Chapter 30

The emissary from the Church

It has already been four weeks since the war started, the dig should be over by now, but there is still no news. On the southern front though, the situation has been quite favorable to us. Between the clergymen, prisoners of war, and civilians running away from the conflict, the knights have gotten a clear picture of the current situation and recent events.

Amusingly, while there have been some rare anti-war protests in the north and north-western provinces where the presence of the church is virtually non-existent, they did not last for long. As soon as the truth of the event reached them, the cries for peace changed into pure outrage.

We knew the kingdom had spent a long time preparing for this war, but not how and for how long. It goes decades back, and includes among other things, proselytism, the stocking of underpriced preserved food through fake merchants, soldiers working as bandits inside the territory to get the lay of the land, gauging the knights’ response time with small uprising and acts of banditry and finally hiding weapons caches for the rebels in preparation for the uprising.

With all these years of planning, you would expect at least a decent implementation in the final stage, but no, it was rushed down, starting a good four or five months early. Add to that a mess of conflicting order coming from the various church’s factions and you get why the rebels in the northern and eastern confines often failed to set the roadblocks or contain the population. You will not hear a complaint on our side though, as the Queen put it: their failures are our successes.

On a side note, the knights were not the only ones putting down the revolution. Counter-revolutions happened in all manner of small cities and villages, anywhere where they were not the majority or insufficiently prepared and… well, let us say that the years of pent-up resentment were liberated all at once in debaucheries of violence. Revolting but honestly well-deserved.

As of now, apart from the major cities and fortresses in the south, all resistance has been crushed, and the war is now in stalemate as the knight order circles the cities and fortresses, in preparation for the upcoming sieges. That is what I thought, but a conversation I am hearing tells a different story and I am starting to wonder if the Knight-general did not let some of this happen just to give himself a good excuse to raze said cities.

“I say we maintain the sieges until they starve to death, and once they’re weak enough, we burn those places to the ground and whoever is still inside… same for any bastard who dares protest.” Declares the Knight-general full of rancor.

“I understand your feelings general, most of us vividly remember the last war, but genocide is a dangerous idea and a worse precedent to set. No matter how justified our actions, once we plant this seed, it will develop into fear and distrusts towards the Queen. Do you really want every little nonconformist to start thinking they’re next? Because I assure you that’s what will happen!” Speaks the commander of the Royal Guard in return.

“We can’t kill her majesty subjects general, and shouldn’t we at least listen to their envoy before taking our decision?” I think this small Korok one is an intendant or something like that. I distinctly remember the people wearing this livery as having something to do with the allocation of resources.

“For the first part, they aren’t her subject, they aren’t even rebels, they’re the kingdom’s soldiers… and there’s nothing wrong with killing the enemy.” Counters the general. “As for the second part, I can already tell of their demands: ‘Freedom for all human’ – that’s rich coming from a bunch of retarded slavers – and getting their lands back. I don’t think they’d been this insistent if it was the same bloody barren desert as two hundred years ago.’

An elf – I think she is the minister of water and agriculture – interjects with a chuckle. “Why not give it back? Our work is far from being finished, and it will revert to its previous states in forty to fifty years top. I for one, certainly would not mind cutting the expenses and the less than savory travels to this moron infested dump.”

Being subjected to the hard gaze of his college, the minister immediately retracts her earlier statement. “I was joking obviously. I’d never dare to suggest ceding her majesty territory under any circumstances.” She continues, almost as bitter as the general. “But I agree with the royal guard commander: we shouldn’t dirty our own hand with genocide… not when the empire would be more than happy to do it themselves.”

“Our opinion is to wait for the envoy,” says the queen softly, “the situation is already in our favor and waiting will only reinforce our position. Their demands are of little import: the kingdom doesn’t keep its promise with monsters and heretics.”

A small Korok I do not know intervenes. “But what of the people stuck inside the besieged cities? Not all of them are enemies, we cannot punish them for the crimes of others!”

“We had been expecting war for a long time and had most of the personnel removed the instant the protests began. I am sorry for whatever few are left behind, but I will not risk thousands of knights for the sake of a few hundreds of uncertain allegiance.” She pauses gravely, then adds. “Do not fear for your flock my kind sir, mixity does not exist in the south, it was only ever a reality in some pioneering villages and they have already been liberated… quite often by the people themselves.”

This gentle looking male is the head of the goddess church? Even though I am considered a god myself, I never took enough interest in them to recognize their members.

“All in favor of waiting say ‘Aye’.”

I am quite surprised to see her put the motion to vote since she usually has the last word… although considering they all agreed with her; I suppose she still did.

I would prefer if the war ended soon but... even if it does not, I still need a place to test my dragon-slaying enchant and as I remember a demonstration of force proved quite effective with the empire.

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Another two more weeks have gone by and without a peep from the excavation team. At least, the emissary from the kingdom has arrived, and that means things will move again soon.

Thankfully, there are no need ceremonies: we are at war and both sides have all the reasons in the world to hate each other – although ours make sense, unlike theirs – so there is no reason to even try looking nice.

His demands are textually those predicted by the Knight-general and despite being on the losing side the lunatic showers us with demands. It would honestly be hilarious if it were not the man himself was not so insufferable… not only of me, for the collective too.

I, for one, am in no hurry to be in his presence again, I do not know which of the two is the worst: the collective’s banter or the man, but even the head of the Goddess’ faith – the gentlest soul I ever met – looks like he wants to strangle the man, and this fact speaks for itself.

Sadly, this choice is not mine to make, the Queen herself asked for my presence at the final conference, so here I am.

As soon as the cleric enters, the Collective’s chatter grows in intensity, and it seems unusually personal and focused.

“LIAR! TORTURER!”

“KILL HIM! KILL THEM ALL!”

“WE WILL RIP YOUR SOUL APART TORTURER!”

“HELP US PASS AWAY!”

“THERE IS NO GOD, NO PARADISE: ONLY ETERNAL DARKNESS!”

“PRAISE THE LORD, BROTHER! LET THERE BE NO REPOSE UNTIL WE’VE CLEANSED THE WORLD OF THE DEVIL’S SPAWN!”

I do know how or why, but every member of their faith I met managed to be even less popular than the empire’s diplomat - a man whose entire lineage comprises only of the most treacherous blackguards.

I do not understand why they call him a torturer, but burning madness in the man’s eyes takes me aback. The small clergyman always has a disgusted look on his face, and whenever he looks at any of us, he seethes with pure hatred.

Why send someone like him to negotiate? Can you even call that negotiation when interacting with us is already more than he can bear?

“Her Divine Majesty the Queen will allow you to expose your request.” Announces the prime minister.

“There is only one god, monster, and this is no request: you will comply or suffer the consequences! Free our people, leave our territory and cease this masquerade! Prostrate yourself and plead the One True God for mercy, in his benignity he might even allow your pitiful races to serve under him and us, the rightful heir of the world.”

I am not an emotional person but each and every one of his words grate on my ears: he is insolence and madness packed into one neat punchable bag of fat and bigotry.

“Not you, witch,” Continues the madman. “your reign of imposture has reached its end! Sadly, despite your crimes against God and against all common sense,” He spits those last words with disgust. "the council will allow you a clean death.”

I had in mind to use his country as a testing ground for our dragon-slaying spell, hoping to emulate what happened with the empire, but now I feel like liberating the whole country from the shackles of life. It seems the Collective is already full of their brethren and all the best if it can make true on its menaces.

His rancor is made even more manifest by his next words. “That is far more than you deserve putrid wench! Surrender and at those monsters you call your subjects may still serve under us or fight and all of you will face annihilation as God intended.”

“Putrid wench?! HOW DARE YOU!”

I throw his entourage up to the ceiling with gravity them back to the ground with five times the force. You all came here to die, right? Then let me grant your wish.

This one though… I walk slowly toward the clergyman, to give him the time to digest what happened. Around him, his escort suffocates under the effect of my spell.

“You finally show your true self, abomination!” Exults the fat bag of madness. “I came here knowing my fate, I fear you not, God is with me: do your worst, monster!”

If he is asking for it, I will oblige… I remove my helmet and weigh myself with gravity to raise the heavyweight clergyman – as small as he is, his mass is probably not that different from my own, armor included – to eye level.

“Fear me not, you say? Then why are you quivering?”

He screams. “God will strike you down!” And attempt to cast a spell.

It hurts to see such incompetence: this is a prayer – a bad one at that – not a spell! Counter-spelling is something that exists, but is very rarely done: it’s almost impossible to pull off, even in the best circumstances. In this case, though, the badly written spell combined with his overall incompetent casting makes it easy for me.

While I take control of the unstable mana, ask. “I thought your god was the one supposed to punish me. Why are you the one casting a spell?”

He finally finishes his chant but nothing happens.

“Next time, try a real spell instead of a half-assed prayer, it will be more efficient than waiting until whatever imaginary entity your deranged mind came up with to answer your call.”

My barb worked because his next spell is a proper one, but it is too little too late, by now even his own mana is under my control, which is something I did not think possible until now.

“There are many, so many people are waiting for you on the other side, torturer…”

Those words struck a chord because he quivers and cries. “Lies! I won’t succumb to your lies, demon! I am God’s faithful servant!”

I ignore him. “Where is the paradise you promised them, liar? Where is your god? Should I deliver your rotten soul to their ghostly hand so you can answer their question yourselves?”

All he can do now is mumble some incoherent words.

“What did you do? How did you garner so much hatred from your own brethren, torturer?”

All this while, he has averted his eyes, but upon hearing my question he jerks and accidentally looks into my sockets. His meager resistance stops as he stares transfixed deep into my nonexistent eyes then suddenly he quakes, shivers and ultimately faints with a painful scream.

What did he see? Even I cannot tell, but deprived of the target of my wrath, I quickly revert to my usual self. A quick check of his entourage shows some broken bones and damaged organs. I stop my spell but that is it, whether they live or die is their own problem.

As I drop the fool on the floor, I finally register the extent of what I did and the irrationality of my behavior. The foul man and his followers were clearly posturing, and I just destroyed any chance of negotiation we may have had. Wary, I look at the Queen, but find her… beaming with delight? At least that is the feeling I have - her face is as expressionless as ever.

Thankfully, the emissary is not dead…yet. I awaken him forcibly and ask again. “I am still waiting for my smiting fool, tell your god to hurry as I do not have all day.”

My anger has receded, I still hate him, but do not feel like listening to the voices’ nauseating suggestions anymore. He, on the other hand, is terrified by what awaits him on the other side, and this is something we can exploit to our advantage. “Nothing? Any last words? No, then I suppose it is high time I deliver you to your past victims.”

“Wait, wait, don’t kill me! I know everything about the council! About the war! About our troops! I’ll tell you everything, please don’t kill me!”

So he says, but all I hear are his teeth chattering!

The Queen speaks gently. "Put your helmet back, dear.” Then order harshly. “Take him away, let us see if what he knows is worth prolonging his pathetic life.”

As soon as the little man is taken out of the room, the Prime Minister brings two of his fingers close to each other. “I was about this far from strangling the man myself.” and a chorus of approval echoes.

Was I but the first to lose self-control?

“Do not fret, dear: they came here to die. We suspect they intended to break all possibilities of peaceful resolution with their deaths… leave him be, our men will soon get the truth out of him.”

She walks to me and speaks softly to me, her head slightly tilted. “Thank you, dear, for getting angry for my sake. It made me so very happy.”