105. A stormy night at the Shoreside Tavern.
Intelligence claimed hundreds of thousands might’ve perished in this conflict over the past five cycles. Mostly from famines wrought by conflict. I’ve delegated most of the paperwork to other members of my cabinet.
We’ve normalized institution-structured decision making, and our industrialized foreign policy presents a positive-sum game.
“Join us!” I said. “You’ll make lots of money.”
But most of Medulli doesn’t want to play. Ischyros and the Jade states are an unruly bunch too. Rokmuro and Stromberg’s Brigantii are up for it. La Royaume would if it wasn’t falling apart – I wonder how Shini’s handling that mess? Our industrial revolution has up-ended the traditionalist state of the world through compounding economic growth. Yet, the Plaguehearts are trying to stop that.
No disguise today; just downing drinks as myself. Had a talk with Solomon and caught up with him in a way that I couldn’t as Isolus. He brought up difficulties the 4th brigade faced at the front. I just lied about being assigned to Ostracia regarding special resources and logistics elsewhere. It’s clear he cares for those under him, but it’s the orders I gave as Isolus that puts them all at risk in the first place. He rode off on his horse just before the rain kicked off.
Today, he seemed extra irritated as he vented about the recent implementation of the Pulveran War Ministry’s credit system.
It was impossible to logistically calculate the efficiency of various units. Every army I knew of, didn’t have resource allocation determined by bidding and pricing – and that made them all inherently terrible at logistics. This was why I had Euryas and his team work on the idea. We’ll be building expanded rail networks soon, so this’ll be necessary once it’s all up and running.
Smaller divisions, like Ostracia’s, get a more efficient credit bidding power. Solomon’s larger forces seemed like a black hole for resources that could’ve easily been used elsewhere. There’s a minimum allotment of credits to various units just in case, and there’s a level of informational asymmetry at play to prevent units from developing hostilities with one another. Only competition. They only know what they have to know.
A man in our black vinylon uniform and poncho with the hood up over his head, entered the establishment. He jogged towards me, and lowered his hood. My thoughts were still full of the complexities regarding running an army like a business.
“Anne sent me. See her at the Redoubt’s basement, B208.”
It was Lance Corporal Orvilo – Ouro’s grandson and my tank 451’s loader before I stayed behind and got captured.
“Right now?” I asked.
“As soon as possible, she said.”
He leaned closer.
“Infiltrators,” he whispered. “I think it’s demon-kin.”
I took my personal moped and-
“Miss Lunarka, don’t. Put your bike on the back of my truck and I’ll drive you there. You’re not sober enough to ride on your own.”
Orvilo drove me there and gave me a run-down on a group of infiltrators possibly disguised as gypsies in the outskirts of town. The worst part is, the ones we’ve captured don't only seem to know who I am, but were also caught seeking me out specifically. We arrived at the Redoubt’s inner facilities, and I tried to walk as upright as I could down to the basements just shy of the prison cells.
He stood guard at the entrance, and as soon as I passed room B208, Kantax grabbed me from behind and pulled me in.
“What’s up?” I asked.
Another, familiar voice spoke. “It.. it’s you!”
A horned woman whose wings, wrists, and legs were firmly bound to a steel chair. I recognized her with a blood curdling fury and pulled out my bullpup revolver; aimed directly at her temple.
“Wait! Please!” she begged.
I cocked the hammer, and pulled the trigger.
“Shit!” Kantax yelled.
Just before the hammer landed, Kantax wedged her finger onto it as she grappled the gun. I pulled the trigger over and over. Before I knew it, she’d wrestled the gun from my grip.
They rambled on about whatever. I didn’t care.
I broke down in tears – it was Zillah.
“She’s, she was with him! Eschaton!” I screeched, trying to haphazardly wrestle the gun back from the old hag. I picked up a glass of water from the table then threw it at Zillah, narrowly missing her and splattering against the wall. I pulled out my survival knife.
“I know,” replied Kantax. “I know who she is.”
“Then why won’t you let me FUCKING KILL HER?”
“Weren’t you told to lay off the liquor?! Sit down, dear.”
She pushed me down onto a seat. My flush skin glowed red in the mirror sitting on the desk. I gripped the knife firmer.
“Relax,” she said. “I think you should hear her out.”
I grabbed the mirror and lobbed it at Zillah – shattering it onto the wall behind her. The following silence helped me cool down.
“I..” Zillah stammered.
She looked worse for wear, almost earnest even. I hated it.
“I understand. I have no right to ask for your forgiveness, but I would like to at least say that I was under Eschaton’s magical influence. I eavesdropped on your last conversation with him before the ritual, then I went off to get the Undying Artifact.”
Slowly, she begrudgingly had my attention. “Then?”
“Right when I felt freed from his grasp, I returned home. Decades have passed, and it turns out that the treacherous ghouls fought the minotaurs and the violence escalated while I was gone. New races arrived to take advantage of it all. My kind were among the weaker ones, and thus subjugated by the time I arrived.”
She gazed downwards.
“I traded in the Artifact to get some of my kind out. They did not speak your tongue before, but I have spent the recent cycles teaching them. They are weaker here, without the miasma. I have come to seek you, the one who defeated Eschaton.”
“Well, what for?”
“Employment.” Kantax interjected.
I gave them both a look of confusion, and a slight chuckle.
They were serious.
“I’m sorry, but what good do you expect us to be able to do with several succubi? We need researchers, doctors, specialists and-”
Kantax handed me a document from her bag.
“Yeah, but we also need a way to police the underworldly community developing in Pulvera. Your constabulary has been unable to attend to more subtle crimes. Bad actors have been pouring in from the other settlements under our control. Her kind could help. Bribing officials isn’t enough, we need counterintelligence and security.”
The document listed the feasible possibilities of utilizing succubi based on their limitations – almost exactly like how Rujia described them in her secret report to me about the races she knew from the plaguelands. This outlined how they could excel at intelligence gathering with the propping up of a government regulated red-light district. They’d technically be working directly under the Wardens; Pulvera’s intelligence agency headed by Kantax.
“Seriously?” I asked.
They nodded.
“State-mandated hookers?” I asked again.
I would’ve preferred not having this kind of thing here, but if we can regulate it then it might be safer for everyone. I’ll be sure to have checks and balances embedded in that department to make sure abuses of power are kept at a minimum, as with any other branch. Succubi would also be under a long probationary period of monitoring and indoctrination. That’s insane, but it really might help if these documents and surveys are to be trusted.
“Fine. If she vouches for you, then sure. But how do we trust all of you? You could be just a destabilizing force sent by our enemies.”
Kantax lays several other documents on the table.
“Don’t worry,” she said. “I already interrogated several of the others, and gathered a fair assessment in my report. The rest are being brought here by motor carriage as we speak.”
Wait, what? But we don’t have anyone who can-
Kantax suddenly began speaking the demon-kin’s language towards Zillah, who was just as shocked as I was. I understood none of their words, but Zillah seemed to wholeheartedly nod in gratitude.
“Why’re you so keen on taking them in?” I asked.
She turned to me and spoke, handing the gun back.
“Last time Zillah was here, I betrayed her. But I respected her as the only other captain that didn’t treat me and my men like shit under Skippio. She’s saved me before – I’m just returning the favor.”
Fuck it. Fine. Let’s see how their plan goes.
This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.
Still, the worst part about this was how we couldn’t find Eschaton’s body when we took over that old castle. Zillah confirmed my assumptions, she still feels his influence slightly. Like a tingle, she says. He’s still alive, and he knows my secrets. That bastard.
…
106. Winter.
The war-weariness of all nations have risen; cracks have begun to show. Our alliance fostered a largely open sharing of technology, where both Serpent State and Ischyrosians are now licensed to produce a poorer export variant of our bolt-action rifles and 10mm ammunition to better defeat the forces of the plaguelands.
Except, the ammunition and range calibration for the rifles we sent were all black powder derivatives. That’ll hold them back.
We haven’t sent heavy weapons, and over the years I’ve made it as difficult as possible for anyone to reverse-engineer our complexified smokeless powder with Mondo’s current chemistry knowledge – only Nora and I know. Possibly Eschaton, but our mages who knew psychic magic I surveyed doubt he remembers much. It might take decades for even Ischyros’ best to crack it.
So I can better identify our special powder, and to further obfuscate chromatography tests, I’ve dyed it pink; giving the powder its name “Pulveroza” or Rose Powder. Kantax also helped spread dozens of lies of its origin and components. Hope this buys us time, keeping others’ from developing guncotton so soon. I’ve even made sure volatile ammonium nitrate fertilizers aren’t used for mining.
Politically speaking, apparently ‘not’ sharing weapons tech at all would’ve meant more of their troops dying needlessly due to a lack of firepower, and that would hurt our alliance! Unacceptable.
Still, they couldn’t or didn’t want to produce them to our specifications; instead tailoring the designs themselves. Crafty.
Serpent rifles were all cheap single-shot break-actions with massive bayonets compared to ours. Ischyrosian engineers decided to show off by building lever-action rifles instead – to which they’re using to great effect in the East-Marbordian regions far south of the plaguelands where they fight the tribes outnumbered.
There, the hostile region-tribes of Amahle, Vuyiswa, and Ekuseni were once under the Marbordo empire. Yet even when working together, they couldn’t conquer the Izula Nomads who now rule much of the southern desert continent. Their cultures are rich, and the harsh landscape has largely prevented the miasma-inducing Demonweeds from propagating there unlike the Medulli territories now under the miasma’s influence just east of us.
Unfortunately, matters have just worsened with a recent earthquake relayed to us by telegraph from the western coast. All Pulveran forces are tasked with peacekeeping and disaster response – but the 1st brigade directly under Isolus specializes in such.
Time elapsed, 2 hours since the report. Midnight.
The long convoy of trucks ripped through the now-paved roads linking the settlements west of Pulvera. They bought supplies from Valdeno and Pekina, whereas both cities legally agreed to send aid to other protectorate regions under Pulvera. The coordination was quick, I’m aboard one of the several airships en route with heavy equipment and medical staff.
6 hours since the report. A massive storm loomed.
The first airships arrived at Louvia. Though only a few buildings were directly damaged by the quake, a massive tsunami flattened the lower districts. Hundreds of injured sought our help, and many more dead washed up. This overwhelmed our medical staff.
A young Ischyrosian gryphon rider, named Damon, arrived. Having flown through storms, the armored cavalier frantically spoke to us about a small fleet of tradeships that were stranded and damaged by the massive waves. Exhausted and on the verge of hypothermia, he appreciated the warm stew we had for the victims here. We got him aboard Pulvera’s Pride and I personally commanded the airship after loading it with supplies from the motorized caravans trickling in.
As the sun rose in the horizon behind us, the fog came with it. A white puffy sheet veiled the sea, concealing much of what was below us. Damon was trained in navigation like any decent gryphon rider, but the task of finding the fleet was no easy feat.
I felt a slight sense of pride, seeing him try to explain the 16-section cut folding map to me, indicating where the incident occurred. Looks like Inkunzi was right, these gryphon riders did appreciate that map technique. After his initial bout, I showed him our own maps which were clearly made with less care, but also much more advanced and accurate. Theirs were done with well-crafted block prints; our newest were done with photolithography.
Based on his estimates, we began preparing hundreds of blankets to be shared for warmth and two thousand simple meals for the survivors. Each meal was a meat and vegetable stew garnished with Spicemoons – each poured up in cheap stamped steel mess kits, the kind we were stockpiling to issue to each soldier.
Only 84 people were aboard Pulvera’s Pride, and most of its crew were engineers I trained to maintain her. Now, I’m forcing them to push the kitchen to its limits. The few chefs were delighted to have so many extra hands for such a noble and monumental task. The delight quickly turned to annoyance, as many of the young crewmen had no culinary expertise despite the dishes’ simplicity.
Tsk. The fog’s not friendly this time.
The ones that weren’t overturned were steamships, so I had Rumi on the optics to scope out any smokestacks again – we left the armored car at Louvia to save weight. Pulvera’s Pride is getting a bit old, she’ll need a massive overhaul soon; especially now that we’re capable of using aluminum alloys and improved textiles.
Rumi tugged on my sleeve and pointed.
“Look,” she said. “I think it’s them.”
A faint smokestack popped up in the distance, only visible through a spyglass. We steered closer.
Then a massive explosion went off there, highlighting the fog near it. A puff of black smoke mushroomed up. I heard the blast about 3 seconds later – it was just a kilometer away.
As soon as we made it over the fleet, the view was almost clear.
Dozens of lifeboats circled the vicinity with dozens of souls aboard each. Many rafts banded together with rope. Their occupants were pleading, and alive. Hundreds of others weren’t.. as lucky.
Bodies were scattered over the surface, some had clung onto bits of debris only to lay forever still from the freezing water. Of the four steamships that Damon mentioned, only one remained.
Unmistakably, it’s an Ischyrosian Republic Ship.
No doubt it’s the IRS Theseus, specifically.
Her aged panels were mostly well-kept, but it’s a good chunk of her has been swapped out, and the decor got simplified. We announced our intent to provide aid over the propaganda speakers. Winds began picking up, so we dropped a line to her. They fastened the line, and we were anchored. We got closer using the winch, enough to lower a basket of crew and supplies down.
Tensions rose as soon as the basket landed.
Just roughly 20 cycles ago, almost 14 years past, we’d completely annihilated Theseus' sister ships. The seasoned crew – a mix of dwarves, halflings, and gnomes, carried piercing gazes for us.
Damon was busy taking a shit and by the time he finished, a small Ischyrosian team had been sent up here. He put on a thick Ischyrosian accent and explained that we’re here to help. Of the icy crew, a hooded dwarf with a red-gray beard stepped off the basket.
“So, it’s you.” the bearded man said. “Jedidiah, 13th fleet.”
He lowered his hood and shook my hand. It’s him again.
“How’s Inkunzi holding up?” he asked.
I could see the contempt in his eyes, for the past war, for the comrades he lost in this very ocean, and for the cities that were reduced to ashes. There was nothing I could say to make up for what had happened, but hopefully our efforts today wouldn’t be wasted.
“Admiral Isolus, Commander of the 1st Pulveran Brigade. Please, we must hurry for every second we waste could’ve been another life saved. And uh, Inkunzi’s doing well.”
An eerie pause, then Jed burst into boisterous laughter.
“Bah! That’s just how it is here on Mondo, ain’t it? One day you’re all killin’ each other and the next you’re all friends.”
That’s just how it is everywhere, and the opposite’s just as true. Allies one day, and genocide the next. I’m hoping that maybe someday, just maybe, we can fix that. I’m trying my best here.
“Haha.. yeah.” I responded, unsure how to.
He tightened his grip.
“Say, it’s ironic to hear you talk about saving life when you seem to be so good at getting rid of it. Ischyrosians don’t forget.”
I almost felt the sweat build up on my brow, amidst the freezing air. A faintly fleeting mist of white for every exhale. But I wasn’t going to be intimidated on my own vessel.
“Set that aside, captain.“ I replied. “I won’t ask for forgiveness, but at least let us help while we can.”
“Well now, I’m just kiddin’ lass. T’was you who yelled out about the survivors last time, yeah? 21 cycles ago.”
“Yes. I remember. Forgive the circumstances, but your grand flotilla was beaming down towards Rokmuran ships. Ships that, you had every reason to capture or destroy.”
“Hm. Fair enough. We woulda’ done worse.”
“Alright, please tell me what happened.”
“We were escortin’ a couple of merchants along with some of our own goods. Massive wave caught us in the storm. The three Rokmuran ships were so small that they just flipped and sank.”
He paused, in deep thought.
“Then those.. Jade ships, all five of them, either had some of the worst crew or the worst engines put on a vessel – each boiler popping one after another. But, old Theseus ain’t much better. With all the replaced bits, she’s half grandfather and half schoolgirl.”
We sent teams out on cabled rafts to drag back the other survivors, if they couldn’t row themselves towards us. A good number of them were wounded, or had been unable to properly dry themselves. Most of the Jade travelers were famished, and possibly stricken with disease. The handful of medical staff I brought along did their best, and a few slow-acting healing potions were given to the injured to speed up recovery. Then, a slow and raspy voice came up.
“Ah, why isn’t it Rumi, and Isolus!” a groggy voice uttered.
Old man Watari reached out to us from the bulk of survivors.
“I thought you.. already passed?” I said.
Rumi quickly embraced him, checking him for wounds.
“You bastard!” she yelled. “You didn’t say goodbye!”
“Well,” he replied with a raspy tone. “Kylin worked me to the bone. I have done my part, and found a way back to Louvia. But please, is there anything I can do to help?”
I had him work with Rumi as interpreters to sort out the Jade survivors and their needs. Then, I led a team of my best airship maintenance crew to work with the Theseus’ sailors down through the partly-flooded engine compartment. Fortunately, the airtight protective maintenance suits we have can operate underwater with slight modification. We patched up the submerged damage and siphoned out what we could. Soon, we got her running again while carrying over thrice the ship’s passenger capacity.
By the other survivors’ accounts, the other steamships had smaller over-pressurized engines. Unable to monitor the flooded instruments, their boilers went out of control and detonated. This caused their ships to shatter; much like how some of the Ischyrosian ships did when struck by torpedoes dead-center long ago. All of the five Jade ships belonged to the Serpent State, under Kylin.
Still, of the estimated two thousand survivors, less than half of them were rallied aboard the Theseus. We didn’t expect only one ship to have survived, and if only we got here sooner we might’ve been able to save the other ships and their passengers. Yet some of those we managed to pick up, died hours later anyway. Damn.
It’s hardly a surprise Kylin commissioned such faulty engines and poorly-designed vessels. They’re initially cheaper, after all.
A thousand uneaten breakfasts.
Now, the Theseus’ engine is on its last legs. We’ll take perhaps a week to return – but some of Wiremu’s kind arrived after hearing the blasts. They brought a massive whale-like creature; one of their sacred Tohoras. This alarmed the Ischyrosian and Jade crews who were accustomed to hunting them, but their somber silence had a tinge of conflict as the Tohora was rigged to tow the ship.
While we worked on repairs, the merfolk asked if there was a way they could help while waiting. I requested them to seek more survivors, and they did despite nobody else left on the surface. They found four survivors alive in an air pocket of one of the small merchant vessels. A frightened and frantic bunch.
I changed priorities and worked with some of my engineers to prepare a few suits for even deeper diving. We weren’t sure they’d hold up at the required depths. The most critical parts were the helmet and air tanks. I wired them up into the intercom so we could communicate with the survivors.
We sought for the best swimmers amongst my air crew, and three stepped forth to volunteer. It was Rumi, and two cadets Koralo and Nikolao. The pair of young men were confident after I said they’d get a raise and two weeks of leave. Rumi’s spent ages training to overcome her fear of water ever since that last battle here.
“Wait, are you sure?” I asked her. “Aren’t you still..”
She leaned closer for a whisper. “I’ll do it for that raise.”
“That’s besides the point. Be careful.”
She’s adamant on heroics today, so alright. I trust her. The dive team consists of some merfolk, and our crewmembers in modified suits. If anything fails, they’d escort my crew back up. I got another team to build a makeshift diving bell from a deconstructed aircraft fuselage, just in case. Soon the team reached the survivors’ wreck. Rumi reported that their seals were intact and her suit was fine. She shined a light onto them.
“They’re fighting! Hold on, we have two men with Rokmuran accents kicking down an Ischyrosian sailor near a Jade lady. We’re breaking it up now. The shaking woman has a knife, please advise.”
Rumi de-escalated the situation and talked them into wearing the suits for a chance of survival. We kept them calm through the intercom, as the air supply eased their hypoxia and carbon dioxide toxicity. We had no depth gauges so we used a cable to guide them up to where they’re to make short decompression stops. Watari interpreted our instructions for the Jade lady, named Hyotchul.
I spoke on the intercom. “Stick to the plan. Check each seal three times true, so death doesn’t come for you. See you guys soon.”
Others murmured of dredging up monsters, or worse. Nobody had ever been rescued from the depths before. Only the merfolk were familiar with decompression sickness, or ‘the bends’.
After about half an hour, they safely finished their last stop and reached the surface. Cheers erupted as we carefully hauled them onto the Theseus to be checked. Ischyrosians embraced their bruised brother, Yiorgos – who I’m going to call George. Through George and Hyotchul’s testimonies, we found that the merchants began having ill intentions and George tried to stop them. I did my best to keep the others from killing the two Rokmurans, and we managed to break the riot apart after promising they’d be dealt with appropriately.
Theseus limped back to Louvia, where only a handful of coastal structures remained – like the ancient Louvian lighthouse which still presided over the settlement. Since then, we’ve collectively banned the hunting of Tohora. Kylin actually began the movement to ban it years ago, possibly from owing her life to Wiremu. We sent her a report of what happened and kept Watari’s presence a secret.