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Chapter 6

4th Day, Lower Water Month, 0CE

It took Devi two days to liquidate her remaining inventory for a ‘satisfactory amount’. Without cargo to ship, however, their journey down the Rol’en’gorek was swift. It took a week and a half to paddle the eight hundred kilometres downriver to the border of the Draconic Kingdom with limited stops in the cities along the way.

Rana Dratha’s criers were present at each city, providing updates on the Warmaster’s progress in the Human nation to the west. Each conveyed a tale of spectacular success. Since their time on the Jorgulan front, four more cities had fallen and the Beastmen were said to be in complete control of the countryside. The plunder that made it to the cities served as proof of their conquest, though the lack of detailed information from any source annoyed Saraca more than a bit.

The criers knew what they were doing, however: the masses cared little for details – the parts that mattered to them were those that affirmed Rol’en’gorek’s superiority and the wealth that it would bring.

“I wonder what a platinum trade coin can buy me in the Draconic Kingdom…”

“We don’t know for sure yet.”

“Oh, give it up. All signs point to it. You’ve been avoiding asking directly, too.”

Saraca sighed. Most places in the world with carnivorous populations accepted the fact that Humans could be consumed. If one asked Saraca if the Beastman Confederacy viewed Humans as food, he could only truthfully answer ‘yes’. But that answer defined little and left too much to the imagination.

It wasn’t that Humans were specifically targeted, it was just that meat was meat. The same way a Goblin was meat. Or a Beastman. Unless they were tainted in some way, it would be a waste to dump them in a hole or burn them or whatever inefficient practices some societies partook in. Some places fed the remains of their citizens to livestock to create an additional degree of separation, or processed them into fertiliser by using Slimes or other decomposers, but the fact remained that they made efficient use of their people in the end.

At the same time, Humans were terrible livestock. There were any number of better things to raise for the purposes of consumption. Nuk, Nug and other related species were good examples. They were easy to raise, efficiently processed cheap fodder and grew to be twenty-four times more massive than the average Human.

On top of that, humanoid species had an easier time doing certain things than many Demihumans and Heteromorphs. The only aspect that they were generally lacking compared to most other races was their physical power, making them a poor choice for heavy labour and roles such as heavy infantry. Even so, there were humanoid groups that specialised in warfare and were able to remain competitive in their respective niches.

No matter where it was in the world or who was involved, economics eventually dictated how various species were ultimately treated. The problem was that those realisations and the resulting societal developments took time. The fact that raw power was, by and large, the determining factor for how interspecies relationships worked in the uncivilised parts of the world made it difficult for any progress on that front to be made.

How humanoids were treated varied from place to place. There were some places, like the Troll Empire, where they were still considered livestock. Of course, the Trolls did that to every race that they could capture, and the only races who truly tolerated them were races that were used to being eaten, plus some other Giantkin.

In the Minos League’s sphere of influence, Humans had transitioned to a mostly slave population, but it was weird being a Minotaur slave. Unlike most countries, the Minotaurs specifically ‘elevated’ their Human population to slave status due to the influence of the great guru that appeared two centuries previous. All of the other livestock remained livestock.

Humanoids were simply a handful out of the hundreds of member races in the Beastman Confederacy. Humanoid citizens had the same rights as citizens of any other race. Humanoid slaves had the same rights as slaves of any other race. They could vote on guild issues, assume positions of leadership, work in the bureaucracy or compete in whatever profession they wished. One’s race did not impact how one’s contributions to society were weighed.

Furthermore, humanoids were afforded the same right of travel as any other race in most parts of the world, so long as they observed the local laws. Human children who looked lost or alone were more likely to be fretted over out of concern for their safety rather than be seen as a convenient snack.

“Xoc,” he asked, “how do you feel about Humans?”

“I’ve never seen a Human before,” Xoc answered. “But they’re not poisonous, so I guess you can at least eat them?”

Saraca released a sigh. Never mind feral Humans, he was in a country full of near-feral Beastmen.

Though he had settled on that conclusion, the western regions of Rol’en’gorek did show signs of technological and cultural advancement that the rest of the country had not. The infrastructure was better and the civilian population had grasped certain concepts that were unknown further upriver.

He wasn’t sure if it was due to being exposed to the Draconic Kingdom, so he was curious to see how far the Human country had come. The ‘curios’ flowing upstream suggested that they were nothing like a civilisation that had to start from scratch because of the Demon Gods.

Of course, this also gave rise to questions as to why that was, and it seemed that he would only be able to find his answers by taking a personal look.

They passed through the wide, overgrown canyon that Devi’s trade maps marked as the border of Rol’en’gorek. Beyond that, the roll of vellum portrayed nothing. Traffic on the river was plentiful enough, however, and their vessel slowed to join the long procession of barges heading through the narrowing river.

“I wonder why everyone’s been so closed-mouth about what lies west,” Karuvaki asked from the seat ahead of him.

“Merchants would be the vast majority of those going back and forth,” Devi answered from beside her, “And it’s a new market. They’d naturally try to monopolise what they can, and they have no obligation to share what they know. They’ll only tell you something if they think it will raise the value of their goods, so that information can’t even be treated as trustworthy for our work. Migrants won’t come back this way, obviously, and military types are usually all hush-hush unless they’re bragging about something.”

“I think the ‘military types’ you mentioned are in the same boat as the migrants,” Saraca said. “Rana Dratha uprooted his entire clan to lay claim to his conquests. Aside from a few security contractors, the bulk of the military forces in the Draconic Kingdom are subjects of Rana Dratha.”

“That guy really went all-in,” Girika said as he watched a small herd of goats picking their way over the canyon walls.

“Well, so far his gamble seems to be paying off,” Saraca said. “I look forward to speaking with him.”

Rana Dratha led one of Rol’en’gorek’s western warrior clans, so he was keen to see if he differed substantially from the eastern Lords.

They exited the western side of the canyon, and though the river widened once again, the flow of traffic slowed to a crawl. Saraca frowned and stood in his seat. On the horizon, silhouetted against the evening sun, was a huge fortress fashioned out of the same granite that made up the canyon walls.

“Humanoid city…well, Human city, obviously. Needless to say, they’re not used to receiving so much traffic from upriver.”

No banners flew from the battlements, nor were they manned by any Human defenders. Saraca looked to his right at the barge beside them.

“What’s this city called?” He asked a female Baagh who he caught staring at him.

“Th-the Humans call it ‘Eastwatch’,” she answered. “That’s what we’re using until they come up with something more appropriate.”

It already sounded appropriate to him. It was the fortress that guarded the eastern gates of the Draconic Kingdom. Thus, Eastwatch. It was a practical sense of naming employed the world round.

“Call me crazy,” Girika said, “but I sorta miss traffic jams. We haven’t been stuck in one since the other end of the Sapphire Coast.”

The source of the delay, as Saraca had suspected, was a port that was far too small to handle all of the ships coming from Rol’en’gorek. Eastwatch’s infrastructure could only service about three dozen vessels, and the wharf was crammed with people and cargo. The sun had already fallen below the horizon by the time they disembarked.

“I don’t think they’re going to let us moor our ship there,” Saraca said. “Try to find a place downstream.”

Kasturi and a few other members of his house guard took their barge and slowly made their way out of the snarl of river traffic. Saraca took a deep lungful of air, sorting out the myriad of new scents. While the smell of Human habitation was everywhere, it was old. Baagh warriors maintained order and migrants from Rol’en’gorek gawked at the surroundings until officials came to address them. He didn’t see any of the Draconic Kingdom’s citizens around the wharf, captured or otherwise.

“It’s bigger than any of the clanholds in Ghrkhor’storof’hekheralhr,” Xoc peeked out from behind him. “Did the Humans really build something like this?”

“It’s not exactly a clanhold,” Saraca said, “but yes. Most of the Human city should be behind those walls.”

They would likely be able to make sense of everything they saw in the Draconic Kingdom, but Xoc’s question reminded them that the migrating Beastmen from Rol’en’gorek probably wouldn’t be so knowledgeable. The technological difference between the two sides, however, was evidently insufficient to make up for the gap in raw power between their races.

“They sure didn’t delay any changing this place up,” Girika said as they passed through the wharf gate.

“This feels weird,” Mitra said. “It’s as if all of the Humans were swapped out with Beastmen, but it’s still Human everything.”

Everything was either too cramped or too spacious. The buildings were sized for Humans, but the wide lanes and lack of trees made the streets and plazas feel exposed. Saplings and shrubs had been transplanted to address the latter, but it would take decades to transform the city as the mystics of Rol’en’gorek didn’t know any magic that influenced the growth of plants.

Karuvaki pulled on his left elbow. He stopped to see what had drawn his wife’s attention. A small courtyard could be seen halfway down a side street.

“A temple, huh…” Saraca said as they looked in through a fence of cast iron bars, “Did they repurpose it? If I have it right, the first three cities were occupied nearly half a year ago.”

Information took a long time to spread in Rol’en’gorek. By the time Gor’lior had received word of Rana Dratha’s achievement in the Draconic Kingdom, months had already passed. Travelling in the direction of the news made it seem like the Warmaster was advancing at an insane rate.

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“Something else is going on here,” Karuvaki said. “If they had repurposed it, the local iconography would be replaced with something familiar to the new residents. This building is undamaged and well-maintained.”

“Maybe it’s a clan estate,” Saraca offered. “Temples are generally more spacious and the civilian Lords seem to have a taste for the trappings of wealth.”

Karuvaki entered the grounds without a response. Halfway to the temple’s main colonnade, a Baagh mystic appeared from within the building.

“Welcome to the Temple of Storms,” she said. “Is there something I can help you with?”

“We’ve just recently arrived,” Karuvaki told the mystic. “I couldn’t help but notice this temple. When you say the ‘Temple of Storms’, do you mean to say that this is a temple of Iškur and Víla?”

“Yes, that’s right,” the mystic replied. “Many newcomers express the same confusion, but a god is a god. The Humans also worship the Lord of Storms and the Lady of the Waves.”

“In that case,” Karuvaki asked, “would it not anger the gods that their followers are killing one another?”

“The storms and floods take all equally. They do not hesitate to wash away those praying on the riverbank.”

“I see. In that case, we should pay our respects before moving on. We have a long journey ahead of us.”

Gods were worshipped for different reasons; often out of the desire to placate or petition powers beyond the control of the individual. Nature gods were often associated with the wrath that the elements could bring. They were more feared than they were venerated, though it did depend on how local religions incorporated them into daily life.

They went over to a side chapel, which was softly illuminated with blue magical lighting. An ephemeral, Human-like figure carved out of white marble stood within, dressed in flowing cloth. She wore a serene expression as she played the lyre in her hands. As with the rest of the temple, the statue was fastidiously maintained.

Offerings lay on the floor around it, nearly obscuring the script at the base. Wrathful elements aside, Víla was considered the personification of the Rol’en’gorek: the mother of all life in the primitive Beastman society.

Mitra’s voice rose softly in song. She translated the inscription aloud.

“Víla, Eternal Mistress of Crystalline Waters. Huh, they got the name right, at least. What do you think, Karuvaki?”

“I think we should take a look at the other temples here,” Karuvaki replied. “Since the Humans of the Draconic Kingdom have a writing system, we should be able to get a good idea of their spiritual lives from looking at temple frescoes and such.”

They lingered at the Temple of Storms for another half hour, making what they could out of what they saw. The presiding mystic unsurprisingly wouldn’t let them into the temple’s administrative offices, so they weren’t able to take a look at any of its records.

As they continued down the row, they found that not all of the temples in Eastwatch were in such good condition. Those whose gods were not shared by the migrants from Rol’en’gorek were looted and repurposed into makeshift estates for prominent individuals. Of the ones that remained unscathed was predictably a temple to the four elements, which were referred to as the Four Great Gods by the Humans.

Another temple was something of a curiosity: a god of life and a god of death had been attached to the ubiquitous elemental pantheon and rebranded as the Six Great Gods. The temple was heavily Human-centric, to the point where one might consider it a temple for Humans rather than a temple of the gods. As the two extra gods were unfamiliar to the migrants, their representations, icons and art had been looted or defaced much like the other temples of other unfamiliar faiths.

Many of those faiths seemed familiar to Saraca and his entourage, however. They had likely trickled in from the rest of the continent over time.

“It seems like the Draconic Kingdom is far better connected to the rest of the world than Rol’en’gorek,” Saraca said.

“Not that any of those connections helped them,” Girika snorted.

“Since they’re on the coast,” Devi said, “it was likely Merchant traffic and individuals travelling with those Merchants spreading ideas. This goes a long way in explaining the stark technological differences between the Draconic Kingdom and Rol’en’gorek.”

Staying connected to the world at large was instrumental in recovering from calamitous Cycles. A region might be devastated by some natural disaster, a god-like being, or a dearth of monsters, but the way that major civilisations spread their Merchant networks meant that a devastated region was a region ready for exploitation that wasn’t possible previously. A society so connected would quickly get back up again, even if everything was destroyed.

The question was which civilisation it was. If the Draconic Kingdom was part of the Syrillian Way, then the most likely answer would be the Sapphire Coast. Another possibility was that, since the Worldspine ended somewhere nearby, they were influenced by the overland trading empires that plied the Great Northern Steppe. The latter was a concerning thought, as it meant that the hegemony of the Minos League – the great empire of the Minotaurs next to the Beastman Confederacy – had already touched the lands beyond.

“Keep an eye out for any Minotaur technology,” Saraca said.

“Hmm…I suppose the Worldspine is no longer an obstacle past here,” Devi said, “but the people in Rol’en’gorek have no idea what a Minotaur is. It’s unlikely that Minos has any direct influence in the Draconic Kingdom.”

They left the temples with some questions answered, but many new ones to think about it. At least those questions were more relevant to the world that they knew compared to what rose from the state of near isolation in Rol’en’gorek.

“Looking around is fine and all,” Girika said, “but where are we staying tonight?”

“We’re in a city,” Saraca said, “so there should be plenty of inns, no?”

“Think they know what a Human inn looks like? Or care that it’s an inn at all?”

Saraca sighed. Given the structure of humanoid inns – which looked nothing at all like inns in Rol’en’gorek – one would likely be turned into a barracks or claimed as a tribal holding by the local Beastmen. Strange things happened when one set of conventions collided with another. It could be amusing to see as a bystander, but it was also inconvenient if one was looking to take advantage of one thing or another.

Following the common logic of humanoid settlements, Saraca made his way through the streets of the city to its administrative centre. Eastwatch’s layout grew more spacious and the buildings grandiose. The settled Beastman population seemed to have picked up on that, and he noted a higher percentage of tribal chieftains and well-to-do citizens in the area. His attention crossed over the new residents, focusing on the city itself.

“It looks like the Draconic Kingdom is tribal as well,” he said. “Everything about this city speaks of a stratified society ruled by the elite.”

“The structure of that society is still about one stage more advanced than Rol’en’gorek,” Karuvaki said.

“That should be expected of humanoids,” Saraca replied. “Since their races are highly flexible, they tend to optimise faster.”

“Are you saying that these Humans are better than us?” Xoc asked.

“In certain aspects,” Saraca answered, “they certainly are. The problem is that Humans have shortfalls that are difficult to make up for. Raw, individual power, for instance. An average Beastman civilian is far stronger than an average Human civilian. If a Human country is poorly developed on the martial end of things, the average Beastman civilian may even be stronger than the average Human warrior.”

“Meaning that the sheer number of migrants alone is likely a huge problem for the Draconic Kingdom,” Karuvaki said. “Humans can’t use civilians as fighting power like Beastmen can – not that you should. Going by what we’ve seen so far, the Draconic Kingdom might have had the economy to support a standing army comprising one per cent of its population. If they had ten million people, that’s an army of one hundred thousand. If you throw a quarter million Beastman migrants at it with more coming every month, that army wouldn’t be able to hold out.”

“Not necessarily,” Saraca said. “It depends on the state of the army. Since Rol’en’gorek uses a military paradigm that revolves around the use of warbands, a good, professional humanoid army should be able to deal with it. If the Draconic Kingdom incorporates strong individuals into their armed forces – and I don’t see why they wouldn’t, given their situation – I dare say that it would be easy.”

“Well, that obviously didn’t happen here,” Girika said. “All those criers announce steady progress on this front. The Humans are getting their asses eaten.”

“The Draconic Kingdom’s problem is probably Rana Dratha. If he’s using his clan to support the migration, hm…”

Saraca absently observed the Beastmen in the city’s administrative district as he reviewed what the new sights in the Draconic Kingdom might mean for the bigger picture. One could say that the area being filled with elites should be expected, but the population of the city in general had a certain purposeful order to it.

“Mitra,” he said. “What’s the most detail you’ve ever heard those criers across Rol’en’gorek go into.”

“Not much, really,” Mitra replied. “The message that they deliver needs to be simple and attractive enough to stick. Going into detail would distract from the purpose and give people things to deliberate over.”

“So nothing specific about battles, the state of the migrants or the way things are organised here?”

The Chaaran fell silent, tapping her chin with a claw.

“Not a single bit of information along those lines,” she replied after a moment. “The closest thing to it are big achievements such as taking cities. No details are provided about those – only the fact that they happened.”

“That’s what I thought…”

It wasn’t shocking by any stretch of the imagination, but the criers only told people what they wanted to hear. Devi’s dealings with the Merchants and citizens along the way to the Draconic Kingdom were also generally fruitless when it came to information from the west.

“Let’s head back to the wharf,” he said. “An official there should give me the answer that I’m looking for.”

“What about our accommodations?” Devi asked.

“We’re probably not going to find any,” Saraca answered. “Not in the city, at least. We can sleep in the boat or camp at a nice location along the river.”

Back at the wharf, he wove his way through the crowds to speak to a bored-looking Baagh warrior overseeing the waterfront. His stripes had a pattern distinct to western Rol’en’gorek, and Saraca committed its nuances to memory.

“Excuse me,” he asked. “Where do we go from here?”

The warrior gave him half a glance.

“You keep going,” he said. “The lands around this city have already been partitioned between the tribes that came first.”

“How much further?”

“That changes from day to day. Just follow the Rol’en’gorek and you’ll eventually get where you need to go.”

“Are there any Humans still around?”

“I highly recommend that you stick to the river,” the official replied. “The tribes that have settled here won’t tolerate any trespassing.”

The official’s pointed warning suggested that any of the subjugated Human population had been placed out of reach of the stream of migrants. He thanked the warrior and they left the wharf, going west down a paved highway that followed the river. On the way, they crossed Kasturi and the other members of his house guard that went to find a spot for the boat.

“How far is our ship?” Saraca asked.

“Three kilometres downriver,” the Gladestalker answered. “I take it we’re not staying in the city?”

“Nope. Rana Dratha’s officials are directing migrant traffic further west.”

“This whole thing’s starting to stink,” Girika grumbled.

“I hate to say it,” Saraca said, “but it’s a valid tactic. No less valid than any tribal migration.”

“I’m not talking about that part,” the Inquisitor said.

“I don’t get any of the ‘parts’,” Xoc said. “What are you talking about?”

Saraca looked around for migrants before gesturing for Xoc to walk beside him.

“Rana Dratha’s campaign in the Draconic Kingdom has been purposely calculated,” he said. “A rumour shielded the Draconic Kingdom from any major invasions for generations. Rana Dratha could have probably revealed this earlier than he did, but he only did so when he was ready to move with his clan. Uprooting a clan is no small undertaking, and it was only because it was relatively small that he was probably able to do it at all.

“Because a small warrior clan can’t deal with an entire Human Kingdom like this one, he needed to bulk up his ‘army’. To do this, he attracted migrants from Rol’en’gorek, who are sufficiently strong and numerous enough for his purposes.”

In short, the migrants were battle fodder used to grind down the Draconic Kingdom’s resistance. Since they would have starved or lived meagre lives in Rol’en’gorek, one could argue that they were better off risking their lives for a better future. That was, in essence, what migrations were.

“And then we get to the scummy part,” Girika said.

Xoc furrowed her brow at the Inquisitor’s words, looking up at Saraca with a question on her face. He sighed and cleared his throat.

“Right. I suppose there are two ‘scummy’ aspects, though that depends on how you look at it. That officer back at the wharf mentioned that the land had already been partitioned and claimed. It stands to reason that those who joined Rana Dratha early or invested in his efforts somehow have been granted those territories. That process will repeat itself as he conquers more lands, and the migrants coming into the Draconic Kingdom can only head west to unclaimed lands.

“The migrants are used to the big clans running things back in Rol’en’gorek, so that notion is carried into the Draconic Kingdom. I’m not sure what his long-term plans are, but without a major warrior clan to challenge him, Rana Dratha becomes the de facto ruler here.”

People like Girika didn’t like these types of arrangements since they tended to exploit the poorer members of society. Since Rana Dratha was the one who laid all the groundwork and acted to seize the opportunity, however, one could say that the only thing that differentiated it from any other venture of this type was the scale and lack of transparency.

They returned to their barge shortly after sunset and decided to continue journeying through the night. The vague notion that he had forgotten to ask about something important drifted through his thoughts just as sleep fell over him.