Family Business 11: The Refugees

Welcome back to Family Business, a story commissioned by Kejmur. As always, thank you for reading, and I hope you all enjoy this particular chapter.

-VB-

Family Business
Chapter 11: The Refugees

-VB-

“You want me to invite Ionian refugees into my city?” I asked Sona, who nodded meekly.

Because of how long she’s been with me and have studied with me the ins and outs of Demacian culture to help her advance her newly developing music career, Sona knew exactly what she was asking.

One, Demacians were not xenophobic but they were definitely not xenophilic.

Two, Demacians abhorred magic but Ionian cultures, regardless of where you lived in Ionia, venerated the spirits, which was taken as magic by Demacians.

Three, just because people migrated or fled elsewhere didn’t mean that they would abandon their homeland’s culture in exchange for their new land’s culture. No, it was the opposite of that; they tended to stick together because it was what they were familiar with, and familiarity bred comfort.

I wasn’t xenophobic, either. If I was, then I wouldn’t be thinking about reforming Demacia. You can’t reform anything without some new blood, after all. I also would not be fucking Sona, which would be a shame however I sliced it.

The point was, if I did as Sona asked - as the situation currently was - without regard for the reality of the situation, then I would invite instability, if not from the refugees themselves, then from the reactionaries who didn’t like their way of life being “invaded.”

Of course, no one would complain about the city and county accepting very small trickles of immigrants.

But that’s the next point, wasn’t it?

“Has the conflict in Ionia gotten that worse?” I asked Sona, who nodded. My girl continued to keep an ear out for news from her homeland, far more than I did. I trusted her when she said Ionia continued to suffer.

I thought that was an odd thing, though. In canon, the Ionia-Noxus war ended years before Lux reached maturity. This was what happened in this timeline as well, but the core difference was that Noxus employed “third party perpetrators” to keep Ionia weak. Raiders and looters frequented the islands’ coasts from the Noxian conquered portion of the Bahrl island.

“How many are looking to settle?”

I knew that Sona and whoever she was working with on the side for Ionian refugees were keeping people somewhere on Demacia. If I refused to house them, then they would go elsewhere.

“{Two hundred,}” she spoke through the thrum of her instrument and magic.

I closed my eyes. “That’s a lot.”

“{I’m sorry to ask you this.}”

Jorasmang City was the main population center of the county, and held barely a little over seventeen thousand and six hundred souls. To add two hundred would mean more than a percent boost in total population. It would be very noticeable. Demacians within the city will see magic-loving heathens in their neighborhood.

I also couldn’t move them out into the countryside. One of the first reforms I have done was land distribution, and except for a small patch of land I rented out personally from my own holdings, all other lands have already been given away. Moving refugees into these lands would be begging for discrimination to happen on top of discontent of the rural residents for having to house the refugees who neither spoke nor wrote Demacian language.

If I put them in the city, then my magic-friendly education and “bread-and-circus” acts would cushion the incoming population, at the very least.

Then I paused.

I turned to look at Sona. “How many Vastayans?”

She flinched.

“Sona?” I asked warily.

“{Almost all of them.}”

“Why here?” I asked tiredly.

“{I’m sorry, my dear. It’s the only place in all of Demacia without the scrutiny of the larger population and where there’s enough spirit and magic to support them.}”

I dropped my head onto the table in front of me with a loud thunk. “Of course, my own projects come back to bite me in the ass.”

The project in question was Project Manasphere, where I aimed to encourage and increase the number of local natural born mages of Demacian blood. With my magic-friendly propaganda and their own flesh and blood gaining magic, I hoped to turn Jorasmang City into a bastion and harbor for magic users in Demacia.

To that end, I saturated the area with mana.

I seriously saturated the area like enough for magic-dependent species to survive without issue.

I pulled myself up, turned to Sona who flinched, and then grasped her hands in mine.

“Sona, I will accept these refugees on one condition.”

“{Yes?}”

“No more for the next three years.”

She hesitated and then nodded. She glanced to the side before pushing herself up to me and giving me a peck on the cheek. “{Thank you.}”

“I kind of expected this in the first place,” I replied with a smile as I allowed my head to gently fall onto her shoulder. “The things I do for you.”

“{And Lux?}”

“And Lux.”

-VB-

Outside the walls of Jorasmang City and in a forest no more than a quarter of a day’s journey from the city, I met the refugees with Sona and Lux by my side.

Between the oak, maple, and cypress trees, the leader of the refugees walked out, nervous and tired. They were as dirty as they were tired, grime, soot, and dirt, but the one in front of me also had war paint underneath it all.

“You are?” I asked with a raised eyebrow at the way she held a machete-like blade in the sheath. Unless she was fast enough to cross a hundred yards in a single pounce, she wasn’t going to be fast enough nor strong enough for that matter, considering that all of my “outdoor” clothes were reinforced with high quality steel fiber weave and enchanted by yours truly.

But if it made her feel safer, then I would let her.

“I Delilah, am.”

I blinked. Oh, she didn’t know Demacian, did she? She was speaking in the Ionian way of speech, whose syntax went subject-object-verb. I smiled and switched to Ionian for her sake. “Pleased to meet you, Delilah. I am Count Marris Crownguard, lord of the Jorasmang County.”

Her eyes widened at my nearly-fluent Ioninan, and then widened further as she realized what kind of station I held. She immediately dropped to her knees and kowtowed.

I blinked and looked at Sona. I noticed Lux being flabbergasted as well.

“Explain, please?”

“{She was of the Yharna tribe from Fae’lor. When the island fell, her tribe found itself dispersed. Many were enslaved by the Noxians. They have a strict hierarchy, as you can see.}”

I nodded. “You don’t have to bow so low. I am not as insecure as to demand such things.”

Delilah hesitantly stood back up, not minding the dirt on her elbows and knees. “I did not expect our friend to be so high up in the Demacian nobility.”

I smirked. “Outside of myself and my sister here, my family is in charge of being the bodyguards to the royal family. I might technically have a higher rank than my older brother, but it’s not quite right.”

Her eyes bugged out before she turned to Sona. Her mouth opened up into a “how?!”

Sona smiled before pulling my left arm from my side and hugging. “{This is my man.}”

Delilah’s jaws moved up and down but no sound came out. “... Thank you,” she finally spoke up after a while. “For meeting us like this nonetheless.”

I waved it off with my free hand. “It’s quite alright. I was curious to see who I would be accepting into my city, that’s all.”

“You mean…?”

“My love here convinced me to accept you all…. But I have few conditions.”

Delilah gulped. “Name them, my lord.”

“First, Demacians are wary of magic. I demand that all of you do not use magic except in self-defense or in the defense of others.”

She blinked.

“Second,” I continued. “Try to make friends with my people, yes?”

“Of course, my lord. Such generous-”

I stopped her with a raise of my hand. “As I said before, it’s quite alright.”

With that, we left the forest. My personal retinue waiting outside the forest saluted when they saw me come out safe and sound. I waved at them to be at rest, and then turned to the captain of my man-at-arms. “Sergeant Hyas.”

A bulky man stepped forward, standing at six foot ten inches and decked out in steel chestplate, leather abdomen guard, leather shoulderguards, steel greaves, and steel shin guards.

“My lord,” he spoke without moving his wide jaws and thin lips much.

“See to it that the Ionian refugees make it without being harassed and safely to the Amantar Borough. The local administrator should be aware of their coming.”

“I shall carry out your orders to the best of my abilities, my lord. Do not worry.”

I smiled. I knew he would. He and his family came to my land, starving and ragged. I saved his eldest son from near death with my magic, gave all his children education, housed them, and gave him a fulfilling job. I knew I could trust him to follow my orders not just to the letter but the spirit as well, no matter how distasteful he might personally find it.

He probably didn’t, not after magic saving his once-ill son.

“Then I’ll be on my way,” I said as I walked my two women over to the carriage we took to here, helped them on, and got on myself. “Keep up the good work.”

All of my man-at-arms saluted as we drove away.

I relaxed once the carriage got moving.

Yes, the core of my future army was starting to build up.

A decade? Two? It doesn’t matter. I’ll be there eventually. Just give me that perfect opportunity, world. Give me a royalty’s death at the hands of others.

As disruptive as they may be in the short term, vastayan soldiers in the future would be a great boon for me when the time to overthrow the current regime came.

Yes, things were progressing well...