Chapter 198 – Empty Titles

“The road to Hell is paved with good intentions.” – Common saying on more than one world.

POV – Turchak Lamaiert

(Current day. City of El ’Mahair, Prosperian Protectorate. World of Kepris.)

Turchak Lamaiert arrived at his work just as the sun had finished cresting the nearby mountains. “Thank you, Mirta. I will see you after work. Usual time, please.” He said to his fellow Nalk’To who nodded with a little wave before guiding the carriage away. The Cher-hawk’s pulling it trilled and clacked their wide, hooked beaks as they began moving toward the stables around the corner of the plaza.

He watched them go, marveling at the shoulder tall, feathered quadrupeds. The odd, semi-avian species was native to the islands and came in a variety of hues but mostly greens or browns. Each of them had large, three-toed feet that ended in semi-blunt claws with spurs on the backs. For a rather intimidating creature, the cher-hawks were surprisingly easy to work with and had become a popular beast of burden in the island nation.

He paused for a moment after the carriage moved away, taking in the sight of the government plaza. The way the rising sun hit the whitewashed brick and plaster buildings made the whole square glow a warm yellow-orange color. After a moment, he turned and began walking to the duchy’s most central building, the capital office. The two guards standing there nodded in polite greeting, not overly formal, as he had requested.

Still, as much as he appreciated the lovely sight he had been greeted with that morning, Turchak couldn’t help but feel the same anxiety he had every day since being appointed to his position. A voice, raised as it was called from some distance, made him pause and turn. His anxiety filled thoughts temporarily vanished under the assault of a booming voice.

“Commander Lamaiert!” A well-built, middle-aged human man called and raised an arm.

Turchak smiled, walking to meet him as he ambled from a nearby food vendor’s cart. “Jumar!” The two met, both of them reaching out to clasp each other by the wrist and sharing similar grins. He waved to the two guards standing near the drop off point and they resumed their former relaxed positions, having been startled by the shout.

“It is good to see you, Commander.” Jumar beamed, his pearly white smile almost glowing against the backdrop of his dark, swarthy complexion. He had grown a beard since they had last met but it was kept neatly trimmed and tapered neatly to his ears. He was completely bald, his head seemingly shaved like many of the other balding humans of this nation tended to do when that unfortunate time came.

“You don’t have to call me commander anymore.” Turchak chided the taller man. “Not any more than I have to call you lieutenant.”

His grin turning a little mischievous, Jumar lowered his voice. “Of course, Duke Lamaiert. Please forgive this humble peasant.”

“Oh, shove off.” Turchak smacked him lightly in the stomach with the back of his hand.

“It’s been how many years and you still can’t accept the title?” Jumar’s tone was still joking, like it had been when they sat in the officer’s canteen what seemed like a lifetime ago.

“Eight years this fall. And no, it still doesn’t feel right.” Turchak sighed, his shoulders slumping a little. “But look at you! Retirement seems to suit you well.”

Jumar stepped back, giving a small twirl. “Sleep, good food, less drink and a wife will do that.” He then eyed Turchak critically. “But it seems that you are not so lucky.”

That was the understatement of the month in Turchak’s opinion. He hadn’t had a good night of sleep in years and, though he had laid off the drink, he didn’t have either of the other things his old friend had mentioned.

“Ahh, what can I say? I do my best and that’s all I can manage.” Turchak, jerked his head to the door of the capital office. “Come in for a chat? I don’t have any meetings this morning and can push some of the other work off until tomorrow. Maybe you can make me feel better about all this duke nonsense.”

Gesturing at the square, Jumar cocked an eyebrow. “I would say you have done well. The island thrives under your leadership.” He walked beside Turchak as they entered the building and began making their way to his office.

It was a truth that Turchak couldn’t deny. He also wasn’t blind to the progress they had made in such a short time. Yet, every day, despite the success he saw around him, he still wondered if it was enough. Would it ever be enough? Would it last?

“Well, it was a hard-fought change and continues to be the crux of many problems with the lords. Or the ones that haven’t gotten on board with it.” Turchak paused to greet a few of the public officials and clerical staff as they passed. “But it feels… empty.”

“Empty?” Jurman gave him a curious look. “How can it be empty when it is here? The people have tasted the fruit of your labors, and I doubt they would ever give it up for the old ways.”

Turchak nodded in concession to the point. “You are right. It’s just a feeling I have. Like I haven’t done enough for the people. Like I haven’t kept the promise I made.”

“That oath you swore to the Council of Prosperity?” Jumar guessed correctly.

“That’s the one.” Turchak confirmed as they ascended the stairs and walked down the short hall to his office.

One of the clerk’s, his secretary, greeted them. “Good morning, Duke Lamaiert and Sir.” Uminda greeted both of them with a short bow.

“Umi.” Turchak greeted in turn. “I am surprised you have returned so soon. You had until next week for your leave.”

‘Thank you Duke, Lamaiert.” Uminda said with another bow. “I didn’t want to use the rest of my time off yet this season and Coril doesn’t need me to badger him all day about getting enough rest and fluids.”

Fully stopping to have a conversation, Turchak eyed the woman. “And the kids, Kinti and Lora? They haven’t taken ill, have they?”

“I thank you for the consideration, Duke, but they are well. I think my husband caught a sickness from one of the other yardmen at the factory but hadn’t been near the kids so they missed it.” Uminda replied.

Turchak nodded. “Make sure you stop in with the payroll office and have them mark your leave as complete then. It’s easier to account for it now than having to go back after the fact.”

“Already done, Duke.”

“Well done, Umi. Let me know if you need anything else or if you start feeling unwell yourself.” With that, Turchak led Jumar into his office.

“See, that’s what I am talking about.” Jumar said after the doors closed. “That conversation would never have happened if the old duke or one of his lords was in power. They had no concept of worker’s rights or even that the average person had their own struggles and worries. To them, if you weren’t strong, you weren’t worth knowing, much less any consideration.”

“I know.” Turchak sat heavily in his chair, eyeing the stack of paperwork on his desk for him to review. “Hopefully it is enough and the Council doesn’t demand more. I have almost, almost, cracked the code on healing reforms and want to give them some good evidence of my efforts and other projects.”

Jumar laughed. “Healing reforms? What, personal property, education and workers’ rights weren’t enough? Do we need to build another portal nexus to handle personal travel while the current one handles trade? Should we pave the roads on the entire island in bricks to make the ride smoother?

“You have already done so much for this city and the island. Look around, everything that you are praised for was your doing. Sure, essentially abolishing the nobility and election reforms weren’t your initiatives exactly but you saw them through. What is left besides that?”

“There is lots to work on.” Turchak pointed to a list he kept pinned to the wall which showed all the things he wanted to fix or change. “Criminal reforms, taxation transparency and civil infrastructure all come to mind.”

Eyeing the list, Jumar conceded the point. “Fair enough. The Council convenes in what, two months?”

“Three. At the start of Growth.” Turchak corrected. The Council, which collectively ran the island nation, met annually on the first day of the season of Growth. “This will be the eighth one I have gone to.”

“Is it worth it? All this?” Jumar asked. Pointing to the small window overlooking the city center and faced directly at the temple across from the capital office.

Turchak didn’t have to think about the answer to that question. “Without a doubt it was better than the alternative.”

*****

(7.5 Years ago. City of El ’Mahair, Kingdom of Sruta.)

“Guardian Hep, I hope this is worth it.” Commander Turchak Lamaiert grumbled as he followed the young guard through an alley while dodging trash and puddles of questionable origin.

The young man walked across a wide plank that had been set to span what smelled like the source of the puddles. “It is, Commander Lamaiert. I promise it is.”

Turchak grumbled quietly to himself and opened the shutter on his Lumeball lantern to cast its light over a wider area. He had been keeping it shuttered mostly closed with only a hint of light to preserve his night vision. He had wished that the duke saw fit to have the larger light posts in more than just noble quarter and the central plaza but that obviously wasn’t going to happen.

Still wondering if he was making the right choice, Turchak followed the younger man before him. He debated turning back, resuming his post in the command center but figured it was pointless. One of the lords had all but forced him out and was running things now… straight into the ground in Turchak’s opinion. Not that either of them could do much against the ill named Council of Prosperity who had amassed their forces outside the walls of the city.

They had all seen the lights of the enemy encampment as they settled in for the night behind their fortifications. Turchak himself had personally scouted the enemy force as they made landfall on their part of the archipelago in the Sruta Kingdom. He knew from the start that there was no point in resisting, but he had a duty to his people, his countrymen.

Like so many cities before them, El ‘Mahair would fall. Likely before the next nightfall, which would be the perfect backdrop to show their city aflame as another message to the rest of the kingdom of islands.

The thoughts of impending doom were cut short as Hep knocked on a door that led to a small storehouse, judging from the sign depicting a crate and pully that hung over the door. Turchak noted the knock was 5 sharp raps on the door at an even pace. It was unusual, most people only knocked four times as far as he knew. Before he could begin thinking about the implications of different people’s knocking habits, the door opened.

“Have you brought a willing ear?” An old man asked, his weathered face being a little lighter in complexion that was normal from the area.

“One attached to a thoughtful and just man.” Hep replied.

The old man didn’t even glance at Turchak as he opened the door, stepping back into the darkness. He could see that the interior was mostly unlit except for a room at the end of a long, wide hallway. Hep strode forward, his steps confident like they always were and the commander was forced to follow along.

Turchak held his tongue, using the moment to scan the building he could see as they walked. This storehouse looked like it had once been stables and smelled like it was currently a sewer. While the smell was common for the area, the individual stalls were in unusually good shape and all had locked doors blocking the view within. All except the last one.

Hep didn’t even knock as he pulled the door open and walked in. Turchak paused, steeling himself for a fight and bumping his long knife and buckler with his forearms to make sure they were still in place. Barely a moment later, he followed Hep through the door.

Within the spacious room was a table and chair, sitting under the only light source that hung from above. The pool of light it cast was enough to see the far end of the room had people sitting behind a long table of their own, though it wasn’t bright enough to make out their features. 5 of them were sitting while 4 others stood, 2 in each of the far corners. Turchak couldn’t see any of their features, almost like they stood behind a veil to block the light.

“Is this him?” One of the seated figures asked, his tone flat and his face covered by a hood.

1 of the 4 people standing nodded and spoke, revealing it was Hep. “Yes, councilman.”

“You deem him worthy?” Asked another, this time a woman with an equally flat and neutral tone. Only her voice revealing anything about her.

“As far as I can tell.” Hep replied from the back left corner.

“Then, let us see.” The first man said. “Commander Turchak, be seated.”

That was not a request. Turchak could feel that there was a slight flexing of power in the words as the man’s presence brushed his. He instantly knew the other man was a cultivator but didn’t know his stage based on the brief interaction.

Turchak took a seat, adjusting slightly but not pulling himself close to the table. He cast his eyes over the group but couldn’t make out any features besides the three people who spoke. His inspection was cut short almost immediately as his focus was pulled to the panel of people arrayed before him.

“Caution and awareness are good traits to have, Commander Turchak.” Said one of the people at the table, the one who sat second from the right who Turchak decided to name ‘Four’.

The first one on the left spoke, earning the moniker ‘One’ from the confused and warry commander. “For all the good it would do him at this stage but yes, they are good traits.” This voice was a woman’s, but it held a certain husky tone like she had worked in a chemical factory for decades.

Three, the man in the middle who had first spoken, took over. “Let us determine that for ourselves, even the worst of foes can have admirable qualities.”

Turchak could feel it when Three switched from talking to the others to addressing him. “Commander Turchak Lamaiert, do you know the state of your city?”

“Yes.” Turchak answered, almost feeling compelled by something in the question. “It is about to be under siege.”

“Besides that.” Three said. “What was the state of your city before we arrived?”

That confirmed what Turchak had already assumed. These people were the enemy at the gates. Given that these 5 were obviously powerful, those gates may as well be left open for all the good they would do. It was hard to keep invaders out when they were already inside.

Going off instinct and a strange urge to be honest, Turchak answered. “In a word, unwell.”

“And in more than one word?” Two followed up. “What is it that makes the city unwell? Speak honestly and freely, commander.”

“Many things.” Turchak turned to look at Two, mostly out of habit. “The ruling class abuses those they rely on, with no regard for their duty as rulers. The clergy are either powerless or complicit in the abuse and offer no comfort to those who suffer.

“The streets are filled with disease and only those in the noble quarter or merchant districts have any hope of keeping their shoes inside without inviting a plague into their homes. Not more than one in fifty could list the alphabet, let alone spell their name.” Turchak paused when Four cleared his throat.

The silence was immediately filled with another question. “What is your goal in this… conflict?”

Turchak paused to think, not feeling the same pressure to answer immediately as he had before. After a moment to ponder, which he was allowed without issue, he answered. “To protect the people of this city, of our country if possible. Though I suspect that those outside the walls are already under your control.”

Not addressing the last part, Three asked another question. “If you were given complete authority, to make any changes to this city and the way it is governed, what would you want to do?”

Having dreamed of doing that for years, Turchak didn’t hesitate to answer. “Limit the nobles, uplift the people and redistribute taxes from the coffers of nobles to the city itself.”

“Hmm, to what end?” One asked. “What would those taxes be used for?”

“Getting rid of this smell would be a start.” Turchak tried to make light of the olfactory assault the slums lived in, but it fell flat, very flat. “Ummm… To build proper infrastructure, public education and workers rights. I would want to limit the nobility and tie them to positions, stripping their inheritance titles if possible.”

“Do you think that any one person is more important than another?” Three asked, the strange pressure exerting itself again.

Feeling compelled again, Turchak couldn’t help but answer. “It depends on the situation.”

“Explain.”

“A fisherman, experienced in his trade, might do more good for a town than a brewer. In that regard the fisherman is more important but their value as individuals shouldn’t be any different, only the role they fill. A single man might not be likely to change the world but, if he is in the right place and time, he can make a world of difference.”

Having given his answer, Turchak was forced to wait under the pressure of 5 gazes focused on him. He wondered if that hadn’t been what they wanted to hear and how the rest of this encounter would play out. For better or worse, he didn’t have to wait long to find out.

“Commander Lamaiert, if you were given a chance to prevent a tragedy, saving your city from the fate of those that came before, would you?” Three asked.

*****

(Current day. City of El ’Mahair, Prosperian Protectorate. World of Kepris.)

Turchak sighed, his thoughts having turned to the events of the past where he betrayed his former duke but remained loyal to his city and its people. While Jumar had long since left, promising to visit again, the questions his old friend had asked stayed to fill his thoughts for the rest of the day.

Still, for all the problems, he would make the same decision over and over. Trading a tyrant of a duke who abused his people for what he had managed to build was not a hard choice. Now that he was the duke, a meaningless title in the current age, he had to deal with issues which a duke normally would. Those issues happened to be the lords, specifically two of them at that moment.

The lords in question, those appointed to oversee sanitation and commerce, had royally messed up. Both had been negligent in their duties, failing to perform their reporting for income and expenses. That had led to an investigation and interviews in those branches of the infrastructure which revealed a series of embezzlement and abuse.

With the paperwork clear as day, Turchak had both of them stripped of their titles and forced upon them repayment of the missing funds. Their replacements had also been in the meeting, so they would see exactly what would happen to them if they tried the same scheme. Unfortunately, it was likely to happen as the people replacing them would be coming from their own noble houses and they cared more for ‘honor’ than common sense.

His secretary poked her head through his door. “Duke Lamaiert, your next appointment is here.”

“Thank you, Umi. You can send the priestess in.” Turchak said and moved his still half-finished work to the side of his desk.

A tall woman strode through the door. Her robes were of the finest silk, dyed a bright blue and trimmed with silver thread that traced the symbols of their order over the edges of the garment. Her hair was raven black and unbound, billowing out and framing her fair, though now tanned, face.

“Thank you for seeing me, Duke Lamaiert.” Farla Ohgoni, senior priestess of the new church, said in her mesmerizing tone. Turchak could feel the power in her words and her movements, the tight reign over her cultivation slipping enough for her to suppress his lower stage of power.

Gesturing to the seat in front of his desk, Turchak braced himself for the meeting. He hadn’t ever fully gotten on board with their particular brand of religion. He was still a follower of his old beliefs in that doing the right thing would pay off in the end, no matter what god took his soul in the end.

These priests, and the priestess in particular, were part of the deal when the city was ‘captured’ by the invaders. While Turchak thought it was strange that a religious order was the ones to oversee legal issues along with their more secular duties, he wasn’t in a position to push back. He figured they originated on a smaller island and the theocracy was a core part of their civilization which had now taken over the former kingdom.

Fighting back a grimace at the presence the priestess exuded, Turchak put on a polite face. “Of course, Priestess Ohgoni. What can I do for the church of the Stranded Vessels today?”