Black Magus

Letta Sinclare.

***

“Aunt Letta! Auntie Letta!”

Before I even turned, I saw a pale-skinned, red-haired boy nearly tripping over himself before he bumped to a halt against my thigh. And as if nothing had happened, he doubled over to try and catch his breath and rattle on and on about something at the same time.

“Honestly.” I pulled some water from the air and held up the bubble to his mouth. Then tried to hold back a giggle after seeing him cradle his hands around the orb as if he were holding it himself. “You shouldn’t let your excitement get the best of you, Elric. You’ll get hurt.”

“I’ll be careful.” He gasped. “But, I want to be strong! And, as fast as Sir Toril! Because I have a job now!”

“A job?” I dramatically recoiled. “You’re hardly eight! That’s more than I had at your age, you know.”

“Mhmm!” Elric beamed, melting my heart. “It’s Elric’s Runners. But, I’m the only runner for now. I work for a few hours after school and on the weekends.”

"Congratulations.” I knelt to pat him on the head. “You should be proud of yourself, Elric. I’m happy for you.”

“Thank you, Auntie,” he said, pulling away from a hug.

“So.” I stood to rest my hands on my hips. “What’ve you got for me?”

“A parcel from Uncle Gio,” Elric said as he stepped aside to allow his Doppelganger to open a portal of darkness. From it, rose a paper-wrapped sack that grew to stand taller than the boy did.

“A set of self-mending clothes, for your convenience. Signed, Giorno.” Frowning in surprise, I turned away from the attached note and reached into my pocket to flick a silver coin to Elric. “Thanks.”

After fumbling with it in the air, he held it in both hands to stare and visibly fight back a frown for a second or two before he turned to leave without another word.

‘Tch. Ungrateful brat.’ I sneered. Then laughed as the tower's bell rang, causing the boy to jump mid-stride and run off a bit faster. Right past Amun and Mayor Silas, emerging from the tower’s shadow with Jaimess and almost a dozen residents trailing behind them.

“Nine days and this place has transformed before our very eyes.” Silas dreamily sighed as he looked the tower up and down. “It’s always been theorized that Time Magic would be… groundbreaking, to say the least. But I never would’ve imagined something like this was possible.”

“This is only the tip of the iceberg.” Amun casually laughed through his nose. Causing a wave of confusion to show on everyone’s face until he continued, distracting them from their hypotheses. “This is the last order of official business. This tower has four functions. The first is obvious.” He looked up at the clock face above.

The structure started as an area marked off by string. A roundabout was then placed around that rather large footprint, and then a tower of stone bricks was erected to stand 56 meters over the Outer Yard. That slim black shard had then been accented with marble trimming and windows before I toiled to create and connect four illuminated, milk-white clock faces.

After the installation of the bell, the result was a timekeeper made tall and wide enough to be seen from any residence or any spot in the Outer Yard. Moreso, everyone now had an alarm clock. But, more work still had to be done.

While I got back to my main job, others toiled to fill in the interior and add a warehouse and stable onto the eastern end. With those tasks complete, we could finally move on to phase four.

The Trade Bureau.

An ostentatious set of double doors on the southern wall led through an antechamber that boasted a similarly adorned entryway. Beyond it was a spacious room that, like many other districts, smelled just like the forest floor. Only the trees and layers of duff were replaced with marble tiles and wooden beams stretching high overhead. Where hanging pots housed dozens of drooping stems and swaying leaves that loomed over what looked like a chapel. Three large reception desks had been placed before the eastern wall, in an angled bow shape. Creating a barrier to the many doors and chambers that lie beyond and adjacent to the structure. Before it sat a line of pews, shouldered on each side by a trapezoidal display board.

“This desk is for the Employment Center, and it corresponds with this board.” Amun paused to point to the left desk and corresponding pedestal, where the hundreds of citizens had been coming to peruse and chose which occupation they wish to learn and report to the desk to receive the corresponding books and enroll in school.

“The desk on the right will be the Request Board. For any citizen who happens to be an Initiate, but isn’t part of the military. This one.” Amun flicked his finger to the center desk. “Is why we’re here.

“What will colloquially be known as the Trading Bureau will elevate Hill Base’s wealth by a few orders of magnitude. Me and my vassals will continue to pour wealth into our economy, and we can mint more, but we can’t become a true capital city without having imported and exported goods. As such, the Bureau will have three functions.

“First.” Amun jerked his thumb at the window, towards the stable and warehouse. “The Bureau will be the first and last stop for caravans coming in or leaving Hill Base. Every caravan that leaves will have to register its wares, personnel, and destinations with the Bureau for the sake of accountability and logistics. Once that’s done, their carriages and horses can be prepared and stored overnight to facilitate their later departure. Incoming caravans will similarly report here upon arrival. Once they’ve been logged, their wares can be offloaded and distributed to the place in question by the Bureau’s staff, by a local business, or by themselves if they’re selling to a market or individual. In doing so, we hope to reduce the presence of carriages in the Inner and Outer Yards. Now.” Amun turned, waving over his shoulder. “Follow me.”

So saying, we followed him up two flights of stairs, into a drafting room that was nearly as vast as the main floor below, yet it was as cramped as could be. Most of the floor was occupied by a ringed table that’d been canted inward to slant towards the rotating depression at the center. Wherein a map of everything west of the mountain range sat for our viewing pleasure.

But it was more than just a scale model copied from the one we were given. It was a three-dimensional replica of the Western continent. The entire thing was marked with grid squares and contour lines. Bits of stone and raised dirt mimicked the plateau that housed Hill Base, the towering mountain behind it, and the rolling plains spreading beyond it. Filled in with clumps of moss to resemble the sea of trees, interrupted only by the dirt paths or the lakes and rivers that’d been carved into the bed and filled in with dyed glue. Borders, towns, settlements, and trails were all modeled in miniature cityscapes of stone and had been annotated with tiny flags and slips of paper. It was the most creative thing many of us had ever seen. Yet, as always, Amun seemed uncaring of the shock and praise we displayed after seeing the results of his efforts. Instead, he used his magic to stand on the ceiling while the rest of us settled around the table.

“Second, is the Bureau’s primary mission.” Amun pointed up; or down, at the map. “To monitor supply and demand in every region, including our own, and decide which locations are suitable for established trade routes. The third mission is to then build a road leading into the wilds and eventually connect them to the cities we trade with.”

“Which brings us to why we’re here,” said a small and charming man with thin-framed glasses and thick sideburns. “As the representatives appointed by Lord Amun, we form the city council. And, as the Lord stated, we must coordinate if we’re to understand what we have and what we need. To that end, I will start by introducing myself.” He splayed his little hands across the table and gave a room-warming smile. “I am Yaramin Springwood, Hill Base’s humble Minister of Commerce. If I may ask that we go around the table and summarize what’s needed and what our respective departments are flourishing in, I’ll begin.

“Here.” He raised a tiny finger. “Any citizen of age can start and own a business or sell any good, so long as they operate within the confines of the law. That extends to children in pre-approved occupations or apprenticeships as well. With their parent’s approval of course. Also, let it be known that there is no tithe or tribute for the citizenry to pay, and the only tax will be in the form of a service fee, here in the Bureau. Lastly, we will take from our deposits for a bit longer to mint out a deeper treasury for ourselves until we fully commit to trade.”

With a smile and a nod, Yaramin gave the floor away. Allowing it to be taken by a rather burlesque woman with leathery skin and sandy-brown hair. “Savannah Otto, Chief of Agriculture,” she said in a motherly tone. “We’ve been given all the seeds we could need and our composting farms are almost to the point where we can begin fertilizing the Outer Yard and outlying areas. As for what we need, that’s simple. Livestock. And some rain.” She chuckled.

‘Rain?’ I perked up. ‘I’ve always wanted to see rain.’

“Ken, Chief of Engineering,” he methodically said. “We've no lack of materials. Tools have been made for everyone, so everyone’s been focused on creating those designs of yours, Lord. I’ve been havin’ to make sure they keep up on production so they have something to sell. An' I don’t blame em! It’s-”

“We feel the same way, Ken.” Yaramin kindly wound the dwarf’s excitement down and gestured to a slim and tall man with a fat bald spot on the top of his head. Like an egg cradled in a nest of straw-yellow hair. “Oliver Wheaton, Chief of Communications.” He bowed. “As of now, we have a startup courier service and newspaper company. Given a few years, I wish to expand the former into a central post office and mold the latter into a publishing and copying company. Once Ken’s engineers have created a working model of your… transceiver, we can install a proper office for that upstairs. But until then, we’re stuck with runners, horseback, or pigeon mail. All we need then is a surplus of paper, but I feel it would be wise if we make our own. So.” He shrugged with his hands. “Some trees?”

“Very well.” Amun nodded. Then, for some reason, looked in my direction. “Next?”

“We have all the hard materials we need,” I explained after a long moment. “But soft materials. Leathers, feathers, wool, and other types of materials are lacking. So, it’s as Savannah said. Livestock.”

“I request for much of the same.” A somewhat worn man stood from the opposite end of the table. “Hello, everyone.” He meekly waved. “You all know me as Nicholas Cooke. The chef of Crooked Tavern. I’m now the Commissioner of Health. As the others said, we need animal products. Most importantly fat for soap, and meat so we can keep balanced diets.”

“Your knowledge has proven to be interesting. I need herbs and materials for my ointments and brews. How will you procure them?” Demanded the old witch, Myrtle Crowe. In spite of her age, she was beautiful. Stunning in the same sense that a natural vista would stop one in their tracks. Like a tree that had existed for eons, yet retained the verdure it had in its first century of existence.

But that was no excuse for rudeness.

“I’ll tell you in a minute,” Amun smirked, then turned to the barbaric man sitting next to her.

“We have everything we need except manpower,” the man, Rodin, said.

Following the Captain, a lean and withered old man with a drooping gray beard wiggled out of his seat to address the council. “As Oliver said.” He wheezed. We need an abundance of paper and more, books to fill our vast libraries. However.” He beamed his uncomfortably brilliant teeth. “I would like to announce that each of our citizens is literate and each child is enrolled in school. Our university is in full attendance, and only twenty percent of occupations are left to be fulfilled. Though.” He panted. “As others have stated, many of those businesses could do with more personnel.”

“Alright.” Amun nodded after leaving the floor open for a full minute. “I recommend we start by finding three locations deep in the woods. The first will be for a hunting cabin, located furthest. The second, on the other hand, will be a foraging hut for the Mistress.” He snickered. “It would be most efficient for the cabin to be occupied full-time. Either with hunters living there or coming back and forth in shifts. If we’re lucky, these will give us the means to find incubating eggs or a pregnant goat or something in the wild, otherwise, we’ll have to buy whatever livestock we can. As for its location, it will be a fair ways away from the gate, yet closer than the hunting cabin. And it will double as an apiary. The priority will be to regrow whatever we manage to find and manage bees for a source of wax and honey. And a courier will bring back what they find; or, they can haul it in between shifts. I'll leave that up to the individual to decide.

“The final locale will be a bit closer to Hill Base and will have a larger footprint. Allowing for more functionality.” Amun grinned. “On it will be two lumber mills. One pair to make construction lumber and other materials, and the other to be chained to a paper factory. To prevent deforestation, each mill will double as tree nurseries. Any objections?”

Rodin raised his hand at once. “These outposts are far from the walls. How do you want them secured?”

“Do rotational shifts, put a guard on permanent duty, or build a lookout post nearby.” Amun shrugged. “Whatever you come up with, it’s your choice."

“Understood.”

“So that makes domesticated animals, paper, books, and people,” Silas concluded. Then stood with the boy appointed as his junior to point to a small hamlet a stretch to the south. “Animals can be purchased in Colis, around five thousand kilometers away. They’re a startup like us, but they’re backed by a noble. So they’re likely to have an abundance of livestock and books for purchase. The capital would be the safest bet for livestock.” He moved his pointer to a vast bordered region and sighed. “But, we wish to stay away from that place.”

“That’s no problem.” Amun shook his head. “The problem is the distance. You’ve all been trained to fly and have dimensional storage pockets, but you can’t fly back with livestock. And I highly advise against storing them in your Shadow Pockets.”

“That means it’s around two months of travel one way,” Silas said. “And that’s without livestock.”

“If we can finish quick enough we could have those ‘vehicles’ you designed. But.” Ken gently slapped the table and let out a deep sigh. “We would still need roads.”

“The only other way would be to travel by water.” Amun shrugged. “But carving a canal across the continent isn’t worth the investment just yet. So we’ll make do.”

‘Just yet.' I shook my head in disbelief with the rest of the council.

“Like the capital,” Silas said, pointing to a vast cityscape that encircled a bulbous lake at the end of an inlet. “We should also stay away from the counties bordering it to the east and west. In between the river and the mountain is Natural Valley. The most fertile land on the continent. And all of it belongs to the Empress. Making it off-limits, even to those in high society, much less us. To the west is the Epfair Marsh, the training ground for the Epethian Guard.

“So too should we avoid the northern region, Sodiak Fjord.” He turned the table to point at the region we passed through upon arrival. “The entire region is too far from the capital for any meaningful trade or communication.”

“We’ve seen it.” Amun nodded. “They’re in poverty. Struggling. They may prove to be willing to immigrate here, but they looked like they hated us when we were passing through.”

“Only because you look rich.” Yaramin huffed. “I assume they’ll be willing to come if they’re guaranteed riches as well. If the rumors are true, those in the Fjord are stuck between a rock and a hard place. Growing food is difficult there and the sea is rough, in turn, neither they nor anyone else is willing to make such a long journey across the continent to make trade. It’s normal to be resentful in such a predicament.

“If we can get immigrants in Sodiak, we’re left with choosing a place to sell our wares. And there’s no better place than Canovista Landing.” He slapped his pointer to a vibrant city placed along the western shores, sitting between the two aforementioned regions. “Since the inlet leading into the capital is so treacherous for sailors, Luton was established as the center of commerce for the Empire and has remained so for centuries. Everything from ore and livestock to pristine enchantments and masterful equipment comes through its ports before going anywhere else in the Empire. On top of that, it’s a city with renowned shipyards that has no share of nobility. As they all reside here.” He moved southeast across some rolling plains to point at a magnificent castle town. “In Mirfield. Many of us come from Luton as well,” Yaramin added. “We know the area quite well. But the journey is long and we’d have to pass through the checkpoint in Droria.”

“Is that bad?” I thought aloud.

“We will have to pay a toll and they will attach an escort to us.” Yaramin shrugged. “So long as we stay out of trouble, it should be of no harm.”

Amun mumbled something to himself, catching the eyes of a few before he dramatically clasped his hands together. “Alright.” He sighed. “Until we have access to better facilities, technology, and enchantments, we have to accept our losses and plan accordingly. As such, we’ll plan a voyage to Colis, no later than a month from now. We’ll aim to import as much livestock as we can but stay away from recruiting anybody. If they’re backed by a noble, we want to assess the situation and remain cordial with them. We don’t want to recruit anyone if it makes us get on their bad side. We don’t want any enemies that close to the empire. Not yet.”

“Yet?” Yaramin jerked his head up.

“I surmise they’ll be after artisanal goods.” Silas continued uninterrupted. “I’m sure they have all the resources they need to grow, given their circumstance. But it’s because of that that they have few of the things they want.”

“Then it’s settled,” Amun said. “Once the first caravan returns, I recommend holding another council meeting to discuss what went right or what went wrong, then decide if a road should be laid between our settlement and theirs.”

“It shall be done.”

“After that.” Amun pointed to the Fjord. “I recommend sending a caravan to either Wolfwater or Wavemeet. The intent will be not to sell, but to give charity and invite people to settle here. Recruit as many people as possible along the way, but only those you deem trusting. Or at the very least, sane.” He added with a raised finger. “ If we have to help them, rescue them, or free them from slavery, we’ll do it. They’re too far for the Empire to care. And we have the facilities to protect them if need be. After the Fjord has been reviewed, our focus can turn to Luton. Then, we’ll send our largest caravan yet and sell our finest exports for profits and, hopefully, lure a few merchants into traveling back with us to Hill Base. And when they arrive.” Amun grinned. “They’ll be treated with the greatest hospitality we can give them.”

‘Then it’s a plan. Any objections?” Silas paused to read the room before turning back to Amun with a nod.

“Any other questions, comments, or concerns?” Amun asked. “Speak now, or forever hold your peace.”

“Yeah, erm.” Ken meekly raised his hand. Then proceeded to speak slowly in the ‘proper’ dialect he was taught. “I’ve caught word of there being a feast to celebrate the work finishin.’ That true?”

“It is.” Amun beamed. “The chefs are cooking up a mountain of food in a time chamber. So, tell your family and tell your friends to come to the royal court.

“Cause we’re having a banquet!”