“Two hundred men should be able to manage that task, your Highness,” Pael snapped. “Not in a hundred years has a viable threat come out of those marshes.”
The room was silent then. All eyes fell on King Glendar. He seemed to be relishing the moment. It was one of the few times that Pael had left an important decision open for him to make. The intensity of the wizard’s glare wasn’t lost on him as he pondered his response. Pael was right, he decided. A few hundred men should be able to fend the snakes away. He didn’t want to offend his friend Lord Brach though. He thought it might be wise not to offend Lord Ellrich either, at least not until after he and Zasha were wed. If it weren’t for her, Ellrich’s fat jelly head would already be decorating one of the pikes by the gate. Ellrich was a greedy, sneaky man. Pael though, was probably just mad at being argued with.
“Five hundred should do on the marsh border,” Glendar said. “Leave two hundred more men at Settsted to supply the outposts.”
He glanced at Pael who looked no less angry at the decision than he had before. The wizard finally nodded to the scribe to make the order and sat back down.
The King went back to his maps, mildly gloating over his own diplomacy. The fact that the scribe had waited for Pael’s nod went over his head, but it wasn’t lost to Lord Ellrich, or Lord Brach.
Pael was furious, not at the King’s decision, but at himself, for letting the issue slip out of his control. To quell his rage, he shot a verbal blow at Ellrich.
“You’ll want to resume command at Settsted when we march, I presume?”
Pael paused to enjoy the look of relief that played across the big Lord’s face, before continuing.
“We have no horse strong enough to carry you into battle, nor any armor that will fit you. And obviously, you’ll be of no use here at the castle.”
Ellrich wasn’t shocked by the jibe. The comments about his weight didn’t rankle him in the least. He was too busy reveling in the hope that he might actually get to keep his head on his shoulders for a little while longer. He truly never expected to make it back to Settsted in one piece.
“If it pleases the King, I’ll leave immediately so that the troops needed can be given their new orders and set to march for Eastwatch as quickly as possible.” He gained his feet quickly, for a man of his size, and rested a hand on the scribe’s shoulder, hoping to have his own orders in writing before anyone could change their mind.
Pael looked over at Glendar. The boy was oblivious. He was back to his planning with Lord Brach. As if he were the King himself, Pael looked first to the scribe, and then to Lord Ellrich.
“It pleases the King.” His smile was wickedly powerful. “Make it so.”
As soon as the order was written, Pael pressed the King’s seal into the soft wax, and excused himself. Inkling, the imp, was scratching at the inside of his skull from up in the tower. A message bird had arrived, or something else was happening. Whatever it was, it was likely far more important than the farce happening here.
Pael made his way through the castle as quickly as he could without drawing attention to his haste. He could’ve flown to the tower like a bird, or teleported himself there had he not been so spell weary.
In the past few days, he had used his magic, and a chest full of kingdom gold, to influence hundreds of decisions, both here in the castle and afar. His time was coming he knew, and he was preparing for it well. The bloody events at Summer’s Day had not only served his ultimate purpose, but had also set the eastern kingdoms on each other like a pack of dogs fighting over a scrap of meat.
Already, King Broderick, the ruler of Valleya, was treating with his cousin, Queen Rachel of Seaward. Broderick wanted her to grant his army safe passage through her lands so that his attack upon Highwander could be carried out that much more swiftly. He wanted to punish Willa the Witch Queen for letting her Blackswords fall on the innocent people at Summer’s Day. Queen Rachel was not only willing to grant his men passage, she was contemplating joining him with troops of her own.
Her people though, wanted Westland blood. The tale of the death of Bludgeon, the Seaward Monster, had been embellished, and blown out of proportion. It was now a story of intentional murder, and riotous bloodshed, all brought upon by crazed Westlanders. According to Pael’s spies, Queen Rachel was going to decide where to send her army soon. The fact that she was going to send it somewhere seemed inevitable.