“Few, if any. No dead yet, but a few nasty hits from mages when we took the walls,” Aaron answered, a confident grin on his face. He had been running my logistics and keeping track of my soldiers for nearly five years now. His knack for staying on top of paperwork amidst even absolute chaos made him a natural for the position. One did not hold off an inhuman barbarian horde year after year with raw strength, and Aaron knew it.
“What’s our next move, General? We’ll need to move swiftly if we hope to have the Bulwark reinforced before winter breaks. Once the oni realize…” Ilsa trailed off, looking grim.
“We’re going to do absolutely nothing, Ilsa,” I said, my tone more personal now that the battle was over and formalities were finished. “In fact, the sooner the oni realize, the better. After all, our next move involves those very oni. Shall we make some bets on how long before they notice and pay us a visit?”
Chapter 2
A member of the scout corps snapped to attention in the doorway of the tower. Ilsa and I were inside, overlooking maps of the region. The scout’s breastplate made a dull thud from his salute, and I looked at him. There were patches of snow on his hair and uniform, as if he had come straight to us from the cold outside. Given the barely contained panic in his eyes, there seemed to be a good reason for him to report directly to us.
“General, two oni are approaching rapidly from the north. Both full-blooded and riding on wingless griffins. Your orders?”
The professionalism of his words belied the panic in his voice. Unsurprising. The oni were viewed as bloodthirsty barbarian monsters by most within the Empire. I was glad to see that he maintained his composure during his duties.
“Maintain distance but keep an escort to the fortress. Do not engage under any circumstances. Use flares if necessary,” I said, almost by rote. I already knew that the scouts would not need to cast any flares, but it would set them at ease. Knowing help was close at hand always calmed the mind.
Case in point, the scout visibly relaxed at the reminder. He saluted once more with a thud and disappeared down the stairs of the tower.
Ilsa watched me from the other side of the table we were standing over. Despite the cold, she hadn’t worn her battle robes and instead favored the black and blue officer’s uniform. Her cloak, hair neatly tucked behind it, was the only defense she had against the sleet falling outside.
When my eyes lingered on her a little too long, she gave me a smile that made her thoughts toward me clear. I had best keep my eyes to myself unless I intended to invite her to my bed. She remained silent but was still smiling, so I was left to my thoughts.
A week. That was all it had been. It was almost eerie how quickly the oni could react to a change in the Bulwark. Some might say it was stranger still how they could track me down. However, I had confirmed long ago that the oni heralds possessed some magical technique to find me, wherever I might be.
As a result, I had not left the Bulwark for a long time. The last time resulted in the largest onslaught for fifty years. Those were dark memories, dating back to when we first began construction of the Bulwark.
“Is it right to be working with the oni?” Ilsa asked, breaking the silence. “After all the decades that we—that you—have been fighting them, can we simply stop? You’ve buried more friends than any of us.”
“And I’ve buried more oni myself than they’ve killed soldiers under my command.”
“They’re still invaders, General,” she said with a frown. “I’m not sure I appreciate the proverb ‘an enemy of my enemy is a friend.’ Especially when it comes to somebody who has been threatening the heartland of the Empire’s food supply for close to a century now.”
“Why are the oni so hellbent on invading the Empire, Ilsa? They may be barbarians, but they rail against our gates year after year without fail,” I asked, changing the subject.
“That’s…” She trailed off. “The demonic badlands aren’t exactly the most pleasant place to live. Nor is the desert to the north.”
“So they don’t like where they live?” I said, probing Ilsa. This was an old game we played.
Ilsa took a deep breath to steady herself. I suspected that she understood what I was pushing her to say.
“They want food,” she said. “Living in a marsh bordered by desert and wastes can’t keep them fed well enough. But that’s obvious, General. When you took me under your wing, one of the first things you told me about was the oni’s lack of reliable food production. That their ability to send so many adults to the slaughter every year is because they simply can’t feed them. They instead have to churn them up in the meat grinder of the Bulwark in hopes of breaking through. They’re fighting for a future that we deny them.”
“Obvious to me. Obvious to you,” I said. My tone was steady and patient like that of an experienced teacher. “To most, the oni are simply barbarians with no motivations for invading the Empire. They attack us because they can. There’s more to it, and we know it. That they want a brighter future for their people is no different from how we want prosperity for the Empire. It means we can find common cause. We can negotiate and work with one another. The Empire deserves better and we know it. It will just take effort to achieve.”
The sound of footsteps outside interrupted my lesson. I had learned over my long tenure as magister-general that I needed sharp minds to serve as strategists. Ilsa had that type of mind, but it needed shaping.
The report from the soldier stated that the oni were approaching the fortress gates. I picked up my helmet from the table. Still lost in thought, Ilsa did not move.
“The Empire deserves better and we know it…” she said, repeating my words from earlier. “I want a better empire, but does it actually deserve it? I don’t know if I ever saw anything to make me think that. The behavior in the mage towers in our dearest capital was atrocious. The trading of favors, blatant nepotism and cronyism, disparagement of mages considered as lesser—the list goes on, and very little of it is good.”
I sighed. “I haven’t been involved with a mage tower since I wrote my thesis, but yes, they have never been the most… inspiring of places. Even the greatest of minds seemed to succumb eventually.
“However, the mage towers are humanity’s heart of progress. Most of what we know about how the world works has been discovered by a mage tower. Even if they do endlessly bicker over how to control the profits of their inventions and discoveries,” I said.
“But it sounds like the corruption has been there since the start?” Ilsa asked. “That the power the towers gained revealed what they are actually like.”
This statement made me think, but the thoughts were not positive. I wasn’t sure of the answer and fell silent, gesturing to the doorway so we could make our way to meet our guests.
The Rogistran Empire had never been perfect, the people within even less so. Yet it was designed to limit the excesses of any one person. No one mad emperor or prince could ruin nearly a millennium of human progress. Still, it had fallen to corruption. Had the mages been the root cause, given they were a part of every piece of machinery within the Empire?
I remained within my thoughts for some time as we descended the steps that led into the rest of the keep.
Ilsa eventually prodded me back into reality. “You wrote a thesis during your time in the mage towers?”
“The magister part of ‘magister-general’ does require the title. The rank of adept or journeyman isn’t enough. A thesis is the simplest path,” I said with a shrug. The look in her eyes suggested that my answer was not enough, so I elaborated. “It was about the impact the choice of runic language had on the result of rune-crafting.”
At the look of surprise on her face, I gave her a thin smile. “I had a goal in mind. Even if you are already competent enough, actually proving you are experienced and powerful enough for promotion from journeyman to magister takes decades. I’m not sure there has been a magister who has taken that path and is under fifty. A thesis takes a year or two, by c
ontrast.”
“Fifty,” Ilsa muttered. “What about combat magisters? Surely they get through quicker.”
“No. Mage towers have a reputation to maintain, and combat magisters are expected to eliminate small armies by themselves. The bitter bastards that form the old guard of the towers take a dim view of prodigies attempting to shortcut their processes. That includes their one-man armies.”
Ilsa was not even attempting to hide her despair.
“Is that why you came up north?” I asked her. It was hard to resist the urge to laugh when she nodded, but I had to. “Fortunately, it’s not something you need to worry about, given the current situation.”
“That’s true, General,” she said after a pause. “And I can always rely on cronyism from you in the meantime.”
I chuckled, noting that we were in the grand hall now. A handful of soldiers walked back and forth, most of them carrying supplies from the sublevels for companies to use.
“For a start, then, you can try calling me Mykah,” I said. “I trust your advice and I don’t want you standing on protocol or feeling that there’s a gap. Plus, it’s not like I am Magister-General Arium anymore. Rebellion tends to strip one of his titles and rank.”
“I’ll try, General… Mykah.”
It was a start, like this meeting with the oni was intended to be. Six decades of fighting with them and I had never met them peacefully or negotiated with them. The fact that they had even come so swiftly said a lot about the gravity of the situation. Since it was established, the Bulwark had never been left undefended like this, and it wasn’t due entirely to a lack of manpower.
I had theorized that the oni possessed some form of magic that supported their intelligence-gathering abilities. Now I was all but certain of it. No intelligence network could act this fast.
Stepping outside, I saw that the sleet had ceased for the day. Sludge and snow covered the fortress. Two formations of knights formed a guarded path that stretched out the keep’s entrance. I saw Terry standing at the closest end and I signaled him to lower his guard. The order passed down through the knights, and they obeyed, if hesitantly. The reason for their hesitation was obvious.
Two women had passed through the gate, each with a pair of nearly foot-long horns protruding from their foreheads. A pair of wingless white griffins followed behind them. I recognized the closest of the oni immediately: an old friend, or at least as old as an oni could ever get.
The women stopped several meters short of me. Nearly a dozen of my knights fanned out behind them, despite my orders to do otherwise. It irritated me, but the oni remained calm, so I let it be.
“Bulwark Mykah, I thank you for receiving us so genially and with so little notice,” the closest oni said. She spoke perfect Imperial, the language of the Rogistran Empire. It was the first time I had heard her speak. Any other time I had encountered her involved considerably more bloodshed.
Her long hair was white, in stark contrast to her red eyes and horns. The Imperial emblems on her breastplate had long since been scratched out. It had also been reworked to fit her more impressive bust size.
“I am Miyasa, herald of the last oni clan, the Deridh. This is Vasi, who speaks for the mothers of all oni,” Miyasa continued, maintaining eye contact with me. “Bulwark, allow us to hear your terms for passage for the oni into the Rogistran Empire. Then we shall form an agreement this day.”
Chapter 3
The Herald of the Oni was the closest thing to my equal within the oni. Countless duels, both physical and strategic, had proven this over the decades as the oni attempted to best me. Only the heralds had ever come close.
They broke through the defensive lines of the Bulwark, wounded me in duels, and outmaneuvered me on battlefronts. The dedication of the heralds to ensuring my defeat made them fantastic military leaders. If the oni would one day live in the lands of the Empire and make use of its agricultural bounty, it was due to the heralds.
There was one problem, however. Only a single herald existed at any one time. I had never understood why this was. Often, the replacement herald was as strong or even stronger than the prior one.
The Empire understood that concentrating strength in one person was dangerous. That was why multiple magister-generals were appointed, alongside a multitude of other commanders and heroes. Yet the oni only ever mustered a single commander capable of matching me. A mystery that I had a theory about, but nothing more.
Now this same warrior was asking for peace, in spite of decades dedicated to trying to crush me. This was the first negotiation I had conducted with any oni, herald or not, despite the decades of conflict I had lived through.
“It’s a nice change to be able to simply talk for once,” I said. My eyes were drawn past Miyasa, toward the griffins behind her. “Although we haven’t actually spoken before. It’s our first true meeting.”
“It is an honor to meet you,” Miyasa answered immediately, nearly tripping over her words. “As it is for any herald to meet the Bulwark. That we meet not to fight, as all of my ancestors have, but for a new beginning is… complicated.”
The look on the other oni’s face could be described the same way. I had a hunch that Miyasa was being a touch more honest about her feelings than she should have been, given the intended formality of the meeting. This was more my style, so I encouraged it. Courts, diplomacy, and such drove me to drink, and I was not a pleasant drunk. It was fortunate that my alcohol tolerance was the stuff of legends.
“Sometimes, complicated is the way life needs to be for everybody to get what they want,” I said, my voice quiet enough that I doubted even the nearby knights heard it. If it wasn’t for the wind, the only sound in the clearing would be my voice and Miyasa’s. “You take fantastic care of your griffins. They’re a rare sight, even this close to the mountains. I keep meaning to raise another.”
“You had one before?” Miyasa asked.
I nodded, a little caught up in the past. “A beautiful black-feathered one, yes. His name was Ein. He fell in the chaos of your predecessor’s final attempt on my life. I miss him. But I can’t imagine a better time and place for a warrior to have fallen.”
Miyasa returned my nod with her own. Her gaze wandered to the griffins. Both her and Vasi grew more anxious with each passing second. Silence reigned for some time, neither oni willing to look at me. The knights shifted from side to side. The cold got to some. Terry even rubbed his hands together to warm them up.
Although it might be interesting to wait until the sleet returned just to see the oni’s reaction, I still broke the silence. “I think it’s time we stepped inside. Important matters are best discussed somewhere warmer.”
“Could you spare some of that warmth for us, sir?” Terry jeered.
“I think very highly of your ability and professionalism. Warm enough?” I said.
“My face is overheating already. I might need to see a medic.” He winked. “Alright, ladies and gents, back to your posts.”
As I led the two oni into the keep with Ilsa at my side, the mage whispered to me, “Professionalism?”
“Terry keeps the knights in line and doing their duties. That’s professional. The rest is a charade,” I muttered back, although I was loud enough for the oni behind me to hear.
I glanced back and tried to read their reaction to Terry’s behavior. “Complicated” did not do the faces of the two oni justice.
If I had to guess—and I was guessing, as I barely knew the two women—I would say that Miyasa was mostly confused. Terry had blatantly breached protocol during a historic meeting, and I did not care, whereas Vasi clearly disapproved but was still obviously thoughtful rather than judgmental.
Miyasa had introduced Vasi as the “voice of the mothers,” which seemed to be a diplomatic title. What little I knew of the mothers was that they were the political leaders of the oni. For all I knew, Vasi was a veritable noble.
In truth, Vasi struck me as the calculating sort, which was not surprising. Diplomats w
ere more aware of the politics surrounding them, even if Miyasa seemed to hold the reins of the negotiation right now. But I somehow knew that Vasi was waiting for her moment to step in. My experience in the courts of the Empire had taught me a lot about her type.
The grand hall was as empty as before, save for one new addition. Aaron was standing by the throne, notebook in hand. The magically generated warmth of the keep made this the perfect place to patiently wait for our return. The keep’s protective warding was necessary to prevent more cunning mages from boiling or freezing the inhabitants alive, but it had a more normal use. It ensured the keep remained pleasantly toasty compared to outside. The same applied to the interiors of the walls, turrets, and other fortifications of the fortress, but to a lesser degree.
I strode up to the throne, which was still coated in decades of dust. I paused and reconsidered what I had already decided several times before to do.
I sat on the throne. Ilsa’s and Aaron’s faces remained unmoved, although they nodded at my action. In contrast, Miyasa’s lit up. Her red eyes seemed to almost sparkle, and she held herself with even more confidence, pushing out her large chest even more. Only Vasi did not react; she was merely watching and calculating.
“You said terms for passage, Herald Miyasa?” I said to her, leaning back against the stone behind me. “That seems awfully shortsighted of you. It’s not passage that is on offer.”
“What then?” Miyasa said, excitement written on her face.
“The very thing that the oni want more than anything else. Land. Agricultural land, in plentiful quantity and without a sword hanging over your heads that I can drop at any moment, should you displease me.
“The terms are simple. The oni get the Nahaum Pass, including the fortresses that make up the Arium Bulwark, and as much land as you care to take to the south and west. In exchange, I get the military might of the oni. You must also ensure the safety of existing inhabitants who surrender.”
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