Broken Soul

Michael

Michael stood in his stirrups, stretching as he watched the train of horses and carriages approach from the west. They were much more numerous than his own group, which wasn't very surprising when considering that the caravan included two dukes and two counts, plus all the other nobility they had picked up along the way.

Three riders, along with a few guards, split from the approaching throng and came riding toward the road juncture Michael had set up on with his group. His uncle was easy to identify, as was Tara with her red hair, and the other man, from the colors on his tabard, must have been Count Mandale. Michael had seen the count a few times before due to the central spot of his county, but it had been in passing mostly.

"We have to make sure to make a good impression with Lord Mandale," Grur Parak said from his position standing next to Michael's horse. The dark-skinned merchant had insisted on coming with them to the capital when he heard Michael's plans to negotiate some bigger deals with the gathered nobility of the realm.

Grur was Michael's master of trade, but first and foremost, he was a merchant and loved profit, and he smelled a lot of profit to be made here.

Making a good impression on Lord Mandale was obvious. The man held the best-maintained path between the center of the realm and the south and could hamper any trade with tariffs if he wished to do so. It was unlikely in any case.

Lord Grim, Tara, and Lord Mandale came to a trotting halt in front of Michael's horse, and all of them got off their mounts to exchange greetings.

Count Mandale was a big man. Easily dwarfing the count to his side with close to two meters in height, broad shoulders, and a heavy-set body. He didn't look as athletic with his thick limbs and body, but he probably could have picked Lord Grim up like a child.

"Lord Rowan!" the man thundered in a booming voice. "Was sad to hear that I missed you in Greyhold, nearly as sad as missing the war. Such a shame that the savages seem to have no spine as soon as the fight becomes fair."

Michael was happy that he had been warned by Sir Pyke about Lord Mandale's mannerisms, or he probably would have been stunned by the volume. That or he would have instinctively put up a barrier.

"I was also saddened to have to leave so early, but I had some business at home that needed my attention," Michael replied politely. He chose to ignore that ambushing an army at night was hardly a fair fight.

"Understandable. It made me sick to hear what those nobles were up to, and they deserved their fate," the large man said while nodding happily.

"I hope my gift of gratitude has reached you safely and managed to alleviate your disappointment?" Michael asked even though he could see the large blacksteel axe on the count's back.

"Yes, I got it." Count Mandale grabbed the heavy thing from his back and grinned widely. "And what a beauty she is. I normally break my weapons quite quickly and have to make do with what I can scavenge from my enemies, so having a weapon that can take a few blows is very welcome. Got to say I would love to get some more if you are willing to sell."

Michael smiled. Handing out magical weapons as gifts was more than just to foster good relations, it was also great marketing. Grur had come up with that idea to get some of their weapons into circulation to raise the interest in Reen's most valuable merchandise, and the situation in Grent had been a very nice opportunity to do so. Now they had some of their weapons in both the duchy of Regia and Wyrt.

"As you can imagine, such weapons take a lot of time, effort, and skill to produce, so the stock is quite limited." Michael made a theatrical pause before he continued a little hesitantly. "But I am sure we can find a mutually beneficial agreement. A lot of our trade toward into kingdom is flowing through your lands, and I am sure we both desire to foster even more trade."

Count Mandale inspected the younger count for a moment and then grinned. "You are a sneaky one, aren't you? Fine, I am sure we can talk about cutting your merchants some slack on tariffs and tolls."

"Great. With more income, we can expand our production and deliver more arms and armor," Michael explained, and then waved Grur forward. "This is Grur Parak, my master of trade. He will gladly hash out the details for our trade relations."

Lord Mandale looked a little pained at the mention of trade negotiations and then quickly said, "I am sure he will. He can do that once we pick up my master of coin. I am not dealing with the headache that is trade negotiations."

Grur bowed deeply and then stepped back again.

Michael, Tara, Lord Grim, and Lord Mandale chatted for a while longer until the caravan reached them and a rather simple carriage stopped to release Duke Wallsten and Greeich from its bowls.

"It has been a while, Lord Rowan," Duke Greeich greeted him. "Quite the show you put on lately. I am sure the whole kingdom has now become acutely aware of you."

"Glad to see you again, milord. And I wanted to thank you for coming to our aid, even if in the end we managed to solve the situation," Michael returned the greeting with a bow.

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"You should thank the princess for that. She sent us letters about your situation," the duke brushed his thanks off with a genuine smile.

"Mira did?" Michael wondered.

"Aye," Count Mandale said. "Quite strong words she had for us. She never outright told us to come to your aid, but being hit with a fence post would have been more cryptic than that letter."

"We shouldn't forget to thank her highness once we are in the capital, then," Tara said, to which Michael agreed.

"As much as I enjoy this crossing in the road. I would prefer it if we could get back in the carriage. I would like to sit," Duke Wallsten said, leaning heavily on his cane.

"Of course, old friend. We can get moving again, too. The earlier we reach the capital, the better," Duke Greeich said.

Michael, his uncle, Tara, and Lord Mandale remained on horseback while Duke Wallsten and Greeich returned to the carriage.

"How are things with the ransom going?" Michael asked his uncle.

"Somewhat smoothly. The biggest problem has been getting the offer of ransom to the clans. We don't really have established diplomatic channels like with other kingdoms," Lord Grim explained.

"How did you do it, in the end?"

"We picked out the most worthless individuals from the prisoners and sent them with the message to the closest clans. We hope that they will tell their allies, and so the news that we are ransoming the prisoners will spread," Tara took over the explanation. "We already got rid of a good portion of the prisoners we had from the closer clans. It is an advantage that those far away hadn't reached the battlefield in time, so I think we should be able to sell or release the remaining prisoners in a month or two."

Michael was happy that things worked out this well. He had been concerned that the clans might not believe their offer or even try to ambush them at the exchanges, but having a lot of their people in custody seemed to have kept them honest.

"I gotta say I wasn't convinced of that approach and am still not convinced that the gain will outweigh the cost that you will have to pay in the future, but they really seem to bring in the gold," Count Mandale commented.

Michael nodded in agreement. "It isn't surprising that a wife would pay more for her husband than a slaver would for a violent warrior."

"I was more surprised that they could afford it," Lord Grim said. "But from what I gathered, it was the clans in their entirety that put up the cost to regain their lost ones and not just the families. From that point of view, their sense of community is quite admirable."

"Having warriors and hunters is important to everyone. If the clan is weak, then it is open to being attacked or pressured into relinquishing territory," Michael noted.

"Let's just hope that those who haven't lost much have made themselves very unlikeable while thinking the others weak," Lord Mandale said with a nasty grin. "They will be in one hell of a surprise once the other clans can suddenly put up resistance again."

Michael blinked and shared a smile after thinking about that for a minute. "I haven't thought about that direct possibility, but that would be very convenient."

"Pitting the barbarians against each other is a time-honored tradition in the remnants of the Twin Mountain Kingdom. I can tell you all about it if you are open to talk about some of the reforms you have made," Lord Mandale offered with a hungry expression.

"Oh, I would be happy to," Michael replied.

- A few days later -

Entering Lionsgate was like entering a parallel world. Normally, people didn't care much even about a noble procession, but this time the streets were lined with applauding citizens, held back by a long line of city guards.

Michael rode left to his uncle, positively stunned by the amount of noise the populace put out.

They had been greeted by Sir Gavin Strom at the gates, who was now leading them along a predetermined path through the capital that was significantly longer than the direct path should have been.

"It seems like they used the early warning of our arrival well," Michael's uncle said while basking in the cheering of the populace.

"You seem to be enjoying yourself at least," Michael said with a smile. A headache had set in nearly instantly once entering the city, so he didn't similarly enjoy this kind of greeting.

"You forget that I was raised as an adventurer. We live on glory, and this is a real feast. It also raises the people's morale, so just view it as one of the duties of rulership to give the people their little parades," Lord Grim explained with a broad grin on his face.

Michael sighed, put on a smile, and began waving at the crowd.

I should have taken the carriage with Duke Wallsten, and Greeich, he thought, as his headache got worse and the people screamed even louder.

Michael looked over his shoulder to see that most of the knights of the different houses were also enjoying the attention, and the rest looked rather indifferent. Michael suddenly felt like he was the odd one here, which made him smirk.

When they finally reached the palace, after what felt like a tour through half of the city, things got quieter but not necessarily that much emptier.

The courtyard in front of the main building was filled to the brim with well-dressed figures giving ample applause to the victorious lords of the south. Michael recognized a score of the nobles, but many were completely unknown to him.

At the top of the stairs waited Zen in full regal glory. He was wearing an elegant silver tunic and pants with a red cape and a cord of spun gold over his chest. The crown on his head glinted in the sunlight, similarly to his wide smile as he watched the procession stop in front of him.

The king was flanked on the left by his mother, dressed in black, and Mira, who was wearing a beautiful blue dress with intricate silver details. On the right was a woman whom Michael had not seen before. She had long blond hair, a sharp face, and a calm, maybe even cold presence.

Next to them were the members of the council, and then the remaining knights of the Kingsguard.

Michael, Lord Grim, and Theden went on their knees in front of the king. For some reason, they had all decided to put Michael in the prime center position and had him offer the fanciest trophy of the battle of Rescar Village to the king. It was a gnarly wooden staff covered in intricate and swirly runes that covered most of the wood and had belonged to one of the druids. The artifact basically oozed mana even if they couldn't tell what it did.

Zen was happy with the offering nonetheless and took the staff from Michael's hands to inspect it. They, of course, had more things to offer to the king, but that would be for later.

"What a fine trophy you bring me," he said, his mana-infused voice easily carrying to even the furthest in the audience. "It will be mounted in the gallery to signify the great victory you all have achieved."

Zen handed the staff off to one of his knights and then signaled the three of them to rise.

"Words can not express the service you have done to the kingdom, so I won't bore you with a long speech after your journey, but rather with a feast to recharge your reserves after the weeks of hardship. For now, I would be delighted if we could do some proper greetings and then meet in the dining hall for some tea and cake."