Chapter 614 - Interlude - Iona - Overthrowing the Tyrants VII (Patreon)

Iona had forgotten how convenient it was to fly around on Fenrir's back. The distance of hundreds of miles was just a short flight away. Now that she was on ground, on foot, it was a far harder journey. Inhuman stats or not, there were trees, mountains, rivers, and a distinct lack of a path.

The Valkyrie had tried to go back to her roots and simply walk from one place to the next. It was the traditional method, allowing the Knight Errant to visit all the small villages that rarely saw justice or outside assistance, the ones that were all too easy to skip over from the air and neglected by the king's men. 

That natural assumption had crumbled in the utter lack of roads. There weren’t even rarely-used merchant paths. There wasn’t an ancient trail that nature had mostly reclaimed.

There was nothing. The [Lifebringers] had thoroughly erased the backbone of civilization when they restored the world, turning over the good with the bad as they brought an explosion of life. Animals had carved out game trails through the thick woods, but there was no promise that the paths went anywhere.

Iona tried, but it was like bushwhacking through forests that hadn’t seen intelligent life since the dawn of the world. She was a [Warrior] and a [Paladin]. She had solid woodscraft, but she was no [Ranger].

It took a week of stubbornly grinding forward before the [Paladin] gave into the inevitable, and simply flew over the forest, looking for signs of civilization.

It was the deep woods. Anyone living there would’ve seamlessly blended in, only being found if they wanted to be found. Anyone cutting down trees for farmland would be seen from the sky.

Iona flew around, looking for trouble, and trouble found her. A flock of maaradactylus thought the shiny flying object was food, and descended on the knight. Iona let her handleless blades spread out around her - [Shards of the Moon] - then reinforced them with [Glimmering Stars].

Part of her was briefly tempted to let the sharp-toothed flying dinosaurs gnaw fruitlessly on her armor, but that was brutally crushed and put to the side. She held her blow until most of them were in range, then her blades exploded in motion.

Mentally controlling every one, Iona went for the exact same precision strikes on each dinosaur. She could’ve just killed them all in a single blow, but the practice against a ‘real’ target was invaluable. In unison that would make a ballet company weep, her blades swept through the left wing joint of each dinosaur, then the right, before piercing their chest through the heart, then looping back for a decapitation strike. 

Twelve by twelve, they tore through the mostly unleveled flocked like butchering meat. Iona kept a careful leash on herself. It was all too easy to give into the savage impulse to cruelly shred the maaradactyluses, but she knew the more she gave into the bond-given impulses, the harder they’d be to shake off when she did need discipline and control. 

Iona had heard stories from Elaine of when the flying dinosaurs ruled the skies. How they’d descend upon the helpless and devour them. From farmsteads to cities, from poor to rich, every citizen of Remus had flinched when the skies darkened.

It was arguably even worse now. People didn’t have the experience looking to the skies. Every flock Iona cut down now was one less terror that would multiply and become a generational scourge.

Her travels continued as the [Valkyrie] wondered where she could do the most good. She’d spent time all around the world, some places more than others. Nina had trained in Nippon-Koku, Exterreri, the Han Empire, and Vollomond. The [Paladin] had to admit she didn’t know nearly enough about Ralakar and the cultural nuances to properly dispense any sort of justice or to protect people.

Omospondia… now there was a place Iona had rarely been to. The entire place felt like a snake’s den, and she wondered briefly about Iya. The naga had tried to recruit Elaine in a hilariously transparent ploy, and Iona still wanted to facepalm at how it had nearly worked. Her wife was far too gullible and trusting at times, which Iona loved about her. Absolutely infuriated her at times, but the purity of heart and soul was deeply attractive. 

Iona angled herself north, and took off towards the so-called Monster Confederacy. Orcs and ogres, goblins and nagas, arachne and gorgons, Omospondia was one of the better cultural mixing pots of the world. Which was the nice way of saying ‘the violent misfits nobody wanted as neighbors were all exiled to the same place.’

It was not a nice place, and Iona constantly felt torn when she thought about it.

She was sworn to protect the meek and be the shield for those who couldn’t defend themselves. But when the majority of the country was proud about who and what they were, when this year’s [Downtrodden Farmer] was next year’s [Overseer], it felt like nobody truly qualified. They didn’t need her help, they were perfectly capable of overthrowing their own leaders themselves, an all-too-regular occurrence.

It was hard to justify a group as ‘meek and defenseless’ when they were busy brewing poisons and sharpening knives. It was a frank wonder the entire place didn’t starve.

Iona knew that part of her analysis was prejudice, and her understanding was poor. Now was a good time to correct that, and see how far the elven and demonic influence had spread.

The [Paladin] took her sweet time traveling, visiting people she found along the way, seeing new skills and ideas she could bring back to Orthus. Her blessing let her see all skills, and knowledge of a powerful skill existing could be brought back, told to people who possibly had the right class, and with that knowledge, they could work towards the skill themselves. 

One day, I’ll have to make an effort at this, then ask Elaine to write a book about it. She thought. 

A [Farmer] had a hilarious [Plot Armor] skill that worked double-duty at protecting him and his crops. Auri would love the lady with [Flaming Fashion], both her sense of style and clothes on fire. It wasn’t just elvenoids that could have good skills. A chicken had [Chicken Run], another skill with two effects. 

Iona flew down to the [Farmer], going slowly and at a distance. Her armor was off, but she was confident she could catch his [Kill Shot] if needed. Everyone needed a skill to defend themselves from the wilderness in this day and age. Her weapons were stowed on her back, her glaive point-down. Even being as non-threatening and disarming as possible, the other [Fieldhands] - the older sons and daughters - were gripping their tools a little tighter, ready for an explosion of violence. 

Logistics was hell.

“Hello!” She called out, her blessing automatically translating for her. “I’m Iona, a wandering [Knight]. I’m hoping I could trade a few hours of work for food and a place to sleep tonight.”

Iona couldn’t carry weeks of food and her armor and her weapons and spare clothes and coins and the thousand other things needed on her own. Not without a massive application of [Telekinesis] bringing it all along in a swarm of bags, or Fenrir with his cargo netting.

Plus, this was the best way to investigate an area. See if there were monsters, of the elvenoid or other kind around. See if there were problems in the area that a [Knight-Errant] could solve. Improve lives, one step at a time.

The [Farmer] eyed her suspiciously, a half-dozen faces suddenly peering out from the farmhouse and barn at her. His wife and children, possibly a few more relatives. Iona smiled disarmingly, and could practically read his mind and thought process.

High, HIGH level Classer. Armed, weapons. If I say no, she can just slaughter us all and take everything she wants. She’s offering to pay in work. There’s only one choice I can make here. Might as well take advantage of the ‘offer’, and get away with minimal problems. Best keep the troublemakers away from her, there’s no telling what will set her off.

The last part was pure speculation on Iona’s part, but what large family didn’t think they had a troublemaker or two?

Iona hated how her level ended up coercing people even if she didn’t want it to, but that was a fundamental truth of her profession. At level 256 or 1256, an armed and armored [Knight] was a terror. The best she could do was be polite, charming, and as non-threatening as possible. 

“Could use some firewood.” The farmer said after a minute of chewing the thought over. “Trees over there are good for it. Try not to fell anything onto the fields, it’ll kill the crop.”

Iona wanted to roll her eyes. She knew enough about farming and lumberjacking not to make such a trivial mistake. And asking for just a bit of firewood? A small, token ask. This was a good time to show Iona’s sincerity.

“Would you mind if I felled the entire section of trees and turned them all into firewood?” She offered.

The farmer eyed her speculatively, turning and spitting over his shoulder before answering.

“Well, I reckon if you’re going to go that far, might as well keep some trees whole. We’ll turn them into planks later.”

Iona smiled.

“Unless you’ve got anything else, I’m going to get off to work now.” She said.

A half-dozen pair of eyes watched Iona slowly - by her measure - walk to the woods. Her dozen blades detached themselves and spread out around her like a deadly metallic flower, and she started to speed up as she hit the woods in question.

She vanished in a flash, three trees falling before the first wave hit the ground with an earth-shaking thud. That signal marked a bunch of excited yelling from the farmhouse, followed by more yelling when the lady of the house ordered everyone back to work.

It took Iona 20 minutes to chop down all the trees in a significant-sized field. Another 30 to trim all the branches and turn some of the worst trees into firewood, and 30 more to haul everything to a clear spot next to the barn. 

With a full gaggle of kids dogging her steps with wide-eyes - the parents had clearly given up trying to keep them focused on their chores - Iona went an extra mile, ripping up the tree stumps. She debated making the field entirely ready by ripping out the rocks, but no. The odds of them using the field this year were slim, and it wouldn’t do to hand everything to them. Iona did break up the largest rocks, making next year’s plowing of the new field go from ‘nearly impossible’ to ‘difficult but manageable’.

Years worth of labor done in the span of a few hours. 

Iona went from ‘suspicious stranger’ to ‘trusted friend’ in the time it took to cook dinner, and was utterly besieged at the table by the kids.

“How did you do that?”

“Could I do that?”

“How old are you?”

“Are you going to stay here with us?”

“Why here?”

“Can I see your sword?”

Iona smiled and entertained all the questions with good grace.

“Skills, maybe one day if you work hard and listen to your parents, older than you think, only for the night, because this was the place I saw, be careful with it, it’s not a toy.”

The conversation flowed smoothly, and Iona had a slim hope of leveling up [Social Lubricant]. Unlikely in such a low-stakes environment, and the [Dragonslayer] was more about the good conversation. During a brief lull, she managed to get in another question of hers.

“Are there any big predators or monsters in the area giving you problems?” She asked.

If Iona had asked when she landed, she would’ve gotten a polite brush-off, a message that they were fine. If she’d asked earlier, they would’ve told her to not bother and waste her time and effort.

By now, she was nearly family, and only mentioning her age and flexing her marriage tattoo had stopped the wife’s speculative looks between Iona and one of her older sons. 

“Pack of raptors have gotten almost all the goats.” The farmer said. “If you could take care of them, that’d be mighty nice.”

When Iona went to sleep that night, there were no more raptors in the area. She woke up to two bulging bags of food, and it took her twenty minutes to extract herself from the pile of kids before she was on her way again.

===============

Iona had put on her armor before landing near Sahel, the city. She was less than impressed that the city was named after the rulers. It seemed like too much of an ego trip, but perhaps it was easier on people. At the same time, Omospondia’s reputation led her to believe she’d be stabbed and poisoned before the sun had set. Iona knew the reputation was possibly wrong… but she wasn’t going to enter the city without her plate. And helmet.

The city had banners flying. The Sahel family banner was flying under the New Remus Empire’s banner, one of the reasons Iona had picked this city to take a look at. Sahel had done well in the aftermath of the Immortal War. Most mortal nations had fared better than the Immortal nations, only being hit by ‘spillover’ for the most part. It didn’t mean places hadn’t been utterly devastated, simply that it hadn’t been as targeted as the Immortal nations.

She landed outside the city and worked her way through the thriving shanty town outside the city walls, trying to get a feel for the place. Orcs stuck together in muscled packs around their stalls, flexing their muscles like it’d scare off [Thieves]. Which, Iona noted with some amusement, was working. Fat ogres shouted their wares with a club in their hand, flashing jewelry hanging from their tusks.

“Goat skewers! Goat skewers! Come get them! Hot, spicy, fresh off the fire! Goat skewers! You, lady, you’ll love them! Come get a bite!” One of the [Merchants] aggressively pointed his club at Iona, who shrugged and stepped over.

“Sure, how much?” She asked in a guttural language that had the ogre’s eyebrows flying up and his jaw dropped so much his jewelry almost fell off his tusks.

“For one who can speak The Tongue? Ha! Absolutely nothing! Friend, take as many as you’d like!”

Iona tried to protest, but the ogre wouldn’t hear any protests. The blonde relented and took one, the spices playing on her tongue.

Some of the [Guards] stared suspiciously at her winged helmet, and Iona got to watch a young [Thief] be too slow, too low leveled. Justice was swift and brutal. The young goblin boy was brought screaming to the guards, who put his hand on a stump. A swift swing of the sword dispensed a version of justice, and the only help the goblin got were jeers and vicious kicks.

Iona started to wonder where she was going to draw the line. Nina’s decisions and philosophy had caused her to reexamine her own in depth. New culture, new people, was such an injury on a thief caught red-handed worth intervening? Was it so intolerable versus other justice systems to step in? Did the punishment fit the crime, and was the intervention worth the cost? The [Guards] dispensing the punishment, then violently fighting through layers of protection and attempted subjugation - did the price in blood balance?

That type of thinking was also dangerous. It was all too easy to turn a blind eye to atrocities on the logic of ‘this wasn’t worth intervening’. To allow the small problems to continue unchallenged.

Iona wasn’t going to lose her shit on a single injustice in an unknown culture. She wasn’t going to turn a blind eye either. Her thinking and beliefs were continuously evolving on the topic.

She envied Elaine’s pure certainty and comfort with her [Oath] these days. Iona had been sure and confident until Nina had challenged it, and most of a century later, still grappled with the question.

Her current thinking was bricks, bricks loaded onto a camel. Iona wasn’t sure exactly why she’d come up with a camel instead of horses or some other reasonable beast of burden, but there it was. Every problem would be seen. Every problem would be recorded, another brick piled on the beast. Should enough bricks be stacked up, then the camel’s back would break.

Of course, a large enough brick would break the camel’s back on its own.

The barbaric justice was a regular sized brick. Camels could carry a good number of them, and it was relatively clean. An item that could be directly laid at the feet of the rulership of the city.

Iona made it through the outskirts, making it to the line for the city gates. Children could be seen here and there, industriously working with their parents. It didn’t even qualify as a brick. Children the world around had to pitch in and contribute as soon as possible. Elaine’s tales of that not being the case in her world were an aberration. 

As the Valkyrie approached the gates, she was less than amused to see the occasional person skipping the line entirely. At first she thought there was a priority queue for certain personnel. Sanguino, for example, had three different lanes, and Rangers, Sentinels, and other government officials could breeze past the line entirely. One of the perks of working for the Senate.

That wasn’t the case here. The line skippers simply handed a fat purse to the [Guards], who waved them through without an inspection, directly pocketing the sums instead of in the more secure strongbox. Nobody blinked at the open bribery and corruption. Clearly, it was just part of the way things were done here. 

Open corruption was a few dozen bricks. It significantly harmed the smooth functioning of society, no matter how often people protested it made things ‘easier’. Government functions were now a matter of wealth, not merit. Corruption was difficult to fully stamp out, and Iona didn’t begrudge rulers who tried but didn’t always make it fully work. Allowing it done so openly, without fear, that it was a natural fact of life? Not alright.

Nor was it alright for the guards to be openly intimidating one of the [Traders]. A werewolf from Vollomond down south, scrawny dude.

“This isn’t nearly enough.” One of the ogres complained. Her arachne partner - an elvenoid like a spider-human hybrid, much like centaurs were horse-human - scuttled closer, the [Trader] flinching away from the spider legs.

“Nooo… not enough at all…” He hissed, his legs starting to feel up the cart. “Another 64 arcs, at least.”

Iona had seen the size of the ‘tax’ paid already, more than twice as much as anyone else coming in. The only difference she could see was the race. He wasn’t a ‘native’ of Omospondia, so they were charging him more. The man was directly in front of her in line, and Iona stepped in to correct this injustice.

“Excuse me, is there a problem here?” She drew herself up. She was a little shorter than most of the guards, but just as wide if not wider. 

She also had more levels than all of them combined, and her smooth helmet ‘stared’ at each of the guards one at a time. The [Paladin] took great efforts to not be intimidating, because she knew she was fucking scary.

This time, she was trying to feature in their nightmares. 

One of the orcs started to take offense, fear giving way to anger, but the rest had gone cold at her intimidation. The ogre slapped his hand on the stupid orc’s chest, holding him back, as the arachne scuttled backwards. The ogre weighed his words carefully.

“No problem here, lady knight.” He said. “Was just seeing if sir trader here wanted an armed escort in the city. It seems he’s not interested. Let them through!” He tried to press the trader’s bag of coins into Iona’s hands.

She weighed right and wrong against each other and accepted the coins, promptly returning them to the werewolf as they silently crossed through the gates.

Iona waved off the thanks and wanted to roll her eyes at the gentle probing if she was willing to be a hired guard for the rest of his trip.

“Best of luck to you and your wares.” She told the werewolf in flawless Thogic, then moved on.

Iona didn’t have any particular goals in mind. She just wanted to wander around and see the place. Get an idea how it worked. She decided to go from high to low, and wandered over to the noble district, where the mansions were large enough to build a dozen apartments in the same place. 

She wasn’t even allowed to walk the streets. Nervous private guards politely stopped her.

“Lady knight, could we escort you to your destination, and I assume you brought your invitation?” A goblin asked her. Iona didn’t squat down to his level. Raccoon had taught her it was considered rude, and Iona weighed the odds of that transcending national borders and decided to stay still.

“I don’t have a destination or an invitation. Was hoping to do some sightseeing.”

The awkward looks all around told Iona the full story. People weren’t allowed to just ‘take a look’ at the homes of the nobility… the private security was simply trying to figure out a polite way of saying it without offending the towering Classer.

“I’ll take my leave then.” Iona made it easy on them, turning on her heel and walking away. She smiled under her helmet as they all breathed a sigh of relief at the same time. 

Iona wandered the streets of Sahel. There was an actual school, and not just a ‘wealthy children go here’ one. The games and lessons clearly had additional layers and subtext she didn’t understand from her brief observation of the place, but it was a mark in the place’s favor. It wasn’t enough to remove any bricks, but maybe the camel was a little stronger.

Debts were inherited, and what little Iona could pick up about the practice had the poor camel weighed down more. A way for the nobility to tighten their grip even further? A system so easy to manipulate as to make it impossible to escape, nevermind it was a child’s great-grandmother taking on the debt, everyone from that point guilty?

No, it was no good.

Water was plentiful and free, a grand civic service Iona deeply approved of. Massive aqueducts throughout the city, no price on water in the parched environment? Most excellent. The water tasted a little sweet, but every town and every well had its own flavor. There was nothing foul Iona could detect in it, another big concern in cities.

The Valkyrie couldn’t confirm the rumors that the nobility could get away with literal murder, but it didn’t surprise her. In places where it existed, the nobility usually enjoyed a number of legal privileges. Iona knew her perspective was somewhat tainted from growing up in Rolland, where such privileges were ingrained into the cultural psyche.

A few more bricks, possibly a large number of them depending on how it was used. There was a difference between a noble being theoretically able to get away with murder, and actually getting away with murder. A member of the aristocracy who blatantly killed without the long arm of the law getting involved was likely to incite unrest, and the nobility would self correct before an armed uprising did it for them.

There were almost no violent fights, and most arguments were at a reasonable tone. Iona heard and saw more arguments in Orthus on an average day, nevermind it was a fraction of the population of Sahel!

One of Elaine’s innocent comments had Iona looking for beggars in the streets. There were none, high to low, which either spoke to immense social programs that the [Paladin] hadn’t seen executed in a mortal land ever, or the city had a way to ‘handle the undesirables’, a much more common solution. A few more bricks added at a minimum, with potentially dozens more.

The place wasn’t great, but it was clear the Sahels knew not to shit where they ate. That a happy, productive population was far better long term than squeezing the place dry in a decade with massive taxes. Iona wouldn’t choose it as aplace to live, and the camel was straining under the weight of all the bricks, but it wasn’t a complete disaster. 

The slave markets had Iona frowning in distaste. There were vast degrees of slavery - only High Elvish had proper nuance in the language to distinguish between twenty two different types - and this was looking more like Urwa’s ‘people are property’ versus the more benign indentured servitude of Suen.

It was impossible to judge a place in a single day, entirely under the sun’s watchful eye. Nighttime was when more foul deeds came out. There was a far higher rate of [Mages], [Warriors], and [Rangers] than a typical population. Even among [Farmers], most of whom needed to be wary of the wilderness and the dangers lurking within, Iona hadn’t seen quite such a high rate of combat-related skills. Which looped back to ‘who’s truly meek here?’

She came to an abrupt halt as she read one particularly well-leveled [Mage’s] skillset. Iona stopped so suddenly the orc walking behind her crashed into her armor. Steel walls had more give than Iona did, and he bounced off her, cursing and swearing. Iona barely noticed, she was too busy reading the skills. One in particular jumped out at her, with the rest being support.

[Aqueduct Engineer: Population Management - Poison (382)]

The Great Calming Brew: Perfect for maintaining social order and emotional stability in a turbulent society. The solution to mass unrest and violence, the Great Calming Brew calms the recipient down, makes them happy and disinclined towards violence. Why fight when happy? Why stir oneself to action when content and indifferent? The citizens will be placid and docile! The Brew acts immediately, and has long term effects. Overdoses can be fatal. An excess of violence is possible during withdrawal. 

Iona thought she should be enraged, but couldn’t muster up the anger.

She’d been drugged!? Poisoned!? The Sahels were poisoning everyone to keep them compliant!?

The Valkyrie remembered the dozens of moonstones Elaine had snuck into her bag and slipped it out, ignoring the dissatisfied complaints around her as she continued to block the road. She used the [Universal Cure] skill, and rage came roaring in as swiftly as the drug was purged.

The Sahels were drugging everyone. Fuck the bricks, the camel was dead under their weight. Was that why she’d been so passive about observing it all!? Why would she let a fucking slave market go by unchallenged!? With people being sold like that!?

Blades sprung up and around Iona. People were calmed, they weren’t idiots, and they ran screaming. Iona angled herself towards the palace and started to march, her hands clenched in rage around her glaive.

There was a limit to her patience, and she’d hit it. Many things required a second and third look.

Drugging an entire city regularly? No, Iona was not willing to accept that. Her blades flashed through the air and executed the [Poisoner]. It wasn’t flashy, there was no head flying through the air or spine being ripped out of his back. But a body with a hole through it had a lot of blood, and it freely poured onto the streets.

She was going to sink her blade into whatever Sahel’s head needed it.

People cleared out of Iona’s way. Patrolling guards took one look at the vibrating blades surrounding her, took a second and third look at her level, and patrolled in a different direction. 

Iona didn’t jog. Didn’t run, sprint, or fly. She stomped towards the palace, her displeasure radiating out from her, turning the event into a spectacle. 

The [Palace Guards] tried to stop her.

“Halt!” They ordered, pointing halberds at her. Iona nearly ignored them. One of her blades swept through the hafts with barely any resistance, and Iona didn’t bother fighting them. The [Palace Guards] were brave, and even weaponless tried to tackle and dogpile Iona. She simply stomped through them, not letting them slow her down at all. A dozen bones got broken as they got in the way of an unstoppable force, but Iona didn’t care about them at all. They weren’t the problem, and she wasn’t going to start murdering them for doing a reasonable job.

Drugging the city? That was a death sentence.

Guarding the palace? It was fine.

The doors were reinforced with magic and skills, with engineering and cunning. Iona grabbed the handles and yanked the doors open, ripping the gates off their hinges. She looked around for a place to drop them without hurting anyone as the [Guards] continued to try and slow her down, crawling over her armor.

Iona shook herself like a dog and sent them flying. One of them hit the walls at a bad angle.

[*ding!* You’ve slain a [Palace Guard]!]

The Valkyrie didn’t let the death bother her. The [Guard] knew what she was getting into and risking, and Iona had tried to be gentle. An accident of physics in the heat of combat wasn’t going to weigh on her mind, and the level and element didn’t matter on a death notification.

Iona rammed the gates upright into the brick pathway, and single-handedly stormed the palace.

The first rock snapped her head back before Iona heard the crack of it firing, and she responded with extreme prejudice. [Mages] and [Warriors] boiled out of the hallways as servants fled. There were no calls to surrender or die - anyone violently invading the palace was marked for death. 

Iona had brute forced her way past the guards at the door. She’d had the luxury of space and not too many opponents. She’d scanned them, seen that she didn’t have to resort to excessive violence, and walked past them.

She couldn’t do the same here. They packed the hallway, and there was no getting through them without casualties. 

It was short and bloody. Iona emerged from the mass of bodies with her armor painted red, blood seeping into her oversized backpack. It was the price she knew she’d have to make others pay, the reason why a single minor poor policy wasn’t enough for Iona to try and strike down the leadership of the city.

The rest of the defenders broke and ran. Iona marched into the throne room, brushing past barriers, defenses, and a poisoned dart fired from behind. Iya Sahel was lounging on the throne, coiled upon her snake lower half. She was still stunningly attractive.

Iona was more concerned with the one other person in the room. An elf, leaning on one of the pillars, watching the whole thing with a bored look on his face. A quick look over his skills revealed him to be a non-combatant, and with lower physical stats than Iona. Given the banner flying over the city, still something of a threat.

Iya theatrically gasped.

“Iona? Is that you? It’s been ages darling, we must have a chat. Whatever you want, you can have.”

Iona didn’t bother responding. Didn’t bother with fancy one-liners, or explaining where Iya went wrong or how to sate her rage. A blade through Iya’s head, and the [Tyrant] was dead. The elf started to slowly clap, and Iona recalled her blade with a thought.

“Very nice! Very well done!” He said in High Elvish, not bothering to use the more common tongue of the place. “I’d like to be the first to congratulate you on your ascension to ruling Sahel. Or, should it be called Iona now? Decisions, decisions.” He said with a smile. Iona turned on him, ready to fight. He held his hands up, a mocking smile never leaving his face.

“Ah ah ah… kill me and the New Remus Empire comes here. Maybe you care about the place, maybe you don’t, but they’ll find every last trace of you before burning the place to the ground. Then they’ll hunt you down. Leave me untouched? All they care about is that the taxes are paid and there is a proper… responsible party, shall we say. Congratulations! You are now the ruler of the city. Long may you reign.” The last part was said with sarcasm, and Iona wanted to dodge the blood-soaked tiara flying through the air towards her.

Fuck. Iona thought with feeling.

The Valkyrie knew the rules the New Remus Empire operated under. Knew if she left they’d shrug, murder one out of eight people in the city, and move on.

Iona could kill one observer, one diplomat. She could probably kill the first party of elves that came scouting to see what happened. She walked through the room as the first bold servants started to peek their head in. Iona kicked Iya’s cooling corpse away from the throne, and slapped the ornate chair a few times. An absurd number of traps triggered, designed to kill anyone who dared sit on the throne - or even went too close to it, in some cases. She sat down heavily and considered her options.

It was all about people. Who could do what, the social lubricant. Iona never wanted to lead, but was now forced into the position with thousands, if not tens of thousands of lives hanging in the balance. She’d have to wage her war against the New Remus Empire from here… and figure out a way to get a slightly less murderous and drug-happy ruler on the throne.

First things first. Experience. Advice, from people she could trust.

“I need the best long-distance [Runner].” Iona pronounced to the crowd. “A desk, a pen, and a sheet of paper.”

Iona’s letter was winging off to Skye ten minutes later… after half a dozen power brokers had laid their eyes on it, trying to divine the new shape Sahel would take.