The luddite cracked sooner than Zhu expected.

Back when his devourer body was just a collection of data, Zhu constantly wrung his barbels dry. As with most things, the BLACK coalition used to have an insatiable appetite for subjugator morphine. Their arrival on Manu marked the first time their supply of morphine exceeded demand. This development gave Zhu's whiskers a much needed break. In hindsight, it should have been obvious that overworking them had diminished the quality of his mustache milk.

Still, it was rather alarming how much more potent it had become after they had gotten a bit of rest.

“Please! Just kill me! I can’t stand this anymore!” his neanderthal prisoner sobbed just twelve hours after his injection. “I told you everything I know!”

“Do you swear to Shiagaur that you're telling the truth?” Sarin asked as she dangled a vial of subjugator morphine in front of him. She pocketed the container when the neanderthal refused to answer. “Perhaps a few more hours of deprivation will help you find your tongue.”

“No! Please!” The madness in the neanderthal’s bloodshot eyes momentarily coalesced into a single point of focused clarity. Zhu grimaced at the way he longingly stared at his barbels. “At least make the pain go away!”

“You’ll get the happy sauce when you tell us something useful.”

“Fine, you bastards! I’ve been storing my tribe’s heart stones near a cave up north! I can lead you there later! Just make the sickness go away!”

“How many?” Zhu asked.

“Nearly twenty.”

Sarin rolled her eyes. “Crumbs hardly worth picking.”

“What else do you want from me?” The prisoner pounded his fists against the floor. “We are like mice compared to you monsters! You could crush us with a swipe of your hand! There is nothing I could do or say that would make it any easier for you! So stop toying with me and end me already!”

“Quit your blubbering. You wouldn’t be in this mess if you had just kept your hands to yourself. Now, do you have anything substantive to say, or should I come back tomorrow?”

Zhu jumped back when the neanderthal produced a stream of vomit.

“I suggest we give him a half-dose,” Sarin said in Lunarian. “He'll die from withdrawal if we don’t.”

“Next time I hook someone on drugs, I’ll dial back the initial dosage,” Zhu muttered as he watched Sarin administer the drug. Almost immediately, the prisoner’s eyes glazed over. “I know interrogating this guy was my idea, but I think he had a point. We already have every advantage over his pals. Picking his brain is a waste of time. Let’s just kill him and be done with it.”

“Wait,” Sarin interjected. “We can still make use of him.”

“He’s a shaman,” Zhu replied. “I don’t like the idea of keeping him inside our base long-term. Who knows what kind of magic tricks he can pull out of his ass?”

“He has told me all the incantations he can perform. None of them could do us any harm. I will take full responsibility if he causes any trouble.”

“What do you plan on doing with him?”

“He’s a valuable specimen. Sparagmos wishes to experiment with him and Tyto wants to sacrifice him to Kanghui.”

“Sacrifice?”

Sarin grinned. “Despite Shrike’s squeamishness, it appears some of her people’s customs are just as ‘savage’ as our own. Tyto claims we can earn powerful miracles by burning enemy shamans and priests alive on Kanghui’s altars.”

“Uh-huh.”

Sarin shrugged. “It sounds insane to me as well, but the zeraphs haven’t played us false so far. At the very least, we should verify if his claim is true. But only after Sparagmos has satisfied his curiosity. That filthy green wretch deserves an agonizing death after what he put you through.”

“I am more annoyed about the cockatrices we lost because of him. You shouldn’t get so ruffled over me. It’s not like I took any permanent damage.” He sighed when Sarin continued to scowl. “Fine. Let Tyto barbecue his ass and get it done ASAP. No need to make things personal.”

“Forgive my impertinence, but your leniency towards luddites hasn’t done you any favors. You need to make an example of him.”

“A less lenient leader would have made an example out of you for throwing his mistake in his face,” Zhu replied, deliberately speaking in a toneless fashion. So far, Sarin was the only minion that had given him any serious pushback. He wanted to see how she’d react if she thought he had taken offense.

“I take no pleasure in doing so. But what choice do I have? You continue to burn yourself on the same stove. If you had given us permission to wipe out the luddites after their failed assassination attempt, we wouldn’t be having this conversation.”

“Look, I realize I was an idiot for thinking we could make friends with them. But I can’t change the past. Besides, I gave you the green light to hunt them a little while back, didn’t I?”

“You did so reluctantly, and only after I pressed you.”

“Well, it’s not like there’s any practical benefit to torturing the guy.”

“There is,” Sarin maintained. “It will remind the mercenaries and slaves that you are not to be trifled with.”

Zhu threw his arms out in exasperation. “I turned him into a junkie and we’re going to set him on fire! Isn’t that severe enough?”

“It’s tame compared to the punishments you meted out in the past.”

“Well, I don’t feel like doing that shit anymore!” Zhu snapped. “It’s a waste of time and it's excessive!”

Instead of being intimidated by his outburst, Sarin slithered closer. “What happened to you, Zhulong?”

“Nothing.”

“Please don’t lie to me. Everyone has noticed the shift in your behavior. Some even suspect you’re a doppelgänger masquerading as the real Zhulong.”

“Heh. What if I was? Who would you prefer to work for? Old me or new me?”

Sarin crossed her arms. “Don’t change the subject. When you learned Lunarian I hoped I would get to know you on a deeper level. Instead, the gap between us has only gotten wider. I’ve fought alongside you for years. I am entitled to an honest answer.”

Zhu looked away. His mind scrambled to compose a satisfactory response. “I’m just trying to adapt. Do you remember that meeting I organized the first day we got here? I distinctly remember telling you guys that we would be our own worst enemies.”

“I recall. You immediately deduced that these lands weren’t fertile enough to sustain us.” Sarin bit her tongue to keep herself from saying, ‘And you continue to stubbornly rejected the most obvious solution to that problem,’

“Back then, I should have emphasized the need to moderate ourselves in general. Tannin and the other moons were outrageous places. There was never an end to the fighting or time to think about the distant future. The only way to survive in such a crazy environment was to be even more extreme. We were just a middle-tier power back then. Trying to take the high ground on anything would have ruined us.” Zhu rubbed the back of his head. He felt silly for speaking as if he had actually lived through those experiences. “Things have changed. We’re the big fish now. We can set the trends instead of being forced to follow them. Now that we aren’t bogged down in a perpetual war, we can afford to dial it down. No—scratch that—we need to. No one wants to work with a bunch of genocidal, cannibalistic, slavers. Powerful as we are, I can’t afford to make an enemy out of the world.”

“You keep characterizing us as extremists, but I have spoken to this world’s inhabitants and they are not nearly as tender-hearted as you make them out to be. The zeraphs have practically begged us to exterminate the luddites, and few of them take issue with slavery.”

“How would you know about that second part? Did you hand out an anonymous survey? There’s no way any of them are going to rock the boat when we just scooped them out of the ocean. Not to mention we started treating the slaves better before they joined us. Even if you’re right, they are a bunch of primitive cave people. Surely we can set higher standards for ourselves?”

“We do have higher standards,” Sarin said, unable to hide her offense. “None of them would have survived a week on Tannin.”

“I am not talking about military ability. Obviously, we blow them out of the water in that area. But there is more to life than just fighting. Tell me, Sarin, what do you do in your free time?”

“What is that?” Sarin asked facetiously.

“See? That’s what I am talking about.” He pointed a finger at the conjuror and bobbed it up to punctuate his words with its movements. “What’s the point of being a world superpower if our lives are soul crushingly dull? I’ve been spying on the mercenaries, and let me tell you, they are a bunch of miserable and uncultured barbarians. They’ve got more downtime than they’ve ever had, but they don’t know what to do with it. I haven’t seen a single one pick up a hobby. They don’t sing or dance or play games. All they do is train, eat, sleep, and bitch about how there isn’t any alcohol. The zeraphs are even worse. Face it; Parabellum is a glorified weapons factory. It will never evolve into a proper city if we don’t change our ways.”

Sarin’s eyes bored into Zhu. “And in your view, what is a ‘proper city’?”

“I dunno,” Zhu said before he could stop himself. He pinched himself for his stupidly. “I guess it would be nice if Parabellum became a place that people flocked to willingly.” He suddenly laughed. “Shrike threw this funny idea at me a while back. She suggested I try to be a benevolent leader. You know, the kind that sacrifices his happiness for others and brings prosperity to everyone. Well, everyone except luddites. Even now I can't bring up that absurd idea with a straight face, but there are some elements that sound nice. I think I’d like to be a leader that rules through merit rather than force and fear. All this time, I’ve been forcing others to work for us. Which is kind of a pathetic way to rule when you think about it. A real leader wouldn’t need to strong-arm or brainwash people into following them. But maybe even pursuing that goal is unrealistic. What do you think, Sarin? Should I throw in the towel and go back to being a ruthless slaver?”

Sarin realized his question was rhetorical but answered it anyway. “No. That is a splendid aspiration, and I agree with many of your points. In the past, we constantly dealt with labor shortages. Mass conscription was the only remedy, and it presented few drawbacks. We rarely had to worry about uprisings—not when we burned through our slaves and mercenaries every three months. For the first time in decades, we have too many bodies—most of them malcontents. If our present situation truly is the new normal, we should prioritize quality recruitment over quantity.”

Zhu nodded, glad that she expressed the points that had been bouncing in his head, but had lacked the ability to articulate himself.

His grin faded when she said, “However, your approach is severely flawed.”

“How so?”

The synth reached out and gently stroked the area where his tail had been severed. Zhu looked at her hand, too stunned to say anything. “You don’t scar, but the rest of us do. For years, we’ve conditioned the slaves and mercenaries to fear us. They will never forget that. Raising them up after all this time will only open you up to reprisal. Worse, in your attempts to win over a lost cause, you’ve alienated your loyal followers.”

“Are you suggesting the synths and zealots would turn on me over my little emancipation project?”

“No, they will stand by your side. But some are already beginning to doubt your competence and that is a perilous development. I don't fault you for wanting to improve your reputation, but your legacy is stained with blood. Scraping those stains away will be an arduous process."

"Yeah. I kind of figured. Any suggestions?"

Sarin leaned in until her breath tickled Zhu’s ear. "If your determined to wipe the slate clean, the slaves and mercenaries have to go.”

Zhu backed away. “Wait. What? How does that make sense? Why do you suddenly want to get rid of the mercenaries?”

“I don’t. I believe gradually indoctrinating them would be the ideal solution.” Sarin gave him a long, measured look. “But that approach is antithetical to your new policies. The mercenaries would never consent to indoctrination, and forcefully converting them into zealots is another form of slavery, is it not?”

“Yeah. Hard to argue otherwise.”

“As for why I made that suggestion, the mercenaries pose a serious security risk if intimidation and indoctrination are off the table. Many of them have a rough idea of how gunpowder is made. This is also true of the slaves. If they lose their fear of you, what’s stopping them from leaking the formula and other secrets to our enemies?”

“The language barrier.”

“And what happens when some of them eventually overcome that barrier?”

“Monitor the bilingual ones and make sure they stay on their side.”

“What if bribing them all proves too costly? And how do we address the ones motivated by spite?”

“I dunno,” Zhu admitted. “I guess we could keep them stationed here. They can't run their mouths if there is nobody around to talk to.”

“Confine them to a place they don’t want to be? Wouldn’t that make them slaves?”

Zhu pinched his snout. “God damn it. I ran straight into that one. I get your point, but massacring them still seems extreme, especially when we haven’t made a deal with the Worm King yet. Could we even hold Parabellum without them? And what would the zeraphs and channelers think if we suddenly killed over half the population?”

“Indeed. It will be difficult to cover up your past deeds without demoralizing them, but I could make it work." Sarin promised. “It pains me to admit it, but winning hearts and minds will be difficult as is. By all accounts, the east is hostile towards longs and anything that resembles them. It will be downright impossible to convince them you're an altruistic ruler if your victims are still alive to contradict you. If you desire to see Shrike's vision through, you must have the conviction to carry out this one last atrocity."

“Bury the evidence, huh?” Zhu snorted. “Am I really that irredeemable?” He chuckled before Sarin could answer. “Never mind, that was a stupid question. What would you do if you were in charge?”

“I would focus on building our strength. Let's not forget that we are on the brink of famine. We can develop our soft power later. Once our logistical concerns have been resolved, I would work on slowly reforming our retention practices. Specifically, I would strictly manage the mercenaries and covertly indoctrinate their offspring. With luck, we could convert all your non-synthetic subordinates into zealots within the next decade."

There was a protracted silence.

“If I wanted to be surrounded by toadies, I wouldn’t have made you.” Zhu headed for the door. “I’ll keep what you said in mind. For now, let’s focus on hashing things out with the Worm King.”

*****

Clogg had never known such shame.

Despite how paltry his tribe’s tithes had been, despite how many other luddites he competed with for mother’s Shiagaur’s attention, she had chosen him to be one of her shamans.

And he repaid her generosity with betrayal.

He wanted to blame it all on the dragon and his insidious poison, but it was his weakness that enabled his captors to wring nearly every scrap of information out of him. Even now, his body was crying out for another hit of the dragon’s intoxicating nectar.

He would have clawed his wrist open if suicide wasn’t the height of blasphemy.

Perhaps that was his punishment. No doubt the dragon’s minions had some horrid fate in store for him now that they finished exploiting him. Feigning sleep, Clogg peered through the bars of his prison. He would try to make his escape when someone inevitably entered his cell. It didn’t matter if he’d perish during the attempt as long as he died a free man.

He stiffened when he heard hooves and paws clatter against the floor. A bison-sized creature with a head as long as his torso trotted up to his cage. Clogg had never seen an ammut before, but he heard the tales. It was said that after chunks of a shattered moon struck Manu, murderous, soul-eating beasts emerged from the glowing craters they left behind. The ammuts were some of the most notorious arrivals. For decades, the gluttonous creatures terrorized the two continents, recovering from wounds that would have felled any other sophant. By the time their kind developed reason, they had made an enemy of the world. Desperate and lacking dexterous hands, they naturally gravitated towards Shiagaur, whose blessings helped curb their dreadful appetites.

Clogg wondered what convinced this one to go against the grain.

The ammut looked around warily. It pulled out a piece of paper when it was confident no else was around. Clogg grit his teeth, silently cursing the dragon for reintroducing writing to this region.

To Clogg’s surprise, the ammut started speaking. “I do not understand zostian. I can only read. Do not ask questions.” Kodos’ accent was thick, halting, and just barely comprehensible. “You are not alone. I am also an enemy of the dragon, masquerading as his soldier.”

Clogg bolted upright.

“His slaves plan to turn against him. Soon, they will poison his soldier’s food and revolt. Use your call of the wild incantation to inform your allies of our plan. Tell them to strike the eastern walls next week. We will open the gate for them.”

Clogg squinted at Kodos. The call of the wild incantation was a closely guarded secret, and one the few he thought he had kept from the dragon and his servant. The spell enabled Shiagaur's shamans to discretely communicate with their allies over long distances. Had the dragon known about it the entire time? Was this perhaps all a ruse intended to lure his kinsmen into a trap?

Kodos slid a thin stiletto-styled dagger through the bars of Clogg’s cage. He fished another piece of paper from a pocket in his vest. “Hide those well. The dragon plans to meet the Worm King to negotiate passage to the east. We plan on revolting the day he leaves. It’s our only chance to stop him. I will visit you again soon. You must tell me whether you will aid us by then.” The ammut devoured the papers and trotted off.

Clogg spent several hours thinking his proposal over. It seemed to be too good to be true. At the same time, what did they have to lose? The dragon held every advantage. Only a miracle could save them. Perhaps this was it.

More than that, he wanted to redeem himself. If he died a failure, Shiagaur would never permit his reincarnation. She’d devour his soul and let it churn in her stomach for all of eternity.

He howled to the others.

*****

Few things were more terrifying than a well-fortified position.

Those that sought to climb its walls would be greeted with heavy rocks. Unwelcome guests that knocked upon its doors would be chased away by boiling water or heated sand. A well-made fortress’s only obvious weakness was its gluttony. Even the most stalwart defender needed food and water.

Hence, most of the luddite leaders proposed they try to starve Parabellum out or avoid battle altogether.

Finja knew neither of those plans would work. Luddites lacked the ability to lay a prolonged siege. Although their ability to convert sunlight into energy reduced their metabolic needs, their photosynthetic physiology didn’t make up for a non-existent supply line. Because of Shiagaur’s edicts, her followers lacked the means to carry large quantities of food or water. Not that the dragon would allow them to put him under siege in the first place. His army would simply sally out and crush them if they tried.

Avoiding him was a tempting prospect, but Finja knew that refusing to engage him would just guarantee their demise. The Parabellums were burning through their larders, and she doubted the dragon would just allow his army to starve. She didn’t doubt he was coming for them after that business with Kaaslithe.

“Then what do we do?” Hak snarled when Finja surmised their situations.

“If we cannot fight or run, perhaps we should flee,” a dobuwana matriarch suggested.

“Where? There’s nowhere to go!” Hak replied.

“The path west remains unblocked.”

“It might as well be! Trying to cross the desert is a death sentence!”

“How do you know? Few have ever tried. My daughter has told me that its borders aren’t much colder than here and if we fatten ourselves before the journey, we can go without food for months.”

“We would die of thirst within days,” Finja told the matriarch.

“A slim chance is better than none,” the dobuwana replied.

Finja shook her head. “No. It’s our duty to stop the dragon while he is still weak and young. If we allow him to cross in the east, he’ll bring death and ruin upon the world.”

“Weak? He killed Kaaslithe!” a neanderthal named Bolg exclaimed. “We can do nothing. If we try to fight, we just fill his stomach. The dobuwana is right. Only smart thing to do is run.”

Finja realized how hollow her arguments were, but how could they ever live with themselves if they just allowed an unspeakable evil to take root in their homes? She looked at the other shamans and chieftains, hoping to find someone else that shared her conviction. She only saw defeat.

A new hope kindled in her heart when a howl, inaudible to non-luddites, reached her ears. The other shamans in the assembly also perked up. All was quiet as they let Clogg’s message sink in.

Finja exchanged looks with the other shamans. They nodded resolutely.

Finja howled back.