"Young Lord, we have arrived at the harbor."
"So soon after landing? You didn't inform anyone you carry nobility, did you?"
"No sir. Slaphitori's capital is not a trade hub, so traffic tends to be lighter."
Hlapven stood up from his stool, the canvas he had only just finished setting up yet untouched. Fortunately he hadn't put paint on the easel. It wasn't exactly expensive, but he didn't want to waste it.
"I see. Have we docked yet?" A thump from the wall of his room gave him his answer. "I take it we have. I shall take my leave now, I am in a bit of a rush you see."
"Naturally, my young Lord. We shall await your return."
- - - - -
Hlapven had heard that General Arrelois did not pay much mind to the aesthetics that a noble should sport, but he couldn't imagine that would extend to his demesne. Just because someone wore clothing suited for combat to an imperial gala didn't mean that they liked a home that appeared dull, right? Obviously not.
Most of the nobility preferred their planetary capitals to be a the representation of their wealth, culture, and class. Art displays like statues and fountains could be found everywhere, and ordinances were routinely put in place to ensure that the designs of the buildings complemented each other visually. Hlapven had heard it described to him that the capital of a planet was the ultimate subject for a noble to display their ability. Walls could become canvases, buildings become clay to sculpt, the roads a musical score.
The city he called home transformed into a painting of the sunset when viewed from above, great amounts of wealth went into securing and maintaining the materials for the roofs.
It was one of the few places a noble could spend the excess wealth of their planet, and by far the most expensive. Rarely if ever were such expenses considered a necessity by the top lord of a kingdom, the Bulsarzian Empire had no such laws, yet everyone did so anyways. Much like clothing, it was a sign of the nobility. Nobody wanted to be ostracized because they didn't conform.
The grey stone and simple architecture Hlapven was greeted with seemed more in line with someone actively trying to go against that norm, not just ignore it. There were some flowers here and there, maybe even a fancy building or two, but it was abundantly clear that these were the actions of the people who lived there. And yet Hlapven couldn't call it dreary.
Dull maybe, definitely uninspired, but the lively attitude of the commoners he passed on his way to the castle told him everything he needed to know about how he governed. Street stalls were set up everywhere, the scents of freshly baked pastries and simmering meat competing for his attention and money, while happy subjects walked up and down the streets at their leisure. Guards patrolled with their heads held high, while children scampered around playing games.
Disregarding the background, this was what Hlapven felt every city in the Bulsarzian Empire, capital or not, should look like. This was the greatest Empire in the galaxy, the most prosperous and benevolent nation he knew of besides the Sanctum. Why should the subjects of the emperor be poor? He could see the point of those who believed riches would lead to instability, but how could they possibly revolt? They would know what life was like everywhere else and understand that it was the Emperor and the Nobility who were responsible for such prosperity.
"Excuse me sir! Could I interest you in some kebabs?" One of the vendors called out to Hlapven, clearly having marked him as someone who would have some money to spend. Had he been approached like this a few weeks ago he might have politely ignored him, choosing instead to continue on his way.
"Kebabs?" However now that he had been exposed to a glimpse of what commoner food could be, Hlapven was less inclined to dismiss him. "I'm afraid I am unfamiliar with them."
It wasn't like he was committing to anything here. If he found them unappetizing he could just leave.
"Kebabs? They're just meat, veggies, fruits, and shrooms cooked on a stick. 'Course I have some that are all meat, all veggie, all fruit, all shroom, and various combos of em, but most people like em all on the same stick." The man pointed to some of the racks on his stall. Sure enough, there were all sorts of colorful meat and plant impaled on little sticks. There was a slight char in places, but for the most part they seemed juicy. "Whaddya say?"
"I'll take three of your recommendation, all different of course."
"Coming right up sir." Part of Hlapven was still not used to his food being handled bare handed, however he recognized that this man only touched the sticks. "Three kebabs. One standard, one fruit and veggie, one shroom and meat. My personal favorites."
"That is fine by me. How much for them?"
"Fifteen Buls, five per." The man spoke to Hlapven with his back turned, wrapping the kebabs in a large leaf. "I can handle change."
Fifteen Buls? That didn't even qualify as pocket change. Hlapven fumbled around in his coin purse for a few seconds, looking for a coin with a small enough value. Confirming he had gotten the right denomination with a glance, he placed it firmly on the stall's counter.
"Here, 100 Buls. Keep the change, I don't have space in my purse."
"Oho? How generous!" The man grabbed a little loaf out of a box to the side. "Here you go, three kebabs for 15 Buls and a Kwiffel on the house. Take care of yourself!"
Hlapven accepted the food and nodded in thanks, heading on his way once more.
- - - - -
The kebabs were strange, sure, but they weren't beyond his expectations. They were simple ingredients after all. The most surprising aspect was the little bit of crunch brought about by the char. Hlapven didn't know if it was because of a sauce or seasoning, but every time he was met with that crunch he got a satisfying little burst of flavor. He had assumed it was just the natural juiciness of the ingredients, but further consumption had debunked that theory.
His final verdict: not awful, but certainly not something suitable for a noble.
The Kwiffel was much stranger. It was dry and flaky, qualities which were unappealing in isolation, but parts of it had this sort of jam. The location of those pockets seemed to be random, making every bite inconsistent, but Hlapven couldn't say it was bad. Confused about what to think about it, he decided not to categorize it.
"Halt!" He was brought back to the present by one of the gate guards. "State your business!"
"My name is Vido Wiradin Escs Hlapven Di Ird, you may refer to me as Hlapven. I seek an audience with Marshall Arrelois under the direction of Crown Prince Merndil Bulsa. I believe I sent a messenger ahead of my arrival?" Hlapven bowed, maintaining adequate distance between himself and the gate. This was proper manners for a noble approaching a castle gate on foot, and the guards responded with the correct level of respect. Lances back to rest position, one of the men walked back through the open gate.
"Please give us a moment." Hlapven nodded in understanding.
There was a very good possibility that these men were not privy to the specifics of his arrival. The courier was local, one who worked in General Arrelois' employ, so there was a non-zero chance they didn't even question him and just let him in. They would need to confirm Hlapven's claim with the messenger, who was likely resting on standby somewhere nearby.
"Is this the Lord Hlapven you were told to inform us of?" They were faster than expected, but it wasn't really a surprise. These men were professionals, experienced at their jobs. They would know how to handle these matters with swiftly.
"Yes, that would be Lord Hlapven."
"Thank you. You may enter, though we ask that you wait for someone who can guide you. The castle layout can be a bit confusing for those who aren't used to it."
"Thank you."
- - - - -
The exterior of this castle did not match the interior by any stretch of the imagination. Bright (but not oppressive) colors on every surface, paintings and sculptures expertly spaced along the hall, and a well maintained series of chandeliers to illuminated the hall. None of it could hide what these halls were originally built for, to repel an invasion.
They were wide enough to give adequate space for a noble or knight to utilize their speed and weapons. The abundant open doors along the hallway were blockades to buy time, their metal plating and thick wooden core an obstacle to everything but a battering ram or a god. Various stairways and hallways led to nowhere, while the winding halls promised to delay even the swiftest of intruders.
All of this made the glow-up that much more impressive. From his reputation, Hlapven couldn't imagine that this was the work of the general. It was far too refined, far too elegant, far too organized. Was it his wife? That was always a possibility. He found it hard to imagine that a proper lady would tolerate a home that appeared bleak both inside and out, but the servants themselves couldn't be discounted here. Certainly even he would have to act after a sufficient amount of pestering and chastisement from the people who served him.
"He should be inside this room." The maid who had been assigned as his escort stepped politely to the side as she gestured towards the door. "My Lord may be busy at the moment, so I would ask that you not interrupt him unless the matter you wish to discuss is truly that pressing."
Hlapven nodded his head before moving towards the door. Nervously placing a hand on it, he slowly pushed it open.
"-uld I be my cavalry units down on the other side of the hill to hide them or on top of the hill to give them the ability to react immediately?"
"It's a good question, and I am glad that you have asked it, but that decision is very situationally dependent." There were three men in the room, all standing around a massive map built into the floor. One of these men stood politely off to the side dressed in extremely formal wear, a butler of sorts.
The other two seemed to be in the middle of a heated discussion about something, close enough in appearance that they might have been twins. Obviously this was not the case, they father and son, but the fact that Arrelois had managed to sire a child so close in appearance to himself seemed to be a source of incredible envy on the part of other nobles.
"Ultimately, the only way you will ever figure out what you should do is by getting experience. These wargames are an excellent way to teach you strategies and tactics, but they do little to improve your ability to make decisions in the field. Unlike these maps, you don't get a full picture of the battlefield, and it is easier to hide your forces than you might think. It doesn't help that you won't get much time to think before you need to make a decision."
"That is what field exercises are for, correct?"
"Indeed, but once again those are not what I would consider a complete experience. I take it your time at the Sanctum illustrated that somewhat?"
"Yes, I always feel like there is something missing when we go out, however I think a big part of it is the difference in the troops, both quantity and quality."
"Mm, yup. I remember feeling the same. The commons soldier is not nearly as agile or powerful as even a below average nobleman, however they are far greater in number and infinitely more disciplined." The older man, General Arrelois, picked up two pieces of differing sizes from the floor and held them in his hands. "They will find killing a nobleman to be a nigh impossible under most circumstances, however I have taught you that is not their job. A single man cannot occupy a city by himself, and even gods will find themselves pushed to the brink should enough meat be piled before them. By sacrificing a few of them to occupy and weaken a powerful combatant, opportunities can be created that will open the path to victory if properly acted upon."
"I cannot say that I am comfortable with sacrificing our people father."
"I would never expect you to be. You must always remember that the sacrifice of a few may save the lives of many others, securing victory means their lives were not wasted."
"So long as what that victory achieves was worth fighting for."
"Well said. Well said. It is to that end that you must become a better tactician and strategist. Individual battles between soldiers may not seem to have a great influence over the course of a war, but I can attest to the fact that slowly draining away your enemy's shield, their wall of flesh, will make the battle easier. It is why I have been pounding the theories behind army maneuver into your head."
"I see. Shall we go for another round? On the plains this time?"
"That sounds good to me. How much of a handicap do you want?"
"I think I can get by with four more infantry regiments."
"If you are that confident, then you may be my guest. Brethold, please reset the board. Plains, 250 units of standard composition for myself, 250 units of standard composition for Arrewiz, plus 40 infantry." Arrelois turned back to his son. "Would you like to determine their starting positions or should Brethold?"
"Brethold, please set up my extra units two paces behind my front lines as reserves."
"As you wish Young Lord, however I do believe there is someone who should be addressed before you two continue." Brethold nodded to Hlapven, who had stiffened up the instant he remembered why he was here.
"My apologies if I am interrupting." He bowed slightly to General Arrelois, a demonstration that he recognized him as someone of higher status. "The news I have is important, but I am willing to wait."
"No, no. You're fine. Sorry Arrewiz, looks like we won't be going for another round after all." The general smiled at his son, winking as he did so.
"A pity." Arrewiz rolled his eyes. "I suppose I will just have to go do something else."
"Ah, no. You should come with. If it is news from the crown prince then I'm sure you'll need to hear it as well."
"Actually," Hlapven put a stop in that cask before something spilled, "I was strictly told that this information was for your ears only. Should you decide this is something he needs to know as well you may tell him, but I would like to follow my orders exactly."
"Ah, right, yeah. Matter of national security. Sorry Wiz, it'll have to wait until dinner."
"How dreadful!" A monotone mockery. Despite his enthusiasm during the lesson here, it was pretty obvious that he didn't much like going along with his father's joking. "To be left out of my father's business, my ailing heart shall never recover."
Arrelois smiled as he walked out the door with Hlapven.
"What a brat."
"Young Lord, we have arrived at the harbor."
"So soon after landing? You didn't inform anyone you carry nobility, did you?"
"No sir. Slaphitori's capital is not a trade hub, so traffic tends to be lighter."
Hlapven stood up from his stool, the canvas he had only just finished setting up yet untouched. Fortunately he hadn't put paint on the easel. It wasn't exactly expensive, but he didn't want to waste it.
"I see. Have we docked yet?" A thump from the wall of his room gave him his answer. "I take it we have. I shall take my leave now, I am in a bit of a rush you see."
"Naturally, my young Lord. We shall await your return."
- - - - -
Hlapven had heard that General Arrelois did not pay much mind to the aesthetics that a noble should sport, but he couldn't imagine that would extend to his demesne. Just because someone wore clothing suited for combat to an imperial gala didn't mean that they liked a home that appeared dull, right? Obviously not.
Most of the nobility preferred their planetary capitals to be a the representation of their wealth, culture, and class. Art displays like statues and fountains could be found everywhere, and ordinances were routinely put in place to ensure that the designs of the buildings complemented each other visually. Hlapven had heard it described to him that the capital of a planet was the ultimate subject for a noble to display their ability. Walls could become canvases, buildings become clay to sculpt, the roads a musical score.
The city he called home transformed into a painting of the sunset when viewed from above, great amounts of wealth went into securing and maintaining the materials for the roofs.
It was one of the few places a noble could spend the excess wealth of their planet, and by far the most expensive. Rarely if ever were such expenses considered a necessity by the top lord of a kingdom, the Bulsarzian Empire had no such laws, yet everyone did so anyways. Much like clothing, it was a sign of the nobility. Nobody wanted to be ostracized because they didn't conform.
The grey stone and simple architecture Hlapven was greeted with seemed more in line with someone actively trying to go against that norm, not just ignore it. There were some flowers here and there, maybe even a fancy building or two, but it was abundantly clear that these were the actions of the people who lived there. And yet Hlapven couldn't call it dreary.
Dull maybe, definitely uninspired, but the lively attitude of the commoners he passed on his way to the castle told him everything he needed to know about how he governed. Street stalls were set up everywhere, the scents of freshly baked pastries and simmering meat competing for his attention and money, while happy subjects walked up and down the streets at their leisure. Guards patrolled with their heads held high, while children scampered around playing games.
Disregarding the background, this was what Hlapven felt every city in the Bulsarzian Empire, capital or not, should look like. This was the greatest Empire in the galaxy, the most prosperous and benevolent nation he knew of besides the Sanctum. Why should the subjects of the emperor be poor? He could see the point of those who believed riches would lead to instability, but how could they possibly revolt? They would know what life was like everywhere else and understand that it was the Emperor and the Nobility who were responsible for such prosperity.
"Excuse me sir! Could I interest you in some kebabs?" One of the vendors called out to Hlapven, clearly having marked him as someone who would have some money to spend. Had he been approached like this a few weeks ago he might have politely ignored him, choosing instead to continue on his way.
"Kebabs?" However now that he had been exposed to a glimpse of what commoner food could be, Hlapven was less inclined to dismiss him. "I'm afraid I am unfamiliar with them."
It wasn't like he was committing to anything here. If he found them unappetizing he could just leave.
"Kebabs? They're just meat, veggies, fruits, and shrooms cooked on a stick. 'Course I have some that are all meat, all veggie, all fruit, all shroom, and various combos of em, but most people like em all on the same stick." The man pointed to some of the racks on his stall. Sure enough, there were all sorts of colorful meat and plant impaled on little sticks. There was a slight char in places, but for the most part they seemed juicy. "Whaddya say?"
"I'll take three of your recommendation, all different of course."
"Coming right up sir." Part of Hlapven was still not used to his food being handled bare handed, however he recognized that this man only touched the sticks. "Three kebabs. One standard, one fruit and veggie, one shroom and meat. My personal favorites."
"That is fine by me. How much for them?"
"Fifteen Buls, five per." The man spoke to Hlapven with his back turned, wrapping the kebabs in a large leaf. "I can handle change."
Fifteen Buls? That didn't even qualify as pocket change. Hlapven fumbled around in his coin purse for a few seconds, looking for a coin with a small enough value. Confirming he had gotten the right denomination with a glance, he placed it firmly on the stall's counter.
"Here, 100 Buls. Keep the change, I don't have space in my purse."
"Oho? How generous!" The man grabbed a little loaf out of a box to the side. "Here you go, three kebabs for 15 Buls and a Kwiffel on the house. Take care of yourself!"
Hlapven accepted the food and nodded in thanks, heading on his way once more.
- - - - -
The kebabs were strange, sure, but they weren't beyond his expectations. They were simple ingredients after all. The most surprising aspect was the little bit of crunch brought about by the char. Hlapven didn't know if it was because of a sauce or seasoning, but every time he was met with that crunch he got a satisfying little burst of flavor. He had assumed it was just the natural juiciness of the ingredients, but further consumption had debunked that theory.
His final verdict: not awful, but certainly not something suitable for a noble.
The Kwiffel was much stranger. It was dry and flaky, qualities which were unappealing in isolation, but parts of it had this sort of jam. The location of those pockets seemed to be random, making every bite inconsistent, but Hlapven couldn't say it was bad. Confused about what to think about it, he decided not to categorize it.
"Halt!" He was brought back to the present by one of the gate guards. "State your business!"
"My name is Vido Wiradin Escs Hlapven Di Ird, you may refer to me as Hlapven. I seek an audience with Marshall Arrelois under the direction of Crown Prince Merndil Bulsa. I believe I sent a messenger ahead of my arrival?" Hlapven bowed, maintaining adequate distance between himself and the gate. This was proper manners for a noble approaching a castle gate on foot, and the guards responded with the correct level of respect. Lances back to rest position, one of the men walked back through the open gate.
"Please give us a moment." Hlapven nodded in understanding.
There was a very good possibility that these men were not privy to the specifics of his arrival. The courier was local, one who worked in General Arrelois' employ, so there was a non-zero chance they didn't even question him and just let him in. They would need to confirm Hlapven's claim with the messenger, who was likely resting on standby somewhere nearby.
"Is this the Lord Hlapven you were told to inform us of?" They were faster than expected, but it wasn't really a surprise. These men were professionals, experienced at their jobs. They would know how to handle these matters with swiftly.
"Yes, that would be Lord Hlapven."
"Thank you. You may enter, though we ask that you wait for someone who can guide you. The castle layout can be a bit confusing for those who aren't used to it."
"Thank you."
- - - - -
The exterior of this castle did not match the interior by any stretch of the imagination. Bright (but not oppressive) colors on every surface, paintings and sculptures expertly spaced along the hall, and a well maintained series of chandeliers to illuminated the hall. None of it could hide what these halls were originally built for, to repel an invasion.
They were wide enough to give adequate space for a noble or knight to utilize their speed and weapons. The abundant open doors along the hallway were blockades to buy time, their metal plating and thick wooden core an obstacle to everything but a battering ram or a god. Various stairways and hallways led to nowhere, while the winding halls promised to delay even the swiftest of intruders.
All of this made the glow-up that much more impressive. From his reputation, Hlapven couldn't imagine that this was the work of the general. It was far too refined, far too elegant, far too organized. Was it his wife? That was always a possibility. He found it hard to imagine that a proper lady would tolerate a home that appeared bleak both inside and out, but the servants themselves couldn't be discounted here. Certainly even he would have to act after a sufficient amount of pestering and chastisement from the people who served him.
"He should be inside this room." The maid who had been assigned as his escort stepped politely to the side as she gestured towards the door. "My Lord may be busy at the moment, so I would ask that you not interrupt him unless the matter you wish to discuss is truly that pressing."
Hlapven nodded his head before moving towards the door. Nervously placing a hand on it, he slowly pushed it open.
"-uld I be my cavalry units down on the other side of the hill to hide them or on top of the hill to give them the ability to react immediately?"
"It's a good question, and I am glad that you have asked it, but that decision is very situationally dependent." There were three men in the room, all standing around a massive map built into the floor. One of these men stood politely off to the side dressed in extremely formal wear, a butler of sorts.
The other two seemed to be in the middle of a heated discussion about something, close enough in appearance that they might have been twins. Obviously this was not the case, they father and son, but the fact that Arrelois had managed to sire a child so close in appearance to himself seemed to be a source of incredible envy on the part of other nobles.
"Ultimately, the only way you will ever figure out what you should do is by getting experience. These wargames are an excellent way to teach you strategies and tactics, but they do little to improve your ability to make decisions in the field. Unlike these maps, you don't get a full picture of the battlefield, and it is easier to hide your forces than you might think. It doesn't help that you won't get much time to think before you need to make a decision."
"That is what field exercises are for, correct?"
"Indeed, but once again those are not what I would consider a complete experience. I take it your time at the Sanctum illustrated that somewhat?"
"Yes, I always feel like there is something missing when we go out, however I think a big part of it is the difference in the troops, both quantity and quality."
"Mm, yup. I remember feeling the same. The commons soldier is not nearly as agile or powerful as even a below average nobleman, however they are far greater in number and infinitely more disciplined." The older man, General Arrelois, picked up two pieces of differing sizes from the floor and held them in his hands. "They will find killing a nobleman to be a nigh impossible under most circumstances, however I have taught you that is not their job. A single man cannot occupy a city by himself, and even gods will find themselves pushed to the brink should enough meat be piled before them. By sacrificing a few of them to occupy and weaken a powerful combatant, opportunities can be created that will open the path to victory if properly acted upon."
"I cannot say that I am comfortable with sacrificing our people father."
"I would never expect you to be. You must always remember that the sacrifice of a few may save the lives of many others, securing victory means their lives were not wasted."
"So long as what that victory achieves was worth fighting for."
"Well said. Well said. It is to that end that you must become a better tactician and strategist. Individual battles between soldiers may not seem to have a great influence over the course of a war, but I can attest to the fact that slowly draining away your enemy's shield, their wall of flesh, will make the battle easier. It is why I have been pounding the theories behind army maneuver into your head."
"I see. Shall we go for another round? On the plains this time?"
"That sounds good to me. How much of a handicap do you want?"
"I think I can get by with four more infantry regiments."
"If you are that confident, then you may be my guest. Brethold, please reset the board. Plains, 250 units of standard composition for myself, 250 units of standard composition for Arrewiz, plus 40 infantry." Arrelois turned back to his son. "Would you like to determine their starting positions or should Brethold?"
"Brethold, please set up my extra units two paces behind my front lines as reserves."
"As you wish Young Lord, however I do believe there is someone who should be addressed before you two continue." Brethold nodded to Hlapven, who had stiffened up the instant he remembered why he was here.
"My apologies if I am interrupting." He bowed slightly to General Arrelois, a demonstration that he recognized him as someone of higher status. "The news I have is important, but I am willing to wait."
"No, no. You're fine. Sorry Arrewiz, looks like we won't be going for another round after all." The general smiled at his son, winking as he did so.
"A pity." Arrewiz rolled his eyes. "I suppose I will just have to go do something else."
"Ah, no. You should come with. If it is news from the crown prince then I'm sure you'll need to hear it as well."
"Actually," Hlapven put a stop in that cask before something spilled, "I was strictly told that this information was for your ears only. Should you decide this is something he needs to know as well you may tell him, but I would like to follow my orders exactly."
"Ah, right, yeah. Matter of national security. Sorry Wiz, it'll have to wait until dinner."
"How dreadful!" A monotone mockery. Despite his enthusiasm during the lesson here, it was pretty obvious that he didn't much like going along with his father's joking. "To be left out of my father's business, my ailing heart shall never recover."
Arrelois smiled as he walked out the door with Hlapven.
"What a brat."
