Duke Kord Becker

Special thanks to cover model Justin Johnson

Duke Kord Becker is a work of fiction. Names, locations and incidents either are a product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously.

Copyright © 2014 - All Rights Reserved

These are the things that you shall do: Speak the truth to one another; render in your gates judgments that are true and make for peace

~ Zechariah 8:16

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CHAPTER 1

Osso, thief for the king, watched Kord Becker. He stood in the nighttime blackness of the alley and fingered the gemmed dagger given as a gift from King Brukki.

His career had been short when he worked for himself. Pick-pocketing Knights Captain Stallord had been the end of his self-employment. He had succeeded in the theft, but some other meddling knight had seen. Dragged before the king’s magistrate, his fate had seemed certain; imprisonment, banishment, or indentured servitude. It would not have been a long sentence. Stealing a couple half-crowns from Stallord would not have warranted more than six months on any of the sentences. Banishment might even have been preferred, as he could simply restart his profession elsewhere. However, the magistrate must have figured the thief would do that and the sentence was a surprise to those watching: an interview with the king and his councilors.

The magistrate had not appeared happy. Acting on orders, most likely.

It was that fool Stallord, he thought. It had to have been him.

But his sentence was not all that bad: perform assignments for the king. He was paid well and housed in the palace. Stallord and others gave him dirty looks, but who was he to complain when he was offered a stable base from which to operate?

Out on the street, in the dark of night, he watched Kord drag a dwarf by the feet. Kord Becker had been a squire, he was told. Osso might have seen him once or twice, bumbling around Stallord and other of the knights outside the Chancellery. Unassuming, with dark hair and the stubble of a beard, Kord seemed an unlikely murderer.

Who’s the dead dwarf?

Then he saw the dwarf twitch and moan.

Dwarves had been considered myth up until a month prior when two of the creatures appeared asking King Brukki for passage through his lands. The rumor went something needed fighting and the dwarves were bloodthirsty savages who only spared the Palanisi Empire to save it for later conquest. Osso considered the rumor unreliable.

Deciding this was his moment, and firmly gripping the sheathed dagger at his side, he stepped out of the alley. Approaching quietly, he stepped close to Kord.

~ ~ ~

Dervik surveyed the latest batch of land cleared and being worked by the slaves. He turned to Togos, his ebony-skinned captain. The annoyed look on the man’s face was there, as it had been the past couple of years. He was a Komassian from the far north, and had served Dervik as Captain of the Guard when Dervik had been duke.

Back when things were normal.

Togos now served as captain of Dervik’s bandits. He had a feeling the man did not like leading shady elements. But whatever the man felt was of no concern to Dervik. Togos, we need more slaves.

~ ~ ~

Togos M’Maka glared at his former Duke. He hated what the man had become, no matter how successful at eking out whatever existence they could. They had survived the Tajumwali invasion, but only escaped with their lives - their Free Duchy consumed like a crop before locusts.

Would have been better to be eaten by the Tajum cannibals.

More than despising Dervik, Togos hated what he himself had become. Thrust into survival with his duke, they had slowly turned to banditry –only as a method of survival at first. They had preyed upon the Tajumwali, but were slowly forced south as the cannibals began mounting patrols to eradicate their nuisance. Then Dervik had struck into the Palanisi Empire and Togos had hoped their banditry would cease.

It hadn’t.

Passing through much of the empire, they had settled in the Duchy of Mernok – a sad collection of poor farmers and craftsmen. Their struggle against Gollos, the corpulent duke of the land, was brief.

They had then passed farther south, finding here a vast swamp. The Palanisi technically laid claim to it although no settlements existed there and the region was closed off by mountains. It was a back door to the Empire that no invader could imagine using. The seas to the south were rough and unforgiving.

Dervik had directed his small band of followers to start organizing the bandits. He merged them quickly: join or die. Slavery had followed – capturing farmers or children out of Mernok. There was no end to the poor, Dervik would say. The duchy was filled with them, barely scratching out an existence.

The slavery had turned mean, though. Several mass graves had been dug to put the bodies, but those became filled. Eventually they started dumping them at the foot of the mountain between the swamp and the rest of Mernok. Vultures circled there, feeding, waddling, and trying to fly. Wolves competed with the birds. Slaves too sick to work were thrown into the area to be eaten alive.

Togos hated what was going on. He could run, but could he hide from Dervik’s wrath? He had considered it many times and almost run a few of those times. If he did run, would the stain of so much innocent blood wash off of him? While they didn’t necessarily kill anyone, they worked them to death. Was that not the stain of guilt he saw on his palms?

More? he said. More slaves? More deaths? More guilt?

Dervik squinted at him. The man was taller than Togos. The former duke was bald with a goatee, his eyes hard and his stance full of threat and warning. Yes, more. I want workers to start reworking the quarry. We need stone for our capital.

Workers? Workers got paid. Dervik would have his men drive the slaves with the help of a few select slaves as muscle. More would die – their bodies lying afield and picked over by animals. It was no fitting way for a man to die. Not just men died, but also the women and children. All were expendable on Dervik’s projects.

Dervik sneered. They’re poor and weak, captain. They do us a service and we do them a service.

Was killing them by working them to death a service? Togos didn’t think so, but he knew Dervik did. I will see to it, he said. What was another twenty slaves? The stain did not lessen over time; what would the deepening of it hurt?

~ ~ ~

Kord hauled on the foot of the face-down dwarf. He wondered again for the fourth time in the last fifteen paces how he had managed to carry the heavy dwarf up from the Unfinished Halls back to the dwarven wagons the previous week. The dwarven venture into their old hold had been a disaster.

Marius had taken a swipe across the chest from a demon thing uglier than something floating in a cesspool. That was before Kord had stabbed the thing to death with some glowing staff that was supposed to be used for another purpose. The few surviving dwarves had hailed it a victory.

I'd hate to see what they consider a defeat. I don't think I will ever understand them.

He dropped Marius’ foot and wiped his brow. They stood near a street-torch in a small pool of flickering light. You said you could handle your drink, you heavy cow.

Marius mumbled something into the dirt of the street.

Kord reached down and grabbed his foot again. That’s when he saw the feet approaching, stealthily. Straightening, he yanked his dagger from his sheath not all too gracefully and tried to focus on the figure. He had drunk with Marius but knew he could never keep up. He had stayed almost sober. Sort of. His head swam a little and the street spun around him before becoming clearer.

By that time, the man was inside his outstretched arm and up in his face. He was a short one, with unruly black hair hanging in his eyes.

Put that away, the man said. With a light and fast hand, he snatched the dagger from Kord’s hand before he knew what was happening.

Give me that back. He grabbed his dagger back.

Sorry, I didn’t want you to poke my eye out with it. The man spoke in a fast and clipped cadence of speech. Someone nervous and on edge.

What do you want—

The king has assigned me—

Hey, give me back my dagger. Kord snatched it back. Somehow the little man had lightly taken it away again.

The man produced a rolled scroll. Here is my assignment. He placed it in Kord's hand.

Kord looked at it dumbly; it was the hand that had just snatched back his dagger. Where is my—

Oh, sorry. The man pressed Kord's dagger into his other hand. At the same time, the rolled scroll was taken from his other.

Kord growled. What are you doing? He put his dagger back in his sheath. Let me see that scroll.

Certainly. The scroll was slapped into his hand.

Kord unrolled it and scanned down the first two lines of Brukki's writing. He became confused. It was identical to Kord's own assignment to the Duchy of Mernok. How did you— He patted his pouch; his scroll was gone. Of course it's gone, it's in my hand.

Oh, that was yours? The man appeared embarrassed. He plucked a scroll from his sleeve, the same sleeve from which he had produced Kord's scroll. He snatched Kord's scroll back, placed the other in his hand and placed Kord's dagger in his other hand.

Kord looked down – his dagger was out of his sheath. If you don't stop that, I am going to stab you repeatedly and enjoy it.

The man's eyes grew big and he stepped back. I'm sorry; I often can't help myself.

He replaced the dagger into its sheath – again – and stepped back far enough so the man's flashing and frustrating hands could not reach it. He looked down again to make sure it was there. It was. Now give me my scroll back. He stretched out his arm.

Yours? Oh, yes, of course. The man returned the other scroll.

Stuffing one into his own sleeve, he unrolled the other. It was his. With a sigh and shake of his head, he swapped the scrolls and unrolled the other. He scanned down the familiar order. Familiar, but with names and titles changed. The man before him was assigned to assist Kord in administering the duchy. Osso?

The short man gave a short bow.

Marius burped.

Kord handed the scroll back to Osso. Quit taking things from me; that's your first order.

Understood, sir.

Don't call me that; I am not a knight.

Very well. Would you like help disposing of the dwarf?

Disposing? I'm trying to get him back to the palace.

Oh, I thought you had mugged him or something.

Kord sighed. Some little urchin over there picked up his helmet when it fell off. Go get it for me, please? Marius likes the thing.

His helmet?

Yes, it has horns on it. All black and evil looking. It will probably curse our private parts if we don't get it back.

Marius grumbled from below them. It will, too.

He said to Marius, Can you walk, yet? He was tired of dragging the dwarf. He glanced at the retreating figure of Osso as the man went to retrieve the helmet.

Marius got to his feet, if unsteady. Surely, man-thing.

Then why was I dragging you?

I was just enjoying a little rest.

Enjoying? You enjoyed being dragged face down along the street—

It was refreshing. Where's your dagger?

Kord looked down – his dagger was in his sheath.

Marius laughed.

Looks like he's coming with us.

I heard. Being drunk doesn't make me deaf.

There was a sharp cry and then a metallic sound. Kord and Marius looked up the street.

Osso emerged from the darkness, shaking his hand and holding the helmet. He had a supremely annoyed look on his face.

Kord raised an eyebrow.

Osso thrust the helmet into his hands. Then he shook his hand again, as if in pain.

Kord slapped the helmet onto Marius' head, sideways, horns to the front and back. What happened?

Marius glared at Kord and straightened his helmet.

Osso curled his lip. The little bastard bit me.

Kord chuckled. I would have, too.

But no one is that fast.

Marius said, He was and now you've met your better.

The short man turned a glare to the dwarf. No one is faster than me.

Marius cleared his throat.

Kord said, You got the helmet back, anyway. Our private parts thank you.

Yes, I clobbered the little bastard with it and sent him tumbling.

You what? Kord sniffed.

I hope the little bastard lost a couple teeth.

There was no need to hit the child—

The brazen brat bit me; he deserved it.

Marius said, I would have bit him back.

Kord shook his head.

Osso said, When do you plan on leaving for Mernok?

A week hence.

Why so late? Are you not eager—

I want to give the king's messenger time to deliver his orders to Gollos. And, no, I am not eager.

I would have thought you would be proud and boastful of your new position?

"Indeed,