Hope Sundered

“We have a problem,” Laeroset began, addressing his top officers and Jaxin. “It’s become clear General Zordecai has yet to take Wyndham. How his spies failed to grant him access to the city is quite the mystery, but it’s one I don’t expect to solve anytime soon.”

The group encircled an exquisitely carved mahogany table in what used to be Baron Malphus’ lavish bedroom. Once laden with exotic culinary delicacies, the table was now covered by maps and scrolls, and served as Laeroset’s base of operations.

“Will we be sending reinforcements?” one of the officers asked.

Laeroset laughed. “Absolutely not. Zordecai’s army outnumbers the enemy three to one. His only option now is to maintain a siege and starve the city, though I'm sure he’ll go mad with impatience before then. It’s unfortunate so many resources will be lost or wasted by the time he cracks that nut.

“Our timetable’s been ruined, so we’ll need to improvise. Without Zordecai’s men we won’t be able to take Seagate, so we’ll need to ensure our hold over Dioria. It’s critical we continue portraying ourselves to the locals in a positive light. Tell them how we liberated them from Malphus’ oppressive rule, and how we’ll help them prosper like never before. You’ll have various goods to distribute at your discretion—food for the hungry, coin for the poor; that sort of thing.”

“You aim to buy the city’s loyalty?” Jaxin asked in a skeptical tone, despite the pang of hypocrisy stabbing at his conscience.

“Of course. I’ve studied this city well. You people care a great deal about wealth and work hard to obtain as much of it as possible. You’ll fight to defend your lifestyle of convenience, but don’t seem to care who provides it, hence the ease of our arrival. Once the right people were paid off, all that remained in our way was the city guard.”

Jaxin’s shame bubbled up in the shape of a frown. “Sorry to disappoint you.”

“For what it’s worth, you and your men had the potential to be quite formidable. Your fatal weakness was your hubris. You made the assumption long ago you’d never be attacked, much less defeated. When the time came to deal with an invasion, you panicked.”

Humiliated, Jaxin looked away, drawing another grin from the admiral and several snickers from the other officers. He wasn’t one of them and never would be, and they were sure to remind him with every opportunity. He burned with white hot anger on the inside but didn’t dare show it, knowing it would cost him his life.

“Dioria must learn to trust Azrahtera’s rule,” Laeroset continued. “This won’t happen overnight, but in time they need to believe they’re happier with us in charge.”

“Do you really think everyone will forget how you got here?” Jaxin couldn’t believe the depth of the admiral’s arrogance—and yet it wasn’t arrogance, but the genuine confidence of a man in complete control of the situation, which made it even worse.

Laeroset smiled. “With the right narrative, they may even come to celebrate our arrival. History’s always a matter of perspective, commander. If a group of patriots overthrow those in power, they’re hailed as revolutionaries. If they fail, they’re branded as rebels. Future generations may debate their goals and motivations, but only the victors get to display their version of events. This wouldn’t be the first time.”

But it needs to be the last time, Jaxin thought to himself, maintaining his stoic visage. He was still nowhere near developing a plan of action. The very idea of liberating Dioria at this point seemed ludicrous, especially with no resources or allies, but even more absurd was continuing the charade of a normal life.