Horrifically hot today and I feel awful. I'm hoping some of it is the temperature as I've been super lethargic and weak all day.
Cover: GWBrex
Chapter 67
The small town burned.
They had made their way through the homes and streets searching for anyone who might have foolishly tried to hide away, but it seemed like they'd taken his warning to heart. Or the militia had driven out those who thought they could hide. A small amount of cattle had been left, which the faunus rounded up and brought onto the ship until there was no room. The remainder were let loose in the pens outside the town walls, where they could graze for a few weeks at least. With any luck, by then, Salem's forces would come to investigate and find them.
Adam had suggested killing or even poisoning them so the meat would be dangerous, but this was bad enough already and Jaune didn't want the thought of the survivors sneaking back for supplies, eating the meat, and getting sick. Their war was with Salem, not the people under her, so they left the cattle and spared any animals they could. Thankfully, the folk here had taken pets and horses with them, so there wasn't any of that.
It still distressed him.
The town, which had been a home to hundreds, burned bright on the shore, as their ship pulled back out into deeper waters. Families had made their homes there, made histories, and now it was all gone. They might repair it in time, but he had still wiped it from the map, and those that lived there would have much harder lives now.
"That's a melancholy expression you're wearing." It was Pyrrha, of all people, who came to stand by him. "It's hard to consider you an insane dictator when you look so aggrieved at what you've done."
"There are no witnesses here."
"There are our own forces, but I know what you mean. And it helps, I think, that our own can see how reluctantly you do this. No one is in a celebratory mood, and you'd upset them if you were."
"It must be hard for you as well. You were their protector once."
"Aye." Pyrrha's eyes drifted shut, and she let loose a quiet sigh. "I could claim I still am, and that I'm protecting them from Salem, but I'd only be justifying my actions to myself. They certainly won't feel safe with me around. Still… This must be done. There were no deaths tonight. At least none that we know about or could change. Had we let Salem believe us on Menagerie and attack, then thousands would have died."
That was what he kept telling himself as well, but those faunus were so far away, and the terrified faces of those who he intimidated hours before were closer. Their caravans, travelling into the distance, were in danger from wild animals, Grimm, and bandits. A danger they would have never experienced had he not come.
That they built ships for Salem's forces nominally made them enemies and "involved" in the war, but, like Pyrrha had said before, it was mostly excuse-making on his part. Justification to take away the sting of guilt.
But that didn't mean it hadn't been necessary.
"Now all that's left is to see if she takes the bait," he said. "And see if she falls into old habits."
/-/
The capital city of Vale was abuzz with activity. Pennants flew, the markets bustled, and rows of men and women outside the walls practiced in heavy armour, striking at wooden dummies or one another, as more experienced soldiers moved up and down the lines. Trains of caravans and wagons rolled through the gates stacked high with supplies for the campaign, weapons, armour, and, in some cases, volunteers from outlying villages ready to do their part for the goddess.
Chosen stood proudly at every gate, and on every wall, and roamed the streets on horseback in numbers rarely seen before outside of parades. An entire gate had been set aside for them, often leaving in groups of two or three, to visit villages and search for more touched by the goddess' gift, or, as the news had worryingly spread, men tainted by the dark lord's curse.
The news of that had spread like a plague and driven many men into absolute terror. Lines had formed outside the churches, with men fighting to be tested and proven clean, and those found "cursed" crying and sobbing as they begged for absolution. They had been told they could find it in the grand army, in fighting the rot within their own bodies, and almost all had agreed. Those that hadn't had been granted the only mercy the church could.
It was a trying time for many, and in trying times faith was more important than ever. Priests held mass prayer in the plaza and streets, and the doors of the many churches and temples were open at all times of the day and night. Everyone knew that the Dark Lord had struck at Mistral and now Atlas, and they feared Vale would be next.
"The Goddess protects!" shouted a preacher upon a raised, wooden platform. "The Goddess is here, with us, and She prepares to wage holy war against the demonic forces of the Dark Lord. It is your duty to support Her in any way you can. Pledge yourselves to Her legions or be you old and infirm then share your home with Her soldiers, provide to them food from your own larders, and offer whatever aid you can! Only together, and under her grace, shall we withstand the coming storm!"
Beside the preaching man hung three people from the gallows, their faces distorted in colour and shape as their bodies slowly twisted on the knotted ropes. Deserters from the army, cowards who would betray the Goddess before they even saw combat. Good men rotted by the Dark Lord's touch were seen as victims, and offered a peaceful end should they wish it, but those that had no such excuse yet still spat on her kindness deserved an end without dignity or mercy. Children had taken to pelting the bodies with stones and rocks, cheering whenever they struck flesh and sent the bodies dancing on the ropes. A wheelbarrow before the gallows was growing with food and supplies donated by the faithful.
In the grand churches themselves, Chosen trained extensively in magic. The Huntress Superiors moved up and down the aisles, speaking out loudly. Huntress Superior Glynda Goodwitch tapped a crop against the arm of one young woman to correct it.
"Traditionally, you have been granted the freedom to specialise in magic or combat – but the Dark Lord has chosen to focus his attention on the former. Even Huntress Superior Winter Schnee was bested by him, and brave survivors from the battle at the Dark Island tell us that they made extensive use of fire magic to ward off the ships. More than can be said to come from just him. An army of magic-users, trained in its most destructive arts."
"They will rain down upon our forces when the time comes, and the brave men and women who take up the sword and shield will look to you to protect them. It is your goddess-given duty to master the gift you were given, and it is your duty to use that gift in service of her divine self. We are blessed, but such blessings do not come freely. We must be ready!"
"We will be ready," they chorused.
"We must persevere."
"We will persevere!"
"For the Goddess!"
"FOR THE GODDESS!"
An elderly priest slid into the hall, head bowed, and approached her. Glynda nodded to another Chosen for them to continue the instruction while she dealt with him. The man kept his head down and his hands linked together. "Huntress Superior, I carry a message from her divine self."
"To me?" asked Glynda, surprise overtaking her. "I shall obey, obviously. Speak it."
"The Goddess invites the Superiors to speak with her immediately. I confess I know not the purpose – it is above me – but we have been dispatched to summon you all to the palace. That is all I know."
"That is all I need to know. Thank you for your service. I will attend to the Goddess immediately."
It took but a moment to gather the more magically inclined Chosen and instruct them to continue teaching the others. It was, fortunately, not her alone to try and whip the others into shape. Most huntresses chose combat and using aura to protect the body, but there were some with a talent for the Goddess' magic, and those would help guide the others.
After that, it was a short journey to the palace and a shorter time being checked over and allowed through once she surrendered her weapons. She, along with numerous other Huntress Superiors, including those form Atlas and Vacuo, were guided through to a dining hall. Glynda took her spot at the long table but did not expect food. The timing was wrong, and they would have been informed in advance. Still, servants came and provided them refreshments, for which she was grateful. There was a quiet murmur among the gathered Chosen, but that came to an immediate stop when the grand doors opened. As one, they rose, bowed, and held those bows as the Goddess entered.
Glynda was struck not for the first time by her sheer presence. Power radiated off the Goddess and seeped through each of them. It was frightening, but also inspiring, and she imagined it was similar to what normal folk felt before her or other Chosen. The Goddess was garbed in white robes accented with gold today; she sat in the throne at the far end of the table, then waved her hand for them to sit. They all did and waited for her to speak.
"First of my Chosen," said Salem, her melodious voice carrying in the silence. Never did she have to raise her voice, for no one would intentionally speak over her. "I have gathered you here today because we have harrowing news. The great enemy, the Dark Lord, has been seen on Valean soil."
Glynda felt shocked. And sick. And confused. Desperately, she wished to ask if she was sure, but to question her was unthinkable. Still, Glynda could see the uncertainty in everyone else. The Dark Lord had been fortified on his new island home with numerous blasphemous fools who supported his cause. Why would he leave and come here? It didn't make sense.
"Refugees from the port town of…" Salem paused, and the servant beside her leaned in to whisper in her ear. It was rare to see her lacking in information, omnipotent as she was, but Glynda could only assume the Dark Lord's interference. "Refugeed from the port town of Tansbrook arrived at the city today, after being forced to flee the Dark Lord Jaune Arc and, what he referred to as, his own Chosen. The town was then burned to the ground." Salem waved her hand. "You may speak."
They did so immediately. While all were silent for the goddess, the same courtesy wasn't given to the others, and their voices rose over one another. Glynda was one of the few to stay quiet, though more because she knew she wouldn't be heard than for any other reason.
"Did they flee instead of fight?"
"They should have tracked the Dark Lord's next move!"
"Has he landed? Are we to prepare to march?"
"The fool has come out from behind his walls – we must hunt him down before he can retreat behind them!"
On and on, with many of the same ideas being expressed in different ways by different people. The Goddess sat through it, eyes closed, lips a thin line, un bothered and uncaring of the rising tension in the dining hall. It was times like these that bore fruit to potentially blasphemous thoughts such as why she didn't take control, or why she let it continue, but Glynda told herself it was likely a test. The Goddess could not be expected to do everything for them, or they would not be worthy of her.
"My goddess, if I may," said Glynda, in a moment where the others had talked themselves hoarse and needed to drink. "Has there been any further information on where the Dark Lord is, or what he plans?"
The Goddess' green-blue eyes opened and fixed on her. "Information from our scouts suggests a large force is present on the island of Mistral."
"Scouts?" asked someone. "I didn't realise we'd dispatched scouts there. Who?"
The sentiment was shared. Glynda was sure they had gathered all their forces in Vale, having fully expected they would be attacking Menagerie on a grand crusade. There was no point scouting an abandoned kingdom. Salem, however, fixed the woman who asked with a steely gaze.
"The specifics need not concern you. My actions see further than you can understand. I have eyes in many places. Loyal, trustworthy scouts. That is all you need know."
The woman bowed low. "Forgive me, my Goddess. I did not mean to question you!"
"Enough." Salem's voice rose a little, and everyone grew silent. "You were not brought here to decide our next course of action. I command. You follow. You were summoned so that you might prepare my forces and ensure all my Chosen are ready to face off against his…" Her hands clenched into fists atop the table. "We march on Mistral. To face him in the open field."
Glynda teased her lip between her teeth.
Was that wise, she wanted to ask. The man had left Menagerie, presenting them the perfect opportunity to sweep in and remove his powerbase, as well as preventing him any avenue of retreat. Furthermore, their fleet was weakened and transporting the army to Mistral so soon would be difficult. It would require several trips. The Dark Lord had to know that, hence why he struck at Vale but retreated to Mistral. It felt like a trap.
But such thoughts were blasphemous. This was the Goddess, and her word had led them for thousands of years. Who was she, in her arrogance, to believe she knew better? To even think such things for a moment warranted deep introspection and perhaps a little penance of her own. To say them out lout, here among the other huntress superiors, would be sacrilege. And yet Glynda saw the same expressions on the faces of so many others here. Many of the Superiors knew war. They knew how this worked. They could sense that this was not the correct strategic decision.
And yet…
It was the Goddess herself. Surely, there was more than she knew than them. Glynda felt her doubt washed away with fresh doubt – this time for her own thoughts. Doubting her own analysis. If Salem believed they should march on Mistral, then rather than there being a fault with that, there might instead be a fault with her own tactical nuance for doubting it. Just because a plan seemed simple and unrefined on the surface did not mean it was. The Goddess had her reasons, and it was their duty to figure out what that was. Not to second guess it.
"Do you believe the child who hosts him has been overtaken by madness, holy one?" Glynda asked, instead. Salem regarded her with a short nod.
"I believe so. Why else would he roam from a safe home to strike out at me? Madness has driven him to arrogance, and he assumes he can accomplish what thousands before him have failed. History repeats itself. This may be new to you all, but I have been here a thousand times before. It is as regular as clockwork. We shall march upon them and destroy them. As it has ever been, as shall it be."
Glynda nodded, surrendering her doubts and embracing her faith.
"It shall be as you command," she said, lending her voice to the rising chorus. "The goddess wills it!"
Short chapter is short. I can't say I'm doing so well right now, but the doctor continues to be less than helpful. I know they're under pressure because of walkouts since our government sees fit to increase their own pay while refusing to increase the pay of doctors for, like, the 10th year in a row. This despite all the "great respect" they have for them for the risks they took treating people with covid.
Too busy being ambushed with cake, I suppose.
Next Chapter: 2nd July
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