Flirting With the Tempest by A.R.K. Horton

Author:A.R.K. Horton
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: A.R.K. Horton

Chapter Eleven

Serenchea stank. There was no better way to describe it because it stank in every possible way. Terald wondered how people could live there. He felt so excited when Queen Esamne sent him there on his current mission. He heard marvelous things over the years about the technological advances. They supplied most of Telverin with cheap textiles made from their world-famous factories.

He didn't know what he had been expecting, but this wasn't it. The unnatural yellow-grey sky hung heavy with the scent of sulfur, which clung to his nostrils and the taste of rotten eggs sat on his tongue. Grey slabs of buildings lined the streets, each indecipherable from the others. The people seemed just as lifeless, shifting in lines from one anonymous door to another when an ominous bell rang. The steam plumed and rolled through the streets, giving Terald the sensation of having perspired through his clothing.

All of this alone was enough to make Terald hate Serenchea. However, the more he learned about his temporary home, the more it made Pescel seem like a true paradise in comparison. He always wondered why the factories never became popular in other countries. Why didn't Pescel just make its own textiles or mass produce products to sell to other countries? For many years, he thought it might be possible to bring so many Pesceleans out of poverty if they could copy what Serenchea was doing.

It never occurred to Terald that the real reason they could sell textiles for such a cheap price wasn't because of how efficient their steam-powered factories were. The ruling class here bonded every worker in servitude. Some came here to pay penalties for crimes. Some were simply born here as slaves, punished for the misdeeds of generations before them. Serenchea replaced its soul with a steam-powered factory. He realized now why Lady Pleffort left and why she refused to even speak of her experience there.

During his time in this country, he came to know the power players. After all, the queen of an affluent country had sent him here. No compassion shined from their eyes, which matched the cruel, sadistic lines acting as their joyless mouths. Despite wearing lavish outfits made from their cheap fabrics, nothing could make their sallow skin any more attractive. He wondered how none of them could see how tawdry they looked. Then again, none of them seemed to notice the smell either. Perhaps, when you've lived your entire life in a place like this, you become inured to its unpleasantness.

They held dances and feasts to celebrate anything. They could afford to since it didn't cost much to give their workers a cot and two meals of gruel a day. Still, he listened to them complain without end. They called their slaves lazy. They wondered what they could threaten them with to speed up production and make even more money.

"What more could you possibly take away?!" Terald wanted to yell, but he stayed silent to observe them.

He was supposed to meet one of the deceased Lord Pleffort's contacts at a party like this.

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