Rastislav
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Arc 8 Chapter LXV: On The March To Mournhold
🕑 Added 2025-01-10 22:17:12 +0000 UTCThe war tent grows silent as the scout, a Morag Tong agent quite plainly, finishes recounting the second wave of reports she had just been directed with, the tension around me growing with each word that left her mouth.
"Well" Davos breaks the silence dryly "That is unfortunate."
The masked Tong agent feels like she wants to shrink into herself but remains silent. Understandably being the bearer of bad news to a room filled with high nobility is never fun.
Feeling the slightest buzz of irritation in the back of my head I pinch the bridge of my nose and count to three before slowly exhaling "They plan on throwing children at us now?"
The group I internally called my command staff all turn to me with questioning looks.
Of the Great Lords, only Arano Indoril and Baladas Demnevanni were present, with Varan Sarano leading the offensive reserve and Aneris Dres being left in command of the rear defenses and future garrisons.
Sindrel Sadras was understandably left behind as she was quite incapable of combat at her age, which left her in charge of the logistics of our campaign where she could use the greatest of her talents.
They all had their representatives joining us though, and all were familiar faces. From my corner came Davos, Ulthis, Varen, and Oren, the two Ashkhans, and if we were being technical, Legate Furius.
Almeril Faren led the Redoran contingent, Merin Zadir was in charge of the disproportionately small Dres detachment, and Regnild Sadras was in charge of the artillery.
All of them had their respective subordinates nearby, but they did not truly have a voice at the table.
Demnevanni did bring Divayth Fyr and Vels Karvanni with him, mostly to make his fellow magi shut the hell up about their perceived lack of representation on the table, even if the house abhorred the very idea of a chain of command.
A decent gathering of people all told, and quite telling of the growing influence of those 'fortunate' enough to meet me early on, as they now soared through their respective house's ranks.
Whether this was to see them ensure my cooperation, or to see them fail, was yet to be seen.
Back to the report "What?" I scoff "Did you expect they could gather that many troops by just mustering proper warriors?" Honestly, my bets were on the Hist getting spooked by Red Mountain suddenly stopping its tantrum and panic reacting.
"Still" Baladass Demnevanni interjects "Two hundred and fifty thousand lizards is nearly double what we originally predicted."
"Quite" Divayth Fyr agrees from his corner of the tent, lounging as one of his clones fed him grapes as if he was not currently in a war meeting "And that is not counting the garrisons and local militias." He adds as he finishes chewing.
"Most of which we agreed would be far weaker than in Black Marsh proper" Almeril Faren counters.
Fyr simply raises an eyebrow "Just because an enemy is not as entrenched as they could be doesn't mean they are irrelevant."
The Redoran nods but still adds "Argonians are terrible at defending outside of their marshes, so you will forgive me if I discount them as true threats."
The Telvanni scoffs and shakes his head.
"Simply throwing more meat at us will not save them." I speak up again "Just because they managed to scramble up some additional troops does not mean they are suddenly capable of reacting to our thrust with any kind of increase to their efficiency."
"Besides" I add a bit ominously "We already knew they would keep throwing bodies at us the longer we took to win. And we will not make them surrender without some truly catastrophic losses."
No one even bothered to consider the mere possibility of invading Black Marsh proper. That was a hell I would not subject my subjects to without at least a year of preparation.
My words are met with grim agreement, and instead of letting the lot of them whine further I turn to Alandro Indoril "You were about to report the destruction of the enemy forward camp, were you not?"
The first trace of the enemy and I nearly had to stop a fistfight when a bunch of fools started arguing about who would lead the vanguard. Jokes on them, I didn't care one whit about their glory and simply sent the most appropriate troops forward.
"Yes, Hortator" The descendant of Almalexia nods "The camp appears to have only been a forward observation base, and while all we found were orders to immediately report any sightings of our advance none managed to escape us in time to follow them."
I hum along approvingly, the spearhead I sent was mostly made up of Furius' cohort, Indoril's heavy warriors, and a mix of my Unmourned and Whitecloaks, the combination of heavy armor and light cavalry leading to a distinct lack of casualties and a rapid culling of the outnumbered light troops of the enemy.
"Prisoners?" I questioned after a moment.
He does not even pretend to be sorry as he blatantly lies "They all fought to the death."
"How very brave of them" I deadpan.
The lack of mercy was something I was more than prepared for and while I could have begun asserting discipline in the ranks I knew my people were out for blood and I would have to punish hundreds of them for insubordination before everything was said and done.
I would only act when the decisive moment came and we faced a greater number of the Argonian army. I could only mentally apologize to the scouts and smaller forces because I doubted any of them would be surviving for long.
Out of sight and out of mind was the name of the game for now, I could pontificate on morality when my kingdom was not in a state of war and near poverty.
With that resolution, I took a short breath, and resumed the meeting.
---
The late night found me strolling around camp on my lonesome, today's meeting was productive despite the frankly expected news, and I was taking a moment to relax on my lonesome.
Well, mostly on my lonesome, I still had an invisible automaton and a dumb bird keeping me company.
'Oi!'
Ignoring the little shit, my eyes began trailing the war camp.
The presence of hundreds of Telvanni was an immense boon indeed, for each night they would raise a fortification of transmuted stone while I enchanted a concealing mist into existence,
The arrogant little shits kept grumbling about doing grunt work but they never even considered lessening the quality of it all, prideful as they were they were also hard workers when properly intimidated.
Not that it mattered, three hundred annoyed mages were more than worth a secure rest for my force of twelve thousand.
A bit arrogant of me to bring only twelve thousand soldiers and some three thousand automatons as a first wave, I know, but even with these numbers we had to march divided across multiple roads so as to reach our destination within any kind of reasonable timeframe.
Could I have magicked a ridiculous way for us to travel quicker?
Probably.
Would that be incredibly stupid in the long run and make them rely on me for everything as well?
Most definitely.
Thankfully I very well could magick away the usual problems that came with a long foot march, and the camp was kept to exacting order with latrines being dug in a timely and well ordered manner, and healing being provided to any who found themselves suffering from the constant exertion.
My Falmer healers were already building a great reputation amongst the troops, with blisters and torn muscles being a thing of the past. They proved themselves so useful and efficient that even the Telvanni were forced to grudgingly accept them as peers, lesser peers of course, as they put others above them, but peers still.
Unconsciously, my stroll led me to one of the plain square towers guarding the temporary stone gate of the fort, startling the drowsiness out of the poor guards stationed there.
Preempting any greetings or surprised sputterings I rose a hand to silence them and merely stepped up to the crenelated edge, focusing my eyes into the distance.
It was difficult but soon with just my pure eyesight I could ever so slightly see the distant silhouette of a great walled city, my magical sight only served to confirm it all as Mournhold was well within our grasp.
We would reach it by tomorrow evening, just in time to strike with the greatest advantage.
For according to reports, a good portion of the Argonian army was currently stationed to the west of the city, camping out just before its main entrance for a reason I would have to discover later, and practically asking for a rapid assault with their lack of fortifications.
They would outnumber us at least two to one, but that was to be expected.
What they would most certainly not be doing however was outgunning us.
My force may have been deliberately made small but it was also composed of the best of the best Morrowind had to offer, each Great House and Ashlander tribe being represented by their greatest warrior or magi.
The mixing of the different units was problematic at first but a few days of grueling marching had that fixed as comradery in the face of 'unreasonable' orders was a thing built most rapidly.
Still, I was more than happy with the army I managed to collect in such a short time.
The core was made up of Redoran veterans and my own Sworn Mer, their flanks guarded by the most seasoned of the Dres border wardens and further bolstered by the Ashlanders deemed worthy of joining us.
The latter were terrible at formation fighting but they made for great skirmishers.
Supporting them were the Sadras, who following my choice of giving the artillery to their command both sent and hired the best marksmen they could get their hands on, bolstering the number of my own crossbows considerably, and ensuring the safety of the Telvanni detachment.
Speaking of the mushroom dwellers...
Three hundred Dunmer magi! A full twenty of whom could quite easily be called high masters, all lead by two archmages of considerable power. They were by far the least in number present but by Dagoth's saggy loincloth they would burn some lizards when the time came!
Part of me honestly pitied the Dres in all of this, their 'elites' were more tokens than anything else, and while I could appreciate they would be doing over half the garrisoning when the time came I knew they would be mocked for this later.
Oh well, should have trained up better troops instead of losing them in constant border skirmishes, am I right?
---
With me barely even noticing it, my silent stroll soon had me approaching my own tent for the night, and just as I was about to call it a day and get some light reading done, I heard a pair of voices close by.
"-Come now my good man, there is no need to be so defensive about it. I assure you talking about it will help."
Nerevar?
And to my surprise, it is Anondor's cold voice that answers him "And I assure you that my state is none of your concern. Now say what you truly want from me and leave me to my vigil."
"That tent will not escape you, friend" Nerevar points out with a bit of amusement "Besides, I want nothing but to offer a bit of aid. Consider me sympathetic to your plight." He pauses "We did experience similar events, did we not?"
Anondor remains silent for a long while, no doubt attempting to endure a stare from Mr.Potion himself before exhaling with a slight harshness "I doubt your... reincarnations were as sudden and violent as my own... experience."
By this point I had grown curious enough to start spy-observing their conversation with my third eye.
"Just call it a revival, there is no need to dance around it." Nerevar ignores the snow elf's discomfort with practiced ease, the ancient elf having gotten rid of his helmet for the time being "The first step to getting over it is accepting it happened."
"And how am to accept it?!" Anondor doesn't quite growl, even if his eyes practically scream out his frustration and confusion.
Really should have dealt with that earlier, huh?
But Nerevar literally has the patience of lifetimes and simply asks "Was it not by your will that you remained?"
The Paladin blinks "What?"
"While I am mostly a warrior" My predecessor grins "I am something of a powerful mage myself" I hold back a snort "And I could feel your soul grasping at Mundus, if it lacked either will or weight you would have been dragged into the afterlife no matter what."
"My duty was not yet complete." Is all the Paladin says.
Nerevar turns oddly serious "Whatever your reason, you risked damning yourself by staying around your body for too long. You are lucky Dagoth got there in time and somehow managed to come up with a revival spell on the spot."
"A soul unwilling to pass on, forcing itself back into its original vessel..." Anondor mutters with a growing frown.
A perfect recipe for a revenant of some sort.
"Exactly" The first Hortator nods "And while everything turned out alright in the end, you still put your very being under heavy strain." He leans in slightly "Say, have you been sleeping well recently?"
The snow elf stills but doesn't answer.
"Your lack of answer tells me enough" Nerevar scoffs, and immediately adds "You need a break."
"I will not abandon duty for comfort" Anondor retorts flatly.
"And will you abandon duty for pride?" Nerevar of course has none of it "Take it from someone who has gone through much worse far, far too many times. Your soul needs rest, take a moment to relax, revel in the simple act of existence. It will help you heal."
Anondor looks like he considers it for a moment but he quickly shakes his head "Apologies, but I have oaths to honor. I will rest when a chance presents itself."
"I wonder, would your lord agree with that choice?" Nerevar asks aloud.
Anondor goes to respond "He-"
"Would agree with his predecessor." I interrupt as I walk up to them, causing the Falmer's eyes to widen, and the Dunmer's smirk to grow more smug.
Ignoring the Moon and Star, I face Anondor, meeting his eyes with irritation on my face "You did not inform me of the complications, why?"
"I..." He pauses, obviously unwilling to talk but seeing me not budge an inch he sighs and speaks "I did not wish to trouble you, you have much on your shoulders now and that you even bothered with healing me after I fell against the enemy is consideration enough."
My loud facepalm echoes throughout the camp, no doubt startling the shit out of some people "Gods fucking damn it, Anondor. That was untested magic!"
He flinches.
It was my first attempt at a 'revivify' spell, basically just shoving a soul back into a body and forcing it back to life with copious amount of restoration and soul manipulation, I am honestly surprised it even worked!
Inevitably, a scowl forms on my face "I admit a lot of the fault lies with me for not pressing you earlier but think for a moment man! It was a spell that I used for the first time and not a bloody act of the gods!"
He winces and looks away.
"You should probably send him away" Nerevar pipes in.
I could see he did not mean it maliciously but the flinch of my Falmer subject was quite telling.
Before Anondor can protest I shake my head "Won't work, he is a monk and just ordering him to go wild for a while is not feasible." Sighing I give Anondor a both pleading and commanding look "When the war ends, you will take a few months off to recuperate, are we understood?"
He looks like he wants to protest but in the end, he simply bows his head "Yes, my lord."
"Excellent" I grin and snap my fingers, summoning a trio of chairs and a small crate of drinks "Why don't we all take a moment to relax then? It may not be a perfect alternative but a good drink ought to help a bit." And give me enough time to scan the shit out of the revived Paladin.
Anondor hesitantly puts his shield down, while Nerevar just hops onto his own seat, an odd nostalgia in his eyes "Haven't been to Mournhold in centuries..." He frowns momentarily before suddenly shifting into a grin "I wonder if the Argonians fucked it up more than Almalexia did."
