Mythos: Last Stand

  Chapter 30 — Best Laid Plans

  by Caide Fullerton

  Lieutenant Marjoriee paced the length of her office. She stepped swiftly, turning on a dime before each wall to continue moving without even the briefest pause. Her blonde hair, pale enough it almost appeared white, swished against her pointed ear with each abrupt turn.

  She wore it in the traditional, asymmetrical style popular among female Elkiir—short on one side, long enough to brush against her shoulder on the other. Like all the other soldiers who bore the same cut, she wore it as tribute to Evendel’s first king. It was used less as a real show of respect, more as a way of clutching at even a fraction of the power and authority of the First Blade, as if simply mimicking her appearance might make someone stronger.

  Marjoriee wasn’t any different than the rank and file soldiers, at least in that regard. She held the same reverence for the First Blade as they did. She cut her hair for the same reasons. She’d grown up with the same fantasies of rising the ranks and claiming the crown. She’d experienced the same world-shattering shock when she saw firsthand just how strong the current king, the Seventh Blade, was.

  No, Marjoriee did not delude herself into thinking she was in any way different than her subordinates or her peers. They were all cut from the same cloth. She was a great deal stronger than the average soldier, that much she understood, but that meant little; strength was but one of the qualities demanded of a king, and others could surpass her at any time; several had.

  Her strength—and more than that, her rank—were things she attributed more to luck than anything else. Her parents had chosen a good school. She’d wound up a rival to the woman who was now high general, even if that rivalry was one-sided. And now, she’d been blessed with the opportunity of a lifetime—a trial granted by the king himself.

  King Eruvius Elliana: “Quell the Scurvysands with as few casualties as possible.”

  His words had been simple, but his trials always were. The Seventh Blade was a cunning man; his trials went deeper than the words themselves. Even the fact that it was a trial at all went unspoken; it had been delivered as simple orders, but Marjoriee—and everyone else, for that matter—knew she was being tested.

  It went without saying that she should win with as few losses as possible. Anyone who didn’t understand such a simple concept would never reach the rank of lieutenant. What, then, was the deeper meaning? She could think of only one—that she was to minimize casualties not just among her own men, but among the pirates as well. The idea made sense to her, at least; if they were to conquest Avek Tirion, it would be of little use to them if all its people were in the grave. Of course, Marjoriee also disliked killing as much as anyone else, even if the pirates had attacked her nation first.

  It still felt surreal to her. Evendel had enjoyed an era of peace under King Elliana’s reign, even beginning to nurture friendly relations with the people of Avek Tirion. Then they bombed Raes unprovoked; it was perhaps the single worst tragedy to befall her nation in her entire lifetime, and it was an affront Evendel would not soon forgive.

  It would have been natural for the king himself to lead the charge; if not him, the high general, or either of the other generals. It was a conflict of great import, after all.

  Instead, the task was handed down to her—a mere lieutenant in charge of conquering another nation. It baffled her as much as the rest of the nation. Had anyone but the Seventh Blade given the order, they would’ve been ousted immediately; it was given by the Seventh Blade, however, so the nation at large reluctantly agreed that it must be the correct decision.

  Marjoriee still had doubts herself on that front, but she had no intention of backing down. The king himself had granted her this opportunity; it would reflect poorly on him if she failed or refused the call. She would not be the sole tarnish on the record of the Perfect King.

  So she had decided, but things really weren’t going her way.

  Her strategy had been straightforward. She could assault Heapwatch at any time, but that would be a bloody battle for both sides; instead, she blockaded the island’s main trade routes and engaged the pirates in a war of attrition. Capturing scouts, luring away defectors, taking out officers—she deconstructed their forces, piece by piece, with an almost surgical precision. Once Heapwatch was sufficiently weakened, she would march a large force on it and force it to surrender.

  The same strategy could be repeated for Avek Tirion. It would have less leverage without Heapwatch as a bulwark. Her king had a high opinion of Sunset—or he had, before the attack on Raes—so she hoped he would see reason and avoid a pointless last stand. He would be the last major obstacle to her conquest, what with the power he wielded and the respect he commanded.

  At least, he should’ve been. It was clear now that there was another factor standing against her—an unknown. One of her operations had been thwarted; she’d succeeded in killing one officer and capturing a defector, but she lost two soldiers and a tamed monster in the process. That was nothing short of a monumental failure.

  Somehow, the pirates had realized her strategy and called reinforcements. She’d been forced to pull her forces back, lest they suffer further losses. It was frustrating, accepting a defeat like that, but it was only one of dozens of battles; not even the Perfect King had a truly perfect record when it came to individual military operations.

  Then came the reports. The monster handler was alive, which was good, but every other piece of information got progressively worse. The pirates were harboring a strange group—Humans and a friendly Mimic that had escaped the Heap. The sheer insanity of both of those concepts had her quadruple-checking the page. Humans weren’t extinct!? Mimics could be tamed!?

  It was absurd. What was she meant to do with information like that? Either would be an earth-shattering revelation on its own. No, they would throw things into far too much disarray; she had to ensure that knowledge did not escape her inner circle until she had complete control of the situation.

  Naturally, things got worse. The pirates weren’t just harboring Humans—they were planning something, something big, and the Humans were involved. The next report came before long. They intended to recruit a Druid and use its healing magic to turn the tides.

  This was something Marjoriee could not allow to pass. A single Druid’s magic could only do so much, and certainly not enough to actually turn the tide; no, the true danger was far worse. If they succeeded, the pirates would have a false hope to cling to. They would continue to fight, falsely believing that they could win, and Marjoriee would be forced to kill even more of them.

  No. No, no, no, she could not let that happen. This was exactly what the king’s trial was all about. It was up to her to solve this problem. It was simple, really—she just had to prevent this mission of theirs from even starting. She had a legion of Volundr on standby for the eventual confrontation with Avek Tirion; she could use them. It would be bloody, necessitating she kill some of Avek Tirion’s sentries, but she could send the mechs in covertly and destroy their ships. No ship, no mission; easy. The Volundr would likely die or get captured in the process, but all in all it was much preferable to allowing their mission to succeed. A bloody path it undeniably was, but it was still the least bloody.

  And yet.

  And yet, and yet, and yet—she took a deep breath, forcing herself to calm before the grinding of her teeth could cause her to bleed. She needed to muster up her best composure. She had a very important meeting coming up.

  ???: “Lieutenant?”

  A voice called out from the side—a short Cheshire woman. Like all of her race, her hair was a dark shade of magenta striped with splotches of inky black. Two catlike ears sat atop her head, a long, bushy tail like a raccoon’s—sporting the same coloration as her hair—swaying behind her. Ami, Marjoriee’s personal bodyguard and assistant, was dressed in uniform, wearing a pensive expression.

  She cleared her throat before answering. “Yes, Ami?”

  Ami: “General Formes did not send a delegate. He has arrived to personally discuss the attack.”

  Marjoriee froze. “He’s here already?”

  Ami: “Yes, ma’am.” She frowned, no doubt reading Marjoriee’s expression the way she always did. “Should we make him wait?”

  Marjoriee sighed and shook her head. “No, it wouldn’t do to disrespect my superior, even if he is a rat bastard. Let’s get this over with.”

  Ami: “Your abhorrence is showing.”

  Marjoriee: “I know.” She took a deep breath, in and out. “Am I presentable now?”

  Ami: “I think you’re cute even when you’re angry, ma’am.~” She winked up at Marjoriee, who replied only with a flat glare. “Sorry, sorry. You look fine.”

  Marjoriee: “Ami, you do know it is considered improper to flirt with your superior officer?”

  Ami: “Just as well as you know it is improper to call your superior officer a ‘rat bastard’.” She winked again before turning to leave. “I’ll let him in.”

  Marjoriee watched her go, focusing on her breathing as she steeled herself. A couple minutes later, Ami returned, followed by General Formes himself.

  This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it

  The Crone sidled into her office, carefully maneuvering his too-long talons through the doorway. His rounded body was enveloped in neat rows of brown and grey feathers, all propped up on two stilt-thin keratin legs. His four-taloned feet clicked against the floor with metallic chimes, the abnormally long toes covering a larger wingspan than the rest of his body.

  The only skin not covered in feathers was his face, small and square with a short, rounded beak and two wide, sharp eyes, a vicious gleam in their orange sclera. A pair of glasses with large, round lenses sat precariously on his beak; he raised a wing to adjust them as he stopped a ways in front of Marjoriee, maneuvering the feathers at the tip of his wing as though they were fingers. He wore no clothes, besides a white sash bearing his insignia; his thick feathers cloaked him in their place.

  Formes: “Good afternoon, Lieutenant. Your missive seemed quite urgent. Is your conquest going poorly?” His voice was sly, crinkled in the way a wise elder’s might be, though Marjoriee hadn’t a clue how old he was. He couldn’t smile with a beak, but his tone made it seem he was always sneering. “Interested in passing the task along to your superior, perhaps?”

  Marjoriee: “As before, I must refuse. King Elliana chose me for this task, and I intend to see it through.”

  Formes: “Lamentable. Why, then, have you called me here?” He peered down at his wing with a disinterested gaze, flexing and studying his feathers.

  Marjoriee: “If you read my missive, you should know. This morning, I coordinated an assault on Avek Tirion.”

  Formes: “Indeed you did. I am quite surprised to hear that you finally ordered a direct attack after months of meandering.”

  She took a deep breath. She knew he was trying to get a rise out of her. How such an immature man had risen to the rank of general, she had no clue. “It was not a direct attack. We intended to disable their ships without a direct confrontation.”

  Formes: “Mmh, you did? And what became of that strategy?”

  Marjoriee: “Such games do not befit a man of your station, General. Did you read my missive or not?” She couldn’t hide the venom in her tone.

  Formes: “Why, of course I did. You should not think so little of your superiors, Lieutenant. Rogue actors sabotaged your mission, yes?”

  Marjoriee: “These ‘rogue actors’ were soldiers from among your ranks.”

  Formes: “What exactly do you mean to imply, Lieutenant? As you said, the king entrusted this task to you; I am duty-bound not to interfere.” He adjusted his glasses. “An investigation is underway on my end already. Those soldiers were fanatics, desperate to get back at the pirates. They acted under nobody’s orders—certainly not mine.”

  And yet they slipped past Avek Tirion’s naval defenses and attacked exactly when my operation was about to start. “Most of them are dead, now; the few that lived were captured, along with what remained of their ships. Thanks to their intervention, my operation failed.”

  Formes: “It did, did it? Quite lamentable indeed, though I struggle to imagine how additional forces could have caused you to fail.”

  Was he being dense on purpose? No, she knew he was. “Their attack alerted the pirates to our presence far sooner than anticipated. The mercenaries were forced to engage Sunset and other pirate forces, and they were overwhelmed before they could accomplish their objective.”

  Formes: “I see. Pray tell, what exactly did you hope to accomplish by sabotaging their port?”

  Marjoriee: “That is classified information, sir. I am afraid I can’t tell you.”

  Formes: “Is that so?”

  Marjoriee: “I apologize for holding such a brief meeting when you came all this way to meet personally, but I am afraid I must return to the situation at hand.”

  Formes: “Oh, I understand completely. Do let me know if you require my assistance.” He gave a slight bow.

  She had to hold back from scowling. “Keep me updated on the results of your investigation. And do try to ensure more of your men don’t go rogue.”

  Formes: “Of course, of course. Good day to you, Lieutenant.” He turned and sauntered over to the door, where Ami let him leave—and locked the door behind him.

  Marjoriee stood for a moment, basking in the cool silence of the room. Then she made for her desk and practically collapsed into her chair with a sigh. “Ami?”

  The girl scanned the room as she approached the desk, her eyes glowing a bright pink. “No spies. His bodyguard was with him the whole time, invisible, but he left.” Her eyes returned to normal as she reached the desk.

  Marjoriee: “Thank you.” She sank into her chair. “Did you send word to Captain Beihart?”

  Ami: “Already done, ma’am. He and Gildern are on their way to intercept the pirates.” She smiled, her ears flicking as she looked Marjoriee up and down. Without another word she moved behind Marjoriee and grasped her shoulders.

  Marjoriee: “Always a step ahead.” She sighed, letting her tension melt away at the warmth of Ami’s hands. “Giving your superior officer a massage is definitely improper.”

  Ami: “Is that an order to stop?~”

  Marjoriee: “No. Do your thing.” She couldn’t help but smile as Ami redoubled her efforts. She swore she could hear the girl purring. “You’re a real lifesaver.”

  Ami giggled. “See, trying to be ‘proper’ all the time will just get you wound up. Gotta loosen up to stay in best form. All the top officers know that.”

  Marjoriee: “Do they really?” She found it hard to imagine General Formes doing any of the things she did with Ami; the thought made her shudder.

  Ami: “Of course! I hear High General Elliana does wa~y more intimate stuff with her assistant.”

  Marjoriee: “You shouldn’t spread such uncouth rumors about your superiors. Especially not Kyrie.”

  Ami: “Not even if they’re true?”

  Marjoriee snorted. “Please. What’s your source for these ‘verified’ rumors?”

  Ami paused, dragging out a singsongy “Hmm~” before finally leaning in to give her answer. “Why, High Corporal Amali themself, of course.”

  Marjoriee stifled a laugh. That Corporal Amali would spread rumors about their own relationships did not surprise her at all. As to whether there was any truth to those rumors… she could easily see it going either way.

  Ah. “Don’t think your gossip is enough to distract me. We have work to do.”

  Ami: “Why, I would never.” She stepped to the side of the desk with a wink. “What’s next on the agenda?”

  Marjoriee: “We need to prepare for further sabotage by Formes. I won’t allow him to jeopardize our operations.”

  Ami: “Convinced he really is at fault?”

  Marjoriee: “I don’t have any proof I could bring to Kyrie or the king, but I can’t see it being anything else.”

  Those 'rogue actors’ had moved with far too much precision to be anything but intentional sabotage, and no other culprit made as much sense as him. That he’d come personally instead of sending a delegate was also suspicious; she could only guess he’d personally given the orders to those soldiers.

  They were dead now. He’d sent them on a suicide mission; now two dozen good, loyal soldiers were corpses in Avek Tirion’s bay. And for what? What had he possibly gained by sabotaging her? What was his motivation in all of this? Just petty jealousy that she’d been put in charge instead of him?

  No, it had to be more than that. A person ruled by such base impulses would never achieve the rank of general in Evendel, nor hold it as long as Formes had. He was a sly, conniving man. He surely had something greater to gain from this. She just needed to figure out what.

  Marjoriee: “Any news from the trackers on the mainland?”

  Ami: “They’ve kept in touch, but no progress. Seems that Dryad is more slippery than expected.”

  Marjoriee: “She is most likely related to their plans. If they manage to reach the mainland, we can’t allow them to make contact with her.” She rapped her fingers against the desk. “We may have use of Formes yet. As a general, he has access to military resources I do not—and he’s under orders to cooperate with me, even if he’s attempting sabotage. He can’t refuse a reasonable request.”

  She stood, making briskly for the door as she continued, “I wish I’d thought of it while he was still here, but no matter. Let’s catch him before he gets too far.”

  Ami strode beside her. “What exactly do you plan to ask him?”

  Marjoriee: “We’re going to borrow one of his elite contractors. If my men can’t catch that Dryad, Deadlock will.”

  Ami’s shock showed only in a slight widening of her eyes. “Understood.”

  Why had the king entrusted this task to her, of all people? Marjoriee had spent countless hours wondering over that question. She did not possess the overwhelming power of King Elliana. She didn’t possess the flawless track record of Kyrie. She didn’t possess the connections and cunning of General Formes, even.

  So many people should have been better suited to such an important task, so why her? Because she happened to know Kyrie? She did not think the Perfect King would be susceptible to nepotism.

  There must be something. She couldn’t fathom what it was, but the king had decided she was the best person for the job, and she couldn’t imagine him being wrong. Whatever the case, she would put everything she had into proving him correct.

  She would stop the pirates from reaching the mainland.

  She would capture the first Humans sighted in nearly a thousand years.

  She would bring their Dryad correspondent to justice.

  She would outmaneuver General Formes’s sabotage.

  She would make her king proud.

  Muttering such affirmations under her breath, she marched out of her office.

  ...it was common knowledge that Dryads walked the path of righteousness, seeking to preserve life wherever possible. She was quite confident that she, on behalf of all of Evendel, was in the right. She was exacting justice on the criminals who had decided to wage war against her country. She was trying to end the war as quickly and as bloodlessly as possible. She had to be right.

  Why, then, was a Dryad siding with her enemies?

  She shivered, casting the thought aside for now.

  Chapter Glossary:

  Lieutenant Marjoriee - (Pronounced mar-jer-ee) The Evendelian officer in charge of the campaign against the Scurvysands. Was hand-picked for the task by the king.

  | Ami - Marjoriee's Cheshire assistant. An expert in appropriate workplace conduct.

  | General Formes - A Crone and one of Evendel's generals. A conniving man with unclear motivations. Marjoriee hates his guts.

  | King Eruvius Elliana - The current king of Evendel. Also called the Perfect King and the Seventh Blade.

  | High General Kyrie Elliana - (Pronounced keer-ee) The second-in-command of Evendel and daughter of the current king. Not a beneficiary of nepotism; she's genuinely just that good.

  | Beihart - A name that definitely won't come up a third time!

  | Gildern - Another name that definitely won't come up a third time!

  Cheshire - A race of beastfolk demihumans with the ability to turn invisible and to see things that are invisible. Most live in Evendel.

  | Crone - A race of owl-like demihumans with rounded bodies and massive, reinforced metallic feet.