The Warlord Ch. 01

WARLORD Chapter 1

This is a non-erotic isekai adventure (stranger in a strange world). Thanks to my editors, Alianath Iriad and Lastman416, for their advice and corrections. Any remaining errors are mine.

I was tired. Once again, I'd got caught up in my latest 'Defence of the Realm' campaign, and completely lost track of time. It was almost 2:45 AM. In my own defence, the game was absolutely addictive. It had a complex military-economic-technology system, which was deceptively easy to learn, but quite difficult to master. There were multiple possible paths to victory.

DotR (as it was known in the community) also featured cutting-edge graphics, riveting game play, and incredibly immersive diplomacy, involving complicated negotiations with beautifully-rendered AI avatars (voiced by actors), which also involved marriage alliances. I'd been tempted more than once to consummate an alliance for purely visual or auditory reasons (abetted by my imagination), rather than practical power politics.

I also played Conquest, which was PvP (player versus player). You could wage war or form alliances with up to six other people. That one was a bit less immersive, but very satisfying to win.

Okay, enough nerd talk. Again, in my own defence, I've spent countless hours listening to my family and co-workers talking sports. Honestly? Alabama beat Where's Waldo State 73-3? Athletes making more money than the staffs of entire hospitals? Baseball might be the worst. I couldn't give a rat's ass if the outfielder prevented a home run by catching the ball at the fence. 162 games in a season? Then playoffs? All on the way to a supposed world championship - that will be fought out again a year later. Every year. The Olympics or the soccer things have a better claim to my attention.

Yeah, sports is the obsession of the majority. Good for them. There are millions of people who watch teams play tag. Auto racing. Cooking shows. Talent competitions that inevitably remind me of high school. Property porn. Whatever. Don't judge my hobby. I'm not hurting anyone (except myself, with the late hours).

I like computer wargames. Strategy games. Chess doesn't get my motor running, but Global World Domination? Empires in Arms? Games have come a long way since Monopoly and Risk.

You may roll your eyes at this point (if you haven't done so multiple times already). I'm only telling you all of this because these games led directly to the most incredible adventure of my mostly uneventful life.

I saved and closed the game, and then opened my mail. It's a weird little idiosyncrasy of mine. I read my email after gaming. If I did it first thing in the morning, I could easily slide down the rabbit hole and spend hours answering messages instead of getting started on my working day. Doing it this way, at this time, was a sort of control mechanism for me.

When you're a natural procrastinator, you either fall far behind in your work schedule, or you make a serious effort to avoid screwing around. I'd adopted James Bond's mantra: 'Business before pleasure'. If I got my work done promptly, there would be plenty of time for gaming, without the annoyance of unfinished tasks hanging over my head.

I could also see emails from my supervisor, which often let me know that I was looking at a heavy workload the next day, or some crisis that needed immediate attention. It certainly let me know if I had to set my alarm and get up early, or if I could maybe even sleep in for an hour.

I shut down my PC, turned off my three monitors (I really only need two), and went to my tiny bathroom to brush my teeth. Lights off. Into bed. I resisted the urge to review the last few actions of my campaign, and concentrated instead on clearing my mind. Sleep was slow in coming, as usual, but exhaustion helped me keep my eyes closed.

I awoke to the dulcet tones of my alarm (programmed to play 'Ding Dong the Witch is Dead' from The Wizard of Oz). Without a second thought (or even a first), I tumbled out of bed.

My room was far too bright. Lacking a window to the outside, there was no way that my bedroom could be flooded with sunlight. But there it was - except that the source of the light seemed to be just outside the doorway. Was it coming from my main room (the atrium, living room, den and kitchenette combined)?

There was no light that powerful in there. I didn't own a light that powerful. I cautiously stuck my head out the doorway. All I could see was light. That wasn't right.

Just to clarify: I wasn't drunk, or hungover, and I don't do drugs. So this had to be some kind of non-pharmaceutical hallucination, or a dream.

I sat back down on my bed, and reached for my phone. It was dead, of course. Deader than a door nail. Yet I always plugged it in to recharge while I gamed. Had I not done that last night? I must have. But now I couldn't google 'How can you tell if you're dreaming?'.

Sometimes, I can be very pragmatic. With my phone dead, it wasn't going to do me any good to sit on my bed naked (and trust me, it's a sight you don't want to see). So, finally, I put on my work clothes: track pants, comfortable bunny slippers, and a faded old Foreigner t-shirt. Ah, the joys of working from home.

I wasn't sure, though, if I was ready to face the light. And there was one morning ritual I wasn't going to be able to avoid, dreaming or not: I had to go. Do people pee in their dreams? Do they shave? Because that's what I did next.

Then I realized that I'd procrastinated enough. It was time to walk towards the light. I experienced the most incredible feeling, as my entire body shivered - except that the sensation began in my scalp, and only reached my feet a full two seconds later.

I didn't expect to stub my toe - or to fall forwards, off-balance. I landed heavily, on my knees. It hurt a lot more than it should have. But then, I hadn't fallen on my well-worn carpet. Instead, I barked my knees on what felt like a block of stone.

Yes. I literally almost landed on my face. I was on my hands and knees on a hard, semi-smooth stone floor.

For some reason, my initial reaction was that I'd just gone through a Star Trek transporter. I knew right away that I wasn't in my apartment anymore.

Both of my knees were probably badly bruised. My dignity took a bit of a hit, too, since I also realized that I wasn't alone.

I was in a completely different room - or chamber, I suppose - which looked medieval: it had stone walls, partially covered by tapestries, with narrow windows. There were torches in sconces set at intervals, though unlit at the moment.

There were three women standing a short distance away. They wore long dresses, covered by outer robes of a heavier fabric. Brocade? The one in the middle stood a little in the advance of the others.

She was evidently the oldest. Her long, thick, dark brown hair was partially pinned up on either side of her head, giving her the appearance of wearing a crown, with long, loose braids hanging over her shoulders. Her outer robe was of burgundy and blue, with gold trim. She wore a blue scarf as well.

To her right was a younger, shorter girl. She had hair so black that it was practically blue. I noticed that her robes were all blue, trimmed with gold. She had huge brown eyes, and very fine features.

On the other side was a taller woman, whose blue robes were partially covered by a piece of scale armour, made of leather and metal. Yeah - I can identify that sort of thing. This third woman was handsome, rather than beautiful, and had blue eyes. I also noted the fact that her armour looked pristine; it wasn't entirely decorative, but she hadn't seen any fighting in it.

The older woman in the centre nodded her head.

- "Welcome, Warlord." she said.

Okay. I have to admit that I knelt there like an idiot. My mouth was probably open. Remember that I was wearing track pants (overdue for the laundry), fuzzy slippers, and a faded concert t-shirt more than two decades old. No, it wasn't my best look.

And just so you know: my best look wasn't all that great anyway. I'm tall, at 6'4", but overweight. I may not be morbidly obese, but most people would describe me as big and fat. And ugly. I don't kid myself. My last girlfriend was nine years ago, when I was 16. Okay, she was also my only girlfriend.

These were definitely strange thoughts to be having as I knelt like a doofus on a stone floor in front of three beautiful ladies in Medieval costumes. The first thing that occurred to me to do was to stand up.

- "Umm... hello. May I ask where I am?"

- "You are in Dahlia." said the older woman. She must have seen the look of simple incomprehension on my face. "In the Decapolis. I am Rona Hadyk."

Decapolis. Deca for ten, and polis, the Greek word for city. Or city-state. But she wasn't speaking Greek. Her unaccented English was perfect. That is, relatively unaccented. There were no regional giveaways, and certainly no foreign flavour to her words.

They might have been actresses in some kind of Renaissance fair. Or on a movie set. But wouldn't they have reacted differently to the sight of me popping out of thin air right in front of them - not to mention landing on my ass? They didn't appear to be surprised at all. Disappointed, maybe, but not surprised.

Plus Rona Hadyk had called me Warlord. Just like the game I thought I'd played for far too many hours. I got the definite feeling that I wasn't in Kansas anymore, Dorothy.

- "Thank you, Mrs. - umm... Lady Hadyk. Do you have any idea how I came to be here?"

She blinked. "We petitioned the Gods, asking for a way out of our predicament. They answered our call by sending us a strategist without equal."

A strategist without equal? I swear that was what she said.

- "Uh... me?"

- "You are a peerless warlord. Undefeated in the defence of the realm. Victorious in every single campaign of the Empires in arms."

My mouth fell open again. How did she know the names of the games I played? Defence of the Realm? Empires in Arms? But did she know that they weren't PvP? When I played them, I was only fighting the AI. Even on the highest difficulty settings, it was only a matter of time before an even moderately experienced player prevailed against artificial intelligence.

Wait. A weird thought struck me: was I somehow inside a game? No, that didn't make sense. No game had the power to light up my apartment and make me trip and fall on my knees - which still hurt.

- "I, umm... I'm not sure that I'm the one you're looking for."

- "Are you not the Warlord Daniel Graham?"

- "Well, that's my name... ah, except for the Warlord part."

Lady Hadyk nodded emphatically. "Then you are the one we have been waiting for. The strategist we were promised. And our need is dire." Then she frowned. "But I am remiss. May I present my daughter, Stephanie Hadyk?" The beautiful girl with the blue-black hair sketched a brief curtsy. "And my niece, Deondra Hadyk." The woman in armour inclined her head.

- "I look forward to working with you, Lord Daniel."

- "Thank you. Umm... your need is dire?" I don't know why I picked that out of everything Lady Hadyk had said, or why I chose to repeat it.

- "Indeed. May we show you?"

- "I, ah... yes. Of course." No, I don't know why I said that, either. Go with the dream? Humour the crazy people? What else was I supposed to do?

The three ladies led me down a short hallway, through what looked to be a dining room, and into an adjoining room, which was dominated by a large table. There were pairs of armed guards at the exits, who wore mail armour and steel helmets, and carried spears. There was also a trio of servants, with their hands clasped together in front of their bodies.

- "Here is our best map." said Lady Hadyk.

It took a bit of an effort not to look up at her in disbelief. A map? This was more of a diagram. There were ten dots on the paper, or parchment, each with a name written above or below. The dots were spread out more or less evenly from left to right, though their positions varied from the top to the middle or bottom of the page.

Amaranth. Bryony. Caladium. Wait - were they in alphabetical order? Dahlia, Eglantine, Flax... Flax? Who names a city Flax? Goldenrod, Hyacinth, Ivy and Jacaranda. Weren't most of these flowers? Or plants, at least?

This wasn't a real place. Maybe I was inside a game. Or some kind of artificial construct, at least, designed by a florist or a botanist.

- "Ah... who named the cities?" I asked.

- "They are not cities." said Rona Hadyk. "We call them Production Centres. But to answer your question, the names were granted by the Gods."

- "Production Centres?"

- "We have arranged a tour of Dahlia, so that you will understand. But we thought that you would prefer to see the strategic situation, first."

- "Yes. Of course."

- "There were originally ten families, each in control of a Production Centre. Each family is led by a Matriarch. But after several wars, with shifting alliances, four families came to dominate. We hold Dahlia, Flax and Hyacinth. The Morcars control Caladium, Eglantine and Goldenrod. The Balabans own Amaranth and Bryony, while the Shorrs have Ivy and Jacaranda."

That meant that the Balabans held the western edge of the map, while the Shorrs were on the eastern side. The Morcars had the central position in the north; the Hadyks held the centre-south.

"In my time as Matriarch, we have allied with the Shorrs, or with the Balabans, depending on the situation. But now the Morcars have persuaded both families to ally with them - against us."

- "Are the cities... pardon, the Production Centres - are they roughly equal?"

- "They are perfectly equal, in terms of production capacity." said Deondra, the woman in armour.

- "What is it that they produce?" I asked.

- "Why... everything. Food, resources. Troops and armaments. Horses."

Shit. Their situation was worse than dire: they were doomed. Assuming that the alliance against them held, the Hadyks were outnumbered 7 to 3. They didn't need a warlord; they needed a diplomat. Or to put it another way, they didn't need me; they needed a miracle. Failing that, they needed the cheat codes. Was it only because I was a gamer that I was thinking this way? I was treating this crazy situation - and the three ladies - as if they were real. Or, if not real, at least as if they had some sort of internal logic and consistency.

- "Would it be possible to see another map? One that shows the topography?"

- "Topography?" said the Matriarch.

- "Geographical features. Lakes and rivers, forests and mountains. Major obstacles."

Rona looked at Deondra, who looked confused.

- "There are no rivers, Warlord." said the younger woman. "We have very small lakes. Ponds, really. There are streams, and small clusters of trees. We have hills, but no mountains."

Unbelievable. "May I ask what lies just beyond the edges of the map?"

That question left them even more flummoxed.

- "Nothing, Lord Daniel."

- "The world is flat, then? And what happens if you travel south from... Flax? Do you fall off the edge of the world?"

Now the three ladies looked at me as if I'd lost my mind. Maybe I had.

- "No, Warlord. You come to the Wall."

- "The Wall. I see. And the Wall covers all four sides of the world?"

Apparently it did. So we had a flat, featureless rectangle, with production centres instead of cities. I was still trying to figure out how I'd gotten here. There didn't seem to be an immediate way out. And yes, I'd already pinched myself. Twice. I wondered if I went to sleep here, would I wake up at home? In the meantime, I might as well listen to what the Hadyk ladies were telling me.

"When did the war begin?" I asked.

Again, the women looked confused.

- "War was declared two days ago." said Deondra. "Hostilities will begin in three or four days." She said it the same way you would explain to someone that it gets dark at night because the sun goes down.

- "I apologize, ladies. I know nothing of your world beyond what you've told me so far. I was not prepared to be... summoned. I had no idea what was about to happen when I woke up this morning in my own... realm. You will have to explain just about everything."

- "Where should we begin?" asked Lady Rona.

- "How big is your army? Where is it stationed? What types of troops do you have? And what do your enemies have?"

The matriarch nodded. "Come this way, Warlord."

We left the map room, and turned down a hallway. It was darker here, as there were no windows, but there were lamps hanging on the walls. Deondra collected one of them. At the end of the hall, we came to a large door guarded by four spearmen. Actually, I was surprised to see that two of the guards were clearly spearwomen.

- "You have female fighters?"

Deondra answered. "Yes. Of course."

- "How many of the soldiers are women?"

- "Half. Exactly half."

Lady Rona produced a large key, and unlocked the door. It was a thick wooden door, reinforced with bands of wrought iron. Two of the guards had to help their matriarch to push it open.

Deondra went in next, and used her lamp to light four torches in their wall-sconces.

I'm pretty sure that my mouth fell open again.

There wasn't much in the room. Bare stone walls. Bare stone floor. A curious table with a thick, solid base. An alcove concealed behind a thick blue curtain. And a fiery corona of light that made me think of Stargate SG-1.

Imagine a cloudy oval mirror about eight feet high and four feet wide (at its greatest extent), wreathed in a corona of shifting, swirling white flames tinged with blue.

- "That is our Portal." said Rona.

- "Portal." I said. "What does it do? Is it a gateway of some sort?"

- "Yes. It allows us to travel from one Production Centre to another."

- "How long does it take? How many people can use it?"

- "It takes only a moment. As many people as you wish, I imagine. I've never heard of a limit."

- "So, theoretically speaking... could you use the Portal to smuggle troops into your enemy's citadel?"

Deondra laughed at that. "If only! No, Lord Daniel: we can only travel to production centres that we control. You can take a servant or two. But peons alone cannot use the Portals."

- "Peons?"

- "Our soldiers. Our servants."

- "Ah." I didn't much like the sound of that. Peons, as far as I'm concerned, is a semi-derogatory term used to describe low-ranked labourers - or it's just another word for pawns.

- "This is our Touchstone." said Lady Rona, as she approached the odd-looking table. I followed her there, and found what looked like an overlarge keypad, with strange symbols instead of numbers.

- "This is where we can choose which units to produce in Dahlia." said Deondra. She pointed at the symbols one at a time. "Heavy infantry. Light infantry. Archers. Light cavalry. Heavy cavalry."

Archers. So they were a pre-industrial society. Pre-gunpowder, anyway.

- "Produce? How does that work?"

- "I don't know, Lord. We press the button, and they appear on the parade ground."

- "Wait - people just appear?"

- "Not people. Peons. But yes. In units of 100."

- "Armed and armoured?"

- "Yes."

- "And how many units can you produce?"

- "That depends on the type of troops selected. We are limited to 100 points per turn, per production centre."

- "Turn? There are turns?" This was sounding more and more like a game. The three Hadyk ladies seemed to be real people, but their world appeared to be no more than a computer program.

"Could you back up a bit, Lady Deondra? Explain to me how war works here. You can keep it very simple - as if I was a child."

Deondra was an impressive woman. She was tall and attractive, but she also had charisma. Now I was impressed by how quickly she marshalled her thoughts, and then presented me the information I needed in a simple, well-organized manner.

- "Every Production Centre - every PC - has a peacetime force. Here: let me write this down for you." She sent a guard running back to the map room, to bring her writing implements. Deondra explained it to me, but then provided me with a simple list.

1 Heavy Cavalry

1 Light Cavalry

2 Heavy Infantry

6 Light Infantry

2 Archers

Each unit contained one hundred troops. In addition, each PC had a thousand artisans, craftspeople, and servants. When war was declared, each 'city' could produce more units, spending up to 100 points. Light infantry were the cheapest, at 6 points each. Archers cost 7, while heavy infantry and light cavalry cost 10. Heavy cavalry were by far the most expensive, at 20 points per unit.

- "How do they perform in battle?" I asked.

- "Light infantry are vulnerable to all the other troop types." she said. "They are most often kept as garrison troops, or for storming a PC. Only infantry can attack or defend a PC."

That was interesting. "Do archers count as infantry?"

- "Yes."

- "Can heavy infantry stop a cavalry charge?"

- "Yes, if they maintain their formation. Light cavalry dare not attack them head on, but can threaten the rear or a flank. Archers are dangerous to cavalry, but they are also vulnerable to every other unit type in close combat - even light infantry."

- "What about movement?"

- "Yes. That's a good question." Deondra smiled. She seemed to be enjoying our interaction. "Heavy cavalry and heavy infantry move at the same pace. Slow. Light infantry and archers are much quicker, and of course the light cavalry are capable of moving at speed."

- "Tell me about supplies. Food and fodder. How are they carried? Wagons?"

- "I... I don't understand."

- "Supplies. Soldiers and horses have to eat, don't they?"

Deondra frowned. "No." she said. "They don't."

- "I'm sorry: are you saying that people don't eat?"

- "Peons don't. We let them eat and drink on ceremonial occasions. Festivals, and the like. But they don't need food the way people do."

- "You don't count peons as people? How many 'people' are there?"

- "There are presently fifty-one Hadyks of all ages." said Lady Rona. "You will learn more about peons in due time, Warlord. Perhaps we should stick to military matters for the moment."

Had I touched a nerve there? I needed to know a lot more about peons. But while I had Deondra here, she seemed to be the most valuable source of information about the armed forces and warfare.

- "Lady Deondra, what would you say is a standard build? That is... what would you expect the enemy cities to produce, in terms of troop types? Or let me put it this way: if you were in their place, what would you build?"

She gave me a perfectly sensible answer. It was so logical that I asked her to write it down. The 98-point build.

1 Heavy Cavalry for 20 points

2 Light Cavalry for 20

2 Heavy Infantry for 20

4 Light Infantry for 24

2 Archers for 14

Total: 98 points out of 100. Excellent value, plus you had a variety of units, giving you maximum flexibility. Deondra also reminded me that while cavalry were crucial on the battlefield, only infantry could defend or attack a city. Then she remembered a critical detail.

- "Oh, and infantry defending a PC are twice as effective."

- "What?" Would that be the equivalent of saying that their combat value was doubled?

I asked a few more questions. Deondra made it quite clear that defending the Hadyk cities had to be the very first priority.

- "If we lose a Touchstone, we cannot produce more troops on the next turn. And any troops already linked to that Touchstone would be instantly lost."

- "Sorry: could you back up a bit, there? Explain that again?"

She did. Troops were irrevocably linked to the city where they were produced. If they marched away, and that city was captured behind them, then those troops immediately became the property of the new owner of their Touchstone.

Interesting...

I asked to see some of the troops. Lady Rona had already planned for that.

- "But perhaps we should first find more appropriate clothing for a Warlord." she said.

I didn't know if the ladies were merely being diplomatic, but they hadn't said or done anything to indicate that they were uncomfortable with my height - or my weight. Quite literally, I towered over them. And loomed over them, too. Nor had they mentioned my strange garb (it must have been strange to them): Foreigner t-shirt, worn track pants (sans underwear), and my fluffy slippers.

- "You have something that will fit?" It hadn't escaped my notice that I was a fair bit taller and considerably larger than any of the guards I'd seen.

The Lady just smiled. She pressed a button, and then spoke to the Touchstone.

- "Clothing and armour for the Warlord."

That's it? Didn't she need my measurements?

Lady Rona walked to the heavy blue curtain, and pulled it back. The alcove behind it contained a set of wooden pegs fixed into the stone. Hanging from the pegs was a selection of clothing and equipment.

Okay, I was impressed. Lady Rona let me inspect the clothes, and closed the curtain behind me so that I could dress in private. It wasn't all that hard to figure out, but I was impressed again as I discovered that these things would actually fit me.

There was a tunic sort of thing, which would look better than my frayed t-shirt (though I kept the shirt on underneath). The skirt, or kilt, was made of overlapping leather flaps. Pteriges? Pteruges? Greco-Roman, probably. They were a lot lighter and flimsier than I would have anticipated.

Then I put the armour on and understood. The breastplate was engraved, but it was incredibly light; if someone poked me with a finger, it might dent my armour. It was a costume, purely for show. This was definitely not equipment for combat. The helmet gleamed, and featured a huge transverse crest of dyed horsehair, like a Roman centurion's, but it felt no heavier than a baseball batting helmet.

There was a sword belt and scabbard, an ornamental sword that probably couldn't cut cheese, and tall boots. I was going to look absolutely ridiculous. Well, I was probably doomed to look foolish no matter what I wore.

When I stepped out from behind the curtain, though, Lady Rona clapped her hands together.

- "There we are! Now you look the part as well!"

Deondra smiled, but didn't comment. I couldn't read Lady Stephanie's expression at all. She was a cool customer who evidently kept her thoughts to herself. She had yet to say much at all.

It was a short walk back to the other end of the hall, onto a balcony which overlooked a courtyard. We were high enough that I could see much of the city. We were indeed inside a castle, or central keep. Below us, a hundred heavy infantry were drilling with spears.

Dahlia really wasn't all that big of a city. I saw a few hundred houses, plus two dozen or so larger buildings.

- "Barracks." said Deondra, when I asked.

The outer walls of the city had crenellations and ramparts, but they were only eighteen feet high. The walls of the keep were sturdier and higher, at twenty-five feet. I asked about siege engines, and learned that they didn't exist. Apparently ladders and large numbers of infantry were enough to successfully storm a PC.

- "Shall we go down?" suggested Lady Rona. "You can meet the commanders, and inspect some of the troops. It will be good for them to see you."

As we made our way through the castle, I asked Deondra about the soldiers' training and morale. Would knowing that they had a warlord inspire them, or improve their performance?

- "The peacetime troops have trained. They can maneuver, and change formations. Newly-raised units can only be asked to perform basic movements. But they will fight hard, and give a good account of themselves. Their morale will be at least as high as our enemies', even though they will know that we are outnumbered."

I got the distinct impression that tactical options were strictly limited. Commanders in these wars simply brought their armies to the battlefield, pointed them at the enemy, and set them loose. I was going to try to come up with a winning strategy, then - assuming that I was still here tomorrow.

When we reached the courtyard, commands were shouted, and the troops stood to attention. They were heavy infantry, armed with spears and swords, and heavy rectangular shields on the Roman pattern, with iron rims and a central boss. They looked to be about three and a half feet high, which would cover a soldier from the shoulder to the knee (the peons weren't particularly tall).

They also wore shirts of mail, and round helmets with thick rims, which I imagine would prevent a blow to the head from sliding straight down and connecting with the soldier's neck or collarbone. Heavy boots and a leather kilt like mine (only heavier and more solid) completed their equipment.

They stood stock-still and silent as I was presented to their commander.

- "Warlord Daniel," said Rona, "may I present my consort, Enver Hadyk?"

- "Pleased to meet you." I said. That didn't go over all that well; I was going to have learn protocols (and probably a whole new set of manners) if I was going to be here any longer.

- "We are honoured, Warlord." said Enver. He had a shock of hair so blonde that it was almost white. It wasn't old age; I wouldn't have put Enver's age past 50. He was a handsome fellow, but struck me as a bit of a lightweight. I guessed that Rona had married him for a political connection, or for his looks. Or both. She was the ruler, and he served a purpose.

I took a closer look at the heavy infantry. Even though Deondra had forewarned me, it still came as a bit of a shock to realize that half of the soldiers in the courtyard were indeed female. They didn't seem to be any smaller or physically weaker than the males.

It would have been impossible to categorize them by their looks; I saw faces that appeared to be half-Asian, or Native American, while others could have been East Indian, Caribbean Black, East European, or even half-elven. There were four distinct skin tones: dark brown, light brown, olive, and pale. What they all had in common was the colour of their hair - it was blue.

- "They look excellent." I said, loud enough for most of them to hear.

- "They will fight to the death for the Hadyks." he said.

Hmm.

- "We can carry on the rest of the inspection on horseback." suggested Lady Rona.

Oh, no. No. The last time I'd been on horseback was a pony ride at the fair when I was six. The animals were led by careful handlers, but I remembered clinging on for dear life. And now? I wasn't sure that they had a horse that could bear my weight. That would be embarrassing. Nor would it boost morale for the troops to see their warlord gritting his teeth in terror, or even shitting his track pants in the saddle. What if I was actually thrown from a horse?

- "Could we discuss horses another time?" I said, softly, with my back to the troops. "For today, I'm sure that I'm tall enough to be seen - especially with this helmet."

- "But you would tower over everyone on horseback."

- "Unless I fell off - which is a distinct possibility, Lady. I've never ridden a horse before. I would be happy to learn. Just not today."

- "You must ride, Warlord. It is simply not done otherwise." said Rona. "Deondra: have Jashi fetch the most docile horse we have. You and she can ride beside the Warlord, and keep his horse under control."

Jashi, it turned out, was a junior officer to whom I hadn't been introduced. She ran off to the stables while I started to sweat. Even if the world was artificial, the embarrassment could be very real.

Grooms brought horses for the Hadyk ladies, and for Enver; servants carried stools to make it easier for them to reach the stirrups. I was slightly relieved to see that the mounts looked solid; not Clydesdales or Percherons, but not ponies or racehorses, either. Jashi was clever enough to bring a horse for me behind the others, so that not everyone would see my pathetic attempts to climb aboard. She had also shown the foresight to bring me a stool, too.

- "Thank you." I said. "Umm... will it be able to carry me?"

- "Yes, Lord." Jashi held the stirrup for me.

Okay. Full disclosure. I'm 6'4", and I weigh close to 275. It's not muscle, either. I'm as un-athletic as you can get, and I'm not in the habit of hoisting my overweight ass over anything higher than a chair.

Thankfully, the horse didn't tip over as I pulled on the saddle horn. What saved me was the simple fact that Jashi was a quick thinker - and much stronger than she looked. She put a shoulder under my ass, and power-lifted me high enough that I could swing my leg over the saddle. Then she caught hold of the edge of my breastplate so that I didn't topple over the other side.

I struggled to resume normal breathing.

- "Thank you." I got out. "Thank you very much, Lady Jashi."

- "You're welcome, Warlord. But I am no Lady. Just a Captain. I'm only half-Hadyk."

I wasn't sure what that meant. Half-Hadyk and half what? Jashi had curly blue-black hair, light brown skin, and was prettier than any of the Hadyk ladies I'd met, even though she had a sleepy or lazy eye.

- "Well, you're one of my favourite people in Dahlia, so far."

She snorted at that, but held on to my horse until Deondra arrived beside me. Then Jashi mounted her own horse, and took up position on my other side.

I'm not sure how much of that Lady Rona had seen. She was less than impressed, but she didn't make a fuss. We left the courtyard of the keep at a slow walk, and proceeded out the gate.

I tried to relax. All I had to do was stay on the horse. Deondra and Jashi were there to help, and I was reasonably confident that Jashi would be able to prevent a major disaster.

The main street was lined with troops, two deep. Behind them were civilians; peons, I suppose, though I didn't like even thinking of the word - never mind saying it aloud. There was a roll of drums as we appeared.

Physically, the soldiers were no different from those I'd seen in the courtyard. Half were females, the skin tones and facial features were the same, and they all seemed to have blue or blue-black hair.

The light infantry carried spears and swords, but no shields. Their armour was of leather. The archers wore no armour, but had a sword in addition to their bow and large quiver of arrows.

The cavalry were drawn up in an open space just inside the city wall, to either side of the main gate. The light cavalry had spears and swords. Their mounts appeared to be lighter and faster, too. The heavy cavalry were unmistakable; they looked like illustrations I'd seen of Byzantine cataphracts, with mail armour, lances, small shields and heavy swords. Their horses were huge, and armoured as well, at least on the front.

Lady Rona halted us there, so that two more Hadyks could ride over and be presented. Malusha Hadyk was a Darker-skinned, slightly cross-eyed cousin of Stephanie and Deondra, who lacked their charisma and beauty. She just didn't make that much of a first impression, I guess.

That wasn't the case with the second Hadyk.

- "My son, Moran." said Lady Rona.

Have you ever met someone when your first instinctive reaction was to curl your lip? It was dislike at first sight, and it was mutual. If you like the pouty, petulant emo band member who scowls because someone told him that it makes him look 'edgy', then you'd have loved Moran Hadyk.

- "Welcome to Dahlia, Warlord." he said, in a voice dripping with insincerity. He was no doubt offended by my big ugly mug and my big ugly body. Moran was a tad short, but he was handsome, and had a shock of perfect white-blonde hair. He took after his father, Enver, then.

- "Thank you." I said, skipping the honorifics. Fuck you, too.

Too soon? Too immediately hostile? Trust me: I met enough of these entitled assholes in high school and college to recognize the type. Moran Hadyk and I weren't going to become friends. He was probably the type to sneak snakes into my bed when I wasn't looking. Needlessly cruel. A bully. Haughty. That was it; it's a word that doesn't get used much anymore, but it fit him to a 'T'.

We turned about, then, and rode back to the keep. I was slightly more comfortable (or slightly less panic-stricken), and so was able to spare some of my attention for the assembled troops. I wished that I had some idea of how they would perform in a fight.

We reached the courtyard without incident. Deondra held my horse's reins, while Jashi gracefully dismounted, and came around to help me. It was nerve-wracking all over again. My weight didn't tip the saddle as I got my leg over the horse's back, but then I couldn't see the ground beneath me.

- "I've got you, Warlord." said Jashi. "Straight down." She actually took hold of my thick calf to guide me down. I breathed a sigh of relief as my foot safely touched the ground.

Deondra dismounted next. There was a squeal from across the courtyard, and I saw two children running towards us.

- "I hope you don't mind, Lord," said Deondra, "but you're about to meet my children." She raised a hand towards them. "Hep!" The two children stopped immediately. "That's close enough! Where are your manners?"

The little girl curtsied; her smaller brother bowed. They both had dark hair, and their mother's blue eyes.

- "Warlord Daniel, may I present my daughter Laqyal, and my son Palden."

- "Pleased to meet you." I said.

- "Are you going to win the war for us?" asked the little girl.

- "I certainly hope so." I said. It probably sounded better than the truth, which was that Julius Caesar himself couldn't have won against these odds.

Grooms took the horses away. I started to follow them.

- "Warlord? Where are you going?"

- "Oh - I wanted to see the stables."

- "There will be time for that anon." said Lady Rona. "Let us return to the map room." She led the way.

Hmm. They could call me Warlord all they liked, but it was clear who was in charge. As we turned towards the keep, I saw two more children off to the side of the courtyard. This pair looked a bit older, and unlike Deondra's kids, they were blonde.

- "More children?"

- "Ah... no." said Deondra. "Those are..."

- "They're only Half-Hadyk." said Jashi.

- "Like you?"

- "Yes, Lord."

Okay. I had a thousand things to learn about the Hadyks, their enemies, and their world - but I could already tell that I wasn't going to like everything (or everyone) I encountered. Only half-Hadyk?

- "Thank you, Captain Jashi," I said, "for your assistance today."

- "My pleasure, Warlord."

Deondra accompanied me inside. She had the grace (or the good sense) to remain silent.

***

Lady Rona was apparently assuming that I only had to stare at the map long enough, and a solution would occur to me. Deondra occasionally had a helpful suggestion, but otherwise she and Stephanie only watched me.

I went back to looking at the names of the cities. Amaranth, if I was thinking of the right plant, looked something like red quinoa on a stalk. I remembered something about one variety called 'Love Lies Bleeding' - which was also the title of a song by Elton John.

That's me: curator of a head full of useless knowledge.

I didn't know anything about Bryony. Wasn't it poisonous? Caladium? Your guess was as good as mine. Dahlias I might have been able to recognize. I knew that they came in all sorts of colours. Eglantine was a prickly rose, wasn't it? I was still astounded that they had a city named Flax. I knew what flax seed was for: a doctor had recommended that I take it to reduce my cholesterol and the risk of heart disease.

Goldenrod was a wildflower. Or was it a weed? Hyacinth and Ivy I knew, but Jacaranda? It sounded like a tropical plant. At this stage I was obsessing over plant names, and getting nowhere with the strategic situation.

- "Lady Rona, this isn't going to work. I'll have dozens more questions, but I have no idea what they are yet."

- "That makes no sense." she said.

- "I haven't had time to process what I've learned so far, and it's clear to me that I have a great deal more to learn. Any plan I come up with right now will be so terribly flawed that it'll be worse than useless. I... I'd also like to speak with you privately for a moment, if I could."

Again, the Matriarch didn't look happy. But she nodded to her daughter and her niece, who diplomatically withdrew to the other end of the room. Rona turned to me.

- "What is it, Warlord? What troubles you?"

- "That's it, right there. That's the issue. I'm not a warlord, Lady Rona. I've never been in a battle. The campaigns that you somehow know about weren't real. They're games. Simulations. Against a computer - not live human opponents. All I know about war or leading troops is a few things I picked up from books. I... I just don't think I'm the person you were hoping for."

- "You are, Daniel." she said, with absolute conviction. "The Gods would not have sent you to us, otherwise. That alone should give you confidence. But if you need motivation, remember that our situation is desperate. Our need is great. And there are great rewards to be won."

- "I don't need rewards..." I began. I mean, rewards would be nice, but they weren't going to be giving me any if I fell flat on my face and failed spectacularly.

- "Do you see my daughter, Daniel?"

I looked over at Stephanie Hadyk, who was talking quietly to Deondra. Yes, I'd seen her. She was beautiful, exotic, and serenely composed, a creature so out of my league that she might as well have been on another planet. Which I guess she was...

"She is my heir." said Rona. "The future leader of the Hadyks. Do you not think that she would be grateful to the warlord who saved us from disaster, who led us to victory? And she is unwed. Do you think that she would marry one of our enemies, now?"

Okay, that was pretty plain. Appeal to my chivalry and my ambition (or lust). Damsel in distress. Slay the dragon and marry the Princess. Got it. This was beginning to resemble the plot of the movie 'Shrek'. Any comparisons between me and the animated ogre are completely unnecessary.

I must have sighed, or maybe my shoulders sagged. Lady Rona saw it.

"I'm sorry, Lord Daniel. You must be tired. I did not account for how exhausting it must be to travel from another world. Or are you hungry? We will give you time to rest, but perhaps you should eat, first."

I wasn't really tired, or all that hungry. I was probably just... out of sorts? Was this just a dream that I couldn't wake up from? I'd had plenty of weird dreams before, especially the frustrating ones that left me running late, or worrying about an exam (even though I'd been out of school for years). If you'd asked me before today, I would've loved to have a dream about a game.

But was this a game? In many ways, that's just what it looked like. And yet... the people seemed so real. Lady Rona had the autocratic Queen part nailed down, but maybe I'd be the same if I was the ruler of a kingdom facing odds worse than two to one.

Stephanie might be a bit of an Ice Queen, but Deondra was warm enough. And her children... meeting them had affected me a little. And then Captain Jashi... I just had too many questions.

Lady Rona moved us all to a similarly-sized room on the opposite side of the hall. There was a table that could have seated twelve, but it was just the four of us - and about a dozen servants.

- "What would you prefer, Lord?" asked Lady Hadyk. "Roast pork? Venison? Trout? A stew, or soup?"

- "Whatever you're having, Lady."

Lady Rona frowned, but then solved the problem by ordering all of the above.

- "Lord Daniel, what is your own world like?" asked Deondra. "I am curious."

- "Deondra!" snapped her aunt. "Don't distract the Warlord with such questions! He has enough on his mind. We need him to concentrate on the problem at hand."

So I was spared the need to come up with an answer. But poor Deondra was embarrassed, either because she'd put her foot wrong, or from being rebuked in front of us. I tried to get her off the hook.

- "Perhaps you could tell me a little more about the other families? Their character, or their tendencies. You never know what might be useful to know."

Rona agreed with me. "That makes sound sense. Very well, Warlord. Let me begin with the Balabans."

- "Amaranth and Bryony." I said.

- "Correct." She didn't seem the least bit impressed that I'd remembered that. "Their troops' colour is red. The Balabans are very interested in technology. But they are fiercely proud of their heavy cavalry."

- "Is it better than everyone else's?"

- "No." she said, with a smirk. "The Morcars hold Caladium, Eglantine, and Goldenrod. Their colour is yellow. They are perhaps the wealthiest, as they grow specialized crops, and employ more artisans and craftsmen than everyone else. In warfare, they are typically the most aggressive. The Shorrs have Ivy and Jacaranda. Their troops are purple."

- "They have purple uniforms?"

- "Partly. But their peons have purple hair. The Shorrs are also darker-skinned. They consider themselves more artistic, or musical, and are most attached to their heavy infantry."

- "What about the Hadyks?' I asked.

Rona frowned again, but then nodded. "That is a fair question. Our colour is blue, as you have seen. We are more artistically talented than the Shorrs, though we prefer poetry and literature. We generally produce better strategists and tacticians than the other families."

Deondra wouldn't meet my eye when I glanced her way, so I wondered whether that last claim was true, or mostly wishful thinking. My musing was interrupted, though, when servants began coming into the room, bearing platters of meat, or vegetables, and a large tureen of soup.

There was no way. It hadn't been fifteen minutes since Lady Rona asked for everything. More like ten minutes. Had the cooks been tipped off in advance? How many cooks did they have, and how extensive were their kitchens? They couldn't possibly have microwave ovens. Could they?

I took a little bit of almost everything. It was all hot, and looked (and smelled) real. I wasn't really hungry, but it tasted great.

- "This is wonderful food." I said. "My compliments to the chefs."

- "That is not necessary." said Rona. "But I am pleased that you like it."

The Hadyks apparently didn't talk with their mouths full. Conversation flagged as we ate and drank. There was wine, which I tasted, to be polite - but what I know about wine could be written on my thumbnail. I did my best to eat everything on my plate, though. The moment I'd finished the last bit, servants appeared on both sides of me, with still loaded trays.

- "I couldn't possibly." I said. "But thank you."

The three ladies seemed to have finished eating as well, so I decided to ask a few more questions. I desperately needed more information. Maybe it was in their history.

- Lady Deondra, could you describe a recent campaign? Or do you have, umm... records of older campaigns?"

- "Both, Warlord." said Lady Rona. "I will have the Chronicles set aside for your perusal. But Deondra could certainly tell you about the last campaign, as she was junior co-commander of our forces. Go ahead, Deondra."

The matriarch's niece was nice enough to seek my approval. "If that is what you would like, Warlord..."

- "It is. Please don't leave out any details that you think might be significant."

Deondra seemed to be a very nice person. She just wasn't a great story-teller. Or maybe the story wasn't that great. It boiled down to this: four years earlier, the Morcars, allied to the Balabans, had declared war on the Hadyks, who were allied to the Shorrs. There were five cities (or production centres) on each side. Each one had begun with their peacetime complement:

1 Heavy Cavalry

1 Light Cavalry

2 Heavy Infantry

6 Light Infantry

2 Archers

That's when I started questioning Deondra more closely. Of course, she couldn't be 100% sure, but she was reasonably confident that all of the cities had then raised a 98 point wartime build. To refresh your memory, that meant:

1 Heavy Cavalry for 20 points

2 Light Cavalry for 20

2 Heavy Infantry for 20

4 Light Infantry for 24

2 Archers for 14

If all of the families acted the same way, and if every one left behind the same size of garrison, then their field armies would have been identical.

They were.

A great battle was fought near the Morcar city of Goldenrod. Deondra described spears being splintered, shields being shattered, and her uncle Olate dying when he fell from his horse and landed on his own sword.

- "Were many Hadyks lost that day?" I asked.

- "Only uncle Olate. And Enver was slightly injured when his spear splintered."

- "Those are... very light losses. For the people, I mean. I imagine that many more peons were killed."

- "Goldenrod was a very bloody battle." she said. "Thousands of peons on both sides were lost. But the Morcars had to abandon their ambitions for the time being."

That time being all of four years, I thought.

- "But only one Hadyk perished?"

Lady Rona had listened long enough; now she intervened. "You will not be in danger, Warlord. The peons cannot raise their hands against people. And the families do not attack each other personally. Accidents do happen, of course, but she shall make certain that you are well protected." She smiled. "You are far too valuable to us."

She'd misunderstood my concern; Rona thought that I was worried about my own precious skin. No wonder these people loved war: they weren't risking their lives. They could kill peons with impunity - as long as they were careful not to cut themselves with their own sharp weapons.

Lady Rona saw my frown; she had apparently had time to digest my earlier request.

"You may be right, Warlord. We should rest, and recover our energy. Then we can approach the map with fresh eyes in the morning."

- "Thank you, Lady. Would it also be possible to have some writing implements?"

- "Of course." Rona raised a hand, and one of the servants stepped forward. "This is Peony. She will show you to the chamber we have prepared for you, and then look to your needs. Whatever you require, Peony will provide it."

I didn't answer; I was too busy coughing and reaching for my wine goblet. Look to my needs? I don't think that I was imagining things; Lady Rona had slightly emphasized the word 'whatever'. I couldn't turn to look at Peony directly. The only impression I got was that she was very short, and that she dressed differently than the dining room or kitchen servants.

- "Thank you for a wonderful meal." I said. I rose to my feet, and bowed to Lady Rona, Stephanie and Deondra in turn. I nodded to Peony, and then followed her out of the room.

She was tiny. Less than five feet tall, if I had to guess. She wore a dark blue cloak over a light blue robe with black trim. Her hair, predictably enough, was so blue that it was almost black.

I wasn't paying attention to where we were going. If I woke up tomorrow, and was still in the world of the Decapolis and the Four Families, I would need help to find my way back to the map room. I had to laugh at that.

Peony must have heard me chuckle. She stopped, and turned around.

- "Lord?"

- "Oh - I'm sorry. I just... I just realized that I would be lost in the keep. Or anywhere in Dahlia, for that matter."

Her reply was unusual. "I will always be here, Lord, to help you find your way."

For the first time, I was looking directly at her. I saw her diminutive stature, the blue and black of her clothes and her hair, but for the first time I got an impression of her facial features. Peony had grey-blue eyes, large eyebrows, and a lot of forehead. Her face was almost triangular, given the difference between the top of her head and her relatively narrow chin.

But those details didn't dominate my first reaction. She was... like a porcelain doll. Maybe I'm expressing it poorly, but Peony had a vulnerability - a fragility, almost - that touched my protective instincts. At the same time, I saw her eyes, and recognized the intelligent person that lived behind them.

- "I'm sorry, Peony. Carry on."

She nodded, and turned to lead me further into the keep. In short order, we arrived at a doorway guarded by a pair of heavy infantry soldiers, one male, and one female. They were staring straight ahead, studiously avoiding eye contact.

- "Hello." I said.

- "They have been trained not to speak, Lord." said Peony. "They are not supposed to answer."

- "Oh. Sorry."

Peony led me inside.

- "This will be your bedchamber in Dahlia." she said. "I hope that it will be to your liking."

I'd always thought that 'chamber' was just a fancy old-fashioned name for a room. This wasn't just a room, though; it was bigger than my whole apartment back home. The bare stone walls didn't make it feel cold - they made it feel solid, and built to last. There were tapestries, wall hangings and rugs to warm it up, and a fireplace that was so clean, it didn't appear to have ever been used.

There was a writing desk, about half the size of a drafting table, and a pair of large chests on the floor, one against the wall, and another at the foot of the incredibly large bed. There was a wardrobe, and a small table with a pitcher of water and a basin for washing.

There was a window, too (it was just an opening, though, without glass). This chamber was obviously at the back of the keep; I had a view, over the city wall, of the countryside beyond. I saw an open meadow, and a small copse of trees.

When I turned back, Peony was still standing just inside the door. I blushed a little as I remembered what Lady Rona had said. Surely she hadn't meant...

Regardless of that, Peony could be a valuable resource. She wasn't a Hadyk, and she might be able to answer some of the questions I had - which I couldn't ask my hosts. I wasn't sure, though, that it would be safe to ask her; she would probably just report whatever I said to Lady Rona.

- "Could I have paper, Peony? And a pen or pencil, please."

- "I fear that we do not have the last item you named, Lord. Unless we call it by a different name. But I can bring pens and ink."

- "Excellent. Thank you."

I thought that I would have a bit of a 'sit n' think' while she was gone, but Peony was back before I got much farther than the 'sit' part. She had half a dozen sheets of high-quality paper, so exquisite that it was a pleasure just to hold them in my hands. With them, she'd brought several goose-quill pens, a small pen-knife to sharpen them, and two flasks of ink. She was accompanied by two more servants, who each carried three thick leather-bound volumes.

- "Here are the chronicles you requested, Lord."

- "Thank you, Peony. This will be perfect."

- "You are most welcome, Lord."

- "Umm... I'm just going to do a little writing and thinking, now. If you have something else that you need to do, or that you'd prefer to do..."

- "No, Lord. Attending you is my only task. As long as you are with us, I am here to serve you."

Ouch. At this point, I didn't know if I wanted to wake up in my own bed, to find that it had all been a dream, or to awake in this chamber, so that I could possibly help these people out by winning an unwinnable war.

- "Can I ask you something, Peony?"

- "Of course, Lord."

- "Do you think that the Gods brought me here?" I said. I was interested in what she'd say, but also curious to know if she would tell Lady Hadyk about it.

Peony somehow seemed to grow just a little more serious.

- "Yes, Lord. I believe that you're here to save us."

Wow. What could I say to that?

- "I hope so, Peony. I really hope so."

I found myself blushing a bit, so I turned back to the writing desk. Partly to hide my embarrassment, I examined the tools she'd brought. I would have preferred a pencil and an eraser, but I could make do with what I had.

I folded the first sheet of paper, and then used the little knife to cut it in half. I cut the halves into quarters, and then into eighths. I did the same with the second sheet, until I had sixteen little squares of paper.

On the first one, I wrote 'Amaranth', and then the peacetime forces that would be there: 1 heavy cavalry, 1 light cavalry, 2 heavy infantry, 6 light infantry, 2 archers. I wrote 'Bryony' on the second square, and then repeated the same units. I made seven of these squares, each one representing the forces that already existed in the seven production centres controlled by our enemies: the Balabans, the Morcars, and the Shorrs.

Did you catch that? I was already thinking of them as our enemies.

Next, I made a second square for Amaranth, writing down what Lady Deondra had told me was the standard wartime build. Why wouldn't our enemies go with the standard? However predictable, it would give them a better than two to one preponderance when it came to field armies. There was no way that we could build only one or two types of units and achieve any kind of superiority or advantage.

I spread the papers out as best I could on the little writing desk, trying to match their positions to the locations of their cities on the map I'd been shown. Three of the production centres - Bryony, Eglantine, and Ivy - were near the top of the map, and probably too far from the Hadyk cities to reach them immediately.

Likewise, the Hadyk production centre Flax was the closest to the bottom of the map. Dahlia and/or Hyacinth would be attacked first. Dahlia could be reached quickly by forces from Amaranth and Caladium, while Hyacinth could face the combined forces of Goldenrod and Jacaranda. It was even possible that Morcar troops from Goldenrod could join in an attack on Dahlia.

It was obvious that troops from Flax could reinforce Dahlia or Hyacinth. In the best possible scenario, we could have one battle at even odds. In that case, was it possible to win a decisive victory? Because nothing less would suffice.

Even if we scored a major win, there would be three more armies arriving. I couldn't see us achieving success by offering battle at even odds. Untrained troops against untrained troops? It could end up like the First Battle of Bull Run (or First Manassas, to the Confederates). But both sides there were also poorly led.

Deondra had said that we couldn't afford to lose a production centre. But I couldn't see how fighting battles against superior numbers was going to end well for us. It didn't end well for Hannibal, or for Robert E. Lee, and Frederick the Great needed a freaking miracle to save his ass. So far, I think that the Hadyks were expecting me to be their miracle.

If the enemy coalition was patient, and waited to gather all of their troops into one field army, then we didn't stand a chance. But Lady Rona had said that the Morcars were aggressive. Also, I doubted that any member of the their three-family alliance wanted to see the others claim the spoils.

I decided then and there that I needed to know more about the troops and their leaders before I could decide on a course of action. A lot more. That is, if I was still here when I woke up.

I stood, and stretched.

- "I'm only going to read for a while, Peony, before I go to bed. You can go, if you like."

- "I am fine here, Lord."

Weird. Definitely weird. But I didn't want to get her in trouble with Lady Rona. If Peony wanted to watch me read, then so be it.

The Chronicles were stuffy. Old-fashioned history, packed full of the names of the great Hadyks, listing all of the family members who had been present at this battle, or the storm of that city. The deeds of 'people' were fulsomely recorded; the peons were barely mentioned. I suppose it might mean something to you if you were a Hadyk, and your grandfather or grandmother was there.

The Hadyks had been lucky. Clever, too, but mainly lucky. They'd been on the right side in virtually every war - the winning side, that is. They'd eventually gained a second production centre when a coalition of exasperated families confronted an alliance of aggressive families, and beat them. Determined to avoid yet another confrontation, the coalition of defenders decided to eliminate the troublemakers - and share the spoils.

There wasn't much on strategy, though, or tactics. The armies marched here, led by so-and-so, and gave battle outside this or that city. That seemed to be about it. One side marched against a particular production centre, and the defenders lined up for battle. Were they all that predictable?

A strange thought occurred to me: what if this really was just some kind of game? The peons were obviously the nameless cannon fodder. But what if the families - like the Hadyks and their rivals - were just some kind of AI directed characters? That could bear thinking about.

But none of it mattered if this wasn't even real. If I woke up in my own bed (or if I was still there, and this was just a dream), then I was wasting a lot of mental effort for nothing. I stifled a yawn.

- "Lord?" said the ever-attentive Peony.

- "That's enough for now." I said. "I'll say goodnight, then, Peony."

- "Is there anything else I can do for you, Lord?"

- "No, thank you. I'm just going to go to sleep."

- "As you wish. Goodnight, Lord."

***

I woke up because someone was gently but firmly shaking my shoulder. I'm one of those people who doesn't snap awake; it's more of a stumbling progress from deep slumber to groggy incoherence and sullen resentment that my sleep is over. That someone was touching me should have been enough to let me know that I was still in Dahlia, but I had to open my eyes and see little Peony to be startled into full consciousness.

- "Ah!" By pure reflex, I jerked away from her hand.

- "Forgive me, Lord." she said, softly. "I did not want to disturb your sleep, but Lady Rona is already in the Map Room, calling for you."

- "Oh. Alright. I'll be there in a minute."

Peony didn't move. I didn't know how to tell her that there was no way I was coming out from under the covers with her there.

"Ah... could you wait outside, please? I prefer to dress alone."

- "I can help you dress, Lord." she insisted.

- "No. No, that's not necessary."

She could see how uncomfortable I was. "Very well, Lord. What would you like for breakfast?"

- "Umm..." Well, there was no harm in asking, was there? "Do you have coffee? Or tea?"

- "Tea with milk?"

- "Great. And maybe... some juice?"

- "Apple, orange, grapefruit, grape, peach, pomegranate -"

- "You have pomegranates?"

- "Yes, Lord."

- "I'll try that. Please."

Peony smiled. "Yes, Lord. And to eat?"

- "Nothing. Just tea and juice."

- "You should not skip breakfast, Lord. It's a very important meal."

I wanted to laugh. Here I was, getting nutritional advice from a five-foot nothing pixie in Renaissance costume, in an imaginary world, or some kind of wargame simulation.

- "Maybe you could bring a couple of apples to the Map Room for me. Please."

- "I will wait outside for you, Lord."

I guess I looked at her blankly.

"So that you do not lose your way, Lord." she said.

- "Right." I had said something about that yesterday. Was it yesterday? "Thank you."

Peony finally left, closing the door behind her. Then I got my next surprise. My t-shirt and track pants were neatly folded atop the chest at the foot of the bed - which was most definitely not where I'd left them. They looked and smelled fresher, as if they'd been washed. The only conclusion I could draw was that Peony had snuck into my room - my chamber - while I slept, to steal my clothes and have them laundered. Then she'd snuck back into to replace them. Had she not slept at all?

I put on the tunic they'd given me, over my shirt, but left the kilt and breastplate where they were. I picked up my squares of paper. In my track pants and bunny slippers, I left the room.

The three Hadyk ladies were already in the Map Room. If Lady Rona was impatient or annoyed because I'd kept them waiting, she hid it well.

- "Good morning, Warlord. I trust you slept well."

- "I did, thank you."

- "And was Peony satisfactory?"

I wasn't sure that I liked the way she phrased the question, but I answered anyway. "She's been a great help."

All three ladies were intrigued by my little paper markers as I place them on the map.

- "That is very clever." said Deondra. Lady Stephanie nodded in agreement.

- "But here is where you can help me." I said. "I imagine that the Balaban forces at Amaranth will march on Dahlia. But how many troops will be left behind as a garrison? And will their units at Bryony march to Amaranth, or somewhere else?

As she'd done yesterday, it was Deondra who fielded my military questions. Standard procedure, it seemed, was to leave five light infantry units as a garrison, supported by a company of archers. Six hundred infantry, then. This would be the case whenever a city was not thought vulnerable to attack, because it lay behind a superior field army, or was about to be reinforced. Essentially, I could probably count on all of the cities belonging to our enemies being garrisoned in this way.

Just as obviously, we could not afford to do the same in Dahlia and Hyacinth, which would both be immediately at risk.

The units from the most distant production centres would almost invariably march to the nearest city held by the same family. Thus the Balaban army at Bryony would head for Amaranth, while the Shorr forces at Ivy would head for Jacaranda. Where the Morcar army from Eglantine would go was anybody's guess. But that held true in the opposite direction; the enemy would have no idea where Hadyk units from Flax were going until they arrived.

It would have been awesome to have aerial or satellite reconnaissance, but it appeared that the fog of war was going to affect all of the contending families. I took another long look at the map, trying to gauge the distances between production centres. Was there an opportunity there?

Then I sat down and began revising my little paper squares. I left 5 light infantry and an archer unit at Amaranth, and then combined everything else into a field army. That would be 2 heavy cavalry, 3 light cavalry, 4 heavy infantry, 5 light infantry and 3 archer units. One thousand seven hundred troops.

There would be four armies just like that marching on Dahlia and Hyacinth. That would be a total of six thousand, eight hundred, most likely split into two equal forces. Three more near-identical armies would be coming up in reserve; another five thousand, one hundred troops.

The Hadyks couldn't risk leaving small garrisons, except at Flax. I just didn't think they could risk the majority of their forces in a battle at equal odds. No matter how successful (or how lucky) they were, it would have to be repeated against a force two and a half times larger.

I edited my little paper squares until I had seven enemy garrisons and seven enemy field armies. Then I moved the armies in the directions I expected them to take.

- "Does that look about right?" I asked.

Deondra could only nod.

- "That is why we need you, Warlord." said Rona. "We need a plan that will transform the situation. Turn things in our favour."

I took a deep breath. "That will require something unusual. Something highly unorthodox. But first, Lady Deondra, I need to double-check something I heard yesterday. Did you say that the ten production centres were almost identical?"

- "Yes. They are, for the most part. The differences are mostly... decorative? Artistic?"

- "But they're the same size? The walls are the same height?"

- "Yes, Lord Daniel."

- "Then I need to see Dahlia from the outside."

***

Deondra was nominated as my tour guide, which made sense, as the purpose of my little jaunt was predominantly military. Rona and Stephanie did not join us, but we were given an escort of 100 light cavalry, commanded by Jashi, the young woman who'd helped me yesterday. The Half-Hadyk.

I was certainly glad to see her when it was time to mount our horses, because I needed her assistance again - which she provided without me having to ask.

We rode slowly, partly for my benefit, and partly because there was no reason to hurry; I was only inspecting the defences of Dahlia.

The walls were in excellent shape; there were no crumbling sections, no obvious spots that would be vulnerable, or that could easily be turned into a breech. They had no siege engines? Was mining under the walls a possibility? The answers to my questions, according to Deondra, were what, and what? Sieges weren't a thing, in the Decapolis. If you sat outside an enemy production centre, they would create new troops inside the city, while your reinforcements had to come from farther away.

In fact, the walls looked as if they'd been built only a year or two earlier - by master craftsmen. There were no obvious weaknesses, and no growth of weeds or grasses on uneven spots. There was no moat, either. No drawbridge. These were things that I could change - given time. Time we didn't have.

It was a very odd little ride. Deondra didn't interrupt my thinking; that is, she didn't speak unless I asked a question. I don't think she knew what I was looking for (or at).

That gave me the freedom to surprise her with questions of my own.

- "Lady Deondra - may I ask: why are there so few children in Dahlia?"

- "There aren't so many children, Warlord. I will send Laqyal, and Palden to Flax, when the campaign begins."

- "No, I mean... I saw only four children, yesterday. Your son and daughter, and two more. Where are all of the children?"

- "Most are already in Flax." she said. She didn't seem upset; it was more like she was surprised by my intensity. "Don't forget, Warlord: we may be the most numerous family, but there are only 51 Hadyks - of all ages. Total."

- "Where are the peon children, then? What about them?"

Now she looked at me with complete incomprehension.

- "Lord Daniel... there are no peon children."

*****