Kernoel77
patreon
Chapter 75: Associations
🕑 Added 2023-04-08 23:45:28 +0000 UTCChapter 75: Associations
/Ah yes, necromancy. A Skill so rarely mentioned in the story of a hero, yet so popularly associated with evil. Yet, why? Perhaps because it rips the souls of unwilling participants back from beyond the grave and forces them into eternal servitude? Perhaps, but it is not all.
The people of Chronagen have often been pragmatic and practical. Necromancy is tolerated if it stands by one's side. If the soldier of the country you live in kills someone, that's fine, as long as they're an outsider, but if an outsider wants to get revenge, well that's just asking to have their country destroyed, no?
Necromancy is thusly seen as evil, not because the participants' souls are forced to serve, but because it might be the soul of someone close, and because it might affect one personally. Necromancy is not frowned upon because of the general "evil" it inherently has as part of it, but rather because of the fear that oneself might someday be submitted to its effects.
This, of course, is hypocrisy, and ridiculous. How are the lives of those you dislike worth less than yours? Certainly, many people might make the argument of karma, yet looking at people, that which one might call negative karma, another might call positive. Is killing in defending a good act, is conquering to feed the starving a good act? Is it moral or immoral to kill those who have little to do with a war, simply because they happen to be in a city that's in the way?
Even looking beyond our mainland countries, and beyond just our continent, perhaps we should instead infer upon the demons? There it is simply normal for them to be at war with the devils. Certainly, the two races despise each other, and if they manage to make peace it certainly won't be until one of them has died out, yet, it is not because of the war they hate.
Simply put, the reasons demons and devils could never get along is because of ideological differences. Devils like cunning deals and contracts, demons enjoy indulging in their urges firstly and tricking others as a second. This has sparked such incredible hatred over the years, all through broken deals, insulted pride, and general misdemeanor.
Yet, neither demons nor devils resent each other for the actual acts they are committing on the battlefield. No matter if one has razed another's house to the ground and incinerated their family to ash, it's all but par for the course. The war rages on, with the flames of hatred burning bright, yet it is never the slaughter itself that feeds the fire.
This is why demons usually are less apprehensive when it comes to utilizing sinister magic, such as brands, illusions, necromancy, darkness and such things. The very same that us humans have come to despise, some nations opting to simply whip slaves into shape instead of utilizing brands which force obedience. Is that more moral or not?
Well, I refuse to be the judge of such. Slavery in general is, in my eyes, and those of any person with half a brain, a concept of the past, and should long have been outlawed, right alongside any and all methods of brainwashing. As my college, Dr. Acula, has made a great effort to talk on this topic before, I shall refer to his writings instead, but I can assure you that I fully support him and his views regarding said discussion./
An excerpt from "Necromancy and Morality" by Mary Sillet.
- - - - - -
The next time Mercury stopped his meditation, was upon being pricked by a knife.
"Ah! What the hell?" he asked, opening his eyes, and once more coming face to face with only darkness.
"Can you hear me?" someone else asked right back. The voice itself was unfamiliar and hoarse, its tone that of a whetstone gliding over a steel blade. It sent a slight shiver down Mercury's spine, something eerie behind it, that despite the slightly grating sound, the person behind it was cool, collected, and barely staying on the hinges.
"Nope, not at all," Mercury responded without hesitation, more to calm himself down than anything else, only to feel a sharp pain on his side a moment later. "Agh!"
"I am not very patient," the voice hissed from behind the veil of darkness. "Answer properly or I'll cut you up." Whoever was speaking, Mercury could very clearly feel that they were serious, and that he might actually die if he messed around a little too much.
"Got it. What do you need?"
"Why are you here?" the voice asked again, this time coming slightly from his left.
"To find Iris."
"Why?"
"I consider her a friend," Mercury answered honestly, only to be rewarded with a shallow cut on his left flank.
"Who are you?"
"Mercury Rainfall Starlight, godseeker and aspiring mage."
"From?"
"The U.S.?" Another cut. "Yeowch! That was the truth though, what the hell?!"
"Tsk. Bastard, who are the people you're here with?"
"Yvette and Lucia?"
For a moment Mercury heard a small rustling sound, and then things were quiet again.
"Fine, your payment has been considered adequate. Consider yourself a member. Expose us, and we'll find you. How do you want to be taken into the room, 'client'?" They said the word client rather sharply, but it seemed as though Mercury had somehow succeeded? He was still blind though.
"What are my options?"
"I can carry you, or drag you there with a lead."
"Can you carry the chair?"
"What's your rank?"
"D right now."
"I can, then," the voice said, and soon Mercury felt himself being hoisted up. After maybe a minute or two, he was then set down again, in a room that was a little warmer. Maybe the air tasted better too, but he couldn't really tell at all.
"Ah, all of you have made it, I see," Mercury heard another voice say, this one smooth and calm. "Well then, I shall hand out the cards for our new clients. Please, do take good care of them. They incinerate immediately upon being seen by anyone who isn't part of our organisation and-"
"How does that work?" Mercury asked curiously.
"I WILL STANGLE YOU IF YOU INTERRUPT ME AGAIN!! Haaaah," the voice took a deep breath before continuing in the same smooth tone from before. "Right, it will disintegrate if anyone sees it. So, keep it close, keep it safe, take care of it. I'm sure Yvette will go over the specifics once you're out, isn't that right, dear?"
"Fine."
"Thank you so very much," the person said with a quiet giggle. "Now then, you will find the cards with you upon leaving. What have you come to us for today?"
"I wish to know the location of Iris Belrose," Mercury heard Lucia say, confirming that indeed all three of them were in the room. Her voice seemed slightly shaky, maybe because she hadn't talked in a while or wasn't used to this kind of treatment. Well, she'd have to get off her high horse just this once, but up until now it didn't seem like a big problem, so he was sure it would be fine.
"What price are you willing to pay?" the smooth voice from before asked again, seeming a little closer this time.
"My life," she said, resolutely, and Mercury thought he could feel the room heating up.
"Well, that is a promise," the negotiator said from the dark, leaving another light giggle. "Yet, for our purposes we need people alive, as our eyes and ears, yes? Perhaps there are things only you would know to tell us, dear 'Voice of Order'?"
Mercury heard Lucia grit her teeth a little, and once more the room heated up. "I will not spill the secrets of my church, not before the last drop of my blood has been spilled," she hissed.
"Well, well, well, someone might need to pay up then. If there are no secrets, will you pay in blood or in coin?" Almost immediately when those words had escaped into the air, Mercury felt another chill. Something about that threat was more real than he would like, and his <Intuition> was ringing bells in his head.
"Coin," Lucia said, through gritted teeth.
The voice in the dark replied with a sigh. "The most boring of them all," it said. "Fine, a spark, then."
"That is-"
"And two more for the insult when you knocked," it added.
"I- this goes beyond my personal fortune."
"Secrets or blood," the voice asked in a whisper, and Mercury could feel the sinister smile hang in the air.
"I'll pay in secrets," he said. Things were escalating, and if he had to make a bet, this was what he would be betting on.
"Speak, beast."
"I am here from another place, where I have already gone through death," he said calmly, his voice threatening to shake, but being forced to sound steady.
For a moment, a clap resounded through the room, followed with a laughter that sounded like a gasp for air. "Hiiiii, Hiiiiii, now that is a secret and a half! Good, good! One more secret and we may have found a deal."
Mercury furrowed his brows a little, thinking of what he could say without too much danger. This didn't seem like the kind of organisation that he wanted all his data to have. But what was there still? "... The Gloryhall in Stormbraver has a hot spring?"
"..."
"..."
"..."
"I mean, it is a secret, I was specifically told not to talk about it."
"... Fine, I will count it this time. Know that your first sentence weighed more than the last, Mercury, and know that next time, you might need to bring more. Consider this a first trade in good faith of your value, and perhaps the perks you bring as an otherworlder."
"Thanks."
"Now then, for your query, we shall provide you with a map of where exactly Iris can be found. Would you like to protect her information in the future?" the voice asked, much friendlier now.
"I would," Lucia said, "same as that of mine and Mercury. Is there any way I can give specific people free access?"
"All comes with a price, priestess," the voice replied. "Your information will always be costly, even to those you trust, but simply whisper instructions to your card and we can make simple arrangements. Your information will be protected as long as your funds and contributions are high enough."
"So you will sell me out if there comes a higher bidder?"
"Perhaps, perhaps not. We may invest in certain people for the future as well, you see."
"I don't," Mercury said jokingly, only to feel a couple of stinging glares on himself.
"Good, you will leave now then. Only contact us when you have something to pay with. You may contribute using our card, and you will have to pay if you lose it. Good day."
And before any of the group had a chance to respond, the world went black once more.
- - - - - -
Far up north, in Evlenor.
"My king, the frontlines in the plains of Kirl are barely holding, we need reinforcements," one of the generals said.
It was at a round table meeting, where discussion to determine the future of the country were held. Of course, the decision was always that of king Fulthur, but his advisors had worked with him for many years, and he at least allowed them to speak their mind.
"Fine, send a couple of our riders there. Tell the first prince he needs to take command there, second general Jule can take over his post," Fulthur said with a sigh. He had been rash in his decision to fight a war, yet, he was in deep, and prepared to go deeper. There was no future in the mountains, he knew that, and there was no future with diplomacy, he knew that much too.
The kings of the north were usually short lived, perhaps expiring a few years past 50, but the frost always claimed them in the end. He himself was approaching 40, and already felt the weight of his years in his bones, but luckily the system alleviated some of those effects. Otherwise he might as well be a grandpa by now, hah!
Then again, if not for the war his first son might already have children. Those were partly what he was fighting this battle for, because the mountains seemed to get colder every year. Perhaps some ancient spirit of ice was marching in, perhaps the winters had simply been cruel these last few years, whatever the case, they could not remain in his birthplace for the rest of their time.
Simply put, there was too much trouble. The cold winters, the short summers, the ruined harvests and failed hunts... he had seen the last of his people starve, and if it was necessary he would use up every spark of life he had to carve a path through Nevarzahri. He had hoped that perhaps one of his most trusted generals might make their capital fall, but the church priestess had unfortunately destroyed the chance of that.
It was almost to the point where he was considering diplomacy, but Fulthur knew it still wasn't an option. The city council was fair to those but in Nevarzahri, but if he sought harbour in their lands? It is unlikely they would accept it.
Bad blood dried slowly, after all, and there had been too much between Nevarzahri and Evlenor from the start. Perhaps he could convince one or two of those old fools, but all of them? No, that was unlikely. Never could have, they would only agree if he sacrificed the flesh and blood of his people, giving up their heritage, and all of their wealth. Maybe not even because of greed, but simply because they were short on money.
After all, he knew the council was short on money, especially after that last stunt he had pulled. Still, even before the war, they had been paying debts to the Merchants' Guild and Nobles before, though that debt would certainly have lessened over time. He never understood the fascination with nobles, either. They were an Aristocracy, why still have those sniveling weasels leech off the people?
No, that was also something he couldn't compromise on. The existence of nobles that would reign over his people in his stead was something he could not tolerate. Evlenor may not have been the largest nation, but it was one of the toughest, and imagining some soft, greedy son of a bitch telling his soldiers who to fight... the thought made him want to puke. No, he would win this war, simple as it was.
"Have any new heroes arisen?" he asked into the round, looking over his advisors, those that stood by him loyally over the years.
"One, Fulthur," a general to his right said. It was Eevi, a woman from the same village he was from, his childhood friend, and stubborn enough that he thought she might be able to crack a rock with her skull. "Young lass in my squad, smart and resourceful. She's quick, fast on her feet, and deadly."
"Send the lass to Kirl as well," he said. "Those plains have good earth, we need to secure them or we won't have enough supplies."
"Very well, my king!" the woman replied, snapping out a salute and retreating back a step, giving other advisors the chance to speak.
For a little while longer they talked about strategy. Securing supply chains, whittling down enemy camps with nightly charges, rotating shifts, guerilla units, funding a few sellswords with what they had plundered, and making sure their mines were secure to keep the weapons flowing.
It was late at night when Fulthur finally had the time to retreat back to his chambers, a large, stable tent, that was still quick to disassemble. He took a short stroll around it beforehand, quickly rubbing his face with light snow to wipe away some of the fatigue. The sky was dark, and beautiful, the many stars sparkling like the eyes of his love on the day when he met her.
She was out there as well, fighting for their people. No matter what he said, she refused to leave her sons alone in the battlefield, and had made a point of personally going from one to the other, whenever she could. The first one needed little help, a strategist and warrior to his core, but the second would rather have his nose in books than anything else.
Still, Fulthur had high hopes for his second son. While the boy liked to read, his soul burnt with passion for their country and their people, and the current king was certain that the second might outdo the first as a strategist.
Their third was still a boy, barely twelve, yet he was a boy old enough to swing a weapon, and he practiced every single night. When practicing, he also oftentimes tried to escape, and his mother would snatch him up before he'd gone more than a dozen steps. Sometimes that instinct of her was frightening, and he pitied the boy when she decided to "politely inform" him of what he was to do.
Fulthur shook his head a little, and headed into his tent, the furs keeping the heat in. He sat down on the side of his bedroll. He didn't dare lay down yet, in fear that sleep would consume him too soon. In his old days, the fatigue of such meetings wore on him more than he would like to admit, and certainly more than he wanted to show.
And thus, the king used his last moments before slumber to think once more. He thought on whether this fight was one that he should continue, and whether it was one that was worthwhile. He thought of how to continue, which locations to prioritize, which hero to send where, and also which heroes to watch out for.
Perhaps they would need another development program for young recruits, having lost some promising talent in the assault on Stormbraver. He had ordered for them to escape if things were dire, yet their chance was lost when they were locked up.
The old king shook his head once more. There had been too much blood spilled now. This was a war he needed to fight, a war he had to win, a war that his people depended on. He did not intend to let them down, and just as he had today, he would face all those problems tomorrow again. Head-on, stubborn, and to the best of his ability, he would do it.
He would lead his people to prosperity.
