Throne of Steel

Chapter 13 -Vengeance and Peace

When the excitement of their descent into the catacombs and the stress of the constant threat to the scholars' lives wore off, the Commander, Rox and Rytlock were all lost in their own thoughts. Still stunned by the things they heard down there, each with a pet issue of their own, the Commander and the two Charr made their way to the Imperator's throne. When they arrived at the prisoner cart, Garadin waited for them. "I presume Siegeblast has taken his leave?"

Rytlock broke it to him straight away: "He's going to stab you in the back. You're all just a tool for his ridiculous ambitions!"

The imperator simply grinned. "Even if that were true, it would not save the legions from the storm coming their way. I will arrange for more comfortable travel, you are welcome to stay with us for as long as you like. But we will not cease our assault for your sakes, remember that."

Before Rytlock could say something that would worsen their situation, the Commander decided to respond instead. "Thank you for that. We won't abuse your generosity." It was his understanding that he had to de-escalate things regularly as long as Rytlock was acting up.

Now that they were free, the Flame Legion also allowed them to spend the nights at their own campfire and gave them the tools to make one. Rytlock sat together with him and Rox, but he was completely quiet. Though their immediate course was clear, the Commander was still unsure where to progress from here.

Of all the revelations he and the others heard within the catacombs, the craziest one was a mere idea, thrown out there by Varrock just before his departure. This idea that the Commander somehow either by merit or by miracle came out on top of every fight to the death he was involved in. "Do you think he was right? About that thing Varrock said?"

"Who cares?" Rytlock replied. "Not like it matters."

The Commander wasn't sure what to say to him, but he felt that he had to. "Rytlock…" When he saw the Tribune's glare, he stopped and turned to Rox. "Rox…the map - the things we heard down there, is it really so bad?"

Rox stared at the fire for a while before she answered. "The whole 'Charr have no gods' thing is one of the first things we're taught. We were made to chant it every day in the Fahrar, it's a basic daily routine. It's used to explain why we have Ascalon. That our philosophy works better than that of humans because we have no gods, and that this is the reason why they lost the war. So our whole pride in claiming Ascalon as our own soil is kinda dependent on never having had gods. What the ghosts said completely blows that out of the water."

"I couldn't help but notice, Rox…you seem to be taking this a lot better than Rytlock."

She shrugged. "The Fahrar is the safest time in a Charr's life, and most Charr always exceed in some discipline they're taught. It's a time they remember very fondly. I don't have any good memories from my Fahrar, so I'm not that attached to it. It's still kinda…" She looked up and began staring at the stars. "I want to go back now. To Grothmar. Even though I've never been there before. I just want to leave Ascalon behind. I don't feel like fighting for it anymore. The whole reason we're here is…"

Rytlock snapped at both of them: "The whole reason we're here is because our ancestors started a war against people who never attacked us!" He got up and shouted: "A pointless genocide followed by one pointless war after the other and it all only started because WE WORSHIPED A BUNCH OF TALKING ROCKS!"

He swung his leg and kicked the ground, launching dirt off to the side. "This whole war is meaningless! Everything we've done is meaningless! I lost friends and family for no reason! I went through all this trouble to claim this sword from Flame Legion!" He took off the belt holding the sheathed Sohothin and threw it on the ground. "The sword doesn't matter! The Foefire doesn't matter! Flame Legion doesn't matter! Even Blood Legion doesn't matter!" He began undoing the straps that held his armor plates in place.

Oh goodness, Rytlock was in a state that the Commander had never seen him in before. The Commander got up and reached for Rytlock, trying to stop him. "Let's not go that far! All the Charr you fought for in the Citadel - and elsewhere - those are still real people! You fought so they can live on!"

The Tribune pulled himself off his grip and finished loosening one of his shoulderplates to where he could rip it off and throw it away. "To what end? So they can take those lives and throw them away in another war? So they can keep running into Flame Legion and bash each others' heads in over who gets to squat on this place?"

"Say you just threw in the towel - and everyone at the Citadel dies in ignorance. Who does that benefit? If the truth of Ascalon's history is that important to you, let's save the Citadel first! Maybe we can find a way to help other Charr know better, too."

Rytlock was about to undo the straps on his right shoulder piece, but stopped, the Commander was getting through to him. "I know you're angry because you were lied to, but those people in the Fahrar only repeated the same lie they were fed when they were young! They didn't have a choice in the matter, but you do now! If you can't get yourself to care for the Citadel for its own sake, at least do it for the sole purpose of buying time, so that we can teach others what really went down!"

Rytlock stared him down with narrowed eyes, pondering his options. He eventually gave in and sat back down, leaving the rest of his armor on. "Right, so let's hear this grand plan of yours! How do we fix this mess?"

"I don't have a plan, that's the problem. Siding with Flame Legion would mean killing all the others, but even if we could drill the citizens of the Citadel to mount a good defense - you heard what Varrock said."

"Even if we could defeat Flame Legion, both sides would suffer too many losses! We'd be playing right into his hands! But while we're giving Siegeblast the time of day, he also said humans have insights that wouldn't occur to Charr, so let's hear it. Enlighten me with this grand and deep wisdom of humans!"

The Commander shook his head. He knew Rytlock was being facetious but it was not an appropriate time for that. "You should have asked him, not me. I don't know what he meant. I guess it would be something that would occur to a human but not a Charr. It's probably down to us thinking in different ways. Tackling problems in different ways. Right now the problem is the Citadel losing the war. The war is the problem, not the Flame Legion. This war - how long did they say it went on for?"

"Over two-hundred years. Not long after the Charr took Ascalon."

"But why? Why did they fight?"

"For the land. It was a territorial war, it always has been."

"Yes but there has to be another reason than 'for the territory'. Ash Legion, Blood Legion, Iron Legion, all three have Charr all over places tied to the Citadel. And yet you aren't at war with each other."

"We were, sometimes. Iron Legion allows us to settle here. They have a right to expel us.…but even if that were to cross their mind, they can't afford to, they depend on us to not get crushed by Flame Legion."

"You are choosing not to kill each other. Why can't you and the Flame Legion do the same?"

"What, you mean like a truce?"

"A peace agreement. Like the treaty of Ebonhawke."

Rytlock's expression turned from one of troubles and discontent to one of dismissal. "Ebonhawke, you mean the treaty drafted by Jennah? The same Jennah that came up with the treaty of Gendarran Fields? That Jennah? Wow, that really inspires confidence."

"You can criticise Jennah all you like and rightfully so, but you can't argue that Ebonhawke did work at least in one respect. Are Krytans and Charr killing each other right now? No, they're not!"

"Only because both sides were busy with civil wars of our own. Or with dragons. Without those, who knows how long this peace will last?"

"The war in Kryta ended, and yet the Krytans aren't mobilizing against Ascalon, they're rebuilding the country. Peace is an option. You just have to try."

Rytlock eased up and began staring off into the distance. Quietly. Pondering the possibility. "If it was possible, it would kill two birds with one stone. It would get Flame Legion off our backs and it'd throw a wrench into Siegeblast's plans. But still, making peace with Flame Legion? After everything they've done? Despite everything they're still doing? They'll continue slaying Gladia for not swearing allegiance."

"It's like with the Shining Blade and the Separatists. We treated the Flame Legion like an irredeemable enemy that needs to be destroyed. Nothing was seen as so bad that we would withhold on it. Any shaman or civilian on their side that we could kill, we killed them. They're just returning the gesture in kind. There are no innocents in this war. You've got to see that."

Rytlock got up again. They both understood without a word. This was exactly what Varrock was talking about. The solution that wouldn't occur to a Charr - at least not without help - was to conclude the war without fighting its last battle.

They bode their time, waited throughout the next day and endured the occupation of the next village and the subsequent executions, as they had when they were prisoners. Then in the evening, at a time when they knew the Imperator's duties for the day were winding down, they approached him together. Garadin was looking down from his solid throne, still bearing what parts of his armor didn't obstruct him from sitting. Watching his female captives dance for his amusement.

The Commander and Rytlock stepped in front of him. Upon seeing that they intended to come closer, the Imperator waved for the slaves to move out of the way. The Commander decided to start talking before Rytlock could jeopardize their chances of succeeding. "Imperator Baelfire. We want to talk."

The Imperator scratched one of his imposing horns and looked down to them with a fierce gaze in his eyes. The Commander could see his anticipation for the coming bloodbath, he was looking forward to it. "Then now is the time." He got up and walked down the stairs. "What do you want?"

"I would rather if I didn't need to raise my voice. Too many unwanted ears." The Imperator understood and went all the way down the stairs, until he was close enough to the Commander and Rytlock where they could almost whisper and still hear each other and all three were far enough from any of the women chained to his throne. Now, with a lowered voice, the Commander elaborated: "The attack on the Citadel - you're making a mistake. Varrock is planning to turn on you."

"His troops march with ours and they do good work taking out the Citadel's defenses in the field. I have him to thank for everything around us. Your ploy is clear as day. You are out of options and now seek to drive a wedge into our new axis."

"He told you to take us along, didn't he? Why do you think that is? He wants us to prop up the Citadel so they can mount as much of a defense as possible to blow up the casualties on both sides!"

Garadin folded up his arms and looked down on both the Commander and Rytlock, his height allowed him to do it even from even footing. "There will be no casualties from our side. We will melt the Citadel from a safe distance. The legions will burn long before they have the chance to reach even one of us. The furnace will ensure that."

The Commander and Rytlock exchanged looks. They knew about the furnace, and as things stood, the Imperator's reasoning was sound. But Varrock was too confident of what he was saying, something about all of this seemed off. "I will have none of your antics! Return to your carriage and leave me alone."

They had little choice but to oblige. Just accusing Varrock of planning to turn on them wouldn't work. They were at their wits' end. There wasn't much of a stretch left between here and the Citadel. All they could hope for was that they could use what little time they would be given to evacuate the Citadel. What followed were a few weeks of tense daily travels and cold nights with an oppressive silence between the three former prisoners.

Then finally, came the day when they came in sight of the walls surrounding the perimeter of Smokestead Village. Looking up from the ground, they blocked sight of the Citadel, but everyone knew it was right behind it, even those among the cheering footsoldiers who had never been here before. "This close and no closer!", the Imperator ordered before descending the stairs from his throne.

One by one, supplymen and scouts spread the message, causing every troop to stop as it reached them. "This close and no closer!"

"This close and no closer!"

Others brought large horns, custom-made to amplify his voice and broadcast it far and wide, so that everyone in the army could hear it.

"Legionnaires!", the Imperator announced: "Today marks a major day - perhaps THE most major day of our history in Ascalon! It took a short but bitter war to rip this land from the humans. It took a much longer war to decide which army gets to keep it. In their weakness and ineptitude, the legions always struggled to not be outbred by our superior social model and saw themselves forced to unite against us! They have struck down our troops time and time again, generation after generation. But our tenacity prevailed! Every time they struck us down, we came back stronger. Until finally, we came back so strong, forged by necessity and centuries of trial and error, that they stood no chance before our might and crumbled before we had a chance to clash blades. Now we stand at their gates and they are defenseless. Ready the furnace!"

The Commander stopped. "Wait…they can't start the furnace yet!" He got off their carriage and ran to the Imperator. "You can't be serious! I need some time to get there first!"

Garadin held off on whatever other words he had prepared and addressed the Commander. "So that you can lead the legions to safety? I don't think so! The whole point of melting the Citadel is to kill the Charr in the enemy's ranks, BEFORE they have a chance to flee."

In-between their sudden confrontation, the Commander looked back and forth between Garadin and the parts of the furnace, which the Shamans were already assembling while they spoke. "You said you'd let us go whenever we want."

"You aren't in chains, who's holding you? Besides, I also said I wouldn't stop our assault for your sake. Continue the preparations!", he said with new strength in his voice, stretching out his arms with his sword drawn. "It was a tough road to march! Let this be in memory of every Flame Legionnaire who fell holding off the Citadel's goons, so that we could stand here today! Let us remember the allies who gave us the means to conquer and unite the way we have now! And let us remember my sire, Gaheron Baelfire, whom the self-proclaimed paragons of morality in the Pact and the Legions slaughtered in cold blood, along with all his supporters, man, woman and child alike!"

Rytlock and Rox since had joined the Commander. All three of them were unable to stop it. There was no time to run to the Citadel and evacuate. They could only watch as the mechanisms were flipped and both halves joined into that dreaded tube and Shamans finished their preparations. Honestly, the Commander didn't believe it could go this far.

As he watched the Shamans begin to channel their fire magic towards the furnace, he couldn't get the doubts about the furnace's prospects out of his mind. Something about it didn't make sense, it never did, he thought about this every day since Varrock had told them about his ambitions.

If the Flame Legion could just melt the Citadel without any casualties of their own, they wouldn't be easy pickings for Varrock's new legion. But Varrock knew about the furnace, he knew for certain that they had it, he was there every time they used it. Why would he not account for something that would get in the way of his plan so easily?

But as the Shamans got the furnace ready to fire and the steel began to emanate the discomforting heat that preceded its deployment, the Commander would finally have his answer.

One of the Imperator's callers spotted something, pointed in the air and shouted: "Enemy over - no - everywhere! Enemy all around us!"

Strange objects shot through the air, drawing trails where they passed through. They all came from elevated positions either atop some of Ashford's many tall rock formations, or on the wall ahead of them. And they all headed straight for the glowing furnace. They were rockets, fired from many positions at once, just like when the Lionguard's airships attacked in Kryta.

Archers and shamans not busy with charging up the furnace tried to invoke waves of fireballs to fire at the rockets. They hit some of them, causing them to explode before they hit their target, but not all of them. Not by far. Many of them struck the furnace, denting the steel and lodging themselves inside it. Knowing what would happen, everyone present including the Imperator ran around the stairs to take cover. A shrill sound rang around the area, followed by an ear-shattering blast that launched waves in all directions that were so strong, they carried debris everywhere they went.

The Commander, Rytlock, Rox and Garadin stayed behind the side of the throne's stairs, together with several of Garadin's prisoners, waiting out the followup of the explosion. When the noise and the wind currents died down and random chunks of wood and steel stopped flying about, they came forward to look at the destruction. Everywhere, Flame Legion Charr had been injured, many had been caught in the explosion, many of their carriages were destroyed and the furnace was broken up and deformed in several places.

"No!" the Imperator shouted. When another explosion shook the ground, he knew what it was, and one of his scouts confirmed it.

"The other one's gone too! Both furnaces have been destroyed!"

More and more explosions erupted in nearby camps, followed by scouts arriving with more grave news. "Spike Warband's Cauldron has been destroyed!"

"Razor Warband's Cauldron has been destroyed!"

"Ember Warband's Cauldron has been destroyed!"

And it wasn't limited to those three, not by far. It was clear that the Separatists and Renegades had no intention of letting Garadin use his new weapons and systematically destroyed all of them in quick succession.

Strengthening the grip on his sword, the Imperator swung it with enough force to lodge its blade into one of the stairs, so much so that he could let go of it without it moving or falling. "Siegeblast…" he mumbled, as the realization dawned on him. That when the Commander and Rytlock warned him, they were telling the truth. That his mentor and greatest ally had betrayed him and was plotting an even greater betrayal.

He roared, with a force amplified by the horns set up around him. Roared with such rage that it echoed throughout the plains, all throughout the Citadel. Some even claimed in the aftermath that they could hear it from as far as Lion's Arch.

"SIEGEBLAAAST!"