Fallen Ambitions

by Vann, Eric J.

  “My Capital Crystals maintain my place of power,” Aziel said firmly. “They are far too valuable.”

  “Your place of power is over-maintained,” Neruul replied with a shake of his head. “Four crystals could maintain it on their own. Add one more to feed Niyela’s grove—as long as they don’t get too greedy. That leaves three acting as a reserve at this time.”

  “No,” Aziel said, feeling a strange sense of protectiveness. “Those crystals are too important.”

  Neruul smiled. “A barrier will protect Soul’s Rest from more than just an attack from the Seed, Young Master.”

  Aziel considered this, but found he couldn’t fault the Ogre’i’s logic: it could of course be used to protect against other threats. “Very well,” Aziel replied, before turning away again. “We can start your instruction in the next few days.”

  “As you wish,” the old Ogre’i called after him as Aziel left the stores.

  He took a few steps into the circular hallway outside before a long sigh escaped him. Things had been too chaotic of late. With the faction’s explosive growth and the Jannatin threat, everyone was rushing to organize themselves. His ministries in particular were hiring as many people as they could. Duren alone had been taking on hundreds.

  With the constant need for his opinion or his approval, Aziel felt like he was being pulled in every direction. Making so many consequential decisions was beginning to tax him. Long gone were the days where he could sit in his place of power for uninterrupted hours.

  “Lord Aziel?” he heard Melody call to him.

  Aziel forced himself to smile, hoping the Beastkin did not notice his exhaustion. “Yes, Melody?”

  “I have delivered the bars to Grendel,” she said, pulling out a stack of colorful papers and offering them to him. They were all identical and had a small amount of mana coursing through them. “Each is worth one thousand gold and can be exchanged for gold in any Tijarii bank,” Melody continued. “They are each enchanted by the Tijarii Prime Divinity to ensure no one can meddle with it.”

  “I see,” Aziel said, returning the stack to her. This explained why there were no crystals attached to the papers to power their enchantments; an Ascended could simply infuse the paper with mana directly. “Well done, Melody. I am proud of your work and progress as my Economic Minister,” he said with a pat on her head. “But do take time to rest, I do not wish to see you overextended.”

  “Thank you,” Melody said, and Aziel noted her tail curled inward. “My lord,” she called again, just as Aziel was about to leave. “Duren is waiting for you in your study. He, Kavali, and I have been speaking together and wish to discuss something with you.”

  “Oh? Is this some kind of ambush?” Aziel asked with a smile.

  Melody smiled back, but said nothing.

  “As you wish; let us go to my study.”

  Inside, it was just as Melody had said: Duren, wearing his usual white robe, was already seated and waiting. He stood when Aziel entered and bowed his head.

  “Lord Aziel. A pleasure to see you as always.”

  “Duren,” Aziel said as he moved to the head of the table. Apart from a stack of books he had not seen before, the table was clear. Both Melody and Duren waited for him to take his seat before seating themselves.

  “What is it you wanted to discuss with me?” Aziel asked.

  “Lord Aziel, first, I would like to present you with the more-or-less complete registry of the Fallen,” Duren said, pointing to the stack of books. “Courtesy of the hard work by your loyal subjects within the Interior Ministry.”

  “Registry?” Aziel asked as he lifted the topmost book and opened it. As he did, he realized what Duren had presented him with. “Is this a record of every person in the faction?”

  “More or less,” Duren replied with a satisfied smile. “The Grauda and Arachne are harder to record due to their nature, and we have yet to account for all the smaller villages, but this gives a good indication of the current population and their self-reported vocations.”

  Aziel continued to turn the pages. Names, sex, ages, family connection and current occupation, as well as a list of useful skills—the record was extensive. It also explained what all those people Duren had hired were doing. A census. “This is good work, Duren,” Aziel said approvingly as he closed the book.

  “Thank you, my Lord. But that is not why we have asked for your time. The Registry has confirmed an issue we already suspected.”

  “And what is that issue, exactly?” Aziel asked, concerned.

  “We have a dire lack of skilled individuals.”

  Aziel tilted his head, puzzled. “I don’t understand your meaning.”

  “Well,” Melody interjected. “Each of the races of the Fallen have specializations. The Grauda are good at construction and Alchemy, for instance. This is good, but also leaves many gaps. The Ogre’i are skilled miners who have already told me of iron and silver veins they could exploit in the mountains. They are also good smiths, but they are only interested in making weapons and armor, not tools for farming or carpentry. And the scale of their creations is not compatible with anyone else within the faction.” Melody shrugged. “The same goes for the Arachne. They can create spider silk and tailor the most beautiful dresses…” Melody appeared to lose track of her thoughts for a moment, before shaking her head to clear it. “As beautiful as those dresses are, the Arachne will never be capable of supplying the faction with the all the different types of garments it needs.”

  “The problem extends to our ministries as well,” Duren added, as he leaned forward and placed his hands flat on the table. “Finding people to ask simple questions of the populace is all well and good, but finding individuals with the patience and poise to become ambassadors? The skills and composure to become spies? The education to administer a front desk and accept and check applications for permits? These are all skills we lack in the current pool of people within the faction. The absorption of Maiv may help in this matter, but not as much as we might hope.”

  “It is the same for my ministry,” Melody said with a frown. “There is a distinct lack of people who know their numbers, never mind people with the ability to negotiate effectively or keep proper records of assets and trade dealings. We are going to have issues selling our stocks and products if we don’t have people to facilitate this. I have been doing most of this myself so far, but it is getting difficult for one person to keep track of.”

  “Kavali also complained about the lack of people with experience in tactics or strategy. She has yet to appoint a single marshal—she would have appointed one of the other Ogre’i khans, but thought it best to wait for another race first. She would be with us today but the expansions of the doorways of Soul’s Rest are still underway.” Duren shook his head. “The point is, the faction is missing people to fill a large list of key positions.”

  “Could we not hire specialists from Tijar?” Aziel asked. “We are already doing this for the infrastructure projects in the south of the Central Wilds, are we not?”

  “Having specialists from another faction, even paid professionals, is a security risk,” Duren replied. “Right now, the risk is low since there is very little in the way of information for Tijar to extract, but in the future this will change. Tijar is an equal opportunity trader; they will go where the coin is. They will supply the Jannatins just as much as the Fallen during this conflict.”

  “Let’s not forget about the cost of hiring so many specialists for such a long period of time,” Melody added.

  Aziel pondered this. “I’m not sure what it is that can be done,” he admitted.

  “This type of problem would usually solve itself,” Duren answered with shrug. “People will find these gaps and work to fill them. The issue with the Fallen is that the speed at which we are expanding comes with a rising need for specialized roles. The population has not had time to adapt and meet these needs.”

  Aziel nodded. “I understand. But what can be done about it? We could b
egin training people, build and form educational institutes… but that will produce results in the future, not in the short term.”

  “Slaves,” Duren replied, causing Aziel to turn to him sharply.

  “I’m not sure I heard you correctly,” Aziel said.

  “We can purchase skilled slaves from Odana.”

  “I will not have slaves working in my faction,” Aziel said, a sudden rage flaring within.

  Melody leaned forward. “We are not—”

  “No,” Aziel interrupted. “I especially didn’t think I would hear you support this, Melody.”

  The Beastkin bit her lip before shaking her head. Her gaze met his. “We are not proposing you own slaves. I would never be a part of something like that.”

  An uncomfortable silence fell over the room as Aziel glared at them both.

  “My Lord,” Duren said, causing the attention to shift to him. “Odana raises slaves of many races, including humans and elves to fulfill many roles. Running businesses, acting as guards, spies, waitresses… and a thousand other things. Their armies are composed of slaves and led by slaves.”

  “That does not mean we should buy them,” Aziel said shortly.

  “Buy them, bring them to Soul’s Rest, then free them,” Melody corrected, her hand reaching for her neck. “You already proved you can break the collars.”

  Aziel slammed his hand down on the desk, causing Melody to jump back. “Buying slaves is the same as supporting this vile trade. It enriches those who propagate it. And what is the point of buying them, only to free them? How does this solve our problem?”

  “Don’t underestimate the gratitude that comes with being freed,” Melody mumbled, her gaze falling to the ground. Watching the Beastkin so downcast poured a bucket of cold water atop the fire burning within Aziel.

  “I understand you are against the practice,” Duran said carefully, “but this is something the Fallen needs. The faction is woefully under-staffed. If we continue like this, we cannot effectively govern ourselves for long, never mind fight a war. If we offer the slaves you free a home, a paid job, a purpose other than to serve a master… then I am certain most will choose to stay and join. I suspect they would become among the most fiercely loyal of your subjects. Especially since you would have freed them with your own hands.”

  Aziel heard Duren, but his focus was still on Melody. Her ears had flattened against her head as she stared at the ground. He loathed the idea. The more slaves he bought, the higher value they would earn for those who sold them. Those same slavers would work harder to supply more.

  Still, Duren had a point—and so did Melody. They needed people. People with skills Odana had apparently trained their slaves in. In a way, what better represented the ideals of the Fallen than freeing slaves—individuals or families taken from their homes and oppressed for generations? Bought or otherwise, if such forsaken peoples could not find refuge in the Fallen, then Aziel’s plan of building a safe haven had failed.

  “Haven,” Aziel said. Melody looked up, and Duren wore a curious look.

  “My Lord?” he asked.

  “That is the name of the city we are building. The Fallen’s capital.”

  “Haven,” Melody whispered to herself.

  “Melody,” Aziel said, “I am sorry for raising my voice. It was unwarranted.” He held his hand up to stop her from replying. “I am still unsure if I want to go ahead with this,” he added, as he stood, causing both Melody and Duren to also rise. He went to her, placing his hand atop her head; one of her ears remained flattened while the other stood half-way cocked. “If they are nearly as good as you, then this faction will be the luckiest to ever exist. Even if we go through with this and they decide not to stay and join us, then freeing them from a cycle of slavery will be enough.”

  He scratched the back of her ears, and Melody’s head tilted to one side, a low purr escaping her before she suddenly realized this herself and straightened. “Um… Thank you, my Lord, for those kind words,” she said, her face turning red.

  “It seems that you have already decided,” Duren said.

  Shrugging, Aziel gave them a half smile. “I suppose I have.” He turned to Duren. “What of the task I assigned to you?”

  “I had to use Grendel and the Tijarii network, but I have been assured my letter has reached this Cyclops character—or at least, someone close to him.”

  “Good. I want you to make sure the supplies we are putting our name to are supporting a righteous cause. I don’t want my faction’s name associated with indiscriminate killings and other crimes.”

  “I will endeavor to travel to Fermont as soon as I am able.” Duren bowed.

  “Very well.” Aziel sighed. “I wish for some time alone to think. I will be in my place of power if anyone requires me,” he added as he left the study, still feeling uneasy.

  * * *

  Aziel entered the crystal cave to find a curious sight. Niyela was there… but so too was another Dryad he did not recognize. And Niyela was wearing a set of the same wooden armor as the Crimson Grove, its detailed designs and elegant curves enhancing her already exquisite frame.

  The young Dryad turned, and her lips spread into a wide smile before she went to him. She took his hands and wrapped them around her waist before lifting onto her toes to press her lips against his. “Grove Master,” she said warmly as she glanced over her shoulder at the other Dryad, who seemed to be trying to look at anything except this display of intimacy. “I have to show that you are mine,” she whispered in his ear. “Can’t have another Dryad stealing you from me.”

  Aziel laughed before pulling her to him and kissing her again, his hands roaming lower down her back. “Will that do?” he murmured, feeling Niyela’s breath against him.

  “No… but it’s a start.” She grinned. “Come.” She took his hand and led him to the other Dryad. “This is Irene; she will be joining our grove.”

  “Oh?” Aziel said quizzically as he looked Irene over. Given her brown skin and orange hair, she was from the Crimson Grove. Although shorter than Niyela, the way she held herself gave Aziel the impression of a trained and experienced fighter.

  “In line with Blossom Rhene’s condition for joining the Guard, one of her daughters is to be planted here. That means Irene will be the first to join our grove.”

  “I see. I hope you find yourself the perfect spot, Irene,” Aziel said with a gentle smile. The Crimson Dryad smiled back, pushing her chest forward proudly, causing Aziel’s gaze to unintentionally drift down. At that moment, Niyela stepped forward and flicked Irene’s forehead with a snap of her finger. The Dryad took a sharp inward breath as she withdrew, her hand rubbing at were Niyela struck her.

  “I told you, he is my Grove Master,” Niyela said in a firm tone, then took a step back to wrap her hands around Aziel’s arm.

  “My apologies,” Irene said, her voice far more mature than Aziel would have expected from her youthful appearance.

  “Apology accepted,” Niyela said graciously. “Now move along, I need some private time with my Grove Master. I will call on you when it is time to plant your seed.”

  “Yes, Blossom,” Irene said respectfully, before bowing to Aziel and leaving.

  Aziel cleared his throat, watching her go. “Well, that was interesting. Why would Rhene wish to give up her daughter?”

  “With powerful daughters comes status,” Niyela replied with a grin. “I’m sure Rosaline is telling every Dryad she meets now that she is my mother.” The Dryad glanced at the tunnel Irene had departed into. “Are you interested in her? I can arrange something if you wish.”

  “What? No—of course not. And what do you mean arrange? Didn’t you just say you didn’t want me to be with another Dryad?”

  Niyela rested her head against his chest. “I don’t want you being with any Dryads from another grove,” she clarified. “Once Irene is part of our grove, then I don’t mind sharing you. As Grove Master, you will be bonded to everyone who becomes part of our grove.”
<
br />   Aziel frowned, realizing that he still didn’t know what being bonded with a Dryad meant. “You told me once that you felt my pain,” he said. “Is that what it means to be bonded?”

  “Mh-mm. Not just pain, though: joy, sadness, pleasure… I have a sense of your emotions as well as your general location. So will the rest of the grove.”

  Aziel suddenly felt very naked. “But I don’t believe I can sense your emotions.”

  “It is only we Dryads who can sense it,” Niyela said, before separating herself to stand in front of him. “Does it bother you?”

  Aziel wondered if she had felt a hint of his anxiety about being an open book to both her and to their entire grove. “No, it will just require getting used to,” he replied, hoping his words would turn out truthful in the end.

  The Dryad smiled, but Aziel could see something else in her expression. She knew exactly how he felt about it. “Once a Dryad joins our grove, our trees connect. As their Blossom, I can control much: their ability to reproduce, for example, and the amount of mana they can gather. It is for that reason I don’t wish for you to procreate with a Dryad of another grove—their Blossom can and probably will make use of your seed. If you fancy a Dryad of our grove, however, you can have her. I have no doubt they would find the attention of their Grove Master… exhilarating.” Aziel found his mind following her insinuations—and from the grin on Niyela’s face, she knew it. “In the end, your seed will find its way to me, even if you lay with another bonded Dryad.”

  Aziel gave a small chuckle. “I see. That sounds… good? For now, I can confidently say I have no intention of laying with any other Dryad. Especially since I have yet to give my attentions to their Blossom.”

  A long groan and the ruffling of leaves came from behind them, and Aziel turned to see a massive branch from Niyela’s tree reach down to block the entrance to his place of power.