Karp
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Chapter 107
🕑 Added 2024-11-15 19:10:31 +0000 UTCWalking through the fortified city of Sunsail Anchorage-a port town off the west coast-Varrus, Syra, and a contingent of House Vandercross made their way to the harbor where their ship awaited them.
His trip to the docks was surreal. Every other town or city in Quel'Thalas had faced the fires of war, but this seaside port town had remained unscathed.
Buildings were in pristine shape, and there were zero signs of damage. Varrus had grown so accustomed to death and debris lining the streets, that the idyllic life of immortal peace had seemed like an alien concept to him.
Yet Sunsail Anchorage was like a scenic picture freezing the grand lifestyle of Highborn culture in a time capsule.
The people here seemed much more cheerful, and a partying atmosphere spread through the streets. Music loudly blared from opera houses, inns were lively, and Highborn busily showed off their magic to one another.
It felt like he was a tourist that had gone back in time, and visited ancient Rome, Egypt, or any other great civilization of the past. Magnificent structures floated in the sky, massive statues of Heroes and artists lined the streets. Laughter carried on the air, and the cool sea breeze ran through his hair.
In short, Sunsail Anchorage felt like the most beautiful seaside resort town Varrus had ever experienced.
They were in stark contrast to the survivors of Silvermoon. Where the victims of the Scourge were well aware of the Undead threat, and had put their all into working together for the good of society, these people were partying as if they didn't have a care in the world!
At first it was a magical feeling, but the contrast between this place and the rest of the kingdom didn't sit right with Varrus. While everyone else was suffering, and doing their best just to survive, the residents here continued as if nothing bad would happen. As if thousands of their compatriots weren't off risking their lives to ‘hold the roof up’ so the world didn't come collapsing down on top of their pretty blonde heads!
“Disgusting.” Varrus spat into a nearby gutter as he watched a musician captivate an audience with his violin.
Over a thousand people clogged the streets, and thousands more sat in an open air amphitheater, captivated by this musician. Yet the procession of warriors and mages from House Vandercross barely registered a side eyed glance.
In fact, several Elves sneered at them for making too much noise, and interrupting the performance!
“Agreed. You are not even 100 years of age, yet you work for these people while they play games ignoring reality. You are a true Hero, Highlord.” Rho'dan commented from the side, and shook his head in derision at the partygoers.
“We should give them something to fear. Disrespecting our sacrifice is a huge slap to House Vandercross's face. But more importantly, their disrespect of your achievements is simply unforgivable.” Syra muttered with a hint of blood lust, her hand rested on her sword's handle, yet she looked to Varrus with an eager look of anticipation on her face.
She wanted violence!
Varrus quirked an eyebrow. He didn't want to disturb the peace, but seeing the locals partying and relaxing whilst the rest of the nation was actively fighting a war put a sour taste in his mouth.
Just last night, he had awakened in a cold sweat after dreaming about a dead little girl he had dug out of a rubble heap when he first transmigrated. Her face frozen in a scream of terror… it really put things into perspective, and reaffirmed that even if his actions might be deemed questionable to some, he was doing the right thing.
Taking a shaky deep breath, Varrus felt Syra's hand grip his tightly. Turning to his lovely wife Varrus weakly smiled, and patted her on the shoulder.
“A bold idea my love. If they wish to be entertained, then we shall put on a performance for them that they'll never forget!” Varrus said coldly. Pursed his lips, he marched towards the stage where the violinist was performing.
“Hey, you can't interrupt maestro Lightswallow, he's the most famous musician in the entire Anchorage-” One Elf stood in their way, only to be shoved to the ground by Rho'dan like he was as insignificant as a beach ball.
A few other attendees tried to stop them, but the 100+ men/women Varrus had marching behind him formed a spear shaped formation, and moved anyone who got in their way.
The music stopped, and the crowd parted, allowing Varrus easy access to the amphitheater’s stage.
The violinist took one look at Varrus, his face red with fury.
“Do you know who you have just interrup…ted.” The maestro began, only for him to quiver, and go pale as he seemed to recognize Varrus.
“Get off the stage!” Someone in the crowd shouted.
“Leave the stage child, we want to hear the maestro, not watch an overly flowery play lacking in substance!” Another catcalled.
The audience members jeered, and erupted with laughter whilst Varrus stood on the stage, and House Vandercross acted as a wall to push them back.
“L-Last D-d-dance!” The blonde, pretty boy maestro shouted in fear. His magically enhanced voice spread through the crowd, resulting in a swift and nervous silence to permeate the air.
The Highborn that had been laughing and mocking a second ago had all fallen silent.
Varrus bathed in the silence like a plant absorbing the sun.
The uncertainty, and subtle hint of fear wafting towards him was like the most intoxicating of ambrosia.
It was glorious.
Varrus had realized long ago that his father, old man Vandercross may be incredibly unpopular, but the people listened when he spoke.
If being a villain in the public eye meant being respected, then Varrus would wear that label with pride. The more he thought about it, the more convinced he was that the political strife between his father and the previous King was manufactured.
Varrus was okay with that. Kael could be the face of fairness, the beloved celebrity. While he was the boogeyman that enforced a spine within the populace.
To the citizens of Quel'Thalas, he was once nothing more than a notorious playboy. Silvermoon and the other survivors had long been disillusioned from this notion.
However, to the sheltered residents of Sunsail Anchorage, so divorced from reality, Varrus's ascension to the First Seat must seem like a joke of the highest order. It was like seeing a 10 year old become the Prime Minister.
But then that same child was recorded murdering high level socialites at a famous party eligible to only the most talented and connected members of society, and there were no consequences.
Well then, some jokes had to be taken seriously!
Projecting the weight of his mana, and the effects of Imposing Presence outward, Varrus commanded the attention of every eyeball in the open air theater.
Thousands of merry goers were silenced by Varrus's mere presence.
“Some of you seem to think the war is over. Perhaps you've read the news reports, and come to the conclusion that with Tha'salah secured, and the traitor Queen slain, that there is peace. Well you'd be dead wrong.” Varrus addressed the crowd, and began to pace the stage, his voice rose in volume after every syllable, every step of his echoing to his march.
“As we speak, your King is handling the remnant Amani. Your Convocation is rearming, and training themselves for the conflict to come. I am due to leave for foreign lands and gather allies. The Scourge remains undefeated, and is growing in number every day. Yet here you all are, enjoying the sun and dancing to the music!” Varrus gestured angrily at the musician, and shouted his disdain.
“I supply a hundred Mana Stones to this city every single day. It is by my grace that you still draw breath. It is by the sacrifice of the men and women fighting on the front lines that you can smile so freely. I do not wish everyone to be a combatant, nor do I command you respect me. But you will respect the soldiers who fight and die for your freedoms.” Varrus paused in his pacing, and held his arms wide, gesturing to the rest of House Vandercross.
“Loom at them. Look at these survivors! The day the Scourge attacked, each and every one of them took up arms, and resisted. They answered the call so you didn't have to! They saw their families eaten before their very eyes so that we can all go back to a life of peace. But that time has not yet come! There is work to be done. Ships to be built, trade to be conducted, fish, food and a million other supplies necessary for the survival of this nation!” Varrus heavily breathed as he looked several members of the audience in the eye, yet each and every one of them ducked their heads.
“What you need is motivation. I can see that peace has made you soft. Remember this feeling, and hold it close to your heart when you think of slacking in your duties to this nation. Because the men and women on the front lines feel it every second of every day.” Varrus solemnly ended his speech by raising his hands high, and unleashing a spell.
Crimson lights left Varrus's hands, and a fog of red spread amongst the crowd.
The fear inducing spell, Hysteria spread through the audience like a plague.
People screamed, ran into one another, and panicked like a group of chickens knowing the fox had come.
Syra clapped gleefully at their misfortune, and even Rho'dan could be seen sporting a small grin.
“Death would have been too good for them, but this is a performance for the ages. These base creatures will remember this for the rest of their paltry lives.” Syra covered her mouth, and laughed at their misfortune.
Varrus glanced at Syra, and shrugged his shoulders. He didn't want to kill anyone, but these people needed to be taught a lesson. They were all one country, one nation that must share both weal and woe.
“A drastic option to be sure, but the Convocation is not to be disrespected. I shall endeavor to spread word of this throughout the kingdom. Your father would be proud.” Rho'dan shallowly nodded at Varrus, yet kept his eye on the crowd, ever observant for any sudden attacks or assassination attempts.
Varrus nodded. He had once disdained everything his father had stood for. But the more he interacted with the world, the more he understood that he acted the way he did for a reason.
The Highborn were an advanced race, highly intelligent, highly educated, and possessed technology akin to the best of Western civilization. In some cases, such as teleportation, they even surpassed Earth technology. To wrangle immortals with access to all these amenities, strength and a firm hand were much more effective tools to govern the populace than something like democracy.
After all, a person was smart, but the people were stupid. The fact that these residents were partying so hard when the rest of the nation fought for their lives was evidence of that.
“It had to be done. We can ill afford any more detractors from within. We just overcame our country's largest betrayal and civil war. I will not tolerate any further bungling or malcontents to destroy this tenuous victory.” Varrus spoke with an edge to his voice as he watched the audience members continue to freak out at one another in a state of unmitigated fear.
He took no pleasure in their mental agony, but he recognized this as a necessary evil to motivate the people. If these immortals would not recognize the grace and understanding Varrus had previously granted them with free Mana Stones, then he would have to show them that there was a cost to be laid for slacking during a national emergency.
Varrus let this spectacle go on for 5 minutes, and then he canceled out the fear with the calm spell: Harmony.
The running and screaming Elves all stopped their random acts of panic, and looked to Varrus with a mixed cocktail of expressions.
Some had anger or resentment, yet the majority were instilled with a healthy dose of fear and obedience.
Smiling at the crowd, Varrus raised his voice one last time.
“Our nation is teetering on the brink of annihilation. What you experienced is but a taste of the horror Silvermoon experienced that fateful day 6 months ago. Now begone! Take the memory of this day, and never let go! Each day you wish to party whilst our soldiers are on campaign, remember that I, Varrus Vandercross, First Seat of the Convocation of Silvermoon am always watching.” Varrus boomed, and dismissed the crowd.
As the attendees filed out, Varrus saw the maestro try to slink away. Nodding at Rho'dan, his guard got the memo, and gripped the musician by the shoulder.
Tossing him at Varrus's feet, Rho'dan stood back with his arms crossed.
Varrus paused, and smiled at the trembling man.
“Relax, I'm not going to hurt you. I have a few simple questions for you. Do you know any Human music? Any sea shanties perhaps?”
Glancing left and right, the musician remained silent, and hung his head low.
“Answer him.” Syra drew her blade, and rested it on his shoulder.
“Yes! Yes, I know them!” The musician cried out.
“Congratulations. You've been shanghaied. Welcome aboard!” Varrus forcefully helped the violinist took his feet, then shoved him towards his guards.
“Waitz wait, you can't do this, my fans!”
Varrus merely glanced back at him, and the musicians suddenly shut up.
“Hm. Come Syra, we have a voyage to take.” Varrus held out his arm.
“I've never been on a cruise before!” Syra skipped up to Varrus's side, and took his arm.
“Surely you sailed on some boats when fighting during the Orc War?”
“But never on a cruise with my beloved!~” Syra cheered, and snuggled close to Varrus.
“Well…I haven't been on a cruise then either. Rho'dan, grab our new friend-Lightswallow, was it?-and make sure our vessel is stocked with the finest foods, wines and other beverages that Sunsail Anchorage has to offer! All on his tab of course!” Varrus gestured towards the musician, then walked away.
“This cannot be happening.” Lightswallow groaned in despair.
“You heard the Highlord. Come along now, we don't want to leave Lady Vandercross waiting, otherwise you might be short a pair.” Rho'dan muttered, and pushed the musician forwards.
“But my brother is the governor, First Seat or not, he can't just do this!” Lightswallow stomped the ground in indignation, and crossed his arms like a pouty teenager.
Rho'dan paused in his steps, and backhanded the musician to the cobblestone floor.
Blood and a tooth sprayed out of the musician's mouth as he fell.
Squatting down beside the maestro, Rho'dan gripped his hair, and lifted his head.
“The Highlord can do anything he wants. We live in a state of martial law. If the governor raises any complaints, he can be replaced.” Rho'dan whispered.
The musician shuddered as he was hauled to his feet, and force fed a healing potion.
He glared hatefully at Rho'dan when the guard looked away, but was quick to look docile when Rho'dan looked back.
“I like that look of revenge you have going on. I like schemers, especially when they spill their secrets in the dungeon.” Rho'dan threatened, and snapped the maestro's finger like it was nothing.
“Mnnmm!” The maestro tried to shout, only to have his mouth covered by one bear law sized, gauntleted hand.
“This is how it's going to go. You will direct us to the best establishments, and you will pay for the food. Any discreet notes, nods, or wordplay will result in a broken bone. Nod if you understand.”
Upon witnessing Lightswallow nod, Rho'dan removed his hand.
“Aren't you going to give me another sip of the potion?” The musician cradled his hand, and said whilst he winced in pain.
“Welcome to House Vandercross, we appreciate your donation, and resolve to aid this nation in its most dire hour of need!” Rho'dan patted Lightswallow on the back, and pressed him forward.
“I’m doooomed!” Lightswallow bemoaned his fate as he was forced into the nearest upscale restaurant.
Comments
Kasikan
When everyone else in the nation is fighting for it, but they're sitting back and laughing, then they're clearly not part of the nation. Better to cripple the enemy within before they cause more problems for those dealing with the enemy outside.
Conor McGroarty
That would risk them rioting during withdrawals. But perhaps rationing them so they aren’t completely satisfied could work? But then you have to have people monitoring those who work hard and those who don’t. Not to mention there is still room for civil strife. Plus MC has already cemented providing mana stones as a national welfare thing months ago and can’t back out now. Just gotta find other ways to give them a kick in the butt.
Kasikan
Personally would have cut off their access to mana stones. Make them fight to earn them. If they don't, then they deserve to die.
