Richard Tuttle - Aakuta - the Dark Mage

“They are,” shrugged Brakas. “Do you really need a hundred thousand men to expand your influence? Most estates in Khadora have armies of five hundred men. You need but a fraction of the Jiadin to expand beyond your wildest dreams.”

“Be careful what you imagine my dreams to be,” retorted Lord Samert. “What are you proposing?”

Brakas gazed at the marshal as he spoke, “How many men would you need to crush your neighbors?”

“Our army is strong,” the marshal replied after a moment of hesitation “Still, we could use a few hundred good men. Are you proposing to supply us with mercenaries?”

“In a manner of speaking,” Brakas replied. “Although I suppose that I think on a grander scale than you do. I can supply you with five thousand warriors.”

“Five thousand?” gasped Lord Samert. “We could never afford them.”

“But you can,” Brakas replied swiftly. “They will cost you nothing.”

“Nothing?” echoed the marshal with unconcealed suspicion. “What is your game?”

“My men will only take a share of the spoils,” Brakas smiled innocently. “With five thousand men, you can expand well beyond your borders. Khadora is a rich country, and Fakara is very poor. A small share of Khadoran spoils will appear as a king’s ransom in Fakara. Thus, my men will actually cost you nothing.”

“There is merit to this plan,” mused Lord Samert. “With five thousand men, only the largest of clans would dare oppose us, and we can be careful not to give them cause to intercede.”

“Why the Vessi clan?” questioned Marshal Ednardo. “Why have you chosen to present this offer to us?”

“Actually,” smiled Brakas, “I am offering it to each of Grulak’s allies. The Glamaraldi and the Lejune will have similar offers.”

“So you will be sending fifteen thousand men into Khadora to bring home spoils to you?” asked the lord.

“Precisely,” nodded Brakas. “I will get a small portion of each man’s take. When you are through with my men, we will have enough to found a new Fakara, and you will be powerful lords of Khadora. Everybody wins with this plan.”

“Except those we destroy,” smirked Lord Samert.

“And destroy them we must,” warned Marshal Ednardo. “The families of the controlling lords must be annihilated completely. There can be nobody left to file a grievance with the Lords’ Council. If no grievance is filed, then it remains a private affair between two clans.”

“Then some clans will have to cease to exist,” grinned Lord Samert. “There will be a problem if anyone notices Jiadin in our ranks though.”

“They will not be identifiable as Jiadin,” declared Brakas. “You are to make up Vessi uniforms for all five thousand of them. That is the safest way to proceed.”

“I agree,” nodded the marshal. “They will be Vessi soldiers and they will take commands from me. You will have no control over these men, Brakas. Is that understood?”

“Completely,” smiled Brakas. “I do not even wish to visit them. They are yours until you no longer need them, as long as I get what is due me from the spoils.”

“So it shall be,” Lord Samert decided as he rose. “When can we expect these men?”

“I will start sending them tomorrow,” answered Brakas. “You had best order uniforms to be made quickly.”

Marshal Ednardo escorted the two Fakarans out of the mansion and watched them leave the estate. Brakas grinned broadly as soon as they were off the Vessi lands.

“That was easy,” laughed Brakas. “I hope the other two clans are as easy.”

“They will be,” remarked Zygor. “You did well in there, Brakas. How those fools think they can control five thousand of our men is beyond me, but you were correct in your analysis. Their greed blinds them to the danger. Are you sure that our men will respond when the signal is given?”

“To a man,” Brakas nodded vigorously. “There is no love of Khadorans among our men. When we choose to take over the host clans, it will be easily accomplished.”

“Excellent,” smirked Zygor. “Let us put these other two clans in order so that I may search out my new host. We will accomplish more with twenty thousand men than Grulak had hoped for with his hundred thousand.”

Lord Marak anxiously eyed the loading of the caravan wagons. He noticed that the escorts for the caravan appeared nervous, although they were subdued enough in their emotions that a casual observer would not notice. The Torak lord sighed anxiously as he mounted the steps to the mansion in Fardale and moved swiftly to the office of Lord Marshal Yenga. Yenga’s back was to the door as he studied a large wall map. Lord Marak cleared his throat intentionally as he entered. Lord Marshal Yenga turned promptly and yet calmly.

“Has the air tunnel spying revealed anything about Lord Quavry’s interest in the departing caravan?” Marak asked.

“Nothing at all,” answered Yenga. “Our mage reports that Lord Quavry holds his talk behind closed doors. The air tunnel is not effective in that situation.”

“So we may be sending this caravan to its doom with no better information than we had the last time,” sighed Lord Marak.

“Not true,” smiled Yenga. “First, we know approximately where we will be attacked. Second, our troops will be wearing Qubari armor. They will not be killed easily and without retribution this time.”

“Still, it would have been good to put this treachery behind us before the meeting of the Assembly of Lords,” frowned Lord Marak. “I will be leaving in the morning.”

“This business with Lord Quavry is not finished,” declared Yenga. “Marshal Patoga and Seneschal Shamino are waiting to see you. Talk to them before you make plans for your trip.”

“The Sorgan marshal and seneschal?” questioned Lord Marak. “Do you know what this is about?”

“Basically,” nodded Yenga, “but I requested that the information be delivered directly to you. I would like to be present if I may.”

“By all means,” Marak nodded. “Where are they?”

“In the meeting room,” replied Yenga.

Lord Marak pivoted and strode out of the office and into the meeting room across the corridor. Lord Marshal Yenga followed him and closed the door when they had entered the room. Marshal Patoga saluted smartly as the Lord of the Torak Clan entered the room, and Seneschal Shamino rose and bowed

“I understand that you have need to discuss things with me,” Lord Marak said as he sat at the head of the table. Please be seated and begin.”

“I fear that I may be making more out of this than I should,” frowned Seneschal Shamino, “but when I mentioned my concerns to Marshal Patoga, he demanded that I come to Fardale and speak with Lord Marshal Yenga. The Lord Marshal demanded that I speak to you. I do hope that I am not wasting your valuable time.”

“My time is always available for my people,” stated Lord Marak, “from my lord marshal to the lowest of laborers. Please tell me what is troubling you.”

“I must admit to some bias in the telling of my tale,” declared Seneschal Shamino. “Ever since the day you came to Watula Valley and ordered Vows of Service be given to you, I have felt that Lord Quavry plans to break them. He has never openly spoke ill of you, but his mannerisms speak otherwise.”

“You should have brought this to my attention immediately,” interrupted Lord Marak. “I wish to know about anyone who does not take his Vows seriously.”

“Understood,” nodded the seneschal as perspiration began to form upon his brow, “but there is really nothing to report. It is only a feeling, and I am hesitant to condemn a man with only my perceptions. In fact, I did not speak to Marshal Patoga with thoughts of condemning Lord Quavry. I merely expressed concerns with what I saw as aberrant behavior.”