Of Kings and Pawns

Chapter 4 - Years Gone By

The city of Augustino, a bustling city of commerce and culture, was now filled with rumors that a war was brewing from the centrals and the north. Even though years have gone by from the last war, the people of the Italo peninsula never forgot the horrors they've endured and the weight of participation only to gain nothing in return. The houses of the peninsula were never victors, only survivors of the games played by the great powers.

King Vittor Garivaldo, ruler of the ancient city stood by his balcony at his seat of The Hall of Caesar, gazing over the bustling streets below. Augustino had withstood the test of time... its armies, its people, its power. The kingdom was a bastion of tradition, deeply rooted in the old ways, far removed from the chaos that plagued the central and northern kingdoms. Yet today, Vittor sensed a disturbance, something creeping into his realm that felt more like the old ghosts of the past than the troubles of his distant neighbors.

A knock came at the door of his private chambers. Vittor turned, slightly annoyed by the interruption. "Enter," he commanded.

The heavy oak doors creaked open, and a cloaked figure stepped inside. Vittor’s eyes narrowed, immediately recognizing the man before him, despite the weathered cloak and the travel-worn boots.

"Ah, King Karl Osteryk," Vittor greeted, his voice filled with both surprise and curiosity. "I didn’t expect a visit from you, and certainly not in disguise. Snowreach is far from Augustino, and I believe the heat here is unbearable for your kind. What brings the White Lion to my halls?"

Karl pulled back his hood, revealing the gray streaks in his once blond hair, the deep lines of age etched into his face. Snowreach's winters hadn't been kind to him, and neither had the weight of fifty years of conflict and uneasy peace.

"Vittor," Karl said, looking at a former rival, "it seems time and distance can dull neither curiosity nor old wounds. I’ve come to speak with you about a matter of great importance... one that may soon affect us all."

Vittor smirked, walking toward a table where a bottle of wine sat. He poured himself a goblet, offering nothing to Karl. "Fifty years ago, we were at each other’s throats at the battlements near Tirolo. What could possibly bring you to my doorstep now?"

Karl’s expression darkened. "Otto Eigermann."

Vittor raised an eyebrow. "Otto? The boy you took in after the war in secret?" He sipped his wine, feigning disinterest. "I had heard he’d grown into a promising warrior. You’ve trained him well, it seems."

Karl exhaled sharply, walking toward the hearth where a small fire crackled. "I sheltered him, yes. Raised him as my own after the war. But I fear I may have made a mistake." He paused, his hand resting on the mantle. "Otto has grown... radical. Obsessed with the idea that the central kingdoms’ downfall was caused not just by our weakness, but by external forces... specifically, House Rus and the Elvish."

Vittor, still swirling his wine, snorted. "The Elvish? They’ve been a thorn in our side for centuries, but to blame them for everything? That’s a fool’s errand. They don't even have magic anymore, they're just nothing more than greedy men with pointed ears and purple eyes who think they still rule the world." He took another sip, his gaze piercing. "And House Rus? The North is too far to concern me. Let them squabble in their frozen wasteland."

Karl turned, his eyes intense. "It’s not just idle talk, Vittor. Otto believes the central kingdoms can only rise again by eradicating both the Elvish and House Rus. He preaches that the Elvish are the root of our failures, and House Rus working with them to take over the world, the reason the central kingdoms have been humiliated for the past fifty years."

"And what do the people think of this?" Vittor asked, intrigued now.

Karl sighed heavily. "They’re buying it. The lords, the common folk, they’re desperate. For fifty years, we’ve been forced to pay reparations to House Frank and House Brighton. Massive sums of gold, food, and resources have been drained from the central kingdoms. The lands we once prospered from have been stripped bare. If it weren’t for House Merrick’s intervention, reducing the demands, we’d have nothing left. Otto offers them a scapegoat, someone to blame for their suffering. They’re flocking to his cause."

Vittor leaned against the table, his amusement growing. "And you regret this? You regret raising the boy? Surely you knew he would want vengeance."

Karl’s face tightened. "I didn’t think he would take it this far. He speaks of war, Vittor. A war to unite the central kingdoms under one banner again, under his banner. And once he does that, he will turn his attention northward, to House Rus, and southwards... to Snowreach." His voice grew softer, almost pleading. "I came here, hoping... perhaps we could form an alliance. You and I. Against Otto’s ambitions."

For a moment, Vittor was silent, weighing Karl’s words. The firelight flickered in his eyes, but behind that gaze, something cold stirred.

"An alliance?" he repeated slowly. "Against Otto? No, Karl. No, I think I quite like this boy."

Karl’s brow furrowed in confusion. "Wha... what do you mean?"

Vittor set his goblet down, walking toward Karl with a bemused expression. "House Rus isn’t my problem. Let them deal with their own affairs. As for Otto..." Vittor chuckled darkly. "I believe I can support him."

Karl blinked, stunned. "You... what?!"

Vittor’s grin widened. "Frank and Brighton promised me lands during the last war. Lands they never delivered. Instead, they gave those lands to petty lords in the Balkans. False promises, Karl. That’s what I received in exchange for my loyalty... and two of my sons." His tone turned sharp. "Perhaps I should have sided with Eigermann’s family back then. Perhaps now, I can correct that mistake."

Karl stepped back, his face pale with disbelief. "Vittor, Otto is dangerous. He seeks to plunge the entire realm into chaos."

"Chaos?" Vittor laughed. "It’s only chaos if you’re on the losing side. Otto’s ambitions align with my own. Let him unite the central kingdoms. Let him purge the Elvish. Let him march north and face House Rus. It’s no concern of mine." He paused, then eyed Karl with a hint of mockery. "But tell me, Karl, why did you really come here?"

Karl’s lips pressed into a thin line. "I came seeking an alliance, as I said."

"And now you realize you won’t find one here," Vittor said coldly. "No, Karl. You came because you fear that Otto’s ambition will eventually consume you and your little kingdom in the Alps. You’re worried that Snowreach will fall beneath his banner, just like the rest of the central lands... and you will lose your crown to the very boy you raised."

Karl’s silence confirmed Vittor’s suspicion.

Vittor smirked. "So, go back to your mountain stronghold, Karl. Fortify your defenses, prepare your armies, tell your people that House Eigermann is coming. But know this: I will not stand in Otto’s way. In fact, I might even help him along the way."

King Karl’s eyes flashed with anger and betrayal. "I came here hoping for reason, for wisdom. But all I find is greed."

Vittor shrugged. "Greed? No, Karl. It’s just the way of the world."

With a curt nod, Karl turned on his heel, pulling his cloak tight around him. "Farewell, Vittor. I hope you’re ready for what’s coming."

Without another word, Karl stormed from the room, leaving Vittor alone with his thoughts. The King of Augustino stood by the window, watching as the sun began to set over his city.

"Let them fight," Vittor muttered to himself. "Let the central kingdoms bleed. It’s no concern of mine."

But even as he spoke, a small part of him wondered if perhaps Karl was right. If Otto’s ambition would one day stretch further than anyone had anticipated.