The Humble Life of a Skill Trainer

The King rose from his padded seat, his guards in fine plate flanking him as he walked. The gathered nobles’ eyes were drawn to his performance, his movements careful and measured as he stepped down the wooden stand and to the arena itself. Stopping at the edge of the pit filled with white sand, he faced Alexis and dramatically gave a martial salute. Despite his acting - and some of it was undoubtedly an act for the nobles - I couldn’t help but feel that he had been impressed by Alexis’s combat prowess.

The martial salute was a sign of respect from one combatant to another. Still, it was a salute that I was noticeably not giving even while most nobles did. I had no interest in being targeted for duels or demonstrating my combat capabilities. Such a salute would imply my own martial Skill and my confidence at combat and use that as an excuse. Some might even consider my lack of salute as a sign of cracks forming between Alexis and me, and I had no interest in disabusing them of that idea. It was curious who mirrored the salute seriously, those who did so with a sneer, and those who held a careful neutral mask. None stood out to me specifically. But it had not broken down along Royalist vs. Mage-aligned Nobles - if I was reading the gold and silver trimmed clothing as a sign of Royalist alignment correctly.

“Alexis Verstrom has prevailed against Blood-of-the-Mountain-Cat and proven her claims of Martial Skill and right as heir to her father, Baron Anthony Morick Verstrom. She has also demonstrated to me that she is worthy of being the new Baron of Mard. The new Barony shall be renamed once she has removed Mard,” he said with a smile as he reiterated the problem that went with the prize.

Turning from the nobles, the King locked eyes with Ashen-Arm-of-the-Mountain and Blood-of-the-Snowfed-Spring, his voice rising again to hold everyone locked into his words.

“In addition, the Ambassador to the Northmen, Blood-of-the-Snowfed-Spring, has brought news that the North has been suffering under a regrettable bit of smuggling. A group, stationed in my kingdom, has been harvesting rare herbs from the North. There are even rumors that these curs have been supported by a noble with financial difficulties!” the King said. At his last words, he exaggerated a look of surprise and dismay as if he wasn’t directly insulting the Duke to his gathered guests in his own garden.

“I have offered them military support, in defense of the treaty, but they assured me that they would be able to defend their lands. There had been some confusion over if this group was sanctioned by the kingdom.”

Now the King’s jovial act dropped, and his frown was emphasized by his guards fingering their sword hilts as they stared into the crowd.

Nearly snarling at the crowd before his eyes locked on the Duke, the King continued, “These acts are not sanctioned by the kingdom. Any that assist in the circumventing of kingdom law - my law - shall be executed.”

This sudden change in the King’s manner was surprising, and frankly, a bit terrifying. The King had the presumptive legal right but lacked the finances and the nobles’ support or military might, to back such heavy-handed actions. The Baron was the primary financial support of the King. Still, his coin was but a drop in the bucket compared to the military and economic might of the Mages and the Guild-aligned nobles. These actions were tantamount to a declaration of suicide!

I wasn’t the only one concerned with the King’s sudden words. His faction was eyeing him with horrified looks. These looks only grew when men in chain hauberks with pikes marched into the garden and surrounded the gathered nobles. Two. Three. Five men deep, they marched to surround the suddenly terrified nobles. Looking closer at their uniforms, I could see they wore a symbol of a fist wrapping a coin crossed with a pike. I wasn’t familiar with that particular group, but I knew what it meant. A coin struck with a weapon had long been associated with mercenaries. The cost for such a number, even for this singular display, would be prohibitive.

Finally, the mercenaries halted, standing at attention and silently staring as they gripped their weapons and waited for a command.

“I have been generous. I have been kind. I have made every effort to let my nobles remember their duties to the crown. No more. The Mage Guild is now dissolved, its lands and properties confiscated by the crown. Nobles who are members of the Guild have one month to swear an oath of loyalty to the crown or be ruled an outlaw. Their properties and life forfeit,” the King bellowed, his face slowly shifting red in anger, an anger that he had long repressed and held tight during his rule.

“Your majesty!” one of the young nobles shouted, but his words were cut short when one of the King’s guard blurred forward and kicked the young man in the stomach.

“I did not give you leave to speak!” shouted the King, his words cutting across the silent men and women who were wide-eyed at being surrounded by hard men with weapons ready to kill.

“When you leave here, you will go to your elders, your House leaders, and you will tell them that the kingdom will no longer support their games. That they will no longer bleed the kingdom dry. That they will present their ledgers to my tax men when they come, or next, my men will come to collect their heads! Now, leave,” the King said. His finger pointed to the hallway formed of snarling men, many of them likely commoners and itching for a chance to display their hard-earned Skills for the gathered nobles.

The nobles marched down that hallway of men and metal, most frightened, some stoic, and a few sneering. The two Northmen marched as well. But at their approach, the mercenaries raised their pikes straight in a sign of respect, a marked change from the blatant forward-pointing display of aggression of their previous stance.

Soon, we were left with only the King and his men when the Baron stepped forward and dropped to a single knee, head bowed.

“My King?” he asked, his tone conveying respect and a carefully controlled questioning tone.

“Rise Anthony, I have no anger in me for you. Only respect for you and yours,” the King said before his haughty tones dropped.

“I can not tell you how good that felt. Forcing those little shits to see that they were powerless,” the King said, his voice gaining a familiarity as he spoke to his friend and supporter.

Rising from his knee, weight, and the years since his last battle not hindering him in the slightest, the Baron clasped an arm with his King.

“I don’t know how you did this, but tell me our troubles are over!” the Baron exclaimed as he smiled at the King.

When the King gestured into the air with his hand, the gathered men marched away and out of the Duke’s garden, the King and his guards the only ones remaining. The Duke was presumably still somewhere within his estate. But, he had pointedly been one of the first marched through the hallway of steel.

When we were alone, the King said, “I was informed last night that the Mage leadership had been executed. I don’t know by whom, and it has me concerned, but I had enough warning that I was able to have much of their personal property confiscated last night. With the help of my contacts,” the King said, while sending a look my way, “we were both able to profit.”

It was clear that he meant the Skill Trainers and their contact with assassin’s, mercenaries, and smugglers. While the Mage leadership had been the first assassinated by some mysterious person - my guess was Rang Yu - they would not be the last of the nobles killed in the coming days. The King was marching to war, even if it was not to be a full rebellion.

“I had to provide certain concessions, but I have been in support of the Skill Trainers since they opposed the Guilds and the Mages held some animosity against them. It was no hardship to make those concessions. The criers will be announcing it soon, but each Barony will be required to have an official Skill Trainer, hired at their expense, for each town in their Barony,” the King said.

It went unsaid that these Skill Trainers would also act as spies for the King. I was confident the King would be tapping into the Skill Trainers’ intelligence network if he wasn’t already.

“And the mercenaries? How could you afford them?” The Baron asked. His concern that this would be a short-lived show of force was evident.

Here the King’s face turned into a look of annoyed disgust, the handsome visage suddenly twisting into the petulant look of an angry four-year-old. Next to me, Snowy grinned, but she quickly wiped clear the look. Still, leaning against her, I could feel her body shake in repressed mirth. It was as much his comical look as the release of tension from the battle and being surrounded.

“I have procured a loan with a foreign bank, the coin only finally arriving after years of wait. With the mercenaries’ support, I will extract the coin from the noble houses that they have failed to pay in tribute over the decades. The coin stacking up in their private vaults worthlessly collecting dust. It will not be a short set of campaigns to collect my due, but I have a noble I can trust to oversee the work!” The King said as he draped one hand over the Baron’s shoulder.

While the Baron blustered about being too old to ride a campaign again, I considered the convenience of Rang Yu arriving simultaneously as the coins of the loan. Somehow, I thought that it was not a coincidence. I almost rolled my eyes at the arrogant thought that I had been the sole impetus for the ancient creature’s arrival. Likely, I was simply a new addition to his plans. Too many things colliding at once could not be a coincidence. The coin had probably been his original plan against the Ancestors. Merely funding the King would be enough to disrupt whatever plans they originally had. The shift from a future rebellion to suddenly empowered Royalists would make their plans moot.

“…Alexis could do it,” the King said, pulling my mind away from my thoughts.

“I would be honored to be so entrusted,” Alexis said as she bowed her head in a nod.

The King smiled at that, his approval of Snowy clear.

“Very well. Anthony will ride herd on the mercenaries, working with my taxmen. You will manage his Barony while he does so,” facing the Baron, he continued, “when you swing up to your Barony, continue on with the mercenaries to visit the once-Baron Mard. If he flees, let him go. If he fights, put his head on a pike.”

The King gestured to his guards to gather before he turned back to us. “The first few Houses that provide their ledgers, if they aren’t too excessive about hiding coin, let them get away with it. Let them know that you know and that I know as well. But, let them do it. Find a few that are keeping more and take everything and cut them down. Make a point of it. If you do this right, we might get more of those on the fence to simply pay their taxes and get back to dealing with trade instead of trying to steal what is mine.”

The King was setting up the Baron to take the blame for excessive enforcement of his orders. He would get his way and then claim that the Baron went too far, reining him back. I could tell that the Baron knew this as well, and he seemed fine with it. Unfortunately, I didn’t think Snowy understood the subtext - that, or I was reading too much into it. But, given the brutal way the King handled today and the manipulations inherent in every one of his movements, I doubted it.