Valkyrie's Shadow

The Tiger and the Dragon: Act 10, Chapter 10

The Tiger and the Dragon: Act 10, Chapter 10

Chapter 10

“They’re back.”

Saraca looked up from where several Humans were installing a simple crane. The parts to the device were recently manufactured by the artisans working for Xoc, and the first would be used to lift stone blocks out of their slowly-expanding quarry. Nearby, a few Ocelo were being instructed on its operation by one of the Human Masons.

So far, things were going well between Xoc’s new slaves and the clanhold’s residents. A part of it was probably because the Humans were still very much a curiosity. Another contributing factor was Xoc’s slowly-growing influence around her home, which was already a thing before she came under his care and would continue to expand. Mostly, however, Saraca was certain it was because the Humans had been instructed on proper conduct around felid Beastmen on the journey to the capital.

Understanding that all species had a nature unique to them and being aware of how one’s presence and actions influenced others was integral to being a member of a civilised, multiracial society. In the Draconic Kingdom – and, presumably, the rest of the region – Humans mostly lived as a monoracial culture and their behaviours were unsurprisingly ill-suited for civilised lands. That behaviour fed into the neighbouring Beastmen’s behaviour, which was similarly unrefined, resulting in a relationship befitting that of primal tribes despite appearances.

Fortunately, that behaviour could be addressed, and the Humans were especially cooperative considering where they were headed. None of them wished to be pounced upon, chased or otherwise treated as prey. Of course, some picked up what was necessary quicker than others, but those who were still having trouble adapting could do so from the safety of their little artisan enclave on the second terrace.

Girika took one last look down the cliff before returning to Saraca’s side. The first to appear at the top of the ramp was Vltava, whom Saraca wasn’t sure worked as a good model for the Humans to follow. When asked for his take on interspecies relations, he simply said ‘if you do not wish to be prey, then don’t be’. This was actually the correct take, but Saraca was certain that the Humans couldn’t figure things out from just that, never mind emulating Vltava’s attitude. Despite his supremely edible appearance, the diminutive Druid was utterly unflappable. Even Dragons would probably be bullied by him.

The trio of felid Krkonoše followed shortly after. He grew weary inside when Winter Moon came into view, despite her being nothing but pleasing to look upon.

Exceptionally strong individuals were not only candidates for harems in the Beastman Confederacy, but nearly everywhere for species capable of those relations. In a world where stark differences in strength meant that singularly powerful individuals could shatter the balance of power and destroy centuries of development on a whim, prudent tribes, clans and countries sought to breed and cultivate the strength to keep enemies and rogue factors alike in check.

Some groups were blessed with exceptionally powerful bloodlines, producing veritable gods that guaranteed their sovereignty. Others were not so lucky and sought the strong beyond their borders. While the Beastman Confederacy did have thousands of strong pedigrees, they still sought more abroad. It would be negligent not to do so.

Wealth and prestige; rights and authority – those with the means did everything that they could to secure the strong. Even so, not everyone was interested in what was offered and would not cooperate. The response to those individuals within a country was varied, but most simply killed them off as they were an unacceptable risk if left to their own devices. How often this happened depended on a nation’s approach to ensuring that those with strength and talent worked for them in some way. Additionally, some were too strong to deal with, but it was difficult to become that powerful without being noticed along the way.

Those who did cooperate were usually left with want for little, but they also had the good sense to understand that individualistic goals paled in importance to the survival of their civilisation and species.

As for Saraca, he had mostly escaped from any unpleasantness due to the nature of both his professional duties and a fair bit of luck with his current wives. Now, it seemed that his luck had finally run out. Mitra was still investigating Winter Moon’s true strength, but it was already clear that she qualified for his harem.

At some point, he would have to take the initiative, which was odd. Candidates usually flung themselves – often bodily – at him, but Winter Moon showed absolutely no interest. He preferred to respect the members of his harem and the independent lives that they led, so the prospect of courting someone who wasn’t interested in him at all left a bad taste in his mouth.

Winter Moon went by, and he couldn’t contain his curiosity at a strange detail.

“Why are you wearing that?” He asked.

She stopped at his question, following Saraca’s gesture to the yellow band around her wrist.

“Is this not to indicate that one is not to be consumed?”

“That’s right.”

“Well, I do not wish to be consumed. If that is my wish, then I should use this, yes?”

“That’s technically correct…”

Vltava might have been targeted, but it was impossible to imagine that Winter Moon would be. Her sheer size alone would give nearly anyone second thoughts, and the highly-instinctive behaviour of Rol’en’gorek's denizens essentially guaranteed that flight would take precedence over fight so long as they felt that they could avoid a confrontation with her.

Beyond that, she was strong. Through their practising together, Mitra estimated that Winter Moon was ‘halfway to Atirathi’. In other words, she was strong enough to single-handedly wreak havoc upon a weak country that had no external allies, much like an Elder Dragon might. Very few were that strong. In Rol’en’gorek, they encountered no locals who were even half that strength.

“Would you happen to know where Mitra is?” Winter Moon asked, “We were supposed to be doing something this afternoon.”

“She and the others were going around the clanhold’s lower terrace with Xoc,” Saraca replied. “There’s a small procession with them, so they’ll be hard to miss.”

“Thank you.”

Winter Moon and her companions continued on their way. After the last of their long tails disappeared beyond the curve of the worn lane, Girika nudged Saraca with his elbow.

“You sure about that?” He asked.

“Sure about what?”

“She’s a candidate, right? Even if the harem thing doesn’t work out, they’ll still want her strength back home. You’re not even trying.”

“Normally,” Saraca muttered, “I wouldn’t even need to try.”

“I’ll give you that,” Girika conceded, “but don’t you think she’s attractive?”

“That’s hardly the point of a harem,” Saraca said. “And even in a normal situation, going after her is backwards.”

Securing harem candidates abroad was harder than most people believed. First and foremost, males were at a disadvantage as foreigners. Female felid Beastmen tended to have control over matters of breeding. They only went into heat once a year at most, and they weren’t about to tell random strangers when that was. As such, they quietly did all of the sizing up, comparing potential mates that came into their awareness.

Since his main duties involved him never staying in one place for long, it was essentially a matter of luck. A female had to be interested in him – which, admittedly, wasn’t usually an obstacle – but he also had to be around when she was in heat. Even if they were interested in him, they didn’t necessarily want to leave their homes or give up their children. In the world beyond the Confederacy, most weren’t accustomed to highly mobile, cosmopolitan lifestyles where a female could plan well in advance to meet with a male of her choosing.

Saraca furrowed his brow as his thoughts led him to stranger places.

“Actually,” he said, “how does that work here?”

“How does what work?” Girika yawned.

“Breeding.”

“Why is the guy with the harem asking that question?”

“No, I mean…the people here mostly act on instinct and they don’t have any of our magical conveniences. How is this place not constant chaos every time a girl goes into heat and attracts every guy within a two-kilometre radius?”

“Uh…”

Girika’s face slowly shifted into a rare expression of befuddlement.

“See what I mean?” Saraca said.

“Well,” Girika crossed his arms. “I haven’t smelled that happening yet. We’ve been in Rol’en’gorek for months, too. Our girls have stuff for it, but I don’t think they have the same stuff here…”

“You should go investigate. City work is your forte, right?”

“…I don’t get paid enough for this.”

“Paid enough for what?”

Saraca and Girika started, turning to find Kasturi walking up behind them. The rest of Mitra’s party was further behind on the opposite side of the expanding quarry.

“Nothing,” Girika mumbled and looked away.

“It didn’t sound like nothing to me,” Kasturi said.

Damn scouts and their absurd hearing…

“Maybe you already know the answer,” Saraca decided to confront the question head-on. “What happens when females go into heat?”

Kasturi gave him a long, flat look. Then she turned around and vanished from his sight. Saraca’s head swivelled about as he tried to figure out where she went.

“You’re dead,” Girika said. “She’s going straight back to your wives.”

Kasturi reappeared in front of Mitra. After a brief exchange, her entire party looked in his direction. They slowly stalked over, probably on purpose. Mitra hopped over the quarry to land before him.

“It was a purely academic question,” Saraca said.

“Suuuuure it was,” Mitra peered at him. “Girika: make sure he doesn’t do anything he isn’t supposed to.”

“Your servant obeys, Yuvarani.”

“Don’t you work for me?" Saraca narrowed his eyes at the Inquisitor.

“Like I said,” Girika answered, “I don’t get paid enough for this.”

Saraca sighed. His gaze travelled across his plainly unamused wives before landing on Xoc.

“Xoc, how do–”

“Nope!” Mitra planted her paws on her hips.

“But–”

“Nooooooope! Don’t tell him, Xoc. That information is too dangerous for him to know.”

Xoc, who was hiding behind Mitra’s arm, nodded empathetically.

Just what the hell do they do?

Their adamant insistence on keeping the answer from him only served to make him more curious.

“Winter Moon came back just now,” Girika said.

“Oh good,” the Chaaran said. “We’re sooooo close to figuring out the thingy, I just know it!”

“You just missed her,” Saraca said. “I told them that you were going around this terrace and they went looking for you.”

“What did they do out in the city?”

“I didn’t ask.”

Mitra gave him an odd look.

Not you, too…

Usually, his wives were very ‘protective’, warding away any females who came on to him. Mitra’s excitement over finding a fellow Dancer of rare calibre had probably overridden that behaviour. Unfortunately, Winter Moon seemed outwardly oblivious to what was going on.

“There you are!”

A voice came from the ramp leading from the inn. It wasn’t exactly new; Saraca was sure he had heard it somewhere before…

“Xoc!”

The Ocelo whom they had first seen Xoc with below the arena jogged up to them.

“What’s wrong, Chimali?" Xoc asked.

“I haven’t seen you at the fighting pits for weeks,” Chimali answered, then seemed to realise the rest of them were there. “Oh, did they come for you already?”

Xoc went rigid. Saraca scrutinised the youth.

So he’s not here because he was worried about her being away for so long?

Then again, Itzli would have said something if he had asked after her while she was out of the city.

“C-come for me?” Xoc failed to contain her wariness, “What do you mean?”

Saraca glanced at the Masons in the pit. The newcomer was preoccupied with Xoc, so he hadn’t noticed them yet. Saraca stepped forward, filling the Ocelo’s vision. The youth stared up at him, shrinking in on himself and taking a step back.

“What have you done?” Saraca demanded.

The youth lowered his head.

“S-some warriors from Clan Ki’ra came with me, good lord. They’re down at the river.”

“Clan Ki’ra?” Xoc grew panicked, “Why would one of the great clans come for me?”

“We can talk on the way down.”

Saraca stepped forward again, pressuring the youth back down the ramp.

?Get these Humans to the upper terrace, just in case.?

A pair of his escorts went to carry out his orders. Xoc fidgeted nervously as they descended to the waterfront.

“Why are they here for me?” She asked, “Am I in trouble?”

“No, not at all!” Chimali replied, “The great clans have come to the city. They’ve been spectating in the fighting pits, looking for mighty warriors!”

“I’m not exactly a mighty warrior…”

“Don’t sell yourself short, Xoc,” Chimali said. “The warrior clans will recognise a true warrior when they see one. I told them about your moves and they immediately asked to meet you. This is your big chance!”

Her big chance is already here…

Saraca glowered at Chimali’s back. Clan Ki’ra wasn’t trying to make up for its recent loss in fighting power, was it? He empathised with their situation, but what Xoc was doing in Ghrkhor’storof’hekheralhr was far more important for Rol’en’gorek as a whole.

Even with what was going on on the Jorgulan Front, it would take generations for the Jorgulans to make substantial gains against Rol’en’gorek. Tribal states only advanced as far as they needed to, slowly expanding their borders through steady competitive pressure. Their Green Dragon masters were not much different, as Dragons tended to stick to their domains and those domains very slowly grew as the Dragons did. Younger Dragons striking out from their parents’ domains would find it hard to settle in Rol’en’gorek with Dragonslayers constantly on the prowl for them.

With luck, it would be enough time for Xoc to build a foundation upon which she could begin to change Rol’en’gorek’s situation. At the same time, the Beastman Confederacy’s sphere of influence would have expanded westward. What Rol’en’gorek needed was not to stubbornly throw bodies at their growing problem in the east, but to pursue domestic development to the extent that the Confederacy saw fit to intervene on their behalf. When that happened, the Green Dragons would have no chance.

Outside the front of the inn, they found a pair of Baagh watching the river. The two turned at the approach of Saraca’s party, and their expressions shifted.

“…you’re Saraca, aren’t you?”

Both of the awaiting Baagh were members of Rana Saj’s warband and had accompanied the Baagh Lord through the fighting in the east.

“Most of the time,” Saraca replied with a chuff. “It’s been a while.”

“Indeed,” the warrior replied. “My lord said you’d be in Ghrkhor’storof’hekheralhr somewhere, but it’s always a horribly chaotic place. We feared we’d have to offer a bounty for information on your whereabouts.”

“That desperate to see me, eh?”

Despite Saraca’s good-humoured reply, the warrior’s laughter seemed forced. Did things take a dire turn on the Jorgulan Frontier? Or had the Yeti mounted a fresh offensive in the Worldspine?

“I-it’s as I promised, isn’t it?”

The warrior’s attention turned to Xoc’s acquaintance, who shifted back at their sudden scrutiny. He glanced at the hunter beside him, who examined Xoc for a moment before nodding with a brusque grunt. The warrior fished a copper coin out of the purse tied to his belt and dropped it into the youth’s paw. Rather than take his leave, Chimali lingered and glanced between them.

“You said something about a bounty…”

This brat…

A silver coin joined the copper. Chimali bobbed his head several times before turning to scurry away, coins clutched to his chest.

“He’s not your friend, I suppose,” Saraca asked.

“I wouldn’t call him that,” Xoc answered. “You saw him when we first met, right? He’s more like a…well, he tries to push me into being showier in the fighting pits. He said that it would bring in more money, but…”

Xoc’s voice trailed off. Her eyes went to the two Ki’ra warriors.

“A-anyway,” she said, “why did you come for me? And how do you know Saraca?”

“He visited our clanhold a few months ago,” the Ki’ra warrior replied. “As for why we’re here, that’s a discussion for a more private setting. If you don’t mind…”

Silence fell between them. Saraca cleared his throat and gave Xoc a pointed look.

“Oh,” the young Ocelo said. “Please, lead the way.”

As the Ki’ra warriors led them through the city, Xoc fell in beside him.

“I’m not in trouble, am I?” She asked in a low voice. “Because of the you-know-what.”

Saraca chuckled lightly in response.

“No,” he said. “Your acquaintance’s motives were clear enough. He received a finder’s fee for locating warriors.”

With her life consumed by the efforts to restore the Pa’chan Clan, Xoc was seeing things through a somewhat twisted lens. In a way, it was good to know that she was well and truly invested, but he hoped that Xoc would learn to look beyond her clan to the world at large while still keeping her people in mind at all times.

“So,” Girika said. “Xoc’s worth a copper coin, but the lot of us are only worth a silver?”

“It was an accidental finding,” the Ki’ra warrior replied hastily. “We meant no slight.”

“Warriors stink at pricing things anyway,” Devi said lightly. “Remember that Red Dragonhide that Saraca picked up in Great Tear?”

“And that box of Hibernal Quartz from the Obsidian Plain,” Mitra added. “How would they even be able to get their hands on that, anyway?”

“Then there was that chakram that he somehow convinced himself was the Sudarshana Chakra,” Karuvaki said.

“Oh, give me a break…”

His entourage burst into laughter. The Ki’ra warriors seemed to relax, and they swiftly made their way to an old clanhold two valleys away from the Cuorocos Cliffs.

Like Xoc’s ancestral home, it was in a state of utter ruin. At the centre of the clanhold, they found the Lord of the Ki’ra Clan standing at a brazier with several other unfamiliar Lords. Those in attendance had formed a circle around the hold’s central clearing, where two warriors were engaged in a bout.

“Refilling the ranks?”

Rana Saj turned at the sound of his voice.

“Saraca?”

“I wasn’t sure when you’d arrive,” Saraca said. “How fare things in the east?”

“The wet season’s come in full force, so we just let the Jorgulans have the pass as planned. Our relief has assumed their station at Gor’lior and they’re closely monitoring the situation. So far, the Jorgulans haven’t pressed their advance beyond the usual. The other parts of the front haven’t reported any irregularities, either.”

Saraca made a sound deep in his throat. He couldn’t say that it was a bad thing to have a reprieve from the Commonwealth’s unexpected and devastating offensive, but, at the same time, it may have been another cunning move made by Rol’en’gorek’s enemies. Rather than continuing their push, they may have chosen to let things cool off to encourage complacent thinking and lacklustre preparations on Rol’en’gorek’s part.

“So you’ve been left to recover normally,” Saraca said. “Is that why you’re looking for warriors?”

“You mean this?” He gestured to the ongoing bout, “No, this is something else. Actually, it’s a good thing we found you when we did. We were still deliberating over what to do in the east when dire word arrived from the west.”

“Dire word…you mean from the Draconic Kingdom?”

Rana Saj nodded grimly. Saraca furrowed his brow. Despite everything else that was going on, Clan Torokgha still seemed to have things well in hand. Did the Black Scale Dragon Lord finally decide to act?

“What happened?” Saraca asked.

“An Undead army appeared, sweeping in from the northwest.”

“Hah?”

“That was exactly our reaction,” Rana Saj replied dryly. “A Con runner barged into the council session for the Jorgulan problem a few days ago and just dumped it on us. Seriously, what is Rana Dratha doing? This was the last thing we needed…”

“A call to arms, then?”

“Indeed.”

A part of him stirred restlessly at the news. Saraca did not exult in warfare, but it still held an undeniable allure. He was a Warmaster, after all.

“Wait a minute,” Xoc said. “You’re looking for warriors to fight the Undead?”

“We are,” Rana Saj said. “There is a great need for warriors who can perform Martial Arts–er, who is this young lady?”

“A warrior that we were led to,” one of the Ki’ra clansmen said. “We found Saraca with her by chance.”

Rana Saj gave Xoc an appraising look.

“Hmm…well, since you’ve caught Saraca’s eye, you must be something special.”

“I, uh…”

“Her name is Xoc,” Saraca said. “She’s trying to rebuild her clan.”

“In Ghrkhor’storof’hekheralhr?” Rana Saj raised an eyebrow and chuckled, “I think fighting the Undead will be easier by far. We have a place for every warrior. Even the novices that we send can destroy Skeletons and Zombies, and that will free up our veterans for more powerful threats.”

“What’s the worst of what you’re facing?” Saraca asked.

If it was an Undead army, there would be at least an Elder Lich. That should have been a negligible issue for Clan Torokgha, so the Katze Plains must have been home to a cabal. Elder Liches usually kept to themselves, however, so it was puzzling why they would leave their strongholds to invade the Draconic Kingdom. Furthermore, despite their intellect, their strategies and tactics were simple and predictably in line with their Undead nature. They would be less an army and more a horde, though there may have been some basis for that distinction.

“The runner had few details; only names and descriptions for those without names. Numerous Elder Liches. There are other types, just as strong, but we don’t know what they’re called.”

“What do they look like?”

“Tall humanoid warriors, clad in spiked black plate armour with pulsing red veins. In one hand, they wield long, undulating swords that glow with a black light. In the other, they hold a tall tower shield.”

“Death Knights,” Saraca rubbed his jaw. “No wonder you’re looking for more warriors.”

Death Knights alone were not a problem for any country with a respectable military. The problem was the huge wave of Zombies that came with them if they were allowed to rampage unchecked. Since they had come down through the civilian-occupied territories of the Draconic Kingdom, he wouldn't be surprised if there were millions of Zombies in the Undead forces.

“We’d love to hear more about them from you,” Rana Saj said. “It’s reassuring to have someone of your experience to learn from.”

Learn from, huh…it sounds like they’re still confident of victory. Well, I’d bet on them too if it was just a Death Knight.

While the numbers were a real threat without sufficient coverage, the true problem was something else that Rana Saj’s statements implied.

Most Elder Liches weren’t very strong. Elder Liches that had grown to be as strong as Death Knights, however, were close to becoming Sixth-tier casters. In other words, Night Liches. It was even possible that some of the ‘Elder Liches’ reported were in reality Night Liches, as they were outwardly identical in appearance and cared not for the trappings of mortals beyond their utility.

A stray thought occurred to him.

“Were there any Soul Eaters?”

“What are those?” Rana Saj asked.

“They look like skeletal horses,” Saraca answered, “wreathed in a sickly yellow-green mist.”

“No, there wasn’t anything reported resembling that.”

In hindsight, it was a stupid question. If a Soul Eater had appeared, the resulting carnage would make it the very first thing that was mentioned.

“How is Clan Torokgha holding out?”

“The Undead tore through the civilian migrants,” Rana Saj replied, “but they’ve been stalled at the borders of Clan Torokgha’s territory. There were a few fights involving around ten thousand Undead each, but Rana Dratha’s forces handily destroyed them.”

“If they’re still asking for help, then there must be plenty more.”

“It’s difficult for their scouts to get a definitive count,” Rana Saj said, “but it only ever seems that more come. We need to do something about the Undead while we still have them under control.”

That much Saraca could agree on. It was better to present a unified front against an existential threat than to suffer defeat in detail. He looked around at the gathered Lords, most of whom were still evaluating the warriors demonstrating their skills.

“How many clans will be participating?” Saraca asked.

“As many as we can afford,” Rana Saj answered. “We need to maintain our border defences, of course, but it will still be an army the likes of which Rol’en’gorek has never seen. With those forces at the Warmaster’s disposal, I dare say that our work will be done before the dry season returns.”