Chapter 16

The Flame of Ambition and Inconvenient Intolerances

15th of Spring's Dawn, 12534

The Silver Wilds

Tanya's Retreat

The inevitable had come to the village's doorstep.

Urie thought it strange that nobody bothered to name the village yet. Obviously, Tanya hadn't expressed any care for it, and so Urie didn't care to think about names either. Still, that meant the next group of refugees that were desperate enough to be sent on a wild chicken chase into the worst parts of the Wilds arrived at the nameless village. Naturally, the walled off section of land was still plenty to fit more housing, but now people were starting to consider what they should do now.

In total, the population rose from a little more than fifty (sixty after the sailors arrived, though how long they'll stay is debatable) to well over a hundred souls. A little under twenty of them were Illagers, though three of the refugee's escort and one of the previous escort left to report back to Lord Mistal. Naturally, he began to prepare suggestions for Tanya to temporarily integrate them into the village's defenses, either freeing up the less willing Villagers for other tasks, or bulking up the guard against an attack from Borst or Embelor.

It was… strange how quickly he started to act on this. The very moment Tanya decided to welcome the extra refugees in, his mind started to work on solutions to issues and give them to Tanya. Infact, though he hadn't truly realized it before the Kikavan refugees came, something changed in his mind. Tanya never commented on it, but Istarte and Ishta have, being the two who knew him best. Djon, one of the few friends he actually managed to make in the Illager mansions, pointed out some strange parts about him too, comparing him to a tool that was languishing without being used.

But when things started to change rapidly like this? He felt different. Motivated. Finally able to get out of the cabin for more than whatever Tanya needs him to do now and then… and whenever Istarte wanted a 'change of scenery'. Which led him to the study of Tanya's home, proposals in hand after a full day of work.

It didn't feel like enough thought was done just yet, but it felt urgent to get something to her as soon as possible while she worked on other plans. So, it was enough to knock and figure out the rest from what he's already done so far.

His knock was answered by a muffled "come in," and once inside he took in the scene that, frankly, had gone on ridiculously long lately.

Tanya was still working on that journal from the underground city, or on whatever project she was drawing up lately, while Ishta was bored out of her mind. There was something going on there, but Urie wasn't very aware of it. Maybe he should ask Istarte about them…

"Yes, Urie? What is it?" Tanya asked, glancing up for a second before returning to her work.

"I had some suggestions for the village's defenses now that the refugees arrived in larger numbers. Here, I wrote down the two main ones I had in mind." He said, handing over the two documents. On instinct, he put his hands behind his back and straightened himself. …what instinct?

Silently, she read through them, keeping a blank expression on at all times. Urie suddenly became aware of the sweat on his brow as his anxiety-

"While these proposals aren't terrible, especially considering your inexperience," she began, putting an uncharacteristic amount of bite in that last bit, "they aren't considering the reasonable middle road. The first one would be reasonable, however simply shoving the already trained villagers out of the defenses and relying on the Illagers- which will politically give them massive sway over the Villagers and, well, I'm sure I don't need to tell you what would happen next." Urie blanched at that; he really should've considered that…

"As for the other, it does make sense to prepare a heavier guard, however we should consider a few other factors. Some of the Villagers will want to cease guard duties, as they are not professional soldiers and are simply a militia. Additionally, while our Illagers are still technically under the Confederation, we are in neutral territory, and completely unimportant in a strategic and tactical sense. In that way, we are protected by being too insignificant to matter."

She stopped for a moment to hand back the papers and take a drink of milk. Urie stared at the papers, his brain already coming to a conclusion.

"So the answer would be something close to the second one, but in the middle? Let some of the defenders stand down, but keep them trained and ready?" He asked.

"Of course! That's how a damned militia works, Urie!" Tanya barked. "We can put it into place, starting drawing up a plan for that. Go consult with Brenn and the villagers in the defense about setting that up." Urie nodded once she finished, stiffly throwing his hand up his brow before leaving. Once he was out of the room, he thought about the next steps, while questions rose in his mind.

Why am I listening to her so readily?

What was that motion I made?

It doesn't matter.

He cleared his mind of the questions for the moment. The hows and whys of his actions can be debated later, not now. With a new determination in his step, Urie begins to plan even more groundwork that must be done.

A good employee is what he is, after all.

30th of Spring's Dawn, 12534

Maldenhogen Palace, Kingdom of the Daneland

The King grieved.

A cup of mead- the Pollenian luxury that now feels like a cruel joke after the recent events- was his only company for the time being. He sat on his throne, empty and dark save for moonlight and a few torches, overlooking a grand map of the Northwest splayed out in front of him, stretching from one end of the hall to another and covered with glass to walk on. He remembers it was gifted to him by his brother, the King of Brodenburg.

His brother, who stood by his side in the conquest of Hokkland.

His brother, who always ensured his family was welcome in the Gervanian Kingdom.

His brother, who was slain a few days prior, and his great kingdom scattered.

A tug at his wrist pulled him from his misery momentarily, his eyes glancing down at the little form at his side. His youngest daughter, not even five years old yet, looked up at him. Normally, he would've smiled at seeing her bright green eyes, yet no joy rose from the King.

"What's wrong, papa? Why are you sad?"

He couldn't tell her. Not yet, at least. How would he even explain it? The full story would be too much, but even telling her that her favorite cousins are gone already makes him dreadful. How does one even soften the idea of an entire Kingdom falling to the Teuonic Order for a child to understand?

He set a firm hand on her head, putting on a false smile so then she wouldn't worry too much.

"Something happened that your Papa will have to deal with, sweetie. Go to your mother tonight. I'll tell you later." He said, keeping the trembling out of his voice.

She eventually listened, leaving him on the throne. His eyes stared down at the map, drawn by the finest Swistrian cartographer in Anciart, containing his realm and the neighboring ones. It was outdated of course, Haalund is still on the map, and some of the Northern realms still held land that was now occupied by the undead Kingdom of Astraya, but it was mostly accurate for the time being.

He'll have to make deals with the Gervanian states and the Commonwealth in order to keep Brodenburg from being torn apart in the chaos. The Commonwealth should be easy enough, the Sejm should be tearing itself to shreds over their failure to contain the Teuons in their last holdouts and convincing them to keep off of Brodenburg may be the second easiest thing to do.

The peasant republic of Soxan and the Kingdom of Cehemia were already close allies of Brodenburg, so convincing them to support a zero-partition treaty would be trivial. The real problem lies in the Rin states and Tesse to the west. They'll be the real trouble.

He poured another round of mead into his cup, trying not to think about how the new banditry that has taken hold in Brodenburg would put more strain on trade with the Commonwealth. Instead, he thought about something else that concerned him. The matter of what the Order is doing now.

They utterly sacked the Kingdom, that much is known. Taking as much as they can, burning much of it, slaughtering hundreds… but what are they doing next? The ports were some of the last cities to fall to the Order, and supposedly some of the cities are vacant of the Teuons, so what are their objectives now-

Wait.

The King stood up, pacing over to the sea between his lands and Brodenburg, goblet still in hand. He stared at the last cities reportedly hit. Lowbeak. Redstick. Stralsound. Kilburg. All port cities. All with a large number of ships, both mercantile and of Brodenburg's impressive, yet eternally port-bound warships.

Did they burn them, or did they take them? If so, where would they go? East is too dangerous, the Northern kingdoms have an axe or sword behind every damn spruce tree, and in order to get out west they'd have to pass through his seas. The glint of an orange light glancing off his cup distracted the King. The torches must be- Wait, no, the torches are on the other end of the room, this should be moonlight. Unless… Unless!-

Unless they're already here!

The Danelander King, to his horror, looked out of the grand window and out to the port nearby.

A grand port which serves as a trading hub for the entire Northwest, and where the Grand Danelander Armada sits. The seat of the Kingdom's dominance.

In flames.

He rushed to the window, dropping his cup on the way there and spilling mead onto the glass and wood floor. There were ships, the very same Brodenburgian ships he once sailed beside, barraging his navy and the trade vessels of many nations with flaming arrows and Evoker creations. The Teuons weren't taking and pillaging Brodenburg. No, that would've been silly.

The Teuonic Order stole the navy of Brodenburg and are now free to ravage the Northern Seas. He could only despair as he watched ship after ship try to escape, only to be caught, boarded, and either stolen or scuttled. He watched the Arlainoiz merchants, bastards their kingdom may be, make a valiant attempt to pierce the fresh blockade, but to no-

…Why were they let through?

The Black-Eyed King's merchants, which would have certainly had riches far beyond any other nation, just sailed through unharmed. Soon after, the Order too left, sailing out to open seas.

His stomach sank as realization set in.

Of course, the old Illager order of the bygone millennia would ally with that tyrant! How much did that man put into allowing this?! I…

…No. The Brother has forsaken us today. We can rebuild, but we won't have our dominance any longer. It took centuries to build that fleet. It'd take a miracle for Brodenburg to recover though.

His despair only grew a few weeks later when news of the Hokkland March's fall to the Order reached his court. With the Brother seemingly forsaking him at the moment, his prayers turned to the Sister, to pray for the people of Hokkland and his Kingdoms.

21st of Cloudsmarch

Tanya's Retreat, The Silver Wilds

I sipped at the glass of milk in my hands once I finished the last of the blueprint ideas for a boat to sail away on. The day I finally get coffee again is the day I ditch this drink. It's a miracle milk comes out of cows here pre-pasteurized… somehow.

When Urie started helping with organizing the village, I honestly hadn't expected much. I've been rather dismissive since whatever illness that's been plaguing me came back. For a time I was actually worried that Being X had stopped by and decided to curse me with a messiah due to how similar the symptoms I've been having were to pregnancy, but I showed no other signs and, with what little medical magic I knew of, felt nothing there.

What was most confusing was the effect milk was having… or rather, should be having. For whatever reason, likely the same as the pre-pasteurization of the milk in this world, milk can cure what afflictions this world has. Very little in the way of plagues really exist here, aside from the undead, but milk can clear poisons and brews designed to weaken or harm others, so I've been drinking it ever since I was first wounded, at first off and on, but now regularly in order to combat the nausea and cramps of the affliction.

Was my arm still healing after all this time? Was it some sort of Ancient-only sickness I caught in the underground city? Was it five years of blissful bleeding-free life catching up in one shitstorm of a cycle? Or was there some other variable I wasn't accounting for. I decided it wasn't important as I idly sipped the glass of milk. Whatever it was, the milk wasn't working and my temper had been frayed the past few months because of it.

But that was a minor issue at the moment. Right now, Urie was continuing his help in organizing the village, having already set up a town guard with the Illagers as the main body of the guard and a decently prepared Villager militia. After he did that, he helped form a village council in order to deal with the very real possibility of more refugee waves and the Villager-Illager divides, something I eagerly allowed him to sign off on.

Putting myself in his place would have worked fine, but by supporting his efforts, and with Urie already being familiar with both sides of the split peoples he was able to organize the varying groups into a handful of delegates. Of course, while I would've been fine with a simple council seat as the nominal landlord, Urie placed special attention on me due to my third-party status on the internal divides, making me the Council Moderator, essentially a pseudo-executive position in this… oh fuck, this isn't what I think it is, right? A council, led by delegates elected by groups of the people, barely has any form of an economy, mostly held together by common trust- This is totally a primitive form of an Anarchist Soviet, isn't it?! Dammit!

That horrific realization was pushed away when I felt a hand on my shoulder.

"Are you alright, Tanya?" said the voice of Ishta behind me. While she hadn't always been here in the study, she often came in to read one of the books I hadn't checked or translated yet. Though now she read it with a lot more color in her face because I finally came around to checking it… only to find that it was Ancient-era erotica. I can only imagine what she's been reading in that, and I do not want to consider the possibility of this stash of books being entirely owned by him.

…maybe I'll take a look later.

"I'm fine, just a little ill still," I replied, taking another sip of the milk. While her help was appreciated when the pain and more extreme symptoms like vomiting showed up, which the milk still didn't seem to help with. Maybe it wasn't effective for me as a supposed Ancient? No, I've definitely seen references to milk being used the same way for the Ancients, and even their ridiculous portion sizes haven't helped.

I mean, come on, an entire bucket of milk?! I almost suffocated trying to drink it all, and it got worse!

She sighed, taking a moment to move her chair over to my left. I reflexively moved my arm away when she tried to grab it, earning a look from her.

"I want to see something, Tanya. I've been having a sneaking suspicion, and while I can't perform this use of magicka easily, I need to atleast try it. So, please," Then, with pleading eyes, she stared directly at me, "let me take care of you."

Where have I seen eyes like these before?

In the end, I caved to the medical expert in the room and let her work her magic. She took my wrist and began to focus, creating a soft glow from her hand.

"Drink."

I complied, deciding that it was best to follow what were essentially doctor's orders. I stopped once the glass was dry, and saw Ishta's confused face staring into me.

"I… don't get it. I've never seen a body react to milk like this. Usually it should purify any illness, but from what I'm seeing…" she paused, trying to find the right words presumably. I wondered what it was she was actually seeing in the brief moment of the pause. "...It's like the milk itself is causing the illness."

…Seriously? Lactose intolerance? That can't possibly explain anything. Hell, even before I came here I've had it, if sparingly. Sure, the orphanage never really had it, but this kind of reaction never came when I did have milk. It wouldn't make sense, really.

"Can't be. These are the same issues I had when I was recovering from losing my arm early on. And besides, I've had it before I came here." Actually, thinking back, it wasn't that long ago that I had to drink it when I was almost fifteen and had to recover in a rear line hospital from the last encounter with that berserker, Mary something. I would've gotten out earlier if I hadn't-

…hadn't gotten ill in much the same way as am I now.

"...Tanya?"

Shit. Am I actually lactose intolerant? Did Being X go through the effort of pushing that on me? Would I have noticed it earlier if I ever bothered to drink coffee in any other way beyond black? And…

"Did you or someone else make me drink some of this after I lost my arm?" I asked just to make sure if my suspicions were correct.

"...Yeah, I think so."

And with that, I had to bar myself from using this world's primary medicine ever again. And unfortunately, the guess was proven right when the mystery illness passed without issue. If there was any benefit to this mess, it was Istarte getting a kick out of the whole ordeal.

Now to find something else to fill the coffee-shaped void in my heart…

30th of Cloudsmarch

Lord Mistal's Manor, the Mistal-Prican Confederation

The war was shaping up to be a long one.

The manor lord sighed as she looked at the updated map of the Silver Wilds. Unlike the now outdated map she commissioned from Pralenin, this map instead marked each and every manor in the Wilds, along with villages. Placed on top of the manors and villages were markers that showed who controlled what. Each marker was colored differently. Blue for the Confederacy. Red for Borst. Orange for Embelor. Yellow for Murst. Cyan for Hirst. Black for Azum.

And in her hand was a white piece, one reserved for territories considered neutral. Something vanishingly rare at this stage. Infact, not a single village nor manor lord fell outside any of the primary Lords… except for one.

Technically, Mistal could've considered it hers, but the situation seems to have changed. The two groups of refugees sent into the once inhospitable region that caused this entire conflict made it and settled in just fine. Infact, they were doing far better than expected. And that was due to the source of the Glow, something she could've never guessed.

A flesh and blood Ancient, with many of the mythologized powers along with it. This Ancient, who calls herself Tanya von Degurechaff, had been sitting there, learning about the world and apparently growing a ridiculous amount of food in the process, recruited the Scholar and built an entire village with proper walls. She trounced her Illagers in combat despite her inexperienced swordsmanship and whipped them into shape, then turned around and did it to the Villagers who volunteered, all to fight off a horde of hundreds of undead.

To be honest, this Degurechaff worried her. Given the knowledge of Degurechaff being an immortal, the idea of trying to play against her seemed pointless. Her returning from deaths did not help things either, removing any considerations of permanently removing the Ancient from the board and making things risky in general. The best bet would be to work alongside this factor, given the limited knowledge Lord Mistal had of her.

Setting the white piece on the zone that Tanya resides in, Mistal began to be figuratively entranced by that idea. Already, Degurechaff was shaping the village into a city, and the coastal position of it meant it could easily be the Wild's third port, or perhaps second should Borst's or Hirst's burn. Additionally, Mistal could make plays to fully take the zone and bring the port under her control through diplomatic means at the moment thanks to successes in holding off Embelor and Murst along her front. Prican was doing well too, but neither could make any meaningful gains at the moment.

If the Confederacy gains a port, that means Hirst can reach them easier and officiate the joining of the realms by his marriage with her. Before the war, this would've been a provocation for the other Lords to go after the two realms. Prican making her his heir and creating the Confederation almost did that already decades ago. Now? Well, Lord Hirst was young, single, and fairly competent, and it made sense considering the likely fate of this war. With the marriage, the fantasy of a Kingdom of the Silverlands could someday be reality.

Diverting all of Hirst's resources to the Confederation was already being planned after all. Murst was putting much more focus against Hirst, which sort of compromised his position against Embelor and Prican. Though the rat did sign a deal with Azum behind both their allies' backs, so that blunts their efforts. Regardless, pulling out from the south would ensure the Confederation has the resources to beat off all the other lords.

Refocusing on the Degurechaff aspect of her situation, Mistal thought about what to do next. In truth, she needed more information. It should be safe to send a larger group to the growing village, judging by her men's report. Perhaps a visit is in order…

Yes, that should be just fine. Embelor is distracted by Borst's latest blunder anyhow. And besides, what's the worst that could happen?