Mage Tank

Chapter 272: Viewpoints

Tavio led me through a copse of trees that lined the edge of the small lake where we’d landed, then along the edge of a field of grain similar to wheat. The field’s edge ran up against the grounds of the nearby defensive fort, giving way to a low growth of vegetation that was kept short for a hundred yards around the fort itself.

A quarter mile further was the mew, which was our general destination, whereupon Tavio took me to the base of one of the hammerhead perches. Looking up, I judged this one to be three times the height of the one back in Fort Ruiz, rising several hundred feet into the air.

Tavio squatted low, then leapt upward without saying a word. After about fifty feet, just as gravity started to assert itself on his momentum, his body glowed and he shot skyward several times faster. He landed easily atop of the perch, then turned to glance down at me. Rather than trying for anything quite so cinematic, I just teleported.

Tavio turned to where I appeared, smiled, then held out an arm to our north. I followed his gesture, finding an unfettered view of miles upon miles of farmland, rich to bursting with crops ready for harvest. Wheat fields were dominant, interspersed with other similar grains, but to the east, I could spot distant fields of trees that bore a bitter fruit harvested for its oil. I would have called them olive trees, but I knew from experience that the taste was nowhere near as good.

Beyond the fields, the Littan capital of Tarras could be seen in the distance. The city was built on a natural rise that had been raised up further and expanded. That work had been done over the course of Litta’s entire history, but the majority of the mighty hill’s expansion was the progress of Delvers over the last century.

The walls around the base of Tarras stood no less high than our borrowed perch, gleaming white in the bright afternoon sun, dotted with towers and wide slits for ballista or other siege weapons. Beyond it, the city’s center crested above the walls, swelling up as though it meant to kiss the skies themselves. At the lowest point that I could make out was a network of large shops and markets, and above those were airy city estates with the opulent embellishments of wealth.

Near the hill’s top were the workplaces and residences of senators and other governmental bigwigs, more austere than the dwellings below. Several temples stood proudly between the civil constructions, representing several of the most important gods among the Littan pantheon. Above the temples were colorful gardens, neatly cultivated to present the full medley of imperial flora in bloom.

And above that, at the highest point for a hundred miles, was the Imperial Palace.

The building was at once reserved and intricately detailed. Its architecture was majestic, yet uncomplicated. Every arch brought the eye to a stunning sculpture, each angle pulled the onlooker toward a masterful relief or frieze. At a glance, it might have been mistaken for plain at times, but each moment spent studying its walls led to the discovery of yet another detail that could just as easily have been overlooked.

I took the sight in for a moment, appreciating it in a way no normal man could from this distance, eyes unbounded from their organismal limits. Tavio stood beside me, drinking it in with a pride that practically radiated from the man, and I had to give it to him, it was a damn good view.

But after lingering on the palace, my eyes drifted downward, back to the gardens, which were arranged in just the right way to confuse and hinder an invading force. Down past the structures of government, no less lavish than the gaudy dwellings below them, past the markets filled with upscale goods, to the wall that blocked my view to all the lesser parts of the capital. Then, I came back to the fields, and all the men and women working to take in the season’s harvest.

A constant breeze blew past atop the perch, but it kicked up for a moment, bringing with it the cool promise of fall. While Hiward was a land with mild seasons that were generally divided into sunny or not, and Eschendur was a land where it was either hot and wet or cold and wet, Litta appreciated the full complement of nature’s cycles. Thoughts of fall reminded me that it had been three full years since I came to this world, which was an unexpected reverie. Even more unexpected was the well of emotion that hit me as I considered how much I had changed.

I didn’t linger on introspection, no matter how inviting it felt at that moment. Rather, I focused on what had guided me in that direction. People, working the land with their bodies, doing their best to bring in food for their families. It was surreal how odd I found it all.

I’d spent time in Eschengal and Foundation, but those were capital cities. I’d spent some time roaming the Hiwardian countryside, but that was during our mad pursuit of Delves during the year after we dealt with The Cage. I honestly had very little experience interacting with people who weren’t themselves Delvers, or who didn’t work in an industry that directly catered to Delvers.

My life was mostly isolated from the mundane, and I found that the scene of humanity sprawling out around the capital was more engaging than another spectacle like the palace. The ordinary had become strange.

Tavio didn’t speak. This wasn’t a moment where words were necessary. He didn’t need my affirmation that this view was worthy of being his favorite, and the Littan beside me could read my posture and expression well enough to know my feelings. His own eyes hinted at something bittersweet when he gazed upon the capital, an emotion that harmonized with my own, although I expected we held those notes for different reasons.

For a moment, I thought to speak, but I hesitated to ruin the moment with my question. Regardless, Tavio gave a voice to my discomfort.

“They are mostly freedpersons,” he said, waving towards the workers in the fields. “Former slaves who have bought their freedom.”

“Not citizens, though,” I said.

Tavio shook his head. “No. There are many paths from slave to citizen, but none of them are easy. For most, owning their own future is enough.”

“Is this a representative slice of the farming population?” I asked. “Or do you keep the slaves in a different field?” _{𝙣𝙤𝙫𝙥𝙪𝙗.𝒄𝙤𝙢}

Tavio let out a quick breath, halfway to being a chuckle. “I suppose that by definition they must be in a different field,” he said, then turned away from the view to study me. “I will not defend the practice. Many of us from Seqaria can trace our lineage back to ancestors enslaved by the empire. It is not so recent in our memories as it is for the Hiwardians, but it is there. Even so, there are very few who remain as such, and across the empire as a whole their numbers dwindle.”

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“Has the practice fallen out of favor?” I asked.

Tavio shrugged. “There are many reasons for it,” he said. “It has always been so that slaves can earn their way to freedom in the empire, but those laws were often without teeth. Any who would not benefit from such a transition could hinder the process, so many were denied such a right. However, after Hiward’s rebellion, laws were passed to give more protection to slaves, which has led to a much greater number becoming freedpersons like you see here.

“A citizen cannot become a slave,” he continued. “A freedperson can only become a slave by choice, but that method is too costly for whoever wishes to take on such a slave contract. It is cheaper and easier to simply hire a worker. Otherwise, slaves have historically come from conquest, and the empire has seen little of that in the last hundred years.”

“Meaning that as existing slaves gain their freedom, there aren’t any new slaves to take their place,” I said.

“That is how it is seen,” he said. “Many believe this will continue until there are no more slaves at all within the empire, but I think that is naive. The empress and the senate will ultimately decide one way or the other.”

“And which way do you think they’re leaning on that?”

“The empress wishes to do away with it,” he said. “The senate will say as much, but do little to support the effort. The empress could decree it so, but then the legions would need to ensure that her will is followed. That would be a bloody road to freedom, I think, especially since many officers come from families who have benefited greatly from their slaves.

“At the same time, there are many in the military who are former slaves and are working their way to citizenship through service,” he said. “The fear is that this would create a divide within the military itself. If so, the question becomes whether inviting such a conflict would do more harm than good.”

I listened to Tavio speak, considering the issues and trying to stay somewhat detached. There was a whole culture here that I was divorced from, giving me a very narrow view of the issues. From what I knew even before having this conversation, modern Littan slaves were treated much better than one might expect, but ‘polite’ slavery was still fucking slavery. I doubted many of the enslaved would volunteer to live under those conditions. I also doubted that me trying to white knight the problem as a knee-jerk reaction would end up being helpful for anyone.

Tavio clapped me on the shoulder. “I can feel the judgment rolling off of you in waves,” he said. “Do not worry, if I need someone to help me burn down a manor and abscond with their servants, I will let you know.”

“I do enjoy when problems can be solved through a direct application of discrete violence,” I replied.

“And yet, so few of them truly can be,” Tavio said wistfully. “Speaking more seriously, my life has been spent in service of making the empire a better place. I will see that all of her people live freely before I die.” He studied the horizon and squinted into the distance, nodding subtly to himself. “But in order to reap, one must first sow, and we should get down from this perch.”

“Uh, not sure I follow your metaphor.”

“No, no, the last part was not a metaphor,” said Tavio. He pointed over my shoulder. “Our hammerhead is about to arrive.”

I turned to see a mass of feathers swooping down towards me at over a hundred miles per hour, hungry yellow eyes gleaming, bone-crushing beak open and ready to clamp down on my delicious body.

I cast Shortcut and appeared back at the foot of the perch. Tavio landed beside me a second later, doing a tuck and roll for the ground’s benefit. The hammerhead landed above us shortly after, then cocked its head over the side to stare down at us. The feathers along its neck ruffled in agitation, which I thought was understandable since Tavio and I had rudely intruded on its territory and then compounded our faux pas by denying it the opportunity to eat us.

Tavio made a clicking noise and waved at the bird. “Have you ever tasted hammerhead?” he asked me. The bird tilted its head and blinked.

“Yes, actually,” I said. “I had it roasted with vegetables on a riverboat once. Nuralie was with me.”

“It is quite good,” said Tavio, dropping his hand while continuing to stare up at the massive avian. “I prefer mine on skewers.” The hammerhead blinked again, clacked its beak, then broke eye contact and withdrew. Tavio turned, and we began making our way back to the group.

We made some small talk as we went. He asked me how Shog was doing. I told him the eldritch monstrosity was doing well but away on a one-year sabbatical at the moment. He asked if I was aware that Shog was categorically evil. I said yes, but that we’d made some progress toward him becoming less evil recently, and that he’d never killed anyone who hadn’t tried to kill us first while in my presence. He said that it was very nice to hear and that he was looking forward to meeting the c’thon again sometime in the future.

Then, he asked me if I had any surprises lined up for the second half of the journey. I admitted that I did, and he asked a few probing questions, which I answered to his satisfaction.

When we got back, everyone else was already loaded up and ready to go. Cezil made some kissy noises as Tavio and I walked in, likely in an attempt to imply that Tavio and I had stepped away for intimate activities. I held my finger to my lips to plead with her not to expose our forbidden love. I felt Grotto feverishly taking psychic notes for the next Void King arc.

The hammerhead that I expected Tavio would serve us for dinner later swooped down and picked us up, and we climbed back into the Littan skies, headed south for Nohrrin.

Once we were in the air, Tavio stood and addressed the group. “Ladies and gentlemen,” he said. “I am certain that you all have a deep fondness for the luxuries afforded to us by this lovely vessel.” He waved his hand around the cramped cabin while Guar and Baltae booed. “Made even fonder by the memories you have of helping to maintain them.” Cezil made a retching noise.

Pio leaned forward and whispered to me, “We have all been through punitive duties cleaning the bird feces from the tops of these things.”

“However,” Tavio continued, commanding silence again, “Fortune’s Folly has generously offered to upgrade our accommodations.”

Tavio nodded to me, and I opened a portal to the Closet at the back of the plane. Through it was a freshly constructed lounge–inspired in part by Club Dragon–with a fully stocked bar, small heated swimming pool, and two golem attendants ready to serve refreshments. The irony of my earlier thoughts about becoming detached from normal society was not lost on me in that moment, but I also wasn’t going to subject my ass to another five hours in those seats. It was too precious to suffer like that.

There were varied reactions from the Littans, which I interpreted as positive, and I led us through the portal to enjoy the rest of our flight in comfort. I’d figured out how to change the portal’s reference point to the birdplane about five minutes into the flight, but wanted to take some more time to get a feel for Team Pio before literally opening up to them like this.

Cezil immediately went for the pool, and Pio intercepted her before she could disrobe. Madel found a comfortable chair and settled in to silently watch everyone from a corner. Guar started chatting up the golems, although neither of them was sentient, so he was really chatting up Grotto. Tavio walked in with the rest of my party and began discussing the pros and cons of different weapon intrinsics.

Baltae, however, took one step into the Closet and froze. He looked around at the walls, surveyed the golems, and kicked his boot against the ground. He sniffed the air, then pulled out his floating book. He consulted it for a moment, looked up from the book at me, looked back at the book, then snapped it shut and looked back at me.

“Master Xor’Drel,” he said, taking slow steps in my direction. Everyone else picked up on Baltae’s solemn energy, and the room grew quiet. The mage stopped just in front of me and quirked an eyebrow. “How in all of the hells do you own a Delve?”