Everything was so abundantly clear, no depths hidden from the eyes watching the winged form descending from the skies.
The messenger’s heart was palpitating rapidly when he landed his Harrak deep within the bailey of the second level of The Unifier’s soaring citadel in Avalos. His thoughts were so very exposed, revealed in an instant of transcendent perception by the One watching him.
The Avanoran sky rider had been expecting to be greeted by one of the Unifier’s Sorcerers, the ones who attended Him most closely. They often sat within the gable-ended Great Hall that loomed far to his left, diligently conducting the Unifier’s affairs.
The Sorcerers of Avalos were quite unnerving in their own regard, though nothing like the Master that they served. Unlike the Unifier, the guardsman could still endure their presence while keeping his wits and composure. He had envisioned that once they had met his arrival, that they would conduct him deeper into the great fortress, or perhaps lead him on up to one of the higher levels of the citadel that the Unifier normally occupied.
The walk would have given him the precious gift of a little time, as he had hoped for a few undisturbed moments to steel his anxieties. The hopes had been brutally dashed when he saw that the Unifier Himself was awaiting him in person within the bailey. To the guardsman’s great dismay, he also saw that they were alone, anyone else evidently having been dismissed, as the grounds never went unoccupied by the forms of servants, artisans, or guards.
The eerie silence reigning in the bailey was intimidating enough, unnatural as the winds whistled among the series of buildings all around. A dizzying, icy chill of fear seized upon him with the realization of the Unifier’s imminent presence, imbuing his movements with awkwardness. Hurriedly, he got down out of the saddle, his knees nearly buckling as his feet set down on the ground.
The messenger bowed his head immediately, instantly dropping to one knee before the tall, immaculate presence standing before him. He fumbled about as he nervously unlaced and removed his conical iron helm, revealing the short-cropped hair covering his head from his ears forward.
The back half was shaved smooth, as was his face. It was a manner of style that hailed from an earlier age, now embraced by the warriors of the Unifier’s Avanoran garrison within the great citadel. Stoic, determined, and well-trained, the warriors that exhibited the strange, half-shaven style were normally to be respected and feared, at least by the populace of Avanor. The Unifier had no respect for the warrior, and was well aware of the man’s great fear.
As one of the elite garrison force, the man had been privy to many things that few others knew about the powerful being looming before him. Only the Sorcerers knew the Unifier more intimately.
He had no difficulty keeping confidence concerning certain aspects regarding the true nature of the Unifier, as he had openly witnessed what could happen if he ever failed to do so. Bold, even arrogant, in his dealings others in the realm, he was frightened to the point of paralysis just from being in the immediate company of the Unifier.
The moments spent directly before the Unifier were those that he dreaded the most. Being alone with the Unifier, in the middle of an empty bailey, was staggering to his inner composure. It was all that he could do to function within the oppressive climate.
“What is the report?” the Unifier calmly demanded, ignoring the tremendous fear swarming within the guard, and well aware of everything that the man was thinking and feeling.
The messenger kept his eyes averted from the powerful, penetrating gaze of the Unifier. “The Darroks destroyed a large village, and caused much damage to one of the tribes.”
“A village? One village? Did I not make myself clear that five villages were to be destroyed, in the first use of the Darroks?” The Unifier replied in an even tone, intertwined with tendrils of anger. “How was this not clear?”
The guard’s heartbeat was now racing precipitously, as he mustered up every ounce of his will to answer. “Your will was clear, my Lord… They could not continue their attack… They were challenged by tribal defenders, upon sky steeds. They were able to destroy the village, before losses to the Trogens, and threats to the Darroks, forced them to retreat. The losses to the tribesmen were great. Two of every three warriors that came up on sky steeds were slain.”
“And it was said that we would command their skies. That there was no way that the tribes would be able to contend with the Darroks. What can I believe now?” the Unifier stated darkly.
His eyes took on a blazing, reddish hue, with pulsing, swirling movements just beneath the surface of the baleful orbs. Anger rose up within Him at the news that the great Darroks had somehow been forced to suspend their assault, after leveling just one paltry village.
“And of the Darroks?” He inquired in a near hiss.
“They are all healthy,” the messenger replied quickly. “All of the losses were to the Trogens upon the carriages. Be assured that there was no harm to any of the Darroks.”
The Unifier narrowed His eyes as He focused upon the soldier. He could easily sense the increasing trepidation in the human at having to deliver the less than spectacular tidings.
“There is a threat… yes? Speak now, and openly,” the Unifier commanded in a low, threatening voice.
The sky warrior nodded, sweat beading all over his forehead. “Yes, my Lord… A couple of tribesmen were able to cut a harness free on one Darrok. They flew on its underside, and cut the bindings. The carriage was near to sliding off of its back. The Trogens had to abandon the area, or lose the carriage and themselves.”
“How could that be? How could they even reach My Darroks to do such a thing?” the Unifier questioned with clear disgust. The feeble tribesmen had exposed a weakness in Avanor’s mighty new weapon, on just the very first use of it. “Why were those savages able to even come near to My Darroks? How did they pass through the Trogen sky warriors?”
A sickening dread gripped the messenger, as he knew that he could not lie, nor could he sweeten his words. There was no use even trying, and a part of him felt that he should simply run for the steps to the circuit wall on the terrace, mount them, and fling himself quickly from the wall.
“They… were not… sent in the carriages. The Trogens were sent without steeds. It was deemed that all room should be used for the stone missiles. The Darroks were loaded with as much stone as they could bear, with enough of a crew to handle it,” the messenger responded, the cold sweat surging all over his body. A breeze engulfed him, as it channeled through the rectangular buildings nearby, causing him to shiver.
“It was thought that the tribesmen could do nothing,” the guardsman continued. “That their steeds would not be expended on trying to attack the Darroks. That the Trogens would be able to fend any tribesmen off with just bows, if they did emerge to resist. Only a very small number of the tribesmen’s sky riders have even been seen in recent weeks… and none in force near this village. Their numbers were underestimated. It is said that they attacked together… concentrating in a group on one Darrok after another, felling as many Trogens as they could.”
Had the soldier looked up, he would have noticed no change in expression on the Unifier’s face. There was no outward sign of the instantaneous rage that was now churning violently within the tall, dark-haired being. It would not have been unusual, for whether fire or ice surged within Him, His countenance could remain uncannily placid.
The Unifier did not have to ask which magnate or leader had made the errant decision. It would not have been the Trogen leaders, a race of beings that rarely underestimated an opponent. The Trogen warriors had likely had great resentment for the order to go unescorted to begin with. They never would have gone unescorted under their own full command. If anything, the clannish Trogens would probably respect the tribal humans too much. The Trogens that had survived the fight would surely bring word of the debacle back to their own leaders, straining an already tenuous alliance.
The messenger would have been horrified to learn of the torments that the Unifier considered giving to the one responsible for the decision to leave sky steeds off of the Darroks.
The fact that the guard did not know his Master’s thoughts also mercifully spared him the brief moment when the Unifier contemplated immolating the guard, simply for having brought word of vulnerabilities that could have been so easily avoided.
The Unifier did not reply to the guard, instead calmly walking past the messenger and on towards the steps leading up to the wall walk. The Unifier’s long, rapid stride carried Him there in moments. The guard remained on his knee behind, not about to follow the Lord of Avanor.
The Unifier simmered, yet what was done, had been done. Another measure would have to be considered in regard to the Five Realms. The ongoing defiance of the tribesmen, like a wind fanning a fire through parched woodlands, had spread growing flames of hatred within Him. The news of their partial success against the Darroks made His spirit boil.
For just a moment, He contemplated the ironies inherent in the moment, as poor tribesmen continued to resist and reject what rich and powerful Kings, Sultans, and Emperors readily embraced.
Once at the wall’s crenellated edge, the Unifier swept His gaze across Avalos. He could see the spires of the great Cathedral of Avalos far below, a place nearing completion after many long years of construction. Being constructed with the latest techniques of architecture in the western lands, with towering spires, flying buttresses, and intricate vaults, it would bring a stream of visitors into the city. Though it appeared tiny from His vantage point, the huge edifice served as the most elite church in all of Avanor, the seat of the powerful Archbishop Regnier himself.
The thought of the Cathedral never ceased to amuse the Unifier, especially how it looked so small and insignificant before His towering, mighty citadel. The Cathedral was where many of the wealthiest nobles believed that they offered worship to the Accursed One. While their utterances may have been addressed to the God of the Western Church, an irritant enough, the Unifier was consoled by the reality that their hearts and deeds had long ago fallen to the service of Another.
Other nobles and authorities made their appearances within the Cathedral, but unlike the other nobles, they knew very well to Whom they belonged. The greatest of these was the Archbishop Regnier himself, who was not alone among the bishops and abbots who had been turned to Another’s service. Except for the aging Vicar of the Western Church, Celestine IX, and a handful of recalcitrant fools clinging to the old, fading order, the Unifier now held a grip upon a majority of the influential high clergy.
The nobles and ecclesiastical powers of Avalos were just the surface of a broader transformation of loyalties occurring swiftly within many lands and kingdoms.
A large majority of the most formidable and learned that humankind had to offer had readily chosen allegiance to Him, and by extension the One that the Unifier served. A number of them constituted many of the very individuals that ruled sprawling kingdoms and expansive empires.
The Unifier had not needed to engage in arguments with many of the Kings and Emperors, much less coerce them. For the most part, away from the eyes of the slumbering masses, they had come to submit swiftly, and enthusiastically.
That the men of power and wealth could so willingly bring their rich and strong lands into His service, and that a smaller rabble of wood-dwelling primitives could so vehemently continue to oppose Him, raised His ire and indignation to a white-hot level. That they had exposed a foolish commander in His own ranks, and likely caused severe damage to the Unifier’s relations with the valuable Trogen clans, was just one more reason why the Unifier hungered ravenously for immediate vengeance.
It was no time for coercion or even subjugation. It was time for absolute destruction.
Annihilation was the only recourse that would quench the fires burning within the Unifier. The Five Realms had to be cast into a hurricane of retribution, one so powerful that they would not emerge to see any future, even one in willful submission to the Unifier.
Whether they surrendered and bowed to Him or not was no longer of any concern whatsoever. Furthermore, the extinction of the five tribes would be an unforgettable lesson to any who remotely harbored any thoughts of resistance.
The thought brought a brief surge of fiery red into His eyes, as He turned away from the sight of Avalos and slowly strode back down the steps into the bailey. When He reached the messenger, who had not moved at all in the interim, His eyes had returned back to their fathomless blue once again. “See to it that the Darroks are immediately outfitted by our craftsmen with new carriages, ones that cannot be so easily threatened by two tribesman with axes,” the Unifier stated bluntly.
“Send word to Viscount Adhemar that the Trogens must be given more authority in matters involving their own kind. I do not think that they will neglect to have Harrak-mounted warriors riding in the carriages. That will answer the presence of any defenders that the failed scouts overlooked,” the Unifier commanded in a forceful tone. A slight hint of a grin played about the Unifier’s face. “And tell the Viscount that he is then to report directly to Me, in person, and without delay.”
The Unifier grew quiet for a moment as He sifted through a few options in His mind. He settled upon a quite intriguing one.
“We will now see if the eastern Galleans can adhere to My desires better than a viscount from Avanor,” the Unifier said, articulating the words slow and purposefully. “See that the full authority of command is given over to Count Garnier IV. We will see if commands rendered in the articulations of the Langeoc will be more understandable than those given through the Langeal.”
His last words referred to the two versions of the Gallean tongue, the former spoken in the eastern provinces of Gallea, and the latter spoken in the western ones, including Avanor itself. The great Count of Talasae, Garnier IV, was one of those who spoke the eastern version, and he ruled the Gallean lands adjacent to the Five Realms. Talasae was a bountiful province, containing the powerful walled cities of Carcasse and Talasae. It was also home to some heretical religious movements that had deeply aggrieved the Western Church, as well as being a core of the region that had given rise to a newer tradition of epic poets. As if that was not enough, the area had helped give birth to a code of knightly behavior that had been closely embraced by great numbers of the elite warriors of Gallea. Count Garnier would now have a chance to become a subject of one of those epic poems.
“Make sure that it is very clear that Count Garnier unleash destruction upon all of the tribal villages, wherever they are found. Give them no mercy. Accept no surrender. No submission. Have Garnier break the chains on the army massed on the border of the tribal lands. Unleash those forces, and commence with the ground invasion. It is no longer there to influence any thoughts that the primitives might have had at submission. The sun has set upon their land and people. A new sun rises. Begin the invasion. Now go!”
The messenger bowed his head low in deference, and then placed his helm back on his head. His fingers were shaking as he adjusted the leather chinstrap, and it took him another moment to secure it. He rose to his feet, though he kept his gaze fixed to the ground as he turned and hustled back to his Harrak.
Mounting the winged steed swiftly, the guardsman wasted no time in his departure. He spurred the Harrak to lope forward and leap upward, snapping its wings down as it left the ground and began its climb back up into the skies.
The Unifier watched the messenger pass on over the outer walls of the terrace, streaking out towards the horizon as he continued to ascend higher. There was no question that the soldier would gladly hasten to his delegated task, even if predominantly motivated by the desire to flee the presence of the Unifier.
Though the day was bright and the sun unfettered, His face darkened, as if a cloud bank had swept in and cast Avanor’s great Lord into a deep shade.
The Five Realms.
Saxany.
Midragard.
One would be destroyed soon. One was facing its final test. One would be dealt with in the near future. Very little remained to stand in His way, and perhaps all three of the last significant obstacles would find their fate to be total destruction before His work was fulfilled.
The new age was coming to the world. An old order would be overthrown, even as a new one ascended, one that would give rise to a new god taking dominion over all creation. The Great War would be finally brought to its end, and Another would come to bathe the world in fire, and recreate it in His image.
The Unifier was that Power’s herald and greatest prophet, preparing His Father’s coming and unlocking the timeless gates between dimensions. He would be first before all within the new Kingdom, placed even over the greatest of the antediluvian, immensely powerful brethren that had long served that Power. With the fall of the old order would also come the fall of His Father’s great Adversary, as well as the Unifier’s hated Counterpart.
The scent of the coming victory was exhilarating to every ounce of His being, the culmination of vast ages, meticulous patience, and tremendous sacrifices and suffering. It was all within sight and grasp, a reality both tantalizing and torturous.
His eyes had now become windows upon a raging furnace, glowing hotly with an inner fire of a substance not of Ave. It was an inferno that was borne of His vision of the world to come; a world that would be immersed in oceans of fire before rising anew.
In coming days and months, the Great Prophecies would be crafted to the Unifier’s will, brought to fulfillment, and then He would be crowned as the new Son of Man. The thought made Him smile, though there was no benevolence whatsoever in His cold expression.