Reborn as the First Boss, Book 5 Prologue

Prologue – Hatred

“Run, Ailuin. Run, and don’t look back.”

Ailuin Helecan groaned as his eyes opened, the screams in his nightmare echoing through his head. Those were the last words his mother had told him, the day the city fell. Before that, he had been happy, like any child should be. After? His world turned to ash.

The Kingdom of Smsera had existed for ages, longer than the Great Demon Empire of the Shadowed continent. Ailuin knew this, for he had been the child of a noble house, once upon a time. Before the Theocracy came. Before the burning of Ayath Serin.

Spurred on by a new wave of fear and zealotry after the Demon Army conquered and held a city on the Southern Continent, giving them a permanent foothold off the Shadowed Continent to launch new invasions, the human kingdom of Zosea had been overrun by religious fanatics. They tore down the old kingdom, and created the Theocracy of Eclana, a religious state that only allowed the worship of the eight major gods of the Humans. All others were ‘lesser’ and barely worth acknowledging, or being allowed to exist. Anyone who worshipped those gods in Eclana was looking at a death sentence, if they were lucky. If they weren’t, then they lived long enough to be put in the reeducation camps, where the Inquisitors purged the ‘heresy’ from them, one lash of the whip at a time.

Before, Zosea had been a minor kingdom, located between the elven lands of Smsera and Bikar. When the Theocracy took over, the entire country went into a war footing. If they had used that fervor to attack the demons, it would have been fine. Instead, they turned their gaze upon their neighbors, using the ‘will of the gods’ as reason for invasion.

Smsera had fallen, as had Galaetish and Loyura. Other minor countries banded together under the banner of Dascora. Their combined might forced the Theocracy to pause their war of religious conquest, but they had never given up their ambitions. And, for those like Ailuin, for whom the ‘Blessed Enlightenment’ was still in living memory, the wounds had not yet healed.

Ailuin sighed, and put aside the memories of the past as he performed his morning ablutions, before dressing himself in the livery of Dascora. He was no longer a noble, for his house was gone, but that did not mean he was idle, or had not won honor. He was General Ailuin Helecan, General of the Northern Reaches for the Kingdom of Dascora.

The Barony of the Northern Reaches was unique amongst all the baronies of Dascora. The mountains that sheltered the capitol at Coldpeak opened up into a valley here, where Yudor once met Dascora. Yudor had joined Dascora, and become the front lines of resistance against Eclana. The former kingdom turned barony was reorganized into a military fief, put directly under the command of the General in charge of the defense. Under his command.

“General!” One of the junior officers cried out as he walked into his war room. As one, everyone in the room snapped to attention, and saluted. Military discipline at its finest.

“At ease,” he nodded, before turning to his spymaster, Captain Sylmare, a fellow refugee of Smsera. “What is the news of the day, Captain?”

She nodded, adjusting the papers before her. “As you know, a second Hero has died. Reports from Coldpeak say that a Goblin Lord arose in Windwater Barony to the south, and the Voice of the World chose him as the new Hero. According to those same reports, Baroness Pureheart led the defense of her lands, and is credited with personally slaying the Goblin Hero.”

The General frowned. He had not met Pureheart, but he knew what his spymaster told him. A young noble, low level, untested in battle, according to all reports. It was not unbelievable that she could have some steel hidden under her noble exterior, but to be able to kill a Goblin Lord and Hero? That was unexpected.

However, such things were not his concern, unless Pureheart turned her newfound fangs against the kingdom. The death of the Hero meant he had other concerns. “What of the search for the new Hero? Have we any leads?”

Sylmare shook her head. “We have eyes out, looking for signs of a new Hero arising, but it has been a week and we have yet to find any sign of them. It is likely that the new Hero is in the Northern Reaches.”

“A pity,” he said, looking at the map. “We could have used a Hero to help counter the latest actions from Eclana. No matter. We’ll just do as we always have. A Hero would be nice to have, but we can defend Dascora from the Theocracy without one.”

There were grim nods all around the room. Everyone here was a veteran of the fighting against the Theocracy. While not at open war with the religious kingdom, there had been near constant border skirmishes with the zealots over the years. Still, the fighting was preferable to when the damned ‘missionaries’ tried to infiltrate the kingdom.

Speaking of missionaries, he noticed a report on the table. “What of the group we captured attempting to slip past the border?”

“Under interrogation by Mind Sorcerers, the leader of the group admitted to being an Inquisitor, with the rest of the forces being her retinue. Apparently, their High Priests of Zevlo and Eztar received revelations that someone managed to copy the ritual that the former hero turned Demon King, Darksoul the Betrayer, conducted, in order to give himself a better chance at living long enough to slay the Great Demon Emperor. The Eclanans apparently have their entire Inquisition out, looking for the perpetrator.”

“We have priests of the gods of Life and Death here, don’t we? What do they have to say about it?”

Sylmare looked to her reports. “Lifewarden Abelot and Deathspeaker Isabel confirm that their gods have given them similar warnings. However, the pact their churches made with Dascora prevent them from conducting any investigations themselves, save by watching and speaking with those who come to them.”

“Hmm. I’d always been skeptical of the claim that all traces of the ritual Darksoul used had been wiped out, even if he was from Eclana originally. But one does not risk angering the gods for no purpose. Someone is plotting something.” He took a breath, and then said, “I want a full tally of our supplies, whether for a siege or to march to war. And arrange a citizen training day, so that the people can brush up on their weapons skills.”

“As you command, General,” Sylmare nodded. “What of the Inquisitor and her people?”

“The same as we do to all Eclanan scum we catch. Give those in the retinue the choice of slavery or death. As for the Inquisitor, put a slave collar on her, and then station her in the barracks of the company that caught her, as a reward for their hard work. They may have free use of her while not on duty until she dies.”

For a moment, part of him considered what his parents, or his siblings would say of that, but then he remembered that they were all dead, with his elder sister, a priestess of Arasne, elven goddess of Beauty, burned at the stake for refusing to forswear her beliefs. The Inquisitors had not been merciful to his family, so he saw no reason to be merciful to them. Offering the retinue the choice of slavery or a quick death was all the mercy he had to offer to dogs of the Eclanan church.

He looked back at the map. The province of Loyura, formerly the Kingdom of Loyura, lay on the other side of the pass guarded by Fort Resolution. He longed to lead his army through the fort’s gates, and set about freeing Loyura, and the other lands enslaved by the Theocracy, from their yoke. But he knew the truth. They could win the day, but they did not have the troops to press forward and occupy and pacify the Eclanan provinces, while still defending against a counterattack, not without someone like a Hero to rally the people. No, much as it galled him, he had to be content with ensuring that the rats did not spread their disease to his second homeland.

Of course, the rise of a Hero meant that the Demon Army was likely moving again. If the demons attacked Eclana, then there might be a chance to ‘liberate’ the provinces as they marched to defeat the demons. In the chaos of the war, it would be easy to arrange accidents for any Eclanan officials they came across, and blame it on the demons. A pleasant fantasy, even if he knew it likely wouldn’t come true.