The Great Siege of Radasanth (FQ Main thread)

[Storm Veritas]

It was deep nightfall before any answers began to trickle into the general, who sat up at a desk formed of slate and deadfall timber that his faithful troops had fashioned him. They generally traveled light – tucking furniture in their traveling gear meant one less cannon, or a few months of food for a fast-wavering soldier. Storm’s age reminded him of the hardship of sitting long on an uneven seat, as a howl from his lower back made its way between his ears. Undeterred, he continued to squint and scratch at the paper with his pen, doing his best to write by the dim light of a few fat, slowly melting candles.

To the Foul Tyrants of Radasanth,

Congratulations on your lengthy and profitable careers. I tip my hat to the opportunists, and presume that your collective corruption is more likely due to the preservation of self-interest than the perversion of the public good. A simple part of me can understand and share some of that natural instinct, as we all seek our own best ends.

Today, you have an opportunity to continue this voyage. I invite the entire Parliament (all forty-four of you, of course) to march south from the gates of Radasanth. My envoys will meet you, and escort you directly to Tylermande, where you will be given your choice of relocating to the country of your choice, Corone notwithstanding. Your direct families can even travel with you, a one way, fully subsidized ticket to a new and peaceful life.

As I’m sure you understand, Corone and Radasanth deserve better than what system exists today. A ruling class of the wealthy, who write rules for the wealthy, and exclude the masses from participating in legislation and their own pursuits of happiness. You may have even convinced yourselves of your own basic decency.

The Brotherhood of the Castigars have come to wrest power from you. The people of Radasanth will once again have a say in their own affairs and the propagation of prosperity. Our troops lie just outside your gates, and are fed, rested, ready, and plentiful. Your scouts can confirm what your eyes hope are deceit; soldiers, archers, cavalry, cannoneers, siege weapons and giants. Horror has arrived at your door; do not presume your foil-armed tribesmen will keep you safe.

For the sake of your people, evacuate peacefully. Save yourselves, and save people unnecessary conflict. As co-executor of the Brotherhood of the Castigars, I am pleased to offer your Parliament 72 hours to complete this evacuation. Anything short of full compliance is an act of war, and will be treated as such.

I sincerely hope to usher you painlessly to a lovely life on Ettermire, Raiera, or the lovely island coast of your choosing. Your other choice will prove significantly more distasteful.

Storm Veritas

He finished signing without an edit, the scouring sounds of sharp folds followed by a satisfying-if-masochistic burn of his fingers as he pressed his thumb into the candlewax and made his personal, forensic mark on the paper in a thick oval. The faint odor of tobacco was reignited when he had finished wrapping the paper in waxcloth for safe delivery.

“M’Lord!?” A hand floated aimlessly through the aperture at the front of the tent. The messenger had clearly been informed of Storm’s proclivity to find himself in any combination of distressed states.

“Come in, come in.” The aging wizard slowly stood, feeling his vertebrae pop in place as he stretched and turned to the door. As always, a hint of suspicion, as any messenger held the possible dual role of assassin. He smiled regardless, his head disguised in a wreath of pipe smoke.

The near-boy that popped through was no assassin. It was Leaf, a faithful little runner and excellent spy. Thin and waifish, the lad was no more than fifteen, and looked as wide at the waist as a grown man was at the thigh. His head was covered in wildly tousled and vibrant black hair, a color Storm missed deeply and would never again enjoy.

“Two words, m’Lord.” The boy stared at his feet for answers and patiently awaited the nodding approval of the lethal general. Flattered by the fear, Veritas gestured for the lad to sit on the felled maple trunk that made his seat.

“Catch your breath my boy, and have at. You drink?” Almost instinctively, the wizard had found his way to a bottle of whiskey, feeling the burn run down his throat. It was more fiery and potent than the honey-meads he preferred, but it held a potent punch and packed tightly. He lifted the bottle in the general direction of the messenger after finishing his own pull from the glass.

“Th… thank you m’Lord.” The boy looked scared to drink or refuse, which was of course a difficult position to land. He opted to drink, taking an amateurish sip where he tried and failed to hide his disdain for the venomous bite of whiskey. Nodding and feigning a smile, he summarily returned the bottle to a laughing Storm Veritas.

“Two words, m’Lord. One, the wagon towards the front gate is packed and ready. General Brackett packed it just as you instructed, as he told me to tell you.” A confused look governed Leaf’s face.

”He told me to tell you!? Trip over that one, my little philosopher?

“Second, our men intercepted what we thought was a spy last evening. He claims he is from Shinsou Von Osiris’ camp, and we have verified his information. He has traveled with them since before Tylermande, it appears. Shinsou is located some ten miles west, but can march for siege within the day.”

Leaf was scared, and Storm saw this. The battle hardened wizard was no mentor; Storm’s talents were too immense to presume the same sort of mortality a frail boy would suffer. If not the mentor, he could serve as protector.

“One last run, my boy. Give my note to the head guardsman at Radasanth’s gate. Go unarmed, and let General Brackett know to prep the welcome wagon to arrive in the morning. You don’t need word back here; they won’t be afforded to answer before giving the note to council, and you wouldn’t be allowed there. Run from Radasanth to Shin’s camp; bring his man if you need. Tell my friend Shinsou that we assault in two days.”

~~~~~~

Moments later, the boy was off, moving in the dead of night towards Radasanth, which lingered only a mile or before them. Storm ambled down to the white-stubbled Seamus Brackett, who was up, sitting outside his tent and looking up at the red star, now larger than before.

“I think she’s coming for us, General. The grand judge to weigh our deeds.” Seamus spit to the starlit grass at his side, a lipful of tobacco producing the thick brown juice.

The electromancer squatted beside his old friend, listening to the cheer-chirp of crickets break an otherwise quiet night. “Well, if the gods are coming for us, then I’m glad we’ve got a show for them. Besides, I’m pretty sure your old ass is hallucinating, because that star doesn’t look bigger than it did at dusk.” There was discomfort as Storm shuffled his feet, neither veteran entirely convinced of his optimistic view.

“Leaf told me the welcome wagon is ready?”

Seamus rolled his eyes out of sight of the magician. These were ugly deeds. He glared over at the large coach, a massive wagon drawn by six oxen, loaded shoulder to shoulder. The empty carriage shined in the starlight as a freshly waxed woodpane adorned the entire interior. Flowers of every sort were stuffed in the windowboxes around the coach. Only the most keenly trained nose would discern the scent of black powder jammed a full hand deep through the entire false floor and second ceiling of the wagon.