Valkyrie's Shadow

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Chapter 7

14th Day, Upper Water Month, 0 CE

There was still no sign of Rana Pwilere by the time Clan Ki’ra’s forces were ready to depart.

It was difficult to tell with primitive tribes, but Saraca thought he could already sense the effects of the Clanlord’s loss. The spirit of his followers was significantly dampened, especially that of his retinue. No one was interested in fighting beyond what was necessary to keep the retreating tribespeople behind the front lines safe. Such things might be attributed to the setback they had experienced and the lack of overarching leadership, but he understood how mundane and extraordinary effects were often conflated with one another.

After they were well on their way back to Gor’lior, Saraca went over to speak with Rana Saj at the head of the Ki’ra column.

“If they decide that Rana Pwilere has been lost,” he asked, “what happens then?”

“His clan will quietly mourn his passing,” Rana Saj answered, “but the world is not so kind as to stop what it’s doing so they can do so at their leisure. If you mean the political repercussions, a new Lord will be chosen out of the tribes.”

“No,” the Rana shook his head. “I hear that the Humans in the west do things that way, but it makes absolutely no sense to me. Inheriting the strength of one’s ancestry is never a guarantee, and strength is required for survival. The strongest Lord out of their tribes will take up the mantle of leadership. If they feel someone is better suited – say, a younger leader who displays great promise – they will lead jointly until the nominee possesses sufficient strength and experience.”

“Is that what happened with you? My father said that Goro was a notable warrior.”

According to the members of Saraca’s family who knew him, Goro was Rathi-class, which was admittedly two or three orders of magnitude above ‘notable’. However, Saraca had no idea whether Rol’en’gorek had any similar classifications. The local warrior caste did have a sort of unified ranking system, but it only appeared to cover up to what they considered elite veteran warriors. Anyone above that was simply lumped into an ambiguous existence attributed to legendary figures.

“More like he wanted to dump all of his responsibilities on me so he could go off on his adventures,” Rana Saj chuffed in amusement. “My father was never one to stay still for long. There was always some far-off horizon calling for him.”

“Well, I would count that a good thing. My grandmother thought he was an impetuous brat, though.”

The temperatures rose to a comfortably balmy level as they descended into the northern pass and returned to Gor’lior. Rana Owiori met them at the base of the fortress, crossing his arms grimly.

“So you got your hides tanned out there,” he said.

“That we did,” Rana Saj replied. “We’re down by a third of what we left Gor’lior with.”

“A third! Did you all go and piss off some mountain god? What about the local tribes?”

“They lost half their warriors, as far as we can tell. Rana Pwilere was still missing by the time we departed.”

A low rumble rose from Rana Owiori’s throat. After a moment, he blew out a sigh.

“I hope nothing comes along and decides to add to our woes. Figures something would happen to offset the good news in the west.”

“Some practically useful information actually made its way out here?”

Rana Owiori snorted.

“With that Rana Dratha’s criers all across Rol’en’gorek, what do you expect? Three cities have already fallen. The Human defenders are no match for the Warmaster.”

“Three, huh….” Rana Saj stroked the long hairs of his jowls, “Well, the Humans always take a while to muster an effective defence for any major incursion. I wouldn’t declare a successful conquest just yet.”

“You sound more and more like old Goro every time I see you,” Rana Owiori turned and led them up the fortress’ spiralling approach. “I see nothing but good things coming out of this.”

“I don’t deny the benefits should we secure our hold on the Draconic Kingdom,” Rana Saj said. “Those gains will take time to develop, however. The mystics say it will take generations for us to transform it into productive jungle.”

The two Clanlords launched into an animated debate over the outcome of the western conquest and what fruit it would bear. Saraca idly gazed out over the broad pass as he was unexpectedly offered several valuable insights into the nascent nation.

“When it does happen,” Rana Owiori said, “the Jorgulans will no longer be able to withstand the pressure we put on them. Their draconic masters will have nowhere to hide from our Dragonslayers.”

“It will still be difficult,” Rana Saj replied. “By the time we see tangible improvements to our military strength, those Green Dragons will be much stronger.”

“But the fact stands that they do not trust one another, despite being allies. With sufficient pressure, they are just as likely to crumble from within.”

“We can’t assume that they’ll remain stagnant,” Rana Saj said. “Our battle with the Yeti tribes a few days ago is a painful reminder that our enemies can grow more deadly as well. What do you think, Saraca?”

Saraca turned his attention to the two Clanlords walking ahead of him.

“That would depend on what they’ve been exposed to,” he said, “which you would know more about than I. If you assume that the Jorgulan Commonwealth remains firmly in the grip of their Green Dragon masters, there are several paths that I believe such countries might take.”

The two Clanlords slowed to allow Saraca to walk between them.

“What might those be?” Rana Owiori asked.

“Well, Green Dragons are by nature treacherous and subversive. Their pride and strength tend to take them in directions that make candid collaboration and genuine friendship nearly impossible. Rana Saj has demonstrated some understanding of this.”

Rana Saj nodded.

“Yes, I was hoping that they’d turn on one another if we managed to destabilise the situation. It would save us a lot of time and trouble, but you seem to be suggesting that there are other possibilities.”

“They may not cooperate property,” Saraca said, “but they do compete to gain prestige over others of their kind. That competition extends to their minions and it can be extraordinarily vicious. It can also foster ingenuity as they strive to overcome one another. New technology, magic, techniques and modes of thinking – the introduction of these factors can result in drastic shifts in the balance of power. The ideas that drive those changes might be glaringly obvious in hindsight, but those involved are painfully blind to them until a breakthrough occurs.”

“There are some things that we hope they don’t resort to,” Rana Owiori said, “but nothing so dire that it can permanently influence the conflict. I don’t mean to boast over how far we’ve come since the ruin wrought upon us two centuries ago, but we are well advanced over our neighbours.”

Does he mean the Jorgulans, or is he saying that Rol’en’gorek is the most advanced country in the region?

Though its territory was vast, Rol’en’gorek by all appearances existed in effective isolation. They engaged in hostilities in every direction. Scarce few travelled into the Great Lut. Foreign Merchants and travellers were even rarer, never mind the presence of skilled professionals from more advanced civilisations.

One might have pointed out that they were doing extraordinarily well starting from nothing. But that assumed that they were truly isolated.

“I saw some visitors from your country in the Tears of Lut,” Saraca said. “How much do you know about Stormport?”

“I know of its existence somewhere on the other side of the Great Lut,” Rana Owiori said, “but not much more than that. The Singh clans – who mainly dwell in the south – would know more about it than us.”

“In that case,” Saraca went on, “how about the Draconic Kingdom in the west?”

“That’s twice the distance from my territory as Stormport. We know that they are by far the weakest of our neighbours.”

It appeared that he had to head west to get any answers about the Human country. Rol’en’gorek was so vast that one end knew little of the other unless intelligence was purposely sent up and down the river. Each Clanlord was still effectively a sovereign ruler of their own territory and their clan mostly saw to its own affairs.

“What would you say is potentially the most likely out of the major threats that may arise?” Rana Saj asked.

“More Dragons.”

“More Dragons?”

“Indeed,” Saraca replied. “Going by what you noted of the local Dragon ages last week, we can at least assume that the calamity of two centuries previous decimated every population in the region, including the native Dragons. The earliest batch should have grown enough to become Old Dragons by now.”

“I follow you so far,” Rana Saj said, “but where does the ‘more Dragons’ part come in?”

“Dragons reach breeding age after a century. Green Dragons allow their young to remain around their domains until they’re strong enough to strike out on their own. Since they are competing against many peers, it doesn’t take much for each Dragon to start seeing their brood as war potential.”

The wind buffeted them as the walkway wound around the northern side of the fortress. Rana Saj looked across Saraca at Rana Owiori.

“Have we seen any sign of that?”

“It’s hard to say,” the Ocelo Lord replied. “Dragons hit our forces on occasion, but it’s always weak fringe units being picked off. The rest of the time, they seem content to watch the fighting. It’s hard to tell which Dragon is which when they’re so far overhead.”

“If we follow Saraca’s line of thought,” Rana Saj said, “we should start seeing the first batch of adults from the second generation soon…how many should we expect to encounter?”

“That depends if the parents are protecting their young,” Saraca replied. “Dragons tend to not coddle the weak, even if they are of their blood. If one of their young is taken by a predator, it simply means that they weren’t suited to survive.”

The two Clanlords showed little in the way of sympathy or revulsion. Since playing and hunting in one’s youth was what amounted to ‘training’ for their adult warriors, he could imagine that the Beastmen here saw no small number of losses from unsuccessful hunts and accidents.

“What would our worst-case scenario be?” Rana Owiori asked.

“Hmm…is it one Dragon per state in the Commonwealth? Or does some other scheme dictate how their domains are distributed?”

“We don’t know. We don’t even know how many states there are in the Commonwealth. The only way we can sort any of it out is by identifying the different armies that are sent our way.”

“Do they have any banners or anything else that signifies who they represent?”

“Tribal standards only,” Rana Owiori replied. “They may all fight on the same side, but each force is independent of every other. Fighting on this frontier is akin to having an endless number of small clans grinding away at our defences in turn.”

The disdain for the Jorgulans in Rana Owiori’s voice added another important piece to the puzzle that was Rol’en’gorek’s identity as a nation. While all races that formed tribes possessed social behaviours, those behaviours still depended on the traits of each particular race. The tribes inhabiting the nations of the Jorgulan Commonwealth were members of races that were more ‘cold’ when it came to social interactions.

Even if they hadn’t been, the influence of their Green Dragon overlords would still be telling. They did not send their armies to help their friends – they sent them to fight a collective enemy as a form of competition between themselves. How well or poorly their minions did against the same enemies probably dictated the amount of prestige that each Dragon enjoyed. Even sacrificing their children for the ‘game’ was done without remorse: a strong child was proof of a strong parent…or something like that.

As such, the people of Rol’en’gorek considered themselves superior to their foes. The forces of the Jorgulan Commonwealth were considered little better than the wild tribes along their other borders. Rol’en’gorek, on the other hand, had a ‘righteous cause’ formed out of the bonds that its clans had forged over the generations.

“If you were to guess,” Saraca asked, “how many Jorgulan factions are represented on the front?”

“Hmm…three dozen along the entire front, perhaps?” Rana Saj answered, "Between those that we wipe out and the ones who never return after we throw them back, it’s hard to tell.”

“Then the worst-case scenario would leave you with a lot of Dragons,” Saraca said. “If they are purposely breeding war potential and keeping their young alive to use as future soldiers, you may have up to a hundred new Adult Dragons every year. The second generation will have begun laying their clutches now, as well.”

“I guess our Dragonslayer contingents might be busy soon,” Rana Saj said. “Hopefully, this second generation is stupid enough to attack our forces directly.”

“That would depend on the situation. If they’re on the defensive, you can somewhat count on them withdrawing to protect their lairs. This naturally singles them out for elimination, assuming they don’t just flee the Commonwealth entirely.”

Isolated Adult Green Dragons were still manageable by groups of decently strong individuals. Each of Rol’en’gorek’s ‘Dragonslayer contingents’ was more than enough to slay one. The more they killed, the more green dragonscale equipment – which provided excellent protection and conferred a degree of poison resistance – they would have to equip more Dragonslayers.

“What if we’re the ones on the defensive?”

“Then you’ll find yourselves in an impossible situation,” Saraca’s voice turned grim. “They will undermine your position by flying over it to attack the vulnerable tribes across the border. From what I’ve seen of your country so far, the only way you have to deal with that is to station Dragonslayers in every tribe.”

“And we have nowhere near enough to do that,” Rana Saj sighed. “This is more of a race than we imagined. Every year that passes, we have more of the next generation of Adult Greens to contend with. The existing ones continue to grow stronger. It’s no wonder they were content to maintain this stalemate.”

Rana Owiori shared in his fellow Clanlord’s resigned frustration.

“Just as we started to make progress in the Draconic Kingdom,” he said, “the actual Dragons are set to overwhelm us. If it takes a generation for us to begin reaping the benefits of our western expansion, we’re going to have the shadow of three thousand Dragons to our east.”

The fact that Dragons grew stronger with age was treated as common sense everywhere in the world. The whole truth that came with that fact, however, eluded most. Just like any living being, their population could grow exponentially under the right circumstances.

Fortunately, that exponential growth involved a century of maturation to reach breeding age. Unfortunately, Dragons laid clutches of eggs. Once things got to a certain point, a rampant Dragon population was next to unstoppable for primitive tribal states with no strong allies.

The need to face the monstrous threats that existed outside of civilisation was one of the primary factors that kept all states in check when it came to expansion. Military action was a risk that affected a country’s ability to defend itself against enemies that cared little for politics, diplomacy, economics or morality. Occasionally, those enemies were a catalyst for fruitful cooperation between disparate peoples.

A population of ten million produced less than a handful of Rathi-class individuals. Rather than keeping them for defence, a group of countries was better off combining their Rathis to stamp out all country-destroying threats in the vicinity. While it was not the only way, it was the most common way of achieving regional security. Or at least stability against external threats that could otherwise destroy any single nation.

The need to maintain the strength to preserve that state of security usually led to long-term alliances and all of the benefits that such cooperation brought. Out of the six central superpowers, three were founded on such an arrangement – including the Beastman Confederacy.

“Well, I did say that it was the worst-case scenario,” Saraca said. “The reality is that a few will try with varying degrees of success. For Green Dragons, one’s offspring are also one’s future competition. Having dozens around with more growing to adulthood every year is an extremely dangerous prospect.”

“Still, it’s an untenable risk for us,” Rana Owiori said. “We need to increase the pressure on Erelesa. Even if we don’t have the resources to mount a full offensive, we need to shift our objective from independent raiding to rooting out as many Dragons as we can reach.”

“I agree,” Rana Saj said. “The current status quo is merely a deception. Those damn Green Dragons really live up to their reputation. Rana Owiori, you’ll need to bring this up with the council once you get out of here.”

Saraca and his entourage parted ways with the two Clanlords when they passed his accommodations. Devi returned with her escort-turned-pack-lizards later in the evening.

“You lost,” she said.

“I didn’t lose,” Saraca replied. “We were merely observers.”

“Our hosts didn’t have anything to say about you ‘mere observers’ merely watching them get trounced?”

“We did some fighting,” Saraca told her. “If we hadn’t held where we were, their losses would be more than double what they suffered and Rana Saj would be dead. I don’t think they have any room to complain.”

“I suppose that means there are no promising mercantile opportunities out there.”

Saraca scoffed at the idea.

“Everyone out here only seems to be interested in eating the neighbours,” Saraca replied. “Our hosts included. I wouldn’t be surprised if even the Humans out here ate Beastmen.”

“Wouldn’t that be a sight to see,” Girika laughed.

“Well, with what’s happened,” Devi asked, “have our plans changed any?”

“No,” Saraca answered. “Clan Ki’ra will continue to occupy their post. It isn’t as if one can conjure armies on demand, so they’ll have to make do with what they have. How are things on your end?”

Devi cast aside her belongings and flopped down onto her litter.

“As well as can be expected for an army base. There’s no shortage of eager young warriors.”

“Did they give you any problems?”

“They didn’t give me any problems,” an amused glint entered her sapphire eyes. “They kept propositioning the guards, though.”

Saraca’s gaze went to the four guards assigned to Devi. Their looks of weary disgust said everything.

“Did they say anything to you?”

“If I wasn’t the one they were making purchases from,” Devi said, “they probably wouldn’t deign to associate with me.”

He nodded thoughtfully. In the towns and cities of Rol’en’gorek, people of all castes openly interacted with one another. In a warrior-dominated military installation, however, the segregation between castes was readily apparent.

“Well, we can swap the guard, at least. Let’s get some rest: Rana Saj wants to catch up to the other half of his forces, so we’ll be departing before dawn tomorrow.”

Snow dusted the mountains above the pass the following morning, making for a chilly departure from Gor’lior. On their way east, they periodically crossed groups of Ocelo forces relieved from their front-line duties.

“How are things out there?” Saraca asked one tribal Lord.

“Pretty good, all things considered,” the tribal Lord answered. “We got us a big catch this time. Too bad most of it was inedible.”

“Who showed up this year?”

“Serpentfolk are the vanguard. The mamba type. We had some snapping turtles and crocodiles when things got wetter, but they’ve already been dealt with.”

“Which ones are the edible ones?” Mitra asked.

“The Serpentfolk,” the Lord answered, then laughed at their reaction. “I know, right? The venomous ones are edible but the non-venomous ones are poisonous.”

The tribal Lord and his warband went on their way. Saraca caught up with the front of the Ki’ra column, going up to walk beside Rana Saj.

“These returning warriors are all in good spirits.”

“According to Rana Owiori,” Rana Saj said, “The Commonwealth lost around forty thousand. That’s twice as good as usual.”

“What does that mean for your forces?”

“Cleanup’s done, so we’re clear to the top of the pass. After that, we’ll see what’s waiting for us on the other side.”

They arrived at the top of the pass two days later. The Ki’ra forces that stayed to help clear the Jorgulan invaders were already well-situated on the other side. Saraca’s gaze turned northward, where the Worldspine loomed between the nearby peaks.

“We’re above the treeline here,” he said. “Do the northern tribes directly factor into this conflict at all? Having to contend with that new Yeti Lord would be unpleasant.”

“Rarely,” Rana Saj said. “We won’t be here at the height of winter, so clashes are next to nonexistent.”

“So you’re cut off from Rol’en’gorek past this point?”

“Nothing stops us from crossing back over,” Rana Saj said, “especially since disjointed tribes can’t do anything about an army that’s already bearing down on them. Ultimately, we don’t have any supply lines to maintain so we don’t have to worry about it. At most, it’s runners going back and forth with their reports.”

Another journey through history…

The Confederacy armies of the present-day had proper logistics. The last time they had purposely ‘foraged’ on enemy territory was three centuries ago. War was a different beast in civilised regions. Not only did a country have to mind the direct repercussions of war in highly populous lands due to negative energy accumulation, but one’s rivals sought to turn any event to their advantage.

Every conflict was met with condemnation; every battle was a horror story used to sway the sentiment of neutral parties. Just cause was necessary for everything, and, even then, all actions were scrutinised and twisted to suit the desired narrative.

He didn’t know why the major powers of the world ended up in a cluster at the centre of the continent: If any of the six central powers had instead appeared out in the unknown fringes of the world, it would have had far more room to expand without competitors constantly looking over its shoulder. Some theories asserted that the arrangement was orchestrated by beings beyond their reckoning.

“This might be a silly question,” Saraca said, “but what are the rules of engagement on this front?”

“Nature dictates the rules,” Rana Saj replied. “I understand that you have your own motives, but don’t expect our enemies to accommodate you. The tribal warbands spread out from here, so it’s not so much a front line as it is a zone of contention. You may find some tribes close enough to join a battle, but only the Dragonslayers actively respond to enemy movement on the behalf of others.”

Saraca nodded in acknowledgement.

“Now that I’m more familiar with the way of things here,” he said, “I find that your strategy is far more cunning than I first gave it credit for.”

“Well, we’ve had a long time to refine it.”

It felt simplistic at first, but there were clever nuances purposely veiled by that simplicity.

The front line of the conflict moved back and forth across the frontier with the seasons. The Commonwealth advanced to Gor’lior during the wet season, while Rol’en’gorek’s counteroffensive happened during the dry season. Armies were relieved at key turning points over the year.

Clan Ki’ra, for instance, normally arrived at Gor’lior a month after the end of the wet season. At that point, the Jorgulan armies were both overextended, exhausted, and trapped. The fresh forces that arrived to relieve the stationed army could easily decimate them, minimising losses and giving the appearance of an inexhaustible foe. The Jorgulans appeared to be none the wiser about that part of Rol’en’gorek’s strategy.

“How does everyone keep track of everyone else?” Saraca asked, “With so much independent movement, I can imagine warbands getting isolated and destroyed.”

If the local Lords had grasped the ability to communicate over long distances, it wouldn’t have been a problem. However, there was no sign that they could.

“Again,” the Rana replied, “nature decides. Weather and terrain dictate advance and retreat for both us and them, and the same environmental conditions influence the entire pass. Each warband operates according to its own capabilities.”

“I see. So we just meet at the fortress on the other side?”

“No. There is a river that runs roughly a half-dozen kilometres beyond it. That’s where we stop to reassess our situation if everything goes more or less as planned.”

Well, they always say that simple is best.

As far as plans went, it was flexible while also being difficult to broadly foil without overwhelming force. Rol’en’gorek was still very much ‘tribal’ in military composition: each tribe contributed a warband, which was carried by the prowess of its individual warriors. There was no standardised training nor strict measures to qualify a soldier. Thus, they could not operate the same way that a standing army could.

Not that it was particularly bad for how far their civilisation had come. If left to develop for several centuries, Rol’en’gorek could very well have professional militaries closer to those fielded in the more advanced parts of the continent.

Assuming they survived for that long. With the possibility of a Cycle visiting calamity upon any given part of the world, security, stability and prosperity were not a guarantee of survival. Even the proudest, most advanced states could be ruined to the same degree that Rol’en’gorek had been two centuries ago, and those they once considered primitive ended up as the more advanced.

“What of conduct between allied forces?” Saraca asked.

“While I said that each warband operates independently,” Rana Saj said, “cooperating to take down particularly stubborn positions is common practice. Everyone is focused on advancing, so there’s no need to worry about competition over prey or territory. It sounds like you want to participate as one of our warbands.”

“I think it would be a good experience,” Saraca replied. “There are still many things I don’t understand about your people or their struggles here, and war has a way of providing insights unobtainable anywhere else.”

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