The Fireseed Wars

"It is My will that Prince Varrack stay here in Greffa as a symbol to my other Princes of what happens when one is too lax and allows his land to be stolen. However, when We do re-conquer Thagnor, Varrack will not be returned to his throne. We will put in his place one who has been of value to the Iron Throne and continues to prove his usefulness."

If this was a bribe for his cooperation or loyalty, Ruffulo wasn't interested. He was a Greffan, born into the nobility, with roots planted deep in the City. He wasn't interested in being sent into exile, even if he wore the crown of a prince. Otherwise, he would have left for Dorg two winters ago. Only upon fear of death would he leave-or send his family away. However, he knew better than letting the King know his true feelings.

"Your Majesty, I recommend you appoint one of your best captain-generals as Prince of Thagnor, since it's most likely there's going to be a lot of fighting there."

Theovacar rubbed his chin beard. "A good suggestion, Duke. I fear that King Kalvan will not blow away with the first north wind."

Ruffulo nodded. "It will be a joyous day, Your Majesty, when Kalvan is defeated and sent from our land in disgrace."

"It will be an even more joyous day if this Usurper Kalvan is hanged from the City battlements as an example to other outlanders."

Yes, and how are we to do that, when he commands an army several times the size of our own, and one far better armed'? Ruffulo wondered. "Yes, Your Majesty, it will be a day of personal triumph."

"It will, unfortunately, take a few winters. At the present time, the Usurper's army is far larger than Our own. I am thinking of raising fees on all imports and increasing estate taxes to raise the funds to increase Our Navy and Army. How do you foresee the Assembly of Lords reacting to my requests?"

He didn't need to ponder this question. "Badly, Your Majesty. The Lords chafe now under all the Throne's tariffs, surcharges and estate taxes. They will balk at any further demands."

Theovacar's face turned beet red. "Yet, how these same witlings will beseech their King when Kalvan and his armies knock on Our walls! Do they not realize that Grefftscharr's weakness in allowing the Usurper to take his defeated army into Our territory and displace one of Our vassals will show the other Great Kings how vulnerable to attack we are? Soon every Zarthani younger son and captain will be trespassing upon Our lands."

You could spend some of that fortune in gold in the Treasury that the Kings of Greffa have been hoarding for the last thousand years, Ruffulo thought to himself. He knew saying it out loud might cost him his head.

Instead Ruffulo dissembled: "I will do my best, Your Majesty, to convince my fellow members of the Assembly how urgent it is that we build up our military forces. Still, they will argue that the Royal Treasury is filled to the rafters with gold and silver and ask why His Majesty does not use his own funds."

Theovacar snorted. "I can see that We have been too lax. That gold has been assembled century by century by my forbearers for the good of Our subjects. No one will profit if we squander the Treasury."

"Of course, Your Majesty. I will pass your words to the Assembly and urge them to support your proposed taxes in this hour of need."

"Good, Ruffulo. I knew I could count upon your support."Then the King turned away, staring at the mosaic map, a reminder of a time when Greffa ruled a far larger kingdom with an iron hand.

Ruffulo slipped out of the audience chamber in relief. He would only have to deliver the bad news, not eat it-this time. He remembered those halcyon days when he was unrecognized by the King and did not have to parse his every word, nor pass on the King's demands to his fellow lords in the Assembly. He was making no new friends and losing old ones now that he was acting in the King's service. Fortunately, those friends who knew him best understood he was playing this deep game for survival; one where losing the King's favor would mean either banishment or death. Nor was he the only noble acting as the King's cat's-paw.

III

For their mid-day repast, Phidestros was eating roast pork with succotash and sweet potatoes in his private audience chamber with Lady Sirna. Despite the good food and blazing fire in the fireplace, the air was so chilly he felt as if he was in danger of getting frostbite. This had been going on for some time. Even the musicians felt the chill and as a result were playing music more appropriate to a funeral than an afternoon meal.

"Have you been outside today, Sirna?"

She shook her head. "Why do you ask?"

"I thought maybe you'd brought the early winter chill into the castle with you. What's wrong?"

"You can't be that oblivious, or can you?" she asked, with a piercing stare.

Suddenly, Phidestros got it. "You're angry because of the coming visit by Princess Arminta."

She nodded, her lips tight.

"Dearest, you know it's not of my choice."