Chapter 11
A man sat at his desk in a building just outside of Bickenstadt harbor. He was the police captain in charge of keeping the docks safe. After thirty years of diligent work to keep the peace in Bickenstadt harbor, which many say is the most important job in the city, he was rewarded with a whole precinct to manage.
He looked out of his window and saw the Bickenstadt Harbor Security Forces sprinting, their muskets held perfectly vertically against their shoulders even as they moved at full speed. His men were out mediating disputes and arresting wrongdoers. The people they were chasing, judging by their Navy blue Latewka’s, dark orange breeches, and black jack boots, were students of Bickenstadt University.
Recently, his men had been arresting more and more students for getting into public brawls over political and philsophical issues, which, if he was being honest, was almost heartening.
I’m just glad that kids these days care strongly about something.
After a few seconds a few more students passed by, this time with a dark purple Litewka and black breeches, the colors of Grössenstadt. The man laughed heartily and spoke to no one in particular.
“Looks like our kids like to start shit!”
He took a sip of his beverage, a drink made from beans imported from the Assai’id confederation. He found that drinking it in the morning made him more alert, and it didn’t have a crash nearly as hard as when Parm wore off. As he took a sip of what the Assai’iders called ‘Qahwa’, one of his men burst through the door to his office.
“Sir! There are some weird boats coming!”
He raised an eyebrow and quietly set down his cup.
“What do you mean ‘weird boats’?”
“I don’t know, they look like oversized canoes! They're covered in an artstyle I've never seen before! They’re coming right towards us!”
The police captain grabbed the musket leaning against his desk.
“Do they look hostile?”
The guard shrugged.
“I don’t know! They mostly just look weird! It’s not like the Orkney or Omaha canoes we get sometimes, never seen ones like this!”
The captain sighed and shook his head.
“I don’t think it’s a crime to look weird, but I’ll check it out. Lead the way.”
The captain got up from his desk and gestured for the policeman to lead the way.
At the docks, the captain agreed that the boats looked weird. They did look like oversized canoes, but they had sails and what looked like a building in the middle of the boat. They looked like a mix of the longships Orkney sailors show up in occasionally and those giant floating fortresses the Wako use.
The captain walked over where the ships were entering and waited for someone to come out.
As the boat lowered a plank to the dock, a strangely dressed man flanked by what looked like two servants walked over it. He wore what looked to the captain like a gray tabard lined with vibrant red twine, though it covered only his semi-naked body instead of the plate armor a tabard was usually worn over, and it seemed to buzz with many powerful enchantments, clear even to the captain's relatively untrained eye. Under the tabard was a loincloth which appeared to have some sort of geometric patterns stitched into it with black yarn.
On his tabard was a strange drawing of what looked like a dog walking under the sun. On his back was attached a large paddle with jagged, shining black stuff attached to the side. In his right hand he held a staff, a golden eagle sat atop a strange oblong platform, a golden snake dangling from its beak, articulated in places so it swayed with the wind and movement of the owner. The platform the eagle sat atop was a very vibrant green, and appeared to have small spines sticking out of it.
On his head we wore a very strange hat. It was what looked like a mass of green feathers attached to an intricately woven headband of various different beautiful, vibrant colors.
It gave off a similar effect as the plume he had seen on the Baron’s brayherd lieutennant’s helmet, though his faced forward and this one was spread out like a peacock’s tail.
His face was sharp, angular, and fairly attractive, his skin bronze and blemishless. He had beautiful cyan color face paint, just in a squre over his goatee and rectangles underneath both eyes. On his feet were a simple looking pair of sandals, and on his shins were planks of wood with strange symbols carved into them which hummed with enchantments, edged in that beautiful cyan paint on the man’s face.
Flanking him on either side were people wearing what looked like simple tan tabards with geometric patterns outlining them, simple sandals, loin cloths, and nothing else. The hair of both people tied up in a ponytail with vibrant red string. At their waists were simple looking daggers, though the blades were made of the same strange material on the more impressive looking man’s strange weapon.
The man strode forward with all the haughtiness one would expect from an Imperial noble, or perhaps a fat full-of-themself merchant. The man spoke, his voice was deep, and his language unlike anything the captain had ever heard before.
“Niltse! Niitotlacochcalcatl coyotl! Pipiltin miakpan Itlakah in Amoxtli! Nikpia tlahtoki nik mo tlahtoani!”
The captain stood there in silence. He had never heard any language even somewhat similar to this, and he had heard many working in Bickenstadt harbor. If they spoke a language he had never heard before, then he was most likely from somewhere very far away where they knew no Reikers. He noted with no small amount of anxiety the interest the man showed in his musket.
“Do you know Reikers? Reeeiiikeeerrs?”
The man tilted his head to the side.
“Tlen ka Reiiceers?”
The captain now knew for a fact that he did not speak Reikers. At this moment, the captain knew what he had to do: Find the Baron and make him deal with this. A tried and true method of solving any problem he came across. The captain gestured for the man to stay where he was and prayed to Auftragter that he understood.
“Stay here! I will find my boss!”
The man nodded slowly and spoke to who were most likely his attendants.
“Kinikneltoka techneki nik ka nikan?”
His attendants nodded and he gestured for the captain to leave.
Thank the gods, thought the captain gratefully as he scrambled off towards Castle Bickenstadt. Just a few steps out of the harbor area, he saw a giant man wearing incredibly bright armor, picking at a whole loaf of sourdough rye.
He’s here!
He sprinted over to the Baron and almost slammed into him. The Baron looked at the captain strangely and caught him as he tripped, standing him back up straight and dusting off the captain's poofy shirt.
“Baron! There’s a weird guy at the docks! He speaks a language I’ve never heard before! Do something about it!”
The Baron looked vaguely incredulous.
“How do you mean ‘weird guy’? Is he acting strangely?”
The captain gestured wildly.
“H-he looks weird! Go look at him! He’s got like a plume on his head! And some really nice paint!”
The Baron looked confused.
“Nice paint? Did he offer you paint?”
“Wha-No! Just, come! Deal with him! He seems important! He has attendants!”
The Baron sighed and checked the pistol in his left breast holster. Loaded.
“Alright, lead me to him.”
The captain breathed a sigh of relief and pointed over to the docks.
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Oh my God. He’s an Aztec!
The Baron was amazed. There was nothing in any literature he had read in this world, before or after being reincarnated that mentioned any Aztec like civilization.
The man at the docks bowed to him slightly before speaking. He was speaking a language that the Baron had never actually heard before, as in his world Nahuatl was only spoken by a very small group of people in Mexico. Luckily for the Baron, he had the gift from the gods that all reincarnations had: The Gift of Tongues.
“Hello! I am Tlacochcalcatl Coyotl! Pipiltin of much of Tlanzoma! I have been sent by my Huey Tlatoani to learn of the outside world!”
The Baron responded back in perfect Nahuatl, barely able to restrain a smug smile as he did so.
“It is good to meet you, Tlacochcalcatl. I am known as the Baron von Bickenstadt.”
Tlacochcalcatl’s eyes widened in surprise.
“You speak Nahuatl? Where could you have learned this?”
The Baron let the smile creep onto his face.
“I have the gift of translation, given to me by God above.”
Tlacochcalcatl smiled warmly.
“A fine gift indeed! If only Moteuczoma above, or maybe the Teomeh above him, saw fit to give me such a gift! You are truly blessed! Would you happen to be the Huey Tlatoani of this land?”
Moteuczoma? Like Montezuma? The actual guy?
The Baron held up his hands placatingly.
“I am not quite a king. My position is named ‘Baron’. I am the owner of a province of the Empire, I believe it is a position similar to yours, if I had to guess by your attendants.”
“Empire? You are just one part of an Empire? How many cities of this size do your people possess? While not nearly as large as Great and Mighty Tenochtitlan, this is certainly impressive! A large, bustling city of this size is always a welcome sight no matter the people!”
So it’s the same as in my old world? I wonder if their societal structure is the same as well? Well, not like I’m well versed in Aztec society anyway.
“This place is known as Bickenstadt, simply one of many Imperial cities. Before we continue talking, would you like to sample our hospitality? I imagine we have much to discuss.”
The man cross his arms across his chest nodded sagely.
“Kema, That would please me greatly.”
“Then come! Follow me to Bickenstadt castle!”
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Tlacochcalcatl looked to be enjoying the food provided to him. It was a delicious dish for how simple it was; salmon filet pan fried in Bvarian butter alongside various herbs and spices, served with a side of lemon.
“The food of your land is delicious! Though I do prefer Tlanzoman tomales overall I would say. We have much to learn from each other, of this I am sure!”
The Baron smiled and nodded. Even though that would be considered a backhanded compliment had another Imperial nobleman said something similar, the Baron had dealt with enough Brayherds to know that something like that was meant with no ill intent, just a statement of fact. He got a similar vibe in culture from Coyotl, an inbuilt belief of your own superiority, but not necessarily looking down on others.
"Yes, I concur. I look forward to learning from your people, as well as teaching them the ways of the Empire, if you truly are interested in cultural exchange and understanding. Speaking of understanding, tell me about yourself. Who are you? And why are you here? I imagine you have come from quite far away.”
Tlacochcalcatl took another bite and smiled warmly as he set down his fork.
“I hail from the great Tlanzoma Empire! I have been sent here at the behest of my Huey Tlatoani, the leader of our people, and he has sent me out at the behest of great Moteuczoma above! He has ordered that we are to learn from the outside world! Moteuczoma told our priests especially to learn of a strange powder we saw some Dwarves using as they trespassed on sacred lands.”
“Oh? Would you mind describing this powder? I have a feeling I know what it is you seek.”
“Moteuczoma described to our Tlamacazqui a coarse black powder which creates a large flash and loud noise when it comes into contact with fire of any kind. He said that it was powerful enough to topple empires!”
A wide smile crept across the Baron’s face as he listened to the Tlanzoman speak.
“Ah, it is as I suspected. You are describing gunpowder!”
Coyotl leaned forwards.
“You know about this Dwarven powder?”
“Of course, though it is not Dwarven in origin, that distinction lies with the Elves of the Ibarra swamp, if I'm not mistaken. I use it quite often. It is used in a weapon known as a gun, as well as bombs and artillery-uh a very large gun.”
Tlamacazqui smiled brightly.
“Will you teach me about this ‘gun’ you speak of?”
The Baron smiled brightly. It was exactly what he was hoping to hear.
“Of course! I would be happy to. If you provide me with something as well. I am sure you have knowledge we do not, and vice versa. I would like for us to learn from each other, on a large scale.”
Tlacochcalcatl tilted his head to the side.
“Vice Versa?”
“Oh, it’s a Brayherd saying, it means ‘the other way around’.”
“Brayherd?”
“Oh, yes. You most likely do not know of them. Tell me, have you ever seen a goat?”
Coyotl shook his head.
“No.”
The Baron sighed.
“Well then, I will just have to show you.”
He called over a servant and sent them to get Gaius.
“He should be here shortly. Now, as an academic, I would love to learn what your people have to offer. And I am sure that you feel the same way. I suggest that we create a Tlanzoman quarter. A center of Tlanzoman knowledge on this continent, if you will. Built for the enrichment of both of our people. We could even send some of our own scholars to your lands, perhaps just to figure out your language at first.”
Tlacochcalcatl nodded his head.
“This is a good idea. I like it! I will send word to Huey Tlatoani informing him of my mission’s success, and a request for scholars to come live here. Incidentally, do you happen to have a map of the world? My goal was to arrive wherever the sea decided I would end up, but I have no knowledge of lands outside the Tlanzoma Empire.”
The Baron gestured to a nearby maid.
“Of course. Could you please retrieve a map? And maybe my son if you come across him? Thank you, ma'am.”
The maid curtsied and walked off and the Baron had an idea to pass the time.
“Say, Tlacochcalcatl, would you like to see a gun? I can explain how it works.”
Tlacochcalcatl nodded his head emphatically.
“Of course!”
The Baron unholstered a pistol and set it on the table, opening up the flashpan and emptying the contents onto the table. He pointed to the powder as it was being emptied.
“That is for safety. This is known as a pistol. The smallest of all the firearms. You fill this, known as the flashpan, with black powder, and then cover it with the frizzen, this rough part here. Then, you pull back the hammer. The hammer has a small piece of flint on it, and when you pull the trigger here.”
The Baron pulled the trigger and the hammer fell, sparking against the frizzen.
“The flint produces a spark, and that lights the powder.”
Coyotl stared at it blankly. He was a noble, not a warrior, despite his imposing weapon, he had never seen black powder in action and thus had no preconceptions about how it was supposed to work.
“I fail to see how this is used as a weapon.”
“Don't worry, I’m getting to that. I showed you just one part of the weapon system. Before I show you the rest, I would be interested in learning about your weapon there.”
The Baron pointed at the saw paddle leaning against the table.
“I have scarcely seen anything like it!”
Though I do know what it is, I just can't remember the name of it!
Tlacochcalcatl immediately grabbed weapon and began speaking.
“This is known as the Macuahuitl, Maa-qwah-eetle. It is a club with obsidian blades set into the edge. We have enchanted it so that the obsidian never breaks, using a method involving the sacrifice of a prisoner, something which we must do anyway to stay the wrath of Huitzilopochtli. We have found that the Macuahuitl is more reliable and effective than the weapons the dwarven expeditionary parties use.”
Tlacochcalcatl took a butter knife and struck it against the obsidian, cutting it apart with little apparent difficulty.
“Their sharpened metal has nowhere near the cutting power of obsidian. Naturally, it is very sharp, but brittle. With the proper enchantments added, it becomes nigh unbreakable! A properly made Macuahuitl has been known to tear through the weapons and armor of those silly
dwarves with ease.”
My, so that’s why they’re still around. The weapons and armor the conquistadors used to destroy the Aztec Empire in my world are far less impressive when you introduce magic into the equation. Though, human sacrifice may prove to be a problem. Hopefully Montezuma learned his lesson and refrains from doing it too often.
“Thank you for the explanation. I prefer my steel, personally. Simply too used to it at this point. Obsidian has a reputation for sharpness, yes, but since we don't have the proper enchantment methods, we tend to view it as more of a very rare curiosity than a practical material for making weapons, though I imagine with your people's guidance our assessment of that will change somewhat.”
The Baron lifted up his gun so that Tlacochcalcatl could get a better look.
“Alright, onto the rest of my pistol. This part is known as the barrel. You fill the barrel with black powder, followed by a bullet and wadding.”
The Baron produced a bullet and wadding from a pouch at his side.
“You put these in and then ram it down into the barrel using the ramrod. After that, when the hammer strikes the frizzen and ignites the powder, a small channel allows that flame to enter the barrel, which ignites the powder in there as well. The powder explodes, sending the bullet flying far faster and with much more force than any bow is capable of. Many people in the Empire still use bows, but I have found that an entire regiment of guns does far more damage than any amount of bowmen.”
He tapped his breastplate.
“If you fire from close enough range, a bullet will tear straight through an unenchanted cuirass.”
Tlacochcalcatl looked contemplative.
“How widespread is this weapon?”
The Baron smiled smugly.
“Oh it’s everywhere. I carry at least six on my person at all times. I field just over 300 men armed with them, well far larger muskets and rifles. at the moment, working on getting more, in fact.”
As Tlacochcalcatl looked bewildered, impressed, and scared at the same time, Gaius entered the room.
“Baronis? I have heard you called for me.”
Tlacochcalcatl looked even more bewildered, and slightly more scared.
“You are large! You do not have the face of a man! Like a mammalian Kuetspalixtin!”
Gaius looked to Tlacochcalcatl, and then to the Baron.
“What is this strange man trying to say to me?”
The Baron gave him a bewildered smile.
“He has never seen a Brayherd before. He is simply a bit surprised.”
Gaius nodded his head.
“Ah. I see. I suppose it would be wery strange to see someone like me, if you have newer encountered anyone like me before. Wait, you can speak his language?”
“Gift from the gods.”
Gaius clicked his tongue.
This narrative has been purloined without the author's approval. Report any appearances on Amazon.
“Lucky bastardis.”
Tlacochcalcatl tore his eyes away from Gaius.
“What is it saying?”
The Baron frowned slightly.”
“What he, is saying is that he understands why you would react the way you have. He is just as intelligent as you or I, he just so happens to have the head and legs of a goat.”
Tlacochcalcatl was calming down, seeing how the Baron was describing Gaius so calmly to him, alongside Gaius’s fairly respectful posture and measured voice, made him realize that Gaius was not a monster.
“I rarely see something so…inhuman. Dwarves and Elves at least look like me, to an extent. And Kuetspalixtin are quite rare.”
What is a Kuetspalixtin? Not important, for now.
“You get used to it. Ah, here is my map.”
The Baron gratefully took the map from the servants hands and spread it out on the table.
It was a map of the world, though the entire western continent had only very vague labels and very rough lines denoting the coast, with things like ‘elves?’ and ‘dwarves?’ written with large blocky letters over vast swaths of territory, and almost the entire southern part of the continent was just a single question mark with a very very rough landmass sketched out. The Island chain that made up the Wa shogunate was well documented, though. The Baron pointed to Bickenstadt on the map.
‘You are currently here. Bickenstadt. A province in the Empire.”
The Baron pointed to the area with a large question mark.
“Since we have never even heard a small mention of you, I assume you come from here. Our cartographers have figured out the basic idea of the continents, using information from other countries, but we are largely ignorant of what is actually there.”
Tlacochcalcatl looked contemplative.
“The world is far larger than I knew.”
He fully bowed his head to the Baron.
“I look forward to our people’s cooperation and learning. I hope we can become friends, your people and mine. Also, please tell your 'Brayherd'…Gaius? That I apologize for gawking like a farmer boy.”
“Yes, even I am amazed at the sheer size of our world, and the sheer amount of new things to learn. Every time I have left the shores of my great country, I have found myself learning from everyone I meet. Oh, and it’s ok that you reacted like that. He’s used to it. Even if they're somewhat common here, many people still never get used to their presence. Gaius! My guest here, Tlacochcalcatl, apologizes for gawking at you. Also, you may leave should you wish to.”
Gaius bowed to Tlacochcalcatl and put his hand over his heart.
“I accept your apology. I will be off then. Jean has been wanting to paint me.”
The Baron chuffed and smiled bewilderedly.
“Really? Paint you?”
Gaius nodded his head, face completely deadpan, as usual.
“Etiam. See you when I am needed again, Baronis.”
Gaius left fairly quickly, and the Baron turned back to Tlacochcalcatl.
“Now that I think about it, can you actually get back to your homeland?”
Coyotl smiled.
“I am unsure. The sailors have told me that we arrived here more by luck than navigation.”
“Excellent. Alright then, we will work together to pinpoint where you are to sail to, and perhaps I will send along some of my men to help you navigate. We would need to work on translation, though. I cannot come with, I have much to attend to.”
Tlacochcalcatl bowed his head gratefully.
“I thank you, Baron von Bickenstadt. Now, before we discuss getting home, I feel we should discuss the details of this so-called Tlanzoman quarter…”
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Wolfgang, as usual, was stuck figuring out the logistics of the things the Baron promised without consulting him.
Creating housing was easy enough, but this was going to essentially be a diplomatic quarter, so he needed it to be perfect. Jean was a great help, but without any information as to what their architecture looks like, he had to make Imperial style housing for people completely unfamiliar with the Empire. It was very possible this could turn into a diplomatic nightmare.
“I doubt they’d even be useful for our revolt…why would he invite strangers to live in our city without even consulting me? What if they end up liking the Empress more?”
Wolfgang said out loud to no one in particular.
As much as he hated his father’s arbitrary decision making, he had to begrudgingly admit that it turned out pretty well most of the time, if only because Wolfgang forced it to work out. As Wolfgang filled out official paperwork which would begin construction on the diplomatic housing, the Baron quickly opened the door to his study, standing in the threshold.
“I’m not going to bother you too much, just letting you know Tlacochcalcatl has finally departed. We estimated it would take him around six months to sail home, get the permission of his king, gather the personnel, and then sail back here. So…you have plenty of time.”
The Baron turned to leave, then looked back at Wolfgang.
“Oh, also, I don’t plan on involving them in our plans unless they, for some reason, ask to assist us out of their own volition, so don’t worry too much about that. After you finish the paperwork for the building though, I do plan on starting a 'diplomatic' mission to the Assai’id soon, so we'll have to figure that out. Goodbye.”
The Baron shut the door, leaving Wolfgang alone to resist the urge to kill his father with his bare hands on his lonesome.
Chapter 12
A few weeks after Tlacochcalcatl left for his homeland, the Baron was called to Grössenburg for a Conference of the Barons, which was generally only called when the leader of the barons, the emperor or empress, wished to stop a certain baron from doing something.
This conference was created by the Empress’s father, the Iron Emperor, for some reason. He never actually explained his reasonings, and all the meetings really did was take power away from the crown. People have even been questioning his moniker, the Iron Emperor, as of late because he seemed to allow dissent within the Empire to a much larger degree than his predecessors. However, the Baron remembered how he earned the title: By destroying his enemies in Holenstadt, and brutally repressing any dissent within that province. He believed that internal discourse was necessary, but he saw the Holenstadters are a foreign threat to be cowed.
At present, there were seven Barons across nine provinces, as the Baron von Bickenstadt had control of Bickenstadt and Holenstadt, and the Empress had control of Grossenstadt and Leibenstadt. The Empress stood and spoke to the barons.
“I have called you all here on matters of theology.”
The barons all mumbled to themselves and each other. The first to make his thought's known was Ingo von Waffenstadt.
He was a large man, both in height and in weight. He wore classic landsknechts clothing, popular amongst the older or more conservative nobles of the Empire, colored largely in grays and browns, the colors of Waffenstadt. On his head he wore a Tudor hat, black with white trimming, with a pale burgundy feather stuck in it. He sported a thick and bushy, salt and pepper beard and piercing blue eyes. The top of his head was completely bald, thus the Tudor hat. Incidentally, he was also the Baron's stepbrother, whom he hadn't seen in nearly three decades after Sabine died.
“Why do I care what’s done about religion? I'm a baron, not a priest of the Imperial Cult.”
The Empress slammed her fist on the table, shouting at Ingo.
“You care because religion is the foundation of the Empire! It keeps our people united under one banner! We cannot just allow subversive religions to undo all of our progress!”
After another round of grumbling amongst each other, another baron voiced his opinion, an older gentleman obviously used to rough life outdoors.
“Well, religion does not factor into my daily life too much. Don't have time to pray when I'm busy with keeping your army in shape.”
Klaus von Jagstadt commented dryly. He wore a black bear fur coat, rough cut, reaching down to his knees. On his head was a black stocking cap. His face was tanned and leathery, and he had a long, wild, black beard, as well as bright blue eyes. At his hip was a simple hatchet and a large belt knife. Overall, he did not look the part of baron.
After a few seconds, a younger voice cut through the silence.
“How can you even call yourself an Empiresman if you don’t pray?”
Commented Stefan von Ebenenstadt. He also wore classic landsknechts clothing, dyed in various different colors, a sign that he did not personally control his province’s military. He was clean shaven, slightly baby faced, and had young, hope-filled blue eyes. His black hair was slicked back using a pomade, a style popular amongst the younger nobles of the Empire. Soon after he was joined by a far older voice.
“I agree! Where do you receive your values?! From a book? We receive our from the gods, who, I remind you, we have seen before, and are willing to meddle in mortal affairs, unlike the Christian's 'almighty god'!”
Emphatically yelled Hans von Weinstadt. He, again, wore classic landsknechts clothes, also dyed in various different colors. He had an obvious gut, most likely from all the wine and beer his province produced. He was balding, his gray hair combed over in an attempt to ameliorate slightly the bare top of his head. His eyes were blue, just like the rest of the ethnic Imperial nobility. A grizzled voice cooly responded before Hans could continue his rant.
“Religion is important to me. Which is why we are all here, I imagine. And Hans, do the gods tell you directly what values to have? Or did you read it in a book? Like the Imperial tomes?”
Johan von Bickenstadt commented, looking slightly smug. Hans audibly scoffed, as did the Empress. Ingo and Klaus also scoffed, but likely for a different reason than the first two. Ingo leaned forward, his chair creaking slightly.
“Ma’am I understand that you feel religion is important. But I don’t care. Let the Baron have his damned Christian church so I can leave. Why should I care about a Christian church being erected when I have firearms to manufacture?”
Klaus nodded his head at that.
“Exactly. Why is it my business what gods others follow, so long as they're competent?”
The Empress glared at Klaus angrily.
“Because Christianity is dangerous for the stability of the Empire. We do not need pacifists weakening our country!”
The Baron tapped the hilt of his saber.
“I am far from a pacifist, I’ll have you know. The other world, the origin of Christianity, is full of proud Christian warriors. Countless over the course of 1000 years, in fact.”
The Empress scoffed again, sitting back in her chair and crossing one leg over the other.
“Christian warrior. An oxymoron if ever there was one.”
The Baron threw up his arms dramatically.
“That’s what they keep telling me. And as I've been saying strangely often as of late, my record speaks for itself.”
Hans pointed a finger at the Baron.
“Who cares if you believe in a ‘militant sect’ of Christianity! Christianity itself goes against Imperial values! All men created equal under the eyes of God? What a farce!”
Stefan shrugged his shoulder indignantly, barely even raising his voice as he spoke, exasperated.
“‘All men are created equal under god.’ What’s next, all races are equal? Do you believe the degenerate elves have even a modicum of moral worth? Oh wait, of course you do! You have one on payroll!”
The Baron scoffed.
“Who I work with is of no consequence to you. And I’ll have you know his engineering ability is far greater than any man I have ever met. A hundred years of experience will teach you quite a bit, you’d be a fool to ignore it.”
Hans laughed and slapped the table.
“A degenerate?! Doing complex work?! You must be going mad in your old age!”
The Baron reached over the table and gently tipped over Hans’s drink, smirking as he spoke.
“You can call me old when you can outrun me.”
Hans righted his glass.
“So, not only are you going insane, but you’re a brute as well! How excellent.”
Before Hans could escalate to a full fledged shouting match, Ingo spoke up, a hint of annoyance clear in his voice.
“Gentlemen, stop this petty nonsense. There is nothing to discuss. Let’s just vote so I can leave.”
The Empress looked at Ingo suspiciously.
“Why are you in such a hurry to leave? Do you have something planned?”
Ingo looked at the Empress like she was an imbecile, something which could’ve been grounds for removal before her father created the Council of Barons.
“Yes, producing firearms. For you. Though I mostly just wish to be free of this idiocy. Leave religion to the priests. I am a baron as well as the overseer of all industry in Rauchburg, I have better things to do.”
Klaus crossed his arms and nodded as Ingo spoke. The Empress pinched the bridge of her nose.
“This is maddening. Why would my father create this system?”
The Baron smiled a very smarmy smile.
“To protect people like me from people like you. Good for internal stability. Prevents disagreements from turning to wars. Your father really knew what he was doing, what a great man!”
The Empress looked furious for a moment, but soon calmed down, a small smile creeping over her face.
“Fine then, Ingo, Klaus, if you two are so interested in leaving, then will you vote yes to forcing Johan here to scrap his church and continue persecuting christians?”
Ingo looked to Klaus, who smiled mischievously. Ingo smiled back and turned to the Empress.
“No.”
The Empress tilted her head towards Klaus.
“No?”
“You are annoying us, I have decided it is more fun to ruin your plans.”
The Empress’s face turned red with rage. She turned to the one man who had not spoken, the 30 year old Gunter von Barien.
“You! Why have you yet to speak?”
Gunter blinked blearily at the Empress
“Because I see no need.”
The Empress calmed herself, speaking in a cold, steady voice.
“What exactly is that supposed to mean?”
Gunter looked at the Empress, his eyes cold, dead, and sleepy. His skin was pale and blemishless, and he wore landsknecht’s clothes, similar to Hans’s.
“I believe that was quite clear.”
The Empress balled her fists. The Baron stifled a laugh.
“Your loyalty to the Empire is in question! Why would you refuse to do what’s best for the Empire and her people?!”
Gunter slowly closed his eyes and opened them again. He looked tired.
“If you had held this meeting in the evening I would have voted yes.”
The Empress’s face further reddened. Nothing pissed her off more than unruly aristocrats, especially unruly aristocrats she couldn’t simply purge.
“How selfish!”
Hans slammed his fist against the table.
“How crass! How stupid! You’re a baron, Gunter! Act like one!”
Gunter slowly faced Hans, his expression tired and unreadable.
“My vote is no.”
The Baron finally couldn’t contain his laughter, almost crying as he doubled over, howling all the while. Ingo followed so after, roaring with laughter. Klaus just looked satisfied with himself.
The Empress’s hand started to drift towards her waist, and Stefan, sensing the end of the Empire swiftly approaching, decided that he, the youngest person present, would have to be the voice of reason. Or maybe just something distracting enough to prevent them from killing each other.
“Wait! What…what if we have a spiritual advisor? He just needs to be there to advise you as to the wants of your religious populace and to make sure you treat everyone fairly! Wouldn't want for your newfound faith to hurt those who you have sworn to protect and serve, would you, Baron?”
The room was dead silent. Ingo leaned back in his chair. He realized he had gone too far, as did Klaus, though they did not regret a single thing they had said today. The Baron still didn’t care. Ingo cleared his throat and spoke.
“Fine. I vote no for the Empress’s solution, yes to Stefans. We’re all Empiresmen here. I know I started the shit flinging in the first place, but nothing good can come out of us quarreling.”
Klaus nodded, fiddling with a carving of a bear the size of a peanut.
“I agree, and I vote the same. I’m sorry for antagonizing you, Empress. Aside from this issue and this alone, you know where my loyalties lie.”
Hans ran his hand over his mostly bald head.
“I vote yes to both solutions.”
The Empress sat back in her chair, a defeated look on her face.
“My Empire is filled with dysfunctional children. You all know my vote.”
The Baron sat back in his chair and crossed his arms.
“You know mine as well.”
All eyes fell on Gunter.
“No, yes.”
After a few seconds the Empress sighed heavily.
“So, the Baron gets to keep his gods forsaken Christian church, and I get to send a religious advisor to everyone. Great. Baron, know that you will pay for this, and that Christianity is still banned in at least three provinces.”
“I’ll accept that. If they wish to practice they can just come to me. Gives me more labor to work with. A big tent strategy is what the Empire was founded on, afterall. Uniting those of us with similar goals against a foreign foe. Unlike you, I prefer to trap flies with honey, not vinegar.”
Ingo and Klaus quickly got up and left without saying a word, followed closely by Gunter. The Baron stood up and smiled as he left, glad to know that the Empress was less popular amongst the barons than he thought.
Well, either that, or the Empire really is just more dysfunctional than I thought.
The Baron could feel the Empress’s eyes boring into his back as he left, and he savored the feeling of her hatred. Her fury would fuel the future spiteful actions he would take against her.
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A week after the meeting of the barons, the religious advisor arrived in Bickenstadt. The Baron had called all of his lieutenants to meet him.
“Glorious day to…most of you. I am Adolf Eiferer, priest of the Imperial Cult. I have been sent here to make sure the Baron treats the Imperial Cult with the respect it deserves, as well as offering counsel for whoever requires it.”
Adolf wore black monks robes, a necklace of a hand with its pointer finger up, the symbol of the Empire, hanging around his neck. On his face he sported a thick black beard. Around his head and neck he wore a pitch black cowl, and on his head was a black kamelaukion. He carried a large book of scripture bound in leather and covered in enchanted steel. At his waist was a simple one handed warhammer.
“Men, I ask that you treat him…well. And Adolf, I give you my word, I will treat those of any religion equally. As an Empiresman it would be appalling to me to treat followers of the Imperial Cult poorly. Even if I am a Christian, I still believe that our own traditional faith is the foundation which keeps the Empire together.”
The Baron said, smiling smugly at that last bit. Adolf addressed the Baron, his face expressionless.
“That remains to be seen. If you treat those of the Imperial Cult poorly, you will be legally arrested.”
“Is that legal? I am a baron, afterall, the Baron, infact. The laws of the Empire are oftentimes complex and contradictory.”
Adolf stared at the Baron unblinkingly.
“Of course it’s legal. The Imperial Cult is the official religion of the Empire. And our position on nonhumans is, I believe, very clear.”
The Baron looked down at Adolf, contempt written all over his face.
“Be that as it may, we are at war with the elves, and yet one remains in my inner circle, unaccosted by Imperial judges. Adolf, I intend to treat you with all the respect a man of your station deserves, but if you do anything to Jean or Gaius, you will be sent back to Grössenstadt in a box. Maybe multiple.”
Adolf continued staring unblinkingly. His face never portrayed any emotion.
“How very Christian of you.”
The Baron barely resisted the urge to spit at Adolf’s feet. He did not even attempt to hide the displeasure on his face, or in his voice.
“Clever. Many people keep saying this to me. Your quarters are on the south-eastern wing of castle Bickenstadt, a servant will guide you there. If you have any governing suggestions send them to my son. Don't bring your nonse- ahem, concerns, to me unless absolutely necessary. And of course if you see religious discrimination you may stop it at once-just don't kill anyone. Goodbye. I imagine it will be fun working with you.”
The Baron stormed off, leaving his lieutenants dumbfounded. They had never seen him so angry before. Adolf turned towards the lieutenants, still stone faced and unblinking.
“If any of you ever need religious counsel, even you, elf, do not hesitate to contact me. I will do whatever I can. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have afternoon prayers.”
Adolf walked off towards the southeastern wing, closely followed by a servant desperately trying to get in front so she could lead. Fergus turned towards Jean as soon as Adolf was out of earshot.
“If ‘e ever fucks with ya, ‘e will be down a few fingers.”
Jean raised his hands placatingly.
“Please, please. Do not disfigure someone for my sake. Even the most fanatical Empiresman would ‘esitate to attack me while I am under the Baron’s employ.”
Ludwin looked worried.
“I am not so sure. The Empress would not send us just any priest. There has to be something special about that man, I can feel it in my bones.”
Jean stared down the hallway Adolf left in, his eyes furiously trying to focus on the darkness that enveloped Adolf as soon as he was far enough.
“That remains to be seen…”
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Wolfgang was speed walking down the hallway, in the direction of his father’s study. Coincidentally, his father happened to be doing the same thing, in the direction of Wolfgang. They almost ran into each other, just barely managing to dodge out of each other’s way as they turned the corner.
“Wolfgang! I have something to talk to you about!”
“Is it about that monk?”
“Exactly! How did you know?”
“I was actually coming to talk to you about him as well.”
The Baron smiled.
“Let me guess. Some of your papers were out of place.”
“Exactly. Though, I can’t imagine how you would be able to tell in that mess.”
The Baron crossed his arms defensively.
“It’s not a mess! It’s exactly how I want it to be! I know where everything is at all times!”
“Whatever-that part is not important. What is important is that Adolf may be a spy.”
The Baron’s face scrunched up.
“Of course he’s a spy? The Empress wouldn’t just send any old priest over here.”
“Well yes, he’s obviously a spy. I just did not think he would be going through our offices after just a week of staying here. And I thought he may have been better than this.”
The Baron breathed a sigh of relief.
“Oh thank God you also know he’s a spy. Ok then, I’m going to kill him.”
As the Baron turned to leave, Wolfgang grabbed his arm.
“Father, with all due respect, no. That is incredibly stupid. A couple of papers out of place is not enough to act on. We need to wait and see, and even if we catch him red handed, killing him will lead to bad outcomes.”
The Baron quickly scanned their surroundings. He trusted his instincts on this, there was no one nearby.
“But what if he discovers our secrets?”
“I doubt he will be able to piece everything together from just the papers in our office. That is not where we keep everything. Wait, it better not be where you keep everything.”
The Baron waved his hand dismissively.
“Of course not! It’s all in the inn, with my guest. At least all the really incriminating things.”
Wolfgang scruffed his chin in thought.
“Well…I suggest you leave some things for him to find. Smaller things, like perhaps some note hinting towards your proprietorship over pirates? Finding some wrongdoing is less suspicious than none.”
“I suppose that’s fair enough. I’ll leave out some documents about the pirates then, something about tribute.”
“Yes, that is wise. I should forge something. Something about embezzlement. Oh, also, we can't just assume that he is stupid. The Empress doesn't send agents on missions like this that she doesn't trust. It is possible that he left evidence of sloppy work on purpose. Be careful, probably more careful than usual.”
“Not a bad idea, all on fronts. I agree, you should get on that, and I should do the same. About him not being an idiot...well, I suppose we'll have to wait and see, won't we?”
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In the middle of the night, a black figure slipped out of castle Bickenstadt. He made sure he was not trailed, but made no attempt to hide his identity. It was Adolf Eiferer, stalking through the streets of Bickenstadt. As he entered a particularly dark alley, he stopped. A dagger was pressed against the small of his back.
“Have you been followed?”
The voice was deep, grizzled, and slightly world weary. Adolf answered without looking back
.
“Of course I have, the gods would never allow their servant to wander the Earth alone.”
The figure removed the knife and walked past Adolf, gesturing to a wooden box for him to sit on. The man had on clothing worn generally by the younger, less conservative nobles of the Empire, though far more colorful and eccentric than most, and he was no young man.
He wore a red velvet waistcoat over a white button up with large lacy cuffs. His simple deep brown pants were tucked into his white knee high boots with black heel and sole and golden buckles. Over his shoulders was a dark green hoodless cloak ending at his knees. On his head was a matching dark green muffin tudor cap, and hanging out from under that was his slicked back, graying, shoulder length hair.
On his face he sported a neatly cropped graying royale style beard. All and all, the outfit of a man who was very well versed in fashion and had quite a bit of disposable income. He sat on a wooden crate across from Adolf and produced a watch from his breast pocket.
“We have plenty of time before I need to head back. Tell me, after two weeks of living in Bickenstadt, have you discovered anything?”
Adolf tentatively nodded his head.
“I have discovered a few things. It looks like the Baron may be receiving tribute from pirates, and his son may be embezzling funds, though I have not found solid proof.”
The man twirled his mustache.
“That seems too pedestrian for men of their power. There has to be more.”
Adolf nodded his head. He had yet to blink.
“I agree. I found those papers too easily. I believe that they may be decoys.”
“I agree to an extent. They would have no need to embezzle funds, their revenue is the greatest in the Empire after all, and if they were, their social spending would most likely slow down. However, the idea that the Baron is working with pirates is not too far out there. I have noticed a distinct lack of Bickenstadt ships being attacked in reports.”
Adolf nodded his head.
“That does make sense. Should that be our assumption moving forward?”
The man took out a pipe and began to fill it with tobacco.
“Yes. If you find any more documents about embezzlement, assume they are made to throw you off his trail. Have you found anything else? Anything which would point to, say, high treason?”
“I believe I have found…something. In both of their studies, I found documents which stated that they ‘needed’ to become friendly with Caprae Loco, Orcland, the Assai’id, and Waffenstadt. That word ‘need’ had made me suspicious. Why that word specifically? Very odd.”
The man packed the tobacco tighter with his pinky finger.
“I have trained you well. That wording does seem to imply that they wish for more than simple trade relations. Why would a stable economy ‘need’ so many new sources of income? Possibly building allies? Ingo von Waffenstadt was always at most okay with his position in the Empire.”
The man chuckled.
“Him and the Empress have been butting heads for a while now, so it would make sense to get on his good side if you were to, say, plan on working against the Empire in some large scale fashion. Keep an eye out for anything suspicious regarding diplomatic missions to other countries, and to Waffenstadt apparently. I will have to make contact with our man in Ingo’s castle, possibly send more. Make sure not to be found snooping, those faked documents by the Baron’s son make me nervous, be more cautious than you normally would be. If they become overtly suspicious, you are to discontinue any subterfuge activity until further notice. Understood?”
Adolf bowed his head.
“Yes sir.”
The man’s eyes began to glow bright red and he snapped his fingers, producing a small flame which he used to light his pipe. He took a long drag, sighing contentedly as he blew smoke out his nostrils.
“Am I free to go sir? I have yet to perform my nightly prayers.”
The man pushed on his knees to stand up, taking another drag out of his pipe before responding, blowing it in Adolf's direction.
“Of course. Oh, before I forget. If the Baron brings his company somewhere, say, the Assai’id, do make sure to go with him, if you can. Stress the fact that you are, in fact, a warrior monk.”
Adolf nodded his head. Even with the smoke in his eyes, he had yet to blink.
“Of course. I will be going now. May Frau Abhilfe keep you in good health.”
The man chuckled as he blew out more smoke.
“Thank you, but I doubt she will if I keep sucking on this stuff. I've noticed a very troubling trend in our medical records regarding tobacco, though that's really neither here nor there. Meet back here in one month’s time. I will be heading to Waffenstadt now, to connect with my man there. Oh, by the way. Don’t be surprised should the Baron receive, how do I say this? A kick to the teeth? Yes, sure. A kick to the teeth. Stand back, but assist if your inaction would look suspicious. I am fully ok with you working to 'root out spies' should you need to. The Baron won't buy it, and neither will his son, but what's important is keeping up the appearance. Makes it harder to justify killing you outright.”
Adolf kissed his hand necklace and left the alleyway without saying a word. The man chuckled as he left through the other side, tapping his pipe against the wall to knock out the ash.
“He really doesn’t blink.”