The human kingdoms were too damnably big. “Do they just go on forever?” Zael muttered, watching green hills sail past through the window. “I’m starting to think there isn’t an end at all.”
He hadn’t been seeking a response, but Sarielle flipped a page of the textbook in her lap and replied idly anyway. “From northernmost point to southernmost, the human kingdoms dwarf our holand ten tis over. Our entire continent would fit in one half of one half of the Central Kingdom, and it’s the smallest of their territories.”
Zael had heard comparisons like that before and had known how ridiculously huge the human kingdoms were, but this expedition was putting the truth into perspective. Seeing was believing; firsthand experience trumped all. He and Sarielle had been flying along on this ‘Convoy’ for days now, and while that was hardly a substantial amount of ti for long-distance travel, they were moving many tis faster than a horse’s dead sprint—for hours and hours, stretching into days, and they had still yet to arrive.
At least the monotony would be ending soon. Half an hour or thereabouts, and they should arrive at ridian. He couldn’t imagine making the sa trip on horseback, or greateagle for that matter. No wonder the humans had put so much effort into making this hulking iron-artificed contraption. Without it, nobody would get anywhere. They’d be stuck in the kingdoms of their birth their entire lives.
“All that land, all those people, and they’ve made so little of themselves,” he said. He wasn’t sure where the thought spawned from, but he’d been ruminating over humans and their ways a lot recently—for obvious reasons, seeing how this was his first ti here.
“The monsters are weaker,” Sarielle replied, still clearly only half paying attention. “So places don’t even have monsters, ridiculous as that sounds. So there’s little need to fight and get stronger for the average person, especially when there isn’t social pressure to do so. First and foremost, people are products of their environnt.”
Zael scoffed. He couldn’t let that slide. “Are you implying if Father or I were born here, we also would’ve ended up soft and lazy?”
Sarielle looked up from her textbook, seeming to register the conversation fully. His sister considered his question, opened her mouth to respond, and visibly reconsidered. Her lips pursed.
“Of course not, brother,” she said—and it was obviously a placating answer.
He sighed. “Don’t do that. Say what’s on your mind, Sari, even if you don’t think I want to hear it.”
“I’ve found that approach to rarely help anyone, and least of all.”
He grunted. It was a good point. “Be that as it may, don’t lie to my face.”
She shrugged. “Then, yes and no. I think you would be surprised by how much your environnt influences you, or , or anyone. Then again, you and Father areuniquely… enthusiastic, even among the First Blood. So who can say?”
He preened under the praise, though Sarielle, odd girl she was, probably hadn’t ant it as such. Indeed, by the way she rolled her eyes and returned her gaze to the book in her lap, he knew for a fact she hadn’t been trying to convey a complint.
“Regardless, I think saying that humans have ‘made so little of themselves’ is disingenuous,” she said. “Their social structure is different but not necessarily worse at fostering elites. Larger supportive populations ans funneling more resources toward the top, whether directly or indirectly.”
“If we had ten tis the people, we would have ten tis the Titled—not rely be equals to the humans in that arena.”
He would have thought that an incontestable point, but Sari shrugged and responded, “Debatable. Opportunities would be spread thinner. Unless you an our holand would also be ten tis as large, with an unchanged abundance of resources—and at that point we’d be wealthier and more fortunate than the humans, so it’d be an unfair comparison.” Another shrug. “Too many factors. What I’m getting at is that it’s more complex than what you’re suggesting. Human society functions fine, as does demon society. Different doesn’t an bad.”
He huffed. Even as tolerant of Sari’s oddness as he was, his sister’s attitudes and beliefs could be off-putting. She didn’t even seem to care how lazy the typical human was. He would have figured that obvious disgrace would be sothing that even shewould acknowledge and look down upon.
Because, really. Third and fourth elevation—‘silver-rank’—was respectable here? Third elevation was ‘above average’ for local adventurers, he had overheard, and adventuring was a rarity, not sothing all able-bodied people pursued at one point in their lives. The concept genuinely disgusted him. Being bestowed the ability to harden oneself and improve in such a fantastic manner, and simply choosing to not? They might as well spit in the gods’ faces.
But Sari had always had unusual views. Even if she hadn’t been born physically frail and uncoordinated, and then proved herself untalented in all matters martial or sorcerous even for having that disadvantage, he suspected she still would have grown up to be a little… off.
“What are you reading?” he asked, changing topics. The size and cover of the book had changed since he last glanced.
She lifted the to to display it to him. “Principles of Civic Logistics, Volu Three,” she said, lips quirking. “It’s riveting material, I assure you.”
He grimaced. He shouldn’t have asked. She was still planning on taking that… that bureaucrat’s exam, then. Though he hardly thought she would have changed her mind about it. Once Sari decided on sothing, she followed through. She was still a Keresi.
“It’s what I’m good at, and find interesting,” Sari said shalessly, reading his thoughts through his silence. “It’s how I can help the family. Houses don’t run themselves.”
And it was admirable when frad like that, making what she could of herself for the betternt of the clan, but still unpleasant to hear. Where Zael had taken to the axe, Sari had taken to paper and quills—sothing that would have brought her scornful looks even if she had been from rely a branch family of the Second Blood. As the daughter of Primus Mizar Keresi himself, her eccentricity had earned her outright disdain. That unseemly hobby might have been forgiven had she not also been one of the worst combatants Zael had ever seen. Even Father’s desperate personal attention hadn’t been able to drag her out of so much as third elevation. He hadn’t known it was possible to have less than zero fighting instincts, but his sister sohow did.
She would have been a pariah if not for Father’s adamant support. Was one regardless, really. Most people just didn’t voice their distaste straight to her face. At least, not when Zael or Father was around. Which was why Zael tried to hover around his sister as much as possible, and probably why Father had sent her alongside Zael for this mission.
He changed topics again, latching onto that last line of thought. The mission.
“Nysari,” he said. “It still doesn’t make any sense. I’ve never heard of any Nysari. You would think we’d have t our cousin, or so much as have heard Uncle Malzier speak her na once in our lives.”
“She was in the records when I checked,” Sari replied with a shrug. “And it’s difficult to imagine a reason Father would lie to us. It is Uncle we’re talking about. He visits more now, but back in the day, he could go decades without returning ho. His daughter must have taken after him. It makes sense.” She hesitated. “…sort of.”
It was a partly sensible explanation, and the only real conclusion they’d been able to draw the past several tis the topic had co up. The argunt did hold so water. Malziel was another oddball of House Keresi, though in a far more socially respectable manner than Sarielle. All honorable mbers of high society took their advancent prospects seriously, but Uncle Mal espoused that ideal to an extre, even for demonkind. He lived in the wilderness and treated civilization as a rare relaxation opportunity, sothing to ‘indulge in’ on infrequent occasions. The man was probably more monster than much of what he hunted.
Naturally, the clan revered him. He was a demon among demons. Gossip said that he stood on equal footing with even the Primus, though he had ceded any titles his strength might offer; Mizar was the undisputed Primus, with the full support of his brother.
Even so, dedicated to raising his elevation or not, Malziel did visit the Keresi estate and attend gatherings once every few years, and while the man was taciturn and not nearly as gregarious as Father, he was not so mute stoic. Surely Uncle would’ve spoken about Nysari at so point or another. Yet he hadn’t. Not to Zael or Sarielle, in any case.
Zael could co up with a few theories, most of them unpleasant to think about. When Uncle had been Zael’s own age, he had apparently been… more normal, put bluntly. A deep tragedy with his first and only wife had led him into seclusion and granted the man that endless fever for advancent that was legendary even for the Keresi clan. With that history in mind, certain familial matters might simply be sothing Uncle refused to speak about. Ever.
But sothing still felt odd about the whole situation. Not least because of the initial summons where Father had ordered Zael off to the human kingdoms to ‘show his cousin support, should she need it.’ Father was many things, and Zael had great respect for him, but a master of duplicity was not one—even Zael, also simple in that regard, had sensed a lack of honesty in his father’s words.
Zael found that inability to twist sentences around admirable. House Keresi were not snakes like those filling the halls of the craven House Naravi. Lies and trickery had their purpose in direct combat, but even then, Zael considered such tactics disreputable.
Yes, sothing was amiss with the whole situation, though he truly didn’t know what. And besides, if Nysari was so detached from their house that she hadn’t so much as been seen publicly for a hundred years, didn’t that suggest a certain… lack of care or dedication to those who shared her na? An estrangent of her own choosing? Family didn’t stop being family after so amount of ti had passed, but such prolonged and absolute isolation from them did indicate sothing.
Then again, Father stood resolutely by all of his family, even Sarielle, the black sheep of nearly the entire First Blood. Frad like that, sha filled Zael. Family was family, and as unwanted as this sudden expedition was, and as detached as Cousin Nysari was from their house, he would obey his father’s commands in both spirit and letter—he would show her support, no matter the reason Father had sent him and Sarielle rushing across the world with only the vaguest instructions.
“If she takes after Uncle, at least eting her will be interesting,” Zael said at last. “Tenth elevation, too. How long do I need to wait before I ask for a duel, you think?”
“Just not the mont you et her, please,” Sari answered, voice both amused and chiding. “She might be a Keresi, but we don’t know what she’s like. She might’ve spent a lot of ti in the human lands and adopted so of their ways.” She paused in her reading, expression growing thoughtful. “A long ti. A hundred years. You know, I’ve been wondering if…”
Zael’s eyes narrowed. He recognized that look. Sarielle might not excel in the most socially respectable ways, but all Keresi were exceptional in so regard. His sister had a sharp mind.
“Been wondering what?” he prompted.
“…never mind,” she said after a long pause. “Forget I said anything. It’s silly.” She shook her head. “I’ve been reading too many stories.”
His eyes narrowed further, but he chose not to press. If even Sarielle thought the theory ridiculous, he might genuinely not want to hear it, curiosity stoked or not. His sister’s mind worried him sotis. Or rather, most of the ti.
“Just, Father did tell us to go and find Rafael of Vanguard,” Sarielle continued despite the lack of encouragent, giving him a look that implied she was fishing for sothing.
But he returned only a baffled expression. “Because we’ll be in ridian,” he said. “And he is a long-standing ally of House Keresi. We have no ans of contacting Cousin Nysari, so he will help us, and we were due a ceremonial visit anyway.”
She deflated. “R-right. Yes, obviously.” Sari really wasn’t soone to stamr, so she must’ve been truly embarrassed by whatever leap of logic she’d been trying to produce in Zael. He maintained his bewildered look as he kept both eyebrows raised at her. “Like I said, never mind,” she muttered.
Such an odd girl, this sister of his.
“I wonder what he’s like,” Sari said, obviously as a distraction.
“Rafael of Vanguard?” Zael couldn’t help the frown that appeared to tug down on his lips. “I wonder that as well.”
Rafael was a controversial figure for demonkind. On a global scale, he might be better known than even most of the Primogenitor’s Blood. And as the prior steward of the guild that had led the mortal races into a brighter age, he deserved acknowledgnt and respect.
But he also represented humans in all their least savory ways. It wasn’t that Zael disliked humans for being human—he wasn’t one of those sorts. So of the hardest-working, bloodthirstiest people he’d t were humans living in the demon lands, and they had Zael’s unabashed admiration. As did many human Titled. No, Zael disliked most humans simply for their behaviors and attitudes, their disregard for the wondrous gift the gods had bestowed upon them all.
Despite Rafael’s status and wealth and all the opportunities that represented, he had refused to progress through the ranks. Zael had heard that the man hadn’t so much as broken out of first elevation, sothing even children could do with moderate effort. The prior steward was also, while supposedly an honorable man, a scher among schers, a person obsessed with words and papers more than the proper pursuits of baring steel and drawing blood.
Much like his sister, he realized. That explained the naked intrigue in her voice whenever she ntioned the man. Zael hadn’t made that connection until then. No wonder she had seed far less disgruntled than he to be sent off, without warning, on an ocean voyage and then days of rail travel across the world. Where Zael wasn’t looking forward to eting Rafael—though he wasn’t dreading it either; he just had mixed feelings about the man as most demons did—his sister was probablyunabashedlyexcited.
Zael suppressed a sigh. Sari was already beyond saving, but even so, he suspected Rafael wouldn’t be a good influence on her. He wondered whether Father had considered that potential consequence of this expedition. Probably not.
“Hopefully he can help us find Nysari quickly,” Zael said. “With luck, she’ll dismiss us, and we’ll be heading ho within the week.”
Even as he spoke the words, he saw through the window a walled city growing larger in his view. The tedious trip was coming to an end. Good. He wanted to find out what was going on.
He’d never liked mysteries.
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