2,432 words
The Mayoral Estate of Alfida
Nested atop a series of five highly defensible hills a few miles downriver of where the Targo flows into the mighty Estrella, Alfida marked the northernmost point of administrative power. It is a city of the borderlands, forged in war and enriched by the flow of silver ore, timber, and wool from the mountains. It is the seat of power of Alfida... and yet you do not exercise sole political control over it.
Managing the minutiae of a city was not something that interested your father. After capturing the city and expelling the elfbloods, he was happy to let the old republican administration of the city remain so long as it was staffed by humans and answered to him. In the end, he only got half of his wish.
Bernardo has been the mayor of the city for a decade now having won his re-election bid after serving his first six year term. He enjoys the support of the major guilds of the city— the silversmiths, the stonemasons, the millers, the weavers, tailors, hell even the cordwainers and they don't like anyone. With their support, he has managed to hold his own against the king's increasingly oppressive demands and keep his city's economy prospering.
Of course, his power pales in comparison to your own. You could mobilize the troops, besiege the city, and throw out the civilian administration in a season or two. However, tales warning against killing the golden goose exist for a reason.
So you must suck it up for the good of the realm and meet Bernardo in his own house. The indignity is not lost on you. The king does not leave his palace to meet with his subjects on their terms. They come to him.
And yet... this is not the case. So, here you are, sitting atop a horse dressed in the finest garb a master tailor could conjure up within two days. It's not as regal or ostentatious as a full set of ceremonial armor and fur cloak would have been, but you were never one for outrageous displays of wealth anyway. Unless that wealth is magical.
A pair of heralds march in front of you and behind you a column of twenty guardsmen. Not as much as your father would have taken, but then again, you don't need as much. If you are beset by attackers, you can simply teleport home and then reap bloody revenge later. Or you can conjure a cloud of poison gas and watch them die clutching at their necks and bleeding from their eyes and mouths.
A number of people watch the procession from the streets, whispering and pointing at you, their eyes wide and full of wonder. You have been away for many years and your time at the Grand University of the Free and Sovereign City was far removed from the concerns of the common man. Most of these peasants and artisans have never seen since you were a child if at all. You are a stranger to them.
A stranger and their new king.
Hm, what do peasants like? Magic? Everyone likes magic. You pull on your mana, shaping the raw essence to bend and twist the light around you, forming an illusory translucent banner of your coat of arms on all sides.
Your procession marches under the luminary banner while you make an effort to smile and wave at the crowds. Their reactions are mixed. Some look in awe. Some seem afraid. And others are simply confused.
But you keep smiling and waving. The more you play the part, the more the people will buy into it, right?
It doesn't take long to reach the mayor's estate on the hill. The gates swing open to allow your party entry and you find yourself at the front of an impressive six room mansion. Your heralds loudly announce your presence as the servants of the household come out to greet you and take your horse.
The head of the household, a gaunt, red-faced, balding man steps out of the house dressed in richly dyed dark blue cotton fabric woven with dark black thread in an intricate pattern. The sleeves are rolled up to his elbows and his feet are clad in fine leather sandals. If not for the well-to-do nature of his outfit, you would think the man a beggar. His eyes are sunken and his skin sticks to his bones like rubbery sap. His mouth opens and a fetid stench mixed with a powerful mint overcoating billows forth from his lips and you resist the urge to crinkle your nose in disgust.
"Welcome, your majesty," the man greets in a hoarse, croaking voice.
"Are you the Mayor?" you ask in a clipped tone while pretending to wipe your brow with a handkerchief. You rubbed the thing with roses before coming here to both to guard your nose and just in case you needed rose oil for a cleansing air spell. One never knows when they'll be assaulted with poison gas. In any event, the handkerchief smells nice which is more than can be said about the man before you.
"I am. Mayor Bernardo at your service. My home is your home," the man states, "Please, refresh yourselves, and let us begin our discussions. I've prepared a lunch for you, my liege. If I may show you inside?"
"That would be lovely, thank you," you reply, "I've had a most trying day, Mayor."
"Indeed, I lost mine own father a decade ago. It is a wound that is slow to heal, I'm afraid."
"Huh?" you blurt out dumbly. That happened two days ago. You didn't even mourn the man for a second let alone days. "Oh, no. It's— well, I won't bore you with the details. But a rather low hanging cloud almost ended my life during my morning fly over the kingdom," you explain.
Mayor Bernardo's eyes widen and his mouth drops open in horror. It would be funny if the man didn't smell so foul.
"Gods, your majesty! What happened?" he asks, his voice cracking as his eyes dart between you and the sky.
"It was nothing. I had to beat the ice off my cloak and managed to right myself," you shrug.
"Gods bless you, your majesty. That is the second most frightening thing I've heard this week," the mayor states.
"What's the first?"
"A rumor that war may soon break out between Al Mariyya and Wadi al-Ruh once more. Last time the great city of Almedina was besieged, we lost thousands in seized shipments and delayed orders."
"And where did you hear this rumor?"
Mayor Bernardo rubs his hands together, his skeletal fingers creaking with each movement, "Merchants must know these things."
Hm, well it isn't as if it is a great secret. You remember the first war well. It was waged while you were attending the Grand University. Balansiya allied with Wadi al-Ruh to split Al Mariyya in two between them. Only a timely plea to the Marquis of Armagvois saved them from being overwhelmed, turning a sure loss into a bitter stalemate. The Free and Sovereign City is actually located on the coast of Balansiya so you got to watch the Armagvois campaign happen in the grand scrying theater. It was quite the bloodbath.
A status quo ante bellum signed ten years ago satisfied precisely zero of the belligerent parties so it's only been a matter of time until hostilities resume.
Mayor Bernardo brings you inside to his dining room. A spread of bread, fruits, cheeses, and vegetables is already laid out for the guests and a handful of servants in bleached white tunics stand ready to pour wine into pure silver goblets.
"Please, your majesty, sit," Mayor Bernardo gestures to a finely crafted chair of dark walnut wood at the head of the table. It has a high, arched back with a cushion of the same blue and black pattern as the rest of the mayor's outfit.
"Thank you," you state, taking your seat. Mayor Bernardo seats himself at the opposite end. His wife and children join you a moment later, each greeting you with a bow and curtsey. The children are both girls, one in her late teens, the other younger. They are dressed in matching blue and white outfits with yellow and pink trim and silver jewelry.
"Your majesty, allow me to introduce my family..."
You smile and nod and perform all the pleasantries expected of you. He introduces his daughters, neither of which particularly interest you. He introduces his wife who interests you even less. Then you share a meal filled with pointless small talk. It's all part of the dance of diplomacy.
After a bit of food and wine, the meal concludes and the mayor leads you into a different room for your actual discussion. The girls go off to their bedrooms and the wife goes... somewhere else.
It doesn't really matter to you.
Mayor Bernardo's study is a modest one. His desk is made from a reddish oak. There are a few bookcases containing ledgers and account books, and a large map of Tartessia dominates the room, showing the borders between the kingdoms of the peninsula, the taifa queendoms, the Free and Sovereign City, and the mountain realms to the north.
The mayor takes a seat behind his desk, offering you the plush cushioned chair before it.
"I trust the meal was to your satisfaction, your majesty?" Mayor Bernardo inquires.
"It was delicious," you nod.
"Good, good. Now then, your majesty, what shall we discuss first?"
"The most pressing matter. You are the mayor of Alfida, the lynchpin of my realm. You belong on my council," you state plainly.
Mayor Bernardo hooks his skeletal fingers together and leans forward over his oaken desk. He is a clever man, if nothing else. You can tell he doesn't miss a word and will not give an inch if he can help it. "Your father didn't seem to think so."
"He's dead. I'm king now," you point out, "And I have my own ideas on how to move the kingdom forward. I'll be frank, Mayor. The city and the kingdom have suffered under my father's rule. It is not something I intend to repeat."
"A frank admission, indeed," Mayor Bernardo nods, "Your father was a brilliant military mind, but his command over economic matters was... limited. For years our taxes have filled the royal coffers and we see nothing for it."
"This is changing. Already, I have my uncle set to work repairing roads, bridges, and dredging the Estrella," you state.
"That is a start. What about the Eluctable? My merchants still can't conduct business without fearing for their lives."
"My sister is handling it. I have given her a thousand silver from the treasury to untangle his web. The days of copper pinching are over, Mayor Bernardo."
He nods, "That is a relief to hear, your majesty. I have one more thing."
"Please, Mayor, ask."
"Your plans sound ambitious. Certain... liberties might be taken with the money supply with such a rapid expansion. This cannot happen."
"Are you implying I would issue fraudulent coinage?"
"I am implying no man is above temptation forever except the Son himself. The old king built his reputation on decades of honesty. You, however, are a new and unknown king. Our trade relies on the guarantee of our silver coins' worth. If there were certain oversight measures at the mint, I am sure it would calm the nerves of our trade partners."
"No," you issue your denial clearly and concisely, "The power of the crown is predicated on the mint of Alfida. In the coming months, each one of those coins with be stamped with my likeness and be issued in my name. They will come with a guarantee from me, King Alonso de Alfida. No one else."
On the face of it, it seems like a reasonable demand. After all, the burghers depend the most of a stable money supply. But this would be a display of weakness in a time you can ill afford it. It says to the realm 'the new king is so desperate, he has no choice but to bend to the whims of his subjects.' A king must project strength. Always. The old man was a wicked bastard, but he was right about that much.
Mayor Bernardo sags in disappointment. Clearly he was expecting an easy concession, but his defeat is written plain on his face. "Then I am afraid I would have little to offer to your council if my advice is so easily ignored..."
"I disagree. Although I suppose if the families of Alfida feel I don't need their voice on my council, then I suppose, well, I have been looking into sights for a new royal palace," you point out, gesturing toward the map.
Bernardo's eyes widen, "You cannot be serious!"
"Deadly serious, I'm afraid. We have many choices," you lie. Where the hell would you move your royal keep? The middle of nowhere? That'd be a headache... for now. "I could use one more befitting a Mage King," you idly muse.
"Mage king, is it?" Bernardo mutters, his lips moving silently as he thinks to himself, "I would council you against such an unwise move, your majesty."
"Then you should do so within my council," you reply.
Bernardo looks around the room, his eyes settling on the map once more, and the red marks showing the extent of Alfida's influence in Tartessia. He's a man in his fifties with only a handful of years left in his life if you had to guess given his poor health. Time enough, perhaps, left to make a legacy. If he could serve on your council and set the agenda for your realm's economic development, he could leave a legacy far greater than he ever could as a mere mayor.
"I will serve."
"Good. If that is all, I will be returning home. Do inform my entourage that I've teleported home," you blink away in a flash before the man can get a word in edge-wise.
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Resolved "Resigned in Disgust". +10 Burgher Loyalty.
Gained Councilor Bernardo Veja.
Personality: Diligent, Stubborn, Just
Education: Stewardship
Misc. Traits: Inappetitic, Frail, Administrator
Stats: 12 DIP, 4 MAR, 22 STE, 7 INTR, 10 LEA
53 years old. Mayor of Alfida. He was master silversmith for many years before rising up the ranks of the silversmith guild and then moving on to selling his and the guild's product in Almedina and building merchant connections there.
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