Summa Elvetica: Chapter Four
Feb. 16th, 2026 08:57 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
masterghandalfThis is a repost from Das_Sporking2; previous installments of this sporking may be found here.
Warning: This post contains discussion of racism, slavery and genocide.
MG: Well, everyone, it’s time to continue our journey through Vox Day’s Summa Elvetica! Last time, Marcus reported to his uncle, purchased a bodyguard (uhhh…) and got a remarkably public sendoff from the Sanctiff on what had been, up to that point, a supposedly secret mission… and Amorr in general came across as a remarkably evil empire despite every indication being that Beale did not intend it to be read as such. Eeesh. Today, we actually begin our journey, as Marcus and his companions set off to see the elves…. But sadly, Marcus is no Sam Gamgee, Summa Elvetica is no LotR, and Beale, despite his pretensions, is no Tolkien. Joining us today will be Errezha and Calassara!
IA Q. VII A. I ARG. III
Errezha: …still not dignifying that.
Praeterea, ille Psalmographus Deum rogat, “quid est homo quoniam recordaris eius vel filius hominis quoniam visitas eum?” Responso huic quaestioni inquit, “minues eum paulo minus a Deo gloria et decore coronabis eum dabis ei potestatem super opera manuum tuarum cuncta posuisti sub pedibus eius;” Quo discernamus homines apud summam rerum corporearum subsistentium praestare. Ergo aelvi habent animae naturaliter sibi unita.
Calassara: *sighs* I trust all of this will make sense… eventually. Though maybe I’m giving “Vox Day” far too much credit. We open nearly an hour after the end of the previous chapter, which is apparently how long it’s taken Hezekius, the Michaeline commander, to extricate the party from the horde of well-wishing senators, cavalars, priests, and archbishops. Cavalars? Moving on! Apparently, it took Claudo’s sharp tongue to disperse the crowd, which I’m going to choose to interpret as him just insulting everybody until they all went home in disgust.
Marcus was relieved to see both Marcipor and Lodi waiting for him with the baggage train. It was bad enough to worry about holy wars and murderous merchants without having to contemplate months on the road without a friend or even a single change of clothing. Somehow he wasn’t surprised to see that Marcipor had talked the stablemaster into providing him with a rather better mount than human slaves were generally permitted.
Errezha: …why is it that no sooner has Marcus thought of Marcipor as a friend than the narrative goes out of its way to remind us that he’s actually a slave? In the hands of a better writer, there could be some symbolism to that – perhaps Marcus has convinced himself theirs is a relationship much more equal than it actually is, and he’ll have to confront that as the story goes on – but I don’t trust Beale to follow up on it. Lodi is apparently sitting awkwardly on his mule, though Marcus doesn’t say anything because he doesn’t want to bring up his injuries again… and he figures that if Lodi falls off, all the armor he’s wearing will make enough noise to alert everyone and the matter can be corrected. *disgusted face* Charming man. Anyway, Lodi bears his discomfort in stoic silence, and apparently some of the priests have tended his injuries and he looks like he’s on the path to make a swift recovery. Oh, goody, so he’ll be in top shape to fight for his masters once they reach the elven lands! I’m sure he’s just thrilled.
Marcus was fascinated by Lodi. The dwarf was a short but powerful creature, so similar to a man. For all his reading, Marcus knew very little of Lodi’s race, which had not endowed Selenoth with a written history or even a literature worthy of note.
There was, of course, the song of the great siege of Iron Mountain, an epic saga that had taken all Amorr by storm five or six years ago and had inspired the battle re-creation in which Lodi had been injured. But even that had been penned by a Savonder, and though it was supposed to be derived from the dwarven oral tradition, the scholarly consensus was that it was of questionable verisimilitude.
Calassara: *sniffs* Well, Marcus is both racist and condescending. What a lovely combination! And I’m sure Lodi is just thrilled that his people’s sagas inspired the match in which he nearly died for the amusement of his captors. But Marcus, fascinated or no, doesn’t dwell on the topic any longer, instead switching over to how large the traveling party is – Claudo is attended by two priests, six guards, and six slaves, and Father Aestus, appropriately more humble, has only two slaves (because nothing says “humility” like being a slave master…). The Michaeline warrior priests, in contrast, have neither slaves, servants nor squires and instead look after their own needs, and once out of sight of the city change from their vestments into more practical traveling garb. Marcus is impressed by their practicality and so, grudgingly, am I. How long do you think it will take Beale to ruin them?
Errezha: *muttering* Going by his record so far, not long at all… Marcus expects that the sight of the Michaelines and their swords will likely deter any bandits they might encounter on the way to Elebrion; Marcus and Macripor are armed as well (this society arms slaves? Though I suppose there are the gladiators, and the Redeemers last time, so perhaps it’s not that unusual…) though Macripor’s sword is fancy and more suitable for the theater than the battlefield (this is the second time the theater has been brought up in relation to Macripor… I wonder if this will be a trend?). Lodi, meanwhile, has two butcher’s axes but no battle-axe, as well as a crossbow…
MG: Which the Romans did have, primitive crossbows going back all the way to the Greeks iirc, though they weren’t very practical weapons because of their poor loading time and general unwieldiness, and the overall Roman preference for shock combat rather than ranged weapons. I believe the scholarly consensus is they were mostly used in sieges.
Errezha: …which Marcus indeed thinks looks like a siege weapon that the dwarf might be strong enough to wield by hand. We also get some further information about how Marcus is riding near the end of the procession, near the supply wagons, while the priests are riding in another wagon near the center. Beale, by the Prince of Laws this had better be important later on…
They rode for two hours through flat coastal plain on a road flanked by hills that gradually rose toward the horizon on either side. The land had been burned dry by the merciless summer sun. The hilltops were brown and treeless, and what vegetation managed to survive was mostly scrub brush. Every now and then in the distance they would see a gnarled tree standing alone, stubbornly digging its exposed roots into the soil, like an old, leather-skinned farmer refusing to abandon a family farm long gone fallow.
That pitiless sun was now rising toward its peak, and it was apparent to Marcus that he was not the only one getting bored with their slow progress over the roads. Even the dwellings they passed seemed lifeless—tall, narrow, stuccoed-stone structures painted in various shades of yellow that had long ago faded into a cheerless goldenrod.
Calassara: *conversationally* You might think it was comforting that our protagonist shares my boredom with the situation; funnily enough, it isn’t. Marcus wants to speak to Father Aestus to see if he has any advice for him about what the Sanctiff actually wants him to do on this mission (an excellent question!) but doesn’t dare approach Claudo to try and get Aestus away from him. He’s also left thinking about how the Sanctiff, despite recruiting him for this mission personally, gave him no servants and no letter or other signifier that Marcus is reporting directly to him, which combined with everything else is leaving him feeling rather superfluous on this whole venture. Which honestly seems like the first bit of real self-awareness we’ve seen from him. Maybe he can learn!
Errezha: …don’t bet on it. In any case, Marcus’s determination to prove himself leads us right into this:
How to do so? That was the challenge he faced, and with some dismay he began to realize how large the gap between potential and accomplishment appeared to be once one seriously contemplated that gap with an eye toward leaping it.
Even as a boy Marcus had dreamed of writing a text that would astonish the world with its brilliance. Heroes of the Coliseum were lauded one year and disregarded the next. Few could remember who been seated at on the consular thrones more than two or three years ago. Even generals accorded the signal honor of a Triumph were usually forgotten within a decade. Only the scholars—great scholars such as Augustinus, Oxonus, Depotapolis, and the Castrate—were granted the immortal gift of burning their memory into the minds of men.
Errezha: …I suppose it depends on the circles one moves in. But in my experience, while scholars may be remembered and honored by the educated, their names are not the ones on the lips of the masses, most often, so if it’s enduring public memory you want… He then starts musing pretentiously about how Claudo and Aestus started their great works from a blank page and how their first word was like a seed from which everything else grew. And yes, I suppose that’s true, as far as it goes, but presumably some research and contemplation went into their work before they started writing and they didn’t just vomit whatever nonsense was happening to pass through their heads onto the page… though from the overall state of Amorr, perhaps that’s more likely than I’d hope. Anyway, Marcus finally reaches the point that everything Claudo wrote about elves he based on human secondary sources that were generations out of date, since that’s the last time the elves allowed humans into their city – if Marcus can get access to elven texts, it could be what he needs to better Claudo’s work. Aha, there he gets it! A pity the journey there was far too long and pompous.
Calassara: And while I’m still uncertain as to exactly what Claudo’s treatise actually entailed (it really feels like we should learn that, since Marcus is supposed to mediate between him and Aestus?) I’m becoming increasingly certain the man doesn’t actually know what he’s talking about. But Marcus becomes increasingly convinced that if he can access the elven archives he can write a great work focused entirely on the elven people alone. It would be a second Summa, an Elvic Summa. A Summa Elvetica! And so, we have our title. Sadly, if this book is what Marcus produced… well, if it’s numbered among Amorr’s great literature, than the Republic’s cultural output is in a shabbier state than I’d thought! In any case, Marcus goes on to consider that unlike the Castrate he doesn’t have the intellectual reputation to have people simply accept his words as true; Perhaps his Summa could be in the form of a dialogue. No, too pretentious by far. Only an arrogant and supercilious soul like Depotapolis with his bent for mendacious manipulation would think that his carefully orchestrated playing of the two sides toward an inevitable, if not necessarily logical, end was a conclusive form of argument. Calistria’s Sting, that was a pretentious way to say that “people won’t find a scripted dialogue on this topic convincing, either!”
Errezha: Would you expect anything less from our dear friend Marcus? And so, Marcus considers that he needs to prove he can analyze things logically, and therefore he should start from the beginning. Which brings him back to the question of whether elves have souls. He reminds himself of how in the beginning, God created man and animals, but only mankind in his image (this religion really is remarkably humanocentric for something that exists in a world with numerous intelligent races – at least Chelish racism and human supremacism has the excuse of being rooted primarily in nationalism!). So, he wonders if elves are more akin to humans or animals. He thinks the former, but there were significant points to be made on either side. *she snorts loudly* Oh, like what? Elves look like humans; they speak and reason like humans, they, if they’re anything like the elves I know *shoots a meaningful look at Calassara*, have emotions like humans. What argument is there, exactly, that they’re animals? Is Marcus perhaps considering that elves are more like humanoid parrots, merely repeating back the words they hear without understanding? *glances sidelong at Calassara again* Well, certain elves of my acquaintance chatter enough to be parrots, but I don’t think that’s particularly convincing. And what of the dwarves, orcs, goblins and so on (I shudder to imagine what Beale would think of tieflings, though so far he’s given no sign of including anything like my kind in his world, which I shall take as a blessing in disguise) – elves and humans are not the only intelligent races in this world! What of their souls? *sighs* I’m becoming all the more convinced that the only reason this is an issue at all is that the Amorrans are incredibly racist… which just makes Amorr remind me all the more of Cheliax, in all the very worst ways.
Calassara: Anyway, Marcus is interrupted by one of the Michaelines suddenly asking him about his “interesting servant,” meaning Lodi. It takes a moment for Marcus to remember that the Michaeline’s name is Zephanus; Zephanus asks if Marcus doesn’t think the elves will object to Lodi’s presence (and flushes in embarrassment when it looks like one of the elves in their party overheard him). Marcus decides that the elf clearly doesn’t object to Lodi (after looking back at Macripor laughing and joking with some of the other Michaelines for some reason?) and Zephanus thinks that those long ears really do serve a purpose after all. Ah, lovely, more casual racism (but yes, having ears like this is quite lovely – far more sensible than the stubby little ones you humans have)! Marcus comments that all things serve a purpose, even if they don’t understand them, which causes the Michaeline to realize who he is; the Valerian who does not prefer war, since he’d apparently thought Macripor was Marcus and vice versa. Hmmm; a slave who is that easily mistaken for the master seems like it could lead to… complications, doesn’t it? Unless Magnus deliberately sent Marcipor along as a decoy? …which I wouldn’t put past him, unfortunately.
Errezha: Not that I expect Beale will do anything with that, of course. Apparently, Zephanus thinks Marcus is like his father, who doesn’t throw his weight around either (I don’t know – Marcus is certainly pompous enough!). It turns out that Zephanus served under Marcus’s father in a recent campaign against the goblins, though they were crushed easily and he clearly doesn’t think the goblin shamans were much of a challenge to the Michaelines’ talents. Marcus is also familiar with the campaign, since apparently his father is fond of writing letters mid-battle for some reason (which seems like an excellent way to get killed, far be it from this bastard hellspawn to lecture the great general in battle tactics). Though apparently one of the shamans conjured an illusion of a flash flood that could have been disastrous had the goblins properly taken advantage of it, which leaves Marcus troubled that his father could have come so close to defeat against so minor an enemy. Zephanus, however, assures Marcus that it wasn’t his father’s fault (of course not…) because nobody expected the goblins to have an illusionist, as that sort of subtle magic is more popular among human and elven sorcerers.
“I don’t know that I understand the distinction,” Marcus said. “My tutor, Father Aurelius, isn’t enthusiastic about us learning about magic of any kind, not even the battle magics. I’ve picked a few things up from my father’s tales or from a few historical accounts of the classic engagements, but I’m not even sure what the difference between an illusionist and a shaman is.”
Calassara: Well, at least where we’re from, a shaman deals with spirits while an illusionist is a kind of wizard who conjures false images and deceives the senses – it seems fairly self-evident to me! Zephanus agrees that if Marcus’s tutor is a priest, he probably wouldn’t want to talk much about magic. Your average priestling has no need of such information. It would serve no purpose to dangle the evils of a fallen world in front of young minds being honed for the higher purpose. But you, on the other hand, on this journey are going to be surrounded by enchanters, illusionists, sorcerers, and even archmages in a matter of weeks. So before you offend the wrong elf, it might behoove you to have some idea of which ones are capable of turning you into a turnip and which ones aren’t. *flatly* That does seem like quite the gap in Marcus’s education, doesn’t it?
MG: And the thing is… sure, the Amorrans don’t trust magic and don’t really practice it, and it’s clear the Church doesn’t approve of it. But this is still a setting where magic is real and works and the elves, Savondir (Amorr’s main human rival) and even the orcs and goblins all have their own mages and regularly field them. And the Church does have its own dedicated order of mage-fighters – that’s what the Michaelines even are. And Marcus is a noble scion from a society where, like the historical Roman Republic, such men are expected to follow a career path that will involve both war and politics (because senior elected officials are also the ones who’ll be commanding armies, generally speaking) and if they don’t do that they’ll probably go to the Church instead, in a society where the Church also has a lot of influence over policy and strategy. So, uh, leaving someone like Marcus so ignorant he can’t even tell the difference between an illusionist and a shaman when he might, like his own father, someday have to make important snap decisions that depend on being aware of the difference seems like a pretty huge oversight. And maybe the idea is that Amorr has deliberately blinkered itself by blind adherence to dogma… but that doesn’t really feel to me like where Beale is going.
Errezha: *groans and facepalms* Marcus says he doesn’t need to worry, but maybe Macripor could stand to learn this so he doesn’t offend the wrong person and get turned into a turnip, ha, ha. Zephanus thinks Macripor might be more useful that way, and need I remind everyone that this is two free men joking about a slave? Because that does feel notable. Marcus finally asks what Zephanus thinks of his father; Zephanus admits he didn’t see much of him, since he was too junior to spend much time with the general, who gave orders to the Micaeline captain who then passed them on to the rest of them. But he thinks the general is intelligent, straightforward and driven, and if he’s more respected than liked, he thinks he prefers it that way. In other words, he sounds like an extremely generic military man, doesn’t he? Apparently, it’s quite different from the first general Zephanus served under, Nonius Messius, who loved the sound of his own voice and never stopped making elaborate speeches to the men (now I have known nobles very much like that… unfortunately). And apparently all the speeches were good for was putting the men to sleep, which is about what I would expect. Marcus’s father’s speeches, on the other hand, are blunt and to the point; apparently once his entire speech consisted of You can see that they’re over there… go kill them. Which seems to have the opposite problem (if the men are looking for inspiration, they certainly won’t find it here!), but Marcus is amused and thinks that definitely sounds like his father.
Calassara: *muttering* I could put General Valerius in contact with some well-regarded speechwriters, if he wishes. Anyway, Marcus remembers how his father wanted to bring him along on his most recent campaign, but his mother (I thought she was entirely uninterested in him?) tutor and uncle all intervened and encouraged Marcus towards the Church instead, which is what he really wanted. Though he has apparently begun wondering if he gave up an important opportunity in doing so… which is strange, because I don’t think Marcus has indicated the slightest desire to be a soldier so far? He then turns back to Zephanus and asks how he balances the demands of being a priest with those of being a soldier. Zephanus, however, senses what Marcus is really asking and tells him he’s not destined to be a Michaeline. Should St. Michael ever call you to his banner, you will know that call for what it is and you will have no such questions. Hmmm; put that way, these Michaelines seem more like paladins than anything – perhaps that is the intended comparison? Marcus doesn’t understand, so Zephanus explains.
“Of course you don’t. Have you ever seen purple whorls of sorcery spinning in the air as an archmage gathers his evil magic together? Have you seen the sky darken under a cloud of imps, sprites, and demons as an army of ahomum shake their spears and chant their guttural thick-tongued summonings? Can you see the aura of green, black, and gold that surrounds yonder elf?” Zephanus pointed to the shorter elf, the one wearing the sorcerer’s robes.
Errezha: Marcus says he can’t see any of that, and Zephanus explains that he can, whether he wants to or not. It’s called the Fifth Eye, which he says is not esoteric despite how it sounds (as the daughter of a diabolist, I certainly beg to differ!).
It’s merely a turn of phrase in honor of Saint Oculatus, whose birth name was Quintus Tullius. He was the first to be given the gift of the holy vision. His men were being slaughtered by elven archers hidden behind an invisibility spell, and when he cried out to God his prayer was answered and he was given the eyes to see behind the accursed veil. Haven’t you heard stories of some lad or other accused of witchcraft because he saw what his elders could not? Fortunately, the brotherhood keeps watch for such promising young men, and they usually manage to intervene before any harm is done.”
“Usually?”
“To be honest, I’ve never heard of anyone blessed with the Fifth Eye being burned. Saint Michael does protect his own. But then, one can’t be sure of what one doesn’t know.”
Errezha: Hmmm; well, it seems to me that if this ability really is inborn, that these men are closer to what we would call sorcerers in my world, born with a natural affinity for magic, and have merely convinced themselves that it is a divine gift instead. Or perhaps I am merely a cynic. Nonetheless, Zephanus goes on that he’s only ever heard of men and boys with this ability, and he doesn’t know what use it would be in a girl, who couldn’t go to war. *disgusted noise* Ah, yes. A society so sexist they cannot even conceive of a woman fighting, no matter how useful her abilities might be. Why, exactly, are we supposed to like Amorr again? Oh, yes, because it sounds unfortunately like Amorr’s many flaws are merely a reflection of things its author has actually espoused! But of course! Lodi, to his credit, interrupts to point out that elvesses fight, which I suppose means “elf-women.” Zephanus asks Lodi’s name, and Lodi makes it clear he doesn’t care what he’s called, but Marcus gives his name and adds that he’s a gladiator and now Marcus’s bodyguard, at least once he fully recovers. Zephanus is curious how a dwarven warrior of Lodi’s skill ended up in the arena in the first place, but Lodi refuses to elaborate. Ah, here we have someone who seems to share my contempt for all these people! How refreshing!
Calassara: Well, Zephanus goes on to explain that he’s too young to have fought the elves himself (I gather that Amorr had a war against the elves fairly recently, then? Which just further raises the question of how ignorant about them they seem to be…); apparently the elves captured two Amorran legionary standards, the only two that Amorr has ever lost and then was never able to recover! My, my – they’re not my people, exactly, but I suddenly feel quite proud of my distant kinfolk for so embarrassing the great “Republic”. Well done! Apparently, Marcus’s uncle hopes that the elves can be convinced to trade them back in return for the Church officially acknowledging they have souls, which… seems like something that should have been mentioned earlier? And one does have to love the rank confluence of religion and politics here! But Zephanus (after being reminded of who Marcus’s uncle is – he knows who Marcus’s father is, shouldn’t he have known already?) thinks that was actually a good idea. Apparently the Michaelines don’t care much for philosophical debates about the nature of souls, though sometimes our debates over who to kill first can last for hours! …I have no response to that.
Errezha: *muttering* I think these men sound far more bloodthirsty than anyone claiming to be “holy” has any right to! Marcus wonders if anyone here actually knows anything about fighting elves, or more than the year in which Saddranus fell to the orcs, a reference that goes entirely unexplained. Lodi might know more, but once again is refusing to say anything, and therefore remains my favorite character. Zephanus says they do have someone in their party who knows more and rides off, returning moments later with an older Michaeline with greying hair and a scarred forehead, which Marcus at first thinks looks like it came from his helmet and then decides it must have been from battle, in a comment that is possibly supposed to be funny? This is the Blessed Sir Claudius Serranus, Prince of Law help us. Marcus greets Serranus respectfully, clearly intimidated y a man who look like he had breakfasted on raw orc legs earlier that morning, and by all the Lords of the Nine, in this wretched world I have no idea if that’s figurative or literal!
Calassara: One hopes figurative, but with Beale writing, it really is hard to be sure… Serranus tells Marcus to call him by his name, notes how courteous he is, and hopes that you won’t forget to curtsey to King Caerwyn or such and get us all killed, eh? Well, if Marcus can figure out how to ask the king if he has a soul without mortally offending him, he is certainly welcome to try! Marcus just says he doesn’t want to fail the Sanctiff, and Serranus goes off on a tangent:
“Yes, I’m sure it’s fear of his displeasure that will make your bowels clench and the acid burn in the back of your throat when we reach the heights. Or when you stand in the place where the mountain meets the sky, darkness falls, and you hear the cries of the High King’s warhawks soaring unseen somewhere high above you.”
Calassara: Marcus admits he is afraid, which impresses Serranus, who thinks he’ll actually do well, and Zephanus breaks in to remind him that they want to discuss how elves go to war. Serranus thinks for a minute, admits he doesn’t have anything better to do, and agrees to share war stories if they’ll get him something to drink, which Marcus does, handing Serranus his wineskin. He opened it and expertly sprayed a stream of Valerian Primus into his mouth without wasting a single drop or further soiling the sweat-stained tunic that he wore open down to his chest. That… is a rather dramatic description of an old man drinking wine! Serranus compliments the wine, which is the Valerius family vintage, and Marcus tells him to keep the wineskin. Zephanus wants some too, but Serranus wants it all for himself and they banter a bit about it, before they finally get down to business. Serranus asks what the defining characteristic of elven armies is; Zephanus says archery (yet another stereotype…) because elven longbows have range and power the Amorrans just can’t match. Serranus thinks that’s true enough, but the elves’ real strength is something different, leaving Marcus to wrack his brain about every military treatise he’s ever read, trying to come up with the answer.
Errezha: *bored* Is it magic? That seems to be something the elves have that the Amorrans don’t! Marcus considers magic, but notes that even humans, like the Savondese, use magic the peril to their souls notwithstanding, so it’s not something unique to the elves. He then wonders if the elves have no infantry, which Zephanus thinks its stupid since plenty of elves fight on foot. But Marcus is getting at something more specific.
“No, I mean they don’t have any heavy infantry. We do, the Savonders do, the dwarves do, the orcs do, even the goblins do, if you think of how the orcs use them as auxiliaries on the wings when they’re not mounted. The Troll King doesn’t have anything but heavy infantry. But the only elves that wear proper armor are their lancers, and they’re mounted.”
Errezha: And Serranus says he’s right. And that, my dear young novices, tells you very nearly all you might possibly need to know about the elves—their cowardly tactics, their pernicious culture, their spiritual enervation, and their ultimate fate. More importantly, it also tells you how to kill them.” Oh, dear gods… *facepalms*
MG: Honestly, this just makes me think of VD Hanson’s The Western Way of War, which argues (yes, I’m oversimplifying) that “western” armies, beginning with Greek hoplites, are focused on heavy shock combat, particularly infantry and pitched battles, in contrast to “eastern” armies that focus on archers and skirmishers. Which, well, is not only pretty blatant orientalism (the Strong Manly Honorable West vs. the Treacherous, Cowardly East is… barely even subtext in this theory) but obviously isn’t true once you start getting into specifics of different military systems, and while Hanson’s early work on hoplites specifically was very influential, he’s kind of torpedoed his reputation in scholarly circles in recent decades by turning into an overtly partisan right-wing crank. But considering that’s the sort of intellectual stream Beale moves in, I would not be at all surprised if this specific contrast between Amorr and the elves wasn’t a direct reference to Hanson. Even if it’s not, it’s a pretty blatant parallel.
Calassara: …why doesn’t any of this surprise me? Serranus then goes on to explain (and the narration explicitly notes that if either of the elves with the party is listening, they give no sign… but then, I wouldn’t either, if I was there. If my enemies are running their mouths in earshot, best to let them). Serranus goes on that the orcs have many famous heavy infantry regiments, the Black Orcs, the Red Hand Slayers, the Ghinghis Mountain Bhoys. Bhoys?
MG: Since Beale’s orcs seem to be basically Warhammer orcs (Fantasy, not 40K) who are often called “boyz” with a z, it’s like Beale decided to go for the same thing and hit on something even dumber. “Black orcs” are also a thing in Warhammer Fantasy.
Calassara: …of course they are. Anyway, the orcs have lots of heavy infantry but little grasp of tactics beyond charging in headfirst. Zephanus thinks it’s because they’re stupid, but Marcus says that while orcs aren’t very bright (still racist, I see…) they can actually afford to risk their troops because they reproduce and grow to adulthood so fast – they replenish their numbers quickly, and indeed use constant warfare to keep their population under control. Elves, on the other hand, are long-lived and slow to reproduce – true – and therefore are loath to risk the lives of individual soldiers if they don’t have to. Thus, Serranus explains that while the orcs’ infantry is crude but effective, and no one else on Selenoth can match the dwarves in close combat, it is fear of losing their precious long lives that dictates the elves’ approach to warfare. This not only reveals a tactical weakness that can be exploited, but is also a cultural sign that speaks volumes about the state of their race. *flatly* Yes, we care about preserving the lives of our people. How terrible of us. And of course Serranus can’t resist continuing to be racist, with his explanation of why nobody fears goblin infantry.
“No one is afraid of goblin infantry,” Serranus said with a snort. “Nor should anyone be, unless they happen to outnumber you fifty to one. Fortunately, that doesn’t happen very often since the little rats take every chance they get to desert whatever orc chieftain has rounded them up to serve as front line fodder. So, Marcus Valerius, what does this tell you about Elebrion?”
Errezha: *snorts* I’ve been in a town facing a goblin raid. You know what happens to people who underestimate goblins? They get eaten by goblins. Don’t make the mistake of thinking they don’t know what they’re doing – they do. In any case, Marcus concludes that the elves fear death and only fight from afar, and likely have become highly decadent… amoral pleasure seekers…
MG: Just feeling a need to leave this link here for some reason… methinks Marcus (and possibly Beale himself) has fallen for a very old (and wrongheaded) literary and historical trope…
Errezha: Though Serranus thinks it’s more that the elves have simply given up hope as a race and are waiting to die. Which is… why their entire military system is based around preserving their lives… excuse me? And indeed, Marcus himself struggles to wrap his mind around fear of death that was born of an irresistible desire for extinction and wonders if the elves might want war with Amorr even more than the Amorrans do. And then Serranus makes it clear that if the elves are judged to lack souls, he will be more than happy to lead the genocide against them.
“I suggest it will be a mercy to put their cities to the torch and the remnants of their race to the sword. The High King will not lift his hand against us—not because he fears us, but because he desires what we can give him and his people in the same way that a mortally wounded soldier welcomes the last kiss of steel.”
Calassara: *stunned* I am familiar with the long histories of my own world; I have seen many justifications for war and genocide. But the idea that in committing genocide you are actually giving your victims what they secretly wanted all along may be a new one for me! I am legitimately horrified, and not only for my kinfolk in Selenoth. Are we actually supposed to like this monster?
MG: …I’d wait until we see what’s actually going on with Serranus before making that call, because he’s not exactly what he seems… but that we even have to consider it tells us something about Beale and his writing, doesn’t it? He’s certainly presented throughout this conversation as someone both Marcus and Zephanus should respect and take seriously!
Calassara: Calistria’s Sting! Anyway, Zephanus is not convinced, pointing out that while Serranus may claim the elves want to die so badly, he certainly didn’t get his scar shaving. Marcus, though, thinks that it’s been a hundred years since Amorr has gone to war with the elves (I had thought it was more recent than that, if Zephanus had to specify he was too young to have fought the elves? If he’s human, then of course he’s too young to have fought in a war a hundred years ago!) and so if Serranus fought the elves, he must have been fighting for someone other than the Senate and People of Amorr. But Serranus only laughs, and before he can answer everyone reaches a stream spanned by a stone bridge, and Sir Hezekius announces they’re stopping here to rest and water their horses. Marcus and Lodi dismount, both sore, and Marcus thinks about how it’s going to be a long ride to Elebrion as the chapter finally ends.
MG: First off, “Senate and People of Amorr” is clearly just a riff on the stock phrase “Senatus Populusque Romanus,” often abbreviated as SPQR, describing the Roman Republic. Which just makes me think of Bret Deveraux’s argument that the Roman Republic was fundamentally a power-sharing agreement between the Senate (composed of Rome’s highest elites) and the people (while the Principate in turn was a power-sharing agreement between the Senate and the Emperor with the people largely – not entirely, but largely – squeezed out). However, Amorr has a major power-center that the Roman Republic (where religion was ultimately under the aegis of the Senate) didn’t – namely, the Church, which might (if Beale was at all consistent) be the most important at all. So, it seems like “SPQA,” as a descriptor, may be missing out on someone rather significant…
This chapter… was a lot of talk. And talk, and talk, and yet more talk. While we do actually leave Amorr, finally, we don’t really get much of a sense of what the lands our protagonists are traveling through actually look like or what the Republic of Amorr is like outside its eponymous capital, because the whole thing is taken up with Marcus’s private musings and his conversations with Lodi and the Michaelines, which quickly becomes tedious and wears out its welcome. Not to mention that though we’ve left Amorr itself behind, we still haven’t left Amorran values and culture behind, with the chapter being full of discussion of slavery, casual racism and potential genocide, mixed in between various infodumps that mostly serve to make Marcus look ignorant more than anything. And Marcus himself remains a character I still dislike – his internal monologue remains pompous in the extreme, and his feelings of being out of place on this mission only serve to underscore that he is in fact out of place rather than making him more sympathetic. And so far, Zephanus just feels like an exposition machine, and Serranus is that plus being disturbingly pro-genocide. So that’s fun. Like Errezha, probably the only character I actually like at the moment is Lodi, if only because he, too, is clearly sick of dealing with these people.
Anyway, that’s all for today. Next time we have more journeying, more Serranus (urgh…) and one of the elves finally has a chance to speak his mind. We’ll see you then!
Warning: This post contains discussion of racism, slavery and genocide.
MG: Well, everyone, it’s time to continue our journey through Vox Day’s Summa Elvetica! Last time, Marcus reported to his uncle, purchased a bodyguard (uhhh…) and got a remarkably public sendoff from the Sanctiff on what had been, up to that point, a supposedly secret mission… and Amorr in general came across as a remarkably evil empire despite every indication being that Beale did not intend it to be read as such. Eeesh. Today, we actually begin our journey, as Marcus and his companions set off to see the elves…. But sadly, Marcus is no Sam Gamgee, Summa Elvetica is no LotR, and Beale, despite his pretensions, is no Tolkien. Joining us today will be Errezha and Calassara!
IA Q. VII A. I ARG. III
Errezha: …still not dignifying that.
Praeterea, ille Psalmographus Deum rogat, “quid est homo quoniam recordaris eius vel filius hominis quoniam visitas eum?” Responso huic quaestioni inquit, “minues eum paulo minus a Deo gloria et decore coronabis eum dabis ei potestatem super opera manuum tuarum cuncta posuisti sub pedibus eius;” Quo discernamus homines apud summam rerum corporearum subsistentium praestare. Ergo aelvi habent animae naturaliter sibi unita.
Calassara: *sighs* I trust all of this will make sense… eventually. Though maybe I’m giving “Vox Day” far too much credit. We open nearly an hour after the end of the previous chapter, which is apparently how long it’s taken Hezekius, the Michaeline commander, to extricate the party from the horde of well-wishing senators, cavalars, priests, and archbishops. Cavalars? Moving on! Apparently, it took Claudo’s sharp tongue to disperse the crowd, which I’m going to choose to interpret as him just insulting everybody until they all went home in disgust.
Marcus was relieved to see both Marcipor and Lodi waiting for him with the baggage train. It was bad enough to worry about holy wars and murderous merchants without having to contemplate months on the road without a friend or even a single change of clothing. Somehow he wasn’t surprised to see that Marcipor had talked the stablemaster into providing him with a rather better mount than human slaves were generally permitted.
Errezha: …why is it that no sooner has Marcus thought of Marcipor as a friend than the narrative goes out of its way to remind us that he’s actually a slave? In the hands of a better writer, there could be some symbolism to that – perhaps Marcus has convinced himself theirs is a relationship much more equal than it actually is, and he’ll have to confront that as the story goes on – but I don’t trust Beale to follow up on it. Lodi is apparently sitting awkwardly on his mule, though Marcus doesn’t say anything because he doesn’t want to bring up his injuries again… and he figures that if Lodi falls off, all the armor he’s wearing will make enough noise to alert everyone and the matter can be corrected. *disgusted face* Charming man. Anyway, Lodi bears his discomfort in stoic silence, and apparently some of the priests have tended his injuries and he looks like he’s on the path to make a swift recovery. Oh, goody, so he’ll be in top shape to fight for his masters once they reach the elven lands! I’m sure he’s just thrilled.
Marcus was fascinated by Lodi. The dwarf was a short but powerful creature, so similar to a man. For all his reading, Marcus knew very little of Lodi’s race, which had not endowed Selenoth with a written history or even a literature worthy of note.
There was, of course, the song of the great siege of Iron Mountain, an epic saga that had taken all Amorr by storm five or six years ago and had inspired the battle re-creation in which Lodi had been injured. But even that had been penned by a Savonder, and though it was supposed to be derived from the dwarven oral tradition, the scholarly consensus was that it was of questionable verisimilitude.
Calassara: *sniffs* Well, Marcus is both racist and condescending. What a lovely combination! And I’m sure Lodi is just thrilled that his people’s sagas inspired the match in which he nearly died for the amusement of his captors. But Marcus, fascinated or no, doesn’t dwell on the topic any longer, instead switching over to how large the traveling party is – Claudo is attended by two priests, six guards, and six slaves, and Father Aestus, appropriately more humble, has only two slaves (because nothing says “humility” like being a slave master…). The Michaeline warrior priests, in contrast, have neither slaves, servants nor squires and instead look after their own needs, and once out of sight of the city change from their vestments into more practical traveling garb. Marcus is impressed by their practicality and so, grudgingly, am I. How long do you think it will take Beale to ruin them?
Errezha: *muttering* Going by his record so far, not long at all… Marcus expects that the sight of the Michaelines and their swords will likely deter any bandits they might encounter on the way to Elebrion; Marcus and Macripor are armed as well (this society arms slaves? Though I suppose there are the gladiators, and the Redeemers last time, so perhaps it’s not that unusual…) though Macripor’s sword is fancy and more suitable for the theater than the battlefield (this is the second time the theater has been brought up in relation to Macripor… I wonder if this will be a trend?). Lodi, meanwhile, has two butcher’s axes but no battle-axe, as well as a crossbow…
MG: Which the Romans did have, primitive crossbows going back all the way to the Greeks iirc, though they weren’t very practical weapons because of their poor loading time and general unwieldiness, and the overall Roman preference for shock combat rather than ranged weapons. I believe the scholarly consensus is they were mostly used in sieges.
Errezha: …which Marcus indeed thinks looks like a siege weapon that the dwarf might be strong enough to wield by hand. We also get some further information about how Marcus is riding near the end of the procession, near the supply wagons, while the priests are riding in another wagon near the center. Beale, by the Prince of Laws this had better be important later on…
They rode for two hours through flat coastal plain on a road flanked by hills that gradually rose toward the horizon on either side. The land had been burned dry by the merciless summer sun. The hilltops were brown and treeless, and what vegetation managed to survive was mostly scrub brush. Every now and then in the distance they would see a gnarled tree standing alone, stubbornly digging its exposed roots into the soil, like an old, leather-skinned farmer refusing to abandon a family farm long gone fallow.
That pitiless sun was now rising toward its peak, and it was apparent to Marcus that he was not the only one getting bored with their slow progress over the roads. Even the dwellings they passed seemed lifeless—tall, narrow, stuccoed-stone structures painted in various shades of yellow that had long ago faded into a cheerless goldenrod.
Calassara: *conversationally* You might think it was comforting that our protagonist shares my boredom with the situation; funnily enough, it isn’t. Marcus wants to speak to Father Aestus to see if he has any advice for him about what the Sanctiff actually wants him to do on this mission (an excellent question!) but doesn’t dare approach Claudo to try and get Aestus away from him. He’s also left thinking about how the Sanctiff, despite recruiting him for this mission personally, gave him no servants and no letter or other signifier that Marcus is reporting directly to him, which combined with everything else is leaving him feeling rather superfluous on this whole venture. Which honestly seems like the first bit of real self-awareness we’ve seen from him. Maybe he can learn!
Errezha: …don’t bet on it. In any case, Marcus’s determination to prove himself leads us right into this:
How to do so? That was the challenge he faced, and with some dismay he began to realize how large the gap between potential and accomplishment appeared to be once one seriously contemplated that gap with an eye toward leaping it.
Even as a boy Marcus had dreamed of writing a text that would astonish the world with its brilliance. Heroes of the Coliseum were lauded one year and disregarded the next. Few could remember who been seated at on the consular thrones more than two or three years ago. Even generals accorded the signal honor of a Triumph were usually forgotten within a decade. Only the scholars—great scholars such as Augustinus, Oxonus, Depotapolis, and the Castrate—were granted the immortal gift of burning their memory into the minds of men.
Errezha: …I suppose it depends on the circles one moves in. But in my experience, while scholars may be remembered and honored by the educated, their names are not the ones on the lips of the masses, most often, so if it’s enduring public memory you want… He then starts musing pretentiously about how Claudo and Aestus started their great works from a blank page and how their first word was like a seed from which everything else grew. And yes, I suppose that’s true, as far as it goes, but presumably some research and contemplation went into their work before they started writing and they didn’t just vomit whatever nonsense was happening to pass through their heads onto the page… though from the overall state of Amorr, perhaps that’s more likely than I’d hope. Anyway, Marcus finally reaches the point that everything Claudo wrote about elves he based on human secondary sources that were generations out of date, since that’s the last time the elves allowed humans into their city – if Marcus can get access to elven texts, it could be what he needs to better Claudo’s work. Aha, there he gets it! A pity the journey there was far too long and pompous.
Calassara: And while I’m still uncertain as to exactly what Claudo’s treatise actually entailed (it really feels like we should learn that, since Marcus is supposed to mediate between him and Aestus?) I’m becoming increasingly certain the man doesn’t actually know what he’s talking about. But Marcus becomes increasingly convinced that if he can access the elven archives he can write a great work focused entirely on the elven people alone. It would be a second Summa, an Elvic Summa. A Summa Elvetica! And so, we have our title. Sadly, if this book is what Marcus produced… well, if it’s numbered among Amorr’s great literature, than the Republic’s cultural output is in a shabbier state than I’d thought! In any case, Marcus goes on to consider that unlike the Castrate he doesn’t have the intellectual reputation to have people simply accept his words as true; Perhaps his Summa could be in the form of a dialogue. No, too pretentious by far. Only an arrogant and supercilious soul like Depotapolis with his bent for mendacious manipulation would think that his carefully orchestrated playing of the two sides toward an inevitable, if not necessarily logical, end was a conclusive form of argument. Calistria’s Sting, that was a pretentious way to say that “people won’t find a scripted dialogue on this topic convincing, either!”
Errezha: Would you expect anything less from our dear friend Marcus? And so, Marcus considers that he needs to prove he can analyze things logically, and therefore he should start from the beginning. Which brings him back to the question of whether elves have souls. He reminds himself of how in the beginning, God created man and animals, but only mankind in his image (this religion really is remarkably humanocentric for something that exists in a world with numerous intelligent races – at least Chelish racism and human supremacism has the excuse of being rooted primarily in nationalism!). So, he wonders if elves are more akin to humans or animals. He thinks the former, but there were significant points to be made on either side. *she snorts loudly* Oh, like what? Elves look like humans; they speak and reason like humans, they, if they’re anything like the elves I know *shoots a meaningful look at Calassara*, have emotions like humans. What argument is there, exactly, that they’re animals? Is Marcus perhaps considering that elves are more like humanoid parrots, merely repeating back the words they hear without understanding? *glances sidelong at Calassara again* Well, certain elves of my acquaintance chatter enough to be parrots, but I don’t think that’s particularly convincing. And what of the dwarves, orcs, goblins and so on (I shudder to imagine what Beale would think of tieflings, though so far he’s given no sign of including anything like my kind in his world, which I shall take as a blessing in disguise) – elves and humans are not the only intelligent races in this world! What of their souls? *sighs* I’m becoming all the more convinced that the only reason this is an issue at all is that the Amorrans are incredibly racist… which just makes Amorr remind me all the more of Cheliax, in all the very worst ways.
Calassara: Anyway, Marcus is interrupted by one of the Michaelines suddenly asking him about his “interesting servant,” meaning Lodi. It takes a moment for Marcus to remember that the Michaeline’s name is Zephanus; Zephanus asks if Marcus doesn’t think the elves will object to Lodi’s presence (and flushes in embarrassment when it looks like one of the elves in their party overheard him). Marcus decides that the elf clearly doesn’t object to Lodi (after looking back at Macripor laughing and joking with some of the other Michaelines for some reason?) and Zephanus thinks that those long ears really do serve a purpose after all. Ah, lovely, more casual racism (but yes, having ears like this is quite lovely – far more sensible than the stubby little ones you humans have)! Marcus comments that all things serve a purpose, even if they don’t understand them, which causes the Michaeline to realize who he is; the Valerian who does not prefer war, since he’d apparently thought Macripor was Marcus and vice versa. Hmmm; a slave who is that easily mistaken for the master seems like it could lead to… complications, doesn’t it? Unless Magnus deliberately sent Marcipor along as a decoy? …which I wouldn’t put past him, unfortunately.
Errezha: Not that I expect Beale will do anything with that, of course. Apparently, Zephanus thinks Marcus is like his father, who doesn’t throw his weight around either (I don’t know – Marcus is certainly pompous enough!). It turns out that Zephanus served under Marcus’s father in a recent campaign against the goblins, though they were crushed easily and he clearly doesn’t think the goblin shamans were much of a challenge to the Michaelines’ talents. Marcus is also familiar with the campaign, since apparently his father is fond of writing letters mid-battle for some reason (which seems like an excellent way to get killed, far be it from this bastard hellspawn to lecture the great general in battle tactics). Though apparently one of the shamans conjured an illusion of a flash flood that could have been disastrous had the goblins properly taken advantage of it, which leaves Marcus troubled that his father could have come so close to defeat against so minor an enemy. Zephanus, however, assures Marcus that it wasn’t his father’s fault (of course not…) because nobody expected the goblins to have an illusionist, as that sort of subtle magic is more popular among human and elven sorcerers.
“I don’t know that I understand the distinction,” Marcus said. “My tutor, Father Aurelius, isn’t enthusiastic about us learning about magic of any kind, not even the battle magics. I’ve picked a few things up from my father’s tales or from a few historical accounts of the classic engagements, but I’m not even sure what the difference between an illusionist and a shaman is.”
Calassara: Well, at least where we’re from, a shaman deals with spirits while an illusionist is a kind of wizard who conjures false images and deceives the senses – it seems fairly self-evident to me! Zephanus agrees that if Marcus’s tutor is a priest, he probably wouldn’t want to talk much about magic. Your average priestling has no need of such information. It would serve no purpose to dangle the evils of a fallen world in front of young minds being honed for the higher purpose. But you, on the other hand, on this journey are going to be surrounded by enchanters, illusionists, sorcerers, and even archmages in a matter of weeks. So before you offend the wrong elf, it might behoove you to have some idea of which ones are capable of turning you into a turnip and which ones aren’t. *flatly* That does seem like quite the gap in Marcus’s education, doesn’t it?
MG: And the thing is… sure, the Amorrans don’t trust magic and don’t really practice it, and it’s clear the Church doesn’t approve of it. But this is still a setting where magic is real and works and the elves, Savondir (Amorr’s main human rival) and even the orcs and goblins all have their own mages and regularly field them. And the Church does have its own dedicated order of mage-fighters – that’s what the Michaelines even are. And Marcus is a noble scion from a society where, like the historical Roman Republic, such men are expected to follow a career path that will involve both war and politics (because senior elected officials are also the ones who’ll be commanding armies, generally speaking) and if they don’t do that they’ll probably go to the Church instead, in a society where the Church also has a lot of influence over policy and strategy. So, uh, leaving someone like Marcus so ignorant he can’t even tell the difference between an illusionist and a shaman when he might, like his own father, someday have to make important snap decisions that depend on being aware of the difference seems like a pretty huge oversight. And maybe the idea is that Amorr has deliberately blinkered itself by blind adherence to dogma… but that doesn’t really feel to me like where Beale is going.
Errezha: *groans and facepalms* Marcus says he doesn’t need to worry, but maybe Macripor could stand to learn this so he doesn’t offend the wrong person and get turned into a turnip, ha, ha. Zephanus thinks Macripor might be more useful that way, and need I remind everyone that this is two free men joking about a slave? Because that does feel notable. Marcus finally asks what Zephanus thinks of his father; Zephanus admits he didn’t see much of him, since he was too junior to spend much time with the general, who gave orders to the Micaeline captain who then passed them on to the rest of them. But he thinks the general is intelligent, straightforward and driven, and if he’s more respected than liked, he thinks he prefers it that way. In other words, he sounds like an extremely generic military man, doesn’t he? Apparently, it’s quite different from the first general Zephanus served under, Nonius Messius, who loved the sound of his own voice and never stopped making elaborate speeches to the men (now I have known nobles very much like that… unfortunately). And apparently all the speeches were good for was putting the men to sleep, which is about what I would expect. Marcus’s father’s speeches, on the other hand, are blunt and to the point; apparently once his entire speech consisted of You can see that they’re over there… go kill them. Which seems to have the opposite problem (if the men are looking for inspiration, they certainly won’t find it here!), but Marcus is amused and thinks that definitely sounds like his father.
Calassara: *muttering* I could put General Valerius in contact with some well-regarded speechwriters, if he wishes. Anyway, Marcus remembers how his father wanted to bring him along on his most recent campaign, but his mother (I thought she was entirely uninterested in him?) tutor and uncle all intervened and encouraged Marcus towards the Church instead, which is what he really wanted. Though he has apparently begun wondering if he gave up an important opportunity in doing so… which is strange, because I don’t think Marcus has indicated the slightest desire to be a soldier so far? He then turns back to Zephanus and asks how he balances the demands of being a priest with those of being a soldier. Zephanus, however, senses what Marcus is really asking and tells him he’s not destined to be a Michaeline. Should St. Michael ever call you to his banner, you will know that call for what it is and you will have no such questions. Hmmm; put that way, these Michaelines seem more like paladins than anything – perhaps that is the intended comparison? Marcus doesn’t understand, so Zephanus explains.
“Of course you don’t. Have you ever seen purple whorls of sorcery spinning in the air as an archmage gathers his evil magic together? Have you seen the sky darken under a cloud of imps, sprites, and demons as an army of ahomum shake their spears and chant their guttural thick-tongued summonings? Can you see the aura of green, black, and gold that surrounds yonder elf?” Zephanus pointed to the shorter elf, the one wearing the sorcerer’s robes.
Errezha: Marcus says he can’t see any of that, and Zephanus explains that he can, whether he wants to or not. It’s called the Fifth Eye, which he says is not esoteric despite how it sounds (as the daughter of a diabolist, I certainly beg to differ!).
It’s merely a turn of phrase in honor of Saint Oculatus, whose birth name was Quintus Tullius. He was the first to be given the gift of the holy vision. His men were being slaughtered by elven archers hidden behind an invisibility spell, and when he cried out to God his prayer was answered and he was given the eyes to see behind the accursed veil. Haven’t you heard stories of some lad or other accused of witchcraft because he saw what his elders could not? Fortunately, the brotherhood keeps watch for such promising young men, and they usually manage to intervene before any harm is done.”
“Usually?”
“To be honest, I’ve never heard of anyone blessed with the Fifth Eye being burned. Saint Michael does protect his own. But then, one can’t be sure of what one doesn’t know.”
Errezha: Hmmm; well, it seems to me that if this ability really is inborn, that these men are closer to what we would call sorcerers in my world, born with a natural affinity for magic, and have merely convinced themselves that it is a divine gift instead. Or perhaps I am merely a cynic. Nonetheless, Zephanus goes on that he’s only ever heard of men and boys with this ability, and he doesn’t know what use it would be in a girl, who couldn’t go to war. *disgusted noise* Ah, yes. A society so sexist they cannot even conceive of a woman fighting, no matter how useful her abilities might be. Why, exactly, are we supposed to like Amorr again? Oh, yes, because it sounds unfortunately like Amorr’s many flaws are merely a reflection of things its author has actually espoused! But of course! Lodi, to his credit, interrupts to point out that elvesses fight, which I suppose means “elf-women.” Zephanus asks Lodi’s name, and Lodi makes it clear he doesn’t care what he’s called, but Marcus gives his name and adds that he’s a gladiator and now Marcus’s bodyguard, at least once he fully recovers. Zephanus is curious how a dwarven warrior of Lodi’s skill ended up in the arena in the first place, but Lodi refuses to elaborate. Ah, here we have someone who seems to share my contempt for all these people! How refreshing!
Calassara: Well, Zephanus goes on to explain that he’s too young to have fought the elves himself (I gather that Amorr had a war against the elves fairly recently, then? Which just further raises the question of how ignorant about them they seem to be…); apparently the elves captured two Amorran legionary standards, the only two that Amorr has ever lost and then was never able to recover! My, my – they’re not my people, exactly, but I suddenly feel quite proud of my distant kinfolk for so embarrassing the great “Republic”. Well done! Apparently, Marcus’s uncle hopes that the elves can be convinced to trade them back in return for the Church officially acknowledging they have souls, which… seems like something that should have been mentioned earlier? And one does have to love the rank confluence of religion and politics here! But Zephanus (after being reminded of who Marcus’s uncle is – he knows who Marcus’s father is, shouldn’t he have known already?) thinks that was actually a good idea. Apparently the Michaelines don’t care much for philosophical debates about the nature of souls, though sometimes our debates over who to kill first can last for hours! …I have no response to that.
Errezha: *muttering* I think these men sound far more bloodthirsty than anyone claiming to be “holy” has any right to! Marcus wonders if anyone here actually knows anything about fighting elves, or more than the year in which Saddranus fell to the orcs, a reference that goes entirely unexplained. Lodi might know more, but once again is refusing to say anything, and therefore remains my favorite character. Zephanus says they do have someone in their party who knows more and rides off, returning moments later with an older Michaeline with greying hair and a scarred forehead, which Marcus at first thinks looks like it came from his helmet and then decides it must have been from battle, in a comment that is possibly supposed to be funny? This is the Blessed Sir Claudius Serranus, Prince of Law help us. Marcus greets Serranus respectfully, clearly intimidated y a man who look like he had breakfasted on raw orc legs earlier that morning, and by all the Lords of the Nine, in this wretched world I have no idea if that’s figurative or literal!
Calassara: One hopes figurative, but with Beale writing, it really is hard to be sure… Serranus tells Marcus to call him by his name, notes how courteous he is, and hopes that you won’t forget to curtsey to King Caerwyn or such and get us all killed, eh? Well, if Marcus can figure out how to ask the king if he has a soul without mortally offending him, he is certainly welcome to try! Marcus just says he doesn’t want to fail the Sanctiff, and Serranus goes off on a tangent:
“Yes, I’m sure it’s fear of his displeasure that will make your bowels clench and the acid burn in the back of your throat when we reach the heights. Or when you stand in the place where the mountain meets the sky, darkness falls, and you hear the cries of the High King’s warhawks soaring unseen somewhere high above you.”
Calassara: Marcus admits he is afraid, which impresses Serranus, who thinks he’ll actually do well, and Zephanus breaks in to remind him that they want to discuss how elves go to war. Serranus thinks for a minute, admits he doesn’t have anything better to do, and agrees to share war stories if they’ll get him something to drink, which Marcus does, handing Serranus his wineskin. He opened it and expertly sprayed a stream of Valerian Primus into his mouth without wasting a single drop or further soiling the sweat-stained tunic that he wore open down to his chest. That… is a rather dramatic description of an old man drinking wine! Serranus compliments the wine, which is the Valerius family vintage, and Marcus tells him to keep the wineskin. Zephanus wants some too, but Serranus wants it all for himself and they banter a bit about it, before they finally get down to business. Serranus asks what the defining characteristic of elven armies is; Zephanus says archery (yet another stereotype…) because elven longbows have range and power the Amorrans just can’t match. Serranus thinks that’s true enough, but the elves’ real strength is something different, leaving Marcus to wrack his brain about every military treatise he’s ever read, trying to come up with the answer.
Errezha: *bored* Is it magic? That seems to be something the elves have that the Amorrans don’t! Marcus considers magic, but notes that even humans, like the Savondese, use magic the peril to their souls notwithstanding, so it’s not something unique to the elves. He then wonders if the elves have no infantry, which Zephanus thinks its stupid since plenty of elves fight on foot. But Marcus is getting at something more specific.
“No, I mean they don’t have any heavy infantry. We do, the Savonders do, the dwarves do, the orcs do, even the goblins do, if you think of how the orcs use them as auxiliaries on the wings when they’re not mounted. The Troll King doesn’t have anything but heavy infantry. But the only elves that wear proper armor are their lancers, and they’re mounted.”
Errezha: And Serranus says he’s right. And that, my dear young novices, tells you very nearly all you might possibly need to know about the elves—their cowardly tactics, their pernicious culture, their spiritual enervation, and their ultimate fate. More importantly, it also tells you how to kill them.” Oh, dear gods… *facepalms*
MG: Honestly, this just makes me think of VD Hanson’s The Western Way of War, which argues (yes, I’m oversimplifying) that “western” armies, beginning with Greek hoplites, are focused on heavy shock combat, particularly infantry and pitched battles, in contrast to “eastern” armies that focus on archers and skirmishers. Which, well, is not only pretty blatant orientalism (the Strong Manly Honorable West vs. the Treacherous, Cowardly East is… barely even subtext in this theory) but obviously isn’t true once you start getting into specifics of different military systems, and while Hanson’s early work on hoplites specifically was very influential, he’s kind of torpedoed his reputation in scholarly circles in recent decades by turning into an overtly partisan right-wing crank. But considering that’s the sort of intellectual stream Beale moves in, I would not be at all surprised if this specific contrast between Amorr and the elves wasn’t a direct reference to Hanson. Even if it’s not, it’s a pretty blatant parallel.
Calassara: …why doesn’t any of this surprise me? Serranus then goes on to explain (and the narration explicitly notes that if either of the elves with the party is listening, they give no sign… but then, I wouldn’t either, if I was there. If my enemies are running their mouths in earshot, best to let them). Serranus goes on that the orcs have many famous heavy infantry regiments, the Black Orcs, the Red Hand Slayers, the Ghinghis Mountain Bhoys. Bhoys?
MG: Since Beale’s orcs seem to be basically Warhammer orcs (Fantasy, not 40K) who are often called “boyz” with a z, it’s like Beale decided to go for the same thing and hit on something even dumber. “Black orcs” are also a thing in Warhammer Fantasy.
Calassara: …of course they are. Anyway, the orcs have lots of heavy infantry but little grasp of tactics beyond charging in headfirst. Zephanus thinks it’s because they’re stupid, but Marcus says that while orcs aren’t very bright (still racist, I see…) they can actually afford to risk their troops because they reproduce and grow to adulthood so fast – they replenish their numbers quickly, and indeed use constant warfare to keep their population under control. Elves, on the other hand, are long-lived and slow to reproduce – true – and therefore are loath to risk the lives of individual soldiers if they don’t have to. Thus, Serranus explains that while the orcs’ infantry is crude but effective, and no one else on Selenoth can match the dwarves in close combat, it is fear of losing their precious long lives that dictates the elves’ approach to warfare. This not only reveals a tactical weakness that can be exploited, but is also a cultural sign that speaks volumes about the state of their race. *flatly* Yes, we care about preserving the lives of our people. How terrible of us. And of course Serranus can’t resist continuing to be racist, with his explanation of why nobody fears goblin infantry.
“No one is afraid of goblin infantry,” Serranus said with a snort. “Nor should anyone be, unless they happen to outnumber you fifty to one. Fortunately, that doesn’t happen very often since the little rats take every chance they get to desert whatever orc chieftain has rounded them up to serve as front line fodder. So, Marcus Valerius, what does this tell you about Elebrion?”
Errezha: *snorts* I’ve been in a town facing a goblin raid. You know what happens to people who underestimate goblins? They get eaten by goblins. Don’t make the mistake of thinking they don’t know what they’re doing – they do. In any case, Marcus concludes that the elves fear death and only fight from afar, and likely have become highly decadent… amoral pleasure seekers…
MG: Just feeling a need to leave this link here for some reason… methinks Marcus (and possibly Beale himself) has fallen for a very old (and wrongheaded) literary and historical trope…
Errezha: Though Serranus thinks it’s more that the elves have simply given up hope as a race and are waiting to die. Which is… why their entire military system is based around preserving their lives… excuse me? And indeed, Marcus himself struggles to wrap his mind around fear of death that was born of an irresistible desire for extinction and wonders if the elves might want war with Amorr even more than the Amorrans do. And then Serranus makes it clear that if the elves are judged to lack souls, he will be more than happy to lead the genocide against them.
“I suggest it will be a mercy to put their cities to the torch and the remnants of their race to the sword. The High King will not lift his hand against us—not because he fears us, but because he desires what we can give him and his people in the same way that a mortally wounded soldier welcomes the last kiss of steel.”
Calassara: *stunned* I am familiar with the long histories of my own world; I have seen many justifications for war and genocide. But the idea that in committing genocide you are actually giving your victims what they secretly wanted all along may be a new one for me! I am legitimately horrified, and not only for my kinfolk in Selenoth. Are we actually supposed to like this monster?
MG: …I’d wait until we see what’s actually going on with Serranus before making that call, because he’s not exactly what he seems… but that we even have to consider it tells us something about Beale and his writing, doesn’t it? He’s certainly presented throughout this conversation as someone both Marcus and Zephanus should respect and take seriously!
Calassara: Calistria’s Sting! Anyway, Zephanus is not convinced, pointing out that while Serranus may claim the elves want to die so badly, he certainly didn’t get his scar shaving. Marcus, though, thinks that it’s been a hundred years since Amorr has gone to war with the elves (I had thought it was more recent than that, if Zephanus had to specify he was too young to have fought the elves? If he’s human, then of course he’s too young to have fought in a war a hundred years ago!) and so if Serranus fought the elves, he must have been fighting for someone other than the Senate and People of Amorr. But Serranus only laughs, and before he can answer everyone reaches a stream spanned by a stone bridge, and Sir Hezekius announces they’re stopping here to rest and water their horses. Marcus and Lodi dismount, both sore, and Marcus thinks about how it’s going to be a long ride to Elebrion as the chapter finally ends.
MG: First off, “Senate and People of Amorr” is clearly just a riff on the stock phrase “Senatus Populusque Romanus,” often abbreviated as SPQR, describing the Roman Republic. Which just makes me think of Bret Deveraux’s argument that the Roman Republic was fundamentally a power-sharing agreement between the Senate (composed of Rome’s highest elites) and the people (while the Principate in turn was a power-sharing agreement between the Senate and the Emperor with the people largely – not entirely, but largely – squeezed out). However, Amorr has a major power-center that the Roman Republic (where religion was ultimately under the aegis of the Senate) didn’t – namely, the Church, which might (if Beale was at all consistent) be the most important at all. So, it seems like “SPQA,” as a descriptor, may be missing out on someone rather significant…
This chapter… was a lot of talk. And talk, and talk, and yet more talk. While we do actually leave Amorr, finally, we don’t really get much of a sense of what the lands our protagonists are traveling through actually look like or what the Republic of Amorr is like outside its eponymous capital, because the whole thing is taken up with Marcus’s private musings and his conversations with Lodi and the Michaelines, which quickly becomes tedious and wears out its welcome. Not to mention that though we’ve left Amorr itself behind, we still haven’t left Amorran values and culture behind, with the chapter being full of discussion of slavery, casual racism and potential genocide, mixed in between various infodumps that mostly serve to make Marcus look ignorant more than anything. And Marcus himself remains a character I still dislike – his internal monologue remains pompous in the extreme, and his feelings of being out of place on this mission only serve to underscore that he is in fact out of place rather than making him more sympathetic. And so far, Zephanus just feels like an exposition machine, and Serranus is that plus being disturbingly pro-genocide. So that’s fun. Like Errezha, probably the only character I actually like at the moment is Lodi, if only because he, too, is clearly sick of dealing with these people.
Anyway, that’s all for today. Next time we have more journeying, more Serranus (urgh…) and one of the elves finally has a chance to speak his mind. We’ll see you then!
