The Last Migration

by Starscribe


Chapter 14: Celebrations

The so-called “Tournament of Freedom” was one of the most important civic events in Accipio. Even when tensions between the great clans were highest, even when the clan lords would’ve attacked each other rather than speak publicly, the Tournament went on. That truism proved accurate even now, where the land of Accipio and all that had been accomplished there was buried under feet of ash.

Gina of the Office of Imperial Enforcement, 2nd Seal, had not been kept abreast of developments in the Homeland. As interested as she was to hear what the Emperor’s exploration boats had learned, her own responsibilities were just too important to let herself be distracted. Particularly with the Tournament of Freedom basically stopping civic life for the next three days.

New Scythia filled with the birds of all four surviving clans, but for once there were no accommodations for them and the slaves they brought to compete. So instead they set up camps around the city, meaning enforcers like Gina had much further to go. Her crisp uniform and polished bronze buttons were enough to intimidate most into obedience even if the city watch did not protect her.

Most, but not all. House Valor was as obedient to the law as they had ever been, even if they didn’t always agree with the will of the emperor. But Victory’s birds refused to let her and her enforcers into their camp for nearly six hours, until the city watch was dispatched to force the issue. And Vengeance… most of her friends weren’t even brave enough to enter their camp. Birds affiliated with Virtue had a strange habit of going missing in their new city of Kios.

Gina was obviously not a Virtue bird by birth. Her coat resembled a tiger, with gray stripes on white, instead of the eagle resemblance of Virtue. But Gina still wore the imperial seal on her neck. She had no illusions about what Vengeance intended. But with the first day of the tournament only a day away, someone had to issue competition licenses and inspect their camp. Today, that bird would be her.

Gina had brought friends—not city guards, though she could’ve had them if she wanted. Bringing the watch would just be a painful reminder to Vengeance of the ultimate source of her authority. As much as Gina was loyal to the law first, she also understood the need to be diplomatic. So, she brought her own slaves.

All of them had been personal friends—friends made long ago, following the destruction of house Purity. Two were chief among her slaves—Hogarth the minotaur, who was large and powerful even for one of his kind, and Isabel, her spellcaster. There were a few others. A zebra to pull the cart, a few more wearing guard uniforms.

Gina’s wealth had grown in service to the imperial seal. Nothing near what it had once been, when she had still been an honored citizen of clan Purity. But a free bird could still go far.

As she had expected, the camp of clan Vengeance was a disorderly mess. The ground had turned into a slimy mud-pit across much of the area, making travel between the sloppy tents difficult. The soldiers and citizens milling about often wore nothing at all—far below the respect their stations deserved.

But she wasn’t there to enforce a dress code—there were no laws about fashion. “Take me to the competitors,” she said, leading her small band of slaves and attendants through the camp. “I’m here to issue competition plates.”

And so they did. The slaves didn’t even have tents, or sleeping bags, or anything other than a troth of water and some rations. At least no one had spilled anything in their dusty sleeping area, and it was kept mostly dry.

This wasn’t mistreatment in her eyes, though it was a sign of poverty. Contrary to pony belief, slaves did earn a wage, fixed by law at one tenth the amount a free citizen would be paid for the same work. Seeing the huddled masses of slaves attending today suggested something about the character of the contestants was different this year. These aren’t the well-trained looking for glory. They’re the desperate fleeing for relief.

“Real bunch of wretches this year,” said the guard leading her, his coat reddish and a nasty scar running up his beak. “Doesn’t look good for the clan, you ‘an plainly see.”

“Doesn’t look good for the others either,” Gina answered, though she kept her voice down. She didn’t want the slaves to overhear her agreement. “The others are like this too. If I didn’t know better, I’d suspect that the clan lords weren’t allowing their more eligible candidates to compete. But that can’t be happening, can it?”

The soldier shifted uncomfortably, looking away. “Not in our camp. If you’d like to meet with Lord Santiago…”

Gina cleared her throat. “I’m not making an accusation.” She waved him off with one wing. “Looks like there are less than fifty participants here. I should be finished before nightfall.”

The soldier looked relieved—she couldn’t really blame him there. She was here to enforce imperial law—but if she actually found a violation, the public was unlikely to ever learn. Clan lords just paid their fines in private and avoided embarrassment.

“Form a line, you lot!” bellowed Hogarth, his voice carrying easily through the slaves’ assembly grounds. “No jostling, now.” He thumped his cudgel once on the ground for emphasis, and all the slaves scrambled.

They were mostly zebras, though there was a single bird and a few ponies as well. Many were alone—the property of house Vengeance. They would not need their owners with them to attest to their status. But some belonged to citizens of the house, and in that case they had their birds with them. Most looking bored or annoyed to have to stand around in the mud and wait in a slave line.

I wonder if any of them know they could get freedom if they make it far enough north. Of course, most slaves knew that running away wasn’t a good idea. Gina did not relish the idea of trying to recapture slaves that had escaped over the border. There were already complaints, but she always filed them to the bottom of her priorities.

Gina had the law to guide her now.

Her servants set up a portable desk and set out ledgers and the box of competition medallions. Only when everything was finally prepared did Gina sit down.

The bird was at the front of the line, little to her surprise. She tried to look the other way—there was no missing the familiar pattern of his fur, the dark feathers. A displaced son of clan Purity. In theory, all slaves were the same rank—in practice, bird slaves got preferential treatment. They were the ones most likely to earn their freedom. When they did, they could take their friends with them to a better life.
“Name,” she said, not looking up.

“Gaillard,” he said, voice fierce. As though he expected an insult at any moment and was waiting for an excuse to fight.

She didn’t give it to him. “Do you understand the terms of this tournament, Gaillard?”

He glowered down at her notebook. “I know I’m free if I win.”

“Yes,” she repeated. “That’s… part of it. But you could be hurt or killed. Every year there’s an accident or two. You understand you’re taking on those risks freely, and that you may not win? That your owner may choose to release you if your injures make you unable to work?”

Gaillard shrugged one apathetic wing. “See? Free either way. Put my name down.”

She didn’t pick up the quill. “And you haven’t been compelled into this? If you have, I can take you into custody right now, protect you, and bring your case directly to the emperor.”

“No,” Gaillard cut her off. “I wasn’t forced or tricked. Put my name down.”

She did, then offered him a metal disk. “Welcome to the tournament, four-twenty-nine.”

He practically ripped it out of her claw, lifting the little chain around his neck.

Hogarth thunked his cudgel down loudly, only a foot or so away from the bird. “Move along, friend. Before you say something you regret.”

Gaillard looked like he might object—but apparently he thought better of it, because he turned sharply away and went back to where he’d been loafing.

Gina went through the same procedure with two dozen others, all of which were more polite. A few asked questions, inquiring about the specific prizes being offered this year or the consequences for defeat. A few even decided better of the competition and were dragged away by Vengeance guards to immediately resume their duties. The tournament’s exemption from work didn’t apply to those who weren’t going to compete.

There was only one troubled case. She could tell the instant she saw the way a particularly angry-looking bird dragged an earth pony by a spiked chain around his neck—the only thing compelling the pony to obey. Were it not for those spikes, an earth pony could easily outpull a griffon on the ground. Gina couldn’t tell which of them was angrier.

“One for the tournament,” said the bird, as though placing an order at a kebob stand. “His name is Kelee.”

Gina acted as though she couldn’t even hear him. She ignored his insistent stance, instead meeting the eyes of the slave. “Kelee, is that right?” She didn’t actually write it down, though. She could already tell how this was going to go.

He nodded, tugging once at the chain around his neck.

“He’s mute,” the bird squawked at her. “He knows the rules and wants to fight, just put him down and I can get out of here.”

Gina gestured with her claws, and her unicorn stepped forward, aiming her horn at the bird.

“Drop that chain, citizen. Right now.”

He made as if to yank it again, hard. Isabel was faster, severing the end of it with a flash of power that melted links and splashed the bird with a little molten metal. Hogarth stepped up, getting in his way before he could touch the chain.

“Don’t move,” Gina said, turning back to Kelee. “Now, slave. Have you been in any way compelled to this position?”

He didn’t move, only glanced to one side, past the minotaur to where his master was glaring daggers at him.

“If you have been,” Gina went on, “I will immediately take you into imperial custody.”

“Yes!” he exclaimed, his voice raspy with disuse. “Yes, obviously!”

Gina snapped her claws together, and Hogarth lifted the bird up like an angry sack of potatoes. “Your behavior has been witnessed by an imperial enforcer. Your property is hereby ordered confiscated.” She ignored his screams—screams of vengeance, promises of what he would do to the slave, then her when he was finished.

“I only wish there was a harsher punishment.” Gina glowered at him, then gestured again. Hogarth threw him across the field, so hard that he soared past half the line before landing with a splash of mud.

“Wait by my cart,” Gina instructed, her voice softening. “You are still a slave. But you’ll find the imperial house isn’t so harsh a master.” She looked over her shoulder. “Isabel, get him a regular collar.”

Eventually every one of the slaves who wished to compete had been given their medals, and it was time to pack things up. Gina retreated as Isabel began levitating all the accoutrements of her temporary scribe station back into the various cases, walking away to wait.

“Imperial enforcement,” said a voice from beside her. “A pleasure to see you in my camp.”

Gina turned, then immediately lowered her head in a polite bow. More would be expected if she weren’t on imperial business—but while she wore that seal, she was required to show only cursory respect. “Lord Santiago. Yes, I’ve finished my work for the evening. Every one of your contestants has been entered into the rolls, unless there are more slaves somewhere else.”

“No, this is it.” The new Lord Vengeance was much like his father—handsome, intelligent, and extremely dangerous. Also tactless. “I know most of them don’t have much of a chance. My father and I normally spend a great deal to recruit and train the best, but… under the circumstances…” He let that dangle for a minute. Nevermind that half of the slaves seemed to be listening, albeit covertly.

Gina could only imagine how crushing it must be to hear the one bird in all the world who should’ve had faith in them say ‘they don’t have much of a chance.’ But it wasn’t her place to reprimand. “I’m sure every slave here is eager to bring honor to your clan,” she said instead, voice stiff. She glanced once over her shoulder, but Isabel wasn’t finished packing yet.

“Eager is one word for it.” Santiago stopped beside her, surrounded by his small retinue of guards. They looked far better-armed than the camp peacemakers who had escorted her, though none had firearms.

But do they have illegal guns stashed away in Kios I wonder. Thankfully, Gina hadn’t been sent to enforce that particular provision of the treaty. Eventually enforcers would have to make it out to the ancillary settlements. Once that happened, the true power of the crown would be decided.

It seemed unlikely Gina would be the one.

But she shouldn’t get lost in thought. Santiago was still speaking. “I know you can’t reveal confidential information—but surely you can give me an idea. The other clans, are they much better off? I wouldn’t think they would have the time for this any more than we do.”

“They don’t,” Gina said. “Not Valor, not anyone. The Tournament of Freedom might be returning to an earlier age.” An age before politics had gotten involved, and the honor and reputation of the clans. Back when it had been a chance for any slave who dared to earn their freedom through blood. Back when slaves had died by the dozen in each tournament.

But those had been less civilized times. Also, they’d been before the professional army. In previous years, even those who didn’t win might still end up with a chance to earn their freedom in military service. But not this year. Nobody’s hiring soldiers.

“Yes, an earlier age”. Santiago turned away from her, making a clicking sound with his beak. “Back when we hunted rabbits and fought over mates. How delightful.”

There was a brief, awkward silence. “I take it you have found everything to your satisfaction, enforcer?”

She nodded. “The Crown is pleased at your obedience, Lord Santiago. Only one from your house attempting to force a slave into the event, and he has been punished accordingly.” She gestured over her shoulder, where the bulky earth pony now stood beside her slaves, awkward and uneasy. “Good luck to you and yours in the tournament.”

“You hear that?” Santiago called over his shoulder. “At least someone wishes you luck. Best enjoy it, it’s the only sympathy you’ll get.” He left without another world.

Gina wasn’t attacked on her way out of the camp of house Vengeance, despite the rumors. The most her little caravan got were angry glares, and most of those were from Gaillard. “Good luck, clan brother,” she whispered to herself, once they were back on the trail into New Scythia. “I hope you will win your freedom tomorrow.”

She could only hope there wouldn’t be many ponies around to watch.