Legacy of the Plains: Act 1, Chapter 3

Chapter 3

“Bleeeeargh…”

“Oh, come on, Sorbin!” An exasperated voice carried out over the water, “How do you even have anything left in there?”

Germaine LeNez looked up from her manifest at the apprentice hanging over the edge of the boat. Another apprentice stood beside him…no, she was standing a safe distance away from him with both hands on her hips. Four other apprentices moved about the deck, preparing to disembark as they approached the southern end of Warden's Vale.

At first, they had all been uncomfortable being trapped on the ship with its Undead crew. The Death Warrior was especially imposing, but its strange hat offset things somewhat. Even after a few months, most of the city folk felt that way with the Undead that were now a visible part of their everyday lives. Children could get used to anything, so they didn’t think much of returning to life as usual, but the grown men and women in E-Rantel still kept their distance on the off chance that the Undead started acting more like the Undead.

To those who were unaccustomed to the sight, it probably seemed that the citizens of E-Rantel were perfectly fine with the Undead. ‘Perfectly fine’, however, would rapidly disintegrate when they came too close for comfort. It varied by person and it varied by the type of Undead, but it was rare to find someone completely unaffected by their presence.

People didn’t care much about Skeletons. Death Knights and Elder Liches were given around a two or three-metre berth on the street. Most tricked themselves into thinking that Soul Eaters were just different-looking horses. If the Sorcerer King randomly came around the corner – which he often did for some reason – it was anything just short of running and screaming, since doing so might be interpreted as Lèse-majesté. There were rumours that some people could even speak to the Sorcerer King without flinching, but the only ones Germaine knew of who could do that were Momon and Nabe of Darkness.

The Skeletons crewing the ship appeared to be Skeleton Warriors, a type much stronger than the Skeleton labour used around the city, but they had all become comrades that had to suffer Sorbin’s troubles over the past day. The kid heaved and wretched and wretched and heaved. Every bend in the river and eddy along their course brought a fresh new variation of his nauseating performance. One had to pay attention to when he took a drink – if the wind hit it just right as it came back out, it would all come spraying back onto the boat and into their faces.

Initially, Germaine was wary over any stains that Sorbin left on the spotless deck, wondering if he would become an additional stain on the deck should the Death Warrior become sick of him being sick. The ship was as pristine as the floor of the Shining Golden Pavilion, save for the sails that had a bit of patchwork on them. Any scores or chips in the wooden hull had been filled with some sort of alchemical agent and carefully refinished. The more romantically inclined might have considered the overall appearance comfortably adventurous.

Sorbin wretched over the side again and Germaine shook her head. She had heard of people getting sick riding wagons, but this was really something else.

“We’re done checking things over in the back, Miss LeNez.”

Germaine turned her attention away from Sorbin towards another apprentice, Pam, who was helping her go over their inventory.

“Anything broke?”

“No ma’am,” Pam replied, “the trip’s been pretty smooth.”

They glanced to the side of the ship as Sorbin heaved over the edge again. Seriously – where did he keep all that?

Germaine handed off her manifest, motioning for Pam to take over. She got herself out of the way, heading to the bow of the vessel to look out over the river. Warden’s Vale really was a nice place.

High peaks over sheer cliffs lined the eastern bank of the river, and a broad valley lay to the west. Now that Germaine could see over the high western bank, a vast wetland stretched out before her, all the way to the opposite side. Settlements of some sort were raised over the water on the southern end, but she couldn’t make out who their inhabitants were.

The stone bank rose, once again obscuring her view. The ship sailed along a stony island that jutted up well above its mast. After some time, they eventually came to a lowered area along a waterfront that Germaine presumed was fashioned with the same methods used in Corelyn Harbour.

At a glance, this section of the island appeared to be a harbour, though it was dissimilar to the one at Corelyn Harbour, which required the ship to pass through locks to get in and out of. Dozens upon dozens of openings could be seen cut into the stone as they sailed along. By the look of it, the Harbour in Warden’s Vale was composed of individual berths that could raise ships to the level above rather than having the entire harbour placed well over the flood line.

At the end of the waterfront, a pier jutted out into the river. Over the water, two banners fluttered in the morning breeze: the crimson and gold standard of the Sorcerous Kingdom, and the head of a white raven over a field of forest green. The latter brought to mind the sigil of House Zahradnik that Germaine’s paperwork was more frequently displaying as of late, and she supposed there was little reason for it to be anything but.

The ship glided in towards the pier, turning slowly as the Death Warrior worked the tiller. It stepped over and used its foot to gently settle the ship against its moorings. The Skeleton crew put away their oars and set about securing the vessel.

“Germaine LeNez?”

A raspy, almost feminine voice called out her name. She turned to the right, finding an Elder Lich standing on the pier with a clipboard in hand.

“That’s me…”

“You have arrived on schedule. Direct your minions to the designated transports.”

At the base of the pier, eight wagons – each drawn by a Soul Eater – were lined up. Six of them were loaded with timber. The other two were empty. It appeared self-explanatory.

“Alright, minions,” Germaine turned to address her apprentices with a grin, “you heard what the Elder Lich said. Let’s start getting our stuff off the–”

“That will be unnecessary,” the Elder Lich cut her off.

Four Death Knights walked down the pier towards them. Their tower shields were conspicuously missing, so she supposed that they were there to handle the cargo.

“Alright then,” Germain said, “out of the way, minions. Get to your, uh, designated transports.”

“I’m not your minion dammit!” One of her apprentices complained, “I–woah!”

A gauntleted hand reached down and yanked the apprentice out of the ship. He paled as he was dangled face to face with the Death Knight that held him.

“An unauthorized presence?” The Elder Lich’s voice turned grave.

“W-wha–let go!”

“What happens to unauthorized individuals?” Germaine looked up at her struggling apprentice.

“Under regular circumstances, illegal immigrants are processed by local authorities. The nature of your arrival, however, mandates legal action under the National Secrets Act.”

The Elder Lich turned to the Death Knight.

“Take this one to be tried by Lady Zahradnik.”

Germaine and the other apprentices looked on in morbid curiosity as the increasingly panicked cries of her apprentice echoed over the harbour. It was a scene that would have incited panic in the city, but the only other witnesses in the area that could be seen were Undead. The Death Knight did not go far, as Lady Zahradnik was waiting near the wagons.

The Baroness’ tall figure struck as gallant an impression as ever, maybe even more so now. She had the image of one of those squeaky clean nobles that little girls loved to fantasize over, except she was decidedly female. The Baroness frowned slightly as the apprentice was dangled before her, and he blushed despite his circumstances. Maybe it worked that way, too.

“Don’t tell me he’s another one of those…” Lady Zahradnik muttered.

“Another one of what, my lady?” Germaine asked.

“Once in a while – no, it has been happening more often now…well, that is not important. Is this one of yours?”

“Yup.”

Lady Zahradnik looked up at the Death Knight, and the apprentice flew into the nearest empty wagon bed.

“You weren’t kidding about that security thing,” Germaine crawled in with the rest of her apprentices.

“Why would I joke about something like that?” Lady Zahradnik said from the front seat of the wagon, “You and your apprentices did read all of the related materials beforehand, I trust?”

“I did, my lady,” Germaine replied, “but at least one dumbass here didn’t take it to heart.”

While they didn’t mandate anything like securing their magical technology with explosive countermeasures against tampering, the Sorcerous Kingdom was still extraordinarily strict when it came to their magic item industry. New research was restricted to secure, isolated areas approved by the government. These sites were not officially listed anywhere for public knowledge, but neither were they a secret. The industries at these locations were either the property of the Crown or the realm’s nobles. New items had to go through an approval process, dictating to whom and where the items could be produced and distributed.

Even after being approved for distribution, imports and exports were carefully tracked. For those purchasing magic items, the process was seamless and would probably appear to be more convenient than before. Those within the industry, however, understood just how much the administration was keeping an eye on things.

“Still,” Germaine recalled something unsettling she had noted while reading the legislation, “There’s only a minimum punishment listed for infractions.”

“That is correct,” Lady Zahradnik replied.

“Doesn’t that technically mean you can do anything to an offender?”

“Anything that meets the minimum required penalty, yes.”

Germaine wondered what Lady Zahradnik would do if a spy or thief was discovered. House Zahradnik, for all of its obscurity, was well-known for being extraordinarily austere and reportedly merciless towards intruders.

The Death Knights finished loading their cargo and the Soul Eaters brought their wagons up the gentle incline leading to the main harbour level. The tops of the berths that were cut into the stone could be seen stretching along the waterfront for a few kilometres. They were each several times the length of the ship they had arrived in. Around the nearest one, a Vampire Bride, an Elder Lich, and several Death Knights and Death Warriors were working to put together some unknown apparatus.

“What’s going on there?” She asked.

“They are putting together a gantry crane,” Lady Zahradnik replied. “Wagner and Corelyn say that the loading time for ships and wagons must see vast improvements to deal with the increased industrial production of the Sorcerous Kingdom. If not, we’re going to have problems keeping up with our logistical needs. After being stuck with a single vessel for nearly two seasons, I am forced to agree.”

“Even with Death Knights working for you?”

“Even with Death Knights,” Lady Zahradnik nodded. “Walking in and out with crates, bags and bulk freight while trying to organize everything takes far more time than people give the process credit for. I believe Lady Shalltear has provided us with an excellent solution, but we are still trying to make it work with what we have.”

“What is it?”

“Confidential,” Lady Zahradnik replied with a straight face.

Germaine made a face of her own, eyeing their surroundings as the wagons rolled by a long row of cargo yards and warehouses under construction. Corelyn Harbour was amazing in its own right, but the ambitious undertaking arrayed before them was overwhelming. By now, everyone in E-Rantel knew about Undead labour and what it meant for the industrial output of the Sorcerous Kingdom. Seeing the infrastructure being built to support this change made one keenly aware of its sheer magnitude.

They turned a corner, following some unmarked trail over the barren ground of the island. Past the partially-built front row of warehouses lay a vast, undeveloped space. The barren island stretched north to the horizon, while a looming hill rose to the south. On the other side of a deep depression that ran through the middle of the island was a cluster of buildings roughly two kilometres away. Beyond them, she could see the wetlands below the island stretching into the distance.

“Is that where we’re going?” Germaine pointed at the buildings.

“That is the commercial district,” Lady Zahradnik replied. “Your facilities are below the hill to the south, where most of the government buildings and protected industries will be. This all probably looks a bit strange right now…”

“Sure does,” Germaine replied, gaze going back and forth between the hill and the commercial district. “Do you mean to say we have to walk for two hours to buy something?”

“Soul Eaters will convey anyone that needs to travel from district to district. There are designated routes and stops that special carriages will operate on in the future. Going from your new workshop to the commercial district is a ten-minute ride.”

“Will it cost us anything?”

“No, it is an essential service for this place,” Lady Zahradnik told her. “The service will go out to the villages, as well. Soul Eaters do not have the expenses associated with maintaining horses, so it is not much of a burden on the budget.”

“But it will cost you something,” Germaine said. “All Undead labour is leased out, no? Wagons require maintenance, as well.”

“That is true. The service has a significant impact on the town budget at the moment, but the burden will be spread out as more and more people move in.”

The wagon went down a shallow ramp leading into the central depression. At the bottom appeared to be a wide road. The Soul Eater turned left, picking up speed as it advanced towards the distant hill.

“Do you intend on turning the entire island into a city?” Germaine asked.

“And fortify it,” Lady Zahradnik answered, “though doing so will be a long process. While building materials and labour are not much of an issue out here, having skilled professionals move in is.”

“So we’re your answer…”

“A part of it. The Sorcerous Kingdom’s desire to protect its technology works to the advantage of territories like mine, but it is not the only thing we have going for us.”

Before the wagon made another turn, they passed an area where rank upon rank of Death Knights, Death Warriors and other types of Undead Germaine hadn’t seen before were organized. Each one stood perfectly still, equipment gleaming in the mid-morning sun.

“Warden’s Vale will also be a major installation for the Sorcerous Kingdom’s armed forces,” Lady Zahradnik told her. “It will not only be a place to base the Undead servitors of the Royal Army but a facility to train the living as well.”

“The living?” Germaine frowned, “Why would the Sorcerous Kingdom need the living in their army? The Undead are powerful enough.”

“Everyone has something they excel at,” Lady Zahradnik replied. “The Sorcerous Kingdom encourages its citizens to pursue these paths.”

Leaving the Undead formations behind, their wagons continued following the road until it reached a huge complex of stone buildings at the southern base of the hill. The area it covered was at least eight times that of E-Rantel’s main plaza. Her apprentices cast uncertain looks towards one another as the procession stopped.

“You’re kidding me…”

Germaine resisted the impulse to rub her eyes.

“As well as being an alchemical manufactory,” Lady Zahradnik said, “residential quarters are located on the premises. In the future, this site will also serve as the Faculty of Alchemy for the magical community here.”

The Baroness hopped down from her seat, turning around to face Germaine with a charming smile.

“Welcome to your new home, Miss LeNez.”