“I am most grateful to you for coming personally,” King Kleitos said. Well, one of two kings fighting for the throne of Grekenus. “I know it is an imposition at best and dangerous at worst. I do not wish to put your life at risk.”
Lord Viljar Egillson, Earl of Jorvikr in Swenen, settled in a chair by a roaring fire and made sure nothing showed on his face. Instead of meeting at one of the main forts that held King Kleitos’s army, they met at his manor, at the northernmost tip of mainland Grekenus. It was one of the most defensible areas that wasn’t one of the many small islands. The manor still offered comfort and warmth, having been spared the ravages of the war.
Viljar knew the king spent most of his time with his soldiers at the different forts. Viljar approved. It kept the soldiers loyal since they assumed their king cared for them. Whether Kleitos did or not was of little matter.
“Here is your tea,” Kleitos’s wife, Anak, said. She set down the tray that held the tea, cups, sugar cups, napkins, and small cookies.
She was from Cairon, with all the dark beauty that kingdom had to offer. She was elegant, amiable, and quiet. Viljar knew such women had their uses although he much preferred his aggressive wife with her biting wit and scorn. The perfect partner to his enterprise.
“Thank you, my dear.” Kleitos gently touched her arm.
She curtsied to both of them before leaving and shutting the door behind her. Kleitos took the other chair in front of the fire and poured tea for both of them. Viljar appreciated that Kleitos remembered how he took his tea. He decidedly hated to deal with imbeciles and those who couldn’t retain the memory of simple niceties.
Viljar nodded his head in thanks and sipped the tea. Kleitos also sipped and appeared quite agitated and impatient to conduct their business. Understandable. Viljar enjoyed watching such aggravation when he held all the cards.
Once he’d drunk half his cup, he finally set it aside. Kleitos had suffered enough.
“Tomorrow will bring more resources for your soldiers,” he said. “I rode ahead of my guards, and that is why you find me quite alone this evening. I bring not only weapons but armor and food. Grain, as well as bread, butter, and some fruit that could travel long distances without going bad. Little things.”
“Nothing is little right now,” Kleitos said. “I can never repay you enough for your kindness these past years. It won’t be forgotten. I promise, that when I am finally crowned as the true king of Grekenus, your generosity will be repaid tenfold.”
Viljar smiled serenely even though he wanted to smirk. “I never doubted it.”
Kleitos sat back in his chair and gazed at the fire a moment. “There are times that I can’t help but wonder if I should not simply concede to my cousin. He is not a bad fellow. His greatest flaw is his temper. I hate seeing so many of my citizens dying. Good men in their prime. This war has created far too many widows and orphans.”
Striking a sympathetic tone, Viljar said, “And that is exactly why you must push forward. If you should concede now, then their deaths and their suffering will have been in vain. All the sacrifices they have made and you have made, would have been for naught. Don’t lose strength now. Grekenus needs you to lead. Harden your mind and your heart. That is the only way to win. I apologize for my harsh words but that is how I view it.”
Kleitos sighed. “You are not wrong.”
They fell silent for a time and Viljar finished his tea. He was rather annoyed that Kleitos was so close to backing down. It seemed to happen far more frequently than even a few years ago. He wasn’t very old, and yet he sounded like a man far past his prime.
The two warring kings of Grekenus, King Kleitos and his cousin, King Aeschylus, both claimed the right to rule. Their feuding families caused the civil war a couple generations past. Sometimes it was brutal warfare, sometimes it was tense stalemate, and sometimes one side appeared to win for a few years and then the other would gain strength and attack once again. Grekenus was in constant flux, and Viljar was the main reason for it in recent years.
War brought the need for weapons and supplies, and added to the wealth of the people who could provide the most. He’d taken the wealth that Ulfr plundered and the payments from both sides of the war, and funneled them into keeping Swenen rich and filled with resources. Their battle against the ravenous horde took a toll on men and supplies, and had for years, even longer than the civil war.
Viljar bided his time before breaking the silence and once again sympathetically urging Kleitos do what was best for his home and his people. And, of course, that was to continue the war and win triumphantly. However, Viljar didn’t expect Kleitos or his cousin to actually win. No, indeed. He hid a smile. Reporting the current situation to the emperor would be a delight. The Hill of Tarran was his next stop, and Viljar was eager to see Emperor Gaiuss and continue to guide him where Viljar wanted him. If all went according to plan, Grekenus would soon be no more, and the land and islands would be divided between Swenen and Cairon, with a bit of land taken for the Hill, of course. By absorbing the northeast of Grekenus, he would receive the coveted seas and beaches that produced pearls and seer stones.
“I must say that I believe the gods have finally answered my prayers concerning one aspect of the ongoing battle.”
“What do you mean?” Viljar asked.
“There haven’t been recent sightings of Mad Blackwolf in weeks. This time of year, we usually hear rumor after rumor of his antics. The same with my cousin, who enjoys pillaging towns and villages under my protection. Both have been blessedly silent. I’m not letting my guard down, I assure you, but it has been a much-needed reprieve. For all of us.”
“I agree with you that such events appear as a blessing from the gods.” Despite his joyous tone, Viljar was angry. He had a firm control on his emotions and by not one twitch did he betray his irritation.
What was that damn warlord doing? Sitting on his ass, counting his treasure? The damn idiot knew his role, and he also knew the consequences for reneging on their deal. He better not be dead.
“May I ask the last time you’d heard of him?”
Kleitos took a moment and rubbed his brow. “Let’s see… nearly three weeks ago, I believe. He attacked a small village. Demanding tribute, I think. They defied him and he had his warband razed it to the ground. Nothing but blackened earth left. It was in my cousin’s territory, near the Cairon border. I have spies there, so I heard about it soon after. It was a village near The Vein. Quaint. Harmless.” Kleitos struck his fist against the arm of his chair. “I don’t understand the thirst for such wanton violence. What is there to gain from slaughtering so many and destroying so much? Such a waste.”
Viljar nodded. Did something happen in that village that persuaded Ulfr to neglect his duties? He would send Ylva to check on him. His eldest daughter was currently with King Aeschylus in the south, supplying him with resources as well. Keeping the war going was of upmost importance. He wasn’t going to let one errant warlord destroy what he’d worked for his entire adult life.
“We have rooms made up for you and your guards, when they arrive. Relax, you are safe here.”
Viljar smiled. “I am much obliged to you.”
“No, not at all. It is I who am indebted to you.”
Right where I want you to be.
“Supper will soon be ready. If you have no objections, I would like to include my wife.”
“How could I have any objections? She is a beautiful creature.”
Kleitos laughed.