Gregor shook his head. "Quite impressive, Val. If nothing else, you have talents that would make you an excellent miner, even if you can never understand the doctrines our ancestors have used for centuries."
"Do you need to take a nap be for we push on, Val?" Sten asked.
Val grinned. "I'm okay to press on, Captain. Let's just keep an eye out, in case any specters or other horrors show up." Gregor paled at that, but nothing untoward occurred at all, and within a handful of hours they were once more entering the library of the ancient wizard's home, exchanging solemn glances as they carefully made their way to the front entrance, still blocked by the crystallized altersian stone slab.
Halvar turned to the captain. "The explosives we agreed upon might be able to shatter the stone, but again, we run the serious risk of being considered outlaws, should anyone be around to associate us with the blast."
But the captain was frowning, gazing carefully at the stone. "There might be another way. I have an idea..." deep in thought, he wandered off to an adjoining chamber and a deep grinding sound could soon be heard as the massive slab parted from the entrance of its own accord, revealing a stark nighttime sky lit by countless stars overhead and two brilliant moons, one with a crimson tint, the other pale blue.
Almost in a trance, Val took his first, tentative steps beyond the chambers that had served as his birthplace in this brave new world, shivering in wonder as he took a deep breath of cool desert air, his dwarven made boots crunching upon ground both sandy and pebbly, a fresh breeze blowing through his hair. Yet what truly awed him was the spectacle of the heavens, for the blue orb soaring above was not a dead moon at all, but one with an atmosphere. With oceans, perhaps, and continents as well. He gazed up at a planet that might be as alive and vital as the one he stood upon, perhaps with people looking down at Jordia as well.
"It came to me when we were first entering the city of the dwarves," said a grinning Sten, looking inordinately proud of himself as they made their exit from what looked to Val like an ancient Aztec monolith standing silent vigil atop a sloping hill in the middle of a vast tract of desert and scrubland. "The way their architecture was put together. Even for this altersian slab, it only made sense for there to be some way to reset the trap, if it had been used to catch thieves and the like. It turns out I was right, the controls were in one of the chambers we thought too decrepit to bother with."
Val turned his wide-eyed gaze to the captain. "One of your moons, it has a blue sky. With water below. It's a planet, like this one!"
Sten blinked, shrugging his shoulders. "Well, of course. She's Jordia's twin, Phoebe. Slightly wetter than our home here, with exotic crops and other goods we trade for regularly."
Halvar nodded like it was the most basic information in the world before grinning. "She is beautiful though, isn't she? I knew a Phoebian girl, once. The things she could do? Pure magic."
Val just shook his head. "Incredible," he whispered, awe still in his voice.
Elise nodded. "A beautiful prize, and one the Highlords fought over jealously. The one who controls it defeated three others to earn the Rite of Administration."
Val blinked. "Highlords duel for the rights to administer worlds? Are there really that many to spare?"
Elise smirked. "Psiblade duels are rarely to the death. No one appreciates just how precious a Highlord's life is more than another Highlord. And since only Highlords can use Psiblades, anyone who would dare challenge with a normal blade will meet his just fate within seconds. For a true Psiblade generates a dark rift that can cut through any material, any field, as effortlessly as tearing through a piece of paper."
Elise's gaze turned thoughtful. "Though our most ancient codices do allow any to prove themselves worthy of a Highlord's rank in a trial by combat, these were often to the death, once upon a time. Practical custom, however, assures that only those Psion masters who have proven themselves worthy shall challenge for the right to rule, the loser then swearing allegiance and service to the victor in recompense for his life. Since a Highlord is himself a valuable resource, even the most ruthless among us rarely choose to fight a challenger to the death, when they could add another valuable pawn to their forces.
"It is similar when a Highlord would challenge an Overlord for his throne, though those fights are more likely to result in deathmatches or abject slavery for the loser, and by custom, only one such challenge is made per year."
Val nodded his head. "So what's the prize for earning the rank of Highlord? Do they rule like ancient kings? With a harem to please them through the night and administrative details haunting his days even as his every word becomes law?"
Elise chuckled throatily. "Hardly, Val, except for the harem bit. Highlords are prudent in their own way. So long as no resistance is offered, he allows the existing government to rule itself as it sees fit, so long as they pay him regular tithes and offer up their best and brightest to be his workers, just as the most graceful and fair-featured offspring of his poorer citizens shall become his pleasure toys." Her face took on a pained expression. "Practically speaking, it is the smallest of sacrifices, and since the bureaucrats and merchants in place have a vested interest in stability and maintaining their own power, they are happy to treat the Highlord's presence as an additional tax, and pretty much everyone ignores the Psion master gazing down at them all from above, so long as it's not their beautiful sons and daughters who are harvested for their lord's pleasure." Her gaze turned hard. "Though it's only those out of political favor that are forced to bear that burden, and preying upon the clans of other Highlords was not something even the Overlord himself would dare. At least, not until very recently."
Val winced. "I'm sorry."
Elise smiled, shaking her head. "You don't ever have to apologize to me, Val. Not after saving my life, and at great risk to yourself."
Val grinned. "I'm glad I did. No one else can teach me about the ways of Highlords... or how best to defeat them."
Elise suddenly paled, Halvar's powerful hand patting Val's shoulder. "Enough of your dark humor, lad. Quit while you're ahead. Come, let's head to the velimobile. And Val?" Halvar's human eye gazed imploringly into Val's own. "Please, no magic inside the vehicle, okay?"
Val grimaced and nodded, all too able to imagine a crash if he were so careless as any drunk teen as to endanger his friends with an act of stupidity. "Understood."
They quickly made their way to a vehicle that looked very much like a hovercraft comprised of shiny chrome alloy, with several dozen entirely circular wheels to be seen when Halvar lifted one of the rubber-like flaps with no small amount of pride, revealing what Val looked like giant chair coasters as much as anything else. "Each is independently mounted. Over rough terrain, we'll hardly feel a bump. Almost as good as harnessing the mana currents directly and propelling ourselves by electro-mana fields alone."
Val nodded, visibly impressed. "So wait, do some vehicles actually hover above the ground completely unsuspended? Can they fly as well as hover?"
Gregor laughed at that. "Sure, Val. Why use a wheeled cart to carry your stuff, when you can just carry it all in your own two hands?" His brows furrowed. "It would take many times the energy to keep our vehicle airborne than it does to just push it along the electro-mana fields, with the wheels supporting most of our weight."
Val smirked, glad Gregor didn't feel quite the need to walk on eggshells around him as when they were totally dependent upon him to negotiate for their freedom with the dwarves. "Glad to see your personality wasn't completely scared straight by the dwarves."
The gnomish man scowled before chuckling softly. "It's true. I was afraid you'd leave us to flounder by ourselves. You didn't, and that speaks as well of you as anything else I can think of, even if you manage to say the stupidest things, sometimes."
Val grinned. "Stupid or not, when I ask you questions while we are figuring out alchemy together, I hope you will be patient in answering them."
Gregor frowned. "I wasn't expecting us
to 'figure out' alchemy together, Val. I'm sure you will have many other things to keep you busy..."
"Nonsense! I wouldn't dream of you doing all the work of fiddling with my girlfriend's chemistry set without offering to help out."
Gregor winced as Sten chuckled. "He has you there, Gregor. Don't worry, I'm sure we'll find time for you two to bond like brothers over your concoctions."
"Yes, Captain," Gregor said with the same expression as Val would associate with a painful bowel movement.
"Besides," Sten said, now gazing intently at Val. "I'm sure Val will be eager to learn the ways of the world as best he can so that no one can take advantage of him, especially if our mutual... friends need to count on him in the days and years ahead."
"Good point," Val admitted, groaning inwardly at the thought of being inundated with who knew how much information, and probably with the expectation of mastering tomes he knew his mind just couldn't quite process without magical correlations helping him out.
Val turned to a thoughtful looking Elise, comfortably leaning against Sten as their captain pulled them away from the ancient stone villa and the caverns below that had been the source of Val's rebirth and all his adventures til now. Val smiled, impressed at how Sten maneuvered them down a pitted dirt road with a fluid grace Val could never hope to duplicate, driving a luxury sedan or jeep. There was something to be said for riding on a cushion of perfectly circular wheels, even if he couldn't quite figure out the torque points or what kept Sten's vehicle from sliding right off the side of the hard-packed dirt mountain road they were now gently descending.
Val was about to ask Halvar how it all worked, but he dreaded just being handed a complex diagram and told to figure it out for himself, as he supposed was the case for most young people his age in this world.
Instead, he turned back to Elise. "Elise?"
"Yes, Val?"
"Can you explain to me how Jordian's government works?"
Even though she was gazing forward and all he could see was the silver-gold hair blowing back at him, he thought he could sense her smile. "A good question, Val. I will try to put it in as concise terms as I can. Jordia is divided into several hundred territories. Each territory is overseen by an administrator. Save for a handful of noble clans, most are either elected by the people or appointed by the Overlord in the dreadnought above our heads. Most administrators rule with a light touch, though some less light than others. Of course, any citizen is free to leave one administrator's territory for another."
Val frowned. "That doesn't sound too oppressive."
"And why should it be? The Highlords learned long ago that many conflicts can be avoided if their serfs are allowed to feel the illusion of freedom. And far better a serf's displeasure be with his administrator, whose territory they can leave as they choose, than for them to have any impetus to dare insurrection which would be extremely costly in terms of time, resources, and lost revenue for we who rule them."
Val could sense her suddenly going still. "For the Highlords who rule them, I mean. In any case, there is considerable incentive for administrators to coax revenue requirements by facilitating trade, manufacture, and specialized talent, since tithe expectations depend upon average territory revenue generation. Any administrator who did nothing to develop infrastructure and resources, yet charged a relatively high proportion of a civilian's earnings to pay his tithe requirements, would soon find himself out of serfs. And when the Overlord find out, said administrator will probably find himself in a pain vat unless he is very resourceful or very lucky."
Val grimaced and swallowed, still remembering Yuri's horrid expression when his madly blinking, decapitated head had been placed in that vat of yellow-green liquid, mouthing silent screams as he endured unending pain, the hideous magics denying him even the mercy of death.
"So the administrators have tithes to meet for the Overlord who rules over everyone, and thus they have a vested interest in keeping the serfs, I mean all of those working within their territory, happy enough to be productive and not flee, I take it?"
Elise nodded. "The administrators receive a good-sized share of the tax revenue as well, and serfs are expected to defer to them in all things. In return, so long as requirements are met in terms of flesh and trade, only should you have the misfortune to catch them in a rotten mood do you have to fear being arbitrarily abused by an administrator."
Val blinked at that.
"Let me explain. Administrators are not bound by any low laws. They can pretty much do whatever they like. But this is self-correcting. If serfs find their master's behavior too abhorrent and leave in droves, the administrator risks eternal torment at the hands of a displeased Overlord. Administrator thus tend to be discrete in their excesses, even the most diabolical. Few act to any outrageous degree against their more upstanding citizens, and families that are wronged are often the beneficiaries of fiscal restitution."
She smiled. "It is a bit different for noble clans, of course, those headed by a Highlord. They too have quotas to the dreadnought above, the same as any other administrator, but their territories are larger and cannot be taken away. They still have motivation to keep their serfs happy and productive, for the greater their territory's bounty, the less, relatively speaking, their tithes will eat into their own profits. And if a few more impoverished youth find themselves incarcerated under various pretexts, whisked away as if they never were than would be the case within an administrator's territory, few think to complain. Highlords hold sway over the lushest territories, after all, and are wise enough not to kill their golden geese. It is only those without clans or influence or wealth of any sort that are vulnerable to the mad whims of the truly decadent. Even the poor know to work hard and make their supervisors a tidy profit, so that they will be looked over for harvesting, where less productive men might not be. Not that anyone would be foolish enough to pay a Highlord's visit anything but the most servile and deferential attention, no matter how hardworking or influential they might be. Though they wish profitable territories as any man would his investments, absolutely no lord or administrator will brook insolence or disrespect from their inferiors."
Elise sighed. "Of course, no citizen dares protest the flesh quota, and the unspoken rule for almost a thousand years was that only citizens belonging to the lower strata had to worry about their children being claimed as a Psion's property."
Val's brows furrowed. "I would think that would be reason enough for insurrection."
"Hardly, Val. Even if every Highlord on the face of Jordia as well as flying overhead took a maiden as their fresh slave every quarter, that would still only affect a minuscule fraction of families. And no family may be burdened with such an... obligation more than once every century, and there are millions of families living upon this continent alone. So less than a one in ten thousand chance per year that your daughter would be claimed. Coin you would be paid, and your family would have a century free of burden. That, coupled by the fact that the most well-off citizens never have their sons or daughters harvested, means that when all is said and done, there is little enough tinder for any spark to seethe into flames of rebellion. More often than not, the youths that disappear from the streets, never heard from again, have no clan to begin with, no one to cry for their loss. That's another reason why most do not begrudge their masters the dark hunts they embrace. Every homeless boy or girl stolen away is one less son or daughter taken from a family that loves them."
Val frowned. "When you were all talking about putting me into foster care..."
Sten gave an angry shake of his head. "Don't think us so mercenary as that, Val. Even though but a few short days ago we hardly knew you and felt no connection, even then we would have assured sponsorship to a private home. You would have been safe."
"Private foster homes pay a tithe to the local administrator," Halvar explained. "This assures that hunters look elsewhere for easy prey. More often than anyone will admit, children are born to impulsive youth that a clan elder
will refuse to claim. Yet blood is blood, and even those children will be assured the chance for a healthy childhood and a productive trade. It is only public orphanages run by the territories themselves whose children are regularly offered up for the Highlord's pleasure, the price they must pay to run the facility at all."
Elise shivered even as Sten slowed down, holding her close. "To my eternal shame, there was once a time when I was as cavalier as any about Jordia's practices. Then that monster above changed all the rules. Not only are the rich now vulnerable to his... hungers, even the offspring of other Psion clans are, as he put it, ripe for discipline and training. Grooming us all for our future roles." Bitter laughter filled the Velimobile. "Some of us, I suppose, took to his training better than others."
The group lapsed into quiet, Val breathing deep of the cool nighttime air blowing past him, tasting crisp and alive with the scents of growing grass, pine moss, sage, and peppermint amongst a potpourri of exotic spices seeding the midnight air. Val grinned, feeling as invigorated and alive as he ever had, gazing at the stark beauty all around him. Like taking a road trip through the American Midwest, those parts still left wild, catching sight of sturdy scrub bush in the distance under the brilliant moonlit sky, exactly like what he would expect. A sharp contrast to the sea of flowers near the road rushing past them, almost iridescent in their coloring, petals revealing the most brilliant blues and reds he had ever seen, and Val realized he was seeing their colors with his magesight just as much as he was with his vision in a dazzling display unlike anything he had ever glimpsed before.
Val did his best to stay awake and alert, keeping a mental map of exactly where the ancient ruins were located relative to the brilliantly blooming fields and strips of desert they passed, the road they traveled as much the path of least resistance as it was any remnant of a route long since gone to disrepair. Hours passed, and Val saw no sign of any sentient life save for themselves, until at last their vehicle approached the outer stone walls of a massive villa, stark and quiet. Sten allowed the vehicle to coast to a stop, leaving his vehicle and placing an exotic looking key in a slot by the entranceway, the metal gate slowly opening as Sten hopped back in the vehicle and drove them inside.
Endless Online: Oblivion's Promise Page 14