Kingdom of Iron: Tyrant's Fall

The road south was a familiar one, now, even though it was now bathed in sunshine instead of half-buried in snow.

As the Royal First loped out of the city, the people of Redspire gathered to cheer them off. Matt spent half the trip waving to the crowds and trying not to be disturbed by the number of people who lifted bare daggers in response. The fervor of the freeholders was starting to get a little unnerving, and not just for the members of the Council that had mentioned it. He'd already had to have repeated proclamations posted throughout the city to absolve the Blackleaf Clan of any responsibility for the assassination attempt in the Maiden's House. It had been necessary after he'd heard rumors of mobs roaming the streets, looking for unaccompanied nobles or Shadow Hunters to answer for the assassins' crimes.

Fortunately, at least they were passionately supporting him instead of hating him. That fact alone made him sure that he'd find Redspire secure when he returned. To paraphrase Machiavelli, the love of the people was a better fortress than the city walls could ever provide. He just hoped that the news of the revolution in the Pridelands wouldn't stoke things a little too far.

At the very least, all of the mud and slush of the winter was completely gone. Even with the hot sun overhead, it was a wonderfully easy journey along the road that led to Shadowfen. It got even easier as they entered the Darkwood, where the shade of the trees sheltered them from at least part of the heat.

It took two days to reach Shadowfen. Blackleaf's Matriarchs welcomed them, and the city enthusiastically resupplied their supply carts for the journey south. Thankfully, they didn't present him with any more assassins to employ; the last set had done more than enough, though he took care to emphasize that he didn't blame them for the wayward Goblins' actions. The Royal First left the Darkwood with full carts and stomachs, with the rousing sound of cheering Goblins to accompany them into the Sortenmoors.

Once there, they were once again confronted by the sights of the destroyed villages of the Sortenmoors. In some places, they were slightly more hidden by sprouting weeds than they had been in the wintertime and spring; in others, the lack of ice and snow meant that the ruined homes and barren fields were all that much more stark.

They made good time across the Sortenmoors, passing by those few settlements that remained. Greyspring welcomed them even more grandly than Shadowfen had, throwing a feast to celebrate the return of something resembling peace to their lands. Captain Snolt looked a little amused by it all as he glared around at the freeholders, but most of the rest of the Warg Riders just accepted the hero's welcome as their just due.

Then they were off across the moors again, marching their way along towards the final secure crossing for the Blackstone River. Matt started to hear the first grumbles as they walked that last road; the soldiers had been driven a bit harder than he would have liked, but it was better to move fast than to arrive late, especially this time. His officers managed to keep everyone in line and ready to fight, although there were no longer signs of rampant banditry or invasion as they moved.

It was on the third day, as they were riding past the former capital of the Sortenmoors, a city called Celriiston, that Snolt sighed in satisfaction as he rode alongside Matt. The Goblin Captain had once again nudged his way past the lifeguards. They were more than used to his actions, but they still glowered at him as he and his enormous, battlescarred Warg pushed their way into the protective circle. Matt restrained a smile, while Nelson greeted the Warg's arrival with a too-nonchalant huff of air.

"Is there anything I could help you with, Captain?"

Snolt gave him an incredulous look. "Isn't it supposed to be the other way around, sire?"

Matt shrugged and smiled. "It certainly doesn't always seem that way."

The Goblin chuckled to himself and nodded. "Well, then, if you wouldn't mind returning my best scout, that would be a great help, sire."

He glanced over at where Gwelfed was riding with the lifeguards, her smaller and faster Warg easily dwarfed by the warbeasts around her. She seemed entirely comfortable in her place, even as she chatted with Tiridine and Mulwan. "Are you sure she'd go back, Captain? She seems to enjoy being attached to the lifeguard."

Snolt winced, clearly regretting his earlier decisions. "I knew I shouldn't have lent her to you. That's the problem with good people. You just get to the point where you like them, and then somebody decides they need their talents more."

Matt chuckled to himself. "Well, if you feel any better, she's practically saved the Kingdom quite a few times. Your eye for talent is something to be proud of. Maybe I should have you switch to a training role."

The Goblin scowled as if Matt had insulted his mother. "Why would you do that to me, sire? A Goblin like me is meant for the battlefield, not some garrison or light-duty post. Do you see me retiring to some nursery in Redspire? No. Give me another war and another charge any day. Let the young and foolhardy sit around and waste their days in a barracks somewhere."

He eyed the Captain with amusement. "You know, we are headed somewhere on a diplomatic mission. There isn't likely to be any fighting at all."

Snolt grinned at him. "Ah, but I know you, sire. Wherever you are, that's where the fighting will be. Sure as the rain comes."

Matt grimaced. "Well, I hope you are wrong this time, Captain. We're just going there to talk."

"Sure, sire. Sure." Snolt laughed to himself and shook his head. "Just keep telling yourself that."

As they moved south past Celriiston, the terrain grew more and more familiar. They were getting closer and closer to the town of Bridgeton, to the point where they actually joined the road that Matt had used to move north into the Broken Hills. Heading in the opposite direction, it still seemed somewhat nostalgic.

The night before they reached the town, his troops settled in for the night. A short rainstorm had blown through in the afternoon, just enough to wet their clothes a little before fading away. It had left the following night cool enough to be comfortable, but still too cloudy to reveal any stars above.

Matt spent some time tinkering with his mantras as the soldiers bedded down. He'd been trying to finish laying the last part of the Foundation for his new Source; his completion of Summer had left him with a final choice of Aspect. The only two real options for him were either Soul or Heart.

Exploring the Soul branch of things might have appealed to him, but he didn't know of anyone who had those kinds of spells available. The only real users might have been Speakers like Dysyania, but the Frost Elf obviously wasn't going to have anything with a basis in Fire and Summer. Waiting and taking the Soul Aspect with his next Source, made with Water and Winter, would be a better long-term strategy.

With that in mind, Matt had selected Heart as the final piece of the new Source. He'd made some progress, though it seemed like the mantras were progressing far slower than the ones for Fire and Summer had. Between the Copperflame Goblins, the Red Moon Orcs, and the High Imps, there had to be enough Fire users out there to supply him with some spells. Maybe, if he worked hard enough, he could have something he could use during the next battle or assassination attempt.

He shook his head to dismiss that line of thought. It wasn't like he didn't have something else to worry about, anyway.

Matt nodded to the lifeguards who were assembling his tent and made his way over to where the carriage that carried Tanya and the others. They had their own batch of lifeguards making sure they got their own tents and bedding in place. Tiridine nodded at him as he joined them, and the others turned to look at him. Riley was the first to react. "Matt! Why are you here?"

Miguel grinned at him. "Come over to get a taste of honest work, King?"

He gave the big man a roll of the eyes. "I've dealt with plenty of tents, thanks."

Tanya snorted. "You have to remember, he was a cowboy before a King, Miguel. I'm sure he has all kinds of campfire stories he would love to share."

"Not tonight, Tanya, no." He gave her a closer look. She still seemed a little pale, but the rough trails and long journey didn't seem to have hurt her all that much. "Are you still recovering well, Tanya?"

She lifted her nose as if he'd waved trash in her face. "Of course I am. I'm doing just fine." Miguel made a so-so motion with his hand, just out of her line of sight, and Matt nodded.

"Glad to hear it." He looked around at the others. "I have something I need to talk with you about."

Riley nodded, her face animated and happy. "We're almost to Bridgeton, right? That means we could be talking with Lucy any day now."

Matt gave her a calm look. "That's actually part of why I need to talk with you." She gave him a curious frown, and he sighed. "Look, first of all, we don't know that this person is Lucy. For all we know, it's some Knight that Lucy knew, or someone that works with Lucy, or maybe is someone who got a lot of information out of Lucy. Don't be disappointed if it isn't her."

The Maiden of Books just rolled her eyes in impatience, but Jessica nodded. "That's good advice. Was that all?"

He looked her in the eyes. "The real thing I need to speak with you about is what happens if it is Lucy." Matt paused, knowing exactly what kind of reaction he was likely to get from the next statement. "If it is her in charge, you need to know that I can't let you give her advice or help her. Not until we have a peace treaty in place."

Riley and Alicia both made noises of protest, while Jordan folded his arms and frowned. Miguel looked at Tanya, who met his gaze and silently shook her head. He scowled, but nodded.

Jessica, on the other hand, glared at him with a clear intent not to comply. "And why not? She was our friend long before we met you, and there's no reason why we should give you more loyalty. What gives you the right?"

Matt lifted his mace and waggled it in the air. "You mean besides the force of law that I wield inside my own Kingdom?" She paused, and he sighed again. "Look, I know you are all in a bad situation here. You've been kidnapped from your homes, and you've been asked to deal with things no reasonable person should. I recognize that."

He looked around to meet each of their eyes. "At the same time, I've given you all a lot of power and influence as a matter of trust. Jordan, I let you look at a lot of information about the Kingdom's finances, about troop costs, budgets, all of it. Do you really think it would be a good idea for me to let you turn around and advise someone who is currently at war with us?"

The Master of Coin blinked. He looked around at the others and slowly unfolded his arms. His obstinate expression softened as well before he looked away. "Well, no."

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Matt looked at Alicia next. "You have seen all kinds of data on how my people are living, eating, and dying. That'll tell anyone who wants to know where a weak spot in my nation might be." He looked at Jessica. "You've been talking with all kinds of people in Redspire, including those who might be interested in having outside support for a riot."

Riley spoke up at that point, her voice petulant. "Matt, you don't have to worry about this. It's Lucy, she'd never—"

He pointed at her directly. "You're the worst one. You've been knee deep in the mantras, histories, and spell books. No nation in this world would let you say a single phrase to anyone outside of their circle of trust. Most rulers would kill you for even considering it. The same goes for the mantras that Melren's been teaching all of you."

Jessica shifted her shoulders. "They're just mantras, Matt. Everyone has magic here."

"They do not have those, Jessica." He shook his head. "It's the difference between a handgun and a howitzer. Whether you realize it or not, you've been given the real, weapons-grade stuff that any noble house would love to torture out of you, and that's besides the other secrets I've given you access to. There's more than one reason you have lifeguards, now."

He paused for long enough that the words sank in. Then he continued in a low voice. "So, let me say again. Until we're at peace, no matter who is in charge of the revolutionaries, you are not to offer words of advice, information, or especially any magic assistance to anyone on the other side of that river. Understand?"

Still seeming stubborn, Jessica opened her mouth. Matt looked at her before she could speak. "If you cannot agree, then you stay at Bridgeton under guard. I'll make sure Grufen keeps you busy, protected, and watched until I get back. Now, do you understand?"

She shut her mouth. Tanya gave a low chuckle. "We get it, cowboy. Now tell us what else you're worried about."

He looked at her, and she raised an eyebrow at him. Whatever her condition, she didn't seem particularly scared, but then again, she was hopefully the one he had to worry the least about. Matt grunted and looked back at the others. "The other thing you need to think about before we reach her is that Lucy may not be the same person you remember her as. It might not be the same reunion you are picturing in your head."

Riley grumbled something under her breath, but Miguel spoke up. "What do you mean, vato?"

Matt grimaced. "If it is her, then Lucy has not just been having fun in a castle. She's apparently led a bloody and violent revolution that has killed every noble they can get their hands on. Between the battles, the purges, and the executions, she's had to make the kinds of decisions that change a person. You need to be prepared to see that."

Jessica glanced at Riley, who had gone pale. "You don't know that. It could have been justified."

Matt stared at her. "When I say the nobles are all dead, did you think I only meant soldiers? Even if you didn't, were you thinking it was adults only?" Jessica blanched, and he continued in an iron voice. "When you are dealing with nobility, and you take over their territory, one of the most important things to do is to kill all of them. Any heirs or relatives that you leave alive are going to have a claim on the land you just stole, and even if they don't have any power, your enemies might use them as an excuse to attack you and put a puppet on the throne you took."

Jordan shook his head in clear disbelief. "Why are you telling us this? We're already not going to help her until there's peace. Why are you trying to make her a monster?"

"She's no more a monster than I am, Jordan, but ruling a nation means you have to be practical about where you spend your charity." Matt saw him grimace and continued. "I'm telling you this because her letter specifically demanded that I bring the prisoners in the Tower of Penance to our negotiations—and some of those prisoners aren't peasants."

A silence fell. Then Jessica's eyes grew wide. "They're nobles. Nobles whose families she killed."

Matt nodded. "There's a few of them, yeah. The most important one is a man by the name of Dornal." He paused. "Prince Dornal. He's the son of the former King of the Pridelands."

"Which would make him heir to the whole country, right?" Miguel looked around. "That seems like someone she wouldn't want to bring back home."

He gave the big man a steady look. "I mean, he wouldn't be home long. None of them would. Anyone I return to the revolution who isn't a peasant is going to get a welcome home in the form of a quick, public execution. Especially Dornal."

Jessica nodded, looking a little stunned. "To make sure there weren't any people with claims to her territory. Otherwise, they could be used as leverage, right? By rebels, invaders, anyone with a grudge…"

Jordan looked at her incredulously. "You believe it?"

She gave him a sharp glare. "I… don't know. He has no reason to lie, and it does make sense. She'd have to think about it at least."

Alicia spoke up before Jordan—or Riley, who was looking increasingly miserable—could respond. "So, what do you want us to watch for? Just some plot to get to the Tower and kill the nobles?"

Matt shook his head. "Let me worry about that. The point is, that you don't just give her your loyalty blindly, and you don't try to disrupt things by just giving her what she wants." He hesitated, wondering if he should give any of his plans to deal with the situation away. "Also, don't try to 'correct' me if something feels off. At least not in public."

Jessica's eyes narrowed. "You're going to lie. Aren't you?"

He returned her stare. Then Matt shrugged. "Half of diplomacy is lying to people. It's how you shake hands with someone you'd rather stab."

"Must be why I've made it so far." Tanya laughed, though she cut off with a wince and a hand pressed to her side. "Don't worry, Matt, I can keep an eye on them for you. If anyone looks like they aren't staying with the program, I can give them a reminder."

Miguel turned to look at her, his expression skeptical. "I don't know if you are in a very good condition to—"

He abruptly straightened up with a jerk and clapped his hand to the back of his neck. Tanya smiled. "I still have my magic, even if my body isn't perfect yet, corazon. A little chill can be plenty useful sometimes."

Matt chuckled a little as he watched the big man scowl at her. He'd chosen his bed, so now he was welcome to lie in it. "Thank you, Tanya. Just make sure not to convince the Knights that we're attacking them. It has to be subtle."

She had the gall to look offended. "I can be subtle! Besides, I need them to be at peace with us. How else am I supposed to negotiate a few art pieces out of them?"

He grimaced. "We aren't going to the Pridelands for more art, Tanya."

"You aren't." Tanya sniffed. "I have to make up for that disaster during our opening night. Something from outside the Kingdom would probably make enough of a stir…"

Matt gave up on trying to convince her otherwise. "Just… keep your wits about you and be careful when we're talking. We've all worked hard, and hundreds of people have laid down their lives to make this possible. We don't want all those sacrifices to be in vain because we couldn't contain our egos for a few discussions."

He looked around until the others all nodded and murmured an acceptance. Even Jessica seemed somewhat subdued as she turned away. Feeling at least a little satisfied that they wouldn't be interrupting him during the negotiations, or giving away state secrets for free, Matt turned to head back to his own tent. There was still a little time he could use on the mantras, after all.

Matt only made it a few steps before Riley caught up with him. She caught hold of his sleeve and he stopped, surprised. Her expression was fierce as she leaned in toward him. "You're wrong about Lucy. She's a good person. She is."

He looked down at her, seeing the earnestness in her expression. "Good people can be just as dangerous as bad ones, Riley. Sometimes even more so."

Riley shook her head. "Lucy is better than most. She watched out for us. When she escaped, she said she'd come back for us."

For a moment, Matt debated what answer to give her. Then he sighed. "Riley, do you think I'm a good person?"

A painful heartbeat of silence answered him. Riley drew back slightly, her hand falling away from his sleeve. She stared at him in the gathering dark. "I want to believe you are."

"Yet I've killed plenty of people. Hundreds. Thousands." He tried not to think of Greyhenge. The ground still shook in his imagination; the sky still howled. "Not all of those people were much different from the ones she's killed. More than I'd like were innocents."

Matt looked away for a moment. "I tried hard to avoid it. Did my best. She might have too." He stepped away, trying not to look at her face. "Or she might not. Until I know which, we have to be careful. That's all I'm saying. All right?"

She didn't answer for another moment. Then she spoke in a small, soft voice. "All right." He didn't look back as she walked back to the others, trying to banish the memories clouding his mind. It was a long time before he walked back to his tent, and longer still before he could summon the clarity to begin the mantras again.

Finally, after six days of marching across his Kingdom, they arrived at Bridgeton.

Matt recognized the patches of forest that had hidden forces from the Order of Ravens; he caught sight of the cleared plain where he'd nearly died. As he looked, he thought he could even trace out the furrows in the ground where he had built a frantic defense. One faint depression in the earth marked the spot where a Prince of Ravens had been buried at the bottom of a deep, dark pit.

Beyond that wartorn terrain, the walls of Bridgeton rose, and above those, the flags of many different banners were flying. One of them rose a bit higher than all of them, telling him where Margrave Grufen was waiting. Matt smiled as they approached. Bells were already ringing, and the doors swung open to welcome them back.

"There haven't been any raiders or attacks across the river, my liege. Only the occasional scout." Grufen poured Matt another drink before returning the flask to the table. "It's as if they only want to make sure that we are staying on our side of the Blackstone, rather than looking for openings for their own troops. I'd say it's a sign of weakness, but I know that there are still forces in Mornal Castle. They just aren't pushing like they used to."

Matt nodded. If it was really Lucy in control in the Pridelands, it would make sense that she wouldn't be attempting to restart the war. She didn't have an Oath driving her on a mission of revenge, after all, so she could still act rationally. "You haven't seen any sign of the rest of the Alliance?"

Grufen shook his head. "Not really. A few scouts reported some banners near Gronville, but aside from that, they've been quiet." He took a drink himself, his gaze momentarily distant. "I've heard that there hasn't really been any movement on the Alterian border, either. Their new alliance partner doesn't seem to have born them much fruit."

He grimaced as he took his own sip out of the cup. The first news Grufen had shared with him had been that the Western Coalition had officially dissolved. As soon as they could, the Alterians had immediately tied themselves to the remaining members of the Alliance. None of the other western Elves, nor the Rusted Clans of the Dwarves had followed suit, however, and the peace treaty between the Alterians and the Kingdom was still in force.

It meant that the Alterians would only really be able to defend Alliance territory and funnel troops into the Broken Hills through their own lands, but the members of the Alliance weren't exactly in the best position to launch those kinds of attacks. Hopefully, they wouldn't swear the same damn Oath that had kept the war going this long; otherwise, they might take the risk and launch an actual attack of their own…

Matt mentally waved away those worries and refocused on Grufen. "Have there been any scouts on that flank so far?"

The Margrave shook his head in answer. "No. Only the usual Alterian patrols." He smiled. "Angru has been careful to watch for any 'raiders' attacking from Alterian territory, but it appears the supply of would-be bandits has dried up recently. Perhaps the mercenaries heard what had happened to their last batch."

With a snort, Matt swirled his drink in his cup. "Hopefully. The last thing we need is more trouble from them." He sipped again and set the cup down. "The sooner we manage to lay this whole thing to rest, the sooner we can turn our attention to other things."

"I agree." Grufen glanced out the window, as if examining the view of the terrain beyond the bridges. The traces of broken Dwarven earthworks were barely visible on the opposite shore. "Do you believe that this… Southern Lioness will listen to you, sire?"

Matt blinked at the uncertainty in Grufen's tone. He studied the Orc a moment. "I hope so. Why? What have you heard?"

"Rumors, sire. The scouts occasionally… talk with people on the other side of the river." Grufen grinned at him. "This woman is a formidable one. She is apparently the commander that turned back the Fireblood Empire from the Pridelands' southern border."

He felt his eyebrows raise. "You're serious? That was her?"

Grufen nodded. "It was. Apparently, she was quite an experienced battle leader. She fought several battles with the Order before they were destroyed as well. By all accounts, the peasants of the Pridelands believe in her ability. I would suggest that you do not underestimate her."

Matt nodded slowly. "Do you think you could hold her off if you needed to?"

"All things are possible, sire." Grufen gave him a grin and a shrug. "By all apparent reason, I should be able to hold anyone here. The bridges are a massive tactical advantage, and my patrols would warn me if she should attempt to ford the river elsewhere. If she attempts to bypass us, she would leave herself vulnerable to the kind of ambush that you managed in your first battle."

Grufen's tone did not inspire the confidence that his words should have. "And?"

The Orc's smile faded. "And I have seen you defy worse odds than those, sire. Nothing you should have been able to do could have turned back the Army of Heroes, or stopped Teblas from killing you at the Forks. Time and again, you've found a way to not only survive, but thrive when everyone else would have fallen."

Matt snorted. "It doesn't seem like you to compliment me this much, Grufen."

"It's not a compliment. It's a warning." Grufen leaned forward. "Thus far, you've managed to stay alive because Fortune has favored you, and your own wisdom was superior to your opponents. This time, you may be facing someone almost as favored as yourself."

The Margrave paused, as if letting those words sink in. Then he leaned back and nodded. "Speaking as someone who would like to see your reign continue, be careful, my liege—and return safely."