The Tiger and the Dragon: Act 9, Chapter 11
Chapter 11
2nd Day, Middle Wind Month, 1CE
“I can see why the civilian clans fled, now. I’ve never seen so many Undead in my life.”
“None of us have, il-Enrenatha. Thank you for preparing the appropriate response.”
“One would be a fool to dismiss a warning from nar Ki’ra,” il-Enrenatha replied. “And those fools in the north cost us one of our finest with their empty pride.”
Thurgakhr sighed and stared down at the blanket over her lap. Before reaching the clanhold of nar Torokgha, she had hoped against all hope that Goro had somehow survived. It was impossible to imagine that a warrior so powerful could fall to the Undead.
“We sent our scouts out after destroying the two advances against our vanguard in the west,” il-Enrenatha said. “It’s strange…are you sure that was all?”
She looked back up at the Nar Lord.
“What do you mean?”
“The Undead that we battled were numerous, but Goro should have been able to destroy them all on his own.”
“There’s no way he could have…tell me what you fought.”
“Our strongest opponents were abominations of flesh that towered over even myself. They were respectable foes to be sure, but nothing our warbands couldn’t handle.”
“Those are Blood Meat Hulks,” Thurgakr said, “but they were far from the strongest we encountered in the north.”
What did it mean? Thus far, the Undead had advanced as an inexorable wave that consumed everything in its path. If they had reached the river, their most powerful forces shouldn’t have been far behind. Unless…
“Do you have scouts watching out for flanking manoeuvres?” She asked, “When we fought them in the north, their strongest forces came from behind while we were distracted by the thousands of weaklings in the front.”
“Do Undead use such tactics?” Il-Enrenatha scratched his ear, “Honestly, this is beyond nearly all of us.”
Everyone knew that the Undead were enemies of all life, but they were next to unheard of in a place that was full of life. As far as she knew, the jungles of Rol’en’gorek hadn’t seen so much as a Skeleton for generations. Even if she knew what they were all called, it would mean nothing to her fellow Beastmen. The only reason why Thurgakr knew anything about them was because Goro had briefed the Ki’ra warband working for urmah Kisher upon discovering the Katze Plains.
“The ones you have to watch out for look a bit like Humans,” Thurgakr said. “Their equipment makes them stand out. Fighting them was futile – all anyone could do when they spotted one was run.”
“How many were there? How strong?”
Thurgakr shook her head. The flight back across the Draconic Kingdom was completely chaotic. There was no semblance of reconnaissance or holding actions conducted by the fleeing civilian tribes and she only saw bits and pieces of the advancing horde.
“All I can say is that I saw at least a dozen of the warrior types in one place near the start of everything. On top of that, there are Elder Liches. They fly around like Human mages, attacking those below with spells like Fireball. As for how strong they are…I’m fairly certain that they are each at least as strong as Goro was in his prime.”
“I’ll have our hunters keep an eye out for them,” il-Enrenatha said. “They may simply be spread out and we haven’t seen them yet. This front that’s developed is well over a hundred kilometres across: trying to find a dozen specific Undead is next to impossible without them drawing attention to themselves. Oh, on that note, we’ve identified some weaknesses in the Undead forces.”
“What sort of weaknesses?”
The Clanlord settled down beside Thurgakr’s litter. She shifted to face him properly. Hopefully, the ‘weaknesses’ weren’t the same ones that urmah Kisher thought they could exploit in the north.
“They mostly revolve around tactical awareness,” he said. “We’ve been testing them with skirmishes all along the front and they’re…I suppose slow is the best way to put it.”
“The Undead don’t move very quickly,” Thurgakr told him, “but they don’t need to rest. The distance that they can cover in a day is more than what’s possible for the average Nar or Urmah.”
The urmah Kisher refugees fleeing the Undead had realised that too late. Even civilian felid Beastmen could sprint at eighty kilometres per hour, so seeing the Undead shuffle along at little more than two kilometres per hour had lent a false sense of security. The problem was that they couldn’t sprint for long, and the long-distance endurance of Nar and Urmah was poor relative to even Humans.
Urmah Kisher’s remnants had been overrun at a painfully slow pace over the course of a few days, and they were only the first of many to fall. It was then that Thurgakr began to truly understand the evil of the Undead. They were death made manifest; the creeping doom that eventually came to all living things. The refugees struggled for every minute of life as one might fight to keep death at bay, but that only seemed to make things worse. Bravery slowly turned into desperation; hope into despair. And, in the end, death still had its due.
“…Thurgakr?”
Thurgakr blinked and shook her head.
“I-I’m sorry, what were you saying?”
“If you’re still tired…”
“No, it’s fine, I’m listening now.”
After delivering her warning to nar Torokgha, she rested for several days. Physically, she was fine, but…
“I said that their physical agility is only one element of them being ‘slow’,” il-Enrenatha told her. “The other elements concern their tactical response times and battlefield awareness. We’re starting to conduct small skirmishes based on our initial findings and the results look promising. A warband can destroy a group of Undead and withdraw before reinforcements arrive. Packs of hunters can strike and fade with next to no risk.”
“I think we saw something similar in urmah Kisher’s battle,” Thurgakr replied. “They used that tactic to draw us in. Once we were deep enough, that was when they hit us with those stronger forces I described.”
“Many of our Lords already pointed out that risk,” il-Enrenatha said. “Worry not: the warrior clans won’t commit the same errors as the migrants in the west.”
“Errors are not what you should be worrying about, il-Enrenatha. The Undead are far more capable than they appear…no, that’s not it. Everything they do is purposeful. What you perceive as weakness might be exploitable to a degree, but the Undead are simply too different from us to judge by our standards. To frame them as us is foolish.”
Il-Enrenatha stroked his bearded jowls as he listened to her, then stayed silent for a time. At the end of that silence, he sighed.
“Kal’il-Endratha would have probably understood your meaning better,” the Clanlord said. “He saw an entirely different world from the rest of us.”
“What about Sage Khhschlr? Maybe we could speak with her…”
“It’s just not the same without Kal’il-Endratha. Sage Khhschlr is the greatest affected by his loss. She’s been holding everything together since then, but a Sage is no Warmaster. It’s up to us warriors to answer this threat.”
Except none of us is a Warmaster…
The fact of the matter was that no one could match Kal’il-Endratha. Not in scope, depth, or sheer strategic and tactical skill. No one saw the things that he did, nor could they think like him. Their Warmaster could not be imitated or made up for. He was the shining hope of the west; the leader who would bring Rol’en’gorek out of the darkness…and the Humans had brazenly snuffed out that hope to the detriment of all.
“Elder Liches are usually the first sign of a powerful assault,” Thurgakr said. “They fly above the range of hunters’ slings when moving from place to place. At night, that’s beyond the range of our Darkvision. Large concentrations of people are hit by Fireballs. There are always Wraiths that accompany them and they’ll attack people that are on their own or in small groups.”
“And these ‘Wraiths’, do they fly, as well?”
“They do.”
“So you’re saying that they could fly anywhere and attack us, and we won’t know about it until we get attacked.”
“And unless we just happen to have people at the place that they’re attacking,” Thurgakr nodded, “we won’t be able to fight them. They’ll be long gone before you hear about it.”
Even being aware of their tactics, she couldn’t think of anything to do about them. With sufficient altitude, they were effectively undetectable at night. Their victims wouldn’t know they were being targeted right up until the moment that spells started flying.
“If defence isn’t feasible,” il-Enrenatha said, “then we need to ensure that their assets are tied up. Have any counteroffensives been attempted?”
“None that I know of,” Thurgakr replied. “When the Undead attack, all people can think of is getting away. Anyone that stands their ground is overwhelmed.”
“Have you fought any of these ‘Elder Liches’ or ‘Wraiths’ personally?”
“The Elder Liches always stay out of reach, but I’ve been able to defeat Wraiths. They’re…they appear as spirits in the form of Beastmen, but, unlike Elemental spirits, they can’t be touched by normal attacks. I used Martial Arts that imbued my attacks with magical properties to hurt them.”
“Doesn’t that mean the civilians are completely powerless against Wraiths?”
“Mundane tooth and claw are harmless to them, yes.”
Il-Enrenatha blew out a sigh, rubbing the back of his neck.
“We’re going to have to go through our warriors and see who can and can’t hurt them,” he muttered. “How many Wraiths do the Undead forces have?”
“I don’t know,” Thurgakr replied. “I only know that they’re always around when the Elder Liches attack. Also, when they land strikes, it weakens the victim indefinitely. I had to run half the distance from the north under such an effect. Mystics can use Lesser Restoration to cure it.”
The mystics of the fleeing clans didn’t have the mana to cure her, as all of their mana went into summoning food to stave off starvation. Not that it prevented most of them from being taken by the Undead. It was only after she delivered her warning to nar Torokgha that she found someone to remove the effect of the Wraith’s vitality drain.
“How often do they do it?” Il-Enrenatha asked.
“It happens any time they touch you with their attacks. As a Fire Elemental always burns their target if they hit them, a Wraith always drains them. They aren’t the only Undead that do it. There are wretched-looking things called Wights that weaken their targets if they successfully damage them. Ghouls and Ghasts have a putrid stench that can sicken anyone that breathes it in, and they both also deliver disease with their bites. Those who die of the disease become Ghouls and Ghasts themselves. People who die to Wights also turn into Wights.”
Il-Enrenatha’s disgusted snarl grew with every word. His striped tail lashed over the floor and his facial features twitched.
“This…I’ve never heard of anything like this. Our warbands don’t have enough mystics to cure a constant stream of disease, decay and draining attacks!”
“That is the opponent that we face,” Thurgakr replied grimly. “They are death, given form, and the death that they cause leads to more death. We know that the Undead are enemies of all life, but one truly doesn’t understand until one experiences what they’re like directly. Everything about them is everything that the living consider unclean, sickened, corrupted and decayed.”
“We’re going to have to revise our tactics for this,” il-Enrenatha said. “Minimise contact if possible. Rely on hunters to chip away at their numbers. Save mana for disease and drains. It’s going to be a difficult offensive if we can’t employ our greatest strengths.”
“I can’t think of any better solution. I’ve heard that the Urmah who dwell in the arid south have more experience with the Undead, so you may want to see if they have any answers.”
Urmah Kisher had limited knowledge about the Undead, but that was more than the tribes of the other races. This also suggested that the warrior clans in the south would have more. It was possible that they had a more elegant solution to the problem.
“I’ll go and do that,” il-Enrenatha said. “Please take more time to rest – I can’t even begin to imagine what you’ve been through. When you feel well enough again, come over to the clanhold: your experience will be invaluable. Oh, and let the warrior on duty know if you’re hungry.”
“I will,” Thurgakr replied.
Il-Enrenatha rose to his feet again and nodded once before leaving her room. After the door quietly clicked shut, Thurgakr let out an even quieter sigh.
Would she ever feel ‘well enough’ again? Even after finding safety in nar Torokgha’s city, her long nightmare continued to haunt her.
In the central hall of the Human clanhold conquered by nar Torokgha, il-Enrenatha approached Sage Khhschlr to deliver his findings about the Undead. The Sage’s tail waved back and forth idly as she flipped through the pages of a Human book.
“So,” Khhschlr didn’t look up from the book, “how did your meeting with our guest go?”
“There’s something wrong with her,” il-Enrenatha replied.
“Oh my, is she sick? I don’t think there’s anything wrong with our food…”
“That’s not what I meant. She’s…she’s not all there. It’s like a part of her is focused on something else. Whatever it is, it’s sucking all of the energy out of her. The girl is so young, yet she acts like a tired old crone.”
“Then don’t let a tired old crone get to you,” the Sage told him. “Focus on the problem at hand. Did you learn anything useful?”
“We’ll have to put her claims to the test, but, if everything is true, we’re going to need to make some big changes to our warbands.”
“Test away,” Khhschlr told him. “The sooner we deal with this, the sooner we can get back to what we should be doing.”
He shook his head at her callous attitude. Khhschlr was born to a warrior clan and was Kal’il-Endratha’s favourite, but she had no respect for a warrior’s troubles. In that sense, she was less one of them and more a member of the civilian clans.
“Thurgakr mentioned that the Undead we destroyed aren’t the strongest of them,” il-Enrenatha said. “There are reportedly dozens at least as strong as Goro nar Ki’ra.”
“Preposterous,” Khhschlr scoffed. “This isn’t the Jorgulan front with Dragons lurking everywhere. A powerful Undead being isn’t so common as that. I suppose she spoke of Elder Liches?”
“That was one type she mentioned by name. There were others.”
“Elder Liches are not difficult to deal with. You alone could probably kill two or three at once.”
Was that true? She sounded utterly assured of her assessment.
“Even if that were the case,” il-Enrenatha pressed on, “the tactics that Thurgakr described are extremely problematic. We need to make sure we can defeat anything that comes our way.”
“You don’t believe we have more than enough?”
“I do not. If each of their ‘champions’ was as strong as Goro nar Ki’ra, our combined warbands might be able to defeat a dozen in a pitched battle. The clans have deferred to you in matters of administration and economic management, but war is the purview of the warrior clans. We cannot take heedless risks with our forces. This is no mere raid: our territory will be permanently lost to the enemy if we fail.”
The book snapped shut and the Sage raised her gaze to meet his.
“And if Thurgakr told you that ten Ancient Dragons were coming this way, what would you do then?”
“Then we would die. That’s not something one can escape on such short notice.”
Why is she doing this now? Is there some point to it?
It was no time for personal pride or quibbles over authority. They had a war to fight.
“We will do what we can with the information that we have,” il-Enrenatha said. “But I advise that we at least gather our strongest warbands to deal with this threat.”
“That would mean pulling the Lords dealing with the Humans in the south,” Khhschlr said.
“Furthermore, I strongly recommend that we request aid from Rol’en’gorek. As many powerful warriors as we can get. We’ll also need five times as many mystics as we have here.”
“Have you gone insane? Even if we delivered that request, do you believe that they’d accommodate us?”
“It is not a request made lightly. All understand that the Undead are enemies of life itself. If they consume the Draconic Kingdom, Rol’en’gorek will be next. It is better to stand strong together while we can.”
Khhschlr stared up at him for a good, long while, her expression a mix of incredulity and annoyance.
“Let’s not sound such an alarm until we’re sure we know what we’re facing, yes?” She said after some time, “Carry out your tests and we will see what we require based on the results.”
“A warrior does not strike to kill until he means to do so,” il-Enrenatha said. “This is even more true for armies. The ‘results’ that bring about our end will not be revealed until our enemies intend to put an end to us. We already understand that there is some greater will controlling these Undead – they are not the mindless horde that you first dismissed them as.”
Thurgakr’s warning was not the first. Another young runner from nar Ki’ra had come in advance of her with news from the north. The reminder, however, only seemed to sour Khhschlr’s mood. Her ears flattened and she turned away.
We can’t function like this…
Effectively dismissed, il-Enrenatha left the Human clanhold. Two other Clanlords detached themselves from a nearby building and fell into step with him.
“So,” il-Enverre, a Lup Lord, said, “what’s it going to be?”
“We need to grind down the numbers of the Undead. Ranged skirmishing if at all possible. Some of the Undead in that horde have very annoying abilities that are delivered through direct contact. We’re also going to need to increase the ratio of mystics in each warband to deal with all of the debilitating effects.”
“That’s not something we can easily do,” il-Enkimb, the other Clanlord, shook his mane. “We can’t just move mystics around from tribe to tribe.”
“We’ll have to sort out the warriors, too.”
“What!”
“I don’t speak of this lightly,” il-Enrenatha said. “Some of the Undead have supernatural defences like Magical Beasts and Monsters. We’re going to have to make specialised warbands to deal with them, and each member of that warband must be capable of defeating such opponents.”
“Do you have any idea how long that will take?” Il-Enverre whined, his once-wagging tail hanging limp.
“If it needs to be done,” il-Enrenatha said, “it needs to be done. Not doing anything is the same as helping our enemies.”
“Is this Khhschlr’s idea?” Il-Enkimb asked.
“No,” il-Enrenatha flicked his ear in annoyance. “She would have us carry on as we have. But going by Thurgakr nar Ki’ra’s words, we can’t do that.”
“…I was hoping you’d say it was the Sage’s idea so we could just ignore it.”
“That’s not the end of it,” il-Enrenatha said. “We need to send runners to recall the Lords in the south, and we need to ask Rol’en’gorek for help. There are dozens of Undead beings as strong as Goro nar Ki’ra to contend with.”
The two Clanlords stopped in their tracks.
“Dozens?” They said.
“I’ll send the runners myself,” il-Enrenatha told them. “The Sage was also against this, by the way, but this is our war to fight. I’ll be damned if I let her ruin everything.”
“Good evening, Lord Tian.”
“And a good evening to you, Lady Zahradnik,” the Sorcerer King’s Royal Butler replied with a dignified nod. “You’ve come to see Her Majesty, I assume?”
“Yes, if she will see me. I’ve come to deliver the initial reports from the south.”
Lady Delerose, who stood opposite the door to Lord Tian, slipped into the suite behind them. When she didn’t immediately appear again, Ludmila looked up at Lord Tian.
“I hope your duties have not tired you overly much, Lord Tian.”
“On the contrary,” Lord Tian replied, “duties performed in His Majesty’s service can never be considered a tiresome thing.”
“Of course.”
Her mind drifted back to the excursion with the Sorcerer King to the Katze Plains. While Lady Shalltear and the rest of the vassals who had descended with him expressed the same, unwaveringly dutiful attitude as Lord Tian, Ludmila sometimes wondered if that was truly what His Majesty desired. At the least, he considered Lady Shalltear and her cousins as something precious to care for – not servants through which his every desire might be fulfilled. The individuals in question, however, didn’t see things that way.
“Speaking of your duties,” Ludmila said. “I believe it prudent to raise the potential threat presented to the Queen and her entourage by one degree.”
“Oh? What prompted this?”
“There’s a distinct difference in the level of organisation and martial power between the Beastmen we’ve been chasing for the last few weeks and those we face in the east. We’ve given them no indication of the Draconic Kingdom’s connection to the ‘Undead horde’, but that doesn’t stop their stealthier individuals from potentially sneaking past our lines and appearing anywhere in the country.”
“I see. How stealthy do you believe these individuals to be?”
“Realistically, a bit more than I am. I know it’s nothing to you, but the core of Her Majesty’s government is also travelling with her. Losing any number of them would be a devastating loss for the Draconic Kingdom and will cast doubts upon whether a personal servant of His Majesty can ensure the Queen’s safety.”
“Understood. I’ll see what I can do about security arrangements.”
Steps approached the door from deeper within the suite. Ludmila and Lord Tian cut their conversation short. Lady Delerose reappeared and motioned for Ludmila to enter.
“Her Majesty will see you now.”
Lady Delerose led her into the suite’s inner chambers, where Queen Oriculus was submerged up to her shoulders in a bath of steaming water. Lady Soruel was attending to the Queen, who opened her dark eyes and looked over at their approach.
“My most sincere apologies for interrupting your bath, Your Majesty,” Ludmila lowered herself into a deep curtsey.
“It’s fine,” Queen Oriculus replied. “You are not the type to bother Us needlessly…I hope.”
Ludmila rose again with a slight smile on her lips. Queen Oriculus always seemed to have an easy way about her that somehow still commanded the respect of those she interacted with.
“I…dropped in on General Saroukhanyan while looking around the southern provinces.”
The Queen shifted to sit higher in her bath.
“Saroukhanyan is alive?” She leaned against the edge of the bathtub toward Ludmila, “Does that mean Foca Pass still stands? What about Foca Bay?”
“The General abandoned Foca Pass to fight in the mountains,” Ludmila replied. “Going by what we saw of the other fortresses and the General’s results, it was the correct decision. He and his people are still effectively resisting the Beastmen. Foca Bay is still under your citizens’ control and the situation is favourable enough that your citizens are raiding the Beastmen instead of the other way around.”
“That’s wonderful news!” Lady Soruel smiled.
“Umu,” Queen Oriculus nodded. “That is far beyond what We dared hope for, though the southern provinces have always had better luck with the Beastmen than the riverlands.”
“General Saroukhanyan’s successful resistance presents new strategic options,” Ludmila said. “He and I are of the mind that the Oriculon Reach should be prioritised and the Sorcerous Kingdom’s General Staff agrees. With the rainy season on its way, all fighting in the southern provinces will be significantly subdued, if not entirely paralysed. Since we now know that the people there are safely hidden away, we can focus on those in captivity.”
“We can hardly turn down the advice if everyone agrees upon it. You have Our approval.”
“Thank you, Your Majesty. There is one other thing to address…”
Ludmila reached into her Infinite Haversack, withdrawing the collection of Adventurer tags. She stepped up and placed them on a stool beside the bath. Queen Oriculus frowned at the pile of metal before reaching out to take the Adamantite tag. She leaned back in her bath again, dangling it in front of her face.
“Leave Us,” she said quietly. “Zahradnik, attend.”
Lady Soruel and Lady Delerose hesitated for a moment, glancing at Ludmila before leaving the suite. A heartbeat after the door clicked shut, Queen Oriculus threw the tag over her shoulder.
“I hated that man,” she muttered.
Ludmila blinked at the lack of pluralis majestatis. The Queen held a sour look on her face as she sat in silence. Several seconds passed before she rose from her bath with a sigh to retrieve the adamantite tag. She returned to the water and stared at the thing glumly.
“No, I don’t actually hate any one person,” she said. “Not even the Beastmen invading my domain. As the Black Scale Dragon Lord, I cannot. This probably sounds strange for a sovereign, but do you know how annoying it is to rely on people that disgust you?”
“Nobles often find themselves in the same predicament, Your Majesty. I–”
“Dispense with the formalities,” Queen Oriculus told her. “I’ve heard ‘Your Majesty’ and all the other variations about three hundred thousand times in the last few days.”
“One would think they’d get used to it if it happened that often.”
“In most other situations, perhaps, but it pains me to hear it right now. I don’t feel like a majestic anything with all that’s happened recently. Now, where was I…ah, yes…”
She raised the chain in her hand. Reaching for a glass of wine with the other.
“I hate Adventurers, you know? I consider them to be just as bad as Workers, if not worse. The very idea of Adventurers disgusts me. Do you know why?”
Ludmila shook her head. Queen Oriculus took a sip from her glass.
“It’s because Humans rely on one another to survive,” the Queen said. “Human civilisation is built when communities join hands to create something greater than themselves. Adventurers, Workers and others like them, however, turn their backs on that. They are those who are fortunate enough to be born with great power and talent, and have had the luck or resources to cultivate their ‘personal strength’.
“The fact that they owe their very existence and everything that profits them to the efforts of the countless millions that came before somehow doesn’t register in their minds. Never mind the past, they have no thought for the future – they only live in the present for short-lived, selfish ends. It is especially ridiculous in the Draconic Kingdom: one survives because their neighbour just happened to be the one who was eaten, yet there are those who manage to conclude that they simply deserved to survive, just as they deserve to pursue their selfish ends.”
Queen Oriculus placed the tag back onto the pile.
“The Slane Theocracy believed that the Adventurer system would work to their benefit, but they never imagined the harm that it would cause.”
“What do you mean by that?” Ludmila asked.
“You know that the Adventurer Guild was an institution founded by the Theocracy, yes?”
“Yes, it was a stopgap measure for local security established in the wake of the Demon Gods.”
“On the surface, it was, and it was for that reason everyone adopted it in those fearful times. In reality, it was a seed of selfishness planted in every Human nation that rose in the wake of the calamity two centuries ago. The Theocracy believed that, as the preeminent power in the region, they would naturally attract all of the greatest individuals that appeared and would be able to position them as they pleased.”
Water dripped into the steaming bathtub as Queen Oriculus raised a glistening finger.
“‘The Adventurer Guild does not involve itself in the conflicts of humankind’ – I’m sure you’ve heard that before.”
“I’m sure everyone familiar with the Adventurer Guild is familiar with that policy,” Ludmila replied with a nod. “They go out of their way to state it all the time, after all.”
“It’s a policy that both encourages its members to stay detached from local interests,” Queen Oriculus said, “and prevents strong Adventurers from threatening the lives of other strong Adventurers. The system of rank, reward and fame is both a trap and a filter, separating the wheat from the chaff. And it is the Slane Theocracy that harvests the fruit of that process. Unfortunately, it also has the effect of crippling a country’s national power. Perhaps they understood that and did it on purpose anyway, to ensure that the Human nations around them remained dependent on their ‘care’.”
“If the Adventurer Guild didn’t exist,” Ludmila said, “and Workers as a result, you would still have Mercenaries.”
“Of course,” the Queen replied, “but Mercenaries are unwieldy and problematic. They come with baggage. Anyway, I digress. What I mean to say is I would prefer that the fruit cultivated in my domain benefits my domain. I want my people to understand that they are part of a greater legacy rather than believe that they somehow sprung forth independently from nothingness. That to be gifted with rare ability is not considered power to be exploited for personal privilege, but a precious opportunity upon which the very future of their civilisation rests.”
“So you wish for me to encourage a value system that promotes the thinking that that is conducive to the greater good of society.”
“It is to your benefit as well. It is also to the benefit of your country. The greatest challenge of any state is ensuring that its resources are efficiently employed. People are the sort of resource with minds of their own and legs that can carry them off to places unknown. I do not mean it in the cold sense that the Empire does, of course – that’s just the reality of things.”
The tribal systems of humanity evolved in a way that attempted to address that tendency. Those with desirable talent and ability were offered incentives for their service. Traditionally, it meant offering land, rights and privileges – in short, a Noble title. Well-bred daughters were also used as a weapon in that struggle. As time passed and civilisation advanced, however, freedom, prosperity, and what was desirable were no longer solely defined by having those things.
“Your people appear fanatically loyal as it is,” Ludmila noted.
“In a manner of speaking,” Queen Oriculus replied. “They are loyal insofar as what they are dictates what loyalty is. What loyalty means to a landlord or tenant is very different from what it means to a Merchant or Mercenary. I suppose that is difficult to notice from your position.”
“I will keep your wishes in mind, Drau–”
Ludmila’s mouth clamped shut. Her upbringing wouldn’t allow her to address Queen Oriculus by her first name alone. The Queen rolled her eyes with a smile, her voice turning coy.
“Drau, eh? I hadn’t realised you wanted to get that close. By the way: how did you get these tags? Did Saroukhanyan take the Beastmen who had them down with his army?”
“No,” Ludmila replied, “I just happened to land on them earlier today.”
“…really?”
“Really. It was nothing special.”
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