Chapter 1
A deep, loud, and flamboyant voice echoed through the square.
“Men of Rauchburg! Present your arms to your adoring crowd!”
The Rauchburg Honor Guard raised their rifles in front of them, showing them off to the crowd, who roared In approval. The light red stocks of the guns complimented their uniforms, an extravagant cuirass on their chests, gray breeches on their legs, burgundy collared shirts under their cuirasses, and a black beret on their heads. A very unusual uniform for an Imperial regiment.
“Rifles up! Present your arms to your ancestors!”
The Rauchburg Honor Guard raised and aimed their rifles in the air, each gun at a 45 degree angle.
“Now, men of Rauchburg, present the strength of Waffenstadt to all around! FIRE!”
CRACK! The sound of a company of soldiers firing at once shook the ground and could be heard from miles around.
"Rifles down men! And make sure to wave to the crowd!"
The Honor Guard did as instructed, holding their rifles by the barrel and setting them down butt on the ground before raising their arms and waving at the crowd. People cheered and chanted, the roar of the crowd almost as loud as the guns they had come to witness.
"Now! Honor Guard of Rauchburg! Go do as guards are meant to do! Protect our honored guests from all who oppose them!"
The crowd reached a fever pitch as the guards ran to surround their guests: The Baron von Bickenstadt and his caravan. They formed a half circle around them, leaving open the path towards the heart of Rauchburg, The Great Foundry, a combined palace and industrial site.
"Now! Escort our honored guests to the grand feast! The crowd is, of course, welcome to attend! For the riches of Waffenstadt are to be shared amongst all!"
The Rauchburg Honor Guard began to move forward, the Baron's caravan following soon after. The crowd roared with approval and surged forward, somehow reaching an even higher volume than before.
The man leading the ceremony, Ingo von Waffenstadt, rode over to the Baron's carriage, dismounting his horse and entering, sitting leaned forward across from the Baron. He looked somewhat angry.
"Johan, how good of you to finally visit. What's it been, a few decades? That's no way to treat your brother in law!”
The Baron smiled sheepishly.
“Well, I was a tad busy.”
Ingo scoffed.
“Busy? Busy? Unbelievable. You're lucky I even gave you a ceremony."
“Which I enjoyed quite a bit, by the way. Does it have a name?”
“The 120 Gun Salute, but you’re not going to avoid answering my questions. Why didn’t you visit at all? Not even for the tenth year anniversary of her death. Have you even left flowers on her grave?”
The Baron stared at his feet, leaning on his knees.
“I have…no excuse. I am here for various reasons, but one of them is to apologize, and make amends. To perhaps reopen the relationship a bit."
Ingo sat back stared at the Baron, arms folded, unimpressed.
"Right. Well that remains to be seen. After our feast, the first thing I want to do with you, as brothers, is to visit Sabine's grave.”
His expression softened considerably, and though he was obviously still angry, concern was written across his face.
“As much as I'm angry at you for not visiting, I recognize that the way you chose to cope with her death was not healthy. You need proper closure. Hopefully after that, we can have a proper relationship. Family and business!"
The Baron smiled warmly.
"Wow, didn't know you were so good about mental health. You wouldn't happen to be a progressive, would you?"
Ingo waved his hand dismissively.
"I wouldn't call myself a progressive, I just understand that having poor mental health ruins your workflow. It's an idea brought by the otherworlders, and my gods are they right about that! Our efficiency is through the roof!"
"Very true! My mental health being poor is the reason my son might as well be Baron von Bickenstadt. I only haven't given him the title because everyone calls me 'Baron'."
"I have been wondering about that. Good to know. Now, lets leave the hard emotional nonsense for after our feast. The workers will likely try to get you into a drinking game, and it’d be unwise to deny them!"
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“Give ‘im the Rauchburg special!”
“Yeah! Give it to ‘em! See if he’s just some weak aristocrat!”
The Baron was surrounded on all sides by the workers of Rauchburg, all various levels of intoxicated, and all having a great time partying with the Baron.
He was very pleased with this, reasoning that people would only treat him like this if they weren’t scared of the aristocracy.
Though, I am a bit worried about what that ‘Rauchburg Special’ is.
“I’ll drink anything you give me! I’m a soldier first and foremost, I know how to hold my liquor!”
The drunken crowd roared with approval, their celebrations intensified when a blacksmith arrived, a glass jar filled with a gray liquid raised high above his head. He set it down in front of the Baron proudly, chest puffed out. The Baron’s eye twitched as he looked at the mystery liquid he was about to consume.
“May I at least ask what’s in this?”
The blacksmith laughed, as did the crowd.
“You can find out after you down it! All I'll say now is that it’s pretty boozy!”
Well, I suppose there are worse ways to die than in front of an adoring crowd! Still…
“Any chaser perhaps?”
The people of Rauchburg responded with a deafening laugh.
“Alright, fine! I’m the God damned Baron von Bickenstadt! I'm not gonna die from some measly drink!”
The crowd continued to roar as the Baron grabbed the drink confidently.
Our Father, who art in heaven, hallowed be thy name.
The Baron took in a deep breath, quickly blowing it out as he went to chug. As soon as the liquid touched the inside of his mouth he realized with horror just how drunk he was going to be. However, he did not hesitate. The crowd’s cheers reached a fever pitch, turning into pure screams of triumph. In just 2 seconds the Baron had chugged the entire glass, and he was already beginning to feel the effects.
“W-what was in it?”
The blacksmith leaned in, grinning ear to ear.
“It’s 95% alcohol by volume vodka! A recipe given to us by the Holenstadters when Ingo won a drinking game with the previous baron, mixed with soot from the factories! Ingo’s own drink, to prove the hardiness of Rauchburgers!”
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The Baron’s whole world was a blinding white light, and a throbbing headache.
“Jesus H. Christ, have I died?”
He heard the unmistakable sound of glass on wood nearby, as well as the smooth, deadpan voice of Helmut Freier.
“No, sir. You are severely hungover, I believe. Drink some water.”
Helmut closed the curtains and suddenly the Baron could see and think again. He sat up in his bed, a mistake to be sure, guessing by his headache, but he needed to get up and about. He had quite a bit to do. He grasped the glass after missing a few times and frantically brought it to his lips.
“Oh my God this is the best water I’ve ever had in my life.”
“Are you not supposed to do that?”
The Baron squinted at Helmut, half seeing him, half looking in the direction of the sound.
“Do what?”
“Well sir, it was my understanding that Christians were not supposed to take the God of the Heaven's name in vain.”
The Baron rubbed his eyes. They hurt like hell.
“It’s a denominational thing how seriously you take that. Also he is not the god of the heavens, he resides in heaven, and everywhere else. He is our father, in heaven, his kingdom. He’s the god of everything. It’s kind of hard to explain to people used to pantheons. I believe in God above all. Christianity is monotheistic, though the idea of adopting such a thing is a tad complicated in this world compared to theirs.”
“Monotheistic? I thought Christianity had three gods?”
The Baron summoned up the effort to stand, moving over to a dresser to put on his clothes, which had thankfully been brought to his room without his asking.
“Nope, not getting into that. It’s extremely convoluted, and the history of the other world is filled with people killing each other over debates about it. I believe the exact term for it is something like Homoousion, or something like that, meaning 'of one', or, 'of the same' substance.”
The Baron shrugged.
“Something like that-I dunno-I'm not a priest. Just know that Christains believe in the Trinity, at least I do, and that the Trinity is the idea of three different gods in one god, like I said, Homoousion. The son, the father, and the holy spirit, all different aspects of the same god, though separate. That’s the best way I can put it without getting too deep into the theology of it all, we don't tend to expect people to get it very quickly. Or at all.”
Helmut leaned against the windowsill and checked outside briefly.
It was filled with people walking around and materials being transported in various different carts. Nothing overtly suspicious. He had been told to be extra vigilant during this trip. The Empress seemed to be committing more resources to stopping the Baron as of late.
“Well, I suppose that is fine. I am not particularly interested in becoming a Christian. The way I see it is that we have no evidence of your god, and plenty for ours.”
The Baron strapped on his saber and a few holsters.
“Yes, well, as with everything else, it’s complicated. I have faith in Jesus Christ, his sacrifice, and the Christian idea of an afterlife, living eternally in the kingdom of heaven, and that’s good enough for me. Anyway, is there an itinerary for today?”
Helmut got up and took an envelope out of his pocket.
“Yes sir, right here.”
The Baron raised an eyebrow as he took the envelope.
“What’s with the sirs? Everyone else of your rank refers to me as Baron. I feel like you usually do as well?”
“Does it bother you? Do you wish for me to refer to you as Baron like usual?”
The Baron shrugged.
“Well, it doesn’t bother me either way. Just thought it was strange. Do as you please.”
The Baron skimmed over the itinerary and then glanced at a nearby clock.
“Oh shit, we’ve gotta leave now or we’ll miss breakfast! Thank God Ingo summered in Bvarien province for decades, man doesn’t plan anything before noon. Think he'll even be there?”
"Honestly, I doubt it. He drank two 'Rauchburg specials' after you passed out. He may not be appearing in public today."
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“Yes, well, 30 years of mercenary work will do that to you!”
The table laughed at the Baron’s excellent joke.
It was a far more subdued laugh than he was used to being surrounded by soldiers and commoners all the time. He was currently dining with the rich and powerful of Rauchburg, the aristocracy and merchants who ran the city. People of his social class, or nearing it.
In recent years, there had been an influx of powerful merchants at these balls and galas. Ever since the introduction of the factory line to the nation, and the free labor from enslaved elves depending on the province, some merchants had begun to equal or even surpass great noble houses in wealth, eventually earning the backhanded ‘Neu-Reich’, or ‘New rich’. .
The Baron preferred the common folk to the stuffy nobles and the trying-too-hard Neu-Reich, but the Baron was a showman at heart. He was always happy to have a crowd to entertain. However, there was something more important than the Baron had realized before now: He was surrounded by rich and powerful people who hung on his every word.
Perfect place to spread my agenda.
“Aside from the strange ailments that come with it, years of traveling and fighting in other countries has given me quite a bit to think about. You get to meet so many different people, get access to so much more information, ways of thinking, everything. I personally believe that everyone should spend time abroad if they can afford it.”
The Baron sipped his wine, an overly sweet white wine from some Weinstadt nobility.
“I believe it would broaden their horizons, and they could bring that knowledge back home to benefit us. It’s good for the soul, as well as the state. You must be careful, though, to not adopt the wrong ideas. There are plenty out there who care only about power and not about people. Those men are all sad and unpleasant to be around, I assure you, and if you listen to their babble it will make you miserable as well!”
The group of nobles and affluent merchants began murmuring to each other, mostly about how right they think the Baron is. Whether this was just ass kissing or they actually agreed with him, he would most likely never know. And he didn’t particularly care. He only really needed the support of a few of them.
One of the noblemen set his wine glass down and directly addressed the Baron. He was wearing a very nice three piece suit, black coat over white shirt, with various jewelry adorning his body. His hair was graying and slicked back, a fairly new and trendy style for an older gentleman.
"Yes, I completely agree. I spent a few semesters of my time at the University of Grössenburg down in the Assai'id confederation, specifically with those Ottomans. Beautiful architecture and incredible food, a genuinely interesting people. Anyway, Baron, I have a little…hypothetical for you."
The Baron raised an eyebrow.
This better not be crazy racist. The nobility here seem to act like 19th century aristocrats, basically schizoid racists as far as I'm concerned.
"Oh? I would be glad to hear it, though I do not promise my answer will satisfy everyone."
The man spoke, his voice far quieter than before.
"Alright, so, If you could visit the land of elves in an official capacity, do you think you would push to continue or suspend our war?”
The Baron whistled.
“My, how brave, a brief foray into the ‘Elven Question’. It’s bold, I like it.”
The man smiled.
“Apologies, for asking something so controversial, however, I figured that as a statesman you have an opinion on this, and it's not every day you get to speak to such a powerful man. I want to get an idea of the direction the Empire is heading in and where you stand. Oh, and if you could visit in an…unofficial capacity, say, as a tourist, would you?"
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Well, that’s an interesting question. And not inherently racist! He's giving me an excuse to soapbox about racial equality and abolition, what a nice man!
The entire table went quiet. All eyes were on the Baron. The prospect of de-escalation was something not often talked about in mainstream Imperial politics, especially amongst the upper crust, but when it was it often came with accusations of disloyalty to the Empire and ended in fist fights. Many of the rich and powerful in the Empire would lose out on vital income provided by elven slaves, and many of them were, quite frankly, too racist to even consider it. The Baron took in a deep breath before answering.
“For me, if I could decide our foreign policy, I would without hesitation end this ridiculous 'cold war', to use an otherworlder phrase, we have going on. We declared a blanket declaration of war against ‘the elves’ and all it has led to is slave patrols kidnapping people from their shores and the complete loss of trade on that entire continent, as well as the deaths of Imperial sailors when they stray too close to their lands. There have been no territorial gains, no resource gains, no benefit to the state, only to those subhuman mongrels that deal in slaves.”
The Baron paused to sip his wine. The room was dead silent, and a few shifted and fidgeted around in their seats.
Good. Feel uncomfortable.
“I am unsure if I have made my opinion on elves public, so I will state it here in no uncertain terms. You all are welcome, no, encouraged to make it known. The elves are not degenerates looking to destroy humanity, that is simply nonsense. The only degenerates looking to destroy a race of people are those among us that continue to push for war and slavery. Elves are people, just like you and me. The upper crust of elven society has more in common with all of you than it does with the lower class elves, and vice versa. It is my belief that the Empire’s stance on elves is misguide…"
The Baron paused for a moment. All eyes were on him now, including those from other tables. The room was full of murmurs until the Baron spoke again.
"No. I am tired of mincing words and stating half truths. Quite frankly, I believe that the Empire's stance on war with the elves, and elves in general, is based on nothing more than blind hatred for anything different than themselves and their childish, dogmatic belief in the zero-sum theory of international politics. It is short sighted and ghoulish, the only gain we get from it is the income from slaves, which do not go to the state or the people, but to the slavers. We would make far more in revenue were we to simply open up trade with them."
The room was full of the sound of hushed whispers, alongside a few boos and whoops of agreement.
The Baron retrieved a small notebook from his breast pocket, along with a pencil. As he spoke, he drew illustrations and wrote out math to emphasize his points to the table.
"There are many reasons I do not allow slavery within the borders of Bickenstadt and Holenstadt, aside from the moral ones. Crossing the open ocean to capture people is expensive and not worth the trouble. Not only is sailing to another continent simply an expressive process, but it also runs the risk of losing ships, which is a further expense that we simply do not need to risk.”
The Baron tapped his writing with a finger.
“We have run the numbers, me and my son, mostly my son, and we would need to keep a slave working constantly for eleven years to offset the cost of capturing them, and the turnover rate on elven slaves in the Empire is not nearly that long. Psh, turnover rate, a euphemism for working to death or becoming too crippled to work. The only reason people make money off of slavery is that the state pays for most of the capture, so slavers get to line their pockets with minimal risk to their own coffers-"
A voice erupted from another table.
"That is simply not true! You don't know the first thing about the economics of slavery! And your opinions on elves are ridiculous! You accuse our government of blind hatred and irrationality? I am sorry to speak so harshly about such a prolific Empiresman, but these things you have said tonight make me question your loyalty to the Empire, as well as your knowledge of the natural sciences!"
There were a fair few gasps throughout the room.
The person speaking was a young, fairly attractive man wearing a black three piece suit, which seemed to be really in fashion at the moment as most of the male guests were wearing one instead of traditional Imperial clothing. He had short, slicked back blonde hair, a clean shaven face, and a single ear pierced with a tasteful, small, single gemmed earring. On his wrist was a beautiful watch, something which the Baron had neglected to ever buy but was considered to be a symbol of an extremely wealthy and up to date man.
The man had no visible weapons, so the Baron felt it would be safe to escalate. He didn’t want to kill anyone the first real day he arrived in Waffenstadt, but with his reputation he could very easily get away with a fistfight or heated public debate. He was known for being a warrior and generally rough and tumble man, beating up people in public was not below him.
Not like this country's political history is devoid of physical violence amongst Empiresmen. Especially good old fashioned scraps amongst nobelmen! It’s a time honored tradition!
"Excuse me?"
The Baron asked as he stood up from his chair, barely restraining a smile, trying to look only a little serious.
"I don't know anything about economics? You have the gall to accuse me of not understanding economics? I am the richest man in the Empire, without slavery I might add, and I made that money through personally running Bickenstadt’s state merchant company. I am one of the most learned men in the Empire!"
The man stood as he spoke, just as the Baron did.
"Not all economics, of course, it would be arrogant to assume you lack sufficient knowledge overall, but the economics of slavery on the other hand? I can very easily accuse you of ignorance on that front. It's a business you have no experience in! And, strangely enough, I notice you've refrained from challenging my charge of disloyalty. Truly makes one question your priorities."
A few more gasps rang out in the room, alongside cheers and jeers. The Baron began to walk towards him, and the man responded in kind.
"People accuse me of being disloyal to the Empire over eating a grape the wrong way. Those accusations mean nothing to me at this point, but insulting my knowledge? That, I cannot allow to stand, slaver."
The two men reached each other, only a small gap separated the two as both men stared each other down. The young man smiled smugly and shrugged his shoulders.
"Be that as it may, you are wrong. Slavers benefit the Empire! Slavery revenue makes up a fifth of the country's yearly income! Getting rid of it all at once would be a huge hit to our economy!"
The two men stared at each other.
“Hit to our economy? You’re the real sub-human, so focused on yourself that you don't care if you have to step on others.”
The young man's hand was firmly inside his coat pocket, the Baron's hovering just below the empty pistol holster at his waist. The room was dead silent. All the people around began to stand up and back away slowly, or find a better vantage point in the case of many of the younger participants.
The Baron was never volatile in public, but he did have a reputation for dueling, specifically winning them, so people feared he may do something rash in the current political climate.
After staring each other down for quite some time, the Baron walked back to his table, picking up his notebook and returning it to his breast pocket.
“Economic arguments are secondary to me, I care about alleviating suffering. I make moral arguments, ones which I believe are quite sound, namely that enslaving people is wrong.”
The young man scoffed.
“Moral arguments are the arguments of a coward. It’s not my problem that you’re offended by my legitimate business. Slavery has been a thing for as long as we have, it’s an institution that has been around since we decided to start living in mud huts. Is slavery unethical? That’s not my problem, as we aren’t enslaving anything that matters. Do you have a problem with keeping livestock as well?”
The Baron rolled his eyes.
These people are the same in every world.
“Oh, yes, the classic. Equating people to livestock. I hope everyone in this room understands where this sort of thing leads. Am I offended by your business? Yes, and quite frankly, anyone who is not I can only assume are simply too primitive to understand higher order thinking like morality. Your argument against abolition is that I am offended by slavery? Are you a child? You can’t make anything better than that?”
The Baron addressed the crowd, yelling loudly so everyone could hear clearly.
“I apologize to the parents of whoever this mentally disabled boy is for bullying him, and calling his business unethical garbage. I am willing to compensate you for this slight against your dull son with a fully paid for education at the University of Bickenstadt.”
The Baron turned back to the man.
“Oh, I never caught your name? You know who I am.”
The man was balling his fists, but refused to let the anger show on his face.
“Lukas Dietrich, head of Die Grössenburger Handelsgesellschaft, third largest merchant company in Grössenstadt, and yes, we deal in elven slaves, among other things. Though our primary source of income comes from the mountains of Grössenstadt, their labor keeps us in business. Do you know how much it costs to pay an Imperial?”
The Baron whistled.
“Wow, you’re this philosophically stunted and you’ve managed to assist in running the third largest merchant company in Grössenstadt? You must be incredibly good at running sapient beings into the ground.”
“You call me stunted and undeveloped when you can’t even recognize that the elves are an existential threat to all humanity unless they are contained? They do well under our care anyways, their savage dispositions make civil society for them quite difficult without the guiding hand of the Imperials. Without that, they could be dangerous. Like the barbarians at the gates of Grössenburg nearly five hundred years ago. Even if they are uncivilized, pure savage energy can carry men quite far.”
He looked around at the audience.
“I see this as quite simple, really. All animals seek to spread themselves as much as possible, it is simply the nature of life, and that means that many different animals will begin to compete for resources, unless of course we control them all and logically distribute things. They won’t act as barbarians if they are treated as servants.”
The Baron shook his head disappointedly, addressing the crowd again.
“Look what they have done to our youth. They’ve turned him into a morally bankrupt moron. God help us, and forgive him, for he knows not what he do.”
“An Empiresman, asking a weak pacifist's god for help. I can hardly believe it. Have you gone mad in your old age? Or just soft?”
The Baron gripped his saber performatively.
“Everyone calls us weak pacifists, but I feel that my record speaks for itself. And it certainly says a whole lot more than yours, weak child that you are. Have you ever been on a battlefield?”
Lukas began to walk quickly towards the Baron, prompting many of his friends to either yell at him to let it go, or join him. In the end, six men, including Lukas, surrounded the Baron.
The Baron began to unbuckle his sword and empty holsters, setting them down on a nearby table. He didn’t want things to escalate quite that much, especially over dinner. A beatdown would be fine though.
The time for cutting down noblemen would come later.
“Well, are we going to do this here and now? I’m all for moving to a new venue.”
Lukas and his friends took off their suit coats and handed them off to bystanders nearby. The Baron cracked his knuckles.
“No magic, yes? Wouldn’t want to kill you or anything like that. Oh, and no need to make this official, the result was decided the second you all took my bait. Now, are you going to come in waves, or all at once?”
He gave them a short but flamboyant bow,
“I humbly request you do the latter.”
Lukas and his friends got into fighting stances. Lukas brought both his hands up, protecting his face with his fist and forearms in a classic boxing 'High Guard'. The rest of them were in lazy or extremely stiff stances with their hands in varying places. but mostly farther away from their face than is recommended.
It seems that boxing is less popular with this generation than with mine. I wonder why?
The Baron got into his fighting stance, very similar to Lukas. It was evident on the young men’s faces that they just now realized it was a bad idea all around to start this fight. Nobles and merchants don’t tend to look kindly upon displays of brazen violence and extreme masculinity, so they could easily get in trouble for this if they weren’t students. Another, possibly more important factor to them, however, is that the height and weight difference between them and the Baron became increasingly obvious as they drew closer.
It’s too late to back out now, sons. Your pride is on the line.
“Should you start? Or I?”
Lukas and his boys began to yell and charge forwards. A few of them charged with a fist fully raised behind them, which elicited a cruel smile on the Baron’s face.
“Good luck boys!”
The Baron lifted his back leg and delivered a front kick to one of the men’s chins, knocking him flat on his back. He could see what the men were going to do: charge him blindly and swing when within range. The trajectory of their punches made it easy to dodge them all at once.The Baron ducked as he rechambered his kick, balancing on one leg and one arm as he swept another man, straining to keep himself balanced as two men, carried by the momentum of their punches, tripped over him.
As he jumped back to his feet Lukas closed the distance, bombarding him with a flurry of blows. He was obviously well trained, as a few of his strikes managed to slip past the Baron’s guard, and while they didn’t phase a seasoned warrior like the Baron, he still definitely felt those hits.
After defending against the assault for a few seconds, the Baron found a single opening, throwing a punch as Lukas attacked, trading a hit to the chest for a lightning fast strike to the jaw, sending Lukas reeling back.
One of the men attempted to stand when the Baron kicked his legs out from under him, following up by dropping a heel on his head, flipping him over. Another man ran at the Baron but was met with a front kick to the chest, knocking him down hard. As the Baron turned back to deal with Lukas, he was punched in the side of the face by one of his boys.
After taking a moment to intimidate the boy, he responded with a bone shattering kick to his shin, which broke with a loud CRACK! The man tried to stay standing, but the slightest pressure made his legs buckle, and he dropped to the ground in a heap, grabbing his shattered shin and trying to stifle his grunts of pain. Imperial culture valued stoicism in moments of extreme pain, so he couldn’t allow himself to yell.
Lukas steadied himself and began to rush forward. His two remaining friends looked at the man holding his broken shin and crying out, then to each other, then back to their friend. The Baron smiled and walked towards Lukas. Lukas was extremely quick, again unleashing a flurry of strikes so swiftly it was hard to follow.
After just a few strikes were thrown, the Baron kicked Lukas’s lead leg at the ankle, knocking him down before using the momentum to chamber his leg, unleashing a sidekick to the head. Lukas laid on the ground for a few moments, staring at the ceiling and catching his breath, before sitting up, slowly, and spitting out a gob of blood, as well as wiping his bloodied nose.
The Baron glared down at him, lowering his hands to his chest.
“Are you done?”
Lukas didn’t say anything, just glowering at him. The Baron addressed his friends.
“You young men seem to have forgotten who I am. Or maybe you just don't pay proper respect to your elders.”
The Baron addressed the people who had stayed to watch.
“Any other slavers want to come make their displeasure with abolitionism known? No? Good.”
The Baron retrieved his weapons, strapping them back on as he spoke.
“If anyone wants a reminder as to what happens to those on the wrong side of history, remember what you saw here today, and use that memory to help drive policy. You know where I stand on things.”
The Baron surveyed the young men groaning and helping each other up and whistled.
“Wow, that really got out of hand fast. Young men, as much as I disagree strongly with your ethics, I want to congratulate you on your courage in fighting me, and apologize for being so incendiary to you specifically, Lukas.”
The Baron smiled. He could not bring himself to hate the young man.
He’s just a kid. He can change.
“I do not think you are stupid, just wrong, and possibly evil. Young men are the driving force of history, courage is to be celebrated, as well as fighting for what you believe in. I just hope that in the future you put that energy to good use and change the world for the better.”
As he was making to leave, he spotted the man who had asked the question that started everything and smiled.
“Oh, yes, I forgot to answer the last part of your question. On the topic of visiting elven lands in an unofficial capacity, I have heard from one of my retainers, a free elf, by the way, that the scenery is breathtaking. He says it’s more beautiful than our Bvarian province, however he fully admits that it’s likely he’s just biased towards his homeland. I, for one, wish to find out someday. Thank you for giving me an opportunity for a little political theater, I hope to be seeing you all again in the future.”
He spared a glance for the men hobbling out of the dining room.
“...And hopefully without as much violence.”
The Baron spoke up, addressing the entire ballroom.
“I apologize for making a scene, but as I am sure you can tell, I feel very strongly about racial equality. Lukas, if you would like to get lunch sometime to discuss our ideas more amicably, I will gladly make time for you.”
He flashed his most charming smile and waltzed out of the dining room.
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March 7th, 1661. It was around three o’clock in the morning, and the sky was pitch black, with not a single star in sight. The dark clouds had rolled in and completely snuffed out the pale moonlight, creating a veil of black which covered the ocean in and around Bickenstadt harbor, at least where the gas lanterns were not. The seas were rough and choppy, and a heavy rain had set in, soaking anything unfortunate enough to be outside all the way through.
Sailing through these perilous waters were just a handful of men, in a very small boat. It moved with a speed one would not expect from a boat of that size, and cut through the choppy water like a hot knife through butter. They were being propelled by wind magic creating a highly condensed torrent of air behind them, a fairly advanced and difficult feat of magical prowess.
They maneuvered seemingly straight into the rock of a cliff, each man involuntarily tensing as their boat sailed closer and closer to the wall of stone in front of them. They braced just as the nose touched the rock, and began to go right through. There was a massive cavern, protected and hidden by state-of-the-art illusion magic produced using a mixture of heat, gravity, and water magic, a very expensive but near perfect way of hiding anything.
There was a small town, and the men all vocalized their surprise as soon as they opened their eyes. It wasn’t exactly the city of Grössenburg, but it was a small, fully functioning town, with a market and administration building, and even an inn. The mage lessened the pressure of the air as they approached the docks, met by a man wearing the traditional Imperial puff and slash.
“Are you the Elves sent for my father?”
He ran his hands through his blonde hair as he spoke. He had been waiting for nearly three hours. One of the men got off the boat and flipped off his hood, exposing his blonde hair and pointy ears.
“Oui, Monsieur.”
Wolfgang von Bickenstadt was meeting with men sent by Grand Général de la République Elfique, Napoléon Bonaparte. He extended a hand towards the elf, who looked at it for a moment.
“Surprised an Empiresman would offer to shake my ‘and.”
Wolfgang smiled.
“I think you’ll find we do things in Bickenstadt a little differently than the others.”
The rest of the elves took off their hoods and stepped onto the dock. Wolfgang continued.
“Well, I am sure you know why you are here. Come, we will get you folks to Castle Bickenstadt. I just ask that you wear a hat while you walk the streets. If you have your ears out, people will gawk at you. It happens to Jean all the time.”
The elf nodded.
“Understandable. Capots, les garçons!”
Wolfgang led them through the sewers, then up to the streets of Bickenstadt. They were quiet, but not quite empty. The introduction of gas lighting allowed for much of Bickenstadt to be lit up at night, at least where the pipe infrastructure was already set, allowing for real Bickenstadt nightlife.
The elves marveled at the city as they were led through. The city was breathtaking. Many of the buildings were made of lightly colored brick with various different stone and wood accents, but there was also a wide variety of different buildings and building materials used throughout the city as many different people settled in Bickenstadt after coming for trade.
“It’s lit up, just like Paris. Your city is beautiful, sir.”
Wolfgang smiled genuinely.
“Well thank you. I heard from my father that Paris was also stunning.”
The elves were lighting up, pleased that Wolfgang was being so pleasant and that the city was so beautiful at night. There was a group of students sitting on a street corner, drinking something out of mugs. The elves considered them warily, but Wolfgang simply continued to march forwards.
One of the students stood up and began to walk over.
“Yo, where’re you guys goin’ all sneaky like?”
Wolfgang stopped and looked at the young man.
“Don’t students have a curfew?”
The student laughed nervously before going back to his group, who shrieked with laughter when he arrived.
When they finally arrived at Castle Bickenstadt, Wolfgang brought them up to his office and began to hand out papers.
“I know that you speak Reikers, but I still had Jean translate everything into Elven. These papers have our logistical information and explanations of what exactly we want to learn from you, and what your responsibilities are. Is this clear?”
The elves were thumbing through the papers as they nodded their heads.
“So, you just want us to train your men to fight like we do? That should be fairly simple. Will your men take orders from us?”
Wolfgang nodded.
“Absolutely. We have non-humans in our company, and the Baron has told them that severe racial discrimination from the men results in public flogging.”
The elf nodded his head and the sergeants whispered to each other in Elven.
“Fabuleux, we can absolutely work with this.”
Another elf spoke without looking up from his papers.
“So, when do we start?”
Wolfgang smiled brightly.
“When you wake up tomorrow. We have training every day for the next couple of months, unless we get deployed. Is this acceptable?”
The elves all vocalized their agreement.
“Excellent, then the servants will show you to your rooms.”
He shook hands with each man.
“It’s going to be a pleasure working alongside you.”