Fortress Al-Mir

Arkk stared at the burning wreckage, searching for any sign of movement among the myriad bodies strewn about.

Decades of travel carved out a small road between the trees, leaving a relatively clear, if narrow pathway between Elmshadow Burg and Harmony Burg. Trees loomed large, hanging over the path, providing some shelter from falling snow leaving the trail useable in the winter.

Evestani had been using it to resupply their army.

The Evestani soldiers in charge of guarding the transport hadn’t been worth the armor wasted on them. Five orcs, two gorgon, two dark elves, and a certain knife-wielding gremlin had handily dispatched the supply caravan’s guards. Arkk hadn’t even stepped in. The two dark elves were in charge today. He was present only to observe Kia and Claire’s handling of the situation.

Thus far, he was relatively pleased. Claire could stand to tone down how much she toyed with enemies who got in her way but Arkk couldn’t deny the effectiveness of their tactics.

Most of the supply caravan would be going back to Fortress Al-Mir. The dried and preserved army rations weren’t good but could still find use anytime they had to make excursions. The armor and weaponry could supply new recruits without consuming blacksmith hours. The dozen horses they captured would need a place to stay within the fortress but would certainly help in any future operations.

Lesser servants could eat anything that couldn’t be used, converting it to gold for later use.

“A hungry army is a desperate army,” Olatt’an said, trudging across the forest pathway toward him. He wasn’t part of the operation either. Like Arkk, he was here to observe how the team handled themselves. “Hitting one of these won’t do much. They’ll strain their rations a bit and tighten their belts, but they’ll live.”

“Hit a few more,” Arkk said, following along with his line of thought, “and they’ll start searching for alternate means of feeding themselves.”

“I bet they hit smaller villages. So far, in the interest of advancing across the Duchy as fast as possible, they’ve mostly ignored anything that wasn’t a large Burg that they could use as a foothold.” He turned to Arkk, flashing a toothless grin. “Unless those small villages have someone like you and Vezta defending them, an army will march over whatever pitiful defense they have. A village storehouse won’t have enough but it will feed the army until they march to the next village.”

Olatt’an, former raider that he was, counted as the foremost expert on such matters within Fortress Al-Mir. Arkk didn’t doubt a word he said. Nevertheless… “We’ll have Kia and Claire hit as many as they can. They’ll have to expand their search for other routes. Once is an accident but as soon as two caravans go missing on the same path, they’ll look for alternates.”

“Throwing villages to the wolves?” Olatt’an asked, quirking an eyebrow.

“Callous as it is to admit, they won’t be marching across the Duchy if they’re acting like raiders,” Arkk said, lips drawn tight. “I have a plan for dealing with the larger army. Or at least diminishing the threat they pose. It won’t be ready until Zullie finishes charging up those high-quality glowstones she stole from the academy. They take a lot longer than the smaller test ones we had been using, so I’m not sure when she will finish.”

“Well, until that plan is ready, I might have a better solution to the Evestani raider problem.” Olatt’an paused, the old orc waiting until Arkk raised an eyebrow. “We beat them to it. Scry to find where they’re headed then clear out the storehouses before they get there.”

“That… could work,” Arkk said slowly, mulling it over. “I presume we would offer the villagers safety at the fortress.”

Olatt’an shrugged. “That’s your business.”

It was a good thing he had been expanding the fortress since Inquisitor Vrox’s attack. He had been doing it for control over the territory but it would work just as well to house more refugees. Depending on how many villages they had to step in to help, he might still have to expand more and more.

“Get back to the fortress,” Arkk said, “and get to the scrying team. Have them check on the Evestani army’s current position and begin making note of the nearest villages. Depending on how close they are, we might evacuate them immediately. I want a minimum of two days marching time between the army and their nearest possible target.”

“Think they’ll be happy to come along after you let them know how much the Duke hates you?”

Arkk couldn’t help his grimace.

They had lost a few people over that. A few of the humans who had joined up in Cliff. Not all of them but enough to be notable. None of the demihumans or beastmen wanted out. Still, even though Company Al-Mir had grown, four missing didn’t go unnoticed. Worse, they knew about the teleportation circles and, if they were smart, could infer weaknesses and use cases. It was some small consolation that none of the recruits knew where the fortress was.

Most of the refugees from out near Moonshine Burg hadn’t exactly been happy either but none complained. It wasn’t like they had anywhere else to go.

Katja just laughed.

“For the villages we wish to evacuate, we’ll just have to impress upon them how thoroughly the Evestani will kill them. I hope they chose the more pragmatic choice.”

“And if they don’t?” Olatt’an asked, strong arms moving over his chest. “We just leave them and their food for the Evestani to take?”

Arkk shot the old orc a look. “We aren’t becoming raiders ourselves, if that is what you’re implying.”

Olatt’an held up his hands, shrugging. “I suppose one or two small villages won’t make a difference either way. But if they all reject your offer.”

“We’ll deal with that if it happens. I imagine the threat of certain death will convince most.”

“Fair enough. I’ll head back now then. Get the scryers working.”

Arkk dismissed him with a wave of his hand. Olatt’an trudged back through the forest toward the ritual circle that had brought them here. As he headed out, the two leaders of the expedition approached Arkk.

Claire barely spoke at the best of times. Her short brown hair bobbed with her movements, unkempt and uncared for as if she hacked it off at her shoulders with a rusty blade whenever it got too long, eying Arkk with her icy blue eyes. She paused before fully reaching Arkk, cleaning off her sword on the gambeson of a downed soldier.

Kia was the true leader of the group on account of her actually talking but she and Claire came as a unit. It was both of them or neither of them. The older dark elf had a mass of piercings in her ears, each gleaming in what little sun that managed to get through the branches of the forest.

“Area secure with only minor injuries sustained,” she said with a personable smile despite the slowly drying blood marring her face and blonde hair. “About three-quarters of the supplies survived and have been secured. The orcs are taking the wagons to the teleportation circle now.”

“Good,” Arkk said, clasping his hands together behind his back. “Have the wounded… Zullie is busy. Have them visit Hale. Minor injuries would be good for her to practice on.”

Kia nodded her head, sending her ponytail flipping back and forth. “If there is nothing else, I would like a bath,” she said, which earned a nod from Claire.

“Were there any issues working together with your team? Any tactical holes that you would like filled?” Arkk grimaced the moment the words left his mouth. He thanked the stars that Lexa wasn’t within earshot.

If either of the dark elves noticed or cared about his phrasing, they didn’t show it. Kia hummed, touching a dark fingernail to her chin. “The gorgon were a little sluggish—I think it’s the cold—but that wasn’t much of a problem. They petrified who I identified as the most troublesome opponents without issue.”

“Good. I expect you two to train with this team. Once I’ve got eyes on another supply caravan, you’ll be hitting it just like this.” With a wave of his hand and a muttered incantation, Arkk summoned a lesser servant.

Neither dark elf reacted to the unsightly monster appearing in their midst.

“You’ll be taking along one of these in future operations as well. I’ll make sure one waits in storeroom three for your team at all times. They won’t fight but they’ll eat all evidence left behind and destroy the ritual circles after you leave.”

“Stop by storeroom three for the slime monster before future operations,” Kia said, nodding her head. “Understood.”

“Excellent. Get your team back to the fortress.”

Kia saluted like she had been in a mercenary company for about thirty years. Which she had. Raven’s Claw company. Claire merely dipped her head in a barely-there acknowledgment.

Leaving them to their task, Arkk headed back first.

Of the four harpies rescued from the Duke’s manor, none were interested in joining Company Al-Mir. None were even interested in remaining at the fortress. Something about having been kept underground for far too long as it was and not wanting to spend another moment in yet another dungeon. Arkk offered a fistful of gold just for one of them to do a quick fly around in the Underworld and report back on their findings.

None had taken him up on the offer.

Arkk had taken them out to a random point via teleportation circle and let them go free. As much as he might want aerial scouts, he wasn’t going to force them into it.

He turned next to the fairies they had rescued. Unfortunately, he had learned that fairies did not so much as fly as they hovered. They didn’t mimic the swift, gliding flight that made harpies the ideal method of long-distance communication. Fairy flight needed the ground to push off. Once they got too high, they just couldn’t go any higher.

It would be little different than sending out a squad of orcs.

One fairy wanted to leave with the harpies. Two fairies joined up with him.

Given the supposed historical prowess for magic that fairies were said to possess, he had been interested in seeing whether the contract with Fortress Al-Mir revitalized that. The two fairies had been overjoyed, filled with awe and wonder, at their newfound ability to sling lightning bolts. Arkk found himself disappointed that, much like orcs or humans or any other who lacked the ability to cast magic on their own, the fairies wound up exhausted after a single spell, requiring several hours to get back in action.

The other rescues from the Duke’s manor weren’t all that notable. Most weren’t fighters and didn’t want to join the mercenary company. A few did join. Another gremlin, a few elves and one dark elf, a few orcs, and a handful of beastmen of varying species.

Arkk sat at his desk, poring over Company Al-Mir’s roster. Who would be best where? Some needed training. Who was best to do the training? Was it best to split up the demihumans and beastmen? Demihumans and humans could all benefit from a single instructor but beastmen often used their claws or even teeth as weapons in addition to daggers and swords—sometimes they were not able to hold weapons with the differences in hands.

Who could be cleared for guard duty in the Underworld? Who might be better used in the scrying team rotation? Which were magically adept enough to learn spells like Flesh Weaving? Did the strike team need additional members?

Did the food production need to be expanded again? Various wings of the fortress needed expanding. Some, such as the executive quarters, needed reorganization. There had been a minor altercation between some of the original raider orcs and some of the new hires. Did that need addressing or would they work out their issues on their own? Dakka advised toward the latter but…

There was much work to be done. Constantly.

Ilya was back and that was a great help. She, along with Katt’am, were managing all aspects of the refugees and other guests of Fortress Al-Mir, ensuring they had space, clothing, food, and other necessities. And ensuring no conflicts broke out.

Although she wasn’t part of Fortress Al-Mir, Alya had taken to assisting her daughter with the refugees. Arkk was somewhat surprised that elder elf hadn’t demanded to be released back into Cliff. Then again, with the Duke having thrown her into the dungeons, she was probably well aware that her time living there had passed. Whatever the case, Arkk was perfectly happy to have her off in the refugee section of the fortress. It was segmented heavily from the rest of the fortress and thus, he hardly ever crossed paths with the elf.

A light knock on his door had him setting his pen down. He didn’t need to use the link of the fortress to check on who stood on the other side. The light notes of the tapping had become quite familiar.

“Enter,” he called out.

Vezta stepped inside, demure and poised as always. “Message for you, Sir,” she said holding up a letter. With a movement of her fingers, she splayed out the letter to reveal a few more. “Several, in fact. John brought them back from Smilesville Burg.”

“Anything important?”

“One bearing the emblem of White Company. The Duke’s signet stamps another. The third looks like something from the Abbey of the Light,” she said, tone turning to distaste with that last admission.

Frowning, Arkk took the one with the Duke’s signet first, breaking the wax seal with a flick of his fingers. He unfolded the papers and quickly skimmed the text.

“A demand to appear before the Duke for trial and execution,” Arkk said, tossing it into the fire before he even finished reading.

“Trial and execution? Sounds as if there is little need for a trial.”

“Quite,” Arkk said, taking the letter from the Abbey. He expected it to be much the same as the first.

Sure enough, they were demanding absolution in a temple, containment of Vezta, and, following that, submission to the laws of the land under the Duke. Trial and execution, given the first letter. Shaking his head, Arkk almost threw it into the flames as well, only to pause as he noticed the signatory at the bottom.

Master Inquisitor Darius Vrox.

Arkk let out a small, depressed sigh. Had Vrox ended up agreeing with the rest of the Abbey? Arkk couldn’t really blame the man. Especially now that he knew the incident that had them up in arms was his fault. Still, he had hoped…

Skimming the letter again, Arkk’s train of thought stalled. “The word ‘trust’ appears eight times in a rather short letter,” he said slowly. “If I’ve decided to repent, I can turn myself in on the broken pier by the next full moon?”

“The next full moon is in two days.”

“When I met him in the tunnel, I told him to have all his suppositions and theories on the broken sky ready and for him to turn off his scrying protections so that we can read it. But we didn’t specify a location. I assumed we would be able to find him but…” Arkk placed the letter down on his desk. “Join the scrying team at nightfall every night until the full moon starts to wane. Check the broken pier in Cliff City for Vrox.”

“Is there a point?” Vezta asked, cocking her head to one side. “We already know what caused the disturbance.”

“Vrox can detect scrying, as evidenced by him waving at us before activating his protections the first time. He’ll know if we ignore him and I would prefer if he at least believes that we’re taking the threat to heart.”

“The Abbey are puppets of the Holy Light. They will be our enemies regardless of your relation with the inquisitor.”

“Having a man on the inside, helping us as much as he can, is valuable enough.”

“I see. Very well, Master,” Vezta said with a slight bow. “Perhaps we can find a suitable scapegoat to appease them for the time being.” Her lips curled back into a fairly vicious grin. “Wouldn’t it be amusing if we could somehow implicate the Golden Order in the incident?”

Arkk hummed, moving around his desk to dig out a fresh paper and a bottle of ink. “They don’t like each other already. From my understanding, the Abbey of the Light detests the Golden Order and vice-versa. It was one of the reasons for the previous war with Evestani. A whole war for just the two churches vying for dominance in the region. Which is a little odd given that the church in Langleey Village has the sigils of all three of the traitor gods on it.”

“Not so odd. I imagine they were united immediately after the Calamity, after their successful coup over the rest of the [PANTHEON]. But, in the years since, they may not have seen eye-to-eye. Resentment brewed. Disagreements turned hostile. They cannot act against one another directly so they use their pawns.”

Arkk only half-listened to Vezta as he scrawled out a short letter back to Vrox. One that essentially confirmed that he saw the location and, while he wouldn’t be able to show himself in person, he trusted that Vrox would do what he felt was necessary.

“Honestly,” he said as he finished up, “I think it would have saved the rest of us a lot of trouble if the gods just slugged it out between one another. Why drag everyone into it?”

“Not a wise action. The shattered sky—the shattered [STARS]—came about because of a disagreement in the [PANTHEON]. Or so I’ve gathered. It was well before my time. If they fought directly, there might not be a world left to fight over. They act through intermediaries specifically to avoid destroying more of reality.”

Arkk folded up the letter and poured a dribble of violet wax onto the surface, sealing it with the impossibly complex maze and compass rose that was Company Al-Mir’s insignia. “Alright, in that case, I take it back.” He paused, mind thrumming over possibilities. “If we were to somehow destroy all religion and evidence of them—likely an impossible task, but I’m just curious—what would the traitor gods do? They wouldn’t have anyone to carry out their will. Would they take action directly? Or would they just fade into irrelevance?”

Vezta shook her head, accepting the letter from Arkk. “Even if we were to do so, a mortal would eventually be born who aligned enough with one of them to become an avatar. At that point, they would begin to spread their influence again.”

“So they wouldn’t destroy the world. No, ‘if I can’t have it then no one can’?”

Vezta let out a small sigh. “Arkk. I don’t pretend to know the minds of incomprehensible beings. Anything is possible. And with the lengths that they went to in their betrayal of the rest, perhaps your scenario is more likely than my own.”

“I see. Well, I doubt it matters. Destroying knowledge of them to the point where there would be zero worshippers seems impossible without destroying the world anyway,” he said, shaking his head. “Have John get that on a Swiftwing back to Vrox… But hold a moment while I check Hawkwood’s letter.”

As Vezta nodded, Arkk broke the seal on the final letter. His eyes trailed down the page. Every line made the palms of his hands a little colder. Clammy.

“Golden magic broke the line Hawkwood and the Duke’s Grand Guard had been holding at Gleeful Burg. White Company in particular lost a full half of its army while the Grand Guard routed after a third perished.”

“Gleeful Burg?”

“Not as large as Elmshadow but it is one of the few large burgs left between Evestani and Cliff… Or Evestani and us.”

“So our strikes against their supplies?”

“Too little, too late. And now they’ve surely got their hands on Gleeful’s storehouses. Hawkwood burned Elmshadow’s before the retreat but was unable to do so at Gleeful.” Arkk clenched his hand into a fist, staring at the letter. Reading and rereading it.

He drew in a breath and let it out slowly.

“If their pattern holds, they will spend a short time further securing the burg as their new forward operating base. They’ll launch minor attacks on smaller burgs in the area, both to gather food and to keep the defending armies on the back foot. With Hawkwood’s losses…”

He clenched his teeth, turning to the map on the wall of his office. Angry gold marks indicating the advance of Evestani covered more than half of it already. Zullie wasn’t ready to deal with the army. They needed those supply line strikes to slow down their advance enough to buy time to charge those glowstones. Otherwise, his plan would fail…

They needed more time.

As long as Evestani had food, they wouldn’t stop.

He had to get rid of their food. If not en route… then at the source.

“Get me Agnete.”