Chapter 11

Basked in the flickering light of two candles shielding him from the darkness, Sanctullator groaned as he dipped his quill into the inkwell on the side of his desk.. Several parchments lay crumpled in a pile by the feet of his chair. Sanctullator wiped off the excess ink on a rag, and resumed writing. He wrote at a glacial place; the letter’s recipient expected nothing less than perfection from him.

After a long time spent laboring away in solitude, shrouded in a paper thin orange hue, he had a completed draft. He lifted the parchment up before his bearded face, and read it out loud to himself.

“Your Majesty,”

“I have received your request for an update on the state of affairs here in

the Lokahn Territory. I understand that you are worried due to the growing

insurgency putting strain on our forces, but let me assure you that we are

well underway in combating it as you are reading this. We are gradually

getting a solid understanding on how to deal with the dragon threat, and

our infiltrators are hard at work pinpointing bases of support they have

amongst the locals. On top of that, the locals appear to be increasingly

supportive of our rule. The soft approach is working as planned.

There’s no need to worry as much as you have about this front.”

“That said, I would highly appreciate having a few reserves on stand by,

in the event the situation heads southwards. I’m not a prophet, and as such

I don’t know if the current number of troops here will be enough. The locals

still aren’t comfortable with signing up for the army at the moment, and

I would rather not bet on that changing suddenly.”

“I’m not asking for elites at all, by the way. Those are needed far more in

the east. Reserves that have received basic training should do the job fine,

I think. They can be quickly brought up to speed on the tactics we’re

developing. Rest be assured, your majesty: This cult will fall, and I will be

the one to break it.”

“Signed,

General Stefan Sanctullator”

“It’ll do, I suppose...” Sanctullator sighed, as he rolled the letter up into a scroll. He glanced at the crumbled up parchments lying at his feet, shuddered, and got off his chair. His footsteps echoed through the study as he walked up to the study’s door, and flung it open.

Sanctullator sounded the bell hanging next to the door frame, and waited. An assistant was supposed to come whenever the bell sounded, but no response came this time. After a minute, he sounded the bell again. Still, there was no response. He stamped his feet on the ground, and then rapidly tapped the bell in frustration. Finally, a teenage boy came running and heaving in a panic. Sanctullator slapped him on the cheek.

“Took you long enough, you little tyke.”

“I’m sorry sir! It won’t happen again!” the boy said.

Sanctullator rolled his eyes. “Oh, I’m sure it won’t happen again. Definitely not after the fifth time you’ve promised now,” he said. The assistant wanted to reply, but he stopped the boy with a loud ‘ahem’. His face turned into a frown, as he gazed straight into the soul of the assistant, who cowered. “Don’t even bother, you foolish little fop. Now, take this letter, and get it to the baroness so that she can have it sent. Is that clear?”

“y-Yes sir!”

“Here you go then.” He stuffed the scroll into the assistant’s hand, and shoo’d him away. The boy ran away as fast as he could down the hallway, peeking over his shoulder a moment before leaving his sight. We feed him, we put a roof above his head, all we ask for in return is helping around the court, and this is the best he’s capable of… “ugh. Useless.” Sanctullator shook his head, and returned to his study.

Now to wait for Bellona to get here. Sanctullator sank back into his chair. A snow white timepiece hung on the wall. Two o’clock it read, and the meeting was scheduled for four. He sighed, reached for the most recent report he’d received, and skimmed through. It contained the usual information: Recent dragon attacks, suspected rebel activity, casualty figures for the week, and the like. He haphazardly tossed it back on the desk, staring at the timepiece in the corner of his eye all the while. One minute had passed.

Sanctullator sighed again, and stared at the bookshelves lining the walls of the study. They were all neatly organised and dusted, their contents pristine and slumbering within. Except one. One book akin to a sore thumb, that stuck out of the row it was seated in. He got out of his chair to reach for it. The book easily slid out of the shelf. ‘Draconism : The Early Years’ read the title on the front. He flipped the book open on the second page, which was simply titled ‘Prologue’.

“To all the faithful, and the faithless, take great care as you embark on the journey contained within these pages. It is the story of the great Reval, the one who liberated the lands of Lokahn from the tyranny of the darkness and founded the first Lokahnian kingdom, as he is called into action by our holy lord Divinity, blessed be his name. You will experience his marvelous journey with him, from his humble origins in the Origin Mountains, to his acceptance of the Great Blessing of Dragonhood, to his ultimate triumph over evil. His trials, his tribulations, his inner and outer struggles, the friends and enemies he made along the way, all is recorded in this tome. It is a tale that will never leave you, no matter what.”

Sanctullator snapped the book shut. This is an illegal book, what’s it doing on my shelf? This he knew better than anyone else: As governor of the Lokahn Territory, it was under his order that all Draconist material became illegal to possess. It was the first law he had signed, which met with little blowback: Only the war exhausted upper classes tried to resist, but to no avail. Eight years had passed since then. Those upper classes had passed into the history books, and all the materials were now in a dark cellar somewhere, where they belonged. Or so it had been thought.

He slid the book back into the shelf. Whatever the fate of the book would be was his to ponder upon later, whether it would become a kindling, or a part of the mass of cultist heresy in that cellar. As he carefully adjusted the book’s place on the shelf back to the way he found it, the study’s door burst open.

“Alright then, General. Time to discuss some things.”

Sanctullator staggered away from the bookshelf, leaving the book sticking out far more awkwardly than he intended. “Bellona, what in the name of lady Justitia are you doing here? Wasn’t the meeting at four?”

Bellona shrugged. “I’m not interested in wasting my time loitering around in this ancient old keep. I’d rather be on the field again. Besides, two o’clock, four o’clock, what’s the difference? Do you have something else that desperately needs your attention right now?”

“Not really.”

“I thought not.”

Sanctullator sighed. “Alright then, let’s do this meeting now, I suppose,” he said, rummaging through his desk with one hand, and holding his bearded chin with the other. Various papers lay strewn about over the desk at random, and he had to search for a while to find what he was looking for. If one of the candlesticks were to tip over, everything on the desk would go up in ash: Reports, drafts of new laws, letters from various contacts throughout the empire, and more.

“Nice desk, general. Ever considered cleaning it up a little?” Bellona chuckled. “Men like you are real charmers, you know that right?”

“Oh shut it, you. This works for me, and no one else’s opinion matters,” Sanctullator said, as he pulled a parchment out of the pile. Nothing was written on it. “Okay then, enough jabbering. Let’s start with recent developments.” He picked up his quill, and dipped it in the inkwell. “Have you noticed any tactical developments in the way the dragons attack?”

“I have, actually.” Bellona scratched her formerly injured arm, and brushed a speck of dirt off her cheeks. “As I predicted, the archer trap is a success. It seems that whenever the dragons attack an outpost, they don’t go for total destruction, but for harassment instead. They also seem to be a little more careful behavior wise. I guess after losing five more fellow beasts, they finally took the hint.”

Sanctullator anxiously transcribed the response on the parchment, grumbling profanities under his breath at the slightest errors in his handwriting. “Could you explain that in more detail?”

“I call it harassment because their attacks on our strongholds don’t amount to much else. For example, just the other day there was an attack close to the Capital, which caused a small fire and a few light burn injuries, nothing more. The lone attacker was gone after one pass.”

“Interesting.” Sanctullator tilted his head, and stroked the hairs of his beard by their roots. “It seems that they’ve become very cautious now that our troops pose a genuine threat.”

Bellona scoffed. “Oh, they’ve seen nothing yet, that’s for sure. I wonder how they’d react to a few elite troops coming their way.”

“It wouldn’t be pleasant, I’d imagine,” Sanctullator said in a monotone voice. “They seem unwilling to do anything risky. A fear of death, perhaps?”

“Oh, i’m certain it’s a fear of dying. You should have heard the squeals of the two at my garrison just before my men plunged their swords into their neck and gut.” Bellona cackled to herself, while Sanctullator sat and watched.

“We can use that against them. Noted.” Sanctullator penned down the apparent fear of death amongst the dragon insurgents, along with a underlined note stating to find ways to use it against them. “Now, are there any weak points in our troops that they might exploit?”

Bellona’s eyes darted off to the bookshelves, lost in thought. “...I think armies marching out in the open are vulnerable. One good pass of dragon fire with no cover, and the whole column is just gone,” she said moments later.

Sanctullator covered up his mouth with a hand. “That’s… worrisome, yes. But how do we counter that? We can’t exactly grow massive forests or line fortresses on people’s farmlands, can we?”

“That’s true,” Bellona said, “But we can plot out new roads. Even if they’re simple dirt roads, they should provide the cover needed.”

Sanctullator shook his head, and put his quill down in the inkwell. “You say ‘just create some more roads’ as if you could snap your finger and create a whole bunch of ‘em. Those things need to be planned, we need the resources, and workers to actually build the bloody things. And I’m certain the beasts will happily strike at helpless workers, so good luck actually getting new roads.”

“Well, what else can we do? Train our troops better?”

“...I guess. We’ll have to think this through on our own time, then,” Sanctullator said. He leaned forwards with a forearm on the desk. “Unless you happen to have an idea all of a sudden.” Bellona’s gaze turned back to the bookshelves, the meaning of which was clear. “Well that’s that. Do you have anything else you wish to discuss?”

“I do, actually.”

One of the candles flamed out. “And what would that be?” groaned Sanctullator as he picked up the still lit candle to reignite the exhausted spark.

“Well, we know that we’re getting attacked by these scaled beasts, that’s one thing. What I want know is what justice forsaken abyss they crawled out of. Do we have any idea where these beasts reside?” Bellona said.

Sanctullator sighed, and rested a forearm on the desk. “I’m afraid we both know as much as the other.”

“Really? All this time and no one’s even bothered to look for wherever they’re hiding?” Bellona bumped hard into the desk with her knee. “That’s unbelievably useful information to have, and we’re not doing a damn!”

“Calm down, we have people looking for it. All we know is that the attackers always come from the west. No more-” Wait a minute… Sanctullator paused. Could that be it? He slowly rose to his feet, and calmly stepped towards the Draconist book he had found moments ago, his footsteps echoing on the marble floor.

“What are you doing? We were talking, you moron,” Bellona said, as she too rose out of her chair.

The Draconist book still jutted out of the shelves. Sanctullator took it in his hands, and stared at the cover as he slowly walked back to Bellona. “I think I have an idea.”

“That’s some dusty old book, how’s that going to help?” Bellona said.

“Read this bit, will you?” Sanctullator gave her the book, opened on the prologue with his finger under the words ‘Origin Mountains’. Bellona pushed his hand aside, and skimmed through the block of text.

“The abyss is this? This is just fairy tale garbage the cultists believe in, why are you showing this?” Bellona said. Her gaze turned foul. “Are you-”

“No, I’m not a cultist, you fool. Did you read it properly? Notice how it said ‘Origin Mountains’?” Sanctullator said. Bellona nodded in response. “That’s the old Lokahnic name for the Occidentis Mountains. That might be where they’re hiding.”

Bellona clicker her tongue, and sighed in frustration. “This better be some big joke, you fool. Your big lead is some silly book a cultist penned down when he was bored once. This is-”

“Quiet!” Sanctullator sharply hissed. “First off, you know how superstitious the cultists and the people of this damned country are. Based on that alone, we can’t rule the possibility out that they’re there. Second, what other option is there? Have you got any other lead, or some other clue we can follow?

“No, but-"

“That’s all I need to hear. Or do you think sitting around getting torched while we wait for some other lead is a better idea?”

Bellona crashed back into her chair; an admission of defeat. “Fine, have it your way, then. If you are really believe that book has uses beyond fueling a fire, then who am I to stop you? Don’t be surprised when you come up empty handed, though.”

Sanctullator snorted. “No wonder they call you stubborn,” he said. Bellona grinned, her eyes rolled upwards. “Now then, if you excuse me, there’s work to be done. We can end this now, unless-”

“About time.” Bellona jumped out of her chair, and headed for the door.

“Wait a minute,” Sanctullator said. Bellona irritatedly turned around, her face staring down at Sanctullator. “Isn’t your garrison currently resting?”

“Yes.”

“Then what are you going to do now?”

“Oh, I’ll just go wrangle some lowlifes in the Green District for some time. It’s actually more fun, to be honest. Ever seen how drunks squirm when you kick their face in? Real knee slapper, let me tell you!” Bellona smiled, and threw the door open. “Later, general,” she said, as the door fell back into the frame.

Sanctullator sighed, and glanced at the timepiece. Ten minutes had passed. He shook his head. Someone ought to put that wicked bitch in her place.