Chapter Fifteen - Brilliant Banners

I was quite glad for the existence of spells like prestidigitation as we waded through calf-deep ash. The two cultivators had techniques that allowed them to step onto the loose ash as though it were solid ground, but our mantis companions lacked any such abilities and were forced to push through the ash with some difficulty.

I took some mild amount of pity on both Mem and Rem as they started to cough and splutter at the presence of so much ash. Cinder had been right when she warned that the ash could be dangerous to those that needed to breathe.

A few simple healing spells, cast so that they'd dispense their healing over the span of several hours rather than instantly, helped to alleviate our insectoid companions' suffering. It also stopped Rem's grumbling. I wasn't entirely irate by her complaints, seeing as there was a good reason for them, but I would be lying to myself if I didn't admit that they were frustrating to hear.

The path that Elder Frost charted eventually led us to a second set of stones that we could walk upon. I noticed that these had been brushed off and were much easier to find. They had tall banners next to them, with a symbol embroidered onto their surface.

The banners were black and white, a diagonal stripe splitting the shades across the middle. In the centre, a mountain, and from the top of it, a grey tree rose. "Is that the symbol of your sect?" I asked. There were two words written in the local pictograms. Ash and Forest.

Elder Frost chuckled. "It is. There was a strong fad some three decades ago. Every sect needed a banner with art and symbols to represent them. This is ours."

"A fad," I repeated. "I recall such things coming in vogue then leaving in time. Knightly houses would adopt a coat of arms, then the nobility would adopt a crest of their own. Businesses catering to them would commission complex signage, then smaller ones would adopt their own."

"So everyone would have a banner of their own?" Cinder asked.

"Until every shop and inn and street gang has a crest of their own, yes," I said. "Then the nobility would start to think that such things a gauche and rather kitche and would simplify or drop their own heraldry, starting a new cycle."

"How long do these cycles take?" the elder asked. "I recall such banners being popular in my youth, but that was a long time ago. Then they, as you said, became somewhat unfashionable."

"I think the time for fashions to change depends on a number of factors," I said. "But the most important of these are the degrees to which people can afford to change their organisational appearance--which requires both the means to produce new appearances and the means to afford that production--and a certain degree of communication. Good ideas, if isolated, are lost."

Cinder nodded along. "The idea for the banners came from the west. A few of us went there for a grand tournament where banners were seen, and so we created our own. More recently, I think the idea of such things has become less popular. Though maybe not unpopular."

"That makes sense. The empire is rather wide and communication standards are still quite slow. News seems to mostly circulate via criers, heralds, and letters. If the empire had better road infrastructure, or magical means of travelling, then news and new ideas would move far faster."

"Is that something you wish to change?" Elder Frost asked.

I considered it for the next few steps. "I don't think so. But I might bring about such changes anyway. If your sect falls in line, the limpet continues to grow, and we start to establish a foothold in the empire, then I see no reason why the regions under my control should stagnate. Poor communication bothers me, and it's not overly complicated to rectify."

"How would you do it?" Cinder asked. "I'm very very very curious."

"Well, the simple method is to employ undead birds to carry letters and light parcels. Use undead labour to rebuild and improve roads, In times of uncertainty or when banditry is still an issue, instituting a caravan system with undead guards can also improve material-travel times."

"Logical steps, but only available to those with the undead at their beck and call," Cinder said.

"No, it's possible without. Merely more difficult. Magic makes for a fine replacement. Undead are generally weaker than golems and servitors made of metal and magic. Summons from other planes of reality can do most tasks in the same way, though with questionable allegiances. Or you can do it all with well-trained, well-paid people. Yes, that is the least effective method by which to start, but I think that given time and space, technological and mechanical solutions can be found for issues that you don't want to tackle via magical means."

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Elder Frost glanced back at me. "Why would you care so much for fixing things without magic, when you seem to always have the magic for them?"

"Hmm, an interesting question. There were once large areas of the world where magic was weakened. A nation once created an entire field around themselves which disrupted magic, making the casting of weaker spells entirely impossible, and complicating the casting of more powerful ones."

That had been a space where spells below the second tier were almost impossible to cast, and those between the third and fourth were significantly more complex. At least for those spells who earned their tiers from complexity as opposed to their level of danger.

"That region developed mechanical systems to overcome the hardships they imposed upon themselves. Long aqueducts for moving water. Railed cars connecting cities together powered by steam engines. Without magic as a shortcut, but with time and resources to innovate, they found their own solutions. That is something I can respect."

"What happened to these people?" Cinder asked.

"I politely removed their leadership. Their anti-magical stance was rooted in superstition and foolish beliefs. Their ancestors, those who'd actually created those very same systems, had done so because they couldn't control magic. And having things outside of their control was, to them, unforgivable. Once the fields faded, magic returned as a favourable option."

"Was magic better?" Cinder asked.

"Industrialization is powerful, and creates great works. But it also does much harm. Magic is, in its own way, significantly cleaner. Just ask any druid about the consequences of an industrial revolution."

Cinder frowned, but nodded. I imagined that the young cultivator would ask the first druid she met. If she did meet one. Druidism seemed just close enough to cultivation as a vocation that I imagined there was a severe overlap in some places.

That could make for an interesting point of study.

We continued to chit and chat as we ambled along, hopping from stone to stone, each marked with a banner of the sect. I imagined that remaining hidden, so close to the heart of the sect, was a moot point. If someone had made it through the Ashen Forest to this point, then they'd make it to the sect no matter what. The banners also provided a clear marker of... ownership over the location. No one trespassing could pretend to be confused or lost when there were large signs flapping in the wind every dozen necrometres.

"I can hear water," Alex said. I glanced over to the maid and made note of very twitchy ears. "Not too far from here, bone daddy."

"That's the lake," Cinder said. "We've arrived. And it's only early evening."

"We'll have to see if the ship we requested is prepared," Elder Frost said.

As it turned out, it was.

We left the edges of the Ashen Forest, landing on a beach whose shores were covered in muddy ash covering countless small pebbles and larger boulders. The Ashen Lake was quite large. So much so that I couldn't see across it to the other side, though the tops of the mountains there were still clearly visible in the distance.

A pier had been erected along the shoreline. It was made of stone, the same as the stepping stones we'd been using, though these were weathered by age and the tides and left stained by ash and grime.

A ship sat next to the docks. A single masted vessel, quite long and sturdily built, and painted a dull grey with white sails. It was crewed by three figures, all in the garb of the Ashen Forest sect, and all of whom stopped at our arrival and quickly gathered on the pier.

"Lord Harold, these are the members of the sect who will be bringing you across the lake," the elder said. "I believe it is in their best interest to introduce themselves to you, as they will be attending you for the journey."

***