V2Ch79-Vote Yes!
“In a matter of weeks, we must capture Fort Hadrian,” Tybalt explained. “Vidalia’s visions coupled with our strategic imperatives make it clear this is an absolute necessity. Therefore, I intend to take every fighter who can be gathered with me when I leave tomorrow.”
Two days had passed, during which Tybalt had prepared the ibexmen and any other beastfolk who showed up to his combat training; allowed Victoria to be his proxy with the other priests, training them and shaping their priorities - she was the only one besides Tybalt who Lord Mudo had gifted with a class, which made it easier for the others to accept her authority over them; and spread the word up and down the mountains of what he intended to do the next day, including giving the catfolk their own instructions.
The only other priorities had been preparing his undead and spreading his pestilence. Instead of raising more bird and mouse spies, Tybalt had infected them with his modified undeath plague - the one that spared mothers and children - and cajoled Dero into teleporting him to infect the handful of unaffected Salt Waste towns, including the one that supplied Fort Hadrian.
And now Tybalt sat before the fox tribe’s Council of Elders. All of them, plus Tybalt, Vidalia, Victoria, Andric, and Tatiana, were gathered in a circle in Chief Mihalic’s hut.
It was imperative that they move out to attack the humans’ desert towns soon, then move on to the only fortification in the region. That was the story Tybalt was selling, at least.
Really, what made it imperative to move quickly against the humans was that Tybalt’s pestilence was spreading. Tybalt had gained a few levels in pestilence mage in his sleep over the last couple of days, which meant that his sickness was spreading.
The beastfolk should still have weeks, maybe a couple of months, before the Army would come looking for their lost squad - if Vidalia’s visions were still reliable in that respect.
But if the beastfolk did not move out soon, several of the settlements might be reduced to plague-stricken skeletons of their former selves. That wouldn’t be good for their leveling, which was Tybalt’s top priority along with actually taking Fort Hadrian.
He had drawn a rough map of the continent on parchment Vidalia had procured for him that morning, and now he placed nine stones in the Northwest corner of that map, where the Salt Waste was. Each stone marked a human settlement around the Salt Waste that Tybalt had seeded with disease.
“This is Grain, here,” he said, pointing at the smallest pebble. “This town basically only exists to trade with the salt miners, and they’d start to get a bit worried if they didn’t hear from them soon anyway.” It was one of only two targets that Tybalt hadn’t bothered to try attacking with his pestilence yet, mainly because the town was small and disproportionately composed of ladies of the night. It should make a soft target, and one the beastfolk might take without necessarily killing everyone who lived there.
“Here is Dun…” He listed off each town, finishing, “And this is Sal. It’s the town closest to Fort Hadrian. Once we make it there, it’s more or less impossible to take it without the Army finding out what we’re up to.”
“You said there is a squad like your old one garrisoned there?” Elder Michael asked
“Like my own, but slightly larger… and a bit more experienced, maybe. These men are stationed at the border of the Salt Waste year round, so they make whatever reputations they have by killing bandits, monsters… and beastfolk.”
“A whole fortress just for us,” Elder Vladmir said with something between bitterness and pride.
Tybalt decided not to mention that it had been constructed back when the Kingdom was fighting the elves who had once occupied this land.
“Well, Lord Necromancer, we certainly wish you good fortune in your mission,” said the Eldest, smiling.
“Let’s cut to the chase,” said Chief Mihalic bluntly. “I understand that the other tribes have already given you warmaking powers, Lord Necromancer. You received the same from us, to be wielded jointly with Andric, not long ago. I know my son is on the same page as you about waging this war. All of which is why you did not consult us before you began making your arrangements. Well and good. But what is this meeting truly about?”
A couple of Elders looked askance at the Chief’s slightly rude phrasing, but the silence broke almost immediately.
“Of course he began making arrangements for this planned offensive before the meeting,” noted Elder Milena with a shrug. “Lord Necromancer needed to prepare his troops.”
“Yes, and he doesn’t need our permission to do it,” said Elder Michael. “Since he’s already a war chief. So, as Mihalic says, what is this meeting for?”
“It’s true that I have another reason for calling this meeting,” Tybalt said. “I wish to conquer and hold land in the name of your people, first the Salt Waste… but ultimately much more. The goal is to defeat the Kingdom and establish our faith as the dominant one in this nation. We will not forbid worship of other gods, but the authorities will no longer punish those who follow Lord Mudo.”
There were little murmurs of agreement, from Elders Cyril and Sonia.
Tybalt continued, “To accomplish these wonders and sustain them, I will need more formal authority. Governing authority. I propose that this Council acknowledge me as the Beastking.”
Elder Michael scoffed. “Do you suppose that joining us and intermarrying is enough to make you a good king?”
“We are quite pleased to govern ourselves, Lord Necromancer,” said Elder Vladmir much more mildly.
“How well is that going for you?” Tybalt asked. “When you needed support to defend yourselves from the Kingdom, how did the other Councils respond?”
Elder Elswyth snorted derisively. “With weakness. Vacillation. Inaction.”
“Exactly,” said Elder Sybil. “It is… not quite going well.”
“Still, we must be careful in making such a choice,” said Elder Cyril, stroking his chin and furrowing his brow. “We usually avoid making radical moves. Perhaps if there was some sign- ”
“I was chosen by your god to fight his battles, topple his enemies, and establish his worldly dominion once again,” Tybalt cut in. “When will there be signs enough to move you?”
He knew Elder Cyril was one of the most religious men on the Council, and sure enough, the old man looked genuinely torn at Tybalt’s words.
“Well, at least you’re of our tribe…” mused Elder Michael.
“We would be moving from using our own judgment to subsuming it to yours,” said Elder Sonia. “You seem to be a good man, but you’re also one we hardly know.”
Yet you still gave me the authority to make war on your behalf, the necromancer thought.
“Are you truly wise enough to be king?” said Elder Vladmir. “I mean no offense, but… you are, what, twenty? Twenty-three or twenty-four at most?”
Tybalt shrugged. “Respectfully, Elder, what matters most in deciding things is not so much making the wisest decisions each time. I’m fallible and young, it’s true. I’ll make some mistakes. But you will be able to counsel me. What truly matters is making an actual decision and being capable of acting on it. That’s what a king gives you. That’s why, around the continent, kingdoms have grown strong, conquered their neighbors, and endured, while the few republics I’ve ever heard of were small, short-lived, wracked by upheaval. Each individual on his own is weak. Each Council on its own is weak, even though the beastfolk together would be strong.
“Because you were never meant to be governing authorities. You were meant to be an advisory body. That’s the history of the Councils. That’s the design of the Councils. To deal with today’s problems, there should be one great Council for all of the tribes, united around one leader who can take decisive actions. Frankly, the only virtue of your current system is that it has rendered your people so vulnerable that it was inevitable they would choose to return to monarchy. The alternative is… bleak for survival prospects. You are all valuable to me - as advisors, who have knowledge I don’t. But you need a real leader, and I am the logical option who all four tribes could accept.”
His words had produced a few nods, some signs of agreement, from a few people, but just as many frowns, especially when he emphasized how weak the Councils were. Tybalt could feel it in the air; this wasn’t enough. He needed something more to push the fox tribe over the finish line.
Frustrating.
Before he could come up with something that he hadn’t scripted in advance, Elder Michael spoke up again.
“Setting aside the flowery arguments and debate, there is a war to fight. We are wasting Lord Necromancer’s time - the time of both war chiefs - if we do not intend to reach a decision at the conclusion of all this. How many of us actually want to vote on Lord Necromancer’s proposal today… as opposed to simply waiting to see what happens in his campaign against the humans?”
“Is that a proposal for a vote?” asked Eldest Isak.
“A vote on whether to have a vote,” Elder Michael replied, smirking.
“Truly, the depth of our administrative procedures know no bounds,” muttered Elder Sybil.
“All right, who wants us to have a final vote to determine whether we acknowledge Lord Necromancer as the new Beastking?” asked the Eldest.
Tybalt clenched his fist at his side. He already knew how this vote was going to go, but his instincts were telling him not to do anything to interrupt the procedure. It would only make him look impulsive.
A soft hand grabbed his wrist just above where he’d curled his fingers into a fist, and Tybalt instantly relaxed. He turned his head to see Vidalia, smiling softly at him.
“Don’t worry,” she mouthed. “Give it time.” Or perhaps the second part was “All in time.” It was hard to read lips accurately in the relatively dim lighting.
He turned and faced forward and saw that three had their hands raised for a vote to vote on the underlying proposal: Elders Cyril, Sybil, and Elswyth.
“Against?” said Eldest Isak.
For that, Elders Vladmir, Michael, Milena, and Sonia all raised their hands. Eldest Isak and Chief Mihalic quietly abstained.
“Then it’s decided, we table this discussion for another day,” said the Eldest.
“We wish you luck in your campaigning, Lord Necromancer,” said the Chief. “You and my son.”
“I thank the Council for its time,” Tybalt said, smiling.
“This meeting is adjourned,” said Eldest Isak.
Everyone in the hut except the Chief began quietly exiting.
Tybalt moved through the opening, closely followed by Victoria, Vidalia, and Andric. But it was the Eldest who grabbed the necromancer, panting quietly as he caught up to him. The old man was limping along with his cane - Tybalt had yet to replace the leg he’d lost in the rockslide - and the necromancer put an arm around him to hold him up.
“I’m sorry it went that way, Lord Tybalt,” said the Eldest as he and Tybalt moved off a little ways to speak alone - not out of sight of the others, but hopefully out of hearing.
“It will all work out in the end,” the necromancer replied, projecting a serenity he did not quite feel.
“Well, let me work on them a bit- ”
“I appreciate it, but I don’t expect much,” Tybalt interrupted. “One or more of the people in that room were part of the plot to kill us.”
“Yes,” said Eldest Isak, nodding reluctantly. “Yes, I… believe you.” He let out a sigh, his shoulders slumping. “To kill us, not even considering the children who were innocent bystanders…”
Some people would want to kill them because they’re orphans, Tybalt thought. To reduce the burden of feeding them for everyone else. Especially if you assume you won’t have undead labor anymore. But he didn’t bother mentioning that dark thought.
“Um, what are Vidalia and Victoria doing?” asked the Eldest suddenly, gesturing behind Tybalt. “Andric seems… distraught.”
“Telling him about our engagement,” Tybalt said. “Speaking of which, I’ll announce it today, while we’re here. I’m told your tribe has a pretty special wedding ceremony, where the whole community gathers together. I’m hoping we can prepare to hold the wedding shortly after the attacks succeed.”
“This is exciting news,” said the Eldest, then frowned slightly. “But poor Andric…”
“Yeah,” Tybalt said. “I know it won’t be easy on him. Better to deal with this now than later, though.”
Then he looked and noticed another observer, also frowning at the look on Andric’s face.
Tybalt excused himself and approached.