He turned his attention away from the food shortage to look at what he needed for an effective war. There were only two smiths in Greymark, and they had little experience making swords, so he’d brought one from Brucia. Of course, there wasn’t enough steel to outfit every farmer with a sword. It’d be a waste to do so anyway. Most of them would likely be more effective with instruments they already knew well, like hammers and scythes. If nothing else, they could start felling timber to make clubs. They’d have to anyway to get shields made. Armor was his biggest concern, especially helmets. Given the lack of steel, he’d hoped they’d have a good supply of leather, but it looked like there was only one tanner in Greymark, and his inventory was lacking. He hoped the bandits would have some materials they could use. They’d have to strip the dead of anything useful once the fighting was done.
With a page full of inventory notes, he turned his attention to the very last thing he wanted to check before he turned in for the night: Greymark’s finances. Bookkeeping for Greymark had fallen to Rowan’s chief of staff, Lady Gallaway, and her books were a disaster. Even with the mess she’d handed him, it was clear Greymark had funds, even if some of them were tied up in gems and precious metals.
The mines had shut down to facilitate the war, but the castle had a good store in the treasury. To know how much, he needed a more accurate and up-to-date exchange rate than the one Gallaway had scribbled in a margin. For that, he needed an appraiser, which he’d have to bring in from somewhere else. There was one in Brucia they could use. Then they could get Greymark’s books sorted and know precisely how much they could afford to pay the Crows or any merchants they needed to enlist.
“Gods below, Rowan,” Ieduin mumbled, rubbing his eyes. “That man is so godsdamn disorganized I might never sleep again.” He lowered his hand with a sigh and glanced up at the first light of dawn coloring the sky through the window.I’m not getting any sleep tonight. Sorry, Rixxis. Blame Rowan and his shitty bookkeeping.
He slammed the big dusty ledger closed and tucked it back into its spot on the bookshelf before dragging himself from the room.
Bathing on long campaigns was unpleasant for the average mercenary. Normally, it meant gathering around a barrel with half a dozen other Crows and a bar of soap. They’d all hurry through it, trying not to freeze their balls off. Getting promoted to his commander position meant he got a tub for his tent, but the water was still freezing unless he convinced Kat to warm it up for him, or heated it, which took forever.
It'd been a pleasant change to have warm water in Brucia, but he’d heard Greymark had something even better: hot springs.
Ieduin got directions from a servant and found his way down to the lowest level of the palace, where a set of double doors opened to the outside. Granite columns rose around a large rectangular bath as big as the house Ieduin and his sisters had shared. Steam rolled over the carved stairs flowing down into the blue green water.
Damn, I might never leave this place, he thought, and stripped. A few minutes later, he was sinking into the hot water with a groan.
It was tempting to fall asleep, but even just a little nap would probably leave him more exhausted than if he had just suffered through it.
He took longer than usual in the bath, and not just because the hot water was nice and relaxing. There was a small grove of trees off to one side, full of chirping crickets and birds. He was sure he heard the hoot of an owl settling in for his rest. From the bath, he had a breathtaking view of the mountains cradling Greymark, and the mists that clung to them. Sunlight dappled the waking glen, dancing in rainbow rays of light above the mist. Pink streaked the blue sky, announcing ice in the upper atmosphere. They’d have snow in a few weeks at that altitude.
The thought served as a reminder that he was on a limited timeline and had a lot to do before that first snow fell.
Ieduin sighed and dragged himself out of the comfort of the bath. By the time he made it back to the room to change, Rixxis was already gone. He ran into her on his way down to the kitchen in search of coffee.
She crossed her arms. “You didn’t come to bed last night.”
He grunted and walked past her. “Had a lot on my mind.”
She waited for him to trudge down a few more steps before she asked, “Did you sleep at all?”
“Sleep later. Coffee now. See you in the courtyard for inspection.” He waved to her and dragged himself down the hall to the enormous kitchen.
There, the cooks were hard at work, sweating while fires blazed. The air smelled of baking bread and spices, enough to make his mouth water. An irritated heavyset woman in a white bonnet shoved some coffee and buttered bread at him and told him to get out of her way, which he happily obliged, chugging the coffee and handing the mug back to her.
The courtyard was filled to bursting with people, most of them Greymark’s defenders. They stood in no definable lines, some with weapons and worn armor, and some with neither. Their chatter filled the courtyard as a dull roar.
Rixxis, Tofi and twenty other veteran Crows lined the stone wall overlooking the courtyard, all in their black leather uniform battle dress and properly armed. They came to attention as Ieduin climbed the steps. Bows snapped back against shoulders and hands went to swords in ready position like they did whenever Ruith came out for an inspection.
Ieduin hesitated slightly. He still wasn’t used to that. He wanted to tell them not to bother, that he wasn’t big on formalities, but Ruith never acknowledged them or spoke to them. He just expected it, and so Ieduin decided he should too.
Ieduin climbed up to the center of the wall, where Rixxis had joined Rowan and Ewan. He noted the slight bruising under Rowan’s eyes. Like Ieduin, he must’ve been up all night. What was keeping him up, Ieduin wondered? It sure wasn’t the logistics of running his kingdom.
“You look almost as bad as me,” Ieduin mumbled, coming to stand beside Rowan.
“Couldn’t sleep,” Rowan said, shaking his head.
Ewan grunted. “As if you ever do. Seems you two have that much in common.”
Rowan turned his head, looking at Ieduin. Even tired as he was, Ieduin couldn’t help but respond to that piercing gaze. There was something about how Rowan looked at him that seemed to strip away all his armor, all his defenses both real and imagined, and made him want to grovel at the king’s feet.
“Ewan tells me you plan to take that one out to Dagh Cairn,” Rowan said, motioning to Tofi.
Ieduin nodded. “I intend to take that bit of land back for you and kill as many bandits as I can doing it. You object?”
“I think it bears discussion, but that can wait until after we’ve set things in motion here. Ewan?”
The older man cleared his throat and stepped forward. “Three hundred fighting men, as promised.”