“You’re aware I can hear you?” Celia asked, amused.
“These diverse peoples,” the princess said slowly and clearly, “have come to aid us, Lint. I will not have you insult them. Open these gates or declare yourself a rebel. We have little time for petty squabbles.”
It was nice to hear the princess be so firmly on their side, but Celia wondered how different this conversation might have been if Maiv were not in such desperate straits. More concerning, what would happen when a mostly autonomous Maiv no longer needed constant support from the government in Soul’s Rest? Her Master would have to keep a very close eye on them. At least they had already agreed to not form an independent army.
A commotion sounded from behind the human army before the gates of Golan slowly swung open. The drafted peasants pushed against each other to make way for the ten red-and-black robed men and women flanked by a heavily armored and armed escort. All of their outfits bore stylized flames, with red and black feathers adorning them.
“Adara’s Order of the Flame,” Lucienne whispered to Celia, before turning back to face the older man hurriedly leading his troupe to join them.
“Marshal Lint, do not insult our guests any longer!” the man said, his hand grasping a scepter of a stylized phoenix.
“High Priest, how good of you to join us,” the marshal said dryly. “I thought you and the order would never leave the temple.”
“Our Lady Adara has ordained us to treat the Fallen as if they were her own. The populace has already been informed of their Lady’s deference.”
“I doubt that deference will hold once they see their children being eaten by insects and their homes crushed by those creatures!”
“Enough!” Lucienne said with a sharp gesture of her hand. “Marshal Lint, this is your last chance. I am ordering you to open those gates.”
“I will do no such thing,” the marshal barked back. “I will crush this abomination you have brought with you against our walls, then march to free our brothers and sisters in Bastion. As was the plan before you gave up on your country.”
“Marshal Lint!” the Head Priest cried. When the marshal turned to address him, Lucienne pulled a pin from her hair.
Celia was just about to stop her with the princess shoved the sharp pin against the marshal’s neck, her long hair unfurling as the man inhaled sharply. Princess Lucienne pressed the pin further into his skin, a bead of blood forming at the tip. The marshal and Head Priest looked at her in shock.
“We are at war. We have no time for weakness, and there will be no mercy for those who stand in the way,” she said as the Maivan army stood silent even in the face of their leader being threatened in front of them. “Maiv has joined the Fallen—a fitting name, I would say, given the situation we face. Together, we shall fight back the Jannatin dogs with everything we can. We shall free our brother and sisters who hold Bastion, and our unity will bring us victory in the end.”
At that moment, a loud cry came from above and the sky turned fiery red. A massive red and black Phoenix dived through the clouds, spreading her wings wide before gliding above the two armies and the city of Golan. A wave of roiling fire trailed behind her. The temperature rose sharply as everyone crouched low and covered their heads. All except one person.
“Adara is with us!” the Head Priest called, holding his scepter high in the air.
At first, nothing happened… but then, slowly, a flutter of something spread across the army. The assembled peasants began to make noise that soon turned into a roar.
Lucienne stood. “Can I depend on you as my father and uncle did?” she asked the marshal, who looked up in utter shock.
“I will do as commanded,” Marshal Lint replied after a short pause, his head bowed.
“Good. Now open the gates. We have much to do and discuss.”
The marshal rubbed at his neck, wiping away the blood Lucienne’s pin had inflicted before turning and marching back to his army.
“Will he follow you?” Celia asked the princess.
Lucienne looked at her, then back at the gates. “He might have his doubts about me, but I find it difficult to believe that anyone in Maiv would question Adara’s judgement.”
“Is she so loved?” Celia asked, surprised by how confident the princess was.
“More like worshipped,” the princess replied.
The gates opened once more, and the army parted, leaving a clear path into the city.
“Champion Celia,” Lucienne said as she wiped the bloodied tip of her hairpin clean and rearranged her hair. “I welcome you and the Fallen to Golan. The city might not be equipped to house some of the races you bring with you, but please do make yourself at home. I will take you to the port as soon as you are ready.”
“That marshal will be trouble,” Celia insisted.
“I will keep an eye on him. If he steps out of line, then I will do what is required.”
“That is not your decision,” Celia replied as she turned to watch Astrel and Trikk lead the Fallen army toward them. “The marshal and this army are to be placed under the command of Kavali, the Head Commander of the Fallen. As per the agreement, your autonomous region is only to muster garrisons and a policing force.”
The princess frowned, but before she could complain, Celia spoke again.
“Golan is also to be placed under martial law as per the orders from Kavali and my Master. The Grauda are tasked with patrolling the streets, and a curfew will be implemented. Queen Trikk and the Dryads will search every home, and every person will be spoken to.”
“What?” Lucienne said, her eyes wide. “You can’t do this! That Arachne Queen is more likely to kill them than speak to them! All she does is talk about the upcoming feast.”
“We can and we will,” Celia said as the Fallen army marched into the city, through the path the Maivan army had stepped aside to form. “Queen Trikk will do no harm to the people of Maiv—she will not do anything that might anger my Master. The enhanced senses she has gained from becoming her race’s queen will help root out those who hide among your population.”
Fearful gasps and cries sounded from the human army. Both Celia and Lucienne turned to watch the Arachne—both those with Grauda atop them and without—climb the stone walls of Golan with ease. The archers there scrambled away as the giant spiders pulled themselves onto the ramparts. Celia had not known they would be able to climb walls as easily as they climbed trees, but such an ability was going to be useful in the war, she decided.
The princess turned back to Celia, her frown deepening. “This is outrageous; we did not give up our faction to be ruled by a dictator.”
“It’s a good thing you aren’t, then,” Celia replied smartly. “Golan is full of spies and Black Coats, is it not? Isn’t that the reason your faction was brought to its knees when the war first broke out? The reason you had to flee your capital in the first place?”
“I will take care of that!” the princess protested.
“There is no time. In the short term, the Fallen will take over this task and cleanse the city. Your task is to ensure no one does anything rash—such as protest or try to rally against us.” Celia shook her head. “Even if this action appears harsh, we are here to help you, Princess. If we are to succeed, then we must have a place to operate from. A place where we can walk the streets openly without fear of a crossbow bolt finding its way into our hearts.”
The princess bit her inner cheek. “Fine…” she finally forced out.
“Then I am ready now. Once the port is secured, I well send a runner back to Soul’s Rest with the news, and Tijar will begin delivering and unloading the equipment and food we’ve purchased. It will also hasten the start of the infrastructure projects we contracted them to build in the southeast of the Wilds.”
The princess had her gaze trained on the ground before her, her hands balled into fists. “I understand. Follow me.”
Celia half-smiled at the princess as she walked beside her into Golan. “Don’t be so upset.
I assure you, things will work out in the end.”
* * *
The Fallen marched into the city and down the main road connecting the temple to the partially-burned castle. Although it had been some time since the city was attacked from within, the damage was still there for all to see. With the faction’s leadership effectively wiped out in a single day, Celia could only imagine the chaos which had ensued. Other than the temple, the city had been left without anyone to guide it.
Now, however, the main road of the city was deserted. They saw not a single person, but Celia could feel the numerous eyes on them through slightly opened doors and shutters.
Lucienne continued to guide Celia and a single division of Grauda through the city as the rest of the Fallen’s army proceeded directly to the castle, where they intended to set up an operational base. Celia noted that the princess was taking a long route to their destination, one that cut through parks and much less densely populated areas. Celia didn’t mind; it was one thing to open the gates, and another to expect a warm welcome. The people here would need time to accept the Fallen as their new leaders—or, at the very least, the leaders of their leaders. The search and curfew were not going to help, but the food deliveries from Tijar and the security they provided might.
“Here we are,” Lucienne announced as they halted in front of a natural harbor, a single pier stretching out into the calm waters.
“It’s somewhat small,” Celia remarked. That was an understatement; while the harbor itself was wide, there was no way this port could accept larger ships. The pier could barely support the few fishing vessels already anchored here, and the warehouses looked like they had been abandoned for years.
“There wasn’t any reason to build a larger one,” the princess said with a frown. “Trade through these waters has been non-existent since the very start.”
“I understand, but this is not going to work for the large galleons Tijar needs to dock here. Without cranes and a prepared space…” Celia shook her head, looking from one end of the port to the other. “It will need to be expanded to at least three times its current size, and fast, if it is to service even a single galleon effectively. Once that is done, we can see how to expand it further.” She turned to the female Grauda division leader waiting a respectful step behind her. “Call your queen; we need her help.”
The Grauda female clicked her mandibles, and five Grauda males sprinted away in the direction of the castle.
“I didn’t know you were knowledgeable about ships,” Lucienne said.
Celia laughed. “Knowledgeable? No. But anyone can tell this port just won’t do.”
Lucienne took a step closer to the waterline. “Do you think Lord Aziel will visit Golan?”
“I don’t know. Why do you ask?”
The princess remained silent for a few moments before turning to face Celia. “Just an idle thought, forget I asked.”
Celia shrugged. “I would be surprised if he did not visit soon. Once things are settled, that is.”
The princess nodded before lifting her head to look at something behind Celia. Following her gaze, Celia watched as the Head Priest and four of his guards approached.
“Princess,” the Head Priest said, then bowed, his guards following suit. “There is something we need to inform you of. The barrier crystal is… well, it is drained.”
“Drained?” The princess stared at him in disbelief. “How did that happen? The city wasn’t attacked after I left, was it?”
“No, of course not,” the Head Priest replied, before clasping his hands in front of him. “Marshal Lint ordered the barrier be kept raised as long as possible. The Capital Crystal is re-charging it as we speak, but it will take a while to return to sufficient strength to be activated again. Perhaps with Adara’s help…”
“That imbecile,” the princess growled. She stormed forward a few steps before stopping and turning to face Celia. “Lady Celia, please excuse me. I need to get my house in order.”
“Do as you wish,” Celia replied, amused, before ordering the female Grauda to send a messenger to Soul’s Rest. There was a lot of work to do here—work they needed done quickly. As someone born in the Jannatin Empire, Celia knew the reputation of their armies, particularly their ruthlessness and effectiveness. The Fallen may have the advantage of diverse races, each bringing their own set of abilities, but the Jannatins had the advantage of time: time to hone their tactics and skills; time to come up with ways to multiply their forces’ strength. And of course, as the faction to take the biggest slice of what had been the Caelian Empire’s core regions, they had access to and had salvaged most of their advanced Magitech devices.
Celia did not know what would happen next. One thing was certain, however: she was not looking forward to what the Jannatin Empire, the heavenly nation, might do. Their activities had almost killed her once before in Fes, and that had been meant only as a warning. She could only imagine what they would try now.
Chapter 33
Aziel scanned his faction log attentively. With the map updated, he could now see the level of control the Fallen had over his newly claimed provinces. Of the three, only the Three Flames, Adara’s home, was fully within his control. The Golan Flats—which included the city of Golan—was highlighted in orange, while the Ranvine Delta, where Bastion was under siege, was red and pulsing angrily.
“This is what the soldiers’ armor was made of,” Neruul said from behind him.
“Whose soldiers?” Aziel asked as the faction log faded away.
“The Seed’s,” the old Ogre’i clarified as he examined one of the stacks of aranite. “Those lifeless husks. I am against selling this metal, Young Master. It is too valuable.”
After discussions with Melody, it had been decided to sell a higher quantity of ingots to fund the growth of the faction and jumpstart the economy—a much higher quantity. Especially now that they were technically at war.
“I have been assured the price we are selling them at is fair,” Aziel replied.
“It is!” Melody called from somewhere deeper within the stores.
“I do not doubt that,” Neruul replied before picking up an ingot and pressing its edge against another. “But that is not what I meant. During the war, your mother was able to muster massive armies—armies full of powerful beings. She would outnumber the Seed’s Overseers and their forces by hundreds to one, at times. And yet she would be defeated.”
“But my mother won in the end,” Aziel pointed out.
“She did. But the price was high. It was a strategy of attrition she implemented, as only those with the ability to weave powerful magic or who the Nexus had bestowed its power upon were able to pierce the protection this metal provided. And only a few, including your mother, had that luxury.”
“What are you saying? That my mother raised her armies knowing they were simply there to die?”
“They were there to provide time. To distract the Seed with their lives.” Neruul gave a long sigh. “With this metal, you do not have to undergo the same sacrifice.” He showed Aziel the bar he had pressed the edge against. There was a small indent there. “You should make weapons out of these, not exchange them for gold.”
Aziel took the bar and examined the indentation. It was slight… but even so. Aziel had been forced to use an empowered Shape Metal spell to form the bars, since melting them or cutting them had proved impossible. He never thought of using aranite against itself.
“These should do for now,” Melody announced as she moved past them carrying a packed box. She was followed by a series of Grauda males holding the same.
Aziel placed the marked bar back atop the stack. “Thank you for bringing this to my attention, Neruul. But for the present, our enemy is not the Seed. These bars are more useful to the Fallen for the money they can bring, rather than as weapons. And shaping them into weapons would be too difficult—I had difficulty forming them into simple bars.” Of course, he had experienced more limits on his mana use at that time, so perha
ps it was not impossible. “I will keep some as a contingency, but we should focus on the Jannatin threat at present.”
The Jannatins had been very quiet in responding to recent developments. Other than an increase of Cloud Hawk sightings in and around Fes, there had been no deviation from the path they had already committed to. Bastion was still their main target. While this was a good thing, giving his faction time to prepare, their lack of movement against the Fallen was making Aziel uneasy.
“Young Master,” Neruul called as he was about to leave the storeroom. “If you would allow it, I would like to begin your ritual training, starting with forming a barrier around Soul’s Rest and the city.”
“Barrier?” Aziel asked.
“Yes. If we are going to go against the Seed in the future, a barrier is required.”
Aziel sighed. “Once again, we are fighting the Jannatins at this time, not the Seed.”
Neruul smiled and leaned on his staff. “If the Seed strikes and a barrier is not already in place, it will already be too late. It is best to be prepared. It was a previous Sovereign who created the ritual for a vast bubble-like shield around settlements. It was designed to protect against the powerful weapons the Seed can deploy from above. It appears the tradition has continued ever since for larger settlements.”
“I see,” Aziel said as he thought this through. A barrier would likely need a crystal. The thought of crystals reminded him that the Dryads had already begun following Vhal’s instructions; they were using an ink based on Wervin blood to place a Fortify enchantment on the earth crystals he had converted to strengthen Soul’s Rest. As a result of the constant need to convert his pure soul crystals into other forms of mana, his place of power was slowly being depleted. “How large a crystal?” he asked.
“A Capital Crystal.”
“What?” Aziel said, aghast.
“We should utilize one of the Capital Crystals and ritualize it to take the form of a barrier crystal instead,” Neruul repeated. “The amount of mana would allow for a powerful and flexible barrier to protect against even the strongest of attacks. It will be large enough to encompass the mountain and a much larger city in future. Soul mana is an effective mana for use in barriers, comparable to light.”
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