Chapter 7
Ludwin was beginning to regret working for the Baron. He was soaked from head to toe, and had been for the past few hours with no signs of relief any time soon.
“How do they not get diseases from living here? My shoes are filled with water!”
Fergus shrugged.
“Eh, it ‘appens where I’m from. Ya get used tae it. An’ they probably got some sorta waterproofin’ magic. We got some a’ that stuff, though it’s real expensive tae make. ‘Ear it’s a mix o’ water n’ gravity magic.”
Ludwin ducked under an awning to catch his breath.
“That’s great Fergus, love the trivia-Any idea where we are?”
“Yeah, close tae where we’re goin’. Governor said they’re probably in one o’ tha abandoned buildin’ groups. Probably a nicer one, tha others’re close tae fallin’ over.”
Ludwin stood up tall and took a deep breath.
“Well then, I guess we should get moving again. Lead the way, love.”
Fergus walked through the downpour like it wasn’t even there, not slowed at all by the fat droplets pounding him nonstop. Ludwin had good stamina and strength, but the force of the water was beginning to get to him.
Fergus gestured to a group of houses by their lonesome, not connected to the main platforms by planks or bridges, simply a disconnected cluster of abandoned homes. Ludwin looked at the gap, about eight feet wide with the surface of the water less than a foot from the deck itself.
“Fucking…whatever.”
Ludwin shook his head and turned to Fergus.
“Let’s get jumping love.”
The two men got a running start and leaped over the gap. Fergus landed with a graceful roll back up to his feet. Ludwin landed at the edge, barely making it across with one foot kissing the surface of the water. He was dragged up by Fergus and brought over to the awning, frowning as he realized there were holes in the roof.
“Guess that’s to be expected. After you, Fergus. Trip any traps first, you’ll survive easier than I.”
Fergus nodded his head and pushed open the door, ready for whatever was there. He found nothing, just an empty room and puddles of water. He clicked his tongue and stepped inside, confirming that it was abandoned.
Ludwin poked his head in and groaned.
“Nothing, huh? Well, I suppose we should still check thoroughly.”
The two entered the room and looked around. Ludwin ran a finger across the counter and checked it.
“Wet. Why did I think there would be dust?”
“Ludwin, over ‘ere.”
Fergus pointed to an empty window frame with a board connecting to another house. Ludwin smiled and walked over, the pair crossing the board carefully. Fergus grinned brightly as he saw something in the middle of the room: A small, extinguished campfire, and the roof above it was patched with a few boards which looked newer than the rest of the structure.
“Looks like governor was right on tha money.”
The two men clambered into the room proper and began to look around. There was still not a wealth of items in the room, but there were at least a few things to investigate, some wooden boxes, the fire, and some closed cabinets, which the two men immediately set upon.
Fergus first looked at the fire. The fire was still mostly built, the sticks and whatnot used for kindling were only burned about halfway through. Fergus guessed by the amount of material burned and the heat of the water, it was doused very recently.
Wait…very recently.
Ludwin opened a few wooden boxes, finding a few things. Most of it was food, dried meats and wrapped cheeses, or knives and honing stones. He opened one and found a canvas bag. He smiled satisfyingly as he reached for the bag.
“Wait Ludwin-”
A bolt pierced Ludwin’s hand, pinning it to the bag he was reaching for. Ludwin screamed as Fergus drew his weapons, deflecting another bolt aimed at his head in one smooth movement. The enemies were above them, just a pair of masked assailants blending into the ceiling. They both drew long knives and jumped down from the rafters.
Fergus moved so quickly it was barely even perceptible, tackling the man pouncing on Ludwin out of the sky. Ludwin moved to grab the bolt and pulled, slipping off of the blood and leaving it impaled in his hand. Ludwin drew the knife at his hip and parried a slash from the attacker’s giant knife.
Fergus and the assassin slammed into the ground and clambered up onto their feet. Fergus slashed with his ax, but instead of hitting meat it flew through the air. The assassin pulled his knife across Fergus’s forearm, slicing through the leather vambrace, but not into skin, with his enchanted knife. It was a very advanced move that only someone with training would do. This man was skilled in knife fighting.
Ludwin glanced at his still stuck hand and just barely ducked a slash aimed at his head. The assailant raised his knife in a reverse grip and thrust down. Ludwin yelled at the top of his lungs as he pulled his hand up the bolt, grabbing the man’s wrist and redirecting it to Ludwin’s shoulder, piercing in about half an inch.
Ludwin stood taller and grabbed the man’s forearm with his knife hand and pushed forward, unsteadying the man and slamming him back-first into a wall. The two wrestled for control, twisting and turning as they tried to break grasps and find new places to hold and push and pull.
Fergus adjusted the grip on his ax, holding it up near the head so he could move faster and with more control. The man rushed forward, thrusting at Fergus. The man was a master of knife fighting, but unfortunately for him, so was Fergus. Fergus sidestepped and slashed up at the man’s wrist, trailing a shallow path of gore from wrist to mid forearm.
The man flipped his knife to a reverse grip and managed to cut Fergus’s inner wrist, the part of the vambrace that was weakest. A droplet slapped against the floor as the attacker drew blood, and Fergus smiled.
Ludwin and his assailant wrestled themselves onto the floor, rolling around and crashing into things until the assassin ended up on top. He raised his knife in a reverse grip with both hands and slammed it down. Ludwin kicked his leg up and unsteadied the man, causing him to embed his knife into the wooden floor.
Fergus’s smile deepened as he watched the attacker’s arm flood with blood. It seemed he had hit a vein, while his attacker only cut into his flesh, not striking anything vital. The man thrust his massive knife forward and Fergus dashed in, catching the man’s wrist in the beard of his ax and wrenching it to the side as he swung his other hand, catching the man’s neck and bringing forth a massive torrent of dark red liquid. Fergus followed it up with a thrust upwards into the man’s jaw, shutting his mouth as he tried to make noise.
The assailant pulled his knife out of the floor and thrust downwards again, Ludwin barely managing to stop it before it hit anything vital, though still not able to prevent it from digging into his shoulder. The man raised his knife again and slammed it down, stabbing through Ludwin’s other shoulder.
He raised his knife again, and Ludwin tapped into a secret reserve of willpower and energy. As the man’s body raised Ludwin raised as well, grabbing the man’s face with his hand and thrusting his knife up into his armpit, twisting it as the man gasped and groaned. Fergus flew over and split the man’s skull with his ax, covering Ludwin with brains and blood.
The man fell back, kept up only by his stance, bouncing up and down to spread his bodily fluids all over Fergus. Fergus threw the man off and immediately moved to attend to Ludwin’s mangled hand.
“Ludwin! You alright?”
Ludwin groaned and held his hands close to his chest. He grunted and whimpered through gnashing teeth.
“O-oh yeah, just fffucking peachy!”
Fergus stood Ludwin up and immediately moved to open the front door, finding a deck and an eight foot jump. Ludwin stared at his hand shakily, then to the viscera-covered bolt embedded in the box.
“W-we still need to grab all that stuff.”
Fergus looked around the room for a long board, eventually resorting to chopping two out of the wall itself, swiftly moving to place them over the gap. Fergus flipped Ludwin’s hood over his head and ushered him out of the building, holding the sack in his uninjured hand.
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The governor was sitting at his desk, window behind him replaced and a thick curtain mounted. He looked at the items which covered his desk, two scrolls, and a bunch of Reiksgeld. One of them were orders specifying that the governor was to be killed, and if they were caught they were to kill themselves. Ludwin spoke.
“To me, that points to it being the Empress. What random assassins are willingly to just kill themselves that way? These were most likely Landwehr. They were highly trained in knife fighting and very close combat.”
Fergus shrugged.
“Didnae see any sickles.”
The governor spoke, looking over the other scroll he was reading.
“Well, I doubt such a clandestine operation would warrant a sickle. The knives make the most sense.”
Fergus nodded and allowed the two formally educated men to do the brain work while he perused the random books the governor had on display. Ludwin shook his head.
“There is really nothing to work with here, how’s that other scroll? Anything useful?”
The governor took off his glasses and shook his head.
“Unfortunately no, simply more detailed instructions for my murder. We really got lucky, the rain must have messed up their aim or they would have killed me for sure. I was a sitting duck.”
Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.
Ludwin smiled.
“Have you considered getting a new office? Somewhere without a window?”
The governor nodded.
“I want this window removed, personally, but they say the thick curtain should be enough protection.”
“Let us hope that it is. In the meantime, I hope those Reiksgeld will make your wound ache a tad less.”
The governor smiled brightly.
“Yes, one thousand Reiskgeld for little ‘ol me. I’m almost flattered.”
Ludwin suddenly looked like he thought of something important.
“Oh, do you think you could, say, call the city council together early? These are very harrowing circumstances.”
“Oh yes, that can be done. I imagine I can get them here tomorrow, a day early. That’s the best I can do for you.”
Ludwin prevented his shoulders from dropping and put on his best businessman smile.
“Excellent, it has been my pleasure, but my hand hurts, and I would very much like to sleep until tomorrow.”
“Of course, rest well, my friend.”
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Krysia Badeni was sitting at the desk in her office doing paperwork. She was always surprised by just how much being a soldier, and especially leading soldiers, relied on the ability to read and write, as well as the ability to focus on paperwork.
There was a festival coming up on the 18th of March, a new one celebrating Bszerci culture now that it was legal to do as such. It made Krysia very happy, however, it also worried her. With no Reikification policies and the folding of the Bszerci into the Imperial national mythology, it was possible that people would stop wanting to leave the Empire. She sighed and took out a small missive, dating the letter and writing it’s recipient: Aleczandr Aleksandrowicz.
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March 21th, 1661.
To Aleczandr
Alecz, I am sure you have been thinking this but I will still write it out to you just in case you are not. What I am writing to you is about leaving the Empire, specifically the time in which we should, which I think is somewhat soon, within the next few years.
If we act too late, then the resentment our people have towards the Empire may fade, the Empress is making moves to try and win over some part of our population. I would say we need to revolt no later than 1666. Any amount of time after that I believe the Empress will have gotten her talons into our people’s minds.
Just for your consideration,
Kysia Badeni
P.S We should talk to the Baron about this.
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Kysia sealed her letter in an envelope and began to write the address when someone burst into the room, a regular policeman wearing the colors of Holenstadt.
“Ma’am! You need to come quickly, there’s been reports of a possible riot brewing!”
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A man wearing traditional Bszerci clothing stood on top of a large wooden crate. He was giving a speech to a crowd in a smaller square.
“...How can we allow these człekokształtny to poison our homeland from within? The elves are the enemy of mankind, and now they are free to walk about our city? To make our people stupid and degenerate? I for one will not allow us to turn into Bickenstadt!”
The small crowd cheered in agreement.
“We should go to the main square and make our grievances known! They must listen to us!”
The crowd cheered ‘Yeah!’
“They must hear the cries of the people of Holensburg and stop this nonsense!”
The crowd continued to cheer as the man hopped off the box, and they followed him as they left the smaller square.
They entered the main square, a massive area with every kind of business and service available in Holensburg could be found.
“Człekokształtny! Człekokształtny! Człekokształtny! Wyciągnij ich!”
The crowd chanted as they found a spot to stand and demonstrate. The ringleader stood on another box, getting the attention of the rest of the market.
“People of Holensburg! Are we really just going to allow Człekokształtny to make our homes a degenerate wasteland like Bickenstadt? With elves wandering around, praying on good Imperial women and making their men dumber with their foul magicks? I will not stand for it!”
The rabble rousers cheered and were joined by a few from the square.
The ringleader scanned the square and found something he was not expecting: angry faces.
“You think that elves are going to destroy us? Do you think we Bszerci are weaklings?”
“Get out of here skurwielu I want to shop in peace!”
“If anyone is sub-human it’s you! What have non-humans done to you?”
The ringleader scowled.
“Ah, I see, we’ve got some zdrajcy rasy in the crowd! How embarrassing to call yourselves Bszerci when you refuse to side with your people!”
“And how embarrassing to call yourself a Bszerci when you’ve fallen for the Empress’s bullshit!”
Another man stood on a box.
“A real Bszerci would reject that Imperial bullshit!”
Many in the square voiced their agreements. The ringleader of the racists hopped down from his box and walked over to his opposition, followed by his crowd of racists.
“A real Bszerci would recognize who the true enemy is!”
“I could say the same thing to you! The Empress-”
“The Empress ended her father’s Reikification policy you dolt! She saved Bszerci culture!”
Some from the other crowd yelled out expletives and cries of ‘bullshit!’ Which was responded to by the racist crowd with jeers and boos. The opposition hopped off of his box and the two men got in each other’s faces. Both crowds looked tense and ready to explode, while the rest of the square, the majority of people there, tried to go around and avoid this increasingly dangerous looking public demonstration.
The two crowds were made up of similar age groups and demographics: young and middle aged men. The people against the racist crowd had a higher percentage of middle aged and older men, while the racist crowd had more young university aged men. And, notably, the opposing crowd had some young women in it.
“What are you gonna do? Hit me for being a race traitor?”
“What are you gonna do? Hit me for being right?”
The two men stared dead into each other’s eyes, their crowds beginning to grow antsy and riled up. Suddenly, a deep, loud, feminine voice carried through the square.
“Enough!”
Everyone looked towards the source of the noise: Krysia Badeni with fifty lightly armored policemen with clubs, and fifty heavily armed and armored knights.
“You are being ordered to disperse! The main square will have heavy security for the rest of this day! For the rest of today, zero tolerance policy! You will be arrested if you act up, now stand down!”
The two men looked back at each other, hate overflowing from their eyes, when the racist ringleader turned around.
“You’re not worth it. You’re just a race traitor.”
“And you’re not worth my time because you have betrayed your people and got in bed with the Empire!”
The man scoffed and walked back to his crowd, telling them to disperse. Krysia aimed her saber at the remaining crowd.
“I am ordering you to disperse and go about your business as normal! There will be no fighting today!”
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In Bickenstadt, Jean was currently overseeing the construction of new housing attached to Castle Bickenstadt. A handful of new arrivals were going to be housed there going forward, a prospect that Jean was very excited about.
The new arrivals were elves, formerly enslaved in Holenstadt. They were born in the Empire and have lived their entire lives as slaves, they had no memory of the Elven continent. They had heard stories, but they feared the reception they would get should they go to their ancestral homeland.
Jean was sketching out a room in the elven fashion. While the Imperial and Republican room layouts and styles were similar, there were very notable differences in how crowded rooms were and where facilities tended to be.
Jean looked up and saw a group of people coming towards him. It was a mix of a handful of humans and a handful of elves. The four humans were armed guards, which the Baron insisted they have at all times for the time being. The five elves were dressed in Imperial puff and slash, which the Baron said was the only quality clothing he had on hand. Jean suspected that he just liked seeing elves wearing Imperial clothing, but that didn’t bother him much. He wanted to see the Baron wearing one of his uniforms.
Jean smiled brightly and walked over to meet them. They looked nervous and uncomfortable, which made his smile slip a little. He extended his hand and introduced himself.
“Bonjour, Je m’appelle Jean La Mécanique. C'est bon de te rencontrer!”
The former slaves looked at him, eyes filled with confusion. Jean’s smile dropped a little more before he caught himself.
The Baron always smiles, it makes people feel comfortable with him.
“Right, you were born ‘ere. My name is Jean La Mécanique, it is a pleasure to meet you.”
Slowly, one of the former slaves extended their hand and Jean shook it vigorously.
“I am working ‘ere on plans for your rooms and I ‘ave a couple of questions for you. The Baron ‘as requested that it be as comfortable for you as possible, you’ve ‘ad enough suffering in your lives.”
Jean smiled as brightly as he could, trying to look as disarming as possible.
“So, I ‘ave to ask, is there any specific style you would like your rooms to be? I was going to give you an elven style, ‘owever it just occurred to me that you most likely ‘ave no memories of the elven continent. Would you per’aps like to ‘ave an Imperial style?”
The elves took a moment to think. After a while, the five elves all nodded.
“Good, good. I will make sure to give you the finest rooms you ‘ave ever seen, even finer than the former bastards who owned you. Rest assured, you will live good, honest lives ‘ere. And, most importantly, free lives, away from the oppression La Republique Elfique ‘as dedicated itself to destroying!”
The elves looked at their feet as they thanked Jean. Jean’s smile slipped for a second. He was not expecting them to be so…timid, even after being freed.
What on Earth happened to them? What in the name of The Lady did those Imperials do to them?
Jean gently placed a hand on the shoulder of the nearest elf, causing them to jump slightly. Jean felt his smile fully disappear, replaced with a face full of concern and kindness.
“Well, I ‘ope we ‘ave more opportunities to speak in the future, per’aps I will regale you with stories of my ‘omeland, but I must get back to my work-I’m sure you understand. Just remember, you are free ‘ere, and you ‘ave inalienable rights, meaning they cannot be taken away from you. I ‘ope you find your free life in Bickenstadt more…fulfilling than your enslavement.”
The elf looked at their feet, but a small smile crept across their face. Jean again smiled brightly.
I suppose I will take that. Bringing any amount of joy to them is worth a thousand deaths.