Arakiel looked over the numbers in front of him once more and let out a long, drawn-out sigh. He put the report on the side and got up, crossing the small room he had occupied as a temporary office. Relatively neat ineventory, wooden, decorative and well-maintained. It was located in the noble’s district, close to the duke’s keep where his elite regiments had made their home.
Looking outside, it was still quite dark although he had been up for about two hours at this point. Autumn was about done and soon, the onset of winter would come, heralding his finishing line as the 76th year of the New Order drew to a close.
The sun would rise any moment now and along with it, his very own light of gold.
He let out a yawn right as he heard a soft knock at the door made of chestnut timber. He acknowledged it and returned to his desk to get one final look at the compiled information. Aisha and Akili had done most of the work and he really only needed to take note of them, but he still wanted to process it internally for future reference.
Nyanna, wearing a green Middle maiden’s dress made of linen and wad, entered on soft steps. She had braided her long blonde hair over her covered right shoulder and carried a small tray with some silverware on it which she placed onto his desk.
“I have brought you some tea and refreshments, Master.” The girl reported politely and when he briefly looked up, their eyes met, at which point he beheld his slave a little longer. The low light of his surroundings brought out the green in her eyes exceptionally well and although her dress was of a much heavier and overall modest make to suit the drop in temperature, it still stimulated his imagination.
But right now, he found the heavy iron collar around her neck to mar the whole composition.
“Do you require anything else?” She asked somewhat meekly and when he quietly got up, she slightly shifted her posture as a means to hide her surprise.
Arakiel wandered around the table and to her back, where he narrowed his gaze at the rough iron.
“Hold still,” he ordered and then reached for the heavy collar that hadn’t changed since he captured her in Boundary.
Nyanna held her breath.
With a bit of force, he opened the clasp and removed the piece, revealing rash, agitated skin beneath.
“I had feared as much,” he commented somewhat irritated. “Why didn’t you say anything?”
“About what, Master?” Nyanna asked carefully, not daring to turn around.
“The collar must’ve itched quite a bit. It wasn’t meant to be worn for such a long time.”
“I wouldn’t dare to trouble you with such minor–” She began, yet he interrupted her right away.
“This isn’t minor, Nyanna. Not only does it spoil your appearance, but it also distracts you from your duties,” Arakiel began as he pulled one of the woolen scarfs from his Spatial Ring.
He then gently coiled it around her neck, saying. “I want you to report this to Mellia once she’s properly awake. Let her heal you.”
“Of course, Master,” his slave maid responded, unable to hide the snippets of joy and surprise she felt.
He lightly patted her onto her backside. “I want you to examine whether Ezekiel has already considered this for your sisters. If not, inform him about it. What he does with that information is up to him.”
“As you order, Master.” Nyanna affirmed and then left, but not before performing a slight curtsy.
He watched the girl leave and chuckled to himself.
She was coming along nicely.
Having done his good deed for the day, he returned to his report, but not before wondering who exactly came up with such an idiom. After all, a good deed could be anything as long as the person performing it considered it as such. In light of this, the whole statement held no value.
Feeling particularly clever for this insight, he proceeted to study the numbers again and his good mood quickly gave way to serious thoughts.
On paper, the occupation of Irialswell had to be considered a mixed bag. Over 30 dead, more than a 100 wounded.
Alchemy certainly sped up their recovery, but not only was his army’s supply limited, but the southerners’ frequent refusal of having nature spells cast onto them was an irritating fact for sure.
Mellia could’ve used these last two days to return most of them to marching condition; instead, these warriors would now slow them down for a few days to keep up pace with the rest of his forces. And while doing so, they’d burn through valuable combat consumables.
It was truly quite irritating, but there was nothing he could do. The southerners distrust against the Middle Kingdom’s magic paths was not something he could fix with an order.
On a more positive note, food of both necessary and recreational kinds wouldn’t be an issue for a long while and the morale of the Smokeless Host had to be considered beyond excellent.
None had questioned his decision to continue onward today – if anything, they had welcomed the chance to bring the scimitar of justice onto more Middles.
Both the day of looting and the day of tribute had come and gone and although it was a little risky to have most of the force move on, they had gained a surprisingly large number of collaborators who had given hints to potential pockets of resistance, most of which had even turned out to be true.
He hoped that the distrust sown among the populace in addition to both days having gone by in a relatively ordered fashion would be enough to suppress the Middles until he could split his forces to secure both cities properly over the winter.
Until that happened, he intended to leave a small token force here to assist the new ruler of the city while also taking all prisoners and tribute along as to not give the Middles any brave or bright ideas.
He had further allowed the residents of Irialswell to properly bury their dead – only the dead nobles would line the main streets for a while as a means to channel anger. Later, the Middles could do with the bodies whatever they wanted.
It further pleased him to read that no misconduct of his soldiers had been reported. They would seize any possibility inside the sultan’s framework, but none dared to breach it, which was excellent.
If the combatant nobles hadn’t damaged his soldiers this much, he would’ve honestly considered this operation a roaring success.
But it was quite worrying since the situation here in Irialswell had been more or less perfect for them. A drunken, feasting population, more or less free entry into the town proper – and still his men had suffered so many casualties. Granted, most of the dead could be attributed to the nobles’ ambush, but still.
He didn’t even want to think about how this whole situation might’ve changed had Duke Irial access to his entire force. It kind of fell into Arakiel’s responsbilities to do just that, though.
And no matter how he spun the tale, it didn’t end too well for him and his Smokeless Host without being privy to exact numbers on the Middle’s side. He assumed that most of the guardsmen and nobles left behind were at least decent, with few overall rookies.
Granted, the entire premise worked on the Middle’s main army being distracted, yet what should he do if the High Realm and the Middle Kingdom didn’t smash each other to bits?
Arakiel shoved these thoughts into the back of his mind in an attempt to disregard them for the time being. Right now, he needed to focus on conquering the second capital and then fortify his position both among the Host and in the Middle Kingdom’s south.
His gaze moved over to one of the conclusions. Aisha’s suggestion saw ten percent of their forces stay behind to secure Irialswell and its surrounding lands, which was quite a bit, but it might just be necessary. He couldn’t just assume that the Middles would magically accept new rulers from the get-go, especially considering the overall enmity between the two realms.
The people here weren’t nearly as rabid as those of Boundary, but they still saw the daughters and sons of the desert as lesser beings as far as Arakiel could tell.
With a sigh, he approved the suggestion with his signature and pretty much all others as well. Akili and Aisha certainly knew what they were doing, or they at least knew how to make their case.
Arakiel furled up the parchment and then went outside, right into the arms of his aurea who had once again risen just before the first ray of the sun lit up the world.
His golden-eyed beauty gave him a morning kiss which he returned a tad too passionately after which they ascended towards the highest floor as the house they occupied had a roof terrace from which one had a rather clear view of the rising sun.
It had been the sole reason why he chose it.
Aurora caught the dawn for him in her usual enchanting way, leaving him to muse about the fact that the fresh, even cold morning air didn’t seem to bother her in the slightest. As per usual, his aurea really only wore her wrap of tri-colored gossamer silk, although she had decided to keep the incredibly tempting white panties with the golden hemline on as well.
As he sat there, watching his winged seraphim perform her morning ritual, he couldn’t help but compare her to Nyanna and although it wasn’t even a contest, he could at least hand it to the slave maid that her progressing submission spoke to him on a thoroughly different level than Aurora – one that his seraphim would never be able to stimulate and as soon as she did, he would need to seriously reconsider just about everything.
Ezekiel’s words of warning lingered in his mind, yet he couldn’t see it.
Aurora was obviously not a mortal: her utter lack of body hair besides her eyebrows and the lustrous shock on her head, the fact that she didn’t sweat, the innate grace with which she moved about while more or less disregarding her entire surroundings and of course the pair of beautifully plumed wings that grew straight out of her back.
She was an immortal who seemed to grow more captivating with every day, but the slim golden collar around her neck with the cut alexandrite marked her as his immortal, which was an important distinction.
So what if she influenced him a little? He influenced her on a much grander scale.
To prove his thoughts, he allowed her to keep today’s dawnshard and after Aurora absorbed it, she soon embraced him as though her life depended on it, but it was through his gentle caresses that she calmed down.
Ezekiel might think himself a master for dominating a weak-willed, horny Selene, but Arakiel was the one that had truly entered his seraphim’s heart, mind and soul.
Just… just like she had entered his – but he was aware of it.
He had the means to shape their covenant and through it, their relationship.
Up there on that little balcony under the sun’s morning light, Arakiel realized that he had just considered her in such a way for the first time.
And he felt fine with it.
Come noon, the Smokeless Host left Irialswell just three days after having conquered it. Arakiel had the army march eastward without any kind of major procession, but not before officially handing over the reigns of the city to a civilian vicegerent, a member of the Host’s retinue.
The man and his staff were members of al-Aliriq’s guilds which would not only ensure that proper order be established, they’d also take care of any support and relief if the army ran out of supplies, which they shouldn’t even if the overall size of the army had increased. The logistical management had run exceptionally smoothly so far, after all. Neither his advisors nor Arakiel expected that to change anytime soon.
This book is hosted on another platform. Read the official version and support the author's work.
The planeswalkers kept in a close-knit group as earlier, the only differences to the previous march was Aurora demanding to ride on Arakiel’s saddle just like how Selene chose to accompany Ezekiel. Arakiel permitted Nyanna to ride on Aurora’s horse and the shawl hid the absence of her collar quite well. Her younger sisters shared a horse as well, although Ezekiel hadn’t seen it necessary to change their neck adornment.
According to Mellia, the nature enchantment she had applied to Nyanna had shown remarkable efficacy which was usually the case for bloodlines that had a very strong affinity to nature, like that of some elves or fae. He took note of it, but didn’t delve any further so far.
For the first time in a long while, white clouds began to form in the sky and with every hour, the air grew just a little colder while the wind took up in speed.
For the entirety of today’s march, the surrounding area didn’t really change: fields of harvest crop upon more fields and sparse trees, some meadows and orchards alongside the occasional painterly stream or a still, little pond.
Very pleasant to behold and a testament to the duchy’s reputation as a breadbasket.
The scenery wouldn’t change for another day at which point the fields gave way to lush, colorful forests and large stretches of blooming meadows, interspersed once again by the occasional stream or larger patches of bushes and the occasional wild orchards that carried apples, cherries, pears and the like.
It was really the kind of vegetation that the Middle Kingdom had in abundance – vast stretches of potentially arable land with a diverse population in both flora and fauna… all of which were things that the southerners never had access to.
Arakiel could see it in his soldiers’ eyes, the sheer wonder and amazement at just how lush this autumnal landscape was – and the potential it held for their people.
Most had never been this far up north, having only heard the occasional tale. To see it with one’s own eyes was an altogether different matter.
Fittingly the sun returned in full force even if the temperature continued to drop overall.
Overall, the pace was not great due to the wounded, but it could’ve been much worse.
They were making steady progress and so far, no major obstacles had reared its head or showed any signs of potentially existing at all,
On the fourth day after departure, the Smokeless Host reached a relatively small river which, according to the scouts, acted as a kind of natural border between the neighboring duchies of Irialswell and Scitathswood. The army easily traversed it, for it was rather shallow and it supposedly ended in a relatively sizable lake much further down south that, according to Nyanna, had some local tale about a lady in the lake that offered a worthy hero a special kind of sword.
When he asked her what kind of ‘hero’ would be worthy, she had no answer to give, yet the look she gave him made it rather clear that he would not be that kind of hero, which Arakiel was fine with. There were no heroes as far as he was aware. ‘Heroes’ as portrayed by the tales of old tended to be selfless and selfless people did not make it far in today’s world, for they were unable to accumulate power.
It sparked a small debate which Mellia concluded by pointing out the term itself was open to interpretation from all kinds of angles. To the people of Kalanaar, immortals were villains while the people of Elysia had begun to revere those same immortals as heroes.
The scouts continued to report a complete absence of travelers, which he did find it little odd to say the least.
Nonetheless, the Smokeless Host marched on without any interruptions simply because the goal, the duchy’s capital town lay further to the north-east.
He had decided to circumvent any villages or smaller towns for now. Sooner or later, the fate of Irialswell would spread and he’d rather be ahead of the news if anyhow possible. Granted, a single Astral Thaumaturge could’ve already sent a missive. He had little hope that the royal capital wasn’t aware of the fall of Irialswell, but maybe Scitathswood might still be in the dark.
For now, the landscape didn’t change by much, only there being less meadows and more forest which wasn’t too bad as the weather turned at some point when too many clouds had darkened the sky for a bit too long. It began to rain, relatively light at first but it was still quite a bother for everyone except Aurora and partially Selene, although the silver seraphim’s anti-environment protection didn’t seem to work as flawlessly as Aurora’s did.
The dense foliage of the forests helped in the beginning, but when the heavens opened the floodgate, not even the leaves and thick branches could stop the water.
The rain kept going with varying intensity for two more days, at which point it stopped just when the army emerged from a truly massive stretch of forest that they had traversed for nearly four days. Unfortunately, cold gales took the rain’s place which, when exposed to on an open field went down into the very bone. This kind of wind was quite unlike the searing hot one that the warriors of the south were used to, and it showed.
Arakiel ordered his men to ensure warm clothing for everyone, even the captives-turned-slaves. In the nights, he ordered larger bonfires to be made to ensure proper warmth, especially for those warriors who still hadn’t made a full recovery while further reminding his men to take the weather and especially the cold seriously.
Thankfully, the weather didn’t slow them down too much.
According to the scouts, the Smokeless Host should reach Scitathswood in about one-and-a-half’s week. It would still leave Arakiel some and hopefully enough time to actually conquer the city which he expected would go quite differently to how it used to be.
He wasn’t sure how accurately Sultan Zimraan valued the time limit, but he’d rather not have to split hairs when push came to shove.
While the rain stopped in full and the sun returned, the winds kept their relatively steady pace. The temperature, however, rose slightly while still being fairly cool overall. It didn’t drop further, which was good. If they could reach their goal before it began to snow, then all would be well.
Arakiel and his advisors deemed the Host’s pace acceptable for now. Unsurprisingly, the scouts soon reported the first travelers on the major roads, but it wasn’t too big a problem yet as there was a parallel road they could follow given their intention of avoiding any kind of settlements for now.
And although the duchy consisted of vast stretches of forest, it wasn’t particularly dense, making it easily passable.
Twice, they met a camp of woodcutters and another camp of charburners – both times, the people working there were thankfully not there.
Two weeks after having set out, the topography changed as the army entered a more or less cultivated hillscape which lay currently barren, the fruits having been picked and most likely processed some time ago. There wasn’t a soul far and wide although they occasionally spotted empty cottages that were most likely used as temporary homes for the workers when it was harvesting or growing season. Just a few weeks earlier, and there might’ve been a lot of people here who would’ve been a nightmare to chase through these hills.
It also meant that Scitathswood was close. The scouts suggested three to four days at most which was excellent. Not only was Arakiel tired of traveling, but he could feel that his men – for all their discipline – wanted to get their blood pumping again.
There had been little brawls of late – nothing major, but it spoke of unrest that he’d rather avoid entirely.
He learned some tidbits about the region through Nyanna, but noted them of too little importance to think through.
Beer, livestock and high-quality timber – that’s the goods this duchy mainly traded with and it showed.
Alcohol and meat would certainly help to bring his men’s morale back up right away – and the activity of seizing it would only further that point.
Still, the Smokeless Host marched on.
It arrived close to Scitathswood fourteen days after having left Irialswell. The hills and valleys had turned less steep, going over into a soft, rolling hill type of landscape that was mostly covered in meadows which occasionally occupied a herd of cow-like animals or sheep grazing upon them.
The army was but a stone’s throw away from the town now and in a relatively secluded valley, he had the Host set up camp as he planned to gather some information first. The army would need to march about three to four hours according to the scouts.
For this, only Arakiel, Ezekiel and Akili followed a pair of slim, athletic and relatively quiet scouts as Aisha still hadn’t made a full recovery, having rejected Mellia’s offer twice.
The two men led their charges over the course of two and a half hours towards an empty cottage overlooking the valley in which Scitathswood partially lay as it had been built against a hill.
To Arakiel’s bemusement, there wasn’t a single piece of forest in sight although the main building material for the settlement had undoubtedly been wood. Perhaps there used to be a forest here.
The walls weren’t as high as those of Irialswell and overall, the town seemed to be a little smaller. He couldn’t make out any natural bodies of water right away and besides the layered keep that had been built against the steepest hill all around, there didn’t seem to be anything majorly impressive.
He counted ten towers that looked as though they had been built from timber, just like the majority of the keep and while it had its own walls of stone, he was already feeling much better about all of this. It’d be quite easy to burn this thing down if it came down to it.
There was once again a clear distinction in the buildings’ character and facades, with the fancier ones being closer to the keep while the simple ones lay very close to the walls. Unlike Irialswell, he counted three entrance gates, one in each direction besides the keep which should point eastward while the cobbled roads led west, north and south.
Two squares with wells and many people that were underway, even if was but early afternoon. If he had to take a guess, there was currently a market being held in the larger of the two locations.
So far, he couldn’t detect any signs that these Middles knew about the army that had taken up camp close-by. A fortunate turn of events, if a little unexpected.
While the group was quietly discussing possible vulnerabilities, they suddenly heard a dull thud from the side and as Arakiel turned, he saw the two scouts having fallen over without any discernible reason.
He took on Aurora’s aspect in a split-second, only to witness Akili falling over as well. Ezekiel, having burst into silver flames, was still standing, however.
“Watch my back!” His party member called out and the two men immediately got together, each one watching the other’s back.
They slightly circled around in the open barn from which they had observed Scitathswood and from one moment to another, a low, dense fog began to slowly creep out of the nearby cottage, right after which an ethereal, almost disembodied of certainly female origin giggled lightly before saying in a beckoning tone.
“Venerable guests from afar, please enter. Our words are for your ears only.”
Arakiel motioned Ezekiel to be quiet as they sought to take more stock of their surroundings, but the fog intensified swiftly and as they sought to grab Akili and hurry away, the jinnum’s unmoving body suddenly dissolved into even more fog that began to envelop them in full, making it almost impossible to see anything.
Additionally, a low chill began to creep throughout Arakiel’s body, as though the fog seeped into him.
“Your friends will not be harmed, I promise.” The ethereal voice went on, repeating her earlier request. “Please enter, honored guests from afar.”
Arakiel turned to the side just as Ezekiel did, both nodded in quiet agreement and then slowly approached the door frame from which the fog had come.
Arakiel held one of Aurora’s dawnshards and willed an astral anti-magic sigil to life, applying it to himself.
It took a little while, but then the fog vanished and he saw Akili and the two scouts lying just where they collapsed.
He was the first to enter the relatively spacious hall that had been entirely made from wood. A few tables with chairs, an empty fireplace and a low bar counter spoke of a time when this had been a tavern, maybe for the surrounding shepherds and farmers.
He spotted a person sitting on the wooden counter, but he did his best to pretend as though he didn’t see her. Let her think he was still under her spell.
As he did, he used the rest of the shard’s gold and made a sigil for Ezekiel. The man was faster than him.
“Let’s split, but be careful. Look for any sign of the caster!” Arakiel whispered as he purposefully chose a direction that would lead him away from the young woman that might just be Nyanna on the first glance.
Long blonde hair, green eyes and the green dress looked almost identical to the slave maid that should still be back in the camp. He hadn’t seen much more.
Ezekiel affirmed in a quiet and determined tone.
As the two split up, the young woman repeated her words and then jumped off the counter and she had to be exceptionally nimble as he couldn’t hear her touching the ground. If possible, he wanted to surprise and capture her, see how she got the information that they were here.
He internally decided to leave it to Ezekiel as the man had undoubtedly already seen through the mind trick as well.
While Arakiel kept on exploring the room, occasionally bumping into a table or chair after which he let out a small curse, he heard the woman whisper something from the side.
“Follow me, oh powerful guest from afar. My secret is for your words only.”
Expecting Ezekiel to strike any moment now, Arakiel suddenly stared dumbfounded to the side as his party member allowed the girl to lead him upstairs, wearing a particularly stupid expression on his face, one that spoke of intoxicated bliss.
Arakiel cursed internally and began to hurry after the girl and his idiot teammate – both of whom paid him no mind.
He did so while treading softly, not wanting to alert or raise attention.
Having reached the foot of the stairs just as the girl reached its end, Arakiel was about to ascend the first stair when he suddenly heard another voice behind him, one that came across as clear, concise and with a hint of amusement.
“Leave them be, honored guest.” A woman’s voice suggested and as he swirled around, he saw a younger, far more beautiful Lady Muirne stare at him. Emerald-green eyes, lustrous blonde hair, a slimmer face with rosy cheeks and unlike the countess, she wasn’t pregnant, a fact Arakiel had just straight up ignored about the countess, not wanting to give her any extra treatment because of it.
More importantly, however, her ears were slightly pointy.
“We assure you my daughter will not harm your friend, honored guest.” The woman in the luxurious gown of a duchess added. She sat at one of the tables and made no obvious attempts to attack him. A golden-silver circlet of flowery motif adorned her head, not at all like Duke Irias’ symbol of authority.
“I’m afraid we are not acquainted, my Lady.” Arakiel returned in a slightly defensive manner, his posture still ready to strike at a moment’s notice. He hadn’t seen nor heard her at all.
She smiled a charming, almost alluring smile at him, her green emeralds promising something incredible. “We are not, although we heard about you, Executor Djinni. We are Finna, Duchess of Scitathswood”
His heart skipped a beat and his adrenaline shot up in an instant.
From one moment to another, he was a tense coil, ready to spring forth, yet the duchess’s words caught him off-guard.
“I wish to negotiate my surrender.”