Chapter 3

7th Day, Middle Wind Month, 1 CE

A small tornado tore its way up Achi’s western wharf. Saraca and Girika silently stared at the phenomena from where they were seated near one of their barges.

“Hey, Girika.”

“Yeah?”

“Can you get tornadoes in a jungle in the middle of the night?”

“Beats me. Ask a damn Druid.”

Screams of panic rose as droves of Beastmen were driven before the whirling twister. Occasionally, a bolt of lightning lanced out and struck the ground behind the fleeing crowd.

Going by the effects of the ‘weather’, it was magic and not the manifestation of some elemental being. Since it was magic, the tornado could breeze by within millimetres of them and not harm a single hair on their coats. And, so, they watched with mild interest as it persecuted the hapless citizens of Achi.

Mitra popped her head out from under the barge’s tarp, rubbing the sleep out of her eyes.

“What’s all the commotion abou–wow, a magical tornado. Are they supposed to have those here?”

The Chaaran leaned over the barge’s railing and they continued to watch the magical twister weave up and down the waterfront. Several weeks had passed since they departed the Draconic Kingdom, which had been dreary at best as they went about their work. The imminent onset of the region’s monsoon season dampened things even more, subduing the activities of Rol’en’gorek’s natives.

Once the entire wharf was emptied of the city’s denizens, the spell dissipated, revealing a metre-long ball of fluff that floated down to settle on the wooden boards. Saraca leaned forward as he tried to make out its features.

“Does anyone know what that is?” Saraca asked.

“No,” Mitra answered, “but it looks cute and delicious.”

“I bet some idiot tried to eat it,” Girika grunted.

The fluffy thing sniffed at the ground, and then it raised its head. A set of three strange eyes looked straight at them.

“Don’t make eye contact,” Girika said in a low voice.

“Too late,” Mitra said lightly.

Saraca’s ears pricked as the tap tap tap of hooves over the wooden wharf steadily came closer. He couldn’t tell how strong it was, but it was clearly capable of sinking their barges with little effort.

『Mitra, do something.』

『Me?』

『You’re the Bard. Diplomacy mode, go!』

The barge rocked slightly as Mitra disembarked. Her three-metre-tall form towered over the approaching being, which only stood about as tall as her heels. The fluffy thing sniffed at the boards of the wharf, and then its snout rose into the air. Saraca hoped that it hadn’t come to eat Xoc’s new Human slaves.

Mitra’s tail curled and uncurled curiously.

“Good evening,” she said. “You look delicious.”

What are you saying?!

“Why, thank you,” the fluff replied. “You do not act as those from this place.”

Hah?

“We’re from another part of the continent,” Mitra replied. “Far to the southeast. I am called Mitra.”

“I am called Vltava. My companions and I come from the northwest.”

The northwest? Does he mean the Argland Confederation, or some other place unmarked by the Merchant map?

“As fellow travellers,” Mitra said, “we would love to speak with you. If you haven’t already settled on your accommodations, you could stay with us.”

“I shall consult with my companions.”

Vltava turned around and cantered off at a leisurely clip. Mitra returned to the barge.

“Happy?”

“Our ships are still intact,” Saraca said, “so I’ll count that as a win. What do you think about that guy?”

“He seemed reasonable enough,” Mitra replied. “I couldn’t tell how strong he was, though.”

“A Nondetection spell? Or was it some Skill or Ability?”

“I have no idea. That’s sort of the point. Also, we don’t even know what the norms for equipment in this region are, so I can’t even begin to guess about his items.”

Nondetection was a Third-tier spell, and a Fourth-tier enchanter was all it took to produce Nondetection items. The thing was that it wasn’t immediately useful in direct combat or in demand by the civilian sector, so Nondetection items were relatively rare. By the same token, only abjuration specialists tended to have the spell at all. The utility of the spell was undeniable, however, so any reasonably developed country could be expected to equip intelligence operatives or high-value assets with them.

“We should prepare something for our guests,” Saraca said.

“Prepare something…” Mitra muttered, “this isn’t a royal barge, you know?”

The Chaaran continued grumbling to herself as she disappeared under the tarp.

Wasn’t she the one who made the invitation? I don’t get it.

It wasn’t as if they needed a royal barge, anyway.

Their departure from the Draconic Kingdom took longer than Saraca had initially expected. Slavery was legal in the Human nation, so it was a simple matter for the Merchant Guild officials to sign themselves into bondage. They wanted to bring their families along as well, which was understandable, but that, in turn, led to a slew of complications.

The level at which the Draconic Kingdom’s civilisation operated meant that anything beyond a handful of Humans required a minimum number of specialists to function. Those specialists didn’t exist in Rol’en’gorek, so the number of slaves grew. They wanted clothing to wear, so they needed all of the professions that went into textile production and tailoring. Tools were essential, so they ended up with the people required for metalworking and woodworking. Alchemists produced reagents for many industries, so they brought a few of those as well.

Since the number of specialists and their families kept growing, Devi suggested that they bring cooks along for efficiency. Karuvaki added carpenters, masons and others required for furniture manufacturing and construction. Mitra hunted down the few remaining scribes and clerks in the city to help with basic education, much to their initial terror.

They kept adding more and more Humans for one reason or another and, in the end, they ended up with over two hundred of them. The local Clanlord was more than happy to take their coin, as it would purchase many times the Humans’ weight in Nug meat. Additional barges were purchased and filled with supplies before they could finally begin their return upriver.

Each Human had the yellow armbands that Clan Torokgha used to mark Humans as property, which they claimed would also be recognised in Rol’en’gorek. Saraca didn’t trust that it was foolproof, however, so they came up with some simple, yet effective, security measures.

The first was a blind. Each barge was fitted with a tarp that covered most of its length. It didn’t stop people from smelling the Humans, but it proved deterrent enough from heedless aggression. Not even canine Beastmen would attack with only scent to direct them.

Next, they purchased timber from the first few towns across the Rol’en’gorek border. The Human carpenters were put to work constructing safety cages which doubled as ribbing for the tarps, creating a comfortable space within each barge. Within that space, the Humans were then tasked with transforming the barges into houseboats. Cabins with bunks were created, as were communal living spaces.

When they moored at a town, the barges were tied together. Saraca’s entourage occupied the vessels directly connected to the wharf and ensured that no one could make it to the Humans. After that…he wasn’t exactly sure what happened.

A strange sort of fever overtook his wives, and that fever took the Humans, as well. They stopped at every town along the river, sucking up raw resources and spitting out manufactured goods. Once Devi determined that the local markets had been amply exploited, they cast off and moved on. The convoy that was originally meant to transport Xoc’s new Human slaves to Ghrkhor’storof’hekheralhr instead became a factory fleet that slowly made its way upriver, mystifying the locals with its secret processes and wondrous goods.

Since Saraca intended to impress the usefulness of Humans upon Xoc, he could hardly argue with the results. It was far better than trying to lecture her for hours on the topic and it helped Xoc build up capital besides.

The Humans also benefited immeasurably from the activity: they had sold themselves to Xoc in the hopes that they would avoid being eaten, and the future had been an unknown void that stretched out before them. Now, they were finding that the skills from their old lives still had value and were working to build a new life in Rol’en’gorek.

Saraca made his way over to the next boat to where Xoc was resting in her bunk. The young Ocelo twisted and turned fitfully in her sleep. He frowned down at her. What sort of warrior slept through a tornado?

“No…no more! …I don’t want to be civilised. Civilisation…scary!”

Then again, she had been studying nonstop since they departed from Rivergarden. Since the slaves who acted as her tutors were active during the day, she ended up adopting their sleeping patterns.

“Xoc,” he gave her a poke. “Xoc! Wake up.”

“Hunh? Wuh…?”

“We might have guests coming.”

“People want to buy stuff again? That’s Devi’s job…”

Saraca grabbed the corner of Xoc’s new Nug wool blanket, which had been crafted by her Human tailors. The barge shuddered when he dumped her onto the deck.

“Ow…”

“Hurry up and make yourself presentable. A Lord isn’t allowed to laze about when they have duties to perform.”

He returned to the previous vessel, where Devi and Mitra were busy preparing the office constructed in the stern of the lead barge. Rugs and cushions were placed along a long table where they usually met with Merchants and Lords to conduct business. A dozen of Saraca’s house guard had assumed their stations along the wharf, and he went over to where Girika was watching the waterfront from the shadows of their vessel.

“Your dreams have come true,” Girika said.

“What do you mean?”

The Inquisitor gestured with his nose.

“Savage princess detected.”

Saraca leaned out to look past Girika. He spotted Vltava coming towards them, but rather than being followed by a flock of other fluffballs, three towering felid Beastmen of an unknown species trailed in his wake. Saraca ducked back into the ship.

“They’re huge! What the hell are they?”

“Who knows,” Girika replied. “I’ll pray for your survival.”

He tried to make some sense of their guests as they came closer. Two of them stood around four metres tall, while the third was about a head shorter. They all sported thick coats of fur that were snow white on their undersides, transitioning to a light grey on their backs. The pattern of black head and neck spots which grew into large rosettes on their bodies and tails was more well-defined than that of the Tenduah due to the contrast.

Their broad, furry paws suggested that they hailed from a cold and snowy home, and their relatively stubby ears served to reinforce the notion. Long, thick, tails three-quarters the length of their bodies undoubtedly offered excellent balance and spoke of a life in precarious terrain. Altogether, they would probably be perfectly at home in the Worldspine, but Vltava mentioned that they had come from the northwest.

Of the three, the ‘savage princess’ that Girika had mentioned was the most striking of all. Her coat had a perfect, shimmering lustre and her turquoise eyes seemed to almost glow with an inner light. The sense of the highest of apex predators exuded from every aspect of her lithe form, yet, on her person were various items that were far from ‘tribal’ or ‘savage’ in their aesthetic.

“I don’t recognise any of that equipment,” Saraca said.

“Me neither,” Girika said. “She has something that’s blocking appraisal abilities, too. I can’t even get a sense of their value. This group might be dangerous – the two others are decently strong, but they may be exposing themselves purposely to throw off threat assessments.”

Which meant that he was getting stuffed in the back. Their appearance and demeanour were far out of line with what they had witnessed in the region thus far, so it was entirely possible that they were agents of greater powers. Saraca and Girika retreated out of sight while Mitra, Devi and Xoc stepped out to greet the mysterious group of travellers.

“Vltava,” Mitra said, “will you be taking us up on our offer of hospitality?”

“We have settled on our accommodations for the evening,” the savage princess spoke in Vltava’s stead, “but we may join you in the future. My name is Winter Moon. This is Pebble and this is Pinecone. I was most curious to discover that someone here had drawn Vltava’s interest.”

Winter Moon’s voice had a soothing, lyrical quality to it, and something more caught his attention. Mitra, too, had already detected it.

『Hey ji, this girl is speaking Prusteni…』

『What dialect?』

『I don’t know, but it’s ancient. The older the form I compare it with, the closer it gets to what they’re using.』

Saraca mulled over the revelation and what it might mean. It was said that the ancient world was far different from the world of the present day. Some claimed that it was more advanced, but if it was, that advancement was alien to what was now considered civilisation. None of the few artefacts of those times made any sense to even the most learned scholars of the Confederacy.

Only the most ancient of Dragon Lords probably had any knowledge of that forgotten era, and none saw fit to share what they knew. The unexpected link that these people had to the ancient past was no guarantee that they knew anything of it, but the possibility of uncovering some of its secrets was a tantalising one.

“You and your companions have our warmest of welcomes,” Mitra pressed her paws together and dipped her head. “My name is Mitra. The svamini here is Devi. Xoc is a resident Lord of Ghrkhor’storof’hekheralhr who is travelling with us for various reasons.”

“Svamini…I’m afraid that didn’t come through properly.”

“It’s an honorific used for a proprietress. In simple terms, it’s much like ‘mistress’, but holds distinct connotations from other uses of the term.”

“I see, so something like the female owner of an inn, workshop, or Merchant company…”

“Yes, exactly that,” Mitra nodded. “It’s nice to speak with someone who can pick up on linguistic nuances quickly.”

“Well, I am a Bard, after all.”

Mitra stepped forward, scooping up Winter Moon’s paws between hers. Winter Moon reacted in alarm at the sudden movement, but Mitra bubbled over her.

“Really? Me too! You must stay with us – I’m sure we have plenty to share with one another!”

“That’s a tempting offer,” Winter Moon said, “but we’re currently on our way to the large city in the east.”

“That’s Ghrkhor’storof’hekheralhr,” Mitra said. “We’re heading that way as well, so this is perfect. We must have been fated to meet one another~”

“Well, if it’s like that, I suppose we could travel together…”

“Yay!”

As Winter Moon was doing all of the talking, it appeared that she was the actual leader of Vltava’s party…or they were just letting their Bard do the talking as he was. The four of them returned to their inn, promising to join them in the morning. Mitra returned to the ship, happily humming to herself.

“How big is this circus going to get?” Girika muttered.

“How many ships are there on the Rol’en’gorek?” Saraca replied.

“Stop grumbling, you two,” Mitra said. “This is a rare opportunity!”

“You don’t even know whether they’re safe,” Girika said.

“They’re quite dangerous,” the Chaaran replied cheerfully, “but, then again, so are we. Just because one is capable of doing something doesn’t mean that one will. Only barbarians resort to raw power so readily.”

“Something something magic tornado.”

“There wasn’t any damage at all! Honestly, I think that was the right call. The people here are all about power-based relationships. The two that haven’t concealed their power are much stronger than the average Beastman here, so if the locals still make trouble after that, all that’s left is to put one’s paw down. Or hoof, in this case.”

Saraca sighed and took a seat at the office table. Mitra was adamant about having them over, so there wasn’t much point in arguing. Additionally, she was right about it being a rare opportunity.

As promised, Winter Moon and her companions came to join them the following morning. Devi had to deal with one last-minute swarm of Merchants trying to get their hands on the Humans’ goods before they were able to proceed on their journey upriver. Winter Moon peered at the Merchants making off with their goods, who looked like thieves clutching their ill-gotten gains in the pouring rain.

“Are common goods truly in such high demand here?” She asked.

“They’re common goods for a reason,” Devi said. “When common goods enter markets where they don’t exist, this tends to be the result.”

“It’s such an expansive and populous confederation,” Winter Moon said. “I’m surprised that they don’t.”

“That is a curious story in itself,” Devi replied, “and an unfortunate set of circumstances. Since you consider them common goods, I assume they’re plentiful where you’re from?”

“I wouldn’t say that they’re plentiful specifically where I’m from, but they are plentiful where there is a demand for them. That’s assuming they use them for what I think they’re used for…”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, one never knows what uses people find for various things until you see them used.”

Saraca snorted. She had a good point. A tool in one hand could find an entirely different use in another. They only assumed that the simple – at least by their standards – items that they were selling were going to be put to their intended use.

“So,” Winter Moon said, “how long have you been travelling in this country?”

“We arrived from the south just before winter,” Mitra replied. “Through the Great Lut.”

“The Great Lut…rumour has it that Blue Dragons rule in the south – is that true?”

“I can’t speak for the entire desert, but the parts we travelled through were under the Storm Dragon Lord and his followers. Do you intend to travel further than Rol’en’gorek?”

“One country at a time is good enough for me,” Winter Moon said. “We can’t be away from home for too long.”

Mitra reached into her pack, producing the trade map and laying it on the table between them.

“Do you come from anywhere on this map?” She asked, “Sorry about the quality: it’s the only paper reference that we have for the region.”

Winter Moon leaned forward to examine the unfurled parchment. She pointed a claw at the centre of the map, at the city that Mitra had identified as ‘E-Rantel’.

“Before last year,” she said, “My home was in a Dwarf city in the mountain range north of this city, but I ended up having to move out due to political upheaval.”

“Oh, I’m sorry to hear that.”

“My entire family was forced out,” Winter Moon said sadly. “After working as a courier for a little while, I resettled in the mountains to the southwest. Honestly, I prefer the new place over the old one, so it might have all been for the best.”

“What are the countries like around there?”

“It depends on what one defines as a country. For the most part, Humans have settled in the plains while Demihumans and Heteromorphs live everywhere else. This is a Human-made map, so it only displays the countries that Humans recognize.”

It seemed consistent with what they had learned so far. Since the dominant Human power in the region was the Slane Theocracy, the Human-centric views that it promoted led to a world divided between them and everyone else. Even the Great Forest of Evasha – where he suspected powerful Elves lurked – wasn’t marked on the map, and neither were the Dwarves that Winter Moon had mentioned.

“If that’s the case,” Saraca said, “what are interracial relations like in this region?”

“I believe the best way to describe the overall picture is ‘territorial’,” Winter Moon replied. “The region’s power dynamics are entirely based on how territory can be exploited by various races. You have the usual competition for hunting ranges and tribal migrations, but there is also the Human factor. From a distance, it appears that the Slane Theocracy has completely turned everything inside their borders into Human habitat, while the Baharuth Empire is in the process of doing so while also aggressively expanding their borders.”

“The Draconic Kingdom doesn’t appear to share the same attitude,” Saraca noted.

“The Draconic Kingdom has a Dragon Lord guiding them,” Winter Moon replied. “It shouldn't be a surprise that they have a more sane approach to their existence.”

Xoc appeared from amidships, carrying a plate of Nug meat in her hands. She yawned widely as she walked over to join them.

“Breakfast is ready,” she said. “What’s going on here?”

Mitra bapped the young Ocelo on the head.

“Make a proper greeting,” she said.

“…good morning.”

“Good morning, Xoc,” Saraca said. “We’re just chatting about Winter Moon’s home. How were your morning lessons?”

“Lessons?” Winter Moon’s tail twitched curiously.

“As Mitra mentioned, Xoc is a local Lord. She had the opportunity to pick up some Human slaves, and they’ve been instructing her on various topics.”

“Is that so? I happen to have a few Humans move into my territory, myself.”

“Really?” Xoc said.

“They arrived a few weeks ago,” Winter Moon said. “I have more territory than I can manage, so I allocated some land for Human-style development. Is that what you planned to do with the ones on these barges?”

“Er…”

“That’s far too advanced for her at the moment,” Karuvaki said. “She’s still grasping the more basic things.”

“Grr…why am I getting treated like a country bumpkin here? I live in the big city, you know!”

Chuckles rose from around the table as Xoc pouted.

“Matters of education aside,” Saraca said, “Rol’en’gorek hasn’t had Human slaves before now. We have to set things up so that the Humans can be provided for and kept secure in Ghrkhor’storof’hekheralhr. They’re practically irreplaceable, so we can’t be too reckless with them.”

“Hmm…I suppose most Humans are extremely fragile. Would they be attacked, though? The people I’ve interacted with here are nothing if not polite.”

“It’s a problem on two fronts,” Saraca told her. “Both the Beastmen and the Humans around here are…impulsive when it comes to their instinctual behaviours. One side responds as prey and the other, as predators. Or competitors. Neither side puts much effort into mitigating that behaviour, and their societies have few measures incorporated to temper nature with reason. Essentially, their growth is lopsided.”

“Ah…well, that’s just how things are around here. Advancement tends to only be viewed in terms of economic, technological or industrial growth. Cultural and spiritual aspects are often seen as worthless or at least unimportant, so society advances in a heedless, out-of-control manner that tends to do more harm than good. The Baharuth Empire is a very good example of this, and it’s an ugly thing to witness.”

Saraca sighed, pulling over a plate of meat that had been placed on the edge of the table. While the Draconic Kingdom exhibited promising development, it appeared that the feral Human hypothesis still had strong support.

“That’s disappointing to hear. But what about the Argland Confederation? I heard that the Platinum Dragon Lord reigns there.”

“I’ve not been there before,” Winter Moon replied. “From what I hear, they mostly keep to themselves. What about you? The way it sounds, you seem to come from a much more reasonable place.”

“You’ll undoubtedly find those who will dispute that,” Saraca’s voice turned wry, “but I like to believe that’s the case. I come from the Raj of Gond. Mitra here is from Asandhiwat.”

“I’m afraid I have no clue where those places are.”

“They’re member states of the Beastman Confederacy.”

“Ah, the place that attacked the Minotaurs with Golems.”

He grimaced.

“That’s hardly the only notable thing about us.”

“There was something about losing a city to some Soul Eaters, too…”

“That problem has already been taken care of,” Saraca said. “Plus it wasn’t part of the Confederacy at the time. It’s been reclaimed and repopulated now.”

“Truly? How did you end up dealing with it?”

“Well, the main problem with Soul Eaters is their area of effect ability. If one is rendered immune to death effects or deploys assets immune to death effects, such as War Golems, they become a rather straightforward opponent.”

All that the Confederacy had to do to safely deal with the problem was gather three groups of Rathi-class individuals and split the three Soul Eaters between them. Having legendary foes suddenly appear was certainly a problem for a single, small country, but not so much for any of the central powers. In the end, however, they were never able to figure out where the Soul Eaters had come from or even why they had appeared.

“I see,” Winter Moon said. “Well, it’s nice to have some up-to-date information. Are you still losing Golems to the Minotaurs?”

“What? No! That only happened once. It’s colloquially known as the ‘Bad Idea’ in the Confederacy.”

“Was it a bad idea?”

“Of course,” Saraca said. “The Golems that we lost were each enough to power a small factory on their own. Instead, some overly-optimistic war hawks thought they could exploit a dip in the Minos League’s military strength. Instead, what we got was a debacle: politically, militarily and economically.”

The use of Golems as war machines had always been a controversial topic. Advocates of War Golem production made two main arguments.

First was that War Golems didn’t die of old age and could thus be employed indefinitely as both a deterrent and on-demand offensive power. Stockpiling War Golems was a sure way to build up strength over time.

Secondly, War Golems partially solved the age-old problem of negative energy generation. A Golem equivalent in power to a Rathi-class warrior was similarly equal to a small army. While destroying living enemies would still leave a negative energy imprint, having a construct do the killing meant that losses on their part would leave none. Since wars between the central powers could involve tens of millions of personnel on each side, this became a substantial benefit.

Opponents of War Golem production pointed out that, while War Golems indeed possessed significant raw strength, they were unwieldy and couldn’t match a skilled warrior of the same strength. As such, it was better to use limited resources to produce Golems for the economic benefit of the nation.

Saraca was of the mind that powerful Golems were better employed for industrial purposes, but voicing his opinion would achieve little. People would point out that, since he was far more powerful than any War Golem, he couldn’t appreciate their use as military assets the same way most others did.

The Ashta Pradhan ultimately mandated that twenty per cent of its member states’ Golem production go towards producing War Golems while the remainder was dedicated to industrial use. This somehow pleased no one, with one side claiming that they would fall behind militarily while the other side claimed they would fall behind economically.

“In that case,” Winter Moon said, “I seem to know nothing about the Beastman Confederacy, aside from the fact that Beastmen live there.”

“Even that part isn’t true anymore,” Saraca said. “Well, not wholly. All manner of species live in the Beastman Confederacy these days.”

“Oh.”

Winter Moon quietly looked down at the table, stroking her long, thick tail in her lap. Saraca wondered what it felt like.

“Then it appears that everything that I know about the Confederacy is inaccurate or out of date,” she said glumly.

Mitra reached out and placed plates of meat in front of Winter Moon and her companions – including Vltava, for some reason.

“Don’t worry about it!” She grinned, “We have plenty of time to chat. Let’s enjoy our time together.”