Kingdom of Iron: Tyrant's Fall

"King Matthew. Thank you for meeting with me."

Paralus extended his hand to Matt, and he shook it with an easy acceptance that spoke of long practice. Matt had often wondered, lately, if the Ambassador was starting to go a bit native. Hopefully, it wouldn't cause the Wizard too much trouble in his home nation, but as it was, he was glad to see the man was fitting in.

Matt circled back around his desk to find his own seat. "I'm sorry it's taken so long to meet with you, Ambassador. I meant to make room in my schedule before, but…"

The Wizard shook his head as he sat. "Think nothing of it, my lord. I understand that you have had… difficulties lately." His eyes rested briefly on the sling that Matt still wore over his arm before returning to Matt's face. "I would also like to express my personal gratitude that you survived the attack without serious injury."

A twinge of pain went through Matt's back as he leaned back in his seat. "I wouldn't say I escaped cleanly, but it could have been much worse."

Paralus nodded, his eyes serious. "And I heard the Maiden of Art had been injured. Is she…"

"She's recovering well." In truth, she was already starting wean herself off the pain medications, which had resulted in a predictable amount of crankiness, but at least the shouting and whining implied good health. "She'll soon be back at work in her museum, I'm sure."

The Ambassador nodded slowly. "That is good to hear. Both because what she's accomplished is nothing short of magnificent, and because our Coalition bears no small amount of responsibility for her presence here." He shook his head. "Unfortunately, though I wish I could simply discuss the wonders the Maiden has managed to gather, I must ask permission to discuss some things with you in private."

Matt shifted in his seat and felt his eyes narrow. After his previous experience, he wasn't exactly keen on sealing himself off from his lifeguards, but at the same time, Paralus and the Circle of Echoes had been mostly honest with him. If he had to pick someone to be less likely than Paralus to be an assassin, he would have had a hard search ahead of him. "Very well. Go ahead and cast your spell."

Paralus nodded, glancing at the lifeguards in the room. Both seemed to tense as he began the spell, but Matthew gestured for them to stand easy.

A moment later, a flare of magical energy indicated that their conversation would remain solely between the two of them. Matt nodded and sat back in his chair. "Well? Is there another threat the Circle of Echoes would like me to know about?"

"In a way." Paralus looked away and sighed. "The problem is with the Coalition itself, King Matthew. We are on the verge of breaking apart entirely."

He blinked. Of everything that could have happened, Matt hadn't expected that. "Are you serious? What happened?"

The Wizard gave him a crooked smile. "You did, my lord." He shook his head and gestured to the window and the city outside it. "The Western Coalition has stood for nearly a hundred years, King Matthew. We've been united against many threats. The Obsidian King couldn't defeat us, and the Red Sorceress failed to overthrow us. Our armies turned back the raids of the Wildmen, the encroachments of the Fireblood Empire, even the terrible warriors of the True Horde. And now…"

He shook his head. "It only took a handful of seasons, and you've already undone us. With peace, of all things."

Matt blinked as understanding dawned. "There's no longer a threat to keep all of you together."

Paralus nodded. "You are partially correct, but it is more than that. You've also become a force to drive us apart." He sighed. "Your reforms have been incredibly divisive. The Alterians are the most strident about the threat they represent, and their demands for the Coalition to take some part in stopping you have grown more and more aggressive as the Alliance has faltered. Their actions have only alienated other members of the Coalition, however. The Wuranis and Simarenal are already more worried about the Alterians than they are about you, while the Rusted Clans are beginning to debate whether they should open their borders to you and your trade. At the same time, the exiles you sent to the Order of the Bear have become the foundation for a new army. They feel secure enough to deal with the threats to the west and north without relying on the rest of us for strength."

He tilted his head, studying the Wizard. "And the Circle of Echoes?"

The Wizard drew in a deep breath. "My own nation remains… conflicted. The Alterians have already laid the blame for everything at our feet, an accusation that some of the other members of the Coalition feel is undoubtedly true. Many in my nation believe we should withdraw to our own concerns. After all, we share no borders, and our involvement with you has been… costly."

Matt winced. The loss of a powerful mage like Alerios must have been a painful one. "I had hoped that we could continue being friends, despite those who stood in our way."

Paralus gave him a forced smile. "We think alike, King Matthew. Unfortunately, it has been deemed… unwise to be seen as an ally to your Kingdom. We share borders with the Alterians, the Order of the Raven, as well as others who would be very hostile to us as a result."

"Lose a friend to avoid gaining two or more enemies?" Matt sighed. It made sense, though he hoped that losing the Circle of Echoes' friendly ear wouldn't be the worst problem to face. "I am truly sorry to hear that we won't be able to continue to work together."

"As am I, King Matthew. It seems like such a waste." Paralus shook his head and then paused. His hesitation continued, and when he spoke, he seemed back to his usual uncertainty. "There might be something you can do to at least slow the process, perhaps enough to allow us to salvage things. I understand you are unlikely to revoke the rights of your freeholders—"

Matt raised an eyebrow. "You are correct." It was a bit of an understatement. He had worked too hard to gain those rights for his people. No amount of diplomatic whinging would convince him to reverse course.

Paralus winced. "At the same time, the… revolution in the Pridelands is much more of a threat than anything you represent. The Alterians dislike them even more than they dislike you, and even those more friendly to you are… concerned about the events there. If you would unite with us in subduing them, it might lend you a certain credibility with the Coalition, as well as preventing our immediate separation."

Matt studied the Wizard for a long moment. It wasn't the worst proposition, especially when he was already preparing for a campaign there anyway, but something held him back from accepting it. He remembered the first peace treaty he'd signed with the Coalition, remembered their suspicion. The treachery of the Alterians replayed itself in his head, as well as the moment when they had dragged Tanya in to distract him.

He knew that most people, faced by the pleas of a friend, would reach out and do their best to help. Paralus and the Circle of Echoes had been a help—warning him about the Oath of Enmity, helping him launch the assault on Greyhenge, even smoothing the way for his peace treaty to secure his western borders.

Yet Matt wasn't most people. He was a King—and he remembered the fact that Tanya and all the others never would have been dragged into danger if the Western Coalition hadn't interfered. The Coalition might have stood for a long time, but it hadn't stood to help his people. Negotiating with the individual members would be easier than facing them all at once, and if another of them decided to make trouble after the treaty expired…

Matt committed to the course. He spoke in an even tone. "I'm sorry, Paralus. There's nothing I can do. If the Coalition does dissolve, then you and the Circle of Echoes are welcome to make whatever treaties with us that you want. Your people and your embassy will always be welcome here."

The Wizard stared at him for a moment. Then he heaved a sigh. "Thank you, King Matthew. I will convey that information to my monarch."

Paralus stood, and Matt followed suit. The Wizard bowed and shuffled out the door, still troubled by the Coalition's fate. Matt watched him for a moment, at least until he was out of sight and Gorfeld stepped back into the room.

Then he turned to him. "Gorfeld, tell the Council that I want to send emissaries to the Rusted Clans, Wuranis, and Simarenal. I want to see if we can open trade with all three of them, in addition to the Circle of Echoes."

Gorfeld paused, his eyes intent. "Trade, sire? If they accept…"

"Then they probably will see us as even less of a threat, while the Alterians will see us as more of one. The Coalition will fall apart all that much faster." Matt felt a twinge of shame and clamped down on it, hard. He wasn't even declaring war on anybody. If there was a more moral way to disarm somebody than by doing business with them, he didn't know what it was. "That, and we might need a bit of the money it might bring in."

The steward glanced back for a moment. Then he nodded. "Yes, sire. I'll tell them immediately."

As the Imp withdrew, Matt settled back in behind his desk. He spent a moment looking out the window, trying not to feel like some kind of schemer preparing a deadly trap. It took him a few minutes to shake off the feeling and settle back into his study of the maps he had of the Pridelands. The sooner he went there, the better it would all be.

Melren frowned. "I think you are making progress, sire. You just need to continue on this path."

Matt nodded. He had been making progress, just not as quickly as he'd hoped. With Melren's help, the Foundation of Fire had finally slipped into place. Now he was working his way through the mantras for Summer, something which the season was definitely helping him along with. In fact, the mantras appeared to be building much faster than even the ones for his last Source, using Spring. He wasn't sure if that was supposed to be the case, but he was happy enough with the result. With everything else that had happened, he knew better than to look a gift Warg in the mouth.

He wasn't the only one building a Source right now, however. Miguel had joined him the day after they'd met in Tanya's room. The big man was working his way through the mantras of Fire, his focus only enhanced by the fact that he couldn't practice much of anything else thanks to the wounds on his forearms. Once those were healed, however, he'd already asked several of the Orcs to help him train with a hammer and shield he'd found somewhere.

Jessica and Alicia had both joined as well, with their own ideas, of course. Alicia had chosen Earth for her first Element, while Jessica had settled on Water instead. Both women were also practicing with weaponry as well whenever the mantras became too much. The Maiden of the People had developed an unsettling fondness for knives, especially the long-bladed type that most of the freeholders carried, while the Maiden of Health had taken up the longsword. He'd heard her make complaints about not having the katana that he'd snapped in half during the Battle of the Ridge, but the weaponsmiths of Redspire had more things to worry about than reproducing that style of sword.

Riley, by contrast, had continued her own studies, ignoring weapons entirely. She'd apparently already been partway through building a new Source for Earth, and Dysyani had implied that the spell they needed lay along that path. The Maiden of Books had left Melren feeling a bit miffed at being ignored, but then again, he appeared to accept that anyone associated with the Speakers was a little odd.

The last student, however, seemed to be a lot more reluctant to spend time in the Arsenal. Jordan had made the occasional appearance, seeming to make some paltry progress towards his own Element of Air, but he hadn't touched a sword, axe, or bow, and he definitely hadn't been practicing on his own. Matt had heard some hints of him frantically working with some of the palace clerks, and he thought he knew the basic outlines of the Master of Coin's ideas, but most of it just seemed to be an attempt to get out of honest spellwork.

He smirked to himself and shook his head. At least the wound in his back was healing well. Soon enough, he'd be ready to start practicing with his mace again. It might slow his work with the mantras down, but better that than to be helpless in a fight. Matt had no intention of going anywhere without a weapon ever again.

When he looked back at Melren, however, the Imp was still frowning at something. He didn't seem to be unhappy with Matt's progress. In fact, he seemed rather distracted. It wasn't the best thing to see in one's magic tutor.

Matt cleared his throat. "Melren, is something the matter?"

Melren looked at him. Then he shook his head. "Not exactly, sire." He paused, glancing at the window, where Alicia could be seen fencing with one of the Goblins from the Royal First. "I was just wondering what else you intend to have me do."

A grin spread across Matt's face before he could stop it. "Are you getting bored, Melren?"

The former nobleman snorted. He gave Matt a stern look. "I don't know if that is possible around you, sire." Melren shook his head a second time, this time seeming a little rueful. "More that I am less sure of what I should be doing aside from advising you. The new troops are already beginning to reach the city, but they don't seem to have a place for me."

Matt raised his eyebrows. "You're saying that they don't want your help?"

A little half smile quirked Melren's lips. "You could say that, yes." He nodded to the nearby window overlooking the courtyard. "It looks like the majority of the incoming troops currently belong to the nobility, not the Low Folk. I'm assuming that you don't want me to share the royal mantras and spells with them?"

He snorted. "No, I think they likely have enough on their own."

Melren made a helpless gesture. "Then I'm afraid they aren't going to have much use for me compared to the Mage-Errants, sire. It's not like I can convince banners of Bloodsworn, Red Guard, and Shadow Hunters to rework everything that they do."

Matt frowned. "Weren't there some banners of High Guard due to arrive as well?"

The Imp winced. "I've been… discouraged from associating with them, sire. Apparently, by agreeing to share some of their techniques with the Mage-Errants, I've betrayed too much of my heritage to be considered trustworthy."

Reading on this site? This novel is published elsewhere. Support the author by seeking out the original.

There was honest pain in Melren's voice, though it was well buried beneath a layer of professionalism and scorn. Matt scowled; any attempt to force the High Guard to abandon their stubbornness was not going to end well, particularly not when they were all under the noses of the Council. He'd have to try a different angle.

Or perhaps not. The Council's kneejerk response to the news of the revolution in the Pridelands had been to reach out and demand for more banners to assemble. To at least some of their chagrin, the response had not been what they expected. Rather than providing more of their noble blood to march to war, a significant number of the Kingdom's noble families had fallen back on the principles of the Angru Declaration.

One of the provisions in the Declaration was that a noble could exempt themselves and their family from military service by paying for three freeholders to serve in their stead. As a result, a veritable horde of Irregulars was descending on Redspire. They'd be slower to assemble than the nobles, but they would be numerous enough to take on any horde of undisciplined rebels in the Pridelands.

They'd also be far less likely to turn up their noses at additional training, especially with the example of the Irregulars already in Redspire to guide them.

Matt looked over at Melren. "What about the Irregulars? Would you want to work with them?"

Melren blinked. "The Crown Guard should already have a significant number of Sources at their disposal—though I will admit they are likely crude and unhelpful. They were always intended to be more of a mundane force than a magical one, my liege."

"As for the Irregulars… they are temporary soldiers. Their Sources are far more likely to be occupied by magic that would ease their work as tradespeople or craftsmen. They won't want to replace those spells with ones meant purely for war."

He shook his head at the certainty in Melren's voice. "The Mage-Errants were technically a temporary group as well. We still taught them what they needed."

The High Imp opened his mouth to object and then paused. He tilted his head to one side and frowned. "Would we have enough time? You're supposed to bring them with you to the Pridelands."

Matt grinned. "I'd really only been planning on using the noble banners this time. The Council originally wanted to leave the Irregulars here, and they might agree to still do it if the situation down south isn't too desperate. That way, they get a rest and some valuable training while the rest are hard at work." He shrugged. "You might even be able to convince some of the Crown Guard to listen to you as well."

"Thank you, sire. I will see what I can do." Melren smiled. Then his smile turned a little mischievous. "For now, however, we shouldn't get distracted from your own work. The next time you speak that mantra, make sure to focus on the pronunciation and inflection during the third section. The last thing you need to do is slow down because you—"

Parufeth turned around and grinned at Matt. He spread his arms wide to indicate the empty brick room around them. "Well, sire, what do you think?"

Matt looked around at the space. The walls were of solid brick, as were the floors. A pair of windows looked out over the street below, giving them a decent view of the New Arsenal. Most of the room was clear and open, making enough space for a broad table and chairs.

Against the back wall in the corner near the outer wall, there was a fireplace with a chimney, something he'd been assured was a luxury all its own for most of the serfs and freeholders in the city. A small closet stood against the corner with the inner wall, where the plumbing facilities were located. Between them, there was a door that led to another broad room where the beds were supposed to be kept. More windows looked out over the broad alleyway between the buildings.

Compared to the size of houses back home, it was a cramped, dark space with little privacy and relatively low ceilings. From what Parufeth had been telling him, however, it was roughly three times larger than it needed to be for most families, if not more. Combined with the sturdy construction, the ability to use indoor plumbing, and have heating that didn't fill the room with smoke, it was apparently seen as a minor palace for the freeholders who would live there.

Matt nodded to the Gnome foreman, smiling at the pride and pleasure on the man's face. "Well done so far, Parufeth. Your workmen are outdoing themselves."

The Gnome grinned, his teeth bright despite the grime. "They absolutely have, sire. We should have the upper floors done soon enough, and once we have those in place, these first blocks should start attracting people like flies to manure." He paused. "If you'll pardon the expression, my liege."

Matt laughed and shook his head. "As long as the work gets done, Parufeth. You've been making progress with Miguel?"

Parufeth nodded. "He's been a great help, sire. It seems like he knows just where to look to keep people in line." He paused, and a grim look stole over his expression. "The boys and girls were very upset to hear about him getting injured. Him and the Maiden. We all were."

A twinge of guilt ran through Matt, along with an accompanying bit of pain in his back. "I'll pass on your well-wishes, Parufeth." Then he looked around the room again. "So, how much longer until these are done?"

"A few weeks at most, sire." Parufeth's grin returned, and the foreman gestured towards the exit. "Of course, that's just for these. For the next few, we'll need a bit more time."

Matt raised an eyebrow at him as they walked towards the door. "How many can you finish before the snows come?"

The Gnome glanced at him, his eyes going a bit vague for a moment. "I'd say… six, sire. Eight at the most, and that'd be pushing it." He peered over at Matt. "How many of these do we have planned?"

"Thirty-six, Parufeth. Six rows of six."

Parufeth stumbled a little as they headed for the stairs. "Six rows of… that'd take them halfway to the river! We'd be rebuilding half the city by the time…"

He trailed off and gave Matt another sharp look. "Should I ask what you have planned for the other half, my liege?"

Matt laughed. "Just you wait, Parufeth. I have plans." Then he sighed. "Probably too many, at this rate. My eyes are a bit bigger than my wallet."

The Gnome winced at the reference to the dwindling treasury. He made as if to say something and then seemed to think better of it. When he spoke again, it was as they were walking down the steps towards the ground floor. "And if you managed it, sire? What would we do?"

Matt glanced at him, amused at the honest curiosity in the Gnome's expression. He looked back as they walked out into the space between buildings; an arched roof of brick made the space into a covered walkway. "Well, once they're all built, we'd probably have most everyone living in these buildings, right? So we'd have plenty of space inside the walls to work with."

He walked towards the street, with Parufeth trailing after him. "Since everyone would be housed, we'd need a place for them to work and trade."

Parufeth frowned. "Would we, sire? The ground floor of each building here is reserved for shops of one sort or another."

"True, but they'd only have space for a handful of shops in each one. We wouldn't want everyone to get crowded." Matt grinned as they reached the street. He glanced at the ground floor in the building they'd just left. It stood as an empty floor space, waiting for some enterprising shopkeeper or craftsman to take up space there. There was probably room for two shops there, given how long the spaces were, but he had grander plans than just filling those.

He pointed to the space just beyond the lot that had been cleared for the Maiden's House. "Our next big project would be clearing a space for a market."

The Gnome beside him snorted. "A market, my liege? Like some village green?"

Matt raised an eyebrow. "I suppose. Think of it this way. It would be a place that all sorts of traders and merchants and craftsmen could use to set up a place inside the city. Think of the amount of goods that could travel through the city. You'd have things from all over the Kingdom and beyond, coming here to be seen and purchased and appreciated."

Parufeth grimaced. "I'd be thinking more of the noise, sire. If it is as big as you say, it'd be hard to get any sleep!"

He was about to wave away the objection, but Matt paused. The Gnome had a point. There was a reason nobody wanted to live right next to a stadium or a shopping mall back home. "You may be right, Parufeth." Then he grinned. "So what about something quiet instead?"

The Gnome gave him a wary look, apparently unnerved by the look on his monarch's face. "That does sound nice, sire." A slow grin grew on his dirty features. "After all, half my workmen are planning on living in these things. We'd like a good night's rest!"

Matt snorted. "Then maybe a library will do better here. Might fit with the museum better, anyway."

"A… library, sire?"

The confusion and worry in the Gnome's tone made Matt shake his head. "It's a place of learning. A spot where anyone can come and learn and read."

Parufeth's jaw dropped. "Anyone, sire? I thought you meant something more… personal. Like the libraries in the palace."

Matt shook his head again. "No. I'm thinking of establishing it for the sake of everyone here in Redspire. It would be a school for the Speakers to teach in as well." The design of a combined library and university began to form in Matt's head, a brickwork edifice to celebrate learning. It would be a strength to the people in his city, especially if he introduced the idea of asking the children to be instructed there. Plenty of them were already learning stories throughout the city from the gathered Speakers, but he wanted something more.

Then he sighed and reminded himself to not get ahead of his finances. "All in good time, though. We have the housing to build first. Then we can worry about the rest."

The Gnome was still staring at the spot where Matt had gestured. He nodded. "Too bad about the market. It might have been nice."

Matt grinned. "Oh, don't worry. We'll fit it in somewhere. Maybe next to the stadium."

"The… what, sire?"

Matt was still grinning to himself as he worked in his office. Parufeth had left a while before, looking a little overwhelmed at the extent of Matt's plans. It would take years to build all of it—and money he very much didn't have—but by the end of it all, the city would be reborn into something new.

He could almost see the skyline in his mind's eye. A hospital south of the library, and the market south of that. A building meant to house embassies and other visitors south of the New Arsenal, with a stadium—not a colosseum, of course—beyond that. Between the stadium and the market, a grand building meant to house the Council and the Assembly, safely distant from the palace and the New Arsenal, symbolically speaking, at least. At the center of all of them, a broad park meant to bring greenery and peace to a city that was bustling with life in his mind.

It was a vision of the future that he still had yet to reach, and as he looked at his finances—helpfully itemized by Jordan and Gorfeld working together—it seemed rather further away than he liked. Still, it was good to have ambitions for the future. Now all he had to do was figure out how to pay for it. His excitement started to fade as he waded through the specifics, but determination kept him at his desk for an hour, and then two.

He was still working away at how to pay for the food, equipment, and all the rest of the concerns for the expedition south, let alone his construction projects, when there was a knock at his door. Matt looked up, a little bleary from the details he'd been poring through, and then waved for the lifeguards to open it. "Come in."

To his surprise, it was Jordan who poked his head in. The man's face was flush with a mixture of worry and excitement that made Matt sit up in alarm. He'd never seen someone that happy and afraid at the same time without them bringing a bit of chaos into his life. Jordan smiled uncertainly. "Matt. Are you busy?"

"Always, but I have time for you. What's happened?" He waved for Jordan to come in and sit. The former business major did so with a few energetic strides. Behind him, the Orc assigned as his lifeguard stood up a polite distance away.

Jordan's smile slipped a little. "Remember that plan I was telling you about? Well, I have good news and bad news."

Matt grimaced. It was not his favorite game. "Let's change things up, then. Bad news first."

The man's face fell. He glanced down at the parchment in his hands. "Are you sure? I think it might be—"

"Fine, fine, good news first." Matt tried not to sound exasperated, but he failed. He gestured for Jordan to get started, and the man grinned like a schoolboy.

"All right then! As of this afternoon, you now have an additional sixty thousand marks in your treasury."

Dead silence followed the announcement. Matt stared at Jordan in utter disbelief. Sixty thousand marks was more than twice the money that Tanya had initially committed to her Maiden's House. It was enough to fund both his construction projects and whatever armies he needed for the better part of the rest of the year. He'd not only not run out of money in the next few weeks; he'd be able to last until the taxes from the fall harvest flooded in and refilled his coffers. Unless he had suddenly gone mad, Jordan had single-handedly saved the Kingdom from a financial crisis that might have doomed it.

Yet even as he was tempted to jump out of his chair and shout for joy, a part of him whispered he shouldn't get ahead of himself. Matt clamped down on his growing relief and joy, and nodded. "Now, the bad news?"

Jordan's enthusiastic smile fell again. "Ah. Well." He glanced at the lifeguards, as if worried about their presence, now. "In about a year, you're going to need to repay sixty-three thousand marks."

Matt blinked. He felt his eyes widen. "What?"

"It's not as bad as it sounds!" Jordan leaned forward to push his parchment over onto the desk. "By then you'll be getting more revenue from the new housing, and hopefully the wars will be over with. They almost already are, at this rate, and you'll probably have even more tribute coming in from the people you beat. Between that, the taxes, and maybe a bit of good budgeting and decent luck, you'll be able to come up with the funds fairly easily."

Stunned by the sums, Matt leaned back in his chair. His mind whirled as he parsed the information. "You managed to get a loan from someone. Who? They don't have banks here. Everyone noble has been too busy stabbing each other in the back to let their neighbors borrow from them, and the serfs weren't allowed to have enough for them to do it."

One of his lifeguards coughed into her hand; Mulwan gave Tiridine a look that made the Orc turn red and straighten up. Matt ignored them to focus on Jordan's answer. The man was frowning.

"I thought I already told you."

Matt winced. "I… might not have paid as much attention. Honestly, I didn't think whatever you were planning would get through the Council."

Jordan raised an eyebrow and grinned. "Shows what you know. They didn't just approve it. Half of them wanted to make it happen on the spot."

When Matt gave him an overly patient look, Jordan sighed. "All right, let's try again. It's not quite the same thing as a loan. Like you said, there aren't any banks to get it from, and asking for it from the nations around us would be a bad idea, I assume." Matt nodded, and Jordan plowed on. "So instead of getting it from the bank, we're getting the money straight from the people. Have you ever heard of a liberty bond?"

Matt blinked. He thought back to stories he'd heard. "That was something the States did during the Second World War, right?" He caught sight of Mulwan mouthing the words 'world war' with an appropriate level of horror, but tried to keep focused.

"Pretty much. Think of them as a fundraising campaign for the federal government." Jordan smiled. "People bought bonds, and the government promised to pay them back with interest in a certain amount of time. Ideally, after the costs of the war were done and things went back to normal."

Starting to understand, Matt nodded. "So you weren't selling currency or a bank note or something. You were selling bonds."

Jordan nodded. "At a five percent rate of return. Not the best rate, but I thought we needed to offer the nobility the chance to make a profit if we wanted them to buy in."

It was a line of thought that Matt knew was based in reality. "So you sold sixty thousand marks' worth of liberty bonds?"

"We called them Royal Bonds, but yes." Jordan reached over to tap the parchment. "I was expecting to take at least a month to sell that many, but the instant I offered the option to the Council, they jumped on it."

Matt sat back in amazement. "I'm surprised Voice Cholia didn't object. It seems like something she wouldn't have wanted to happen."

Jordan laughed. "Oh, she did. She made sure that at least a third of the bonds couldn't be sold to the nobility, so that they wouldn't be the only ones to profit. So about twenty thousand of those marks actually came from the freeholders, not the nobles."

The words sent a jolt of something like panic through Matt. He sat straight upright and stared at Jordan in something approaching horror. Taking a rich person's money wasn't something that really troubled him, but risking the small amount of money that the freeholders had to their names…

His fellow Human didn't seem to pick up on his concern. "So yeah, we have investors now, and the money is available to spend. All you have to do now is win the wars and get enough money scraped together over the next twelve months to keep the lights on and pay off the bonds."

Matt stared at him for a moment longer. Part of him wanted to ask what would happen if the bonds weren't paid back, but he had a feeling he knew. Redspire burned in his imagination, while sad little corpses hung from gibbets outside the castle gate.

He swallowed and nodded. "All right, Jordan. Well done." The other Human started to grin even wider, but Matt gave him a faint smile. "Please don't sell any more, though. As nice as the money is right now, I don't know that we'd be able to pay off that much more debt. At the very least, wait until the taxes come in, and we'll see how we look from there."

Jordan nodded. He sighed. "I understand. I'm just happy this went so well. It's probably a huge relief."

It was—along with a sudden looming sense of dread. Matt forced a smile on his face. "It is." Then his grin became a bit more genuine. "Of course, that means you won't be too busy to practice now, right? I believe that Jessica was making comments about someone slacking off."

To his surprise, Jordan snorted. "Is that right? Well, now that I've just saved the Kingdom from bankruptcy, I'll be sure to show her the error of her ways." He stood, dusting off his pants as he rose. "Is there anything else you need me for, Matt?"

Matt rose as well and shook his hand. "No. Well done, Jordan." The man smiled again. He practically skipped out the door, asking his lifeguard something about a crossbow. For a moment, Matt just stared at the closing door. Once it was shut, he gave his lifeguards a look. "Do I give you guys as many headaches as they do to me?"

Mulwan exchanged a look with Tiridine, who grinned widely. The Goblin looked back at him and didn't-quite-restrain a smile. "No, sire. Of course not."

He gave her a look and then snorted. Picking up the parchment, he found it was a list of those who had committed their funds to the victory bonds. Lord Torth's name—as well as Girtun's and Cholia's—were included along with the rest.

His people had given him another chance. Now he just needed not to waste it.