Ogre Tyrant: Chapter 63 - Duty and desperation - Part One

 

The shocked and defeated expressions worn by the Duke and Duchess said it all. Whatever they had expected to find, it hadn’t been me.

 

Sebet and Gric had alerted me to their preparations well in advance while I remotely modelled the reception hall in an isolated corner of the Demi-Plane. Their contingencies and trump cards were all accounted for.

 

The Duke and Duchess were not to know, but the open roof concept was not an aesthetically motivated design decision. The initial motivation had been driven by necessity. I was not an engineer or architect and was not confident in building large structures. The risk of collapse would be simply far too high. However, the open ceiling served a secondary practical purpose beyond eliminating the possibility of a collapsing roof.

 

Eliminating the ceiling allowed ready access to the Daemons waiting outside.

 

In stark contrast to the perfectly smooth inner walls, the outer walls were rough and possessed large exposed segments of stratified stone to provide natural anchoring points for climbing. Of course, Dar would most likely just crash through the wall rather than waste time climbing it, and a few of the Daemons with wings would probably fly over, but they were the exceptions.

 

The Daemons were intended as a show of force if it proved necessary. Otherwise, if there was a genuine threat, I would simply banish the dangerous elements deep underground.

 

“This is the Duke Savva and Duchess Katia of the Semenov Duchy,” I explained, answering Lash’s question as I took her hand. I gave her hand a gentle squeeze, taking the opportunity to enjoy the feel of her skin.

 

Lash squeezed my hand back and gave me a warm smile, missing the formal bow made by the Duke, and the flawless curtsy performed by the Duchess. “They are Asrusians?” Lash asked curiously, turning her head slightly so she could look at the gathered Semenovians from the corner of her eye.

 

I tried not to smirk as several of the Semenovian guards bristled in response. “No. They were Imperials, another Kingdom that was at war with the Asrusians. But they have sworn independence and are no longer part of the empire.”

 

“Imp-perials?...Oh...” Lash’s grip tightened and she cast a sympathetic glance toward the Semenovians. “They were attacked by the Liche,” She stated bluntly, her tone making it clear she now understood the reason for the Semenovians’ visit. “They want your protection.”

 

Not that the Semenovians were to know, but Lash’s presence was intended to temper any aggravation or frustration I had toward the Werrians as a whole. She and her people had suffered at the hands of another Awakened undead, and I doubted Lash would let them leave without some form of commitment to accept our protection.

 

I nodded, confirming that Lash had guessed the core of the situation.

 

There hadn’t been enough time to bring Lash up to speed beforehand, so I was glad that she could pick things up so quickly more or less on her own. However, our little back and forth had created a certain degree of tension amongst the Semenovians by stripping all ambiguity from their utterly untenable position.

 

Unfortunately for them, I would have ensured it happened by other means anyway. The weaker their bargaining position was, the faster they would arrive at the only sensible decision available to them.

 

“You have us at a disadvantage,” Duchess Katia declared boldly, making a play at seizing back the initiative. “I must apologise, for we do not know how best to treat with someone possessing such an exotic title.”

 

“Tyrant will suffice for myself,” I replied calmly and then motioned toward Lash with a turn of my head. “My wife, the Tyrantess, is free to choose what suits her.”

 

Lash’s amethyst eyes flashed with pride and she sat a little taller on her throne. She drew immense satisfaction from public affirmations of our relationship despite rarely raising the subject herself. “Tyrantess is fine,” Lash purred, smiling up at me rather than addressing the Semenovians themselves.

 

Despite Lash’s throne sitting atop a raised dais, there was still a certain disparity in our height that couldn’t have been eliminated without making her seem somewhat silly or childlike. Neither of which were observations I wanted to be made by the Semenovians.

 

“Tyrant and Tyrantess,” the Duke bowed and the Duchess curtsied for a second time.

 

“I will be blunt,” the Duke stated candidly, visibly irking his wife. “I have concerns regarding your motivations.”

 

Lash frowned and turned to look at the Duke. “You doubt him?” She asked quietly, the narrowing of her eyes and slight puffing out of her chest signalling it was not so much a question as a challenge.

 

“Not at all!” Duchess Katia replied hurriedly, the flourishing of her long wavy sleeves drawing Lash’s attention from her husband and toward herself. Not in an altogether dissimilar fashion to a Spanish matador. “The Duke simply meant that we lack sufficient information to understand why the Tyrantess and Tyrant are offering sanctuary to humans-”

 

“Sanctuary is not for humans,” Lash interjected flatly. “Some may enter, but only a few may stay.”

 

Quite understandably, the Duchess appeared to be at a loss.

 

I struggled hard to keep a straight face. Embarrassing Lash in front of the Semenovians would be cruel. “The meaning is the reason I chose the name,” I explained quietly and in as supportive a tone as I could manage.

 

“Oh,” Lash thought it over a few times and then nodded approvingly before waving at the Duchess to continue.

 

The Duchess rallied quickly. “That is the name of the capital?” She asked with feigned innocence, using the misunderstanding as an opportunity to glean further information.

 

“It is,” I replied candidly, curious to see how the Duke and Duchess would attempt to leverage the tidbit of information to their advantage.

 

I didn’t have to wait long.

 

“The Tyrantess said Sanctuary is not for humans,” Duchess Katia pressed curiously. “May I ask, why is that?”

 

“It is partially because Sanctuary is ill-suited to human habitation,” I admitted truthfully. “There is a wildness that lends itself well to most breeds of monsters, but not to humans.”

 

The Duchess nodded politely with an expression of carefully balanced curiosity and surprise, no doubt intended to encourage further explanation.

 

Not that I minded. I had intended to clarify Sanctuary’s somewhat xenophobic exclusion policy anyway.

 

“Many of the monsters who call Sanctuary home are former Slaves,” I stated bluntly. “Slaves who suffered at the hands of humans.” I paused so the Semenovians could appreciate the gravity of the revelation. “It would be profoundly cruel of me to inflict utterly unnecessary suffering and distress upon those who have already endured so much, would it not?”

 

“Indeed...” The Duke replied sombrely before stealing an uncertain glance toward his wife.

 

“But some humans are still allowed,” the Duchess pressed, although she too had adopted a more subdued energy. “Would they not be just as distressing?”

 

“No,” Lash replied before I had the chance. “Earning entry proves they are different.”

 

I nodded supportively in agreement. It was more or less the core of it. Even if the former Slaves couldn’t bring themselves to trust the few Humans allowed into Sanctuary, they would know that every Human had been thoroughly vetted and had my approval for being there.

 

“Ah, I see,” the Duchess nodded in such a way that it was clear she wanted us to believe that the answer was some great revelation and that she had not been capable of discerning as much from my own earlier comment.

 

Lash frowned and fixed Duchess Katia with an unimpressed stare. Lash was not an idiot and I could only guess that she had seen through the sycophantry just as I had.

 

“Tyrant,” Duke Savva stepped forward to draw attention away from his wife and toward himself. “We have concerns regarding the land for resettlement as well. What proof do you have that our people would not be relegated to an inhospitable wasteland or forced to live on charity within a slum?”

 

Lash and I shared an amused glance that unsettled the Semenovians.

 

“To have your concerns answered, you must first accept that the answers will have a steep price,” I warned them.

 

“You speak of oaths?” The Duchess asked expectantly.

 

I slowly shook my head, “No. This is too great a secret to trust in oaths.”

 

“Then what is the price?” Duke Savva asked determinedly.

 

“Acceptance,” I declared ominously and allowed the response to settle in their minds. “If I reveal the answer, you will not be permitted to leave without swearing fealty as my vassals.”

 

The Duke’s face paled and his guards shifted uneasily. Although I took note that none of the guards seemed foolish enough to reach for their weapons.

 

“A moment, Tyrant, please,” Duchess Katia requested with a curtsy.

 

I nodded and motioned for them to do as they will.

 

“Will you return soon?” Lash asked quietly, tilting her head to one side so her hair concealed her face from the Semenovians.

 

“Soon,” I agreed hesitantly. “But I am not sure exactly when...”

 

Lash nodded in understanding and clasped my hand tighter. “It is your duty,” she smiled and then leaned over the space between our two thrones and brought her lips up to my ear. “Just stay a long time when you do return!” Lash insisted in a lusty whisper before giving my ear a playful nip and withdrawing to her throne again.

 

Flustered, I focused my efforts on maintaining a straight face and ignoring the amused twinkle in Lash’s eyes.

 

“Tyrant, Tyrantess, we have made our decision,” the Duke announced determinedly with his Duchess standing supportively beside him. “We accept the price and want to learn the truth.”

 

Duchess Katia took the Duke’s hand and together they stared up at me expectantly.

 

“Very well.” I waved my hand and caused the stone floor between us to rise into a crude simulacrum of the Semenovian Capital.

 

The Semenovians gasped and stared at the replica in awe.

 

I pointed to the centre of the city, to the Labyrinth. “As large as your city is, its occupied territory pales compared to what is available within its Labyrinth,” I smirked slightly as the Duke and Duchess seemed to come to the obvious but wrong conclusion. “We are not inside of a Labyrinth.”

 

“Then, where are we?” The Duchess asked warily.

 

“Another world, formed from territory seized from the Labyrinths. A world under my absolute authority and control. My Demi-Plane.” With another wave of my hand, the replica city dissolved back into the floor. “Using Artefacts, I can absorb territory from the Labyrinths and make my world larger. Accommodating entire cities full of people is simply a matter of harvesting the Labyrinths to provide the necessary space.”

 

“But my advisors...they saw Asrusians hunting wild monsters...” The Duke exclaimed nervously.

 

“A means to allow novices to sharpen their skills, and for hunters to feed their communities,” I explained somewhat dismissively. “The wild monsters are only permitted to roam in specifically designated areas.”

 

“If we...” The Duchess took a moment to settle her nerves. “If we swear fealty, how would we secure land for our people? To my knowledge, we possess no Artefacts...”

 

I was glad to see the Semenovians coming around to the inevitable.

 

“You were not to know, but I allow worthy petitioners to borrow Artefacts in exchange for a tithe upon the territories it is used to bring into my Demi-Plane. Not for my personal gain, of course, but for public works,” I explained patiently. “There are those such as yourselves who arrive like beggars in the night. With nothing of value to bargain with and a desperately long list of needs going unmet.”

 

“Are there limits to the territory allowed?” The Duke asked slowly, fighting back a grimace and no doubt struggling to wrap his mind around the sudden and bizarre shift in his reality.

 

“Only the amount of territory you can seize from the Labyrinths themselves,” I replied evenly. “The Asrusians have been incredibly industrious in that regard,” I added, curious to see how the Semenovians would react.

 

“We understand,” Duchess Katia replied, nodding slightly as she and her husband shared a meaningful look. “To have an entire kingdom relocated, it makes sense that they have been busy...”

 

“Not as busy in that particular regard as you might expect,” I commented, allowing the Duke and Duchess to come to their own conclusions for the time being. Once they swore fealty, I would provide a more detailed explanation.

 

“How would we evacuate our people?” The Duke asked, his expression serious and burdened with deep concern. No doubt afraid that columns of refugees would need to travel overland and into former Asrusian territory to enter my Demi-Plane en masse.

 

“Portals will suffice for most, especially those within the cities,” I stated confidently. “And teleportation items would allow shepherding any stragglers.” Having already experienced several mass evacuations, I knew that transporting the refugees would be the easiest and comparatively straightforward task. However, processing and settling the refugees would be an entirely different Beast altogether.

 

“And your laws would prevent the Asrusians from seeking vengeance against us?” The Duke asked.

 

“Only through violent means,” I cautioned. “Bullying through trade wars or refusing requests for military cooperation would be entirely possible.”

 

The Duke nodded, no doubt having expected as much. However, he also seemed quite relieved. Compared to facing the superior numbers and established position of the Asrusians, a little economic pressure and political bullying was probably not even worth mentioning.

 

“The Tyrant’s envoy said we would retain our autonomy, is this true?” Duchess Katia asked in a carefully measured tone, trying not to appear overly invested in the outcome. All the same, raising the subject so late in our meeting improved my impression of the Duke and Duchess.

 

“With few exceptions, you would possess complete autonomy,” I agreed and raised my free hand to preempt the follow-up question. “Annexing, integrating or otherwise recruiting additional subjects from the outside world would require express permission. Similarly, if members of your Faction wish to join a different Faction, they are free to do so.”

 

Duke Savva furrowed his brow and nodded in understanding before looking to his wife expectantly.

 

“Tyrant, we have allies, Lords and Ladies of repute who would follow us if given the chance. Would they be permitted to swear fealty if we were to vouch for their character?” Duchess Katia implored with intense sincerity.

 

I considered the matter for a few moments before nodding in agreement. “They would need to be interviewed first, just as you were. Assuming they pass the test, then they would be permitted the opportunity to make the same choice that has been presented to the both of you.”

 

Sharing a deep meaningful look with one another, the Duke and Duchess nodded in unison. Supporting his wife while she lowered herself onto a bended knee, the Duke then followed suit afterwards. “We are prepared to swear our fealty,” they declared in unison, their eyes burning with conviction and determination.

 

After extracting oaths of fealty with only a minimal degree of coaching, I extended invitations to the twelve Semenovians and created their Faction. Under the pretence of recruiting their allies as vassals, and with no one to stop them, Duke Savva and Duchess Katia proclaimed themselves as King and Queen and the founding of the Semenovian Kingdom.

 

For the time being, I promoted Savva and Katia to Underlords. Once they had begun recruiting their subjects in earnest, they would be able to promote themselves further.

 

The more I explained how the promotions worked and what they allowed, the more overwhelmed the new King and Queen became.

 

Just like the Asrusians, they quickly became fixated on the passive pooling of Exp from the custom Classes and issuing of quests to power level their forces or otherwise motivate their subjects. However, the stacking capabilities of the Retinues left them utterly speechless upon realising the potential when combined with Synergies.

 

Before they became overly carried away, I followed through on the promise I had made to Clarice.

 

With allies and potential allies scattered throughout the fallen Werrian Empire, the Semenovian King and Queen had already intended to send out messengers via teleportation.

 

By piggybacking the teleportation of the messengers and sending along at least one of my champions, I would be able to remotely Summon projections of Sebet and Gric to perform comprehensive sweeps of each city. If any members of Clarice’s family were still alive, I could open a Breach and evacuate them directly.

 

As I prepared to open a Breach to the council chambers back in the Semenovian capital, I used my authority to summon Gric and Jayne to my location.

 

“My Tyrant,” Gric immediately knelt on one knee and bowed his head in deference.

 

Jayne did the same, but only after overcoming being disoriented.

 

“Jayne, the Semenovians are going to send messengers to their allies across the fallen Werrian Empire using wands of teleportation,” I explained while motioning toward the King and Queen. “I want you and your cousins to accompany them so I can remotely Summon projections of Sebet and Gric into each city,” I ordered.

 

“It will be done, Majesty!” Jayne slammed her right fist over her heart and bowed her head before getting to her feet and approaching the Semenovians.

 

“With Sebet occupied in delaying theConfederates' advance and liberating Slaves, Gric, I want you to spearhead the registration and vetting of the Semenovian refugees,” I commanded, confident that he would somehow find a way to somehow exceed my already high expectations.

 

Gric smiled faintly and squared his shoulders as he bowed his head, “As you command, my Tyrant!”

 

<Senn. Garn. Qreet. Dar. To me, now.> Even with Gric taking the brunt of the mental load, initiating and conducting a five-way telepathic conversation was immensely mentally taxing.

 

Garn, spindle-limbed and gothically grotesque, was the first to scale the wall. Propelled by his large bat-like wings, he cleared the wall with a single leap, absorbing the impact with his rubbery retracted wings.

 

Senn was next. While her long thick serpentine tail and lack of legs were a significant disadvantage, her two sets of arms and powerful hooked claws seemed more than capable of compensating. Similar to the entry made by Garn, Senn simply leapt off the top of the wall and absorbed the impact with the mass of her lower body.

 

Devoid of all subtlety, Dar ploughed straight through the wall, just as I thought he would. His immense scaly bulk battered through the weak points in the stone like a living siege engine. Nearly half Ushu’s size and roughly the same weight, Dar’s limbs made the ground shake with every step.

 

Qreet arrived last, swaddled in the dark robes of her adopted persona as the Lady of the Harvest. She made no effort to rush, but her long gait allowed her to match pace with Dar all the same. Incredibly long-limbed with an impossibly long neck, and thorn-like calcified protrusions, Qreet’s true appearance beneath her robes was quite strange.

 

The sudden appearance and arrival of the Daemons caught the Semenovians entirely by surprise, and for the first time, the guards drew their weapons.

 

“The Semenovians have no experience Conquering the Labyrinths,” I stated matter of factly, projecting my voice so the King and Queen would hear me. “And with my champions otherwise occupied, I must call upon you, my Daemons, to show them the way.”

 

Each of the Daemons, Gric included, puffed out their chests with pride and made a strange chorus of subdued clicking, chittering and hissing noises. With the notable exception of Dar, who exhaled deeply in barely contained excitement, sending fist-sized chunks of stone tumbling across the room.

 

I motioned for the Daemons to settle down as I prepared my thoughts. “I will entrust each of you with an Artefact for your safekeeping. However, because of the poor state of the Semenovians, I will issue a quest to recruit qualified volunteers for the Conquests. You will each recruit your forces from the pool of volunteers with an aggressive and sustained pace as the ideal goal. I will not tolerate the volunteers being treated as expendable, understood?”

 

“Understood, my Tyrant!” The Daemons replied in a staggered and profoundly enthusiastic chorus.

 

“Good,” I grunted approvingly as I conjured Shiverfang, Blackthorn, Stormcaller and Hexsurge from their resting place within Sanctuary’s treasury. “You may choose the Artefact you are most confident in safeguarding.”

 

Garn and Senn looked to Dar and Qreet to make their choices first.

 

Qreet considered the Artefacts carefully before lifting Blackthorn and adjusting its proportions to suit her preferences. Qreet then took Hexsurge and motioned for Sen and Garn to make their own choices. She and Gric tore a clean gash on the back of Dar’s right forearm and buried the brooch in his exposed flesh. The skin and scales resealed themselves within moments and left no trace of Hexsurge whatsoever.

 

Senn chose next, snatching up Shiverfang before Garn even had the chance to step forward. She immediately began experimenting with the length and thickness of the stave and blade. With four arms, Senn was capable of using the spear in ways that I simply couldn’t. However, I did have concerns that she might cut her own tail if she wasn’t careful.

 

Despite going last, Garn did not seem at all disappointed. Picking up Stormcaller, he made no attempts at increasing its size, seemingly content with its current dimensions. Both he and Dar had Artefacts that provided them with little real benefit, but there was still a chance that they might prove useful beyond the immediate needs of the Conquests.

 

Issuing the quest that would provide the volunteers, I took two of our prepared Empowered Beacons and handed one to Qreet and the other to Garn. As the most mobile of the four Daemons, they would be responsible for seizing the ground around the portals leading to the next floors, while Dar and Senn held the portals within the existing footholds.

 

The Empowered Beacons would allow Garn and Qreet to rush ahead of their troops and then call them in once they arrived at their intended destinations. Theoretically, it would save considerable amounts of time and allow both Conquests to maintain an incredibly aggressive pace.

 

The Asrusian record was close to a day and a half per floor. I was hoping that the Daemons could reduce that time to thirty hours or less.

 

Savva and Katia Semenov watched the proceedings with a combination of awe and terror. Although strange and fearsome to look upon, the Daemons were harmless unless provoked or under orders to be otherwise.

 

I motioned for the King and Queen to approach and had the Daemons move to one side.

 

“Yes, my Tyrant?” King Savva asked warily, imposing himself between the Daemons and his wife.

 

“You will need to make the guild sigils for the footholds available so the Daemons can work efficiently and independently of inference and observation,” I commanded. “Furthermore, the hall containing the entrance to the Labyrinth should be locked down and the highest security put in place to prevent unauthorised entry. The fewer distractions there are, the faster the Daemons will be able to secure the seed territories for your Faction. Understood?”

 

“Yes, I-we, understand,” King Savva replied anxiously while glancing furtively at the Daemons.

 

“The Daemons and volunteers will seize as much territory as they can from your former capital’s Labyrinth,” I informed the Semenovians while placing particular emphasis on the word former to make it clear that the city would ultimately be abandoned. “I strongly suggest that you clean house before contacting your allies. In the interests of expediency, Jayne and her fellow champions will assist as best they are able. However, I will not tolerate wanton murder. If it comes to violence, so be it, but I will not condone the use of force against those who surrender.”

 

King Semenov’s expression twisted into a grimace.

 

“My Tyrant,” Queen Katia interjected with a similarly conflicted and concerned expression on her face, “Allowing the traitors to flee could prove disastrous-”

 

“Then do not allow them to flee,” Gric stated coldly. “Taking and holding them prisoner should suffice. And before you claim not to have the means, I will spare us all the tedium of this vacuous back and forth by volunteering myself for the task.”

 

Queen Katia’s eyes widened in surprise, but it was unclear whether it was out of shock at the unforeseen boon, or fear that Gric had somehow read her mind.

 

“Only the deserving will die,” Gric promised with absolute surety. “Those whose guilt is lacking I will send to Tartarus.”

 

“Tartarus?” Despite his obvious hesitation, King Savva didn’t seem quite able to stop himself from asking.

 

“An inescapable prison,” Gric replied dismissively. As the seat of Sebet’s power, he disliked the place on general principle and wasn’t shy about saying so. Not that he minded the function one bit at all. I knew Gric would just strongly prefer Sebet not to have free run of the place.

 

“It’s where spies and would-be intruders go,” I elaborated while still leaving out Sebet’s role in administering the place.

 

“It’s used for outsiders then?” Queen Katia asked with visible relief.

 

I nodded and said nothing further on the matter.

 

Everything began moving very quickly after I opened a Breach and sent Jayne and the Semenovians back to their capital.

 

After conveying my instructions to her cousins and providing Clarice with reassurances on the proposed course of action, Jayne accompanied the now Prince Vadim to the Adventurers Guild building. Once the soldiers were removed from the Labyrinth and the foothold markers were deposited in the main hall, I opened another Breach and sent Senn, Garn, Qreet and Dar through to await their volunteers.

 

Using each Daemons list as a reference, I then used my authority to relocate the chosen volunteers to a single location before opening another Breach and sending them through.

 

With the Capital’s supply of food temporarily cut off, I decided to create another quest. While the quest was active, the participants would be rewarded for donating food.

 

After repairing the damage Dar had done to the faux throne room, I designated it as the quest stockpile location with the intention of having the food delivered at least once per day to stave off mass panic.

 

All the while, Lash’s projection remained at my side and we made plans for my eventual return home.

 

By remotely observing my champions, I learned that Nadine, Fesk and Ushu would be returning to Sanctuary via the Asrusian capital. However, Clarice, and by extension, Dhizi, would remain behind.

 

Short of kidnapping Clarice, I didn’t see a way to make her return. However, that didn’t mean I was just going to allow Dhizi to stick out like a sore thumb either. Like it or not, our actions were being observed, and who knew how many Confederate spies remained in and around the Semenovian capital.

 

Bracing myself, I summoned a projection of Clarice.

 

“I’m not coming back!” Clarice barked accusingly, “Not until I know for sure!”

 

“I know, and I am not telling you to come back,” I replied calmly, refusing to escalate the confrontation.

 

“You...You aren’t?” Clarice asked warily, evidently surprised by my response but also unwilling to fully trust that I was telling the truth.

 

“I’m not,” I repeated. “But I will strongly suggest that you send Dhizi home alongside Ushu,” I insisted firmly.

 

“Why?” Clarice scowled and folded her arms over her chest defiantly.

 

“I have a few reasons, actually,” I replied calmly. “Firstly, Dhizi will want to stretch her wings, and is liable to scare the crap out of any of the poor common folk or soldiers that spot her.”

 

“I guess...” Clarice admitted reluctantly.

 

“Secondly, the Confederate spies and scouts saw Dhizi flying north. If she doesn’t fly back, rumours will begin to circulate.” I held up a hand and motioned for Clarice to wait for my final point before speaking her piece. “Lastly, Dhizi is all alone out there, and I don’t like the idea that some undead remnant or Confederate vanguard could just ambush her!”

 

Clarice bit her lip in frustration but said nothing as she stared determinedly at the floor. “Fuck it, fine, you’re right!” Clarice snapped angrily, “I’ll have Dhizi go back with Nadine and the others...”

 

“Thank you,” I sighed gratefully, “It really is a load off of my mind.”

 

“Yeah whatever...” Clarice muttered irritably and self-terminated her projection.

 

“Are they alive?” Lash asked sombrely.

 

“...” I hesitated, brutal rationality warring against desperate yet rapidly fading optimism, “I don’t know for sure, but probably not,” I admitted bluntly only to hate myself for saying it aloud. It somehow made it more real.

 

“Better she has hope,” Lash commented, catching me off guard. Her harrowing experiences with the undead and the losses she had suffered led me to expect a more bleak and brutal preference for insisting upon the grim realities and not dragging out the suffering. “Hope is better than pain,” Lash insisted quietly as she sat herself down on my lap and rested her head against my chest.

 

I wrapped Lash in my arms and did my best to hold her tight without hurting her.

 

I regretted Summoning her projection and realised it had been a mistake...

 

Feeling terrible about dredging up her painful memories. I tried to think of words I could say to bring Lash some small measure of comfort. However, all I could manage was to hold her in silence until the mana within her projection ran out and she faded away.

 

Recent events would now integrate themselves into Lash’s mind, and what may have otherwise been a perfect day would now become tainted as the new memories asserted themselves. Knowing this, it made me feel like a real bastard.

 

I had to fight the urge to stop myself from Summoning another projection or outright moving Lash to my location. I wanted to explain myself, to apologise...However, without a plan, without knowing what I should say, I knew I would only make it worse.

 

Instead, I wrote a simple but sincere apology on the stone floor, with a promise to talk about it later. Separating the section of stone from the floor and forming a tablet, I used my authority to leave the tablet on our bed. Delivering the tablet directly to Lash might have alleviated a little of my guilt, but I didn’t want to force my apology onto her.

 

Remotely viewing Faine, Randle and Jayne, I found them travelling along a very nearly abandoned city street alongside a small elite squad of Semenovian soldiers.

 

At a glance, I was able to determine that they were no longer within the capital.

 

Gathering the majority of my mana, I remotely Summoned armoured projections of Gric and Sebet on a nearby rooftop. While Gric’s projection could pass as human with the armour serving as a ready disguise, Sebet’s projection had to use Sculpt Flesh to remove her wings and take on proper human proportions.

 

Sebet’s projection took a few moments to gain her bearings and then sped off across the rooftops and out of sight.

 

Meanwhile, Gric’s projection descended the roof with a casual superhero landing and joined my other champions, much to the surprise of the Semenovian soldiers.

 

Without a word of explanation, my champions continued toward the city centre.

 

More or less as I had expected, the soldiers patrolling the city were of an even lower recruitment standard and had far lower morale than those stationed within the capital. The soldiers stationed at key gateways and intersections demonstrated extreme incompetence and inexperience, allowing my champions and the elite soldiers to pass into the central district completely uncontested.

 

Just like the capital, many of the fortress estates were unguarded or even abandoned outright. However, the local Baron’s keep had hundreds of experienced soldiers stationed on its grounds and patrolling the nearby streets.

 

The already angry expressions of the loyalist soldiers soured at the sight.

 

No doubt, the Baron had overstated his losses to hold back so many soldiers for his own personal protection. Or perhaps hadn’t sent out his core forces in the first place.

 

It mattered little to Gric.

 

A Lieutenant posted at the gate took note of my champions’ approach and moved to intercept with twenty soldiers in tow. “Halt! Declare your bus-nsssszzzzz...” The Lieutenant collapsed in a convulsing fit, sending his soldiers into disarray.

 

Gric passed the soldiers without sparing the Lieutenant a further glance.

 

“Lieutenant!” More soldiers ran away from the gate to investigate what had happened. As they closed the distance, three soldiers collapsed onto the cobbled street as they began thrashing and convulsing uncontrollably.

 

Concentrating on Gric’s projection, I felt a wave of nausea as millions of images raced through my mind. All the while, I could hear Gric’s internal monologue as he passed and enacted judgement. <-Kill. Kill. Spare. Kill. Spare. Kill. Kill. Parole. Parole. Torture first, kill after. Spare. Spare. Spare. Spare. Spare.->

 

With the Baron’s soldiers in complete chaos, Gric continued through the outer gate unopposed and entered the grounds of the keep.

 

<Take. The. Baron. And high-ranking traitors alive. The Semenovian Faction will need to pass judgement.> At first, it was incredibly difficult to concentrate and form sentences. However, as Gric shifted his focus toward me instead, the flood of images melted away into the background and I was able to think more clearly.

 

<As-Kill-Spare-You-Spare-Spare-Kill-Command-Kill-Parole. My-Spare-Spare-Tyrant.> Despite having Gric’s focus, he had not stopped passing judgement on the Baron’s soldiers and officers.

 

With only the context from the few images still lingering in my mind, I felt no guilt over Gric’s actions.

 

<Locate the highest-ranking officer not corrupted by the Baron.> I ordered as I formed a new plan. <Order and the rule of law needs to be reinstated before the rot spreads any further.>

 

<Agreed. I will do your will.> Gric ceased passing judgement for several seconds as he made his reply and scanned the surrounding city. <There is a resistance, my Tyrant. Sebet is making contact now.> Gric then returned to purging the ranks of the corrupted soldiers by initiating thoroughly one-sided Contests of Will.

 

Remotely viewing Sebet, I found her stalking determinedly down a dark alleyway and toward a pair of large-looking men carrying truncheons.

 

One of the two men raised his free hand in warning, “Ha-lt...” His barking tone raised several octaves as Sebet pulsed her mana and effortlessly Charmed both him and his companion.

 

Sebet removed her helmet and allowed the long blond hair of her Euro-model persona to spill out into the night air. “Open the door, would you?” She purred seductively and tapped out a hasty rhythm on the armour covering her thigh. “I would speak with Colonel Olek, and Olek will definitely wish to speak with me. The night is brighter with Kusavo. If that helps,” Sebet added with a conspiratorial wink.

 

The two men nodded and one of them turned to the door.

 

One of the men knocked on the door with his truncheon several times in rapid succession, matching the rhythm Sebet had played moments before.

 

A viewing port in the door slid open and revealed the dark eyes of another man beyond.

 

“The night is brighter with Kusavo,” Sebet repeated, adding another conspiratorial wink for her own amusement.

 

The man on the other side of the door grunted unintelligibly and the viewing port slid shut.

 

There was a muted scraping and thumping noise from the other side of the door, and then the stone wall three feet to the left of the door silently swung open.

 

Not at all surprised, Sebet flashed a smile at the two men standing beside the door. She then made a point of smiling and waving nonchalantly at the four men lurking on the nearby rooftops who were following her movements with loaded crossbows. Sebet then calmly proceeded through the secret door and down a set of large wooden stairs, passing by several more large men. However, in stark contrast to those outside, the men in the underground passage were wearing the armour of Semenovian soldiers.

 

Sebet paid them little mind, only going so far as to deliberately exaggerate the swaying of her hips as she walked. I wasn’t sure when Sebet had done it, but at some point, she had pulled the concept of armoured heels from my mind. As thoroughly impractical as they would be for any human being, Sebet had modified the structure of her feet and ankles to make them work.

 

<Great One, with all due respect, they are not entirely impractical.> Sebet countered defensively. <Besides, I like them.>

 

After passing through the dark passage and a large heavy door, Sebet entered a small room dominated by a large desk. An older man with snow-white hair and a ragged beard stood behind the desk and calmly looked Sebet over.

 

“I don’t know you,” the man commented with absolute surety, narrowing his dark-ringed eyes with suspicion as he made a show of reaching for his sword.

 

Sebet smirked and eyed the sword with amusement. “I would be surprised if you did,” she replied evenly. “In the interests of the greater good, I will skip to the point.”

 

“Oh? Please do,” the man narrowed his eyes further and scowled at Sebet with mounting suspicion.

 

“Your liege lord, Baron Demetriov, has been accused of treason and will face execution for his crimes,” Sebet stated calmly, completely aware of the three large men closing in on her from behind, but deliberately ignoring them.

 

The old man raised his free hand slightly and motioned for the men to stop. “The Duke is sending men?” He asked warily.

 

“He already has,” Sebet replied, grinning unabashedly at the man’s surprise and confusion. “The Duke will arrive within the hour to pass judgement and see the execution carried out. All he asks is that you come out of retirement and bring order to the city.”

 

The old man stared intensely at Sebet while trying and ultimately failing to get a read on her.

 

Sebet shrugged and took a seat on the desk. “If you do not trust me, send one of your men to investigate the keep,” she suggested. “Or don’t,” Sebet shrugged. “Although, I suspect word will spread soon enough on its own, and chaos will follow shortly afterwards.”

 

The old man scowled and closed his eyes. “Damnit...” He cursed and looked at the men still gathered in the doorway.

 

“Oh, never mind, it seems like the news has arrived on its own,” Sebet observed cheerily as she looked past the three large men and toward the door.

 

Several long seconds passed by in tense silence.

 

The old man’s eye twitched. However, just as he was about to say something, a frantic series of knocks came on the door.

 

“Captain! Captain! Open up! The Duke has come to liberate the city!” A muffled voice exclaimed from the other side of the door.

 

The old man stared at the door briefly before circling his desk and slipping through the door.

 

Smiling to herself contentedly, Sebet absently tapped out a high-tempo rhythm on the crown of her helmet. <Great one, Gric is re-> Sebet’s telepathic communication was prematurely cut off.

 

<My Tyrant, I have gathered the traitors and await further instructions.> There was an unmistakable smugness in his mental energy that didn’t quite match the scale of his achievement, suggesting that cutting off Sebet’s link had been an entirely deliberate act.

 

Making a mental note to address their mounting rivalry later, I prepared myself for what would come next.

 

***** Savva ~ Semenov Duchy ~ Former Semenovian Duchy Capital *****

 

Sitting in his private chambers and stealing a moment to relax with his wife, King Savva gasped in surprise.

 

“My love?” Katia, his Queen, set down the sheaves of parchment she had been reading and looked at him with concern. “Is everyth-” Katia’s eyes widened and her voice caught in her throat.

 

“You...See them too?” Savva asked hoarsely before downing the contents of his goblet to help settle his nerves.

 

Pale as a sheet, Katia nodded. “You executed Baron Demetriov and both of his brothers...” She looked down at her hands which were both trembling violently. “We...We were in Sakrine city...I recognised the cathedral...”

 

“But we were here...” Savva actively began reviewing his memories of the past couple of hours and froze. “H-How?...” He distinctly recalled spending the majority of his time personally recruiting the most important and trusted members of his court in preparation for migrating his people. However, he could also recall a complete set of memories alongside them.

 

The second set of memories held just as much detail as the first and Savva knew on a primal level that they were genuine. Of course, Savva couldn’t accept that they were real.

 

“You sent Kuzma and his men with the Tyrant’s champions to Sakrine city,” Katia observed in a strained tone while clasping her hands together to stop them from shaking. “Kuzma can tell us what happened.”

 

Savva nodded and reached for the arms of his chair to help him rise to his feet. However, a polite knock came at the door before he could follow through.

 

“Majesty?” Gregori’s rough voice rumbled respectfully from the other side of the door.

 

“Enter!” Savva commanded, fighting hard to keep his voice even and under control.

 

Despite Kuzma being chosen to bring the traitors to justice, Gregori had made a point of wearing his full combat attire as a reminder of their current war footing. Of course, Savva strongly suspected it was actually more closely related to the handful of winters the old soldier still had to look forward to.

 

“Kuzma has reported a complete victory! Sakrine has been brought to heel! And a loyalist commander has been charged with holding the city!” Gregori’s large wispy moustache and beard quivered with patriotic zeal as he stiffly presented the written report for inspection.

 

“What of Baron Demetriov and the other traitors?” Katia asked determinedly.

 

“Publicly executed for their treason!” Gregori replied with warring sentiments of satisfaction and contempt.

 

Katia snatched the parchment and quickly scanned its contents.

 

Savva didn’t mind. As much as he wanted answers, he knew that Katia was a much faster reader and that she would let him know if there was anything important.

 

“I see that the report contains several corrections,” Katia observed shrewdly, “Alterations appear to have been made to conform with the King’s title.”

 

Gregori nodded dutifully, “Indeed, my Queen. The royal scribe was most insistent on this matter.”

 

Katia nodded in understanding.

 

Many of Savva’s retainers were in their late fifties or sixties, having been inherited from his parents and grandparents. Their long terms of service generated a great deal of loyalty, but it also made them quite particular regarding certain matters in their care.

 

“Can you confirm that these are the only changes made to the report?” Katia commanded, returning the parchment to Gregori while she did so.

 

“Of course! I shall see it done! Majesties!” Gregori made a painfully stiff bow and then practically ran out of the room in his eagerness to be of assistance.

 

“What did you find?” Savva asked warily, keenly aware that his wife would not have been so decisive without cause.

 

“The report stated that you ordered Baron Demetriov’s execution,” Katia repeated soberly.

 

Savva nodded and motioned for his wife to continue. He had already heard as much and failed to see the significance.

 

Katia shifted uncomfortably but forced herself to meet his eyes. “It went on to say that you, my dear husband, wielded the blade that slew him...”

 

Savva’s blood ran cold. “Then...It was all real...I-No! We! We were both!-” His manic energy stalled as another tide of memories flooded into his mind. Memories of another city, another execution.

 

“What is happening?...” Katia whispered, her hands gripping her dress so tightly they had turned as pale as fresh snow.

 

Savva wished he had the answer, but he was just as confused as she was. “It has to be something to do with the Tyrant,” Savva decided, following his instincts.

 

Katia stared at him for a few moments and then made an effort to calm herself by closing her eyes and taking several deep breaths. “We have no means of contacting the Tyrant directly...except...” Katia’s eyes flashed determinedly, “We need to speak with the Dragon rider, the one who stayed behind.” She took another deep calming breath and got to her feet, “We need to speak with Underlady Clarice!”

 

It took Savva a moment to place the name. However, Savva trusted his wife’s judgement and was already following her out the door before realising who it was they were going to see.

 

While she was not one of the Tyrant’s champions, the red-haired woman, Clarice, had been identified by the Tyrant as one of his closest companions and confidants. The argument could be made, and his wife had, that assisting Clarice in her search for her family was quite likely the Tyrant’s primary motivation in forming an alliance with Savva in the first place.

 

As an honoured guest, Clarice had been provided with the finest apartments within the keep. However, she had refused them and stubbornly insisted on remaining within the council chambers until the fate of her family was confirmed. Technically, she held the title and position of Underlord. Despite being the lowest ranked of the five titles that unlocked special Classes, an Underlord was not to be taken lightly or underestimated.

 

Entering the council chambers, they found the dark-skinned redhead pacing the far side of the room and muttering irritably to herself.

 

“Ahem, Underlady Clarice?” Katia led Savva into the room and he closed the door behind them.

 

Underlady Clarice made an unintelligible grunt in reply.

 

“We have questions, and we were hoping that you might provide us with answers,” Katia explained with effortless patience and politeness.

 

Underlady Clarice scowled back at Katia and glared at her for several long moments before looking away and snorting through her nose derisively. “Fine, whatever,” she muttered.

 

“Thank you, Underlady,” Katia paused for a moment as if gathering her thoughts. Savva had seen his wife feign such unpreparedness many times before and wasn’t at all surprised. “My husband and I, we have both experienced a strangeness that we otherwise cannot explain.”

 

Underlady Clarice raised one eyebrow in an exaggerated display of curiosity while continuing to scowl.

 

“We have memories, experiences, of being in two places at once,” Katia explained patiently with a hint of earnest concern.

 

“Oh, is that all,” Underlady Clarice snorted dismissively.

 

Katia smiled and made a point of eagerly taking a half step forward before stopping herself. “You know the cause?” She asked excitedly.

 

“Yeah, it happens whenever he Summons you somewhere,” Underlady Clarice replied with disinterest. “Your Summon passes along all of its memories when it dies or runs out of mana. It’s not a big deal, he does it all the time.”

 

Savva’s mouth felt bone dry. “S-Summons?” He croaked.

 

Underlady Clarice smirked at him, appearing to find his reaction amusing. “Yeah, he can Summon any of us, he has a special Ability for it.”

 

Katia grew faint but managed to support herself by taking hold of the back of a chair before Savva could react. “Why...Why would the Tyrant not ask to see us in person?”

 

Underlady Clarice shrugged, already losing interest in their conversation. “He probably finds it faster than going through the whole mess of sending messages and waiting for replies.” She paused and looked at them again. “You aren’t in any real danger if your projection gets hurt or dies, you know.”

 

“We shall bear that in mind,” Katia replied politely. “Many thanks, Underlady, you have given us much to consider.”

 

Underlady Clarice snorted derisively and rolled her eyes. She then proceeded to ignore them outright.

 

As they left the room, Savva shared a weighty look with his wife and could tell she was thinking more or less the same thing.

 

“This changes things,” Katia observed quietly.

 

Savva grunted in agreement, staggering slightly as more memories flooded into his mind.

 

“What is it?” Katia asked with concern.

 

“You...You didn’t?” Was all Savva could manage as he sought out the wall to help keep him upright.

 

“Not this time...” Katia shook her head and unceremoniously guided Savva toward his throne instead of the wall.

 

Settling into his throne, Savva was glad for his wife’s assistance. The latest memories were comparatively brief, but their contents were of far greater concern. “I just attended a meeting with the Tyrant and the Asrusian high command...The Confederates' advance forces have crossed the Yesinev River in the southeast...Their invasion has officially begun...”