Chapter 22
The sunlit grotto stood in stark contrast to the sombre scene of Princess Ramani weeping over Pravin’s fallen form. Her brother, Prince Bajirao, showed no visible remorse for the death of their former retainer. His words, however, had a visible effect on his sister.
“So low a cost?” Princess Ramani’s voice was a bare whisper, “How could you even think that, brother? Pravin has been at our side since we were cubs! We grew up together; went to the academy together – he has always been with us!”
“And therein lay our error,” Prince Bajirao said. “We didn’t want to believe it, but his betrayal was ordained by our favour. Father was right: we were too wilful and foolish to heed his wisdom.”
“Betrayal? In what twisted world is love considered betrayal?”
“In this one!” The prince roared, “Our customs exist for a reason. Perhaps your career as an actress has loosened your grasp on reality. These desires that you harbour can only be fulfilled in the dramas in which you so often play a part. As a Princess of Mumba, you have a critical duty to carry out for the sake of our people.”
“And just how was Pravin insufficient?” The princess asked. “Did he not serve as your adjutant on the Tamali Frontier? Did he not bring victory to our forces time and time again? He saved your life on at least three separate occasions against Minos marauders! You speak of my duty as a princess, but you have denied me the very choice that is central to that duty.”
“I am not here to revisit worn old arguments. Don’t pretend these points of yours haven’t already been refuted. Come, we’ve already wasted enough time here.”
A set of powerful-looking warriors moved in to flank Princess Ramani. The thoroughly miserable Beastman Lord showed no sign of resistance as they led her away.
“This world is indeed twisted,” her bitter words clung to the air. “Everything is wrong.”
“So it seems.”
The Prince and his escort froze at the unexpected reply to Princess Ramani’s statement.
“Who goes there?” Prince Bajirao demanded, “Show yourself!”
A handful of heartbeats passed with no response before the Prince nodded to his guards. They fanned out into the jungle, searching for the unseen speaker. Prince Bajirao grew more tense by the moment.
“Ramani,” he said, “enough of this! Have you not caused enough trouble for everyone?”
“This isn’t any arrangement of mine, brother,” the princess replied warily. “Neither did Pravin mention anyone coming to meet us.”
“Assassins?” The prince peered suspiciously at their surroundings, “Our enemies wouldn’t pass up a chance like this. We need to get somewhere defensible until help arrives.”
As the Beastmen withdrew to the grotto, Ludmila pondered the quick adaptation to their perceived situation. The level of sophistication in their society presented challenges she hadn’t considered before. Centuries-old martial institutions, the propagation of magic items, and accessibility to education for mages could turn a far wider variety of people into substantial threats. Then there was the notion that more advanced parts of the world simply knew more about their regional Job Classes and what they were capable of, even if they weren’t aware of the Class System’s existence. In certain ways, ignorance of the system was more dangerous than being aware of it.
The muted sounds of an intense skirmish came from outside the grotto. The two royals were ushered deeper inside. Their escort’s numbers dwindled to a bare handful as the unseen battle drew close.
“Unbelievable,” Prince Bajirao muttered. “Those are royal guards! Who could be after us? Commandos from the Minos League? Infiltrators from X’toc’irrl?”
“We should retreat into the sewers,” Princess Ramani said. “The police should still be down there with their net.”
“Did you just miss the whole part where we’re losing royal guards?” The prince snarled, “The police will be useless! No matter who these people are, they should have been weakened by our forces. We need to finish them off before they can regroup and recover!”
Ludmila considered their options. While going in blind against an unknown adversary might seem like a terminally idiotic idea, she thought she could follow Prince Bajirao’s rationale. Assuming their royal guards were something like Baharuth’s Whitesilver Imperial Guard, even individuals in the Realm of Heroes wouldn’t come out of a fight with them unscathed. The power that Princess Ramani demonstrated against two of the royal guards also suggested that she was in the Realm of Heroes herself.
To have an individual on hand to match her meant deploying a one-in-millions strategic asset in the heart of enemy territory. If the prince possessed a similar level of strength, successfully pulling off an assassination would risk forces that were critical to national security. She couldn’t see that happening, so it might have simply been a gamble using expendable forces that exploited the confusing situation or an opportunistic act independently taken by agents planted for other purposes. Either way, there was a statistically infinitesimal chance that the prince and princess would randomly be overwhelmed after the royal guard had softened their attackers up.
“No matter how small,” Princess Ramani said, “it’s not worth the risk. We lose nothing by joining with our allies.”
“How ironic this sounds coming from someone who just tried to elope with her bodyguard,” Prince Bajirao spat. “Let’s get a move on, then. I can’t wait to experience the city sewers in their unadulterated glory.”
“They come, my prince!”
The warning was immediately followed by the renewed sounds of battle. Prince Bajirao and Princess Ramani came together, taking up stances to meet the advance of their unknown foe. Their resolute air faltered, however, when silence fell over the grotto once again.
“What in the world is going on?” Prince Bajirao muttered.
“I wonder.”
Both Beastmen spun at the sound of the voice from before. A third Tiger Beastman emerged from the shadows, adorned in garb unlike those worn by the other Beastmen portrayed thus far in the performance.
“Declare yourself, stranger!” The prince demanded.
“Merely a passer-by,” the newcomer replied, unperturbed by the prince’s tone. “One who happened to stumble upon a great injustice. A pair of lovers whose only wish was to be free and happy; a brave young man, murdered in cold blood.”
“Make your intentions plain, woman,” the prince said. “What do you–no, what do your allies want?”
No matter how Ludmila looked at it, the newcomer was nowhere near the strength of the other two and the prince hadn’t missed this. If anything, she was not much stronger than the Beastman civilians who had migrated into the Draconic Kingdom.
“To ask that very same question!” The third Beastman replied cheerfully, “What do you want?”
Prince Bajirao exchanged a glance with his sister.
“Step aside,” he said. “We haven’t the time nor inclination to dally with a lunatic.”
“We?” The stranger tilted her head curiously, “Based on what I’ve observed, this young woman doesn’t appreciate your…intervention in her affairs. Tell me, my dear: what do you want?”
“Ramani…”
Prince Bajirao’s growl of warning only seemed to spur the princess to respond.
“I want to be free,” she said.
“Ramani!”
“Is that so?” The stranger said, “It seems to me that there is now but a single obstacle standing in your way.”
The prince shifted away from his sister. His eyes went back and forth, attention split between two potential threats. The princess sighed.
“How disappointing, brother,” she said. “Is that all you see me as?”
“Considering your recent life choices,” Prince Bajirao replied, “you’ll forgive me for erring on the side of caution.”
Princess Ramani made a disgusted noise and left her brother in the grotto. She silently walked past the remains of the royal guards on her way to the surface. The stranger followed in her footsteps, and together they continued through the jungle until they reached Pravin’s body. The princess sighed as her eyes once again fell over his unmoving form.
“Was his transgression so severe that he deserved death?” The stranger asked.
“Of course not,” Princess Ramani answered. “But my family certainly thought his execution was justified.”
“Why?”
“Why?” The princess narrowed her eyes, “You…you’re not from around here, are you?”
“You’re not wrong,” the stranger replied. “And I admit that I am quite confused about the circumstances behind this incident.”
The princess’ whiskers drooped as she stared down at Pravin.
“What is there to be confused about?” She said, “We may have lived our lives together, but I am a Princess of Mumba while Pravin is the son of a guardsman.”
“…I don’t see what the problem is.”
“Then you must be from a very far-off place. I am of the Savitrivamsha, one of the great dynasties of the Kshatriya.”
“What does that mean?”
“Kshatriya is my varna. My caste. I was born as a warrior, administrator, and ruler of my people.”
“Was Pravin not a warrior, as well?”
Princess Ramani shook her head.
“Pravin was of the same varna, but there are…nuances. The Savitrivamsha are the children of Savitri. We are one of the highest Kshatriya lineages in the Beastman Confederation. Pravin was born to no notable lineage. I suppose it’s similar to the difference between aristocrats and commoners that I’ve heard about in the far-flung places of the world.”
“I mean no offence by saying this,” the stranger said, “but that seems quite silly to me. Are you not both Beastmen? Or do you bleed a different colour? What’s so great about this ‘Savitri’ fellow?”
The Beastman princess laughed despite herself.
“Savitri is not a ‘fellow’,” she told the stranger. “Savitri is the goddess of learning; the patroness of the arts. She is the source of bardic power.”
“So you claim to have divine blood.”
“In the case of the Savitrivamsha, we are referring to the descendants of women who might be considered personifications of Savitri: individuals who represent the pinnacle of learning and the arts. The Brightness Dragon Lord, who has a great love of knowledge and learning, favours such women and they become his consorts on occasion.”
Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.
“In other words,” the stranger said, “you don’t carry divine blood, but draconic blood.”
“Exactly. My draconic bloodline has not awakened as it has in Mitra of Āsandīvat, but even those whose blood lies dormant can be significantly stronger than the elite of purely mortal pedigree.”
“Purely mortal pedigree…like Pravin?”
Princess Ramani grimaced and looked away from her partner’s remains.
“Yes, that’s right.”
“How unsettling,” the stranger said. “If I understand you correctly, you’re being treated as livestock. You are held subservient to some quaint notion of breeding potential.”
“Not livestock,” the princess corrected her. “It is dharma. All have a place within the cosmic order and must act according to their place. To do otherwise would be bad karma.”
“What happens when one has ‘bad karma’?”
“Isn’t it obvious? They become evil.”
“Evil to whom?”
“Did you not hear what I said before? We speak of the cosmic order that dictates existence itself.”
“I see,” the stranger said. “So Pravin was slain because he was evil.”
A sullen silence was Princess Ramani’s only response. The stranger’s striped tail curled and uncurled before she released a long sigh.
“Preposterous,” she said. “Completely and utterly preposterous. Tales of the mighty Beastman Confederation have reached the far corners of the world, yet in following them I find myself in a most preposterous place. Even after such tragedy has befallen you, you seek to justify its occurrence. It’s like you’re bound to this endless wheel of superstitious nonsense.”
“Dharmachakra.”
“What, you even have a name for it? Imagine a society where problems are formally identified but never addressed.”
The pair of Beastman left the trees, emerging at the edge of a cliff overlooking a shining metropolis. The vista made Arwintar seem like a rustic town of little significance. The canopy was illuminated from below by countless lights that rivalled the sunrise, suggesting that the city knew no night. Ludmila gaped at the scene in awe, wondering how many millions of Beastmen lived in the understory of the mighty urban jungle.
High above Princess Ramani and the stranger, a pair of giant falcons settled into a circling glide, but the two Beastmen didn’t react to being spotted.
“Such a wonder,” the stranger said. “A wonder and a shame. I suppose my coming here was truly ordained.”
“Ordained?” Princess Ramani asked, “What do you mean? Who are you?”
“Me? I am the Sage Khhschlr. My long travels have brought me to your Beastman Confederation, and it seems that I must break the wheel of dharma to bring freedom to its people. It is a worthy cause, don’t you think?”
Princess Ramani didn’t reply, but neither did she leave the Sage’s side. The scene faded to black, and the sky of the Sixth Floor slowly returned to normal.
Eh? That’s it? I wanted to see more…
Ludmila released a sigh. It was just starting to get interesting, too.
“It looks like you enjoyed the performance,” the Sorcerer King said.
“I have mixed feelings about it, Your Majesty,” Ludmila replied. “I was quite annoyed when the story finally revealed why those two Beastmen were being pursued. The appearance of a hateable villain made things more palpable, though.”
“…just to be certain, who did you think was the villain?”
“The newcomer…Khhschrl? Certain Beastman names sound like growls more than anything else. She’s clearly trying to exploit Princess Ramani’s weakness in the wake of her loss, which promises a much more compelling narrative than a pair of stupid runaway lovers. I’m sure the story will have its twists and turns, but I’d like to see Princess Ramani remain steadfast to her people’s beliefs in the end.”
“I think it would be better to see her fall,” Lady Shalltear said.
“Underdog stories may be popular,” Ludmila replied, “but, in this case, having the underdog prevail would send a problematic message.”
“How so?” The Sorcerer King asked.
“From what I gather,” Ludmila answered, “this is a story about a rebellion against the established social order of the setting. Is that something we should show to our citizens?”
“You may have a point there, but isn’t this just entertainment?”
“The masses are easily influenced, Your Majesty,” Ludmila said. “Two centuries after their exploits, countless people still seek to emulate the Thirteen Heroes. Considering the undeniably high quality of this production, it may end up fomenting anti-government sentiment.”
“I-Is that so?” The Sorcerer King said, “I thought the circumstances might be too dissimilar for people to see themselves in the tale’s protagonists.”
“That may be so,” Ludmila admitted. “My thoughts are only based on the bit that we’ve seen, after all. It would be a waste to have the efforts of the theatrical company go to waste. The advanced civilisation being portrayed may also serve as an inspiration for our citizens to build up the Sorcerous Kingdom into a better place.”
As the Sorcerer King had so accurately inferred, she had been too quick to judge the content of the performance. So long as the audience was grounded in their convictions, the show would serve as a much-needed window into a world that they had been isolated from for far too long.
“It’s called Fool’s Conquest, though,” Lady Aura said. “Shouldn’t that mean the story is about how these idiots ruin everything?”
“That’s your prediction?” The Sorcerer King asked.
“Yup!” Lady Aura nodded, “That idiot princess and the guy she tried to run off with defied how things are supposed to be. Isn’t that terrible? It should be a story about how she and that Sage bring chaos and ruin to their home. In the end, everything burns! That will show everyone what a bad idea it is to think you can just go and do whatever.”
Beside Lady Aura, Lord Mare nodded empathetically in agreement. It felt a bit extreme, but children were often like that.
“Your Majesty,” Ludmila said, “I understand that this was a play, but some of the things that were shown and discussed were of great interest to me.”
“Oh? Do tell.”
“In particular, a specific term: karma. Your Majesty, Your Majesty’s vassals, and various members of the royal household have mentioned it before. Additionally, I’ve heard of it in passing before coming to Nazarick. It is a concept that the moral philosophy known as Buddhism works with. Karma seems central to many things, yet it is somehow unknown to the major religions of the region.”
Ludmila’s expectant look turned tentative when the Sorcerer King didn’t immediately answer. He had so casually mentioned karma in the past that she didn’t think that it would give him pause now.
“So,” he said after several moments, “Buddhism has spread to this part of the world, hm?”
“Yes, Your Majesty,” Ludmila said. “Is that a problem?”
“Not in itself, no,” the Sorcerer King replied, then chuckled for some reason. “I suppose it isn’t very popular around here.”
“It is not, Your Majesty. As a whole, Buddhism seems like a huge ask for the average person. It promotes a philosophical outlook and value system that is alien to what most people in the region are brought up to believe in.”
“You’ve made a study of it?”
“Insofar as to how it might affect tactical and strategic considerations…but there seems to be much more to it than I initially thought.”
The Sorcerer King fell silent again. He sat perfectly still; the crimson points of his eyes dimmed as if he was considering matters of profound importance.
“You may think of Karma as a ‘system’,” he finally said. “It is often measured as a score: the sum of one’s actions according to, well, as the princess in the play put it, the ‘cosmic order’.”
“So it’s a measure of good and evil?” Ludmila asked.
“It is what it is,” the Sorcerer King answered with a shrug, “though most would interpret it as you’ve suggested. A side-effect of how one is brought up to think in the region.”
“I pray that Your Majesty would see fit to bless me with the correct understanding of this system.”
“Do you, now? Well, this might be an amusing conversation. Tell me, Baroness: what is good, and what is evil?”
Ludmila opened her mouth to answer, then closed it with a frown. The more she thought about the Sorcerer King’s question, the harder it was to answer.
“You seem troubled,” the Sorcerer King said. “You are a religious woman…should the answer not be simple?”
“Once, it might have been,” Ludmila replied. “When I was just a child; before I started to learn from my parents. After that…you mentioned religion, but the Faith of the Six never quite made perfect sense. I know that our village Priest, Bohdan, had to adapt the Scriptures as a missionary to a foreign culture, but even his lifetime’s worth of work resulted in teachings that weren’t entirely in line with the lives that we had on the frontier.”
Was that blasphemy? She waited for her god to strike her down, but He remained silent as if waiting for her to explain herself.
“Life on the frontier forces one to look outward,” she continued. “Understanding one’s neighbours is crucial to dealing with them efficiently. This was especially important in our situation. The Faith of the Six, as conveyed by Priest Bohdan, was formulated for a Human society that held Human survival as its central concern. That narrative, however, relied upon one’s ignorance of the world beyond Human lands.
“Our version – Bohdan’s version – never presented non-Humans as an enemy to be eliminated at all costs, but it did tell a tale where Humanity was hunted to near-extinction by other races. A little bit of research; a Merchant friend or a life living with Demihuman neighbours; proved this assertion of a wholly hostile world to be false. It is a competitive world, yes, but not one filled with unthinking, unfeeling monsters devoid of any and all empathy for anything but their own kind.”
“In that case,” the Sorcerer King said, “why did your people continue to practise the Faith of the Six?”
“Because, ultimately, it is a religion for Humans – one that made far more sense than the heresy that caused the schism. Also, much like other rural territories, the faith of the local Priest determined the faith of the community. Those of the urban clergy may decry this as the thinking of an infidel, but faith without works is dead.”
“Then, ultimately,” the Sorcerer King asked, “where has your journey of faith led you?”
“My journey has not come to an end yet, Your Majesty,” Ludmila said. “At this juncture, however, reality demands reform. More accurately, the wisdom of the gods has always been subject to the interpretation of those who have followed it and those interpretations can be flawed. Revelations require us to review our understanding of divine wisdom. I believe that the Faith of the Six still is, for the most part, the best option going forward, but the current Human-centric iteration isn’t suited for the Sorcerous Kingdom with its multitude of races.”
“You mean to say that you wish to institute the Faith of the Six as the state religion of the Sorcerous Kingdom?”
“As a secular state, the Sorcerous Kingdom cannot have a state religion. I also happen to agree that faith should not directly interfere with matters of the state. But the citizens need something. Tribal shamanism and religious practices driven by baseless superstition are woefully insufficient to face modern realities and are ultimately harmful to the society that Your Majesty wishes to create.”
“So you still wish to have the entire population follow the Faith of the Six.”
“Not through any forceful measures, Your Majesty,” Ludmila said. “Religious freedom is guaranteed by the laws of the Sorcerous Kingdom. I simply believe that the truth will attend to itself so long as it isn’t suppressed…but, first, we must understand the truth.”
“Which brings us back to the Karma System,” the Sorcerer King said.
“Yes, Your Majesty.”
Ludmila was pleasantly surprised to find both her physical and spiritual form still in one piece. She had spoken out of conviction alone, yet, despite this, she was half certain that it would end with the termination of her existence.
“In my experience,” she said, “the definition of ‘good’ and ‘evil’ depends on one’s species. For lack of a better way to describe it, one relies on empathy to judge actions. Empathy, however, is subjective. What is sickening to a Human may be laudable to a Dragon. Even ‘standards’ between Humanoid races can vary wildly and races that seem very different may end up being remarkably similar. Relying on such subjective measures will pull our society in countless different directions and we will never arrive at a morality that everyone can accept. The existence of a Karma System implies that there is an objective measure that we may rely upon instead.”
“Well,” the Sorcerer King said, “that just skipped a good chunk of the conversation.”
“My most sincere apologies, Your Majesty.”
“I must warn you that you may not find the answer pleasing.”
“The truth is under no obligation to please me, Your Majesty.”
“Then I will first tell you that the Karma System only demands that people be what they are,” the Sorcerer King told her. “A Karma Score is the net sum of one’s actions according to the nature of their race. It is not something that will ‘fix’ everyone: you will still have to deal with the realities of every race in the Sorcerous Kingdom to ensure the development of the harmonious society that we pursue. For instance, what do you think Shalltear’s Karma Score is?”
Lady Shalltear patted down her dress and smiled up at her. Ludmila wasn’t sure how that was supposed to help.
“I would guess it is what would be considered appropriate for an Undead being who participates regularly in civil society,” Ludmila said. “Unfortunately, I don’t know what that ‘score’ is.”
“It’s negative four hundred fifty,” the Sorcerer King told her. “By Human standards, that is indistinguishable from pure evil. Does she seem that way to you?”
“No, Your Majesty. I always had the sense that she was an evil individual by Human standards, but she doesn’t seem to be what Humans would consider ‘pure evil’.”
“Why do you suppose that is?”
Ludmila examined Lady Shalltear more closely. She looked even better when she tried to gauge how in line she was with His Majesty’s Will. Was it her Undead state that was influencing her assessment of her liege? No, she was certain that she had always felt more or less the same way about Lady Shalltear.
She considered all of the other Undead she had interacted with since the advent of the Sorcerous Kingdom. Not only the Undead, but also the Demons, Devils, and other creatures that humanity labelled as evil. None of them acted as people believed that they did – at least not in public.
Then what am I missing?
“One’s Karma Score indicates one’s inclinations and perception relative to other points on the scale,” Ludmila said. “It does not indicate one’s penchant for order and chaos. If karma measures an individual according to some ‘cosmic order’, then the further one is from where they are supposed to be, the more likely they are to be a chaotic element in the system.”
This can work.
If her answer was correct, then achieving a harmonious, multiracial society was far easier than anyone could have thought. It was just something that no one who was raised in the region would have ever considered. As she turned her attention to the Sorcerer King to learn more, excitement welled within her as she envisioned so many of her problems melting away like a morning mist. Truly, His Majesty’s wisdom was boundless.