however, and instead, Torth had proposed that the freeholders be asked for a single tribute of a coin per family, in order to help fund the war and the training of new noble banners. Some of the nobles had grumbled that there weren’t any nobles left to draft to the cause, unless they stripped their Houses down to the bone, but others simply pointed out that it was a part of their duty.

  The debate had gone on for a while, and Cholia had nearly objected before Matt had met her eyes, but the Council had eventually agreed to another tribute from the nobility and the tax on the freeholders. They had meant it as a temporary measure, something to resolve the problems with the budget while they allowed the Kingdom to recover and prepare for the future.

  Stolen novel; please report.

  Matt had left the Council chambers a little frustrated by the result, but the Council hadn’t been wrong about the conclusions they’d reached. At the very least, he’d managed to rein in Cholia’s… enthusiasm. The Council had taken the opportunity to pass a few more appointments and other small measures while he was there, probably relying on him to prevent Cholia from tossing a wrench in things. He’d also proposed a whole host of awards for the soldiers who had fought beside him; Grufen won Defender of the Realm for the second time, Gwelfed, Melren, Balred and Tiridine all gained a new award he called the Merit of Courage, for their parts in bringing down royals and scouting for the battle, and a host of others received Awards of Valor for their part in the fighting. All in all, it had been a productive meeting of the Council. Even if they hadn’t miraculously come up with a way to provide him with a free army, the meeting had been productive.

  In any case, he had one more responsibility to take care of, and then maybe he could rest.

  The camp set up for the prisoners of war was just outside the walls, on the far side of the River Crimson. Nobody had trusted the defeated Alliance troops enough to let them stay inside of Redspire, and no one had wanted to place them next to the tent city that had sprung up outside of Redspire’s southern walls, so the defeated enemy soldiers had been banished to a camp guarded by his troops across the bridge.

  Despite their situation, Matt was still in awe of the camp as he approached it. There were nearly as many enemy soldiers here as there were civilians camped outside of Redspire. If they had any weapons, even without commanders or generals, they could do a fair bit of damage to the capital of his Kingdom. He’d been sure to emphasize that fact to the banners of the Crown Guard and Irregulars assigned to watch them. The last thing he needed now was some kind of prison riot.

  Matt shifted in Nelson’s saddle as he approached the outer edges of the camp. His wounds had gotten a little more rest that day, but he was already feeling tired and beaten down from the triumphant arrival, the process of finding places to stay for the new Humans that had come with him, and the long, drawn out Council meeting afterward. Yet he knew that the longer he waited to make this decision, the worse it would be. Better now than later.

  When he arrived, the enemy troops had been gathered on one side of the road to wait for him, where a hill formed a kind of natural amphitheater. There were ranks upon ranks of them, all arranged in the banners that they had followed into battle, and even though they were unarmed, his lifeguards studied them uneasily. They didn’t need to have worried, however. Most of the Knights and Dwarves facing him were too tired and despairing to consider regicide at the moment. At least, that was Matt’s impression as he looked them over.

  Some considerate person had erected a podium for him, one that would allow him to look out across the thousands of people staring back at him. He wondered how many of them would actually be able to hear his voice and shook his head. There would likely be plenty of them asking questions afterward, but he’d need to talk as loudly and clearly as he could.

  Fortunately, he didn’t have that much to say.

  He waited until they had all calmed down and then raised his voice. “Soldiers of the Alliance. I have come to offer you a choice. I’ll be honest with you. It isn’t a choice between good options. Yet it is a better chance than you had when you lifted your swords against me and my people.”

  Matt paused. He waited as his words were repeated to those out of earshot, then continued. “Your leaders have made the decisions that put you here. It is them that I hold responsible. For that reason, I would offer you the chance to take parole.” As the words were repeated back, he continued in an even voice. “Parole means you can go home, so long as you swear an oath that you will never fight against me or my people again.”

  He paused again, waiting for the message to be passed. There was shock and hope on the faces of the nearest Alliance soldiers to him as he continued. “Unfortunately, I do not know if I should give you that option. Not because I do not trust your words, or believe you would harm us, but because your rulers have done something unthinkable. Something that would force them to make you break your oaths and come against us again. If that happened, I could not afford to be so merciful a second time.”

  When Matt came to a stop, he saw one Knight struggling to his feet. The woman had been wounded in the leg, and a crude bandage was wrapped around her thigh. “What have they done, aside from fighting against you? Is that so unthinkable, Tyrant of Iron?”

  Some of Matt’s lifeguards stepped forward, but he stopped them with a gesture. He spoke up again. “One of you has asked what your rulers have done. They have sworn themselves to kill me, no matter the cost. It is a spell they call an Oath of Enmity.”

  He heard some of his troops, stationed around the edges, suddenly stir with shock. The horror on the faces of the Alliance troops in front of him as the news swept through their ranks told him they knew what it was. Matt shook his head and continued. “Whatever their personal honor, they may not be able to help themselves anymore. When you tell them you swore yourselves to peace, they may kill you instead of letting you go back to your homes. If you surrender to their goals, and you fight us again, I will have to kill you as oathbreakers. I do not want to condemn you to death, by my hands, or by theirs, especially if sending you home will kill more of my people.”

  Matt paused. “As a result, those of you who choose parole must be bound by more than an oath. It must be a magical one, to make sure you cannot return to fight us. I wish it were otherwise, but it is the price you would need to pay.”

  He’d already consulted with Melren and some of the other mages in the city. It would be an expensive, drawn-out process, but at least he wouldn’t have to face fifty banners of people he’d just paroled on some other battlefield.

  Another prisoner, a Dwarf this time, spoke up. “And if we do not trust your mages, Tyrant?”

  Matt nodded. “Another of you asks what other options you have. You may also stay here, as prisoners, in the Tower of Penance or whatever other jails I can provide. You will be fed with whatever we can provide, but given our state of war, it would be the last and worst of the food we have available. Many of you will be in cramped conditions, or kept in tents like these, through storm and flood alike. I wish we had the chance to provide more, but I will not starve my people to feed you, when it is your kings and queens that burn our fields and kill our people. Once the war ends, maybe we will be able to return you to your homes.”

  He waited for the words to be repeated, and then spoke again, grateful that his brief discussion with Paralus had given him one more option. “There is one last option. The Order of the Bear has volunteered to accept those of you who choose exile rather than parole. You would be sent to their lands in the west, where you would swear to them, and be their servants. I do not know if you would ever be able to see your homes again, and you would need to begin again there.”

  As the words went out, Matt waited. He heard some of the prisoners murmuring, and he deliberately tried to ignore what they were saying. There was probably going to be plenty of debate over what they needed to do, and few of them would make their choices now. Trying to guess which of them would decide whichever way was pointless.

  When he saw the last of them hear the news, Matt nodded. “Those will be your choices. You have until tomorrow to make them. Those who are going to exile or parole will be organized and will leave, under guard, the day after. Those who choose prison will begin their stay here immediately. When you have made your choices, please inform the warriors who guard you. May fortune guide you to wiser paths.”

  Matt stepped away, even as the murmuring built among the prisoners. Some of them looked panicked; others were simply confused. As he turned to his lifeguards, however, one of the Knights abruptly stood. “Wait! You aren’t going to have us choose to be your serfs?”

  He paused and looked back at her. An expectant silence spread. “No. One of you has asked if I will make you serfs. I will not. There are many who still serve in such a way, but many more of my people are free. They choose their own paths. I do not want any more serfs in my Kingdom, and I do not want you to add to their number.”

  Another Knight rose, his expression exasperated. “There are some Knights among you! I saw them, fighting with magic! If you don’t take any serfs, what are they?”

  Matt winced. Apparently, Melren’s students had stood out a little more than he’d thought. “The Knights who fought among us were peasants like you. Before the battle, they swore an oath to fight for the Kingdom of Iron. As a result, they and their families have been given the rights of freeholders.”

  One of the Dwarves scoffed. “So all we need to do is betray our homeland, and you’ll give us freedom?”

  “It sounds like our homeland has betrayed us, Dwarf!” The Knight who was shouting now was shrill with disbelief. “An Oath of Enmity? Are they asking the gods to destroy us?”

  Another Knight rose and stared back at them. “It won’t be the royals you’re killing, now will it? Just more peasants like us, caught in the middle of two grindstones. Are you going to go to war against your own village? Burn the crops you planted for your wife?”

  More murmurs swept through the crowd as arguments broke out among the prisoners. Matt watched them for a moment, hoping it would die down again. It didn’t. He sighed and stepped back to the podium.

  “The option for you to become freeholders is possible, but it would be two years of service. I would send you into danger. Most likely, I would not send you against your homelands, both because I am not cruel and because I do not know if I trust you that far. Instead, you’d be sent to fight the members of the Alliance who have invaded us in the east.”

  One of the Dwarves laughed. “You mean against those Elves? I’d sign up for that!”

  “Those are our allies, you cur!”

  The Dwarf laughed again, shaking his head at the Knight who’d protested. “Fat lot of good they’ve done us, sitting on their Orc servants. Damn the lot of them.”

  More arguments were breaking out, and Matt sensed that things were getting out of control. He held up his hands and spoke as loud as he could. “If you fight amongst each other, you are only going to hurt yourselves!” Some of the arguments died mid-word, and he let as much fire and steel leak into his voice as he could when they looked at him. “The last option you all have is to fight and riot and end up solving my problem by killing each other, or having my troops kill you. I do not want to execute any of you—but if it becomes necessary, I will do it. I will not hesitate.”

  Stillness swept out across the prisoners, and some of the most belligerent arguments faded away. Matt waited until order had been restored, and then he continued. “Each of you will decide for yourselves. Again, you have until tomorrow. If I find any of you dead, for any reason, the murderer will be found and killed. I didn’t spare your lives just to throw them away over this. Choose well.”

  Without waiting for another question, Matt stepped away from the podium and headed back to where Nelson was waiting for him. Behind him, he heard the murmur of conversation begin again, but much more subdued this time. He wondered how many of them would choose each option; privately, he doubted that many would choose to join the Kingdom against their own allies and homes. All the same, any who did would be helpful, and those who didn’t would at least be gone without having to spill their blood.

  He still had a lot to do, but at least he would have some time without being buried in arguments. That thought brought him some relief as he returned to Redspire, already thinking of everything else he needed to do.