The queen slowly tapped her fingers on the arm of her chair, carefully considering the man cowering before her.

     “Three months.” Lord Chancellor Hythlodamus said on her behalf, his heavy baritone echoing throughout the otherwise empty chamber. “It has been three months, and you still cannot find the fourth.”

  “N-no lord chancellor, your majesty.”

  The tapping stopped, and the other man flinched in anticipation.

  “Be at ease Magister Andromachus.” The queen said, sighing. “I know you are not the one responsible for this failing.”

  “Yes, your majesty, thank you, your majesty.”

  “But while I recognize that you are not at fault, has the one who is responsible been punished for her failings?”

  “Yes, your majesty. The mage responsible has been stripped of her position and exiled from the capital. Last known reports indicate she is travelling south on the old Hawkthorne Road.”

  “Hm.” The queen frowned, mulling over the potential problems with that report. “Very well. How have our other guests responded to our most sublime empire?”

  “Oh, quite well your majesty!” Andromachus said, eager to change the subject. “Their knowledge is… well it’s amazing your majesty. The basics of their knowledge rivals that of some of our most well-educated scholars.”

  “And yet I needed warriors.” The queen growled. “Scholars are wonderful, but we needed heroes to lead our people.”

     “Peace, my queen.” The lord chancellor said, laying a hand on the back of her throne.

  Not her shoulder though. The lord chancellor may have been a close friend to her father, but she had been explicit that if he ever laid a hand on her shoulder again, even as a sign of support, she would have him disemboweled in front of the rest of the court. That would send a message as clear as day to the rest of the vultures.

  “Magister Maleficarum Andromachus, you may leave us.” The queen commanded, and the cowering man quickly made his best leg before retreating from the hall.

  “Bah.” The queen nearly spat as the old man who led the Royal Cabal of Mages scuttled from the room. “He may not be personally responsible, but it is his fault for letting the court mages get so sloppy.”

  “Indeed. I have heard disquieting rumors of nepotism and other… favors being traded in the Cabal’s living spaces. Perhaps it is time we look into other options of how the Cabal should be handled.”

  “I wish we could.” The queen seethed, rubbing her forehead. “Even though their power wanes with each passing year, the Cabal is guaranteed by the Imperial Charter.”

  “The army barely wants them anymore. Two hundred years ago they might have been the most dangerous force on the battlefield, but now?”

  “My grand-father may have been able to get away with amending the charter.” The queen said. “But as it stands now that is not possible.”

  “Yes, your majesty.”

  “And the fact that the Cabal has continually botched every task I have placed before them is not helping!”

  “They may not be similar to the warriors of eld.” The lord chancellor continued, tone frustratingly even. “But the advisors they have brought are starting to enact innumerable changes to our realm. In time, they may be even more useful than if they were just simply brutes.”

  “True as that may be, but brutes will help us win this war.”

  The lord chancellor sighed and opened his mouth, but when the queen glared at him, he stopped.

  That’s right. She thought murderously at him. I am not the same girl I was years ago, and you will not tell me how to rule anymore.

  “Should I organize another levy of the duchies to acquire more of your brutes?”

  His tone indicated what he thought of the idea, and as much as the queen wanted to say yes just to spite him…

  “Not now.” She said, keeping her tone level. “Not with the harvest coming, the gentry would riot if they could not maintain their work force.”

  “Very well, my queen.” He said smugly.

  “Not now.” The queen clarified, enjoying the pained look on his face. “Once the harvest has ended and winter comes however, we will organize the next levy as a training group. They will train as the cold comes and learn their craft. When the snow melts, they will replace half the current army’s forces. Those forces will be furloughed back to take care of next year’s planting.”

  “The rural lords- “

  “The rural lords will have to manage!” She snapped. “I am sick and tired of their constant complaints. This war is for the survival of the realm, if they cannot comprehend that, then perhaps they should reconsider their places in my court!”

  The lord chancellor was silent for a long minute, then nodded slowly. “Very well your majesty.”

  Closing her eyes, the queen took a couple deep breaths in, calming her nerves. “In order to placate them, lower the prices in the markets.”

  “We will need more caravans and ships to accommodate for the increased demand. The navy- “

  “By the gods if it’s not the rural lords complaining, then it’s the navy! Very well, allow them to construct the ships they have been clamoring for. But only half, otherwise we’ll start running out of trees to make the timbers for their damned boats.”

  “Of course. My lady, if I may ask, you seem more agitated than normal- “

  “If you finish that question, I will have you killed.”

  “Very well your majesty.”

  “If you must know, it is due to the meeting I had earlier today with the exchequer.”

  “Ah, I believe I see the problem.”

  “I bet you do. Our honored guests’ presence and their projects are hemorrhaging the treasury. While they may, they may, prove useful, at this point they are simply becoming a pit for the empire’s gold. Add that onto the fact that the war is already proving more expensive than we thought…”

  The lord chancellor hummed quietly in thought. “Perhaps there is an alternate way to improve the empire’s riches?”

  “If you have one, I would be happy to hear it. Ecstatic, even.”

  “I believe I may. It might take a few days to see if it will be viable, but I will present something to you shortly.”

  “Excellent. I hope this venture of yours will not prove to be a disappointment like the last. Three out of four.”

  “Yes, your majesty. I hear the bandits in the southern duchies and provinces have become increasingly dangerous. There are even reports of goblin tribes beginning to expand once again.”

  “Oh? Very well. Unfortunately, due to the war we might have to pull some of our garrison troops from the local area to shore up the northern fronts. I’m afraid it will leave the travelling paths more open to hazards, but we all must make sacrifices in such a difficult time.”

  The lord chancellor pursed his lips into a tight smile and bowed slightly. “Your will be done, your majesty. And the goblins?”

  “Goblins are always a nuisance. But rarely are they every more than just that – a nuisance. The militia should be able to handle it.”

  “And if they don’t?”

  The queen shrugged. “The southern provinces have always been more independently-minded than the north. If they cannot handle it on their own, then we shall have to bring the army back in and… reassess their situation.

  “Very well, your majesty.”

  He then turned and walked away, leaving the queen alone in the great hall.

  Victoria sighed and slouched on the throne once she was sure Hythlodamus was gone, taking off the thin band of gilded metal that made up the daily crown of the Empire of Somaris. It wasn’t physically uncomfortable; in fact, it was just the opposite. The rulers of Somaris long ago had decided that for the day-to-day running of the nation, the kings and queens would only have to wear a small circlet of metal.

  The official crown used for ceremonial affairs was much bulkier and uncomfortable to have to deal with for long periods of time. Despite how nice it may be however, the weight of the responsibility behind the thin piece of metal made it damn heavy to wear at times.

  There had been better kings and queens of Somaris, Victoria knew. Titans who had led her nation through trials and tribulations that would have made any ruler weep with fear and helplessness. She was not her grandfather. In fact, as these things went, Victoria would have placed herself solidly among the middle of the pack when it came to the rulers of her empire.

  Perhaps a little below average if she was feeling particularly morose. That meant she had to follow her advisors demands more often than she would have liked, she couldn’t dismiss the Royal Cabal of Mages, and she didn’t have anywhere near the popularity enough to survive a coup if it came to one.

  That was partially due to the damned war. Victoria rubbed her forehead, feeling another headache coming on. The war hadn’t been her fault, not exactly. The policies set down by her honored father had been… ill-conceived in retrospect, and by the time she had taken the throne the path to war had been already laid and had been impossible to stop without weakening her own position even further.

  So, she had taken a chance, a desperate and incredibly expensive chance. To bring forth advisors and warriors who would come and save the empire. Of course, only three had come thanks to an incompetent mage, but she had already been punished for her failings. Still, the ideas and innovations the heroes were bringing did interest her greatly. But they weren’t helping her empire fast enough.

  Victoria sighed and placed the crown back on her head. She had an empire to lead, a war to win, and a host of advisors and supplicants who wanted her throne.

  Perhaps if she was lucky some of her problems would kill the others and spare her the headache of having to do it herself.

 

--##--

 

     Penelope hesitated at the edge of the forest, looking into its darkened depths with no small amount of trepidation. She knew she shouldn’t have slipped away like she did, but her father was used to her being gone for long periods of time. After all, he was so busy he barely had enough time to spend with her as it was. A day of missing time with her would barely go noticed.

     No, the real source of her trepidation - she wouldn’t allow herself to call it actual fear - was due to the comments of that fascinating man. The possibility of goblins being in these woods… worried her. Penelope was sure that she could take care of a single goblin on its own, she had come better prepared than last time, but from everything that she had heard goblins were rarely on their own.

     Still, she wasn’t going to let that stop her. She had been playing in this forest since she was a young girl, and even if goblins had started to come back, she wasn’t going to let them keep her away.

     Taking a deep breath in, Penelope squared her shoulders, and started walking into the mass of trees. She had, of course, told her father about the goblins, and he had forbidden her from leaving the manor grounds until the militia could clear them out. She had made up a story about hearing the rumors from one of the woodcutters in town to satisfy her father’s curiosity, and thankfully he had been too concerned with the goblins to question her further.

     Like she had told William however, her father’s restrictions weren’t going to stop her, and Penelope had resolved to visit William again as soon as she could escape her duties. It had taken a week, but the stars had aligned enough where nobody would notice her slipping out. She should have told somebody about William himself, but he was just too interesting to let him get arrested.

     The man was just simply fascinating. The idea of a naturalist, living alone in the woods to come to a greater understanding of himself and his place in nature, or his connection with the gods… it was a heady idea. She had heard of such men and women before but had never dreamed she would meet one. And one so versed in fashion as well!

     The idea that such a well cultured man had travelled all the way north from near the capital to her little village was like something out of an adventure book. He wasn’t half-bad looking either, she had to admit. He stooped most of the time, as if he was standing in a room that was too small for him, making him seem small and unthreatening. But there was something mysterious about him as well. He had been frustratingly vague during their conversations, revealing little about himself or where he came from. That he was cultured there was no question, but where he had gotten his education or anything else was still a mystery.

     Penelope’s thoughts were cut off when the underbrush rustled in front of her, her hand dropping immediately to her weapons at her belt. The air practically crackled with tension around her as she tried to make out what was rustling in the trees to her right.

     She nearly had a heart attack when a deer came bursting out of the brush. It stopped to stare at her for a bewildering second, its deep brown eyes gazing directly into hers, then it snorted and bounded away, disappearing once again into the forest. Penelope relaxed, chuckling slightly at her anxiety, then immediately froze as a small green form burst out onto the game trail where the deer had just been.

     Baleful yellow eyes glared at her, and Penelope took a step back at the barely contained hatred simmering just beneath the surface.

     The goblin was taller than she thought it would be, which a small part of Penelope’s mind noted was an odd fact to focus on right now. The scraps of leather and chainmail it had on as armor were dirty and worm, but the short spear it raised at her was sharp and clean. Filthy cracked lips raised away from horrifically pointed teeth, and with a yipping war cry that sent chills down her spine, the goblin charged her.

     Almost without thinking, Penelope’s hand dropped to the butt of her pistol and drew it, just like she had been taught. Before the beast had even crossed half of the distance her finger was pulling the trigger, and the cock holding the flint swept down and sparked against the frizzen. With a cough of white smoke, the bullet smacked into the chest of the goblin, dropping it instantly.

     Penelope stared at the body of the first living thing she had ever killed, and thought she was going to be sick. A pool of thick, dark blood began to spread from its chest, and her father’s pistol dropped from her numb hands.

     She was never given the chance to be sick, as the same yipping war cry echoed from the woods all around her. Dozens of pairs of hateful yellow eyes in filthy green faces started to emerge from the underbrush, and Penelope knew she had made a mistake. She should not have come into the woods with only a knife and a pistol, she should have-

     The first arrow flew towards her, released from a vicious looking short bow held by one of the beasts. It missed her, but it did jolt her out of her reverie, and she turned and ran.

     Penelope crashed through the forest, ignoring any of the obstacles or trees in her way as she desperately tried to escape. She had nearly fallen countless times, and her clothes were ripped and torn from tree branches she couldn’t avoid. Still, the yipping war cries of the goblins echoed behind her. She wasn’t sure how far the edge of the forest was, but she thought she had to be close, considering how long she had run. If she could get out of the forest to where the woodcutters were working, she would be safe.

     She never saw the root that jutted out an inch farther than the others before, catching her foot and sending her sprawling to the ground. Her head bounced against the ground, and the entire world spun, coming in and out of focus. She did know that it would be her death however, as the war cries of the goblins took on a triumphant roar. Turning around, Penelope saw her doom as a goblin jumped in the air, landing on her chest, and forcing all the air out of her lungs. The goblin raised its short dagger, and Penelope closed her eyes, praying desperately that death wouldn’t be painful.

     The weight from her midsection was gone in an instant, and Penelope knew she was dead. It didn’t hurt nearly as much as she had expected though, which was a pleasant surprise. The sound of the goblin’s war cries continued, which was a little disappointing. She thought that the heavens had been waiting for her, not… whatever this was.

     Tentatively she opened her eyes and stared in stunned surprise at what she saw. The goblin who had stabbed her, or who had been about to stab her, lay on the ground, part of its neck and chest crushed into a disgusting gory mix. Another goblin, no, two goblins were dead nearby with similar wounds. The strange yipping war cries were disappearing back into the woods as the goblins fled.

     “Bastards.” A familiar voice said, and Penelope looked up to see her savior.

     William Amsel stood not a foot away, his blue eyes filled with a vitality she had never seen before in anybody else, almost dancing like fire as he looked around. A thin sheen of sweat covered his face and hands, but the wind was gently blowing his brown robes against his body. His red hair had come loose, and was also being kept out of his face, allowing his sharp cheekbones and jawline to stand out against the midday sun. Gone was his slouch, he was standing at his full height with his shoulders back, a triumphant and ferocious expression on his face.

     In that moment she knew she was safe, the how didn’t matter, but she had been saved by this… this hero.

     “All that time worrying for nothing.” William said, before looking back down at her. “Are you okay, did they hurt you?”

     “No.” Penelope said breathlessly, still trying to recover from having a goblin crash down onto her. “I don’t think so.”

     He knelt beside her, and gently poked and prodded her body politely. “Well, it doesn’t look like there’s any arrows stuck in you.”

     “Are you sure? I feel kind of… numb.”

     William flashed her a smile. “Trust me, I know from experience that you’d know if you had an arrow in you. You’re just numb from running. Only some minor cuts and bruises from the trees, and those will go away in time. Can you stand up?”

     “I think so.” With his help, Penelope slowly stood up, looking around in horror at the carnage before her. “Did you do this?”

     “Ah, yeah.” He rubbed the back of his head. “I got a little carried away. I heard you were in trouble and came as quickly as I could.”

     “But how did you know?”

     “Let’s just say a little bird told me.”

     Penelope paused, trying to figure out what that meant, and swayed slightly on her feet, feeling sick. William was there to steady her and helped her sit down against a tree while he frowned at her eyes.

     “You’re not looking so good; I think you may be in shock. Maybe a concussion.”

     She looked at him for a long moment, trying to figure out what he was saying. “Shock?”

     “I really don’t know; I should have taken that first aid class…”

     Penelope blinked. “What?”

     “Never mind that. I need to get to somewhere safe. Maybe… no that would never be okay. Where’s your home?”

     Idly Penelope wondered where he wanted to go, but pointed back towards the edge of the forest. “Back that way. Through the forest and into the village.”

     She yawned and swayed some more. “But I think I might take a nap before we go.”

     “No wait don’t- “

     It was too late. Penelope was simply exhausted, and her head felt fuzzy. But she was safe, and that was all that mattered. In a heartbeat, she was already fast asleep.