Inside the militia barracks of Tonbura village, two men were staring at a letter sitting on the table between them. One with an expression of nervousness, the other with a look of grim acceptance.
With a grim look on his face, Alistair picked up the doc.u.ment on the table in front of him. As his eyes pa.s.sed over the lines on the letter, the expression on his face got steadily more grave. From across the table, Owin watched the captain"s expression nervously, as if afraid he might explode if he said the wrong thing.
After what seemed like ages, but had probably only been a minute or two at most, Alistair put the page down and looked up at Owin.
"This is the final decision from high command then?"
Owin sighed, "Unfortunately yes."
"Do they not understand that this is a direct threat to the northern part of the kingdom? If we allow the goblins to set up a series of forward operating bases, then they will rip right through the meager defenses of the northern villages. There"s no way a bunch of adventurers and barely trained militia can stand against a horde. We need a defensive line set up now!" Alistair shouted, slamming his fist violently on the table.
Owin nodded miserably, "That"s what the First Prince argued. But General Polefax argued that if we have the otherworlders help then we should be fine. So long as they can repel the goblins for now, the Kingdom can send reinforcements once the army is freed from their current deployments."
"Their current deployments? What"s keeping the army from moving north to support us?"
"Recently there have been new reports of incursions from the south. Supposedly Rohadil has been raiding our caravans in the Yamorth region, and there was also a major skirmish at Fort Highwater between the Third Legion and Eirewick forces last week."
"d.a.m.nit Eirewick is attacking? Why?"
"They"re setting up for invasion. There"s a lot of unrest in the Kingdom. Their crops had a bad year and they"ve been experiencing raids from the monsters we chased west four years ago," Owin explained, spreading his hands helplessly.
Alistair swore, "I told General MacPike that it was a bad idea to chase them away instead of subjugating them. What"s his opinion on the matter? He"s always supported the First Prince."
"He agrees that we need to strike now. But because he"s the one responsible for the unrest with Eirewick, his opinion is being mostly ignored by the King."
"And the King wants us to deal with the goblins alone? With only the otherworlders and the militia? Has he gone mad?"
"The King"s hands are tied. The army needs to repel the Eirewick invasion and hunt the Rohadilian raiders. The navy can"t send help either due to recent merfolk attacks on merchants. The only forces left are the militia, any adventurers or mercenaries the kingdom can afford, and the otherworlders," Owin explained.
Alistair sighed, "Is there any good news? Does the kingdom plan to support the effort? This wouldn"t be so bad if we had any f.u.c.king funds. Does the King plan to increase the militia"s funds back to what they used to be?"
"The First Prince managed to get one concession, the Seventh Scout Corps will be aiding in the effort. And the Seacove Academy is sending some of their senior students to act as field commanders to help them gain real battle experience," Owin replied.
"Better than nothing. Alright, you"re dismissed. I"ll convey the contents of the letter to the council," Alistair said heavily.
Snapping a salute, Owin left the office, leaving Alistair alone with his thoughts. Staring glumly at the letter, Alistair sighed. Grabbing a crystal from his desk, he brought it to his mouth.
"I"m calling a council meeting. Be at the hall for noon. This is urgent."
A series of confirmations filled the room as the various members of the council responded to his summons. Putting down the crystal, Alistair picked up the letter once more and scanned the contents one last time. Committing the letter to memory, he conjured a flame, burning the letter and watching as the ashes slowly drifted to the floor.
As the letter disappeared, a single word came to Alistair"s mind unbidden.
"s.h.i.t."
~
Checking the time, Alistair raised himself from his chair. The overcast sky and heavy autumn drizzle made it difficult to tell the time of day, so he"d been watching the time carefully ever since he"d called the council meeting.
Sweeping the various papers and letters he"d been writing off the table and into a drawer, he locked the door to his office as he made his way to Flen"s hall.
The streets were lively despite the dull weather. Players and villagers alike hurrying by, all on a shared quest to stay as dry as possible. A few people tossed out greetings to the grizzled militia captain which he returned gruffly, hiding the small smile that appeared as various villagers thanked him for his service.
"This is what I need to protect. What we need to protect," Alistair swore to himself, nodding to an elderly lady knitting under the cover of her front porch. Standing up, the lady made to hobble over, but Alistair rushed forward, motioning for her to sit down.
With a contented smile, the old lady presented him with a knitted scarf.
"Thanks for allowing my grandson to stay home these past few days. It"s been such a relief having him around the house, what with him being a new father and all," she said.
"It was the least I could do. I know that it"s difficult for your family without Donal. While he has a duty to the militia, allowing Darian to look after his new child permits him to do his most important duty, that of a father," Alistair replied, smiling gently at the old lady in front of him.
"Well we"re thankful. I knitted you this scarf, I know it gets a little chilly in the barracks so I hope you"ll wear it," she said, pressing the scarf into his hands.
"It would be my honour. Tell Darian to come find me when he decides on a name for the boy. I"ll bring a naming gift."
"I"ll do that. Don"t let me take up to much of your time now, I know that you"re a busy man," she replied with a smile.
Bidding goodbye to the old lady, Alistair continued to make his way towards Flen"s hall, now outfitted with a brand new wool scarf. Reaching the hall, he opened the door, letting himself in.
Flen"s hall was well lit, despite the dreary light coming through the windows, the torches provided a cozy atmosphere under which the council had gathered. Lucy appeared annoyed as usual, lazily leaning on her elbow as she conversed with Maria. Tom and Craig were engaged in an animated discussion with Burgess about trading, while Flen was sampling a sandwich that had just been placed in front of him by his wife, Moira.
Moira was a slightly heavyset redhaired woman, with features that could be described as plump. She was famous as the village cook, running the villages only tavern. Flen had provided much of the venison and other meats for the tavern back in his days as a huntsman, and this had allowed him to strike up a relationship with her. Years later the two had married, and Moira had gone from being the villages cook to the villages mother, always happy to cook a meal or provide a cold villager with shelter for a night.
"Alistair! Glad you could make it," Moira said warmly, "Hold on a moment, I"ll grab you a sandwich. Pork or beef okay?"
"Pork"s fine, thank you Moira," Alistair replied, sitting down at the table as Moira left the room.
Looking up, the corner of Lucy"s mouth curved upwards, a mischievous grin upon her face, "So Alistair. I see that somehow, despite you being the one to call the meeting, you still managed to be the last one here. How did that happen?"
"I got held up on the way here, had to briefly discuss the militia duties with someone. It"s all resolved now though," Alistair replied, setting his coat down on the chair.
"Is this important Alistair? I mean obviously it"s important, but is it urgent? I had to leave a few of my apprentices alone to manage the lunchtime devotion," said Maria, turning her large eyes towards the militia captain.
"I"m afraid it is. More urgent than you know unfortunately. I"ll tell you all as soon as Moira returns."
Moments later, Moira made her way back to the hall, a fresh pork sandwich lay on a plate which she set down in front of Alistair. Thanking her, Alistair bit into his sandwich with gusto, savouring the meal as he stared gravely at his fellow council members.