by Ink Bamboo
The insides of the fort brimmed with activity as both veteran rebels and recruits mingled together in practiced military drills. Grunts echoed inside the fort’s walls of stone as groups of burly men thrusted their spears into bodies made of hay. A few glanced at the strangers passing by, but nobody skipped a beat in the execution of their duties. Training was their priority given the war in their horizon.
The newcomers felt impressed as they watched over the troops’ shoulders. Their discipline during training was enough to warrant plenty of admiration. Those bound to the middle of the supply chain rarely had a chance to witness the troops acting this seriously.
The sound of whistling arrows added to the overture of war. No archer amongst the rebels’ ranks was willing to lose the chance to practice a few more shots before the incoming battle. Every merit they earned during the war would reflect in their status during the kingdom’s restructuring.
All in all, the scene reflected everyone’s hopes during the incoming battle.
Arkus saw the effort of the troops and nodded his head in approval. He felt satisfied regarding their efforts.
“I see you have kept a good grip on them,” said Arkus, facing an old friend of his.
The man in question turned around. Grey hair followed his motion, positioning itself in front of his eyes. The coarse skin on his hands moved it away, revealing the crimson eyes that laid beneath.
“Arkus, brother, I’m glad to see you’re as energetic as ever.”
“Nonsense,” answered the bronze-skinned titan, his arms meeting around his friend’s back. “It is me who is glad to see you, friend.”
Both men separated, their arms returning to their sides. Additional pleasantries would have to wait. Having dealt with their greetings, it was time to get to business.
“How are the troops?” Arkus asked. “Were they able to prepare everything?”
“Yes,” replied the crimson-eyed commander. “Quite a gruesome task that was. Whoever came up with that plan has a twisted sense of humor.”
Arkus simply shrugged him off. He could still recall Jan’s wicked smile as he concocted this plan. The old strategist truly had one or two screws loose.
“Did you get an estimate on how many bodies we were able to find?” asked Arkus.
“A little over 300 if we only count enemy soldiers,” answered the commander.
Arkus nodded his head, a cautious frown appearing on his face. “Are you positive there are none of ours? It would be devastating for our side’s morale if they witnessed our own troops being affected.”
“Affirmative. We sweep the battlefield to recover the bodies of our troops on a regular basis. You know the drill. Most of the folks around here carry faith in their deities and therefore wish to be buried with befitting rites.”
Hearing those words, Arkus’s expression turned a bit more solemn. “I do,” he said, “don’t forget I’ve carried the bodies myself.”
A gloomy atmosphere rested on both of the military powerhouses, forcing the gray haired-man to bring the topic back to its original course. “Anyway, we dug the trenches and hid the corpses within as you ordered. We made sure to make it so they were not visible to the naked eye.”
“Thanks, Morgan.” said Arkus. “It must have not been easy.”
“It wasn’t,” said Morgan, not a hint of courtesy on his voice. “But I’m sure everyone will agree it was worth the hassle if it wins us this damned battle.”
Arkus laughed, implying that was a given. He also had to reach a compromise with himself before agreeing to Jan’s plan. The act of defiling corpses in such a way was far beyond any psychological tactic he had ever heard of.
“Anyway, we should get going.”
Both men walked together to a tent separate from the rest of the encampment. Within it lay the command center for the rebels. The heavy linen walls made for an excellent cover from the night’s wind. With the use of a few posts and strings, the structure had been expanded to accommodate the council and all the relevant military personnel under their control.
Once they arrived, the party would be said to be complete. Five councilmen, ten officers, and twenty-two adjutants, two for each officer and two additional ones working under Arkus. A simple military structure where each commander led a troop ranging from fifty to a hundred soldiers. Of course, on top of them was the council who made their orders known through Arkus.
“This is ridiculous,” said someone inside.
“It’s nonsense, we’re winning this war of attrition, there’s no need for us to rush this war.”
“I agree with them,” said someone else. “Richard, you must have been blinded.”
Repeated echoes of dissent could be heard from within the tent. Quarrels of disagreement and the occasional murmurs backing them up formed an opposing force to the plan the council had structured on their own. As much as they claimed unity in their recruitment drive, the rebels were just as divided as the kingdom they opposed.
Facing this criticism, Richard didn’t say anything to defend himself. He stood quietly, taking it all. Moments like these were fundamental to realizing who he could really trust in his inner circle.
That changed, however, once Arkus came through the makeshift door. The bronze-skinned man’s imposing stature and demeanor called all eyes to himself, making the unruly troops realize their party was over.
His icy-cold gaze scraped across their skin, provoking a chill to rise deep from within their cores. The complaints ceased in a flash, leaving behind only obedient troops waiting for their captain to speak.
A grim smile appeared on the unruly titan as he took the scene in with his eyes. Morgan, whom he usually called a friend, simply sighed, realizing he would do better by staying out of it. Never did he think his fellow officers would be foolish enough to criticize a plan Arkus himself supported. Lack of obedience never played well with their commander.
“Well, well,” said Arkus, placing his hand on the command table. “I disappear for a few minutes and I come back to find a rising insurrection in my ranks. Have I been absent for that long?”
Silence filled the room. Nobody wanted to be the first to speak. They were trying to avoid their captain’s well known rage. Once he made a target of someone, they wouldn’t be able to escape his wrath.
Richard, Nolan, and Jan could be seen smiling as Katherine let out a soft giggle. They waited to see who would be the first to openly stand against Arkus. Silence was deadly to those with weak spirits.
“Sir Arkus,” said one of the adjutants, shakingly taking a step forward. “We simply request an explanation. Summoning all of us so suddenly for war, just what the hell is happening? I know the Kingdom is gathering troops in the border, but that shouldn’t merit a reaction of this size. If we go ahead with this plan, we’re simply ensuring mutual destruction.”
Hearing the man, Arkus nodded his head, giving him more time to continue.
The commanders, however, took that as a sign of weakness. Instead of continuing politely, a succession of complaints made their way out of their mouths. Some agreed with the adjutant while others simply expressed their own concerns.
It was clear to see from their comments how Richard and Jan had limited the flow of information to their inner circle. Only officers like Morgan, whose loyalty couldn’t be questioned, were fully explained the plan involving the undead. This was all part of their plan.
Arkus smiled, realizing the adjutant who first spoke was nothing but a mouthpiece for his officer. He didn’t get mad, for he was aware of Richard’s intentions in causing the small chaos within this room. However, he wasn’t going to allow the chaos to continue. Richard was more than likely done collecting the list of men and women he would use for the next stage of their plan.
“Your worries,” said Arkus, “are something easy to solve.”
Silence fell amongst the opposition. They hadn’t expected that particular answer from Arkus. Instead, they had expected a lesson about loyalty, a motivational speech
or a negotiation regarding post-war benefits.
Arkus knew the other party’s doubts were not without a place. Fortunately for him, this meeting had been summoned as soon as they arrived. Had they been given some time to mingle with the recruits, they would have found the answers to their questions on their own.
Seeing the situation, Arkus turned towards his own adjutants and gave a brief order, “Bring them in.”
“Yes, sir.”
After a few minutes, both adjutants returned. This time, however, they were not on their own. A new group of guests came through after them. It was none other than the church’s group. They had arrived before them, hidden in the vicinity until Arkus and his crew arrived.
As Magnus and his party removed their cloaks, the group inside the tent came to a shocking realization. Those who had been told of it beforehand were amused seeing the expressions of those who had not. Magnus’s appearance was unmistakable to them. How could it not? Before the rebels came to be in Nyx, he had been the biggest threat to their kingdom.
Gasps of shock and amusement filled the room. Was this the key to their victory? An alliance with their enemies of old?
Magnus waited for them to calm down. Behaving like a shameless old man, he didn’t shy away from the veiled hints of hatred displayed by those inside the tent. He was willing to bear with it all in order to accomplish the mission binding Erin to an oath.
He was her protector and her guardian, but most importantly, her grandfather.
Coming to his senses, the adjutant who first faced Arkus spoke his thoughts, “Commander, what exactly is he doing here?”
“He,” said Arkus, pointing to Magnus, “is the reason we will win this war.”
Richard smiled, realizing it was his time to join in the conversation. “Yes,” he said. “We made an agreement with the Church of Light. They will provide us with some help during this battle.”
“I thought the church didn’t involve itself with war,” said one of the officers. “Not unless it is in their own interests.”
“Yes,” said another. “Why would the Church of Light be interested in helping us?”
Magnus smiled, listening to all their inquiries before offering an answer. “I can see your concerns, gentlemen. But you don’t have to worry, the church is interested in your victory.”
“We have only asked one small condition,” he continued. “In exchange for our help, Richard has promised to provide funds and assistance to build chapels across all of Nyx’s towns, villages and settlements.”
A few officers and adjutants seemed placated by Magnus’s answer. Others, however, remained hesitant. “So,” said one of them, “how exactly is the church going to provide us assistance?”
Magnus didn’t answer. Instead, he turned to look at Jan urging him to continue. The old strategist and Richard had requested he give up the divine weapon for their own experiments. As such, he expected them to answer that one particular question.
“The church has provided us with this,” said Jan, taking an old rosewood box from under his cloak. The glyphs and carvings on the wooden container were a prelude to the value of that which it held inside. Passing it off to Arkus and taking a few steps back, he continued, “I present to you, the key to our victory.”
Following Jan’s words, Arkus opened the box, revealing its contents to those inside the tent. Even those who had been previously told about the existence of the small marble were surprised once they got an opportunity to see it. The feeling of pressure it evoked was enough to put most of them on guard.
“It’s our victory,” someone muttered. Instincts alone were enough for him to know the lethality behind that small object.
A brief explanation later, faces brimming with excitement could be seen inside the tent. Humans were often united in the face of benefits. Greed, ambition, and hunger for power — all of them were powerful incentives to put differences aside.
“That being the case,” said Richard, “I need some of you to step aside from this war, focusing your energies on sustaining this artifact. I promise this task won’t go unrewarded. Are any of you willing to volunteer?”
Immediately, many amongst the group raised their hands. As officers and adjutants, their battle prowess was exceptional, sufficient to power the artifact held in Arkus’s hands. Realizing they could reap rewards without risking their lives in the frontlines, none of them hesitated to offer themselves to be part of this plan.
Aside from Richard’s party, however, the rest remained ignorant to the price of their desires. When Richard requested volunteers to use the marble, he had made sure to first consider those who had most eagerly opposed him moments ago.
They were all unaware that atop the walls of the fort a lonely figure seemed to disagree with their ambition. He stared at what would become a battlefield aloof and apathetic, the sober realization of humanity’s unchanging nature reminding him of his own stubbornness. He acted neither on greed nor desire. Instead, he only followed his sense of duty.
Amro removed the hood covering his face, gazing into the stars filling the night sky. His host’s amber eyes were covered by a sheen of white as the former God of Death once again sat to read the flow of fate. Fleeting strings of information slowly formed an image, one he was sure she had also seen.
“Soon,” he said, “I’m looking forward to seeing you again.”
Chapter 19
Gluing the pieces together.
*Crash!*
The sound of glass shattering against stone replaced the silence inside a room. A crimson puddle next to the fragments of crystal revealed that it wasn’t the first piece of tableware that ended that way. Nor was it going to be the last.
*Crash!*
Following the sound of a bottle breaking, the one responsible for this chaos finally spoke his mind. “My father has gone senile!” he snarled. Locks of auburn-shaded hair fell on his eyes, hiding the rage contained within. “He’s lost it!”
To his side, a man dressed in servant clothing tried to placate his rage. “Prince, please control your wrath, we’ve already been over this. At the very least, I must insist you don’t speak of your father in such terms.”
“Shut up!” came the thunderous reply. “This is his way of teaching me a lesson.”
“I must disagree, my prince,” answered the mild-mannered servant. “This is his way of giving you a chance to win back the nobles’ support.”
“Win it back?” questioned the prince. “That’s absurd! The kingdom is mine by birthright, those parasites have no say over it.”
On one side of the room stood a blonde-haired youth. Barely crossing the 20 years of age, he was the heir to the throne for the Kingdom of Nyx. He had once provided his father a simple yet effective plan to seize the resources south of their kingdom. Unfortunately, for reasons unknown to him, the troops he had sent had been decimated. The investigations conducted by his subordinates had revealed they were all killed along their original victims, something to be blamed on the Church of Death.
To his side stood the man responsible for his upbringing. In more ways than one, he was the prince’s fatherly figure. It was the butler who had served his family for decades and had taken care of the prince ever since he was born. Because of that, he could afford to speak with the prince more casually than the rest of his aides.
“Your majesty,” said the well-mannered servant, “you know the current state of the kingdom better than myself. As such, I hope you can understand why further in-fighting wouldn’t be beneficial.”
As he spoke, the servant carefully removed the remaining wine bottles from the prince’s side. It would be a shame for more of them to end up in the ground.
“Your father just wants to strengthen your image with the rest of the nobles. When you inherit the throne, you will appreciate his efforts,” added the servant, storing the wine bottles safely in a chest.
Listening to matters of the throne, the prince’s rage simmered down. “You’re right,” he said, momentarily
comforted by his aide’s words. Alcohol had robbed him of his better judgment for a moment. “Succeeding my father when the kingdom is in such a state would open too many doors for those opportunistic parasites to make their moves. Those greedy pigs won’t give up the chance to take control unless I show sufficient strength.”
“I’m glad you have come back to your senses, my lord.”
“However,” said the prince, a cold tone accompanying his voice, “my father’s behavior isn’t normal as of late.”
“I dare not to presume the meaning of your words, my lord.”
“Have you not noticed it, Johan? Ever since he met with those wandering merchants, he has not behaved like himself.”
Hearing the prince’s words, the butler couldn’t help but lower his head. “Your lowly servant wouldn’t dare speak ill of the king, my lord.”
“Johan,” said the prince, placing a hand over his servant’s shoulder. “This matter could very well concern the safety of our kingdom, I hereby order you to speak your mind.”
Flustered, the servant found no option but to raise his gaze. Upon seeing the serious expression in the prince’s eyes, he realized his words weren’t without basis.
“My lord,” he said, forcing himself to speak, “it is as you say. I’ve heard other servants speak of his majesty’s strange temperament as of late.”
“Explain,” ordered the prince.
“As you know, his majesty received the group of merchants transporting wares from the mainland. Not only did they carry strange alchemical solutions, they even carried weapons of extraordinary quality. Because of that, his majesty decided to meet with them personally.”
“I know that much,” said the prince. “Get to the point.”
“As you wish, my lord. From what I heard, the maids at the palace mention, his majesty seems to have fallen in-love with a particular sword sold by the merchants. He carries it with him everywhere, refusing to leave it behind even when he meets the royal concubines.”