Orc Lord

Vyra stepped out onto the balcony, gazing down at the bustling market district below. This balcony was a new addition to the crystal palace, as the castle had noticed her staring out the window and flying to the roof more and more often. These activities had also gained her the skill, a passive skill which allowed her to view distant things more clearly.

“It’s beginning to look like a polished product,” she murmured.

Two weeks had passed since seeing off the Human Knights and their expedition force. For the entire first week after that, Vyra hadn’t rested aside from eating, sleeping, and relieving herself. Every spare moment had been spent forcing the development of Babylon forward. From that, she had gained a skill far more useful than : .

How stupid. The spirits waited until I was on the verge of collapse before they offered it.

She wouldn’t call herself the stupid one for pushing herself so hard. She would have pressed on without the skill if she’d had to. It was simply that important to her.

Rapidly over the past several days, Orcs had been migrating to Babylon. Naturally they would come, since she had ordered them to through Durghan. A mass exodus of Orcs might lead to changes in the West forest’s ecosystem, but it was necessary anyway. If her plans in the coming weeks backfired, those Orcs could have all been slaughtered by descendants trying to get to her.

And it was necessary that Babylon be able to support ALL of them.

A quick glance at the latest census information she had stored in would tell her that Babylon currently contained more than eight thousand permanent residents, almost a third of which were regular Orcs with insatiable appetites, and around three hundred of them were Fomors with huge bodies.

She had kept her promise to Bazarath by freeing the Fomor slaves; however, she had done it only after the first week had passed. By then, she had secretly finished locating the remaining Fomor settlements. She had gone to each of these personally, offering an ultimatum. The settlements could subordinate themselves to Babylon, delivering resources each ten day cycle in exchange for protection and the opportunity to become citizens someday, or they would be slaughtered where they stood. Through psychological and information manipulation, most of the settlements were made to surrender.

Once the slaves had nowhere to return to, Vyra freed them from their slave status and brainwashing. They could leave for the remaining settlements and join them in subordination, or they could remain citizens of Babylon. Naturally, nearly all chose to stay.

Vyra smiled as she saw a Fomor and a High Goblin interacting in a friendly way, occasionally joking together about their lowly origins (she could read their lips from that far). Vyra had always been very strict up front in her management of people, but no one was given unfairly harsh treatment after that, not even subordinated people, and so they were able to adapt to it somehow.

My pet would plot my death if I treated them unfairly even after this much.

The sound of footsteps approached from behind, and Nerun, the High Orc Vyra had chosen as her much-needed personal assistant, delivered a bowl-shaped cup of tea. The fact that she could drink this was largely thanks to the herbivorous Fomors spreading their knowledge in Babylon.

She took a sip of the drink and continued looking at the people. “Has the Scholar been cooperative?”

“I showed him to his room. He’ll probably need more time to himself. I imagine he’s been through a lot recently.”

“Of course.” She took another sip of her tea.

An essential part in allowing the social life of Babylon to develop so smoothly was that she herself enter it as seldom as possible. Those who had been with her from the start had a near unshakable loyalty to her, but new allies were skeptical, and she was a trauma in the hearts of former enemies. Even ignoring her past actions, she was a tyrant and she knew it. Even her appearance alone intimidated people. Every moment she spent in the company of Fomors and people like Ye Surumi did more to push them back than draw them closer.

“It’s a little lonely,” she muttered. Vyra smiled down at Nerun, “Do I have any time this evening to visit mother?”

“Only if you’re willing to stay up past dark, my Lord.”

“I see,” she looked back out over the city, “I’ll do that then.”

It had taken several days, but Vyra had found her emotions again. Thankfully, they weren’t gone after all. She had likely been under some kind of psychological shock after evolving a body with a different brain structure than before and having many of her Mind-related Stats changed all at once. She had a vague sense that her feelings still weren’t exactly the same as they were before, but she would be hard-pressed to point out any noticeable difference.

But it might be nice if I didn’t feel things like loneliness.

The moment she had rediscovered her emotions had been bittersweet, as she was first and foremost guilt-struck at having lost them in the first place, however briefly.

“My Lord, your break time is up,” Nerun reminded her.

“Right.” Vyra suppressed a sigh and tipped the remains of her tea into her mouth all at once. She handed the cup back to Nerun and started taking long strides toward her office. “Have any reports come in from the city?”

Nerun smiled and trotted to keep pace with her, “No, my Lord, we can likely expect a routine report this evening.”

“Then it’s back to drafting laws and policies,” I murmured. “Have we gathered enough staff to man the Hospital yet?”

“Nothing’s come in since midday, but there are plenty if we only consider the maternity ward and the emergency ward.”

“Thank goodness for that.”

There were less than two weeks left until all the pregnant Orc women were expected to give birth… All at once. In a situation where almost a thousand women were expected to go into labor, and nowhere near that number could possibly be recruited as midwives, Vyra had found herself close to panicking.

The midwives were to be paid on a loan from the city itself, as it seemed unethical to force the stress of raising funds onto women about to give birth. Instead, they would pay back the loan at a later date.

Vyra arrived back at her office, pulled open the stone doors and took a seat at her desk.

I love this living castle, truly, she commended. Thanks to the buildings in Babylon constantly striving to be their best, they adapted to do what was needed of them. All of the furniture in the castle that she used had changed to suit her body. And it was thanks to the “breathing of many living people” that the city had the energy to make these adaptations. A Goblin could move into a house a Fomor had owned, and it would soon change to suit its new owner. Truly a bizarre but convenient place for Monsters whose physiques could change suddenly.

Etched into the tablet lying in front of her was a draft for policies related to workers unions. The various craftsmen in Babylon were starting to form groups. Vyra didn’t want to stop this, but she did want to ensure that the transition was orderly and peaceful, without involving underhanded dealings.

She had already caught one black-market-like system that a group of High Goblins had been trying to throw together. Incidentally, Goblins started evolving into High Goblins as soon as money was introduced in Babylon. They were unexpectedly greedy little bastards, but they had proved immensely useful by working at the bank and starting some of the first merchant businesses in the city.

Vyra looked down at the tablet and sighed, scratching her temple with her stylus while she struggled to bring up any memories from her past life that could be useful.

The only things keeping this city orderly are these policies and money, and the only thing lending those authority is my personal strength. If I weren’t such a tyrant, this all would have collapsed by now.

Even the bank had nearly been taken over by High Goblins early on. Vyra’s only qualifications to rule a city were her strength, her vaguely applicable memories of a more advanced world, and her status as a Leader-type Monster.

And then a Master Scholar, experienced in educating royalty, fell at my doorstep. Can I really be this lucky?

Most likely not. Vyra had a strong suspicion that Ashtante, matron deity of the Beast People, had had something to do with the black cat Beastman’s change of fortunes.

Speaking of changes in fortune, Bazarath was no longer officially Vyra’s pet, though she still thought of him that way. After all, it wouldn’t do to free all the raid slaves but keep just one at a sub-citizen status. For the sake of integrating the rest of the Fomors, she had let him go. He now worked as a weapon smith.

And to prevent sneaky bastards like him from disguising a political uprising as a gathering of craftsmen, she had to lay down some guidelines regarding workers unions.

Vyra held her head and sighed. I was part of a workers union in my last life, but I still barely know anything about how they work!

As if to save her from her frustrated thoughts, a knock came at the door. Nerun walked over and cracked open the door, peering outside. “It’s Surumi Ye, my Lord,” the High Orc called.

“Let him in,” She ordered, sitting up straighter.

The black cat Beastman stepped inside, unfolding a slightly dented fan and hiding his mouth behind it. “Actually, my Lord, Beast People culturally list their family names first.”

“You’re addressing me when Nerun is the one who said it wrong?”

“When a servant makes a mistake, the shame and burden fall on the master,” the Scholar responded smoothly. “Consider that your first lesson.”

She wanted to protest, but the more she thought about it, the more reasonable, and inevitable, it seemed.

In fact, if I went out to eat on Earth and the waitress made a mistake, like spilling water on me, my impression of the restaurant would worsen even if I actively tried to only find the individual at fault.

She nodded, “Alright, I will concede to that. However, I do think it’s wrong to fault someone for ignorance, since it implies more about their opportunity than their ability.” Vyra set down her stylus and laced her fingers. “You came out earlier than expected. I thought you would need more time alone.”

“To be frank, my Lord, I only came out in search of food. I haven’t eaten since the day before yesterday.”

“You must be hungry.”

On the topic of food, it turned out that clones couldn’t be cloned in an infinite sequence. No matter what kind of healing spell was used, the related spirits would gradually take over each successive clone, creating lower and lower quality materials until some elemental sludge was produced. It had been too good to be true after all. The live Kobolds would have to experience pain every now and then to provide uncontaminated meat.

Also, the nightly feast had been discontinued. There was no feasible way to tend to over eight thousand Monsters that way. Fortunately, the Orcs still weren’t free to empty the reserves, as meals now had to be bought.

But the Orcs all agreed that eating alone was lonely, so they tended to buy their own meals and group up to eat together with friends and family. Vyra too ate with her family every night in the castle dining hall. She usually had Nerun attend as well, since he was always by her side and had become an important friend.

“You’re welcome to join us in the dining hall around sunset,” she said to the Scholar.

“And in the meantime you’ll let me starve,” Surumi muttered behind his fan.

“Yes. Now to distract yourself from your stomach, come help me plan this policy. I’m finding my knowledge on the topic sorely lacking.”

Surumi closed his eyes and apparently refused to take a step closer to her. “What is the topic?”

“The regulation of workers unions.”

“Of what?” His eyes opened narrowly.

“Are you familiar with a system where groups of craftsmen gather together to protect their interests and property?”

“Are you referring to the Crafters’ Guilds?”

“Perhaps. Explain those to me.”

“Virtually all crafters join the Crafters’ Guild branch in their city. There, they receive training and an avenue through which to sell their goods. The guilds report to the city rulers and offer a share of their profits each year, which they gather as a commission fee from the Crafters after selling their goods.”

Vyra pondered for a moment before shaking her head. “No, that’s different from what I’m thinking of.”

“Then how would you describe a workers union?”

“Crafters form their own groups, most often with some kind of yearly membership fee, and there will be many in a city. They group up based on their values, crafts, and ideologies. The leaders of a union, selected from among the members, use the membership fees to invest in better, safer equipment for the crafters when they find someone lagging behind standard, or to pay for a member to get treated if they get injured on the job. They can also use the money to hire politicians to go and meet with government officials to lobby for legal amendments that would benefit their particular union. Or, it’s something like that. I’m sure I’ve got some of the details wrong.”

Surumi frowned and gently waved his fan. “I have never heard of a system like that existing anywhere. I can think of a few similar institutions, but they date back to at least a thousand years ago.”

“Then it’s probably never been applied in this world before.” The giantess leaned back in her chair, “My main trouble is allowing workers unions to have autonomy without letting them go unchecked. There are a few groups of people here who might try to overthrow me if given the chance.”

“I see.” Surumi folded his fan. “In that case, you should structure these workers unions as the ideal places to start a rebellion. In these matters, you’ll have the advantage as long as you know where the problems will rise up from.”

Vyra exhaled deeply, “But where will that leave the ordinary crafters who rely on their unions? If I build that into the system, it will stay tainted forever.”

“Would you rather they hide somewhere where it’s hard to find and crush them?”

“I don’t want to crush them at all.” Vyra shook her head slowly, “I still think those people can come around if they have some more time to cool off, so I don’t want to instigate them to gather and act rashly.”

“But if you just leave them alone, their sentiments will spread to others.”

“That only happens if the social environment is conducive to that spread, but people here have what they need and the public order is good.”

Surumi narrowed his eyes and flicked open his fan. “And you claim you know little about politics?”

Vyra raised an eyebrow. “What? Were you playing devil’s advocate to test me?”

“Devil’s advocate?”

“It’s where you deliberately contribute to an opinion you don’t agree with, so that a debate can properly maintain two sides.”

Surumi’s eyebrows rose for a moment before he lowered his head, smiling softly, “Perhaps I was doing something like that. Anyway, you seem to know the direction you want to head in. What have you got drafted so far?”

She chuckled and held up the tablet for easier reading, “You’ll have to learn to read New Orcish yourself soon. There are language lessons at the academy if you want to stop by. I’ll just deduct the fee from your pay.”

Vyra read out her policy draft and they bounced opinions back and forth for a while, eventually settling on something she found passable.

“Alright, done,” She grinned, etching a final punctuation mark into the clay.

“Just where are you writing all of that?” Surumi frowned.

The Orc Lord raised a fiery eyebrow and turned the tablet to face him, pressing her thumb against a small circle at the bottom front of the frame. She cycled through the “pages” one by one, showing six of them in total. For the first time, Surumi dared to step closer. He leaned in and watched the cycling pages in disbelief.

“This stone tablet is a magic tool?” he asked incredulously.

Vyra nodded. “It’s an application of spacetime magic. We don’t have the technology to make paper, but we have the magical knowledge to make this, so we mass produce them.”

“Mass produced?!” Surumi’s head shot up in shock, and he realized how close he’d gotten to the Monster. His face lost some color and he quickly took a step back, clearing his throat as he hid behind his fan.

Vyra smiled softly and set the tablet back down on her desk. “Dinner will be shortly,” she said. “In the meantime, you can go back to your room and wait.”

The Beastman nodded silently and left the room, Nerun politely opening and closing the door for him.

“It looks like he’ll need a little longer after all,” the High Orc mentioned with a wry smile.

“Yes he will.” However, the giantess found herself smiling, thinking about the Beastman who dared to come out of his room and play devil’s advocate with her, even though he was afraid. I have a good feeling about this one.