Warsinger - Chapter Four

Unfortunately, the Voivode’s Throne wasn’t a huge-ass fantasy chair with flaming skull torches or voluptuous women and-or panthers lounging around the base of it. It was a simple, well-made but worn chair of dark wood, green leather, and silver thread. The chair was up on a stage, so that I got a great view of the screaming mob surging through the doors of the Great Hall toward me.

The only thing between the throne and me was a line of guardsmen, soldiers who’d fought for me during the War for Myszno. They crossed their spears and the rush of people broke against them like a furious tide. Shouting, yelling, eyes flashing with rage, they rushed against the blockade in a furious boil of clanking armor and muddy silk.

"Order! Order!" Istvan shouted over them, sharp and authoritative. "This court WILL NOT proceed if you cannot gain order!"

"Fling your ‘order’ into the ocean, you overblown swamp rat! My citizens are starving!" One of the men in front, a lantern-jawed guy with a thick, drooping mustache and fine armor flung his arm out at me, pointing at my face. "Our crops are three weeks off from dying in the fields, and there's no one to harvest them! How’s THAT for order?!"

"…and the bandits have taken over Vyeshniki’s granary!"

"My village is overrun by scavengers!"

"Solonovka-!"

“Karhad is the ducal county! I demand to speak first!”

"-The refugees are returning-

"-We've lost ten children to plague in the last two weeks!"

The voices overlapped each other, building into a wall of noise that felt like it was crushing me back into Lord Bolza's old chair. My fingers tensed into claws on the armrests, until I finally couldn’t take it anymore.

“THAT’S ENOUGH!” I shoved up from the seat and got to my feet. "Will all of you just shut up for one god-damned second!?"

It wasn't instantaneous, but the mosh pit at the front of the dais got the message enough to take a big step back, triggering those behind them to pay attention. 

I fought the urge to jump down off the stage and start bouncing people out of the door, just like the old days. Instead, I balled my fists, then deliberately relaxed my hands and stretched my fingers. "Form a queue, all of you! Every person who wants an audience needs to introduce themselves, and then you get to talk. Anyone not willing to rein themselves in will be arrested and carried-and-or-dragged out of my goddamned castle!"

"Arrested!? This is outrageous!? Who is this foreign wretch? Where is Lord Bolza?" The bearded man ignored me, and turned to glare at Istvan.

“Baron Kapolks, you are out of line. Lord Bolza is dead. He fell in the Battle for the Prezyemi Line.” Istvan stood at ease, his handsome face drawn into sharp, unreadable lines. “And this ‘foreign wretch’ is Voivode Dragozin Hector, Primor of Racsa and Prince of Karhad, appointed by his Majesty-“

"His Majesty is thousands of miles away! What does that ragged old Raven bastard know of our troubles here!?" Baron Kapolks snarled back.

Istvan bristled, laying a hand on the hilt of his saber. "Are you going to stand there and fling shit at the Volod in the presence of his duly-appointed Count, you cur? Say that again. I dare you."

The furious noise started back up again. The Baron snapped something and reached for his sword, but was caught by the people standing around him and shouted down.

I pressed my lips together, clamped down on my temper, then turned to Istvan. "It’s pretty obvious none of these people can control themselves. Clear them out: every one of them is dismissed until they can get their emotions under control. I can't do anything to help them until they get control of themselves."

Istvan's pale green eyes darkened. He gave me a troubled look. "All of them?"

I rubbed my forehead, grimacing. The crown was an uncomfortable pressure against my temples. "Yes, all of them. Start tickets at the door or something. Every minute we’re stuck here is another minute Suri is possibly being hurt. I'm not in the mood to deal with this."

"Yes, Your Grace." He bowed stiffly from the neck, then swept off down the dais and made for the door at a brisk walk.

I swayed anxiously on my feet, at a loss for what to do. Part of me was bewildered that a game would work this way and put a player in this kind of position. Part of me was impressed that the game's A.I so accurately depicted the complete, animalistic stupidity of an angry mob.

"Are you okay?" Karalti's voice rang in my mind like a bell. "You feel awfully stressed."

"I am the opposite of okay right now," I replied. "Whoever thought this would make for a fun game was sadist with a public humiliation fetish. Or a masochist. Maybe both. This is crazy."

"It's not great out here, either. There's a huge crowd outside the gate and they keep waving torches and shouting rude things at me. They’re more afraid of me than I am of them, though."

“Good. Make sure it stays that way. I don’t know if they have guillotines in Vlachia, and I don’t want to find out.”

Istvan's departure was only noticed by a few people. A slight young girl in piecemeal armor that was too large for her tracked him as he left. The girl shot me a piercing, fearful look, and pushed up against the wall of crossed spears blocking access to the dais. "Your Grace! Please, listen to us! I am the last of my House! I beg your audience!”

A normal man probably couldn’t have heard her over the noise. I drew a deep breath, clapped my hands on my thighs and strode to the line of guards. "Guys, let her up to talk. Just her."

I might have been haemorrhaging Renown in Myszno, but the guards didn't question the order. One of them moved his spear aside just enough to let the girl worm through. Three older, concerned men tried to stop her, but she pushed past them and waved them back. I offered her a hand up the steps as she tottered, trying to stop from tripping over her own spurs. Seeing her step up caused howls of protest from the back of the room. I ignored them, and focused on the one sane person in the room.

"Alright," I said, plopping back into the chair. "You’re up. Tell me who you are and what's going on."

There was no way the girl was no older than fifteen, with big brown eyes and a long, wheat-blond plait of hair filthy with mud. She’d dressed in what had to be thirty-odd pounds of lacquer and metal, all of it mis-matched and poorly fitted to her small, frail frame. “Your Grace, I-I am Kitti Garazade Hussar. I’m, umm, the daughter of Baron Hussar, Lord of Bas County. I-I attended my debutante ball at this castle two years ago, when I turned twelve, but I don’t have any way to prove my patronage…”

“It’s okay, I believe you.” The girl looked like she was struggling not to cry as I leaned forward, trying to tune out the background noise – internal and external – and listen. “What do you need?”

“My entire House was killed when the Demon invaded.” Kitti drew herself up tall, struggling to appear more lady-like. “Papa, my brothers, my uncles, the Castellan, everyone. They overran us after sacking V-Vyeshniki and turning all the dead people into zombies. Papa gathered his banners and rode out to confront the Demon. When they rode back to Solonovka, they were flying victory colors. Papa was in the lead, and the knights poured over the hill and we all cheered. The city gates were thrown open, but they… they were all dead. They rode in and fell on everyone like wolves, killing and killing. Then came worse things. Specters and skeletons and…” 

She trailed off, pressing the heel of her palm against her eyes.

“I’m sorry,” I said. “If it’s any consolation, we kicked a whole lot of undead ass on the Prezyemi Line.”

“It is.” Kitti sniffed and swallowed, looking at the ceiling. “My father’s remaining Blood Brothers, the ones who were to watch my mother I, they swore themselves to me and bought me here. I am the last of my line. We stayed in a fortress and hid while the war moved north. Then we tried to go back to Bas, but one of father’s old knights has claimed the manor and the county.”

“Give me a name.”

“His name is Zoltan. Zoltan Gallo. He was one of my father’s banner captains. Ur Yuri, who has helped me all this time, says Zoltan used to be a knight, but he deserted during the first battle and he’s now nothing more than a common bandit. He declared himself the new lord of Bas, and is oppressing the peasants and using them as slave labor. He wants to kidnap me.”

“Why? For ransom?”

She shook her head. “No. He will marry me so that he can be the legitimate lord of the county.”

“How old are you?” I scowled.

Kitti looked up at me. “Fourteen, your Grace.”

“And how old is he?”

“Umm… I don’t know. About the same age as my papa, maybe a bit older.”

I flexed my fingers on the arms of the throne, hard. “Give me the quest.”

She nodded, and concentrated. All NPCs were able to give quests, and it was an ability they all seemed to understand, no matter how old or young they were.

New Quest: The Last of Her House

Lady Kitti Hussar is the 14-year old daughter of the Baron of Bas, Myszno’s southern-most county. Lady Hussar’s entire family perished in the Demon War. 

In the aftermath, Zoltan Gallo, a veteran knight who deserted Baron Hussar on the battlefield, has rallied a militia and declared himself the new baron. In addition to oppressing the citizens who survived the war, he has given Kitti an ultimatum - marry him, forfeit her inheritance and elevate him to the noble class, or die.

Ur Gallo has hunted Lady Hussar all the way to Karhad, and she has claimed asylum with you. As Voivode of Myszno, you must protect your province from this upstart – and decide what to do about Lady Hussar, who may inherit her family’s land when she comes of age provided she does not marry.

Difficulty: Moderate (Level 20-25)

Rewards: 270 EXP, 40 Build Points, Unlock New Resources (Barley, Silver, Mana), +400 Renown (Myszno, Renown (Bas).

Special: Complete this quest within 7 days to earn bonus rewards. Quest must be completed within 27 days.

I accepted it with a thought. The Quest didn’t go into my regular Quests menu, though. Instead, a new pane opened up. It was titled ‘Kingdom Quests’. The quest I’d received earlier in the day, A Desperate Plight, was also there. “Done. Leave it with me, and I’ll see what we can do. Sounds like this Zoltan guy has an appointment with me and my lovely scaly friend out there."

“I want you to geld him like a corrun!” Kitti paused, startled by the venom in her own voice, and covered her mouth. “I mean… umm… my apologies, your Grace, I didn’t mean to be so indecorous…”

“Trust me, I’ll be the one to cut them off if I get my hands on him. Kids are off limits.” I waved it off. “I, uh, acknowledge your request for asylum and will be happy to have you stay here with your men while we sort out a plan. I might need to talk to you all in private, get more details. Does that work for you?”

“You are generous, Your Grace.” Kitti curtseyed again. “But I would beg your leave. We are all tired, and very hungry. Our hookwings are exhausted, too. May I go see the steward and… and get something to eat?”

The Steward. Right. I was a nobleman with a castle now, and castles had servants. Except, we didn’t. "We uh... we don't have a Steward yet. Pretty much everyone in Lord Bolza's household was killed by the Demon. About the best I can do is to have you hang out at the back of the court-"

Kitti's face blanched, and her eyes widened. "Hang?"

A nobleman with a castle and a gibbet. Right. I rubbed the bridge of my nose. "'Hang' as in 'wait'. If you can wait until this clusterfuck is over, we’ll be able to find someone to set you up with a room and food.”

“Oh.” Kitti flushed, then curtsied nervously. "As you will. Thank you, Your Grace.”

The girl hurried off looking relieved, despite the inconvenience of having to wait while I sorted out the rest of the crowd. It was almost as if she hadn’t been expecting me to take the quest. The lady and her escort hadn't quite reached the back of the room when the huge double doors swung out, and a further thirty soldiers, armed and armored, poured through with Istvan in the lead. The petitioners were all stunned into a brief silence. I jumped to my feet and banged my spear on the ground, and all heads turned to face me.

“Listen up! For the first time in my adult life, I am being deadly fucking serious!” I called out. “Either you settle down and line up, or everyone except Lady Hussar and her men are being escorted the fuck out of my castle. You hear me?"

[You have lost 150 Renown in Myszno. Current Renown: 1387]

There was a lot of muttering. I forced myself to sit back down and wait. It took a minute, but one by one, a queue began to form.

They were about to step up when a knot of people boiled up and shoved them out of the way, ejecting a huge, porcine man with a red flushed face and a mop of blond curls perched on top of his head like a skinned animal.

"I represent the people of Karhad, the Ducal County, and I demand to speak with the Voivode first!" His voice boomed through the Great Hall.

The battered knight in the front dropped his hand to his saber, as did Istvan. "And who are you, you impudent hog?"

The guy drew thrust out his barrel chest, glowering as the band of commonfolk who were his escort and bodyguards gathered around him. "I am Alan Bubek, and I am the elected Mayor of Karhad!"

"The Mayor is appointed by the Voivode, you horse’s arse!" Istvan snarled with surprising passion, taking a step forward. "You have some cheek coming in here, to the Voivode's domain-"

"And asserting the right of the people to choose their leader?" Alan thrust his barrel chest forward. "I'd have thought better of a Yanik, Castellan. Your leaders are chosen by vote, and according to their merit!"

"I am not Yanik. I am a Vlachian with a Yanik father," Istvan replied coldly. "And if you don't carry yourself out of here back to the slophouse, I'll-"

"Hold up." I held an arm out over his chest and looked down at Alan from the dais. "And listen, both of you. I'm open to reforming how mayors are appointed, but I have some questions that you'd better answer if you don't want a fast trip from here to the dungeon. First off: why were you elected? Who elected you? How did the voting process operate?"

Alan drew himself up, looking to me instead of Istvan. "There are some thousand citizens of Karhad who sheltered underground in the catacombs, and another five thousand who fled the city but hid in the surrounds. I was in the former group. I am a merchant; my company processes, ships and distributes meat and grain for animal fodder. We supplied the Myszno Defense Force-"

"Don’t try and suck up to me. Get to the point," I said, glancing at the noble vassals who were crowding behind. Several of them looked like they were about to explode. "I don't have much time."

"Ah yes, of course." He cleared his throat. "The short version of events is that I took refugees into my warehouse, and from there into the catacombs. I fed them from my own supplies. When the dust cleared, we emerged to find our city in ruins. Bolza had not appointed a new Mayor. He appointed a Sherriff, who everyone loathed, and he taxed us exorbitant sums of money beyond the King's take to line his own pockets. I said as such, and the good people of the city rallied around me. They voted that I should become Mayor, and we chased the Sheriff out of town."

"Uh huh." I sat down and leaned forward, thinking. "Did you charge these people for food? Sell them at markup?"

He bristled. "Absolutely not! Why, the very thought of it!"

"I witness to that," one of his companions said. His voice was raspy, but strong and confident. "Alan gave what he had for the good of the city, while Bolza closed the castle gates."

"Right." Being who and what I was - American - the notion that the citizens of my capital would vote in their own Mayor wasn't threatening. In the real world, it's how shit was supposed to be done. Feudalism was a relic. We had corporate overlords instead - much more progressive. But here, feudalism was the norm... and I was surprisingly okay with it, for now. "So there was no election? You weren't running against another candidate? The survivors just nominated you, and you took on their mantle?"

Alan's expression fell. The idea seemed to confuse him. "Uhh... yes, Your Grace. Isn’t that how elections work?"

"Okay." I took a moment to choose my words carefully. "There's a lot of merchants who'd have gouged desperate hungry people during a war like this one, and I’m willing to believe you didn't until I get evidence to the contrary. I’ll acknowledge you as the provisional Mayor of Karhad-”

There were howls of protest from the nobility within earshot.

“-Emphasis on 'provisional',” I continued, raising my voice over them. “If the people of my capital want to have the right to choose their own local representative, there has to be preconditions. First off, the Volod has to sign off on it. Secondly, there has to be a fair election process, in which multiple candidates can compete. Thirdly, there has to be laws drawn up to make sure that process is fair. Alright?"

The proclamation caused a ripple through the hall. Several people audibly gasped. Nobles scowled. Istvan stared at me, stone-faced.

[You have lost 300 Renown with Myszno [Nobility]. Current Renown: 1087]

[You have gained 200 Renown with Myszno [Duchy of Karhad] and Myszno [Commoners]. Current Renown: 1587]

Alan gave me a strange look, like I'd somehow taken the wind out of his sails. He turned to his buddies. They shrugged, and he turned back. Then, he drew a deep breath and bowed until his curls touched the flood. "I accept this honor, Your Grace. It is a more... uhh... just and measured response that I expected."

"Yeah! We were expecting a fight!" One of his companions shook a fist.

"Sorry to disappoint you, but I'm not in the mood. Bubek, you're only mayor until this city gets back on its feet," I said. "And I warn you now - if you try and buck that rule and try something stupid, like assuming powers you don't have or rigging elections and shit, me and my dragon will pay you a personal housecall, okay?

He swallowed. "I understand, Your Grace."

"Good. So tell me what you're here for." I gestured to him and slumped back in my chair.

"Karhad is in dire straits, my lord," Alan said, clasping his hands. "We have no food and no running water. The wells are bringing up filthy polluted sludge from the sewers, which are non-functional. Children are taking sick from the filth, but we have nowhere else to go. Here, let me issue this quest…”

New Quest: The World Beneath

Karhad, a grand old city renowned as a bastion of learning and civilization in the far southern reaches of Vlachia, is facing the worst challenge of its 800-year existence. The Demon’s army flooded Karhad in the early stages of the war, butchering the citizenry and laying waste to much of its infrastructure. The people who managed to survive the onslaught did so by hiding in the network of catacombs below ground.

Those survivors and the refugees starting to trickle back in search of their homes are in dire straits. The city’s water supply and sewerage systems have been severely damaged and are non-operational. The people sifting through the wreckage have no choice but to drink contaminated water and dispose of their waste in open gutters.\

This quest comprises two subquests:

The World Beneath – Part 1: The Fol Alugut, Karhad’s ancient sewer line, is backing up and disgorging toxic sludge onto the streets. The filth is leading to outbreaks of disease that threaten your population’s safety and may lead to riots. Discover the cause of the blockage and remove it to restore Hygiene to your city.

The World Beneath – Part 2: Restore Karhad’s water supply by employing an engineer to repair the Great Conduit, the system that pumps water to the city’s public wells and plumbing. Consult your Kingdom Management Menu to review your options.

Difficulty: Moderate (Level 20-25)

Rewards: 400 EXP, 20 Build Points, Unlock New Locations (Karhad Bathhouse, Tannery, Fertilizer Production), +200 Renown (Myszno, Renown (Karhad).

Special: Complete this quest within 7 days to earn bonus rewards. Quest must be completed within 27 days.

This quest was probably going to teach me more about waste management than I ever wanted to know. I accepted it with a sigh. “Alright, thanks Alan. Next!”