“There are four tribes,” Vidalia said. “The fox tribe, the ibex, the harpies, and the cats. All of us are spread out over a dozen mountains, with small villages on or around each mountain and the majority of our number living hidden away in huts outside of the village limits. The physical structures of the villages exist mostly as gathering places so we can trade and share news with each other. Only a small share of people live in them permanently, usually the old people and a few families. The years have taught us that if too many of us gather together, it makes it easier for the Kingdom to find us.”
“Wait, there’s a cat tribe?”
I never saw a single catman, unless they look just like foxes.
“Oh, yeah… that last group is a bit different from the others. They tend to keep to themselves, even when we ask them for help.” She didn’t sound very fond of the cat people. “Anyway, each tribe is organized along similar lines. There is a Council of Elders who make all the important decisions. Maybe the catmen are different, I don’t know, but the rest of us rely on these Councils who debate and vote on what to do going forward.”
“Sounds kind of inefficient,” Tybalt said.
“It really is,” Vidalia replied. “Originally, the tribal councils were mere advisors to the Beastkings. Now that the last line of Beastkings has died out, there is no such leader, and each Council of Elders effectively acts as if their decisions are royal decrees. They can only make decisions for the one tribe they represent, though. That’s why, when Andric went to fight the Army, he mostly had fox beastfolk in his group. Every ibex and every harpy who fought with him, he had to persuade himself. Even the foxes were volunteers, but the Council at least encouraged them to consider joining in. That made it a matter of honor.”
Tybalt nodded. It’s impressive on Andric’s part that he had the number of fighters he did, if he had to persuade each of them personally. I think he had about as many people as the squad before Mariella and I thinned out his numbers.
“All of the decisions that each Council makes within its own limited jurisdiction also have to be debated and voted on,” Vidalia went on. “Even then, they’re prone to doing what’s popular instead of what’s best for the long term. I might be biased, because when I try to give them advice, based on seeing the future, they’re very inconsistent about taking it… but I think it’s terribly inefficient. It’s an institution bound by traditions and not suited to building a different future. Which, given that our present and past are both more scary than inspiring…”
She let her voice trail off. The little frown on her lips said everything.
Their eyes met for a long moment, before Tybalt voiced what he felt certain they were both thinking about.
“So, how do I become king?”
“With a little time invested, all things are possible, my future king,” Vidalia replied, breaking out in a grin. “All things have been working to your advantage so far. Before you meet with the Council of Elders…”
She had a detailed plan, involving Tybalt doing a great deal to build up the beastfolk, as well as building ties to multiple important factions within their community.
The necromancer thought about how to say what he wanted to say politely, then decided that since it was Vidalia, there was no point in trying to sugarcoat what he was thinking.
“Is there a faster way to get the result we want?” he asked. “We have limited time, right?”
“We do, but if we want you to be king, it’s necessary to invest the time that we have carefully. These are moves that will pay dividends and make it easy for people to follow you willingly.”
“Normally I would want to do all that you’ve suggested,” Tybalt said, groaning quietly. “But do we have the space to do that? How long do you think we’ve got?”
You can see the future, so if you say it’s enough, I’ll believe you…
“Honestly, I’m not sure,” Vidalia said. “It depends on who gets dispatched to deal with you, and there are at least a half dozen different possible configurations…”
Tybalt felt the beginnings of a headache, but he tried to keep listening. All right, I can sort of imagine why this part of the future is hard for her to know. The Divine Trust are armed, there’s different factions within the Army, the High Priestess of Astara visited me in my dreams, so she’s doing something, I’ve heard nothing from Vika other than him giving Volusia and the squad a blessing, there’s probably some sort of secret forces I don’t know about…
“I’m technically the high priest of Lord Mudo,” Tybalt pointed out, interrupting a point about how the beastfolk could deal with a specific sort of enemy. “I know that your people follow him, and I’m guessing that’s part of why they’ve suffered so much over the years.”
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Religious persecution would explain much of what limited information he knew about beastfolk history.
Vidalia nodded.
“So… why don’t I just command them to obey me, because their god said so? It actually was his intent that followers of his would be able to recognize me as his high priest. That was part of why his angel gave me this ring.” Tybalt held up the storage ring. “The fact is, I’m not sure we have time for me to become king right now. But if we can persuade the Councils to follow my lead temporarily without making me king…”
“There are risks to that approach, too,” Vidalia said slowly. “I already announced you as the high priest of Lord Mudo, to get people used to it, and I even flashed your ring around. But I still wouldn’t use that status to win people over just yet.”
She anticipated what I would do and acted on it. How helpful.
“I respect your opinion on this, Vidalia, especially because you’re local, and I’m not,” Tybalt said softly. “But you also know, maybe better than anyone, that we are on very limited time. If we don’t get the beastfolk organized and all pulling in one direction quickly, there could be a disaster. Fuck, there could be a disaster anyway, just as soon as anyone significant moves against us. The Divine Trust, the Army, even the elves for all I know… Why not use the social power I get from being chosen by a god?”
“Give us this day, O Lord…” The foxgirl spoke the words, and they hung in the air for a moment, unfinished. She concluded with a phrase in beasttongue that Tybalt could not understand. Then she continued, “So, the simple answer is that you don’t know Lord Mudo’s scriptures or any of his prayers, darling. Basic things that the least religious twelve-year-old knows by heart. We all read the same holy texts growing up—”
“Wait, how many of your people can read?”
“All of us!” she exclaimed. “What, do you think we’re some kind of savages?”
Tybalt just stared at her for a long moment in disbelief.
Most of the Kingdom’s peasants can’t read. Yet these people can? Is she just fucking with me? They’re so poor. Even Vidalia’s underwear is more worn than other peasants’ underwear. I can see right through it… How can they even afford parchment?
“Anyway,” she continued, “if you lean too hard on your high priest status, the Council of Elders could start asking questions they might not otherwise be inclined to ask of their savior. Like, does the high priest truly worship our god, or is he just empowered by him?”
“I… I have actually prayed to Lord Mudo a few times,” Tybalt said, flushing slightly. The foxgirl was obviously right that he could not easily fake being a devout worshiper.
“That’s nice, darling,” Vidalia said, giving him a quick peck on the cheek. “It’s not really the same to make up your own prayer because you’re about to die, versus saying the prayers that have been passed down among our people for over a millennium. I’m not saying I don’t think you’re the savior of our people. I know you are. But if you can’t finish our most basic prayer, you could never stand up to hard scrutiny. I already primed the Council of Elders to believe you’re the high priest when you assert it, but that’s likely going to go over a lot better if it doesn’t look like part of a naked power play. Even though those old folks don’t look it, they’re very power hungry in their own right. They’re all keen on holding onto every scrap of influence. Even, potentially, at the expense of their people’s safety.”
“They wouldn’t think of it that way, of course,” Tybalt said, rolling his eyes. Rulers were the same everywhere, it seemed. The good of the ordinary peasants just happened to be what was most convenient for their betters.
“That’s right,” she said, nodding. “They’d tell themselves they were keeping their people safe from being misled by a possible charlatan. You could have stolen the ring from a true high priest, though I will grant that your powers are a compelling argument for your authority being derived from Lord Mudo. We’ve had necromancers before, though. They’re not usually priests as well. Not since the Priest-King dynasty of Beastkings. Since then, there’s usually a separation between religious and political authority.”
That sounds like a whole history book condensed into three or four sentences. I… need to remember that this people is complex and will have to be managed carefully, in accordance with their own traditions, as best I can. Apparently one of their traditions is even reading. Fucking weird. They’re a culture of oddballs like me. Assuming that Vidalia really wasn’t messing with me. In any case, unless it’s an emergency, I have to try to avoid trampling over their practices. I’m already an outsider as it is.
The trouble would be knowing before it hit when the storm was about to arrive. Even Vidalia was a little vague on that question.
He sighed. “Finish the prayer from earlier. In Nietian, please. At least I’ll learn the most basic prayer today. I guess I’ll have to memorize a lot of scripture very quickly. But I was always a good student.”
“Give us this day, O Lord, for we know that tomorrow is yours,” Vidalia said softly. She spoke a strange sound in beasttongue. “That last word is ‘amen’ in your language. It means something like ‘truly,’ and we put it at the end of every prayer.”
“All right. That’s a good start. Now start telling me about your culture more broadly. If I’m going to lead them, I need to start understanding your people better.”
“Well, we’re a proud race,” she said. “None of us feel comfortable taking charity, and that’s going to be at the core of my initial strategy for you with the Council. We have a strong culture of gift-giving and reciprocity. They already owe you a great and terrible debt that can never be fully repaid, and everyone knows it. The one thing not to do is to ask them for anything at your first meeting. That allows the debt to build up. It makes it more likely that whenever it’s suggested that you be rewarded or trusted or honored in some way in the future, they’ll grant it, just to alleviate some of this sort of debt. There’s just one or two things that you should ask them for, because those requests will only dig the hole deeper…”
33 chapters ahead of Royal Road on Patreon.
