Chương 204: 28. She Already Has

Rather than something like a town hall or a community center, the Degala tribe—as usual—places the most importance on ships. Thus, the most important meetings take place on the most important ship. In this case, that means Jira's. It's weird to consider that I spent weeks at sea sleeping in the tribe's center of power, but I suppose that's just how Jira is.

It's not that she doesn't take the wellbeing of her tribe or her position as their leader seriously, she just doesn't worry herself over formalities or appearances, and trusts her granddaughter Remi to lead the tribe as her second. Jira leads from the front, and to her, that means on the ocean and at the helm of a ship. Even now, I think she sees her tribe's settlement as a temporary affair.

The spacious captain's quarters have been swept clean, and the furniture cleverly tucked away into the corners in order to convert it into a meeting room. The center of the room is dominated by a larger version of the map that Talla and I looked over when she taught me about the local geography, held down at the corners by low tables laden with refreshments. The usual cushions surround it for seating. I've gotten used to Fa'aun almost never using chairs, but not their formal sitting posture.

In casual settings, Fa'aun will lounge on the cushions and allow themselves to stretch their legs, but in formal settings or when space is at a premium, they kneel on the cushions with their hooves neatly tucked beneath them. It's a pretty restful position for Fa'aun, but it's practically torture for me. It's fine for a little while, but if I sit like that for more than a couple of minutes, I start getting foot cramps and sore knees, then burning in my thighs and calves before they go numb entirely.

The worst part is, I'm pretty sure there are people back home who sit like this normally. Maybe it's something you get used to, but I'm not about to put up with it unless I'm actively trying to impress the locals, and I've already got Jira's esteem. So when I flop down into my usual cross-legged posture, the elders gathered around me let it pass without much comment aside from a few remarks about my flexibility—Fa'aun leg joints are a bit more rigid.

Before the meeting really gets started, I take the opportunity to assess the room. Jira and Remi get pride of place—which in this case means facing the entrance to the room, the closest equivalent to "head of the table" in their traditions—with the other tribal elders spreading out around the map on either side of them. I recognize some of the elders, though I only know one by name.

Elder Shala sits directly on Jira's left, opposite Remi, the oldest woman in the village apart from Jira herself and second highest authority within the tribe. Or, third? It's a little bit awkward. The chieftain—Jira—is the sole executor making decisions on behalf of the entire tribe, with a council of elders that advises her and can be empowered to give orders with her authority. Once, they moved as a fleet, and the elders would all be captains of their own ships.

Meetings like this would have the chieftain giving her orders to the captains, who would then be expected to carry those orders out to the best of their ability back on their own ships. Since being forced to settle their tribal lands like the rest of the old nomadic clans, Degala's fleets have been reduced to individual trader ships operating mostly independently except when they return to bring wealth back to the tribe.

Jira herself leads the most active of those vessels, which means that she's rarely actually present to make the decisions. In her absence, that role falls to her heiress—Remi. Neither Jira nor Remi has been inclined to talk much about the generation between them, but her granddaughter sits in a surprisingly precarious position. The role of chieftain is hereditary, from mother to daughter, but most of the authority not directly attributed to the chieftain is based on seniority and experience.

Elders are usually experienced captains of their own vessels, or at least old officers, but Remi was born here in the tribal lands, and she's never left them. To get around this problem, she holds the honorary title of "senior elder" and carries Jira's authority in her absence. I've seen younger Fa'aun slip up and accidentally call her "chieftain" which neither she nor any of the other elders like.

On the other side of that scale, many of the older women resent having to take orders from a girl half their age who's never held command of a ship. There's a friction here, between the new generations who are learning to survive and thrive in their permanent home, developing new traditions as they go, and the old guard who see every success as another pillar of their culture being eroded away. And neither side is wrong, really, it's just difficult to reconcile one with the other.

Shala, at least, is a partisan for Remi. She's an old friend of Jira's, and has unwavering faith in the chieftain's chosen heiress. It's the other elders who are likely to cause trouble, if anybody does. On my side, the guests are positioned directly opposite Jira, with Talla at the center—her position facing Jira designating her as the guest of honor. I'm placed right next to her, across from Remi, while Fargo sits opposite Shala.

Msshi, as the only other non-Fa'aun here capable of speech, sits next to me, coiled up as tightly as they can manage to avoid either taking up too much space or towering over everyone else. They mostly manage it, though I feel like more of a shrimp than usual sitting next to them. Serpentfolk are more massive than either humans or Fa'aun, and there's only so much they can hide by curling in on themselves. This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

After a short round of polite small talk and snacking, Jira gets right into it.

"Right, so according to our friends over the mountain, the Shaa family of Clan Baanu is consolidating power," she explains.

"More specifically, Matriarch Shaa has positioned herself as the head of not only her own household guard, but also the Holy Inquisition, and the Order of Rangers." Talla leans forward, frowning.

"The rangers won't have folded easily. Lady Faarah was well respected, and even if it's not common knowledge that Sabaah killed her, I know that Rara and my mother will have made sure to spread rumors to that effect."

"There are holdouts," Jira confirms, pointing down at the map and indicating a number of points within the river delta at the heart of the empire.

"Worst for her is the Stebaari chapter. Despite being her home ground, she's struggled to rally support there."

"More like because of it," I muse quietly.

"Nobody who's met Mira is going to be keen to fall in step behind her." Talla shakes her head.

"It's not quite so simple. Mira was always able to find people to join her team, because the favor of a noble is a tantalizing prize. Especially since most rangers come from Foren or Clanless backgrounds."

"I can't tell you why." Jira shrugs.

"But that's how it is. Other chapters in the region are mixed, but broadly I'd say it's about half and half. Further afield, however, it gets more problematic."

"They fell in line," Talla says without even bothering to ask.

"Lady Faarah never had more than a loose grip over the provincial chapters, and their guildmistresses will be eager to get on the good side of a 'real' noblewoman."

"Don't know about the rest of it," Jira grunts, "but yes. Near every chapter outside of the Stebaari region officially recognizes Lady Mira Shaa Baanu as the Grandmistress of the Rangers."

"Which, if we count them, the inquisition, and Shaa's household guard together, puts her in charge of the second largest military force on the continent," Talla concludes.

"Mother and Aunt Arelii aren't going to let that go without pawing the ground." This time it's Remi's turn to chime in.

"They aren't. As we speak, houses Goa and Gaa are petitioning the imperial court to accuse Shaa of overstepping the limitations on private military." By my understanding, Stebaa only has one centralized military force—the imperial army under direct command of the Empress. But the nobles all maintain their own small private guards, which are limited by law.

Most nobles skirt around those laws by padding the numbers with private contractors and further "personal" guards assigned to individuals rather than the house itself, but nobody dares to push that line too egregiously. Towns and cities with garrisons also have their own civilian militias, organized under an appointed sheriff to handle law enforcement and military matters in the absence of the actual army.

"That won't work," Talla says with a frown.

"As long as she keeps the forces separate and their duties distinct, there's no law against a single woman holding all three offices." I purse my lips.

"That's probably why they're making the petition, right? To make sure that Mira doesn't pull them all together into one big army."

"That's just it," Jira sighs, grimacing.

"She already has." That gets my attention.

"Where?"

"Nowhere, yet," she replies.

"They are still gathering. But therein lies the problem. Once they've finished mustering, where are they going to go? One doesn't gather an army like that without the intent to use it." And here we get to the crux of the matter. Shaa is openly hostile to Degala because Jira helped me escape and continues to shelter me. They've also been angling to procure a fleet from the tribe, if their demands for reparations are any indication.

By all appearances they have the means—in the form of a huge army—and the motivation for an attack on the tribe. But do they have the opportunity?

"Is there any chance they plan to use it internally?" I ask.

"If their army is big enough to rival the imperial army, then they could be angling for a coup." Talla shakes her head.

"Impossible. Whatever loyalty Mira commands, it's not that strong. Maybe her household troops and the inquisition would follow, but the rangers would balk. Not to mention it wouldn't just be the imperial army she's setting herself against. A full-on rebellion would see every clan from every province sending their forces to crush it." Jira nods in agreement.

"Even I can tell you that would only end with the Shaa family's extermination. So the army is going to march. It's only a question of where." Ringward is still my gut feeling, but I can see the nervous expressions on the faces of the elders—the resentful glances they keep sending my way. They think I've brought doom down on them, and I can't say with absolute certainty that they're wrong.

"Should their threats prove to be more than idle," Shala speaks up for the first time since the meeting began.

"Are we capable of meeting them?" That immediately sends the elders into a clamor, arguing about whether they can, whether they should, and if one random outsider is even worth all the trouble. Jira raps her knuckles on the table, bringing them to order.

"Our lands are not so easy to take," she notes calmly.

"We have the mountains at our back, and the sea before us." I wince, a realization striking at the worst possible moment. It doesn't do me any favors to bring it up, but I have to.

"I wouldn't be so sure about the mountains," I groan.

"Marching an army across the desert and over the mountains might not be feasible. But what about a bunch of independent raiding parties, with flexible combat capabilities and a specialty in traversing hostile terrain?" Talla gasps.

"The rangers!"

"And while you're forced to pull back from the coast to defend against attacks from the rear, the rest of her army can approach by sea," I conclude. Jira crosses her arms and frowns.

"They don't have the ships, or the expertise. They might manage it, by force, but they'll scuttle half their fleet in the process."

"What does that matter?" I sigh.

"If they plan to steal yours?"