“Listen to me, my Lords, my Ladies, Commanders.” Asher’s eyes carefully scanned each councilor at the table. “We are at war, so let’s discard our usual customs of court. No more tact, and no more tip-toeing. I need full honesty from each one of you to ensure that I can make the most informed decisions. Even if the truth is horrible or will likely offend me, I need you to tell me—there is nothing kind about kind lies. Do you all understand?”
“Yes, your Majesty,” the councilors proclaimed in unison. Collinsworth moved the remaining Headland ships over to the harbor by Kaiyotan, removing and setting aside the Emberland ships.
“Good.” Asher clasped his hands behind his back, beginning to pace methodically around the seated councilors, all while glaring down at the map to study the pieces.
The bulk of the statuettes were placed around the disputed Rockland-Midland border, with thrice as many Headland assets as Rockland assets surrounding Robinsport. Every Emberland statue was focused where the army currently stood between Ashguard and the Black Hills, and small collections of statuettes were placed sparsely along their respective borders with the Emberlands.
“Our entire army could march over the Midlands or Headlands and meet pathetic resistance, if we were to dedicate our host to either enemy,” said Lord Tandon.
“We should lay siege to the Furakuhold!” Lady Wilkinson boasted.
“Howell’s armies are exhausted from war. They will be the easiest conquest!” Lord Eckman contributed. He appeared to snivel with his rat-like face.
The lords, ladies, and commanders all began to bicker amongst themselves. The Ladies Stafford and Collingsworth argued against Lord Tandon, Lord Eckman, and General Loomis while the others split off into their own individual arguments that Asher could not hear. The only people not speaking were Asher and Lord Fiskman. Fiskman simply studied his colleagues with gritty amusement. Before Asher was about to shout at his councilors to quiet down, Fiskman simply raised his right hand, and everyone fell silent.
“A choice being easy does not make it the right choice,” Lord Fiskman said, and he grinned devilishly. “While we could burn most everything in either the Midlands or Headlands before we encountered an army that could stop us, I propose we proceed cunningly, not brutishly.” He leaned back in his chair and rested his hands against each other with the fingertips touching.
“What do you propose that satisfies the meaning of cunning?” Asher asked the Lord pointedly.
“Yamamoto must pay for his treachery, along with Howell, so we must pay back the debt in full.” Fiskman leaned forward, maintaining his smug grin. “Send detachments of our army, let’s say 3,000 men, into both territories to raid their settlements and pillage the land.”
“You want to invade each empire with 3,000 men?” General Miles asked.
“We shan’t invade anyone just yet, General,” Fiskman chuckled. “We will make both Yamamoto and Howell believe that’s the case, however. Once we have their attention and they deploy their forces, our valiant raiders will initiate a retreat and lure the enemies into the jaws of our larger host, where we may ambush and encircle them. The Headlanders and Midlanders will be cattle, and we the butchers.”
“It’s a good strategy, I’ll admit, but,” Miles crossed his arms, “the only flaw is figuring out how to disguise the whereabouts of our larger host so the enemies pursuing our raiders do not catch on.”
“I think—” Asher began. He paused for a moment as the councilors all quickly shifted their eyes to him. “I think that we could exclusively march at night while minimizing our torch light so as to not be easily spotted by scouts.”
“An intriguing idea, your Majesty,” Fiskman complimented with his trademark grin.
“That is a radical change of structure. And our marching pace will be slowed a fair deal trying to navigate dark ground,” said Miles.
“We already make good time. Shortening the ground that we cover during each marching period is a decent trade for ensuring strategic and tactical advantages,” said Asher.
None of the councilors seemed thrilled, but they could not argue with Asher’s logic, or they dared not do so, at the very least.
“We won’t make the change suddenly,” Asher reassured them. “This will be done gradually, by shifting the marching schedule by an hour each day until the men can settle into the nocturnal habits they will be undertaking.” The councilors appeared pleased by Asher’s reasoning. “We will begin the shift tomorrow. As of now, you are dismissed,” he told them. “Lord Fiskman, stay.”
Fiskman nodded, remaining seated while the others nodded, stood up from the table, and then filed out. General Miles turned back to Asher before he left the tent.
“Shall I send in Damon and Andy, Asher?”
“Tell them to come in once Lord Fiskman leaves,” said Asher.
Miles nodded, glancing at Fiskman with a cautious expression, and Fiskman leaned back in his chair, smirking subtly. Miles walked out of the tent and Fiskman turned to Asher.
“Do you want to speak with me, your Majesty?” Fiskman asked.
There’s something in how he talks… I’ve never heard that tone, Asher thought. This lord seemed to be kissing his ass, but not quite. With perpetually curved lips and hollow eyes, Fiskman’s face was impossible to decipher.
“Your strategy is good. Too good,” said Asher.
“His Majesty is far too kind.”
“No.” Asher leaned on the table, glowering across at Fiskman.
When their eyes met, Fiskman’s smirk grew mockingly blatant. “I must confess, I lie awake many nights, imagining these scenarios. What would be the best path to take? What are the weaknesses and strengths of these choices? My mind tends to wander.”
“War amuses you? Death amuses you?” Asher asked pointedly.
“The thought of destroying our Empire’s enemies amuses me,” said Fiskman.
His responses are appropriate, on paper, but they feel wrong, Asher thought. “Is that what you want? To destroy our Empire’s enemies?”
“Of course.” Fiskman leaned forward, an intriguing look in his eyes. “But that does raise an interesting question. Once our enemies are destroyed, what then? What do we do with the scorched landscapes and the confused commoners who don’t know what flag to bow to?”
Asher furrowed his brow, glaring at Fiskman expectantly. “We make things better. That’s our only choice.”
A malevolent yet comfortingly genuine smile emerged on Fiskman’s face. “To make the world better, you gotta make it worse first.” His strange smile froze. He stood up, maintaining eye contact with Asher as he sauntered away and exited the tent.
A moment later, Damon and Andy walked into the tent, wearing lavish red and gray helms to match their armor.
“You needed us?” Damon asked.
Asher gently shook his head and acknowledged the two men. “I, uh, want to inform you both of the strategy I have established with the help of my councilors.” He went to sit down at the war table then looked up at them. “Sit.”
Damon and Andy complied, sitting at evenly spaced seats around the table. Damon sat up with his hands on his thighs and perfect posture in his back, while Andy crossed his arms and leaned back into his chair.
“So, let me give you a quick overview.” Asher placed his palms on the table. “We are going to adjust to a nightly marching schedule over the next dozen days. We will accustom our men to nighttime conditions. By marching exclusively at night, we’ll confuse enemy scouts of our location and army size. I can think of no other way to disguise an army as large as our own. In the meantime, we will be sending raiding parties of 3,000 men into both the Headlands and the Midlands.”
Damon and Andy contemplated Asher’s words in silence for nearly thirty seconds. Asher studied their expressions, trying to decipher the looks on their faces as they glanced down at the map. Do they support the plan? Are they trying to think of an argument against it? I would love to hear one.
“Are the raiding parties
a way to lure the enemy armies?” Andy asked.
“Yes,” Asher said stiffly.
“What exactly will the raiding parties be doing, exactly?” Damon inquired.
“Raiding. Burning? Anything to send a message and lure out the enemy armies,” said Asher.
Andy continued to contemplate the map while Damon looked at Asher concernedly. “How can you be all right with that? Killing civilians is not something you would do!” Damon protested.
“We are at war, Damon,” Asher muttered. “I certainly don’t want to do things like that, but no one’s ever won a war without being willing to do what’s needed.”
“And you think it’s needed?” Damon asked.
It has to be, right? Asher asked himself. If I want to defeat treacherous lords, I will need to be more treacherous than them, right?
“Your father would never kill civilians,” Damon continued.
Asher looked up at Damon with anger flaring from his eyes but swallowed his response.
Damon looked at Asher remorsefully. “Because he was a good man, Asher.”
“Then why isn’t he alive?” Asher countered.
Damon could not think up any response. He conceded, looking down at the map ponderously.
Andy cleared his throat, attempting to soften the tension. “Where’ll we be while the raiders are doing their jobs?”
Asher looked away from Damon and towards Andy. “We will be with them in the Headlands.”
“With them?” Damon and Andy asked.
“With me leading the raids, I will get to control things directly. Will the men rape and plunder mercilessly if I order them not to?” Asher asked pointedly.
Damon and Andy shook their heads.
Asher looked down at the map, his eye focused on the Headlands—on the Furakuhold. And I will get to head straight there, and relieve Prince Hideki of his head…
CH 27 – Viktor III
Viktor’s mind ran faster than his feet as he tried to comprehend what he had seen: a floating Artifact had enthralled almost every one of his fellow recruits, transforming them into black-eyed statues. I’ve heard stories about those Artifacts, but I never believed them. During the incident, Viktor, Anton, and Alexey had to evacuate from the cave with minimal supplies. They’d sprinted through the Forest without turning back. They had run aimlessly from dawn until dusk until they felt themselves entering another safe zone. Viktor quickly came to a halt, falling to his knees in a dramatic display of exhaustion, lying face-first in the snow.
“C’mon Viktor!” Anton’s exhaustion was apparent in his voice. “I can see a small alcove just a little farther!”
Viktor perked his head up, and surely enough a rocky ridge with a decently sized alcove was almost within his grasp. He struggled, trying to push himself up to his feet, but his body had given up.
“Help me drag him!” Alexey quickly walked over to Viktor’s left arm and grabbed it.
Anton and Alexey lifted Viktor off the ground to pulled him through the snow towards the alcove. Viktor fell limp and his head slumped back into the snow, making him harder to heave.
“Alexey!” Anton’s voice strained even harder than before. “Fire… start….”
Viktor’s hearing escaped him along with his feelings of touch. His state of consciousness began to destabilize, but before too long, his head was now out of the snow, and he was staring at a rocky ceiling, lying on his back and desperately trying to reclaim his breath. Then, there was darkness.
Viktor lost track of time. He felt as if he had died, letting the abyss swallow him, yet he felt alive, lucid even. He could have been trapped in the strange darkness for minutes or decades, for all he knew. He had relived his own life, reliving his memories countless times over, trying to decipher what led him to such a dreadful, dreary, and stark set of circumstances. I’ve only been presented one shitty choice after the other. Kill or be killed, steal or be stolen from…
Viktor recalled the Artifact: never had he seen a light made up of such darkness. What the hell even happened? What did it do to everyone? Why did it spare the four of us? Does it want me alive? He simultaneously could not consciously understand it, but he had some underlying understanding of it.
Amid Viktor’s darkness, a faint orange light began to flicker. The light gained in both warmth and size, slowly but steadily. Just before his eyes, the light combusted, bursting into a potent flame and overtaking the darkness. It revealed his surroundings: Anton and Alexey took in the warmth of the fire with a state of serenity displayed on their faces. They opened their eyes and gazed down at Viktor.
“Make sure he’s in the fire,” said Alexey.
Anton came over and pushed Viktor close to the fire, exposing his numb and clammy extremities to the warm aura. Within seconds, the fire injected life back into Viktor’s body, allowing him to feel once again. His numbness faded and was replaced by unforgiving aches and overwhelming soreness. Despite the discomfort, Viktor was happy to feel again.
“Th—th—thank y—you,” Viktor shivered.
“J—just take it easy,” Anton said, still sounding as exhausted as Viktor. “Take a sip of this.” He held a flagon to Viktor’s mouth, carefully pouring a calm stream of water for him.
Viktor gulped down the water for as long as he could, gasping for air when he was done. “M—more,” he said meekly.
“Wait a l—little. You need to t—take your time,” Alexey explained.
Blank-faced and exasperated, Viktor dropped his head back down. His head rested on a pillow or cushion of some kind. He panted meekly but felt much better than before.
The group sat around the fire for hours in near-absolute silence. They did not care about the dead, nor did they care about their aches and pains, they only cared about the warmth. Warmth meant life anywhere in the Forest, and it was not until Viktor had fully experienced and absorbed the warmth that he decided to speak up.
“Casmir… Fuck, man,” said Viktor.
“We couldn’t save him. It all happened so fast,” said Alexey.
“What did happen?” Anton asked.
Alexey appeared guilty. “I… I don’t…”
“Alexey,” Viktor mustered. His voice remained soft but had regained its fullness. “You wanna tell us about that fucking Artifact right about now?”
Alexey looked down, almost shamefully before he spoke. “The night before it, uh, the night before I went down into the cavern just out of curiosity, I guess. I came upon the chamber, and I felt like I had to go inside.”
You would have died if it weren’t for us, Viktor thought resentfully.
“Get to the part about finding an Artifact,” Viktor said curtly.
“Right…” Alexey gulped. “I went into the chamber and approached the light. When I stuck my hand out it, well, uh, I don’t quite know. It protected itself somehow….”
“Protected itself?” Anton asked.
Alexey reached into his pocket and fumbled for a few moments. Once finished, he drew his hand out, displaying it to the other men: a palm-sized object, black and metallic in both color and luster, in the shape of two pyramids, and nestled in his grip.
“It summoned, I guess you could say, this black casing,” Alexey clarified. “The moment my hand drew close, it just wrapped itself in it.”
“That’s pretty fucking weird, dude,” said Anton.
“That’s not all. You should feel the texture of this thing. It’s hot and cold, I guess. Well, I don’t even know how to explain it.”
Without thinking, Alexey tossed the Artifact at Viktor. As it traveled through the air, Anton’s eyes widened. Viktor panicked, reaching his hands out hurriedly to catch it. “What the fuck are you doing?” As the Artifact settled into his hand, he immediately felt the strange sensation Alexey had just described. Terribly cold and horribly hot, but it’s comfortable? he briefly thought while staring at it, puzzled.
“You saw what that thing did!” Anton pleaded. “Why are you just throwing it?”
Vi
ktor suddenly felt whole: all his aches and pains were gone, and his mind reached total ease. He sat up and looked at the fire.
“Viktor? Are you all right, buddy?” Anton asked concernedly.
“I can’t remember being better,” said Viktor.
“Huh?” Anton continued.
Without replying, Viktor stood up nigh effortlessly and twiddled the Artifact in his fingers. The others stared at him at a loss for words. Viktor looked over to Anton, grinned devilishly, then tossed the Artifact at him. Once he caught it and felt it in his hands, Viktor could tell by his face that he was immediately intrigued by its strange sensation.
“I see what you mean…” Anton said while smirking. He tossed it back to Alexey.
“You feel fucking great all of a sudden, yes?” Viktor asked.
“Yeah…” said Anton, dumbfounded.
Alexey raised his hand, not nearly as amused as the others. They looked at him strangely then sat down.
“I wanna know why this thing affected those men the way it did,” Alexey said, changing the subject.
“Oh. That.” Anton resigned.
“Now I can’t explain it, but I feel, well, connected to it somehow. I don’t even know how,” said Alexey.
Viktor contemplated Alexey’s claim for a moment. The moment I touched that thing, I felt overcome with capability. And now, it feels like a part of me…
“Did it spare us, somehow?” Viktor posited. “Since you claimed it, it answers to you now?”
“No way. That thing has a mind of its own. If anything, you answer to it,” said Anton.
“Wow,” Alexey said, almost fearfully. He looked down, appearing to contemplate Anton’s proposition.
“Let’s not dwell on that now. Let’s just get our night’s sleep, then tomorrow we get out of this frozen shithole. Agreed?” said Viktor.
“Agreed,” Anton and Alexey said together.
Viktor spent the entire night in a warm, deep slumber that went uninterrupted. In the morning, he felt completely refreshed and stronger than ever. He quickly jumped to his feet and took in the immediate environment. The fire was now less than a timid ember, and Anton and Alexey were fast asleep. The ice that encased the trees appeared to cry under the scrutiny of sunlight, weeping large tears of potentially drinkable water. He ran to a weeping tree.
The Darkness of Dawn Page 25
