Unaware of this, Serosh was walking away with a spring in his step, leaving behind the pile of documents that made his head spin, his little schemes clicking away in his mind:
Brilliant! All according to plan!
When he had sent a messenger back to Leyndell for reinforcements, his intention had been to "trick" that lad Horace into coming.
As long as Horace successfully completed the "technical task" of winning over the Trolls, that achievement, coupled with his status as an Empyrean and his ties to the royal family by marriage, would make securing him a noble title with real authority perfectly reasonable.
Once he had a title and a corresponding fief, would it not be easy to push him into the position of Chancellor of Leyndell, citing reasons such as "the front urgently needs someone to coordinate affairs" and "the vacant chancellorship in Leyndell is affecting expedition logistics"?
Then he, Serosh, could "retire" with honors, shrug off the burden he had carried for who knew how many years, and roam free beneath the open sky, sleeping as long as he pleased, never again having to stare blankly at endless reports and lists until his mane fell out!
(Note: lions are the only sexually dimorphic cats. In the eyes of a pride, a male lion without a mane is a lioness. Thus, Serosh losing his entire mane would roughly amount to changing sex.)
But lions proposed, and heaven disposed.
He had never imagined that the Trolls, long oppressed by the giants, would be so "cooperative" that they would surrender before the actual representative from Caria even arrived!
This directly disrupted Serosh's carefully devised plan to "lay the groundwork with achievements."
But no matter. A lion was a lion, after all, with first-rate adaptability.
Not enough achievements? Then create some!
The