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Chapter CXII – For he shall have judgment without mercy.
🕑 Added 2024-11-09 09:50:26 +0000 UTC
7th of Autumn 5859
Libertycave, Mount Curry
Today was a cold day up in Mount Curry. Snow had been creeping lower and lower as the temperatures fell, and the copper rooves of the city were seeing their first snow. Thankfully, for the copper workers at least, there were loads of kilns to warm them up.
Bilal, the former foreman and current mayor of Libertycave, wiped the sweat off his brow. “Folks, it’s break time. Let’s have lunch” he shouted into the busy crowds of kilnworkers working their faces off. He personally helped extinguish the kilns before exiting the copperworks along with the workers. He looked back at the building. The copperworks that were once a lone kiln out in a field had been constructed up into a massive building, a “factory” as Brown referred to it, which housed a hundred copperworkers during work hours, along with tons of copper brought from the copper mines up on the mountain. The bricks and copper roof of the building had been manufactured inside the copperworks itself, with a nice wooden gate donated by one emancipated carpenter. Right next to the copperworks were a set of lodgings for the workers and their families that included a dining room which they were heading to.
Entering the dining room, Bilal was greeted by a mess of workers claiming places to sit down. Some had packed their lunches, some were cooking it themselves in the kitchen, some were paying others to cook for them. Chairs were still a luxury, so most were sitting down. So did Bilal sit down as he had been left with no choice. He had a pack of hardtack in his pocket which he quickly crunched down on. Soon there was no hardtack, leaving a thirsty Bilal going outside to get water from a newly constructed water fountain. Mount Curry had plenty of water over and underground, so these fountains had been popping up like wild grass all over Libertycave.
With his thirst satiated, Bilal decided to take a visit to the public face of the copperworks. It was a small building right next to the factory with a sign on the door declaring “copper tools, trinkets, and everything in between sold here”. Bilal was happy to see that the stalls outside the shop were stocked with goods, from knives to lockets, and the salespeople operating the stalls greeted him as he approached. “Morning, Mr. Bilal.”
“A fine morning to you as well. How are things? Any problems?” asked Bilal.
“No, sales are going well. The new mirrors we’re selling have been doing especially well.” The salesman held up a polished copper mirror. In the absence of glass, a “mirror” was just a metal disc that was polished enough to show Bilal’s reflection on its surface.
“Excellent. Anything else?”
“Well, there was one odd thing…” The salesman looked back at a door which served as an entrance to the warehouse of the shop’s stalls. “Just now, a pair of foreigners came in and inquired a bunch about our goods. When I told them that there was more in the warehouse, they asked to take a look. They’re still inside the building.”
“That really is one odd thing. There aren’t many foreigners around these parts.” Bilal checked if the dagger in his pocket was still in its place. It was, just in case that this odd pair turned out to be hostile. “I’ll take a look.”
Bilal entered the door to the warehouse. It was a crammed room full of copper goods which resembled a maze more than a warehouse. He could hear a pair talking to each other.
“…this too. The construction lacks in skill, but there definitely is passion and artistry behind it.”
“Indeed. With some better kilns and training, these guys could rival the dwarves in quality.”
“Well, maybe not the dwarves. That’s a bit impossible to do.”
The pair was startled as Bilal suddenly appeared behind them. “Good morning. What brings you here?”
“Oh goodness!” The man jumped up. So did the woman right next to him. “We- we were just inspecting the craftsmanship of the copperwork here.”
Bilal hummed, curious. “…and who might you be?”
“I’m Mis, and this here is my husband Altan. We’re smiths from Zon’guldac. Your Commander-in-Chief told us that we’d be needed here.” The couple greeted Bilal in unison with a bow.
“Oh, Captain Brown? He had sent a letter telling me that we’d get some help from Zon’guldac…” Bilal inspected the couple. They were well-dressed, both of them carrying large backpacks on their back. It seemed that they were bringing all that they had from home.
Altan continued their speech “It’s been quite hard for us back in Zon’guldac, what with the dwarves overshadowing whatever we make. They have this one metal, ‘mithril’ they call it, that they extract from this odd contraption and don’t let anyone else use. How are we supposed to compete against that?!”
Mis interrupted Altan before he went on a rant “Ahem, we brought along whatever we could put on paper. In exchange for employment and housing, we’re willing to help you set up kilns suitable for processing iron and steel. Believe me, your Republic isn’t going far with just copper spears and tools.”
Bilal found that a large grin had formed on his face. “Glad to have you then. I’m Bilal, the mayor of Libertycave. We have empty rooms in the lodgings, and the people over at the copperworks will appreciate your work.”
“Oh, one last thing.” Altan took out a piece of paper from one of his many pockets “Your Commander-in-Chief gave me a letter that was addressed to the mayor.” He handed the letter to Bilal.
“Thank you.” Bilal took the letter sealed in an envelope. It had Brown’s handwriting on it, though it looked hastily written. “You should head to the copperworks. Tell the people there that I sent you.”
With that, Bilal and the smiths separated. Unable to contain his curiosity, Bilal opened the letter right after they left.
To Mayor Bilal:
The tides of war have hit our shores once more. Karabush is scouting out our territory, most likely for an assault on our territory. The Empire is making moves against the dwarves on our border. Get your kilns fired up for mobilizing once more. Here is what the army needs…
7th of Autumn 5859
Yellowclover, State of Casamonu
Today was a cold day up in the village of Yellowclover. Despite the cold however, the peasants were out to sow the last of their winter wheat on their newly granted plots of land. The mass of people moved forward and back, some on oxen some on foot, letting the soil taste delicious seeds of wheat. Shirin, the sister of Shinasi, was hard at work too. She had gathered a few relatives and friends and relatives of friends to help with the sowing on her father’s plot of land.
Work was finished by the time that the sun began to set, and the whole village gathered around the central square to celebrate this year’s sowing being done. There was much revelry, and a whole lot more beer, and Yellowclover was alive and well as usual. The festivities would have gone for much longer if not for the familiar drumming of a crier approaching the village. The flow of beer stopped as the crowd went silent to hear the crier make his announcement.
“Hear ye hear ye! A cavalryman sent by Karabush was captured scouting our land in Casamonu. The forces of the Empire surround us, and now they plan to crush us. Our Republic calls upon its able-bodied and brave to defend her. Food and lodging will be provided those who join the National Guard in the 2nd Infantry Regiment. Those who wish to join should head to Casamonu and apply. Remember: if the lords of the Empire are to come back, they won’t have mercy. Your land will be taken, and you’ll be back to barely subsiding on what little grain will be left untaxed. Defend the Republic if you wish to defend your liberty.” After a short little pause, the crier repeated the message again, and after the third time, he left Yellowclover to do his job in all the other villages around Casamonu.
In Casamonu, war was soon going to be back in fashion.
