Tanya's Third Life as a Barbarian Queen, Chapter XXX

I will have the chapter as links to download at the bottom of the post. As well as a link to the Google Document page.

Kontia

Tanya, Queen of the Tanaoi

The streets of Kontia quickly filled with almost the entire host of Lepores at the news of the newborn boy, an incredulous act of insubordination that had necessitated me giving direct orders via magically enhanced shouting that everyone was to return to their posts.

We had an entire legion approaching and that had somehow been forgotten in the excitement. Regardless, the thousands were quickly returned to the outermost defensive perimeter after a judicial use of threats of flogging and the occasional actual flogging. However the streets remained packed as many cadets or non-combatant lepores found any excuse to remain in the city and I struggled to find excuses to clear the streets.

Eventually I had to arrange for wine and beer to be delivered to an area outside of the city as well as more drinks to be delivered to the women who had been sent back to the fort line. I had intended to have some sort of morale boosting effort before engaging the Ninth Legion and this was as good an excuse as I was going to get.

With the city no longer filled to bursting and causing unrest amongst the occupied people of Kontia, I had time to reach the Palace and address the mother with her newborn. 

I beheld a woman roughly the same height as me with a familiar, fiery red mane of hair that cascaded down her back. It had quickly become clear just why Vera, the prospective queen of the Mora, and several other well respected members of the Mora had arrived at the palace. Vera herself had become a common fixture of the slow process of reconstructing some form of collective governance over the various tribes that had come to me for protection.

She had been diligent and an effective bridge between myself and the Mora, and at times had aided in working with other tribes who did not have an obvious representative or who were currently in the throes of a power struggle.

Setting aside the frustrating reality that many people saw the invasion and near destruction of our people as a way of gaining power, I listened to the excited redhead talk about her baby.

She cradled the boy, a wide smile, a permanent fixture on her face as she showed the mewling babe off. All the while an older woman with one of her arms terminating at the wrist cradled what I understood to be the boy's twin sister.

The older woman was one of the many wounded or elderly Lepus who struggled to find cliques to join or work in general when they were no longer fit enough for fighting, crafts or driving cattle. Some would have friends that would provide for them but it was a fact of life that economic dependence would often sour friendships, such is true for every race.

If one was old or crippled without anyone who would provide for them they often took in promising young children, advising and training them, and in return the children would often provide for them. With my establishment of the squad system wherein children were assigned a squad at a young age I had also inadvertently destroyed this apprenticeship style relationship.

It was also expected that a tribe would honour old wounded warriors with food and shelter, but it was not uncommon for such women to find that without the vigor of youth they were largely unwanted, so they would wander into the steppe alone and that would be the end of them. I had only found out about this happening in mass to the Tanaoi elderly well after my reform had been implemented.

I had quickly established institutions for the cripples and the elderly to get work assignments, such as officially teaching children for a wage. It had ended the abhorrent wave of effective suicides but had put a large strain on the Tanaoi coffers. It hardly mattered now of course as my people were effectively in a state of total war and any and all resources we could acquire were being directly requisitioned for the war effort.

But it would become an issue as I transitioned back into a more reasonable, and less volatile, economic model. 

I set aside my anxiety about the future and looked at the Mora woman as Vera walked up to her, eyes shining as she looked at the tiny boy wrapped in a blanket from the palace. Upon giving birth the Mora woman had, apparently, run through the streets of Kontia naked proclaiming that she had a boy. Leaving the twin sister to her elderly midwife.

It was a truly baffling display as while the mortality rate for the Lepus during childbirth was negligible, that did not mean that bringing children into the world was easy or painless. I certainly would not have dreamed of going on a jog through a city moments afterwards!

While I had been very frustrated at the chaos such an event had on the defence of the city, I had to confess that the boy and his sister were charming despite the whines and screams belted out of powerful newborn lungs. Both even had a small amount of the characteristic Mora bright red hair on their heads.

“He is Mora.” The old midwife said sharply as I smiled down at the boy in his mothers arms. I turned to regard her for a moment before I inclined my head.

“That he is.” I acknowledged, well aware of the trepidation in the gathered Mora people. The air stilled somewhat and even the babies began to quiet down as wetnurses were brought forwards. The silence was broken when one of the atrium’s doors opened and a procession of men in full out-clothes that obscured their features made their way into the room. Led by Furea as the first husband and, at his side, my father, as the Patriarch of the Tanaoi. 

Following the pair, came my other husbands, after them was the only teenage boy of the Tanaoi and another boy of just eleven years. Traditionally even he would have joined my harem or had been provided to one of my supporters to reward good service, but I had delayed that until they were of a more reasonable age. Too much contention.

Behind them was a much younger boy, eyes wide as he looked about the room and the many people present, likely more than he had seen in a single room for his entire life. At his age it was acceptable for him to be in just a simple cotton tunic with leggings and his full face and arms exposed.

The entire population of males for the Tanaoi tribe entered the room as Mora and Tanaoi representatives shifted uncomfortably in place. There was no real precedent here beyond the fact that it was to be expected that boys were to be raised by the men of any given tribe. Without an understanding as to how this was meant to work out, it had led to an awkward atmosphere where no one was quite sure how they should be acting.

I also doubted that Vera would know how this was normally meant to go.

I stepped towards Vera and linked our arms together as I directed us to the mother of the boy. Vera seemed to freeze for a moment but followed my movements as I inclined my head to the woman.

“You have brought a precious thing into the world and have honoured all of the Lepus.” I glanced at Vera who looked panicked for a moment before speaking.

“And honour to the Mora.” She said quickly. Before joining me as I respectfully inclined my head for the woman. The mother seemed to preen at the attention as my father stepped forwards.

“In the place of the Mora’s mothers mark we can grant you the mothers mark of the Tanaoi.” His voice was soft, relaxed and confident. There were some murmurs from the people watching but no one spoke up.

“I would of course, considering the situation, recognise a marked mother of the Mora as I would a mother of the Tanaoi.” My words seemed to dissipate some of the tension as the situation was considered, but a few looked to be more upset at my attempt to reassure the woman.

“And my son?” She asked, my fathers eyes flicked to me for a moment as he paused.

“I can do it.” Art spoke from behind Furea. The normally shy man speaking up. “I know the markings of the Mora, the working of the sigil. I can provide it to you and the boy.” He explained.

“Have you practiced the markings of the Mora even once?!” The Mora midwife questioned Art, who flinched at the woman's words but shook his head.

“I have studied the works of all the major tribes.” He explained.

“I can attest to Art’s capabilities. He has my full confidence in his abilities.” I intoned and many of the Mora looked conflicted.

“Then I shall trust in him too.” The Mother resolved. “I would seek to carry the markings of the Mora regardless. Even if worked by Tanaoi hands.” With that it seemed, the issue was resolved.

A chair was brought out, a table with an ink flecked and sparkling with potent magic. Needles, chisels, small bones and many other tools required for the binding of symbols and power into skin and body.

I confess that I had little respect for Tattoos. I have largely considered them evidence of criminality or a dismal lack of impulse control. I did not consider them to be worthwhile in even a cultural context. That might be in part to the culture of my first life, but it was a sensible culture.

I had, of course, received my tattoo shortly after I was born in this life. I was presented to the Queen at the time as a potential pureblood, the men of the tribe were gathered and a spell cast to identify my parentage. Then a copy of the tattoo on my fathers forehead was carved into my skin. It had been incredibly uncomfortable, made worse by how the marking was, in part, magical and I had yet to fully understand in what way. 

There was simply no record made about what the magic imbued into the tattoos did. All the tribes simply carved magic sigils into babies because that was what they had always done. The men only studied, and thus recorded, how to apply the markings, not what they did.

At least the mother was an adult, she could choose if she wanted. 

The children were, for the time being, taken to a different room. And many of the people who had gathered were sent away while Art worked.

I remained, as did Vera and a handful of others. None commented as Art removed his face coverings and began to clean the Mora woman’s face and soon the only sound that filled the room was the quiet tapping of tools as skin was broken many hundreds of times. Now and then, Art would pause to wipe away blood or to change his implement or to apply more of the enchanted ink. 

The men of the Tanaoi helped him as he worked, even the youngest well versed in what needed to be done. I did not know how much time had passed but eventually Art carefully began to dab the work and I knew full well what was coming. So too, it seemed did the mother in question who had hardly flinched during the entire process.

Art quickly placed a leather strap into the woman’s mouth which she gladly accepted before she tensed.

Rather than Art, it was my father who placed a hand to the newly inscribed skin and whispered some words. A verbal incantation of a spell that he, merely for my appreciation of the art of spellmaking, had refused to teach me. 

In an instant the ink in the woman's skin burned like it was alight. She squirmed in place, grasping her seat and biting down on the strap as the marking became a permanent affixture of her body. I could not help but feel sympathetic to the woman. She had not long given birth and now her face was on fire. I well knew the pain of both, even if my tattoo marking me as a pureblood was not on my face. 

Slowly the light faded and she was provided a waterskin with a strong and rich wine to help her relax after her ordeal. Many of the Mora representatives came to inspect Art’s work and were forced to admit he had performed flawlessly. The markings were not only a display of prestige but also identification. She was and would forever more be entitled to shelter and succor from the Queen of any tribe.

Some of the tribes took this to mean that such women were entitled to far more than I found acceptable. If she pushed her luck I would have to have a word with her.

I struggled not to grind my teeth as the boy was brought back into the room, his sister having been sent to a creche during the mothers marking at my request as it became clear that her mother had little interest in the baby. As the table was prepared for the boy and the men of the Tanaoi began to quietly discuss between them the process, I stepped forwards as many of the Mora seemed to sturr but did not speak out against me. I reached down and pressed my thumb into the pudgy little boy's hand, suppressing a smile as he grasped me with a firm grip. 

I felt my breath catch in my throat as the tiny thing opened his eyes and looked up at me for just a moment. I felt his grip tighten as the healthy boy looked about the strange world he had found himself in with shining emerald eyes.

My father caught my eye as he frowned at me, knowing well what I was doing but decided better than to challenge me on this. After a moment I looked away from the boy and towards Art and nodded at him to continue.

He gave me an odd smile as he set about his task.

While most people would resist a spell directly cast upon them, even subconsciously, babies obviously were very lacking in that sort of defence. The baby did not have the means to resist as I created a formula to redirect any pain the newborn felt as needles were driven into his skin. While magic did not function like electricity or matter, it did have rules, the metaphorical pain had to go somewhere but it was trivial to endure it in the place of the boy.

The tattoo for the boy was much simpler than the one for the mother. While her tattoo began at her brow and reached to her neck and shoulder for the boy it was merely the markings of the Mora tribe itself, without any of the embellishments a Lepus male would make to their markings to help identify their children later on. 

Soon the markings were done, the fire ignited and I grit my teeth until it was done, the tradition seen to. That the boy did not so much as whimper at the truly agonising procedure seemed to cause a sturr in the gathered Mora but the Tanaoi gathered knew well how distasteful I found the pain inflicted in the practice.

“You took away the pain?” The mother asked, frowning as she looked at her son with the Mora mark upon his forehead.

“Just for the moment.” I assured her in case she was worried about any long term effects of what I had done. “Enduring pain for its own sake is meaningless.” I said simply and got to my feet. 

“You didn't do it for me.” The woman complained. With an incredible amount of self control I neglected to respond to that.

“Do you have a name for the boy?” I inquired. It was not uncommon for a parent to provide their children to the tribe without a name and to have the child be named by the tribe later or decide upon their own name when they are old enough.

“Moray.” She said after a moment, many of her tribe nodded in appreciation of the choice in name. I inclined my head as I noticed Furea noting down the name.

“A fine name.” I offered. “If it is acceptable to your tribe, I would have the boy fostered by the men of the Tanaoi until such a time as men of the Mora can take him into their care.” I looked about and there looked to be some trepidation but no open protest.

With that, the mother held her son for the last time before the boy was taken by my father and the other men of the Tanaoi. With her face now fully marked, she was presented to a crowd outside of the palace and the atmosphere quickly turned electric with cheering and celebration breaking out across the city. I deployed many of my officers to make sure that nothing got too out of hand with permission granted to offer beatings if it did.

Discipline could not be compromised with an enemy force close at hand, even if it was likely to have some effect on morale. 

------------------------------------

And now we are at the end of the pre battle chapters. Took a lot to get here I can't wait!

https://docs.google.com/document/d/1jJhnk5nLxpoIGoj6zAc-l3bFBQNuSgw0Wj9Bfo_U/edit?usp=sharing

Edited by: Y1