Chapter 36:

An Army Raised

Tales from Zemliharos: Night of The Striga


It didn’t take long for the Kraji’s personal guard to visit Peter at his quarters, ready to escort him straight to their ruler. Not that he slept any for it to be any sort of inconvenience, he still couldn’t get some of the blood from the evening out of his tunic. As he left the tavern, most of the city was still in shambles, with blood, ash and an occasional corpse still littering the cobblestones. Not a soul remained out on the main streets, even as they approached the tower’s courtyard. No more colorfully clad lords or ladies milling about. No more oversized lines. Those few unfortunate souls that still demanded the Kraji’s attention first thing in the morning were left to the wayside as Peter stepped through the passage, the bailiff missing from his desk.

Inside the courtroom, guardsmen now dotted every wall and corner where glass was present. Early morning sunlight glistened through one of the shattered mosaics, its light no longer filtered through the mighty lynx it once depicted. Instead of wearing his embroidered robes, the Kraji was still in plate, with spatters of blood and viscera still dotting across his chest and stomach while keeping a decapitated striga head in his lap. His advisor wore no such battlements but appeared as if he had not spelt in days, with his sunken and black eyes only further exaggerated after the evening.

Peter prepared to bow, but the Kraji waved him holding up the striga head in his hand, “No need for the blasted pomp. You, Krsnik, tore those bastards to ribbons while it took a battalion of my men to put down a mere straggler who broke in, had to put down the bugger myself.”

“Your Grace, I may krsnik, but dozens more of them prowl my home. As you’ve seen, they are a true threat to your duchy. Let me t-”

The Kraji knocked the head against his throne, “Yeah, yeah, you’ll get your five hundred men and half dozen ships. Just bring me back their heads, plan to decorate the halls with them by the time I’m through with them.”

Peter allowed himself to feel a sliver of joy upon hearing those words, though he was in no mood for politics, only a way to end this carnage for good. “Does that mean you’ll be making a personal appearance with us, Your Grace?”

The Kraji bellowed a deep laugh, nearly dropping the head in the process, “By that bloody Anointed, I’d be on the front lines if I could, most fun I had in years putting this wench out of her misery. A Kraji’s duty though is to his Duchy. My Hand, Sir Bošnjak, just so happens to be in need of some action. Plus, I’m not entrusting my resources with riff raff, no offense. He knows our resources, and he knows our customs.”

A vile sneer overcame Sir Bošnjak’s face as he turned to face his Kraji, “Your Grace-”

“You will not undermine me, not when you were not at my side during one of our duchy’s darkest hours. You bring me their heads, and I just might spare yours.”

Bošnjak nodded, but Peter could still feel his contemptuous ire from where he stood. In return, Peter finished his bow. “Your Grace, our people will never forget what you’ve done for them, you have our ever most gratitude.”

Kraji Ratamir waved off the notion, “And you’ll show it with your weight in silver a thousand times over. You’ll be shipped to Zemliharos by daybreak, bring me Baba Roga’s head and I’ll reduce your rate to 15%.

Peter could feel a slight smile on his face forming as he reached the end of his conversation, “And Your Grace, may I inquire about one final favor.”

“You have my attention.”

“Do you happen to have a chemist in your court?”

The Kraji stared in confusion, “Do you mean an alchemist?”

“...Sure. My travels have allowed me to see kingdoms fa-”

The Kraji nearly leaned out of his throne. “Enough, what do you want?”

Finally, Peter would be able to see his visions of the future in action, with his “To suggest a combination I’ve come across in my journeys. Saltpepper, charcoal and sulfur, the end result might just send the striga back to whatever hell they came from…”

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