B4 Chapter 471: War Room, pt. 3

The governor’s manor was an old thing, and centuries of history lurked in its high, vaulted beams. In some senses, it was as old as the city – though not in its current iteration. Apparently, it had once been a longhouse, back when Deadacre had been little more than a trading outpost on the road to Mystral.

Even then, the city’s bones had been old. Beyond the hardpacked earth that provided a convenient barrier to grazing beasts, there had been stone foundations — the ancient catacombs that they now knew hid an even older imperial ruin.

Gentile Frent, the governor’s ancestor, had been adamant about turning the place into a metropolis. The years since had seen the manor levelled and rebuilt more than once, always the house of the city’s leadership. Now it was a reinforced monolith that loomed over the city: a symbol of success, forged out of the nominal destitution of the frontier.

Following behind a butler, Kaius peered at its halls curiously. Blocky and austere stone had been tempered with carved wood panelling, tapestries that lined the walls every few long strides, and a seemingly endless array of portraits.

Judging by the way the butler kept glancing at them, the man was suppressing the urge to tell them the stories of each and every painted subject. While it might have been standard and appropriate for a normal visitor to the manor to be given the grand tour, the current circumstances were far too urgent.

A bloody war council. How in the hells had he ended up invited to one of those?

It was difficult to adjust to the prominence of his new station. He’d spent his entire life trying to hide who he was, and what he could do. Now he simply walked up to the gates of the governor’s manor, and the guards waved him inside without even a second glance.

He could admit that it was convenient, but it still felt strange.

Glancing at yet another portrait, Kaius hoped the long service of the Frents to Deadacre would come with more than just history – alliances, hopefully. Something that would give them an edge against the threats approaching the city.

He knew there were close ties between Grandbrook and Deadacre. Unfortunately, the other major city of the Frontier was far, and poorly positioned; any relief force would likely run into the beast horde before it reached the city walls, and only a fool would meet such an army on an open field.

Mystral, though, lay in the opposite direction – and mage cadres had far more flexibility than men-at-arms. It was possible they might come to aid. He knew they had some sort of compact, though he couldn’t remember the specifics. Some sort of service that had been rendered in the distant past.

Regardless, if Dross was right, an army of beasts was coming. Even if no help would come, they had to find a way.

He’d feel just a little more confident in their chances if he knew anything about siege warfare.

The butler slowed, stopping before a large arched door.

“Sirs, madam, we’ve arrived. The others are already inside.”

Kaius shared a glance with his team. All of them looked determined and nervous – exactly like he felt.

“Thank you,” Kaius replied.

The butler bowed, then opened the door for them.

The room beyond was large, dominated by a table at its centre. Kaius was met with a council of seven. Rieker, Ro, and Arc were familiar to him. The others were not.

At the head of the table sat a man of moderate stature and a severe gaze that could only have been Governor Hanrik Frent. His rich burgundy robes with purple accents made that clear, as did the medallion of office around his neck.

The others were a little more opaque. Two had the bearing of men who’d seen combat. One had to be the captain of the guard, or similar, judging by the heraldry on his armour — the gnarled skeleton of a tree. The other was harder to place: dressed in leathers, with only an unfamiliar sigil sewn into his breast.

To the right of them was a man in formal attire, shuffling through a stack of notes.

The final member was a woman in priestly robes, who gave them a warm smile as they halted at the threshold.

With all eyes on him and his party, Kaius filed in, taking a seat at the empty section of the table. Porkchop sat on his right, between him and the priestess, while Ianmus and Kenva filed in on his left, between him and Ro.

“I hope we’re not late,” Kaius said apologetically. They looked to be the last to arrive.

At the head of the table, Hanrik gave him a warm smile, though it looked a little forced.

“’Tis more that the rest of us are early,” the governor responded. “’It’s lovely to finally meet the four of you, and I must say, what a pleasant surprise it is to have more competent Silvers in the city – though I wish that our first meeting came in less desperate circumstances.

“Allow me to introduce the others who will be assisting us in the defence of this great city.”

Henrik swept his hand down the table.

“Ramsey is my captain of the guard. And the ruffian beside him is Ernst. He’s been doing his best to organise some of the more enthusiastic in the city into something of a militia. They will be leading the rank and file.”

This book’s true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience.

Both men gave him simple nods.

Henrik continued, smiling at the next man in line.

“Fyfen is my aide and chamberlain. He’s something of a wizard when it comes to logistics. He will be invaluable for our plan.”

The chamberlain inclined his head politely before Henrik shifted to the last person unfamiliar to Kaius.

“And this is Susanna, the senior priestess of the Myriad Temple. She will be leading relief efforts in the healing centres, if it comes to that.”

The priestess gave them a polite smile. “Let us hope it does not. By the gods’ grace, we’ve been struggling with resources and manpower just with the influx of refugees.” She shook her head. “We won’t be able to save everyone.”

“An unfortunate reality of war,” Ramsey, the guard captain, growled.