Path of the Hive Queen

An old elvish adage held that the anticipation before a battle was worse than the battle itself. While it held some truth, perhaps, it didn’t therefore follow that the battle itself was good.

And this particular battle was a vicious, bloody-minded thing. It was no mere raid for resources or skirmish gone out of hand, or even a regular conflict over borders. No, these soldiers fought because they felt for their cause: They’d either been convinced by their commanders, or perhaps, they genuinely felt fervor for it. Either way, anyone who retreated from this battle would be condemned as a coward.

Which wasn’t to say the two sides were evenly matched. One side clearly had superior numbers, and while the other might have a slight advantage in the level of their combatants, it would not be enough to turn the course of the battle. Of course, the terrain also mattered in this calculus.

Tunnels made numbers matter a whole lot less, which was usually an advantage but currently felt more like a curse.

Armin paused after fighting his way through a knot of enemy soldiers to contest a crossing of several tunnels, taking a moment to catch his breath and gather his strength. The unit he currently led, a small one pieced together from the remnants of several others, gathered around him, lifting their weapons and shouting in victory. The tunnels around them carried the sound, and echoed with similar shouts. It was hard to even determine which way they came from, much less what the lay of the overall battle was. Or rather, it would have been hard without certain advantages.

Take heart, brave soldiers. The voice brushed at his mind, the words echoing through the group more firmly than any mere sound. The flow of the battle is in our favor. We have almost encircled the enemy on the left flank. Three of four strong points have fallen to us. There is increased resistance on the eastern front; the watchtower must be taken. Now is the time to press forward. Capitalize on your success and punish their arrogance. I will help you sow fear among their ranks and show them why we are not to be taken lightly. Courage, now, for the Eternal Dark!

Armin sheathed the sword he’d picked up at some point (he didn’t really remember when) and grasped his trusty dagger. He smiled. “Well, you heard her,” he said. “Onward, friends!”

The men around him cheered, and he let himself be swept up in their enthusiasm (and bloodlust) for a moment. He rushed forward, leading them through the next tunnel. Being experienced soldiers, they’d fallen silent and moved very quietly. Carefully, Armin drew on a bit of his mana to wrap shadow around himself and the front rank, hiding them a little better. It was an expenditure of mana that would hopefully be worth it, though he had to ration his mana carefully.

The tunnel soon opened into another small cavern, and he charged forward. His blade found the neck of an enemy soldier. Shouts and cries rose, but his followers were already among them. Another heated melee ensured. The soldier to his right side was cut down, and Armin stepped into the breach, throwing his hands out and sending small projectiles of shadow at his opponents. They managed to blind them, giving his other soldiers an opportunity to capitalize on it. Then he jumped forward, relying on his superior Stats.

Another dark elf met him in battle, probably an officer. They exchanged blows, but Armin stepped in close, dodged a blow of his sword, and rammed his dagger into the gap between the enemy’s armor plates at his armpit. There was a bit of resistance as the chainmail held for a moment before it broke. He stepped back, dodging another flailing blow, and turned to the battle. It was already over.

They kept going. Madris contacted him again, giving him a more detailed assessment of how the battle was going and where she wanted him. Armin led his little band through two more crossings, picking up more Reformist soldiers on the way.

He finally paused before the last turn, looking at his soldiers. “The last watchtower,” he said. “One company will attack from the northern tunnel to draw their attention, then we and another group will attack from two other tunnels. It’s important to move quickly. Our goal is to take the tower structure itself. I’ll handle any elites. Be careful and strike true.”

Then he drew on more of his mana and sped down the tunnel. He hadn’t seen the cavern before, but Madris had shared an image of it, so he knew where he was.

The cavern was perhaps big enough to house a village. It was low, but sloped upward on the right side. That was where the actual ‘watchtower’ was located. Instead of being a real tower, it was built into the cavern and the top reached the rocky ceiling. The upper two levels were open enough to allow ballistas to be employed, but everywhere else it only had small windows and arrow slits.

Armin didn’t let that stop him. He charged forward, into a group of soldiers who’d formed up before the tower. Followed by those behind him, their charge disordered the enemy’s ranks. He slashed at several soldiers, pressing forward. He couldn’t stop. Instead, Armin condensed more mana into armor, stole another sword from an enemy and forced others back, trusting in his soldiers to guard his back where they could.

Then he was through and close enough to the tower. The door was closed and barred, but he ignored it for now. Instead, Armin jumped up. His shadows enveloped him and wound through him; he passed through a window that should have been far too small for his frame, materializing enough to shove an enemy back inside the tower room. Then he lashed out with his blades and more dark mana, clearing the room.

His arrival hardly went unnoticed, but it only took a minute to fight his way through the tower to the entrance and throw the door open. His company poured into the tower after him, and he turned, running up the stairs to clear the upper levels.

There was only one opponent here who presented something approaching a challenge. At least, he withstood the first exchange of blows and almost managed to cut Armin’s face. Armin paused long enough to take in his information. A Blade Dancer, Level 58. Clearly an officer and probably from a leading family — ah, House Anevien, that made some sense.

“It is truly a sign of the Reformists’ weakness,” the man said, raising his sword in a mocking salute as they circled each other on the uppermost level, “that they need a foreigner to lead their troops. So much for organizing themselves, right?”

“At least the men I lead are fighting for their own interests,” Armin responded calmly.

“And you think I don’t?” The Loyalist shook his head, scoffing. “This revolt has brought nothing but pain and chaos. But defeating you will bring me glory!”

Armin dodged, feeling another blade whisper past his ear. The man was quick, but not quick enough. He stayed on the defensive, gauging his skill and tempo. His opponent clearly had more of their Abilities remaining than he did, but Armin still had higher Stats.

More of his soldiers hurried up the stairs, throwing open the door behind them. It provided a momentary distraction, but that was enough. Armin darted forward, stabbing a dagger of darkness at his opponent. The officer blocked it with an Ability, a transparent force-field that bounced his strike back. But the weapon was insubstantial, so Armin simply dropped it. He turned, grabbed the man’s offhand, and locked his blade against his. They grappled for a moment. Armin got in close, stepping on his foot and kneeing him in the soft parts. The armor blunted the attack, but the dark elf still flinched back slightly. Armin took advantage of that to break the lock and slide his blade upwards. It found a gap between his opponent’s pauldron and helmet, sinking into his neck.

Armin stepped back, watching his opponent intently until he was certain the man was dead, then turned around. The fight was still ongoing, but the noise seemed to be winding down.

“Master Ulaven, we’ve cleared the tower,” the highest-ranking of the soldiers present reported. “Our forces are securing the cavern. What should we do?”

“Take some people and try to cut off the enemy from the eastern tunnel,” Armin ordered. “Make sure to capture as many as possible without letting them escape. The rest of you, get started on helping the injured, take stock of casualties. And inspect the tower, is there any structural damage?”

The primary objective here was the tower, so he stayed to make sure it was secured. While the battle concluded and the cleanup began, Armin took stock of the situation. This was only one part of the larger battle, but he could tell that it had gone similarly. They’d won a victory today.

Madris contacting him only confirmed it. Good work today, Armin, she praised. They have broken and scattered. I’m tracking the runners and stragglers, but most of them are regrouping in the straight tunnels to the northwest. They will probably withdraw to rejoin their main host as soon as possible, but I will send some skirmishers to encourage them to go in that direction.

Good, then the way for us to link up with the main Reformist army is clear, and we’ve secured the western approach, he replied, pleased at the news.

It meant they had now secured a broad stretch of territory to the west and southwest of the Eternal Dark as well as the main approach to the Reformist stronghold farther toward its center. With the fortifications on this main road in their hands, as well as those towns and strongholds they’d taken previously, it should remain that way unless the Loyalists made a truly concerted push for it — which they almost certainly wouldn’t as long as the Reformist forces were still there. Both sides would probably focus on a more direct confrontation, where they would try to bring as much of their forces as possible to bear, now.

Armin made sure the watchtower was in good hands, then decamped to meet Madris and the rest of their small army’s leadership. They were already converging on a cavern to the east, where a small village used to stand — no more than a few houses. The inhabitants had left, probably to escape the battle, or possibly, they’d been displaced by the Loyalist forces beforehand. The houses were cleared out, so at least they’d taken their possessions with them. The army’s leaders stood on a covered veranda where they’d be out of the way, but still able to see everything.

“We should spend the night here, then move east as planned,” Otemien said as Armin arrived. “There’s no point in going out of our way to chase down the remnants of their forces, it would only delay us for little gain.”

“Agreed,” Madris answered. She was already looking east, at the large tunnel leading in that direction. And ignoring the looks that the passing soldiers gave her. “I want to reach the Council, as soon as possible. Perhaps Armin and I should go ahead, with a part of our forces, I trust you to manage the rest of them on the march.”

“I would also like to rejoin my fellows soon,” Sarkol grumbled. He was favoring his right side, Armin noticed. “But is there news from the east, Ulaven? Have you spoken to them?”

It was a little weird to no longer be ‘Ulaven’ by default, actually. Otemien and Anevien (Alco, not the other) twitched slightly at, Armin presumed, the disrespectful address. For people who’d joined the soldiers’ revolt, they were surprisingly … fond of Madris’ position, or just deferential to her. Well, that’s fine as long as it’s just her, and it clearly is.

Of course Madris didn’t seem to care. “Yes, I’ve spoken to a few people. The distance is still too far to talk at length, but they are aware of our coming. Their armies have advanced to the Gate of the Central North, now. And the last estimates we had on enemy forces still seem to be accurate. Our allies are preparing for battle. There is some debate on whether to encourage diplomacy first.”

He liked the way she put that; encourage diplomacy, because it was going to happen anyway regardless of what they did. This was good to know, though.

“Then it sounds like we have little specific reason to hurry, at least,” Otemien noted.

“As I said, I would prefer to arrive as soon as possible,” Madris stated with finality. “Expedite our departure.”

That was that, and the conversation turned to practical matters before they hurried away to see about various tasks. Armin lingered, though. He was not a soldier, or part of their structure, so everyone had decided to leave the organizational matters to the other leaders instead, and he was at a bit of loose ends when it came to times like these. Mostly, though, it was because he wanted to speak to Madris.

“Is everything okay?” he asked as soon as they were alone.

Madris sighed. He knew her well enough to read the conflicted feelings in her expression. Why do you ask, Armin?

It’s been bothering me for a while, actually, he responded, also switching to speaking silently. Despite the connection, her mind was unreadable to him. I know it’s not just because you still have a bit of trouble with your speech. He’d gotten used to that, but it was still evident. There’s something else weighing on you, and I’d like to know why. And why you want to meet the Reformist leaders so soon. Is it about your family?

Madris remained quiet for a moment. I suppose you should know, she finally answered. I’ve been hesitant to tell you, because … well, I suppose it felt like talking about it would make it more real. But is ignoring a prophecy wise, even if it might be self-fulfilling? She shook her head. Regardless, just before I went to join you, a message from Regina reached me …

Armin listened, trying not to judge as she related the Empress’ message. A vision from a Seer? He frowned. I can see why it would bother you, but … no, I understand. It’s a lot to consider. But is that why you want to join the Council so quickly?

He might have thought it would make her hesitant to come or involve herself in the war at all, if she wanted to avoid this ‘prophecy’.

I am not entirely sure how much I do want to avert it, Madris admitted. Obviously, there are some parts I’d rather not see or do — that staircase of bone sounds unpleasant, for once, especially as a symbol. I’d rather not cause that much bloodshed. But the vision also implies we can win this war, and … even that I could unite people behind our cause, perhaps? And most of all, I just don’t want to leave this to others. It sounds like a lot of this might, or will, happen whether I’m present or not. I’d rather be able to anticipate and influence events rather than being caught by surprise.

Yes, that makes a lot of sense. Armin nodded. And until we learn more, it’s probably best not to worry about it too much.

Indeed. Madris smiled sardonically.

They were interrupted by other dark elf officers, and Armin went to check on the army’s progress and help get it moving. But he still found his thoughts stuck on their conversation. That night, he found little sleep, and it wasn’t just because he was sleeping in a slightly damp cavern.

But at least everything seemed to be going very well otherwise. They made good progress, and having Madris — as well as him and Sarkol — with the vanguard seemed to lift people’s spirits. They also traveled through friendly territory, or at least territory they’d already secured.

Because of their scouts and Madris’ warning, it also came as no surprise when they saw another group of dark elves approaching them. Outriders from the main host, apparently including some people who had come riding out to greet Madris personally.

Armin slid into position to guard Madris’ back mostly by force of habit, watching the approaching dark elves. One of them pushed ahead slightly, but reined his mount in when they met.

“Madris,” he finally said, a smile growing on his face. He visibly hesitated for a moment before getting down from his tamed beast.

Madris stepped forward. “Father,” she greeted Lermen, showing little emotion in her voice.

Perhaps there was more to her desire to get here quickly, Armin thought as he watched them. He smiled slightly as the father and daughter met and embraced.

Armin looked at the other dark elves who’d come with him, mostly wearing the symbol of house Oliren. Everyone was giving the reunion a bit of space. Even Sarkol.

Once the embrace ended, Lermen met Armin’s eyes and inclined his head slightly. He looked decades younger all of a sudden.

“Praise the gods that you’re here,” Lermen said. “We will need your skill and strength, daughter.”

“Praise someone, anyway,” Madris muttered quietly, almost too faint to hear. “It’s good to see you again. I will do what I can.”

That, Armin didn’t doubt for a second. Although on reflection, it was somewhat funny that everyone seemed to be accepting her presence and even that she would be in a leadership position so readily, without even questioning where she’d been.