Ma’tallon Part Two: A Further Look

Click here for Part 1: Ma’tallon – Geography

Click here for Part 3: Ma’tallon: A City Touches the Sky

Lyrnaela’s defense works were tested at least once after Kalduuhnean independence, but the queen is best remembered for the comprehensive reworking of Gathran’s codex of laws. As her sages delved deep into the Empire’s demise, they already witnessed the same happening to their hometown. Ma’tallon grew in spurts, her population spilling over past the recently established walls where laws mattered as little as hygiene. This misery was out of sight for the wealthy and powerful who dwelled beyond the massive walls. The slum’s stench and violence went unnoticed by many.

Lyrnaela did notice the misery and the nobles’ complacency. This time the rulers were not thousands of uncaring miles away, instead they resided but a stone’s throw away. If this trend continued, Lyrnaela knew, Gathran’s fate would become their own. At that time Kalduuhn was still nominally a part of a shrinking Gathran, but House Kassor had enough influence and independence to act well before the final split.

But how to make the rich and powerful care?

The answer came to her whilst watching her daughters at play: they had constructed a tower of wooden bricks, and as this tower grew higher (Or so we are told. ~K) the foundation began to wobble and finally break apart due to the weight resting upon it. The foundation of any realm were the rich and powerful, not necessarily because their status allowed them more insight, but because they had the means to change things for everyone. And like the blocks of wood at the foundation at her daughters’ tower, Ma’tallon’s powerful stood separate.

In her memoirs Lyrnaela mentions that she briefly considered breaking up the nobles and rich families to spread their wealth evenly among the people, but she decided against it. “People are mostly fools,” she wrote. “The majority would spend themselves into poverty, only thinking of their momentary pleasure, without ever giving a second thought to the wellbeing of the whole.”

It was a keep observation which only the most idealistic and naïve would ever dismiss. Yet something had to be done.

She decreed that none may live outside the walls. Ma’tallon’s limits were to remain as is in perpetuity. The next step was moving the outsiders into the city limit. Nobles and powerful had to surrender gardens and surplus houses to the flood of poor. They did so, grudgingly. But as more Gathrani fled the Provinces, the influx of newcomers soon had Ma’tallon bursting at the stony seams.

Again, the Queen mentions her daughters’ playtime inspiring her:

The children played hometown, she writes. (Hometown appears to be a noble’s version of house building. ~K) Apparently, Ma’tallon was the inspiration for this particular game. They must have eavesdropped on some of the meetings, for they repeated our musings word-for-word as they discussed how to keep the people from butchering each other for more room to live. Their solution was so childlike, so brilliant, so ingenious that for a while I watched them, dumbstruck. Using logs from the fireplace (A frivolous and useless luxury. Then again, isn’t every luxury essentially useless and frivolous? ~K) they placed them near each of the city wall’s corners and built a second layer above. I sent for Kaer, my chief builder, immediately. When she entered the study, I signaled her to remain quiet and waved her over. Her whispered inquiry as to why I summoned her I answered by pointing at the girls at play. ‘Ma’tallon’ I whispered. Her eyes grew wide.

Liarnna, my youngest and brightest, asked a poignant question: ‘But what of all the shit and pee? Are they supposed to…’ she paused, frowning. Then she said, ‘Stairs are stupid, we need those things they use for building materials, lifts, cranes, whatever they’re called.’ Beside me, Kaer gasped. Thankfully she remained quiet. ‘This way they don’t have to walk stairs,’ Liarnna said. ‘That still doesn’t solve the toilet problem.’

My eldest, Lurtha, had the answer: ‘Sewers underneath the platforms.’ And Liarnna grinned. ‘Pipes.’

Kaer slapped her forehead. ‘Of course, pipes.’

When she heard that especially her ideas were to be implemented, Liarnna practically demanded to be part of the project. In addition to her school work, she became apprenticed to Kaer, and ultimately replaced her as my chief builder. She never had aspirations for ruling anything but a drawing board and the drawings of marvels she would build.

This may be a romanticized version of what really happened, but in essence it seems to be true. Lyrnaela did have a chief builder named Kaer who was succeeded by Liarnna, her youngest daughter.

Ma’tallon grew, upward. Some of the oldest steeloaks were felled in Gathran Forest, and their trunks delivered to Ma’tallon. Lyrnaela also raised a new tax for more steeloak planks to be purchased from Honas Graigh. Trunks were like pillars, holding up a latticework of planks that slowly became a solid floor upon which houses could be built. Inspired by the mage-operated lifts of Breiamhbéo, several of those were installed in addition to circular staircases around the steeloak pillars.

And, of course, as soon as this roof blocked Lesganagh’s light, the wealthy and the noble began to complain. They had borne the requisitioning of their homes and taxes without complaint but now they were mutinous. Lyrnaela gifted each of them with a plot of land in the Province’s most beautiful region and agreed to have Kaer design each of them a holiday home away from the city. She, of course, did not tell them when the master builder would do this work. Apparently it took another decade before the work on that first platform was finished, and the entire thing shored up against wind. Over the centuries, as Ma’tallon’s population grew so did the tower-like structure.

At first, the nobles and wealthy were upset, lamenting the loss of natural light. Many tried to buy property on the higher levels, wanting to leave the shadows for the masses. But Lyrnaela had other plans.

Over the decade of construction, she, the Justiciar of Lliania and some of Lady Justice’s Upholders and a small army of sages pored over the history of Gathran’s decline. They realized that complacency, willful ignorance, greed, and arrogant entitlement were the key elements of the Empire’s slow demise. Caught in a loop of misery and the inability to see and admit one’s own mistakes, the Mages of Gathran had crippled the once powerful realm.

This had to be avoided at all costs. And if the wealthy and noble were unable to learn history’s lessons by themselves, the Law had to enforce these lessons all the same. Justiciar Vunla coined it perfectly: “If you break the law, the law will break you. Sure, petty theft isn’t as bad as corruption; we need to eliminate the reasons that cause people to go hungry, greedy landowners being chief among them.”

“We, the privileged, must dwell in the people’s shadow, them being a constant reminder for us to care for them, lest they come crashing down.”

The chroniclers outside Honas Graigh who wrote about the waning days of Gathran, had romantic notions about the entire affair, proclaiming it was a matter so harmonious and serene that a flock of birds rose to the sky as Vunla spoke. As good an omen as any, or so we’re led to believe. Truth is, while Vunla was one of Lliania’s most devout followers, he also enjoyed the bit of blood sport a well-choreographed execution brought. As with most things, the Kalduuhni had adopted the Gathrani tradition of gladiatorial games for the criminals sentenced to death, and of course he had a big interest in seeing his favorite pastime continued.

Kalduuhn’s future Queen, also a proponent for directed violence, (Like pretty much all elves. ~K) was reportedly still dwelling on how to assign new living quarters, when the Justiciar mused about it. She conferred with one of the Librarians when her Justiciar said the infamous line of the law breaking the lawbreaker, when she had an idea.

Now, it may well be that Cingrib, the Lady of Mischief, planted the thought inside Lady Kassor’s head, because it was so outlandish that the assembled lawmen and sages all stopped what they were doing and just stared at her.

“The nobles and wealthy, and all the temples, stay on the ground,” she said. “This will be our Àite-coinneachaidh, in the shadow of the common folk. From here we will debate, judge, and rule. We build a sewer system of pipes to lead into the existing sewers, and we pump water to that new layer, and any other layer that will be built in the future. Ma’tallon will grow in height, not in width; there’ll be lifts, and heated stones for warmth and cooking in the buildings. Can’t have open flame up there. And if the pipes get leaky, the nobility will be reminded to care for those less fortunate, if they don’t want shit dripping on their heads.”

“And what if they leave the city behind?” on sage asked.

The future Queen had an answer for them. “Nobles and wealthy must live in Ma’tallon for three quarters of the year. If they break that law, they will be hunted through the streets by riders and speared down for the amusement of the common folk. We will cull those who work against the well-being of the entire province.”

These may well be embellished words, but the message remained all the same. The Law of Consequence was born that night, and it has been enforced by the Knights of Kalduuhn for well over two thousand years.

One would think that the nobles and wealthy of Ma’tallon had learned from the Cullings, which happen in unfortunate regularity. But for every ten folks who actually learned the lessons of the past there are one or two who think they can outsmart the system. At one point, centuries later, the grandmother of the current Queen, Ikeni, decreed that the offender’s immediate family had to suffer the same fate. Cullings grew into a new form of spectacle.