Chapter 5

23rd Day, Lower Wind Month, 1 CE

“I thought I would be helping to keep unruly tribes in line, but this is…”

Boobeebee lifted a box filled with documents, carrying it over to a tent next to the main pavilion. It probably wasn’t the best use of a hero, but Florine figured it didn’t hurt to familiarise Boobeebee with the ideas and basic workings of the Sorcerous Kingdom’s administration. That being said, the Zern had a tremendous amount of difficulty absorbing anything at all. Florine wasn’t sure if it was simply because everything that they were doing was simply alien to her race or whether it was something else.

“Back when we were fighting alongside the Humans of the Holy Kingdom,” Boobeebee said as she reentered the pavilion, “their leaders used to take hours or days to decide on anything. Are these ‘processes’ the reason why?”

“I can’t speak for the Holy Kingdom’s leadership,” Florine said, “but this work is essential for the administration of Human societies. Reporting must meet certain standards, be submitted promptly, and be carefully curated for effective decision-making and oversight at higher levels of management.”

The Zern hero folded and unfolded one of her long arms absently.

“Hmm…your lives seem very difficult. Much of what you do here, the Zern can discern by smell.”

“By smell?”

“Yes. Hunger; distress; fatigue; alarm – all these things possess an odour. If the tunnels aren’t absorbing waste properly or if the humidity is too low or high…Zern who detect all of the aforementioned things will move to respond appropriately. There is a smell for everything, and we are born knowing those smells and what to do about them.”

“I can’t imagine how different our lives would be if Humans could do that,” Florine said, “but this is what we have to work with. The Sorcerous Kingdom is not populated solely by Zern, either. Our country needs systems that its member races can appreciate, understand, and put to use.”

“Yet you mentioned that this was used for Human societies?”

Florine set down the documents she was reviewing and looked over at Boobeebee, who had taken a seat under a side table.

“As far as we’re concerned,” Florine said, “His Majesty the Sorcerer King founded the Sorcerous Kingdom in the Duchy of E-Rantel, which is populated by Humans. As such, it’s what we’ve started with, but things won’t stay as they are. We just need time to develop things properly.”

“Lady Gagnier,” Isoroku said from the central table, “a group of petitioners has arrived.”

Had she done anything that might attract petitioners? The last day or so consisted of her adding the information from the Zern to the office’s library of knowledge. That information came with caveats, of course, but it was still valuable if only to develop an understanding of how the Zern saw the world around them.

Perhaps the tribes noticed the Miq accompanying the supply convoys. If they sensed that change was coming that they could participate in, it was possible that they had decided to take initiative.

She went over to the central table, placing a hand on the pile of updated racial dossiers.

“Which tribe is it?”

“It is unknown whether the petitioners represent any particular tribe,” Isoroku replied.

“Then who is it?”

“A group of Dwarf Merchants.”

The Dark Dwarves?

According to the Zern, two different races of Dwarves were known to the locals. The Hill Dwarves were a race that lived in tribal groups much as the Orcs did, but they had not been seen in some time so King Beebeezee speculated that they were no longer around. The second group were the same Dark Dwarves that the Orcs had mentioned, who showed up as wandering bands of Merchants who traded equipment for slaves.

I don’t need this right now…

Instead of some pleasantly positive development, it appeared that a new source of problems had arrived to add more complications. She was already buried in work and she had barely started on her tasks. Dealing with slave traders was so far down her list of priorities that it may as well have not existed.

Florine closed her eyes and sighed, stepping away from the table. Did the local administration even have anything remotely resembling a hall? The main pavilion was effectively an office and it was hardly suitable for holding an audience.

“Where are they right now?” She asked.

“They are being held beyond the second security perimeter,” the army liaison answered.

“So far away? But why?”

“The party was armed. Furthermore, they are allegedly participants in illegal activities. The appropriate customs procedures were enacted.”

She supposed that putting together what they knew about the Dark Dwarves did result in a stereotypically dangerous image. When she tried to picture them, the image of particularly short and violent thugs came to mind.

“Allegedly…so they haven’t tried encouraging the preexisting slave trade since the Sorcerous Kingdom assumed the management of the area?”

“Economic activity of the described nature has not been detected.”

At least there was that. She would have to deal with the Dark Dwarves at some point, but standing atop a pile of dead ones probably did her no favours.

“In that case,” Florine said, “let’s prepare a place to receive them, just in case we need it. We’ll keep it up for future audiences, as well. Clean out that tent over there and move it out to the first security perimeter. Keep the Dwarves away from the cargo handling area, as well.”

Florine quickly penned something out on the blank sheet of paper lying on her desk, then held it out to Isoroku.

“Please contact Lady Albedo and deliver this message.”

The Elder Liches split up to carry out her instructions. Florine pulled out a hand mirror, frowning at what she discovered.

“Help me out, please,” she said to the Vampire Bride. “I’m a complete mess.”

“Yes, Lady Gagnier.”

Florine took three steps from the pavilion before Liolio alighted on her head with a flutter of his wings. She stopped in her tracks, exchanging a look with the Vampire Bride.

Ah, that’s why my hair looks like a bird’s nest…

“I think Tierre packed a hat,” Florine said. “It’s so sunny and hot out here that I should have been wearing it anyway.”

It was still spring, yet it hadn’t rained even once since she had arrived. After experiencing weeks of the Draconic Kingdom’s rainy season, she felt like she was going to dry up and crumble into dust at any moment.

Florine produced a wide-brimmed felt hat decorated with woven flowers on its band, and, after combing out her hair and fixing up her dress, the Vampire Bride placed it lightly on her head. Liolio hopped back on. Florine could feel him testing the material with his talons.

“Don’t ruin my hat, please,” Florine said. “It’s the only one I brought with me. Ah, Boobeebee, could you wait here, please?”

“Of course.”

The natural weapons and armour of the Zern precluded the use of equipment. As such, they were almost guaranteed to harvest any Dwarves that appeared for consumption. Given the personalities of the Dwarves that she was familiar with, it was probably best to keep anything that they might consider an enemy out of sight.

Florine mounted her Soul Eater and rode past the first security perimeter, which was the rim of the shallow crater within which the regional administrative office was raised. The second security perimeter was two kilometres further, and it was there that she found their ‘petitioners’.

They had the stout and solid figures characteristic of the Azerlisian Mountain Dwarves, but these Dwarves were all bald. A mix of grey and white beards graced their faces, which were also covered in dark tattoos. Their dark grey skin and dour looks gave off an atmosphere absent of any warmth or humour.

As she grew close, one of the Dwarves gestured toward her with a shake of his beard. Another Dwarf rose from where they were squatting inside a circle of Death Knights, turning to face her. Florine dismounted several metres away and walked over to greet them with a pleasant smile.

“Good evening. I am Florine Kadia Dale Gagnier, a Baroness of the Sorcerous Kingdom. To what do I owe the pleasure of your acquaintance?”

“Name’s Falagrim,” the Dark Dwarf standing before her said. “Your…associates here are interfering with my business.”

“And what might that business be?”

“That’d be none of your business.”

“The Abelion Wilderness is under the jurisdiction of the Sorcerous Kingdom’s administration, Master Falagrim,” Florine told him. “Any business that you conduct while you are here is my business.”

The Dark Dwarf gave her a hard look. Florine held his gaze for a dozen heartbeats before he harrumphed.

“What happened to all those Fiends that were running the place before?” He asked.

“They were defeated by a coalition of liberated tribes led by His Majesty the Sorcerer King,” Florine answered. “Those tribes have, in turn, willingly submitted to the Sorcerer King’s rule.”

“That so?” Falagrim said, “In that case, who do I see to obtain a Merchant’s licence here?”

“Membership with the Merchant Guild is usually enough,” Florine said. “However, the problem here is that the accounts of the local tribes mark you as slave traders.”

“So what?”

“Slavery is illegal in the Sorcerous Kingdom.”

Falagrim’s face screwed up into an expression halfway between confusion and disgust.

“That’s crazy,” he said.

“That’s the law,” Florine replied.

“Slavery is practised everywhere.”

“Not in the Sorcerous Kingdom, it isn’t,” Florine told him. “There are other, better forms of trade that are practised everywhere. For instance, your gold is just as good here as anyone else’s.”

The Dark Dwarf’s features settled into an unreadable look.

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“I’ll go and confer with my Merchants,” he said. “We’re free to go, yeah? We haven’t broken any of your laws unless you plan on retroactively charging us for something that happened before you even showed up. If that’s the case, you’ll be prosecuting the entire population of the Abelion Hills.”

“You and your people are free to go,” Florine’s smile returned. “We look forward to doing business with you.”

----------------------------------------

“So, what are we putting together, boss?”

“A bit of everything,” Falagrim said. “Kind of like with the Orcs, but more…prissy.”

He spat into the campfire. The things that he had to put up with…

“What race are we dealing with?” One of his Merchants asked.

“Humans, I guess,” Falagrim answered.

“What the hell are Humans doing out here? And what do you mean by ‘I guess’?”

“She’s got a bunch of Undead with her.”

The Merchants across the campfire stared up at him.

“A Necromancer?” One of them asked, “Maybe she’ll fancy equipping her minions…”

“Who knows?” Falagrim rose to his feet, “She claims to be a Human Noble and she dresses the same crazy way as the histories tell.”

“You gotta give us more than that to work with…”

“She’s got a fuckin’ bird on her head!” Falagrim shouted at them, “Work with that!”

The Merchants turned to walk away, speaking in low voices between themselves. Falagrim kicked a twig into the fire, then moved three steps to take a seat again on a boulder nearby.

“Did she really have a bird on her head?” Agni asked.

“I swear by all the gods she did,” Falagrim answered, “Not some mock-up, but a real gods-damned bird.”

Decadent, lazy, and insufferably imperious. Possessed of all the reckless impulsiveness of a short-lived race and just about as ugly as an Elf. It looked like the old accounts about Humans weren’t all too far off of the mark.

A few minutes later, the caravan workers started coming by, dropping off bits and pieces of merchandise. Most of what they had was unenchanted and fashioned for the races of Jaldabaoth’s army, so what they had to display to the Human was limited to magical equipment and weapons that could be wielded by their skinny hands.

At least summon Undead in the shape of our old customers, dammit.

While the litter was being loaded, one of the grey robes came up to speak with him.

“Shall we accompany you this time, my prince?”

“What are you scheming?”

“It’s a new customer,” the grey robe shrugged. “Potentially. We should find out as much as we can, and our Merchants only have an eye for merchandise and trade.”

“I should come with them, as well,” Agni said. “Who knows what mischief this Necromancer is up to.”

Falagrim considered the risks of taking their company’s sole Cleric with them. Her insight would undoubtedly be useful when it came to the Undead…

“Just don’t do anything that might get us in trouble,” he said. “That girl’s got three Elder Liches and a bunch of other nasties with her.”

“Elder Liches?” Agni frowned, “Are you sure?”

“I’m sure unless you can think of anything else that looks like an Elder Lich. Why?”

“She would have to be an extraordinarily powerful Necromancer to dominate three Elder Liches. Even if she could, it’s a stupid idea.”

“Why’s that?”

“Elder Liches aren’t summons,” Agni told him. “They grow in power over time as they pursue their studies and absorb the mana around them. Eventually, they’ll grow beyond the limit of their dominator’s control and turn on them.”

Falagrim grunted.

“It’d be a fine sight to watch her dance when they light her ridiculous costume on fire, bird and all. It isn’t happening right now, though, so don’t stir anything up.”

An hour later, Falagrim returned to the Undead checkpoint on the trail to the Dale of Defiance. Instead of going up to speak with the Human Noble himself, he sent the Merchants in. Trying to power through another race’s rubbish laws as a Dwarf Lord was too difficult, so he figured he’d let the Merchants have a go with their own ways.

He stood back at the edge of his Darkvision range with Agni and the grey robes, waiting to see if the Merchants could produce any results. The Human Noble greeted the three Merchants with her stupid smile and the stupid bird on her head.

“That’s her, then?” Agni asked.

“In the flesh,” Falagrim crossed his arms. “The pasty one behind her shoulder is a handmaiden, I guess. Asking for a steel quarrel between those udders of hers, if you ask me.”

Prancing around the Abelion Hills in a strip of cloth was bound to get one killed, eventually.

Agni gave him a look.

“That’s a Vampire, my prince.”

“Whatever.”

One more Undead didn’t matter. He turned his attention to the grey robes standing to his left.

“Get anything?”

“We’re still making our preparations, my prince.”

“What about you, Loar?”

“It’s mixed,” the Deepwarden replied.

Falagrim frowned.

“Mixed?”

“Something’s off, maybe. She’s both weaker and stronger than she seems.”

“You better start making some damn sense.”

Loar came closer, speaking in a low voice.

“She comes off as stronger than the caravan workers, at first glance, but her movements mark her as a civilian or at least someone who isn’t used to danger. There’s no sign of martial training. At the same time, look at how she’s handling that suit of mail. It may as well be a napkin to her.”

The enchanted adamantite hauberk glimmered in the moonlight as the Human inspected it. Falagrim ground his teeth. He didn’t like it when things didn’t stack up.

“The probe isn’t getting through,” a grey cloak reported. “We’re being blocked.”

Falagrim cursed under his breath. As extravagantly foolish as she looked, the Human had come fully prepared to deal with Dark Dwarves.

“Could it be that she’s not a Human at all?” Agni muttered.

“Eh? What are you on about now?”

“Before the Gates of Hardar were sealed,” the Cleric told him, “there were rumours of mortals who had discovered the secret to lichdom.”

“She doesn’t look like a damn Lich to me.”

“They were rumoured to be extraordinarily vain,” Agni said, “clinging to the trappings of their mortal existence even after they left it behind. The use of a title and her mortal appearance could be seen as evidence of that. I didn’t consider it at first since she wasn’t giving off an Undead reaction, but if she’s being shielded by a Nondetection effect or something similar…it would make more sense as to how she’s controlling all of these powerful Undead, at least.”

The Gates of Hardar had been closed with the fall of the Archelian Empire, so he couldn’t imagine how strong such a being might have gotten after so long. It at least gave credence to the existence of a 'Sorcerous Kingdom' being run by Necromancers controlling powerful Undead. That didn’t help Falagrim’s current situation in the slightest, however.

Fifteen minutes passed and, still, the negotiations dragged on. Eventually, the three Merchants returned to Falagrim. The one in the centre tossed a pouch over. It hit Falagrim’s hand with a metallic clink.

“It’s no good, boss,” he said. “We couldn’t get better than a fair price.”

“No,” the one to his left grumbled, “it’s more like she let us get away with a fair price.”

Falagrim curled his lip.

“She? You mean the Vampire there with her? Don’t tell me she charmed you…”

“That was a Vampire?”

“Answer the question.”

“It was the one with the bird on her head,” the Merchant told him. “We couldn’t get her to budge on the price. She wasn’t in any rush to get rid of us, either. The longer we tried to haggle, the more information she pulled out of us – we cut loose as soon as we noticed.”

He looked at the stars overhead, taking a deep breath.

“How long have you been working for me, hm?”

“Nearly a century, boss.”

“So you’re saying that you’ve been working as a Merchant for a century and this Human got the better of you? She’s not even a Merchant, she’s just a damn Noble.”

“No, I’m sure she’s a Merchant. There’s no way she isn’t one.”

The Merchant looked to the two others, who nodded in agreement.

“Great,” Falagrim said. “So this Human Noble is a Necromancer, a Lich, and a Merchant, too? What else do you want to add to that?”

“I didn’t say that she was a Lich, boss.”

“I think you’ve been preying on these damned tribals for so long that you’ve forgotten how to haggle,” Falagrim opened the pouch and scowled at the contents. “What the hell am I supposed to do with these coins, even?”

“We told her we needed provisions like you told us to,” the Merchant replied. “She needs some time to get everything together, so she left the money with us.”

“She’s headed this way, boss,” Loar said.

They fell silent as the Human Noble – or whatever she was – came over with the Vampire at her side. She stopped ten metres away.

“What do you want?” Falagrim called out to her.

“May I join you and your associates, Master Falagrim?” She asked.

He motioned her over with a jerk of his head.

“I heard from these gentlemen that you required provisions for a foray into Evasha,” she said. “I thought I’d warn you that, even if you successfully conduct your business in the south, any shipments of slaves will still be turned away at the border.”

“Ridiculous,” Falagrim spat. “We’re going out of our way to observe your damn laws. Now you’re trying to deny us our livelihoods?”

“Even if your transactions take place outside of the Sorcerous Kingdom’s borders, slavery is still illegal in our country and that of course means slaves are considered contraband. Won’t you consider other ways to conduct trade? Going by the goods that your Merchants had on display, the craft of your people would be highly valued in the markets of our nation and those of our allies.”

“We only trade in slaves, girl.”

“For menial labour, yes? You may be interested to know that the Sorcerous Kingdom leases Undead for that very purpose. They have many benefits over living labour, including–”

“They don’t tire,” Falagrim rolled his eyes. “They don’t get sick, don’t get bored or complain. You can have them work in places that present risks to the living and they’re easily replaceable. Did I miss anything?”

“…I believe you have the gist of it, Master Falagrim.”

“Yeah, well, I wasn’t born yesterday,” he said. “You’re not the first to make the offer, nor will you be the last. Our answer will always be the same: not interested.”

Admittedly, it had been a long time since anyone had done so, but the points that they brought up never changed. Any civilisation worth calling a civilisation that was interested in employing Undead labour would create its own Undead, not rely on others for them.

“I must say that this is the first time that anyone has answered in such a way,” the Human said. “Might I know the reason for your refusal?”

“Because they belong to someone else,” Farlagrim told her. “I don’t know about you, but I think the idea of ‘leasing’ countless Undead that could be turned against their ‘employer’ at any given moment seems like a terminally stupid idea.”

Beyond that, a slave was far superior to any Undead labourer. Slaves were alive. They could scream, cry, suffer and die. Undead just did their thing until they fell apart, which wasn’t satisfying at all.

The girl didn’t seem to have anything to say to that, so Falagrim excused himself and returned with his people to their camp. Agni came out to where he stood atop the riverbank, staring out at the Abelion River.

“Now what?” Agni said.

“I’m thinking,” Falagrim replied absently.

Was there anywhere else they could go? His first thought was to try his luck in the Holy Kingdom of Roble, but since the Sorcerous Kingdom had gotten rid of Jaldabaoth and his minions, it was likely that they held some sway there. Furthermore, while a war-torn country might be a good place to pick up slaves, he probably wouldn’t be able to unload his goods there. That was ultimately his problem: wherever he ended up, he had to find a market for goods fashioned for the various races of the Abelion Hills. The only alternative markets that he knew of were in Evasha and a few places even further abroad.

Could I head to Roble and hire a ship? They should have southbound routes…

Things were getting too convoluted and the expenses kept piling up. His suppliers only accepted slaves, the Sorcerous Kingdom didn’t allow slave trading, and he was stuck in the middle.

“Maybe this is a good opportunity to–”

“No,” he cut Agni off.

“What other options do we have?” She said, “The Sorcerous Kingdom’s closed down our market and we can’t even bring slaves through their territory even if we do find new ones. At least what I spoke about will keep us going.”

“It won’t keep our clan going,” Falagrim said.

“Then make a new home for us! How many centuries will this go on for? You know that the other princes won’t ever let you return home.”

“And they won’t ever let us leave, either,” Falagrim replied. “You know how it works. Exile wouldn’t mean much if you could just resettle somewhere else on a whim…and like hell I’d just abandon the hearth of our ancestors for something so trivial as inconvenience.”

“I never said we’d do that,” Agni told him. “It can be someplace where we can build up our strength. The other clans have no idea what we’re doing out here or where we go. We could have a whole other kingdom and they wouldn’t notice until we came back to knock on their door.”

Falagrim continued staring out the river. The appearance of the Sorcerous Kingdom and its potential as a trade partner had rekindled an aspiration in his sister-in-law that had long lay dead. The last time she had been so assertive was back when she had first joined the trade caravans, where she somehow saw opportunities to gain power around every corner.

“You’re forgetting whom you’re pinning your aspirations on,” Falagrim told her. “Humans. And a Human can’t be trusted any more than a Goblin.”