Valkyrie's Shadow

The Tiger and the Dragon: Act 6, Chapter 7

The Tiger and the Dragon: Act 6, Chapter 7

Chapter 7

26th Day, Upper Wind Month, 1 CE

The following morning, Nemel left her tent – fully dressed this time – stretching away the night’s laziness while she examined the dimly-lit surroundings. As with the previous morning, the men at the fire turned to greet her.

“Mornin’ Mistress Nemel.”

“Good Morning,” she smiled. “How were things overnight?”

“Quiet,” Joel Baumer said. “Not a Goblin to be seen. Gettin’ a bit warmer, too.”

Nemel sat down on one of the three logs arranged in an open-ended rectangle around the campfire. She leaned forward to look into the simmering pot of soup. Someone handed her a cup of steaming tea.

“We’re goin’ through the food we brought with us first like you asked, Mistress Nemel.”

“We brought about two months’ worth, didn’t we?”

“Sounds about right.”

“I’m feeling just a bit silly about that now,” Nemel said.

Most everything was cheap in Engelfurt, so she was compelled to stock up as much as she thought was reasonable. A good part of those supplies was food, which came in the form of sacks and sacks of lentils.

It made sense at the time. She didn’t know precisely what they were getting into or how regularly they would be able to supply. Or whether they could make enough to afford supplies, should supplies be available. Transportation and storage costs drove up the price of goods, after all.

Lentils were good for Imperial Knights and labourers alike, so Nemel figured that she couldn’t go wrong with that. Now, they would be eating lentil soup for months.

“To be fair, Mistress Nemel,” Joel Baumer said. “We had lentil soup every day back in the Empire, too. Having a full belly of decent food is nothin’ to complain about.”

Nemel received a bowl of soup with bits of sausage in it. She stirred it idly as she took inventory of the camp.

As promised, the four small storehouses had been completed, their timber frames fitted with wattle-and-daub panels. The workshop – which consisted of an open work area with a yard cleared out next to it – was about halfway done. A wide path was being cleared to the river where they would be building the pier.

“Say,” Nemel said. “What if we got the Death Warrior captain to help chop down trees? It’s got a biiiig sword, doesn’t it?”

She stole glances at the men around her, trying to gauge their reactions.

“I-I think we’ll be fine, Mistress Nemel,” one of the woodcutters said. “Besides, swords aren’t meant for cuttin’ trees…”

So much for that.

“Then what about Goblins?” She asked.

“Gob…Goblins?”

“Yeah,” Nemel nodded. “As in the ones across the river. You saw some Goblins back in the border town, right? They didn’t look so bad.”

Compared to Undead, Goblins probably felt less crazy to them. Probably. Dame Verilyn suggested that she try Goblins anyway.

“Aren’t Goblins pretty dumb?”

“They can do things!” Nemel said, “I saw what they had yesterday. They wove panels out of branches sort of like we do. Plus they had clothing made out of cured hides. That means they can do some of the work we’re doing here. Now that we have a good idea of what the land has, I want more labour to get things rolling faster. We won’t be able to bring in another batch of people from the Empire until the end of spring.”

The men around the fire exchanged wordless looks. On second thought, Goblins didn’t have a much better reputation than that of the Undead.

“If you want to try, Mistress Nemel, then I guess we’ll see how it goes.”

“Really?” Nemel blinked, “I-I mean, good! I’ll go and talk to them right…no, wait.”

Nemel finished her breakfast and went back to her tent. She put on her flight goggles and fished up the manuals from the Sorcerous Kingdom’s administration and returned to the fire with them. The men stared as she flipped through the pages, reading them through her goggles.

“Are you alright, Mistress Nemel?”

“It can’t be helped!” Nemel blushed, “It’s too dark to read in the morning here. These goggles have a darkvision enchantment.”

She probably looked like a madwoman with the things on.

Before she tried anything, she needed to know what she could and couldn’t do. Fortunately, the laws that dealt with provincial governance were derived from the laws of Re-Estize. The Empire, too, derived its laws from the same legislative foundation: she just needed to figure out what the differences were between them. Going around assuming that she could act as if she were in the Empire was bound to get her in trouble.

Broadly speaking, the currents of migration were determined by the people themselves. Simply put, people went where they thought they could earn a living. Those who worked in primary industries such as farming and forestry signed contracts of tenancy with landlords. Tradesmen and Merchants purchased licences to operate and leased lots for their businesses.

Spares – those who did not hold contracts of tenancy or couldn’t find work in the local workshops – went to places where their skills were in demand. If all else failed, they could put themselves up for menial labour in the towns and cities. A Noble drew from that pool of spares if there were newly-claimed lands to settle, but Nemel couldn’t recall any cases where someone brought in Goblins or any other Demihumans, for that matter.

Human countries assumed that migrants were Human and those migrants would, of course, be accustomed to Human society. There were no procedures for Demihuman migrants. In the Empire, the existence of Demihumans wasn’t strictly illegal. However, the few precedents that existed were exceptional people and celebrities like the Martial Lord and Fan Long, the Ape Beastman of Silver Thread Bird, an Adamantite Adventurer Party. No one ever looked at that and turned around saying ‘well, that means Goblins can be citizens too’.

“Good Morning, Nemel.”

Fendros yawned and sat down beside her, then frowned upon taking in her appearance.

“What are you doing?”

“Trying to figure out if there’s some procedure for Goblin immigrants,” Nemel answered.

“…are you really standing firm on that ‘Goblin Farmer’ thing?”

“Of course! There’s no reason not to. Not that I know of, anyway. It’s weird when you think about it.”

“I can think of a lot of ‘weird’ things when it comes to Goblins, but what are you talking about?”

“Like…imagine if you were an imperial Noble out on the frontier,” Nemel said, “and, for whatever reason, you couldn’t get immigrants. So one day you just decide to get Goblin tenants. What happens then?”

Fendros furrowed her brow and stayed silent for a long time.

“See?” Nemel said, “it’s weird.”

Technically, one could have thousands of Goblin tenants. A Noble’s duties remained the same. They held the land in trust and they were obliged to manage it as best as they could. Laws needed to be upheld and productivity taxed. Aside from that, it didn’t matter if one had Humans or Goblins or Storm Giants as tenants. Not that Storm Giants would want to be tenants under a Human.

“The Imperial Army would chase them away,” Fendros said.

“But would they? Unless your Goblin tenants commit crimes, there’s nothing they can charge you for. Being a Goblin isn’t illegal in itself.”

“The neighbouring Nobles would still demand that they be removed,” Fendros replied. “Probably all of the people too.”

“But that’s us,” Nemel said. “Humans. Well, not even all Humans. Just the ones brought up thinking that Goblins are arbitrarily evil or something.”

“I think you’re just trying to convince yourself that Goblin tenants are a great idea…”

“I’m doing it!” Nemel clenched her fist, “Let’s go, Goblin tenants! They’re already citizens of the Sorcerous Kingdom anyway.”

“Eh…”

Nemel marched off towards the riverbank. Then she marched back to her tent to put on her equipment.

What do I even say?

She should have tried speaking to the Goblins in that town. The Imperial Army taught its soldiers how to kill Goblins, not get along with them. What did they like? What if she said something that offended them? Nemel’s mind worked furiously as she tried to devise a suitable strategy for attracting Goblin migrants.

Maybe I should just offer them the same thing as everything else? Would they even understand or appreciate what any of it means?

Humans were a race that formed tribal structures, but Human civilisation had advanced and that tribal structure became more complex as a result. If she stripped away all those complexities, would it become understandable to Goblins? Would she be able to introduce those complexities over time?

A Noble house was basically the ruling family of a Human tribe. Back in ancient times, those ruling families were expected to defend their territory and lead their tribes in war. In short, they were the martial elite of society – martial Nobles. In Demihuman terms, they were Human Lords.

As the daughter of a Noble house, Nemel was a Human Lord…maybe? She wasn’t sure if it counted since she was a magic caster. It was also uncertain if Goblins would accept being under a Human Lord, but Goblins were well known for integrating into tribes of stronger Demihumans. If any Demihuman race could coexist with Humans, it would be Goblins. Probably.

Nemel flew east along the river, looking for the smallest tribe of Goblins she could find. A few tribes weren’t there anymore, leaving the remains of their campfires and bits of refuse behind. Some others had moved in, including one with a pair of Ogres. She avoided that one.

An hour later, she settled on a group of six Goblins. Two appeared to be mystics while the rest didn’t wear any marks of status. Not only was it a small group she thought she could escape from if things went sideways, but the ratio was also close to what Baroness Zahradnik was aiming for in terms of her population.

One caster in every three is crazy – even the Empire doesn’t have anywhere close to that many…but what if I could pull it off?

She cast Invisibility on herself and flew into the trees above them, still trying to figure out what to say as she watched them work. Maybe she could entice them through benefits alone.

Mmh…I can’t float around thinking about it forever. Here goes nothing!

Nemel flew to a spot over the river where they wouldn’t be able to swarm her. She dispelled her Invisibility and called out to them.

“Ex-excuse me! Hello? You Goblins over the–”

The icebound peak of Mount Verilyn crossed beneath her when she came to again.

It hurts. Oh, gods, it hurts so much! What happened?

A claw with scales like moonstone gripped Nemel around her torso. Webbed wings beat rhythmically in the corners of her vision. A voice drifted down from above.

“You’re finally awake.”

“Dame Verilyn? What happened to me–ugh!”

Pain shot through her entire body. Something was terribly wrong. Was she going to die?

“Don’t move,” the Frost Dragon said, “you’re still healing.”

“Healing from what–ergh!”

Her vision blurred and wavered. Talking hurt. Even breathing hurt.

“Um…a tiny accident,” Dame Verilyn said. “I came back to consult you on something. You were just floating above the river so I decided to pick you up.”

“So you flew into me?”

Airborne collisions were serious business. It happened with the Imperial Air Service more often than Nemel thought reasonable, especially considering how big the sky was. Injuries and even death could happen when Hippogriffs did anything more than graze one another in flight. Having a one-tonne Dragon smack into a stationary Human was undoubtedly far worse.

“Oh, no,” Dame Verilyn scoffed. “If that happened, you’d be dead. I slowed down to pick you up very gently, but you still snapped in several places.”

“S-snapped?”

“As in broken. Your neck. The right side of your rib cage and your back in two places. Your hips detached from your spine, but I caught–”

Nemel’s stomach heaved. She would have screamed from the hellish agony had she not been preoccupied with raining her breakfast onto the pristine fields of snow far below.

“…are you alright?”

“No,” Nemel croaked.

Dame Verilyn silently glided over the mountains, slowly descending over the carefully cultivated vineyards of Corelyn County on the other side. Corelyn Harbour crossed to the north of them, the white limestone walls of Castle Corelyn gleaming in the noonday sun.

When the pain all over her body receded by a few orders of magnitude, Nemel tried talking again. Her voice still came out dulled with pain.

“Where are we going?”

“The town near the imperial border,” Dame Verilyn answered.

“What was it you wanted to consult with me about?”

“Fees.”

Frowning was about the only thing that didn’t hurt.

“…fees?”

“Yes, fees. The Imperial Army delivered some things from The Blister, but they didn’t pay for all of the fees associated with storage!”

“But they’re your things, right?” Nemel frowned, “You’re lucky that they didn’t bill you for transportation.”

“They’d do that? To me?”

“It’s not that they’re doing it to you specifically, it’s just how things work, isn’t it? Shipping, handling and storage require resources. Wasn’t finding out about all those things part of your work in the Empire?”

“It was, but those are Human things.”

“Those taxes that you want to collect are a ‘Human thing’ too…”

“Yes, but it’s a Human thing that works to my benefit. Why would I want to do Human things that don’t?”

“…”

“…”

“So you nearly killed me because…what? So I could go and get your storage fees waived somehow?”

“I wouldn’t kill any of my minions like that! It’d be a waste. I’d at least allow you the dignity of being eaten.”

Ahead of them, the town grew larger. They crossed over one of the two tower keeps beyond the town’s outskirts before Dame Verilyn angled herself towards the warehouse district lining the highway.

“You’re paying,” Nemel said.

“What! That’s arbitrary. You don’t even know how much I have to pay yet!”

Nemel rolled her eyes. The pain had mostly ebbed away.

“I doubt it’s anything unreasonable. You won’t be able to get your stuff if you don’t pay your fees.”

“That’s why it’s probably unreasonable. They have my stuff, now they’ll squeeze me for everything I have!”

“They wouldn’t do that!”

“Why not? I would.”

Citizens scattered out of the way and stared from the sides as Dame Verilyn alighted on the street in front of the district office, gently setting Nemel down onto the pavement. Nemel patted her hands all over her body, worried that something might fall off if she moved from where she stood. She was still somewhere beyond sore, but at least pain didn’t constantly threaten to overwhelm her thoughts anymore.

“Promise me that you’ll let me take care of this for you,” Nemel said.

“That’s why I picked you up,” Dame Verilyn said.

Nemel winced at the ‘picked up’.

“It’s going to be fair,” she told Dame Verilyn. “‘Fair’ doesn’t mean you don’t pay anything.”

The Frost Dragon’s head swivelled away.

“Dame Verilyn!”

“Fine! Just please get this behind us so I can stop agonising over it.”

What was there to agonise about? They were just paying storage fees.

Nemel walked into the office. The man at the desk looked up as she crossed the threshold of the door.

“What can I do for you, officer?” He said, “Another convoy?”

“I, uh…” She glanced down at her equipment, “I’m not on duty as an imperial officer at the moment. I’ve come to settle some fees for Dame Verilyn.”

The clerk pulled a clipboard from under the desk and presented it face-forward on the counter.

“Was wonderin’ where that Elf woman went,” he said.

“Thank you very much,” Nemel said, “I’m sorry about…wait, why are the fees so high?”

“See what I mean?!” Dame Verilyn’s voice came from outside.

“Details are right on there,” the clerk said. “Storage, security, handling. You can check with the rates posted behind you.”

“…may I examine the warehouse?”

In response, the man hit a bell on the counter. A younger clerk came out from the back.

“Show the miss to warehouse sixty-eight,” the clerk at the desk said.

The younger clerk nodded. He let out a frightened shout upon finding a Frost Dragon right outside the door.

“I-is this your mount, Miss Verilyn?” He motioned to Dame Verilyn.

“Rude,” Dame Verilyn snarled.

Nemel chased after the man as he scurried away down the street. They stopped at a warehouse several hundred metres away. The exterior of the structure was well-lit and a Death Knight stood at each corner.

“We’re paying for Death Knight security?” Nemel asked.

“Yes, that’s right,” the young man answered. “Deliveries from the Empire started arriving last month, so you’re paying for that entire period.”

The clerk unlocked a service door and led them inside. He lit a magic torch and held it over his head.

“Feel free to take a look around, miss.”

She went over to a row of iron-bound chests, stopping at the first. The clerk produced a key ring, holding it up in front of his face before picking out one of the keys. Nemel gasped at the glittering content within. It was filled to the brim with platinum coins.

“Are…are these all like this?” Nemel asked.

“We delivered the manifest to your agent, miss. Everything should be on there.”

No wonder they were using Death Knight security. She glanced at the Frost Dragon that had padded into the warehouse unnoticed before smiling at the clerk.

“Could you give us a moment, please?”

“Sure thing.”

After the man went outside, Nemel went up to Dame Verilyn, who was sniffing at the rows of chests.

“Those fees are fine.”

“How are they ‘fine’?” The Frost Dragon replied.

“There’s so much treasure here! Where is it from, anyway?”

“As I said, The Blister. For my part in the Imperial Army’s operation, they agreed to hand me one-twentieth of the spoils discovered.”

Five per cent of one hundred fifty years of tribute from the most prosperous region of the Empire…

Plus whatever the Viridian Dragon Lord collected aside from that and the wealth of the Demihuman tribes dwelling in the jungle. The amount of wealth she had gained so quickly would make anyone wonder what point there was in honest work.

“Why are you even fussing over the fees, if that’s the case?”

“It’s a matter of principle. That security was unnecessary.”

“But the Empire was thinking of protecting your treasure when they leased the warehouse,” Nemel said. “It’s not as if they were trying to get something back through the security fees. It’s not even their security–ah! Stop scratching the floor! You have to pay for any damages, you know.”

The Frost Dragon’s claws ceased rending the stone. If Dragons could pout, Dame Verilyn was doing it. Nemel called the clerk back in.

“We’ll settle the fees now,” Nemel said. “Plus there’s some damage to the warehouse. From this point onward, could the shipments from the Empire be redirected to Warden’s Vale?”

“Sure thing, miss. The Empire just drops it off here, so we’ll have to transfer the cargo to our transports and send ‘em over that way.”

“What does that entail?”

“Hmm…they come in with five wagons once a week. We can load all that into one cargo container and send it over.”

“Is that cheaper than conventional transport?”

“Much cheaper, miss,” the man nodded. “I doubt anyone that uses containers would ever want to go back to the old way we did things. It’s basically one wagon and one Soul Eater instead of five. Plus the rental for the container and the usual labour for loading and unloading. You’ll have to arrange for storage and transport on your end.”

“We’ll go with that, then,” Nemel said. “Is there anything else we need to do?”

“Nope. Once your business is settled at the office, we’ll start bringing it all over.”

If there was one thing good about dealing with Merchants, it was that they went straight to the point once things came down to business. If Nemel were dealing with another Noble, she’d be stuck for hours as they offered hospitality suitable for the station of their guest, showed her around the place and pointed out all of the things that they thought would raise the prestige of their house.

After paying for everything, they flew back to Dame Verilyn’s territory. Nemel, of course, went by way of the claw.

“Can’t you just let me ride on your back?” Nemel asked, “I feel like a mouse in an eagle’s claws.”

“When it comes to predator-prey relationships,” Dame Verilyn answered, “you’re pretty much that.”

“But I’m not your prey,” Nemel frowned. “And what was that about eating me just now?”

“I said it would be a waste.”

“But if it wasn’t, you would.”

“It depends. There’s plenty of less valuable food around. Like deer.”

“So if you were starving and there was no food around, you’d eat me.”

“Yes. I have a much better chance of survival in most situations than you. All I have to do is keep a lock of your hair and get you resurrected after I get out of said situation. If I just starve to death, we’d both be doomed to whatever doom was facing us. Not that I can think of anything that might result in that.”

Was she being practical? Practically evil? She’d probably describe what Nemel tasted like after her resurrection, too.

Nemel dangled in silence as they crossed back over Mount Verilyn. Despite her undignified position, she did enjoy the view of the icebound peak.

“Oh, there’s a lake on top of this mountain. You can’t see it from below.”

“I can’t think of any mountain lake that one can see from below,” Dame Verilyn said. “That’s where I live, though.”

“I don’t see a house or anything…”

“Don’t be silly,” the Frost Dragon scoffed. “I have a good and proper lair.”

She looked around the lake, but she couldn’t see anything that suggested there was any sort of cave.

“I can’t see it.”

“That’s the point,” Dame Verilyn said. “I’m away all the time, so my lair has to be unknown and inaccessible. Er…don’t let anyone know.”

“Who else knows?”

“Lady Zahradnik. Lord Mare. My brother.”

Dame Verilyn returned Nemel to the base camp. The clearing was already more than wide enough to accommodate the Frost Dragon’s ten-metre wingspan, though they were in no way prepared for one to actually land there. She landed awkwardly right above the campfire, jumping up with a draconic squeak as the flames licked the scales of her belly.

Fendros, Elise and Ida lined up in front of Dame Verilyn as the men gawked from the edges of the camp.

“Welcome, Dame Verilyn,” they said.

“Is there a name for this place, yet?” Dame Verilyn asked.

“Um…Granville, maybe?” Elise suggested.

“No!” Nemel said, “That’s so embarrassing…”

“But that’s how places are named, isn’t it?” Fendros said.

“It is,” Nemel said, “but it’s still embarrassing. Hearing it makes me all itchy inside. Let’s try something else. Something that will be suitable for the future.”

“Well, you wanted to build the port for the territory,” Ida said, “so Granport.”

“Stop it!”

“Nemel’s Landing.”

“Argh!”

“Nemel’s Nest.”

“Humans don’t have nests, Dame Verilyn,” Nemel sighed. “Let’s leave the name for later.”

Maybe that’s why the border town didn’t have a name. Figuring out a good one was hard.

“Did you have any luck with the Goblins?” Fendros asked.

Nemel froze. She had completely forgotten about them. Probably because some horrible trauma wiped out any thought of it.

“I had to go help Dame Verilyn with something,” Nemel said. “I’ll go and do that before it starts getting dark.”

She walked over to the river. Dame Verilyn followed her.

“You’re coming with me?” Nemel asked.

“I’m curious about how it will turn out,” the Frost Dragon answered. “What were you planning on doing, anyway?”

Nemel related her reasoning on tribal dynamics and how they related to Human social structures and culture. Dame Verilyn nodded thoughtfully at her words.

“Well, I’m pleasantly surprised that you’re not just trying to turn them into little green Humans, but…”

“But?”

“You’ll see.”

On that ominous note, they arrived on the shore near the Goblin tribe from before. Nemel took a deep breath, trying to recall what she was going to say.

“My little minion,” Dame Verilyn sniffed, “off to destroy people.”

Nemel frowned over her shoulder, but Dame Verilyn was nowhere to be seen. Ahead of her, the Goblins had already noticed her approach. All six of them rose to their feet.

“Hello…”

The Goblins frowned at her. They could at least return her greeting.

“I’m Nemel Gran. I’ve come to ask if you’d like to migrate to my territory…er, join my tribe?”

Six pairs of eyes regarded her suspiciously.

“Big chief land!” One of the mystics thumped the butt of its staff in the dirt, “You not big chief!”

“Um, right. I’m not saying that this is my land. I just moved in recently. Across the river.”

Nemel pointed northward. One of the mystics snorted.

“Dragon land,” she said. “Not Human land.”

“It is Dragon land,” Nemel replied. “The thing is that the Dragon is my…chief? I work for her, at any rate. There are only a few of us living there right now and we’re looking for more people to build a new home together with. We have a lot of land and food and we can teach you all sorts of useful things. You can even live with us if you want.”

“Dragon…chief?” The male mystic wrinkled his flat nose.

“Yes, that’s right. Lady Zahradnik – the big chief – is the chief of the Dragon. Dame Verilyn – the Dragon – is my chief.”

The six Goblins looked more and more confused as she spoke. Nemel sighed.

“Look,” she said, “do you want to join my tribe or not?”

“Your tribe…” one of the Goblins frowned, “your tribe?”

“Right. I’m the chief of my tribe.”

A long moment passed in silence between them.

“Human Lord…” the female mystic said.

“Human Lord!” the male mystic joined in.

“Fight.”

“Fight.”

“Fight!”

“Eh?!?!”

The Goblins started dancing around, pumping their little fists in the air. One, who wasn’t dancing around, grabbed a crude spear.

“?Fly?.”

Nemel cast the spell as a reaction drilled into her rather than a calculated move, jumping backwards into the air. The Goblin ran forward, cocking its spear beside its head.

“?Protection From Arrows?.”

The spear sailed through the air straight towards her. It stopped ten centimetres away. The spent projectile dropped to the ground.

Her Goblin adversary stared at the spear for a moment before running back to the campfire. It started stringing a bow.

What should I do? I don’t want to hurt him…

This was definitely bullying. Even if she wasn’t Fluder Paradyne, Nemel was still a War Wizard trained by the Imperial Army. She pointed a finger at the Goblin, who was nocking a stone-headed arrow to its bow.

“?Sleep?.”

The Goblin fell over. Nemel floated back down to the camp. Silence fell as she tentatively went over to inspect her snoring opponent.

“Do I win?” She asked.

“Win.”

“Win.”

“Win!”

“Chief Gran!”

“Chief Gran!”

Nemel did her best to keep from cringing as the Goblins danced around her.