Ancient Kings (The Young Ancients) (44 page)

Tim didn't seem impressed, but he didn't comment either. Not on that.

"Down this hall then." Pointing the way he touched the wall, making the ceiling glow brightly.

Tor almost expected that the room would be empty, or hold only a few chests of gold for some reason, but when the copper colored door at the end was opened it was a very different sight indeed. The place was filled with boxes and cloth bags and it was
huge
. For a few seconds he was almost unbelieving of how much wealth was in the space and wondered if it was also where they kept the dry goods stores for the kitchens. It wasn't though. It was all gold and silver.

His gold and silver.

No
wonder
everyone hated him so much. This really was a good part of the kingdoms wealth, enough to feed the land for at least a year, he guessed. Here, held captive by him, instead of in the cupboards of hard working people, ready to see them through winter and hard times. Only a jerk, or monster, would do that, since it was crippling the land.

"Ah, Collette did mention there was some coin in here. Sara, would you help me load a chest? I want to hire a few people from the city, on a temporary basis. That and pay for the food the troops will need. That way the economy of the city won't be harmed as much." After fishing at his neck for a moment he got a floating chest out and had to reshape it so that it would fit in the hallway, but still hold enough. It looked long and skinny, but the box itself would be able to carry a few tons at least. Maybe more. He'd never tried overloading one, but so far he'd never heard any complaints.

They tossed in bags of clanking coins, not bothering to try and keep track of what was there. It was poor funds management, but also an emergency, so he had to be willing to sacrifice a bit and all that.

Tim was being far more careful in what he was putting in the middling size velvet bag on the other side of the room, but stopped to call something out to him.

"I pay Glaren a silver per basket. That might be different for you, since, you know, she's using your food, but you'll want to have wine and all that, so it's best to replace it. If nothing else she can pocket the difference, since you don't pay her enough. Loyal though. To Collette, I mean. Won't leave even for twice the salary. I know, since I asked." The clanking resumed then and Tor smiled up at him as Sara moved in to help load the chest up, getting what was being done.

Tor scoffed a bit, but good naturedly so.

"Seriously? Trying to steal my friends away with bribes? That has to be against the rules of polite behavior. I haven't
heard
that, but if it's not there it should be." He winked at Petra who gave him a decently somber nod in return.

"That's true Tim. Very rude actually. Especially since Glaren is working in a place where the word 'servant' didn't even come up in regards to her.
Friend
. Word gets out that Tor refers to his people that way and he'll have everyone wanting to work for him. Except..." She stopped and looked away, then closed her eyes, as if trying to hide from him.

It wasn't hard to pick up the rest. Not at all.

"Except for the ones that think I'm some kind of pushy and overbearing monster? Well, today won't help that, will it?" It was his turn to stop, but he just stared at the back wall, trying not to think about it. There wasn't time for him to break over what he'd done.

Sara, though he loved her, was a bit clueless about the day's events it seemed, so she actually asked what he meant, in an offhand fashion.

Petra sighed and seemed a bit sad about the whole thing at least.

"Tor killed about ten percent of the attackers out there today. By himself. The only people that did more were Kolb and Tiera. Worse, that only worked because of Tor's magic. People will get that. Sure,
here
in the city most will think it's a good thing, but the amount of death out there was... extreme. Most battles have losses of about ten percent. I've read of complete massacres where almost seventy percent survived the carnage. I didn't get a good count out there of the bodies-"

"Seven thousand, nine hundred and fifty-six, at least of those visible as we flew over. There are thirty-one prisoners inside the cells." Tim sounded relaxed about it and turned, using both hands to hold the black sack of coin.

Then he started to help get the funny looking long trunk closed so they could leave.

"We should see to Glaren next. I'll do that. Like I said, Twenty-Three baskets?" The young eyes searched Tor's, absorbing every detail of his movements and expression. It was a lot more information that he'd thought he was giving off, but he didn't let the surprise show as he read him.

"Twenty Counts and Countesses going back I think. No, twenty-one. The rest already left, which probably means they were at least warned. They might not all be guilty."

"Ah. Alright, so the Wards got a warning and headed out, they aren't really traitors, and... I can't think of who the other one would be. I must have missed something. That's too bad. It means that one of them will have access to healing amulets. I managed to change the order so that the guilty traitors wouldn't. Let the virus weaken them before we have to fight." There was a cold wave that came off of him, but even as he glared a bit at Tor, clearly expecting him to say something about it, Petra started to nod.

"It's hard, but a good plan. I can't like that thousands or more will die because of what we did, but it makes sense, as far as warfare goes."

It did. Tor didn't deny that. Not at all.

"Of course the mothers and milk maids that die, the little children, the old people that couldn't swing a sword, or even a force lance at us, they don't really count, do they?" Sticking out his tongue to show he was thinking and not trying to be mean he changed that a bit after a few seconds. "I mean,
yes
, they
count
, I know you two both agree with that, but in battle calculations they don't that much. It's sad. At least a fighter knows what they're signing up for. This Gray Plague is just going to suffocate them in their sleep and it's because of what we're doing. Failing to help them when it's within our power."

There was silence in the room and for the whole two minutes it took him to lock back up, putting things in the same order that Collette had them before. It showed just how complicated her mind really was. Like a labyrinth. It wasn't until they were most of the way to the kitchen that Petra challenged what he'd just said.

"
We
? Timon and I made the decision, and he's just a kid, if smarter than the rest of us put together. I'm pretty sure all of the blame for it will fall on me."

Tor stopped, the chest behind him adjusting a little, floating away from him slightly as he turned. He had the amulet around his neck and it followed along with that pretty closely. Exactingly so really.

"Yes,
we
. I'm the one letting it stand, even after you told me. I agree. It makes sense. It's also evil and hurtful. The King might order us to undo it, even if it means a greater war over all. I doubt that though. He should.
I
should. But... I can't blame you. It really will make the whole thing easier and we have a responsibility to our side as well. Every soldier that dies in the night, coughing his lungs out, is one less potential casualty for us. I don't know how many we lost today, but it was too many."

 Timon had that number too.

"Twelve fighters, most of them from the Flyers Corps, two from Lairdgren. Not any of your friends, though Tiera knew at least one of them in passing. Not a fighter or a messenger, that's all I could tell from the conversation as I listened in. Smythe was talking about eight hundred dead in the city, that number keeps growing though. I expect it will end up being around two thousand in a few days. The damaged buildings were targeted to be holding people on purpose I think. Those bombs took out a lot of busy areas. We should do something to help rebuild. Clean up and all that. I can kick in a little. I don't have your kind of coin though."

It was too much to even listen to, so Tor walked to the kitchen and called out, trying to be friendly about it. No one would be expecting him after all. The scene inside was a lot different than he thought it would be. All the household staff was sitting in chairs around the table, except a few making tea and some kind of cookies, from the smell of it. There was a hint of orange to the whole thing, which was unique, given the time of year.

"Hello! We've come to see if some baskets could be made up? For some long flights later today." Tor waited for a bit and then shrugged, not caring if it made sense. He was getting tired, and didn't really think anyone would notice overly. Except they all did, focusing on him intently and trying to read his body language instantly. Then everyone shot to their feet, as if it was a big deal for him to walk to the kitchen door or something? "Also meals for the prisoners we took. Only thirty- one of those, plus ten jailers and the warders, there are three of those. Those won't need baskets though, I'll get some floating chests for it. Good food though, please. I know that it's easy to think of those we took as villains, and they are. But we don't mistreat anyone in our care, right?" Everyone was staring at him as if he was being dense or something, but the feelings were just raw nerves and a bit of guilt.

That portion of things was weird, because most of the men felt they should have been out protecting everyone themselves, and the women thought they should be doing more to help. Which of course, they should.

"So, Glaren, I hear you get a silver for the good baskets? We need twenty, the first ten inside an hour. The others will need food soon too, so, until we have a real system set up, will you all help? There are people from the city that can be hired right now, since they won't be able to work for a few days. Uh... here. Get Collette to give you more if you need it." It took a bit of searching for the right bags, middling large ones that, when he peeked in, had enough silver in the mix for buying needed things.

A man, who was thin and about thirty, or maybe an old looking mid-twenties looked at him and seemed a bit put off inside. It wasn't a clear thing, though there was a tiny thread of greed to it, as well as a stern resolve not to slip any of it into his own pocket, since that would be stealing. He wasn't the only one thinking things like that either, but no one really planned to rob him.

No, they didn't think they could get away with it, on top of their own morality. He was pretty tempted to get another bag for them all to share, but held his hand. They had to earn it. That was the rule, wasn't it? Even if he needed to have the funds being spent as fast as possible, before all of Noram was reduced to one wealthy man that didn't care if he had coins at all most days, and the hungry poor.

No one had ever warned him about that when he was the poor student, had they? The idea that one person could have that much wealth, but that it was a horrible thing for everyone else... It was a newish thought for him. One he had to actually start dealing with soon however. Doing it the right way was the key though.

"This is a lot of work, in a short time. You don't have to help with it, but anyone that does will get a nice bonus." The faces of the maids and men who seemed to be employed by him, given their uniforms, which were all black with nice, very crisp looking white shirts underneath, seemed suddenly happy enough, though it was forced in some cases. People didn't know what to make of that offer of a bonus.

Tor left it that way and waited for Glaren to respond, which made her purse her mouth, a move that made her pretty face look a bit funny. She was a bit older, but looked younger than her years and was still a notable beauty. Collette's mother. So, in a very real way, the boss of him. At least inside the house.

"At once. Everyone, we need to work together here, we have a time schedule. We'll have to play a bit fast and loose with the first meal for those at the Prison. Tobias, take notes. No wine for the jailers? I don't know about the Wardens... Dignitaries, if I have that right..."

Timon helped out then winking at the women in a way that had to be meant as mildly flirtatious.

"Fruit juice all the way around I think. Perhaps some wine for after the shift, but Gerent is the Chief Warden there. He doesn't drink much most of the time and I don't think he'll want his men doing that either. The other two are school girls. I don't know if they're staying or not."

Tor didn't either, so didn't add anything. Better they have a bit too much, rather than not enough. Plus, some of the prisoners were women. That being the case, someone female should be there to look out for them. Probably someone older and able to stand up to soldiers. He drew a blank though, so let it go as Glaren made plans to get the food delivered in a timely fashion. Leaving for a few moments, he got a small box filled with amulets for them, including the last of his magical chests. He looked to have five left. They were proving to be one of the more useful things he'd come up with, when it all came right down to it.

They left quickly, after Glaren promised to have the meals ready for them in forty minutes, even if it meant killing the others to get it done. They used Tim's craft to get to the staging area by the prison, only to find that nine craft were already set up, ready to go. That made sense, Tor would work the last one and they'd have enough.

That wasn't the plan though. Kolb pointed to David Derring who was near the other school students, going over how to use a force lance properly. As far as Tor could tell they'd been at it for some time. There weren't a lot of kids that needed that kind of training with them however. About twelve. The rest were fighters already. He looked for his sister, half expecting her to have run off to kill Sandra and her extended relations, but she walked over, having been watching what Davie did pretty closely.