I sat in my chair at the bridge of the Camelot while our airship floated above the ruined city, right atop the smoldering ruins and the burning pyres where my soldiers were burning the fallen bodies. The first light, the golden glow of dawn, struggled to penetrate the thick smoke columns rising from below us from the dozens of black holes. If there were anyone around us in a ten-kilometer radius, they would know what happened here without ever coming close, only watching the color of death rise to the sky. For now, stepping outside was a challenge as the acrid scent of charred wood and scorched flesh permeated everything, even at this altitude, carried far and wide by the strong morning winds. Luna already complained about it… but for me, it was a familiar smell, bringing back memories I hadn’t thought about for decades. In my first deployment… I did feel sick from it. Now? I barely registered the smell.
Instead, it told me that our victory was absolute. It was easier than Oleg expected, and I was also anticipating some kind of big retaliation from Barth. Yet that never came, even though we were constantly scanning the battlefield, ready to jam his spell. But no, nothing. He went down effortlessly, and Major Pion thwarted his last try at self-destruction. We… didn’t lose anybody. There were no reports of any significant injuries, only superficial ones, which came from the fact that some of the explosions caused a chain reaction, catching a few of our squads off guard.
Shaking my thoughts away, I took a deep breath, gripping the armrest as the first reports arrived. General Oleg approached firmly, wearing his most serious expression. His heavy steps echoing on the polished steel floor made me smile as I recalled how he was when he accompanied me for my first trip into a poor, shit-smelling town. Now... Here we were… attacking Ishillia. On an Airship. One that we built. Even I wouldn't have believed it back then. I watched as he saluted briefly, blinking his eyes after seeing my smile before handing over a compiled report, letting himself smile, too, feeling proud of our victory.
“The city is in our hands, my Sovereign,” He exclaimed, his voice deep but excited. “I mean… what was left of it. Nonetheless, we are still sweeping it for survivors. There are still some stubborn rats hiding in the rubble. Usually, officers who had gone mad.”
“I guessed as much.” I nodded, looking at the slate.
My Knights had performed their duty with perfect efficiency. Even Yuri kept to the plan and didn’t deviate from it. Thanks to our complete encirclement, the enemy forces were all but annihilated. Over five thousand soldiers had fallen just within the city, either to the might of the mechs’ bombardments or under the relentless advance of my soldiers. The defensive formations they built up crumbled far faster than anticipated, and the battle had turned into an execution rather than a prolonged engagement, all but finished by morning.
“And the prisoners?” I asked, my voice calm as I flipped to the second page.
“Around twelve thousand captured,” Oleg replied. “Mostly common soldiers or simple folk who threw down their weapons once it became clear they had no hope or were in the outside encampment… The one we bombarded from the Camelot. There are a few hundred officers amongst them as well. No sign of their high command; those… should have been in the city. Dead.”
“Mages?” My gaze flicked up from the slate. “Besides Barth?”
“Dead,” Oleg confirmed. “We found signs of two others, but they were dead by the time we actually located them. As for what killed them… it is hard to say. It could be their connection to Barth or simply getting caught in the assault. One was indeed found under a burnt down home, charred...”
“I see…” I exhaled slowly, noting that it seemed that Ishillia was running out of mages if there were only two accompanying our main target. With Barth’s death, Ishillia’s magical prison was broken, and I had already received news from Elliot that they were advancing on the border.
“Should we dispatch troops?” Oleg asked, making me think for a moment before nodding.
“Send the Valiant and a handful of our soldiers and a squad of howitzers towards the North. From Pion’s report, at least what he found after searching Barth’s room, more than half of his army was directed towards the east. They did take our bait... The remaining muscle he had was gathered here and at the nearby main crossing points to and from the Silver Region. Mirian will encounter them, and I want minimal losses before our armies merge. We need everybody for the assault of the Capital.”
“Understood!” Oleg saluted, already turning to issue orders and execute my will when I added another directive.
“Tell our pilots it's time to fly. Send them all out. They should skirt the surrounding land and try to find any Ishillian encampments or separated troops. Relay the information to our and Mirian’s armies so they can find them and finish them off!”
“It shall be done, My Sovereign!”
While he left, I turned back to the papers in my hand. The figures painted a grim but necessary picture. There were civilian casualties. And they were high. Many had been caught in the collateral damage, unable to flee before the battle began, something that would count as an apparent war crime in my old world. But war is ugly. The best we can do is to end it quickly, and I would trust my soldiers’ training that they wouldn’t go and massacre regular people willingly.
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“Haaah…” I sighed, looking at Kustov, who had now come up to me and was replacing Oleg as my general was busy with my orders. “What’s the status of the remaining structures within the city?”
“The outer districts are completely devastated,” Kustov answered with a salute, his voice betraying no emotion whatsoever. “The initial bombardment and the Rook’s cannons reduced most of it to rubble. Not to mention our cannons. Fires are still burning in some sectors, but they should die out within the next few hours. The central district fared slightly better, but there’s heavy damage to nearly all major structures. The fortress…” Kustov hesitated, rubbing his chin. “Or what remains of it is no longer defensible. The walls were torn down by the second salvo from the Rook and the Lion.”
“I see.” I hummed as I nodded my head. That was expected. All in all, this city was no longer livable. It will be abandoned and probably turn into a hotbed of bandit activity. Well… that will be up to Mirian to solve after she sits back on the throne of the Empire.
“What of our own damages?” I asked, simply out of formality.
“Minimal,” Kustov answered swiftly. “Our Knights only took minor damages, mostly from debris and by crashing through buildings. None of the mechs were really harmed, though some will need surface-level repairs.”
“That can wait. They don’t need to look pristine; they are war machines, after all.”
“Yes…” He nodded, finally smiling, “The ground forces suffered some injuries from sudden explosive reactions or last-minute ambushes while dealing with surrendering forces, but the numbers are insignificant.”
Yes, just as in the report, I thought as I set the document aside. Our forces had proven their superiority yet again. The mission was an overwhelming success. And yet, I remained aboard the Camelot, staring down at the shattered remains of the ravaged city rather than walking its streets. I wanted to see it for myself…
“My Sovereign,” Oleg seemed to sense my thoughts as he returned, his voice warning me. “I must advise against descending just yet. We are still securing the deeper levels of the fortress and combing through the ruins for any remaining threats. There may still be saboteurs hiding among the wreckage, and we haven’t cleared all possible traps. Letting you down… I can’t allow that.”
“…” I considered arguing, but I knew the wisdom in Oleg’s words and that it was the logical thing to do. Just stay still because the city was still dangerous. The enemy was broken but not completely eradicated. There could still be remnants waiting for a chance to strike at him personally. And my wives probably would kill me first if I sneaked down.
So, instead of doing that, I turned my gaze back toward the horizon, where the sun was finally beginning to rise over the charred remains of Ishillia’s first city to fall to our might.
“Begin the process of establishing our control,” I ordered. “Round up the prisoners. Any who resist are executed on the spot, understood? Those who show no resistance to our orders will be taken to the staging grounds for processing. I want reports on who among them might be of use.”
“Are we recruiting them?” Kustov asked, surprised.
“Not we. Let Mirian take a look at them. They are Ishillian soldiers; if she can persuade them, that would be good. If not, she will decide on their punishment. I for sure won’t take them back to Avalon!”
“Understood.” Oleg gave a short nod after understanding my intention. “And the civilians?”
For a moment, I was silent, thinking about my options. I knew what Oleg was asking... The city’s population had been devastated, but there were still survivors. What was to be done with them? Leave them here? With the ruins? Deport them? Put them into temporary encampments? Bring them back home, making them feel they are kidnapped? Honestly, whatever I thought about was only bad or worse. Still, something had to be done about them.
“There are no good options,” I said at last. “The war is far from over; we just started it... Gather them independently from the soldiers. Those who are fit to work will contribute while we are here by clearing the rubble and burning the bodies; the last thing we need is a disease.” I said as I met Oleg and Kustov’s gaze. “Keep the punishments to a minimum. I want order, not needless slaughter. But if anyone dares raise a hand against us, they will be made an example of. Those who cooperate give them food, care, and help they may need. We have to show them that we are here to… liberate and reinstate Mirian as the true Ishillian ruler. If we want her future Empire to be friendly to us and last longer than a cicada would, then the people need to feel she is what they need for a better life.”
“It won’t be easy, not after last night,” Oleg smirked before shaking his body and saluting. “I hear and obey, my Sovereign. I’ll see to it personally.”
“Don’t force it!” I exhaled slowly, feeling the weight of the campaign settle onto my shoulders for real. This was only the first stop. The North had begun moving, and there were still more battles to be fought. More land to be cut through and most likely more enemies to crush beneath our iron fist. Literally.
There was no turning back now, and this was a long time coming. It will only end when Pascal's corpse is burning right before my eyes.
…
….
…..
Pascal woke in the middle of the night with a stinging, burning pain in his chest and sweating. The moment his consciousness returned to reality, he knew something had happened. However, since the fall of Otto, he had made sure his mind was guarded against such a backlash… Still, the loss of another disciple felt as if part of him died, which was confirmed as they were linked to his vitality.
“Which one…” He whispered, wiping the blood dripping from his nose.
As he tried to make contact, he quickly felt Barth's disappearance, shocking him. The… North?! How can that be? He would have been less surprised if it was Lucca dying to Kadosa’s desperate last attack that could come any time. Or if Mirian launched an attack from the east, somehow catching Kiva… But… Barth?
“If they broke through…” He cursed, wanting to shout, but no noise could leave his throat. “They can arrive here before…”
He had to order Kiva to return to the Capital at once… They had been… deceived!