Volume 2: Arc 1: Chapter 2

AUTHOR'S NOTE

Thanks for all the ratings. I should have, but forgot due to tiredness, to include a thanks to the PR's of these chapters. Krndark pr'd chapter 1 for me and Kyren pr/analyzed my logic for 1-4.

I wanted to note that all these characters will be important for at least volume 2. Some all the way up to volume 4. So, while you may think this is starting a little slow, it is somewhat necessary and....nah just read it...hate to spoil the next few chapters.

September 17, 32 R.E

Rajac clutched the small, emblematic teardrop as he walked down the steps of the training hall. His cloak shielded him from the crowds as he maneuvered masterfully between the mayhem of the streets of Dabuj.

He felt calm inside.

This had not always been the case. After the Siege of Kankur and the incidents that followed, Rajac had been in turmoil. His sister…his friend. He could not understand. Unable to stay in Kankur with the memories, he left.

Rajac only told Yaka of his impending departure as he had to maintain command of the army; however, he only left a letter for his parents. Guilt still gnawed at him for that act but, even now, he could not say with certainty that he would have acted any differently. He would have spoken to his parents but, after her death, he found it difficult to face them. It was his fault, after all. He left her alone with…him.

Rajac felt a scowl form as his face as he squeezed between two obstinately thick men.

He kept in touch often with both of his parents. Guilt still tinged his memories as he thought of the long years he was unable to write his family. Rajac also frequently wrote to Yaka who gave him monthly reports on the progress of the army and the new Duke.

At the moment, there was little to warrant a return to Kankur. Even though many of the people now saw him as a hero for his actions after the Siege of Kankur, Yaka still managed the day-to-day bureaucracy of the army; further, he now sat on the Duke’s Council as the military advisor.

And, there was that reluctance. Memories flashed in his mind and nearly blinded him with their force. He shook his head once to clear it. Memories were meant to stay in the past. For the past two years, he had trained harder than he had ever trained before. Harder even than his time in the Circle.

His level rose dramatically; but, it mattered little. Even if his level reached 199, it would not matter if his soul did not grow to be 25% of his mass. Currently, it was at 17%. This was remarkable for the time-frame.

His eyes were exceptionally keen now. He saw new amalgamations of color every day he grew stronger, birds far off in the distance were clear to him, and when he fought, Rajac saw the quick, lighting speed movements of his opponents a fraction slower which gave him an inherent advantage over any evenly matched opponent.

If he was not so focused and driven to train, he would, at best, have grown his soul to 8% of his mass. Every day, he sought new challenges, overcame new obstacles, and pushed himself to extremes that many would consider torture.

Every honorable expert he came across, he dueled.

Honor was a curious word. Nobles used it as a cloak to shield the truth of their actions from the masses, soldiers used it to lift morale among their brethren, and to experts, it was a dividing line.

Many experts, especially Clients, stopped training at a certain level as they reveled in the fame of their station and the implicit power it held. These experts, Rajac never fought. They would cheat, lie, and purposefully maim or kill in order to win a duel. Their reputation was everything to them and they would protect it at all costs.

If his sister’s death and Temos’ betrayal taught him anything, it was that trust was earned and more brittle than one could ever imagine. No longer did he take a word as truth on its own. Actions were more believable.

And so, he searched for the type of men whose actions spoke the loudest of honor. Even if they were above the level 200 threshold. He lost every time to them; however, the experience he gained helped him grow his soul dramatically.

Abhar was such a man. He was known as a brutal and merciless warrior. Rumors said he piled up bodies like flies in a web. Rajac, though, noted Abhar’s pension to fight any who came before him. After he spoke to a variety of people in the city, the reputable and unreputable, he discovered most of the rumors about the man were false; his opponents, angered over their defeats, spread rumors about him to lessen his reputation.

It spoke highly of Abhar that these men were still left alive after their slanderous statements against him.

Rajac had repeated this process many times as he fought experts from all around Vashin. He knew the fights would be fair, and so, he used them to train emphatically and grow his soul dramatically.

Though, he took precautions like the hooded-cloak he wore at all times. Many of the older noble families remembered the Ventros. Most of them thought they only remained in history books. The formation of the Duchy of Kankur had not reached this far south yet as it had only been a little over a year since its formation.

Rajac would not be the one to notify the Ventros’ old enemies that his race still existed. The Clans still remembered their enemies and a fire still burned in their bellies at the disrespect they had been shown. Even if it had been centuries, the animosity between the Ventros and their enemies would rise again when Kankur’s name became known outside of the Western Territories.

War would come, whether it was with the Dukes of the Western Territories where war reigned supreme or the old enemies of the past. Time would tell. For now, peace would prevail.

Rajac sighed as he walked through the gates of Dabuj and left the bedlam of the city behind to begin his search, once again, for a new opportunity to train all the harder.

~

Yaka tapped his quill, annoyed. Even he, the archetypal bureaucrat could grow frustrated at the endless parade of meetings he had to attend as an advisor to the Duke; well, he shouldn’t really be frustrated. Today’s series of meetings were important for the future of Kankur. It was just that there were so many of them.

For weeks now, he’s been stuck in musty rooms as he overlooked and signed documents; he’d had little, if any, real freedom to oversee the army as he wished for a long time now as the economic concerns of Kankur took precedent.

With the massive influx of people from the surrounding Duchies over the last two years, Kankur expanded to include four large suburbs aptly named, the Northern Quarter, the Southern Quarter, the Eastern Quarter, and the Western Quarter.

Kankur was quickly running out of room on the top of Cera Mountain. To alleviate the problem, Duke Seras opened discussions with Duke Cajin Hephos of Poshani to purchase a one-hundred square mile section of land at the base of Cera Mountain in exchange for an exclusive trading contract with Kankur for a twenty years span.

But, the negotiations had gone sideways when both parties differed on the projected economic growth of Kankur over that span. It wasn’t as if Poshani couldn’t afford it. They were, by far, the largest and richest Duchy in the Western Territories.

Yaka looked up at the fat, balding Kinji Ambassador. An elf variant, the Kinji Race could only be described as squalid. There mismatched fur of black and yellow covered a protuberance of girth to make their rotund forms appear very non-elvish.

As the Ambassador gesticulated wildly as he spoke in a rapid manner, Yaka, dissatisfied, turned away as he wished for these meetings to end so he could return to his beloved army.

~

Duke Seras had no such luck. It was his duty to listen to the obnoxious and, some might say, foul-mouthed Poshani Ambassador.

“It can’t possibly be. It can’t…” Bastul, the Ambassador repeated stiffly.

“Ambassador Bastul,” Seras said, as he sat up straighter, his fine, burgundy robes overlaid with golden thread shifting on the rough wood of his high-backed chair.

“These terms are only fair. It is you who is being obstinate.” Sears spoke in the genial manner he used with the rowdier crowd who sometimes frequented his shop. It was meant to soothe tempers and heal bruised egos.

It had not worked yet with the Ambassador but Seras continued to try. Kankur was in desperate need of land. Duke Cajin had it. He was willing to give it to Kankur. For a steep price, that was. A price Seras continuously refused to pay. Kankur was not weak, and yet, Poshani treated it as such.

It was true Kankur’s army had fewer experts by far than the other Dukes. Currently, Kankur only had one expert who had passed the level 100 threshold. Captain Rajac. And he wasn’t even here at the moment. Yaka knew, but so far, he brushed the matter aside and repeatedly stated,

‘The Captain is off training somewhere. When we need him, he will return. I promise you that.’

And so, Seras gave the matter up. He had far more pressing concerns to deal with. Concerns, he felt, he was not qualified to deal with. Even with every success he accomplished and failure that haunted his dreams at night, the matter of the army still remained. Yaka was close to mastering Stepping Stones. He said it might be less than five years before he mastered the Ventros Sword Style.

Seras sighed inwardly to himself, two experts were not enough to face any of the Dukes on the battlefield. Even if both were heralded as geniuses within Kankur, they were no more than rare gems on the continent.

And so, the Poshani Ambassador felt like he could bully Seras to accept his deal. In the end, it might all come down to military might, Seras thought tiredly. Here, military power was true power and the other Dukes think us weak no matter how we feel on the matter.

Kankur’s economy had soared in the past few years with the influx of a population nearly triple the size of the original Ventros inhabitants. Many of those immigrants came from different duchies and races which created a cosmopolitan culture within Kankur. Diverse foods, music, paintings, sculptures, and technology could be found in any shop in the city.

Yet, the other duchies took none of that wealth into account. They only saw military might. In the back of his mind, Seras felt there was some truth to that. The Western Territories was a wild region; one that had been ruled by war for eons. And perhaps, eons still.

The Ambassador spread his large cheeks and huffed angrily, “My Lord Kankur, Poshani has been rather forthcoming about our terms. It is you who approached us. Not the other way around.”

Seras could only groan inwardly. How he wanted to throw this Ambassador and his entourage off the mountain. He could see how the men, who stood behind the Ambassador, leered at Seras’ cotiere like they were sheep surrounded by a pack of hungry wolves.

“We have offered fair terms in exchange for the land. You, on the other hand, have made only demands we cannot meet.”

“It is not so much. We only wish for our military to be allowed access to Creva Mountain. It is not such a large request. Afterall, it was you who claimed our territory without consent. Creva Mountain rightfully belonged to us; however, Duke Canji willingly annulled his claims to the mountain because he believes a partnership with Kankur is preferable.” The Ambassador said as he spread his hairy arms out wide.

Seras let his scowl form on his lips and he watches as the Ambassador’s smile falter. He had enough of this drivel. Even he, the ever-patient host, had a limit. Seras had just reached it. They had been over this point multiple times. It was, perhaps, the most awkward part of the negotiation. Creva Mountain was technically within Poshani’s borders; however, it had been many centuries since any of its residents had lived there and it was abandoned until the Ventros claimed the land as their own.

But, Poshani factored in that cost and demanded recompense for it. Sera was of a different mind. The only people who lived had lived here for centuries were the Rashak Clan; therefore, in his opinion, they held the title to Creva Mountain.

Furthermore, Poshani desired military access to Creva Mountain. Poshani knew that if their army so much as stepped on Creva Mountain, then Kankur would have, all but declared itself, allied to Poshani.

While in most circumstances, this would be a boon for Kankur; in the present conditions, an alliance without a written framework was as good a null to everyone but those who would benefit from misinterpreting the trade contract. Specifically, the other three duchies.

Multiple times, already, the Ambassador had vehemently opposed an alliance with Kankur. He stated that it was not within Poshani’s interests at the time. Frankly, it meant Poshani did not want to have to defend Poshani, as well as, Kankur.

Seras, himself, was reluctant to join hands with Poshani but if the effect was the completion of the trade contract, it was worth it; however, no matter how tirelessly he negotiated, the Ambassador wouldn’t budge.

“I think we are done here then. We will decide shortly upon the validity of the standing offer Please refer my gratitude to your Duke for taking this meeting.” Seras said slowly, his voice was a cool as ice.

The Ambassador shook his head, rose, and said, “The offer stands for one month’s time. After that, negotiations will be closed.” With that final statement, the Poshani Ambassador walked out of the room, followed quickly by his staff.

As soon as the door was closed, Seras turned to his advisors.

“Yaka, have some men follow the Ambassador down the mountain. Make sure none of his men remain behind.”

Yaka nodded and rose. Security had become a high-priority in Kankur ever since Temos’ betrayal. Even though Seras knew some spies slipped through the cracks, he fervently attempted to remove all the pests he could find.

As Yaka left, Seras turned to the rest of his advisors. Many were diplomats, bankers, and guild-masters who could not call the Ventros Race their own. But, Seras trusted them. To a point.

The one lesson, not written in any book, was that a ruler had to keep his own council. Everyone had their own agenda. Even Yaka. And so, when Yaka left to obey his commands, Seras sat back in his chair and waited.

It was quite some time before someone actually spoke. When Cagrian, one of the finance advisors spoke, it was with a cough and a stutter.

“My Lord, this deal….its…necessary. Already…we…have…chantilly constructed…housing in the Quarters to…house all the incoming inhabitants. In time…an alliance will be struck with…Poshani as it…continues to benefit from our trade contract.”

Tegoin, a Zalot, and one of the diplomacy advisors, shook his head vehemently at Cagrian.

“Poshani will do no such thing. There is no intrinsic value in an alliance, now, or in the future. Our military power is too weak for them to even consider it. At best, we would be a mere Client-State while they controlled us with puppet strings. Even this deal…” Tegoin spit on the floor as a disgusted look passed over his face. “It’s not worth it. We would loose all autonomy even if we entered the deal on its current terms.”

Rakom, a human and another of the diplomacy advisors, barked a laugh. “That makes little sense Tegoin. This trade contract is our only recourse if you’d open those bug-eyes of yours!”

The table devolved into bickering advisors. Barbs were thrown and insults remembered until Duke Seras finally had enough.

He slammed a palm down on the table as he finally lost his patience. The table instantly quieted down as all turned towards the perturbed Duke.

“You have the month to find the solution, otherwise, I will take the deal Poshani has offered. We are a standstill gentlemen; the path we take is an important one. You are integral parts of making a decision that will affect the lives of all who live here. Think wisely, my friends, for you have little time.”

With that speech, Duke Seras rose, followed by his advisors who quickly bowed to him. He took one last look at the chastened men before he walked tensely out of the room.

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