A Tyrant, Sort Of

Honestly, Sable couldn’t help but feel conquering Skatikk had been too easy. Of course, she’d accomplished it through the mythically horrible reputation of dragons, and the allusion she’d already razed one major city to the ground—which Skatikk would surely be looking into for confirmation, since they seemed ignorant to it thus far—but still.

Regardless, she was pleased things had worked out without many problems. What would she have done, if they had refused? Obviously, she wouldn’t have followed through. Attacking and killing masses of civilians? Not carrying out her threats would be a detriment to her notoriety, certainly, but for all that she was focused on getting stronger, she had no intentions of going on vengeful massacres.

It was another reason Sable needed to build a reputation. The easiest path forward was to be so feared that she never had to follow through on her threats—because those she leveraged them against would always concede out of sheer terror.

But even that wouldn’t last forever, the realist in her knew.

And what then? Sacrifice her notoriety by revealing her bleeding heart? And in doing so therefore threaten her safety? Because a drop in notoriety would weaken her—or rather, slow her progress down—and soon enough, opponents of some kind would be out to hunt her. Whether to rid themselves of a despot or some other reason, it would happen eventually. So she needed as much strength as possible.

It was a question Sable would discover the answer to only when it came. Likely, the solution would be dependent on the scenario. And ideally she could plan for most situations beforehand. But acting in a way that didn’t revolt against her morals, while also keeping her reputation from being compromised, wasn’t going to be an easy task. A troublesome situation, all around.

But for the short term, things had worked out. She took solace in that. In a short hour of terrorizing a populace and having Aylin run negotiations, Sable had acquired her first city.

Which was crazy. A city. An entire one, filled with—at a rough estimate—several thousand of the short green-skinned creatures. By modern standards, a few thousand people wasn’t much. It might not even qualify as ‘a small town’. But by primitive fantasy world standards? The number was nothing to sneeze at.

And, beyond that, she had also won the sprawling farmland and smaller villages connected to the city, their allegiances sworn to the Bonecracker Tribe. The economic value of thousands people, with a portion of all their efforts feeding into Sable’s hoard. Yes, Sable had chosen this path for a reason. Kingdom stealing would be a lucrative enterprise.

That said, trying to grow too fast—to reach too far beyond her means too quickly—was certain to end in disaster. She wanted to let news of Gadenrock’s fall, and Skatikk’s capture, to spread. Chieftain Kirak would certainly be verifying that claim of hers, and Sable hoped he didn’t discover that it hadn’t been Sable herself that had destroyed it.

That was entirely a gamble; she had no idea what news had spread and where. Skatikk was a fair distance away from Gadenrock, and considered each other hostile territories, so odds were higher that they’d have minimal information on the exact fate of the city. With luck, they’d hear of its destruction and take Sable’s claims at face value. If the truth ever got out, hopefully Sable could already have established herself.

But none of that was guaranteed. She couldn’t do much about what happened, only respond to what did. She had cast the die, and now had to see how it landed.

More importantly than worrying about Skatikk, she needed experience. The normal sort, not the stranger system-linked kind. Experience with this world and its people. Information. What sorts of hurtles would she face? Would the discontent of a captured people lead to revolt? Would Sable’s planned tithes strain them too much, accelerating that process?

And what could Sable do for them? Their success was her own—she needed the city to prosper. And more than that, the only way Sable could justify dominating territories was if she left them off better than they had been before her rule.

So, for now, the plan wasn’t to bully as many cities into compliance as she could. Beyond one of them eventually refusing, she needed to get her feet wet.

And she had other goals, besides. Getting stronger, personally speaking.

Namely, magic.

Now out of the backwoods of Aylin’s home forest—and her spawning point—Sable had access to more information. While she suspected on the grand scale these northern tribes were far from the preeminent forces on the continent—that seemed to be the human kingdoms, the orcs to the north, and the undead to the south—they were many times more organized than Aylin’s clan, the cluttering of wood houses and feeble palisades that had walled them off from the monsters of the forest.

So, through Skatikk, finding a magic tutor ought to be possible.

She had Aylin look into it, naturally. There were a couple of problems. Primarily, that Sable wanted to avoid being taught by a mage closely aligned with Skatikk. If they discovered Sable’s lacking abilities in her primary discipline—a sorceress who didn’t know how to cast—then the idea of revolt might shift from ‘on the horizon’ to, ‘worth a shot, since she’ll never be weaker’.

So Sable wanted a recluse. A mage who Skatikk knew about, and so Sable could be pointed their way, but wasn’t part of their military. How would she go about finding someone like that, if they even existed?

Well, by being cryptic. She had Aylin carry out the conversation on her behalf.

“Lady Sable is seeking a mage,” Aylin said. “Someone dangerous, reclusive, skilled in the arcane arts, and who lives someplace outside your city walls. Do you know of them?”

The leadership shared a collection of confused looks. Eventually, one of them offered: “The Wither Witch?”

“Possibly,” Aylin said, as smooth as ever. For having thought she wouldn’t make a good diplomat—if that title was correct for how Sable had been using her—she was surprisingly effective at the task. Sable wondered, even, if her ‘Dragonsworn Champion’ class was helping. Didn’t Aylin get bonuses when carrying out her will? Did that apply to some charisma stat? Or was she just naturally talented at this, for all she had said she wouldn’t be? “Describe her to me. What branch of magic does she practice?”

“A necromancer,” the man replied. “We’ve employed her services, but she’s dangerous. Temperamental. Our relationships have been transactional. Why is your mistress hunting her?”

“Lady Sable’s business is her own.”

He accepted that. He did seem confused, though. “To my knowledge, she’s committed no crimes while in Bonecracker territory. While difficult, she’s lived amenably and within the confines of our law. We have scouts watching her, and she rarely leaves her cabin. I can’t imagine how she has business with you. Perhaps you’re seeking someone else?” He glanced around at his comrades, but no other suggestions were coming to mind, not fitting the description Aylin had provided. Rogue mages were, obviously, not something in high supply.

“Provide us directions,” Aylin said.

The goblin man frowned at the response. Aylin was much younger than the collected leadership, and they didn’t enjoy being spoken to in such an arrogant manner. A glance upward—to Sable’s circling form—reminded them of their situation, and so the man bit his tongue.

“Very well. Lady Sable’s will shall be done.” He emphasized Sable’s name, making it clear Aylin herself wasn’t the one whose authority had forced them into this. That he was listening to Sable, not her.

Sable found herself mildly annoyed at the disrespect shown to her minion, but it was ultimately irrelevant. She had antagonized this city and its people enough. And, from an objective viewpoint, it was justified. Being ordered around by a young woman barely into adulthood—who had waltzed in and ordered the surrender of their city—had to be aggravating to this clearly hierarchical society.

And, with the conversation completed, a potential tutor found, Sable wanted to be away. She had a Wither Witch to find and a teacher to procure.

It was time she learned the intricacies to her class, and for the title of Frostfire Sorceress to mean something.