Chapter 4

“Seven out of ten. You’re as good as I am, Mrs Vos!”

The woman, a plump fishwife by the name of Carmen Vos, beamed at Neia’s praise.

“Oh, you’re such a flatterer, Miss Baraja,” she laughed lightly. “You never missed during training back in the war and you were a terror on the field.”

That’s because I was using a Skill…

Without it, her archery was about as accurate as many of the women practising before her. Between her Skill to imbue arrows with divine energy and the equipment that the Sorcerer King had lent her, however, everyone who saw her fighting during the war probably believed that she was as good as her father.

After finishing their tour of Mister Soto’s business, they travelled to the harbour district outside of Rimun’s walls. There, they visited the wharf where many members of the Sorcerer King Rescue Corps could be found among the fishermen and their families. An archery range had been set up in the empty waterfront where the fishing boats were left ashore overnight. As she watched the wives awaiting their husbands demonstrate their archery skills, Neia struggled to make a connection between archery and being a fishwife.

So they process fish and sell them at market. Archery helps them…huh?

She supposed that it did make them physically stronger and being stronger helped with various things. They could carry more stuff without needing help and could stand their ground against regular civilians if push came to shove. The latter wasn’t really a factor since the Holy Kingdom was a relatively peaceful place…usually.

They once lacked the strength to uphold their justice, but, now, they were in a better position to do so. If what she had seen thus far reflected the state of all of the Sorcerer King Rescue Corps’ members, then they were all as strong as a regular armsman in a Noble’s retinue. It still wasn’t enough to take on Demihumans alone, but it was fairly substantial in their current situation.

“Have you seen anything like this before?” Neia asked.

“What do you mean?” Saye looked over at her.

“Civilians practising their combat skills in peacetime. Back before the war, the only time most citizens acted as combatants and honed their skills for potential conflicts was during their time with the army.”

“Hmm…I can’t say that I have,” Saye said. “Everywhere I’ve been, professional soldiers and civilians don’t have overlapping roles. I guess there are retired Imperial Knights in their farms and frontiersmen that might do it. Everyone else spends their whole lives as civilians and they get eaten by raiders if there aren’t any soldiers or Adventurers around.”

“What about Re-Estize? I thought that they levy troops from the commonfolk.”

“They do, but they don’t train seriously until after they’re called to fight.”

That didn’t make much sense to her. She figured that they would at least have basic army training like the Holy Kingdom’s citizens did.

“But didn’t they go to war with the Empire every year? How did they stand up to the Imperial Army?”

“By outnumbering them, I guess. I think it was usually four to one every year at Katze Plains. The Imperial Army is mostly cavalry and the Royal Army of Re-Estize uses pike formations to counter them.”

Neia wondered how well that worked. The Holy Kingdom’s Royal Army once considered countering large cavalry-like Demihumans such as Orthrous with pikes, but the result was disastrous. When the time came to test the idea, a single Orthrous ended up charging straight into a regiment of pike, snapping their weapons like toothpicks before slaughtering over two thousand soldiers with little effort. After that, it casually walked away, stating its disappointment over the lack of challenge.

“How have relations been with the Demihumans offshore?” Neia turned her attention back to the small gathering around her, “We must have fished the area heavily to feed ourselves after we lost our stores.”

“We didn’t have any boats right after the war,” Mrs Vos said. “and the fish got wise to us casting our nets from the shore. Once the catch dried up, we had to rely on whatever the Demihumans brought in to sell. If there were any problems with overfishing, they weren’t with us.”

“I see. Has the Old Dragon been around?”

“Haven’t seen her since the war started,” the fishwife shook her head. “We figure she’ll show up when the fleet comes in. She’s always curious about what they bring from abroad.”

“When do you think the fleet will arrive in Rimun?” Saye asked.

“Hmm…assuming the usual weather, they should be on their way north to Argland right now. Once they arrive there, they’ll be in port for two or three weeks before sailing back down to us.”

“You must be looking forward to it.”

“Oh, we are,” the women around them nodded and smiled. “I’m not sure how we’ll explain the war, but the Wind of Rimun has always been a joyous occasion.”

“Will the Temples declare a holy day as usual?” Neia asked.

“I don’t see why they wouldn’t. The Duke’s been rushing to fix up the Summer Palace before then, too.”

She hoped that she could spend some time in the city when that happened. Saye was probably interested in the exotic goods and stories that the mariners had to share, as well.

Close to sunset, the fishing boats started to appear on the horizon and the people on the shore cleared up the archery range to make space for them. Shipbuilding was still very much crippled in the Holy Kingdom and the immediate demand for fishing vessels meant that Rimun’s entire fishing fleet was made up of small boats with crews of a half dozen men, at most.

Somehow, those crews recognised Neia long before they came ashore and the men waved and cheered at her as they rowed into port. Fishermen replaced fishwives as the latter took the day’s haul to the evening markets. The owner of the fleet – a wiry man by the name of Enrique who continued to work on one of the boats despite his success – came to join them after making sure everything was in order.

“Miss Baraja,” he said, “it’s such an honour to have you visit us.”

Neia waved her hands in front of herself.

“Ah, please, there’s no need to be so formal. I just wanted to see how everyone was doing.”

“We’re doing swell. Things always seem to be looking up…though I guess we were right at the bottom after the war.”

He said as much, but, just as it was with Mister Soto, the progress of the people dwelling in royalist-managed lands couldn’t be even remotely compared to his success and the state of Rimun in general.

“Was what you learned during the war of any use to you?” Neia asked.

“The training we took part in sure toughened us up,” Enrique nodded. “Rowing boats and hauling fish ain’t nothing to us now.”

“I see,” Neia said. “But the Holy Kingdom still has its maritime treaties, right? Even if it’s easier to do your work now, the areas where you’re allowed to fish are still limited.”

One of her greatest fears was that some members of the Sorcerer King Rescue Corps would use their newfound strength to bully others into getting what they wanted. She didn’t like thinking that way, but, with so many people, it was unreasonable to think that no one at all engaged in undesirable behaviours.

“Yes, you’re right about that,” Enrique said, “but we were still able to learn some tricks.”

“Tricks?”

“It’s hard to explain. Little things that help here and there. Some people are better than usual at telling where a good catch is while others can skillfully bring in the best fish. Others still can sense where dangerous fish with magical abilities are and keep their boat out of harm’s way. Stuff like that. After I expanded my fishing fleet, I started organising the crews, making sure that as many ships as possible have one of each person that can do a certain trick. Overall, it’s made things much smoother than before. Once the shipyards start launching vessels that can hold larger crews, we’ll do even better.”

Maybe there really is a Skill that makes people go ‘um’.

Had the Sorcerer King known this as well? She wouldn’t be at all surprised if so. No, he must have known about everything all along. His Majesty’s greatness truly possessed depth beyond all Human comprehension.

On their way back to the Summer Palace for supper, Neia stared at nothing in particular as she digested what she had learned. Coming into Rimun, it felt reasonable to go along with the conservatives’ strategy, building up the strength they required to bring justice to the royalist-controlled lands in the northern Holy Kingdom. Now, it seemed like every day they spent in preparation was another day that her people in the east were prevented from following the Sorcerer King’s wisdom.

“Saye.”

“Hm?”

“If people from Hoburns came to Rimun, how do you think they would react?”

The Bard glanced at her before snorting and returning her attention to the carriage window.

“Shocked and angry, but not angry enough to do anything but talk about it.”

“But how can that be? They’ve been suffering for months while their fellow citizens in the west have been enjoying a normal – no, an accelerated recovery!”

“Because anger is cheap,” Saye told her. “People are angry everywhere and it gets them nowhere. How many rebellions, revolts, or even riots do you know of?”

“I…”

Neia furrowed her brow as she failed to think of anything even remotely resembling a rebellion, revolt, or riot. They were unheard of: so much so that she had to think about what the words even meant.

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“I don’t know of any,” Neia said.

“I only know of one,” Saye told her. “When the Warden of the East, Marquis El-Nix, rallied the Lords of Baharuth and rejected the rule of a foreign power.”

“That’s when the Baharuth Empire broke off from Re-Estize?”

“Well, it’s more like I said: they kicked out a foreign power. After the Demon Gods were defeated, the Theocracy wasn’t the only group to send people to settle the ruined lands. House Vaiself was originally from somewhere in Karnassus and they used their relatively powerful position to conquer what belonged to some different empire that existed there before the Demon Gods.”

“Didn’t you say that you had problems finding any detailed history from around the Demon Gods’ time?”

“I said that there’s a weird problem with our history when it comes to the Demon Gods. But I know more than Human history. The Mountain Dwarves and the Frost Giants in the Azerlisia Mountains have intact records that the Human nations in this region lack. Both of them recognise that Humans lived in the lands on both sides of the mountains and the Dwarves even have written records of them, including vaults full of everyday things like trade ledgers and coinage.”

“I see…that’s sort of interesting. Re-Estize always frames the Empire as a collection of rebels.”

“I hear that they do,” Saye said. “But the truth is that the Baharuth Empire is effectively the successor of the previous empire and Re-Estize was founded by invaders that took advantage of the chaos after the Demon Gods. Anyway, what I was going to say is that anger and discontent aren’t enough to enact the change that you want.”

“We’re not trying to rebel against the Crown, though.”

“Uh…what the conservatives are hurtling toward is civil war. What’s pretty rebellion-ish. I think you’ll be able to find many basic similarities between what’s going on here and what happened in Baharuth even if things don’t play out the same way.”

“Hmm…”

Neia fell back into her thoughts again, wondering what was required to enact change. Was it money? Power? Political will? Leadership? Maybe it was everything. As much as she hated the idea, Saye was right: anger was cheap and did little on its own. Furthermore, she had seen that it could be manipulated, misdirected, and it was ultimately short-lived.

In the end, it all came back to the Sorcerer King’s wisdom. Weakness was a sin. Strength was required to protect what one cared for and uphold justice, or injustice would be forced upon all that one cared for. What she needed was to figure out what constituted strength in their present situation.

But people continue to suffer as I sit here trying to figure stuff out…

She couldn’t sit still. She had to do something, even if it was a little bit.

For supper, she joined Duke Debonei, Count Vigo, and a handful of other Nobles in the Summer Palace’s great hall. Saye assumed her place as a performer. Neia couldn’t figure out how the girl could play through dinner without her stomach growling nonstop.

“Did everyone else go to prepare for the demonstration, Your Grace?” Neia asked as she unfolded a napkin over her lap.

“Most returned to their respective areas of responsibility,” the Duke answered. “These young lords that you see here are those assisting in the administration of the territories adjacent to the city plus a few who stayed behind to witness your demonstration. Count Vigo is a guest from the south, of course.”

“I see…since those present will be most familiar with the matter, what prevented the jurisdictions in Rimun Prefecture from creating work camps around Rimun? Practically speaking, I mean.”

“There are both political and economic aspects to it,” one of the noblemen at the table told her. “For our part, doing anything similar would be interpreted as an attack against the Crown.”

“How can the royalists do the same thing and get away with it?”

“I won’t pretend to understand what goes on in King Caspond’s head, Miss Baraja. I only know how the royalists will use any similar actions on our part against us. The royalists’ economic manoeuvring also has a clear, political motive. There has always been a struggle for power between the rural regions of the country where the vast majority of the Holy Kingdom’s citizens live and the cities that serve as the country’s economic and political centres. The royalists are doing what they’re doing because they want to weaken the cities and the Crown as much as possible even while supposedly supporting the Crown.”

“So the royalists are actually acting in the best interests of all Nobles – even the conservative faction?”

“The answer is not so simple,” Duke Debonei said. “Our country – nay, any kingdom – has three main social groups. The first is the Crown; second, the aristocratic establishment; third, the rural commonfolk. Each strives to negotiate rights, laws, and contracts that favour their respective positions, and through that balance is the political and economic health of a kingdom maintained. Between the incompetence of Caspond and the machinations of the royalists, however, the processes that create a healthy balance in our country are being reworked and circumvented.”

“Rather than representing any single demographic in the Holy Kingdom,” Count Vigo added. “The conservative faction first and foremost desires a return to responsible governance for the sake of the entire country. You have seen firsthand the suffering and ruin wrought by the royalists’ heedless and unobstructed pursuit of ‘progress’.”

Neia nodded. Maybe every side was thinking that they were doing what was best, but one side was clearly leading the country into an unthinkable catastrophe.

“As Your Grace says, I see the difference now that I’ve come to Rimun, but, according to my associates, the citizens here don’t believe the claims of what’s happening in the east.”

“That is the unfortunate truth,” Duke Debonei replied. “One of the things that we were hoping for was that you would lend credence to our claims.”

“I’d be more than happy to, Your Grace,” Neia said. “But I was also thinking of doing something else.”

The Duke washed down a bite of his meal with what remained of his red wine before offering her his full attention.

“What might that be, Miss Baraja?”

“I’m not sure how effective this would be, so I was hoping for everyone’s thoughts on this idea. The city of Lloyds was recently taken over by the royalists, but how much of its constituent prefecture went with it?”

A low murmur rose from the noblemen present at her pointed question.

“The royalists’ policies present a clear and present danger to the area around Lloyds,” Duke Debonei said, “and you propose that we take advantage of the newfound awareness of the royalists’ ways in the area to reinforce our position there.”

“Not only that, but…erm, could I bother Your Grace for a map?”

Duke Debonei looked over his shoulder and nodded to a nearby footman. Neia went through her dish as quickly as she could without looking ridiculous. The footman reappeared with a large easel, placing it in front of the main dais. Another footman came behind him and mounted a board with the map upon the easel. Neia rose from her seat and went over to stand beside the stand, taking a proffered wooden pointer and studying the map’s details for a moment. She indicated a spot two days south by southwest of Lloyds.

“This is the location of Mister Lousa’s hacienda,” she said. “What portions of the north coast are still under conservative control?”

“Everything west of Lloyds, essentially,” the Duke said. “Minus the fiefs adjacent to the city.”

“Then, never mind an idea,” Neia told the assembled Nobles, “this should be our priority.”

The wooden pointer circled the corridor of conservative-controlled territories sandwiched between the kingswood and the highway running from Lloyds to Hoburns. Count Vigo leaned forward on his elbow and nodded.

“She’s right, Your Grace,” he said. “Before Miss Baraja’s arrival, it was an overextended position that was problematic for us to defend. With the addition of Los Ganaderos, however, it’s a strategically critical area. Maintaining a strong hold on that corridor will solve most of the logistical issues that Miss Baraja’s people face. By escorting supply caravans coming through that corridor, Los Ganaderos will effectively act as a regular patrol of light cavalry. Everything west of there will also theoretically be secure from any substantial moves by the royalists so long as those territories are in the way.”

Neia blinked blankly several times as the Count spoke. Now that he mentioned it, she could understand the value of the outlined area. Before that, she just wanted to speak to the people there to spread His Majesty’s wisdom and bolster them against the inevitable advance of the royalists.

“What you say makes sense, Lord Vigo,” Duke Debonei said, “but how much will this cost us? One must also consider how the royalists will react to our movements.”

“To that, I would say it doesn’t matter. The area’s strategic importance is too great to not reinforce. It is undoubtedly…”

Count Vigo’s brow furrowed as his voice trailed off. He remained silent, peering at the map as if it was a venomous serpent.

“What’s the matter?” Duke Debonei frowned at him.

“I was going to say that it is undoubtedly where the first contest for the north will be held, but what does that mean? King Caspond awarded Lloyds to the royalists with only half of its constituent territories. What occurred in court that resulted in this outcome?”

“A trap to bring us into conflict?” One of the Nobles suggested.

“Or an invitation by the Holy King to initiate conflict,” said another. “He is in no position to rescind his policies, but this may be an attempt on Caspond’s part to weaken the royalists and regain some of the Crown’s power.”

Several discussions broke out over the table at the same time. Neia tried to listen to all of them at once, but she couldn’t make much sense of anything. As the talking dragged on, one of the noblemen near the middle of the left table – a tall, dark-haired scion by the name of Lugo – rose from his seat and raised a hand to call for silence.

“I am strongly of the mind that this is an invitation,” the dark-haired young man said boldly. “Consider the results of royalist management in the north. Hoburns, Kalinsha, and Prart only pay a fifth of their dues to the Crown! The royalists similarly withhold eighty per cent of trade taxes collected from the towns and ports. If Lloyds is subjected to such a…schedule, then the Crown’s debts will begin to mount at an unacceptable rate. As blind as he seems to be, King Caspond and his cabinet cannot ignore that.”

“And if they try to,” another nobleman said, “the Crown will simply cease to function and the royalists will do as they please. We still control half of Lloyds Prefecture and we have an obligation to see to its proper management. If left to their own devices, those workshops will ruin things just as surely as they have everywhere else and our ‘poor performance’ will see more of our lands awarded to the royalists.”

“It seems that we have no choice,” Duke Debonei mused.

“Which is what makes it such a damnably good trap,” Count Vigo said. “We may have little choice but to take up this challenge, but that doesn’t mean we go into it without a care in the world. What will the royalists do once they detect our activities in the area?”

“That would depend on the plans that we threaten,” Duke Debonei said. “Though, once they realise that Los Ganaderos have come fully over to our side and what that entails…well, we may as well do everything short of attacking the royalists outright.”

From her place by the map, Neia scanned the nodding heads of the assembled noblemen. They already seemed to understand what that meant, which meant that she remained clueless.

“What does ‘everything’ entail, Your Grace?” She asked.

“Everything we can do to spoil their ‘prize’,” Duke Debonei answered. “An increased military presence; diverting resources that would normally go to the city. The latter will likely hurt them the most. One of the first things the royalists do once they establish those parasitic labour camps is charge a toll that ‘encourages’ anyone delivering goods to the city to sell it to the nearest camp instead. Once they control the supply lines, they are free to dictate industrial production.”

In other words, the conservatives would be sending half of Lloyds’ resources to Rimun instead. The greed of the royalists would be turned against them by opening a sea route to Rimun that offered superior returns.

“The royalists won’t like that at all,” Count Vigo said. “But do we have the will and the means to deter them should they attempt to press Lloyds’ natural trade rights over its prefecture?”

“Natural trade rights,” one of the noblemen snorted. “They’re simply paying the consequences for their malevolent motives.”

“As ludicrous as it is,” the dark-haired nobleman said, “Lord Vigo’s concern must still be addressed. I would not be surprised at all if the royalists put forward such a justification, and we must have the martial might on hand to enforce true justice. While their mettle is yet unproven, to what degree would you say that we can rely on Los Ganaderos, Miss Baraja?”

“Us?” Neia jerked slightly as the discussion was suddenly turned on her, “Erm…I’m confident that we can deal with the royalists on the field, but they have other tactics that we’re not equipped to deal with.”

“Such as?”

“Industrial sabotage, for instance. Arson appears to be a favourite method. Then, there was the chain of assassinations that led up to Mister Lousa’s death. They’re all activities that require thief takers or at least skilled foot patrols to counter. Our men are all ranchers, so you won’t be able to count on them for urban law enforcement if the need arises.”

“That much, at least, shouldn’t be an issue,” Duke Debonei told her. “So long as Los Ganaderos can deal with an overt military offensive, we can provide the armsmen for what you mentioned.”

“So long as we can be flexible with our tactics, Your Grace,” Neia replied. “We’re light cavalry, after all.”

“Then it’s settled,” the Duke smiled tightly. “I can’t wait to see what those royalists look like when they finally choke on their greed.”