The Emperor didn't dream like a normal man. Tied by birth and by oaths to his lands, he was connected in a way few others could understand. Sleep was never easy, and he spent time each day trying to divine the meaning behind what he saw. His dreams lately had been troubled and confused, nothing unusual there. But in bad times with enemies pressing on all sides, his dreams were darker, and they placed a strain upon him that he hid from all but a few close advisors. He saw scenes from the past or present, with little context to tell him when or where something had happened, and fuzzier forebodings of what the future might bring. He hadn't had a happy dream in weeks. Visions of swirling blizzards, screaming hordes of orcs, and a great winged shadow would come to visit him each night. Sometimes all of them at once. He watched as his empire was torn apart and his people died, hunted through the ruined cities. And wolves, so many wolves, led by a terrible enemy grown far too powerful.
Normally, he would work late, and sleep for only a short period each night. But tonight, he had retired early. He had been exhausted from the days events, arguing with nobles and generals about how to use their dwindling resources. He'd gone to bed in the early afternoon, intending to wake in a few hours, more rested. But the nightmares that came were worse than ever, locking him into an endless loop of despair that he couldn't break free of. He sweated and tossed back and forth and what he saw left him with little hope. Orcs flew through the air to assault a fortress in the south, and soldiers died. Units of Lizardmen raced through the jungles, and keen-eyed scouts were moving through the grasslands around the southernmost farms and villages. It bothered him that they were so daring now, not fearing to move into his lands. But the worst was the storm he saw engulfing the keep of Northguard. Winter was strong, and getting stronger. Pain stabbed at him, like a dagger in the back, as someone betrayed his trust. The terrible winds of the Ice Devil came lower and lower. Something bad was about to happen, and the only thing the Emperor could do was watch and pray for a miracle.
He got one, as the dreams were swept away by a blast of radiance. Pure, blinding, and cleansing light filled his dreams, and all other dreams were pushed back for tonight, and suddenly he was standing in a sunny glade full of flowers. Animals grazed peacefully, and he heard the quacking of ducks as several V formations moved across the sky. The shade of a lone tree provided escape from the fierce summer sun. Gus smiled in his dream, and did the sensible thing: He sat and leaned against the tree, and took a nap. And as dream-Gus fell asleep, he relaxed in his bed in the palace and his exhausted body fell into a deeply peaceful sleep for the first time in months.
He awoke suddenly at the sound of a window being opened, and knew something had changed. Light was pouring into the room from a cloudless sky, bringing strange scents. He sneezed twice as the pollen tickled his nostrils. Captain Darman, who guarded his sleep each night from the next room was throwing open the heavy spell-wrought windows and draperies. But the angle of the light seemed wrong. "How far after dawn is it?"
"Far enough that I ordered a heavy meal since you slept through your first and second breakfasts, and it's closer to dinner than lunch. Frankly, I was going to let you sleep, but too much has happened and decisions need to be made."
The Emperor stretched as he got up, he felt much better. He wanted a bath, but his stomach rumbled, demanding his attention. Decisions that affected thousands of people should never be made on an empty belly. He gestured at the scrolls Darman was placing on the table across from him. "A few of those have good news, I'm hoping?"
Darman actually smiled. "Just a few. Almost all of the the Winter Council and lesser wizards, including General Glacia have been wiped out, along with their elite warriors, undead hordes, and winter wargs."
"Claudia won a great battle, I take it. Good for her. I gave her all the support I could, but I know it wasn't enough. And she won anyway."
Darman shook his head, "The Duchess of the North sends word that she was indeed fighting a great battle, one she wasn't sure she was going to win. Even with reinforcements from the Barony of Gadobhra. Or, still have an army to fight if she did win. She'd just committed the last of her reserves when a great light came from the North and summer returned to much of her lands. The frozen undead melted away, the monsters who needed the cold to survive turned and fled, or screamed until they faded away. Whoever was in charge of the barbarian clans immediately disengaged from the battle and headed North. What is left of the Winter army is in full retreat. She wants to pursue, but can't. Instead, She is consolidating and caring for her army, then marching in pursuit after the wounded have been cared for. Monsters are still roaming in the area, and she has many casualties, though less than I would expect. She'll be on the move in a few hours and has scouts keeping track of the fleeing clansmen. She's asking for any light cavalry we can spare to help her harass the fleeing enemy and keep them fleeting. She also has an odd request of you."
Darman wasn't happy about something and Gus was curious. "Oh? Let me guess. Some brave hero needs to be knighted or promoted? That's always a perfect way to polish off a victory."
Darman handed a letter to Gustavus. "The small note she sent to me indicated she needs a pardon. Just a guess on my part, but she does have most of House Franklin in her army, and a few of them have been known to go astray. I'd rather we promote honorable soldiers, than reward rogues who came when we called, hoping for glory."
Gus eagerly opened the sealed letter, very curious to read the details. He read it once, then again, and finally, as the shock wore off, a third time. Darman would probably rather see all of House Franklin given a medal than what Claudia was asking. "Well, I wasn't expecting this. She would like a conditional pardon for Titania the Ax Witch. I believe you know a bit about her? One of the worst, I think you've said?"
Darman scowled deeply, he'd been looking for the villain for a decade before he'd been summoned to court to become a bodyguard for a young heir to the Empire who had a tendency to wander off and join the Legion. He'd tracked her across half the Empire, never catching up with her. He did end up rooting out several circles of Black Witches and Warlocks, but she had an uncanny knack for skipping town and using her former partners to delay him. "By the gods!? Bloody Tina? The Red Axe of Osfolo? The Black Witch of the Swarthmore Woods? That woman needs her head on a spike, not a pardon."
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Gus nodded, "Yep, that's the one. An utterly evil villainess with a cursed soul if there ever was one, and yet, Claudia says that she fought bravely in two recent battles with both spells and that cursed weapon of hers. And the curses that she brewed up devastated some of the enemy units. The Duchess says that without her, the army would have lost hundreds more men. But here's the interesting part, Claudia says that Titania claims to have joined a Circle of White Witches in the Village of Sedgewick. This is attested to by another White Witch, Suzette, the Mayor of Sedgewick. She was also at these battles, keeping an eye on Titania. The Butcher and his unit were there by happenstance, helping to deliver more goods from Baron William. Our good Baron seems to have an uncanny knack for deploying his people where they are most needed."
Darman nodded, "That town is pulling in a very odd collection of people, and now it has a white circle that somehow includes a black witch? I'd feel better if Diego was here to explain this. What's the conditional part of this pardon?"
Gus grinned, "If she goes back to her evil ways, our friend Ozzy says that he will take off her head with a cleaver. He and Suzette are vouching for Titania, but only so long as she stays in Sedgewick, or under their watchful eyes. I need to read the full report on these battles, but later. For now, tell me what they orcs are up to in the south."
Darman took a moment to enjoy the thought of the Butcher cleaving through the witch's neck. Then, putting happy thoughts away, he took three scrolls from the pile and put them next to the meal Gus was destroying. A watchful servant had another plate ready as he finished the first. "Give me a summary of each, please, while I finish this delightful meat pie. Good news gives me an appetite."
Darman tapped each scroll, and gave a brief detail on the contents. "The first is from the head of the Southern Merchant League, Norbert Greenbaum. He's upset about what the orcs are doing to the large farms and plantations around Fort Higgins."
"We still have farms and plantations there? The orcs have ben besieging the fort and keeping the forces inside bottled up. Not that the commander there is going to bravely sally out against ten times his number. It would be suicide."
"It seems the orcs failed to burn and destroy the plantations, behaving very strangely. They did drive away anyone withing five miles of the fortress and are using those plantations as fortified camps, but the bulk of the territory hasn't been torched, at least not yet. The orc general has declared that any farm that tithes 25% of their crops to him will be spared. He's also begun buying up cattle, grain, and hides, but only paying two-thirds of the price they would normally get."
This got the Emperor's attention. "An orc warlord is buying instead of taking?"
"So this letter says, although it's more of a matter of the orcs taking first, and then paying for what they take. The farmers are claiming they don't have a choice and have to supply the orc army, or see their farms go up in smoke. They also can't ship their goods south, or the orcs confiscate them without paying."
Gus understood the situation. He didn't like it at all, but it's what he would expect of the large farmers in the south. It would be better for him if they burned their own farms, rather than supply the enemy army, but that was asking a lot of them and their families. "Ah, of course not. He's not paying the price they want, but they don't have any transportation costs. They can store their food, but have to worry about the orcs taking it without paying the next time they come by. And, they aren't paying any taxes or merchant guild fees, are they?"
Darman rolled up the letter and put it back in the tube. "No, they are not. And that's what is upsetting Mr. Greenbaum more than anything else. He's demanding you reconquer the area and set things to rights. As if we haven't been trying. I almost tossed his letter in the trash after reading his complaints, but the information in the rest of the letter worried me, and I expected you'd want to read it yourself."
"Oh, I plan to, and all the other letters from the South, not matter who they are from. I need the information, and small things may be important, this isn't a normal warlord. He's not over extending his lines, and is holding the tribes together. Schedule a planning session for late evening. Competent people only, regardless of rank. Send someone for Diego, we need him here. Decisions must be made about what is going on in the North, and the situation in the South."
Darman stood. "I'll get started. Where do you plan to be between now and then? I'll have Tiny get a squad together to escort you."
Gus stretched and yawned, "Me? I'm going back to bed. That was a wonderful night's rest, but I'm still quite deprived, and if I can get a few more hours with pleasant dreams, I'm taking them. But leave the drapes open. It's nice to see such a bright day."
With a full belly, Gus climbed back into bed, and was asleep almost instantly. He was delighted to find that his first dream was of the same meadow with a lone shade tree. He'd just sat down and leaned back, when he noticed he had a visitor. A large, bedraggled wolf with patchy fur and a pronounced limp was moving slowly toward the tree, panting as he came. Gus stayed still, wondering what this part of his dream meant. The wolf stopped, looked at him, and to his surprise, spoke.
"Hey, nice place you have here. Got room in shade? I've had a hard day, a long walk back, and I'm beat."
Gus could understand that feeling well. "Plenty of room for a weary traveler. I was about to take a nap myself."
The wolf turned around a few times, then curled up in a ball, relaxing. "Much obliged. This hero business is hard on an old wolf."
They talked for a bit, telling each other of their difficult lines of work, and then both dozed off in the warm, summer air. In the evening, when he awoke, the Emperor had only vague memories of the conversation, and even those faded fast as he focused his thoughts on how to deal with a non-traditional orc warlord.
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