Published at 3rd of October 2023 12:03 pm

Chapter 4.3 In Which the Dark Lord Herds Cats

This chapter is updated by NovelFree.ml

The first surprise we got when Kasser led us all out to the courtyard was that it was snowing. And not light flurries, either; it had clearly not been coming down long enough to accumulate much, but it was just as clearly sticking. Already some of my crusaders were bustling about, sweeping paths in the courtyard and carrying scarves, gloves, and steaming pots of tea to those stationed on the walls.

“Bit early in the year for this, isn’t it?” I murmured.

“The signs have been accumulating,” Minifrit replied, just as quietly. “We are in for an early winter this year—precisely what we do not need, with the food situation as it is. Only time will tell how cold and how long it will be.”

The reminder, as always, caused me a pang of guilt, and rekindled the fires of urgency. The food situation on Dount was at least partly (arguably mostly) my fault. It wouldn’t be as bad if not for the Clans being the Clans, but I was still the idiot who’d burned down the damn forest and half the plantations. I needed to get to work fixing this, and not just because my own forces were going to feel the pinch as hard as anyone else once our supplies started dwindling.

At least the sight closer to hand was more heartening: even just a week of having the goblins in the fold had transformed North Watch. Harold’s new gates were complete and fully installed, featuring the solid iron fittings we had previously assumed would be out of our budget. Kasser’s hasty repairs to the walls, consisting of little more than scaffolding and akorshil planks to replace the broken sections of parapet, were in the process of being replaced with actual stonework being integrated into the old akorthist masonry.

And, of course, there was the new engineering works, an indoor/outdoor hybrid space assembled on the opposite part of the courtyard from the gwynnek pens, consisting of little but two walls and a roof. It was to this that Kasser now led us through the falling snow, to where his team were assembled. This was also where I had parked Truck-kun and left it in the goblins’ care.

That had been less than an hour ago, so the truck was only partially disassembled. Usually, by the time I came back to banish the remains, it looked like somebody had bombed a junkyard.

“Everybody doing all right?” Kasser called out by way of greeting as we approached the open-fronted shed and the goblins swarming therein. “This shit wasn’t set up for work in snow. You guys holding up? Don’t freeze your fingers, you need those.”

“We’re all set, boss, it ain’t like the weather suddenly turned in the last ten minutes,” Youda replied, waving with both hands to show off his fingerless gloves. “Preparations have been made, see?”

He pointed at the iron braziers set up at intervals along the interior of the structure, in each of which a fire slime was imprisoned beneath a metal grate. I was impressed at how quickly the goblins had innovated uses for them. The slimes, we’d discovered through experimentation, could squeeze through porous surfaces like that, but wouldn’t unless compelled, so it sufficed to keep them still without the need for Tame Beast.

There was a shuffle as Kasser and the lead goblins shooed away their non-essential personnel under orders to go get some hot tea in the mess hall, while my council and I took their place under the roof and around the braziers. With the exception of Junko, who had eagerly joined us as soon as we left the council room but just as quickly peeled away to jump around chasing snowflakes outside. Sudden or not, this cold snap was no joke; even Minifrit had put on a coat, which really said something. Her cleavage was practically her religion.

“All right, Lord Seiji, we’ve got reports ready,” Kasser said as soon as we were safely inside, between the braziers and the cracked-open husk of my truck. “I’ve divided efforts into three teams; I’m gonna let them give you the rundown on their findings over the last week. I’m just admin here, they did the work.”

The remaining goblins swelled with satisfaction and Sneppit nodded approvingly. I had been slightly leery of putting Kasser in charge of goblins, but it turned out they got along swimmingly. His brusque demeanor was a contrast with their outgoing nature, but goblins were heavily results-oriented and when it came down to it, Kasser was a craftsman who understood craftspeople. Which was exactly who Sneppit and I had assigned to him.

“So,” he continued, “we’ll hear from Youda, Zeckl, and… Wait. Where the hell is Kekkro?”

Youda and Zeckl exchanged a loaded look.

“He had his boys pry off the bumper and one of the side mirrors and hauled ‘em off down the tunnel,” Youda replied. “And yes, we did remind him about the mandatory meeting.”

“All right, fine, fuck him, then,” Kasser grated. “I’m disbanding the metallurgy team and pulling their funding.”

“Whoah, hang on,” Sneppit interjected. “Discipline’s important, but don’t cut us off from valuable assets just because one of your team leads is being a prick.”

“I’m not a complete idiot, Sneppit, thanks for your concern. This is the last straw. Kekkro’s been meticulously building the impression that he’s just indulging his intellectual curiosity at Lord Seiji’s expense and not likely to produce any results.”

“Yeah, I don’t have access to his notes or nothin’, but I gossip with his team,” Zeckl added. “Problem with the metallurgical investigations is they either can’t figure out what shit even is or have no way of getting more. Like…fuckin’ aluminum? It’s pure coincidence I happen to know what that is. Dungeons don’t produce ingots of that shit, an’ the nearest natural source is up in the Shattered Kingdoms. Might as well cast engine parts outta solid gold.”

“Right, so, he’s out,” Kasser stated. “I’m gonna let Kekkro submit a report in writing, just to be on the safe side, and if he can’t deliver tangible results I’m axing his team. That okay with you, Sneppit?”

“Mm…yeah, that’s reasonable,” she agreed, nodding and ignoring his sharp tone. “There’s value in letting techy types indulge scientific curiosity for its own sake, but that presupposes a certain level of institutional solvency and we ain’t there yet. I’d add that if he can’t deliver a positive report, we then demand an inquest, to be adjudicated by a Judge, to make Kekkro prove he wasn’t knowingly defrauding the Dark Crusade for personal benefit, and if he fails that he’s personally liable for all expenses and resources that went into his team this week.”

“Uh, doesn’t that seem a little harsh?” I asked warily. It was just a week, but that was a hell of a financial burden to drop on somebody whose entire society was currently trying to recover from a civil war.

“Examples have to be made,” Sneppit said without a trace of pity. “Especially this early in the organization’s lifetime; if you don’t establish up front that there are consequences for jerking us around, people will. ‘Sides, there’s almost no way to fail an inquest like that; the burden of proof on us is borderline impossible. Holding it is important for sending the message that we will take shit like this seriously, and that our response will be fair.”

“Right, well, anyway,” said Kasser, “we have results. Youda, you’re up.”

“Right!” Youda clapped his gloved hands and rubbed them together, grinning in eagerness. “This has been great, Lord Seiji. So! I had most of the direct work done on day one, between analyzing samples and your descriptions of how stuff worked.”

“What little I knew,” I admitted.

“Hey, every bit helps! I’ve been doin’ my own experiment since then, usin’ both common materials and running tests on samples from the truck. Right now I don’t have a prototype formula yet but I’m real confident that organic polymers based on khora oil are achievable. I’m past the point of making a blend that doesn’t put off toxic fumes; still gotta get it to set properly, my experiments so far are all gummy. The ones that set at all.”

“You got that far in a week? Based on nothing but knowing that it’s possible? Holy shit, Youda.”

“Hey, I’m a professional!” Despite his demurral, the alchemist grinned in delight at my praise. “The main thing preventing us from developing plastic is I doubt it would’ve occurred to anybody you even can turn oil into a permanent, solid material. Once the notion is there, the method just comes from knowhow and experimentation. I’m optimistic about gettin’ a nice, flexible blend soon. Making the harder varieties is gonna take more time—also a fully transparent one, though that shouldn’t be as much of a hurdle once I get the consistency right. We already got ways of bleaching pigment from natural khora oil. In a way, it might’ve been better that I didn’t have access to the original methods used, since those would’ve been based on your petrochemicals, and, uh… Sorry, bossman, but that gasoline shit is worthless. Asauthec is way more versatile and seems to contain more potential energy by volume.”

“Yeah, and what’s with that engine lubricant?” Zeckl muttered, grimacing and rubbing her own hands. “I’m gonna have that shit under my nails for the rest of my life. Why is it black?”

“I don’t have to tell you all the potential benefits of plastic, Lord Seiji, I’m sure you know better than we do,” Kasser added. “Personally, what I can’t wait for is having a blend we can use to make this safety glass.” He reached out to lovingly run a hand over Truck-kun’s detached windshield. “Talk about a game-changer…”

“I’m on it, boss,” Youda promised. “Now, Lord Seiji, as for the other project: I’m not having as much luck with a facsimile of the rubber from the tires. I still think it’s…theoretically achievable, given the versatility of different kinds of khora oils, but we gotta remember the fundamental origins. You said that stuff’s made from tree sap, right? Yeah, we’ve got zero hope of ever sourcing that.”

“I think the modern version may be synthetic,” I offered.

Youda shook his head. “Boss, nothing in life is truly synthetic, it’s just a matter of how many steps of processing there are between the final product and some natural material. Everything comes from somewhere, unless you can get a dungeon to drop it, and that won’t help us here. Unless you object, I’m gonna back-burner that; given the materials we got to work with, plastic is more achievable and more useful in my opinion.”

“I’m going to trust your perspective on that,” I said. “Excellent work, everybody. I’m impressed as hell. I knew I was right to pick you for this job, Youda.”

“Hey, I do what I can,” he said, his immensely self-satisfied grin belying the modesty of his words. “And with that, I’m gonna yield the floor. I think Zeckl’s got a lot more to talk about anyway.”

“Right!” Zeckl looked excited for her chance to speak. I wasn’t as familiar with her; she’d been given her job on the basis of loyalty, having been an engineer with Jadrak’s company who’d apparently been the first goblin to join Velaven’s little counter-revolution. From what I understood, Sneppit’s engineers were considered to be superior, but they were fully occupied rebuilding the tram network. Kasser seemed positive about Zeckl’s skills, which was good enough for me. “So, just tellin’ you right now, Lord Seiji, we are not gonna be able to reproduce this engine. Never mind the materials, just the precision with which these parts are made… I’d need jewelers, not blacksmiths. And that’s assuming we only need one of each; I got absolutely no reliable way of reproducing identical parts with that kinda fine detail. I don’t think the Lancor Empire’s got the industrial capacity to build this thing. It’d take a very large, very rich country to even think of this, let alone manufacture it, and that’s even presuming they already know how all these gizmos work.”

The goblin waved offhandedly at the exposed heart of Truck-kun behind her, and I sighed.

“All right, fair enough. I guess I shouldn’t—”

“Whoah, hang on now,” she interrupted, holding up a hand. “I’m not givin’ you bad news, Lord Seiji, just moderating your expectations. So, no, we can’t reproduce this exactly, but just takin’ it apart and lookin’ at the pieces has revolutionized my entire understanding of engineering like eight times in the last week. This transmission alone… I got about fifty ideas for current heavy equipment I can make better with a system like that, or previously theoretical ones that wouldn’t’ve worked in practice. Just the basic design of an internal combustion engine, I mean, holy shit. You got any idea what I can do with that? I’m just tellin’ you, whatever I can build based on this is gonna be bigger and less efficient, made from inferior materials compared to what you’re used to. Those’re the big caveats. But oh, man, the things I can build. Holy fuckin’ shit.”

Zeckl was practically salivating now. No, not practically; she actually had to pause and wipe her mouth.

Kasser cleared his throat pointedly. “That’s great, Zeckl, but I think what Lord Seiji needs to hear are details.”

“Right! Yeah, so basic considerations, point by point.” She turned around to study the half-dismantled truck as if seeing the parts helped jog her memory. “The mechanical systems—the engine, transmission, suspension, power windows, just a bunch of stuff in there, I can blueprint up similar designs from having seen ‘em work and taken ‘em apart. Again, not as good as this, but it’s still gonna be way in advance of anything we got right now. Some systems and parts we straight up can’t do anything with. The electronics are useless to us, I’m afraid. Nifty as hell, but it’d take entire generations of technological understanding that I can’t reverse-engineer from this truck alone to put together systems that could even do anything with tech like that. Likewise, the LEDs might as well be full o’ pixie farts for all the good they are to us, but based on your descriptions I don’t think it’ll be hard to rig up an incandescent bulb. Metal filament in a glass housing, easy; it’s just a matter of gettin’ the dimensions right. Trial an’ error. The basic tech behind the air conditioning should be reproducible and that’ll be fucking magic for preserving food, though Youda’s gonna have to invent a workable coolant cos we can’t figure out what the hell that stuff is except that it’s poisonous as fuck. Of course, to run light bulbs or heating and cooling systems— Oh, and yeah, that!”

She turned back to me, grinning hungrily.

“Electricity! I haven’t managed to rig up an actual generator yet, we gotta get our hands on a shit ton of the strongest magnets available, but man oh man. Once that’s running, the fuckin’ sky’s the limit! Oh oh, and even better, Lord Seiji, there’s one thing I think we can do better than even the original tech, and that’s a power source! It uses controlled explosions to generate motive force, but there are ways we can do similar using just heat, and thanks to you we’ve got literally infinite sources of heat! Youda, that reminds me, how’s that going? I know you’ve been busy…”

“Oh, yeah, right.” Youda turned toward me as well. “Like she said, Lord Seiji: fire slimes. We figure out how to breed those suckers, and we’ve got an infinite energy source without needing you to summon more for every new gadget we rig up.”

“Are you having trouble breeding them?” I asked. “I thought slimes were supposed to be pretty easy, as long as you don’t need them absolutely pure.”

“Slimes in general, yeah. We’re also having good results with the light and healing slimes—it’s a revolution just bein’ able to turn our actual garbage into resources that useful. Fire slimes are tricky, though. See, the problem is, they’re on fire. Water kills ‘em, and anything else they touch…well, it burns. Literally, when they try to eat they can’t, cos they burn their food and apparently even slimes can’t digest ash and charcoal. So we gotta work out something to feed ‘em that’s organic, almost devoid of moisture, and non-flammable.”

I winced. “Yikes. Okay, yeah, I can see how the chemistry of that would be a challenge.”

“Oh, I’ve already cracked that,” he said, waving a hand dismissively. “Banged that out over a lunch break to give my brain a rest from polymers. That shit’s actually complicated, this was just a little hobby project. Nah, the issue is makin’ it economically viable. Right now, gettin’ fire slimes to reproduce is kinda the opposite of any other slimes: they need specialized and very expensive feed. I can bring down the base material cost by refining the recipe, I’m pretty sure, but I reckon that doing this at any scale is gonna come down to building a whole new supply chain for it.”

“Boss,” Biribo murmured right at my ear, “better wrap this up soon. There’s a situation developing at the gate that’s gonna require your attention. Don’t worry, doesn’t look like it’s gonna get violent, unless one of the sentries has a real stupid moment.”

I shot him a look, but forbore to comment; the lack of detail was annoying but Biribo always told me what I needed to know in the moment. If he didn’t this time, it suggested I would learn from the aforementioned developing situation faster than he could have explained it.

Velaven and Aster were looking sidelong at the familiar, having noticed him whispering to me even if they couldn’t hear it. Everyone else was still focusing on the goblins and Kasser, who were now discussing supply chains.

“…can’t do jack shit without details,” Sneppit was complaining.

“And I’ll give ‘em to you as soon as I’ve got ‘em!” Youda replied, exasperated. “I just said I don’t have the final recipe down, I just said that.”

“But if you’ve got a general idea of the supplies you need, knowing will help me begin to plan—”

“I’d rather not commit to anything until the details are finalized,” Kasser interrupted. “We’re okay in terms of most non-perishable materiel, but food specifically is an issue right now, if I’m not mistaken?”

Sneppit sucked in a breath through her teeth, scowling. “Food is…a looming issue of the near future. Thanks to the stockpiling everybody in Kzidnak’s been doing for months, we’re not hurting yet and won’t be for a while, but things are gonna get tight before the end of winter if we can’t lock down a significant source of supplies.”

“And there are plans in progress to address that before it becomes a crisis,” I said firmly. “You’re both right. Youda, Zeckl, you’ve both done fine work. I’d like you to get Kasser detailed reports of things you know you’ll need to continue development of these projects, as well as more general wish lists so we can narrow down how to allocate what we’ve got and start to look for what we don’t. Sneppit, I’ll want to see the final version with your notes and analysis, please. I trust you to make the necessary determinations.”

Feet were already pounding on the gravel as the goblins gave their assent, quickly accompanied by Junko’s warning bark. A young woman in a heavy coat and a scarf that obscured half her face, crossbow in hand and snow dusting her black hair, skidded into the shelter.

“Lord Seiji! We need you at the gate—the cats are back. They want to talk to you.”

Presentation mattered—if there was one unifying theme to my Dark Crusade, that was it. And so, I took the extra time to stage my appearance to the cat tribe appropriately.

The goblins had designed a mechanism that would open or close the fortress gates by turning a crank in one of the flanking towers. It was still being built, though, and installing it would involve taking out part of the tower wall, so this was a future amenity. That meant I had to have four crusaders push the huge doors open themselves. I wasn’t super pleased about making my people do such heavy grunt work while I just stood there waiting; the thing itself made me feel guilty, and also the impression it conveyed was not one I wanted to give my guests. But it wasn’t like I could open the damn things myself, so…here we were.

The doors were pushed wide, revealing the visiting cat people to me, and me to them: the Dark Lord framed in the center of the widening aperture, flanked by Aster at my left and Junko to my right. The rest of my entourage I’d directed to stay well back, able to keep watch but leaving us to confront the cats alone.

There were three of them, a man with gray tinging the fur around his muzzle but otherwise seemingly strong and healthy, and two women to either side, one younger than he and the other clearly elderly. Snowflakes had clearly been accumulating on their heads and shoulders for several minutes at least.

Junko growled softly, laying her ears back. I rested a hand on the back of her neck and she quieted, but remained on point.

As one, the three cat people knelt in the road outside the fortress. They had placed two heavy baskets down in front of themselves, covered against the snow with blankets so I couldn’t see what they contained.

“Dark Lord,” said the male in the center, his baritone clear and strong as his appearance, not as tinged with age as his fur. “We come to you as wanderers seeking the fire, with gifts of respect as befit honorable guests, and gratitude for your mercy. I am Djast, speaker for my people.”

“That’s the title of the tribe’s leader,” Biribo murmured next to my ear. “At least, that’s what Velaven’s whispering at me from back there. The specific politics of this dinky little beast tribe isn’t part of my innate knowledge, but seems like she’d know.”

I studied them for a moment. All three remained on one knee, the women with their heads lowered, but Djast holding his spine straight and looking me in the eye. Interesting; they didn’t bow like Japanese or make ritual hand gestures like Fflyr, but Velaven had done the same thing on formally meeting me for the first time. A Savin custom, maybe? The local beast tribes did seem subordinate to Shylverrael.

“I’m Lord Seiji,” I finally said aloud. “Welcome to North Watch. Glad to finally meet you in person, Speaker.”

They didn’t rise. Was I supposed to tell them to? Fuck, how the hell was I expected to know the protocol here? Biribo didn’t prompt me, so presumable Velaven wasn’t prompting him…

“It is on behalf of my people that I come before you, Dark Lord Seiji,” Djast stated, and I was impressed with his ability to project dignity and humility at the same time. I did enjoy dealing with people who understood showtime and weren’t in competition with me. “But first, I must give you a father’s thanks for preserving the life of my daughter.”

The younger woman to his left raised her head to meet my eyes, and I had to concentrate on keeping the confusion off my face. I did what, now? When had I ever—

Oh. Looking into the cat woman’s proud, outwardly calm expression, I remembered her now. Not her name, but the sequence of events which had wrapped up her ill-fated raid on North Watch. I recalled the terror in her eyes as I’d screamed threats into her face from centimeters away. The sensation of her fangs piercing my hand with the strength of my own grip.

I was spared having to come up with my own response to this development, thanks to Biribo softly and rapidly narrating observations from Velaven.

“And ridding you of a political rival, yes?”

Djast remained calm in expression, but the girl—Jessak, Biribo quietly reminded me—swallowed once, heavily.

“I didn’t realize she was the daughter of the tribe’s leader when that guy tried to throw her under the bus,” I continued aloud, re-phrasing this third-hand political insight on the fly. “It suggests he wouldn’t have dared, unless he was confident he could stand up to you. Perhaps even wanted an excuse, hmm?”

Velaven really was a valuable acquisition, with her skills and acumen. But that had never been in question; I didn’t feel any closer to being able to trust her just yet.

“Heheh.” The sound wasn’t quite a laugh, more an onomatopoeic recitation of one, and it came from the other cat woman, who now raised her head. She was grinning, which with those fangs was somehow even more unsettling than when goblins did it. Or maybe I was just used to the goblins by now. “No fool, this one. Nor a surprise, that. Not likely Virya would bring us a fool, is it?”

She straightened up with a grunt, raising her head.

“I am Keszil, priestess of memory for my people. I stand in your presence, Dark Lord, because an old woman’s knees can only take so much kneeling in the snow. You’ll strike me down or not, as you see fit, one way or another. I didn’t get to be an old woman by denying what I can’t change.”

“I’d like to think I’m not quite that petty,” I replied, not having to feign the smile. I already liked Keszil. Not enough to even try pronouncing that name, but I liked her. “Feel free to rise, all of you. I’ll ask your pardon for my lack of hospitality, but I’d like to hear what brings you to me today before I invite you in. The last time your people visited here, it was…less polite than this.”

“And we are grateful for the mercy you have shown us,” Djast replied, standing up as directed. “I hope that the tribute we delivered was to your liking, Dark Lord.”

“Ah, yes, that.” I frowned, recalling. “I appreciate the gifts, it was all excellent, and gladly accepted in the spirit with which it was offered. But really, that’s enough. I never asked you for tribute, and I don’t need any. So long as you don’t show any more hostility toward my people, I’ve no demands to make of yours.”

Djast looked taken aback by that. Keszil, though, laughed again—genuinely laughed, this time—and thunked the end of the gnarled walking stick she was carrying against the snow. It was weird how that thing looked like a gnarled piece of wood; it had to have been carved that way on purpose. Akorshil didn’t…gnarl.

“Generous, in his way! It’s as you said, Jessak. Angry, yes; cruel, maybe, when riled; sadistic, no.”

For a moment Djast’s composure faltered, and even on his animal-like features his expression of shut the hell up before you get us killed, old woman was as clear as printed text before he recovered his poise. I had to sympathize.

“Then if you do not require tribute, Dark Lord,” he said aloud, “I pray you will accept these further gifts as evidence of what my people can offer you.”

“What you…can offer?” This seemed like a loaded statement, but Biribo was no longer transmitting helpful advice from Velaven. “I take it you want to open trade? I’m amenable to that.”

“Trade, no.” Djast drew in a deep breath and let it out swiftly, the resulting puff of mist disturbing a swirl of snowflakes. “Our council has deliberated and decided, Dark Lord, and what I bring before you now is the will of my people, confirmed. We offer you…ourselves.”

“Your…” I blinked. “You—wait, what? Are you surrendering?” I didn’t realize we were at war. Hadn’t we already settled this?

“Everything we have,” Djast said, his aspect solemn verging on grimness now, “all that we are, and whatever future there remains to us we will pledge to you, if you will only save us.”

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