Holy War

The time had finally come. For weeks I’d been trying my hardest to avoid the inevitable conflict. I met with ambassadors, appealed our plight to the king, and preached peace among my newfound flock. The Order of the Golden Sun’s official position remained one of cautious neutrality as I continuously implored the highest members of the Church of the Great Father to more fervently condemn the attacks made by these supposed ‘fringe elements’ among their followers.

In the end, all that effort had been wasted. Inquisitors wearing the red robes of the Great Father launched a raid on the town of Ederspool, slaughtering any follower of the Order they could find. When I tried to contact the Church of the Great Father, my envoys were beheaded and disemboweled on the steps up to the Grand Citadel of the Father. I called together every priest within my authority and used the Order’s treasury to purchase the services of two mercenary companies: the Crimson Vanguard and the Sisters of Saunlan, and from there assembled our forces in the Holy Mountain.

Holy war was upon us. I’d delayed as long as I could, had hoped that war was not as inevitable as it seemed, and paid the price. Father Alton was right, I could no longer ignore my fate. If destiny wanted me to be a warlord, then a warlord I’d be.

I sat in my chambers at the head of a grand wooden table, surrounded by my council. Atlas sat to my right, seemingly very interested in a blank spot on the wall. On my left sat Lynessa and Father Alton, beyond them Ser Erik and Lewyr. Opposite them sat Astmon Jund and Vexala Ulandiori of the Crimson Vanguard and the Sisters of Saunlan, respectively.

“This war council has been called to determine our strategy in the holy war to come.” I began, “All of you have been briefed on the resources at our disposal and the religious restrictions of our fighting force. We need a gameplan, conditions of victory, a cohesive overall strategy. I want to win this war with minimal loss of life.”

“You realize that wars necessitate death?” Vexala asked in annoyance. She was a stout woman, perhaps forty, with thick black hair tied high in a long braid. “What do you expect us to do to our enemy when we meet them in battle? Ask them to lay down their arms?”

“Yes.” I said, “Sort of. Before every battle, when possible, you will offer the enemy army a chance to surrender. If they refuse, you are permitted to attack, but if our enemy surrenders, you will attempt to reach an accord, and after victory is achieved you will not loot or pillage any village or community that may have supported them. You are being paid, and hence, will not need to pillage the surrounding countryside to recoup lost profits.”

“Do you understand anything about war?” Vexala asked, “How about you leave bloodshed to us that know it as a profession and stick to your prayers. I’m sure you’re well respected by whatever god you claim to serve, but you haven’t fought in battle. Victorious soldiers have needs. You cannot just deny us our rights.”

“You are getting paid. Well.” I responded, keeping my voice level. “If you are not willing to accept the terms of my contract, we will gladly sign another mercenary company who will, and while I appreciate your commitment to the art of war as a profession, I’d appreciate if the Order is not associated with the wholesale looting of our follower’s homes.”

“In my experience, it won’t matter.” Vexala replied, “Men will worship at whatever temple’s nearby. They’ll forgive and forget soon enough afterward.”

“Regardless,” I said, “you will not be looting. Focus your energies on our enemies. Many of them are quite wealthy and should you manage to capture the Grand Citadel, all of that wealth will be yours to claim.”

Vexara gave me a gruff nod. “We will play by your terms for now.”

“I think a two pronged approach will yield the most success.” Father Alton said. “The Sisters of Saulan will advance quickly west and take the city of Gemmen, while the Crimson Vanguard will take a riskier northern advance. You’ll smash the reserves at Nordil, and then advance south, hammering the Church of the Great Father’s Inquisitor Legion against the anvil of occupied Gemmen. From there, the Grand Citadel will be alone and undefended, and a joint attack will provide an easy victory. All prisoners will be sent back here to the Holy Mountain, where the reserve legion will anchor our seat of power and ensure stability in occupied territory.”

“And who will command that army?” Astmon asked, “We have two capable commanders for the advance, but we will require a capable hand for the reserve. How do I know that my men won’t be hung out to dry on our advance?”

“That would be our Divine Speaker,” Father Alton said, “He has commanded armies, defeated Spineripper on the field of battle, and killed the Demonlord in his own lair.”

“The Legendary Hero?” Asked Vexala, “Your Divine Speaker is the Legendary Hero?”

I nodded. “Of course, I expect those of you who know bloodshed as a profession to be more than capable of completing these maneuvers."

“Of course.” Replied Astmon. He laughed. “We wouldn’t want the Legendary Hero to claim yet another victory all for himself, now would we? There’s enough glory to go around, eh?”

“I’m glad to see your enthusiasm.” I said, “Trust me, I intend to win no glory on this campaign. This conflict is purely one of necessity.”

“Are we done here?” Atlas asked, “All this talk is putting me to sleep.”

“Then take a nap.” I said to him, “We’re going to be in a lot of meetings like this. War, real war, requires more planning than combat.”

“And you’re no warrior, or have you forgotten that?” Atlas asked, “You’re not a hero, you’re not a divine prophet, you’re a man who’s in way over his head. You need to remember that, Dale. We should be focusing on returning home.”

“We can’t return home.” I replied, “How many times have we tried? I think it’s time that we accept that we’ll be stuck here for a while. We need to prepare for that, and secure a place for us in this world.”

“Good luck with that.” Said Atlas, “You’ll mess it up. You always do.”