The Supreme Warrior *2014 ABNA Contest 2nd Round*

CHAPTER 16: The Seeds of Conquest

SIXTEEN: The Seeds of Conquest

If you Know the Time and Place of Battle, you can join a Fight from a Thousand Miles away. With such Foreknowledge, you are sure to Outnumber your Enemy; no matter how many Armies await his command or how vast his Realm.

—Caraazor 6:9 The Alchemy of War

Despite Cal’s hopeful outlook on the eve of the Harvest Festival, trouble had been brewing in Selinger for many weeks. The day after Bodelic had examined the last mining site, the Eight Lords of the Dryhtern met to discuss the mines.

The Lords sat rigidly in their Council Chamber, exhausted from long effort. Effusions from three pipes merged into a gray cloud that hovered over their heads. Meanwhile, hundreds of expensive parchments lay carelessly strewn all over the conference table, tossed there by distracted Lords oblivious to the man-hours required to craft the documents. After hours spent wrangling, politeness had worn away on all sides. Frustration began to show.

Lord Kumíru removed the rough-hewn pipe from his sagging lips and proclaimed, “If you five with mines simply think to out-vote the rest of us (gesturing to two other Lords smoking pipes), think again! The Charter is broken! Do not fancy that we will sit idle while you bring dwarves onto our lands. Have you forgotten our history? How are we to know they do not plot to break us once more? We will not allow you to risk everything we have built to satisfy your greed.”

“What does greed have to do with using your fief?” objected Lord Brodeberg. His whispy hair and long chocolate-brown beard formed a stark contrast to Kumíru's carefully curled black mane and clean-shaven face. “Are you greedy, Kumíru, because you grow Perricone's? And do we object because they fail in our vineyards? We do not. Instead, we enjoy your wine. As it should be.”

Lord Colyre added, “The dwarf also says even he does not know how the mines will develop once opened.” His voice dripped with insincere syrup, which belied his wrinkled chalk-white face. “Profitable veins can extend into many fiefs yet unknown. Mayhap you have gold no one yet recognizes.”

“Would you have us rush into this project, before sorting out how we should divide profits from veins that extend under many fiefs?” grumbled Lord Morthor, expelling air from his cavernous nostrils. “And what of Houses that are not part of the Charter? We might create a power none of us foresee.”

“Peace,” uttered Lord Mederi with quiet authority, that matched his crown of snow-white hair, silencing his colleagues. Mederi steepled his small-boned fingers and continued, “Nearly three hundred years ago, our ancestors gained the Charter to the Dryhtern. Through the Empire’s collapse, centuries of goblin raids, and the challenges from new Houses, our ancestors survived by helping one another. In spite of many disputes, they always were able to modify the Charter to preserve the Alliance. Due to their long wisdom, the Eight of us rule the Dryhtern today. We cannot, at a moment’s whim, throw away the covenant that has served us so well.”

Lord Carloros retorted in his anxious voice, “Not one nugget has been removed from the ground and already you think to rule! Just because my mine is worthless does not mean I no longer matter...”

An amused Brodeberg said, “Oh, I thought t’was the dwarves that troubled you. Now it’s the mines. Which is it?”

Kumíru glared at the smooth-faced Carloros. Dolt! Can you be any less subtle?

Mederi admonished, “Gentlemen! This bickering solves nothing.”

He glanced at his four allies, gathering support, and then continued, “I think we can all agree; we must revise the Charter. But, must we make those changes now? ’Tis already three weeks until the Harvest. Certainly, there can be no dwarves in Selinger until Spring. Even then, I expect it will be long years before the mines yield a profit.”