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Board & Conquest 89: Woodland Empire
🕑 Added 2025-08-02 07:46:07 +0000 UTC------
The Hood and their group extracted Filou from the pit, bound his hands without resistance from his part, and then brought him to a secret village in the woods.
The Free Brotherhood’s home was much larger than Filou had expected, and closer to a settlement than a camp. It had no walls, nor did it need them, due to the numerous traps surrounding it and the treehouses serving as its buildings; most of these loomed above the ground in a web of branches built between ancient oaks. A large pond provided all the water they needed, and a colossal green tree with golden leaves occupied the center of the town; a fair, female human face was carved into its bark. It seemed as if the oaks serving as the foundation of all other buildings sprouted from it.
A good hundred people, if not more, called this place their home. Most were humans, but Filou spotted a few fair-skinned elves and even a handful of werelings among their number. Most were werefoxes alongside a handful of brown-furred werebears, unlike the white and black furred ones who thrived in Verglane.
“We call this place Graîne,” the werefox minstrel said, whose name Filou had learned was called ‘Montfort’ on the way to the village. “The entire Broceliande Forest grew around it centuries ago by our Lady’s will.”
“There’s so many people here,” Filou muttered as they passed by campfires. “Are they all Free Brotherhood members?”
“Not all of them are fighters, but yes,” Montfort replied. “They’re the Lady’s people, and we’re her fangs.”
“Should we tell him so much?” Wenda the archer protested. “I don’t trust him, or his lunarian conspiracy story.”
“It would certainly explain a few things,” the Hood replied while waving at sentries and archers to lower their bows. “I attributed the governor’s recent actions to greed and incompetence, when malice would make much more sense.”
“Where did you find this parasite, Sir Hood?” Filou inquired.
“Sir?” The word seemed to amuse the mysterious brotherhood leader. “I am not a Sir, I work for a living.”
“O-oh, I am sorry, I didn’t mean to offend–”
“I’m just teasing you,” the Hood reassured him. “As for your question, we found the parasite hidden under a tax official’s hat. The man had started squeezing the surrounding villages under his purview dry and hanging anyone who resisted.”
“A pity we killed him,” Montfort said. “If he was indeed being controlled by that creature–”
“If,” Wenda insisted, her teeth clenching.
“–then we killed an innocent. I don’t like it.”
“Neither do I,” the Hood said. “We need the Lady’s wisdom.”
The group led Filou to the central tree’s foot. Its size and majesty trumped any other Filou had seen in his life; some might have mistaken it for a hill at first glance. Its bark carried both the strength of age and the youthful luster of life. The leaves whistled in the wind like musicians singing an honored soul’s praise.
The song arose across the forest, calming down Filou’s nerves. People around him joined their hands and lowered their heads in prayer, from the shortest child to the tallest archer. The Hood alone didn’t join the chorus, their arms crossed as they stared at the feminine face on the tree’s bark. Filou half expected its mouth to open and join the song.
Instead, a woman emerged from the bark.
Her hands flowed out of the wood like a swimmer rising from a lake’s surface. Her skin had the texture of a green olive, smooth and luxurious. She had the ears of an elf, with golden hair falling into a waterfall of gilded leaves on her back and eyes of fleeting water. Her beauty was beyond words, and she walked forward in a dress of cherry petals. A pleasurable smell of flowers followed her every step, alongside an aura of serenity.
Part of Filou demanded that he bow to this graceful creature, whose presence had left him speechless, but the only people he knelt to were his own lady and his god. Her presence nonetheless shook him to his core.
“Your Godliness, is she… is she a goddess?”
“Not yet,” his god replied softly, albeit with a caveat, “but she has the potential to become one.”
Filou’s eyes widened as the true significance of his god’s statement hit him in the face. “P-eople can become gods?”
“Under difficult and extremely rare circumstances, which this dryad might fulfill one day.”
The Lady smiled kindly at Filou and spoke with a voice akin to the morning wind. “Your god is whispering to you, is he not?”
Filou cleared his throat and considered lying, but the gentleness of her smile reminded him so much of Lady Victoire that the very thought ashamed him. She seemed so… precious...
“Be honest with her,” Lord Wepwawet replied kindly. “We have nothing to hide.”
“My, uh, my god is with me always,” Filou replied. “He has no quarrel with you.”
“I know. No cruel god would bless one such as you, young Filou.” The fact that she knew his name startled Filou. “Are you surprised? You have heard my family’s whispers.”
“Your family?” Filou immediately caught on. “You mean the trees?”
“The Lady is only one title my people have called me among many. My true name is Broceliande.” She waved her hand upwards, and an acorn immediately grew from one of her tree’s branches in response. “Every oak in this forest can trace its lineage back to me. I have watched over these lands for many years, long before King Valentine first founded this country, living in harmony with the people of Saguenay.”
“Until the horse goddess came around.” Wenda spat on the ground. “She sent inquisitors to convert people and ‘wipe out the false idols’ to ‘unify the nation.’”
“There is little place for faiths such as Graîne’s in the Valentine she seeks to create,” the Lady of Broceliande lamented. “The forest which I nurtured protected those who would not embrace the new faith for one reason or another.”
“That’s why we call ourselves the Free Brotherhood,” the Hood said. “We’re free to worship whoever we want.”
“I… I see.” The concept of suppressing other religions surprised Filou. Certainly, some of Lord Wepwawet’s original followers had been… heavy-handed, but their god quickly put a stop to it. “We’re allowed to worship other gods in Verglane, like Lady Artemis or Lord Ganesha.”
His answer seemed to amuse the Lady. “Would your wolf-god allow his people to pray before my tree?”
“I would,” Lord Wepwawet replied inside Filou’s head. “Mortals should worship the god that fits them and that they deserve, not the only available option.”
The Lady of Broceliande seemed to detect his words, her head rising slightly as if to better listen to the wind. “I can feel your god’s presence in the flow of the world, and the grace he imbued you with. The weight of his power is… suffocating.”
“Milady?” the Hood asked, a hint of concern breaking through their distorted voice.
“I have never felt so overwhelmed until the day the Horse Goddess arrived to claim Valentine for herself.” The Lady’s smile faded away. “Since then, I have known the only reason my tree still stands is that we are beneath her notice. She plays with…” Her eyes squinted at Filou. “Greater forces.”
“W-we can help you,” Filou said in an attempt to cheer her up. “We can deliver you supplies and assistance. That’s why I came here.”
Wenda scoffed. “There is no such thing as a free gift. You want us to give our blood in your god’s war.”
“Technically, we’re both fighting Valentine’s authorities already,” Montfort pointed out.
“The true danger runs deeper,” the Hood said. “These lunarians are a threat to us all.”
“They are,” Filou confirmed. “The mage Melchior himself has fallen under their control.”
“Melchior?” The Hood sounded shocked. “That old crafty bastard, compromised? Is that a joke?”
“I’m afraid not, for I have seen it with my own eyes.” Filou cleared his throat. “Please listen to me. The danger is greater than any of you can imagine.”
The Lady of Broceliande granted him his wish, and Filou proceeded to recount all of his encounters with lunarians; from the near-total destruction of Promesse at their hands to the battle that led him to catch a glimpse of the parasite hidden beneath Melchior’s hat. Many Brotherhood members frowned at his vivid descriptions of giant flies consuming the citizens of Promesse and of allies turning against each other under mental influence. The Hood, in particular, grew quiet whenever Filou mentioned Melchior.
“I see…” the Lady of Broceliande shifted in place, and Filou could swear that the giant oak’s branches did the same in their shared fear. “To think there are creatures capable of controlling the thoughts of others. What a ghastly ability…”
“That would explain why the guvnor drives us into the ground with his new taxes,” Montfort said. “He and his aides being under mental influence would explain their recent bouts of madness.”
“I doubt that,” the Hood replied. “There’s no way they could keep this invasion a secret if every bourgeois in Saguenay carried a bug beneath their hat. They must have kept their infestation to a handful of key individuals. They wouldn’t need more than a few high-placed pawns to control the city and surrounding region. I am not so sure Melchior is ‘under control’ either.”
“I-I know what I saw!” Filou protested.
“I believe you, Sir Filou, it’s just…” The Hood shifted in place, suddenly uncomfortable. “Melchior is a cruel and ambitious wizard, as are his comrades. I do not think their situation is as simple as you think.”
“But you do think the Three Mages are compromised?” Montfort asked.
The Hood nodded sharply. “Those three ruffians are never far apart. I cannot see one hiding sensitive information from the others for long.”
“Those ruffians?” Lord Wepwawet muttered in Filou’s mind. “He knows them personally.”
“What bothers me the most is their interest in the vault.” The Hood lowered their head as they lost themselves in deep thoughts. “They must seek to control it.”
The Lady observed Filou for a moment and then glanced at her servants. “Please untie him. I will have him stay with us as a guest and friend, not a prisoner.”
The Hood drew a dagger from beneath his clothes faster than the eye could follow and swiftly cut Filou’s hand bindings, much to Wenda’s annoyance.
“Listen to me, Filou of Verglane, and carry my words to your god,” the Lady said. “I have watched over Saguenay and the Broceliande Forest since their birth. My roots extend far beneath the earth. There is no secret buried deep enough to escape my notice.”
Filou’s eyes widened. “Y-you know what is hidden in the Royal Vault beneath the city?”
“Not what, but whom. The Royal Vault used to be a reliquary once, but the kings of Valentine repurposed it into a prison for the one foe they could not destroy.” The Lady took a deep breath, and the trees around her village shuddered with her. “Within those allowed halls was sealed the first Archdemon, Archon the Vile; the fiendish progenitor whose dark hands shaped the Zoramesh Empire, and the voice to which all of demonkind must answer.”
—------
Artemis blinked when Wepwawet finished his explanation, and then said what they both had on their minds, “Well… crap.”
“Pretty much,” Wepwawet replied with a sigh. “The situation is even worse than we thought.”
True to their prior agreement, Wepwawet went to visit Artemis at the Greek gods' compound of Mount Olympus. One of, if not the tallest mountain in all the planes, Mount Olympus stood at the pinnacle of a range of deep canyons, dizzying walls, and steep slopes unassailable to anyone without the power of flight. The Greco-Roman Pantheon lived inside a luxurious marble palace at the top, designed by Hephaestus, Daedalus, and other legendary architects. Artemis’ quarters within the complex, true to her character, were more akin to domed gardens and glades than rooms and halls. Even her salon was overrun by vines, with a sofa of cactus leather and a TV integrated into a tree.
“Do you think Ishtar knows what’s inside the vault?” Artemis asked as she slouched on the sofa next to Wepwawet, legs crossed. “I mean, she has to.”
“I think they all know the truth, or at least suspect it,” Wepwawet replied. “Valentine and Zoramesh must have historical records about this Archon, and Beelzebub’s spies probably reported it to him. A lot of their recent actions start to make sense now.”
Wepwawet could guess the motives of each deity interested in the vault. Epona hoped to study the Archdemon in order to create weapons effective against his descendants; Ishtar wanted to release him so he would bolster her own forces; and Beelzebub intended to put it under lunarian control to use as a weapon.
Any of these options threatened Elphion’s delicate balance of power, so he couldn’t allow that ancient fiend to fall into the wrong hands.
“From what I gathered, demons are compelled to obey those of an older generation than them,” Wepwawet said. “Since this Archon is the first of them, he could control the entire Zoramesh Empire.”
“You think the lunarians could control him?”
“They must at least think they can, and Epona probably believes she can either recruit or use it.” No wonder Ishtar was so ruthless about this war. Her rivals had access to a win condition that could potentially wipe out or subvert her entire civilization. “I’ve got to find a way to either permanently destroy this creature or smuggle it out of Valentine before the situation gets out of hand. At least the Free Brotherhood agreed to help gather information on Saguenay. Since their Lady controls the forest, I can easily have wereowls drop supplies and reinforcements there without Epona noticing a thing.”
While Graîne and its Free Brotherhood had no lost love for Valentine’s current government, they understood the threat the lunarians presented to their country; doubly so if the parasites’ machinations threatened the people of Saguenay’s region, whom they defended. The alliance was tenuous at best, but Wepwawet hoped to reinforce it over time by slowly building mutual trust on each side.
“That Lady sounds powerful… Rank 10 or above at least…” Artemis scratched the back of her head. “You say she might become a local deity?”
“She’s on her way there, yes.”
Wepwawet hadn’t expected the Lady of Broceliande to be a dryad, let alone a spirit on the verge of becoming a local goddess. Worlds often generated indigenous gods in two ways: either by having mortals climb a System’s ranks until they reached the top, like Sun Wukong; or when powerful spiritual entities attuned themselves to a planet’s mana over eons. The Lady of Broceliande’s connection to the local leylines had grown through centuries alongside her power.
However, this usually happened on mature worlds and within the framework of existing Systems, not on newborn planets like Elphion. Wepwawet guessed this was another piece of information which Beelzebub had worked hard to obscure.
“I don’t know if she’s a unique case among her kind, or if other dryads were on the verge of ascension before our arrival,” Wepwawet said. The only ones he had encountered so far were the living ships who fought on Watatsumi’s behalf during their B&C battle.
“Maybe?” Artemis slouched on the sofa, feet crossed. “I’ve asked my followers, and a few dryads actually live in the Wyld.”
“They do?” Wepwawet chuckled. “Well, it doesn’t surprise me. Dryads are nature spirits, and your jungle has plenty of trees.”
“Yup, and check this out: Elphion’s elves are the result of humans mating with dryads, which explains why you don’t see any of those in the Wyld and why there are so many near Valentine.”
“Which explains why the ones I fought in Orestown were so high-ranked. They’re the political elites of Timberan.” Wepwawet raised an eyebrow at his friend. “Have you recruited any dryads yet?”
“No, but I’ll work on it… right after I blow up one of Hel’s pirate ports.” Artemis pumped her fist in anticipation. “I can’t wait for your cannons to arrive so I can smash that stuck-up undead lover’s ships to pieces.”
“Soon,” Wepwawet reassured her before realizing time had passed. “Is Ganesha coming or not?”
“Beats me.” Artemis shrugged her shoulders. “He said he would, but I haven’t received any messages since.”
Ganesha was supposed to join the meet-up too, but he was running late. Wepwawet guessed a family emergency had come up. His friend could never tell his kin ‘no.’
His absence felt strange. Wepwawet didn’t recall ever being invited to Artemis’ room without their friend. It wasn’t so bad—it was even pleasant—just unusual.
“I guess we can start without him,” Artemis said upon pulling out a sheet of paper. “This is the list of gymgoers my brother gave me. It covers everyone who attended in the past few weeks, including the day you and Horus were caught in the shower.”
“Let’s see…” Wepwawet reviewed the list with Artemis. It registered both regular gym-goers with memberships and guests who had paid for sessions out of pocket. Wepwawet’s group showed up in the former category, while Ishtar—who was a regular at another gym—and Horus in the latter. None of his other classmates’ names appeared otherwise.
Wepwawet activated his Opener of the Way Providence to find a hint, and his divine power quickly pointed at a name among the regulars. “Nyame?” Wepwawet stroked his chin. “The name feels familiar.”
“It’s Anansi’s dad or grandpa,” Artemis said. “He’s a relative for sure.”
“Odd… he has a membership card, but hasn’t attended the gym for some time…” Wepwawet scowled. “Except the day of the incident.”
“You think he took pictures on his son’s behalf?” Artemis’ eyes widened. “Wait, Anansi is a god of illusions and shapeshifting.”
“He could have stolen his dad’s membership card, then disguised himself to infiltrate the gym.” Coincidentally, Nyame’s locker was located in the same section as Wepwawet’s own. “We can confirm it by giving Nyame a call.”
“How could Anansi have known that you and Horus would be there?”
“I dunno, but Ishtar knew we would attend the gym that day.” Wepwawet suspected Ganesha had likely accidentally leaked that info due to being a social butterfly, but he didn’t want to blame his friend. “Using his dad’s membership card would prevent his name from showing up on the records.”
Wepwawet summoned a copy of the Elphion map he had memorized from his encounter with Horus. Anansi ruled Shadazar, the dark elves’ country and Wintresse’s homeland, located right to the south of the Zoramesh Empire, north of the Wyld, and west of Mortis.
“Shadazar has no land border with Valentine, but they trade extensively through the inland sea,” Wepwawet recalled. “And although they didn’t send anybody to Lavaland, they massed troops near the Zoramesh border when Epona attacked.”
“His corsairs have been using cannons against both my people and to repel Kaiju incursions,” Artemis said. “So that spider bastard is in Epona’s pocket for sure.”
“Shadazar likely obtained those cannons from Valentine in return for threatening the Zoramesh border,” Wepwawet guessed. “But instead of pushing into Ishtar’s territory or sending troops to reinforce his allies, he simply had soldiers stay near the border. Now would be the perfect opportunity to strike at the Zoramesh Empire’s territory since the bulk of its forces are busy elsewhere, but he… didn’t.”
Artemis squinted at the map, her jaw clenching. “He reaped all of the advantages of a war without risking himself.”
Wepwawet grunted as a picture of the situation fell into place. That eight-legged bastard had tricked Ishtar into attacking another country, then profited from the situation!
By sending a blackmail message to both Wepwawet and Horus, Anansi had ensured an optimal situation for himself. If the two had dropped out of the competition, then Epona would have won the competition and encouraged Ishtar to strike her rather than have Valentine expand to her borders; if, on the other hand, the message only encouraged them to take over Lavaland in defiance, it would have provoked Epona and made her feel compelled to strike before an alliance hostile to her could form.
The end result? Anansi’s most dangerous neighbor was locked in a war with another, and incapable of threatening him, his allies had become even more economically dependent on his support, and he had secured a significant amount of heavy artillery to threaten the Wyld with. He could then harvest resources from the jungle for cheap, repackage it, and then resell them to other nations for peanuts.
And it didn’t cost him a thing… except the hostility of two very determined deities.
“You know what, I’ve changed my mind.” Artemis grinned viciously. “Let’s blow up one of the spider’s pirate ports instead.”
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Comments
Void Herald
I posted a map here a while back if it helps: https://www.patreon.com/posts/128841661
PearsMan
I think it would be cool to have a map of the different factions because picturing who’s where is a bit difficult. And if I understood correctly, so yhix spider god who is next to the humans and ishtar pretended to be on the human alliance side but didn’t commit and focused on his economy and let the others fight and now rely on him more…why rely on him more exactly? He has a monopoly on something in the trees?
C. Adkins
I hope they do. So Void, PICK A SIDE! lol
Pride
So Beelzecuck probably concealed the information about the local deities in order to skew the System’s judgement into thinking Elphion is better defended than it actually is and as an easy way to gain Rank 10 Champs with lunarian parasites right?
Andrew Joseph Robinson
Victoire is definitely becoming one, maybe even a Nexus deity. Goreville and Filou would be on the list as well. We could even unexpectedly have the original Grand-Loup as a local deity.
George R
This such a cool chapter really interested in local deities.
Antony444
Anansi better pray he is as good as fighting an Incursion game as he is at manipulating situations for his own benefit. Because I don't think a lot of his fellow classmates are going to rush to his help if/when the Titan focus on his obliteration by guile or overwhelming might...
Æios
Ganesha seems like the best wingman ever
Colm Ryan
I hope Wepy & Artemis don't end up together
Thisul Mendis
Thanks for the chapter! Also why do I get the feeling Ganesha is running late on purpose? It did imply it last chapter when they were talking about going to Artemis's place. To quote : "Ganesha gave his friends a strange look before agreeing" to come to her place.
