Whispers of a Dead Empire

Hello! Surprise chapter :). We are close to chapter 100 and oh boy is it gonna be a treat :)

“For years, I’ve served Asteria, and I have given everything to her in those many years. My time, my future, and above all else, my life.” His words were like the thunder that rent the sky. “Now, I stand before you to give even more.” He clenched the railing as he steadied himself. “Even in death, duty never ends.” For a short time, he didn’t speak again. He just stood there as emotions seemed to flicker across his face, many of which were just obscure.

“Though my status as Warmaster has been restored, I’m afraid that the only thing I can feel is shame. We are but a shadow of what we once were. The vile mortuary cult has laid low our vaunted motherland. Once upon a time, Asteria was once a shining star. But now..” His words were caught in his throat at the mention of that. “But now, look at us. We became the very thing that we swore to destroy.” The soldiers gazed up at him, unflinching and uncaring, which was expected. They were undead, after all.

But, really, watching this all unfold made me realize just how little I knew about the fall of Asteria. To me, it’s always been a distant topic, only hinted at. The only person who seemed alive enough was Calixa. But seeing this monstrous man muse over it made me ask more questions.

“But now, here we are. Standing once more because of our Empress’ sacrifice. Were it not for her, we would be mindless slaves. No better than the feral that roams the outlands cursed to a foul existence.” He stood up straight, and the righteous fire that enshrouded him seemed to burn hotter. The air crackled, and thunder roared as the rain poured harder.

“But now, here we are. We may be a shadow of what we once were, but our vengeance is strong. In a week, we will march from this stronghold and tear the necromancers from the thrones they crafted from the bones of our empire. We will run them from our homes and hound them every step. There will be no mercy, for the only repentance they may find will be in death. In a week, we will march to the town of White River and we reclaim the city, in the Empress’ name.” With each word spoken, the surrounding fire seemed to rage harder. Behind him, the air swirled and condensed. Lighting seemed to come into existence and form the visage of a monstrous skull that gazed down on all of us as Octavian’s words grew in fiery passion.

“We will march relentlessly and unceasingly. Through the harshest of rain and the coldest of winds. We will turn the curse that was given to us into a boon as we route those that struck us down and for those who betrayed us.” As he spoke, the undead went wild. With each word he spoke, the undead slammed swords into shield, and spears into the dirt. The cacophony grew in intensity as the metallic screech of boundless rage rose into the air, and for the briefest of moments, it even drowned out the storm that raged unbiddenly. Even the soldiers still patrolling the ramparts froze, drawn to the sheer passion that radiated from his speech.

Even I, someone who had no direct relation to the betrayal that they felt, couldn’t deny the feelings of vengeance that were sparking in my chest. His speech instilled a sense of betrayal, and hatred in me, that was coiling in my chest like a viper, reading to lash out in a split second. I was getting drawn into a trance by the passionate rancor that he felt.

But as the undead reached a crescendo, he rose his hand, and silence fell upon them like a blanket. “But this will be difficult.” His tone shifted from passion to a general talking to his men. Yet, it didn’t push me away. “We will face our once mighty defenses, but we will persevere. The skies will rain down fire, and the earth will erupt beneath our feet. The air will be so sharp, it will rend flesh from bone. But this, this is good.” His words turned grim, and a sad smile crossed his face as he looked across the troops before coming to us. In his gaze, he looked as if he knew us, and he knew we could overcome what threats lay before us. Even though I wasn’t one of his warriors.

“While we muster our forces and march against Whiteridge, a separate force will muster to the north of it and will strike at the less defended rear. The fighting will be brutal as the necromancers throw everything they have at us. But we will weather the storm, as the loyalist forces from the north batter aside the slave forces. Once their shell is cracked, we will pour into the city, break the chains that bind the unwilling, and bring the souls there back into our loving embrace.” Octavian’s voice seemed to roll in pitch, making it seem as if he were speaking to each of us as he told us the plan.

Before us stood a general, who spoke to every one of the troops. Something that very few would take the time to do. He was telling us the plan so that we would have faith in it and place our trust in the officers who would guide us. He was unifying everyone under the same plan, which alone was mesmerizing to watch.

“I will not lie to you, but the fighting that will unfold will be difficult. Brother will be pitted against brother, sister against sister. The necromancers will stop at nothing to staunch our advance, but I ask you not to falter. Whether you are to fight against friends or family, do not hesitate. Grant them peace from their nightmares. But do not hesitate. For at the end of it all, we will bring those responsible to justice.”

I felt my heartbreak slightly. I watched his speech, and whatever ideas that I once had of this domain fell away. These were embattled people who lost everything, and here they were, shifting through the ashes as they tried to scrape together the pieces. Cursed to an existence they didn’t want, and for what? So people could have more power? I felt pity for them, but I felt vindication for what I was doing in the back of my mind. Would this be the same path my country would walk down if the ruling elite had their way?

He stood on the overlook, gazing at his troops as if he were memorizing each of their faces, at least until the empress reappeared. His bulk quickly overpowered her more petite size. “Warmaster, every order you issue will be as if they were my own from this moment forth. All of my legions bar my personal guard are yours to command. Bring me back my people.” He dropped a knee and placed his arm across his chest as she spoke.

“I will not fail you, Empress.” He bowed his head low, yet he still dwarfed her in size, even in his smaller stature.

She reached an arm out to the man and placed it on his shoulder.“I know you won’t. I have faith in you.” Her words were motherly and kind yet held an edge of unequivocal sternness. She then spun around to look at all her troops once more. “For the crusade to retake the first town, I will second a portion of my hoplites to the Warmaster. Let their shields break the tide that will attempt to drown you out.” A portion of the warriors clad in gold stepped forward and snapped their spears up without a second to waste.

“I will second a portion of my vanguard, which will cut down those who attempt to staunch the flow of Asteria’s return.” Various portions of the warriors who stood guard around the fortress stepped forward and joined the legion that was ready for war.

“I will second a portion of my mages, to deter the vaunted defenses of my cities, and to break the magic that the necromancers may cast.” Three battle mages stepped forward and melded into the growing army.

“And finally, I will second a portion of my assassins. May their blades strike down threats seen and unseen, so my legions can reclaim what is rightfully ours.” From the shadows, many figures were born, clad in living darkness and cloaks that flickered in the pouring rain. At the head of them, all was a woman, more human than spirit, yet it was clear she wasn’t true either.

Her hair was braided into three separate strands, and she was clad in a dark cloak that hung from her, hiding most of her form, bar two swords that hung on each hip. Her name was clad more purple than red, and I shivered slightly as I stared at her.

Spectral Blade Dancer, Praetorian Commander

“Then, finally, I second you, the commander of my assassins, use her well, but bring her back unharmed.” She gestured to her troops. “Today, we rise once more, and in a week, we march! Praise the Warmaster, Praise Asteria!” Every soldier in the stronghold hold rose their voice in a cheer that rose in an earsplitting cacophony. Even I cheered them on as the remnants of Octavian’s speech flooded my veins with righteous fervor, and I genuinely hoped for the best for them.