Meanwhile, in the northern civil war region of Burgos.
Crows descended upon mountains of corpses, and below them, a river of blood soaked the blighted earth. As soldiers trudged through the muck, their boots sinking deep with every step, they began the grim task of pulling down the bodies. The crows cried out in mournful protest. The weeping of survivors sometimes mingled with the din, but it was tragically lost, swallowed by the noise of mere beasts. Screams, shouts, and wails were the mundane soundtrack to their lives.
“Now that’s one hell of a view.”
Efdiram, chief of the Atan tribe, observed the scene from atop a rampart. She had arrived in Burgos late at night and had not seen the landscape in detail. The world revealed by the rising sun was a sight that could only be described as utterly wretched. Perhaps it would have been better if the sun had never risen at all.
“Isn’t this what it’s like beneath the rifts?” her subordinate, Veno, added quietly.
“Well, I imagine it’s similar. Where’s Rutherford?”
“Not here yet.”
“Playing hard to get, that son of a bitch. After we came all this way.” Efdiram’s face contorted into a scowl. They had been in the anti-royalist faction’s stronghold for days, but Rutherford had yet to show his face. All they needed was to confirm that he had truly returned and to learn his plans for Idgal and the rifts. The bastard.
“Could this have been a ploy by the anti-royalists?”
“Claiming Rutherford has returned would certainly help them rally their scattered forces,” Efdiram mused. “But we saw it with our own eyes, didn’t we? Ian Hielo returned around the same time. This can’t be a lie.”
Just as she flicked a stray, curly lock of hair from her face, she sensed a presence. Turning her head, she saw Rutherford, his coat thrown carelessly over his shoulders, approaching with his entourage. She leaned back, draping an arm over the back of her chair as she sized them up.
“Yo. Lookin’ sharp.”
“Efdiram. It’s been a while.”
“Yeah, it has. Wow, you’re an expensive man to see these days. Your value seems to have gone up quite a bit in the last ten years.”
“You, on the other hand, haven’t changed at all.”
Efdiram’s eyes scanned Rutherford, who hadn’t aged a day in a decade. Damn, look at them. This one and that one… she was dying to know what in the seven hells had happened to them down there. She crossed her legs and looked up at him.
“Let’s cut to the chase. Can you still make Idgal? You know the world has changed, right? Idgal is now being used to suppress the rifts. Setting aside its use in checking the Bariel mages, the rifts themselves are being sealed. As the chief of the Atan, I need to know your exact position on this.”
“The rifts will continue to expand,” Rutherford stated.
“Aha. And your basis for that?”
The power of the god is growing stronger. He had not said so directly, but Rutherford could feel it with absolute certainty. The emergence of new rifts meant that the god slumbering beneath the earth had begun to stir.
“There is a suspected site near the heart of Bariel.”
“Wow. Inside Bariel?” Efdiram raised a single, skeptical eyebrow.
“I can still produce Idgal, but I will control its distribution in order to facilitate the activation of the rifts.”
“So, you’re saying your goal is still the same as ours?”
“Let us say our path is the same. Our destinations are far too different to be considered identical.”
“Think whatever you like. Does it change the reality of the situation?” Efdiram extended a hand, a gesture to seal their old pact and forge a new one.
But Rutherford merely swept his hair back, his eyes looking down at her offered hand. Something was wrong. Veno’s hand went to the hilt of his sword.
“By the way,” Rutherford said, his voice casual, “you seem to have brought something useless with you.”
“Useless?”
“Did you have a… disagreement with the Bariel Imperial Palace before you came here?”
“Ah, shit. You’re starting with that already?” He knew. Rutherford tossed a rolled-up dispatch toward her.
“This arrived from a Bariel delegation. It claims there was an armed conflict between the Royal Guard and the Atan tribe at the border. The palace is now hunting you to ‘settle the matter’ and has demanded that we hand you over. Do you understand what this means?”
Efdiram picked up the parchment between two fingers, as if handling something foul. “Ha. So that’s how they’re going to play it.”
“If we refuse, Bariel will join forces with the royalists. If we hand you over… well, it would be a shame, considering the hand you just offered me.”
“Bullshit. A shame? Don’t make me laugh.” He was only saying that because he was desperate for the Atan’s military strength. From their chief to their warriors, their ranks were filled with powerful mages and magic swordsmen. Even their common soldiers possessed a warrior’s spirit that would be invaluable in battle.
“So, what is it you want? For us to leave? After stringing us along for days, this is the reason you’ve finally graced us with your presence?”
“You must prove to us that you are valuable enough to justify the risk we would be taking on your behalf.” Rutherford gestured to the men standing behind him—the leaders of the anti-royalist faction. They stared at Efdiram, their expressions grim and severe.
“Value… Value, you say…” Efdiram mused, a dangerous glint in her eye. “If I were to take your head from your shoulders right here, would that be sufficient proof of my blade’s sharpness?”
“Tsk, tsk. So barbaric.”
“Yes, the barbarian is here,” Efdiram shot back, flicking her middle finger. “Who said that? Was it you, dog? Step forward.”
Veno gently intervened, trying to calm her. He understood her frustration, but their situation was precarious. As they all knew, Rutherford and the Atan shared a common interest, and if they were to leave Burgos, they would have no choice but to face Bariel.
“Bariel originally wanted the Atan’s cooperation,” Veno interjected smoothly. “Regarding the management of the northern rifts. This wanted order is merely a ploy to sever any potential alliance between us and Burgos. If we were to return to Bariel, the empire would welcome us with open arms. And that would be somewhat problematic for you, would it not?”
“The people who follow the stars and chase the wind would deign to live under the boot of an empire? Surprising. You’ve changed a great deal, Efdiram.”
“Why don’t you cut the blustering and meet us halfway?” Efdiram snapped, her patience gone. “Burgos is on the verge of collapse. What do you plan to do without us?”
The men behind Rutherford scoffed at her words, but Rutherford simply smiled and waved a dismissive hand. “Burgos may be collapsing, it is true. But you are not the only ones who wish to walk this path with us.”
“What?”
“Every nation on the continent, save for Bariel and Clifford, will join forces. The more Bariel is torn apart, the more satisfying the feast will be for the hungry.”
“From the sound of it, Ruswena is joining the war again.”
“Is it not human nature to wish to erase the humiliations of the past?”
“Just say their memories are short. Why dress it up in fancy words?”
Though her tone was dismissive, Efdiram understood perfectly. If Bariel were to fall, Ruswena could reclaim the mages it had lost and refuse to pay the remainder of its war reparations. And with only a fledgling Crown Prince defending the throne and the Ministry of Magic a shadow of its former self, there would never be a better opportunity to strike.
“Will Hawan join as well?”
“It is highly likely.”
“You just can’t give a straight answer, can you?”
“But I will give you one certainty.”
“What is it?”
Rutherford looked up at the sky, where the crows still circled, and smiled. “This time, Tuloon will also lend its strength to Burgos.” If Bariel were to push through Burgos, Tuloon would be next. For them, Burgos was a necessary buffer state.
Efdiram chewed on her fingertips, her mind racing. Finally, she burst out in frustration, “What’s the problem if we stick with you? We’re going to be fighting Bariel to the bloody end anyway.”
“The justification,” Rutherford said simply. “You are the justification.”
“Haa… Fine. Alright. What do you want from us? This is like some kind of… friendship fee, isn’t it? Fucking petty bastards. But once we prove our worth, I don’t want to hear another word. Tell me. What do you want?”
“First, we are currently tracking the location of the Bariel delegation. When they are found, you will go and… take care of them.” The Atan would do it themselves. That way, Burgos would have no official involvement, but it would provoke an attack from Bariel, securing them the moral high ground on the international stage. It would also prevent the Atan from playing both sides like a bat. “Uh-huh. And?”
“You will stand at the forefront of the battle against the Bariel army.”
“Be honest with me. You don’t have many soldiers, do you?”
“Efdiram. Your unchanging nature is a virtue, but you are beginning to cross the line.”
“Jeez, mister, your sense of humor is well and truly dead.” Efdiram stretched her arms wide, then let out a short, sharp sigh. What choice did she have? There was only one path forward. “Fine. Let’s get in the same boat. And if it sinks, we can all go to the underworld together.”
Just as Rutherford was about to turn and leave, Efdiram asked one last question. “But what are you going to do about the royalists? Shouldn’t you deal with them first, before foreign powers get involved?”
“That is not your concern.”
“Fine, be that way. Do whatever you want.” Efdiram cracked her knuckles and rolled her shoulders. After days of eating and sleeping and smelling nothing but blood, her body was itching for a fight. This was for the best.
“Let’s go.”
As Efdiram and Veno descended from the rampart, one of the anti-royalist nobles whispered to his colleague, “Can we truly trust them?”
“Her personality may be rough, but her skills are undeniable. Even that infamous Atan magic swordsman in the Imperial Palace would be no match for her. Can you compare those who grew up feasting on demonic beasts to those who did not?”
“Ugh. You mean that wild one?”
“Precisely. In any case, the full force of the Royal Guard is unlikely to be deployed, so if the Atan take the front line, they will be more than enough to hold them off until we can fully rally our forces. They might even accomplish more than that.”
***
CLANG! CLANG! CLANG!
“Ugh! It’s so loud!”
And at that very moment, back in Bariel, Beric, who had passed out on the sofa in the Minister’s office, clamped a pillow over his ears. It was never quiet here, but it had never been this loud. After several failed attempts to ignore the din, he finally shot up and threw the door open.
BANG!
“What in the hell is all this noise!”
“Oh, it’s Beric.”
“There he is. His busted-up face is the same as ever.”
“Beric, hello. Even we who live in burrows can distinguish between day and night, you know.”
Dozens of Dera, none of them taller than his thigh, were swarming the Ministry of Magic. They had just arrived, and each one was laden with a ridiculously large pack. The mages were struggling to navigate the chaotic sea of dwarves, and several of the newcomers were gleefully testing the structural integrity of the Ministry’s walls with their hammers.
So that’s the source of the noise.
“Hey! Why are you banging on the walls with your hammers?”
“Well, I can’t exactly use your head, can I?”
“Look at this one, starting a fight the moment he sees me.”
“Alright, everyone! If I could have your attention, please!” It was Romandro, looking completely drained and drenched in sweat from his attempts to manage the new arrivals. He waved a sheaf of papers in the air. “The land where the Dera will be staying and working has just been purchased. We will move your luggage for you, so please, make your way there first. You can check the facilities and let us know if anything is lacking.”
“Oh, yeah? Let’s go!”
“I’m in! Why waste time out here? Let’s get started!”
“The biggest forge is mine!”
“Rock-paper-scissors for it!”
“Says the one who can’t even open his fist all the way.”
Rumble. Like a colony of moles, the Dera began to move as one at Romandro’s direction. Even the mages paused to watch the rare and fascinating spectacle. As dozens of massive carriages began to file out of the courtyard, Ian appeared and placed a light hand on Beric’s shoulder.
Tap.
“Ian! Those damn moles are—”
“Beric.”
At the sound of his name, Beric stopped his complaint. Ian nodded toward the departing dwarves.
“If you are well-rested, let’s go and help with the luggage. It’s time to start working.”