Valkyrie's Shadow

The Tiger and the Dragon: Act 1, Chapter 6

The Tiger and the Dragon: Act 1, Chapter 6

Chapter 6

27th Day, Lower Water Month, 0 CE

“Uehhh…finally home!”

Liane unwrapped her arms from the Elder Lich in front of her, lifting a leg to dismount from the back of the Skeletal Dragon that had conveyed her over the Katze Plains. She rubbed her butt with a frown: though her equipment gave her damage reduction, that property didn’t seem to save her rear end and various areas nearby from her bony seat.

Still, flying was an exhilarating experience. Not only was it new and exciting, but the broad vistas that it offered also represented a wide world of opportunity. It was far different from riding around in a carriage or wagon where one couldn’t see beyond the next hill or ridge. A grand conquest awaited them and she couldn’t wait to take the next step. That step was very close now, though they still had a mountain of preparations before them.

Nearby, Florine dismounted from another Skeletal Dragon. She immediately tried to pull down her skirts, which were far shorter than she was used to. The next time they flew somewhere, they would need magic clothing that didn’t catch the wind and go everywhere.

“How’s your butt?” Liane asked.

“My butt?” Florine’s hand went to brush off the back of her skirts, “It’s fine?”

“It’s not sore or anything?”

“Not really…”

“Ah~ must be nice,” Liane stretched. “I wish I had a bit more padding like you–wait, what are you doing? Th-the claw? No!!!”

She sent a pleading look to the Elder Liches nearby. They simply looked back. The Sorcerous Kingdom’s security was biased to the extreme.

Sometime later, Liane and Florine walked up the slope leading to Wagner County’s new capital. They hadn’t informed anyone of their impending arrival, which allowed them the opportunity to look around without the host of retainers that usually accompanied Nobles as they went from place to place.

Their incognito state lasted for all of three seconds due to the absurd existence known as Florine Gagnier. A militia patrol, composed of four Human men and two Death Knights, came up to greet her.

“Lady Gagnier,” the patrol Sergeant saluted smartly, “welcome. We apologise for not meeting you with an escort – I don’t think there was any notice at the office about your visit today.”

“We weren’t sure when we would arrive ourselves,” Florine’s smile encompassed everyone, including the Death Knights. “Thank you for your warm welcome, Sergeant.”

Much in the same way that people frowned when Ludmila frowned, the men smiled at Florine’s smile. Liane wasn’t sure if she was imagining things but maybe the Death Knights were smiling too.

“Is there any place you’d like for us to take you, my lady?” The Sergeant asked, “Or arrange for a carriage perhaps?”

“We’re fine, thank you,” Florine answered. “We’re just here to see how things have changed before heading west.”

“Is that so? In that case, have a pleasant stay, my lady.”

The members of the patrol lowered their heads respectfully before continuing on their way. Liane eyed them sourly as they left.

I’m here too, you know? I’m plenty cute, too! Wait, no, I’m the ruler of these lands – grr, are her boobs worth more than my title?

“Wanna get changed first?” Liane asked, “You’re gonna cause accidents in that thing.”

“Yes, let’s…do we have anywhere to change?”

“We’ll just use one of the workshops – I wanted to check those first, anyway.”

They made their way along a service road running behind a row of newly-built workshops. Liane cocked her ear for the sounds of work within, but the stonework of the Dwarves was such that not a peep escaped.

After making their way inside the first workshop along the way, they found an empty staff room to change in. Liane locked the door before plopping her Infinite Haversacks on a bench in front of a row of lockers. She let out a relieved sigh: even with her strength-augmenting equipment, having two of them was still a hefty burden to be moving around with all day.

“All of the barges should be delivered by now, yeah?”

“One thing at a time,” Florine raised her arms as Liane undid the laces of her top. “You always want to see everything right away.”

“Technically, they’re the most important thing we got going…”

The rustle of silken fabrics filled the air as Florine's dress slid off of her shoulders. Liane eyed the tan lines that the garment left behind. Their Endure Elements brooches protected them from the freezing conditions that came with flying around, but it appeared that the enchantment didn’t save them from being baked by the sun.

Liane ran a finger down the smooth skin of Florine’s back. Her friend jumped.

“Wh-what are you doing?”

“Lookit.”

“Eh? My arms too?”

Florine turned around, reaching out to pull aside the fabric hanging on Liane’s shoulder.

“You’re even worse! What do we do…”

Liane didn’t particularly care, but others certainly did. Was that why her own subjects ignored her?

Having pale, unblemished skin was a sign of status and affluence – one that couldn’t easily be faked. Aristocrats and commoners alike associated tanned skin as a sign of common status. Nine out of ten people worked in vocations that required extensive exposure to the elements. Ninety-nine per cent of people had at least moderate exposure. Only Nobles and the elite of high society had complexions like Liane and Florine normally did.

During their childhood, watching people react to Ludmila during the winter functions in E-Rantel was a constant source of amusement. She was always baked brown from running around outside slaughtering Demihumans all summer or whatever she did, so people would always mistake her for a servant who had no right to be where she was. The other Noble girls would watch wide-eyed, waiting for the day that Ludmila would snap and a row of heads impaled on spikes would appear on the city’s battlements. To Florine’s relief – and Liane’s disappointment – it never happened.

Liane frowned at her arm, wondering what they would do.

“Hmm…His Majesty went to Roble for something, didn’t he? Maybe he snagged some trade agreements while he was there.”

“Trade agreements…ah, you mean that, erm…”

“Disintegration Cream.”

“Eraser Cream!” Florine whacked her in the arm, “Does Lady Shalltear have any representatives with our delegation there?”

“Eh…even if she did, we shouldn’t push for it. Everything west of E-Rantel is Lady Albedo’s turf. It’s better to go through Jezne or Völkchenheim…or just through Lady Albedo – she’s a woman too, ya know.”

Despite being a country commonly known for its religious ways, when noblewomen thought about the Holy Kingdom of Roble, the first things that came to mind were the beauty products developed by its reigning sovereign, Calca Besarrez. They had every expectation that the Sorcerer King would succeed in his ventures there, so improved relations between their two countries would inevitably lead to increased trade. Relations with Re-Estize were still at best rocky even a year after the Battle of Katze Plains, so any sort of progress in the west could be considered a good thing.

After helping Florine into a high-quality, yet unassuming dress fashioned in her usual conservative style, Liane went to unlock the door.

“You’re not changing?” Florine asked.

“Newp,” Liane answered, “this is fine. I’ll just use a parasol or something.”

They left the room, heading towards the main area of the workshop. To their surprise, they found that the facility had another guest.

Lord Demiurge?

There was no way his being here was a coincidence. His long, spiked tail waved idly as they walked up to join him.

“There is something remarkably satisfying about the unfailing, unyielding machinery that you’ve developed here,” Lord Demiurge said as he watched the craftsmen at work.

“Your words are too kind, Lord Demiurge,” Liane and Florine lowered themselves into respectful curtseys. “All that we’ve done is taken advantage of principles inherent to the world and put them to work for us.”

“Ah, but that is the beauty in it, is it not?” Lord Demiurge turned to face them with a smile, “Raw power being transformed into precise craftsmanship. Simple machines creating ever more complex ones with unerring accuracy. Many have thought to use the Undead as substitutes for menial labour, but you have established an entirely new paradigm. One might even say that you’ve ignited the flames of a revolution.”

Liane beamed at the Devil’s praise. They had interacted on many occasions and she felt that they were on amicable terms. She also knew him to be a sort of craftsman himself, so his recognition for her work was especially gratifying.

“Hehe, we’re just getting started. Sooner or later…world domination, right?”

“Indeed.”

Through geopolitical manoeuvring, industrial might and economic ties, they would carry out a conquest more lasting and pervasive than any conducted through military might. Stuffy old traditionalists who valued land, illiquid assets and manpower above all else would be swept aside by those who leveraged their resources to tap into the productivity of the Sorcerous Kingdom’s expanding sphere of influence.

It was the dawn of an age that would be pioneered by merchant princes – or merchant princesses, in their case.

“Oh yeah,” Liane said, “before I forget: do you have any agents available for an errand in the Holy Kingdom of Roble, my lord?”

Lord Demiurge held a position that was roughly analogous to a Minister of Foreign Affairs, so it stood to reason that he had people out in Roble with the Sorcerer King.

“I do, but whether they can be of any use…just to be certain, what is it that you wanted?”

In response, Liane presented both of her arms, one held out wrist-up. Lord Demiurge’s glasses caught the workshop’s lighting as he nodded.

“I see. With the work ahead of you, I suppose it is a crucial matter. It just so happens that I have some new staff that should be able to procure what you require.”

“Great! I really appreciate it. We’ll be going headfirst into a huge mess so getting dragged down by little things would be infuriating.”

A ‘huge mess’ was most likely an understatement. While Clara and Florine did their best to be positive about it, even they understood and steeled themselves for the reality of the task that probably lay ahead of them.

After they inspected the workshop, Lord Demiurge joined them for the rest of their ‘tour’. All along the industrial section of the town, storage yards were being filled with components crucial for the transformation of the land transportation network.

“I must say that I’m surprised that such a simple concept hasn’t been implemented before this,” Lord Demiurge said.

“It has, my lord,” Liane replied, “in various ways. Freight wagons are essentially specialised receptacles for different types of cargo mounted onto vehicle frames. Every village usually has a wagon or two: if they need to haul grain, they mount a grain bin. If they have livestock or timber to deliver, they’ll remove the grain bin and replace it with the appropriate, hmm…module?”

“Then why has this only manifested now?”

“They seem obvious in hindsight, but novel concepts are difficult to come across. They’re ideas that sit ‘outside’ of people’s knowledge and even if someone thinks of something, it has to be feasible enough to pursue, which usually requires breakthroughs in magic, technology or thinking. In our case, everything’s come together to make it both possible and necessary. Most notably the Undead – if we had that much power at our disposal before, someone else would’ve done it already. It’s possible that it already exists using Golems instead of Undead.”

The innovation that would revolutionise transportation in the Sorcerous Kingdom and wherever it could be delivered was basically a box. A big box, but a box nonetheless. Boxes were not new, rare or particularly valuable and everyone knew that stuff could be stuck inside them to more conveniently carry around.

What made the new boxes special was that they were large enough to carry a lot. By being so large, they eliminated the most pressing logistical issue facing their ports and warehouses, which was the loading time of cargo.

Normally, a freight wagon could take up to an hour to load and secure, depending on the cargo. That hour was an hour of that wagon occupying loading space. Most towns and cities were designed with this reality in mind, allowing for a throughput of freight expected of the region’s productivity.

E-Rantel was an exception to this, but in a bad way: it was designed as a fortress city first and trade was an afterthought despite it sitting on a trade hub. Walls and military installations took up space that would be used for thoroughfares and warehouse districts in conventional cities. Industries were packed between the inner and middle ring of walls alongside everything else. The only saving grace was that the city was small: though it could cram up to a quarter-million soldiers within its walls in wartime, its permanent population was close to twenty thousand.

After the annexation of the duchy, the demographics of the city changed. A small fraction – perhaps five per cent – were affluent enough to flee or possessed a degree of talent that would guarantee them jobs in other cities. The city’s slums were demolished and roughly seven thousand of its residents were relocated to the devastated areas of the royal demesne in the northwest of the duchy. A few thousand more citizens trickled out after that, either due to migration to rural areas or the remainder of those not wanting to see what would happen next under the rule of the Undead.

This left E-Rantel’s population at roughly ten thousand. While this had some dire economic implications, it also meant that there was opportunity for new growth and development. Unfortunately – logistically speaking – much of that development came with the creation of a new Demihuman Quarter in place of the vacated slums. The influx of Demihuman residents made up for some of the population loss and spares still trickled in from the rural regions, but this remedied none of the issues looming before the city and probably made things worse.

The use of Undead labour and magic to boost agricultural yields resulted in anywhere from double to triple the usual output of goods. In the most extreme case, Warden’s Vale went from exporting next to nothing to having so much that they couldn’t move everything fast enough. The increase in rural productivity and the resulting flow of goods being transported culminated into what Lady Shalltear called ‘traffic jams’ in E-Rantel and the towns in the duchy.

Measures to mitigate this were taken, of course. The military ring of the city, which was the majority of E-Rantel’s land area, had portions levelled and transformed into temporary warehouses and larger loading areas for goods. Undead worked tirelessly to load and unload cargo but that still didn’t address the fact that there were inconvenient things called walls around the city and cargo needed to go through the city’s gates. Those gates were fortress gates, which meant that they were small openings in massive gatehouses that only allowed one-way traffic.

Thus, they were not only limited to loading times but the amount of traffic that could flow through the city gates. The first measure taken was to restrict cargo that was not processed in the city – such as goods being exchanged by merchants who would then take them elsewhere, or inventories of merchant caravans that were not expected to completely sell – to the new warehouses in the military district.

Another measure restricted access to certain types of traffic according to a schedule. Mornings and evenings were allocated to ‘visitor traffic’, which consisted of merchants and travellers from abroad. Towns were positioned precisely at the beginning and end points of a regular day’s journey, so major delays in the morning and evening were unacceptable.

Citizens of the Sorcerous Kingdom who wished to travel around the duchy were encouraged to use its ‘public transportation’, which were wagons drawn by Soul Eaters. For the time being, public transportation was free to encourage its use and people could get from town to town in an hour or so. Freight wagons operated by Soul Eaters did most of their moving at night when no one else was using the roads and gates.

Still, it wasn’t enough. The harvests were especially bad, creating lines of wagons several kilometres long.

The redevelopment of E-Rantel was in its planning stages, but, much like the festival planning committee, they were caught in an endless loop of adding things and perfecting them. Nothing was too good for the Sorcerer King and the capital of the Sorcerous Kingdom had to have the best of everything.

While the members of the Royal Court all agreed on that point, not all of them were rational about the ongoing issues. Once, Lady Shalltear grew so frustrated with traffic problems that she pulled out her weapon and declared that she would just poke holes in the city wall. She was convinced otherwise by Florine, who pointed out that she would be damaging the Sorcerer King’s capital.

‘Done’ was better than ‘perfect’, but there were limits. Rather than trying to argue with or otherwise convince the Royal Court to settle on a plan and carry it out, Liane and Clara decided to just go ahead with their own projections, expanding the roadways in their territories – which included the Royal Highways – and building their towns. Corelyn Harbour was already done and thriving as a secondary trade hub for Merchants from the Theocracy and traders who didn’t want to deal with the delays in the city.

The next step was to introduce the cargo system that their new towns and roads were designed for. New vehicle frames were produced and mounted with freight platforms that were designed to carry the new boxes. This was essentially the ‘secret’ of the new system: cargo was loaded in advance. These pre-loaded cargo boxes were then loaded onto the new wagons and sent on their way. In the time it took to load a wagon under the old system, they could load thirty old wagons’ worth of freight with the new. In every aspect, this new system of freight handling would revolutionise cargo transport and more innovations were already branching out from the core concept.

“I’m curious, Lady Wagner,” Lord Demiurge said. “Do you have a version of these that can be used in places with inferior infrastructure?”

“What are the limitations, my lord?” Liane asked, “We have a half-height version of the five-metre one that won’t wreck the Empire’s roads.”

“No roads at all,” Lord Demiurge replied. “Dirt paths at best.”

“Hmm…we have vehicle frames that can handle that, but they’ll create tracks pretty quick. Once it rains, you’ll be screwed. Does it have to be mounted on a wagon?”

“No. The…clients in question don’t have access to wagons.”

Liane looked around the yard, eyeing the various parts and pieces that went into making the new freight system work.

“Conceptually, it should be pretty simple as long as you have teams of Death Knights or something of similar strength and endurance. Do they have that, my lord?”

“They do,” Lord Demiurge nodded. “How soon can you have that ready by? Of the half-height models that you mentioned.”

“Hmm…a prototype by the end of the week. Testing will take a few days. After that, it depends on the refinements that you’d like.”

“Simple and rugged should be the key points – rugged enough to survive everyday collisions, being dropped or falling over.”

“No enchantments?”

“Enchantments are unnecessary. We’ll just order replacements.”

After a moment’s thought, a smile grew on Liane’s face.

“I see. In three weeks, we can have up to two dozen sets ready to ship, my lord. The product will be pretty simple, so I don’t foresee any major delays.”

“Excellent. Let me know when they’re ready and I’ll send my people to pick them up.”

“Will do,” Liane replied. “Thanks, by the way.”

The trace of a smile crossed the Devil’s lips.

“It is a pleasure to be of service, Lady Wagner.”

Lord Demiurge teleported away after confirming the details. After checking the rest of the workshops, Liane and Florine headed to the town square for lunch. The place was at least twice as busy as she remembered; it even had a few Demihumans mingling with the residents and visiting Merchants.

She silently shook her head at the unprecedented progress on display: when one had everything, everything worked. Within the Sorcerous Kingdom, they had every expectation of succeeding at their ventures. The problem now was achieving success in foreign lands.

“I’m going to check some things at my company offices here,” Florine said. “Will you be alright if I leave you alone?”

“Sure,” Liane replied. “I’ll stick around here.”

Liane crumpled up the wrapper of her crêpe from Death Bread. She tossed the refuse into a nearby garbage bin and then eyed the cylindrical container fashioned from sheet metal.

Progress, huh…

While change did occasionally come in the form of revolutionary innovations, it most often manifested in the ‘little things’.

Sometimes, the well-to-do would coin the term ‘filthy peasant’. This was not because the people themselves were particularly dirty – people tended to dislike being perceived as disgusting, after all – but due to what they did with their refuse.

Generally speaking, waste was a landlord’s problem. How much of a problem it was depended on the location. Out in the rural regions of a territory where the vast majority of people lived, there was plenty of land and thus plenty of options for waste management. Cesspits for nightsoil could be dug and dumping grounds for garbage designated. Rural villages also tended to be built with access to water in the form of wells or streams.

Village Chiefs, who were entrusted with the management of their villages by the local lord, were responsible for making sure things went where they were supposed to go. Ultimately, however, it was the lord’s land and thus the lord had to pay for everything that went into managing things like waste. Some of it could be used as fertiliser. Other things had to be burned. Garbage couldn’t be left around for too long because it would attract vermin, dangerous scavengers and certain races that thrived in filthy conditions.

Urban waste management, however, sucked. This was especially true in small, poor towns that couldn’t afford proper city infrastructure. When a lot of people lived in one place, a lot of crap built up. People dumped all of their crap – which sometimes included literal crap – someplace where it was no longer their problem. Because towns didn’t have the space to create dumping grounds within their premises, this usually meant into the alleys, streets or some other place where people thought they could get away with it.

Nightsoil, food, broken furniture, ruined clothing, scraps of material, ashes and industrial waste, which included manure from horses and other livestock just piled up. Keeping the land clean was a profession in itself and, of course, this was the local lord’s problem. If it built up, the people resented the local lord for it. They also resented the local lord if taxes – which were dependent on seasonal productivity – were insufficient to pay for sanitation. If taxes were raised to pay for sanitation, resentment turned into unrest.

Notable change regarding waste management arrived with the annexation of E-Rantel. Not only did the Undead tirelessly perform menial labour, but Lady Albedo hated filth. All of the Sorcerer King’s servants hated it as it befouled the Sorcerer King’s precious Kingdom. The very first thing that Lady Albedo did was order the Undead servitors to scour the streets clean. They did so with such violence that the citizens thought that E-Rantel was being sacked.

Next came ‘beautification ordinances’. Local leaders were ordered to bring their villages and towns up to a certain level of cleanliness and keep it that way. Plans for proper public sanitation were laid down and harsh penalties were levied against anyone that dared to dirty the Sorcerer King’s realm. At first, the penalty was ‘an eternity of anguish’ but the Sorcerer King had it changed to a fine instead.

The garbage bins found at regular intervals and other measures for dealing with waste were slowly introduced over the months but people still weren’t used to using them. Gradually, however, the Sorcerous Kingdom became an alien place where not a single refuse pile could be seen. The transition to Undead servitors also meant that much less waste from animals.

Twirling her pastel blue parasol, Liane took in the sights of her new town while waiting for Florine to return from an errand. A group of men gathered in the plaza in front of the post office caught her attention and she wandered over.

“Hm? Oh, Countess Wagner, you’re back.”

“Yep! What’s goin’ on? Ogling the Vampire Brides again?”

The man who had replied to her gestured with his chin. Liane followed it up to a spot above the post office.

“Oh, yeah,” Liane murmured, “they’re here now. I haven’t seen ‘em before…”

Liane plopped herself down at the end of the long bench where the men were seated. They turned their gazes up towards the overcast skies, watching and waiting.

“I’m back, Liane…what’s going on?”

The men’s gazes went to Florine. A few of them shifted uncomfortably.

“We’re, uh…bird watching,” Liane said.

“Bird watching?” Florine turned her head up to look around at the sky, “What kind of birds?”

“Tits.”

Without a single exception, the men at the bench scattered and fled. A few moments later, the flutter of wings sounded from overhead.

A Harpy flew in from the north and alighted on the lip of the postal office’s aviary. She settled herself and stretched languidly before reaching into her pack and putting on the shirt of her uniform. Florine turned and levelled a look at Liane.

“What? I wasn’t wron–wait–owowowowow!”

Ten minutes later, they were in a carriage headed west along the highway. Florine sat in the opposite corner of the cabin, frowning out the window.

“You’re being racist,” Liane muttered. “You can’t just force other races to conform to our customs…well, you can, but it would be against our policies.”

“I’m not being racist,” Florine shot back. “Your subjects are lewd! This is your fault.”

“How is it my fault? If a pair of boobs comes flying through the air, people will look.”

Florine pouted, her sigh misting the window. Outside, scenes of tenants sowing the fields whizzed by. With her promotion to count came more land, but since House Wagner was easing itself out of the market for draft animals and expanding its machining and vehicle industries, its allocation had changed.

Copses – or at least future copses – were being cultivated on a fifth of her land, replacing fields of grain. Their primary purpose was to produce charcoal for her growing industries. They also provided wooden components such as panels and furnishing frames for vehicles. Since the duchy already had a robust timber industry, the copses were more of a backup just in case they experienced supply hiccups. Liane suspected that it was an unnecessary measure, but Ludmila also insisted that she should have at least that much woodland anyway.

Another fifth of her land was leased – well, more like lent – out to Florine so she could expand her ranching and poultry operations. Fodder was becoming increasingly cheap in the Sorcerous Kingdom, but land was just as limited as before. There was also the matter of the growing populations of carnivorous Demihumans in E-Rantel and the Mistress of Fertile Pastures fretted over whether everyone could be kept well-fed.

The remaining sixty per cent of her rural territory was being used for experimental crops. A third was cotton, another third was rapeseed and the final third was a joint venture between Florine and herself that raised sheep. The cotton would feed Liane’s ongoing foray into the textile industry. Cottonseed could also be processed for oil. Rapeseed was primarily for oil and the rest of the plant would be used for fodder. The sheep produced wool, which went to Liane, and meat, which went to Florine.

Between their two original territories, they had plenty of spares to help fill out their half-vacated new lands. Still, they were major changes and the county wouldn’t see optimal levels of utilisation for another generation or so.

Liane propped her feet up on the seat across from her with a stretch and a yawn. With the Soul Eater conveying them at daytime speed limits, it would take a bit over an hour to arrive at their destination. Transit between locales was one of the few opportunities to relax while they were performing their duties.

“Lord Demiurge is a nice man,” Florine murmured.

“Look,” Liane frowned at Florine’s statement, “I know we didn’t have much luck in the Empire, but I don’t think it’ll work between you two. Lord Demiurge is a great guy, but he’s also a Devil and all that.”

She snatched her leg back as Florine rapped a knuckle against her shin.

“That’s not what I meant!” Florine said, “What he asked just now…he did it to help us, didn’t he?”

“I can’t see why it has to be just for one reason,” Liane rubbed her leg. “It will help us out a lot, though. The more I think about where we’re going, the more problems I imagine.”

“It’s not like you to worry so much.”

“That’s because our world isn’t falling apart – theirs is. If things weren’t going so well for us, you know how I’d be.”

By the measures of most, Florine would be considered a very ‘good’ person. Liane, however, was not. Personally, she thought that they balanced each other out quite well but most people only judged others based on the results and rarely if ever on the process from which those results were derived. This meant that, to most people in the Sorcerous Kingdom, Liane was considered a good person like Florine.

Those who knew her or at least had some inkling as to what she was really like either pretended that she wasn’t or didn’t care because one did not need to be ‘good’ to get by in life anyway. Only a few embraced and accepted her for what she was. Those who could become friends were even rarer still and they were the most precious things in the world to Liane Wagner.

Florine was a childhood friend who knew her through and through. Due to this, they had a dynamic that combined their views to accomplish all the things that they did together in ‘balanced’ ways. Liane was scared of Clara at first – the prodigy of House Corelyn was such a goodly person that Liane thought that Clara might exorcise her like some sort of Demon. Ludmila simply just was: a nigh-immovable mountain who was disconcertingly neutral on matters of good and evil. What she mostly cared about was order, which made them pretty compatible.

Where they were going, every one of their perspectives would be needed to fully accomplish their task.

Pastoral scenery rolled by in silence as Liane mulled over the times to come. When they crossed the line of Gagnier Barony, Liane glanced over at her friend.

“We stopping at your place?”

“I thought you wanted to go straight to Corelyn Harbour.”

“Stopping for a bit won’t kill me.”

“Let’s just keep going,” Florine said. “It isn’t as if stopping there will do anything.”

She supposed that was true. Unlike Liane’s lands, Florine’s weren’t prone to radical change. The advent of the Sorcerous Kingdom simply allowed her to do more.

Their carriage slowed and shifted as it turned south towards Corelyn Harbour. The top of the town’s limestone walls gleamed white in the midday sun and the vermillion flags of the Sorcerous Kingdom waved from every parapet. Overlooking the town was Corelyn Castle, but their route took them off of the highway before the road rose to cross the Katze River.

In the once-empty space under the western side of the highway was a new set of drydocks. Four of them extended nearly a hundred fifty metres north from the waterfront, lined by all manner of storage lots, shipbuilding equipment and cranes. They were covered by a massive roof supported by steel girders and magical devices flooded the interior with light. Death-series servitors were stationed at regular intervals while the workers – who consisted of Humans, Dwarves, Elder Liches, Vampire Brides and dozens of Undead labourers – performed their tasks around the site.

Resting in each drydock were three barges, each forty metres long and eight metres wide. Unlike the wooden ships that might sail the seas of the region, these were constructed from dwarven steel. Each hull plate, wall and metal component was engraved with simple runes that prevented rust and light wear.

They disembarked from their carriage, walking up to join Clara who was waiting for them at the water’s edge.

“So,” Liane said. “Here we are.”

“Indeed,” Clara replied. “Here we are.”

They looked at one another awkwardly. It seemed a weak statement to make, but Liane couldn’t come up with anything else. Everything was just so big now that words couldn’t convey a fraction of what everything meant.

“Did everything arrive in one piece?” She asked.

“Yes,” Clara said, “Lady Shalltear started bringing them in via Gate a week ago. The shipyard staff has inspected each of them a dozen times and they know them inside-out by now. We were just waiting for you to arrive before we got started.”

Clara led them over to a platform that overlooked the first drydock. Liane leaned over the railing, gazing down at the vessel below. Though she had seen the prototypes that had led up to the first production model of their cargo barges, seeing the ship ready to begin its service nearly overwhelmed her with giddiness.

Much like their new freight containers, the barge was lacking in any sort of novelty or glamorous ornamentation. It was just a larger, metal version of the river barges that one might find elsewhere. Its capabilities and what it enabled them to do, however, were likely unmatched save for in the great nations in the centre of the continent far to the southeast.

Like any barge, it had a cargo hold that took up the majority of the ship. Unlike other barges, the hold had been adapted to house the new freight containers. It was a rectangular opening in the hull thirty-three metres long, six-and-a-half metres wide and three metres deep.

This was enough space for a dozen of their regular five-metre-long freight containers. Each of those freight containers had a capacity of twenty tonnes, so a single fully-loaded barge had the same capacity as sixty of House Wagner’s old, conventional wagons pulled by draft horses.

Ships could always carry a lot. These ships could carry more than a lot. Furthermore, their barges were not reliant on wind or current.

“Are you ready, Liane?”

“Erm, me?” Liane’s lip twitched.

“You were the one that insisted that we wait for you before launching these for testing,” Clara said.

Liane straightened and stepped back from the railing. She exchanged looks with Florine and Clara.

“Let’s do this,” Liane nodded, “I can’t wait to ride around in this thing.”

Clara smirked, then looked down at one of the workers and nodded. Shouts sounded out as the roar of water filled the air. The barge floated off of its mounting blocks as its section of drydock was filled.

“Ooh, it didn’t sink,” Liane said.

“It has already undergone trials in the north,” Clara frowned, “why would it sink?”

“Something I’m not used to, I guess,” Liane replied. “Metal doesn’t usually float.”

The shipyard staff swarmed around the sides of the ship. Several boarded to inspect the hold and crew compartments in the stern. Liane turned and headed down the stairs of the platform, unable to keep the childish grin off of her face.

“C’mon,” she said, “let’s go.”