Chapter 167: The Members of the Voyage

Red leaned back in his throne and let out a soft chuckle. He already knew the truth of the council’s plotting, and he knew perfectly well that Gorak would say exactly this. It was that unyielding, stubborn pride that made the Troglodyte such a devastating force of nature.

If Gorak had simply accepted the insult lying down, Red would have been deeply disappointed in him.

Red tethered his voice back to the statue.

“AND WHAT WOULD YOU HAVE ME DO WITH THEM, GORAK?” the booming voice echoed, shaking the very foundations of the Bastion. “SHALL I PUNISH YOU ALL? SHALL I GROUND EVERY SINGLE ELDER IN THIS ROOM TO TEACH YOU DISCIPLINE? WHO WILL LEAD MY WAR MACHINE ACROSS THE OCEAN IF MY ENTIRE HIGH COMMAND IS SITTING IN TIMEOUT?”

Gorak swallowed hard, the terrifying logic of the Sovereign pressing down on him. He desperately wanted to cross the ocean and shatter the Fourth Continent’s lines.

“Perhaps…” Gorak backpedaled carefully, keeping his head bowed. “Perhaps the Sovereign does not need to punish anyone. We all sail as originally intended. We unleash our full might, and let the slaughter serve as our penance.”

“INCORRECT,” Red declared, the crimson fire flaring violently. “SOMEONE OF APEX AUTHORITY MUST REMAIN TO ANCHOR THIS CONTINENT. THE LOCAL GARRISONS ARE SECURE. THE BASTION HAS MOSS-EYE MANAGING THE EASTERN BEAST-KIN. ONYX HALL HAS ELDER ZEK. AND THE CITY OF SPIRAL HAS COMMANDER GUSTAV…”

Red paused, allowing the weight of the human militia chief’s name to settle over Elian. Gustav was a brilliant tactician and a fiercely loyal human warrior, but he was still a mortal.

“BUT NONE OF THEM POSSESS THE APEX STRENGTH REQUIRED TO REPEL A GLOBAL THREAT IF THE CAPITAL IS ATTACKED,” Red continued.

Gorak immediately pointed a thick, armored finger at the Kobold beside him. “Then punish Iron-Scale, Sovereign! Leave the assassin behind. He orchestrated this deceit. His punishment should be to watch the ships sail without him!”

Iron-Scale let out a vicious, metallic hiss. He abandoned his respectful silence and glared at the Troglodyte. “You overgrown rock! I mapped the entire naval route while you were busy playing in the mud! Your brute strength is a liability to a coordinated invasion. You deserve to sit on the throne and rot!”

“I will shatter your metallic skull before you even reach the docks!” Gorak roared back, half-rising from his knees.

“ENOUGH!” The word cracked like divine thunder. The gravity inside the strategy chamber doubled instantly. The floor beneath the commanders shattered, forcing them all flat against the ruined stone.

Red’s anger flared. They had dared to resume their petty bickering directly beneath his gaze.

“YOUR Egos EXHAUST ME,” Red’s voice rumbled with absolute finality. “HEAR MY FINAL DECREE. NO VOTE WILL OVERTURN THIS.”

The commanders lay completely paralyzed under the suffocating weight.

“PROPHET ELIAN. YOU WILL REMAIN. YOU HAVE DUTIES TO YOUR MORTAL FLOCK THAT CANNOT BE IGNORED.”

Elian squeezed his eyes shut. “Thy will be done.”

“SUPREME COMMANDER IRON-SCALE. YOU WILL SAIL. YOU WILL DIRECT THE SLAUGHTER ON THE FOURTH CONTINENT.” Red paused, letting the Kobold feel a brief surge of victory before crushing it. “AND UPON YOUR RETURN TO THESE SHORES, YOU WILL FACE THE CRUCIBLE AS PUNISHMENT FOR SUBVERTING YOUR FELLOW COMMANDER. OLD-SHELL AND ELDER SYRA SHALL ACCOMPANY YOU AS PLANNED.”

Iron-Scale’s breath hitched, but he bowed his head. “I accept the Spiral’s judgment.”

“AND WARLORD GORAK,” the burning statue declared. “YOU WILL REMAIN BEHIND.”

Gorak let out a sound of pure agony, his pride fracturing. “Sovereign, I am your heaviest weapon—”

“SILENCE. I CONCEDE TO YOUR TACTICAL LOGIC. THE TROGLODYTE LEGIONS ARE ABSOLUTELY NECESSARY TO SHATTER THE ENEMY’S HEAVY CAVALRY,” Red stated smoothly, springing his trap. “HOWEVER, AS KING OF THE DEEP-CORE, YOU WILL STAY AND EXECUTE A HIGH-LEVEL, CLASSIFIED DIRECTIVE FOR ME HERE ON THE SEVENTEENTH CONTINENT.”

Before Gorak could ask about the mission, Red delivered the killing blow to the argument.

“TO ENSURE THE HEAVY SHOCK TROOPS DO NOT LACK LEADERSHIP, I OFFICIALLY ELEVATE GULAG TO THE RANK OF GENERAL. SHE WILL LEAD YOUR KIN ACROSS THE OCEAN IN YOUR STEAD.”

Gorak froze completely. The anger drained from his massive body, replaced by a sudden, profound realization of how masterfully he had been outmaneuvered.

He had demanded the Vanguard’s heavy hitters be deployed. And Red gave him exactly that.

If Gorak argued against this decision now, he would be directly implying to his god, his fellow commanders, and the entire Vanguard army that his own mate, who was a terrifyingly lethal huntress in her own right, was too weak to lead the charge. To protest was to publicly insult Gulag’s honor.

He was completely trapped. Gulag would get her glorious war, and the mighty Warlord Gorak was forced to sit on the throne and babysit the capital.

“THE WAR COUNCIL IS ADJOURNED,” Red commanded softly.

The crimson violet fire vanished from the obsidian statue. The crushing gravity lifted from the capital, allowing the commanders to finally draw a full breath.

Iron-Scale let out a ragged chuckle from the floor, thoroughly enjoying the Troglodyte’s absolute defeat.

Gorak pushed himself up from the ruined stone, his expression a mix of awe at the Sovereign’s cunning and utter dread at having to tell Gulag that she was leaving without him.

The next day, dawn broke over the City of Spiral. Dozens of massive ironclad transport vessels sat low in the dark water of the Continental Moat, their alchemical engines humming with a deep, bone-rattling vibration.

The scale of the departure was staggering. Fifty thousand troops marched in perfect, thunderous unison up the heavy iron ramps. The clatter of star-iron armor and the stomping of heavy boots echoed across the bay.

Humans, and Shell-Kin, and the Beast-Kins such as the Grey-Fins, Kobolds, and Troglodytes formed flawless blockades on the decks, while the colossal Troglodyte heavy infantry settled into the reinforced lower holds. Massive artillery cannons were locked into firing positions along the bows, their barrels gleaming with lethal intent.

Supreme Commander Iron-Scale stood at the very edge of the flagship’s prow. His metallic scales caught the morning light as he stared hungrily across the ocean. Elder Syra stood beside him, her glass slate glowing as she perfectly synchronized the fleet’s trajectory.

Below them, Old-Shell occupied a specially reinforced platform on the main deck, serving as the fleet’s living siege engine.

Suddenly, a massive, deep-sea horn blew from the flagship, vibrating the air itself. The black banners of the Spiral snapped violently in the ocean wind as the armada would soon begin its slow, inevitable crawl toward the Second Continent.

Meanwhile, Gorak was spending the last moments with his wife, Gulag.

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