Chương 24

With the fall of the empire of Zozheim in the year 989 Post Divine Exodus, the history drew a close on the kingdoms of the eastern continent, called Elup in the language of its conqueror. Only one nation stood among the rubble, and that nation was the nation of Tal-sha-shenk. Ruled by the autocratic Tal, the Risen. Sorcerer-king and divine abomination, Tal rebuilt the society of Elup from the ground up. Both the living and the dead served his purpose.

Despite the propaganda of the nations of the western continent, life did not stop on Elup. The survivors of the first and second Risen Wars rebuilt in the ashes. They were governed fairly, if ruthlessly, by their undead overlords. Ten years after the unification of Tal-sha-shenk, the first trade ships began arriving in the western continent, bearing the goods that the people had thought they would never see again. And bearing word of life under the rule of Tal, the Risen.

The people of Weqlan, the western continent, were horrified. The living and the dead lived right along side each other, with the wisest of the undead enforcing the dystopian laws of the land ruthlessly. Public executions were common, often without trial or explanation. And every year, the Lottery. The rulers of Weqlan, determined not to meet the same fate as Elup, banded together under one banner for the purpose of resisting any potential aggression by the undead autocrat.

The first congress of Weqlan was held on the third month of 999 PDE. Representatives of every nation were present. And representing Tal-sha-shenk was the divine consort, Regina du Tal. The wife of the undead warlock who had conquered half the world. Escorted by Po, another undead warlock who was said to hold a rank equivalent to a duke within undead society, such as it was. * Regina vomited off the side of the ship, clinging to the railing so as not to fall overboard. It was the final day of their voyage.

She had thought she had gotten used to the rocking motions of the ship midway through the journey, but the waters approaching the port of Nelegra were infamously choppy. The port itself was very calm, protected by a vast breakwater that the ship would have to sail around and come in from the south. It made for something of a natural pier, with man made docks extending out into the bay connecting to the raised breakwater formation. She collapsed after emptying her stomach and wiped her lips with a handkerchief.

Po was looking at her from his position near the mast. Occasionally, the wind would shift direction slightly, and he would speak a word, she would see the brand on his forehead light up, and the wind would shift back. The captain said they had crossed the ocean in record time. At least, it was a record for this ship, he was uncertain what the official record was. That was good. She'd have an extra week to establish ties in the destination. Life had been good to Regina since her father had died.

Her brother had refused to surrender, only to be murdered by his own officers. She had arranged for that contingency. Her other brother had gone missing in battle, and was likely wandering around in the mass of undead that her husband kept from decaying using his magicks. With nobody left to challenge her version of events or her legitimacy she had ascended to become empress, and then immediately surrendered to Tal-sha-shenk.

The undead armies still came to Zozheim as conquerors, but they met no resistance, and they did not raise or kill. Instead, they audited. Men, women, and children were registered. Property was logged. Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author. Property lines were recorded. Customs were upheld or changed according to their new overlords' will. But there was no mass destruction. No slaughter of innocents. The people of Zozheim praised her name.

She was more beloved than ever, and even when the whisper that she murdered her father and her brothers to ascend to the throne emerged from her detractors, nobody believed it. The palace of her family was dismantled, its art stripped from the walls and sent away. Tal did not leave the symbols of the old authority in place, and her childhood home was burned to the ground. The temple of Vorulsht remained. That place where thousands of young men and women were murdered, leading to the creation of Tal.

She had asked Tal if it was to avoid blasphemy that he left it standing, and he had said not to question his decision on the matter. She'd never brought it up again. She had met and befriended Aemalia du Pashenas. Aemalia was an idealist, but a useful one. She'd earned Tal's trust and respect over years of service, and in befriending Aemalia she had one more angle on Tal himself. As for her husband. Regina grinned. It had taken him six months to decide to agree to her proposal.

His reasons were practical, as she had lined out. His government, having conquered half the world, did not need the historic authority of her family's name. He had, in fact, insisted she change it. But marriage to her gave him legitimacy in the eyes of the old way of thinking that would hasten the acceptance of some and impede the arguments of others.

"And if you become a burden I shall simply have you drowned," he had said flatly at the end of his explanation. She had resolved to remain very useful to her husband. And over the past nine years, she had earned the right to keep breathing over and over again, resolving disputes and assisting in governance of the living. Tal needed the living. Not out of any sentimental reasons. It was simply that the undead do not reproduce.

It was for this same reason that children were allowed to grow, and parents were allowed to have children, and in general life was allowed to be tolerable for the peasants. Except when bodies were needed. Then, the Lottery. Tal did not particularly care about fairness, but he saw no reason not to be fair to his subjects, so he allowed the risk to be distributed across the entire continent. It soothed the peasants to know that their individual chances of being murdered by their overlord was actually quite low.

Tal understood animal husbandry, but his livestock were the living. And his herd was growing. Regina grinned, but it was not with pleasure, for he had told her why he was growing the population of Elup. He intended to conquer Weqlan as well. And he was prepared to throw as many of his subjects as it took into the gears of war to win that battle as it took. Which is why he had sent her to Weqlan as his ambassador.

The more of the continent he could take without bloodshed, the less rebuilding he would have to do in the wake of the war. He saw it as efficiency She saw it as opportunity. And mercy, obviously. She didn't want a bloody, protracted intercontinental war to break out between Elup and Weqlan. Millions of people might die. It would be centuries before the population of Elup recovered to what it had been before the Wars of the Risen, and war with Weqlan might be no less devastating.

If she could prevent that tragedy, she would be hailed as a savior by the peasants. And a political genius by her peers. A raven landed on the railing next to her. It had the symbol of her husband on its forehead, and its eyes glowed violet.

"Hello, husband," she said. The raven squawked. It could speak, when her husband wanted it to, but it took less effort to make natural sounds.

"The extra week the fair winds that Po has given us will be very useful. I know he does not care, but if you could convey my gratitude to him, I would appreciate it," she said. It squawked again.

"You know that I am likely to fail. I will try again after the first failure, and after the next, and after the next," she promised.

"By establishing diplomatic ties and presenting a reasonable face, we dismantle their attempts to call you an unreasonable monster. My failures strengthen your position. So please do not have me murdered." The raven squawked, then flew away, heading toward the city. She watched it fly, envious. Her husband had become so powerful. He often simply sat in his throne, his eyes closed, as he sent his consciousness out throughout the world. Sometimes he did not move for days.

She recalled the first time she had spoken with him. She had desecrated the family crypt, pulling her ancestor's skull from its tomb, then nervously performed the ritual to summon his spirit. It had failed. She had repeated it over, and over, and over, and over. Finally, it had succeeded. The eyes lit up and she had spoken to a demigod. And that was the first time she had truly betrayed her family, her country, and life itself. She grinned, looking down at the ring on her finger. The one that he had put there.

Platinum, with the same violet crystal that was inset in the artifacts that once raised and controlled the undead. She was the wife of the most powerful man in the world. By extension, she was the most powerful woman in the world. What did it matter if the blood in both of their veins ran cold as ice?