Kingdom of Iron: Tyrant's Fall

The next four days seemed to pass far too quickly.

Unlike at Castle Mornal, there was plenty for him to do. From managing the troops—keeping them busy enough that they didn't decide to start looting or 'amusing' themselves in other ways was important—to dealing with the occasional complaint of the Dwarves or other prisoners about various problems, to planning the future campaign against the Wizards in the east, to visiting the wounded and making sure they were cared for, he had quite a lot to deal with.

Of course, spending time with Lucy was also something of a priority, even if everyone from the Kingdom and the Pridelands seemed to be whispering about it. Some things were worth generating a bit of gossip over.

For all that, Matt did manage to find a bit of time to continue working on his mantras. He actually completed the Water portion of his Source, which was a significant achievement given everything else going on. Starting on the Winter portion, however, was much, much harder. It felt something like running face first into a brick wall. He supposed it was partially due to the current season; even though they were in the latter half summer, it was still the opposite to what he was trying to build. Still, he kept at the effort regardless, knowing that it would be worth it eventually.

Within all-too-short a time, a messenger arrived from the Order of Ravens. They had ridden a greatelk halfway to death with a message from their new Queen. Apparently the old, Oath-sworn King had suffered an 'incident' that had resulted in new leadership, and the Knights to the south were suddenly highly interested in peace.

Which meant, whether or not he wanted to, it was time to go home.

Lucy watched as he checked Nelson's reins. The warbuck was tolerating his inspection very patiently; he'd apparently won his own nickname after the last battle. A few of them, actually, but Matt had already decided that riding something called 'Hellbeast' or 'Spirit of Veangeance' was inappropriate and really unfair to his faithful steed. Harbinger of Destruction, however…

She finally spoke as he finished the last few touches on Nelson's armor and kit. "So, this is it, huh?"

He looked back at her with a smile. "Just for now. You'll probably be seeing me more than you want once I bring reinforcements back for Grufen, honestly."

"I'll be the judge of that." Her lips still twitched in a smile. "Tell the others they're more than welcome to visit."

Matt snorted. She'd take every opportunity to pick their brains for secrets, of course, but that seemed like a lot less of a threat than it had been for various reasons. "I'll be sure to send them along." He paused. "I'll let you know when we find a way back, too. If you're interested in one."

She studied him for a moment. "I guess that would depend on the situation, wouldn't it? I'm not exactly about to abandon the Pridelands while they still need me." Then she grinned. "Of course, if you're in a sharing mood, you can always tell me what kinds of spells you have."

He laughed. "If that's what you want, the warbuck's right here and ready for a ride."

Lucy made a face. "Not today, I don't think. Too many people watching." She sighed and started over to him. "You know, some of my advisors think you might have cast a spell on me. Some kind of passion-inflaming one to control my mind."

Matt rolled his eyes. "As if that would work on you. Besides, if I did, then it wouldn't be quite so hard to get you on the damn warbuck."

She snickered at him. "I guess so." Then her humor faded, and she took a deep breath. "Just… be careful, okay? I don't want to have to launch a crusade to avenge your untimely death or something. There's too much on my list of things to do already."

He put his arms around her and drew her close. "Same goes for you."

They shared one last kiss, and Matt watched regretfully as she pulled away. Then he swung himself up into Nelson's saddle and urged the warbuck forward. His troops were waiting for him, and they were marching home.

The journey down from the mountains was curiously calm and quiet, compared to the tension and uncertainty that had filled the march into the Dwarven territory. There wasn't even the friction of Kingdom troops marching alongside the revolutionaries from the Pridelands, since Lucy and her soldiers still needed to wait for the arrival of the emissary from the Alterians before they could leave Thronepeak.

They marched fairly quickly, however, reaching Lowgarten within the day. The Dwarven city seemed peaceful and quiet enough; some of Matt's prisoners were sour when they heard the serfs celebrating the arrival of peace. Some of the serfs were already beginning to advocate for leaving the Onyx Holdings altogether, which Matt believed was going to be a sign of things to come. At the very least, their own internal troubles would keep the Dwarves from trying to betray him and his allies going forward.

The march from Lowgarten to Bridgeton took another two days. Somehow, the descent from the mountains was just as unpleasant as walking up them had been, though logic suggested that going downhill should have been easier. Still, as mountainsides turned to hills, and hills to the Pridelands' rolling plains, Matt felt grateful to be back on something close to normal terrain again. He hadn't needed to fight a real battle amid the peaks and valleys of the Dwarven holdings, but he knew it would have been unpleasant if it had been necessary. Better to fight where a wrong step wouldn't send someone plummeting to their doom.

At long last, they turned north and reached the only real crossing for the Blackstone. The Kingdom's flag still flew over the fort, which was comforting enough; the sight of fresh banners from the Crown Guard was another encouraging sign. There were only two of them, but that was all that had been necessary, especially now.

As Matt's troops marched across the bridges and into the town, accompanied by cheering freeholders and ringing bells, he waved and smiled. At least now he'd finally hear a bit more news about what had been happening in his absence—as long as he could trust whoever was saying it, of course.

Matt blinked as he walked into the fort's meeting room.

The three people waiting for him had a variety of reactions. One of them was unfamiliar to him. Captain Surlin was the leader of the Fifth Warg Riders. Matt hadn't met the man, but he seemed professional and respectful enough. He immediately gave Matt a sharp salute, which Matt returned with equal deference. "Welcome back to Bridgeton, sire. Captain Snolt sends his regrets that he couldn't be here."

It took a monumental effort to keep from laughing. Snolt was probably still quite unhappy with him for sending orders that condemned him to magic training—on the outside, at least. "I'm sure I'll catch up to him later, Captain. It is good to be back."

Of course, the other two people in the room were a bit less formal compared to the Captain. Tanniven, the Voice of the Sortenmoors, grinned at him like a child caught with his hand in the cookie jar. "Welcome back, my liege. I'm sure you missed breathing the air of our home."

Matt gave the Elf freeholder a small smile. "I did, Tanniven. It's good to see you as well." He shook the Voice's hand and then turned to the third person. "I won't say I'm sorry to see you, but I am surprised. You didn't want to stay at Redspire?"

Alicia, the Maiden of Health, shrugged at him. She seemed a little tired, though she still smiled a little as he shook her hand. "No. I wanted to take a closer look at some of the diseases that were happening in the Sortenmoors, and staying in Redspire didn't seem like a good way to do that."

He glanced to the side, noting a quartet of lifeguards he didn't recognize standing in the corner. "I take it the Council convinced you to take some escorts?"

She nodded. "I actually asked for them. There's been a few… incidents that proved you right there."

Matt tilted his head, but she didn't continue. He made a note to ask her about it later and looked back at Captain Surlin. "Do we have any reports from Margrave Grufen, Captain?"

Surlin nodded. "He sent a message that arrived a day ago, sire. His forces have reached Dabenholt, and are beginning their raids into the Greymarches. He reported that there aren't a large number of Wizards patrolling the border; one of his banners managed to march halfway to Karnhenge without encountering any enemies."

He felt his eyebrows climb halfway to his scalp. Part of him had expected the Circle of Heaven to have launched an attack of some sort while he was distracted. Apparently, they hadn't decided to do so. "I'm glad to hear it." Then he turned to Tanniven. "I hope you haven't been here just waiting for me, Voice Tanniven."

The Elf spread his arms. "While no one could blame me for doing so, I came mostly so that I could investigate a few concerns our freeholders had recently." Tanniven paused. "I assume that you've heard of Captain Rordine."

Matt felt his eyes narrow, and Captain Surlin winced. Tanniven nodded. "The good Captain apparently made quite a few demands of the freeholders here and in Celriiston on his way to Redspire. Some of the freeholders complied, but others encountered difficulties when they refused."

With a pulse of pain between his temples, Matt rubbed at the bridge of his nose. "What sort of demands?"

"Mostly of additional supplies, money, or mounts." Tanniven's voice grew a bit cooler. "The good Captain apparently believed that his journey should have been shortened by using every greatelk available—and that any resource that the freeholders here enjoyed should be shared with his band of heroes."

He felt a flare of anger, though he managed to contain it. How had Rordine continued to worsen things even just by returning home? "Anything else?"

Tanniven's expression grew a little graver. "He was also very concerned about the ah, apparent flow of serfs from his territory to the Blackstone, sire."

Matt blinked, and he looked at Surlin. The Captain grimaced. "There have been a lot of reports of serfs running away from the Red Moons. A lot of them have heard that if they make it to the Pridelands, they won't have to serve under anyone anymore."

The Voice spoke up, his words elaborately casual. "Not just from the Red Moons. There are some fleeing from the Blackleafs and the High Imps as well." Tanniven paused, and a mischievous grin crossed his lips. "Not that I've spoken with any such fugitives, of course."

Alicia spoke up next. "There aren't that many of them, from what I can tell, but there are plenty of people moving south. Some of them look like they've been beaten and starved frequently."

Stolen novel; please report.

The condemnation in her words made Matt wince, but he turned back to Surlin. "They are crossing here at Bridgeton?"

The Captain glanced at Alicia. "I… have no knowledge of any crossings here, sire." He hesitated. "There might also be other places where they risk a crossing. Some people are saying the ford at Coorston is already starting to seem usable as well."

Tanniven nodded. "That is a bit of news that people have been saying. I am not sure if it is entirely a safe crossing, but perhaps there are some who are helping them." He looked at Matt. "Captain Rordine apparently believed that there were. He assaulted several freeholders and accused some others of being escapees. If it had not been for the intervention of the Maiden of Health, he might have carried them off to Red Moon farms."

Alicia nodded with grim satisfaction. "They were sick. With all sorts of things."

Even as Matt gave her a smile, Tanniven continued. "So the good Captain left here empty-handed, but I cannot guarantee that he remained so afterwards. There are reports that he might have even had a clash with a militia near Coorston before he left the Sortenmoors entirely."

Matt's jaw clenched for a moment. With a grimace, he shook his head. "If you haven't already, give me the list of complaints. I'll put them before the Council."

Tanniven nodded. "I appreciate it, sire." He heaved a sigh of his own. "All the same, I'm afraid it might have been my fault. I probably should have been more available to counter his demands directly. I'll be more responsive in the future."

"Thank you." He turned back to Alicia. "Is your work with the sick done here?"

Alicia hesitated and then shook her head. "No. I still need a bit more time to organize the response."

Matt nodded. "Then I'll let you keep going with it. I've got to head back to the capital." Then he smiled. "But please let me know before you make any decisions on going to visit Lucy. I'd appreciate knowing where you are, in case something goes wrong."

She snorted. "Of course."

He looked back to Surlin. "Captain, we'll be staying here for the night, and then continue on. Do you have enough barracks space for us?"

The Goblin nodded. "Yes, sire. If you'll follow me, I can show you a place where…"

"Welcome to Shadowfen, sire." Matriach Rithune had come to meet him, along with the other two Matriachs. A fourth Blackleaf Goblin stood a short distance away, her eyes twitching as she watched the others. "I hope you've had a pleasant journey."

Matt nodded to the Blackleaf leaders. His troops had taken another three days to cross the Sortenmoors, but it had been a journey well spent. For once, with the warmth of summer and the prospect of a triumphant return to Redspire ahead of him, the moors had been more than a little pleasant. Somehow, though, he doubted that the Blackleafs had met him at the gates just to ask him about it. "It was."

Rithune paused, her eyes shifting towards the fourth Goblin. "Sire, if I may ask you for a moment of your time. There is a dispute that we must ask for your guidance in resolving."

He tried not to sigh. They hadn't even managed to reach Redspire, and the bickering had already started. "I am sure that the wisdom of the Matriachs of the Blackleaf Clan is more than sufficient for any problems you face, Matriarch Rithune."

Matriarch Calthune openly glared at the fourth Goblin and shook her head. "In this case, it is not our wisdom that demands a remedy, sire."

The fourth Goblin stepped forward. Her voice was a low purr as she bowed. "My name is Voice Sepluth, my liege. Unfortunately, I am the source of the dispute."

Matt suppressed a groan. He looked back at his troops, who were still marching along the road. The original plan had been to march straight through Shadowfen so they could reach Redspire the following day. A delay would only worsen whatever problems he had waiting for him in the capital.

At the same time, the Blackleafs were an important Clan, and their allegiance would go a long way if things went poorly. He made a decision and signaled for Captain Damenfurd to join him. "Keep the troops moving. I'm going to catch up with them on the road."

The Gnome saluted. "Of course, sire."

He walked over to the other Captains to deliver the news, and Matt turned back to the Goblins. "All right. Let's hear what this is all about."

They met in the Citadel, in the same room where Suluth had made her final bid to kill him. It was not a memory that put him in the best of moods, and the realization of what he had been called in to mediate was… not exactly encouraging either.

He stared at the Goblins for a moment, feeling every wound he'd taken and every mile of road he'd traveled over the past few weeks. It was an effort to keep that weariness from his tone. "So. You have a disagreement over the next leader for the Clan."

Rithune nodded. "The Matriarchs have decided on the candidate that they believe fits the criteria for leadership. Our deliberations have been careful and well-considered. The choice is what the Clan needs."

Matt looked from her to the Voice. "And you disagree."

Sepluth inclined her head. "I do, my liege."

He watched the four Goblins for a moment longer. Then he sighed. "All right. Explain. Who is the candidate, why were they chosen, and why do you, Voice Sepluth, object?"

He pointedly looked away from the Voice, choosing to look at Matriach Rithune first. The Matriarch bowed her head in gratitude, her expression intent. Her voice was calm as she began.

"The chosen candidate is a noblewoman by the name of Malsenth. She has been a defender of the Kingdom for many years, and retired from the Shadow Hunters after serving loyally across three monarchs. Her skill in battle and strategy will be a benefit to the Kingdom in the years to come."

Matriarch Relthune spoke up before Rithune could continue. "Her loyalty to the Clan is also strong. She was nearly executed by the Obsidian King for refusing his orders to attack unarmed members of the Blackleafs who had only managed to obstruct one of his designs by accident." Then she paused. "Though she is not as powerful as Suluth was, it is no excuse to exclude her from consideration."

Calthune had been watching Relthune speak with sharp eyes. When her fellow Matriarch fell silent, she looked back at Matt and added her voice. "While I was also hesitant to support her at first, my private conversations with Malsenth reassured me on various issues. She will not attempt to avenge herself on those who some might think have wronged our Clan, and she has seen the wisdom of our cooperation with you, sire. You will not need to fear any disruption or treachery from her."

The list of reasons was a fair one so far, but he was beginning to suspect the Voice's reason for objecting. He turned to Sepluth, whose expression might as well have been carved from ice. "Voice Sepluth, you have heard their reasons. You still maintain your objections?"

Sepluth nodded. "Yes, my liege. I do."

He gestured for her to continue, and the freeholder's eyes blazed with sudden determination. "Lady Malsenth has an excellent martial reputation and remains loyal to the Clan—so long as the Clan is only the nobility. She has rejected the Angru Declaration entirely, and is vocal in the opinion that serfs should not be freed." Sepluth paused, and she turned her angry gaze on the Matriarchs. "She is also a cruel taskmaster to those who serve her. Serfs under her command are beaten and worse regularly. Now, more than ever, she should not be the head of our Clan."

A deep silence fell, and Matt let it linger. He turned back to the Matriarchs. "You were made aware of these facts before now?"

There was a pause as the Matriarchs exchanged looks. Matriarch Rithune answered. "We were aware, sire."

"And you chose her anyway?"

The Matriarchs nodded. Calthune spoke next. "Her flaws, as we had said, might have otherwise disqualified her, but in such turbulent times, tradition and stability are needed. Her leadership will help the Clan thrive, when others might fall."

Matt shook his head. "Or she might force you to wallow in your past, when you could move into the future." He looked at Relthune, who seemed to be holding her own words back. "You felt you had no other options than this one?"

Relthune glanced at the others and then sighed. "There was another candidate." She looked at Matt and then looked away, as if trying to avoid his eyes. "The Lady Neruth was a stalwart supporter of the Red Sorceress, but did not follow Lady Suluth into rebellion. She has not served among the Shadow Hunters, having been crippled by the Obsidian King, and her lands thrived at the expense of those who did serve. While she does support the Declaration, many suspect she does so because her serfs are already freed, and it would cost her nothing while hurting her opponents."

Rithune's voice was cold. "Her lack of military honors will win her little respect, and her voice has constantly been at odds with those of other High Clans. Her selection would disturb many on the Council."

Calthune shook her head. "She would be a divisive choice in a time when unity is required. Worse, there are rumors that she lends support to serfs escaping south. We cannot allow someone who deliberately flouts the traditions of others to lead us now."

Matt's eyes narrowed as Calthune's reasons came to a close. He looked back at the Voice. "Knowing their reasons, you still object to Melsenth?" Sepluth nodded, her expression unchanged. He sighed. "And you are aware of my authority to override your decision?"

The Voice nodded again, and a flicker of triumph went through the Matriarchs' expressions. It was gone a moment later, but Matt knew he'd seen it. There was a growing hint of bitterness and sadness in Sepluth's eyes as he continued. "It is not the best time for us to be dealing with such problems. The war with the Alliance has reached a critical phase. We are on the cusp of finally ending it. The last thing I want to do is hear that the leaders of a High Clan cannot settle on such a decision."

Then he turned to look at the Matriarchs. "At the same time, I cannot intervene in this choice."

Their expressions went from gloating triumph to shock in a heartbeat. Rithune was the first to recover. "But sire—"

He held up a hand. "The rights of the Voices, as accepted by the Council, allow them to obstruct any action and protects them from harm. At the same time, I may override them, but only if it is in the interest of defending the Kingdom as a whole." Matt let those words echo through the space. "It is not a privilege that applies now. While the Voice's obstruction is certainly inconvenient at this time, it threatens our comfort, but not our safety."

Calthune's voice was shaking with anger now. "Then you'll force us to choose Neruth instead? Because she supports the Declaration?"

Matt shook his head. "I will not." The Matriarchs paused, and he continued in an even tone. "I cannot interfere in your decisions any more than I can override hers. If you feel Neruth is not the right choice, then you will not be compelled to choose her."

"Then what would you have us do?" Relthune's voice was frustrated and baffled. "We believed you would settle this."

He looked at her and smiled. "I won't decide for you, but I will give you some advice." Relthune frowned, but he continued before she could interrupt. "Have you approached the Assembly with this decision?"

The question made the Matriarchs pause. They exchanged a look, and Relthune answered. "No."

Rithune spoke before Matt could. "Asking the Assembly would not serve the Clan well. There are too many voices, and too little wisdom. Better that we decide."

"Is it?" Matt looked around at them, and then turned to Sepluth. "Voice, what would your prediction be if Malsenth is chosen?"

Sepluth blinked. She looked at the Matriarchs, and then spoke slowly. "The freeholders and serfs would object. There would be resistance among the workers, and unrest in our fields. Some have spoken of a riot or a strike. With the harvest close, it would cause hardship for the Clan."

A stunned silence fell as the Matriarchs digested the words. Calthune looked at Matt with narrowed eyes. "Did you know of this, sire?"

Matt shook his head. "No. How could I?" He pointed at Sepluth. "That is why I gave you the Voices. They are not just obstacles. They are resources, able to warn you of trouble before it happens. Would you rather have been blindsided by a revolt, or inconvenienced for a time?"

The Matriarchs looked at one another again. When they looked back, they looked a little less arrogant than they had before. Rithune spoke firmly. "We will… consult with the Assembly. Perhaps with the assistance of Voice Sepluth, we may find an… acceptable compromise."

Relief flooded him as he nodded. "Thank you." He looked out the window, seeing the dust of his army's passing already fading on the road. "I am sorry that I could not be of more help, but I must return to Redspire. Voice Sepluth, if you could lead me out?"

The Matriarchs bowed as he stood, and the Voice fell in beside him as he walked. She gave Mulwan—a Blackleaf who certainly knew her way around the Citadel—a brief look, but made no comment.

Matt waited until the doors had closed on the meeting room before he spoke. "You know you won't get everything you want, right?"

Sepluth nodded without looking at him.

He continued. "Just the fact that the Matriarchs are speaking to them will overawe many of the members of the Assembly. Most of the freeholders are too recent to be used to standing up to anyone openly; common courtesy will win a lot of former serfs over." He paused. "It probably won't be Neruth. Have someone you trust suggest someone less… radical partway through the meeting. Then give your assent to them."

She looked at him then, her eyes curious. "Is this an order, sire?"

Matt shook his head. "No. Just advice." He breathed out slowly. "Honestly, I owe you a favor. You helped prevent a problem that we both know was going to happen. I just want you to know you haven't failed if you don't get the best possible leader. It's enough to have one that won't spark an uprising because she beat a serf to death in the street in two weeks' time." Sepluth nodded, and he shook his head again. "What were they thinking? Did the Revolution scare them that much?"

Sepluth nodded. "It did, my liege. I don't know if you understand how much it shook them." She eyed him again. "Your… relationship with the Maiden of Victory also worried them. Some believed that she would come with you, and begin here what she started there."

He snorted. "My whole hope is to keep that kind of violence far from us. To make it unnecessary in the first place." Then he sighed. "Thank you for your help, Voice Sepluth. I believe we know the way from here."

"I sincerely hope you do, my liege." Sepluth stopped and bowed deeply. "Safe travels to you, and good Fortune. We will all need it, sooner than any of us think."