JP Koenig
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Chapter 21 - Interlude I - The Grandest of Ambitions
🕑 Added 2025-03-19 00:01:01 +0000 UTC"Nothing is more perilous for a ruler than being incompetent, for it invites the derision of his enemies and the scorn of his subjects."
- Puck the Jester, before the basque King Mario Bedua’s military loss to an inferior force
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Nothing had gone according to plan.
Hallfred paced his office, a scant handful of days after the disastrous funeral feast for the late Jarl. He’d planned everything so perfectly. Jarl Arni had been sick already from some winter illness or another, so the poison he’d slipped into the Jarl’s drinking horn had gone unnoticed and undetected. The mercenaries he’d sent to slay the boy were hardened men who’d all been seasoned in viking raids in the past. He’d been saddened at the horrible end the Lady Solveig would suffer from those raiders, for he’d no doubt they’d enjoy her endlessly before killing her.
“Would have served her right,” he mumbled as he rationalized his decisions to himself once again. She should have married me, he thought. I made a good offer to her father.
But somehow, an archmage had literally appeared out of thin air just in time to save them, and everything had gone awry since. The gods themselves were cursing his luck.
“Lord Sheriff, ruminating over the past is hardly conducive to resolving your conflicts,” chided the fat mage lounging in an armchair by the hearth in Hallfred’s office. The mage’s chubby fingers were festooned with gaudy rings and greasy from the chicken leg in his hand. He noisily took another bite, before talking around a mouthful of food. “Rather, we should be discussing how best to proceed from here.”
“Oh really?” said Hallfred venomously as he spun in his tracks to glare at the man. “And tell me, dear Gundovald, why should I continue heeding your counsel? I have been so successful in my ambitions with your help, after all.”
“The whims of fate are fickle, and only the Norns can see what may come to pass. Do remember, Sheriff, that without the backing of the Obsidian Enclave, your writ from King Ivar the Old would never have happened. We’ve invested heavily in your success here.”
“Do not fool yourself, magus. Your Enclave stands to benefit heavily with another friendly Jarl in the King’s court. My success does not require your help. Push me too far, and the Obsidian Enclave will instead make a new enemy,” snarled Hallfred.
“Calm yourself, dear Sheriff,” said Gundovald, unperturbed by the Sheriff’s outburst. “Threats do not become you, nor is the Enclave so toothless as you proclaim. Your precious writ can be retracted just as easily.”
“And will be, as soon as the weather clears enough for the boy, Gunther, to send a message to the King himself. The Jarls in court will back his succession, for none of them want the King to dictate who their heirs are either. Can’t have the precedent, after all.”
“Hmm, you’re not wrong,” conceded the magus as he finished sucking the last fragments of flesh from the chicken bone. He dropped the bone carelessly on the platter beside him, and fastidiously cleansed the grease from his fingers with a towel before he poured a cup of wine from a flagon. He pointed at the cup, but Hallfred waved away the silent offer. “This does put a time limit on our goal. Perhaps we can woo the archmage away from the young man’s cause. Without that added protection, he is much more vulnerable.”
“Hmph. Another magus to pamper? Seems hardly worth the effort.”
“If Lord Taliesin truly is an archmage - and he might be, based off the strange magic I sensed the other day - then you would do well to win his favor. Archmages are powerful allies and equally terrible foes. They do tend to be fickle, which works in our favor. My spies tell me he is already considering leaving Buverik in the spring.”
“And by Spring it will be too late! The boy will travel to the King’s court and be beyond our reach.”
“Well, if the archmage refuses, we can always set Ulfgrim upon him.”
“Do you think the brute can succeed in killing him?” Hallfred asked, unconvinced.
“I think that Ulfgrim is desperate for my help, and will do whatever we demand of him.”
A timid knock at the door to Hallfred’s private quarters interrupted them, and turned the Sheriff’s already black mood even blacker.
“What is it?” he yelled at the door.
“Captain Hrodi is requesting an audience, sir,” came the voice of a maid through the wood.
“That traitorous bastard,” snarled Hallfred. Gundovar gave him a look. “Yes, yes, I know, we need to win him back to our side. I’ll be calm.”
“Then I’ll take my leave,” said the fat mage as he lurched forward to get out of the chair. He left his platter behind and walked out of the room. “Don’t anger him, we need him.”
Hallfred took a moment to take a breath and soothe his own anger. The damned mage was right. He did need the Captain for now. As soon as he was Jarl, however, both the traitor and that obnoxious magus were both doomed. The thought helped calm his rage enough that he felt he could make it through the meeting.
A loud knock at the door announced the arrival of the captain of the town’s militia. After the Sheriff bid him to enter, Captain Hrodi strode into the room confidently.
“Did anyone see you come here?” asked the Sheriff.
"No. And I want it to stay that way. Our connection has caused enough problems already." There was no venom in his words. Instead, Hrodi sighed. “The Jarl has already re-organized funds for the militia. The extra stipends the old Jarl wrote in for you have been stricken. You're lucky they haven't tied it back to you already.”
“Wait, he can’t do that! We’ve already made promises! Do you know how expensive it is to buy loyalty in the King’s court?”
Captain Hrodi looked unimpressed. “Listen, Sheriff. The new Jarl is young and energetic. He’s not going to let coins slip from his purse as easily as Jarl Arni did. Besides, with a new Jarl in charge, things should improve on their own. I’m only here as one last favor.”
“So you have the nerve to walk into my home and tell me to my face that not only are you a disloyal jackal, but that you are no longer going to give me what is my due?” snarled Hallfred. “You’d better find a way to pay that stipend, Hrodi.”
The captain stiffened. “Listen here, Hallfred, I agreed to help you because the old Jarl was letting everything slip. The defenses were going to shit, and you were my only recourse to protect the town. My duty is to Buverik, not to your ambitions.”
Hallfred stormed over to the captain. “You backstabbing lickspittle! You swore allegiance to me! Just because that boy decided to toss a chewed up bone to your clan, you stab me in the back. You need to reconsider your path, Hrodi. I can do more for your clan than Gunther ever could, but if you defy me now, you will regret it.”
“You’re a self-righteous ass!” shouted Hrodi as he jabbed a finger at the Sheriff. “I did what was necessary for the town, and to protect my clan. The new Jarl has already done what you promised to do, so why do I need you? But it was never about protecting the town, was it? You lied to me all along, just so you can make a grab for power!” A furious look came over the captain. “Wait… the bandit attack on Jarl Gunther and his mother… that happened right as Jarl Arni died... Did you? You didn’t!”
Hallfred’s heart leapt into his throat. Of all people, if the Captain of the militia decided to turn on him publicly, he’d be ruined. “Of course not, you dunce! You’ve some nerve making wild accusations like that!”
“I never noticed what a snake you truly are! The new Jarl has made great strides towards doing all you promised, and I fully support him. You keep talking of loyalty, but where is yours? I’ll be sure to tell the Jarl he’d best be auditing the rents and taxes this year!”
The Sheriff’s face reddened, then smoothed out into an unnatural calm. “You know, Captain, I do believe I owe you an apology. I’ve been out of sorts since Jarl Arni’s passing. I served him a long time, and grief has been getting the better of me. Can you forgive my temper?”
Captain Hrodi looked ready to continue bickering as the Sheriff stuck out his hand. He looked at it for a long moment before reluctantly extending his own. “I suppose not, Hallfred. We’ve been friends for some time. I can forget the harsh words if you can. Let’s put this behind us, for the good of Buverik.”
The Sheriff grasped Hrodi about the wrist in a warrior’s handshake, and patted Hrodi on the back. In a voice that was deadly calm he said, “It’s only fair, then, for me to tell you that once you’re dead, I’ll make sure your family and clan pays for every slight you give me.”
Hrodi jerked at the threat, but Hallfred tightened his grip strength far beyond the militia captain’s. His passive gains from his Strength Forging lent him power far above a normal man, despite his comprehension being fairly shallow. Then just as Hrodi was about to shout in outrage at the attack, Hallfred called on his Second Forging.
“<Shatter>.”
Divine power rolled from Hallfred’s left hand where he had pressed it against Hrodi’s side. It ebbed and flowed in a destructive wave of power, as unstoppable as the ocean. The shockwave violently liquified Hrodi’s organs before they splintered his spine. Unarmored and unprepared, the militia captain collapsed to the rug.
"It would seem you have forgotten how I came to this position in the first place. I tried to do what was best for this town, but that doesn't mean I won't just take it if I have to."
Hrodi stared at the sheriff in shock as blood bubbled from his mouth. Words formed on his lips but he couldn’t draw breath to speak them. Hrodi began to twitch violently before he gave one last keening, rattling noise.
A rush of satisfaction hit Hallfred and he smiled in pleasure while Hrodi drowned in his own blood. Finally, after all these long nights of brooding, he’d been able to strike at his enemies. The sniveling traitor was dead. He would have to be sure to keep his promise. Hrodi had a wife and two sons, both in the militia. They’d be next. Then his clan… oh no, Hrodi’s clan, he thought as his blood ran cold. I’ll have to make sure this can’t be tracked back to me.
It was one thing to make threats towards them when he was facing a single foe, no matter how powerful he was. Hrodi was a respected man, a senior member of the Windrime Clan, and that clan was one of the largest in town. Worse, a large number of the clansmen were in the militia, and would know he was missing by sunrise.
“Knock, knock! I heard loud voices, and came to see if cooler heads had finally… prevailed…” Gundovald’s voice trailed off as he stepped into the room uninvited. “Is he… did you… you fool!”
Gundovald stormed into the room and shut the door behind him. He looked down at the dead captain and back up at the Sheriff. “You know that every Windrime clansman from here to Roskilde will howl for your blood! This is no simple peasant, you can’t just pay weregild and walk away!”
“I know, I know,” said Hallfred as he paced back and forth. Then he stopped. “Unless we make this the boy’s problem.”
Gundovald blinked at the Sheriff owlishly, then gave a fleshy grin. “I like how your mind works, dear Sheriff. We’ll dump the body right in the garden of the Jarl’s manor.”
“Don’t use my usual retainers. Use the brute. He’s strong enough, and you have leverage over him to force his silence,” said Hallfred. Then absently, he added, “and hit the body with a few fireballs, just enough to burn the skin a little.”
“Why? He’s already dead. I can’t kill him again.”
“We need the archmage on our side, or we’ll find a host of new enemies to fight against us. If he switches sides, we just tell the Windrime Clan that the Gunther boy tried to burn the body to hide it but failed.”
“And if Lord Taliesin stays at Gunther’s side?” asked the fat mage.
“Then poor Hrodi was obviously a victim of the archmage’s terrible fire magics. And it would be a shame if a Windrime warrior cut him down in revenge…”
Comments
андрей ткач
Thanks for the chapter!
Aaron Greene
Wow, what an idiot. And not even checking on an Archmage's abilities. Forshame.
