King Castor spun his crown of black iron on his forefinger as he listened to his generals and advisors speak. There had been a time when he'd had to pretend at propriety back when there was still a nobility to deal with, but ever since he'd dismantled the majority of it things had changed. He no longer had to keep himself still, never raise his voice, or make sure his every action radiated strength. Now his strength wasn't questioned and there were no more threats to the crown he casually launched into the air to catch on the opposite finger and keep spinning. Even without the symbol of his office on his head, it was clear that he was royalty. The dark red doublet covered in intricate patterns of a lighter red in silk that shone in the candlelight made that clear enough. The table he sat at was carved from dark wood and had maps, notes, and goblets all across it. The chairs were mostly utilitarian hunks of wood, though a number of the older officers had cushions they'd had their secretaries bring for them.

"-assault on the Cantalian forces and mercenaries were largely successful. Most high priority targets were removed, their forces were scattered, and we've been able to secure the main road. Losses were slightly heavier than anticipated, but with fresh recruits from the newly conquered territories joining soon that should be mitigated."

Castor stopped spinning his crown and gently placed it back onto his head of thick black hair, his pale gray eyes turning to General Martins who went silent when he realized the king's attention was on him.

"You said most high priority targets were removed. Which ones were missed?"

"The leaders of one of the mercenary companies, Gemini, as well as one of their healers. We also weren't able to capture or kill any of the Cantalian apothecaries."

"And the higher than anticipated losses? Do we have an explanation?"

"The Cantalians were able to react and their poisons took a toll. The Gemini targets also managed to rout our forces."

"Did the mages not manage to cast?"

"No… they were routed after the mages loosed it. They said… they said it was the healer on his own. His sword or mace was gold and he managed to kill more than a dozen of them. There are a number of inconsistencies with their stories. We're having our own apothecaries check to see if they weren't impacted by some kind of hallucinogen. We knew the healer had some kind of offensive blessing, that's one of the reasons he was targeted, but the degree of damage noted in their reporting, and the fact that they said he was able to beat them even with a heavy title dispatch to them means it warrants further investigation."

The King regarded him silently for a moment. "Continue."

The General nodded, and began speaking again, this time about plans for the new troops. They'd managed to conquer Vyndar and Untan without doing much damage to their infrastructure and before they could too quickly raise their peasant military to readiness. With their standing army being mostly knight and nobility they'd expected there to be prisoners and truces and other such things. They had been fools. Now their peasants were no longer serfs and were allowed their own parcels of land to work without having to provide all their profits to their local lords. They'd still pay taxes of course, but the burden was much less on them without their nobility's excesses. Loyalty was quite cheap all things considered.

The King stood up and walked to the edges of his tent to pour himself more water. There had once been a servant for that, but he didn't like not having an excuse to stand and stretch his legs in these long meetings so he'd dismissed them. The officers kept talking; they knew he was still listening.

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Cantalia would be much harder to truly subjugate. Their average citizen had a lot more freedom and a higher quality of life. On top of that it was going to be a terrible slog to get through it and even after the fighting was over there would likely be a guerilla force that would continuously harass them from the swamps. He would've preferred to move on Vagante first, but unfortunately that didn't work on the timeline he had. He had to start his campaign in Swandia before they arrived. The deal had been that he'd keep all the territory his country had as long as he acted as their ally when they entered this world. Swandia was a jewel of mineral resources and territory, not to mention titles.

He didn't like the deal they had. Sure their creatures had already acted in Burndan's interest. Their increased presence in southern Swandia would prove invaluable once he started his campaign there, but he didn't trust them. Still, his mother believed it was the best way to save as much of the Humelands as possible, and more importantly to her, cement their power. He had argued against it many times, but… his fingers went to the mark on the back of his neck, hidden by his long hair and collar. Maybe he'd find something that could rid him of this particular method of control, then maybe he could turn this army in a different direction.

He drank his full cup of water and refilled it. His mother had been quite attached to the idea that he be the perfect king to the point of giving him no choice, and yet even now that he wore the crown she didn't trust his judgement. It wasn't that she was a fool, quite the opposite, but she was blinded by cultural norms that didn't bind him. Even his plan to empower their troops with titles had taken months of debate and pain. It had seemed so strange to him that titles were treated the way they were here. They weren't something to be hoarded; they were a tool to be utilized and once you did away with enough of the nobility in a country you had a lot to work with. That wasn't to mention how many he kept for himself. He had the strength of three kings now. If he wanted to, he could kill everyone in the tent with him in an instant. That would be a foolish waste of resources, but he did consider it for a moment. After all, these meetings could really drag on sometimes.

He chuckled to himself as he returned to the table. No one questioned his humor. These were men he'd worked with for two simultaneous campaigns. A few of them had even been part of the purges when he'd first come to power. That had been an exciting time. His father's death had given him so many excuses to rid himself of 'usurpers'.

The meeting came to a conclusion with a number of orders to be followed and questions to be followed up on. Castor himself didn't have much input, as every decision they made was already to his liking, so he had no reason to contribute. As they were leaving, he approached General Martins's secretary.

"Lieutenant Sebas, how's the family?"

"They're doing well my king. My son has apparently been spending much of his time on the rocking horse you sent us."

"Are you just saying that to curry favor with me?"

The man smiled. "No sir."

"Well, either way it worked."

"May I ask how the Prince and Princess are doing, my lord?"

"They are straining under the weight of the dowager queen's lessons. Luckily their mother makes sure they get some time outside every once in a while."

Sebas chuckled.

"Alright, I'll let you go. I know Martins will want to go through those notes a half dozen times before morning."

"Thank you sir," said the man as he walked out of the tent.

Left alone King Castor began to walk slowly around the meeting table. He'd made it round, borrowing imagery from stories of knights in his own world. He'd had to stop short of calling his sword excalibur though he'd considered it. He couldn't risk anyone finding out he was a taker. It was enough of a risk that his queen knew and telling her had earned him nearly a full hour of soul-rending pain courtesy of his so-called mother.

He pushed out of the meeting tent and made his way to his personal one. He gave encouraging nods to the rank-and-file he passed, and when he entered his tent he carefully placed his crown on a soft pillow on his desk before casting a one-way muffle enchantment. He didn't allow himself too many comforts of the old world, but there were some things he needed to do to feel sane. He grabbed a piece of wood he'd carved into a microphone, and added an additional magical barrier at the tent's entrance flap. When he was certain that he wouldn't be disturbed without forewarning he began to hum a tune, then began to sing.

END of Book 2

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