The Fireseed Wars

"Your Majesty, I have asked the priests of Dralm and Tranth and the priestesses of Yirtta to count the refugees and the latest figure, as of yesterday, was five hundred-and sixty-eight thousand, seven hundred and fourteen men, women and children. That's not counting the Royal or Princely armies, which account for another thirty-eight thousand, four hundred and twenty-three men."

Kalvan shook his head in exasperation. "So many mouths…"This was a mass migration on a scale unknown in the Five Kingdoms, or anywhere else here-and-now. In normal times, a mass movement often percent of the population of a kingdom would have been acknowledged as large migration. However, Archpriest Roxthar's Holy Investigation and his wholesale murder of innocents-whose only crime was to not recognize Styphon as their god-had put coals into everyone's breeches, convincing almost anyone who could walk or crawl in Bestha, Sashta, Hostigos, Nostor, and Sask to leave Hos-Hostigos as fast as possible. The Nostori, the farthest away, were still arriving in groups as small as two and as large as several hundred. Since Roxthar's Investigation had pretty much turned the Princedom of Hostigos into a ghost princedom, the un-Holy Investigation had now moved into Sask and western Nostor. Already, Mytron and his Council of Priests, reckoned that over a quarter of a million Hostigi had been Investigated, most killed or sold off as slaves. Less than ten percent had been cleansed and were now working as serfs under their new masters in Hostigos.

It made Kalvan sick to think about it. It was worse than the Spanish Inquisition by a factor often! And, deep down inside, he knew it was all his doing. If he hadn't broken Styphon's monopoly on gunpowder, none of this would have happened. He had caused this as surely as Martin Luther had laid the fuse for the Thirty Years War with his Augsburg Confession.

The previous informal census conducted by the priests of Dralm had extrapolated the population of Hos-Hostigos to be around one million, eight hundred and fifty-six thousand subjects-plus or minus ten percent. In a backwoods pre-industrial civilization, there were a lot of hunters, trappers and hermits, as well as bandits and robbers, all of whom preferred not to be counted. To say nothing of merchants and wandering peddlers, tramps and soothsayers. Still, before the Battle of Ardros Field, the population had been expanding with newcomers from all over the Five Kingdoms and the Trygath eager to test out Hostigos' new freedoms and economic success.

"How many of the refugees are women and children?" These were the ones who preyed on Kalvan's mind.

Mytron sighed. "Sire, I would say eight out of ten. We have counted about one hundred and three thousand men of which half are elderly, sick or maimed by the wars of the past three years."

Fifty-one thousand able-bodied men! This was what he had to start his new dynasty, or whatever it was. Maybe they could take a page from that story in Astounding Science Fiction he'd read a few years back where the male population of a desolate planet sold themselves as mercenaries to the highest bidder-The Dorsai, that was what they were called. As he recalled, it was a smashing yarn, but then they didn't have to drag their women and children along with them in their spaceships… Stop woolgathering!

What he needed was to learn more about the Upper Middle Kingdoms. He already had Halgoth teaching him Urgothi. But that didn't answer the real questions: Was there any place they could overrun that was far enough away the Styphoni would have problems reaching them? Would King Theovacar prove to be an ally or foe? What about all these other pumpernickel principalities spread out all over the map: Were they potential allies or enemies? What was the military capability of these states? And did any have ties to Styphons House?

He hoped that Tortha and Prince Phrames would have the answers to some of these questions when they returned from Greffa. If only General Verkan were here, he'd have answers, I know it.

"Your Majesty-" Chartiphon broke in. "I just met with Prince Kestophes. He was complaining that his food stocks are growing low. He's afraid that after another moon or two of feeding the refugees, there won't be enough victuals left for winter."

Kalvan had to stop himself from laughing hysterically. "Enough left- there won't be any food left, period, Chartiphon! Not after Styphons Grand Host comes to visit. Is Kestophes a complete idiot, or does he have something else in mind?"

Obviously, from Chartiphon's startled expression, Kalvan should have kept that last thought to himself and not said it out loud. Chartiphon was from an era when a good ruler never said anything bad about a vassal, no matter how much he deserved it. Kalvan wished he could lift him up and shake him into the new world, but, of course, he couldn't since Chartiphon was beloved by Rylla.