Stone and Blood: Act 3, Chapter 3

Stone and Blood: Act 3, Chapter 3

Chapter 3

7th Day, Upper Fire Month, 1 CE

“Are you certain this is safe?”

“No.”

Florine glanced down at the rock beside her foot. The rock didn’t miss her look.

“The world is not a safe place,” the rock told her.

That might have been true, but it was no reason to make things even more unsafe. Then again, the rock had nowhere else to go.

A day previous, the first compliance violation – at least that was what Isoroku called it – from the tribes was reported. Since she instructed the administration not to act against the tribes on such issues before she had a chance to review them, they were spared immediate obliteration.

Once she finished her work and prepared to set off to address the ongoing violation, she was surprised to find that Boobeebee didn’t want to go. On that ominous note, she left the Dale of Defiance with Isoroku, Liolio, and the Vampire Bride. They travelled roughly eighty kilometres southwest arriving at what she thought may as well have been an alien world.

Florine’s boots shifted in the sand as she took in the panorama around her. To the north was the Abelion River, and near the horizon to the south was a dry grassland that stretched to Evansha according to her map. Between them was a vast, sandy landscape covering roughly that she mistook for odd-looking hills from a distance. She eventually came to realise that they were sand dunes, but unlike the dunes that one might see along a stretch of river or on the Empire’s northwestern coast, the dunes here were colossal. The one that she stood upon was over three hundred metres high.

A swirl of sand moving over the slopes below marked the passage of an Air Elemental. Further down, a veil of smoke rose into the night, illuminated by countless small wildfires consuming the dried-out spring growth along the eastern edge of the dune field. Even from their distance, Florine could see the swarms of Cinder Elementals birthed by the process and encouraging its continued propagation.

“It’s happening,” the rock beside her foot said.

Over one particularly prodigious blaze, the cloud of Cinder Elementals coalesced and flared into a single bright point of fiery light. The rocks around Florine cried out.

“Ooooh!”

“We are blessed!”

“Praise be to Ixiblat!”

The light dimmed slightly, stabilising to reveal a newborn Fire Elemental. Cheers rose as it resumed the task of the Cinder Elementals with voracious vigour, praising the elements and Ixiblat. Not long after the Fire Elemental set a small stand of saplings ablaze, however, a patch of dirt rolled over and gave it a whack. The voices of the rocks grew to a fevered pitch as the Fire Elemental clashed with the newly-arrived Earth Elemental in a bout of primal fury.

Isoroku’s pen ceased its scrawling.

“If Elementals are to be considered citizens of the Sorcerous Kingdom,” it said, “should we not move to put an end to this violence?”

The cheering suddenly stopped. All around them, the rocks shifted as if to regard the Elder Lich. The awkward silence continued as Florine’s mind worked to come up with a suitable answer.

But what was suitable? The longer she worked in the Abelion Hills, the more she realised how different it was from the society she had been brought up to function in. Perhaps the closest thing to an education in the elements came from her religious studies, but that education had little to no bearing on the practices of the Demihuman tribes.

Broadly speaking, the Faith of the Four Elemental Gods was a religion tailored to Human society and thus framed things in ways that could be understood by that society. Its mandates were more often than not delivered through allegory and the elemental aspects of the faith were delivered through symbolism and metaphor which were in turn applied to daily life. To a Human congregation existing in an exclusively Human society, everything made sense and no one questioned the teachings of the Temples. It was simply the truth and everyone knew it.

The relationship between Earth and Fire is...

It didn’t work. Nothing she could think of worked. What the Demihuman tribes venerated were the primal forces of nature. The Faith of the Four had no relevance to them and the teachings of the faith did nothing for the present situation. Those teachings were all about how the elements factored into Human society in a countless variety of small ways and she understood now that it was a faith that still put Humans on top of everything.

Humans worshipped the Four Elemental Gods and, through that worship, they attempted to influence the elements, praying for rain, fertile harvests, calm weather, and anything else that might help with their lives. For all of its efforts to distance itself from the Faith of the Six, the Faith of the Four still probably seemed no different from an outsider’s perspective. Nothing related to the Faith of the Four’s interpretation of the elements would make any sense whatsoever to the tribes of the Abelion Hills.

More importantly, the Elementals themselves wouldn’t care a whit about what the Faith of the Four had to say about them.

Florine looked down at the rock near her foot. The rock was in reality the dorsal fin of a Rhaast: a member of a race of Shark Demihumans that inhabited the sands of what locals called the ‘Creeping Dunes’.

“Could you explain the relationship between the Elementals here?” She asked.

“...I do not know what you are asking,” the Rhaast, a male who went by the name ‘Dry Bubble’, said. “It is what it is. The elements are always thus, and so shall they will always be.”

What does that even mean?

“The administration still needs information to act upon,” Florine said. “Laws need to be established for the government to function smoothly.”

“But there are already laws,” Dry Bubble replied. “Elementals do not stop being elementals simply because you say they are not. Fire burns. Water flows.”

“That may be true, but we are also charged with the realm’s security. We need to know at what point intervention is required. What if these fires erupt everywhere and Elementals pop up to burn everything?”

“That would not happen,” Dry Bubble told her. “The Earth Elementals bury them before they get very far. Ixiblat has always been this way.”

“What exactly is ‘Ixiblat’?”

“The cycle of cinders. The sowing of glass. Without Ixiblat, our people, as well as all others who depend on it, would perish.”

“Why is that?”

“We are creatures of the sun and of the land. Fire and Earth.”

That was a bit poetic-sounding. Hmm...poetic?

Now that she thought about it, nearly all of the residents of the Abelion Hills that she had met so far spoke the same way. The only exceptions were some of the Zern, like King Beebeezee who had interacted extensively with Humans before, and the Dark Dwarves, who weren’t a part of the same societal sphere.

Florine was so focused on producing something workable for the Sorcerous Kingdom that she had perhaps leaned too far in favour of the way that the administration perceived and rationalised things. Which was to say very literal and simplistic, especially when one considered how complex the world could be.

In contrast, considering how pervasive the patterns of translation appeared to be between all of the different races she had spoken with so far, it grew increasingly likely that she was missing something that everyone else either heard or intrinsically understood. When culture and language combined, a surprising amount of information could be contained within what might otherwise be perceived as a simple phrase through the way that the world translated speech. To make things worse, arrogant individuals were quick to assume that the person attempting to communicate with them was unsophisticated, stupid, or both.

“With what fruit does Ixiblat bless the land?” Florine asked.

But what would a life without that societal framework be like? She supposed that the Human countries in the E-Rantel region were, in a way, the answer.

The history that she was brought up learning asserted that the Human countries in the region were the result of a slow process in which the Human race was driven to the far reaches of the world by its Demihuman and Heteromorphic rivals. They finally ended up where they were because the other races considered plains the least-desirable habitat. This led to the saying ‘Humans live in the plains’, which was considered common sense in the region.

Of course, as a Merchant who knew many people who had travelled beyond the Great Steppe, Florine knew that Humans existed elsewhere in the world and could live side by side with their so-called ‘rivals’. One didn’t even have to go that far: the City State Alliance was right next to the Baharuth Empire and hosted dozens of different species that existed as part of the same society.

What could instead be asserted was that monoracial Human states might not exist outside of the E-Rantel region. The reason why they did exist in their little corner of the world was that it was a place where Humans could finally establish a civilisation that functioned purely on the rules of a Human society. A more cynical individual might say that Humans ran from reality until they found someplace where they could create their own without interference.

Speaking of interference...

“We’ll need to develop enhanced security measures for the Creeping Dunes,” Florine said.

“For what purpose?” Isoroku asked.

“Not to stop the Elementals, of course,” Florine answered. “The annual cycle of elements here produces an essential resource for the inhabitants of the Creeping Dunes. It didn’t need protection before now because no one knows how valuable the results of that process are. If even the smallest whisper of what’s here gets out, people will come to investigate.”

Rumour of being able to simply pick up an entire lifetime’s worth of wealth off of the ground was bound to draw interest. Florine had always dismissed tales of people finding untapped wealth under the noses of ignorant or ‘savage’ tribes, but she had always dismissed them as flights of fancy. It turned out that there might be some truth to those tales, but, now, she could only consider how much damage they could cause.

“Also,” Florine said, “this may represent an opportunity for the Sorcerous Kingdom, economically speaking. If trustworthy experts could study and figure out how the process behind the formation of Elemental Glass works, we would be able to produce a resource not found anywhere else in the region.”

Additionally, the administration would need to consider what would happen when the Creeping Dunes started to leave the Abelion Wilderness. The laws of Re-Estize had no provisions for territories that moved around, so neither did the Sorcerous Kingdom. Fortunately, that was a concern for the distant future.

The distant future, huh.

If the Creeping Sands continued moving at the claimed rate, it would take ten thousand years for it to reach the border. It was not a problem that a Human would ever consider, but, for her...

Florine’s hand absently went to the Infinite Haversack on her right hip. If she ever figured out how to make the strange box that Lady Shalltear gave her work, then that distant future would still be within her lifetime. Grasping that future was still beyond her, but she still pondered what it might be like from time to time. The exercise only left her feeling the unfathomable weight that eternity might represent.

The idea of immortality was not foreign to the Human imagination. There were more than a few stories that revolved around those who had obtained it. Generally speaking, they tended to focus on one thing: freedom. Freedom from age and infirmity; the freedom of unlimited time. If one was immortal, one could supposedly go anywhere and achieve anything. Of course, some ‘downsides’ were presented, such as having to watch one’s friends and family grow old and pass away, but, for the most part, immortality was portrayed as a relatively carefree affair with a mountain of attractive perks.

When Florine thought about it, however, all she could think of was her work. There was something to be said for being able to see through efforts that might take lifetimes to realise, but this also meant that she would also be made to witness the results of whatever screwups she made. She could decide to pursue a policy that seemed like a good idea, and then discover how much of a disaster it was two centuries later.

With this in mind, she thought she could understand why the Royal Court behaved the way that it did. There was a drastic difference between how quickly it processed enacted legislation and how long it deliberated over new legislation. By and large, they had a very passive approach to things by Human standards, prioritising the collection of information as the different facets of society went about their daily business.

This, in turn, felt like it put most of the pressure on the ‘middle management’ of the realm, namely the Nobles, Guildmasters, and other local leaders of the Sorcerous Kingdom. It was harrowing at first when no one knew what might happen if what they did resulted in a less-than-ideal outcome or was an outright failure, but time showed them the nuances of their new Royal Court.

Everything was ‘data’ that could be analysed to optimise governance. Failure was not punished simply because it had occurred, but judged according to a sliding scale of severity and expectation. In short, what mattered was that no laws were broken, resources were used appropriately, and useful data was generated. This, in turn, was planting the seeds of a culture where people were encouraged to experiment, weren’t afraid of failure, and were expected to hold themselves accountable for their actions.

According to Lady Shalltear, it was a policy put forth by the Sorcerer King himself, refined and codified by the Royal Court to be applied to the Sorcerous Kingdom. Strangely, the Royal Court seemed to have a harder time embracing that policy than the rest of the country and they were still very much averse to personal failure. People like Liane and Clara might have embraced the policy with too much energy, launching dozens of small initiatives in addition to the ones that they were most well-known for...or perhaps it was better to say that the initiatives that they were most well-known for were the ones that succeeded.

Failure, however, could not be tolerated in some situations. Florine’s task in the Abelion Wilderness was one of them. Thus, she decided to adopt the Royal Court’s cautious and thorough approach to domestic governance. Though her time working in the area so far was short, that approach had already helped her avoid several calamitous decisions that she otherwise might have made.

On the way back to the Dale of Defiance, they came across a curious sight. A pod of Monachini was half-swimming, half-flopping their way up the Abelion River in the early morning light. She had her entourage travel along the river to take a closer look. The Monachini quickly noticed her passage and came over to greet her.

“Florine Kadia Dale Gagnier,” a Monachini that she somehow managed to recognise as Urf-oru said. “It pleases us to see you.”

“Good morning, Elder,” Florine smiled. “What brings you to this part of the Abelion Hills?”

“The Barbed Urchin tribe has come to deliver its tribute,” Urf-oru said.

“...tribute?”

Urf-oru let out an odd-sounding bark.

“Indeed! The schools of fish begin to return. You have delivered on your promise. We have come to offer our gratitude...and our apologies for doubting your sincerity.”

Behind the Monachini Elder, she spotted four of the semi-aquatic Demihumans carrying a small chest between them. The chest itself appeared to be of Human make. Florine wasn’t sure she wanted to know how they had gotten their hands on it.

The Demihumans came forward, placing the chest at her feet and opening it to reveal a vibrant variety of corals, shells, and pearls.

“I don’t mean to sound rude,” Florine said, “but tribute is unnecessary. I am here to serve the people of the Abelion Hills, not to glean wealth from them.”

“But what you have done would have required a war to accomplish for our people,” Urf-oru protested. “It must have cost you much. The Barbed Urchin Tribe is not a tribe of ingrates.”

Florine imagined that it had only taken a notification that the actions of Roble and its allies were in violation of the spirit of the treaties between their two countries. Lady Albedo didn’t fly over and threaten to whack Prince Caspond with her sceptre...probably.

Additionally, between the case with the Merfolk and their reaction to Boobeebee, it made Florine aware of one other thing. To the Monachini – as well as many of the tribes of the Abelion Wilderness – the cultivation of geopolitical power was a foreign concept. Every ‘political’ action that a tribe, clan, or petty kingdom took in the Abelion Wilderness was done directly through an exercise of martial might, and it was performed against their neighbours as a form of naturalistic competition against their closest rivals rather than one of nation building.

But how could she explain that? It wasn’t as if she could regurgitate a Noble’s education on the hapless Monachini standing on the riverbank.

Moreover, there was something far more important that she needed to establish, first.

“The Barbed Urchin Tribe you may be,” Florine said, “but you are also something else, now. You are citizens of the Sorcerous Kingdom. This is not the same as being subjected to a conqueror’s whims and being expected to pay tribute for every act of protection. As citizens, you are afforded the protection of His Majesty and encouraged to participate in the society we’re in the process of creating.”

That’s right. Before anything else, there must be trust.

A healthy society required trust for proper development. Not only trust in the government and its institutions, but also trust between its individual members. Trust opened doors and provided access to resources that otherwise could not be obtained. Creating a culture of trust encouraged productive cooperation and was far more effective at policing a country than any number of Death Knights.

And, if one considered things through the lens of eternity, trust meant that an immortal administration could enjoy support that transcended any adversity, change in policy, or even the wholesale change in systems brought about by the ebb and flow of aeons. It was yet another critical lesson learned from their time in the Draconic Kingdom.

Urf-oru exchanged a look with her fellows. Florine wondered what her words meant to them. At her shoulder, Isoroku cleared its throat.

“While tribute may not be necessary,” the Elder Lich said, “we would still like to analyse the materials brought before us.”

Florine smiled and rolled her eyes at Isoroku’s pragmatic request.

“We’ll pay for it, of course,” she said. “On that note, there are a few things I would like to discuss with you in the Dale of Defiance.”