Chapter 175: Back to Harrak

North did the Harrakan Empress travel, day after day, under a sunless sky. Boiling clouds extended above while the dead earth trailed under her as she flew towards the decrepit heart of a dead nation. By night, she opened portals to sweet-smelling Sinur with its sonorous fountains and the hubbub of its citizens, to clean sheets and companions but by day there was nothing distracting her from the soulless husk of the land. Not even combat broke the monotony of the journey, because lesser undead perceived her much as they would a necrarch, and even the most aggressive of turned beasts left her well enough alone. There was nothing but gray hills as far as she could see. The air had this dry, slightly spicy quality she’d come to associate with black mana saturation.

 

Her body drank deep of the ambient power and strength flooded her conduits no matter how much she poured into the harness. The overwhelming concentration of black mana was harmless to her by now. Since she was no longer actively dying, the lack of fear carried her sight far. She finally noticed the dulled edges of the earth and the distant whorls of mana dancing up from the tainted place like heat from a desert. This lethal breath and the shuffling gaits of dead things were the only traces of movements for leagues. A conundrum rose on the first day. She had set out to destroy a place that was designed to empower her. Was there a paradox here? No, there wasn’t. Black mana had always been a means to an end. Black mana was change, even if it was also entropy, for change never came without a cost. It was a tool in her arsenal, not an end in itself. In truth, the deadlands were the anathema to what she saw as the essence of black mana. It was stasis while the black actively hungered. It conserved when the black was change. It was constant gloom while black mana was the darkness to an ephemeral light. She wasn’t fighting her own self-interest. She was liberating the place.

 

Her problem solved, the Harrakan Empress was left mulling dark thoughts.

 

“Why,” she finally asked one night, “Why a fucking blue honey drug cartel?”

 

//I am as baffled as you are, Your Majesty.

 

Viv looked up from her half-chewed pastry to dispense a condescending glare to the golem.

 

“This was a rhetorical question. I’m just annoyed.”

 

//Are you implying that you know the perpetrator of this audacious conspiracy?

 

“Of course I do.”

 

//Yet you have neither arrested nor killed them?

 

“And deprive myself of my chief weapons developer?”

 

The golem didn’t even mark a pause.

 

//Are you implying that Lak-Tak created the drug cartel?

 

“None other.”

 

The golem contemplated her words for only a few moments.

 

//My algorithm cannot make sense of this situation.

 

“That is because you have preset parameters for yries and Lak-Tak is, according to their standards, a raging psychopath.”

 

//An anomaly.

//This makes sense.

 

“And he did it because he is experimenting with ways to destroy mankind in an innovative manner and a psychedelics dependency epidemic lands firmly in the ‘maximum dickery’ category he loves so much. I mean come on. He came up with the fire wasp throwers.”

 

//I understand now.

 

“I told him to cut that shit or else. I’m sure we can wean those poor bastards off the stuff with enough time and counseling.”

 

//Perhaps the blue honey could be exported to Baran.

 

“Solfis. No.”

 

//Imagine the tariffs.

 

“You will not opium war our neighbors when we’ve just established ourselves as respectable partners.”

 

//You are no fun.

 

***

 

The low hills gave way to flat ground, then high valleys criss-crossed by buried paths, the pitted stones emerging here and there from the dust like cracked tibias. Sometimes, she came across large cities crawling with the dead, or outposts, or forts. Black trunks on flat tops spoke of long-dead forest, the last needles and roots turned to ash after centuries of assaults. Black mana sung in her being, rushing in her core through her conduits to feed and expand them. It hurt in a good way. Like a good scrub. Venting mana in great bursts only stopped the oncoming rush for a few seconds, then she was full again. When she did, if only for the few seconds of relief it afforded, bats and birds fled the skies and as the shadow dragon stretched its wings. Maybe the remnants of some self-preservation instinct. It mattered little. She appreciated once more how incredibly unlikely her survival had been. Only the fact her conduits had been forming meant the mana could affect her less the first time she’d crossed those lands. The afforded period of grace meant she’d only suffered instead of sharing the fate she’d imposed on Sonagi, back in Helock’s arena.

 

She shared those thoughts upon her return.

 

“I think we’ve already determined that you were lucky. I would also like to point out that you’re incredibly unlucky as well. Most outlanders are not dropped intot the center of the world’s worst magical catastrophe,” Sidjin, her paramour, said at dinner.

 

He pushed fresh slices of fruit on her platter. He had peeled them himself without magic in a rare public display of concern, carefully. Pungent pith littered the table. She loved watching his thin fingers work.

 

“More importantly, could you tell your worshippers to stop erecting war shrines near your obelisks? The priests are complaining.”

 

“Again? I told them to stop it at least fifteen damn times!”

 

“They claim it is merely a mark of pride as the newly formed Ironborn. If the Knights of the Blue Rose can have their garden, surely they can have stone carvings. There are no inscriptions.”

 

“So what, stealth religion? What do you want me to do? I’ve already outlawed the worship and told them to stop it. Do I need to persecute them?”

 

“Well. No, I suppose this is untenable.”

 

The Empress of Harrak signaled for the Bishop of Neriad to join her. A few words of smalltalk to express respect after summoning him in such a cavalier fashion, and she asked for a bit more proselytism on his part. Viviane was not a god. Neriad was a god. Surely, the burden of conviction lay with the priests themselves? The bishop asked if he was given free rein to preach and interfere with the grueling training Solfis had planned. The Empress agreed. Ears had no lids, so nothing prevented the priest from assaulting the poor folks’ ears just as Solfis assaulted their endurance. The problem was now solved in the most political way possible: by offloading the solution to the one who’d complained to begin with. Thus satisfied, the Black Witch of Harrak had some more Kava with a cloud of milk while she contemplated tomorrow’s activities.

***

 

//It should still be here.

 

Viv looked at the massive gate of the Green Vale City Bank, currently sealed tight. An encouraging sight.

 

“Well, we do need the money.”

 

//I sense a but.

 

“It’s just not as entertaining when there are no guards, if you know what I mean.”

 

//Oh, I do.

//And I have good news.

 

“Oh?”

 

//Observe.

 

Solfis grabbed the titanic gate and pulled. A loud clang followed by a deep screech expressed the agony of the gate’s hinges, woken from their torpor after centuries of unuse. The sound echoed painfully in the city, still crawling with undead. To the side, a gut spiller shuffled.

 

The gaping maw of the dead bank burped out an effluvium of concentrated black mana, showing the void inside.

 

Or it would look like that, but Viv could feel the insides perfectly well.

 

“Oh you gotta be kidding me. YOINK!”

 

Her spell tore through the air, latching on and killing the first of the creatures charging her. The undead might think her one of their own but nascent necrarchs tended to be territorial, and she was clearly an intruder.

 

“SOLFIS!”

 

//I aim to entertain.

//This is good practice for you.

//Watch out for the left flank, Your Majesty.

 

***

 

That night, Her Imperial Grace, the High Lady She-Who-Feasts-On-Many-And-Collects-Much attended dinner in the banquet hall, which was not her habit. The dragoness much preferred to hunt her food in the wilderness after a long day of dealing with numbers. Nevertheless, the cooks and attendants knew what to do. A large couch was put forward upon which she could rest her large serpentine form. A brazier was brought forward, and the finest meats laid upon it, slathered in sweet sauce. Attendants provided a vat of fresh water perfumed with citrus rinds which she delicately picked between rending claws. The Empress watched the dragoness from her seat at the high table as she sipped on sweet wine, one eyebrow raised in interrogation. The dragoness, however, waited until the guests were more comfortable before submitting her request. Or at least, as comfortable as one could be in the presence of a young dragon. Even standing on her four feet, she could look down upon the average man.

 

Unsurprisingly, no petition was whispered in the empress’ ear. Even the newly arrived ambassador from Zazas kept his peace until dessert.

 

I had my first default on a loan, today.

 

The thought carried across the banquet hall like an intrusive thought, evoking the soft touch of parchment, the susurrus of moving pens, and bubbling anger.

 

It was within statistical expectations.

 

The entire room took a deep breath.

 

The circumstances of the default displease me, however.

 

Spoons stopped midair.

 

Among other things, the farmers were pressured into buying seeds significantly above the market price.

 

One of the merchants at the table quickly excused himself. The entire room watched him leave, some with fiery interest, others wondering why someone would expose themselves so brazenly.

 

The dragon picked a skewer. Sharp fangs pulled the pieces of meat with delicate precision. They shone strangely in the light of nearby magical lanterns.

 

I wonder, mother, how receptive you would be to consumer protection laws.

 

Monopolies should not be allowed to thrive.

 

The empress leaned forward in her seat. She didn’t look very receptive at the moment.

 

“Curious, because I was under the impression that foreign banks were encouraged not to expand here. Would that not be, as you say, allowing a monopoly to thrive?”

 

Nonsense, mother.

 

The Manipeleso Bank and Exchange keeps a fair market share.

Love this novel? Read it on Royal Road to ensure the author gets credit.

 

And besides, why would I harm the interests of New Harrak?

 

Harrak is yours, and what is yours can be mine, if I make a good enough case for it.

 

The dragon flicked her tail, then her malevolent red eyes slowly blinked in a thoroughly disingenuous attempt at seeming innocent. The empress was not fooled, though she had to admit the dragon made a good case. Viv herself having no money issue she couldn’t solve by robbing the right tomb, she had little interest in promoting ‘captains of industry’ that would spend more time consolidating a powerbase than allowing her nation to flourish.

 

“I consent, but Abe will be in charge of this project. You are… too busy.”

 

‘And biased’ went unsaid.

 

Thank you so much, mother.

 

The dragon eyed the entrance which had been freshly vacated by a running seed merchant. She stood up to her full height, head extended far above even the tallest of men. Her wings slapped open with a sharp crack. The scent of ash spread throughout the banquet hall over even the scents of the meal.

 

And with this, I bid you goodnight.

 

I feel the sudden need to stretch my claws.

 

“No murder.”

 

Of course not.

 

And indeed, no one died that night, or the next, but someone may have soiled their breeches.

 

***

 

It took over three weeks from the start to finally reach her destination. Black mana concentration increased until the heavy spice of its presence stayed on her tongue, even when she returned to civilization. The ground beneath her was dark and foreboding, and the undead here were mighty things that would give most human nations pause. Sometimes, she came across idle packs of massive beasts lounging aimlessly in the dust, between bleak hills and the calcified remains of ancient structures. She soon recognized the path she’d followed south to escape the capital city.

 

The Empress landed at the gate of a guard house. There was still the imprint of her hand on the dust, near the handle. She placed her gloved fingers over it.

 

It almost fit.

 

She remembered it like it was yesterday. She had found water and dry food here. The sled carrying Solfis had slid down the slope easily, and she’d been in a good mood.

 

So much had happened since then.

 

She flew more slowly then. The path led up, to the plain in front of the imposing husk of the capital.

 

In their hubris, the ancient rulers of the empire used brown magic to flatten the soil around the city, to show there was nothing they could not tame. Even today with the monolith gutted, the dead city stood at the center of its domain with an intimidating majesty, and the visitors must have been reminded that power didn’t come to those who were not willing to seize it. Now the entire heart of the defunct metropolis was a large black gash crawling with necrarchs, its entrails spilled over kilometers upon kilometers of ravaged earth carved by rocks the size of skyscrapers. The epicenter of an explosion that had killed a third of a continent. And Viv was going there voluntarily, and the worst thing was, she felt absolutely great. Every breath was a blessing of power feeding her, making the mana sing in her veins. Their curse was her blessing.

 

She spent a few minutes observing the landscape before resuming her task.

 

“Right. It’s time.”

 

Viv set her second to last portal. A series of short jumps later and she’d activated an entire line carrying her all the way to Sinur’s Gate and the strangely verdant and alive world that existed there. A bone construct was waiting by the aperture when she arrived.

 

They didn’t speak until they were back in front of the heart of the Old Empire.

 

//It has been almost four years.

//A short time, yet quite eventful.

 

“Felt like much longer to me.”

 

//Landscape recognition indicates we passed through here.

//On the fourth day after your arrival.

//This is where it all began.

 

“Should we go then?”

 

//Yes.

//It is time for me to reclaim Irlefen’s legacy.

//Be whole.

//And…

 

“Be a father?”

 

//Yes.

//This project has more unknowns than I anticipated.

 

“I would be nervous as well.”

 

//I do not have the nervous system required to be nervous.

 

“Sure sure.”

 

***

 

The infamous duo retraced their steps through the corpse of a great nation. Like before, they avoided buried necrarchs on the way, leaving the gutted front of the city to their right as they walked along the outer wall. Unlike last time, Viv was feeling fine and Solfis moved under his own locomotion. Neither spoke during the journey. Perhaps it was the nerves, or simply it was a time for reminiscence. Their silence was a companionable thing brought by years of working and fighting side by side. Viv needed no reassurance, and Solfis was designed without a small talk module anyway. They strode across the deserted highway along the lines their sled had sliced through the dust, now that necrarchs made flight hazardous. They passed under the extended swords of the first Imperial couple and faced the intact side of the titanic ziggurat, cloying black mana clinging to its surface visible as whorls on an already dark background. Viv retraced her steps to the fading isolation pillar where she had slept on her first night. There, she renewed the flagging enchantments, and inspected the teleportation circle drawn by Celerin Crest, servant to the legendary outlander and adventurer Oleander. Maybe they would meet some day.

 

It was incomprehensible to her. A completely different approach to teleportation than what Sidjin had come up with, which shouldn’t have surprised her since this was a skill rather than a true spell. Nevertheless, she committed it to memory. Rather than linking two places, it seemed to… propel people through something. It wouldn’t need an arrival anchor, and the range was amazing so it was a powerful tool, but each activation would be long and costly while opening and stabilizing a portal was within the reach of normal mages. An interesting note.

 

Viv slept there that night though she also set up a final return portal just in case. By now, it would still take over an hour to activate and go through every gate leading to the living lands. The total darkness of the Harrakan night sky was no longer so complete and intimidating now, and so she could see the handful of misshapen necrarchs lumbering over distant roofs. They still looked like deadly creatures, but compared to the one they’d faced in the lone mountain, they were feral, unthinking things. Lucky her.

 

She left before dawn. It was a matter of less than an hour to find the golem hangar this time, between increased physical stats and a perfect memory. She walked down the slope into the underground complex with trepidation. They stopped at the edge of it like at the edge of a sanctum.

 

Solfis’ true frame was here in all its exquisite horror. As tall as three men, armored, armed, deadly, its left hand ending in claws, the right one as delicate as that of a pianist, every available surface painstakingly engraved with runes and redundant circuitry. Solfis’ face was that of an uncaring, handsome man, a silvery mask hosting two dead orbs for there was no light there. Yet. It was still mostly intact barring a few battle scruffs.

 

Once again, Viv was reminded of her first time coming across a fighter jet. Even a village simpleton who had never seen a weapon in their life would know in an instant that this was a tool of death, designed from the ground up as such. It radiated menace.

 

It was magnificent.

 

“I didn’t appreciate how much effort Irlefen put into making every piece of you as perfect as possible. Engraving all of this must have taken… years.”

 

//It took years.

//Decades, even, before every system was optimized to his satisfaction.

//Irlefen was a very thorough man.

 

“Wish I could have met him.”

 

//So do I.

//Now, for the repairs.

//Let us begin with the left wrist ligament.

 

It took the better part of the morning for them to bring the old frame back to full functionality. It didn’t help that Solfis was custom made, and replacement parts had to be altered. Nevertheless, Solfis possessed a machine-like precision and Viv simply couldn’t fail under his guidance. He directed her when he could not do something himself, either due to a lack of mana or because of his hard-coded directives. Eventually, the charging array finished refilling the almost-empty core thanks to Harrak’s tremendous ambient mana and Viv’s own contribution. Diagnostics crystals lit up and circuits hummed. Everything was ready.

 

//Finally.

//It has been so long.

 

“Switch off, transport?”

 

//Yes.

//I am eager.