For a long time, my people were lost, wandering through the hills of Arinor without a home, or a purpose. Then the Grey Plague came, destroying any hope they had of finding somewhere to settle.
Until a young woman named Meadhbh said that Lord Seletoth had spoken to her of a land to the west. A land the Grey Plague could not touch. None believed her, until she bore a son without ever laying with a man. The father, she said, was Seletoth Himself.
And the son, of course, was me.
The Truth, by King Móráin I, AC55
***
The first meeting of the Triad since the Battle of Penance was far busier than those Farris was used to. Dozens of Simians and a handful of Humans filled the room, many standing, some leaning against the white marbled walls. Every seat was occupied, bar the three at the top of the room. Those were reserved for the Triad itself.
The nervous chatter of the crowd continued past the scheduled start time, with no leader, no real leader, to initiate the discussion.
But we have so much to discuss, thought Farris, eyeing the attendees. Like the meeting held before when the refugees of the Seachtú came to Penance, many businesses and landowners of the city stood in wait today. Without the Silverback’s presence, it was General-Commander Plackart who spoke first.
“Let us begin,” he growled, looking to the others as if they were his subjects. He added no more volume than usual to his voice, but still, this silenced the room. The old Simian hesitated before speaking, his scarred lips pursed in concentration.
“A victory was won in this city not seven days ago,” he began. He folded his arms, heavy vambraces upon both clinking together. “But our work is not yet complete. In fact, the city’s problems are now threefold. First, the walls of the Stoneworks must be repaired in case this enemy should return. Second, our remaining food provisions are waning, and redistribution of our resources must be carefully considered if we are to survive the winter. Finally, law and order has broken down across the residential districts, with looters and thieves thriving in the chaos the horde left behind.”
“One of my stores was raided last night!” said one Simian merchant. Farris recognised him as Edwin the Grey. “Bandits stole away half a years’ worth of stock.”
Farris cut in before Plackart could respond. “Can you please elaborate for the council, what specifically you mean by ‘stock?’”
“G-grain and dried foods,” stammered Edwin. “Income that was fairly earned and—”
“It seems, Commander Plackart,” interrupted Farris, “that of our city’s three problems, the second is being resolved by the third.”
“Nonsense!” cried another finely dressed Simian. “These are anarchists that have no respect for authority! They must be put down brutally before the city descends into ruin.”
“These are just desperate people who need to eat,” said Farris. “Surely—”
Plackart raised a hand. As another merchant spoke up, Plackart leaned in towards Farris. “Not now, lad,” he whispered. “We need to find a solution that keeps us all happy, and that won’t happen if you keep goading them.”
“If I may,” said Ruairí of the Sons of Seletoth. “Based on the current accounts of the Triad, our granaries have just half the capacity needed to see us through the winter. We will rely on the commerce of private merchants to make up the rest of that shortfall.”
Farris narrowed his eyes. Ruairí seemed to have his finger on the pulses of many different arms of the Triad. Wasn’t he just a priest or a leader of the Sons of Seletoth? He was close to Argyll, sure, but how did that land him the responsibilities of treasurer of the Triad?
“So that settles it,” said Edwin. “If you want us to fortify the Triad’s winter stores, you must send soldiers through the city streets clean up those who don’t respect the law.”
“The Triad’s soldiers will not be available for this task,” said Plackart. He adopted a blank stare and a level voice as he said this, not engaging with the other Simians directly.
This seemed to puzzle Edwin, but landowner Wheaton the Wise seemed to understand.
“Ah yes,” he said. “The repairs needed for the wall. Of course, we must prioritise the safety of—”
“The Triad’s army will not be utilised to rebuild,” said Plackart. This caused a ripple to go through the room.
“Then what purpose will they serve?” said one voice for the crowd.
“What are our taxes going towards, if not to protect the city?”
“Skies above! Not even an answer!”
Plackart looked to Farris as the stirring in the crowd turned to shouting.
“If the Churchguard are joining us on the march south,” whispered Plackart. “Then they’ll need the Triad’s supplies too.” He glanced to Ruairí. “We’ll have to empty those granaries before we leave.”
Farris looked to the rest of the council. Although made up of stewards and lawmen, diplomats and treasurers, they dealt with the minutia of the running of Penance. They themselves made no decisions, no difficult decisions. That responsibility fell to those who would have occupied the three empty seats of the Triad that loomed overhead.
But in their absence, who has the right to make any decision?
Only the few who had spoken with the Lady Meadhbh truly knew the stakes they were dealing with. Of those, Padraig and Nicole were already in Dromán. Before she left, Nicole had suggested Farris negotiate with Cathbad, something he thought absurd. Then against all odds Cathbad agreed to Farris’ terms. Farris never would have thought it possible, but somehow Nicole did.
Maybe she’d know what to do if she was here.
For all their talk of law and order, now the hall was in chaos. Merchants and landowners squared off against one another, while others hurled abuse at those on the council’s tables. One steward quickly gathered his notes together as if hoping that would prompt the others to end the meeting.
Aislinn and Fionn sat to the opposite side of Farris. Apart from him, they were only others who here who had met Meadhbh.
“What do you suggest we do,” said Farris to them. “Use what we have to repair the city and feed the people, or send everything south?”
“Maybe we can split our forces,” said Aislinn. “Send some to Dromán, have the rest stay here, and keep everyone happy.”
Fionn frowned. “That certainly would be the most optimal approach, but if there’s a chance our full forces are not enough to fight Morrígan, what hope do we have with half?”
Farris swore, glancing over to the Silverback’s empty chair, then over to Ruairí. “What would Argyll have chosen?”
Ruairí smiled, idly running a hand through his long, wavy hair. “Why, I’m sure you know him more than I do. And surely you knew the answer to that before you asked.”
Farris swore under his breath. The Silverback would have done whatever was necessary, caring not for the qualms of others. But Farris still considered the businessmen of Penance. Sure, they were motivated entirely by greed, but they were right about one thing: taking all the food from Penance would be sure to leave its people to stave.
Either we starve our civilians or starve our soldiers….
No, he couldn’t ask a thousand men to march without food. The cause that brought them south was more important than anything else.
The difference between what’s right, and what must be done, echoed the words of Arch-Canon Cathbad. Farris shook his head.
No. I will not let anyone starve. There must be another way. There must be.
“For those of us flying to Dromán,” said Fionn. “Could we rely on the land there for food? Hunting and foraging at the like?”
“That would be a risk in itself,” said Plackart. “We have no idea what state the Godslayer left the Hazelwood in. And besides, we’ve two hundred horses and elk to feed too. Grazing will only get them so far.”
Fionn had a response to this, but Farris’s attention waned, and he did not hear it. For a growing fear began burning in his chest.
The people will have to starve. We’ll have to leave them in the cold to freeze and to starve.
He closed his eyes.
There must be another solution. Why go through all this effort to save the people of Penance one day to just leave them to die the next?
“No army can march without a supply-line,” said Plackart. He didn’t add to that or provide any solution, much to Fionn’s visible frustration.
“The undead horde did,” said Aislinn, smiling weakly. “Morrígan didn’t have to worry about logistics like this.”
Farris widened his eyes as an idea formed.
“That’s it,” he said, standing up. All eyes turned to him. “The army of the Triad will march south, and Penance’s granaries will remain untouched, as they are.”
“Are you mad?” said Placket. “Did you not hear what I said?”
“I did not,” said Farris, “I was listening to Aislinn.” He cleared his throat, letting the silence of the room hang for a moment, just to ensure everyone was listening. “Throughout the history of Alabach, armies have pillaged settlements they set upon for the purpose of replenishing their supplies. Food stores, weapons caches, gold… but the undead horde were different. As they marched across the land and razed cities, all they sought were corpses. Corpses to add to their numbers. They had no need for food or fresh water.
“Taking this into account, we can therefore assume that, although the settlements of the Seachtú lie in ruin, they should still have ample supplies to accommodate our needs.”
He turned to Plackart. “Heading towards Dromán, the first major settlement is Point Grey. We can send scouts in there to assess the situation and bring our empty supply caravans in if it’s both safe and beneficial to do so.”
Plackart nodded. That was all Farris needed.
“But what about these looters?” said Wheaton. “Can’t anything be done to stop them?”
“If we see that Penance’s remaining supplies are fairly distributed,” said Ruairí, “the need to commit crime will be deterred. At least temporarily. I can stay and see that it’s done.”
None had any immediate objection to this, so Farris spoke before any could think of one. “Then it’s settled. We’ll prepare the army to fly to Dromán tomorrow and send a contingent of scouts ahead to Point Grey to see what the horde left behind.”
Those on the council nodded, while the businessmen of Penance looked up at the Simian in awe. Farris smiled.
Cathbad was wrong. Why figure out the difference between what’s right and what must be done, when a little ingenuity can accomplish both?