V10: Chapter 8

  …

  The only thing stopping me from becoming an alcoholic is the fear that becoming an alcoholic will lead me to making a shit decision.

  So, I made do with clearing out four whole days for rest and relaxation and heading into my ‘personal study.’

  Otherwise known as my man cave with robot butlers.

  I had one at every Citadel now.

  “I want chicken-fried steak with sausage gravy and biscuits.” The ring returned to me by Ayah after sending the Death Goddess away interpreted my thoughts. The ingredients were produced by the Citadel, then taken by the Citadel Guardians to be cooked. It can make the food fresh, but part of the appeal of food was the sight and smell of cooking. “Make me a pitcher of ice-cold cola, too. For dessert, I want… a cheesesteak sandwich with extra cheese and onions.”

  Basking in the aromas, sounds, and smells, I made the chair I sat on recline and had air conditioning blow straight at me. When I got chilly, one of the Guardians brought me a comfy, weighted blanket.

  Snuggled up in a pseudo-bed with chilly air blasting my face, while I was wrapped up just right in a fluffy warm blanket… I took a deep and calming breath before letting out the word that I wanted to release.

  “Fuuuuuuuuuaaacccchhhhhhkkkkkkkkkkk. This shit’s bad.” No one was around to judge me. I could bask in my ability to complain to myself. The combination of having to relive all my shitty memories and finding a bad result made me want to run away. Hell, I had half a mind to lock people out of the Citadel and just hold on for dear life until people got through the armies of Guardians that I could command. But I couldn’t. Not now. “They’re almost here.”

  I’m turning twenty-six in the next couple of months. I was seven when this all started. Nineteen years. Four turns to a year. Turning seventy is around the corner, and that’s when everything starts to kick off. The longest game is just 160 turns, or forty years. On average they’re closer to thirty-five years. Meaning that I’m really past the mid-game now, and now it’s all time for all the stat checks to come knocking, as all the crisis factions are going to hit us from every angle.

  There were some silver linings.

  Four Citadels and four full army stacks were a massive deal. Not to mention the ‘passive’ militias and roaming Guardian swarms I had running around. Even with all the losses of Iterants that I had to endure, there were still ten thousand or so of them ready for combat. Not even counting the ones we have that are working. Population isn’t going to be a problem, and industry was booming. We’re churning out materials in large amounts, getting people in the right places, and surging ahead in terms of technology.

  The average soldier fifteen years ago would be lucky to have chainmail. Usually, they’ll just have padded cloth with some leather. People who spend their lives as mercenaries can work up to armor. They’ll work under a warlord who has some means of acquiring money and supplies, and they’ll receive orders on the field of battle and march where they’ll be told to march. Being able to read and write isn’t required, let alone necessary. If you get injured too badly, you’re out and it’s best you sell off your equipment and find a village or trade in the following caravan.

  Now, the average soldier has had the benefit of better nutrition for the last decade and a half. I’ve made sure that they’ve got their vitamins and that they have their fill of food. All soldiers are prioritized for the medical centers on the Citadel, so they get put back together for the upcoming fight. Anyone still using pikes is in Citadel Alloy armor, and I’m looking to get them armed with close-range firepower to keep melee units at bay. Riflemen are farther along the tech tree with WW1-esque uniforms, packs filled with supplies and rest, and a gun along with a hundred shots. They’re supported by a unit of mages and unit of fliers.

  Forty thousand total, split into 4 divisions. 5-part rifles. 2-part pike. 1-part mages/artillery. 1-part aerial units. Their generals and officers can split them up evenly into four more parts with the logistical tail also being geared towards being portioned. However, there’s only one flying fortress per division, which houses its own complement of fliers and mages and also carries frozen Guardians. Heavy cavalry or powerful infantry like Conquerors gets attached to a division as needed. The same goes for any recon or special forces, which oftentimes are also the Conquerors. They have separate commands since their roles require different mindsets.

  “Hammer and scalpel.” I could rely on a division to fuck up anything and anybody, especially with Champion support. Every test we’ve run against Citadel forces has only one result: complete obliteration of the enemy in the opening months of the war. However, after those opening months, we were going to need to start levying troops from the population. People who’ll fill up gaps after just fifteen weeks of training, instead of being bonafide badasses who live and breathe war and don’t intend to stop. Draftees aren’t professional soldiers… and that’s when things get iffy. “Whatever victory we get will be pyrrhic.”

  The Merchants, Forgers, and Guardians were just massive pains in the ass to fight. Both the Guardians and Merchants could just pull armies out of their ass. The Merchants were starting up breeding camps to make sure that they had enough bodies. Forgers had stupidly high armor, a firm grasp on logistics, and the toughest nut to crack since they’ve centralized everything beneath their Citadel, and all their outlying settlements are just resource-gathering centers. The Guardians were producing rifled muskets by the ton, selling them, and arming skeletons with whatever they couldn’t.

  If they worked together, if the Forgers armored everyone up, the Merchants provided bodies and gold, and the Guardians the industry?

  We’d get only a pyrrhic victory with half our adult population dead.

  Then, the crisis factions can just swoop in and kill us all after we’ve served our asses to them on a silver platter.

  “I really should’ve just gone for the mass-assassination play and ignored the Death Goddess.” It was a knee-jerk reaction. Wardens + Death Goddess had perfect synergy, so I moved to intercept. Now, after finding out that the Death Goddess was operating with a full personality, I know that I could’ve just left that ticking time bomb with Khalai and let it blow up in his face. Hindsight sucks. “Now, instead of rolling the dice on getting a Citadel or two and defending with Citadel Guardians, I’ve got a crazy superweapon on my hands. Fuck.”

  This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.

  I was ready to groan some more and let it all out while wrapped up in a heavy blanket like an egg… then the Guardians came forward with my requested chicken-fried steak with sausage gravy, along with golden-brown, flaky, and fresh biscuits with a tub of rich, yellow butter ready to be applied to it.

  There was still a lot to mope about, as well as plenty more to consider, but for now I’m going to enjoy a nice comfort meal.

  Along with a nice view.

  “Give me some panoramic views of the region.” I ordered, and a wall instantly turned into a screen and showcased some of the frigid, snowy mountains outside. After a second it shifted to a nice view of a nearby valley. It wasn’t television or some hours-long internet documentary, but it was good enough. “Yep, keep that up while I eat.”

  Time for me to rest and relax before tackling the problems ahead.

  …

  Interlude: Eminent Void Blade: She Who Glides Between Sunbeams

  …

  The general of the theatre I was assigned to was a young woman about the same age as my new master.

  A smile split across her face the moment she laid her eyes upon me.

  “Wow, you really might be worth losing all our assassins across the continent for.” She was clad in a heavy, reinforced cloak and some plate armor beneath that. Underneath it, though, was a Supply Center security force undersuit. The Ancients never had the time to give the Citadels the databases and fabricators it needed for truly powerful weapons. “What are your orders?”

  I took the scroll given to me by ‘Ayah’ and presented it wordlessly to the young general. Her hands drifted across my hand for a moment… And I felt something hidden test the toughness of my skin.

  A normal being’s hand would’ve been cut off.

  Mine was not harmed at all.

  A pleased hum left the general’s throat while she unfurled the command before she looked at me again.

  The scroll was superfluous.

  She knew me and my purpose here.

  “Seems that you’ve done something naughty, Miss Goddess. If you fail, I get to kill you and see if I can take that mind of yours apart. Or, if I can’t do that, die to kill you.”

  A refreshing series of words left her lips.

  I looked behind her.

  Conquerors, as they were called now, were behind her. Over five hundred in the immediate vicinity. Behind them still were the fruits of my creator’s machinations: those who have an innate connection to the vast, powerful machines hidden in the veil of reality that allows the manifestation of various phenomena. Finally, overhead, there was a floating castle, covered in layers of ablative armor, and with such thick defenses I could not see the people within an open hold filled with hundreds of combat constructs.

  “Will those orders be necessary, Goddess of Death?”

  My creators operated with efficiency and cold logic. Long ago, their passion and search for glory was snuffed out. Only duty remained within their hearts.

  Here and now?

  There was fire and fury within the hearts of all these warriors.

  How could I not be moved?

  “Such a title is unnecessary. Please, call me Eminent, General.” I raised my skirt ever-so-slightly while bowing my head and performing a curtsy. Not a single whisper came from the assembled. None had any doubt in their general’s judgment. Only her will would decide my fate. “His Majesty’s will binds me, and his orders are absolute. The region he told me to take shall be taken.”

  Morgan’s smiling features, which narrowed her eyes, did not waver at my words.

  “Oh? And what will you do if I don’t let you do that and decide to just get rid of you before you’re a problem, Emi?” She shortened my name, tilting her head from side to side, and played coy. My senses suddenly flared up, and I nearly moved. Something was at the back of my neck. I recognized it. It was a sword meant for killing the undead. She manipulated it using wires and hid it behind me. Even its mere presence weakened me. My heart fluttered. He sent me to a front where he had his strongest agent armed with a weapon perfect for killing me. “What if I decide that I’d rather have that region as a glorious victory rather than give it to you as a way to redeem yourself?”

  I answered her question earnestly.

  “I will rush for the region, and I will take it. I will run from this place to it, harming none here, and do as I have been commanded.” The smile on the general’s face turned into a snarl. I felt more wires manipulated by her flare to life from the packed dirt at my feet. They wrapped around any section of bared skin and began to tighten and squeeze. A normal being would be naught but chunks of meat. Still, I maintained my curtsy and spoke despite the cords of metal trying to crush my neck. “If I am to die, it will be a death from fulfilling my master’s orders.”

  The general laughed humorlessly.

  “So, you’ll run and evade the finest army on the continent, find the warzone you’ve been told to take without support, and kill everyone there by your lonesome?” The general pressed and used the blade at my neck. It moved at fantastic speed, despite being controlled via a single wire. I felt the other wires slacken slightly in its presence. So, it could also weaken magic in its presence. A truly perfect tool for killing me. It proved it by scoring a cut across my cheek. I was scratched by it. Not enough to draw blood, but that was a moot point. It was now before my right eye, ready to try and pierce my brain. “Is that it, Emi?”

  Still, I replied calmly.

  “Yes, general.”

  There was a pause for the first time since the general addressed me.

  I realized that pause was all the time needed for her judgment.

  “Haahhh… I guess his majesty wants me to take a vacation, then. I wanted to give him all the Academy lands held by the Merchants, Wardens, and Forgers, but it looks like you’ll be finishing this campaign off for us.” The wires unwound and vanished into the darkness of her cloak. The blade flew to her and flew into a scabbard floating just a distance over her shoulder. She gave a whistle, and the troops all began to stand down. A young woman appeared to my right. Her stand had been aimed towards my other eye. “But I suppose I’ve only burned a third of the Warden’s churches and clergy away. Maybe he thinks I need to catch up on that.”

  She approached me and was silent for a moment, while I raised my head… and then stretched out my hand.

  “I will need the map. Much has changed in these lands since I was sealed away.”

  “Ah, right. Naturally.” The scheming tricksters, the merciless general craving glory, and now an affable young woman full of life. This one wasted nothing that could be used. A fine general. “Here you go.”

  She even held out the scroll for it to fall into my hands to mark herself as above me.

  Some would call it pettiness.

  They would’ve fallen for the trap set for fools filled with pride.

  “Huh. Not even a twitch. So, you really made a big mistake when you first met him. What’d you do? Destroy one of his maids?” She stood by my side and put an elbow on my shoulder while I unfurled the scroll. She switched from mask to mask as easily as she breathed. “C’mon, you can tell me. It’s not like you’re going to get in any more trouble, Emi.”

  Now, she needled me like an affable superior eager to have leverage on me.

  I obliged.

  “I drank his blood to seal a contract between him and myself forever. As I did, I restrained all the Iterants with him.”

  I did not expect the general to suddenly laugh.

  “Pftahahah! Well, there goes your only chance to get the Guardians under your belt! There’s no way Celia’s going to cede her position to you now!” Morgan straightened up and gave me a few firm smacks to the back and shook her head before laughing again. “AND you probably ‘restrained’ Ayah, too! Pah-haha! Man… wow… you’re going to need to give him the entire continent if you want him to give you any attention now.”

  Those words were meant to demean me, but I simply nodded at them.

  “That is what I shall do.” I told the general.

  The smile that split her face at my words was tight and faint, while her eyes gleamed with barely withheld hate.

  “It better be.”

  With those final words, said with what was likely her true face, I knew that my judgment had not yet passed.