During the night I must have been dreaming about the food crisis, because I woke up having made two decisions. As soon as I was dressed and sat in the great hall, eating my breakfast, I acted on them. Firstly, I sent a messenger to amend Chancellor Parrin’s mission. He was not simply to scout for the enemy dispositions, he was to obtain information about when and how the ripened grain from our former lands was to be transported. Then he was to liaise with Lord Arval in using our light cavalry to intercept it. Assuming we had cleared the enemy from the valley that descended to the farmlands, the way should be open for such a raiding operation. If so, I’d leave the details in Lord Arval’s capable hands.

Secondly, I would ask the necromancer for a delivery of food on account. I hated having to beg, but couldn’t see an alternative. This was a job for Figus, which was a shame, because I also wanted the charismatic bard to negotiate for the release of the prisoners. They were a burden and as soon as I could get them off my hands for any kind of recompense, the better.

While drinking a mint tea (thinking that I’d give a chest of gold for a bag of coffee), I checked for the new supply of ingots. The menu showed me I had 4 now in the stores. The new picks were making a difference but I was slightly disappointed that the daily yield wasn’t 5. I allocated 3 to the smithy, to finish off upgrading all the miners and was glad to put aside 1 towards my first trade with the necromancer.

Next, I called up my character sheet.

Sean de Courcy, king of Greyland

Fighter, Level 5 HP 40 AC 0

Str 7

Dex 5

Con 8

Int 16

Wis 16

Cha 5

Skills

Bash 25

Block 1

Defensive Stance 1

Deflect 1

Dodge 1

Impale 25

Lunge 5

Parry 5

Wield Rapier 5

Wield Shortbow 3

Feats

Charge! (Wis)

You have 4 attribute points to assign.

You have 15 skill points to assign.

XP 2,860 (3,200)

It was heartening to see that my Dexterity and Charisma had both improved a point. That gave me an insight into the process, in that I’d been exerting myself to the utmost the previous day both to use the Rhino form effectively and to encourage the army. Probably, I’d performed actions that tested them repeatedly or under very great stress. And both were moving from extremely low starting points. There was almost certainly some non-linear progression at work here in that I’d have to do more than one day’s activity to increase the higher stats.

While it was probable that weight training was the likely way to improve Strength, how could I exert myself enough to trigger a Constitution increase?

Perhaps Carradock Goblinbane would know. In any event, I wasn’t going to spend my four attribute points yet. I still had to understand the system better.

It was time to choose my fifteen new skills and after placing one point in each of the following I felt a real sense of progress: Grapple: action, unarmed attack that restricts opponent if successful; Heavy armour mastery: passive, allows the use of heavy armour; Kick: action, attack enemy with a kick; Medium armour mastery: passive, allows the use of medium armour; Quick draw: action, produce hidden or sheathed weapon; Ride Warhorse: passive, necessary requirement for the use of other skills from horseback; Riposte: action, counter-attack enemy (can only be triggered after a successful Parry); Shield mastery: passive, allows use of all sizes of shield; Wield espadon: passive, allows the use of a double-edged, two-handed sword; Wield longbow: passive, allows the use of longbows; Wield polearm: passive, allows the use of all polearms and spears (not thrown); Wield war axe: passive, allows use of a heavy, two-handed axe.

Most of the Warlord skills clearly overlapped with other fighter classes as they were all pretty standard, generic ones, but my progression as Warlord had unlocked three eye-catching skills that were likely unique to this path. Battle Cry: action, raises the morale of allies within earshot; Detect Enemy Weakness: action, gain insight as to the extent to which the morale of the target is wavering; Stonewall: action, gain increased AC in proportion to skill level (this skill cannot be higher than Defensive Stance).

Of course I unlocked these with a point in each. Someday on the battlefield, they could make all the difference.

I noticed too that (Wis) had appeared beside my first Feat, and I opened that sub-menu.

Charge! All friendly units in the vicinity get a 20% increase to base movement and a temporary 5 hit point increase. Charge! is a Wisdom based feat and each point of Wisdom above 15 increases the buff by an additional 1 hit point and 1% move. A Wisdom of 18 therefore leads to a Charge! with the effect of +8 temporary hit points and +23% movement for all those who hear the call.

Now that was interesting and gave me pause for a long thought. The attribute points I’d been storing up could make this a powerful area-of-effect buff. If I put all four in Wisdom and hit 20, that would be plus 25% movement and plus 10 hit points to my nearby troops. Considering the basic, level 0 archer had only 5 hit points, that was very appealing. Before I committed myself to this idea though, I needed to test the Feat to see what the reset timer was and how many soldiers it could affect.

Very pleased indeed with these set of skills, that reminded me of my Storm Wars days when I had the skills and feats to tank major bosses, I made my way over to the barracks. There was something odd about the behaviour of the people that I passed. A quick check on the people menu told me that an increased happiness score – now up to 21 ­– might have had something to do with it. But there was something else going on. Furtive smiles. Little whispers to each other and looks at me that were almost sniggers. It felt like I was in fancy dress.

Carradock Goblinbane was alone at the barracks and on my arrival he saluted me eagerly and said, ‘well done sire! Very well done.’

‘Thank you.’

‘And sire. I may only have one arm, but next time I hope you’ll take me with you. I can haul on a rope, or help the soldiers get into formation.’

His look was earnest, almost pleading.

‘Consider yourself so instructed, Carradock. You can be my aide-de-camp when we are in battle.’

‘Thank you sire.’ His words were heartfelt and the tears in his eyes sincere. Good man.

‘Now, let’s continue with my personal training. I want to get stronger,’ I said, ‘and I also want my Constitution to increase.’

‘The first I can help with. The second too, but not so much.’ He glanced at me and must have seen a query in my expression, because he continued, ‘if you assign soldiers to survival training, it takes three months for them to become hardier.’

‘Three months.’ I sighed.

‘In your case, it might go quicker; you can dedicate yourself to it. As much as your duties allow.’

‘What does survival training involve?’

‘We go into the mountains and live off the land, building a lean-to, hunting and climbing every day.’

‘Living off the land you say?’ It occurred to me I might make a small saving in food requirements to assign some soldiers to this training. And I would end up with better troops. But with the army so tiny, I could hardly afford this measure, could I?

‘Yes sire, it’s not the comfortable life a king is used to, no, not by a long way. We’ll be hungry most nights. But I believe I see in you a determination that will meet the challenge.’

I caught Carradock’s eye and nodded. All the same, there was so much to do here.

‘What about the strength training?’

‘Much more straightforward, sire. I’ll teach you the lifts and you practice them over and over until you are at your limit.’

‘Let’s begin with that then.’ I literally rolled up my sleeves.

Soon, I was performing a variety of exercises, aimed at strengthening my arms and shoulders mostly, but Carradock also had me work on my legs with simple squats that very quickly became a challenge.

When I took a break for water, I noticed again the presence of onlooking townspeople, who still had the furtive smiles and almost expectant expressions. Before driving them away to get on with their tasks, I leaned in towards Carradock.

‘What’s with the smirks?’

‘Oh,’ Carradock had a thin, weasel-like face, more used to scowling than smiling to judge from the lines on it. But now it broke into a broad grin. ‘Why sire, it’s our new flag.’ He pointed with his one hand.

The flagpole at the corner of the barracks had a green flag that I’d thought I’d seen previously. When the wind picked up enough to lift it fully open, however, I could see that it had indeed changed. The previous symbol had been a white circle of some sort. That was gone. Instead, it showed a galloping white rhino.

It was probably out of character as King Carlos but I couldn’t help smile. I looked around the square and shared the moment with the people who were there, letting them see I was pleased. Then called out, trying to sound gruff. ‘All right, I’ve seen it. I approve. Now get about your tasks.’

***

A couple of hours later, when I was panting from the weight training and sweat was pouring from my body, despite the cool autumn day, a messenger came hurrying to find me. It was a gangly teenage boy who I’d seen around the keep. ‘Sire, sire! A ship is making for our harbour.’

‘What kind of ship?’

‘A Viking ship!’ His eyes were wide with alarm. And my heart lurched too. We had no troops at all in Carrick. Well, a one-armed sergeant, a level three bard, an over-weight fighter who couldn’t fit into any of the town’s armour, and a sorceress. At least we had Carlena, I hoped her mana was fully restored.

‘Go fetch the sorceress. Tell her to meet me at the quays. Get someone else to find Figus, the ambassador.’

‘Yes sire.’

‘Carradock, come with me and bring your sword.’

‘Spear, sire. I can still stick ‘em with it.’

‘Right so.’

The quayside of the town of Carrick was a simple affair. One pier of stone stretched out into a grey sea for about thirty yards. In the protection of the lee of the wall bobbed two rowboats that were moored to buoys. It really needed a tower here, to help against invasion. At least we were outside the town walls and could fall back through a portcullis.

Shading my hand from the reddish sun, I could see the ship clearly enough. A bank of oars on each side; a large, square-rigged sail with a black and white stripe; and the ominous dragon head, facing us, rising up and down as they worked their oars and drove their ship towards us.

‘What do you know of these people, Carradock?’

‘Dangerous, sire. Fierce fighters. Robbers. Their land – Jomskar – is north, beyond the Kingdom of Lost Souls. We have a saying, “never turn your back on a Jomsviking”, because they’d do you sire. Give you a knock on the head and you’d wake up a slave of theirs.’

A clatter of boots on cobbles heralded the arrival of Carlena, the boy with her. The sorceress was in her fighting outfit of trousers and tunic and as she gave me a nod of greeting, she tied her hair up tightly into a bun.

I addressed the lad, ‘get everyone you can from the town and take whatever helmets and shields we have in the armoury in the keep and hurry to the walls. Try to make it seem like we have plenty of soldiers in the town. And get some people to the portcullis.’

The boy’s large Adam’s apple bobbed up and down as he swallowed heavily. Then he was off, almost slipping on the cobbles as he scrambled over-eagerly back towards town. This really was a lesson for me. Never to leave the town completely without troops. Hopefully, the infantry that Lord Arval was sending on leave would arrive before nightfall but for now, we were desperately weak. Even this one ship posed a significant threat.

‘How’s the mana?’ I asked Carlena.

‘Full.’

‘You’re all we’ve got.’

‘This I can see.’

I was hoping she’d add something reassuring to that comment. She didn’t.

In contrast to the tension of Carlena’s stance, the arrival of Figus was almost nonchalant in the confidence of his stride. He was well-dressed in good quality cloth, which was embroidered with intricate patterns based on the interweaving of wild flowers.

‘Sire.’

‘Ambassador.’

The four of us moved part way along the pier and stood in silence as the ship drew closer and closer. Seagulls swooped and squabbled and the scent of the ocean was as salty as on Earth. There was an extraordinary difference with my experience of the sea back home though. Here, on the horizon was a line of white mist that sparkled under the midday sun. The edge of the world, presumably.

As the ship came around the head of the pier, I could see the men – and women – aboard. They were long-haired, tall and sturdy. How I envied them their fitness. And to my great relief, they were not brandishing weapons and helmeted up. At the front of the ship, one arm on the fabulously carved prow, was a red-haired woman whose dark green cloak fluttered around her. She caught my eye and gave a shout. ‘Hail King Carlos, permission to enter your lands?’

‘Just you.’

With that their spokeswoman threw out a coiled rope with considerable dexterity and it was Carradock, despite only having one arm, who caught it and tied it off on a bollard. With an impressively uniform response to a command barked from the man at the tiller, the oars came in and the ship lay easy just a few yards from the pier. The crew were looking at us frankly, with curiosity, and were clearly unafraid.

Two planks were found to bridge the gap to us and without hesitation the woman ran across. She was in her thirties; had a wide, attractive face; and brown eyes that shone with amusement, or was it cunning?

‘I am Jarl Injeborg the Red, here to speak to you on behalf of King Olgrim Beartooth of Jomskar.’

‘Go on.’

She laughed. ‘In my land, we greet ambassadors with generous hospitality. No wonder this place is called Greyland. Will we not go to your castle? A room? Some wine? Or mead if you like.’ She turned to her crew. ‘Ragnald, throw over a bottle of mead.’

One of the Vikings rummaged up a bottle, threw it accurately and Injeborg caught it effortlessly. Again it was an impressive display of skill and the whole crew knew it too, there were grins on all their faces.

‘Here’s just fine.’

‘Suspicious?’ She opened her arms wide, throwing back her cloak to show that the only weapon on her was a small knife in a decorated leather scabbard on her belt. Then she dropped the smile. ‘If we wanted to, we could cut you down right now.’

‘Perhaps, if you and your ship could survive a level eleven Fireball.’ My heart was beating fast, but my voice was steady.

A quick flick of her eyes towards Carlena. ‘We are here in peace and I am to offer you an alliance.’

She paused, expecting perhaps that I would now bring her to a room in the keep for our negotiations.

‘I’m listening.’ And I really was.

‘Very well, we’ll talk out here, in the wind.’ Injeborg’s long, red hair had several braids, but even so often streamed across her face. ‘Recently, King Olgrim had a meeting with King Cillian mac Gille Coemgáin of Rockguard and it did not go well. Knowing he has the stronger army, mac Gille Coemgáin tried to impose tribute on us. And due to adversity and the recent loss of our mines to the frost giants, our king would have agreed. Except that when it came to shaking hands on the agreement, mac Gille Coemgáin instead demanded King Olgrim kiss his foot.

‘This was in front of the courts of both realms. I was there. And our king said, “are you sure?” Mac Gille Coemgáin just laughed and said, “kiss it”, holding his foot out. “Well,” said King Olgrim, “it was your request.” And with that he grabbed the royal foot and being a big, strong bear of a man, turned Mac Gille Coemgáin upside down. While the ruler of Rockguard wriggled like a frog, King Olgrim kissed his foot, then dropped him on his head.’

‘As you can imagine, their courtiers did not take this well. And, to be brief, we are at war.’

I laughed. ‘I like the sound of King Olgrim. Very well. What do you want from us?’

‘Iron. We know you have mines.’

Iron again. I had been ramping production up as quickly as I could but perhaps I could do more. It clearly was a vital resource. Should I reassign people from other jobs? I’d ask Carlena about this later. It seemed that the power of the menus, whether divine or magic, gave the workers the appropriate skills in response to my decisions. But perhaps there would be a cost to reassigning someone, rather than using someone who was currently without a task.

‘And in return?’

‘Fish. Salted fish. Five units for each ingot of iron.’

Not as good an offer as from the necromancer but, still, food was food and I wanted it badly. Deliberately slowing down my heart, looking into the distance and the slow movements of the sea, I tried to make my next words as unconcerned as possible.

‘Using your own trading vessels?’

‘Yes.’

‘I’ll speak directly and to the point. For every seven units of fish, I’ll send you an ingot of iron. Right now, however, I’m very short of iron myself. In two weeks, though, I promise I’ll give you twenty if you return with a hundred and forty barrels of fish.’

She looked thoughtful. ‘I can shake hands with you now at six for one. Seven would need me to sail back to King Olgrim. And have you any iron to hand at all? We have barrels of fish with us now. Thirty of them.’

‘You use slaves up in Jomskar?’

‘We do.’

‘Then I can give you two iron ingots and about fifteen slaves for those thirty barrels.’ I was thinking of the four new iron ingots (possibly five) that I would have at dawn but even better of the chance to rid myself of some of the unwanted prisoners. The ones from Southway. I was still hoping to achieve peace with Trolland and their prisoners might be useful.

For a moment, there was a silence but for the waves, the seagulls and the creaking of their ship. I tried not to let my tension show, nor stare at the holds of their ship. We really needed those fish.

‘I will agree if our agreement is six units of fish for each iron ingot after this.’

I held out my hand and the jarl shook it with a very firm grip. Then she gave me a fierce look. ‘This trade is only the start. I can see you are a man who despite appearances is strong at heart. Soon, we will be comrades on the battlefield.’

‘Perhaps. I am already at war with two kingdoms, however, I make no promises about fighting Rockguard.’

‘I understand. Let’s drink all the same, to the trade agreement.’ Injeborg drew her knife and cut away the wax seal on the bottle. Then she offered the drink to me.

‘After you.’

With a laugh she took a large swig from the bottle, making sure I saw her swallow it. After which I did the same. It was fiery and sweet. Delicious. ‘Put one of those bottles into the trade will you,’ I said, passing it to Figus who held it for a moment distastefully, then took a modest mouthful and passed it on to Carlena.

Injeborg laughed again, white teeth flashing. She laughed easily and while aware that I might have been affected by her obviously high charisma, I had the thought that these people might indeed make good allies.