The Foolhardies 41 War Machine

He pointed a stubby finger at one of Folkor's two aids, an Asian looking human girl with straight black hair and a nose ring on her right nostril. She was probably a visere like me because slaves were not permitted in this hall which is why I had to leave Luca behind at the barracks.

"Lavinia... you should know better than to task your followers into spying on your fellow council members," Orryn reproached.

Great General Folkor's response was quick. She rose from her chair and slapped the girl in the face. "Stupid, stupid girl... I didn't ask you to do this, did I?"

Folkor spoke in a sing-song voice that was more playful than angry.

The girl shook her head in response. Her eyes were wide with fear right before she lowered her head in apology.

Of course, no one believed Folkor's lie. We all knew she probably had asked her visere to use her fairy gift during the council meeting. For what purpose, I could only guess.

I looked around the table and saw that both Grimthorn and Kairon also had viseres in their entourage. And a glance over at Orryn's back revealed that there was a human boy—smaller and younger than me—among his three aids.

It seems they all had the idea that Darah had for me which meant all these viseres gathered in this hall had fairy gifts similar to mine. Probably not Fool's Insight as I was told it was a very rare gift, but the others were most likely harboring similar sense-type skills as well.

Folkor slapped her aid again. This time on the other cheek.

"I hope you don't embarrass me anymore," Folkor laughed after she said this. It was like several bells were chiming in unison.

She twirled around like a dancer would have done and returned to her seat, leaving the poor visere with her cheeks red and raw.

I felt sorry for the girl, but her misstep was a lucky coincidence for me because I nearly activated Fool's Insight myself before Chancellor Orryn caught her. Otherwise, I might have been the one getting the reprimand—and Darah's punch would have hurt a lot more.

The other viseres were also looking around at each other with wary eyes. I doubt any of them would start using their gifts now. It was clever of Orryn to nip the internal spying in the bud before the matter of the upcoming war was discussed.

My eyes caught Aura's pointed gaze.

She sent me an almost imperceptible shake of the head which I translated as "don't do anything rash."

I responded with an equally short nod of my head which I hoped she understood meant, "Duh, I don't want to get hit by your monster of an aunt."

"I hope that satisfies you, Lord Orryn," Folkor said, her voice forcing my gaze away from my partner and back to the fairies around the table.

She smiled at the gnome, but I could tell there was no warmth in it. It seemed to me like all these council members really didn't like each other.

Orryn shook his head, and I could tell that he thought Folkor's show was nothing more than that, a show. Then he turned to face the patriarch and bowed a second time. "I apologize for the rude showing, my lord."

The patriarch had watched all this without moving. Not even a cough escaped his lips. Wordlessly, he waved a gloved hand for Orryn to continue.

With his master's approval, Orryn produced a three-inch wooden stick from his breast pocket. He tapped the end of this stick onto the round table.

Golden sparks, like a sparkler coming to life, shot out from the end of what I believed was a magician's wand.

The round table vibrated, slowly at first. then it increased in intensity that ended once the silver patterns crisscrossing across its surface erupted upward into a silver-like watery substance—which I knew from past experience was fairy dust.

As was its way, the fairy dust came together in a swirling round mass that floated a few inches above the table surface before spreading out into a series of tiny shapes that I instantly recognized as sprawling silver forests and mountains—and very quickly, the eastern outlying territories of the Trickster Pavilion appeared before us in sharply defined silver shades.

My feet shuffled forward and I inched closer to this floating map so I could study it more easily.

The floating virtual model showed the hill my Foolhardies conquered at the dead center of the map. Fort Darah was at its westernmost edge. On the right side of the map were wide flatlands, clusters of low hills, and small patches of forest. This was the western end of the Calmlands.

Orryn tapped on the floating map and a tiny silver army with tiny soldiers and tiny instruments of war appeared on the easternmost edge of the map. There were pegasi riders soaring in the skies above the army. Trebuchets and catapults lumbered across the field. These minuscule details were so lifelike that I swear that I even saw one hobgoblin soldier stretch its arms and yawn.

"As you can see, the Magsong Clan has sent a great host to reclaim the Western Calmlands from our grasp..." Orryn raised his short right arm to my hilltop. "I have also learned from my little sprites that they won't stop at reclaiming the hilltop we took from them, but with the reclaimed mana resource, they'll push further west into the Pavilion's interior."

"Is there a specific target?" Darah asked.

Orryn shook his head. "It is unclear. However, I assume they are targeting the many deposits of natural resources in the region. If I had a guess..."

He pointed his wand at a series of low hills a few miles north of Forth Darah. "The Mythril Mines of the Dawntreader family would be a worthy trophy."

Next, Orryn pointed just south of Fort Darah. "The great Redwood Forest produces much of our steelbark deposits... and there is the Fairy Fort hidden at its center."

Lastly, Orryn pointed to the southwest where a bustling town could be found.

"Clown Town is also a viable destination... it is the top trading post in this region with a direct connection to Broken Sellsword's Canyon," Orryn finished.

Grimthorn rose from his seat and slammed his fist on the table. "These outlying territories ensure the growth of the inner regions... we cannot allow the Magesong clan a hold here."
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Folkor raised a hand. "This area is Darah's responsibility... why not have her handle this... unless," Folkor glanced at Darah, "you can't handle it yourself?"

Darah's smile didn't waver when she crossed her arms. "It seems I must remind the Marshal of the South that the last time our armies had a joint training exercise, Roger," She nodded toward Commander Thors, "wiped the ground with your soldiers."

Folkor's scowl was much more intense now. It was a glower that promised pain if the option was available.

"Humph... you're too proud of your knights, Darah," Grimthorn growled. "Your force of forty thousand doesn't have the numbers to repel this invasion. Not even with the Iron Fist leading the charge."

"I'm afraid I must agree with our friend, Bron, here," Orryn added quickly so that Darah wouldn't have a chance to fire back at the dwarf.

Grimthorn stroked his braided black beard like a villain in a cartoon show. "I'll lead my army east and we can battle the Magesong together."

"Absolutely not," Darah's face didn't lose the arrogant smirk despite the tone of her voice. "You cannot leave the central region, Grimthorn. Shärleden and the other central cities cannot be left defenseless from other threats."

As she said this, Darah's eyes gazed at the empty seat opposite her.

Orryn followed her gaze, and looking like he understood, sighed. "Yes, the Marshal of the North cannot march eastward."

I wasn't entirely sure why the two of them seemed so wary of the general who hadn't arrived for the debate. I would have to ask Darah later about this.

"Humph," Grimthorn thumped onto his seat, his metal armor clanging heavily on the wooden surface of his chair. He sent an annoyed glance at the empty seat, and then shifted his gaze to the Patriarch. "I'm getting bored of playing watchdog."

There were a few seconds of uncomfortable silence before Orryn cleared his throat to continue with the planning.

"We'll send out a recruitment call in the central and eastern regions to bolster your forces with new enlisted fairies and viseres," Orryn advised. "I believe we can gather at least fifty thousand soldiers even with the short time we have before our enemies arrive."

"Yes, we'll have a week to gather soldiers and another five days to get here," Darah pointed to a group of hills further east from my hilltop. "These hills are a natural gate that we can use to put a stop to the enemy advance.

"Might I offer an alternative plan," Kairon had a long and muscular arm raised. "A solution that might allow us to prevent this conflict from even happening."

All eyes turned to him.

Kairon pointed to my hill. "We have no dire need for this mana pool. If we offer it back to the Magesong Clan as a sign of good faith, perhaps we can negotiate a truce that will benefit the clan in future days."

His eyes were trained on the Patriarch. His voice was a sickly sweet honeyed voice that grated on my mind like it was trying to force its way in.

Auranos' response to this was a coughing fit that sounded like his lungs were about to burst out of him. When he was done, he had one hand holding onto Aura's hand while his other hand gripped hard on the armrest of his chair.

His voice when he spoke was weaker but it had more fire in it than the previous time he spoke. "You would have us give up claim to a place our people sacrificed their lives to take in our name?"

He glanced in my direction. It was only a moment, but I saw the empathy in his eyes slightly hidden by the slits of his mask. I assumed Aura had told him about the challenge of claiming and defending that hilltop.

"Why should we capitulate to the Magesong clan before the horns of war have yet to sound?" His hand clenched harder on the edge of the armrest. "What do we have to fear from them? Are we not equal in standing?"

"It is not the Magesong Clan I am wary of angering, Lord Patriarch," Kairon bowed his head respectfully at his boss. "However, they have a strong benefactor... and we do not wish to antagonize them when we aren't prepared to challenge them yet..."

Each of the three Great Generals responded to Kairon's remark with angry words.

"You're getting old, Lord Kairon," Folkor hissed. "Why would we cower over some rabble like the Scarlet Moon?"

"Humph, let them come!" With an audible banging, Grimthorn slammed his fist on the table once more. "By the stones, there isn't a dwarf in this clan who wouldn't jump at the chance to sever beardless Scarlet Moon heads from their necks!"

"I didn't think I would hear such craven words from you, Kairon..." Darah had lost the smile she'd sported since sitting on the table. The tone of her voice was venomous. "Have you forgotten that we began taking Magesong clan territory for the exact purpose of antagonizing and drawing out their hidden masters."

"I am no coward... I simply think that war should always be the last resort. Not the first thing we jump into without discussing another option..." Kairon glared at all three military leaders before he addressed the Patriarch once more. "This insistence to wage war with the Scarlet Moon and its allies does not benefit the Trickster Pavilion. We must build bridges and look to the future."

"There can be no future for our clan if the Scarlet Moon isn't dealt with," Orryn argued. "How many times have we sued for peace and they've ignored it. How much blood did they spill the last time they tricked us?"

"The road to peace is bloody and full of compromise, Orryn," Kairon countered.

"On that, we agree, my friend," Orryn shot back.

"The Scarlet Moon is five times the size of the Trickster Pavilion... to challenge them is to court death," Kairon shot back.

"Then we shall court death," Auranos answered. His voice was even weaker than before. "Orryn is right. There is no future for our clan unless we end the threat of the Scarlet Moon... and their allies..."

Seeing that the Patriarch would not be persuaded by him, Kairon bowed his head in surrender.

Honestly, I think the only thing he accomplished with his suggestion was to unite the bickering group sitting around the table. After all, it seemed like everyone hated the Scarlet Moon way more than their own petty quarrels. And if this was Kairon's intent then he was a mad genius, but somehow I doubt that as I could see him scowling in his seat.

"So... Great General Darah will take charge of the army that will be bolstered by recruits from across the inner and eastern regions. She will repel the Magesong Clan's forces from our lands," Orryn announced. "Are we all agreed?"

There was begrudging consent from the other two generals. Kairon nodded wordlessly.

"Very well," Orryn rose from his seat and straightened his ruffled coat by the hem. Once he was more presentable, he walked over to the dais. "Will you give Great General Darah your Fool's Blessing, Lord Patriarch?"

Auranos nodded wordlessly before motioning his aunt to approach with his hand.

Great General Darah rose from her seat. She made her way to her nephew and knelt in front of his throne.

"I am Shärleden..." He removed his left glove and revealed an emaciated hand with cracked fingernails and blackened veins across the surface of the skin. "And you are my swift and terrible sword... My great will and power made manifest... and my enemies will quake in fear at your coming... for they will know death has arrived."

His palm emitted a soft silver light that pulsed like a slow beating heart. In contrast, the giant light-emitting gemstone chandeliers lined above us seemed to dim with each pulse of Auranos' hand.

"Go and lead our people to victory and glory," he whispered, and immediately afterward, he slumped in his chair wheezing for breath.

Chapter end