Chương 44: 43. Refugees

A cart rattled down the road. Hauled by a boney nag, it was overloaded and surrounded by frightened priests of Ishtoran. They were dirty, covered in soot from the burned out Temple. Tavian watched them from the wall, moving cautiously at first, then, as they left behind the cover of the buildings, picking up speed. They ran toward the front gate, shouting.

"Fools," Tavian snapped.

"They'll attract—" But ghouls were already spilling out of side streets and coming toward the priests.

"Come on!" Tavian shouted, waving his men to open the gate. Together a dozen of them ran through. Tavian summoned his [Mana Armor], and the cool, crystal breastplate formed, protecting his chest. It was splintered and cracked still, but hopefully it could at least protect him a little. Tavian got to the priests before the ghouls did, but only just. The first ghoul ran in, faster than Tavian had expected, but was quickly cut down.

"Run to the fortress!" Tavian yelled at the priests.

"Save your lives, leave the cart!"

"We can't!" came the reply from the woman driving the cart, desperately urging the horse to move faster. Ghouls came in larger groups now, and more of them were approaching. If they didn't get back in the gates, they were going to be overrun.

"What is in the cart?" Tavian asked.

"Relics! Books that we saved from the library!" the priestess said.

"Our lives mean nothing if we don't—" she cut off as a ghoul dove for her horse. Tavian slashed the undead head from its shoulders, and the body fell under the wheels of the cart, which thumped heavily on the ground. Books from the library that Tavian had burned. He would try to save these books, too.

"Come on then," Tavian said, grabbing the cart with his free hand, and wielding his sword with the other.

"Everyone push!" The priests who didn't have their hands full started pushing. The cart frame groaned, and the horse whinnied as his load suddenly became lighter. Tavian's soldiers formed a ring, protecting the cart. [Projectiles] began flying into the ranks of ghouls from the fortress walls. The gate creaked open wider. A priest tripped, dropping the bundle he carried.

"Stay with the group!" Tavian shouted at him. The man looked up stupidly, trying to collect the scrolls that had scattered on the ground. A ghoul grabbed him and bit into his neck. The man crumpled to the ground, leaving the scrolls scattered around. The cart passed through the gate, and it was slammed closed behind them. Frustrated ghouls pounded on the solid timbers. Tavian leaned against the cold stone of the fortress wall, catching his breath. He dismissed his [Mana Armor].

"Whatever you have in that cart had better be worth risking your lives over," he said. The priestess nodded vigorously, and pulled back the covering. Inside were dozens of ornate statues of Ishtoran, not ancient relics, but small fetishes that the priests made and sold to visitors to the temple. There were also scrolls, and other things jumbled together.

"I don't know exactly what's here," the woman said.

"We saved what we could." Tavian sighed.

"Well, you're here now. The other refugees are that way, they're staying in the old griffin stables between the walls. Here, I'll show you." Tavian started walking, and the priests fell in, the old cart rattling along. There hadn't been griffins there since the days of Tavirost, and the stables were used for storage these days. They walked between the inner and outer walls, until they came to the stables.

The ancient masonry and timberworks that had once sheltered the rare creatures always left Tavian feeling a little empty, like looking at a pond drained of water. There were at least sixty people there now. A few other kinds of refugees, non-priests, were gathered outside. Tavian hadn't decided what to do with them all yet, so they simply gathered here. It was starting to be a problem, with this many people.

"What you got in that cart?" A man called from the crowd. He didn't wait for an answer, but came over and checked for himself.

"Books? Statues? Someone needs to bring us some food, we're starving!" The man turned to face Tavian, and clearly didn't recognize him.

"You there," he said.

"Soldier. Go tell someone to bring us some food, we're starving out here." This narrative has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. If you see it on Amazon, please report it. A woman grabbed the man's arm and whispered in his ear.

"I don't care if he's bloody Ishtoran," the man said, shaking himself free.

"If they're just going to starve us to death, why'd we even come here?"

"I'll see what I can do about that," Tavian said. He left them and headed to the inner courtyard, and through to the core courtyard. Erond still sat in his chair, there, and had taken over the role of quartermaster. Before Tavian could approach him, Vanal walked up. He had a large bruise on his cheek, just below his eye.

"My lord," Vanal said.

"We're running low on things to sift. We've been going room by room through the keep and extracting anything worth sifting, but we're not going to last many more days at this rate."

"What about the tainted treasures from the vault?" Tavian asked. They were still sitting in a corner of the courtyard. The Aegis of Tavirost was covered by a cloth, leaning against the wall.

"I can't sift it; all the Essence gets corrupted by the miasma."

"Calli hasn't purified them yet?" Vanal shook his head.

"Remind her," Tavian said.

"Even then, sir," Vanal said.

"I don't know how much longer we can hold out, even with that. The turbulence must be getting worse in the dungeon. Tiles are flipping faster." Tavian eyed the man.

"You have a solution in mind already."

"Yes, my lord," Vanal said.

"The priests of Ishtoran have accumulated a lot of valuable things in the griffin stables. They have refused to contribute anything to sustaining the kingdom." Tavian scratched his head.

"How much would that matter. What do you think they could contribute?"

"I saw enough gold in some of those chests to contribute weeks worth of Essence," Vanal said.

"Maybe even enough that we could get up to four or five influence; I don't know because they kicked me out." He gestured to the bruise on his face.

"That much?" Tavian asked, eyes widening. Vanal nodded seriously.

"They're complaining about food out there," Tavian said.

"What's gold worth when you're starving? Maybe we can barter with them." They crossed over to where Erond was sitting, examining a report.

"We're in trouble," Erond said as Tavian approached.

"I hope you're not too fond of a full belly, my lord." Tavian folded his arms.

"What's the verdict?"

"There are more than four hundred people in your kingdom that need to eat," Erond said.

"We should have locked this down sooner. I give us maybe a week at reduced rations."

"Four hundred? We have that many refugees?"

"You're forgetting your prisoners," Erond said.

"One hundred and seventy three of them, including your brother. If we don't feed them something, they won't be prisoners for long." Tavian closed his eyes, pressing his palm to his head. His pulse throbbed at the base of his skull. How much Essence would he get from sifting the bodies of a hundred dead Anarvian prisoners? Tavian dismissed the thought with a shake of his head. Just because Valliroth thought he was turning into a tyrant of darkness didn't mean he needed to start acting like one.

"Don't worry," Erond said.

"Prisoners are on quarter rations already. We might be able to cut it again, if need be. But if more refugees start pouring in…" Erond shrugged. The movement was clear: Tavian was the ruler. He had to make the decision.

"What are we running out of first?" Tavian asked.

"Essence or food?"

"My lord," Vanal said.

"If Anarvia completes the encirclement of the fortress, the increased pressure will generate more demand for Essence. Combined with the miasmic surges… I give us two, maybe three days before the burn rate becomes unmanageable."

"We can stretch food, as long as you don't start sifting it," Erond said.

"Well is still wet, so we can always cut things with water. Weeks, months, maybe, before people start starving to death. You'll have morale problems first."

"Keep feeding the prisoners," Tavian said to Erond.

"But cut their rations by half. Only people contributing to the kingdom get food going forward," Tavian said. He couldn't do anything about the broader issue his kingdom faced until his messengers returned with more information. He could try to deal with this now, while he waited. He hoped that he wasn't about to create more problems.

"For now, no food for the priests. I'm going to go talk to them." Erond saluted, and Tavian and Vanal walked back toward the griffin stables.

"Thank you, my lord," Vanal said.

"I understand that there are some valuable relics that we need to preserve, but not all of the wealth that the priests preserved has religious value. I don't see why they would protest; my requests were quite reasonable."

"Let's go see," Tavian said. As they headed to the griffin stables, a commotion at the gate drew Tavian's attention. A small group of what appeared to be wealthy merchants and their families entered the gate, and soldiers were trying to decide what to do with them.

"You could be spies!" one of the soldiers said.

"Please, sir," a fat man wearing a luxurious but torn robe.

"We only seek shelter. There are vandals in the streets; they broke into our homes."

"Aren't you liegemen of Brask?" the soldier asked.

"Seek shelter at your own house!"

"We cannot!" the man exclaimed.

"The roads to the docks are too dangerous! And the Brasks are sequestered on their island home, so the rumors say." Tavian cursed inwardly at hearing that. He should have expected that Lord and Lady Brask would hole up on their rock at the first sign of trouble. He worried about the boys that he'd sent to contact them. Perhaps it was a good sign. It meant that Brask hadn't sided with Anarvia. Or at least, these merchants didn't seem to think so.

"We can't just let you in," the soldier said, and the merchant's face reddened as he wound up to protest.

"They can stay with the priests," Tavian said, ending the fight.

"Nobody who is not a sworn subject of my kingdom will enter the inner wall. You did well to save the lives of these men," Tavian said, and the merchant shot a pointed look at the soldier.

"But," Tavian continued.

"You're also right to be suspicious. Good work." The soldier smirked at the merchant. Tavian and Vanal escorted the merchants. There were three of them, two men and a woman, along with a handful of children.

"Thank you, my lord, for admitting us," the fat man said.

"My children were so afraid. It is good to be within these secure walls."

"Did you bring anything with you?" Tavian asked.

"I am afraid that our resources are scarce here." He eyed the rings on the man's fingers.

"Nothing but the clothes on our backs, my lord," the merchant said. The problem was getting worse by the minute. The griffin stables were already full of priests, and, from the looks of it, more refugees from the city were still pouring in. Dozens of men, women, and children clustered around the griffin stables, laborers, craftsmen, and others seeking shelter. The priests of Ishtoran appeared to have claimed the stables for themselves.

As Tavian reached the stables, the clatter of hooves on stone behind him drew his attention.

"My lord!" Two of the pages that Tavian had sent out as messengers rode up, horses lathered with foam, eyes wide with terror.