Chapter 8

22nd Day, Lower Fire Month, 1 CE

Saye stared up at the Shadow Demon in the ceiling. The Shadow Demon stared back at her. They weren’t in a place where they could chat, so she could only stew quietly on her bench at a building along the town square as she listened to the ‘Faceless One’ share her message with the townsfolk.

“We must all cast aside the sin of weakness if we wish to achieve true justice! Turn your back on the ways that seduce you into sloth and complacency!”

Across the corner of the square, a Priest stood in front of his temple’s doors, scratching his head. Knowing the Faith of the Four, the notions that Neia Baraja presented were so alien to their religious doctrines that the Priest couldn’t decide what sort of heathen babbling it was. From a commoner’s perspective, however, Neia’s teachings were practical and easy to digest.

To be fair, the Path of Justice was relatively new as a formalised moral philosophy. Neia’s message didn’t inherently conflict with the teachings of the Temples, so the Priest couldn’t do anything without official word from Hoburns. Given the Northern Patriarchate was still in shambles, any decisive action either way wouldn’t come anytime soon.

Saye stifled a yawn with her free hand. Everything about the Holy Kingdom was slow. The people travelled slowly, information didn’t get anywhere fast, and its institutions took forever to get anything done. By the time they could react to anything, it would already be too late.

Of course, if things got too radical, that was bad too. She wasn’t sure what to do about what was happening now, though. Everywhere she checked, no one sold Message scrolls – they even gave her weird looks when she asked about them – and she didn’t want to expend her limited supply contacting Lord Demiurge about something that was still sort of vague. Her Shadow Demon had to guard Neia Baraja and the Hanzo was still out on the job she had sent it on, so she settled on observing how the ‘Path of Justice’ progressed.

Never mind Message scrolls: before my next assignment, I at least want a Message wand.

An item that let her cast Message several times a day would be best. Having limited communication capabilities sucked. She didn’t envy her brother for being sent in without any equipment or supplies at all.

Saye sighed as a round of applause rose from around the square. Not only did she want to scream at Neia because her message had become twisted, but also because everything about the way that she tried to spread that message was embarrassingly awkward.

The applause came from the Faceless One’s followers around the square, making the reaction a hundred per cent shills. Neia’s target audience was the throng of desperate men and women lining up for soup, so they were essentially being held captive by food while being bombarded by the ‘Path of Justice’.

Probably the most infuriating part of it all was that it didn’t actually matter what method she used to gather an audience. The important thing was the mental state of the people who heard her. One grew more susceptible to her words the more mentally disturbed they were, and the urbanites under royalist management in the north were about as mentally disturbed as one could get without breaking down entirely. Neia could claim that a Noodle Elemental came to her in a dream and blessed her with its wisdom and they would all eventually believe that her teachings were legitimate. Whether or not they stayed that way was still a subject of study.

Another round of applause rose into the air. Unlike before Neia started speaking, the townsfolk didn’t immediately retreat to their homes to protect their precious food from being stolen or ruined. They stood around and continued to listen to her, meaning that they had probably been ensnared.

“Lookin’ kinda lonely there.”

Carlos strolled up to her, a roll of bread half submerged in his bowl of soup. The rancher pulled it out and sucked the end off with a slurp.

“Everything’s so busy now,” Saye replied, “so it can’t be helped. How’s the takeover coming along?”

“Me and the boys just got back from securin’ the fiefs attached to this town,” Carlos replied. “The captives are waitin’ for their boat on the wharf now.”

“We’re moving too slowly. I thought we’d have taken the entire north coast by now, but we haven’t even taken Navir yet.”

“Well, as you said, it can’t be helped.”

It can’t be helped.

The response was an all-around convenient excuse – something like an adaptive composite excuse. Each person who heard it would justify their situation based on the various things that they considered inescapable or acceptable ‘realities’ and their eastward advance along the coast was rife with them. They even seemed to go out of their way to create more.

An increasing number of people were joining their cause, so it couldn’t be helped that they had to divert resources to grow their organisation properly. They needed to set up the ‘Justice Camps’ in the Sierra Norte before winter set in and the creation of those couldn’t be helped because they were of crucial ideological, strategic, and logistical importance. Their territory was growing, so it couldn’t be helped that they had to be more careful and pay more attention to security.

On the other side, the conservatives couldn’t send administrators as quickly as the Corps could take territory, so they didn’t want to overextend themselves. Additionally, while not completely bloodless, the northern shipping blockade was successful at appropriating royalist ships, so the north’s resources were practically stuck in the north.

Everything came together to create a scenario that was reinforced by people’s attempts to work within the constraints of that scenario, resulting in a situation that ‘couldn’t be helped’. In reality, they were the ones who had taken it upon themselves to forge their own destinies. They had free rein over the northern coast, but they acted as if they were limited by the everyday realities that they were accustomed to.

Saye could only think that the ridiculous nature of the Holy Kingdom had stained its people to the core no matter how much they tried to break free of it: they were conditioned to accept the notion that they were powerless beyond their tiny personal spheres of influence and thus interpreted the entire world through that lens no matter how things changed. The Holy Kingdom was a place where big talk was common, but a weak delivery was expected.

“I can’t believe even Commander Lobo thinks that,” Saye said.

“I don’t speak with that fellow much,” Carlos said. “A bit too power-grabby, if you ask me.”

“Commanders are used to being in charge,” Saye said. “Everyone expects them to actively lead, so that might make them seem ‘power-grabby’ to more independent people like you ranchers.”

“You may be right about that, but what about his beef with Nobles? The gods know we’ve had our problems with ‘em, but that guy’s on a whole other level. It’s like the idea that someone’s an aristocrat makes ‘em…well, whatever he thinks of ‘em.”

Commander Lobo did give off that impression. He never had anything good to say about the aristocracy and usually had something disparaging to say about them whenever they popped up in any discussion.

“According to what I’ve heard from his officers,” Saye said, “he’s just had a bad time with the aristocracy. Getting stuck under incompetent Commanders who got the position just because they’re Nobles sounds like it’s common, but he got stuck under them all the time. He lost loved ones from mandatory military service and blames them for that, too.”

“How does that last part stack up? Were those incompetent Commanders responsible for their deaths?”

“The person he was going to marry died on the wall. Also, after he started a family with someone else, two of his sons and one of his daughters died during military service. I don’t think their deaths had anything to do with Nobles, though. He just resents them because they can do things to protect their own children…plus the idea that he had to sacrifice his children to the military despite devoting his life to the military rubs him the wrong way, too.”

“That’s a pretty bitter story.”

It was, and it was also a dangerous one. Commander Lobo’s decisions were heavily influenced by his bias against the aristocracy and that, in turn, created some problems inherent to his strategic planning. Some might call his decisions prudent, but certain attitudes had a way of creating self-fulfilling prophecies. She had seen all sorts of people trapped by their preconceptions in the past, and it never resulted in anything good.

Commander Lobo’s attitude seemed to be infectious, so Saye pondered getting rid of him. Her orders didn’t contain any instructions indicating that she should, however. Lord Demiurge tended to be very explicit, so things like Commander Lobo’s prejudices and Neia Baraja’s problematic teachings were likely a part of his calculations. After some thought, she decided that it all did facilitate a very natural-looking transition into Phase Three of the Holy Kingdom Project.

“What else do you think about it?” Saye asked.

“I don’t see how what I think matters,” Carlos answered, “but we’re supposed to be fighting injustice, yeah? It’s no good if we remove one injustice and install another.”

“Do you think things will get that far?”

“Dunno. All I want is a good, safe life for me and my people. Keeping what we’ve seen here from spreading and letting people know that they can’t get away with what they did to us is a part of that. This just keeps gettin’ bigger and bigger, though. I can’t say whether Lobo’s in the right or not, but Miss Baraja trusts him to command our forces.”

“Have you spoken with Neia about it?”

“Nah. She’s got enough to do as it is. I figure we’ll go home after the score’s been settled and that’ll be that.”

That definitely wouldn’t be that. Roble was hurtling towards a civil war and none of its citizens could do anything about it.

Saye excused herself and made her way out of the square. She wandered around, listening to locals and Corps members alike speak amongst themselves, trying to get a feel for the overall atmosphere. For the most part, things were routine – at least according to what had been going on for the past few weeks – and she picked up her pace in search of something interesting.

Eventually, she found herself outside the town, making her way to the army camp set up along the beach. Along the way, a tall, spindly shadow appeared at her side, speaking in a stern whisper that seemed to scatter upon being touched by the sea breeze.

“This one’s task has been completed.”

“Did you find what I mentioned?”

“Yes. All has been delivered, as ordered.”

“Great,” Saye smiled. “I have some new information to deliver to headquarters before you return to your regular duties.”

The Hanzo listened intently as Saye conveyed the recent developments. She had the Hanzo repeat her words back to her before dispatching him to E-Rantel. Hopefully, Lord Demiurge could provide additional guidance.

If you spot this narrative on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

Her mood significantly improved, Saye went the rest of the way to the army camp off the shore. Most of the Sorcerer King Rescue Corps was deployed all along the ‘front’, so this one only served as a command centre for their operations where roughly a thousand members – mostly in support companies – were stationed. The camp was abuzz with activity as men and women went back and forth organising supplies to be sent forward. They would be marching on Navir, next, so things felt especially tense.

On a knoll overlooking the camp, she found Commander Lobo with several of his Captains. They were so involved in their discussion that they didn’t notice her even when she came within a few metres.

“This may be too ambitious, Commander. We don’t have the men to lay siege to the city.”

“I agree. Invading through the harbour is more realistic.”

“Unlike Lloyds,” Commander Lobo said, “Navir’s harbour isn’t inside its walls. ‘Invading through the harbour’ only means they shut the gates in our faces.”

“But at least we have some chance of taking the gates by surprise. It’s guaranteed that they’ll close off the city if we approach by land.”

“The fortifications are still unrepaired for some reason. Can we take advantage of that?”

The group fell silent as they stared down at the map on the table between them. Spies – they were more like civilian volunteers sent to look around – collected information in advance of their advance and a fair amount had been gathered on the small city. Crude maps were made that included details from their intelligence efforts and their methods had been refined over the weeks.

Saye was curious if the volunteers had become Rogues in the process, but the citizens of the Holy Kingdom abhorred even the idea of Rogues and actively suppressed any Rogue-like behaviours unless they were tricked into believing that they actually weren’t. A report from Hoburns stated that Liam had encouraged the training of ‘thief-takers’ to help with city security, but Saye didn’t enjoy the same level of trust with Commander Lobo as Liam did with House Restelo.

Even if she tried going through Neia, the Commander would treat the idea with suspicion. On top of his attitudes concerning Nobles and authority in general, he had the annoying views that the people of Roble had when it came to women. Commander Lobo didn’t have any female Captains at all; the highest one could get in his command structure as a woman was a camp aide, which he treated much like one would treat a clerk or receptionist. Needless to say, ideas from a ‘girl’ like Saye wouldn’t be taken seriously at all.

“It’s not as if there are holes in the wall,” Commander Lobo said. “Our people didn’t report any damaged gates, either.”

“How about here?” One of his Captains pointed at a spot on the map, “If a quick seizure of the gate by sea fails, we can reroute our landing forces to this damaged section and try to storm it.”

“I can see that being an option,” the Commander said, “but I think we can do better. We’ll conduct an assault through the harbour, but with one added detail: we fly royalist colours on our ships. Hell, we can even use the ships due to arrive in Navir.”

“It’s underhanded,” another Captain frowned, “but it might work. They should be wondering where those captured ships are, so the Nobles in charge may even run out to yell at us for being late.”

Amused chuckles rose around the table. It wasn’t a bad plan – at least it was better than the brute force methods proposed before.

“Report!”

A woman in an aide’s uniform rushed up the knoll with some papers in hand. She had to go around the gathering to speak to the Commander.

“One of our scouts came in. He reported a column of soldiers coming north up the highway from Prart.”

Commander Lobo and his officers straightened from their relaxed stances to regard the aide with a frown.

“Details, woman,” the Commander said.

“They’re royalist retinues, sir. Two thousand armsmen and counting.”

“We can handle two thousand on the field,” one of the Captains said, “but a siege will be a problem.”

“That depends on who’s in charge,” Commander Lobo didn’t seem to share his officer’s concern. “Did the scout have any information along those lines?”

The aide flipped through her papers with a tentative look.

“Most people don’t know the realm’s heraldry, so the best I could figure out was…a count-sized banner. A silver ship on bars of gules over azure.”

Uh-oh.

“Anyone familiar with that one?” Commander Lobo asked.

The officers shook their heads.

“Miss Baraja mentioned that the retinues in the north weren’t anything of note,” one of them said. “They didn’t have proper scouts and were disorganised as a whole.”

“They made a piss-poor showing in Lloyds as well,” the Commander nodded. “Still, I’d rather not get stuck in a weeks-long siege. We should use that foolish pride of theirs to lure them out onto the field.”

A number of ideas were thrown around, and, in the end, they settled on another ruse. Saye left the command tent when they finally sent for Neia. She joined the Faceless One at the town’s eastern gate.

“Oh, there you are,” Neia smiled in greeting. “I was wondering where you went.”

“Around,” Saye replied.

“Around, huh? I bet you dug up all sorts of information again.”

“That’s what Bards do,” Saye shrugged.

“Commander Lobo sent someone to find me. Any idea what it’s about?”

“What else could it be about?”

“I guess you’re right,” Neia said. “Still, I’m nervous about attacking Navir.”

“Me, too.”

It was likely for a different reason from Neia’s, though that would change soon. The situation had become extraordinarily risky.

Commander Lobo and his officers saluted as Neia entered the command tent with Saye. The Commander gave Saye a dubious look, but didn’t say anything about her presence at the meeting.

“What’s the matter, Commander Lobo?” Neia asked.

“We’ve received reports from our scouts that the royalists are on the move, Miss Baraja,” the Commander answered. “Their retinues are moving from Prart to Navir. So far, we have a count of roughly two thousand men.”

“So far, you say…is that going to be a problem?”

“We’re confident that we can beat them on the field,” Commander Lobo said. “To that end, we’ve devised a strategy to draw them out. As far as our observers in Navir have reported, the royalists aren’t aware that we’ve taken this town. We intend to bring them to us by letting word reach the city that the town is under attack and needs help.”

Saye studied the faces of the officers at the table. More than a few seemed to find the ploy distasteful.

“Is that our best option?” Neia asked, “Our strategy for the northern coast relies heavily on the royalists not finding out what’s going on.”

“Until we discern why the royalists have sent forces to Navir, it’s prudent to assume they’re at least suspicious of the silence from their ships and territories. To keep things unclear, we’ll claim that pirates are raiding the coast and sweeping from west to east. That should at least have them pin their suspicions on external elements and not us.”

“I see. That’s better than nothing, at least. But, even if we win, the royalists will know that something’s going on when their forces don’t return.”

“Yes, Miss Baraja,” Commander Lobo replied. “We can’t move so methodically anymore, so we just have to hope that what we’ve set up is enough to see us through. The remainder of the northern coast must be taken as quickly as possible and then we need to dig in for the winter. Fortunately, Sierra Norte makes the coastal territories narrow between Navir and Banre. The rest of the campaign should be quick once we’ve taken the city.”

Reaching Banre would solve a number of problems for Neia’s forces, though they weren’t aware of it yet. Upon its capture, they would discover that it was where the Sorcerous Kingdom was delivering its food aid to the Holy Kingdom. Since the route from Re-Robel and Banre was already long established, it would become an innocuous way for the Sorcerous Kingdom to send whatever material support was necessary to keep them going. This was, in fact, Lord Demiurge’s intent from the start; its appearance as ‘humanitarian aid’ was merely a guise.

Broadly speakingl, things were going according to plan and the denizens of the Holy Kingdom weren’t in any way aware of it.

“Who are we going to fight?” Saye asked.

An annoyed look flashed over Commander Lobo’s face at her question. Several of his officers were also plainly displeased at her speaking out of turn – in other words, speaking at all. However, they had no choice but to answer.

“Our people aren’t familiar with the banners on display,” the Commander said. “They’re all southern houses, of course. There’s no sign of the Royal Army, the Holy Order, or the Temples.”

“In other words,” Neia murmured, “it’s still being treated as an internal problem by the royalists. That’s good. Hopefully, we can keep it that way. What’s the heraldry on the banners, by the way? Saye might have an idea which houses are involved.”

The Commander reached for a pile of papers on the table, clearing his throat.

“The most notable one was a count-sized banner. A silver ship on bars of gules over azure.”

Neia’s expression immediately darkened. Her voice had a distinct edge to it.

“House Cohen.”

“You know of them, Miss Baraja?” Commander Lobo asked.

“It was the house that led the forces encroaching on Mister Lousa’s land. Los Ganaderos has a score to settle with them.”

“But it’s dangerous,” Saye said.

“If I recall correctly, Miss Baraja,” the Commander said, “you bested the Knight they sent to challenge you.”

The reason Neia had fought the Knight at all was at Saye’s urging, and that was because Saye had seen Eduardo Cohen at The Queen of Thorns. Eduardo was far too dangerous and Saye half suspected that Sir Torres had been sent out to settle the matter because Eduardo’s participation in a battle would have turned it into a one-sided slaughter. The Knight’s loss was simply an unfortunate miscalculation on Eduardo’s part.

“You’re not wrong about the challenge,” Neia said, “but Saye is right. I can only assume it’s Eduardo Cohen leading those troops and he’s extremely dangerous. He’s not going to offer a duel to anyone attacking what he considers royalist lands. It should also be safe to assume that he won’t be leading a hodgepodge of novices with the northern harvest on the line. If we plan to fight, we should make it as overwhelming a victory as possible.”

“…how dangerous would you say this lordling is?”

“That Knight that we fought when we were capturing the Sea Sprite. Sir Luis. Eduardo is probably twice as strong as he was, if not more. It’s hard to tell when someone is that much stronger than you are.”

“But that would make him stronger than most of the Nine Colours,” one of the Captains said in disbelief.

“If someone that strong served in the army,” another added, “we’d have heard some story about Campano trying to pick a fight with him.”

“A young man with that much strength would’ve probably made it known.”

“That’s what makes him so dangerous,” Saye said. “He’s either shrewd or confident enough in his strength that he doesn’t feel the need to prove himself. Besides, Nobles don’t have the same priorities as everyone else; only the idiots act as they shouldn’t.”

“Still,” Commander Lobo said, “we have to deal with him. We’ll have to be careful if he’s that powerful, but, ultimately, he’s only one man. Putting a few hundred arrows into him should do the trick.”

This guy doesn’t get it…

Unless Eduardo had certain pieces of magical equipment, a few hundred arrows from Silver-equivalent Rangers was in all likelihood overkill. However, Commander Lobo was still making some other, fatal assumptions to come to his conclusion. Was it because of his biased opinion of Nobles or was there some sort of disconnect between the northern and southern halves of the Holy Kingdom? It may have been both.

Lord Lugo was pretty strong, as well, yet the lordling and his peers didn’t think that the occasional strong nobleman was anything abnormal. Both Lugo and Eduardo gave off the same feeling as Lady Zahradnik: they were dangerous people in a physical sense, but their presence exuded something that bolstered their allies and instilled fear in everyone else. The overall goodly demeanour of the Holy Kingdom’s aristocrats further obscured the threat that they represented, but Saye didn’t doubt that they were Martial Nobles.

This meant that they were not just powerful fighters, but also capable Commanders. Even if he didn’t personally take the field, Eduardo Cohen might very well best them with his army. As Neia mentioned, it was more likely than not that any retainers the royalists brought to fight a serious battle over their holdings wouldn’t be the pitiful mix of weaklings that had come to Iago Lousa’s land, but hand-picked retinues composed of army veterans recruited as professional armsmen.

Saye remained silent as the war council revised their plans. She would have to get her Shadow Demon to cripple the royalist forces before they clashed with Neia’s followers.

“Report!”

An aide appeared at the entrance of the tent, trying to find her way past the crowd of officers. It took her a minute or so to reach Neia and Commander Lobo. The woman’s wild-eyed look gave everyone pause.

“What happened?” Neia asked.

“It’s terrible!” The aide panted, “The ocean, it’s…it’s…just look!”

Or that could happen. Pretty good timing.

They emptied out of the tent and made their way down the knoll to the rocky beach. Most stopped well before they reached the water, staring dumbfounded at the sight that greeted them.

“What in the world…” Neia breathed.

Flotsam littered the ocean as far as the eye could see. Every crashing wave piled more and more upon the shore, creating piles of splintered wood, shredded cloth, and broken lengths of rope. Neia’s eyes roamed the shore, and she froze before running down to the wall of debris. There, lying torn upon the rocks, was a huge ensign bearing the sigil of the Holy Kingdom.

Saye kept her satisfied smile to herself. The Wind of Rimun had finally arrived.