Ogre Tyrant: Chapter 75 - The approaching storm - Part One

 

Settling the Oba clan into their new city was a relatively straightforward process. Just like the other refugees I had taken under my banner, they were highly motivated and wanted to settle in and establish a home for themselves as quickly as possible.

 

With the native beasts forcibly evicted and incapable of passing through the established boundary, the clan was free to explore the city. So it came as little surprise when the clan ultimately settled within a palatial estate that had no doubt once housed the family of the city lord or governor.

 

The grounds of the estate held large fields and gardens. However, the gardens were overgrown and the fields were empty.

 

Under Hana’s care, the fields took on new life. Providing a harvest of comparatively Chi-rich grains and vegetables that would serve as a foundation for the clan’s future self-sufficiency.

 

For my part, I erected several Energy Gathering Arrays around the estate and combined them into a singular Formation that would concentrate the effects into the fields and gardens. Drawing both Wood-aligned energy and unaligned energy, the Formation would serve as an experiment to determine the effects on both the plants as well as the Cultivators themselves.

 

While creating the Formation, I found myself staring at the mountain that had become Lurr’s new home.

 

I couldn’t shake the feeling that I hadn’t done enough on his behalf. However, short of forcing the Cultivators to trigger more Tribulations, I didn’t know what to do.

 

As my thoughts began to wander anew, I realised I had overlooked a specific tool that was uniquely suited to providing a certain measure of assistance.

 

Stormcaller.

 

The Artefact that had once belonged to the Liche and could manipulate the weather and enhance certain Spells.

 

I had entrusted the Artefact to Garn’s safekeeping, allowing the Daemon to Conquer additional territories on my behalf.

 

After completing the Formation, I relocated to Lurr’s mountain and after Summoning Garn’s projection, explained my intentions.

 

I wanted Garn to gather a thunderstorm above the mountain as a test to determine if the energy of the storm could be syphoned into the Arrays.

 

Garn would not be available for several hours but agreed to do as I asked once he returned to Sanctuary.

 

In preparation for Garn’s return, and fulfilling my promise to Lurr, I began experimenting with Teleportation Arrays and Formations.

 

I had witnessed several examples while remotely viewing Sebet within Yi Gim’s realm and had written instructions from a manual. However, even with these advantages, it took the better part of the day before I managed to create a stable connection.

 

Similar to Ril’s Gateways, the paired Formations could be powered externally by the traveller’s Chi or internally from a reservoir collected by an Array. Furthermore, while I could link the two Formations in an exclusive connection, I opted for an open but otherwise conditional connection instead. Provided the traveller had a token allowing access to their intended destination, they would be able to teleport to any Formation that was added to the network.

 

I had hoped that my Spatial Affinity would be able to play a role in the creation of the Teleportation Arrays. Unfortunately, I had no examples or instructions to draw from, and any attempts at explicitly including my Spatial-aligned Chi met with failure.

 

The worst of the experiments caused the Spatial Chi-infused jade of one Formation to violently implode while the other exploded, sending the material of both Formations skittering down the mountainside.

 

With a stable Teleportation Formation set in the Grove, and the other on top of Lurr’s mountain, Garn was the first to test the connection established between them.

 

Despite being utterly alien to the Cultivation system, Garn traversed the connection without any signs of difficulty.

 

“My Tyrant,” Garn chittered, jaw vibrating in excitement, causing his razor-sharp incisors to faintly scrape against one another and produce a small spray of sparks.

 

Lean to the point of emaciation, Garn was the exception to the Daemons' more literal pursuit of strength. However, his incredibly light frame, supported by powerful tendons, allowed Garn to traverse all manner of terrain without giving away his presence. Similarly, his minimalist form combined with his large bat-like wings allowed Garn to propel himself through the sky at great speeds while expending little energy.

 

Despite his differences, Garn was still a Daemon. Still a natural-born apex predator.

 

“There were no problems?” I asked, unable to keep the concern from my voice.

 

Garn vehemently shook his head, dark eyes gleaming from the shadowed recesses of their sockets. “No, my Tyrant! I am whole and healthy!”

 

I had to fight hard not to smirk. “I’m glad,” I admitted freely. “I had not expected any... complications...But I’m still thankful there weren’t any.”

 

Legs bent and back arched to keep himself low to the ground, Garn made a point of standing a little taller. “It is my pleasure to serve!” He insisted happily, beaming with appreciation. It didn’t bother him that I had placed him in a potential position of danger, only that I cared he had escaped unscathed.

 

Not for the first time, I had to remind myself that the Daemons weren’t dogs. As loyal as they were, there was a darkness in their souls, a host of barely restrained destructive impulses, that left the Daemons firmly entrenched on the human end of the spectrum.

 

“Even so,” I insisted, “I’m glad for your assistance.” I removed my magical cowl and passed it to Garn. “To boost your MP regeneration so that we can give the test the best chance at success.”

 

Garn graciously accepted the magic item without complaint, and after changing its size, carefully pulled it over his head and settled it on his shoulders.

 

I Summoned a generic projection of a furry Kobold and motioned for Garn to proceed.

 

Lurr watched our activities from his place beneath the peach tree but otherwise seemed content to remain an observer.

 

With Stormcaller clutched tightly in one clawed hand, Garn began gathering his MP.

 

I immediately felt a shift in the ambient energy atop the mountain. Through Garn, the Artefact was agitating the ambient energies from the surrounding area and drawing them toward the mountain.

 

Within less than a minute, dark storm clouds had begun gathering overhead and the strong smell of ozone filled the air.

 

I could feel the energy changing, aligning itself to the storm. It lacked the same concentration as the energy already present on the mountaintop. However, the volume was on an entirely different scale and increased with each passing moment.

 

Thunder-aligned energy was being drawn into the Formation, but not nearly fast enough to outpace the rate at which new Thunder-aligned energy was being made just beyond its boundaries.

 

To my surprise, small arcs of electricity began playing over the leaves and branches of the peach tree.

 

Extending my senses, I was even more surprised to find that the peach tree was actively drawing energy toward itself. The amount of energy was comparatively small, but I could feel it straining itself, desperately clawing at the energy around itself as if it were on the brink of starvation.

 

Leaving Garn’s side, I approached the tree and considered it more closely.

 

It was dying.

 

I wasn’t sure how I knew it, just that I did. Despite appearing at the peak of health, it was dying.

 

Resting my hand against the trunk of the tree, I could feel its intangible presence pulling at my spirit, pulling at the energy in my veins.

 

Resisting the urge to pull away, I settled into the steady rhythm of my breathing Technique and began releasing the energy it craved in a small steady stream.

 

Even with my assistance, I only became more aware of the tree’s approaching demise. However, there was something else as well, a second presence that was slowly taking shape in the tree’s branches.

 

Looking at the branches, I watched as a small bud slowly took shape into a fruit and began to swell.

 

Smouldering leaves began falling in droves and the tree’s branches began to blacken, wither and burn.

 

The tree’s desperation suddenly increased several-fold and I felt it pulling at my soul with frenzied vigour. However, despite all its efforts, it lacked the strength or perhaps the means to do anything without my consent.

 

Against my better judgement, I allowed the tree to draw not only on my Chi but my internal energy as well.

 

Despite my internal energy being replenished nearly as fast as it was drained, the draining itself was accompanied by a small degree of pain throughout my entire body. The pain didn’t decrease with time but it didn’t increase either. I resolved to cut off the connection if the pain increased further, reasonably certain that the pain indicated a certain degree of risk for a danger I was otherwise unaware of.

 

Persisting through the pain, I felt a feeling of what I could only interpret as gratitude emanating from the tree.

 

Then, without warning, it died.

 

I felt its spirit collapse beneath my touch and felt the bark of the tree crumble against my fingers.

 

As if it had rotted from the inside out, its limbs and trunk began to crack and splinter.

 

Reaching out my hand, I gently cradled the solitary peach in my palm.

 

The remainder of the tree fell to the ground shortly afterwards, leaving nothing but a ragged crumbling stump to mark its passing.

 

A part of me insisted that I should feel something in response to what had happened. The tree had been alive, in its own way. Now, all that remained was an empty husk and the watermelon-sized peach cradled in my palm.

 

Lurr knelt beside the stump and bowed his head.

 

Thunder rumbled ominously overhead and heavy rain began to fall.

 

Several minutes passed before I realised I was cradling the peach protectively against my chest, shielding it from the storm. There was something about the action that just seemed...right...Like I was acting on protective instincts from the primitive recesses of my brain.

 

Even without extending my senses, I could feel a spirit-stirring within the peach, similar yet distinct from the spirit I had sensed within the tree. Stranger still, I could sense small traces of mana circulating alongside the Affinity-aligned energies.

 

Unlike the hybrid plants scattered about the mountaintop, the two energies moved in harmony with one another, instead of competition. A phenomenon that I had only witnessed within myself and my children.

 

Uncertain how long I had been standing in the rain, I was drawn from my thoughts as I felt the energies within the peach begin to stir. Synchronising with the swelling energies within, the flesh of the peach moved beneath my fingers and I could feel something taking shape inside.

 

After what felt like the better part of an hour, the skin of the peach tore apart along its seam. However, instead of exposing the creamy orange-pink flesh I had expected, I found a small girl of about six or seven lying in my palm instead.

 

Clothed in a short robe that matched the skin and flesh of a peach, the small girl had short pink hair and pale skin. Except for her hair, she looked human. Just by looking at her, I was surprised to find that I knew her name.

 

Momoko.

 

The ramifications of that particular fact struck me harder than all the strangeness I had witnessed thus far. This was because there was only one explanation for how I could know the child’s name without her being recruited as a subject.

 

She was my daughter.

 

Momoka was as much my child as Pete and Suzy. At least, so far as the system was concerned.

 

Sure enough, I found Momoka’s name had joined the twins on my Status.

 

Hundreds of thoughts began flying through my mind, each competing for prime of place and my undivided attention. Subsequently ensuring that none of them received more than a few moments of my time before another took its place.

 

“Is child?” Lurr’s surprised exclamation gave me a few moments of peace as my mind was forced to shift mental gears.

 

“Her name is Momoka,” I replied, somewhat automatically.

 

Lurr nodded, scrunched his wrinkled brow, looked at Momoka for a few moments and then up at me. “Is Tyrant’s daughter?”

 

The old warrior’s intuition caught me momentarily off guard. “She is,” I answered truthfully, knowing that lying not only wouldn’t work for any meaningful amount of time but wouldn’t serve much purpose either.

 

Lurr relaxed and nodded to himself, seemingly content with my answer. He looked at the child with the same gentle warmth all the Variants used when dealing with children. Species didn’t really matter to them. Which may in part be related to Evolution occasionally diverging a son or daughter from their parents’ Species.

 

I could only hope Lash would be nearly so accommodating...

 

Adopting Eg was one thing, but accepting Momoka would be something else entirely. Eg was a parentless orphan and would be a companion to Pete and Suzy. Momoka was...I was rankled at the thought of identifying her as a bastard, but I couldn’t think of another word that fits the general circumstance.

 

The system had determined that Momoka was my daughter. My daughter, not mine and Lash’. By definition, it made her a bastard.

 

Lash had, initially, expected and even somewhat encouraged the pursuit of secondary wives. At the time, I had, rather bluntly, insisted I was monogamous and had no intentions of seeking another wife. Nothing had changed since then, but Momoka’s existence would give Lash more than ample cause to doubt me.

 

Still unsure what exactly had happened, I wouldn’t blame her if she did.

 

Returning to Sanctuary, I explained things as best I could to Lash. All the while cradling Momoka’s sleeping form against my bare chest.

 

“I believe you,” Lash stated confidently, taking me entirely by surprise.

 

“You do? Why?” I asked, unable to stop myself.

 

Lash considered me for a moment, her amethyst eyes staring into my soul. “You lie badly,” she replied matter of factly, smiling slightly to herself in amusement.

 

“That...That’s probably true,” I admitted, keenly aware that I had never given it much practice.

 

“Her name is...Mo-mo-kay?” Lash uncertainly sounded out the name one syllable at a time.

 

“Close,” I replied supportively, offering Lash the opportunity to hold Momoka and take a closer look at her. “I am reasonably certain it's pronounced, Momoka.”

 

“Momoka,” Lash repeated, earning a muted mumble from the small girl pressed against her breast. Smiling down at Momoka with maternal grace, Lash gently rocked her into a deeper sleep.

 

Saying the name aloud, and hearing it several more times besides, made me realise something that made me feel profoundly uncomfortable. Momoka didn’t sound Chinese or Korean. It sounded Japanese.

 

Given Hana’s involvement on the mountain, specifically with the peach tree, I felt all but certain what I would find if I were to check her Status.

 

Before I could work up the nerve, Hana awkwardly invited herself into our home. “Tim? Do you have a moment? There’s something-oh!...” She blinked in surprise, her emerald green eyes firmly focused on Momoka.

 

“She hatched from a peach,” I said calmly as if it explained everything and wasn’t at all absurd.

 

“Oh...” Hana eyed Lash nervously, “Do you mind if I?...” She held out her hands and nodded toward Momoka.

 

Lash sighed with visible disappointment and reluctantly passed the small girl into Hana’s waiting arms.

 

Hana’s face glowed with understated happiness as she cradled Momoka in her arms. “I didn’t think I would feel like this, holding her I mean...” She blushed with embarrassment but it passed quickly as she looked down at the slumbering child in her arms.

 

“I don’t suppose you know how this happened?” I asked, already certain that I would be disappointed.

 

Hana shrugged unhelpfully. “What exactly happened?”

 

I explained events as best as I could remember them, making sure not to leave anything out.

 

Hana appeared just as confused as I was. “I don’t understand either...” She admitted somewhat shyly. “But there is a chance that you may have further altered the tree...But the Spirit you said was inside the tree-”

 

“It wasn’t a Spirit kind of spirit,” I interjected, “It was...something else...like a soul...”

 

“Couldn’t it have been a Spirit from the other system?” Hana asked.

 

“Maybe...” I agreed somewhat hesitantly. “I haven’t met any others, so I don’t have a frame of reference to work with.”

 

Hana frowned in obvious confusion and glanced down at Momoka, her suspicions obvious.

 

“It felt similar,” I admitted, after giving it some thought and reflecting on what had happened.

 

Our conversation was interrupted as Nadine stiffly invited herself in. “Tim? There’s something you need to come and see,” she insisted anxiously.

 

“What’s wrong?” I asked, already moving toward the door.

 

“It’s...hem...somewhat private?” Nadine's pale cheeks flushed slightly in embarrassment.

 

After leaving the tunnel, I began walking toward Nadine and Fesk’s home.

“Ah, it’s not us!” Nadine called out as she jogged to catch up.

 

I stopped mid-stride and looked back at Nadine in confusion.

 

“It’s Clarice and Sebet...” Nadine hissed, shielding her mouth from view despite our relative isolation.

 

With a single thought, I relocated us both to Sebet’s tower.

 

“And I’m assuming that I am not going to like whatever it is I am walking into?” I asked, already sending out my senses and locking onto Sebet’s position. As a powerful Devil, she shone like a beacon despite her lack of Chi.

 

Before Nadine could reply, I relocated us both to Sebet’s location.

 

Firmly closing my eyes, I tried to push the images of Clarice’s compromising position from my mind. It was a feat made all the more difficult due to the assorted bindings and esoteric objects I had to remove by using my authority.

 

Despite her nakedness, and the compromising position I had found her in, Clarice showed no signs of embarrassment as she raced across the room. Vaulting over modified chairs, tables and several articles of furniture that were affixed with exotic paraphernalia that my mind couldn’t ignore or reclassify as anything beyond their obvious carnal purposes.

 

Sebet lay unconscious on the floor in her true form, clad in a strange outfit made of thin leather belts and buckles, a riding crop and something...abandoned at her sides.

 

“She just cried out and fell!” Clarice exclaimed anxiously, hurriedly unbuckling the belts and buckles around Sebet’s neck and chest.

 

Despite her embarrassment, Nadine was close behind her.

 

“She hasn’t lost any HP, and there is nothing noteworthy in her Status,” I announced for Nadine’s benefit. “Is it possible that, whatever you two were doing, may have caused enough stress to cause her to faint?”

 

“No,” Clarice replied firmly, “We weren’t doing anything yet.” She ran her fingers anxiously through her short red hair and I couldn’t help but notice how badly she was shaking. “She said something about an ambush and then...then she just fell...”

 

“An ambush?” My eyes drifted to Sebet’s face and something in my mind clicked.

 

Casting my consciousness to remotely observe Sebet’s clones, I found nothing. They were gone.

 

“I know what knocked Sebet out,” I announced grimly, too overcome by considering the implications to care about Clarice’s state of undress. “Her clones, the Empowered Summons, are dead. Their collective memories were probably too much to handle...” Clarice’s sincere concern was unsettling, but it also made me feel more than a little guilty. Whatever Clarice and Sebet’s relationship was, it mattered to her. “Sebet will be fine...She just needs to process all the memories,” I explained in as comforting a tone as I could manage.

 

Clarice nodded quietly and remained by Sebet’s side, worriedly working at the remaining straps and buckles.

 

I caught Nadine’s eye and nodded toward the far side of the room, intending to afford Clarice a certain degree of privacy.

 

Nadine whispered some encouraging words to Clarice and then followed me across the room.

 

“How did you know Clarice needed help?” I asked bluntly, “And why did you need my help?”

 

Nadine’s cheeks blushed and she remained silent for several moments. “Clarice and I were going to go shopping in one of the markets. I went looking for her when she didn’t meet me at the appointed place...” The blush left her cheeks and Nadine worried at the hem of her tunic, “I went looking for Clarice and heard her calling out from the crack under the door-” She pointed to the floor beneath the only door in or out of the room. “I tried opening the door, but it’s locked...”

 

“And since Sebet and Clarice are probably the only ones with keys...” I guessed and nodded my head in understanding.

 

“I hope you don’t mind?” Nadine asked nervously. “I mean, we haven’t exactly spoken much recently...” She explained anxiously, “Not that I haven’t wanted to!” Nadine added hastily, “It’s just, that Fesk and I have been busy, and Clarice has her own thing going on as well...”

 

“It’s fine, I get it,” I sighed. “I’ve been busy as well, but I probably could have made more of an effort...It’s just, there is always something demanding my attention. Something that needs doing. And on the rare occasion there isn’t, I just feel like I should be spending it with Lash and my kids, you know?”

 

Nadine nodded in understanding, “I don’t think anyone could blame you for feeling that way.” She looked back toward Sebet and Clarice and then grew sombre. “Even busier now, I don’t doubt.”

 

“Probably,” I agreed, unwilling to commit to anything further without receiving an explanation from Sebet.

 

A long silence passed between us.

 

“Tim, have you given any thought to when you are going to begin the Humans’ Mothers Moon?” Nadine asked somewhat awkwardly. It caught me off guard by the change in topic.

 

“I have...” I stalled while shifting mental gears. “I wanted to inform and educate the Human population first. Let them know about what to expect and how to plan around it. But I kept getting busy...”

 

“I could take responsibility for it,” Nadine volunteered eagerly. “You wouldn’t need to give me a title or anything, most of the nobility already know we’re friends.”

 

“What do you plan to do?” I asked warily, “Go village to village and town to town giving sex-ed classes?”

 

Nadine’s cheeks flushed slightly in response, but she determinedly held her gaze. “If I have to, but I think it would be more efficient to just invite all the lords and ladies and explain things in one go. Jacque wasn’t shy about letting Lash know how many Asrusians have made subtle inquiries, and the Semenovian Queen was rather blunt in asking Lash about it as well...”

 

“So you want to host a sort of sex-ed symposium?” I knew I was being somewhat facetious, but it wasn’t a bad idea.

 

Theoretically, the nobility would pass information along to their respective subjects. After all, they had a vested interest in not only maintaining the numbers of their subjects but also increasing them. The more subjects they had, the more promotions that would be available. More subjects would also allow those who had an Underlord or higher title to receive more Exp to assign as quest rewards.

 

The fact that the latter benefits wouldn’t manifest for quite some time wouldn’t matter. The majority of the established nobility had proven they had a penchant for taking the long view on most issues, or at least investigating the benefits of doing so.

 

“You should do that,” I decided. “Send invitations in my name if you need to, and you can take what you need from the treasury to pay for it all.”

 

Nadine nodded eagerly, “Alright, but where should I host the gathering? You probably don’t want them in Sanctuary, right?”

 

“The city hall in Port Gidian, or any of the major cities would probably serve your needs,” I suggested, ignoring the sore subject of Humans visiting Sanctuary in large numbers. “The Dwergi would probably be more than happy to host the event if you don’t want to be worried about being seen playing favourites.”

 

“Playing favourites?” Nadine asked nervously, frowning slightly as she considered things. “You’re right, maybe approaching the Dwergi would be for the best...They do have a Gateway. Which would make it just as easy for most nobles to attend...”

 

“They could make a conference hall to fit your needs at short notice as well,” I added. “Earth Mages make things convenient like that.”

 

“I suppose they would,” Nadine smiled briefly but it faded as she glanced at Clarice from the corner of her eye. “Do you really think Sebet will be alright?” She asked quietly.

 

I nodded slowly, confident in my instincts. At least in this particular instance. “If Sebet doesn’t wake up on her own, I’ll have Gric or one of the other Daemons help her. I haven’t experienced the effects of the memory overlap, but I strongly suspect Sebet’s special Coven Ability is working against her, multiplying the number of memories...” It was the only explanation I could think of and it seemed right when I spoke it aloud.

 

Nadine shifted uncomfortably for a few moments, nodded, and then moved back to Clarice’s side. Offering whispered words of comfort. Conjuring a blanket from Sanctuary’s storage, I joined them a few moments later, draping the rough cloth over Clarice’s bare shoulders before sitting on the floor more or less beside her.

 

Closer to her eye level, I could see just how scared Clarice was. Holding Sebet’s limp hand so tightly that black ichor dribbled down from the Devil’s palm and down her arm,

 

Unable to bear seeing Clarice in such distress, I exercised my authority and ‘requested’ Gric’s presence.

 

As a vessel for a small portion of my authority, I was able to give Gric the choice to refuse the call. Not that I expected he would. I just intended to provide him the opportunity to settle whatever he may be doing before accepting. With so many of my friends and closest allies in committed relationships, there was an increasingly high risk of interrupting something or calling upon them at an inopportune time. It was one of the primary reasons I preferred Summoning copies of them instead. However, it seemed inappropriate to do so now, given the cause of Sebet’s current condition.

 

Several minutes later, Gric accepted the request. Standing only a few feet away from Sebet, he stared down at her unconscious form coldly. “She is trapped within herself,” Gric commented indifferently, “Such incompetence...” He muttered disdainfully.

 

Clarice stared at Gric incredulously, hurt swelling in her eyes.

 

Gric shifted uncomfortably. “I am sorry...” He apologised, surprising us all with his unexpected and unsolicited expression of remorse and demonstration of rudimentary empathy.

 

I knew that Gric was not deliberately cruel by nature. It was not because I believed Gric was misunderstood and had a warm fuzzy heart under his gruff exterior. Far from it. I knew that Gric viewed cruelty for its own sake as woefully inefficient and a waste of his time. However, I had believed Gric held similar views toward overt displays of compassion and remorse...

 

It was strange to witness evidence to the contrary, and I had to wonder if Gric’s relationship with Talia had borne entirely unexpected fruit.

 

If I was honest with myself, I had initially suspected Gric had begun his relationship with the Elf for more ‘primal’ and entirely utilitarian reasons. Later, I learned that Gric was trying to better understand people, and I had not given the matter much further thought until he had left Sanctuary to seek out Talia’s people.

 

Even so, I hadn’t expected Gric’s nascent empathy to extend any further. Much less toward Clarice.

 

Not because Clarice had done anything to earn his ire, not really anyway. But I had expected her association with Sebet to warrant a form of inherited enmity.

 

It was then that I realised how much of an idiot I was being. If I was the Daemons’ father, then Clarice, Nadine and even Emelia could be considered their mothers. We had fed them, clothed them, and cared for them as hatchlings. As short a time as that had been, the Daemons looked up to us with near-fanatical devotion.

 

Earning Clarice’s disapproval, and worse, her disappointment, it was little wonder even Gric had seen fit to apologise.

 

Without saying another word, Gric stared coldly at Sebet’s face and his dark eyes grew ever so slightly unfocused.

 

Several moments passed in silence.

 

“This will take a while...” Gric grunted unhappily, “She had confused herselves and become...entangled...” He looked away from Sebet and fixed me with an intense stare. “There is something else, my Tyrant. She appears to have uncovered something important...” Gric’s eyes grew unfocused again, but he didn’t look away. “There is a conspiracy, a reason why they are seizing the Ogres and won’t let them go...” His brow furrowed in frustration and his lips slowly curled into a snarl. “They....They are taken to the biggest city...the capital, taken somewhere...” Gric shook his head and hissed in annoyance, “She is being most unhelpful,” he scowled at Sebet with open disdain, deliberately avoiding looking at Clarice as he did so.

 

“You are talking about the Aldmeri Dominion?” I pressed, throwing off my initial unbalance.

 

Gric nodded in the affirmative. “I cannot yet be certain, but it appears that these humans make no distinction between adults and children. All are taken to the city and later are put to work...She made no indication as to why this is so...and the information was taken from another shortly before the copy was terminated...”

 

“So it could just be a rumour then?” I asked, trying to suppress my disappointment. It was a blow to go so long without an answer only to learn that it wasn’t any more solid than a bank of sand in a storm.

 

A fraction of my own disappointment was reflected in Gric’s eyes. Despite literally being nothing besides the messenger, passing along information on Sebet’s behalf no less, he was taking my disappointment personally.

 

***** Albert ~ Bastien’s Demi-Plane ~ Gate of Triumph *****

 

Standing atop a concrete fortification, Albert felt a familiar thrill of excitement run up his spine, he had visited this site often since coming of age five years prior. Having served the duration of his mandatory enlistment with distinction, Albert was no longer a conscript and now held an officer's commission of Captain in the Seventh Legion.

 

Despite sharing the blood of the first Emperor himself, Albert chose not to take banishment to the Seventh Legion as a punishment, but as an opportunity. With only a relative handful of truebloods to compete against for glory and prestige, Albert’s accomplishments would stand out all the brighter.

 

Climbing down the ladder on the side of the bunker and into the trenches, Albert acknowledged the stiff salutes of the line troopers with a firm nod. Despite their status as thinbloods, Albert knew better than to disrespect them without cause. Not only would such reckless callousness damage morale, but it was dangerous to an officer’s chances of survival.

 

Officers who went out of their way to insult and deride the thinbloods had a long-standing history of falling on their swords or becoming isolated in the heat of battle.

 

Just because the thinbloods shared a single face, did not mean that they were stupid. There were several documented cases of troopers using this trait to their advantage. Exacting revenge and then changing uniform and identification tags with another trooper that had fallen in a previous skirmish or raid deeper in the Labyrinth.

 

“Six! Eleven!” Albert called out and raised his left hand above the trench line to signal his location.

 

Several moments later, two troopers in heavy overcoats, iron cuirass and helmets fell into step beside him.

 

“Are the men ready?” Albert asked without breaking stride, calculating each step to land on a wooden sleeper instead of the mud at every available opportunity.

 

“Ready and eager, sir,” Six replied, his deep crimson face splitting into a sharp-toothed smile.

 

“We issued extra rations, just as you said, sir,” Eleven added, mirroring Six’s approval.

 

“Good,” Albert replied with immense satisfaction. “While we do not have the honour of serving as the tip of the spear, maintaining high morale will be crucial to ensuring we gather as many merits as possible.”

 

Six and Eleven nodded obediently in agreement. As thinbloods, they both knew that Albert was their best hope for advancement and a retirement worth fighting for. If they accumulated enough commendations they would earn full citizenship and the right to seek out a Mate.

 

“Good,” Albert repeated, this time to himself. He had groomed Six and Eleven for the better part of two years, all in anticipation of this opportunity.

 

Albert’s father had died serving in the Fifth Legion after his troopers broke ranks, fleeing the field and leaving him for dead with a broken leg. Torn to pieces and devoured by the wild Beasts of the frontier, there hadn’t been anything left to burn at his funeral.

 

It was a lesson Albert had taken to heart. While on the campaign, he would not only need people to watch his back but also people who would be strongly motivated to ensure his continued survival.

 

As his official bodyguards, Six and Eleven held just the right amount of ambition to fulfil Albert’s needs.

 

After returning to his quarters, Albert waved toward a long shallow straw-filled crate by the wall. “There is something special for the both of you in there,” he commented distractedly while giving his sabre a final inspection before sheathing it and attaching the scabbard to his belt.

 

As an officer, there was an established tradition that required Albert to carry a sabre. Even if he never chose to make use of it, he still needed to keep it in good condition. A superior could call for a surprise inspection and use poor maintenance of equipment as an excuse to justify a request for demotion.

 

Albert knew better than to give any potential detractors such an opportunity.

 

Placing his rifle on the table, Albert gave it the same meticulous care he had afforded to the sabre.

 

While cleaning the bore, Albert couldn’t help but wonder at the first Emperor’s genius. Before the Emperor united the tribes under his rule, the humans had taken from them at will. However, the early rifles created by the first Emperor had changed things.

 

With fire and blood, the first Emperor drove the humans from the tribes’ lands and took his throne. The Felix Seven, so named after the first Emperor and seventh iteration of its line, was now the standard armament of troopers and officers alike. Far stronger and more accurate than the primitive weaponry of the humans, the Felix Seven could reliably hit targets fifteen hundred feet away and inflict grievous injury.

 

Briefly glancing at the pair of short-barrelled Bastien Ones’, named for the current Emperor, now in the admiring hands of Six and Eleven, Albert felt another surge of pride. Lacking the range of the Felix Seven, the Bastien One was only effective out to a range of ten feet. However, it ripped foot-wide holes in any target within that ten feet, felling even the strongest Beasts if a trooper had the nerve and state of mind to hold his ground and fire at point-blank range.

 

Sitting cross-legged on the floor, Six and Eleven gleefully began taking the Bastien Ones apart and meticulously cleaning their firing mechanisms.

 

Albert had considered requesting a Bastien One for himself, but he had ultimately decided against it. Securing just two of the cutting-edge weapons had cost him many favours, a third would have left him without recourse against his rivals.

 

Besides, Albert preferred the greater utility afforded by the Felix Seven. Even Six and Eleven would be required to carry a Felix in addition to the Bastien. Not that they would begrudge the extra weight and general encumbrance.

 

Once finished attending to his equipment, Albert spared a few minutes to review his latest orders. Finding no contradictions with his existing order, he burned the papers in the brazier by his desk and then tied his shoulder-length hair back into a tight tail before donning his helmet.

 

Reviewing his appearance in the small mirror fitted onto the wall, Albert’s focus was immediately drawn to his deep blue skin and eyes. They were the most obvious indicators of his status as a trueblooded descendent of the first Emperor. Thickbloods had varying shades of mauve and even burgundy skin and eyes, but never the deep rich blue unique to the truebloods.

 

One of the things Albert appreciated about the helmet was how it protected his ears from view. Only the size of his first two fingers, his ears were considered small by the standards of his people, and Albert had long since grown tired of the jibes of his rivals. Inherited from his mother, they were thankfully offset by the strong flat nose Albert had inherited from his father.

 

With his ears hidden from view, Albert believed he cut quite the heroic figure. Even if he did say so himself.

 

Leading Six and Eleven out to the mustering grounds, Albert took his place ahead of his men. With two hundred troopers in all, including ten thickblood Sergeants who reported directly to Albert himself, the force was dwarfed by the greater ranks of the legion itself.

 

Numbering in the tens of thousands, the Seventh Legion had a single mandate from the Emperor. To pass through the portal, take the fight to the humans on the other side and then fortify the land surrounding the other side of the portal.

 

Standing at attention, Albert watched as the general of the Seventh Legion climbed the ceremonial steps that had been assembled before the portal. With one smooth motion, the general drew his sabre and levelled it towards the portal. “For the Emperor! CHARGE!”

 

A mighty cry rose from the legion and a thousand men marched in lockstep towards the portal. When they came within the final hundred feet, they broke into a run and rushed through the portal.

 

On cue, Albert signalled his men forward as other Captains did the same.

 

Passing through the portal, Albert found himself in a large stone courtyard flanked on all sides by high stone walls pockmarked by rifle fire and adorned with bleeding corpses.

 

The gate on the far end of the courtyard had already been blown apart by a specially prepared explosive. A bunker buster, as the Troopers called them. Paying homage to the notorious mishandling of such an explosive that blew apart a munitions bunker more than three decades prior.

 

Gunfire rattled from beyond the walls and several large bells rang ominously in the distance.

 

Ignoring the dead troopers scattered around the courtyard, Albert led his men forward and through the gate.

 

After passing through several more specially prepared human fortifications, Albert and his men now stood on the streets of the human city itself.

 

Humans and thinblood troopers lay dead and bleeding out in the streets. The humans’ armour was no match for the troopers' rifles, but a human with enough levels could still manage to inflict a fatal injury if given the opportunity to do so.

 

“SIR!” Six called in alarm grabbing Albert by the arm and pulling him back just in time for an arrow to thrum past Albert’s face and splinter against the cobbled street.

 

Several rifles fired in a staggered retort and a bloody human corpse tumbled from a nearby rooftop, striking the ground with a wet crunch.

 

Four troopers rushed forward and stabbed the mangled body with their bayonets, although it was unclear whether it was out of bloodlust or caution.

 

Nodding to Six in thanks, Albert drew his sabre and pointed toward the left fork in the road ahead of them. “Forward!” He barked, ordering the troopers forward.

 

Troopers surged past Albert and began charging down the road, rifles raised and scanning the surrounding rooftops.

 

Following behind his men, Albert watched as time and again, the humans would throw themselves the oncoming tide of troopers. The overwhelming majority died without accomplishing anything besides depleting the troopers' stores of ammunition.

 

The strategy made little sense until Albert realised there were very few females amongst the humans’ dead, and he had seen no signs of their children whatsoever.

 

Now that he had noticed this, Albert realised that the humans were throwing themselves at the troopers with the sole intention of slowing the legion’s advance.

 

In all his years fighting the humans, Albert had never seen anything like it. The humans had always been so selfish and cowardly, fleeing the field and leaving their wounded for dead.

 

It didn’t make sense.

 

Why were they behaving so differently now?

 

Albert could understand the drive to preserve the children. He wasn’t a thinblood. But why were the females abandoning their Mates to die? Surely more of them would have lingered to buy more time for the children to escape?

 

Distracted to a dangerous degree by his troubled thoughts, Albert forced himself to focus on his immediate surroundings.

 

From the corner of his eye, Albert spotted movement in the space between the nearby buildings.

 

Waving Six and Eleven forward, Albert held his sabre at the ready.

 

Six and Eleven slung their rifles over their shoulders and changed to the Felix which was better suited for a close-quarters confrontation.

 

A human child with torn pants and sandy hair stumbled out from its hiding place. The child, no more than a few feet tall, stared at Albert with haunted eyes. Hands covered in blood and with bloody streaks on its cheeks, the child bore no signs of personal injury. However, looking past the child, Albert saw a human female sprawled out on the ground, her clothes soaked with blood.

 

Tears streaming from its eyes, the human child screamed and revealed a small knife that had been hidden behind its back.

 

Before the child could so much as take a step...

 

Before Albert could order them to stop...

 

Six and Eleven levelled their weapons and fired.

 

The child’s right arm and most of its torso evaporated into red mist, killing it instantly.

 

Staring down at the child’s mutilated body, Albert felt an irrepressible surge of revulsion and anger. “Why did you do that?!” He demanded.

 

Six and Eleven glanced warily at one another in confusion.

 

“The human was carrying a weapon,” Six replied evenly, not the least affected by what he had done.

 

“The human was going to attack you,” Eleven agreed, just as matter-of-factly.

 

“It was a child...” Albert countered hoarsely, struggling to suppress the bile rising in his throat.

 

Six and Eleven both shrugged indifferently and Albert felt a cold chill run down his spine as he came to appreciate just how great their differences were and why the Seventh Legion had been chosen for this ‘honour’.