Chapter 8: The King of Bad Ideas

Alexander and his knights assemble to determine how best to approach the war to come, and Alexander makes a decision that shakes things up.

         The next morning, Princess Cassandra sat on the edge of her bed holding a piece of paper when her bedroom door knocked, as was her initial perception at least. It was early, and her brain had yet to finish booting itself. She didn’t take the time to chuckle at her odd thought but, rather, asked the door, “Who is it?”

         “Madam, the Chief Advisor, Theodore, awaits in the hall. Would you permit him entry?”

         “Yes, please do, Adrian. Thank you.”

         A moment later, her double doors opened some twenty feet from her bed. Theodore walked into the room and said, “Good morning, princess.”

         “Good morning, Theodore,” she answered cheerfully. “So nice of you to visit.”

         “What’s that you have there?”

         “Oh, this? Just a news bulletin. I had Adrian snatch it from the wooden post of a shop yesterday when it caught my eye. Until then, I had no idea they were holding Parliament today.”

         “Your brother didn’t tell you of the summit?”

         “Alas, my brother is a shmuck. He makes little time for me anymore. Something about a war or some such.” They both chuckled.

         “My lady, I must admit I have come for, perhaps, an odd reason.”

         “Oh?”

         “I don’t know. What I mean to say is… Lately, I’ve been feeling…”

         “Umm, Theodore sweetie, I’m going to stop you right there. Let me tell you a tragic story about a man who should have kept his secret.”

         “Hm? Uh, wait, no. I’m not professing my love for you.”

         “Oh, thank God. That story would’ve been a train wreck; I don’t think well on my feet.”

         “Yes, well, I’ll just say this. I miss your father.”

         “Ohhh, so do I, Theodore.”

         “I really miss him. I’ve been missing him a lot with each passing day.”

         “Y’know what? For the sake of clarity, there’s still no romance in this conversation, right?”

         “Heavens, no. I’m just saying he was a dear friend.”

         “I understand.”

         “I’ll get to the point, lest there be more misunderstandings here. I would like to pay my respects.”

         “Pay your respects?”

         “To the greatest king I’ve ever known.”

         “How many kings have you known?”

         “Two but I think we’re getting off topic. I was wondering if, perhaps, you wouldn’t mind taking me to his grave just once that I might say a proper farewell.”

         “Oh, Theodore, you really did care for my father, didn’t you?”

         “I was awfully fond of him, yes.”

         “The thing is: I don’t know if I can. Technically, it’s against the law to do so.”

         “I know, and I didn’t want to put you in this position; however, I’ve been… having nightmares. I see him in my dreams, and if I cannot get this to stop…”

         “Alright, alright, just… Give me some time to consider it. You know I don’t like to see you suffer.”

         “Thank you. It’s all I ask. You’re too kind, really.”

         Parliament was the name for a specific conference room in Aztlan’s palace only used for the summit of the king’s knights. The knights of each province, as well as their chief advisors, were in this room, and as per tradition, the advisors stood behind their respective knights throughout the proceedings. Due to the gravity of the current circumstances, Parliament was rarely a peaceful room when in use, and this was no exception. “I’m looking at the Crystal Eye reports right now!” Lord Balder shouted.

         “My mages cast the Drought spell after those reports were taken!” Lady Mila exclaimed.

         “Everyone, please!” Lord Dartmouth cried. “Let’s all calm down. King Alexander, why don’t you explain.”

         “Thank you, Unc--erm… Dartmouth. Look, we’ve drifted from the topic.”

         “Which was?” Lord Balder asked.

         “Whether or not we’re evenly matched,” Lord Ryūjin said.

         “Obviously,” Alexander began, “we have just as many provinces as Gargon, but the truth is that they’ve got us beat, and Smyrna suffering a temporary drought isn’t going to change that. We have to act fast. Their troops could already be in transit. Now, what started all this conflict was whether or not the two royal provinces should do battle, and I understand your concerns; however, I’ve decided that Aztlan will be handling Rivulet.”

         “With all due respect,” Balder said, “these reports suggest Aztlan is not up to the challenge. Rivulet is a powerful province, and if you’re doing this out of tradition--king against king…”

         “I’m not. I have full faith in my province, and I ask that each of you do the same. If the rest of you don’t have to worry about Rivulet, then you can focus on the other provinces, and all of those are much better matchups.”

         “Is Rivulet’s military Gargon’s strongest?” asked the young Lord Gallow of Aesir, Viki’s sister province. Both were Dwarven provinces, and Gallow was the youngest at the table.

         “No,” Dartmouth answered, “Gargon’s strongest military is that of Elegy Gulch. It’s a Werewolf province, and Werewolves are a strong warrior race.”

         “It’s not just that they’re Werewolves,” Mila added, “it’s the fact that they’re military is so massive. We’re looking at…” she raised her hand and repeatedly snapped her fingers until a piece of paper found its way into her hand by way of the obsequiously silent advisor behind her chair. “One hundred eight soldiers per acre, plus or minus.”

         “Yeah,” Alexander said as he stabbed scrambled eggs with his fork and put them in his mouth, “Lord Ryūjin, it should go without saying that yours is the only military force we have comparable to that.”

         “I agree.”

         “Tatsu will battle Elegy Gulch,” Ryūjin said, “and Aztlan will battle Rivulet. That leaves four; two of which have propensities for high magic. Are we to expect Ouardia to handle them both?”

         “You see,” Balder said, “that’s why I recommended we don’t do the matchup thing.”

         “Oh, for Pete’s sake,” Mila groaned.

         “No, I mean it. What’d I say? That we’d end up basing our strategies on each province’s strengths, and that’s what we’ve done.”

         “If not basing our efforts on our strengths,” Dartmouth said calmly in a way that, for the second time, calmed the table, “on what would you propose we base our strategies?”

         “On Gargon’s weaknesses.”

         “Ya got my attention, Balder,” Alexander said as he tossed grapes into his mouth casually. “Run with that.”

         “Smyrna is an Elven province, and Elza is a Fairy province; they’re both extremely adept with magic. Their wizards are going to be an issue, but Elza’s got low TPA (Thieves/Acre), and Smyrna’s military is the opposite: lots of thieves and less soldiers. Who sees where I’m going with this?”

         “Too risky,” Ryūjin said. “We have enough on the line with Aztlan battling Rivulet, a very well-rounded province by the way--one whose weaknesses aren’t nearly as obvious. What will you do against them? Flip a coin? You’re looking to cause them losses.”

         “And you’re looking to cause us wins, right?”

         “I was going to say my aim is to CUT our losses, which you do by playing to your strengths. I prefer a draw to a loss, which you’re more likely to pull off if you’re in a circumstance in which you excel.”

         “Guys,” Alexander said, “Aztlan will be fine. I’m serious. Let’s stop talking as if we have to win the war before Aztlan finally falls or something. Now, Ouardian military forces are training intensely right now, and they have been for quite some time already; they have a head start on this thing. Let’s not underestimate them. Mila, the drought in Smyrna is going to be very effective once they’re a few days into it. When would they hit the worst of it in your expert opinion?”

         “Well,” Lady Mila put on her glasses and looked at a Mystics report that her advisor handed her. “Today’s Monday; we cast the spell yesterday. I’d say they should really be in the thick of it by Thursday.”

         “On Friday, I want you to attack. Use your discretion, and send in an effective number of troops to battle them on their own turf. They’ll either struggle to even contribute to this war next week on account of mass starvation, or they’ll deplete another province’s resources. None of the Gargonian provinces are agriculturally immaculate. Anyone noticing that? This one drought could be all we need to destabilize them if we capitalize. Tomorrow, I’m going to lead my troops into Rivulet.”

         “Tomorrow?”

         “Personally?” Dartmouth asked.

         “I will lead them personally,” Alexander said, “and we’ll probably encounter King Rio’s men in the Jakobe Desert before we can even finish the journey. On Wednesday..."

         "I think this is as good a time as any to address the elephant in the room, then. Your majesty, any king who goes into battle must first designate a knight to be anointed in his stead should the unthinkable happen. Each new king must go through this process because, by law, his predecessor's choice cannot forcibly be his own."

         It was silent for a moment. Lady Mila shifted in her seat, Lord Balder cleared his throat, Lord Gallow sniffed. "Who was my father's choice?" Alexander asked.

         "Well, I was."

         "Alright, then. Fair enough. I will trust my father's choice. After all, you've been like an uncle to me."

         "Thank you, your majesty."

         "Alright, on Wednesday, Gallow, I want you to send your men to attack Yykon, so start gearing up for that now.”

         “Alright,” Gallow answered.

         “Can your people handle that?”

         “We’ll be fine.”

         “Do you know why I picked Yykon?”

         “Yykon is another Dwarven province. You chose me because we’ll know their strengths and weaknesses.”

         “He chose you,” Ryūjin interrupted, “because Aesir and Yykon have the two smallest militaries. He’s finding a diplomatic way to say we’re fortunate enough to have found a target that has slacked off as much as you have.”

         “Look, if this is about your last visit to Aesir, King Alexander…”

         “It’s not,” Alexander said, “and Ryūjin, don’t instigate. Gallow, you and I had a little quarrel when I visited, and that’s okay. You don’t want me to tell you how to run your province, I can understand that, but let me tell you this. It’s wartime, and no one has time to babysit. If you do nothing else, you’ll get your military in check as quickly as possible and ensure that the rest of us don’t have to worry about Yykon interfering or aiding other provinces to patch the damage we deal. Now, Dartmouth, I want Cuzco to handle Elza. Fairies are powerful, but you can overpower them. It’s going to be about your military stripping Elza down before their Wizard Guilds can defeat you, which will be difficult because they have… Theodore?”

         “Yes, uh,” Theodore shuffled papers in his hands, “one hundred thirty-two wizards per acre.”

         “That’s a hundred thirty-two WPA, pretty steep, so look alive out there in Cuzco.”

         “Of course,” Dartmouth said with a smile. “You chose Cuzco because of our economic standing.”

         “You can buy your way out of anything, Uncle Dart.”

         “To put it bluntly, you want us to do what amounts to sacrificing a hand to reach down in the blender and stop the blades manually. Cuzco can afford the losses.”

         “War is ugly.”

         “Yes, Alexander, it is.”

         “Which brings me to my next point, and I saved this for last for a reason.”

         “My liege,” Theodore started, “don’t do this.”

         “Here’s an idea I want to put on the table,” Alexander began, waving Theodore away. “We all know what happened with Nybre, a kingdom just north of us.”

         “The Memphian Revolutionary War,” Balder said.

         “Right in my back-damn-yard,” Lady Mila added as she cleaned her glasses with her scarf.

         “Please understand that this is NOT a casual idea. I was seriously considering it before this war had even begun. Memph’s an Independent now; I want to add them…”

         “OH MY GOD!” Balder shouted as he stood to his feet.

         “…to the Macedonian…”

         “OH MY GOD, ALEXANDER!”

         “Your father,” Dartmouth shouted over Balder, “is turning in his grave right now!”

         “OH!”

         “You can’t be serious,” Ryūjin said with eyes so wide no fly could dodge them.

         “MY!”

         “This is outrageous,” Lady Mila said in shock.

         “GOD!”

         “Balder,” Alexander said, “take your seat please and hear me out. Everyone just calm down. Calm down. Now, I want someone at this table to dissuade me from doing this, using real reasons.”

         “These are Halflings, Alexander,” Dartmouth said.

         “That’s not a reason.”

         “They’re despicable creatures, Alexander,” Lady Mila added.

         “What you mean is that they’re Halflings, which is no more a reason than it was when I last said it wasn’t. Look, guys, the fact that their Halflings means nothing. Do you not realize that their secession from Nybre forced them to fight five of eight provinces? Back-to-back battles, and their win-loss record is very one-sided. If you need help figuring out which side, note their independence.”

         “Alexander…”

         “Also, I’d like to note that before you say anything about how uncivilized they allegedly are, remember that, since I even raised this issue, you all have screamed, shouted, and completely forgotten to address me as the king of Macedon. There is no Alexander in this room; there is only KING Alexander. Says so on my throne. I checked.”

         “King Alexander, Halflings lie, they cheat, and they steal.”

         “I don’t want cliché stereotypes. Give me some concrete reasons why we can’t do this.”

         “King,” Dartmouth said, “do you really not think those are reasons? She named three. We don’t want liars, we don’t want cheaters, and we don’t want brigands.”

         “Where is the confirmation that any of those things are even true about them, then? If you’re so passionate and adamant about keeping your distance from them just because they lie, cheat, and steal--things each of you have done by the way because becoming king gives you access to all sorts of records held by your predecessor, so keep that in mind--there must be something that happened to you. Uncle Dart, when was it you knew this was true? Was it the day that, in your human province, a Halfling brigand picked your pocket? Mila, did a Halfling borrow your horse and tell you he’d be right back only to never return? Balder, did a Halfling defeat you in a game of Squareboard because he switched the pawns on you when you weren’t looking?”

         “What’s your point, King Alexander?” Balder asked.

         “My point is that you’ve never interacted with Halflings in your lives, yet you all stand content to condemn them. There are currently fourteen independent, Halfling provinces out there. How many aligned, Halfling provinces are there? As of last week, none; the only one gained its independence four days ago, and the might of their military is indisputable.”

         “Why do you think they seceded?” Dartmouth asked.

         “I don’t know, and neither do you; however, I know this: if the knights of Nybre were anything like the knights at this table, we’ve got our answer.”

         “Ryūjin,” Mila said, “your silence perturbs me.”

         Ryūjin finally spoke, “King, you’re not just liberal on legislation; you’re liberal on everything. I see that now. No matter what any wise man tells you or what sage advice is passed down to you, despite the generations of experience it represents, you question its logic.”

         “He’s right.”

         “It almost seems as though you challenge everything for liberalism’s sake. I should think you just want to cause an upset wherever you go in whatever you do.”

         “You do have that tendency,” Dartmouth said. “I’ve known that about you since you were a boy.”

         “But I’m reminded to tell you that the Rain Dragon, Kōryō, is doing fine.”

         “Is he?” Alexander asked humbly, staring at the table.

         “He misses his father, whom you took from him, but before I departed for Aztlan last night, I told him I’d see his father today, which ironically I have not; nonetheless, his face lit up. I realized no one had given him confirmation that his father was alright. No one thought to do so. He’s stronger than anyone in his class, including my son, yet he’s soft. If his father were dead, he would have no will to continue, and he certainly would not value the path of the noble soldier. Liberal as it was, yours was the right decision that day.”

         “R-Ryūjin.”

         “Do NOT get sappy right now. All I’m saying is that, so far, you’re one of one with me on these idiotic ideas you have. As such, despite my INCALCULABLY better judgment, I am willing to see if you’ll be two for two.”

         “I-I don’t know… what to say.”

         “Then, shut up… …all due respect.”

         “Wait,” Balder said, “are YOU--of all people, Ryūjin--saying this isn’t a bad idea?”

         “No, it’s a laughably God-awful idea. I’m saying that we should do it anyway because that’s what our king does. He wins with bad ideas.”

Author's Note

In this chapter, it's pretty important that I aptly convey the Verbal Irony of the first scene with Theodore and Princess Cassandra; the readers should know fairly easily that he's just after something and not truly sad about King Alexander II's death. The rest of the chapter is meant to dramatize the events of the actual war, which begin in the next chapter. The devise an overall plan, and the next several chapters should make you tense about whether or not it will work because the plan succeeds in some places and fails in others.