I, Strahd: The War Against Azalin
Chapter Twelve

579 Barovian Calendar, Darkon
Excerpt from Lord Azalin's private journal, stolen at great risk by Lord Strand's secret envoy, Dioti the Sly.
I confess that I'm still disturbed by my lapse of memory over the time I spent in Mordent. Had Von Zarovich not also been there I would discount the gap as part of the price to pay when experimenting with magic, but his involvement in anything must never be ignored. I have concentrated the full force of my thought upon the problem, yet it refuses to open itself to me. During our conversation.
Von Zarovich implied that he knew more than I did of the incident, but he is an accomplished liar. On the other hand, he has an antic taste for humor and might have been speaking the truth, knowing that I would doubt him. His is the sort of mind that would meet itself in a maze.
That night at the ruined monastery when we argued had proved fateful indeed.
Disconsolate and disgusted with my fate, I had entered the Mists. When I came back to consciousness in one of the inner chambers of what I came to learn was called Castle Avernus, I first thought I had finally escaped Barovia. Events soon proved this assumption correct but revealed I was still locked within the same plane that holds Barovia apart from Oerth. This disappointment was mitigated when I came to understand that this new land, Darkon, was entirely mine.
The castle servants, the population, the whole governmental structure acknowledges me as lord here and behave as though it's always been so. I have swiftly taken advantage of the opportunity and reinforced it to make certain all here are unquestioningly loyal to me. There will be no more betrayals, for I root them out before they have the chance to grow. I have killed without hesitation as a warning to the others. Those who remain I may rely upon to carry out their duties.
Toward that end I have assembled a core of those who will act as extensions of my will. From the ranks of the soldiers, from the halls of the nobility, even from the streets and back alleys of Il Aluk have I drawn them, my inner core of servants that I have named the Kargat. They are my eyes and ears in Darkon and considerably more efficient than Von Zarovich's unpredictable Vistani.
The Kargat have proved themselves again and again as they move, secretly and silently, within the noble houses here seeking out disloyalty and paying betrayal with death. I have rewarded them well and made them the commanders of the army that will soon take Barovia.
At their head is General Vychen. His goals are very like my own, but he prefers to remain within his own sphere of power and has no ambitions for my throne.
Even when I arranged to make the change in him so that he would become a creature like Von Zarovich, his loyalty to me stayed constant. This has not always been the case for others who have been likewise converted, but they have been dealt with and are no longer a threat.
Vychen will be my best weapon against Von Zarovich. He has military experience and is quite ruthless. He's gathered together an excellent staff of officers, yet wisely makes certain they are oath-bound to me, not himself.
My army grows, but slowly, for there are many unwilling to serve who must be made examples to the rest. I could take Barovia now, but I will leave nothing to chance. First I will assemble an overwhelming force, then will they march into that detestable plot of mud and rock and destroy it and its lord.
***
579 Barovian Calendar, Barovia I finished my translation of the page and looked up at the pleased face of Dioti, who liked to think of himself as my best Vistani spy.
"It is excellent, is it not. Lord Strahd?" he asked. "I endured many dangers to bring it to you, so it is most excellent, indeed."
"That you got in and out of Avernus without being killed or worse is noteworthy, but - " I held up the papers torn from Azalin's private journal, "this tells me nothing I did not already know, which means that you were meant to steal it and get away."
His face fell. "Then the Lord Strahd is not happy?"
I was as far from that state as could be imagined but kept my expression neutral. "My one kernel of hope is that Azalin's agents are as efficient as you are."
Dioti took that as a compliment, grinned, and bowed low. Aldrick Wachter, an annoyed look on his own features, stepped forward and jerked his head toward the study door, indicating to Dioti that his time had come to leave. He did so with many more bows than was absolutely necessary.
Aldrick turned to me. "You should have him executed, my lord, he's a fool."
"Azalin may do that for us soon enough. In this fight I cannot afford to waste even the fools."
"He'll betray you, perhaps not purposely, but by mischance."
"He knows nothing of importance, and serves as a distraction to the enemy. If Azalin thinks Dioti is the measure of the people I have been sending in against him then so much the better for us. Now, forget him and attend to this new map."
I spread the parchment over the broad table.
"This river's moved," he said pointing to one of the winding lines I had reproduced from my long hours hunched over the crystal scouting and mapping every square mile of Darkon. "And what's this lake doing in the middle of a desert area?"
"It's likely not there at all. Azalin is casting illusions everywhere to mislead, though there is the possibility that he's able to change the very features of the land itself." I could not discount such a possibility, that Darkon altered to reflect the moods of its lord as Barovia's weather often matched my own.
"How can we march under such conditions?" He was not despairing, but honestly curious, as if my pitifully small army had a chance of actually invading Darkon.
Since the day of that first skirmish with Azalin's zombies every farmer and shepherd not actually engaged in food production was pressed into military service. The same went for the nobility as I found ways to keep their younger sons and daughters busy. Many of my commanders were like Aldrick, drawn from the families of the boyars, groomed from birth to give and take orders as befitted their stations of responsibility, but there were not enough of them. Even with my dead servitors to bolster the ranks, I didn't have a tenth of the force that Azalin would be able to raise.
If I could trust the scraps of information Dioti brought (which I constantly confirmed by my other spies) and if what I saw in my crystal was not an illusion, Azalin was taking his time in preparation, apparently wanting to make a thorough job of it. Despite the fact that his influence with them ended at the border whenever I was present to fight them, he could have probably summoned enough of his dead to carry out an invasion but held back from that action.
Instead he kept them close to the frontier; as far as I could determine they were there to defend his side should I think to send anyone across.
Elsewhere in Darkon I saw troops being gathered up and trained, noted the location of the camps and how many lived there, wrote down the names of all his chief commanders. He had some two dozen people of high rank whom he tested again and again for their unconditional loyalty, then put them in charge of other loyal officers. This was his Kargat, and they were absolute dictators within their given domain, answerable to none but themselves, their immediate leaders, and Azalin.
Azalin picked only the best fighters for the Kargat, then saw to it that they were initiated into the dark life of the undead, making them highly effective and dangerous agents. Occasionally he "gifted" a select few with lycanthropy should their own nature dictate it as more suitable. Though infants compared to me, they were like minor gods - or devils - to the frail mortals about them. I could surmise that they would ultimately be leading the invasion force by their frequent attendance at staff and strategy meetings with General Vychen. I eavesdropped as best I could on these, though if I lingered too long or too close my presence was noticed. Still, I managed to gain much useful information on their movements, personal habits, and weaknesses over the long course of my observations from afar.
Though Azalin took his time assembling his army, there was no shortage of small skirmishes along our border, usually involving a few zombies sent in to harass the common folk there. Because of their limits the creatures were no real threat to anyone who knew how to fight them, but this still caused a general migration of refugees out of 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 numbers in the ranks, though his army, including the living, dead, and undead, was easily three times the size of mine. He seemed less interested in victory than annihilation.
When one is outnumbered, then one must become inventive, so I put the time he gave me to good use.