The Greatest Sin [Progression Fantasy][Kingdom Building]-Chapter 559 – The Sweet Taste of Victory
We can talk of grandiosities, we can talk of ifs and buts, we can talk of whats and whys and hows but none of that changes what has just happened. Ladies and Gentlemen, if, after yesterday, anyone thinks that we have made a wrong choice in our joining of the Empire is a fool or is actively working to undermine our glorious Rilia. I will not lie to you, my brethren and my children, for the Empire brought us great wealth and great progress, but let us honestly say that there was always a shadow that the Empire has brought with it.
That shadow is in the White Pantheon’s Victory in the Great War. All of us should acknowledge it for it has indeed happened. The Great War happened, Tartarus and Paraideisius joined the White Pantheon and overwhelmed the Empire in their first conflict. Let us not try to re-write history for everyone knows what has happened.
Yet now, we need to look towards the future. The Empire has not stalled the Epan economic crisis, it has utterly taken a sledgehammer and smashed it into pieces. We can all look at what happened and we can all say that we have indeed won. There is no economic argument to be made against Imperial intervention. Likewise, there is no moral argument. The cause for freedom and independence is a cause for what? So that we can starve in irrelevant poverty of our own choice rather than bear the fruit of an effort that spans continents? Independence is a grand ideal and Imperial cooperation is a grander ideal.
So now, we look at the one reason I would say is legitimate. That is the case of Imperial defeat once again. Tartarus has reared its head upon us and sent their greatest to try and harm our sacred Rilia. They sent the single greatest monstrosity they could bring to the field. A monstrosity that once required the combined effort of the Empire’s greatest Divinity to bring down.
A monstrosity that now was defeated by the combined might of Empire.
If the Empire without Divinity held, then what can an Empire with Divinity do?
- King Aimone’s Open Letter to Rilia
“Goddess Olephia!” Olephia ignored the man shouting at her as she kept on walking though Klavdiv. Flight here would be too destructive, she needed to find an old logistics truck and get a drive to the closest entrance out of this place. There was no reason to stop. She didn’t bother waiting for the man who called her name again. “Goddess Olephia! Wait!” The Goddess of Chaos kept on with her quick steps, although that did not deter the messenger behind her whatsoever. He just kept on sprinting.
A drive out of here and then an emergency flight with some plane into Rilia. It did not matter if the plane crashed or not. Her hands dove into her black coat and she pre-emptively dug out her notepad and pen in order to write down commands on what needed to be done:
Get me a car, prepare a plane. Under my, as a daughter of Arascus, authority.
There. That should be enough. How many men in the empire would deny the Emperor? “Goddess OLEPHIA!” The man screamed and Olephia took a deep breath. At this point then, it had to be important. Maybe it was another message from Iliyal?
Well, realistically, there were only two things it could be. A new location to to because the archdemon had crossed through the Imperial Frontline and a new point to prepare a counter-attack had been initiated, or Iliyal had held.
Without Divinity though, it was borderline impossible for the latter. Olephia stopped and turned as she waited for the man. Better safe than sorry frankly, right? She prepared a quick set of words on another paper in her notebook:
‘What have you stopped me for?’
The soldier, some high-ranking official by the marks of rank on the shoulder of his black uniform and on his cap, skidded to on the smoothed stone of a Klavdiv road as he came to a stop. The man rushed up to Olephia and began to hurl into an explanation without even saluting. It must have been important then. “Apologies Goddess, apologies truly but we just got news, you’re no longer needed up above.” Olephia raised an eyebrow and cracked a smile. The man started to explain. “They killed the Archdemon. They did it, we did it, the Empire did I mean. No help from Divines was needed. We did it.” Olephia felt her eyes grow wide as she stared at the man, unsure of whether she could belief just exactly what she was hearing. They killed an Archdemon? And without outside help?
Olephia wished she could speak praise or squeal in joy. Either would result in the destruction of Klavdiv though so Olephia wrote instead. There was precisely one word she would use for it, and one word alone:
‘Amazing.’
Saksma waved to everyone who was cheering in the market square of Hallin. There would be no work tomorrow. The Empire knew when to push, but it knew when to celebrate too.
Malam spun on her chair and tipped her head back as she sipped from the bottle. Amazing. Trendsetting. Downright marvellous. If this did not prove the unity her hatred of Tartarus could inspire, then she simply did not know. Helenna set her phone down on the table, the Goddesses had reconvened shortly after Iliyal informed them about what happened during the first battle in Southern Rilia. Kassandora be praised that she instilled work and duty for all her men because the half day advanced notice had given enough time for the narrative to be formed.
It was an Imperial Victory, the framing of the Raptors apotheosis was to be given in the background of them being Imperial God-Machines, the fleet was proof of Imperial industry, the military of Imperial power. The rockets that had been captured on video were the mark of successful Imperial engineering. And Iliyal Tremali himself was to be hailed as a man who embodied everything that the Empire aimed to emulate: Discipline and duty foremost. Helenna had seized the Imperial Bureau of Culture for a few hours, Malam the Imperial Bureau of Propaganda and they had been just fast enough to stop tails of lone heroics leaking out.
But now that everything had been set in place and Imperial identity was assured in the world, they had to go onto the second step of the cultural offensive: celebration. “National holiday.” Helenna said and Malam nodded.
“Not now, we can’t have one next year if there’s still war going on.” Malam and Helenna nodded.
“I know, I’m just saying. Did you have any ideas?”
“National holiday.” Malam said. It did fit. There was no reason as to why this event should not be celebrated. It was only the defeat of Tartarus, expelling them from this world or the slaying of their Emperor, Leonifer, that would be more a more glorious victory. Helenna raised an eyebrow and sipped her wine.
“Great.” She said.
“Call it a day of celebration either way.” Malam said. “Or do you think we’re jumping the buck?”
“We could always do it post-war.” Helenna said. “In Rilia though, they’ll want something to remember the event.”
“A statue?” Malam asked. She tipped her head back and swallowed a mouthful of vodka.
“Of what?”
“Naturally it should be Tremali.” Malam said with a sigh. “Elf is getting too big for his boots.”
“Are you doubting his loyalty?” Helenna asked.
“No.” Malam said. It had just been her own annoyance. “I’m jealous the spotlight is stolen from me.”
“How petty.” Helenna whispered, her hair turning black.
“Don’t pretend you’re any better.”
“I’m not.” Helenna said. “But it is what it is, we weren’t there. I don’t want a Tremali statue either. Rilians can do it themselves.”
“They probably will.” Malam said. “Agrita and Aimone both like him.”
“Then us?”
“Art piece?” Malam asked. She finally stopped spinning in her huge office chair. Her black eyes settled on Helenna. “Aren’t you supposed to be good at this?”
“Am I?” Helenna asked.
“Goddess of Love? Ever-inspiring? Ever-lovely?” Malam phrased it like questions, but they were just simple jabs.
Helenna thought for a moment, her hair turned into a shade of red. Her smile grew satisfied. She sipped the wine. “Do you want something grand?” And her voice curled as if stunned with itself.
“Grander the better.” Malam knew she was going to get something good immediately.
“Carve the scene into a mountain.”
There it was.
Premier General Abakwa lit up a cigar as he leaned back in his seat and closed his eyes, humming the tune of a song he enjoyed to himself. All doubts had been settled now. He had joined the winning team indeed.
Now that the focus of battle had passed, Iliyal could almost not believe it himself. He stared from the cliff at auxiliary ships which were used for keeping the Imperial fleet stocked up with ammunition lower their cranes into the water and grab at Tartarian rock and metal. The armour itself would need a full cohort of magicians to move and those fools had gotten to drinking too quickly for work to start today. Or, better yet, if Elassa came back then she would be able to give a better analysis on the weight.
If worst came to worst, then underwater welding crews would be sent in to start dismembering the demon’s armour into parts. That obviously had to be a new kind of metal if it managed to not even crack under a railgun shell. Shame that Iliyal had done not let it wander onto the ground. On one hand, it had been a bloodless victory. On the other, the ocean would have flooded into the castle on its back. That would be precious information lost too… Although, then again, killing it before landfall had drowned all the inhabitants of that fortress.
Iliyal sighed as he crossed his arms. Trade-offs here and trade-offs there. The battle had gone well anyway. The garrison divisions were all celebrating. Bonfires had been lit, men were dancing and singing. Bottles of fine wines had been brought out along with trucks that were grilling food. Iliyal could almost taste the fried burgers being made as the smells wafted to his location. A few of the mages, drunk were putting on a show with magic. Animals of water and fire crashed into each other to cheers. That was a breach of protocol but Iliyal had made sure to tell the officers that they could loose today.
He looked over at the almost sunken corpse of the Archdemon, twisted and fractured, and the rubble being pulled out of water by cranes. And then, finally, he let it go. Honestly, nothing would get done today. There was no point even trying.
Victory did taste sweet indeed.
General Sokolowski leaned back in his tent. The Atmospheric Sledgehammer, as people had begun to call the project amongst themselves, was a fool’s errand. It was something only a mad mind could dream up. Yet the thought of killing an Archdemon was just as mad. That had happened and it had worked. He returned to the map with a renewed vigour, now utterly confident of his own victory.
Kassandora re-watched the video on her phone once again. An Archdemon slain. She watched it again. An Archdemon slain by humanity. She watched it once again. An Archdemon slain by the humanity of Empire. And Kassandora once again re-wound the video. An Archdemon slain by the full might of the Imperial Military without any cheap tricks. No Olephia or Irinika or Anassa or Baalka. And again, she pushed it back to the start, wishing that she could call upon the tune of War’s Orchestra in her mind without tying down every soldier around her. An Archdemon slain by the full might of the Imperial Military she designed.
Kassandora licked her lips and took a deep breath, her lips twisted into a smile.
Kassandora looked up at the cold stone as the army marched by her. They had long since learned to march without her leading them. Treaded bulldozers dragged massive sleeping dragons from the first line of Holds deeper in. An Archdemon may have been defeated but that did not change the fact of what was happening underground. Baalka would be buying time through poisoning the stone but…
The plans, for once in her life, left Kassandora’s mind.
An Archdemon had been slain by a reproducible mechanism of Kassandora’s creation. What else was there to say? Iliyal had proven it. Of course it would be the elf. It could be none other than him. But now that a path had been forged, it could be repeated and recreated. Kassandora wanted those battle s already so that she could spend time analysing what had happened and preparing even better, more efficient strategies.
But for now, it did not matter. Kassandora felt her heart beat slightly quickened as she began to grow excited when she thought about the sheer potential of the monster she had built. Yet for now, she could only say one thing. Iliyal would not hear her, but it needed to be said now even if she would repeat it later. She turned south and looked up, her favourite elf was somewhere there, through leagues and leagues of stone and dirt and sea. “Iliyal, I’m proud of you.”
Chapter 559 – The Sweet Taste of Victory
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