A hundred thousand kobolds stood in the Entry Hall, each one equipped identically with long spears, heavy shields, and segmented armor. Their gear was the product of years of work and development for the Crimson Tower’s crafters, and its quality was second to none. However, as well-equipped as they were, the real strength of that massive army was the obsessive dedication of the kobolds themselves.
They trained with the sort of single-minded commitment seldom seen among the more accepted races of the world. Many of the strongest among them had begun their lives deep beneath Min Ferilik, where they’d been forced to scrape and claw for mere survival. Down there, the only means of survival was through selfless dedication to the clutch, and that generation had passed that trait on to those who’d been born within the tower.
The result was a fighting force whose coordination and dedication to improvement was unmatched. They’d used that to drive them forward with obsessive determination that had fueled their rapid rise to true power.
To date, they had held back the bulk of that army, cycling through the squads one-by-one as they fought battle after battle. Everyone in the army had been bloodied during the war against the Imperium. They’d all contributed to the army’s successes. However, the full weight of the entire force had yet to be felt upon the Eternal Realm.
That was about to change.
“Are they ready, Silik?” asked Zeke.
“Yes, Ak-toh,” the big general stated. “The First Army will follow you into battle. The second wave, which consists of the Second-to-Seventh Armies, will surround the city and prevent any escape. The Eighth-to-Tenth Armies will remain in reserve, alongside the trainees and Scout Corps.”
Zeke almost shook his head at that. He’d vastly underestimated the number of soldiers he had at his disposal. Not only were there more than a million kobolds ready for battle, but there were nearly a hundred thousand Irregulars – which consisted primarily of beastkin, but also included other races who called the tower home – and just as many scouts. There was not an accurate count for the trainees, which were mostly juveniles who would act as stretcher-bearers and runners, while also occupying other necessary roles.
“The Spiritweavers are ready as well, Ak-Toh,” Kianma stated. “The mobile hospital is at the first campsite, while there are satellite sites surrounding the city. The main infirmary will remain within the tower itself, though. We are ready to treat all wounds and save as many people as possible.”
Zeke was in awe.
Adara spoke up, “The former Knights and our students are ready to charge alongside you.”
“I’ll be with them, I suppose,” Jasper stated.
“We will infiltrate unseen,” Pudge added, and the ten shadowy kobolds – the Inashi – beside him hissed their agreement. “We know our work well.”
After that, various other leaders voiced their own parts in the upcoming battle. The centaurs were there, as well as a contingent of undead led by Talia’s friends, Adriel and her husband, Baruk. They looked fierce in their black armor and oversized weapons, and Zeke knew from experience just how deadly they could be.
In all, there were at least two million people ready to fight the war he’d insisted upon starting. And there were at least twice as many others working behind the scenes to ensure the warriors had everything they needed. It was an awe-inspiring thought, and one Zeke could only scarcely square with himself.
“How are there so many?” he wondered inwardly. He’d known the tower’s population had grown. He’d seen the evidence. But he had never expected it to have reached such gargantuan proportions.
“Monsters,” Eveline said. “That’s how this kind of thing works. There aren’t many people who’ve ever managed to harness a horde of monsters, but this is the reason they are so feared. Monsters – especially social ones like kobolds – often reproduce quite quickly. In the wild, this is offset by a high mortality rate. But you have given them safety and security, as well as empowering them with training and opportunity. This is actually less than I would have expected.”
Suddenly, Zeke saw a vision of an entire world overrun with ultra-powerful kobolds. It was not a pleasant notion.
“Don’t worry,” Eveline said. “The introduction of sapience will rob them of much of their fertility. Depending on their natural longevity – which I think will be quite high – their birth rates will drop precipitously. Once they reach full sapience – as a race – they will produce offspring at a rate similar to humans. Perhaps even less.”
Zeke wasn’t sure what to think of that, save to simply acknowledge it. There was a good chance that the force he’d gathered represented the absolute peak of kobold society. He’d never endeavored to create such an army. In fact, he’d only ever wanted to honor his promise to Mykaena, the wyrm the kobolds had often referred to as their mother. But now, he was on the verge of using them like a tool.
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That didn’t make him feel great.
Complicating matters was the fact that, even now, quite a few of the kobolds were not sapient, and as such, were not capable of making their own choices. Most of them were only there because they were following the others. The rest, because their mother had dictated that they should.
Did they make choices? It was hard to say.
Whatever the case, Zeke couldn’t afford not to use them. Not after they had already come so far. The Imperium was evil. He knew that down to the core of who he was. And as such, they needed to be put into their place. Without the kobolds, Zeke couldn’t make that happen.
So, yes. He would use them. And as a result, many would die. He had no illusions about that, either. But he hoped that, in the end, it would be worth it, that their deaths would not be in vain.
“Give the order,” he said. “The second Sasha enacts her spell, we assault Eldoria.”
Silik clapped his clawed hand over his breastplate, then relayed the orders to juveniles who would carry them across the entire Entry Hall. It was miles wide, by that point, and it would take a little time before everyone had been informed.
“I hope this works,” he said inwardly. Otherwise, a lot of people were going to die.
* * *
Ignatius stood with his hands behind his back as he peered into the glass orb. He’d never enjoyed scrying, but it was a necessary part of any general’s life. And though he’d left the life of a warlord far behind – taking the entire Imperium upon his shoulders – he had not forgotten all the training he’d received in his youth. So, he kept his face impassive as he peered into the darkness.
Until he grew too frustrated to keep his questions to himself. Finally, he asked, “What is happening? Why can’t I see anything?”
The mage in charge – Ignatius didn’t know her name – said, “I don’t know, your grace. Something obscures the sight. Perhaps they have countermages in –”
“It is a horde of monsters. They have no countermages. They are beasts led by a savage of indeterminate origin,” Ignatius reminded the mage, his tone scathing. He knew good and well those sorts’ propensity to blame everything but their own ineptitude for failures, and he would brook none of it.
“Yes, your grace. Maybe it’s a specialized sort of monster, then. The webweavers of the Argathi Depths are known to block the sight. Perhaps it is something like that.”
“Maybe,” Ignatius agreed, though he felt more confident that his mages were simply out of practice or incapable. Those were fixable problems. The existence of some mysterious monster was not. Fortunately, Eldoria was equipped with countermeasures. So, he said, “Empower the –”
Before he could finish the order, a bright light flashed in the orb. For anyone below his level, that flash would have been blinding. Even for him, it left spots dancing across his vision. However, he was able to discern a shape amidst the blazing light, and he almost laughed at the sight.
“Is that a pigkin?” he muttered, though when he looked at the mage who was in charge of the scrying orb, he saw that the woman’s eyes had been burned out of her skull. Clearly, she had a low endurance, and she paid the price for her lack when she finally collapsed, dead before she hit the ground.
Regardless, Ignatius was far more interested in what he’d seen in the orb before it suddenly went black. A single figure. A beastkin that looked like it could trace its origin back to a common boar. What purpose could such a foul creature serve? He had no idea, but he definitely didn’t like it. Perhaps it was meant as an insult.
Yes. That made sense, even if he didn’t quite get what such an insult was meant to say.
Still, he never got the chance to figure it out before the sound of a huge explosion echoed through the city. Even in the depths of his stronghold, which was protected by thousands of powerful enchantments, he could hear it clearly. It shook the very earth and knocked the scrying orb from its cradle. It hit the floor and shattered, though Ignatius did catch sight of that same pig-creature collapsing before it fell apart.
* * *
Zeke watched from the gate as, more than a mile away, Sasha collapsed. She had spent more than a week building her spell, and though her efforts had enjoyed the protection of Kianma’s spiritweavers, she’d been forced to fight through plenty of counterspells. The level of power she’d summoned via her spell was, in a word, staggering. The last time Zeke had seen her power at work, she’d barely managed to manipulate only a fraction of that mana.
“She’s grown, Ezekiel. They all have,” Eveline stated. “The girl does not enjoy fighting, but she spent plenty of time hunting with Pudge and the kobold warbands.”
“I didn’t know,” he muttered inwardly. As far as he’d known, Sasha had confined her activities to teaching in the academy. He was happy with that, too. She was incredibly intelligent, and she’d helped plenty of others work toward reaching their potential. That was enough.
“There are many things you don’t know,” Eveline pointed out. “That girl is extremely powerful. What’s more, she was successful.”
Indeed, Zeke stared out across the field, and even on such a dark night, he could see that the walls had been breached. Physically, they were unharmed, but the runes that had protected them were in shambles. That had opened a gap in those defenses.
“Charge,” he ordered.
A second later, a hundred thousand kobolds began to pour out of three gates. They moved efficiently, but even then, it took almost five minutes before the flow ceased. Seven hundred thousand other kobolds were soon to follow.
But Zeke wasn’t concerned with them. Nor did he waste any thought on command. Others were in charge of that. Instead, his job was simple – he was meant to bolster the First Army’s charge, surmount the wall, then kill as many high-level Knights as he could find. Once he managed to enter the city itself, he would open another gate so that, even if the Imperium managed to reengage Eldoria’s defenses, it wouldn’t matter.
So, without further ado, Zeke embraced [Titan], summoned Voromir, and sprinted ahead. It wasn’t long before he passed the kobolds – after all, he was much stronger and faster than them – and after two more miles, he came into range of the wall. With a mighty leap, he jumped into the wall, and when he reached his destination, he slammed his hands into the well-fitted bricks, shattering them just enough to create handholds for the following kobolds.
Hundreds of feet above, mana swirled and the twang of snapping bowstrings filled the air. A moment later, the first kills hit him. Zeke hunched his shoulders and began his climb, hoping that his massive body would shield his people.
Thus, the Battle of Eldoria began.