Iliyal took the long and slow route through the depths of the Divine Armoury, past Arascus’ section. They were inspecting the rooms as they went, there was nothing here. With Aslana in his hand, a major Divine would have to be brought in, but all the major Divines were still in Arika. Olonia stalked by his side, his men followed. The Paladins who had chased them down here were dead, the minor Divines and the mages too.
His eyes noticed something.
He circled his flashlight along the walls again. Next to the door leading into the God of Pride’s. He blinked. Impossible. She had been here?
Olonia stopped and flashed her own light. “Are you looking at the runes?” She asked gently. Iliyal stared at the writing on the wall. Runes? Well, they would runes to her.
“Just curious.” He said. “It wasn’t here last time.” That much was true, these had been carved into the wall by magic.
“Lubska’s national library has a collection of them that we’ve found. No one has been able to translate them though.” Olonia said quietly. Of course they wouldn’t. The only people privy to this text were Kassandora’s Legions and the leading Divines of Arascus. Not even the Weapon Divines were taught it, Malam and Kassandora had made it together, out of paranoia caused by Leona. “Can you read it?” She asked innocently.
“I can do a lot.” Iliyal lied through his teeth. “But not this, we came across it in the past. I’m just questioning why it’s here.” That was perfect. Olonia made some wordless sound of agreement as she bought the fib. Iliyal could read it perfectly.
‘I have escaped to the Dwarven Underkingdoms. Malam is with me.’ And there, at the bottom, it was signed. ‘Irinika.’
Fortia stood in her command tent, tables covered with maps and counters, radios and screens all fixed onto some skeletal structure of steel pipes built to support them. She felt her legs start to quiver and shake as if the whole world was about to collapse. She stared at that screen and she looked at the man who had just rushed in. Olympiada attacked? How? When? Olympiada had tens of thousands of warriors on it, thousands of deities, with mages to match. It was so huge that a single army wouldn’t be even be enough to siege it. Kassandora’s Great War Legions could do it, but they numbered into the hundred-thousands.
She wouldn’t have allowed a force that large to sneak through. Maisara wouldn’t. Even Elassa would have kept track. And the ships needed to move such a force? Kassandora’s airforce wasn’t large enough to transport troops like that, and it was still in Kirinyaa. Her own estimates said she only had about twenty planes at her disposal, even doubled, it wouldn’t be enough. Even tripled.
And Olympiada was attacked? HOW!?
She sighed. Setbacks do happen in war, that’s one thing Kassandora always said. Anyone who would be defeated by a single setback was not fit to stand on the battlefield. Fucking Kassandora herself had just spend a thousand years in prison and look at her now! Fortia sighed and let things settle. Olympiada attacked. That could be recovered from. Frankly, how bad could the damage be? A few burnt buildings?
Oh. That made sense. It must have been a bombing run. Fortia smiled as her eyes went to the screen. Elassa’s Worldbreaking had been stopped. At first, she had been panicking but the attack on Olympiada had brought her down back into reality. There was no chance, absolutely zero, no chance at all, that Elassa had been stopped after she started Worldbreaking. With Fer, with Anassa, even if Arascus and Irinika were there themselves, they wouldn’t have the power to stop it.
A bombing run as one last attempt to do some damage before Kassandora died. That made sense. That was exactly like Kass too.
Fortia leaned back and breathed a sigh of relief.
And another Guardian, in a brown shirt and shorts, ran into the room.
Iliyal entered the room that had the breach into the Divine Armoury. The entire place had been looted for a while now. But he wasn’t coming back empty-handed. Aslana was in his hand. Stalker held Labrys, the Goddess of the Axe stared ahead with hungry eyes. Baker was on the other side, with Pridwen in his arm, holding up the God of Shields.
He was bringing these back, but more than that. Irinika and Malam were located. All eight daughters had been found.
He kicked the door open. Could this day get any better? He lifted Aslana as Stalker raced forwards. The man holding Bess took a knee and aimed the musket, several other muskets materialized in the air around him. There were a dozen Paladins around the breach.
The man pulled Bess’ trigger and all the muskets fired.
There had been a dozen Paladins.
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“DRAYIM FORTRESS HAS FALLEN!” The man shouted, then drew a salute, then dismissed himself. Fortia blinked as her sudden courage crumbled away. It cracked like a dam and dread flooded her once again. The man wouldn’t know what lay under Drayim, but she did. She and Maisara and Allasaria had all ventured into that ancient underground fortress that lay under Drayim.
Worldbreaking. Olympiada. Drayim. One was a disaster, two was the final spasm of Kassandora’s rage. Three though? Three was far too organized. “It’s fallen?” Fortia said. “Drayim has fallen? Not been attacked, not under siege? You’re saying Drayim is fallen?”
The man nodded slowly and swallowed. “Reports are still coming in but…” He took a deep breath. “God Waramunt is confirmed to be dead. Goddess Olonia is part of the attack. The report said that they breached inside and that no one has come out yet.” Fortia grabbed the back of her chair to balance. Olonia was in on it? How? If it was Olonia, then that meant Lubska had just effectively declared war on the Pantheon.
A war in Epa would be the end of the Pantheon. A defeat in Kirinyaa could be salvaged, they could retreat, Kirinyaa could be put back under sanctions, they would drain the nation as had been the first plan before the invasion. At the end of the day, the most powerful army was the world economy, and the White Pantheon still ran that.
But Epa did not even have to win its war. Simply moving White Pantheon troops against the Epans would be enough to destroy any legitimacy the White Pantheon had. That was all it had now frankly, since it’s image of invincibility had been all but wiped away with this humiliation in Kirinyaa. “Are there survivors?” Fortia asked.
The man shook his head. “I don’t know. The report came from reinforcements from nearby Paladin strongholds.” Fortia sighed. So none. Maisara would not be happy that her Epan Headquarters had been attacked, the entire western flank would have to be called into a retreat before she went into a rage and ordered a full offensive onto the coastal cities.
Neneria stood in the main hall of Allasaria’s palace. Huge marble pillars to either side, Allasaria’s own White-Gold banners hanging next to the Pantheon ones of the same colours but different designs, and the dead around her feet. There was the beating of footsteps, boots on stone tiles from the elves, and the flicking and rustling of paper. Pick up would be coming soon but while they were here, they may as well make themselves useful.
Allasaria always considered herself a little author. It was time to find out exactly what secrets she was silly enough to share with loose-lipped books.
Fortia knew it would come. The little wave of hope had been utterly crushed when she heard about the assault on Drayim. Now the Sun was rising, reports were coming in. From Olympiada and from Drayim. And from Kassandora’s main base. And not a single one of those reports said anything good.
Olympiada: bombed. The chaos of the bombing had only been a smokescreen to drop Neneria onto the mountain. So Fortia knew what Olympiada would look like. It was large enough that a few survivors may still be there but… she shook her head. It would only be a few, if any. The White Pantheon would need to recover and repopulate Olympiada after that. The Dead Legion would grow, Neneria would most swallow the souls of at least a few Divines.
Fortia did not know why the thought hadn’t even passed her mind. Olympiada was only a few hours from Arcadia, the land of mages. Olympiada was the home of the White Pantheon. Olympiada had a thousand deities and countless Orders situated on it. Who on this precious world, who in their right mind, would ever even have the idea of attacking Olympiada?
Fortia could just see Kassandora looming over her. A terrible dark spectre always ten steps ahead. It was a testament to the woman’s skill that she made a war against Leona last a century.
Drayim: devasted. The fortress set alight on the way out, the reinforcements that had been sent over had been slaughtered. They didn’t even put up a fight. They wouldn’t put up a fight. Fortia didn’t even need confirmation that the Weapon Incarnations had been freed, she all but had it already in her report: Iliyal Tremali was spotted leading the assault.
Fortia had no damn clue why this thought hadn’t passed her mind either. Drayim Fortress was unassailable or so Maisara said, the Divine Armoury had been written out of history, it should have been impossible to find. What references to it even existed apart from passing comments about how it was Arascus’ store-room once?
Fortia could just see Kassandora looming over her. That elf by her side. He was old enough to remember, if he had gotten inside, then there wasn’t the slightest shred of hope that it was just a random attack. If he had gotten inside, then the Weapon Incarnations were free. The loss of the reinforcements confirmed that too.
And now Fortia stared at the image that had just come through. They had sent a pack of drones. Kassandora didn’t even bother shooting them down, nor did Anassa. And she stared at the image that one of them sent. Kassandora’s base flowering with green leaves, the great ravines left by world-breaking filled in by the roots of Iniri’s trees. Ash all around the base, and Fer staring up at the drone. The Goddess of Beasthood was smiling as if she was looking at Fortia herself, that smile knowing and taunting.
So Elassa had been lost. This thought had at least crossed her mind, she could admit that. But it had come too late, the warnings weren’t enough. She should have rang earlier. But somehow, she had been stopped. So it was over. Forty thousand mages and the Goddess of Magic, gone. Gone just like that, whatever advantage Fortia’s army thanks to the magicians had disappeared last night.
And without magicians, the technological gap could not be simply ignored. It was too great at this point, new reinforcements from Arcadia would reduce to a mere trickle without a veteran mage, and Elassa had been the only veteran mage left. Now, it had truly become a place for theorists and book-keepers and little else.
“Bring me a piece of paper.” Fortia said out loud, to no one in particular. Someone had to call the shots here, Allasaria was still missing, it wouldn’t be her. And if it wasn’t going to be Allasaria, then who? Fortia was leading this war, so it should be her.
Someone had to call the shots. Someone had to be responsible. Losses had to be cut eventually otherwise they would keep piling and piling up until nothing remained of the White Pantheon. Better to sacrifice the wounded arm than to let disease spread into the rest of the body. She stared at the paper as someone gave her a pen. It was over. It had be written down. It would be a humiliation, but a humiliation was better than total annihilation. She put pen to paper. It was one of the hardest letters she had ever written. And one of the shortest.
I am ordering a full-retreat.
We have lost.
- - - End of Arc 6: The First Kirinyaan War - - -