Chương 241: Chapter 314 - Man in the Shadows

Grand Marshal Cearsia stared at the illusionary map. There were about ten arcanists keeping the illusion generator updated. Staff officers continued to deliver reports. Here and there, another brigade's position would be adjusted or red dots of light would appear to represent a new enemy position that had been identified. The blue glow of the Akanan army on the map resembled the ocean. It seemed the heretic's army, that thin line of scarlet, should be swept aside simply by its weight.

And yet, the vermin had burrowed into the ground and made themselves more of a nuisance than stone moles. There would be no quick breakthrough. There would be no easy encirclement. The only time Cearsia hadn't studied war in her life was when she studied arcanism, and even then she'd read books about old wars to take a break from her studies. Historically, armies adapted to innovations in warfare through bloody trial and error, only landing on the most effective strategies after months or years of fighting.

This enemy wasn't doing that. The tactics had been present from the very start of their push out from Urubandar, and there had been little to no adaptation. They had simply known how the Akanan army would attack, known Akanan army doctrine, and known even how to counter elements of the Akanan army that had been national secrets. Cearsia thought again of the letter she'd received before they'd finally dealt with the annoying ships that had been intercepting their communiques. She glanced toward the door.

Outside it and up the stairs, she'd probably still be able to see her. She was still floating up there in the sky. An omen of death. Cearsia only feared two people: her, and Liuan Var. It was becoming clear to her that Liuan Var had only told a partial truth. That she was the only true Prophet, but several other Saints had been blessed with partial visions, couldn't explain this. Saint Jherica and Saint Celen were both missing.

Liuan knew this, but Cearsia wasn't sure if Liuan knew that Cearsia's contacts had slipped her that information yet. And then there was Liuan's mysterious agent in Urubandar. The one who'd wormed his way into the collapsed structure that was the RID. The one who'd somehow brokered an agreement with Dawn's Peace. The one had Urubandar all set and ready for Akanan deployment. The one who kept changing his damn face.

Her own military intelligence was having trouble tracking him, and Cearsia didn't trust him, but when she'd broached the subject with the Prophet, Liuan had made it clear it was not a topic for discussion. No, something was wrong with all of this, but she couldn't discuss it with anyone. Prophet Liuan had true believers everywhere. Hells, she'd been one of them even a few weeks ago. Still, if she was right, then it didn't matter what doubts Cearsia had.

If the heretic prophet was really trying to weaponize the leylines, she had to die. Something was wrong, though. There was simply no way that she could hang in the sky like that all day. Even the dreadnoughts occasionally needed to land to resupply food, water, and ammunition. It was unnatural. As Cearsia glanced at the door again, it opened, and Liuan Var strode down. She was furious, Cearsia knew, even though she was trying to hide it.

"Why is our advance still being held up?" she asked, gesturing at the table.

"Sacred One. The Akanan Army is pushing forward as fast as is possible without support of the dreadnoughts and high-myr companies. There have been logistical problems from the delays of material from Akana—""Those delays will be corrected shortly. Need I remind you what is at stake?" Liuan interrupted. Cearsia, who had never much liked being interrupted by anyone, even her superior, clamped her jaw shut so she wouldn't say something she regretted.

"Prophet Liuan, we are well aware. However, there's a great deal of new recruits who have had minimal training and are having trouble advancing into fortified positions, especially given shell and foss shortages. Captains are also reporting infantry morale has been… impacted." That was a vast understatement. No one wanted to talk about what had happened to the Republic's Justice. The wreck of it was still smoldering on the battlefield. Salvage teams were repurposing the orichalcum.

There had been no survivors from either vessel.

"She's got her own mages generating an illusion of her above the battlefield, keeping it out of range of our longest range divination spells," Liuan snapped.

"Just like it took her best archmages working together and mass camouflage spell to pull off that ambush. Do not let the deceiver play with your mind." Cearsia kept her back stiff, waiting for orders. That Liuan felt a need to bring up the topic unprompted was a sign of her own doubts. Not reassuring. Liuan paced around the table, her adamantium cuirass glittering faintly with unnatural light.

"Two months. If we can't make a breakthrough by then, then the world is lost. We must take either one of the three Gates in Baracuel by then or destroy the device at Mayat Shadr."

"Sacred One, I am led to believe Mahatan also has a Gate we can target."

"No. There's a leyline confluence beneath the Setarab. There's one leyline south of Mahatan. As you've already seen, even the incomplete device can target a leyline to be redirected. And we wouldn't be able to cut off their supplies." Cearsia understood. They'd lose the remaining three dreadnoughts if they did that.

"We may have been able to move the bulk of our army into Baracuel before this offensive started, but that's no longer an option." Liuan frowned, her dark eyes faintly glowing.

"Explain that." The Grand Marshal hesitated. She didn't want to condescend to a Prophet.

"The Akanan army is spread across several hundred kilometers of front. Due to the inexperience of the new officers, an organized retreat would be a… challenge. It risks the enemy counterattacking, and the problem is made worse by the foss shortages." Liuan appeared to want her to continue, so she did.

"Then, upon a successful withdrawal, we would have to move the army by sea. As you know, the remnants of the Baracueli Navy have joined with the ships that were captured in Saising and Benansuo. There are also the… leviathans. It would be impossible to transport troops while this sea battle is ongoing. It may take some time to force an engagement there. The admirals can brief you on the details."

"What about cutting north along the coast up to Rambalda and then moving on Alkazaria?" Cearsia glanced at the Prophet to see if she had just made a joke. No, she appeared to be serious.

"Here on the Setarab, we can continue using the local farms and myrvite herds to supplement our food. A small force like Dawn's Peace may be able to live off the land of the western Persaman desert, but the food to supply an army of our size simply does not exist there. And the distance is… considerable." And there's the foss shortages I just mentioned, she thought, but didn't say. Liuan stared at the map for a long while. Cearsia went back to standing at attention.

Finally, the Prophet said, "Then we continue along the Setarab. We take Alatishad, and then we move to the east fork of the river. There, we can threaten to strike south down to the Jiandzhi Gate or Mayat Shadr. The false prophet will have to split her forces." Marshal Cearsia kept her face as passive as she could.

"If I may comment…?" Find this and other great novels on the author's preferred platform. Support original creators!

"You may."

"There are several historical treatises concerning the fall of the old Zhighuan Empire. In them, they refer to the Land of Spires not as the Jiandzhi, but as 'Mushinduay.'" Cearsia didn't deign to translate the term for Liuan. She knew the Prophet spoke Gulwenen, and she would know the term meant "tomb of armies."

"Noted," Liuan said coldly.

"The leviathans' movements are unprecedented. There are rumors that the false prophet can speak with them, and has offered Akanan blood to satiate them. Soldiers wonder if they are the only beasts who can hear the heretical whispers. There may be significant impacts to morale in addition to the dangers." It was obvious to anyone with eyes that the leviathans were somehow coordinating with the heretic prophet's forces. The initial attacks by the leviathans had been dismissed as an anomaly.

The official line continued to adhere to that. Cearsia knew she was treading dangerous ground with the Prophet, but she also knew she was difficult to replace. Akana Praediar was relying on her. She would serve her as best she could. At the very least, Liuan needed to understand what options weren't available to her. But how has she not seen those futures? she wondered. And again, Cearsia thought of the letter she'd gotten.

"We need intelligence on when the false prophet is in the sky and when it's an illusion. If we can see it, why isn't our long-range light-based divination working?" The Chief Divination Officer stepped forward.

"Sacred One, if we knew that, we could correct for it. Our teams are researching the issue with all haste." Cearsia considered whether Liuan wanted to hear about the insurgency in Urubandar. However, any time Dawn's Peace got brought up, whether it was their drain on Akanan logistics, the poor handling of the insurgency, or the ridiculous way they'd deployed north to deal with a growing bandit problem, Liuan had always dismissed it with, "I am aware of that issue and have accounted for it."

In Cearsia's opinion, the necromancer's legion occupying Urubandar was doing far more to hurt morale and ignite resistance than it was doing to crush it. Blasphemous necromancy aside, if those undead had been on the front lines, they could rapidly overwhelm enemy positions on the flanks, which would allow either an encirclement or a more rapid advance of the Akanan center as the heretical army was forced to withdraw. However, there continued to be things that could not be said to Prophet Liuan.

Cearsia thought of the letter again.

"Plan for an all-out assault through the center," Liuan finally said.

"We've been too cautious. Do remember that if high casualties are a concern, consider what kind of casualties the heretics will inflict if they seize control of the leylines with their blasphemous device." With that, she swept out of the room. Grand Marshal Cearsia examined the room, face impassive, but attempting to read the mood of her officers. Which ones could she count on? Which ones understood?

"As the Prophet has requested, begin assembling a new breakthrough plan. I will be in my quarters," she said.

"Yes, sir," came the response. In her mind, Cearsia was already tallying how many Akanans would die. Tens of thousands, at the very least. The marshal was no stranger to ordering people to their deaths, but the scale of it here disturbed her. In her quarters, she opened up her spellbook and cast a spell formulated specially by herself. This unlocked a special compartment in the desk, though the door was still hidden by solid wood. She used shape wood to fold that section up. Within the compartment were two letters.

She'd read the first letter enough; it was years old at this point. She felt the urge to read the second letter again. She kept telling herself she'd burn them, but she kept putting it off. The note was unsigned, but only a fool wouldn't know who it was from. Cearsia, You were lied to once, and you already know it. The Divine Weapon is no such thing; it is a Gate. Liuan had to admit that to you or the strategic situation would break down. However, they do not control the leylines, they merely modulate them.

My device in Mayat Shadr is for stopping Divir from falling. The leyline breach by Ferrabridge was caused by Akana's industries poisoning the leylines. When I was in the time loop, you killed me dozens of times. But I have already smote the irredeemable, and you were not among them. The plot to divide you was cruel, but served the interests of the great powers, so they did not hesitate. Medius Luspire still loves you. He will forgive you, if you have the strength to let him.

You will know what to do when the time is right. Marshal Cearsia carefully rolled up the letter, then placed it back in the secret compartment, then sealed the wood over again and engaged the glyph lock. Only when she had done that did she allow herself to sit, jaw clenched, staring at nothing. In her mind, she could see her: that figure with the silver eyes, robes billowing, radiating power. Nightmare, or savior? she wondered again. Or was it both? Cearsia had no problem taking the fate of nations into her hands.

The fate of all Enteria, though? A voice kept whispering in her head: what if you choose wrong?

Liuan sat in her cabin, lounging back, eyes fixed out the window. The sky was still cloudless, though the airship was moving into position to do long range bombardment of another fortification. The sound of artillery fire might be closer by or far away, but it boomed with all the regularity of the minute hand of a clock. You still don't have enough temporal anchors. If chthonic needles are your backup, like I suspect, you can't get enough of those, either. What's your plan, Mirian? Eventually, Mirian had to attack.

Would she try to ambush Ibrahim? Would she abandon the battlefield and aim for Celen or Jherica? Liuan had applied pressure at every angle. Yet Mirian was content to hang there in the sky, even as moonfall approached. A man entered with Liuan's midday meal and tea and set it on her desk. A warmth enchantment on the tray kept the freshly prepared meal at the perfect temperature, and the tea would be a scarce Zhighuan import that reminded her of her mother's smile. She looked at the meal with some disdain.

There was nothing wrong with it, she was just tired of Akanan military chefs' cooking. She sipped the tea. Annoyingly, Gabriel hadn't actually gotten his agents to report from Mayat Shadr. They'd ordered sabotage efforts, but had no idea if any of them had worked. Gabriel had reported the materials moving south from Falijmali to be half the normal amount, while the material moving out of Mahatan was two thirds the usual. She can't have completed it, either.

And she's been denied her best rune inscriber, since Ibrahim snagged the necromancer. The situation was still bothering her, though. How did they get so many Zhighuan soldiers here? We know they can't have come along the west coast of Persama, as Gabriel had that under his control. Sailing around the east is unthinkable—the storms and beasts there can destroy entire fleets. Did they really march them through the 'tomb of armies?' The casualties must have been immense. But how much material came north?

Liuan scribbled out several calculations of what she knew of Zhighuan factory output, as well as estimations of available labor. No matter how she did it, even with generous estimates, she couldn't make it work. Push conscription and production that hard and you'd get a revolt. She knew that from her own experiments in Akana. There's no way to get an army like this and complete the device. Is it a trick? But I've seen the temporal anchors in the dream; no illusion could replicate that. They're there.

What am I missing? Fatigue was creeping up on her, but she went through several of the letters she'd received from Akana. At least zephyr falcon communication had been restored, but the news wasn't good. More riots in Mercanton and Vadriach. The governor's mansion burned down in the Takoan city… and mass strikes in Ferrabridge? Cearsia had understated the problem with logistics. At least there were promising developments with Celen. The RID was hot on his tail.

The Prophet reached for another letter, but felt tired. Usually, she could push through exhaustion, but today she was having trouble keeping her eyes open. Her stomach grumbled, and she at last took a few bites of the meal before finishing her tea. The airship had finished its firing mission, and was slowly lowering in altitude and curving back further behind Akanan lines. There'd be no immediate danger—and someone would wake her if Mirian did attack. I haven't had a nap since the cycle started, she thought.

Liuan slumped in her chair. Wait… this isn't right… she thought. But it was like she was looking down a long tunnel. She heard the door open. One of the serving staff again with a pristine uniform, and two priests. Why the priests? And one of them had a grin on his face—an infuriating grin. She didn't recognize the face, but she recognized that fucking grin. Briefly, she embraced her focus and caught a glimpse of the bindings on the figures. Soul disguises, she thought.

She tried to cast, tried to reach for her spellbook with its runic cleansing spells, but darkness took her, and she slipped into unconsciousness.