V12: Chapter 7

…

It was a good thing that I sent Khanrow ahead to infiltrate the Forgers, because he had to work quickly to stop the Forgers from not just holding the Citadel hostage but destroying it completely to spite us for their impending defeat.

Since they were going to lose, the Forgers decided that they should consign the world to one of the calamities that 'bested' the Ancients, rather than those who were 'lesser.'

Standard psychopathic behavior from the eugenicists, honestly.

Khanrow sent the information forward, and Celia deployed her own elite forces, her Divine Engine, and Citadel Guardians while the rest of the army caught up.

Since the Forgers didn't build their city around the Citadel but underground at the nearest mountain, it was 'easier' to siege. Not easier to break, since the Forgers had underground supply lines leading to the Citadel. The whole gimmick with the faction and their Citadel was that you basically had to put both the capital built into a mountain to siege while also sieging the Citadel. Both had fortifications that needed multiple turns to whittle down, and while they were being whittled down, their armies could attack from range for free inside while they produced Citadel Guardians.

If you didn't occupy and take over the towns and cities on your way, you'll also be hit with a lot of attrition while you're doing it. Underground raiders could also disrupt supply lines if you didn't have units dedicated to protecting them on the espionage layer. Those supply lines also had to feed two armies at a time, thus stressing the economy of the attacker along with their logistical capacity. Oh, and the Forgers can have two defensive champions working together, one at the Citadel and one at their capital, conferring both their bonuses at once to both locations.

Basically, to take the Forgers out, you need to besiege and defeat two heavily fortified fortress cities at once while protecting as guerrillas and leveraging all that you've built ahead of time.

Taking a Forger Citadel quickly required massive amounts of manpower and the willingness to lose a vast amount of it.

But taking the Citadel wasn't the point.

It was preventing it from falling, and putting it under siege achieved that.

Not to mention Celia had the advantage in a siege since she could just assail the Citadel and the Forger capital endlessly with undead chaff.

But I wasn't about to let Celia handle that all on her own.

With my reply letter to Khanrow, I authorized a plague unleashed on the Forgers in their crowded capital.

The same plague that I unleashed on the chattel of the crisis to kill as much of the labor force and cattle as possible.

I hadn't planned on doing it, but with them threatening to kill us all by destroying a Citadel?

Yeah, I wasn't going to let a threat like that slide.

Celia will throw a fit about this, most certainly, but she had plenty of labor at her disposal, and the Forgers probably just intended to use all the refugees as chemically enhanced penal battalions. Or, you know, parts and pieces of various war machines that'll do serious harm fighting in the tunnels.

There was no way she was just going to accept disease being used against the Forgers… But if she wanted to have a say in killing them, she should've had the armies needed to kill them herself.

I was just doing what I could with what I had.

…

Interlude: Khanrow

…

In a single letter, the death knell of the Forgers arrived.

"Our population of Forgers is stable and productive. Those who remain are not needed. Release the viral arsenal." I read it aloud, but I heard it in his voice. The same voice of a young man who would spend an immense number of resources to save refugees and give them a new home. A voice that would speak for the least of a people and that would grow harsh at any mention of impressing any number into servitude without recompense. "Their intention to destroy a Citadel at this juncture marks them as entities dedicated to only their victory and our demise. Thus, I give the order of the Forger of the Mountain's capital's complete destruction through our viral arsenal."

Jack's seal was on the bottom of the letter, along with his signature and even a droplet of his blood in a faintly glowing magical crest with his name writ upon it.

The death of nearly a million people in triplicate.

It was already in progress.

All the Iterants under my command heard it and began to act without my instruction. The war plan conducted by Riegert in his last expedition was evaluated, studied, and implemented for the task at hand. Refugees were replaced quietly from the onset of the invasion. They cut off their own limbs to get through the weighing scales used by the Forgers, using lighter wooden prosthetics, and at checkpoints that checked with needles, they used limbs from corpses sustained with magic. Some operated with just one arm to call their own, but they accepted the sacrifice without question.

No, if anything, they were glad to be able to give it in his service.

I thought I understood the length and breadth of their loyalty, but seeing them discard their own limbs silenced all those thoughts.

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They housed the viruses in their chest cavities as they infiltrated the Forger capital by the dozen.

A handful would stay behind to train more that arrived to follow Jack's command before going ahead.

When the gates were closed to refugees, with Celia arriving with the advance force, they prepared in force to enter through the sewage pipes. They tested, found every vulnerability, each one impossible for mortals to overcome, and moved against it. Tunnels constantly flooded with water they could swim through without pause. Grated within them, composed of thick bars, they were ready to chip away at in total darkness, and corridors meant for refuse they would trawl through without care.

No indignity could stop them.

No fear crossed their mind.

No hesitation clouded their hearts.

In his name, they would gladly suffer and toil.

Sometimes Jack joked that he didn't consider himself the ruler of the realm and that I remained some sort of hidden king.

It was a ludicrous idea, especially as hundreds of thousands of Iterants, and soon millions, would do this for him without a hint of hesitation.

Those inside will bide their time and regrow the limbs they cut off to save weight. They will hide amongst the populace and spread death and disease to people who we could've brought into the fold. Though they cherished the idea of being the children of the Ancients, of being creations entrusted with the future of the continent, they discarded that fact once Jack had asked.

There was no sacrifice too great for them to commit, nor any sin against Jack that they could ignore.

I looked once more at the letter in my hand.

It was incredibly light physically, but its true weight was beyond measure.

…

Interlude: Grimnar

…

The Guardians of the Moon were at our doorstep, putting our Citadel under siege, and I found myself patrolling the refugee quarters. Though the command came from a Trueborn, a misbegotten and idiotic part of me chafed as I walked through the halls of the lesser, instead of participating with others in cutting their lines of supply.

I cursed myself for my ill thoughts and made an oath to report them to my betters before refocusing on the refugee halls.

They were wallowing in their own filth. The vast hall allocated to them, made through the efforts of Trueborn mages, was filled with scrap huts. The Trueborn's mercy was being repaid. Many of them were being used and turned into soldiers and weapons. Those who performed well in their duty will have their family lines sanctified and sanctioned as good for development as auxiliaries.

But through the din and chatter of life in the hovel, there was something else.

The stench of a different death than I was used to.

I approached the nearest ration line and found someone with an iron band.

It was a Descendant, and he was lightly sick with a flush on his features, a dripping nose, and a small cough.

Many were coughing.

Some sort of flu?

I made a note to have the bodies studied and vaccinations prepared. Any risk to the Trueborn needed to be conveyed.

"Auxilia, state the status of this settlement. I am here on patrol." I showed him the markings engraved on my metal arm, and he bowed readily. Good and servile stock. Whoever appointed him as promising had a good eye. "Sickness seems to pervade it. Has it been reported?"

"Aye, my lord. A light sickness has come with us. It's been present. Since we've been traveling, really. We've been taking our medicine. They come with the rations." He gestured at those handing out bars and water. The nutrient blocks drew my attention. The phantom sensation of chewing came to mind. I could not recall the last time I ate. All my nutrition came from a tank connected to my stomach, which could sustain me for days at a time. "Within a week, all will have been given the needed medicine."

I nodded and felt comforted by those words.

Our efforts to mimic the ancestors did not come without drawbacks. We kept our lineages strong and secure, but similarities and overlaps were born through our careful breeding. Plagues have ravaged our people once before and brought forth great calamities. It is why those who ventured out were given so many medicines to bolster their health, as well as give them more strength for the fights that lie ahead.

My thoughts broke to the sound of a guttural, fearful scream.

"Help! Help! My child!" I moved to the sound of a woman's voice. She was of the Merchant. One of their weaker tribes with only feline ears and a tail. Her features were gaunt, and fresh bandages were applied over one of her eyes. She cradled her child in her arms. The child's breathing was heavy, and she was shaking as though wracked with a terrible cold. The scent of death clung to her, and besides that, there was blood leaking from her eyes, ears, nose, and mouth. "Help, please! Help!"

The undercaste nearby recalled the warnings and stayed away, but I approached.

"I will take your child to our physicians." I held out my armored hands, and she looked at me with relief and joy. In her eyes, though, I saw something else. A scarlet tint, while the child's was entirely red. She coughed into her sleeve. No blood. Then, she sneezed and coughed again. A chill went down my back. Rumors of the King of Wisdom's weapon against the beast tribes came to mind. He made it so that they were weakened, suffering from blurred vision and even inability to retain waste, but that was it. But it has been years since then. Years that could have been spent— "Hurk!?"

Pain blossomed across my back, and I lost the ability to stand.

My spine was pierced by something, despite my armor, and I dropped the child, and her mother caught her while I forced myself to stay up with one hand and drew my blade with another.

Already, I was healing the wound, and strength was returning to my leg, but the familiar, keening noise of Guardian blades resounded as people began to scream.

For a moment, I thought that the undercaste were rebelling, but I soon realized that my foes were not wielding blades.

Their arms were weapons themselves, and slowly they shifted forms into tall and elegant versions of Citadel Guardians.

Some sort of new Guardian model discovered by the King of Wisdom?

Or, a long and terrible plan coming to fruition, as the Iterants long ago decided that the Descendants were the rightful heirs and not the Trueborn?

I swallowed my fear, stood, and summoned earthen walls to give me time to breathe, but it was for naught.

They clambered up the walls and descended upon me with arms like knives. Barely recovered, I swung at them with a roar and summoned strength by crushing fake molars in my mouth and unleashing a chemical cocktail that gave me rage, strength, and clarity all at the same moment. I let my magic run wild, and it erupted around me, shattering my attackers into many shards, along with the fortifications that I created.

To my shock and horror, when they shattered, a fine mist exploded from them, surged towards the roofing, and spread as many droplets across the hovel.

Transforming lethal soldiers who could spread disease without being harmed themselves!

Who had to be caught rather than destroyed without risking a massive dispersal!

My mind raced, some of it wondering how they managed to get past all our preparations, but then I came to a horrible realization.

If they were here and willing to unveil themselves to me, with fatal symptoms already beginning to form, that must mean…

"I have already failed." The others who attacked me had run amongst the frightened crowd. I did not pursue them. Instead, I shook my head and moved forward. "No, I cannot think that way. That is the path of annihilation."

I looked around and found the mother dead, shielding her child from the blast of my magic, and retrieved the child.

They tried to stop me once I had the child in hand.

Perhaps there was a way to overcome this disease if they feared the retrieval of a single child by a soldier of the Forgers of the Mountains.

Or, at least, I had to believe such was the case as I turned towards the halls that would lead into the rest of the city.

Still, the hope I carried in my heart felt as frail and ephemeral as the child I carried in my hands.

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