Twenty Seven
Myst City Royal Palace
On his gilded gold throne, the King of Myst City, King Pious XI, fidgeted restlessly.
The majesty of the royal halls was unrivaled. Beautiful tapestries and art from the greatest painters in Turbulus hung on the walls. A stained-glass skylight cast intricate patterns on the polished marble floor.
King Pious was getting on in years; his brown beard was streaked with gray. His silvery bejeweled crown sat uncomfortably on his head. Pious never ordered the crown to be refitted, the discomfort he kept to remind him of the burden of rule.
In the center of the hall sat a huge circular table with a sprawled-out map of Turbulus. A handful of squabbling advisors in satin robes and finery were moving chess pieces across it.
Only one was dressed in military attire and he stood out from the crowd.
The only one of them ever seeing battle was Militia-Captain Loman. He had lost his uncle and sister in the recent vampire attack.
Most of the nobles simply hid in their manors, waiting for the attack to be over.
Cowards. Loman grumbled.
The three lead advisors had been arguing about strategy for hours.
Finally, tired of the squabbling, King Pious brushed his crimson cloak aside and approached the planning table to silence the raucous. His silent steps stirring his ivory and gold attire. "Silence!"
The advisors fell silent and parted to allow their king to survey the map.
"Your Majesty, scouts report that the ruins of The Capital are a hotbed of activity. The Demonic Legion is assembling an army," Advisor Loman informed him, knowing well that his expertise was crucial.
King Pious frowned. Myst City was still recovering from the vampire attacks. The entire standing army had been slaughtered in their barracks and most of the volunteer militia had perished in the fighting.
A siege from the Demonic Legion was the last thing they needed now.
"Sire, we just don't have the numbers to fend them off if they attack!" Bishop Integra of The Tabernacle exclaimed. She pointed at the map, just two lone battle markers over Myst City.
"What are our options?" King Pious inquired with a fretful sigh.
"Until our allies offer reinforcements, we are vulnerable," The youngest advisor- Judd Medici, a noble of a prominent family in the city agreed. He pointed his manicured skinny fingers at Sunrise City in the east and Plateau City in the west.
King Pious knew what was coming next.
"We must invoke the rite of conscription immediately!" Advisor Loman insisted.
"I was afraid of that." The king knew conscription would stir great unrest in the city. The nobles would refuse to enlist and the army would end up being a horde of thieves, criminals and beggars.
The last time citizens were conscripted; they ran amok in the noble district and looted all the mansions. Arming untrustworthy scum would be a very dangerous solution.
"What does the Tabernacle think?" King Pious inquired, hopeful for a better plan from Bishop Integra.
"I have contacted our holiness; she will be sending over a treatise."
Gladius burst into the halls with the Tabernacle envoy on one side and Fletcher on the other. He wore his ceremonial silver plate and crimson cape with his flag-emblazoned shield and silver-steel sword on his back.
Fletcher simply wore his cleanest leather regalia and The Tabernacle messenger his monk's garbs.
King Pious was relieved to see his trusted knights of the Golden Sun Order,
Gladius approached the king and handed him the wax sealed scroll from the First Cleric herself.
The King broke it open eagerly and rolled it out on the table.
'To his Majesty King Pious XI,
By request of The Tabernacle, this
Desperate circumstance calls for
The rite of conscription. The Demonic
Legion of The Capital cannot
Breach our walls. In this most troubling
Hour the masses should be armed and
Take up the banner of the city.
The Golden Sun Order should be
Dispatched to meet with our allies and
Return with reinforcements post haste.
Maker be with you,
First Cleric Maria III.'
King Pious passed the scroll to his left. "How many soldiers can we muster?"
"By the First Cleric's estimate we can assemble two hundred soldiers by the end of tomorrow," Advisor Loman stated.
"An army of thieves and scoundrels!" Advisor Medici scoffed.
Gladius furrowed his brow; he didn't like the spoiled noble Judd Medici, but he was well connected with the interests of the nobility.
Gladius couldn't ignore the reality that a conscription would include men spared from the gallows. His so-called former knights refused the summons to end their life of pacifism.
The king turned around and scratched his beard nervously. He turned with a frustrated sigh. "The Golden Sun Order will approach our allies in the east and west as royal diplomats!" the king decreed.
Tensions had been high among the Human Kingdoms lately. Sunrise City was facing a royal power struggle and Plateau City's trade routes were under constant attack by desert marauders.
"You have three knights in the Order?" King Pious inquired.
"Four!" Fletcher corrected him. Gladius stomped on his foot to quiet him.
"Oh?" the king lifted his brow. "Who is this new knight?"
Gladius coughed. "Marin's sorcerer friend," he was evasively nonspecific.
"That maleficus I pardoned for you?" the king demanded.
"Yes, sire," Gladius and Fletcher replied in unison, the militia-captain nodding in assurance.
"I hear he is quite the accomplished sorcerer..." Medici agreed. In truth, power was the only thing he respected after wealth.
The king sighed. The Golden Sun Order were his most experienced soldiers, he thought it wisest to rely on their judgment in this matter. "Fine, send the enchanters east to Sunrise City and you two go west to Plateau City."
The envoys saluted.
"Advisor Loman, gather the press gangs, every able-bodied man of military age will be conscripted immediately!" the king added. He exchanged repulsed looks with advisor Medici, "Yes even the criminals."
As the envoys departed the hall, the king clambered back to his throne.
Every noble family would surely refuse to enlist. A lineup of defiant lords demanding an audience would be a mile long by the end of the next day.
It's going to be a long day.