Six months after the battle of Westedge, an uneasy calm had taken over Lokahn’s former capital. The last few months had been spent in suspense. Little territory had been lost, but nothing had been gained, either. A halt order had been in place for the Justitian armies. That was, until today…

From the comfort of his warm study, Sanctullator looked out over the Citadel. Summer had given way to fall, a carpet of brown leaves covering the streets of the old kingdom's capital serving as the season's messenger. The skies casted a thin pour over the streets, bringing about a depressing mood amongst the city residents, as they hurried their way indoors, lest the rain wore down more than their moods.

Even in this dull spell, the Citadel’s beauty was a pleasure to behold from afar. The great marble statues of the King’s Row, the canals in the distance devoid of boats braving their choppy waters, and the vast defenses stretching far beyond the main wall. Sanctullator leaned back, and gulped from his cup of tea. Truly, the Lokahnian people were capable of wonders, were it not for the destitute cult which had enslaved them for so long. A city such as this would captivate and soothe all who came here, no matter their worries.

Everyone besides Sanctullator, that is.

Where is that grey-haired bastard at… You’d be here in the morning, and the morning won’t last forever you blithering, arrogant… ugh!

Grumbling under his breath, Sanctullator kept flicking his head back and forth between the window and the contents of the table he was seated at. A map, some writing utensils, and dishes for teacups, meant for the meeting, now gathering dust. General Gallie was supposed to arrive at any moment, according to the letter from the Emperor. Yet, he still wasn’t here.

Eleven o’clock. The time mentioned in the letter was here. Sure enough, after a minute, someone banged on the door with their fist. Sanctullator got up, in sync with the door as it flew open. A white-haired brute of a man entered the room, hands behind his back.

“General Sanctullator.”

“Gallie…” Sanctullator sighed. “Thought you’d ended up dead, given how damn long you took to get here. It’s been months, what was the hold up?!” he yelled, fists clenched.

Gallie raised his hand. “No need to direct your frustrations at me, Sanctullator. You know the Emperor’s tendency to declare victory too soon. My forces had to conduct a clean up operation, wipe out the remaining unsightly infidels in the east, as you likely could have guessed yourself.”

With a sigh, Sanctullator sank back into his chair. “Alright, alright. But everything’s done and over with now, yes?”

“Not entirely, I’m afraid. I’ve kept most of the Elites stationed over there, as the plague there is far too resilient. It’ll take some time for the region to truly be pacified,” said Gallie, running a hand through his pale mustache.

Sanctullator winced. “Ugh, Justitia damn it you old fool, my request for those elites was not a joke! It’s a nightmare out here! We’re struggling to keep those beasts holed up in their mountains, let alone take territory back from them!”

“Listen, Sanctullator. We can’t just throw the Elites at everything and expect to keep the Empire intact,” Gallie said, trying his damndest to not look Sanctullator in the eye. “Besides, I’ve kept myself up to speed with the situation here in… Lokaan, and-”

“It’s Lokahn, general.”

Gallie shrugged. “Lokaan, Lokahn, whatever the locals call it, it matters little. But yes, I have been keeping a close eye on developments here. The situation honestly is not so bad, Sanctullator. We’ve lost a small backwater town in the mountains. That isn’t precisely something we ought to throw the Elites at. Our empire has weathered far worse.”

Sanctullator shook his head. “General, this is far worse than you, the emperor, and all the others believe. We are talking about genuine monsters here. Not cults, or purple-skinned midgets with horns growing from their skull, no. Fire-breathing beasts, covered in scales, who have no qualms about eating children. These are creatures from the abyss, and our soldiers cannot keep up the struggle against them forever!”

A gale rattled the windows; a storm had arrived. Whatever unlucky residents of the Citadel were still outside made a dash for cover, fighting against the winds every step of the way. “Let us put the hyperbole down for a minute, General Sanctullator. Yes, we are fighting against demons, but we are discussing strategy here. We ought to review the situation thoroughly. It wouldn’t be the first time you threw a ruckus over nothing.”

Oh, you wretched son of a bitch you- “Fine, fine. There’s the map right there, I’ll explain everything, yes?” Sanctullator reached for a pencil with his free hand, careful not to spill tea. “So, you’ve heard of what happened at Westedge, correct?”

Gallie nodded. “I have. The reinforcing armies were destroyed, and the commander had been killed. Now, the cultist rebels have gained a foothold in the area, but.” Without warning, Gallie leaned forwards, a smug grin resting on his face. “You know, having a stubborn young zealot charge uphill into the enemy lines is not the wisest idea. I’m sure you can agree with me on this.”

Sanctullator rolled his eyes. “I bet you are.” Drop cold already, you crusty old pervert.

“Alright then.” Gallie paused to clear his throat. “So, what has happened since then?”

Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.

“A lot of organizing. Ever since Westedge I’ve had my men work on containing the threat, as reinforcements are coming in. A few raiding parties have been at work in those cursed mountains, and there's also been steps made on improving our communication and supply lines to our main positions on the front. As a result, we’ve stopped the enemy dead in its tracks, barring a few outposts,” Sanctullator said, sketching lines with the pencil on the map.

“Have you had any successes yet?” Gallie said.

“The dozen or so dragon heads we’ve paraded through the streets, yes.”

Gallie almost choked. “Ohohohoh, well, that was rather blunt, wouldn’t you say?”

“There is no such thing as ‘too blunt’ when talking about these abominations, General Gallie.”

“True, true. Nothing lightens the mood quite like justice.”

* * *

General Gallie kept himself busy stroking his mustache, as Sanctullator spent a few minutes writing a letter to one of the commanders. The aged general’s eyes flew all over the map, analyzing the smallest details. He hadn’t climbed this far up the Justitian military’s ranks by sheer luck; his intellect had won Justitia many a victory in the past. And the information his eyes fed him wasn’t very agreeable, to put it lightly.

“General Sanctullator… what is the meaning of this, exactly?”

Sanctullator’s head shot up, as did his writing hand. “Huh? Can’t you see I’m-”

Gallie cut him off. “No, I want an answer. Explain this, will you?” He tapped on the point at the westernmost point of the Lokahnian mainland. A small dot, around it a thick black stripe, with crude drawings of monsters and flames on the other side. “I never heard anything of a siege, Sanctullator.”

The brown bearded general shrugged, pretending to throw away air with his free hand. “That? Oh, that’s the rebels trying to take over the town of Frontier Harbour. Ever since the fall of Westedge, it was obvious enough they’d attack here, hence the scorched earth policy. They’ve been at it for over a month now, with little success so far. I ordered an evacuation a few days ago. All important documents and resources are to be burned, including whatever ships are in the port. As for the civilians and the troops stationed there, well, I plan to make this as bloody for the cultists as possible.”

The white mustache on Gallie’s face curled up into a frown, as the surrounding skin flared red. “Have you lost your mind, Sanctullator?! ”

“The abyss is your problem? Settle down, old-”

“Don’t you dare, you! Your buffoonery is about to set us back big time, and I’m not going to let it!” yelled Gallie. Leaves flew by the window; the sharp whistle of the gust carrying them sounded right afterwards. “It’s no wonder the cult has gotten this big, given your brilliant ideas!”

“What are you blathering about, you- General?” Sanctullator bit his tongue. Looks like he hasn’t had some ‘quality time off’ recently, ugh.

“Listen carefully, Sanctullator. You are sending innocent lives into the slaughterhouse, and throwing men away on a lost cause. That port’s not going to hold out much longer, not as the cold is setting in, and most definitely not after you’ve ordered them to burn their supplies.” In frustration, Gallie pressed his fingers into the map, gritting his teeth all the while. “Thousands of people are at risk of falling into the cult’s hands, and Justitia almighty knows what they’ll do with them!”

Sanctullator groaned. “Well, what do you want to do, then? Shall I give the order to evacuate all possible civilians, and execute the rest? Or-”

“No, you fool! One, there’s no time. Second, how do you think the populace here will take the news that we left their countrymen for dead? It’s like you want the cult to gain support!”

Sanctullator eyed the general with a look of pure disgust. Oh, no you did not… “Are you trying to doubt my faith, general? Do you want me to recite the territory I have conquered in Justitia’s name?”

Gallie backed off. “No, I am perfectly aware. As a proud servant of Lady Justitia I'd never forget your deeds. But this is no time to bicker. We need to get as many people out there, as fast as possible. So we should not burn any of those ships, we need every last one of them. How many do we have at our disposal?”

That’s more like it. Sanctullator leaned backward into his chair. “The imperial fleet has sent all free ships to help with the evacuation. Sadly, the closest suitable port is the city of Kaldedam, about three days away from Frontier Harbour.”

“That’s not good...” Gallie rasped a breath through his teeth. “Is there no possibility of speeding that up in any way?”

Sanctullator shook his head. “Not a chance. Every other town prior to that only has docks for the local fishers. And they aren’t exactly waiting on a few thousand refugees, General.”

“Urgh...”

“So, is there anything else you wish to change? Shall we perhaps execute the ‘civilians’ sympathetic to the rebellion? The inquisition there was far too understaffed to deal with the problem, or so the report goes.”

“Do we have time for that?”

“I doubt it. I suspect the garrison can only hold the walls for another fifteen days or so.”

Gallie let out a defeated groan. “Urgh… That means more manpower for the cult… Justitia guide us.”

“Don’t worry.” Sanctullator patted the general on the shoulder. “We’ll deal with them in due time.”