Chapter 12

The interior of Gudrun’s dwelling was nearly as bare as the face of the mountain looming over it. Its four walls were made from ice, and supplies were lined along one side. What appeared to be beddings formed from piles of furs filled the back. Unlike the dwellings of other Demihumans, no fire pit could be found.

Gudrun ushered her in before replacing the slab over the entrance. It fit poorly, though with Frost Giants being immune to cold, Ludmila supposed that all they required was to keep the wind and blowing snows from making a mess of the place. Using one of the furs stacked nearby, Gudrun swatted a section of packed ice clear of loose powder before throwing the fur on the floor.

Is that my seat?

As if to answer her unspoken question, the Giant gestured to the fur before seating herself.

“The customs of your kind are unknown to us,” Gudrun’s voice reverberated off of the icy walls. “I would also offer you hospitality, but I have heard that Humans do not prepare their meals in the same way as my kind.”

With Ludmila’s first impression of the Frost Giants still fresh in her mind, Gudrun’s behaviour struck a stark contrast. Offering a meal – be it in a home or at a campfire – was a cultural practice that expressed the host’s desire to welcome a guest. It was common amongst Humans, and it seemed that some Demihumans enacted such behaviours as well.

“Your people have never encountered Humans before?”

The idea had not occurred to her. Ludmila lived in a place where Demihumans lived in tribes along the frontier, and she always thought that she was the one who saw races that she had only ever heard of or were completely unknown. The recent invasion of the upper reaches brought a new race with it, but members of that race did not seem surprised at the existence of a Human. More than that, they all seemed to view her with hostility, indicating a history with her kind.

According to the Temples, Humans were on the verge of extinction before the arrival of the Six Great Gods. There were tales of places that raised Humans as chattel, but it shouldn't be a surprise that there were also places where Humans were entirely unknown.

“A long time ago,” Gudrun replied, “the tribes to the north raided those travelling in and out of the Dwarf Kingdom. The tales tell of a race similar to Hobgoblins in size and wit, though they mentioned nothing of your habits.”

“If you're more familiar with the Dwarves,” Ludmila said, “the Sorcerous Kingdom exports food to their nation…”

Her voice trailed off. Trade with the Dwarves also brought Dwarven cuisine, but she couldn’t say that their food was exactly the same. Or even edible by Humans. The Dwarf Bread she had sent her maids out to purchase was essentially a loaf of baked gravel and now served as a doorstop.

“...exports?” Gudrun seemed to struggle with the word.

“We send food to the Dwarf Kingdom.”

“Then something like a tribute…” The Giant grew even more confused at her description.

“Do your people not trade between yourselves?” Ludmila asked, “Exchange goods and services, I mean.”

Gudrun furrowed her brow at her question, then slowly nodded.

“Yes,” she said, “we do practice trade within our own tribes.”

“But not with other tribes?”

“No,” Gudrun replied, “There is no need. Every tribe is responsible for its own well-being.”

Ludmila fell silent for several moments, reframing how she would have to go about speaking to Gudrun. The Frost Giants were a powerful, self-sufficient warrior race. They were so insular that even fellow tribes did not conduct trade. How did they interact? What sort of culture bound them together? Or was it only strength and violence that dictated order?

“If your people do not trade,” Ludmila asked, “then how did you come to hear of these tales from the other tribes?”

“Once in a while,” Gudrun answered, “we send warriors that seek to prove themselves or become curious about outsiders. These warriors are the ones that return with the tales from the north…though it is sometimes difficult to pick out the truth from some of the more boastful accounts.”

“What else do these tales say about Humans?”

“They speak of strange plunder and little in the way of prowess. Those strong enough to challenge our raiders are rare…and those powerful enough to defeat our champions are unheard of.”

Ludmila frowned as their conversation turned to matters of violence once again. Tribute; raids; the recognition of martial prowess – everything revolved around the exercise of strength. Frontier Nobles were often considered men and women who came from a martial tradition, but martial matters were only a part of her life. Frost Giant culture, on the other hand, seemed to focus on it.

“Is strength the only thing that your people respect?”

“Of course not,” Gudrun shifted in her seat. “Honour may be found in many things, but, to all things, there is an order. Strength stands at the pinnacle of order, for order cannot be maintained without strength.”

This, at least, made perfect sense to Ludmila. It was strange that even an isolated Demihuman tribe understood this basic truth when the supposedly civilized nobles of her former nation of Re-Estize did not.

Without strength, all else could be stolen away by someone stronger. The service of Frontier houses like their own; the unnoticed intervention of the Theocracy’s Scriptures; the mostly peaceful interactions with their neighbours. All these, combined with the legal structure of the Kingdom’s administration, led to the rise of a culture mired in complacency and ignorance.

Compliance was considered peace. Numbers were seen as strength. Wealth was mistaken for prosperity. In the worst cases, nobles followed the path of House Fassett: turning their delusions into a nightmarish reality. Ludmila couldn’t be certain just how far things had progressed in the rest of Re-Estize – it couldn’t be that terrible everywhere, considering the country hadn’t imploded yet – but things were certain to grow worse until something changed. Rather than capitalizing on their advantageous situation, the nation had, by many accounts, fallen into decadence and corruption.

Ilyshn’ish’s scathing retort about Human ‘civilization’ and the ‘primitive tribal societies’ of Demihumans echoed in her mind. As Gudrun had stated, strength was required to maintain order. The Frost Giants might have existed for countless ages under the unbreakable rule of their strength.

Human society, however, seemed like it fell away from that maxim. Frontier Nobles were required to pioneer new lands and defend borders, but progress and development led to their decline. In their place were civilian nobles who were incapable of defending their lands from both external and internal threats.

The Theocracy had seeded the northern kingdoms in the hope that they would bear fruit for humanity, but what had grown instead were nations ripe for the taking. If the efforts of the Scriptures faltered, the doom of humanity was assured. But then the Sorcerous Kingdom appeared.

“As a representative of the Sorcerous Kingdom,” Ludmila said, “I would like to gain some insight on your people. How are your tribes ordered? Are there castes or some similar hierarchy?”

“We are ordered in threes,” Gudrun said.

“Threes?”

“Yes,” Gudrun nodded, “threes. The number three is sacred to our people, as is nine – three sets of three. There are three castes: warrior, priest, and worker, who each see to their own ways. Every steading has three longhouses, and every village has three steadings. Each village is ruled by a Baron, and three Barons answer to an Earl, who rules the tribe from his citadel. There are three tribes for each of the three regions of the Azerlisia Mountains – nine tribes after the nine realms of our lore.”

It was a lot of threes, but it did make things easy to remember.

“Wait – this isn’t your home?”

“This is a supply depot.”

Ludmila turned her gaze away in embarrassment. The savage nature of the Frost Giants that she had been exposed to had set her expectations unreasonably low. In hindsight, there was no way a race capable of smithing armour and weapons dwelled so simply. She wondered if she would be able to see what their homes were like.

“You mentioned nine realms,” Ludmila said. “Does that mean that there are other places in the world with Frost Giants?”

“There are,” Gudrun told her. “Our people are not native to this place. The name of where we came from has been lost to time, but we do know that our ancestors sailed here from over the seas. The tribes of the north still retain the knowledge of crafting our longships and knarrs, though the Dragons have long destroyed our once-mighty fleet."

Knarr. It was the same word that Lady Shalltear used for the ship used by Warden’s Vale. Was it possible that Frost Giants once lived in the southern border ranges? It would explain why the same type of vessel was found there. More to the point, she had inadvertently come across potential shipbuilders in the middle of a mountain range.

“Is there someone who rules over the nine tribes? A King, or someone similar?”

“We have no King,” Gudrun replied. “It is not impossible, however. I encouraged Sigurd to unify the tribes once in a while, to little result. He was strong, but he had no interest in rule.”

“Then if the Sorcerous Kingdom were to speak to everyone, how would that be accomplished?”

“You would need to make the tribes listen, one by one.”

Did that mean she would have to kill scores of powerful Frost Giants just to make everyone pay attention to what she had to say? She had a feeling that burying everyone in an avalanche would only work once.

“This Sigurd – how did he fit into the structure of your tribe?”

“Sigurd was one of the champions of the tribe. A leader of his own warband. I think he would have preferred staying that way, but he ended up fancying me.”

“What was the problem with that? You both seem quite strong.”

“Because we are not of the same caste,” Gudrun explained. “My father forbade the union and implored the Baron at the time to uphold our ways. Sigurd, of course, thrashed the Baron. In doing so, he became the new Baron and was stuck with the position ever since.”

Gudrun chuckled at some memory only she could see, but Ludmila frowned at the account. When the Giant had spoken of Earls and Barons, Ludmila had equated it to Human systems of nobility. Rather than titles being inherited, however, it appeared that one could just bludgeon their way to the top. It also meant that Sigurd was probably about as strong as Frost Giants became if he could aspire to kingship.

“Then by defeating Sigurd,” Ludmila asked, “who will listen to me?”

“The entire village, at least,” Gudrun answered. “He was a great champion, so the whole of the Frostreaver Tribe would at least listen to what you have to say.”

“What of the other tribes?”

“They are their own tribes,” the Giant shrugged.

Meaning to say, she would have to defeat the champions of every Frost Giant Tribe just to have them listen. Or would that make her their Queen? Either way, it was almost certainly impossible for her. With this information, however, the Adventurer Guild might be able to field Momon or Nabe to accomplish the feat.

“Is there some other way?” Ludmila asked, “As a Shaman, can you speak through other Shamans?”

“Shamans are respected wherever we go,” Gudrun answered, “even those of other races. However, it is not the same sort of respect as that which is won through a warrior’s challenge – it is respect for the role that we play in our tribes.”

“Then is there anything at all that I can do?”

"I do not even know what it is you want, Baroness."

It occurred to Ludmila that, beyond her introduction, she had said nothing of herself at all. She just kept asking for information, aggressively looking for a way through. As was the case with many things that civilian nobles were normally skilled at, she was a horrible diplomat. If one of her friends were here, the problem might have already been well on its way towards resolution. If they had someone to fight for them, that was.

“My apologies,” Ludmila said. “In addition to extending its rule over the Great Forest of Tob, the Sorcerous Kingdom has recently entered into diplomatic relations with the Dwarf Kingdom under the mountains here, in addition to establishing trade ties. The Frost Dragons and the Quagoa were subjugated in the process, and the Frost Giants are the only remaining power of note.”

“I have heard that the Frost Dragons have a new master,” Gudrun said. “So, what is it that you want with us?”

“Two of our survey expeditions have been attacked so far,” Ludmila told her, “and your people have a reputation for raiding. The Sorcerous Kingdom has been deliberating over what should be done with the threat to their trade.”

“In that case, I would suggest war.”

Ludmila blinked several times at the immediate answer. War was usually not the first resort in diplomacy.

“There’s truly no other way? I believe that my nation would prefer a peaceful solution.”

Gudrun snorted, looking down at her in amusement.

“Peace was never an option,” she said, “and war is the most straightforward way to settle a contest of strength with all of our tribes.”

“But your people will die.”

“All things must die,” Gudrun told her. “Giants, Dragons, Humans. Even the fate of the gods is known. I have seen this before, Human – how lowlanders seem to believe that simply being alive or dead is all that matters. But simply being alive has no meaning. It is how one lives and how one dies that truly means anything, and to fall in honourable combat is the greatest of ends.”