General asked.
“The war generates lucrative and various businesses. Many would benefit. Especially if they are prepared for it,” the old man mused.
“True. But a scenario of civil war is very chaotic. Other businesses would suffer. At least until the situation wasn't resolved with a segregation of the country.”
“I agree, but there is another scenario that we must consider.”
The general pondered for a moment and suddenly understood.
“A war with the orcs!” he exclaimed.
“Exactly,” the old man said.
“That would bring some of the benefits of the war, but would keep the country united. In addition, the Marks have always been more belligerent against the orcs, for obvious reasons. Some of the marquis are very young and probably just conceive the easy and romantic side of the war, probably because they have never experienced one.”
“And then there's the Army,” the old man added.
“Some would try to seize the excuse of a large-scale campaign to demote me into the background,” the general understood. “That son of a bitch Vargarr must be involved in this.”
The old man didn't answer. He pulled back and sat on a bench under the shade of a namal; a majestic tree. The general approached him, sat down beside him and lowered his voice.
“What can we do? What have you thought?”
“There is an option we can try. It is very risky, but now I see no other solution. In addition we have little time, we should start several preparations.”
“What do you need me to do?” the General asked.
“Nothing.”
“I don't understand,” Bellish said, surprised.
“You must stick to your agenda and activities. If you change anything, our enemies might perceive that you know something of what they are up to. We'd lose our only advantage; an advantage that is worth very little now, unless we can understand in more detail how and when they might act.”
“You're right. Meanwhile, I'll ask two of the men of my utmost confidence to be vigilant. We should meet again soon,” the general requested.
“I know where to find you. We'll talk.”
When the general took notice, he was sitting alone in that bench in the shade. The feeling of uneasiness he had felt was gone. But it had been replaced by a deep concern, because the situation could be mortally dangerous. His enemies were right about something. He was too old for certain things.
CHAPTER 5: THE MANSION ON THE HILL
It was a cold, gray afternoon in Ekunon. Although it was not raining, the sky was overcast over the big city. Thost dismounted from his horse and tied the reins to the support at the entrance of the building. After that, he went inside. It was the building of the departmental delegation of Administrative Services of the Central Bor County. Thost had to submit some documents and pay the taxes for the quarter.
Upon reaching the main hall, he saw that there were quite a few people and only two county officials to assist them. He snorted resigned; he'd have to spend the rest of the afternoon there. He asked who the last person was. A woman who had a live chicken seized by its legs raised her hand. His turn was next.
There were no seats left so he had to remain standing in a corner. It was a room about twenty steps long with three huge windows overlooking the street. Horsemen and pedestrians were passing incessantly in the hustle of the afternoon. Thost stopped to watch the street scene for a while. No sound could be heard through the thick panes.
A very old man rose from his chair in the waiting area, to go sit at the table in front of the first officer. The man who preceded him had finished making his arrangements and was leaving. Thost took the opportunity to sit in the place that the old man had vacated. To his left was a boy no older than eighteen, with red hair and many freckles. He wore pants with suspenders that were clearly too short, and that were pretty worn out from use. To his right was a very serious lady in her fifties,
“The war generates lucrative and various businesses. Many would benefit. Especially if they are prepared for it,” the old man mused.
“True. But a scenario of civil war is very chaotic. Other businesses would suffer. At least until the situation wasn't resolved with a segregation of the country.”
“I agree, but there is another scenario that we must consider.”
The general pondered for a moment and suddenly understood.
“A war with the orcs!” he exclaimed.
“Exactly,” the old man said.
“That would bring some of the benefits of the war, but would keep the country united. In addition, the Marks have always been more belligerent against the orcs, for obvious reasons. Some of the marquis are very young and probably just conceive the easy and romantic side of the war, probably because they have never experienced one.”
“And then there's the Army,” the old man added.
“Some would try to seize the excuse of a large-scale campaign to demote me into the background,” the general understood. “That son of a bitch Vargarr must be involved in this.”
The old man didn't answer. He pulled back and sat on a bench under the shade of a namal; a majestic tree. The general approached him, sat down beside him and lowered his voice.
“What can we do? What have you thought?”
“There is an option we can try. It is very risky, but now I see no other solution. In addition we have little time, we should start several preparations.”
“What do you need me to do?” the General asked.
“Nothing.”
“I don't understand,” Bellish said, surprised.
“You must stick to your agenda and activities. If you change anything, our enemies might perceive that you know something of what they are up to. We'd lose our only advantage; an advantage that is worth very little now, unless we can understand in more detail how and when they might act.”
“You're right. Meanwhile, I'll ask two of the men of my utmost confidence to be vigilant. We should meet again soon,” the general requested.
“I know where to find you. We'll talk.”
When the general took notice, he was sitting alone in that bench in the shade. The feeling of uneasiness he had felt was gone. But it had been replaced by a deep concern, because the situation could be mortally dangerous. His enemies were right about something. He was too old for certain things.
CHAPTER 5: THE MANSION ON THE HILL
It was a cold, gray afternoon in Ekunon. Although it was not raining, the sky was overcast over the big city. Thost dismounted from his horse and tied the reins to the support at the entrance of the building. After that, he went inside. It was the building of the departmental delegation of Administrative Services of the Central Bor County. Thost had to submit some documents and pay the taxes for the quarter.
Upon reaching the main hall, he saw that there were quite a few people and only two county officials to assist them. He snorted resigned; he'd have to spend the rest of the afternoon there. He asked who the last person was. A woman who had a live chicken seized by its legs raised her hand. His turn was next.
There were no seats left so he had to remain standing in a corner. It was a room about twenty steps long with three huge windows overlooking the street. Horsemen and pedestrians were passing incessantly in the hustle of the afternoon. Thost stopped to watch the street scene for a while. No sound could be heard through the thick panes.
A very old man rose from his chair in the waiting area, to go sit at the table in front of the first officer. The man who preceded him had finished making his arrangements and was leaving. Thost took the opportunity to sit in the place that the old man had vacated. To his left was a boy no older than eighteen, with red hair and many freckles. He wore pants with suspenders that were clearly too short, and that were pretty worn out from use. To his right was a very serious lady in her fifties,
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