Chương 93: Chapter Ninety Three

Eleanor paced the length of her private quarters, the soft thud of her boots against the deck the only sound in the room, besides the muffled thunder of combat in the distance. Oh, how she wanted to be on the bridge right now… Unfortunately, the bridge was far too public for what she suspected would be a delicate - and possibly ugly – exchange. So she waited. Impatiently. And still, it took nearly fifteen minutes for Faline New Haven's face to finally appear in the surface of her orb.

Perhaps because of that, Eleanor did not bother with any kind of pleasantries.

"We need to pull back," she said without preamble. Neither of them was stupid. She felt no need to explain why. Faline's expression barely shifted.

"We've been trying to force the South into a proper fight for months, and now you want us to flee?"

"Because it's a fight we're losing," Eleanor said, voice tight.

"Can't you see that?"

"We can still win," the elven duchess scoffed.

"And ruin ourselves in the process?"

"Is that cowardice I hear from you, Eleanor?" Faline's lip curled.

"I expected better of you." Eleanor rolled her eyes and did not dignify the accusation with a direct response.

"I've managed to make a deal with the princess. She's no more desire to see this fight through to its conclusion than me. Which means we have an opportunity to pull back, regroup, and hit them harder later."

"And how many cores would we be giving up in doing so?" Faline asked, shrewd as ever.

"Seventy percent," Elanor admitted.

"…You might as well suggest we slit our own throats now." Eleanor's gaze flicked briefly toward the door, and the guards she knew stood just beyond it.

"I could say the same for continuing to fight," she said quietly.

"At this point we are simply throwing more ships into a grinder."

"For now, yes," Faline admitted.

"But that will only remain the case until we reverse the conflict. Tyana maneuvered herself well, but she can't keep her current momentum. Eventually the rate she's killing our ships will be eclipsed by the number of reinforcements arriving."

"We can't be totally sure of that! What if they have another weapon like the Shriekers in reserve? And even if they don't, we can't afford the losses we'd take in attaining a win here." Eleanor's voice hardened.

"No. I am telling you now that my fleet is pulling back. I suggest you do the same if you don't want to be destroyed here." Faline stared at her for a long moment. When she finally spoke, her tone was almost conversational.

"And if I don't? If I continue to fight. And die. So will you. Just later. So the question now is whether you're willing to risk attaining a victory here or guaranteed defeat later?" Eleanor could almost not believe her ears. Almost. Because the words confirmed every quiet suspicion she had been trying to dismiss for weeks. This bullheaded refusal to accept reality was not natural.

She had never held a particularly high opinion of the New Haven duchess - an arrogant high elf with more pride than sense on her worst days - but Faline was not a fool. No one who successfully patrolled the stretch of sea between Lindholm and the mainland could afford to be. Not with constant probes by both Solite and Lunite forces under the thin guise of "pirates," and not with the real pirates who still occasionally tested the coast.

It had not been that long ago that Red Mary's fleet had attempted to push northward. Faline had seen the insane, disgraced noble off with more overwhelming force than cleverness, but she had not been foolish in doing so. No, Faline New Haven was no fool. … Though Eleanor couldn't help but wonder if she could still say the same for herself. A cold, sinking certainty settled in Eleanor's chest. She had been played. Either from the start, or somewhere down the line.

"…I assume you've made a deal with the Solites then?" she said at last. Faline didn't even twitch. She simply smirked.

"Oh? Well done. I guess you're not entirely the fool I thought you were. Even if you're catching on a little late in the game." She didn't even have the grace to deny it. …Then again, at this point, why would she need to?

"Fuck you, Faline," Eleanor hissed.

"Fuck you, you… traitor!" The other woman had the gall to shrug.

"I cannot tell you how little that means to me, coming from a fellow traitor."

"I never betrayed Lindholm!" Elanor spat.

"Didn't you?" Faline's voice was thick with amusement.

"Let us not kid ourselves, Eleanor. You can squawk about the Orcs and the Queen's reforms all you like, but at the end of the day you started this little rebellion because you wanted to. Because you wanted to be the hand guiding the throne. Because you're human and you don't like your betters telling you what to do." The elf leaned forward conversationally.

"And I don't blame you for that. Well I do, but not entirely. Because my ancestors made a mistake when they decided to put a collar on you and yours. They got lazy and decided that rather than continue to fight you, it was easier to make you into the guard dogs for Lindholm's few remaining orc holdouts." She leaned closer to the orb, eyes cold.

"They should have killed you all, as a warning to the rest of humanity, not to get ideas about acting above yourr station. Now, because of that mistake, Lindholm is going to fall." Elanor's lip curled.

"Elf."

"Quite." Faline smiled without warmth.

"And unfortunately, it seems history is going to repeat itself once more. Because despite my own strenuous objections, our soon-to-be liege lady wants to make the same mistake the line of Lindholm did when they first conquered this land." Eleanor's eyes widened.

"Empress Larine of the Solite Imperium has instructed me," Faline continued, "that at the moment of your discovery of our little arrangement, I am to extend you an offer."

"An offer?" Elanor asked carefully.

"One too good for you," Faline said bitterly.

"In return for your continued aid in paving the way for her invasion fleet - by continuing to savage the Royal Navy - she will allow you to continue ruling your little fiefdom once Lindholm changes hands."

"…House Blackstone would remain a noble house?" Elanor asked. Faline sighed as though the very concept offended her.

"Unfortunately, yes. The only Human noble house in all of the Solite Imperium. Void, the only 'free' Humans in all the Imperium. Honestly, you should be grateful." Elanor felt very little of that particular emotion.

"There's an armada coming?" she asked, slightly faintly.

"Of course? One more than sufficient to deal with whatever remains of the Royal Navy even if we lose here. A not inconsiderable investment on our new liege's part, but one she is certain will pay dividends in time. Last I heard, it will make landfall in New Haven in two months," Faline said with almost clinical detachment.

"…You should not have told me that," Elanor said slowly.

"I could warn Yelena. Whatever you may think of me… I am loyal to Lindholm." Faline dismissed the possibility with a wave of her hand.

"I doubt it. But even if you were? What choice do you really have here? Hope that by changing course at the last minute she will show you mercy?" The laugh that followed made her opinion of that idea perfectly clear. Eleanor unfortunately did not disagree. Mercy, in this context, would likely mean her family being stripped of their holdings and exiled rather than sent to the block. A kinder fate than some, but still an end.

"…You said House Blackstone would retain the rights to our lands?" Eleanor asked quietly.

"And our laws?" Faline's smile returned, slow and sharp, the expression of a woman who knew she had already won.

Tyana glanced at the clock mounted at the front of the bridge. The window she had given Eleanor was well and truly over. And she was almost glad. Because now she could send a message.

"Are our reports from our 'merchant' in the area still up to date?" she asked.

"Aye, ma'am," the communications officer replied.

"She claims she's looking at it now." Tyana's grin turned sharklike. Radios. When William had first introduced them, most of her officers had treated the devices as little more than a cheaper alternative to communication orbs. Tyana though? She'd seen something else entirely. Because they were cheap. And when something became cheap enough, entirely new applications opened up that would have been unthinkable with orb technology.

Applications like distributing the devices to trusted sailors, dressing those soldiers up as ordinary merchants, and then scattering them across territories currently occupied by the North. A quiet, deniable network of eyes and ears that could report in near real time without relying on the now-defunct wayfinder network. Essentially the sort of work her mother's guards used to do before their numbers got so thoroughly gutted. There was risk, of course. The devices could be captured and reverse-engineered.

Or worse, if the North managed to seize one of the devices intact, they'd be able to listen in on the South's own radio networks and act accordingly. Love this novel? Read it on Royal Road to ensure the author gets credit. Though Tyana considered both outcomes more or less inevitable with the rate at which Shards were being equipped with the devices. Sooner or later a craft would be brought down with its equipment still functional. Or it'd be stolen by the North's own spies.

Or simply sold to them by some peasant with sticky fingers and the correct ratio of tits to brains. Until that happened, though, she intended to extract every possible advantage from the otherworldly technologies that she could. … That has proven easier said than done, however, she thought with a small grimace. Ironically, the North had accidentally hindered her plan by destroying so many towns and villages during their advance.

The roads her agents relied upon had grown increasingly unsafe, and two of her radio teams had already been killed or captured by newly minted rising bandit populations. She could only hope that they'd managed to destroy the devices as instructed before they were captured or killed. … Still, even with those setbacks, her gamble was paying off now. She now knew exactly where the Brimstone was. A small carved model of the craft was now pinned on the map in front of her.

And not only do I know where you are; I know you're vulnerable, she thought with quiet glee. The carrier's shard complement had already committed to the nearby fighting or was in the process of rearming. Likewise, its airship escort had been reduced to just two vessels. Right now, the Blackstone flagship was as exposed as it had ever been.

"The Shriekers are ready?" Tyana asked.

"Aye. Exodite flight control reports all eight have been equipped with rockets, ma'am."

"Good." Perhaps some might argue that eight Super-Shards were excessive for a single target. Tyana disagreed. She wanted to send a message - one that words alone had failed to deliver. If the pleas of her ally failed to convince Faline New Haven she's beaten, well, perhaps the sudden death of that same ally will? She thought.

"Tell them to launch when ready," the princess ordered.

"Life will continue much as before," Faline continued.

"House Blackstone will continue to provide a tithe of orcs to our new rulers. Only now the question of slavery will be a moot one. Which was what you wanted, wasn't it? To keep orcs from rising to share your station? Well, that will most definitely not be an issue under our new empress." Eleanor stared at her.

"That's it?"

"For the most part," Faline said dismissively.

"There'll likely also be an increase in taxes. We'll have a new war to fund after all. Along with a similar tithe of ships, shards, and sailors for that same war effort. So we'll be pulled into the mainland war after all, Eleanor thought with little in the way of surprise. And House Blackstone will survive, but only as an even smaller piece on a much larger board.

"You said House Blackstone…"

"Yes? And?"

"What happens to the other humans on Lindholm?" Elanor asked quietly.

"I would have thought it obvious? Outside of your squalid little mountains, humans will fall under the rules of the Solite Empire. And they are rather explicit regarding the lesser races." Slavery. Orcs and humans alike. Ironically, only the dwarves would be spared.

"You can't expect me to accept that!" Elanor snarled.

"Can't I?" Faline's smile was thin.

"I'd say it's a better deal than you lot deserve. And what does it matter to you what happens to humans in the South? They aren't your people." Eleanor scowled. The words struck closer than she wanted to admit. The North had always held itself apart. Faline shrugged again.

"Ultimately though, I expect you to accept all this because you don't have a choice. You gambled on winning this war cleanly enough to avoid mainland intervention. As this battle is proving, you've lost on that front. Now I expect you to make a new choice based on your changed circumstances. And for that choice to be to take the only option that allows you and yours to survive." Eleanor studied the other woman for a long moment.

"And what do you get out of all of this?"

"The position of Archduchess over the Imperium's 'colonial holdings'. In short, Queen of Lindholm in everything but name." Faline smiled.

"Oh yes - and the satisfaction of seeing our nation finally put on the right course. I'm sure you can understand that. I wasn't lying when I said I abhorred the idea of the orcs being allowed to roam free. I simply omitted the part where I thought much the same of you humans." Eleanor should not have been surprised, truly. She should have seen this coming from the start. New Haven had never been quiet about its beliefs.

But instead of being suspicious, she had allowed herself to be blinded by the beliefs she thought they shared. A hatred of orcs and the Crown. Their strange alliance had felt natural because of that shared contempt. Uneasy and temporary, but more honest for it. She should have looked harder. She should have done a great many things. You bought into your own legend, old woman, she thought bitterly. You thought you could fight a war so perfectly that no one else would think to take advantage.

And now all of humanity would pay for it… The only question was how much of it she could still save. Faline wasn't wrong – even if she was a cunt. She had a choice in front of her. And it was no choice at all.

"I need a moment to think on your… offer," Elanor said.

"Take all the time you-" Faline began. Eleanor cut the link before the woman could finish – by virtue of kicking the thing off the table. She sagged into her chair, the weight of the last few minutes pressing down on her as she watched the thing roll about her cabin after it bounced off the wall. She was tempted. Truly tempted. Damn her. … But no matter what she might be called, she was no traitor. And there was a chance here - slim, bitter, and uncertain – but a chance all the same.

If Eleanor turned about and helped bring down New Haven, united what remained of the North with the Royal Navy and turned to face the Solite armada – well, while Eleanor knew her own life was now forfeit… Tala might survive. Void, I gambled once on slim odds, she thought. What's one more time… She might have been the biggest fool in a thousand years – but Eleanor Blackstone was no traitor. Everything she'd done was for humanity. This would be no different. … Assuming she could get all her captains to follow her.

Some of them hated orcs enough that Faline's words might find fertile ground if she spoke to them individually. Others would simply prioritize the survival of their own lives and titles above any larger principle. As much as she hated to admit it, loyalty was a finite resource, and she had already spent a great deal of it by making them come South in the first place. Of course, as she glanced at the clock on the wall, she cursed under her breath. It was now ten minutes past the agreed window with Tyana.

No doubt the royal would already be in the process of ramping up her attacks. I need to stop that. I need to stop everything, Eleanor thought as she stood up. She needed to orb the Princess at once - warn her, then somehow disentangle their fleets before they played any further into Faline's and the Solites' hands. New energy in her frame, she searched around for the discarded device, before cursing as she noticed it had rolled under her bunk.

"Fuck." Crouching down to try and pull it out, she paused as she caught a hint of… something. A noise. A high sort of high pitched keening. One that grew by the moment. Her eyes widened.

"Shit!" she hissed.

"No!" She had to warn Yelena about Faline and the Solites. She needed to get her to call off the attack! She had to! She lunged for the orb.

Tala sat in her quarters and stared down at the report in her hands. The words did not change no matter how many times she read them. Blackstone Keep was a total loss. Little remained but a burnt, collapsed ruin. The ancient stone that had given her family its name - walls that had stood for centuries - had been reduced to blackened rubble and twisted metal.

It had been destroyed only once before, during the original conquest of the North by the Elven Imperium, and had only been rebuilt when the Blackstones finally swore fealty to the line of Lindholm. Now it was gone again.

"And we will rebuild it," she told herself fiercely, banishing the melancholy before it could take root. She instead turned her attention to the force that had caused the destruction. The attackers had been orcs - there was no longer any doubt. They had arrived with three airships. Or Underships, if one wanted to be specific.

The silhouettes of the underwater craft had been unmistakable even at a distance, though the cowards had fled the moment her task force came into view, long before any real engagement could occur. And wasn't that worrying? The orcs shouldn't have had three airships. Not since the back of their rebellion was broken last year when the Brimstone saw its debut. Certainly, one ship had escaped that ambush – but where had the other two come from?

Payment from the Lunites for assistance in their attack against the capital? Or were the ships payment for this attack? Was the mainland power trying to use the orcs as a second catspaw after their first false-flag attack failed? Or maybe Yelena herself had somehow armed the orcs? She perhaps took a haul of captured underships south with her when she fled the capital? Had they spent the past few months traversing back up North underwater before being gifted to the orcs? …

It wouldn't have been a terrible idea if the objective was to split the North's focus. Short-sighed in the extreme though. Almost as soon as she had that thought, she snarled.

"William." Her ex-fiancee would be both short-sighted and petty enough to arm a bunch of monsters just to hurt her. He also likely had the best claims to the underships after the capital attack, given his Jellyfish was the ship to take most of them down. Indeed, the more she thought about it, the more it made sense to her. … Though knowing the origin of the attack did little to help her now.

She certainly couldn't confirm her hypothesis the usual way - ride out, find an orc village, and choke answers from whatever greenskin might possess them. Not with a task force of roughly equal strength to her own three-ship flotilla still lurking somewhere in the region. No, not equal, she thought. It would be four to three, if one counted the ship that should have been defending the keep. That vessel was gone too. Which meant it had likely been captured.

Likely reasonably intact too, given that wyvern riders preferred boarding actions when they could manage them. So yes, in all likelihood she was facing four ships. Sighing, Tala looked out one of her porthole windows toward the city that sat under the now ruined keep. At least she could still offer some aid to her people. She could see mages and sailors were moving through the streets to help with firefighting.

Though cold weather was also helping there, it would soon become a bitter enemy as night fell and those who'd lost homes needed shelter. Still, as bad as it was, preliminary reports from the city itself were both less terrible and worse than she had feared. For reasons she could not yet understand, the orcs had focused almost exclusively on targets of military value - armories, storehouses, the sky-docks, and the secondary airfields. Oh, there had been plenty of civilian deaths, of course.

Orcs rampaging had cut down many a woman who'd come out to defend their homes – and plenty who hadn't. But there was little evidence of deliberate, sustained efforts on that front. Evidenced by just how little cannon fire the city had taken. Perhaps they hope to saddle us with more mouths to feed by leaving the bulk of the population alive? She thought.

It was a tactic Tala's own mother had used more than once, though Eleanor Blackstone usually preferred to both maim the survivors and destroy dwellings first so the orcs would scatter and become a burden on neighboring communities. Tala shook her head. Trying to understand orcish strategy was often a waste of time. Looking over another report, she wasn't at all surprised to discover that nearly every slave pen in the city had been emptied. No doubt swelling her enemy's numbers.

Though not as badly as one might fear. The Duchy never kept large populations of captives on hand, in case of events just like this. Once taken, orcs were moved out of the territory as quickly as possible, usually by ship. Though on that front, many of the ships in the docks were now gone too – and those that weren't were resting on the bottom of the ocean floor, presenting a navigational hazard for any new ships that might hope to use the docks. A knock sounded at the door.

"Enter – and if it's another report, you may place it on the table with the rest before leaving," Tala said tiredly. Glancing up, Tala couldn't help but glumly note how pale the knight playing messenger was – which didn't bode well. Honestly though, she was numb to it at this point.

"Ma'am," the woman said, before hesitating as she sank to one knee.

"We've received a report from the South. It's about your mother." Ugh. That didn't bode well for the war there. Still, hopefully her mother had calmed some from their last interaction.

"Go ahead," she said. The knight paused before speaking.

"The Brimstone has been destroyed, ma'am. Your mother lost with her. As a result, Lady Faline has taken command of both fleets. She requests that you come south at your earliest convenience to ratify her command over our vessels with her." Tala blinked. Her mother was dead? No. She couldn't be. That… just wasn't possible.