Chương 232: Chapter 305 - Maneuvering

Ibrahim stood with the wall of fire to his back, already feeling annoyed. He had agreed to meet Gabriel in the dreamscape and the man was already late. Flames danced through the great void, a wall of annihilation, but he kept his eyes on the sun and the tiny star-like mote orbiting it, contemplating the mysteries of God. He had named this section of the dream the Prophet's Nightmare. Here, of all the places in the dream, symbols and pictures assembled to make two emotions: Despair— And resolution.

It was the second he contemplated, searching for yet another truth. The Prophet of God had given them this time for a reason. The others had squandered entire decades of it as of late, falling into lethargy—or conniving, as it had turned out. Idleness had tempted him, of course, but how could one prove resolution without temptation? He sat, legs crossed, floating in the void, feeling the lingering images and memories. They were beyond human understanding, a form of madness—and yet, the path to revelation.

A presence intruded. Ibrahim had half a mind to keep him waiting, but it would be better to get this over with.

"Interesting meeting spot," Gabriel's thoughts came, using the strange medium of thought and soul that the dreamscape demanded.

"Speak your offer," Ibrahim said. He had hoped the petty games of power had stopped decades ago, but of course, pretending the games were over had just been another game.

"Mirian can't win."

"That's not an offer." He felt a brief flare of annoyance. Here in the dream, Gabriel was worse at hiding his emotions.

"Yes it is, because if she's going to lose and you have no allies, then you can't hope to win. That pet necromancer of yours isn't going to change the equation." Liuan had offered an independent Persama. However, there was a problem with her offer: she had already agreed with Mirian's plan and betrayed it. What assurances did Ibrahim have that she wouldn't simply betray him when she was done?

"You both have squandered your word, so it is a worthless trade. And if you're here begging, it's because your power isn't enough." Gabriel's soul began to move back and forth through the dreamscape like he was pacing.

"No, Liuan has squandered her word. I'm not making the offer on her behalf. I'm not saying join her. I'm saying join me." Ibrahim sent amusement out, but said nothing.

"You're not acting on enough information. You're the best general of all of us—absolutely amazing what you can do when completely outnumbered with a bunch of fresh recruits—but all war has a political and economic component. So first, let's be clear on the political objective: Persama deserves to live again. No more fragmented principalities and royal pretenders. No more Baracueli governors crushing us all with their 'civilized' boot." The old dervish sent the feeling of a raised eyebrow.

"Since when did you become a Persaman reunionist?"

"Since the Mahatan Massacre."

"That's incompatible with your previous position."

"My position remains the same: keeping the political systems as stable as possible is best for everyone. Everywhere else is stable at the start of the cycle except Persama, so only Persama needs to change. You can already see the result of too much meddling. Mirian's assassination of the Akanan war faction changed nothing. When there's a power vacuum, someone just rises to take their place. The Akanan industrialists she killed? The guys under them just stepped up to run the companies. The dead marshals?

Replaced by the next in command. Even Zhuan would agree with me about how systems are more important than individuals, you know. Unfortunately for Mirian, the table was already set. The propaganda was ready. The populace was primed. The economic necessity pushed it forward. Liuan just sped things along exactly as they were always going to go. Mirian's 'peace' was never going to last.

I don't care how good Zhuan has gotten at upgrading the existing Zhighuan factories and building new ones, they simply can't compete with an already fully industrialized Akana—an Akana that was underutilizing its productive capacity, I might add."

"And what prevents Akana from ransacking Persama in future cycles when Mirian and her allies fall?" Gabriel stopped pacing and sent a grin.

"You and me. See, there's an economic and productive component to war too. I can cut all fossilized myrvite shipments on day one. Akana gets enough to stabilize the country, but not enough to invade. If they try anyways, you smash their armies. Without enough foss, they can't get the reinforcements they need." He gestured back at that tiny star that was Enteria.

"Can't happen this cycle, of course, Liuan already has the foss she needs. The fleet took a beating, but even now, hundreds of vessels are transporting her armies into position. Mirian can't fight in two places at once, and she'll exhaust herself before she can deal with armies that are this size." Fires bloomed around them as the dreamscape burned and reset in its own little cycle of destruction.

"If I accept your alliance, according to your framework, it becomes two Chosen versus three." Gabriel sent the feeling of a head shaking.

"You're still not dealing with the full picture. See, at first, I was taking the position you are right now. The scales have to be balanced to maintain a status quo. You're smart enough to know that a renewed Baracueli or Zhighuan empire is just as bloody as Akana taking over. Then we have to tip the scales in the other direction. But it wouldn't be two versus three if you joined me, it'd be four versus one. Jherica and Celen aren't willing participants here." Ibrahim's soul narrowed its gaze at the other Chosen.

"Speak plainly." He'd noticed the two becoming wary of Mirian even as Liuan and Mirian's rift had healed. A Chosen couldn't be manipulated like that, though. They couldn't be blackmailed. If it was soul manipulation, they would have seen it.

"The problem with Mirian is that she can't keep a secret. When she made that fancy armor of hers, she couldn't help but show it off from time to time. Sure, she never showed her peak myr rating to us, but she couldn't hide that it was nearing 200. She's always been an emotional creature, heart bleeding for Enteria even as she spills an equal weight of blood. It's what makes her machinations so easy to see.

But she's not the only Prophet that spent decades growing her power and investigating all the Labyrinth Vaults, and she's not the only one who found unique Elder artifacts that she bound to her. The thing is that Liuan does know how to hide her power. Except, she understands what Mirian doesn't. Personal power isn't enough. A big brute with a stick is still just one person, no matter how big the brute or how big the stick.

The scrawny mayor with a bunch of loyal guards has always been able to smash them, or civilization wouldn't exist." Ibrahim scoffed.

"I told you to speak plainly. It is a marvel that even after a century, you remain incapable of doing so." Gabriel's soul rolled its eyes.

"Fine. Liuan found an Elder artifact that can hide soul energy. She can make bindings that can't be detected. How? Fuck if I know. It's just as impossible as all the other things the Elder Gods can do. Though I have a theory. See, Enteria wasn't just home to the ones that won the Gods' War. Humanity is being offered two paths. Mirian, Zhuan, and Liuan are taking one—the path of domination. We're going to take the other path. The one the Ominian took."

"Then you are implying she is using mind control. I know there were some efforts at it in Baracuel, but they failed." The author's narrative has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

"Nah, it never stopped. Akana poached the best researchers of Project Flayer. It was still infantile when the cycles started, but it turns out a hundred years of research doesn't just build you a unified theory of arcane and soul magic and leyline regulator. If you research other things, you learn other things. Jherica was so busy dealing with Vadriach University they forgot that Akana has more research institutions than the rest of the world combined.

Mirian isn't the only one who used all the academics to unify separate fields. Propaganda, conditioning, memory, and rune effects can all be studied just as easily as leylines. And Liuan learned from how Mirian dealt with Troytin: if you're going to develop a capability, make sure you develop that capability in secret, and then when you deploy it, you deploy it in a way that it's too late to react to." Ibrahim contemplated this in silence before responding.

"How do you know this?"

"Because I always kept my eyes open. Look, the Ominian—or God—made sure to have experts in different capabilities. Zhuan for social research. Mirian for magic. You for your generalship. Me? I'm the intelligence guy. I never stopped spying on everyone. I saw what Liuan was doing and I got leverage on her. Liuan topples Mirian and Zhuan. We topple Liuan. Finally, the egomaniacs are out of the picture and the world quiets. Persama gets to be reborn. Then we can build the leyline regulator whenever the hells we want."

Ibrahim was silent again. He turned and faced away from the sun, towards the deep void. The dreamscape repeated, and the fire grew again. Finally, he said,"You have always been an excellent liar, Gabriel Arjen. However, it's obvious to me that you don't want peace and a renewed Persama. If that was always what you wanted, Mirian's faction demonstrated a viable path forward, and all you had to do was turn on Liuan. She would have been ambushed, and her anchor would have been removed in short order.

You are clearly playing us all against each other. So do you believe the Ominian only has sought a single Prophet? Or do you simply wish to revel in the pleasures of this poison immortality?" Gabriel's soul stilled. The emotions roiling about on the surface became muted.

"When the time is right, you'll be able to kill Liuan. For the good of Enteria, for the good of Persama, to protect your family—whatever your reason, I don't really care. Those soul bindings of hers just can't quite work on a soul as tough as yours or Mirian's and she knows it. Even that necromancer you dug up would have trouble messing with flows like that, hmm? By the way, what's with the cat? I haven't seen the cat before." Alarm flashed through Ibrahim's soul.

"Just remember, this isn't personal. This isn't the last cycle, so keep that temper of yours in check. Remember who your real enemy is. You know where to find my diplomats." Ibrahim immediately forced himself out of the dream.

"Assassins!" he called out. Immediately, he assumed the dual forms of the Dusk Waves and the Last Fires. He sprinted from the command tent where he'd entered the dream and towards the view of the coast that he knew his wife liked to watch sunsets from. She would have been having her meal there. He moved fast enough that a gale kicked up in his wake sending a poorly-staked tent flying. He was too late. Her neck was already carved open. Her eyes were dull reflections of the darkening sky. Grief flashed through him.

He'd fallen out of love with her because of the time loop, but it was the end of the cycles he needed to fall back in love with her. Once the loops were over, it would be a new world, one he couldn't predict. She would have free will again. He could love her again. Despair gripped him, then fury. Wildly, he looked around for the assassin. His nearby soldiers had drawn arms, and the whole camp was like an anthill had erupted. Then he saw Atrah Xidi approaching.

In the air next to the necromancer were two exsanguinated corpses which he levitated as casually as a cup of tea. The damned undead cat was sitting on his shoulder still.

"I believe these are the only two," he said, dropping them on the ground.

"They attempted to attack the hostages." Ibrahim signaled his commanders. The words came out of him automatically, bypassing his emotions.

"Identify these assassins. Find out how they got in and if there's any more." Then he knelt by his wife. His fury became numb. How many times had he watched her die? He was too used to it. Too used to knowing there would never be a world with her in it. He had cursed the Ominian, had cursed God—and yet, there was an inevitability to it, just as there was an inevitability to all death. There was a message in that, just as there were messages strewn throughout the dream.

For all his strength, he still wasn't strong enough to understand it.

"Bring her inside," Atrah Xidi said, gesturing at one of the nearby tents. Then, voice lower, "You know I can still save her." Ibrahim gaped at him. Then he stood back. Of course. How had he forgotten? The necromancer had brought back marusaurs to life when they'd first traveled through the Jiandzhi. The reason he hadn't been able to save his wife in most cycles was because the soul degraded after death. Several days was too late. But only minutes have passed.

Too far gone for Ibrahim's own healing magic—but not for the necromancer's.

"Please," he said. He carried her inside the tent. Ibrahim watched as dozens upon dozens of bindings reached out, pulling the soul back together. A complexity that he couldn't track. He watched as the blood went back into her body and the neck healed. It was magic on a technical level he had never been able to grasp. His wife coughed, and then breathed in. Ibrahim rushed to embrace her.

"It's okay. You're okay now." Atrah Xidi waited patiently until Ibrahim was done comforting her. Ibrahim knew all the best ways. She smiled up at him.

"Not… not even death can part us, can it?" she whispered. Ibrahim smiled back, but didn't say anything. He just wiped her tears away. He never had liked lying to her. When he had gone through his rituals of comfort, Ibrahim stood outside the tent with the arch-necromancer. The camp was still active, but quieting. His people were still investigating the breach of security, but he doubted they would find much. Gabriel was a bastard, but he did know infiltration.

No doubt, he'd spent years analyzing Ibrahim's security protocols in secret, just as he'd spied on all the others. His instinct was to hunt down Gabriel, but he found it unlikely he would be able to remove the rat's temporal anchor before he either squirmed away or killed himself to stay out of Ibrahim's reach. That none of the Prophets had tried to simply evade Mirian by suicide or manipulating their temporal anchors to speed their way to the next loop made Ibrahim cautious.

Mirian had assured them all she had some "method" to deal with that contingency too, but was she bluffing? He had found nothing when he investigated; despite what Gabriel had said, Mirian still kept some secrets. And he refused to remove his anchor until he was sure who would succeed. He would not leave Enteria's fate up to them. Especially now that Liuan and Gabriel had shown their true colors. Atrah Xidi stood patiently, waiting for Ibrahim to put his thoughts in order.

This is why he appreciated the necromancer; he understood that old age meant a lot of knowledge and thoughts to sort through. It was better to contemplate than to rush. He didn't doubt that Gabriel wanted to bring down Liuan alongside Mirian and the others. Perhaps he was telling the truth about Liuan's artifact. Certainly, he was hiding a capability of his own.

"He was right about one thing," Ibrahim said at last.

"Why do you have a cat?" Atah Xidi shrugged.

"Perhaps I didn't complete him in time in the previous cycles." Ibrahim kept his face passive, but scowled internally. He had recruited the necromancer only a few days later than when he had first learned how to do so. It was plausible.

"Why a cat?"

"I like cats," he said. When Ibrahim didn't reply, he added, "It seems your situation here has exceeded your gifts of Prophesy, Chosen. Do you want my advice?"

"Speak," he said.

"I can put a soul disguise on your wife. And anyone you assign to protect her. And the Castrella hostages, for that matter. There are plenty of places to hide them." Ibrahim nodded. Plenty of priests could detect such a binding, but he could ensure they went to a place where they were loyal to him. Many had witnessed his wife's death. None had witnessed her resurrection, though he'd have to trust some of his soldiers with the information.

"Then, if we do that, and if I understand the situation correctly, your enemy will think he's succeeded. You can act as if he did. Join them in Urubandar." He nodded again. Of all the Chosen, he was the best one to wrest control of Urubandar or Alaitshad from Gabriel.

"He wants my army that badly."

"You'll need me and my soldiers to have proper leverage among the coalition. Then, even as we reinforce their armies, we undermine them. If the Akanans have been leveling the charge of 'necromancy' against their enemies, it'll be interesting to see how they explain their change in doctrine. With your leverage, you can help dictate the pace of advance. The Unification War taught me quite a bit about how to wield an army ineffectually.

Require your force to be the rearguard, then have extensive fights against an ephemeral banditry. Continually encounter logistics problems. Claim you are changing up the command structure. Requisition Akanan logistical support for your own troops. Argue about strategy. You can even—""I am aware, necromancer," he said. Then, because he owed the man, he added, "Thank you." He stared out at the setting sun. It rankled him to even go near Gabriel after what he'd done.

However, his scouts had seen how many vessels had been moving down the coast to Urubandar, and had seen the size and capabilities of the army assembling there. Attacking out of rage would be foolish. Having his army alongside as an "ally" put him in the perfect position to tip the scales in whatever direction he chose. He had already consolidated his gains, and they were already seizing territory along the coast. Urubandar wasn't far.

"I want the hostages to come with us, though. Disguise them, but I want them by my side." Atrah Xidi bowed.

"As you will, Chosen."