James Osiris Baldwin
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Spear of Destiny: Chapter 30
🕑 Added 2021-01-28 01:51:09 +0000 UTCThe seat of power in Vlachia was Vulkan Keep: a cave castle built into Mt. Racosul, the towering black volcano that loomed over the black city of Taltos. Sheltered by the mountain on all sides except for one, it was the closest thing to an impregnable fortress I’d ever seen in Archemi. Even Solonovka, with its tiered twenty-foot walls, couldn’t hold a candle to it.
Normally, Karalti angled for the Parade Ground, the great red square which faced the Volod’s garrison barracks. But when we came out on the other end of the teleport, I was surprised to see us hanging over the Northern Gate of Taltos. My dragon let out a confused squawk as she glided forward, realized she was headed in the wrong direction, and dipped a wing to glide back around in the direction of the mountain.
“What the hell?” She broadcast to us. “I didn’t teleport us here! I was aiming for the castle!”
Beside me, Suri craned her head around the dragon’s neck to look forward at Mt. Racosul. “I’m pretty sure your answer’s over there, mate.”
Hundreds of dark-hulled airships stretched back and forward in a great convoy across the northern sky above Vulkan Keep, blotting out the noonday sun. Sleek, quick Bathory-class skirmishers patrolled the chasm that separated the castle’s gatehouse from the road leading up from the city. Hussar-class Destroyers hovered in front of the mountain, each one the size of a small passenger jet and bristling with weapons. One especially gigantic ship hung almost directly over the Parade Ground: a ship almost as large as a modern troop carrier, with a strange curved shield in front that made it look like a giant flying crossbow. Hundreds of smaller craft were in queue behind it, all of them flying the Corvinus banner: a black dragon on a red field, which hung from every mast like drops of blood suspended in the crowded, but orderly sky.
“Damn. Ignas is not fucking around.” I held onto the saddle with one hand, leaning out to gawk.
“Nope.” Karalti remarked. “He sure isn’t.”
“My god.” Rin put a hand to her face, clutching the straps of her saddle harness with the other hand. “We really are going to war, aren’t we?”
“That’s the entire Second Fleet, if my eyes don’t deceive me,” Masha called, raising her voice over the wind. She and Rin were seated on one side; Suri and Nethres on the other. “Quite a sight, eh?”
“What the hell is that thing?” Suri asked, pointing at the big crossbow-shaped ship. “And how the fuck does it even fly?”
“That’s a Sarkany-Class Dreadnought. The first and only ship of its kind.” Rin couldn’t tear her gaze from it, but there was a note of resignation in her voice as she spoke. “They’re designed to protect a fleet from magical assault, artillery, and even dragon fire. They lead into a battle, projecting an anti-magic pulse weapon from the front, and a huge kinetic shield around the sides. Smaller ships shelter in the shield. That’s why the bottom of it is flat, and the front has that weird curved shape…it’s kind of like a radar dish, but for magic.”
“Wow.” I couldn’t tear my eyes away from the armada as Karalti strove toward the castle. “And this is only one fleet?”
“Yes.” Masha replied. “His Majesty can field four fleets in times of international crisis. The fleets and the Black Army… those were some of Ignas’ father’s greatest accomplishments.”
Nethres whistled. “Lucien’s screwed.”
“I wouldn’t count on that. He doesn’t play fair.” I grimaced, shifting back into landing position on the saddle. “We’ve underestimated him before.”
As we got closer, we could hear military brass music playing from the decks of some of the ships – entertainment for troops psyching themselves up for the traumafest to come. Karalti had to dodge, weave, and then fly over half a dozen skirmishers on the way to the castle. The only place available for us to land was in the castle proper – the courtyard of the Inner Ward, just outside the Volod’s Great Hall. My dragon touched down carefully, vibrating with nervous energy as we detached Cutthroat’s harness and let the irate hookwing drop to the ground. The castle grounds smelled like cordite and burned plastic.
“Ahh, smell that fragrant exhaust!” Masha remarked, covering her nose with a cloth. “A healthy dose of pollution for everyone, with the fleet hanging right over the damn castle!”
“Yeah, it stinks.” Suri slid down, then caught Cutthroat by her reins. “C’mon, you.”
“HSSSSSS!” The hookwing stopped preening her chest and snapped at her, jaws clopping barely inches from Suri’s nose.
“Oi!” Suri flinched back. She jerked Cutthroat’s head down with the reins and bopped her on the snout. “What was that for?”
“Ssss.” Cutthroat hissed, petulantly this time, and resumed trying to put her ruffled feathers back in place.
“What’s up her ass?” I asked, once I was on the ground.
“Dunno. Whatever it is, she’ll get over it as soon as they take her to the stables and get some food into her. She’s been eatin’ like a starving wolverine.” Suri jerked her chin toward the door. “Head’s up: we’ve got company.”
The Great Halls doors were locked open to admit the people streaming in and out of the building, meaning that we could see from the courtyard, with its ring of paths and rose gardens, straight down the long cathedral vault to the Volod’s empty throne. His Court Mage, Simeon, was striding purposefully toward us at a fast clip, dodging the people rushing back and forth through the corridors that intersected the Royal Court.
“Welcome back to Taltos, Voivode Dragozin, Voivodzina Ba’hadir.” He bowed from the neck to each of us. “And welcome also, Journeyman Lu, Masterhealer, and…?”
“Nethres of Gilheim,” Nethres awkwardly bowed back. “A Valkyrie. I was confirmed by Ragnhildr Olafson of the Gothi. Now a Captain serving the Ilian Kingsmen.”
“One of Prince Illandi’s royal partisans?” Simeon arched his thin eyebrows.
She nodded. “He gave me leave to come here. Contact Hector, maybe advise Vlachia on what we know of Hyland’s troop movements.”
While they talked, I discreetly stepped out in front of Karalti, covering her as she polymorphed down to her human shape and equipped her gear.
“That would be useful information indeed, and truth be told, we need any advantage we can find. His Majesty, nor I or anyone else here at court ever dreamed we’d be forced to unleash our might upon a Starborn-led Ilia. Your kind were a myth only a generation ago, and now there are hundreds of you.” The slender man fixed his piercing eyes skyward, looking up. The Dreadnaught had left the Parade Ground and was passing overhead, darkening the entire courtyard with its T-shaped shadow. “Come. Time is short.”
“I will not be attending. There is no role for me in military matters such as these. My work comes after the dying starts.” Masha gave us all a small, grim smile. “If his Majesty has need of my services, you know where to find me, Simeon.”
“Of course, Masterhealer. I trust you will find the hospital is in good order.” He gave her a small, ironic bow. “Someone will be along to take care of your hookwing, Voivodzina. Leave her here, and follow me.”
“You sure about that?” Suri glanced at Cutthroat, who was alternating preening under her winglet, and hissing and biting at her own arm in irritation at… well… herself.
Simeon regarded the huge hookwing for a moment. “We can sedate her, if necessary. It wouldn’t be the first time. Come.”
Before Suri could frame any hookwing roofie-related questions, Simeon swept back up the stairs. I had more than a little great hall size envy as we crossed the black and white marble lobby, turned through a side door, and down the corridor toward the donjon. A mana-powered cage elevator was waiting for us.
“This castle has freaking elevators. I still can’t believe Vlachia doesn’t have parachutes,” I muttered, as the grate doors clanged shut.
Nethres gave me an odd look. “They don’t?”
“They do now, because we invented them.” Rin said, with a touch of pride. “I’m going to sell the patent to Ignas. That’ll net me a lot of EXP, skill points, and some reoccurring income, so that I can buy more materials and we can invent more stuff!”
“Huh.” Suri gripped my arm as the elevator – and our stomachs – lifted sharply. “Always wondered how crafters levelled without much or any combat. Selling new inventions…makes sense.”
“That’s the mana economy for you.” Rin wagged her head happily. “Invent, patent, license, then reap the royalties. Rinse and repeat until you’re rich!”
At the top floor of the tower, the sound of arguing drifted to our ears from behind the fine double doors leading into the War Room. Simeon knocked, waited until the voices stopped, and then ushered us inside.
Ignas stood at the end of a great mahogany table, his hands planted down on a pile of notes and maps. There were four others gathered around, but I recognized only two: Ebisa, his bodyguard and unofficial assassin, was seated to Ignas’ left. My fellow Voivode, Janos Lanz of Czongrad, was standing to his right. Ebisa wiggled her long fingers at us, the other arm folded over her thin, flat chest. Count Lanz flashed us a look of borderline disgust, like someone had just farted under the table and he’d caught a whiff.
“Voivode, Voivodzina. Karalti.” Ignas came around the table, shook my hand, and drew me into a brief hug. Suri got a firm soldier’s handshake. Karalti smiled and extended her fingers to him. He took them gently, and briefly pressed his forehead to the back of her knuckles before turning to Rin. “And Journeyman Rin Lu: A pleasure to see you again, as always.”
“Th-thank you.” Rin stammered as he politely kissed the back of her hand, and guided her to a seat.
When Rin was situation, Ignas turned back. He regarded Nethres with cool interest. “And who is this?”
“Nethres. She’s a partisan with the Kingsmen,” I said. “Ilian resistance. She claims she has useful information for the war effort.”
“I see. A pleasure to make your acquaintance, Nethres, but I must ask you to wait downstairs while we discuss matters of national security. I will, however, grant you a private audience after we are done.” Ignas was polite, but crisp: Nethres clearly didn’t have any Renown in Vlachia to lean on. “Simeon, please take her to the reading room and make sure she is comfortable. We may be some time up here.”
“Of course, your Majesty.” Simeon bowed, then looked to Nethres. “Please, my lady: follow me.”
“Sure.” Nethres shrugged to me, and obediently followed him back out into the hall.
“Did you check her background before bringing her here?” Ignas asked me.
“No. I figured you’d want to do that yourself, Your Majesty,” I said. “She’s someone I’ve known for a while. I met Nethres back in the first round of Trials for entry to the Order of St. Grigori. She didn’t pass, but she fought honorably and did not deceive us to gain any advantage. I don’t have any reason to think she’s lying about being a part of the Resistance. We know for a fact that she has every excuse to hate Hyland and Hart.”
“Very well. I will have Ebisa and Rutha look into her,” Ignas said. “Until then, she shall remain a closely supervised guest at the castle.”
Suri chuffed. “You mean a prisoner.”
“The gentlest form of house arrest, more like it. If she is a member of the Kingsmen, Rutha will be able to vouch for her.” Ignas regarded her with calm, hard eyes. “We cannot be too cautious. Any leak of intelligence could jeopardize our counter-invasion.”
“Understood, sir.” I momentarily had the urge to salute, but squashed the feeling down.
“Anyway, thank you all for promptly replying to my summons.” He moved back to his place at the head of the table. “This is Count Kopecs, one of the commanders in the Black Army, and Admiral Hartz, the commander of the 2ndFleet. Voivode Lanz of Czongrad is also a Black Army officer, and currently serves as my principle military advisor.”
Suri and I inclined our heads to all three of them. Lanz’s return bow was barely a fraction of a nod.
“The 2nd Company returned yesterday, just in time to integrate back into the reserve.” Ignas gestured to the empty chairs. “Please, take your seats. There is much to discuss.”
I studied the centerpiece of the table as I plopped down. One look told me exactly why he was so concerned. Last time we’d been briefed about a mass combat situation in this room, the great table had displayed a diorama of Myszno. Now, it displayed one of Central and Eastern Revala. Cities and major towns in were marked with game pieces, while army positions and controlled settlements were pinned with paper flags of the appropriate color. There were a lot of dark blue and gold flags in the west. They stretched from the Ilian border and formed a salient about two-thirds of the way to Revala’s capital city, Lovi. Blue and gold were the colors of the Ilian Empire.
“Baldr’s already made it that far?” Suri exclaimed in disbelief, moving to her seat. She didn’t sit, leaning on the table to survey the battlefield. “In a month?”
“Yes. Between Revala’s excellent system of roads and the dragons and airships at his command, Hyland’s forces are already preparing for a push toward Queen Aslan’s capitol,” Ignas said heavily, shaking his head. “We cannot let him advance a single step closer to Lovi, and not only because Revala is close to our own borders. In addition to being one of the breadbaskets of Artana, the region around the capital is also a key site for bluecrystal mining.”
Karalti began to fidget with a pair of spare toothpick flags. “Ooh. That’s not good.”
“It really isn’t.” My mind began to tick over as I stared at the crowd of Ilian flags on the map. “My question is, how did all these positions get taken? What is Ororgael’s goal? What are his tactics?”
“Those are three separate questions,” Count Lanz said coolly. He was a small, pale man, with calculating eyes the color of fresh dollar bills. Like Ignas, he was also dressed in a fine uniform, though his was black. “Hyland’s goal is clear enough: conquer the rest of Artana and bring it under his rule. However, his methods are amateurish. A wise strategist would have conquered the rest of the Hercynian nations to form an army capable of facing the combined might of Vlachia and Jeun. Even if he does take Revala, Gilheim is mobilizing behind the mountains. He will be pincered in on both sides. He is an untried fool, Tuun. That is the long and short of it.”
“My title is ‘Voivode’. If you can’t pronounce ‘Dragozin’, Voivode Tuun is fine, assuming you really need to keep waving your dick at me across the table,” I replied tersely.
Suri sucked on a tooth and looked away, biting back a laugh. Ebisa snorted into her hand.
“And as I was saying to my people before, don’t underestimate Ororgael,” I continued, gesturing at the diorama. “The guy’s nearly achieved his objective. This isn’t the work of an ‘untried fool’.”
“We have already discussed this somewhat before your arrival,” Ignas said, pretending not to see Lanz’s scowl. “Our conclusion is that he plans to conquer Revala, fortify the Eastern border, then use the nation’s resources to turn back west and take the offensive to Gilheim.”
“Yes. Hyland’s move to the east seems audacious, even reckless, but intelligence reports suggest that he intends to seal off the Hercyninan Peninsula.” General Kovacs spoke up. “As you can see, Revala shares only a small land border with Jeun in the north-east, while it is separated from us by the Bay of Swords. He could ostensibly fortify those positions, claim Revala’s resources, then hold us off while he moves west. Cut off from the Alliance, those nations will be sitting ducks.”
“Yeah. And he can do it from behind a defensive buffer,” Suri said. “Revala as a shield, to protect Ilia while he mops up.”
“How many troops is he fielding?” I asked, frowning.
“Roughly a hundred thousand, all counted,” Kovacs replied. “Most of them are, shall we say, involuntary volunteers.”
“Slaves,” Suri said flatly.
The general nodded. “Yes. In addition, he fields approximately two hundred and seventy dragon knights, and a navy comprising about a hundred ships of various classes.”
“And Revala?”
“Revala can call on about two hundred thousand troops, plus a navy of three hundred ships.”
“Then how the fuck did they lose all of this?” I gestured to the field of blue and gold flags. “They outnumber Ororgael two to one. Dragons or no dragons, they should have crushed him.”
Ignas vented a soft sound of frustration and shook his head. “Ebisa, repeat your report.”
“Hyland has made his inroads by two means,” Ebisa recited, in her dry, husky voice. “Land vehicles, the likes of which we’ve never seen before, and the dragons.”
“Land vehicles?” Rin perked up, brows furrowing in alarm.
“Yes. They began the campaign by posturing at the border. Then they detonated shells of substantial size and power at the fortresses, smashing walls that have stood for hundreds of years. They must also have had interior intelligence, because the dragons teleported to precise locations, then wreaked havoc on vital supply points. They did not engage directly. They dropped bombs onto granaries, barracks, and other important production centers. Then Ilia’s land force rolled in, fielding these what appear to be human-made Sangheti’tak walkers. Blood-fuel machines, which consume the mana gained from biomass.”
“Sangheti’tak, in human hands!” Rin covered her mouth.
Ebisa gave her an expressionless nod. “These machines tore up Revalan cavalry with exceptional speed. With their supply lines destroyed and their retreat cut off, a wave of surrenders followed.”
“So now we know what Ororgael was doing during those first couple of months,” Suri said, looking over to me, Rin, and Karalti. “Building himself a fuckton of death machines.”
“Revala was able to adapt to this strategy and slow them down, at which point, the commander of the Ilian forces changed tactics,” Ebisa continued, reaching out to draw her finger over a now-conquered defensive line. “He began deploying the dragons directly against the Revalan Navy. They targeted troop carriers.”
“Revala’s navy, while impressive for the Hercynian Region, is nowhere as modern as ours,” Ignas added. “Most countries field only a few hundred ships, some of them quite old. The dragons were able to fly rings around the Revalan Fleet.”
“Yes. And their lightning breath weapons are capable of penetrating and overriding many forms of magical shields,” Ebisa said. “So the ships were forced to retreat, while Ilia’s were able to advance. They began bombing the countryside. Entire towns were reduced to rubble, and this Commander, Lucien Hart, made public displays of poisoning wells and executing the captive families of those who rebelled against the invaders. Many settlements were given the chance to surrender, and they did.”
I rolled my eyes and tipped my head back. “Okay, and what part of this is ‘amateurish’ again?”
“My choice of words was not precise,” Count Lanz said brittly. “Ilia’s tactics are sound, if not brutal. But their campaign will not be able to sustain this kind of energy for long. Not when they are being attacked on two fronts.”
“Then they have a card in play that we don’t know about,” I said. “Allies? The Princeling Nations are embroiled in some kind of conflict of their own, right? Maybe he’s recruited one or more of them. Maybe he’s convinced Gilheim he’s their prophesied god-man in human form. Maybe he’s somehow gotten the fucking Mercurions on board. We don’t know.”
“I have been trying to make this point for some hours now.” Ebisa spread her hands and sat back.
“For the sake of civility, please refrain from cursing at me, Dragozin.” Lanz’s thin mouth sloped down to one side.
“Oh yeah, because my cursing is the real problem here,” I snapped.
“Ebisa. Do we know if these tactics were developed by Hyland, or was Lucien the mastermind?” Suri held up a hand as the Count’s face reddened, and he swelled with an excess of ‘civility’.
She inclined her head. “As far as we know, the general strategy was developed by Hyland and his advisors at the highest levels, but the implementation seems to have been left to Commander Hart.”
“Then Lucien’s gotten smarter,” I said grimly. “Much smarter. And he’s been studying warfare.
“Power-leveling his mental stats?” Suri asked.
“He must be.” I sighed and sat back. “Baldr Hyland served as Powered Armor Infantry in the War, and Ororgael got his memories when he possessed Baldr’s body. So that’s where the PAUs are coming from.”
“P.A.Us?” Ignas asked.
“Powered Armor Units,” I replied. “Think of them as like mini Warsingers. You stick a pilot in a big metal suit that is larger, stronger, and more resilient than a normal infantryman. They can field bigger weapons and soak the kind of fire that would send normal soldiers flying across the battlefield in chunks. They’re not immortal, so the Army and Marines usually fielded one PAU with a fireteam of two rifles, one marksman, one grenadier or machine gunner. Same strategy as protecting tanks, but the powered armor squads were much smaller and a hell of a lot more maneuverable. Incidentally, that’s the tactic I’d use with the Warsinger, too.”
“Squads? Fireteams?” Ignas laced his hands, regarding me curiously. “The army in the world you came from, the world of the Architects, deployed soldiers in small groups of four or five?”
“Sure did,” I said.
“Hmm.” The Volod nodded slowly. “A tactic also used to great effect by the barbarian raiders of the Sathbar Plains.”
“That makes sense only if the soldiers are Starborn and can return from the dead,” Count Lanz said stiffly. “Barbarian tactics break against fortress walls. We fight in disciplined formations in Vlachia.”
“Right, and your disciplined formations lost two-thirds of a country in a month,” I quipped back. “We just utilized maneuver warfare tactics to retake Bas County and execute the robber baron occupying Solonovka in a single night. Less than two hundred of my soldiers reclaimed the castle and capital from an occupying force of over two thousand.”
General Kovacs looked to Ignas in disbelief. A wry smile played over Ignas’ thin lips, his grey eyes calculating and bright with interest.
“And how many did you lose in this mad gambit?” Count Lanz asked.
“Eighteen,” Suri answered.
“Did I mishear you? Eighteen men?” Lanz scoffed. “My liege, do you believe this nonsense?”
“I do. Because I can verify their story,” Ignas replied, resting his face against the tips of his fingers. “The Royal Kingdom Management System does not lie, Voivode Lanz. The Lord and Lady of Myszno did indeed stage and succeed in their operation against the deserter, Zoltan Gallo. They deployed barely two hundred souls, drawing from elite Yanik native forces and a Meewfolk mercenary company. They suffered eighteen fatalities, but they slew just under four hundred of Zoltan’s men as well as Zoltan himself. The rest surrendered after a brief battle in the city.”
At mention of the cat people, the other men at the table grimaced.
“To be honest, I don’t think we should assume Ororgael’s goals at this stage. We need a solid idea of why he’s doing what he’s doing,” Suri said, after a tense pause. “The fact he has us on the defensive proves there’s something we’re not seeing.”
“Right.” I nodded. “He’s shown us again and again that he’s capable of putting us in a position where we have to try and figure him out, and when we think we’ve worked out what he wants, he rips the rug out from under us.”
Rin glanced nervously at us both, then to Ignas and General Kovacs. “What does Vlachia plan to do?”
“We plan nothing short than a total assault,” the general said. “We have overwhelming numbers compared to Ilia. Our soldiers outnumber Ilian forces three to one, which is an ideal situation for a counter-invasion. Our airships are considerably more advanced than Revala or Ilia’s. We have developed defenses against their dragons, and weapons to destroy them.”
“DESTROY them?” Karalti rose in alarm, her pupils pinning. “You can’t destroy them! Those are my people!”
Lanz and the two officers flinched as the telepathic broadcast suddenly intruded into their minds - and then they looked to Karalti, as it dawned on them who and what she was.
“Oh, ehh... apologies, your Holiness. I was not aware you were here.” The Admiral cleared his throat.
“They’re innocent! Baldr is enslaving my kin with powerful magic, compelling them to fight in this war,” Karalti continued, pleading. “You can’t kill them! W-We need to capture them, or... or SOMETHING.”
“My lady, as someone who lost his father to the violent machine of politics, I understand your distress.” Ignas’ long, lean face was even more graven than usual. “It is neither fair nor just that your people are being used as slaves to fight a despot’s war. But we cannot change the fact that the dragons crushed Queen Aslan’s supply lines, her garrisons, and her villages and farmland. They will destroy us if given the chance. We must face them without flinching - and we will. It is the cold mathematics of war.”
I sighed heavily. “I’m sorry, Karalti. He’s right.”
“But...” Karalti searched our faces, her own expression crumpling. “There isn’t any way?”
“There has to be some way to stun dragons without killing them,” Rin said. “A sonic weapon could do it.”
“We have no such technology, and no time to develop it,” Ignas replied. “The knowledge that we must battle the children of the Nine pains me more than words can express. Your people are sacred to us, and I can only hope that you and the gods can forgive us once all is said and done. If you cannot bear to continue this conversation, you may leave the meeting without shame.”
I reached for Karalti’s hand, hoping to comfort her, but she jerked it away before I even so much as brushed her fingers. She turned and stalked from the room, slamming the door behind her.
“She’s a Queen dragon,” I said, before anyone could make any snide remarks. “The dragons of the Eyrie are her brothers and sisters. They were all born of the same mother.”
“She can’t command them because of the curse placed upon her relatives, correct?” Ignas asked me.
“Yeah.” I struggled with the urge to kick the underside of the table. “We were planning to try and find some way to break the geas before it came to this, but we’re just not strong enough yet.”
“ Then the best thing we can do is to fight to win as quickly as possible.” Suri cocked her chin toward the map. “Do that, and we minimize casualties on both sides. There’s only a single company of dragons, and as soon as Lucien figures out that Vlachia can stand toe to toe with them, he’ll pull them back out of the firing line.”
“That is our hope.” Ignas nodded. “Our goal at this juncture is to remove Lucien Hart, then push his forces back through sheer attrition. The Ilian army is as motivated as they are, in part, because their leaders are immortal. If the leader is captured and they scatter as a result, they will be overwhelmed by our numbers.”
“He’s Starborn, though,” Rin said. “You can’t kill him.”
“Obviously not. We will imprison him. We may even smuggle him to your castle, if you have a spare cell.”
“I will be more than happy to brick him up in Kalla Sahasi and pass him food through a slot for the rest of his miserable life,” I said.
“Excellent. And I will send a work crew to assist.” Ignas paused to chuckle. “We have reinforcements coming from Dakhdir and Jeun. A massive show of force will put Hyland in his place, at least for a time: long enough for us to send aid to Gilheim and the Princeling Nations of Hercynia.”
“I don’t know if relying on Dakhdir for anything is a good idea,” I replied. “Sultir whats-his-face is crazier than a shithouse rat. Violetta, who leads the Mata Argis as Baldr’s other lieutenant, was there with her agents. They’re feeding the Sultir’s fear of being deposed by Suri.”
“Deposed? By a Fireblooded?” General Kovacs gave her a curious look. “No offence, my Lady, but the Fireblooded are of low status in Dakhdir. Why should he be concerned about you?”
“She IS Starborn,” Count Lanz said drily.
“I’m the direct descendant of Queen Sachara Ha’Shazir,” Suri replied, ignoring Lanz. “The dynasty overthrown four generations ago in a bloody coup by the Sultir’s ancestors.”
“Ah. Yes. Well, I can see how that would lead to anxiety.” The general’s doughy face creased into thoughtful lines. “We do know that Khemmemu is an unstable man. It has been an issue ever since he inherited the throne. If the Mata Argis are there, your Majesty, can we be certain Dakhdir will honor the terms of the Alliance?”
“We have spies and influencers in the Sultir’s court as well. If he reneges on the Alliance, he knows that Jeun and Vlachia will level devastating trade sanctions,” Ignas said. “Dakhdir is mostly wasteland, as is all of the Shalid. Without Vlachian food and Jeun mana, the Sultir’s people will starve. He is nervous, but not foolish. We can always sell our surplus to Jeun, or with our new long-range airships, even to Lys.”
“I’m worried about this,” I said. “Something about the situation feels off to me. Baldr and Lucien are setting something up. They have to know that the Alliance will respond with their fleets in force. They have to expect this response. So why is a small military force inviting a counter invasion?”
“He’s right,” Rin said. “Strategically speaking, it would only make sense for him to invade Revala if he thought he had some kind of edge.”
“He is vastly outnumbered and outgunned. He is also overconfident in his dragons and his fancy Mercurion toys,” Count Lanz said dismissively. “There is no grand strategy in his invasion of Revala. Had he gone west, he might have stood a chance at consolidating an empire that would be of serious threat to the combined might of Jeun, Vlachia, and Dakhdir. But Hyland and Hart are not thinking that far ahead. They are both drunk on the power of being immortals. Why should they care if they lose once or twice? They always have time to wait and try again. They think of themselves as gods. “
“Literally,” I said, shooting Lanz a dark look. “Baldr is the figurehead of the Cult of the Architect. You know, the cult that Andrik was part of?”
My rival Voivode grimaced. “Indeed.”
“Your Majesty: please tell me you’re not going into the area of operations yourself.” Rin looked to Ignas. “Something isn’t right about this. It feels like a setup.”
“Unfortunately, I must. A king does not shelter behind his men: he leads. But what is your opinion, Kovacs?” Ignas looked to his general.
General Kovacs hummed. “It is my opinion that the risk of your participation in the battle is within acceptable limits. With Ebisa standing unsleeping by your side, assassination is unlikely. We are taking all precautions, and Hyland simply doesn’t have the numbers to face us head on.”
“He won’t face you head on,” I said, more urgently. “He’ll maneuver around you and strike at something important. It might not even be Ignas who’s at risk. It might be Taltos.”
“Parliament and His Majesty voted this morning: I will be acting regent while Vlachia is at war, and I assure you that I will not permit any harm to come to my city,” Count Lanz said. “The First Fleet is on standby to defend Taltos.”
“We should have been at that vote.” Suri’s eyes narrowed.
“You were campaigning in Bas, and thus unavailable.” Count Lanz gestured dismissively. “Your own Steward, Istvan Arshak, filed a Leave of Absence due to your being engaged in mass combat operations.”
“Legit.” I scratched the side of my nose. “Well, Your Majesty, I guess the only question now is what role you want us to play. You summoned us for a reason.”
“Yes. The Warsinger.” Ignas sat back in his chair, one leg crossed over the other knee. “I need a report.”
“Well, we found her. Withering Rose was sleeping in Dakhdir. She was still in good condition, worked just fine until it ran out of mana.” Suri replied. “And after it fell over from lack of fuel, Baldr Hyland showed up to personally ruin our day.”
General Kovacs straightened. So did Ebisa and the Admiral.
“Implying…?” Ignas gestured to her.
“Withering Rose is a wreck.” Suri’s expression turned stormy. “Ororgael called some super-beam magic from the sky and cored out part of the Warsinger. The pieces of it are lying all over the Bashir Desert.”
“Pieces? Khors’ hammer, that is not good news.” Ignas’ brow furrowed. “If it was so easily destroyed, perhaps the machines’ power was overstated?”
“No, it’s not. At full operational capacity, the Warsinger is incredible. We all saw Suri unleash some kind of energy weapon that killed eight or nine sandworms in one strike,” Rin said. “A three-thousand-year-old machine, with less than 2% fuel and less than 5% integrity, and it shredded those sandworms like they were nothing. It was... awe-inspiring.”
Suri pressed her lips together in a tight, stubborn line.
“That is... there is no weapon on Archemi capable of such an act.” Ignas looked to his officers, who looked almost as awed as he did. “Stunning. If we get the pieces, can it be fixed?”
Rin nodded eagerly. “We - and by that, I mean, me and Lord Soma and the Engineers College of Litvy - need more information on how they’re constructed. He’s been trying to reverse-engineer the prototype Warsinger we captured, but has had no success so far. The construction and magical encoding is just so alien compared to current artificing. But if we could figure this out, then the possibilities are endless. We could create airship or ground weapons that make use of their technology, for example, or rediscover principles of metallurgy lost in time.”
“Indeed. If this Warsinger is capable of such power, we must have it,” Ignas said. “That is what I ask of you all now.”
“Ororgael has part of it, we think,” I said. “But...”
“Hey, before you keep going, don’t say anything more about what happened to W.R.” A text PM from Rin popped up in my HUD, narrated aloud when I noticed it. “I have an idea.”
“But?” Ignas quirked an eyebrow.
“But we can replace the part,” I said quickly. “So it shouldn’t be an issue.”
“Excellent. Know that you have our full support.” Ignas bowed from the neck. “Let me issue you some added incentive.”
[You have a new Quest: Bounty - The Warsingers]
I opened the quest, and let Navigail read it aloud.
New Bounty: The Warsingers
Ignas Corvinus II, the Volod of Vlachia, is offering a substantial bounty for the safe return of the Warsingers to Vlachian soil. Complete this bounty by salvaging the Warsingers or their key components, and returning them to Vlachia.
Rewards: 20,000 olbia and 5000 EXP per Warsinger.
I whistled. “Damn, man... thanks.”
“This is the maximum bounty the system allows me to offer,” Ignas said. “That alone should tell you how important I consider the retrieval of these artifacts to be. Hyland is fielding soldier-piloted versions of these machines, and it’s a matter of time before he improves this technology and normal infantry becomes obsolete. We need to outpace his advancements.”
Lanz’s eyes flicked to Ignas. “Infantry? Obsolete? With all respect, Your Majesty, that seems a bit extreme.”
Ignas shook his head. “I fear it is not.”
“There’s always a need for boots on the ground, but yeah. It’s a risk.” I cast one final look down at the map, making sure I had a copy of it in my HUD. “We’ll see what we can do. To be honest, though, we probably need a fleet ourselves. The Warsinger is currently guarded by a Stranged Sandworm. It’s Level 120.”
“You have pulled off two military miracles in the time I’ve known you. With Rin at your side, I believe you will find a way to defeat it and claim Lady Suri’s birthright.” Ignas watched us as Rin got to her feet. “But no matter what, the four of you must get that Warsinger and keep it out of Hyland’s hands. The Gods shudder to think what this Architect could do with such power in his possession.”
