Chapter 761 – Mythmaking
Helenna took the stand, cameras raising to look up at her. She never brought out a script into these meetings, although today, there was good reason to be seen with one. It was a list of names. Nothing more, the speeches, she always rolled on with. But not today, she had pumped her up in a pillar, and with Malam’s help too, to make her hair the colour of Gold. Of Victory. And she came with a pendant, an eagle cradling Arda with its wings, on a chain around her neck.
“Ladies and Gentlemen, brothers and sisters, sons and daughters, those who are with us and those who are not.” Helenna began. She brought attention to the eagle laying on her chest. “Today, I wear gold.” She took a pause. “I wear gold because from today onwards, the Gold Ban is no longer in effect, because Mammon’s eyes can no longer reach this world, because today, I have an announcement to make.”
“Almost two years ago, the Sassara Desert was split by the rift, the demons of Tartarus poured through that rift in a bid to conquer Arda.” She dropped the eagle, it bounced against her chest. The tricolour of the Empire, the black-red-white, and the flags of the nations that made it up, hung behind her in the auditorium. “Now, as the representative of Empire, I bring news.” Helenna paused for another moment. “To the Empire but not to the Empire only, to the whole world.” She paused. “Arda stands.”
The auditorium went silent as Helenna explained. No one even reached for their jackets. She saw eyes growing wide, she saw the stunned faces, someone had paused with a water bottle half way to their mouths. “Yesterday, as has been announced by Goddess Kassandora, Operation Sky’s Return was launched. The Operation lasted a total of eighteen hours.” She paused again, to let them savour what was coming because surely at this point, everyone could figure it out. “Arda stood for two years of an ashen flood that threatened to choke it out, Operation Sky’s Return was a success. The rift is closed. The ash spewers are destroyed. Arda stands. What fighting continues is mere cleanup in the Sassara.”
She let it hold for a moment more, so came the announcement. “And now, in the of the Empire, in the name of Arda, in the name of all you, I hereby declare it publicly for all to listen. We have won. The war is over and we have won.”
And the room exploded into cheering. Helenna let it play on for a while before raising her hand to calm the crowd. “More announcements will come, but for now, most importantly, let me stand here and give my thanks. I do not speak as a representative of the Empire right now, but I speak as Helenna, the Goddess of Love. Thank you. To all those who ventured underground in the First and Second Expeditions, thank you.”
“Daddy! Daddy! That’s you!” Kara screamed and Theodore leaned towards the television screen, today, the world had come to a standstill. Even in his town of Swanlake, no cars drove outside the roads, no one walked the roads, everyone had retreated to a pub, or to a restaurant, or to a train station or school, or anywhere that had public televisions which played the news.
And they all stared and watched, Theodore from his home. His rifle hung behind the television, next to a hook that bore the greatcoat of the Second Expedition, still singed and charred from where he had been struck by a fireball and granted leave. Clerical healing had wiped the damage from his body, the coat and his memory, and the albums on the walls bearing all the images of the Hundred and Eighty-First Armoured, were the greatest relics of that time. “That’s you.” Sarah said from his side, William, not even a year yet, lay in her hands suckling on her chest. “Well done.” She leaned over to give him a kiss on a stubbled cheek as Kara jumped from leg to leg, palms slapping on his leg.
And Goddess Helenna, adorned with gold so that she would shine on the stage like a harbinger of goods news, spoke of victory. Behind her a row of flags, the Imperial Black-Red-White, the Allian Blue-Red, the Lubskan Red-White, all of them. “When the Suns under the Surface were relit, it was Imperial Soldiers who fought down there, standing not for riches nor for fame but for doing what is right. So that the entire race of dwarfkind can go on and see their night end with a dawn. To that, there is no other term that is worthy, thank you to the heroes of the Expeditions.”
“It’s over.” Theodore whispered.
Sarah chuckled and she leaned over, placing her brown hair on his shoulder. “It’s over, hero.”
Helenna continued. “To the people of Ibya, who watched their country be overtaken by ash, who fled to Epa, who stayed here and waited, who fought side-by-side with the One-Seventeenth, who were the first to land back in their homeland during Operation Sky’s Return, I say thank you.”
“Post for you Rania!” Johanna shouted from the front door, the wife of the farmer in Keinhauzer where they were staying for the duration of the war. Rania had not slept the entire night, not since she caught wind from Mustafar that he was going to lose signal because of his once again crossing the Ash-Front. It had to be on. “Have you seen the news by the way?”
“No.” Rania replied from the woman’s couch. There had been an order today that work was shut, that they would receive days of celebration, that schools were going to be sending their children home. That had to be good news. There was terror of course, maybe everything had gotten so bad that there was no point in schools anymore. Rania pushed that idea out of her mind for the twentieth time today. Thoughts like that should not even be allowed to be thought.
“You should.” Johanna took the control and turned it on. “It’s good news.” Rania didn’t even bother listening to the victory speech of the golden Goddess. Her fingers apart the envelope, fat from something inside. A diamond, then another, a third and a fourth and enough that she lost count, spilled over her knees and onto the floor carpetted blue. Johanna just smiled, pretending not to notice the sudden onset of mess.
The paper came out, and Rania almost tore it as her fingers unfurled it in an excited panic. The handwriting was immediately recognisable, she didn’t even need to read a word to know it was from the man she married. It was difficult to read, the smile gave way to tears. “Rania, my love, we have won. I will write more later but I am alive, I am safe, there are Clerics nearby. I am in Ibya again. The day here is as beautiful as you. Home is safe.”
Rania’s eyes swelled, she had to blink to make out the photo attached. It was Ibya, it was their home, it was a country that had been swallowed by Ashen Skies, and it was illuminated by the light of day again. The desert stretched on forever, shining brightly, illuminated by diamonds. Mustafar had even caught a picture of a huge ICDT tower in the distance, still pulsing as it worked.
Johanna’s hands closed on Rania’s shoulders. “Don’t tell me it’s bad sweetheart.”
“It’s not.” Rania burst out into tears and put her face into Johanna’s stomach, clutching tightly at the woman’s dress. “It’s not Johanna, it’s good. It’s…” She half-babbled, half-mutters a thousand different thanks to all Divinity, to the Empire, to Ibya, to Arda, to Mustafar, to all of them. “Look.” She forced the letter into Johanna’s hand as Helenna talked on the television.
“It’s over.” Johanna said as the two women exchanged a hug.
Helenna continued her speech. “Thank you to the heroes of the Southern Front, to General Ekkerson and his antworks, to the hell they went through to make sure that Kirinyaan sands will remain sands. Their bravery and sacrifice are second to none.”
Corporal Likkom sat on the edge of his tank and fumbled out a cigarette from his packet as he stared out over the devastation that had been caused in the final eighteen hours of the war. He had hid within the antworks, underneath a bubbling mountain that was being melted when the surge of Sokolowski’s Sledgehammer had made its first pass on this area. He had come out to see ICDT towers land, to watch the curse of Ashen Skies be transmuted away into a glittering sky of stars, save those that stars were diamonds, and those diamonds were heavy and sharp.
And he had been there when Ekkerson gave the order that called them forth from the Antworks, and he had been there on the frontlines, commanding his Lynx battle tank, and following orders. And now, there was no more orders. Ekkerson had given the call to stand down already. His mouth curled into a sad smile, as he drew close on the cigarette.
Soldiers where beginning to collapse now, falling asleep on the hard ground under the warmth of daylight. Driven to exhaustion by a debt of tiredness that had grown for months, and then finished off with a surge of adrenaline like nothing they had ever seen before. When the fighting around the antworks had been going on, Likkom had thought that he would never leave. That nothing could ever compete to the sheer level of life he felt back then.
Now, no battle could compare to that feeling of riding out and hunting down the Tartarians until his tank had finally ran out of fuel. It had been a surge of explosions of mad firing, it had been life. He pulled on the cigarette as another soldier from a nearby tank jumped off his vehicle, rolled into the diamonds on the ground and groaned with a sigh. To the east of them, some hundred metres, a group of infantry were starting a fire.
No one really knew what to do now, they would return. And then after, they would be given more orders. Or maybe they would be sent back home. After that… Likkom finished his cigarette and flicked the butt away to the ground, pulling out another immediately and lighting it. After that battle, maybe he was ready. Maybe he could start a farm? He wondered about the future. Maybe fishing? There were jobs in Nanbasa for that. Security was the most likely probably.
Driving? He stared down at the Lynx. Hopefully there would be some rebuilding effort. He would sign up for a that in a single heartbeat. Then he’d meet a wife. Then they’d have a hundred children together. And then he would die, happy. One of the saviours of the world. What a title.
It felt almost odd. Like he should have pulled out a sword out of the world-core or given his soul up. And all he had done was driven his tank in and fought in between mountains that were melting or going to be melted by columns of fire as high and as wide as skyscrapers. That was dirty work. It didn’t feel like saving the world in the moment. But maybe that’s what saving the world was.
He needed a drink.
And Helenna went on for more an hour, thanking individuals from Operation Demonfall, from the battle of Ainai, from the Reconquest of Esberia, down to the civilians who were in Arseille and made the evacuation easy, the members of the Strategic Missile Corps who had been killed by Be’elzebub. Some by name individually, some, when there were too many names to list, would just get their unit. But all of them would get their own plinths eventually, she would see to it that the new, Imperial Age of Arda, had a foundational myth beyond reproach.
“And I would like to thank the Imperial Knights who charged the rift. Where fighting still goes on, although it is now against the scraps and rabble left behind by Tartarus.”
Arascus caught Elassa as the shining Goddess of Magic sputtered out of mana. Her crystals flickered, then burned out, she hovered in the air for a few moments, and he caught her wrist before she could start making her descent to the bottom of the rift. “It’s over.” She whispered, Arascus pulled her up to his chest, cradling her in both arms.
“Are you out out?”
“Mmh.” Elassa mumbled. Very well. So it was the three of them and whatever was left of the Imperial beachhead onto the rift against countless. Arascus stared at them, then at Anassa and Irinika as he cradled Elassa in his arms.
“So it’s just us three then.” Irinika pulled out her pipe and performed her usual ritual. Loading it with tobacco, pressing it down, tapping it, and then finally lighting and inhaling. She still had the silver lighter he had given her, inscribed with her own name. Anassa watched, her hands still.
“No restrictions?” Irinika asked.
“No restrictions.” Arascus confirmed. “Save as many soldiers as you can.” Irinika nodded, then turned around in the air. Anassa disappeared a moment later. And for a moment, Arascus watched as a sphere of darkness enclosed around one set of demons and soldiers. The Tartarians were left torn apart, the soldiers stunned and untouched. On Arascus’ other side, rivers of dancing crimson, transforming from beast to flora to weather to weapon smashed into the Tartarian ranks. And from ahead, his own power, targeted now, so that each blade that fell out of a crimson portal would stab into a demon, began to make incisions into the demonic lines.
“And to Captains Pillomeut Deferre and Arrenhal Allegret, pilots of Dragon One. And to its crew members” … She kept on reading the list of names. “For a feat of courage that can only redefine what hero truly means.”
Magdalene Deferre opened the door to small apartment. She had barely believed it back then, but the Arseille Ticket, as they had been known to be called, could in fact be traded in for a fully furnished new build. She did not even have to go far from the ruins of her. Her heart felt as if she was going to explode the moment she saw the black suits of formal military dress. The pair of generals with their peak caps already over their chest, their gazes low, barely looking up to meet her. Her mouth fell open, her lips trembled, her green eyes shot wide and she steadied herself with the grip over her hand. “I…”
The man to her left kept his voice steady. “My name is General Milemot, in charge of the airforce assisting the assault on the rift, Captain Pillomeut’s direct superior.” He began and Magdalene felt her knees go weak. Her hands tugged on her white shirt, trying to find any sort of touch sensation.
“He…” He wasn’t coming back.
General Milemot kept his voice and laid down the words that Magdalene knew were coming. If it was anything else, then she would receive a letter, a phonecall, her own son would be standing here. But Pillomeut was not, it was some… She barely heard the words. “Your son heroically sacrificed his own life for all of us.”
“Whe… Where is he?” Magdalene asked. “I… His ashes?” The demons burned bodies to the ground. She knew it from the start. He wouldn’t be buried next to his father, but… his ashes at least.
“He flew his plane through the portal to deliver the bomb.” General Milemot said slowly. “Your son displayed a level of decisiveness and sheer courage for the rest of us, a level that I can only say he is a hero that stood against the tyrants of history.” Milemot stood there as.
“I…” Magdalene closed her eyes to steady herself and stop the tears from flowing. “I…” Her mind defaulted to the most basic, lively question she could. “Do you want tea? Coffee?”
The pair of generals remained silent for a moment, then shook their heads. “We have more of these notices to make.” Milemot said. “So please do not take offense, but we shall decline with the utmost respect.” He brought out a small book from the inside of his pocket. “Duke Charette will most likely come in touch to assist, although here is his number. Underneath that is to the Department of Veteran Affairs.” And then, a small cassette already in a player. “And Captain Pillomeut’s last words.”
With nimble fingers, General Milemot struck the play button and Magdalene’s hand trembled on the doorway once again. She recognised the voice immediately, she could pick it out in a crowd, if everyone in the world shouted at the same time, she would still be able to pick out her son. And she had… She had thought it would be something terrible… A scream, Gods forbid, or a curse, or a plea. And… “Dragon-One reports, mission success.” A small pause. “Au revoir Arda.” Until we meet again.
“Can I keep it?”
“It’s yours.” When the door shut, the tears started to flow. Magdalene slid against the wall, down to the floor, and played the sound again. She wiped a tear away. “Au revoir Arda.” Not a hint of shame, nor regret to be heard. She cried, and she smiled, and she cried again. It was the worst experience of her life, and she could tell from Pillomeut’s voice that he would not gone any other way.
Au Revoir Pillomeut. Au Revoir.