Murder the Heroes

Chapter Three; Section Four

Again he wiped the water from his glasses. Not that there was any point to it. The wind had taught the rain to fly sideways. He set them back on his nose, pulled the rim of hat down further and thrust his hands back towards the fire, as close as was bearable.

He would have wrapped himself around the brazier if he could have. It created a queer feeling; on the front he was uncomfortably hot, while his back was cold, wet and shivering. A few days ago It had been snowing. Now it had begun to thaw. That hadn’t helped the situation any. At least before the ground had been frozen. No longer. Everywhere there was oozing mud and fraying tempers. Only that morning he’d seen two soldiers get into a fight over who could piss against a tree first. As if there wasn’t enough ground for everyone to find a spot. Gods, the whole camp already smelled like a latrine anyway.

For the umpteenth time he asked himself what the hell was he doing here; why the hell had he agreed to stay. He looked up and over at Drieburg, the mightiest castles in all of Aberfell. It was starting to feel like he’d been looking at it his whole life. This was not what he had signed up for. If he had wanted to be a soldier, he would have joined the army. And if he had wanted to spend time alone, he would have stayed in Northvale.

He certainly wouldn’t have chosen this.

He barely saw the heroes anymore. They were off leading sorties, fighting battles, questing, planning attacks and mopping up what remained of Esquire’s army. They’d ridden off a few days ago, leaving Coil to watch the castle, just in case something happened. They didn’t trust the King’s men, they’d said, thought they were incompetent. Coil wasn’t sure whether it was the King’s men or Coil who they doubted.

They hadn’t even told him where they were going; probably to crush yet another peasant uprising, what with most of the countryside supporting the Duke. That’s why the civil war was still dragging on. Though the capital was firmly behind the King, the countryside’s loyalty lay elsewhere. They believed the King’s brother, Duke Esquire, was the better man for the job.

And there were a lot of villagers; more than anybody had imagined.

The constant stream of fresh bodies was keeping this war going much longer than anybody had anticipated. This wasn’t the first siege either – or the first battlefield. Coil didn’t much like battlefields. Death and suffering were far too arbitrary. And besides, Coil wasn’t even sure whether they were on the right side of this whole affair. Yes, the King was the King. He ruled by divine right. At the same time, he could understand the villager’s grievances. The King wasn’t supposed to play favourites. And yet he did.

How, after all, did his new palaces help the poor?

That, it turned out, had been part of the reason the heroes had begged him to stay. They’d needed somebody they could trust who understood Aberfell politics and nobility. Why they’d thought Coil was their man would forever remain a mystery.

The Duke, the moustached, green-eyed man he’d seen in the False Courage, had asked them to back his claim for the throne. The King, he’d maintained, was a warmongering fool, who only cared about his legacy. And he’d convinced them. They’d chosen to side with him, to help him overthrow his brother and bring peace, growth and stability.

He’d convinced Coil too. After all, the King did have a violent streak – he was too bloodthirsty and careless with lives, sending his armies too deep into the forest after the goblins and being a little too quick to take offence at his neighbours’ words and deeds. He wasn’t yet five and thirty and already he’d fought more wars than his father and his grandfather combined.

The problem was that though he understood the point the Duke was making, the way he’d decided to argue it seemed odd to Coil. Civil war, after all, didn’t seem like the right way to stop a warmonger. Wasn’t that why you had politics? Wasn’t that what the council of nobles was for? Truth be told, he was out of his depth. For he’d only ever lived at the edge of of the great forest. The goings on at court rarely penetrated that far.