The wind blew past the Baron's long hair.
He brushed it away from his eyes as he inspected House Maddach's army.
"Hup! Hup! Hup!" They breathed in unison as they ran around the field.
"Finally…" he whispered, turning back.
Cheng and two well-built men stood behind him, waiting for his command.
"Cheng, explain our current goal."
The Calculor nodded. "Yes, my fief." He turned to the others. "There will be an effort to convince the Emperor to make Baron Gorath his heir."
He lifted a finger. "After the God Emperor passes, our Baron will take the throne. Then Valen will rise to Baronship. And when the time comes, Valen will take over the Imperial Throne."
Both men nodded in agreement.
"A good goal. But no different from the other Houses," the blue-eyed man said.
Volker Strann's voice was deep. His hair was cut short, military style. His jaw was wide—like the other nobles from the Minor House Strann.
"Which means, upon the death of the Immortal, All-Knowing, and Gracious God Emperor Vossian, the war of the Houses will begin." The Baron turned to Volker. "How's recruitment?"
Volker's hand gestured toward the field, displaying the new recruits.
"It's decent. Though, most of them are here for the money."
The Baron nodded. "Of course they are…"
Under Gorath's rule, the House's propaganda efforts had taken a backseat.
And with that, the number of loyalists in House Maddach's territories had dwindled.
"I suggest we reopen the program," Volker said. "It's not simple to bring in men and get them to put their souls into the cause. It is simpler to have loyal men and train them to be killers."
"I stand by my decision," Gorath replied.
Without it, he wouldn't have gained as many Mercantile Authority shares as he did. He knew sacrifices had to be made.
But the opportunities he had bought through those sacrifices were worth it.
"Besides, we have him." The Baron pointed at his knight.
The unmatched Malik Qahtani.
"Thank you, Baron." Malik lowered his head.
Qahtani was not just the Baron's knight.
He was the idealized hero of the peasant men.
He was one of them.
And yet, he had reached greatness unmatched, sitting at the right hand of House Maddach.
If they weren't loyal to the Baron, they were loyal to Qahtani.
Baron Gorath extended his arm, pointing toward the walls.
"If the plans come to pass—if we get close to success—there will be war."
"I'm increasing recruitment," Volker said. "With your permission, I'll be halting all advanced swordfighting tutorials. All attention will go to polearms, crossbows, and siege machinery."
Volker was used to handling soldiers in massive numbers.
Even for smaller operations, more usually meant better results.
"More men are naturally talented with the sword," Malik argued. "You take away their training, and we lose out on potential."
"I'm not saying we stop their training." Volker raised his sword belt. "I'm a swordsman too. But we have to focus on what works.
Any farmer or peasant can pick up a halberd and shield—train them for two weeks, and they'll kill a swordsman who trained for years.
It's clear that we should prioritize practicality."
Malik clenched his jaw, unable to argue with that. He turned to the Baron. "My Lord, you can't—"
"Volker is right, Malik." The Baron's voice was firm. "Right now, we have to go back to basics. Help me get these men fully in line with our cause. I'm asking you to do that."
"My Lord, a spearman is never going to be a knight."
"For this situation, we don't need one," Volker said.
"To train a man to Knighthood, you spend a fortune. But with half of that, you get a decent unit of fighters."
Cheng interrupted. "I'm sorry to intrude, but time is running out. We have to move on to the next topic. What about the current security around the perimeter?"
Volker nodded. "The walls have been reinforced with steel. We've set up additional watchtowers.
If even one man gets ten miles close to the wall, we'll know—and that'll give us enough time to prepare for a full-scale attack."
Cheng looked up, pointing to the sky. "What about air defense?"
"None," Malik answered.
"I told Volker we need to prioritize the sky, but he told me—"
Sighing, Volker explained, "So far, none of the Houses have airships. Unless you count hot air balloons.
For now, we need to focus on defending what matters."
The Baron and the Calculor agreed.
But Qahtani had an odd feeling in his gut.
Something was wrong.
"Cheng," the Baron said. "Calculate our defenses against the other Houses."
Cheng closed his eyes, rubbing his fingers together.
Simulating the attack live in his mind.
"The strategy most Houses will use is similar. With all things considered…
They will move through the forest to avoid detection.
By the tenth mile, at least a quarter of them will be spotted. Our army will fire arrows—spread enough to force them back.
Another strategy is to use armored carriages to force through our defenses.
But before they reach the wall, their numbers will halve.
And breaking through will cut them down again."
He opened his eyes, turning to the Baron. "Our defense passed the test. It's unlikely they'll attempt an attack—their Calculors would advise against it."
The Baron patted Volker's shoulder. "Good job."
Then he turned back to Cheng. "I need one more simulation."
Cheng raised a brow. "What?"
"What if the Empire played a part in the attack?"
The Calculor froze.
Volker and Malik stared at the Baron, their minds reeling at his words.
"My Lord," Malik asked, "why would the Emperor want us dead?"
Volker, in his usual habit, nearly disagreed with Malik. But this time, his opinion was the same. He held his tongue, waiting for the answer.
The Baron's expression darkened. He turned his attention back to Cheng.
"Just do it."
Cheng gulped as he closed his eyes, he knew what the Baron was thinking, he didn't realize he was willing to say it in front of them.