Chapter 237: The Promised Doom.

Aragan approached her death with resignation, but also with relief. After fighting for so long, her fate and the fate of the world were now out of her hands. It was finished. Everything was over. She could fail no further. Each of her steps felt lighter than the last despite the fear of her imminent demise, and the expectation of a quarrel, or a dagger finding her unprotected heart. She did feel the pulse of black mana hinting at hidden foes not yet able to fully mask themselves. but weirdly, nobody stopped her on the way to the Empress of Harrak. The half-elemental Ascender was sitting on a nightmarish throne with her dragon lounging at her back. A priest was slathering some pink goo on her cheek which ruined the absolute evil impression she was giving. Her new shield waited at her feet.

 

Aragan stopped before the throne. The Great Black Witch waited patiently for her to talk. That was a little annoying.

 

“I know you’re going to kill me,” Aragan began with more confidence than she really had. “I have not come here to beg. I have come to face my end as a warrior. I am Aragan, the One Breath, daughter of Draigo of the Whispering Rocks tribe. Remember it well.”

 

“Actually I was hoping you’d surrender.”

 

Aragan scoffed to trample the deceptive bloom of hope growing in her heart.

 

“You expect me to believe you will let me go?”

 

“Yes. We’re sworn to Neriad. That’s our whole thing.”

 

She sounded bored.

 

“Many rulers swear by gods, but their words and actions are often at odds.”

 

The woman blinked, then frowned. The priest was done with her cheek.

 

“Anything else?” he asked.

 

He turned his crooked nose to Aragan. His smile felt warm and a little mocking too.

 

“Do hurry, young one. There is a queue.”

 

Aragan turned to find a line of leaders slowly making their way to the throne. She was but the first of many. She recognized most of them as the chiefs of minor clans, or knights who had not been trusted and so had been spared a fiery death on the edges of the formation. It looked like more of the Baranese knights had survived the battle than she believed. Those who hadn’t died the previous day, at least.

 

“Yeah so if you could just surrender?”

 

“You would allow it, even if I almost killed your paramour?” Aragan objected although at this stage she was just grasping at threads.

 

The empress rolled her eyes.

 

“Almost killed him? Yeah, right. If I killed everyone who believed they ‘almost killed’ Sidjin I’d have to depopulate Glastia. Nah. Look, I’m not killing people who surrender unless they committed vile actions against civilians. I don’t think it was the case for you?”

 

“Of course not! On my soul I so swear.”

 

“So if you could just , you know, do it…”

 

“If this is some sort of ploy to—”

 

“OH MY FUCKING NERIAD WILL YOU GET ON WITH IT THERE IS A LINE AND I AM TIRED AND IN PAIN. OKAY? FUCK!”

 

“I… I surrender.”

 

“Keep your bow, find your tent, and stay put. You’ll get your chance to leave soon.”

 

This is the part where you salute and leave.

 

A puff of ghostly heat convinced Aragan that she was, in fact, going to live and also that she was actively sabotaging that chance by talking.

 

“Alright. Thanks.”

 

As she left, the two began bickering.

 

You remember you can just use your intimidation on them, yes?

 

“I can’t just scare people away every time I’m annoyed with a conversation.”

 

Yes?

 

You absolutely can?

 

“My social skills would go rusty.”

 

Are my social skills rusty?

 

“Avarice, are you on my side?”

***

 

One would think that destroying the fighting forces of two combined continents in one fell swoop would be the hardest part of the campaign but nooooo. Now Viv had a third of Harrak’s total population as prisoners of war milling uselessly on her arable land. The only good news was that they had enough food for the starving masses, and people who had been hungry and stressed for weeks suddenly receiving three meals a day while it was cold outside had a tendency to just hunker down and sleep it off. That made everyone pliable.

 

Despite that, she still spent the remainder of the day accepting the surrender of leading men and women who wanted to turn their weapons to the most dangerous enemy as a way to keep their honor. Viv didn’t mind it but it was busy work and she couldn’t stand at all right now. At least, she could count on Bes and Lady Azar to turbo process everyone. By the time the sun fell, Queen Rosea was almost done providing amnesty to her own citizens (against compensation, naturally) while the rest of the Maranorians were assigned spots in a newly made camp. Nevertheless, all the mages who had survived the battle were emptying the last of their mana reserves building improvised housing on the shores of the new Lake Solfis. Viv was pleased that the reservoir would solve some of the nation’s water problems even if she had to compensate those whose lands had been consumed. Work continued throughout the night though she went to bed, and by the next morning, thousands of warriors had already left through the reactivated portal network, either on their way home or towards Frostway where they would catch a ship to Vizim.

 

***

 

The council had to reconvene in the throne room because it was the largest available space. The benches had been cleared in favor of a large table. Viv was greatly pleased to see that most of the leaders on her side had made it. Bes stood by her side, his shadowy presence comforting.

 

“Say,” she whispered to him. “Would you mind staying? I guess Ravinport will be freed now, but —”

 

“Are you asking me if I would return to the position of ambassador of a small city rather than be the right hand of the sovereign of mankind, leading a thousand Imperial-trained civil servants who obey my will with levels of competence and initiative I had never hoped for?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“I want a twenty percent increase in salary. And a house. In the old capital.”

 

Damn him.

 

“It is done. Although the house you’ll have to pick and repair it yourself. And a house, not a palace.”

 

“Agreed.”

 

His voice rose as the last of the guests sat down.

 

“Milords and ladies, welcome to this summit of the Paramese Alliance. Our first priority will be to listen to General Jaratalassi’s report, then we have an urgent message from Bishop Radus. Finally, we can discuss reparations and celebrations.”

 

Her guests didn’t look too pleased. Who was Bishop Radus? Oh yeah, the Bishop of Neriad whom she always referred to as ‘hooked nose guy’. Might want to change that.

 

“So,” Jaratalassi said, standing up. “Our victory is complete. I expect we’ll have to mop up the garrisons they left behind, but otherwise the war is won. My only concern is Helock, because their entire military leadership perished so there is no one left to negotiate a surrender. I suggest we send a diplomatic mission there to accept it as soon as feasible.”

 

“But who will they surrender to?” A temple guard asked. “The alliance doesn’t have a protocol for traitors.”

 

All eyes turned to Viv. She considered her options. Rosea leaned forward, and Viv felt her fear. Genocidal Maniac whispered of it.

 

“I believe it is preferable to address the real issue before we begin. Outlander Viviane, you are now unstoppable, and you have created a weapon of war that is equally unstoppable. No human nation in this world can hope to resist you. If you wish to declare yourself as the undisputed sovereign, then do so. Do not hide behind honeyed words.”

 

Damnit, Viv didn’t need this at ass-o’clock in the morning when she hadn’t recovered from the battle. Rosea was right to spring it on her though. It was a daring but valid move.

 

Now what did Viv stand for? Right.

 

“Look, I’m not going to turn into a tyrant if that’s what you’re worried about. I think we would do better with a political union, but I’m not going to force it.”

 

Also Enoria and Baran had several times Harrak’s total population. There was no way her administration could absorb the sudden population increase. It was only a matter of time before that changed though. Viv’s belief was that between her power and the technological edge Harrak was developing, eventually she would peacefully absorb the other nations into a united whole with autonomous regions and democratically elected representatives. Except for her. She was the boss.

 

“I will not demand that you subject yourself to me,” Viv promised. “Let’s keep the alliance as is for now. We still have a war to win.”

 

Rosea didn’t seem convinced, and Viv couldn’t blame her. One didn’t develop a superweapon unless one intended to use it. The thing was, Viv had developed it specifically for something like Oleander or a massive avatar. Or someone really, really rude. It just wasn’t in the Paramese mindset to accept that someone could be the strongest and not use it to dominate everyone else.

 

“One last thing,” Jaratalassi finished. “The question of the Sheem and of the Shadowlands remains. Their civilian authorities might object to our demand to capitulate. Unfortunately, without an invasion fleet, this is now the domain of diplomacy.”

 

He gave Viv a measuring look.

 

“Or of a demigoddess and her flying engine of doom.”

 

“I’ll look into it later. Param first.”

 

The rest went without saying. If the other nations surrendered to Viv, not the alliance, then she would be taking one more step on the path to complete domination. Viv was confident she could take a few and nothing too bad would happen.

 

Bishop Radus cleared his throat. Quite a few people frowned because there was still much they wanted to discuss.

 

“I’m afraid I bear dire news. In his great wisdom, Neriad has sent me a vision.”

 

Radus’s words had the merit of getting everyone’s attention.

 

“And what does the God of Righteous War say, bishop?” Rosea asked.

 

Viv was getting the feeling she was trying to control the meeting. It was a little cute.

 

“Neriad reports that Oleander is alive. He has been teleported to the holy city of Mornyr at great cost to Maranor herself. He is now being attended by her clergy. The city has activated its divine shield. None may come, or go.”

 

“Shields? How strong are they?” Marruk asked.

 

Viv remembered. She had attended several councils there, and even maybe kind of kidnapped Sangor’s son from the church of Maranor though she’d never admit to it in court.

 

“They’re the manifested will of the light gods. By agreement, they all sacrificed a fragment of their power to create a defense that even they couldn’t control,” the bishop explained.

 

“What?”

 

“Mornyr has never been conquered or even successfully invaded in all of its history. The shield is simply impenetrable, or has been so far. No siege can be laid either because the defenses also include a divine artillery spell,” Viv explained.

 

“I knew about the shield, but…” Rosea objected.

 

“The cannon was only fired once, according to ancient imperial records. Most rulers know better than to defy all the light gods at once.”

 

“Then we need another solution,” Rosea said. “Perhaps envoys—”

 

“No.”

 

Viv stood up.

 

“I’m going. With Solfis. When I used a sealed spell to destroy Oleander’s arm, Enttiku warned me that I should face the consequences. I will not delay our final confrontation. Only one of us may live, therefore there is no point in letting him recover. I will depart as soon as I’m able.”

 

“Milady,” Bes whispered, “the armies…”

 

“Cannot follow. Nor will they be of any use.”

 

“Actually, Your Majesty,” Bishop Radus added, “Oleander intended to make Mornyr his capital, as a symbol. There is a garrison there that might try to stop you.”

 

Viv shrugged. There could be five thousand knights and assorted mages facing her that it wouldn’t make a difference. Nothing they had could stand against Solfis, Avarice, or herself.

 

“What do I care? I can just mix intimidation and a couple of spells and they will scatter.”

 

“That will cost time which the city can use to fire the lance against you, milady. There are also many civilians still trapped inside: priests, healers, diplomats. It would be wise to clear the front of the city so they may escape the coming battle while you dedicate your attention to the shield.”

 

The bishop and Viv exchanged a glance. It felt like the clergyman knew entirely too much about what might happen, and given the fact Neriad was kind of a himbo, she suspected another divinity might have a hand in there. At the back of the room, one of the scented candles briefly puffed purple. Viv frowned.

 

Purple was the color of Maradoc, the God of Secrets and Knowledge.

 

“Alright. But what Vizier Bes said remains true. We can’t move our armies in a reasonable time frame, not to mention we need them to guard the larger group of prisoners while they’re still here. I suggest taking only riders and going through the ghost network.”

This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version.

 

“And I would appreciate you removing that network from the Baranese territory,” Rosea grumbled.

 

Viv rolled her eyes. So ok violating the territorial integrity of an ally was not good but had Rosea complained when Viv was sending food convoys to her starving cities? No. And now that it was all over, hmm? No gratitude.

 

“Alright so I take the riders.”

 

“And the One Hundred. Solfis can accommodate them,” Sahin added.

 

He gave her ‘the look’.

 

“Which you should accept, Your Majesty, because they will otherwise board the fortress of their own accord.”

 

Was there a single person in this entire nation who listened to her willingly?

 

“Fine. Ok.”

 

“Milady!” a messenger yelled, bursting from the door.

 

He wilted under the combined glares of all of Param’s rulers.

 

“That is, High Lady Avarice is arguing with her peers. Captain Mother thought you should know…”

 

If the leader of the Bitter Hearts thought Viv was needed then she ought to really hurry.

 

“I’ll let you guys finish talking about the prisoner handling.”

 

“And the looting rules,” Marruk said with a pointed gaze at her neighbor.

 

“Yes, that. I’ll be off.”

 

Looting rules were very important to the kark. It was also how armies recouped the tremendous spendings they incurred during long military campaigns, so no objections there, but keeping the city in its ‘not currently on fire’ state was even more important. Viv flew out of the palace at full speed, following the twists of angry fate mana. The dragons stood on the path leading down while carts full of wounded waited at a very respectable distance. That wouldn’t do. On the other hand, maybe they could wait five more minutes if it meant preventing a fight.

 

The dragon’s mental voices were almost deafening. Unsurprisingly, Stormrider was at the head of whatever rebellion was happening. She faced Avarice, her snout reddening with latent heat.

 

I will never recognize you as a One Name.

 

You are a twerp.

 

Avarice watched the larger dragon hiss through half-lidded eyes. She then moved into her rival’s personal space, something that Viv would consider ‘unwise’ at the best of times.

 

I do not need your recognition.

 

I AM a one name.

 

Your opinion does not matter.

 

The power of her conviction radiated out, as did the truth of her words. She was a one name.

 

You are too young and too inexperienced.

 

I will not follow you.

 

I will not be scared of a juvenile.

 

Avarice didn’t let up.

 

You should be scared because I am so young and a one name.

 

The youngest one name ever.

 

Stormrider roared. The concerned humans nearby turned into panicked humans.

 

Perhaps I should teach our newest one name a lesson!

 

Avarice slowly stood on her hind legs, doing that T-pose that Viv had always thought ridiculous, especially since she tended to do that to creatures she had no hope of defeating. But that had been over a decade ago. Now the dragon doing that was one of the finest casters alive, capable of teleporting mid-flight and deploying an impressive array of lethal spells designed to kill the kind of opponents even dragons might fear. Her one name proved her mental maturity and the power of her belief. Gone was the amusing spawn. What faced Stormrider was the newest, and only one-named dragon of the magical bloodline. One who had dueled Judgment’s killer to a standstill to protect Viv. The future of dragonkind.

 

You can try.

 

So it wasn’t that funny anymore, and Stormrider, being at the receiving end of the threat, lowered her head. In a surprising act of maturity, Avarice didn’t immediately use that opportunity to insult the opposition.

 

You can feel it as I do.

 

We are being called north and east.

 

More of us will join the battle.

 

You can refuse the call, or you can accept it but fly alone.

 

But if you do come, you would do well to listen to me.

 

My methods led us to victory against the human avatar of the Slayer Goddess.

 

Viv was a little annoyed that the memories of close air support and dogfight doctrines she’d read in the army (during the foolish time she’d considered joining the air force) were now ‘Avarice’s methods’. Whatever.

 

Without loss of life.

 

For the dragons.

 

I have demonstrated my wisdom.

 

Do as you wish. I care not.