...Outside the Village...

Neia rode back to the merchant caravan feeling pretty good about herself. There wasn't any reason not to, justice was done. When she arrived, Tinamoc was there at the head of the caravan waiting for her, and she quickly briefed him on what she'd encountered. He listened patiently, his eyes widening as he heard how she'd solved the crime, "Where did you learn how to do that?" He asked.

She smiled broadly, with her vicious eyes hidden by her visor, her bright smile gave the impression of a joyful young girl, and she answered in a cheerful voice that matched her wide smile, "In the library of Ashurbanipal."

The merchant racked his brain to search for any location he knew about, but found nothing. "Where is that? What is that?" He asked.

"It is the repository of all the world's knowledge, put together by the Supreme Beings under the leadership of the God of Justice, Ainz Ooal Gown. He graciously permitted me the chance to learn there, and the experience was..." she sighed blissfully before continuing, "Absolutely amazing. He gave me a teacher of great wisdom, and access to his tomes of knowledge, he let me learn the deep ways of coin, of justice, of law, of grand strategy, and many other things. Though I barely scratched the surface of the knowledge there, the learning I acquired has opened my eyes to how the world works in ways I never dreamt of." She could not help but keep her smile on.

Tinamoc replied with awe in his voice, "Come, ride with me up front, I'd like to speak some more." He raised his hand high over his head, and brought it down forward, and the caravan began to move again as the scouts reclaimed their positions, after having deposited Tiksin in one of the wagons.

The wind blew gently over them as they began to creak forward again, and Tinamoc looked at the world around him, the greens and browns of nature, the low stone wall, broken in places by time or demihumans, and said, "You know, I didn't grow up wealthy. I came from a village like the one we're going to." He said. Neia looked at him in surprise.

"Oh?" She said, curious as to where he was going.

He laughed slightly, with a hint of bitterness in his voice "Oddly enough, I 'shouldn't' have grown up that way, by rights with a better family I'd have had a solid education and been brought up to do this... but that is a story I'd rather not go into with you just now..." he sighed and shook his head, then continued and although Neia looked at him with curiosity, she chose not to probe, but allowed him to go on uninterrupted. "Regardless of the obstacles however, I attained my station in life because I pursued knowledge, I sought to understand why people parted with money and how they used it to best effect. I learned how to use money to make more money. I began with, of all things, turtle shells."

He laughed as he thought back, "I caught turtles, cooked the meat into a stew, and then sold the shells to use as bowls. Then I used the money from that to buy beer, which I chilled in a river, and then I took that and sold it to workers in the field when they were at their hottest." Neia listened as he regaled his way up from a basket, to a cart, to a wagon and more, "...and now here I am, the greatest merchant in the Holy Kingdom. What you talk about with your time learning under your god reminded me of how I learned my lessons when I was... well, let's just say younger than I am now." He chuckled a little as he joked about his age.

"Still," he said, "you seem to have studied more broadly than I have, in service of your master. When this is done, and the capital is rebuilt, and you have your temple, what then?" Tinamoc asked.

"Whatever my god commands of me." She said, "Though given a choice, I would like to imitate what I have heard he did in E-Rantel."

"Which is?" Tinamoc prompted.

"He established an orphanage for the children of the soldiers who died fighting against him." She said admiringly.

Tinamoc's eyes widened.

"The children... of his enemies?" He asked in almost disbelief, Neia's hands tightened on the reins of her horse.

"Yes. As I heard the story, he said that children cannot be held accountable for the sins of their parents, and he assigned one of his personal maids to oversee the entire project." Neia's voice was filled with admiration.

"That is... practically unheard of." Tinamoc commented.

"The Sorcerer King IS justice." Neia stated with iron finality in her voice.

They rode in silence for a while as Tinamoc contemplated all he had heard, and soon they arrived at the village. Neia turned behind her and shouted, "Circle wagons for the night, to the left of the village, establish camp perimeter and watch!" The wagons gradually began to divert, following her instructions as she and Tinamoc rode back into the village itself. The priest was gone, but a fair number of teeth were still scattered about, as were copious amounts of what was clearly fresh blood, the post, what was left of it, was stained as well, however the priest had died it hadn't been painless... but they'd gotten rid of the body like Neia had asked, so as far as she was concerned, everything was fine.

The arrival of the merchant caravan was a big day for the village, because merchants meant services, more tools to acquire and people who could fix the ones they already had, it meant people buying their crops and other goods, and it meant a chance to acquire materials from the city, and for the few who wanted to go out of the village and travel it meant a chance to travel with a group for greater safety.

Despite the grim happenings of the earlier events, the hardy peasants were not about to let that ruin the day for them. An impromptu festival was thrown, and trade thrived. Tinamoc for his part didn't really engage much, he seemed to prefer to watch as things unfolded, and his caravans collected coin and traded for specific goods he desired to carry forward elsewhere. Wheat was high on the list of his priorities, and the village was happy to oblige.

Neia on the other hand, went to visit with the mayor as soon as he was done paying his respects to Tinamoc, and she found him just as he was heading back to his home. "Mayor," she began, "I'm sorry that it turned out to be your priest who was responsible for Arry's death."

The mayor shrugged, "I never liked him anyway. He was arrogant, he was cruel, and he was lazy. I'm sure the temples will send another to replace him, but that won't solve our problems any more than the last one did. Blessing the ground is good, but we still need hands to work the fields and since the war we've had too few of those, and the priest's only answer was that it was a test of the gods."

The mayor let out a sigh of frustration as he walked, and Neia reached out and touched his shoulder. "I think I have a solution for you." She said, "Can we speak privately?"

The mayor nodded, and opened the door of his home, it was slightly larger than the others, having an open area with a table and a desk and several chairs, distinct from Arry's home, which had less space and no desk. A slight perk for the mayoral position, she supposed.

They sat at the table across from one another and Neia took the initiative. "I am the leader of the Black Justice faith, we serve the god, Ainz Ooal Gown, and his ideals of justice through strength."

"That sounds odd, given your earlier method of solving the murder of poor Arry." The mayor said. "You didn't exactly beat the truth out of anyone. The reality of the matter is... I'd never seen anyone do just what you did, before."

"The justice of the Sorcerer King is about more than blood and magic, strength can come in many forms, strength of mind as much as strength of body, and during my time training in his sacred halls, I learned the tiniest fragment of the arts he offers to his people. You know how he came among us to save our country from Jaldabaoth? The King of any country, risking his own life for people at all is rare, but how much more so, to do so for those who are not his own, to go to another country and personally rescue them as if they were his children? Yet he did it, and his justice made him stronger, even as our weakness made us weaker. I have come to understand that he is the true god in this world, the one true god worth following, who does not just accept our prayers, he offers us the means to have them answered. If your people will accept it, I will send one of Black Justice here to serve as a priest, and along with that," she took a deep breath, "I can also solve your manpower problem."

"How?" The mayor asked with tentative optimism in his voice.

"The undead." Neia said, and then quickly continued before he could object. "I have seen them work, mere skeletons pose little threat, but they do not tire, have considerable strength, require no food or water, a dozen undead can do in a week what it takes fifty men a month to do, and without the same cost. Your fields are not that large, fifty undead would be able to see to the whole thing."

She made her pitch, and the mayor imagined what having such a labor force could mean for production, "Has this really been done before?" He asked.

"The dwarves and the Baharuth Empire have both been using his undead for quite some time, the dwarves for mining and the Empire for both mining and farming, the Sorcerous Kingdom has been using them around Carne Village with great success, and E-Rantel has been using undead as guards, administrators, and farmers since he took over. There is precedent, and in all this time, not a single incident has occurred." She replied.

"At what cost?" He asked.

"The Sorcerer King has been renting them out and charging a percentage of the yield increase. For example, if you were to harvest ten bushels, and the skeletons increased it to one hundred bushels, the Sorcerer King only charges a percentage of the ninety-bushel increase and that leaves ample profit to be had." She replied.

"I see." The mayor said. "You have me in a spot here, I presume that when you leave tomorrow morning, you won't make the same offer?" He asked.

"I won't be here to do it, and who knows when I will come again? If you don't take this, another village will." She said astutely and looked away as if she could see another village in the distance.

She then called up her memories of her home, and her observations of her local priest. "I suppose you could just ask the temples for help, I'm sure they can send another man of the gods, maybe he'll be willing to work the plow with you?" She asked the last part rhetorically and gave him a knowing smirk. The mayor caught it, and recognizing their shared experience, he laughed at that, and so did she, even among good priests, they were useless as farmers.

"Alright." The mayor said. "Send your request to your people, ask them to send one of their own as a priest to replace the useless lump of a murderer we just rid ourselves of, and we will rent fifty skeletons as laborers on a trial basis." He said, but raised a finger firmly. “However, if they cause trouble, you bear the costs and the responsibility.”

“Fair enough.” Neia said and stuck out her hand.

He shook it firmly, noting with approval the hard calluses he found there.

"I will send word at once, but will your people accept the undead?" She asked.

"I will tell them the promise of prosperity was made by Neia Baraja, hero of the Holy Kingdom and of our village, who brought down a murderer in our midst. When they learn that your skills came from your god's instruction, I think they will be more than willing, and if they are not, I will step down as mayor." He said.

"Very well." Neia said, then she stood and removed her glove, then stuck out her hand and the mayor clasped it firmly. Each one noticed the hands of the other, calloused, strong, the product of hard work, one with combat, the other with mattock, but they saw in one another a common bond of people who had to work for what they had, and they each felt that much better about their bargain, Neia that it was right to help them, and the mayor that Neia could be trusted.

They parted ways, and the rest of the afternoon and evening was spent in comfort, though they kept a firm watch, nothing else happened, and in the morning, Tinamoc was ready almost as soon as Neia and her people were, the caravan rolled out, with people waving goodbye to the village and the village waving goodbye to the caravan, with messages left to be dispatched and goods purchased packed up, the mood was all around positive when the view of small homes was left behind.

The next few days were uneventful, which made the journey far more pleasant as far as they were concerned. Neia took advantage of the time to evangelize the virtues of Ainz Ooal Gown to the caravan, the guards had already converted en masse and were learning the Black Justice fighting style as they learned its philosophy, the merchants under Tinamoc had come to see Ainz' justice through the eyes of profit, and when Neia began to speak of coin, their eyes lit up.

"What happens if this man," she gestured to one of the merchants, "cheats everyone he does business with? Will you do business with him thereafter?" She asked.

"No. We will take him before the judge." was a persistent answer.

"And if you cannot get justice through the courts of law because he is powerful, what way is left to right was done to you?" She asked.

There were dark mutterings, but one answered grimly, "A knife in the dark."

Neia nodded. "Just so. And if an entire kingdom is so corrupt that no man can trust another to keep his oath, and no man can trust his goods will not be taken from him, and no merchant can trust that wrongs done to him, even blatant theft, will be made right... how long can trade flourish?" She asked sharply.

"It won't." A merchant answered.

"Correct," she said, "it will be a country of bandits, and even the strongest bandit is fundamentally weak because he is never secure against revenge. Thus, it is in all our interests, even where a moment's opportunity for fraud may occur, to behave honestly. Is it not inconsistent to expect to be treated justly while we deprive others of justice? The god of justice loves honest scales, honest coin and honest subjects. There is no wrong in profit, if the profit is gained in such a way that it renders strength to the society by reinforcing the common trust that must exist between stranger, neighbor, or even close held lover. For example, what happens if you employ unpaid slaves to do your work? You save money, yes, but do the slaves go out into town to buy things for themselves?" She asked sharply, and her steel yes traversed the faces of her listeners.

They looked at her as if she'd grown a second head. "Of course not," she said, "and if they buy nothing, to whom are the rest of you selling? If everybody does this, you have destroyed your market and left only a handful of buyers, and then the sellers gradually lose money, and soon the whole market collapses. But if you hire free people and pay them well, they will buy goods and help create an economy that generates new wealth by meeting their demands. It is through the justice of choice that we strengthen ourselves and paying fair wages will increase wealth for all!"

As her speech went on, she found herself grateful to the authors who filled the library, to Hume, to Smith, to Socrates and Euthyphro, who gave her the perspectives she now shared, prompting a merchant to say, "How did you... you're not a merchant, you're an archer, a fighter... and okay, yes a speaker, but we who are merchants have never heard things like this before, how did you come by this?"

"In the library of Ashurbanipal, the god I serve values strength of mind as much as body and offers it freely to those who serve his ideals of justice in creating the perfect world." She replied enthusiastically.

One of the merchants took a deep long drink of wine and set it down, "I gained my wealth by learning the ways of coin and trade, I thought my strength was in my wealth, but the truth is that my strength is knowledge, it's the same for all of us, our knowledge gains us profit, if the justice of this god of hers is able to provide the very basis of all I've ever acquired, how can I NOT pay attention?" He said. There were nods and mutterings of general agreement.

Neia went to bed quite pleased with herself. The strength of Ainz Ooal Gown and his ideals of justice were taking root along her journey. She prayed her god would be pleased when he learned of her efforts, and they did not slacken as she passed through more villages, and those who lacked priests, she offered to provide those of her denomination, and where they lacked labor, she sweetened the deal by offering the chance at undead labor, and sending out more missives for both objectives.

Most of a month passed before another real problem presented itself. As was part of the usual routine the scouts rode ahead to spy for trouble, and that was when they found the bandits. They were moving in on an actual town, not a mere village, leading to a quick decision among their ranks. Nine rushed into the town to raise the alarm, while the remainder rushed back to the caravan and informed Neia.

She turned to Tinamoc, "I know we are to guard you, but if we do nothing, we'll arrive to find corpses, and chances are we'll face the bandits anyway."

Tinamoc was a shrewd man, but not a cruel one, and he responded, "Very well, we will draw up a defensive position here, you take your people and see to the town."

The orders were barked out swiftly and Black Justice rode hard behind the scout. To their surprise, there wasn't a battle taking place... yet. Instead as they looked around, they saw an arrow leave the tree line near the town. A few minutes later, from another part of the forest, they saw it again. And as they watched, the town's militia continued to take its place along the walls, among them, Neia did not see her scouts, and after a moment's confusion, a broad smile dawned. "Those clever bastards." She said.

"What is it, Lady Neia?" One of the men said.

"It's a ruse, the scouts warned the town and then went into the woods, the arrows look like signals, and the bandits are confused, they don't know if there is another group like themselves out there with their own plan of attack, so they're waiting to see what happens. That gave us time to get here." She laughed, and pointed into the woods, "See, there is one of them over there just beyond the field, he's watching everything happen and reporting it back."

"So... what do we do now?" Her companion asked.

"Well," she said, "that depends on the bandit, if he's decisive and clever he'll realize eventually it's just a trick, and then he'll attack, if he's fearful and cowardly, he'll withdraw completely. If he withdraws, we keep a man on him to warn any other potential targets, send out word for soldiers to be dispatched to this area to hunt for him, and go about our business, I'd rather not fight him on his own ground. But if he chooses to attack, we strike as soon as he's engaged, and they give us nice clumped targets to shoot at." She said calmly, and right about that moment, movement along the forest revealed the bandit's temperament, it was a group of minor demihumans, only about two hundred in number, and looking rather the worse for wear. Considering the previous battle against a larger group of demihumans, this was going to be very easy.

She took out her bow, as did the rest of her people, and they nocked their first arrow. They held their draw patiently, breathing slowly in and out as the advance continued, then the demihumans hit the wall, she shouted, "Loose!" and a hundred arrows, followed by a hundred more, followed by a hundred more, followed by a hundred more, followed by a hundred more, filled the air before the first ones struck.

Cycle after cycle in rapid succession, augmented by martial arts to put power and speed into the shot, the arrows riddled the bodies of the demihumans. It was only then, as demihumans died screaming in shock, pain, and fear, that Neia shouted, "Charge!" and they rode full tilt towards the demihuman lines, firing from horseback as they went, wreaking havoc on the flank of the demihuman line. Numbers of them had gone down or were at least injured, but their tough hardy bodies were not easily brought low. As the distance shrank, Neia and those at her back returned their bows and drew swords. Neia's evangelical voice gave power to her war cry as she leaned forward and stood up in the saddle. She swept her sword out in a practiced manner and decapitated a centaur as easily as one would slice a melon in half. The powerful impact of the fearless hundred and one into the much weakened position scattered even large demihuman figures like a boulder rolling downhill would knock over tall grass.

She raised and lowered her sword with mechanical efficiency, striking at necks, or thrusting, stabbing at eyes, her soldiers flowed around her like water, getting at the rear of the line while the militia at the walls rained down rocks and arrows on the rest. Neia's horse took a spear through the neck and began to collapse. She, however, was already moving. She pushed herself backwards out of the saddle before it teetered all the way over and fell with a sickening thud and a desperate whinny of pain. Landing in the dirt, she crouched low and rocked back on her heels to minimize the impact, then used the crouch to spring forward at the killer of her mount and shoved her sword through his gut. He was a large centaur, thickly muscled, and though wounded he tried to grab at her blade. Neia snarled at him with a ferocity that a few years ago was unimaginable.

She locked her eyes with his putting terror into his soul as he saw the darkness whorl within them and a shout left her lips that made him quail within himself, as if she were the true monster. His body was badly weakened by the loss of his fighting spirit... and the sword sticking in it, so with the activation of a martial art, she ripped her sword to his left and opened up his gut, spilling his intestines and bringing down his tough pony body just as surely as he had brought down her own horse.

The fighting everywhere was intense, but between their constant practice, martial arts, and superior equipment, as well as the element of surprise, they began to make quick work of the unprepared foe, which prompted the defenders on the wall to redouble their efforts, caught between walls they couldn't breach and swords they couldn't overwhelm, they went from having superior numbers of fighters, to having a superior number of corpses in short order. The remaining few seemed to have a 'never say die' attitude and they fought to the last, but it was over long before the last ogre fell.

Cheers went up from inside the walls, and Neia had the distinct expectation that they'd get a very warm welcome.