Young Flame

Major General Bruno Veles Mudra considered himself a practical man. To him, a garden was a delicate balance of cultivation and culling; the weeds are removed to make way for fresh growth, and the flowers must be nourished and protected to reach their full potential. General Mudra applied this philosophy in all things; If one of his soldiers show potential, a wealth of opportunities for promotion and advancement would come their way. Should one of those soldiers exhibit incompetence or disloyalty, then only dismissal or execution awaited them.

Time had proven his philosophy true, during the last war — before the unification of the Empire — he had proven his value with incomparable achievements as a commander. After the war, he had been promoted to the rank of general, a feat nigh unheard of for those not of noble or military lineage. His new rank afforded him many new perks, not the least of which included command over an incomparable number of soldiers to before and that which he had been targeting for years, permission to use the inheritance ritual.

General Mudra sat behind his ornate wooden desk. The room was on the lowest floor of a building a few streets away from the central Continae of this captured city. He did not believe his enemies to have the capabilities to fire an artillery strike on the city, but he felt it prudent to prepare, regardless; It was always possible a partisan group had scavenged one of Henosis’ artillery. No, he was more comfortable operating his forward operating base from a less obvious position than the Continae, what good was extravagance, after all, when planning the deaths of thousands.

Currently, he was looking over the number of casualties from the war to this point: 28 135 confirmed dead and 66 124 presumed killed in action. The numbers were far better than estimates predicted when he launched this invasion. He could only thank his enemies for their lack of technological growth, their reliance on natural strength could only get the ursu so far.

He knew the limited deaths on his side were only because the New Vetus Council were holding their elites close to the chest. There was much work to be done to strangle out the resistance groups, but he had already taken control of the entire eastern half of New Vetus. It was almost unthinkable that they still hadn’t sent out their heavy hitters. Then again, the Staff Office had denied him the use of the Empire’s own elites in this coming fight, so he could hardly do anything but lament the selfishness of those holding power.

To make up for the lack of elites he had under his belt, he’d been forced to acquire some… alternative weapons, to counteract the enemy elites when they would eventually join the fight. Just the thought of the questionable project and the nut job researchers in charge of it was enough to boil his blood.

He sent his adjutant to bring the lead mage of the project for a report. The weapon, as they called it, had been nothing but a headache for him. Who would ever have thought relying on something that depended on external and uncontrollable factors would be a good idea? He continued to grumble in his seat while the mage was brought into his office.

The mage saluted before letting himself fall back at ease. “Reporting, General Mudra.”

The General scowled at the man’s disrespect. If the mage was one of his men, he’d be cleaning toilets for weeks for that show of negligence. Unfortunately, the man had too many connections within the Staff Office and punishing him would cause far more pain than it was worth later on.

“Colonel Heisenberg, I hope you have some good news for me. I am tiring of your failures.”

The grimace the lead researcher gave was quite telling. “Apologies, General. Another of the subjects damaged and escaped its enclosure; despite the guards' efforts to detain it, the subject was unfortunately killed.”

General Mudra was not happy with the news.

“Tell me, Colonel, how many subjects do we still have left?”

“T-Three, General,”

“And how many have we already lost?”

The Colonel gulped. “Eighteen, General.”

“So, having lost that many from the same issue, what have you done to prevent it?” The anger was bleeding into the General’s voice now.

“It’s not that easy. They burn through the cages of any material we can use. Unless you call some of the water mages back and have them rotate shifts to keep a cage up indefinitely, the only option is to find an áed child.”

“Watch yourself, Colonel.” General Mudra glowered at him. “And where do you suppose we should find a young áed? The last time our scouts found one, we lost an entire squad of mages. Even savages know to protect the next generation.”

Before the Colonel could reply, a quick series of knocks rapped on the General’s office door. The General’s adjutant entered the room upon receiving permission.

“General Mudra, we received intelligence from General Staff.”

“Classification level?” the general asked, glancing at Colonel Heisenberg standing across from him.

“Moderate, sir,” the adjutant said, remaining at attention.

“Then please.” He motioned for the adjutant to read.

“Morne has burnt to the ground.”

“Oh?” the General finds the city on the map spread over the table before him. The large city sits just south of the border with the Zadok Kingdom. “Huh, I never expected them to be so successful.”

Inciting the Zadok Kingdom into attacking the ursu was intended to be nothing other than a distraction for his enemies. Their people were rather hateful towards the ursu, having lost most of their land to them almost two hundred years ago.

At one point in time, the Zadok Kingdom had been a major power on the continent, but now they were little more than a shadow of their former glory. It had been easy getting them to believe they could retake the land from their usurpers.

To hear they’d burned down a city was surprising, far exceeding the expectations the General placed on their capabilities.

“No, General. The Zadok Kingdom army has yet to pass the border into New Vetus. The town didn’t burn because of their actions.”

“What? Then what did?”

“An intercepted report to Flehullen indicates an áed child imprisoned within one of the ursu ovens had been the cause. The child’s current location is unknown.” The adjutant announced.

“How convenient. I’m not one to believe in the whims of the gods, but it looks like Belobog has blessed us with an opportunity. Wouldn’t you agree Colonel?” General Mudra’s gaze bore into Heisenberg.

“Of course, General. I’ll organise it immediately.” The Colonel snapped off a quick salute and ran out the door.

General Mudra sighed as he leaned back in his chair. He wasn’t about to leave this entirely in the incapable hands of the Colonel.

“Major von Eben.” General Mudra addresses his adjutant. “Send Lieutenant von Bernhardi after whatever group Heisenberg organises. Tell him he must assure the capture of the áed and he has free rein to do so.”

“Understood, sir.” The adjutant saluted and marched out of the office.

His adjutant’s actions pleased General Mudra greatly; the man was always professional and remained disciplined at all times. It was rare for the nobility to be this well behaved. Most usually attempt minor rebellions to appease their pride, like dismissing themselves from attention without their superior officer’s permission. None of those that pushed the boundaries remained within his ranks long.

Soldiers from the military families were often his best subordinates; their parents trained them since childhood and didn’t have the same foolish tendencies of the nobility, despite the similar status. His favourite to train were those from backgrounds similar to his own; soldiers like blank canvases that he could paint into art, not blemished by prior preconceptions nor pride.

One of these soldiers had just entered his office. He stood at attention, awaiting the gaze of the General.

“Permission to speak, General Mudra.” The logistic officer requested once the General looked up from the documents neatly organised on his desk.

“Go ahead, Lieutenant,” He grunted, appreciating the results of good training.

“The ritual preparations are complete and ready for you at your earliest convenience, General,” the man said and remained at attention.

The improvements he had made in the training staff had definitely been beneficial to the overall discipline of his troops. Memories of a time when having noble blood was the only requirement to reach an officer's position bristled his anger. Times had changed, but not nearly enough. The armies had improved, but the Staff Office was still a cesspool of malignant nepotism.

General Mudra had been attempting to secure a position amongst their ranks for the past twenty years, but despite his extensive achievements, he’d been obstructed from promotion. It had been especially galling when a fellow colonel — at the time — advanced to Infantry General with a padded seat in the exclusive General Staff Office. The Colonel’s only achievement being the butchering of an invasion during the last war.

“It’s about damn time,” the General grouched. “Lead the way, Lieutenant.”

One would think that as the General leading this invasion, he would get priority usage of the Inheritance Ritual. But whenever the nobility was concerned, fairness was never a factor. Many of the Empire’s nobility had attached themselves to his invasion so they could get first pickings of the corpses. They come and take, but do they contribute to the war? Of course not!

The greed of the nobility was a poison that must be bled if the Empire had any future. If he had any hope of achieving that, he needed to create his own power. He needed his own strength to fight against the noble scourge that infested his Empire. That strength was here, amongst the nation of fools that rested on their laurels and yet so sure of their own strength.

Once he conquered Vetus, the Empire would be next. He could only hope the Emperor and Empress would concede the abolishment of nobility, he did not wish their eradication as well; re-establishing governance would be a far more arduous task, after all.

General Mudra followed the Lieutenant into a large warehouse at the edge of the city. Military presence guarded this area far tighter than even the forward operating base, the ritual and high nobility of enough import to cause such a disproportionate defensive force.

Upon entering the warehouse, the General blocked his nose as the horribly familiar scent of rotting corpses flooded the air. Laying eyes on the mountain of corpses — both ursu and albanic — would horrify anyone not used to such a sight. Thousands of the dead piled in the centre of the warehouse, surrounded by inscriptions carved into the stone underneath.

He sat within a small circle of glowing white lines adjacent to the mound of corpses, he waited for the ritual to start.

Not long did he wait. The technician started the process, causing the inscriptions to light up a bright white. A few moments of silence lingered before a soft humming reverberated through the warehouse. The glow of the inscriptions surrounding both the mountain of corpses and the General increased in intensity. It was bright enough to see the patterns of the inscription beneath the blood coating the floor. The inscriptions tinted by the blood lit the walls in an eerie crimson.

The surrounding hum increased in intensity until he felt it in his bones. Deep thrums pounded away throughout his body as he sat and waited with clenched teeth. The sound of the hum faded, but the vibration remained. His body felt like it would rattle itself to dust if he didn’t fight to remain still. His eyes ached and his vision became blurry, but that didn’t prevent him from watching as the first true indication of the ritual enacted itself.

The many bodies before him began disintegrating. It happened slowly, so very slowly. But there were flakes of skin and flesh floating off many of the outer bodies, separated from the corpses and rose as if gravity did not exist. They broke up into smaller and smaller pieces the further from the bodies the flakes travelled.

Four hours passed like this, with a constant vibration shaking his body and the corpses fragmenting before him. When no bodies remained and all blood had disappeared from the floor, the vibration of the ritual cut off, taking the glow of the inscriptions along with it.

General Mudra gasped as the ritual stopped. It was as if he hadn’t slept in weeks; the ritual sapped every bit of strength he had, leaving him as an exhausted wreck.

He rose to his feet and looked over the floor of the warehouse. There was not a speck of dust to be seen; every remnant of the corpses taken from the battlefield gone, as if they had never existed. He strode towards the exit of the warehouse, tired and in need of a long rest, but contrarily, he felt more awake than ever.

Major General Bruno Veles Mudra marched down the street to his quarters. There were many things that must be done, but for now, he needed rest.