EA Interlude - Memories of Conquest

The great ringed city of Calmexia stood as a vast and many-spired beacon of civilization. The bow of the Calese ran into a great gate on one side, and emerged on the opposite end. A great source of water in an otherwise arid, sunblasted land.

It had, for centuries, been seen as he greatest of the Galdian city states, with a vast library of arcane knowledge and one of the strongest standing armies in the region. Much of said army was, at present, impaled on a slew great pikes held in the hands of Viisa Hauron’s army.

The watchers on the wall had seen them well in advance, those corpses being waved about like a macabre parade. They had known to expect the Meridiem Empire, their scouts having born witness as the other city states fell one by one. The hope had been to lure the encroaching army into a trap, to leverage their position and knowledge of the land against he Meridiem’s superior numbers.

All in vain against the figure in the vast palanquin at the heart of the approaching steel horde.

The army came to a halt far from the outer wall, just beyond the range of Calmexia’s archers and trebuchets. Their black flags fanned in the desert breeze, while flocks of carrion birds wheeled high in the air above them.

Slowly, the curtains of the palanquin parted as a figure stepped out. Of a modest height but strongly built, the raven haired young man had adorned himself in a finely tailored black robe and a white shoulder cloak. This was Viisa Hauron in the early days of his conquest. Still mostly human, still untouched by the myriad of profane rituals he would indulge in before the end of his life.

He raised a hand, his body starting to shimmer with pale white light. When he spoke his voice carried across the great gulfs of sand and rock, as if he were speaking into the ears of every soldier standing on the walls.

“Guardians of Calmexia. Your army is broken and bested, their corpses a testament to your failure. I have come to claim your city as my own. But I am not without mercy. Surrender now, and I shall see only the rulers of your city put to the sword. You owe them nothing. If you protect them, you will die along side them. I implore you to make the rational choice.”

Viisa said no more, standing on the deck of his palanquin and watching the city with burning, red-eyed intensity.

General Anzod Allux, warmaster of the city walls, sneered and leaned against the battlements. He watched the distant figure through a telescope, and held his nerve even as he felt Viisa staring back at him. “Little upstart bastard,” he hissed, curling his pointed nose in disdain.

“Sir?” one soldier at his side asked, shifting nervously and fidgeting with his crossbow.

“We can endure, weather a siege,” Anzod said. “We dispatched birds to Trenzia and Bhen-Jai only the other day. We just need to hold out until their armies can reinforce us.”

There was a flash by the palanquin, and in the next instant Viisa Hauron was hovering just above the battlements. He sneered down at Anzod, his handsome features distorted by his disdain. “Is that your last word on the matter?”

Anzod froze, a strangled cry rising in his throat. The other soldiers present quickly got over their initial shocking, loosing dozens of arrows and bolts toward him. They shattered apart meters away from him, striking an invisible wall of air. Viisa’s sneer didn’t falter.

“You see, I already had to siege Balagan and Kese. I’m quite tired of sieges. It’s a chore having to walk the streets of cannibalized corpses and half eaten rats. It’s a bother having to fish bloated suicide victims from the canals. And the smell just lingers eternally.” He narrowed his eyes, sparks of fire briefly flickering at the edges of them. “So I ask again. Surrender, or no?”

He gestured to the soldier behind Anzod. The young man screamed, his limbs and torso elongating and twisting like rubber. Anzod could only watch, mouth agape in horror, as the poor boy was literally twisted into a knot. Then Viisa released his telekinetic grasp, letting him melt into the flagstones as a pool of molten meat.

“We...” Anzod swallowed harshly. “We surrender.”

“Good boy. Pass the word along.”

And so, when the day came to an end, Calmaxia fell with only a few deaths that day. One by one the leaders and aristocrats were gathered in the central plaza. Viisa’s headman saw to them, and their tarred heads were left on spikes in that plaza. A firm message to the locals that they were now subjects of the wizard emperor.

That dream dominated Luna’s mind as she recovered from the intense exertion of her bout with the gargoyle. Those clerics left to watch over Luna, tending to her and ensuring she was on the path to recovery, could not help but notice their mysterious hero was smiling in her sleep.

It was a good memory.