Enlightened Empire

"Looks like they’ve just about got things under control," Dedrick mumbled to himself as he sat back down on the new favorite spot he had created for himself. A bit off from the battle and somewhat behind the front line, he had the soldiers construct a small mound for himself to rest his weary bones. Fitted with a comfortable chair, it was the perfect spot to enjoy the mild spring breeze while his new student Paec and his soldiers were fighting for their lives within eyesight.

From what Dedrick could see, their front line had been breached in three separate spots by these over-powered cultivators who had come out of nowhere. No matter what sort of strength they had, it appeared as if it still wouldn’t stand up against modern weapons, proper tactical training, and good old numerical advantages.

When he had seen the charge and the resulting chaos, Dedrick had first wanted to help organize their back and reinforce their lines, but had soon given up when he had seen Paec handle everything by himself. The weakened front line had been stabilized with the reserves they had stashed in the back, and the few martial artists who had managed to break into their ranks had been swamped and taken down one by one.

With this, it appeared as if their enemy’s final trump card had been played in vain. Now all that was left to do was grind them down until they would finally break and rout. Without any hope of victory left, the patchy alliance would crack sooner rather than later. After all, it didn’t look like their second trump card would end up doing much.

At first glance the elephants had appeared like true beasts of war, but it turned out they were a lot smarter than the martial artists who had brought them along. While those great cultivators were squished together at the bottom of the rampart to be shot to death one by one, the elephants looked spooked by all the noise and stench and refused to even get close to the battlefield.

Wacoca had implied that the sect’s elephants wouldn’t be trained for battle, and they really, truly weren’t. With a laugh, Dedrick observed through his spyglass as the desperate trainers atop the animals cursed at the disobedient weapons beneath them and tried to whip them into compliance.

*What’s some wimpy whip even gonna do against that thing?*

The image a bit to his left only intensified his laughter. Over there, two of the elephants had been led into a flanking maneuver by their trainers, as desperate as it was pointless. Now they were stuck up to their knees in mud, without any hope of getting out ever again. In the soft soil, the heavy beasts were sinking like a stone in water. There was nothing more to fear from the monsters. Now all he could do was guess how long it would take for the coalition of sects to crack.

Just as Dedrick wanted to take his telescope back to the front to begin his guessing game, he heard another one of the elephant’s roars, this one even louder and more terrifying than the ones before it. Even as someone who had never seen these beasts before, the mercenary could tell that it was a scream of desperate anger.

By the time the screaming creature was in his sight, the elephant had begun a charge, egged on by its trainer. Maybe it had felt the whips after all, or maybe the trainers had gone for more drastic measures while Dedrick wasn’t looking, but the beasts were finally on the move. However, they weren’t moving anything like their trainers wanted.

All this time, the beasts had been stuck at the tail end of the enemy formation, while a mob had formed before them, with no organization, and with no space left in between the combatants. Any approach from the elephants had to be careful and methodical to prevent a mess. However, the beasts no longer cared about the rules of combat as they trampled the ranks of their own allies. The smile on Dedrick’s face froze to solid ice as he saw the incredible power of the monsters for the first time.

The cultivators sent flying by the creature’s giant tusks were the lucky ones. At least they were spared from the monster’s giant feet, as thick as a man’s torso, and very capable of crushing one. Not even his worst enemies deserved such a death, to be squashed under the heel of a beast. Soon enough the air was filled with panicked screams, as the little cohesion retained by the enemy troops dissolved into thin air. Finally routed, the former coalition of sects began to scatter with the wind.

However, not every part of the enemy formation was dissolved right away. A single portion of the troops had remained back, staying cohesive throughout the entire mess. Now that the battle was decided they stepped up, yet they acted in defiance of all expectations. Without remorse they turned on their own allies. As they showed the honor all Chutwa cultivators seemed to share, they closed down the paths of retreat the defenders had chosen, trapping as many as they could inside a hell between raging beasts and invisible death.

*Looks like Lady Yasimi’s plan worked out after all, huh?* Dedrick thought as he observed the banner he had seen before. It was the sigil of the Sunburst Sect, sworn enemies of the flowing water sect who had started this entire mess.

All this time, the lady of the county had planned for the Sunburst Sect to betray the others, in return for preferential treatment during the aftermath. And just as expected of turncoats, they showed their loyalties now, once everything had long been decided. All they did was give the deathblow to the already routed sects. Still, the Sunburst Sect would most likely be the only sect left inside Huetalan’s sphere of influence after this massacre.

When the ’assassin’ sent by the Sunburst Sect had surprisingly woken him up and warned him of the attack the previous night, Dedrick had already expected their betrayal, but it still didn’t sit right with him.

However, the mercenary didn’t have to care about any of this mess, or about Lady Yasimi’s plans for her husband’s lands. All he knew was that they had won the war, so he could go home soon. A warm wind came in from the coast and carried the iron smell of blood away from Dedrick’s chair. For him, it was time to return and receive his worthless accolades, while others would handle the annoying peace talks.

__________________________

"Bow before the Immortal Emperor’s might!" the servant from the capital shouted, and Brym did as requested. He bowed down in a ninety degree angle and remained perfectly still. All he could see were the even stone tiles of Chatra Huemac’s throne room as he stood there and waited for his next cue. Had he never cultivated, he would have never withstood such a harsh treatment, but Brym didn’t care. If one wanted to take the gold from others, one had to accept a bit of humiliation sometimes. So he simply remained quiet, until he heard the servant’s self-satisfied voice again.

"Raise your head and state your business, foreign guest. The emperor is magnanimous, and will thus spare his time and listen only this once."

When Brym returned to a more comfortable position, he had to control his face, lest he show a grin. Although he had already seen the ’emperor’ when he had entered, it was still a laughable sight. Besides the seat of honor stood Lord Huemac, his wives – including Corco’s sister Yasimi – as well as several high-ranking servants of the Huemac household. He had come to know all of them quite well over the few days since his arrival, and all of them offered him friendly nods, even the wives who had first considered him an ally to Yasimi and thus a threat.

However, even though he had spent a lot of time to win their favors, the most important figure was a new arrival and sat right in front of him. In the center of the hall, in the seat that would otherwise be occupied by Huemac himself, were the ’emperor’ and his servant.

There stood a eunuch, a true servant of the Immortal Palace, and kept hold of a shoddy puppet made of silk, all so it wouldn’t just flop off of its chair. From Huemac’s introduction, the puppet was supposed to represent the Immortal Emperor. Yet with all the gemstone-encrusted golden trinkets heaved onto it, the soft silk was weighed down so much the ’emperor’ looked more like a squashed dog. Somehow, the wise masters of the capital had considered this shoddy replacement a good idea, though they were bound by the empire’s laws and didn’t see any other way to circumvent them.

As an outsider, Brym wasn’t allowed to travel through the lands of Chutwa and all the way to the capital to meet the emperor, not even as a prospective tributary nation. Thus, he would have to pay his respects here in front of the substitute the empire’s most incompetent craftsmen must have fabricated over night. Somehow, Brym managed to suppress his laughter and lowered his head once again before he spoke, just like he had been instructed by Huemac and Yasimi.

"This mere mortal’s name is Brymstock Fastgrade, who has come before the Immortal Emperor as the ruler of the Kingdom of Britain," Brym began. Though his Chutwa was shoddy, he had prepared his speech for several days to appear fluent.

"This mere mortal has traveled far and wide to meet with the great Immortal Emperor, whose name rings across the horizons. And now that he has laid his eyes upon his greatness, this mortal is truly convinced in his inferiority, and in the inferiority of his lands. Thus satisfied, this mere mortal wishes for himself and his subjects to fold into the benevolent embrace of the Immortal Emperor, and thus wishes pay tribute to the great Chutwa Empire. Forever may its shine radiate across the world."

After his phony speech was over, Brym followed the instructions he had practiced with the local lord ever since his arrival, as he performed another complicated series of bows and steps. At some point during the proceedings, he handed his gifts over to the ’emperor’ by laying them to ’his’ feet. Thus, he had signified the submission of the fictional kingdom of Britain beneath the heel of the Chutwa Empire.

Although Brym played the role of Britain’s young king, the position didn’t come with too many perks beyond a short vacation in Chutwa and a phony crown. Still, he had been forced to take on the role, since they had been low on potential candidates. After all, anyone from Medala would look too similar to those from Chutwa, so they couldn’t represent the king of a far-off land. In the end, they could only chose an Arcavian. With a choice left between him, the always busy Bombasticus and the always grumpy Dedrick, Corco’s hand had been forced, and Brym’s hands had been tied.

At least the young king had managed to finish up most of his business in the northern kingdoms of Medala before he had been sent to play phony king for the locals, and the Chatra Huemac and his manor had been more than welcoming towards the man whose arrival promised such great wealth to them. Still, as far as he could tell, this would remain his only trip to Chutwa.

After the war of Hueatlan, Huemac’s house had wiped out almost all independent influences inside his territory. Now, the local lord reigned with almost total authority, which also meant that their smuggle business under the guise of a tributary status could run without interruptions from now on. With the situation stabilized, there was little reason to return to the rule-laden lands of Chutwa, something Brym was glad to hear.

With a fake smile, the fake king held out both of his hands to receive the seal that would mark his fake kingdom as a real tributary of Chutwa, and would open the doors to Chutwa’s treasures for them.

However, Brym’s real smile hid behind his fake one. After this entire affair was done, after over a year stuck with various trade deals in the north, he would finally travel to Saniya, his new home, and reunite with his big brother. From the letters the ghosts had handed to him, it appeared as if his big brother Corco was eager to set a big plan in motion, and it appeared as if Brym was the best man to help him with the job. Giddy like a child, Brym could hardly wait.