RuffWriter
patreon
Chapter 658 p2 unedited unmemed
🕑 Added 2020-11-26 20:33:27 +0000 UTCNot sure if I'll keep the order the same, or move Hideo's part to come second. Either way, enjoy! No idea when I'll have more, but it'll come when it does.
https://docs.google.com/document/d/1TamrOcBTw28Uz4oE6H_F-IFqQfR3_7samcGEJwDu7kk/edit?usp=sharing
Awash in the blood of his enemies, Vithar stood upon the battlefield and watched the cowards flee, yet there was no thrill or excitement to be had.
Today had been a good day, full of carnage and death, with lives sacrificed in the Ancestors’ honour and many a powerful clansmen had joined their ranks, but still they refused to grace Vithar with their wisdom. Glancing around at the battlefield, he saw his own doubts and reservations mirrored in the expressions of his tribesman, all of whom looked to him for guidance. Despite having just emerged victorious in a glorious struggle for survival, none of his tribesman made ready to celebrate. Instead, they stood idle with weapons in hand while the dead lay where they fell and the dying accepted their inevitable fate, victor and defeated sharing the same slack, hollow expressions. There was no glory to be had today, no pleasure or accomplishment to be found, only empty uncertainty and vexing ignorance to reward them after a hard fought battle.
All because the Ancestors had fallen silent.
Though he would never show or admit it, he found their absence terrifying in a way he never thought possible. All his life, they’d been at his side, guiding him to power and glory, yet now their whispers could no longer be heard, and the silence was deafening. The only solace to be found was that it was not just him and his tribesmen, for Vithar had recognized the same hesitant uncertainty reflected in his enemies as they traded blows, both sides desperate to spill blood in hopes of garnering the Ancestors’ affections once more. It all started three moons ago, after the Uniter’s forces were handed a disgraceful defeat upon the fields of Central. The Ancestors fell into disharmony with one another, but today was the first day they’d gone entirely silent. Not just for Vithar, but for all his Clansmen as well, and he was not the only one to wonder if this was in part thanks to his faulty leadership. He saw the question in their eyes as they met his gaze, remembering that it was his voice which gave the order to withdraw, against the wishes of many of the Ancestors, yet wholly in concert with others. Now, they wondered if they had heard the same disharmony in the Ancestors’ whispers, or their blessing had been lost because they followed a Chieftain who led them astray.
So much had changed in so short a time, barely even an entire season, though the local southlanders claimed a ‘new year’ had passed. In another time, had any of Vithar’s tribesmen even suspected he was the sole reason for the tribe’s apparent fall from grace, they would have banded together to subdue and sacrifice him in hopes of regaining the Ancestors’ approval. Now, they simply stood and stared, like children bereft of guidance and direction, wholly lost without the whispers they’d become so reliant upon.
For years, Vithar had known he was different, if only for his ability to surrender to the Ancestors without losing himself in the process. The Ancestors’ then guided his actions while his mind retained control of his thoughts, and it was this singular ability which allowed him to become Chieftain at a young age, while most of the tribesman he’d grown up with were little more than crazed fodder. What’s more, his analytical mind allowed him to better uncover the secrets the Ancestors left ingrained within his body, improving his personal strengths and abilities so that he came to rely upon them less and less. In recent years, their voices only offered guidance while Vithar took care of everything else, but he could feel their hunger every time he went too long without surrender. They ached to fill and become him, to take hold of his body and feel the warm blood coursing through his veins and the heady rush of emotion it brought with it. They yearned to live again, even if only through him, but he resisted their efforts to claim and mould him into a Transcendent, for he still had a life yet to live.
But now, they’d abandoned him, all because he heeded the wrong side’s advice.
And you are better off for it. Their advice was never given with your well-being in mind, or that of your tribesmen. You know this for truth, because you have long suspected as much.
The whisper shook Vithar to the core and he struggled not to show it, but as he cast a wary gaze to his surroundings, he saw that his tribesmen were every bit as shook as he, if not more. They too had heard the Ancestors just now, and Vithar was unsure what game the spirits were playing now, advising him and his people not to heed their advice. Three of his tribesmen broke down then and there, two going blank and falling to their knees while a third screamed at the Heavens in wordless denial. All were soon put out of the misery, action taken by the other tribesmen not out of mercy, but unwillingness to see their own thoughts made manifest in another.
The Ancestors’ had gone mad and forsaken their people. Vithar’s people. “Gather the prisoners and the dead,” he ordered, out of need to do something, anything, to keep himself from dwelling upon this most frustrating mystery. “Let us return.”
There was no need to bring the dead back, not here in the fertile southlands, where there was food and water aplenty. Or at least there should be, but it’d been many nights since his tribe had stumbled across an oasis, and truth be told, Vithar no longer knew the way back. No matter. His people could subsist on the blood of their enemies, drained from their corpses into waiting buckets to fill their empty waterskins. Alas, even if every member of his tribe worked day and night, the meat still turned before they could finish it all, or even cure it as the locals had taught them, smoked over fire and left to dry out beneath the harsh desert sun. It was supposedly their cold season now, but the heat was still almost unbearable, not to mention the bright sun beating down from above for most of the day. There was a time when he cursed the cold and darkness of his frozen homeland, but at least the former kept meat fresh for many moons without effort. As an added bonus, the frozen remains of his foes brought hungry scavengers to his doorstep, which was just more meat to consume for sustenance.
You don’t need to eat human flesh anymore. Even the Arid Wastes has treasures hidden everywhere.
Against his better judgment, he followed the guidance of this lone Ancestor, more out of desperation than anything else. Upon returning to camp, he ordered his tribe to pack up and move, an order they obeyed without enthusiasm. Too many days of drinking only blood left them drained and sluggish, but Vithar had hoped the enemy tribe had water of their own, a hope which proved futile in the end. Still, he had faith in the Ancestors and followed their instructions, believing there was no way they would lead him and his tribesmen astray. Though no one spoke, as their journey progressed, Vithar sensed an uplift in his tribesmens’ moods as they also came to hear the Ancestors’ guidance urging them towards succour and salvation.
How long they travelled, Vithar could not say, but he lost no more tribesmen to bleak madness or exhaustion. One moment, the endless sands stretched out in all directions, and then he crested a dune and found a blessed oasis waiting in welcome just over the lip. The sight of so much water reminded him of his great thirst, but rather than rushing forward to slake it, he stopped and stared at the beauty laid out before him, and for the first time, envied the locals for having been born in these lush, green lands of plenty.
There is no need to kill and fight to survive. The world provides.
Making his way to the oasis’ edge, Vithar knelt in the sandy, wet, soil and lowered his lips to the water. The first sip soothed his aching thirst and filled his heart with joy, but he stopped himself short and rose up to gesture for his tribesmen partake as well. Normally, his most trusted Champions would keep all others back while he remained vulnerable, but there was no sense in guarding against his own people, not today. “Drink,” he bellowed, and his tribesmen cheered, following his example and taking care not to taint this gift with their filthy boots and skin. When his thirst was quenched, he set out to scout the perimeter and found plants thriving on the shores, bushes bearing round, green fruits no bigger than his thumb. They were tart and left his tongue with a strange, tingling sensation, but there were enough to fill the bellies of every last tribesman and more, even without needing to catch any of the other animals who also relied on this oasis to drink.
Sated and full for first time in recent memory, Vithar’s tribe settled in next to the oasis, close enough to partake of its bounty, but not so close as to scare off all other wildlife. It only seemed right, and he likened it to leaving meat out in the cold to draw in predators, a lure to bring wildlife in to kill. What’s more, he did something he’d seen the Chosen do every night, and set his people to dig a pit downhill from the oasis where the tribe could excrete their waste. Finding this jewel in the wild had been difficult enough, and he saw no sense in ruining it with careless actions.
As the days wore on, his tribesmen ranged outwards and found even more locations of interest, places Vithar marked in memory should this oasis ever dry out, but each night, he marked the water’s high point with a cast off twig, and every morning, he found his marker immersed in water yet again. Water welling up from an underground source, the Ancestors explained, along with a detailed description of how it worked, but it was too complex for Vithar to grasp. Instead, he joined his tribesmen in setting up shelters from the sun, using what materials he had available, namely human bone and leather. The Ancestors were displeased, but only in an abstract manner, never once bringing the subject up or castigating Vithar for his actions, but he sensed their feelings all the same.
Strange. The Ancestors had changed so much and no longer pestered him to fight and kill, but instead urged him to build and create. In theory, Vithar wasn’t entire opposed, as he was exhausted from so many weeks of travel and fighting, made weak by his long respite in the strange city of Shi Bei. As he reflected on his time there and all the luxuries he missed, the Ancestors taught him how to enjoy them anew, guiding him to the ingredients needed to make wine and spiced meat. A week later, the fruits of his labour were good enough to enjoy, and he celebrated this minor success by sharing tart wine and grilled skewers with all of his tribesmen, and he found much gratification in their enjoyment. The wine was weak and the meat from a herd of four legged beasts his tribesmen had hunted the day before, but with a little bit of effort on his part, he made the berries more palatable to eat and the meat a feast for the senses. The sense of accomplishment he gained from watching his tribesmen partake of his efforts rivalled the joy he found beneath the sheets with his woman later that night, and he wondered what else the Ancestors might guide him towards, here in these wonderful lands.
Then, one morning, he woke in his tent and found young Gen sitting in wait, legs crossed in the dirt and arms posted behind him while watching Vithar sleep. “Oh good,” he began, a beat late as Vithar was already reaching for his axe. “You are awake. And here this Sovereign thought you might sleep until midday.” Pain lanced through Vithar’s fingers. Drawing his hand back with a hiss, he found his skin welting from Gen’s admonishing flame. “Reach for it again, and I will burn you hand to a crisp.”
Unlike his flames, there was no heat in young Gen’s voice, not emotion at all, merely a warning given without any vested interest if Vithar would obey. “My tribesmen?” he asked, and Gen cocked his head in genuine confusion. “They still yet live?”
“Of course they do. What reason does this Sovereign have to kill them?” Studying Vithar with a curious gaze, young Gen muttered, “And so the mystery grows. You have transformed much in so short a time, from lacking prospects to a promising talent. So few of you outlanders are able to overcome a lifetime of indoctrination, so reliant upon your ‘Ancestors’ and unable to think for yourselves.” Shaking his head, he sighed and added, “But then, at least your flaws can be excused on account of circumstances beyond your control. In contrast, the people of the Empire celebrate their ignorance and brandish their chains proudly, slaves to a dog Emperor who cares only for what they can do for him, rather that the other way around.
“The Uniter is no different,” the Ancestors warned, and Vithar took this advice to heart.
“Why have you come?”
“To kill you.” Again, the answer was delivered without emotion, as Gen continued to study Vithar like a curious beast. “But this Sovereign has changed his mind. Your warriors and the garos they ride are a most valuable resource, on this Sovereign in still yet unable to replace. You brought them away, and for this, you deserve death, but you are too promising a subject to waste.”
“And if I refuse?” A bad question to ask according the Ancestors, who were already preparing Vithar to fight.
“Then you will die, and this Sovereign will instill one of your Champions in your place.”
The boy was too calm and relaxed for Vithar’s liking, exuding confidence and competence far beyond his years, with none of the ragged edges he’d seen during the long trip south. The Ancestors warned him this was not the same Gen, but Vithar knew as much just by looking at him. A fair-featured young man, his fearsome metallic arms ended in razor-tipped claws, while his impenetrable armoured breastplate fit his body like a second skin, and in fact might well be one. Still, even with the blessings of Earth’s Fire, as he so loved to state, Vithar believed he could at least injure his foe before dying, if not escape with his life intact. “I rode for the Uniter once before,” Vithar began, willing his bone battle-axe to leap to his hand the moment he was ready. “And all my tribe came away with were broken promises of bounty and bloodshed. A ripe land for the taking, we were promised, and now we have taken what will be ours.” Meeting Gen’s gaze without fear, Vithar sneered and said, “We will not ride again, not without purpose.”
Purpose they’d found here, in this blissful oasis, where his people were happy and free from constant struggle.
“Purpose you say?” Sitting upright with a smile, Gen slowly extended his clawed hand, and Vithar felt power coalescing within, but before he could act, the boy’s armoured Transcendents appeared at his side and warned Vithar from acting. “You seek purpose?” Gen asked, as Vithar’s eyes locked on the invisible struggle within the palm of Gen’s hand. “What better purpose than power? A limited resource, your garo riders, so in trade, this Sovereign will bestow upon you a limited resource of his own, one arduously claimed from one most curious of foes.” Without warning, the power surged into Vithar’s chest and filled him with the promise of strength and knowledge, the Ancestors returned in full force. Seeing his disbelief, Gen cackled and nodded. “Yes, yes, you feel it? Pure, unsullied Energy of the Heavens, severed and forfeited by the Devourer’s own hand. What you hold now is but a fraction of a fraction, taken by this Sovereign and bent to his will. Join me, and this Sovereign will reward you with more to come, for our most problematic foe has now proven to be a treasure worth taking. With the Devourer in hand, this Sovereign will unlock his secrets and discern his method of purifying Heavenly Energy, and in doing so, harness the power of the Heavens themselves. A secret,” Gen added, rather belatedly as the Ancestors pointed out, “This Sovereign will then share with you and yours.”
A lie, but Vithar didn’t need the Ancestors to say as much to him. Even then, he was sorely tempted. “I command the garos.”
“Yes, yes, the terms of our agreement still stand. The Commander directs your actions, but you are free to fight as you please if the mood so strikes you.”
“No.” Meeting Gen’s eyes, Vithar said, “I command all the garos. Not just my tribe, but all tribes. Chieftain of Chieftains, I will be, a Commander of my people.”
“More and more interesting, this puzzle grows.” Pausing to consider the offer, Gen’s eyes lost focus for a moment before regaining their clarity. “Very well, oh Chieftain of Chieftains,” he said, smiling as if laughing as some great joke. “Gather your people, and let us go.”
“Eh-Mi-Tuo-Fuo.”
Vithar and Gen both leapt to their feet, but the Transcendents instantly reacted, striking at the hidden foe they only just discovered. It did them no good however, as a wide-eyed, scowling monk emerged from Conceal and dealt with both in a single blow. A gentle wave of the hand was all Vithar saw, as if the bald, robed monk was merely swatting a fly, but both Transcendents shattered at the touch before crumbling apart on the spot. Fearsome to the extreme, the scowling monk took a deep breath and transformed before Vithar’s eyes, his exaggerated facial features melting away as his fearsome grimace turned into a relaxed smile, one which almost hid his narrow eyes. “If you and yours seek to leave, then this monk will not stand in your way, but he will not allow you to bring those who wish to stay behind.”
Shooting Vithar an annoyed look, Gen sighed and said, “So, the Brotherhood has already begun recruitment, right underneath the Chieftain of Chieftain’s nose.”
“We only seek to answer questions for those who care to ask them.” Fixing his gaze on Vithar, the fearsome, smiling monk said, “You have not yet come to question, but this monk sees hope yet. Your wine and grilled meat; you enjoyed the act of making them, and moreso the act of sharing. Have you not thought to question why?”
Because for the first time in Vithar’s life, he was a provider for his people, rather than a harbinger of tribulation. And yet... good feelings were fleeting and uncertain, whereas power was absolute, power young Gen meant to offer him. “Questions need no asking or answering,” Vithar replied. “Only silencing.”
“Such pride, such sin.” Shaking his head, the monk sighed and said, “Very well then. We all must tread our own paths, for better or for worse, but any who leave with you, do so of their own free will, and nothing you or the monster you’ve allied will will change this.” The smile still remained, yet the monk’s demeanour grew dark, a subtle threat Vithar could only sense and not see. “So get thee gone, creatures of sin and transgression, but know that if there should come a day when you truly yearn for redemption, the Brotherhood will welcome any and all with open arms.”
Most of Vithar’s tribesmen left with him, but a good number stayed behind. Lingering to study their faces so that he might know which ones to kill, he couldn’t help but envy these faithless deserters. The days of peace were restful and enjoyable, but Vithar knew such a life was not for him, else he would have been born here, in these safe, happy lands. Perhaps it was for the best. These runaways would only have weighed his tribe down with their weakness and doubts, so they were all better off parting ways here.
Forgoing all thoughts of vengeance, Vithar met the gaze of his woman who stood close behind the monk, her belly protruding with the first signs of new life. Nodding in farewell, he turned away and hid his smile, heartened to know at least some of his tribe might yet live on in these peaceful lands and try their hand at a life which he had been denied. Vithar’s child might grow up weak and spoiled, but it might not be so bad, if they also learned to be happy and at peace as well.
“I will watch over them,” the Ancestors promised, only to be replaced by the more familiar Ancestors Vithar had grown up with, but whether this change was real or imagined, he still found solace in the promise and hoped for the best. Whether victory or death awaited him in the War against the Empire, Vithar would never return here to intrude upon his former tribesmen’s lives, nor would anyone else so long as he still drew breath.
This much, he would see done, for he was Vithar, Chieftain of Chieftains, Prime Champion of the outerlands.
Comments
Young Youghurt
I wonder if it is just a Rains natal soul that that is running even without him knowing about it. Something like God.exe in that call center.
Rest Arino
This is by far one of my favorite chapters. I really like this good specter plot device you introduced.
Senio Holland
One of your best chapters yet Ruff :)
so now we know..the Mother and Father is just whispers from Divinities to mortals/martial warriors..
I love it. It should stay as the last part i think. It perfectly explains how the "Ancestors" manipulated them for generations and how he now easily could show them another path.
Tomi .
What do you mean?
Tyrell Facey
So now we have a clue about how the Golden eyed members of the People may have arrived in the empire
Archit Goel
Brilliant writing. The chapter covered the whole journey and transformation of Vithar, even when he is being forced into opposite side.
happy turkey day!
Jabari Lambert
My boy, Vithar is just a victim of his environment and upbringing. It’s nice to know what makes the defiled tic. Answers some of the mystery
Stockmar
That brought tears to this one's eyes. HAPPY THANKSGIVING!!!
