Chapter 718 - Pieces on the Board

Jasper was not a general.

Yet, he stood a mile or so away from the city, watching as tens of thousands of kobolds – a horde by anyone’s measure – advanced.  They did so with characteristic discipline.  After all, they’d been raised from birth with a distinct devotion to that all-encompassing trait. 

He understood the necessity of it all.  It made sense, in a grim sort of way.  It wasn’t so long ago that they were monsters.  Many from that generation still lived, and more than anything else, they wanted to avoid returning to that fate.  That was why they put so much emphasis on training their young to be people, to avoid the downfall that came from following their instincts, at least to the exclusion of all else. 

That was the way of regression, and they couldn’t stomach that.  Not after they’d worked so hard, after they’d sacrificed so much to give future generations of kobolds a chance to become something more than their forebears. 

To give them the chance to do just that, the kobold hierarchy inflicted a brutal training regimen upon their progeny.  Almost from the moment they hatched, they were subjected to the Halls of Affinity, where they were guided into developing as broad a set of attunements as they could manage.  Some excelled more than others, but they all reached a baseline that would turn most other races green with envy.

If the kobolds could have moved the hatchery there, they would have. 

But for good or ill, that just wasn’t possible. 

Jasper had to admit that the kobolds never did anything by half measures.  Included in that training regimen was a more mundane education, which followed from their driving need to leave their monstrous natures behind.  The ability to learn and retain information about the wider world was one of the things that set people apart, and the kobolds were devoted to that ideal.

In addition, they had the benefit of one of the most wondrous magical education systems Jasper had ever seen.  Sasha, the boarkin who’d married Pudge, was behind that endeavor, and though she was a powerful Sorceress in her own right, she’d truly found her calling as an educator.  She knew precisely how to explain things so a child could understand, and what’s more, the kobolds respected her more than most – largely because, as a beastkin, she had already shown that she could do precisely what they were trying to accomplish.

Beastkin could all trace their lineage back to beasts and monsters, after all.

Sasha had also trained many others in her methods, meaning that even if she wasn’t around – which was rare, given that she infrequently left the tower – the education could continue. 

Then there was the military training.  Jasper was no expert on warfighting, but that was what many of the veteran kobolds had become.  Over the course of a century, they’d fought so many battles that they knew precisely what worked and what did not.  And they had the humility to recognize when a strategy wasn’t working. 

In Jasper’s experience, that was more important than anything.  The kobolds didn’t approach a problem from the point of pride.  They didn’t cling to a plan after it was obviously a failure.  And they never hesitated to change course when it became apparent that something wasn’t working.

Constantly evolving while embracing a rigid doctrine of discipline – two ingredients for a powerful and overwhelming army.  The third major factor was numbers.  The kobolds met that need with aplomb, reproducing at an exorbitant rate that most monsters-turned-sapient-creatures simply could not manage. 

Thousands of new kobolds were born each day, and though it took them close to fifteen years to reach battle-ready status, they were well into the cycle.  Unless something terrible happened, their population would only continue to grow, even despite the constant losses incurred in war. 

But most impactful was a simple advantage that nobody else in the realm possessed.  The Crimson Tower was directly connected to two planes of existence.  Just because someone advanced to the Ethereal Realm, it didn’t mean that they couldn’t pass their wisdom on to those in the lower plane. 

It could not be understated how much knowledge was lost when someone ascended.  Not only that, but their guidance had proved incredibly productive – especially with the kobolds, who thought nothing of conveying the lessons they’d learned to the younger generations.  Indeed – they took pride in it, regarding it as their sacred duty. 

The result was that many bottlenecks that slowed down or halted progression were avoided altogether.  Others were mitigated through the elders’ guidance, giving the young ones an unheard-of advantage, and one they did not hesitate to embrace.

And they were effective, too. 

So far, no army in the Eternal Realm had proved capable of withstanding their might.  The Radiant Host had come the closest, forcing the kobold armies to fight for years.  Even then, they’d not be entirely annihilated, with many of their knights escaping. 

Most had simply disappeared, discarding their colors for status as mercenary bands.  Some were quite strong, too – though with their background, that should have been an expected turn of events.  The rest had fled overseas, fleeing the Crimson Tower’s locus of control.  From all reports, they’d reestablished their order by linking up with their foreign agents, campaigning forces, and old allies. 

Jasper had heard they were even more regressive than the old Radiant Host, mostly because they weren’t hampered by civilian leadership which, for centuries, had ruled the forebear of the Imperium.  Left with only the most dogged among the Radiant Host to direct them, the new version was worse than ever. 

But they were across the ocean – ten thousand miles of open seas, much of which played host to powerful monsters that could sink ships without any effort at all, which made fighting them a logistical nightmare.  They’d tried sending airships, but there was a reason so few tried such a tactic.  None had reached their destination, suggesting that they’d been destroyed. 

Either way, Jasper’s most fervent wish was that he’d been charged with executing those loathsome beings rather than attacking – unprovoked – a bunch of elven cities. 

He was under no delusion that they were innocent.  His own people had clashed with other elves so often that their cultural enmity toward their fairer skinned cousins ran extremely deep.  If she’d known what he was up to, even his mother would have approved.  Perhaps she did.

Not that she would ever say as much.  When he’d cut ties, he’d done so for good.  By going off on his own, and against her wishes, he’d ensured that he would be forever shunned by all other dark elves.  That was just his fate, which he’d eagerly accepted because it was preferable to spending another day with in that regressive place. 

Still, he couldn’t help but wonder if his family still lived.  Probably.  He’d heard no news of invasion.  Yet, so much time had passed.  Perhaps he’d still be there if his people treated their youth the same as the kobolds.  Certainly, he’d have been better off.

Regardless, the elven city in the distance was his current target, and though he disagreed with the task itself, he’d never choose to disobey.  Because he believed in the Crimson Tower. 

He just wished he still believed in Zeke.

The man was different.  The old Zeke – the one Jasper had met in those cursed mines – wouldn’t have used genocide as a valid strategy to weaken his enemies.  And it was genocide.  Jasper had been tasked with destroying whole swaths of elven society.  The adults, at least. 

The children were still off-limits, though he knew it wasn’t a choice of morality.  Rather, it was because their indoctrination was not complete.  They could still be converted from their worship of the Sun Goddess.  Besides, they didn’t contribute much when they were so young. 

It was a small mercy.

Jasper didn’t think he could have followed orders if they told him to slaughter children.  Depressingly, he also didn’t believe that doing so would make Zeke blink.  He would just do what he thought necessary.

A depressing turn transformation.

Jasper wanted to give his friend – for he still considered Zeke one of those – the benefit of the doubt.  He only knew a portion of what Zeke had endured in Hell, and even that was horrific.  From his perspective, thousands of years had passed, even if, in reality, only a century had gone by. 

And during all of it, he’d been subjected to horrific torture. He’d killed hundreds of thousands of creatures.  Some sapient.  Others bestial.  He’d died and been remade more times than he could count, and that sort of thing had to have taken a toll. 

Jasper wanted to be understanding.  He wanted to believe that Zeke wasn’t broken.  But the reality was that his friend had grown so disconnected from his humanity that he’d become something fundamentally different.  He didn’t see the cost of lives lost in pursuit of his goals.  Instead, he stood so far above everyone else that he clearly saw them as pieces on a game board. 

They weren’t people.  Just tools.

It reminded Jasper of his mother.  Though she’d never had enough power that she could willfully sacrifice entire populations just to weaken her enemies.  If she had, the world would have been a very different place. 

That was one of the things he’d always hated about her.  That manipulative, disconnected nature made her a terrible mother.  He’d always labored under overwhelming pressure.  Sometimes, it was to meet her expectations, but others, it was to adhere to cultural norms.  Regardless, it had been so repressive that he’d never felt the impulse to return. 

Even now, when he’d reached the peak of the realm and commanded one of the most feared armies in the world, he refused to go back.  Doubtless, she’d still find some reason to criticize him.  Probably that he wasn’t back home and married to some powerful woman. 

“Status?” he asked Korami, the highest-ranking general under his command.  The kobold was the very picture of propriety.  His armor shone as if freshly polished, his spear stood at the ready, and his shield hung on his arm.  It didn’t matter that they were miles away from any fighting. Korami was ready for anything.

The kobold didn’t look away from the battle’s progress as he answered, “Advancing within parameters.  We are currently three seconds behind, but that is due to unforeseen resistance from a powerful member of the community.  His fury was unanticipated.”

Jasper shook his head.

A powerful fighter probably meant someone near the peak, and his unexpected inclusion in the battle had delayed their forces by only three seconds.  Clearly, even that tiny interruption to his battle plan rankled on Korami’s pride.  Yet, that unwavering dedication to perfection was the reason more kobolds hadn’t died in the endeavor.

That reminded Jasper of the worst part of fighting a war.  So, he asked, “Casualties?”

“One-thousand, three-hundred, and twelve,” replied the general.  He had some sort of skill that let him keep track of the soldiers under his command.  At lower levels, it only gave them vague ideas, but with Korami having reached the peak, it was extremely specific. 

“So many,” Jasper said with a headshake.  “The enemy?”

“At last estimate, seventy-two thousand,” Korami answered.  “Though that number has likely climbed.  Our scouts put the total population of Cheldanis, not including the children, at just under a hundred thousand.  Accounting for the possibility of escape, our kill total should approach that number.  Soon, we will send the Spiritweavers in to gather the children and begin the process of countering their indoctrination.”

Jasper didn’t react, but a tremble went up his spine.  Over the past two months, he and his army had razed half a dozen cities, and Cheldanis was the smallest among them.  At his command, more than a million elves had been slaughtered.  And his was only one of seven armies sweeping across the land.  At that rate, it would take less than a year to rid the entire realm of the Aja’s worshippers. 

But he knew the task wouldn’t end there.  There were still two other gods that needed to die – at least according to Zeke, who hadn’t really revealed why that was the case.  After Aja, there was Oda.  Then Shar Maelaine.  Oda would be the trickiest, though there was a large contingent of kobolds that had developed a demonic attunement.  At least going into Mal’canus and slaughtering the demons who worshipped Oda would be far more palatable than killing elves.

Not for the first time, he questioned his choices.  He could have stayed in the tower, playing music and living something like the life his mother had once chosen for him.  Yet, for the same reason he’d fled his ancestral home, he couldn’t remain in the tower, safe and sound while everyone else fought for their lives. 

“Send in the second wave,” he ordered.  “I want to move on by tomorrow.”

Korami nodded, then did just that.  A wave of kobolds – greener recruits who needed seasoning – swept across the plain and to the city.  The battle would soon be over, and then, it was on to the next.