Chapter 1: Chapter 1
High Inquisitor Valtena surveyed the burning walls of Endin in the distance, his lip instinctively flickering into a snarl as another one of the houses collapsed in a roar of flames.
Narko's work ran deep in the United Cities, her temptations and decadences corrupting the hearts of the fallen Second Empire. Against the natural order, woman ruled man, leading them to fraternize and lie with beasts and stick-men and consume the dregs of fermented poison in the name of frivolity. Man owned each other, trading flesh like property for sport and filthy lucre, debasing the very forms given to them by Okarn himself into just another good for sale. Freedom was having enough Cats to own what the Lord himself gave you for free.
He turned to survey the gathered Sentinels and Paladins behind him. The mass of torches held by servants illuminated the faces of the thousands gathered to observe this great purification. On each and every man's face shone a holy determination that only a knowledge of the Light could provide. The heathen looked, but did not see. Had eyes to receive, but not the insight to perceive. As a servant of the Lord of the Light, he would illuminate them all, that they may come to know the warmth of Okran's love by the edge of his Paladins' blades. The sun would rise on this day to show the might of the Holy Nation made manifest on the darkened and the damned.
Valtena glanced down at the quivering soldier in front of him. The boy was perhaps only sixteen or seventeen, and donned in the battered armor of a United Cities conscript. The young man looked up at him, his grey eyes wide with terror in the flickering light from torches and the holy fire burning behind them. There, in the sand by his feet, was an ever-widening patch of wet darkness as the boy blanched and jerked his gaze away with a whimper.
Valtena appraised the boy silently for a long moment, before crouching down to eye level with the young soldier.
"Look at me, brother." Valtena said, his voice soft.
The young man raised his eyes for a moment before flinching away and cowering further. Valtena watched him, before reaching out a hand and gently placing it on the side of the young man's head. After a moment, the boy raised his head again, staring directly into the High Inquisitor's eyes.
Valtena held the young man's gaze for a long moment, before smiling gently.
"It is a glorious day, brother, for the Lord of Light has seen fit to bring you back into his fold. On this very night, you begin your path to redemption." He said, before gently tossling the boy's dark hair.
"On this day, the first of your great cities, Endin, has been purified by the Lord's ever-burning fire. And next, the city of Bast will receive the same. And it is you, dear boy, who will serve as the mouthpiece of the Lord to tell them of our pending arrival, that they may repent and prostrate themselves to the Lord's mercy." He said.
The young soldier's face blanched. "Y-you want me to tell them you're coming? Bu-but why?"
Valtena stood, and turned towards the gathered mass of Paladins and Sentinels before him. He straightened, and gestured to the book in the hands of one of the nearby Inquisitors. The man nodded, and handed the battered copy to Valtena. Without opening it, the High Inquisitor held the Holy Flame aloft, and began to quote.
"Shall I tell you the law of God in regard to the darkened races? If the man who belongs to the chosen seed mixes his blood with the seed of Narko, the penalty, under the law of God, is death on the spot. This will always be so. The nations of this world have transgressed every law that God has given, they have changed the ordinances and broken every covenant made with the fathers, and they are like a hungry man that dreams that he has eaten, and awakens to behold that he is empty."
Valtena reached behind his back and pulled the Paladin's Cross from its sheath, the rectangular, flawless blade flashing in the firelight. He paused for effect, before resuming.
"But Okran is not unjust! He is not only the Lord of the vengeful fire, but the source of the illuminating light that will drive the darkness from man's hearts. He did not choose our Holy Lord Phoenix, or any of the rest of his servants, only to send the darkened to the hells they deserve. He has sent up and chosen us, that we may redeem the fallen through their service to the Lord himself. That is our purpose! What is the Lord's will, brothers?" He shouted to the legion of Paladins before him.
"To redeem the fallen in the light of the Lord's grace!" Came a chorus of a thousand voices in reply.
"And how are we to present redemption, brothers?" Valtena shouted back.
"Through the mercy of our words, and the fury of our swords!" Came the thousand-strong reply.
Valtena turned and looked down at the boy, who was pale with fear, and knelt down in front of him again, setting the blade of his weapon point down into the sand between them and resting his hands on the hilt. He leaned forward, and locked eyes with him.
"What is your name, son?"
"Samel, son of Gemmen, sir." He said timidly.
Valtena smiled again.
"The Lord has chosen you for a great purpose, Samel. You are to run to Bast with all haste, and tell them of our pending arrival. Let them know that all who choose to submit themselves to the Lord's faithful will not be harmed, and will be given the chance to make good their redemption along with the other servants at Rebirth. All those who resist the Lord's will for their salvation, however, will be redeemed by force at the edge of my Paladin's blades.That is the message you will deliver." He said.
Samel swallowed hard. After a moment he numbly nodded his head in agreement.
"Good."
Valtena smiled and stood, his hand still resting on the handle of his weapon. He offered Samel his hand, and after a moment the young man took it and got to his feet. The High Inquisitor looked him in the eye, and appraised him.
"Do you understand what is expected of you?" Valtena asked.
"Yes." Samel said as he tried gently to pull his hand away. The High Inquisitor's grip tightened hard as steel around it as he did so, and Valtena's smile faded. His unerring gaze bored into the young man's eyes, and the blood drained from Samel's face.
"Then let us be sure that you do as the Lord wills." Valtena said.
Without warning, the High Inquisitor pulled his blade from the ground with his free hand, and in one fell swoop lopped the arm holding Valtena's hand clean off just short of the shoulder pauldron of his armor.
Samel fell to the ground in a thrashing heap, shrieking and screaming as dark blood pumped and gushed from the stump where his left arm had been only moments before. Valtena looked down at the limb he was holding for a moment before thoughtlessly tossing it to the side and taking one of the torches from a nearby servant. He walked over to the thrashing body of the fallen soldier, grabbed the boy by the hair, and thrust the torch onto the gushing wound.
Flesh and blood sizzled and smoked as the flames charred and sealed the flesh, and Samel's screams rose in pitch as he jerked and kicked in the sand. Satisfied the wound was closed enough, Valtena reached down and hoisted the still-screaming boy to his feet.
"Look at me, brother." Valtena said. "LOOK AT ME!"
Samel's eyes locked with his. There was nothing but primal terror and pain in the young boy's eyes.
Valtena pointed over Samel's shoulder.
"Bast is a few hours travel in that direction. If you do not reach the city within half a day, you will die of infection. If you hesitate, you will lose consciousness and bleed to death. Look at me, brother. You must do the Lord's work, or you will die, for only the healers in that city can save you from judgment now." He said.
Valtena spun the young soldier around, and gave him a gentle nudge in the direction he pointed.
"Run, brother! Tell the fallen of our mercy!" He said.
Samel stumbled into the darkness, struggling to maintain his balance as he ran headlong away from the gathered horde of soldiers and into the empty desert in the direction Valtena pushed him. Once the boy was out of sight, Valtena returned his attention to his gathered men, wiping the blood from his blade as he spoke.
"Make camp, and prepare your souls for the coming bloodshed, brothers, for tonight we have sent the heathen a message. Before the dawn after tomorrow, we will be within Bast's walls!"
A great cheer rose from the Paladins before him, and Valtena allowed himself a smile as he sheathed his blade. The great work was underway. By morning on the second day, Bast would be redeemed.
Thus did Okran will.
And thus would he achieve.
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Lady Kima looked down at the unconscious boy's body on the table in front of her, her face expressionless.
"One of ours." She observed, then added, "From Endin, it seems."
The Samurai captain who'd brought the boy in nodded.
"He was more than half-crazed when he made it to the gates. Was ranting something about a chance for redemption, and the holy cleansing the wicked, and other mad shit. By the time he made it in the walls, he just kept repeating the word 'thousands' over and over again, and mumbling something about 'rebirth''." He said. "Seems to have lost his mind."
Lady Kima's face hardened.
"Or had it taken from him." She said quietly.
The guard looked at her, confused.
"You think it was cannibals that got him?" He asked.
She glowered at the guard, and he withered under her gaze.
"When have you ever known the painted devils to let their prey escape?" She asked.
The guard cleared his throat nervously.
"Perhaps he fought them off?" He offered weakly.
"After losing an arm? A boy of his age? Hardly." Lady Kima snorted, and the guard shrank further. "No.This boy was let go. By the Holy Nation, no less."
The guard looked puzzled.
"How can you be so sure?" He asked.
Lady Kima closed her eyes and massaged the bridge of her nose, then sighed.
"Cleansing is what The Holy Lord Phoenix and his Inquisitors call exterminating anyone who disagrees with them. Rebirth is the slave pit they send anyone who survives their slaughter. Thousands would obviously be the number of the force that captured him and let him go. I swear, Tomas, if you weren't so capable with a blade I'd have your head shaved and send you to the Stone Camps for your stupidity." She said.
Tomas cleared his throat and averted his eyes, his face red.
"Sorry, my lady." He said, finally.
Ignoring him, she continued.
"And since the boy is from Endin by the marks on his armor, we can assume the force that took him has already taken the city, or is about to." She said, crossing her arms and pursing her lips. She looked over at the guard again.
"Tell me, Tomas. How did I come to that conclusion?" She asked.
Tomas looked up at her again. His gaze implied more questions, but he said nothing. He stood there silently, studying the boy for a long moment.
"He's wearing the armor of a guard conscript, not a scout. The only way he could have been seized is either inside or directly around the city." He said finally.
Lady Kima nodded. "Correct. Which means that we should assume the worst."
"You mean…" Tomas trailed off.
"Yes. At this point, we should assume Endin has fallen, and Lord Endo and his Samurai along with it." She replied grimly, then added, "and their attackers are on their way here."
She turned towards the guard captain.
"In the midst of his ranting, did he say anything about when the attack was supposed to come? Think, Tomas. Any word he said could be of the utmost importance."
Tomas crossed his arms and chewed on the inside of his cheek for a moment in silence. Finally shook his head.
"No, he didn't. At least, not that I can recall." He said, then after a moment added, "but, I think they will come at nightfall."
Lady Kima crossed her arms and looked at the man skeptically.
"What leads you to that conclusion?"
"Well, the bugger here said nothing else that I haven't already mentioned. But, it would make the most sense. It gives time for their message to arrive, and for fear to spread. But more than that, the Redeemed don't fight at range. And If I were leading an army into an attack, and I didn't have a squad of marksmen at my back when attacking someone who does, you had best believe I'd want to attack at the time that would remove that advantage." The soldier said, uncrossing his arms and shifting his weight.
Lady Kima smiled faintly.
"You and I suspect the same, then. And for the same reasons." She said. She thought silently for a moment, then cleared her throat.
"Gather the other captains and prepare the defenses. Call up every Citizen for conscript militia. Strip any able-bodied man or woman who refuses to take up arms in defense of the city of their Citizenship and throw them out. If they won't fight for their homes, they clearly don't care enough to keep them." She said.
Tomas raised an eyebrow.
"That seems a little excessive, don't you think?" He asked.
Lady Kima shot him a glance so frigid that he instinctively cowered and bowed his head. She ignored his question and continued.
"Select your fastest runner. He needs to be able to reach Heft in half a day's time or less. I doubt the Emperor will bother with giving them an audience, but we might still get some aid from the other Cities if Koin steps in. Send another runner to Drin. They will be next if Bast falls. Perhaps if we are not able to receive help in time, they might be more lucky."
She paused, and contemplated the unconscious conscript on the table.
"And get this one-limbed wonder out of my house." She said.
Tomas nodded.
"Where shall I take him, my lady?" He asked.
She looked at the boy again.
"Does he have a Citizen's Brand on his left hand?"
Tomas looked at the boy, then back up to her, his expression uncertain whether she was being serious.
"He… doesn't have a left hand, my lady." He said, taking the safe route.
"Then he isn't a Citizen. Throw him out of the city, or feed him to the bonedogs. Whichever sits easier with your conscience." She said, waving the whole notion away as she turned to leave.
"But…." Tomas started, but bit his tongue almost immediately.
Lady Kima turned and locked eyes with the captain.
"Something on your mind, Tomas?" She asked, in a tone that told him there had most certainly better not be.
Tomas dropped his gaze and shook his head.
"No, my lady." He said quietly.
"Then get to work. I expect a response from the capital before next nightfall." She said. And without another word, she turned and stepped out of the chamber, leaving Tomas alone with his thoughts.
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The Servants of Light came for Bast at night, beneath a clouded, starless sky.
Atop the walls of the Free City, conscripts rushed to man powered harpoon guns, while below, Samurai readied their blades, their silvered plate armor and beetle-head helms flickering and shining in the torchlight atop the battlements. Lady Kima strode grimly through the armored lines, flanked on both sides by her personal retinue of Noble Guards, their faces hidden in shadow beneath sweeping chainmail hoods. Her battered armor, a tool she'd long since neglected the use of, sat heavy on her frame. Ruling and managing the affairs of state left little room for martial practice, but now that she found herself surrounded by the auspices of war again, she regretted not making the time.
It was too late to call for aid again. The messenger had arrived back a couple hours ago, pale and breathless, only to give her the message she hoped she wouldn't receive. Emperor Tengu himself personally rejected her request for pre-emptive support, citing "no imminent, observable threat to the independence or security of Bast as a city-state". She knew those were Koin's words, not the Emperor's, but the difference didn't matter. Help wasn't coming.
Mounting the stairs leading to the palisade above the gate, she wondered quietly to herself, only for a moment, if staying to fight was worth it. After all, if she survived, she was still nobility, hand-selected by Tengu himself. Her life was more important than the rest. No one would hold her accountable, the Emperor least of all, if she chose to make good her escape and leave the rabble to their fate. But if she stayed and fought, the odds of her making it out of the fight alive would be slim. What was the point in risking it all for the lot of them?
She shook the thought out of her head. That was the Noble Circle talking, not her.
She may be elevated in station, but she remembered the time before. Being a Citizen of the Union was never terribly easy, but so long as you had a work ethic and a solid head on your shoulders for making Cats, your lot in life was limited only by your ambition. She was living proof of that. And while caring about the people in your city was considered passe by Noble standards, she felt no reason to treat them with disdain or cruelty. Shiro and his ilk, they were born into the Union, with no idea of what life was like outside the protection of the Free Cities. But she knew. And she remembered the kindness extended to her by Citizens back when she was a brandless vagrant risking her life for a better one. While she could not treat them as equals directly, she owed them the same courtesy they'd once shown her. And that meant fighting for their lives and their livelihoods, even if it cost her her own in the process. She would not run. She was better than that.
Reaching the top of the palisade and looking out over the sea of torchlight stars splayed out across the open desert outside the city, however, her resolve drained away, and she suddenly found it hard to breathe. They were without number. Thousands suddenly seemed so small a number to use for so great a host. She reached out and held onto one of the palisade ballasts to steady herself, and took a deep breath to steady her heart.
Standing straight, Lady Kima donned her helmet. She was a dead woman this night, of that she was certain. Somewhere in the darkened mass of holy plate and religious fervor outside her walls, she knew the Wrath of God was coming for her. But Bast's walls were strong, and her Samurai stronger. She drew her katana, its flawless Catun blade flashing in the firelight.
If the zealots wanted to try their hand at cleansing her and her people of their sins, she'd make them pay dearly for the privilege.
Weekly Power Status
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