Chapter 65: Second Chance Romance (Patreon)

Willem woke up with tired eyes, blinking them open. When he looked down at himself, he saw silken pajamas… and more than that, body heat behind. He turned back, wondering if he was having just another dream or an accident with someone. When he turned, he was staring at himself, who watched with drowsy blue eyes all the same.

“AH!” Junior shouted, pushing off the bed and falling down to the marble tiles loudly. He nearly got tangled up in the blanket, but managed to reorient himself and scrabble to his feet quickly.

“What’s the matter?” Willem asked, comporting himself. “Hate mirrors?”

“By the goddess…” Junior sighed, then looked around. “We’re in the Eye of Sovereigns, aren’t we? It’s a mental space, like that artifact that Suzanne used.”

“You sound sad. I can hold your hand if you want,” Willem said, rising to his feet. “Be just like old times.”

“If you want to end up like Hans, sure,” Junior threatened.

“The more fervently you deny your feelings, the stronger they become,” Willem mused, fully collected.

They were in a very decadent marble bedroom, inlaid with gold and spotted with luxuries at every corner. While the architecture looked somewhat similar to that of the royal palace, it was older and much less refined. He supposed there must’ve been some improvements since the day of Lazzaro the Twin-Soul.

The doors to the room burst open. “Your Majesties!” said a sickly-looking attendant, who paused to catch his breath. “News from the north.”

The man paused, and both Willems said in annoyance, “Keep talking.”

“The Lord of the Blue Sky decapitated the emissary that you sent,” the attendant said, his words interspersed with harsh breaths. “His horde has crossed into the grasslands. They… they razed an entire village to the ground, Your Majesties, leaving only lands behind for their herds to graze. This was only in the first day!”

***

“If I might ask, Your Majesty…” Galahad said, watching as all of the various contestants crowded around the Eye of the Sovereigns, their life energy in abundant display on the grand rock. It seemed like a grand ritual.

“Ask,” Arnoud permitted.

“Can you tell me what the trial of the Eye of the Sovereign involves?” Galahad looked over. “Soon enough, the entire world is going to know precisely what it does. I believe that it’s fair to disclose that information, now that the trial is ongoing.”

“Hmm.” Arnoud took a deep breath and sighed. “When the trial begins… you experience the greatest crisis that Lazzaro the Twin-Soul endured during his reign: the chaos wrought by the Lord of the Blue Sky, the greatest khagan that ever lived. His horsemen had already torn through countless other realms, bringing to heel the mightiest empires of the day. In the time, Ravenveld was only a minor but wealthy kingdom of the region. One of many.”

Galahad nodded. “I know it well.”

“No,” Arnoud said, closing his eyes. “You don’t. If you think I am cruel, barbaric… if you think the Avarians are a foe worth fearing… then you haven’t beheld a horseman of the Horde of the Blue Sky, bearing down on you with their bows of aura. Even to this day, no one has been able to replicate their feats of utilizing aura in archery. And there were thousands of those horse archers.

“And the crisis extends deeper than that,” Arnoud continued. “The Lord of the Blue Sky attempted to ruin the realm by sheer virtue of his numbers. He wanted to tear everything apart, ensuring that even if he couldn’t win he would leave the realm destitute. He refused to leave any survivors alive. It could be called nothing less than a genocide.”

Galahad listened to all of that patiently, then stopped for a moment to consider things. “And… did you win, Your Majesty?”

“I learned that sometimes sacrifices were necessary for the sake of victory. Lazzaro’s life was an excellent teacher.” Arnoud took a deep breath, thinking back on the memory. “And… I learned things from the Lord of the Blue Sky, as well. More and more, though… I’m wondering if…” The king trailed off, then shook his head. “Never mind. Nothing.”

Galahad nodded, processing. “But how long will we be here, actually? I mean, how long can it take to fight off an invasion? Months? Years?”

“It takes a day,” Arnoud said. “Time flowed differently in the Eye of the Sovereigns. Everyone will be assessed at the end of the day, both for how thoroughly they defeated the Lord of the Blue Sky, and for how well they handled the subsequent economic recovery and consolidation of shattered territories.”

“And for the people that fail?” Galahad asked.

“Lazzaro himself will pass judgment,” Arnoud said. “Or at least something akin to what he was.”

***

Willem Senior and Willem Junior stood alone before a map, peering down at the territory of Ravenveld. It was a great deal limited compared to what it was today.

“So… there are well over fifty thousand saddle jockeys streaming down into this territory,” Willem said,

Junior nodded. “Right.”

“And among them, there are at least a thousand that can use a technique called the ‘aura bow,’ which essentially turns them into mounted cannons,” Willem continued. “They can break through castle walls in a matter of minutes, rendering essentially any fortification, natural or otherwise, moot.”

“As I understand it,” Junior confirmed, scratching at his neck.

“We’re outnumbered—they have at least twenty thousand more troops than we do, and they’re cavalry. On top of that, from what I read of those history books that Baptiste lent to me, the person leading them was one of the single best military commanders of his day.”

“And that’s why Lazzaro made it his priority to kill the khagan,” Junior confirmed. “With that, his great horde shattered beneath its own weight. He was the only one holding it together. And with the two of us here, we can assassinate him far easier.”

“You want me to learn how to swing a metal stick?” Willem said contemptuously.

“Why not? It’s overdue. We might as well manipulate the abilities of this artifact to learn something valuable,” Junior said.

Willem frowned. “Why is everyone so eager to see me slam my hard stick against other men’s hard sticks?”

“You’ve got to polish up on your swordplay to instruct Hans. Or… perhaps the Red Raven.” Junior said. “It’s been sixty years since you’ve ‘fought.’ You’ve got to relearn when to thrust, when to parry, and when to just let it happen.”

“Hmm. It’s not fun when you’re comfortable with it,” Willem pouted.

Junior nodded. “If you’re done with the jokes… back to the matter at hand. Lazzaro killed the khagan. Afterward, numerous other horse lords split his troops and ravaged the neighboring realms, establishing their own independent polities,” he pointed out, leaning over the map. “Providing opportunity for Lazzaro to come in and restore order,” Junior confirmed.

“Conquer them,” Willem rephrased.

“Lazzaro didn’t conquer them,” Junior disagreed. “He increased their level of unfreedom. He established their dependence.”

“Good lord. You have been listening to me talk for too long, haven’t you?” Willem marveled. “I was hoping that I’d be able to gain some actual perspective on Lazzaro the Twin-Soul. Something that might actually help us.”

“I was hoping to kill thousands,” Junior said with a faint smile.

“Well, you’ve got the Aryan look,” Willem admitted.

“In my mind, this seems simple,” Junior continued. “You let me handle the army, while you stay at home and make sure the books are cooked right.”

“Cooking the books is financial fraud,” Willem said. “Learn a term’s meaning before you use it. Besides, I served in the military. I’ve been dealing with guerilla warfare for well over eight years, and I know how to employ it. Know how to avoid getting shot by mounted cannons, like what those horse archers have.”

“You’ve never even swung a sword,” Junior pointed out. “Let alone faced a cavalry charge. Whereas I’ve tangled with monsters of all variety, and held my own against some of the realm’s finest warriors.”

“Don’t act like squaring off against a nomadic horde isn’t a novel experience for you, too.” Willem shook his head. “Like it or not, this is about a lot more than being able to stand up and fight. We need a comprehensive plan for the whole kingdom, not just for one battalion or one squad. The whole kingdom needs to be mobilized. I’d propose printing some photos of Uncle Sam and posting them around, but that won’t do us much good when half of these people can’t even read.”

“More than half,” Junior said.

“You know what I think?” Willem looked over the map. “Forget this northern part entirely. Abandon it all, let them have it. Burn everything, evacuate all of the people that we can. Scorched earth. Set it all ablaze. Never engage in open battle. Fall back, fall back, and fall back, doing as much damage as you can with as little commitment as possible.” Willem tapped a spot—a densely-forested area. “You retreat in this direction. Meanwhile, I do what I can to rally resistance among the people. I conscript as many laborers as I can to build trenches. I know a thing or two about digging, let me tell you.”

“Trenches? To what end?” Junior asked.

“We make a kill zone,” Willem said, tapping his finger on the edge of that forested area. “Forget about just killing the Lord of the Blue Sky… I think we can win outright. Aura users are like firearms, a little bit,” he said. “And you have to fight fire with fire.”

Junior crossed his arms and walked around the room. “That’s all well and good, but I don’t think we should be trying anything novel. I think that we should just do what Lazzaro himself did—imitate it in exactitude.”

“I’m just going off what I was taught,” Willem said. “If it’s an even fight, or a fight with a disadvantage, you don’t fight. You fall back until you’re in a position where you have an advantage, and then you murder the hell out of them. You burn everything, everyone in your path. You leave nothing to give them quarter.”

“You almost sound eager,” Junior said.

“Well… hell.” Willem rolled his shoulders. “This used to be my element. Then, I got old.”

Junior walked right up to Willem. “And if I offered to teach you how to use aura… would you take that opportunity?”

Willem turned his head away, thinking. He paced around the strategy room, contemplating it all.

“Don’t have anything else better to do,” Willem admitted, then looked over. “Just the basics?”

“Just the basics,” Junior promised.

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