Hope Sundered

General Zordecai’s powerful stride quickened as he led his army across the Dragonspine Mountains. He welcomed the change of scenery, so different from the hundreds of miles of flat, barren wasteland he’d just crossed.J agged peaks surrounded them, rising above the tree line like stone sentinels, bearing silent witness to their trespass.

Azrahtera’s desolate geography and scarce resources forged a harsh and unforgiving culture. To survive was to excel, and to excel was to dominate. Those less fortunate by birth or circumstance knew the oppression of slavery. The empire demanded much, and its emperor demanded more.

Zordecai climbed an outcropping to look back and gaze upon the military procession in his wake. Nearly ten thousand battle-ready soldiers, the bulk of Azrahtera’s military force, trudged onward to claim the promised spoils.

The crunching cadence of their steps against the stone path filled the air. A line of men in green and black uniforms, each bearing the emblem of Emperor Aguliss XIII upon their chests, wound through the valley like the river that had carved a similar path ages ago.

“May I have a word, General?”

Zordecai scowled. “What is it this time?” He knew he wouldn’t like what his lieutenant had to say. He never did. Varzeth’s calculating intelligence and fierce pragmatism were often helpful, but it always robbed Zordecai of the simple pleasures of war.

“I ask you once again to consider slowing our pace, General,” Varzeth replied unfazed. “The army has never traversed a mountain range before. The supply wagons can’t keep up, and we’ve already lost a score of good men to exhaustion.”

Zordecai flexed his powerful legs and sprung from the outcropping like a lion, sticking the ten-foot drop to land before Varzeth. Zordecai drew himself up to his seven-foot height and stared down at his lieutenant with open contempt.

“Then they didn’t deserve to wear the uniform they died in.” Strapped to his back was a long two-handed broadsword, sharp enough to cleave a man in half with one swing, as it had on several occasions, earning him the title Butcher of Azrahtera.

Varzeth didn’t shrink back, and made no attempt to hide the indignation in his cold blue eyes. A gust of wind tossed his short black hair about. “Leaving countrymen behind to rot on the trail is affecting morale, General.”

“Are you their mother now?”

“I send the emperor regular updates on our progress,” Varzeth reminded him. “He’ll want an explanation for our delay if everyone becomes too weak or sick to fight. And if our numbers dwindle too much, we may not have enough to take Aveliria’s capital.”

“That’ll never happen. You don’t know everything, and no matter how fast you climb our ranks, you’re still just a conscript. Never forget that!”

“Never, General.”

“I crushed every nation west of here with sheer force. Aveliria won’t be any different!” Zordecai leaned in closer with each word. Varzeth didn’t move.

“Of course, General.”

Zordecai was yelling now. “And if it takes more than a week to finish crossing this range, I’ll mount your head on a pike and keep it outside my tent!”

“Understood, General,” Varzeth sighed, his gaze drifting to the tree line.

Regaining his composure, Zordecai asked, “Is there anything else, Lieutenant?”

“According to the map, there’s a lakeside village not far to the south from where we’ll exit the valley.”

“I don’t care.”

“You may wish to reconsider. It would serve as an ideal staging point for the invasion. We’ll need a way-station for the supply chain, and a place to care for our wounded.” Varzeth handed the map to Zordecai, who snatched it and frowned as he studied it.

“It’s out of the way,” Zordecai decided, thrusting the parchment back at Varzeth.

“By a day perhaps,” Varzeth agreed.

Zordecai grimaced. “We’re already behind schedule. Laeroset’s probably taken Dioria by now.”

“I didn’t know you were competing against the admiral.” Zordecai’s eyes narrowed into angry slits but Varzeth continued. “If you take Chastin, the men can rest before we attack Wyndham. We can help ourselves to their food and supplies instead of waiting for ours to catch up, which makes up for slowing our pace. Furthermore, we’d have the opportunity to test their mettle.”

“Their mettle? Ha! Did you even look at that map? They’re backwater peasants, not warriors! We’d trample them into the ground!”

“All the more reason to secure Chastin. An easy first win would give a welcomed boost of morale to your men after such a grueling march.”

Zordecai’s neck made their appearance, pulsing in time with his gnashing teeth. “Fine! We’ll take the miserable little village. Satisfied?”

Varzeth offered a short bow. “Very well, General,” he said in a raised voice. “It’ll be done as you say.”

Zordecai’s posture relaxed in response to the unexpected public display of respect, but his eyes held their suspicious gaze as Varzeth turned and fell in line. What are you playing at?

Varzeth had made lieutenant within five years. Such speed was rare among native Azrahterans, and unprecedented for a conscript. Soldier and officer alike respected him. His death would produce dissension among the ranks, a complication Zordecai desired less than his continued existence.

With fluid agility uncommon in a man of his size, Zordecai turned and bounded up the trail, hurrying to the front of the ranks, where he could continue leading his army’s famous march. Forgetting the unpleasant exchange with Varzeth, he returned his thoughts to the conquest at hand.

A very defensible wall encircled Wyndham, but failed to concern Zordecai. The emperor’s spies had gone ahead of the army and would have the capital’s gates wide open upon their arrival. From there he’d join up with Admiral Laeroset’s forces and march on Seagate. With Aveliria’s capital and two port cities subdued, the rest of the realm would fall soon after.