Chapter 2

“You grew feathers.”

“I didn’t grow them.”

Xoc flicked an ear in annoyance as she came out of her home and into the morning light. Several days had passed since she had sent invitations to the lords of the nearby cities through Merchants plying Ocelo Pa’chan’s growing trade network. In the meantime, the world seemed to constantly find things for her to do, definitively proving that there was no way she could leave the city to represent her clan when they sent their material support to the eastern front.

“They should be here any day now,” she said.

“Who?” Winter Moon asked.

“The…the…the…whoever! Those lords from the nearby towns and cities who wanted to see me.”

“Don’t you have some better way to keep track of them? In many of the other places that I’ve visited, there are protocols for this sort of thing…”

“The warrior clans use runners,” Xoc said, “but we don’t have any who can travel faster than a river barge yet. We don’t have time to spare for anything fancy, either.”

In hindsight, confirming audiences through her Merchants might not have been the best of ideas. From what she had seen of the civilian lords when they came to the city, they had lofty – and expensive – tastes. Shipping them back to her along with a boatload of meat wasn’t exactly the most glamorous mode of travel and the clanholds they were accustomed to staying in had been occupied by refugees from the flooded areas of the city.

“Actually,” Xoc looked up at Winter Moon, “could you help entertain them?”

“Me? Why?”

“Because you’re a Bard? Aren’t Bards supposed to love that kind of thing?”

“Don’t you have any Bards of your own? You have nearly a hundred thousand subjects these days.”

“To be honest,” Xoc replied, “I’ve been so busy that I haven’t given that particular side of things any thought.”

“Then, couldn’t you just put up a posting for one?”

“A what?”

“It’s something that Humans do. If they need something, they’ll put it in writing in a public place for people to see. That way, they don’t need to chase people around.”

“That sounds convenient,” Xoc admitted, “but no one can read here. Except for the Humans. Maybe that’s why Humans do it?”

Generally speaking, Humans seemed extraordinarily capable. From what she had seen, they were better than Beastmen at almost everything.

“It’s not as if Humans are born knowing how to read,” Winter Moon said. “They use criers to reach the illiterate.”

“I don’t have any criers,” Xoc said.

“Then hire some?”

“The criers that the warrior clans use are all highly skilled, though…”

“That’s because they’re Bards,” Winter Moon told her.

Xoc stared up at Winter Moon.

“...so you’re telling me to use Bards to find Bards.”

“Simple, isn’t it?”

“But I don’t have any Bards!”

“Then hire some.”

She glared at Winter Moon.

“I know I’m not exactly sophisticated in your eyes, but I still don’t like being made fun of.”

“I’m not making fun of you,” Winter Moon replied. “Beastmen aren’t born as Bards, so you just have to make some. If people do things as a thing, then they become the thing or something.”

“Is that how you became a Bard?” Xoc asked, “Someone hired you?”

“No. I became a Bard because I felt like it.”

“…what are you doing up here, anyways? I thought you’d be wandering around outside of the city as usual.”

“Vltava wanted to check on some of the stuff up here before your renovations accidentally destroyed them,” Winter Moon replied.

“We wouldn’t destroy something valuable on purpose,” Xoc said. “Where’s Vltava right now?”

Winter Moon turned and walked in the direction of one of the old ruins on the top level of the clanhold. They went around to the back of a half-buried pyramid, where Xoc was surprised to find it wasn’t buried anymore.

“You dug all of this up?” Xoc asked.

“Vltava summoned an Earth Elemental to do it,” Winter Moon replied. “He hasn’t had any luck yet.”

Luck with what?

It wasn’t as if her clanhold was some long abandoned ruin. On the contrary, it was part of the bustling metropolis in the heart of Rol’en’gorek. The ground that Vltava had excavated was created by the slow buildup of soil over the generations, so anything of value should have long been discovered and sold at market.

Xoc peeked over the edge of the hole, watching Vltava, Pinecone, and Pebble pore over a section of exposed wall. It looked like they were pulling out bricks that protruded slightly at regular intervals. Pebble yanked one out and examined it for a few moments before adding it to a small pile of similar objects.

“Are they old carvings?” Xoc asked.

“Yes,” Pebble answered. “But they are not only that.”

“That one looks promising,” Winter Moon said.

“Which one?”

“That one. No, higher. Higher. Lower. Lower. Now left. Too far. You overshot. Too far again. Back…argh!”

With a frustrated noise, Winter Moon hopped into the pit. She reached out to grab a brick that Xoc was fairly sure wasn’t there before and tossed it over to Vltava. The ball of fluff caught the object and held it up to his central eye.

“It lives,” he said.

“It’s a block of stone,” Xoc said.

“Yes.”

Xoc backed away cautiously as Vltava floated out of the pit. She tucked her tail away protectively as he alighted in front of her, but he seemed disinterested in biting it. Instead, the ornery little thing continued examining the brick in the sunlight. Xoc leaned in as close as she dared, eyeing the carvings on the piece of masonry.

“What’s so different about this brick?” She asked.

“The others in that pile down there are next to worthless,” Winter Moon hopped out of the pit.

She didn’t get it. How could Winter Moon figure that out when the thing was still stuck in the wall?

“It is memory,” Vltava told her.

“I can see that,” Xoc replied.

Much like almost everything else on the topmost level of the clanhold, the brick was covered in carvings that told some tale from the distant past. Xoc couldn’t read what was written on them, but, as a child, she liked to imagine what was going on in each of the scenes.

Vltava’s quiet displeasure at her reply was palpable. Xoc hid her tail again.

“It would be better if we just showed her,” Pinecone said. “She lacks the vocabulary and conceptual framework of her ancestors.”

If Xoc didn’t know any better, she would have taken the words as an insult. According to Saraca and his companions, Winter Moon’s mysterious party were members of an ancient civilisation that had existed for millennia, if not longer. Pretty much everyone else was a primitive to them – even people from the Beastman Confederacy who seemed unfathomably advanced to Xoc.

To the ignorant, they didn’t look much different aside from being members of another group of races. Whenever they spoke, however, all sorts of incomprehensible gibberish came out. Sometimes, it even felt as if they were speaking straight to her soul.

Vltava made his way back around the pyramid, leading them to the fountain in the middle of the central plaza where Xoc usually held court. The location had always been kept neat and tidy by the residents, but it became utterly pristine once she announced her intentions to rebuild ocelo Pa’chan. Unfortunately, no one could figure out how to get the fountain working again – not even the skilled artisans from the Draconic Kingdom – so it mostly served as a giant stone basin that collected rainwater. At least it looked nice: someone had even added fish and water lilies to it.

“What now?” Xoc asked.

In response, Vltava removed a blanket covering one of the benches surrounding the old fountain. Much like their surroundings, the fountain and its benches bore intricate carvings and writing that she couldn’t read. Vltava summoned a small Water Elemental and proceeded to meticulously scour the surface of the bench with it, removing generations of hard buildup that Xoc hadn’t realised was there.

“Why not just use a Clean spell?” Winter Moon asked.

“The effect is reliant on the caster,” Vltava answered. “It ‘cleans’ what is ‘dirty’. Without understanding what one’s target *is*, the spell can be destructive.”

“I see.”

Xoc didn’t, but she knew better than to say anything. By the time the bench was cleaned to Vltava’s satisfaction, they had drawn a small crowd of people, including Elder Patli.

“Good morning, il-Enxoc.”

“Good morning, Patli.”

“What’s going on here?”

“I have no idea. Can you explain this to us, Winter Moon?”

“No.”

“An unlikely hope,” Pebble told her. “This device is so large that the destroyers of this place may not have recognised it for what it is.”

“What is it?” Xoc asked.

“The upper level of your clanhold is a repository. A composite of various magical devices. Each block is imbued with memories of the past. Normally, one may access these memories without needing to remove the blocks, but most of the devices that make up the greater device have been ruined beyond repair. This interface may still be functional: if it is, we will be able to access the contents of this block of memory.”

She exchanged a look of confusion with Elder Patli. As usual, the words of the Krkonoše were incomprehensible even when they used terms that she should have been able to understand.

“I’ve not heard of anything remotely like you described,” Elder Patli said, “but I don’t like the implications.”

“Y-You mean we were attacked to destroy this ‘repository’ that they mentioned?” Xoc said.

You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.

“That is incorrect,” Pebble said. “But it is also not far from the truth. The civilisation of your ancestors was not just destroyed – measures were taken to erase any memory of its existence.”

Xoc’s jaw fell open in horrified grief. Why would anyone do such a thing? Ever since Saraca and his party appeared, she had learned many disturbing things. The more she learned, the more she grasped the sheer depths of the evil that had been visited upon Rol’en’gorek.

“Evil Deities indeed,” she muttered. “Does that mean we can find out who did this?”

“The chances of that are slim,” Pebble said. “It is but one block out of millions, after all.”

After examining the bench for several minutes, Vltava placed the block of memory on a square nested among the carvings. They waited expectantly for something to happen, but nothing did.

“Broken,” Vltava said. “The receptacle does not activate.”

“Can you fix it?” Xoc asked.

“It is not something to be fixed,” Pinecone said. “Only replaced. That is the greatest weakness of magical technology. Unlike mundane objects, there are no parts to repair. A broken magical item simply becomes inert. The society that once existed here could be destroyed so thoroughly because of this: the prerequisite to maintaining magical technology is the civilisation that gave rise to that technology. Once the chain has been shattered, it cannot be reforged.”

“But…”

A miserable feeling settled over her. What if all of their efforts were doomed from the start? If they fought off starvation, rallied their neighbours, and prevailed over the Undead, would something even worse come around to trample over all of their triumphs to bury them once again?

“We may be able to find a functional device elsewhere,” Pinecone offered. “If contingency protocols were left behind, Rol’en’gorek may once again return to a semblance of its former state.”

“Would the destroyers not have done the same thing everywhere?” Elder Patli asked.

“They would have certainly tried,” Pinecone answered. “After investigating the area, however, we have developed a fair idea of how strong these ‘Evil Deities’ were.”

Xoc’s eyes grew wide.

“Really?”

“They vary in strength, but the damage that we examined suggests that, together, Vltava and Winter Moon could have safely defeated them one at a time. This is in line with the lore of the region concerning the Demon Gods. The Frost Giants of the Azerlisia Mountains were too strong for them to defeat, while the races of the lowlands were eventually able to put together a strike force to vanquish them. What is important here is that their level of strength is insufficient to visit complete destruction over a large area.”

She looked around at the ruined and half-ruined structures surrounding the plaza.

“This destruction was complete enough to ruin my people,” Xoc said.

“This city is the heart of the civilisation that once existed here,” Pebble said. “That makes it a priority target. It would take centuries for beings possessing the power of the Demon Gods to level every square metre of the jungle. Much like the other places that they destroyed, we believe they focused on cities and other well-developed areas, leaving the rural population to rebuild and recover after they left.”

“Just how many places did they destroy?”

“Going by the tales that I’ve collected,” Winter Moon said, “an area roughly five times the size of Rol’en’gorek. Believe it or not, most of the damage was done north along the coast, so it’s unlikely that they appeared to specifically persecute your people.”

It didn’t help their present situation, but it did make her feel a bit better. The Bards always told tales of how Rol’en’gorek had been abandoned by their neighbours to face the Demon Gods alone. She disliked the idea that the world could be such a hateful place that everyone could simply stand by and watch an entire civilisation burn. That it wasn’t true gave her hope that their normally hostile neighbours might actually heed her warnings and come together to fight the Undead.

“So you plan on searching for something the Demon Gods might have missed on the fringes of Rol’en’gorek?” Elder Patli asked

“Our best chances lie out there, yes,” Pebble answered.

I guess we won’t be seeing each other again for a while…

“Wait a minute,” Xoc asked, “did you know about this when Saraca’s group was around?”

“Yes,” Winter Moon answered.

“Then why didn’t you tell them about it? Karuvaki and Mitra were turning the place upside down looking for any hints of my people’s history.”

The atmosphere cooled considerably. Winter Moon looked away with a disgusted noise while Vltava regarded Xoc with all three of his eyes. The unusual stare was more than a bit disconcerting.

“It is your legacy to inherit,” Vltava told her. “Not theirs to take.”

What did that mean? Saraca and his people had been nothing if not helpful. She didn’t mind if they got something out of it. They didn’t exactly come across as thieves, either.

“Il-Enxoc!”

Xoc turned at the sound of Chimali’s voice. Her childhood friend panted as he dragged himself into the plaza.

“What’s wrong? Xoc asked.

“What’s wrong?”

Chimali’s gaze wandered around the court before his eyes settled on Elder Patli.

“Ah,” Elder Patli, “I came up to tell you that a ship was coming up the river, but I was distracted by the…the…thing.”

“What thing?” Chimali’s tail rose curiously.

“I-It’s not important right now,” Xoc said. “You mentioned something about a ship?”

“This morning’s shipment from upriver is arriving as scheduled,” Chimali said. “There’s a big, flashy fellow standing on the bow, so it looks like they managed to get at least one of the clanlords to come along.”

“How many people did he bring?”

“Your father is greeting them at the landing. He insisted on handling that sort of thing.”

That seemed reasonable. He was an innkeeper, after all. She had never asked whether her father missed his old work or not, but he had quietly supported her anyway.

“We shouldn’t make them wait,” Xoc said, “let’s go.”

“It would be better to receive them up here,” Chimali told her.

“What? Why? It’d be rude to make them come to us. They came from so far away already…”

“It’s a matter of positioning,” Chimali said. “You have something that they want, so they should come to you. You are in the superior position and must act the part. Oh, Winter Moon, you should be close at hand during this.”

“Why?”

“A mysterious Bard from a foreign court will add to our prestige. Also, we can have Vltava sit on the great il-Enxoc’s lap–”

“Would you like to experience the sensation of incineration, you moronic mewling?”

Vltava cut Chimali’s suggestions short before he got even more carried away. A group of short figures in the corner of Xoc’s vision caught her attention.

“Look,” Xoc said, “there are still Humans wandering around. I need to go and stall for time.”

“I can–”

Xoc ignored Chimali’s protests as she walked past him. There were limits to how pretentious she could be.

Their guests were still disembarking from the newly arrived barge when Xoc stepped onto the sweeping balcony overlooking the Cuorocos Cliffs. It took her a moment to spot the visiting lord amongst the dozen or so Ocelo retainers that had accompanied him. All of them came dressed as members of the urban elite, draped in rich furs adorned in colourful feathers and jewellery.

“Do we have a name for this guy?” Xoc asked as she watched her father receive the visitors.

“We do,” Chimali said. “This ship runs the Atazli route, so the biggest fellow down there should be Enmatzli, the principal administrator of the city under ocelo Atazli.”

“Who are those people in his retinue? They’re too dressed up for regular servants.”

“We’re not sure,” Chimali admitted. “My guess is that he rounded up what notables he could for clout. Only one or two of them have the look of lords.”

If they had the look of lords, it was only a little. Even Enmatzli was barely a head taller than a regular Ocelo, so he might have been casually mistaken for a warrior from a prosperous clan.

Notables…I wonder if Enmatzli had to deal with the local gangs, too.

Xoc’s father led the visiting delegation to the wharf’s cargo lift, which had recently been completed and deemed safe for regular operations. Their guests all hesitated to step into the bamboo cafe, though after watching their baggage get loaded onto it and conveyed to the top of the cliffs, a few of them seemed almost eager to experience it for themselves.

“Those ones must be Merchants,” Chimali said.

“How do you figure?” Xoc asked

“They became excited when they recognised the lift,” Chimali answered. “A device like this represents great savings in time and labour.”

“In short, they all want to know how they can profit from it.”

The light scratching of Chimali’s claws joined the sound of the wind as he kneaded the stone railing.

“Master Leeds says that this is another thing that our clan may benefit from. I do not know if something similar to our lift exists elsewhere in Rol’en’gorek, but we can install and operate them wherever they’re feasible and collect tolls that Merchants would be more than happy to pay.

“You shouldn’t be so focused on profit with this crisis looming over everyone’s heads,” Xoc said.

“If it puts things more and more under our control,” Chimali said, “I don’t see why we shouldn’t. We are the ones most suited to dealing with this crisis, after all.”

She doubted that the lords of Rol’en’gorek would readily agree with Chimali’s reasoning. The Confederation was exactly that: a collection of independent clans that worked together to tackle common issues. It wasn’t some sort of super clan that took orders from a single lord. Master Leeds’ idea of turning her into an Empress or whatever didn’t worry her much due to that.

The first set of guests arrived at the top of the cliff, immediately pouring out to investigate the surroundings. They were all too quick to identify the mechanism that powered the lift: a set of four treadwheels operated by a crew of Nar. The poor labourers were immediately assailed with multiple questions from every direction.

Xoc rushed over before the Nar decided to flee and leave the lift disabled. She did her best not to squirm when the Merchants gazed up at her with awestruck looks and all but stepped on one another trying to sort themselves out. They were still quietly arguing by the time the lift arrived again. To Xoc’s great displeasure, Enmatzli strode forward and loosed a torrent of words that were about as pleasant to her as the garbage washed downstream by the floods.

“By all of the gods,” he placed a paw over his chest, “I never knew such noble beauty existed so close to Atazli! No, going by the rumours of what had befallen the city, your presence can be the only explanation as to how order has been maintained.”

Xoc stood in a dumbfounded stupor, wondering what new form of stupidity had manifested before her. To her misfortune, Winter Moon took the opportunity to escalate the situation. The Bard’s rolling voice seemed to shake the very core of Xoc’s being, freezing their guests in place as she spoke.

“You are in the presence of il-Enxoc ocelo Pa’chan, Vanquisher of the Xigaoli Hordes, Harbinger of Order, Bringer of Knowledge, Restorer of Clanholds, Unifier of the North, and rightful ruler of Ghrkhor’storof’hekheralhr and all of its subject territories. Supplicate yourselves before Her Majesty and be recognised!”

Enmatzli and his entourage immediately went to all fours, lowering their heads with their tails tucked between their legs. Not only that, members of her clan nearby stopped what they were doing to kneel in her direction.

“Oh, il-Enxoc,” Enmatzli’s voice rose from the newly-cut pavement, “word of your wisdom and the ingenuity of ocelo Pa’chan has spread far and wide. On behalf of the people of Atazli, this Enmatzli humbly beseeches your benevolence in these dire days!”

Can I go back to bed now?

She didn’t want to sink any deeper into the madness that seemed to have claimed everyone around her. It would hopefully go away after sleeping for a few hours, but that probably wasn’t an option.

“Welcome to Ghrkhor’storof’hekheralhr, Enmaztli,” she said. “Your concern for our people is one that I share, but I fear that these dire days may be more dire than you think. However, with the initiative of good lords like yourself, we may yet weather the trials ahead.”

Where did those words come from?

Something was making her more lordly than she ought to be, and the thought frightened her.

“You may raise your heads,” Winter Moon intoned.

A lump formed in the pit of Xoc’s stomach as Enmaztli and his party rose to their feet. The sparkly look in their eyes had gotten five times worse. Chimali stepped forward and presented himself with a respectful bow.

“I am Chimali, a confidante of the great il-Enxoc. Some of Atazli’s future needs are known to us, but not all of them. We have organised a tour of our markets for this morning to explore this, followed by lunch in il-Enxoc’s court. After that, we will go farther afield to visit some of the facilities that you may have already heard of. This way, please.”

With a handful of smooth gestures, Chimali managed to divide their procession into three groups. He gathered the energetic Merchants in the front, leaving Xoc and Winter Moon with Enmatzli and his accompanying lords. Two patrols were conjured from nearby to form an escort. It all seemed haphazard to Xoc, but their guests appeared to be genuinely impressed.

“I must admit that I’ve never been welcomed in this manner, il-Enxoc,” Enmatzli said.

“It must seem wasteful to you in these troubling times,” Xoc said.

“Wasteful?” Enmatzli scoffed, “Not at all! This is exactly what we need these days. Order. Purpose. I can feel the confidence in your rule exuding from each and every citizen. To battle the forces of chaos is every lord’s lot, and you seem to be succeeding where anyone should understandably fail.”

She tried to think of a way to downplay her ‘success’, but the other lords nodded in agreement.

“How much have you heard about the situation here, Enmatzli?” Xoc asked.

“A little bit here and there,” Enmatzli answered. “The flooding has taken a third of Atazli, so we knew that the lands around the lake would suffer far more. To make things worse, Ghrkhor’storof’hekheralhr had no presiding warrior clan to maintain order. In all honesty, we fully expected this place to become a lawless wasteland by now. It is a testament to ocelo Pa’chan’s prowess that the opposite has occurred.”

“Il-Enxoc was recently challenged,” Winter Moon said.

“Hoh, what happened?”

“A major gang had taken control of the neighbouring clanhold, holding sway over thirty thousand or more. They thought to move on ocelo Pa’chan’s more recently established operations, but they were destroyed in a single night.”

Enmatzli and his retinue gaped at the account.

“A single–can it be true? From a clan unknown to us until recently?”

“Many claim that it was as if the Demon Gods returned in all of their wrath.”

What are you saying?!

“W-We did hear something like that,” Enmatzli seemed to shrink, “but we had dismissed it as nonsensical gossip.”

“That gang shattered shortly after,” Winter Moon said. “Many fragmented groups that were once a part of their number have sworn themselves to il-Enxoc. You may question them if you wish.”

Enmatzli looked Xoc up and down before hastily replying.

“There is little reason for us to doubt your claim,” he said. “Il-Enxoc is clearly a mighty lord and her clan is undoubtedly just as formidable. It pleases us to have such powerful allies.”

Since when did we become allies?

An uneasy feeling filled her as she pondered the connotations of Enmatzli’s statement. Technically, the Confederation of Rol’en’gorek was an alliance between the kingdoms, clans, and tribes of the jungle basin, but this was always treated as a given. No one went out of their way to emphasise that relationship.