In the end, Matt stayed at Windguard for only another two nights before he marched back to Coppercrest. He’d have left earlier, but Gwelfed had reported that a couple banners of Elvish infantry had been spotted in the area, and he didn’t want any of his troops caught unsupported. His desire to let the roads dry out a little before he started was entirely secondary.
In the end, the Elves had turned around before reaching the Keep and marched back towards their own territory. Either they’d sent their own scouts forward and realized that their allies were gone, or something else had changed. Matt was satisfied either way.
In any case, the march to Coppercrest was a smooth one. Morteth, the Mage-Errants, and a banner of High Guard and Hill Guard apiece accompanied him north, leaving behind Captain Curalesh in command of the others. The Bloodsworn was still busy preparing to shepherd the prisoners along when Matt left; he doubted they would have any trouble with the demoralized and frightened remnants of Teblas’ failed rebellion.
Their march through the Copper Hills was relatively peaceful after that night of combat. The Hills themselves were full of forests. Compared to the sharp, cliff-covered Broken Hills where the Hard Scythes lived, or the progressively taller ones that made up the High Peaks to the north, it seemed like a relatively calm place. As they marched, Matt could see herds of bicorns being watched over by serfs, or fields where grain had been tended to with care in a valley. They passed several villages where the buildings had been built close together around taverns with tile roofs.
Far too many of them seemed empty or abandoned. He hadn’t heard much about the Alliance occupation, but he’d heard enough to know that things had turned unpleasant once the news that Teblas had died reached the Copper Hills. The Alliance might have always planned to turn on the Leaffall Orcs, but once they knew their supposed allies were substantially less useful, the Elves and Wizards had not hesitated to let the Orcs know exactly how much they were valued.
It had started, as usual, by the invaders taking up one side or another in local disputes. Harsh punishments and purges fell on anyone who dared speak up against the occupiers, to the point where whole villages were cleared out thanks to a single Orc protesting. Even those who were quiet weren’t safe, with many Orcs pressured to leave the Copper Hills and move south to ‘retreat’ back into Ponthuul territory for ‘safety’, while Elves coincidentally moved into their now-vacant homes. When Fortune turned on the Alliance and the war pushed into the Copper Hills, the Elves had then fled, taking whatever they could as they ran from the approaching forces of the Kingdom.
Matt made a note to demand the return of what had been stolen, especially those Orcs who would return and be loyal to him. The fewer of his people that stayed with the Elves, the less reason that the Elves would have to go to war on their behalf—and he imagined that any Orcs willing to return weren’t going to have any kind views of the enemy now.
His thoughts had turned dark for a while as they marched, but the sight of Coppercrest only made things that much worse as it came into view at the top of a nearby hill.
The city of Coppercrest had been founded long ago, apparently before the Leaffalls had even lived in the area. He had his suspicions about who had built the place—the conveniently named Copperflame Goblins were extremely well represented in the local Low Folk—but the Leaffalls themselves claimed not to know. All they said was that whoever had first settled there, the Leaffall Orcs had been the ones to bring the city to its current glory.
Said glory had included roofs covered in copper on every building in the city. When the sunset touched it, the place was said to shine like an ocean of fire, glimmering in the light. The streets wove in complicated patterns around the various buildings that had sprung up over the years, and terraced gardens had displayed orchards filled with food meant for the poor or the travelers who happened to visit the place. Most beautiful of all had been the great buildings constructed over the generations—the Hall of Welcome, which was open to all visitors from across the Kingdom, the Valiant Keep, where a tower stretched as tall as Redspire and the warriors of the Clan trained, and the Path of Memories, where statues commemorated the leaders and heroes of times past.
He could still see the marks of that vanished glory, even in the city’s present condition. The Alliance had looted the place as they fled, apparently deciding that if they could not have it, no one would. Several fires had been started, though the attempted arson had been stopped by some of the remaining citizens. Roofs had been damaged or pulled away from the buildings. The statues in the Path of Memories had been taken or defaced, while the doors of the Hall of Welcome had been torn from their hinges, leaving it a gaping ruin.
The only exception had been the Valiant Keep, where a hodgepodge militia of the city’s people had gathered to prevent their final defense from being ransacked. A short, sharp battle had happened there, and when the Elves had realized that they could not win quickly, they had retreated rather than be caught by Matt’s approaching forces. When Karve had arrived a day later, he’d found the militia still guarding the place, with their families inside. A small bit of negotiation had yielded him the city, and won Matt a small amount of goodwill.
It was something he was going to need now. He eyed the walls of Coppercrest as they drew close. They were manned by members of the Iron Eighth, Karve’s old banner. He could hear them cheering and saw several waving to him from the wall. He waved back, feeling a grin start to stretch his lips. There was still reason to celebrate, after all. For the first time since he’d taken the throne, the entire Kingdom was united again. Their enemies weren’t quite beaten yet, but they had been pushed back, at least. Peace, something that might as well have been a dream, was close to a reality.
The soldiers with him on the road started a marching chant, some kind of mining song that had a few verses dedicated to war. He heard some of the Orcs sing along to it as they opened the gates wide. One of them, a familiar figure dressed in the armor of an officer, stepped up alongside his lifeguard, and Matt grinned. “Sargent Nikles!”
His former training partner smiled at him. “King Matthew! Margrave Karve welcomes you back to the city. He says that the remaining heads of the Clan are waiting for you in the Valiant Keep, when you are ready.”
Matt nodded. He’d left the Coldhearth Orc behind to keep order in the capital and to gather the leaders of the Leaffall Clan as best he could. Their formal surrender would be something Matt could accept directly, without some of the politicking of the Council back in Redspire. Hopefully, it would at least lessen the punitive measures that some of the nobles might have wanted to force on the defeated Orcs. Time would tell, at the very least.
He rode through the streets of Coppercrest, trying not to notice how much more silent they were than the soldiers on the walls. The marching song kept going, but none of the Leaffalls joined in. Many of them were staring at them from half-vacant homes, where family members were still missing. Other places were just completely empty, with their would-be owners among the Alliance fled.
As they drew near the Valiant Keep, Matt glanced at Morteth. The Margrave nodded and gestured for the soldiers to stop their chant. As the last notes of the song faded away, Matt led his troops into the wide-open gate and into the courtyard of the city’s final refuge.
It had been built from smooth stone, of a kind that Matt didn’t think had been quarried anywhere close by. The rock was a sandy brown color and seemed to have been blended together with magic at some point. Nelson’s hooves rang from it as he guided the mount forward until he brought the mount to a halt. He dismounted carefully, patting the warbuck’s side and handing the reins off to a Copperflame Goblin who seemed to have appeared from nowhere.
When he turned, he saw a small group of Orcs waiting for him in front of the doors to the inner tower of the Keep. Four of them were the surviving heads of the Houses of the Leaffall Clan, none of whom appeared to be looking forward to meeting him. The last two were more familiar. Margrave Karve gave him a quiet nod, his face once again locked into his usual impassive expression. Lady Einreth, leader of the Red Moons, was far more expressive. She grinned widely beside the Margrave, raising an eyebrow at him.
Matt walked towards them, his mace held lightly in his hand. He spent a moment looking over the assembled nobility. Then he looked at Karve. “Margrave Karve.”
Karve bowed low. “My liege. The city is yours, and the Houses of Leaffall are prepared to swear fealty to you once more.”
Lady Einreth nodded. “As they should always have done, sire.”
Matt gave her a stern look, but she simply bowed as well. “It is good to see you, sire. The rebellion is done?”
“It is, Lady Einreth. The Copper Hills are united with the Kingdom once more.” He thought he saw relief on some of the nobles’ faces, and signs of anger on others. It was always hard for him to read new faces among people he hadn’t known closely before. It took time before the uncanny valley retreated enough for him to figure out their expressions.
Regardless, the Orcs weren’t exactly in a position to complain. He gave them a stern look. “So. Has Margrave Karve explained the terms of your surrender?”
The Leaffall Orcs hesitated. One of them stepped forward, a man with a recent scar on his face. “Yes, sire.”
“Good.” Matt had gotten the Council to agree to a similar set of terms that they had accepted for the surrender of the Frost Elves. There were a few differences, thanks to the position of the Copper Hills and the ongoing war with the Leaffall Orcs’ former allies, but it had been worth compromising on those in order to have their advance approval. “To remind you, your serfs are now all freeholders. Half the lands of the nobility will be redistributed to them for their support, and they will be empowered to elect their own Voices immediately.”
Each phrase seemed to land on the Orcs like a physical blow, but they bowed their heads in acceptance. Matt paused long enough to make sure there were no protests before he continued. “In exchange, you will be accepted back into the Kingdom. Your nobles will be allowed to send representatives to the Council and participate in the discussions there. The forces of the Kingdom will protect your lands and keep you from harm. Those who fought against the Kingdom will be returned on parole, once they have sworn to serve the Kingdom and not their own ends.”
The Orc who had stepped forward looked up at Matt. “We will remain a High Clan?”
Einreth shifted her stance at the question. There had been several… discussions in the Council about the status of the Leaffalls. While the Frost Elves had been just as rebellious, they had also surrendered without fighting to the last ditch. They also hadn’t allied directly with one of the enemies of the Kingdom, and especially not with one that had been trying to wipe the entire nation from existence. Many of the Council had argued that such treachery had deserved a demotion of status. Others had pointed out that while the Frost Elf nobility had taken losses in the rebellion, they hadn’t been nearly as extensive as what the Leaffall Orcs had suffered. With so few survivors, some of the Council had doubted the remaining Leaffall Orcs would even maintain control of their lands.
There had been other views, of course. The Frost Elves had been leery of any attempt to reduce the number of High Clans, for understandable reasons. Others had reminded the Council of times in the past when the Leaffalls had been loyal and stalwart members of the Kingdom, and urged their companions to not forget those times now. Still others had mentioned the reports of the devastation in the Copper Hills, and pointed out that any Leaffall Orcs remaining were likely to be even greater friends to the Kingdom than they ever had been before.
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In the end, the vote had been a close one, but Matt had been satisfied with the result. He nodded. “You will. Our disagreements are over.” The Orc nodded, and Matt continued. “The Council will send Magistrates to root out any further treachery. Your people will be watched… but so long as you serve as you should always have done, then the bitterness is done.”
He looked around the Valiant Keep, seeing the subtle signs of where the Orcs had fought their occupiers at the last moments. “You will need to be strong, for the sake of your people. I have given you a chance to regain your honor and build up your lands. Do not waste it.”
The Leaffalls bowed, and Matt looked past them to Karve. “Margrave Karve, Margrave Morteth, if you would join me? With the fall of Windguard Keep, I believe we need to discuss the future of the war.”
As the Margraves nodded, Einreth stepped forward and bowed. Her armor creaked. “Would it be all right if I joined as well, sire?”
Matt paused. He nodded after a glance at Karve. “You are welcome to join us, Lady Einreth.” Then he looked back at the Leaffalls. “Thank you. You are dismissed.”
Three of the Orcs nodded, relief and resentment warring on their features. The fourth, however, stepped forward, a pained expression on her face. “My liege, may I ask for a favor? I would speak with one of your lifeguards for a moment.”
He blinked. It took an effort not to glance back at Balred. “You ask the wrong person, Lady…”
“Pelran, my liege. Lady Pelran.”
“Lady Pelran, my lifeguards have kept me alive for more times than I can count. Many have fallen in defense of me and my Kingdom, and they deserve all the trust and honor that implies.” Matt paused, finally looking back at Balred. The Leaffall Orc had a face that could have been carved from stone. “Even in that company, Balred has distinguished himself. Great warriors and rulers have fallen at his hand, and I owe him my life. Ask him. If he wishes to speak with you, then he will. If not, I will not order him to.”
The other Leaffall Orcs shifted on their feet. One of them looked back at the woman with a sharp, almost angry expression. She ignored them all and nodded at Matt, her eyes cautious.
Then she looked past him at Balred, the question obvious in her eyes. Balred returned her stare for a moment before he looked at Matt. “My liege. May I ask for leave?”
The lack of emotion in Balred’s voice did not bode well for whatever conversation they were going to have, but Matt nodded. He did owe Balred. At last count, he was fairly sure the man had saved his life at least three times. “Meet me in the Keep when you are done.”
His lifeguard nodded, and then Matt turned to head into the Keep with the Margraves. He didn’t overhear anything before the doors closed behind him, but he would have to ask Balred about it later. After all, people like Balred were too good to leave to the wolves. Especially now. Their Kingdom needed every advantage they could get.
“With the fall of Windguard Keep, the easiest passes between the Copper Hills and the Ponthuul Forest are now closed to the enemy again.” Karve had spread a map out on the broad table of the Keep’s warroom. The Orc’s eyes roved over the parchment, as if making sure that the various pieces were where he expected them to be. “We have detachments stationed at Horns’ Oak and Po’thun Ridge that should be strong enough to alert us to any incoming forces and hold out for long enough that we can reinforce them.”
Morteth nodded. The Imp’s eyes were on the collection of tokens standing at Coppercrest. “If we keep the majority of our forces here, we should be able to counter anything the Alliance attempts to do. Unless they arrive with another of those massive armies, the Copper Hills should remain secure.”
Einreth folded her arms. “Are we sure that they’ll even keep coming against us? After the losses they’ve taken, there’s no way that they can muster much more to fight with.”
Matt grimaced. “Their Oaths will compel them to try, Lady Einreth. As long as their leaders are affected by that spell, they literally can’t avoid trying to kill me—and while we’ve managed to kill many of them, there are still Oath-bound leaders on the thrones of all six Alliance nations.”
“Which means they’ll keep fighting until they drop.” Morteth shook his head. “Just like those fools at Windguard, I suppose.”
“Probably.” Matt shook his head and leaned forward on the table. He hated the fact that his enemies were literally unable to give up. Any reasonable nation would have at least tried for a ceasefire at this point, just to recover their losses. It hadn’t just been peasants and mercenaries falling, either. Half the royal families in the Alliance were missing members, to the point where some of them had to be hanging on by a handful of survivors. If things continued, it wasn’t out of the question that he might have to absorb some of them as he killed their monarchs and Heirs and received the Divine Right over their people.
Given the amount of trouble he had with the people who were already under his rule, it wasn’t exactly an appealing way to end things.
He shook his head again and tried to focus on the map. It showed the two banners of High Guard and three of Hill Guard at Windguard Keep, along with the two of the Crown Guard that had joined them. Another two Crown Guard banners were at Horn’s Oak, another castle to the east; another had been stationed at Po’thun Ridge, where a watchtower had been built to look over the easternmost part of the Hills.
Meanwhile, a cluster of tokens at Coppercrest represented the bulk of his forces. He had four banners of Red Guard, and three more of Bloodsworn, making up most of Einreth’s contributions to the campaign. Another two banners of Hill Guard, four more of High Guard, and three of Crown Guard were also present. As he looked around the rest of the Copper Hills, another banner of Hill Guard, two of Red Guard, and two of High Guard were moving through the area to make sure it was secure, along with the banner of Bloodsworn headed north.
It wasn’t a terrible force, especially facing a depleted foe, but Matt knew those tokens could be deceptive. Most of the banners involved had been fighting for weeks in the ravines and ridges north of the Hills. The combat had been harsh, and many of the banners were exhausted or full of wounded. His troops needed rest almost as much as the enemy did. Pushing into Alliance territory too quickly would lead to disaster.
Still, he couldn’t exactly just leave the Alliance breathing room. He had to keep the pressure on somehow. Grufen was in the Sortenmoors, holding the positions there against the other half of the Alliance, but the territory he was facing mostly belonged to the Order of Lion’s Roar. They were one of the more massive members of the Alliance, and holding the vast plains would be an exercise in futility. Better to hit one of the smaller members, like the Elves or the Greymark Wizards, to force them to back out, and then increase pressure on the rest.
Nodding, Matt turned his attention to the Ponthuul territory. The Elves had built their own fortifications there, but they mostly appeared to depend on a pair of forts along the main roads. Before the war, the garrisons at Teb’than and Saal’feld had each maintained about four or five banners each. With the losses the Elves had taken at the Battle of the Forks, trying to help Teblas, followed by the attrition they’d suffered in the campaign for the Copper Hills, those garrisons had to have decreased. They might have gathered some reinforcements, but most of them probably would have been sent to the grand army at Greyhenge.
Memories flashed in Matt’s mind again, and he closed his eyes to try to force them away. It was enough to say that those reinforcements probably weren’t going to be available for the Elves to rely on anymore.
When he opened his eyes again, Matt looked over the board once more. The roads from both Horn’s Oak and Po’thun Ridge met up at Saal’feld. Taking that fort would close down the number of spots he’d need to watch, and would leave most of the Elves’ territory up for further raids. With enough momentum, he’d even be able to reach their capital before the Alliance could gather the forces to respond.
He looked up and found Morteth studying him. The Imp smiled, more of a resigned smirk. “Saal’feld, sire?”
Matt blinked. He returned the Margrave’s smile. “You guessed it. Am I missing something?”
The Imp shook his head. “No, sire. It is the best spot for us to advance.” Then he shook his head. “Of course, the Alliance will know that as well. They may have more reinforcements there, if not from the Elves, then from the others.”
Karve nodded. His arms were folded, and he was thumbing at his lip with one hand. “I doubt the Greymarks are contributing much at this moment, but the Circle of Heaven probably would. I’d say, perhaps… five banners? Maybe six?”
Morteth shrugged. “Safer to say eight. And behind fortifications.” He looked back at Matt. “Our current forces could at least lay siege, but if more of them show up to relieve the place, we’d be pushed back.”
Matt nodded. “Better to not risk it then.” His eyes went back to the capital at Redspire. The Council had been instructed to prepare more banners, but he wasn’t sure how much they’d be able to do. They were already supplying the funds for the forces under Grufen. Pushing for more might break their will to continue.
Of course, there was another source of soldiers. One that answered to him alone, fortunately or unfortunately.
He looked back at his Margraves. “I’ll send for the Mage-Errants. Melren will have trained them fairly well at this point, and from what I saw at Windguard Keep, they should be capable of siegework. That should give us the troops we’d need to overwhelm the garrison at Saal’feld.”
Morteth paused, clearly still not comfortable with the amateur mages, but Karve just nodded. “You’re certain of their loyalty, my liege?”
“As certain as I can be.” Matt shook his head. “We have to take the help where we can find it, Karve.”
Einreth cleared her throat. “Actually, sire, I’m more worried about their competence than their loyalty. They are mostly made up of green troops, are they not? Who’s to say they won’t break and run at the first sign of combat?”
It wasn’t the worst concern to have. The last thing his veterans needed was an unsteady group to rely on. Before he could answer, though, Karve spoke up again. “I would have said the same about the Irregulars once, but they stood their ground and supported us at the Forks, my lady. Besides, these new soldiers will have to be blooded at some point. Better to get it over with while the enemy is still reeling than for them to face their test in worse circumstances.”
The Red Moon Orc seemed to think over the words for a moment. Then she nodded. “I suppose you’re right, Margrave.” Then she grinned. “Can you imagine the Elves’ reaction, though? They might even think they’re somehow getting reinforcements from the Knights!”
“Theirs may not be the only reaction that matters, Lady Einreth.” Morteth’s voice was dry, but he looked back at Matt with concern in his eyes. “I know I may seem uncertain about them, sire, but my views are not unique. There are likely many among the nobility that are… uncomfortable with the idea of these new forces. Particularly in how they are trained.”
Matt met Morteth’s eyes and nodded. “You’re worried that if we deploy them, the Council might be upset.”
Morteth snorted. “Oh, that’s a guarantee, sire. I’m more concerned as to what they’ll do about it.” He gestured to the map. “Currently, we are holding on thanks to a mixture of good Fortune and desperate maneuvers, and say what we might about them, but the Council has contributed heavily to the forces we’ve used to survive.”
Einreth gave the High Imp a nod, clearly in agreement. Morteth paused long enough to return it and then continued. “If we continue to use noble techniques to teach freeholder soldiers, they may do more than speak harshly. We might see the Council deny us further reinforcements, or reduce the funds available. Deploying the Mage-Errants may give us what we need now, but in the future…”
The Imp Margrave fell silent, and Matt sighed. He had been thinking along similar lines for a while. It was part of the problem with having so many troops under the control of the nobility rather than his own authority. Not only did it give them the opportunity to rebel, it also allowed them far more influence on how the war could be fought.
Up until now, the nobility had seen the desperation of the situation and gotten out of his way. Would they continue, now that the enemy was on the ropes and he was introducing changes that would threaten their continued hold on military power? The Mage-Errants weren’t just a tool he could use against the Alliance, after all. They were the wedge he could use to prop open changes to the Irregulars and the Crown Guard, reforms that would forge them into a national force with the kind of magic and training that they would need to ultimately replace the noble banners he had to rely on now. It was one more shift that would help him create a stable nation, one that would no longer need a dictator at its head to keep all the would-be tyrants in the nobility in line.
Of course, the fact that the nobility wouldn’t like it just meant that he needed to bring the changes in now, before the war was over. Otherwise, he’d never be able to convince them once the threat was gone.
He tapped a finger on the map and then let out a huff of air. “Your warnings are right, Margrave, but we can resolve those concerns after the war is won. Right now, we don’t have the luxury to ask where six banners of willing fighters are coming from.”
Einreth snorted. “Willing might be stretching it.”
Matt gave her a stern look, but the Red Moon leader raised her hands in surrender. He looked back at the map and felt his determination harden. If he could force the Elves out of the war, then the Greymarks would be vulnerable, and the Circle of Heaven would be mostly cut off. The remaining nations would have to question whether they had the will to continue, or whether it would be better to quietly… retire their Oath-sworn monarchs. Given that at least three of them were already fighting some kind of civil war, he hoped they would come down on the right side of things.
All he needed to do was give them one more good push, and he’d finally have the peace he’d been looking for.
