Aikerim Kiymetl Adal

“My Domina, the Envoy was already gone from the villa when the guard arrived.” A timid voice spoke.

The parchment slowly rustled under her fingers as she read the line after line, enchanted. No wonder Albin was so desperate for his attention that he was willing to surrender such a valuable secret of Shebet. The Sphere of Negation of all things! An artefact that could hide one even from the angry gaze of Gods themselves! Aikerim didn’t know what the House of Records had done to deserve such a Gift, but they would be unlikely to keep it for long if she would reveal the truth to the public.

Erf's overview on Emanai was concerning no doubt, but the possible outcomes weren’t immediate either. He himself agreed that Emanai was either at the peak of its power or was just approaching it. But it was prudent to ensure the same could be said when her children and grandchildren would stand at the forefront of Kiymetl.

“Um, Shahin Esca was informed about our arrival, as her rooms were left in a great hurry. A messenger had delivered her words — as a wermage, she fears unlawful persecution and requests an unobstructed passage home or demands for her voice to be heard in front of the Gods.”

Even the fact that he had brought attention to the issue was already enough, but it wasn’t why she couldn’t take her eyes from the neat squiggles on the parchment. His suggestions on how to break the cycle were.

Some of the ideas were easy enough to grasp, as the specialization of labour. Something like that was already present within the Manorial system. House of Trade had many Manors within it and infighting was obviously out of the question. As such, each Manor had to occupy a specific niche that only they were beholden to. Her mother, as well as all Matriarchs before her, would dare not to entertain a branch Manor that competed with another branch or, worst of all, had no Purpose. Manors like that quickly found themselves absorbed back into the Primary Manor.

Aikerim got hers exactly because she could prove to her mother that there is gold in the textile trade.

Some were much more unexpected, especially the necessity to improve the status of the farmers. Each class in society had a Purpose and farmers had to serve the Emanai by growing food for all. To imply that they needed additional assistance meant that they were either lazy and were unwilling, or weak and unable. And neither of these sat well with her.

Manors kept them safe from the Forest, staking their own lives for their sake. The lest they could do is give back in equal measure.

These feelings however were quickly tempered by the numbers he had provided. Aikerim knew that there were a lot of farmers across the country, but she had to accept that up until this moment she had no idea how bad the situation really was. After all, so far it had been working without issues.

“Allow me to speak to Samat on your behalf! If you desire we could easily drag her over to your feet, clad in Shackles. Or have her ship sunk as soon as she leaves the harbour!”

These divine numbers of his told her the cold harsh truth of why all recent Emanai expansions had resulted in ruin. Why did seemingly small expansions in Emanai defensive arms have such tremendous cost in grain alone. Worst of all — she was aware of all these numbers. Erf had used her library to learn after all. But they were scattered across many codices and missives.

Now they were put on one single scroll. Impossible to ignore.

And then there was the third group of ideas — the ones that were impossible to refuse.

As the daughter of the House of Trade, Aikerim would easily agree that she saw her family task as a noble one. Despite what other wermages had thought about it. House of Trade had seen a constant struggle for generations to prove their Purpose as a noble one and to establish new domains so that more Manors could prosper in their name.

Erf notes were a song of love to trade.

Plain and simple. They didn’t glorify it or lavish vulgar praise like others quite often chose to do, while seeking her graces without bothering to delve into its intricacies. She could tell that Erf knew what he was writing about.

However, instead of seeing it as a noble trade just like she did, Erf saw the beast that would move the whole world.

He would offhandedly mention a single sentence that could easily result in yet another branch Manor for Kiymetl, a single sentence that her sisters and aunts could fight to know about. And the only reason her tail didn’t flinch or her lips didn’t split into a grin was due to her eyes eagerly trying to see the next words that were written.

“Um, my Domina?”

There was also something else within his notes. Aikerim had spent the last century perfecting her craft and she could sense the glimpses of something else, something even bigger. Not just the system that transported and exchanged goods for gold. There was something big that deserved its own Purpose, its own House. Perhaps, its own Pillar. Something that dealt only with gold and trust. It allowed others to craft and trade and, in return, would see a share in their profits.

Aikerim could usually predict how much gold she could see from a new venture. With this, she dared not to try. No wonder he was so frustrated by other daimonas. In comparison, they had done barely anything at all!

“Land, Labour, and Wealth,” She quietly murmured.

The factors of production that were necessary to see Emanai prosper. Land and therefore labour were at their limit. Which left wealth as the deciding factor. Something that she knew how to get and hold on to. Something that she was bound to acquire even more of, due to the help of her Alchemist. And if she stacked her cuts right — something that she could see multiplying a hundredfold even before Anaise would take the reigns.

If her daughter would even need to. Perhaps her little moon would grow into a Matriarch of her own. Split away from Kiymetl just like the House of War was split into three a long time ago. She just had to make it happen without too much friction.

Then there was the issue of Erf.

The main reason she was able to take a foothold on wool in Samat was her established relationship with shepherds on the outskirts of Emanai. Both murk and wer alike. And the reason she had succeeded where her sisters did not was in understanding that these people relied on establishing relationships to weather the rough times, rather than accumulating wealth. These were poor households and they could not afford to store gold as Manors did, without risk of being robbed.

What they could do is try and grow relationships among themselves and their betters in order to endure the hard times together. They would share their fortunes during harvest and shearing, offering gifts and welcoming guests, so that when the need came they could get assistance from these they lavished prior.

But it only worked when both sides would show their commitment. And when they did, these relationships lasted for generations. Aikerim spent her early years slowly building up that bond. Buying more wool than she needed on certain years or using her name and wealth to sway trials one way or another. But now the children and grandchildren of these she helped would only trade with her and no one else. Waiting until her carriers would arrive even if someone else would offer a better price. Thus making sure that Samat would never have a need in wool or linen while she was here.

And Erf was doing exactly that with her this very moment. Feasting her with new ideas, products, and machines. Generously sharing his wealth of knowledge. And barely asking anything in return. Watching. Waiting. Aikerim knew exactly what he was waiting for while ignoring all her attempts to sway him otherwise.

She also knew what he sought was no mere title of a freedmurk. Free but bound to the land they lived at. Or bound to the Manor they would call their Patron. He wanted a different Purpose than Servitude. Aikerim could grant him that wish, she was sure she could even do so while keeping him linked to her Manor. The real challenge was whether he would survive the process. For her opinion mattered little if Erf couldn’t prove himself.

Recent revelations made it very likely, however. She wasn’t sure how strong and sturdy he really was yet but, if he could match a wer in battle, his chances of survival were almost guaranteed. Unfortunately, his recent revelations had made him even more invaluable, making that ‘almost’ impossible to ignore.

Another task for Sulla, then. Otherwise, she would not send her alchemist to waste his precious life, no matter how much he asked for it.

It was for his own good.

A quiet cough rang inside the room and Aikerim pressed the parchment to her chest. Somehow feeling like a child trying to hide away a treat from her older siblings.

“What?” She barked out, frowning.

The werfox in front of her bowed, “A thousand apologies, my Domina! But the Envoy of Esca-”

Ah yes, the arrogant lamura that tried to take Erf away.

Her jaw clenched.

“She demanded her right to be heard?” Aikerim interrupted her guardmaster, carefully rolling the scroll into a storage case, “Very well, she will have it.”

“My Domina?”

Her fingers flexed, gouging the table. “I would not be a good host if I would deny my guest's right to her voice.”

Shahin Esca Yusuf-ja would pay for her trickery, but not in the way she would expect. And not from the direction she was guarding against. Aikerim and Erf made sure of it.

After all, Aikerim had a certain dilemma she needed to resolve, and a wermage of a high status that was begging to be used. And she would not be a shrewd merchant if she would pass an opportunity like that.

Her lips parted in a vicious grin, “Send the messengers so they can start the trial immediately!”

Shahin Esca Yusuf-ja

She ignored yet another glance of concern from the wersheep Domina. Public events were always about the perception of power and influence, and she would not damn her chances by appearing weak from the beginning. Which is exactly why Aikerim Adal decision to proceed with the trial was so unexpected and concerning.

Kiymetl was the bereaved Manor. The werfox Domina wouldn’t jump so eagerly into this trial unless she could gain something greater than the public humiliation of crying on the forum about losing her assets in a successful ploy. Either Aikerim Adal was a fool or cared more about cuts of gold than the prestige of her family.

Or something else was amiss.

Most likely the Collectors failed at their task and some of the three survived. Perhaps, she had misread her and Domina was prudent enough to secure the knowledge in advance. It would be a setback then but not too fatal. Shahin would most likely be banished from this cold place, leaving some token gold to recompense. And everything will start from the beginning. Esca still had centuries of polishing the craft, and it will take Kiymetl just as long to reach their level. Centuries that Esca would use to grind their fortunes into dust.

Or she decided to bluff until the end.

Samat Matriarch sat beside them but not too close. Seemingly busy with the shine of her horns. Not as a support but the insurance. That was unfortunate, She would have to weigh her words carefully for the Samat Manor to put their weight on her side. Shahin knew a lot but not enough to cripple the entire Manor with her words alone. Which meant it could result in them chastising Kiymetl Manor for asking too much, or denouncing her instead for suggesting their involvement.

She listened quietly to the Censor overseeing the trial. Domina of the Shebet Manor. A werdrake of sorts with large horns tinted with brimstone yellow. And a tail blessed by the moon — her tail fins similar to the divine crescents. Twitching despite her calm exterior.

Shahin could easily discern what Sophia Chasya’s prime reason for being here was. The spiteful looks she had been sending at the unperturbed Kiymetl Domina made it obvious to anyone who paid enough attention and knew what to look for.

Young, hotheaded, and very strong. These made the perfect warriors but poor strategists and generals. She wielded her power like a hammer, swinging it until she would get what she wanted. Most of the time such tendencies were tempered in childhood when one would meet someone stronger or of higher status. Apparently, it wasn’t the case with Sophia Chasya. The werdrake clearly had been enjoying the power of her status long enough and her immense Spark since childhood years.

The very same Censor that Aikerim Adal rebuked a few days prior, or so she was informed. If she threw her dice right, Speaker might be her biggest ally in this trial, with the current feud brewing up between these parties.

“We have gathered today to witness the justice being made, while I will be the ears of the Gods themselves!” The Censor proclaimed and turned to face the werfox fully, “Speak then. Tell us of your woes.”

“Five days ago, Collectors snuck into my Manor, and I wish to know who was responsible for it.” Aikerim Adal calmly spoke amidst the murmurs and Shahin had to restrain herself not to gape in surprise. The werfox was acting like a lunatic, publicly admitting her Manor to be weak! To think that Kiymetl Domina was willing to tarnish her reputation for centuries just to get back at her?

A surprise passed, replaced by calm determination and cold glee. Good. She would ‘struggle’ as Aikerim would keep digging her hole deeper. There might be a chance that she would not leave Emanai, not with a lunatic like that after her, but Kiymetl would burn the kindle of goodwill in one great blaze. Leaving themselves frozen for the nights ahead. And then her sisters will strike back, taking back a hundredfold and ensuring the wellbeing of Esca for the generations to come.

“A grievous assault,” Shahin spoke slowly, “My Manor and I hope that none of your family was hurt in this incident. A wermage trying to harm another wermage should be unthinkable. And punished most severely — for we should not turn to our barbaric past.”

“My family is safe,” Aikerim easily played into her hand, “They were after my teachers and artisans. Nevertheless, I wish to know the truth of who was behind it, I even brought my Orb with me to confirm it.”

Even more loud murmurs spread across the forum including some voices of outrage and Shahin straightened her back, lifting the chin up higher. This couldn't simply be sheer stupidity, whatever Domina was aiming for was deliberate. But she still couldn’t grasp her aim and that didn’t sit well with her at all.

“Are you saying that we have gathered here because some wer or even murk had been found with a dagger stuck in the chest?” Censor spoke incredulously, mimicking the feelings of the crowd, “And to demand the Truth from a wermage for such a petty transgression, to begin with. Have you forgotten that only I can allow such a thing?”

“Yes,” Kiymetl Domina nodded, “I was hoping that you would. After all, they were targeting the teacher of my First Daughter, my Alchemist, and the bearer of the Gestr of Kiymetl.”

“What?” Censor roared, “Are you trying to say she dared to attack him!”

Her tail tensed up as the mirages finally disappeared, showing her the dunes of reality ahead. Censor wasn’t angry that Kiymetl scorned her offers, she was angry because they had that murk and she didn’t. And Aikerim Adal used her perfectly, she annoyed her just enough and then sent all that anger directed at her instead with just a single sentence.

Shahin wished that she could lash at the Agrona Ninanak, the Samat Domina beside her, but she could only afford a withering gaze. Her scowl hidden by her veil. The wersheep apparently didn’t disclose enough about what actually happened in that bath, perhaps to prevent her from reconsidering.

And now they were going to pay the price.

Samat Matriarch stopped fussing with her horns and changed her stance, watching the proceedings with care.

The werdrake turned around, tail swishing on the carpets that covered the marbled floors, “Answer me, do her claims bear truth!?”

The Matriarch quietly coughed.

So that’s how it was then.

“What Aikerim Kiymetl Adal did not mention was that said ‘alchemist’ had stolen the secrets of our Purpose!” She loudly proclaimed to the masses, “By choosing to shelter someone who was no doubt a fugitive of Yusuf, Kiymetl had clearly overstepped their bounds, given to us by the Gods. They are no longer satisfied with merely taking the gold, for they want to take the Purposes of other Manors. First in Yusuf and then, undoubtedly, in Emanai itself!”

The crowd was much louder this time. Aikerim Adal was able to incite the Censor, but she was no slouch in speaking herself, mustering the other wermages behind her cause was not a hard task.

“What fugitive? He was born and raised here and never spoke to anyone from Yusuf before your arrival. Take the Purpose? If I say my Purpose is to eat will your Manor starve itself? After all, we both eat food.” A disdainful remark followed.

Dragging it further was futile. If the Censor would decree the use of the Orb on a wermage like her, Samat would likely switch the sides. At least she managed to get some new information from it. Shahin suspected he was not from the sands of her people but this was pretty much the confirmation she needed. This wasn’t one of their artisans who ran away or a pupil of one.

Censor slammed her hand down, “So did he survive or not?”

Aikerim shook her head, “Fortunately, he lived. Apparently, whoever supplied her with Collectors was too poor to afford the real ones.”

Shahin sighed and closed her eyes, ignoring the jab that was aimed at the Samat Manor beside her. If they take offence on such a subtle poke it would be their own fault.

She had failed.

But just because she failed once didn’t mean she had the option to give up. The wellbeing of her Manor was at stake. Right now all she could do is to weather the storm of her failure and try and try again.

“Why are we still entertaining this charade?” Samat Matriarch spoke out, “So he didn’t die — have her pay a fine and let us be done with it. In fact, As the owner of Samat, I can pay in her stead, so that we can finish it quickly and send her packing away from our city.

“We are discussing a life of a murk anyway, a handful of silver should suffice even if he died,” She elbowed someone beside her, “Who knows maybe he already did, from old age. They tend to do that all the time.”

Quiet laughter spread out, initiated by the lackey the Matriarch poked. She laughed the hardest.

Yes, leaving right now would probably be the best option. The missive was already sent to her Manor, but staying here would not be safe, and Shahin would work her hardest to prepare her Manor for the counterattack.

“How about a hundred thousand gold talents?” Kiymetl Domina brazenly spoke out, making the Samat Matriarch sputter.

“Have you lost your mind, child? Or did your mother forget to teach you numbers? I think I need to talk to Nanaya Ayda, it looks like your Matriarch doesn't know how to foster respect in her children.”

“That is his worth to me,” Aikerim Adal shrugged, “Or did you think Virnan Shah gives away Gestri to common farmer slaves?”

“That doesn’t make him worth more than a city either!”

“I concur,” Shahin nodded to Samat Matriarch, “He is suspiciously absent, despite your claims that he is alive… Can I trust your claims that he is no fugitive of Yusuf? Perhaps it is I who should claim this price from you, for taking what belonged to Esca, to begin with.”

“You claim that he is a fugitive because he knows about glass?” Aikerim Adal got up and slowly walked closer to her podium, carrying two pouches, “is this cup made by Esca artisans?”

“Yes, our craftsmanship is unquestionable,” Shahin easily recognized one of the gifts she had presented to Domina upon her arrival.

“What about this one?”

A much simpler cup was presented. It was apparent that whoever made it wasn’t working at this craft for a long time. Yet, it was of clear glass and that was already worrying. They didn't just stumble on the knowledge they knew exactly what to mix, and had access to good materials too.

“This is the cup made from the written instructions of my alchemist,” Aikerim Adal continued due in her silence, making her feel the chill crawling through her tail.

So she did secure his knowledge, which means she was much more deadly than she was informed and observed herself.

Werfox fingers let go of the intricate cup, Shahin flinched from the loud crash as the shards spread across the carpeted floor.

“It is fragile.”

“It is strong enough to hold the wine, If I knew that the Kiymetl Manor was so barbaric and uncouth to hold their strength in check, I should have sent you leaden cups.” She sniffed, “We give these to our children until they learn not to crush every toy-”

Another loud sound interrupted her speech. This time Aikerim Adal threw the second cup into the ground.

This time around the cup bounced off.

And rolled on the floor.

Intact.

“Wasn’t it you, who told me Esca’s glass is strong due to the Gods’ blessings?” She heard the voice as the world swam all over her, “It looks to me that the glass of Kiymetl is truly blessed.”

This was wrong. It shouldn’t be.

“I also don’t remember seeing the glass of pale Arksite made by your artisans,” Shaitan with the hair of red lifted up her braids, showing off her braid Rings to the damning murmur of the crowd all around them.

She heard the buzz of angry bees all over her, the loud heartbeat inside her chest.

This must be a lie!

Kiymetl shouldn’t, couldn’t, mustn’t have that knowledge!

A finger ring landed on her podium. Simple glass, but out of the same pale Arksite hue.

They did.

Did the Gods send them that murk as a Gift? It looked more and more likely. But what about her own Manor? Did they anger Gods somehow? What could they do to earn their favour back?! What could she do?

“Or maybe,” a soft clap echoed through the forum, followed by loud gasps and frantic murmurs, “Esca had been hiding something even greater?”

Shahin lifted up her eyes to see her sister in front of her. No, it was just her reflection. Clear like the most polished ones she had seen, made from pure silver and polished overnight by slaves. Yet without any imperfections either, something that even best artisans couldn’t achieve.

And it was larger than she could imagine being possible. Judging by the loud yells, the crowd thought the same, there have been calls for the price already from somewhere.

“If he was a fugitive that means Esca can make similar glass mirrors too?”

This wasn’t a trial. This was the showcase of the new Kiymetl offers. Offers that were more than well-received.

And they both knew it.

And for all her knowledge of glass-making, Shahin couldn’t even fathom how it was done. Which meant that she couldn’t match them with her own.

“If only you waited just a tenday longer,” the werfox quietly murmured to her amidst the rumbles of the crowd and the shouts of the Censor trying to get them under control.

“So that you could starve us quietly instead?” Shahin bitterly responded.

“Do you think I am stupid? These mirrors of glass alone could occupy my Manor for centuries ahead. Why should I fight for the apples on the ground when I have an entire tree in my own orchard?

“So what do you want?” She spoke with resignation, there was no purpose to wonder about the different paths she didn’t take. She made her choice and she will walk it with all the dignity she had. “You know well that Esca will not humour your fantastical wergild. Even if we had that much. Will you push for my execution, then? It will be likely — the Censor is on your side. But will you survive the infamy of a Manor that saw a wermage dead for the sake of a murk?”

“A Life for a Life,” Aikerim Adal spoke, “But not in Blood, but in Servitude. It will be short, we are talking about a wermage against a murk afterwards. Fifty years should be of equal trade.”

“And do you think you can demand a Servitude from a wermage?” Censor finally started paying attention to what was happening at the centre of the trial. “I won't have you sour our relationship with Yusuf because you wanted to take one of theirs for yourself.”

“Gods be witness, I won’t. I can’t.” Aikerim Adal waved her tail, “But I can let her choose instead. If she agrees, the Kiymetl will not sell the products that Esca already does. There is also a possibility that we will sell our own novel creations through them in time. Provide them with the Arksite glass to make new crafts with it, even.”

The tail swished once more, “Or even share some alchemy. After all, it is not just sand that makes the glass.”

Looking at her, Shahin remembered the words of her grandmother. ‘Shaitan does not threaten.’ It doesn’t need to. It will come to you through the desert without rattling sabres or shaking spears. It will not come for you yelling threats or hissing curses. It will come with a smile, bringing fire in one hand and water in the other.

And you will take them.

Because you have no choice.

The reflection looked back at her, without a Spark within. As if trying to show her the future of her Manor.

She closed her eyes for a moment and sighed. Because the future of her House was more important than the humiliation she is bound to receive.

“I accept.” Shahin Esca Yusuf-ja spoke raising her head back up.

Shaitan smiled for the first time.

Aikerim Kiymetl Adal

“If you desire to discuss this in a civil manner, I will,” She spoke to her approaching daughter.

They were the only ones left in the banquet hall, once all the guests had been escorted out. Her triumphant return from the trial had resulted in a grand celebratory feast, ending the already rich day with an appropriate tone.

Many had previously questioned her decision to seek the trial in private, and some even in public. And nothing would silence these naysayers more than the results she managed to achieve. And nothing screamed about her prowess more than a willing wermage slave. To crush your opponent so thoroughly that they would be willing to offer one of their own in order to avoid further devastation.

As she had expected, the entire ceremony was a great success. With her household properly impressed and the other Manors properly awed and enticed.

Except for two — her own children.

Aikerim easily dismissed Amalric's outrage, he was still earning her forgiveness and lamura’s fate might prove helpful for his character, but Anaise would need a different approach.

Her little moon sighed and took a knee in front of her sofa, her lush tail laying still on the ground, “I wish to know why would you gift her to him, instead of keeping her for yourself.”

She could see the emotions bubbling under her facade. Nevertheless, Anaise held still showing her restraint. Good, she could begin, then.

A bit of concentration on the runes and the room succumbed into silence, cutting them away from a stray ear.

“I have thought about your desire and…I have decided to allow it.” Aikerim slowly began.

“Then why-” Anaise exclaimed only to be stopped by her hand.

“I have decided to allow it. Not the Emanai as a whole,” She thundered at her daughter for interrupting, “And if I were to grant your wish, I will make sure that the other Manors will not make you suffer for it.”

A silence stretched between them.

Anaise sighed, “So that would make him not just a murk, but a murk that owns a wermage. Ours and other Manors would rightfully question why you didn’t just give her directly to me.”

“Let them. My position is more than secure, especially after the events of today. Yours, however, isn’t.”

“And what if she gets swayed by his charm? You know that she will discover plenty being this close. What if she decides that further actions are necessary?”

“Do you expect him to be that easily swayed? Especially by her of all the people.” She raised an eyebrow.

Anaise smiled and shook her head.

“Exactly,” Aikerim continued, “And if she gets swayed then all the better. I have no desire to crush Esca as a whole, but to see them join us in strength for good. Perhaps even spearheaded by the Second Daughter of Esca that is seeking to enter your sadaq.

“I have no time and people to expand into glass-making, not after the revelations I bore witness to,” She waved a scroll case and put it back into her kaftan, “And I wouldn’t mind her Manor to take that burden off my shoulders while singing me praises and showering me in gold.”

“I see,” Anaise nodded and got up, “Be well, mother. It appears that I have quite a lot to think about, and even more to prepare for.”

XXX

We walked out of the Chimgen Manor — Albin on his horse and me, his ‘travel slave’, a hooded figure dutifully walking beside him. Our faces neutral, our bellies full.

Two precious people, riding on the cart quietly.

A familiar itch on my chest telling me that all that consumed food is being used for its intended purpose.

“I have seen a lot,” I softly murmured, “But I never expected her to act that way. That Domina was outright thirsty.”

“A Spark is a blessing and a curse,” Albin sighed, “Impossible to mask or hide, it tells all who are capable of seeing the true strength of the blood flowing in my veins. It is a small mercy that she wasn’t in the Heat, or we would not have left that easily.”

I shuddered, feeling the chill crawling up my spine. Thankfully Anaise wasn’t that intense or I would probably be missing some parts of my body by now.

“Do you think we are far enough by now?” I changed the topic, itchy to end this act.

He glanced back for a second and shook his body loose. Letting his demonic horns and large draconic tail out from the magical somewhere. Blue glow shone between the scales as he shifted, slowly settling back into a normal colour that I saw since our initial meeting. A werdrake with scales black and tints of blue.

“Yeah, we aren’t being followed.” He finally nodded after his transformation.

I smiled gratefully at him and threw my cloak away. And turned back to face the cart properly. Shaking with anticipation.

“Ma, Unca, it's me. I got you free.”