Moral Stand (Aether’s Revival Book 7)

Gregory didn’t take a horse with him. The town wasn’t that large, and the magus lived relatively close to the barracks. It wasn’t quite the seventh hour, so the town was still waking up for the day. As he walked, Gregory paid attention to the people who were up and about.

A eurtik man pushing a two-wheeled cart was stopped next to a pile of horse manure, scraping it off the street. The back of his left hand held a brand that clearly marked him as a slave. Gregory’s lips thinned; he didn’t know why the man had such distinctive fur markings— white stripes in his black fur— but he figured it was just his heritage.

A couple of men stood nearby, snickering as they watched him work. “Still smells better than you, doesn’t it?” The eurtik didn’t reply, instead continuing to work. “Bet your mom smelled like that when she gave birth to you.”

The eurtik again didn’t reply. He just finished his job, then moved along with his cart. The two men grumbled, but went the other way, upset that their target didn’t lash out. Gregory shook his head as he picked up his pace, having slowed to watch the exchange.

A beaver eurtik was shifting barrels from a cooper’s shop. She walked them out, then set them up in front of the shop on the porch. Each got a sign stuck into the corks on top, showing the prices for them. Gregory made a mental note of the shop and prices, just in case he needed to replace any of his barrels later.

It was a few minutes later when the realization began to dawn on him. Nearly a third of the people he’d seen here were eurtik slaves, and all of them were doing drudge work either for the town or a business. The sheer number of slaves in this town was staggering to him; he’d expected it to be high, but not quite that high.

Gregory’s lips compressed as he imagined all of these slaves ripped from their homes and loved ones. It might’ve taken decades, but for so many in the town to be eurtiks, that meant at least an entire village or two were there as slaves.

The home he reached wasn’t a manor, though not from lack of trying. It was grand compared to the rest of the town. The biggest difference between it and most manors that Gregory had seen was that it was entirely made of wood. There was no stone used in its construction that he could see. It was two stories tall and took up three times as much space as a traditional house.

The front door had a brass knocker in the shape of a cloud. Gregory paused, then remembered that it was the clan emblem for the Gentle Breeze clan, a small clan that’d split off from Swift Wind a century ago. They’d opted out of the trading that Swift Wind focused on, normally using their magi to help farmers of the empire. For Gregory to see someone from that clan out here was surprising to him.

The butler answered the door after a minute. The moose eurtik took up the doorway, but bowed to Gregory. Gregory was swiftly brought to a parlor, then served tea by a vole eurtik maid while he waited. He was halfway through the cup when the magus finally arrived.

Sweeping into the room with graceful strides, the man looked barely older than Gregory. His long black hair was pulled back with ivory combs. Shrewd light blue eyes met Gregory’s as he advanced. “Adept Pettit, correct?”

“Gregory Pettit of Aether’s Guard, Magus. I am reporting that my unit is here to take over the patrol between here and Icelake.” Gregory stood, bowing. The magus bowed back, but a fraction less deep.

“Sit, Adept. I am Magus Lee Artok of the Gentle Breeze clan.”

The pair sat, and the maid refreshed Gregory’s tea after making a cup for Artok. They sat in silence, sipping from their cups. Yukiko had explained to Gregory the decorum of having tea at another’s home; the guest should wait until the host was ready to speak.

It was a few minutes later when Artok broke the silence, “I’ve heard of you, Pettit. Your two years at the academy saw you win every tournament but one, but even that one went to your clanmate. That includes the tournament with Buldoun; you didn’t lose a single fight there. The honor your clan accrued because of your prowess hasn’t been small.”

“My clan helps raise me up. The least I can do is return that to them,” Gregory replied.

“Admirable. Gentle Breeze doesn’t try to recruit from the academy. We’d rather magi who’ve finished their obligations to the empire join us. We help them find good homes that match their magic. I am a wind magi. I’ve been called on twice in the last twenty years to defend the town from attacks from bane beasts and a large pack of eurtiks who thought they’d free their kin. My wind blades stopped all of them.”

Gregory kept his face impassive. “You’ve been here for twenty years? I would have thought these posts were… undesirable.”

Artok chuckled. “Well, to most magi, they probably are. A man with insight can see how to make a posting like this work for him. My clan is recalling me next year, sadly. All I’ve built here will be left to the next magus who takes my position. Maybe that’ll be you, Pettit.”

“No, sir. I’ve already been informed that my magus posting will be at the embassy in Krogga.”

“Krogga? Who did you upset to be posted there?” Artok asked, one perfectly manicured eyebrow rising.

“I requested it when I won the Buldoun tournament. That’s why I was surprised to find out what my adept posting was.”

“I would say so…” Artok murmured. “The sage at the academy must dislike you. It matters little past your magus posting, since he is stuck there, but it still makes me wonder what you might have done. Did you kick his dog, or sleep with his wife?”

“Maybe it’s to teach me humility?” Gregory suggested.

“Hmm… perhaps, but you don’t seem overly arrogant. You might have hurt one of his favorites during a tournament, not that I’ve heard of him taking a hand in anything. It’s quite interesting.”

“Reminds me of the ancient proverb,” Gregory chuckled.

“‘May you live in interesting times.’ Better you than me,” Artok laughed lightly. “You do know the routine you are to use for patrols, right?”

“Five days out, two days rest, and then return using the same pattern. I was wondering about the route, though. Is it always the same? Wouldn’t that make it easier to ambush a patrol?”

“That’s a good question, and not one I hear until after an adept’s first eurtik ambush. The answer is no. You can take all seven days to reach Icelake or here if you want, just as long as you start your return when you should have. The same is true if you make your men double march for a day. It would mean an extra day off in the town.”

“The towns aren’t worried because you’re here, and Icelake has a magus, as well, which means that anyone knowing when the patrol leaves is not a concern for you.”

“Correct. You can always leave earlier than needed if you want to take a longer patrol, too. I’ve had a few adepts do that in the past.”

“Any specific reason to do that?”

“So they could range farther out and capture a few eurtik for themselves. Most sell them off. Slaves are good money. A few kept them for personal use, or even for their men. The only rule is that they are chained or caged when brought to the gates. I have to go out and brand them with runes before they come inside the walls. I can’t let unmarked eurtik into the towns; who knows what they’d do?”

Gregory managed to keep his expression neutral. “Does that go for the slavers, too?”

“Of course. The few I have sanctioned always make sure to remember my limits. After all, magi can only do so much any given day,” Artok said fondly. “I charge them more when it’s more than ten brands. My aether is important to the safety of the town.”

“You charge them more if they bring more than ten?”

“Price is dictated by demand, as my teacher always said.”

“I’ve heard that often.”

“Adept Grabil will be in later today with his men. I do trust I won’t have to intervene between your units?”

“My men have been told very specifically to give the other unit a wide berth so they can rest, sir. I’m sure they’ll want to rest after their last patrol.”

“I expect them to stay for three or four days before they set off for Grabil’s magus posting. He’ll be heading to a quaint little town down near the Limaz border. Even if he takes his time, he’ll still make it before the solstice. He must also have upset someone to go from the coldest adept posting to the hottest magus posting.”

“Maybe his clan leader wishes to test him?”

“Perhaps. At least his magic will be useful there. Sending a water magi here was… unkind to him.”

“I’d think so,” Gregory winced. “It’d mean they didn’t need to cart as many supplies, but it would hinder his ability to fight off ambushes.”

“Exactly. It cost him a squad, last I knew, if he didn’t lose more on this last loop. I’ll find out tomorrow when he comes to debrief.”

“I had a question about unsanctioned slavers, sir. How do I tell them apart from those you have sanctioned?”

“I know those I’ve sanctioned. They’ve come to me here before they set out. It is that simple.”

Gregory bowed his head, but kept the smile off his face. If the magus wasn’t making them file the forms required under the slave laws, it would give him a wedge he could use if needed. The laws stated that those engaged in catching new slaves had to have the proper forms so a magi could inspect them. It was to stop rogue agents from posing as slavers while helping to free eurtiks. Laws are laws, Gregory thought. I’ll have to be judicious about when to push that.

“I understand, sir,” Gregory said. “Are there villages of eurtiks close by?”

“Normally weeks away, but sometimes, they range closer to the towns. It’s usually hunting parties or fools intent on trying to stop a group. It’s been at least a decade since the last big attack on us or Icelake, though we might see one in the next few years. Alas, it’ll be another’s problem and opportunity.”

Gregory nodded as he set his empty tea cup aside. “It will not be mine, either, then.”

“Very true. You’ll have your hands full of Kroggians wanting your blood.” Setting his cup aside, Artok stood up. “It was pleasant to meet you, Pettit. I look forward to your debrief after your first loop. I wonder how well you’ll do?”

“I’ll strive to impress, Magus.”

“All new adepts say that, but few are able to make me take note in a positive way. Just try not to lose an entire squad on your first trip. It’s always terrible when that happens.”

“Yes, sir,” Gregory said. He kept his face blank even though he blanched at the idea of an entire squad being killed during a single loop between the towns.

Gregory was escorted out by the butler a minute later. Back on the streets, he went to find a baker— it was time to restock the bonuses he gave his men and the boys.