The Council had become a much noisier place than Matt remembered.

As Matt strode across the chamber, a hush fell over the gathered nobility. They turned to stare at him as he climbed towards the throne, his mace still in his hand. The lifeguards stood at the entrance, as was tradition. Their very presence seemed to remind the Council exactly where the power of their government still lay.

Matt walked to the throne and lowered himself into it. He was still a little sore from his journeys, and he hadn't gotten nearly as much rest as he'd wanted. The Council had graciously allowed him the chance to clean the mud from his boots before they'd sent a request for his presence, and Tanya hadn't gotten around to yelling at him yet, but he still barely felt like he'd had enough chance to catch his breath.

Then again, it was better to keep moving than to wait for things to happen. Better to cause the trouble than to deal with someone else's mess.

He smiled at the thought, recognizing it as a sign of his own fatigue. Then a familiar figure stood, nodding to Matt as he did so.

Lord Torth was still the leader of the High Imps, from what Gorfeld had told him. The nobleman had been outside the city when Matt returned, but he'd apparently ridden hard to be back in time for the Council's meeting. He seemed almost as tired as Matt felt, but he smiled at Matt from where he stood. "My liege, I congratulate you once again on a victorious return from the battlefield. The entire Kingdom rejoices in the knowledge that the Copper Hills are once again a place of true loyalty to the crown."

A number of noblemen echoed the sentiment, with some even thumping staves or canes against the floor in agreement. Torth waited for a moment until the noise had died down. Then he continued. "We have only recently concluded an extension of the ceasefire between our Kingdom and the Sunken Clans that now includes the Ponthuul Forest. I hope that our work has met with your approval, and that you forgive us for proceeding while you were absent."

Torth sat, and Matt nodded. "It has, Lord Torth. Your duty as members of this Council is to care for the needs and concerns of the people. My attention will often be turned to other problems and threats. It is why I rely on your wisdom to guide the Kingdom in my absence, and I am happy to say that you did your duty well."

Not that he wouldn't have appreciated them doing it a little slower, but he didn't think he could really fault them for doing their best in a bad situation. They hadn't even tried to use the opportunity to stab him in the back. It was almost laudable.

"At the same time, our situation has now changed. While the threat to our southeast has lessened, the rest of the Alliance remains unbroken. We will need to continue our campaigns until the war is finally brought to an end."

Another High Imp, one that Matt didn't recognize, rose to her feet. Her voice trembled only a little as she spoke. "Sire, may I ask where you intend to strike? I had heard that there were orders to move against the Elves, but the treaty would forbid it."

A Hard Scythe Orc abruptly broke out laughing. The Imp gave him an offended look, but he waved it away. "Oh, worry not Pemmord. I was just picturing our King responding to that treaty. If there's anything the Dwarves wouldn't want, it is him walking into their capital. After all, look what he did to Greyhenge!"

More chuckles ran through the chamber, and Matt hoped that his own reaction remained buried beneath his expression. It was not the time for those flashes of guilt and horror to make themselves felt now. "I do not intend to repeat that action, Lord Sugron. It was costly enough, and dangerous enough, that I would not risk it."

A more solemn silence filled the room, and he continued. "Besides, we have another place where we can still strike. I plan to march south across the Blackstone and put an end to our enemies in the Order of Lion's Roar. From there, we can continue our assault against the rest of the Alliance until they are dead, or willing to surrender."

It was his hope he could manage to at least kill all of the Oath-sworn monarchs while he was still on the plains, actually. Conquering another nation was not something he really wanted to deal with. His own Kingdom was complicated enough as it was. Perhaps just being present would lure the surviving Oath-sworn out from the other nations as well, drawing them like iron to a magnet.

He looked up as a noblewoman from the Blackleaf Goblins rose. Her smile was a wide one. "A bold plan, my liege. I look forward to seeing you return in triumph!"

A Gnome got to his feet just as she sat. "May I ask which troops you plan on using for this venture, my King? As far as I am aware, you've left many of your soldiers in the Copper Hills, and most of the rest are still either needed for our defense, or are recovering their casualties."

Matt noted a sudden tension in the room, as if the gathered nobility already knew the answer. He took a deep breath. "You are not incorrect, Lord Samgrunet. Our brave soldiers, despite their continual demonstration of honor and courage, have suffered greatly during this war, and we have not had time to give them a chance to restore their numbers." There was an expectant silence as he paused. "For that reason, I intend to march south with a force made up mostly of the Mage-Errants, reinforced by members of the Irregulars. Their numbers should be sufficient for an effective strike."

It seemed like an entire contingent of the nobility was on its feet in a heartbeat. Several of them attempted to shout over each other, but a man from the Red Moons managed to make himself heard over the rest. "My liege, I must protest! While the Irregulars have indeed proven themselves on the field of battle, they remain Low Folk that require noble support. Further, these Mage-Errants who you would depend on would be kin to the very Knights you would be fighting! Surely they cannot be trusted with this task, much less the responsibility of guarding your royal person."

Another nobleman shot to his feet the moment the Orc sat. The Imp wasn't as impressive as the Orc had been, but he seemed no less determined. "I must second these concerns, sire, and add to them that these Mage-Errants, as you call them, have been entrusted with many of the royal and noble secrets of our Kingdom. If we allow them to carry such secrets beyond our borders, what would keep them from simply deserting and delivering those secrets to our enemies? For all we know, many of them could have sworn to serve us for that exact purpose. Better we keep them here, where they can be watched."

To Matt's immediate unhappiness, another voice spoke up a moment later, this time from one of the seats on the floor. He turned as Voice Cholia spoke, her voice more confident than she'd been the last time he'd seen her. "I must agree, my liege. While I would not question your judgment, and cannot forbid you in anything, this seems a dangerous gamble to make. We cannot survive as a Kingdom without you, and you would place yourself in a position where the Alliance would only need to convince one of their former peasants to strike at your back. Please reconsider this plan."

To her credit, the objection was far, far more polite than she'd ever been before. Her typical abrasive orders had been completely absent, and although she still stared at him with a kind of blatant challenge, it had lost something of the contempt that had been there before. He wondered for a moment if Jessica had gotten to the Goblin, but he pushed the thought aside as he spoke.

"I understand you may be reluctant to trust these new freeholders of our Kingdom, but we have little choice in the matter." Matt shook his head. "We must strike at our enemies now, before they prepare traps and fortifications to turn us aside. If we wait too long, we will lose our chance. The longer the delay, the more likely we will have to face them on our own lands, rather than theirs."

Torth rose again, beating a few other noblemen to the chance. His voice was as cool and respectful as it had always been. "Sire. I understand that many of our more experienced banners were left in the Copper Hills, where they could watch for further attacks by the Alliance."

Matt nodded. "That is correct, yes."

The Imp tilted his head to one side. "Could we not send the Mage-Errants there instead? That way, they could still serve as a defense against the Alliance, while the banners there could be used against the Lion's Roar. In the meantime, we can further build up our numbers, and more noble banners could be sent to guard you on your journey south."

He hated it. Part of why he hated it, of course, was because it was an entirely reasonable, logical idea. Of course, Matt also didn't like the delay it would cause. While the banners marched, he'd be caught in Redspire for nearly ten full days. Ten days while the Alliance could plot and gather more troops and prepare themselves for his assault. Those ten days could be the difference between success and failure in a campaign.

Yet at the same time, could the Alliance really recover from the blows he'd dealt them so quickly? Ten days wasn't going to be enough time for the Greymarches to recover from the devastation of their capital. It likely wouldn't even be enough for the civil war there to grind to a halt. The coup in the Onyx Clans' homeland still wasn't quite over, and even if it was, the Order of Ravens still had some kind of mutiny continuing in their territory.

As he mulled the idea over, another of the Red Moon Orcs rose. This time, an expectant silence filled the Council as the man stepped forward. He made a striking figure; the Orc wore a military style of dress that echoed Matt's own, though it was colored in the red and brown of his Clan. Scars covered his face, and at some point, he'd lost an eye, though it apparently hadn't kept him from keeping himself in a fighting trim that would have rivaled any member of the Bloodsworn.

When the Orc spoke, his voice was a bass growl that echoed through the room. "King Matthew, a banner of Bloodsworn already rests in this city. Allow me the chance to go and collect more from Heartlight, as well as banners of Red Guard. I am certain that between the reinforcements from the Copper Hills, and the contributions of my fellow nobles, we will have no need for these… newcomers to strike at our enemies."

One of the Frost Elf noblewomen snorted to herself. "Your confidence is overwhelming as usual, Lord Rordine. I had wondered why you returned to Redspire, after so long an absence. Are you truly so excited to return to the battlefield?"

Rordine frowned at her. "The honor of defending our nation will rest with the nobility, as it always should. Would you have our monarch ride to war commanding only Low Folk?"

She flushed, and a Blackleaf Goblin stood. "Our Clan can send troops as well. If there are others that are not so fortunate."

The Frost Elf gave her compatriot a scathing glare. "As can we. I only question the need to bring one of our most venerable commanders out of his well-earned retirement."

"Surely you would not deny an old soldier the chance for glory?" Rordine spread his arms. "Let our noble hearts take courage in the defense of our Kingdom. The Low Folk can set themselves in defense and wait for our triumphant return." The Orc paused, his single eye turning to Matt. "Perhaps I can go and command the forces myself, to give you time for rest, King Matthew."

Matt barely managed to keep his eyes from narrowing at the poisonous offer. He wasn't familiar with the man, but the idea of allowing an obviously ambitious person to take command of his soldiers and strike the final blows against the Alliance seemed unwise. "I will remain at the warfront, Lord Rordine, though I will welcome your support." The Orc nodded, his single eye showing a hint of frustration, and Matt smiled. "A wise man once said that a ruler's main occupation should be war, and that appears to be my lot. I worry only that the delay will cost us our chance."

A Hard Scythe Orc rose in response, her expression pleading. "Sire, surely this delay will be worth your time. The people of Redspire have missed you, and you can do far more with ten banners of noble troops than you could with six of untested strangers." She looked around, as if daring any of her companions to disagree with her. "I pledge that for every day of delay, we shall raise and send out another banner of our people to support you—and we will not fail your cause."

Stymied, Matt watched as half the rest of the chamber rose and seconded her pledge, until finally Lord Torth stood and spoke. "My liege, we wish only to support your cause in the best way we know how. Will you accept our offer?"

A tense silence filled the Council room, and Matt fought against his initial reaction. Part of him still chafed at the delay, but another part knew that this time, the Council wasn't attempting some kind of sabotage or infighting. Seeing them united in this way was worth almost a dozen banners on its own. Rejecting them now might deal a heavier blow than the Alliance ever could.

So instead, he rose and bowed his head. "I will honor your pledge. You have my trust, Councilors, and my gratitude."

A murmur of satisfaction and triumph went through the chamber, and Matt had to repress another burst of irritation. He settled back in his throne as the Council began to turn to the details of raising and organizing the banners. Now all he had to do was figure out how he was going to spend the next ten days.

"Yeah, they've gotten a little bit trickier, haven't they, my liege?"

Matt gave Melren a bitter look, and the former nobleman just grinned in response. They were sitting in one of the rooms of the New Arsenal, overlooking the courtyard where the Mage-Errants were training.

They looked impressive, even to Matt's now somewhat-jaded eyes. Each one of them carried a short sword and spear. A group of Orcs was leading them through a drill that looked vaguely like something the Orc Spears would do in training, though they lacked the Spears' heavy shields. Even without them, the whole group looked formidable, wearing slate grey brigandine armor and visored helmets.

"How are they progressing?"

Melren grinned. "Well. Very well." He gestured to the hundreds of Knights and Dwarves below. "Every single one of them already has one Source. Most of them have two."

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Matt frowned. He remembered his own struggles to build his first Sources. It had taken weeks. "How are they doing it so quickly?"

The Imp shrugged. "It's easy when you aren't going for the highest quality Foundations. They're only going to serve for two years, so we can't spend six months of that building Sources that can support a full four spells." He gave Matt a sidelong look. "I focused on building them Sources with enough strength for one or two spell frameworks at most. They don't have nearly the strength you do, and they'll all need to cooperate to do anything significant, but in groups, they'll be a threat that most won't be expecting."

Matt nodded slowly, watching them perform another series of lunges and thrusts. "Blasting Flower and Autumnal Crushing Force, right?"

"That's correct." Melren looked back over at the group and sighed. "The next Source was supposed to be from the Frost Elves, but I'll have to send some resources with them instead of teaching them directly. It's a shame, but at least Margrave Karve will find them useful."

For a moment, Matt stared at him. Then he put a hand over his eyes and leaned back. "I didn't realize… sending them out but keeping you here means they can't keep training on the spells, can they? Their progress will be slowed."

Melren grinned. "It will. Might grind to a halt, really." He waggled a finger at Matt in admonishment. "I told you they have gotten sneakier. They're getting used to managing you. Not a bad thing, sometimes, but they will win a few struggles here and there."

Trying not to feel sour, Matt lowered his hand. "At least they might get some combat experience. If the Alliance attacks, I mean." He shook his head. "I don't suppose I can order you to go with them."

The Imp raised an eyebrow. "Of course you can… though I'm sure they'll come up with some reason for me to stay. Not least of which is to keep your own personal magic progress steady. Have you managed to finish the first part of your next Foundation, sire?"

Matt winced. "Not quite." He looked back out at the Mage-Errants. "I would think that their training would be more important than mine. I'm just one man."

"And yet, most of our greatest victories have rested on your shoulders—and your magical skill." Melren leaned forward, his eyes intent. "I believe that before I go anywhere, I'll need to make sure you are well on your way. After all, how could I neglect you when you are practicing with Fire?"

Remembering the somewhat single-minded obsession the Imp had developed when they were at Bridgeton, Matt didn't exactly rejoice at Melren's sudden renewed focus. He needed decoys. "Are the other Humans practicing too? I'd think they would have taken at least some of your time."

Melren smiled as if he knew what Matt was doing. "The Maidens of Art and Books have both consulted with me, but it seems that the others have felt too busy." He shrugged. "Then again, they don't seem to expect to be here long. Perhaps they don't believe they will have enough time."

Matt sighed. "Hopefully they're right. We still haven't discovered a way home, and with Alerios gone…" He grimaced. "Perhaps you can look into that for me as well, Melren. I wouldn't want you to occupy all of your time, of course."

The Imp's smile grew a little more mischievous. "Of course, sire. Of course."

After negotiating a somewhat sane practice schedule with Melren, Matt dropped by to speak with Parufeth next. It had taken him a few minutes to flag down the man, but soon enough, the dirt-encrusted foreman had scurried out from one of the unfinished buildings to speak with him.

It had been good to speak with the Gnomish foreman. His work crews had nearly completed the first few buildings for the first two blocks, which meant that soon people would start to be able to move in and enjoy homes with plenty of space, internal plumbing, and the sturdiness that could see it through an earthquake. Parufeth had seemed proud of the building, though it probably wouldn't have stood out in any modern city back on Earth. Four stories tall, with a bottom section reserved for stores and workshops and the top floors dedicated to neat little apartments, he wondered if some of the former serfs would think they were reserved for nobility.

Either way, it had given Matt some hope that his plans were going forward without interruption or frustration in at least some areas. As long as he didn't run out of money soon, of course. It was a thought that weighed on him as he returned to his offices inside the palace.

As he approached his chambers, he saw a crowd of individuals waiting for him. The lifeguards had prevented them from entering, but that hadn't kept them from camping out in the antechamber. He tried not to sigh as he recognized them. Of all the people under his reign, why was it the Humans waiting to cause him trouble?

Jessica was the first one to speak. She crossed her arms in front of her and glared at him, one of her eyebrows twitching. "Well, if it isn't the conquering hero. Did you blow up any cities this time?"

She didn't see it, but the lifeguards shifted slightly at the tone in her voice. The woman was harmless—she had no magic, and no weapons training to speak of—but he wasn't surprised that the guards who had come with him to Greyhenge didn't take references to it lightly.

Of course, Jessica hadn't taken the initial news about the obliteration of an enemy capital city lightly, either. She'd been angrier than when he'd first met her, and since she'd been trying to kill him then…

Matt tried to be patient. She was a kidnapped woman outside of her own world. He tried to remind himself that if she grated on his already overtaxed nerves, he probably did the same to her. Probably. Being civil to her was the best option.

"I didn't, no. After all, you asked me not to so nicely last time."

Mostly civil, apparently.

Jessica's face went red with anger, but he looked past her to run his eyes over the others. Riley was missing, but the rest were all there. "Sorry, I've been a bit delayed with other things. I'm assuming that most of you have something for me?"

The majority of them nodded, and Jessica hesitated. He plowed on before she could try to regain momentum. "Then let's head inside. I probably need to sit down, and we can talk better outside of the hallway."

They nodded, and Matt walked past Jessica to lead them into his chambers. Rethferd opened the door for him. Matt nodded to him gratefully as he walked through.

Matt went straight to the desk and dropped his mace on it. The weapon hit the wood with a solid thunk and stayed in place while he circled around to grab his chair. As he did, the others filed in to take up their usual seats on the collection of couches and chairs that some helpful servants had arranged there. Jessica was the only exception; she stood halfway between the desk and the door, her eyes still blazing and her stance clearly ready for a fight.

So instead, Matt looked at Miguel, who was watching the scene with resignation. "Miguel, I spoke a little with Parufeth and he seems to have things going well. Is there anything you're concerned about?"

Miguel gave him a wry smirk as Jessica ground her teeth in frustration. "Not really. Ikpesh is starting to get ahead of schedule on the next museum wing, and I think at this rate we might be able to fit in some extra construction this year. At the very least, we aren't seeing any more delays."

Jordan, the supposed Master of Coin, spoke up next. "That's good, because we really need to start bringing in more funds. You have three, maybe four weeks before you run out completely."

Matt winced at the news. "Maybe less. The Council just announced that they're building another army for our campaign against the Knights."

Jessica finally managed to break in at this point, her voice an incredulous growl. "You seriously can't stop with the dreams of conquest? Not even when you're going bankrupt?"

He gave her a level look. "Not while they are trying to kill us all, no." She opened her mouth again, but he raised a hand. "Jessica, I understand you view things differently. You still aren't the one with the crown."

She still glared at him, but he turned back to Jordan. "How much more badly does that screw us, Jordan?"

The man was going through a pile of parchments, as if trying to tally things up in his head. "I'm… not sure. The Angru Declaration might mean that some of the nobles choose to pay soldiers to fight instead of demanding we pay them, so that might help. If they don't though…" He shook his head. "I'll give you a better estimate later."

"Thank you." Matt let out a quiet breath. "I appreciate the help on the finance front. You haven't had any ideas about how to improve things?"

Jordan shook his head. "Not without raising taxes severely, or stopping all our construction and recruiting projects, no. The Kingdom's income just doesn't seem to line up with what this all costs, and I don't know enough about government finance to figure out how it worked back home."

"Well, back home it's easy enough." Tanya made a dismissive gesture. "They just pretend the money's there and call it part of the national debt, right? Poof, free defense spending."

Jordan eyed her skeptically. "It's probably a little more complicated than that, and besides, we don't exactly have any banks to borrow money from. Nobody lends anyone anything here."

Tanya rolled her eyes. "Then just make one. It can't be that hard."

The business student set down his parchments and pinched his nose, as if Tanya had just physically punched him. "You can't just… it doesn't…"

Matt gave Jordan a sympathetic look and then turned back to Tanya. "I think what he's trying to say is that a bank doesn't work when it starts out already in debt, and it definitely doesn't work when nobody trusts anyone enough to keep their money safe."

She frowned. "They trust you to keep them safe. Why not their money?"

"I…" Matt looked back at Jordan. "I do tactics, not finance."

Jordan frowned. He picked up his parchments again. "She might be a little right. They may not understand the concept of a bank, but maybe…" A grin broke out on his face. "Give me a couple of days and I'll put something together."

It was rare to hear something optimistic from Jordan, so Matt just nodded. He looked over at Alicia, who'd been waiting quietly with her own parchment. "How are we doing health-wise? Any plagues I need to worry about?"

"Not here, no." Alicia shook her head. "There's some kind of magical dysentery running through the Sortenmoors and the Grim Hollows, though." She peered at her parchment for a moment before continuing. "It might just be the way everything broke down after the wars there, but I'd still like to try and track down the cause. You're headed in that direction, right? I was just going to request the chance to go on my own, but…"

Matt nodded. Plagues killed far, far more people in war than weapons did. "You can come with me, at least as far as Bridgeton. Anything you can do to help there, I'd appreciate it."

Then he turned to Tanya, who was smirking in a satisfied, cat-caught-the-bird kind of way. "Tanya?"

Her smile grew. "You're stuck in Redspire for the next little while, right? I heard they are trying to keep you here while your army gathers?"

He nodded. "That's true."

"Then you have no reason not to go to the museum, right?"

Something very close to pain tore through him. Matt scowled at the desk. "Tanya, I'm very busy trying—"

Tanya sat up, glaring at him a little. "You can spare an hour to come look at a few exhibits and appreciate a part of what you're trying to save. Not every day has to be a death march—and besides, you know as well as I do that nobody, not one single Imp, is going to want to come unless you show them it's okay."

Matt sucked in a deep breath and let it out slowly. "Fine. I'll go."

"Perfect! I'm sure you're going to love it." Tanya was grinning from ear to ear now. She hopped off the couch and started for the door. "I'll set it up for two days from now. I'll make sure the whole city knows about it!"

He tried not to sigh as she left. Miguel just shrugged at him, and stood as well. "I'll go make sure that she doesn't get a little too enthusiastic with the invites. If anything happens with the building projects, I'll let you know."

"Thanks, Miguel." Matt glanced at the others. "Jordan, Alicia, I think Jessica would like to have a discussion with me. Did you have anything else?"

Alicia shook her head. Jordan looked at Jessica and hesitated, before following suit. Matt gestured for them to leave with Miguel, and they both walked out, with Jordan glancing back as if he regretted it.

Jessica, for her part, seemed to have cooled off a little. She still had her arms crossed and was glaring at him, but without an audience, it was as if she'd lost a little of her fire. He waited until the door was solidly shut and gave it a little more time to make sure the others were out of earshot. The lifeguards on either side of the door glanced at each other; Mulwan casually mimed covering her ears in preparation.

Matt looked back at Jessica and then stood. He walked around the desk and leaned back against it, folding his arms to mirror her stance. They stared at each other in silence for a moment.

Then he smiled. "So. How is Riley doing?"

Jessica gave him an incredulous look. He gestured for her to speak, and she shook her head. "Riley's fine. She's just a little caught up with those religious types and the palace libraries. That and the magic teacher. She probably didn't even hear that you're back."

"The Speakers aren't doing anything to her?" Matt had been a little worried about the possibility. They lived in a world of magic, after all, and Riley didn't seem to be the most cautious or suspicious person he'd ever met.

She tilted her head to one side. "You mean like brainwashing her to worship them? Convincing a kingdom to murder for them? No, not that I've seen."

Matt snorted. "Glad to hear it. Please keep an eye on her if I end up leaving again."

"You don't need to ask me that." Jessica's eyes narrowed. "I've been looking after them, all of them, for longer than they've known you."

He met her glare without blinking. "I know."

"I don't need some bloody-handed tyrant telling me to take care of people."

Matt raised an eyebrow. "Okay."

She took a step forward. "You're a vicious warmonger and a dictator who has killed thousands to hold on to his power. No matter what you do in the future, you are always going to carry the stain of the atrocities you've already committed. If it's the last thing I do, I'm going to make sure that this place becomes a better place without you."

He watched her for another moment, quietly shifting a hand to tell the lifeguards to return to their posts. Then he nodded. "Good."

Jessica blinked, and Matt smiled. "What? Did you expect me to be unhappy?" He shook his head. "Jessica, if I was even half the bloody-handed tyrant you think I am, you know I wouldn't debate these things with you, right? I'd barely have to say anything. You'd just be dead. I don't think you'd even make it out of this room."

Her expression went from angry and defiant to pale and stricken, but before she could respond, Matt made a dismissive gesture. "The fact is, I want the Kingdom to be able to keep existing on its own, whether or not I'm around to keep it going. Otherwise, the first time an assassin gets lucky, or some battle goes badly, or I just drop dead from the stress, it's all going to go back to the way it was. It's almost happened too many times. Hell, they were this close to getting me in Greyhenge."

He looked away for a moment, seeing the horror behind his eyes again. It was hard to repress the shudder. "So keep working with them and propping them up. Just do me a favor." Matt looked back at her. "Make sure they can stand on their own two feet before you start trying to undermine me, because right now, I'm the only thing standing between them and another real despot—and the next one won't be nearly as patient as I am."

They stared at each other for a long moment. Then he turned to go back to his chair, keeping his voice casual as he did. "Were you behind the Council approving the ceasefire terms without me?"

When he reached the chair without her answer, he looked up. She was watching him warily, now. Her head turned a little as she glanced back at the lifeguards behind her.

Then she turned to face him again and raised her chin. "Yes. Voice Cholia asked my advice, and I told her to encourage the others."

Matt nodded and sat. "Well done. The Council needs to start getting into the habit of making its own decisions when it comes to diplomacy. Otherwise, they'll spend far too much time paralyzed while I am dealing with other things."

"Like killing people." There was bitterness as well as anger in her voice now.

He gave her a half-smile. "Like war, yes." Matt let the smile fade and kept his voice even as he continued. "Now, aside from that, are there other things that my people are worried about? Are they still unhappy about the construction?"

She spent a long moment looking at him, her reluctance plain on her face. "No. Some of them aren't happy about it, but they are getting interested in the new housing. As long as that's open soon, they won't complain. They are still worried about your lack of a Consort, and about the possibility for more taxes. We can't do more of that for the freeholders at least. They don't have enough to sacrifice more without going hungry."

Matt frowned. He tapped the desk with a finger as he thought. "That's what I expected. So they know about the treasury?"

"And the public granaries. Most of them depend on the food from those to stay alive during the winter. Having them empty will mean they start rioting." Something about her expression suggested she wouldn't be disappointed about that fact.

"Then hopefully the harvest will be strong and the wars will finally end." Matt nodded. "Thank you, Jessica. Let me know if you hear anything else."

She glared at him, but there was a hint of resentment rather than pure condemnation this time. Then she spun and stalked out of the room, every step shouting the fact that she wanted to brain him with his own mace. He waited until she shut the door.

Then he sighed and looked over at the lifeguards. "Well, at least she's honest." Mulwan snorted to herself, and Rethferd rolled his eyes. Matt grinned and then turned to the parchment he had on the desk. There were the latest reports from Grufen about what the scouts were seeing in the Knights' territory. He might be trapped in Redspire for now, but when he finally got to the enemy again, he wasn't going to let them surprise him.

Not now, not ever again.

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