Chapter 12

“We have some new friends, Isorei.”

The camp overseer looked up from its paperwork.

“Your objective was to incorporate the denizens of this territory as new subjects. ‘Friends’ does not indicate subjugation.”

“‘Subjugation’ has various negative connotations,” Ludmila said. “None of which can be detected in the process that led to their admission as citizens of the Sorcerous Kingdom.”

Ludmila reached into her Infinite Haversack, producing a strip of salted venison. As an Undead being, she did not need to eat and did not experience hunger, but the aromas of breakfast still gave her an appetite for food.

Many mindless Undead displayed ‘hunger’, such as Ghouls and Ghasts for flesh and incorporeal Undead for life energy. In her experience, however, the only other type of intelligent Undead that displayed anything like the needs of living things were Vampires. Lady Shalltear’s appetite for Ludmila grew as they spent time together, which occasionally led to her liege sating her ‘hunger’. Vampires had a well-known reputation for feeding on blood and were often associated with the more carnal aspects of Human nature, so Lady Shalltear’s ‘needs’ were easy to understand and ‘natural’ for her race.

Of Revenants, however, Ludmila knew little beyond what His Majesty and Lady Shalltear had shared with her. The only clear compulsion that some appeared to possess was the pursuit of vengeance, which the Sorcerer King had inquired about several times. She felt no such thing, however – it never felt like she was being compelled to do anything. She certainly wasn’t being compelled to nibble on a strip of jerky.

The only thing that she could think that caused this ‘appetite’ was based on what Ilyshn’ish had shared: that her existence was the manifestation of a ‘concept’. Since her Human self appeared to be one of the core elements of that concept, she displayed many Human traits and behaviours. As things were, Ludmila never grew ‘hungry’ from not eating, but the things that should have tempted her appetite as a Human did.

“The results of this process appear to have pleased you.”

Ludmila took the strip of meat out of her mouth, waggling it as she spoke.

“I do not see why I should not be pleased,” she said. “The outcome was beyond optimal.”

“Beyond optimal…” Isorei leaned forward slightly, “Describe this process.”

“It is not a process we can easily replicate,” Ludmila said. “You may as well consider it a product of chance.”

“But if it can be replicated,” Isorei said, “our outcomes will always be ‘beyond optimal’.”

Ludmila smiled at the Elder Lich’s intense interest, taking another bite out of her jerky. She idly gazed out over the camp, wondering where to begin.

“I suppose that I should preface this by describing the results if the preceding events had not occurred,” she said. “Generally speaking, negotiating with a Demihuman tribe involves a ‘formula’ that factors in relative strength, the behaviours of each species, and how one leverages their position. If a Human Noble walks into the camp of even a small Demihuman tribe with a Death Knight in tow, you will not only have their reaction to the presence of a Human, but the universal reaction to the Undead. Things become messy past that point. It would probably result in several dead Demihumans, an injured or dead Human Noble, and the survivors fleeing in every direction while the Death Knight and its Squire Zombies try to kill as many of the aggressors as they can before losing track of the rest.”

“And this was the expectation for your efforts?”

“No, but it is how the basic ‘formula’ would play out with those variables. I changed the variables – namely removing the Death Knight – and went alone. I am not the same as an average Human, and I have the luxury to allow Demihuman perceptions to align with reality. Once reality sunk in, I would be in a position to communicate properly with them. If anyone sought to challenge me in an attempt to deny reality, then forcefully correcting their perceptions would be required. After that would be the slow process of integration into the Sorcerous Kingdom. This was the original expectation for my interactions with the local Demihuman tribes.”

Isorei’s pen scratched over his notepad. Ludmila was tempted to come around and take a look at what was being written, but he finished writing and raised his head again.

“How was the obtained result ‘beyond optimal’?”

“The Demihumans in the eastern third of the Upper Reaches are all under the influence of a single great tribe – the Sun Rock Tribe. I was able to meet with their leaders, who willingly submitted to my rule without a fight. Word will travel slowly, but a third of our ‘subjugation’ work has been effectively accomplished through nothing more than this single meeting.”

“I do not recognize any substantial difference in efficiency compared to subjugating this ‘Sun Rock Tribe’ with direct force.”

“The difference lies in how we have been spared any need for doing such things and what it means for future integration,” Ludmila told him. “The denizens of the Upper Reaches were decimated this summer by the invading Goblin Army. Due to this, food and land are plentiful and their territorial tendencies have been blunted. In other words, they are in a collective frame of mind where recovery from a ‘disaster’ is prioritised over aggression.

“They also know that the ones who destroyed the Goblin Army saved them from destruction in turn. More importantly, they understand the impossible difference in strength between the Royal Army and themselves. If that were not already enough, the Theocracy forces that turned around once they found out they had nothing to do in the Upper Reaches instead diverted to clear out their side of the mountains, creating a tide of refugees that reinforced the notion that enemies still lay to the south.”

“So they have been made to believe that they are in a hopeless situation,” Isorei said, “and the Sorcerous Kingdom is their only recourse.”

Ludmila frowned at Isorei’s summary.

“I would not exactly express what happened in those terms. Saying that they were ‘made to believe’ their situation also suggests that the entire cascade of events since last winter was the result of some grand machination with impossibly precise results.”

“I believe that we can replicate the process,” the Elder Lich’s voice turned thoughtful. “I will submit my report with the recommendation that this method is employed elsewhere.”

“I would recommend against making that recommendation,” Ludmila told Isorei. “The Sorcerous Kingdom should not rely on such duplicitous methods. Our national prestige would suffer incalculable damage if it was discovered that we employed such underhanded schemes against civilian populations without just cause.”

The rest of the morning was spent going over procedures for receiving any Demihuman visitors to the camp, as well as how the local security forces would act around them. She didn’t think that any curious or brave tribespeople would appear for months yet, but the exercise planted the seeds for many other considerations meriting thought before the coming of spring.

Though she had a sense that the Upper Reaches would not resemble any Human territory of the Sorcerous Kingdom, the realisations that had come with the past week clearly defined the differences. Only the lands along the roads and the central fort would match Warden’s Vale in terms of development. The rest would likely remain the savage wildlands nested in overactive Human imaginations.

Even undeveloped, the territory still had natural resources. It was in these resources she put her hopes into when it came to economic integration. All sorts of things could be foraged that had value in the rest of the Sorcerous Kingdom. There were even luxury commodities like perfumes and precious ores. Over the years, the locals would learn how to trade for manufactured goods like tools and fabrics. With trade would flow not just wealth, but ideas and information.

It was possible that the process would take generations, but as long as connections were maintained, the denizens of the Upper Reaches would form a distinct culture that contributed to the greater culture of the Sorcerous Kingdom. Rather than forcing compliance, she felt that this more natural process would result in fewer problems in the long run.

An odd feeling fell over her as her busy schedule unexpectedly unbusied itself. She was prepared to tromp around the eastern basin for the next two months, trying to establish order over the tribes. Bringing the Sun Rock Tribe under her made that unnecessary. Reconnaissance and cartography by the Royal Army were as much for her administration’s benefit as it was a training exercise, so she was loath to change what they were doing. Additionally, her review of the Linum sisters’ patrol and security arrangements found that they were already making the best use of available resources.

I should check on Ilyshn’ish’s place...

Despite her desire to travel, the Frost Dragon constantly worried about her lair. Ludmila made the long ascent to the peak that loomed over the Katze River Valley.

The heights of ‘Mount Verilyn’ had been refashioned by Lord Mare while Ludmila was out in the Katze Plains. Its highest peaks had been linked and reshaped to form a north-facing bowl containing a lake roughly six kilometres long and three kilometres wide. The lake and the bowl were not visible from the surroundings below. Ludmila hadn’t yet seen the Frost Dragon’s home, so she was growing curious about what it looked like.

Though the floor of the river valley was rarely cold enough to freeze, snow and ice were already collecting in the shadows of Mount Verilyn’s heights. According to the Frost Dragon, her home would remain frozen even during the height of summer, so a snow-capped massif complete with glaciers would become a permanent part of the local scenery. When Ludmila asked why that was, Ilyshn’ish only looked at her as if she was some sort of idiot.

Ludmila flew over the lake, peering into its crystal clear waters. The entrance to Ilyshn’ish’s lair was supposed to be in the depths of the lake's southern end, but she couldn't see it from above. She glanced around before unequipping her outfit and dropping into the lake with a light splash.

Gooseflesh formed over her skin in reaction to the icy water. Yet, at the same time, the cold had no true effect on her being. After sinking nearly a hundred metres, she finally spotted a cavern entrance. It took her over fifteen minutes to find her way out of the maze-like tunnels.

Her head broke the surface of another lake inside the peak…or did it count as the same lake? The ceiling stretched high above, and the entire cavern was coated in a thick layer of ice. Five hundred metres away, a frozen island floated in the water.

Is that an ‘iceberg’?

Ludmila swam over. Once she crawled up onto the ice and rose to her feet, she shook herself off as best as she could. It occurred to her that she was running around naked in someone else’s home, save for her belt and the containers hanging upon it. Her smallclothes and boots came on a moment later.

Her gaze wandered everywhere as she made her way around. It was not really comparable to anything; the only thing that came to mind was that it was a Dragon-sized home. While they were supposedly the ‘smallest’ of True Dragons, Frost Dragons were still Dragons. According to Ilyshn’ish, a fully-developed Ancient Frost Dragon would be thirty metres in length. The icy abode before her appeared to be fashioned for that eventuality.

Tunnels were burrowed through the ice, leading to dozens of large chambers. All of them were devoid of any content. After going up and down for a while, she found herself entering a large inner chamber. It was carved out at water level, forming a sort of moat around a central island.

An island in a lake in an island in a lake in a mountain...only accessible from a lake on top of a mountain.

Did all Dragons have such well-hidden lairs? Why was Ilyshn’ish constantly worried about her home when it was so inaccessible? She doubted that anyone would know it was here if not for the conspicuous presence of ice on the mountain. Even if they managed to locate the entrance, most would simply freeze or drown trying to make it in.

She unequipped her smallclothes again and swam over to the core of her companion’s lair. A small pile of platinum coins occupied the exact centre. Several small bookshelves were arranged around it, half-filled with books. A desk with a chair sat between two of the bookshelves, and a couch with a blanket was placed across the pile of coins from it. Ludmila had no idea what a Frost Dragon needed a blanket for.

『Ilyshn’ish, is there anything you wanted me to check on in your lair?』

Several minutes passed without a response.

『Ilyshn’ish?』

Ludmila considered nudging the presence in the corner of her mind, but she wasn’t sure what that would do. It was mid-afternoon, so chances were that she was on the road. All Ludmila could discern, however, was that she was stressed and anxious, which she supposed was no different than before. Maybe she was simply too far for coherent communication. She would have to ask Lady Aura about it at some point.

She made one more round through the Dragon’s lair before swimming back out again. Floating above the water, she dried her hair before descending to the harbour. With the construction crews out in the Upper Reaches, a sleepy sort of feeling had settled over her capital. Ludmila took comfort in the familiar sensation – though much had changed, the sense of slowness that settled over the Vale as winter approached had not.

Death Knights stood at their posts and patrolled the harbour front. Three Soul Eaters patiently waited for work with their wagons. The only sign of activity beyond that was in the harbour master’s office. She walked over and poked her head inside.

“Jeeves?”

“Welcome, Lady Zahradnik!”

The Skeleton Merchant greeted her with a bright voice and an elegant bow. Standing behind his desk surrounded by shelves and filing cabinets, he appeared to be much busier than the sight of the empty harbour suggested.

“Did something happen?”

“No, just going through old records,” he replied. “I received a report from one of the ladies with the Ministry of Transportation about a new fellow coming in to ply the route between Warden’s Vale and Corelyn Harbour. His vessel has some interesting dimensions, and I was trying to figure out how much cargo he could handle.”

“Captain Iškur is an independent trader,” Ludmila told him, “so we cannot treat Ruin’s Wake as we do our own ship. We will have to wait until he loads his purchases before hiring the remainder of his cargo capacity for our shipments.”

“Of course my lady, of course. Still, this will be quite the boon.”

That much was true. The trusty old knarr of Warden’s Vale endlessly went back and forth from Corelyn Harbour, yet Ludmila’s warehouses and cargo lots continued to fill. Hiring another ship was better than leaving goods unsold for seasons on end. The completion of the roads and restoration of the bridge to the interior would also alleviate matters, but, as usual, there was too much work and not enough labour.

“The first few rounds of Ruin’s Wake should be as a chartered cargo vessel,” Ludmila said. “How quickly will we be able to empty the warehouses? Lady Corelyn has a seemingly bottomless appetite for timber and stone, so I doubt there will be any problems receiving the increased volume.”

“As much as could be expected for a vessel of that size, but it’s strange: the projected loading time is a serious impediment. According to the ministry’s information, it should take four or five hours to fully unload and load Ruin’s Wake. It takes about a day for her to go from Warden’s Vale to Corelyn Harbour, so it’s quite the chunk of time.”

It was a problem identified by her friends even before Soul Eaters saw wider implementation in the Sorcerous Kingdom. Cargo took time to load, and a vehicle that wasn’t on the move was simply a highly-inefficient warehouse. This loading time took up a larger percentage of a route’s schedule as transportation became faster.

A freight wagon took an hour to unload, load, and secure. That same wagon could take a Soul Eater less than an hour to deliver its goods from village to town. With infrastructure being improved and Soul Eater-drawn wagons becoming increasingly common, so too were the delays caused by cargo transfers. Unless it was one of the newly-built cargo hubs like Corelyn Harbour, towns and even the city of E-Rantel ended up with long lines of wagons on the roads.

According to Clara, Lady Shalltear had already provided them with a solution, leaving its implementation to Clara, Liane and Florine. Supposedly, it was something that would revolutionise transport, and the design of recently-built harbour and warehouse areas – including those in Warden’s Vale – had something to do with it.

“As long as the expansion of the harbour district can keep up with our exports,” Ludmila said, “we should be fine. This issue may not be with us for much longer. Speaking of keeping up, I believe we need to open another warehouse for alchemical reagents.”

“Yes, that’s right,” Jeeves nodded. “Those trainees of yours are quite industrious.”

“That is a good thing,” Ludmila smirked. “They need to be ready for formal training in the spring.”

The trainees Jeeves was referring to were the children that Ludmila had hand-picked to be raised as the first ‘class’ in the next generation of the territory’s Rangers. Those whose lineages were recorded in the temple records were surprisingly easy to identify. Those without she had to meet with and create new records for. She had gone through many hours of family tales in order to do so, with many of them dubious in the retelling.

Since the children were still schooling in their respective villages, she had assigned to them the tasks that she herself had been instructed in at the same age. Survival skills were part and parcel of being a Ranger, so it was Ludmila’s hope that the children would gain their first Ranger Level by having them go out into the secure parts of the vale to practice every day.

While she had spent more of her time on administrative tasks than Ranger-related ones, Ludmila thought that this would be well within the realm of plausibility. According to Alessia, Acolytes and Squires in the Theocracy started their training between the ages of six and eight.

“Have there been any issues with spoilage or vermin?”

“The new warehouses appear to be keeping well,” Jeeves reported. “Quality of storage is not a problem, just the dwindling amount of remaining space. Once this Captain Iškur starts his route, we should see a slowdown of this, if not a small reversal.”

“You have really taken well to your new post.”

“You flatter me, my lady. In truth, it’s essentially the same work as before. There’s just far more of it, which I am grateful for.”

The other Jeeves would have surely been happy as well. The thought of his loss still angered her, but at the same time, the Jeeves before her wouldn’t have been born if the old Jeeves had not perished.

“Well, let me know if there is anything you would like,” Ludmila said. “I still feel like I should be compensating you for your work in some way.”

As usual, the diminutive Skeleton Merchant scoffed at the notion.

“Perish the thought, my lady! You are my summoner, so simply being of use to you brings me joy!”

Her experiences with both Jeeves had taught her much about the nature of created beings. This, in turn, helped her greatly in understanding His Majesty’s Undead servitors. Still, she sometimes wondered if the Sorcerer King ever had the same thoughts about compensation.

After reviewing the rest of the harbour’s upcoming matters, she hopped onto one of the waiting wagons, if only to give the Soul Eater something to do. Upon entering the town and opening the door to her temporary residence, she found nearly a dozen Elder Liches standing around her makeshift Hall.

“Why are you all down here?” Ludmila asked.

The Elder Liches exchanged glances before one of them came forward. Its words rolled out in grim tones.

“Commander Wiluvien’s affliction has advanced into its terminal stages.”