Path of the Hive Queen

The longer he spent among the people of the Eternal Dark, the more Armin realized their affinity for the arts and how much he had underestimated it.

It wasn't just the elites with whom he rubbed shoulders; the common people, including the soldiers, were also quite fond of them. But perhaps his initial failure to see that was a little justified, since they also seemed to prefer different kinds of arts than the noble mistresses. Namely, Armin had only really been able to attend performances of their epic poetry once the fights started, since it was apparently private, or at least something the soldiers liked to keep among themselves. But even the dramatic displays of several soldiers trading off and occasionally acting out their ballads, while often adding new stanzas, paled compared to their fondness for music.

Dark elf soldiers really liked to sing. Especially when marching. They'd often make up their own new songs, trying new verses and watching for the reactions of their units, or engaging in spontaneous competitions of who composed the best song.

As such, it was no surprise that his trek from Laterien'nas was accompanied by a lot of singing.

Armin still wasn't entirely sure how he had ended up at the head of this detachment of soldiers. Certainly, there had been a bit of fighting in the capital in which he'd proved himself, but there must have been more to it than that. Of course, part of it was clearly just that he was headed in this direction and the Military Council had no one else they trusted more to send with the 'expeditionary force'.

Their efforts to secure the city had gone reasonably well, after he first met with their new leadership. Unfortunately, it had perhaps gone a little too well. The nobles still in the city had surrendered relatively quickly and were now either in the custody of the alliance or self-professed fervent converts to their values. The issue was that many of the most senior people seemed to have sensed the way the wind was blowing and got out before they could be apprehended. It turned out Armin's side had underestimated their grip on all the paths and tunnels out of the city.

Now, they had most recently gotten word that the Hegemon, Eminent Mistress Anevien, had denounced them all as traitors and declared a new Emergency Council with herself at the head as sole Sovereign (the other spot being currently empty, at least, as no one knew what had happened to Director Esavian) to restore the rule of law.

Which, well, fair was fair, he supposed — his own allies had also declared a new Council, the more cumbersomely named Council of Wise Governance and Necessary Reform, or just Governance and Reform Council.

Anevien had the backing of quite a few loyalist houses and they were still gathering troops in the northwest, but by all accounts they had amassed a large army already; despite minor rebellions breaking out there, too — brushfires which she and her fellows stamped out ruthlessly.

The Governance and Reform already had subcouncils and people were trying to form a proper structure, even if there was a lot of fighting about it. Armin knew it was intended to be something more permanent than a temporary measure; unlike, perhaps, the old Hegemon's, which traditionalists would probably dissolve to restore the status quo and not have the great houses give up too much power. Or maybe not. He didn't have enough insight to guess, but it was always possible she or whoever ultimately led them was eying sole rule, too.

It was increasingly obvious that the question of who would rule the Eternal Dark would be decided with civil war.

The Reformist alliance had also been recruiting soldiers. A reasonably large chunk of the army had been close by the city of Laterien'nas for the Gathering of the Councils, but it wouldn't be nearly enough to win a war. The Reformist houses were also summoning their house troops, and the Free Brotherhood had managed to subvert most of the central government's army. Not all of it, though; a significant number of men had stayed true to their original house affiliations and were siding with the Loyalists. That proportion was even noticeably higher for the troops that had technically been seconded to the government by the houses.

When Armin had left, the Free Brotherhood leaders were also making plans to coordinate revolts and rebellions among the troops of various other houses, especially those that seemed to be trying to stay neutral, and of course to subvert the fighting forces of the Loyalist houses. Not that they saw it that way, obviously; they wanted to free their 'brothers'. A laudable goal, which had already led to some clashes with the … more conservative 'reformist' houses in their faction, who didn't want to give up control of their soldiers, either.

Overall, it was shaping up to be a big mess. At least the immediacy of the war managed to focus them somewhat. The Council had sent the majority of their current troops north, hoping for reinforcements to assemble and send behind them. Armin had joined that army, and was now leading a chunk of it west. I just wanted to go and meet Madris, he reflected. Then again, with the state of things, having a lot of soldiers along and securing the territory as we go is probably a better idea. And safer.

He smiled slightly, listening to the song currently echoing through the large cavern — one of the central throughways of the Eternal Dark, broadened enough to allow for marching troops through at a reasonable pace. He'd heard that song before (it was almost a good omen to hear it now), so he was now trying to translate it in his head. He wasn't a poet, though, so he had some trouble with the rhythm and the rhymes.

…

Brother killed brother, so we all chose,

And the dwarf and the gnome and the surfacer marched,

And in the deep and the dark, vengeance rose,

Blood, blades, we clashed and burned and scorched

Dead house's scream, dead woman's sigh, dead man's bell-chimes,

In the deep and the dark, vengeance rose,

To end the crisis of our times

From the deep and the dark, vengeance rose,

For those lost when once we were close

And in our minds, went the shadows

From the deep and the dark, she came,

With our shades, vengeance, blood and flame

And the dwarf and the gnome and the surfacer fled

We are the Eternal Dark, bright and brightly-led

All of us united, striving against our foes

From the deep and the dark, she rose

From the deep and the dark, we rise

From the deep and the dark, we rise

'The deep and the dark', Armin hummed as the last line repeated. The song seemed to strive towards a climax that remained out of reach with no resolution, as if it was inviting the listener, drawing them in to complete the song.

Then he quickly stopped when he caught the look from one of his escorts. Before he could say anything, Sarkol approached to join him, deftly maneuvering his mount in the dark tunnel. That it was basically an overgrown mole bothered no one, and it did have sharp teeth and claws.

"There was another failed revolt at a minor house's stronghold," he said grimly. "We saw bodies swinging from the walls even before we got close."

Armin exhaled heavily. "I hope you laid them properly to rest."

This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

"Of course." Sarkol glowered. He liked to lead these 'ranging parties' around the main tunnel's cavern, but they rarely found unqualified success.

"And the house?"

"We helped their remaining men take it. The mistresses who survived are on the way back to the Crossing. And we've got a bit more food for the trek."

Armin nodded. He didn't want to ask about the details. Even if he disapproved, he knew Sarkol wasn't going to listen to him about everything. It was a bit of a balancing act, this mission; they were essentially leading this force together. He was confident that Sarkol would have spared anyone innocent, even if he had strung a few people up to replace those who'd been killed, and Armin would make quiet inquiries with the others of this section later; that had to be enough. The thought wore on him, but … he'd never expected this to be bloodless or some grand triumph of justice without obstacles. Armin might not be a soldier, but he was familiar enough with war to know that it was never that.

"We're getting close to Tetian'nesa," Sarkol said. "We should tighten up the formation and see that we get more word from the scouts. Their garrison won't be able to stand up to our men, especially with you to open the gates for us, but it's still better to be cautious. They might've had Loyalist reinforcements."

Armin nodded again. "True. I'll go and take a closer look myself once we're on the approach. You said there's no other corridors in a good flanking position?"

They discussed the tactical situation, but Armin was a bit distracted by what he saw at the side of the road. Apparently, someone had decided hanging 'traitors' from the walls of their little fort in a side cavern wasn't enough, and had also used nails driven into the stone of the tunnel for the purpose. Their outriders were already taking them down when he and Sarkol approached at the head of their column, but Armin could still see the bodies.

Most of them were young men, but there were a few girls. One or two older men with wrinkles. None of them looked like they had had a peaceful death, judging by what he could make out of their expressions.

He wondered if they'd have still done it if they'd known this force was coming. Had they known? Had the house's leaders decided to brutally crack down on any dissent out of fear of weakness or to make some kind of point to everyone, even if they were doomed?

They kept moving in silence. Armin took a deep breath and focused on his mana; let a bit of darkness seep out of him, forming shadows that deepened around him, his own shadow growing on the ground and the walls where it was cast from the dim light of bioluminescent flora. He knew it made for an impressive sight, and it would be easy to turn the darkness invisible and hide himself within it.

Finally, more scouts came to report to them, and he saw the walls of the town in the distance. It was built into a naturally occurring cavern that ran lengthwise along the path of the road, so the road had taken advantage of it and was built straight through this cavern. Which meant it was a natural chokepoint. It was possible to bypass it — the dark elves disliked leaving unassailable spots inside their own territory, probably due to how they used to fight among themselves — but it would leave them in a vulnerable position if they didn't take this stronghold.

And Armin knew they could take it, even if it had been reinforced. It was why there were five thousand soldiers accompanying him. According to the new customs they were trying to establish, the soldiers had voted for their own officers (among selections approved by the Military Council when it came to the senior ranks). Some previously assigned officers kept their positions, some changed to respected veterans. Either way, they all knew what they were doing and led a capable force.

It was becoming obvious that the town-stronghold had suffered some fighting of its own as they approached, though. The scouts had reported the sounds of fighting, and while that had died down, the stone wall guarding the approach from the east was missing a few crenelations. The gate stood ominously slightly ajar.

"This might be a trap," Sarkol said, pulling his mount up short. "We need to be careful. I'll tell the men to form up."

"They don't seem hostile," Armin observed, looking at the few figures visible on the battlements. "A shield wall will be more trouble than it's worth here. Let's approach swiftly. I'll go ahead and see what we're dealing with. And keep the gate open if it is a trap."

"It's your neck," Sarkol shrugged.

It didn't take much time to prepare the troops, and then they were advancing on the gate behind him. Armin closed his eyes to focus for a moment, concentrating on his mana, and then immersed himself fully in it. He focused on the spot behind the gate and pushed forward.

Darkness swallowed him and a breath later, he was inside the fortifications of the town. The signs of battle were more obvious, but it clearly hadn't centered on this wall; the central keep was slightly sooty and listing to one side, and there were still bloodstains in a few places. But no bodies remained and the spots weren't big enough for many people to have died. More importantly, the armor and helmets of several senior commanders with house sigils prominently engraved on them were hung from the keep and the inner wall, almost like a mockery of what he'd seen on the trek here.

There were more soldiers keeping watch inside, and after two seconds he spent looking around, they all almost simultaneously turned on him. Armin tensed up, grabbing his daggers. But before he could move, a familiar mind reached out to him and he heard a mental voice he'd missed. There you are. I'm glad I found you, Armin. Please tell your men to come in, this town is secure.

Armin exhaled, releasing his grip on his daggers. A moment later, he also let himself become visible again. A start went through the assembled warriors, but they didn't draw their weapons. Instead, what seemed to be their leader stepped forward cautiously.

I'm glad I found you, too, Madris, he replied. It looks like you've been busy.

She didn't answer, and he was distracted by the sergeant stepping up to him. "Delver Ulaven," he greeted him. "We're all glad to see you. We'd like to join forces with the Free Brotherhood. If you would accompany me, our leaders want to talk to you, and I'm sure you're eager to see the mistress."

"I am," he replied, then turned to call to the approaching soldiers, assuring them that it was fine and the garrison were allies.

It took a minute to sort everything out, but Armin left Sarkol to get the soldiers organized and went on ahead, following the sergeant into the main keep first. It was dark inside, only lit by a single magical light bulb, but it had clearly been turned into something like a war room with maps spread on the tables. Armin was more focused on Madris and the two dark elf men she was speaking to, however.

He recognized their names, Armin realized with a bit of surprise. Madris had occasionally spoken of old comrades, when she was in a nostalgic mood, and she had given him more information on potential allies before he had set off on this journey. They were both mentioned, although they had clearly climbed to higher ranks in the intervening time. Or not that high, he realized, remembering the commander's panoply outside. They mutinied. Everyone turned as he approached.

"Armin." Madris smiled. "Good to see you. Looking well."

"You too," Armin replied, mostly honestly. They looked at each other for a moment, before moving into an embrace.

He caught the others' brief look of surprise, but he didn't care.

"It's good to meet you, Master Armin," Anevien greeted him after a momentary pause. "Especially with the company you bring."

"Five thousand soldiers of the Reformist Alliance, marching under the Governance and Reform Council's orders," Armin confirmed. "I was mostly along for the ride, hoping to find Madris."

His friend smiled. And I'm glad you did, she replied. It's not quite the homecoming I had imagined, but maybe I came back at just the right moment. Your insight into what's been happening will be invaluable. And I missed you.

Likewise, he replied.

"Good news," Otemien spoke up after a moment, "but our supplies won't stretch to host them for long. Too much was plundered by the Loyalists before they withdrew to the north. But it gives us enough men to take Egeri'nas, or even farther cities. Should we prepare to march, Eminent Mistress? To the west?"

"Perhaps," Madris replied. "Armin, what other news - do you bring? Enemy positions?"

Armin frowned slightly, before he controlled his exporession. It might not be too obvious if you didn't know her well, but Madris' speech was far less fluid than normal, the brief pause telling. The message he got from Madris had been very brief, but she had mentioned being gravely injured and something about treatment; apparently the scars still lingered.

"Concentrating around Aterali'nas, still," he replied. "There have been minor rebellions in many places, but often, we've only heard of them after they've already succeeded or failed. The Loyalist houses are moving troops to crush them, so I'm not sure of their latest positions in this region."

"They've tried in a few places around here, too," Otemien chimed in, nodding. "We weren't called up to help put any rebels down yet, though."

"Then they must have thought they could handle it," Armin said. "We saw some remnants of their methods on the way in. Maybe they're hoping to cow any potential rebels with brutality. I don't suppose it will be different in other regions."

"They'll probably try to be more 'thorough' in the Loyalist strongholds in the northwest, if anything," Otemien said. "To show they're a 'firm hand' and all that."

"Yes, that does seem to be the case," Armin commented. "Some people always try to feel secure by hefting a bigger hammer."

"They'll bleed all the same," Anevien said with a smirk. "Once they learn that vengeance has risen again."

"I'm more concerned about seeing the Eternal Dark united, personally," Otemien returned, but he was also smiling sharply.

"So am I," Madris muttered. She wasn't smiling at all and her tone was serious.

Armin could tell she didn't like the way they'd phrased this, and he suspected she was troubled by more than the prospect of violence. They needed to have a long talk about everything, but for now he put it aside to focus on their next moves.