Victory has nothing to do with the cities you capture, the battles you win, or the men you kill.
Victory only means that your opponent has lost the will to fight.
- Excerpt from ‘The Philosophy of War’, written by Goddess Kassandora, of War.
Iliyal prowled throughout the camp of the Lubskan Army as he watched helicopters in the air. Olonia, Saksma and Paida were all coming back from a mission. Aliana had been forcefully recalled from sitting on her ass in Allia and now was tasked with assistance on the Rilian front. Iliyal mused as he looked around them camp, they were located near Kaczaw. The city was a major logistical hub, it didn’t serve as a major artery like any of the Doschian cities where all the traffic passed through, but it was the largest urban area before the frontlines began. If a bullet was going to enter a Paladin, if a bandage was going to be wrapped on a Coalition soldier, if a another batch of fresh meat was going to be sent into the meat grinder on the Lubskan Front, then there was a seventy percent chance it would pass through Kaczaw first.
So the city had to be fortified. Naturally, the Epans had not done it before they declared their war. That was an amateurish mistake, although those mistakes were why Iliyal was here after all. To fix them and pay whatever price necessary. War charged in blood, the Epan leadership was too weak-willed to pay, so Iliyal would handle all the transactions.
And even though the man was here to lead. He may as well make himself useful to Arascus. Winning the war for Epa was just a stepping stone on the long march to final victory after all. Iliyal turned and looked over at the various elves he had made into his leadership. Elves always made for good commanders, they lacked the rashness, they had a baseline level of competent intelligence, and most importantly, elves were an investment: finding an elf loyal to an Epan country was about as common as finding a sorcerer who didn’t look down on people. They may serve under banners, and they would serve well, but the colour of the manner rarely mattered to those of a race whose parents, grandparents at the worst, lived through the founding of the banners nations they lived in.
Iliyal gave the camp one final look as he saw his captains return. All tall and straw-blonde, with pointed ears and long rifles designed specifically for elven hands. They were a larger calibre too. Iliyal had gotten to shoot one and had already sent the design off to Kirinyaa: He wanted one. Same with the Doschian Panzers and the Rancais Mirage Fighters. No one asked questions, after all, why would they? Iliyal was merely inspecting designs in order to make sure they were up to his standards, how could he be sending men off in inadequate vehicles? No one even knew the fact he was copying each and every one of them by hand and sending them back to Kirinyaa.
One more glance at the nicely arranged tents. Kassandora’s standard camp design, it was the most effective, with tents in tight blocks around campfires to build camaraderie and wide central roads to allow throughput of movement. And he looked over the elven captains: Aryon, from Doschia, a man who had only joined up after he heard the news that Iliyal was here. Apparently, his great-grandfather served in Kassandora’s Legions. Menith, almost five hundred years of age. His grandfather served as a Captain back then. Beryon and Alinth, both quite young, only eighty and one-twenty respectively. But both were intelligent, both were highly educated and both had grown disillusioned with the Pantheon. They would though, young souls always reached too high for their own good. All four looked as every elf did, handsome and tall. Beryon and Alinth both had long hair that fell down their back, Aryon and Menith cut theirs short. And from their expressions, they obviously weren’t bringing good news.
Menith spoke first, elves usually segregated their hierarchy through age and nothing else. But then the man had two hundred years on Aryon, and more than four hundred on Beryon and Alinth. Iliyal had hated the system when he was young, now that he was older than even Divines, he had nothing bad to say about it. “Olonia is on the way back from Operation Sweep. Saksma has reported she is still waiting for transport, but she’s finished too. Paida is in the same boat.”
That was news. It wasn’t bad news, it wasn’t particularly good news either, but it didn’t warrant the dour expressions on the four Captains. Iliyal said as much. “So what is the problem?” A few of the soldiers burst out in laughter as one of them tripped and planted his face on the ground.
“We…” Menith fell silent, coughed and went on. “Wissel Ellenheim and President Jozef of Lubska are coming here.” Iliyal did not blink, in fact, he wanted to smile and cackle in laughter. Wissel and Jozef coming here? What a treat!
“I see.” Iliyal let the captains go inside to draft battle plans. He did not particularly care if they made anything of value, he already had his own prepared. Neither did he care about the time when Olonia arrived and came to stand besides him. She reported her victory, Iliyal recorded it, and told her to wait. It was the same with Saksma, who jumped out of her helicopter and smashed into the ground as if she was impersonating Fer. But Fer would have not needed the vehicle to come so close to the ground, nor would she have needed those minutes of recovery. Paida merely waited patiently in her helicopter, she waited for it to land, and she met up with Iliyal as he was chatting with other two Epan Goddesses.
And Iliyal chatted with Paida, Saksma and Olonia. About the war, about what they thought of the Pantheon, about what they thought of Iliyal himself. And then about less important things, about what sort of drinks they liked, about what movies they watched and about what games they played. Iliyal merely amused the three Goddess until he saw two of the Epan leaders approach him. Wissel Ellenheim, in a pristine black suit with a cape and a small crown, and president Jozef of Lubska, dressed entirely like a businessman. Iliyal was about to greet them, but Wissel beat him to it as the Goddesses watched the interaction curiosity. They would need to be called on slowly, they would need to be made to feel as if they were making their own decisions. Iliyal opened his mouth but Wissel was faster.
“Iliyal Tremali!” Wissel shouted from across the distance. That was one way to make an impression, it was just a shame that the man didn’t know how to work soldiers. Shouting like this may work well on civilians, but soldiers would simply scowl at the bypassing of hierarchy. “I was just waiting to meet you!”
Iliyal smiled at them. “What for?”
“About what you’re doing here in the first place!” Wissel said.
Jozef quickly came in to support his fellow ruler. Too bad they were heading down the wrong avenue of attack. “I never gave you permission to attach yourself to the Lubskan army.”
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“Jozef, Wissel, both of you embarrass yourself.” If there was one thing that maintained morale, it was seeing outsiders trying to get their sneaky fingers into the leadership. If there was one thing that made a leader instantly liked, it was seeing them stop a coup. It really was common sense, when a man saw a strong horse and a weak horse, by nature he would like the strong horse. And there was nothing that spoke of strength like benevolent magnanimity. Iliyal gave them the way out, he purposefully phrased it so they wouldn’t accept. “Come inside, I will not explain your failures before the men.”
Wissel narrowed his eyes. The man was smart, that was true, but he wasn’t a genius. The man could fancy himself to be Arascus any day of the week, but Arascus would have not brought Jozef here. “Iliyal Tremali, it is you who embarrass yourself. We did not ask for your help in this matter, did we?”
What a terrible reply. Maybe it would serve in some argument between individuals, but Iliyal rarely argued for enjoyment anymore. Arguments and debates had nothing with convincing the opponent, that was what children thought. Arguments and debates were about convincing the crowd to devour the other party. “Where is your combat experience? Where are your officer schools? What is your doctrine? Your organizational structure?” Iliyal knew neither of them would have a reply, he raised his voice. “The fact you didn’t ask for me is not some grand indictment of treachery on my behalf. It is a simple confirmation you have no idea what you are doing.” That was for those two, now something that the men pretending not to listen in would understand. “It is like a child baking a cake without any eggs. That is how little idea you have on this topic. Tell me, do you really think you can defeat Maisara alone? Do you think you can defeat Maisara and Fortia both?”
Wissel and Jozef shared a look. Of course they couldn’t, of course they were trying to think of some smarmy reply. Of course, they failed at it. Wissel stepped forwards. “This is a matter of principal, we do not fight for a free Epa only to be made servants of Arascus. We fight for a free Epa in order to fulfil our own destinies.” Iliyal only rolled his eyes. How many times have idealists talked to him of destiny before?
“If you wish to have destinies, then you need to win a war first.” Iliyal replied loudly enough for everyone to hear. This was the issue with idealists, they faltered when faced with cold, harsh, realistic pragmatism.
“This isn’t you issue to decide Iliyal!” Jozef came into the conversation. Why? Iliyal did not know. Wissel was challenging to crack, but Jozef was the complete opposite. Maybe it was because it was his land getting invaded. Maybe it was because it was his army getting usurped. Maybe it was because it was his Goddess who was losing allegiance.
Iliyal saw the opening immediately. He saw Olonia, Saksma and Paida all watching the argument, all casting wary gazes at the two men who had come to argue. They were on Iliyal’s side, the elf did not even need to ask to confirm. “Whose is it then?” Iliyal set the trap, it was obvious, but there was only one answer at this point.
“It is the armed forces of Lubska! It has no affiliation! I only represent it because I am the President of this country!” Jozef shouted. That was a good reply, Iliyal could almost respect it, almost.
Unfortunately, the man had exposed his flank for an assault. A good one at that. Iliyal only had to ask the question: “So if you only represent it, who does the army belong to?”
Wissel came in to defend his compatriot. “The military is shared, it belongs to no one in particular, yet everyone at the same time.” Iliyal responded with his own blow as Olonia, Saksma and Paida watched. Those three obviously did not like being left out of the conversation.
“So who makes the decisions then?” Iliyal asked. They had left this gap open for themselves. “Do not argue in platitudes, who is in charge here Wissel?”
“I am.” Wissel responded confidently. Iliyal tried to contain his smile. There was only so winning he could take in one day. Olonia took a step forwards. In between Iliyal and President Jozef and King Wissel Ellenheim. Both of them looked up at the Goddess in surprise as she stared down at them. Iliyal didn’t say anything, he didn’t even so much as move. He had told them not to argue outside, they had still done it. Like a child falling off a log after being warned not to trip, it was their wound to bear. Saksma followed Olonia. Paida saw her two friends, and she stepped forwards too.
Three giants, clad in armour damaged by bullets, their weapons sheathed, their hairs dirty with mud and blood. Iliyal maintained his lack of expression as he stared into Wissel’s and Jozef’s eyes. Check and mate. It was their own fault they had come here. If they wanted to be rid of him, they should have withdrawn support from the armies until he left. But then, they weren’t like the scheming aristocrats of old, who would immediately jump to sending the greatest of generals off on suicide defences simply to eliminate the potential of losing their positions. Children in warfare, children in politics, children surrounded by children, now Iliyal had come to show them what an adult acted like. “This is not your army.” Olonia said loudly, her white hair shimmering like snow.
Jozef blinked as Wissel sighed. Iliyal let out his breath. It was over, Jozef had lost, maybe Goddess Kassandora or Arascus himself would see a way out from here, but even Iliyal could not. “Well it’s not Tremali’s either! Is it?” Iliyal maintained his expression, he at least would have managed to salvage it in some way, not dig the hole deeper.
Olonia had the perfect reply ready. “It is mine.”
“Olonia!” Jozef shouted. “The…” He trailed off as Wissel put his hand on the man’s shoulder and shook his head.
Paida came in to back up her friend. “It is Lubska’s army, Olonia has more of a right to it than any of you.” Iliyal allowed himself a smile. Paida had always been the smartest of them all. Olonia was rash and fast and decisive, Saksma was argumentative and arrogant and confident, but Paida, seemingly always so polite, lived up to the ancient reputation of old Rancais scheming nobility. Paida smacked her own plate armour, riddled with dents from where she had been shot at. “I do not see you going into the line of fire.”
Maybe everyone else would have missed it, but Iliyal caught it. It was a simple thing, an odd movement with her hand, over in a second, Iliyal had caught onto it before but this made it definite. They did use some sort of sign language in between themselves. If his prediction was correct, then Saksma should step in.
Saksma did indeed step in. “Wissel Ellenheim!” Saksma shouted. Iliyal smiled, true, the woman was the Goddess of Doschia, so naturally she should target Wissel, but the elf doubted she was targeting the mastermind of the Epan Coalition. “It is the same for us!”
Oh Saksma. Precious Saksma, never to be outdone by another, the only who wielded a greatsword, the only who had stepped up to challenge Neneria and Anassa back in Arika. “Logistics, production, supply of armaments is your demesne, I do not impose on how you should run your factories. But the front lines, those are mine.”
Olonia finished them off. “Iliyal Tremali stays. Unless you know of a man who has faced Fortia and Maisara and lived to tell the tale, unless he was also trained by the Goddess of War, Kassandora herself, unless he has ties to the only other faction in this entire world who would even think of a potential alliance with us, General.” Iliyal smiled at the fact she used his title. “Iliyal Tremali stays.”
And the coup-de-grace was Olonia turning to the crowd of soldiers. “If anyone is aware of such a man, then I welcome the name to be put forth, but it is Iliyal’s tactics which have stalled Maisara in the South West, it is Iliyal’s tactics that have ensured we cleared out Maisara’s castles in the North, it is because of Iliyal’s tactics that the Paladins are not within seeing distance of Zawitz right now! Until then, the army is mine and Iliyal assists with the strategy, nothing more and nothing less! We are going up against the White Pantheon, it is not time to play petty politics.” The crowd only cheered Olonia’s name.
And as Iliyal looked into Wissel’s eyes, he knew the man was the only one bar himself who realised what had just happened: Olonia had just usurped the military out of the government’s control.