BECMI Chapter 74 – Timely Political Contributions

It was plain that Erendyl expected Duke Enzefi to fail his task of managing the Duchy of Highwall. The terms of paying his back taxes for the right to name the next Duke if he was dispossessed basically meant we wanted him to fail.

“We will gain nothing from this if you are removed by violence, so do not expect direct action on our behalf. Furthermore, we will not aid you in recovering your duchy, be very aware of that, and Erendyl might very well intervene if someone does think to involve themselves in your management and bail you out.

“However, we will take direct action against the forces who are assailing your population, as it is they who are paying the price of your mismanagement. As long as they can pay themselves for their work and not be taxed, the adventurers are willing to fight in the Neros Alpes as readily as in the Bleaklands.”

“Are these mercenaries effective?” he asked suspiciously.

“Murderously so. You can expect the violence from the west to taper off significantly to completely over the course of the next month if you sign.”

He took another read of the paper, not sure what to believe. “All that, and I give Erendyl the right to name my successor if I cannot pay my taxes. I could… simply have someone else pay my taxes and my successor would be chosen at the capital as normal,” he pointed out pragmatically.

“You will be required to take a Blood Oath to do no such thing, of course, as this document also binds Erendyl to taking no direct action against you. You will find Erendyl by far the fairest of your neighbors… a fine secondary benefit, given how little aid Argencal seems to be spending upon you.”

He could not argue with that. “If I ask for time to consider this?”

“When I leave, I will not return. I believe that within six months, you will lose Highwall to absolute insurrection and pressure from all sides. Surviving that is your own problem.”

He grit his teeth in defiance of his fate. “Remove the raids, and I can manage the rest!” he swore fervently. “Give me a quill!”

Duum stepped out of his Familiar Pocket as I Called him out, flexing my fingers and cracking my neck in preparation. “All done, Mistress?” he asked calmly.

“Yes. The document is filed in the Tax Bureau and stamped, with all parties there having completely forgotten it, and a mild Charm about it to keep it unnoticed until it is time. The Duke will be dead in four years, Summoning up help he will fail to control, sabotaged by Fenkroft.

“We just have to deliver on sending some inciting mages from Tilian and Fuireze to early graves, and selling off some monsters for fun and profit.”

“Charms and Petrifying?” he asked reasonably, crouching down and his Saddle appearing for me to mount him.

“That seems an ideal combination.” I swung into his Saddle, Flight magic harmonized, and with a single flap of his wings he soared a hundred feet into the air, light as a soap bubble. “Let’s show these raiders the other side of magic used for political purposes, shall we?”

“As Mistress wishes!” my great Bat said enthusiastically. “Who are we hunting first?”

“The Tilians to their targets irregularly, but they are arrogant and don’t believe they are being Scried on in return, great masters of secrecy and intrigue that they are not, but believe themselves to be. They are intending to drive a tribe of gnolls out of the mountains next, so I think I will lay something of a trap for them. I even know where they are intending to to!”

He clicked his jaw in chiropteran approval. “And all we must do is not be seen?”

“for the win!” I decreed, and we across the range of towering dark granite mountains around us towards our target. I was icily confident I could deal with them, and had no more regard for those copper-skinned fire-worshiping racists than they did for the peasants and farmers they killed…

History would bear me out that I was quite effective, too. The raids from other powers would stop as abruptly as their agents vanished, and the pressure would become something subtler. Duke Enzefi would rally and fall, rally and fall, and eventually take a step he shouldn’t.

That I wasn’t going to change, and there would be no word of Lady Edge in this time period at all.

Fenkroft had never annulled the agreement, which was quite understandable, as he’d known nothing about it and it had languished in the Tax Bureau for years, right in plain sight, acknowledged by every minister and clerk and then promptly ignored.

In due course, despite a lot of protests and saber-rattling at Parliament, the new Duke Elamassri Erewahr, one of Brittabelle’s cousins and a hard and experienced warrior fully capable of handling herself, was ensconced as the new Duchess Highwall. She was soon turning the place upside down as she purged the place of the xenophobic elf-hating humans Fenkroft had attracted about himself, forcibly expelling or removing those who had supported the Duke, by violence if necessary.

Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

Her quiet maid, Courtier Sim #6, was always nearby in support of her, but otherwise scarcely noticed. That she basically represented instant communication with Princess Brittabelle was another secret we didn’t bother to let anyone know.

The Simulacrum was tall and more bronzed of skin, as if made from elves who chose the deeper woods. Her hair was also the bronze of stained maple, clearly different from most of the fair-skinned and largely blonde or silver-haired Sidhe elves of Clan Erewahr who ruled Erendyl. There were some elves from other Sidhe clans who ran red or black or even green of hair, but they were in the minority, not that it disturbed most of them. The Erewahr had ruled wisely and well for some time, and Belle unstintingly supported all of her people who wished to pursue magical strength, for it strengthened the Principality.

“Wonabelle,” I greeted her, and she smiled in recognition.

Brittabelle had never used Simulacra, a combination of elven reluctance and tradition depriving herself of an excellent way to gain powerful, loyal, and very flexible agents for her own use: lesser versions of herself!

A Sim had at most sixty percent of the power of the original it was made from. Sims from a hostile party could interfere with that, however, and of course you couldn’t make a Sim from something or someone stronger than yourself.

It was also not cheap to make without the right spells to help speed the shaping and Enchantment of the ice along. If you were making a humanoid form, you really wanted them to be a spellcaster so they could use to turn into a living being for extended periods of time.

Brittabelle was at the apex of elven spellcasting as an Elven Wizard/20, only six more levels of simple improved Spell Power possible before she hit the Immortal-enforced cap. That meant her Sims were all Elven Wizard/12’s… which were themselves still more powerful than 99%+ of her vassals. They also had a great deal of her experience and knowledge, did not get tired, did not have ambitions, and could be trusted to be appointed a task, understand why it was needed, and carry it through.

If they were , they could be healed like normal elves, and even bleed, could eat, engage in intimate relations, and so forth. As Constructs, they were difficult to repair… unless, of course, you had access to the line of spells, which took care of that problem completely.

Every Sim Belle made was another spellcaster with access to VI’s, capable of alchemical crafting, making basic magic items, going hunting for components, spying, guarding, monitoring, taking care of her garden of rare plants, artfully subbing for her in routine duties expected of a monarch, elves from the dead, and in effect leveraging her time with stuff she needed to have done foisted off on them… or stuff that really had to get done by someone competent.

The trick of using Sims, of course, was not to have their base forms look like your own. They could always to appear as her flawlessly, of course, but mostly they just themselves into flesh-and-blood versions of their own appearances… and like me and my Sims, their appearances were set by Belle into various appearances of her own design, based on other elves she knew and subtly altered from them.

They all still bore her Stat line and memories, but their base forms were all different from her. Indeed, most didn’t even appear as Erewahr elves, as she enjoyed mixing up their looks to appear as members of different clans, further setting them apart from her in the eyes of the curious.

I’d only helped her make up three Sims so far, but she was very pleased with them, instantly setting them to constant spellcasting and crafting duties she so rarely had the time to undertake. It was unwise for her to deplete her own magical ability in case of sudden attack, and so she had to be careful to never use up more than half of her own spells if at all possible.

Most of the Erendyl elves had absolutely no idea that the new Wizardesses were Sims, of course. The Sims were Wizard/12’s, which meant they Cast at 14. While the magic System here hadn’t evolved to Metamagicks yet… Metas were fine guidelines to making different spells.

An with a Duration of one hour per Caster Level was a Valence IV. Two of those kept a Sim as flesh all day, one of them lasting for any period of normal interaction with the living. Tying off two IV Slots to keep the spells going constantly was simple enough to do, and so everyone just thought that their Princess was recruiting skilled elven Wizards from Sidheduiche, which notion she did nothing to disabuse them of.

Wonabelle was the first of her Sims, called by most ‘Wona’. She looked like a member of Clan Hullivyl, known hunters and foresters of Sidheduiche, taking a different path than her kin, and so fitting in better among the magically-focused elves of Erewahr. If she was wearing clothing with designs very similar to Hullivyl’s people, that was surely mere coincidence.

Wona was powerful, generous with her time, industrious, seemed to know everybody already, and got along wonderfully with all the native elves, imagine that. If she was a little light and reticent on background stories, they chalked it up to a difficult parting from her kin for her path in life, and let it go.

She had also become the most productive bowyer and maker of magic Bows and Arrows in the principality in a very short span of time (a childhood passion of Brittabelle’s), was always willing to contribute to building projects, and had already replied to one urgent call for help from a border patrol, in to roast an invading company of orcs and rescue the soldiers from an overly strong attack.

“Lady Edge,” she greeted me warmly, always pleased to see me. I was responsible for her creation, after all, and she knew it well. “Prime is ready and eager to be about matters. Between the training and the events of the Duchy and getting us into place, this has been a stressful month for her,” she quietly informed me with a sigh. “It will be good to see her relax.”

I patted her on the shoulder. She was tall for an elfin, but so was I, towering at just over five feet tall. “If all goes well, when she comes back, you’re going to get a significant upgrade in your fighting potential,” I told her. “I understand your Amulet kicked in during the big fight.”

She was still a Construct, even if currently to seem like flesh and bone. Constructs did not have negative Health. If they hit zero Health, they crumbled apart and died, the magic on them failing as the Sims reverted to ice.

As a result, the first magic item they made was a Contingent Amulet, which stored a (Upcast V Version of), giving them thirty temporary hit points if any attack was going to reduce them to zero or less.

That could then be followed by a spell, which could either , , or otherwise whisk them away from danger, or they could themselves quickly, whatever was most needed!