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Board & Conquest 26: Roynimalia
🕑 Added 2025-02-20 08:46:06 +0000 UTC------
It was Goreville’s second visit to Roynimalia, and it didn’t impress any more than the first.
The oldest and most populous settlement in Verglane put all others to shame when it came to size. While Narc had grown fast enough to house over a thousand souls, Roynimalia was a huge and bustling city hosting thirty times that number. Built along the icy shores of the Neigebleue River, which traveled all the way to Stalheim in the south, it had grown fat on the spoils of commerce with the andvars; and in doing so, lost all sense of tribal pride.
Goreville could see that city’s decadence everywhere he looked. While it hosted a wide range of werelings from various species—and even a handful of humans and andvari—barely any of them carried weapons. The city’s walls weren’t well-maintained, and the farmers selling foodstuffs at the stalls clearly had never been in a fight in their entire lives. This side of the Boisblanc Forest had few warring tribes and no raiders they needed to defend against.
The magmorians will cut through these folks like steel through butter, Goreville thought as he glanced at the city from the audience chamber’s window. The city’s council had allowed him to plead his god’s case in their central keep, but would debate it between them. The doors were so reinforced that even his enhanced senses wouldn’t let him overhear their discussions. At least Viviane and Sagesse will speak for us…
He hoped Renarde would have better luck with her own mission. He didn’t trust the Roynimalians in the slightest, so they needed to cover their rear.
I can at least offer Lord Wepwawet a new Altar soon, Goreville thought. He had detected a source of mana fuming atop a knoll in the old city’s central district amidst the workshops and smithing forges. From what Viviane told him, this place served as Roynimalia’s main temple and a key landmark. They wouldn’t be foolish enough to deny our god his rightful place.
The doors to the council’s chambers swung open. From Sagesse’s high-pitched screams of frustration, Goreville guessed the meeting hadn’t gone well.
“You shameless fools!” Sagesse complained on her way out of the room, so loudly it caused Goreville to wince. “We should be marshaling troops as we speak!”
“It’s far too early for that, Sagesse,” a weregoat councilman replied as he left without sparing Goreville a glance. A werecat, werebear, werefox, and werepenguin followed after him. “You and the other warhawks shouldn’t speak for the rest of us.”
“Warhawks? We’re not the ones sending ultimatums!” Sagesse complained. “Your cowardice will cost us all!”
Goreville snickered as he watched the councilors leave. “Should I have brought a magmorian to this meeting?” he asked Sagesse. “They’re very good at breaking down walls.”
“We should have, yes!” Sagesse replied with annoyance. “It would have put some sense into their thick skulls!”
“I have my doubts it would have been enough, my friend,” a strong, powerful voice said from within the chamber. Goreville turned to see a large werelion walking out of it with Viviane in tow. “They’ll only complain about the smoke when the fire is already burning down their house.”
Goreville had rarely encountered werelions, and they never failed to remind him why they always challenged the werewolf tribes for supremacy. This one towered two heads over him with muscles that would intimidate even a werebear and a bright black mane contrasting neatly with his golden fur. Unlike most other councilors, he came to the meeting wearing a breastplate and a cloak.
“You’re Rickard Coeurdelion, am I right?” Goreville asked upon shaking paws with the councilor. “Viviane’s blood brother?”
“He’s adopted, obviously,” Viviane joked.
“Viviane is our pride’s pride,” Rickard replied with amusement. “Yes, I lead Roynimalia’s Coeurdelion Clan and its city watch. I’ve agreed to send troops west to assist Narc in repelling the magmorian assault, but I’m afraid I was in the minority.”
“Most of the council believes that Peridot’s words are an empty bluff, an attempt at intimidating us into providing them with concessions,” Sagesse explained, her voice brimming with annoyance. “Many councilors doubt the magmorians would risk a war over that territory. A third of them are unwilling to shed blood to defend the western regions, and the rest won’t send troops until the Lavaland army actually marches.”
“The magmorians will be halfway to the Boisblanc by the time the news reaches their heads buried so deep up their own asses,” Goreville warned with distaste. He hadn’t expected anything of Roynimalia’s government, and he was still disappointed. “Isn’t there anybody else willing to step up?”
“The wererat clan chose to abstain from the motion until they discussed things in more detail with you, and the werewolves agreed to support Grand-Loup’s call for arms. I think I can convince the werefoxes to at least provide material support, given time.” Rickard stroked his mane. “Speaking of werefoxes, where is your companion?”
Goreville shrugged. “I sent Renarde outside to recruit mercenaries.”
“Mercenaries?” Rickard growled in disdain. “A foolish act. Someone who fights for coins is loyal only to his purse.”
“At least that someone will fight,” Goreville countered. Recruiting warriors working for money disgusted him, but his god asked him to recruit all the bodies they could throw at the magmorians. “Especially when those sellswords are giants.”
“I see news travels fast,” Rickart grunted. “Some Megalorian mercenary company has raised a fort to the east and offered ‘protection services’ to the city… or else. It’s one of the reasons the council is unwilling to send troops away. You’re welcome to take that warband out of our sight, if you can buy them out.”
Gorevile was about to question him for details when the last two councilors left the chamber. The first was an andvar, one of these grey-skinned dwarven cousins of humans; and the other was a particularly tall wererat that rivaled Goreville himself in size and stature. A certain intensity radiated from the latter. Not only was his white fur and crimson eyes abnormal for his kind, but he also walked around wearing heavy black and red armor. The scars on his face marked him as something rare in Roynimalia: a genuine warrior.
The wererat watched the andvar councilor leave, then assessed Goreville’s group.
“The name’s Rapoleon, wererat general,” he introduced himself with a raspy voice colder than ice. “You are the spokesperson of Grand-Loup himself, or so I’m told.”
“My god sent me here on a mission,” Goreville replied calmly. This one’s more wolf than rat. “Will your clan lend us your arms?”
“Maybe, maybe not.” The wererat squinted at him. “Sagesse and the Coeurdelion human whelp vouched for your master’s divinity. They said that your master can transport you from one of his altars to another in the blink of an eye. Is that true?”
“Yes,” Goreville confirmed with a hand on his chest. “I swear it on my head and pack’s honor.”
“I couldn’t believe it myself at first,” Viviane said. “I’ve seen His Godliness raise towers from nothing and perform feats of magic beyond that of any sorcerer.”
The wererat listened without a word, a calculating glint flashing in his eyes. Goreville had the distinct impression that he had already heard such tales and was only looking for confirmation. Something’s off here.
“It would be unwise to defy a god’s will, if you indeed serve one,” Rapoleon decided. “The council has expressed doubts about your claims, but I’m more open-minded. If your master can indeed raise one of his altars in this city and prove his divinity, then I’ll be willing to provide military support.”
“That shouldn’t be too difficult,” Goreville replied. “All I have to do is walk over your central knoll.”
“About that…” Sagesse cleared her throat. “We broached the subject at the council, and an issue popped up.”
“An issue?” Goreville couldn’t believe his ears. “What issue could there be in having a god grace a city with his presence and benediction?”
“The fact that another deity has offered us the same,” Rapoleon replied.
Goreville blinked in surprise and disbelief. “Another deity?”
“Do you recall the andvar advisor that just left, Sir Goreville?” Rickart asked. “He represents the city’s sizable andvar minority, and his people formally asked for the right to raise an altar to their new goddess in Roynimalia.”
Goreville grit his fangs. “Another foul divinity like that shadow you fought in Icefall, Viviane?”
“That’s what I feared too, but I don’t think an evil god would ask for permission,” Viviane replied. “I’ve known the andvar community for a while, and they would never worship an evil being. It sounds like they have found a god of their own, like the magmorians.”
“I, of course, argued on behalf of Lord Wepwawet and vetoed the andvari’s demand,” Sagesse said. “A wereling god should have primacy over a foreign goddess in our capital. Unfortunately, the council expressed doubts about both proposals.”
“Tales of gods walking the land have reached the city from would-be wereling and andvari prophets,” Rapoleon replied. “Most of the fools at our roundtable will only believe what they see with their own eyes. They don’t know what to make of these reports.”
Goreville feared as much. The gifts Lord Wepwawet provided the expedition with—magical items, blessings of speed, spirit-wolves, holy lettuce—were precious, but lacked the awe of witnessing him raise walls from nothing or projecting his divinity for all to see. The more indecisive werelings would only take his master—and the threat of magmorians—seriously once shocked into becoming true believers.
“We need to provide hard proof of His Godliness’ existence,” Viviane said with a nod of agreement. “The andvari said they would consult their goddess on the matter before returning with a counteroffer. Perhaps we should do the same.”
Goreville crossed his arms and pondered the matter. “Lord Wepwawet promised he would always hear our prayers uttered at his shrines,” he said. “So we shall pray and wait for a sign.”
—----
Thank the heavens a god could multitask!
The day had barely started, and Wepwawet was already called upon to address issues from multiple fronts. First of all, he had begun to send soldiers and workers to Insupportable’s Marvelously Awesome Den—a name which the dragon insisted upon for the new settlement—in order to fortify it into a command center for the upcoming offensive on Promesse. The mountain had proved to be rich in ore to fuel their forges and easily defensible, and the local yeti tribe didn’t object too much to newcomers; if anything they sounded happy to have both new people to talk to who weren’t an overbearing dragon and who were eager to trade with them.
Managing Insupportable, however, had quickly proved a pain.
True to his intuition, replacing the dragon’s Virgin Princess Radar with Treasure Hunter offered a welcome distraction. Insupportable had stopped harassing Victoire—something which Wepwawet’s commander had kindly thanked him for—in favor of scouring the Glacis Mountains for treasures. Wepwawet would have been fine with that, if the dragon hadn’t insisted on having a cadre of minions to excavate the gold he found; an arrogant creature like him was simply too good for that kind of menial work, and being denied manpower always led to tantrums.
Insupportable was simply uncontrollable.
Wepwawet had been forced to spare some men to follow the dragon on these pointless ventures—doubly so since the beast patently refused to share any of its finds—which would delay important work. At least Victoire’s scouting was going well enough so far. They had yet to accumulate enough troops to march on Promesse, but she was already drafting plans for the assault.
Meanwhile, Wepwawet had spent some time tinkering with his ‘holy text’ and finished his set of commandments. It would be an extremely simple set of rules, easy to remember and that could be easily posted on every temple’s door:
1. You will honor no other god ahead of me.
2. Judge others on their deeds, not their origins.
3. Settle disputes with words and reason whenever possible, but be ready to take arms against injustice.
4. Honor your family, friends, and comrades.
5. Help the faithful and protect the innocent.
6. Be fair to strangers and expect the same in return.
7. Pursue knowledge, wisdom, and bravery.
8. Do not steal from the faithful.
9. Be generous when you can afford it.
10. Do not bear false witness against your neighbor.
Wepwawet rejoiced with pride at his ten commandments, being both clear and giving a little leeway for gray areas! There was no way he would have to rescind them!
Quest: Shepherd of Many Flocks III, completed! You’ve earned the Fraudulent Miracle Rank 1 Prophecy Miracle!
Fraudulent Miracle
Rank 1 Prophecy
If another deity casts a Miracle during a Godly Battle or Titan Incursion: you may pay an additional amount of mana equal to that Miracle’s rank, then Fraudulent Miracle will copy its effect until the battle concludes.
Frau… Fraudulent Miracle?
Wepwawet felt deeply insulted about the implications, but he couldn’t deny that this Miracle was good; if situational. A pity it would only work within the context of a Board & Conquest battle.
I’ll have to let go of another Sacred Food copy, Wepwawet thought as he switched those around. All the remaining Miracles with multiple copies had combat applications, and he had already replaced one Boost Champion card with the Sleeping Magna-Shield Artifact he lent to Victoire. I need to buff up my deck for battle some more.
He waited for a new quest notification… which never came, much to his surprise. Either he had finished the Shepherd of Many Flocks questline, or he hadn’t met any of the hidden requirements to unlock the next one. Perhaps the quest would show up again once he gained more Altars or recruited more Champions.
Speaking of Altars, the issue in Roynimalia bothered him greatly. He needed to solve it quickly. Beyond the fact that a new Altar there would let him project his power in eastern Verglane, the additional mana would let him fulfill the Mana Hoarder quest. Not only would this earn him a new Miracle, but he would have enough gas in the tank to fight the titan infiltrator at full capacity.
He had the feeling that battle would come at a heavy cost in terms of resources.
And then there was the matter of his other divine neighbor. The andvar advisor explicitly mentioned a goddess, which eliminated over half his class. He knew where Artemis and Pele were, which left Axomamma, Epona, Ishtar, and Hel as potential culprits.
Wepwawet could already rule out Ishtar, because she would never ask to set up an Altar; she only ever threatened or demanded. He could deal with Axomamma and Epona; the former wouldn’t hurt a fly unless forced to and his Pantheon was on friendly terms with the latter. This left Hel, whom he didn’t know enough about to make a call either way.
Nonetheless, he had a quick way to identify said classmate.
Wepwawet focused on the connection that bound him to the Nexus and materialized an avatar in his classroom. The connection felt a little stabler now that he had gained a new Altar. He had already tried to meet with Pele there a few times before, but the magmorian goddess never showed up.
If the andvari’s new deity was the reasonable sort, he expected her to show up there to arrange a deal; and he was right.
The smell of french fries in the air let him identify his neighbor before she even showed up.
Another, slightly chubbier figure manifested soon after Wepwawet; a shapely goddess with deep brown skin, golden eyes, and long black hair interwoven with potato flowers. She dressed conservatively in a colorful cloak and shawl, while a scepter of coiled roots shimmered into her hand.
Here stood Axomamma, Incan goddess of potatoes.
“Axo?” Wepwawet asked, though he wasn’t too surprised. “You’re a dwarf goddess now?”
“Wepy? You’re the werelings’ god?” Axomamma smiled at him. “I should have seen it coming.”
“I know, they sent the wolf-faced god to rule the werewolves and herd the weregoats,” Wepwawet said with a smirk. “I’m a living cliché.”
“Honestly, I’m relieved.” Axomamma chuckled. “I feared I would have to deal with Wukong or Anansi.”
Those two would have definitely been more of a hassle to deal with, yes. “I’m glad you’re the andvari’s goddess too,” Wepwawet replied. “So you rule over Stalheim?”
“I do!” Axomamma beamed with pride. “Between us, my mortals love me! My andvari live under rocky mountains where barely anything ever grows, and whatever does tends to be either bland or taste terrible, so my potatoes quickly caught on!”
As a minor goddess with a very specific portfolio, Axomamma had always been extremely passionate about her core area of expertise. Wepwawet was glad to see her thriving in Elphion. He wasn’t especially close to her, but she always treated everyone nicely.
“I’m… I’m sorry for the Altar problem, by the way.” Axomamma cleared her throat. “I wasn’t sure if Verglane even had a god, since, you know… you didn’t manifest in their biggest settlement…”
“Yeah, it took me by surprise when I appeared on the other side of the country in the boonies.” Come to think of it, Wepwawet did find that odd. While it made sense for him to manifest on top of Grand-Loup’s tomb, Roynimalia had a perfect spot to raise an Idol in its center and a much better strategic position. “Do you know Pele rules over Lavaland?”
“Yes, I’ve heard! I’ve been trading with her people, and Ganesha’s too! His civilization, Megaloria, is to the east of mine!”
Wepwawet grinned in excitement. He had guessed the same upon learning through Goreville and Renarde that giant mercenaries had arrived in Verglane from the south-east; something that would have been unlikely if another country stood between them.
Verglane did share a border with Ganesha’s civilization!
I have to make contact with his people as soon as possible, Wepwawet thought. But I’ll need to bring Roynimalia into the fold first. Secure my rear.
“There’s something you must know,” Wepwawet said. “The titan infiltrator is encroaching upon my territory from the far north.”
“Oh my!” Axomamma covered her mouth. “Have you informed Miss Athena?”
“Not yet. I hoped to learn their identity first.” And finish fortifying Insupportable’s den, whose full name he refused to utter even in his mind. “Could you spare any reinforcements in a pinch? The sooner we kick that invader out of Elphion, the better.”
“I… I can’t spare soldiers right now. Pele suggested we form an alliance to expand our territories too, but Stalheim has a… a lot of internal issues, and…” Axomamma caught herself. “I probably shouldn’t tell you that…”
“It’s fine, I understand.” Weakness invited attacks, and Wepwawet didn’t begrudge her for keeping worrying details to herself. He still found it disappointing that he risked confronting a titan infiltrator alone. “How about we sign a non-aggression pact then? You don’t attack me, I don’t attack you, and we both encourage trade among our civilizations. Peace through commerce.”
“Oh, that would be wonderful!” Axomamma let out a breath of relief. “Between the two of us, I’m not really interested in warfare or expanding Stalheim’s borders. I would rather get along with everyone.”
“Agreed. However, I’ll ask that you don’t contest my right to Verglane’s Altars as a prerequisite to our treaty, Roynimalia’s included,” Wepwawet warned her. “I won’t try to poach yours in return. Would that be agreeable?”
Axomamma considered his offer, and countered it with her own. “That’s okay… but in return, you can’t put a trade embargo on me for selling some of my wares to Pele’s people should you fight with her. I’ll ask the same for her. I would also need a guarantee that my worshipers are allowed to practice their faith in Verglane.”
Axomamma was nice, but not a fool either. If Pele had approached her for a military alliance, then she was serious about seizing territory by force. Axomamma likely anticipated a conflict between her neighbors and would rather see her people profiting from both sides rather than participate. While Wepwawet would rather have formed a military pact with Stalheim, he would settle for this alternative.
“That’s fine with me, so long as the same goes for my own followers,” Wepwawet replied. “We each keep a monopoly over our country’s ley lines and Altars, but we accept each other’s cults within our borders. That will teach our worshipers that we all form a common pantheon.”
“Yes, that would help curb holy wars in the crib,” Axomamma said with a chuckle. “Our slogan will be: make peace, not crusades!”
“You don’t need to tell me twice.” An amusing idea crossed Wepwawet’s mind. “Imagine if they start shipping us next.”
“Oh my… I hadn’t thought of that.” Axomamma stifled her laughter. “Sorry, but you aren’t my type.”
“Same, but you know they will make all sorts of wild guesses.” Mortals had a near pathological obsession with systematizing all their deities’ complex relationships into a neat, little framework. “Anyway, let’s discuss our trade deal…”
They spent the next minutes or so discussing their agreement’s finer details. It was relatively simple in its principle and execution: everybody stuck to their own borders and wouldn’t deploy military forces on the other’s turf without explicit permission–for example, to deal with Titan Incursions–while agreeing to loosen trade restrictions between their nations.
The non-aggression pact served three purposes; first of all, it would secure Stalheim as a long-term trading partner for Verglane. Second, it should prevent the andvari community in Roynimalia from becoming a fifth column. Third, and most importantly, it would prevent Pele from pulling Axomamma into the conflict. Even if the andvari couldn’t spare military forces to assist the magmorians, the latter might have been able to launch an assault from Stalheim.
The current agreement freed Wepwawet from assigning troops to his southern border and thus let him focus his efforts elsewhere. With luck and preparation, he could crush the titan infiltrator to secure the north, and then quickly turn around to either repel Pele or dissuade her from attacking.
Anyone violating his borders without his permission would court their own demise.
“Seems good to me,” Axomamma said after reviewing their agreement. “I would have loved to trade Miracles with you too, but I don’t think Pele will take it well…”
“It’s okay.” Wepwawet hadn’t finished shedding all of his beginner deck’s cards anyway, so trading Miracles now sounded premature. “I would rather focus on developing my civilization for now.”
“Same,” Axomamma said with a warm smile. “I’m looking forward to importing food from Verglane. Stalheim doesn’t produce enough of it and the southern countries export their goods at a high price.”
“We have a booming lettuce industry waiting to take off,” Wepwawet joked. “Sorry for leaning into clichés, but I assume your dwarves produce good weapons?
“Oh, my andvari can build better than just swords and axes!” Axomamma rubbed her hands upon sensing a deal. “How do you feel about golems?”
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Comments
Jordan Lopez
Sorry Wep but I'm currently only shipping you with Artemis.
J S
Ooooh
