Chapter Sixteen: 3000 Miles South

Month of Giving, Southern Imperial Railway, 400 miles West of Valtroy

Corvus was a peculiar man, with peculiar tendencies. While he often gave off an air of calm collection and assuredness, there were many things he was particular about, such as the temperature of his tea, and the placement of his cabin when riding a train. Situated next to a window which would predominantly face East and North, so as to not disturb his eyes with the sun, In addition to being placed at equal distance between an exit and the washroom, yet far enough away so as to not be bothered by the smell. Yes, the location of his cabin was tantamount to perfection, his tea, however, was an unprecedented disappointment.

No less than 5 degrees colder than requested, it might as well have been tepid, and that was not even to mention the fact that it had not been properly filtered, he could taste traces of tea leaves. He had been on this train for nearly 5 days, and not once had the kitchen staff brought him an acceptable brew, despite his insistence on the matter. Corvus grimaced, setting the objectionable cup of lukewarm dross back on the tray and pushing it away from him. He retrieved a little black booklet out of his doublet, deciding to read over a few of his notes. Crystal Borne numbers and statistics, peculiarities with Rorick, notes on Alric’s sister… Ah, yes, unsettling oddities between Governor Bakker’s reports and third party analysis.

Corvus glanced briefly at the wealth of scribbled information, written in such a way that only his eyes could discern it, and frowned. It was clear that something criminal was occuring, but without proper inspection it was difficult to allocate the source of the corruption, much less make an arrest, or so the Council insisted. Surely he had his suspicions, supported by paper and logic, but Melcania was not Geargandi, laws worked differently here, regardless of what his notes were suggesting.

Corvus closed the booklet, carefully returning it to its proper place, and leaned back in his seat, Closing his eyes as he rubbed his temples in frustration. Territory inspections played a vital role in ensuring that areas of the Empire remained productive, and loyal. It showed people that even thousands of miles away, the emperor’s eyes were watching, and when officials of the Council neglected this duty, delinquency and duplicity were sure to spread. Honestly, with Kgnaska being the furthest territory from the Imperial capital, over 3000 miles south of Averynce, it was not surprising to see people taking advantage of the lack of observation.

Favorably, a territory should be visited by a member of the Council once every 5 years, but Kgnaska had been willfully overlooked for a number of reasons. One being the considerable distance from the capital. And then there was the heat, unbearable regardless of the season. There were many more excuses just as trivial, however, Corvus suspected the true cause of the Council’s negligence was that no one wanted to meet with Governor Gravis Bakker.

Bakker was a… disagreeable man, to put it gently, and not one of the 20 Council members wanted anything to do with him, leading Corvus to suspect that his “promotion” to Governor, was less earned, and more of a way of keeping the man as far away as possible. Regardless, their childish remissness had caused festering in the Kgnaskan Territory, and it had fallen upon himself to take care of it. As the Chief Advisor of the High Emperor, he could think of better uses of his time. He wished more than ever to have some decent tea, something to soothe his discomfort.

The train lurched, and rapidly began losing speed. Corvus frowned, they could not be at their destination this early, he had calculated at least another 10 hours. He looked out the window, seeing nothing but sand and a handful of mud colored shacks, a few shirtless children chasing each other in what appeared to be a game of some sort. A knock came on his door.

“Chief Advisor Corvus, we’ve reached the end.” Corvus recognized the voice as one of his Imperial guards. He did not care for them, brutish thugs not much for conversation, but he was required to bring at least 2 with him during his travels.

“What do you mean, the end? We have certainly not reached Valtroy.”

“The end of the track.” The man paused, as if letting the information sink in. “When you’re ready, we’ll leave on the next leg of our journey, we have the train staff loading the mechanical transport with your luggage. We have time, but please don’t dawdle.” The man stopped speaking, but it was clear that he was still at the door, guarding Corvus from children and sheep herders. Corvus stood up, collecting the singular bag he had brought with him in his cabin, silently disgruntled by the inconvenience of the situation. The blatant oversight of the railway’s incompletion, a project that should have been finished by now, but instead stopped short more than 300 miles from the territorial capital, was an inexcusable error.

Corvus took a deep breath, counting back from 10. He ran a hand through his hair, and by the time he had opened his cabin door, he had regained his air of calm composure, wearing the sly smirk that he was known for throughout the empire. The 2 guards he had brought with him stepped aside, black armor clacking as they gave a short bow to the Chief Advisor.

“Sir.” Said the men in unison. Corvus regarded them with little interest, brushing past them as he wasted no time with pleasantries.

“Yes yes, as you were.” He kept one arm firmly behind his back, making sweeping gestures with his free hand. “Now come, let us be off. I’d much prefer to be in the capital before dark.” The guards hastily followed behind, trying to close the distance left by Corvus’ haste. “Now, I trust that there is a road for us to travel on? Lest we be at the mercy of the Southern sands.” They stepped down off the train, approaching the waiting transport that sat under the shade of the Imperial train station.“And do be sure that the transport is loaded with water. Geargandians may be exemplary engineers but they do not always take into account the subtle things that can kill a vehicle, such as overheating in a desert.” When the guards did not respond timely enough, Corvus turned, looking at the pair as one would look at a child. “Do tell me if I’m speaking too quickly for you.” He said, looking from one to the other. The taller guard stood a little straighter.

“Yes sir, The transport is topped off, and we have reserve water tanks loaded beneath the undercarriage.” Corvus flashed a curt smile, satisfied with the answer, and turned back around, continuing to the transport, the guards keeping pace behind him. “As for our route, we’ll be taking the Trade Road, it’s the main thoroughfare in the territory, nice and wide, heads directly to Valtroy from here.” Corvus nodded, absorbing the information while at the same time appearing distracted, as though he was not listening. He ran a hand along the side of the large vehicle, composed of heavy iron plates, even the wheels were entirely made of strong metal, and so wide and tall it dwarfed everything around it, stretching to the second floor of the train station. He chuckled, it was certainly a military model, and fairly new by the looks of it.

“Yes, certainly a marvel of Geargandian engineering you are.” He said quietly, as though he were speaking to the transport. He looked over his shoulder at the guards. “Very well, if there is nothing else, let us be on our way.” The guards gave another short bow.

“Yes sir.” one of them went and opened the door to the and Corvus stepped up into the vehicle, then they shut the door behind him, doing one last check around the vehicle before climbing into the driver’s cabin. Once inside, Corvus immediately noted that the interior was far more spacious than was to be expected, and much nicer, with large cushioned seats and decorative fixtures, as well as a rug on the floor and a bucket on a table next to the seats with fruits, cheese, and wine. Even the walls were lined with wood, and everything inside was painted black and gold. This was clearly a vehicle converted for political transport. He ran his fingers over the table, playing on the edge of the apples and the wine.

“Melcanian pride.” He smirked. The transport sprung to life as the guards connected the crystal’s power to the vehicle’s engine, and Corvus sat down on the extravagant seat, more a couch than anything, and settled in for a long ride. Yet, if he could endure being stuck on a train for nearly a week’s time, he could handle these conditions for an afternoon. He pulled his booklet out again, scribbling additional notes he had gathered with a pencil stick, ending them with Railway Incomplete??? Corvus looked at the note, and decided to circle it a couple times.

“Inexcusable.” He muttered, closing the booklet. The transport lurched forward, slowly building up speed until it was flying down the Trade Road at nearly 30 miles per hour. Corvus slid open the iron window next to his seat, looking out at the sands, paying little attention to the disgruntled cries of locals being forced out of the way by the monstrous vehicle. “For his sake, he better have a good reason.”

…

The afternoon sun poured through the open window of the small second story room General Kliin had converted into a study, bringing with it the Southern heat. It was a modest home of modest size, which suited him well, he had never been one for excessive living, which seemed all too prevalent in Melcanian society. The interior was clean to a military standard, well organized, and lightly decorated, honestly, he had not changed much in the home aside from clearing space for his study.

Located in the upper district on the Southwest side of the city, it was conveniently located for logistics and strategy, exactly why he had chosen it. From here, he could easily coordinate troops through the North, South, and West gates of the city, and from there it was a simple matter of accessing the Trade Road. The campaign had been going remarkably well, villages and towns all over the territory searched, suspects apprehended, and, when felt necessary, resistance silenced and set ablaze. It should have pleased the old general, to see such effectiveness of the Imperial Army, and yet, Kliin stood at the window, frowning.

Standing straight, rigid, his hands folded firmly behind him, as a commander addressing his men, gazing out at the sprawling city that smelled of fish. He had been on this campaign for the better part of 5 years, taking medicine women and blacksmiths, entire families rounded up like cattle for the empire to do with as they willed, he cared not. It was easy, and that was the problem, not the fire, not the loss of innocents, but rather the ease in which it was done. Kliin missed the war, the sounds and flashes of cannon fire and bombs, the firing lines, the armored charges, the aerial bombardments, the moans of the defeated drowned out by the cheers of victorious soldiers.

Bringing Kgnaska to heel, marching over the sands with 100,000 men at his back, tearing down their castles and their safe places, burning their halls and their banners, now that had been a campaign worthy of him. His eyes moved to the hole in the North wall, remembering the battle in which he had brought it down, allowing his men to sack the city in an afternoon, and pull the teeth from a nation. He indulged himself a smile at the thought, but it quickly faded, his lined and aging face returning to the cold, humorless face of a man of war.

“Wall should have been the first thing repaired.” Kliin muttered under his breath. The wall was only the first of many problems plaguing the city, and the territory as a whole. Bakker had run the thing into the ground, squandering its resources and wasting the potential the Empire had seen in the land prior to its conquest. The man was an odious oaf, incapable of ruling, and Kliin had sent several letters to the Imperial court concerning this, though they had seen fit to ignore the territory altogether, a fact that frustrated him, the man who had captured the land through blood and steel. It was for this reason that he was pleased to be informed that Chief Advisor Petyr Corvus was coming to the city.

Kliin had met the foreigner on a number of occasions, usually at Council meetings if Kliin was not away on war, and he had always taken him to be an intelligent, calculated man, with little attraction to finery or his own self interest. Although the Geargandian was rather smug, a dislikable quality in any man. Still, the man had great authority in the Empire, and would prove a worthy ally in his desire to dig the territory out of the mud, even if he was a low born of foreign blood.

“Sir, Advisor Desmond is here for you.” Kliin broke from his thoughts, turning slightly to acknowledge the soldier.

“Very well, send him in.” The man left downstairs, armor clacking with his descent, and Kliin returned his gaze to the city. A few moments later he heard the soft, leisurely steps of a man not built for war nor labor.

“General Kliin.” Kliin did not turn to greet him at first, keeping his back to the man.

“Desmond.” He said evenly, wanting him to get on with it and go. Kliin did not care for the man, he never had, and it had nothing to do with his character, birth, nor social standing. No, Kliin detested this man, because he was weak. A frail child of a man, feigning confidence but ultimately timid in the face of conflict, he had seen low born recruits from farming families with bigger balls. He turned, facing Desmond, his face unamused. “Well, what is it? I am a busy man, as you are well aware.” Desmond smiled warmly, as though they were friends, and gave a short bow to the general.

“Yes, I know you are rather occupied with your latest campaign, strategies, troop movements, and the like.” Kliin’s eyes bore into the man, intense, unblinking, his face hard. However, if this unsettled Desmond, he did his best not to show it. “Yet, I was hoping to be able to discuss Chief Advisor Corvus’ visit with you.” He indicated the chair situated in front of Klinn’s desk, a simple yet beautiful seat, with the smallest gesture of his hand. “May I sit?” For a moment, Kliin was silent, staring at the man with that firm, unyielding look, and Almost immediately Desmond faltered, shuffling uncomfortably. Kliin gave a nearly imperceptible smirk, and moved to pull his own chair out from the desk.

“I suppose if you deem it truly necessary of my time.” He said, sitting down. When Desmond hesitated, he indicated the other chair. “Sit.” Desmond did as he was told, sitting across from Klinn. “Now, what about the Chief Advisor’s visit warrants more of my attention? I am already aware of the…” He wrinkled his nose at the thought. “Feast, that Bakker is holding at the castle.” He raised his eyebrows in mock bewilderment. “And that it somehow warrants my attendance.” Desmond smiled again, chuckling at the general’s blunt disinterest.

“Yes, the feast will certainly be a memorable occasion, however, Governor Bakker wanted me to discuss matters of security with you.” To this Kliin merely snorted.

“You have the guard, do you not? Men trained in the defense of nobility?” Desmond nodded, tilting his head to one side.

“Ah, yes, we do, but as I’m sure you’d agree, Imperial guards are little more than thugs, more suited to roughing up unarmed peasants than actual conflict.” Kliin could not dispute this fact, he had never had much regard for city guards, fat, lazy, timid when it came to real war. “Governor Bakker was hoping that with the Chief Advisor’s visit, you would spare a few of your men. Real soldiers that can give this city a much needed sense of Imperial strength.” Desmond reached into his cloak, pulling out a black and gold booklet, and retrieved a small, rectangular note from it. He looked at it momentarily, before handing it to Kliin.

Kliin read over the request with cold, serious regard, his face betraying no signs of feeling or emotion one way or another. When he had finished, he simply set the note down on the desk, sitting straight, steepling his fingers as he stared into Desmond for what felt like an eternity. Desmond cleared his throat as though he might say something, but Kliin spoke first, as though he had been planning on cutting the man off.

“300 men?” He said, his voice calm and without feeling, indicating the paper with his finger. Kliin sighed, sitting back against his chair, frustrated with what he had to deal with at his age. When he did speak, it was with the authority of a general. “There is no need for 300 members of the Imperial Army to stand on walls and street corners just so the Governor can feel like a king in front of the Chief Advisor.” Desmond opened his mouth in response, but Kliin silenced the man with a simple, halting gesture with his hand. “However, in light of the occasion, I do agree, some added security is indeed needed if we are to be hosting a member of the Council.” Desmond smiled in relief, happy to be getting something.

“Good, good, excellent, how many men can we expect?”

“80.” At first Desmond looked at the man like he was joking, but Kliin’s eyes were serious and uncompromising, and the advisor’s smile quickly faded.

“Surely that is not enough to-”

“Between city and castle guards you have 800 men at your disposal, little more than lowborn peasants put in a suit of armor. Men of the Imperial army are trained for real war, not petty drunken rabbles, 80 will reinforce your forces better than an additional 200 guard, or 400, for that matter.” Kliin picked up a small bell off his desk, giving it a brief ring before setting it back in its place. “I will give the order to have men sent the castle to be placed under your command for the duration of the visit.” The door opened behind Desmond, the Soldier from before standing at attention. Kliined leaned forward on his desk, clasping his hands together. “Now, I have matters to attend to before the Chief Advisor’s arrival, this man will see you out.” Desmond looked momentarily flustered, he did not like dealing with the general’s dominating personality, but put his booklet away and stood up.

“General.” He said, bowing, before leaving the room. The door shut quietly behind them and Kliin was alone once more. He pulled the note closer to himself with his fingers, looking at it again.

“Hubris... hubris, greed, and moral lacking.” He scoffed, pushing it away.

…

It was approaching the 7th evening hour when the Imperial transport rolled through the West gates of Valtroy, so large it was nearly too wide for the entry, gawking onlookers stunned with awe at the sight of it, many wondering amongst themselves as to who could be visiting the city. The monstrous vehicle came to the center of the main clearing, before coming to a stop, like some great beast lying down to rest. All around the clearing were more than 50 guards, standing straight, armor clean and freshly polished, keeping citizens back a fair distance for the transport’s security. Atop the walls were no less than 30 additional men, but these were not the black and gold guards with polished steel, no, these were imperial soldiers in the intimidating all black that was known and feared throughout the world. Wielding flint rifles, the mere sight of them was enough to quell anyone’s desire to incite anything. The rest of the forces were surely watching over other areas of the city, with the majority securing the castle for Chief Advisor’s visit.

In the middle of all this was Governor Bakker, with General Kliin and Desmond on either side of him, and 10 imperial soldiers flanking them. Desmond was in his usual advisory robe, black, but with the addition of a golden sash over his shoulder and around his waist. Kliin wore his dress uniform, black and gold, and so clean and straight it looked new. On his chest were more decorations and medals than would have been thought possible, making the uniform look heavy. Yet, if it bothered the old general, he did not show it, standing firm, resolute, a man who knew his purpose. However, the two paled in comparison, to Governor Gravis Bakker.

The bloated man was dressed as an extravagant monarch, layered in rich and lavish garments of silk, satin, and velvet, black and gold, designed with images of mountain birds and flowers. On his fingers he wore many rings of gold and jewels, and around his neck there were golden chains and pendants. Atop his head sat a fashionable hat that appeared to be made out of small black feathers, probably from southern wood ravens, with the long black feather of a stone raven sticking out of the side, so much larger than the other feathers it was clear that the fearsome bird was king of the North, and why it was Melcania’s symbol.

But, despite all this excessive dress and decoration of the fat governor, nothing compared to his face. Painted in many colors, with blue and red and black around his eyes, and white on his cheeks, with golden accents, he appeared as a fool, ready to dance for the amusement of his lords. Kliin had given up looking at the man, disgusted by what he saw, and even Desmond was uncomfortable with gross excess of the man’s dress. Bakker smiled proudly though, in his mind, he was in charge, in his mind, he was regal and divine. He was the supreme leader of this land, and nothing would convince him otherwise.

2 soldiers exited the driver’s cabin, coming along the side of the vehicle and pulling open the passenger door. All at once the crowd went silent, waiting in anticipation. The man who exited the vehicle was surprisingly normal looking, not the overly dressed, pompous noble they had been expecting. Just a man, with short chestnut hair, and simple black clothes, a doublet and breeches, with long boots, with the only real decoration being a dark green and silver sash around his waist and over his shoulder. Even Bakker seemed surprised by the man’s lack of royal dress, yet Kliin and Desmond looked upon the Chief Advisor with varying levels of respect and admiration. However, the thing that took the crowd most off guard, was that this man was not a Melcanian, not a trueborn at least, and that in a clearing filled with guards and banners of black and gold, he wore the colors of a Geargandian.

Corvus surveyed the clearing, taking note of everything he saw, remembering faces, counting guards, locating theoretical weak points in weak points in the city’s defense, all in the moment he swept his gaze over the crowd. He regarded Kliin and Desmond with little interest, and then his eyes met Bakker, and his lips lifted in a wide smirk. He had been anticipating Melcanian excess, but this far exceeded his expectations, the man looked absolutely ludicrous. Corvus began walking the length of the clearing, his entourage following behind him, and the Governor and his people approached from the other end, stopping when they were about 10 feet apart. Kliin, Desmond, and even Bakker bowed for the Chief Advisor, Desmond bowing so low his nose nearly touched the cobblestones, and Corvus returned the social construct with a short, yet respectful bow, but kept his arms folded behind his back. Desmond, a little eager to speak, took a step forward.

“Chief Advisor Petyr Corvus, right hand of the High Emperor himself, might I say how honored we are to be graced by your visit.” He extended a hand out to the side, addressing Bakker. “Allow me to introduce Governor Gravis Bakker, esteemed Imperial overseer of the Kgnaskan Territory, chosen of the High Emperor in the light of the Gods.” Bakker’s ego did not need any help, but Desmond’s words had the fat man on a whole new level of pride and self importance, standing like an emperor of the South. The man regarded Corvus with less than adequate respect, though it was unclear if it was due to the man’s lack of fine dress, his foreign blood, or the threat of having a man who outranked him in his own self proclaimed kingdom.

“Petyr, as Governor, I am pleased to welcome you to the fine city of Valtroy, capital of the territory, our largest… and most profitable, area of population.” Corvus’ eyes flashed, but it went unnoticed, and he addressed the Governor with the smile of a friend.

“Yes, and what an exceptional city it is, Governor, the southern architecture is certainly a point of interest.” He gestured to the buildings surrounding the square, the white and tan bricks and red slate that made up nearly everything in the Upper District. “Now, I’ve had an exceptionally long journey, and would very much like to rest for the evening.” Bakker smiled broadly, making his face wrinkle and contort in strange and visually disturbing ways.

“Of course, Petyr, of course, we’ve had a room prepared for your stay in the castle. Desmond will show you to it once we arrive.” As if on cue, Desmond stepped up.

“If you’ll come this way, we have a carriage waiting.” They began walking to the back of the clearing to a black and gold carriage pulled by 4 black horses, escorted by a ring of soldiers. “We have been anticipating your visit for some time, Chief Advisor, and have been working tirelessly in preparation.” Desmond smiled broadly, pleased with himself. Corvus retained his smirk, but his face was otherwise unreadable. “Tomorrow we will show you the city, with the Winter season being upon us the heat shouldn’t be too unbearable.” Corvus chuckled breathlessly at this remark, as if the Southern heat was ever bearable to Northerners, but Desmond did not seem to notice. “And then we would be honored to host a feast in commemoration of your visit.” Corvus grimaced at this, never having liked events that celebrated waste and rich excess, but smiled again, keeping with societal expectations and formalities.

“Yes, yes, I’m sure it will truly be a day worth remembering.” They climbed up in the carriage, waiting on Bakker, who, in his overindulgent dress, coupled with his immense size, required 4 men of the Imperial escort to help him up, nearly tipping the thing over. Once the man was situated, the carriage pulled away, heading at a humble pace through the streets and to the castle that could be seen in the distance. Desmond continued talking about the history of the territory and other facts that he must have thought were interesting, though Corvus was worn from his journey, and found the man’s prattling rather droll. Bakker commented from time to time, laughing like a fool at his own presumed wit, and Kliin remained silent as the dead, a humorless man who was only staying at the castle for Corvus’ visit. Corvus paid little attention to the words of simple men, and rather turned his gaze to the passing streets, analyzing the people, the buildings, the events happening in the city, big and small. He chuckled, taking note of what he saw. This would certainly be an interesting week.