NOVEL NEXT V11: Chapter 14
V11: Chapter 14
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2000 words added by Chaosbrain
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Interlude: Khanrow
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I sought out the young Champion and his fellows and found them.
They left behind trails for those who sought them out.
A somewhat foolish move, if not for the fact that we were watched every step of the way.
Upon reaching the site, it was obvious that they had abandoned their hideaway, and only the young man remained along with a few of his companions. Looking around the camouflaged hovels, many with slits in them for guns to peek out from, it was easy to determine that it may have been salvation for many, but it was also designed to be death for pursuers.
The fact that this young man would become a mercenary under the Guardians was an irksome thought.
"Hail, I come bearing news and an offer that can be freely rejected." I had come with two guards. Both were Iterants. If the meeting went sour, their instructions were to run with me in tow. Their immense strength and speed would allow them to pull me away from conflict with ease. "If you would hear me out, I'll say my piece before leaving."
The towering Champion had his weapon sheathed, and such was also the case for his guards. If he were sitting down, I could see him as some sort of warlord. Perhaps if he were born three decades earlier, he'd have made a name for himself as one.
Not today, however.
"The forces of your king and the Guardians will soon be here. We intend to be gone along with all those who must come to our aid." The young man's voice was a low rumble. It was hard to believe that he could roar with such strength that he could shatter eardrums. He had let one loose after the women were recovered. A few guards needed to be healed and carefully paid off to keep their silence. Many were willing to accept being smuggled out of the nation as payment with just what they could carry, however. "What are his intentions towards us?"
"Refugees are to be received by the Guardians of the Moon. We have nothing to do with them." There were plenty of Merchants in our lands. Many were former tribal peoples that we imprisoned after defeating the Death Lord so long ago. After being freed and turned into citizenry, they were taking advantage of our existing support system for growing our population. They were the fastest-growing population in our lands. Not counting Iterants, of course. "We are not lacking in any of the Merchant bloodlines. Refugees, former prisoners of war, and immigrants provide more than enough."
"Not being needed means that anything could be done to us and the King of Wisdom will do nothing." He did not say it, but by not simply accepting my words regarding the Guardians of the Moon, it was clear his gaze was set upon our lands.
Though I would have liked him as another Champion amongst our ranks, I looked at him now as a potential threat.
Becoming a mercenary and working for the Guardians was a simple route.
Becoming a lord amongst the Guardians would make him a future foe.
Aiming to join us?
It meant this young man had ambition, or that he had ill intentions that could only be achieved amongst our ranks.
"You are not his people. Why should he?" I answered his statement easily and met his gaze. Which was it, then? Ambition or an insidious plot? Hm. Maybe, perhaps, he even simply wanted a better life for his people. "Much has been taken and forced upon you, young man. I won't deny that. But it would be foolish of you to believe that you could have our help without something in return."
"Let us hear of the opportunity that you came here to present, then. I would see if it can be done to secure the King of Wisdom's aid." The young man must have carefully practiced and learned how to negotiate since I first met him. He latched onto my earlier words to try and attach them to his new demands. The reward he sought was now loosely tied to my offer. An offer he hadn't heard from yet. The risk could outstrip the reward, but he took his chance. A Merchant, despite his upbringing. "What do you require of us?"
Require of us.
I almost chuckled at his blatant insinuation that we needed them.
"Let us begin with the news first. The Merchants have been infiltrated by an outside force. Demons. The offer is mending of bodies and pleasure in exchange for worship and followers." I looked over my shoulder, and the bag came forward. The head of a demon rolled out as it was thrown to the ground. Red of skin, horned, and brimming with power even in death. "One of the reasons we planned to attack this land first was because it was slowly being infiltrated. In a year's time, they would have set up the means to allow an invasion force through from across the world into this land's heart."
Such were Jack's suspicions. A land so rife with poverty and despair were easy targets. Though the Demons did not border this land, they could have heard of it in any town. After realizing that those who stayed in our lands died, while the Forgers and Wardens isolated themselves and the Guardians kept their people content, there was no other place for them to go but here. I searched for them, found them in the process of starting their cults, and stopped them.
Could they have made such a ritual?
I did not know, because I never allowed them to get that far.
"Search your people. Have them cut a fingertip for you. Our Merchant people report that their blood smells more heavily of iron and fire, just like that head right there. They may be amongst those who you've received." Refugees heading our way were already being searched, but with their infrastructure, this rebel group had more than a few hundred people supporting them. "They take the guise of healers sometimes, and they infect those who they help to become their servants. At first, it is a mere compulsion to listen, but with time it becomes the compulsion to obey, then the inability to disobey."
"…We will keep an eye on such matters." The young man answered evenly, but he shifted his weight from side to side. His companions were easier to read, but I ignored them. The reactions of subordinates were rarely useful. Only fools would have subordinates that were easy to read present, or masterminds who wished to lay traps. Ignorance to them was the best defense. "The deal, spymaster?"
"A secret army built by the Merchants in secret from the output of the Merchant Citadel. Replicas of ancient war vehicles. A thousand in number, armed with cannons and heavily armored. It is their final gambit in this war." The other Iterant with me went forward and produced the sketches of the weapons that we found. They were scattered in multiple warehouses across a multitude of towns. A hundred groups of ten. They trained in expansive warehouses that obfuscated their size by having facades of hovels surrounding them. Easy to spot, if you knew what you were looking for, but also very easy for one's eyes to simply glance past. "With our current forces, we have the ability to seize a tenth of their number. We wish for them all."
Jack's order was to 'get as many as possible.'
Then, he permitted me to ask for anything related to achieving that goal.
He would be satisfied with a hundred or so, but with such trust and the Iterants watching me, there was truly only one answer.
Attempt to get them all.
"You would have us trade the nation's strength for our freedom, then. How will the Guardians of the Moon react to this when they will be taking their lands and assets?" The young champion haplessly brought the Guardians into the conversation. He only realized his mistake when I shrugged at his statement. "Have you no fear that this will break your alliance with them while your king is surrounded by their armies?"
"If he dies, then we destroy them and all our foes in reprisal. We will lose our chance to be victorious against the coming threats. All we will be able to do is survive… but that's an adequate price in exchange for our king's death." No other answer would've placated the Iterants with me. However, I was also telling the young man the truth. The King of Wisdom's death will drive our nation mad. The amount of blood that will be spilled after that would drench the whole continent in destruction and death. "If they ask, we will give them several. Though I imagine that these weapons will be best used against the Forgers, as they were initially intended."
"So, your desire is to acquire these weapons through us. A thousand armored weapons with weapons that can put cities under siege and break the Forger's defenses." The young Champion's gaze was resolute. "Even free passage in your lands and citizenry for over two thousand people will not suffice."
"How about a town, then? A land you can call your own, as we have done for the Children of the Elm, Conquerors, Forgers, and Wardens. There will be limits, of course, but you will be able to create your own home." Two thousand. A trifling number. We could move that many people across the continent in a single night after a week's preparation. After all these years, taking in people, processing refugees, and clearing prisoners of war, our nation knew how to handle influxes of people into our lands. "If you so desire, the changes forced upon you can also be removed in our Citadels. You may choose normal lives."
"…Does that offer extend to our mothers?"
Ah, there it is.
I was tempted to leverage his sudden meekness, but I decided against it.
"The Citadels prioritize soldiers. Veterans and those wounded in combat. However, we have more than enough space in our Citadels to care for all our people." The true answer was more complex. We had a system that spread physicians, healers, herbalists, and their ilk all over our nation in every town. Whatever they could not care for was dealt with by places of care adjoining our universities, where the finest minds learned and treated at the same time. Those they could not treat humanely were given to the Citadel. The women we retrieved most certainly required such treatment. "If they desire, we can even remove their memories."
Morgan published her discoveries regarding the mind years ago to much acclaim and fear. My agents and spies found it extremely useful, but in the medical field, it was useful for overcoming terror born from trauma. If someone desired, they could enter a Citadel pod after the treatment and emerge remembering nothing of the horrors they experienced in war. They would be able to return to civilian life with only the fruits of their labors.
And, of course, the enhancements provided to them via alchemical concoctions and ancient serums were removed.
You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.
The young Champion was silent for minutes before he spoke again.
"Have it written and signed, spymaster, and grant me two copies as well as the original."
I almost scoffed at the absurdity of his request, as I could fulfill them all with ease, but recalled that this young man was born to the Merchants.
He needed the assurance.
So, I would give it to him.
It was a small price to pay for me, but to him and his fellows it was as though we promised them paradise itself.
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The Merchant capital region was a polluted, exploited wreck.
The rivers going through the marshes were filled with trash and stained black with chemicals. Some of them were on fire and giving off a constant stream of smoke. The marshlands were covered by landfill, and wherever there was oil to be exploited, there were extraction sites with rudimentary oil wells present. A polluted fog hung low and dense to the ground, and just walking through it made layers of detritus gather on clothing.
Good thing we had masks as standard issue, and basic magic training included producing wind.
Since we had some power to spare, though, I had my mages clear out the fog to ensure that our lines of fire weren't obstructed.
Didn't look like we'd need it, though.
"The city is already burning." Celia observed. She and her officers stayed nice, so they were allowed to stay at the command center. We even gave them access to our messengers. Some people hemmed and hawed, but there were perks to being a king. I just told them to coordinate with the Guardians and they did. That was the end of the matter. "Did you have a hand in that?"
"I have agents operating in the region. I believe that they have partnered with a few of a rebelling cell and smuggled in some weaponry." I used the largest telescope on the bridge. The outside districts looked pillaged, and there was fighting on the streets. The outer walls were abandoned. However, the inner districts within the Citadel walls looked untouched. More importantly, they had a lot of Guardians arrayed on the walls. "As we expected, they have all the constructs that they can produce protecting them now."
"Our own are replenished, and our limits have increased to a higher threshold. Those will be of little consequence." Yeah, that was the bad part of losing an ally or getting betrayed after 'sharing' Citadels to get the rank ups. Citadel Guardians were the best counter to themselves. They just smashed into each other and took each other out, leaving regular fighting between your troops and your former ally's. In this case, it was the Merchants vs. the Guardians and myself. It was a hysterically lopsided battle. I loved it. "We will only ask for your long-range assistance. The city should be taken by us."
"I agree, but there's a timetable to keep. The Forgers are regaining their balance, especially since we can't push our Guardians into their lands." My Guardians were still constrained to my four Citadel regions. I could push into Celia's lands with them, and if I betrayed them, the Guardians of the Moon were going to fight to the death. Losing them and their developed districts this far into the game would be handing the continent on a silver platter to the crises, so I stayed my hand. They were smart enough to hold their industry and people hostage. "Three weeks. That's the most that I can promise you before we move in to strike with all that we have."
"My officers tell me that it will take at least two months. Are your forces against the Forgers that desperate?" Celia must've taken a few points in diplomacy. Unfortunately for her, I've been clinging to that stat like a madman since I got my first Citadel. Outside of resting, working, and eating, I've done nothing but practice speaking and debating for nearly twenty years. Ma'am, you're out of your league. "Can they not hold for two months?"
"They cannot hold for two months without taking unacceptable losses. They can, however, ravage and destroy much of the Forger's lands while they can only watch." Celia's brow furrowed at my words before she realized what I was saying. My forces aren't trained for holding positions. Those are for the militia or the recently drafted trainees. "I hold them back now because I would rather you take lands that can be easily re-tooled for war. If you cannot take this Citadel in three weeks, if you would not have me sacrifice thousands of veterans prior to the most terrible conflict against the Ancient's remaining enemies, then I must let them loose in your future lands."
A scowl flitted across her face. I hoped that she got the implications. If she wanted her two-month timetable, then I was going to ravage lands that were slated to go under her control. While the Forgers kept military industry and other important facilities in their underground capital, they had plenty of light industry, agriculture, mining sites, and more strewn across their lands. Seizing those improved tiles right away would be a massive boost to her income, especially since the merchants have over-exploited their lands and could only really provide one-time influxes that would need to go back into fixing their fuck-ups.
Celia needed those lands mostly intact.
If they weren't, if she needed to rebuild all those improvements due to my army's actions, then their financial situation was going to become strained.
Obviously, it's not ideal to have a near-empty treasury with a war against the rest of the world looming on the horizon.
Celia stared at me for a long time.
"What can I offer in exchange for your people to hold the line against the Forgers?"
And, she asked the question I knew she'd ask.
She was a noble vampire who would, of course, ask what honors and wealth she could give me for me to ask my troops to die.
She was a leader who would take half the continent and would know the importance of getting lands that were not ravaged and destroyed by my forces.
She was not strong enough to defeat her enemies in the timeline that I gave her.
Most importantly, though, she didn't have a good enough intelligence network to know whether the three-week period I gave her was bullshit or not.
"A favor, then. As a sign of our alliance until our people are secure and safe from the rest of the world. You will get your two months. All I ask is a favor and acknowledgement of the blood my people shed for you to take this Citadel on your own." I stated, and Celia grimaced but gave a nod. "Very well, that shall suffice. Use that against any detractors towards our cause."
"I would have those who die because of this request be honored. A memorial will be made for them, if you permit it." Celia offered, and I did my best to look surprised. It must have worked, as irritation came upon her features. "They may not be my people, but I am asking them to perish for my nation. That deserves something."
"Hm." I made a show of considering it, but I already made my choice. A memorial with too few names would detract from our alliance. "No. They die by my orders and mine alone. If you wish to honor them, ensure the success of your conquest of the Merchants, Forgers, and Wardens."
Celia obviously wanted to argue in favor of her war memorial, but I put on as serious of a mask as I could manage. Completely calm with dead and cold eyes. The sort of look a caught psychopathic serial killer makes in movies or TV dramas. It was to let Celia know that her offer was completely unacceptable to me. At the very least, I hoped that was being conveyed.
Her mouth clamped shut, and I took that as my cue to take my leave.
A little gesture to Ayah had one of my planted Iterants call for my attention and exit stage right.
Dragging out the conversation would just make things awkward, so I decided to just withdraw with my spoils.
Now, I just needed to obfuscate how many casualties we took against the Forgers while keeping as many veteran troops alive as possible.
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Interlude: Rita
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Morgan laughed at the new order that came via courier from our king.
"Eight steps ahead, as always. Rita, give the order to have our troops' rotations shortened and for minor injuries to be worthy of being ferried home." I nodded at her words while composing the question as to why in my head. Morgan, however, was pleased enough to explain while I conveyed the message. "His majesty has said that we need to showcase how many casualties we're taking holding the Forgers back. He wants it to be clear that we're spilling blood for this alliance."
The lighthearted, gleeful explanation silenced my questions and left me only with appreciative shock.
"I hadn't even considered the necessity of it." I told her. "But it seems obvious now."
Blood spilled together for the same cause bound people together.
"Neither did I." Morgan's smile was almost infectious as she leaned back and teetered on her chair. She took well to his majesty's old, modular office brought in via transport. It had all the facilities needed for leading an army while maintaining the station of his majesty. She took to the command post like royalty herself and looked natural in his place. Even if she couldn't do the same as him. "We reduce our casualties, grant the green troops more experience, and the Guardians will respect us for our sacrifice."
"We are calling upon the recently drafted? I thought it would be a few more months before the first batch was completed."
"Conqueror trainers singled out those with potential. Individuals ahead of the pack. They separated them to prevent dissatisfaction from the rest. Accelerated their training. Some are to be officers. Others for more… specialized operations." Morgan's insinuation was clear. Iterants were going to be our main blade against the rest of the world, but we still had need for specialist troops. "More than a few were going to 'wash out' and go on to form mercenary companies for any skirmishes that might occur in the future, but we can make use of them now."
"Will they not be needed in the future?" I asked. I only had limited knowledge of the plan to use mercenaries for internal conflicts in the future. As far as I knew, they were to be assets that could be called upon to work for us through an intermediary, but without direct connection. Typical mercenary work that could even be found in the past age, some would say, but scaled up thanks to the firepower granted by firearms. Not to mention training, education, and alchemical concoctions. Any mercenary of today would have been considered amongst the elites just thirty years ago. "The number of soldiers we will need in the most generous projections…"
I trailed off.
Morgan was more aware of such things than I was.
A hum left her lips, and she contemplated my question.
"I'd rather have more real soldiers than mercenaries. Besides, my grandfather found something interesting while he worked: child soldiers of the Merchants who've abandoned their nation. Enhanced by both the Ancients and the efforts of the Scholars. In exchange for their help securing some weapons produced by the merchants, they'll be given homes in our lands." She produced another paper. This one was inconspicuous and unmarked. It meant that it came through common mail through our supply lines, rather than through military channels. Hidden in plain sight amongst hundreds of others. It escaped my notice completely. "They will need funds for their town, and they have no clue how to do anything besides wage battle. They'll suffice as our deniable force."
I had no questions after that statement; then the door opened and both Sirena and Ilych came through.
"There's movement amongst the Forger lands. Our patrols saw an approaching army of seven thousand coming our way. They have a cannon." I raised an eyebrow at the mention of cannon before noticing Morgan's brow furrowing. Was I wrong in assuming that their cannons would not be as effective as our own? "We confirmed 300 artillery pieces. Potentially fifty to a hundred more. Their design is thicker and more squat than our own."
Morgan was silent before she broke that silence with a sharp laugh and shake of her head.
"He predicted them perfectly. They're not cannons. They're mortars." Morgan reached into her desk and pulled out a black book. In it there were a myriad of commands and strategies compiled by the King of Wisdom. Should Morgan not have a plan, she could rely on the book for protocols, plans, and information written by our own king. She turned the pages, and we all approached to see what was within as she placed it on the desk. "Show me the sketch by the Iterant."
"It is exactly the same." Ilych produced the Iterant's sketch and placed it on the table. The artillery was cylindrical and squat and sat on a rotating platform. The barrel's elevation was controlled by a mechanism on the sides of the barrel. The pictures were the same, but his majesty's written description had more. The strengths and weaknesses of the weapon, as well as potential munitions it had available. "And he has more information on it than our scouts."
"The wonders of having nearly all ancient knowledge at your disposal." Morgan's voice had an unfamiliar tone. I could not tell if it was respect or affect. Or a combination of the two. She looked upon the pages with relief, and I felt the same. Facing four hundred strange new forms of artillery would result in deaths no matter how overwhelming our advantages. Now, though, we knew how to deal with them. "Call upon the mages. We have a rainstorm to conjure."
She looked my way and considered one of the possible strategies listed by our ruler.
I took a measured breath and spoke.
"I can do it." Send an infiltrator to destroy their supply lines. Mortars were heavy, and so was their ammunition. That meant they would have a limited amount of it. If even half of their munitions were destroyed, with the plan to create a storm above the battlefield that will affect the trajectory of the high-arcing shots, then the new weapons could be solidly countered. Our own cannons had higher velocity and did not arc nearly as high. "This can be a battle where we have artillery and the enemy does not."
"You would be entering a land filled with Citadel constructs, while we do not have any ourselves. Even with all your abilities, the risk is too high. Every Champion is needed, especially you, for our future plans." Morgan shook her head before a brow formed on her brow. She looked to the unit roster on the wall. Commanders of various units made daily reports on the status of their troops. Since we've settled on the former Academy gatehouse in Forger lands for more than a week, all our units were ready. "But we do have airpower on our side, while they do not."
My breath held at her insinuation, and I wanted to speak against her plan, but I knew the truth.
The air corps composed of flying horses and dive bombers was soon to be replaced by a far more potent craft. Not to mention that with our flying bastions, we could have mages wreak havoc upon battlefields nearly uncontested.
They were to be disbanded soon, and even their commanders knew this.
"Call the commanders of our flying corps. I have a proposal for them." Morgan veiled it as only a proposal, but I knew such was not the case.
If given the choice of being disbanded or dying in a blaze of glory, I knew what path they would take.