The Cauldron of Industry was, essentially, a cave system. Untold millennia of dripping water and human mining had torn the mountain rocks into pieces, forming vast pits. Those pits had become dumping grounds for huge quantities of (it was believed) industrial chemicals and waste. This then combined with the seeping water to form impossibly acidic or alkaline bodies of toxic death. People wisely avoided them, no matter how colorful they became.

This is where it all went a bit weird. The toxic death pits… created life. Perhaps it would be more accurate to say that life evolved to survive in them. Entire species of extremophile bacteria developed, reproduced and mutated again, becoming ever more perfectly evolved to survive the toxic soup they were born in. Different depths of the pits, with their subtly different chemical makeup, had different bacteria growing in them.

And where you have different bacteria, you have different bacterial waste. The pits didn’t have to rely on industrial waste to create their freakish environments anymore, the bacteria developed their own freakish environments, feeding on each other and leaching nutrients from the mineral rich water seeping through the rocks.

This went on for… certainly millennia, perhaps longer. And eventually, it was discovered in this epoch by settlers. Settlers who had recipes for some algae plastics (a very common thing in caches) but no actual way to cure those plastics into something much more durable. Making algae paste into something that more-or-less holds together and is waterproof? Easyish. Developing the advanced chemical engineering needed to harden and improve those plastics? Very hard. Or you could dip them in these handy pits.

Various plutocrats claimed their descent from the first, or one of the first, settlers to have seen the possibilities in the pits. It took centuries of trial and error to figure out which pits worked best with which types of plastics, how long to submerge the plastics, at what depth. Centuries of workers dying when the poison waters splashed on them, or the fumes burned out their lungs, or the plastic protective gear they wore suddenly caught fire in the rain. But that, as the old joke went, was a sacrifice the plutocrats were willing to make. Because it worked. Red Mountain was the greatest plastics manufacturing center in the Greenfire Continent.

So if the Plutocracy was throwing a cocktail party in the Cauldrons of Industry, they were making a fairly major statement. The landau made a pretty major statement of its own, dwarfing the size of even the largest carriages pulled in front of the entrance. Xiachoii elegantly drifted down from the valet section of the landau, and pressed her fair hand to the door of the main compartment. Upon some hidden signal, the main door opened and Xiatokte descended.

There was some mystery to his movement, some hidden rhythm to his steps. The tap tap tap of his elegant boots upon the stone made you think he was going to explode into dance. Eyes were drawn to him, and stayed with him. His secretive little smile made you want to sit him down and find out every wicked little secret he knew.

Xiachoii thought she was, at the very least, decent looking. She was certainly dressed to impress in gold and white and precious stones the size of pigeon eggs. She was totally ignored when Xiatokte appeared. To her, that was just as it should be.

Part of the reason every eye was on Xiatokte was the person waiting to greet him. At the top of the stairs stood Jerri Nomeki, smiling. Jerri was… distressingly ordinary. She was neither fat nor thin, not very pretty or very ugly, and of exactly average height for a woman her age and class in Red Mountain. She hadn’t aged particularly well. The stress of her job and the copious wine and narcotics that went with it all took their toll. She was almost the same age as Xiatokte, but looked thirty years his elder. Perhaps even forty.

“Jerri! You haven’t aged a day!” Xiatokte loudly gushed. Jerri’s eye twitched.

“Xiatokte, as I live and breathe. I was sure some angry husband had left your castrated body in a ditch somewhere. We even had a pool going about which ditch.”

Xiatokte laughed merrily.

“How would they dare, when their wives are so happy? Who is in attendance tonight? It sounded like the whole Plutocracy.”

“Almost. We have some exciting news to announce, and since you were in town, we wanted to make sure the news got back to Cold Garden in a hurry.” Jerri’s smile was almost angelic. “Come on in, I expect I don’t need to announce you.”

They walked a little slowly, both out of decorum and because Jerri’s hips weren’t what they used to be. Xiachoii trailed silently behind.

“How is Xiatoktok holding up? I’ll spare the soft soap, I was pretty sure I had killed him.” Jerri said casually.

“Thriving. Planning on taking a concubine, would you believe? In fact, it should have happened by now. I’m waiting for the pictures.”

“Huh. And here I thought he was the only halfway decent one of the lot of you.”

“We have a duty to humanity. It was past time he did his part.” Xiatokte said primly. Jerri stopped a moment and closed her eyes. She then looked up at Xiatokte.

“I always hated that about you. You the Xia, not you personally. Although you too, actually. Personally. The… sheer patronizing effrontery of your worldview. You have a duty to improve humanity with your genes. You have a duty to humanity to improve the living conditions of the people. You have a duty to make sure the light of civilization is transmitted throughout the centuries and epochs.”

If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. Please report it.

“Well. We do. Who else is going to do it? You?”

“Yes. Or maybe not. Maybe the world ends in my generation. Who cares? Humanity’s fate has always been out of our hands. Sooner or later, one of these apocalypses will be the last. We will all die. And there is not a single goddamn thing the Xia can do about it.”

Xiatokte took a long glance at her. This was out of character for Jerri. She always prided herself on schemes and strategy. This had the air of a dying declaration.

“Likely so. But so what? Do we just give up? Or do we try to make the time we have as comfortable and productive as possible?” Xiatokte quietly asked.

“Yes. Just give up. Or better still, mass suicide. Your whole program, the Xia’s whole operational philosophy is based around control through superior information. You make people slaves with invisible chains. The Grand Illusion? Oh yes, I have read my Ireneaus. A lifetime in banking and I know all about The Grand Illusion. The illusion isn’t money. The illusion is that all your patronizing bullshit is real. But it isn’t. Its cover. For the fact that you think we are livestock.” Jerri’s voice was coming out in a hiss. “The whole world, converted into your herds.”

“Perhaps. But happy livestock. Certainly better than what you manage here.”

“Because of you! Because you put this idea out there, that this is the way the world should be!” Jerri was almost gasping now. “I know what a corporation is. They have ‘em out east. I don’t know what your game is bringing them here, but I am damn sure that it ends with more people in chains. And my damn fool colleagues in the Plutocracy are going to go right along with it.”

They had been standing in the hallway for a few minutes now. Servants were starting to stick their heads in to check on them. Soon, more guests would come.

“So what of it? Why say all this now?”

“Because of what is coming tonight. I want you to know beyond question that I know exactly what will come of it. I want you to know exactly why I made it happen.”

“Because you hate the Xia?”

“Because I hate the world the Xia made, the world you made me live in. I hate that you made me part of your monstrous ideological machine. That I spent a lifetime in chains. So.” Jerri started walking down the hall again, no quicker than before. A little diminished, like all the bottled up rage had been keeping her inflated, and now she was shrinking in on herself.

“So now, Xiatokte, enjoy the party. Each little nibble cost more than a home in the slums. The wine was made with the very best fruits from the very best vineyards and aged for decades. The musicians are quite possibly the finest in the north west, having spent every waking moment since childhood honing their craft.” She didn’t look at ’Te. “Enjoy everything. Every last damn thing.”

The party was a glittering whirl of the wealthy and their toys. The Plutocracy had a dress code of ostentatious displays of wealth. Strange devices, bits of remnant tech that hummed or orbited their heads or shone a light over the food to make sure it wasn’t poisoned, all were taken out and displayed. People had famous dancers, or singers, or courtesans as their guests. They swallowed entire glasses of wine, then with a sneer threw the wineglass against the cave walls. Because they could. Because the time and effort of the glassblower was nothing to them.

Xiachoii always kept herself exactly one step back and a half step to Xiatokte’s left, as protocol demanded. She peered vigilantly around her, wondering where the trap was. Xiatokte made no sign of concern. Instead, he chatted merrily with various plutocrats, hinting of deals to be made and money to be won. Not to mention answering a few simple questions about just how corporations worked. And how useful they could be in preserving wealth amongst the wealthy.

After an hour of drinks and excellent nibbles, a fine brass gong was struck. A liveried servant stood by the entrance of the cavern.

“Revered Patrons, honored guests, I now announce the Guest of Honor- Ambassador Plenipotentiary, General Blas de Leso!” The partygoers politely applauded, then applauded a great deal harder when they saw the enthusiasm of the Plutocrats.

The door opened to reveal an old man in a simple military uniform, accompanied by a young aid who looked ready to fight six bears at the slightest provocation. The old man, de Leso, looked blandly confident as his good eye trickled across the room. His left eye was gone, and the great man disdained an eyepatch. His left hand was gone too, as well as his left leg below the knee. His right hand was intact, but the way it hung withered by his side said he didn’t get much use out of it.

“My thanks to the Plutocracy, for welcoming me so charmingly! My thanks to the Plutocracy for their foresight and wisdom! My thanks to the Plutocracy, and the assembled honorable guests, for being here tonight as we sign this historic agreement.”

The Plutocrats lead another grand cheer.

“The Leoinidas Collective is proud to be Red Mountain’s largest trading partner. We are proud to support you in this dreadful time! And as proof of our partnership, what could be better than ensuring the safety of the people and the flow of commerce which so enriches all our lives?”

Muted cheering this time, along with some serious nods. Footmen raced out, carrying an elaborate table. More servants, scribes, carried out elegant parchments, ready for signature.

“I, General Blas de Leso, Ambassador Plenipotentiary by the investure of the Central Political Committee of the Leoinidas Collective, stand ready to sign the Grand Compact. Honored Plutocrats, do you agree?”

“We do!”

The scrolls were rolled flat on the table, and the Plutocrats mobbed around, competing to see who’s signature would be the fanciest, and who’s seal the gaudiest. Jerri went last. Her signature was tidy, perfectly legible, and underlined. Her seal was likewise impeccably pressed to the paper. She slowly straightened her back and collected a wine glass from a passing waiter. She saluted ’Te with it, downed it in one go, and smashed it directly on the floor. The rest of the Plutocrats, roaring with approval and laughter, did the same.

General de Leso smiled indulgently, and with the support of his aid, quietly added his seal to the Compact. The aid acted as anuminais. Nobody minded.

“Wonderful, wonderful. I am so happy today, my heart could burst. With this, our cooperation shall be clad in steel. The First and Fourth Pioneers shall take Red Mountain as their field headquarters, garrisoning the land and holding Ravens Nest Pass against all enemies. With this, the prosperity of Red Mountain is assured.”

Xiatokte didn’t hang around. The ink wasn’t dry on the Compact before he was out the door.