Belsden continued to suffer under the Dark Duke. His taxes were unbearable and his tactics for collecting them even worse. Night and day beggars lined the streets, though the passersby in truth had little or nothing to give them. Parents could not feed their children, and so the children often forgot about school and education and worked for food instead. The only ones that could afford anything were the ones that took things by brute force anyway: namely Rahavi’s Mad Mob and the Dark Duke’s Palace Guard.
But soon a problem arose.
Eventually, the kingdom’s condition got so bad, that there just wasn’t much more that the Dark Duke or his henchmen could take.
The scrawny, bald man, much to the Dark Duke’s dismay, would continue to bring reports of decreased production and revenue, to which the Dark Duke would react with either a fit of anger or a bout of laughter. But with the passing of time, the reaction seemed more and more to be a fit of anger; for the Dark Duke himself soon began to lose money, and that he couldn’t take, especially when the scrawny man suggested that he lower the taxes.
“Lower taxes?” the false king cried one day from his throne. “Why should I? Let them starve! It’s not less taxes we need…it’s more people!”
“But, Your Highness-”
“Quiet!” He rubbed his nails. “Get me Rahavi,” he said.
The scrawny man bowed.
A moment later, Rahavi entered the room.
“You wished to see me, Sire?” he asked.
The Dark Duke turned to him.
“I want you to gather the heads of the army and bring them here for a meeting. Also, prepare your Mad Mob – some roughing-up may be in order.”
Rahavi nodded. “It will be done.”
…………………………………………..
An hour later, the men that the Dark Duke had requested sat before him in the royal meeting room. The Dark Duke was on one end of the table, with Rahavi on the other, and six men in between. Behind the Dark Duke was a map of Europe, with the various borders and countries outlined and labeled with their various flags. By his side was a piece of arugula.
“Men,” he began, “I have come to a decision…” He cut off some arugula and shoved it into his mouth, “…In the past year, our revenues have consistently gone down, and it seems to me that there is little hope for the people of Belsden to ever recover them. Some have even suggested that I let-up and give in to the people’s demands and lower taxes…” He let-out a gentle chuckle. Some of the men, unsure of how to react, looked around the room. Slowly, though, they too began to chuckle, nodding and smiling. The Dark Duke got louder and they got louder as well, laughing almost hysterically until finally the Dark Duke slammed down his hand and brought it all to a sudden stop. “I nev-ER!…let…up.” There was silence. The Dark Duke surveyed each man in the room. “Instead,” he continued, “we will redirect ourselves: we will find more people.”
He got up and walked over to the map, taking the arugula knife with him.
“Directly to our north is the tiny country of Sarbury,” he said, pointing to it with the knife. “As you all know, it is a small and powerless country, though very well populated.” He spun round, a diabolical grin affixed to his face. “So ripe for the taking.” Poking another piece of arugula into his mouth, he said, “Prepare your men. We move on Sarbury in one week.”
Nobody spoke. They all stared at the Dark Duke in awe.
He continued: “Begin making your preparations immediately. You will receive the rest of your orders tomorrow…after your men have been assembled.” He looked around at the awe-stricken faces. “Dismissed.”
The men stood and began to file out. Rahavi sat with his hand to his chin.
“Is Sarbury all you desire?” he inquired in confidence, once all the others were gone.
“Ra-ha-vi,” the Dark Duke sang, “I’m surprised at you. Do you think I’d be so modest? I mean, there’s always Monastero and then, of course…Dermer.”
“And then?” Rahavi asked.
“And then…” the Dark Duke said, “…who knows?”
Rahavi couldn’t help but marvel.
…………………………………………..
Farv was a stern and vicious man; ruthless; known to be able to kill a man and then dine over his corpse. He had been head of the Dark Duke’s tax collecting force back when the Dark Duke was a duke, and it was then that he had truly gained his reputation for utter viciousness, often beating and torturing to the point of death, and never did he show remorse. Even those around him were hesitant to confront him; for his eyes alone (cold and gray, matched in heartlessness only by those of the Dark Duke) could pierce through you like a sword through paper. There was no mercy behind those eyes; only hate and cruelty and scorn. They shot out from his dark visage and could dart straight through the eyes of any other and down into the heart.
His body was long and strong, with tremendous biceps and shoulders. Many years of struggle had left him with something to be proud of, though he seemed to take little notice of his appearance. His face was rugged and usually only half-shaven, his cheeks worn and scarred. Truly, he had a frightening appearance, and certainly he knew it and reveled in it. He reveled in fear; for fear was an asset; inspiring fear in others was often his greatest weapon, and he wielded it to all.
After the Dark Duke had become king, Farv was the obvious choice to head the royal forces, known collectively as the Palace Guard. And so the Dark Duke had appointed him Commander General, second to only the Dark Duke himself. All other generals reported to him.
His shrewd intellect and his cold heart made him the perfect choice. Farv was a strong leader and a strict disciplinarian, and he made certain that the Guard was nothing less than an elite killing machine, much like he himself. The Dark Duke recognized Farv as his fiercest and most merciless warrior - a savage, but a savage with a sharp mind for strategy and order.
It was he that would lead the largest brigade during the invasion. The Dark Duke had shared his intentions with Farv long before any of the others, and Farv, always loyal, always obedient, and always willing to kill, had listened and, of course, condoned them. Sarbury was an easy target, he felt, that would bring much reward. Its army was small and weak, and he was certain that he would easily overtake them. “Give me twenty-four hours,” he had told the Dark Duke, “and I will give you all of Sarbury.”
Farv’s brigade was to hit Sarbury from the south. Three other brigades, one from the west and two from the southeast, would attack first, then Farv would move in with the larger force. It should take less than a day, he told himself, for Sarbury is no match for me.
…………………………………………..
Farv brought the scope to his eye and looked out over the hillside. Behind him were a dozen men, also on horseback, patiently awaiting his command.
He surveyed the area.
“Should be soon now,” he said.
Nobody spoke. For a while, not a sound could be heard save for the passing wind and the grumbling of the horses. Farv twitched his thumbs. He put the scope to his side and looked out toward the horizon. For a moment he thought of proceeding despite, but he soon decided against; for the Dark Duke had left explicit instructions. Then, suddenly, he heard the sound of horse hooves. He grabbed up the scope and gazed out. Two men, Guardsmen, clad in chain link and wearing red uniforms bearing the Palace seal, were steadfastly approaching. Farv handed the scope to one of his lieutenants, as the two men came to a halt before him.
“Sir Farv,” one of them began.
“Speak!” he ordered.
The man swallowed and caught his breath.
“The attack has begun.”
Farv waved him off. He turned and motioned to his men, who, upon his signal, quickly dispersed and took their places before their regiments. He kicked his horse and trotted out in front.
“On my command!” he hollered.
The savage man drew out his sword and pointed it toward Sarbury.
Nobody moved.
Silence filled the air.
“Chaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaarrrrrrrggggggeeeeee!!!!!!”
Chapter 11
An Attack