Valkyrie's Shadow

Chapter 2

Is this the ‘Noble hospitality’ that Lady Wagner spoke of?

The hold of Clan Oro bore little resemblance to the holds of Human Lords. There was no manor or keep – only a spacious expanse under the boughs of a great tree. The tree itself grew near the top of the city’s highest hill, and many dens were fashioned in its shadow. il-Enawe con Oro entertained them beside a clear pool fed by channels of rainwater that flowed down between the tree’s labyrinthine roots. Hundreds of his warriors feasted around them, and the occasion filled the surroundings with good cheer.

According to Lady Wagner, who had briefed her on the Empire’s aristocracy before she was sent on her winter assignment, Human Nobles did something similar. Be they from Baharuth, Re-Estize or Roble, those who paid a visit to a Noble manor were afforded hospitality in accordance with their station.

No one was turned away; even common travellers were at least given a safe place to rest and some food, though commoners were usually more comfortable finding lodgings with other commoners. Knights dined with Lords in their halls and fellow Lords were treated to feasts. Kings and Emperors were, of course, spared no expense. Countess Corelyn mentioned that monasteries and hospitals filled that role in the Theocracy for pilgrims, clergymen and other travellers, though Ilyshn’ish wasn’t sure what a ‘monastery’ was.

This custom was, of course, not some one-sided show of hospitality. Several expectations were placed upon the guests. First was that travellers were usually the only source of news in provincial regions, so they were expected to share what they had heard during their journeys. Much of the host population’s repository of lore and recent events was woven in this manner.

Additionally, word of the host’s hospitality and the various things that they displayed were to be spread. In other words, it was a way of building prestige, advertising goods, and adding various other tidbits to the slow flow of information that circulated a realm. Bards were universally recognised, and their role as bearers of culture, lore and information usually earned them a special place at a Lord’s table. Conversely, a poorly treated Bard could ruin a Lord’s reputation through skilful slander and manipulation of information.

The question now was how much of that applied to Beastman Lords and what other things they might expect of her.

“Your city appears prosperous and lively, il-Enawe,” Ilyshn’ish said. “It does not fall short of the major cities that I’ve seen in my travels.”

Il-Enawe’s tail came up, his posture shifting in a clear display of pride.

“Is that so?” He said, “Of the outside world, we only have knowledge of the Draconic Kingdom’s cities to compare to. Where have your wanderings taken you?”

“I have just started my travels recently, but I’ve already been to many places. I have seen the cavernous underground strongholds of the Mountain Dwarves and the citadels of Frost Giants in the frozen peaks. My journeys have taken me over the cold waters of the northern ocean where mountains of ice ride the waves and leviathans rule the deep. Most recently, I skirted a vast plain ruled by the Undead and through the lands of a Human Empire, witnessing their war of ruthless expansion against a quiet woodland realm.”

All around them, members of Clan Oro quieted and shifted closer to hear her words. As expected, the leader of the warrior clan picked out the last bit of her spiel.

“Where did this war you speak of happen, and when?”

“Not three months ago,” Ilyshn’ish replied. “Roughly fifteen hundred kilometres north by northwest of your fair city. The woodland realm is known as The Blister, a beautiful jungle sanctuary nestled in a volcanic caldera over a hundred kilometres wide. It is a place of bubbling hot springs that feed warm rivers and steaming lakes. Its dense canopy traps the heat rising from the ground, turning it into a place that feels like summer the year round.”

“And the inhabitants?” Il-Enawe asked, “Who was it that called The Blister home?”

“Magical Beasts, Heteromorphs, and Demihumans of many types. Goblins, Ogres, Trolls and Troglodytes. Mightiest amongst the tribes of the Blister were those of the noble Hyena Beastfolk that you may know as Gnolls. Over them all, however, was an Ancient Green Dragon, the Viridian Dragon Lord, who scattered her progeny across the jungle to play their insidious games of intrigue.”

Il-Enawe and his warriors gaped at her claim.

“An Ancient Green?”

“Indeed,” Ilyshn’ish inclined her head slightly. “A mighty wyrm who stood unchallenged for centuries; whose domain encompassed not only The Blister, but also the lands of the Human Empire around it. The Viridian Dragon Lord exacted tribute from them all, and it was for that reason that the Humans took up their weapons to overthrow her.”

“I find it difficult to believe that Humans, of all people, could stand up to an Ancient Dragon,” il-Enawe leaned forward. “Did they have some secret weapon that gave them the means to challenge the Viridian Dragon Lord?”

“Many powerful champions came together to slay the foul Green and her brood. Do you know of the nature of Green Dragons?”

“We sure do. There are dozens of those nasty reptiles lording over the Jorgulan Commonwealth to the east. We’ve been fighting them for generations.”

“Ah, that explains your keen interest in the tale…but, no, the Humans had only their champions, their armies and their magic to contest the Dragon Lord’s reign.”

The Con Lord’s demeanour imperceptibly shifted, as if something disappointed him. It only lasted for a moment, however, and Ilyshn’ish continued the tale.

“The Empire was shrewd in its preparations, laying traps before executing their plans. Their first move coincided with the presentation of their tribute, for the Viridian Dragon Lord was proud and vain and loved to display her superiority over all. To do this, she had her brood gather the mightiest of their servants to form a parade that conveyed the tribute to her lair. In one fell swoop, the Empire’s champions fell upon the champions of the jungle, wholly slaughtering them while they were burdened with their task.”

“And, in doing so,” il-Enawe nodded thoughtfully, “they knocked out the Green Dragons’ strongest supporters.”

“Just so. Their victory over the jungle champions also marked the beginning of the Empire’s greater assault. With the Viridian Dragon Lord waiting in her lair for her treasure, they only had a few days to defeat the remainder of the jungle tribes. Flights of Hippogriffs and Griffons mounted by Dragoons and War Wizards fell upon the disparate tribes, while the Empire’s army marched into the jungle, trampling its denizens who were unaware that a grand offensive had commenced. Warrior, civilian and child alike fell to cold steel and fiery spell. Partway through their advance, however, the Viridian Dragon Lord roused and became aware of the Humans’ advance into her domain.”

“I don’t see how the Humans could survive the wrath of an Ancient Dragon,” il-Enawe said.

She was tempted to include her part in the fight, but decided it would lead to awkward questions.

“The Viridian Dragon Lord thought the very same thing,” Ilyshn’ish nodded. “Her minions and her brood were depleted, but she was still mighty in her own right. Confident that the Humans could do nothing to her, she departed the jungle to show the Humans the folly of their actions by choking their cities to death with her noxious breath.”

“How many of the Humans died?”

“None,” Ilyshn’ish said.

“None?!”

“Indeed, none. For the Viridian Dragon Lord committed an error. Distracted by the brave flying forces sent against her, she didn’t realise that she was now the target of a trap. The aerial battle strayed over the foothills of the Azerlisia Mountains, which was the territory of their powerful neighbour. Within minutes, a terrible Dark Elf appeared to slay the Viridian Dragon Lord with a single arrow from her bow!”

Deathly silence followed the fall of the Viridian Dragon Lord. Ilyshn’ish could sympathise: she would be terrified upon hearing that for the first time as well.

“A-a Dark Elf, you say?” Il-Enawe swallowed, “I’ve never heard of such a terrifying being!”

“Terrifying doesn’t even begin to describe her,” Ilyshn’ish’s voice was grave. “Before anyone realised, she dressed the Viridian Dragon Lord as if she were a hunter dressing another day’s quarry felled in the field – an Ancient Dragon turned into a pile of crafting materials in seconds.”

“How…how far is the Draconic Kingdom from the territory of this ‘Dark Elf’?” The Con Lord asked, “We should warn Clan Torokgha about such a powerful being if her territory is nearby. Hmm, or maybe…”

Il-Enawe crossed his arms and looked down at the stone table between them, brows furrowed in thought. Ilyshn’ish took the opportunity to pop a chunk of Nug meat into her mouth. It really did taste like Nuk.

“Could it be that you wish to meet her?” Ilyshn’ish asked after going through an entire plate of meat.

“Before he embarked on his great venture in the west,” il-Enawe said, “Kal’il-Endratha said that new opportunities for our people must surely come with the conquest of the Draconic Kingdom. Not just opportunities for land and trade, but also chances to build beneficial relationships with the nations that lie beyond. ‘Rol’en’gorek has always been surrounded by enemies’, he said, ‘and we must learn how to make friends’.”

“Are your neighbours truly so bad?”

“They are, in different ways. The Jorgulans and their Green Dragon masters are a slowly-growing threat that becomes more aggressive over time. The tribes of the Worldspine may as well be from a different world. Profit is the only motive of the Great Lut, and they as a great leech that cannot be removed.”

“What about the Draconic Kingdom?”

“The Humans?” Il-Enawe snorted, “The Humans are the worst. We are naturally predator and prey, but it is on the largest raids that you see their true nature shine through. I have witnessed it personally on several occasions; when fiery Angels fill the skies and I stared into the eyes of their elite warbands. They do not see us as beings who also struggle for our place in the world, but as things to be destroyed. It is no simple war that they wage; they take great glee in going out of their way to torture and slay our braves. Everyone in the west knows that there can be no peace with the Draconic Kingdom, for they would destroy us all if given the chance.”

Lady Zahradnik seemed to have a glowing opinion of the Draconic Kingdom’s people, so Ilyshn’ish wondered how the Beastmen had arrived at such a different conclusion. It was as if they were talking about two entirely different countries. Then again, they did light people on fire.

“Maybe they were mad about being eaten,” Ilyshn’ish offered.

“That’s unreasonable,” il-Enawe waved a paw dismissively. “Besides, it’s not as if we’ve been eating them into extinction. We have always followed the ways of predator and prey. Without us, their lands would be overpopulated and overgrazed. Besides, you don’t see us complaining about being eaten by others.”

“You may have a point there…”

It was perfectly natural to fear for one’s life and fight for survival, but, as far as she knew, Humans were the only race that complained about being eaten. Other races treated predation as an unfortunate fact of life at most.

“If you seek friends that may see things more as you do,” Ilyshn’ish said, “I would say that the City State Alliance is your best bet.”

“What’s that?”

“They are the remnants of a nation called Karnassus, which was shattered by the advent of the Demon Gods. Humans live there as well, but they are only one of many species that call themselves citizens. By virtue of that alone, one may assume that they hold a broader worldview.”

“That sounds promising,” il-Enawe said, “whereabouts are they?”

“North of the Worldspine,” Ilyshn’ish said, “they occupy the plateau region between the Baharuth Empire in the west and the Great Steppe in the east. If crossing directly over the Worldspine proves too difficult, you can always try going around.”

Another rainstorm swept over the city, accompanied by peals of thunder that reverberated across the valley. Ilyshn’ish turned her attention upwards, watching water trickle from the branches above.

“These patterns of weather don’t match what I’m familiar with,” she said. “What are the seasons like in Rol’en’gorek?”

“We have a dry season in the winter,” il-Enawe said, “and a wet season for half the year following it.”

“Is it safe to travel in the coming months?”

“The initial deluge makes travel over land treacherous. Flooding and mudslides are common. If you plan on travelling during those weeks, I would suggest going by way of the river. The deluge is a quiet period when most of us spend time with our families, but the cities will be lively enough.”

“Since it’s like that,” Ilyshn’ish said, “I’ve heard of a great city in the east. I’d like to get there as quickly as possible.”

“Ghrkhor’storof’hekheralhr? I believe you will find much of interest there. As for the fastest route…you can cut through the jungle east of here. After a hundred kilometres, you’ll find yourself in the Tzeltal River Valley. If you follow that river downstream, you’ll reach the city of Achi, where the Tzeltal joins the Oriculon. Il-Enchotl ocelo Achi is a good friend of mine and he would be ecstatic to host you in his hold.”

They remained in Oro until the morning, and Ilyshn’ish entertained her hosts with a selection of tales and news from the world abroad. She purposely avoided mentioning the Sorcerous Kingdom and any connections that she had with the Undead, as it seemed like a bad idea to be associated with what most considered the enemies of all life. Il-Enawe was already more than satisfied with her offerings, so there was no need to go out of her way to invite trouble.

The following morning, il-Enawe saw Ilyshn’ish and her companions to Oro’s eastern gate, describing the way to the pass leading to the next valley. They made their way through the pouring rain, following a well-travelled road up the mountain. Once the city disappeared behind a bend in the jungle trail, Ilyshn’ish addressed the Krkonoše.

“So,” Ilyshn’ish asked, “what did you think of il-Enawe and his people?”

“A variation of a path well worn,” Vltava said. “We have seen it countless times before, and shall see it many times more.”

“You don’t have to make it sound so bland,” Ilyshn’ish said. “Theirs is one song amongst many, but that song is still uniquely theirs. It has a value intrinsic to itself.”

“Meh.”

What a rude fellow.

Maybe it was a side effect of being a member of such an ancient society. Anything new was just as likely something old, and thus they were unimpressed by nearly everything. Ilyshn’ish hoped that she wouldn’t be like that when she was an Ancient. It was such a cold and distant way to look at the world, suited to those who isolated themselves from it.

“What about you two?” She asked the two Rangers.

“Their culture is a collection of long-forgotten scars,” Pinecone said. “It is tragic to look upon.”

“Would you relieve them of that tragedy?” Ilyshn’ish asked.

“No,” Pinecone answered. “That tragedy is as much a part of the world as anything else. It is their song to sing, as you might say, Seeker.”

In many ways, the Krkonoše were relaxing to be around. They generally understood what was necessary and unnecessary, and they had a fair idea of how things fit together. It was unlike travelling with the many mortals that constantly tried to impose their worldview on everything and became offended whenever something had the gall to oppose it.

“In that case, did you notice anything troublesome for us?”

“No,” Vltava said. “The effect of their actions is limited. A ripple in the corner of an ocean. I have seen neither power nor will enough to be of any note.”

“That is an assessment for the present,” Pebble said. “Though they may ultimately not get very far on their own, they may contribute to something greater than themselves. This is not always desirable.”

“It is not our concern.”

“At what point does it become ‘your concern’?” Ilyshn’ish eyed the Krkonoše Druid worriedly, “I hope we won’t end up flattening half of the country.”

Vltava trotted ahead to investigate a clump of ferns. Then he took them all in one, vicious chomp.

Ilyshn’ish’s worries grew. Did he just make a statement? She wasn’t sure if she could stop him if he decided to act on something. Destroying cities left and right would make reporting the information that Lady Shalltear wanted difficult, and if the evil little Vampire didn’t hear what she wanted to hear, things would go poorly for Ilyshn’ish.

They arrived in the Tzeltal River Valley late that afternoon, stopping at a rocky outcropping several hundred metres off of the trail. There, she had the Krkonoše stop for a meal while she scouted the surroundings from the air. It didn’t take long for her to discover that they had entered a valley she had crossed over with Lady Zahradnik on their brief flyover of the Beastman country. Relief fell over her and she returned to her companions.

“I know where we are now,” Ilyshn’ish told them. “We can be in the city I wanted to see in two or three days.”

Vltava rose from where he was resting and floated back down to the trail. Ilyshn’ish assumed her felid Krkonoše appearance and rushed off after him.

“Why did you want to come here, anyway?” She asked.

“Curiosity,” Vltava answered.

“Over what?”

“Before encountering the Warden, we were migrating eastward. We scried the way ahead, past the place of unlife to the lands beyond. We found a place ideal for habitation, which the locals call the Worldspine, but since we settled under the Warden’s protection, many questions remain unanswered about what we saw.”

They crossed paths with a set of different felid Beastmen from before. These ones were larger than the Con and had dark, spotted rosettes over coats of yellow shades. About one in ten had black coats, though there were no other differences between those and the rest. Ilyshn’ish bobbed her head in silent greeting as they passed one another, ready to snatch Vltava and run away if he tried to bite them.

After going by without incident, she released a quiet sigh of relief.

“Those are the ‘Ocelo’ that Lady Zahradnik described to me,” she said. “They’re physically more powerful than the Con, but the Con have better endurance.”

“Are the tribes here all divided by species?” Pebble asked.

“That seems to be the case, both here and in the Draconic Kingdom. The rural territories are occupied by tribes composed of a single species, which answer to clans of that same species. That big city I mentioned has a good mix of them.”

Now that she thought about it, the Krkonoše didn’t have the telltale tribal foundation of many races in the region. The core of their society was a mutualistic relationship between the felid Krkonoše and their druidic counterparts. Unlike tribal societies, it was practically impossible to drive a wedge between the two. Attempting to do so was akin to trying to convince a squirrel that trees were bad.

“How come I don’t see other species with the same sort of relationship that the Krkonoše have?”

“Because the races here are young,” Vltava said, “in a manner of speaking. They are not the same as their predecessors of aeons past. It is…corruption that has manifested in recent times. The beings of the present are born captive to that corruption, and the degree to which the corruption affects them depends on the degree that they have been *usurped*. Biology; identity; ideology; thought and circumstance – that which was built on those things crumbles away as new realities establish themselves.”

“But that’s chaos.”

“Indeed,” Vltava said. “Chaos reigns, and it is a chaos that most do not recognise. Sanctuaries of true natural order are precious and rare…and fragile.”

She already had a sense of that. Many things were broken, and none of those things could be repaired. All one could do was make do with the remains.

“I have to wonder how the Krkonoše survived unscathed.”

“Not unscathed,” Vltava told her. “All have been touched. But the Krkonoše do not *exist*. Those who do not *exist* cannot be *usurped*. Thus, we retain much of what we were. At the same time, our mortal life spans spare us from the fate of others who existed before the corruption.”

“Such as?”

“The Keepers of old. Once, they were part of the same world as us. But they are eternal, and their legacy has been *usurped*. Now, they are the champions of a world that no longer *exists*, eternally lost as they are driven to maintain what no longer is.”

“Well, that’s not horrifying at all.”

Vltava’s words reached deep into her soul, striking a chord of terror unachievable by any mortal peril. What would it be like to understand one’s purpose in life, yet be eternally denied that purpose as it no longer existed?

“I suppose the products of this ‘corruption’ are in the most favourable position, in that case,” Ilyshn’ish muttered.

“To an extent,” Vltava said. “The primal energies of the world, in particular, have been provided with ways to manifest themselves. This was not possible before. It comes with a sort of confusion on its own, however.”

“As it is with our dear Warden.”

“As it is with the Warden, yes.”

They arrived at the city of Achi after nightfall, lining up outside the gate as they had at Oro. The fact that the city’s inhabitants were not bound by diurnal habits meant that it was just as busy as – if not more than – any Human city during the day. Ilyshn’ish idly tapped the pink pads of her paws together as the line slowly shuffled forward, watching those ahead of her interact with the city’s security. Recalling what had happened at the previous city, she tucked Vltava under an arm before their turn came around.

The sentries at the entry gaped up at her. Ilyshn’ish cleared her throat.

“My name is Winter Moon. These are my travelling companions, Pebble and Pinecone. And Vltava.”

A long silence ensued as the Ocelo warriors looked back and forth between them. Someone in the back shouted for them to hurry up.

“Erm, what’s your business here?” The larger of the two sentries asked.

“I am a Bard travelling through the region,” Ilyshn’ish replied. “Il-Enawe con Oro mentioned that I would receive a warm welcome from ocelo Achi…was he mistaken?”

“O-of course not! The clanhold is across the river on the mountain. You’ll have to take a ferry at the docks to get there.”

Ilyshn’ish thanked the sentry and entered the city. Achi had an entirely different design from Oro, splitting into two levels not far past its entrance. The ramp to the upper level led to a network of arboreal walkways, while the lower level consisted of boardwalks winding their way over the jungle floor. The upper level seemed to be occupied solely by Ocelo, so she opted to take the ground route.

A short journey through the undergrowth led them to a riverfront teeming with activity. Most of it was centred around the barges moored along the long wharf. Ilyshn’ish tried to make sense of the cargo being loaded and unloaded.

Timber, leather, wool, ivory, meat, fish…

In short, it was more of the same she had already seen along the trade routes of Rol’en’gorek. Disappointingly, there was still no sign of the jewels mentioned by the Con villagers near the border. There were several covered barges that gave off the scent of Humans, but she wasn’t in the Beastman country for those.

“We should secure some accommodations,” Ilyshn’ish said.

“Did il-Enawe not recommend that you visit with the presiding clan here?” Pinecone asked.

“He did,” Ilyshn’ish answered, “but I’d like to see how the common people get by. Let’s see…”

Ilyshn’ish tried making sense of the establishments along the waterfront. They were nothing like the warehouses, shops and inns of Human settlements, so she could only make guesses based on what the people in and around them were doing. She stopped in front of one of the larger trees, which had a ramp leading up to a platform halfway to the lower branches. Dozens of Beastmen lounged high above.

This seems promising…

“Wait here,” Ilyshn’ish said. “I’ll see if I can’t find the proprietor of this inn…if it’s even an inn at all.”

She made her way up the ramp, which wound around the tree trunk before reaching a landing ten metres over the river. Curious glances turned in her direction as she looked around for something resembling a reception counter. An Ocelo female tentatively approached, her tail tucked between her legs.

“Is…is there something we can help you with?” She asked.

“Yes,” Ilyshn’ish replied. “I seek lodgings for myself and my companions. Is this the appropriate establishment? If so, are you the proprietor?”

“I’m the innkeeper. I-it’s one copper per person per night…?”

Why is she framing her rates as a question?

Ilyshn’ish stuck her paw into an Infinite Haversack. The Ocelo backed away cautiously, then visibly relaxed when Ilyshn’ish produced a silver trade coin.

“One night, please,” Ilyshn’ish said. “Do you have change for this? Or some supplies that we can purchase?”

“Of course! Thank you for your patronage.”

Which one was it?

Ilyshn’ish furrowed her brow at the retreating figure of the Ocelo innkeeper. Was it something she was doing that kept eliciting their timid behaviour? After failing to think of anything, she shrugged internally, heading back down to retrieve her companions. The furrow returned to her brow when she found Pebble and Pinecone at the bottom of the ramp.

“Where’s Vltava?” She asked.

Pebble gestured south along the wharf, to where three Urmah surrounded the diminutive Krkonoše Druid.

“Look,” one of the Lion Beastfolk said with a flick of his ear. “What exactly is your problem?”

“There is no problem,” Vltava flicked his ear back.

“There obviously is!”

Uh oh…

“What happened?” Ilyshn’ish asked in a low voice.

“Nothing,” Pebble replied.

“There is no problem,” Pinecone added.

“Nonononono – there obviously is!”

A furious roar carried through the air.

“That’s it! I’ve had enough of you!”

“Bring it on, pussy!”

Ilyshn’ish dashed for cover.

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