DW01 Dragonspawn by Mark Acres

visage grew suddenly serious; his foggy green eyes suddenly bright.
    “We raided Shallowford this morning. Our young lord prince tested the cruelty of the twelve and the hundred. I believe he was pleased with the results,” the wizard said.
    “Good!” Culdus leapt to his feet, suddenly enthusiastic. “Were there any signs of pity? Any displays of mercy?”
    “None.”
    “All were slaughtered without distinction?”
    “All save one whom our lord prince branded and sent to Dunsford as a sign.”
    “Good! There is no place for pity in an officer of the kind of army we will lead.”
    “True, good Baron,” Valdaimon agreed. Even the old mage was caught up in the joy of the moment.
    “Then we have them—the twelve commanders for our twelve legions. And a hundred or more experienced men-at-arms with innocent blood on their hands. They will make fine leaders of hundreds.”
    “It is as you say,” Valdaimon agreed.
    “Then we should strike now! Any delay gives Dunsford time to raise allies, prepare defenses....”
    “Do not concern yourself, Baron,” Valdaimon reassured the Black Prince’s chief military advisor. “Even as we speak a great bridge is being built at Shallowford. On the third morning hence, the young lord shall give the order and our legions will march.”
    Culdus began pacing in his excitement. “That will be a grand day,” he began. “Never has the world seen an army such as the one I have trained. Never have such tactics been perfected. Never before has—”
    “Never before has the world seen such troops as I, too, shall supply,” Valdaimon interrupted.
    Culdus wheeled and stared at the wizard. “Keep those cursed things of yours under control, wizard. I trust them even less than I trust you, and you know well that is not much. And I do know how to kill them .”
    Valdaimon nodded in mock obedience. “As you command, great leader. But in all things, I must obey the prince, as must you.”
    Culdus snorted again. Little did Valdaimon know that once his usefulness had ended, his prince would turn Culdus loose on the old reprobate. Culdus might not know how to kill Valdaimon, but he would certainly enjoy the many experiments it would take to find out.

    Prince Ruprecht of Heilesheim, commonly dubbed the Black Prince, drained his third mug of hot spiced wine, wiped the goose grease from his fingers on his scraggly attempt at a black beard, and belched. It had been an excellent day, capped by an excellent dinner and excellent entertainment. In one day he had sacked a village, gotten construction underway on the bridge over which his armies would pass on their route to conquest, executed prisoners by a variety of ingenious means taught him by Valdaimon, tortured the old elf kept in the deep dungeon for just that purpose, lopped the head and hands off the emissary sent by Count Dunsford with a protest note and sent them back to the count in a plain cloth bag, and eaten his fill of the best food available anywhere in the world. The young lord felt happy and heady. Now it was time to attend with enthusiasm to serious business.
    The Black Prince swept his legs across the table, sending platters and goblets flying. “Clear this away!” he bellowed at the cowering servants. “And fetch me Valdaimon and Culdus. Then leave us alone.”
    The tall, pale, thin youth rose and went to the high window at the end of the long dining hall while servants scuttled and scurried to carry out his bidding. He gazed through the dusk haze at the mighty River Rigel far below, flowing in its eternal course westward toward the Great Ocean Sea. Barges still plied the waters, those laden with grain from the fertile lands to the north making for the great port of Hamblen, which this very palace-fortress protected, those laden with bolts of cloth, furs, precious woods, and finely handmade goods and devices of every sort beginning their journey east and north to those same lands, which bought most of their goods from