Chapter 82 – Aftermath

Kairon slept easily that night. At least for what remained of it. He didn’t wake until well into the afternoon. Squeezing the sleep from his eyes he stood, stretching his taut muscles. A sharp crack in his spine made him wince.

Reaching back, he rubbed the spot as he let out a long yawn.

“Tsk, tsk. Acting as if you were one of the little ones fighting.”

“Good morning to you too, Sythara.” He spotted the demoness bent over her tools and bowls in the corner of the room, measuring something or the other. She stood up, utensils and half ground bones clattering to the floor. Paying it no mind, the demoness pointed at him.

“I’ve been waiting for you, child. I thought you might sleep the entire day away.”

“Ah. I take it there’s something you want?”

A knowing smile covered her lips. “Perhaps. Last night went well, did it not?”

“It did…” said Kairon slowly. He reached over, finding his staff and starting to shuffle to the door. “Speaking of, I need to go and see to matters. Whatever this is about can wait. Shiny and the brood have been hiking all night. Orders need to be given.” Without waiting for a reply, he drew his attention inwards and called upon Sovereign Eye. Vision spinning, he shot outwards to the warzone.

He briefly heard an indignant squeal of protest from his void councilor, but decided this would serve as a good lesson in patience for the troublesome woman.

Instead, he focused on the battlefield. Or, rather, what was left of it.

Gone was the smoldering field of orange and red that had been the stage for last night’s performance. In its place was an enormous crater carved unevenly into the hellscape. Kairon estimated that at its center, the depression was at least fifty meters deep. Maybe twice as much. He really couldn’t tell from here.

Around the edges of it, Shiny and eighty some brood imps were chittering and pointing. Several even were trying to climb down the damn thing, only stopped by his supervisor’s ire.

With a start, Kairon realized he needed to recheck his population readout. Quickly, he pulled up his interface before doing anything else.

Seventy-seven. With today’s freshly spawned warriors already present, that meant he’d lost seventy-seven warriors in last night’s skirmishes. That number of casualties measured five higher than it’d been before he’d fallen asleep.

Those must have been warriors that had succumbed to their wounds.

The city lord reminded himself that despite the heavy losses, they were losses well spent.

He spared a moment to check in on the city. Within its walls, the warriors from last night had already returned at some point. He couldn’t see any wounded from here, but assumed they were resting safely in the rookeries. Vorathrex was back too. The great giant was slumped against the eastern walls, body covered in gashes and fresh welts.

However, his four arms remained. None had been lost this time. In fact, the two stumps had grown steadily in the past weeks. Kairon gave it another month and the damn things might actually be back.

Were they supposed to grow back like that?

Those thoughts brought his mind to his own damaged appendages. He added speaking about the topic with Vorathrex to his to-do list. There might be a way for him to heal his body yet.

Turning his attention back to the crater, his mood improved greatly. Last night had come at a cost. One that it was time to cash in on.

Already, a pile of armor, corpses, weapons, and debris had been started. Much of the looted gear was damaged, melted, or basically scrap. But loot it was.

Leading up to the pile, a dozen paths of displaced hellscape with little ruts were evidence of the dragging the brood had been up to. Even now, six imps were tugging the upper half of a paladin’s torso towards the growing hill. Another six were carrying clawfuls of what appeared to be scrap metal from a sword. Two more were dragging a spear that actually looked like it was in decent condition.

That wasn’t the issue. Shiny had done his job, starting asset recovery operations promptly. Unfortunately, neither Kairon nor Shiny had noticed one little detail last night.

He enabled the mental connection with the little imp. “Shiny. It seems the explosion from the ichor last night sent many of our… friends much further away from the battlefield than we anticipated.”

From his view, he made out countless such occurrences. At a rough count, over fifty golden humanoid corpses had been shot hundreds of meters from the battlefield. Some even further.

More concerningly, there was shrapnel and debris scattered throughout a massive area. Scavenging it was going to be… difficult.

“Shiny, work is cancelled until further notice. I want our full focus to be on recovering anything of value. Highest priority is for signets and medallions on the paladins. I want them brought back in batches as soon as they are identified. The next priority is any intact metal, gold, or items of value. Lastly, anything else you think the city might need. Fabrics, leathers, burlap. Anything. Oh! And stay out of the crater. It has its own purpose to play later. Then we’ll explore it.”

The little supervisor couldn’t reply through the link, but he turned, nodding towards the city. Then, as if a thought had struck him, he pointed with his little claw to the left. Then the right. Then behind. And, lastly, to the front.

He spun again, gesturing at the tower.

Hmm? Directions? He was fairly certain Shiny wanted directions. For the bodies and scavenging, maybe?

When Shiny grabbed a stick and waved again, understanding dawned.

Ah! Great idea, my boy. Great idea!

With gusto, Kairon set off to mentally direct Shiny on drawing a crude map of his surroundings, and including where the biggest concentration of corpses was.

From there, Shiny himself started giving orders. As the brood imps set out, Kairon used Sovereign Eye to fine tune their directions and nudge them in the specific directions needed.

Collaboration!

***

“It’s a no,” Kairon said flatly.

“But why?” whined Sythara.

“Because I said so. Now I’m quite busy. I need to go check in with the warriors,” he replied in exasperation.

“I just waited here for the last two hours while you stood around doing absolutely nothing! You owe me a better answer than because you said so, child.”

“I was organizing the recovery of—no, you know what. I’m not getting into it.” He started walking towards the citadel exit, waving his claws at the pouting demoness. “Tell ya what. I’m not giving you any of the medallions we recover to experiment on. Not yet. But, I will let you observe and poke around at them under my supervision later. Is that fair?”

A frustrated growl came from the tower. “Fine.”

Grinning, Kairon stepped outside and made for the rookeries. He’d barely made it halfway there when a towering giant of a demon lumbered to meet him.

“Fledgling,” greeted Vorathrex.

“Vorathrex! Glad to see you. Great work last night. You made all of us here proud. Very proud,” congratulated Kairon.

The big demon only snorted. “It is my job. To consume. I wish I would have had more time to do so. Last night’s battle was… brief.” Then, after a brief hesitation, he went on. “Which was thanks to your… tactics, I suppose.”

Tactics. He’d said tactics!

Kairon nearly choked. “Did… Did you just… Vorathrex. Repeat that last bit again!”

“Bah!” He shoved the piece of ashroot into his mouth, chewing loudly. “That… That is enough of that.”

Despite how he was acting, Kairon could tell the big guy didn’t leave the battle unscathed either. The blood had caked and scabbed over his massive muscles, but he moved more gingerly.

Pausing for a moment, Kairon gave his wrath councilor a sincere nod. “Thank you, Vorathrex.”

Laughing, the demon flared his nostrils. “You think this is over? Those golden humans may have been stronger, but they were fooled too easily.”

“Indeed, Vorathrex. Indeed.” Then, dropping his voice, Kairon spoke softly. “Keep this between us for now. I want everyone to celebrate the victory. But… I think what we’ve done equates less to a victory and more to kicking over a hornet’s nest. One that we had no choice but to kick, mind you. But one that we’ve drawn the attention of nonetheless.”

A spark of excitement burned in his general’s expression at that. “Oh? You think?”

“I do. I expect the next time we face our golden friends, it won’t be so easy. So rest. Heal. Train. I’ll have some new toys in store for you soon, if my plans work out.”

“What kind of toys?”

“That’s for later. For today, why don’t you join me. I was going to check in on the warriors.”

The general grunted in approval. “Check on the warriors?” The thought seemed to confuse the big guy. “I did not know fledglings cared about such things.”

Kairon halted, frowning. “What?! Such things? Do you mean the injured warriors? Of course I care! They fought on my orders, for this city. To protect not only me, but the other imps. By the system, Vorathrex, they didn’t just fight. They won. The little monsters did it. I mean of course I sat in the tower and concocted a plan, but mind you no plan survives implementation unscathed. The warriors were the ones to actually enact the dangerous part. Now, I don’t know about you, but I fully intend to ensure their needs are seen to.”

Vorathrex just stared at him for a long moment. Something shifted behind that gaze. Kairon wasn’t sure what. Surprise? Confusion? Both? Either way, the silence had begun to get a bit awkward, so the city lord decided that was enough of that.

He turned back around, limping forward as fast as his frozen claw would let him.

***

The Hall of Rays shook under the chaos. Bishops ran to and fro, rushing to find their seats. Instead of the usual two golden paladins, a full squad of a dozen lined the doorway. A champion stood at their head, orange crown gleaming.

Arthur Demetri strode through the double doors, not even glancing at the hellish nightmare that was the waiting lobby. He’d left William and his own aides there to deal with that mess.

He started to find his way to his seat, only to be halted by a trio of bishops from his own following. “Father Demetri! Thank The Five! We’ve been hearing quite a lot,” hissed the front of the three.

“Indeed!” agreed the second. They leaned forward as if dropping their voice, but the words spoken were anything but quiet. “The Sixth Crest has gone dim! It’s gone dim!” they practically shouted.

“Yes! Yes I heard this as well. Tell us it’s not true, father. That Bre—”

Demetri clapped. Despite the chaos of the chamber, the priests recoiled at the noise. Seeing he got them to shut up, he went on. “Gentlemen. Please take your seats. I’m told the emergency conclave will be discussing matters that should bring more enlightenment about the situation.”

“But father, you—”

“Take your seats,” repeated Demetri slowly. “Go!”

Seeing they would get nowhere else, the lower ranking bishops bowed their heads and shuffled off.

Demetri could hardly believe the spectacle before him. In the Solarium of all places. Well. He could believe it. He just didn’t want to.

Or maybe he did… After all, wasn’t this the sword of truth his people desperately needed?

William’s rubbing off on me, it seems.

The high bishop raised one hand, signalling Bishop Harren in the seat above. His supporter was sitting patiently in the arbiter seat. At his beckoning, he stood hastily.

“Order! Order!” shouted Bishop Harren.

Conversations starting to settle, Demetri rushed to find his own chair before anyone else could pester him.

“This emergency conclave is called to order! We speak in the light or not at all,” intoned the acting arbiter Harren.

Of the hundred or so chairs in the room, nearly every single spot was full. The most Demetri had ever seen at a conclave.

“Sponsored by Archbishop Klive, The Conclave will immediately yield the floor. Your worship.”

Since entering the room, Demetri had been very precise in both his movements and where he laid his eyes.

Now, unfortunately, he had no choice but to actually look at the archbishop. He nearly regretted it the moment he did so.

Klive’s pupils were bloodshot, his skin was pale, and a permanent furrow had grown on his brow. Even the white and golden robes he wore were in a poor state. Ruffles, stains, and even a minor tear in the collar.

Rising from his seat, Klive made his way to the center of the floor. The chamber had gone deathly silent, save the soft rustling of fabric and shuffling of parchment.

When the archbishop reached the center of the floor by the dais, he stopped. Rays of fresh sun spilled down, illuminating the old man. It made him seem more than a touch divine.

A feeling that shattered like glass at his words.

“My patience has run out. My patience with my city. With my people. With my colleagues.” He growled, finally breaking eye contact with Demetri only to find the other four archbishops instead. “With my fellow archbishops.”

Archbishop Seraine of Vigil seemed like she wanted to say something, but a stern cough from the acting arbiter kept her seated. For now.

“Many of you may have heard rumors of startling tales about the dimming of the Sixth Crest. Of foreboding signs for the hand it represents.”

A gentle ripple of nods and noises of assent echoed from many in the tiered seating.

“I’m here to set those rumors to rest,” said Klive. “To come here and to ensure that each of you knows that the Sixth Crest did not go dim.”

This time, sighs of relief came from a far larger group of the bishoprics. Like their breath was but held, only now let out. Most of the lower ranking bishops relaxed in their seats. Fists unclenched, tired smiles shone on faces, and goblets were brought to lips for a quick sip.

Only, a select group weren’t relaxing. Most of the high bishops—all of whom were notably present—and the rest of the archbishops were not. Their expressions were very much on edge. Demetri did his best to school his features and remain calm, but judging by the growing unease in the seats above him his attempts weren’t fooling anyone.

A little laugh escaped Klive’s lips. Demetri winced. It sounded more mad than joyful.

“In fact,” went on Klive, “the Sixth Crest is working fully as intended. It’s doing quite well indeed. Right now, if any of you were to see it, you’d thank The Five for the job it’s done.”

The unease was growing now. Confusion and uncertainty building in the crowd.

“You see, sons and daughters of The Five, The Sixth Crest of the sixth hand, led by my son, Lord Paladin Brexin, didn’t go dim. Nor did the gems of his paladins.” Klive adjusted his robe, pausing for a moment. Then, without a care in the world, he spoke three words.

“It went out.”