Tanya's Third Life as a Barbarian Queen, Chapter XLVIII

I will have the chapter as links to download at the bottom of the post. As well as a link to the Google Document page.

Kontia

Aulus Lyncelius, Felis Slave.

The domus leaned like an old man with a broken back. Smoke still seeped from gaps in the roof tiles even as the faint and misty rain hissed against hot tiles. The tender mercy of the Gods as the flame smoldered across the city. I pressed my claws against the doorframe and felt it tremble but hold.

“This one is ours to clear,” I said. Adjusting the cloth wrapped around my face. “Just be carefu-” I staggered back as the orc beside me grunted and shoved the door open with his shoulder. 

“If the roof falls, at least the job is finished quickly.” Borkus muttered as he stepped into the faintly groaning structure. I hissed quietly but followed the man. If we reported the house was unsafe for ‘reclamation duty’ the Lepus children would come and pull the entire thing down and we would not get our ten percent cut of anything we found. The floor was scattered with ashes and shards of pottery. The smell of wet soot filled my nose. I looked at one of the beams, more charcoal than wood. It groaned, but stayed firm. 

“Safe enough to search,” I said, more to convince me than to bring truth into being. Borkus muttered something under his breath. His hooked pole scraped on the floor as he prodded it ahead of him. The domus had underfloor heating and a cellar somewhere.

We started with the front room. A table stood half-burnt, one leg charred to black. I tipped it over, and beneath it lay a heap of broken plates. The orc kicked aside a stool, then poked at the walls. We took the time to open up cupboards but it looked like this was one of the domus that had been abandoned when the Lepus first took the city.

Finding little but burnt rags and ash we went into the side room. Servants quarters, the stonework having protected most of the room from the fire but a beam lay across the floor near a window broken from the inside, underneath was a body. We did not speak, only sharing a resigned look between each other. Together we shifted it, grunting with effort to free the deceased. They were an adult, burned so badly I could not tell if they were man or woman. I crouched, set the limbs straight with some difficulty, and folded the arms.

The orc gave me a long look. “Still wasting time with prayers? Only Emroy holds dominion here now and they have already gotten exactly what they want.”

“They are owed respect,” I answered.

He pulled down his mask with a quiet grumble before he spat black soot. “Respect doesn’t fill bellies. My kin says Lepus, an entire company of them, came to the docks, our docks.” He grit his teeth, his tusks digging into his face slightly. The docks were the domain of the Orcs of the city, slave or otherwise. “They demanded our fish, paid what they like or nothing at all. You think that is respect?”

I paused, placing a cloth on the dead’s face. “The Queen does not know. She would forbid it.”

He shook his head. “You believe that. They say Lepus in their ‘squads’ take grain from the farmers, too. Harass men in the market. Say it is for the Queen’s war.”

“They are lashed fo-”

“The stupid ones. Who are too obvious, too greedy.” He cut me off with a glare.

I stood slowly. “The Queen gave us more than the Empire ever did. No beatings in the streets, days off in the week, if we find our own work we can do that instead of labours demanded of us. The Queen and her spell, and the Lepus cannons protect us, protected us from the Knights. That means something.”

The orc jabbed his pole into the rubble, dragging out a bent iron pan. “What it means is she wants us to be quiet, to work, till the fields. Gods knows she needs it, she has a large army to feed and armies are hungry things. But we are only useful until we're not. The Lepus will return to their steppe and will take from us tribute until there is nothing left to take.”

“You think things will be like they were.” I looked at him as Borkus regarded me for a moment, then shrugged. “I don’t.” I continued. “I think the world changed forever when Prince Zorzal led his legions into the steppe. I don’t think we could ever get back to the world as it was, where the Lepus roved across their cold grassy plains and aspired to nothing but rape and pillage. It’s over, gone, this is the new world.”

“Sadera is over then? You think her barbarian army will sweep across the land?” He scoffed, I could only offer a shrug.

We moved deeper. The floorboards creaked underfoot. I tested one with my foot. It sagged dangerously. “Mark this.” Borkus chalked a cross on the floor. “Unstable. Best leave it.”

In the next chamber, the roof had collapsed inward. We shifted charred timbers. Under them lay another body. An orc woman, grown. Her braid was still bound though the rest of her hair had burned. She was dressed in silks that had been ruined and copper and silver bands had warped, fusing to her skin in places. I folded her arms across her chest, whispering a short prayer.

Borkus turned away. His jaw worked. “I knew her, a wet nurse. She fed children, the Lepus liked that, had plenty of children for her to feed and she had tits enough for plenty of them, looks like they paid or well for it too. And now she is ash because wyverns... Tell me again how cannons protect us? They can’t stop them attacking, only kill them after they do this.” He glared at me.

I looked at him. “I saw one of those beasts fall from the sky when struck. Shattered in an instant. Without the guns we would all be cinders now. They won’t attack like this again, not when they die in droves, there can’t be enough Wyverns in the world to challenge the Queen.”

“Maybe,” he said. “Or maybe it only means the Empire sends more next time. Wyverns, legions, whatever they wish. She is making more of the cannons, as long as Sadera strikes fast she will die and Kontia burns.”

I had no answer. I only brushed dust from the dead woman’s braid, then stepped aside. We cleared the last chamber. A broken bedframe lay under a heavy beam. We heaved it up together. Nothing under it but shattered plaster. The roof above groaned.

“We’re done here,” I said.

The orc marked the doorway with another chalk cross. We stepped back into the open air. My basket held a pot, some coins, and a handful of tools. He carried the iron pan and a sack full of nails he had been pulling from the walls and floor. Behind us the house sagged, silent except for embers.

I looked once more at the bodies we had set in order. “May they rest,” I said quietly.

The orc grunted. “Rest doesn’t change what comes next. To Hardy with the lot of them, may she judge them well.”

We walked on to the next ruin, the ash crunching underfoot, the air still smelling of wyvern fire. The next house leaned against its neighbor, two blackened shells pressed together. The fire had gutted both, but the stone walls still stood. I pressed my hand against the nearest wall, feeling the heat still trapped in the stone.

“We should check the left one first,” I said.

The orc lifted his hooked staff. “Better you go first. If the roof drops, cats land on their feet.” I gave him a look and he snorted in amusement as I sighed and stepped through the crooked doorway. The floor was warped, boards curled like bark. I tapped one with my foot. It groaned. “Weak here. Keep to the edges.”

The orc marked the doorframe with chalk. Still, he followed me. We moved through the room. A broken shelf leaned against the wall. I pulled it down. Behind it, I found a clay urn in the hidden nook, blackened but sealed. I gripped the thing with both hands and shook it gently. Grain shifted inside.

“Food,” I said, Borkus grasped one of the handles as we both carried the remarkably heavy vessel out, careful to avoid the unstable floorboards. We eagerly returned to the house after our find. We moved deeper into the sagging structure and Borkus prodded the rafters with his pole. Ash rained down, but nothing fell. He grunted. “Safe enough.”

In the far corner, under a table burned to stumps, we found another shape. Human again. A woman, curled against the wall, arms raised as if to shield herself from fire. I crouched, straightened her as best I could, and folded her arms.

The orc said nothing this time. He only leaned on his pole, watching.

Outside, we scratched another mark to warn others of the weak floor. Then we went on. The next building was a workshop. The air smelled of charred wood and iron. Blackened tools lay scattered across benches. I picked through them carefully. A hammer, still sound. A set of tongs, scorched but usable. Into the basket they went. The orc pried up a floorboard with his pole. Underneath, he found a small chest. He pulled it out, but the lid had burned away. Inside was nothing but ash. He tossed it aside with a grunt.

“This work is useless,” he muttered. “They will pay a pittance for this, ten percent. What rot.” 

“It matters,” I said. “Every pot, every hammer, every scrap of grain helps rebuild.”

Gave me a look of condescending bafflement “Rebuild what? The city serves only as fuel for the Lepus war effort, she is Lepus. Her people do as they please. And we pay for it.” I wanted to argue, but the words caught in my throat. Instead, I bent to gather nails scattered on the floor, dropping them into the basket one by one.

We checked the back room. A roof beam had fallen across a bed. We lifted it together, sweating in the close air. Nothing but charred straw beneath. We set the beam aside and marked the wall with chalk. Outside again, the street lay in ruins, ash drifting in the breeze. I looked up at the walls, where the Lepus cannons had thundered.

“I still hear them in my head,” I said. “The sound shook the stones. One shot, and a wyvern’s chest burst apart in the sky. I had never seen such a thing. To see their flame as a water in their lungs, it dripped onto the ground, for hours you could drop things onto the bright yellow bile and they would ignite.”

The orc’s eyes narrowed. “I won’t contest that the Lepus and their cannons are formidable, it is a magic that Sadera will covet.”

“It saved us,” I said. “The wyverns would have killed more than a few thousand without them.”

He grunted but said no more. The fourth building was a storehouse. The front doors were scorched, the roof partly collapsed. We moved carefully. I tested the floor. Sound.

Inside, rows of shelves had collapsed, spilling sacks of grain into ash. It looked like the roof falling had put out the flame and left much of the grain untouched. I knelt, brushed away the soot. A few sacks near the back still held. I tied one off and dragged it out. Borkus took one himself, soon the sacks had joined the urn in our pile. A Lepus child with a board and papers came to make a note of our findings. 

She had one ear and covered up the missing one with feathers tied into her hair so I tried not to look at it. She took our names in the stilted, demanding way all of the bunny children did. Gods knows why their adults behaved as sex obsessed brutes and their children behaved as hardened centurions. Perhaps their race grew mad with age, bloodlust growing in them over time as it addled their minds, it would explain a lot. 

It did make me worry about Queen Tanya. She was a master of magic and everyone knew that the arcane drove people mad. Wizards and sorceresses were a queer lot at best and did not think the way honest folk did. If her race grew stupid with age and she also had magic stealing her sanity also, it would explain some of the woman's odd obsessions. She was powerful, more powerful than perhaps any other sorceress in all the world. Something in her mind told her that all the boxes had to be the same size and she would just command it.

Nothing normal folk could do. She remained a great weapon held against the throat of Sadera. A weapon that was quite willing to give us rights and privileges.

We went back into the building after finding fresh sacks and began the tedious process of gathering up what grain we could to put them into fresh sacks.

“We won’t stand for it.” He muttered at last. “It’s not right.”

“The fish?” I prompted.

“Of course the fish!” He snapped. “Your kind might be fine earning coin on your backs! They love you, sitting in their fucking laps purring away!” I felt my claws dig into my palm as I glared at the ranting Orc. “But us? What do we have! We work! That is what we do, what we have always done and they spit in our face like this.”

“We don’t work?” I looked at Borkus as he sighed and lent on the staff he was using to test floorboards.

“It’s not like that.”

“What’s it like then?” I pressed, struggling not to shake with anger. “Some fishermen got shook down, not even that badly if they got coin, and suddenly the entire world is against you? Why do you care? You are not a fisherman, you are a Slave, you are just like me.” I spat.

“We Orcs stick together. Just, don’t take it personally, I never meant that stuff about you Felis, just on edge.” 

“Oh, you just called my race whores accidentally.”

“That’s not what I said at all.” Borkus rolled his eyes as I dropped a half filled sack and stood over the orc. 

“What are you going to do about it then? Some Orcs, not even slaves, claim they don’t get paid enough for fish, what are you going to do?” 

“We will deal with it.” He growled dangerously as I flicked my tail in frustration.

“Oh, great news for us, more food for us when they kill all of you stupid greenskin fools! A few less mouths to feed!” At that he stood up and glared down at me as I spread out my fingers, showing off my claws. We glared at each other for a moment, taking in deep breaths as we glared at each other just inches away from violence.

“What would you do then? We can’t slink into laps and purr like you, remember.” 

“We tell the Queen.” I told him as he laughed and stepped back holding his head as he shook it. “I’m serious.”

“Yeah, she is going to listen to us.” Borkus said sarcastically. “Just listen to yourself, Aulus. How would you even speak to her?” 

“We ask one of the Cadets. The cadets have their own squads, they don’t spend much time with the adults. We just say we have to report a crime to the Queen.” I explained as Borkus looked around as if he was trying to find an excuse not to do it.

“How do you think that is going to work out? You want to get your head chopped off? Why would she side with us over her own race?” He whined as I picked my sack back up.

“I will report it regardless, and tell them I heard about the crime from you. Now start picking up the grain.” I said, getting onto my knees and working to separate the dust and ash from grain.

“This won’t end well.” Borkus grumbled, but he too knelt down and got back to work.

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Actions have consequences, we can all understand how Tanya cannot manage everything at once but the problems that fall though the cracks can fester very quickly.

https://docs.google.com/document/d/13h26Q5E5nYB81NfPN8MG8OwzDjD1DKtf7BoQhSAoBi8/edit?tab=t.0