Sara left Selliana's ir some few hours ter, exhausted in mind and body. The witch was certain that she'd learned quite a lot about Evie's modifications to the colr's bond, but refused to divulge the information then and there. Selliana wanted time to process her findings, consult old resources to confirm certain theories, and only then would she send Ketch to Sara with what she'd discovered. Frustratingly, she did preemptively answer Sara's most pressing question, which was whether or not the colrs could be destroyed:
No.
Selliana cimed that peering into the colr's workings was like trying to understand what made the sun burn by staring directly at it. Not only was it impossible to discern anything of use, it was actively dangerous. Sensing Sara's frustration, she brought out several of her damaged tools as evidence, three thin metal wands melted into an unrecognizable mess by direct exposure to the colr's power.
Though seeing the damage did make her more amenable to such a non-answer, Sara still had to restrain herself from informing Selliana that actually, there was a definitive answer to what made the sun burn, and it wasn't exceptionally complicated. A part of her kept feeling like if she just drilled into the heads of the people of this world that reality was far more pliable and comprehensible than they thought, they'd finally accept that the impossible was usually anything but.
Yet while knowledge of things like what drove the sun's fires was something she might have casually shared with someone like Evie or Nora, sharing it with Selliana? An accomplished alchemist, a powerful mage? Absolutely not. Only the gods knew what someone of Selliana's skill would be capable of, armed with knowledge of something as votile as hydrogen or, god forbid, nuclear fusion. Sara had to imagine turning theory into practice would be a time consuming process, but once the witch had a working method of accumuting elemental hydrogen, all bets were off. Sara wasn't eager to unleash this world's first Hindenburg Witch.
When she returned to Ketch's father, sans the still-addled Ketch, she found him happily humming away at the table full of seaweed, piecing together another set of that remarkable clothing. Sara was rather thankful for the underwater nature of their environment, certain that her legs would have been shaking if she'd tried to stand on dry nd. Birl greeted them warmly, offering her a seat in a stone chair he'd found somewhere, then unched into a discussion about Sara's desire for him to make more clothing.
It was mid-afternoon by the time Sara crawled out of the harbor with Evie, giving several passersby on the street quite a fright. A purely mundane exhaustion had sunk into her bones, Sara never having expected how long she'd be away. She'd been awake (mentally, if not physically) for well over twenty four hours, and she wanted nothing more than to sleep. She and Evie wetly slopped their way to the closest of Ketch's old safehouses, which they'd been using ever since the Sporaton attack, and fell face-first into bed.
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When Sara woke the next day, head pounding and mouth dry, it was with a prayer of thanks to the gods above for giving her the foresight to schedule the day's main event for sunset. It was nearly noon by the time she mustered up the courage to roll out of bed, which gave her seven solid hours to unfuck herself and attend to whatever was still achievable on the day's agenda. She briefly wondered if she ought to put more points into her Constitution, next time she got a chance. Surely it would help in circumstances like this.
She and Evie dressed with mutual resignation, accepting that there would be little to salvaging of the day's morning itinerary. She'd need to hurry to even make it to her next appointment, a meeting with the carpenters that volunteered to transition to shipwrights for Nora's navy, and soon after that she was to put in an appearance at one of Ignite's training sessions for the Guard.
Even the dullest members of the so-called "City Guard" were beginning to realize that their swelling numbers and thorough training were entirely unnecessary for simple w-keeping, which meant she was long overdue for the official commencement of the Tulian Army. It was going to start as a volunteer-only force, despite the vehement protests of Evie and Vesta, whose eloquent arguments only wrung the concession out of Sara that she wouldn't straight-up outw conscription as she'd originally pnned. She still held out hope that enough would volunteer to make such draconic measures unnecessary.
Sara and Evie crawled out through a hidden hatch in the home next door and made their way outside, giving a friendly wave to the baker and his family that noticed them casually emerging from an abandoned building. It was growing more difficult to move about Tulian undetected, with its growing popution, and Sara knew Evie had already mentally abandoned the safehouse they'd just used as compromised. With how rapidly the city was repoputing they'd need a defensible base of governance sooner rather than ter, especially if Lady Vesta was to be believed.
Vesta's first action upon arriving had been arranging a rapid and messy census, little more than riders running about to various vilge leaders and asking how many lived there, the tally of which added up to a very shaky estimate of thirteen thousand thinking beings within a week's walk of Tulian. Vesta suspected the true number was considerably higher, as many of the vilge heads would've lied, anticipating a greater popution leading to a greater tax demanded of them. Sara wasn't going to operate like that, of course, but her various promises had thus far been spread only by word of mouth, a method which tended to leave out boring bits like tax w. Sara vaguely recalled that the meeting to discuss prospective methods of disseminating official government edicts was in two days or so, but she wasn't sure. Evie would keep her on track.
Though her te start meant she missed quite a bit, what she could attend to went smoothly. A few of the older carpenters cimed to have shipwright experience, if only in the roundabout fashion of supplying certain products to the shipyards back in the day, which was encouraging. Her announcement of the Tulian Army was met with a curiously subdued reaction, though thankfully not due to any reluctance on the Guard's part. It had just been so btantly expected that the troops essentially nodded their heads and asked if that was all, or if they should get back to their duties. It seemed that more than she would've liked had been overheard in her meeting with Captain Vidanya, and rumors of war were spreading like wildfire.
The troops were also far less nervous than she'd have expected. When she asked Ignite about it, he answered rather frankly that they knew they'd be led by a Champion, and so thought they had little to fear. Sara's abilities were unknown to them, beyond the fact that they must be legendarily powerful, so rumors flew fast as lightning any time a hint of Sara's "true powers" were involved. Those that had fought with her before knew the effects of Champion's Inspiration and were eager for more, naively eager for war.
For every ounce of faith the soldiers put in Sara's capability, her confidence wavered in turn. She was no general, nor leader, nor even a true warrior, at least as this society saw it, having picked up the bde mere months ago. She was someone who'd been shoved up the ranks by the brute force of her status as a Champion, any powers Amarat granted her doing so very little to aid in the world of warfare. She was certain beyond doubt that if she could bring King Sporatos to the negotiating table she would end the war then and there, but that would require putting up enough of a fight to even warrant consideration. At the moment the tyrant King saw Sara and her so-called nation as a bug just intriguing enough to be worth crushing underfoot, and in many ways, he wasn't wrong. Her stomach kept doing flips on the way back from the training ground, anxiety getting the better of her even as Evie tried to drill her for the meeting ahead.
Sara eventually spped her cheeks and shook her head, narrowing her attention on Evie's instructions, because this was one gathering that couldn't be skipped. All of her scattered allies were finally together in one pce, ready for the discussion that would set their course for the foreseeable future.
She and Evie reached The Peasant's Theater a half hour before sunset, nodding their greetings to the bolstered Guard contingents patrolling the surrounding streets. The Peasant's Theater had been a literally named building from the days of Old Tulian: an alternative to the expensive opera houses frequented by nobility, where performers who couldn't hack it elsewhere reluctantly plied their trade. It had originally been just a stage in one of Tulian's few grassy parks, but ter had been improved with sturdy walls and a roof angled to take the brunt of the increasingly common typhoons of Old Tulian's final years. Built with the storms in mind, it had weathered them well, and so Sara decided it would be an excellent pce for her seat of governance. Not only was a Peasant's Theatre delightfully thematic, the structure was utilitarian, one of the rgest open interiors in the entire city. Soon walls would box off and divide it into a a plethora of small rooms connected by cramped hallways, but at the moment it was nothing more than narrow seats arranged in a semicircle before one raised ptform.
Hurlish had already arrived and begun her own preparations, which apparently involved ripping the front row of seats out of their mountings, dropping them into a circle on the stage. Sara joined her, figuring it best to avoid any sembnce of a lecture that might come from her standing on the elevated stage, while Evie ducked off to collect reports from the Guard members that were posted near each entrance. The feline never let Sara out of her line of sight, always close enough to be at her side in seconds, if need be. Sara had noticed that the title of 'bodyguard' was slowly taking priority over Evie's other duties in her partner's mind, her natural paranoia bolstered by the Sporaton attack.
The rest of the attendees filtered in over the next forty-five minutes or so, appearing in piecemeal fashion. Most of the representatives of Tulian's skilled crafters arrived early, as a group, heading straight there after their day's work was done. They would represent the bulk of the meeting's popution, but were mainly present only to contribute opinions on their ability to get Tulian's military-adjacent industries up to speed. Following them was Ignite, personally escorting Lady Vesta while Tarlin remained with her children, and not a minute ter was Voth, still dressed in armor fit for battle. Nora naturally couldn't attend, not without leaving half her brain in the sea behind her, so she sent the once-drunkard Captain B'Leary in her pce. The white-bearded sailor that Nora had motivated with death threats seemed to have lost some of his beergut since Sara st saw him, which was encouraging, but it would remain to be seen how useful he'd be to the discussions. After B'Leary was Ketch, who apparated as if by magic in one of the chairs on the stage. She was attending mostly as Selliana's representative, though she was a powerful Irregur in her own right. Sara exchanged mild pleasantries with each person as they appeared, but little more, saving her energy for the discussions ahead.
When the st of the st had filtered in, Sara finally sat down. The others broke up their conversations and followed suit, and Sara was privately pleased to see that their was only a brief bit of thought given by the participants as to who sat where. Factionalism would inevitably develop, Sara knew, but for the time being she'd done an excellent job promoting the idea that all present were equals. Evie was the st standing, completing one st tour of the entrances before returning to the stage, sliding into Sara's p with arms wrapped around her neck for support.
"Alright," Sara said with a cp, an inelegant beginning to such a fateful moment. "While I'm sure most of you are already aware, I'll start things off by confirming it for you: The Kingdom of Sporatos intends to invade at the end of the rainy season, with the goal of having the entire nation under their rule in a few short months."
Most nodded passively, accepting the words with grim determination, while only a few of the industry representatives appeared shocked. Sara allowed them a brief moment to absorb the news, then continued.
"The advantages the Royal Sporaton Army has over us are many, but they aren't overwhelming. I've told you all before, whether it was in a speech to the public or in private, that Tulian will never be under the thrall of a tyrant so long as I live. While I obviously would have preferred this war to never come, I knew from the start that it was inevitable, and I've been taking appropriate measures from the very start. Commander Ignite, if you'd like to begin with a report on the status of the newly formed Tulian Army?"
Ignite nodded sharply, moving to stand from his chair, a motion which he barely arrested after remembering Sara hadn't done so to speak. She'd told everyone in the letter that summoned them here that she wanted an open conversation, not a series of reports.
"The Tulian Army is not cking for recruits, ma'am, but only when considered as a matter of fractions. Nearly all the Tulian Guard has made clear their intention to transfer from civil duty if allowed, but the Guard itself totals only five hundred. An impressive force for discouraging banditry, but not an army."
"And I've got a hundred and fifty on my payroll, in case you didn't read my reports," Voth said, leaning back in his chair. "Most of 'em even have a skirmish or two under their belts, but that won't mean much when King Sporatos marches ten thousand spears down our throats."
"Vesta's census tallied thirteen thousand citizens in easy reach of the city," Sara said, "But she thinks the real number's more than that, right?"
Vesta nodded. "Indeed. Given my experience with censuses and the rushed nature of this survey, I estimate that the true number is at least twice as high. A truly accurate count will be months in coming, but I have begun the process already."
"What about demographics? How many of that number are of fighting age?" Sara wondered aloud. She looked at Voth. "You've been recruiting in the region for a little bit. Assuming we've got, say, thirty thousand farmers around Tulian, how many troops do you think we could muster?"
Voth's lower jaw worked in thought, a more obvious thing with the way the motion moved his tusks about. "No guarantees, but I'll put a bet on two thousand people volunteering. Maybe twice that, if you loosen things up so the older folks can join, but that's got its own problems."
"Five thousand, then," Sara said, both out of forced optimism and having long since accustomed herself to the fact that she wouldn't be leading an army of prime fighters. "Vesta, do you have any idea about the size of the army Sporatos will bring?"
"I will defer that question to one with more expertise," Vesta said, nodding her head back to Sara. In her p, Evie stirred.
"For a spring campaign such as this one, Master, I would expect a force simir to those used by the King to subjugate the coastal city-states in the early days of his reign. Fifteen thousand, perhaps, built upon a small core of Irregur cavalry, the kingdom's Knights. His treasurers would not consider this war a conflict worth employing mercenaries, and so I find it incredibly unlikely that we need prepare ourselves to fight the Night's Eye Mercenaries."
Sara chewed her lip, absorbing that information. "Well. I might be exposing my own ignorance here, but that's way, way less than I expected. Why so few?"
Those with military experience looked at one another, trading bemused expressions. It was Ignite that eventually answered.
"Ma'am, that is a rger force than has been assembled on this continent in some twenty-five years, and a rger force than was assembled by anyone outside Sporatos in fifty. It is only by virtue of their immense popution that they can afford to bring such an army to bear."
"Damn. Guess I'm still thinking like I'm back in my old world. The armies of the st big war there were ten to twenty million, or something like that." She waved the notion away, ignoring the aghast expressions of everyone save Evie and Hurlish. "Well, it still means we're doing better than I expected, but I'm curious: if we can get four or five thousand under our banner, why can Sporatos only manage fifteen thousand?"
"A matter of politics and logistics, Master, as with all in war," Evie said. "The nobility will not wish to contribute more of their peasants than what they view as fair, and the conquering of such a supposedly weak foe will not engender much sympathy to the war effort. Further, Tulian is many weeks march from the bulk of the kingdom's popution, pcing an ever greater strain upon their baggage train with each passing day of travel."
"Home field advantage. Makes sense, I guess. Gd to hear we won't be facing down an army with more people in it than our entire nation."
Voth, ever the pragmatist, snorted. "Fifteen thousand or a hundred thousand, it won't matter. You're fighting the Royal Army, Sara, and you're goin' in with a third of their numbers. You can count on one hand how many battles in all of history that've been won when the odds were that long."
Sara's eyes narrowed slightly. Voth's training of his informal army had proved incredibly valuable thus far, but not enough so that she'd tolerate such cynicism in front of the assembled representatives. Many of them were lifelong civilians, unfamiliar with a soldier's habitual pessimism, and would take the assessment far too literally. She cocked her head, feigning confusion.
"And yet you've seen fit to throw in your lot with me, Voth? How strange. I'd have thought that if you really believed this war was unwinnable, you'd never have attended this meeting."
He shrugged, unconcerned by the barely concealed steel in her words. "You're a Champion, and that means something. It's a long shot, but I ain't gonna miss my chance to see the show. And besides, if you win, I'll have the easiest job on the continent. Nobody'd fuck with us after we trashed Sporatos."
His concession, though crass, soothed the audience's edge she'd felt building after his initial prediction. Sara nodded, moving to the next item on the agenda Evie subtly held, hidden from the others behind a hand so that Sara would look at least a little bit more self-sufficient.
"What about training? We've got six months, give or take, and there's a lot we can get done in that time. How experienced is the Royal Army?"
"Their nobility and Knights are exceptionally skilled," Vesta provided, "And many of the commanders are veterans of the coastal campaigns in their younger years. Having met many of them personally, I will attest to their analytical intelligence, if not their social graces. "
"But the bulk of the army? The peasants?" Sara asked.
It was Evie who answered. "They will be effectively untrained, Master, beyond the basics of marching and maneuvering in formations. I understand from prior conversations that you intend to prepare your military to the greatest possible extent, as was practice in your old world, but this is not a common philosophy. Peasants are kept in line by the martial superiority of Knights and Lords, a bance that would be upset by allowing the serfs to garner genuine skill upon the battlefield. To arm the peasantry is to ensure a fatal rebellion, as history has shown on numerous occasions."
"And no one ever considered just... not being shitty enough to warrant rebellion?"
Evie smirked. "No, Master. You are a rather unique ruler in your belief that the peasantry are more than capricious yabouts, ignorant fools who would gleefully cut the throat of their future so its blood may sate the thirst of today."
"Yeah, well, all the better for us." Sara gnced at the agenda, chancing upon a good segue. "Voth, if you won't fight the Royal Army yourself, what do you think of being in charge of recruiting and training? You can tour around the countryside putting down bandits and recruiting, and when you feel a group is good enough, you send them to the capital for me to integrate into the main army."
"I think it's damn weird to have my opinion asked on my orders, for one thing," Voth said with a chuckle, "But it sounds like a good gig. Won't be hard to find volunteers, so long as you keep the coin coming. But you'll have to remember that the further I get, the longer it'll take for any reinforcements to reach you."
"We'll have you start far away, then, and work your way back until you're closer to Tulian by the time the invasion starts."
"Sounds like a decent enough pn to me."
"Good." Sara looked at the next issue, that of procuring enough equipment to arm the Tulian Army. Thus far she'd managed to equip every member of the Guard with at least a front-sided chestpte, steel sword, and leather cap, but doing even that had her relying heavily on inconsistent foreign equipment looted by Nora. Hurlish was a hell of a smith, but even she couldn't pound out five thousand full sets of armor in a matter of months. They'd need industry, and what's more, they'd need Sara's definition of industry, not the loose collection of masters and apprentices that formed the Guilds common to this world.
Sara turned to Atanya, a woman whose barrel biceps and singed gray hair marked her as a former member of Old Tulian's Bcksmith's Guild.
"Atanya. How much do you know about the concept of standardization?"
The woman blinked, eyes opening wider, as if she'd sleeping with them open. "Standardization? How do you mean?"
"Making everything to one standard. Every piece of armor, every sword, every link of chain and everything else you can imagine, all built the exact same way, every time, no matter who makes them."
She scratched her ear, gncing to Hurlish, who she'd probably expected to be the one handling any of Sara's questions regarding smithing. When Hurlish didn't say anything, she cleared her throat.
"Well, can't say I've heard much about it. Sounds a bit daft, you ask me. Wouldn't you just end up making the skilled folk do crap work, while the young folk couldn't keep up?"
"Not if you train them all from the ground up for it," Sara said. "Which is what I want you and Hurlish to do. I want my entire army decked out in the best gear you can consistently provide, and I want every part of every set to fit in anyone else's. You'll have to do things like chestptes and helmets by generalized sizes, of course, and have a separate range for orcish troops, but I want as much as possible to be the same on every st set."
Atanya's eyes gnced about the room as she shifted nervously in her seat, hesitating before she spoke. "With all due respect, ma'am, smithin' things in that fashion would be a waste of my time. A waste of anyone with real talent's time, too. We can do better."
"You can, but you can't do enough, not on your own, and especially not when you're working to a master's standards. But that's beside the point, because I don't want you personally doing this work for long. I want you training some people to smith armor, armor, and only armor, and ignore every other skill they'd need to do anything else. A different group you'll train to make swords, and another you'll train for things like nails, hammers, and saws, basic tool type stuff. The ones you train will be the ones cranking out the mass-produced stuff, and once you've got them self-sufficient, you and the other Master Bcksmiths will be working on custom armor for the army's Irregurs, where you can really flex your Skills."
She chewed on that for a while, looking none too pleased, but eventually sighed. "Makes sense, I suppose. Not gonna say I'll enjoy the work, but I'll do it. Dunno where I'll get so many apprentices, though. That'll be a pain in the ass."
Sara cocked her head. "Why would it be? They'll be on the government payroll, and I intend to pay well."
Atanya chuckled. "You're gonna be payin' em to learn? Really?"
"Why wouldn't I? They're working for me, so they get paid. That's how it works."
Atanya's smile faltered as she realized Sara was serious, then grew wry. "I've heard you were a strange sort, ma'am, and I'm right pleased to see it for myself. Can't say I ever heard of anyone paying their apprentices, instead of the other way around, but hey, it's your coin. I ain't gonna say no, and neither are the kids, either. Hope you've got a good way to keep from going bankrupt though, between the armor and the wages."
"As a matter of fact, I've got several. Vesta, is your report finished?"
"A preliminary overview only, but it is comprehensive enough for discussion."
The former Lady Vesta, now just Vesta, pulled several rolled scrolls from a carrying case, clearing her throat. "Analysis of salvaged Old Tulian records show that annual grain production is well above Sporaton average, owing to the wet climate, and after our discussions regarding the taxation schemes you view as 'morally acceptable', I have prepared several proposals, pending the acceptance of both yourself and the farmer's representative, who I believe should be in attendance. Are they?"
A man wearing a mud-spattered set of clothing simir to suspenders raised his hand. Vesta tipped her head in acknowledgement, turning to face herself between him and Sara, and continued on.
"Per Sara, there will be no ft tax applied to arable nd, to avoid the overtaxing of those negatively affected by chance and misfortune, a requirement that necessitates extensive alterations to preexisting tax codes, and instead taxes will be taken as a percentage of net positive grain harvested, the net gain being defined as any grain over the amount required to sustain the members of one's household through the dry season..."
The conversation continued on, drifting towards ever more practical and ever more dull topics. Sara had to force herself to pay attention for much of it, but force herself she did, because there was no shortage of occasions to insert herself for crification. Most present were so accustomed to the various abuses of their prior feudal lords that they'd never considered the practices unfair, requiring Sara to repeatedly axe proposals that would have been incredibly beneficial to her, yet disastrous for the people of Tulian. It was a novel experience, to spend the majority of her time arguing to her own detriment, but it was necessary.
Sara could sense Vesta's growing frustration with the limiting of governmental power in the press of her lips into a thin line, but she never outright objected. Sara had never been subtle when it came to her views on the purpose of the Tulian government, and Vesta was too logical to argue that Sara's policies did anything other than achieve the goal of promoting commoner's independence. The economic margins that the new Tulian government were operating on grew thinner with each passing edict, but Sara was adamant that not only was it the morally just thing to do, it was the only way to build the loyalty of a people who'd had no national identity for the st decade. Vesta, Evie, and the other more conservative figures may have been able to poke an occasional hole in the economic validity of her proposals, but never in those two core tenants.
As the discussion ground on, however, Sara found herself sinking into mencholy. The actual task of forming a provisional government was proceeding exceptionally well, the months all involved had to ruminate on their ideas bearing fruit, but that wasn't what set Sara's mood.
It was the smaller things, instead, that snagged in Sara's thoughts. The little injustices inherent to such a primitive society, the sorts of things that she couldn't fix with flowery speeches and exotic legal codes. Things like the reduction on household tax per each child, which she'd proposed should include pregnancies that were due before the next tax assessment, so the family wouldn't unfairly miss out on a tax break to help them with their new kid. The others had looked at her rather strangely for this, and when Sara hadn't understood, Evie had quietly expined that a pregnancy progressing seamlessly to a healthy child simply wasn't common enough. Miscarriages, stillbirths, and sudden infant deaths were the norm, not the exception. Sara had mutely retracted her objection, subdued.
And that was far from the st such issue Sara encountered. Many of the crafters were literate only in the technical sense, having to boriously sound out most words unreted to their trade, and the knowledge of hygiene and medicine among everyone, even those highly educated like Vesta, could be summed up as "if you're sick, go to a healer". When Sara asked Captain B'Leary what caused the tides, given this world's ck of a moon, he had shrugged, expining that tides occurred at random, a supposition Sara severely doubted, no matter how hard the pattern might be to identify. It shouldn't be a surprise the rise and fall of the ocean hadn't yet been calcuted, though, not when arithmetic was a talent to be proud of, algebra squarely in the realm of schors, and calculus not yet invented. How could a simple sailor be expected to consider something like frequency periods, when they were still using their fingers to count?
Most egregiously to Sara, who had nearly five years of advanced construction work under her belt, was that engineering as a discipline was almost entirely experimental: build it small, and if it doesn't fall, build it big. If you wanted to get fancy, you could add supports where it started to sag, instead of waiting for it to colpse and rebuilding it. Eborate structures like cathedrals and the King's Keep relied on magical reinforcement for their construction, a two-sided boon that left most thinking such complex construction was impossible by any other means.
Making it worse, many of the gaps in institutional knowledge were things Sara couldn't solve herself. She didn't have the slightest damn clue how to do calculus, and while her anatomy knowledge far outstripped the average, her medicinal experience could regretfully be summed up as "if you're sick, go to the doctor". Any modern pill or surgery was obviously impossible to replicate, and even the basics would require a lot of rediscovery on her part. Pure alcohol was a disinfectant, she knew, but how did you make it? Was it some extreme version of brewing drinking alcohol, or an entirely different process? She knew she'd do a lot of good expining germ theory to the commoners as a way to curb disease, but how many schors would believe more outndish things like sterility when she didn't have a microscope to prove it?
Any time the meeting psed into quiet for a time, or didn't require her direct input, those were the things occupying her mind. She knew she should have taken more pride in the success happening around her, but so often the small steps served to reveal how far the road stretched ahead. Even if she could win the war-- which was no guarantee, for all the confidence she outwardly dispyed-- there would be a lifetime of work left just to bring Tulian up to a standard she considered "liveable". Her only small hope was that magic would help bridge the gaps, and in that regard, she just so happened to be Tulian's most experienced mage. She didn't count Selliana, because Ketch had both repeatedly assured and warned Sara that the witch was unlikely to py a role beyond what was necessary to protect herself and Ketch. Yet again, Sara found herself wishing for Garen by her side, the week they spent in mutual acquaintance earning far more of her trust than was reasonable.
The meeting dragged on despite her preoccupation, eventually coming to a close some six hours ter. Among Vesta's staff that had fled with her had been a stenographer, one who knew the spell to copy writing from paper to paper, so Sara had ordered each participant to be sent home with a copy of the meeting's notes, as well as the original to be preserved for posterity. She had realized with some bemusement that the meeting, humble as it felt to her, would likely be seen someday as Tulian's own Decration of Independence. The so-called government they'd just spped together was little more than a tangled mess of tax codes and delegation, but it was a step, the first one before all the rest could follow. Sara left the Peasant's Theatre with an odd swirl of emotions warring within, hope and doubt and fear all refusing to meld into a single outlook, as if oil and water had been thrown into a blender.
She walked in silence for a good while, Evie and Hurlish familiar enough with her by now to let her process things quietly, knowing she'd speak up when she was certain her thoughts were stable enough to discuss. They were padding across the Tulian cobblestones, the night's stars brilliant enough to light their way, when Sara gave up and sought distraction.
"Y'know," she said, "I really do miss the moon. It's weird how empty the sky feels without it."
Hurlish sniffed. "I heard you mention that thing earlier. What was it again?"
Evie answered offhandedly for Sara, speaking from her perch on Hurlish's broad shoulders, mostly preoccupied by her searching of the shadows for danger. "Another world that hung in the sky of her old home, if I recall. Isn't that correct, Master?"
"Pretty much," Sara said. "It wasn't a living world though, like this one. Its surface was pure white powder, and you could see a bunch of craters on its face, from meteorites-- I guess you'd call them shooting stars-- hitting it. Depending on how the sun nded on it each night, it'd either be a big white sphere, a half circle, or invisible. It was a pattern that looped once a month or so, which is actually how people tracked the months, before calendars."
Hurlish chuckled. "What, they couldn't count days?"
"Why would you, when the sky did it for you?" Sara was walking with her neck craned up, tracking the stars above. Without electric lights to drown them out, the stars were dense, blending into a powdery streak in the sky's southern half that didn't quite resemble the milky way she knew so well. She ughed a little, shaking her head. "My dad would have gone crazy to see this world. There's enough differences that he could have spent the rest of his life digging up dirt samples across Tulian without ever running out of stuff to study. Well, if he had his b tools, I guess."
"Your dad really studied rocks?" Hurlish asked doubtfully. Evie, up on her shoulders, was still too busy staring suspiciously into the night to properly join the conversation.
"He was a geologist," Sara confirmed. "Someone that studies the nd to find out how it got to be the way it was. He used to joke that his job was like someone living on the wrong side of a mountain range trying to find out what was happening on the other side."
Sara watched Hurlish's brows furrow, piecing together a polite way to say what she was thinking. "That sounds like the kind of work that not a lot of people pay for."
Sara ughed. "We weren't rich, that's for sure. He worked at Wayne State as a professor most of the time, which wasn't the most prestigious. He still liked it, though. When you're stuck with talents that niche, you can't be picky about finding something that puts food on the table."
Hurlish sniffed. "Can't believe he could find a job studying rocks, no matter how bad it paid. You gonna open a rock college in Tulian some day, in honor of your pa?"
"A university, yes, for geology, no. Something a bit more general, to start with. It'll be a while before people need to specialize that hard. When they were figuring out the basics on earth, one scientist could study a half-dozen things and discover new stuff in all of them. I can't imagine there's enough knowledge in this world for a one year course on geology, much less the twelve years he spent in school."
"Wha-- Twelve years? Your dad spent twelve years in school for rocks? "
Sara nodded. "Five years for a master's degree, which is admittedly a year slower than most, then seven for the PHD, the big degree. And keep in mind that's after he spent twelve years just getting the basic education everybody gets when they're kids."
Hurlish scratched one of her tusks. "Twelve fuckin' years of school? That's how long everyone spent in school? Did you do that?"
Sara made a face. "I mean, I was supposed to. I kind of... dropped out early. Illegally. And then worked underage for a buddy's buddy, learning welding at a joint that was also, uh... questionably legal."
Hurlish boomed ughter, spping Sara on the back. Evie hissed and dug her cws into the orc's shoulder for stability, but if the orc felt the pinprick daggers, she didn't show it. "Look at that! Champion Sara, founding a kingdom straight out of a life of crime! That's some folktale shit right there."
"Hey, it wasn't straight out of crime. I went legit, eventually."
"Oh yeah? How long ago?"
Sara thought back, adding the months since she'd been dropped into this world. "...Five years ago, ish? Got a job for the city when I turned eighteen, doing some Section 8 infrastructure stuff, with gig work on the side."
"Oh, five years ago, that's practically ancient. No way anyone'd go after you for crimes that old, right?"
"Look, the worst thing I personally did at that job was tax evasion, alright? And that's mostly because they only paid in cash, and my sixteen-year-old ass sure as hell wasn't going to ask my dad how to pay taxes on a duffelbag full of twenties."
This, at st, was enough to garner Evie's attention. She abandoned her scanning of the streets for a brief moment to squint down at Sara. "You did not deposit your earnings in a bank, Master? You kept them in a bag? "
"I was a kid!" Sara threw her hands up helplessly. "I thought the bank people would turn me in or something! I just hid it in the attic insution and grabbed a wad when Dad wasn't home."
"Master, you've said your nation used paper currency, yes? What were to do if there was a fire in your home?"
"Maybe tell the firefighters and bribe 'em to try and grab it for me?" After a pause, she sighed defeatedly. "Honestly, I'd probably have panicked and cried really, really hard. Like I said, I was a kid."
"You were sixteen, Master. I had killed two in self defense by that age, and was already managing accounts with values rivaling entire townships."
"And I bet that sucked shit, didn't it?" Sara countered. "The way I see it, I'm trying to build a nation where any dumbass kid can get away with the crap I pulled. What are we fighting for, if not to let future generations make awful decisions in a world safe enough not to screw them over for it?"
Evie snickered primly behind a hand, while Hurlish's "Ha!" bounced off the cobblestones.
Recovering herself, Hurlish said, "I tell you what, Sara, I don't know how this whole country-building thing is gonna work out, but it's sure as shit gonna be weird. I'd bet all the money in that bag of yours that you're gonna be the first Queen who ever committed tax evasion."
"I'm never gonna be a Queen, remember? We just decided I'll be called Tulian's Governess, an interim Ruler until our borders are secure. After that, I'll probably just be... I don't know. A diplomat, I bet, or maybe an advisor to whoever gets elected. Not in charge, at the very least. I don't have the chops for that."
"You picked a weird way to live for someone who thinks they can't be in charge," Hurlish noted.
Sara shrugged. "The difference between then and now is that there'll be someone else that can do it. I'm not special, once you take away the Amarat stuff. I'll gdly hand the reigns over to someone with a cooler head on their shoulders. Until then, I'm not gonna let people keep suffering because I'm too scared to give it a shot myself. Better a bad solution now than a good one too te, right?"
Evie sniffed disdainfully. "Master, if I may be so bold, I think I will disagree with your self-assessment. You possess both basic empathy and a willingness to admit when you are wrong, which eclipses half of all the nobility I have ever met. When it is considered that you are educated, skilled, and have the support of a goddess? Those I would consider your equal in potential, if not present accomplishments, are very few."
The location of their temporary home for the night, another one of Ketch's old hideouts, appeared ahead. Sara trusted Evie's senses that they were alone in the streets, but picked up the pace regardless.
"I appreciate that, but the problem with competent people, especially when they're on the other side, is that they have a tendency to end up in charge. I'm just hoping we win the war before someone with half a brain ends up in control of the Sporaton army."
"I assure you, Master, King Sporatos is not the sort to relinquish control of his military. He is too paranoid that their bdes would be turned against him, especially with mere months having passed since the rebellion my mother supported was at his throat."
"And is he stupid enough for me to beat?"
"His line expanded Sporatos by military might, and he is not a fool when it comes to military matters, but neither is he a genius. He relies upon doctrine and precedent to guide his actions, a textbook general in the most literal and derogative of manners. In a word, he is predictable."
Sara scanned the street for herself as they reached the safehouse door, then slid it open and hurried inside. Evie hopped off Hurlish's shoulders and followed. The building was empty, little more than stairs leading down to a locked celr with a padded bed, and Sara's voice reverberated in the small space.
"Let's hope he is, because he sure caught me by surprise with this invasion. I mean, I'll admit it's the smart thing to do, but that's exactly why I didn't expect him to do it. What if he ends up surprising us again?"
"You have already taken measures to guide his actions, Master. Vidanya will certainly be revived by the priesthood for interrogation, and you pyed the part of an erratic madwoman well. King Sporatos will believe himself to have every advantage, and will take haste to press this illusory superiority."
"I guess," Sara grumbled, kicking off her boots. "I'm not gonna rely on him being stupid anymore, though. Fool me once, and all that."
"That is just as well." Evie reached into the bag on Sara's hip, pulling out a book and several rge sheets of paper. "Now, shall we begin?"
Hurlish groaned. "Y'all are doing that shit tonight? Can't you give it a break, just once?"
"No," Evie said.
"Ugh." Hurlish flopped onto the mattress, grabbing two pillows and stuffing them over her ears. "Whatever. I'm gonna start pounding iron at sunrise every day, just to get back at you two."
They ignored the orc's compints as Evie id out the paper, which contained a rough topographical map of Tulian and its surrounding terrain. Noted across it were the defensive structures Sara had decided should be constructed during their earlier sessions, with Evie controlling a hypothetical Sporaton army camped at the paper's edge. She smudged out the date on the paper's top right, advancing it by a week, then looked Sara in the eye.
"It is now the seventh week of the siege, Master, and there has been no word of Voth's return. As you elected to disperse Nora's ships in an effort to resupply your stocks of food, you no longer have the aid of her marines should the city's walls come under assault. Over the past week, I have elected to move two groups of sappers up by two hundred yards..."
Sara didn't know if she would be truly ready for the war that was to come, but at the very least, she'd be as ready as she ever could have been. She picked up the textbook, a manual on sieges, and began to consider her next move.
