Never Victors, Part 1

Ahanu surveyed the battlefield from his command tower. The whole situation still didn’t feel right to him. The Lamians entrenched themselves in Escanaba, a large flat outcropping of hard stone that slanted down into the Aroostook River.

Escanaba was mostly used as a crossing and launch point for small watercraft. The rock meant that the large area couldn’t be cultivated for farming, and the waters of the Aroostook flooded much of the area in the rainy season. The rocky soil eventually gave way to the loose edge of a forest.

Ahanu’s original plan was to have his best Axculi commander, Ajax, run his cavalry through the other end of the forest. They would then be able to attack from the top of Escanaba with the Lamians pinned against the river. It was a good plan when the Lamians were just fortifying along the shore according to Eumenes’s first reports.

For now, he settled on a more cautious plan. He ordered Ajax to hold 2km back from the edge of the Blackened Forest, while he fortified the approach from the Imperial Highway. On one side, Escanaba opened up to large grasslands through a small field between the forest and river. The field was no more than 500m wide at the choke point, which was where Ahanu predicted the Lamians would position themselves.

“Optics,” commanded Ahanu. His aid immediately rolled out a large lens in front of him. The lens was mounted on a large mechanical pedestal, and several knobs jutted out the front controlling the movement of the lens.

“ενόραση” incanted Ahanu. An emerald light spewed out of his mouth and enveloped the lens. The lens immediately took on a green tint. “Ready for dictation.” This was a command, not a question.

“Ready,” replied Amalek, his aid.

“The Escanaba Marina and launch ramps are under complete Lamian control. The Pican, Wasond, and Ampuli were all scuttled while moored. Captain Xera and the remaining stationed officers’ corpses are on mutilated display along the shoreline heading east. The Talix, Fane, and Green Turtle are still under their original commands. All officers have been debriefed. The Talix and Green Turtle were out on scheduled eastern patrols. The Fane was responding upstream to a distress call sent by the commercial barge La Whoa, approximately 30km west.”

Ahanu paused to consider what truly required inclusion in the official report. He blinked hard then blue rays came out of his eyes and collided with the lens. Green and blue lights mixed together before finally settling on an even cyan throughout. Ahanu swiveled the lens to focus on the gate-head.

“Total count of the Liamian forces is uncertain. Definite count of 90 marines, 40 light cavalry, 2 siege engines, and 2 capital class auras. No positive ID’s on capital individuals. Maginnering evident, and the gate-head remains operational. Maximal throughput observed is half a ton per hour, with average usage holding at a twentieth of that. Fortifications have been erected around the trading post, extending past the marina to within 200m of the Blackened Forest. Will commence a conventional assault upon arrival of GPA forces, with a delay of no more than 2 days.”

Ahanu didn’t actually need to wait for Luke to arrive with forces from the Grand Plains Alliance, but he always preferred to attack with overwhelming force. His estimates put his magical forces at several times what the Laminas could muster, but he would prefer to only use light magic if possible. Full on magical warfare tended to result in devastated landscapes and poisoned ecologies for years. The Empire’s standard on “conventional warfare” allowed for substantial magic anyway.

“Issue it in triplicate. Send two flyers to Vindar, and one to Valencia. Oh, and include a note to my son that we should be done in five days.”

“Your will, My Lord,” replied Amalek as he departed to finish his copying.

Ahanu spent the next hour studying the Lamian fortifications and making notes on his plans to assault them. Why did they spread their forces thinner? Why reach to the forest when the assault along the Highway had to be expected? Ahanu hated having questions in the air, especially when the lives of his command where on the line.

Eventually the glow on the lens began to fade. Ahanu stood back and stretched. Where’s my tea? He scanned the back of the room, taking in the piles of parchment on desks and assorted maps. This is a command tower, not a pig farm. I need to get the junior officers out in the field more. He made a mental note to tear into the boys staffing the command center. Most were young nobility of some form or another, and all lacking in actual experience.

That’s the perverse boon of small campaigns. It’s just enough to get their ears wet and then have them back to their mother’s tit. The real command structure consisted of hardened veterans, most well over 100 years old. The junior officers were brought to handle the bureaucratic work, and experience what real conflict looked like. Ahanu would make it a point to ensure they all saw the horror of bloodshed when the time came.

With one last glance around, he sighed, and then slid down the ladder to the ground. Two Axculi spirit warriors saluted him from the base of the ladder and then fell into formation at his sides. The command tower was a marvel of modern magginnering. Five eastern mages, with ten wagons of materials, were able to erect a near impervious command center that stood 10m tall.

Ahanu wasn’t completely aware of the construction process, but he understood more than most. The towers originated in the East, and the Empire had been perfecting their design for the better part of a hundred years. It took more than a year to make the materials for each tower. Every scrap of metal was enchanted to some level, even the screws. The materials were all reusable, which lead to specific teams specializing in the construction and teardown of each tower.

A veteran team could put up a fully functional tower in a little more than a day, and pack it up in two. That was, of course, under ideal and rushed conditions. The ground had to be prepared and reinforced, prefabricated sections assembled, and magical defenses activated.

The West possessed five towers, and Ahanu’s best estimate was that the rest of the Empire only held another ten. It is not as though the command tower guaranteed success, or that they were impervious. Early in their development, an Eastern marquis famously lost one to the Bansard Desert Tribes.

The desert warriors completely overran the Imperial camp but were unable to breach the security of the tower. Instead, they simply killed anyone who tried to come of out it, and the marquis surrendered after a five day siege with no water.

It was for this very reason that Amalek, and all of Ahanu’s personal aids before him, were hydromancers capable of conjuring water. Ahanu also personally tested the water at least once a year. He would first have the aid conjure some water and drink it directly, then make a steward test the water, and finally, he would drink it himself. At some point, when the hydromancers skill level rose too high, the water they conjured would be so pure that it was toxic. At that point, he would promote the aid and look for a new one.

The guards behind him were different. They were blood-sworn from the tribe to protect the “chief” with their lives. The first time Ahanu met them was fifty years ago, and they didn’t look a day older. While it was known that spirit warriors obtained incredibly long lifespans, it was less certain exactly how long they could live. The simple fact is that almost all of them die from some sort of trauma.

“Your Grace,” called Eumenes as Ahanu walked to his tent.

“Eumenes, still eating with the men are you?” Ahanu respected that a general was coming out of the common mess. While it might put the soldiers temporally on edge in one of the few safe places at camp, it also encouraged them to see the commanding officer eating the same grungy food they were.

“I still need their hearts on top of their obedience. Which means I also need their stomachs.”

“Quite true. Join me on to my tent?”

“Of course, Your Grace.” Despite that all societal rules dictated that their relationship be formal, Ahanu and Eumenes held a strong friendship. They endured real campaigns together and truly trusted the other to play the right part.

“I want the Eastern Service to do some digging on a barge called the La Whoa. The owners, investors, crewman, officers, and any hidden backing they may have. Our house will look into the Fane ourselves. Perhaps it’s just a coincidence, but I don’t like the idea that they were called out just to miss all the action.”

“I will mark it as a top priority, Your Grace. We still haven’t been able to ID either of the capital class auras, but we’re now certain they’re human.”

“Well, at least we're not dealing with anything more apocalyptic than regular bloodthirsty humans. Do you think they gated in?”

“No, Your Grace. It would appear that the gate wouldn’t have the energy for that, unless they were proficient in the portational arts themselves. It’s my personal estimate the capital individuals brought over the materials using some sort of storage magic or artifacts. They then unloaded the supplies for the gate-head and troops. Otherwise, I don’t think they would be sending naked men through the portal.”

The first command Eumenes gave was to watch the portal. Rangers monitored the portal, and directly noted what came through. Most of the time, one naked man would come out every three hours or so, but there was at least one instance of seven fully armed men coming out in an hour.

“The portal seems awfully weak for its size. Any word from Ajax on a mana channel?”

“We have word, Your Grace. Neither the scryers nor the rangers were able to detect any polarized mana flows, especially not one big enough for the portal. That gives weight to the idea that they’re coming from their own territory across the river. I took the liberty of sending two squads of shock troops across the river with some maginners. They—“

“Who’s leading them?” Ahanu disliked noncombat personnel being behind enemy lines, especially without his explicit instructions.

“Bradix, Your Grace. He alone should be more than capable of providing protection.” Bradix would easily qualify as a “capital combatant.” Capital combatants are individuals that could single-handedly take on a battalion of trained imperial troops. There wasn’t a set standard for when one actually reached this state, but the Empire kept very good records of individuals displaying anything close to this power. Such individuals almost always exuded a “capital aura” that could be detected by a variety of methods.

There was a continual arms race between those who develop better methods to hide their aura and those that developed techniques to discover them. Ahanu believed that, at the moment, he was far better at detection than they would be at hiding. Then again, they hadn’t detected the attack on Escanaba until it happened.

“Fair enough. What’s their status?”

“They have just finished constructing rudimentary defenses and two attack arcs. It will take at least two more days before they are able to set up mana netting.”

“Keep me updated, and send a group of rangers over there tonight. I want confirmation of the mana channel yesterday. Let me know as soon as there is an update.”

“Your will be done, your Grace. Shall I accompany you inside?” Eumenes asked a prudent question. Not everyone traveled with their family while on campaign, but nobility of sufficient rank were all allowed to. In Ahanu’s case, Alsoomose craved battle against the Lamians so deeply that there was no way he could keep her at home. Rather, it was rude to enter a tent and presume upon a lady.

“Wait on my call,” instructed Ahanu as he entered the tent. Alsoomose sat on the edge of their bed in full combat armor, sharpening her panabas. The weapon was large, even for its style, with a wickedly sharp edge that curved into a spectacular point. The base of the shaft held a glowing red crystalline spike, which could, and had, been used to kill a man. It had not yet awoken as a spirit blade, but Alsoomose had faith that one day it would. Until then she would pour her mana into it at least once a day.

“Hello my love. I—”

“When the hell are you going to let me out of here to bust their heads open?” Alsoomose was never known for her patience.

“Hold that thought dear. Eumenes, enter,” called Ahanu.

Eumenes entered the tent and bowed to the couple, “Your Grace.” Alsoomose grunted, and then holstered the panabas across her back.

“Eumenes and I were just comparing our assessments of the situation. Ajax reports that they aren’t channeling over the woods.”

“Of course they aren’t, nitwit. Look we only need to keep a few alive to interrogate, right? We have what, fourteen capital combatants here not counting your personal guard? Forget waiting on Luke’s slow ass, and let’s break their rebellious faces in.”

“If I may, Your Grace?” Alsoomose looked annoyed but nodded for Eumenes to continue. “Ajax also reports that we have elves watching the situation. We don’t know how many, but when they were scrying for mana channels, at least three individuals were found. And you know how adept they are at hiding.”

“There are a bunch of tree babies watching, so what? They couldn’t care less about a human conflict. The longer we wait, the more resources the Lamians will have, and the bigger this fight is going to be.”

“That is true for us as well my love. We will have far more forces with but a short delay, and there is no way that they will be able to muster at the same rate. And while the elves don’t care about human politics, they will certainly intervene if we start seriously harming the environment.”

“I’ll never understand how someone so crafty can be so boring. Well, what do we actually know about the camp? How many Red Hats do we have with us?” Red Hats were a special branch of spirit warriors who were zoonotically bound to one animal.

“We have ten with us, but only two are birds and three aquatics. They’re all capable of full conversion.” Red Hats often excelled at clandestine reconnaissance. How prepared the enemy was could drastically change that, because they would often retain the aura of a human. If you detected a mouse with the aura of a full grown warrior, you wouldn’t think twice about crushing it.

“I expect a full report in the morning, Your Grace. Rest assured that we will have the full details in time for our strike.”

“Ugh, men. You all think that women want you to take longer and longer, but we’re all just really trying to get you to HURRY THE HELL UP!”

⁂

Far within Lamian lands, there is a deep underground cavern. It is spacious but reeks of death throughout. The only way to access the cavern is through a spiral staircase hewn in jet black rock. The spines of countless victims joined end-to-end to create the only railing that ran its length.

The top of the stairs were concealed behind an altar within a temple. The temple itself was inside a keep, which stood as a stronghold of the Lamians for generations. Presently, a priestess in dull red vestments descended the stairs alone.

Gods, we really must do something about that smell, she thought. She was the chosen of her generation. It was an honor that could fall on either sex and was a requirement to be head of the Order. At the bottom of the stairwell, she sighed and bit open a cut on her index finger.

She then thrust her bleeding finger into an ornate hole in a raised pedestal. She closed her eyes and willed her mana to mix freely with her blood as it dripped out. Lines on the pedestal began to glow a bright green. The light traveled along lines dug into the floor until they all converged on a door blocking her path.

After a few moments, the door flashed red, and a loud grinding sound could be heard as the door opened. The path before her would bother most people more than the stairwell. On either side of the path crouched fifty naked virgin women. Their necks and arms were chained to the floor, and their hips were raised along a rough iron bar. Two tubes went into each of their mouths, and each held a lit red candle, cruelly wedged into their anus.

“Donxious, dear, aren’t you going to come relieve me? Your shift started half an hour ago.”

“Coming,” sighed the priestess as she passed the tortured women. When she had first passed through the cavern the muffled wailing haunted her sleep. Now she was used to it. It was unfortunate, in her eyes, that it needed to be women, but men just couldn’t deliver the sustained life force that the female sacrifices could. Bigger concerns filled her now, and she barely noticed their plight.

“You know it’s not the length of the shift that matters, it’s how much material you get through the portal.” Donxious was not about to let a slight concerning her timeliness slide. She was responsible for every major push of material through the gate-head, and everyone in the Order damn well knew it.

“For the glory of those bound in darkness,” the other priestess chanted in ceremony.

“That those in the dark may come to the light,” replied Donxious with a devious smile.