Part 49

Greza watched Lord Decaron’s army set up camp outside the walls of the Chimera fortress.  Brightly colored banners and tents now covered the gray moor.  Onata and she stood beside Duke Verin on the wall above the main gate. 

“He doesn’t try to hide, does he?”  Onata said. 

“I wonder where he could possibly be,” Duke Verin asked.

The answer was more than obvious.  In the middle of the camp was an enormous tent with more banners and colors than anything she had ever seen. 

“At least he understands the privations of military life,” Onata said. 

“Let’s go welcome our guest, the first of many,” Verin said. 

“How many, my Duke?” 

“The moors around Chimera fortress will be covered with tents.”

They rode out to meet Lord Decaron.  He had given himself the title of lord, but with one of the strongest armies outside the Empire no one refuted it. 

Lord Decaron rode up to them riding a white horse that was covered in red silks.  It’s main and tail were braided with ribbons flowing almost to the ground. 

“Hail, Lord Decaon.  I am truly honored that you accepted by mad proposal,” Duke Verin said. 

“Yes, yes.  It’s quit mad, but I shall get to that later.”  Decaron then pointed a jeweled finger to Greza without looking at her. “And speaking of mad things, the pretty Ork girl makes me more mad than I have been in years.”

“Would you like me to send her away?”

Send her away?  Of course it made sense, but she didn’t want to part from him.  She had a duty to watch over him.

“No, you silly boy.  Quite the opposite.  She angers me by speaking truths no one else would be insane enough to utter.  She is good to keep around.”

“I thought so as well.” 

Decaron flipped some of his beaded braids back behind his shoulder and looked up at the Chimera fortress.  One eyebrow raised along with a corner of his mouth.  

“You still haven’t gained any sense of beauty: eyes always on what needs to be done at the moment and never on what gladdens the heart.”

“You may decorate your quarters as you will.”

“That goes without saying.” 

Then they led Decaron and his officers into the fortress where they dismounted and handed their rides to servants.  As Decaron dismounted Greza noticed that his boots’ heals were higher, almost in the fashion of noble women.  He also wore a two handed sword on his back.  Unlike everything Decaron surrounded himself with, this sword was old, battered and undecorated.  There were chinks in the blade and cuts along the handguard.  That blade had seen heavy fighting during its life.  It was the kind of sword that was so large a soldier had to wield it more like a quarter staff than a sword.  It took strength and skill and if Decaron wielded a blade like that, then he was no one to be trifled with. 

She wondered if his appearance was a calculation: an act to deceive and make others underestimate him.  

They led him into Verin’s office where the war table was.  A map of the Empire and surrounding countries covered it with red wooden markers showing the locations of every Imperial unit they knew of.  Blue markers showed allied armies.  There were more red than blue. 

“Doesn’t look promising,” Decaron. 

“It’s not as bad as it appears,” Verin said.  

“And how do you figure that?”

“Each one of our blue chips is equal to two of theirs.”

“That’s optimistic.”

“Realistic.  Imperial troops are soft.  Their officers haven’t had real combat experience in decades.  We’re loaded with veterans and the best training.”

“But that still wouldn’t be enough.  What’s your game, Duke Verin?”  Decaron asked.

Verin smiled and leaned over the map looking at it as if he saw something the others didn’t.

“Rebellion.  Insurrection.”

“You think slave and peasant uprisings will be enough of a distraction?”

“No, I’m thinking that if we do it right, they’ll be all we need.” 

Decaron laughed and waved his hand as if to dismiss the map. 

“Be honest with me, Verin.  What are our chances?  I’ve been doing the math in my head over and over again and I keep coming up short.”

“It’s not about math.”

“I beg to differ.”

Greza saw the solution to Decaron’s problem.  He was looking at the Empire as a monolithic whole.  It wasn’t.  Their armies wouldn’t be gathered into one giant force.  They would be spread out to protect the nobility’s land and cities. 

“My lords, if I may,” Greza said.  “The Imperial forces will be spread out all across the Empire.  As a whole, yes, they over power us.  But we will take them piece by piece.” 

Verin smiled at her and turned back to Decaron. 

“She understands.”

“I understand as well, but I still wouldn’t put money on our odds.”

She watched as they got into the details of the planning.  She was surprised to learn that the Duke already had agents within the Empire stirring up the peasants and slaves.

How long had he been planning this? 

She looked for Roristan on the map and found the small province where her former masters lived.   It was on the Eastern side of the Empire and was certainly in the path of the invasion. 

She began to wonder what it would be like to return to her former masters as part of an invading army.  Would they even recognize her?  In all likelihood they would have fled before she ever arrived. 

“So, why now, Verin?”  Decaron asked.

“The emperor is on his deathbed.  He’ll pass on any day now.  His heir is more concerned with debauchery than ruling the Empire.”

“Doesn’t that mean that his more able advisors and generals will rule?”

“He only takes the advice of his closest friends and all they care about is their vices.”

Decaron nodded. 

“A fault in leadership.”

“Exactly.”

“Who is the Emperor now?  That forty year old Dark Elf?”

“Carata Nicoria.  He’s the eldest, though not the brightest.”

“And he’s as bad as you say?  Let us hope he is.  His stupidity is the only thing that can save us now.”

As Duke Verin and Lord Decaron left the map to have some refreshments, she took the opportunity to peer over the map.  A major highway led right past Roristan.  The invasion would travel along the highway.  Returning to her former place of enslavement was unavoidable.  She didn’t know what memories or emotions she’d find there but it had her worried.  

She wasn’t that slave anymore so why should she still be frightened.  Deep inside her dreams she still feared being forced back into slavery where she had no free will and no choices.  She would rather die than return to that life.