The Tiger and the Dragon: Act 10, Chapter 11

The Tiger and the Dragon: Act 10, Chapter 11

Chapter 11

15th Day, Middle Wind Month, 1 CE

“...you broke your promise.”

“I’m sooooo sorry!”

Mitra ran up to Winter Moon and rubbed her cheek against her arm. Winter Moon turned her head away.

“Something came up that we had to attend to,” Mitra said. “We can make up for it today, right? Right?”

The Chaaran continued rubbing herself against Winter Moon, chuffing and making other cute noises. Suddenly, Mitra peered at Saraca.

“Jealous?”

“Huh? No...”

He was somewhere between too tired to care and too preoccupied with the information discussed at the Clan Council meeting. Dozens of Ranas from all around Rol’en’gorek had been in attendance, and their discourse had stretched into the small hours of the morning. In the end, they had unanimously agreed to commit to the swift destruction of the Undead threat. Logistical arrangements still needed to be made, but the entire tribal confederation was now on the warpath.

Saraca, in particular, had been at the centre of most of the discussion, as he possessed far more knowledge of the Undead threat than any of the natives.

No, that may not be the case...

He looked at Winter Moon, who had returned to trying to figure out how to unlock her power as a Dancer. As a well-travelled Bard from the region, there was a chance that she knew more about what they faced than anyone else.

“Winter Moon,” he said, “if you don’t mind, I’d like to ask you a few questions about the region.”

The novice Dancer went through a few motions before replying.CHeCk for new stories on no/v/el/bin(.)c0m

“I thought I spent the entire ride here sharing the lore of the region.”

“You did,” Saraca nodded, “and we’re very appreciative of that. Something’s recently come up that begs more specific knowledge you may possess.”

“About what?”

“The Katze Plains.”

Winter Moon made a series of sweeping motions with her forepaws, stepping back lightly as she did.

“How large is the Katze Plains, roughly?” He asked, “How long has it been there for?”

“Roughly twenty-five thousand square kilometres,” Winter Moon answered. “Occupying the lower reaches of the Katze River Basin. As for how long it’s been there, as long as anyone can remember, according to the local lore.”

“‘As long as anyone can remember’ doesn’t happen to coincide with the appearance of the Demon Gods, does it?”

“Sadly, yes. Rol’en’gorek is far from the only place that was devastated by their advent. I suppose you could say that the Demon Gods are a unifying piece of history for this entire region, and few know of what went on before. No one knows how long the Katze Plains has been a negative energy wasteland for – only that it’s been there for at least that long. On that note, I have a question for you.”

“Sure, what is it?”

“What is the extent of the area affected by the Demon Gods?” Winter Moon asked, “How far must I travel before the fog that shrouds history dissipates and the depth and richness of the world stretch out beyond every distant horizon?”

The weight of Winter Moon’s melancholy was tangible even to him. How frustrating must it have been for such a talented Bard to dwell in a place like this?

“The first mention of the Demon Gods that we encountered was after we entered Rol’en’gorek,” Mitra told her. “We didn’t go around asking about them in the Great Lut, though. Our journey took us up the Syrillian way, so we spent most of our time at sea.”

“I see. Well, in that case, maybe it’s not as far as I feared. Tell me: are there other parts of the world like this? Where calamities plunge the lands into darkness and ignorance?”

“Almost every part of the continent has experienced a major calamity at least once, as far as our history tells. Others experience them repeatedly, or a calamity originates in one place and spreads to other parts of the world. They are a part of one of the great cycles of the world – one that happens every century.”

“Every century?” Winter Moon stopped moving around to stare at Mitra, “Does that mean that the entire world is in a similar state?”

“No,” Mitra replied. “The world is a big place and the calamities vary in severity. The central parts of the continent have only seen a few minor ones on the grand scale of things. There are probably some parts of the world that have been completely untouched because they’re so remote and unnoticed.”

“‘Unnoticed’ implies that one must be noticed by a calamity to be affected by it.”

“Not always,” Mitra said, “but I guess most people think of ‘calamities’ in terms of natural disasters, plagues and other things along those lines. These calamities, however, aren’t those. These ones have intelligence. Like the Demon Gods appeared to be, the calamities that come with the cycles are usually beings of incredible power. Other times, strange items appear that act as a catalyst for chaos. Some say that they aren’t even from our world at all.”

Saraca wondered if there was even a point in saying so. When the calamities made their appearance, understanding what they were and how they behaved didn’t stop them from doing what they did. Those that encountered them could only pray that they would at least survive.

“If they’re not from our world,” Ilyshn’ish said, “then where are they from?”

“Who knows?” Mitra shrugged, “It’s not as if we can do anything about it even if we knew. The point is that they’re alien and powerful enough to arbitrarily impose their alien ways, and it’s usually in some insanely irresponsible way from our point of view. I don’t even pretend to understand what drives them.”

“Have you encountered any of these ‘calamities’?”

“No, and I hope that I never do.”

Though she said that, they knew that the cycle was due. If they were lucky, the next calamity would appear at the bottom of the ocean and never surface.

“Back to the original topic,” Saraca said. “Do you know anything about the Katze Plains’ denizens? A negative energy zone that old and large should at least have rumours of powerful Undead lurking within.”

“I’m not sure what you consider ‘powerful’, but there are tales of Elder Liches and the like. The most popular one involves an Elder Lich who captains a Ghost Ship that comes and goes, but I also know that Death Knights have appeared in the past as well.”

“What happened to the Death Knights?”

“Rumour has it that Baharuth’s Imperial Army dealt with one before it could wreak havoc in its territories. Things like that come out rarely, but, as you mentioned, it’s a negative energy zone that’s been there for a long while. Who knows what else might be lurking deep within?”

It was what one might expect of local lore regarding a desolate wasteland filled with beings hostile to all life. His thoughts went back to the various speculations he had made on its existence and how the nations in its vicinity treated the place. In most parts of the world, allowing a negative energy zone the size of the Katze Plains to exist would be considered beyond foolish. Winter Moon confirmed Girika’s suspicions about negative energy dumping, so, rather than foolishness, it would be better to say that it was insanity.

What led to the generation of negative energy was something that every civilisation learned early in its development, but not all civilisations shared the same attitude or approach regarding that knowledge. In the case of the nations around the Katze Plains, they were aware of what it did to their territories since they purposely chose to conduct their battles there. Somehow, their purposeful decision to dump negative energy in the Katze Plains didn’t also come with the realisation that it was still a problem in the end.

...or perhaps they just considered it someone else’s problem unless the result came back to haunt them. It seemed that the short-sighted and selfish behaviour characteristic of feral humanoids was not only limited to the environmental impact of their actions and their relations with other species.

While he dwelt on his thoughts, Winter Moon returned to practising with Mitra again.

“Have there been any major Undead incursions to the neighbouring nations in the past?” He asked.

Wait, this sounds familiar...

“Does this ‘Adventurer Guild’ happen to be the organisation that uses metal tags of increasing value to distinguish their members?”

“Yes, that’s right,” Winter Moon replied. “Each Adventurer Guild branch has its nuances, but they broadly share the same system and practices.”

“I’m surprised that they didn’t attack you while you were investigating this, being a Demihuman and all.”

“Well, it’s not illegal to be a Demihuman in the Empire,” Winter Moon said. “It’s just that their laws are applied in an arbitrary and inequitable manner. I happened to be travelling with a Merchant caravan, so I was recognised as a traveller. A Goblin minding their own business on the Azerlisian Frontier would be unapologetically ridden down by an Imperial Knight. Also, the more attractive you are to a Human, the less likely you are to be killed by them, and that sort of thinking generally influences all of their judgements.”

Saraca helplessly shook his head. The fringes of the known world were commonly known for their barbarism, but the extent of their savagery never ceased to shock and appal him.

“So in regards to the Undead,” he forced down his disgust, “these bounty hunters act as supplementary forces for local authorities who seek to keep the denizens of the Katze Plains at bay?”

“That’s right,” Winter Moon replied. “From what I could learn from the locals, the Empire commissioned them for threats that would be costly for the Imperial Army to deal with, while the Kingdom of Re-Estize used Adventurers exclusively. They practised a form of raiding where periodic incursions into the Katze Plains kept a buffer area clear of the Undead.”

What they did was a highly simplified version of the methods enacted by the crusader states bordering the frozen Dreadlands of the south. The Empire and Re-Estize would keep advanced Undead ecologies from forming along their immediate borders by doing so, but it wouldn’t address the problems brewing deeper within the Katze Plains. Full-scale expeditions deep into the wasteland were required to purge the Undead before they became a problem.

He could understand why they might be restricted to that, as it would be prohibitively expensive even if a country didn’t use ‘Adventurers’. Suppressing the vast, economically unproductive region would be a constant drain on a country’s resources, and if every country around it didn’t commit to doing its part, the others would shoulder the cost and fall behind in other arenas. There was one country, however, that it shouldn’t have been a problem for.

“What about the Slane Theocracy?” Saraca asked, “I know that information about them might be hard to get considering the nature of their nation, but, if my suspicions are correct, they should have few issues keeping the Katze Plains clear.”

“What suspicions are those?”

“That they possess divine bloodlines – lineages that trace back to beings of supreme power who lived in the past. Some inherit that power, and even a fraction results in an extraordinarily strong individual. With such individuals, dealing with the Undead in the Katze Plains should be a trivial matter.”

“The Slane Theocracy is known for being much stronger and more advanced than the other countries in the region,” Winter Moon said, “but, as far as I know, they practise the same form of suppression as the other countries bordering the Katze Plains.”

Saraca tried to think of why they wouldn’t remove the source of an ever-present threat, but he could only think of them using it as some sort of risky training ground. It made a sort of sense as live combat was more effective at cultivating strength than drills, sparring or even war games, but the Undead that would commonly be found on the fringes of the wasteland wouldn’t be challenging foes for any but the greenest of recruits. Furthermore, the fighting in turn produced negative energy, which only served to exacerbate the problem.

“In that case,” he moved on, “they must have developed some specialised means of dealing with the Undead. Some form of holy warrior or anti-Undead priest, perhaps?”

“They have Clerics, Paladins and Priests,” Winter Moon replied, “which are more suited to dealing with the Undead than the average Demihuman mystic. I don’t really know anything beyond that, aside from the fact that the ones from the Theocracy appear to be a cut above the rest.”

I suppose one would expect that out of a Theocratic state...

He continued asking questions, but it occurred to him that he was asking a bit too much of Winter Moon. Her journeys as a Bard seemed to consist of peaceful travels around the region, and much of what he wanted to know involved experiences and knowledge that she wouldn’t be privy to. Information about the Undead was even more scarce – it wasn’t as if any sane person would want to be anywhere near them for longer than absolutely necessary, no matter how strong that person was.

With the potential source of relevant information exhausted, Saraca left Winter Moon and Mitra to their practice. He went down from the upper terrace and strolled absently through Xoc’s clanhold, his thoughts filled with what was going on in the Draconic Kingdom and Rol’en’gorek’s response to it.

Would a Dragon Lord even allow the Undead to overrun her lands?

The ways of Dragon Lords were difficult to understand, at best. Even their mixed descendants struggled to grasp even a fraction of their mindset. Dragon Lords held themselves in a lofty way that was easy to mistake for arrogance, but the truth was that they simply had a far wider perspective than most could comprehend or even perceive.

They tended to not care for individuals, communities or even countries. Empires could rise and fall in any number of ways and they would consider it acceptable. What was important to them was the world, and that the world functioned according to parameters that only beings of a primal nature such as they could sense. It was not something that they learned from others – it was a fundamental aspect of their being; something that they existed specifically to do.

With that role came their stupendous power and the ability to warp reality with the primal sorcery known as Wild Magic. The Dragon Lords of old were a force unto themselves, and they answered to nothing but the world itself.

Still, he couldn’t imagine that the Black Scale Dragon Lord would accept her domain being invaded by the Undead. As far as he could tell, her domain was ‘Human’ in nature. Getting raided by Beastmen was one thing, but the Undead were another entirely and their actions would leave a long-lasting stain on her domain even if she let the situation continue for long.

Was she not present? Or even dead somehow? Or perhaps she wasn’t very strong, being relatively young by a Dragon’s measure. It would explain much of what had happened to her country.

If that were the case, there was a good chance that the Katze Plains would grow to include the lands of the Draconic Kingdom. The self-centred attitude of the countries in the region would most likely see them remain passive to the threat. From what he knew of the Slane Theocracy, they would be more than happy to let the Undead wipe out Rol’en’gorek and the other non-Human powers in the area. Using a third party to achieve their ‘pro-Human’ goals was a good way of avoiding any direct intervention by the Platinum Dragon Lord.

If the Undead succeeded in their conquest, however, it would be the birth of a second Dreadlands. That was something that absolutely could not happen.

Saraca’s stroll took him past the smithy of the Human enclave, where he found Xoc being measured by her Human slaves. He stopped to regard them, a foreboding sensation washing over him.

“What are you doing?” He asked.

“I told them what was going on,” Xoc answered, “and they insisted on making armour for me. Well, they haven’t made armour for an Ocelo before, but they said they would try.”

“Armour? Why?”

Xoc looked up at him in confusion.

“Because the clans are calling for warriors to fight the Undead in the Draconic Kingdom? That means I should be going. Also, Chimali was right: this is the perfect opportunity to prove myself to the warrior clans. Getting their support early would be good, yeah?”

He glanced at the Human artisans, then around at the busy enclave. A low growl filled his throat.

“No,” he said.

“No?”

“You cannot go.”

“B-but why?”

“There’s too much at stake here,” Saraca said. “Out in the Dragonic Kingdom, you would be little more than one novice warrior amongst many. What you can do for Rol’en’gorek here in Ghrkhor’storof’hekheralhr outweighs what your contributions on the battlefield might be by far.”

Xoc looked back and forth between her artisans, then out at the nearby Ocelo watching them.

“The warrior clans will look down on us,” she said. “We’ll be marked as cowards.”

“They don’t even recognise your existence yet,” Saraca replied. “You may face some personal difficulties, but cooler heads will prevail once people understand the value of what you’re doing here. I’ll speak with Rana Saj about it while I’m out there with them. He’s a forward-thinking fellow, but all of his energy is dedicated to defending your confederation. I’m sure he’ll be more than happy to voice his support for your cause.”

The young Ocelo Lord blinked up at him.

“Wait,” she said, “you’re going to fight for us? But why? You have your own responsibilities, don’t you?”

“I do,” Saraca said, “and stemming the expansion of a dangerous negative energy zone while it’s still possible is in the best interests of my government. Having nothing but an endless blight greeting us when we finally expand our sphere of influence here would be trouble that we don’t want. The Undead are not just Rol’en’gorek’s enemies: they are the enemies of all life.”

“...but the Undead have already killed so many people,” Xoc said worriedly. “You made it seem like they were dangerously powerful yesterday, too.”

“Dangerous for Rol’en’gorek, perhaps,” Saraca offered her confident grin, “but not for us. Be it one Death Knight or one hundred, we’ll put an end to this army of darkness. Don’t worry about us. Focus on leading your people out of this other darkness that shrouds them. Rol’en’gorek believes that it has always been alone, and to be alone is a curse – a terrible curse that brings with it close-mindedness, stagnation and decay. Sometimes, even madness. You have a monumental task before you, Xoc: to survive, Rol’en’gorek can no longer be alone.”

Xoc’s shoulders slumped. She released a sigh of resignation.

“I just wanted to beat Rolo the Red.”