The Calamitous Bob

General Kobanis led his men north, back to the ancestral land of their clan. Or what was left of it.

He could see the writing on the walls. Arana clung to it because it was her nature to never let go of anything, but the Empire was done for. It was designed to function in isolation… and it was no longer in isolation. The foe had come ready to attack. There was never any hope for peace.

He knew his clan's position on politics. The elders said the clan had led the empire through the crisis and now it was only fair that they would reap the benefits. The citizens had proven they needed strong leadership, that they could not be trusted with independence. So the clan provided officials, soldiers, experts, and in return, why, of course it would get all the food and tools it could use.

Many of his men believed this strongly. They were owed the entire cake and whatever crumbs fell into the laps of others were only through magnanimous grace. They'd been told this from childhood. As for proof, the sorry state of every other village was ample evidence the other tribes were simply inferior.

Kobanis knew it was horse shit, just as he knew the other tribes were free now, free and armed. When a tribe clung to power to the detriment of everyone else, they couldn't let it go. The history of the empire was filled with examples of groups going too far in the pursuit of power, and what happened with it slipped between their clenched fingers.

There was only one way this could end.

He needed to gather every able bodied person, load as many provisions as possible on whatever cart they could find, then escape south before the others came for them too. There was land there they could take from the natives thanks to steel and good training. Maybe some ships would leave the port before it fell.

This was the only way.

As the army crossed yet another meadow, his second in command leaned towards him. He was solid but obviously worried. Kobanis wasn't worried. He was terrified. Terrified of what they would find, because if everything was burnt as they'd been told… his people would starve or get caught and purged from the surface of Param.

Kobanis didn't show it though.

"General, it has been over an hour since we came across the last refugee."

"I am well aware. That is why we are in formation."

A sturdy line walked across the growing field, trampling growth that they would never get the chance to harvest. Stress made them lean forward, hands gripping their weapons with too much force. It would tire them. Kobanis had already made a speech this morning about the importance of discipline but there was only so much his path could do when news of ravaged farmsteads arrived with every new family gathering at their back. All he could do was stand tall and hope there was enough to salvage to start over somewhere else.

Far in front, at the edge of the forest, a man crested the incline. Cries of alarm rang across the squads as soon as his horned helmet came into view.

The man was alone for now but that wouldn't last. Kobanis recognized the slightly blue skin visible through the open helmet and the black steel armor from the many reports he'd gotten.

This was a New Harrakan zealot. Their commander, to be precise.

He would kill to know how they'd gotten there so quickly.

"I pity you, sinners."

The man's voice covered the plain and the defiant ranks of the army. He didn't yell, yet all could hear him. A skill, to be sure. Kobanis hated the way it positively vibrated with a conviction he had lost decades before. That man was a believer. Believers ought to be feared. There was an old imperial saying: The meeting of blind faith and reality never ends well. Kobanis reacted immediately, before unease could spread through the ranks.

"Wedge formation. Prepare to break through!"

He could not receive the line breakers passively. He no longer had the archers for it. The only hope was to counter charge, cancel some of their abilities, surround them, and kill them.

"I pity you because you will die never having experienced greatness."

The ground shook. His men hesitated. Kobanis himself hesitated.

This was not sorcery. He was old enough to tell when the mana in the air changed. No, this was something else.

Carts crested the incline, first one, then two, then four. Those were to carriages what snakewolves were to puppies, however. Even calling them carts was preposterous. They were steel beasts, armored like heavy knights and sporting strange tubes at the top. Kobanis couldn't see a single piece of wood on the entire damn thing. There was enough metal here to arm half a thousand men. Line breakers formed squads between the metal behemoths, massive weapons resting contemptuously on their shoulders. Small fires lit up in front of the tubes.

Kobanis had a bad feeling about this. His danger sense screamed to run, even though there was barely any mana seeping from the constructs. They were powered by a core, to be sure, but they were not spell arrays.

Then what the fuck were they?

Was he still supposed to charge?

"I pity you because you stand here, terrified, at the hour of your failure while I do not. Although my flesh will decay, I know no fear. Although my sword shall break, I will not give up, and although my mind may crumble, my heart shall never falter, for yes, I am mortal, flawed, weak, temporary… but I serve HARRAK! And Harrak, oh, Harrak."

The tubes… ignited. Tongues of flame spat out from the armored carriages like the breath of dragons, turning the air yellow, hot, and suffocating.

"Harrak is eternal."

All hell broke loose. Kobani yelled orders but they were not followed. They were not even heard. His path was too low to maintain order in the face of… this. The tongues mixed and though they were slow compared to many spells, the men were packed together.

And then Kobanis' world was only heat, smoke, and screams. A shield wall formed. It was scorched immediately, the skill failing as steel melted along with the flesh underneath. The screams. The people he'd known for years, now blazing corpses dancing in a twilight realm.

"Run!" his second bellowed, 'Run!"

But Kobanis didn't run. He grabbed who he could to reform, knowing if they fled here, it would all be over. He tried, but the carriages of death advanced and the line breakers sprinted.

Perhaps it was justice after all.

***

Frosthawk was having an interesting evening, and by that he meant that it was the most exciting and tragic moment of his gods-accursed life. After decades of uninterrupted rule, Arana's power had crumbled like a rotten leaf.

The love of his life was dead.

Now he had to save what he could, namely, his idiot students. The wind carried him over the waves, past the large white sails of the imperial ships.

He would freeze those on the way back. Let the withered bitch try to flee on an icicle.

Power carried him all the way to the parapet. The old fortress overlooking Frostway was as familiar to him as the palm of his hand, having learnt the craft here for years. He knew every nook and cranny. Right now, the fortress was silent. It could change very quickly, however, he had made sure of it. Kneeling, he tapped on one of the stones of the battlement walkway.

A panel opened. Stone moved to reveal lines of text.

As expected, Phaerus had taken over; that bootlicker. He had expelled Frosthawk from every list he could find down to the admission one. If Frosthawk tried to enter now, the doors would trigger an alarm just by grabbing the handle.

Frosthawk smiled. He waved his hand once, entered a complex code, then reinstated himself as the administrator. Then, immediately, he prevented the system from tracking him. He couldn't expel Phaerus without giving him notice, unfortunately.

Had to do things the hard way.

Frosthawk flew to the other side of the keep, then off to a secondary tower. The door yielded before him. He slipped inside, then walked down a narrow staircase down to an empty corridor. Dim lights made the familiar place ominous.

Frosthawk called upon the meaning of the ephemeral as he cloaked himself in gray magic. His form grew misty and wraith-like. He made his way to his study, leaving no traces behind. The door proved to be trapped. Phaerus was no fool. It wouldn't be enough to stop him.

Rather than taking the risk to spring the construct, Frosthawk made his way to the laundry room. He floated above a hurrying servant on the way there. The cleaning room smelled of soap, as usual. A hidden panel opened revealing the secret passage back to his haunt.

Phaerus had stolen his focus, as expected, but also his collection of infusing herbs. That was unacceptable. With one last grumble, Frosthawk reached for yet another secret panel for his secondary focus, as well as a revitalizing potion he gulped down immediately. Energy filled his frame.

"I'm too old for this shit," he grumbled to himself.

But the students needed him.

Thus ready, Frosthawk walked out, and found no one. The place was deserted. Another panel revealed why: everyone was in the great room. Frosthawk sighed. He hated theatrics when it was done in public, but… maybe it would give him an edge.

There were two members of Arana's retinue by the door leading to the main hall, some of the last surviving Eyes according to their gear, either guards or trainees. The one on the left frowned when he approached in his ethereal form. Two waves of gray-blue energy expanded from his hands.

The guards took one rattling breath, their skin turning gray in the same instant. Their faces were expressions of frozen surprise. Frosthawk walked by the unmoving corpses and used another spell to listen to what was happening inside of the hall.

Phaerus was talking. Of course he was. He loved the sound of his own voice.

"Sedition will not be tolerated. Your duty, our duty, is to the empire itself, its people! Regardless of what you think of our governance, this is not the time to fight it. We must stay united against the existential threat that endangers us all. Who could look upon our work and think we are not carrying the weight of civilization upon our shoulders?"

Oh, that was his cue.

Frosthawk destroyed the hinges with a quick gray blade, then he slammed his boot against it, sending it tumbling to the floor. The light of the main hall lit his figure while he strutted on with confidence.

Maybe the girl was having a deleterious influence on him. He was starting to enjoy theatrics as well.

"Frosthawk!" the portly mage bellowed. "Traitor! You return!"

Phaerus stood on the elevated platform at the end of the hall where the faculty usually sat. As for the students, they stood at attention under the watchful gaze of the remaining professors, though none seemed very enthusiastic about the situation.

"Despite your pathetic attempts at stopping me, I have. I come to recover my students and get them out of here before Arana decides to 'test their loyalty'."

Frosthawk and Phaerus carved circles under them at the same time. Everyone else jogged away from the line of fire with grim fatalism. This was what the school had been reduced to: resigned practitioners of the art too afraid to make a stand.

That was Frosthawk's fault, as well. He was the headmaster. He was the husband of his deceased wife. No one else had more opportunities to solve problems than he did, and he had failed them all.

There was still time to save his students, however.

"I knew you were a prideful man," Phaerus said, "but I never took you for a traitor."

"My family wasn't made of traitors either, but now my wife is dead and my children half-starved, all while I stood here writing petitions to 'her ladyship'. No more."

Phaerus scoffed.

"More foreign lies poisoning your ears."

"My children told me themselves," Frosthawk spat, anger distracting him from the upcoming duel. "They told me how she slept and didn't wake. They told me with their gaunt faces and their eyes that told me I WASN'T THERE FOR THEM. I failed them! I failed them. But I won't fail my students, even if I have to slay you, my old rival."

Frosthawk readied his nastiest curses, but instead of screaming at him, Phaerus lowered his staff. The runes faded.

"Lena is dead?"

"She died last winter. Months ago. The letters I received were falsified. I professed my love and hope to a corpse," Frosthawk choked.

"What? But… they were supposed to be safe."

"Arana lied. Shocking, no?"

"Are you certain?"

"I swear on Enttiku upon pain of death that it is the truth."

Frosthawk shivered when something ancient caressed his soul. The fact he was left standing spoke of his truthfulness, or rather, that he believed his words with absolute conviction.

Phaerus dispelled his own circle.

"I am sorry. I didn't know. Lena, no…"

Frosthawk was almost sorry he didn't get to kill him. Bloodlust still filled his veins but he forced himself to breathe instead. The empire had suffered enough.

"We must evacuate now before Arana realizes her guards are dead. Everyone get back to their rooms and take what you need for a three day trip. No need for food."

"I shall come as well," Phaerus said with conviction.

It was true what the girl said. People were only convinced of the gravity of a situation when it directly affected them. Frosthawk could hardly blame Phaerus since he'd done the exact same thing.

"Very well, but you need to help me disable the fleet first."

Phaerus nodded.

"Just like old times then."

***

"That's the group that killed our tool caravan guards," Rollo's paramour said. "Let's ride them down!"

Rollo took a deep breath, then turned to the dark-haired man. He watched the handsome and sometimes cruel features revealed by the open helmet. In there, he saw his own drive mirrored with just a dash of savagery.

"You will wait," Rollo stated.

He surveyed the plain in front of him. Tall grass, but a few inspections and his own path skills detected no ambush, no matter how unlikely it would have been. There was just a large group of Remnants infantry — stragglers and some reinforcements — marching around a carriage overloaded with supplies. It was a Harrakan carriage. Stolen. That wouldn't do at all.

"Forgive me, ser," his paramour said, chastised.

Rollo ignored him for now.

There it was, a wide, flat plain, a spear in his hand, his lover by his side, and not a single, fucking mage in sight.

It was just… perfect.

"You will be disciplined later," he informed the man by his side with an amicable smile. "PREPARE TO CHARGE."

Rollo looked around long enough to see if the formation was correct before closing the visor of his own armet. The world was narrower through the eye slits but sometimes, one needed to abandon the broader picture and focus on the moment.

"The Rose!" he roared.

"And the Thorns!" his knights replied.

Their chargers accelerated towards the panicking mass of spearmen.

Life was good.

***

Like trickles converging into a river, the tide of people gathered behind Viv. First, the villagers and troops she had gathered south, the fishing communities left at the mercy of monsters, then Cerus and his people joined them with the Kark. There were guardians, civilians, and even a few tribe members freed from the slaving villages who had decided to join anyway. Rakan teleported from the north with the angry survivors of the gulag, and Frosthawk joined with his own apprentices soon after. Rollo and the Bitter Hearts marched from the east at the head of a newly formed militia, eager to take revenge on those who had destroyed their villages. Finally, Lak-Tak and the other nastier members of Viv's retinue rolled from the north east atop siege engines lined with spikes. It was a sea of humanity that arrived at Frostbay at dawn, close to ten thousand people all included, there to witness the collision of two paths.

Viv welcomed all of them as they arrived, and she thanked each of her lieutenants one by one. There were debriefs and analyses because people could always do better, her included, but it was important to acknowledge that New Harrak was not just her anymore. It was everyone. She'd just gathered them for the same purpose.

By contrast, the city was empty. Everyone from urchin to crafter had fled to the hills to wait out the conflict, at least those who had not joined Viv immediately. The only activity came from the direction of the palace, where something large was being propped up. She didn't really care much. It might be dangerous, but it wouldn't be as dangerous as a juvenile dragon.

Viv smiled.

Fate buoyed her. She couldn't really see it, but her soul felt the telltale sign of her spark of luck working overtime to complete something. She let it happen, not eager to break what she knew would come to her eventually.

On that dawn and facing Frostbay, she felt it come to her. She turned.

There were woods in the distance, but in front, there was no plain, only eager faces sticking to each other in clumps for the remnants' people, and well-ordered groups for the New Harrakans. Tension and expectation mounted as the crowd slowly moved into place. With so many people, it took a while.

A part of Viv panicked at seeing such a large group. Thoughts of stampedes and concern over supply lines assailed her mind but she put them down. There would be no battle here. The teleporters were in place. The only thing left to do was to make history.

Viv levitated herself above the crowd so all could see her. A sound enchantment would carry her voice far, though the pressure on her soul now was so strong she was sure she could be speaking French and they would understand her anyway. It was one of those moments.

She just had to seize it.

By ripping off important Earth documents!

"My people."

"Some of you are here today because you are New Harrakan, and what I will say, you already hold in your hearts as true, or you would not be here. Some of you have come to see the end of the tyranny that has choked you for your entire lives, either impelled by fear, or by hope. Some of you may not be sure why you came, only that it was important that you did so. It is all of you I shall address now to put into words what has brought us here."

"We are here because we believe the self-evident truths that mankind aspires to universal ideas. We believe that those ideals include Life, Safety, Liberty, and the Pursuit of Happiness on whatever path the people may have chosen. We believe that those ideals represent the highest aspiration of mankind and that their accomplishment will lead to a future free of misery, tyranny, and ignorance. We believe that to be perennial and just, to receive the unwavering support of its people, a ruler must embody those ideals. A ruler and its people united by those ideals shall endure any hardships, for they work towards a divine purpose that the light gods themselves would support fully."

"We believe that when a ruler becomes destructive of these ends, when they perform actions for the sole purpose of continuing an oppressive dominion over their subject, it is the Right of the People to rise against them and to end them."

"We are here to finish what we started: the unification of Harrak into a nation that holds those beliefs as true, and promotes them. Together, we shall be a beacon of conviction on Param and beyond. We shall hold to the belief that progress and success are not just possible through common effort, they are not just a possibility. They are our duty. My covenant to you is to follow those ideals to the best of my ability. What I ask of you is to walk that path with me, no matter how daunting it becomes. I only ask of you what I ask of myself: to believe, and to give myself the means of making those beliefs a reality. Now, I ask you. Harrakans. Will you join me in this covenant?"

The New Harrakans did not hesitate a single second. Their roars filled the plains in a thunderous wave, the ground shaking with every hit of heavy gauntlet against their shields. Viv was concerned for a moment that she'd been too verbose for farmers and fishermen, but soul magic carried the meaning to their minds, as she knew it would, and they were prompt to join them. Soul power pushed against Viv like a tide, demanding an answer, demanding something concrete. A commitment that went beyond words.

She stretched her anchors and allowed it.