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masterghandalfThis is a repost from Das_Sporking2; previous installments of this sporking may be found here.
Warning: This post contains discussion of slavery, genocide and imperialism.
MG: Well, everyone, it’s time to continue our journey through the strange and unbearable world of Vox Day’s Summa Elvetica! Last time, we met Marcus, a young scholar who got assigned for reasons which escape me to mediate between two established sages and answer the question of whether elves have souls (which, despite the Amorran Church and the elves having been neighbors for literally centuries, somehow nobody has done before… for some reason). Today, we catch back up with Marcus and learn a bit more about his family as he prepares to begin his journey. Joining us today will be Errezha and Calassara!
Errezha: *muttering* Kill me now.
IA Q. VII A. I ARG. I
Errezha: *stunned* What is that?
MG: *wicked grin* That is our chapter title. *notices Errezha’s horrified expression* Interesting, isn’t it? And I can promise you that all the remaining chapter titles in this… piece of writing (Scales in the comments managed to find the word count, and it’s apparently more in the range of a short novel than a novella, actually; whatever you choose to call it, it sucks) are titled like this! Fun, isn’t it? But this is a demonstration of why I decided to give these things actual numbers in my TOC, for all our peace of mind.
Errezha: And I thought “Prooemium” was bad…
Videtur quod aelvi habeant animae naturaliter sibi unita. Dicitur enim Gen. II, Deus hominem de limo terrae, et inspiravit in faciem eius spiraculum vitae, et factus est homo in animam viventem. Sed ille qui spirat, aliquid a se emittit. Ergo anima qua homo vivit, est aliquid de substantia Dei. Subsistentes cum aelvi, et diversi homini, non acciperunt substantiam Dei ab Deo. Ergo aelvi habent animae naturaliter sibi unita.
Calassara: Oh, is that more of that Latin? How fascinating! I do love ancient languages… though the subject matter of much of the surviving corpus of Thassilonian leaves something to be desired… anyway, we proceed to open the actual chapter in the late evening after the last vestiges of the setting sun had long sense disappeared as a squad of Redeemed escort Marcus to his uncle’s domus.
By day, Amorr belonged to God. But its night was claimed by the worst of His creations. Peril lurked in far too many shadows of the narrow, high-walled, circuitous streets called vici. Even a mounted nobleman born to horse and sword could find himself beaten, stripped, and, if fortunate, merely robbed by the cruel gangs of half-human breeds and bandits who ravaged the city by night.
Errezha: *flatly* Oh, yes, it’s those dastardly “half-human breeds” you’ve got to watch out for. As a “half-human breed” myself, here’s what I think of that. *she spits in disgust* I’m not normally so crass, but, well, that struck a nerve. Though I will say I remain all the more certain that this “Republic” is dominated entirely by humans, and those “part-human breeds,” if they really do make up such a large percentage of criminals, have likely turned to crime due to having no other way to support themselves… something I’ve seen far too often in my own homeland, and was spared only because of having an aristocratic mother – though that came with other difficulties. Of course, it seems like noblemen are the only people whose fate this passage cares about – though rest assured, if the nobility are facing genuine risks like this, the commoners are going to be facing worse.
MG: And, as we see here and will continue to be a recurring theme in this sporking, and this post in particular, is that Beale on the one hand seems to want to present Amorr in general as a shining paragon of human civilization, something that’s maybe not perfect, but at least admirable and aspirational. And on the other hand… Amorr as he actually writes it kind of sucks. As we see here, where apparently what is both the Holy City of the Church and the capital of the most powerful nation on the continent suddenly turns into Mos Eisley spaceport (you will never find a more wretched hive of scum and villainy…) the moment the sun goes down. It honestly reminds me of Newcomb a bit, and all the (probably unintentional) subtext that Eutracia probably wasn’t nearly so wonderful as he was making it out to be… but here the issue is even more stark and blatant somehow. Now, I’m certainly not someone who thinks that depicting something is endorsing it – I can think of a bunch of settings I enjoy reading about that I wouldn’t want to live in if you paid me – but again, with Beale clearly trying to locate the sympathetic POV so firmly above Amorr, it does make all the ways Amorr doesn’t live up to the hype that the more obvious.
Still, even the most lawless of brigands feared crossing the path of the Redeemed, the most fanatical of the Church’s militias. The Redeemed were former gladiators, now rehabilitated— hardened men of violence who had chosen to leave the bloodstained sands of the Coliseum behind them. Slaves they had been and slaves they were still, but they served a different Master now.
MG: Hoo boy, I’m feeling like there’s a lot to unpack here. First off, in terms of our “Amorr is just all of Rome’s greatest hits happening at once,” we have gladiators, because of course we have gladiators. Now, to my knowledge in real life, by the time Rome becomes Christianized the popularity of gladiator games was already waning. Early Church leaders opposed the games on various grounds, ranging from the inherent brutality of the sport to its origins being associated with pagan religious rituals, and Christians were discouraged from attending. Not long after Nicene Christianity was officially adopted as the state religion of the empire, Emperor Honorius would ban the games in the Western Empire, though it took a couple of decades before they actually died out for good (in the Eastern Empire, iirc, chariot races and the theater had always been more popular as public entertainments). So gladiators and a theocratic, Christian Rome coexisting is somewhat anachronistic on the face of it. Now, of course, Amorr isn’t actually Rome, and Beale can do what he wants with his fictional setting – but considering how extremely obvious it is he just ported over the Roman Republic and the medieval Church and only just barely filed the serial numbers off both of them, and that does feel worth noting. Especially since this is a fictional setting so Beale chose which elements of Rome to include, and he deliberately chose to include his fictional Church seeming to happily coexist with a practice that its real-life counterpart opposed and suppressed, and I feel like that’s notable.
On a related note, my understanding is that historically while slave-soldiers were absolutely a thing that existed (the Ottoman Janissaries being perhaps the most famous, but far from the only, example – AFAIK even the Spartans sometimes forced their Helots to fight for them) to my knowledge the Romans only drafted slaves into the army in times of extreme need. Though maybe the “slavery” here is metaphorical, that the Redeemed are a religious order and are therefore “slaves” of God; I can’t recall at the moment if that is specified or not. Slavery itself, to my knowledge, was never actually abolished in Rome but by the time Rome was Christianized was less prevalent than it had been in the Republic and earlier Empire, mostly due to shifting cultural and economic pressures leading to other forms of bonded and unfree labor (ie, what would eventually evolve into medieval serfdom) becoming more prominent. And while retired gladiators might find work as bodyguards, trainers or the like, they weren’t really soldiers as such (and also weren’t usually recruited for the army unless it desperately needed the men) – gladiators were trained to fight in one-on-one bouts or matches where small teams were pitted against one another, not to work as part of larger units (which was part of why gladiator revolts often failed – gladiators didn’t have the right training to fight as part of an army, or for that matter against an army). Ironically, this is something a character will actually point out later in this very chapter! And historically, looking forward to the Papal States and after, when the Pope or the Church hierarchy in general needed troops, they tended to use either elite companies of foreign mercenaries (the Swiss Guard being the only such unit still in service) or else draw them from militant religious orders (which I guess the Redeemed might count as?). Anyway, again, it’s Beale’s setting and he can do what he likes with it, but all of this did feel worth bringing up to compare it to its historical antecedents.
Calassara: Interesting! In any case, the Redeemed’s only real role in this scene is to escort Marcus home, where he’s met by a swarm of slaves – that word in this context makes me… uncomfortable – who tend to his horse. Marcus thanks the Redeemed captain, who responds with a stoic Glory to God and marches off with his men, giving no indication he cares remotely about Marcus or any of this. Ah, finally a character I can relate to! Marcus watches him go and idly wonders what it’s like to be so secure in his duty. And yet, what was a man’s mind for, if not to use? *waspishly* Perhaps when Marcus has put his mind to good use, he can answer that! Finally, Marcus dismounts and hands his horse’s reins to a young slave, who the narrative specifically notes is human, because it was beneath the dignity of House Valerius to own half-breeds or inhumans…
Errezha: *disgusted noise* Unfit even to be slaves to important people! As I suspected!
MG: …and it occurred to me, if Beale was really committed to the Roman theme, shouldn’t Valerius be either a Familia or a Gens (depending on whether it’s a single household or a larger extended clan) rather than a House? Again, his world, his rules, just something I thought of now.
Errezha: I don’t care what he calls it, I’m sure I will hate it as much as I’m rapidly growing to hate all of Amorr – all the worst aspects of home, but wrapped in a sheen of false piety! Gah! Well, Marcus asks the slave boy his name, and it happens to be Deccus; Marcus remembers that he’s a Bethnian, like a number of other slaves his uncle purchased last spring, and that apparently Bethnians are cheap right now because a rebellion in that province was recently crushed and many captives were taken. *disgusted noise* All of which Marcus thinks about entirely dispassionately, the situation never stirring his emotions or interest at all. He just tells Deccus to take good care of Barat, the horse, and then muses how the family Valerius treats its slaves no worse than most and better than some but the work in the stables is hard, and he hopes his using of Deccus’s name will be enough kindness to count for something, as the scene ends.
MG: And, oof, okay, once again, I’m not someone who considers depicting a thing to be the same as endorsing it, and Marcus is not a modern person and doesn’t share modern values, and he clearly comes from a society where slavery is a long-standing, ultra-normalized institution (as opposed to the protagonist of a certain other currently running spork on Das Sporking…). Even so, there’s something very jarring about reading a scene where our protagonist, someone we’re clearly supposed to like and sympathize with, treats his family’s slaves as basically glorified furniture, and considers even remembering one kid’s name to be a level of kindness that goes above and beyond what is to be expected (even if he also does seem on some level aware of how insufficient it is, he doesn’t go out of his way to do anything more). And considering the sorts of reactionary views Beale is known for IRL, I’m really not inclined to cut him much slack here.
I’m actually reminded, of all things, of a bit from the Prism Pentad series from the Dark Sun D&D campaign setting. Dark Sun, for those unfamiliar, is probably the most unconventional of the major D&D settings (unless we get into some of the weird cosmic stuff in Planescape or Spelljammer); intended as a throwback to pulp sword and sorcery (and even Burroughs-style sword and planet, with its strange creatures and alien environment) it’s set in Athas, a world that has been devasted by long ago magical warfare and reduced to a barely-habitable desert, with civilization centered around a handful of city-states, each of which is ruled by a tyrannical, immortal sorcerer king. It’s a pretty bleak and dystopian place, in other words. The Prism Pentad (and it’s been a while since I’ve read these books, so forgive any mistakes here) focuses first on the rebellion against Kalak, sorcerer-king of Tyr, and subsequently the aftermath of overthrowing him and the consequences thereof. One of the main characters, Agis, is a Tyrian nobleman who ends up falling in with the rebellion. Slavery is endemic on Athas, and as the scion of a wealthy and powerful family, Agis owns many slaves and considers himself a “kind” master. Partway through the book, the heroes are forced to flee through a network of tunnels under Tyr and run across a shrine that predates Kalak’s reign. Agis is the only member of the party who physically can’t enter – it’s all but outright stated that his status as a slave owner, by itself, is enough of a stain on his soul as to bar him entry (in game terms, presumably that means it’s enough to keep him from having a “good” alignment at this point, not that the characters in-universe think of it that way). Later in the book, he learns that an elderly slave who’s been with his family for generations has been spying on him for the villains – Agis is stunned, but the old slave just points out that while he doesn’t really have anything against Agis personally and he’s served far worse people, there’s not a slave in the world who wouldn’t work against his master or try for freedom, given the chance. Agis himself, to his credit, engages in some legitimate soul-searching after these incidents and realizes that he was kidding himself and that “nice” master or no, he was still an active participant in upholding Tyr’s systems of abuse and oppression, and once Kalak is overthrown, is one of those who makes sure the new government outlaws slavery. Just… a comparison I find noteworthy, for some reason (also, I always felt a number of the cities of Athas have at least some Roman coding, though Tyr is not the most explicit about it).
Calassara: We then cut to how rumor spread faster than sickness in the slaves’ quarters – what a charming metaphor! *disgusted noise – as Marcus is met by his manservant Marcipor, a slave of Savondese descent, the son of an enemy officer Marcus’s uncle defeated and almost exactly Marcus’s age. It’s clear Marcipor knows something is going on, probably because Sextus brought news home ahead of Marcus, and Marcus and Marcipor banter a bit. Also, Marcus calls Marcipor pretty boy and quips that his uncle should sell him to the theater, which sounds… far more flirtatious than I think Beale ever intended!
Marcipor grinned and abandoned the servile pretense. He puffed his chest out and struck a dramatic stance. He was a striking young man, with a strong jaw and a close-cropped, golden beard. More than one slave girl living in the vicinity of the Valerian house had given birth to a fair-haired, blue-eyed baby after Marcipor had passed his sixteenth year.
Calassara: …well. Beale does seem to want to make absolutely certain we know Marcipor is interested in women, doesn’t he? Marcipor thinks he should have been sold to the theater and then gets back to questioning Marcus. Is it true you saw the Sanctiff himself? The whole domus has been utterly agog with rumor ever since you left with Father Aurelius! Apparently, the rumor is even that Marcus is to be made a cardinal, despite his youth. Marcus at least has the decency to be appalled at this.
He knew a bishopric would soon be his for the taking. No noble, not even one with plebian blood, would expect anything less. And it was even possible that an archbishopric might be in the cards. But not even a scion of House Severus could hope to be crowned prince of the church before reaching thirty.
Errezha: Ah, yes, how nice to see that nepotism and cynically trading on one’s family name for positions of authority are alive and well in this holy institution.
MG: Though I’ll observe that Beale does note that you can be of plebian ancestry and still be a noble – so at least he’s not making the common mistake of assuming being plebian was the same thing as being poor or “common.” It’s not much, but hey, could be worse!
Errezha: …quite. Marcus reminds Marcipor that they both think Sextus is an idiot and asks what the bet is. Apparently Marcipor is actually richer than Marcus(!) and Marcus is in his debt more often than not, though he’d rather owe money to Macripor than to his uncle. *arches her eyebrow* I beg your pardon?
MG: As far as I know, while Roman slaves could own a certain amount of personal property, it still ultimately fell under their master’s jurisdiction (though this would technically also be true of anyone who wasn’t the head of their own household and therefore fell under the jurisdiction of their paterfamilias). So, it would seem to me that, effectively, Marcus does owe his uncle, just in a somewhat roundabout way. And honestly, something about this whole dynamic icks me, mostly because it feels like after we’ve just established the ubiquity of slavery in Amorran society and how much it sucks for the vast majority of slaves, here comes Macripor who clearly has a good life and is friends with… not his master, exactly (Marcus’s uncle is Macripor’s owner, not Marcus himself) but the person he’s been assigned to, let’s say. It’s as if Beale is trying to tell us that oh, it’s not really that bad because some slaves can have comfortable lives. Even though Macripor is clearly a very favored and high-status slave and his life is not at all representative of what the vast majority of Amorran slaves (who, going by Rome, probably mostly do difficult or dangerous agricultural or menial labor under very poor conditions) go through (and even someone like Macripor would have little to nothing in the way of legal defenses if someone in the Valerius household did decide to abuse him, or he got sold off to the mines or something to pay off a debt or the like – he is still a slave, and therefore in an inherently precarious and dangerous position). So… yeah, intentionally or otherwise it just feels like Beale is trying to put a glossy sheen on an inherently abusive and inhumane institution, and either way it skeeves me out, badly.
Errezha: Well. Marcipor says he bet Marcus got a bishopric, since even he thinks Marcus is too young for the lazulate; Marcus thinks he’s lying and wonders if the bet was about who he’d tell first, which won’t be Marcipor because he’s not actually free to tell anything yet and maybe not ever. Since he mentions “returning,” Marcipor gathers he’s going somewhere and insists he can’t go without him, certainly not if he takes that irresponsible lunatic of a cousin instead; Marcus assures him he’s going, if he gets his uncle Magnus’s permission, so Marcipor had better start packing. For now, though, Marcus needs to eat, since he’s hungry enough to eat a boar – funny, merely reading this story has quite killed my appetite – and the scene ends.
Calassara: Well, Marcus finds his uncle Magnus in the triclinium, which I gather is a formal dining room, reclining with his three favorites, oh my.
The room was large, but stark, with no decorations on the white stuccoed walls to detract from the only furniture, a low, tiled table that filled the center of the room and couches on three sides. The colorful tiles told the story of Valerius, the founder of the house, and showed the wounded hero lying in a grove being tended by the wolf who licked his wounds and succored him until his triumphant and vengeful return to Amorr. Magnus often entertained a score or more of Amorr’s great citizens here, senators and equestrians, but fortunately tonight he was as near to alone as Marcus was ever likely to find him.
Calassara: Can we read about the man on the mosaic instead? I’m not sure I’d like him any better, but he at least sounds interesting. Apparently the “favorites” are Lucipor, a slave old enough to be Magnus’s father, and two scholars, Dompor and Lazapor, by the way. Lazapor, as it happens, is advising Magnus, or rather ranting at him.
“You underestimate them, Magnus,” Lazapor said. “The villagemen seek no justice. They only slaver after power in the city! What you consider to be an open hand extended in a spirit of generosity, they see only as weakness. Make the mistake of allowing one snake into the Senate, and I assure you a thousand will soon squirm in behind him!”
Calassara: Charming. Marcus comes in, after having had his feet washed, and is apparently somewhat surprised by Lazapor’s tone. He also notes that his uncle, full name Lucius Valerius Magnus, is a great man in many respects – senator, former consul, and so on – including the impressive size of his paunch. Magnus turns away from Lazapor and invites Marcus to join them. He wants to know if Marcus really was summoned by the Sanctiff or if Sextus had reverted to his childhood custom of telling fanciful tales. And then Magnus’s scholars also jump in to praise him.
“Yes,” Dompor said, “we have long expected miracles from you, Marcus, but you seem to have outdone yourself this time. Our darling Sextus is fond of saying that your piety is surpassed only by the Mater Dei. Are we correct in assuming that His Holiness has asked you to serve as his father confessor?”
Errezha: Urgh; apparently this is meant to be sarcastic, but even so… Marcus says he needs to speak to his uncle alone, so Magnus dismisses the slave and the scholars, which is apparently not only unusual, it was almost unprecedented. When they’re alone, Magnus asks if any bishops died recently, since he didn’t know any sees were open (they really are assuming Marcus has made bishop, aren’t they? And Beale has utterly failed at convincing me that Marcus is qualified to be a bishop…) but Marcus admits he’s not actually even committed to the priesthood as a vocation yet! *shakes her head* My, my. That just makes all the fuss about him all the more inexplicable, doesn’t it? But Magnus is stunned when Marcus tells him the Sanctiff is sending him to Elebrion and that Ahenobarbus could be stirring up trouble with this and always sticks his red beard into places it’s not wanted.
Marcus blinked. He was unaccustomed to hearing His Holiness, the Sanctified Charity IV, forty-fourth Sanctiff of Amorr, described in such familiar and unflattering terms. Furthermore, the Sanctiff was not only clean-shaven, but his hair had been white as long as Marcus could remember. Red beard?
Errezha: Things that Marcus the great scholar seems to have difficulty understanding – the passage of time, the greying of an old man’s hair, or that that same man might have decided at some point to shave his beard.
MG: And I’m not the first one to point this out, but the Sanctiff’s real name puts me in mind of one Lucius Domitius Ahenobarbus… better known to history as Emperor Nero of Rome. There’s a joke to be made about fiddling in here somewhere, I just know it…
Calassara: …I play the lute, is that close enough? Marcus thinks that this is just a scholarly investigation of the elves, but Magnus isn’t so sure. He’s fought both with and against the elves (which just makes me wonder once again why, if the Amorrans have such a long history with the elves, they haven’t determined whether or not they have souls to their satisfaction yet?) and that one thing elves aren’t is fools; they’re pretty enough, but there’s steel underneath, lad – never forget it (oh, I’m all a flutter! I bet you say that to all the elves!)! Magnus is of the opinion that no one lives as long as elves do without learning something (I… actually think I have some counterexamples of that from my own life, if he’s curious?) and they’ll know why he’s there and the implications of what will happen if the Church rules the elves are nothing more than talking beasts… Considering what I always heard of King Caerwyn’s court, I imagine he would’ve considered an infestation of monks preaching celibacy and the Church to be an act of war. Tarquin’s tarnation! I suppose we can hope this new High King is cut from a different cloth. Hmmm; I’m not sure I’d consider having celibacy being preached at me to be an act of war, though I also wouldn’t take it very seriously… then again, if the preacher was annoying enough…
MG: Also, “Tarquin’s Tarnation?” One, is that supposed to be a curse? Two, does that mean that Tarquinius Superbus, last king of Rome whose ouster led to the creation of the Republic, existed in Selenoth somehow? Or possibly General Tarquin from Order of the Stick; I think that Tarquin and Beale might deserve each other, actually.
Errezha: I don’t know who those are, and I don’t care. Marcus is left thinking on whether Magnus will give his blessing to go on the mission or not, though he thinks he will. Apparently if Marcus does formally take a position with the Church he’ll be banned from also sitting in the Senate, though his older brother has already embarked on a political career and been elected as one of fifteen tribunes, whatever those may be, while his sisters have done their duty and provided his father with four members of the following generation, including three potential heirs. Lovely how Marcus makes it plain exactly how the family Valerius values its daughters, is it not? As if I didn’t hate this country enough already…
Meanwhile, Sextus has two brothers serving in the army under Marcus’s father and a third brother who has already been a tribune, so the Valerii are clearly not hurting for ambitious young men. Finally, Magnus tells Marcus he’s a good lad, and even if the Sanctiff is taking risks, they still stand to gain from it. But he warns Marcus that there’s more going on than he realizes and to keep his eyes open. He bids Marcus to say goodbye to his mother before he goes, since she’s already lonely with Marcus’s father in the field; Magnus himself will write to his brother Corvus, Marcus’s father, and explain what’s going on, though he’s not sure Corvus will understand. And Sextus is not to tag along with Marcus, on penalty of being lashed and having his allowance halved (oh, look, Magnus makes the exact sort of threats my mother used to love! Charming). Marcus grins, promises to tell Sextus and thanks his uncle for his advice, and the scene ends.
Calassara: And so, we cut to Magnus, musing on how the news of Marcus’s mission surprised him and wondering if he should have forbidden his nephew to go. Apparently, he’s sent thousands of men to their deaths without hesitation before – Calistria’s Sting! – but the thought of losing his brother’s youngest son bothers him (ah, so he only cares about the deaths of people when they’re related to him, then?). He thinks that Marcus is trained but no fighter, while Macripor is more of a lover than a warrior (not mutually exclusive, I’ll have you know…) He considers hiring a bodyguard for Marcus, but soldiers fight as a unit and so one alone isn’t much good. He considers a gladiator, but worries about finding one who can’t be bought off. Apparently, if the Church rules elves don’t have souls it could mean a holy war (Calistria’s Sting, indeed! The only reason I can imagine for that war with that justification is genocide! And we’re supposed to be rooting for these people?) and every merchant and war profiteer in the Republic will want a part of that – and some might be willing to help it along. He wonders who can’t be bought off by man or elf and then summons a servant and orders him to fetch Lucipor and his son who may be useful for once; apparently with that description he doesn’t need to name names for the servant to know he means Sextus, and as he runs off the scene ends.
Errezha: We cut to Marcus waking up in the cubiculum alone and wondering where Marcipor is. Slaves help him wash and dress and he goes to find Sextus in the triclinium, eating breakfast and feeding a dog from the table. The chat about how Marcus told his mother where he was going last night, and apparently, she was entirely unbothered by it; Sextus think Marcus is lucky to have an uninterested mother and a father who is always on campaign, compared to Sextus’s own father always butting into his affairs and has forbidden him to go with Marcus. Marcus doesn’t think Sextus would be interested anyway. There won’t be any gambling or girl-chasing, and I don’t recall ecclesiastical debate being one of your favorite pastimes. Sextus thinks he could make his own amusement.
“Chance is everywhere, my dear boy. And wherever there are guards, there you will find men who roll the bones. As for girls, I daresay that Elebrion is full of them!” Sextus’s eyes gleamed wickedly. “Elven girls. I’ve only seen one or two, but they were lovely. Gorgeous! Tall, slender, skin like milk. If you look past the pointy ears and the haughty attitude, why, they might be Vargeyar maidens, and there’s no harm in that!”
Calassara: Well, I can’t speak for Selenoth’s elves, but if Sextus ever visits my homeland… well, he might find some things that would rather surprise him! Then again, Marcus thinks Sextus would try to seduce the first elven sorceress he met and get turned into a toad. Sextus ignores him, happily fantasizing about marrying two or three elven women and founding his own nation (shall I tell him that elves, at least where I come from, are less fertile than humans, generally speaking?) and then idly wonders about half-elves. Why did we kill them all, do you happen to remember? *appalled* So, not only is the Amorran Republic very likely to commit genocide on elves, they’ve already done so on half-elves!? Why? And Sextus and Marcus discuss this so… so casually, like it’s entirely unremarkable! Why are we supposed to root for what I’m increasingly certain would be the evil empire in any other setting!? (No offense intended, Errezha, I’m sure Cheliax has its good points… somewhere.) And Marcus, as it happens, only jokes that they killed the half-elves to spare them from Sextus’s unseemly lusts (because genocide is so funny, apparently!) and then goes back to asking Sextus if he wants to go to the baths today like nothing happened. I. Hate. Both of them.
Errezha: You’re only realizing this now? Sextus is happy to go with Marcus, since he has orders to go with him to the Arena anyway – there aren’t any fights today, but his father has ordered Sextus to help Marcus buy a bodyguard capable of protecting you from those hot-blooded elven slatterns.
Calassara: *idly draws her rapier* Challenge accepted.
Errezha: *sighs* After Sextus jokingly reminds Marcus what a gladiator is, Marcus wonders why he needs a bodyguard, since the Sanctiff should be providing some. Sextus thinks Magnus wants someone along who’s there to watch out for Marcus specifically. Marcus shrugs and goes along with it, though he doubts he’ll need one – how naïve – and that if the elven high king Mael decides to kill them all, one more bodyguard won’t amount to much, and the scene ends.
Calassara: We cut to Marcus and Sextus arriving at the Colosseo (I thought it was the “Coliseum” earlier?) where Marcus is initially happy to get out of the sun, only to be repelled by the smell (which Beale sees fit to describe for us, at length). He looks around at various trophies and weapons and then spots a man working on a scroll who is apparently the arena’s chief accountant. He’s annoyed when Sextus interrupts him and says he’s here to buy a slave, and that he’s only interested in dwarves who fight for the Red team.
The time it took to summon them seemed like an eternity in that dark and odorous place, but finally the master begrudgingly presented nine of the stocky, broad-shouldered creatures. Marcus quickly realized the man’s attitude derived from his correct notion that a quick sale was not in order. None of the nine would make for a good travel companion. These dwarves were bitter, angry individuals, degraded into a near-bestial state by the harsh oppression of their slavery.
Calassara: Ah, yes, the harsh oppression of their slavery… which one might think would reflect badly on the society that has inflicted it and reduced these men to such a state, but apparently not with the great Vox Day at the pen! *shakes her head* Marcus wonders if any of the other teams have better dwarves, but apparently the Whites are all humans and don’t take breeds (how… utterly demeaning), Greens prefer orcs and goblins, and the Blues had a team of dwarves but got them all killed last week reenacting a famous battle (brutal and incompetent – what’s not to love?). Which prompts Sextus in turn to start gushing about how amazing that reenactment was and how for a moment he thought the dwarves were going to turn their catapult on the crowd (why is the arena supplying its gladiator slaves with large siege weapons, or possibly the material to quickly build them, that can be turned on the crowd, anyway?). The slave master goes on to explain that he shaves the dwarves’ beards to remind them of their shame and lowly status; they forget sometimes, else. Why are we supposed to like this society again!?
Errezha: Well, Sextus asks again if they have any more dwarves, and the slave master just says they have some injured in the infirmary, but they’re not up for fighting back, unless them not fighting back is what Sextus wants (well, that’s just revolting, and even Marcus and Sextus are appalled at the implications).
But then, this was Amorr, after all, and not even its public dedication to the Lord God Almighty enabled it to escape man’s fallen nature. For every saint, there were ten sinners, and for every man genuinely devoted to faith, good works, and charity, there were three given over to the worst forms of depravity and sadistic decadence. No doubt this man, laboring as he did in this terrible place, saw the evil side of man far more often than its reverse.
Errezha: Ah, yes, well it seems to me that Amorr does more to encourage “man’s fallen nature” than the reverse. Which is also true of my homeland, mind you, but our patron god is literally the king of the Hells. Amorr is, supposedly, dedicated to something better. The master sends the dwarves back and takes Marcus and Sextus to the infirmary. This turns out to be a filthy room, almost a third full of sick or injured gladiators, whose conditions appall both our young Valerians. The master defensively notes that they do try to keep the gladiators alive as long as they can, since they’re a bad investment if they die. Even Marcus notes the hypocrisy of that, though he also notices that most of the injured gladiators are drugged to dull the pain. The training master leads them to a red-haired dwarf named Lodi.
“He took a goblin spear in the side six days ago. But he’s a tough old wardog. Took down four or five goblins and two orcs by hisself, just in that one fight alone. He’s left-handed, likes a warhammer—no surprise—but he’s not too shabby with a blade, neither. Not all that quick, but he’s patient and makes for a mean counterfighter. What do you have, Lodi, eighteen wins?”
Calassara: In other words, aside from being a gladiator, he’s an extremely stereotypical dwarf. I suppose I shouldn’t expect originality from someone like Beale… Lodi corrects the master that he has twenty-three wins and asks what he wants. Marcus tells him he wants a bodyguard; Lodi sizes him up, looking defiant and not broken the way his fellow dwarves were. Marcus asks if he can ride with his injury; Lodi wants to know if being a bodyguard will get him out of here, and he can ride, though in his current state he may need to be tied to the horse. He promises Marcus that it’ll take more than a scratch from an orc to kill him, and he’ll keep both Marcus and Sextus alive if he has to. Marcus asks Lodi’s price, and Sextus says they’ll need a discount since Lodi clearly isn’t in prime condition - *through gritted teeth* ha. Ha. – and the chapter finally comes to an end.
MG: But we’re not quite done for today, since the next chapter is fairly short. Onwards!
IA Q. VII A. I ARG. II
Praeterea, homines in imagine Dei et ad similitudinem Dei creati sunt. Aelvi in imagine Dei et ad similitudinem Dei non creati sunt. Ergo aelvi habent animae naturaliter sibi unita.
Errezha: …anyway, we open with Marcus being stunned by the number of clients who’ve already come to visit the Valerius household. Apparently, normally about twenty-five to thirty men of quality (but not women, obviously…) come to pay homage to the great man but today there are more than twice that number, along with numerous slaves who’ve come to tend to them or prepare the horses for Marcus, Marcipor and Lodi. Even though Magnus himself isn’t up yet, the clients all gravitate towards Marcus (of course they do…) starting with a senator who promises to pray for his mission and may the hand of the Purified be upon you! The senator also offers the knucklebone of Saint Ansfrid, which is apparently supposed to provide protection against sorcery.
MG: Even though the Church actually has a dedicated order of mage-fighters, some of whom will be going with Marcus and the others. Every bit helps, I guess? Anyway, St. Ansfried, sometimes spelled Ansfrid, was a real person, though I’ve not seen anything about him being invoked against sorcery (though I could be wrong) – not sure if this is supposed to be the same guy, in which case it’d be yet another historical figure who’s found his way into Selenoth somehow (at least Tarquin won’t be lonely?). The historical Ansfrid also lived centuries after the fall of Rome in the West, FWIW.
Calassara: Well, Marcus at least has the grace to thank the senator – whose name he doesn’t know -before being interrupted by the arrival of his uncle, accompanied by his three favorites (apparently the scholars are slaves too? Even though the earlier description made it sound like they weren’t… and most slave societies, in my experience, are rather opposed to slaves being educated. Educated slaves get ideas) and a purser named Lautus. One of the clients yells that Magnus is too late, and they’re all busy paying respects to the young dominus, which seems an unwise thing to say in this to the face of your actual patron, and indeed Magnus is seemingly unamused and has Lautus throw a small bag of coins right at him, nearly smacking him in the face. Ah, noblesse oblige, truly a beautiful thing! But of course after realizing just what was thrown at him, the man realizes he’s been rewarded for his impertinence and everyone cheers him and Magnus and urgh, can we get on with it? Magnus tells the client, Gaius Trachalas, to go buy himself a new cloak (his current one is apparently rather ratty) with his money, and everyone laughs as Gaius goes on his way. Magnus then calls for Marcus to join him and requests that his clients walk with him as he accompanies Marcus to the Quadratus Albus, where the Sanctiff will be offering a mass and blessing his mission. Marcus and Magnus then make their way through the crowd and out into the street, with slaves clearing the way and the crowd following.
Errezha: Well, as they walk Magnus tells Marcus it’s him the clients are honoring today, which stuns Marcus even though they were literally just saying that. He notes that Marcus might lead their house someday himself, especially as he’s already gotten the attention of the Sanctiff; he also identifies the Senator who gave Marcus the relic as Publius Hosidius and calls him a wise man (of course…). Magnus also wants to talk to Marcus alone before he sets out, and to warn him he might be in danger in Elebrion. Which somehow stuns Marcus, even though he was just sent to hire (purchase, rather…) a bodyguard yesterday. For a supposed scholar, he’s not very observant, is he? Marcus asks if he’s in danger from the elves.
Magnus snorted. “Have you learned nothing from your histories, boy? The elves? They’re the only ones from whom you have nothing to fear. Unless, of course, King Mael takes it into his head to kill you all on sight. In which case no amount of bodyguards will serve.”
Calassara: In other words, he does have something to fear from the elves. Very clear, Magnus! But apparently, it’s everyone else Marcus has to fear. Magnus reminds him that Amorr is a city built on conquest full of men grown fat upon the conquered and the enslaved (at least he admits it…) and that there are fortunes to be made in war. Magnus then runs Marcus through the costs of operating a legion, noting that someone who can supply all of those needs could become very rich indeed. Aha, so it’s not the priests, the generals or the politicians you need to worry about, it’s those nefarious merchants! None of whom have actually appeared in this story so far, unless you count the slave master who our “heroes” were quite happy to do business with! *beat* Also, the Sanctiff summoned Marcus and gave him his assignment in secret, swearing him not to speak of it. Even his family initially thought he was going to be made a bishop. So… when did knowledge of this mission become public, exactly? When and, more importantly, how? Though Magnus does at least add that Amorran blood is not so thin that men have forgotten that there is more honor to be won by the iron sword on the battlefield than by the silver tongue in the Forum… which can’t help but make it sound like he thinks that sort of hunger for conquest is a good thing, if “thin” blood is the only reason Amorr would stop. Marcus still doesn’t get it, so Magnus speaks plainly.
“Think, lad! Half of Amorr is already salivating at the thought of sacking Elebrion if the Sanctiff is moved to declare holy war against the elves. Think how much wealth a city inhabited by near-immortals must have collected over the centuries! And now that the possibility has presented itself, the other half is dreaming up mad schemes to provoke a war if he doesn’t. The minds of men are fertile ground, and you should be able to imagine what harvest would be reaped should the wicked elves slay a young Amorran nobleman they were guesting.”
Errezha: Somehow, Beale has utterly failed to show us any of this, he’s just told us about it secondhand; well done! In any case, Marcus realizes this is why Magnus wanted a dwarf for a bodyguard, since a dwarf would presumably be neutral in Amorran politics (which doesn’t mean he can’t be bought off…). Magnus doesn’t even trust Macripor, though Marcus insists he’s loyal… and then Magnus even jokes that if he could be sure the Senate would put him in command of the legions, he might have Marcus killed himself! *beat* Ha. Ha. What a loving uncle! But I can honestly say that this is not funny.
MG: And I feel compelled to note that we now have confirmation that Amorr has a Senate, which is in charge of who gets to command the armies, and elected officials like consuls… but we were previously told that the Sanctiff is the head of the Republic, standing in for God. So, uh, if the Senate and consuls run things… where does the Sanctiff fit in? This is a question that Beale never really properly answers.
Errezha: Lovely. They finally arrive at the Quadratus, where Marcus, jumpy from his uncle’s lecture, is briefly stunned by the sight of the huge crowd (oh, well done, Magnus!). This crowd isn’t interested in Marcus, however; they’re all busy trying to get a good look at the Sanctiff, and his entourage:
The Sanctiff was there, of course, enrobed in white and seated on a massive silver throne, as were seven of the Azuli, along with Cassius Claudo, Father Aestus, and four or five other priests Marcus didn’t recognize. But few eyes were on any of them or even the twenty gold-cloaked Michaeline warrior-priests that flanked the princes of the Church on either side.
Elves!
There were two of them, standing behind a large brazier on the Sanctiff’s left at the west edge of the platform. They towered over the crowd, both being nearly a head taller than the soldier-priests despite the blue-dyed horsehair plumes that adorned the Michaelines’ bronze-plated helms. The elves were fair and attractive, although the flames that lit their faces cast weird shadowy tattoos that made them look more sinister and less human than normal. Perhaps it was those shadows or the strange glow from the fire, but they seemed less supernaturally beautiful than Marcus remembered from his childhood sightings ten years before. While the occasional elven merchant or adventuresome bard had passed through the Valerian summer estate to the northwest of the city, they had never been permitted to enter the gates of Amorr itself.
Even more astonishing than their mere presence was the fact that the taller of the two was wearing a silver circlet that indicated he was of noble blood. A noble and therefore a sorcerer, most likely, but one presumably wise enough to refrain from showing any other sign that he was a servant of evil. If he did, it would be a contest to see if the Michaelines would strike him down before the crowd tore him to pieces.
Calassara: …so, beg pardon, but if there are elves in the city, should not speaking with them and determining that they are reasoning beings and therefore have souls (we are and do, for your information! Thank you for your time!) be relatively easy to accomplish and not actually involve a trek across the continent and the risk of setting off a holy war? Asking for a friend? Even Magnus is stunned by the sight, though he orders his slaves to help clear the way for him through the crowd so he can join the Sanctiff on the stage. Marcus follows him, so nervous he almost feels like he’s watching from outside his own body (a nice touch; I’d have preferred it if it wasn’t buried in… this, however!). Once he reaches the platform, he’s overwhelmed by the noise of the crowd and only belatedly realizes they’re screaming his family name; he’s snapped out of his shock by Father Aestus putting his hand on his shoulder and joking that if he wants to announce his candidacy for Tribune, now is not a good time!
Errezha: Well, Marcus lets Aestus guide him over to the Michaeline warrior-priests as the Sanctiff rises to his feet and begins to pray…
MG: Which just seems to be the real-world “Prayer to St. Michael” composed by Pope Leo XIII in the late 1800s. So, uh… hardly an ancient or medieval text here. But hey, it’s Latin, so obviously it fits into our weirdly-already-Christianized Roman Republic-expy, I guess!
Errezha: *facepalms* Marcus, feeling a sense of dread, echoes the prayer to himself, begging Saint Michael to defend them from the shadow of evil. Looking out over the crowd, he wonders how many of them are involved in conspiracies to bring the Amorrans and the elves to war, using the Sanctiff’s actions and Marcus’s blood to justify it? However, he’s torn from his thoughts by the Sanctiff’s voice finishing the prayer, but not before one of the elves notices him and raises an eyebrow at him, causing him to flush (oh, my…). Marcus prays to himself again, for wisdom and discernment, as the Sanctiff wraps up and a thousand voices shout amen! …just as the sun rose above the walls to spill the golden rays of dawn over the white dome of the palace behind the square. Marcus cried out in wonder as the brilliant light reflected down into the crowd, banishing his fears with the darkness. And he was not the only one to marvel at the beauty of the morning and exalt in the sudden warmth that banished the cold along with the darkness. Ah, yes. How very… symbolic. Looking over at the elves, however, he notices them staring at the Sanctiff with a mix of contempt and amusement, and he wonders if their expressions reflect truly the pride of demons – I suspect they reflect more their disdain for these people’s attempt to rule on the status of their souls and the question of whether they’re going to go to war against them or not – and whether this mission has more to do with human evil than divine truth (I am going to guess yes, it obviously does) as the chapter comes to a close.
MG: Ooof, this one was… quite a lot. I think the biggest takeaway I have here is how much Amorr really, truly seems to suck. Admittedly, a lot of this is based on history (albeit history mixed and matched in a weird hodgepodge of eras) and as I noted earlier, I’m not someone who thinks that an author merely depicting an awful society is an endorsement of that society. Hells, my own current WIP is set primarily in a city-state that is very much not nice, once you peel past its veneer of tradition and high culture. But I think there’s a lot with how Beale handles things overall that bother me here. We’ve already discussed how we seem to have a contrast between the miserable slaves we see around the city and the high-status, happy slaves we see around the Valerius family, which really can’t help but feel like Beale is trying to sand the edge off of an appalling and abusive institution and making it seem like slavery isn’t so bad if you have the right master or position (notably IIRC in real life the Greeks and Romans were very much aware that enslavement was one of the worst things that could happen to a person, though they tended more towards “better you than me” than any real sympathy for the enslaved). Hells, a significant chunk of Chapter Two involves our hero literally buying a slave (I don’t think it’s as bad as, say, Shield Hero, for the reason that this actually is Marcus’s home culture and the values he grew up with and hasn’t had cause to question, unlike Naofumi being a modern person from a society without slavery taking to being a slave-master disturbingly easily, and of course Rome historically had lots of slavery, so it feels less overt in how it’s trying to justify it) but it still bothers me quite a lot. And then you have the reference to a literal genocide Amorr apparently committed that’s just used as setup for a sex joke (and the mention of an entire team of dwarven gladiators getting slaughtered just causes Sextus to talk excitedly about what a good show that was). Just… what!?
But I think the bigger issue is how Beale locates the sympathetic POV and the sort of story he wants to tell. We see everything through Amorran eyes (though the series proper will have some POVs who aren’t Amorran, the majority are) and though Marcus is aware Amorr is flawed, he still accepts it as the baseline and never really shows any indication of thinking it needs significant reform. In the series proper, the people Beale will want us to sympathize with are mostly the traditionalists, while the ones who want to rock the boat are the bad guys. And do remember Beale’s own intention in writing this series – that is, to return to a world of heroic fantasy in refutation to Martin-style grittiness and moral ambiguity (so this series shouldn’t really be considered the sort of dark fantasy where the world being deeply screwed up in ways nobody can help and everyone just kind of has to live with is a deliberate feature of the themes and worldbuilding). And that’s not even getting into Beale’s rancid IRL views and actions. Even Amorr’s warmongering, which is lampshaded in chapter three, isn’t really presented as bad in itself so much as inconvenient to our protagonists’ goals and something unscrupulous people might take advantage of (and even Marcus’s uncle Magnus, who we’re repeatedly and bluntly told is a great and wise man, flat-out admits he might do so himself under the right circumstances and has done similar things in the past and clearly approves of Amorr’s militarism in general, if not this specific instance). Taken as a whole, his decision to set his series in a brutal, slaving, expansionist, elitist theocratic empire (notionally run by a church which is clearly either unable or unwilling to restrain its excesses – though this also highlights the jarring anachronism of what seems to be the medieval Catholic Church somehow existing and being socially dominant in what’s otherwise mostly an expy of the classical Roman Republic) which he presents largely uncritically… sure is a choice, all right.
Other than that, most of the problems continue from the first chapter. I’m still unclear why Marcus is such a big deal (he honestly doesn’t come across as all that bright in today’s sections, needing even very basic ideas explained to him) and hearing everyone sing his praises, even when its sometimes sarcastic, gets old really fast; I also remain unsure when the mission went from “top secret” to “everyone knows.” Maybe Beale thinks we should blame Sextus for that… The prose remains pretty unbearable. And on top of all the other issues with Amorr, it remains a confusing mashup of elements from different Roman eras that wouldn’t be so distracting if Amorr was just a vaguely-Roman themed fantasy counterpart culture and Beale wasn’t so obvious about all the historical elements he was just copying directly with minimal changes.
Anyway, that was a terrible couple of chapters, set in a terrible empire following characters I don’t like and don’t care about. Wheee. Next time, Marcus’s journey truly begins. We’ll see you then!
Warning: This post contains discussion of slavery, genocide and imperialism.
MG: Well, everyone, it’s time to continue our journey through the strange and unbearable world of Vox Day’s Summa Elvetica! Last time, we met Marcus, a young scholar who got assigned for reasons which escape me to mediate between two established sages and answer the question of whether elves have souls (which, despite the Amorran Church and the elves having been neighbors for literally centuries, somehow nobody has done before… for some reason). Today, we catch back up with Marcus and learn a bit more about his family as he prepares to begin his journey. Joining us today will be Errezha and Calassara!
Errezha: *muttering* Kill me now.
IA Q. VII A. I ARG. I
Errezha: *stunned* What is that?
MG: *wicked grin* That is our chapter title. *notices Errezha’s horrified expression* Interesting, isn’t it? And I can promise you that all the remaining chapter titles in this… piece of writing (Scales in the comments managed to find the word count, and it’s apparently more in the range of a short novel than a novella, actually; whatever you choose to call it, it sucks) are titled like this! Fun, isn’t it? But this is a demonstration of why I decided to give these things actual numbers in my TOC, for all our peace of mind.
Errezha: And I thought “Prooemium” was bad…
Videtur quod aelvi habeant animae naturaliter sibi unita. Dicitur enim Gen. II, Deus hominem de limo terrae, et inspiravit in faciem eius spiraculum vitae, et factus est homo in animam viventem. Sed ille qui spirat, aliquid a se emittit. Ergo anima qua homo vivit, est aliquid de substantia Dei. Subsistentes cum aelvi, et diversi homini, non acciperunt substantiam Dei ab Deo. Ergo aelvi habent animae naturaliter sibi unita.
Calassara: Oh, is that more of that Latin? How fascinating! I do love ancient languages… though the subject matter of much of the surviving corpus of Thassilonian leaves something to be desired… anyway, we proceed to open the actual chapter in the late evening after the last vestiges of the setting sun had long sense disappeared as a squad of Redeemed escort Marcus to his uncle’s domus.
By day, Amorr belonged to God. But its night was claimed by the worst of His creations. Peril lurked in far too many shadows of the narrow, high-walled, circuitous streets called vici. Even a mounted nobleman born to horse and sword could find himself beaten, stripped, and, if fortunate, merely robbed by the cruel gangs of half-human breeds and bandits who ravaged the city by night.
Errezha: *flatly* Oh, yes, it’s those dastardly “half-human breeds” you’ve got to watch out for. As a “half-human breed” myself, here’s what I think of that. *she spits in disgust* I’m not normally so crass, but, well, that struck a nerve. Though I will say I remain all the more certain that this “Republic” is dominated entirely by humans, and those “part-human breeds,” if they really do make up such a large percentage of criminals, have likely turned to crime due to having no other way to support themselves… something I’ve seen far too often in my own homeland, and was spared only because of having an aristocratic mother – though that came with other difficulties. Of course, it seems like noblemen are the only people whose fate this passage cares about – though rest assured, if the nobility are facing genuine risks like this, the commoners are going to be facing worse.
MG: And, as we see here and will continue to be a recurring theme in this sporking, and this post in particular, is that Beale on the one hand seems to want to present Amorr in general as a shining paragon of human civilization, something that’s maybe not perfect, but at least admirable and aspirational. And on the other hand… Amorr as he actually writes it kind of sucks. As we see here, where apparently what is both the Holy City of the Church and the capital of the most powerful nation on the continent suddenly turns into Mos Eisley spaceport (you will never find a more wretched hive of scum and villainy…) the moment the sun goes down. It honestly reminds me of Newcomb a bit, and all the (probably unintentional) subtext that Eutracia probably wasn’t nearly so wonderful as he was making it out to be… but here the issue is even more stark and blatant somehow. Now, I’m certainly not someone who thinks that depicting something is endorsing it – I can think of a bunch of settings I enjoy reading about that I wouldn’t want to live in if you paid me – but again, with Beale clearly trying to locate the sympathetic POV so firmly above Amorr, it does make all the ways Amorr doesn’t live up to the hype that the more obvious.
Still, even the most lawless of brigands feared crossing the path of the Redeemed, the most fanatical of the Church’s militias. The Redeemed were former gladiators, now rehabilitated— hardened men of violence who had chosen to leave the bloodstained sands of the Coliseum behind them. Slaves they had been and slaves they were still, but they served a different Master now.
MG: Hoo boy, I’m feeling like there’s a lot to unpack here. First off, in terms of our “Amorr is just all of Rome’s greatest hits happening at once,” we have gladiators, because of course we have gladiators. Now, to my knowledge in real life, by the time Rome becomes Christianized the popularity of gladiator games was already waning. Early Church leaders opposed the games on various grounds, ranging from the inherent brutality of the sport to its origins being associated with pagan religious rituals, and Christians were discouraged from attending. Not long after Nicene Christianity was officially adopted as the state religion of the empire, Emperor Honorius would ban the games in the Western Empire, though it took a couple of decades before they actually died out for good (in the Eastern Empire, iirc, chariot races and the theater had always been more popular as public entertainments). So gladiators and a theocratic, Christian Rome coexisting is somewhat anachronistic on the face of it. Now, of course, Amorr isn’t actually Rome, and Beale can do what he wants with his fictional setting – but considering how extremely obvious it is he just ported over the Roman Republic and the medieval Church and only just barely filed the serial numbers off both of them, and that does feel worth noting. Especially since this is a fictional setting so Beale chose which elements of Rome to include, and he deliberately chose to include his fictional Church seeming to happily coexist with a practice that its real-life counterpart opposed and suppressed, and I feel like that’s notable.
On a related note, my understanding is that historically while slave-soldiers were absolutely a thing that existed (the Ottoman Janissaries being perhaps the most famous, but far from the only, example – AFAIK even the Spartans sometimes forced their Helots to fight for them) to my knowledge the Romans only drafted slaves into the army in times of extreme need. Though maybe the “slavery” here is metaphorical, that the Redeemed are a religious order and are therefore “slaves” of God; I can’t recall at the moment if that is specified or not. Slavery itself, to my knowledge, was never actually abolished in Rome but by the time Rome was Christianized was less prevalent than it had been in the Republic and earlier Empire, mostly due to shifting cultural and economic pressures leading to other forms of bonded and unfree labor (ie, what would eventually evolve into medieval serfdom) becoming more prominent. And while retired gladiators might find work as bodyguards, trainers or the like, they weren’t really soldiers as such (and also weren’t usually recruited for the army unless it desperately needed the men) – gladiators were trained to fight in one-on-one bouts or matches where small teams were pitted against one another, not to work as part of larger units (which was part of why gladiator revolts often failed – gladiators didn’t have the right training to fight as part of an army, or for that matter against an army). Ironically, this is something a character will actually point out later in this very chapter! And historically, looking forward to the Papal States and after, when the Pope or the Church hierarchy in general needed troops, they tended to use either elite companies of foreign mercenaries (the Swiss Guard being the only such unit still in service) or else draw them from militant religious orders (which I guess the Redeemed might count as?). Anyway, again, it’s Beale’s setting and he can do what he likes with it, but all of this did feel worth bringing up to compare it to its historical antecedents.
Calassara: Interesting! In any case, the Redeemed’s only real role in this scene is to escort Marcus home, where he’s met by a swarm of slaves – that word in this context makes me… uncomfortable – who tend to his horse. Marcus thanks the Redeemed captain, who responds with a stoic Glory to God and marches off with his men, giving no indication he cares remotely about Marcus or any of this. Ah, finally a character I can relate to! Marcus watches him go and idly wonders what it’s like to be so secure in his duty. And yet, what was a man’s mind for, if not to use? *waspishly* Perhaps when Marcus has put his mind to good use, he can answer that! Finally, Marcus dismounts and hands his horse’s reins to a young slave, who the narrative specifically notes is human, because it was beneath the dignity of House Valerius to own half-breeds or inhumans…
Errezha: *disgusted noise* Unfit even to be slaves to important people! As I suspected!
MG: …and it occurred to me, if Beale was really committed to the Roman theme, shouldn’t Valerius be either a Familia or a Gens (depending on whether it’s a single household or a larger extended clan) rather than a House? Again, his world, his rules, just something I thought of now.
Errezha: I don’t care what he calls it, I’m sure I will hate it as much as I’m rapidly growing to hate all of Amorr – all the worst aspects of home, but wrapped in a sheen of false piety! Gah! Well, Marcus asks the slave boy his name, and it happens to be Deccus; Marcus remembers that he’s a Bethnian, like a number of other slaves his uncle purchased last spring, and that apparently Bethnians are cheap right now because a rebellion in that province was recently crushed and many captives were taken. *disgusted noise* All of which Marcus thinks about entirely dispassionately, the situation never stirring his emotions or interest at all. He just tells Deccus to take good care of Barat, the horse, and then muses how the family Valerius treats its slaves no worse than most and better than some but the work in the stables is hard, and he hopes his using of Deccus’s name will be enough kindness to count for something, as the scene ends.
MG: And, oof, okay, once again, I’m not someone who considers depicting a thing to be the same as endorsing it, and Marcus is not a modern person and doesn’t share modern values, and he clearly comes from a society where slavery is a long-standing, ultra-normalized institution (as opposed to the protagonist of a certain other currently running spork on Das Sporking…). Even so, there’s something very jarring about reading a scene where our protagonist, someone we’re clearly supposed to like and sympathize with, treats his family’s slaves as basically glorified furniture, and considers even remembering one kid’s name to be a level of kindness that goes above and beyond what is to be expected (even if he also does seem on some level aware of how insufficient it is, he doesn’t go out of his way to do anything more). And considering the sorts of reactionary views Beale is known for IRL, I’m really not inclined to cut him much slack here.
I’m actually reminded, of all things, of a bit from the Prism Pentad series from the Dark Sun D&D campaign setting. Dark Sun, for those unfamiliar, is probably the most unconventional of the major D&D settings (unless we get into some of the weird cosmic stuff in Planescape or Spelljammer); intended as a throwback to pulp sword and sorcery (and even Burroughs-style sword and planet, with its strange creatures and alien environment) it’s set in Athas, a world that has been devasted by long ago magical warfare and reduced to a barely-habitable desert, with civilization centered around a handful of city-states, each of which is ruled by a tyrannical, immortal sorcerer king. It’s a pretty bleak and dystopian place, in other words. The Prism Pentad (and it’s been a while since I’ve read these books, so forgive any mistakes here) focuses first on the rebellion against Kalak, sorcerer-king of Tyr, and subsequently the aftermath of overthrowing him and the consequences thereof. One of the main characters, Agis, is a Tyrian nobleman who ends up falling in with the rebellion. Slavery is endemic on Athas, and as the scion of a wealthy and powerful family, Agis owns many slaves and considers himself a “kind” master. Partway through the book, the heroes are forced to flee through a network of tunnels under Tyr and run across a shrine that predates Kalak’s reign. Agis is the only member of the party who physically can’t enter – it’s all but outright stated that his status as a slave owner, by itself, is enough of a stain on his soul as to bar him entry (in game terms, presumably that means it’s enough to keep him from having a “good” alignment at this point, not that the characters in-universe think of it that way). Later in the book, he learns that an elderly slave who’s been with his family for generations has been spying on him for the villains – Agis is stunned, but the old slave just points out that while he doesn’t really have anything against Agis personally and he’s served far worse people, there’s not a slave in the world who wouldn’t work against his master or try for freedom, given the chance. Agis himself, to his credit, engages in some legitimate soul-searching after these incidents and realizes that he was kidding himself and that “nice” master or no, he was still an active participant in upholding Tyr’s systems of abuse and oppression, and once Kalak is overthrown, is one of those who makes sure the new government outlaws slavery. Just… a comparison I find noteworthy, for some reason (also, I always felt a number of the cities of Athas have at least some Roman coding, though Tyr is not the most explicit about it).
Calassara: We then cut to how rumor spread faster than sickness in the slaves’ quarters – what a charming metaphor! *disgusted noise – as Marcus is met by his manservant Marcipor, a slave of Savondese descent, the son of an enemy officer Marcus’s uncle defeated and almost exactly Marcus’s age. It’s clear Marcipor knows something is going on, probably because Sextus brought news home ahead of Marcus, and Marcus and Marcipor banter a bit. Also, Marcus calls Marcipor pretty boy and quips that his uncle should sell him to the theater, which sounds… far more flirtatious than I think Beale ever intended!
Marcipor grinned and abandoned the servile pretense. He puffed his chest out and struck a dramatic stance. He was a striking young man, with a strong jaw and a close-cropped, golden beard. More than one slave girl living in the vicinity of the Valerian house had given birth to a fair-haired, blue-eyed baby after Marcipor had passed his sixteenth year.
Calassara: …well. Beale does seem to want to make absolutely certain we know Marcipor is interested in women, doesn’t he? Marcipor thinks he should have been sold to the theater and then gets back to questioning Marcus. Is it true you saw the Sanctiff himself? The whole domus has been utterly agog with rumor ever since you left with Father Aurelius! Apparently, the rumor is even that Marcus is to be made a cardinal, despite his youth. Marcus at least has the decency to be appalled at this.
He knew a bishopric would soon be his for the taking. No noble, not even one with plebian blood, would expect anything less. And it was even possible that an archbishopric might be in the cards. But not even a scion of House Severus could hope to be crowned prince of the church before reaching thirty.
Errezha: Ah, yes, how nice to see that nepotism and cynically trading on one’s family name for positions of authority are alive and well in this holy institution.
MG: Though I’ll observe that Beale does note that you can be of plebian ancestry and still be a noble – so at least he’s not making the common mistake of assuming being plebian was the same thing as being poor or “common.” It’s not much, but hey, could be worse!
Errezha: …quite. Marcus reminds Marcipor that they both think Sextus is an idiot and asks what the bet is. Apparently Marcipor is actually richer than Marcus(!) and Marcus is in his debt more often than not, though he’d rather owe money to Macripor than to his uncle. *arches her eyebrow* I beg your pardon?
MG: As far as I know, while Roman slaves could own a certain amount of personal property, it still ultimately fell under their master’s jurisdiction (though this would technically also be true of anyone who wasn’t the head of their own household and therefore fell under the jurisdiction of their paterfamilias). So, it would seem to me that, effectively, Marcus does owe his uncle, just in a somewhat roundabout way. And honestly, something about this whole dynamic icks me, mostly because it feels like after we’ve just established the ubiquity of slavery in Amorran society and how much it sucks for the vast majority of slaves, here comes Macripor who clearly has a good life and is friends with… not his master, exactly (Marcus’s uncle is Macripor’s owner, not Marcus himself) but the person he’s been assigned to, let’s say. It’s as if Beale is trying to tell us that oh, it’s not really that bad because some slaves can have comfortable lives. Even though Macripor is clearly a very favored and high-status slave and his life is not at all representative of what the vast majority of Amorran slaves (who, going by Rome, probably mostly do difficult or dangerous agricultural or menial labor under very poor conditions) go through (and even someone like Macripor would have little to nothing in the way of legal defenses if someone in the Valerius household did decide to abuse him, or he got sold off to the mines or something to pay off a debt or the like – he is still a slave, and therefore in an inherently precarious and dangerous position). So… yeah, intentionally or otherwise it just feels like Beale is trying to put a glossy sheen on an inherently abusive and inhumane institution, and either way it skeeves me out, badly.
Errezha: Well. Marcipor says he bet Marcus got a bishopric, since even he thinks Marcus is too young for the lazulate; Marcus thinks he’s lying and wonders if the bet was about who he’d tell first, which won’t be Marcipor because he’s not actually free to tell anything yet and maybe not ever. Since he mentions “returning,” Marcipor gathers he’s going somewhere and insists he can’t go without him, certainly not if he takes that irresponsible lunatic of a cousin instead; Marcus assures him he’s going, if he gets his uncle Magnus’s permission, so Marcipor had better start packing. For now, though, Marcus needs to eat, since he’s hungry enough to eat a boar – funny, merely reading this story has quite killed my appetite – and the scene ends.
Calassara: Well, Marcus finds his uncle Magnus in the triclinium, which I gather is a formal dining room, reclining with his three favorites, oh my.
The room was large, but stark, with no decorations on the white stuccoed walls to detract from the only furniture, a low, tiled table that filled the center of the room and couches on three sides. The colorful tiles told the story of Valerius, the founder of the house, and showed the wounded hero lying in a grove being tended by the wolf who licked his wounds and succored him until his triumphant and vengeful return to Amorr. Magnus often entertained a score or more of Amorr’s great citizens here, senators and equestrians, but fortunately tonight he was as near to alone as Marcus was ever likely to find him.
Calassara: Can we read about the man on the mosaic instead? I’m not sure I’d like him any better, but he at least sounds interesting. Apparently the “favorites” are Lucipor, a slave old enough to be Magnus’s father, and two scholars, Dompor and Lazapor, by the way. Lazapor, as it happens, is advising Magnus, or rather ranting at him.
“You underestimate them, Magnus,” Lazapor said. “The villagemen seek no justice. They only slaver after power in the city! What you consider to be an open hand extended in a spirit of generosity, they see only as weakness. Make the mistake of allowing one snake into the Senate, and I assure you a thousand will soon squirm in behind him!”
Calassara: Charming. Marcus comes in, after having had his feet washed, and is apparently somewhat surprised by Lazapor’s tone. He also notes that his uncle, full name Lucius Valerius Magnus, is a great man in many respects – senator, former consul, and so on – including the impressive size of his paunch. Magnus turns away from Lazapor and invites Marcus to join them. He wants to know if Marcus really was summoned by the Sanctiff or if Sextus had reverted to his childhood custom of telling fanciful tales. And then Magnus’s scholars also jump in to praise him.
“Yes,” Dompor said, “we have long expected miracles from you, Marcus, but you seem to have outdone yourself this time. Our darling Sextus is fond of saying that your piety is surpassed only by the Mater Dei. Are we correct in assuming that His Holiness has asked you to serve as his father confessor?”
Errezha: Urgh; apparently this is meant to be sarcastic, but even so… Marcus says he needs to speak to his uncle alone, so Magnus dismisses the slave and the scholars, which is apparently not only unusual, it was almost unprecedented. When they’re alone, Magnus asks if any bishops died recently, since he didn’t know any sees were open (they really are assuming Marcus has made bishop, aren’t they? And Beale has utterly failed at convincing me that Marcus is qualified to be a bishop…) but Marcus admits he’s not actually even committed to the priesthood as a vocation yet! *shakes her head* My, my. That just makes all the fuss about him all the more inexplicable, doesn’t it? But Magnus is stunned when Marcus tells him the Sanctiff is sending him to Elebrion and that Ahenobarbus could be stirring up trouble with this and always sticks his red beard into places it’s not wanted.
Marcus blinked. He was unaccustomed to hearing His Holiness, the Sanctified Charity IV, forty-fourth Sanctiff of Amorr, described in such familiar and unflattering terms. Furthermore, the Sanctiff was not only clean-shaven, but his hair had been white as long as Marcus could remember. Red beard?
Errezha: Things that Marcus the great scholar seems to have difficulty understanding – the passage of time, the greying of an old man’s hair, or that that same man might have decided at some point to shave his beard.
MG: And I’m not the first one to point this out, but the Sanctiff’s real name puts me in mind of one Lucius Domitius Ahenobarbus… better known to history as Emperor Nero of Rome. There’s a joke to be made about fiddling in here somewhere, I just know it…
Calassara: …I play the lute, is that close enough? Marcus thinks that this is just a scholarly investigation of the elves, but Magnus isn’t so sure. He’s fought both with and against the elves (which just makes me wonder once again why, if the Amorrans have such a long history with the elves, they haven’t determined whether or not they have souls to their satisfaction yet?) and that one thing elves aren’t is fools; they’re pretty enough, but there’s steel underneath, lad – never forget it (oh, I’m all a flutter! I bet you say that to all the elves!)! Magnus is of the opinion that no one lives as long as elves do without learning something (I… actually think I have some counterexamples of that from my own life, if he’s curious?) and they’ll know why he’s there and the implications of what will happen if the Church rules the elves are nothing more than talking beasts… Considering what I always heard of King Caerwyn’s court, I imagine he would’ve considered an infestation of monks preaching celibacy and the Church to be an act of war. Tarquin’s tarnation! I suppose we can hope this new High King is cut from a different cloth. Hmmm; I’m not sure I’d consider having celibacy being preached at me to be an act of war, though I also wouldn’t take it very seriously… then again, if the preacher was annoying enough…
MG: Also, “Tarquin’s Tarnation?” One, is that supposed to be a curse? Two, does that mean that Tarquinius Superbus, last king of Rome whose ouster led to the creation of the Republic, existed in Selenoth somehow? Or possibly General Tarquin from Order of the Stick; I think that Tarquin and Beale might deserve each other, actually.
Errezha: I don’t know who those are, and I don’t care. Marcus is left thinking on whether Magnus will give his blessing to go on the mission or not, though he thinks he will. Apparently if Marcus does formally take a position with the Church he’ll be banned from also sitting in the Senate, though his older brother has already embarked on a political career and been elected as one of fifteen tribunes, whatever those may be, while his sisters have done their duty and provided his father with four members of the following generation, including three potential heirs. Lovely how Marcus makes it plain exactly how the family Valerius values its daughters, is it not? As if I didn’t hate this country enough already…
Meanwhile, Sextus has two brothers serving in the army under Marcus’s father and a third brother who has already been a tribune, so the Valerii are clearly not hurting for ambitious young men. Finally, Magnus tells Marcus he’s a good lad, and even if the Sanctiff is taking risks, they still stand to gain from it. But he warns Marcus that there’s more going on than he realizes and to keep his eyes open. He bids Marcus to say goodbye to his mother before he goes, since she’s already lonely with Marcus’s father in the field; Magnus himself will write to his brother Corvus, Marcus’s father, and explain what’s going on, though he’s not sure Corvus will understand. And Sextus is not to tag along with Marcus, on penalty of being lashed and having his allowance halved (oh, look, Magnus makes the exact sort of threats my mother used to love! Charming). Marcus grins, promises to tell Sextus and thanks his uncle for his advice, and the scene ends.
Calassara: And so, we cut to Magnus, musing on how the news of Marcus’s mission surprised him and wondering if he should have forbidden his nephew to go. Apparently, he’s sent thousands of men to their deaths without hesitation before – Calistria’s Sting! – but the thought of losing his brother’s youngest son bothers him (ah, so he only cares about the deaths of people when they’re related to him, then?). He thinks that Marcus is trained but no fighter, while Macripor is more of a lover than a warrior (not mutually exclusive, I’ll have you know…) He considers hiring a bodyguard for Marcus, but soldiers fight as a unit and so one alone isn’t much good. He considers a gladiator, but worries about finding one who can’t be bought off. Apparently, if the Church rules elves don’t have souls it could mean a holy war (Calistria’s Sting, indeed! The only reason I can imagine for that war with that justification is genocide! And we’re supposed to be rooting for these people?) and every merchant and war profiteer in the Republic will want a part of that – and some might be willing to help it along. He wonders who can’t be bought off by man or elf and then summons a servant and orders him to fetch Lucipor and his son who may be useful for once; apparently with that description he doesn’t need to name names for the servant to know he means Sextus, and as he runs off the scene ends.
Errezha: We cut to Marcus waking up in the cubiculum alone and wondering where Marcipor is. Slaves help him wash and dress and he goes to find Sextus in the triclinium, eating breakfast and feeding a dog from the table. The chat about how Marcus told his mother where he was going last night, and apparently, she was entirely unbothered by it; Sextus think Marcus is lucky to have an uninterested mother and a father who is always on campaign, compared to Sextus’s own father always butting into his affairs and has forbidden him to go with Marcus. Marcus doesn’t think Sextus would be interested anyway. There won’t be any gambling or girl-chasing, and I don’t recall ecclesiastical debate being one of your favorite pastimes. Sextus thinks he could make his own amusement.
“Chance is everywhere, my dear boy. And wherever there are guards, there you will find men who roll the bones. As for girls, I daresay that Elebrion is full of them!” Sextus’s eyes gleamed wickedly. “Elven girls. I’ve only seen one or two, but they were lovely. Gorgeous! Tall, slender, skin like milk. If you look past the pointy ears and the haughty attitude, why, they might be Vargeyar maidens, and there’s no harm in that!”
Calassara: Well, I can’t speak for Selenoth’s elves, but if Sextus ever visits my homeland… well, he might find some things that would rather surprise him! Then again, Marcus thinks Sextus would try to seduce the first elven sorceress he met and get turned into a toad. Sextus ignores him, happily fantasizing about marrying two or three elven women and founding his own nation (shall I tell him that elves, at least where I come from, are less fertile than humans, generally speaking?) and then idly wonders about half-elves. Why did we kill them all, do you happen to remember? *appalled* So, not only is the Amorran Republic very likely to commit genocide on elves, they’ve already done so on half-elves!? Why? And Sextus and Marcus discuss this so… so casually, like it’s entirely unremarkable! Why are we supposed to root for what I’m increasingly certain would be the evil empire in any other setting!? (No offense intended, Errezha, I’m sure Cheliax has its good points… somewhere.) And Marcus, as it happens, only jokes that they killed the half-elves to spare them from Sextus’s unseemly lusts (because genocide is so funny, apparently!) and then goes back to asking Sextus if he wants to go to the baths today like nothing happened. I. Hate. Both of them.
Errezha: You’re only realizing this now? Sextus is happy to go with Marcus, since he has orders to go with him to the Arena anyway – there aren’t any fights today, but his father has ordered Sextus to help Marcus buy a bodyguard capable of protecting you from those hot-blooded elven slatterns.
Calassara: *idly draws her rapier* Challenge accepted.
Errezha: *sighs* After Sextus jokingly reminds Marcus what a gladiator is, Marcus wonders why he needs a bodyguard, since the Sanctiff should be providing some. Sextus thinks Magnus wants someone along who’s there to watch out for Marcus specifically. Marcus shrugs and goes along with it, though he doubts he’ll need one – how naïve – and that if the elven high king Mael decides to kill them all, one more bodyguard won’t amount to much, and the scene ends.
Calassara: We cut to Marcus and Sextus arriving at the Colosseo (I thought it was the “Coliseum” earlier?) where Marcus is initially happy to get out of the sun, only to be repelled by the smell (which Beale sees fit to describe for us, at length). He looks around at various trophies and weapons and then spots a man working on a scroll who is apparently the arena’s chief accountant. He’s annoyed when Sextus interrupts him and says he’s here to buy a slave, and that he’s only interested in dwarves who fight for the Red team.
The time it took to summon them seemed like an eternity in that dark and odorous place, but finally the master begrudgingly presented nine of the stocky, broad-shouldered creatures. Marcus quickly realized the man’s attitude derived from his correct notion that a quick sale was not in order. None of the nine would make for a good travel companion. These dwarves were bitter, angry individuals, degraded into a near-bestial state by the harsh oppression of their slavery.
Calassara: Ah, yes, the harsh oppression of their slavery… which one might think would reflect badly on the society that has inflicted it and reduced these men to such a state, but apparently not with the great Vox Day at the pen! *shakes her head* Marcus wonders if any of the other teams have better dwarves, but apparently the Whites are all humans and don’t take breeds (how… utterly demeaning), Greens prefer orcs and goblins, and the Blues had a team of dwarves but got them all killed last week reenacting a famous battle (brutal and incompetent – what’s not to love?). Which prompts Sextus in turn to start gushing about how amazing that reenactment was and how for a moment he thought the dwarves were going to turn their catapult on the crowd (why is the arena supplying its gladiator slaves with large siege weapons, or possibly the material to quickly build them, that can be turned on the crowd, anyway?). The slave master goes on to explain that he shaves the dwarves’ beards to remind them of their shame and lowly status; they forget sometimes, else. Why are we supposed to like this society again!?
Errezha: Well, Sextus asks again if they have any more dwarves, and the slave master just says they have some injured in the infirmary, but they’re not up for fighting back, unless them not fighting back is what Sextus wants (well, that’s just revolting, and even Marcus and Sextus are appalled at the implications).
But then, this was Amorr, after all, and not even its public dedication to the Lord God Almighty enabled it to escape man’s fallen nature. For every saint, there were ten sinners, and for every man genuinely devoted to faith, good works, and charity, there were three given over to the worst forms of depravity and sadistic decadence. No doubt this man, laboring as he did in this terrible place, saw the evil side of man far more often than its reverse.
Errezha: Ah, yes, well it seems to me that Amorr does more to encourage “man’s fallen nature” than the reverse. Which is also true of my homeland, mind you, but our patron god is literally the king of the Hells. Amorr is, supposedly, dedicated to something better. The master sends the dwarves back and takes Marcus and Sextus to the infirmary. This turns out to be a filthy room, almost a third full of sick or injured gladiators, whose conditions appall both our young Valerians. The master defensively notes that they do try to keep the gladiators alive as long as they can, since they’re a bad investment if they die. Even Marcus notes the hypocrisy of that, though he also notices that most of the injured gladiators are drugged to dull the pain. The training master leads them to a red-haired dwarf named Lodi.
“He took a goblin spear in the side six days ago. But he’s a tough old wardog. Took down four or five goblins and two orcs by hisself, just in that one fight alone. He’s left-handed, likes a warhammer—no surprise—but he’s not too shabby with a blade, neither. Not all that quick, but he’s patient and makes for a mean counterfighter. What do you have, Lodi, eighteen wins?”
Calassara: In other words, aside from being a gladiator, he’s an extremely stereotypical dwarf. I suppose I shouldn’t expect originality from someone like Beale… Lodi corrects the master that he has twenty-three wins and asks what he wants. Marcus tells him he wants a bodyguard; Lodi sizes him up, looking defiant and not broken the way his fellow dwarves were. Marcus asks if he can ride with his injury; Lodi wants to know if being a bodyguard will get him out of here, and he can ride, though in his current state he may need to be tied to the horse. He promises Marcus that it’ll take more than a scratch from an orc to kill him, and he’ll keep both Marcus and Sextus alive if he has to. Marcus asks Lodi’s price, and Sextus says they’ll need a discount since Lodi clearly isn’t in prime condition - *through gritted teeth* ha. Ha. – and the chapter finally comes to an end.
MG: But we’re not quite done for today, since the next chapter is fairly short. Onwards!
IA Q. VII A. I ARG. II
Praeterea, homines in imagine Dei et ad similitudinem Dei creati sunt. Aelvi in imagine Dei et ad similitudinem Dei non creati sunt. Ergo aelvi habent animae naturaliter sibi unita.
Errezha: …anyway, we open with Marcus being stunned by the number of clients who’ve already come to visit the Valerius household. Apparently, normally about twenty-five to thirty men of quality (but not women, obviously…) come to pay homage to the great man but today there are more than twice that number, along with numerous slaves who’ve come to tend to them or prepare the horses for Marcus, Marcipor and Lodi. Even though Magnus himself isn’t up yet, the clients all gravitate towards Marcus (of course they do…) starting with a senator who promises to pray for his mission and may the hand of the Purified be upon you! The senator also offers the knucklebone of Saint Ansfrid, which is apparently supposed to provide protection against sorcery.
MG: Even though the Church actually has a dedicated order of mage-fighters, some of whom will be going with Marcus and the others. Every bit helps, I guess? Anyway, St. Ansfried, sometimes spelled Ansfrid, was a real person, though I’ve not seen anything about him being invoked against sorcery (though I could be wrong) – not sure if this is supposed to be the same guy, in which case it’d be yet another historical figure who’s found his way into Selenoth somehow (at least Tarquin won’t be lonely?). The historical Ansfrid also lived centuries after the fall of Rome in the West, FWIW.
Calassara: Well, Marcus at least has the grace to thank the senator – whose name he doesn’t know -before being interrupted by the arrival of his uncle, accompanied by his three favorites (apparently the scholars are slaves too? Even though the earlier description made it sound like they weren’t… and most slave societies, in my experience, are rather opposed to slaves being educated. Educated slaves get ideas) and a purser named Lautus. One of the clients yells that Magnus is too late, and they’re all busy paying respects to the young dominus, which seems an unwise thing to say in this to the face of your actual patron, and indeed Magnus is seemingly unamused and has Lautus throw a small bag of coins right at him, nearly smacking him in the face. Ah, noblesse oblige, truly a beautiful thing! But of course after realizing just what was thrown at him, the man realizes he’s been rewarded for his impertinence and everyone cheers him and Magnus and urgh, can we get on with it? Magnus tells the client, Gaius Trachalas, to go buy himself a new cloak (his current one is apparently rather ratty) with his money, and everyone laughs as Gaius goes on his way. Magnus then calls for Marcus to join him and requests that his clients walk with him as he accompanies Marcus to the Quadratus Albus, where the Sanctiff will be offering a mass and blessing his mission. Marcus and Magnus then make their way through the crowd and out into the street, with slaves clearing the way and the crowd following.
Errezha: Well, as they walk Magnus tells Marcus it’s him the clients are honoring today, which stuns Marcus even though they were literally just saying that. He notes that Marcus might lead their house someday himself, especially as he’s already gotten the attention of the Sanctiff; he also identifies the Senator who gave Marcus the relic as Publius Hosidius and calls him a wise man (of course…). Magnus also wants to talk to Marcus alone before he sets out, and to warn him he might be in danger in Elebrion. Which somehow stuns Marcus, even though he was just sent to hire (purchase, rather…) a bodyguard yesterday. For a supposed scholar, he’s not very observant, is he? Marcus asks if he’s in danger from the elves.
Magnus snorted. “Have you learned nothing from your histories, boy? The elves? They’re the only ones from whom you have nothing to fear. Unless, of course, King Mael takes it into his head to kill you all on sight. In which case no amount of bodyguards will serve.”
Calassara: In other words, he does have something to fear from the elves. Very clear, Magnus! But apparently, it’s everyone else Marcus has to fear. Magnus reminds him that Amorr is a city built on conquest full of men grown fat upon the conquered and the enslaved (at least he admits it…) and that there are fortunes to be made in war. Magnus then runs Marcus through the costs of operating a legion, noting that someone who can supply all of those needs could become very rich indeed. Aha, so it’s not the priests, the generals or the politicians you need to worry about, it’s those nefarious merchants! None of whom have actually appeared in this story so far, unless you count the slave master who our “heroes” were quite happy to do business with! *beat* Also, the Sanctiff summoned Marcus and gave him his assignment in secret, swearing him not to speak of it. Even his family initially thought he was going to be made a bishop. So… when did knowledge of this mission become public, exactly? When and, more importantly, how? Though Magnus does at least add that Amorran blood is not so thin that men have forgotten that there is more honor to be won by the iron sword on the battlefield than by the silver tongue in the Forum… which can’t help but make it sound like he thinks that sort of hunger for conquest is a good thing, if “thin” blood is the only reason Amorr would stop. Marcus still doesn’t get it, so Magnus speaks plainly.
“Think, lad! Half of Amorr is already salivating at the thought of sacking Elebrion if the Sanctiff is moved to declare holy war against the elves. Think how much wealth a city inhabited by near-immortals must have collected over the centuries! And now that the possibility has presented itself, the other half is dreaming up mad schemes to provoke a war if he doesn’t. The minds of men are fertile ground, and you should be able to imagine what harvest would be reaped should the wicked elves slay a young Amorran nobleman they were guesting.”
Errezha: Somehow, Beale has utterly failed to show us any of this, he’s just told us about it secondhand; well done! In any case, Marcus realizes this is why Magnus wanted a dwarf for a bodyguard, since a dwarf would presumably be neutral in Amorran politics (which doesn’t mean he can’t be bought off…). Magnus doesn’t even trust Macripor, though Marcus insists he’s loyal… and then Magnus even jokes that if he could be sure the Senate would put him in command of the legions, he might have Marcus killed himself! *beat* Ha. Ha. What a loving uncle! But I can honestly say that this is not funny.
MG: And I feel compelled to note that we now have confirmation that Amorr has a Senate, which is in charge of who gets to command the armies, and elected officials like consuls… but we were previously told that the Sanctiff is the head of the Republic, standing in for God. So, uh, if the Senate and consuls run things… where does the Sanctiff fit in? This is a question that Beale never really properly answers.
Errezha: Lovely. They finally arrive at the Quadratus, where Marcus, jumpy from his uncle’s lecture, is briefly stunned by the sight of the huge crowd (oh, well done, Magnus!). This crowd isn’t interested in Marcus, however; they’re all busy trying to get a good look at the Sanctiff, and his entourage:
The Sanctiff was there, of course, enrobed in white and seated on a massive silver throne, as were seven of the Azuli, along with Cassius Claudo, Father Aestus, and four or five other priests Marcus didn’t recognize. But few eyes were on any of them or even the twenty gold-cloaked Michaeline warrior-priests that flanked the princes of the Church on either side.
Elves!
There were two of them, standing behind a large brazier on the Sanctiff’s left at the west edge of the platform. They towered over the crowd, both being nearly a head taller than the soldier-priests despite the blue-dyed horsehair plumes that adorned the Michaelines’ bronze-plated helms. The elves were fair and attractive, although the flames that lit their faces cast weird shadowy tattoos that made them look more sinister and less human than normal. Perhaps it was those shadows or the strange glow from the fire, but they seemed less supernaturally beautiful than Marcus remembered from his childhood sightings ten years before. While the occasional elven merchant or adventuresome bard had passed through the Valerian summer estate to the northwest of the city, they had never been permitted to enter the gates of Amorr itself.
Even more astonishing than their mere presence was the fact that the taller of the two was wearing a silver circlet that indicated he was of noble blood. A noble and therefore a sorcerer, most likely, but one presumably wise enough to refrain from showing any other sign that he was a servant of evil. If he did, it would be a contest to see if the Michaelines would strike him down before the crowd tore him to pieces.
Calassara: …so, beg pardon, but if there are elves in the city, should not speaking with them and determining that they are reasoning beings and therefore have souls (we are and do, for your information! Thank you for your time!) be relatively easy to accomplish and not actually involve a trek across the continent and the risk of setting off a holy war? Asking for a friend? Even Magnus is stunned by the sight, though he orders his slaves to help clear the way for him through the crowd so he can join the Sanctiff on the stage. Marcus follows him, so nervous he almost feels like he’s watching from outside his own body (a nice touch; I’d have preferred it if it wasn’t buried in… this, however!). Once he reaches the platform, he’s overwhelmed by the noise of the crowd and only belatedly realizes they’re screaming his family name; he’s snapped out of his shock by Father Aestus putting his hand on his shoulder and joking that if he wants to announce his candidacy for Tribune, now is not a good time!
Errezha: Well, Marcus lets Aestus guide him over to the Michaeline warrior-priests as the Sanctiff rises to his feet and begins to pray…
MG: Which just seems to be the real-world “Prayer to St. Michael” composed by Pope Leo XIII in the late 1800s. So, uh… hardly an ancient or medieval text here. But hey, it’s Latin, so obviously it fits into our weirdly-already-Christianized Roman Republic-expy, I guess!
Errezha: *facepalms* Marcus, feeling a sense of dread, echoes the prayer to himself, begging Saint Michael to defend them from the shadow of evil. Looking out over the crowd, he wonders how many of them are involved in conspiracies to bring the Amorrans and the elves to war, using the Sanctiff’s actions and Marcus’s blood to justify it? However, he’s torn from his thoughts by the Sanctiff’s voice finishing the prayer, but not before one of the elves notices him and raises an eyebrow at him, causing him to flush (oh, my…). Marcus prays to himself again, for wisdom and discernment, as the Sanctiff wraps up and a thousand voices shout amen! …just as the sun rose above the walls to spill the golden rays of dawn over the white dome of the palace behind the square. Marcus cried out in wonder as the brilliant light reflected down into the crowd, banishing his fears with the darkness. And he was not the only one to marvel at the beauty of the morning and exalt in the sudden warmth that banished the cold along with the darkness. Ah, yes. How very… symbolic. Looking over at the elves, however, he notices them staring at the Sanctiff with a mix of contempt and amusement, and he wonders if their expressions reflect truly the pride of demons – I suspect they reflect more their disdain for these people’s attempt to rule on the status of their souls and the question of whether they’re going to go to war against them or not – and whether this mission has more to do with human evil than divine truth (I am going to guess yes, it obviously does) as the chapter comes to a close.
MG: Ooof, this one was… quite a lot. I think the biggest takeaway I have here is how much Amorr really, truly seems to suck. Admittedly, a lot of this is based on history (albeit history mixed and matched in a weird hodgepodge of eras) and as I noted earlier, I’m not someone who thinks that an author merely depicting an awful society is an endorsement of that society. Hells, my own current WIP is set primarily in a city-state that is very much not nice, once you peel past its veneer of tradition and high culture. But I think there’s a lot with how Beale handles things overall that bother me here. We’ve already discussed how we seem to have a contrast between the miserable slaves we see around the city and the high-status, happy slaves we see around the Valerius family, which really can’t help but feel like Beale is trying to sand the edge off of an appalling and abusive institution and making it seem like slavery isn’t so bad if you have the right master or position (notably IIRC in real life the Greeks and Romans were very much aware that enslavement was one of the worst things that could happen to a person, though they tended more towards “better you than me” than any real sympathy for the enslaved). Hells, a significant chunk of Chapter Two involves our hero literally buying a slave (I don’t think it’s as bad as, say, Shield Hero, for the reason that this actually is Marcus’s home culture and the values he grew up with and hasn’t had cause to question, unlike Naofumi being a modern person from a society without slavery taking to being a slave-master disturbingly easily, and of course Rome historically had lots of slavery, so it feels less overt in how it’s trying to justify it) but it still bothers me quite a lot. And then you have the reference to a literal genocide Amorr apparently committed that’s just used as setup for a sex joke (and the mention of an entire team of dwarven gladiators getting slaughtered just causes Sextus to talk excitedly about what a good show that was). Just… what!?
But I think the bigger issue is how Beale locates the sympathetic POV and the sort of story he wants to tell. We see everything through Amorran eyes (though the series proper will have some POVs who aren’t Amorran, the majority are) and though Marcus is aware Amorr is flawed, he still accepts it as the baseline and never really shows any indication of thinking it needs significant reform. In the series proper, the people Beale will want us to sympathize with are mostly the traditionalists, while the ones who want to rock the boat are the bad guys. And do remember Beale’s own intention in writing this series – that is, to return to a world of heroic fantasy in refutation to Martin-style grittiness and moral ambiguity (so this series shouldn’t really be considered the sort of dark fantasy where the world being deeply screwed up in ways nobody can help and everyone just kind of has to live with is a deliberate feature of the themes and worldbuilding). And that’s not even getting into Beale’s rancid IRL views and actions. Even Amorr’s warmongering, which is lampshaded in chapter three, isn’t really presented as bad in itself so much as inconvenient to our protagonists’ goals and something unscrupulous people might take advantage of (and even Marcus’s uncle Magnus, who we’re repeatedly and bluntly told is a great and wise man, flat-out admits he might do so himself under the right circumstances and has done similar things in the past and clearly approves of Amorr’s militarism in general, if not this specific instance). Taken as a whole, his decision to set his series in a brutal, slaving, expansionist, elitist theocratic empire (notionally run by a church which is clearly either unable or unwilling to restrain its excesses – though this also highlights the jarring anachronism of what seems to be the medieval Catholic Church somehow existing and being socially dominant in what’s otherwise mostly an expy of the classical Roman Republic) which he presents largely uncritically… sure is a choice, all right.
Other than that, most of the problems continue from the first chapter. I’m still unclear why Marcus is such a big deal (he honestly doesn’t come across as all that bright in today’s sections, needing even very basic ideas explained to him) and hearing everyone sing his praises, even when its sometimes sarcastic, gets old really fast; I also remain unsure when the mission went from “top secret” to “everyone knows.” Maybe Beale thinks we should blame Sextus for that… The prose remains pretty unbearable. And on top of all the other issues with Amorr, it remains a confusing mashup of elements from different Roman eras that wouldn’t be so distracting if Amorr was just a vaguely-Roman themed fantasy counterpart culture and Beale wasn’t so obvious about all the historical elements he was just copying directly with minimal changes.
Anyway, that was a terrible couple of chapters, set in a terrible empire following characters I don’t like and don’t care about. Wheee. Next time, Marcus’s journey truly begins. We’ll see you then!
no subject
Date: 2026-02-05 04:03 am (UTC)IA Q. VII A. I ARG. I
La-li-lu-le-lo La-li-lu-le-lo La-li-lu-le-lo
One Google Translate later
"It seems that the celestial beings have souls naturally united to themselves. For it is said in Gen. 2:1, "God formed man of the dust of the ground, and breathed into his face the breath of life, and man became a living soul." But he who breathes, sends forth something from himself. Therefore the soul by which man lives is something of the substance of God. Subsisting with the celestial beings, and different from man, they did not receive the substance of God from God. Therefore the celestial beings have souls naturally united to themselves."
One theologian for table 5, please.
half-human breed
Here we are. I almost waited.
Hardened men of violence
Hard times make hard men who make die times, who make die men who make die-hard times, who make die-hard men who make a Hideo Kojima Game.
Marcipor grinned and abandoned the servile pretense. He puffed his chest out and struck a dramatic stance. He was a striking young man, with a strong jaw and a close-cropped, golden beard. More than one slave girl living in the vicinity of the Valerian house had given birth to a fair-haired, blue-eyed baby after Marcipor had passed his sixteenth year.
Ah yes, Marcipor had unlocked the fabled Super-Straight mode.
Marcipor: Greeting, fellow heterosexual male, I, also a fellow heterosexual male, must remind you that I have, will have, currently have, must have, and will always have heterosexual sex with heterosexual women who give birth to heterosexual babies. Oh, so many heterosexual babies that I will need a heterosexual house to store them all... I'm also very racially pure.
Tarquin's Tarnation! Thou shalt not speak the Great Moff name in vain!
his sisters have done their duty
So much heterosexual, baby.
skin like milk
I'm pretty sure we say "Skin like silk." or "White like milk/milky white" maybe... Oh silly me, the key takeaway here is that they are EXTRA WHITE, total #FFFFFF, even Jadis the White Witch gets out-whited by them. God save us if any of them could be of “darker” complexion. We're still killing all mixed-blood children too, because they may be white, but not the right kind of white. You see, they are XENOS, and the Emperor... Wait, sorry, wrong setting.
Slavery, slavery, and oh so much more slavery
A little anecdote: I don't like slavery or slavers (duh). How much? Well, in Fallout 3 there's a town called Paradise Falls, which is basically Slaver Town... I've killed everyone here, and never regretted it.
IA Q. VII A. I ARG. II
If you stop and listen, you could hear the sound of Vox Day masturbating about how much he's good at doing Le Latin thinguda.
Furthermore, humans were created in the image of God and in the likeness of God. The heavenly beings were not created in the image of God and in the likeness of God. Therefore the heavenly beings have souls naturally united to themselves.
Vox Day (still masturbating): Oh... I'm sooo goooood at Le Theologie...
Elves!
EEEEELVEEEESS!!!
Closing words
Vox Day pretends to be writing a return to the Good Old Days of heroic fantasy before everything went Grimdark, but writes a world worthy of a playthrough of Age of Decadence. Is Vox Day an idiot? (Yes, he is.) Is Vox Day a conceited liar? (Yes, he is too.) But let's not forget that Vox Day is, first and foremost, a fascist, and that world? For him, it's not a horrible place; it's what a perfect world should be. It's a grotesque blend of the ancient Roman Empire (OG fascist obsession) and the medieval Catholic Church (Christo-fascist flavor). Women don't exist; they're just objects that are here just to be fucked and to expel babies like an ant-queen having found the perfect spot for her anthill. They just stay behind, silent and obedient, when the manly men do all the work. All the "inferior races" are killed or reduced to slavery, or both, and the elves are next on the list. That bogus quest to find if “elves have souls” is pure bullshit since everyone in that fucking kingdom just wants an excuse to kill them all. Marcus's “quest” has only one possible outcome: either he proves that Elves have no souls or he “proves” that they have no souls when he suffers from a “tragic accident” once he arrives among them. Speaking of Marcus, he's assuredly a pseudo-self-insert of Vox Day, a perfect nepo-baby on the “right side” of society who has everything handed to him. He is equally assuredly what Vox Day imagined he would be if he lived in that world he created (every fascist think like that—they're not the most original people).
no subject
Date: 2026-02-07 01:32 am (UTC)Err, I'm in religious studies IRL, which isn't quite the same thing; is that close enough? This part doesn't really touch on my research area, though... but there are parts in the series proper that are tangentially related to it...
Hard times make hard men who make die times, who make die men who make die-hard times, who make die-hard men who make a Hideo Kojima Game.
LOL!
Marcipor: Greeting, fellow heterosexual male, I, also a fellow heterosexual male, must remind you that I have, will have, currently have, must have, and will always have heterosexual sex with heterosexual women who give birth to heterosexual babies. Oh, so many heterosexual babies that I will need a heterosexual house to store them all... I'm also very racially pure.
Macripor technically isn't the same ethnicity as the Amorrans (though I'm pretty sure most of the humans in this series fall under the umbrella of "white" by IRL standards...) but otherwise... LOL.
Tarquin's Tarnation! Thou shalt not speak the Great Moff name in vain!
Terminate this series. Immediately!
A little anecdote: I don't like slavery or slavers (duh). How much? Well, in Fallout 3 there's a town called Paradise Falls, which is basically Slaver Town... I've killed everyone here, and never regretted it.
I will admit I have fond memories of ransacking the Fleshmarket (a literal demonic slave marked in the Abyss) and freeing the slaves there in Wrath of the Righteous.
Vox Day pretends to be writing a return to the Good Old Days of heroic fantasy before everything went Grimdark, but writes a world worthy of a playthrough of Age of Decadence. Is Vox Day an idiot? (Yes, he is.) Is Vox Day a conceited liar? (Yes, he is too.) But let's not forget that Vox Day is, first and foremost, a fascist, and that world? For him, it's not a horrible place; it's what a perfect world should be. It's a grotesque blend of the ancient Roman Empire (OG fascist obsession) and the medieval Catholic Church (Christo-fascist flavor). Women don't exist; they're just objects that are here just to be fucked and to expel babies like an ant-queen having found the perfect spot for her anthill. They just stay behind, silent and obedient, when the manly men do all the work. All the "inferior races" are killed or reduced to slavery, or both, and the elves are next on the list. That bogus quest to find if “elves have souls” is pure bullshit since everyone in that fucking kingdom just wants an excuse to kill them all. Marcus's “quest” has only one possible outcome: either he proves that Elves have no souls or he “proves” that they have no souls when he suffers from a “tragic accident” once he arrives among them. Speaking of Marcus, he's assuredly a pseudo-self-insert of Vox Day, a perfect nepo-baby on the “right side” of society who has everything handed to him. He is equally assuredly what Vox Day imagined he would be if he lived in that world he created (every fascist think like that—they're not the most original people).
*applauds*