BECMI Chapter 368 – To have Green and Magic
“The Shaden be not o’ Zanzyr. They don’t give a shite about its rules on wizards must rule, and they’ve no desire to watch a bunch o’ squealing humans and run their lives for them,” the Mick continued with his speech to the free men of southern Zanzyr.
“On the other hand, they not be wanting to put up with any fancy shenanigans and cunning stupidity from a lot o’ inspired fools who think messing with them is a great idea.
“So, they be willing to make a trade with you all. One I personally be believing ye should grab with both hands.
“Any here deal with Erendyl and be cheated? Caught in bad faith? Anyone?” he asked, raising his hand. Everyone looked around, but no hands were raised. “Also, everyone be knowing that Erendyl be having the finest farms and livestock and the like in these lands. Them elves, just too damn good at taking care of the land and be having magic useful for farming and ranching and all that agricultural stuff they harp on about.” His stare weighed down on them for a long moment, letting them think on his words, and fidget.
“Well?” he finally asked. “Do ye want it? The elven magic, used to make the land bloom? Fat pigs and cows and chickens? Orchards and vineyards? Decent roads, crossing the hills, not dirt paths? Farms with proper fences, yielding twice, thrice what they are doing now?”
Lips pursed thoughtfully, eyes darting to the elves, both of whom nodded slightly. As good as a promise.
“You’ll call it taxes, because the wizards up in Zanzyr City want it to be called taxes, and they want their cut. But what ye’ll be doing is paying the elves to improve the land, straighten out the rules ye’ve been living under and putting them to law, organizing who owns what to get rid of conflicts, and very, very importantly, not letting Iendyl or Fuireze set one o’ their absentee nobles and fill-in grave-robbers and animators of your ancestor’s bones atop ye, probably with more than a few of you serving them dead after they turn your kin into monsters or make them slaughter one another for their entertainment!”
He spit succinctly off to the side, the anger on his face cold and brutal. It cracked on the floor like a stone, making the nearest men jump.
“I’m a Kladelander, been one since I could hold me sword.” There was not the slightest hesitation or fear in his words, only cold pride at mention of the outlawed warrior’s organization. “I took down twenty-three necromancers in Caergard with me fellows, including the Prince itself, a lich who died nigh a hundred years ago and has been enslaving the living and dead ever since,” he went on coldly, killing intent rich with satisfaction in his eyes and voice making their blood run cold.
“Fuireze kidnaps your people, sets them in the gladiatorial pits, and turns some of you into monsters the others must fight. Or renders you down to test poisons on.” He looked over all of them darkly. “Iendyl claims to the winds and being above such shit, but they enslave minds, drive drought and storm alike on their enemies, and blast with lightning whoever they deem to be impertinent enough t’ speak their mind.
“Two laws there be there, two laws in Zanzyr! One for wizards, one for all else!” his voice rose, and the old anger in there brought up quick howls in answer from the folk. Not worth being equals because they weren’t wizards!
“There is one law in Sidhe lands.” The golden-haired Sidhe elf had risen, melodic voice singing through the shouts with startling ease. “One!” he repeated, looking over all of them. “And you know this!”
And they did. Erendyl’s lords did not draw a line between wizards and none, although they were fully aware the rest of Zanzyr did. Wizards were held as responsible as all others in Erendyl’s lands… if not in those of Colorajo, which was happy to take advantage of the situation, even if they didn’t press it overmuch, having too much respect for martial traditions otherwise.
The other elf, even paler of skin and white of hair, also rose to his feet. “There is only one level of law in Shaden lands, as well. If there is another here, it will be because you wish it to be so, and if we do not disapprove.”
There was hesitation from the crowd, someone shouted for him to speak on, and he did so with a gravity that was utterly unlike the more distant Sidhe. Far more… grounded and somber.
“Our Sidhe cousins in Erendyl have promised to share all they know of the methods of managing the land with us. They have stated that the land before they settled in Zanzyr was almost exactly what these hills are now.” His eyes lifted, looking beyond the tent with cold satisfaction. “Some of you have seen those lands of theirs. One day, yours will be like those.
“For your taxes and your fealty, we will do the following for you.
“Your lands will bloom. This will not happen overnight. It will not happen without pain, and you will definitely be angry at times.
“We don’t care to rule over you, but if your land is prosperous, then you will be happy, your taxes will be paid, and you will defend your lands… and thus you will be defending us.
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“We will thus sacrifice our time to be good neighbors.
“Your disputes are often centered on old clan and family holdings, your arguments settled by feud and blood. Those of you who have strong clans naturally dominate this system, those of you who are weak want something better.
“There will be one law, and strength of family isn’t going to impress us. We will be impartial judges, the kind many strong families hate the most, and we will be very, very fair… and very, very deadly when our fairness is ignored.”
The quiet hiss of his voice was like a sword being drawn… and he was wearing one, too, they all noticed keenly.
“Lastly, we will see that any and all of your children who can learn Wizardry will do so. There will be schools, there will be education, and there will be formal training in the skills you all have and need. This is not optional.” His pale eyes wandered over all of them, and then he turned to look at the Sidhe next to him, who simply shook his head.
“None of you here are eligible, but we will also sponsor those of your children who are to the Test of the Tree, and give them the chance to become Rangers.”
That attracted instant attention. Even those who had no ability for magic could become Rangers, there were too many stories being told otherwise of this!
Ranger Redleaf was well-known for his fiery hair and beard on the border here, and came to his feet at this time. He had grown in strength and skill with great speed, his magic was at least equal to that of a Wizard of Zanzyr, while his skill with bow and spear had not been left behind, either!
“You’re a hard and brutal folk in a hard land,” the Ranger said without the slightest trace of apology. “Rangers… are not hard and brutal people,” he huffed in some mockery at himself, earning some snorts. “We are defenders and protectors of our lands and people, not just our families. When I walk the border, I do it to protect everyone within, not just my friends and family, and I believe this in my heart.
“That’s the soul of a Ranger. It is not common, it is not easy, but it makes us what we are.
“Someone with that soul won’t be easy to find in the land as it is now. But a land under the elves? Learning to make it green? Working with your neighbor, instead of against him? Learning the lore of the land, the farm, the tree, the waters? Finally managing to make a good life for yourselves, instead of clawing what you need from the soil?
“Aye, your children might be Rangers born, and welcome they will be to our fold.”
And as he sat back down before the thoughtful crowd, the pale Shaden Lord Uskvos reiterated, “And any who can learn to use magic, will,” he stated with a steely voice. “Be it Wizard’s magic, Clerical prayers, Druidic meditations, or whatnot, we will give them ALL the chance to learn… a chance only the wealthiest among you have now,” the elf pointed out gravely. “I do not think I need to mention what having a family member capable of wielding magic can mean for the fortune of a family, a clan, even a tribe!
“You will not be in competition with us for such things. We will INSIST they be trained, if they can be.”
Wizards were automatically noble in the rest of Zanzyr, their futures bright and potentially unlimited. It was an incredibly tempting prospect for many of them!
“Fairly spoken,” the Mick’s voice interrupted him, and the Shaden sat back down calmly as the Caer took the stage again. “Ye’ve been lied to often enough, aye? Promises made, broken, and who gives shite what the bastards in Zanzyr City be saying?”
Heads in the crowd nodded all around at that, murmured voices of approval and confirmation of the unreliability of promises from wizards.
“This be a promise from Erendyl. Ye know the reputation of the Chamberlain of the Land. She gives her word rarely in Zanzyr, because they will turn it back on her, right enough.” It was his turn to glare at them. “She be willing to give her word here, on the best of intentions. I think she be a fool, and you’ll miss this chance and stomp on it like idiots, or ye’ll twist her words just like the bloody wizards in your fear and hate, and make a mockery o’ her goodwill.” His face was flat and unimpressed. “Then, then, the choice will be forced on you, and ye’ll get one of the corpse-licking bonemages, and then yer all well and truly fucked yourselves up in the bum, ye hate one another so much.”
The Mick crossed his arms and just glared at them as they flushed. “The Shaden Principality be coming. It will be enfeoffed afore the first snows. The scramble for wizards will come after that, and the spells will be flying, threats will be coming, hillmen will be dead in the snows, standing over the corpses of their own kin they were made to kill, and the beasts made out o’ them terrorizing those who don’t want to kneel.
“Then ye’ll kneel in fear and horror and I’ll laugh at yer choice, and your new masters will flit off to the city and leave ye to fend for yourselves against the orcs and goblins and beasts of the mountains. When ye die, they’ll turn your corpse into a zombie miner or soldier o’ bone, sure enough.
“So, what’s it going to be, free folk of the hills? Working with elves who’ll help you make your lands as green as you care to, or snickering bonemages who see you as walking corpses for them to command?” He spat again, it again cracked off the stone of the ground. “Fools to trust an elf and dream of a better future, or suicidal idiots to trust a random wannabe noble wizard shite of Zanzyr?”
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“Four Clerics in that crowd, trying to hide it,” the Mick grunted. “Smart not coming, me lassie,” he kissed his wife, who took it on the cheek with the grace of many years.
Overmagus Laurentine, the fourth such in Zanzyr, accepted his tribute with a smile.
“Elves and warriors convincing the locals, especially a wizard-killer. Far more sincere than another wizard present, and fearing they were all mind-bent, as happens far too often,” she said firmly. “Best I stay away.”
He just nodded along with her, pacing through the Mirror Portal from Innstop that dropped them in Transyvia.
Ahead of them rose the third and last Pyramid of Zanzyr, smack dab in the center of Transyvia, only ten miles from the ruin of the former Castle Bludevich and ready to be Consecrated today to the Priests of the Morning as a temple to the Morning, and a place to train Undead Hunters.
It was a very, very fitting thing, and an ending to the rule of a mighty vampire… who they still had yet to track down.
Soon enough, soon enough...