God Rising: The Cult of Ainz
Written by: AtheistBasementDragon
Edited by: The Usual Gang of Drunken Perverted Idiots
Chapter 181: Dark Days
AN: Happy Holidays! Since we had some people donate food to food banks, I'm doing a short chapter bomb instead of just a winter vacation. Seven chapters, 6 GR and one Discord Exclusive comedy moved over. Enjoy... But one more thing!
AN TRIGGER WARNING: Scenes involving the character of Neia Baraja depict the symptoms of PTSD, done as realistically as the author can manage. If you find such instances difficult to read, well you have been cautioned.
...Northern Column...
The long steps of Gargantua might have been slow moving, but they ate up the ground in front of enormous golem, inexorable step by inexorable step. Boom sounded upon boom, thunder upon thunder, but drowning out even the heavy steps of this moving mountain, were the hoofbeats of a hundred thousand undead horses, pounding feet of thousands upon thousands of demihumans, orcs, dwarves, quagoa, and scores of other soldiers, backed by almost two hundred thousand humans from Re-Estize, the Sorcerer Kingdom, and the Holy Kingdom, and thousands more undead fodder. The line of the united armies stretched for miles.
"I can hardly believe it." Leinas said as she rode next to Aureole Omega. Her beautiful eyes surveyed the land on either side of her, and she let her body go all but limp with the pleasure of the open wind and open ground.
"What's that?" Ryla asked curiously.
"There's... well, there's nothing left worth mentioning. The Elf King is gone, Astraka is gone, Suchala and Yuri are gone, Philip is gone, almost all the Theocracy is either occupied or a blasted ruin. The Kings and Queens of the world, well, as much of it as I know anyway, are gathered together... it's... in ten thousand years, will anyone think of this time as anything but a myth?"
Ryla laughed, her hair swaying behind her as she caressed the Everplains horse beneath her. "Maybe, who can say? But what matters is that we make it a myth worth telling, and... I think we're doing pretty well at that. Our Chindai will teach them a lesson that those who survive will never forget." She held her chin up, proud and sure.
"Yes, he will." Khava agreed joyfully, "To watch him fight is... beautiful. Unfortunately this will be my last battle for some time."
Ryla looked to her sister wife. Then her eyes widened as she understood, "You bear a new rider within you?"
"I do, it is right that he should know the saddle and the wide world now, to be born into a different world, but after this battle, I will remain back, and I yield the riding of the night to the two of you, that you may also bear a rider to the world." She said with a pleasant, if somewhat salacious smile.
Leinas rolled her eyes. "Elves of the plains."
"What?" Shalltear asked with annoyance, "What the hell did they just say?"
Leinas kept the laughter from her lips as she looked at the diminutive monster next to her. "Khava there just said she's pregnant, and promised Ryla lots of bedroom time with their husband so she could get a better chance at the same."
"And she didn't just... say it?" Shalltear asked rhetorically.
Leinas answered anyway, "She did, they're a very... ritualistic people, martial cultures like theirs surround themselves with formalities and rituals, it keeps the bloodshed to a minimum."
The transplanted southern elf and her dark elf sister wife positively beamed as Leinas explained it, clearly proud of the description of their homeland's customs.
"Hmpf, whatever, as long as they obey Lord Ainz." Shalltear said dismissively, then tensed.
"Something wrong?" Leinas asked cautiously, tensing up as well.
"Something right, rather." Aureole Omega said pleasantly, and raised her hand, pointing straight ahead, "I can see C'teon, you might not, but we can see farther than you can, we'll reach it at nightfall. So, what do you want to do?"
Leinas thought it over, "Surround it on three sides, break down all four, give them time to flee to Kami Miyako, and kill everything else in the way?" She proposed the plan casually, and Shalltear was quick to speak up.
"Why let them flee, why not kill everything?" She asked uncertainly, 'Am I missing something?' She wondered anxiously.
"Dead people don't eat." Aureole Omega remarked. "Every person that flees here is one more that the capital will have to provide for, and that will make the last siege easy, they might even surrender before we arrive, recognizing how futile it is."
"Oh. But..." Shalltear started to speak again, 'Won't they just eat their weakest and most useless ones? I mean what other good are they? Will I look stupid if I say that? If I look stupid I might make Lord Ainz look bad... but what if I'm right? I should say it.' She thought to herself, and then went on, "won't they just eat the ones they have the least use for?"
That sent silence among the command ranks save for Aureole who was nodding approvingly at her fellow Nazarick denizen's comment, finally Leinas answered, "I... guess they could, Lady Shalltear, but I just don't consider it likely, I know they've done horrible things, but never that. No, more likely they'll surrender. Even Dominic has to know he can't hold those populations in his city and win. If it comes to that, they'll cave... but... maybe it wouldn't hurt to march just a little bit faster anyway." She looked over her shoulder to a fief player, and he began to blow a beat that was echoed down the line as the pace of the march was quickened by a few steps more per minute.
...Wheaton...
Yorgrim trudged down the street in clean clothes, having just thrown away the bloody ones he'd used to throw body parts into the river. He looked at his hands for the hundredth time. 'No blood, there's no blood, there's no blood no blood no blood no blood no blood no blood...' He whispered in his own mind over and over and over again, trying desperately to convince himself that his hands were in fact, still clean after having thoroughly washed them again and again. 'Damn you... damn you all for coming here. Damn you for what you did to my city, damn you... demons, demons, you're demons, I hate you, I hate you all...' He thought to himself as a group of humans walked by in the black armor that, for all his hatred, made his heart quail in his breast.
'Don't hurt me don't hurt me don't hurt me...' He thought as they walked past. They did nothing, they ignored him, a middle aged human with neither armor nor weapons wasn't a threat. 'Not that I was a threat when I had them.' He thought bitterly as he made his way to a tavern. He opened the half broken door and walked into the building, a fireplace provided heat and warmth, stacks of broken doors, roof thatching, and busted chairs were to the left and right of it. Dozens of tables were occupied by people drinking themselves to oblivion. A buxom woman approached, she didn't say anything, nobody was talking. She didn't take his order, she was already carrying a mug.
She set it down in front of him, he slid a coin over to her without looking, she didn't even look to see what it was before putting it in her apron pouch. It was a coin of the Sorcerous Kingdom.
He started drinking, hard. The alcohol washed down his throat and he never tasted it. His scruffy and bedraggled beard caught flecks of beer that spilled due to his rapid attempt at consumption. Nobody looked, they were doing the same thing.
'How could this happen? How? We're the Theocracy damn it... or were. How could the gods send demons to us?' He asked himself yet again. Most around were asking themselves the same question, a few slid coins over the table to servers who brought more booze. Nobody looked at their coins. Nobody wanted to.
Unlike most, he had one memory on a loop that they didn't, encountering the commander... it came to mind yet again as he finished his mug and quickly slid another coin across the table to wait for its replacement.
...Battle of Wheaton...Days Earlier...
The clash of arms as yet another barrier collapsed under the relentless onslaught sent panic through Yorgrim's heart as he braced himself at his position, desperate survivors of the previous position fell in behind him. The stink of sweat rose from his body, and his chest rose and fell in long, deep, fear filled breaths. He fingered the sword pommel over and over again, wrapping and unwrapping his fingers over it as if to remind himself it was still there. His eyes scanned the street in front of him, it was one of the four way intersections, so there were soldiers like him at every street, with rubble and debris thrown up as small hills, walls, and so on. 'Goddamnit... I can't stand it, I wish they'd get here so we could get this over with, the waiting is a nightmare on its own.' He thought to himself, and then he froze.
He looked to his left, right, and behind him, doubtful expressions greeted him, he looked at the other barriers blocking access to the intersection, the faces he could see were just like his own. Anxiety dialed up to eleven.
"Fire! Bring the flame!" Someone shouted, and a torch flew over his head as he saw why the black armor was coming into view, but to his horror, one suit of green was at the front.
The roar of fire went up as the alcohol and pitch soaked wood was struck by the torch.
Over the roar of the fire however, there was a blood-curdling voice. "Kill them all kill them all kill them all kill them all..."
He drew his sword, and the archers behind the barrier loosed their deadly arsenal, 'Please... please gods, put an arrow in those eyes, end her before they get here... please oh please... give me mercy... protect me... save us...' He whimpered the prayer and finished it as a banshee howl of bloodlust filled the air and, as if the fire were not there, battle maniacs began flinging themselves through, cloaks caught fire, and they didn't seem to mind. The banshee wailer landed in front of him, here eyes dark as the pitch behind her and hot as the fire that rose from it, she fell on him. "Kill kill kill kill..." It was a loop of rage, he desperately parried her first blow, and felt his arm crack as he fell to the ground, he fell on his side, and her sword found its mark in his gut. She moved on, the words on repeat, while he waited to die.
...Present...
The mug being put in front of him brought him out of the memory and he took it up to drink. 'Maybe if I drink enough I can wash away the memory.' He thought to himself for the fourth day in a row, and again found himself disappointed with the failure.
He slumped over the table, blanking out to unconsciousness, like most of the rest there would eventually. He awoke hours later, when light shining through the burned and broken door hit his face, right on the eye no less. A groan left his lips, and he turned his face away, the warmth of the sun kissing his head was countered by the chill of the winter cold blowing inside. Someone lit the fire again, he felt a shiver over his body.
"Gah..." he said as he pushed his aching and half frozen arms up from the table and stood. Nobody but the proprietor was awake, and she was tending the flame. He brought his hands up and cupped them over his mouth and blew hot breath into them, then rubbed them together for a desperate warmth. He heard talking outside, thanks to the silence inside, a voice he'd heard once before.
He went to the door and looked through the gaping hole, 'Her... the other demon woman, the one that followed... that thing, through the fire!' One eye, bright green, talking to a woman with long blonde hair and a monstrous long black sword.
He felt his heart seize in his breast. 'I've got to hide...' He thought immediately, then mentally kicked himself. 'No, they'll ignore me if I just walk off, if I hide I'll look suspicious...'
So he opened the door and walked out, letting it fall closed behind him, intending to just walk past and pretend they weren't there, just like he pretended that most of the buildings weren't a ruin of blackened ash, fallen roofs, and full of holes. Just like he pretended that he wasn't using the coins of his conquerors and just like he pretended that his nation still had a future. But, seized by some impulse to folly, he muttered under his breath, "Fucking demons." as he went on.
The green eyed woman glared at him, "Got something to say, say it to my face." She bit the words off and spat them at him with fury in her voice.
He stopped where he stood, for a moment expecting to feel one of their swords run through his back, when it didn't happen, a bit of courage welled from within and he turned slowly around.
"I said, 'fucking demons' didn't you hear me?" He asked in a hateful voice.
"If I really were a demon, neighbor... you'd already be dead, or wishing you were." The one eyed woman glared at him.
"I already do, so yes, you are." Yorgrim said scathingly. "You come to my country, come to my city, destroy our homes and businesses, you unleash a monster on us, leave a handful of us alive, and dare claim you're not demons?!"
The one eyed woman wasn't quiet for long, "Your country was the one that wanted war, your country came to 'my' home, your country started the civil war in 'my' kingdom, your country came to my lands, burned our homes, burned our businesses, you ignored us when we called for help, then came and burned our people alive to manipulate us. Fuck your country and fuck your city, you started all this, we're just winning it. And we're still more merciful than you, do you know 'why' so much of your city is wiped out you unmitigated bastard?! Do you?!" She shouted at him in anger, her fists clenched tight as she stalked closer, the blonde woman grabbed her shoulder, but she shook it off.
Yorgrim felt fear rising up, his tongue wouldn't move to let him answer. "It's because my wife found your breaker academy! You did this! You did this to yourselves! I warned you! I 'begged' your commanding officer to surrender! I begged him to just give in so that this exact thing wouldn't happen! Because I knew your blasted school was here, my wife found it! She found it and it... it broke something in her! You brought her wrath down like I warned your stupid leader that it would!" The one eyed woman was shouting at him with fury, foam flecked from her lips and spittle flew at him and caught in his beard as he backed himself against the wall.
"You're the demons! You! What you did to your slaves, did that to my wife, and that is why she did this to you! Your destruction of lives, brought destruction to you! You were warned! Again and again and again we warned you! We told you we were coming when we sent the overseer! We warned you when we took the Golden Fortress! I warned your people at the gates of this very city! You brought this on yourselves! If you hate demons so much... don't become them, because you'll raise worse ones against you!" The one eyed woman shouted at him and he fell mute, rage oozed out of her like honey through a broken cask.
'How... is she lying, she doesn't seem like it, that's real rage there... how could she know the things she says she does, how could she, how could it be...?' He wondered, and finally found his voice, "Who... are you?" He asked, carefully leaving off the word 'demon'.
"I'm Skana Baraja, wife of Neia Baraja, the Pope and commander of Black Justice and its entire military apparatus. I'm also her Vice Commander, and every single thing I've said to you is absolutely true. I tried to save your city, but you chose leaders who preferred to destroy themselves. Don't start wars if you're not prepared to see them brought to your gates."
Yorgrim began to sweat profusely, the blonde woman grabbed the one calling herself 'Skana' and this time the green eyed woman allowed herself to be pulled away, and the two walked off, leaving him alone and horrified. 'I... want to drink some more, screw work today... I want to forget all that.' He thought, and went back inside the ruined tavern.
...Draconic Kingdom Army...
General Musan rode at the head of the column feeling a profound sense of loneliness as he did so. Behind him there were now fifty thousand soldiers, with the increase from elven volunteers and reinforcements from home, it was an army to be reckoned with. The stomping feet moved to the steady rhythm of fiefs and drums, to not only keep time, but let the whole world know they were coming.
Despite his loneliness, a small hint of pride crept through in a tiny smile. "Sir?" One of his aides asked, "Everything alright? You're awfully quiet."
"Fine, I was just thinking, it's strange not to have Queen Draudillon and General Oma near me, you get accustomed to some people being around, and when they're not, you feel a bit empty, like you're missing part of yourself."
The young aide nodded in grave understanding, "Of course, I have a wife back home, she informed me she was pregnant the day we left, she's probably as big as a house now." He laughed, "I can't wait to get home to her, it's not easy being away after having spent every day for three years with her beside me every morning."
"No doubt, but hey, you'll go home soon, so there is that." General Musan said pleasantly and gave a fond smile to the young man.
"By the way, General... didn't you say you had a new body guard now? Where is he... or she?" the aide asked and looked around.
General Musan gave an indifferent shrug, "All I know is that I'm being watched over, I haven't been 'introduced,' just told that I'm being guarded at all times in the event of another attempt on my life."
"Strange..." The aide remarked with a minor frown of incomprehension.
"Everything about the Sorcerous Kingdom is strange, and impossible, and powerful, but it is because of all that, that our nation survived." He said pointedly.
The aide was clearly about to respond, but his mouth closed as he raised his arm and pointed ahead of him, "Sir... Wheaton." He said, and General Musan turned his eyes to where the young man pointed.
"Ha ha! Yes! We're here. Marvelous... but wow, they really did a number on that place, it's a wreck." He said as he saw the many gaping holes in the walls, the tendrils of thick black smoke that told him they were burning pitch and oil, or that some had been set alight and not yet entirely put out yet since the fighting had ended. "Well, that's General Baraja for you, not one for half measures when confronted with resistance. Alright, blow the horn, let them know we're here."
A long, loud bellowing of a trumpet created a buzz of activity on the walls, and the gates, what was left of them, opened welcomingly.
"Did they really need to open the gates?" The aide asked with a little confusion, "I mean we could just walk through the scores of gaps..."
"No, they didn't have to, they're just acknowledging that they recognize us and that we are welcome within. They're being polite." General Musan replied patiently as he further educated the young officer.
The young man closed his eyes briefly as he internalized the knowledge, they rode in amicable silence as they made their way into the conquered city.
The population was as much a wreck as the city itself, dirty, fearful, broken spirited, 'Are these really the people of the Theocracy? The ones that wrought so much havoc for so long...? Well, I guess it's what happens when you meet something worse than yourself.' Musan thought as he remembered the face of the beastman that had come to court after the Sorcerer King had 'visited' and formally signed an agreement to never send his people west again, the lionman had a haunted, broken face, dull eyes, and a dull mane, like a different being than the proud beasts that had overrun the Draconic Kingdom.
He shook his head, as if casting off the memory, and made his way to the city center. He found a delegation waiting for him. Several rows of Black Justice officers, and members of the elven army that served under Queen Zesshi, they waited in a pair of double row formations, but to his surprise, he saw a black clad human standing in front of the elves, an elf in front of a band of mixed races, where in front of the purely human armies was one figure he recognized, a one eyed auburn haired woman.
He dismounted from his horse, as did the aide, who took both sets of reins and stayed back. Then he strode across the open stone that made up the plaza and stopped twelve paces back, he rendered a salute with his fist over his heart. "General Musan of the Draconic Kingdom." He said, identifying himself, and held the salute.
"General Thirg of the Elven Liberation Forces, serving under Queen Zesshi Zetsumei... Newly promoted, if you're wondering." He smirked a bit and rendered his own salute.
"Cenna Tachoni, Temporary Commander of the Elven Army, former Captain of the Black Scripture." He said and rendered a close imitation of the salute of his counterpart.
Skana snapped out a salute of her own, "Vice Commander Skana Baraja of Black Justice. I command here in the absence of General Neia Baraja."
When she dropped her salute, the rest did the same, one by one. Skana looked over to Lakyus who stood at her side, "Lakyus, would you see to the General's aide, get his men quarters for the day, then join us after, we'll be in the briefing room in the manor, the one you left General Oma waiting in."
"Of course." Lakyus said politely.
"General Oma?! She's here?!" General Musan barely kept himself from shouting as he exclaimed in disbelief.
...Kami Miyako...
Melkan spat blood onto the floor. "I ask you again, how often can the Sorcerer King cast his high tier spells." The interrogator rubbed the fist he'd just used on Melkan's thick jaw.
Melkan chose that moment to laugh. "Really, like I didn't hear you the first time? I tell you again, I. Don't. Know. Aren't you idiots getting tired of this? You've been asking me for weeks now, and you never get anything."
"You were at his side for weeks, and never learned a damn thing? You expect us to believe that?" The solid interrogator asked.
"Don't care if you believe any of it, I don't know a damn thing." Melkan said again, and spat even harder after another blow cracked across his jaw. A tooth clacked to the floor with the blood that flew out.
He looked up at the interrogator, he was a medium sized man with muscles that spoke of hard work, solidly built, and he seemed to like hitting, if the smile on his face every time a punch landed, was any indication. "You know…" the interrogator said as he went to a wash basin by the door and cleaned the blood off his face and hands, "I actually understand your loyalty to the undead. I actually lived in the Draconic Kingdom a long time ago. I was a farmer back then, lived close to the beastman border, I bought the land there because it was cheap, I figured I could farm more area, make more money, then move somewhere safer. Had a little cottage, a nice life, a wife, I was even going to have a child."
As he padded his hands dry, moved to the next table over where implements of pain rested. Melkan tried to shift left and right to see what was being sought, he felt his body start to sweat again. 'Delay, at least a little delay is a little less agony! And stay strong idiot, you can't give anything up anyway, this is what it took to get Moira the chance to escape, it's the price you knew you'd pay, now take hold of your cock, be a man, and pay it!' He thought urgently. "Yeah, guess you brought them with you here eh, what's it like to go home to them after torturing people?"
The interrogator shook his head, "No, the beastmen invaded, so… I ran. I ran to the stable, got my horse, and rode off, abandoning my wife and unborn child. I'm sure they were eaten not long after, but… I did save myself. I still miss her of course but… it was them or me. To be honest? Now I barely remember her face. If I can do that to them… just imagine what I'll do to someone whose agony can actually be helpful to me?" He turned around and held his hand out with palm upturned so that Melkan could see what he had.
"No… it can't be…" Melkan's eyes went wide.
A trio of thimbles with sharp, small, catlike claws at the end, Melkan shook and tried to get loose from the chair to which he was chained. "Now, either you tell me how many different types of spells you saw, or you pick which eye I pluck from your skull again." The interrogator said wickedly, before stopping short at the stunned look on Melkan's face.
"What?" The interrogator asked inquisitively, lowering his hand slowly to his side.
"She has soft, beautiful brown hair, brown eyes that sparkle when she's happy or when she's sad, and are gentle when she smiles. She has thin lips the purse tight when she's annoyed and tremble like a lute string when she's crying. She has an oval face, is smaller than I by about a foot, and has a freckle on her left cheek that disappears when she smiles. Oh and she's a little tan because she likes to stand out in the sun when the wind blows and plays with her hair." Melkan said confidently. "Remember now?"
The interrogator's face when from confused and cockeyed, too shocked with his mouth hanging open and his shoulders slumped forward, too enraged at the completeness of the description. "How could you possibly know that?!" He demanded through clenched teeth.
"Because… your wife is alive, or was, last I saw her. Incidentally, you have a son, congratulations." Melkan said, savoring the range of confused and agonized emotions that crossed the face of the interrogator as he tried to find some way to deny what Melkan said… and found none.