“Fools and cowards, one and all! What has Rupilo done to my army!?”

Pacha's day couldn't possibly have gone worse. About half a day after the battle between Corco and Rupilo had ended, they had arrived at the scene. By that point, both armies were long gone. At first, the king had wanted to pursue Corco and his tired-out men to force an engagement right away, but that turned out to not be an option. Not only was Pacha now aware that his army was slower in the snow than the southerners, the lords under him also continued to trip up his step.

Once they had set up a camp on the battlefield, he had been forced to give a proper burial to all the dead warriors left in the snow. The lords had insisted that their men would be cared for, but just finding a priest in the war-torn countryside had already been a nightmare. While they had been busied with the preparations for a mass funeral, a sheer endless string of warriors came out of the woodwork to rejoin their cause.

These were the scattered and defeated troops of Rupilo, trudging back to their masters like the beaten dogs they were. However, they were still nobles of Medala and many of them were servants of the lords around him, so he couldn't just throw them away, despite their incompetence.

At least they offered Pacha a more detailed picture of what had happened during the battle, though the new information did nothing to still his anger. As it turned out, his northern troops had attacked in a confused and disjointed manner, so Corco had needed less than an hour to wipe out the entirety of Rupilo's troops. With a quick win like that, Corco's men couldn't be considered tired but warmed up instead. It turned out that his forced decision to not rush after them was the correct one in the end.

After he had learned more about Corco's overwhelming victory and his novel tactics, he became even more careful than before. With all these additional troops so readily available, he decided to rest at the former battlefield and send out his men to pull together as many of the scattered warriors as he could. At the same time, he also sent out another runner to call back Herak. Since Corco had escaped towards the east, there was no more reason to split up and march west.

Although he didn't quite understand just why his nephew would give up his tactical advantage like that, Pacha wasn't foolish enough to believe that Corco didn't have a plan. He could feel that a big confrontation was upon them. The end of the war had drawn near, and he would be damned if he made another mistake like trusting Rupilo.

“It appears as if King Pachacutec has run into some difficulties during his campaign.” As he was lost in thought, a familiar figure entered Pacha's command tent, surrounded by the king's guards.

“Official Mito, what a surprise. What made my uncle's closest aide leave the Ichilia mansion and come here to the middle of nowhere?”

Although Pacha despised his uncle Divitius Ichilia's petty inaction during the war so far, he was still his most solid ally, the only one he was related to through blood. Though he remained seated on his throne, the least he could do was overlook Mito's snide remark and pretend he was glad to see the servant. In turn, the servant did the same and put on a smarmy grin.

“Here is where the heavens have laid out our fates, so to say. King Pachacutec, your uncle is very worried about the state of the empire, and he is even more worried about his nephew. This servant has been sent to offer assistance in case King Pachacutec should require it.”

“Yes, how very kind of you.” Pacha narrowed his eyes. “My uncle would not just have sent you over to make sure I would ask for his help and be in his debt, would he?”

When his real intentions were revealed, the servant's face twitched only for a moment. Even though he restored his friendly facade right away, it was still enough for Pacha to confirm the truth.

“Although Lord Ichilia had no doubt that King Pachacutec can use his own power to be victorious against the incompetent southern barbarians, my master would be more than willing to offer additional support, should it be required. After all, King has already asked for help once before, and asking again would surely not make much of a difference.”

“Right, is that how it is?” Pacha sneered. “Are you implying that the southerners are incompetent and thus should have been easy to defeat? Have you come to insult me on purpose?”

“Of course not. This servant misspoke.” The flustered servant realized that he had stepped over the line with his comments. However, his half-hearted excuse wasn't nearly enough to pacify the king's heart.

“There is no reason to play any games here, the lords are not present and both of us know the truth. This king never asked his uncle to set up a blockade in the Narrow Sea. I only played along because I did not want my uncle to look like he ignored his king's commands - though he did - and because I believed that the blockade would be beneficial to my campaign. I have to say, as far as military operations go, the manner of my uncle's failure was quite impressive. All throughout history, it would be hard to find a blockade more useless and mismanaged than the one set up by House Ichilia. Are the incompetent foreigners who have made so much trouble for me the same that have sunk my uncle's ships and starved out his warriors?”

“It appears the king has not fared much better than Lord Ichilia.” The servant's voice darkened, another sign of disrespect. “King Pacha, you should be obedient and ask for help when it is needed. The south has proven much stronger than anticipated, and our sides will need to work together if we wish to defeat them. However, House Ichilia does not stand to lose anything should King be defeated, so there is no reason for Master Ichilia to act. King should not try too hard to preserve his pride, or he will lose everything in the attempt.”

As he thought about his precarious position, Pacha's hands tightened around his throne's armrests.

“Are you not done? Do you wish to continue your insult? You have had enough for one day, servant. Do you agree?” the king's voice was deep. “Maybe you have spent too much time in Huaylas and now you believe it to be the center of Medala. You did not believe you could continue to insult me without any consequences, did you? With your goading, you have taken far more liberties with your king than would be good for you, servant. Maybe it would be best if you left, before this king forgets his family relations to your master.”

Rather than listen to reason, the servant only bounced from one foot to another, before he tried to offer more shallow platitudes.

“King Pachacutec, Lord Ichilia has sent this servant with a gift-”

“Leave it with the guards outside,” the king interrupted. “I am not interested. I will have my servants call for you should I need you for anything. Pray that I do, because if I do not, you will have to return to Huaylas and explain to my uncle exactly why your negotiations failed.”

“If King Pacha ever requires assistance from the great Lord Ichilia, we will be more than willing to support him.” Although his face was pale, the servant still managed to say his proper goodbyes before he turned and left the tent.

For a while, Pacha looked at the busy scene out of his tent's entrance and thought about their precarious position. In truth, he would do well to ask his uncle for additional reinforcements. Outside, Pacha could see more and more clumps of warrior stragglers appear in the distant snow, as they walked towards his command tent. Although the return of the defeated warriors strengthened his army, it also proved just how easily Corco had won the last engagement and how poorly these warriors had handled the last war.

Even though there were conflicting reports from the returning warriors – all of whom aimed to paint their defeat in a better light – there had been no cleanup of the dead warriors at the end of the battle. Since the battlefield had been left in such a sloppy state, Pacha had a pretty good idea of Rupilo's actual casualties. It appeared as if the army hadn't even been decimated before it collapsed. They had lost less than two thousand men before they ran like cowards. This sort of inferiority couldn't be explained with only a disadvantage in equipment.

Although Corco's weapons were impressive, the key must have lain somewhere else, be it training, tactics or morale. In all three areas, Pacha was convinced he and his men could do much better than what Rupilo had achieved. Still, the heavy loss had cast a deep shadow over the entire campaign. Another defeat like the first one and Pacha might as well give up on being king altogether.

“Lord Pacha, should we send the next visitor?” his attendant interrupted the dreaded thought that had circled in Pacha's head for days.

“Another one? How many times will these lords come over here and try to flatter me with their plundered goods? What is the point when they only take them from my own people? Even more, when they keep all the best pieces for themselves?”

“No, this time, it is one of our runners with news from the east.”

“Fine, bring him in,” he frowned. Maybe this time, the news would be good for a change, though going by his recent track record in the war, Pacha didn't have much hope.

After a while, the king had received a letter from his spies in the east. His frown had only deepened after reading its contents. Corco's attendant had somehow smuggled an entire army into Lord Nasica's lands and was now on his way south. Even with all their experience, Pacha's fake bandits were not strong enough to stop them.

For a moment, Pacha thought it might be another fake from his sly nephew, but soon gave up on the idea. The information seemed secure enough. Even though he had lost a few of his runners over the past few days in scuffles with Corco's own, he was still in charge of the central kingdom and a move this large would be impossible for the enemy to fake.

In theory, this move-out should be good news to Pacha. The only reason Corco had invaded the north was because Pacha had his nephew's attendant trapped in his lands. Once the attendant managed to cross the southern border, the King of the Center would be stuck in front of that blasted Qarasi Castle again.

However, his warriors in the east would do everything to slow down the attendant, time enough to intercept them. If he turned east now, Corco would have no choice but to block his path to guarantee a smooth journey for his servant. Now that he knew about the enemy movements in the east, Pacha would finally have the big confrontation with his nephew he had always wanted. All he had to do was march east.

Yet as the great moment drew near he hesitated, very much unlike himself. He remembered the chaotic mess of bodies and limbs he had found all around the hill of Rupilo's defeat. He remembered the sight of his men's lives being harvested in front of Qarasi Castle.

More than anything however, he still felt the moment when his nephew had ruined his future. Unconsciously, his left hand cradled his right elbow, the one that wouldn't bend well ever since that day, and he felt the full cold of winter in his bones. However, he remembered something else, the moment he looked up through the pain and saw his nephew walk off with Pacha's hair in his hand. It was a shame he would have to make up for, even if it cost him everything.

Who cared if he had failed? Who cared if he would fail again? As his hands ran through the short hair on his head, he realized that honor didn't matter for him. Whatever honor he had possessed, he had lost back during the Nobles' Assembly. The only way to regain it would be by stepping forward without fear. Although the Ichilia servant had been a pain, he had been correct in one respect: Pride would only get in the way of victory.

His spirit renewed, the king jumped out of his throne.

“Tell the men to get ready for march. As soon as Herak arrives, we head for the east, to teach the southerners the lesson they deserve.”

“Yes, King Pachacutec,” his attendant replied in a solemn tone.

Right before the king left his command tent, he looked back to his servant. “And get rid of the capes. We are at war, not in a parade.”

“Yes, King Pachacutec.” This time, the voice sounded much warmer, enough to combat the cold.

Determined to make up for his mistakes, Pacha rushed down the hill, his guards in tow. Soon enough, he reached the temporary tents his uncle's envoy's had erected close-by. When he burst inside, he saw several men in fancy silks sit around a small fire and talk in whispers. Chief among them was the nuisance from earlier. Thus, Pacha saw himself confronted by his uncle Ichilia's Official Mito once again.

“Official Mito, this king has changed his mind,” he said, no shame on his face or in his heart. “Tell my uncle to send as many men as he can. We will need all the support we can get to beat back the southern warriors.”

At first, the servants seemed panicked at the sudden intrusion, but soon, their leader's eyes and mouth turned into crescent moons.

“A wise decision, King.” The smug servant barely bothered to hide the contempt in his voice.

“However, this king has no intention to cooperate with a lord who cannot educate his subordinates on proper conduct.” Pacha smiled as he ignored the annoying Mito and turned to the other servants his uncle had sent. “Back when he presented Lord Ichilia's offer, Official Mito insulted this king, calling him incompetent and vain. If these are the best servants Lord Ichilia has to offer, then we do not need his support. We expect an answer on this issue, or we will fight the war alone.”

While the king spoke, the servant's smugness faded into nothing. As a warrior of House Ichilia, he would know Pacha's uncle even better than Pacha himself did. Normally, a slap on Mito's wrist would be enough to satisfy the king's demand for an answer. However, Divitius Ichilia was a man who didn't do half-measures. The servant would be lucky if the rest of his family would be spared and only he would be dead. After all, what was a single servant's life compared to the grand plans of Divitius Ichilia?

“King Pachacutec, please show mercy,” the servant whimpered, all his previous guts lost now that his big backer had been turned against him. However, the king had greater issues to worry about than a rude servant.

“Tell my uncle: Next time he sends me an envoy, it better be someone with manners.”

With the last of his bad mood driven away, Pacha felt his old heroism return as he left the tent of the diplomats. He had a war to win, and no amount of greedy lords or petty servants would stand in his way.