The masters made no move of any kind, respectful or otherwise, nor did they speak as the group approached. Three empty chairs of matching yellowish pine awaited them, and Cor’El watched as his father immediately took the middle, directly opposite the purple Loszian whom he assumed to be Than’Tok. Menak seated himself to his father’s right, and Keth deferred the open chair to Cor’El’s mother who nonchalantly leaned back in it to kick her boots up onto the table itself. Than’Tok winced, either at the disrespect for his furniture or he himself, while the black robed Loszian leered as he looked at her from head to toe. Thyss responded with a disgusted grimace, and Cor’El suddenly wanted to set the man’s robes on fire. As he, Keth and the rest of the Dahken filled in the space immediately behind his mother, father and Menak, he wondered what his father thought of the exchange.
“I am sorry, Lord Dahken, I assumed you would want to rest and clean up before we met,” the purple robed Than’Tok said with a slight wrinkle of his nose, and Cor’El wondered if it was the stench of horses, steel or just travel that offended the Loszian’s senses. The lord was largely unimpressive for a Loszian to Cor’El’s eye, for he looked little different from Menak or his two cohorts. He wondered how they could tell each other apart, but on the other hand, he often thought the same of Westerners.
“You assumed wrong,” Cor spoke plainly, almost forcefully. “I’m here to end this.”
Than’Tok looked back blankly and then to the Loszians at either side before replying, almost innocently, “End what, Lord Dahken?”
“You’ve taken slaves, thousands of them, I’ve heard. Slavery is not allowed in Aquis.”
“We’ve taken no one,” the black one argued. “They came to us willingly.”
“Regardless –”
“Many were sick or starving,” interjected red.
“We have saved them,” Than’Tok concluded.
Prior to that moment, Cor’El wasn’t certain that he had ever seen his father’s fury, though he had of course heard all the stories that were told of the great Dahken who had single handedly slain an emperor, dozens of Loszian sorcerers and even gods. That changed now as he caught a mere glimpse as his father’s mailed hand slammed onto the pine tabletop, causing a groan from the wood, leaving a permanent indention in it. Than’Tok adopted a pained look as his eyes rested on Cor’s fist, either for the damage to the table or the realization that he truly did not want a confrontation with a man he could not possibly defeat.
“Shut up,” Cor snapped, though it was unnecessary for the three had done so immediately. He took a breath before continuing, “Regardless of how you explain it, you have thousands of Westerners in your service, in your fields. You have overseers watching with swords and whips, and are you going to dare to convince me that these volunteers haven’t felt the sting of those? Slavery is illegal in Aquis and the West. It ends here, now.”
Silence reigned for a moment, the breath of the assembled only slightly audible, as Cor’El’s father simply stared down the Loszians, begging them to challenge his authority or strength. Frankly, Cor’El already felt his interest in the confrontation wan, for in the end, he knew that his father would enforce the will of King Rederick whether these Loszian masters agreed or not. It occurred to him that it may just be easier, certainly quicker, if Cor would just kill them now and get it over with.
“As you will, Lord Dahken, but you condemn thousands to death,” Than’Tok replied softly, without a hint of challenge. “You Westerners,” he continued with a pointed look at Menak, “sit on the other side of the Spine with no understanding of the chaos you’ve caused here in the east. The destruction of the empire may have been a great triumph for Garod and your views of morality, but the fact is, the Loszian Empire worked. There was no starvation or famine, no plague, no homeless armies of people scouring the countryside in search of a few scraps of food. We may have visited evils upon your people, but at least they lived. You sit in your castles and towers unknowing and uncaring of the problems you’ve created. I can see the guilt upon your face, Lord Dahken, that all of this comes as a shock to you.
“I will do as commanded, for what other choice do I possibly have lest I warrant my own death? But know that you condemn thousands to an even worse life than what my slavery provides, and if you doubt my words, interview any of those Westerners in the fields below. Ask them what they prefer, how they would rather live, and then you must live with the consequences of your own actions.”
Silence again permeated air around the table as none spoke, those around it simply staring back at one another. Cor’El watched as his father leaned in close to Menak, whispering something that he could not hear, and after a few seconds, the Loszian gave an equally inaudible reply. Cor pushed his chair backward slightly as he stood somewhat hesitantly, as if the Loszian’s words full of their own self-righteousness caused his father some imbalance, and Cor leaned forward, placing his hands and weight on the tabletop as if to further reinforce his stance.
“I will speak to King Rederick about this,” he said to the Loszians. “We will meet here again after sunrise tomorrow. In the meantime, call off your overseers. They are no longer needed.”
Cor’El couldn’t stop it. His face broke into a wide smile when he realized that his father had concluded this meeting, leading the way out the door and down the stairs to their accommodations. He only hoped that they were more comfortable than the meager ones Menak had provided for them; hopefully, they were something more akin to what he enjoyed back home.
Cor
The evening after meeting the Loszians found Cor pacing the entire floor of the tower that they had been given for their stay, however long it may be. The problem gnawed at him, for never had he been in such a position. If what the Loszians said was in fact true, doing the right thing by all of the laws of morality might actually be the wrong thing for these people. It seemed that thousands of years of slavery had bred and beaten all desires of freedom from the people of East Aquis. Perhaps they had jumped at freedom in the beginning, when the war had ended at Bloody Gorge, but generations of suffering at the hands of necromantic masters who gave them all of the necessities for life left these Westerners with no ideas of how to live.
He did what was recommended to him. He descended the tower’s steps and exited into the town (such as it was) below to find the workers returning from the fields as the sun began to drop below the horizon. Overseers still stood and watched or led the Westerners back to their homes, but Cor was at least gratified to see that their whips and blades were already absent. He accepted that one, small victory as if it were the greatest battle he’d yet fought.
He selected a person at random, a woman perhaps a bit younger than he, although his Dahken blood made her appear older. She wore little more than filthy rags, had no shoes and grime encrusted her face and hair. She may have been comely, were it not for her current place in life. “Lady, may I speak with you?” he called, causing the procession to stop as the Westerners worked to divine to whom he spoke.
Cor realized quite suddenly that he had never taken off his helm, not once since reaching this place, even having worn it through meeting the Loszians. That was all well and good, honestly, for it likely made for a more imposing Lord Dahken Cor Pelson, especially with his warriors arrayed behind him, but in this particular instance, it caused more fear than was necessary, which would only stand in the way of his goal. He lifted it off, revealing the gray skin on his face that matched his exposed arms, and somehow, the effect seemed not to benefit him at all. They continued to watch him warily, as realization worked through them like a cresting wave that he had spoken to a particular woman.
She paused reluctantly, and a nearby black armored guard moved toward her, shouting, “He spoke to you, bitch! Come here.”
Cor leapt forward, Soulmourn drawn before he knew what he was doing, and he blocked the guard’s path toward the astonished slaves, the blade of his sword neatly resting on the man’s throat.
“I do not n
eed your assistance,” Cor explained, his voice as sharp as his sword, “and let me tell you something else. If you or any of your people ever speak to these people in such a way again, I will personally take you apart limb by limb.”
“Y-yes, my lord,” the guard stuttered as he began to back away from the blade’s thirsty edge.
Cor turned back to face the Westerners who had parted away from the woman he had selected, as if just being near her would somehow draw his ire upon themselves. He sheathed Soulmourn and began to approach her, beaming what he hoped was a friendly smile, but it simply didn’t seem to have the desired effect. She seemed to want to shrink away from him, as if she could melt away into the crowd.
“Please, don’t be afraid,” he said, “I just want to talk with you.”
The woman noticeably relaxed just a bit with the understanding that he was neither angry with her, nor desired her for other purposes. The lot of this life, a life the likes of which Cor hadn’t seen firsthand in over a decade, began to really set into his mind. He began to understand it fully as each quick motion caused a flinch, every spoken word fear.
“Please come here,” Cor said softly.
He proceeded to talk to her, ask her questions about her life. Her name was Dellia, and she was slow to answer him, fearful that the wrong answer would bring his wrath upon her. The sun continued to shrink into the horizon, casting long shadows and gloam across the grimy village, as her answers came more easily and honestly. Cor had hoped mightily to find out that Than’Tok had lied to them, that these people were here against their wills, for that would have made his next actions so simple. But it was not to be.
Dellia told him of being born into slavery some thirty years past and the harsh evils visited upon her family by a Loszian master now dead at his own emperor’s hands. She spoke of the great celebration at the freedom brought by Aquis’ armies, followed by the listlessness of such an existence. Everyone was free, but free to do what? They spent years trying to eke out their livelihood, first by farming free land, then by offering themselves as laborers. Dellia had even spent some time as a whore, which had actually been her most profitable venture. In the end, she and a number of other former slaves turned to simply walking the lands of East Aquis, surviving on whatever they could find as they went, something made exceedingly more difficult by the fact that most of what they found was owned by someone else already.
And then Dellia explained that they had simply happened upon Than’Tok’s lands with its fallow fields and decaying village. They outright begged the Loszian to take them in, to give them shelter. After a day, they begged for food, and when he had none to spare, they begged to work for him. She explained that about a hundred of them literally asked him to enslave them again, to tell them where to go to do what and when, and somehow, this life was preferable to the one of freedom that they had until recently been enjoying, especially since Than’Tok was not on overly harsh master.
Cor spoke to two other Westerners, one a recent arrival, and received essentially the same story. Frustrated he went back into the tower. So he stalked around the room’s curvature and across its diameter many times as he went round and round with the paradox. Cor’El, Keth and the other Dahken eyed him quietly, though they said nothing to him as they sat and laid about mountains of cushions and giant pillows hastily thrown into the room to serve as furniture. Thyss completely ignored him, having seen him in similar states in years past.
He was actually glad for the lack of interruption, for he would more than likely outright dismiss any offered solution as either impractical or against the king’s law. He continued even as lavish platters of food – goat, pork, beef and vegetables of various kinds – were brought to them, and his entourage hesitantly gorged themselves once it became clear that he had no intention of joining them.
The sickly delightful cloud of grease and cooking fires still hung in the air when Thyss finally announced that she was going to bed and assigned their son a place to sleep among the dozen or so beds around the floor’s periphery. Cor finally ceased his infernal journey to nowhere long enough to sit and pick at the leftovers as servants began to clear them away. Keth had assigned sleeping arrangements to various Dahken, as well as a night watch order just in the off chance that Than’Tok was stupid enough to try something while they slept, and they began to filter their different directions.
It was about three hours later when a solution struck him, and it felt as if every one of his nerves burned with the fires of discovery. Cor shot straight up in bed, suddenly sitting erect and causing Thyss to open one eye, snarl in disgust and turn over to find sleep while facing away from him. It wasn’t like he had been asleep anyway, as he lay there staring at the ceiling as the long, quiet minutes passed by with the only sounds those of the Dahken guard changing every hour, but at least he had been still. One who disturbed Thyss in her sleep enjoyed a life full of risk.
The next morning, he cornered Menak early, within minutes of the Loszian’s rising. Despite the alien appearance that Cor had never quite gotten used to, Menak looked no different from anyone else who awakened from a night’s slumber. His mind seemed slower than usual as he wiped the sleep from his eyes. Cor hadn’t slept all night, at least he felt like he had not, and he had no patience as he waited for the Loszian’s mind to clear.
“Is either Lord Karak or Naran currently in Aquis?” he asked.
“Ahhhhmmmm,” Menak intoned as he searched his memory and rubbed at his eyes again, “Those two are finding it more difficult than expected to manage their affairs here and in Tigol.”
“I would think after ten years, they would have figured that out.”
“Regardless,” Menak’s eyes flashed momentarily at the interruption of his sluggish thoughts, “I believe Naran has returned across the Narrow Sea, but Karak is at his castle.”
“Do you have any way to contact him?”
“No, something I am sure you will view as an oversight.”
“I would think that, with you being the only person on the Council capable of wielding such a magick, it would be valuable if you had the ability to speak with everyone.”
“You are probably right,” Menak conceded, his practiced calm in full effect. “What did you have in mind?”
“I think I have a way to resolve this. I need Keth.”
* * *
Cor occupied his time, as well as that of his people’s by involving themselves in the lives of those below. They started by removing their armor and working to clean the streets and alleys between the houses and other buildings. As they saw significant improvement in that endeavor, Cor shifted some of his Dahken to work on improving the homes – making minor repairs and such as they were able. Little more than children, just young adults, they had no real knowledge of carpentry or other such trades, but the Westerners around Than’Tok lived in such poor conditions that any improvement was something.
Meanwhile, Keth rode hard for Lord Karak’s castle, hoping terribly that Menak was correct in that the Tigolean lord hadn’t left Aquis on some business venture in Tigol. As a Counselor to the king, Keth had full access to whatever resources he needed, and venturing alone, he would make quick work of the miles, trading out his horse whenever possible. Keth had argued the point of leaving the Dahken behind, suggesting that they could send Marya or even Hun, but even he couldn’t argue that his position in the council would allow no one to refuse him. It also would help drive home the gravity of the situation to Karak.
Truthfully, Cor wanted to go himself, but that would mean bringing along Thyss and Cor’El, which would only have slowed him down. It was simple logistics – the more people you send on any mission, trek or journey, the longer it would take as it simply requires more time to get more people up, moving and fed if nothing else, and one can only move as fast as the slowest. Hence, a lone man can cover in hours the miles it takes an army to travel in a day, and one man can walk, or even ride with a supply of fresh horses, for well over two thirds of a day if necessary.
And it was hard enough for Cor to get his son to put in more than an hour’s worth of honest work, and Thyss was of no help in such an endeavor, for hard labor was never of interest to the sorceress.
He met with the Loszians every morning, just briefly, to both reinforce that he had a solution and to let them know out of courtesy what new project he and his Dahken would undertake that day. To Joru’us and Routan he said, “Take note. What you see here, so shall it be in your lands.” To his gratification, they actually took his words for truth, sending their own servants to observe the Dahken work, and Than’Tok’s overseers no longer wore weapons or even armor of any kind. Some even assisted Cor.
After three weeks plus a day or two of Cor looking to the south for the sun’s glint off of Keth’s black armor, he was finally rewarded on a cool autumn morning. As he hoped, there were in fact two riders approaching, the second of which apparently wore no steel as there was no flash of light from steel momentarily catching the sun’s rays. Cor almost casually strolled out to meet them over a half mile away from the tower, to find Keth in the company of a Tigolean, clean shaven of both face and head. The pair dismounted as he neared, the yellow man apparently shrinking to nearly a foot shorter than Cor.
“Lord Dahken, this is Shuan, one of Lord Karak’s most trusted advisors,” said Keth.
Shuan bowed quickly and precisely, averting his eyes from Cor’s face as he did so. “I serve as I am able. I am but a simple bookkeeper, gifted by the gods with an innate understanding of business.”
He spoke Westerner better, and with less accent, than some of the persons who grew up with the language. With Shaun’s crispness of speech, he had only a slight accent common to most Tigoleans, though for most Tigoleans it was substantially more pronounced, making some sounds inaudible while extraordinarily exaggerating others.
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