Leonard’s little trip had slowed her departure by a few hours, but eventually, Amelia was able to leave Lamprey Port.

The scars left behind by the Incursion were on full display as she traveled along Hetnia’s eastern coast. Blackened earth, whence nothing could grow for decades, filled her view. Where once she had found sandy beaches full of colorful fish, she now saw only still waters. The damage done by the voidlings in their quest to end all life wasn’t something that even Leonard could solve with a few spells.

Time would be needed. Nature had to cleanse these lands at its own pace. But eventually, they would get back to what they were.

Charred settlements dotted the coast, and they were harder to ignore. Amelia used her senses to sweep the area, curious to see if scavengers or brave settlers had attempted to reclaim them since the danger had passed, but not even animals crossed her shadows.

By the end of the day, she had finally left the dead zone. The first signs of life became more visible, and a sense of unease she hadn’t even noticed left her.

I’m a Champion Spirit Summoner, more than capable of turning this shithole of a duchy into a dead zone by myself, and this place still gives me the shivers. There is something deeply wrong with the Void. It’s anathema to all that lives and even to what’s dead. It’s the absolute end of all things.

The first village she found still inhabited was too sleepy to serve her purposes. Only a couple dozen people worked the fields, and even then, they lacked the collars to show their status as slaves.

Amelia observed their bustling for a few minutes, surprised despite herself that to these people, life hadn’t changed much, even with all that happened in the last few years.

The Incursion had ravaged the land. The nobles had worsened the aftermath significantly with their greed, and now there was a full-on rebellion taking place in the south. And yet, these men and women went about their day like they had before everything started.

She would have liked to observe some more, just to satisfy her curiosity, but she had a duty to fulfill, and time was tight.

The next town was larger and had a small fishing port. Amelia vanished into her shadows and entered it, crossing the walls without effort.

A situation similar to Alpar's was uncovered during her scouting. Hundreds of refugees fled the Incursion to the nearest safe settlement and never departed, having lost everything to the Void.

Amelia didn’t doubt that those she could see weren’t all of those who got away. Many would have been enslaved and sold to northern lords to work the fields at low prices, and they would have gone with it because at least it would mean having a meal to stave off the hunger.

Those left behind were the hardiest, most stubborn of the crop. Exactly what she was looking for.

----------------------------------------

It turned out that Leonard’s presence might have served as a stopper to the people’s anger. Amelia had considered the matter before but pushed it away as irrelevant. Things would happen as she wanted, or she’d make them.

Watching the people of Lucea take up arms and wash away the corrupt nobles holding them under their thumb as soon as she had proven the death of the two strongest garrison members made her rethink the matter.

It was possible that since the Hero of the Light had taken residence in Alpar, its inhabitants had subconsciously put the onus of change on him. Such an august figure would have the power to solve their problems, and if he didn’t, it was certainly beyond their means. At least, that’s what she believed they might have thought.

Lucea’s condition wasn’t significantly worse than Alpar’s. Sure, she could see more hunger in the people’s gaunt faces. Likely a result of the lack of organization among the few capable mages willing to help. It was a duty she and Old Lia had taken up in their town, and seeing the consequence of their absence was a heavy thing indeed.

Still, Amelia only had to nudge a few people to the correct conclusions. She appeared to the local leaders once to explain what was going on in the south and that while she couldn’t solve their problem for them, if the people rose up she’d be more than willing to kill the garrison Captain and the Pink Petal, the druid adventurer who so enjoyed bullying the weak.

There had been no hesitation in their agreement once an old Journeyman mage who had once met her recognized who she was.

Unauthorized content usage: if you discover this narrative on Amazon, report the violation.

The small port burned first to prevent anyone from getting on a ship and leaving, and then the mob closed in on the “noble district”.

It wasn’t much of one if Amelia was honest with herself. Its residents were little more than up-jumped peasants in the grand scheme of things, but here, the difference between them and the rest was significant enough to matter.

Leonard wouldn’t have allowed the people to tear the nobles apart with their bare hands like she did. He’d have stepped in and imposed order and justice.

Amelia was a different beast. She would never directly counter one of his orders, but he had left the handling of the Eastern campaign to her, and she would use everything available to her to win.

She only had to personally kill two more people who had managed to slip away in the chaos and were making for the more “civilized” north.

I’ll allow people to get the word to Count Pollus soon enough, but I first have to get things going. It wouldn’t do for him to get here quickly enough that I cannot set my trap.

----------------------------------------

While Volten was the end goal of her operations, Amelia was more than happy to take her time and conquer every little town on the way there.

Her numbers were swelling significantly with every advance, and by now, she had set up a way to quickly get things going everywhere.

She’d move well ahead of the haphazard army she had gathered, leaving command to a council of the few elders with some fighting experience and enough of a brain to know not to test her patience. She’d then scout the next target, observe the populace, identify the most powerful people and their allegiance, and then move to eliminate those that could pose a risk to her aims.

It turned out that dropping the severed heads of a Captain or the strongest mage around on the table of the local plotters smoothed things out significantly.

No one questioned her ability when her hands still dripped with fresh blood, and only twice did she have to call upon her shadows to intimidate the hottest heads.

People wanted desperately for things to change. They didn’t necessarily see the need to upend a system that had existed for millennia, like slavery, but they didn’t put up much resistance when she made it clear it would end.

And whatever grumbling elder objected to her taking charge of everything usually quieted down quickly enough once her army reached the gates.

In a single week, Amelia had freed four thousand slaves and gathered a host of nine thousand.

Now, of course, the level of preparation and strength was incomparably lower than the main Revolutionary Army. These people were starving for months if not years. Their only thought had been their next meal and not how to cast a better [Fireball] or to learn [Thrust].

But quantity had a quality of its own, and desperation was a strong motivator to improve.

Amelia wouldn’t say she callously sent her army to the slaughter, but she didn’t have Leonard’s seemingly infinite reserves. Though she could kill every enemy they encountered so far, doing so would have robbed her subjects of valuable experience, which she couldn’t afford.

Death was much more common on the eastern front than the southern one. A few priests joined up - she didn’t need to check to know it was Damien’s handiwork - and their presence ensured that those who got out of a battle alive would eventually be healed, but they couldn’t cast [Resurrection]. They certainly couldn’t maintain Leonard’s rate of healing, which meant temporary camps were set up with the injured and dying where their pained moans and bodily fluids wouldn’t bother the newly freed towns.

“My lady, the men are ready to march, but we have just received a runner from Mondos with some bad news," one of the elders she had conscripted came to inform her. He was a surprisingly spry old man who handled a massive greatsword with little trouble on the battlefield but who enjoyed appearing frail by wearing voluminous robes most of the time.

Amelia already knew that Count Pollus had finally started moving and had sent a few advance squads to deal with the closest rebellious towns. Still, she allowed the man the privilege of explaining to her what he thought was happening. It was important to cultivate these people, or she’d have to micromanage everything.

She already had eyes on the enemy, after all.

----------------------------------------

The shadeling had no name. It did not need one, as it was far from the power required to merit distinction from its brethren.

It slinked around the burning village, avoiding the notice of the humans running around without much effort. It had no physical eyes, but it didn’t need any, with all the fires casting shadows.

Screams pierced the night. The cries of injured and dying humans, of desperation. The shadeling cared not. It observed, cataloging how many children died and how many mothers thrust themselves on a sword’s path to fruitlessly defend them.

Following the concentration of humans, it eventually reached a wider area, where the bulk of the town’s population had been taken.

A few hundred people were huddled to the side, watching grimly as the enemy soldiers led more and more away from their hiding places.

“Let it be known that there is no mercy to be given to traitors!” A voice called for attention. The shadeling could have ignored the compulsion, but it still turned, curious to see who had led the soldiers.

“You might see men and women before you, but they are not! They are the most foul of all creatures. Saboteurs! Traitors! Vermin that eat away at the stability of the realm! They are the rot that prevents Haylich from achieving its rightful place! These are the enemies you will face! Harden your hearts, men!” The speaker finally came into sight. He was surprisingly young, dressed in an officer’s fineries and sitting astride a massive warhorse.

A shining sword hung at his side, so bright the shadeling knew it needed to avoid getting near it. The speaker had rigid features and cold blue eyes. He wore his long blonde hair in a low ponytail and looked at the assembled townspeople like they were dirt beneath his shoe.

“Now! This is the last chance you’ll get to avoid retribution! Tell me where the Hero is! Tell me now, and your family will be spared. Keep silent, and you’ll all pay!” There was no mistaking his tone. This was a man who wouldn’t bat an eye if he was ordered to slaughter innocents, much less those he considered aiding the enemy.

The locals cried out for mercy, saying they had no idea where the Hero could be. Some tried offering possible locations, but even the shadeling could tell they weren’t sure. Others outright lied. All tried to show their willingness to cooperate.

These were not the hardened ex-slaves who would do anything to prevent being collared again. They were simple men and women who had agreed to participate in the rebellion once the armies of its mistress got close enough to threaten their peace.

Most likely, they agreed with its principles, but not enough to keep their mouths shut when faced with an entire Royal Army Corp armed to the teeth.

The enemy commander believed none of them. He brought his horse to a stop before the eldest of the townspeople and waited for him to speak.

When the man repeated that he didn’t know, and his words rang with truth, the commander turned away, shaking his head.

“Kill them all.” He said, and the soldiers complied.