The Greatest Sin [Progression Fantasy][Kingdom Building]

The acknowledgement of a skill in an enemy, as soldier’s put it: ‘giving credit where credit is due’, is a fundamental skill for any battlefield commander serving in any position of authority. To be unable to acknowledge a move that beats one’s own, whether it is out of spite or out of misguided belief, some say is a sign of immaturity. I disagree, immaturity is hastiness, it is the lack of planning, immaturity stems from the heat of youth. Whereas maturity in itself is something to be aimed for, too much of it can crush and drown with its icy grip. Everyone should hold onto the warmth that only youthful passion can create.

But to return to the point, the inability to give reverence where reverence is required, because of a difference of opinion or dislike is not immaturity. It is the height of stupidity. It is only through the acknowledgement of the opponent’s success that we can go ahead and actually patch the holes in our own failures. Battlefield commanders do not need to like each other on a personal basis, however anyone who is defeated and does not respect their opponent can be demoted on the spot, and if that is deemed unacceptable, then they should be executed because their death will save the lives of everyone underneath them.

An opponent can be stronger, faster, sturdier, they can have every advantage possible and yet a lack of respect will still be their downfall. These poisonous thoughts breed overconfidence and there is no killer like that. Now, as new breeds of Divines look up at us and they witness how Anassa talks of Elassa, Irinika or Arascus of Allasaria, how I talk of Fortia or Maisara, they are baffled by the amount of respect shown. I am certain, beyond any doubt, that the conversations the White Pantheon has between themselves about us bear just as much respect, because the Great War is being fought cautiously.

In fact, there are almost no Divines who do not have an innate recognition of natural respect towards their opponents. All those who thought us idiots, who treated me as weak, who assumed they could march into my army to defeat me have proven themselves victims of their mentality. It was not I who defeated them, it was them themselves.

Any Divine that did not share this mentality or who could not control themselves and listen to the unpleasant thoughts that came from respecting an enemy has ended up being killed.

- Excerpt from ‘Imperial Officer Manual’, Fourth Edition, used in the Great War. Written by Goddess Kassandora, of War.

Belili looked through the window again. Larinette had gone and retrieved a rifle, Azaela had returned. They were being surrounded. It was a good thing that none of them had tried to run before because from the amount of vehicles that were watching over the farmhouse, it was obvious that estate had been closed off hours prior, the amount of troops that had come here would make any attempt at an escape suicide. And it had happened so fast as well. Those two cars had stopped on the highway, the armoured vehicle with the trret had arrived. Ten minutes later, there was a full ring of cars all around the estate.

The highway had been closed off temporarily, the endless stream of civilian cars had finally abated and left a line of sleek dark tarmac. It was blotched only by the SIS vehicles which had come, and as Belili watched, she had not realised just how expansive the SIS was. There were agents, although everyone knew about them. All of them wore their dark sunglasses and suits or uniforms. Most of them had arrived in black cars.

Belili had seen them use rifles before, but she always assumed they favoured the pistol. Now, every SIS soldier was leaning across the hood or back or roof of their vehicle, rifle point straight at Belili’s compound. But the real danger were the armoured vehicles. Belili could spot three of those anti-air trucks which had a spinning set of barrels extended from their turrets. The Tartarian Princess more than well enough that she could not go up against something like that.

“Your Highness.” Azaela said quietly as she stared through another window. At the very least, the SIS weren’t shooting yet. If they did start, then in the chaos, Belili would try to find the weakpoint and get right out. Now, they were surrounded. What was the purpose of surrounding an enemy if not to bring them to negotiation?

“What?” Belili tried not to think about the answer to her own thought. The purpose was a total eradication. And from how she had seen Malam and Helenna’s methods work, the Empire was definitely not in the mood for negotiation.

“Do you see that?” Azaela pointed out one of the vehicles in the distance. It was a closed truck, the sort that could be used for transporting heavy goods from a quarry to a warehouse. Not anything to do with transporting people unless…

Belili felt her heart sink. “Prepare for combat.” She said. “Azaela! Larinette! Go tell everyone there’s going to be a fight!” It was unless those people were huge, far, far, far taller than humans. And these Ardans had that breed of person almost everywhere. And they did not deploy that breed to negotiate. Maybe in between each other, but definitely not with Belili.

That truck was the transport of a Divine.

Malam ran her hand down the rifle as the back of her transport began to get close. For one, she knew it was about four hours to this location and she had been tracking the time. For two, they had finally gone off road and the only reason for that to happen was either because they had arrived or they were under attack. There was no screaming, so it couldn’t be the latter.

Of Hatred looked down at her full bottle of vodka and screwed the top back on. She had brought it with herself although there was no reason to drink it. She never drank before doing she knew she would enjoy anyway. There was no need to dull the monotony of Hatred when it was aimed at a target that deserved it. The truck came to a stop.

“That’s Malam.” Belili whispered as the compound prepared for imminent assault. The stolen guns were taken out of their closets and distributed to the defenders. Azaela entered the room from a different door than the one she had ran out from.

“Your Highness! Malam has been-“

“I know.” Belili interrupted her handmaiden. If Malam was here, then that entirely changed the scenario. The base was not the target, it was Belili herself. They knew she was here. Someone had talked. Belili did not even want to consider what Malam had done to break a succubus into speaking. “Prepare for combat. Open the cellars, if they charge us, then open fire.”

They most likely would not win, but they would go down fighting. And they would take more of them down than vice-versa. With Tartarian flame magic and Ardan rifle, they should be able to put up a good defence against the assault. “At once your Highness!” Azaela said and ran out. And Belili simply watched, she wondered if she had been spotted. A part of her wished that the long-range guns of the Empire would just put a bullet through her head right now.

That would be easier to do than watching this.

Malam walked with her bottle of vodka in one hand to the front of her battlelines. She was not going to be drinking though, no. She had a much better idea on how to terrorise these cursed little shapeshifters that had made their way to Arda. Her cannon of a shotgun was slung across her back. Underneath her trousers, in her boots, under her shirt and down her sleeves, she had knives strapped to her she could retrieve at a moment’s notice. And in her other hand, a notebook.

“What the fuck is she doing?” Larinette whispered next to Belili. Both of the succubi now stood armed with a rifle. These were the modern guns of the Empire that had been given out to the civilian populace all throughout the war, several had already made their way back to Tartarus. Whereas the construction itself was simple enough to copy, it was the powder that actually propelled the bullets that remained inaccessible to the technicians back in Tartarus.

“I don’t know.” Belili said as they watched Malam thrust the bottle of vodka forwards then tip it upside down. The clear liquid fell and splashed on the frozen grass. It had not snowed in these lands yet, although from the succubi further north, winter on Arda was as terrible now as it had been back in the Great War. Belili had not experienced that one though. She stood there and tried to get into the mind of a creature like Malam, ever so full of cruelty and sadism and hatred and… And Belili realised. “She’s pouring one out for us.”

“What?” Larinette asked.

“She’s pouring a drink out for us as if we are already dead.” Belili felt a shiver go down her spine.

“Should I try shooting her?”

“Hold on for a moment.” Belili said. The moment one bullet was released, it was going to be all over. At this point, it was pure curiosity on what Malam was doing with that bottle. Once it was empty, she began to stuff a piece of paper inside.

Malam tested the weight of the bottle as she calculated the arc of the throw. With one of her own knives, which she had been using for thousands of years, she knew she would be able to pin-point the angle down to stabbing perfectly into the door or smashing through a window. With the thick glass of one of these bottles though… She twisted her core, spun her arm around and…

Belili ducked to the side when the vodka bottle suddenly smashed through the window. Glass shattered into a faint mist, from the panes themselves to the bottle and filled the air as Belili and Larinette stared at each other. “She just made that throw.” Larinette had to say, Belili nodded. Malam was on the red list of Ardan Divinity to avoid, although her section was far smaller than any of the other Divines. It basically culminated with stating that the woman was an expert duellist and extremely dangerous.

Belili pointed to the piece of paper that had been stuffed into the vodka bottle, with the window smashed, the cold winter wind came in. And that was everything which came in save for the distant rumble of engines. The cars speeding down the highway was not there, nor the usual marks of a sieging army: Talking and laughter and clinking drinks. Azaela came in, a pair of succubi, both with black horns, behind her. “There was a crash!” She shouted.

“Malam threw that at us.” Larinette said.

“Read it Azaela.” Belili said. She was not going to be risking touching poison or something else like that. The handmaiden looked to the window, then bent down and made she sure wasn’t going to be in view of any snipers when she crouch-walked to the paper. Belili watched the black-horned succubus touch the paper, smell it and make a sour face.

“It smells like alcohol.” She said, then read it silently. Her eyes grew wider with each word.

“What did she send us?” Belili asked.

Azaela held up the piece of paper for everyone in the room to read: Belili, ninth daughter of Duke Modeus, position two-thousand, five hundred and fifty-two for the throne of Tartarus, Princess over the Barony of Miximili, Leader of the Imperial Infiltration Mission, entered the Empire through a trail in eastern Esberia before crossing into Rancais, witnessed the Arseille O-Bombing, Betrothed to Prince Harkinius. Spymaster in various courts, chief amongst them Prince Asmodeus (dead) and Prince Semirge (soon to be dead).

I, Malam, Goddess of Hatred of Arda, Spymistress of the Empire, Head of the Special Imperial Service, have found you.

Everyone in the room stared at the paper as the temperature cooled. No one needed to say anything. How Malam knew any of that was… Pops from outside interrupted Belili’s chain of thought. They were faint, dull implosions almost, that sounded like single beats of drums rather than gunfire. The demonic princess, her horns ivory white, turned to the window and saw mortars? No, they weren’t aimed at the house.

It was small canisters that landed in the frozen grass as Malam pulled the massive gun off her back. The Ardan Goddess, her hair a snow white that waved gently in the wind, handled it easily with one arm as the canisters landed between her. She put one leg forward, twisted to the side, was she going to shoot?

Azaela put her rifle down on the windowsill. Flames appeared around Belili. Larinette pulled back the bolt on her rifle. And smoke burst out from the canisters. A thick white fog that took a half-second to hide Malam entirely. The rest of the unit holding fire was what was concerning though. Belili felt all the muscles in her stomach tighten as she braced for an explosion or for gunfire rattling through the wall, but nothing ever came.

And she realised what was going on when Azaela pulled the trigger and there was no scream or sound of a giant toppling. “OPEN FIRE! SHE’S MOVING IN!”