The Fireseed Wars

II

Prince Phidestros emptied the last of the dregs of wine from his goblet, then opened his tobacco pouch. It had been a long day and he was beat. He had just finished an exhaustive survey of Sashta, the former Hostigi Princedom, now the westernmost portion of his new Princedom of Greater Beshta. Unlike Beshta, which had missed most of the troop movements, Sashta had been both the crossroads and the gathering point for the Grand Host's invasion of Hos-Hostigos, and had suffered accordingly. These days Sashta was closer to a graveyard than a thriving princedom.

He had taken over the border town of Lemnos as his temporary headquarters while his men completed their survey and census. He was staying in the former Great Hall of the local castle, Tarr-Lemnos, which had taken a severe beating during the invasion. Most of the tapestries and hangings had been stripped and part of the ceiling and one of the walls were shored up with timbers, but Kyblannos had assured him it was safe enough for short-term habitation.

Mynos, his man servant, came into the chamber, asking, "Your Highness, can I offer you some more wine?"

"Bring in more goblets and one of the casks of Ermut's Best I was saving for my entry to Beshta Town. Kyblannos, Geblon and some of my advisors will be arriving soon. Show them in immediately."

By the time he had his pipe bowl filled and lit, his advisors were filling the hall. They were the former captains and petty-captains of the old Iron Company as well as the new companies that made up the Iron Band. All of them had fought at his side and could be trusted to guard his back against any knife thrusts, literal or verbal.

These men would be the new barons and lords of Greater Beshta; he'd use only those courtiers and servitors from Harphax City he absolutely had to use to please the King. Already, scores of lackeys and sycophants from all over Harphax were gathering at Beshta Town, according to his latest dispatch from Captain Cythros, to divide the spoils-or so they thought.

The reports his men gave were disquieting, to say the least. Captain Rydos of the Thirteen Moons Company finished his census report with this broadside: "There aren't enough able-bodied men left in Sashta to field a single company of shot! The only civilians who remain are either those who were too ill or too old to be Investigated; there's not enough of those to fill a town square. Most of the farms were burned or used for gun practice. The towns and villages are in ruins and the miserable skin-and-bone wretches who inhabit them are like wraiths from Regwarn! It's so bad here that it would take Appalon himself to convince the Harphaxi street rabble to move here."

"Well, Gentlemen, this is not acceptable," Phidestros replied. He had expected grim news, but nothing this bad. Still, he had several ideas of how to remedy the problem. "First, I refuse to fill Greater Beshta with the gaol droppings and deadbeats of the Five Kingdoms! Secondly, I have an army fit for a Great King, not a prince."

"By Galzar!" someone shouted.

The rest nodded. Currently under his colors, Phidestros had some twenty-eight thousand cavalry and infantry. When they'd left the Grand Host, they'd taken almost a quarter of its strength along with over half of the baggage train, most of whom had been happy to leave. Not even the most hardened camp follower saw much profit in wandering the wilderness in search of Kalvan and the Army of Hostigos.

"I suggest we follow one of King Kalvan's innovations. We muster out all those soldiers who would like to be farmers and shopkeepers. I'll give each man ten gold rakmars and twenty acres of farmland. Petty-captains will be given fifty ounces of gold and captains one hundred ounces of gold and a small fiefdom.

"You're talking about several hundred thousand ounces of gold, Captain General!" Captain Tyblon, the Iron Band's paymaster, objected. "That'll empty the Band's paychests."

Phidestros smiled. "I've got a promissory note from Grand Master Soton which will more than cover our expenses for the campaign. Furthermore, former Prince Phrames didn't have time to remove more than half his Treasury, so we have that to build upon."

"If it's still there!" one of the captains interjected.

"It's there," Phidestros said, with a wolfish grin. "After our victory at Ardros Field, I sent five hundred men, under Captain Cythros of the Blue Company, to secure Tarr-Beshta and govern the Princedom in my absence. Phrames was so eager to help his Great King that he left behind only a skeleton garrison; Cythros was able to take the old tarr in less than a quarter moon. He was lucky, too, in that most of the Hostigi loyalists were more interested in fleeing the Holy Investigation of Styphon than fighting their new overlord. Cythros' first act, after taking Tarr-Beshta, was to secure the treasury. He assured me that it contains more than fifty thousand ounces of gold and ten times that weight in silver ingots.

"Now, Geblon, approach my chair." Phidestros paused to stand up and remove his presentation sword from its scabbard. Geblon bowed and he touched the top of his head with the blade. "I now pronounce you before all the True Gods and your peers Duke of Sashta."

Geblon looked as if he'd taken a mace blow to the side of his head. Finally, he stammered, "Th-thank you, Your Highness."

"You can dispense with the formality for now, Geblon.

"I need a strong hand to deal with my new subjects. You know mercenaries and how to command them. I also need someone of impeccable loyalty and who has my absolute trust. You have proven all these qualities many times over."

"How many of the mercenaries do we want to muster out?" Kyblannos asked.

"About five thousand."

"I don't think that many of them want to be farmers-" Geblon said.

Phidestros laughed. "Oh, they will. You'll have to beat off the recruits with your sword!"

"What do you mean?"

"Give me a moment. I'll get back to it. As you all know, we 'inherited' most of the Grand Host's camp followers."

Captain Redyr hooted. "Most of those lazy buggers didn't see much future in fighting in the Trygath! We had to fight them off or we'd have inherited the entire lot. Must be four times our number, too."

"Exactly," Phidestros replied in a voice of steel. When he had everyone's complete attention, he continued, "I certainly don't see much future for them in Greater Beshta, truth tell. Is that agreed, Gentlemen?"

The chamber filled with laughter. At best, camp followers supplied drink, women and entertainment for the soldiers; at worst, they robbed them of their hard-earned coin and gave them cankers and diseases of the flesh.

"I do not want them robbing our men. Grand-Captain Ptolynnos, I want you to eliminate all the sharpers, profiteers, bone tossers, skullrakers, shell men and all the other chance players and gamblers and the like. Strip them of all their money and finery, and put them into the fields as serfs. We won't make them slaves, even if they deserve it, but instead will give them a hefty indenture to pay off."

"What for? You know they'll all ask."

"Enjoying our hospitality!"

They all laughed.

Phidestros continued, "We'll give them a choice. Either they work as serfs, or we will send them to Roxthar for Investigating. Tell them we have to pay a purse of gold for each man jack of them we don't send to Roxthar. This will give our soldiers someone to work their fields. Kyblannos, you're good at rune forming. Write up a phony parchment from Roxthar requesting all the gamblers, brothel owners, murderers, strongarms, muggers and other degenerates in the baggage train to be sent back to Hostigos Town. Tell them we'll sell them their freedom for five hundred gold rakmars or ten years hard labor. Otherwise, it's off to the Investigation."

"Some of them can pay," Geblon said.

"Good, the gold will go into the Iron Band paychests. The rest will hew and toil. Any who try to escape, bind them up and we'll ship them off to Roxthar as Hostigi sympathizers. Those that do pay, tell them to leave Greater Beshta as fast they can and never return. Tell them we'll keep a warrant for their arrest, if they do!"

"A good lesson to the others," one of the captains said.

"Now, as to the rest. Offer the honest sutlers and merchants and tinkers shops or stores. Most importantly, Geblon, I want you to round up all the gang leaders and their minions."

"What if they resist?"

"Shoot them like mad dogs. Go with pistols primed and cocked. When you've gathered them all up, hang the lot of them."

"Yes, sir."

"Good. Now that's settled. Now, for the women. Our men will need wives if they're to take up farming. Since there are few women in Sashta, we'll have to recruit some volunteers. Tell the whores that they're closing shop in Sashta-for good."

"Do you think they'll go for that?"

"I don't care whether they do or don't. Here's the deal: Tell the slatterns they have a moon quarter to find a soldier among those who are mustering out who will marry them."

"By the Wargod's Mace! We'll have so many men mustering out we won't have an army left!" Kyblannos cried.

"Then draw lots! I don't want more than five thousand planting their feet in Sashta. We're going to need soldiers in Beshta, as well."

"But there are more women in the train than there are in the entire army!"

"Exactly, the rest can form unions with the baggage train leavings…"

"Most will want to be with soldiers."

"That's the idea. The soldiers get first pick. Those that are left will go with anyone who wants them. Let them be the wives of serfs. If they don't like that, send them to Roxthar!"

"But what happens later?" Redyr asked. "Won't most of them just slip away the moment the Army's gone?"

Phidestros nodded. "Good point. However, I've got a solution. Kyblannos, have your armorers and blacksmiths work up a branding iron. Make it in the sign of a lightning bolt-my device. Brand the cheeks of all the trollops. And, while you're at it, brand my device on the foreheads of all the 'new' serfs-that'll keep them from running away. We'll offer a big purse throughout the Five Kingdoms for any man or women caught outside Sashta with the lightning bolt brand. That'll keep the women on the farms and the serfs in the fields."

Kyblannos shook his head. "Aye, you've thought this one out, Captain. I see what you mean about beating off the volunteers from the Army with a mace. But what about the pimps, madams, flesh peddlers and whoremasters? They might have some strong objections to your plan."

"I suspect they will. Round them all up before the announcement-and hang them all."

Geblon gasped. "We don't have enough trees!"

"We've got lots of tree stumps. Chop off their heads, then."

"We only have a handful of executioners, My Lord," offered one of the captains.

"Do we have many halberdiers?"

Geblon nodded.

"Then offer them five silver pieces for every head they remove."

"At that price, every other man jack in the Army will volunteer and find himself a halberd," Kyblannos said dryly.

"I expect so. I'm tired of these parasites bleeding our men. It's time to make them useful. They can fertilize the fields of Shasta with their bones."

"What about Roxthar's informers?" one of the captains asked.

"I'm getting to that. Captain Lythrax, I want you to take as many men as you need and find all the Styphoni sympathizers in the baggage train."

"Sir, how will I know?"

"Most of the Styphoni agents will be circumcised. Any you find, give them an orchidectomy right then and there. Anyone found working with them will be treated likewise."

"But some of them maybe uncircumcised and escape!" Lythrax was almost too good at his work. Phidestros would have had him mustered out years ago, except for times like these when he needed a man hard enough to follow any order. "Exactly, Captain. I want a few to escape so that word reaches Roxthar that we will brook none of his Investigation nonsense. Let him be prepared to lose any of his minions that he sends into Greater Beshta. Believe me, once word of this policy reaches Hostigos Town and Balph, there won't be any Investigators willing to cross our border. This will also keep any traitors within Beshta quaking in their boots."