Almost alone, at any rate. Next to him, standing well above the king even if he hadn’t been seated on his stool, was Ardel, his most trusted advisor. Ardel was a half-elf, but the court tried not to hold that against him, mostly because he was also smart, capable, and unwaveringly loyal. The last part mattered more to Liadon than the others. Loyalty was rare, at least when dealing with other royals and aristocrats. He’d take a loyal dunce over an unfaithful genius any day. Thankfully, in Ardel, the king hadn’t had to choose just one trait.
“We’ll soon have enough adventurers for another expedition.” Ardel’s voice was soft, gentle, unassuming. It hid well the pools of dark resourcefulness concealed in his mind.
King Liadon nodded, his shoulder-length, blond hair catching on the long elven ears that stuck out from his head. “What does this make? Eleven?”
“Thirteen, sire.” Unlike the king, Ardel kept his muddy brown hair trimmed short, almost the length of a soldier’s. It drew attention to his ears, the short things that stuck out just a touch and ended in a misshapen-seeming roundness. His ears had none of the human simplicity, or the elven grace. It was for this reason that many half-elves kept their ears concealed, and it was for that reason that Ardel left his plainly on display.
“Thirteen, eh? That’s a good number. Not as good as seven or eleven, but those expeditions didn’t turn out any better, so perhaps thirteen is what we need. Have any failed to show up?”
“According to the guards at the gate, the next to last group checked in a few minutes ago: some adventurers who won their missive by slaying kobolds.”
“Kobold slayers?” The king gave a sad shake of his head. It might have knocked his crown askew, had he been wearing one. It, like the throne, was suited for appearance, so it rested on the throne when Liadon didn’t feel a need to impress anyone. “I almost pity them. That group likely won’t make it past the entrance.”
“Likely not,” Ardel agreed. “But one never knows who the hands of fate will guide.”
“Of course, of course; that’s why we’re grabbing all we can. What’s the deadline on this last batch of missives, anyway?”
“Tomorrow at sunrise,” Ardel said. He had no need to double check a scroll or notebook to recall this information. It was his duty to be abreast of all things his king might need to know.
“Very good. We’ll do the briefing at noon. Oh, and have some riders ready to go if the last group doesn’t arrive,” King Liadon ordered.
“The usual instructions, sire?”
“Of course. If they failed to come, kill them. If they fell while en route, kill everyone responsible. Maybe a few extra too, just to send the message. Can’t have the peasants getting ideas about killing people in royal employ. Adventurers are too useful.” King Liadon turned his gaze back out the window, his eyes charting the movements of various riders. After a moment of observation, he spoke again.
“Oh, one more thing. Is the next batch of missives drawn up?”
“Yes, sire. They’ll go out as soon as the thirteenth expedition starts.”
“Send them out today,” King Liadon instructed. “Lucky numbers aside, no sense in not getting expedition fourteen off the ground as soon as possible. We both know, odds are, these adventurers will likely be corpses before the next new moon.”
“Yes, sire.”
Despite their worrying, the process of getting through the castle gates had gone quite smoothly. Thistle handed a guard the scroll they’d acquired only a few short weeks ago, the guard had looked it over, then handed it back, and with that, they were ushered through onto the castle’s grounds.
More grass ran along the landscape, but now, it was broken up into sections, with roads and various buildings in between. These roads ran in a complex, circular pattern with the castle standing at the center. It was a squat, grey cube of a building, almost aggressively unremarkable. It was certainly overshadowed by the presence of one of the three great Solium towers within the same grounds. To some, it would seem that the builders had no eye for aesthetic details. To those gifted with a bit more intelligence, they would understand that the castle was not meant to awe with ostentatiousness; it was meant to impress by being fortified and impregnable.
As Grumph and the others made it past the gates, they found themselves almost immediately greeted by another guard. This one wore less-imposing armor than the others, and actually permitted himself to smile a bit as he stopped the adventurers from moving forward.
“Good day,” he greeted. “What business have you at the castle?”
“We were given a missive to come see the king for a task,” Thistle told him. “You see, we defe—”
“Right, more for the expedition.” The guard jerked his thumb to the left, pointing to a large, stone building further down the road. “Go over there and talk to the guard out front. He’ll put your horses to the stables and set you up in a room. You should get your instructions sometime tomorrow. Until then, there’s food, beds, and a training ring out back. Try not to break anything.”
Eric opened his mouth to ask a follow-up question, but Thistle shook his head. The guard was done with them, already walking over to the next group coming through the gates. Eric pursed his lips, but kept silent, keeping pace as they headed over to the building where they’d been instructed to go. It was a bit insulting, to be treated so dismissively after everything they’d gone through to get here. Eric calmed himself by keeping in mind that they weren’t coming in as heroes of Appleram, having helped thwart a demon invasion, but as mere kobold exterminators.
As they drew closer to the building, the sounds of battle reached their ears. From their perch on the road, they could make out several figures behind the building, swinging various weapons at one another. Many were using wooden implements; however, several had real blades in their hands as they attacked their opponents. From a glance, it appeared there were at least ten to fifteen people out there.
“Right then, so, a building full of adventurers,” Eric surmised, words breaking free at last.
“Seems that way,” Thistle agreed.
“Why, though? Another tournament?” Gabrielle asked.
“They don’t need adventurers for a Solium tournament; that’s where royals show their stuff,” Thistle said. “I’d wager it’s for a task too difficult or dangerous for a single party to handle.”
“Or for competition,” Grumph added.
“Aye, that might be it too, having us all compete for the same goal so that the king only has to reward one party.”
“Is everyone out to screw adventurers?” Eric muttered.
“Seems that way,” Gabrielle agreed. If it occurred to either one of them that only a short time ago they’d have laughed off such practices as what the troublemakers deserved, they both chose not to comment on it.
The party soon reached the building where, just as they’d been told, another guard was waiting out front. He helped them down, then called some attendants to bring their horses to the nearby stables. After checking their missive for confirmation, he directed them into the building to get settled.
Whatever it was being used for now, this place had clearly been constructed as barracks; the cold, grey floors, lack of decoration, and abundance of bunk rooms made that obvious. The guard showed them around. There was a communal dining area, where food would be served to them, a small stove for cooking if they felt so inclined, and three bathrooms, two of which had been designated for women. The training ground out back was expansive, an area of hard-packed dirt littered with wooden weaponry. When the tour was complete, which took so little time their horses were still standing outside, the guard showed them to a bunk room and told them to settle in.