Chapter 067: The Ritual

Somewhere else, in the countryside of Vanvyra.

COLONEL GUNTHER VON OSTEN

Vanvyra surrendered. The tribune in charge of enemy forces wanted to keep fighting until the bitter end, so some Vanvyrian soldiers stormed his quarters and murdered him. As the Vanvyrian city council contacted us, the citizens went nuts with their disdain for Ambryxis. Most of the Ambryxian soldiers ended up lynched or went into hiding.

Saravarian left the cleaning to the local forces. Probably to avoid participating - even remotely - in the executions.

There were going to be a lot of them. Vanvyrians were yet to learn that they would have been better off if they stood alongside Ambryxis. Relatively few of the citizens were on the proscription lists of the Cult, but the freed slaves were still filled with hatred. Hatred that they had to let out.

Cult commanders lacked soldiers to defend every slave owner in the city… and even if they had enough of them, they would still probably ignore the matter.

Numerian, the crow that freed me, led me to the nearest Cult garrison, before departing who knows where. Without his help it took me three days to get back to the headquarters.

I’m beginning to understand why general Hnatiuk hates black ops work so much. I’m a godsdamned colonel! I’m not supposed to be treated like that!

***

“So, you’re back.” The general was exactly as I remembered him. Busy smoking a cigar and drinking booze, but without the tiniest sign of being drunk.

We were, once again, in the secret hideout of the cult. Bunch of caves, once used by smugglers. Now, after some changes, they served the Hand.

“Yes. Everything went according to the plan.” I reported. “The city was captured. Forces of both Ambryxis and Vanvyra in the region were annihilated. The Cult will quickly capture the fortresses still loyal to Vanvyra, as they will now know for sure that no help is coming before the snow thaws.”

“I’ll ask Saravarian and the cult officers about your performance.” He leaned back on his chair.

We both knew that I rose so fast due to nepotism. Sure, I did finish the academy (with top grades), but normally a person of my age and experience wouldn’t be allowed to command in a battle like that. But with Saravarian overseeing me, and a general properly pointing out my mistakes… and it’s not like this battle was really important, as long as we kept the enemy far from the Stone Throne.

“You were captured.” He said after a while.

“According to plan, yes.” He nodded, deep in thought.

Many upstart cult leaders called themselves prophets. A short and pretty neat word, way better than heresiarch. True mockery of the term, if you asked me. Prophets were supposed to be someone great, after all.

But the Prophetess’ name was well deserved, it seems. She got prophetic dreams, at least from time to time. We had no evidence of it being true, so we doubted her, but…

She told me that I’d be captured. That I should cooperate with the captors. And that I should walk around with a briefcase filled with sensitive documents, including the one about the Great Summoning.

The general almost had a stroke after hearing that. Can’t blame him. But the Prophetess was stalwart in her wish, and she kept insisting that it was a necessary requirement for our victory, so in the end he caved in.

Not like I really could be caught, right?

Well, she got the better of us, it seems.

“By a duo of Chosen Ones.” He looked back at me, visibly surprised. “Brother and sister. Chosen by Deviation and Overtyrant.”

“Chosen by whom?!” Yeah, I almost didn’t believe that myself. Sure, the only evidence we had was their word and the character-aligned Holy Magic. However, Gods were obviously involved in this mess, so a Chosen One being around wasn’t impossible. Plus, claiming to be one while not being chosen was about as smart and safe as pissing on a temple’s altar in the middle of the ritual. Very, very few people were stupid enough to do stuff like that. “Write a detailed report. This is above my head.”

We had procedures to deal with supernatural stuff like that. Chosen Ones were a business of the Imperial Ministry of Religious Affairs, not the Imperial Army.

“So… did I miss something?” Few days outside of our army was a pain. And I don’t even want to think what will Vhyrra say.

“We are pulling out.” What? “The Prophetess already departed to the Stone Throne. The summoning will take a few days. And when it happens, we should be a safe distance away.”

“We’re leaving? I didn’t see that coming.” I really wanted to stay. I actually started to like people from the Hand. They were decent folks. Scarred by life, and many of them had too much personal hatred for the locals. Some of them actually I’d prefer safely imprisoned, preferably before they get their hands on the families of their enemies. But most of them…

They had their hearts in the right place. I deeply respected anyone willing to take arms for a noble causes. Suicidal fools, obviously. But admirable suicidal fools.

“Well, according to Prophetess and her ‘prophetic dreams’, we are no longer required.” Really? “You getting caught and getting the Chosen Ones from the city was the last part of her plan that she didn’t really let us into.” He sighed loudly. “The Summoning will happen, and we’ve prepared the locals well enough for them to have a chance against Ambryxis. The rest is up to them. Though there is also one last thing she asked us for. This time merely asked.” He added, stressing the part.

Oh?

“And what is it?” I’m dying of curiosity here, you know?

“We are supposed to evacuate families of high ranked Cult members to the Imperium. Plus as many of the… too damaged slaves we can. The White Guard pillaged enough valuables for Prophetess to pay for their repairs.”

Oh. This is going to be fun. A hundred kilometers through enemy territory. With all those mindbroken or too extremely sculpted slaves. Requiring extensive mental repairs before being able to function in society.

Mind Magic of that magnitude wasn’t pretty, nor easy. At least a small portion was going to die outright. The rest were going to end up becoming completely different people, even if most memories were going to be left intact, with exception of those considered harmful.

This meant a lack of skills and any sort of help. Being alone in the Imperium, with most of the cities and villages being rather stalwart about taking in additional people that couldn’t work. Most of them would probably end up as slaves again, but with much less abuse.

I can’t wait to see how that mess I will end. Thankfully, it seems that I’ll see it from a safe distance.

***

Close to Stone Throne

Avhar Khan

In the end, Layla did make us travel towards the Stone Throne. Just as I expected. And just as I feared. It took us two days to get there. The route wasn’t as bad as I feared, though.

The insurgents controlled the whole area. Most of the Vanvyrian army ceased to exist. Adventuring parties either suffered the same fate, got scattered and forced to hide in the woods, or changed sides. The few groups of armed people that still remained loyal to Vanvyra were imprisoned in their fortresses and fortified villages, under siege by the Hand.

What’s more, the Cult had recently surged in numbers, taking in up to ten thousand (according to my estimates) soldiers, freed slaves and volunteers alike. It was in a state of internal chaos. It was a testament to the skills of the imperial advisors that the Cult didn’t collapse under the strain.

But it also meant that at least for a while, an armed group marching through the countryside could avoid Hand attention quite easily. All we had to do was act like we belonged to the Hand and avoid waving an Ambryxian or Vanvyrian banners.

It worked. We simply marched by two groups of freed slaves that were travelling towards the place where they were supposed to be quartered until the snow thaws, while undergoing emergency combat training. They were unruly mobs, and there were more of us, so we could win if we fought, but it would probably warn the cult leadership that something is amiss.

Instead, we pretended to be an improvised group travelling to reinforce a garrison of some faraway mountain pass. I can’t believe it worked.

We reached the village where we were quartered earlier, in the evening. Before the Hand came, it was a major village with maybe five hundred inhabitants. Around fifty of them were slaves belonging to the local lord, used to help with menial work. The rest were all free people.

Now the slaves were gone. Some joined the Hand, either hoping to liberate their still imprisoned compatriots, get revenge, or take part in pillaging the whole area. Others simply grabbed warm clothes, food, and as many valuables as they could before trying to reach the more enlightened lands.

It was quite often for many slaves to actually side with their owners during slave rebellions. It’s not like all slave-owners were abusive psychoes! In fact, most household slaves lived pretty decent lives. Ate well, didn’t have to worry about money and were considered professionals… that often were close to the ears of their masters.

The core of all slave rebellions were always the most abused slaves. Those supposed to do hard, menial work… and gladiators. Also sex slaves and those in similar circumstances, but they rarely played important roles.

Here, all of the slaves were of the menial type. Lived in squalor, were used to work on the fields, building and fixing stuff in the village. They probably never saw their owner. Had no emotional attachment to him. They were also physically fit and used to discipline. So, unlike those in the Vanvyra, here no slave decided to remain on their master’s side.

Half of the villagers disappeared as well. Most fled to who knows where, probably trying to reach Vanvyra or Ambryxis. Some simply ‘disappeared’ when the cultist took over, probably executed and buried in anonymous mass graves in the hills. Others volunteered for the cult army, either because they were secret cult sympathizers or wanted to participate in pillaging.

The rest were mostly too scared to leave their houses. Can’t blame them, really.

Unauthorized tale usage: if you spot this story on Amazon, report the violation.

There were enough abandoned houses for us to sleep under a roof for a night. We had to keep watch for the locals so that none of them could go warn the Cult, though.

We had some non-combatants in our group. A few people that were for some reason close to us decided to flee Vanvyra together. Including Vasyr’s walking sexual relief. I could scarcely believe the bravery - and madness - that was required to go around with a sex slave in the middle of a slave rebellion. Ugh.

We left all people that couldn’t be useful in combat in the village.

Aurora didn’t need sleep so I sent her for a reconnaissance immediately after we reached the village. She confirmed a cult presence in the Stone Throne. Including White Guards, prophetess personal bodyguards.

We departed early in the morning.

***

Aurora checked out the mines as well, so we knew that there was nothing happening there. After all, they had no value to the plan, and it was already a bit too late to bother yourself with mining stuff outside of the local tax collectors’ reach to finance the rebellion. She also made sure that the portal inside wasn’t active, and damage it further just in case.

We ignored the mines and stormed the castle. With Layla looking over my shoulder, and me not being able to say no to her (after all, it could end up with a civil war in our group), we had to strike with maximum power, speed and precision.

The enemy outside of the entrance was surprised and swiftly overwhelmed. There were merely two Whiteguards and an entire party of regular cultists, so with my party and some golds going in the vanguard it was a one sided combat.

We - or golds, to be exact - actually managed to slay two cultists, before the rest retreated deeper into the fortress. In an organized way.

Damn Hand. They are too good. Much better than that bastardized parody of Baptism we fought earlier. The Charitable Society (sigh) was nothing compared to it. Was that a matter of who they worshipped (Pentagram wasn’t precisely known for being organized) or a matter of imperial help?

I wasn’t even sure what God they worshipped. Did they even worship any in particular? I forgot to ask Gunther. Many cults seemed to mistake politics with theology, trying to push their political agenda (like liberating slaves) in the name of some undefined ‘gods’.

We charged inside the fortress.

***

It was a trap.

Or at least that was my first thought when I understood the true level of cult presence in the fortress. There were a lot of enemies to kill. In fact, the enemy might just outnumber us, but it was hard to guess. We were comparable in in numbers, that’s for sure.

We couldn’t risk pushing towards the dungeon before making sure that the surface wasn’t cleared. We’d be practically begging for the enemies to reorganize and attack us from the rear. So we had to clear the place.

Whiteguards and cultists were everywhere. We kept pushing forward, due to our element of surprise - which, again, proved to be a terrible threat for the defender’s of Stone Throne - but the defense kept getting fiercer and fiercer the deeper we came.

The enemy quickly got reorganized. Cultists held the ground, while Whiteguards were used to counterattack or to help the cultists disengage from combat if they were about to get wiped out.

The enemy was still less organized than in Vanvyra. Did the imperials pull out? Or maybe they simply weren’t here? Hmph.

It wasn’t long before I understood that we are going to lose. Enemy defenses kept improving as more and more cultists joined the battle. What’s more, they managed to shake off the surprise much faster than I would’ve liked. It won’t be long before they start pushing us back, and since we lack reinforcements… plus, the Ruin Elemental is obviously helping them (despite losing corporal form for a while), improving their speed of recuperation. Not on the level of a guardian deity of Vanvyra, but…

A tremor. A wave of power coming from beneath our feet. The Dungeon. Did they finish the summoning?

No. The power soon receded, but I couldn’t feel Mr. Cuddles’ magical signature anymore. But… it wasn’t replaced by the power of Agony, as I’d have expected. Normally, slaying Cuddles (shit, they have platinum-ranked warriors?!) would have ended up with Pentagram knocking on our door, but…

So, it started working. The only reason for the fact that I didn’t feel their power surging from the dungeon dimension was something replacing it. Something… bright. Covered in calming, even if metaphysical, light.

That also seemed to be… uhm… PRETTY. FUCKING. POWERFUL. It’s mithril grade. It’s AT LEAST mithril grade. But it wasn’t here fully. The destruction of Mr. Cuddles, being done by a people that wanted to summon it, and did so with the intention of it being a part of the ritual, was enough to have its influence enter Reality. But it was yet to manifest fully.

I didn’t even have to talk. My eyes meet with Layla’s. Ugh. I’d have preferred to call it a day and retreat, preferably run as fast as we could in a desperate hope that whatever’s coming (that I’m 90% sure is a powerful servile daemon of Shimmer, Imperial Goddess of Order and Sun) wouldn’t go after us. But, obviously, she wants us to make a last, desperate attempt to stop it from coming through.

I’d have her killed, but there were a ton of gold-ranked adventurers around. No way of doing it silently. And the last thing we want is Ambryxis getting suspicious. I mean, me being a Chosen One was going to be a public secret soon. If there was the tiniest suspicion that I killed a witch-hunter to AVOID fighting the daemon of the White Pantheon… then Ambryxis might have to start thinking about what exactly might be my mission as a Chosen One.

Layla surviving unscathed - and without her suspecting us of… foul play on any type - was an absolute requirement of us surviving after our return. Ambryxis was an independent (ha-ha) power in the Great Game, he would totally have a Chosen One murdered. He might piss Deviation if he did so, but he just had to make a bet that graces he would receive from her enemies (especially Tyrant) would outweigh that.

Ugh. My hatred of this bullshit mission keeps getting stronger and stronger.

Time for plan B.

***

Plan B was devised exactly with such a situation in mind. The enemies are too strong? Fine! We’ll just avoid fighting them altogether. Instead, we’ll have some of us to try slow them down, while the rest move into the dungeon to try to face the Prophetess that we believed was responsible for the whole summoning.

Of course it was a suicide mission. There was probably either a group of platinum grade adventurers or at least the Prophetess herself with a bunch of underling magicians. They were going to wipe the floor with us. I mean, they beat Cuddles, right? My party could risk facing him and survive (I doubt that we would win, we were closer to gold than platinum badges), but not in his personal dominion. That required a lot of firepower.

So, instead, the great plan was to interrupt the summoning. Reach the place - it wasn’t going to be that hard, with all the power coming from the center of the dungeon, you just had to keep going towards the thicker mana - and then fireball the summoning circle. Since it had already started, it was vulnerable to interruptions.

I mean, we just had to stop it. No way they could find another place that would fill the requirements for the summoning perfectly.

We divided our small army in two parts. Silver badges stayed back, while gold badges entered the dungeon. Silver badges were bound to get swarmed, as while they could fight equally with cultists (they were slightly weaker but more numerous), the whiteguards were out of the question.

They were supposed to buy some time. Nothing more. They should manage.

***

The dungeon was empty.

It was still an alternate dimension, but… the being that the cult was summoning has already wrestled control over it. Cuddles might have keep it at bay, at least before it manifested, but with him gone, the takeover was brief.

The Reality around was getting rewritten. Mr. Cuddles’ influence had almost faded, so no kindergarten feeling. The unknown servant of Agony still seemed to be fighting, but he was losing.

There were some of Agony’s servile daemons here and there. All of them suffering from crippling debuffs. The Reality itself was shifting into a form that couldn’t stand such disgusting beings on a most basic level. It would work the same on undead, servants of the ‘conventional’ Black Pantheon and so on. Reality under the summoned creature’s imprint was an anathema to them.

The place itself was… changed. It was still a dungeon - it started as one, and this basic logic was yet to be undermined by something. But it was no longer a place of hatred and torture. it was now well lit. Clean. With the torture implements clean and neatly placed, with the person who placed them not a deranged sadist, but a well organized perfectionist with a calm and rational approach to his job.

It was no longer a place for the torture of innocents. It was now a place of well deserved punishment to those that did evil things willingly and while knowing what sort of punishment might await them if they are caught. A place of justice and order.

Anathema to things of evil nature. Well lit. Orderly and rational. Yeah, Shimmer. Obviously. A powerful Dominion, most likely. A metaphorical grandfather - an uncorrupted one of course - of the guy we fought in the Hold’s graveyard She also had different daemons that could fit my estimates of a power level, but most of them didn’t fit the Hand’s modus operandi.

This is going to hurt.

***

We could all feel the moment the body of the child was laid to rest. Another burst of power. The area around us got even brighter, more… calming and beautiful. If we spent too much time here, we would probably have problems leaving it. With some changes to make more habitable, it would be… perfect. Too perfect. We felt at home.

Besides a few half-dead Agony daemons we encountered no enemies. Why? This should be a bastion of the Hand, filled with its most zealous members. Whiteguards and high ranked sorcerer-priests. Did I miss something?

I mean… if the people responsible for the slaying of Mr. Cuddles came from the Imperium… and the Imperium did pull out… then it’s no wonder we haven’t encountered them. But they obviously were doing something in the middle of the dungeon, so they had to be there. At least the Prophetess (I don’t think she would let it happen without her, besides she was probably the cult’s best magician).

BUT WHY IS THERE NO RESISTANCE?!

Oh. Unless it’s… oh.

Puzzles fell into place. I was far from being sure about that, and…

… we can’t move back now. Not if we really want the cult to succeed. Shit. It’s totally going to hurt. If I’m right… Ugh. We have no other choice at this point than to hope the Gods are on our sides in this. While being vigilant for other options if that’s not the case or I’m wrong.

***

We barged into the ritual room. There was a large summoning symbol of the White Pantheon on the floor. Candles. A floating ball of light above the center of it, a rift connecting the Light with the Dark, the source of the… being’s influence that it was exerting over the place. It’s almost through. I could feel it.

Two priests. Two priestesses. Ten whiteguards and ten cultists, the latter seemed to have also helped in the menial part of the ritual.

The Prophetess herself. Her robe was the only one decorated. It was also… quite scarce? She was undoubtedly beautiful, but… that’s weird for a priestess of Shimmer, she values modesty and decency.

We charged in force. My party, Layla, what remained of Vasyr’s and Lybaer’s groups, plus two whole parties of golds. Twenty people on our side, twenty five enemies. If not for the priests, we might be able to win conventionally.

Battle erupted. All priests turned out to be at least competent sorcerers. Prophetess herself used powerful Light Magic. She blinded us with a powerful flash of light above her head. Definitely a magician’s level. With her sidekicks looking at us - and herself being in the back of the room - they weren’t blinded.

Thankfully, it wasn’t exactly lethal and defensive magic worked still. A non-lethal approach was… well, as expected.

The blinding flash did slow us down. But it wasn’t around long enough to cause lasting blindness. Soon we were back in business.

The enemy was tired from the ritual. Even whiteguards seemed to contribute some mana to the ritual. They were weaker, but…

...was that really necessary? The symbol, drawing magic?

I fired several Death Bolts at the Prophetess, but they didn’t even scratch her. She responded with one of those crazy, rainbow coloured theurgies of Shimmer, that blinded me and weakened by defenses significantly.

Ok, so this isn’t a plan. If she kept firing spells like that, she would tip the balance easily. But she doesn’t… so I’m right. Most likely.

Oh dear, I hope you know what you’re doing. I totally want you to succeed, but that’s a pretty extreme thing, you know?

Whiteguards held the line despite being weakened. Priests were a major help. But cultists were overwhelmed. They began retreating, opening our golds a way closer to the Prophetess.

Exactly as planned, huh? My party, Vasyr and Lybaer engaged whiteguards, though my party pretty much simulated fighting. We don’t want to kill the good guys, right?

Golds stormed the cultists and priests together with Layla. One group with our witch-hunter went for priests, like the other golds. The other… attacked the Prophetess.

Heh. She planned it well. I give her that.

The few first strikes were stopped by her magical shield. Then it broke. And she ‘accidentally’ failed to reinforce it in time. One of golds used that and ran his sword through her abdomen.

The Prophetess smiled. Her blood dropped on the ground. Blood of a martyr, willingly spent.

The magic portal in the middle of the circle suddenly powered up. And then, something marched through it.