The Half Dwarf Prince: 02 - The Dwarf War Page 7

  He walked out of his room to find a man waiting in a chair outside his door. “What are you doing?” he asked the man as he stood up.

  “My name is Rupert, sir. I am your personal attendant. I will see to all of your needs during your time here in Portwein,” the man said.

  Bergmann looked the tall man over. He had a ball of curls on top of his head. He had never seen hair that curled so tightly. He had brown eyes whose expression suggested this man was much more sure of himself than he appeared. He made a point of being submissive and seeming weak, but his eyes gave him away.

  “And report back to your king everything I do,” Bergmann said.

  Rupert started to respond, but Bergmann cut him off. “Don’t try to lie to me. Your eyes gave you away; you should work on that. Don’t worry, you can follow me around and bring me food and drink. You can report whatever you want to that pathetic king. I might even let you wipe my arse for me.”

  “If that is your wish, sir,” Rupert said without even flinching.

  Bergmann couldn’t help but laugh. “You know your job, and you can keep your head about you—that’s more than I can say for your king. Well, let’s get going, then. For now, you will be my guide. I want to go to where the troops will assemble.”

  “I would be happy to guide you, sir, but I feel I should inform you that they will not be ready for a few hours yet,” Rupert said.

  “Of course they won’t. I want to see how they operate, though. I won’t go in there and see what they plan for me to see. If I show up early I get to see how skilled the commanders are at moving their troops. I will see how organized the units are. What good does it do to see a bunch of men standing in a line? What good is it seeing men do some drills that they have rehearsed? No, I don’t want to see the frosting. I want to see what they are hiding under it. You already understand all this though, don’t you?”

  Rupert avoided the question. “Will you not be taking breakfast then, King Bergmann?”

  “I don’t want the king’s pretty plates. I am sure you know somewhere near our destination where we can get something to eat,” Bergmann responded.

  “I may know a place,” Rupert said. “Should we go and gather your guard, or shall I summon some of the palace guards?” Rupert asked.

  “My dwarves know their job. Leave the guards. Let’s go get something to eat,” he told the tall, curly-headed man.

  “As you wish. If you will follow me, King Bergmann,” Rupert said, turning and heading down the hallway.

  At least he is not calling me Your Highness, or any of those other fluff names that the human kings were so fond of, Bergmann thought. He followed the man through the halls of the palace. He passed the ridiculously colorful banners hanging on the walls. He couldn’t help but take notice of one. It depicted a line of men on horseback, chasing dwarves. The dwarves had dropped their weapons and were running away. He stopped. “What is this?”

  Rupert stopped and turned around. He walked over next to Bergmann and looked up at the banner. “I believe this is supposed to represent a scene from a battle that took place some hundred and fifty years ago, King Bergmann.”

  Bergmann looked over at Rupert. “This appears to show that the men won this battle.”

  “That is what our history tells us. I do not know a great deal of the story, but the general idea is that sometime about one hundred and fifty years ago, one of the dwarf clans attacked Portwein, and King Arnold Merwein, our current king’s great-great-grandfather, lead an army to run the dwarf army off. I apologize if this is offensive, King Bergmann.”

  Bergmann looked over at Rupert. “The only thing I find offensive about it is that it is a lie.”

  “History is often misinterpreted over time, King Bergmann,” Rupert said.

  Bergmann turned and looked up into the man’s eyes. To his credit he did not fold like his king. “It was one hundred and thirty-three years ago. Your King Arnold Merwein asked the dwarves of Tiefes Loch to trade him steel to make weapons. The desert tribes were coming out of the Einode and attacking all of the trade caravans. He was planning on consolidating the caravans into much larger groups and sending units of soldiers to protect them. When we showed up to the meeting place, his soldiers ambushed us and attempted to take the steel. His soldiers all died that day, and only the men on horseback escaped with your king.”

  “You were there, King Bergmann?” Rupert asked with honest interest.

  Bergmann turned his head to the side, revealing the scar that ran along the base of his neck on the left side. “The ambush was initiated by a bowman firing at me. King Arnold was a fool. Had I fallen, Tiefes Loch would have marched on Portwein and burned the city to the ground.”

  Rupert nodded his head. “I believe what you say, King Bergmann. It is not a secret that men who write their own history most often write it to reflect themselves as the heroes. King Arnold Merwein could not have told the story as you did or he would have tainted his own legacy.”

  “I am not interested in convincing you of the nobility of my kin, nor the dishonor of yours. We are who we are. What matters is what we are doing now, and right now what I am trying to do is eat something,” Bergmann said.

  “As you wish, King Bergmann,” Rupert said, and turned down the hall that would lead them out of the palace.

  When they were outside the palace and the courtyard, walking down the dirt streets of the city, Rupert looked over at Bergmann. “I don’t mean to pry, King Bergmann, but after the story you told me, I am curious why you would travel through the city without security.”

  Bergmann stopped. “Maybe you’re not as observant as I thought.”

  The man looked at him, and then began scanning the city around them. On rooftops on both sides of the block were dwarf crossbowmen. On both of the streets that paralleled the one they were walking on were a dozen dwarves shadowing their movement. The man nodded his understanding. Rupert didn’t lose his composure, but Bergmann knew that he was upset with himself for not realizing it sooner. He had likely been distracted thinking about their earlier conversation. He began walking again.

  “The place is just around the next corner, King Bergmann.”

  Rupert led him to a corner building. It was one of the few buildings they had passed that was made of stone. A steady stream of smoke poured from a chimney, and they could smell meat cooking a block before they reached the place. The storefront was just a big window in one wall, with no door in sight. Rupert walked up to the big window.

  “Good morning, Miss Patricia. How are you today?”

  Bergmann was not attracted to human women, but he could tell the difference between women they considered attractive and unattractive. The woman in the window would be considered an average-looking woman, but she attempted to be more attractive by letting her hair hang down over one side of her face and wearing a blouse that just barely covered her chest. She smiled flirtatiously at Rupert.

  “Oh, I’m just fine, Mister Rupert. You want the pies this morning?” she asked, slurring her words heavily.

  “Two of them, fresh ones now, Miss Patricia. This is King Bergmann. You want to make a good impression.”

  “Ah, good morning, Highness,” she said, looking over at Bergmann.

  Bergmann just stared at the woman. She shrugged her shoulders and turned away from the window. She returned with two thin, tin plates with some kind of pie on them. The dough had been baked into a shallow bowl shape and inside were chunks of meat and vegetables with some kind of sauce over them. Rupert handed the woman a couple of coins and took the plates.

  “Thank you, Rupert, you have a good one now,” she said, turning back into the shop.

  Rupert turned to Bergmann and held out one of the plates. “Something like this could never be served in the palace. I am sure you can understand why, but I believe it will be to your liking.”

  Bergmann picked the pie up off the plate and bit into it. Rupert was right. This would never be an acceptable meal in the palace. It was messy, and the
only way to eat it was to pick it up and bite into it. The meat was juicy and tender, though, and the sauce was salty and spicy. It was actually pretty good. He wouldn’t have thought he would have enjoyed any of the food in the city, but this surprised him.

  “This is good, Rupert. Maybe we will hire someone to come with the army and make this. Now let’s head over to the assembly area and watch the show.”

  Rupert led him there, and when Bergmann saw the huge open area at the edge of the city, he stopped. “Hold up, Rupert.”

  “Would you like me to take you to a place where you will have a good view of the entire parade field, King Bergmann?” Rupert asked, guessing why they had stopped.

  Bergmann nodded, and Rupert led him to a three-story building two streets away. There were stairs on the outside of the building leading all the way to the roof. Rupert led the way up the steps. From the rooftop Bergmann could see the entire field. It had to be a thousand paces across and five to six hundred from front to rear.

  It was another hour before the first soldiers began showing up. It was only one company. One hundred soldiers came out and fell into ranks. Their commander walked out in front of them and began giving them commands. They marched around the parade field. They went through the drills that were no doubt planned to be Bergmann’s first impression of the army. All of the soldiers drew their weapons at one time and pointed them in the air. On the next command, all of the soldiers brought their swords down in front of their faces. On the next command, all of the swords pointed to the ground as one. The next command brought the weapons back up in front of the soldier’s faces. The final command sent all the swords back into their scabbards as one. This group was well trained. They had discipline, and their commander was capable. They went through the drills a few more times. Eventually they broke into smaller groups and began some fighting drills. He watched as the men moved in fluid movements, slashing and stabbing. Bergmann observed the techniques and made mental notes.

  It was another hour before the next group of soldiers showed up—a full battalion of five companies. These soldiers spent all of their time going over the parade drills the first company had started with. Not long after that group showed up, another battalion arrived, and the first company went and fell into their ranks.

  This battalion was terrible. The men struggled through movements, they were undisciplined, and their commander was weak. Other than the first company, which had come out early, the other companies’ commanders didn’t show much promise.

  Another battalion showed up some time later. They showed a degree of discipline. They weren’t as good as the first company or even the first battalion, but they weren’t nearly as bad as the second battalion. Two more battalions showed up around the same time. One of them showed the same moderate discipline and control as the previous battalion. The sixth and last battalion to show up caught Bergmann’s eye, though. Their uniforms weren’t very crisp, and they seemed to blow off the drill movements. They went through them a few times just to have them fresh in everyone’s mind, but they didn’t seem overly interested. But Bergmann could see that these soldiers seemed to be much more comfortable with their weapons. Unlike the men in the other battalions, these men carried their swords on their hips, offset to the front or back slightly, where the weapons were more easily drawn. Bergmann knew that these were the men with experience. These men had used those weapons in fear and anger. They weren’t just for show.

  Bergmann had what he needed. He watched as all of the battalions, six in total, formed up. In front of each battalion stood its commander. The battalions were split into two regiments, with three battalions per regiment. Each of the two regiments had a regiment commander, who stood a dozen paces in front of the line of battalion commanders. Standing two dozen paces further out from them, and centered between them, was the brigade commander.

  Bergmann made his way out onto the parade field. When the brigade commander saw him coming, he called attention. The two regiment commanders turned around and called attention. The six battalion commanders then turned around and, from left to right, they each called their battalions to attention. Bergmann walked straight to the brigade commander. When he got close he realized it was Commander Boris.

  Commander Boris brought his fist to his chest in a salute. “King Bergmann, the army is assembled and ready for the demonstration. The only units that are not here are the city guards. They are not part of the main army, sir.”

  “I don’t want to see your demonstration, Commander. I have been watching your army for hours. I have seen everything I need to see. Come with me. There are some things that need to be settled,” Bergmann said, turning toward the army and walking toward the left regiment.

  Boris and Rupert followed behind him. Bergmann walked past the regiment commander, waving for him to follow. Bergmann walked straight up to the commander of the battalion on the right.

  “What is your name, Commander?” Bergmann demanded.

  “I am Captain Merwein, sir,” the man said, with an air of superiority.

  “Take out your sword, Captain,” Bergmann said.

  The man gave him a confused look, but he pulled out his sabre.

  “You are relieved,” Bergmann said. “Your battalion is lazy and undisciplined. Leave your sword and go.”

  “You can’t fire me. I am the king’s cousin.”

  “I don’t care. You’re relieved. Go talk to your cousin. I am sure he can find you somewhere else in the city where you can be worthless, but you are not going to lead in my army.”

  The man’s face turned red, and he raised his sword. Bergman stepped forward and kicked the inside of one of the man’s feet, then punched the man in the chest as his feet went out wide. The man fell flat on his back. He was already trying to get up, but Bergmann kicked him back down to the ground, then stepped on his sword arm. The king’s cousin tried to pull his arm free, but Bergmann was lifting his axe off his back now. He usually fought with it two-handed, but it was light enough that he could wield it with one. He turned the axe blade-up and set the spike, which protruded wickedly from the opposite side of the weapon’s head, on the man's forehead. The man stopped fighting to get up.

  “You have two choices, king’s cousin. You can let go of that sword and go run to your king, or you can keep that sword in your hand and I will put this spike in your skull,” Bergmann told the man, staring down into his eyes. The man’s hand opened and the sword rolled off his fingers onto the ground. Bergmann lifted his axe and took his foot off the man’s arm. The king’s cousin got to his feet, glaring at the other commanders, and then ran off toward the palace.

  Bergmann looked at the regiment commander. “Get me the commander of the company on the end.”

  The regiment commander went down to the end and returned with the company commander. “This is the commander of that company, sir.”

  “What is your name?” Bergmann asked the commander of the first company he had seen come out.

  “I am Lieutenant Walsh, sir.”

  “You are Captain Walsh now. I have been watching this brigade all day. You were the first one out here today, and you have the only company that has any discipline in this battalion. By tomorrow you will have assigned new company commanders to all five of your companies,” Bergmann told the man.

  “Yes, sir,” the man answered, bringing his fist to his chest.

  Bergmann turned to Commander Boris. “Commander, get every commander—down to the company level—over here now. We have some things to discuss.”

  Boris nodded to the regiment commander next to him, who nodded and headed off toward his other battalion commanders. Captain Walsh went to get his current company commanders without being told. Commander Boris ran toward his other regiment commander to relay the order.

  A few minutes later, thirty company commanders, six battalion commanders, and two regiment commanders stood in a circle around Bergmann with Commander Boris next to him and Rupert behind him. He took a step forward.


  “Commanders, I am Bergmann, king of the dwarves of Tiefes Loch, and soon I will be king over all the dwarves. The other kingdoms have grown weak, and I intend to return my race to its old greatness. To accomplish that, I have allied with your king. Understand this: I have complete control of this army. If you do not lead your men well, I will replace you. Now, I plan to march in one week. Supplies are already being gathered. I have brought with me weapons and armor to equip your men. The next week will be spent training from sunup to sundown. Your men have some experience, but they do not know how to fight dwarves. Who here thinks he knows how to fight against a dwarf?”

  One of the commanders from the company who had spent all that time marching and making sure they had drilled properly stepped forward. “I believe I could hold my own, sir.”

  Bergmann saw the men from the companies he recognized as the more experienced shaking their heads. Bergmann stepped forward.

  “Let’s see what you got,” he said, sliding his axe off his back and putting his helm on. This man was huge. He was at least six and a half feet tall and he had arms as big around as Bergmann’s. Bergmann walked forward as the man drew his own sword. The man waited hesitantly with his sword ready, held out in front of him. Bergmann charged him. The man slashed at him with his sword. Bergmann turned to the side, letting the blade bounce harmlessly of his breastplate. The man tried a quick backslash that Bergmann easily blocked with his axe before slamming his helmed head into the man’s stomach. The man stepped back with the wind knocked out of him. Bergmann smacked the man in the shin with the flat of his axe, knocking him to the ground. He rested his axe blade on the man’s neck.

  He looked over to the men he believed to have experience fighting. He pointed at one. “What is your name?”