Politics of War

Politics of War

                Ovidden was a rich town, and its Baroness one of the wealthier nobles within Dafer. Along with the other baronies that bordered the western part of the Forest of the Caged it was the closest safe source of wood for not only Dafer but also Merisomet, Faron, and even the western reaches of Mechanis (which lay quite far to the east). Even amongst those, Ovidden had an additional bounty: mines in the hills bore all the required metals to make good steel.

                It was because of this that the Barony of Ovidden was able to spare the peasantry from working the farmland so that they could be trained in large numbers as soldiers. Wise planning on the part of the Baroness had Sable make her way between the villages that dotted the barony's lands, training each group several times each week according to a remarkably complicated schedule. Sable's drive for revenge made her truly appreciate the efficiency squeezed out of the arrangement.

                The day she rode into Ovidden was one of those she spent performing her 'duties', so far as records were concerned. In fact, finding a mage in the forest and bringing him to Ovidden was the kind of thing those spying upon the records would expect to hear. That she spent her (rather significant) free time training peasants would surprise them.

                The riches of Ovidden were hidden, not overt, to prevent jealousy on the part of the Baroness's liege count. Some of the best craftspeople in all of Dafer called Ovidden home, and the Baroness's vaults were ever full despite the large voluntary 'donations' she sent to her liege regularly. The people would feast well - not royally, no, but all in the barony would feast rather than just those who lived in Ovidden itself. The wall surrounding the town was made of thick, heavy stone hauled from a strange (and undeclared) location - it had, the Baroness confided in Sable, cost vastly more than even the highest estimates made by her guests.

                With its riches hidden, only the strange dark-green colour of the walls hinted at Ovidden being anything more than an ordinary (if prosperous) town. Sable knew better, of course, and sighed when Seth said loudly, "I thought you said this place was rich?"

                Sable stopped her horse, and laid her hand over the eyes of Seth's mount to stop it as well. "As I also said, it has hidden wealth. Keep your mouth shut from now until we are in the presence of the baroness - or better, in the presence of the liaison," Sable said.

                "Alright," said Seth, resignedly.

                Sable gently nudged her mount into motion, and Seth let his follow, down the rest of the road, through the gates, and into Ovidden proper.

                Ovidden Keep was as much an example of hidden wealth as Ovidden itself. Built of the same slightly green stone as the walls, it was a masterpiece of engineering. Despite the obvious skill in its creation, it was sparsely decorated and showed prosperity rather than true riches. Yet those of keen wit would notice the large number of staff bustling about - far more than most other strongholds. And if one listened to rumours, you would hear that the staff was paid far better than most as well.

                Seth was no fool, and picked up on these facts - as well as much else about Ovidden. "I'll admit that you're right about the money," he said to Sable as they made their way to the Baroness's office.

                "Thanks for that. Now listen: if you step out of line while we're talking to the Baroness - or the liaison - I'll haul you off myself," said Sable.

                Seth looked at Sable, noting that she was both taller and broader than he was. "Alright," he said.

                "Refer to the Baroness as 'your grace' and the liaison as Sir Greg at all times. Curtsy with your robe when I bow. Greg may agree to let you call him by his name alone, but do not take the initiative. When you need to mention me, refer to me as Baronetess-In-Exile Sable the first time and Sable or Dame Sable thereafter. And do not speak out of turn," ordered Sable.

                "Alright - but, um, curtsy?" asked Seth.

                "You're wearing a robe. Curtsy," replied Sable, drawing to a stop in front of an ornate wood door. She knocked upon it politely and said quietly to Seth, "We're here."

                "Who is it?" came a harried voice from inside the room.

                "Sable, your grace," replied Sable. "I have brought a prisoner from the Forest of the Caged."

                "A what? Come in, bring the prisoner in with you," came the voice.

                Sable opened the door and led Seth inside. Opposite the doorway and behind a great wood desk sat the baroness of Ovidden: Helene. Her brown hair was done up in a bun behind her head, and she wore a comfortable looking pale blue shirt and long deep blue skirt. She was looked to be roughly fifty years old, and Seth got the immediate impression that she was very, very shrewd. A fireplace to the left of the entrance provided warmth to the room, and bookshelves filled with records skirted the rest of the walls.

                Sable led Seth up to the desk and bowed, prompting him to (quite poorly) curtsy beside her. "Is there a reason this fellow is neither dead or in the lockup?" Helene asked.

                "Yes, your grace. He has abilities that may be of use to the war effort," responded Sable.

                "I see," responded Helene. "What are they?"

                Sable motioned for Seth to speak. "Primarily I am capable of enchantments, uh, your grace, although lasting effects take me longer. I am also a fairly experienced battle mage, through the use of short term enchantments. And finally, I mimic part of any magic used upon me, most often with the effect of cancelling or resisting part of it. My name is Seth, by the way," he said.

                "I don't care for your name. But your claims certainly make you sound of use. And you are willing to aid our 'war effort'?" asked Helene.

                "Yes, your grace, for suitable recompense," answered Seth.

                "Very well. I will send for Greg - you are lucky he is still here, Seth, as late word has come that the trainers are on their way. Sable, take him to the second meeting room and wait for Greg therein," commanded Helene.

                "Yes, your grace," responded Sable, bowing. Seth curtsied, and the pair made their way out of the Baroness's chambers. As they walked, they faintly heard the ringing of a bell - the Baroness summoning a servant to dispatch.

                The second meeting room was mostly occupied by a square table, with room for about three per side. It was intended for smaller meetings of only a few, and apart from a green tablecloth laid over the table and a single window opposite the door it was completely without adornment.

                "Comfy," said Seth, walking around the table to take a seat by the window.

                Sable said nothing, instead walking to the window sill and peering out.

                "How long will it take for the liaison to arrive?" asked Seth.

                "Not long. He'll probably be nearby, although if we have managed to arrive at the same time as the other instructors he may be delayed," replied Sable.

                "Have you met them before? And if you're training the peasants to be heavy infantry, do these guys do other things? Light infantry? Archers?" asked Seth.

                "You can ask them yourself. Inquiring did not seem necessary to me," responded Sable. She very noticeably began looking out the window, away from Seth.

                "Hmmph. I hope one of them is more fun than you. Although, actually, you're still more fun than that baroness, she didn't even seem to think it odd that I paid my respects! Like hell anyone should expect that from an escaped prisoner from another world," grumbled Seth.

                "I suggest you do not insult her, and consider yourself lucky that I am employed by her and thus not bound to defend her honour. If I was a knight in her service you would be recanting those words," said Sable.

                "Well-" began Seth.

                Sable interrupted him, saying, "I can see the liaison coming in now with the baroness's son. It appears that they've been out riding again. He'll be up shortly, unless they spend too long taking their leave of each other."

                "They - oh, I get it. I guess our liaison fellow will be sad to leave, haha," said Seth amusedly.

                Sable ignored Seth and took a seat beside him. He  started speaking a couple of times as the liaison made his way up, but glares from Sable stopped him. A few minutes passed, and after a brief knock the door opened.

                In the doorframe stood the liaison, Greg. He was a short man, not much more than one hundred and sixty centimetres tall, and he had a bit of a paunch. His chubby, muscle-less build made him look a bit like a retired knight, despite being barely out of his teens. Despite appearances, he was a deft hand with a blade and very capable at making daring escapes (or so he claimed). "Hello there, Dame Sable," he said, entering the room.

                "Sir Greg," replied Sable, nodding her head respectfully.

                "And our mystery guest from the forest. What is your name?" asked Greg, closing the door and taking a seat.

                "Seth," answered Sable, cutting off Seth. "I want to ask you something before we begin: the other instructors are to finally arrive? Two months delay has been ridiculous."

                "Yes, Sable, they are. It should not greatly affect the war effort," responded Greg. "But back to business, Seth, what is it that you have to offer us? The messenger was somewhat short on details I'm afraid."

                "Ah, well, as I told H- the baroness, I am primarily capable of enchantments, though I can utilise short term versions of the same effects for combat. I also tend to mimic, in part, any magical skill that affects me - usually preventing it from taking full effect, but it varies," said Seth.

                "Intriguing. What kind of enchantments are you capable of imbuing?" asked Greg.

                "Enhancing strikes with weapons, fortifying armour, and variations upon that - making weapons and armour light for their user, creating boots allowing great jumps, things of that nature. It does take me some time, a few days per item even for weaker enchantments, but those with such arms will have a great advantage on the battlefield," explained Seth.

                "I see. And your shorter term skills?" asked Greg.

                "Much the same, but imbued quickly and as such they rarely last more than a handful of blows. These speedy enchantments are 'full strength', however, which can be quite intimidating," said Seth.

                "If you would, a demonstration of these skills?" requested Greg.

                Seth smiled and stood up, looking around the room for something to smash. Soon his eyes settled on the table.

                "Don't smash the table," said Sable.

                Greg chuckled. "Oh, if he can smash it I will replace it myself. Ha ha! This table is made from strong, thick wood - quite the test of his skills. You may proceed, Seth," said Greg.

                "Excellent," said Seth. He began looking around for something to smash the table with.

                Sable grabbed one of the adjacent chairs and held it out to Seth. "Here, use this," she said.

                "I thought you didn't want me breaking the table?" asked Seth, taking hold of the chair.

                "Greg is going to replace it, so there will be no trouble for me," replied Sable.

                Seth grinned and laid the chair down on the table. He placed his hands upon each end and closed his eyes. For a short while, nothing happened, but then strange dark shadows began to coalesce around Seth's hands and soon the chair as well. They grew darker and more intense, quickly almost completely obscuring the chair from sight.

                With a soft sigh Seth relaxed his grip on the chair. Much of the shadow disappeared when he did so - almost all seeming to disappear into the chair, though some escaped into the air. Seth opened his eyes and inspected the chair.

                "Not bad," he said. Despite the magic worked into it, the chair seemed to be perfectly ordinary. "You guys might want to take a step back," he continued.

                Sable and Greg stood, stepping back against the walls of the room. With a muttered 'Here we go' Seth picked up the chair and slammed it into the table.

                With a loud, deafening crack the table shattered where Seth hit, breaks immediately running out in all directions from the impact. The chair - completely undamaged - continued through where it had obliterated part of the table and into the floor below. Again, a deafening crack was heard as the chair blasted apart several layers of flooring: the carpet, wood, and part of the stone below.

                "Oh shit!" said Seth, trying to stop the chair but instead merely lifting it slightly and losing hold.

                The chair fell from his grasp back into the hole it had made, blasting another small bit of stone away. Luckily, it did not manage to get through the thick stone floor, and instead settled in the hole.

                Greg let out a hearty laugh and said, "Now that was truly impressive! And I see what you meant by 'unstable'!"

                "Uh, yes," said Seth, somewhat abashed. "Sorry about the floor."

                "So, I wish to know something: can you teach this ability to others?" asked Greg.

                "Huh, oh, ah, probably not, Sir Greg. The magic remains in me from my time spent in other worlds, and I have brought it here with me. But I can tell - from my travels between worlds - that it is not 'natural' here, and thus none here will have the talent in them, or it is at least very unlikely," responded Seth.

                "Hm, yes," muttered Greg, moving forward and inspecting the hole. "There is a similar form of magic in this world that may interest you: the magic of the sigils, which is the natural magic of this world. Its effects are not so pronounced, but legend and some ancient objects show that it is capable of a great many things," said Greg.

                Seth's face lit up. "That does sound very intriguing," he said happily.

                "Seth," said Greg, "Though I cannot promise anything, I am certain that your abilities can aid the war effort. After the trainers that I have long awaited arrive I will discuss you with those who are in charge, and we will consider suitable recompense for your efforts. For now, please remain here and perhaps imbue an item with as much power as you are able to in a month or so - which is how long I shall take, I believe. Perhaps Sable's axe - it is, I understand, an exceptionally high quality piece of equipment."

                "I - You will replace it if he breaks it, Greg?" asked Sable.

                "Of course," replied Greg.

                Sable looked over at Seth and then back to Greg. "Alright," she said.

                "Excellent. The strength of this weapon will determine your recompense, Seth, so I suggest you do the best work you can. Ah! Also, I believe that Ovidden has a skilled sigil-magician in residence; you may want to enquire with them about tomes on sigil magic," said Greg.

                "Thank you, G- Sir Greg, for this opportunity," said Seth, curtsying.

                "Thank you for your time," added Sable, with a bow.

                Greg bowed in return and said, "Thank you both for yours, as well. Sable, the other trainers should be arriving mid-evening, if you would like to be there to greet them. For now, could you assist Seth in getting settled in here? You may tell the baroness that I requested it."

                "Of course," replied Sable.

                Greg nodded in reply, and left the room.

                "So, do we have to clean this up ourselves or do we find a servant or something?" asked Seth, indicating the table.

                Sable sighed. It would be a long month.