Opal Ocean

From the diaries of Jocce Frotalis, the squire, 1286 YS

18.8.1286 – Ordinary day in Akol

This day I met some young fellows from Ratan. They serve as footmen in Count Jiiyo’s Batallion. I met them while delivering a message to the count. They were just lying in grass, playing some cards, said training had not began yet since they had only arrived. They were very keen to get on the action, said they’d seize half of the Northlands just by themselves. I told them Commander Hitilo is the one who takes Northlands if someone, but they just laughted, answering: “Oh. Is he gonna do it all by himself?” but luckily afterwards the paid respect to the Commander. We ate some roasted chicken together, they had plenty. Humorous people, made a lot of fun of soldiers from different provinces. They also said their midday prayers in a different way! Monk Frilla says that the Light has different kinds of followers, but that our way is the purest. He also says a lot more, but it is all complicated. Bless Light warfare is much more simple than theology!

I also met a rather strange noble while waiting for Commander Hitilo’s meeting to end. Said he was a messanger from the Council of the Sun. Introduced himself only as Imaginifer Qethon. He talked about bringing the Light to the Dark but was somewhat reserved – perhaps secretive? Perhaps it was only my imagination. He held an ornamented sceptre, decorated with the embles of the Council of the Sun and it was the most beautiful sceptre I had ever seen!

I spent my day mostly working: taking messages, supervising some training, writing letters the Commander recited, taking care of His equipment and seeing to all kinds of matters. For example, I fetched and unpacked certain objects he had ordered for the Day of Opal – that is the name of the official beginning of the campaign, as named by the Commander. It’s in about two-three weeks. I don’t get along with all the new aides the Commander has, but with most of them. Some of them are way too theoretical, some just too slow, but with most of them I could go to battle with.

The camp keeps on growing! There tents and temporary buildings as far as one can see from the ground! Soon there will be about 2 000 to 3 000 tents in the valley, meaning approximately 40 000 to 60 000 soldiers. Maybe I should check the exact amount from Major Totosh? I can’t even see all of the tents from down here, but we went up to the hills with the Commander this morning, and the “whole Opal ocean” as the Commander put it. All the colourful tents really look like an ocean.

Soon I need to rush for the evening brief and after that to rest.

An insignificant decision

Hiferon leaned over the huge blackoak table. The table was covered with maps. He never wasted time. The plans for the consolidation of his power could not wait. A lot was at stake.

A dreadful being he was – yet there was nothing frightening in him. Hiferon was relatively young, powerful and had no rush in him. He was as calm as a clear, starry sky. Perhaps this was the reason he was feared and respected amongst all who had met him – how could anyone lack worry completely? The green eyes of the warlord never glanced.

“What is it?” asked Hiferon in an informal, focused voice. “This priest was found hiding in a secret cellar in the gardens. He has his family with him… A follower Khalag! How do want him excecuted, greatest warlord?” replied Sessseko, one of the aides of Hiferons staff, commanding a purging patrol sent to sweept the palace of Khalag. This particular palace which had acted as the floor for several fights before Khalag’s death was enormous – it had been the ultimate center of dark cult power for centuries. Now, there was a different master.

Hiferon had at quick glance at the terrified group: a miserable old dark cleric, a young slave-wife – probably given as a pay for some petty deed – and three children, none over seven years old. The youngest did not yet know who to fear, and looked at Hiferon, eyes running wildly around the room. The little girl tried to grap his fathers cloak, but was quickly prevented by the horrified, pitiful man. The child knew not who to fear, but in a blink anyone with eyes not rotten could see she knew how to fear. Tiny tears slided down her cheek, the eyes were wet. They met the warlords endless green stare for a beat of the heart.

“DID I say I wanted them executed?” answered the warlord sounding like an ice blizzard. “O-o-of course not, you greatness,” hurried the aide to correct. “What do wish be done, master?” tried the aide again, after a while. He was trying to maintain his dignity in the akward situation. No one put words in the warlords mouth – although he had never punished anyone for speaking. Hiferon was as patient as the great hills of the North; it needed an earthquake to shake him.

“I want no reason for my enemies to blame me for pointless slaughtering. We need the clergy. You need to take the factions and the opinion of the masses into account at this point. And it’s a waste of resources: every pair of hands can be put to use in the mines and in the fields. Send him to the work camps. The family goes with him.” Hiferon ordered, as he was anxious to get back to his plans.

The aide was stunned. A man of that age to work? A cultist, who had done nothing but murmured and raped during his life to the work camps? Probably they would also survive! The close followers of the won adversary would survive. But the soldier said nothing. The prisoners were too horrified even to whimper.

The hall fell silent. Only the light breath of the warlord could be heard – if anyone had listened. The light of the torches danced on the wall, forming bizarre figures, melting away instantly.

During his life, Hiferon had ordered the death of tens of thousands. He knew death – where it came from and where it was headed. He knew horror – what it ate and who was its Lord.

It took minutes until the warlord could get back to his plans. He could not have cared less for the opinion of the factions of the masses. Or wasted resources at the mines or the fields. He could not have cared less. The eyes wet had met his.

The building blocks

An extract from Commander Hitilo’s letter to Duke Gumbhar, the ruler of the province of Casothiu, dated 28.7.1286:

“…furthermore, Your Excellency, You are to gather a force of minimum 6 700 of your finest footmen and 900 cavalry. Include all the necessary auxiliary personnel. Additional troops will be compensated in the division of the results of the campaign.  A military organisation is not required, for I shall compose the structure of the Opal Expedition Force once I have full knowledge of all the troops at my disposal. If by any means possible, Duke, send you’re finest middle officers with the force – they will be needed in this grand undertaking. I shall contact the highest officers myself. This is due to the…”

An extract from Commander Hitilo’s letter to High Count Jiiyo, the ruler of the province of Ratan, dated 29.7.1286:

“…and is meant to be ended at latest during the autumn of 1289, by the order of the High Council.

Know that haste is of the essence, Your Respectiveness. The troops from your province are to arrive here at Akol at the 10^th of Apoii and report to my Chief of Resources, Major Totosh. Quickly assemble the troops, equip them and train for a brief period and then send them to the assembly point. Deeper training will take place here and during the campaign.

Unfortunately, my time is also scarce at the moment, so…”

An extract from Commander Hitilo’s written order to his Chief of Weaponry and Supplies, dated 4.8.1286:

“…summing up to 13 522 lances. Meet with Major Totosh to estimate the need for water and other  nutritional supplies. Initially we begin with a light supply level, which must last from five to eight weeks. Use the same treasury prokura to pay for the food as with weaponry. Alongside this you are to…”

The wind blew warm on his face. Commander of Cavalry Hitilo, soon to lead one of the most massive military campaigns in centuries, stood alone at a green, high hill. He looked down at the yet empty valley of Akol, soon to be swarmed by what he had named the Opal Expedition Force. After hundreds of letters written and sent during the past few days, his wrists were sore. The last of the couriers should reach the provincial leaders this very day. Now he could only wait – and plan. The ocean of planning which lay awaiting seemed endless. This huge campaign could go wrong in a thousand ways. On the other hand, looking at size of the valley and imagening it full of tents with soldiers willing to go any distance, Axelo Hitilo had enough reason for confidence.

He was being given the pieces for the puzzle – he just had to solve it. Soon, the building blocks were at his hands.

Orders of the Council

From the diaries of Jocce Frotalis, the squire, 1286 YS

27.7.1286 – Orders to Commander of Cavalry Hitilo

Bishop Desmorende opened the door swiftly, as in a hurry. I saw him clearly pondering something when he approached Commander Axelo Hitilo. The young Cavalry Commander stood near a window, looking down at the valley behind the citadel. I made honour as the Bishop rushed in.

“Commander Hitilo, I have been authorized by the Council of the Sun to hand you your orders. The Council has discussed some serious matters considering the Northlands, and now I am to discuss our actions with you. I presume you have some information regarding the situation up north?” the Bishop started off quickly. He was obviously anxious to get the matter done.

“I am honoured, Bishop Desmorende, to be of use to the Council. I have heard that there is some sort of a… how would I say… civil war amongst the Black worshippers… And this time Khalag might actually need intervention of the Evil to survive. I suppose we should strike when they are weak?” enquired the Commander. I poured some wine to two glasses and handed them over to them.

“Exactly! Act when they are weak! But appareantly there is something you do not know, which puzzles us all greatly. Actually no one of the Council could offer any explanation to this matter… Khalag is dead.” I was about to cry out loud out of suprise, but managed to control myself. Desmorende continued: “He lost the grace of the Dark, a matter we cannot understand. What almost everyone of the council agreed on, is that we should take decicive action now, immediately once this new henchman, their black master Hiferion, is still consolidating his position and learning how to control his dark masters regime. Many important areas actually resist Hiferion, since they seem to believe Khalag’s death to be our propaganda! Hah, think of it…” The Bishop fell silent after his long explanation.

“Khalag dead… Light reveal me! Centuries of his rule is over then… What am I to do, Representative of the Council of Sun?” said Hitilo, hiding his utter suprise and concern about a matter he did not understand at all behind formality and firm loyalty.

“You are to lead the forces of Light, of all South – save the two provinces which refused on the basis of harvest season – to invade the Blacklands immediately, with full force. Take at least Khirmodal, and proceed further if possible. The expedition has the full support of the Council… though for some odd reasons Marshal Ofialop and Archbishop Esitaki were reluctant to agree. But they are old! You are young, Commander, and the Light shines strong in you!” said the Bishop handing over detailed orders. I smiled on behalf of the Commander. What an honour!

“It is my highest joy and honour to serve the Light and the Righteous Way!” answered Hitilo, almost yelling.

“Good luck then, son of Light. Remember that the whole Church is behind you. We shall meet at the detailed discussion of the expedition tomorrow morning at the senateroom.” told the Bishop. Then, after a brief pause, already from the door leading out, he suddenly turned and continued, mysteriously: “…by the way Axelo… did you know that Hifero means ‘dedicated’ in blacktongue? What an interesting coincidence, is it not…” After saying this, the Bishop left quickly. I stood, quietly astonished. The Commander walked slowly across the room, to the door.
”Bring me my full armor, Silversword and two kiteshields in one hour, to my quarters. See you then, Jocce. And get ready in every possible way, I estimate we will be leaving after from six to eight days,“ the Commander of Cavalry said and left. I went to ready his equipment.

And by the way, Hitilo means “dedicated” in our mothertongue.

The downfall of the Highest

The downfall of the Highest, for the Darkest shows no compassion

The dark robed figure hurried to the Dark sanctum. He was terrified to the death. Hiferon had reached the fortress and breached in like nothing. The figure kneeled on the red silk carpet, the carpet he had kneeled so many times before, and lowered his face.

“Master! Why is it so? Do you test me? Why hasn’t your black omnipotence stopped that arrogant creature? Master! My loyalty has never faltered! “ the man cried in fear, but also in bewilderment and genuine suprise.

Quickly, in a flash of bright shadows, a terrifying figure appeared on the inner sanctum. It was the Darkest, the Despair of Worlds, the Lustgiver, the Enemy and the King of Kings of Men, as his clergy put it. He laughed in a horrible, blasphemic way.

“Pitiful rat, you are! You spent your life kneeling. It is over now. I just had to let you two struggle it out to see that he was strong enough, and that you suffered enough in your doubts. He will take over now, and that is probably the last time you kneel without pain. I doubt you will be kept alive for long, though!” The kneeled figure was speechless of the betrayal.

“But Lord, I spent my life serving you! Did I not fulfill your purpose always, always!”

“You spent your life serving yourself!” the Master of Shadows screamed. “And you know that. Don’t say that your soul was not promised to the one the priests of Light call ‘the Deceiver’. Ha! I find it almost touching…So many centuries of servitude and you still do not understand that I enjoy your downfall. It gives me pleasure to see you tormented, you worthless rotting corpse,” said the all-powerful entity.

At the same moment, as the dark ‘blessing’ became undone with the words of the Emperor of Darkness, the kneeled man started to feel his body growing old in seconds. Centuries of prolonged life – by means of living sacrifices – fell upon him. Death touched every part of him, and he felt it.

“But he is nothing, Master! Nothing! He cannot serve your purposes, command your armies, control the masses, whip the priests! He is not worthy of you!” cried the desperate figure with a voice of an ancient being.

The Dark one smiled. Angels cried blood as pure evil was present.

“I serve my purpose. You all are nothing.”

As the footsteps of the crooked warriors of Hiferon approched, the miserable figure bursted for one last time: “You betrayed me! You deceived me! The fires of Light will someday burn your non-existance and the Light will curse you as it has! You are nothing compared to the One! You betrayed me! You deceived me! Terror! Horror! Corruptor of men! Cursed, cursed, I renounce you!” After this he collapsed. The Dark was not there anymore. Shortly after the crooked warriors dragged the old man’s body away. At the order of their new Highest master Hiferion, all left the room. Silence fell to the Dark sanctum. Hiferion, a young, powerful, armored man stood near the altar in confusion.

“Kneel…” said a whisper from the dark. The man obeyed. One soul given. For souls are always given, no power can take one.

At the lowly grave where the corpse of Khalag, the Highest, now a rotting, old corpse, lay, a whisper could be heard, barely a scratch of a knife pulled against a tombstone: “Renounce me… That is what they all say in the end. Every single one. All.”