The Drums of War
10th of Midsummer, 12529 D.E.
Silver Wilds of Anciart
Tanya's Retreat
A few days had passed, and I had gotten a better idea of my very confusing existence through some of Urie's rather dubious copies of old texts.
For one, the term 'human' doesn't exist here, or if it does, it isn't well known. Indeed, the divide between the Villagers and Illagers seems to run deep, deep enough for them to see each other as a different species to each other… despite being able to have children with each other. Then again, my previous world's history was not much different, and with even smaller differences.
Another thing is how… religious they are about the separation between the two of them. Much of the distinction seems to be how they view conflict, with the Villagers having been encouraged by the 'Sister' to practice Peace as much as they can, to their own detriment it seems, and the Illagers being encouraged sometime after to indulge in Violence against the Villagers by the 'Brother.' Perhaps some sort of sibling rivalry made them distinct? The books I have… aren't that clear on who the Sister and Brother were.
Although, I should be happy with even getting any books at all.
I must've gotten lucky for once, or perhaps Being X decided to hatch some long term scheme, because the first person I've encountered, or rather the first person to find me, was a traveling Scholar, carrying with him an all-too convenient amount of knowledge and information, despite him being an apprentice Scholar of Magicka. Which is what people call mana here, though it might actually be the correct term for this form of it.
He also thought of me as some kind of ancient being, creatively called an 'Ancient'. I tried to dismiss that idea, but I don't think he's entirely gotten what I was trying to say. And yet, the description of what these Ancients were fits far too well for me to entirely ignore it.
According to Urie, Villagers and Illagers are able to use Magicka much the same way I do… except doing anything complicated, for example blacksmithing, takes years of training in not only knowing how to be a Blacksmith, but also years of practice using Magicka in Blacksmithing. The reward, however, is well worth it, as people specialized in blacksmithing or similar occupations are able to make much higher quality products once they master their Crafting. Which is what I called construction previously.
Ancients, on the other hand, were able to construct, or 'craft', entire suits of armor with far less cost to Magicka reserves than what a blacksmith could do, while imbuing the armor itself with magic. Furthermore, the Ancients had yet another advantage, in Recipes, which I had been calling construction methods. A Villager or an Illager Blacksmith using Magicka still has to work the armor into what they want, while an Ancient simply calls upon the armor's Recipe and uses that to create it without much thought at all.
Infact, the 'Crafting Table' I had used to… craft my tools and various items ever since I figured out how it worked was something Villagers and Illagers had to study in order to learn, while Ancients had zero problem with it, only needing a little bit of teaching to know how to use them. In a way, the… Crafting Tables are much like early computation orbs, if you consider the Recipes to be spells.
In a way, it wasn't incorrect. Every Ancient weapon or tool is recognizably different from what present day smiths can forge, and of a quality that smiths here can't replicate. Looking at some of Urie's tools… that makes sense. But there was just one issue with all of this…
What little information existed confirmed that even the Ancients drained Magicka when they crafted or deconstr- mined anything. Meanwhile, my existence lines up with everything else… except for the drain on my reserves. I didn't feel the slightest hint of any of my reserves draining from Crafting or Mining, although perhaps I just need a second perspective. Unfortunately, Urie isn't as capable in Magicka, only enough to be a Scholar in it.
I am also unsure if I can trust the information we have. After all, what Urie has is the account of a long-dead Scholar from much further back in history than what my previous lives could even consider our recorded history. There's a very noticeable gap after the last Era the Ancients were present in, and I can only assume how much the historical record was twisted in the meantime.
Even with all that, I was still clueless on a few things. Namely, Enchantment, which is yet another form of magic I have to learn more about, and the mystery of my Silver mana. Which is apparently what drew Urie in, as several of the Magicka users he spoke to along the way were able to feel my mana from a distance.
That was… very concerning, to say the least. It meant that Urie was not only not going to be the last person to find me (which I doubted would've been the case anyways, considering what Being X could throw at me) and that I had to prepare for that. Fortunately, I also seem to be causing more monsters to spawn, which is beneficial in the short term. Though I have a slight worry about the lack of actual evolutionary development if the same creatures have been manifesting in the world and occasionally just vanishing back into nothing. Or would it really matter here?
Whatever the case may be, I'll have to brush up on what the local geopolitical situation is before I make any quick decisions. Hopefully, the monsters should be a screen for myself, until I know what I should do.
Perhaps Urie has some knowledge from his travels?
Date: 15th of Midsummer, 12529
The sound of the perpetually soft sea breeze echoed through the night, as the stars twinkled above us.
I wonder if space is the same in this world, or if it's different?
"Do your people know what lies up there?" I asked my recent acquaintance as he set out a new map, still looking up at the night sky. I can't help but feel like the moon looks… too big. Like as if there's something more about it that I can't quite see.
"It's just the sky, isn't it?" Urie responded. Until recently, I thought he was in his twenties, but it turns out that he was only eighteen. Perhaps I really do have modern beauty standards… That, or he simply wasn't able to get a bath like he could now.
"Perhaps." I looked down, watching as the map unfurled. Perhaps I'll have a chance to find out if there is a space here.
The map showed the peninsula that, if this world really is similar to my old worlds, would be in the ocean. It also didn't make much sense, to be honest. A silver-rich forest region in northern Iberia- or rather, Ondaberia- separated from the rest of the world by a desert stretching from sea to sea? Sounds like some fantasy realm.
Not too surprising, considering the rest of the world's nonsense.
"Obviously this region is too underdeveloped for any real borders to form, but then again, there's hardly anyone here. I'd compare it to some of the local continents around Anciart, with some not even having the Manor system that this place has." Urie explained, which I raised an eyebrow at.
"How many continents are there? Wouldn't they be too far away for people to reach?" I asked, to which I merely got a shrug.
"Don't know. Hundreds, probably-" What. "But I don't think anyone would really know. No-one's found an end to the world, so as far as we know there isn't one. You can travel in one direction and cross several continents the size of Anciart, and there'd still be many more ahead of you." What. "So, we just assume it's endless."
"I…ha… Alright, whatever. Can you tell me about my neighbors then?" I'll have to think about what that could mean. If this world really is infinite… No, it can't be. Right?
He tapped an unmarked section on the map, the smallest one that I could see. "We are here. Nobody controls this part, but all three of the lords around us have tried to claim it for themselves. Each time, the other two lords kicked them out. Not like there's any reason to occupy this stretch of the Wilds. No villages to extract wealth from, and the monsters have always been thicker in these parts. Apparently more now than ever."
"...And I chose to sit down right in the middle of it," I sighed, finally realizing how poorly I had chosen my home. "Well, what can you tell me about these lords?"
Urie pointed to the one directly east of our position. "This one is actually two lords, a sister-brother confederation, who chose to combine their power instead of squabbling over their father's domain after he died a couple decades ago. Arguably one of the most tolerant of the Illager lords, even by some standards outside of the Wilds. I've actually met them. However, while they are one of the more important lords, they aren't the strongest."
I shouldn't hold my 21st century ideals as what exists in this world, but if they are anywhere close to them, I think I could get along. I thought, as I brought out a loaf of eternally fresh bread and a knife, and began slicing. Urie raised an eyebrow at that, but continued on nonetheless.
He moves his finger over the second and largest patch of the Wilds, marked 'Embelor.' "Lord Embelor gets the title of being the strongest Illager lord in the Wilds. I've heard stories of his rise to power, which was around the same time as Mistal and Prican's ascension. He swept through a large number of minor lords, and doesn't have many peer Lords to contest his strength. From what I've heard, he's also rather cruel, even to Illager kind."
Typical for the time period, I suppose.
The explanation continued with his finger moving over to the region on the coast. "Lord Borst. The Old Guard of the Coast. He's got several decades of rule under his belt, and used to hold more land than he does now. You can thank Embelor for that. From what Mistal and Prican told me, he's a bitter bastard, but one that allows for some outsiders to 'visit'. By that, I mean he's actively engaging with the merchants from the Bay of Biscony and Northern Seas, despite what the inland lords would like."
Ah, and the elder who refuses to see things for what they are. I remember dealing with a few employees like that. I suppose my first life's parents would've fallen into that category too, since they fell into a black company. Although, he is open to trade… I took out a prepared piece of pork (can't figure out how to get ham out of the pigs yet, so pork will do) and began slicing it up as well. Never was one for sandwiches before my second life, but they weren't that bad. When I could have them. The front didn't leave much time for sandwich-making…
He leaned back and crossed his arms, and began to finish his explanation. "All want this small patch of forest, mostly for pride and denying it to the others, but I personally believe that they all know it would be useless to them."
I looked at the map, taking a moment to process the information. If I had known I was in a contentious area, I wouldn't have settled down here. History from either of my lives is full of examples of useless wars being ignited over small patches of land, wars that lasted far too long. Infact, I was in one of them. The sensible, logical move would be to leave, but considering the actual worth of my local area… No, there won't be a war over this land for some time. But still, I should make sure that I'm safe for long enough, and gather enough information about the rest of the world to know where I should move to.
"Wars have been fought because of less. Are you sure there wouldn't be a war because of this area?" I asked. He shook his head.
"I'm certain that they wouldn't all fight over something so foolish. If they haven't gotten into a three-way war before, they certainly won't now." Urie said dismissively.
"What about the East?" I asked. I may be sitting on the fuse of a powder keg, but I'd like to know how much I need to worry about it going off for other reasons than what I'm sitting on.
"The Eastern Wilds is still a bundle of unlit TNT, but simply with different actors. Prican takes more action here, and he has secured a pact with the southernmost Illager lord in the Wilds, Lord Hirst." He pointed his finger at the region marked under this "Hirst", emphasizing the very end of it. "His tolerance is similar to that of Mistal and Prican, and he's done the same as Borst has with trade, though moreso with the southern Ondaberians and the Saheritan Seas. Nominally, he's allied to Prican, and by extension Mistal, but they only bring that up when it comes to other Eastern lords."
My eyes were drawn to the distance between the two allied lords. In between them, another lord controlled a large portion of the land in the Eastern Wilds. Before Urie could continue his explanation and fill my thoughts with more worries of impending doom, I held out what I had been working on. A sandwich.
Urie looked at the (in my view) pitiful combination of pork and bread, before looking at me.
"What did you…" He started to say, before grabbing the sandwich in confusion. "...what is this?"
"... A sandwich?"
Wordlessly, he took the offered meal, inspecting the item that I now realize may not have even existed in this world until now. I took a bite of one I made for myself, and he hesitantly followed.
"...huh."
"Continue, please." I said, while mulling over the information I had. If the Confederation and Hirst have an alliance, then the lord in between them would seek an alliance of their own. And assuming that section in the far northeastern corner of the wilds would be similarly trapped… This is starting to paint a picture reminiscent of some medieval wars, and some from later periods. Webs of alliances, disputed lands between all of the webs, and positioned just right to absolutely devastate the Wilds.
In other words, something akin to the war I got myself dragged into.
"Above Hirst is another lord, probably the oldest lord without a superior. Lord Murst is probably well over a century old, perhaps nearing his second. He's ruled for many years, and isn't keen on falling to what he sees as 'the Sibling's degeneracies'. In other words, not quite tolerant, not quite cruel." Urie took another bite of his sandwich. "Oh, and he's allied to Lord Borst."
That traps Embelor then. Flanked by the old guard on the east and west, and in the north Mistal and Prican loom. If Hirst has a navy, that traps them in the south. The reasonable approach would be to find a like-minded, or at least intelligent enough to compromise, ally. And the only independent Lord left…
"I assume the last one is allied to Embelor?" I pointed to the territory I had noticed earlier in the corner, one marked the deepest shade of black.
Urie nodded, then grimaced. "Yes, and perhaps the cruelest of them all. Lord Azum hardly gives mercy to even those of his own kind, let alone Villagers. His cruelty is not stricken down for the fact that him and Embelor are related, and his own martial prowess. Worse, I hear tales of him gaining hidden support from the Black-Eyed King in Arlainz."
"So the Wilds are split between three power blocs, all of which have differing views on how to run the Wilds, and, if I had to guess, they all hate each other?" I concluded, gaining my answer with a nod. "I think I can tell what's going to happen."
"Oh?" Urie asked with a mouthful of the sandwich. Why is he eating it so fast? Are there monsters around?
"The positioning is perfect for a total war to kick off, as the fear of being completely outpaced by one alliance winning over another will cause the third alliance to declare war on the winning, losing, or even both of the alliances. And this land we're in?" I pointed at the small patch that was, for whatever reason, disputed. "All three of the Lords that want this land are in a separate alliance. When they inevitably go to war over this land…"
Urie looked down, then scrunched his face. Was he still not getting it?
"They wouldn't. It'd be a huge waste, and it would risk their Manors being taken, or worse, burned to the ground." He said. "It'd be decades before they even risk their lives on it. Most of them are young for Lords, Embelor's not even past sixty."
"I give it five years." I said. Unlike him, I knew the irrationality of humanity. And Being X. "Maybe ten, if they work out some sort of deal, but the aggressive nature of these lands, from what you have told me atleast, means even a simple scouting party would result in war. Especially if it's been awhile since the last war."
"...I'll take your word for it, but I doubt it'll be that soon." Urie said, wanting to say more before I cut him off.
"There's more factors at play here that I don't know about, obviously, but from my own experience," I said, then leaned forwards to emphasize my point. "Even the most irrational of causes will be enough to start a war that would consume entire continents in blood."
Date: 9th of Summerfall, 12529
To Lord Embelor, First of His Name.
My Lord,
The weak-hearted Confederates were spotted within the wildlands we call our own. Our watchmen reported them scouting out the terrain, looking for something. It is likely they are using it as hunting grounds, in direct violation of our agreement with them and old Borst.
This act is clearly a move by that wretch Mistal and must be countered! Sending them scurrying back to their dens will make sure they don't come back, and Borst will be thankful for clearing those whelps off, and too scared to send his own men!
I, [the ink was smudged here] of the Western Fire Guard, advise an immediate reaction force be deployed into the Northern Wildlands and-
Archive Note: The rest of the letter was burned, and was found in the ruins of the Embelor Manor in 137 S.E.
Date: 25th of Spring's Dawn, 12531
To Lord Mistal II and Lord Prican V.
My fellow Lords,
You and Embelor's repeated violation of our previous agreement over the disputed land has gone too far. Since you children cannot listen, I will formally be enforcing my claim on the disputed lands.
However, I will not attack your villages or manors, as they do not fall within the disputed lands. If you do not conduct village and manor raids on us, we will continue to hold off on raids on yours.
May the blood we shed over this land be the foundations for greater wealth from it.
Respectfully,
Lord Borst VII
Archive Note: Recovered in 135 S.E.
Date: 10th of Middle Spring, 12531
"This has gotten out of hand."
The hall was quiet, save for the endless shuffling of nervous Villager scribes. Nearly two years ago, Lord Mistal had ordered expeditions into the disputed territory, with orders to keep themselves as covert as possible, to search for the Scholar that went in and had yet to return. She thought they were being lost to the masses of monsters, yet she was wrong.
Apparently, they slipped up. Lord Embelor had seen them. Of course, instead of asking why they were there, he decided to use it as an excuse to hunt down the scouting parties! And what did that result in?
Borst has declared the territory his once again and moved on it, and Embelor has begun mustering greater forces. There wasn't even a chance for us to respond! Mistal thought to herself. A series of bad events, caused by Embelor's lack of diplomacy (or care for his fellow Illager, nevermind the Villager!) and Borst's stubborn support to the old ways.
"Sending a messenger now would be too dangerous. Inform my brother of the situation that has developed, and begin rallying men for war. Make sure to issue a statement that we did not intend to incite a war, and that we were merely searching for a person of interest within these lands. It isn't much, but it'll show that we did not intend to cause a war later." Lord Mistal declared to her bureau, issuing smaller ones concerning future manor foodstocks and early measures to protect her villages and manors.
Fifteen Manors and Thirty-two Villages. The pair of numbers echo in her mind once again, followed by Prican's pair of numbers. In total, about Twenty-seven Manors and Seventy-seven Villages made up the Confederation's realm. A thousand Illagers could immediately be called to service across the Confederation, with a few thousand more in cases of true war. More if they pressed the villages into the conflict. But that would not happen.
The Villagers under the Confederation know of the cruelty other lords will unleash for reasons both for cruelty's sake and pragmatic reasoning as well.. They also understand that the two are not mutually exclusive. Should the war last a few years, and when Embelor inevitably breaks the non-aggression again villages Borst suggested, the border villages are likely to be deserted.
How many will die?
Mistal's thoughts continued to run with the potential bloodshed as reports were written out by the (peacefully) employed Villager scribes and menials. Skirmishes are likely to happen first, between small groups that don't even break the single digits. Then, larger parties, likely led by lesser heirs of manors, then hundreds of Illager men and women, meeting in horrific forest massacres that leave no room to even start a rout.
And the sieges of Manors, and the Village raids…
"Inform Lord Hirst that the defensive pact may come into play after all. But only if Lord Murst is brought in. We have no need to let the East burn aswell…"
Unless they see fit to burn too…
Date: 16th of Cloudsmarch, 12533
Mysta looked at the group of villager refugees from Azum's land from the door as they began to ready themselves to continue on their journey. A mixture of pity and rage swirled within her, pity for the people wrongly accused of treason, and rage at Azum's cruel paranoia. These were supposed to be his Villagers, and yet…
"The madman strikes his own people, and leaves them with no other choice but to follow the beacon west." Her brother said as he came from the door behind her, standing right next to each other. "Why does this group not want to settle in our lands?"
"They seek the Silver glow. And that scholar boy. Apparently he stayed under the late chief's roof while he healed from an injury. Caused by Lord Azum's men aswell…" Lord Mysta said, holding her thumb to her mouth. "You'll have to muster men from your lands. Request for Villagers to arm themselves."
"And break their sacred Peace? Sister, you know how difficult it is to convince even the most adventurous Villager to do so."
She shook her head. "Carrying a weapon does not make you Violent. Defending yourself from harm is not Violence. What you're thinking of is the lies the Brother told the Villagers, to weaken his fallen sibling's creation before he too fell."
"And yet the Villagers buy it all the same." Lord Prican interrupted. She could only sigh in disappointment.
Behind them, the door of the Manor opened and promptly closed once the Illager exited. The Illager in question bowed when the twin Lords looked at the young Evoker prodigy in traveling robes.
"My lords," Istarte said. "I wish you well in your battles, though I still do not know why you sent me on this journey. What am I doing with less than fifty Villagers, when I could be aiding you in other ways?"
Prican looked at his sister, letting her take the lead over her favored Evoker. "These Villagers are heading west, to the disputed territory that caused this war, seeking that glow that the Scholar followed years ago. I want you to join them and look for that missing Scholar, and ensure they survive. It's the least we can do to help them."
Istarte looked confused at Mysta's explanation, though her expression lightened at the mention of the Scholar. After a moment, she replied. "Why am I supposed to help them though?"
"They're victims of Azum's latest fit of cruelty. Apparently, in his bid to enter our war and expand the bloodshed eastward for his ally Embelor, he struck his own villages along our border. He thought they were betraying him for us. Whether or not he actually thought that or just wanted an excuse…" Lord Prican answered, tailing off at the end.
It wasn't the first time the Twins had to deal with the cruelty of Lord Azum during their joint reign. He was supposed to be a subordinate lord, but broke away upon their father's death. In that time, he ruled as if he was a tyrant from thousands of years ago. Only through force had they cowed him and gotten a trade route through his lands.
I'm never going to get Pralenin's next journal, am I? Mysta thought, expressing it with a sigh.
"...Right. I still don't understand why, but I doubt I will. If I never see you again, my lords, I hope you win this war. Perhaps with you two in charge, the Wilds will be better off. Goodbye." Istarte said, giving one last bow before passing between the two to join the refugee caravan.
The two watched as the refugees, escorted by a handful of trained men and Istarte, finished packing up and started walking towards their supposed salvation. Before they departed however, they raised a grey banner. The twin crosses of the Confederation, the Sister's in the West and the Brother's in the East. Or, atleast, a form of the Sibling's Crosses.
Prican went back inside, probably to read some history book, leaving Mysta alone with her thoughts.
How am I going to win a war for the whole of the Silver Wilds? Will I win? Will I even survive the war?
She frowned, for she couldn't tell. All she knew was that the Wilds would burn.
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