Karp
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Chapter 103
🕑 Added 2024-11-11 20:18:50 +0000 UTCThe battle over Deatholme had concluded, and with the death of Lana'thel, Varrus and Kael had made swift work of the remaining crazed Darkfallen.
There was so much carnage, dried blood, and disgusting vital fluids, that Varrus had power washed a good 60% of the city streets with Infinite Light. The beam spell purified the land, and eliminated most of the horrendous stench wafting in the air.
After they had cleansed the city of any remaining Undead, Varrus found himself alongside the rest of the Convocation, and the Monarchists sitting at a table within the ruined remains of Deatholme's castle.
Over half the structure had been blasted to smithereens thanks to Varrus's bombardment, yet it was made of sturdy stones, and had a chamber large enough to host Quel'Thalas's Heroes.
Before everyone sat down, and the meeting could begin, everyone in the chamber was standing around, and engaging in small talk. Varrus took this time to find Syra, and embrace her in a tight hug.
“You made me worry.” Varrus muttered as he gently nibbled her ear.
“Sorry. I wanted to impress Nightsong.” Syra ducked her head.
Varrus blew a cold current of air on Syra's ear, causing her to shiver.
Chuckling to himself, Varrus clunked his forehead against hers.
“Hey, it's okay it just means we have to communicate with each other. The next time something like that happens, we can just send a quick message via scrying orb. That way, we don't have to keep guessing at each other's safety.” Varrus raised her by the chin, and planted a firm kiss on her lips.
“Mnn.” Syra smiled at Varrus, and rubbed her head into his chest.
“Thatta girl.” Varrus encouraged, whilst he worked his fingers in small circles on her back.
Syra made a cute expression when he felt a knot come undone.
Grinning at her movements, Varrus was reminded of a dog wagging its tail, asking for more.
“So how did it go? Rho'dan informed me that you subdued Tha'salah? And it was with Prince Valanar's aid no less.” Varrus questioned.
“It was okay…” Syra said trailingly in a small voice.
Varrus blinked. He did not like the sound of that.
“Want to talk about it?” Varrus asked in concern.
“Not really…but when I was all set to save your mother and impress everyone, Valanar and Lor'Themar whispered to the stupid big tree, and made it surrender before I could do much.” Syra pouted, and glared at the Prince who was sitting in a mana suppressing cage to the side. She then harrumphed at the sight of Lor'Themar standing next to Nightsong.
The white haired Prince was simply sitting there meditating, and looked like he didn't have a care in the world.
Varrus felt a headache at this development. Syra, his loving wife had gone off and tried to impress Nightsong, only to be one upped by a pretty druid and the charismatic Ranger General.
In fact, said Ranger General was currently making Nightsong cover her mouth in suppressed laughter.
The long haired blonde winked at Varrus when he caught his eye, and subtly nodded towards Nightsong.
Ah hell no! Was Lor'Themar interested in pursuing his mother?!
Admittedly, they were not close as mother and son, but dammit Lor'Themar!
Varrus's eyelid twitched, and his face froze in a rictus-like grin.
“Varrus?” Syra tapped him on the forehead to get his attention.
“Hm? What?”
“Everyone is sitting down, but if you're comfortable being here, so am I.” Syra whispered in a half giggle, half serious tone.
Varrus realized he was in a bit of a compromising position, what with his hand massaging her back. He imagined to an outsider, he must look like the Addams Family parents making out and dirty talking in public.
Wiping a hand down his face, Varrus patted Syra on the cheek, and nodded in thanks before he went to take his seat in the middle of the table.
Once everyone sat down, Varrus got to work.
“Members of the Convocation, Kings Council, and His Majesty Kael’Thas, victory has been achieved. The civil war is over, and Quel'Thalas is whole once more, however, there is still much to be done if we wish to maintain this security.” Varrus announced to the room, and looked everyone in the eye.
“But before we begin our discussions of the future, we must discuss the present. Pathaleon, you are an accomplished logistician, what are our losses, what is the surviving tally of Quel'Thalas, and what is the state of our economy, can we afford to wage a long term war?” Varrus asked one question after another towards the somewhat cowardly, yet well learned man.
Pathaleon the ‘Calculator’ was the treasurer and herald of the previous administration, and although he wasn't as math smart as Telonicus, his talents lied in logistical support. While Varrus had had a run in with the man when he first transmigrated 4 months ago, that didn't mean Varrus would kill or dismiss Pathaleon like some blood crazed lunatic.
To Varrus, it was okay to have some disagreements, because at the end of the day, all that mattered to him was whether or not the job was completed. And Pathaleon, for all his political maneuvering, was no threat to Varrus, and was an integral piece to the running of the nation.
“Ahem, our losses amongst Highborn are slim. Thanks to the potions provided by House Vandercross, and the efforts of our priests, less than 1,000 Highborn have perished in this campaign.” Pathaleon looked at Varrus, and politely applauded.
“Hear, hear!” Koren loudly clapped along, only to abruptly stop when he saw no one else was clapping along.
Varrus felt Syra pinch his shoulder from behind, but he refused to look around, and maintained a serious expression as he looked at Pathaleon.
“Continue.” Varrus gestured with his hand.
“Yes. Unfortunately, the majority of our golems are completely lost, or heavily damaged beyond repair. Less than 500 golems survived the fight, and none of Lord Vandercross’s iron golems remain.” Pathaleon bowed his head at Varrus.
“Dire news indeed. Although an eyesore, those iron golems of yours proved sufficient.” Tae'thelon's cultured voice butted in.
“Indeed, by my estimates, the golems reduced casualty rates by over 37.33%” Telonicus added on.
“It is of little consequence. With the compact I have forged with the Longcandle tribe, the Kobolds will supply us with the minerals and components necessary to forge new golems.” Varrus said with finality.
“So you truly managed to rope those rodents into the fold? What-ever will the Humans and Dwarves in the Alliance think of this? Tsk tsk.” Tae'thelon swirled a goblet of wine, and took a sip with a look of schadenfreude upon his face.
“The Headmaster is correct, the rodents deserve nothing but death. But he is also wrong. Who cares what the other members of the Alliance think? Has Quel'Thalas ever been subject to the whims of Humans and Dwarves?” Thaladred spoke harshly from one end of the table. The dark knight slammed his plated fist down upon the table as he seethed.
“So this is a typical meeting of the Convocation?” Kael chuckled aloud, silencing the table.
“What are your thoughts on the Kobold matter, my liege?” Lor'Themar stroked his goatee, and asked in a neutral tone.
Kael glanced at the Ranger General appreciatively, then addressed the table.
“The First Seat informed me of the Kobolds more than a month ago. It is only now that we have reclaimed Quel'Thalas that we have time to codify his efforts. It is my understanding that you not only made friends with the Kobolds, but have transformed them into a client state?” Kael steepled his fingers, and spoke directly at Varrus.
Varrus barely withheld a smirk, and internally thanked Kael for this bit of political theater. With the King as his best friend, there really wasn't any proposition Varrus couldn't pass.
“Yes, Your Majesty. The Longcandle tribe have agreed to become our dependents. Unlike the flimsy Alliance that was dominated by Human policy, the Covenant is ruled directly by us.” Varrus let loose with a shark-like grin at everyone present.
Koren eagerly nodded back, Liadrin looked thoughtful, Thaladred stoic, Telonicus lost in mathematics, Lor'Themar amused, and maybe even a shred of respect from Tae'thelon.
“Putting the vermin under our control. Vandercross, I do not know how you did it, but I wish we had done so earlier. This, I can approve of.” Tae'thelon raised his glass in an arrogant manner, and tipped his head towards Varrus in a sign of respect.
“Thank you, Headmaster. I have further plans for the Convocation, but we can get to that part later. Pathaleon, if you would. We may have gotten sidetracked, but we must learn of the realms resources before we make any decision towards the future.” Varrus took a sip of tea, and nodded towards the Calculator.
“Thank you, Highlord. Now, as the losses in this conflict were light, I have a final tally for the total number of Highborn in Quel'Thalas.” Pathaleon explained, and passed a sheet with some figures on it.
Silvermoon: 323,890
Tranquillien: 46,732
Sunsail Anchorage: 176,545
Deatholme: 0
Minor Towns/Hamlets: 31,700
Friendly Darkfallen: 34,792
Total Living: 578,867
Total + DF: 613,659
Pre-Scourge: 1,835,230
Doing some quick math, Varrus came to the realization that about 31.45% of the population had survived the Scourge invasion.
It was an incredibly tragic situation. Unfortunately, he wasn't stronger from the start, otherwise, even more would have survived. However, at the very least, Varrus knew that he was making an impact.
Canonically, something like 98% of all High Elves were supposed to die when the Scourge attacked.
Nodding his head, Varrus aimed to do better moving forward. The future would be full of perils, but Kael had matured, and Quel'Thalas was on track to becoming a powerhouse. History had already been changed, and what was done, was done.
Once the paper had been passed around, most people had grim looks, yet the info was not surprising. Everyone here was a survivor, and had fought tooth and nail for survival. Some painful statistics would not dampen their morale.
In fact, glancing at his compatriots, the low number only seemed to invigorate everyone, and bind them together towards achieving a common goal.
Elves may be a fickle race prone to backstabbing, but when it came to opposing outsiders, they were locked in.
Pathaleon nodded at everyone once he received the sheet back, and resumed his presentation.
“Now, as for the economy, it is not looking good. The supply of Mana Stones can barely meet the demand, and between the war, experiments, and stockpiling for emergencies, it is not looking good. Already we are rationing what we use, but it is not enough. Between supplying Liadrin's army, House Vandercross, the Sunfury, and this siege, we are in dire straits. Whatever plan you have to restart the Sunwell Highlord, I recommend it is completed sooner than later.” Pathaleon grimaced at Varrus with a haunted look that only a corporate employee who routinely worked with numbers could give.
Varrus felt like a CEO that was just informed that all of his stock had lost its value.
He had to supply enough mana for HALF A MILLION people. And if they didn't get their fix, they would transform into mana addicted crack gremlins.
Varrus palmed his forehead in consternation. He never thought being a drug supplier would be such a pain in the ass. Yeah, it gave him fiat control over the economy and a shit ton of power. But his people were the worst.
“Telonicus, how long until we have enough Rune Stones to mask a resurgent Sunwell?” Varrus tiredly questioned.
“Three to six months. It all depends on the shift of the leylines, and finding the perfect place to set the stones.” Telonicus responded.
“There's your answer, Pathaleon.” Varrus shrugged.
“Not ideal, but we can make it work with further rationing.” Pathaleon nodded, and input some info in his scrying orb.
“Lastly, whilst we are doing well on foodstuffs, we are almost completely out of reagents. The potions in this campaign prevented an estimated 23,789 wounded, and 62,454 deaths. I need not stress how vital they were in strengthening, and speeding up warriors, defusing poisons, or healing wounds.” Pathaleon intoned with a severe expression.
“I can help with that!” A voice sounding like it came from a K-pop star sounded out.
Turning in his seat, Varrus took hold of the imprisoned prince.
“I am a friend of the green.” Valanar whimsically blew a strand of his hair away from his eyes, and looked at them, yet seemed like he was looking at something that wasn't there at the same time.
The perfect looking pretty boy gave Varrus an odd feeling, but he decided to remain silent, and looked to Kael.
Although he had captured him, Varrus decided he would leave Valanar's fate to Kael since they were half-brothers.
They had just won a civil war, and even if he was Undead, Valanar was of royal lineage and remained a claimant to the throne. From Varrus's POV, he would support whatever decision his best friend came to.
For Kael's part, he looked conflicted. As if he wanted to say yes, but then he would get an austere Kingly look about him, and he looked like he was on the verge of ordering his brother's execution then and there.
It was a little sad for Varrus to see his friend war between hopeful innocence, and that of a cold monarch.
“...thank you Valanar, but We do not require your-”
“Ah, let him do it Goldilocks, the little guy calmed down the World Tree, that's got to count for something, right?” Jan'alai piped up from behind Kael's chair.
Like Syra, Jan'alai was not an official member of any group, and so was standing in as an unofficial advisor.
Kael frowned, and for once, displayed a look of anger at being interrupted by Jan'alai.
Varrus raised an eyebrow. It would seem the family strife had really hurt the young King. He'd have to find some time and shoot some fireballs with Kael mindlessly at something, and talk about nothing.
The pressures of leadership were heavy, and one of the best ways for a guy to blow off steam was to mess around with magic.
“I too shall add my voice towards Valanar's defense. He was instrumental in our victory. Now he wishes to aid us further. To deny him this right of redemption…it spits in the face of all Darkfallen who love this country.” Nightsong spoke up from her end of the table, utterly silencing Kael and everyone else.
‘Goddamn!’ Varrus raised his eyebrows even higher.
Taking a glance at Kael, he knew his friend wasn't in the mood to be taking any shit from anybody-even if it was a fair argument-and he decided to go against his better judgment, and stepped in to mediate.
“A fair point, General Nightsong. Valanar has earned some trust from us, but the fact remains that he had taken up arms against us before his surrender. I suggest the Prince be placed into protective custody and under the watch of House Vandercross. Under my care, he can manage the Vandercross botanical gardens, and should he prove himself, then one day he may be free.” Varrus proposed essentially placing Valanar under house arrest as a compromise that hopefully would satisfy both parties.
“...very well. I will allow this.” Kael crossed his arms, and nodded at Varrus.
“It is good to see a sensible decision coming from a Sunstrider for once.” Nigntsong nodded, then turned back to whispering with Lor'Themar.
Varrus let out a sigh of relief that the compromise had worked. A conflict between Nightsong and Kael would be the last thing he wanted. Civil war part 2 electric boogaloo was not on his bingo card, and something he prayed would never happen.
Clearly a few people were hot under the collar, and could use a bit of cooling off.
“Okay, let's take a half hour break, then resume this meeting. Some fresh air will do us all some good.” Varrus said, then stood up.
Varrus internally chuckled as he saw the sour expression on his friend's face. Kael may have admonished the group at the beginning, but he turned out to be just another player in their game.
Locking eyes with Syra, he found her meaningful grin and wink of the eye to be so silly.
Allowing himself to be dragged to an unoccupied room, Varrus felt her hands removing his robe at lightning speeds.
This woman wanted 12 kids, and nothing would get in her way of realizing that dream, not even some stuffy meeting determining the fate of Quel’Thalas!
