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V12: Chapter 11
🕑 Added 2025-11-03 16:37:09 +0000 UTCV12: Chapter 11
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Interlude: Crusher
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If I had one regret, it would be that I would not be able to see the start of our war against the remains of our ancestor’s foes.
The Citadel offered much. Even though I lost my power, it could give me back my youth. However, my body was corrupted beyond its ability to heal, as I held the blade for too long. Monthly visits became weekly ones. Soon, I would need to dwell in the Citadel and sleep in one of the healing chambers, taking up space that a warrior recovered from battle needed. In just a few more months, I will spend more than half a day in the healing chambers, and when that time comes, I will join my ancestors after saying farewell to my children.
They are strong, stronger than I will ever be, and I leave the Conquerors behind regarded as equals and cherished by a wise ruler. Sometimes, I wished that the Deliverer still lived. He would have helped advise the King of Wisdom. He would have been able to lessen the burden Jack shouldered and perhaps even secure a better future for our people. If I were a better leader, if he were in my place, then our people would never have been touched by corruption.
We would have more people, be stronger, and perhaps even have allies instead of subjects.
But I was not a better leader, nor was I the Deliverer.
Instead, I was a leader who could leave his work to trusted subordinates and a father who will leave his children with more than he had as a child.
As a leader and a father, I had no regrets.
But as a general, I wished that I could have seen the armies I helped forge wage war.
The army that now marched together towards our borders to secure them against the coming tide.
Eighty thousand troops.
A number that could be understood on paper but was staggering to try and comprehend.
But they marched right now, in lockstep, together in a long line from the camps towards the Citadel, where dozens of machines that can pull hundreds of carriages awaited them. Once I had asked Jack why he had cobblestone roads built to service the camps when dirt paths were enough, but now as thousands walked, I worried that even those roads would crumble.
Eighty thousand soldiers, each armed with their own firearm and carrying enough supplies for ten days. Each one clad in the same uniform, provided the same alchemical enhancements, trained to fight in accordance to their station, and with their mettle ready to be tested. Every hundred soldiers were followed by two cannons, each one with assigned horses, and carriages with ammunition. For every thousand soldiers there was a core group of officers, clerks, chefs, and messengers. Then came Conquerors, mages, and more after them.
In another four months, another eighty thousand or more will come forth.
Then, after another season, another.
How long before the army that Jack envisioned will come to be?
A force that will not just hold the line but push back against the entire world?
Some part of me questioned if this was not enough, especially with the machines that were being built to support them.
The order of battle for these new troops was something out of the golden age.
Thousands of soldiers maneuvering through the battlefield to find advantageous positions. Overlapping fields of rifle fire laying down steady streams of lead downrange into masses of enemy forces. Automatic firearms emplaced and fed with hundreds of rounds, stopping enemies in place and cutting through enemy lines. Charges by cavalry disrupted by grenades before being mowed down by smaller-caliber automatic weapons.
The main force was deadly enough, but mages would be supporting them, along with cannons. The army is present to deal damage and to keep the enemy in place, while mages and artillery kill them. Explosive shells will kill anything that holds against the deluge of bullets. Anything bullets cannot kill will be struck with speeding spears lobbed out of cannons made from Citadel alloys. Mages will be present to shield troops, debilitate the enemy, and when the opportunity is right, fire upon the enemy with their own spells.
Conquerors act as light cavalry and the vanguard both. A role that we were meant for. That we were created for. Every Conqueror was expected to master the long rifle, explosives, and the broad blade, as well as how to hunt silently and disrupt enemy supply lines. After that, they were to train in anything that they wished, so long as they could justify its deadliness. They practiced and warred against one another, sharpening their skills and finding new weaknesses and strengths as they did. In battle, once the enemy fled, they would be unleashed from their task of hunting champions and killing officers so that they could run down the enemy.
Then, finally, there was the final piece being crafted by the Forgers, who divested themselves of their chains.
Machines that flew faster, that could climb higher, and that could carry more than flying cavalry could ever hope to. They were to be armed with automatic weapons, carry bombs large enough to shame cannons, and dominate the skies. Their factory was already being built, the first prototypes flown and tested, and soon they will be our ultimate sword, while the aerial fortresses will be our ultimate shield.
Unbidden, a single word left my lips as I stared at the army that I helped train that now marched to the future.
“Magnificent.” The world slipped forth from my lips. I reeled back and placed a hand on my chest. My heart was racing, and I chuckled softly as I felt the urge to check to see if I was alone. It was unbecoming of a man my age, with all his hair gray and much of his strength long diminished. Thankfully, I was alone and able to continue looking upon the force that I helped create as they walked towards their destiny. The words I said to them at their graduation resurfaced. “Go forth and seize the world.”
Jack had merely suggested the phrase, but I knew in my heart that they were the perfect words to be said.
How can this army with all its fury and might do anything less?
…
Interlude: Riegert
…
Every day that I awoke felt like a blessing.
The memories of paradise were quick to fade after I returned, and since then I have cherished every moment of my new life.
Though a part of me wished to lay down my arms, to build or create something in celebration of my new life, I did not.
There were still too many threats for me to ignore.
Three knocks came upon my door, and I raised my head from the letter Ilych sent me.
“Enter.”
“Captain, if I keep finding you like this, I’ll report that something’s wrong with your head.” Oswald entered with an easy smile, and I rose as he gave a salute. I returned it before offering him my hand. He shook it with a grin. “Still surprised to see you sitting behind your desk, despite you being back for so long.”
“If you want it back, you’ll need to become a general.” I joked back, and he laughed before our hands parted. I gestured for him to follow me to the drinks cart. I partook more often now, mostly of new spirits produced by regional farms, but I also wore a charm that ensured I would not be debilitated by the drink. I was not after drunkenness. Just flavor and sensation. “I’ll write the letter to recommend you at our officer school.”
“You’ve written plenty of those. After you got back, you’ve been sending a lot of us away.” Oswald noted and accepted the brandy. Jack encouraged the sale of alcohol across our lands in state-run shops and bars. There people could be as inebriated as they could afford and be ready for work the next day thanks to a single pill produced by the ton in Citadels. Those who drank the most often were required on an off day to go to a Citadel for repairs to their body, however. Some grumbled at the requirements, despite death and deterioration being an outcome if they did not do as they were bid. “You’re at the training yard less, too. That fight did a number on you, huh?”
Oswald was concerned about my recent changes, and I considered his words carefully while taking a sip of the peach-based spirit I poured.
“As I died, my main concern was not being present to lead. We have more than enough military strength on the field, but without able leaders, without aggression, they’re little more than garrisons.” Oswald listened and took a sip from his glass. I made mine colder and found the bitterness of the spirit waning, and I offered to do the same for his glass. He accepted, and I returned the chilled drink to him. “We both know that the common soldier we now field is peerless, but the officers lack experience. They’re well trained, and they have strategies at their disposal, but there are times in battle when aggression and speed are the most necessary. That can be found in our expedition corps, and I want that spread across the ranks.”
“Sounds fair enough. More than fair now that you’ve explained it. But what about you not showing up at the training field anymore? The boys are asking when you’ll throw around whole squads again.” Oswald did not say it, but it was obvious. Rumors probably abounded about my brush with death. They probably wondered if I lost my nerve. Oswald speaking directly about the training field and my old practice was him advising me to do the same to dispel any rumors and concerns. “Aren’t you up to getting a bit rough?”
“I am, but time hasn’t permitted it. I’ve been practicing my magic most of all. That fight would have been better if I could have slowed the beast down, blinded it, or frozen its armor to make it easier to shatter.” Oswald blinked at my words and glanced at his cup. I couldn’t help but smirk a little as he sent a glower my way for forcing him to worry. I chuckled. “I’ll spend time with the troops again, don’t worry. I haven’t lost my desire to fight with them. I just need a few months more to relearn a few basics enough to use in battle. I’ve neglected a fair bit since I left the Academy.”
It almost felt strange to mention the Academy, since the nation that held it and the institution itself were now gone.
But I shook my head and looked at Oswald.
“The expeditionary corps will be moving to assist the Guardians in taking the Warden lands soon. Are they ready?” We were set to join the three other armies of our nation already there. It seemed like overkill, especially with the Guardians already making quick inroads, but the more power we brought to bear, the swifter the resolution of the conflict. That meant fewer lives lost on our side. “We’ll be helping secure Merchant, Forger, and Warden lands after, too.”
“Aye, they’re ready. Frankly, they’ve been antsy since coming back and being told there won’t be another one.” Oswald admitted with a grunt. “I think they’ve gotten used to traipsing around in hostile lands. They don’t think much of it.”
I raised a brow at his statement.
“Fair, given what we’ve faced, but make sure that they know what we’ll be fighting. The Wardens are beyond reason. They might even start throwing children at us once we threaten their Citadel proper.” Oswald grimaced and acknowledged my words with a grunt. No soldier wanted to be involved in a fight with children at the other end of the gun or spear, even if that child was willing to die to kill him. Even if the child could be revived, killing them took something away from a soldier. Something that Citadels can’t easily fix. “How are they adapting to their new weapons?”
The new rifle prototypes that arrived were a new iteration of the rifles they brought to test during the expedition. Use and testing with the new trainees at the camp brought improvements and new models of every weapon that we brought along. The changes seemed minor, but small changes to products produced by entire factories required a lot of planning and time. The recently trained batches of recruits will not see the changes that they requested, perhaps not even the next wave, since their weapons were already made.
“Nothing but compliments all around. Less jamming, easier to clean, and lighter. Means that they can carry more munitions.” During our expedition, we had to take the weapons of those who fell and use them for parts or simply as extra weapons once ours failed. We used all our weapons to the breaking point and expended all the ammunition that we brought with us. “They appreciate the new sights the most. Once they align it, they can hit targets farther than they used to. The new rifle’s shorter barrel doesn’t matter as much as we thought.”
“Good. Tell them to put the guns through their paces. Let’s put our own suggestions forward for the next batch.” The rifle now had a smaller stock and shorter barrel, as well as a thinner frame overall. The machined parts were all the same, but it was lighter as a result. Some of the troops looked at it with suspicion since it seemed more delicate, but Oswald’s statements made it seem that the new rifles grew on them after use. “Remind them that they can keep and maintain their current rifles if they don’t like the new ones, but every bit of weight removed from each rifle is more ammunition carried by every soldier and less material needed by the factory.”
“They might not need the reminder, but I’ll tell them anyway.” Oswald simply agreed and finished his drink. He looked at his empty glass for a moment before giving a smile and eyeing the cart. “So, are you busy learning magic, or do you have some time to spare for a bit more drinking?”
“I have time.” I confirmed with a smile of my own. My memories of paradise were faint, but one of the things I most clearly recalled was that I could not find those who remained. Ilych was not there, nor Khanrow, nor anyone else who I called friend. All of them were still fighting, and that soured it for me a great deal. Now, with the opportunity to spend time with them, I was determined to make the most of it. Even in the face of Armageddon. “You want a glass of the same, or would you care to try something else?”
“I leave it to you. I’ve got the tongue for drinking. Not the mind for it.”
We shared a chuckle at his joke, and I allowed myself to relax.
For now, instead of war, I focused on sharing a drink with a friend.
Comments
Danerol
This expedition guys are like mem US marines from Vietnam war
Responsible Person
Nothing gets it going quite like orc bro glazing Jack first thing in the morning. (I know what kind of man you are Sage, I just can't prove it.)
