Chapter 159: Powerful Ambitions
Even without the morbid sights of the blood-covered deck, the scores of dead bodies, and the smoke billowing out of multiple cracks in the hull, Vim suspected his mood would still have darkened the moment his second-in-command, Senior-Lieutenant Haisel Ragora, began catching him up to speed with all the events he’d missed during his miserable stay in the dungeons of Shadowfall Coast.
“They’ve been doing what this whole time?” he snapped, becoming absolutely consumed with a nauseating mixture of both rage and astonishment. “Say that last part again.”
Haisel replied, but the sound of F-15E Strike Eagles dropping bombs on suspected artillery sites farther inland was so loud that Vim didn’t hear it. Thus, for the third time, he demanded that the man repeat himself as more anger rose to the surface.
“They’ve been bluffing us, Vim,” Haisel said. He was standing at attention with his hands at his sides while he spoke. “All along, they had just the one weapon. It’s only now that we face the threat of a second.”
Vim felt suddenly short of breath. He grabbed a railing behind him on the upper deck of the aircraft carrier and steadied himself. “So…all this time…you mean to tell me I’ve been suffering in there for nothing?”
Haisel opened his mouth, but as though his words got caught in his throat, he released only a guttural-sounding grunt before again shuttering his lips as if deciding that the answer to Vim’s question was better left unsaid. Not that Vim actually needed to hear it to know the truth of the matter. It quickly became apparent that all of his suffering and torture had been so utterly unnecessary; even worse, had they only known this, they never would’ve pulled out of Shadowfall Coast in the first place, as they’d been on the verge of victory during their initial invasion.
This could’ve been over with weeks ago, he realized. Fucking weeks ago!
Shortly before the Guild of Gentlemen had fired their weapon, the joint coalition of the Royal Roses, the Lords of Justice, People of Virtue, the Defenders of Peace, and Children of Order had been just days or, at worst, weeks away from securing the city. But all of their progress had immediately been reversed due to that Gods-cursed weapon! Vim had turned himself in after ordering his forces to vacate the city, and everything that transpired afterwards he was only first learning about now.
“Sir Alistair Morrison is going to pay for this,” Vim said, doing his best to suppress his icy rage so that he would not end up snarling on the deck and causing those nearby to become unsettled. “But I want him taken alive. I’d like to spend a few weeks ‘entertaining’ him like he ‘entertained’ me. Yes, I’ll make sure to give him first-class treatment.”
“He’s actually calling himself ‘King Morrison’ now,” Haisel corrected. “And are you really suggesting we stoop to his level and engage in torture?”
Vim glared at Haisel. “That’s exactly what I’m suggesting! Oh, and I don’t give a damn what he's calling himself. He can call himself ‘Emperor Morrison’ for all I care. No matter what title he holds, it won’t make the pinecones I’ll be having shoved up his ass any smaller or less sharp!”
Vim wiped a bead of sweat off his forehead. The earliest rays of morning sunshine were filling the skies, and the light reminded him that he was truly free of that horrible place. The psychological damage done to him would probably take months if not years to unwind, but at least, for now, in this very moment, he could let himself exhale with relief at the brightening horizon.
I’m alive, he thought. And I’m back with my guild.
Immediately following his first-ever use of Calamity of the Stars, Vim had taken advantage of the chaos he’d caused to slip away and proceed southeast to the coastline, where he was pleased to discover that the Royal Roses had only just succeeded in capturing the beachhead, though he observed it had come at a horrible cost. Bodies had been stacked and piled on both sides, and the number of injured was staggering. Even still, his guild had managed to gain a very real foothold on land, and from there, they could soon begin to press forward and into the city itself.
Upon his arrival, Vim had noticed that smaller, amphibious boats loaded with level-1 infantry were riding up to the shore, and helmet-wearing, better-equipped troops were rushing onto the beach. This, clearly, was all thanks to the faster, mobile, and lightweight diving teams; having succeeded in their mission, they’d made it so that the Royal Roses’ more properly outfitted ground troops could now safely board the very lightly armored personnel craft and take the short ride over here without immediately being gunned down from the Guild of Gentlemen’s defensive formations.
Still, he had thought to himself, shocked by the sheer number of dead troops. We lost more than half the men and women in the diving teams.
Scattered here and there amidst the corpses, many on their bellies with their faces buried into the sand, Vim had also spotted a few leveled members of his guild, their various weapons either near their fallen bodies or, in some cases, still gripped in their hands. As Vim had taken a moment to appreciate their sacrifice, his presence had soon become observed by a single level-1 soldier of his guild—a young woman who’d released a yelp that drew the attention of others nearby. This had caused a chain reaction, and within ten seconds, scores of heads were turning his way.
“Is that…Gods, it’s him!” a level-1, rifle-wielding woman had exclaimed upon seeing him stumbling off the boardwalk and onto the beach. Initially, she’d raised her weapon and pointed it at him, but she only needed to scan his face for a quarter of a second before lowering her gun.
Her words had drawn the attention of the man next to her and then the man next to him. Before long, every soldier on the beach had become aware of his presence, and just like that, morale had simply exploded. Cheers and rapturous cries of joy had accompanied him as he’d awkwardly made his way closer to the shoreline. Hundreds of voices had been shouting out about accomplishing their “primary objective.” Up until this moment, Vim had been badly exhausted due to the Very High exertion cost of Calamity of the Stars, and yet, somehow, just by being reunited with his guild, it had restored much of his drained stamina.
“The Gods be praised from now unto eternity…Sir Alazar, you’ve returned!” a man had cried.
“So…so we actually did it?” another asked as though in a state of elated disbelief. “We rescued Sir Alazar? Gods, it’s really him!” He released a victorious scream, which caused an explosive bout of cheering from nearly all of the others. Even those who had been weeping over the corpses of friends and loved ones stopped what they were doing to stand, salute, and let their joy be known.
I mean more to them than I realized, Vim thought, suddenly feeling unworthy of such praise or adoration.
Breaking their formations, they’d all then surrounded him, level-1 troops and leveled members alike, and feeling indebted to them, Vim had taken a few moments to say a few words and offer them reassurances. He’d kept it brief, however, as while they may have captured this small area of the beach, they were still very much in enemy territory, and he couldn’t allow his presence here to be a distraction. And so, a few minutes later, Vim had boarded one of the amphibious craft on the beach and had used it to return to the Piercing Thorn, where he’d been given an even more boisterous welcome by just about everyone aboard, many of them having rushed up from the lower decks just to see him.
Not a half a minute after coming aboard, the entire crew of the Piercing Thorn had been on their feet, erupting into a constant round of applause, as well as whoops and cheers that had gone on for just a little too long. Yet although this was hardly a good moment for them to leave their stations, Vim let them have their celebration. He could see with his own two eyes just how much they had sacrificed in blood and pain to bring him here.
Thus, even as he’d smiled, Vim had felt a strong sense of misgiving in the back of his mind, as it had been clear that this battle had so far been very, very costly for the Royal Roses. The Piercing Thorn had taken a great many hits, and he would soon discover that its primary engines were offline and would take days to fix, ensuring that retreating from this battle was not an option—not that he’d choose to retreat at this point even he could do so. Furthermore, he’d lamented the loss of two of their precious battlecruisers as well as the countless lives aboard who had been unable to evacuate. Perhaps worst of all—at least in the material sense—the enemy had destroyed four of their fighter jets. Yet, all losses aside, he had at least arrived just in time to witness the remaining eight take to the sky, the planes screeching across the air above.
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Now, as Vim reflected on the utter nightmare that had been his time in captivity, he did his best to refocus his attention towards their current, new primary objective: assisting the Lords of Justice and the Elvish with dismantling the Guild of Gentlemen’s ability to produce more of their treacherous, evil weapons. To that end, Vim was willing to take any amount of material losses. There could be no objective more important than stopping ‘King’ Morrison.
“…so unless I forgot something,” Haisel concluded, “that’s about everything that happened while you were gone.” He turned his head towards the city as if looking off at something far into the distance. “Where’s the boy? Is he all right?”
“Yes, he’s fine.”
“He’s…he’s not with you?”
“No.”
“I see…”
“You look troubled,” Vim remarked.
Haisel bowed his head. “It’s just that I didn’t expect him to abandon us in the middle of a war. We could really use someone with his talents to finish the job here.”
“I agree,” Vim said, “but for what it’s worth, Zach didn’t abandon us. Not really, anyway.”
“Then where is he?”
Vim shrugged. “I dunno. I think his girlfriend kidnapped him or something.”
“She what?”
“It doesn’t matter. Just let him be for now. Trust me when I say he’s done more than enough—and we have more important things to discuss.”
Haisel grunted in what Vim took to be agreement. “Fair enough. At least he was kind enough to call down the light from heaven itself to scorch those murderous bastards before he left. Gods, what an ability that was. He must’ve destroyed an entire battalion by himself!”
“Oh?” Vim asked, concealing a grin. “He did, did he?”
Haisel’s eyes widened. “Didn’t you see it? Gods, Vim. How did you miss it? The boy made all these beams of light crash down from the sky, one after the next.” He gestured with his hands, pantomiming explosions. “Even from here, we could see it happening. It was incredible.”
“It sounds like I missed quite the show, then. Oh well. It’s just a good thing he’s on our side, hm?”
“It sure is.”
For literally no other reason besides amusement, Vim decided to allow Haisel’s current assumption to stand. He was willing to guess Haisel had not been alone in coming to this conclusion, either. Perhaps, later on, he’d enlighten them all to the truth—or maybe not. Who knew? Either way, starting a conversation about his new ability would only invite a flurry of questions and waste valuable time. Thus, turning his body so that he faced the front of the aircraft carrier, he folded his arms and considered their current situation.
“How should we proceed?” Haisel asked him.
Vim curled his lips a moment as he thought on it, but there wasn’t really much to dwell on. The answer came to him fairly quickly. “You’re a better war-time commander than I am, all things considered,” he said to the sturdy man. “Continue on as you were before I arrived.”
“Understood! In that case, we’ll continue to push into the city and try to pincer the enemy’s forces. I’ve also just received word that Lord Oren is committing all his men to immediately taking the northern highway, and they’re about to be on the move any second now.”
Vim tilted his head to glance upwards, noticing that four of the F-15s that had been bombing various artillery sites had now broken off and were instead beginning to fly to the northwest. “I’m guessing those four birds are being diverted to assist our allies?”
“Exactly.”
Vim nodded. “Good thinking. Now let’s win this fight—for Ogre’s Axe.”
With that, he observed from the deck as things continued to unfold. Yet, in the very recesses of his mind, tucked away in a locked drawer that he would not let be opened until after they’d won the day, Vim began to prepare himself for the coming negotiations after they and their allies had prevailed. It would be ugly, but hopefully it would not cross over into violence.
After all, while the Royal Roses were indeed an ally and friend to the Lords of Justice—especially now during a time of war—they had lost an entire city and had so many mouths to feed and so many lives to rebuild. That was why, when things concluded, it was of vital importance that the territory ended up in the hands of the Royal Roses, which would give his guild complete and total control of the entire eastern seaboard of North Bastia aside from a stretch of inconsequential territory controlled by Defenders of Peace, which Vim was unconcerned with. This was because the coast along the Arid Dunes of Bastia was far too rocky to ever be used as a port of entry, and the currents off the coast along with the dangerous winds made it prohibitively unsuited for shipping routes.
Provided the Royal Roses ended up the uncontested ruling guild of Shadowfall Coast, seizing this city would not only grant them an unprecedented leverage in global trade once the Elves helped readmit humanity, but it would ensure that his people could be fairly compensated for suffering the brunt of the Guild of Gentlemen’s illegal and unthinkable aggressions. A reasonable, fair tax on imports and exports would be necessary to begin to heal from the wound they’d suffered.
But to do that…
“Actually, Haisel?” Vim remarked as several concerns began to run through his head.
“Yes, sir?” he asked, turning a questioning glance Vim’s way.
Vim narrowed his eyes. “There is actually one thing I would like you to do differently. I want you to order every officer in the field not to communicate anything they find related to the weapon over any joint, strategic Comm lines.”
“Meaning…we should not coordinate with Lord Oren?”
“That’s exactly what I mean. But only with stuff that has to do with the weapon. Everything else goes on as normal.”
“But…why?”
Vim lowered his voice despite it already being difficult enough to be heard with the sounds of battle raging on in the distance. The ocean’s breeze also picked up, muffling his words. But still, Haisel was able to hear him.
“We need to find that weapon first,” he explained. “Before they do. As well as any research documentation.”
Haisel hesitated a moment as though troubled, but after a brief second, he nodded. “Ahh, right. Good point. We can’t trust the Lords of Justice to destroy it. We need to do the job ourselves.”
“No,” Vim said, shaking his head. “We need to responsibly and rationally tuck it away and study it. To ensure that if anything like this ever happens again, we won’t be defenseless.”
Haisel winced as though Vim had bashed him in the face with the shitty, level-1 staff he’d borrowed from the Elvish girl. “Crude humor at a time like now? Really, Vim?” he asked, using Vim’s first name without any honorifics, which was fine, as they were now standing alone and speaking quietly.
“It’s not humor. I’m being serious.”
Haisel recoiled somewhat. “You’re not.”
Vim sighed. “Look, we were hit very, very badly, and right now, we are weak. And to be clear, you did a great job, and I’m proud of the work you’ve done here, Haisel.” He spread his arms open, widely. “But look at the damage to our fleet: our ultimate weapon. It’s been ravaged. We’ve lost so many people both in battle and in Ogre’s Axe. We’re weak, and the world is filled with vultures. Even the People of Virtue, our greatest ally, might begin strongarming us when this war is over. We need reassurance. When this is done, every guild in North Bastia that suffered as a result of the Gentlemen—and that’s all of us—are going to have a legitimate claim to the land.”
“That’s not a problem,” Haisel said, now speaking a bit more urgently. “Once this is over, I would fully expect every guild to obey the traditional rules of war. We’re only weak in the conventional sense. In an open-field battle with five-hundred of our best against five-hundred of theirs, we will win every time.”
“You’re being childish,” Vim said. “Those days are done. Organized, open-field battles are dead. The SOHLA accords are dead.”
“Why?” Haisel asked, coming across as aggravated. “Because of what one man did? Are we really going to memorialize his actions by letting him change us for the worse?”
“The fact you use the word ‘let’ proves to me you don’t understand anything at all.”
Haisel began to stir, which was unusual for a man who rarely struggled to keep a firm posture. “Vim, please.” He pointed at the city. “If the other guilds won’t yield the city to us, and if we need to fight for it, then let’s fight the way we’ve always fought our entire lives: two equally sized armies in an isolated field of combat with fair, independent observers to keep things sane.”
Vim resisted the urge to shove the tall, robust man, as his naivety was becoming annoying. “You’re being a fool. Get it through your mind that those days are over, Haisel. Society only goes in one direction, and it’s never backwards. The cat is out of the bag. The box has been opened. This,” he said, extending his arm, his palm flat, “this is what war is now.”
“And it’s also what it used to be,” his second-in-command retorted. “That sounds a lot like ‘backwards’ to me.”
“Yeah, well, backwards is forwards again when only a few people are still alive who can remember it.”
“I disagree,” Haisel replied, appearing frustrated. “Things can only become this way if we allow it. Vim, please: don’t make the same mistake that he made.”
By “he,” Vim assumed Haisel was referring to King Morrison. But in this case, Vim adamantly rejected the comparison, as he had nothing in common with such a traitorous, back-stabbing, king-slaying piece of shit.
“We are not them, Haisel. I’ll forgive you for even suggesting such a moronic thing because I don’t think you intended to come across that way.”
“Of course I didn’t. And I know we’re not. I just meant that we, as a guild, need to be careful not to re—”
“I know what you meant,” he interrupted. “And it’s been noted. Now, enough of this sentimental, weak bullshit. Win me this war, and bring justice to the murdered—those are your tasks. And let me handle the logistics of what happens in the days, weeks, and years afterward. That’s how this has always worked between us, hasn’t it? You win the fights, and I govern.”
“Yes, Sir Alazar,” Haisel said, his tone plainly bitter. “As you command.”
“Good.”