Nero Walker, Book 3 Ch.82 (197) (Patreon)

The local chapter of the Knights of Oglivarch was created during the founding of Dorchester. Since its inception, they have served as the backbone of Dorchester’s military arm. Even when the Dorchens rebelled against the crown, the knights took up arms in defense of the citizenry. While the Populators and Dorchen’s forces fought for control of the city, it was the knights who protected the people. And it had cost them greatly.

In the aftermath of the rebellion, their keep lay in ruins and their numbers were decimated. But, their honor and integrity were rewarded.

During the rebuilding, the crown itself declared that only the knights were worthy to lead Dorchester’s forces. As a reward, after the religions were separated from the power structure and moved to the religious district, the knights were given the former Church of Serine as their base of operations. Located within sight of the City-lord’s keep, the Bastion of Honor stood as a reminder to the politicians of their responsibilities.

For over 2000 years, within the Bastion they have trained and supplied the officers for Dorchester’s forces. In all that time, their code and values remained unchanged since the city’s birth. In Dorchester, it was universally understood that the knights were the ultimate representation of all that was good and honorable in the bodies, minds, and souls of humanity. They were the bulwark, the lance, and the spirit that defended the people from all that was wicked and unjust.

Or, at least that’s what he had believed.

Now, Grandmaster Jonas Lancel wasn’t so sure.

Standing at ease on the balcony overlooking the training courtyard, his emotionless face was so chiseled it looked carved from stone. While what he’d heard was concerning, his uncompromising green eyes still held a depth of will that could freeze even the strongest of knights in place. Between his dominating presence and his six-foot-nine height, he made whatever room he was in feel small. And despite his presence in the ether remaining calm, the advisory commanders all held their breath, not wanting to disturb the grandmaster’s contemplations.

Without turning around, Grandmaster Lancel asked in a whisper loud enough to shake the room, “Have you verified the captain’s claims?”

The advisory commanders all exchanged looks, silently begging one another to take the lead and answer the grandmaster’s question. Sighing in defeat, the weakest among them stepped forward and replied, “The moment the formal accusation was reported, it was automatically sent up the chain of command and reported to the disciplinary board. I… We… haven’t had a chance to investigate yet. But, records are already being collected, and the Tower of Law has been alerted to monitor our response.”

Still not bothering to turn around and address the advisory captains directly, the grandmaster replied, “I see.”

The silence stretched, and advisory commanders began to fidget uncomfortably as the grandmaster’s presence weighed down on them.

Right before they cracked, the grandmaster’s calm voice continued. “We as an order are responsible for leading the entirety of Dorchester’s military forces. Every officer, from the lowest captain to the general at the head of command is one of ours. During their service, our knights give up their claims to their houses and forego politics for a life of duty and honor. It is the cornerstone of our order that we remain separate from the hierarchical games of power. OUR games are played on the field of battle. OUR forces remain untainted by concerns that would conflict with our purpose…”

Once again, the grandmaster fell silent, letting the advisory commanders ponder his words and where he might be going with them. Not knowing what to say, they stayed silent and waited to see if he was done speaking.

Suddenly spinning around, the grandmaster’s presence grew as he shouted, “WE ARE NOT POLITICIANS!”

Every commander in the room flinched and shrank in the face of the grandmaster’s fury.

Striding toward them like he was going to physically chastise them, the grandmaster approached them and… glared.

His voice was hard as stone, and his eyes were burning with inner fire as he shouted, “There is a REASON that the only interaction our order has with the nobility is through the general WE appoint to lead our troops. Necessity might require more, but the general is the ONLY one who should be considering the ramifications of politics.”

Locking eyes with each of the advisory commanders, he stared them down until they couldn’t meet his gaze. “I want a comprehensive review of every one of our policies and standards. Start with the recruitment authorizations and continue until you’ve examined our placement protocols. If you find ANY evidence of impropriety or even a HINT of dishonorable practices, then I expect you to report them immediately. Determine the veracity of the captain’s claims, and let NO ONE in the chain of command deter you. Now, go, and know that I… WILL.. BE… WATCHING!”

The grandmaster watched dispassionately as the advisory commanders fled the room.

Reigning in his anger, he returned to the balcony to stare out at the training courtyard once again. His thoughts continued to race as he contemplated how his grandfather might have handled the situation.

He was a seventh-generation knight, one who’d risen through the ranks on his own merit. His family long ago left behind their titles to serve the people as knights. Duty and honor were in his blood, and he’d be damned to all the hells below if he let the standards of his knights fall enough to allow for scheming and dishonor to become acceptable practices under his leadership.

‘Perhaps with 300 years in this keep, I’ve become too complacent. It might be time to step back onto the field and remind these young knights what it truly means to be a Knight of Oglivarch,’ he thought grimly.

—--

Nero took a moment to calm down and organize his thoughts. He knew he tended to jump to conclusions, and the past few months had made it clear that things had changed now that he was no longer hiding behind the anonymity of the internet. When he spouted off his knee-jerk reactions to what he was seeing, people were able to look him in the eye and embarrass the hell out of him. He’d learned from his mistakes… slowly… but eventually he had learned.

Trying to keep his voice steady, he looked back over to Academian Quincy and asked, “So, let me get this straight. All across Oglivarch, there is a system, or series of systems, in place to punish criminals by forcing them to do mandatory community service. These systems give the criminals options to pay off their ‘societal debt’ in any manner they see fit, up to and including fighting in wars on behalf of the local government. For repeat offenders and career criminals, ‘mind healers’ can evaluate them, labeling them as a danger to society and installing mechanical-type magic link things in their heads to control their minds. And for those that are deemed too dangerous, execution isn’t off the table when they aren’t just shipped off to fight Oglivarch’s enemies as cannon fodder. That about sum it up?”

Academian Quincy seemed to be enjoying Nero’s analysis. His smile had almost become a smirk as he listened to the young man’s summary. “In broad terms, yes. While your understanding is in no way comprehensive, nothing you said was actually wrong or inaccurate.”

Nero nodded and replied, “Right… So, how haven’t the powers that be been overthrown by rioting citizens demanding freedom from oppression? And how come this option wasn’t given to the city lord’s kids and Lord Blackwood?”

For some reason, Academian Quincy seemed surprised at Nero’s questions. “Well, first of all, no one is rioting because the system is fair, just, and universally accepted as the best way to reform and monitor troubled citizens. And the answer to your second question should be obvious… they were nobles.”

Widening his eyes in surprise, Nero nearly shouted, “What do you mean ‘they were nobles’!?! Are they too important to demean themselves with community service like the rest of us? How is that ‘fair’ and ‘just’?”

Snorting in amusement, Academian Quincy replied, “Nero, the entire nobility structure is already basically community service. Houses are by their very nature set up to serve the people. When a noble breaks the law or does something that acts against the good of the people, they fall in status until they are either executed or lose their title and enter the courts as a common citizen. They are held to a higher standard, not a lesser one.”

After taking a second to think about it, he couldn’t disagree. Both Cosgrave heirs were punished harshly, exiled, and executed for their schemes. Lord Blackwood’s house was financially gutted, and their head of house was executed as well. Even with a cover-up, Nero had been told that the Blackwoods would be losing their influence by falling lower on the ‘ladder’. Although to be honest, he still didn’t fully understand how the ladder actually worked.

Trying to shift gears, Nero said snidely, “Fine. But what about the mind control and the whole swearing of their undying loyalty and stuff? How is that not slavery?”

Academian Quincy rolled his eyes in amusement. “Lord Walker, you are a noble. Granted, you’re no longer part of Dorchester’s hierarchy, but you are nonetheless a noble. The option of every citizen is to give up their independence to join a house as an adherent, a servant, or even a vassal in the case of nobility. By accepting them into your service, you’re essentially taking on their social debt under the assumption that their service to you would count as their service to the community. Furthermore, as their pledge would be for life, it trumps any city penalty that could be given out. While you won’t have the advantage of monitoring them through a Thought Hub, you will have the ability to execute them or punish them at your discretion without oversight. If you wish to call that slavery, then I cannot stop you.”

Nero was about to remind the man that he hadn’t explained the mind control, but Academian Quincy held up his hand to stop him.

“I understand your skepticism. All of this may seem strange to you based on your background. I can’t imagine what type of system of punishment your former world had. However, you need to temper your instincts to automatically look at everything in a negative light. While being a cynic can work to your advantage, cynicism itself is a poor mechanism for true understanding,” said Academian Quincy.

The numerous critiques Nero had been preparing suddenly felt very weak. The translation magics of the world implanted the academian’s meaning directly into his head. When he heard ‘cynic’, he felt like it meant skepticism and not jumping to conclusions. While ‘cynicism’ sounded like immediately assuming the worst, regardless of the reality of the situation.

Nero had to admit, if he were being charitable, he’d probably be able to fill in the blanks of the situation in a way that sounded much more reasonable than what he’d been assuming. Community service and active monitoring could be interpreted as active social reintegration and outreach. Even the ‘mind control’ might be better defined as magical emotional support and mental reconditioning. It didn’t necessarily HAVE to be anything evil or uprising-worthy. After all, no matter how bad it sounded, it seemed to be working just fine for them.

Before he could continue the debate, he heard Captain Angleton’s voice ring out over the entire area. “Everyone, begin preparations to move out. Stay in your assigned units, and watch out for each other. Squad leaders, pay attention to your orders and make sure your troops stay in formation and don’t do anything stupid.”

Academian Quincy patted Nero on his back and said, “You should get going. Your battle-leader is waiting for you.”

Nero bit back his reply as the Academian was already walking off to rejoin the other evaluators. Frowning in annoyance, he figured he might as well rejoin the wackos.

Pushing through the troops, he made his way over to Cathleen’s position. He found it more than a little ridiculous how many criminals had chosen to join up with their little assault force. With his short height, he couldn’t even guess how many there now were. ‘Where the hell are all these people coming from?’ he wondered.

When he got to the front of the formation, he found Cathleen talking with Mike the assassin, and Captain Angleton. They were surrounded by groups of people standing behind them like advisors or something.

Walking up to them, he tried to inconspicuously listen in on their conversation.

Cathleen seemed completely at ease and in charge. Looking up the captain, she ordered, “You and your elites will take command of the groups that Hunter Harring will assign. I along with Lord Walker’s Wackos will act as the center of our assault. Keep the edges tight, and make sure we don’t outdistance the support and healers in the back. I’ll maintain overall operational command, but as we’re no longer being fed intelligence from Command, we’ll have to adjust to whatever we find. Stay safe, and kill whoever gets in your way.”

Nero nearly giggled at hearing Cathleen say ‘Lord Walker’s Wackos’. But he managed to hide it behind his hand.

Seeing the meeting break apart, he watched as everyone began organizing the troops into formations. He could feel the ether changing as the enthusiasm transitioned into cold hard determination.

Cathleen caught his attention by saying, “My lord. I would like you to stay near me, but far enough from the front of the formation that you’ll be able to cast without interference from the melee. You and the ranged damage dealers will have to do what you can while whatever mages we have maintain our shields. We’ll be moving too quickly to bring along any of the generators, so we’ll have to rely on ourselves for our protection. Specialist Howard said you haven’t learned group casting, so I doubt you’ll be much help with the shield. But, do what you can.”

Nero nodded numbly, trying to follow what she was saying. Once again it felt like there was so much implied information that he was forced to fill in the blanks.

Offering her a thumbs up, he replied, “No problem. Lead us to victory Battle-leader!”

She merely nodded firmly with determination before turning away and shouting at the wackos to hurry up and get into formation.

Sliding back behind the melee fighters, Nero took his place among the archers and casters. While the ones around him were wackos, he could see the other sections had penal soldiers in mismatched gear acting as mages. ‘Looks like even people with training in magic aren’t smart enough to avoid getting their asses thrown in prison… or given community service or whatever,’ he thought to himself, still struggling with the concept of how these people dealt with criminals.

Shaking off his concerns, he decided he wasn’t going to miraculously begin understanding their society. He figured the academian probably had a point. Jumping to conclusions, or just condemning things without any actual research was idiotic. For all he knew, their mind control links were this world’s version of anti-psychotics. ‘Wait a minute… was it legal back home for the government to forcefully proscribe medication?’ he wondered to himself, struggling to remember how it worked back on Earth.

As everyone around him started to move forward, he matched their pace and groaned. ‘I never even understood my own country’s criminal justice system. What kind of an asshole am I being by judging theirs?’ he asked himself.

Rather than belabor the point, he forcefully dismissed the subject entirely and focused on what was going on around him. He could already see several groups of mages beginning to form shields above the troops marching into battle.

Using his ability to perceive things through his essence field, he did his best to follow along with what they were doing. He could see that each mage was casting an individual shield spell form, but they were somehow merging their resulting spell’s essence with whoever’s shield touched their own. They weren’t overlapping, or sitting next to each other. The shields were actually merging. Even watching it happen, he didn’t understand it.

The Wackos on each side of him raised their shields, and Nero watched closely as their spells merged above him. He could somehow tell that whatever essence interference was happening all around him wasn’t hindering the process. Instead, it was somehow reinforcing it. Not wanting to screw anything up, he held back on casting his own to try and feel out what was happening. For some inexplicable reason, he was sure it had something to do with the whole group-think phenomenon he’d noticed earlier.

Concentrating on the emotions and fields that were all around him, he began to sense a communal desire to protect the troops under the shields. And suddenly, like a mental fog being lifted, he understood.

The ether was like a lake, and everyone was swimming in it. When groups of casters wanted to work together, their intentions had to be in harmony with each other, or all you got was a lot of pointless splashing. Whatever mental connection that was happening was subtle, but it was there. It also explained why combat magic was so difficult when people were in such close proximity.

When trying to cast a combat spell, or any spell for that matter, the ether had to understand what the caster wanted the essence to do. If there were too many cooks in the proverbial kitchen, the ether became sluggish and confused. Even if everyone wanted to throw fireballs, the size, type, and target would all be different. Uniformity of spell forms, intentions, and purpose were all required to make the ether cooperate.

Thinking back to how he was able to cast whatever he wanted while surrounded by melee fighters, he theorized what had actually been happening.

By separating himself from the emotional flow and conflicting desires going on all around him, the ether was able to ‘hear’ him. ‘I should think about it like frequency modulation or something. Emotional channels, maybe? Here, perception is nine-tenths of the spiritual law,’ he mentally chuckled.

Letting himself slip into the emotional flow, he copied the spell form from the mages next to him and filled it with his center. After taking a few deep breaths to psyche himself up, he allowed to spell to form above him. He felt the shields that were already in place begin to shake a little as if they weren’t sure his shield should be invited to their private party. But, after allowing himself to sink a little deeper into the surrounding essence fields, he felt his shield slide into place and join up with the greater whole. In a way, it was both freeing and terribly confining. It was an emotional contradiction on par with wanting to scream at someone he was deeply in love with for driving him crazy.

While he’d been examining and experimenting, the formation had looped around and approached the fighting. His first hint that they’d arrived was when a massive spell slammed into the shields hard enough to make him wince in mental anguish.

‘Oh yeah, shields replace muscles with brains. No wonder the kobalds sucked at going on the offensive. The mental midgets are probably just as stupid as they are tiny,’ he thought to himself before wincing in pain at a fresh assault.

Glancing over to see how the mages around him were faring, he was annoyed to see them grinning widely and looking forward to the battle. The ether around him practically sang with their uniform desire to push forward and engage with the enemy.

Suddenly, he felt his connection to the emotion flow falter, and his shield began to separate and collapse. Panicking, he tried to reassert control and FORCE it to rejoin the larger shield network.

The mage on his right leaned over and said, “My lord, perhaps you should let us handle the shielding for now. I’m sure you’ll get the hang of it eventually, but now may not be the time to learn how to do it.”

Frowning in annoyance, Nero didn’t even have a chance to release his spell before it shattered, sending a spike of pain into his brain worse than any migraine he could remember.

Furious at having failed so completely, not to mention having been seen doing it so publicly, Nero grimaced and swore vengeance on the lizards. Somehow, some way, he knew for a fact it was their fault.

‘Little bastards probably work on an entirely different principle of magic. That’s the only explanation I’m willing to accept for them being able to do it so easily. Humans are just more emotionally complicated. That has to be it,’ he reassured himself.