Stone and Blood: Act 1, Chapter 3
Chapter 3
Much to Florine’s relief, the argument didn’t continue into dinner and things reverted to how they usually were between everyone. As expected, most of their discussion revolved around the upcoming meetings with the Empire’s aristocrats…at least it seemed like it did, at first.
“Do you think imperial sentiment for the Sorcerous Kingdom has improved much?” Florine asked.
“As far as genuine sentiment goes,” Liane said, “it hardly matters. What matters is that enough time has passed without any negative incidents for the Empire’s citizens to become blind to the things they aren’t comfortable with. It’s their speciality, after all.”
She wasn’t sure that it was a ‘speciality’ as it was something that many people would do if they could get away with it. Imperial propaganda always made its citizens look ‘up’. If one took it in a positive light, it meant that they encouraged people to strive for greatness. On the opposite end of things, it meant that they turned a blind eye to the vast majority of people who never achieved the greatness that imperial propaganda dangled before the masses.
“So you finally recognise that it’s a problem?” Clara idly swirled her glass of wine.
“I recognise the practical issues that it causes,” Liane pointed across the table with a breadstick. “And, yes, that includes the fact that they’re probably stunting the development of or even throwing entire fields of Job Classes in the trash. What they did with their civilian nobility is telling enough. It takes centuries to develop a real, working institution and they’ve committed to creating a new one that does an old job with new Job Classes.”
“You think that institutions can create new Job Classes?” Ludmila asked.
“Well, yeah, it only makes sense,” Liane dropped the breadstick into her soup. “Since we’re stuck here in backwardsville, we’ve got a jillion examples of basic societies and we can draw lines of ‘evolution’ for various Job Classes because we’re just a step or two above all the tribes around us. A lot of them have to be a result of social constructs or the advance of civilisation.
“Tribes have ‘mystics’ and ‘shamans’, but those are actually Druids or some variant of them. The second organised religion sets up shop, Priests, Clerics and Paladins start popping up. If organised religion becomes big enough, you get Acolytes and Squires added to their institutional production line. Civilian Nobles show up when secure heartlands appear and things like industrial productivity and domestic statecraft become more important than a martial skillset. If urban centres didn’t exist, there wouldn’t be any Rogues – everyone that would’ve been one would be a Ranger instead.”
It did present all sorts of interesting possibilities. The question was what the threshold for Job Class development in a society was and whether it could be ‘forced’.
As far as the Sorcerous Kingdom was concerned, the ‘Diplomat’ Job Class didn’t exist. Clara was in the process of creating an academy for vocations that the Sorcerous Kingdom’s government would require in the future, so would any commoners without the background for traditional ‘diplomatic’ Job Classes end up with the ‘Diplomat’ Class? What about bureaucrats? Maybe they already existed somewhere else. If so, the Sorcerous Kingdom might be farther behind places in the world that had gone for long periods free of civilisation-ending catastrophes than they thought.
“Anyway,” Liane said, “with what Ludmila mentioned about the empty container thing, we should figure out what to fill them with. Stuff that isn’t lame. Florine’s got a few good ones, but she refuses to use them.”
“She does?” Ludmila said.
“She does,” Liane nodded. “It’s almost like magic. She’s not a diplomat – she’s a diplomancer. Hmm…I think I’ll use that from now on.”
The Gagnier School of Diplomancy…
At least it was better than ‘boobing’. Then again, it might attract magic casters who mistook it for a new school of magic.
“Well, at least it’s related to what I was getting at,” Ludmila said. “In the Draconic Kingdom, I found out that an ability I learned just after meeting Lady Shalltear did more than I assumed that it did. It’s far too easy to get caught in that trap of thinking that one has a reasonable grasp on what they’re doing. If we go by what our Adventurers are capable of with their Job Class Levels, those in civilian vocations are missing a lot. Lady Shalltear and the others always encouraged me to explore what I’m capable of. I thought I was doing just that, but it appears that it wasn’t anywhere near enough.”
“I wonder if I can develop a ‘get-your-stuff-for-free’ Skill,” Liane mused.
“Don’t you dare,” Florine shot her friend a look.
“Says the person who can literally make tribes sign over their territory for nothing.”
“This and that are two different things,” Florine said. “Merchants will exploit a Skill like that to no end. In fact, I’m not sure I would willingly teach some of what I can do to anyone. The Royal Court is right about not thoughtlessly ‘filling containers’.”
“Meh, you’re no fun. Anyway, back to the imperials…we really sharing them?”
The main course of dinner arrived – a plate of steamed fish exported from the Lizardman Alliance village in the Great Forest of Tob. Though it was common enough fare in the riverlands, it was still considered a luxury in E-Rantel. That it was food carnivorous races could consume was also affecting the prices of fish and meat in general.
“Those contacts are worth more than their pure commercial value,” Clara said. “I know that we’re all in a position to be independent of traditional social networks, but it doesn’t mean that we should abandon them. If anything, it’s more important than ever to maintain our relationships with others. We don’t need them for security or economic advantage anymore, but it is crucial that we work together as members of the House of Lords. Domestically, we must be an example to all of the new leaders participating in the Sorcerous Kingdom’s legislative processes. In terms of foreign affairs, we must all be on the same page in terms of national policy.”
“I agree,” Florine poked at her fish with a fork. “We cannot sow the seeds of unhealthy rivalry. In addition to what Clara mentioned, the Sorcerous Kingdom is well on its way to becoming the regional hegemon. If our house is divided, it will set a poor example for our allies.”
“Fine,” Liane grumbled. “But we better get returns on this or I’m gonna be hella mad.”
“Guiding people to those best suited for meeting their needs is good enough,” Clara said. “It would be unreasonable for anyone to expect anything more. If there’s a house that wishes to deal with lumber, none of us can deal with them.”
“Ludmila could…”
“You already know my stance on that,” Ludmila said.
Liane did, but, as with many policies that Ludmila enacted in her demesne, she thought it was foolish. Every Noble had the legal right to manage their fief as they saw fit, however, so long as they observed the laws of the realm. Even the Royal Court or the Sorcerer King himself couldn’t interfere.
“The point is that we lose little by directing them to House Jezne and gain much in return,” Clara said. “I believe Lady Albedo would categorise this as ‘leveraging social capital’.”
‘Social capital’ was one of the few things that the Prime Minister didn’t have a set of quantitative indicators for. Broadly speaking, it was a term that attempted to qualify the value which ‘social’ aspects held in society and how it influenced its workings. All living things had varying degrees of awareness of those aspects – and those aspects would be according to one’s species – but ‘Lords’, including Human Nobles, were especially sensitive to them.
Despite this, it was strange to actually have a term for it. Much like ‘diplomacy’, it was something that was taught and exercised through everything that it involved rather than it being a thing in itself. That made it a vague, intangible concept, but the important part was that its representation as a concept made it an actionable component of policy.
As with most things, it was intrinsically neither good nor bad. The Draconic Kingdom, with Queen Oriculus at its head, could be considered an exemplar of what happened when social capital was engineered with superlative expertise. Re-Estize, on the other hand, was what happened when it was allowed to ‘grow wild’, as it could be used to reinforce detrimental societal constructs just as easily as it could promote beneficial ones.
The last part was what Lady Albedo mainly focused on. As was characteristic of her work as the Prime Minister of the Sorcerous Kingdom, social capital was one tool amongst many that she used to manage the realm and pursue its policies.
“So are you going to modify anything now that you’re being sent to the Abelion Wilderness?” Clara asked.
“Me? Hmm…I won’t know for sure until I take a look around. If it’s anything like the north, it will take a full generation to enact the necessary changes – at least the changes that will enable them to stave off starvation.”
As was proven by her efforts in revitalising the north and northwestern portions of the duchy, one could not simply ‘retool’ a population for different industries as House Wagner might retool a workshop to manufacture different machines.
One of her first jobs for Lady Albedo was working with the relocated population of E-Rantel’s former pauper’s quarter. Unfortunately, she had been wrangled into that effort late.
The population of the pauper’s quarter, which represented more than half the population of the city, was divided into two distinct demographics. The first was made up of spares who came to the city hoping to eke out a living. The second consisted of those born in the city to the spares of previous generations that had managed to survive living in E-Rantel.
In a reversal of fortune, those who struggled to survive in an urban environment – the spares with rural backgrounds – became ‘hot commodities’ that were snapped up by all of the devastated villages trying to repopulate. Those with urban backgrounds became undesirables as they didn’t have the vocational skills to function in farming villages and were thus perceived as a burden.
When she started her work, Florine faced a situation where the ‘undesirables’ had simply been left to rot, consolidated into fifty-odd burned-out villages on the edge of the frontier. They were deemed failures without ever being given a chance and subsisted on the state welfare still in place as part of the post-annexation ‘acclimation measures’.
This, of course, would not do. Any country that dismissed individuals as useless at a glance would be prone to extreme levels of stratification and ultimately doomed to failure as a society. It took Lady Albedo less than thirty minutes to grasp Florine’s position, and, once the Prime Minister was reasonably certain that Florine knew what she was doing, she left the matter in her hands to figure out.
Her first move was to reorganise the repopulated territories. As they were, they were simply collections of haves and have-nots, with the Farmers acting as elites living in exclusive communities. The population of every repopulated village was rebalanced. Confronted by a Noble, the Farmers had no choice but to acquiesce. It was a heavy-handed way of doing things, but they had done something unreasonable in the first place.
Next, Florine instituted what Lady Albedo eventually formalised as the ‘Human Resources Rehabilitation Act’. Essentially, it was reminding people that the guild system was a thing. Practically speaking, it was mandating second apprenticeships for displaced citizens. People went through years of education and training to become Farmers; it was utterly ludicrous to expect an urbanite to instantly become one simply because they were granted some land to cultivate.
Once everything was set up, Florine was reassigned to the Great Forest of Tob. The project with the relocated citizens of E-Rantel was still in progress – it had barely been a year since they started, after all – but Lady Albedo was confident that it would produce results.
The reason for this was due to the Royal Court’s usual way of perceiving people according to their Job Class Levels. Spares who came from rural villages had Job Classes related to agriculture or forestry while the relocated population that was born in the city did not. They were not Farmers, thus they could not farm. Florine’s management of her first task for the Royal Court provided Lady Albedo with a case study of how the Human countries of the region directed Job Class development through its various institutions.
Furthermore, it proved that, even if the common person had no idea that Job Class Levels existed, they certainly understood their ‘mechanical outcomes’. By extension, the workings of Human society were inextricably bound to that understanding.
Demihumans, too, were subject to the same systems as Humans. However, they faced additional challenges.
According to the data provided to her by Lady Albedo, the average level of the Human population in the region was three, with the vast majority being under Level Five. Artisans received their master’s certification from the guilds at Level Three or Four.
Should Demihumans be in the same situation, they were in big trouble. The reason for this was that they came with ‘Racial Class Levels’. An Ogre would always have at least one level in ‘Ogre’, and while that level made them extraordinarily strong by Human standards, it did not directly confer any vocational skills. This meant that, while an Ogre might seem like an ideal candidate for a labour-intensive vocation because they were ‘strong’, it was more often than not untrue.
If a master’s qualification was ‘Level Three’, then an Ogre would have to be at least ‘Level Four’ because they had that single level in ‘Ogre’. Realistically speaking, they would probably have a few levels in ‘Ogre’ by the time they completed their apprenticeships.
The strength that was crucial to their old way of life was instead a weakness in the Sorcerous Kingdom, where that strength paled in comparison to the might of its Undead forces. Florine’s task whenever she was handed an assignment to work with the Demihuman tribes of the Sorcerous Kingdom was not merely to familiarise them with life under their new sovereign, but, more importantly, to figure out how they might be able to grasp the promised prosperity of his rule.
Simply handing Demihumans livestock and telling them to become ranchers didn’t work. It didn’t even work that way with Human Farmers. There were still some things that she could look into, however.
“According to my briefing materials,” Florine said, “the Abelion Wilderness is rather arid. Something about the Southern Border Ranges creating something called a ‘rain shadow’. I think livestock that thrives in the conditions of the Wyvernmark would be a promising prospect, so if you can see about securing a supply…”
“Livestock again?” Liane twisted her lip, “I know it’s your thing, but…”
“Simple is best to start with,” Florine said. “Not everyone is interested in big new things like you are.”
“Yeah, but think of it in terms of that exchange thingy. There’s stuff that’s worth more than meat.”
“What ‘exchange thingy’?” Ludmila asked.
Florine took a bite out of her still-untouched meal. Liane looked across the table at Clara and Ludmila.
“It’s a ‘program’ that started with the Lizardmen at the Great Lake,” Liane said. “The central administration has these ‘point values’ on all sorts of commodities. Actually, they’re the same as those ‘guaranteed liquidation rates’ in the administration’s annual almanacs. Anyone can exchange those points for different sorts of food.”
“…and they can just produce food without limit to satisfy any and all exchanges?”
“I guess? It’s not as if we asked how it worked. We did see what the food looked like, though. The stuff that the Lizardmen bought looked like fish, but the fish had no organs or bones. Pretty weird, but the Lizardmen said it was fine for eating.”
“Maybe it’s conjured food,” Ludmila said, “and the ‘point value’ is equivalent to whatever the scheduled rate for the spell is.”
“Maybe,” Liane shrugged. “But, if it’s truly unlimited, we could do all sorts of things with it.”
“Such as?”
“Well, think of it this way. Meat is expensive because it takes both time and land to produce. You need one acre for one cow. So if you can use that acre to produce something that eventually gets you enough points to exchange for one cow’s worth of this mystery meat, you come out ahead.”
A furrow appeared on Ludmila’s brow. Florine sensed an incoming argument.
“So you grow something more valuable on the land,” Ludmila said, “and you ‘liquidate’ it for points which you in turn exchange for this conjured meat.”
“Naw,” Liane told her, “you’re thinking too small. We’re trying to maximise the amount of ‘points’ that this land can produce. The thing that has the best liquidation rate is gold trade coins. One gold trade coin for one point. So by turning the land into something like a factory, we can churn out the most valuable products possible that will in turn be taken by our merchant companies to produce the most profit possible. Hell, we don’t even need any land – we can do this by turning a profit on trade routes alone. No one needs land for food anymore: we can just have it magicked up.”
Rather than being amazed by the concept, the furrow on Ludmila’s brow only deepened.
“That’s extraordinarily dangerous,” she said.
“Oh, come on!” Liane threw up her hands, “How?!”
“Think of where all that food goes.”
“That’s what the slimefineries are for. We’ve turned sewage into a refinable commodity. It’s just icing on the cake.”
Sewage as icing…
“It’s still dangerous,” Ludmila said. “I still think that the slimefineries are the best option that we have for waste management, but using them still means that we’re dumping our problems on other people.”
“Hah? We’re selling fertiliser. As in, people happily buy it from us. How is that ‘dumping a problem on other people’?”
“Because it results in improved food production,” Ludmila replied. “Which in turn results in population growth.”
“Which in turn creates a dependency on our fertiliser exports,” Liane said. “That’s great. We’re creating a permanent trade partner. It also means a growing market for our other goods, which means we can grow as well. Aren’t you the one that’s adamant about not turning your territory into farmland? The larger our industries get, the fewer farmers we need for food production because we’re no longer dependent on land for food.”
“Yes, but selling fertiliser to others implies that they’re using land for food. As their population grows, they will clear more land for industry. We may save one acre of land here, but we’ll lose ten acres elsewhere.”
“No, we’ll save one acre of land here and they’ll lose ten acres of their own damn land. That’s not our problem.”
“It is our problem. It’s everyone’s problem. And it isn’t the only one. A growing population means higher war potential. We’ll be upsetting the balance of power in whatever region we do business with.”
“That sounds perfectly fine to me,” Liane said. “Why wouldn’t we want our economic partners to gain an advantage over their neighbours? If they do anything we don’t want them to, we can just pressure them into not doing it because they’re dependent on our exports. Hell, the threat of a growing neighbour will only make everyone more amenable to leasing our security forces. Anyone who attacks anyone will get minced by the Undead.”
Ludmila sighed, but she didn’t have an answer to Liane’s response. Liane wasn’t pleased over her ‘win’, however – she only looked unhappy at being unable to dislodge Ludmila from her position.
The discussion moved on to their business with the Empire in earnest, and, with the benefit of their Rings of Sustenance, carried well into the next morning. With her upcoming assignment, Florine could only hope that everything went well. After she saw her friends off at the manor gate, Florine looked in the direction of Ludmila’s city manor.
『Ludmila, may I spend the next week or so with you in Warden’s Vale?』
『You’re more than welcome to visit. Is this to do with your assignment in the Abelion Wilderness?』
『Yes, that’s right. I’d like to see how things are going in the Upper Reaches.』
『Well, Lady Shalltear is transporting me to Warden’s Vale at noon today. I’ll let her know you’re coming.』
『I’ll be there. I should take this chance to check on the baby…』
Florine went back into her manor, heading directly to her solar.
“Tierre, I’ll be going to Warden’s Vale before heading over for my assignment.”
Her lady’s maid visibly brightened.
“Will I be able to come with you, then, my lady?”
She smiled at her attendant’s enthusiasm. Tierre used to follow Florine wherever she went, but, after a close call with a particularly skittish tribe of Demihumans, Florine did her work without her lady’s maid. In addition to her abilities, the equipment granted by Lady Shalltear offered her protection against unexpected aggression, but Tierre had no such thing.
“For Warden’s Vale, yes. I’ll be mostly working so don’t bring anything fancy. We’ll be departing at noon – I’m going to visit the orphanage in the meanwhile.”
Florine left the manor, walking out to the main promenade before heading north. Along the way, she found Ludmila standing near the Adventurer Guild office.
“Business with the Adventurer Guild?” Florine asked.
“No,” Ludmila answered. “I thought I would come and see this ‘baby’ with you.”
“I-Is that so?”
She wasn’t coming to take care of unfinished business, was she? Florine’s stomach started to churn as she imagined Ludmila kicking down the orphan Nar and crushing his head underfoot in front of all the other orphans.
Is it possible? It is. When it comes to duty, Ludmila would even turn on Clara…
They walked together in silence with the cold wind raking through their hair. Could she dissuade her from her course? While the persuasive ability of oratory classes might be mistaken as ‘mind-affecting’, they in reality were not. Undead were just as vulnerable to raw charisma as anyone else.
“Speaking of children,” Florine said, “how is Glasir doing?”
Maybe she could soften Ludmila up by bringing up her own daughter. No, in hindsight, that wouldn’t work. She would brandish her blade at her own flesh and blood if it came down to it.
“I haven’t heard much at all since we left for the Draconic Kingdom,” Ludmila replied. “Nonna only reports ‘interesting findings’ and the Lizardmen instructing her on druidic magic aren’t very keen about writing progress reports. As far as her regular schooling goes, her performance seems satisfactory and she hasn’t killed any of the other children yet.”
Yet?
Was that an expectation? She always had trouble figuring out what was going through Ludmila’s mind, even when she was still a Human. When they were children, one could almost swear that she was the third son of House Zahradnik rather than its sole daughter. It didn’t help that she lost her mother early on.
They turned and entered the western gate of the Demihuman Quarter, turning again almost immediately at the gate of the orphanage. Florine knocked on the door of the small office near the entrance. A woman’s voice came from within.
“Yes?”
“It’s me, Lady Nigredo. Baroness Gagnier. I’ve come to see how the cub is doing.”
The sound of rustling papers was followed by that of a chair being pushed back. A woman roughly halfway between Ludmila and Florine in height appeared, dressed in a long-sleeved black dress. Delicate black gloves covered her hands and an opaque black veil hung from the brim of a tasteful hat.
“Welcome, Lady Gagnier. I–”
Lady Nigredo froze as her head turned to Ludmila.
“Oh. You’re Lady Shalltear’s first vassal here, are you not?”
“Yes, my lady,” Ludmila lowered her head in a curtsey. “It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance.”
“Likewise,” Lady Nigredo replied. “It would be so kind of you to not level any of our facilities during your visit.”
Ludmila blinked as Lady Nigredo left the office and walked by. It seemed that even Lady Albedo’s sister was wary of her.
『Did something happen?』
『Not that I know of. Haven’t you been here before? To see Liam and Saye.』
『I have. Several times. Lady Nigredo was always in the nursery, however, so I have no idea why she would say that.』
Given Lady Shalltear’s reputation amongst the members of the Royal Court, and Ludmila’s position as a Frontier Noble, Florine had a good idea why.
“So,” Lady Nigredo said, “I’ve heard you’ve returned successful from your duties in the Draconic Kingdom.”
“We’ve laid the groundwork for diplomatic and economic ties, yes,” Florine replied. “But our relationship with the Draconic Kingdom is something that must be cultivated over time.”
“How enviable,” Lady Nigredo sighed. “I hope to one day be able to serve His Majesty in some similar capacity. Sebas seemed most pleased upon his return. Are you back to your regular duties, then?”
“No,” Florine shook her head. “Lady Albedo dispatched me to the Abelion Wilderness on another duty.”
“The Abelion Wilderness…ah, you mean the new Area,” a smile crept into Lady Nigredo’s voice. “Albedo is quite excited about it. As her sister, I humbly ask you to do your best there.”
“Is there any particular reason why?”
“Why…? Oh. I suppose you may be aware of it, but, despite being the Guardian Overseer, Albedo had no official Area of her own. The Abelion Special Administrative Area was granted to her personally by Lord Ainz to manage, and she cherishes it dearly.”
“I never knew…”
Was she in over her head? If it was like that, she would have to be especially diligent in her duties. She didn’t want to ruin such a special thing for Lady Albedo, after all.
“It just goes to show you how much trust she has in your capabilities, Lady Gagnier,” Lady Nigredo said. “I know my dear sister can seem…venomous at times, but she is an earnest woman. Earnest and austere. That makes her quite difficult to get along with for many, and she is often misunderstood.”
“You have my word that I’ll do everything within my power to help,” Florine said.
“Thank you, Lady Gagnier. Now–”
“Hiiiieeee!!!!”
The high-pitched squeal of a Quagoa pierced the air. Before Florine could react, Ludmila dashed into the nursery.
“No!” Lady Nigredo cried, “The babies!”
Her distraught tone only added to Florine’s sense of horror. They hurried inside, finding Ludmila standing over a fallen Quagoa. The Nar cub was lying atop it, kneading his claws in its cream-coloured fur. Every time it flexed its claws, the Quagoa twitched.
“Zu Ilu,” Lady Nigredo asked, “are you alright?”
“Zu Ilu is not sure,” the Quagoa twitched again.
“Zu Ilu…” Florine frowned, “Aren’t you one of Zu Chiru’s wives?”
“Yes, Zu Ilu is the wife of the great Zu Chiru.”
The Nar cub continued kneading its claws. Ludmila leaned down and picked it up by the scruff of the neck, and it became very still. Lady Nigredo’s gloved hands rose tentatively, as if she expected some dreadful act to follow.
“Does this happen often?” Ludmila asked.
“Ehm…on occasion?” Lady Nigredo answered, “Babies are little bundles of instinct after all. This is the orphanage’s first Demihuman baby…”
“Why is that?” Florine asked, “Don’t Demihuman tribes war with one another all the time?”
“They do,” Ludmila said, “but orphans are still cared for by the tribe. Unlike Humans, they don’t cast aside children as an economic burden. Extra hands in the wilderness are always precious. As is war potential.”
“Yes, that’s right,” Lady Nigredo said. “We weren’t sure how to care for this Beastman child because of our lack of experience with Demihumans in general. That’s when Hejinmal suggested that we hire a Quagoa caregiver. Their fur provides more than ample protection against any attacks made by this child – ones that would leave the widows we’ve employed with grievous or even fatal injuries.”
Florine went to retrieve the Nar cub, gathering him in her arms. He squirmed slightly and started chuffing up at her.
“When will he be able to mingle with the other children?” Florine asked.
“We plan on keeping them separate for now,” Lady Nigredo answered. “Zu Ilu keeps a constant eye on him, watching how he reacts to the others when he observes them. It should be alright to have them mix eventually, however. Beastmen are not mindless and he should develop to the point where he can interact appropriately with other races.”
Hopefully, that also meant that she could take him home with her when that happened. He was far too dangerous to keep around the manor or lose track of in the city, but, as the one who picked him up, Florine felt that she was responsible for his care.
She spent the next half hour playing with the cub in his nursery room before Ludmila appeared at the door again.
“It’s thirty minutes to noon,” she said. “We should get going.”
Florine reluctantly parted with the cub, joining Ludmila and leaving the orphanage.
“So,” Florine said, “what do you think?”
“I think that this should be an important lesson for you,” Ludmila replied. “Every being has its nature – including Humans. Overcoming that nature is not simply a matter of using one’s Skills and Abilities on them or expressing one’s goodwill. I know that you’ve been working hard to make the Sorcerous Kingdom work, but, from what I can tell, that work primarily revolves around integrating other races into systems designed for Humans. While it’s better than nothing, you should understand that the Sorcerous Kingdom is not a Human nation anymore. The long-term solutions that you come up with must reflect that.”
Florine looked down at the cobblestones as Ludmila spoke. She was right, of course, but it was easier said than done.
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