Chapter 14
Biltzen stretched slowly. He was tired. Very tired. Biltzen was a farmer in the southern regions of Dachwald, and he was getting up at dawn, as usual, to begin working on his farm. A large pot of coffee sat brewing over the fireplace, to which he walked to see if it was hot enough yet to drink. Seeing that it was, he poured himself a large amount into a massive mug and began sipping it slowly, savoring every sip.
“Mmmhh,” he muttered, breaking the quiet in the room. He closed his eyes, still feeling sleepy, and waited for the coffee to produce its much-needed effects. He continued sipping it slowly and finally finished the entire mug. He put on a pair of overalls and some boots and set off towards the door to begin his daily chores.
Although he owned the farm and had plenty of hired hands to assist him, he still preferred to get out there and get dirty right alongside them. Typically, he was the first to begin. As he opened the door, his heart nearly stopped beating inside his chest. There he stood, motionless, for at least twenty seconds, his brain refusing to believe what his eyes were reporting to it.
“KASANIIIIIIIIIIIII!!!!!!!!” he yelled out furiously at the top of his lungs. His fields had been desolated.
His eyes incredulously surveyed what just yesterday had been rolling, lush fields of grain, rice, corn, coffee, tobacco, and many other crops, and what were now dead, lifeless, decomposing brown remnants. Not sure quite what to expect, he walked back inside the house and grabbed a large crossbow. He then set off through the fields, surveying the damage. His dog, now excited by his master’s alarm, got up and started barking loudly, anxious to know what its master had been so disturbed by and barking furiously as if to let his master know he was also furious, even if he didn’t know why. Biltzen continued traipsing through the fields, flabbergasted by the damage. Never had he seen anything like this. On the one hand, the damage looked like it might have simply been due to a disease the plants had caught, but he quickly ruled out that possibility. He had been farming all his life and was very knowledgeable about plants. He had never seen or even heard of a plant disease that could take effect so suddenly. Over the course of months, certainly; over a period of weeks, maybe; but overnight, never. This had to have been the intentional work of someone who wanted to destroy his crops. The perpetrators must have thrown some awful kind of poison all over his crops, but he couldn’t begin to think of how they could have done so on such a large scale. This would have required hundreds of men, each with bucketfuls of poison, throwing it left and right like snow in a snowball fight. Surely, his watch dog, or that of one of his hired hands, would have been awakened and alerted him if so many people had been walking through his fields at night. As for footprints, there were plenty of them, but there was no way to know if they were from the vandals or his farmhands. The fields were usually full of footprints this time of year.
He noticed that no vegetation on his property was damaged except that which was edible. His rose bushes were fine. His grass was fine. The trees were fine. Everything was fine except for his actual crops. For a second, his angry mind considered the possibility his farmhands had been disenchanted about something and had done this. After all, they had full access to his crops. But he quickly ruled that out. He paid them decent wages and had never had any serious problems with any of them. Furthermore, these fields were their source of livelihood as well. Without them, they would starve.
(without them . . . you’ll starve)
He quickly brushed that thought aside angrily. He fixed problems. Problems didn’t fix him. And he quickly returned to his analysis of who might have done this and how this vandalism could affect his farmhands. Not only would they be without food, he would not be able to pay them. No, it couldn’t have been them. This was the work of an organized group of thugs—which gang, however, he had no clue. There weren’t many gangs in Dachwald, at least that he could think of. Plus, most gangs he had heard of preferred to rob people. He had never heard of a gang that took an interest in damaging crops. He thought hard but couldn’t figure out who would benefit. Wild teenagers? This was too much work for them. He’d been one himself once, and he knew teenage mischief. Crapping on a front porch, stealing a stash of whiskey from your best friend’s dad and drinking until you puked your guts out, or sneaking into a window at night to spend a little unsupervised time with a farmer’s daughter. His mind briefly started to try and remember which of these sins he had long ago committed, but he quickly shut it off. No, whoever did this job had been up all night, and even the most spiteful of teenagers would have lost steam after poisoning the first row of plants. No, this was a good job someone had done.
He quickly ruled out the possibility of a rival farmer. There was no surplus of crops that would make another farmer desperate enough to destroy another’s crops so that his would be sure to sell.
Biltzen started walking upstairs to alert his wife to the situation. His wife, Gretten, was already running down the stairs, having heard him screaming.
“Dear, what in the world has happened?!” she asked.
Between curses and shouts he managed to tell her what he knew, which wasn’t a lot, and she then set off to see for herself. She turned pale and felt knots in her stomach as the horrible scene revealed itself to her.
By this time there were hundreds of farmhands walking around, ashen with shock, surveying the horrific damage.
Biltzen turned to his spouse, “Gretten, I must go to Milfred’s fields and see if he’s suffered similar damage.”
They kissed goodbye, and Biltzen then went to the barn, mounted his fastest horse, and set off for Milfred’s, looking like a sheriff on a mission to catch a gang of notorious bank robbers. Mixed feelings raced through his mind as he approached Milfred’s fields and saw the horrendous damage. A small part of him was secretly relieved he wasn’t the only one who had suffered, but for the most part he felt sad seeing Milfred’s loss. As he approached Milfred’s home, he saw Milfred staring incredulously at the damage before him.
“There must have been hundreds of the scoundrels. Maybe THOUSANDS of ‘em! They must have been out all night destroying my crops with some horrendous poison. I’m ruined!” Milfred said to himself.
“Milfred!” Biltzen yelled as he approached.
Milfred turned and saw his friend approaching.
“Look at what some unholy sons of Kasani did to my crops! I’ll fill ‘em full of arrows if I find ‘em,” he yelled at Biltzen.
“They got my crops too! I thought for sure I was the only one, but I can see I was wrong!”
“Who possibly could’ve done this?! Why would anyone do this?! This is madness!”
“I don’t know either,” said Biltzen; “I think we need to ride to some of our other neighbors’ farms and see if the vandals stopped by to say hello there as well.”
“I’ll say!” Milfred replied.
They set off towards Sinizen’s fields, which bordered Milfred’s. They arrived after about an hour of hard riding and saw similar devastation. Unfortunately, Sinizen wasn’t there, but his wife, Gladsen, was, and she informed them he had ridden off to check on his neighbors’ fields.
“This’s so awful,” Gladsen sobbed; “almost everything’s ruined. What’re we gonna eat?”
“I don’t know,” Biltzen said, “but you’re welcome to what we have.”
“Thank you,” she replied, “and you’re welcome to the little food that we have remaining. In fact, you must be hungry after all of that riding. Please, let me fix you something to eat,” she said.
“We greatly appreciate the offer,” Biltzen said, “but we really must hurry. We need to go to Castle Dachwald and report this crime. However, perhaps if you could give us a glass of water and some bread to take with us, we would be immensely grateful.”
“My pleasure,” she responded.
Gladsen led them into the house, wiping the tears away from her
eyes as she walked. She gave them a cold glass of water and some bread for their journey.
“You know,” she said, “if you’re gonna travel all the way to Castle Dachwald, you’re gonna have to camp at least one night, if not two, on your way there. Please, Milfred, you must take a sword with you and a bow and arrow. You never know what kinds of ruffians you might come across at night. In fact, I’ll have some of the farmhands go with you. There’s safety in numbers, and although they certainly aren’t warriors, they know some of the basics of swordsmanship. You’ll be at least a little bit safer if you go with them.”
“Agreed,” Milfred replied, “but we must hurry.”
“Certainly,” she responded. “Wait here.”
Gladsen went outside and then returned about a half hour later.
“I’ve gathered ten men to accompany you on your journey,” she said.
Milfred and Biltzen looked at the farmhands. She had spoken the truth when she said they weren’t warriors, but, then again, neither were they.
“They’ll do,” Biltzen said.
Each of the ten farmhands had a sword with him.
“We must leave immediately for Dachwald. We’ll alert the city officials and find out how widespread the damage is,” he continued.
The twelve men got on their horses and began the fifty-mile journey to Dachwald, which lay roughly north-northeast of their current location. As they rode along the road, they saw almost nothing but damaged crops.
“They, who ever they may be, are going to pay dearly for this!” Filzgor, one of the ten farmhands, growled.
As they rode their horses along the road, they saw many people standing out in their yards overlooking the damage as though they were observing the handiwork of a hurricane. They talked to some of them along the way as they traveled and were asked by several people, as they plodded along the road, whether they had suffered any damages or if they were just passersby. They mentioned their losses briefly and told them they were on their way to Castle Dachwald to see if a militia or posse could be organized to catch and hang the perpetrators from the nearest, and, preferably tallest, available tree.
As they got closer to Castle Dachwald, they saw less disarray and started to consider the possibility that maybe the damage hadn’t been so widespread after all. By mid-afternoon of the next day, they could see Castle Dachwald off in the distance.
Towers jutted into the air. Battlements stretched out endlessly in the horizon, offering an intimidating display of power to anyone approaching. Although most of them had seen Castle Dachwald several times before, they never ceased to be amazed each time their eyes surveyed this awesome fortress. Its defenses had not been tested for centuries, but they were still there nonetheless. Waiting. The fortress itself was located on top of a large hill, and it towered above the low valley that surrounded it like a giant standing in a shallow stream.
In the valley small villages and military checkpoints dotted the large landscape like randomly planted shrubs in a large lawn. The city officials and most of the soldiers lived in the fortress itself; everyone else lived in the surrounding small towns, like servants not privileged enough to sleep in their master’s house. Small dirt roads connected each of the towns in the large, beautiful valley like intricate threads of a large spider web. Even from afar, signs of life and movement could be detected. Wagons being pulled by horses, peddling small commodities. People tending their gardens. Others working sweatily in blacksmith shops. Still others in taverns. All completely oblivious to the wave of mysterious destruction that had crashed onto the large southern farms.
Biltzen, Milfred, and the other ten were dead tired by this time from the horseback riding, but they were no less focused on their mission than they had been when they first started out on their journey. Anger is a powerful energizer, whatever the poets may say about love. As they descended into the valley, their stern faces spoke to all onlookers: Stay the Kasani away from us.
They listened.
As the group began to get close to the gate, several Dachwaldian soldiers approached them.
“I’ll handle this,” Biltzen said, and moved his horse to the front of the group.
Biltzen was slightly wealthier than Milfred, and his name was more recognized throughout Dachwald, so he had the best chance of winning entry into the castle.
“Halt,” the soldier commanded.
The twelve stopped, Biltzen at the head of the group. The soldier had on a helmet, a short sword, and steel boots with sharp points on the end. His helmet left most of his face exposed, but a narrow piece of steel descended from the top of the helmet to protect his nose. Chain mail armor covered his upper torso, arms, even his hands.
“What business have you here?” he demanded gruffly.
“I am Biltzen, landowner of one of the largest farms in the southern regions of Dachwald. Nearly all of my crops were destroyed overnight. Exactly what caused the destruction . . . I don’t know. Milfred here also owns a large amount of land; his crops were nearly completely decimated. He also doesn’t know what caused this destruction, although we both know it must have been the work of a large, determined group of hooligans or worse. On our way here, we passed dozens upon dozens of badly damaged large farms. These ten farmhands here with me work on the farm of Sinizen, whose lands lie adjacent to those of Milfred; the crops on the lands of their master were also nearly completely annihilated. We demand justice!! Now open the gate so we can talk to someone whose rank is high enough to organize a unit to track down and destroy the vandals!!”
The soldier’s face betrayed his shock. He had been in the Vechengschaft for about three years, and the most action he had seen consisted of breaking up a few minor brawls in the local taverns and dealing with the occasional bear or wolves that came too close to the area for comfort.
He began to stammer slightly, and then simply said, “Wait here.”
He walked over to a group of soldiers next to the large fortress gate, saluting as he got closer. The face of the soldier he was speaking to looked skeptical as he listened. That’s a good one! it seemed to say. At the end of their conversation, punctuated by several hand gestures in the direction of the twelve, the higher-ranking soldier said a few final words, walked into the fortress, and disappeared.
Biltzen was growing impatient.
About twenty minutes later—which seemed like an eternity—the soldier returned to the open gate and motioned them to come forward. They got back on their horses and headed towards the gate. When they arrived, the soldier said gruffly, “Just you two,” pointing at Milfred and Biltzen; “the others stay here. You, dismount.”
Milfred and Biltzen dismounted and followed the soldier. As they did so, a group of ten soldiers began to follow them, standing on either side of Milfred and Biltzen. The interior of the castle was as awe-inspiring as its exterior. Maybe more so.
Neither Milfred nor Biltzen had been inside before. Typically non-military and non-political personnel weren’t allowed in.
They walked towards a building about thirty feet tall made of stone. On the outside, above the door entrance, was a large coat of arms. The soldier approached the door and knocked. After a gruff “Come in,” the soldier opened the door and led Milfred and Biltzen inside.
The soldier that had been leading them did not merely salute, but dropped to one knee and faced the ground as he addressed the officer: “Captain, these are the two men.”
Biltzen and Milfred immediately followed suit, not rising until the soldier did the same.
Addressing Biltzen and Milfred, he said, “My name is Mindgkor, and I am a captain in the Vechengschaft. I have heard your names; they say you are two of the largest producers of agriculture in our great country. I’m very sad to hear of the horrible attack you two have suffered. As you may know, however, the Vechengschaft is severely understaffed, as it has been for some time, owing in la
rge part to the pacifistic feelings among the Dachwaldians. Some question the need for the Vechengschaft altogether. I fear my commanding officer would not permit me to award you more than a dozen soldiers. Without proof of a large number of farms having been attacked, I wouldn’t be authorized to dispatch a unit of troops much larger than that.”
“Sir,” Biltzen began, “whatever number of troops you can provide will be highly appreciated. But it looks like most or maybe all of the farms in the south have been utterly destroyed or at least have suffered severe damage. Most farmers and farmhands Milfred and I passed on our journey here informed us they had seen no gradual build-up of damage but had simply woke up this mornin’ to find their crops annihilated. This was my experience as well. Yesterday, my crops was just as pretty as ever. Today, I wake up and find ‘em all rotted to hell. I’ve seen diseases hit crops before, but not this quick. No way. Whoever did this deal . . . there must’ve been thousands of ‘em. Just where in Kasani thousands of rascals came from to poison our crops is beyond me, but they came from somewhere. One thing that seems for sure though was they must’ve thought they wasn’t gonna suffer for what they done. Do you see what I’m drivin’ at? It had to be foreigners. Dachwaldians ain’t gonna do that ‘cuz if they did, how’re they gonna eat?! I’m afraid that if you provide us with just a dozen-or-so soldiers we might catch the vandals, but bringin’ ‘em before the law would be a whole ’nother story.”
“With all due respect to you, Biltzen, I can’t dispatch more than a dozen troops without direct authority from my general. And my general is going to demand more than than your and Milfred’s word of just how widespread the damage is for me to be able to dispatch more than a dozen soldiers. I’m very sorry. Perhaps if more people arrive from the southern provinces that can vouch for the extent of the damage, more troops will be deployed, but even then, I couldn’t guarantee it. I’ll leave the decision up to you: Either I can deploy twelve of my finest soldiers right now to help you hunt down these rascals and bring them to justice, or you can wait and see if more people arrive that can verify your story and thus enable me to obtain permission to deploy more soldiers. Many of the Vechengschaft would like to see some action, but I must justify it to my superiors.”
Biltzen took in Mindgkor’s words carefully. Biltzen was a man of action, and he hated the thought of dillydallying while these rogues made their way back to safety. But he also didn’t like the idea of confronting a thousand men with Milfred, ten farmhands, and a dozen troops. His eyes narrowed slightly as he mulled over the dilemma.
“Captain, might I have a few words alone with Milfred?”
“Certainly,” he replied. “I’ll wait for you here.”
Milfred and Biltzen stepped outside.
“What do you think?” Biltzen asked Milfred.
“I’m not sure. I’m especially not sure why we are the only ones here! Given the damage we’ve seen, there must be hundreds, if not thousands, of landowners and farmhands absolutely enraged by now! Where in Ifindgall are they?!”
“Perhaps they’ll arrive soon. After all, we did leave immediately after seein’ the damage. Perhaps we got here first. Perhaps others ain’t too far behind.”
“One thing’s for sure: while a dozen soldiers are sure better than none, they wouldn’t do much good against a thousand men! Perhaps we can wait a day, and if no one else has arrived, just accept the dozen soldiers; however, I say we wait to see if more people start tricklin’ in. That way, we can hunt these rascals and be ready for a scrap if need be,” Milfred responded.
“Agreed. We’ll wait a day and see what happens.”
They both walked back into Captain Mindgkor’s office and told him.
As they were stepping out of the doorway, they heard a low rumbling sound.
It sounded like a herd of horses’ hooves striking the ground. The sound was low and faint, but increasing steadily in volume. Biltzen, Milfred, and Captain Mindgkor walked hurriedly out of the castle to see what was going on.
In the horizon, a tremendous dust cloud was forming.
BOOM-BOOM, BOOM-BOOM, BOOM-BOOM! went the sound methodically and rhythmically like a distant drummer playing a steady tune.
Several of the Vechengschaft immediately began scurrying about and shouting orders, while others sprinted inside the castle. One soldier, perched high on a battlement and looking out into the horizon through a long telescope shouted, “TO THE CASTLE!! TO THE CASTLE!!”
Seconds later a large GONGGGGG . . . GONGGGGGG . . . GONGGGGG could be heard echoing throughout the valley. The sound came from a large tower in which a 240-pound hulk of a man pounded a gong with a hammer so large most men would have been proud to lift it off the ground, never mind swinging it. The sound reverberated loud enough to make one feel it was his head being hit with the hammer, perhaps an act of revenge by the large gong for the unspeakable abuse it was enduring at the hands of its cruel chastiser.
Screams echoed throughout the valley. Frightened, panic-stricken screams. Screams rarely heard in this tranquil locale. For most of the people in the valley, this was the first time that they had ever been summoned to flee to the castle, except for an occasional drill, always announced weeks in advance.
Surrounding the castle were numerous curtain walls, and an invader would have to survive the merciless torrent of arrows, stones, fire, and boiling liquid that would be cast upon him without quarter whilst piercing these defenses before reaching the innermost wall, which stood even taller and was still better defended, making the successful conquest of Castle Dachwald an endeavor legenday in its futility.
There were several underground tunnels the Dachwaldians could use to traverse these walls underground and reach the heart of the castle, a mile-long journey. The tunnels eventually joined together, leading to a single hundred-foot tunnel at the end of which lay the entrance to the heart of the castle itself. All tunnels were heavily guarded by elite Vechengschaft soldiers, but the hundred-foot final stretch leading to the heart of the castle was teeming with elite soldiers during even the most peaceful of times, all of whom were ready to give their life in defense of that corridor. In the event of an enemy invasion, Dachwaldian citizens knew they had to enter the castle without delay because by the time an enemy army got within a mile of the castle, Vechengschaft troops stationed inside the tunnels would seal all external entrances with a wall of eight-inch-thick steel whose surface was so skillfully covered vegetation matching its surroundings that enemy soldiers would have little chance of discovering it and less chance of ever penetrating it.
In the event an enemy ever did pierce this subterranean labyrinth, a large wheel inside the castle courtyard measuring twenty feet in diameter would be turned by ten of the most stalwart soldiers, opening a series of underground doors that would divert a river directly into the tunnels, quickly flooding them and trapping in a watery prison any so unfortunate as to be there. In the event the breach was discovered when the enemy were close to the heart of the castle, a lever could be pulled exposing tiny openings across the final door, and through these would be poured the foulest of acids, whose effects were so immediate and so painful that the ensuing screams of even the most hated enemy could bring a shudder to a brave man’s heart.
After about twenty minutes, most of the Dachwaldians had managed to go through the numerous underground passageway entrances and were pouring into the castle courtyard. By this time, the sound of the approaching hooves was much louder, the formless shapes of the men comprising the dust cloud starting to become clearer.
A mile away and closing.
“Close the tunnels!” shouted Captain Mindgkor. A bugler promptly trumpeted his command, and the external entrances were all promptly sealed.
The soldier who was perched on top of the battlement with the telescope saw something strange. These didn’t look like enemy invaders. They looked like Dachwaldians. The gonging had ceased upon the closure of the tunnel
entrances. Most of the Dachwaldians from the surrounding area had long ago gotten the message and entered them, and those still inside the tunnels were scrambling like a large family of mice fleeing an army of cats. Those that had not already entered the tunnels were on their own. He descended the stairs alongside the wall as quickly as he could and approached Captain Mindgkor. “Captain, I could be wrong, but this doesn’t look like an enemy invasion. They look like Dachwaldians.”
“We’ll keep the gate and tunnel entrances sealed,” Captain Mindgkor responded, “until we’re sure of their motives and who they are. Send a group of men to the front gate of the first walled enclosure and find out what this mob wants. And take Milfred and Biltzen with you; perhaps they’ll know some of these men.”
“Yes, sir,” the soldier replied.
He, Milfred, and Biltzen walked through the gates of the curtain walls and finally arrived at the front gate. The large mob of people descending upon the castle looked like a tsunami approaching a beach, and as it did so the faces of the people became clearer and clearer. When the mob was about thirty feet away, Biltzen saw someone he was almost sure he knew, but he couldn’t make the man’s face out. Then, suddenly, Milfred said, “By Kasani, that’s Sinizen, my neighbor!!”
“JUSTICE! JUSTICE! JUSTICE AND REVENGE! WE DEMAND BOTH OR THESE WALLS WILL BE CAVED IN! JUSTICE! JUSTICE! JUSTICE AND REVENGE! WE DEMAND BOTH OR THESE WALLS WILL BE CAVED IN!”
The mob continued shouting this chant in unison like a trained choir, armed only with words but ready in spirit to take on the mighties of foes.
“We better go speak to Captain Mindgkor quickly!” Milfred said and dashed back to the main castle wall, his sword clanking against his leg armor.
“Captain Mindgkor, I’d say enough farmers from the southern regions of Dachwald have arrived for your superior officer to not only permit you more troops, but to give you the whole damn army!!”
“But this mob must be destroyed; it is threatening the castle!” Captain Mindgkor responded, his eyes darting about, hoping that Milfred would finish talking so he could begin ordering his men to attack.
“Captain . . . sir, with all due respect, I believe you misunderstand: This is no mob. These are our countrymen. They’re simply here to demand justice. They have no idea what’s happened. I’m sure if they’re informed the Vechengschaft is willing to deploy troops for hunting down the rascals that have ransacked our countryside, they’ll quickly become much more reasonable.”
“Act quickly,” Captain Mindgkor returned. “My duty is to protect this castle. If this mob of ruffians isn’t pacified within minutes, I’ll have my longbowmen turn them into flaming pincushions.”
Milfred ran back towards the front gate. By this time, the mob was already there and was beginning to pound on the door. There was a small opening on the door to allow defending crossbowmen to shoot at people using a battering ram or otherwise trying to break the door down. He could see Sinizen through the door.
“SINIZEEEEEEN!!!” he shouted through the door, “Calm this mob down, or you’re all gonna have so many arrows sticking through you you won’t touch the ground when you fall!!”
“Milfred??!” Sinizen could see Milfred’s face through the large gate.
“Yes, it’s me. Now will you please calm these rioters down!!”
Sinizen turned around: “QUIEEETTTT!!”
The roar of voices was reduced to a low rumble, like a bad thunderstorm that had done its worst and was on the verge of dissipating altogether.
“Speak quickly,” Sinizen said. “I don’t know how much longer I can control them.”
The sincerity in his tone was chilling.
“Sinizen, I know why you’re here. For the same reason I’m here . . . for the same reason Biltzen’s here, for the same reason that ten of your best farmhands are here: our farms—our livelihood—have been completely demolished.”
“I wondered where those ten lazy louts were; I thought maybe they were in on this!”
“Don’t be silly. Biltzen first came to my place, and then we went to your home to see if your farm had been attacked. Your wife informed us you’d already gone off to check on another farm. Knowing it was a long journey to the castle, she asked ten of your farmhands to accompany us, just in case we ran into trouble. Look, we can talk about all of that later; the bottom line is the captain here—his name’s Mindgkor—was already willing to give us up to twelve of his best troops simply on the basis of my and Biltzen’s word, but he told me his superior officer wouldn’t let him have more than that unless more farmers came and vouched for the extent of the damage. It’s wonderful you all came, but you’ve got to calm down, or, instead of helping you, the Vechengschaft is gonna cut you to shreds!!”
“Very well,” Sinizen replied; “how many of us will they permit into the castle?”
“I’ll find out. In the meantime, shut this mob up!”
Without waiting for Sinizen’s response, he and Biltzen dashed back towards Captain Mindgkor, but as they began to do so, they saw that he was already coming their way. As they got closer, he said, “The mob is quieting down—what have you learned?”
“Sir,” Milfred replied, “it’s alright. They’re just mad as Ifindgall because all of their crops have been destroyed, which is understandable enough. Now, you promised you’d deploy more men if more people from the south showed up and confirmed the damage. Well, for Kasani’s sake, I think this oughta be enough for you to dispatch the whole army!”
“Bring me twenty of the wealthiest farmers from the crowd. I want them to vouch to my superior officer that the damage has indeed happened. You can rest assured a large number of the Vechengscaft will be dispatched if they can do so. This could mean war. Hurry!”
Milfred and Biltzen brought in twenty of the richest farmers through the gate and walked into the castle. By the time they got there, Captain Mindgkor was already with his superior officer, Colonel Mechwalgden.
After the twenty farmers vouched for the damage, they were excused so that Colonel Mechwalgden and Captain Mindgkor could discuss the military’s response. The colonel looked at Captain Mindgkor hard. “I’ll give you two thousand troops. This is the most I can give. Go and explain this to the rabble outside. I’ll discuss this with my general, and we’ll have the force assembled and ready by dawn tomorrow. Rest assured we’ll soon know who did this, and the perpetrators will be hanging like ornaments from trees all over the country side of Dachwald. The farmers and their farmhands will all spend the night in the castle to eat and recover from their long journey. Tomorrow, I need them all to return to their homes tomorrow so they can do their best to harvest what little of their crops remains.”
He then turned around sharply and walked towards one of the castle towers.
Captain Mindgkor went and informed the masses of the news. Their mood was slightly elevated by it. It seemed the Vechengschaft was taking this matter very seriously. Little did they know just how seriously.
General Sivingdon, the supreme general of the Vechengschaft, addressed Colonel Mechwalgden and Captain Mindgkor: “Do you know what this means?! FAMINE! At least seventy-five percent of our nation’s food is produced in the south. If the intelligence you’ve gathered is accurate, it appears nearly all food production in the south has been destroyed. The people in the northern regions produce a sufficient amount of food to feed themselves, but the excess that they have would only be enough to provide the southerners starvation rations. Either that or the whole country will have to go on wartime rations. Otherwise, the people in the south will likely become so hungry and angry civil war will break out! We can’t let this happen. The pacifistic feelings in Dachwald already make us an extremely vulnerable target for our enemies. We must find the perpetrators and punish them viciously and publicly. If they’re foreigners, we’ll declare limited war on the country they came from, unless they promptly compensat
e us for the comestible and financial damages we’ve incurred and hand over the perpetrators to us unconditionally. I would be in favor of launching a total war to send a stern warning to never consider attacking us again! Of course . . . that would be difficult.
“As you know, the constitution only permits a total war if the military, senate, and King Duchenwald are all in agreement. This would be extraordinarily difficult, although perhaps this situation might make it feasible. I’ll make the king aware of the situation and let him know the high number of troops I’ve authorized to track down the perpetrators. Fortunately, I don’t need authorization as long as we don’t cross any foreign borders. We’ll simply have to wait and see what we find: if this was the work of traitors in our midst or an attacker from afar. We’ll know soon enough.”
The officers nodded. They realized this was without question going to be the biggest military operation on which they had embarked thus far in their military careers and could be the most significant operation on which they would ever embark. This was their shot at medals, promotions, glory, the right to tell lavishly enhanced stories of bravery to anyone they could get to listen over large cups of cold ale until they were so old going to the bathroom would be a quest in and of itself. They prepared to discuss with their subordinate officers the planning of the operation. For most of the remainder of the night, they reviewed the upcoming operation. Faces drooped over maps like spectators analyzing a close chess match. As they did so, the Dachwaldian farmers and farmhands slept. No chessboards for them to worry about. No positioning, flanking, ensnaring tactics to review. Just sleep. Deep, dreamless sleep.