Gathering of the Titans: The Tol Chronicles Book 2 (36 page)

The assembled crowd was somber, except for the Xarkas. “Bah. You left out how many of the enemy
we
killed!”

“It does not matter!” Tartag shouted, banging his huge fist on the Council table. “What matters is that
titans died
! Mothers and fathers and sons and daughters
died
! There is no conceivable justification for dead titans except in the defense of home and family, and neither is threatened here! We can choose peace and life, or war and death. If you choose death, you are not sane. Do you hear me?

Choosing death when life and self-rule are freely offered is
insane
. As Odinial I will offer you this choice: live with us in harmony and peace, or leave Hellehoell and make war on whomever you choose—but you will do so on your own. This government will not support you in any way. Is that clear?”

“So says the coward you have chosen to lead you,” spit back Lug, “A coward leading cowards. Come, little woolbeasts, follow me to safety in the goblin pens, where we can wait peacefully to be sheared and stewed.”

People were shaking their heads in disagreement as the crowd was turning actively against him. Lug surveyed the room in disgust.

“So be it! We are too few to stand in the way of your placation of the goblins. But hear this: you will
all
be sorry at some point that you did not listen to the last remaining voice of titan glory and majesty. From here on out it will be titan servitude and conciliation. The very thought makes me ill.” Lug made as though to spit on the Council chamber floor.

“I won’t argue that you are not ill, Lug,” replied Tartag before turning back to the assembled throng.“Titans! The time for speeches is past. Now is the time for decisions. All in favor of Hellehoell becoming a sovereign nation, vote aye. Those opposed, vote nay. Hu, Mu, and I will gather the ballots.”

After the ballots were counted, ninety-six percent voted for sovereignty. Once the vote was validated and witnessed, the results were attached to the Petition for Sovereign Status and sent by diplomatic courier to Goblinopolis. Now, they just had to wait for His Majesty’s government to act.

Meanwhile, however, Tartag had the pleasant duty of planning the celebration of the re-founding of Hellehoell. He’d had the historians working day and night to locate and bring back to operating status all of the ancient archives, so that they might get some solid feeling for how such things were celebrated in the original Hellehoell. A celebration of the new with some flavor of the old, that’s what he was shooting for. The Xarkas were sulking, which Tartag regarded as something of a blessing: at least they were off his back for the time being.

Aspet opened the diplomatic pouch and smiled as he read the Petition. He called Boogla in. “Looks like the titans have decided to rule themselves. I heartily approve.”

“There are elements within the government and your people at large who believe the tax revenue from Hellehoell would be a tremendous asset in the rebuilding of Fenurian and Dresmak, you know. Not everyone feels as you do about titan independence.”

Aspet lost the smile. “I’m aware of that, but ninety-six percent of the titans—that’s over ninety-six
thousand
of them, by our intelligence service’s estimate—voted for sovereign status. Imagine nearly a hundred thousand disgruntled titans, entrenched in a massive underground complex. Do you really think we could collect taxes from them if they decided not to pay? You know how much it costs to mobilize even a single regiment. It would take our entire military, with reserves, to make any significant inroads into a fortification of that nature. The tax revenue we could extract from a conquered Hellehoell would be insignificant compared with the expense of that campaign, both in terms of expenditure and loss of life on both sides. Dead people do not pay taxes, nor do they collect them. On the other hand, Hellehoell as an ally and trading partner will be extremely lucrative. They have a lot of resources we could really make use of.”

“I know and agree, love, but it was my duty to make that point.”

“Understood and appreciated. I’ve already made a detailed report to CoME and I have their full support on this. Even old Kryptoq agrees.”

“So, when will the ceremony take place?”

“I’ll want the full cabinet to review and ratify the Petition; then we’ll have to draw up the formal Declaration of Relinquishment, including a detailed survey of precisely what I’ll be ceding to the titans. Maybe two weeks, give or take a day or two.”

“How about Suns’ Peak? That would be a memorable day for their independence festival.”

“Great idea. I think we can be ready by then.”

The survey team had a formidable task facing them. In order to determine the extent of the surface lands that would become part of Hellehoell, they first had to determine the precise boundaries of the subsurface areas. Aspet did not want a situation where the visible land belonged to Tragacanth but the caves underneath were titan. “If you can drill straight down and hit Hellehoell,” he’d told the lead engineer of the survey party, “That land needs to go to the titans.”

There were, mercifully, only a handful of Tragacanthan land owners who had to be placated; most of the land was rocky and uninhabited. It took a full week to complete the survey; the results showed just how big Hellehoell was underground. The surface area, including Daludobris, was just under ten thousand hectares. Given that there were effectively several layers to the cavern complex, that gave Hellehoell itself a habitable area of at least twice that.

Aspet, through his Minister for Territorial Affairs, offered the affected land owners the full market value for their land, as well as equivalent land holdings anywhere else in Tragacanth where Royal Lands were available. Most of them were quite happy with the generous deal, although a couple resisted because they had been on their current land for generations and did not want to leave. Aspet offered to negotiate on their behalf with the Hellehoell government to see if they might be able to remain as resident alien tenants of the new titan city-state.

As it turned out, the Elder Council was not particularly interested in the fate of the surface lands and had no issues with Tragacanthans living there, with the stipulation that no well drilling could take place and all subsurface rights conveyed to the titans. All water would need to be brought in via pipes and aqueducts. Since that was the way they were getting their water now—there being a titan city below them, not a reachable water table—this restriction presented no conflicts.

The only official way in and out of Hellehoell was Daludobris. The titans had their own private entrances, of course, but these were closely-held secrets and emerged on the surface in areas of tightly restricted access. Any non-titan caught using one without a titan escort would be prosecuted for trespassing. This was the way the titans controlled their borders and it worked quite effectively.

The Daludobris of old was mostly rebuilt by this point, and it was truly one of the wonders of Esmia. A broad avenue paved with colorful shellstone and flanked by intricate sculptures was carved into the bedrock; it sloped gradually down to a magnificent stone and iron archway framing massive doors that were so cunningly wrought and perfectly balanced that when unlocked they could easily be opened by a gnome child. When locked and bolted, however, the ten meter- thick iron, steel, and wood barriers could withstand even extended artillery barrages. If the titans wanted to keep you out, you weren’t getting in: at least not through the front door.

Aspet announced that the Ceremony of Transfer of Sovereignty would take place at mid-day on Suns’ Peak, the point in the orbital cycle where both suns rose highest in the sky at the same time. The site chosen was Daludobris itself, with the ceremonial dais being constructed right in front of the massive doors. Grandstands lined the boulevard for several hundred meters, with room for at least fifty thousand live viewers and countless others via cameras pointed down at the dais from overhead.

Aspet arrived via Royal limousine, surrounded by RPC agents who were joined by a contingent of titan honor guards, resplendent in violet, deep green, and silver. Tartag was there as Odinial, along with the rest of the Elder Council. Tragacanth was represented by King Aspet, Plenipotentiaries Boogla, Goameel Jigha, and Eqbo Dehsz, the Minister for International Relations; rounding out the Tragacanthan contingent was the High Arbiter of Edicts, the Honorable Colmnat Fespri, and Norda Magineer Imberol.

The ceremony took exactly one hour, at the conclusion of which Aspet handed to Tartag a beautifully-framed Declaration of Relinquishment of all claim to the lands described in the accompanying survey, granting them fully and in perpetuity to the government of Hellehoell. Following this, Dehsz presented the titans with Tragacanth’s official Diplomatic Writ of Recognition, establishing the Kingdom of Tragacanth as the first nation formally to recognize the new City-State of Hellehoell, and a formal
Plea for Establishment of Diplomatic Relations and Exchange of Ambassadors
.

Aspet’s final speech was a notice to all citizens of Tragacanth that from this moment forward, the edicts and tariffs legislated by the government of Hellehoell would be the only ones to which any were subject while on titan soil, regardless of citizenship: Tragacanthan edicts no longer applied here. With that he shook hands warmly with Tartag, wishing him and his new City-State good fortune in the coming years, and departed, followed by the rest of the Tragacanthans present.

Tartag remained on the dais until everyone else had left; it was a tradition amongst titans that a host saw the last guest depart before he himself could retire. He stared at the elegantly-lettered and illuminated documents of sovereignty and felt himself on the verge of weeping. This was a day he had never dared dream would come, at least during his lifetime. Today he stood, not only in Hellehoell, but in a Hellehoell that had regained the right to determine its own destiny. As the first Odinial for this renewed nation, he felt an enormous responsibility to chart the right course, one that set Hellehoell on a tricky path to prosperity and security while embedded, landlocked, within another country.

Scant days passed before diplomatic notices of recognition came flooding in from nations all over the globe. The restored empty quarters along what the titans had designated as ‘embassy row’ began to be assigned, one by one, to ambassadors and their staffs from the nations that had formally recognized Hellehoell and sued for diplomatic relations.

The Xarkas were lying low for now, but Tartag caught the occasional rumor of their activities and knew that sooner or later they would have to be dealt with in a decisive manner. While spying of any sort was frowned upon in titan society, he had asked the constabulary to keep track of citizen reports concerning any sort of rabble-rousing the Xarkas might be engaged in. He at least had to be prepared to respond appropriately.

Meanwhile, the business of running a fledgling government was promising to occupy all of his waking hours. Busy though he was, he made time on occasion simply to wander the streets and avenues, marveling at that which was Hellehoell. He could do so without bodyguards; no titan would dream of assaulting their leader or indeed anyone at all without strong justification. Here his people felt well and truly at home for the first time, as a race, in millennia. Here the art, culture, engineering, and mores of the titan race could be integrated into a cohesive society once again. Titans would emerge from the fear and distrust born of their long isolation and take their place as integral players on the world stage once again.

Now they just had to figure out how to
feed
all these titans.

in which Tol takes to the sky to combat a pretentious criminal

“So,” Tol said to Selpla over the intimate dinner they were sharing at a fancy restaurant in upscale Tropsalla, “I did some checking into this Lizgug character.”

“Lizgug?” Selpla replied, munching on some aged Rockrunner cheese.

“Yeah, you know, that fugitive I apprehended on the cruise ship.”

“Oh. The one they kept locked in the brig for nearly the entire voyage? I would’ve asked for a refund, if I were him.”

“Hah. I’d be very surprised if he didn’t figure some way to wrangle the passage for free to begin with: he used fake ID papers, at least. Anyway, turns out Lizgug has a connection, albeit distant, to our old pal Pyfox.”

“One of his henches, or something?”

“Not a hench, but an associate. Before Pyfox got jacked into that crazy controlling magic scheme with Namni, he ran a pretty successful protection racket with franchises, if you want to call them that, in nearly every small town and village in Tragacanth. He also had a few overseas, particularly in Hividz, Grosyem, and Nerr. Lizgug was apparently the regional manager for those offshore operations, with headquarters in Evcolla. When local EE finally started to crack down, he beat it and ended up in Tragacanth, running some kinda operation between Lumbos and Erolossma. He was important enough to trigger that botched rescue mission, anyway.”

“Funny how things connect to one another,” Selpla nodded.

“That’s not all there is to it. Lizgug tried to sabotage that guy with the flying bladder things—Dagyo, the one who is supposed to be demonstrating an EE version here next week. I figured he was just a lowlife looking to spoil somebody’s day, but I think the stink goes a lot deeper than that. He was related to this hob in Hividz who invented a contraption that glides from one place to another, using updrafts to increase the distance. Apparently he sunk some serious money into the outfit formed to commercialize the idea.”

“I thought that guy got himself killed.”

“He did, but the company kept on going, trying to learn from his mistakes to make better gliders.”

“What sort of commercial application did they see for gliding?”

“Not sure, but I think it had to do with rapid deliveries and dropping leaflets or something from overhead. Whatever it was, Lizgug seems to have decided that Dagyo’s floating bladder machine was a threat to the gliding business and wanted to make certain it was not a success. I started reading international EE reports on ‘accidents’ Dagyo had experienced, and most of them were pretty obviously the result of sabotage. Somebody definitely has it in for him.” He fished around in his pocket for a photo. “Here’s the jlok’s mug shot.”