At last, she reached the throne room, and the guards opened the doors. Kaleria blinked for a moment at the sight of so many new faces. With their guards surrounding them, Jordia and Tim Barjoni stood side by side at a dining table.
Trade master Salamein, scion of the merchant guild in the land, was present with his son Al Quincon and daughter Tereia. The entire family was dressed in the rich green robes of the guild. Salamein had a golden necklace of his house around his pitch-black neck. His son was a mirror image of his keen-eyed father, but with smoother skin and no beard. Neither was one to miss out on anything. Tereia had a softer skin tone, more brown than black, and smiled with a honeyed smile. But Kaleria knew how deceptive that look was. Once, on a night patrol, she was summoned to a tavern where, in a drunken brawl, three members of a rival guild perished under Tereia’s poisoned dagger.
Prelate Tanjiro, currently the highest servant of the goddess Insina in the Duchy, was also present. His Holiness, prophet and leader of the church, had gone on a pilgrimage to the queen’s court and would not return for half a year, leaving the old but still strong-looking Tanjiro in charge of the church. Mannisciro, the young harbormaster, dressed in rich furs, was just finishing his report on the city’s supplies. Champion Ubion Sapon, the highest-ranking knight in the city and commander of the army, nodded in respect to Kaleria. He alone was in his onyx-colored armor, his helm on the crook of his arm, his free arm tugging at his crimson beard with a streak of white. With a cup in his hand, Kalas Sapon, son of Marcus and Hampin, heir to the Sapon house and future husband of Tereia, saluted Kaleria. Kalas was a scholar, not a fighter, but his skills as an elementalist grew with each passing day. The master of the four elements, the old and crooked Ehtioh, the city’s current elementalist leader, was preoccupied with the ruby on his finger. His helpers constantly moved around him, offering him various dishes, but the old man seemed unconcerned.
And finally, Marcus and his wife, Hampin, stood side by side near the twin thrones, chatting with the guests, charming them with jokes, but at the same time keeping an eye on what was going on in the room. In many ways, these two were Kaleria’s father and mother, Marcus, a man with a thick black beard with many white streaks, black eyes still full of energy, and an ancient crown on his now bald head. He was the most cunning of all the Sapon bloodlines. His success in arranging the marriage of Tereia and Kalas all but guaranteed that the House of Sapon would become extremely wealthy in the future, ensuring the prosperity of the bloodline. Hampin, still a young-looking woman, was one of the Duchy’s finest hunters, though lately she preferred to spend her time at her husband’s side. Marcus’ previous four wives were all of the Sapon bloodline, and all four had died in childbirth, leaving no heirs to the throne.
Hampin was from a minor noble house of the queen’s court. Marcus met her when they were both hunting a giant flesh-eating worm, a plague to peasants and a deadly danger to even experienced warriors. They saved each other’s lives and decided they liked each other enough to marry. Marcus faced fierce opposition from his subjects for marrying a minor noble. But he removed most of the vocal opposition, either by manipulating them into embarrassing themselves or by killing them outright. Sapons used everything to win, after all. After Duchess Hampin gave birth to a healthy child, Kalas, the opposition subsided, and both the Duke and Duchess successfully completed the Elementalist Trial, sealing their marriage and gaining power beyond that of ordinary abnormals. Marcus and Hampin wore purple-dyed regal fur cloaks. Of all the duchies in the kingdom, only the Sapon House was allowed to wear this color of royalty after the Sapon House won the first Great Tournament by poisoning their opponents beforehand.
“Blood of my blood! I greet you home!” Marcus said with a smile on his face, nodding to Kaleria. “Come, feast and drink with us, and tell me all about the situation at our border.”
“Spare no detail,” Hampin said. “We are all friends here.”
Kaleria bowed to her rulers and drank a cup of mead, quickly completing the tradition before telling them all she had seen and done in Ospon. She was sure that Marcus already had an idea of what was going on; otherwise, Ubion would not be present, but for some reason, Marcus wanted the others to hear about the situation.
“Dark tidings have come.” Tanjiro tugged at his short beard. “I will instruct the faithful to meet the escapees and provide calm and comfort for them.”
“Thank you for your aid, blessed one.” Hampin nodded to him with grace.
“Naturally, I will send messengers to the queen’s court as well,” Salamein said. “Such a vile attack must not go unpunished.”
“In the meantime, I will order the servants to hurry to gather supplies,” Mannisciro quickly said. “If the worst happens, we will need a surplus of food. But…” His face darkened. “We just traded quite an amount of food. This attack came at the worst time possible.” The duchy was getting most of the metal for weapons and tools from the Chigen duchy, which was covered in eternal fog. Food was hard to come by in the Chigen Duchy, so it was a profitable deal for both sides. The people of the Chigen Duchy mined ore in the mountains of their duchy. The people of the Sapon Duchy provided them with vast amounts of food.
“Night always comes before dawn,” Tanjiro scolded him in a reassuring voice. “We have faced difficulties before. We will overcome the current troubled times, just as we have overcome troubled times in the past.”
“Bah!” Ehtioh loudly inhaled the alchemical mixture that helped him keep his mind clear. “Actions speak louder than words. Thanks to the trade agreement, our armory is full of weapons. My order will redouble its efforts to enchant weapons. You will see, soon every footman and archer in the duchy will be wielding our weapons!”
“But can we really trust commoners with such weapons?” Al Quincon asked. “Enchanted weapons have belonged to the noble class since the Duchy was created.”
“Eh, no need to sweat over small things!” Ehtioh farted, not caring about his image. “I’m a commoner myself; my da and ma broke their backs working in the fields. I lost three fingers during the harvest before the Order found me. Does that make me weaker or less effective?”
“Of course not, honest master.” Tereia sweetly smiled at him. She had tried to join the Elementalists three times in vain, but each time she had failed the theoretical exam. “I am sure the Duke would be happy to accept your offer. As for myself, I would be happy to provide you with any working hands and carts if your people need help to transport the weapons to the academy and back.”
“Of course, I accept.” Ehtioh inhaled another mixture. “But this does not mean anything; you got it!? I tried eight times before I succeeded; you can try just as many times until you learn the material...” Ehtioh trailed off, saying something under his nose as his servant handed him a cup of mead.
“With the permission of my kin, I will begin raiding the enemy forces.” Ubion said, putting on his helm. “We will thin their numbers before they can reach our walls.”
“Thank you all for your support.” Marcus smiled. “Dear friends, I, of course, will accept your suggestions.”
“With all due respect, Duke Marcus.” Ambassador Jordia bowed his head. He held a glass of wine; he was the only one in the throne room crowd who preferred wine to mead. “This can only lead to countless new casualties. You are facing a modern army; your enemy has superior numbers and weapons. Although it pains me to admit it, the Reclamation Army is nothing to scoff at, their self-evident lack of air force aside. Facing them in combat would only lead to ruin.”
“These are our lands, Ambassador,” Ubion remarked. “We have faced superior technology before and won. There are other ways to deal with this invasion besides facing it head on. Ambushes...”
“Just not sufficient this time, my dear friend. The numbers and the distance between the Heaven Peak and the enemy army speak very clearly about it.” Jordia drank from the glass. “Listen, I know that not everyone here fully believes in Iterna’s intentions. This is fair; we do want to change the way of life for everyone on the planet. Anyone would be mistrustful of a person declaring such a thing. But we came as friends, so as a friend I want to help you. Let me go and negotiate with the Reclamation Army…”
“We will not surrender!” Al Quincon said.
“Did I say anything about surrender? There is more to negotiation than simply accepting the enemy’s offer. I know you have already sent messages to the queen for help. When the court knows, they will send their best warriors here. But they need time. Time is what I will give you.” Jordia smiled and went around the table. “Iterna’s name is not an empty sound for the Reclamation Army. They will have to pause, however briefly, and consider their options. What could it mean to be an Iterna diplomat working with the Sapon Duchy? While their army is stopped, your forests will work their ‘magic’ for you, dear Ubion. They will thin out the bulk of the Reclamation Army, weakening them all without you having to waste a single soldier. If we are lucky, help will arrive, forcing the Reclamation Army to turn to dialog if they wish to hold Argon. In my humble view, it will be a win-win situation.”
“What exactly is Iterna gaining here, Ambassador?” Kalas asked.
“Why, hopefully the duchy of Sapon’s eternal friendship, but of course!” The ambassador glanced at him; a coy look was in his eyes. “And maybe, just maybe, your mysterious queen will even grant us an audience. Iterna has so much to discuss with her, and so much to offer your lands.”
“Seems like a fair deal, but our queen will never grant you an audience.” Kalas smiled back at him and raised a toast. “Father, Mother. I fully support our guests’ idea. To gain by losing nothing is the best strategy to solve this... troubling situation.”
“Alas, I must decline.” Marcus raised his hand, stopping the objections of his son. “First, I cannot and will not risk the Ambassador. The Reclamation Army is full of savages; I do not trust their kind to uphold the rules of war. Second, our pride will not allow us to hide while our guests fight for us.”
“I beg you to reconsider,” Jordia bowed to the Duke with unnatural agility. “The ranks of the Reclamation Army are filled with Abnormals and empowered humans. Yes, I have seen the grace of the Knights of Sapon and will always speak highly of them, but you are currently in a situation where your enemy dwarfs you in numbers and power, and on top of that, they have access to modern weapons. This is the most difficult battle to win unless you have a weapon that can make up the difference in numbers.”
“We have no such weapon.” Marcus said, his lips curling into a smile. “But we do have something else. Tell me, how much do you know about why I am the ruler of the Sapon Duchy?”
“I am not sure I understand the question.” The ambassador bowed again. “I was under the impression that you were the heir of the former ruler.”
“Yes, but I know you have been researching our history. It is not uncommon for the Sapon House to choose an heir from the minor branches of the House to rule.” Marcus drank from his cup. “I will show you, ambassador, why exactly this is so.”
Marcus placed his cup on a table near his throne. Then he raised his hands in front of him, palms level with his eyes, hands outstretched. He made a circle in the air. As his hands moved through the air, they charted thin lines: the right hand left a red line, and the left hand left a blue line. Even from a distance, Kaleria could feel heat from the red line and a tiny bit of cold from the blue line. Marcus made a full circle in the air and lowered his hands. The lines stayed in the air, and the circle began to hum a little. A green dot appeared in the center of a perfectly formed circle. Suddenly, a flash of green light lit up the room as the green dot expanded and covered the empty space between the lines in the air.
During all of this, Tim Barjoni moved closer to Kaleria.
“Hi.” He said, scratching the back of his head with one hand, “You’ve been injured, right?”
“Just a few minor scratches. I will be fine within hours; bother yourself with this no more.” Kaleria waved her hand. “ Nice to see you too, by the way. Stay out of harm’s way; it seems a problem has come to our lands.”
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Tim had recently been involved in an expedition deep into the forest. Kaleria had no idea what he was looking for, but she and some of the guards ended up rescuing him and two of his servants when they found Tim and his servants running from carnivore lizards in the forest.
“Don’t I ever?” Tim smiled before saying. “No, don’t tell me; I know. Anyway, since we are going to be requiring your protection in the days ahead, it would only be prudent for us to be helpful as well.” He produced a long black cylinder out of his pocket. “Press it to your neck and press this button. It will help heal the wounds.”
Kaleria took the thing with two fingers, unsure if she should use it: “It doesn’t contain any of your technology? Because I don’t want any rust in my body.”
“Not in the way you think about it,” Tim quickly said, looking away briefly. “Think of it as an alchemical mixture, highly potent, that you have to inject into yourself to make it work. It will remove itself after the effect is done.”
After a brief consideration, Kaleria pressed the cylinder to her neck and pressed the button. A small needle bit into her neck and injected something cold into her bloodstream. She felt a little itch all over her body for a few seconds, but nothing else. She returned the cylinder with thanks.
“I saw the Malformed being escorted to the embassy.” She looked Tim in the eyes. “Why is that?”
“My uncle’s a bit of a softie.” The young man shrugged. “And to be honest, I could not stand by and watch children being burned alive either.”
“Foolish,” Kaleria hissed. “Listen, these creatures are little more than animals. They will slaughter you—no, even worse—if you make a single mistake. If anything looks the least bit wrong, call me immediately.”
“Now I am almost tempted to make a mistake,” Tim said with a chuckle, and then nodded. “I’m joking, of course. We have the means to contain them safely until we can transfer them to Iterna. Thank you for your concern, Kaleria.”
“Interesting display of power.” Jordia said it with respect in his voice. “But... forgive my ignorance, what exactly does it do?”
“All will be revealed in just a moment.” Marcus said, a casual smile on his face. “If you will forgive me, I must concentrate…”
The Duke’s eyes rolled to the back of his head, leaving a bloodshot white in his eyes. Marcus moved his fingers in front of the circle before him, as if searching for a book on a bookshelf.
“Ah,” the duke said it in a pleased voice. “Here is just the one.”
His fingers snapped, and the green of the circle changed to reveal the light of day, the lush green of the forest, and the burning buildings of a village. Soldiers of the Reclamation Army were busy rounding up people from the village and forcing them into a single file. A large tank, similar to the one Kaleria had seen before, was in the village, along with two smaller, less armored vehicles.
“Before thee is Vagakorg, a small village of hunters on the border of Angor. The last time I visited it, there were about eight hundred people,” the Duke said. “As you can see, mine people are currently under great pressure from the enemy.”
“How can we see it, exactly?” The ambassador asked.
“Fealty is not a meaningless concept for the Sapons. Village elders, castellans, and important nobles all require a visit to a duke, who leaves his mark on them,” Ehtioh explained, inhaling another mixture. “Once marked, the duke can see through their eyes as and when he wishes. Right now, he is watching through the eyes of the village elder. Now be silent; you are going to like the next part.”
“Flame,” the duke said, and two enemy soldiers were set aflame.
The flaming tongues whisked in reality out of nothing, licking the soldiers’ bodies, creeping under their armor, and boiling their eyes. The men began to scream, desperately trying to put out the fire, but the hungry fire continued to devour them, causing the ammunition to explode. Several of their comrades tried to help them, using fire extinguishers at the dying men, only to have the flame pierce the white veil and engulf them as well.
“Earth,” The Duke continued, unmoving.
As the grenades on the soldiers set aflame exploded, killing and injuring nearby foes, the land rose and shielded the peasants. Two light vehicles roared their engines, and the ground opened beneath them, causing them to fall. Then the crack closed, crushing the vehicles. The tank began to move, its weapons trained on the buildings and people.
“Metal. Flame,” the Duke said, and the tank flowed.
It was as if some intense heat forced the grand vehicle to melt; the people inside had no time to get away or even scream. The hull of the tank shook and ripples appeared around it. Duke Marcus’ power had manipulated the solid steel, turning it to liquid, and his mastery of flame heated that liquid. A torrent of molten metal washed over the crew, killing them in moments. One of the soldiers, a leader judging by his bulkier and heavier armor, aimed his weapon at the elder through whose eyes the Duke was looking.
“Earth,” Duke Marcus intoned, and the ground moved upward, blocking the metal projectiles coming from the enemies’ weapons. “Water,” he continued, and the enemy soldier twitched. Water, sweat, and even blood appeared, flowing from beneath his armor. The soldier choked, opened his helmet, and a stream of vomit spewed from his mouth and splattered across the ground. The officer staggered and fell face down, moving no longer.
“Tsk. So much for their bravado,” the Duke remarked, seeing how the surviving enemies began dropping their weapons and raising their hands in the air. “Ubion, I will instruct the elder what to say. Send someone to bring our prisoners to the capital.”
“As you wish, sire.” The champion bowed.
“Very impressive,” the ambassador stated. “But I would like to point out that you have not faced any Abnormals in this battle. As potent as your power is, and they are very strong, you are putting all your hopes on one man. Please, for the sake of all of us, keep yourself safe.”
“How could I not?” Marcus granted him a smile. “I am surrounded by friends, by loyal guards, and by trusted comrades. Worry not; none will reach me.”
“I see,” the ambassador said, turning to Ehtioh. “I am greatly impressed by the Duke’s power, but I did not like what I saw. Those idiots died a senseless death.”
“They came to our land,” Ehtioh angrily replied. “To kill and steal what is ours.”
“I do not dispute this. But the dead, every dead, represents lost potential. They could have lived and helped restore this world. Instead, they chose, or were led, to a path of unnecessary war.” The ambassador shook his head. “It is simply sad. My friend, I can’t stand senseless death of any kind.”
The guests soon began to return to their homes in preparation for today’s work. Kaleria returned to her mansion, gave orders to her servants, and started changing into a field dress while waiting for her new armor to arrive. Something caught the woman’s eye, and she approached a mirror to examine her body. There was no longer a scorch mark where Antoniado’s sword had struck her. A smooth skin covered the former wound, making her wonder if she had been injured to begin with.
***
“Interesting,” Outsider said, watching the video that Torturer had sent him—the one that showed his soldiers being killed by some unseen force manipulating the elements of nature. Torturer had used several groups of soldiers in raids on distant villages, hoping to force the enemy to show his hand, if the Duchy had one. Several other special groups were hidden in the nearby woods, watching over their comrades. It seemed that the Duchy had something unique to protect itself. Outsider’s long metal finger was pressed to his blackened chin as he lost himself in thought. “It would seem our enemy can work from afar.”
“Similar to an artillery. One that could hit us anywhere,” Yuria said angrily. “Unless we figure out how his power works, we would have to sneak into their capital and gut the bastard responsible for this directly.”
She and the commander were on the command bridge of the Dynast’s Will, the largest crawler in the invasion force. Its massive treads tore up vast swaths of forest as the landship entered the Living Lands, creating a new road for the armored columns behind it. The Dynast’s Will was an old and venerable beast; its hull and internal systems had been completely replaced years ago as the state prepared for the invasion. The new alloy, developed by the genius Till Ingo, was immune to the atmosphere of the Living Lands, and the crew had already grown accustomed to the all-new compartment and spacious corridor that replaced the once claustrophobic passages of the landship.
The Dynast Will had been reborn along with the First, becoming tougher and more deadly, but inexperienced at the same time. The First had been busy fighting in a vast theater of war; its divisions were evenly split among Outsiders’ champions, and the Living Lands were only one of many lands to be brought back into the fold. One of the largest operations in the history of the state was underway. And this led to some problems. The Dynast and Outsider both insisted on the invasion, worried that Iterna might bottleneck the state by forming an alliance with the locals.
Yuria understood the reason for the haste. Even as they left, the trees and greenery tried to regrow in the ruined passages the Crawler had made. The Living Lands thrived without any damage to the soil, sustained by a very rare supernatural force. The sheer potential hidden in this land was astonishing. Wood for fuel, land for farming, training grounds for troops. New Breeds, so many of them, ready to be integrated into the army. Long-lost research centers are waiting to be unearthed. In the Old World, this entire region was home to laboratories working on terraforming the Red Planet. Years of planning, years of solving the riddle of the Living Lands and its air, all culminated in this invasion. They had to beat Iterna to such a valuable region.
But the quality of this invasion left much to be desired. Even here, on the command deck, the personnel often made almost childish mistakes because they had to spread the veterans among the newly constructed crawlers and promote several operators, often against the wishes of the men. The First lacked combat training, and Yuria’s eyes flashed with indignation when she saw how the artillery crew had managed to miss the top of the hill. She held back her venom, allowing the officer in charge to explain the crawler’s quirks to the recruit. It wasn’t the artillery crew’s fault; they had been trained to operate the artillery of stationary bastions and lacked experience firing from a mobile fortress.
The commander sat on a dais in the center of the command bridge, and behind his seat stood the figure of the Royal Guard, ever ready and ever recording his every word. The seat itself was a bone throne made from the remains of the most notorious villains whose lives were ended by the commander’s hand. Slavers, raiders, murderers, cannibals, traitors, tyrants, and many others. Hundreds and hundreds of bones were broken, fused, covered in bronze, and added to the ever-growing throne. Two mighty bone horns rose to the ceiling, holding the state standard above the commander’s seat.
Yuria had always considered the damn thing a waste of valuable space, and now she felt a kind of wicked satisfaction as she watched the bronze surface begin to rust, exposing the yellowish bones. Even recycled, the oxygen of the Living Lands had wormed its way to the bridge.
“That or start wiping out the natives, as Torturer suggested,” Outsider mused. Despite the bright lights on the bridge, his figure was shrouded in shadow, only the silver lenses of his helmet burning brightly from beneath his cowl.
“Please tell me that I did not hear what you just said, sir.” Yuria’s eyes found the lenses of his helmet. Her hand moved to the plasma pistol on her belt.
If he truly plans to do what he just implied, she will end him. Outsider was the hero of this world. The one who saved the world by smashing the meteor that was about to crash into the Core Lands. Outsider, the Woe of Ravager, the only Reclaimer who managed to utterly humiliate the feisty former commander of the Third Army. Without a doubt, their excellencies, Wyrm Lord, the Vanquisher of Kings, and Devourer, the Builder of Cities, both kept a wary eye on Outsider, waiting for any weakness to usurp his position as the Dynast’s greatest champion. The first in power and the first in fame. It was a small wonder that Outsider was entrusted to the most elite forces of the state.
During the Battle of Houstad, Outsider saved Yuria’s own life. This rescue led her to join the military. First her foster father, and then she herself, had served under Mourner, the leader of the Dreaded Five, Outsider’s elite unit. Her foster father always taught his daughter to be grateful to her saviors, but if either Torturer or Outsider dared to betray the laws of the state, she would try to strike them down. But all are able to get corrupt and fall. This was the lesson the military academy had drilled into her head. Do not stand aside like the fools of the Old World and let another Extinction happen. Act! What is the point of a soldier’s life if his legacy is swept away in a nuclear flame?
Every state official was trained to respect the laws and principles of the state, even if the enemy seemed undeserving of any respect. No matter who, even the Dynast himself, anyone who dares to break the laws of war must be struck down without mercy or hesitation.
The commander turned to Yuria, and something in his gaze forced her to let go of the pistol grip. His presence was all-encompassing. Back in Houstad, she saw Ravager briefly, and the two were nothing alike. Being in the presence of the Destroyer of Monsters made people’s blood hot and sent a rush of adrenaline through the veins, spurring the loyal soldiers into action. Ravager spread a kind of wild hope wherever she went. Outsider was different; he was a black hole that sucked in the will of anyone who dared to raise a hand against him. He was a depression born out of inevitability, a fear that chained the enemies of the state and made them fall in line.
“I am weighing our options.” Outsider’s eyes dug into the Colonel General’s soul, causing her to twitch against her will. “Our goal is to reclaim this word for humanity. No sacrifice is too great for this noblest of goals. But I do admit that it is detrimental to our cause to wage a campaign of genocide while claiming that we wish to usher in a better future for humanity. No, the locals will not be harmed, except for the fools who resist us.” Outsider’s silver lenses moved away from Yuria, and she let out a breath, hating herself for such a pathetic display of weakness.
“Send a message to Torturer. I am angry with him for using our soldiers as bait. Warn him that if it happens again, he will burn at my hand. Also tell him that I will join this operation of his,” Outsider said, leaning back on his throne. Displays surrounded him, attached to the ceiling by mechanical arms. Each showed the slaughter of his soldiers by the enemy’s New Breed from a different angle. Silver lenses moved beneath the cowl, watching the video over and over, not missing the slightest detail. Torturer admitted he did not know who was doing it, but based on what they had learned in Angor, it could only be the Duke.
“But sir, we still have no clear idea about how the enemy’s power works…”
Outsider drew himself to full height, and the light died in the command center. The gleam of the gold embroidery that adorned his armor, the yellow glow of the electric lamps, the projected light from the displays, even his own silver lenses, all went dark. And there he stood, a large black figure looming over Yuria, cloaked and unmoving.
“Don’t worry, Colonel General,” Outsider told her. “I already have an idea.”