Kingdom of Iron: Tyrant's Fall

"What do you mean the Sparrows were almost ambushed?" Matt was desperately trying to control his temper, but between the casualties in the lifeguards, Lucy's near-assassination, and Tollardine's attempt on his own life, it had already been a rough morning.

Captain Damenfurd winced; clearly the Gnome hadn't been expecting the news to be well received. "The Alliance almost managed to slip some troops around behind the front lines, sire. A whole banner of Elven Hunstmen, ready to strike just as they were coming into range of the palace. If the Red Guard under Captain Tirsen hadn't responded in time, they might have had the chance to burn the siege engines."

Matt paused and put a hand to the bridge of his nose. His lack of rest from the previous night and the fatigue of the long battle was making it hard to tell whether the headache was Oath-induced or natural. "Where was Captain Rordine?"

The Gnome paused and looked at Commander Artenka, the Knight over the Sparrow Companies. She looked vaguely contemptuous. "He led a direct assault on the palace, King Matthew. Against orders, I believe."

For a moment, Matt just stared at the Knight. Her smile started to fade as the silence stretched; it had vanished entirely by the time he managed to strangle his initial reaction. "He tried to take the palace alone?"

She shifted on her feet. "I think a part of Captain Tollardine's Bloodsworn supported him, but yes, King Matthew." Artenka shook her head. "They did manage to breach a part of the wall, but they were thrown back with heavy casualties afterward. Without the Bloodsworn, there was too big a hole in our ranks for the other troops to guard."

Matt glanced at Lucy, trying to control his anger. It didn't exactly help; her face was still covered in scrapes and she was limping slightly. He clenched his jaw for a moment, clamping down on his rage for a more appropriate time. "Are they in position now?"

Damenfurd nodded quickly. "Yes, sire. My Hill Guard are supporting them now, and we're already getting ready to start bombardment." He paused for a moment to look back at the imposing tower in the distance. "Those walls are tough, sire, especially with Siegemakers to repair them, but we'll be through them soon enough. It'll just take some time."

With a sigh and a nod, Matt gestured for them to withdraw. He glanced up at the smoke-stained sky, which was just starting to show signs of daylight. The sun was peeking over the horizon now, and it was brightening a world where the siege of Thronepeak was already nearing its conclusion.

From what he could see, the lower city was already theirs—at least, what was left of it after the High Guard and Shadow Hunters had finally destroyed or captured the last of the Pinions. Most of the upper city had escaped a similar fate, if only because the fighting had been less brutally flammable, though some portions of the fissure were still stained by the Bloodsworn's fire magic.

All that remained was the gold palace, that spectacular spire that stood against the rear of the fissure. If they could just breach the outer gates there, then the battle would finally be over.

He stared at the palace, seeing the Sparrows maneuver their siege engines into position, guarded by barricades made of earth and elevated to help them aim. They weren't trebuchets, but at least it would keep the defenders busy, and in time, they would break through. Soon.

Lucy touched his arm, and he blinked. He looked over at her, and she smiled. "It worked. We're nearly there."

Matt nodded. His gaze went to the scrapes on her face, and his fists clenched for a moment. "You should get yourself looked at, Lucy."

"I can visit the healers when the city is ours. Or when you tell me the assassins are all dead." Her eyes flashed with anger, though it didn't seem to be directed at him. "That wasn't all of them, was it?"

Matt shook his head and tried to keep his voice low. "No. Rordine's part of it, but I can't move against him without knowing how much of the rest of the Clan is involved. Einreth is supposed to be in charge, but with her absent…"

Lucy nodded slowly. Her hand drifted to her sword. "I can do it. Deal with him and have the blame for it."

He reached out and stilled her hand. "No." She looked up at him, and he brushed a bit of blood and soot from her face. "You don't need to. It's my problem, and I'll solve it without risking… risking the peace between our peoples."

Matt had almost said something else, but Lucy seemed to have heard it, regardless. She smiled and patted his chest with a hand. "Well now, you don't need to worry that much about me, honey." Lucy stepped back, turning to face the palace with a sigh. "Now, we just need to blast our way into…"

Her voice faded away, and an expression of disbelief crossed her face. Matt frowned and followed her gaze, looking towards the wall over the palace's main gate.

There, waving in the half-light of the morning, was a grey flag. The Alliance had decided to parley.

Less than an hour later, Matt strode into the Chieftain's Room in the palace of Thronepeak, and found the commanders of the Alliance, and the royal family of the Onyx Holdings, waiting for him.

The Chieftain's Room was a grand hall, one that was lined with dozens of brilliantly painted banners hung from a ceiling so high that it retreated into shadow, high above the fireplaces that lit the floor. A broad blue carpet stretched from the doorway up to the large stone throne of the Onyx Chieftain, who ruled over the entire Clan. Nobles and guards stood on either side of that carpet, their stances stiff and unflinching. Their eyes followed him, however, as he walked down the middle of them towards where their leaders waited.

It was clear that the Alliance had been having a bad morning. The leader of the Elves present in Thronepeak was standing with a bandage around her left shoulder, and her left arm in a sling. There was a shallow cut on her head that had been roughly treated, and she glared at him with cool blue eyes.

By contrast, the leader of the remaining Pinions from the Order of the Ravens was walking alongside Matt, his hands already bound in chains. The last of the enemy Knights had been captured or surrendered, which meant the entire contingent from that nation was now either dead or being watched over by a very paranoid set of High Guard banners. Their last surviving Captain seemed dejected, which made sense considering his force's complete and utter defeat; the fact that his allies had never come out from the upper city to rescue him probably only made the situation worse.

Worst off, however, appeared to be the gathered royal family of the Onyx Holdings. The Dwarves watched him approach as if they saw the end of all things coming closer with each step. There were a little over a dozen of them, and most of them looked to be teenagers or children. Those few adults wore damaged armor and had bandaged limbs. Several were crying silently.

Matt focused on the one who wore the stone crown that marked their Great Chieftain, and sat on the grand stonework throne. The Dwarf was larger than the others, but he seemed beaten down by the situation. His eyes were distant, as if he thought he was dreaming. Perhaps he was struggling hard to convince himself that it was all a nightmare, and that he'd wake to find his city free.

If that was the case, Matt was not going to indulge him. He walked up to the throne and stopped, staring at the man. "You are Chieftain Zan'feld?"

The Dwarf nodded. Matt continued. "I was told you were going to surrender to me. Is that true?"

Zan'feld looked back at him in silence. Then he stood, moving slowly as if he wanted to avoid startling anyone. "I hereby surrender the city of Thronepeak to you, with all who live within it."

Matt tilted his head. "And?"

The Dwarf stared at him. Then he seemed to swell up in anger. "You are required to spare the lives of the people here and take them prisoner, rather than butchering them the way you did at Greyhenge."

Anger flickered in Matt's weary heart as well. He leaned forward, meeting the Dwarf eye to eye. "What I did at Greyhenge was necessary because of the decisions that you and your allies made. I warned you—all of you—the day I took the throne. You chose war anyway."

Silence fell over the room, and Matt let it settle in. Then he straightened back up. "I'm assuming that none of you swore that foul Oath to kill me?"

The Dwarf's eyes moved to his family. When they came back to Matt, he shook his head. "The last of our Oath-sworn died days ago."

"I am glad to hear your people are free of that curse, then." Matt sighed. "If that is the case, are you finally willing to make peace with me, Chieftain Zan'feld? Or do I need to continue this war?"

The Elf stepped forward, her eyes hot with outrage. "You dare speak of peace after all that you—"

Matt didn't even turn his head. "I will speak with you of peace, Alterian, when I deem it is your turn. Right now, I don't have time for a conversation with another prisoner of war."

She recoiled, stubbornness still filling her expression. "You are required not to take our people prisoner. We have a treaty—"

"The Kingdom does, certainly." Matt looked over at Lucy, who had come in alongside the Pinion Captain. "However, you are currently in her custody. Unless you would care to fight your way past her forces to freedom?"

The Elf stared at Lucy in horror, and with good reason. Apparently, at some point, two banners of Cavaliers had tried to make a breakout. They'd run into a banner of Lions maneuvering through the narrow streets of the upper city, and only about half the Elves had survived the resulting butchery. Between those casualties and the losses among the Huntsmen and Sentinels, it wouldn't take many revolutionaries to finish off the rest.

Taking the Elf's sudden silence as a decision to reconsider her stance, he turned back to the Dwarf. "Again, will you stop this war? We are willing to sign a peace with you that includes the Pridelands. You can rest and rebuild without a threat from either of us."

Zan'feld's eyes darted to his supposed ally for a moment. "We would consider it."

"Consider?" Matt tilted his head and looked back and forth. "May I ask what would stop you, if you are free from the Oath?"

The Dwarf remained silent, but the Pinion suddenly laughed. It was a harsh sound; he'd fallen from a building earlier, and seemed to be nursing broken ribs. "They forced him to send his Heir north to the Alterians. In case you killed him, they said."

Now, of course, the Heir would be held hostage to ensure the Dwarven leader stayed compliant. Matt's eyes narrowed. If someone killed Zan'feld—such as, for example, Matt—then the Elves could easily do the same to the Heir and gain the Divine Right over the Onyx Holdings. Of course, if he failed to do it, there could be other accidents arranged for the Dwarves to set things up for the Alterians. "I see."

He paused for a moment. Then he grinned. "All right, then. Here's what we are going to do, at least until we work out an actual truce."

Matt pointed at the Pinion and the Elf. "I'm going to pick one of your soldiers to parole back to your respective nations. Not a Captain or a royal, just a soldier. They are going to carry a message for me, offering them the chance to negotiate a truce over the next few days."

The Elf snorted, apparently recovering some of her haughtiness; the Knight, on the other hand, seemed resigned. "We would welcome that, King Matthew."

"Traitor!" The Elf sneered at the man, her lips curling in disgust. "Our people will never consider such weakness."

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Matt raised his eyebrow and spread his hands. "You weren't quite so stubborn when you were signing a peace treaty with my Kingdom." She glared at him with an almost palpable hatred, and he grinned. "Of course, maybe you are so enthusiastic about this war because you think your borders are safe. After all, your lands are kind of hard to get to from here. We'd have to march through a lot of mountains to reach you, and you could arrange for most of the battles to be over Dwarven cities, not your own."

The Elf glanced at her Dwarven allies and schooled her expression into cool aloofness. "This setback will be reversed in time. Your rabble in the Pridelands will be driven back soon enough."

"Unless they take a different route." Matt looked back at Lucy, who was tapping the handle of her sword quietly. "My Lady, how quickly do you think your armies could reach the Alterian lands if I allowed them to march through the Sortenmoors?"

Her eyes sparked. "I'm not sure. Four, maybe five days? After that, we could be in the capital within another couple." She tapped her lips with a speculative finger. "Of course, we'd need supplies."

Matt shrugged. "Well, we are at peace. I'm sure you can purchase some from the Kingdom on the way to visit the Elven lands." He turned back to the Elf, who had gone pale from shock. "Is something wrong?"

"Y-you can't. The peace treaty…" The Elf trailed off and her eyes widened. So did Matt's smile.

"The treaty didn't keep you from joining the Alliance, or from allowing them to march through your territory to attack my Kingdom, did it? What makes you think that we couldn't do the same?" Matt saw her expression collapse into absolute horror, and he nodded. "You should make sure to mention that possibility when your messenger returns home. I wouldn't want your capital to receive this kind of visit by surprise."

As the Elf stared at him in shocked silence, Matt turned back to Zan'feld. "Unfortunately, that means the help you might have wanted from the Alterians is probably not going to come anytime soon. They'll pull what they can back to their own borders, to make sure we don't do to them what we just did to you. It'll be a bit tougher on you, of course, but I'm sure you're willing to sacrifice the well-being of your people, their history, and their legacy, just to make them feel safe. As well as to honor the very people who plunged you into this problem in the first place, of course."

As he'd spoken, the Dwarf had started to scowl. The anger and discontent in the man's face grew and grew until his brows nearly met in the middle and his dark eyes were practically pits of anger and resentment. His voice was a bass rumble that Matt could feel in his chest. "Do not mock our resolve, Tyrant of Iron. You have won today, but—"

"But nothing." Matt didn't raise his voice, but the calm words cut cleanly through the Dwarf's impending speech. He stared at the man and his words grew hard. "When I took the throne, I promised that I would bring war to those who abused my people, as your armies have done. As you would continue to do. Do you think that this is the worst I can do to you?"

The Dwarf looked at Matt in silence, and Matt smiled. "You know better. Your people are already wondering if there is any point to having you around, Zan'feld. Why should they die for royalty that does nothing for them? When I took the nobles of Lowgarten prisoner, there were cheers. What will your people do when I drag every noble in your country from their homes, and leave your people here free? What land would you be a Chieftain of then?"

He saw Zan'feld's eyes widen. The Chieftain's gaze went to Lucy before it came back to Matt. "Y-you swore to let us live."

"I did, and you will." Matt looked around at the gathered Dwarves and shrugged. "But I do not have to let you live here. You might spend the rest of your lives in the Tower of Penance, waiting for a ransom that your people might simply never decide to pay. Who knows what ideas they would accept in the meantime?"

Lucy smiled. "Don't worry. I'm sure they can find all sorts of ways to survive without you."

The Dwarf stared at him, his jaw working. Then he looked away. "We will send an emissary. There will be peace."

Matt waited for a moment. Then he nodded. "Thank you." He looked around at the gathered nobility and met their eyes. Most of them looked away, their faces pale and weary.

Except for one. A young Dwarf who had been clutching at her mother. She glared back at him, as stubborn as ever.

He nodded. "My forces will remain here until the negotiations are concluded. Once they have, then we will withdraw and leave you to your own devices, as we always wished to. Until then, we are under the laws of the Kingdom. Remember that."

There was silence at his words. Then Matt turned and walked out of the room. Lucy and his lifeguards followed, their steps muffled by the carpet. The Pinion Captain stayed behind; Matt had agreed to allow him the chance to speak with the others of the Alliance. After all, if he didn't return, there weren't a lot of other places he could go.

At least one nation down, possibly as much as three. Now there were only one or two left to go, and his people could finally enjoy peace.

Of course, there was one more task to deal with. It was difficult to decide whether or not it was a pleasant one, but Matt knew he needed to see to it in any case.

Captain Rordine was sitting with his remaining bannermen. They were drinking in the dining room of an abandoned manor house. The owner of the place was in hiding, was staying in the palace, or was dead. Either way, they weren't present to protest the Red Moon Orcs who were raiding their cellar and putting their boots up on the table.

When Matt entered, the Bloodsworn officers abruptly stopped laughing and joking. Rordine tilted his head to look at his monarch, his one remaining eye glinting with half-hidden maliciousness. He raised his cup without bothering to stand. "To your health, King Matthew."

Matt looked back at him. Inside, he was struggling to contain his rage. It wouldn't serve him well. Not here. Not yet. "Captain Rordine."

The Red Moon Orc crooked an eyebrow at him. "Yes?"

"I'm afraid that many of your soldiers have suffered severe casualties during this campaign." It was nothing but the truth. Out of around three hundred Bloodsworn, nearly half were dead or severely wounded, while many of the remainder had some kind of injury. It was a disastrous level of losses, yet here Rordine sat celebrating.

Rordine nodded, his face locked in an elaborately sympathetic expression. "It is true, unfortunately. I had warned the Council that Captain Enedras was not quite ready to command. Who could have expected more of her?"

Matt felt his hand clench. Behind him, he heard Tiridine hiss slightly. She had apparently known Enedras; the Captain had died during the fighting in the lower city when her banner had charged a banner of Sentinels. By all accounts, she had fought well, though without support from her fellow Red Moons.

He kept his voice under control. "Captain Tollardine is also dead."

Rordine raised an eyebrow. "Is that so? What happened to the poor boy?"

The urge to execute him was rising. Matt saw the other Orcs quietly moving their hands towards their weapons and tried to unclench his own hands. "There was an incident while they were escorting me, unfortunately. None of his men survived."

"A pity. He was a good soldier." Rordine raised his cup. "It is a sad thing that he was wasted, so."

Matt smiled. "I agree. Of course, this leaves you as the only remaining Captain among the Bloodsworn. Which means I have a duty for you."

Rordine paused, his cup halfway to his lips. "A duty?"

He nodded. "With the surrender of the Dwarves, Knights, and Elves, we will not need your particular leadership here. As a result, you are to return to Redspire with the remaining Bloodsworn and report to Margrave Morteth until your banners have recovered."

Silence fell in the room. One of the Orcs slowly put his feet back on the floor; the creak of the chair was louder than the conversation had been before. Rordine, for his part, had locked his gaze onto Matt, his single eye completely focused on him. "What?"

Matt tilted his head and adopted an expression of concern. "My apologies, Captain. I was unaware that your assault on the palace affected your hearing. Though perhaps your ears were suffering earlier as well, when I ordered you to wait for reinforcements." Silence fell again. Rordine had turned an interesting color of red. When he continued, Matt let his voice finally grow cold with the rage he felt inside. "I am sure you can have the healers address that issue in Redspire. I will make sure to check on you when I return in a few days."

Rordine hurled the cup away from him, sending both drink and vessel spinning across the room to smash into a wall. He shot to his feet, his hands clenched and shaking with rage. "You can't—"

"Are you refusing your orders, Captain Rordine?" The question cut the protest short. Rordine's eye darted to the lifeguards behind him, and then to his men. Though they were armed, they had no armor. All of them were sitting down and some of them looked to be the worse for wear.

By contrast, every single lifeguard, wounded or not, had their hands on their weapons and their armor in good repair. Balred studied the Captain with a narrow, calculating stare; Tiridine seemed ready to draw her blade and start the fight right there, wounded arm or not. If the Orc was foolish enough to start things off, his dozen or so bannermen weren't going to last very long at all.

That realization appeared to cool the Red Moon Orc's anger. It shifted to a lasting hatred as Matt watched, something confirmed for him when the Orc returned his one-eyed gaze to him. Slowly, as if he was dragging himself back from the brink of violence, Rordine straightened up into something approaching a military posture. "Though I believe this duty is a dishonorable waste of our talents, I will obey your orders, King Matthew."

Matt studied the man a moment longer. "Yes. You will."

Rordine glared back at him, but didn't respond. Matt looked around at the remaining officers and nodded. Then he left, trusting the lifeguards to watch his back. With that annoyance removed, he had other work to do.

"You know he's going to try and backstab you again, right?"

Matt looked up from the map he was studying. Lucy had joined him a few moments ago with her own stack of parchment to go through. They were in one of the rooms of a Dwarven armory, located in the lower city. It had been cleared out and prepared to act as a temporary headquarters for his forces. While he could easily have occupied a part of the Dwarven palace, it was full of treacherous nobles, and he'd had enough of that for now.

He saw her still watching him, and Matt nodded. "Yeah. He's definitely not going to stop now, let alone the people backing him."

She tilted her head. "So why let him go?"

"Killing him turns him into a martyr, at least unless I have a direct excuse." Matt grimaced as she opened her mouth. "Captain Tollardine will just turn into a scapegoat if I reveal the coup attempt. Given that he's already dead, it will just make me look impotent if I make the accusation and can't convince the Council."

Lucy grunted. "Still, why not leave him here? If he's back home, he can cause more trouble for you there."

Matt shook his head. "Not as much as he could cause here." He looked in the direction of the palace. "How long would it take him to cause some kind of incident to disrupt the peace process here? Or maybe try to claim the Divine Right from the Chieftain? Better he stays where I can keep an eye on him. At least in Redspire, Morteth can make sure he stays in line."

She grimaced. "Damn. Are you sure you don't want to just stay here?"

The invitation was more than enticing. He thought it over for about half a second. Then a splitting headache throbbed, just for a heartbeat. "I… can't."

Lucy raised an eyebrow at him. "Can't? Or won't?"

Matt sighed. He set aside the map. "First one." She opened her mouth to protest, and Matt held up a hand. "Just… give me a second."

Frowning slightly, Lucy sat back in her seat. She seemed more concerned than upset, which was probably a good sign. So far, at least. "You remember how the leaders of the Alliance swore an Oath that compelled them to attack me?"

Lucy nodded, her eyes getting a bit narrower.

Matt grimaced. "When I first got here, there was a coronation. I guess some part of it must have fulfilled the same function as an Oath ceremony, because some of the things I said became… binding."

She blinked. Then she snorted. "You accidentally swore a magic Oath."

"Yeah, you could say that." Matt shook his head. "It's part of the reason I have such strong magic. I think the Divine Right might contribute to the other part, but I'm not as sure."

Lucy seemed to think the situation over. "So what did you end up committing to? Drinking the blood of your enemies, crushing nations under your boot heel…"

Matt rolled his eyes. "Just taking care of the people. Bringing them peace, fighting their enemies, that sort of thing. I thought it was the bare minimum."

"But it means you can't just abandon the Kingdom." She looked back at him. "And if you do?"

He tapped the writing table with a finger, avoiding her eyes. "It has consequences. Maybe fatal ones."

Lucy was silent for a few more moments. "Is it permanent?"

Surprised, Matt looked over at her. She was still watching him with a calm expression. "No. Only while I am on the throne. Once my reign is over, then the Oath will be too." Feeling a tremor of nervousness, he chuckled at it. "If it ends, I mean. Originally, Gorfeld had me promise to stick it out a year, but…"

He trailed off as a pang of grief went through him. There had been no news about Gorfeld yet. Hopefully, the Imp had already recovered, but if he hadn't, Matt didn't know what he'd do without him.

She studied him another moment, a small frown on her face. "And you've already been here around nine months, right?" Then she bit the corner of her lip, and her expression shifted as if she was trying to restrain a laugh. "That's not very much time to reform an entire society. You should probably get on that."

Matt snorted. "I guess so." He looked back at the maps on the table. The sketched-out plans for finishing the war against the remnants of the Alliance seemed so… unimportant now. He sighed. "I'll need to go as soon as we have a response from the Order of Ravens. I've been gone from Redspire too long. I'd much rather stay and finish things here, but if I do…"

"You might have more problems than just Rordine. I understand." Lucy stood and stretched for a moment. He heard a small pop from her spine and she sighed as well. "No rest for the wicked, you know."

He grunted. Those words seemed especially apt now. "Grufen should still help you push east if you need help. I'll be sending him reinforcements as soon as I can, so you should have some breathing room to work with."

She walked around the side of the table, trailing one hand along the edge as she approached. "That does sound nice. Sometimes."

There was a warmth in her voice that surprised him a little. He looked over and nearly jumped as he realized how close she'd gotten to him. She stepped a little closer, a little half-grin on her face, and his heartbeat got a little quicker and louder in his own ears. "True."

Lucy took another step closer and peered up at him, mischief dancing in her eyes. "You know, it occurs to me that we'll both be pretty busy soon. Lots of trouble to take care of, lots of distractions."

It was dawning on Matt that the lifeguards and Knights had left the two of them alone again. Just the two rulers, in a room with stone walls and a solid looking wooden door. A shocking violation of their responsibilities as bodyguards, really; he'd have to shake Balred's hand after. He felt a smile tugging on his own lips. "That is true. It's a shame we won't be able to see each other much more."

"That is true. How's a girl supposed to feel appreciated from that far away?"

Matt's smile grew wider. "I suppose I'll have to figure that out. We'll just have to be smart about it. Patient too."

She raised an eyebrow. "Not that patient, honey. Keep that in—"

He leaned forward and kissed her. His arms went around her naturally, just as hers curled around his neck. She hummed slightly and pressed forward into him, which he didn't mind at all.

Sometimes it was good to be a king.