Tohl pulled the hem of his cloak tight across his chest. The wind had been rising today, which meant that there was a chance of a dust storm. Dust storms were terrible things in the Middle Cities. The loose soil from farmlands would be caught up in strong winds, forming great clouds of dust that one could neither see in, nor breath safely. When a dust storm was apparent, entire cities would seal every entrance to every building to prevent the storm getting in. Tohl had heard of people dying in the storms because they arrived too late and their families would not let them inside. He had been caught in two dust storms since coming to Athshin, though he had been lucky enough to wait them out from a comfortable inn. Still, they caused delays to his plans. That’s all a dust storm presented to him: an unavoidable delay.
Plans were all Tohl had. Plans and counter-plans. Stratagems & schedules. Every plan connected by fine strands of silver. If one plan failed, then the integrity of the structure was weakened. It was not in his plan to visit Outpost Onx today, but he had to to ensure that the plan it was attached to was still operating smoothly. Fine strands of silver.
He traveled light. Outpost Onx was not a place he wanted attention drawn to. Just him, Billis, and their horses. The trip from Underdune took several days. They rode at night and whiled away the daylight hours confined to their chosen inn. Tohl was dressed in his full covering: an ash grey uniform that left not a sliver of his sensitive skin exposed. They had faced a little hostility from a nest of thieves on the road, but Billis dealt with them easily.
Outpost Onx nestled itself in a cluster of high hills. A military checkpoint from the days of the empire, now abandoned due to the degradation of the Serpent Paths leading to it. The walls attached to the outpost stood like they always had, but the wooden gate had long since decayed. Tohl saw a torch burning on one of the walls. A cloud coatlmade in the midst of his patrol.
“Keep moving. This place belongs to us.” The guard hissed as Tohl and Billis drew near.
Two humans approached from the courtyard. Both were old and scarred. Career bandits and thugs. Better than paying sellswords and trained men for the position. Primarily because they were cheaper, and they didn’t attract as much investigation when found squatting in an old building.
“I’m here to speak to your superior. Where is Solind Vissima?”
The guards took three steps back, but didn’t lower their weapons. The one with the torch barked for someone to fetch Solind.
“You stay right there. You and the woman.”
Tohl ignored the order and kicked his horse to take him within the courtyard. The two human guards, both with buckler shields and swords, blocked his path. One smugly gestured that Tohl should back up. Billis stared calmly ahead. The wind blew her long hair in her face, but she didn’t mind. She never minded. Tohl held up two fingers then curled them at the guards. Billis left her horse, drew her falchion, and slowly approached the two guards. Her eyes were blank, as always.
“Nonlethal, Billis.” Tohl chirped from his horse.
The two guards attempted to stop Billis from walking further, but they were felled by Billis’ sudden movements. She shattered the shield of one then gouged his leg so that he collapsed. The second guard aimed to flank her left, but his sword was blocked by Billis’ shield gauntlet. She struck his leg too. A deep cut that glistened in the dawn light. The two guards wailed and crawled away from the blank-eyed woman. Drawn by the commotion, more guards arrived. They froze uneasily upon seeing the two intruders. Billis was immobile, waiting for her command.
There was no need. Solind rushed out of the main building accompanied, as always, by the buzzing of flies and the faint smell of cheap alcohol. He cursed when he saw his soldiers prepared to attack Billis.
“Your non-insect underlings lack manners.” Tohl said coolly.
“You get what you pay for. Just tell your flesh golem to stand down!” Even Solind was afraid of Billis. Good. Fear of Billis meant fear of Tohl, and fear was always useful.
“Billis, sheath your blade. The lesson has been taught.”
Billis obeyed. She always obeyed. Once dismounted Tohl looked at his bodyguard’s face. As unblemished as the day they had met. Billis wouldn’t look him in the eye (unless he ordered her to). Solind called her a flesh golem. Rude, but not entirely wrong. Tohl caressed the side of her scalp, lingering intently on the horseshoe-shaped scar there. Relishing the feeling of superiority, Tohl turned his pink eyes on Solind. The human hadn’t shaved in a while. His yellow robes fluttered noisily in the wind. Tohl noticed the half-empty bottle of groppa in his hand. Insects always seemed louder when Solind was near. Fitting, given his status as a cleric of Silesia. A cloud of horseflies buzzed around Solind’s lopsided head.
“Solind Vissima. I take it you weren’t expecting me until later?”
Solind looked sheepishly at his bottle. “Basically. C’mon, I did have the sense to set up the meeting room.”
Solind headed for the doors. The guards parted to allow Tohl and Billis to follow. Before entering the outpost, Tohl tapped Solind’s bony shoulders.
“That one up there had a torch lit. I could see it well before I reached the outpost.”
“Ah. Well, he’s new.” Solind looked to the coatlmade on the wall. “Bit of a decu rego though, so I guess he won’t be missed.”
Solind took a deep dreg from his bottle. He focused on the coatlmade and held aloft the bronze cicada around his neck. The medallion emitted a green magic. The other guards looked away from their coworker. They knew the cost of having a torch lit at night. Of making their presence here known. If they didn’t, then this would serve as a reminder.
The coatlmade was looking to the horizon, barely aware of Solind. He only cocked his head back when he heard the buzzing swarm approach. A black cloud of biting flies descended on him. At first he was silent, believing he could bat them away with his torch. Then the insects targeted the soft flesh of his eyes and nose. He started to scream and beat his face to rid himself of them. In his panic he fell off the wall. A snap told the crowd that his leg was broken. Tohl smugly went inside. He didn’t need to see what happened next. The man’s screams were all he needed to know that the example was being made.
Inside Tohl removed his coverings. His air starved skin relished the release. Solind swigged his groppa as a cover for gawking at Tohl’s skin. Solind was as tanned as any human in Athshin, which meant that Tohl stood in sharp, sharp contrast.
“Do all elves look like that?” Solind asked at their first meeting.
“Just me.” Tohl had replied with a smile.
The first room of Outpost Onx had once been a stable for riding drakes. Now it held many stacked crates of stolen goods waiting to be shipped to fences across the Middle Cities. The number of crates was woefully small right now.
“Raids not going well?” Tohl knew how to lead a question.
“Well as they always have. Your rogues disable the town, my barbatus take the people. The problem is, we’re reaching a point where some of the colonies are getting more slaves than they’ve ever had. They’re getting content, and when they get content it's harder for my pheromone magic to affect them.”
Tohl was silent. This was a minor complication. Solind’s power over insects and ease of manipulation made him a powerful ally. Tohl chose him for those reasons. He could redirect pods of barbatus to attack villages, allowing Tohl to profit off the resale of the goods taken once the people were removed. It wasn’t just about the profit, the plan never was. It was about creating the right conditions. Solind’s control over the barbatus only extended as far as commanding them to do things that aligned with their own interests. That meant ordering them to kill the excess slaves was out of the question. Tohl had back-up plans if the barbatus ever proved to be unable to continue their weekly attacks, but he had enjoyed their reliability. His eyes drifted to Billis. With a signal he could have her tear this entire outpost to the ground. She was reliable, unlike Solind. Solind was having the same thought. He knew what Billis was capable of.
“I have been working on a solution.” Solind took Tohl to one of the back rooms where a crude trapdoor had been set-up. It had not been there last time Tohl had been to the outpost. “Digging out the underside of Onx to make a new barbatus colony. Clockwise Convent where I studied was made of an artificial colony.”
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Solind looked to Tohl like he expected praise. He would not get it. Solind had acted without consulting Tohl. The plan was useless if the pieces moved on their own. On one end of scales, a barbatus colony at Outpost Onx meant greater protection, but it also drew attention. The other colonies were far to the edges of the Confederacy. One this close to Ramuf would surely prompt a quicker investigation.
“I would expect there to be more of the ants about…” Tohl murmured.
“Not using them for the digging. I’ve courted a brood pair of gigantepedes. They dig much faster. Besides, Barbatus usually take their nests anyway.” Solind punctuated this with a confident swig from his bottle. “I’m keeping the prisoner down there. Keeps her suitably terrified. Which is good for me, I was getting sick of her self-righteous-”
“You’re still receiving regular silver shipments from Sráid?”
“As regular as a fly shitting when it lands. That man really loves his daughter.”
Solind finally lead Tohl to their meeting space. It had served as the business room for the last true master of the outpost two Eras ago. The maps on the walls were either torn, faded, or stolen long ago. The chairs had been replaced multiple times. The only thing that remained was the large jagged table of petrified wood. Tohl believed the only reason bandits hadn’t taken it long ago was due to its severe weight. Tohl ran his fingers along the wood’s glassy grain. There used to be forests in the Middle Confederacy as expansive as those to the north, but the Teotl tore them down to make way for their structures.
“Now for the reason I summoned you here…” Solind draped himself in the wooden chair at one end of the room. Set on the table was one of the shipping crates used for the stolen goods. Solind proudly gestured that Tohl should inspect its contents. “One of the recent raids seems to have taken someone of Fae royalty.”
That made Tohl’s pink eyes grow wide. He peered into the crate, reaching in to grab the hem of a fine silk cloak. It was softer than any linen or fur Tohl had ever felt. Underneath were more treasures. A lock box (which Solind had picked with the aid of his insects) containing gold coins numbering in the hundreds. What held Tohl’s attention the most was a gryphon figurine of solid ivory. His mother had owned one like it. It was meant to be Tohl’s inheritance; worth more than her house plus the next five down the street.
“Nostalgic for the homeland?” Solind’s smirk faded when Tohl stared daggers at him.
“Never.” Tohl was honest about that. “How do you know it’s royalty though? This could belong to any wealthy elden in the wrong place at the wrong time.”
“Because he was wearing this…” Solind produced a signet ring set in an electrum band. Tohl recognized the symbol set in black on the amethyst gem. The symbol of the family Slevelisk.
“Of course, I didn’t see the fellow personally. I only caught on when I looked over last week’s haul. Best I can wager he was taken at Roc’s Oasis, which is a problem because…”
“That was the caravan that rebelled and broke free.”
Tohl knew every failure his minions made. How else was he to prune weakness from the ranks?
“There was an adventuring group caught up in that caravan. You’ve been in the Confederacy long enough to know the Lion’s Claw, right? I believe they were the source of the rebellion. The hombre couldn’t have gotten far, and an elden fae will stick out in all directions this far west.”
Tohl couldn’t argue with that. A member of the royal fae family would be a powerful token to acquire. He wished that he had enacted his plan to brand slaves sooner as the elden could slip away now. The names of the royal family escaped Tohl’s memory. He was a tuatha of Old Vadalis and had little reason to pay attention to fae politics.
“I’m confiscating all of this. It will help determine the royal’s identity.” Tohl announced. Billis was signaled to take the crate. When she approached Solind to take the ring, he recoiled and held it close to his cheek. “Let me just keep this. One little ring won’t be missed.”
Billis wrapped her beautiful fingers around the hilt of her falchion. She froze, as she should, to hear Tohl’s verdict. Tohl looked to Solind’s hands. He was making no attempt to reach for his holy symbol.
“He can keep it.” Tohl decided. Billis’ arms went limp to her sides. Solind expelled an anxious breath.
“If that is all you wished to show me Solind Vissima, then I shall take my leave.”
Tohl stood slowly. This meeting had lasted shorter than expected. He may return to the inn before the sun emerged.
He froze when turning to the doorway. The cloud coatlmade, the one who carried the torch, blocked his path. The man’s eyes had been chewed to opaque jelly and he walked with a limp. His throat had been slashed. One of the guards must have mercy killed him. A rank green aura surrounded him, like he had his own cloud of green insects hovering just above his scales. Tohl inhaled sharply at first, but then he recognized the glow.
“Hello Corban, I was not expecting you.”
“There was a corpse in your vicinity and I needed to converse.” The coatlmade didn’t speak with his own voice. It’s lips moved and from nowhere came a voice like a flat note on a viola.
“Ants devour me, is that the prosopon?” Solind gasped, his bottle nearly falling from his hand.
“It is. Seems our meeting has been extended. Why speak to me now Corban, is there something wrong with our arrangement?”
It was not the first time Tohl had spoken to Corban through a corpse. Despite his disgust at the coatlmade’s appearance he managed to act as if he was talking to the prosopon face to face. Corban was a powerful ally, more than Solind, and their alliance seemed to always hang on how useful Tohl was to Corban. Tohl, of course, hated that. Better to be the boot than the licker.
Corban did not respond. Sometimes the connection to the corpse caused delays. Corban went to one of the empty seats, but did not sit down. Solind’s flies drifted to the corpse. “The arrangement is decent. The bodies provided are useful in my research. I am here for two things Tohl Bahn: The first is that it has been fourteen days since you last gave me a Far Shard.”
Tohl hid his annoyance well. Solind covered his mouth with his hands, watching Tohl like he was a specimen being dissected.
“My supplier in Finis is impeded by the minotaur rebels. Once the path is clear I will gift you all the shards you’ve earned. Perhaps if you turned your creations on the minotaurs--”
“That was not part of the agreement. I will take no life, only study its change to necrosis.” Corban never raised or lowered his tone. Prosopon were hard to read even without doing it through a proxy. Tohl hoped he had not pushed his luck. “Still, I will hold you to your promise of the Far Shards. The second reason I have sought you is to tell that the master of Spiral City died this morning. His fever consumed the last of his vitality.”
“So old Crimwyrm will finally be fed to the vultures…” Solind poured a small amount of groppa on the dusty floor.
“An Emperor’s Clash will be called…” Tohl had been waiting for this moment. When he was excited he rolled his shoulders to loosen his body.
“The Clash will fall on the last day of the month,” Corban continued, “ I am...concerned, Tohl Bahn. The Master of the Order of Suffering is intent on entering the Clash. Should he be victorious he will not turn a blind eye to my activities like the previous master has.”
“That’s right. The Order has been growing bolder. I’ve caught a few of their scouts sniffing around here as well.” Solind muttered.
Tohl was silent. How best to explain to them that everything was under control? These aspects of the plan were not meant to know about the others. He looked to Billis, a peach-skinned statue forever by his side. If only all his pieces were as blindly obedient as her.
“Ghetsis Reballo and his fanatics are indeed troublesome, but I have guaranteed he shall be unable to participate in the Emperor’s Clash. You see, I am fielding my own entrant: Engañar Orodia, a diablan mercenary king who will be as blind as I pay him to be. He is eager to take the throne of Spiral City and was willing to accept the poison I gave him to pour into Ghestis’ goblet during the pre-Clash feast.”
“So that’s our Suffering problem fixed.” Solind nodded. Solind never questioned plans that didn’t involve him.
“Poison. Underhanded, deceitful, but better than the alternative.” Corban said through the coatlmade’s mouth. Tohl made a small wince at Corban’s words. Corban was a mighty necromancer, but his ethics were always stubborn. Hopefully it was an aspect that could be slowly molded to Tohl’s preference.
“That is all I wished to speak to you about, Tohl Bahn. I’m going now.”
The green aura vanished. The dead coatlmade slacked forward onto the table, landing with a moist thud.
“Food for the maggots. Soldiers for me.” Solind ran two fingers across the coatlmade’s spine.
Tohl was done here. He signaled to Billis that they were to leave. Billis hefted the box of elden treasures and followed dutifully. None of the guards would look at Tohl and Billis as they exited Outpost Onx. The two Billis had wounded scrambled away from them despite their still bleeding legs. Tohl couldn’t resist a thin smile. The same smile his Mistress had given when she watched Tohl beg for his life on numerous occasions. It had taken Tohl a long time to understand that smile. The smile you made knowing you were superior.
In the courtyard was something that was not there when Tohl had arrived. A cart pulled by two saurians laden with human captives.
“What’s this?” Tohl directed at Solind.
“The barbatus delivered it while you were inside.” One of the guards explained. His eyes grew wide when he remembered who he was talking to. “—While you were inside, sir.”
Solind stepped to the cart. “Barbatus are flawed servants. Not the first time they’ve mixed up where to deliver which cargo. Not much that can be done, short of waiting for my messenger to return.”
“That is not a solution, Solind Vissima.” Tohl hissed.
The two men locked eyes. Tohl knew Solind hated him. That was fine, he hated Solind, but Solind was part of the plan and if he started to get sloppy he would find his blood on Billis’ blade.
Solind was the first to look away, spitting on the ground as he did. “How about this: my gigantepedes need food. I was planning on letting them hunt for themselves, but if I gave them a steady supply they can finish the nest faster.”
Solind gestured to the people in the cart. Most were unconscious from the toxin administered to keep them sedated for transport, but one was awake and gave a terrified gasp. That was confirmation enough to Tohl to support this plan. It could at least serve as the foundation for a solution to their excess of slaves.
Tohl nodded his approval. Solind bowed his head back. The two were done talking to each other. Perhaps Tohl would have to start relying on Corban sooner than he thought. He mounted his horse while Billis transferred the crate’s inventory to her own horse’s saddlebags. Tohl took a last look at Solind. Drunken, naive, useful Solind. If only he knew that the poison Tohl had given to Engañar wasn’t meant to kill Ghetsis. If only he knew the extent of Tohl’s plans and how little value he actually was once the new master of Spiral City was declared. Would Solind ever realize in time to rebel? Or would he die with a belly full of cheap intoxicants and Tohl’s knife in his back?