People need to know what is going on. We do not run a pantomime, we are not in the art of showbusiness, we are in the art of statehood. Statehood requires us all to be on the same page.

Pantheon Politics, were schemes are designed to try and one-up rivals, are simply not good enough for the needs of humanity.

– Excerpt from the private writings of God Arascus, of Pride.

Arascus looked over the report that General Sokolowski had sent over to him. A colonel, one that no doubt lost some bet, had been sent over to give a report of General Sokolowski’s army. The man stood with his hands behind his back, boots shoulder width apart, gaze stern yet demur, expression flat. The man’s uniform, the patchwork of grey and black designed to fit in with modern urban terrain and with the Ashlands, was obviously not his usual clothes. They were far too clean, the man’s rank and his name badge were even visible: Colonel Klecka. “Continue.” Arascus rolled his hand in order to indicate to the man to continue giving his report.

And so Colonel Klecka continued. The generals and commanders themselves knew what their subordinates were to speak about and what would go into the report that was for Arascus’ eyes only. Colonel Ilrik, of General Zalewski’s army, also from the Ashlands yet on the other side of Elassa’s Sea compared to Sokolowski, was also here. Then Colonels Sczyt, Immel, Juneapoire, Octius and Smith represented the garrison armies of Lubska, Doschia, Rancais, Rilia and Allia respectively. They sat on one side of the table, the two Ashland Colonels had all but openly sneered at their compatriots. From what Arascus knew, the term given to them was Garrison-Queens. They wore the standard issue black with flags of the various territories they represented. “In terms of seizing the cities, the city-by-city reports are in written form.” Colonel Klecka’s voice boomed. “However there is little that is halting progress within cities.”

Arascus let the man continue. “To sum up, the local independence movements are spontaneous and unorganized. Some say, as is mentioned in the South-Arika report, that it is the internal Ausan police disruption. General consensus amongst leadership is against this theory, the Ausans themselves are fairly brutal in putting down crowds. Subterfuge is simply not their strength, we don’t think so at least.” Colonel Klecka could have used a few pointers from General Sokolowski when it came to giving reports. It was easy enough to follow along, it just wasn’t pleasant on the ears to listen to the man’s constant starting and stopping.

“In regards to the protestors. They are unorganised. General Sokolowski managed to have all the units ready in time. We were camping outside the cities with some troops inside. Ausan local polices forces called Igos for help. Igos gave us permission. We moved in. We help with mass arrests and crowd control. Tanks block off streets and we form a shield-wall for the police to do their jobs. That may change soon because Igos is passing a bill to give us permission to arrest. General Sokolowski makes us venture out with empty magazines, just to make sure that nothing can go wrong. The tanks are loaded though.”

What a man to listen to, Arascus thought. Truly, he was pleasant on the ears. “That’s enough about the cities. You said there is little halting progress within cities but Sokolowski has already said there would be delays. So I assume it is out of cities?”

Colonel Klecka replied immediately, as all good soldiers did. “There are still minor incidents of banditry, but most of those elements have been wiped out by now. The real trouble comes from the Ashlands themselves. Mage support can block the ashstorms if they are about, but it is typically….” The Colonel thought for a moment. “About twenty mages per division. Twenty-four sometimes, depending on how many novices they have. Teams out of patrol don’t get mage support typically. Attrition has gone down, but it is still there. Vehicles still get stuck.”

Colonel Ilrik, from Zalewski’s army, raised his hand. Arascus gave him permission to talk as Colonel Klecka stood there in silence. “Do you get the earthquakes too?” Ilrik asked.

“I was just about to explain.” Klecka replied and Arascus interrupted. He could tell immediately that Ilrik’s voice would be far nicer on the ears than Klecka’s, it wasn’t even a competition. One man sounded as if his life goal was to speak in the verbal form of morse code, the other just sounded like any sort of fellow one could run int.

“Let Colonel Ilrik explain, Colonel Klecka, you may sit down.” Arascus quickly intervened.

Klecka nodded and sat down next to his Ashlands compatriot, opposite the table to the five Garrison-Queens. And Colonel Ilrik stood up, immediately one could tell the difference between the two soldiers. Where Klecka was stiff and uncomfortable, Ilrik stared down his nose not at Arascus but at the five soldiers on the other of the table. The God of Pride did not reprimand, no need. There was no such thing as an organisation without factionalism and it was better that the factions be something cavalier like what army one belonged to rather than what nation one was born in. Devils would always exist, better to learn how to manage a rather harmless one than roll the dice on whatever devil would replace it. “The Ashlands are quiet possibly the worst environment to survive on, on all of Arda.”

Well. That was a start. Ilrik continued. “As Colonel Klecka mentioned, we get the ashstorms. I would also like to highlight that although the land is fertile, the seeding campaign has only reached maybe ten percent of it.” The actual figure was worse, only about five percent of the land had been seeded so far. Imperial Bombers that were flying low and dropping sprays of seeds had hit a roadblock, and it was the sort of roadblock no one could truly circumvent. It was worse than running out of ammunitions, for factories could always work longer and if factories were full, then factories could be built. What happened when one ran out of seeds? Estimates had gone from turning the Ashlands from grey to green in five years to fifty overnight.

“Where the area is seeded, we see civilians from Kirinyaa start to settle, the local populace keeps order and the flora itself stops the ash from leaving the ground. Where the ash is unseeded though, it is unstable and it is unstable terribly so.” Ilrik made a grand gesture with his arms to demonstrate just how unstable it was. “The ashstorms in themselves are just the most obvious sign of the land’s attempt to expel us. The ash itself, in some places, it sits on rock. There, camp can be made. On others, it has filled in rivers and lakes. Men walk like this.” Colonel Ilrik began to walk to demonstrate just how his soldiers walked and Arascus understood why Zalewski had sent this show man away. It must be a break for the general not to have to deal with this. “And then they’re just gone. Poof. Not there. The ash swallows them.”

“Excuse me?” Colonel Sczyt of the Lubskan garrison actually interrupted. Arascus didn’t bother with reprimanding, it caused no trouble and Ilrik was obviously enjoying the attention.

“The ash swallows them.” Ilrik said and Klecka stepped in to actually explain.

“What is meant is that the ash is loose. I would call it quicksand save for the fact I’ve seen quicksand and this is worse. There are parts where you are stepping on surface with one foot, and your other feels like its stepping on water. We map out the danger zones where men get swallowed, but it looks like stepping off a cliff. Save for the fact there is no cliff, there’s just ash. Men just fall. Vehicles too.” Klecka nodded to Ilrik. “Apologies Colonel.”

“None taken.” Ilrik said. “That is how it is those. Vehicles will just disappear. We have small drones on tracks.” Arascus smiled to himself as to how Ilrik explained it. It was effectively a remote-controlled tank, no bigger than a lawn-mower, which was manufactured in Kirinyaa to deal with scouting the Ashlands. “We call them dig-outs, because at the end of everyday, several of them have to be dug-out.”

“Get back on topic, you were discussing earthquakes Colonel.” Arascus interrupted Ilrik and the man coughed and realised he had gone off track himself.

“Of course, of course, apologies your Highness.” He even made a little bow. “The earthquakes, we have no idea what causes them. We know they started recently, a few of the local scientists are theorizing it’s the continent shifting with the weight of the new Central Arikan Sea.” Elassa’s Sea. Sea of Arika. The Mid-Continent. Ashlands Sea. Grey Sea. It had a list of names, eventually one would win out. Everyone used their own though. “When ground starts shaking, the ash liquifies. It’s like shaking sand in a cup and watching it settle. Everything gets swallowed. You can only hope at that point that you’re above a slab of rock and that the slab of rock is stable. We’ve seen holes appear that are large enough for lakes.”

Ilrik once again made a huge motion with his hands as if to demonstrate just what ‘large enough’ actually meant. “And the ground explodes at times too.” Arascus had seen videos of the phenomena. He had some Allian scientist actually explain it, pressure would build up, some pocket of air would be condensed, a crack would form, and the ground would explode leaving behind what could only be described as an artillery crater. Ilrik made a whole bombastic presentation about the explosions from nowhere, where it felt as if you were being shelled yet it was actually the ground itself trying to expel you, and then finally he ran out of steam. “That is everything.”

“Sit down.” Arascus said. Ilrik was annoying to listen to, as was Klecka, but both of them got what they needed to get across. The real point of this meeting was to get the entire army that was on the surface up to speed on what everyone was doing. They were, after all, merely the holdovers. Kassandora had taken most of the Imperial Military underground in the Second Expedition, and now she was once again leading a force. From the rear this time, apparently they did not have much further to push to find the ravine that was torn open when Elassa moved a continent. Now though, it was time for the Epan Garrison-Queens.

It should have been time for the Epan Garrison-Queens to talk about their woes of supply line logistics and madness-inducing management of the Second Expedition’s home turf, where they had to make sure that the supplies to seven-figures worth of soldiers were being shipped off on time. There were a series of knocks on the door. Strong, direct ones, that sounded less like a person knocking and more smashing their fist against the door. From the volume, it was obviously a Divine. Arascus looked around the room at the various generals and men. “It seems we have a guest.” He looked around the room. “It’s a Divine.” That immediately got the attention of the men. “Excuse me gentlemen.” Arascus said and then immediately raised his voice. “Come in!” He shouted.

It was Kavaa. Kavaa, proud little Goddess of Health that looked as if she had come out of a frantic, chaotic dream. She was half again the height of the tallest man in the room, save for Arascus who was half-again her height. Her grey hair was part straight and brushed, and then in parts it was wavy as if she had just given up on fixing her appearance. Her white shirt, black coat, black pants and black boots were all professional and her shirt was even tucked in, but it was obvious she had just grabbed what was closest. And was that specks of blood under her nails? “I’ve got it!” She shouted and then looked around. Her smile did not drop but her tone did and she at least pretended to have come in formality. “I’ve got it Sir.”

Arascus knew that bringing attention to how she spoke to him privately would just make it worse, so he only pretended not to have heard her in the first place. “Is it urgent Kavaa?” Arascus asked and swept his hand over the meeting. “Because as you can see, I have company.” It was less for the words said and more to remind Kavaa that, at the end of the day, she was an Imperial Goddess and she could not, or should not, say something embarrassing. Nᴇw novel chapters are publɪshed on NoveI-Fire.ɴet

But Kavaa did not say anything embarrassing “I think I know how to wake her up.” Personal it may have been, but Arascus did not care. He stood up, expression in awe at the Goddess of Health. They… Kavaa… Arascus did not need to ask who she meant, but Kavaa clarified nonetheless. “Baalka, of Disease. I think I can wake her. I think I’ve cracked it.”

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