Read Online The Forgotten (The Lost Words: Volume 3) by Igor Ljubuncic - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Igor Ljubuncic
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sure small, petty people did not abuse his rule to settle old scores. As far as invading another country went, Athesia was blessedly calm. You had your usual postwar share of thieves and army deserters coming back as confused villagers, brigands roaming the land, lost children wandering the dusty roads, an occasional Oth Danesh pirate caught and lynched by an angry mob, rebels and renegade soldiers posing as ordinary citizens, spies of all sorts, mercenaries seeking favor and payment for battles they may not have fought, and people with fickle loyalty bending knee to the new king.
It was nothing compared to how the Red Desert raids had looked in his youth. You couldn’t stop until you impaled every last severed head on a stake and burned the tribe camps to the ground. But these people were not mongrels. They were people of the faith, lost and confused, much like him. They looked the same; they spoke the same language. If he started butchering them, the neighboring realms might decide they preferred Adam’s offspring to him after all.
He would have to figure out what to do with Sasha’s punishments, but he still had time.
Sergei approached his sister. She was so tough, so cruel. And the only one suitable for the rule of this land. He had intended to bestow Athesia upon his son. Then, he had deliberated giving it to one of his dukes, but none had deserved it. Their performance in this war had been shameful at best. They had failed him, almost universally. And now, they were gone back to their homes, their one year of duty expired.
Athesia was now in the hands of the Red Caps and Borei. The women had no homes to return to, and the mercenaries always hoped for more gold.
Sergei had appointed Captain Speinbate as the princedom governor. It was a meaningless title, but one he had promised the man. One day, Speinbate’s many bastard children would be able to claim some relation to the Parusite nobility, by grace if not blood.
More importantly, Speinbate was in charge of keeping peace in the countryside. With his army much reduced by the departure of most of his retainers and their regiments, he could not afford to send regular troops into the rural areas and take care of every little detail. However, the Borei were perfect for that task. Nothing invoked debilitating fear among brigands as the sight of an olifaunt trampling down a dusty lane,screeching. The mercenaries were also crafty buggers when it came to peddling and money, and they made sure no tax was evaded. Their wild, eccentric appearance caused the braver or more desperate citizens to quickly reconsider their little vices.
There was a price, though. Responsibility.
Captain Speinbate was responsible for the king’s peace. His own life depended on it.
Sergei was amazed by how disciplined the Borei could be when properly motivated.
Inside the city, he had disbanded the surviving City Guard and then rebuilt a new City Watch from those who would lay down their weapons and forswear their loyalty to Empress Amalia. Those who had refused now rotted in jails, awaiting execution.
Sergei had hoped to meet the famous Commander Gerald, but that was another hope dashed to pieces. The captain of Roalas had died defending the palace. Another satisfaction denied him.
Gerald’s deputies had surrendered and now patrolled the city streets alongside the Red Caps, demoted, humbled, but still very much alive, and constantly watched for any treachery. Most of the officers had done the same thing, and deep down, it worried him, but he would not break his word.
His initial plan to kill the entire army echelon had worn off after he had seen his son’s body wrapped in blood-soaked sheets. For some reason, he had lost the zeal, lost the hunger for humiliation. Most men found the deaths of their children to invoke murderous rage in their hearts. Sergei had merely felt humbled, saddened, empty.
Killing people for defending their homes would have been a sign of weakness. Not their
It was nothing compared to how the Red Desert raids had looked in his youth. You couldn’t stop until you impaled every last severed head on a stake and burned the tribe camps to the ground. But these people were not mongrels. They were people of the faith, lost and confused, much like him. They looked the same; they spoke the same language. If he started butchering them, the neighboring realms might decide they preferred Adam’s offspring to him after all.
He would have to figure out what to do with Sasha’s punishments, but he still had time.
Sergei approached his sister. She was so tough, so cruel. And the only one suitable for the rule of this land. He had intended to bestow Athesia upon his son. Then, he had deliberated giving it to one of his dukes, but none had deserved it. Their performance in this war had been shameful at best. They had failed him, almost universally. And now, they were gone back to their homes, their one year of duty expired.
Athesia was now in the hands of the Red Caps and Borei. The women had no homes to return to, and the mercenaries always hoped for more gold.
Sergei had appointed Captain Speinbate as the princedom governor. It was a meaningless title, but one he had promised the man. One day, Speinbate’s many bastard children would be able to claim some relation to the Parusite nobility, by grace if not blood.
More importantly, Speinbate was in charge of keeping peace in the countryside. With his army much reduced by the departure of most of his retainers and their regiments, he could not afford to send regular troops into the rural areas and take care of every little detail. However, the Borei were perfect for that task. Nothing invoked debilitating fear among brigands as the sight of an olifaunt trampling down a dusty lane,screeching. The mercenaries were also crafty buggers when it came to peddling and money, and they made sure no tax was evaded. Their wild, eccentric appearance caused the braver or more desperate citizens to quickly reconsider their little vices.
There was a price, though. Responsibility.
Captain Speinbate was responsible for the king’s peace. His own life depended on it.
Sergei was amazed by how disciplined the Borei could be when properly motivated.
Inside the city, he had disbanded the surviving City Guard and then rebuilt a new City Watch from those who would lay down their weapons and forswear their loyalty to Empress Amalia. Those who had refused now rotted in jails, awaiting execution.
Sergei had hoped to meet the famous Commander Gerald, but that was another hope dashed to pieces. The captain of Roalas had died defending the palace. Another satisfaction denied him.
Gerald’s deputies had surrendered and now patrolled the city streets alongside the Red Caps, demoted, humbled, but still very much alive, and constantly watched for any treachery. Most of the officers had done the same thing, and deep down, it worried him, but he would not break his word.
His initial plan to kill the entire army echelon had worn off after he had seen his son’s body wrapped in blood-soaked sheets. For some reason, he had lost the zeal, lost the hunger for humiliation. Most men found the deaths of their children to invoke murderous rage in their hearts. Sergei had merely felt humbled, saddened, empty.
Killing people for defending their homes would have been a sign of weakness. Not their
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