The Butcher of Gadobhra

With a small flash of light, several people appeared on the teleporter at Rowan Keep. They paused momentarily, looking around at the new construction and half-built walls. Four of the men were bodyguards. The other three were imperial bureaucrats. As they stepped aside, three scribes, one groom, and the first of ten horses appeared. The bureaucrats could be easily recognized by their more expensive clothing, shoes not made for walking outdoors, and perpetual scowls. They seemed to have the same look regardless of who they worked for. Falcar wondered if it was some uniform.

One turned and looked at the teleporter. "This is certainly insufficient for a fortress of the proposed size."

Captain Falcar was standing to the side of the teleportation stone. "Greetings, travelers. I am Captain Falcar of the Emperor's Legion. May I be of assistance? This is a larger stone than the average for a rural Legion Keep. Normal stones are 10' to a side and hold 10,000 mana. We are blessed with a 15' stone that can hold 100,000 mana, and we keep it fully charged to provide quick travel to and from Rowan Keep."

The man who had spoken snorted slightly and walked to the smiling captain. "Thank you for telling me things I am an expert in, Captain. I am Theordis Thancton, accountant for the Office of Accounting of the Emperor's Legion. I and my associates are making a surprise inspection to observe of the ongoing construction. I am amazed you can accomplish so much with such a small teleporter. Are you sourcing some of your materials locally?"

Falcar made a small eye movement that told a lurking soldier to report to the centurion before smiling again at the Imperial bean counter. "Baron William is paying for all of the materials and the improvements' cost. He has chosen to source the materials locally since he owns all of the local materials."

Theordis snorted. He had friends and family in the construction business. He hated local sources of materials. If he had his way, the Legion would never use them. "We will need to replace this teleporter with at least a twenty-foot stone, if not twenty-five. With less, a garrison big enough to fill this can't be shifted as needed."

Falcar's bland smile became a thin line. Every person in the bureaucracy felt they were an expert on how the Legion should be run. He was happy to see his Centurion arrive.

"Luckily, travel has been very minimal lately. And our supply of mana is very good. We can shift men and horses as fast as every ten seconds if the stone on the other end can keep up. Good to meet you; I am Marcus, the commanding Centurion of Rowan Keep. I am also surprised to see you. Shouldn't a notice have been sent so I could provide you with proper lodging and transportation and prepare the documents you needed to see?"

Theordis brushed a bit of dust from the shoulder of his black velvet jacket. "The dust here must be just terrible. No need for documents today. I am here to find the flaws in construction that invariably appear as local contractors try to skimp on supplying the Legion with their best services. My colleagues are here to talk to the Baron about his taxes and his requirements for imperial storehouses. Just ignore us, and we'll all get along fine. I'm sure you understand."

Marcus bowed. "As you wish." He turned and walked back the way he had come. "Captain? Please instruct the men to ignore these people and let them go about poking into things."

The functionaries moved about the Keep, followed by scribes, bodyguards, and horses. A man holding a pallet of building stone was blocked by their path. Startled, Theordis stared at the man waiting patiently for them to move by. His mind did the calculation as his eyes kept staring. That was at least a cubic yard of stone bricks. At 150 pounds per cubic foot, the man was lifting two tons. "Dear heavens. How are you lifting that heavy load." There was scattered laughter from nearby. Theordis was wracking his brain to puzzle out the man's class. He must have at least a STR of 20, several levels of Haul, and be under the effects of a potion. Or possibly an Earth Mage with a spell to move rock?

The man sighed slightly. "You pick it up in one place and put it down in another. Although, I think it gets harder to do the longer you have to sit and talk with someone about how to move rocks. Maybe you and the circus to move past so I can deliver this load?"

Theordis was taken aback at being talked to in such a tone of voice by a common laborer and was about to say something when Manfred and Geoffrey took him by the arms and started walking again. "Best to move out of the man's way lest he drops it on you." The worker nodded his thanks to them, waited for the last horse to get out of his way, and resumed his journey to deliver the load of bricks. Manfred, the most practical of the three, had come from humble beginnings than Theordis and had more respect for artisans at work. And he was seeing a lot of them today, many lifting heavy loads of materials. He moved their entourage out of one of the gates and to a grassy area outside to where a line of merchant tents was set up. "Here, this is much nicer. Near some food and away from the dust. The horses can graze on the grass, and we can look around before heading to see the Baron".

Down the hill, perhaps ten miles away, was a little village that, according to the Imperial Census, was little more than a few houses and half a dozen merchants. It barely counted as a hamlet. Beyond it, they saw the imposing bulk of the City of Gadobhra, broken towers sticking up like the teeth of some horrid creature. Theordis was still upset at being spoken to that way but took a deep breath and continued his work. "I need to see how much they have skimped on the depth of foundations and the thickness of the walls and how cheap the stone is. That will do for today, and then we can go have words with the local Baron." From the cross-section that Manfred could see, the walls looked quite thick. But he was a taxman, not a construction accountant. Each had their specialties for pulling money out of the local nobility.

Theordis took one bodyguard and one scribe with a measuring tape. They wandered the length of the wall until they found a ramp down. He talked as he went, and the scribe nodded in time to his words. "It's always the parts you can't see that they skimp on. Walls this big should have a depth of at least fourteen feet. I doubt that these have even twelve!" Measuring showed that from the edge of the surface to the hard-packed gravel was exactly twelve feet. "Ha, just as I expected. They'll have to dig this up and extend it down two more feet, plus another two feet for good measure!"

"By 'they,' I'm assuming you mean me." Theordis turned to where a large muscled man was standing nearby. He had close-cropped hair and was clean-shaven in the style of the legion. He wore sturdy boots, leather pants, a carpenter's apron, and a bright red shirt. Goggles of some type were pushed up on his forehead. A bevy of carpenters squares, plumb bobs, and other surveying tools hung from his belt and apron. He extended a gloved hand. "Georges. I'm in charge of this project. What the hell are you talking about? We aren't digging up anything."

Theordis ignored the hand and struggled to stand as tall as he could, but the man addressing him was at least half a foot past six feet. "You will extend the foundations of these walls down to sixteen feet, or they will not be approved, which will play badly with your Baron. And don't play ignorant of Imperial Building codes."

Georges smiled. "Never. Not by an inch. Follow me, and You may need a longer tape measure." They followed him along the level ground of the foundation and came to a wooden ramp going down. "We go down a lot further than sixteen feet. That's crap for walls this big. You need to be on bedrock and packed stone. We dug to the hard stone and either cut down to where we needed to be or dug out the dirt and filled it with hard-packed gravel. A fortress stands or falls on its foundations, and none of mine are going to fall over."

The scribe looked at his tape measure and the walls. "Sir, to what depth is the lowest part?" Georges showed him how to read the markings on the walls. "We started with a perfectly level base and a depth of thirty feet. Stone base, then a ten-foot high wall section, filled with large stones weighing a ton or two with gravel in the crevices. Then cap it with a two-foot thick layer of stone and start the next ten feet of wall. It's all interlocking pieces that aren't moving, and I pity the person that tries to dig through or under. Once we have the foundations perfect, the aboveground walls go up and won't move for a thousand years."

Theordis was trying not to be impressed by the construction but couldn't resist saying. "Unless the enemy has a capable Earth Mage who is better than what you have in the fortress to stop him. Any fortress can be destroyed by magic. That's why you need a good contingent of the Legion, competent mages, and a large enough teleport stone to handle the job."

Georges said nothing but beckoned the three to follow him. They went down to the thirty-foot level and along to a section of stone just being laid. Two people were concentrating on their work, carving runes into the stone. Nearby was an alchemist tending a vat of molten silver, and an artist sketched runes in colored pencil ahead of the two rune carvers. The stone they were working on was perfectly white marble. The stone of the walls at this level was a dark grey with small silver flecks. The scribe made a note of the tier 2 materials and pointed them out to his superior. Theordis needed to know where they were getting this stone. Tier 2 materials were generally only mined from a hundred or more feet into the earth.

Georges pointed to the runes. "If someone brings an Earth Mage to tear down my walls, they better be tough enough to handle a God."

"An invocation? Are you putting an invocation on the entire fortress walls? That's madness. Make an altar to Mars and give him a dozen bullocks in sacrifice each month! "

A smile appeared on Georges's face, showing his amusement. "Mars has his good points, but I want protection for my walls. Nothing is better than Hermes for that."

Theordis rolled his eyes. "Madness and a waste of time, and it makes a mockery of Mars. All Legion fortresses are dedicated to the God of War. No, this won't do. You can't waste all this time and money venerating some lesser god of shopkeepers and flower delivery." Around him, all sound died down. The two rune crafters stood up.

The first dusted off his once-white uniform and settled a fancy hat on his head. His uniform looked remarkably like that of an Imperial Courier. "Now, now. No need to be so ignorant about things. I'm sure it's just poor upbringing that prevents you from seeing just how cool Hermes is. He gets a lot of respect around here. He's a god who listens to shepherds, shopkeepers, and cunning pranksters. Also, messengers, which I'm sure includes the Emperor's Couriers, of which I happen to be one. When you consider that commerce and money keep the empire moving, you might re-think the importance of a God of Shopkeepers."

The other person stood, a young woman with striking good looks and flashing eyes. She glared at the intruders angrily. No dust or dirt clung to the long white gown she wore. On her neck, she wore a symbol of Hermes. "And I'll be happy to help with your re-education if I ever have the opportunity. Your words are rude and will be remembered." She gave them a look that sent a shiver down the imperial functionaries' spines. They turned and left hurriedly.

Later that day, one of the Legionnaires came down to pass a small bag with two silver pieces in it to Suzette. "Sorry to bother you, ma'am, but a very worried scribe and soldier asked me to give this to you in the hopes that you'd make an offering from them to Lord Hermes. They don't want you to have a bad impression of them, despite who they work for."

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