Empire of Man

Wroth bristled impatiently all through the formalities of introductions to the village elders and setting up camp. He’d done his best to hide it though and not draw attention to the fact he found their behavior toward Lyla exceedinglystrange. It dampened his already naturally grim mood.

“Oh, don’t mind her. She does that to get attention.” The middle-aged headman had assured the soldier when he caught Wroth staring after the retreating forms of Lan, Lyla, and Caleb following behind the only person in the village who seemed to care about Lyla’s condition. “Isn’t that right, Healer Mayard? Oh, do come up and meet our visitors.”

Visitors? Wroth wondered peevishly. Visitors that, that ill girl already nearly died to bring here. He focused his attention on the skeevishly handsome newcomer who was presented to him. Immediate dislike flooded Wroth as the stranger’s smarmy personality was reflected in his too-practiced too-perfect, too-charming smile and the expressive way he gestured with his hands as he spoke.

“Unfortunately, that is true.” The tanned and toned healer confirmed with an empathetic and slightly sad smile that revealed too-white too-straight teeth for him to be someone born and raised in the High Passes. “Our Lyla does pretend to have these fits for attention. I’ve told Old Reane time and again to not indulge the child but…”

He spread his arms wide with a shrug and a raise of both his eyebrows in what he probably thought was a look meant to entreat others but only made him look more disingenuous to Wroth. After too long a pause during which Wroth did not choose to supplement the healer’s statement with any false conclusions as Mayard had intended, the village elder chimed in for him.

“What can one do? Women just don’t listen to reason sometimes.” It was said hastily as if Wroth’s failure to participate in whatever script the healer was trying to write was an affront to this man. Whomever he really was, the captain was damned sure that he wasn’t a legitimate healer. And he certainly wasn’t the healer on record for the village with the Regional Magistrate, son-of-a-necromantic-whore that the man was. Wroth cursed the Magistrate even as he thought of his existence.

“Mmm…” It was the most non-committal sound that Wroth could make. He didn’t like this man, nor the village elder, and he certainly didn’t like their views on women. Wroth would have to warn his soldiers about this.

They’d known before leaving the capital about the patriarchal nature of the culture here. That’s why he’d avoided the normal nearly fifty-fifty mix of women to men in the military for his detached unit. Yet, this was decidedly worse that he’d been led to understand and it made him worried for the safety of the few women who had come with him.

There were only two women in his group, one a mage, and another a regular calvary woman. Both cut their hair short for convenience’s sake, were young, and could easily be mistaken for pretty men while in unform if one didn’t look closely or speak to them. The mage would probably be left alone.

But the calvary woman…? Already, Wroth knew that Fionna was going to be…well…there was no wayanyone would mistake her for a man when she was out of uniform. And she had no problem educating bigots on how well women should ‘listen to them’. Strenuously and painfully if necessary. He’d have to start a pool going for how long it would take before she hit someone –

“Ah. Commander Wroth.” Wroth felt his attention being diverted back to unpleasant reality and away from thoughts of watching one of his best soldiers pummel this Mayard character into – he was doing it again… “This is Healer Nathaniel Mayard . While he no longer lives in the village, he regularly visits us with the seasonal caravans that come through.”

“Greetings Mister Mayard.” His eyes narrowed even as he plastered a false smile on his face. He travels with the caravans, does he? “You are a seasonal traveler? How fortunate that you escaped the fate of so many caravans that you are here now. And how fortunate for us that there is an extra healer in this village for us to rely on as we seek out those who have been ambushing and slaughtering the caravans.”

“Oh yes,” The man’s smile faltered only fractionally. “It is quite fortunate that I am here.” Though he was agreeable, it was clear that Mayard had no intention of further elaborating.

But maybe Wroth was being too harsh. Maybe Mayard traveled with othercaravans. Maybe he was waiting for a caravan to make it through so that he could begin his seasonal travels.

“It was quite the epic tale of his harrowing and righteous escape from danger.” The village headman quipped helpfully. “Our very own hero running here to warn us of danger despite the danger he was in.” A predatory smile crossed Wroth’s face as he turned a speculative eye back toward Mayard. Perhaps we won’t have far to look for information to track these bandits with after all.

“You will have to regale me with the story of how you came to be here instead of with the caravan that we just had to burn the remains of.” It was a trick, he didn’t know for certain that the man was supposed to be with the caravan. He hadn’t had a chance to talk with Lyla about him and maybe never would. Is that way she suddenly took ill again for no apparent reason?

“Ah…yes…” Umm hmm. This guy is so dirty I can smell his guilt. Then his mind caught up with what Wroth said. “Why did you have to burn them?”

“Blood Orchids.” The soldier supplied. Nathaniel seemed not the least bit surprised to here that the dreaded plant had been found so far from its native habitat. He merely nodded as if it were to be expected.

“You were aware that someone from the caravan had traveled to The Jungle Valleys?” And there it was. The startlement on Mayard’s face, the guilt that he’d been found out.

“What? No. It just seemed natural to me to assume that the fiends who did this would be from someplace far away and wild.” As fun as it would have been to pick apart Mayard’s lies, Wroth was distracted by shouts from the field over by where his soldiers had been directed to set up camp.

“Curse the Absent Gods, this one’s a SLUT!” The shout came loud and clear and Wroth shook his head.

“He should not have said that. Excuse me,” Wroth gave a slight bow to the village headman even though his position did not warrant one and turned toward what he was certain was Fionna about to start a massive brawl. “I need to deal with this.”

“What’s going on?” The village headman’s voice was shrill and panicky in his concern. “You brought women with you? I thought you brought soldiers.”

“I did bring soldiers.” Wroth didn’t stop in his turn and began striding toward the commotion as he heard someone getting backhanded. Hard. He began jogging quickly.

“Did you just impugn the honor of an Imperial Magus of the Secondary Line?” A clear high voice rang out with rage above the tumult that was quickly rising.

“Oh, shiiot!” One of Wroth’s Mages shouted.

“Get out of the way.”

“Run! Oh, shit! Run.”

Wroth could just imagine

“Lindowyth Von Meridian,” Wroth shouted.

“I. Cast. Firebal-” Lindy’s voice was deafening and a bright light came from her now lone petite figure. Her short auburn curls flew about her head with the crackling of magic as she summoned the spell.

“Your commanding officer orders you not to cast fireballjust because some hillbilly bigot doesn’t know how to say the word woman.” The commander’s words echoed over the cries of terror of the villagers. And the gathering darklight of her magic ceased suddenly.

“But, my honor.” Her almost petulant response was comical and she winked one glowing bright violet eye at him showing she’d had no intention of actually casting any spell whatsoever and had merely been scaring the idiots who’d been getting ready to cause issues because… you know…females. Wroth tried not to chuckle. And failed.

“I’m sure an appropriate apology will suffice.” He offered, grateful that she had set a standard that the women among the soldiers would not take bigotry lightly. It meant less change that Fionna would have to fight with anyone.

“He will have to mail one to my father as well. You know he will learn of this and if he doesn’t receive an apology before I return home and tell him that I wasn’t permitted to kill the man who falsely accused me of…not being a lady, he will return here himself with my brothers to restore my honor.” Wroth cocked one eyebrow as Lindy let the glow of magic fade from her eyes. Laying it on a bit thick, aren’t you? He thought, then was surprised when she responded in his mind.

‘Their culture doesn’t respect women in and of themselves. Only by them knowing that there are men who will defend me, my father, my brothers, my commanding officer, and fellow mages, and soldiers, will they acknowledge sanctity of my independence and worth. The higher in authority the men who represent me, the greater their respect for the female property of those men.’

Her thoughts were tinged with disgust. ‘I can hear most of their thoughts. The only thing that keeps the men here from raping any woman they want is how much they respect another man’s property. If they don’t respect the man, they won’t care how he feels about how they treat his women.’

“Headman.” Wroth turned to the village elder. “The man who slandered my Magus has offended me, my Magus, my soldiers, and dishonored my entire command. I’m sorry. We must leave.” He turned back to his soldiers and strode into the little city of tents that were already mostly erected. Swirling a pointed finger high above his head he bellowed the order. “Pack it up.”

The headman stuttered in bewildered protest for a few moments.

“WHO did this?” His shout couldn’t match Wroth’s bellow and Wroth grinned with feral delight at how upset everyone in the village was. Their murmurs of concern a poignant counterpoint to the solemnity of his soldiers.

Okay. There was the occasional grin or snigger from one of his soldiers that was silenced with a quick wave of his hand or a curt nod. For the most part, they had all caught on. Quietly, with very little mirth showing on their faces, the soldiers began disassembling the camp they had just unpacked and assembled. They were quick and efficient.

“Here. Here. Is the culprit.” The village headman was directing two men as they shoved another down at Wroth’s feet. He hadn’t even paid attention to their approach. “What are you waiting for? Apologize to the commander.”

“Apologize to my Magus and retract your slanderous statement.” Wroth corrected. “Retract the lie you shouted about her to the entire village and her fellow soldiers. Then present one in writing that I can return to her father and family.” Now he was laying the performance on a little thick himself, but if Lindowyth was telling the truth about how their minds work, and he knew she wouldn’t lie about it, this was necessary.

“I apologize.” The man, in his thirties, flinched and swallowed nervously as Lindowyth walked up beside Wroth.

“To her.” Wroth snorted with disgust. The dirty disheveled villager in old linen clothing shifted his attention to the petit mage.

“I apologize. I retract my lie. You are not a slut. I don’t even know you. I just called you that because…you are not a man…and are not married…and are among a group of men.” The flat expression on Lindy’s face showed that she was not appreciating the apology. “I apologize for stating a falsehood and im…impu…impugning your father’s honor…”

“Annnddd?” The village headman prompted.

“And the honor of your family line, and your honor, and the honor of the company of your fellow soldiers.” Wroth put up a hand.

“Enough.” It wasn’t much. But it was enough to justify not completely abandoning an entire region of the Empire for. “Leave us while we set up camp.” Though if Lyla didn’t survive whatever had been done to her, Wroth was sorely tempted to leave these people to the fates.