Do not think for a single second that Arascus would suggest a move so principled or so benign. The man is out here to conquer the world! Are we actually having this discussion? And that is nothing to say of the fact that it is Kassandora at his side! Do any of you think that Kassandora would allow such a monumentous decision if she did not see military advantage within it? This is not some aesthetic choice or a usurping of command for one battle, this is possibly the most major strategic decision that will be made throughout the entire war! We all know how difficult Kassandora is to wrangle during the best of times. If the woman thought a move on this scale was a mistake, she would just leave. That is certain.
The White Pantheon has a two to one numerical superiority against Arascus’ Empire. Once the Guguo Revolts are put down, we will be able to bring the full force of the Pantheon down onto his regime. Agreeing to this proposition will change the rules of warfare in a way no one has ever even conceived of. Are all of us really that delusional that we think we will be able to outcompete Kassandora in a totally new style of war? This is her demesne!
Whether Arascus will stick to it is not a question, every single one of us knows that he will. We are talking about the God of Pride, his own ego will not let him break a vow. We are talking about what we are going to do. A beastman is already a terrible animal that is difficult to kill outright. They can take days even to keel over once they’ve finally been struck with a blow that should be fatal. Are we going to heal Beastmen? A Sorcerer is even worse. There have been reports of Sorcerers who have conjured up fake veins out of their sorcery and wandered home. Are we going to heal Sorcerers too? And finally, ask yourself this. Would Arascus, were he in our position of numerical advantage yet individual disadvantage, ever give us this blessing?
The answer is no. He would not. There is no world were it makes tactical or strategic sense. That is why Arascus has publicly talked of the treaty and why it is called the “Mutual Healing Proposition.” There is nothing mutual about it! It is Kavaa’s Clerics who will be doing all the healing. That is the only way it can go! Everyone knows this! For simple moral good, we are discussing allowing Arascus access to Kavaa’s healing, are we going to be discussing giving him access to Theosius’ Forges too? Is it not moral and is it not good to spread the wealth? What about spreading the knowledge of all magic around and opening up Elassa’s Libraries? Is sharing wisdom not a moral good too?
The question of whether your addiction to moral superiority will extend the conflict is already known. It will drag the war out! That is not what is being discussed here! The question is whether your addiction to moral superiority somehow manage to snatch defeat from the jaws of victory!
Signed:
Goddess Fortia, of Peace
Goddess Maisara, of Order
- Excerpt from the formal protest of Goddess Fortia, of Peace, and Goddess Maisara, of Order, against agreeing to Arascus’ Mutual Healing Proposition.
“Gimme one.” Stalker smiled in satisfaction as he pulled out his pack of Ministers, thick cigarettes supposedly used by the ministers of parliament before Rancais fell to Anarchia. The country had always been famous for smoking and Ministers, in their white and gold packs, did not disappoint. Leaders of a nation demanded only the best of the best. Smokes were everywhere in Rancais and with the nation descending down into a barter economy, they were the obvious thing for the Special Imperial Service to use as money.
“It’s my last one.” He showed off the full pack of Ministers to Baker. Malam’s shipments no longer included Imperial Currency after one of the teams somewhere in southern Rancais had been hunted down but supplies were still needed. Alcohol, food, water, toilet paper were all fairly cheap for how much space they took up in a bag; the best stores of wealth were cigarettes and medicine, water purification tablets were worth an arm and a leg especially. Stalker always had two full packs on him in case something needed to be bought.
“Damn.” Baker replied, his voice thick with mock-disappointment. “That’s crazy.” He started digging in the pockets of his coat. Their team composed of Baker, Stalker and Ranger. The first man huge, the last man small, and all three with the prowling eyes of wolves that did not ask for permission but demand. The scavengers that ran through Aris naturally stayed out of their way. It could either be that, or it could be the fact that all three of the Special Imperial Service members openly carried pistols on their hips. They had rifles but those had been left behind.
“I’m a fucking chimney.” Stalker said as he watched Baker pull out his own pack of Ministers. He unwrapped the plastic packaging, threw it onto the golden sandstone pavement under their feet and pulled out a fresh cigarette. “Good thing you stopped running out then.” Stalker replied as he smoked and looked down the Rancais street. The windows were board up or smashed, the cars were burned out or smashed, the doors were barricaded or smashed. Every now and then a wall would have a small splatter of blood on it. A window would be burned out and the wall charred. A statue would be toppled.
In spite of the destruction and chaos, it was a beautiful city. Stalker promised himself he would come back when all was said and done. “It’s my last one.” Baker with satisfaction, he showed off the full pack to Stalker then hid it back in his coat.
“Sucks for you.” Stalker replied as they followed Ranger to the next apartment. The job was simple and even though they weren’t getting paid in money, they were getting paid well. A pack of Ministers could buy anything in Aris for the time being.
“It’s here.” Ranger, the shortest of the three men, said as he stopped in front of a door. A man was sitting on the stairs, staring down at the ground. He lacked a shirt, his chest was bruised, his trousers were torn and he didn’t seem to care about the three men who entered. Stalker finished his cigarette and flicked the butt away. The power had long gone out. It was only the massive windows that allowed light from the sun that the inside of the building had any sort of visibility whatsoever. Naturally, the elevator did not work. Stalker let Ranger lead them up the stairs.
Inside, it was all mess and garbage. One corridor was covered in blood. The others had rats scurrying in them. Black plastic garbage bags were common, as were flies and insects. Mould was starting to spread on the walls and the ceiling, every carpet near the broken windows was wet from rain. It would most likely never dry at this point. The smell of dampness was everywhere, the air was heavy and thick. Muffled voices were behind every door. More than once, Stalker caught sight of someone caught someone running out of view.
Ranger eventually stopped heading through steps, he turned down a corridor, he walked to the wooden door. Baker flicked his cigarette out of a shattered window. Stalker heard the damp carpet squelch under their heavy boots. Ranger came to a stop before the door. He gave it five heavy knocks and then stepped away. Baker took the side of the door, a few quick glances between the men declared Stalker as speaker this time.
Stalker didn’t mind, he trusted himself more than he did Baker or Ranger in speech. Last night, they had almost been killed when Baker had started the conversation. Ranger locked those beady eyes with Stalker and knocked again. Five more heavy thuds. This time, there was movement from the apartment. Stalker tapped his foot angrily, pulled out another Minister and sparked the cigarette just as the door opened.
It was a man. Tall, his shoulders wide, his head with a mop of long hair. Stalker always associated that with Anarchia’s men. Behind him, three child ran about. And a woman. Two women. One with brown hair, the other blonde, both looking surprisingly clean for being in Aris. They weren’t pristine by any means, but there wasn’t a wound or a drop of blood on them. Both looked through the corridor, their eyes widened when they saw Stalker, and they quickly pulled the children back from sight. “What do you want?” The man asked.
“Anarchia bless.” Stalker declared. That, a team in western Rancais had learned was the code Anarchians had to identify each other. The man narrowed his eyes at Stalker.
“We don’t smoke here.” He said.
Stalker stepped away from the door. “Who’s smoking here?” He asked as he blew a cloud of smoke out onto the corridor. That was good enough, if the man was talking about cigarettes, then he wasn’t going to call them out on what they were doing here. “Do you know what’s happened in Ordeaux?”
“The city got destroyed.” The man replied. He leaned out to inspect Baker and Ranger. “That’s what I know at least.”
Stalker returned with a solemn sigh. He knew the whole story from SIS briefings. Anarchia had been killed, the Imperial Military was six days from Aris at the rate it was going at. The SIS was not to eliminate Anarchians, it was simply to find them. Find their names and their addresses and let them be passed on to Malam so that she could deal with them in whatever way she saw fit. “You look strong.” Stalker said and gestured the man’s arms. He did look strong. Arms like that were artificial, either substance or blessing.
The man shrugged. “It’s not my fault if you didn’t get blessed.” Stalker smiled, realised he was smile and tapped his ear. That was the sort of blessing no one would dare call him out on. And unlike super-strength, all super-hearing needed to be faked was just a good amount of confidence.
“Different strokes for different folks.” Stalker said. “I’m just seeing if you’re one of us.”
“Anarchia Bless.” The man replied and sighed. He held out his arm. “Timothee Mercer.” Stalker took it, it was unnaturally strong.
“Quiet Don.” Stalker made something up on the spot. It was different every time and these were the sort of things Anarchians usually chose. Timothee Mercer was no doubt an alias for this man too although that didn’t matter.
“That real or…?” Timothee asked and trailed off upon seeing Stalker’s eyes. “Never mind, I shouldn’t have asked.”
“It’s my new name.” Stalker said, somewhat making his tone lighter. “Have you heard what is happening on the Doschian front?”
Timothee shook his head. “What is?”
“They’re advancing on us.” Stalker made his tone grim on purpose. “I pulled back to warn all you.”
“I thank you for the warning then.” Timothee crossed his arms.
“From what I heard, the current plan is to stay put and let them pass over, then strike from the inside.” Stalker shrugged. “That’s all I got though and I can’t confirm anything, do you know anything?”
“I didn’t even know that.” Timothee said.
“Mmh.” Stalker said. “Well that’s the plan anyway, that’s what I know, apparently it’s just impossible to try and fight them on the front-lines. We just can’t.” Timothee got his chance to comment but didn’t say anything. “That’s all though. Anarchia bless.” Stalker took a step away as Baker pushed off the wall finally.
“That’s it?” Timothee asked.
“If I knew more, I’d ask, what, do you want to be a hero?” Stalker filled his voice with disdain at the idea. “Buckle in and let them pass, or you can try and run into tanks. Your choice. You can do more damage from the inside.” That was the sensible idea of course. But it was only a sensible idea if one didn’t know that Malam was already preparing to deal with these rebels. The smart decision would be to run.
“Thanks.” Timothee said, his tone lighter.
“No worries.” Stalker gave his hand to shake again. This time, Timothee did not grip so hard. “Do you know where any more of us could be hiding?”
Timothee shook his head. “No, no, sorry.”
“Don’t worry about it.” Stalker said. They had gotten sources from the previous man today in the morning. Stalker smiled in satisfaction. “Good to see that we still have men alive. Stay safe out here.”
“Thanks.” Timothee opened the door to his apartment. Once again, those children were running through the corridor. “You too, stay safe out there, and thanks for the information.”
“Anarchia bless.”
“Anarchia bless.” Timothee said and shut the door. Stalker, Ranger and Baker all shared looks. There was no need to talk about the conversation they just had, this was another name that had just been confirmed. By the time they left the building, Stalker was already smoking a Minister. Ranger quickly flicked over four pages of addresses in his notebook. He turned around and wrote this one down. “Timothee Mercer, Apartment Four A, three kids. Two wives. Estimated.” And he looked around. Stalker lifted up his hand and pointed to the street sign on the wall. It was vandalized but still legible.
“Over there.” Stalker said and Ranger quickly caught where to look at.
“Alizee Street.” Ranger said the word as he wrote it down, then slammed his notebook shut. “Right. Another one down.”
“How many do we have now?” Baker asked.
“Two hundred and forty on the dot but some are repeats, they move around.” Ranger said as the three men began to walk off.
“Do we have anything for today?” Stalker asked.
“I’ve got two more apartments to check.” Ranger answered.
“Off we go then.” Stalker said.
“Do you have a smoke?” Baker asked.
Stalker pulled out his almost-full pack of Ministers, flicked open the top and waved it in front of Baker’s face. “It’s my last one.”
“Damn. I’ve just ran out” Baker replied in his low rumble of a tone, he pulled out his own almost-full pack and picked out a Minister.
“Crazy that.”
“Crazy.”
The trio of Special Imperial Servicemen stalked through the Aris streets, searching for more addresses.