Chapter 17

The echoes of someone knocking on the door reverberated throughout the study. Sanctullator brushed aside his current work, and corrected his posture.

“Come in.”

The wooden door screeched as it moved backwards. An irate Sanctullator shook his head. Justitia be damned, when are those lazy carpenters going to fix that godawful door? A cloth shoe shuffled onto the marble floor. Gradually, a man with long red hair leaned into the door frame. He bore the uniform of the Wizard Corps, its bright contrast all the more accented by the light from the chandelier.

“And you are?”

“My apologies, General.”

Sanctullator slammed his hands on the desk. “What was that?”

The visitor bit his tongue, and erratically brushed the sleeves of his robe. “Err, my apologies, your excellence. I didn’t mean any-”

“Oh nonono, you’re not brushing this aside like dust off of that poncey robe, you dimwitted mage. I’m not your friend, I am a decorated general of his Majesty’s army and the governor of the Lokahn Territory. Is that understood?”

“Y-yes sir. It is understood.”

I thought they didn’t let idiots into the Academy, gods be damned… Sanctullator groaned, and leaned his bearded chin on a fist. “Right… Who are you, and what in the abyss do you want from me?”

“My name is Roderick, sir. Junior Arcanist of the Imperial Wizard Corps. I came here for the scheduled meeting,” the guest said, fiddling the collar of his robe between his fingers.

“And?”

“I was wondering if we could get it started now, right here. I have the new leader of the Civil Defense with me here,” Roderick said, gesturing to something, out of Sanctullator’s sight.

“We have a dedicated space for that,” Sanctullator said, grabbing a stack of papers off his desk. “You know that, right?”

“Err, no actually.”

Son of a… Why can’t these useless assistants do something right? “At the top of tower four, that’s where I hold my meetings. Not in my private study, please. There’s not enough chairs here, and I don’t want to associate my leisure time with the stress of these damned wars, yes?”

Roderick shrugged. “That’s a shame. I would have loved to have a look around your library.”

Sanctullator scoffed. “I doubt that. There’s no fancy spell slinging books here, and unless you’ll develop a sudden fascination for news, military history and tactics in the near future, you won’t find anything here period.”

“Oh, I see,” Roderick replied belated.

“Now what are we doing here, standing around admiring each other like some low life prostitute in a brothel?” Sanctullator gestured beyond Roderick as he walked towards the door. “Get moving.”

Roderick bit his lip. “Y-yes sir.”

Once in the hallway, a young man with similar brown hair greeted him. Sanctullator cut him off, and ordered him to follow along. He appeared on the verge of tears. Given his long face and sloppy strides, something clearly troubled him. Sanctullator brushed it aside. War pays no heed to the suffering of those caught within its vortex. Like it or not, he had to fight those emotions, lest his side lose the war.

The spiral staircase went on long enough to make the guests pant by the time they reached the top. “It’s only a staircase, you fools. Have you never walked up one in your whole lives?” Sanctullator said. “Gods be damned...”

Taking a moment to catch their breath, the guests surveyed the floor. Barring the stairs, the entire floor was this one room. Covering the floor were thick wooden boards, sturdy enough to carry the weight of thirty people.. Seated in the center was a large circular table, which bore a map of the Lokahn Territory, some pencils next to the map, an inkwell complete with quill and the papers Sanctullator threw down moments earlier. The walls bore a dozen windows, granting a view of Ravens Hill and the surrounding area. Roderick peeked out one. They were up high, far higher than he had expected seeing the building from outside.

“Are you two done staring out the windows yet? I’d like to get this done and over with.”

“Oh, well, yes sir.” Roderick stumbled over his words and the floorboards towards the table. Sanctullator appeared tepidly unimpressed as usual, and rolled his eyes as the wizard seated himself on the opposite end, his companion taking a seat next to him. Then it was silent. Sanctullator tapped his fingers on the table, his gaze unfocused yet unsettling. “Aren’t we meant to begin now, your excellence?”

Sanctullator dragged his forearm over the table. “Why yes, normally we would have begun right now. If everyone was here, that is. But no, because expecting that wildcannon of a captain and that crusty old baroness to show up in time is a level of foolishness not seen ever since ol’ Rotyn was let off the hook.” His gaze dawdled off towards a window, and resumed tapping his fingers.

“Well… what do we do now, then?” Roderick asked.

“Let’s talk for a moment, shall we? You there with the brown hair, the new head of the Ravens Hill Civil Defense, right?”

The man nodded. His eyes shifted back and forth. “Yes, that is me. My name is Eric, by the way. I uh, I lead the Civil Defense, yes.”

“Eric… I see. How has the Civil Defense been? Enjoying it so far?” Sanctullator cracked a faint smile. It wasn’t a genuine smile, but a front. What’s the matter with this kid? He looks like he wants to curl up on the floor.

“Why yes, It’s all been good so far. Business as usual, generally. Nothing too special, really,” Eric said.

“Well then, Eric. I want you to be one hundred percent honest with me. Is something wrong?”

Eric was caught off guard; his eyes widened, and a chill visibly shook his body. “N-no, there’s nothing, I… What makes you say that?”

Sanctullator shifted himself upright. “From the moment you sank down in that rickety old scrap heap the carpenters call a chair, you looked under the weather. It’s like you’re dragging boulders on your back. So again, is something the matter? Do you still carry grief over that horrible attack you and your men went through a few days ago?”

“No, it’s not that. It’s something else, and I don’t want you to think I’m weak or in over my head or anything-” He covered up his mouth upon realising his error.

Well, in that case… “Cut the crap. Either you tell me what’s wrong, or you’re a coward.” Sanctullator wagged his finger. “What kind of man is afraid of his own emotions? A weak man, that’s who. So, let’s hear it. What’s gotten under your skin?”

“My best friend is dead, and it’s my fault.” Eric covered his face up, and tears fell down onto the table soon after.

“Really? What makes you say that? Did you drive a sword through his gut by accident?” Sanctullator folded his arms and leaned backwards in his chair. Eric didn’t respond.

“If it’s okay, I’ll answer for him. He’s been rather scarred by the experience, you see,” Roderick said.

Sanctullator shrugged, and rested his feet against a leg of the table. “As long as you tell me the whole truth, go ahead.”

Roderick sighed. “Long story short, we had to boot out his best friend when we came back. That’s what Johnathan asked me to do, and you know the importance of honoring the dead,” he said. Sanctullator gestured for him to continue. “Well, this friend decided to head back home to his home in Riverside. You know what happened there, right?”

“I do. That little hamlet got raided by Draconists three days back. Said so in the report. There weren’t any survivors.” Sanctullator shook his head.

Outside, the clouds covering up the sun drifted onwards; the bright rays of the sun took the room in their grasp. “It’s far more insidious than that, your excellence. Both his and his friend’s families lived there, and they perished. The lone surviving residents of Riverside are those who weren’t in the village when the Draconists came. We’re estimating their number to be eight. But that isn’t the worst of it, I’m afraid.”

“Not the worst? Pfft.” A droplet of spit flew out of Sanctullator’s mouth. “The whole village’s been wiped off the face of the earth, how does it get worse?”

“Okay, you likely don’t know about this, since it was discovered just yesterday. We found the bodies of the cultists who commited the gruesome act, or what was left of them anyway, a few hours westward from the village. They had been mauled to pieces, you could barely even tell them apart as human beings. The injuries are consistent with those brought on by dragons, your excellency. Apparently, the army investigators believe one of them was even eaten alive-”

“HA!” Sanctullator roared into laughter. He bashed the desk with his fist, tears sputtering from his eyes. He cackled and cackled, every time he tried to speak he’d wheeze up another bout of laughter. Eric’s cheeks reddened. The man he was meant to respect laughed off his friends death as if it were a jester act. “Jus, Justitia, please tell me this is a joke. You can’t actually be telling me they’re, Ohohohoh!”

Roderick hissed a breath between his teeth. “It is the truth, your excellence. Please, this is no laughing matter-”

“Whaddya mean, no laughing matter? This is too good to be true! Think about what these dimwitted beasts have given us. Now we show the world that yes, the monsters won’t stop at the armed; they’ll go after the innocent, and after their own followers as well. Feast on raw sewage, you blasted cultists! Your heroes won’t think twice when they eat you up!”

“No, general. How could you laugh? My family’s been killed, my friend’s been killed, and you LAUGH!! What kind of scumbag are you, treating my life like a joke, how dare you!” Eric yelled out, before sinking his face back into his hands. Roderick panicked and tried to apologise, but Sanctullator simply crossed his arms, leaned back in his chair, and whistled.

“Easy there, junior. Didn’t mean to step on your toes. But let’s be for real here, why take your anger out on me, and not the sick bastards who ruined your life? They’re still out there, you know. Probably readying themselves for murdering more innocents.” He leaned forwards over the desk again. “That’s a far more pressing matter, don’t you agree?”

Eric sniffled, and shook his head. “I swear, I want them all dead. To the abyss with their lives, all of them. No remorse, no tears, no regrets, nothing, they deserve to rot for all eternity. My family, my friends, my home, they’re never going to stop unless we stop them first,” he said.

Sanctullator was delighted. Ask, and ye shall receive, as they say. “Just the way you, I, and the Emperor wants it. This cult’s been ruining this land for far too long. You should have seen the dilapidated state the cities were in when we first arrived. A bunch of nobles professing their heresy on the backs of hard workers. No wonder that the only people we find in their pathetic gangs are former nobles, and moronic kids.”

The room fell silent. Roderick twiddled with his fingers, Eric dried his tears, and Sanctullator stared out the windows. Outside, clouds covered up the sun, its sharp light no longer cast down into the conference hall. The city streets bustled; another fine day for commerce. “Is there anything else we can discuss? This is getting rather dull,” Roderick said after some time.

Sanctullator threw his hands up. “What else is there to talk about? Other than those two crones still not being here?” He let out a harsh sigh. “Useless. Absolutely useless.”

“Well, how’s your day been?” Roderick asked.

“Average. Paperwork, researching, thinking up new strategies or policy changes, daydreaming, that sort of thing. There’s more but that’s generally it.” Sanctullator replied.

“...Daydreaming? What do you mean with that, your excellence?”

“Life beyond war, generally. My wife and kids, living peacefully in the Core. I miss them.” Sanctullator stared at his feet. “I know people see me as a grumpy son of a bitch with a short fuse and all, but...” He sighed, and rested his forehead against his hands. “It gets hard without them.”

“I didn’t know you had a family,” Roderick said.

“Now you do. But that’s none of your concern, leave that to me.” Sanctullator turned his gaze towards the ceiling. Couldn’t keep that a secret forever, I suppose.

* * *

The next ten minutes came and went. Complete silence, spare for the city ambience fand impatient finger tapping against the surface of the table. Sanctullator grumbled. Part of him believed he’d been taken as a fool. Given Bellona’s absence, he couldn’t help it. She was the type who’d play pranks on those she’d call her friend, purely to establish dominance over them. Then again, that frail old baroness Agatha wasn’t here either, and she whimpered and faltered before him at the slightest aggression. She was far too ladylike for such trickery. Unless Bellona threatened her into playing along. He’d find the cause out soon enough.

After an eternity spent staring out the window, the sounds of footsteps finally emerged from the stair shaft.

“Alright you lazy old wench, hurry up. Is climbing stairs really this difficult?”

“Why, you vile woman! Has your mother ever taught you manners? What did I ever do to deserve such crude treatment?”

“Being slow, that’s what!”

Sanctullator grumbled, and rose from his chair. “Will you two imbeciles shut it already! We’ve been sitting here for hours waiting for you two, and if you don’t get over here right now, I’ll have you sent off on suicide missions, HURRY UP!”

The wooden steps thumped rapidly. Sanctullator sank back into his chair, and crackled a smile. Always gets people moving, I swear. A few eyeblinks later, Bellona dashed into the room, the golden stripes on her collar dazzling in the sunlight. She brushed sweat off her forehead, and reached for a chair on Sanctullator’s side of the table.

“Right then, what are we- Hey, you’re that kid I met in Riverside a week or two back. What are you doing here?”

Eric bit his cheeks. “I’m the guildmaster of the Civil Defense now.”

“That quickly? Wow.” Bellona raised her eyebrows. “You know, I kinda saw that in you back then. Where are those guys you were with, by the way?”

“One’s still with us, the other is dead,” Eric said in a harsh manner. Bellona was awestruck; most didn’t dare to speak so blunt to her. “Does that answer the question? he continued. She said nothing, and turned her head away from him. Agatha emerged from the stairs moments thereafter, heaving for breath.

“I’m sorry for being so late, please forgive me,” she said in between gasps, holding herself up against a windowsill.

“Sure you are, you rickety old crone,” Bellona said.

Sanctullator slammed his fist on the table, sending ink spatters flying out the well and onto the flat surface. Everyone’s attention snapped to him. “Shut it, will you? This isn’t some cheap tavern that smells like piss and vomit, this is official meeting of the Lokahnian Military Council, you idiots. We’re attempting to win a war here, and if you’re not interested in helping out with that, you can jump out the window.” He gestured at the window behind him, an ominous fate awaiting far below to those who would heed.

Bellona groaned, as Agatha sat next to Sanctullator, her eyes shifting between the captain staring ferociously back, and the grumpy general in between. Sanctullator grabbed a few sheets of paper off the stack, and took the quill in his hands. “Let’s get this started, then.” Lady Justitia almighty, we’re finally starting. All this precious time lost, never to be gotten back. Why do I put up with these idiots still?

“Right, let’s get the basic facts on a line. A few days ago, our Spectre teams returned from the Occidentis Mountains. My hypothesis had been correct. The Draconist base is within those mountains, in between the seas to the west and the rest of the country to the east. The region is a rural backwatcher, with the city of Westedge to the north as the lone major population center nearby. Our goal today is to devise a plan to crush this hideout into the dirt.” Sanctullator transcribed his words onto the paper. “This task will be extraordinarily difficult, but necessary to end this war.”

“What makes the Spectres say the base is there?” Roderick asked.

“Simple. They have discovered a cave from which dragons would depart and return to every day. When they investigated further, they found various traces and signs of dragon activity in the valley the cave overlooked. An inspection of the cave revealed a path of claw prints, which ran to a manmade door. They’re there, the Spectres are sure of it.”

“Let’s cut the crap, general. How do we get there so we can kill ‘em. Is there any maps of the area or any roads that lead there?” Bellona asked.

”First off, I’m not some ‘general’, I’m the governor of the Lokahn Territory as well as one of his Majesty’s finest generals. Either address me properly, or scoot out of the window. Secondly, there are no roads leading there. We have maps of the surrounding geology and that’s it. The mountains themselves can be traversed by a small strike force, and that’s it. And before you mention it, the army is still busy in the far east, and we can’t just throw whatever we have at that base. Got it?”

Bellona rasped a breath between her teeth. “Yes, your highness. Excellence, I meant.”

Sanctullator pretended to not have heard the former remark; the conversation tired him already. The greater part of him wanted to blitz through and forget about this as soon as possible, even though this meeting was the most important one he’d had in years. “Right, does anyone have objections to what has been said so far?” he said. No one replied.

“I see, no objections.” Sanctullator stuck the quill back in the well, and stood up. He grabbed a pencil, and sketched a crude route onto the map. Two boxes, labelled ‘Merc.’ and ‘37th’ were to march west from Ravens Hill and the old Lokahnian capital of Citadel City, and link up at Westedge. Or so the others guessed; Sanctullator’s sketch was next to intelligible, his lines constantly skirted off the roads into vast stretches of untamed woods and swamps.

“Your excellence, I don’t understand what ‘Merc’ and ‘37th’ are supposed to mean. I’m pretty sure those two regiments don’t exist,” Eric said.

“Not yet, they do. Those are the forces we’ll use for this, we’ll get to that later,” the general replied. “Right, my apologies for the abysmal drawings, but bear with me, yes? We’ll have two seperate forces for this, as you can see. They are to march separate from each other to Westedge, where they will link up and then travel to the base. There, the Spectres will point them towards the base, and they’ll do their business. That’s the idea, anyhow.”

Roderick tapped his foot softly. “Hmm… so they’ll have to march from the Citadel and Ravens Hill without being seen. Your excellence, are you sure this can be done? I’d imagine they’d have someone keeping an eye on the Westedge Pass, since that’s the only army suited path we have towards Westedge.”

Sanctullator nodded, and bit at his cheeks. “True, True. Hmm… you wizard have that one invisibility spell, right? Can’t you use that? That would be a boon in the actual attack as well, now that I think about it.”

“It’s a very intensive spell to use. I’ll be exhausted after escorting just a single force through, let alone a second. I’ll have to rest for about a week afterward, enough time for the dragons to catch wind of the sudden deployments at Westedge.”

Damn, why does every idea that comes to mind get shot down so easily? Sanctullator sighed. “That’s a shame. Still, getting one army through unnoticed is valuable. But which one, though?”

Bellona lifted her head off her arms, which she had thrown on the table. “Not even a question. I’m guessing ‘Merc’ won’t entirely consist of our men. Is that true?” she said. Sanctullator nodded. “If they see those troops, they’ll probably get a wind of what we’re planning for ‘em, whereas the 37th will be seen as a regiment rotation or something. We already have regiments in Westedge, after all.”

“Good, good,” Sanctullator said. “Is this okay with you, Roderick?”

“Yes, yes it is,” he said, his head lowered in disappointment. It was plain as day that he had issues with the plan, but no one asked him about it. Roderick had complained earlier that he wanted to return to his studies, but that chance had faded, given how tangled up in the mess he’s gotten.

“So then, these two regiments… how many men will we have in them? And what kind of troops do we need, exactly?” Eric asked.

“One hundred each?”

“Nope, too much,” Bellona said. “You said it yourself, there’s no roads there, and it’s a steep mountain range we’re talking about. No way in the abyss you’ll ever fit more than a hundred men total in those valleys and crags.”

“Fifty a piece, then?”

“That’s better.”

“But who’s going in them, then? We still don’t know who in Justitia’s name we’re going to send over there,” Eric said. “What do we need to kill dragons?”

“Archers. A lot of them,” Bellona replied. ”Every dragon kill we’ve managed so far is the result of skill and well disciplined archers, that’s what we’ll need. Even better if they’re wielding crossbows.”

“But we haven’t got very many of those, have we?” the so-far quiet Agatha said. “I remember, last inspection I didn’t see many archers in the ranks.”

Sanctullator rolled his eyes. “The last time you were at an inspection was five months ago, Agatha. First off, ever since the insurgency started, we’ve been training archers like wildfire. Second, the Emperor has sent many troops this way from the east. He says the situation there is rapidly developing in our favor, and he now has men to spare. We have plenty of good men now.”

“Oh, my apologies,” Agatha said. Bellona grinned, and relaxed in her chair with her hands behind her head.

“Now, who’s going to lead this whole thing? Because I can’t. My guild needs me more than ever right now,” Eric said. A loud whistling noise made him jump out of his seat. He turned his head to see a smug Bellona smiling at him.

“Me, of course.”

“You? Are you sure-”

“Don’t even ask, laddie. I’m experienced with fighting dragons like you are, and I’m more than ready to lead. Ask anyone who’s ever served under me.”

Eric groaned, and leaned back in his chair. “Fine.” The grin on Bellona’s face twisted further smug and full of herself; as if to twist the knife in deeper and deeper.

“When I’ll come back with dozens of dragon heads, you can apologise.”

“Right, it is decided then. All that’s left is to assemble the men needed to fill the regiments. We’ll need to find the absolute best troops we have for this. Bellona, I leave this task to you. Get to the Citadel, our men have orders to gather there, as well as inRavens Hill. Find the best swordsmen and archers you can, then come back here.”

“About damn time you give me something to do. I was getting sick of this meeting anyway.” Bellona jumped out of her chair, and with the wind she vanished back down the stairs.

Sanctullator grumbled to himself, and kicked a leg of the table. Ugh, disrespectful bitch. We weren’t done yet. “Right… Eric, I’d appreciate it if you could recommend some good men. You don’t have to help with organizing, I’ll have the local garrison captain do this, yes?”

“Yes, I understand, your excellence,” Eric said. “I know someone perfect for this job. He’s suffered just like I have, and he’s been a good friend to me. He’s shy, but his archery skills saved my life.”

“Good to hear. Well then, that concludes this meeting...unless someone wishes to add something.” Roderick and Eric stared emptily at him, before getting up to leave. Agatha remained on her seat, staring nervously out in front of her. Her facial muscles tensed up, her shaky breath overshadowed by gusts outside. As the echoes of the two men’s footsteps became quieter and quieter, he followed their lead, and left as well, leaving Agatha all by herself. Time to get back to work.

* * *

Agatha was all alone. Slowly, she pressed her fingers onto the map, and dragged them towards the western side, on top of the square representing the town of Westedge. The red in her signet sparkled brightly onto the line running through the pass carrying the town’s namesake. The baroness shook her head.

“The pass… why didn’t I say something?”