“This isn’t a strategy for conquest. What is the point of conquest if all the Guards are killed in the process? And if defeat and death are too certain, wouldn’t I surely choose to retreat with all my Prestige and Vassals?”
Gilgamesh deduced the mind of his hidden foe.
“That must be the point. This isn’t conquest. It’s raiding. They’re just bandits who aim to pillage Prestige while they force me away. They’ll surely return.”
Gilgamesh spotted some of his Guards starting to defect, and made a bold move in response. “With me.”
Gilgamesh led his entire Inner Circle to patrol the space between the Middle and Outer Walls as he waited for a second attack.
[ Purple King: Report. ]
[ Scout Four: Nothing out of the ordinary. ]
“No bandits over there… I doubt they are involved. Kubera benefits nothing from this. Did the bandits just happen to choose me as their target, or are they Vassals of another Faction? One of the clans that see our alliance as a threat. Perhaps they are only targeting me in hopes that I grow distrustful of the Pandava and break the alliance. That seems more likely.”
Gilgamesh thought for a moment, then sent a Message to someone else. In that moment, the Bandits returned. Just as before, they made a show of surrounding his Faction and then they lunged.
“Bait.” Sereth informed him.
Gilgamesh was about to order his Guards not to accuse the Bandits, but then he stopped himself. Instead, he held his tongue and sent a Message.
As the Bandits rushed in, most of the next row of Outer Guards accused them of treason, and all who did so lost their trial. The Bandits teleported away the moment they returned, and many of his Guards in the Outer Wall began to defect. Most of the newly recruited Guards were now gone, either killed or deserted.
Gilgamesh still held his tongue. Only once the Bandits returned again did he finally give an order.
“Accuse them!”
None among the Guards obeyed, poisoned with hesitation because of the fate of the ones before them. But they were not the ones that Gilgamesh ordered.
Just as the Bandits enveloped his Guards once again, they were surrounded by the Legion he had called back and struck with accusations. Every last one of the hundred bandits was executed all at once.
“That should be a severe blow to whatever Faction they belong to, but it won’t end with just this. The Guards will be quicker to defect now.” Gilgamesh eyed the Ballroom like a hawk. “I’ll need to replenish the Outer Wall with those who know nothing about that kind of attack.”
Gilgamesh led a reckless campaign in the respite and rebuilt his Guard Walls stronger than ever. He moved the two remaining Outer Guard rows to the middle, making the Middle Wall five rows deep, and formed three new rows of Outer Guards.
Once again, he patrolled behind the Outer Wall with his company of Inner Guards and waited for the inevitable attack. Just as he expected, more Bandits appeared and acted exactly as their predecessors had.
“Half.” Sereth informed.
“Accuse them!" Gilgamesh ordered the Outer Wall.
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A flood of trials saw 50 bandits and 50 Guards executed, but the other half of the bandits who survived were quickly killed by his Dagger-wielding Soldiers.
Gilgamesh endured the losses without concern. His objective was to eliminate the Bandits, and sacrificing one Guard for the lives of two Bandits was an acceptable trade.
The Bandits returned as they always did, but once again their tactics changed.
“Look, he’s just sending you to die!”
“You dumbasses really think he’s going to give you Prestige?!”
“You’re all going to die!”
Demoralizing slander and threats showered the Guards like hail, and some of them already started to balk. Gilgamesh ignored the Bandits since responding would only make things worse, but there was only so much his Guards could take before they cracked.
“How to solve this problem…” Gilgamesh eyed the Bandits eagerly. “None of them has more than 10 Prestige. Low even by Hunter standards.”
“Wear them down with Clashes!” Gilgamesh ordered. “See how loud they shout when their Prestige reaches 0!”
His Guards did as told and quickly depleted their Prestige, but the Bandits merely scurried away when theirs got too low and returned with just a bit more.
“Something is amiss.” Gilgamesh thought. His Guards dominated the battle of Clashes, but nothing changed. There was no sense of concern or frustration among the Bandits, nor did their numbers decrease. “They flee when they lose too much, and flee as soon as they win…”
“They’re losing often, but never losing much. It’s a poor strategy overall, but only for normal armies. The Bandits lose often, but their losses are minimal while their gains from victories are far larger. That’s why they maintain such low Prestige.”
“This is disadvantageous. My Guards are superior, but a single victory on the Bandits’ side is worth 20 on mine. I’ll eventually lose to this strategy.”
Gilgamesh assessed the values of Prestige on both sides.
“My Guards win 4 out of 5 Clashes. I’d need to lower the Prestige of the front row to less than 30 to take back the advantage. But…” Gilgamesh’s eyes steeled. “The Guards won’t accept that, especially when their minds are filled with doubts and concerns. All that jeering before was setting up for this.”
Gilgamesh watched as more Bandits scurried away. “Their base is replenishing them. Serving as a hub to store and distribute Prestige as needed. But where is it?”
[ Purple King: Report. ]
[ Hallway Scout One: They’re just entering the Hallway and coming back out. ]
[ Hallway Scout Four: Bandits leave the Ballroom, then come back out with less than 10 Prestige and head straight for our base. ]
“People can’t wait in the Hallway forever. Is their base in the Lounge, then? That’s right…” Gilgamesh recalled the Duke he had seen interacting with a stream of Barons.
“The Leader acts as a reservoir of Prestige, a treasury. Bandits do all the work in the Ballroom while he gives orders and manages the Prestige from the safety of the Lounge.”
Gilgamesh’s eyes sharpened.
“The only way to win is to take out their Leader. Anything else is only delaying the inevitable. Daggers and Pawns are easy to obtain. No matter how far the battle leans in my favor or how many Assassins I eliminate, the enemy will just send more until I am depleted. Such a simple and devastating tactic…”
Gilgamesh refrained from informing Kubera about any of this, as there was no benefit in doing so. His Guards were better at organized Clashes. Reinforcement would only give the Bandits more Prestige to plunder.
[ Station yourselves at the Hallway. Kill every Baron leaving the Ballroom with more than 50 Prestige. ]
Gilgamesh commanded several dozen Soldiers to enact constant waves of assassinations. Some unrelated bystanders would be caught in the crossfire, but most would be Bandits, and that would at least stifle the Leader’s flow of revenue.
Soldiers rushed the potential Bandits who approached the Hallway once again, and the Bandits accused them of treason. But the light of judgement found nothing and all those Bandits who made False Accusations were executed.
Gilgamesh smiled. He had used the Bandits’ own tactics against them. This was among his favorite parts of the game; taking the tactics of others and grafting them to himself like extra limbs. Every battle made him stronger. Every calamity only served to temper him for the next.
“This is it… This is how it is meant to be.” Gilgamesh reveled in this most thrilling game that returned power for his efforts.
He saw the path below, littered with corpses and thorns. He saw the hazy outline of the oasis on the horizon; his destination, his destiny forged by no one but himself. A monster with a thousand arms.
Gilgamesh opened the book and found a story. Each page was illustrated with a simple but dignified drawing, accompanied by only a few short passages, which together told the story of the palace.
'In the beginning, the King built a magnificent palace and ruled over its prosperity.'
The page showed the initial painting of the perfect palace.
'But one day, his loyal follower, the Jester, grew jealous of him.'
This painting showed the Jester standing within the shadow of the corridor. His back was turned to the King in the distance, as he looked over his shoulder.
'So jealous that he tricked the Princess into revealing how he could steal a weapon from the Treasury that could kill the King.'
It showed the Jester whispering in the Princess' ear when no one else was looking.
'The Jester ruthlessly sacrificed the Princess to obtain the Golden Dagger, and attacked the King.'
The painting was of the Jester leaping at the King with a Golden Dagger in hand. In front of him, the King recoiled back in his throne with his hand held out to protect himself. And behind him, the Princess lay dead on the ground with the pure white silk around her heart stained red.
'But even with the Golden Dagger, the Jester could not defeat the King's most powerful follower. At the King's command, the Executioner inflicted a mortal wound upon the Jester.'
Gilgamesh lingered on the drawing of the Puppet King, still sat upon the throne, but now pointed out a finger in fury. Ahead of him, the Jester was struck down by the Executioner and the Golden Dagger fell from his hands.
'But even in death, the Jester's jealousy would not end. He fell below the majesty of the palace, and returned as a Phantom to haunt its hallowed halls.'
A sequence of drawings showed the Jester fall below the ground and into a windowless dungeon. His mask split in half and a black cloak enveloped him, and he rose as something else.
'Now the Jester lurks in the shadows of the palace as a Phantom, awaiting his chance to usurp the King and claim the throne for himself.'
The final drawing was of the King, now old and weary, sitting upon the throne with his head in his hand. The Executioner guarded him fiercely as the Phantom watched on from the shadows.
Painting:
The next room he came across was a Gallery filled with the most exquisite paintings he had ever seen, although the subjects of them all were Puppets. Most seemed irrelevant. There was no shortage of great battles, wondrous events, and hellish scenes. But one among them captured his interest.
It was a painting of the Princess, fallen to her knees with a Golden Dagger plunged into her heart, and the Jester ominously looming over her. The Jester seemed to pull at the dagger, as if to claim it for himself, while the Princess grasped it tight, to deny him that prize. But the blood that stained her pure white dress red revealed that her attempt would only be in vain.
Though the Puppets had no expressions, Gilgamesh could not help but feel instinctively that it was not misery or fear which the Princess felt, but resolve. And it was not glee or satisfaction that the Jester felt in his wicked act, but a steeled lamentation.