V4: Epilogue

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Interlude: Conquest

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Famine proved to be a more formidable foe than my generation anticipated. We had reasoned that we had been hungry before, to the point where our parents kept us in the long-sleep, and that the challenge that lay ahead was one that could be surmounted even without the Descendant's king coming to our aid.

We were proven wrong within the first week.

Despite calls for calm, merchants were without stock within hours of the news arrived that the crops were truly failing. My people prided themselves in their ability to reason and to think, but many had had children since the establishment of the city, and none wanted to force their children or any who they cared for into the long-sleep. In but a single moment, my people proved themselves as fallible as any other mortal race, and when we looked ahead… all those leading found nothing but a path fraught with peril.

We only calmed when the first deliveries of promised grain arrived, and as the crowds dispersed satisfied after seeing grain silos and warehouses filled to the brim.

All thanks to a constant stream of the Descendant King's winged porters.

We offered him our help for his aid, and found ourselves embroiled in countering the effects of the Famine all across the land.

Some questioned the missives given to us by the King of the Descendants, Jack, but time and time again his words proved prophetic.

He foresaw the rise of bandits fighting for the cause of food across the land.

He foresaw mad scrambles between towns outside the Citadel regions for food.

He foresaw that not everyone could be saved, and saved those that he could.

I took heart in the fact, that for every deserted and dead town that we passed with empty packs on our backs, we passed by four or five more that were surviving thanks to our help. And, such was the case all over the continent. Those that accepted his deliveries of grain looked to their nearby regions and stabilized them as Jack bid them to. Though many still died, the chaos and discord that we feared never arose in force, and the armies of every mortal race never raised their blades against the people.

Such was our victory, thanks to the King of the Descendants.

However, when I returned home, with my troops after our mission to save as many as possible… nothing was the same.

No.

Something was different.

There was a stench in the air the just spoke of wrongness, and the streets normally filled with life were empty and desolate.

The welcoming of heroes befitting my troops was nowhere to be found.

"Breaker, take the vanguard and make a sweep. Triumph, with me. Everyone else… hold the gatehouse." My soldiers and retinue compiled, while my right hand came forward. He towered over me and at his back was a massive war axe. In time, with continued training, I was sure that he'll be on par with myself and my father as a Champion. His presence calmed me, as I headed for the Great Hall. "Keep close."

Triumph grunted and followed as I empowered my step and surged towards where the Deliverer was.

The closer we came… the more signs of battle we encountered.

No.

Not battle.

Violence.

Bodies of Conquerors were caught in one another's hands. Their fists were worn down to the bone, and blood bruises covered bodies, while mouths had cheeks ripped and bearing teeth. The viscera of many were splayed across whole streets, draped over fences, and torn apart. I found myself searching for children… and found myself comforted when I found none. However, still, the violence was grotesque, undeniable, and intensified as we drew closer and closer to the Great Hall.

"War chief, there is a barricade ahead." Triumph's voice was a low rumble, but I noticed when he spoke that his weapon was drawn… and I had drawn my weapons unconsciously as well. We strode upon ruined bodies of our people, their forms ripped apart… but their own hands? Some of the wounds on them were self inflicted. Skin and muscle torn off to bare bone. "There was a battle… but where are the warriors?"

I looked at the broken blockade and found that my lieutenant was correct. There were signs of bodies being cut apart by weapons, even some completely immolated by magic, and a few broken pieces of armor, but the bodies of soldiers were nowhere to be found.

After the barricade, the same violence we saw earlier continued, but with weapons and magic instead of bare hands.

"Send a message back. There's some sort of disease at play. One of madness and butchery." My stomach sank as the words left my mouth. Who did this and why it happened ceased to matter, as I considered what terrors mad Conquerors could do, especially when well armed. My father was in this city, as were many of our most prominent, and so was the Deliverer. What happened to them? The longer that I thought of the matter, the more the looming, pure white Citadel seemed like a tombstone for my people. "Tell them to protect themselves with magic and to retreat."

Triumph complied and sent the message with magic, casting the correct, colored flames into the air, and we made our way forward towards the Great Hall.

I waited for some sort of response to our signal, but none came.

Not even a response from another force of Conquerors.

Not one from our whole capital.

What has happened here?

…

The Great Hall was in ruin, but we found signs of pitched battle and the bodies of warriors against maddened berserkers. Soldiers of our people died defending the throne. Many of them surrounded by fallen enemies in spades. Many barriers lay broken, and the air was still thick with the scent of magic, while hundreds of weapons remained gripped in the hands of the resolute dead.

However, much to my quiet horror, upon the throne was the Deliverer… amongst the resolute dead.

And, in his skull through his maw was my father's weapon.

"What has happened here?" Triumph's usual calm was gone. His eyes were wide and body trembling at the sight of carnage and butchery in front of us. Our leader and our finest warriors were dead, while my father's weapon was in the Deliverer's skull and his body was nowhere to be found. As he spoke, I felt his gaze settle upon me with suspicion, but he caught himself and shook his head. He knew I had been with him all this time, and he even read my father's last letter to me from the previous month ahead of our arrival. "War chief?"

An answer was about to leave me, then I heard it.

The sound of a ram crashing against a wall in the distance.

I looked once again at the Deliverer's corpse and found his final act of defiance and came to a realization.

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Still, there were no were no dead children, and our Citadel remained.

"There are survivors in the Citadel and they are besieged!" The Citadel could produce much food, but I saw too few bodies on our way here. Not nearly enough to be the whole city's population. Then, there was the organized defense all the way to the Great Hall. Barricades, last stands, this final battle, and the lack of my father's corpse… and many others of great esteem. "Call the troops here and prepare them for battle!"

Triumph nodded and once more cast his magic in the sky.

As we waited together, I walked towards the Deliverer's corpse… and took my father's bloodstained weapon from his skull.

And, I swore an oath.

"Rest easy, Deliverer. The Conquerors will not fall today."

…

My troops arrived and joined us, then we marched towards the base of the Citadel.

There, we found corruption, carnage, and beasts in the shape of our fathers, brothers, and mentors.

The whole home guard in their finest regalia, along with many chieftains and their artifacts, along with my father and his retinue was gathered at the base of the Citadel seeking purchase.

They mutilated themselves and from their wounds came forth a deep scarlet blood that burned plant-life and immolated soil into a ruddy, dark mud. A mud that they threw gristle and viscera into as they ate and consumed the flesh of hunted animals and the last rearguard. Amongst them, I found the first sign of civilian life from the city, those that did not reach safety, dead and being consumed by the monsters that replaced those who held our respect, our loyalty, and our love.

"Whoever they are, whatever happened to them, they are no longer our people." I decided then and there to shoulder the burden. I knew not whether those infested, those who mutilated themselves to bleed endlessly and who tore apart their faces to reveal all their teeth, could be saved. For the sake of those who remained, those who were trapped in the Citadel, I made the decision. "We will kill them all and free those who are trapped in the Citadel."

My soldiers' faces were hard and stony, their usual exuberance for battle nowhere to be found, and I even smelled fear in their ranks. Our light, mobile force was over five hundred in number and we quelled many dangers, but those who were corrupted now killed the home guard, the chieftain's personal retinue, and the Deliverer himself, after his power was returned. This may very well be our last battle.

So, I roused their spirits with a roar imbued with my very soul.

"Conquerors! We go now into battle! Now, we head for victory or death for our people! What say you all!?" The primal magic of our kind flowed through me like a river of fire from my heart into my mind and out my maw. I felt it go forth, an invisible force, and reach all my soldiers. My reserves of might were halved in an instant, but with that roar I cast aside their fears, invigorated their spirits, and made their hearts beat to the hymn of war. "What say you to the end of our people!?"

From all their maws came forth a single answer:

"NEVER!"

And, so we charged headlong into battle.

Into our doom.

…

It went wrong the moment we fought against them.

They were beyond strength.

They were beyond talent.

They were beyond us.

All of us.

And, all we could do was survive, as we would against a storm of violence and carnage.

They warped their bodies through time and space with every movement. More flickers than bodies as they closed the gap between us. One moment whole. The next a blur of movement. Then, finally, a hulking mass of speed and strength that wielded weapons of immense power with all the talent of a master.

I watched half of my warriors die, torn apart in a maelstrom of violence that fed the corrupted soil burnt black by corrupted blood. Their own blood fed the ground and from it came plants of flesh. Flowers that bloomed with petals that weeped a black ichor the sought out flesh, enrobed them, and turned them into vile fruit that beat on the ground like hearts.

I wished them aid them and to do more than see Triumph rally them into retreat.

But I could not.

Because monster wearing my father's face fought and spoke to me.

"Conquest, you've returned!" He had my father's eyes and face above the nose. But below that was a grinning visage of teeth, torn muscle, and frayed skin. His teeth were chipped and broken into fangs. His tongue was gnashed into ribbons, and his words could barely be called such. The weapon he wielded… I knew that it was the source of this corruption. In its mere presence, I felt something eating away at my very soul. "Good! Good! You will make a fine vessel for the true rulers of this world!"

Madness and cruelty were in the depths of his eyes.

But my father was still there.

I could feel his strength and skill behind his blows.

I could feel him holding back, not using his entire strength, and trying desperately to give me an opening to kill him.

Yet, I couldn't and so the creature usurping him caught my side with an open palm, as I blew away his weapon from his hand to try and rip it away from him.

I succeeded in sending the corrupted weapon, an axe with a glimmering golden eye at it its center, but my father remained corrupted… and with his magic blasted apart my stomach with immense force.

Only instinct, only years of training, and only preparation for the very worst of wounds, all ingrained to me by my father, saved my life.

"War chief!" Triumph seized me by my armor and dragged me away, while a blast of magic struck my father and threw him away. My warriors fought against their fathers, their masters, and elder brothers, while my lieutenant dragged me away. I reformed my innards, piece by piece, and dropped my weapons to keep them within my burst apart abdomen. Pain and shock threatened to overwhelm me, but if they did, I would be unable to hold myself together. I forced myself to stay awake, as my soldiers died to protect me, and as my lieutenant gave the most dreaded of orders and shamed himself as I could not. "Retreat!"

We retreated, as I held together my innards, kept my spine intact, and my back joining my legs to my upper body.

We retreated, leaving our fellow's bodies to the enemy.

We retreated, as the people we protected looked upon us from the Citadel.

Judging us and finding us wanting.

As my consciousness flickered, as my strength waned, and as death claimed me, I swore another oath through bloodied lips and as my hands held what I could heal within my body.

"Father! I will not rest until I kill you! This I swear! This is not the end! No matter the cost!"

And, so, beneath the Citadel's shadow we fled.

I felt as it was cursing us.

Calling us cowards and fools all.