A Tyrant, Sort Of

There were two key Rustspike cities Sable needed to secure in preparation for the encroaching Nightshade and Stonegrin forces: Verindale and Aurumreach.

Both were cities close enough to be key invasion targets by their opponents, and also large and significant enough that they’d give a real foothold in the surrounding area—at least by the standards of goblin warfare. Obviously, hunkered down in a city or not, Sable would be able to demolish the defenses of wherever she visited. But her goal was long-term success, and Rustspike was in an especially poor situation: she needed it taken over and guarded by the Bonecrackers as soon as possible, preferably before an actual territory war broke out.

The Stonegrins and Nightshades had gathered forces and were certainly poised to make their own claims to land, but Sable wanted to squash relevant opposition before the fighting truly started. True warfare would make things trickier.

To better facilitate Sable and her squad of Skatikk elite being moved around the Red Plains, the craftsman of Skatikk had constructed a transport. The structure was easily grabbable with two claws, and even seemed to be designed to grow to accommodate if need be, though was rather crude looking. A rushed-together collection of wood and iron nails, it resembled a flying wooden cage with sixteen cramped seats. It came with bars to hold onto and straps for each of the passengers.

Despite looking nearly shoddy, she had been assured the transport had been built with sturdiness in mind—a practical creation, even if it wasn’t an aesthetic one. The wooden cage could even handle direct attacks from enemy high-level classed, which was good, because it would be rather awkward if her goblin cargo went spilling out. Even at her speed, Sable wasn’t sure if she’d been able to save everyone if that happened.

The transport had been somewhat expensive to build. Reinforcing a structure to withstand high-level attacks wasn’t cheap. And while Skatikk wasn’t a destitute city, the Red Plains simply wasn’t a land of overabundance and flowing power, either. Hence Sable’s relatively straightforward conquering of it so far. Easy pickings meant smaller rewards. She was fine with that.

The first of the key cities they wanted to secure, Aurumreach, posed little resistance. Shockingly little. Unlike with Skatikk, Sable didn’t circle the city from above, but instead set down into the city proper to help her people bully them into compliance. Her easy take-down of the Bragghaven squad had greatly boosted her confidence when it came to her imperviousness. The Red Plains didn’t seem like it could muster many real threats to throw at her, though she also didn’t intend to become reckless.

[They’re gone?] Sable asked incredulously.

“Nearly all of our classed went to Verindale,” the younger goblin Captain stuttered. “This is really all of us.”

Sable looked, baffled, at the pitiful collection of warriors Aurumreach had gathered to speak with her and Skatikk’s classed. Her [Predator’s Insight] assured her there were no great hidden threats—or at least insofar as the skill could decipher, which she didn’t intend to take as guaranteed fact. Someone could just as easily have a counter to the ability; it was a tool and nothing more.

Sable didn’t understand. Even the initial attack force she’d brought along could destroy the scattering of low-leveled classed in Aurumreach, and Sable had brought them along to secure the city after Sable handled things, not to be the first line of attack. What was going on?

“But why?” a bewildered Rukni asked, as confused as Sable was. Naturally, the powerful group of classed that had rescued Quil’s group had joined in the assault, being one of Skatikk’s strongest teams. “Who’s defending the city, then?”

“Would it have mattered who was here?” the Captain asked, shooting a fearful look at Sable.

Sable had been expecting resistance, but it might not come from Aurumreach. Without even powerful classed to rely on, it seemed this was another city which would capitulate to Sable’s reign without struggle. At least, on the surface. Sable was worried about future headaches. But resisting in the state they were would be literally dousing themselves in gasoline and begging to be turned into a bonfire. Hatred for Sable or not, few people were that suicidal.

And she had a suspicion of what was going on. Because there was hatred in these people’s eyes—they wanted Sable dead. Her name was spreading across the Red Plains, but she had a especially potent reputation within Rustspike territory. They knew a dragon had razed Gadenrock to the ground, and here she was, seeking tribute cities.

Slowly, Sable realized what was going on.

[They’re gathering everyone they have for a final defense,] Sable said, having to repress an inward sigh. [If I had to guess, any notable warrior of theirs have gathered in Verindale, waiting for me.]

“But the Nightshades and Stonegrins?” Vex asked, still confused. “They’re defenseless, this way.”

Indeed, that was the biggest indicator of what Sable suspected was going to happen. They’d abandoned their cities to join forces in Verindale, despite surely knowing their territory and key cities—Aurumreach—would be under attack soon. Thus, this was truly a last ditch effort to fend Sable off, regardless of cost. They fully intended to attack her when she arrived there. It was the only explanation she could come up with.

She relayed her thoughts to Aylin, who fed them to the various Bonecracker classed in her employ. They seemed to agree with her, expressions turning grim. They’d likely been hoping for a mostly bloodless conquering too. Though some of them also seemed eager. The Bonecrackers and Rustspikes were generational enemies; in their eyes, the concept of a fight wasn’t wholly a bad thing. An outright good one, to the more bloodthirsty.

“Well,” Banr said. “It’s a fight, then. So be it.”

[So be it,] Sable agreed.

She didn’t bother formalizing the surrender of Aurumreach. Until Verindale—and the gathering of all their warriors—was dealt with, any so-called subjugation of other Rustspike cities was nearly pointless. She would fly in more Bonecracker troops and classed to secure the city after the real event was handled.

Leaving Aurumreach still in a confused, terrified frenzy, Sable collected her elite force and departed. The real subjugation needed to happen elsewhere.

***

Sable would admit to some trepidation as she soared toward the other of the major Rustspike cities. She’d engaged in battle—if it could be called that—against Bragghaven’s team, but she’d only injured them; they had probably lived. If things turned sour here, she doubted it would be the same.

Or could be the same. For the sake of her reputation, and her growing empire, she needed to show at least some of a tyrant’s disposition. Outright attacking her had to be met with retaliation in turn. Maybe she wouldn’t maximize her efforts to eradicate each of the resistors, but some casualties seemed inevitable.

Though she supposed she didn’t know what was really going on, not for certain. Just, the gathering of all of Rustspike’s remaining classed into a single city, leaving all others unmanned, didn’t bode well, not when coupled with Sable’s reputation in their tribe, having been the one to destroy Gadenrock.

She, like usual, announced her arrival to the city of Verindale with a series of ear-shattering roars accompanied by [Horrifying Aura]. Better to set the tone properly, even if tensions were high enough as it stood. Sable couldn’t take too many efforts to seem like a congenial ruler. Her explanations that she wanted to minimize slaughter to her livestock only extended so far.

Like Skatikk, the city of Verindale had siege weaponry on its walls. The devices weren’t as numerous as at the capital of the Bonecracker Tribe, but the city had apparently been expecting her, and Sable noted how quickly the weapons turned her way.

They didn’t fire, though Sable wondered whether that would last. She swooped down and landed in the city square without spending too much time whipping the city into a frenzy. She wasn’t worried for her own sake if a gigantic ballistae bolt flew her way, since she was fairly sure her scales could absorb it, though probably not pleasantly, but she doubted whether the transport and her subjects inside would hold up as well.

Her sixteen allies unstrapped and extricated themselves from the transport, grabbing weapons, shields, or set-aside pieces of armor as the readied themselves for a fight. Having set down in the town square, though, and without a warning of when she’d be coming, the people of Verindale had hardly mustered their forces to accept her.

That said, it took less time than she expected for them to organize a response. They hadn’t had an exact time for her arrival, but they had been waiting for her. Sable supposed that was fair, and even rather obvious. Of course Sable would be coming back; why would Gadenrock be a one-off thing? Hence why they’d flocked to Verindale in the first place.

As forces gathered in the town square, Sable wondered whether simply standing by and waiting for everyone of import to arrive was a smart idea. Rustspike’s forces had been crippled by the swift destruction of their capital city, but they had hardly lost every strong classed under their banner. Sable’s elite force was certainly the stronger, not to mention they had her, but as Sable leveled [Predator’s Insight] at all the gathering warriors, she had to admit that quantity had a quality of its own: sixteen elite against nearly three dozen slightly lower-leveled, but still strong, Rustspike warriors would make the fight no simple endeavor, should things take a turn for the violent.

Sable would rather it didn’t. Wholesale slaughter would never be her goal. That said, if a swift decapitation meant easy capture without future revolts—which would cost many more lives—then she would do as she needed.

The baleful looks she received almost uniformly from the gathering force didn’t bode well. She’d thought the remaining warriors of Aurumreach had had a frosty demeanor toward her, but these people were many times more hostile. Again, Sable repressed a sigh at how this would be turning out—she could read their intents plain as day. It would take a miracle to talk her way through this, and since Sable couldn’t approach the discussion as a true diplomat, needing to maintain at least somewhat of a reputation, she doubted that even a mote of success was possible.

That they weren’t already attacking was some kind of good news, but she didn’t think it would last. Possibly they wanted to hurl insults before they got to the main event. Or they might be preparing something; Sable was hardly blind to that possibility. She eyed their surroundings, looking for a trap, but found nothing.

“So,” a burly red-haired goblin finally said. “You’ve come to finish the job, have you?”

In a manner of speaking, she supposed that was right.