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But from what sparse reporting Graves’ men had given, Vantalay seemed to be largely secured now. Abolish was on the backfoot after Graves routed Vanderberk’s forces. Apparently, the Weasel himself managed to escape, thanks to the last-second intervention of Gohvis.

As ever, the Monster’s movements were a surprise. Jackson never could figure out when that son of a bitch would actually do something. He’d been dormant for so long that it seemed like the rest of the world had all but forgotten about him.

And now he was making international headlines again, though most of the news outlets apparently didn’t know that he was the reason behind all the volcanic eruptions.

It pained Jackson all the more to be on the sidelines, right now. He had to wonder if that had factored into the Monster’s reasoning.

Probably. Morgunov must have told him something about it. Or perhaps he’d just known. In that obnoxious way of his.

Jackson knew he needed to stop dwelling on it. Whenever he allowed himself to think about Gohvis, he again felt that temptation welling up. That inner voice telling him to let it all go. To just embrace Avar’s power and go set the world to rights.

Mrgh.

Bastard.

Of all the times to reemerge. They were long overdue for another fight.

No. He had to calm himself.

The war front in Sair was the worst off, and that was of course due to his own failure. His attempts to restructure things in the defense of the Wetlands had not gone over terribly well. They just didn’t have enough men left who could lead in the field. Without that, it was all the more difficult to strike that already tough balance of protecting civilian lives and also communication and supply lines.

Honestly, it was a wonder that Sair wasn’t already conquered. Apart from a few minor victories here and there, the remaining Vanguard forces had been in constant retreat. Jackson didn’t understand why Bloodeye hadn’t been pushing harder. It was like he was distracted.

Perhaps with the Sandlords? Reports about them were scant in detail, but it did seem unlikely that they would have been entirely defeated so quickly. They might have been giving him hell as best they could, still.

If only the scouts could make contact with them. Even just being able to confirm their survival would mean so much, right now.

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Regardless, that was a problem for another day. The other war fronts were in greater need of attention.

The defense of Hoss had started out horrifically, of course. The death of Carson was a blow that would not soon be forgotten, even if Kane and Grant seemed to have gotten things back under control. With Jercash’s forces routed, it was possible that not only Hoss had been saved but also Kavia, as well.

Jackson was hesitant about that conclusion, however.

Jercash had been in Kavia for months. By all reports, he and his men had had free rein in the capital, doing whatever the hell they pleased.

While it was possible that all they’d done during that time was celebrate their victory, Jackson had known Jercash for quite some time, now. And that man was not one to let an opportunity go to waste.

For that reason, Jackson had been taking an extra interest over there, keeping in constant contact with not only Kane and Grant but also many of their men.

The two of them didn’t always appreciate that. And he understood why, of course. Especially lately. His peers didn’t want him acting like their superior and ordering their men around.

Oddly enough, though, his poor condition seemed to be helping in that regard. He noticed the two of them behaving more empathetically toward him, if only a little. They probably realized that he wasn’t about to usurp or upstage anyone while he was in this state.

Hmm. Or maybe they were just worried about him. As much as they butted heads, it was sometimes easy to forget that they were all still the oldest of friends, when it came down to it.

How odd.

The Vantalayan war fronts were all sorts of curious. While he couldn’t say that Graves had mishandled things over there, it was certainly a mess and a half to keep track of. And it didn’t help that, out of all the marshals, Graves was the worst about keeping up with proper documentation.

Jackson had chastised him countless times and appointed dozens of secretaries and accountants over the years to help him manage everything, but it never seemed to do much good. Jackson didn’t think he’d ever met someone so disorganized. How that man’s divisions managed to get anything done at all, Jackson still did not know.

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Whether Fen could actually keep such a promise, Jackson was not sure. The Old Wardens were notorious throughout history for various reasons, not the least of which was their tendency to exile people from their community.

They were a curious bunch, to be sure. At various points, their reputation had gotten them into quite a bit of hot water, usually from excommunicated members looking to find a way back in or to simply take revenge.

Fairly recently, in fact, there’d been some confusion over whether or not they still existed. Rumors abounded that they’d been wiped out entirely, purportedly by some other enclave that they’d been feuding with for centuries.

None of that bad publicity ever seemed to impact their allure, though. Hell, it might’ve even helped it, in some ways.

Jackson couldn’t say that he fully understood the appeal, but then, he’d never personally visited the Old Wardens and seen what all the fuss was about with his own eyes. He’d only heard about the supposed wonders that they kept all to themselves.

Libraries and debate parlors. Research institutes and theaters. Pools of ethereal water that even reapers could bathe in and enjoy. And countless guarded secrets that even exiled members had not been privy to.

Hyozen, for his part, was one of the reapers who was not particularly impressed.

‘If even half of the things said about them are true,’ the reaper had told him once, ‘then their isolationism is the cruelest of insults to the rest of the world. Keeping such intellectual riches to themselves would serve no other purpose than to empower the few at the expense of the many.’

But then, Hyozen had also originated from a rival enclave, so his views weren’t exactly surprising.

‘Moreover,’ the reaper had gone on, ‘their exclusivity is extreme even by enclave standards. And whom does that serve? Not the world, certainly. The entire purpose of enclaves is to provide a safe environment for reaper families to nurture new generations in order to stave off our ever-dwindling numbers in the world at large. But if they never leave their enclave, then that purpose is moot.’

How Fen had managed to earn his way into their good graces, Jackson very much wanted to know. Assuming that was actually the truth, of course. Fen certainly wasn’t the type to lie, but it was still rather hard to believe.

If it was a lie, though, then whatever house of cards that man had been building over there wasn’t likely to last for much longer.

Which would at least be interesting to see, Jackson supposed. He just hoped it wouldn’t be because of how disastrous it ended up.