Damien IV

Damien lay on a lumpy bedroll in his tent, hating his duties as Chancellor after a bone wearying day. The small village of Greyfield had been full of panic. They knew about the Orc army heading their way, making most inhabitants want to flee.
    Damien tried to calm the townkeeper, telling him that their own army would crush the Orc invaders, but that didn't do much to appease the townsfolk. He spent hours talking, assuring them that the King would protect them.
    He did his best to pretend like he cared for their safety, convincing them that General Tarrik would defeat the Orcs in battle. While hoping Tarrik would do no such thing, since it would dramatically alter Damien's plans for the kingdom.
    Actually, he couldn't care less what happened to the people of Greyfield. They did little for the revenue of the kingdom and all Damien wanted was to make sure that they wouldn't flee to the capital as refugees, like so many other villages had already done.
    King Theowen was too accommodating to his subjects. The capital was overflowing with mouths to feed and once Damien's plans came to fruition he would take care of that problem, but for now, it would just have to do to keep as many people as possible in their small villages, far away from the city. Even if the Orcs ended up slaughtering them, there were always more citizens of Thecia in the south.
    A cough sounded outside of his sanctuary.
    Damien sighed, getting up onto his feet.
    "Come in!"
    "Excuse me, Chancellor. I thought you would want to hear the news from the battlefield. General Tarrik's sent an envoy to deliver the good news." Damien's attendant was elated by the report.
    Good news was not what Damien had been hoping for. Tarrik was competent enough, but he still didn't think he would have been able to defeat the Orcs in open battle. Maybe the beasts had underestimated the King's army and had been foolish, overconfident.
    "Send him in!" Damien let himself drop into the only chair in his tent, mulling over what this victory meant for his plans. A jug of water was placed on a table next to him. He took a swig and waited for the envoy, already trying to figure out his next move.
    A young man came in, bearing a sealed letter.
    "Lord Chancellor, sir. I bring great news. General Tarrik has defeated the Orc army heading this way. We took some prisoners and many were slain." The soldier spoke with excitement and pride.
    Damien noted that he said some and many, not all. That meant some had fled. He forced a smile on his lips, as it was expected of him when such "good" news was delivered. He raised his hand, gesturing for the report. "And our own casualties?"
    The young man's smile faded. "We suffered quite heavy losses, my Lord. The Orcs charged the infantry, pushing them back almost to breaking. The Guardian Torren arrived with the cavalry just in time to crush their advance and drive them off."
    Finally some good news, Damien thought. With many men killed or wounded he couldn't turn the victory into a defeat in the mind of those that mattered, but he could remind them what success had cost them. King Theowen's reckless behavior in starting the war and sending an unprepared army to clash with the Orcs will be remembered at his wake.
    Damien broke the seal of the report and scanned its content. "What's this about a prisoner that escaped from the Orcs before the battle?"
    "He was shot down before he reached the protection of the front line. He's alive, but seriously wounded. A giant of a man, I think he might pull through." Some of the envoy's cheery nature returned.
    "He might have gathered important information during his captivity. Have Tarrik send him to me once he's in a good enough condition, if he survives that is." Damien wondered what it must have been like to be in the clutches of those monsters. How long had the man been suffering under their harsh treatment?
    Damien shook off the thought and raised an eyebrow at the envoy. "Anything else to report?"
    The soldier stood at attention with renewed pride. "No, my Lord Chancellor."
    "Good! Then ride back to Tarrik and congratulate him. Have another envoy sent out to the King, he will be glad to hear of the victory. Also, have that envoy bring news to Commander Arensen. He should consider promoting Guardian Torren to Captain, it's quite possible that man's cavalry charge saved the army and all of northern Thecia."
    "Yes, my Lord." The young man left the tent with a quick stride.
    Damien took another swig from the jug, wishing it were a fine southern wine. His plans were drawing to a close and he wished to savor it. It wouldn't be long until Damien could give the signal for King Theowen's assassination.
    It would look like an accident of course, the King's personal guard would see to it. Then only the young, sickly princess would stand in his way and the throne, but not for long. Her health was never in good standings and the loss of her father would surely break her. Who else would she have to guide her and the kingdom, but the trustworthy Chancellor? At least, until she followed her father into the grave.

   

Damien III

Damien's horse slogged through the mud. Rain was pouring down from the sky in heavy sheets. His guards looked miserable as the rain pattered on their armor. Much the same as he felt.
    Power had its benefits, but it also brought responsibilities. In these hard times Damien was forced, as Chancellor of Thecia to trudge around the countryside and see what damages had been done to the outlying villages in the north. To lend support and hope where he could. To let the common men and women know that their King is looking out for them.
    The King's army was several leagues ahead of them, on their way to battle the Orcs. There was little hope in them being able to do much against an organized and bloodthirsty band of those monsters, but they should have their superior numbers to count on. The main reason to send the army was to gain more time for the new battalion to be trained and to stop those beasts from harassing their borders.
    The little light they had on this cloudy day was starting to fade. Soon the guardian of his entourage would call them to a stop and they would make camp. Damien's thighs were chaffed and his buttocks was aching. He couldn't wait to get off this damn horse and relax in front of a fire in his tent.
    "Halt!" The guardian brought his horse to a stop. Finally! Damien couldn't take it anymore. "Chancellor Damien, Sir. Some riders are coming."
    "What!" Was there no end to his misery. "General Tarrik must have sent some of his scouts to inform us of their progress. Or the lack thereof in this damnable weather."
    "I can't see the King's standard, Sir. I'm not so sure their the general's men. Best be safe and stay behind us, Sir." The guardian drew his sword. "Line up beside me and protect the Chancellor at all costs."
    Damien drew in his reins watching as his guards formed up before him. Although they didn't know who was coming and if they were even in danger, Damien couldn't keep himself from shaking. The cold rain and the uncertainty of the situation made him uneasy as he drew in a rattling breath.
    "Who goes there?" The guardian shouted to the oncoming riders. They slowed and trotted up to Damien's protectors. There was tension in the air. Damien's mouth was so dry he could barely swallow. Funny, considering the massive amounts of rain pouring down on him.
    The figures could not be distinguished as friend or foe until they were only a few paces away. Their hoods covered them from the rain and made their features unrecognizable. They were carrying weapons, but they did not draw them when being challenged with his guards' cold steel.
    "No need to fear us, humans. We come in peace." The leader of the riders reached up to remove the hood from his head. It was an Elf. "The Druids have been discussing how to deal with the situation between you and the Orcs. I believe Chancellor Damien is with you?"
    "I am here." Damien nudged his horse forward. He was still shaking, but he contributed that to the cold and being soaked from head to toe. "Guardian, sheathe your blade. All of you, get to work and set up my tent. We make camp for tonight. The Elves and I must talk."
    The leader donned his hood again and waited patiently upon his horse for Damien's men to prepare everything. Damien lowered his own hood to not let them see the grimace on his face. Elves changed everything. This was not according to plan.
    Sooner or later they were bound to get involved, but he had hoped it wouldn't be so soon. The great battles that were to come hadn't even started yet. If they offered their support too early all his carefully laid out plans could be ruined.
    His tent was standing within a couple of minutes. He entered and was glad to get out of the rain, but he wouldn't have time to change before the Elves came in. It would be too rude to let them wait outside. His guards brought in four folding chairs and the Elves followed them inside.
    "Make sure to get a fire started. We don't want our guests to get a chill, now do we?" And he didn't want to get one either for that matter.
    "I'm sorry Sir, but with this heavy rain I don't know if we'll find enough dry wood, if any." Damien glared at the guardian and felt the wet clothes sticking to his body more than ever. How could the man expect him to be in this cold dark tent all night without a fire.
    One of the three Elves stepped forward. "Let me be of help in making the fire. The wood need not be dry, I will make it burn just fine."
    The guardian and his men exited the tent, leaving Damien alone with the Elves. "Please, be seated." Damien found his own chair with the help of a sliver of light coming through the air vent at the top of the tent. The chair wasn't very comfortable. There was no back rest, only a sheet of cloth bound over four wooden legs. Comforts were a rare commodity when traveling.
    "Nyf, some light, if you please." The leader of the Elves spoke to the one who had offered to help with the fire. The Elf pulled out a small bottle with tiny dots of light inside. He shook it, making the dots become bright little suns, illuminating the tent.
    It was like magic. Damien had never seen anything like it, but he wouldn't give them the satisfaction of knowing that. He just smiled gracefully and nodded toward their seats.
    With the new light the Elves easily found their chairs and sat down. The leader was directly across from Damien and the other two were slightly behind him to either side. They all removed their hoods and only now did Damien notice that the third Elf was a woman.
    "Chancellor Damien, this is Conjurer Nyf of the third degree." He indicated the Elf holding up the light.
    "And this is Ranger Veala." The female Elf nodded with a cool glare in her eyes.
    "I, myself, am Lorian the Whisperer. We've come to inform you and your King of what the Druids have decided."
    "I didn't expect the Elves to be so well informed about the goings on of Thecia. I am of course glad that you have come to offer help and will let the King know immediately."
    "We did not come to offer help." Lorian's face was solemn.
    Before Damien could respond, the guardian came back inside the tent with a handful of firewood. "Excuse me, Sir. Here is the wood. It's pretty damp, so I don't know how easy it'll be to get a fire started."
    Nyf got up from his seat and unburdened the guardian. He placed the wood in the center of the tent and Damien thought he saw him add some powder on the logs. With a flick of Nyf's wrist fire burst forth and the wood burned greedily.
    The guardian's eyes opened wide at the sight. Some conjurer's trick, Damien was sure. It seemed like magic and it looked impressive, just like the light from the bottle, but he shouldn't let himself be distracted. "You can leave us now, Guardian."
    "Yes, Sir." He bowed and left the tent.
    "Excuse me for not responding quicker, but I did not want to discuss this in front of my men. What do you mean by not coming to offer help? Why did you come?" Damien said this with as much shock as he could muster, while grinning mischievously in the back of his mind. No help from the Elves, meant that his plans were still in tact.
    "The Druids have talked it over for some time. We were all concerned when we heard of the conflict between you and the Orcs. Most of us still remember the Great War and we still feel the pain and loss from over a century ago. We do not want a new war to evolve, but it seems like you are on the brink of one. If worst comes to worst, we don't want to be fighting the Orcs again. That and the fact the humans seem to have been the cause of this, are the reasons why the Druids have decided that we will not help you in this war."
    Damien gave his best impression of being hurt and surprised. "I don't understand. We're allies. The Orcs used to be your enemies too." A thoughtful pause. "The King will be very disappointed when he hears this."
    "I'm sorry, but our kind is just not willing to risk lives in a war that has nothing to do with us. You will have to accept that and so will your king." Lorian rose from his seat and his companions followed his example.
    "I will inform the King at once." Damien jumped up from his seat, following the Elves to the flap of the tent. "We were hoping to have your support in this conflict, but we'll fight bravely without you."
    "I hope you do, Chancellor. Fighting the Orcs is not an easy thing. I, for one, would have gladly stood by you, but the Druids have spoken." Lorian clasped his hand on Damien's shoulder, turned and left the tent with the other two right behind him.
    Damien smiled. The Elves were out of the picture. At least, for now. There surely must also be others like Lorian that are willing to fight. They just need a little bit of an incentive and Damien already had something in mind. He would just have to wait until the time was ripe.

   

Damien II

    Damien sat at his desk, scribbling ideas on a piece of paper. There had to be more that he could do on his own to secure his success. He couldn't just rely on secret deals and promises. He had to take things into his own hands to be sure.
    Speaking of the devil, a shrouded figure stepped out of a dark corner of his office. Damien wondered how it was possible for the man to come out of shadows like that. It was a neat trick.
    "What do you want?" Damien demanded. He was busy and wanted the man to know who was in charge.
    "I came to congratulate you." The man's voice was smooth like a knife being pulled out of a velvet lined scabbard. "You have accomplished everything we asked so far."
    "I know that." The man's bearing and dark clothing was sure to intimidate some, but Damien was not impressed. "Now, isn't it about time that I get what I was promised?"
    The man uttered a deep chuckle. Though his mouth was covered by the cloth wrapped around his head, the man's eyes twinkled as he smiled. "You are an impatient man Chancellor Damien. You do not like to be idle. That is good." The man's gloved hand wandered over the edge of Damien's desk. "But if your actions are too rash, then you may end up with nothing."
    Damien tapped the piece of paper with his quill. "So I must wait. Be patient. That's what your telling me? Otherwise you won't..."
    "Otherwise you will ruin everything." The man interrupted. "We have no qualms with your ambitions and have no need to threaten to hinder you. We just want you to uphold your part of the bargain." The man's head turned slightly and he started moving back towards the corner he came from. "I came to inform you that we were satisfied so far, but there is still more that you must do."
    There was a knock at the door. Damien looked away for one second and when he returned his gaze, the man had disappeared into thin air. "Come in!"
    A servant entered.
    "My lord, Commander Arenson has requested your presence." The young man stepped forward and placed a scroll on his desk.
    Damien leaned forward to pick it up and broke the seal. It was a simple summons, lacking any information of what the meeting would be about. Typical Arenson. That man didn't know what his brain was for. If it weren't for his prowess in battle he wouldn't be in such a high position.
    The young servant looked at him timidly. "What is it, lad?"
    "The Commander asked for you to come immediately."
    "Well, why didn't you say so? And this piece of paper said nothing about immediacy either." Damien shoved his chair back and rose to his feet. "Fine! Go on ahead. Tell him that I'm on my way."
    The servant scurried off and left him to pack up his notes and scrolls. Arenson hadn't mentioned what the meeting was about, but it wasn't necessary. Damien knew what he wanted to discuss. He always knew what that fool wanted his help for.
    He had gathered his things and made his way through the castle. When he reached Arenson's door, he paused. Drew in a deep breath and tried to relax. It would be no good to show his true feelings in front of his superiors.
    Damien knocked and was let inside by the same servant that had called for him moments earlier.
    "Chancellor Damien! I'm glad you could come. I wanted to discuss the preparations for the new battalion with you." Arenson stood by his desk, arms outstretched in a welcoming gesture, with a big smile on his face.
    "Ah, yes. That is a good idea Commander. As it happens, I have a few documents here with lists of men stationed in other battalions and men who have recently enlisted into the King's army. There are plenty of prime candidates for this special battalion."
    "Wonderful, Chancellor. Well done." Arenson gestured for Damien to take a seat while he sat down himself. "We will need experienced fighters. Strong and tall. The best of the best."
    "I was thinking the same." Damien sat down and chose a few scrolls that he rolled out on the commander's desk. "Here are some experienced men who have proven themselves in battle. I also suggest these new recruits for the battalion. They are strong and tall as you said."
    "Excellent! They will need some training, but that's what the experienced men will be there for." Arenson smiled, picking up one of the scrolls and going over the names Damien had marked as candidates. "It seems a large chunk of the battalion is still missing though." He was bound to notice sooner or later.
    Damien fiddled with the rest of his scrolls. "Well, Commander, Sir. I wasn't sure about it at first, but your words have discarded my doubts. You said you wanted the best of the best. Of course, that would mean the royal guard. I wouldn't..."
    "What?" Arenson looked worried. "That can't be done. The King needs to be protected. What would he say..."
    "What would the King say if the new battalion wasn't the strongest it could be?" Damien raised his eybrows. "You wanted the best. The most experienced. That's the royal guard." Arenson was about to interrupt him, but Damien continued on heedlessly. "Of course, we can't take every soldier. Some experienced and smart men need to stay at their posts to train the new recruits for the guard. But I really believe these men are needed to make this new battalion what it needs to be to defeat the Orcs."
    Arenson's brow began to unfurrow. A hint of a smile came to his lips. "You think that will really make the difference?"
    "The Orcs are strong, but those gruesome monsters can be defeated. This new battalion will make sure of it." Damien raised his fist for show. Arenson had been worried that not even this battalion would be able to face the Orcs. His words were convincing the commander, making him eat out of Damien's hand.
    "If some of the old royal guards train the new recruits and the rest join the battalion. I guess that will be alright."Arenson looked at the lists one last time and rolled them back up. "Take this with you again and prepare all the orders. This battalion will tear the Orcs apart. It will overcome any obstacle and will be triumphant."
    Damien grabbed his things and bid Arenson farewell. Yes, the battalion would do great things, he was sure of it. But even greater things would be happening in the palace once the new recruits for the royal guard were in place.

   

Damien

Chancellor Damien and his guards arrived at noon. The attack on the Orc settlement had already been performed by Captain Bron. From afar everything looked satisfactory. Tents and huts were afire and many bodies of those grisly beasts could be seen scattered about. Only when Damien and his men came closer did he see their own casualties.
     Too many dead and wounded. They were supposed to slaughter these ghastly women and their hell spawn. How could so many have put up a fight? He didn't understand these beasts, but it seems he and the commander had both underestimated their strength.
One of Captain Bron's scouts came riding towards him. "Chancellor Damien, sir! The settlement is ours."
     "I can see that. Take me to Captain Bron!"
     "Sir... he was wounded during the fighting."
     "Is he conscious?"
     "Yes, sir!"
     "Then take me to him. Now!"
     "Yes, sir!" The scout rode off. Damien and his men followed.
     A tent for the wounded had been set up outside the settlement. More and more of the men who had taken injuries were heading towards it. Guards were posted by the entrance. They stood at attention as soon as they saw Damien arrive.
     "He's inside. May I return to my post, sir? Who knows if the Orcs will retaliate." The scout rained in his horse, but seemed eager to get back. That was good. He knew his duty.
     "Yes, yes. Go ahead, soldier." Damien got down from his horse and entered the tent. His men stayed outside. Maybe that would help the other two guards stay at attention.
     The tent reeked of blood and other bodily fluids. Why had so many been wounded. This was supposed to be an easy victory. Damien discovered Captain Bron in the back, a bandage around his chest and his head and one arm in a sling. He got up from his cot and stood at attention.
     "Chancellor, sir! Does the commander have more orders?" He seemed fit enough, even though he must have taken quite a beating.
     "Camp here and have your scouts keep an eye on the mines. You might want to fortify the camp with ditches and stakes. Who knows how those beasts will react to our advances."
     "Yes, sir. Those of my men that are able are already digging. The commander can rely on us, sir."
     "I also wanted to hear a detailed account of how the attack went. I can see that there are more casualties than I and the commander expected. Can you tell me how this happened?"
     "Sir... maybe we could step outside for a moment?" The captain looked around at his wounded men. He seemed uneasy talking about the fight in front of them. Damien couldn't understand why, but he nodded his consent. Captain Bron threw a jacket over his shoulders, covering the bandaged ribs and the sling.
     They left the tent together and headed towards the settlement. Damien's guards held a respectable distance. As they got closer, Damien could see more and more of the Orc bodies. Their swamp-like skin color mixed with the red of their blood. That and their frozen, dead faces set in anguish made them look even more like hideous demons of nature.
     "It happened early on during the fighting." Captain Bron began as they were finally out of earshot from others. "There was a male Orc still in the camp. He knocked me off my horse... I'm lucky he didn't kill me. Unlike the ten he did kill or maim, before he escaped."
     "You're telling me you let that beast get away?" How could such a thing manage all that? Ten soldiers, defeated by one of them.
     "They are smarter and stronger than you would think. Even the women fought hard and killed several. Quite a few escaped with their children as well."
     "Don't compare their kind with ours. They are beasts, all of them. Understood, Captain?"
     "Yes, sir!" Captain Bron stood at attention. He seemed tense, but he was a good man. A good soldier.
     "Good. Now, do you have anything you want me to tell the commander? I'll be on my way again immediately."
     "My men were well trained, but they had no chance against a grown male Orc. If this turns into a war, sir. Then we need to be better prepared. We need to train men that can fight these..."
     "Beasts!" Damien realized that the captain didn't like calling them that, but that's what they were. "I will inform the commander. We will have to begin training immediately. You've assumed correctly. This was only the beginning and war is coming!"