‘But why not tell anyone, then?’ said Diego. ‘Did he think we wouldn’t understand? It’s his daughter.’
‘Maybe. Or maybe he was worried that some of us would try to go with him.’
‘Hmm. And the Monster of the East just accepted that? The offer was for all of us to leave, not Zeff by himself.’
‘You’re right. That does seem strange. There could be more to it.’
Indeed, that seemed likely. The timing couldn’t have been more peculiar. While it might’ve made sense on the surface that the Lord Elroy would’ve done anything in order to reunite with his lost daughter, Diego hadn’t forgotten the other news that Zeff had shared with them before.
About Field Marshal Graves putting Zeff in contact with his other lost daughter, Gema.
That one had not been an offer in exchange for anything. Graves had merely promised to make it happen, free of charge, whenever Gema became available.
And from the uncharacteristically happy way that Zeff had been when talking about it, Diego felt that there was precisely a snowball’s chance in lakefire that the man would have completely disregarded that it in favor of going after Emiliana.
Granted, that would’ve been another impossible call. Choosing between children. But that was also why Zeff would have told someone about it, Diego thought.
In the even that he knew he might miss his opportunity to meet Gema, surely Zeff would have informed someone of his intentions so that that person could go in his stead, no?
Agh. Or maybe not. Maybe Zeff expected to return soon and still make his meeting with Gema?
Or... maybe this disappearance was the meeting with Gema?
The more he thought about the matter, the more questions Diego had. And there was at least one person here who could provide some answers.
Talking to him alone didn’t seem like the greatest idea, though. Diego didn’t have any experience with meeting people that power. Amicable though the guy appeared, Graves did not strike Diego as the kind of person that one should speak to casually or unprepared.
And the man did not have much in the way of free time, apparently. As one might’ve expected, Graves was rather important to this entire warfront, now. Some would even call him the linchpin on which all their fates rested, though Diego and his fellow Rainlords, as well as the RPMP, would probably have something to say about that.
A dark serial novel. Set in a modern fantasy world called Eleg. Mature language. Updates every night at midnight PST by ~400 words.
Saturday, June 22, 2024
Friday, June 21, 2024
Page 3614
That was not to say that everything was going perfectly, however. Far from it. New worries were arising every day, it seemed.
Such as the whereabouts of the Lord Zeff Elroy.
His disappearance had disturbed everyone, especially Grandma. And it had not escaped anyone’s notice that this disappearance had come only after Zeff told them all about a sudden offer from the Monster of the East.
An offer to leave this battlefield behind and enter into Gohvis’ protection, where Zeff would be able to meet up with his lost daughter, Emiliana.
That had certainly been a surprise. And discussing their response to that offer had been their first real act as a reunited council of Rainlord heads.
Unlike the Golden Council of the Sandlords, the Rainlords had no formal title for their gathering, because the government of the Wetlands was not entirely run by the Rainlords. It mostly was, maybe about seventy percent, but there had still been plenty of non-Rainlord leaders and officials going around.
If more of the members had been present for the meeting, the official government name for it would’ve been the Congress of Western Sair--or the Wetlands Congress, as some called it.
Which led Diego down a whole other rabbit hole of worry, of course, about the current state of Sair. Of their subjects, who’d been forced to endure hell at the hands of Abolish.
He tried not to dwell on that too much, right now. The time for that would come.
Naturally, the decision regarding Gohvis’ offer had been one of rejection. A few of the reapers had expressed an interest in accepting, as did Zeff, but even they seemed hesitant about it. In the end, the vote to decline was not merely a majority but fully unanimous.
Which was a little surprising, actually. A couple of the reapers, most notably Mevox, were infamous for being contrarians and voting against whatever the majority sentiment was.
Perhaps even Mevox was not in the mood to be playing around when matters were this severe.
So Zeff’s disappearance was doubly confusing. One would’ve thought that if he wanted to see his daughter that badly, then he would have cast his vote in favor of acceptance.
‘I don’t know,’ said Yangera when they’d discussed it privately. ‘It actually makes a strange sort of sense to me.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘Zeff was in an impossible position. Torn between his two great responsibilities. That of a leader and that of a father. Perhaps voting the way he did was him trying to do right by us, and him disappearing was him trying to do right by his daughter.’
Such as the whereabouts of the Lord Zeff Elroy.
His disappearance had disturbed everyone, especially Grandma. And it had not escaped anyone’s notice that this disappearance had come only after Zeff told them all about a sudden offer from the Monster of the East.
An offer to leave this battlefield behind and enter into Gohvis’ protection, where Zeff would be able to meet up with his lost daughter, Emiliana.
That had certainly been a surprise. And discussing their response to that offer had been their first real act as a reunited council of Rainlord heads.
Unlike the Golden Council of the Sandlords, the Rainlords had no formal title for their gathering, because the government of the Wetlands was not entirely run by the Rainlords. It mostly was, maybe about seventy percent, but there had still been plenty of non-Rainlord leaders and officials going around.
If more of the members had been present for the meeting, the official government name for it would’ve been the Congress of Western Sair--or the Wetlands Congress, as some called it.
Which led Diego down a whole other rabbit hole of worry, of course, about the current state of Sair. Of their subjects, who’d been forced to endure hell at the hands of Abolish.
He tried not to dwell on that too much, right now. The time for that would come.
Naturally, the decision regarding Gohvis’ offer had been one of rejection. A few of the reapers had expressed an interest in accepting, as did Zeff, but even they seemed hesitant about it. In the end, the vote to decline was not merely a majority but fully unanimous.
Which was a little surprising, actually. A couple of the reapers, most notably Mevox, were infamous for being contrarians and voting against whatever the majority sentiment was.
Perhaps even Mevox was not in the mood to be playing around when matters were this severe.
So Zeff’s disappearance was doubly confusing. One would’ve thought that if he wanted to see his daughter that badly, then he would have cast his vote in favor of acceptance.
‘I don’t know,’ said Yangera when they’d discussed it privately. ‘It actually makes a strange sort of sense to me.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘Zeff was in an impossible position. Torn between his two great responsibilities. That of a leader and that of a father. Perhaps voting the way he did was him trying to do right by us, and him disappearing was him trying to do right by his daughter.’
Thursday, June 20, 2024
Page 3613
It was a hell of a thing, having everyone back like this. The Redwaters, in particular.
For months and months, he’d been the sole member of House Redwater among a sea of Rainlords. And for a while there, it had felt like that might continue to be the case for many months more. Years, even.
He’d never been terribly worried that they would be retrieved. For some reason, that had always felt like an inevitabilitly to him. Perhaps that stemmed from his faith in the other Houses to see it done. He’d known quite early on that they would not rest until everyone was recovered.
But he had been worried about being the lone representative of the Redwaters. The only one able to speak and act for them.
Truth be told, he’d always felt like something of a black sheep within the family. Growing up, it seemed to him that he’d always been singled out for one reason or another. In the very beginning, it had probably been quite superficial: the other kids poking fun at him for his red hair, for instance. Very few Rainlords had that hair color, and he remembered it being a frequent topic of conversation.
But over time, it had grown beyond that. Because he adapted. Leaned into all of the attention. Embraced it, turned it around on people, made fun of them, and learned the difference between a gentle ribbing and genuine humiliation.
That had been very valuable when it came to making friends--and also when it came to getting out of trouble. Rainlord families may have been stricter than most, but it still never hurt, being able to schmooze conversations a bit with the grown ups. He couldn’t recall how many times he’d been able to soften what would’ve otherwise been a brutal punishment for him and the other kids.
Now, he realized that he’d taken so much strength and vigor from the presence of his family. Just being around them had energized him. Made him feel whole.
So he had not been prepared when they all disappeared. When the weight and long history of House Redwater fell upon his shoulders, alone.
He tried to never let it show, of course. The insecurity. At least, not really. Joking about it was easy enough. And helpful for the deception, perhaps. And thankfully, there’d been plenty of opportunities to focus on whatever craziness was unfolding around them instead of his own fears and concerns.
But now that they were back, he felt a deeper, longer-lasting sense of relief than he thought humanly possible.
Out of all the Rainlords who’d been searching these many months for their lost kin, Diego Redwater didn’t think any of them could’ve possibly been more contented right now than him. Even in the midst of battle, he could still feel it there.
For months and months, he’d been the sole member of House Redwater among a sea of Rainlords. And for a while there, it had felt like that might continue to be the case for many months more. Years, even.
He’d never been terribly worried that they would be retrieved. For some reason, that had always felt like an inevitabilitly to him. Perhaps that stemmed from his faith in the other Houses to see it done. He’d known quite early on that they would not rest until everyone was recovered.
But he had been worried about being the lone representative of the Redwaters. The only one able to speak and act for them.
Truth be told, he’d always felt like something of a black sheep within the family. Growing up, it seemed to him that he’d always been singled out for one reason or another. In the very beginning, it had probably been quite superficial: the other kids poking fun at him for his red hair, for instance. Very few Rainlords had that hair color, and he remembered it being a frequent topic of conversation.
But over time, it had grown beyond that. Because he adapted. Leaned into all of the attention. Embraced it, turned it around on people, made fun of them, and learned the difference between a gentle ribbing and genuine humiliation.
That had been very valuable when it came to making friends--and also when it came to getting out of trouble. Rainlord families may have been stricter than most, but it still never hurt, being able to schmooze conversations a bit with the grown ups. He couldn’t recall how many times he’d been able to soften what would’ve otherwise been a brutal punishment for him and the other kids.
Now, he realized that he’d taken so much strength and vigor from the presence of his family. Just being around them had energized him. Made him feel whole.
So he had not been prepared when they all disappeared. When the weight and long history of House Redwater fell upon his shoulders, alone.
He tried to never let it show, of course. The insecurity. At least, not really. Joking about it was easy enough. And helpful for the deception, perhaps. And thankfully, there’d been plenty of opportunities to focus on whatever craziness was unfolding around them instead of his own fears and concerns.
But now that they were back, he felt a deeper, longer-lasting sense of relief than he thought humanly possible.
Out of all the Rainlords who’d been searching these many months for their lost kin, Diego Redwater didn’t think any of them could’ve possibly been more contented right now than him. Even in the midst of battle, he could still feel it there.
Wednesday, June 19, 2024
Page 3612
He didn’t necessarily blame them, either. Over the years, he’d heard it mentioned a few times: the idea that reapers might one day be rendered obsolete by the advancement of technology. Clearly, that day was still quite far away, assuming it ever arrived at all, but the ramata did look like a rather significant step in that direction.
It was certainly an interesting notion, though. He remembered discussing it with Yangéra before, but unlike most other reapers, she actually seemed somewhat receptive to the possibility.
‘Honestly, it might even be for the best,’ she’d told him. ‘Us reapers can be real troublemakers, even when we mean well. And especially when we don’t. But if we were ever cast aside by the most powerful figures on the planet, then maybe we would have less ability to meddle in the affairs of the living world. If nothing else, it would definitely give fewer reapers an excuse to neglect the job of reaping souls.’
He didn’t know if he believed all that, but maybe she had a point.
Either way, even if the ramata became advanced enough to perfectly replicate all servant abilities with little-to-no resource cost, Diego still doubted that any technology would ever be able to replace the reaper’s ability to regrow servants from scratch. That seemed flatly impossible, no matter how many years passed.
The presence of the ramata also added one more wrinkle to this battle, however. Under no circumstances could they allow one of them to fall into the enemy’s hands. The Artisan himself had made that abundantly clear. He did not want just any old soldier to be carrying one. He’d only distributed them to those of sufficient rank, and he’d even gone out of his way to discuss the matter with the Rainlords, petitioning them for their aid in ensuring that no ramatas survived the battle outside of the RPMP’s custody.
For their help, he’d offered the Rainlords various means of payment: two ramatas to keep as their own, cold hard cash, and the chance to request a custom creation from him at some point in the future, once the war was over.
It was a hell of a deal, all things considered. When he’d heard the terms, Diego could hardly believe the man was being so generous, but then he’d heard that the Lord Santos Zabat had served as their primary negotiator, and then Diego was no longer surprised.
It was certainly an interesting notion, though. He remembered discussing it with Yangéra before, but unlike most other reapers, she actually seemed somewhat receptive to the possibility.
‘Honestly, it might even be for the best,’ she’d told him. ‘Us reapers can be real troublemakers, even when we mean well. And especially when we don’t. But if we were ever cast aside by the most powerful figures on the planet, then maybe we would have less ability to meddle in the affairs of the living world. If nothing else, it would definitely give fewer reapers an excuse to neglect the job of reaping souls.’
He didn’t know if he believed all that, but maybe she had a point.
Either way, even if the ramata became advanced enough to perfectly replicate all servant abilities with little-to-no resource cost, Diego still doubted that any technology would ever be able to replace the reaper’s ability to regrow servants from scratch. That seemed flatly impossible, no matter how many years passed.
The presence of the ramata also added one more wrinkle to this battle, however. Under no circumstances could they allow one of them to fall into the enemy’s hands. The Artisan himself had made that abundantly clear. He did not want just any old soldier to be carrying one. He’d only distributed them to those of sufficient rank, and he’d even gone out of his way to discuss the matter with the Rainlords, petitioning them for their aid in ensuring that no ramatas survived the battle outside of the RPMP’s custody.
For their help, he’d offered the Rainlords various means of payment: two ramatas to keep as their own, cold hard cash, and the chance to request a custom creation from him at some point in the future, once the war was over.
It was a hell of a deal, all things considered. When he’d heard the terms, Diego could hardly believe the man was being so generous, but then he’d heard that the Lord Santos Zabat had served as their primary negotiator, and then Diego was no longer surprised.
Tuesday, June 18, 2024
Page 3611
By now, he’d personally witnessed the strength of all three of the RPMP’s most esteemed warriors. And they were nothing to sneeze at. He could see why both the Vanguard and Abolish had chosen to respect the RPMP’s authority during their stay in Ridgemark.
Linus Maximillian, Kristof Raynor, and Daro Bright. The Linebreaker, the Jailer, and the Black Artisan, respectively.
Thus far, Diego had fought alongside Linus the most. He’d ended up practically glued to the man during the assault on Logden Prison, so he’d been able to witness Linus manhandling the likes of Raga Marda, Mikas Cross, and a powerful prison guard named Longvin--and all simultaneously, at some points.
Raynor, of course, had distinguished himself on multiple occasions, as well. When they were transporting those poor Miroan villagers over to Ridgemark, Raynor showed up and aided the Rainlords against Raga Marda and Jan Cross. And out here, on this battlefield, Raynor had been holding off the VMP since the very beginning of the siege--almost single-handedly, no less.
Because the third, Daro Bright, was exactly what his moniker, the Black Artisan, implied: an integrator who primarily took on the role of support.
But what incredible support it was.
Diego had gotten more than a few glimpses of the man’s work by now--and even the opportunity to wield some of his custom-made weaponry and tools. Perhaps the most impressive was something that the RPMP troops were calling a ramata, or roughly “spell thrower” in Valgan.
In short, it was a device capable of mimicking servant powers.
True, they were quite limited in their capabilities, such as with materialization, where it could only create small, predetermined objects which did not last terribly long before disintegrating--but still.
It was hard not to be in utter amazement.
The ramata was also quite small and portable, not much larger than a standard sidearm but still smaller than a rifle. From what Diego had seen, it also required quite a bit of maintenance--and some sort of crystal as its fuel source. He had a feeling that was the real trick of it. Whatever those crystals were composed of, it couldn’t be any normal thing, he felt.
He’d asked some of the reapers and other servants about it, but thus far, he hadn’t been able to learn anything.
Other than the fact, perhaps, that some of the reapers were genuinely unsettled by its existence.
Linus Maximillian, Kristof Raynor, and Daro Bright. The Linebreaker, the Jailer, and the Black Artisan, respectively.
Thus far, Diego had fought alongside Linus the most. He’d ended up practically glued to the man during the assault on Logden Prison, so he’d been able to witness Linus manhandling the likes of Raga Marda, Mikas Cross, and a powerful prison guard named Longvin--and all simultaneously, at some points.
Raynor, of course, had distinguished himself on multiple occasions, as well. When they were transporting those poor Miroan villagers over to Ridgemark, Raynor showed up and aided the Rainlords against Raga Marda and Jan Cross. And out here, on this battlefield, Raynor had been holding off the VMP since the very beginning of the siege--almost single-handedly, no less.
Because the third, Daro Bright, was exactly what his moniker, the Black Artisan, implied: an integrator who primarily took on the role of support.
But what incredible support it was.
Diego had gotten more than a few glimpses of the man’s work by now--and even the opportunity to wield some of his custom-made weaponry and tools. Perhaps the most impressive was something that the RPMP troops were calling a ramata, or roughly “spell thrower” in Valgan.
In short, it was a device capable of mimicking servant powers.
True, they were quite limited in their capabilities, such as with materialization, where it could only create small, predetermined objects which did not last terribly long before disintegrating--but still.
It was hard not to be in utter amazement.
The ramata was also quite small and portable, not much larger than a standard sidearm but still smaller than a rifle. From what Diego had seen, it also required quite a bit of maintenance--and some sort of crystal as its fuel source. He had a feeling that was the real trick of it. Whatever those crystals were composed of, it couldn’t be any normal thing, he felt.
He’d asked some of the reapers and other servants about it, but thus far, he hadn’t been able to learn anything.
Other than the fact, perhaps, that some of the reapers were genuinely unsettled by its existence.
Monday, June 17, 2024
Page 3610 -- CCXCIX.
The two emperors remained still as they observed the mayhem for a few more moments.
“You are going to owe me after this,” said Father.
“Sure, sure,” said Morgunov. “What do you want? Help with that big rocket ship of yours?”
“Touch that, and I’ll kill you. Bool, included.”
“Oh, c’mon!” said Morgunov, laughing. “I could make all sorts of improvements to it! And I won’t prank you this time! I swear!”
“I have a different project in mind for you.”
“Oh?! Color me intrigued! Of course, that won't mean jack if Kallmakk beats your old ass like a paddle ball!”
“Hmph. From the sound of it, that is what he has been doing to you."
"Ehehe! Maybe just a bit! But I'm still here, aren't I? And frankly, I'm looking forward to seeing you get clobbered a few times!"
"The feeling is mutual. Now, let's go."
Chapter Two-Hundred Ninety-Nine: ‘The Hunter’s sight...’
Click to display entire chapter at once -- (mobile link)
Diego Redwater didn’t think he’d ever felt this bad for enemy combatants before. This battle had been a foregone conclusion for quite a while now. Over the past few weeks, every single one of the Vantalayan Military Police’s assaults had been rebuffed, and now, things were going ever worse for them. Each new assault was not only failing but also turning into a counterattack by the Ridgemark Private Military Police, usually extending quite deep into the enemy line and ripping them to shreds.
It was a wonder they hadn’t given up already. A wonder, but also sadly understandable.
The problem seemed to be that the VMP kept getting reinforcements from the larger VAF, the Vantalayan Armed Forces, as well as from Abolish. And those reinforcements were always substantial to prolong the fighting but never enough to actually make a difference. Every new platoon of soldiers seemed to make the VMP think that, surely this time, they could turn the tide. That they still had hope of taking over Ridgemark.
That full retreat wasn’t inevitable.
But all Rainlords knew it. With as much power as they had on their side now, victory for the enemy was practically impossible.
To outsiders, perhaps that would’ve sounded cocky. Certainly, the Rainlords had suffered their share of defeats not so long ago, but those had occurred while they were divided--and with almost no allies, to boot.
Here and now, the VMP was facing the almost fully united Rainlord forces, as well as the quite shockingly powerful RPMP. Not to mention, Leo the Bull Leech.
And with Vanderberk now out of the picture, morale on this side of the battlefield was at an all-time high. More than once, Diego had heard loose talk that even if one of the emperors suddenly showed up to support the enemy, victory was still all but assured.
Maybe that was an exaggeration, but... truthfully, Diego felt it might actually be true, too.
“You are going to owe me after this,” said Father.
“Sure, sure,” said Morgunov. “What do you want? Help with that big rocket ship of yours?”
“Touch that, and I’ll kill you. Bool, included.”
“Oh, c’mon!” said Morgunov, laughing. “I could make all sorts of improvements to it! And I won’t prank you this time! I swear!”
“I have a different project in mind for you.”
“Oh?! Color me intrigued! Of course, that won't mean jack if Kallmakk beats your old ass like a paddle ball!”
“Hmph. From the sound of it, that is what he has been doing to you."
"Ehehe! Maybe just a bit! But I'm still here, aren't I? And frankly, I'm looking forward to seeing you get clobbered a few times!"
"The feeling is mutual. Now, let's go."
Chapter Two-Hundred Ninety-Nine: ‘The Hunter’s sight...’
Click to display entire chapter at once -- (mobile link)
Diego Redwater didn’t think he’d ever felt this bad for enemy combatants before. This battle had been a foregone conclusion for quite a while now. Over the past few weeks, every single one of the Vantalayan Military Police’s assaults had been rebuffed, and now, things were going ever worse for them. Each new assault was not only failing but also turning into a counterattack by the Ridgemark Private Military Police, usually extending quite deep into the enemy line and ripping them to shreds.
It was a wonder they hadn’t given up already. A wonder, but also sadly understandable.
The problem seemed to be that the VMP kept getting reinforcements from the larger VAF, the Vantalayan Armed Forces, as well as from Abolish. And those reinforcements were always substantial to prolong the fighting but never enough to actually make a difference. Every new platoon of soldiers seemed to make the VMP think that, surely this time, they could turn the tide. That they still had hope of taking over Ridgemark.
That full retreat wasn’t inevitable.
But all Rainlords knew it. With as much power as they had on their side now, victory for the enemy was practically impossible.
To outsiders, perhaps that would’ve sounded cocky. Certainly, the Rainlords had suffered their share of defeats not so long ago, but those had occurred while they were divided--and with almost no allies, to boot.
Here and now, the VMP was facing the almost fully united Rainlord forces, as well as the quite shockingly powerful RPMP. Not to mention, Leo the Bull Leech.
And with Vanderberk now out of the picture, morale on this side of the battlefield was at an all-time high. More than once, Diego had heard loose talk that even if one of the emperors suddenly showed up to support the enemy, victory was still all but assured.
Maybe that was an exaggeration, but... truthfully, Diego felt it might actually be true, too.
Saturday, June 15, 2024
Friday, June 14, 2024
Page 3609
Thankfully, Father was not in his quarters in the heart of the Obsidian Shell. It would have been momentarily tedious to breach the fortress’ walls and reach him there with Germal in tow, and time was quite precious, right now.
Instead, he found Father at the center of a large gathering. Soldiers sat in large groups, feasting at long, hulking tables filled with tall, blazing braziers and ample food and drink. The raucous laughter in the air began to die out as many familiar faces began to notice his presence.
If he hadn’t known Father as well as he did, Gohvis-Aeha might have thought they were celebrating some great victory, but this was actually quite a regular sight. Father loved his banquets. He was always finding excuses to treat himself and his men to lavish, hearty meals whenever possible. Claimed it was good for both morale and recruitment--which was probably true.
The Prime found it to be a rather obnoxious and wasteful habit, but Father always countered by arguing what was the point in conquering the world if one didn’t indulge in the excesses that said world could provide?
When Gohvis-Aeha finally laid eyes on Father, the man was already looking back at him and standing up from a chair that was so ornate and golden that it might as well have been a throne.
Then the ambient laughter truly died out as all eyes turned to Father, who sighed.
“What mess have you brought me?” said the old emperor.
First things first. He had to shift blame. “Morgunov picked a fight with a feldeath.”
Fortunately, Father had no time to get mad at him, which he must have realized, because he immediately shouted to his men. “Battle stations! Defend the camp!”
And everyone began scrambling. Father’s surrounding officers scattered to go organize and lead their individual sects.
Gohvis-Aeha moved out of the way as he sensed Morgunov try to blitz him from behind. He circled around behind Father, hoping that the Mad Demon would at least be distracted for a few more moments by a desire to exchange words with his fellow emperor.
A hope which proved true.
“Dozy! It’s been too long! How are you, ya old fossil?!”
“Worse for seeing your face.”
“Aww! Don’t be like that! Your boy here and I brought you a present! Ever heard of Kallmakk the Nightspinner?!”
“Yes.”
“Oh. Wait, really? That kinda ruins the surprise, man. Couldn’t you have at least pretended to--”
A dark beam ripped through the encampment, leaving behind a string of black-and-purple explosions that sent soldiers and debris into the air.
Instead, he found Father at the center of a large gathering. Soldiers sat in large groups, feasting at long, hulking tables filled with tall, blazing braziers and ample food and drink. The raucous laughter in the air began to die out as many familiar faces began to notice his presence.
If he hadn’t known Father as well as he did, Gohvis-Aeha might have thought they were celebrating some great victory, but this was actually quite a regular sight. Father loved his banquets. He was always finding excuses to treat himself and his men to lavish, hearty meals whenever possible. Claimed it was good for both morale and recruitment--which was probably true.
The Prime found it to be a rather obnoxious and wasteful habit, but Father always countered by arguing what was the point in conquering the world if one didn’t indulge in the excesses that said world could provide?
When Gohvis-Aeha finally laid eyes on Father, the man was already looking back at him and standing up from a chair that was so ornate and golden that it might as well have been a throne.
Then the ambient laughter truly died out as all eyes turned to Father, who sighed.
“What mess have you brought me?” said the old emperor.
First things first. He had to shift blame. “Morgunov picked a fight with a feldeath.”
Fortunately, Father had no time to get mad at him, which he must have realized, because he immediately shouted to his men. “Battle stations! Defend the camp!”
And everyone began scrambling. Father’s surrounding officers scattered to go organize and lead their individual sects.
Gohvis-Aeha moved out of the way as he sensed Morgunov try to blitz him from behind. He circled around behind Father, hoping that the Mad Demon would at least be distracted for a few more moments by a desire to exchange words with his fellow emperor.
A hope which proved true.
“Dozy! It’s been too long! How are you, ya old fossil?!”
“Worse for seeing your face.”
“Aww! Don’t be like that! Your boy here and I brought you a present! Ever heard of Kallmakk the Nightspinner?!”
“Yes.”
“Oh. Wait, really? That kinda ruins the surprise, man. Couldn’t you have at least pretended to--”
A dark beam ripped through the encampment, leaving behind a string of black-and-purple explosions that sent soldiers and debris into the air.
Thursday, June 13, 2024
Page 3608
These were not things that he had the luxury of dwelling on, right now. He had to put them out of his mind. To stay focused on the task at hand.
Germal wasn’t making it any easier, though. ‘I sensed that, Master. You saved that man just now, didn’t you? Even as you protest, you continue to prove my point. You care for this world and its inhabitants deeply.’
What an irritating conversation. He wished one of those Roberts would get close to provide a meaningful distraction again.
Germal just kept going. ‘I’ve always been able to sense your compassion, Master. You try to keep it buried. I know not why. But it has been there for as long as I have known you. In fact, I believe it is the very reason why you granted me the honor of getting to know you in the first place. And yet... here and now... I sense it more strongly in you than ever before. You are not trying nearly as hard to hide it, anymore. How curious...’
Gohvis-Aeha said nothing. While it was true that the Prime had created this powerful psychic cloning technique by studying Germal’s multiple personality disorder, it had also never really been clear how much Germal himself had been able to discern about what the Prime had been doing. And naturally, the Prime had never bothered to explain this technique to anyone.
‘Master, have you managed to evolve your projections still further?’
Well, he definitely wasn’t going to answer that. The Prime would be furious.
Germal kept nattering as the chase drew out, and Gohvis-Aeha continued to ignore him. Even as the landscape began to the change and the Giants of Jaskadan, as the trees were commonly known, came into view, Germal still did not let up. Only the subject matter shifted, as the Liar started questioning where they were going and why.
Thankfully, it didn’t take much longer after that in order to finally reach Father’s encampment. The massive swaths of deforested land made it rather obvious that they were quite close.
Now it was just a matter of getting to Father and warning him before Kallmakk began running amok through his mobile fortresses. The man was not going to be pleased about that, but there was no helping it.
Ah. There. He sensed Father’s location and went straight for it like a lightning bolt, zigzagging through various troops on standby and probably knocking a few of them up into the air by accident as he passed, thanks to the wind tunnel being left in his wake.
Oh well. They were servants. They’d be fine.
Germal wasn’t making it any easier, though. ‘I sensed that, Master. You saved that man just now, didn’t you? Even as you protest, you continue to prove my point. You care for this world and its inhabitants deeply.’
What an irritating conversation. He wished one of those Roberts would get close to provide a meaningful distraction again.
Germal just kept going. ‘I’ve always been able to sense your compassion, Master. You try to keep it buried. I know not why. But it has been there for as long as I have known you. In fact, I believe it is the very reason why you granted me the honor of getting to know you in the first place. And yet... here and now... I sense it more strongly in you than ever before. You are not trying nearly as hard to hide it, anymore. How curious...’
Gohvis-Aeha said nothing. While it was true that the Prime had created this powerful psychic cloning technique by studying Germal’s multiple personality disorder, it had also never really been clear how much Germal himself had been able to discern about what the Prime had been doing. And naturally, the Prime had never bothered to explain this technique to anyone.
‘Master, have you managed to evolve your projections still further?’
Well, he definitely wasn’t going to answer that. The Prime would be furious.
Germal kept nattering as the chase drew out, and Gohvis-Aeha continued to ignore him. Even as the landscape began to the change and the Giants of Jaskadan, as the trees were commonly known, came into view, Germal still did not let up. Only the subject matter shifted, as the Liar started questioning where they were going and why.
Thankfully, it didn’t take much longer after that in order to finally reach Father’s encampment. The massive swaths of deforested land made it rather obvious that they were quite close.
Now it was just a matter of getting to Father and warning him before Kallmakk began running amok through his mobile fortresses. The man was not going to be pleased about that, but there was no helping it.
Ah. There. He sensed Father’s location and went straight for it like a lightning bolt, zigzagging through various troops on standby and probably knocking a few of them up into the air by accident as he passed, thanks to the wind tunnel being left in his wake.
Oh well. They were servants. They’d be fine.
Wednesday, June 12, 2024
Page 3607
Which was part of the reason why he was hoping now that Father might be able to broker a peace with Morgunov for the Liar’s life.
But it was always impossible to tell what Father was truly thinking. Perhaps he merely thought them useful and wanted them to think that he had a soft spot for them. In fact, that was most likely the case.
Here and now, however, during this tentative downtime in the battle, Gohvis-Aeha was thinking that there was little point in trying to argue with Germal about any of this. Boy, did he want to, though.
No, he should focus on gathering as much information for the Prime as he could for when they eventually reconvened. The Prime could be the one to pass judgment on Germal. Or Father, perhaps.
Ah.
Iceheart seemed to be getting antsy. No doubt, being closest to the raging feldeath in this chase made for a rather uncomfortable position. Gohvis-Aeha almost felt sympathy for the man, especially because the marshal still had subordinates that he was trying to keep safe.
With his predictive atmospheric senses, Gohvis-Aeha could all but see the unfolding mayhem back there. A whirlwind of ice, tossing Vanguardians haphazardly out of Kallmakk’s path--including Iceheart himself, who still got clipped by a dark beam and lost a leg, only to replace it with an icy one a moment later.
Hmph.
Foolish Vanguardians. Throwing their lives away. Too young for this fight, most of them. He couldn’t even recall any of their names. Maybe he could’ve, if he accessed the network, but that was still too dangerous to attempt. He needed every ounce of situational awareness, right now.
One of them caught a pitch black tendril across the torso and went flying. Unfortunate timing. Iceheart was too busy avoiding another three beams at once. That one who got sent flying was doomed. He could sense another tendril materializing from Kallmakk’s back. It was almost certainly going to morph into a mouth and devour that poor bastard before he even touched the ground again.
Gohvis-Aeha’s right eye shimmered, then winked.
The black tendril that he knew would appear did so, but it exploded apart in midair before it could reach the hapless Vanguardian. Instead of getting eaten, the battered man hit the ground rolling and quickly fell behind in the chase, disappearing from Gohvis-Aeha’s sight.
Perhaps he was the foolish one. Why had he done that? The Prime wouldn’t have bothered. The Vanguardians were idiots for thinking they could rely on him at all. They deserved to reap the consequences of their idiocy, didn’t they?
Ugh.
But it was always impossible to tell what Father was truly thinking. Perhaps he merely thought them useful and wanted them to think that he had a soft spot for them. In fact, that was most likely the case.
Here and now, however, during this tentative downtime in the battle, Gohvis-Aeha was thinking that there was little point in trying to argue with Germal about any of this. Boy, did he want to, though.
No, he should focus on gathering as much information for the Prime as he could for when they eventually reconvened. The Prime could be the one to pass judgment on Germal. Or Father, perhaps.
Ah.
Iceheart seemed to be getting antsy. No doubt, being closest to the raging feldeath in this chase made for a rather uncomfortable position. Gohvis-Aeha almost felt sympathy for the man, especially because the marshal still had subordinates that he was trying to keep safe.
With his predictive atmospheric senses, Gohvis-Aeha could all but see the unfolding mayhem back there. A whirlwind of ice, tossing Vanguardians haphazardly out of Kallmakk’s path--including Iceheart himself, who still got clipped by a dark beam and lost a leg, only to replace it with an icy one a moment later.
Hmph.
Foolish Vanguardians. Throwing their lives away. Too young for this fight, most of them. He couldn’t even recall any of their names. Maybe he could’ve, if he accessed the network, but that was still too dangerous to attempt. He needed every ounce of situational awareness, right now.
One of them caught a pitch black tendril across the torso and went flying. Unfortunate timing. Iceheart was too busy avoiding another three beams at once. That one who got sent flying was doomed. He could sense another tendril materializing from Kallmakk’s back. It was almost certainly going to morph into a mouth and devour that poor bastard before he even touched the ground again.
Gohvis-Aeha’s right eye shimmered, then winked.
The black tendril that he knew would appear did so, but it exploded apart in midair before it could reach the hapless Vanguardian. Instead of getting eaten, the battered man hit the ground rolling and quickly fell behind in the chase, disappearing from Gohvis-Aeha’s sight.
Perhaps he was the foolish one. Why had he done that? The Prime wouldn’t have bothered. The Vanguardians were idiots for thinking they could rely on him at all. They deserved to reap the consequences of their idiocy, didn’t they?
Ugh.
Tuesday, June 11, 2024
Monday, June 10, 2024
Page 3606
‘What difference should that make?’ said Germal. ‘If anything, that should worry you even more, because it’s a testament to just how persistent he is.’
He supposed the Liar had a point. Hmm. What would the Prime say here?
Egh, what difference did it make? The mission was clear enough. There was no utility in debate. Perhaps he should say as much. And remind Germal how much of a nuisance he was.
But no. Gohvis-Aeha decided to remain silent. Heh. Yeah. That was probably what the Prime would’ve done, anyway. Ignore useless conversations.
Germal kept pushing, however. ‘Please, Master. You must see the danger. He will come to view us as useful materials for his Omnivore Drive--and other experiments, I am sure. Our ability to manifest new powers is unlike any of the others. And if that project succeeds, then those machines will become an existential threat to not just us but to all mankind.’
‘Aha.’ He could not stay quiet at that. ‘So it is a matter of protecting mankind now, is it? How terribly noble of you.’
‘I know you care for them, Master. Do not pretend otherwise. That may have its uses when talking to your contemporaries, especially within Abolish, but there is no need for that with me. That should be obvious by now, no?’
Hmph. Obvious. When it came to Germal, nothing was ever obvious.
But the man was no doubt referring to the founding of the Freeman Fellowship. Germal had done that at great personal cost to his reputation among his peers--to the point, even, that he had begun attempting to hide his own involvement in order to prevent his credibility from continuing to deteriorate.
But there was a game there. Gohvis-Aeha had no doubt of that. It was clear enough that Germal had been planning Morgunov’s assassination for a very long time now. And while the Fellowship may not have played an obvious role in this attempt here, there were any number of ways that Germal might have been using it behind the scenes--or for some other obnoxious purpose, perhaps.
After all, if Morgunov was deemed an existential threat to humanity, then surely Father should also be considered one, no?
Logically, that followed.
But then again, Father and the Fellowship had a curious relationship. On more than one occasion, the Prime had seen him showing... what seemed to be affection toward them. And Germal, too.
He supposed the Liar had a point. Hmm. What would the Prime say here?
Egh, what difference did it make? The mission was clear enough. There was no utility in debate. Perhaps he should say as much. And remind Germal how much of a nuisance he was.
But no. Gohvis-Aeha decided to remain silent. Heh. Yeah. That was probably what the Prime would’ve done, anyway. Ignore useless conversations.
Germal kept pushing, however. ‘Please, Master. You must see the danger. He will come to view us as useful materials for his Omnivore Drive--and other experiments, I am sure. Our ability to manifest new powers is unlike any of the others. And if that project succeeds, then those machines will become an existential threat to not just us but to all mankind.’
‘Aha.’ He could not stay quiet at that. ‘So it is a matter of protecting mankind now, is it? How terribly noble of you.’
‘I know you care for them, Master. Do not pretend otherwise. That may have its uses when talking to your contemporaries, especially within Abolish, but there is no need for that with me. That should be obvious by now, no?’
Hmph. Obvious. When it came to Germal, nothing was ever obvious.
But the man was no doubt referring to the founding of the Freeman Fellowship. Germal had done that at great personal cost to his reputation among his peers--to the point, even, that he had begun attempting to hide his own involvement in order to prevent his credibility from continuing to deteriorate.
But there was a game there. Gohvis-Aeha had no doubt of that. It was clear enough that Germal had been planning Morgunov’s assassination for a very long time now. And while the Fellowship may not have played an obvious role in this attempt here, there were any number of ways that Germal might have been using it behind the scenes--or for some other obnoxious purpose, perhaps.
After all, if Morgunov was deemed an existential threat to humanity, then surely Father should also be considered one, no?
Logically, that followed.
But then again, Father and the Fellowship had a curious relationship. On more than one occasion, the Prime had seen him showing... what seemed to be affection toward them. And Germal, too.
Sunday, June 9, 2024
Page 3605
Gohvis-Aeha took the opportunity to reassess the state of the chase while he waited for Germal to regain his composure.
One of Morgunov’s Roberts was getting closer, he noticed. The Vanguardians were keeping up fairly well, and Kallmakk, all the way at the rear, seemed to have calmed, somewhat, if only to focus on the chase, but there was definitely something brewing back there, too. He could sense a worrying buildup of ardor. If he didn’t pay attention, that could turn into a very big problem.
Bah. He was going to be very annoyed if Kallmakk ended up killing Morgunov in the middle of this chase, while he was more focused on protecting Germal. Surely, the Mad Demon would not be that sloppy.
Egh...
‘Master,’ came Germal’s voice. ‘What did Jonah say to you?’
‘Doesn’t matter. Answer my question. Why do you think Morgunov is a threat to mutants? He has never expressed any desire to harm us. Only study us. And even that has been rather fleeting, compared to his other interests.’
‘That is merely the way his mind works, Master. You know this as well as I. His interest in a given subject ebbs and flows. Make no mistake. He WILL come back around to us. And when he does, it will not be for some relaxed academic exchange with you. He will seek to enthrall as many of our kind as possible for his experiments. To make our power his own. And merge it with his abominable machines.’
He might’ve argued the point, but one of those same abominable machines was now getting even closer to his position.
Too close.
He sent a quick telekinetic wave in its direction, just trying to knock it off course and slow it down.
But it dodged his attack and continued to inch closer.
Annoying.
He decided to pick up the pace, instead. Just a bit.
Germal kept on talking in the meantime. ‘I’ve read his mind, Master. It was difficult, but I was able to discern some of his plans. One of them is to complete work on something called an Omnivore Drive, which will allow his machines to grow more powerful by consuming the flesh of those he feeds to them.’
Well, that certainly sounded believable. Morgunov would absolutely work on a project like that.
Gohvis-Aeha did have a counterargument, though. ‘Do you have any idea how many failed experiments that man has conducted since I’ve known him?’
One of Morgunov’s Roberts was getting closer, he noticed. The Vanguardians were keeping up fairly well, and Kallmakk, all the way at the rear, seemed to have calmed, somewhat, if only to focus on the chase, but there was definitely something brewing back there, too. He could sense a worrying buildup of ardor. If he didn’t pay attention, that could turn into a very big problem.
Bah. He was going to be very annoyed if Kallmakk ended up killing Morgunov in the middle of this chase, while he was more focused on protecting Germal. Surely, the Mad Demon would not be that sloppy.
Egh...
‘Master,’ came Germal’s voice. ‘What did Jonah say to you?’
‘Doesn’t matter. Answer my question. Why do you think Morgunov is a threat to mutants? He has never expressed any desire to harm us. Only study us. And even that has been rather fleeting, compared to his other interests.’
‘That is merely the way his mind works, Master. You know this as well as I. His interest in a given subject ebbs and flows. Make no mistake. He WILL come back around to us. And when he does, it will not be for some relaxed academic exchange with you. He will seek to enthrall as many of our kind as possible for his experiments. To make our power his own. And merge it with his abominable machines.’
He might’ve argued the point, but one of those same abominable machines was now getting even closer to his position.
Too close.
He sent a quick telekinetic wave in its direction, just trying to knock it off course and slow it down.
But it dodged his attack and continued to inch closer.
Annoying.
He decided to pick up the pace, instead. Just a bit.
Germal kept on talking in the meantime. ‘I’ve read his mind, Master. It was difficult, but I was able to discern some of his plans. One of them is to complete work on something called an Omnivore Drive, which will allow his machines to grow more powerful by consuming the flesh of those he feeds to them.’
Well, that certainly sounded believable. Morgunov would absolutely work on a project like that.
Gohvis-Aeha did have a counterargument, though. ‘Do you have any idea how many failed experiments that man has conducted since I’ve known him?’
Friday, June 7, 2024
Thursday, June 6, 2024
Page 3604
‘I understand,’ said Gohvis-Aeha. He didn’t, really. But with the Prime having experienced this so many times before, he knew that it was better to keep this one talking, rather than trying to relate or sympathize or pose questions that diverted the train of thought. These days, this personality seemed to be the less dominant one. It only popped up when it was feeling quite strongly about something.
‘Of course you do, Master! I’ve missed you! Thank you for everything!’
‘You’re very welcome, Jonah. It is good to hear from you again.’
More laughter. ‘I’ve done it, Master! I beat him! The abomination! I finally got one over on him! He didn’t see it coming until it was too late! Kehehe!’
Interesting. He still didn’t quite understand, but inquiring further wasn’t the right strategy. ‘That’s good to hear. I’m proud of you, lad.’
And there was yet more laughter, lasting even longer this time.
How strange. By Gohvis-Aeha’s estimation, that laughter carried with it a sense of genuine relief, not malicious delight as he had first thought.
But perhaps that was reasonable. The Prime had never known Jonah to be malicious in any way, other than towards Germal. Or himself. That was one of the most confusing things about this personality. It seemed to hate both its counterpart and itself, and yet it also seemed to love life as a whole. It had often expressed a desire to explore and see the world.
And it was gentle as a lamb, as well, which may have contributed to why the other personality had become so dominant by comparison.
Gohvis-Aeha wished he could consult the Prime’s memories more deeply and check how long it had been since he’d last spoken to Jonah. He had a feeling that it had been many years, though he wasn’t at all certain.
‘It’s not hopeless, after all, Master! They haven’t won yet!’
The temptation to ask for clarification was truly strong now, but he resisted. ‘Of course they haven’t. I told you that long ago, did I not?’
‘You did! Yes, you did! Truthfully, I don’t think I quite believed! I’m sorry, Master! I believe you now!’
‘I’m glad to hear that.’
‘Ah... what a great day. Mm. Master. I can feel myself fading. I’m sorry I can’t be more help. Don’t be fooled by his lies. He’s not as confused, anymore. He doesn’t follow you. He’ll--’
The thrashing returned, informing him that Germal was taking control again.
‘Of course you do, Master! I’ve missed you! Thank you for everything!’
‘You’re very welcome, Jonah. It is good to hear from you again.’
More laughter. ‘I’ve done it, Master! I beat him! The abomination! I finally got one over on him! He didn’t see it coming until it was too late! Kehehe!’
Interesting. He still didn’t quite understand, but inquiring further wasn’t the right strategy. ‘That’s good to hear. I’m proud of you, lad.’
And there was yet more laughter, lasting even longer this time.
How strange. By Gohvis-Aeha’s estimation, that laughter carried with it a sense of genuine relief, not malicious delight as he had first thought.
But perhaps that was reasonable. The Prime had never known Jonah to be malicious in any way, other than towards Germal. Or himself. That was one of the most confusing things about this personality. It seemed to hate both its counterpart and itself, and yet it also seemed to love life as a whole. It had often expressed a desire to explore and see the world.
And it was gentle as a lamb, as well, which may have contributed to why the other personality had become so dominant by comparison.
Gohvis-Aeha wished he could consult the Prime’s memories more deeply and check how long it had been since he’d last spoken to Jonah. He had a feeling that it had been many years, though he wasn’t at all certain.
‘It’s not hopeless, after all, Master! They haven’t won yet!’
The temptation to ask for clarification was truly strong now, but he resisted. ‘Of course they haven’t. I told you that long ago, did I not?’
‘You did! Yes, you did! Truthfully, I don’t think I quite believed! I’m sorry, Master! I believe you now!’
‘I’m glad to hear that.’
‘Ah... what a great day. Mm. Master. I can feel myself fading. I’m sorry I can’t be more help. Don’t be fooled by his lies. He’s not as confused, anymore. He doesn’t follow you. He’ll--’
The thrashing returned, informing him that Germal was taking control again.
Wednesday, June 5, 2024
Page 3603
‘What work is so important that it requires the Demon be kept alive?’ asked Germal. ‘That man is an existential threat to our kind, Master.’
Gohvis-Aeha cocked an eyebrow at that but said nothing. There was no reason to answer Germal’s question, especially after getting a glimpse of just how much the Liar had been hiding from him this whole time.
Germal kept going. If you do not kill him now, then you will have to do so sooner or later. It is inevitable, Master. And it only become more difficult the longer we wait, as he continues to develop new technological menaces. You have seen what his “Roberts” are capable of firsthand, yes? Imagine much how more trouble they will become in even just twenty years, if he continues to refine them.’
The draconic projection wanted to laugh. ‘What makes you think he is a threat to our kind?’
‘I don’t think--’
He felt the Liar twist and flail in his grip. If he didn’t know better, he might’ve thought the man was trying to wriggle free.
There was risk of that, though, and Germal would have known that.
No, this was something else.
The personalities were fighting again.
The Prime had seen this many times, though not in recent years. It had been particularly prevalent at the beginning of Germal’s apprenticeship, to the point where the Prime had labored daily with the boy for months in order to help him get his mind under control.
When the thrashing stopped, psychic laughter arrived. ‘Give up, you abominable fool! It’s my win! The Mad Demon is forever against you now! Forever on OUR side!’ And the laughter continued.
What in the world? That voice wasn’t talking to him, Gohvis-Aeha felt. Both personalities within Germal revered the Prime and would never speak to him in such a manner.
He might’ve liked to hear what the other personality had to say in response, but this one seemed to be full in control, at the moment, so there was no hope of that.
‘Ah! Master! Apologies! Please don’t mind my gloating.’ A few chortles still persisted, however.
‘You seem quite pleased with yourself.’
‘Oh, if only you knew, Master. How I wish I could explain everything in its entirety! But I lack the words. And the cohesion. And the time. Oh, the time. The damn time! It’s never enough, Master! Never!’
Gohvis-Aeha cocked an eyebrow at that but said nothing. There was no reason to answer Germal’s question, especially after getting a glimpse of just how much the Liar had been hiding from him this whole time.
Germal kept going. If you do not kill him now, then you will have to do so sooner or later. It is inevitable, Master. And it only become more difficult the longer we wait, as he continues to develop new technological menaces. You have seen what his “Roberts” are capable of firsthand, yes? Imagine much how more trouble they will become in even just twenty years, if he continues to refine them.’
The draconic projection wanted to laugh. ‘What makes you think he is a threat to our kind?’
‘I don’t think--’
He felt the Liar twist and flail in his grip. If he didn’t know better, he might’ve thought the man was trying to wriggle free.
There was risk of that, though, and Germal would have known that.
No, this was something else.
The personalities were fighting again.
The Prime had seen this many times, though not in recent years. It had been particularly prevalent at the beginning of Germal’s apprenticeship, to the point where the Prime had labored daily with the boy for months in order to help him get his mind under control.
When the thrashing stopped, psychic laughter arrived. ‘Give up, you abominable fool! It’s my win! The Mad Demon is forever against you now! Forever on OUR side!’ And the laughter continued.
What in the world? That voice wasn’t talking to him, Gohvis-Aeha felt. Both personalities within Germal revered the Prime and would never speak to him in such a manner.
He might’ve liked to hear what the other personality had to say in response, but this one seemed to be full in control, at the moment, so there was no hope of that.
‘Ah! Master! Apologies! Please don’t mind my gloating.’ A few chortles still persisted, however.
‘You seem quite pleased with yourself.’
‘Oh, if only you knew, Master. How I wish I could explain everything in its entirety! But I lack the words. And the cohesion. And the time. Oh, the time. The damn time! It’s never enough, Master! Never!’
Tuesday, June 4, 2024
Page 3602
It worked like a charm. Soon, Morgunov was the one giving chase while Gohvis-Aeha led the way.
As a result, a new lull in the fighting arrived as the Vanguardians struggled to keep pace while also fending off Kallmakk’s attacks from the rear. Rarely did those same attacks reach all the way up to Gohvis-Aeha’s position.
The main worry was simply paying enough attention to what Morgunov and his robots were up to. Perhaps the madman was hesitant to turn on him fully and threaten their neutral attitudes toward one another for the remainder of this battle, but he doubted that hesitation would last forever. Morgunov was not renowned for his patience or self-control.
The land at his feet became a blur as he sped across the wilderness. He no longer even felt like he was making contact with the ground while he ran. He might as well have been sailing over water.
He considered slowing down, in case Morgunov needed it, but that didn’t appear to be the case. How was he doing that? Probably yet another of his hidden inventions. Koh certainly wasn’t having trouble, though Gohvis-Aeha couldn’t tell if the wolf was chasing after him now or still Morgunov.
At length, Germal’s telepathic voice arrived. ‘Master,’ he said. ‘Please, release me. You need not go to such lengths in order to protect me from the Demon. I came to this fight prepared.’
‘Hmph, if only it were that simple,’ answered Gohvis-Aeha.
‘Your interference in our battle makes little sense, Master. Why do you seek to protect him? I have never known you to have any affection for him or his cronies. I thought your disgust with Vanderberk stemmed as much from the Demon as from the Weasel himself.’
He might have sighed if he wasn’t already utilizing the full capacity of his psychically projected lungs. ‘This is what you get for making a move without first informing me. If this has been your plan of many years, then you should have consulted me. We probably could have come to some sort of agreement and avoided this whole mess.’
‘...Truly?’
‘Truly. But now my hand is forced, and I must move to protect my own interests before they are destroyed. There is much work that would be lost, if I let you kill him. Not that I believe you would have managed to do so, mind you.’
As a result, a new lull in the fighting arrived as the Vanguardians struggled to keep pace while also fending off Kallmakk’s attacks from the rear. Rarely did those same attacks reach all the way up to Gohvis-Aeha’s position.
The main worry was simply paying enough attention to what Morgunov and his robots were up to. Perhaps the madman was hesitant to turn on him fully and threaten their neutral attitudes toward one another for the remainder of this battle, but he doubted that hesitation would last forever. Morgunov was not renowned for his patience or self-control.
The land at his feet became a blur as he sped across the wilderness. He no longer even felt like he was making contact with the ground while he ran. He might as well have been sailing over water.
He considered slowing down, in case Morgunov needed it, but that didn’t appear to be the case. How was he doing that? Probably yet another of his hidden inventions. Koh certainly wasn’t having trouble, though Gohvis-Aeha couldn’t tell if the wolf was chasing after him now or still Morgunov.
At length, Germal’s telepathic voice arrived. ‘Master,’ he said. ‘Please, release me. You need not go to such lengths in order to protect me from the Demon. I came to this fight prepared.’
‘Hmph, if only it were that simple,’ answered Gohvis-Aeha.
‘Your interference in our battle makes little sense, Master. Why do you seek to protect him? I have never known you to have any affection for him or his cronies. I thought your disgust with Vanderberk stemmed as much from the Demon as from the Weasel himself.’
He might have sighed if he wasn’t already utilizing the full capacity of his psychically projected lungs. ‘This is what you get for making a move without first informing me. If this has been your plan of many years, then you should have consulted me. We probably could have come to some sort of agreement and avoided this whole mess.’
‘...Truly?’
‘Truly. But now my hand is forced, and I must move to protect my own interests before they are destroyed. There is much work that would be lost, if I let you kill him. Not that I believe you would have managed to do so, mind you.’
Monday, June 3, 2024
Page 3601
Father had told the Prime in no uncertain terms that he did not wish to get involved in this war, so Gohvis-Aeha had no doubt that Father would be supremely pissed off about being pulled into it.
Which could be a problem. For both himself and for the Prime.
But would Father even realize that this was his doing? He couldn’t be blamed if it just seemed like a coincidence. In fact, if anyone was going to receive Father’s blame here, it would almost certainly be Morgunov.
And better still, Father was perhaps the only one in the world who could talk any amount of sense into Morgunov, thereby saving Germal’s life.
Admittedly, that might’ve been a bit overly optimistic, but in Gohvis-Aeha’s opinion, no other path forward afforded even the slightest chance of such an outcome.
So that was the decision made.
The problem then became how he would actually make it happen. In actual practice, the notion that he could “steer” this battlefield somewhere was perhaps more ambitious than he’d realized.
Morgunov was the focal point. The Vanguardians were chasing him. And Kallmakk was constantly disrupting that, creating openings for the Mad Demon.
So the task here was... what, then? To force Morgunov in a certain direction?
Impossible.
The man could not be led by force. And trying to do so would likely make Morgunov think that he'd turned on him, which might prompt even more erratic behavior from the madman.
But again, this chase was a curious thing. Morgunov may have been leading it, but was he truly trying to escape?
Gohvis-Aeha could make a wager. Morgunov wanted Germal dead, yes? So carrying Germal away might prompt Morgunov to change up and give chase, instead. And Germal was much more manageable as a kidnappee than Morgunov.
So that was what he did.
He waited for another opening, which Kallmakk soon provided.
A great pillar of black energy dug a volcanic trench into the ground, leaving a chain of explosions, smoke, and molten earth in its wake as it ripped all the way into the horizon. Everyone on the field had to disperse in order to dodge it, with several not succeeding.
Gohis-Aeha knew he had to be precise with his movements here. The distraction was a bit too good, honestly. He might’ve been able to grab Germal here and get away entirely without Morgunov even noticing.
Which was a thought. Hmm. Would that be the better option?
Agh. Maybe. He could mull it over later. Better to stick with the plan, for now.
He blitzed across the sundered field and scooped up the Liar of Lyste like a sack of potatoes. Then he made sure to run by Morgunov, giving him a nice view of the prize.
Which could be a problem. For both himself and for the Prime.
But would Father even realize that this was his doing? He couldn’t be blamed if it just seemed like a coincidence. In fact, if anyone was going to receive Father’s blame here, it would almost certainly be Morgunov.
And better still, Father was perhaps the only one in the world who could talk any amount of sense into Morgunov, thereby saving Germal’s life.
Admittedly, that might’ve been a bit overly optimistic, but in Gohvis-Aeha’s opinion, no other path forward afforded even the slightest chance of such an outcome.
So that was the decision made.
The problem then became how he would actually make it happen. In actual practice, the notion that he could “steer” this battlefield somewhere was perhaps more ambitious than he’d realized.
Morgunov was the focal point. The Vanguardians were chasing him. And Kallmakk was constantly disrupting that, creating openings for the Mad Demon.
So the task here was... what, then? To force Morgunov in a certain direction?
Impossible.
The man could not be led by force. And trying to do so would likely make Morgunov think that he'd turned on him, which might prompt even more erratic behavior from the madman.
But again, this chase was a curious thing. Morgunov may have been leading it, but was he truly trying to escape?
Gohvis-Aeha could make a wager. Morgunov wanted Germal dead, yes? So carrying Germal away might prompt Morgunov to change up and give chase, instead. And Germal was much more manageable as a kidnappee than Morgunov.
So that was what he did.
He waited for another opening, which Kallmakk soon provided.
A great pillar of black energy dug a volcanic trench into the ground, leaving a chain of explosions, smoke, and molten earth in its wake as it ripped all the way into the horizon. Everyone on the field had to disperse in order to dodge it, with several not succeeding.
Gohis-Aeha knew he had to be precise with his movements here. The distraction was a bit too good, honestly. He might’ve been able to grab Germal here and get away entirely without Morgunov even noticing.
Which was a thought. Hmm. Would that be the better option?
Agh. Maybe. He could mull it over later. Better to stick with the plan, for now.
He blitzed across the sundered field and scooped up the Liar of Lyste like a sack of potatoes. Then he made sure to run by Morgunov, giving him a nice view of the prize.
Sunday, June 2, 2024
Page 3600
It was a strange position to be in, he knew. If he did nothing here, then he had a rather strong feeling that, eventually, Morgunov would either escape or even turn the tables on the Vanguardians here. And judging by the man’s aura, by what a furious inferno it was, the latter possibility was seeming quite likely indeed.
Did Morgunov even wish to escape? Or was killing Germal his foremost priority now?
Gohvis-Aeha couldn’t allow that to happen, either.
Additionally, there were the vast distances to take into consideration. This battle here, while theoretically part of the Second Continental War, was not actually taking place on the Eloan continent like all the others. So if he meant to drag this battle over to one of those, it would mean crossing one of the oceans first--while the feldeath continued to give chase, no less.
Would that even be possible?
Well, yes, of course it would. An ocean wouldn’t stop Kallmakk, nor Morgunov, nor Koh, nor Germal... but Iceheart and the rest of the Vanguardians?
Some of them would probably get left behind. Which would gradually weaken them, further strengthening Morgunov’s position and diminishing Germal’s. There were also aerial dogfights still taking place over the Luthic. That probably wouldn’t be an issue, but there were a few pilots in the world who could make it one.
All in all, not ideal.
There were two other options, though.
Instead of bringing this fight to one of the other warfronts, he could bring it to the Prime. That would certainly mix things up. The Prime would probably be quite displeased with him, but at the moment, he was quite displeased with the Prime, too, so maybe that would only be fair.
For some reason, however, he found himself leaning away from that option. Why? There was scarcely enough opportunity to think all these things through, let alone dwell on his feelings about them. But it did bother him a bit. He wanted to return to the network, didn’t he? To reestablish the strongest connection possible? Going to the Prime was the easiest way to do that. Probably the smartest, too.
And yet he was reluctant. He wanted to find some other way. Miserable as he was, he didn’t want this to...
Ugh.
So what did that leave?
The last option. And perhaps worst. Or best, accounting for distance.
He could bring the battle to Father.
Did Morgunov even wish to escape? Or was killing Germal his foremost priority now?
Gohvis-Aeha couldn’t allow that to happen, either.
Additionally, there were the vast distances to take into consideration. This battle here, while theoretically part of the Second Continental War, was not actually taking place on the Eloan continent like all the others. So if he meant to drag this battle over to one of those, it would mean crossing one of the oceans first--while the feldeath continued to give chase, no less.
Would that even be possible?
Well, yes, of course it would. An ocean wouldn’t stop Kallmakk, nor Morgunov, nor Koh, nor Germal... but Iceheart and the rest of the Vanguardians?
Some of them would probably get left behind. Which would gradually weaken them, further strengthening Morgunov’s position and diminishing Germal’s. There were also aerial dogfights still taking place over the Luthic. That probably wouldn’t be an issue, but there were a few pilots in the world who could make it one.
All in all, not ideal.
There were two other options, though.
Instead of bringing this fight to one of the other warfronts, he could bring it to the Prime. That would certainly mix things up. The Prime would probably be quite displeased with him, but at the moment, he was quite displeased with the Prime, too, so maybe that would only be fair.
For some reason, however, he found himself leaning away from that option. Why? There was scarcely enough opportunity to think all these things through, let alone dwell on his feelings about them. But it did bother him a bit. He wanted to return to the network, didn’t he? To reestablish the strongest connection possible? Going to the Prime was the easiest way to do that. Probably the smartest, too.
And yet he was reluctant. He wanted to find some other way. Miserable as he was, he didn’t want this to...
Ugh.
So what did that leave?
The last option. And perhaps worst. Or best, accounting for distance.
He could bring the battle to Father.
Saturday, June 1, 2024
Page 3599
There’d been one particular battle, from the first so-called “Continental War” some hundred years prior, when the Prime’s abilities had been tested like never before. Over two months of continuous combat. And during the time, he saw countless servants being pushed to their limit by their reapers and beyond.
Until they broke.
It had been roughly the same story as here, actually, though it had instead been Dozer that the Vanguardians were feverishly trying to corner and kill. They’d nearly managed it, too, truth be told, but in the end, Father escaped.
And their many noble sacrifices had been for naught.
Though, it did bring the war to a rather swift conclusion. Father wisely decided to lay low while he recovered from that grueling ordeal, and peace broke out in the meantime.
By comparison, these Vanguardians here were already not looking very good after only a few days of combat. But perhaps that was an unfair assessment, considering they had been Morgunov’s prisoners for weeks beforehand, and there was no telling what sort of horrific treatment the madman had been putting them through.
Regardless, this couldn’t go on for much longer. Unless they somehow found replacements, Morgunov would outlast them. Maybe even without the feldeath’s help.
In that respect, Gohvis-Aeha could most certainly be of assistance. While his access to the network was tenuous and frequently getting interrupted, he did have a modest grasp of what was going on with some of the other warfronts.
Meaning he could try to steer this battle over to one of those.
But in service of which side?
Did he really want to assist the Vanguardians? The Prime had deployed him here in order to ensure Morgunov’s survival, though not out of any sense of duty or affection. The Prime wanted something from him and didn’t intend to let him die until he got it.
And yet, Gohvis-Aeha was also getting a faint impression that the others had already given Morgunov up for dead. That this was a lost cause. That the Mad Demon might as well be left to fend for himself at this point.
But his connection to the network wasn’t strong enough to be sure of that. If only he could find an opening to meditate for a few minutes.
Yeah. This was definitely the shittiest job alright.
But as the days drew out, he began to think that perhaps this giant mess did have one, singular upside. Something that took a while to truly appreciate.
If he didn’t have time to convene with the others or even consult the Prime, then that really only left one thing to do, didn’t it?
He had to make the decision himself.
He had to be... independent.
What an absolutely wondrous realization.
Until they broke.
It had been roughly the same story as here, actually, though it had instead been Dozer that the Vanguardians were feverishly trying to corner and kill. They’d nearly managed it, too, truth be told, but in the end, Father escaped.
And their many noble sacrifices had been for naught.
Though, it did bring the war to a rather swift conclusion. Father wisely decided to lay low while he recovered from that grueling ordeal, and peace broke out in the meantime.
By comparison, these Vanguardians here were already not looking very good after only a few days of combat. But perhaps that was an unfair assessment, considering they had been Morgunov’s prisoners for weeks beforehand, and there was no telling what sort of horrific treatment the madman had been putting them through.
Regardless, this couldn’t go on for much longer. Unless they somehow found replacements, Morgunov would outlast them. Maybe even without the feldeath’s help.
In that respect, Gohvis-Aeha could most certainly be of assistance. While his access to the network was tenuous and frequently getting interrupted, he did have a modest grasp of what was going on with some of the other warfronts.
Meaning he could try to steer this battle over to one of those.
But in service of which side?
Did he really want to assist the Vanguardians? The Prime had deployed him here in order to ensure Morgunov’s survival, though not out of any sense of duty or affection. The Prime wanted something from him and didn’t intend to let him die until he got it.
And yet, Gohvis-Aeha was also getting a faint impression that the others had already given Morgunov up for dead. That this was a lost cause. That the Mad Demon might as well be left to fend for himself at this point.
But his connection to the network wasn’t strong enough to be sure of that. If only he could find an opening to meditate for a few minutes.
Yeah. This was definitely the shittiest job alright.
But as the days drew out, he began to think that perhaps this giant mess did have one, singular upside. Something that took a while to truly appreciate.
If he didn’t have time to convene with the others or even consult the Prime, then that really only left one thing to do, didn’t it?
He had to make the decision himself.
He had to be... independent.
What an absolutely wondrous realization.
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