This is your first major hurdle, Romulus.” Mortarius said beside him as the orders he’d given moments earlier, under the cover of the sun-blocking storm clouds overhead, were relayed. “If you lose this battle, your journey will end before it begins. You will be a flicker of flame in the wind; ashes upon a footnote of the great book of Eternus’ history.”
“Jovial of you.” Romulus muttered.
“Humour is not my purpose.” Mortarius said coldly. “You stand now against the tide of modern history. Understand this, Romulus: You are not the hero to this world. To all the people of Eternus you represent in essence the greatest existential threat to their way of life in millennia. You stand to them as the herald of ruination. Your magic, your attire, your very patron will be seen as the enemy of all that is good and righteous.”
Romulus frowned but didn’t interrupt. He was conscious of others nearby.
“I say these things not to discourage you, but to prepare you. The stakes here are not so simple as facsimiles like good or evil, they are about the very soul of the planet. Death is neither right nor wrong, Romulus: It is inevitable and necessary. Without our Goddess, the souls of the dead wander the abyssal realm absent guidance or shepard. Despite this, it is you that will be seen as the villain for returning Her from her confinement. Not because you are, but because that is what the powers that be have defined the act as being.”
Romulus murmured his response quickly. “Make your point, Mortarius.”
“When you fight these people, you aren’t simply fighting to win, you’re fighting to change the narrative. You’re fighting for the right to exist. You’re fighting for the natural order of all life on Eternus. They will not realise it, because you are adorned in monikers of death and wield the powers of Darkness, and they have been taught these things are profane and evil.” Mortarius shook his head, and his tone grew almost piteous. “They are not. The people of this era have been lied to. Fire burns, Water drowns, Air suffocates, Earth crushes, and Light blinds… But they are not seen as evil because they simply are. In my time, Darkness simply was. It is your duty to restore that understanding.”
“Even if it means killing thousands?” Romulus asked quietly.
“Even if it means killing millions.” Mortarius said fiercely.
“And where does it end?” Romulus demanded under his breath.
“Victory, Romulus.” Mortarius said impassively. “It ends with victory, starting now.”
Romulus glanced at Mortarius one final time as the Shades started organising themselves, scanning the dead King’s face contemplatively. All he saw was iron resolve, and unwavering faith. All he saw was purpose, zeal, and confidence. Finally, Romulus offered his predecessor-turned-mentor a subtle bow of the head.
In response, Mortarius simply nodded and busied himself with some screens.
The implication was clear: the wraith had done his part to explain the stakes, and now it was Romulus’ task to make good on attaining the victory needed for this first and most crucial step. After all, if they lost here, the effort to restore the Dark Faith would perish with them. For a multitude of reasons, one of which being sheer dislike of Solarius, Romulus couldn’t let that happen.
The new Revenant-King turned at last to Zerachiel, the ostensible General of the arrayed ghost soldiers. The icon next to his name showed the chained skull, much like Rasmus’ own, which declared him a controlled minion. Odd given the nature of the Shades as relatively self-operating summons, but he wasn’t about to pick an argument with Eternus’ logic engine.
“Per your orders, I have detached five hundred of my Shades to each Maniple to form five so-called Cohorts.” Zerachiel said as he caught Romulus’ attention upon him. “Myself and the remaining six hundred and forty-nine will remain with you.”
“Good. I’ll keep one of the five Cohorts with us and deploy the other four as needed.” Romulus responded as he turned to Isolde. “Six thousand in the King’s Garrison?”
“Yes.” She responded calmly. “Plus the three thousand men-at-arms of the city itself, and just shy of one thousand city guards if they all choose to fight.”
“So we’re outnumbered three to one.” Romulus murmured.
“With Shades, the disadvantage is not nearly as severe as it seems.” Mortarius said next to him. “The Shades can only be banished by destroying their core or through decapitation. They also won’t tire, and are incapable of the mortal failings of your foes.”
Romulus chose not to reply directly to the invisible wraith, and instead turned to Hector. “Optio, take your cohort and two others and march on the King’s garrison. I trust your knowledge of the city. The Shades each have a spear, sword, and shield. Use that. Find a solid choke point where you can invalidate their numbers, and hold. Everything depends on it.”
“There will be Paladins of Solarius with the King’s men.” Isolde warned.
“Then they will be the first to bear witness to the return of Her Faith.” Romulus replied.
“I swear we won’t fail ye, milord.” Hector said on his heels. “Those shiny wankers won’t know what hit ‘em.”
“I have no doubt, Optio. Show them the mercy of the grave.”
Hector saluted and turned to growl orders at two of the Decurions that had been billeted to each lead a Cohort, despite a lack of rank change. Given that the Shades didn’t use a similar system, there was no need to worry about the formality given the lack of plausible confusion in authority.
“Decurion Mengst.”
“Your Majesty?” Kalaria asked immediately after snapping to attention.
“You will remain here with your Cohort and man the defenses. The only way into the Necropolis is through the front gate, thanks to my predecessor’s severe paranoia—”
He heard Mortarius scoff.
“—and I have no intention of compromising that advantage. The gate is a bottleneck, and the walls are largely impossible to conventionally scale. Take advantage of the fortifications and ensure nobody breaches this area. The doors will be sealed, but detach two Maniples to guard them regardless.”
“By your will, Revenant-King.” Kalaria responded with a level of fervent zeal that momentarily took him aback, before turning to organise her Cohort. He still wasn’t used to how profound of an impact the resurrection had left on the once-dead Wardens.
When she was gone he turned to Isolde. “You’ll be with me. Zerachiel, you’ll command our remaining forces with Decurion Reznick as your second. His Cohort will be coming with us.”
The Dark Templar in question saluted fist-to-heart without complaint as the towering Shade nodded, the green flames of his eyes turning to regard the rugged, black-haired Decurion.
“What will our objective be?” Isolde asked curiously.
“Am I right in assuming that the regular men-at-arms and guards are barracked far away from the King’s men?” Romulus asked with a raised eyebrow.
“Yes.” Isolde said with a slow smile. “The decision was made to avoid the usual fights that occur between natives and foreigners. Blackstone has been a remote colony for a long time. King’s men and ours don’t often mix well.”
“We’re going to take advantage of that.” Romulus said with a grin. “Divide and conquer. If we can break the men-at-arms before they realise how badly outnumbered we are, we might be able to use them against the garrison. With Isolde there, I think we can play on their identities as citizens of Blackstone to invalidate what little loyalty they have to the Crown.”
“Simplistic and with many, many points of potential failure.” Mortarius said with a sigh. “But not terrible for a self-confessed neophyte in the ways of war. Not using your Warmaster interface was a good call. You need more practice with it first.”
Romulus didn’t acknowledge Mortarius, but the wraith hardly seemed to care.
“What if my presence isn’t enough to deter them, sire?” Isolde asked as Romulus set off, keeping pace with him easily.
“Then we convince them.” He said in what he hoped was a suitably ruthless tone.
Judging by the way Isolde took a breath and squared her shoulders, he succeeded.
“Move out!” Zerachiel bellowed across the courtyard, turning the place into a hive of activity as thousands of Shades and a little over two dozen Dark Templars started to mobilise with the efficiency of professional soldiers. The portcullis guarding the entrance to the Necropolis was wide enough for his impromptu army to march five abreast, and allowed them to spill out into the inner city beyond it in short order.
The thoroughfares beyond the skull-shaped gate were also far wider than a city of Blackstone’s current population needed, allowing for an ease of passage and organisation as the fifteen hundred-odd soldiers with Hector split off to quick-march toward the outer city gate and from there the Western half of Blackstone. At his point of elevation in the inner city, Romulus could see the distant pennant — thanks largely to his greatly enhanced eyesight — signalling the location of the King’s Garrison.
Romulus glanced at his map and noted that it didn’t provide him with default knowledge of things like main garrison locations. A strange oversight, but he figured it made sense since he technically came to Blackstone as an invading force, even if he hadn’t known it at the time.
He’d definitely suspected.
“Isolde, where—?”
“Cordoned section of the south-eastern quarter.” She said immediately. “No civilian access to the barracks to avoid incidents. Whatever else he was, my father was an excellent administrator. We’ll need to pass near the Grand Bazaar to access it, but I doubt anyone will be suicidal enough to try to stop us until we get closer.”
He raised his eyebrow at her when she finished, and to her credit she managed to blush at having interrupted him.
He shook his head. At least he couldn’t fault her enthusiasm.
Romulus glanced at Zerachiel after that and the Shade simply nodded, turning to their forces and barking orders as every General in every entertainment medium he’d ever consumed had been known to do. At least Eternus was consistent, even if it suspended disbelief a little at times.
In quick order Romulus’ force of 1,152 were moving toward their destination at a brisk march and he found himself with time to himself. His eyes shifted to glance at Mortarius as the wraith half-walked, half-glided along beside him and he spoke quietly under his breath. “I’m curious why you don’t—”
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“Showing myself to your companions at present is ill-advised because it leads to implications of puppeting. Thankfully they all seemed to have forgotten or chosen not to raise the fact you admitted to talking to your predecessor when confronting the Duke, likely because they assumed I was in your thrall.”
“And being in my thrall isn’t an easy explanation?” He asked in a murmur.
“Not when I look and act the way I do. People would think you were being puppeted by me. Even with the Dark Lady’s assurances, it would invariably weaken you. No, it would be better if you made a show of summoning me and binding me to your will.”
“So… theatrics.” Romulus muttered.
“Theatrics.” Mortarius agreed. “Better they think you dramatic, than enthralled.”
Romulus nodded slightly instead of replying, and lowered his right hand to lightly brush along Lightsbane’s hilt. The sword sent a pulse of excitement in reply, and he smiled despite himself at how innocuously bloodthirsty the runeblade was. Regardless of its murderous urges, he couldn’t help but find the sentient weapon endearing.
“Your Runeblade…” Isolde began from his left. “Did you name it?”
“I did.” Romulus confirmed. “Lightsbane, Retribution of the Dark Lady.”
“That is certainly poignant.” She said with a smile.
“It seemed appropriate, and he liked it.”
“He?”
Romulus shrugged. “Lightsbane just gives off bro vibes.”
“Bro vibes…?”
Romulus grinned to himself. “Just slang. Don’t worry about it.”
“You must tell me more about your world at some point, my King.” Isolde said after nodding at his explanation. “Your Rome sounds fascinating, but I gather it is not all that is of interest.”
“How about you tell me all about Eternus, and I’ll tell you all about Earth.”
“That is where you come from?” She asked with interest. “Earth?”
“Earth. Terra. Sol Three.” He shrugged. “Has many names.”
“Is it much different from Eternus? I remember what you said about nobility when you spoke in the manor.”
“Very.” Romulus said immediately. “We have gerat machines and technological marvels, and vessels that can take us beyond the cradle of our world. Weapons that can kill a man in the blink of an eye from great distances, and tools of war that can end planets. My world is far more advanced than yours, Isolde, but…”
“But?” She asked as they marched.
“But for all that, there’s a reason we came to Eternus. There’s a reason that I chose to p… participate in this world. My home has nothing left to explore. There’s no more mystery to solve. A man can’t make his legend through the strength of his character or the tenacity of his resolve, not really.” Romulus frowned and looked at the buildings as they passed, noting the changes and improvements his Dark Reconstruction had wrought upon the inner city, even where it started to approach the outer city. Blackstone already felt grander. “It feels futile there, I guess. The rich get richer, the poor stay poor, and people step on each other for just an echo of greater relevance in a global system that inevitably finds them irrelevant.”
“That does not sound so dissimilar to Eternus, save perhaps for the scale.” Isolde remarked.
“But it is.” Romulus insisted. “Here… Here there’s adventure. There’s mystery. There’s unclaimed land. The very idea of that is insane in my world. There’s no such thing as unclaimed land. Our governments control the entire planet. Existence is a rat race for...” He trailed off and shook his head. “I know I’m not really making total sense, but here? In Eternus? We’re free here in a way we can’t be on Earth. It’s why players— I mean Travelers are so drawn to it.”
“I admit I do not fully understand what you mean, my King.” Isolde said after a few moments of silence. “But I empathise with your lust for adventure and discovery. I think those are desires that transcend the boundaries of worlds, no matter how different they are.”
Romulus looked at her and felt himself smile. “Yeah. You’re right. They do.”
The pair of them lapsed into companionable silence from there and settled into the march, with Romulus’ eyes dancing over the restored buildings they passed in their wake. The alterations his ritual had wrought upon the city were not limited to updating or restoring buildings, but also entire facilities. New complexes dotted the higher points of the city, with obsidian spires thrusting toward the crackling blanket of dark clouds above as if to bask in the dark magic that sourced them.
The Necropolis’ central spire continued to feed energy from the Well to the storm, connecting the citadel to the sky through a beam of purple-and-black mana that unleashed constant pulses of energy every ten seconds. Romulus could feel each wave to his core, resonating with the dark mana in his veins and offering a feeling of elation and bliss.
They crossed through from the inner city to the outer city moments later, and Romulus felt the tension shift as his force of eleven hundred and change stepped into the outer city. The Shades seemed to bristle with greater alertness, and the Wardens he found unsurprisingly localised around himself and Isolde watched the area around them like hawks. Their eyes scanned newly stonewrought rooftops and glanced down now-wider alleyways.
The biggest change, however, was the lack of smell. After his first experience in Blackstone, Romulus had expected to be assaulted by the stench of human waste and rotten food. Instead there was nothing. It was as if the storm, despite being rainless, had sluiced the city clean. If this weren’t enough, there were also clear signs of more traditional sewage and drainage solutions through the streets and roads, with clear storm drains and filtration gutters present where before there had been none.
Romulus glanced at Mortarius and, judging by the lack of surprise on the wraith’s features, guessed that this was likely what the city’s infrastructure had looked like in his predecessor’s time. It was odd that the city would become so dilapidated, if not devolved in the intervening years — but it was a mystery for another time.
A quick glance at his map told him that they were passing through a section of the main residential areas near the Bazaar, and true to its notification Romulus could already see signs of the city’s residents. Men and women in clothes of vacillating levels of quality stood in shoulder-to-shoulder solidarity — be it out of fear, awe, or simple curiosity — and watched as Romulus and his forces marched past.
Some people ran immediately upon realising what it was that was marching past, and properly seeing the spectral green flames flickering around the Shades. Others stayed rooted in place, perhaps out of some instinct to avoid notice by doing nothing worth noticing. Others looked away from the ghostly warriors to where they suspected a leader must have resided, and found the wall of dark steel that was the maniple of Dark Templars.
A mix of recognition, surprise, and confusion passed over the faces of those that knew the features of those they saw. The Dark Templars had helmets, but Romulus had advised them not to wear them until they were about to fight. It was a calculated risk, but it was one that was paying off before his eyes. These people were Blackstone natives born and raised. They knew the Duke’s elite force well. Seeing them walking in formation amid the Shades seemed to have something of a calming effect.
What was more interesting was that none of them recognised Isolde.
The tall Methuselah was essentially unrecognisable from the brightly-attired woman she’d been just that morning. Her dark plate, with its silvery chainmail and blood-crimson highlights were nothing like what people expected from her. Add to the fact she had physically been enhanced in every way a person plausibly could, and more than anything else there was fear and awe as eyes slid onto her features and away.
Romulus noted she was scanning the crowd diligently. She at least was clearly aware of the fact that, while powerfully blessed, Romulus was not himself inherently powerful. Isolde’s role as his impromptu bodyguard was one that hadn’t been discussed, but that existed as a silent understanding between the pair of them. Without her, Romulus was as exposed in Blackstone as the newly minted Adventurer he truly was beneath everything.
As he swept his eyes over the crowd of people watching, he noted the staring and wide eyes of a pair of children in ragged clothes. They stood slightly apart, both included by the crowd and rejected by the casual familiarity that linked some individuals to others. Romulus could recognise the sign of what appeared to be orphans or the unwanted.
“Those boys over there—” He said to Isolde as they walked “—are they part of a larger group?”
It took the Inquisitor a moment to find who it was he was talking about, and then she turned to him and nodded. “They’ll be part of the beggar youths. Their parents likely died trying to find their fortune in the Forest or ran afoul of one of the gangs in the outer city. For all that we tried to strangle it, crime is rampant in a city this size, with so many places for ne’er-do-wells to hide.”
“When everything is done, I want all the children without guardians brought to me in the Inner City.”
Isolde arched an eyebrow sharply in question and fixed Romulus with a hard look, before she abruptly shook her head with a wry smile.
“I forget you aren’t one of us sometimes, my King. From many nobles, that order would have implications that no one of sound moral fiber likes. I forget that you are… different.” She inclined her head in apology even as he swallowed the rage and revulsion her words evoked in him. “May I ask your intention?”
“Children are the future of any healthy society.” Romulus said after sloughing away the filth of her implication and filing away a mental note to execute anyone guilty of child predation. Publicly. “If we can educate them and train them at a young age, they’ll form the backbone of a loyal and prosperous nation. Children also hear and see things others don’t or can’t. They’re easy to miss. Integrating them into my currently non-existent intelligence network would be practical.”
Isolde nodded as he spoke, and graced him with an approving grin when he finished. “Benevolent and ruthless in equal measure. It is good you are such. It will make them less suspicious with a clear expectation involved. They will be much more likely to trust you because of the expectation of service.”
“People are practical.” Romulus said simply.
“That they are.” Isolde agreed as they finally passed the crowd and moved deeper into the outer city, toward the entrance-proper to the area sectioned off away from the rest of the eastern quadrant. The gate they approached was unguarded, but it's shoddy construction — at least compared to the newly-restored city — marked it clearly as a new addition to the ancient metropolis.
“That’s our objective?”
“Yes. I’m surprised it’s unguarded, but I imagine they realised a pair of guards wouldn’t mean much against what we’re bringing.”
The gate was positioned across what was an otherwise normal thoroughfare, leading into a smaller road away from the main area that wound deeper into the south-eastern part of the city, flanked by towering residential buildings and clumped stores and ancient buildings that had likely functioned as something approximating an improvised wall when combined with the gate.
“How are we to get past?” Romulus asked as he eyed the gate, noting its not-unimpressive height. It was easily over ten metres high, and six wide. “The buildings here offer little to no wiggle room.”
“Leave that to us, my King.” Zerachiel said at his side, before lifting a hand and motioning to one of the larger Shades. In response the female spirit-soldier grinned and barked some orders to the Shades around her, before all five took off running toward the gate. Romulus watched with interest as they approached the portcullis at sprint…
...and passed right through as if it weren’t there.
“I didn’t think you could do that.” He said in surprise.
“Normally we cannot, sire. At least not here.” Zerachiel confirmed. “This city has ancient, powerful wards worked into its deepest layers. Your predecessor—” Romulus could have sworn the General’s eyes flickered toward Mortarius “—ensured that no phase-shifting enemies of any mana affiliation could circumvent its fortifications.” He jerked his chin at the gate. “The squatters, however, were not so thorough. This construct is new, and not subject to the wards protecting the old city materials. For my army, it may as well not exist.”
“That’s useful to know.” Romulus said with a thoughtful nod.
“They’ll know we’re coming, my lord.” Isolde warned. “Very likely they’ll be waiting for us.”
“We need them to know that we aren’t here to destroy their home.” Romulus said as the grating of steel filled the area and the large portcullis started to rise steadily. “You will need to show them who you are, Isolde. It might weaken their resolve, at the least, if a fight is inevitable.”
“I’d wager it will be, Your Majesty.” Victor said from beside Zachariel, the normally quiet Dark Templar bowing his head respectfully as he continued. “No disrespect to Your Grace, but without knowing the full story many will think you to have bewitched or afflicted Lady Isolde. We know she has been blessed, but not all are so enlightened — or so willing to accept such things, even if the System should throw it into stark relief before their eyes.”
Isolde glanced at Victor appraisingly, but nodded. “He is right, my King.”
“All the more reason to at least see if we can’t force them to an earlier surrender when they see how outmatched they are. I need these people as intact as possible, and willing to listen. I can’t hold the city with fifty Templars alone.”
“Zerachiel’s abilities will tell him when they are wavering.” Mortarius said coolly from Romulus’ side. “Once he alerts you to their vulnerability, do something dramatic and call for the surrender again. If you can mix theatrics, shock, awe, and raw power with a healthy dose of fear at the exact right moment… Well, you may be able to eke out something resembling a respectable force from whatever remains of the men-at-arms and city guard.”
Romulus was careful not to openly nod to Mortarius’ words, and instead looked to Zerachiel, Isolde, and Victor. “The moment they start to waver, Zerachiel; inform me. I may be able to stun them into a long-enough cessation of combat to inspire acceptance of what is to come. My victory here will come regardless, but I’d rather it be buoyed by the immediate employment of soldiers loyal to this city, if not me personally.”
“In time, they will come to respect you as we do my King.” Isolde said confidently.
“And I will put my hope in that for the future, Isolde.” Romulus replied. “But I’m going with the Alexandrian approach on this one.”
Grinning at their confused looks, Romulus wasted no time in leading them forward as the Shades started to pass through the open portcullis.
It didn’t matter whether they understood. It only mattered that his plan worked.
So it was that when they marched further in and the buildings widened into a massive space designed for festivals and pop-up markets, and Romulus beheld the pennants of House Argent and Blackstone City held aloft by a defiant army of grey steel, boiled leather, and steady spears… He smiled.
He smiled when his Shades assumed smooth, shield-and-spear phalanxes and his Dark Templars stepped up alongside him as he moved out to meet the flag-of-truce bearing herald at the halfway point between the local forces and his own.
He smiled when Isolde lifted her chin with pride, and the flashing lightning illuminated her supernatural beauty and danced within her silver-marked scarlet eyes.
He smiled when he saw the uncertainty, the fear, and the determination in the eyes of the men and women arrayed before him.
Eternus had promised him action and adventure beyond his wildest dreams.
And at last, he felt as if it were starting to deliver.
“Dovie'andi se tovya sagain.” He murmured quietly.
A quote from his favourite novels.
It’s time to toss the dice.