Argrave stood just beside Galamon, Anneliese on his other side. He felt a sense of relief no longer being surrounded by twelve additional warm bodies. This was because the twelve warm bodies that generally guarded him were instead training. At present, they trained in archery. Even the morning before they departed, Galamon insisted they receive basic training.
“They’re decently equipped, Your Majesty,” Galamon told Argrave. “Ebonice daggers, brought by Anneliese’s friend Hirnala… I prefer axes, myself. Most Veidimen infantrymen do. Handles can be wooden without hindering the ice’s effect, they offer additional reach to keep the spell away from your body, and they’re still effective as instruments of war.” Galamon crossed his arms. “Nonetheless, these daggers they’re equipped with will suffice against lesser mages. I’d like to request some spellcasters to perform training with genuine spells.”
Argrave nodded, more focused on the archery display. “I’d like to request that, too. We don’t have many. Spellcasters like to avoid the big cities, generally… it makes it difficult for practice, et cetera. We’re lacking woefully,” He shook his head. “Only the Wratsons have some to spare, I should think. I don’t like the idea of owing a debt to their vampiric patriarch…”
“Hmm,” Galamon grunted. “The armor… certainly not the same quality as those in the royal forges of Dirracha. Metal’s fine, but the enchantments… they’re only protective. It’s not the same.” Galamon grabbed at his old armor. “The forges in Dirracha use old enchantment techniques that enhance strength, speed… that, coupled with the crown Your Majesty had me retrieve from that elven tomb, and I am far and away the best equipped. I can fight six of them at once.”
“I think that’s more because of you than them,” Argrave turned his head. “Afraid I can’t do anything about their enchantments. Dirracha reforges old elven artifacts into armor, you know. They don’t forge new equipment. Most of it is locked away in Dirracha. After Levin’s betrayal, I’m not sure the forges even have material.”
“I see,” Galamon nodded. “They’ve a lot to learn. At swordsmanship, most excel. It’s a common weapon here. But archery, spears, axes… pitiful.”
Argrave watched as an arrow hit in the center of a dummy’s head. “Pitiful?”
“They’re standing still on a windless field,” Galamon shook his head.
“Maybe specialization isn’t so bad,” Argrave suggested. “Using so many weapons…”
“The best must be versatile. Knowing how to use a weapon means knowing how to fight against it, too. To guard a king? To guard with their lives? They are still lacking,” Galamon declared, voice a low growl. “But they have good spirits, and they are willing to learn. Anneliese was right about their character. And once they learn, they can teach others. Twelve can become twelve hundred. The foundation of a structure is the most pivotal for building high.”
“…let’s not get carried away,” Argrave said quietly.
“Let me advise Your Majesty as one who stood beside Dras in his conquest—as someone with grand ambitions, one cannot compromise for anything less than perfection,” Galamon said loudly, showing his commitment to his words. “The quality and cohesion of the kingdom’s forces are paramount, especially considering what comes in the future.”
Argrave looked at his vampiric companion, staring at his white eyes. “Alright. I trust you on this. I made you knight-commander not just to keep you close, but because I knew there is no one better fitting for that role on the continent.”
Galamon turned his head away. Argrave couldn’t tell if the words pleased him.
“On another front… how goes the self-drinking?” he asked.
Anneliese sighed. “Please do not call it that.”
“…I do feel it. I feel that artifact, the eye you wanted me to look for. The glass eye,” Galamon said, his voice low and dangerous. “No… I see it. And it sees me. It watches, peering through the world at me like the ground and the walls are all glass themselves.”
“Well… I think you can lessen on using the black bowl if the feeling is so intense. It if starts to fade, maybe pick it up again. In the future, you might use it before battle,” Argrave suggested.
Galamon looked vaguely discontent, and eventually asked, “…what is the eye? What are these vampiric artifacts?”
“Fragments from the source,” Argrave explained quickly. “That’s all I know, really. Could be the original vampire. Could be whatever brought vampirism about. I’m not privy to such details, even as obsessed with this world as I was. Sometimes, the answers just aren’t there. They like to keep us guessing.”
“Obsessed… that’s a fitting word. There’s obsession in these artifacts,” Galamon said, voice low. “The knife, Althazar… it’s self-hatred. The bowl… I’m not sure, not yet. Self-perfection? Narcissism? Purification?” the elven vampire popped his knuckles.
“Well, on that matter, perhaps it’s best not to get too absorbed into what they are,” Argrave said pointedly. “These are a means to an end. A means to get you well.”
“One of many means, yet we pursue this one,” Galamon said. “One that excises the vampiric beasts yet retains its powers.”
“This upsets you,” Anneliese noticed.
“I…” Galamon closed his eyes. “I don’t wish to be more than mortal. I want to live a good life and die amongst family. Nothing more.”
Argrave stared at the training royal guard for a time, listening to the sound of their bowstrings twanging, their arrows hitting the wooden dummies.
“Won’t act like I understand that desire. In your shoes, I’d be jumping at the opportunity for vampirism with no downsides—not even the whole ‘drinking blood’ part,” Argrave said evenly. “As it happens, though, you live in a time where the peaceful family life you want is threatened by a calamity hoping to end the world.”
“That justifies all? That justifies these Wratsons, a family of vampires in the heart of a city?” Galamon asked. “Don’t mistake me—I will follow you until death, Your Majesty. These are merely my thoughts of late.”
Argrave sighed. He hadn’t minded that title at first, but when someone he considered one of his best friends used it, it put distance between them he didn’t like. “You’ve been travelling with me a long while, Galamon. Longer than anyone else. I can say only Anneliese knows me better, and that’s because she’s made a very concerted effort. You’ll know this, then: I’m quite good at compartmentalizing. And at this stage… do you think I can reasonably stop working with the Wratsons? Do you think that’s prudent, in my new role?”
Galamon thought about that question for a long while, giving it a thorough examination. His body shifted, and he lowered his head once the answer was reached.
“No,” Galamon said. “The Wratsons help us at every turn, despite their nature. Without them… the war would be harder, and more lives would be lost.”
“I do want… to be a good person,” Argrave said. “I do want to be a good friend, too. To you, to Durran. Sometimes, though… we can’t choose just for ourselves. Do you think your wife, your son, would care about these new abilities of yours? They love you even as you are now.”
“…that makes it… easier to swallow,” Galamon finally said.
Argrave smiled bitterly at his manipulative mention of family. “I hope you’ll continue to give me honest counsel, honest thoughts. And if I need to do something I don’t want to for the good of the realm… please, help me see.”
#####
“So, while Your Majesty is off delving into a brand-new fortress and living life up, we’ll be doing the hard logistics of the march to restore order in the north,” Durran said with a smile.
“Already ‘we,’ is it?” Argrave said, looking over a map that Durran had laid out across the table. “You’re doing a war of a different kind. How goes it with Elenore?”
Durran frowned. “You want me to discuss my tactics against your sister? Odd. A bit more debauched than I took you for.”
“You’re dodging because you’ve made no progress,” Argrave decided.
“Think what you will, Your Majesty,” Durran shook his head, unaffected. Argrave couldn’t determine whether it was because it was untrue, or if Durran was just unbothered by that fact. “Killing your digression in its infancy… I don’t see supply being an impeding factor. Felipe, saboteur extraordinaire, is rotting in a cell a few blocks away from Levin, the second impediment… even so, Elenore is being cautious on that front. Our supply won’t be compromised. Indeed, it grows every day.”
Argrave nodded. “Do you have actual troop counts, I wonder?”
“Sure,” Durran stood up, then walked away to look for something. He pulled out several scrolls, then splayed them out across the table. “Elenore… was really quite meticulous…,” he said, voice trailing off as he bent down and retrieved things. “She wanted to determine which patricians were threats to Leopold, you see.”
“And so?” Argrave pressed.
“Hmm… arithmetic…” Durran’s eyes wandered the pages. “Twenty-two thousand men, it would appear, give or take a few hundred. Leopold’s portion comprises five thousand men. This doesn’t account for spellcasters, or leaders. Central Vasquer possesses about twice our number, presently, but there are great disparities in how well they’re equipped—some are conscripted levies, while some are knights with glowing swords that cost thousands. Our force is well-rounded, well-equipped—crossbowmen, efficiently armed and armored infantryman. We have very little cavalry and fewer magic users. Ideally the expedition into the north will mitigate both.”
“Five thousand from the Dandalans? Leopold’s force is that strong?” Argrave raised a brow.
“Uhh… yeah,” Durran nodded. “You underestimate how much he benefitted from revoking the Rescindment of Profligacy and Corruption, Your Majesty. Merchant families were willing to sell most everything they owned to be named patricians and be granted the dubious privilege of participating in city politics.”
“His son leads my escort to the new fortress, another of his sons is my personal aide, he’s the most wealthy man in Relize…” Argrave shook his head. “The Dandalans are on the rise.”
“Yeah. Well, if you’re feeling some spontaneous rise of paranoia, Your Majesty, rest assured—Elenore monitors the family closely,” Durran put the page on the table. “I guess it shows that loyalty to you is rewarded. It’s a fitting display for the rest of them.”
“A lot to keep track of,” Argrave shook his head. “Oh, well. I just wanted to check in before we left. Well, enough—everyone else is waiting.”
#####
“I’ll keep things well at hand here,” Elenore informed Argrave. “But you should travel safely going to the fortress. Things can go awry in ways you might not ever expect,” she reminded him pointedly.
“I have new, capable knights protecting me, each and all now armed with Ebonice weaponry,” Argrave looked back to his royal guard, Galamon heading them. “And you—you’ll be equally cautious, I hope? Things are different than they were in that greenhouse. You’ve poked your head out of the ground. People know you’re important to my operations. And important people, figureheads…”
“Make important targets, yes,” Elenore nodded.
“I’ll keep the princess safe, Your Majesty. Simply go off and conquer,” Durran gave him a wave.
“…I’ve taken measures regarding my safety, don’t worry,” Elenore said, brushing off Durran’s comment. “I’ll be in Relize, the center of our power. It’s you who should be worried of their safety. Only one thousand troops…”
“We have scouts that use druidic magic, and I know how to avoid battles,” Argrave shook his head. “If this goes on, we’ll get into a worrying competition.”
“Should take ten days to there and back, given the majority of our troops are on foot,” Galamon noted, and Argrave turned his head to listen. “We’ll garrison the place, take care of Your Majesty’s side business, and then return. We’ll establish supply lines, provision the place, and keep a close eye on the nearby fortifications. Once we return here, the true danger begins—restoring order in the north,” Galamon reminded them.
Argrave stepped forward and hugged his sister. “I think he speaks to hurry me up,” he reflected. “Take care,” he said, stepping away.
“And you,” Elenore smiled. “I will be in contact if anything should arise.”
