III:III
The Pieces are in
Motion
“That’s preposterous!” Beren nearly barked.
“Is it so? They have the ear of every merchant this side of the Wyvern. Surely
you can see that an alliance with their house is worth—“
“They’re useless! Merchantmen who have supported Lord Dante on many occasions!”
“And they would make powerful allies while simultaneously emptying the coffers
of Lord Valnor and his ilk. Surely you can see that in a war of attrition, the
best course of action is to bleed their supply.”
“I have no intention of making this a ‘war of attrition’. Blast it all, you’re
beginning to sound like that wicked witch!” Beren spat.
Valeaus could only smile in response. “My lord, I shall take that as a
compliment. Rhea is wise, powerful, and far more intelligent than you or I.”
Beren responded with a “harrumph!” and sat with his chin resting on his fist to
think. Valeaus decided not to prod the lion any further, and left him to his
thoughts. He knew that Beren was not a stupid man, but he was extremely brash
and liable to rush into something that he was not wholly prepared for. All the
cards of the midlunds rested in this man’s hands—if he tipped his hand too
soon, it would mean spell chaos for the region.
When Beren next spoke, it was with far more calm and thoughtfulness than
before. “If I do not act quickly, then Valnor will discover that my banners
have been called and that they march north. No amount of bewitching from Rhea
will stop that information from reaching his ears!”
“That is so,” Valeaus agreed.
“My strength lies in my numbers and my arms of war. The northern armies now lay
ruined. They are weaker than ever.”
“Also true.”
“Valnor is vulnerable. He mourns for his father and Jaden has no power over the
northerners.”
“Again, very astute my lord.”
Beren began to show his annoyance. “Then why, in the nine hells, am I to wait
in the southlunds while I woo some damnable merchants!”
“Because, my lord,” Valeaus explained calmly, “You do not have the support of
the Court. Lord Valnor does. You move against him now, you move against the
might of Westra.”
Beren was cowed somewhat, but he would not be deterred. “I do not care about
Dragonfell. I have the might of lower Conrath, and the greatest army ever seen
since King Daniel called the banners during the Ogre Campaigns. Why should I
fear some squabbling delegates?”
“Because those squabbling delegates are not merely fashionable ladies and
pompous men, my lord. They are the people of Westra. Try as you might, you
cannot hope to rule the lower lands by ignoring her people. You may defeat
lords, knights, and armies, but you cannot defeat a people. They are the true
might of Westra, my lord.”
When Beren hesitated, Valeaus pressed on. “The people of Westra are starving,
they are restless, and they are in need of leadership, my lord. You can offer
that to them. The only power that these nobles have over them now is held up by
the strength of their coffers. Bleed them dry, and the people will have no one
to turn to but you. Strike at their leadership now, then they will rally their
troops, their wealth, and the spirit of their people at you. Wait until the
people have overthrown their leaders, and you will have won a war without ever
swinging a sword.”
Beren was silent for a long while to consider Valeaus’s words. Finally, he
simply snorted in disapproval. “You Dragonfell types are all backstabbing
liars, you know that? You rob honorable men like me of the days when we could
look at our enemy in the eye and fight him like a true warrior.”
Valeaus nodded in agreement.
“Alright, ranger. Tell me your plan. I warn you, though—if I do not favor the
end result, then Rhea will be the least of your worries.”