Death: Genesis

“I almost expected that you would swoop in and try to save me,” said Adara, running a hand through her hair. It was caked with blood, with a little fleck of flesh stuck just behind her slightly pointed ear. Her armor wasn’t much better off, and though it was high quality, it had been dented and cracked in multiple places. A giant bruise decorated half her face, and her eye had begun to swell shut. In short, she looked like she’d been in the fight of her life, an appearance that was at odds with the giant smile she wore.

“You’re perfectly capable of taking care of yourself,” Zeke replied. Indeed, he knew Adara well enough to know precisely how treating her as a damsel in distress would have worked out. He didn’t think she would actually attack him – especially in the middle of a battle – but he didn’t rule that possibility out, either. Whatever the case, she certainly wouldn’t have appreciated it. “I trust you in a fight as much as I trust anyone else.”

“Except Pudge.”

“Well, yeah. He’s…well, he’s Pudge. He’s built a bit differently than most. You’re not jealous, are you?” Zeke asked, glancing at the bearkin in question. Standing on the other side of a large square where they’d set up their post-battle operations, Pudge was just as covered in gore as Adara, though he had no injuries. Even if he had been hurt, there’d been enough time for him to recover. Changing the subject, Zeke asked, “Do you want me to take care of that bruise?”

She shook her head. “Maybe later. I want to feel it a little longer,” she said.

“What? Why?”

Shrugging, Adara answered, “I don’t know. I like the pain. It’s a good reminder to duck next time.”

Zeke wanted to argue that there was no reason for her to continue to suffer, but he stopped himself short. Adara reacted poorly to any expression of his protective nature. Sure, she would endure it, but after the challenges she’d been forced to suffer as a half-breed Knight of Adontis, she’d learned to value her own independence. More than that, she’d also learned to hide any weakness. Otherwise, her enemies – of which there were quite a few in that corrupt and bigoted organization – would surely exploit them.

That kind of lesson was hard to unlearn, even when Zeke had so far endeavored to ensure that she felt safe in his company. So, as much as he wanted to help her, he held back. If she wanted it, she would ask.

“Did we lose many?” he asked.

“Less than you’d think,” Adara answered. “A few hundred kobolds, but they were weaker members of the clutch. Novices, really. This was the first battle for many of them. Of the veterans, only a dozen or so fell.”

“And the beastkin? The humans? Did we lose any centaurs?”

Adara went on to explain that the beastkin were predictably the hardest hit among the army, with hundreds falling in the battle. The humans, most of which were former Knights like Adara, hadn’t lost a single person, but a handful of centaurs had been killed.

By anyone’s measure, it was a resounding victory. They’d killed thousands of members of the Radiant Host. However, Zeke knew that without a few unique advantages, they’d have never won the battle. For one, the element of surprise had given them a distinct edge, allowing them to hit hard before anyone even knew they were there. On top of that, they’d benefited from completely bypassing the enemy’s defenses. Walls didn’t count for much when Zeke could summon an army in the center of the city.

But most impactful was Zeke’s intervention. If he hadn’t been there to deal with Callum Fris and his three companions, that group would have swept through the city, destroying the kobold army. Even elites like Silik, Pudge, and Adara couldn’t have stood against such a powerful opponent.

“That’s your role,” said Eveline within Zeke’s mind.

He suppressed a sigh. “I want them to be able to stand on their own,” he replied. “I can’t always be here.”

“It will be some time before they rise above their nature,” she pointed out. “The kobolds grow stronger, but even with the benefit of sapience, they’re not fundamentally stronger than they were beneath Min Ferilik. Higher average level, perhaps. But they are still limited by their base.”

“Silik isn’t,” Zeke argued.

“He is exceptional. There are a few others who have managed to claw their way free of the limitations imposed by their humble origins,” she said. “Kobolds are not strong creatures. In the wild, they are scavengers. Certainly, they can be a threat to the unprepared – all monsters can make that claim – but if you want them to truly grow, you need to address the fundamental weakness of their base.”

“The quest.”

“Just so,” Eveline agreed. “You need that Hall of Affinities. For your own development as well as the kobolds. Otherwise, they will only hold you back. They will become an anchor. They already are.”

Zeke wanted to argue, but he knew that there was at least some truth in her assessment. By the standards of the Eternal Realm, he’d cultivated a strong force. However, most of their victories had come via trickery, superior tactics, or Zeke’s personal intervention. Left on their own, they would have long since been wiped out.

And that wasn’t what he wanted.

The kobolds needed to be capable of standing on their own, or when they reached the next realm – or descended to a lower circle of Hell, as was the plan – they would become an extreme liability. Even Zeke didn’t consider himself strong enough to take that step, so the kobolds were so far away from that standard that it didn’t even bear considering.

“How do we do it, then?” he asked, looking around the city.

“Interrogate the survivors,” she suggested. “Find the most powerful treasures you can. Use those to complete the quest. That’s the only way they’ll grow strong enough to keep up with you.”

Zeke shook his head. “I’ve already got a lot on my plate,” he stated. Indeed, he’d just started a war with one of the most powerful militaries on the continent. The Radiant Host had the advantage of the Sun Goddess’ support and a half dozen other territories from which to draw resources. They had strong fighters, many of which were at or near the peak, and Zeke suspected that, in the future, he wouldn’t be able to repeat the tactics he’d used to take Moreth so quickly.

More than a few people had escaped the city, and it was an inevitability that they would find their way to someone important. After that, the secret to Zeke’s success would be exposed, and the Imperium would take steps to curtail those efforts.

No – he wouldn’t be able to take another city by simply sneaking in and summoning an army in his enemy’s midst. Instead, he’d need to take them by more conventional means, which would require sieges and large scale battles. It would not be easy. Nor would it be a short war.

“What’s wrong? We won,” said Adara, following Zeke’s gaze as he cast it around the city.

“This is just the beginning.”

“I know. That’s a good thing.”

“People are going to die, Adara. They already have,” he said.

“I’m not a child. I’m aware of how war works,” she countered with a frown. “The cause is just. Do you know how many slaves we freed by taking this city?”

“No. How many?”

“I don’t know. But there were thousands. Maybe tens of thousands. And a lot of them want to be part of this. They’ve been enslaved for generations, Zeke. It’s not just beastkin or non-humans, either. The Imperium doesn’t limit its atrocities by race. If you’re against them, you’re not worth anything,” she said. “Here. Follow me.”

She took his hand and guided him through the camp. He’d summoned the gate in the central square, but there were limitations on who they let into the tower. So, they’d established a temporary base of operations around the gate. Mixed into the groups of kobold soldiers were bearskin, elves, and even a few dwarves. But most of the people not belonging to his army were human.

And they were uniformly in poor shape. Some were starved. Others were wounded. Almost all were dirty – which didn’t make sense to Zeke.

As if reading his mind, Adara said, “The ones owned by the higher class didn’t survive.”

“Why?”

“They were killed by their owners,” she stated. “I don’t know why. A few resisted, but they were restrained by collars, so almost none of them made it.”

As they walked, he let that sink in. It wasn’t so different from sailors scuttling a ship so the enemy couldn’t take it. Or burning crops during a retreat. But they hadn’t simply destroyed goods or proprietary technology. They’d killed people.

“They’re just property,” Eveline pointed out. “In the Imperium, slaves aren’t people.”

Zeke ground his teeth, but after a few moments, he asked, “Where are you taking me, Adara?”

She answered, “You’ll see. Just come on.”

As they traversed the city, the aftermath of the battle became increasingly apparent. None of the damage was as extensive as that which was associated with his own fight against Callum Fris, but there were plenty of buildings that had been destroyed during the fighting. Many more had been so heavily damaged that they would likely need to be demolished.

Then there were the bodies.

Hundreds of Knights, soldiers, and other people loyal to the Imperium had been killed. Fortunately, Zeke didn’t see any of his people’s bodies. More than a few had died in the battle, but their remains had already been gathered and transported back to the tower, where they would be laid to rest.

For long minutes, Zeke was forced to witness the consequences of the battle he’d started. And though he was mostly inured to death and destruction, he was still human where it mattered. And he regretted the necessity that such widespread death had become so necessary.

It was one thing to engage in wholesale slaughter against monsters or the denizens of dungeons. There was little guilt associated with that. But when his enemies were people? He’d have had to be a true psychopath to remain unaffected.

Eventually, they reached an area that had once been a very affluent district populated by elaborate mansions that verged on being classified as palaces, complete with expansive estates with well-tended topiary. Of course, the heavy fighting had destroyed the beautiful gardens, felling trees and tearing the lawns to asunder. The huge buildings hadn’t escaped, either, and whole wings had been destroyed. Finally, corpses littered the district. Most had been heaped onto huge piles, but there were still plenty that had yet to be gathered.

“The fighting was thickest here,” Adara said. “They were strong, and even though they were unprepared, this is where we lost the most people.”

“I see.”

Even then, the ratio was very much in favor of Zeke’s army. “Why did you bring me here? I knew we took losses.”

“You’ll see.”

With that, Adara kept going until, at last, they reached a mostly intact building. There, Zeke saw hundreds of naked bodies. Most were female, but there were plenty of males present as well. Zeke looked a little closer, and he had to admit that, even in death, they were all quite attractive. The vast majority of the bodies belonged to elves, though there a couple of humans and even some beastkin in there.

“What is this?” he asked.

“This was the most exclusive brothel. All of these people were slaves, bred specifically for the purpose of giving pleasure to the more affluent members of the Imperium. The moment they realized the city was going to fall, they slaughtered every single one of these poor people,” Adara said. “From what I understand, most of them were kept intentionally ignorant. Some never saw the outside of that compound. All they knew was a life of –”

“I get it,” Zeke interrupted. He wanted to look away, but he refused to do so. He needed to see what his enemies would do, given half a chance. He needed to witness the expression of their twisted natures, to carve those images indelibly into his mind’s eye so that, even when things became difficult, his resolve would not waver. “Were there any survivors?”

“No.”

“Not even the people who…did this?”

“No.”

“Good.”

After that, Zeke and Adara stepped forward and helped to gather the bodies of the former slaves. They afforded them as much dignity as possible, but Zeke knew that it didn’t matter. The dead didn’t care. He needed to concern himself with the living.