Commerce is the lifeblood of Pangera, so the Conglomerates would have us believe. Perhaps it’s even true, but arguing with those scaled merchants and their smug sense of certainty makes me refuse to entertain the idea in public. In the post-Rending world, it was indeed the establishment of trade routes, safe passages carved out between monster nests and Dungeon vents at terrible cost, that once again allowed civilisation to flourish.
Frequently, it was the Abyssal Legion who undertook the task of re-connecting the people of the world. Armoured columns of veteran soldiers, pushing across the surface of Pangera, carving out roads and safe paths, then doing the same within the Dungeon itself.
Some of those paths are used even today, thousands of years later.
In the modern world, trade in the essentials for survival has subsided, though is still prevalent, and luxury goods proliferate in markets across the Dungeon. Obviously, this is a good thing — civilisation must advance, after all — but sometimes I wonder what would happen if we were to be driven against the wall once more. How quickly could we adapt, if the ground beneath our feet were to shatter and erupt with monsters once again?
This world was broken once. It can happen again.
- Excerpt from the private notes of Altharion Greyhame.
Desert Basin is aptly named. Due to it being a desert. I mean… the basin part is probably incorrect? I don’t see a dip or depression, after all. The mountain rises high in the distance, towering up a dizzying distance, tens or hundreds of kilometres, to crash into the ceiling above, just like every other mountain.
I don’t know how they did it, but the lizards managed to take the lush green paradise of the fourth and turn it into this barren wasteland of stone and sand. I guess they like it this way, and perhaps it’s the best defence of all. Nobody else would want to live here, so why would anyone try to take it from them?
Despite the lack of plantlife, there is plenty of activity along the shoreline. The port we arrive at is absolutely bustling with activity. It’s not even fair to call it a port, really; it’s a straight up city all of its own. There are thousands of ships docked on huge jetties that extend far out into the water.
People of all sorts can be seen moving about, unloading cargo, shifting goods, arguing, drinking, eating, trading. All in all, the Basin appears to be absolutely thriving.
However, as expected, we quickly run into our first hiccup.
A furious Eran Thouris stomps up and down the deck by my right legs, scowling at the still-distant port.
This story has been unlawfully obtained without the author’s consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.
We’ve weighed anchor and come to a stop, waiting for permission to dock, but are being held up for some reason.
[They’re saying our papers need to be double checked,] Eran practically spits, [as if I’ve ever made a mistake on docking forms in my entire life! The gall of these lizards!]
[If there’s no error, then why are they making us wait?]
Marzban points an accusatory finger toward the Legion fleet, which is slowly moving toward the docks, the ships crawling with soldiers preparing to disembark.
[It’s politics,] the warrior says acidly. [The ka’armodo want to let their allies in the Legion dock first as a show of support, and to send a statement. The Abyssal Legion is more welcome in Desert Basin than your Colony.]
[If they didn’t want us to come, they could have rejected my request weeks ago,] Eran fumes. [If they’ve wasted my time, the time of the Conglomerate, then there will be hell to pay!]
I wave my antennae in a calming pattern.
[Hey, let’s just be cool. They want to make a show of support to the Legion cause, it’s fine, that’s not a bad thing. Once those guys have unloaded their boats and we’ve been made to twiddle our legs out here on the water for a few hours, they’ll let us dock and everything will be fine.]
[We can’t twiddle our legs,] Marzban corrects me.
[Give it a try some time, it’s good for your joints.]
My soothing words turn out to be prophetic. The Legion unloads their ships without incident, then we sit around for a while doing nothing, and then the ka’armodo dock masters allow us to approach and start to disembark. Not that we don’t get our fair share of unfriendly looks.
In fact, we get way more than our fair share. Despite getting themselves billeted somewhere, the Legion still sends some folks to keep eyes on us. There’s a strong contingent of ka’armodo and their setsulah servants around, hundreds of them, making sure everything is on the up and up. Interestingly, they don’t seem to care if the entire ant contingent gets onto the land. Perhaps they’re more confident they can track us if we tried to go underground?
And… of course, ‘they’ are here as well.
A mind brushes against mine, gentle as a feather, and whispers.
[I bid you welcome, on behalf of the Red Truth.]
Great.
The contact is broken as soon as it’s made, but the message has been sent. If the Ancients weren’t bad enough, the cultists who worship them are always sniffing around. It seems like they want to make contact at some point while I’m on the mountain, which is going to be interesting. Hopefully they don’t get caught and bring down the Legion even harder on my back.
Eran spends hours negotiating with the dock masters as they throw up obstacle after obstacle, but she’s annoyed after the stunts they pulled, so she goes all out, smashing through every barrier with her superior abilities and grinding them into the dust to make a point.
When all is said and done, the Colony is once again allowed to make ourselves a cosy little nest away from the main buildings of the port city and the brathians settle in nearby.
Our welcome wasn’t exactly friendly, but it was warmer than I expected, all things considered. Legs crossed, we can get out of here quickly after hawking our wares.
No Comments Yet
Post a new comment
Register or Login