Harlan had only a week before the Cast would be upon him again. His birds had told him what was coming, the same army as before, child soldiers and a tank. He tried the same trick again, using the gate and the snowstorm, but they carried a device that gave them a read on their location.
He could only get a few of them through before they realized what was happening and gave a halt command. From then on, they spread out, their reality anchors causing the gate to fizzle out when they got near the edges. He had no more methods to make them turn back.
So he did the only other thing which he could, make a speech, and hope to sway their minds.
Yet as soon as he showed himself, no manner of talking or non-threatening way to present himself was enough, and they opened fire.
“PLEASE, STOP THIS, YOU DON’T NEED TO FIGHT ME.”
“FOR THE EMPEROR!”
They screamed with zeal one after another, uncaring for Harlan’s attempts at peace.
Seeing that nothing they hit him with could pierce his armor, they moved back and the tank fired its shell, tearing Harlan’s arm off even though he attempted to dodge.
Harlan fled, jumping up and out of the range of their personnel anchors before activating flight turning to a giant hawk, mixing natural and magical means to boost his speed.
With the snow as his cover, he went back down, grabbing his arm in his talons.
Losing a limb was an inconvenience, losing his armor which was on the arm was a setback due to the rarity of elemental metals outside of the veil.
In the sky he folded into himself, absorbing back his limb and forging his armor back into a single piece.
He had no answer this time, and no advice that came to mind was useful.
So for the meantime he would swoop down, grabbing at their guns which could not harm him while the tank took too long to swivel, by the time he had come and gone, the barrel wasn’t even close to having a shot on him.
Knowing that he didn’t have the heart to actually kill them, they moved ahead, not wasting ammo.
But as one of them saw him coming, they grabbed him, their weight not being enough to affect him in this form which was made to fly without magical assistance using multiple sets of wings.
Yet the plan of this one was not to slow him, they pulled the pins on their grenades, and Harlan was still more or less unharmed, the shockwaves having caused him discomfort, but little more.
Blood covered him and he cawed in grief that he didn’t see it coming, that he let some child kill themselves in a bid to harm him.
He circled overhead, trying to think of any plan that wouldn’t involve them dying.
He dived again and again, taking off limbs, hoping to force them to turn back, but the other soldiers simply shot their comrades in the head and kept moving after stripping them of the things that could be easily used by any of them, grenades, ammo, guns to replace the ones that were stolen.
Harlan knew this brutality was to shock him, but it was also simply part of how they had been raised, the ones that died cared nothing for their own lives, nor the lives of others, they were fundamentally broken.
The advice that he hated rung in his head.
If he let this go on, they would just send more, if he showed that sending children was enough to stay his hand, they would send nothing but children, because that was how the Cast were.
They were not that culturally different, they were not of another mind on morals, they knew and understood it all, and they intentionally used these things to attack their enemies.
There was no world in which both sides would be allowed to exist at once.
The guards on the wall were tired, new people who hadn’t yet adjusted to the nightshift which was reaching its end.
So it took them just a few moments longer than it should’ve to see the giant bird which flew towards them.
When they ran to the guardhouse to ring the alarm bell, it was already on the wall, perched on the bastion.
They froze, something so large and strange looking was surely magical, so they hoped that it wasn’t there to kill them.
They felt a force enter their minds, and it asked that they just continue with their work, he just wanted to watch the sun rise from the wall, let the wind blow the feeling of flood from his feathers.
So the men, believing no way by which they might fight the creature, and its mind seeming to hold no threat, continued with their work, and once out of earshot, they contacted the night watch commander, who arrived, saw the bird which stood 15 feet tall with six wings and four legs, and he got the same request, to leave him be while he watched a sunrise.
Harlan’s form twisted again as he entered his balcony and called Carmilla.
Considering the late, or rather, early time it was, she answered surprisingly quickly.
“Do you think it will stop? That they won’t send children again.”
“So long as you don’t fight them, they will-”
“Will they stop now? Will I not have to do this again?”
“Ah, so that is the purpose of this conversation. Very likely they will see that you chose not to fight them before, but that it won’t stop you from fighting. I hope you’ve not called me for a shoulder to cry on.”
“Good night.”
“No, good morning.”
Over the battlefield, as the clouds parted and the storm passed, the red diamond dust still filled the air, and the red snow glistened in a beautiful horror.
No one knew of the threat before he put a stop to it, he could’ve pretended that it hadn’t happened, that he hadn’t killed thousands of soldiers even younger than he was.
But that wouldn’t help anyone, nor would it explain how he got his hands on a Castian battle tank.
So in the afternoon, he called for an extended lunch break for the workers so he could make a proclamation, devices set up across the city let him spread his voice farther than any simple series of arrays to amplify him would.
“I have called upon you, my citizens, to listen to my words, so that you may know I’ve repelled another attack, destroying a small army of enemy soldiers.”
He waited for them to cheer and quiet again before he continued.
“Yet this is not a celebration, but a warning. I am aware of a cult of sorts forming, thinking that I am some divine hero, a punishment for the Cast, that I am something more than a man.
I will make this clear, I am just a man, my blood flows black, but I still bleed, and my heart still mourns for those who I killed, child soldiers, barely old enough to start their lives, yet I cut them down.
It is their zealotry towards their emperor which gives our enemies the ability to do what they have done, to force children to fight, because there is no evil which cannot be justified as being the will of the emperor.”
Harlan cast a large gate, showing the battlefield from above, red snow all around, craters from magic and mundane attacks.
Harlan’s tone turned somber the longer he spoke.
“In my birthplace, a war was fought for a thousand years, zealotry turned what should’ve been normal people into soldiers who lived and died trying to tear down those who they disagreed with.”
Then his voice rose in volume and manner, giving a sense of valiancy and hope.
“I will not let my legacy be men thinking I am a god, for though I am in a pact with one, I was just a man before, and I still acted in the same manner to better the world.
Each and every one of us here has the ability to better the world, not because we are gods, but because we are people, not beholden to instinct or fervor, but to only ourselves, and we must desire this better world, we must force it into being.”
Harlan put his closed his over his heart and pounded three times, the thuds echoed through his magic and across the city.
“We are here, we are flesh and blood, but our enemies are the immaterial, yet that does not mean that we shall give up, or lose, for those threats of the mind must manifest through the body to cause harm, and those bodies, those enemies, can be killed.”
Harlan stopped speaking, and the people beat their chest as he had, then Harlan leaned over the railing, seeming more casual.
“In time, we will be receiving new citizens from the west, past the sea, and from the desert. At that time, I hope each and every one of you remembers what I’ve said, and treats them as citizens, not humans, nor Dague, nor anything else, for each of you are my citizens by choice, and each of you should understand what it means to be in a new land for the first time.
When the time comes, we shall make a holiday, a festival of togetherness, to remember not to let one having scales or horns allow us to paint them as an other, for I brought you here to live as equals.”
When Harlan went inside, Dawn was shortly behind him, the cheers of the people were almost deafening, despite his words, his desire and intention was to ignite some manner of zeal, but towards no man, but rather to the ideals, those were much harder to kill.
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“That was a good enough speech.”
“Have a group of people search for alchemical books in the Grand LIbrary of Redhaven. I want knowledge on ingredients related to acids, decay, and oxygen. Don’t take the books, just compile a list of names so I may look at the books myself.
Mercedes, how are the food stocks?”
“We are doing quite well, with the preservation wards Kor could last a siege of 6 months with little issue, longer if we rationed from the start. Your friend grew years worth of harvests in a single stroke and filled our silos.”
“And the cities in the former land of Drang?”
“Fallin has given me daily updates and I’ve shown them to your shadow each time.”
Harlan briefly thought about it, and while he hadn’t used the term, calling the lesser Harlan’s shadows was rather fitting
“He has approved numerous requests from the minister, and I have made a list of those that he approved along with his reasonings for doing so.”
“We are going to be breaking ground on several more cities in the coming days, how much flesh is still in the pits? We are going to need hundreds more constructors.”
“I have the relevant documents in my office.”
They continued walking as Harlan wordlessly opened a gate right there and she went into a file cabinet.
Three weeks passed with Harlan remaining mostly in the UT, helping to prepare people for the move.
Nobody was being rushed from their homes, and nobody was technically forced to leave, but they would be staying with the knowledge that Harlan would not support them, and there wouldn’t be towns to go to for imported items such as certain foods and building materials.
Few stayed in the desert, and there was resentment, but Harlan believed it was the best outcome.
A week before exodus day, the name that had spread among the people, a family forced their way into Harlan’s office, which had formerly been Colton’s office, the Dague who stood outside as guards were more meant as a show that things had changed and to acclimate them to non-humans being around, and they stood aside, not wanting to harm the citizens who seemed upset, but not dangerous.
“Hello. What may I help you with?”
The husband stood tall as he spoke, but still stood at only eye level with the sitting Harlan.
“I want to know where my belongings went. You sent your men to wagon it from the farm to the port but nobody has seen anything. I’ve got heirlooms from my grandpa’s grandpa in those boxes.”
“My men?”
“They said they were from Fomoria, and they had documents saying to haul our things to the port.”
“They were Dague?”
“No, they were people.”
Harlan overlooked his phrasing, hoping it was poorly chosen words and not a sign of something else.
“I have no humans under me. Those from Fomoria I sent here are all Dague.”
“Then where the hell is my shit?”
“If I had to guess then I’d say you’ve been scammed by fools who intend to make a quick coin by selling your things.”
The man tossed his hat to the floor angrily.
“What are you going to do about it?”
Harlan leaned back, setting down the pencil which he had been using to write up notes on the changes for the towns which would be free from human life after the exodus.
“Give me your hand and think about the most important items stolen.”
When there was no response, Harlan opened a gate, searching in a grid pattern.
It took a few minutes due to the downtime between gate openings, but he eventually found the men.
“I will retrieve your things, any issues with the exodus are ones that reflect poorly on me and mine, and men who would take advantage of this are weeds best uprooted before they spread to my home.”
Harlan walked through the gate while the family didn’t really know what to do, so they sat around the house and waited, the guards outside the office offering them drinks and crackers.
He arrived calmly, floating down from above.
The men at the cave entrance didn’t raise their weapons, but rather whistled for their boss, who arrived shortly.
“Ah, King Fomoria, how can I be of assistance?”
His frame was large, but age had turned him from a legbreaker into a conman who used and implied threats rather than direct violence.
“Return what you’ve tricked out of the people.”
“I have no idea what you-”
Harlan pulled a silver coin from his pouch and flipped it.
“I don’t think you understand, that was not a question, or a request, I am giving you a chance to live.”
“Fine, alright, we’ll bring it all back from where we took it, good as new. But, perhaps you’d like a look? Maybe something will catch your eye, and we can make a deal.”
“One silver coin for the entire lot.”
When Harlan’s coin next fell into his hand, he flicked it at the man’s head, ripped through his brain like a bullet, fragments of metal and matter spraying out the back.
The men tried to raise their weapons but found themselves unable to move.
Fear gripped them as tightly as telekinesis when Harlan was inches away from them, his breath letting out black mist as if it was a cold night.
“I don’t make deals with men like you, I give warnings, and I give orders, ignoring them shall only result in this here. Go into town, turn yourselves in, and I will pardon you. But if you turn to this way of living again, I will use you for the flesh towers.”
Neither of them knew what the flesh towers were, but they ran to the shaded area where they kept the horses and fled.
Exodus went well enough, other charlatans heard the story of the silver coin and willingly returned the stolen items, and those who didn’t were found out once people realized that they could go to any of Harlan’s people and he would arrive to personally deal with it after just a short call to him.
He felt stretched a bit thin, each and every other self that he made to do things for him took away focus from his main mind even if he wasn’t controlling them. Each represented a sliver of himself that just wasn’t there, like a paradox, something that he was fully aware was gone, but subtle and insidious was the lack of ability to understand what wasn’t there anymore.
As he moved another wagon train of people to across the sea through his gate, Kor had a visitor sneak in.
----------------------------------------
She made her way to the Dague quarter, these things which should not be and yet they were.
Whenever she thought about how much time she spent inside the veil and how little she was allowed outside of it, she felt restrained, her duty to Aarde was the only reason she knew that anything existed outside, but by that same reasoning, that was the reason why she was kept inside, waiting until they final day of the subtle war being waged between divinity natural born and stolen.
It didn’t take long before she had been approached by men who sought favor with her.
Marigold had a certain aura of natural beauty, a result of her being Golden, the ideal people of Aarde, his chosen creation, yet she always hated it.
Both her and Harlan had these same thoughts, had that same nagging in the back of their minds that stayed there, not showing itself until it had a chance to ruin something, an achievement, a compliment.
To be told one is born with talent, that they were destined for great things, that anyone could do what they could if they just had the same opportunities, that all of their nights of working themselves to the bone were not the reason they were great, talent, vile and insidious when used as a weapon to tear down, or that others might use to tear themselves down, to cast the blame of failure on the world rather than themselves.
She knocked herself out of these thoughts when Darrath appeared.
He flew close, Viviane tagging.
“Papa’s best friend.”
She giggled, brushing hair out of her eyes and causing the hearts of men and women, humanoid and beastkin, to skip a beat.
Yet Darrath saw none of it, physically he was able, but mentally he hadn’t hit the point yet of thoughts of love or lust.
“Does he call me his best friend?”
“He gets happy when he talks about you, and you’re strong, papa needs his best friend to be strong, otherwise he’d leave them behind.”
“He’s got a great big fire in his chest, and he doesn’t want those around him to get burned.”
“Does it hurt?”
“Not a real fire.”
“Oh. This is my friend Vivi.”
The girl looked up and down Marigold, finding her own body lacking compared to the bronze skinned goddess which stood in front of her, and the sourness was written on her as subtle as such a young woman could show jealousy at least.
“Comparison is the enemy of the good.”
“I don’t know what you mean.”
“You Dague are blessed with your own beauty, your blue skin and tall lithe bodies are certainly attractive. How old are you?”
“17.”
She resisted saying it with a huff, Viviane held a great deal of esteem in her ability to hide what she wanted.
“Then you’ll grow just fine, though better if you started cycling mana before you finished growing, it would fix those little imperfections in your skin from picking at pimples.”
Marigold could tell she wanted to raise her hands and hide her face, the little things that bothered her and were unseen with just the slightest bit of makeup were clear as day to the eyes of the champion.
Instead the girl just walked away, and when Darrath tried to move on with her, she pushed him back, telling him to just keep talking with ‘Harlan’s stupid friend.’
Darrath moved back to Marigold.
“Are you stupid?”
“No, she is just upset. Does she know your father?”
“Vivi doesn’t want to meet papa yet, but she likes looking at his room.”
Marigold raised an eyebrow, but kept the subtext so clear it was just text out of her words, not wanting to be the one to explain what it meant.
“Does she go into your home often?”
“Yeah, she always likes going there, she always says how nice it is and how I’m her best friend.”
“Hmm…”
“When papa does that it means something is bad, what’s bad?”
“Nothing, I’m just thinking.”
“Papa thinks a lot too. Is that why you don’t visit enough?”
“How much is enough visiting?”
He looked as if he had been asked to answer the question of what it means to be alive, sitting on the cobbled road deep in thought.as people moved passed them.
“Once a week.”
“I’m sorry, but I can’t come here that often, and my thinking has nothing to do with it.”
“Are you smart?”
“I’m very smart.”
“Why is papa sad so much, he won against the bad guys and then he was really sad when he hugged me.”
Marigold didn’t show an ounce of her worry; The Darkness said what Harlan had done.
“Sometimes grown ups need to do things that they don’t like, because it is the cost of making things better.”
“Oh, like when I had to wear those clothes I didn’t like, papa said I should because the red lady would be happy if I did.”
“My, who is this red lady? Does Harlan have a new friend?”
She spent some time speaking with the boy, finding out things that Harlan likely hadn’t realized, though introspective he tried to be, sometimes his extrospection, his effect on those around him was lost on the young man who was spending his time trying to look at the bigger picture and losing the trees which made up his forest.
Then as they were done, nobody would remember her, the magic she and her husband used to walk fully visible through crowded streets let her just fade away from the memories of others if she was seen.
Their minds would fill in the blanks, make false memories of what happened to the missing time, but they would have some idea of anything they learned.
Viviane would still be insecure and would have the idea to learn magic, and Darrath would feel more positively towards Marigold in the future.
It was somewhat unsavory, but it was how she had roamed the world for hundreds of years without anyone realizing it.