Chapter 9

Ludmila and Florine lingered for a while longer, taking the time to familiarise themselves with the Orc elders before heading back to Warden’s Vale. Nobles normally took the time to memorise those that they recognised as local leaders and promising talents as their itinerant court made its rounds. The Orcish names made things a bit more challenging, but it was a mostly familiar routine in a strange setting.

By the time they returned to her manor, it was well past nightfall. As Glasir mentioned earlier, the plants outside the manor had crawled back into the front window, turning the interior into even more of a jungle than it was before. In contrast to earlier in the spring, insects now added themselves to the hall’s denizens, though they didn’t seem to last very long. Once in a while, leaves rustled as one plant or another devoured those that came too close.

Glasir slept in a box of dirt beside her tree, evidently uncaring of the fact that she was sleeping in the dirt and of the army of insects flitting about. Florine frowned as an especially large and unpleasant-looking bug landed on the Dryad. It instantly died upon touching one of her parasitic vines, its body shrinking until its carapace fragmented and rained onto the dirt.

“It looks more dangerous in here than out there,” Florine said.

“I half expect to find a shrivelled-up Fairy on the floor one of these days,” Ludmila replied.

“You have Fairies here?”

“Not that I’ve noticed,” Ludmila said, "but that doesn't necessarily mean that there aren’t any around."

They went up the stairs, where Ludmila stopped by the war room on the second floor. Lluluvien stood at the head of the table within, flanked by several Elder Liches. Ludmila walked up to examine the map placed upon it.

“Caught up yet?”

“Not yet, my lady,” Lluluvien replied. “The Elder Liches say that it’s becoming increasingly hard to keep up with their movements.”

“Have you been successful at predicting them?”

The Half-Elf Maid let out a weak laugh.

“Not at all. This is very different from herding cats in the Draconic Kingdom. Everyone here is just doing their own thing and nothing is actively pushing them to act. Any predictions are little more than blind guesses.”

“I wouldn’t say that,” Ludmila smirked. “You just haven’t figured out why they’re doing what they’re doing. Keep at it.”

Ludmila watched as Florine examined the map and the markers placed upon it. Like the maps used during the Draconic Kingdom campaign, the Sorcerous Kingdom’s forces were marked with the same red tokens. Additionally, the Orc camp west of Warden’s Vale was marked with a few purple tokens for each group of dwellings. Most of the activity, however, was in the upper reaches of the Katze River.

“May I know what's going on?” Florine asked.

“The tribes are fully active, now,” Ludmila answered. “The command staff is trying to make sense of what they’re doing.”

“So it’s an exercise of some sort?”

Ludmila turned and left the room, gesturing for Florine to join her as she entered the corridor. Florine followed Ludmila up into her room on the third floor.

“Have a seat wherever you’d like,” Ludmila said as she shut the door behind them.

Florine went over to the long pine desk on the northern side of the room. She placed her Infinite Haversack upon it before pulling out the chair at the desk and flipping it around.

“It may sound like an exercise,” Ludmila told her as she activated her Crystal of Silence and placed it on the end table beside her bed, “but what’s happening out there is real.”

“I still don’t know what it is that’s happening.”

“Just the usual seasonal activities,” Ludmila lay back on her bed and stretched. “The tribes of the Upper Reaches are preparing for war.”

“War? But…”

Ludmila smiled slightly at Florine’s uncomfortable reaction.

“That part of the law hasn’t changed, you know,” Ludmila told her.

“I know, but when has it ever happened?”

Violent conflict between Nobles was permitted in certain situations, most of which involved disputes over rightful territorial claims. War could also be waged as a punitive act, but such wars were generally not worth the cost. Most disputes were settled in court, employing measures that didn’t directly damage infrastructure or result in loss of life and industrial productivity.

Wars could also be waged against external opponents, though those generally happened between a fief and its tribal neighbours. The commissioning of Adventurers could technically be described as hiring mercenaries for those conflicts. As a civilian Noble with a gentle disposition, Florine would always favour trying to talk things out.

“Are the tribes expanding your borders?” Florine asked.

“I believe Ough is up in the mountains,” Ludmila replied, “but most of the fighting is happening between the tribes.”

“But this never happened when I was working in the north…”

“The king’s peace was probably being enforced,” Ludmila shrugged where she lay. “Since His Majesty isn’t dependent on his vassals for martial support, the Royal Court can uphold order any way they please. If you haven’t somehow noticed yet, that order is by default rather mechanical.”

Political and economic pressures could undermine the king’s peace in a conventional realm, but tribal Demihumans barely had anything of the sort. While the house of Lords mostly saw the retention of Re-Estize law as something to be thankful for, this was an aspect that could be constantly exploited.

For her part, Florine and most others saw it as a last resort to buy time for a diplomatic solution to be achieved or for problematic laws to be amended. For her work in the north, it also acted as a window where she could familiarise the tribes with the Sorcerous Kingdom’s systems and show them that they had other avenues through which they could address their issues. Unfortunately, ‘addressing issues’ seemed to invariably translate into ‘making them adopt our ways’.

“But you could be doing the same thing,” Florine said. “Why would you let your vassals go to war with one another? I hope it isn’t because they offer little in the way of economic benefits in the first place.”

“Obviously not,” Ludmila replied. “It’s just that I am not so arrogant to think that our way is always the best way and time is needed to figure out what the actual best way is. Unlike our fiefs – at least on paper – tribal territories constantly change according to the state of the tribe occupying it. The only way to be sure that any given tribe can retain control over their territory is to test them. The tribes of the Upper Reaches saw a mass depopulation last year. They’ll be seeing a population explosion for the next few years and territorial claims will be constantly challenged as a result.”

Florine leaned back and forth as she tried to wrap her head around Ludmila’s explanation. Ludmila was more than aware that it was a highly unconventional way of seeing things, but, strictly speaking, what was happening wasn’t illegal. Lords had a right to enforce their claims, and, if those claims were fluid, then the logic that she followed was sound.

“You don’t have to look so distraught,” Ludmila said. “It’s an opportunity not just for the Royal Army to learn how to read and predict group behaviour, but also for our government to see how other people govern themselves. You can’t seriously think that you can turn everyone into a Human.”

“But it’s war,” Florine said. “War is a terrible thing. Most Nobles try to avoid conflict from breaking out. Even the worst of them are wary of any negative consequences to their revenues.”

“Certain forms of conflict can be detrimental, but war takes many forms. Between the wilderness tribes, most of it is ritualised and far less destructive than ritualised Human warfare.”

“I’m not familiar with any forms of ritualised Human warfare…”

Ludmila snorted.

“Yes, you are. The yearly skirmishes between Baharuth and Re-Estize are an example. How many of your people died every year from that?”

“…none, usually.”

“Almost all conflict in this region is ritualised,” Ludmila told Florine. “People agree on a time and place to fight their battles and also adhere to codes of honour and proper conduct. It’s ritualised to the point where most people in Baharuth and Re-Estize think that doing anything other than waiting to be run down by Knights on the open field is cowardly and dishonourable because both countries have strong cavalry traditions. Of course, the obligation to adhere to that honourable conduct only applies to Humans while any ‘cowardly conduct’ from their non-Human neighbours only serves to make them think less of them.”

“Then what would you call what happened in the Draconic kingdom?”

“Highly irregular,” Ludmila replied. “The general staff has a term for it: total war. A state of war where the sum of a polity’s efforts is focused on a conflict for an extended period and the rules of engagement deviate from established rituals.”

“So you’re saying that most wars aren’t like that?”

“Most definitely not. Which makes recent events very strange. As far as our histories are concerned, the last time anyone entered a similar state was two hundred years ago to resist the Demon Gods. It was a war of extermination. Suddenly, we have four different wars in less than two years that can be described as such.”

“…four?”

Ludmila counted off the fingers on her hand.

“Jaldabaoth’s invasion of the Holy Kingdom of Roble. Rol’en’gorek’s occupation of the Draconic Kingdom. The escalation of the Dwarf-Quagoa conflict. The Azerlisia Campaign. I suppose the Empire’s campaign in The Blister makes five.”

Hopefully, it didn’t indicate a growing trend. ‘Total war’ was wasteful to the extreme and most of what happened seemed entirely pointless.

“Do you think it’s happening anywhere else?” Florine asked.

“That’s a good question,” Ludmila answered. “If it is, I’m sure you’ll hear it from your Merchant companies before long.”

They spent the rest of the night studying the materials that Lady Albedo had given her. So much information was daunting, so they decided to start with the Orcs and their neighbours since Florine could come to Dyel and his people if she had any questions.

The following morning, they left to meet with Dyel’s party. They arrived at the bottom of the falls below the Orc encampment just as the glow of dawn appeared from behind the mountains in the East. No one was there yet, and Ludmila waited exactly five minutes before flying up to see what was going on. She made it all the way to the perimeter of their settlements before finding a small group standing just outside of the easternmost dwellings.

“I believe that we agreed to meet at the bottom of the falls,” Ludmila said.

Dyel stepped out of the group to speak with her. The Orc appeared to be dressed in the same, loose-fitting long tunic from the previous evening.

“I’m sorry,” Dyel said. “The people I picked out are too frightened to walk past the Undead.”

There was at least one Orc that had demonstrated the abilities of a Commander, but none that displayed the obvious size and strength of a Lord. Without one, they wouldn’t be able to ‘cheat’ the ‘Undead acclimation’ process…assuming Orc Lords could reinforce their followers that way in the first place.

“The Undead are a common sight in my territory,” Ludmila told them. “If you can’t get past them here, you won’t be able to go anywhere.”

Dyel licked his lips and looked back at the others hiding behind the trees. Ludmila’s mood grew dark as they tarried.

“What…”

Squeals rose from the trees as Ludmila projected her will to squeeze raw terror from the Orcs nearby. Some fled; others fainted. Dyel looked like he was about to climb up the nearest tree.

“If you didn’t know,” she told the Orcs, “I am far more frightening than them. Being able to stand with me and not with them is a bit hypocritical, don't you think?”

The Orcs that fled didn’t come back, but the rest assembled before her after they gathered their wits.

“Now,” she smiled as she led them east along the stream. “You agreed that we would meet at the bottom of the falls, but are you capable of making the descent?”

This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

“I’m not sure,” Dyel said. “I wanted to send some hunters to take a look before we left, but with the Undead in the way…”

They walked past the point where the Death Knights were stationed near the stream. Dyel looked around.

“Where did they go?” He asked.

“They were redeployed to the new perimeter of your hunting range last night,” Ludmila answered.

She didn’t bother saying anything else. The mere idea that the Undead were there had kept them from approaching. It seemed that the ‘empty fortress’ worked regardless of race.

Dyel sent his hunters to find a way down when they reached the top of the falls. The Orcs gaped as Ludmila went ahead, leaping straight off of the cliff. She activated her hairpin to guide her descent toward Florine, who was waiting by the pool at the bottom of the cascade. On impulse, Ludmila deactivated her flight slightly higher than what she determined was safe before she died.

Florine jumped up with a squeak as Ludmila’s boots slammed into the stone along the bank. She rounded on her with wide eyes, a hand placed over her breast.

The damage is about the same?

Ludmila tested her legs before her injury – which amounted to a twisted ankle – regenerated. She had lost levels upon her death, but it appeared that she hadn’t lost what allowed her to safely drop from significant heights.

“Are you alright?” Florine asked.

“Yes, I was just testing something,” Ludmila answered.

“It looked like you twisted your ankle.”

“I did,” Ludmila answered. “One of my Job Classes lets me fall fifty metres or so without any harm. I think it’s similar to the one that the Imperial Flight Service’s Dragoons have.”

“But you did get injured.”

Ludmila rolled her ankle experimentally. Everything was in perfect working condition again.

“I released my flight enchantment at about twice the limit,” Ludmila told her. “The way the ability works seems to subtract the fifty metres from the hundred metres, causing me to take the equivalent of fifty metres worth of falling damage minus my innate damage reduction.”

“…I’m not sure I got all of that, but I do recall Liane doing all sorts of crazy testing when we first received our equipment.”

“I think you mentioned that before. It’s also good to know the limits of your protection.”

Broadly speaking, their equipment made them immune to everyday accidents and attempts by weak individuals to harm them and they also received equipment that offered enough energy resistance to thwart the average magic caster. While it was ostensibly granted by Lady Shalltear to protect her vassals, the equipment also made her friends aware of the strange realities that lurked beyond the realm of common thinking.

According to Lord Mare’s testing, if an entry-level Adventurer Fighter had a theoretical ten ‘health’, then a severe cut by a knife in a non-vital area inflicted an average of two damage to that ten health. A longsword did twice as much in the same scenario if wielded with one hand, and three times as much if wielded with both hands.

This implied that the Fighter in question would always be knocked out of a fight after taking five severe cuts from the knife – or ten bites from the huge cockroaches that Lord Mare loved using for entry-level trials – and, strangely enough, it always happened to work out that way. The felling blow would always land in a decisive way if an attack was strong enough to reduce the target’s ‘health’ to zero or less, and it was very strange to see people succumb to cockroach attacks when she acted as a proctor.

The belts that her friends had received had a theoretical ten damage reduction. This meant an attack that was just enough to take the entry-level Fighter out in one hit did no damage to the Fighter if they were wearing it. Nor would being stabbed by a knife in any way or hit by a sword one-handed. The average critical hit scored by a two-handed longsword attack would have its damage reduced by ten and thus do as much damage as a severe cut by a knife.

Despite being civilians, Clara, Liane, and Florine already had enough levels to be distinctly tougher than the average person, so it made them very hard to kill through mundane means. The Shadow Demons guarding them would kill their attackers well before they were in any danger.

Of course, damage reduction applied to any type of damage that qualified to be reduced. A rockfall would likely do no damage, though it might still trap them. Arrows would bounce off of them and they could walk away unharmed after being struck by loaded wagons. Falling from high enough to break their legs might only result in minor discomfort.

“Where are the Orcs, by the way?” Florine asked.

“Trying to figure out how to get down,” Ludmila answered. “They were too frightened of the Undead to leave their encampment.”

“But I thought you sent them away last night.”

“I did.”

Florine looked up the cliff with a frown. Ludmila spotted the Orcs a third of the way down, cautiously picking their way down the slope. They didn’t appear to have any racial abilities that allowed them to negotiate difficult terrain more easily.

A half-hour later, Dyel’s party stood panting along the banks of the pool. Ludmila gauged their condition with a dubious eye.

“If you’re like this coming down,” she said, “will you be able to make it back up?”

“They’re mostly regular villagers,” Dyel said. “Our hunters shouldn’t have a problem going back and forth once they get strong enough.”

“How long do you expect that to take?” Ludmila asked.

“A decade or so in peaceful times,” the Orc answered. “If raids are frequent, it would be much faster.”

“I take it that this isn’t the normal spread of strength for your tribe?”

Dyel signed, rubbing his bald head with a big-fingered hand.

“Not at all,” he said. “It’s that cursed Jaldabaoth’s fault. His minions came around gathering the strong for his war against the Humans. Our warriors and hunters refused to fight in an unjust war, so the Fiends butchered them all and imprisoned the rest of us for their amusement.”

“You’re significantly stronger than the average villager,” Ludmila noted.

“I was captured separately,” Dyel said. “A good two seasons before the others when Jaldabaoth first appeared. I ended up joining them because Jaldabaoth’s Fiends threw every Orc they had into a single internment camp after the war started.”

“I see. In that case, I’m going to relocate your encampment a dozen kilometres or so down the valley. There’s a road along the river there with wagons you can use to get back and forth from Warden’s Vale.”

“Wagons…”

“Is there something wrong with that?”

“It has nothing to do with you, specifically,” Dyel replied. “It’s just that the first time we saw wagons, they were used to transport cages filled with our people. A miserable memory.”

“Well, if it helps,” Ludmila said, “you should know that travelling in the wagons here is probably much more comfortable than those cages. I don’t mean to downplay how your past experiences might have affected you and your people, but shouldn’t you have a warrior culture?”

“We do,” Dyel said. “Normally, we take good care of those who become scarred by their experiences, but this was just too much. Ninety per cent of our people were callously slaughtered after being toyed with. Every one of the survivors is a victim of Jaldabaoth’s fiendish cruelty.”

“…I will see what can be done. This way, please.”

Perhaps this was another reason why the Orcs had been placed in her care. Perhaps the most damning thing about Re-Estize’s dominant culture was how those haunted by their experiences effectively became invisible to everyone. The Empire, at least, had inherited the culture of the martial nobility in the Imperial Army and the army took care of its own.

The problem was that she was the only one left of her own martial culture. It took entire communities to cultivate the resilience necessary to shrug off the effects of those experiences and to heal any scars that did form. Ludmila intended to reintroduce her culture into the Royal Army over the next generation, but, now, she was suddenly charged with thousands of war-scarred refugees.

『Out of curiosity, Florine, how would you handle this?』

『I would let them live peacefully so they could recover from their ordeals.』

Ludmila sighed.

『Why the sigh?』

『I was just reminded how different you civilian types are.』

『So it was the wrong answer?』

『Yes. But I understand that it wasn’t provided out of malice. Merely ignorance.』

Ludmila pondered a solution to the problem as they made their way to the main road. Maybe Lord Demiurge could help.

『I can’t figure out what was wrong with my answer.』

『Running and hiding from one’s demons doesn’t do anything but make things worse. Your solution does nothing but lock them alone in a cage to be tormented by the past for the rest of their days.』

『Then what’s the correct answer?』

『To move on, one must face their demons. They must fight them and prevail.』

Four passenger wagons awaited them on the road running through the windbreak. The Orcs stopped and stared.

“As you can see,” Ludmila said. “There aren’t any cages.”

“That may be true,” Dyel said, “but…”

“Everyone here uses them to get around,” Ludmila said. “We’re already behind schedule – don’t force me to throw you in.”

Dyel and his followers reluctantly entered the wagons. Ludmila bid him to be seated in the front beside her. He tested the cushioned seats before settling down.

“It’s strangely warm in here,” he said.

“This model of the passenger wagons comes with magical temperature regulation,” Ludmila said. “The cabin will stay like this no matter how hot or cold it gets.”

Worried noises rose from behind as the wagon got underway. Ludmila frowned as Dyel’s fingers dug into the seat.

“Please don’t put holes into the furniture,” Ludmila said.

“W-we’re going too fast!”

“Did you just ask to go faster?”

“No, this is fine!”

The Orcs released a collective sigh of relief as the wagon slowed near one of the villages. Then, they cried out again as it accelerated on the other side.

“I’m beginning to wonder if it’s my people who didn’t think much of this,” Ludmila muttered.

“Kids fought for spots in my demesne when the wagons first started running,” Florine said. “Some of the adults, too.”

Ludmila looked over at Dyel. He clearly wasn’t having any fun.

“Do you have any questions that aren’t ‘can we slow down?’”

“How long is this going to go on for?”

“Until we reach the harbour,” Ludmila rolled her eyes. “You can already see where it is across the lake.”

The Orc forced his gaze forward to where the road descended to cross the dam. Thankfully the others eventually grew silent, as well.

“This strip of grassland,” Dyel gestured to the sides of the road. “What is it?”

“It’s farmland,” Ludmila replied. “My Human subjects live in the villages overlooking them and the grasses that you see are crops being grown for food.”

“There are people other than Humans here? And the Undead.”

“Of course. The marshy islands to the north are inhabited by Lizardmen. The Rangers and Druids that I mentioned yesterday live in the mountains. Hundreds of tribes of Goblins, Ogres and Trolls live in the highland basin upriver. Also…Undead aren’t just one race.”

Dyel gave her an odd look. Most people likely thought as he did and she doubted that the Undead cared about how the living categorised them. Still, she thought it was essential to make the proper distinctions.

They crossed the dam and made their way through the citadel area, turning left at the main intersection to the harbour. The Orcs’ attention was riveted to the formations of Undead in the army base sparring and performing drills.

“There are so many,” Dyel breathed. “How are there so many powerful Undead here?”

“They are all servants of the Sorcerer King,” Ludmila replied. “Soldiers of the Royal Army.”

“How common are Undead in the Abelion Hills?” Florine asked.

“Rare,” Dyel answered. “We get weak Skeletons and Zombies once in a while. Most of the hills aren’t burgeoning with life, so we must be careful where and when we come into conflict with our neighbours or face the consequences.”

The carriage stopped in its usual lot in the corner of the village square. Her subjects watched curiously as the Orcs staggered out. Some of them wobbled on their feet while others collapsed to the ground.

“This is going to be one embarrassing memory for you,” Ludmila said.

“More like terrifying,” Dyel replied. “We won't be long for this world if we have to make this trip all the time.”

“I suppose we’ll have to see how that goes,” Ludmila smiled slightly. “Now, this is the harbour village. It is the hub for trade in my territory, so you can find anything that you need here.”

“What do we trade in, if not slaves?”

“Don’t the Dwarves that you trade with not also trade in coins?” Florine asked.

“No, they only accept slaves.”

Florine frowned. She was doing that a lot lately.

『What sort of economy is that?』

『You’re asking me? Well, from a strategic standpoint, the Dwarves would supply their preferred customers with equipment so they can dominate their respective regions. It’s a dependency that can be exploited to shape the balance of power in the Abelion Hills.』

『…that sounds like something Liane would say. She wouldn't do it though. She hates slavery.』

But if she didn’t, she would do it as much as she could…

“Unlike those Dwarves,” Ludmila told Dyel, “the people here trade in coin and will also barter. Once the needs of your people are met, you may trade the surplus from your territorial management here.”

“So leather, herbs, medicine and such? We did that between our villages back in the hills.”

“That’s right.”

『Wait, we went through that big discussion about the evils of trade and now you’re telling them to trade?』

『It wasn’t about the evils of trade…』

“Just to be certain,” Ludmila said. “You won’t overburden the land with your activities, yes?”

“Of course not,” Dyel scoffed. “Anyone that does so is the greatest of fools. Back in the hills, if anyone went to excess with their hunting and raiding, they would be destroyed by a coalition of their neighbours.”

Ludmila sent Florine a pointed look.

『See?』

『You’re going to have to explain this all to me again before I head out there…』

She led the Orcs around the square, introducing them to the various shops and their proprietors. Most were just getting started for the day, so the Orcs were exposed to the full breadth of the village’s activities.

“Ai, I did not know you had Orcs here.”

Alessia’s voice came from the direction of the village shrine where dozens of villagers were leaving after the morning service. She and Themis walked over to greet Ludmila.

“Vicar Aspasia,” Ludmila lowered her head, “Sister Alessia. I hope the morning finds you well.”

“Blessings of The Six be upon you,” Themis smiled. “Are these some new arrivals?”

“The Gan Zu tribe,” Ludmila replied. “This is Dyel Gan Zu. They’ve been promised sanctuary by His Majesty.”

The Cleric and Paladin’s relaxed dispositions instantly changed.

“I see,” Themis said. “In that case, if you need any healing or spiritual guidance, please feel free to visit us. Ah, I suppose we won’t be here for long…”

“Actually,” Ludmila said, “since you’re here. Could you explain our healing schedules to the mystics here?”

“Sure,” Themis said. “I guess it’s better to get them on board early.”

“Healing schedules?” Dyel furrowed his brow.

“There are many faiths and spiritual practices in the Sorcerous Kingdom,” Ludmila said. “But they need to support their operations. They’ve come up with regulations for that. Speaking of which, there are many rules that I am obliged to familiarise you with…”