Paul’s POV

  The inside of Paul’s tent was lit by a few scattered candles. The sweet scent of cherry oils burned in the background. In the center of the tent was a table with a map on it. They were a few hours out from the mine. The cynical vampire wasn’t sure if he trusted Thalarius enough to stay in the town.

  Durnakh was busy organizing a mining and smelting crew. His collection of villages had more resources in that area than the rest of Paul’s kingdom combined. In exchange for organizing and supplying the personnel necessary for the project to get under way Durnakh’s son, Raewyn, would actually head the village and oversee the mine, where Thalarius wasn’t involved.

  Now Paul waited for his council to assemble. Nightfall was only a few minutes away and Paul knew what he wanted to do, he just needed confirmation on how it would work out.

  To the north and east of their current position was a series of goblin villages. If they followed that line, continuing north and east for a few days then start to make their way south, there was a plethora of villages. Then they would hit the river, that Paul now knew was called the Bigwet River. Literal. Crude. Very goblin.

  At its thinnest, close to Gravewell, it was about 300 feet wide. Across the Bigwet was hobgoblin lands. The lands north of Gravewell were plentiful and resource rich. According to Rikkard and Durnakh a couple of the villages had populations reaching into the 500’s. There were about 12 villages in the area all together.

  On top of everything else, goblins weren’t known for their building prowess. The villages lacked keeps and even walls. There were, however, traps littering the fields outside the villages.

  Liora came into the tent. Her long silvery dress blew in a wind that wasn’t there.

  “What are you thinking?” She asked.

  “I think we have enough of an army to subjugate the tribes north of Gravewell.” Paul answered. “Scouts and informants say there are 12 villages and some with a population that can field sizable forces.” The vampire lord tapped a spot on the map. “This is a village ran by the Sawtooth tribe. They collect tribute from the smaller villages around them. Estimates put them at 600 goblins.”

  “An army of 600 goblins?” Liora asked credulously.

  Paul barked a small laugh. “No, the entire population is about 600. Their army is about 200.”

  “So, about the size of my own forces?” Durnakh asked as he walked in with Rikkard.

  “We have even more undead.” Paul said.

  “Plus, 6 ogres and an ettin.” Rikkard said.

  “Yes. When we first arrived here, we were a weak and meaningless force, but we have grown.” Paul said. “I intend to subjugate them all. Even further east and south of here other powerful villages. Each was a powerhouse in its own right, but before our might they will fall in line one way or another.”

  “Hopefully the Sawtooth clan puts up a fight. My warriors are spoiling for a fight.” Durnakh said.

  “We could lose quite the number of troops if we fight a sizable army compared to ours.” Rikkard commented.

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  “Soldiers that fall on the field will rise again to serve again in other ways. We have enough undead forces we might be able to keep some of the living troops as back up auxiliaries.” Paul said.

  Durnakh snorted, “Keeping the ‘living’ troops in the peripherals will make them lax and assured of easy victories.” He examined the map, trying to see what Paul saw. “We don’t have to dedicate the entire force to a suicide mission, but keeping them out of battles is a bad idea.”

  “What do you think?” Paul asked Liora.

  “I had never served in an army in life, my only real taste of battle came after I was dead and risen.” Liora responded. “I find I like battle, but for the goblins, I would have to trust the advice of their commanders.”

  “Alight.” Paul said. “We will polish any specific plans once we see their forces, but we will try to keep the living troops involved.”

  Rikkard and Durnakh nodded and affirmed they understood what was expected of them and moved on to talk about other things. Paul stopped listening for a moment.

  “Where is Eryndral?” Paul finally asked.

  Durnakh laughed. “Your vampress is trying to convince the troops that Zugnorak isn’t as good at protecting them as Shiiraviia. I told her, we are a warrior people and our gods are warrior gods, but she doesn’t want to listen. Preach your new goddess to the ghost.”

  It was probably true. The entire march to the mine Eryndral had went back and forth talking to this group or that group. She sometimes complained that Paul didn’t do more to encourage Shiiraviia’s worship among his people.

  If Eryndral had her way the old gods of the goblins would probably be banished. Paul was fine with the goblins continuing to worship their old gods, as long as they prayed and partook in the full moon celebrations he oversaw each month.

  That wasn’t enough for Eryndral. The goblins needed to specifically worship Shiiraviia according to her, but Paul wasn’t sure. Shiiraviia was an undead goddess, worshipped and revered by the undead.

  Durnakh was right. The priestess should preach to Slorbb, the newest ghost scout. The lissik could probably use a little undead encouragement.

  “Go find her.” Paul said to Liora. “I need to speak to her.”

  “There is no need to search me out.” Eryndral said as she stepped into the tent. “The men are obstinate. They refuse to worship Shiiraviia.”

  “We are an efficient army, why ask for more?” Rikkard asked.

  Eryndral sighed, “Because Shiiraviia deserves the worship.”

  “Its not a matter of what our goddess deserves,” Paul said, “its about what we can get them to do. We need to start small and gradual.”

  “Even then, you may never rid the forest of the old gods.” Durnakh said.

  “Leave.” Paul said. “I need some time alone with Eryndral.”

  Durnakh laughed loudly, “Go you, my lord.”

  Rikkard rolled his eyes at the comment.

  Liora moved to a corner of the tent with a chair.

  “You are pushing too hard.” Paul said. “The goblins will only take so much before they rebel.”

  “They would not dare move against their great conqueror.” Eryndral said. “Every battle won is another notch in their eyes for you. I may have a better chance of preaching you as a god.”

  Paul rolled his eyes. “They follow for fear of reprisal.”

  “Maybe at first. Now, however, they follow because you win.”

  Paul looked at the map, hopefully his winning streak would continue into the northern provinces.

  “Maybe if you pushed?”

  “No.” Paul said. “They have added Shiiraviia to their pantheon and worship her alongside their local gods.” He looked up at Eryndral. “They are doing as I commanded, and as far as I am aware, Shiiraviia is fine with it.”

  “My divine tether to her gives me…”

  “Nothing here.” Paul said. “You are here because I allow it. Don’t push your luck.”

  “You wouldn’t.” Eryndral stepped closer to him.

  “Try it Eryndral.” Liora said.

  The wraith had moved from her seat to stand right behind the vampress. “Shiiraviia…”

  “Is not stupid.” Paul finished. “She is eternal as are we. We have time. Calm yourself Eryndral. Start small and your tree will grow.”

  Clenching her jaw, Eryndral stormed out of the tent.

  “She is going to be trouble.” Liora said.

  “She is old and set in her ways.” Paul said. “Alaric was the same way.”

  Thinking of his old master brought a tinge of pain to his heart. He looked over at Liora, the last vestige of an older life.

  “Let’s pack up, it’s time to break camp.” Paul finally said.