How do you invade someone else's land with but a few villagers?
You start small.
Settling on the bandit village is just the beginning. With this small settlement as a springboard, I can then invade human lands. I say 'invade', but it is neither for occupying land nor taking hostage of the land, but for revenge.
My goal stays the same.
However, now, a different motivation rouses in my heart. My desire of avenging my mother stays the same. But on top of that, a bunch of other stuff is piling up. My sincerity to help my fellow elves just gets stronger by the day.
It has been just a day since occupying the bandit village, yet I have work already piling up for me.
I sit by my 'office' and examine all sorts of documents. I say office, but it is actually just the refurbished bed chamber of the bandit boss. I have a nice oak desk, a comfortable chair, and even some paintings I don't know where did my fellow elves find it.
In my hands are inventories of all kinds of goods courtesy of the merchant sitting before me. Wisley the merchant is fidgeting a lot, and I cannot blame him for that. Maybe to his eyes, we elves are a lot worse than the bandits.
At least in the hands of bandits, the captive human prisoners would still have some hope from their distant families who can pay their ransom. These humans however don't need to be so fearfully obvious. I have plenty of uses for them.
Wisley the merchant is a portly man, his belly is bulging outwards, but despite that, he seems quite healthy to me. Though being 'fat' is an indicator of corruption and many other things in the feudal era, Wisley seems like a hearty man.
This is their story. From the further and more distant west where their merchant caravan comes from, is an empire that desires all sorts of novel things. The empire nobility has a thing for the antique and craftsmanship of the demi-humans, thus giving Wisley the idea of coming to the Lorekleim Forest where the most peaceful demi-human races reside— the elves.
Unfortunately for him, we elves of Lorekleim are no longer peaceful.
I shuffle on the documents before me until I arrive at the document detailing the work experiences of Wisley's caravan crew.
"Wisley, I have work for you and your crew… It is a very easy job considering their work experiences…"
"What is it? Your majesty?" Wisley respectfully asks me.
I think of this Wisley character quite highly as despite his nervousness, he was able to quickly adapt around me. For him to realize I am a 'King' from our brief interactions is incredible on its own. As to how 'lowly' the elves are… It is unbelievably ridiculous that they are even capable of having a King.
"This is what is going to happen, Wisley. I understand that you have a son, and he is among your caravan members…"
At the mention of his son, Wisley tightens his fist. I fear he might just attack me, and I dare not underestimate a father's love for his child. Wisley might not look like a fighter, but he has the weight advantage. I look beside me and see Zeraya casually cutting her nails with her dagger while rocking her chair.
She sure is so chill. I envy her.
I proceed with my words at my own pace, ignoring the human Wisley's feelings.
"I want you Wisley to trade for me. If there is something I want, you will get it for me. If there is something I want to sell, you will sell it for me. My close friend here Zeraya will be your bodyguard for the duration of your work as a representative merchant for me… What I wish from you is quite simple… You work for me, in exchange, we will take care of your blood kin, and fellow caravaneers with respect as per should a prisoner deserve…"
"And my crew?"
"I will offer them work too. I want your cook, carpenter, poet, and accountant to teach my kin the trade of the craft. I'd really love for your personal poet to teach the elven youth how to read and write. I will have your crew sent to Lorekleim Forest to teach the elves of this human knowledge. In exchange for their work, I will make sure they are fed well, and treated well."
I finish my dialogue with Wisley in a non-negotiable manner. He is my prisoner, yet he still possesses his free will. I cannot force him to work for me. My blackmail of him will only be effective in a short time, thus necessitating that I make quick work of my revenge.
I have a time limit, and a deadline to meet.
"I will give you time, so go and discuss it among your kind."
I shoo Wisley away, and when finally he is no longer in my sight. I relax my shoulders a bit. I slump on my chair and as usual, I do my contemplations on silence.
This bandit village surely is rich. Except for the recent caravan's loot, there are also some treasures that are worth a lot. At least according to Zeraya's estimate, we have gold that can buy us the title of honorary baron. Not that we elves have use of it.
I slant on my seat and look at Zeraya.
"Hey… How are you doing?"
Zeraya frowns and stops playing with her dagger.
"What do you mean? Are you worried about my human bloodline, and perhaps you think I feel pity for these monsters?"
That's Zeraya for you. Always a step ahead. I fake a laugh and brush it aside. "I shouldn't be worried about you. You are Zeraya! No one else!"
Zeraya frowns more. What is her problem? She doesn't want me to meddle with her, but I feel I just disappointed her. I am too busy anyway. I will just leave her on her own.
I rise on my chair and come out from the cabin.
The night raid was successful. We didn't receive any casualties which even now feels like a dream to me. The nine old coots are especially strong as I see them from a distance doing chores. Some were chopping wood, and some playing with their newly acquired steel weapons.
I really mean it when I say the bandits were rich. The steel weapons we recently had were actually and stupidly put in decoration in the walls and glass panes like it was some treasure in the bandit boss's bed chamber.
With these steel weapons, we have better chances in this war.
Come to think of it, it seems that Trudviar's sword is not simply of steel. We did some durability tests from weapon to weapon and it is quite a revelation when we realize that under the right conditions, Trudviar's curved elven sword can even cut steel.
It would be a great boon for us elves if we learn the secret to Trudviar's weapon.
I hatefully look at the bunch of documents in front of me. I glare at the local map, and the quill idly laying on my side.
"I deserve a rest, right?" I am asking no one in particular, so it wouldn't hurt to take it easy just for a moment.
It wouldn't hurt... to have just a simple nice stroll. With lithe steps as if free from the burdens of the world, I carry on my rare stroll. I arrive by where we keep the human prisoners. We did free some of them from their iron cages to clean the bloody mess that was the result of the dead and fallen elves.
The human prisoners make quick work of the mess under the supervision of a fellow elf. I had a funny thought of giving the supervising elf a whip just for the kicks of it, but then I realize, it wasn't funny at all.
The elven woman supervising the humans has a gloomy look on her face. The very sight of this cabin would indeed provoke this kind of expression, but the elven woman persists and continues to stand guard by the cabin while she supervises.
She nods at me in acknowledgment of my presence.
The bandits are truly brutal. Slaughtering all of the male elves in front of their loved ones is not something a human should do… it is very inhumane… I am no longer a human, but an elf, still I feel this human part of me…
In the spirit of morality, I believe that 'humans' are not the right noun to name the furless ape that calls themselves man and woman.
For all I know, we elves might descend from apes too…
I carry on my stroll.
I arrive at a relatively open clearing just near this village's well. I see elven women taking instructions from Trudviar. They hold their iron weapons and swing them as Trudviar tells them how. As their weapons are of different shapes, Trudviar has to go to extra lengths to specifically tell them how to wield their weapon. If he sees a mistake, he corrects them immediately.
Suddenly, Lafira screams a challenge to Trudviar. Looks like Trudviar is pissing her off for an unknown reason.
Lafira spars with Trudviar and the elven women scatter to watch the drama. Lafira is very aggressive in her attacks, yet she looks like a child in the face of Trudviar's might.
I seat by a barrel and watch the spar.
The elven women want to join the war. They want to be a part of my 'revenge' too and they verbally express it to me with all of their heart. They carry all kinds of iron weapons they find to their liking. I should start thinking of how to model my units.
It is not like all of these elven women are at the level of a knight, yet they choose their weapons to their preferences. It is not that bad, since elves are quick learners. The logical variation in weapons for novice soldiers should be either spears, short swords, or pikes.
I cannot really see how my elf kin can triumph against a horde of human soldiers who had it easy with their spears.
Is there any way for me to improve the combat abilities of my soldiers?
Who knows? Maybe, I can really turn them into elite units.
I scratch at the back of my head as it turns out, I would have more work piling up the longer I stay outside of that damn cabin. I know playing King is hard. I am only starting, yet I am already feeling the pressure.
I recall the documents I had to shuffle back and forth to account for our resources. I recall how torturous it is to devise a plan of action in a military setting starting with the geography and political intricacies between the two baronies. I recall my back hurting in my recent late-nighter.
As I was about to return to my cabin, I recall Kara. I didn't see her around. I plan for the little girl to return to Lorekleim Forest a week from now with Wisley's crew and some elven escorts.
My feet automatically bring me to my destination. From a distance, I can see Kara playing across a mound. There is a short sword piercing on the mound. I recognize the sword as it was Kara's.
Yesterday, I had Kara mourn for her mother. After that, Kara tells me that she wishes to join the fight too, but I decline her. What can a small lass like her do?
I approach Kara, and with a few words, I convince her to return with me to the cabin.
That is enough stroll for the day.