Valkyrie's Shadow

Chapter 13

5th Day, Upper Wind Month, 1 CE

“So…how was the service?” Florine asked.

“It was wonderful,” Ludmila smiled. “You did not need to stay at home, you know.”

“What else could we do? Liane groused. “Your whole damn village went to the shrine.”

“It wasn’t everyone,” Ludmila replied. “Themis is holding a service after dinner as well. Those who were working in the morning will come then.”

She said that, but Liane suspected that most of the village had attended. When there was a popular new product, people wanted it as soon as possible. If it was an event or service, people wanted to be there first. It didn’t matter if it was a new tool, dress, food items, performance or prostitute – that was just the way things tended to go.

What Liane was more curious about was the difference in ‘energy’ between her subjects and those under Clara and Ludmila. At first, she thought it was just a ‘Clara’ thing and a combination of factors unique to her situation that created it. Now, however, she saw that Ludmila’s territory – while having its own distinct flavour due to its dramatically different circumstances – had that same energy. This led Liane to believe that their religion was what made the difference.

The Temples of the Four in Liane’s territory had returned to something like their normal routine a few months after the annexation, but they were markedly lacking in the growing fervour of the Temples of the Six. It was understandable enough: the Temples of the Four were now serving in a nation ruled by what was essentially their greatest foe.

Their magic still worked, however, which was Liane’s primary concern. So long as major injuries were addressed and contagion didn’t sweep the land, she didn’t mind supporting the local priesthood. The problem was that the Temples of the Four in the Sorcerous Kingdom were in decline.

This was especially the case in Liane and Florine’s territories, where she and her friend had quickly implemented Undead labour. Clara and Ludmila’s influence played a large part in this, but Liane and Florine’s upbringing as Merchant Nobles also had them immediately recognise and pursue the practical benefits. The Temples did everything short of directly censuring them for betraying their people to the Undead, but the damage had already been done.

Due to the proximity of the Katze Plains, the Faith of the Four in E-Rantel had always focused heavily on its platform as a bastion of good against the evil forces of the Undead. This foundation for building the Temples’ following could be most strongly seen in Liane’s new territories, which bordered the Undead-infested wasteland.

It was a foundation that was rapidly crumbling. Every Undead servitor that stomped by on its patrol or pulled a wagon through the countryside on its way to deliver goods painted the teachings of the Temples as hollow and its Priests as hypocritical. The longer their subjects worked with the Undead, the less they saw them as an existential threat and the more they saw them as a path to prosperity and a better quality of life.

People were fickle creatures: for most, immediate, practical concerns overshadowed past favours and obligations. When it came to faith, they tended to call upon the gods when they needed something. If they were poor, they prayed for fortune. If they were hurt, they cried out for healing. If they wanted children, they prayed for the gods to bless them. If they took risks, they prayed for success. The greater the need, the more shameless one’s ‘faith’ became. When everything was fine and happy, they forgot about the gods and their teachings until they needed something again.

No longer did her subjects pray that a Zombie wouldn’t pop out of the latrine pit and bite them in the butt; the Sorcerous Kingdom’s Undead security made sure that wouldn’t happen. For the same reason, they didn’t pray to the god of fire that the flames of war would pass them over. They didn’t pray to the gods of wind and water for favourable weather because the Sorcerous Kingdom regulated the weather. Prayers to the god of earth for a bountiful harvest fell silent because the Sorcerous Kingdom took care of that too.

The Sorcerous Kingdom was sucking the energy out of the Faith of the Four and Liane’s projections indicated that they would dwindle and vanish once the latest generation of Acolytes died out. Their gods had been supplanted by new ones – ones who could be seen every day in the flesh or bone or whatever they were made out of. Prayers were unnecessary: petitions went to the local leaders and the leaders would speak to the new gods in person. Worship was nice, but the new gods preferred taxes.

Conversely, the Faith of the Six seemed to only grow stronger. Some of it made sense considering that they had an Undead god. They were also used to being treated as a minor faith. Still, that shouldn’t have resulted in their current growth. Liane was missing an important piece of the puzzle.

Maybe I should see what they’re up to in those services…

Or maybe she shouldn’t. Clara and Ludmila might take it as a sign of her interest and bury her in their fervour.

“So,” Liane said, “where are we going first?”

“A group of village artisans wanted to show me something before we got going,” Ludmila said. “After that, we will be headed to the citadel district. Smith Kovalev has kindly set aside time for us to have a meeting with him.”

The Blacksmith had supposedly travelled to many places and had somehow become their most promising source of information. For all of its raw power and the superlative talent that directed the nation, the Sorcerous Kingdom’s information-gathering capabilities were strangely lacking. Or maybe they were being careful about something.

Still, it was decidedly odd that the information networks of the Sorcerous Kingdom’s nobility appeared to be better than those of the nation that they served. Then again, one couldn’t exactly send a Death Knight to wander around listening to people speak in plazas and taverns. Even Shadow Demons were laughably terrible at independent operations. The differences in culture were just too great so they couldn’t make sense of much. Instead, they tried to take note of everything hoping that something might be useful.

Agents like Dame Verilyn were a good start. While it was unlikely that they could get another Dame Verilyn so easily, Liane encouraged Lady Shalltear to raise more agents to serve her court. Having the right information was critical for effective decision-making. While the overwhelming might of the Sorcerous Kingdom allowed them to brute-force many things, it wasn’t efficient and they likely couldn’t get away with stumbling blindly about forever.

“Mmmkay, what else?”

“After that, we will have lunch on the way to the Upper Reaches. Vicar Aspasia will be conducting a midday service at the construction camp there.”

Another service?

“We’ll be doing something too, right?”

“Of course. It will mostly be an inspection of the winter’s progress.”

“How are the tribes in the Upper Reaches doing?” Florine asked, “You were worried about how things would go, weren’t you?”

“I was worried about a few things,” Ludmila replied. “Having them fall in line was not what I was worried about – it was what comes after that. The way that you managed to have everything in the north happen the way it happened so quickly is still a mystery to me.”

Never mind Ludmila, Florine’s achievements were a mystery to nearly everyone. Lurking beneath her demure demeanour was a unique outrageousness that was probably unthinkable to anyone else. Ludmila was probably the closest person to Florine in that sense, and if she didn’t get it, no one would. They both had an intuitive, ‘violent’ charisma that was more difficult to resist than physical weapons.

“I’m sure you’re doing fine,” Florine said. “You have more experience with Demihumans than I do.”

“More experience stabbing them, maybe.”

Liane yelped as Florine pinched her arm.

“People will participate in what attracts them,” Florine said. “Demihumans are no exception. You have many good things going on in your demesne and your subjects seem content and happy. It’s easy to guide people along the paths that they already wish to follow.”

…or so she said, but not everyone could do it. This was especially the case with new peoples and cultures. Florine could effortlessly feel her way around unfamiliar circumstances to build diplomatic foundations from nothing. Ludmila was the same way, but Liane felt like she used her talents to effortlessly figure out better ways to kill people.

“How close to the Theocracy is this new town?” Themis asked, “I am amazed that you can keep Demihuman populations near the border without incident.”

“They were always there,” Ludmila said. “The Upper Reaches are separated from the Theocracy by a mountain range and it is not worth the resources to attack tribal populations that are unlikely to threaten the border. They keep the wilderness on their side suppressed and have occasionally helped in the past to remove significant threats on our side that were identified.”

“The Abelion Wilderness is treated as a training area for Theocracy forces,” Alessia said, “much like the Katze Plains. Otherwise, we would have nothing to keep us sharp.”

“What about the war with Evansha?” Florine asked.

Alessia grimaced at the mention of the Elven conflict.

“That one is a recent thing,” the young Paladin said. “The Elf King betrayed us, doing something unforgivable. It does not help that he is too proud to admit his wrongdoing. It is the opposite, in fact: he believes that he is entirely justified in everything that he does.”

“What happened? Is it something you can share with us or is it some confidential matter?”

“It is not exactly a secret,” Alessia replied. “It is simply a distasteful story that is not pleasant to share or hear. Once, the Kingdom of the Elves in the great sea of trees to our south was an ally of the Slane Theocracy. Sometime after the Demon Gods were vanquished, the Elf King deceived one who…well, I suppose you could say that she was the closest thing to royalty to the people of the Theocracy. The incident left her with child and shattered the trust between our two nations.”

Liane frowned inwardly at the account. What was the sense in that? Ruining an alliance over selfish lust? There had to be more to it.

“If you were allies,” Florine said. “Why did the Elf King resort to something like that?”

“I do not know the exact details of what happened and why,” Alessia said. “This was about four generations ago.”

“Four generations,” Ludmila frowned. “So this war has been going on for nearly a century?”

“No, Domina,” Alessia shook her head. “There were many considerations to make. The Elf King is one of the Thirteen Heroes who defeated the Demon Gods. Evansha is a hostile place to Humans, with many Lord-class beings as strong as Human heroes. As for the Elves…well, the Elves conduct war as you do, Domina. Armies of tens of thousands can be kept at bay by a single, powerful Ranger.

“For our part, we had a country to defend, other countries that depended on our protection and the Elf Kingdom is not so easy to assault. The woman who was left with child was the most physically powerful person we had at the time. Only recently was it determined that we had the means to exact justice, so open warfare has only started in recent times.”

It seemed that ridiculous things happened to everyone. Even powerful countries like the Slane Theocracy had their own troubles. Liane looked at the grim faces around her and cleared her throat.

“So you went from fighting these Demihumans in the Upper Reaches for generations to being their boss,” Liane said. “I wonder how they feel about that. And you.”

“Both they and I know the rules,” Ludmila replied. “Starting from that point, I hope that they will contribute to our systems in the ways unique to them.”

“See?” Florine nudged the topic forward with a smile, “You already know what you’re doing. It’s like Lady Shalltear always says, yes? Just trust your feelings.”

Liane shared a look with Clara, who shrugged in return. When it came to Lady Shalltear’s court, it felt like Florine and Ludmila were the hounds that led them around, sniffing things out while Liane and Clara were left to make sense of their findings.

“So we look at this construction site after lunch,” Liane said. “Where do we go after that?”

“Sister Alessia wants to watch the battles after school, so we will head back here. Dinner follows, followed by evening service. After that, we can check how things have been going in the harbour.”

“Hmm, okay. What about tonight?”

With their Rings of Sustenance, the rest they had taken the previous night was enough to sustain them for the next week. Themis, Alessia and their household staff still needed rest, however.

“Work,” Ludmila told her. “On that note, make sure you send for yours before we leave.”

“Feh…isn’t this entire tour ‘work’ already?”

“What of it?”

Liane glowered at the Taskmistress of the Vale. While Liane couldn’t say that she wasn’t interested in what they were doing, fun and entertainment were never considerations in Ludmila’s plans.

“When are we going to see the dam?” Liane asked, “I wanna see how that mill is working out.”

“Tomorrow,” Ludmila answered. “After morning service–”

“Another one?!”

“–we will visit the Lizardman village. Following that will be the dam and we will stop for a service at each of the farming villages.”

At this point, Liane was fairly certain it was a religious tour featuring Themis and Alessia.

“You need to take a look at the new road and bridge to Völkchenheim County, too,” Ludmila added.

“I do?”

“To see if it will work for your wagons?”

Liane furrowed her brow.

“Look,” she said. “If things follow regulations, then anything built to our specifications will work. Stuff doesn’t magically become better just because I look at it. I’m not even a construction worker.”

For some reason, people treated engineering the same way that they treated magic. No, it was probably worse than that. Though things like machines, wagons, roads and other technologies were designed meticulously from the ground up and crafted with extreme precision, seemingly everyone short of Engineers, Architects and Dwarves treated them like mysterious artefacts that produced equally mysterious results.

“Mmh…you would make a good follower of The Six,” Alessia said. “You already think as we do.”

“I-I do?”

“Alessia…” Themis frowned.

“I am just saying!” Alessia replied defensively, “It is simply an observation. She is pragmatic like we are – the Faith of the Four is filled with all sorts of silly nonse–bpht!”

The Paladin folded in half and crumpled to the ground. Themis lightly shook her right hand.

“My apologies, Lady Wagner,” the Cleric said. “Alessia is not fully accustomed to the way things are here yet.”

“Uh…is she alright?”

Being punched by an Orichalcum-rank Cleric was no joke, considering that they could punch down wooden gates and fold bars of mundane steel in half. Alessia’s enchanted mithril plate didn’t seem to help at all.

“My, how kind,” Themis smiled warmly. “Worry not, however. Sister Alessia is very sturdy – even boulders bounce off of her.”

But not your fist…

Liane gave Alessia one last glance before she and Florine went to deliver messages through Ludmila’s Elder Lich. After making their way in and out through what appeared to be a jungle, they went to see the artisans Ludmila had mentioned, who happened to be waiting for them at the wagon yard. The artisans and their apprentices lowered their heads as they approached.

“Lady Zahradnik,” one of them said. “What do you think?”

Ludmila walked over to examine their product, which was something like a carriage. Rather than the highly-seated carriages employed by the affluent, this one appeared to be a modified grain cart.

“Did you commission this?” Liane asked.

“No,” Ludmila answered, “they came up with it on their own. Something like a hobby?”

Liane peeked into the back of the ‘carriage’. It was essentially a covered box with benches inside. Rather than using a tarp over wood or metal ribs for the covering, they put together a solid wooden box. Narrow glass windows were installed to provide a view of the outside.

“Four, eight, twelve…” she counted the passenger spaces, “what was this thing originally?”

“Just a wagon bed, m’lady,” a man nearby replied. “These Soul Eaters go so fast that it feels like the wind’ll strip your face right off durin’ the winter. This one’s the latest we came up with.”

It wasn’t as cold in the lowlands as in Warden’s Vale, but they were facing similar issues with the new public transportation system. People who wanted to travel had to bundle up and shield their faces to stay comfortable during the ride. Everyone knew what a carriage was and there was certainly no lack of talent when it came to figuring out a solution for the problem, but, because the wagons belonged to the Ministry of Transportation, people just quietly bore the conditions.

“What did the Ministry of Transportation say about this?” Liane asked.

“The transport ladies kindly allowed us to fiddle around with this wagon,” the man answered. “We had some rules to follow for safety’s sake. I think it turned out alright, though.”

Liane slowly walked around the makeshift carriage, disassembling its construction in her head. It had the feel of a very informal prototype designed by amateur Wainwrights. Except…

“So you all got together to make this?”

“Yes, m’lady. With the way things are put together here recently, it seemed natural to try it with this.”

She nodded, finally realising why the overall feel of the vehicle felt strange. Rather than the entire thing being cobbled together by an amateur, each component was handcrafted by different professionals and made to fit together. The panels, windows, furnishings and detailing were all of good quality, but the overall look was awkward.

Liane stepped inside using the fold-out stairs in the back and paused: the interior was heated, too.

“We will take this to the Upper Reaches,” Ludmila said. “I will let you know what everyone thinks.”

“Can’t wait to hear it, m’lady,” the artisans bowed again.

They piled into the passenger wagon and were on their way shortly after. Liane bounced on her seat several times, checking the upholstery.

“So when you say that they ‘came up with this on their own’,” she said. “Does that mean they paid for it and did everything outside of work?”

“Yes. You should know that this is a part of our faith. Living one’s life according to the tenets of the Six Great Gods is the principal form of worship and this is especially true for us since we do not have any temple staff in the territory. One is to pursue their life’s work to the best of their ability, which includes hobbies related to their craft.”

“But…hobbies cost resources. Money. I know things are better off than they were before, but normal people usually can’t put out something like this over a few months.”

Some people were so devout that they hurt themselves attempting to observe religious principles, but common folk were generally ruled by common sense.

“Discretionary incomes are much higher here than the rest of the duchy,” Ludmila said. “Last year, I had no people and plenty of land. My entire demesne is optimised to take advantage of Undead labour. One farming household in my territory manages somewhere around six times more land than a farming household in the interior. The other primary industries have a similar arrangement.”

“Now that’s just unfair,” Liane said sourly. “No wonder you can do everything that you’ve been talking about. The Nobles of the Sorcerous Kingdom might not be playing the same game as the other Nobles in the region anymore, but you’re not playing the same game as the other Nobles of the Sorcerous Kingdom.”

“You should already know that I only plan on developing a small part of my territory,” Ludmila said, “so the difference is not as large as you make it out to be.”

“I guess…” Liane replied. “What do they do with all the crap they come up with?”

“Local Merchants purchase their products and find markets for them. Popular products turn a profit. Even if they only recoup some of the costs, the artisans get to hone and improve their skills.”

And the circulation of goods was subject to trade tax, which funded the maintenance and development of infrastructure for both the local lord and the crown. The people’s religious devotion to self-improvement and how it was being applied in Ludmila’s territory made the Faith of the Six seem less like a religion and more like some weird productivity cult that generated revenues.

Their wagon crossed into the ‘citadel district’ of Ludmila’s capital, though there were only a few clusters of buildings here and there. They stopped on the northwestern end where a large industrial complex had been raised.

“Don’t tell me this is your Blacksmith,” Liane said.

“This is my Blacksmith,” Ludmila told her.

“Your ‘Blacksmith’ is almost half the size of my town!” Liane cried, “Why is everything so huge here?!”

“It is land allocated in advance that is not being used for anything else at the moment,” Ludmila replied. “I only have one master Blacksmith and his apprentices, so most of it is storage space. We are still working on the salvage from last summer.”

She had forgotten about that. Not only did Ludmila have plenty of land and fanatically productive subjects, but massive armies also appeared to dump tons of free steel at her feet. Life wasn’t fair.

They disembarked and walked up to a building surrounded by warehouses on three sides. A Soul Eater idled outside of it with a partially loaded wagon. Liane peeked over the edge and lifted the cover of one of the crates. It was full of nails. At least they were normal-sized.

A rugged man in a smith’s apron appeared from the building. He looked to be in his mid-thirties with dark hair and dark eyes.

“Lady Zahradnik,” he said. “Welcome back.”

“Thank you, Smith Kovalev,” Ludmila smiled. “And thank you for agreeing to see us on such short notice.”

After everyone exchanged their greetings with the Master Blacksmith, he led them into the building and through a row of workstations with anvils and forges. The apprentices looked up from their work with wide eyes as the procession passed through to a small office at the other end.

“Hm,” Smith Kovalev said, “I swear this place is larger with just me in it.”

“It looks like you will need a new building soon with all of the apprentices you have picked up,” Ludmila squeezed herself over to one side to make room for the others.

“More than that, my lady,” he replied. “A plain Blacksmith won’t do anymore. We need to get specialised facilities up for all of the different specialisations that these apprentices are splitting up into.”

“What do the numbers look like?” Ludmila asked.

“Three want to stick with regular blacksmithing,” the master Smith answered. “Of the other four, half want to go into weaponsmithing and the others into armour. Between all this salvaged equipment that we’ve been taking apart and that little war the harbour’s been having over the winter, they’re all sold on it.”

Ludmila nodded as Smith Kovalev spoke. Seeing how much free space and raw materials she had on hand, Liane could imagine her readily approving everything.

“After the new facilities are constructed,” Ludmila said, “how many more apprentices will you be able to take on?”

“That depends on how much work you want me to get done,” the Blacksmith replied. “The apprentice blacksmiths still aren’t experienced enough to do a lot of things on their own. If you’re willing to keep my personal work to a minimum, I’d say a dozen more apprentices. In a year or so, the first batch will be able to teach new apprentices the basics.”

“Except we do not have any spare children running around,” Ludmila murmured, then looked over to them. “Can anyone spare me some spares?”

“No,” Liane replied.

“No,” said Florine.

“No,” Clara smiled.

“I can update your posting at the Cathedral,” Themis offered.

“As always, I am at the mercy of the gods,” Ludmila sighed, then turned to the Blacksmith. “I should not take up too much of your time, Smith Kovalev. Were you able to recall much of what I sent ahead about?”

The Blacksmith opened a desk drawer, pulling out a sheet with notes scrawled over it. He leaned back onto a stool in the back corner of the office, resting his right foot on the stretcher.

“This might sound strange to you, my lady, but my knowledge of what you’re asking is broad rather than specific even when talking about specific places. A lot of what I say has to do with how the practices that support trade work rather than how specific countries work. Does that make any sense to you?”

“The three other ladies here are from Merchant houses,” Ludmila said. “They are the ones who will be working with what you share with us. I just ironically happened to have a subject who seems to be the only source of detailed information.”

“I see…then, if you haven’t been to the southeast, has anyone been east past the Empire?”

“I have,” Liane said.

Smith Kovalev nodded and turned his attention to her.

“Great,” he said. “How far have you been?”

“Grand Wythes on the edge of the Great Steppe.”

“Do you know how caravans cross the Great Steppe?”

“They just do,” Liane shrugged. “The steppe tribes might fight each other and raid Karnassus, but they don’t attack Merchants.”

Only Monsters, wild beasts, savages and criminals attacked Merchants. Criminals were criminals because they broke the laws created by those in power. Those in power understood that commerce was the lifeblood of civilisation and maintaining it reinforced a ruler’s power and solidified their influence over a region.

“That’s right,” the Blacksmith said. “The Equestrian King could conquer all of Karnassus and Merchants would still be able to go on their merry way. What goes on between nations doesn’t involve Merchants unless they are suspected of taking sides. I guess what I’m trying to say is that every place has rules and customs and a sort of common logic that the rest of the world follows. People around here – and by here I mean the countries around the Sorcerous Kingdom – seem to believe the rest of the world is just a big old nasty jungle with something behind every tree waiting to eat Humans. Humans who seem to have an inflated opinion of how delicious they are compared to everything else…well I guess that’s true for Minotaurs, at least.”

“So what you’re trying to say,” Florine said, “is that we need to grasp this common logic if we’re to understand how the countries in the rest of the world work?”

“It’s easier said than done. At the same time, it’s not very hard once you get into the right mindset. And that’s the problem: people here are raised without that common logic. What was once here got uprooted and something else took its place. Now, you got this tiny part of the world trying to twist the rest of the world to what it thinks the world should be and that of course doesn’t work.”

“I know that a lot of things hint that something is wrong here,” Florine said, “but is the rest of the world so drastically different?”

“Not so different that it can’t be understood,” Smith Kovalev said, “but, at the same time, it’s different enough that those who keep an open mind can still slip up and get themselves in trouble. Those mistakes can be fatal in a lot of places. The laws and customs of other lands aren’t created by those in power to have everyone happily get along for no reason: they’re created to achieve desirable results. What one group thinks is desirable doesn’t necessarily line up with the desires of others.”

The same could be said for any country in the region. Even for subjects of the same country, it could be the case. Many commoners conflated ‘decent’ or ‘moral’ conduct and thinking with lawful conduct and got themselves in trouble believing themselves in the right. This, of course, created resentment amongst the many people who thought the same way. Nobles were often the target of this resentment because they both understood and enforced the law.

Liane supposed a place where similar errors were fatal minimised the propagation of that erroneous thinking. At the same time, it didn’t allow one to figure out where they went wrong until it was too late.

“We may not have much time to grasp this ‘common sense’,” Clara said. “How does what you say pertain to the Draconic Kingdom?”

“The Draconic Kingdom is essentially a Human Kingdom on the ‘uprooted’ side of things,” Smith Kovalev replied. “It would be difficult to screw up there unless you get on the bad side of the wrong people. If you’re going there as envoys, you’ll receive special considerations. Being Nobles will also tend to subject you to local expectations.”

So something like visiting the Baharuth Empire, except it was the Draconic Kingdom.

“What about the Beastman Kingdom?”

“That one’s more complicated. Even though it’s also on the ‘uprooted’ side, the fact that it’s a Demihuman country means that its development is fundamentally different from a Human one.”

“Before we continue,” Ludmila held out a palm, “could you explain what you mean by ‘uprooted’?”

The Blacksmith blinked at Ludmila’s question. His gaze went across each of his guests before returning to her.

“Right. Sorry about that. When I say ‘uprooted’, I mean that something happened in the past – usually some sort of calamity – that destroyed what was there before. Around here, the Demon Gods would be the most recent of those calamities. The Eight Greed Kings might be another one of them but they’re so far back that things aren’t clear. Entire nations or even multiple nations just vanish; histories are destroyed and people displaced. The cultures that hold civilisation together are torn apart and scattered to the wind.”

“So that’s what it was,” Florine crossed her arms under her breasts with a thoughtful look. “I knew something was wrong, but I never had the right frame of reference to understand what it was.”

“Whaddya mean?” Liane asked.

“You never noticed?” Florine frowned, “Hmm…well, how old do you think the world is?”

Liane furrowed her brow at the odd question.

“Older than me? Older than anyone can remember.”

“That’s right,” Florine said. “If that’s the case, why do Humans and most of the other races in the region act as if they’ve never interacted with one another before? If all these races have been around for longer than any tale or legend can recall, why haven’t we formed into some greater civilisation that harbours many different races? It isn’t as if we can’t – it’s quite easy, in fact. Even without overwhelming strength, you have places like Karnassus where different people can mostly function as parts of a whole and it is more efficient because each can act according to their own strengths.”

“So you’re saying whatever’s happening is being done on purpose to screw with us?”

“I don’t know if it’s on purpose or not,” Florine replied, “but it happens all the same. Smith Kovalev used ‘uprooted’ and I think it’s an apt metaphor. The majestic trees that are those old civilisations get pulled up, leaving ruins behind. What grows in their place is fresh and raw – we don’t have all that history to build upon. Everything is forgotten and we have to start all over again. Each race collects with its own kind and creates societies that centre around themselves.”

Smith Kovalev, whose attention had been violently seized by the fertile hills being projected at him, nodded as they rose and fell with Florine’s words.

“That’s exactly right, my lady,” he said. “After these calamities happen, the nations are raw, as you put it. In the case of the Beastman Kingdom, it means that they’re strong in a savage, physical sense and see other races as potential prey. Because they’re so strong, they’re behind in certain types of artifice and knowledge because they don’t need it, but it won’t stay that way for long.”

“Why’s that?” Liane asked.

“Because they’re closer to the rest of the world than we are. The more developed countries deeper in the continent see these ‘uprooted’ regions as a frontier full of resources, talent and labour that can be enticed away to further their causes. Those with races that can negotiate with these frontier peoples send their envoys and establish trade, share ideas and attempt to influence them.”

“Does that mean entering into conflict with the Beastman Kingdom might drag in countries that we have no idea about?”

“Possibly,” Smith Kovalev replied to Ludmila’s question. “There are powers out there that make the Empire seem like a pebble by the roadside, such as the six in the centre of the continent. They’re all rivals, but each can’t act directly against another without exposing vulnerabilities to one or more of the other powers. Instead, they build up influence in the world trying to get an edge over the others. You may have representatives from the Beastman Confederacy trying to bring that Beastman Kingdom in on their side, for instance.”

“So if we act against that Beastman Kingdom,” Ludmila frowned, “it may bring the entire world to our gates.”

“Assuming that whoever is trying to court them thinks it is worth their while to act,” Clara said. “They may be members of other races, but this sort of manoeuvring should follow clear lines of logic.”

“Assuming that they follow the same logic at all,” Florine noted. “While they might be able to forge the ties of civilised society, they still have their own ways and values.”

Assuming, assuming. It felt as if assuming was all they could do. Liane abhorred taking action with insufficient information. They couldn’t keep blindly fishing around like this. Effective intelligence operatives were required. The sooner they had them, the better.

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