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Before the Storm: Act 11, Chapter 10
🕑 Added 2025-06-18 03:45:38 +0000 UTC“I’m back. What are the new probabilities for a successful incursion?”
“Zero point zero zero one three for the southern foothills. Zero point zero zero seven two for the Völkchenheim border.”
The Elder Lich’s unwavering confidence while quoting the unreasonably precise number was a wonder in itself. That number changed from day to day as Ludmila and her Rangers tested the defences along the Re-Estize border, yet every time a weakness was discovered, a new probability was delivered with absolute certainty. If Ludmila wasn’t familiar with the Sorcerer King’s Elder Liches, she would have interpreted their behaviour as uninvested incompetence and dismissed them on the spot.
Of course, what they were doing would be considered utterly ludicrous by most. A set of new policies handed down by the Royal Court mandated that military planning needed to present exact numbers for everything, right down to strategic analysis.
No, not the Royal Court. Lady Albedo is responsible for this.
Lady Shalltear was fastidious, but in an earnest, straightforward manner. Lord Mare and Lady Aura, for the most part, took life as it came. Lord Cocytus was outwardly stern, but his leadership style offered what many might consider too much leeway to his subordinates. Lord Demiurge was something of an enigma, but, according to Florine, the results of his influence tended to come in innocuous, roundabout ways.
Only Lady Albedo would impose the sort of distant, bookish approach that the new mandates represented. She had mostly succeeded in doing so for the Sorcerous Kingdom’s administration, and now she was trying to promote her methods everywhere else.
Ludmila could see the benefit of doing so for someone in Lady Albedo’s position. Indeed, it allowed one to rule in an unprecedented fashion, interpreting data in such a way that one could make informed decisions with confidence. It was the sort of thing that one might expect to find in Baharuth’s Imperial Administration if it had access to the same processing capabilities as the Sorcerous Kingdom.
Unfortunately, using abstracted data came with a host of weaknesses and pitfalls. Foremost amongst them was the extraordinary level of education, experience, and skill required to accurately interpret said data and apply it effectively to whatever one was doing. The unqualified could confidently careen into catastrophe attempting to do the same.
The second, equally critical weakness was that it depended on knowns. Most would consider this entirely rational, but that same rationality would imprison them in a flawed paradigm – a false reality where it was assumed that what was known was all that mattered and all that there was.
At present, it was very easy to challenge the ‘data’ by providing new data. As the right hand of the executive and head of the judiciary, Lady Albedo wasn’t particularly proud or obstinate when it came to addressing gaps in information and the resulting flaws in institutional implementation. In fact, according to Clara, Lady Albedo was quite energetic whenever it happened.
But that is as an administrator, not as a military commander.
Ludmila’s eyes went to the map spread over the table to trace the demarcation of the Duchy’s southern border. Throughout their preparations for the war, the probabilities there remained constant…or, rather, unknown.
Waging war wasn’t the same as running a business or managing domestic affairs. The enemy was not obligated to provide verified data, and any attempt to gather intelligence contended with counterintelligence and even seemingly benign things like differences in both racial and cultural perception. The guarantees sought by civilian administrators didn’t exist, and every military leader ultimately gambled in ways that would tie their civilian peers into knots.
Another Elder Lich at the table stirred, raising its withered fingers to cover the dessicated flesh of its ruined ear.
“Captain.”
“Yes, what is it, Hakoji?”
“This one has received a Message from Army Group North. You are to report to the northern headquarters once preparations here have been finalised.”
Ludmila frowned at the Elder Lich’s words.
“Army Group North issued that order?”
“Yes.”
That wasn’t right. The Sorcerous Kingdom had four army groups stationed within its borders, each with an independent chain of command. One army group couldn’t order a Skeleton from another army group to do anything without the proper authorisation, never mind the chief of staff of said army group.
“I must decline for security purposes,” Ludmila said. “If my presence is required, then Army Group North should go through the proper channels.”
“The probability of an Elder Lich from Army Group North being a security risk is nonexistent.”
“It is not nonexistent,” Ludmila told Hakoji. “Procedure exists for a reason. Circumventing procedure creates openings for the issues that those procedures are implemented to prevent in the first place.”
This war couldn’t be over soon enough.
Contrary to common knowledge, the Undead could very much be influenced by their emotions. This went doubly so for the summoned variety. Already unnaturally zealous in their service to the Sorcerer King, the Undead servitors in the Royal Army saw the coming war as an opportunity to add an extra serving of ‘service’, whether it was desired or not.
In real combat, this resulted in ludicrous displays of over-the-top violence that were either utterly terrifying or borderline comical, depending on where one stood relative to the transaction. Outside of combat, it resulted in incidents similar to the one that had just occurred, where servitors would do everything within their power to expedite what they each personally considered to be the optimal result. As every powerful Undead being summoned by the Sorcerer King possessed intelligence and thus a unique personality, this created a situation where there was potentially an endless procession of issues to address.
Some time ago, she was presented with the opportunity to discuss the excitable nature of the Undead servitors with the Sorcerer King. In response, he offered a somewhat helpless shrug and stated that it came hand-in-hand with the fact that they could think for themselves. Intelligent summons were infinitely more versatile at performing their tasks, far surpassing their summoner’s ability to micromanage them. For that same reason, careless instructions could lead to unexpected results.
His Majesty then shared some of his own experiences where even he had been caught by surprise, even when directly commanding his own servitors. He had learned to be very specific about avoiding particular outcomes when issuing orders, or at least accept and learn from unexpected results.
This notion constituted a huge chunk of a little-known backend of the Sorcerous Kingdom’s processes when it came to how it managed its ever-increasing number of Undead servitors. New servitors were issued a framework of general orders, after which they underwent education for their respective roles. That education was constantly revised and added to, so even servitors already in service needed to periodically update their knowledge.
Said education also varied in substance and quality depending on where the servitor ended up, which created a curious outcome where one could tell which servitors worked for whom. While not terrible by any stretch of the imagination, the servitors assigned to the other army groups – particularly Army Group North – were by far the most liberal in their actions.
“Captain Zahradnik,” Hakoji said. “I have received a message from one of the Grand Marshal’s adjutants. The Grand Marshal has formally ordered your transfer to Army Group North to assist with the main war effort. You are to report to their headquarters as soon as your defensive preparations here have been completed.”
“Acknowledged,” Ludmila replied. “Am I to bring any staff or materials with me?”
“No.”
Ludmila looked around the sparsely furnished command hall. She couldn’t say that there was much left to do given what they knew. Unless the Theocracy attacked in support of the Kingdom of Re-Estize, which was doubtful considering the war’s circumstances, what little mischief the Kingdom might be able to muster along the border would be taken care of whether she was present or not. Additionally, with the highly limited number of officers in the Royal Army, she suspected that there would be a lot of transferring about until an entire generation of new Commanders had been raised to meet the Sorcerous Kingdom’s needs.
“Lluluvien,” Ludmila said, “are there any outstanding issues that I should be aware of?”
“Not that I’m aware of, Captain,” the Half-Elf Commander replied. “The useful experience that comes with our preparations aside, I doubt that the Kingdom will be able to do much of anything once this war starts in earnest. Have you heard about where it will be taking place?”
“You know about as much as I do when it comes to that,” Ludmila said. “If I were to guess, Re-Estize would insist on the battles taking place at a location that is convenient for their logistics. A field near their capital, for instance.”
“If I were King Rampossa,” Lluluvien said, “I’d have the battle happen somewhere well out of sight. Re-Estize is already in a bad enough way as it is: another disaster of a war might very well cause it to fly apart at the seams.”
That wasn’t necessarily a bad thing. Re-Estize’s decades-long spiral into decadence and decay had brought it to a point where the fiefs that were still doing relatively well would be better served by breaking themselves off from the Kingdom to seek their own respective paths. In the past, the threat of the Empire and its Bloody Emperor’s record of purging aristocrats necessitated a unified response. The threat of the Sorcerous Kingdom had since replaced the threat of the Empire, and, as the seasons passed without incident, Ludmila and her fellow peers grew hopeful that the fears of their former peers would recede.
Well, this war also serves as a political opportunity.
It was difficult to understate just how set the people of Re-Estize were in their ways. They were accustomed to rumours of change trickling in from abroad, and word from anywhere outside of their respective fiefs, never mind outside of their Kingdom, was treated as little more than a bit of entertainment that ultimately did not affect their lives. The sun would continue to shine, the rains would come and go, and with the change in seasons came the change in time-tested routines inherited from generations past.
War, on the other hand, was firmly ingrained in Re-Estize culture. Security was the foundation of the contract between vassal and liege, after all. After suffering another decisive defeat against the Sorcerous Kingdom, confidence in their country’s already dismal ability to defend itself would crumble even further. More importantly, the Sorcerous Kingdom resolving two wars in a civil manner would serve to boost its image as a legitimate, ‘civilised’ state over its undeserved reputation as a kingdom of darkness.
If things went well, the war might very well serve as the necessary catalyst for Re-Estize’s fragmentation. After that, she doubted that the resulting fiefdoms would put up any further resistance to the Sorcerous Kingdom’s hegemonic dominance.
“Whatever happens,” Ludmila said, “the people of Re-Estize will need to reexamine how their interests are truly best served. At any rate, I should get going. Contact me if there are any developments.”
“I will, Captain. Happy hunting.”
I suppose the past isn’t so easy to leave behind.
Given the Linum sisters’ experiences as subjects of Re-Estize, it wasn’t a surprise that they would so readily embrace the idea of another war with their former kingdom. Would the countless unfortunates dwelling in the Kingdom also find satisfaction in the misfortunes of those they had suffered under? She didn’t think it was a very productive approach to life, but, then again, they probably didn’t think there was much in life to look forward to.
Ludmila hopped onto a public coach parked not far from the entrance of the army headquarters, riding it back to the village north of the base. Night had long fallen over Warden’s Vale, though the village square remained brightly illuminated by the magical lighting created by the local artificers. As late as it was, the streets were empty save for the Undead security stationed around the area. Ludmila nodded slightly as she walked past the ones on the way to her manor, where she found Glasir toiling behind the building.
“Up late again, I see,” Ludmila said.
The Dryad’s vibrant vermilion foliage trembled slightly as she got off her hands and knees to greet her.
“Hello, my lady,” Glasir said. “I was just worried about the sprouts.”
Ludmila went to stand beside Glasir, examining the young Dryad’s handiwork. For the past year, she had been working hard to cultivate soil out of the village’s refuse. The result of that effort was several small plots of the stuff laid out around Ludmila’s manor amidst the thin crust of snow blanketing the ground.
One might ask why Glasir didn’t just cart dirt in from beyond the barren, rocky island, and the answer was that she was in the process of creating an ecosystem that was unique to the city that would stand there in the future. It was a city that would exist under the boughs of Glasir’s tree, which Lord Mare claimed could grow as tall – if not taller – as the nearby mountains. The various plants that he had brought over to grow in the manor hall were all species that could be found under, around, and on trees like Glasir’s.
“The sprouts seem to be doing fine,” Ludmila noted.
“I can’t help but worry, you know?” Glasir said, “Plants usually die away when it’s cold enough for snow to stick around. Just looking at them makes me feel miserable.”
It probably wasn’t that bad. The plots of dirt were sculpted in such a way that they sheltered their sprouts from the worst of the winter wind. This allowed the temperature-regulating items arrayed around the growing area to keep the air and soil quite a bit warmer than the seasonal norm. Currently, it wasn’t anywhere near as effective as it would have been if it were in an enclosed space. As the plants grew and created more spaces where air could linger, however, things would improve considerably.
“Did Lord Mare mention how long it will take these seedlings to grow?” Ludmila asked.
“He doesn’t know,” Glasir answered. “It depends on how much they like it here. Their parents did just fine inside the manor, so these kids should do fine once they get going.”
That sounded reasonable enough. Unlike the usual batch of strange plants that Lord Mare occasionally brought over, the ones planted before grew from the accumulated seeds of those that had been growing in the manor. They had initially been selected by Lord Mare after he had identified them as potential colonising species, and their rapid propagation so far seemed to prove the validity of his assumption.
“Do you plan on using any magic to aid them?” Ludmila asked.
“Not for these ones,” Glasir answered. “They’ll already outgrow the dirt that I have as it is. If anything, most of my excess mana will be used for my tree.”
“Are you set on putting down your roots here?”
“That’s normal, isn’t it?” Glasir replied, “Every Dryad is born from a tree, so they live their entire lives in the spot they were born. My tree just happened to be growing in a pot.”
It made sense from a Dryad’s perspective, but most would probably find life tethered to a tree oppressively restrictive. Then again, it would be a very large tree, so Glasir might still end up enjoying a far greater range than many Humans would normally experience in a lifetime. With that being the case, it did feel prudent to put down roots and grow as quickly as possible to achieve this.
“We will have to discuss the development around you before you get started,” Ludmila said. “For now, I must report to the northern army headquarters.”
“You’re going to fight? I thought you were guarding the borders here.”
“We have made the appropriate preparations,” Ludmila replied. “Re-Estize will not choose a battlefield so ill-suited to their forces, so the most this territory should reasonably expect are raids along the border by overzealous border lords or opportunistic brigands.”
“What are brigands like?” The young Dryad asked.
“The ones in Re-Estize would mostly be commonfolk who have resorted to rural crime to survive, with the occasional gangs of Mercenaries who cannot secure enough work. Largely speaking, they will not pose a significant threat to the Sorcerous Kingdom, but they must still be dealt with should they appear.”
Glasir blinked her eyes slowly as she listened to Ludmila’s explanation, and, once again, Ludmila considered focusing more on the Dryad’s civic education. Up until recently, she thought it best for Glasir to pursue her studies as a Druid. With her becoming more involved in the development of the city, however, she needed a sound civil foundation to inform her decisions.
“When will you be back?”
“I don’t know,” Ludmila said. “The war itself will undoubtedly be brief. As with any war, however, it is what goes on surrounding it that takes up the most time and energy. Do not hesitate to Message me if you need anything.”
“Alright.”
Glasir went back to tending her ‘garden’, and that was that. Unlike races like Humans and Goblins, Dryads didn’t linger to socialise without a reason. Ludmila hoped that Glasir would eventually develop an appreciation for the company of others, but it clearly wasn’t something that could be forced upon her.
After picking up a few things in her manor and informing Nonna of her departure, Ludmila headed north along the riverbank while organising her thoughts for her role in the coming conflict. As far as the Royal Army’s forces went, she wasn’t particularly powerful. What she did bring to the table in this case, however, was her knowledge of Re-Estize as a former member of its aristocracy. While one might dismiss the importance of such a thing given the hopeless disparity in military might between the two sides, how the war was fought and its specific outcomes would be critical to future diplomacy and cultural exchange.
She wasted no time upon arriving in E-Rantel, finding Lady Pestonya for a Gate to the army headquarters on the northern slopes of the Azerlisia Mountains. The icebound fortress overlooking the ocean was unexpectedly quiet, and it wasn’t until she reached its command chamber that she found more than two people together.
“Captain Zahradnik, arriving as ordered.”
The beings standing around the massive granite table dominating the room turned their attention from their ongoing discussion. Numbering among the gathering were many familiar figures, with Sigurd, Gunnar, and the Goblin Strategist among them. The Grand Marshal was, of course, present, as well as a handful of his insectoid lieutenants.
“Welcome,” Lord Cocytus gestured for her to join them. “Your Area…is prepared?”
“The defences have been prepared, Your Excellency,” Ludmila replied as she walked over to the side of the table more suited to Human-sized individuals. “At least as far as potential offensives from Re-Estize are concerned. Our limited intelligence on the Theocracy makes me hesitant to claim anything beyond a plausible level of readiness when it comes to them.”
“We were just speaking about our neighbours to the distant south,” Commander Gunnar said. “According to the reports passed down to us from the Royal Court, a war of sorts is preceding ours.”
“Are you referring to the war with the Elves in Evasha?” Ludmila asked.
“No. The conflict in question rages in Re-Estize,” the Frost Giant Commander said.
“‘Raging’ slightly exaggerates the intensity of this particular contest,” the Goblin Strategist said. “A war in the shadows is being waged: one between the agents of the Theocracy’s intelligence assets and ours.”
“I take it that the intelligence division is smart enough not to provoke the Theocracy just before we begin our war with Re-Estize,” Ludmila said.
“Reportedly, no orders to that effect have been given,” the Goblin Strategist told her. “My best guess as to why this is happening is that our ongoing integration of Ijaniya’s support network in Re-Estize has provoked a response. Perhaps they feel that it gives us an intolerable edge in covert matters.”
“My opinion on this differs,” Commander Gunnar said. “I have had ample opportunity to study what we know about this ‘Slane Theocracy’. While I may not be familiar with Humans as a species, the actions of this country suggest that they believe that the territories within their sphere of influence belong to them. More specifically, they seem to believe that the Human race belongs to them.”
“They consider humanity under their guidance,” Ludmila replied. “The Theocracy has invested heavily in the protection and cultivation of Human populations in the region.”
“Like a herdsman tending to his Nuk,” the Frost Giant snorted. “In the end, the herdsman still draws from the herd.”
She didn’t like the analogy, but she couldn’t deny that there was some truth to it after what she had learned on her travels. The Human populations outside of the Theocracy were like herds wherein the finest specimens were earmarked as prime breeding material and enticed to migrate through various means. This strengthened the Theocracy at the expense of every other country, gradually increasing each of the latter’s dependence on the former as it slowly pushed back the threats impeding their development.
Strength was required to face strength, and the results were undeniable. She could even argue that it was a sensible arrangement, given how fractious Human populations could become. Strength divided could be defeated in detail, so it was better to have it at the disposal of a single authority that prioritised the survival of the species over petty political interests.
Of course, with the advent of the Sorcerous Kingdom, there was no longer any need for the Theocracy to continue its efforts. Unfortunately, convincing them of this fact was a far more difficult task than one might expect.
“How has the intelligence division responded to this aggression?” Ludmila asked.
“With preemptive action,” the Goblin Strategist answered. “Rather than waiting for the Theocracy’s remaining agents to act, Ijaniya has been ordered to eliminate them. Since Ijaniya’s members were already deployed throughout the Kingdom on their other task, the resolution should come swiftly.”
“The question is how the Theocracy will react,” Ludmila said. “I know that the Windflower Scripture acts in more of a passive observation role and uses conventional communications, but the Clearwater Scripture is a different story altogether. The Clearwater Agents we’ve observed in the Sorcerous Kingdom have all been magic casters with access to the Message spell.”
“The Katze Army Group has been mobilised as a precaution,” the mantis-like insectoid lieutenant said. “Any move that the Theocracy makes will be kept in check by them.”
“I see,” Ludmila said. “In that case, how can I be of assistance here?”
“As you may have surmised,” the Goblin Strategist said, “you have been called upon for your expertise as both a Human and a former member of the Re-Estize aristocracy. We would like you to act as an advisor to the general staff as it oversees operations.”
Somehow, the fact that she was no longer Human was still mostly unknown in the Sorcerous Kingdom. She wasn’t even sure if anyone in the Royal Court aside from Lady Shalltear was aware. Not that she minded. The truth would inevitably be known due to the unchanging, immortal nature of the Undead, and her life was already busy enough for the time being without additional complications.
“Am I correct in assuming that I will remain here rather than afield?” Ludmila asked.
“Correct,” the Grand Marshal said.
“You have already had many opportunities for glory, Shieldmaiden,” Sigurd said a bit too jovially. “It is time for the rest of us to have ours.”
“I do not mean to dampen your enthusiasm, Lord Sigurd,” Ludmila replied, “but I doubt that this conflict will abound in what your people consider glorious. Who else will be deployed to the battlefield?”
“Every Guardian,” a blast of frigid breath accompanied Lord Cocytus’ response.
Ludmila fought to keep her confusion in check. All of the ministers would participate? Did that mean each of their ministries was also participating in some way? Granted, each ministry did have enough military power to wage war effectively if it came down to it, but what was the point in going out of their way to do so?
“I believe I have missed something crucial here,” Ludmila said. “Shall we start from the beginning?”
Comments
Vinka
Could still level up by absorbing the negative energy being created by millions of people dying, like in the Draconic kingdom
Gopard
Thanks for the chapter! I like it Ludmila is right thinking exactly like I expected she would. Use this as a chance to cut out the rotted leadership structures form the region into SK hegemony while easily keeping with their benevolent appearance of only doing things with "just cause" and not overly cruel... However I really wonder just how she will react to the ACTUAL "war plans" XD
Duke of Coffee
Bloodmila is going to be ordered to guard the rear? Welp guess the leveling up opportunity is dashed?
