the area, mostly terrified farmers and herders. As for the zombies, they could cross in at any given time, creating havoc for their master. Since he usually sent them across during the day, I was sure their chief purpose was to keep my people dispirited, distracted, and on edge.
I instructed my border guardians on how to best deal with the things themselves and got on with other work. Instead of wasting precious time fighting mere pawns, I kept busy producing magical items to aid my own top people, but the process was exhausting, so not many had such treasures. It was better that they rely on their own resources and training, anyway. Azalin was ironically helping to season my soldiers into true fighters, for each time they drove back or destroyed one of his assaults, it was a great boost to their confidence.
Insofar as magical preparation was concerned, my chief priority was to forestall Azalin from observing anything of importance. To this end all my top people were given protective neck chains to be worn constantly. The links were imbued with a casting that prevented Azalin from spying on their wearers-Azalin, not myself, which I carefully built that into the spell. Thus were they able to come and go and speak freely without fear of being seen or overheard by anyone but me, and of course, I took care not to inform them about the latter detail. It was how I made sure my own people were loyal, an impressive accomplishment of work for me but not nearly sufficient to the need.
As indicated by the Tarokka cards all those years ago I had to seek help from outside. Thus did I send Yersinia Wachter, under close and well armed escort, into Mordent and Lamordia as my first ambassador to the lands beyond Barovia. Her overt mission was to establish formal trade agreements with them and arrange for a mutual defense policy. Unhappily Azalin had already achieved a non-aggression treaty with the mayor of Mordentshire, whose near-insignificant office was the closest thing the whole country had for government. He'd had less luck in Lamordia, which didn't even have that much government.
Yersinia had better luck cultivating friends within Mordent's Weathermay clan, one of the town's most prominent families. She was perfectly suited on a social level to deal with anything involving the upper classes, which was why I'd chosen her for the task. Though she lacked experience in soldiering, she was an expert at reading people and getting them to talk. By this means she was able to make the right contacts to achieve her covert mission: the hiring of mercenaries.
Leaving her son to scrutinize the new maps, I quit the study for a smaller room nearby that I had prepared with absolute privacy in mind, bolstering this objective with heavy protection spells. Its original opening on a minor corridor was bricked up, and now the chief entry was a window too narrow for anything but a bat to squeeze past. For emergencies I had a second opening in a cracked bit of flooring no larger than my thumb, but adequate for me to flow through as mist.
Within, all was draped in black velvet, walls, floor, ceiling, including the single chair that made up the furnishings. Here would I sit, the crystal ball before me in my hands, able to concentrate fully on its images, free of all diversions as I seemed to float in featureless darkness. The only light came from within the crystal.
It was time to obtain Yersinia's report for the day. I composed myself in the chair, focused my attention in the crystal, and shut my eyes the better to visualize her face and form. After a few moments it seemed she stood before me, a startled look upon her features as far away in Mordent she became aware of my presence.
'Lord Strahd?' she asked looking about her with a hint of uncertainty, though I had contacted her this way many times before. By speaking my name I knew that she was alone.
'What progress have you made?' I snapped.
She knew we did not have much time. This sort of communication was exhausting for me, and I was wary of Azalin eavesdropping should he find a way around my obscuring spells.
'I've spoken at length with Voan Darl. He's interested, especially after hearing what you are willing to pay.'
'Azalin can pay him more.'
'Yes, but Azalin also ordered the execution of some woman Darl was close to; he bears no love toward Darkon's ruler.'
Within days of Yersinia's arrival she had met and talked with a fellow calling himself Voan Darl. He had the silken manners of an in-bred noble, combined with the skills of a professional assassin, and was very much for hire. He had been a guest of the Weathermays until a disagreement with another guest from Darkon ended in a duel of honor, resulting in one less place setting for the evening meal. Aware of his hosts' acute embarrassment, Darl departed their house, taking rooms at a small Mordentshire inn. His present source of income was gambling at cards with the locals at a public house. His earnings, due to the modest means of his fellow players, were marginal at best. This made him very ambitious to better himself.
'Can he bring others like him into Barovia?' I asked.
'Yes, providing the pay is the same. I've spoken to them. They're hard people, but capable, I trust them.'
'Trust is an illusion.'
'Indeed, my lord, especially in war, but I think you may rely upon them, particularly after you've seen them yourself.'
That was quite true-once my hypnotic influence was upon them. 'What else have you to report?'
'The Weathermays are interested in the trade agreement for their own holdings, but they can't speak for the rest of the land. Barovia may have to make such pacts on an individual basis rather than as a whole, the same as I established in Lamordia. They're a powerful family, though. Others will likely follow their lead.'
'See to it. We need the supplies. Hire Darl and his people and send them in right away. Make sure to issue them neck chains. I don't want them ambushed by Dark-on agents on the road.'
'Yes, my lord.'
Yersinia understood the magical protection of the chains, always wearing one herself. It also possessed a small but important refining spell that allowed me to speak with her through the crystal with much less effort than would otherwise be required on my part. Few others I had made possessed that quality since it was an extremely difficult casting to achieve.
'I shall contact you at the same time tomorrow,' I said, breaking off before she could reply, for my head was beginning to buzz at the effort of seeing, hearing, and speaking from afar. The magical drain on me was enormous at such distance even with the added help of the amulet, but I endured it. Not to do so was to surrender to Azalin.
And so it went, as I prepared for a war I was certain that I could not win.
580 Barovian Calendar, Barovia
As the months passed, my troops trained and fought, and I sent other agents out of Barovia to seek help. Most unexpectedly Azalin himself provided valuable assistance to my side by utterly alienating Darkon's Mercenary Guild.
Rather than pay for their professional skills, he conscripted them involuntarily into his army. Theirs was a reputable guild with a long tradition of pride and independence, so this did not sit at all well with them, and a revolt took place within the Il Aluk barracks. The body count was high, and the majority of the dead were not the mercenaries, but Azalin's regulars, including some of his precious Kargat. Those rebels unaccounted for were presumed to have escaped and gone underground. Word was swiftly passed to all branches of the guild in Darkon's other population centers, and the rest of the members followed suit and vanished. Incensed, Azalin set his Kargat to locating and killing those whom he'd decided were traitors.
When this bit of news came to the ears of the Vistani tribes in Darkon, they made it known in certain discreet quarters they could not only help the survivors escape certain death but find work at a fair wage with the enemy of their enemy.
So it was that a large number of expert killers began to steadily stream into Barovia and this time didn't end up in my dungeons.
Azalin had not used the fair weather of the summer to begin his assault, though his army was massed near our border, just out of sight on his side. For over a year he'd held back, much to the chagrin of General Vychen, who was impatient to start. It was the only disagreement I could discern between them, if one could call it that. Vychen was Azalin's willing puppet, but also a military man. When the sky is clean of clouds and the ground firm underfoot, the opportunity for an easy assault should not be wasted, and he wanted to take it. Azalin insisted on more
