Chapter 11

Ilyshn’ish continued following Nemel around on her tour of Warden’s Vale and its nearby villages. As evening fell, they returned to the minion base and Nemel went out to subjugate three more Goblin tribes. This was achieved through means suitably arrogant for a minion leader: flying high overhead while nullifying their pitiful projectiles with a casual wave of her hand. She then rendered the tribal leaders helpless in a domineering arcane display. Now, Nemel had just as many Goblin minions as Human ones.

According to her boss minion, a larger population would make activities in the settlement more ‘economical’. Division of labour was more efficient and minion instructors could teach larger groups of neophyte minions at once. Like the Human Lords of the Sorcerous Kingdom, the imperial scion seemed to naturally pursue the raising of more minions for her nascent minion empire.

“You’re so much more energetic than before,” Ilyshn’ish noted from her throne of logs.

“Hm?”

“You’ve reached an unprecedented level of aggression.”

“After everything that I’ve seen,” Nemel said, “can you blame me? My target before was some longhouses and workshops before winter so my people wouldn’t freeze. With Undead labour, we can be there in two months instead of two seasons! The problem now is, well, labour. At the projected rate of clearing, we’ll have a crazy development backlog. Bringing in settlers from the Empire will help alleviate things, but it’s just not enough.”

“So you plan to train Goblins,” Ilyshn’ish said. “I can’t say that this is the brightest of ideas, in more ways than one.”

“They don’t have to be geniuses at their work,” Nemel replied. “There are a lot of low complexity tasks that Undead labour isn’t capable of. If they can do that reliably, it frees up Human artisans for other things.”

Out of the Goblins Nemel had conquered, seven were ‘mystics’. Fourteen were verified Rangers, leaving eleven ‘generic’ Goblins with the basic camp skills common to all Goblins. Two of them were identified to have magical potential by Fendros and set aside for magical training. The rest Nemel hoped could be taught vocational skills by the Human migrants.

First, however, came basic education. After looking at the schoolhouses around Warden’s Vale, Nemel purchased a hundred slate boards from the harbour’s general store. Boxes filled with sticks of limestone were procured as writing implements. The Human settlers were all provided with one to assist with their work and the Goblins were all provided with one to aid in educational instruction. Others served as notice boards or went into the workshops and storehouses to help keep track of production and inventories.

In addition to their other duties, Fendros, Elise and Ida would teach reading, writing and arithmetic. Since the literacy rate amongst Humans in the north was poor, two-thirds of the migrants attended too. Classes would be held in the evening and a roofed-over area was being raised for that purpose.

“What are you envisioning for your first village, exactly?” Ilyshn’ish asked.

“I don’t have an exact idea of what I want,” Nemel answered, “but I thought those elevated and walled farming villages were amazing. The Lichtowers, especially. This site we’re camped on will serve as the main harbour for the territory, so it will end up as a town. I’d like to see a scaled-up version of what we saw today here.”

“Why do you like the Lichtowers so much?”

“Something about them just tickled my fancy. I’m definitely going to build a bigger one for this harbour. The Druid grove they recently planted in the Lizardman village is a must, too.”

“We seem to have drifted far from potatoes…”

“W-we’ll have those too, of course!” Nemel said defensively, “Some other crops will be necessary, plus livestock like chickens and cattle for eggs and cheese. Being able to cook up a decent meal out of our produce alone is a good goal, I think. Beyond that, I have to figure out what advanced industries we should focus on.”

Always being able to have a good meal was a good goal. Humans often overlooked the simple things that would make them happy for bigger things they could never reach.

“What are you considering?”

“Well, our development will be tied to Warden’s Vale. Trying to compete with that huge foundry would be impossible and our timber exports would be a sliver compared to theirs once we’re done clearing farmland. If we’re trying to match the desired demographics for Lady Zahradnik’s demesne, there will be all sorts of magic-related industries to consider. I was hoping you had some ideas.”

“Me?”

“You’ve lived for far longer than I have, so you must have seen all sorts of things. Plus this is your domain, right? You’re obviously doing something supernatural to it so it may result in features exclusive to this territory.”

“Snow and ice are exclusive to this territory for most of the year. Or at least they were.”

“Er, I was hoping for something more…mystical? Precious herbs infused with elemental mana or crystals that grow on the cliffs. Stuff like that.”

They sounded valuable, but Ilyshn’ish wasn’t sure if anything she had seen in the past century or so matched the description. Despite Nemel’s assertion, Ilyshn’ish hadn’t done anything like picking up random herbs and minerals to see what Humans would pay her for them.

“You may want to conduct some research on that,” Ilyshn’ish said. “I believe the best bet is to see what the Adventurer Guild’s Azerlisia Expedition has turned up. It was my father’s old domain, after all. Did you have any ideas of your own that you feel particularly attached to?”

“Well, I’m from a long line of Wizards, so it’s all magic-related. Honestly, having a cosy community of magic casters comfortably distant from the big city has a charm of its own. I could relax and conduct research in my tower, eating potatoes every day. Doesn’t that sound nice?”

“I’ll have you know that, while I can eat anything, I prefer meat.”

“Th-then it can be meat and potatoes!” Nemel told her, “The point is that I’ll be able to pursue my personal goals instead of working to make ends meet every day. Not that I won’t be doing my job, but having leeway in life makes a big difference in one’s outlook.”

Aside from the potatoes, Ilyshn’ish thought she could agree with that.

A small column of Goblins arrived at the camp, depositing bundles of freshly-cut firewood into one of the storehouses. Ilyshn’ish watched the orderly line of Demihumans make their way back out to the edge of the clearing.

“I can’t say I’ve seen Goblins behave like this before,” she said. “They’re usually more…chaotic.”

“Really?” Nemel didn’t look up from her paperwork, “I thought you told me about the Hobgoblin thing because you knew about it.”

“Well, understanding that Lords project certain effects on their tribes isn’t the same as seeing it in action.”

“I suppose you’re right about that,” Nemel murmured. “Stories about Goblin armies are commonly known, but this is one of those cases where the truth is stranger than the tales. I treated them like soldiers and they just naturally played the part. They aren’t exactly like Imperial Knights, but there are far more similarities than there are differences. In a way, it’s scary.”

“How so? They’re still just Goblins.”

Nemel threw a look over her shoulder before focusing on her work again.

“Alright, maybe to a Dragon they aren’t scary, but as a Human, it’s scary. We see them as a sort of non-threat unless there are a lot of them around and we think they’re stupid and primitive. But all it takes is a single Hobgoblin to rally all the Goblins in an area and transform them into an army. If they manage to raid a cache of equipment or enslave some blacksmiths, you have a very real problem brewing. Companies of Goblins can strike all along the frontier and fade deep into the forest where it’s practically impossible for Human armies to hit them back.”

“Do you think they can threaten other races like that?”

“Of course,” Nemel nodded. “Humans take pride in the idea that equipment, martial discipline and magical expertise allow them to stand up to a world filled with savage threats stronger than they are.”

Ilyshn’ish scoffed.

“Not everyone can be strong, Dame Verilyn,” came Nemel’s reproachful reply. “Most people are weak. Goblins are even weaker than Humans. That thing that I said before…people don’t really seem to consider it, but the use of equipment, martial discipline and magical expertise are not exclusive to Humans. It makes me hopeful for these little guys.”

“Hopeful, hm…”

“Yes, hopeful. They just seem to be natural at fitting into larger organisational schemes. Maybe that’s why you see them everywhere. Except in Human lands. Imperial citizens see them as dirty and stupid, but it’s more like they’re uncomplicated? That can actually be an advantage.”

“Well, I can’t say I disagree with that idea, but how does it work to their advantage, precisely? As you’ve noted, they’re not Frost Dragons.”

“Take their whole propensity to form armies once an ‘officer’ appears, for instance. In the Imperial Army, the Sergeants spend a lot of time breaking in new recruits. It’s not just training them how to use a spear and stand in ranks, but all sorts of mental and physical conditioning must happen as well. A commoner off of the street comes in with modes of thinking that aren’t suited for military service. They’re not loyal to each other and lack aggression. They’re not receptive to command authority, which means that they don’t receive the full benefit of their officers.”

“Does that mean Human Adventurers are different from Imperial Knights?”

“They’re very different,” Nemel said. “They say that a veteran Imperial Knight is about as strong as a Silver-rank Adventurer, but an army of ten thousand Silver-rank Adventurers would lose one hundred per cent of the time to an Imperial Legion of the same ‘strength’. Adventurers only train to fight as small ‘units’ at best, while Imperial Knights are components of a fully functional army. It would be a one-sided victory.”

“So you plan on raising a Goblin army.”

Nemel blinked at Ilyshn’ish’s conclusion.

“Er, no?” The boss minion said, “It’s more that I think ‘Goblin nature’ can be harnessed for other tasks. They have that ‘uncomplicatedness’ that allows them to naturally exist in the state that the Imperial Army works so hard to instil into its recruits. I think it would make them ideal for squad tasks.”

“I see. That’s why you’ve divided them into groups to labour around the camp.”

“It won’t stop there,” Nemel said. “Once they get their basic education, they can be trained in various vocations. If I’m right, they’ll become an industrial force to be reckoned with.”

“So you’re exploiting the nature of the Goblin race to your advantage. You’re becoming more and more like Lady Zahradnik.”

“I-I’m not exploiting them. Not in a bad way, at least. They’ll become productive citizens and their quality of life will improve. It’s a mutually beneficial arrangement.”

“To a point. I understand that you wish to be ‘good’ to your subjects, but everything that you’ve mentioned doesn’t address some fundamental issues.”

“Such as?”

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Ilyshn’ish tilted her head curiously at the Human Lord.

“Your wilful Human blindness is getting to you again,” Ilyshn’ish told her. “For some reason, your race believes that growth is unlimited. What happens when this benevolent society of yours reaches the limit of what the land can support? Will you send your ‘spares’ to the city to be conveniently forgotten just as the Humans of the Empire do? Turn your problem into someone else’s?”

“That would take a long time.”

“It will happen eventually. Or is this more of the same? A problem for someone else since you’ll have long expired from old age? That bylaw you’re so scared of – the one that allows subjects to eat one another in specific parts of this territory – exists because there is no solution to that problem aside from controlling the population. I’ll have you know that I have no intention of eating hundreds of thousands of Goblins a year. I’d become fatter than Hejinmal used to be. I might turn green, as well.”

Nemel set down her work, getting up and sitting down again to face Ilyshn’ish.

“What do Goblin tribes usually do when there are too many for the land to support?” Nemel asked.

“They raid if possible. When resource shortages reach a certain point, they have to migrate or starve.”

“If they migrate as skilled work teams, I’m sure they’d be welcomed elsewhere.”

“That may be true, but, in the end, it’s a dream that requires constant expansion. I’m not sure if the Sorcerous Kingdom allows its constituents to independently declare war on other countries…”

“…but I’m not raising a Goblin army for that,” Nemel told her. “Didn’t you say you’d be satisfied so long as you got your taxes?”

“I did. I’m just pointing out some problems inherent to your ‘benevolent’ plans. At some point, you won’t be able to afford that same benevolence.”

“What if I just implement population controls some other way? Limiting the number of children each family can have, for instance.”

“If you could do that all along, why do you have so many spares in the Empire?”

“Well, children aren’t guaranteed to survive to adulthood, but it’s mainly inheritance laws, I think. Men inherit before women, so it’s a cultural norm for those who wish to pass on their wealth to have at least one male heir and one male spare. That means the average landlord or tenant has three to five children to get those two males.”

“But only having two children means that even if something happens to the heir, the spare inherits regardless of whether they’re male or female.”

“It doesn’t work because the heir inherits the entire estate. What happens in your scenario is that you have the female heir getting married to another heir to consolidate the estate, resulting in more land, power and influence for their heir. From there, it happens more and more frequently until you have territories that were once carefully divided by a liege belonging to one house, resulting in powerful political and economic players that shouldn’t exist. It’s a recipe for chaos and a good Noble will act to stop the formation of a potential monopoly.”

Ilyshn’ish idly scratched the bark off of a log beneath her. In a desperate effort to pass on what one generation possessed to another, mortals devised all sorts of silly schemes that resulted in similarly silly behaviour.

“In that case,” Ilyshn’ish yawned, “can you think of any solutions?”

“New legislation for new realities, I suppose,” Nemel replied. “It’s easier said than done, though. Those in power stay in power because the law affords them that power and that power allows them to maintain what they consider a desirable status quo. Honestly, most people in the Empire are preoccupied with living from season to season, so not many call for change. The Emperor rules with an iron fist and his laws and policies support a country where men dominate politically and economically. Rumour has it that he despises the two female sovereigns in the region, as well as the remaining unmarried princess of Re-Estize. Considering his habit of purging his opponents, no one dares to openly propose change.”

“But this isn’t the Empire,” Ilyshn’ish told her. “Also, the majority of the lawmakers in the Sorcerous Kingdom are women.”

“That might be true, but I barely know anything about this country. I don’t want to run around pushing for change out of nowhere. I’m not even a Noble, technically – just the seneschal of one of the gentry. No one would listen to me.”

Whatever confidence Nemel had seemed to only extend as far as the limits of her authority. It was a strange quirk of many Humans: they chained themselves to arbitrary rules and principles even when no one else watched or cared.

“Lady Zahradnik would probably listen to you,” Ilyshn’ish said. “She listens to pretty much anyone when it comes to proposals for improvement.”

“As if that isn’t scary enough,” Nemel laughed nervously. “Maybe I’ll try when I feel more comfortable here. Having a few successes under my belt will lend me more credibility.”

Scary? Human lore was rife with Nobles who were portrayed as unapproachable, be they benevolent or malevolent, but even children came to Lady Zahradnik with their ideas. Maybe she was missing something.

“If that’s what you think is for the best. So all of those laws that I memorised but don’t quite understand are still going to be in place by the time I get back, right? Unknowingly breaking a new set would result in all sorts of suffering again.”

“…suffering?”

“Please don’t make me recall it.”

“Sorry. Um, I didn’t know you were going anywhere.”

“Lady Shalltear is sending me southeast to the Beastman country next to the Draconic Kingdom. I know nothing about it and I have no idea how long I’ll be away for.”

Nemel frowned up at her. That wasn’t a good sign.

“Doesn’t that country constantly eat people from the Draconic Kingdom? I hear Queen Draudillon asks the Empire for help on occasion.”

“What do you know about them?”

“That was about it. I don’t think the Empire has ever responded to those calls for aid. I’ve never read any materials on the Beastman country in the university libraries either. I don’t even know its name. Anyway, with whom will you be going?”

“…that’s something I’m trying to puzzle out. I can’t exactly bring Humans there if I’m going to lose them to predation as soon as we cross the border.”

“Well, if it’s a Beastman country, then why not bring Beastmen? Quagoa are mole Beastmen, right?”

“I have a feeling that won’t work. From what Lady Zahradnik said, it’s populated by big predator-type Beastmen. They’d probably see Quagoa as food.”

“Are there any Beastmen that would fit in?”

“There are, but…”

“…but?”

“They’re the Krkonoše.”

“I have no idea what those are.”

“You know, the evil little sheep that I talked about.”

“‘Little sheep’ sound like food for big predatory Beastmen…”

“Hah! I’d like to see them try. The ones I’m referring to are big spotted felid types, though. The two races are collectively referred to as the ‘Krkonoše’ by Lady Zahradnik. I don’t think their actual names can be interpreted into any form of Human speech.”

They had a way of speaking between themselves that Ilyshn’ish found highly intriguing. Rather than using words, they conveyed pieces of themselves somehow. If Frost Dragons could communicate like that, sharing information would be a lot easier.

“Then why not just invite the felid Krkonoše?” Nemel asked.

“…can I do that?”

“Why are you asking me?”

Could she do that? Both races were reclusive, but it was the sheep that made the most terrible impression. If she brought a group of felid Krkonoše to the Beastman country, things became convenient in various ways. Even out-of-place behaviour would be shrugged off as the quirks of a group of foreigners. If she did the same thing alone, she might be discriminated against and Lady Shalltear would punish her severely for her lack of progress.

Ilyshn’ish gazed up at the evening sky, trying to imagine what it would be like to be picked on by Beastmen, but the only related experiences were watching cats and Krkonoše stalking and killing their prey. She replaced the memory of a dead rat dangling from a cat’s jaws. Then she replaced the rat with a pitiful-looking Frost Dragon. A shudder rippled down the length of her body.

“Are you alright, Dame Verilyn?” Nemel’s worried voice rose from below her.

“Do you think they’ll become my minions?” Ilyshn’ish asked.

“I thought you were looking for someone to travel with,” her minion frowned. “Not become your minions.”

“But you became my minion when you travelled with me.”

“I became your min–vassal for an entirely different reason! Well, I’m fairly certain that most people would become your minions. Actually, no: they’d become your minions for the entirely wrong reasons.”

“What reasons might that be?”

“…sex.”

“Huh?”

“Don’t ‘huh’ me!” Nemel scowled, “You knew exactly what you were doing in the Empire! You played so many people with your ridiculous charisma that I stopped counting after Oestestadt. Even I thought I was going to be…”

“…going to be what?”

“N-nothing!”

Ilyshn’ish had been relying on intuition, limited knowledge and raw skill in the Empire, but Nemel made it sound like she was scheming the entire time. Beyond that, the Empire was uniformly Human – she wasn’t sure how she could appeal to so many different races in the Beastman country the same way. She supposed it was worth a few attempts.

She rose and arched her back, stretching her wings and tail with a wide yawn.

“It seems that there’s nothing left to do but try,” she said. “Is there anything else you need from me before I get going?”

“I thought you were here to lord over your minions.”

“I was. It doesn’t invalidate the question, though.”

Nemel rose from her seat, brushing off her skirts and looking around the camp.

“We should be alright for now,” she said. “I can always Message you if something comes up, right? The eastern border of the Draconic Kingdom shouldn’t be more than a few hours away for you…”

“I’ll take your word for it, but that doesn’t mean wherever I am in the Beastman country will be a few hours away. I can always come back in an emergency, though.”

“Thank you, Dame Verilyn.”

Her boss minion curtsied as Ilyshn’ish launched herself out of the clearing and took wing. She eyed the slopes of the nearby mountains while she ascended above the peaks.

How do I even know which ones are decent? Do the best ones have the shiniest coats? Maybe I should just try the largest ones…

Differentiating Humans was difficult enough. Gauging them by their apparent strength alone didn’t guarantee quality. Merchants and artisans were generally weak, yet they did all sorts of useful things. One had to figure out how each vocation decorated themselves and their establishments to display their significance, and even then there were those who purposely or inadvertently concealed it.

She eventually spotted a pair of Krkonoše Rangers: the same pair who made their territory in the high ravine along her northern border that she sometimes conversed with. They watched her land from their rocky den concealed in a stand of conifers and thick shrubs. They had little in the way of garb beyond woollen loincloths fastened by rawhide belts holding several containers and tools.

“Ahem, excuse m–”

“We are not interested in becoming your ‘tenants’, Seeker.”

Maybe she should have used ‘minion’ instead. It had a far nicer ring to it than ‘tenant’. Humans just didn’t know how to make an impression.

“Ah, I didn’t come about that,” Ilyshn’ish replied. “I am going to a distant land of Beastmen and I desire companions to travel with. Might you be interested in seeing new and exotic places? Or perhaps know someone that might be interested?”

The two Krkonoše Rangers exchanged looks. The female of the pair padded up the slope and disappeared into the trees.

“We know of someone who would be interested,” the remaining male said. “It should not be long before my mate returns with him.”

Ilyshn’ish brightened, her tail waving lazily in contentment. She appeared to be off to a good start.

“Oh, wonderful!” She said, “If I got it right, your name was something like Pinecone? How was the winter?”

“There was no hardship,” Pinecone replied. “The conditions of your territory drove many animals to our side.”

Maybe freezing the entire thing had been a bad idea. She wondered how many of her resources had run away. If only she had something like nuk. Maybe she could grab a few young ones from the Azerlisia Mountains and start a herd.

The female Krkonoše Ranger – whose name was some sort of smooth grey pebble of a certain size with distinct features – returned after a half hour. To Ilyshn’ish’s great dismay, Pebble flew back with one of the Krkonoše Druids. Ilyshn’ish scales flattened and her wings unfurled nervously as the murderous sheep thing approached.

“This one will travel with the Seeker,” it declared with a bleat.

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The Magocrat

Out of the many societies around the world, it is not only primitive forms of tribal culture that give rise to Classes born from the need for leadership and stability. When a significant sphere of civilisation begins to embrace magic and institutions for the arcane arts are established, a new need arises: one left unfulfilled by what came before. Into that void, the magocratic elite make their appearance.

No mere Wizard secluded in their lonely tower or free-willed Sorcerer prone to personal whim, the Magocrat is as much a leader as a mage. It is not magic that comes first to the Magocrat, but the communities that they serve.

They are not necessarily founded in aristocratic institutions, but it is more often the case than not. Much like the Noble Fighter, Magocrat Job Classes are not base Job Classes, but Prestige Classes with specific cultural qualifiers. Additionally, as Noble Fighters have a school of combat and favoured weapon category, Magocrats choose a specific field of study and may specialise in a school of magic. As such, Magocrats can vary widely despite all possessing the same Job Class, much like Wizards and Sorcerers.

All Magocrats share several common aspects, however. As leaders of civilised society, they possess the same bureaucratic, diplomatic and cultural aptitudes as their non-caster counterparts. They may use their charismatic power to inspire the masses or instil fear. They have an appreciation of arts and culture, and their balanced approach to progress and governance lays the foundations for the further advancement of society.

Be they a humble bureaucrat working in a remote frontier court, an Archmage who reigns over the battlefield, or the grand vizier of a vast empire, the goal of the Magocrat is the same: they bear the torch of arcane culture, bringing the light of magic to a dark and mundane world. Their wisdom, artifice and arcane might invariably fuel the rise of powers ascendant.