The Volian Conflict Part 1 Chapter 2

Here is the link to Chapter 1
https://steemit.com/story/@frizzy/the-volian-conflict-part-1-chapter-1

The Volian Conflict, Part 1, Chapter 2
For a second or two, it appeared that the man would not relinquish the crossbow. Backeeri was considering a prod with his blade at the man’s throat just before he let it fall. It clattered to the stone floor.

“Good.” Backeeri said. “Now then. Your name?”

“Wh-what?” The cowering man stuttered.

“Your name.”

“What good-“ Backeeri threw a punch at the man’s chest, and then a follow-up at the man’s face. Both hits yielded results: the would-be assassin wore no armor, and the punch knocked him down.

“YOUR NAME!” Backeeri roared.

“Ghe-Gheblian!” The man panted from the floor. In his fall, the hood had fallen from his face, revealing a young man with a shaved head. The general reached down and grabbed the man by his robe.

“Good, then. Get up.” Backeeri lifted the crossbowman to his feet, then sheathed his sword. He stooped, and hefted the crossbow. “Come on then.” Konza marched the terrified man back through the door to the walkway, and then around to where the king stood, still naked. The general deposited the man at the king’s feet and handed the crossbow to the king. “King Torgul, meet Gheblian. He tried to kill you.” Konza had a dry sense of humor, sometimes.

“Gheblian is it? Hm… From where do you hail?” The king asked, looking down at the would-be assassin. Gheblian did not reply, so Backeeri kicked him in the thigh. The man grunted.

“Rogate. I hail from Rogate.” Gheblian said, his thigh trembling slightly. Rogate was the desert kingdom to the immediate south. Konza stroked his short cropped beard when he heard this.

“And how does my death benefit Rogate?” King Torgul asked, looking down at the assassin. Gheblian looked up to Konza, as if asking if the king were serious. Konza stared back in silence.

“The council… The council thought that your demand of tribute was tyrannical, your majesty… So… Rather than pay…” Backeeri groaned interiorly. He had seen this coming, but the revelation was no less unfortunate.

“Ah… So, we make and sell them the finest spearpoints for generations, and the cheap, thankless bastards try to kill me just for seeking a bit of gratitude? Hmm. Alright, then.” The king was not an understanding man, and a violent edge had crept into his voice. “Backeeri, your sword.” Konza cringed as he handed the king his blade, hilt first. “And send someone to get some wine, dammit.” The head guard nodded at one of the door guards, whom scampered away. Konza was not about to leave the scene without his blade.

“Mercy! Please, your majesty, I have a child… A son.” Torgul put the tip of the sword to the man’s chest.

“You should have considered that before you tried to slay a king.” Said the king. “Gheblian of the land of Rogate, I Torgul, King of Volian and shepherd of civilization, condemn you to death for the crime of attempted murder and plotting on the life of a king. Good day, sir.” And with that, Torgul ran the blade through Gheblian’s chest. He then pulled the blade out and handed it to Konza unceremoniously.

“Your majesty…” Backeeri started, taking his sword back and wiping the blade on the dead man’s robe. “Would it not stand to reason that this man is only the first to have targeted you? If I recall, that decree was extended to all of our neighbors.” The door guard returned at that moment, accompanied by a page. The page carried a silver platter holding a grand crystal chalice and a golden pitcher.

“Ah good.” The king said, delightedly taking the chalice. The page hefted the pitcher in one hand and poured very carefully, never spilling a drop. “Good man.” The king then turned and passed through the open door to his quarters. “Come along, Backeeri. What you say has merit, and I suppose that we must find a way to do something about it.”

The captain of the guard followed the king into the apartments and closed the door behind them. The pair walked through a lavishly decorated sitting room to the king’s bedchamber, where he pulled a red silken rope attached to a bell. After a moment, a servant entered and blushed as he averted his eyes.

“You rang, your majesty?” The cowed servant asked.

“Yes. I shall need to be dressed. And be careful, there are assassins about.” The king stated nonchalantly, then took a healthy drink of his wine.

“Assassins?”

“Yes. Very sneaky, dangerous, successful ones.” He replied with a straight face. The servant grew rather pale.
“Dressing. Now.” Torgul’s good cheer seemed to melt away. The servant paled even more and scurried out of the room. When they were alone, King Torgul cackled. Backeeri wasn’t amused.

“Do you think we could find a solution, my liege?”

“Surely you’ve already got it worked out, eh, General Backeeri?”

“No. I have a few options ready, but I’m certain you’ll hate them all.” Konza folded his hands before himself as the servant returned with a fellow servant. The king followed the pair to the next room. While alone, Konza massaged his temples. His king irked him.

King Torgul returned after a bit, fully dressed.

“Where’s my cupbearer?” He demanded.

“Probably where you left him, your majesty.” Backeeri responded. The king huffed and stormed across the room,
and then through the sitting room and threw open the door. Backeeri followed him into the sitting room. He felt it was not prudent to allow the king to stray too far from his sight during such dangerous times as these.
Torgul backed away from the door silently, his hands coming up. Three men pushed their way into the sitting room, their swords bared. Konza’s blade was out in a flash, and the lead man bashed the king with the flat of his sword, a nondescript piece of sharp iron. The king fell, and the swordsmen stepped farther into the room. The lead man put his sword point to the king’s throat.

“Now, there’s no need to make this get ugly. You know what we are here for, and you know why.” The man said, but Konza was already on the move. His first swing took the leftmost man in the chest, and he drew his dagger as he spun, burying it into the assassin who had his blade to the king’s throat. The third man tried to run, but Backeeri swung low, severing the man’s hamstring. It was a short bloody fight that ended in two corpses and two wounded men. Konza poked his head out of the door and surveyed the scene.

The courtyard beyond the parapet was empty. Two corpses lay before the door, soaked in blood and wine. General Backeeri moved to the parapet and looked over to find the final corpse, one of the door guards, on the ground with his skull split. A glance around showed the area to be deserted. He returned to the room, shut the door and locked it. A quick inspection showed the king’s wound to be less than serious, and the one living assassin to be quite permanently crippled. Backeeri searched the assassins for weapons, and laid them out on a nearby table. There was a dirk, a hook-bladed dagger, a shortsword and a hatchet. The general stooped and grabbed the crippled man by his robe, sat him up by the wall and slammed him into it. The man groaned.

“Why are you all unarmored?” Backeeri hissed through clenched teeth. The man chuckled without mirth.

“We are all expendable. Why pay for armor for an army of assassins?”

“An army?” He nodded.

“An army. Who attacks a king’s castle with only three men?” It was Konza’s turn to nod.

“How many men?”

“How many stars hold up the sky?” Backeeri hit him.

“How many men?”

“I-“ Backeeri hit him again.

“How many?” He roared.

“I don’t know.” He coughed. “There were a lot of us in the room they brought us to. A hundred… Two? Not sure. The other kingdoms were supposed to match.”

“ And from which kingdom do you hail?” The assassin closed his mouth. Backeeri hit him, but the man’s lips remained tightly sealed. The general sighed and stood. “It looks like I have to do this the old fashioned way. Your majesty, can you please go to your bedchamber and pull the rope?” Torgul looked up from his empty chalice.

“What good are servants? We need soldiers.”

“Yes your majesty.” Konza said through gritted teeth. “We do. But until we know how many men we face and from what quarter they are coming from, we need to remain here. So then, if you can please, get me a messenger so that I can adequately save you, I would very much appreciate it.” The king balked at his sudden lack of courtesies, but something in the general’s eyes made him change his mind, because he went off to ring the bell in silence. Konza then walked over to the table, and laid his hand on the dirk. It occurred to him that he should probably follow the king to ensure his safety, but he was a little annoyed at the moment. “You know,” he said, addressing the captive assassin, “I hate doing this. Standing around, waiting for threats… I spent my entire career at war. Campfires, tents, horses… blood on the ground. But, now I babysit kings…” He moved his hand to the hook-bladed dagger.

“Oh well.” Konza Backeeri sighed as he lifted and slowly thumbed the blade. “You sir, are about to have a long day. So, the best idea for you is to tell me what I want to know.” With the blade still in hand, the general approached the man and hunkered beside him, his chainmail clinking slightly. “The truth, preferably.”