Chapter 12

16th Day, Lower Wind Month, 1 CE

Extirpated.

Extirpated.

Extirpated.

Extirpated...

Florine released a sad sigh. Over the past week, she spent her time studying the materials that Lady Albedo had provided her, but it was only enough time to cover the surviving tribes of the Abelion Hills. She intended to review the rest after that, but the list was both daunting and depressing.

Of roughly ninety different races dwelling in the Abelion Hills, over seventy had been extirpated. Most of the population was wiped out during Jaldabaoth’s ruthless occupation before the invasion of the Holy Kingdom of Roble. The Gan Zu Tribe’s accounts of that period made her vomit several dozen times, but she forced herself to come back and keep listening for as many days as it took to relate their experiences.

A not insignificant portion of the remaining population of the Abelion Hills had been expended as ‘war potential’ in the conflict with their Human neighbours. Strength only served to deliver one into the meat grinder that was the war in the Holy Kingdom. Any of the strong that remained managed to do so through a combination of stubborn refusal to participate in a foreign war and the fact that their jailors were more interested in extending their torment for as long as possible than they were killing them, which would end their ‘fun’.

So much had been lost. Some of the racial dossiers only contained the name of the species and the probable location of their former homes. A few didn’t even have that, their pages only containing a vague awareness that something had existed at some point. The ones of surviving races were presented in the sterile format of the central administration, which emphasised threat profiles, resource consumption, and productive potential.

There aren’t even any pictures…

The physical descriptions were poor, leaving much to the imagination. Florine wondered if the administration would be willing to hire Bards to render portraits in the future.

Outside the window, a raven called, heralding the coming of dawn. Florine stirred from her spot in the hall.

“I need to go now,” she said softly.

After a moment, the bower of flowers, vines, and branches around her unfurled. While not all explicitly friendly, Glasir’s plants – or were they Lord Mare’s? – made for good study companions.

According to the Dryad, some responded to her warmth. Others were more opportunistic, seeing her as something that attracted food. The more feely ones were ‘grazing’ for edibles such as bits of dirt, dead skin, sweat, and oil.

Since Florine didn’t act in any harmful way, their curiosity quickly overcame caution and she had become well acquainted with them over the course of the week. They were all intelligent in their plant-like way, and some of them even seemed to understand her speech. The Ghost Tongue from before clearly remembered her.

Too bad there aren’t any plant races out there – they’re so easy to get along with.

A part of her hoped that they had simply gone unnoticed by Jaldabaoth and his minions, but, if they had gone unnoticed by the Sorcerous Kingdom’s forces, chances of her detecting them were slim to none.

Florine rose to her feet and stretched before brushing off her skirts. She walked over to the office where Ludmila was hard at work.

“Good morning,” Ludmila greeted her before she entered the office.

“Good morning,” Florine smiled. “Need any help?”

“I’m just reviewing surplus inventories,” Ludmila replied. “The trainee Rangers are too industrious for the Alchemists to keep up with and Miss Pam’s in the upper reaches speculates that some of the tribes may start trading with the town, as well. Add the Orcs to the mix…”

“Why not just export the surplus?” Florine asked, “The increase in demand for alchemical products in the Empire also means that the price of reagents has gone up, as well.”

“I should consult with Miss LeNez about what to do before anything else,” Ludmila answered. “We haven’t explored all of our options yet. The Faculty of Alchemy has proposed all sorts of experiments that use up reagents, and the tribes may have something to offer, as well.”

“Liane always cries about lost profits when it comes to research and development,” Florine said.

“Yet she invests in it anyway,” Ludmila said. “The traditions of her house have served it well in that aspect, at least.”

Florine cringed at the memory of the argument she had with her mother over investing in the development of the new wagons and barges. While ‘pure’ Merchants saw innovation as a potential avenue for profit, not many would give up profits in pursuit of innovation. That sort of thing was the realm of Nobles and other ‘fools’ who had nothing better to do with their money. Of course, once any innovation was proven to be profitable, they would shamelessly hop on board the very ship that they previously scoffed at.

The same could be said for many things. Economic policy was left to administrators, yet Merchants railed at taxes and tariffs that cut into their profits. The Guild as a whole championed the cause of Merchants, pressuring local governments for legislation that favoured their businesses.

In hindsight, the idea that Merchants were parasites was not far off the mark in the perception of many Nobles. The fact had probably gone unnoticed for so long because Florine and her friends were on both ‘sides’. Merchants didn’t invest in infrastructure and security, only paying for its maintenance if they were forced to. Profit-seeking behaviour was considered normal and healthy and they would mercilessly employ their abilities whenever they thought they could get away with it.

Since they filled an essential niche in society, the battle between the Merchant Guild and local governments was endless. Merchant Nobles like Florine and her friends were a rarity in the region, though there were tales of great merchant empires in the world beyond.

I wonder if Guildmaster Hoffmann has tried petitioning the Royal Court yet…

Probably not. Despite its outwardly-benevolent appearance, the Sorcerous Kingdom was ruled with an iron fist. People were what they were and they were expected to do what they were supposed to do. While Florine might be expected to offer candid feedback on administrative and diplomatic matters, commenting on the workings of, say, the Royal Army would see her swiftly censured. A Guildmaster trying to influence government policy probably wouldn’t survive the experience unless they explicitly stayed within certain lines.

“Breakfast?” Florine asked.

“Sure,” Ludmila set down the folder in her hand. “I’m sorry – I’m used to Aemilia being away and Lluluvien does more work for the Royal Army than the household now.”

Since Florine was about to set off for the Abelion Wilderness, Tierre accompanied Aemilia back to E-Rantel the previous day.

“Don’t worry about it,” Florine replied. “How is Aemilia’s training going, by the way?”

“She’s experiencing the same issue that the other Acolytes are,” Ludmila said. “Their physical growth far outstrips their academic growth.”

“Isn’t that because they’re being trained against Elder Liches or going to the Katze Plains every day?” Florine said, “Why not just schedule more classroom hours?”

“It’s the ‘empty container’ problem,” Ludmila replied, “except in reverse. Having more levels makes them better at what they do, including the depth of knowledge they can inherently grasp. Levelling faster drags up their proficiency faster than it can be developed normally, and those in civilian settings aren’t in a situation where being an ‘empty container’ ends up being fatal. Therefore, it’s better to level first and learn later.”

Even so, it seemed that people usually never took advantage of that luxury. Warden’s Vale was a true anomaly in that sense. With the advent of the Sorcerous Kingdom, the tiny population had ridiculous amounts of wealth and they used it to enact the tenets of their faith. Whether it was subsidised by House Zahradnik or paid for out of pocket, Ludmila’s subjects pursued self-improvement with a religious fervour that outsiders might consider zealotry.

Those subjects were out and about the square even now, readying themselves for the day. The ones that passed them by bobbed their heads and offered a respectful, if casual greeting.

That was something else that was odd about Warden’s Vale. The usually unfathomable gap between commoners and aristocrats didn’t seem to exist. It was a place where being a Noble was just another job in a place where everyone was expected to do their jobs. No matter how friendly Florine was, she couldn’t achieve the same relaxed atmosphere in Gagnier Barony that existed in Ludmila’s demesne.

Considering that all of Ludmila’s subjects were immigrants from the interior, it meant that Ludmila had successfully ‘rewritten’ the highly-stratified culture of Re-Estize that the people had brought with them. The industrious, orderly society that Florine saw now was likely closer to what existed in Warden’s Vale before the Battle of Katze Plains. She wondered if the same might have been achieved had it not been so difficult to attract migrants to the frontier, or if the Sorcerous Kingdom never appeared and Clara’s schemes had the time to play out.

Chef Pyrus greeted them at the entrance to his restaurant and they were seated at the large window facing the square. The aroma of battered carp drifted from the kitchen.

“That smells new,” Ludmila said.

“The Lizardmen are starting to thin out their fish farms, my lady,” Chef Pyrus said. “I’m trying out a recipe that’s been on my mind for some time.”

“How are the fish themselves?”

The Chef measured out a length with his palm.

“Well, it’s from a cull so they’re not so large. There’s nothing wrong with them, though. Going by how many the Lizardmen have to sell, we’re going to have to export most of it to Corelyn Harbour.”

“Countess Corelyn has been looking forward to it,” Ludmila said. “I think she has even set aside a berth in the wharf to sell them from.”

“Is that so?” Chef Pyrus rubbed his earlobe, “Too bad the Lizardman Merchants are still too shy to stray too far from home. It’d do a whole lot of good for them to see how the work of their people is appreciated.”

“There’s no need to rush things. Clara’s Merchants can handle business on their end for now. If they can sell most of the fish, word of that success should be encouragement enough.”

Chef Pyrus nodded and returned to his kitchen. Florine sipped gingerly at the cup of steaming tea as she watched the people moving around the square.

“Do you think things will stay the same even after the harbour grows?” Florine asked.

“I’m hoping that things will get even better as the harbour grows,” Ludmila answered. “What you see is merely part of the foundation of what I plan on building.”

“I sort of meant the atmosphere,” Florine said. “Right now, it has something like a comfy rural village feel to it. Most places change as they get bigger. I don’t want to sound pessimistic, but it only feels that, as a place grows larger, the people become more detached from one another. Meaner, even.”

“Well, it’s true that one can only juggle so many close relationships at once,” Ludmila said, “but I’m sure that’s not what you’re referring to.”

Chef Pyrus reappeared with their breakfast. Each plate had two strips of deep-fried battered fish alongside slices of buttered toast. A bowl of Ludmila’s ‘village stew’ accompanied the meal.

“Are we your first test subjects?” Ludmila asked.

A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

“Ah…I guess?” The Chef chuckled, “I’ve been experimenting with the recipe since the Lizardmen started selling fish, but this is the first morning that I’m serving it to the customers, my lady. I hope you enjoy it.”

The door to the restaurant opened and Chef Pyrus left them to greet another set of customers. Florine pushed the edge of her fork into the crust of the battered fish, inhaling the steam that rose from within.

“I don’t think I’ve seen fish prepared this way before,” Ludmila held a strip up in front of her face.

“Maybe it’s from the Holy Kingdom,” Florine offered. “I think they have something like this, but they serve it with fried potatoes.”

“That’s a lot of frying,” her friend muttered. “I wonder where they get the oil from. Anyway, you asked how Warden’s Vale might change as it grows.”

“It’s just a tendency that I’ve observed everywhere that I’ve been,” Florine replied. “Your demesne has a different character from nearly anywhere else, so I was wondering how you thought things would turn out.”

“It has everything to do with what we’ve been discussing on and off over the past week, isn’t it? Reason, perception, and rationality all build off of one another, and how one approaches those things is just as important as achieving them. What you’ve noticed in the cities of Re-Estize and the Empire isn’t inevitable. It is simply the product of culture, and culture is greatly influenced by the systems that make up the society it takes shape in. Those things that you refer to happen because people make them happen, and people who live within such an environment for too long begin to accept it as natural because everything around them reinforces that perception. It’s a cycle that feeds off of itself.”

“But it’s not as if we encourage it,” Florine said. “I wouldn’t ever do anything of the sort!”

“Not knowingly,” Ludmila agreed. “But you do it anyway. It’s a good part of why I decided to broach the topic using what you’re familiar with as a Merchant. To many, growth is the ultimate good, and everything is built around the realisation of growth. It creates a society whose members are continually driven to reach for more and they are blind to the woes that they cause in the process and the fact that it probably wasn’t even needed in the first place. Convenient magic and a seemingly endless world to expand into only serve to make the problem exponentially worse.”

“Then what’s so different about Warden’s Vale?” Florine asked, “What did you do to make it so different from anywhere else?”

“Our perception of the world is different, of course,” Ludmila answered. “Thus our rationality is different and what we consider as ‘good’ is different. The well-being of my people is the goal, not the blind pursuit of growth. No one goes hungry, no one is lonely, and people can actually be satisfied with their lives without the world constantly trying to convince them that they need more to be happy. Above all else, it is self-regulating. I meant what I said when you asked me if I thought the harbour would stay the same even as it grows. What you see here is merely a foundation; what will rise in the future will be better.”

“Liane wouldn’t like that answer,” Florine said. “It would probably give her conniptions.”

The way that Ludmila saw the world was fundamentally different from how Liane did.

Liane broke things down logically, much like how she might work on a machine. Everything was separated into parts and she studied how those parts worked and what they were capable of. Whatever she put together was no more than the sum of its parts and the world was supposed to work according to that analysis.

Ludmila, on the other hand, saw things as wholes. Everything was part of a whole, and the ‘value’ or ‘purpose’ of any given thing was determined by it. Breaking the whole into its parts did not define the whole, because the whole was greater than the sum of its parts and the whole also belonged to a greater whole. This made it very difficult to define anything in what Liane would consider a satisfactory way because those definitions would be variable and ambiguous.

A tree was not simply a resource waiting to be harvested, processed, and delivered to market. It had an entire matrix of connections to the systems that it was a part of, and those connections in turn had their own. Everything was connected to everything, and assigning commercial value to anything potentially blinded one to that and almost certainly cut out the considerations that she considered important while promoting harmful behaviours that they similarly wouldn’t perceive.

Florine couldn’t imagine someone successfully conveying that to the Sorcerous Kingdom’s administration, yet, somehow, Lady Albedo hadn’t come over to personally strangle her. It probably helped that Warden’s Vale was insanely successful.

“Oh, I don’t doubt it,” Ludmila poked at her fish with her fork. “She’s so thoroughly immersed in her own world that anything that goes against what she believes is the truth of things would be considered foolish, naïve, or nonsensical. Probably all three at once. But that’s the greatest problem with the brand of rationality that those like her follow: it only believes in itself. That’s why people just stand around like their brains are melting whenever some ‘impossible’ thing happens in front of their eyes, and it’s why people who present different views have those views dismissed out of hand.”

“You know,” Florine said. “You might have had more success with Liane if you hadn’t broached this topic using something that Merchants were well-versed in.”

“It seemed like a good idea at the time,” Ludmila said. “I’m still of the mind that it was. If I had gotten through to her, what I was trying to get at would have stuck fast.”

“That may be true,” Florine admitted, “but the problem is that it was practically impossible. All it did was further entrench her in her position. I couldn’t get it at all until you applied it to something mostly unrelated to a Merchant’s craft. By the way, does Clara know about this?”

“Of course she does,” Ludmila said.

“Then why didn’t she say anything that day?”

“For the same reason that you just stated,” Ludmila replied with a smirk. “I’m sure that you know that she’s much smarter than I am. I still thought it was worth trying, though.”

Florine rolled her eyes. It was easy to forget since Ludmila was usually so open-minded that ‘stubborn’ was one of her defining traits.

The topic Ludmila had broached with Liane was indeed fundamental to a Merchant’s craft, but she lacked the ability to use it as the subject of the discussion. What she was trying to get across has to do with the nature of reason and perception and how entire civilisations could become drunk on their own rationality, resulting in mass delusions that detached them from reality.

That delusion could be repeatedly broken, yet those trapped in the delusion would remain trapped. Reason would become irrational, offering rationale that reassured them that their delusion was indeed still the comfortable reality that they were familiar with. In the same way, those that they disagreed with or simply didn’t like could be ‘rationalised’ into being wrong. And, when the world came along to permanently dissuade them of that delusion, they would go to the grave screaming that the world itself had gone mad.

Florine shuddered. While she understood its greater implications, the topic still hit far too close to home. Her mother was a painful example of Ludmila’s words in action. The most frightening part was that Florine didn’t know how to fix it. And if she couldn’t help her mother, how could an entire society that constantly reinforced its own beliefs be convinced of its flaws?

Before all that, however, she had to make sure that what they had discussed didn’t interfere with her work. Additionally, if Ludmila’s speculation was correct, it applied to any species capable of reason and could act as a cornerstone for the diplomacy that Florine was trying to build. Diplomacy involved cultivating an understanding between two parties, and, as their time in the Draconic Kingdom had proven, even a nominally Human culture that was different from their own could create all sorts of snags in the diplomatic process if both parties were hung up on their respective views.

Her work in the Abelion Hills would be more of a test than she first imagined it would be. Or, rather than a test, it was a priceless opportunity to develop her capabilities.

Once breakfast was finished, Florine suggested that something citrusy be added as a side to the dish. After that, they boarded a passenger wagon to the Upper Reaches.

“Did you leave anything behind?” Ludmila asked as they rolled out of the village.

“Do you know how much stuff is in this bag?” Florine said, “I don’t think I could remember every little thing even if I tried. I’ve discovered things that have been left in there for half a year.”

“I’m glad to know that I’m not the only one,” Ludmila grinned. “I’d still at least make sure I have the essentials, though.”

Florine spent the rest of the ride fishing various things out of her Infinite Haversack. She scared herself a few times before realising that she had never brought the items in question in the first place.

Once they arrived at the construction camp, they switched to a pair of Soul Eaters and rode to the top of the pass. Since they were limited to the road on the eastern side, the Adventurer Expedition was already partway down the western slope. A few of the Adventurers looked up from their excavation work with suspicious looks.

“Hey, Zahradnik,” Howe, the stern-looking Rogue from the other day, said. “This expedition isn’t actually just you getting us to help build your road, is it?”

“Why would that even cross your mind?” Ludmila frowned.

The Rogue looked pointedly at the toiling Adventurers.

“It’s happened before.”

“It has?”

“Something that I heard,” Howe said. “Before the Empire started poking at us every year, some Nobles would call up a levy just to drum up free labour for construction projects. People would go out to fight a Goblin Army and bam, suddenly they’re mending fences all over the fief.”

“…I think most people would prefer that to fighting a Goblin Army,” Ludmila said, “those things are no joke. That aside, a contract of tenancy can be modified to provide a set amount of labour in lieu of taxes or military service.”

“I wouldn’t know,” Howe shrugged. “Whoever was doing that sure as hell didn’t know, either.”

Florine scrunched up her brow. How could a Noble not know that? There were all sorts of wild stories about Re-Estize and its landed aristocracy, but they were no less wild than the tales of the Empire’s nobility. Either way, the stories were so outrageous that she found it hard to believe that they were anywhere close to the truth.

“Well, that doesn’t happen here,” Ludmila said. “Find anything interesting?”

“More pieces of old road. Those ‘experts’ won’t shut up about how amazing the discovery is, but I don’t know why.”

“Because we barely have any history beyond those of the countries that exist today,” Ludmila told him. “The civilian experts down in the camp say that this road predates the Demon Gods.”

“Okay, and then what?”

“As far as the expedition is concerned, roads lead somewhere. Maybe you’ll find a lost city in that haunted forest down there.”

As one, the Adventurers stopped. They looked up at Ludmila and Florine.

“H-haunted forest as in this forest right here?” Kyla asked.

“That’s right,” Ludmila smiled. “You won’t have to worry about Demihuman tribes here because they all believe that this place is cursed.”

“Why didn’t you say anything about that?!”

“Oh, come now,” Ludmila said. “Where’s your sense of adventure? Oh, on that note, if you run into an Elder Lich or any other intelligent Undead, make sure you try and speak with them first.”

“Argh…a Vampire is going to sneak into my tent, isn’t it? I’m going to wake up to find Alessia standing over me with a wooden stake!”

“This one has quite the imagination,” Alessia said. “A stake is unnecessary.”

“At least deny that you would do it,” Kyla turned pale.

The Paladin turned her attention back to the road.

“Hey, answer me!” Kyla’s voice rose, “We’re friends, right?”

Everyone returned to their work, except Kyla, who was left looking worriedly around her. Ludmila and Florine urged her Soul Eaters past the Adventurers and down the western side of the pass.

“I’m not sure how the Adventurer Guild would market work like that,” Florine said.

“What do you mean?” Ludmila asked.

“It didn’t seem adventurous,” Florine answered. “The way the guild has been advertising, people’s heads are filled with the idea of travelling to unexplored lands alongside strong men and beautiful women. It’s very glamorous.”

“But that’s basically what’s happening here…?”

Florine shook her head. Ludmila was utterly horrible at marketing, as always. Maybe the way that she saw the world simply prevented her from advertising anything other than the absolute truth. Her call for migrants a year ago was laughably bad.

After a casual ride following the trail leading down from the pass, they found themselves along the banks of a large river. On the far bank, the vast grassland they had seen from above stretched beyond the horizon. Ludmila dismounted and held a hand up to Florine.

“I’ll fly you over to the other side,” she said. “Unless you want to ride along the river bottom with the Soul Eaters.”

Florine dismounted, then went stiff and squeezed her eyes shut. Ludmila snorted.

“What are you doing?” She asked.

“I don’t know!” Florine laughed, “There’s no etiquette for this!”

She felt a touch on her left shoulder before she was swept up to be cradled in Ludmila’s arms. Florine opened her eyes a crack, finding them skimming over the river. They alighted on prairie past the opposite shore, where a group of animals bolted at their appearance.

“Wh-what were those?” Florine asked.

“Antelope,” Ludmila answered. “This grassland is filled with wildlife.”

“Is there anything dangerous?”

“Yes, but they won’t challenge a pair of Soul Eaters. If anything happens, the one that you’re riding has instructions to take you to safety while the other one holds off the threat, but I highly doubt it will come to that.”

Florine sighed, staring at the western horizon.

“Are you sure I can do this?”

“Logically speaking,” Ludmila said, “you should. Unless something in your materials suggests otherwise. The Sorcerous Kingdom always places itself in a position of complete control. Most would appreciate the chance to reclaim a bit of that control. Your willingness to candidly work with others is a chance for them to do that.”

“What about the thing that Dyel mentioned?”

“That’s something you have to figure out for yourself. I can hardly expect you to carry yourself as I do, and doing so would be an easily-dispelled lie anyway.”

“No shortcuts, huh.”

“When one is blazing a trail,” Ludmila told her, “it’s up to themselves to find their own shortcuts. Whatever the solution is, it should come naturally to you so don’t inadvertently overcomplicate things. Lady Albedo was absolutely correct to choose you for this battle – there is no better choice in the Sorcerous Kingdom.”