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UE Rewrite: B4 — 20. The War is Won
🕑 Added 2025-02-07 23:55:31 +0000 UTCPoV:
1. Elinor (Our Lich Empress!)
2. Klaus (Our Ambassador to the Nalveans!)
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Low fog clung to the uneven meadow like a shroud, weaving between broken weapons and shattered corpses. Light rainfall trickled over crimson-stained earth, pooling beneath the stiff forms of fallen warriors. The stench of the place was heavy with death, not that it bothered Elinor.
Dismounting with her father at the edges of the Komath clearing, Elinor moved through the corpses and resting toad warriors. Whispers of her presence spread through the ranks like a plague, dread, anticipation, and relief in their words.
Her bare feet sank into the soaked terrain, the air heavy, weighed down by tension and the remnants of violence that still echoed in the silent glances of the gathered clans.
The war was over.
They’d won.
Now was the time for the victors to make decisions…
For her voice to be heard.
Ahead, a circle of logs arranged around a central clearing came into view. The newly appointed Grand Plant Caller stood at the edge of the field, Nina’s small frame stiff under the weight of responsibility as she observed the rows of Xaltan prisoners. Dark-skinned and bound by her Plant Caller vines, Delthax warriors flanked her with others keeping guard.
The strongest clan in the valley sat defeated, silent golden eyes smoldering with resentment and shame. There is a lot to be done now that the violence is over…and harsh actions need to be taken. I cannot have insurgencies and rebelion undermining the peace I want to create.
Her thoughts returned to a book that she’d read as a part of an edgy school English project when she was getting into her goth phase—The Prince, by Niccolò Machiavelli.
It was shocking how right the man was in many regards when dealing with a hostile and untamed world, embroiled in blood feuds and death.
Sometimes, it is kind to be cruel…
She spotted the Roxim representatives, her father informing her on the pair—twins. Toka and Roka, remained on the outer perimeter, glaring daggers at the captives. Their spotted green skin glistened with rain, their postures tense as though ready to strike at the slightest provocation.
“I would be cautious about how we approach this meeting,” her father advised, walking beside his large horse. The leaders that noticed her were already gathering toward the center, awaiting her approach. “The Roxim’s leader—as if you or the President of the United States—was captured and they still are unaware of the fact.”
I understand it, Dad… Not only is Chief Zargoth a prisoner of some unknown nalvean, but Jennifer made sure I couldn’t physically resurrect Fennel, their second-in-command. It is going to be a mess. I have a plan, though.
In the center, Chief Loci of the Flex Clan, stood with his grandfather, arms crossed, his gaze flicking between the other clan leaders. Not far off from them sat Chief Utren, leader of the Lethix, his dark-brown skin shining under the pale light that filtered through the light rainfall. His father, Elder Chief Dren, stood not far off, leaning against his staff.
It didn’t take long for the Delthax’s new chief to exit the jungle, cobalt skin gleaming with blood and flanked by many warriors. Famine rode beside him, her thin, dark horse gliding over the soaked earth. The former Xaria turned chief made a stop by Nina, placing a hand on her shoulder before directing her to join them at the center.
The Wixum weren’t present since they were supplying humanitarian aid for the other ri’bot which had been called to gather in their territory.
“Empress,” Black greeted through the Nexus, “there doesn’t seem to be any trace of the Komath within their territory. Signs point to them riding south, over the mountains to the ri’bot clans north of the Nalvean Empire.”
Elinor’s cold green eyes swept over the scene, cataloging every detail—the expressions, the lingering anger, and the unspoken fear buried beneath pride. Slowly, the conversations among the leaders fell silent, their attention drawn to her presence.
Naturally, it lines up with how serious Krava took me as being an existential threat. He was so sure of my rise to power that he abandoned his own territory, knowing he wouldn’t have the time to gather enough support before I made my move… He’s smart. Smarter than I gave him credit for. If only he had more faith in Valdar over his own pride. A shame.
“Empress.” Chief Utren greeted her first, his deep voice steady but watchful. His blue eyes glinted as he gestured respectfully. Beside him, Elder Chief Dren nodded with quiet approval. “We’ve heard of your victory but are awaiting the details.”
Elinor inclined her head in return, her tone calm yet commanding while moving to stand before the dark-skinned toad. “Chiefs, Xarias, and honored elders. You have gathered here to determine the fate of this valley and the people within it. The war is over, but if we fail to act wisely now, its echoes will drown any chance for peace.”
Her words hung in the air like a sword poised over the field. Her father took a standing position beside Black in the background. Chief Kole, sat beside Nina, leaned forward slightly, his gaze steady but guarded.
He waited for her to continue, his presence a reminder of the recent power shifts within the Delthax that she’d caused. She could see the anguish in Nina’s posture, her cousin and great-grandfather dead, leaving her to fill a critical role in their clan she didn’t feel ready for.
“Your clans have endured centuries of conflict. Blood has soaked this earth countless times, and the scars will not heal overnight,” Elinor continued, her voice gaining strength. “But Elder Chief Valdar’s dream was one of unity. I intend to see that dream fulfilled. Together, we must decide the future of the Xaltan.”
Murmurs rippled through the crowd. Chief Loci of the Flex narrowed his eyes, crossing his arms tighter. “Are you speaking about the Xaltan, Empress? Unity built on the backs of those who murdered our warriors in cold blood?” His tone was sharp, distrust boiling just beneath the surface. “I saw what those Mystics did—how they slid amidst shadow, used silk like a weapon, and had bile in their blood greater than our own Mystics. Will you have them live after the pain they caused?”
Before Elinor could respond, Elder Chief Gurali spoke, his voice rough and tinged with frustration. “Our traditions have already eroded, Empress. You think pardoning those who use the powers of the Creeping Shadows will bring unity? The moment that our people hear about their true Mysticism, it will spread paranoia. The stories of the things that crawl beneath the jungle are still told in fright.”
A tense silence followed, broken only by the faint rustling of rain-soaked vines. Great… Camellia said her family viewed ri’bot like humans do insects. Not even giving them a second thought. Yet, to them, they were an unseen horror beneath their feet. I can see why the Wixum were so terrified when I brought back a few.
Elinor held their gazes, unflinching. “I have the Creeping Shadows, as you call them—thélméthra—who are inside of my own undead army. I am the ruler of the dead and death is no barrier to me. No one will deny Valdar’s vision. The Xaltan will join us, and those who do not will be the bedrock to which that peace will be built.”
“What…does that mean, Human of Death?” the Xaltan warrior cautiously muttered. “We have surrendered. You claim to have slain our Chief and Elder Chief. If so, can you not bring them back to life to serve under you?”
“Watch your tongue,” Chief Kole muttered, a whetstone in hand under the light rain, sharpening his blade. “The Empress is balanced but is not one to be crossed or mocked.”
“I shall wait to see her power in use… I have my doubts.”
“See?” Elder Chief Gurali growled, straightening and puffing out his thin chest. “The Xaltan will never truly bend the knee, Empress.”
A small smile twisted Elinor’s lips, her gaze sliding to him as water trailed down her brow and soaked clothes. “You think that after witnessing my power during the tournament to mark me as Great Chief?”
He seemed to deflate a little, glancing off to the side with a grumble and no doubt recalling her giant quen’talrat form. “You indeed have great power, Empress, but can it break a people who have no pride in their ancestors and who willingly commit suicide to gain power? They have been stripped of all they have. Now, all they possess is their name as a clan and legacy.”
Toka and Roka stirred nearby, the brother speaking first.
“Empress, we have heard nothing about our Chief.”
“After Red freed us, we were told he went after the human.”
“Legacy?” Elinor cooed, standing tall and finding her wrist behind her back while leering at the tall, dark-skinned ri’bot who looked at her with defiance. “Where is Chief Zargoth? He joined Red in freeing my witches from Jennifer’s control. He bought me time to reach the skittering cockroach and provided me with my next target. Chief Zargoth was taken captive by Jennifer and a nalvean who helped her escape.”
“No!” Toka growled, nose twisting and wide face scrunching with hate directed at the Xaltan. “If anything happens to the Chief—”
The Xaltan laughed. “You’ll do what? Cry behind clans with actual strength and a human Pit Fiend? Some Firewalker he turned out to be. Your clan is dead.”
Elinor held up a hand to stop her outburst. Kole licked his lips and grunted, as if saying he was the definition of foolish. Moving closer to stand in front of the much taller, her burning eyes fixed on him.
[Imperial Majesty X: Activated]
“Dead? No, warrior, the Roxim are on the eve of rising beyond anything you could imagine. What of your revered leaders?”
The Xaltan grew quiet, a shiver running down his frame as he stared into her glowing irises. “What is the Xaltan but puppets?” Her hand ignited with emerald flames as she placed her hand on his chest. “Slaves to your own ambition.”
He opened his mouth, only to gag, vision going wide as his muscles locked up.
[Life Tap I - F-tier: Activated]
The slow, painful drain rippled through the ri’bot’s frame, veins bulging, the very essence of life being drawn out of him as she whispered fatality.
“Your Chief was used as an experiment. To stop me? No…but a flimsy wall to slow my path. Garbage to be thrown away. Your Elder Chief melted by the very poison he drank, crying for relief…and there will be no salvation on the other side.”
Skin wrinkling, eyes going white, she leaned in further to whisper into his ear. “Your people will learn that opposing me is hopeless… It is a long way down in the Pits. There is no choice. Only submission. Prosper under me…or suffer for eternity.”
She removed her hand.
Life returned to the gasping toad as he collapsed to his side, quaking like a newborn after feeling the force that animated his flesh extracted. She turned to the young ri’bot woman beside Kole.
“Nina…”
“Y-Yes, Empress?” the Grand Plant Caller stammered, stiffly jumping to her feet. “What do you require of me?”
“What do I require?” She shifted her focus to the many prisoners all along the edge of the clearing. “Sometimes it is kind to be cruel… Join the Elder Chief of the Flex and his warriors in gathering up the Xaltan who have been captured. Chief Loci, bring your dead, no matter their state. They will know their Empress.”
Sending a telepathic order through the Nexus to all unintelligent undead lumbering through the jungle to inform and pursue any enemies, Elinor stepped through the downpour, her emerald fire twisting upward along her arms like living serpents.
The flames gathered at her front, forming delicate butterflies that shimmered in a ghostly light. Silent gasps rippled through the crowd of prisoners as they were swiftly gathered, a terror far more potent than blades or vines holding them hostage.
Every Xaltan warrior, no matter their age or rank, was marched forward, each step faltering as their fear mounted with the gathering horde of burning bones exiting the jungle.
At the apex of the lopsided hill, Elinor stood like a monument to death. The whispers of the gathered clans fell away as her presence consumed the air.
Undead from the surrounding woods—figures of twisted creatures, smoldering animals, and skeletal warriors—emerged in a slow procession. They moved with eerie purpose, forming a wide, curved staircase that linked to the platform she claimed, step by step. Their limbs linked at the end, creating a grotesque bridge for the Xaltan prisoners to walk toward her judgment.
The stairs collapsed when she’d taken her throne, sitting on the flaming bones to stare down at her subjects. New stairs formed, straight and rising to stand below her gaze.
Xaltan High Warrior, bound and forced to kneel below her dais upon his own platform, gritted his teeth as the first prisoner was brought forward. He watched, defiant but visibly shaken—many of the Flex, Lethix, and Delthax were trembling—as Elinor spoke with a calm authority that brooked no argument.
“Step forward,” she commanded, her voice echoing across the clearing like a tolling bell under the gentle, cold rain that fell over them. The prisoner quaked under her gaze, trembling as he reached the top and stood before her on the pedestal.
“You have one choice,” she stated, extending her hand as one of the ethereal butterflies flitted toward him. “Kneel, pledge your allegiance to me, and serve the Undying Empire.”
The prisoner hesitated, his golden eyes darting toward the High Warrior. His jaw tightened, but fear won out. He dropped to his knees, bowing his head low. Elinor’s butterfly landed gently on his shoulder, its emerald glow intensifying as she stated her bluff.
“You have sealed your pledge to me with your soul… Should you waver? The skeletal hands of the Pits will rise up to pull you into oblivion… Serve me well, and you will be exalted.”
His shuddering breath eased, and a new, eerie calm settled over him.
“Traitor!” the Xaltans below snarled, making him flinch.
Yet, he obeyed her.
“Rise,” she instructed. “You no longer have any need to fear death… For you serve her.”
The prisoner stood, trembling but alive. He was led away by Delthax warriors, his eyes still wide with awe and terror—she felt several more join her faith. It would only grow.
Another Xaltan was forced forward, his feet dragging over the bones as he was made to stand atop the chilling platform. Yet, he snarled, defiant.
“You have no power over me! I will die a warrior’s death before bowing to you, Pit Fiend!”
Elinor’s smile was icy. “So be it.”
The butterfly floating before him shifted course, gently perching atop his head. The Xaltan barely had time to react before emerald flames erupted around him. His scream was brief—cut off as the flames consumed his life essence.
His body aged within seconds, shriveling into brittle bones that crumbled to dust. The ashes sank into the burning bones, creating a small, wet pile for the next prisoner to stand upon.
Horrified murmurs swept through the Xaltan ranks. The High Warrior’s eyes widened, his composure cracking as he watched another of his soldiers dissolve into nothingness after him.
“No… This isn’t possible…”
Elinor’s gaze snapped to him, pinning him like a predator to prey. “You misunderstand. This is your salvation. Refuse me, and you will fuel the soil that nourishes those who serve. You will never see your ancestors. You will be erased from memory and eternity alike… Your life will fuel my empire.”
At Elinor's gesture, more undead from the woods approached—creatures of decay, some of whom were barely recognizable as they stumbled forward. Mumbled prayers to their ancestors or Supreme Chiefs followed.
“Behold. Some of your brethren will be used not as fuel…but as eternal servants under my rule. Bodies bound to serve me as your spirits rot in the afterlife.”
Another Xaltan was dragged forward, tears streaming down his face as he collapsed before her, sobbing with the grasping hands of the undead beneath him. “Please! I’ll serve! I’ll serve! Empress, forgive me!”
“Good,” Elinor softly cooed, gesturing for the butterfly to land gently upon him. “The Xaltan will live on…but not as they were, High Warrior. The clans who willingly joined me are honored citizens… You hope to be servants until you’ve paid your debts.”
The moment the butterfly landed on his head and death didn’t come, the weeping warrior’s fear melted into relief. He whispered her name as if in prayer.
Next, she brought their attention to the corpse of a female warrior from the Delthax, her mate holding faith and hope in his gaze upon ascending the stairs next.
“Empress, can she be restored? She fought and defended her squad…protected me from one of the Xaltan Mystics. She was always so strong…”
“In your faith, she is restored.”
A butterfly landed on the brutalized corpse.
Emerald flames ignited, burning away marred flesh.
And to Elinor’s delight, flesh mended in its place.
Jesmer: Army Core - Common-C - Soldier - N/A - Lv. 1
[Grade Advancement - Minion Pool III Unlocked]
[Grade Advancement - Death Pool III Unlocked]
[Current Follower Count: 17,009]
[Bonus Undead and Death Orb Limit from Empire Rises: 2nd Petal]
75 Intelligent raised to 100
2,500 Unintelligent raised to 3,000
[Unintelligent Undead Total: 20,009]
[Intelligent Undead Total: 3,501]
Death Pool Limit
Base Pool: 80
Constitution: 100
Rising Empire: 850
Warlord Evolution: x2
Total: 2,060
“Jasmer!” the soldier exclaimed as his mate blinked, skin shining with health and markings in perfect symmetry. “Thank you, Empress!”
Awe and fear spread through the ranks as Jasmer smiled, Black privately welcoming her to the empire. Elinor took the chance to explain her power to the shocked Xaltan.
“If you believe my power is solely over the Pits…you would be mistaken. From the ashes, those who put their faith in me will rise in new flesh! Those who fall will be restored to their prime…in time.”
She waited a moment for the murmurs to end before adding her caveat. “However, not every soul is strong enough to return to the flesh immediately,” Elinor announced, her voice imbued with authority with [Imperial Majesty]. “Those who pledge to me will be reborn, more beautiful and powerful than ever before. Their service to the Undying Empire, to me, will elevate them beyond death itself.”
The procession continued, each judgment a spectacle of either submission or annihilation. The clan leaders watched in awe, and even Chief Loci seemed unsettled by the sheer weight of the display as she raised his warriors one after another.
Loved ones gasped as these figures began to regain their form, some of their once-wasted flesh slowly regenerating. Others retained their flaming bones, yet were no less animated and overjoyed to see their friends.
The murmuring crowd of Xaltan prisoners broke into sobs and wails only after several more examples. Some cried her name, begging for mercy. Others fell prostrate, chanting prayers to her as though she were a Supreme Chief… Half would refuse her offer and take death.
More energy to be used on those who deserved a second life.
Still, it was more than she anticipated, and the average non-military Xaltan would be far more amiable to join the empire. That grand display would come when she addressed every clan member under her control in the days to come.
Elinor stood atop her platform, arms raised as the butterflies spiraled around her tiara like a celestial halo of emerald fire. “The era of fear has ended. The era of unity begins. Choose your place within it…or be consumed by it.”
The final moments were filled with desperate declarations of loyalty. Even the High Warrior's defiance crumbled as he bowed his head low, trembling before her overwhelming presence near the end, belying the fortitude the other warriors showed.
The valley had been broken and reshaped under her will.
This was her empire now.
All that was left was to make a public declaration.
Then again, there was still much to be done.
* — * — *
The rich scent of incense thickened as Klaus passed through the entrance of the Mother Superior’s temple. The walls bore hand-painted murals of peaceful meadows and spiraling lakes, their depictions dreamlike but grounded in Clavex tradition.
Ri’bot children scattered in a flurry of excitement as they ran past him, their giggles echoing faintly down the corridor like remnants of a world untouched by war or the hardship of the jungle.
Klaus slowed for a moment, noting the intricate handprints left on the walls, layered over time by generations of children. His gaze traced the painted outlines—different hues marking family lineages or perhaps personal symbols.
“Signs of peace,” he muttered under his breath. “The Nalvean Empire seems to be doing quite well, despite the continent-shaking war a century ago.”
Emelina tilted her head thoughtfully beside him, her sharp emerald eyes searching them before returning to identifying every threat around them.
“Peace, yes…but it’s fractured. There are faint cracks in the foundation. You can feel it beneath the surface in the streets. This place wears both pride and strain. It’s why Nadraca made her risky choices—this undercurrent of tension was bound to manifest at some point. The question is, can we use it to our advantage.”
He gave her a sad, sidelong look before returning the message in the Nexus. Do you have to be so intense and gloomy? I know this is a big meeting that could go sideways, but look at this place. Their warriors are nowhere near as strong as the valley clans.
“Perhaps in raw strength, but they have a deity to make up for it that can harm us,” she reminded with a small smile. “I take your point, though,” she added, playfully bumping hips as they turned a corner.
He hummed in agreement but said nothing more as Nadraca led them further in. Her anxiety was palpable, her posture rigid as she clutched her talisman for strength.
They entered a grand inner chamber with polished wood flooring and intricately carved columns. There, seated at the far end, was Mother Superior Kolira, her presence commanding even before she acknowledged their entry.
The years had only hardened her beauty, or so Nadraca told them. Despite being nearly as old as Valdar, her pure-green skin had few wrinkles, and her frosted-blue eyes were sharper than he’d anticipated from the sight of the children earlier.
Kolira’s scowl deepened, but it wasn’t directed at them. At least, not yet. In her hand was a parchment of some kind, one of the first he’d seen in this world. Her expression was an unsettling mixture of anger and exhaustion.
Bad timing? And who is that…
Nearby, a nalvean woman stood with an air of quiet grace.
Ah, she must be the Mother Superior’s adopted daughter Nadraca mentioned—Elluinara. Interesting story, finding her abandoned during the Fire Wars.
Her slim, elegant figure matched the feminine ideal of her kind that he’d seen, her smaller hands and narrow face adding to her poised demeanor. Teardrop-shaped scales, polished to a shimmering blue hue, adorned her body, speckled with intricate patterns that caught the light.
From her shoulders, thighs, and chest, small, dark blue spikes curved in striking arcs, while evenly spaced, glowing red spikes extended from her back in a trident-like pattern. A mark of her power and rank as a Seaweaver, borne by each one. Her long, supple tail moved fluidly behind her, a testament to her strength and control.
Nadraca stumbled forward and greeted the two women hesitantly. “Mother Superior. Lady Elluinara. I-I have come bearing a gift that may ease tensions between us and the nalveans… You must have heard about the creature of the sea, resembling the nalvean sea goddess Zephyra herself—”
Kolira’s voice cut like a whip. “Lacord is dead.”
The statement hung in the air like a death knell. Nadraca froze, lips trembling as the weight of those words pressed down on her.
“What? Dead? I just saw him last night…”
Klaus exchanged a glance with Emelina. Perhaps I’ve underestimated the scope of this situation. Did the warden woman kill him and escape?
Emelina’s mental voice was low and cold, no doubt ready to reveal her hidden daggers. “Whatever the case, this complicates matters. I can carve a way out if need be, but do we take Nadraca with us?”
Klaus’ gaze returned to the Mother Superior. Let’s not jump to conclusions. Not yet. Let’s hear the full story.
“How?” Nadraca whispered. “He brought our gift to the Seaweaver Council. It should have cleared our debt…”
“Cleared our debt?” The Mother Superior’s intense gaze didn’t waver from the priestess’ crumbling form. “You brought chaos to their court, Nadraca. The goddess you claimed to present as a boon has become a symbol of their unrest. Now High Seaweaver Lonuarag has declared her as Yesenia, the High Goddess of Storms, taking the place of Zephyra. She has claimed power within the High Ruler’s court using Lonuarag’s position.”
Nadraca stumbled, falling to her knees. “No…this cannot be…”
Elluinara stepped forward, her voice soft but firm. “Yesenia’s rise has driven a wedge between the City-States. The High Ruler himself is under pressure to contain the political turmoil. And now, with the narrative that the Clavex kidnapped her…and treated her so poorly, the High Seaweavers have demanded someone take responsibility. Lacord chose to bear that burden.”
Klaus stiffened as his vision dimmed for a moment, his mind racing through the implications. This just got a lot more dangerous. Not only for the nalveans and clavex…but for us, as well.
“Why is that?” Emelina inquired, maintaining her perfect poise, ready to take action at a moment’s notice. “Isn’t this Yesenia like the Empress, having obtained power after the incident? Wouldn’t this place her closer to our side?”
Not necessarily… From what the Empress showed me concerning the cartel documents, this woman has a reputation in the Colombian prison system. She’s a sadist—unhinged. If the Scarlet Hand chose her to be sent off-world like the Empress and Roman… I can only imagine why they wanted her gone with the trouble the Empress can cause.
“That is a fair point,” Emelina’s voice returned, tense. “If she is already consolidating power here in the Nalvean Empire, then it would be unlikely that she’d want to partner or share that with the Empress.”
But… Klaus internally hummed, vision twinkling. This also gives us some leverage we can use if we take the High Ruler’s side. I can’t imagine having your authority questioned and causing strife between your City-State rulers would be something he’s happy with.
Klaus smiled gently, reading the doubt in Kolira and Elluinara’s posture and tone. He stepped forward. “Pardon my interruption, Mother Superior, but… I may have a solution.”
Her glare shifted toward him as Nadraca looked to him in desperate hope.
“Oh? You’ve come to fix this mess. I don’t even know what you are but tell me—what can you do?”
She expected him to say no.
Glancing toward Elluinara, he said, “Provide leverage… Our Empress seeks an audience with your High Ruler. She has the full support of Elder Chief Valdar and is uniting the valley, not that any of that is of importance to you. But this Yesenia used to be human, like us… We know of her and our Empress’ support would be something the High Ruler appreciates. We only need an invitation so she may present herself.”
Kolira leaned forward slightly, her eyes narrowing. “You knew her before? Human, was she? Hmm. Continue.”
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