Chapitre 421: Chapter 419
Aola did not come to him again the next night, or the next, or the next. On his first such night after that, he was actually relieved, but he could hear her outside singing, there were many elven harvest songs, things slaves sung that nobody really listened to while they tilled the fields and harvested the grain.
The songs were always low, quiet, more a hum to the less than perfect human ears, even if they could be heard by the elves who sang.
But that night, their voices soared.
"One day we'll be free! To wander 'neath the sky! To be just you and I! No harness on my back, and I will never hear whips crack! One day we'll be free-e-e-e-e! No one hunting where we lie, no more tears within my eyes! I will be fre-e-e-e-e! To hold my head up high, no one to tell me I must die, I will be fre-e-e-e!"
Vargas shuffled to his tent flap and poked his head out to see, and saw Aola leading a chorus, she was holding a cup of mulled wine that sloshed onto her wrists and clothing.
"I can walk forever more, from here to any shore, I will be fre-e-e-e-e! I'll eat the food from my own land, no one to take it from my hand, I will be fre-e-e-e-e-e! No hounds to ever run me down, no chains to lead me round, this world I'm free to walk, to raise my voice to talk, I will be fre-e-e-e-e-e!"
"God set me fre-e-e-e-e!"
She snapped her head toward the sky and flung her cup down into the bonfire to the applause of her fellows.
'I wonder if all their songs are like that?' Vargas pondered, then slid himself back into his tent. He listened as they sung a few more, they were all like that, they were not 'drinking songs' and though it seemed improbable, he couldn't help but think that Aola wanted him to hear it.
"Nonsense. But she does have a beautiful singing voice." He mumbled and went back to sleep.
Every night was like that, each time, Vargas kept them outside the fortifications, more for their safety than for anything else, as he couldn't trust that the Theocracy soldiers wouldn't mistreat them and force him to respond.
They made no complaint, even if they had to stay away, it seemed they recognized as well as Vargas did, that the humans inside the walls were more dangerous to their lives than any creatures outside.
Vargas preferred not to think about that, and he managed to avoid it until they reached the walls of Wheaton.
As cities went it was impressive, he'd arrived that morning, and on every side of the city there were endless fields of golden wheat, not for nothing was it 'the city of gold'. Not for the coin, but for the crop. It was also the breadbasket of the Slane Theocracy, with a multitude of latifundias dotting the landscape and multiple roads branching off the long, wide roads over which trade flowed like a river.
Establishing their temporary encampment was fairly straightforward, and establishing his obligations was easier. The elves were skilled with field craft and most already knew the tending of horses even before they'd learned how to ride.
His orders for them were simple. "I will be going to the administration of labor and requesting a list of every elf registered to somebody in the city. You will be expected to search those lists for any names matching those we have as well as cross reference that to the estate where they are located. I will likewise procure a list from the Breakers, and inspect their facilities for any black market trades that may have slipped into their power. Then we inspect the latifundias and count their registered numbers, we see if they match, and if they don't?" He shrugged.
"If they don't?" Aola asked.
"Punishment." Vargas replied.
If that didn't get them to work hard, nothing would.
Of course… it wasn't as easy as he quite hoped.
It took a full day just to bring the documents out to the encampment, the number of slaves held inside and outside the city even without the independent Breaker Academy that reported only to the temples themselves were in vastly greater numbers than he expected.
But it was done, and by nightfall the elves had candles lit and were going through searching for needles in a sea of haystacks. 'And of course if their names were changed… it might all be for naught.' Vargas thought as he laid down for the night while his elves remained awake and working.
Just to be sure, he patted the space beside his bedroll and found it empty. 'Aola didn't visit again.' That did actually bring a little twinge to his heart. Her recent absence was a break in a routine he'd grown 'accustomed' to.
He sighed, "I suppose she's mad at me… well, it's true I didn't tell her she's got a soul too… but I also didn't deny it…" It was an inadequate protest to himself and he knew it. "It's probably for the best, though, she was getting too attached to her own imagination."
"Well, that's a fine never-you-mind. My imagination?!" Aola said when she poked her head through the back flap so that her face was over his. "You don't call me over, you don't talk, you don't ask me to do anything for you, and you really should because Vargas, you need a bath." She pinched her nose shut and shook her head.
"Aola?!" He exclaimed when he saw her hovering overhead and listened to her rebuke. Then her words caught up to him. "Of course I need a bath! So do you! But there was no stream near us for the last three days!"
"I. Do not. Stink." She protested, "That's what you say to a woman when she pokes her head into your tent. No wonder you're not married."
"I-" Vargas was about to retort, much to his surprise, he'd missed their banter, but she put a finger over his lips and over hers and shushed him.
"I don't think you're soulless." He said, disregarding her attempt to shush him.
Her eyes seemed to tremble for a moment, but she ignored that and carried on. "I know I keep harping on this, but I do believe in you. I don't care what you've done before, I know who you are now. The others won't say anything, they're rash, they're hoping you'll lose your temper, but they're not thinking ahead to the aftermath. In the morning when we go to the academy, I want you to promise me you won't do anything rash. Bind your temper, use a martial art or magic to impose calm on yourself if you have to. Promise me."
"What do you care? If it's as bad as you say it is, and if I am this mythical hero you imagine me to be, wouldn't you want me to be some avenging angel or champion of your kind?"
"People. My people." She whispered, "And yes… yes I would like for you to do that, but…" She looked toward the other end of the flap, "They all think you're invincible, they've built you up in their heads into some kind of a god. But I know you're not. I've seen your scars, you're a man, not a god, and a man can die. And I don't want our liberator… I don't want Vargas to die, not even for my revenge."
She cut off any attempt at asking her for more by lowering her face to his and covering his lips in a kiss. It stunned him into immobility, as if she'd cast a paralysis spell over him.
And then it was over. "I've never been happy to kiss a human before now." She said, and patted his cheek. "You taste a little salty. But not bad. Now, tomorrow, when we go in, I want you to remember also, I believed in who you are, before you did."
Vargas swallowed the disbelief that lodged in his throat, and then she was gone again. 'A dream?' He wondered. It had been almost surreal.
He still hadn't decided if it was a dream or reality by the time he actually did fall asleep.
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