Chereads / Fae King / Chapter 9 - Number Game

Chapter 9 - Number Game

War is a number game. Your resources. The number of your weapons, food, and able manpower. The logistics. The distance from the battlefront and how to decrease the time between coming and going from the two points.

Everything is quantifiable, and this is a fact as long as I believe it is… Even love can come in the form of numbers, and so is faith. The faith of my people is peaking at 99% currently. I believe if I ask them to die for me, they would gladly do so. Not that I wish to test the theory.

I stand before a map of the Fendra Province or a portion of it. There are a couple of dozen baronies in this province, but I only need to concern with two. Urden County needs no special mention. As for now, I must focus my attention on Zaun Barony and Jeremy Barony.

"I will need a better map. A more accurate map of not just the province of Fendra but also the whole Kingdom of Beyronald... Also, lots of books regarding elves… I would love to know what the humans' perspective of elves is like." Zeraya nods and notes my needs. She will surely remind Wisley of this when the two of them go on their mercantile adventures tomorrow.

The Kingdom of Beyronald is a strong nation that has over a hundred barons in its name. I don't know about those who have a higher stature as that kind of knowledge is something I can only get from the royal archives.

The 'hundred' barons are just an estimate on my part with Zeraya's confidence, but that much alone is enough for me to realize the Beyronald Kingdom is quite a big force. It does deserve to be the ruling Kingdom here in the southern parts.

Not something I should be warring against.

However, it is not the Beyronald Kingdom that I want to fight. I see some form of success is still possible if it is just against Urden, Zaun, and Jeremy. Moreover, I have the initiative.

Sitting in the corner of my office is Kara. I had her seat here and just watch me work. I hope to bore her to death, and maybe for some time, the fire of vengeance lurking in her eyes would just burn out. I would love nothing more for this lass to return to being a normal girl.

But it seems that I was wrong.

"Zeraya, did you give her your dagger?"

To my consternation, Zeraya seems to be encouraging the girl with her little acts of kindness. Ridiculously, Zeraya doesn't know what she is doing.

"I am free of guilt… She does want to contribute. When I was a young elf, I had my part in contributing to the village. The same must be true for every elven youth, don't you think so?"

I cannot wrong Zeraya for that, but I don't dare risk it out there. The idea of a child soldiers isn't so foreign to me, but I find the act of practicing it very inefficient. We are in a world where primitive iron metal weapons dominate the world.

If we had firearms, and maybe if I am heartless, I might find a use for child soldiers.

Kara had brown hazel hair and an innocent smile on her face. She is a child through and through. I can see war ruining it if I turn her into my soldier, and the truth is… I don't care. That is how obsessive I am about my revenge. If I truly have a choice, I would allow her to arm herself and fight, but no, I cannot.

The reason is quite practical. It is because having Kara at her age fight as a soldier would only affect my elf kin soldiers negatively.

Just the sight of a child soldier fighting is already too demoralizing for my elf kin soldiers. I cannot imagine how low the morale of my fellow elves will drop if they see a child soldier in their ranks dying just in front of their eyes.

They might fall into incalculable wrath to the point they become unstoppable, but that wouldn't do. In their state of fearlessness and blind rage, this kind of elves would only die. I don't need dead elves.

Every elven life is precious as we are few and have a low reproductive rate.

I stretch out my palm asking for the dagger.

Kara gives the dagger easily.

I return the dagger to Zeraya.

"Please let me fight…"

The right move for me is to ignore Kara. That is what I have been doing for some time, but it is not working. I should take a different approach to this vengeful brat.

I look at Kara and see the sincerity in her eyes. Do you want to fight? I will let you fight.

"You will die."

At my warning, Kara simply shrugs.

"I am not afraid."

I repeat my warning to her.

"You will die so terribly you wouldn't wish to do it You would face so many battles that would seem endless, and you will finish it because that is what is necessary. You will pray you are dead already because of the torturous grind night-through-day."

"I am willing to do it!" Kara solemnly swears to me.

Meanwhile, Zeraya is having a what-the-fuck moment. "Are you serious?"

I ignore Zeraya. I carry over a pile of books to which I judge value according to their synopsis and titles. I will have Kara read all of them. I do sure hate reading books, so I will have another person do it for me.

Kara dumbly look at what I am carrying.

Too bad for her.

"Because you swore, you have to do this now. This books consist the local tales here in the Fendra province."

I drop the books causing the wooden floor to creak noisily. I pat Kara's head, and with a victorious grin, I tell her what she should do. "I want you to read the lot of them. There is no need to memorize them. You just have to remember the characters and what are their relationships are like. Ok? It is like remembering who your neighbor hates, and who your neighbor likes."

"But I want to fight…" Kara weakly reasons.

"This is a fight," I tell her without my face changing.

I am lucky to have Kara around. It seems that her mother is an aficionado of folk tales and had Kara read a lot of them. That is not the 'real treasure' in Kara, however— it is that she is young.

Elf anatomy is very weird and miraculous. Though elves have weak physical and emotional growth because of their lacking and late hormone secretion, their brains have the same speed as humans' brains develop.

This is also where their quick-learning ability comes from. That is why elves' have always superior intelligence to the other races in comparison. And for young elves like Kara, having her work this young would be more beneficial for the future.

For all I know, she might be the next Elven King, context-wise, the Elven Queen… The idea is certainly there. I imagine myself dying tomorrow and even maybe today. Who knows? There might be a bandit who was able to escape last night's raid and manages to luckily inform either of the barons or worse… Count Urden.

To have an inheritor this early is not so bad. If I have someone to inherit my hate, then my revenge is as good as done. Still… I would prefer to see it done in my own hands.

I leave Kara alone with the tons of books detailing the local stories of the lords around here. I only have those books to pass the time while the other elves are busy enacting my plan of action.

So, what exactly is the plan?

My eyes return to the map with a bunch of red markings specifically targeting the satellite villages near Urden territory.

"Zeraya, it is time for war… Call the elves…"

Zeraya tenses and just leave silently not even bothering with her 'yes, your majesty' which I am starting to get used to. My declaration seem to shake her up.

It is the coming of dusk. Under the light of the crimson sunset, I arrive by the village plaza. I stand at the crates to elevate myself and so that people can easily see me, and hear what I have to say.

"Tonight, we will rest, for tomorrow, we will go to war."

I begin with this powerful declaration. The elves calmly listen to me letting me finish what I have to say.

"You might think there is no chance for us. Maybe what we are doing is futile and pointless. What can a bunch of elves so small in number do? I see over forty elves here, and we lack men. No offense to the ladies, but all of you are bruised, and hurt… The hate that you have is what carries you today."

I pretty much am insulting them, and the elves don't take my words nicely as I see some angry faces. I scoff at them while snorting. I see Trudviar awkwardly face-palming by the corner of my eyes.

"Don't be offended, because that's the truth. The only capable warrior we have is Trudviar."

At these words, everyone falls into silence. I don't need to mention Zeraya as she is a half-elf and just might complicate things. I continue on with my super insulting remarks.

"We have old men, a bunch of hurt women, and hell… A kid even wants to join the fight… You guys are so willing to die… it leaves me speechless…"

My insults pierce their skin so badly, and the pain is so hateful, they are forgetting that I just declared to them that we will be going to war tomorrow.

And then… I explode. "YOU ARE WILLING TO DIE BUT I AM NOT!"

The selfish words come out of my mouth like a volcano. It seems so contradictory to the 'act' I have been playing since the beginning. The truth though is that this is an act. I have to instill an 'idea' to my people, and what better method is there than go against the flow to make an impact?

"Then why go to war if you so badly don't want to fucking die!? You fucking coward!" Lafira cannot take it anymore and hurls an insult at me.

I reciprocate in kind.

"Because I cannot go to war if I am dead!"

So logical, yet so unnecessary. Does it really warrant me to go in a tantrum just to say this? But it is the truth. We cannot go to war if we are dead. I have to imprint on the people that their lives are too precious.

"We were lucky in that night raid. We didn't lose anyone. The brigands are dead drunk, and we are full of hate. But that won't be the same in the future. Many will die. We will mourn. We will doubt ourselves whether the hate is worth it. You might say you are willing to die for the cause, but I am not.

"Vengeance is a hungry bottomless hole. The more you hate, the hungrier it gets. Your life is worth more than your hate. Because your life is what will fuel this war. We are few, and weak, and this is the truth. One of you dies, the rest will follow. So I cannot have anyone of you die.

"To us elves, defeat means losing just one of us."

The 'idea' finally takes root to every elves' heart.

"We do not have the numbers, and for an army, we sure lack a great deal of it. So, this is what we are going to do… We are going to borrow an army…"

I don a wicked smile.

Thus, the number game begins.