Chapter 385 – The Roving Court
And so we have Kassandora now join the discussion with her pretensions of pragmatism. Of course, those who possess as little humanity as she does will undoubtedly agree with her. Of course, life is about the material results. Winning wars is what makes life living, for there is no reason to fight war but for war itself. I do not want to hear the woman talking down to me because it is akin to being talked down to by a child with no ability to conceive existence outside of its own immediate, present gaze. Oh! But be a better administrator, be a better soldier!
Maisara approaches Kassandora’s argument in the entirely wrong way. Of War is not here to engage in intellectual debate, her philosophy is limited to defining the difference between a catapult and a trebuchet, a sabre and a longsword, a bolt and an arrow. No, Of War shuts the conversation immediately because it is not productive, she reductively claims our discussions upon the nature of the Divine soul are worthless trite, then she proceeds to spew her own worthless trite in the form of attacks on character. Of course, it plays to the audience, the moment that philosophy becomes for the masses is the moment that it gets dragged down to become a spectator’s sport in a filthy, lowly, arena. One were attacks are personal and where the quality of argumentation is defined through how charismatic and confident one sounds when tearing the opponent down. Maisara simply misses Kassandora’s lowly game, and proceeds to defend herself in that regard. It is a losing battle, one she cannot win.
Ultimately, Kassandora is more confident than Maisara, thus, Kassandora will always be more liked by the audience. She wishes to make this personal? Very well.
Kassandora wishes to claim that my unhappiness is baked into the lack of a kingdom. That because I fail at long term economic planning, I am somehow made miserable. Indeed! If only I had thought of this! Where I to master market forces, supply and demand, unemployment and inflationary principles, I would suddenly be complete! Who would have thought! The answer to life is found in an instruction manual! One day, we shall all become as miserable as her, and then we shall have nothing to talk about because Divinity will achieve full employment! Let us talk on her terms, we discuss how to siege a castle, she shifts the battlefield to a simple engagement on the plains and then calls us stupid for discussing the castle siege. It is a dishonest reframing of the goals.
Those of us who do not care about this question do not even bother with a response unless forced on it. And then, their answers are always simple. Ask Anassa what a Divine is. Irinika? Baalka? Even Arascus has an answer to whether he has a soul, he says he has one because he is him, and because Arascus must have a soul. How can one argue with that? No. Kassandora is lying to herself and to everyone around her.
If she were truly so high and mighty, then she would bother with the debate in the first place.
I greatly respect Kassandora, thus I will not try to her down as a person. Nevertheless, this is the warning shot into the air. If Kassandora does not wish to add to the debate, then she should stay out of it.
- Excerpt from “A Higher Form of Combat”, written by Goddess Helenna, of Love, in response to “An Intellectual Indecency”.
Arascus listened to the footsteps of his ministers as they came to greet him once again. “Sir.” Minister of Internal Affairs, Sir Wilhelm Trosk, said. The man had recently been knighted. When they won this war, he would be made into a duke. Iliyal had not been positive on the fellow at first, expecting Trosk to eventually give up his position or be overwhelmed to such an extent that he needed to be replaced. Wilhelm Trosk had grown into the role though, Internal Affairs was running smooth, even if things were more overwhelming than ever.
Arascus stood and watched the fifth tower be dragged by a crane into standing position. They were not going at the rate he wanted to do. They were not even going at half the rate he wanted to. The range was still to be found of course, but if they were going to clear Arika, then thousand of these structures would be needed. They would work, he believed in them even if no one else did. It was just a missile at the end of the day. A missile that had to dive down through the clouds and not explode. That was not some complicated mechanism. Booster rockets were being brought in, those, the Empire knew how to make. The same ones that were used to launch satellites into space. They were tested. They worked. Ten of them were arrayed on concreted ground already, covered by fabric to protect them from rain and snow.
Arascus turned around and looked down at his tired Minister. Trosk had lost most of his hair, his eyes had black rings underneath them. The court had a pair of Clerics assigned to it, but even those Clerics were beginning to slow down with how much travel was being done. From Rilia, to Lubska, to Doschia to check upon manufacturing, then back to Lubska, to Rilia to attend Central Strategy Council meetings, to Arcadia to check upon Elassa crafting the armour of knights. The only place that they had not gone to visit yet was Endpoint in Norje. Iniri and Baalka had finished with the FPN-1, the self-perpetuating construct of diseased Gaia they had made was locked away in a seedling.
Neither of them wanted to leave though. They would be useful here of course, but if the FPN-1 decided to awake on its own? A Divine was needed in the area simply to hold it. Arascus had not realised he had locked away two of his Goddesses into guarding the weapon that was supposed to win the war. But that didn’t change the fact he wasn’t going to recall them. Both of their worries were correct. They could not risk leaving a world-ending weapon unattended. “What is it?” Arascus asked.
“Paida is missing.” Trosk said quickly and briefly, his tone utterly flat. The man was truly getting into his role because he had stopped using honorifics for all but the most important Divines. He continued without pause. “From reports in Aris, she has ventured into the catacombs to join the expedition on her own free will. Rancais is currently headed by Head Minister Tenaipe.”
Arascus stood and thought for a moment. It would be easier with Paida there, but Tenaipe would have to do then. “Do we have idea of how long she has gone in for?”
“No.” Trosk replied immediately. The men around him all pretended to suddenly look at the ground, or the tower being dragged upwards by cranes. The huge crystal at the top would be installed once it stood, and then it would be covered up with protective shielding. Those gemstones were manufactured in Arcadia, and they were the only thing that was ahead of schedule.
“Alright then.” Arascus said. If Paida was gone, then Paida was gone. She would return soon enough hopefully. “Send a message to Tenaipe, he has the authority of Paida as bestowed by me until her return. And tell him that his first order of business is to make contact with Paida so we know how she spends down there.” It was merely a change of middle-management. If the catacombs stung Paida so badly that she had ventured in alone without even asking, then her mind and heart wouldn’t be in it should she be recalled. It would just be better to leave her down there. And a Divine was always useful when exploring the unknown. “And in your message, make sure to tell Tenaipe that he has to tell Paida she’s not allowed to die. If there is danger, she has to flee.”
Maybe Iniri would have to be moved from Endpoint. It was always better to have a stronger Divine about. Those were the Empire most precious commodity though. He didn’t want to risk Iniri as much as he didn’t want to risk sending one of his daughters into those catacombs. “Anything else?” Arascus asked.
“There is the situation of Olonia. She requests her rifle back.” Trosk said. He looked to the other ministers, and then sighed. “It’s not protocol, Tremali wishes to have the new gun on her. She’s adamant that the old rifle is good enough.” He shrugged. “I don’t really know Sir. It’s not…” He trailed off.
Arascus closed his eyes and gave the man a calming nod. He understood exactly. It was the sort of thing that humanity never expected Divinity to squabble about, but squabble about they did. Iliyal wanted the best for her, she wanted what had worked. Neither would relent so it fell to him to be the tiebreaker. Unfortunately for Iliyal, this time, his efficiency was beaten out; Olonia was not heading into a dangerous enough area to warrant forcing new guns on her, and her rifle was tested under Ashen Sky conditions. “Olonia wins the argument, forward it to Iliyal.”
Sir Wilhelm Trosk, opened his mouth and got caught on his words. This was starting to become more open recently. “Apologies Sir.” He said flatly as he reached into his pocket to reach for the notepad he had there. That notepad had started to come out more and more too.
“Don’t worry about it, take your time” Arascus said. Fatigue was natural, why should he punish a man who pushed himself so far that even clerical healing was beginning to flag?
Trosk didn’t react to the advice, he just started flicking open the pages as Arascus finally settled upon the idea that the royal palace had not just been an exercise in maintaining legitimacy and prestige to a population. The roaming court that the Empire had been operating upon, with its bureaucracy spread out over the Empire, was finally beginning to approach the hard limit of needing to be manned by humans. The rest of his ministers were in no better shape than Trosk. A few were even developing hollow cheeks and sleeping in train cars or within buses was a simply plugging the gaps. The human element needed a rest, even if Arascus did not.
He decided that the Imperial Palace would be built as Trosk found his page finally. That could come later though, after the war, or if they settled down. It would look poorly in front of the populace if such decadence was going to be built during their holy war for Arda’s survival. “The matter is in Doschia, Allia and Rancais.” Trosk began. “Manufacturing Bureau reports…” He stared at the numbers for a moment. “Tower rate per day in Rancais is one every four days. Allia manages one every three. Doschia is one per every two and a half. They report…” Truly the man was tired if it took him this long to read. “Two every five days Sir. It’s not resources or anything, it’s just scale. The factories can’t keep up with the timeline.”
No. That was the big fear. “Have you estimated the delay then?” Arascus asked.
Trosk just stared at the page. “It’s…” He trailed off. “No Sir, I haven’t but we’re going at less than a tenth of the planned rate.”
Then at least a full year. Maybe two. Could the Empire hold on for that long? Possibly. But they would reclaim Esberia nonetheless. Arascus looked down upon Trosk. This man would not hang on though. “Anything else to report?” It would have to be thought of.
“Foreign Affairs reports volunteers from Karaina.” Trosk said, he stared at the paper blankly for a moment and started flipping pages. Arascus had no comment upon it, a crash came from behind him and he turned to look at the massive tower being settled into standing position. A transmutation crystal was being wheeled out by a truck as the engineers scrambled to put up their ropes and everything else. “Goddess Helenna reports that the IBI is successful, she sent a letter. It’s…” He patted his coat.
“Did she ask for anything?” Arascus asked.
“No sir, it was just a report. She’s pleased with herself.” Arascus stared at that tower. They would need Theosius. But Theosius would not be easy to recruit. The man would want Arascus to wear armour forged by him, or carry a sword, or force the same upon one of the daughters. That, at least, was the recruitment method Arascus had planned. It was not a material or moral argument, it was a pure challenge and a calling of Theosius’ skill to drag him into the Empire.
The simple issue was that no one would want, nor need, armour crafted by the God of the Forge. Even Fortia and Maisara had their produce their own. “Anything else?” Arascus asked. Engineers began strapping the locks onto the tower that would allow booster rockets to be mounted upon it. They were hanging off ropes off the scaffolding. It would be easier to install the locks back in the factories, but the factories needed to be making the things that only the factories could make.
“Basic civilian matters Sir.” Trosk said. “From my end, it is nothing serious. Just changes in volunteering rates and births and so on.”
“Up or down?”
“Volunteering up, birth and marriages down.” Trosk said. “But everyone says to expect a boom after the war. It’s not…” Arascus nodded. It wasn’t a problem worth worrying about yet.
“Raptor update?” Arascus asked, although it was more a matter of principal.
“The captains report being allowed into the cockpits again. There…” Trosk said. “I can compile reports on the theory, but I’ve not read it myself. That’s all I know. They seem to be settling in.” That was expected, the machines were birds of war, Aslana and the other weapon Divines had also needed some time to break in after they had formed. The Goddess of the Sword had been incarnated with the idea that only champions deserved to wield her, obviously, that ideal had not stood the test of time. “Other than that, it’s just messages from Manufacturing. That’s our main issue.”
“I know.” Arascus said. They needed a Divine to assist. Theosius would not do… Arascus’ eyes suddenly grew wider. A Divine that could create machinery, another that could drag structures out of the ground. He had seen it himself after all, on the news after Worldbreaking. And when he was returning from their land. He took a deep breath. There were only two problems.
They were in the UNN, on the other side of the world.
And they hated him.