CHAPTER 13 FINALE
A MALAISE OF DESPAIR
By the time the sun began radiating through the forest canopy, Astor was already done with his morning ritual and began walking down the Old Road that led south. Nobody knew when the road had been built. The history taught in the House Morgan compounds was that; The Empire had been founded by the Twin Emperors Rurik and Wulfric. Rurik the Wise, rediscovered how to use the Relics, bringing the countless wonders of the Ancients back to life. However, the Relics, so vital to modern society, were already ancient by that point.
Over the course of countless generations, the Empire would undergo successive waves of collapse and revival. When the Empire was strong, it reached up to claim the territories to the north. With their armies came engineers and philosophers that built great works of architecture and codexes of law. When it was weak it receded. The architecture would then fall into ruin and the law was ignored by powerful warlords that rose to fill the power vacuum.
The Empire was on the ascent again. When the Imperial Legions marched up from the south, ten years ago to make war on the Gothii, they brought with them ancient records of Votterdam’s status as a province of the Empire. They were willing to compromise with House Morgan, who represented the bulk of the military power the city had to offer. With forty thousand legionnaires outside the city nobody else wanted to argue the point.
And so the city was recovered by the Empire, and House Morgan appointed as the official representative authority. Since then the Gothii War had been won, at great cost to the other coastal cities. Votterdam became the largest surviving bastion of civilisation in the north.
Astor was pulled out of his thoughts by the sight of a great rectangle of stone jutting out of the earth at a diagonal angle beside the road. It was even larger than the Slaver had described when giving him directions. Just beyond, was a smaller paved road veering off to the left. The fact that it was paved, instead of packed earth, was quite conspicuous. It indicated that the juncture was built as part of the original Old Road.
As he followed the path, ruins began appearing among the trees. Criss-crossing throughout the forest underbrush were lines of rubble that indicated where walls of buildings might have stood thousands of years ago. Strange mounds of earth stood at regular and unnatural intervals. Occasionally a piece of some buried stone construct could be seen jutting out of the ground, covered in moss.
This was probably a major population centre at some forgotten juncture of history. Astor wondered if any Relics here still worked. Relics and ruins littered every corner of the known world but almost all of it had crumbled into ruin. Very important exceptions existed however. The Ancients created some Relics with self maintenance and repair functions.
Votterdam was built around a Relic that produced fresh water daily, sustaining the population in a place that would normally be too far from natural drinking water. The Relic Priests attempted to keep records of the known functional Relics, but many of them had unknown purposes or required power sources that had been lost.
A wooden palisade was revealed through the trees as Astor turned a bend in the path. It stretched out through the forest in either direction and there was a strange shimmering in the air above it, like a great bubble dome. He approached cautiously but couldn't see anyone manning the fortifications.
They were simple as far as fortifications went; logs had been cut from the forest, stripped of branches, and sunk into the ground in rows to form a wall. Not even a gate could be seen, just a simple gap in the wall was there to welcome him. Astor noticed that the wall had been built to the point at which the shimmering in the air began. The shimmering filled the hole in the wall like a coat of oil in the air. Astor approached tentatively.
As his Shield of Grace made contact, the oily surface gave way, conforming to the shape of his Aura. Astor could feel a bombardment of strange Mana coming from the air around him. He wasn't sure how it would affect a normal person, but his Grace prevented it from encroaching past his defences as he stepped through the gap. The Slavers were no doubt hoping he would have to wait outside and politely ask to enter. Instead, they had given Astor a way to demonstrate his power.
What greeted him on the other side looked more like an archaeological excavation than a Slavers encampment, despite there being so many slaves. A number of wretched looking men and women appeared to be digging around a large pit that had been carved into the ground. A compound of ancient buildings, preserved underground, was being gradually revealed.
Astor was immediately struck by how unsupervised the slaves were. There appeared to be some armed warriors further into the compound but nobody was watching the slaves, much less guarding the entrance to the site. As far as Astor could tell there was nothing to stop the slaves simply walking off.
Strange energy continued to bombard Astor’s Aura with little effect as he made his way down a steep incline into the excavation site. The slaves digging around the pit were the most miserable and wretched humans Astor had ever seen. Their Auras had very little energy, as if they were barely alive.
The slaves were slumped beneath a malaise of despair and hopelessness that drenched the entire encampment. Soft groaning emanated from dangerously underweight bodies as they swung their picks with sluggish lethargy. The sight was so depressing that Astor felt his Shield of Grace soften, losing some ground to the bombardment of energy pressing against his Aura
The energy in the air could only be the effect of a powerful Relic, perhaps even a military one. It must take a lot of power to maintain. He ignored the slaves as best as he could, not having any way to help them, and continued towards a large central building with an entrance flanked by armed guards. Astor saw the guards eyeing him with hostility as he slowly approached, taking the time to look over the compound.
The buildings were squat and square, made of ancient stone recently excavated. The more central ones had been cleaned and inhabited by the Slavers. Astor noted, with surprise, some glowing blue sigils near the entrances. These he recognised from the very wealthy homes in Votterdam. The sigil would store an imprint of a person's Mana. The imprint acted like a key, making the doors impossible to open without the corresponding Mana signature.
Most of the doors were left open, as Astor passed he saw bunk beds in orderly rows. Artificial lighting glowed from white half-orbs nested into the stone ceiling. The guards became tense as Astor approached, gripping their weapons with anticipation. Neither moved to intercept him as he entered the building however. He didn't even look at them.
Inside was a set of stairs that descended into a large open area. A great seat of stone on a raised platform rested at the back of the room, well below ground level. A man in leather armour sat upon it, watching Astor as he descended. More of the white half-orbs illuminated the room in cold white light.
The space was populated with people, all standing around as their leader sat, like a Lord’s court in session. Many were obviously warriors but others appeared to be scribes or functionaries of some kind. A few women at the back of the room wore conspicuously out of place court dresses. They had caked on makeup in some comically inept imitation of courtesan style, as if some peasant girls had raided their Lady’s chamber.
The only person standing near the leader was a Relic Priest, unmistakable in his iconic robes. The Priest’s Aura made him seem uncomfortable and confused, also oddly disconnected from the scene in general. The tension that filled the room seemed lost on him, as if he didn't understand what was going on or why he was standing there. Astor understood why; it was a demonstration of the Slavers' power.
This story originates from a different website. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.
He didn't know why a Relic Priest would help a Slaver, but it did explain how they had been using active Relics. That alone was enough to warrant an investigation when he got back to Votterdam. House Morgan’s profile on this Slaver had obviously underestimated him.
Everyone in the room was completely quiet as Astor’s footsteps echoed through the chamber. When he reached the centre of the room he stopped and closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and began dissecting the situation as the Master had trained him to do. The man in the chair was clearly Caleb.
His Aura was totally impenetrable. The only thing Astor could read from it was the intention to hide his intentions. Everything one might expect to see in an Aura was present, but none of it was there organically or naturally. It gave the impression of a man using a painting of himself as a disguise. The representative that Caleb had sent Votterdam to look for a buyer had warned them about this, when prompted by a bribe. Caleb could also, reportedly, manipulate metal at a distance with considerable force.
This information explained the room's odd decorations. Along every wall hung all manner of metal weaponry; an arsenal of spears, swords, maces, and exotic looking glaives. There were also circular saws so large that Astor assumed the Slavers had deconstructed a lumber mill to get them.
This amounted to, essentially, a knife held at the throat of everyone present. Caleb could attack from any direction with all manner of weapons without needing to leave his chair. Many of the objects were unnecessarily large and brutal looking. If Caleb’s intention was to arm himself then small and hidden blades would be most effective. This room was not designed to defend against attackers, it was designed to intimidate.
A subtle layer of fear permeated the room. Not the sharp fear of someone who expects to be attacked, but the heavy and persistent fear of someone who has been worn down by it day after day. Only the mercenaries were immune, their Auras stood out fearlessly like bubbles of oil in a pail of water.
A mercenary who was utterly fearless was valuable. The surety in their Auras showed that Caleb paid them well, and regularly. A source of good and regular pay, in uncertain times, is something that men like these would fight very hard to protect. That was, of course, as long as the gold lasted and they didn't get a better offer from the enemy.
Caleb reportedly never let his true Aura show, something that would make him deeply distrusted in honest society. If the only thing you can see about a person is their intentions being hidden from you, then it's natural to assume the worst. After all, nobody who had kind or honest intentions would need to hide them.
Relying on fear and greed was a very unstable basis from which to build such a large enterprise, at least in Astor’s assessment. There were obvious weaknesses to be exploited; Astor could seriously undermine Caleb's authority by giving his men something worse than him to fear, or by planting the idea that his riches would soon run dry.
Caleb had been watching quietly from his throne, clearly hoping that Astor would speak first. When Astor simply watched him back, just as quietly, Caleb eventually made the first move.
“Welcome to my humble enterprise Hir Astor, I presume you have come to purchase the Nexus of Dimensions on behalf of House Morgan?”
Astor was surprised at the use of his personal name. He found his train of thought put off balance, wondering how Caleb had known that he would be the one to represent House Morgan. This was no doubt Caleb’s intention.
“House Morgan deemed it worth the time to verify your claims at least, Slaver,” Astor replied.
“Ahh… But you, Astor, are you really worthy of representing House Morgan in this? The Old Tyrant will retire soon, will he not? You will probably be kicked out, like the mut you are, soon enough… or worse. What value is there in us signing parchment? Odds are it will be as worthless as you by the time you get back.”
Astor recognised at once that Caleb was trying to disrupt his Shield of Grace, which would leave him at Caleb’s mercy. Years of emotional resilience training made Caleb’s attempts seem childish. It did, however, show that the Slaver was very well informed. Not only had he been doing research on how to defeat a Grace user, he also had very detailed information on Astor in particular.
The Slaver had done a lot of work to arm himself for this meeting. Astor’s Grace was not disturbed in the slightest, but he was becoming concerned that his house's intelligence on this Slaver was dangerously insufficient. He was obviously resourceful, clever, and ambitious. but he also had a formidable spy network in Votterdam. Caleb no doubt felt he had the upper hand, however Astor did not come unprepared. He pulled a document out of his sleeve, ejected a small disc of force from his Aura of Grace, and used it to carry the document through the air to Caleb.
“In that case, since I made the journey out here, I will instead conduct an official audit to see if you comply fully with the Imperium’s slave regulations”.
Caleb’s Aura remained unchanged but his face twisted when he saw the official seals and list of signatures. Everybody present knew that Caleb was not following Imperial regulations, nobody did this far north.
There was also no way that Astor would subject himself to months of paperwork and the tedium of navigating the Imperium's official legal procedures. The threat would have seemed quite empty, if it weren't for House Morgan’s authority in Votterdam being officially recognised at the end of the war.
Everyone knew the Empire was attempting to expand its influence northwards again, but nobody knew what that really meant yet. Many merchants were getting nervous that they would be singled out and made an example of for not following Imperial law.
Astor had gone to see the Legatus Imperii who had been appointed to Votterdam, and recently arrived from the south and set up an office. The Legatus had been mostly ignored since his arrival, so he practically leapt out of his chair when Astor had come seeking an Imperial writ. If Astor wanted to clean up the local slave industry using the legal framework of the Empire, this was very welcome news. No doubt the Legatus had been instructed to try and ‘civilise’ the northerners however possible.
Caleb’s men began to shift nervously, suddenly feeling that they, and their leader, were out of their depth. One of the Master’s lessons came to mind while Astor looked on; A cornered animal will fight furiously against even the most hopeless odds. Always give them a way out, one which leads into a trap.’
“However, House duties come first. Present the asset, and the audit can be deferred, for now….”
Astor didn't need to read his Aura to see that Caleb knew he was trapped. Caleb’s men would not support him against, what they saw as, a vastly greater power. What was the point of defending a Slaver who ends up imprisoned and can't pay?
With impressive coolness Caleb suppressed any trace of concern in his voice.
“Very well Hir Morgan, I’m sure that acquiring a Nexus of Dimensions is far more pressing an issue. I regret that I will not be able to give you the slave directly, as he is not in the compound at the moment. I can however sell you the legal rights to him, and you may go to collect him yourself. At a discounted rate of course.”
Caleb made an impatient waving gesture to a functionary standing below the platform, who promptly produced some documents and began shuffling over to Astor.
“I decline. I have other duties to attend to. Bring the asset back for collection. If it is not here when I return, I will proceed with the audit until you manage to exhibit him.” Astor said calmly.
He then walked out of the room without another word, leaving Caleb to seethe while his men grew more and more nervous.
Astor’s instincts told him that something had gone wrong with their supposed slave. It shouldn't come as a surprise that a man with the dimensional powers of Rurik the Wise would not be so easy to keep imprisoned. Astor did not doubt that the slave existed, or that he was still within reach. There was no way Caleb would invite an agent of House Morgan with nothing to show, doing so would just invite trouble and insult a powerful house.
The pressure he had put on Caleb should be sufficient to force them to act. As long as he could use the slavers as a proxy there was no need for him to play his own hand into so many unknowns. Astor would deal with the Inflicted girl first, then observe the situation until he better understood all the variables.