H - 146: A Beacon of Civilization (Patreon)

Everyone stared at the sprawling magical map in silence, lost in their own thoughts for a protracted moment.

“Clarent,” Kaln said finally, “you’ve the most on-the-ground experience with living in the Evervales. Can you please summarize the situation with the Cryptlands, with regard to what mortals in the vicinity have to deal with? The, ah…most shortened version, if you would.”

“The most shortened version, my lord? Very well.” Face deadpan, Clarent pointed at the Cryptlands on the map. “There are zombies in there.”

Everyone turned to stare at him, most in overt disapproval, Zhiiji and Vadaralshi with broad grins. As usual, his aplomb remained unruffled, even upon being visibly disapproved of by three elder dragons.

“Forgive the ill-timed little jest, my lord, but in truth the full and exhaustively detailed version is probably about the size you were expecting when you asked. We simply know very little about the Cryptlands; it’s not as if espionage or diplomacy are options. They’ve been like this as long as the Dread has ruled the skies above the Vales, and are widely assumed to have done this to themselves as a way to resist him. The Cryptlands are another relic of the Lost Century—a gap in everyone’s records, but particularly here in the Evervales.”

“I fear we can add little to that, husband,” said Emeralaphine. “That was before any of us were present here, either, and Atraximos never deigned to speak of the capital. When asked, he angrily rebuffed questions in that way he did when embarrassed about something. I infer that this means the Valeri did succeed in driving him back. At any rate, he never bothered to attack what is now the Cryptlands in the time I have been here.”

“Undead had nothing to offer him,” Tiavathyris added quietly. “They know no fear and cannot suffer. They only fight, relentless, implacable. For a brute such as him, there was no sport in it.”

“If we need to know the details, I could probably conjure him up,” Emeralaphine said with an unpleasant grin. “I have rarely dabbled in necromancy, but I understand the theory well enough.”

Izayaroa slammed her tail emphatically against the floor. “Let us leave that beast in whatever hell claimed him.”

“Are you sure?” Emeralaphine said, her grin widening. “It should be possible to bind his consciousness to something small and helpless. And then take him somewhere for the local children to poke with sticks when we’re done. I’d have to consult my spellbooks, but there’s no reason—”

“Emeralaphine, please,” Kaln interrupted. “Measures like that are exigencies for a crisis, which this is not. And I’m afraid Clarent beat you to the role of wasting time with jokes.”

“I shall be sure to let you take the next one, my lady,” Clarent said gallantly, bowing to the white dragon.

“You mentioned a capital,” Kaln continued. “Was the capital of something in the Cryptlands?”

“Of an empire, husband,” Emeralaphine said, nodding. “The Empire.”

“You are looking at what remains of Val Alarond, my lord,” said Clarent, as Emeralaphine gestured and the map changed, the Cryptlands swelling until they occupied the entire space in much greater detail with all else vanished beyond the border. “The first and original home of the Valeri people, who would come to encompass all us northern folk of the mountains and valleys. They were too proud to accept death or defeat; even as their Empire burned, the Valeri at its heart turned to ever more desperate measures against the rampage of the dread dragon, until they did to themselves… Whatever they did, which has left them in that state to this day.”

Kaln narrowed his eyes. “The Scroll of the Phantom Legion was a known treasure of the Valereld Empire, and it was in his hoard. Obviously they didn’t completely fend him off.”

Clarent nodded. “The city is, as you can see, enormous. Even the Dread couldn’t have pillaged the entire thing in an afternoon. And it’s not as if they passively sat by and let him, either. The details of whatever back and forth ensued are now lost, but it’s clear both parties had their victories.”

“The city…” Blinking, Kaln leaned forward. “Wait. I took that for a forest at—the entire valley is a city? Countless heavens, I think that’s bigger than Dragonvale!”

“Similar in size, in fact,” Clarent agreed.

“Did…the undead build it up that way?”

“They have definitely been at work,” the spymaster said seriously, “building and rebuilding, over the centuries. Any damage the Dread caused is long since repaired—and in fact, they have renovated the entire place such that it is now of a consistent architectural style which was not present in the days of the old Empire. You might call it…necromancy classic. Many decorative skulls and bone motifs, some truly unpleasant gargoyles…things glowing which ordinarily wouldn’t, in needlessly grim colors. Val Alarond is now a sprawling necropolis, which we know as the Cryptlands. But in fact, my lord, the city was that size before the Dread came along. That much was the work of the Valeri.”

“It was truly a city of wonders in its day,” Izayaroa said in a quietly mournful tone. “A beacon of civilization unmatched upon the world. You see the way the mountains are arranged, husband? Geography is, up to a point, destiny. The earliest Valeri built their capital in that caldera within the low mountain in the center—an eminently fortifiable position. Their kingdom expanded to encompass the surrounding valley, because it was fully encircled by impassable mountains with only a few passes, making it one of the most defensible kingdoms which ever existed. Unassailable, the Valeri were at first neutral and defense-minded, becoming arbiters and negotiators among the surrounding kingdoms. Their Empire, at first, grew much the way the Amaar-Darash Hegemony did: by consent. Then, surrounded by tribes which did not thus consent, they first defended themselves against raiders, expanded to pacify their borders, and ultimately stretched their dominion until it was bordered only by the coasts, the Highlands, and the Reaches.”

“The original city expanded to cover what had been its own fields,” Clarent continued, “once they controlled much larger fields around the mountains. Those valleys encircling the Cryptlands are mostly forested today, but when cleared, they are astonishingly fertile farmland. The Evervales suffers a relative lack of flat land suitable for farming, but what little we have is tremendously productive. I’m told it has to do with this region having been highly volcanic, eons ago.”

“Valereld produced enough grain to not only feed their colossal capital and empire, but to export,” Izayaroa added. “Valeri wheat sustained Rhivaak for many years, until my people completed the waterworks which have made the seasonal floods regular and controllable. That is why the Rhiva still have a traditional bread culture, despite being a mostly rice-eating society.”

“Fascinating,” Kaln whispered. “I fancy myself a decently well-read fellow, but I’m embarrassed to admit I knew only bits and pieces of that.”

“We Valefolk haven’t been of much significance to the broader world in centuries, my lord,” said Clarent. “Even among us, not that many find it worthwhile to know the details of our history. Until you came along, mere survival was an overwhelming concern.”

“Well,” Kaln said more briskly, “speaking as one fully capable of getting lost in history, we must resist the temptation.”

“Too late,” Vadaralshi muttered.

“What of the undead now?” Kaln asked.

“Fairly standard, as undead hordes go,” said Clarent. “The Cryptlands undead are not contagious; it is not a proper plague of undeath, which forfends several of the worst case scenarios. They do seek to expand their numbers, and it is widely thought that this is the reason for their hostility. When they attack beyond their borders, it always appears that their primary objective is to kill as many as possible and abscond with their remains. Over the centuries, records have shown their encountered types to begin increasingly favoring constructs and specters above reanimated corpses, and of the latter, skeletons have begun to outnumber zombies. Captured or fallen subjects increasingly show signs of reconstruction, too. While initially, it appears the population of Val Alarond were used to form the horde, they are more and more the work of necromancers.”

Kaln nodded. “So bolstering their numbers is their primary goal.”

“And their defensive advantage has strategically hobbled them,” Tiavathyris added. “With powerful defenses behind which to hunker down, they became overly prone to relying on it. Present company excepted, undead tend to have quite simple minds and motivations.”

“The Phantom Legion are another element which may have skewed your perspective, husband,” Emeralaphine explained. “The Hegemony’s mages were exceptional until the very last. Unless immense care is taken and power employed by highly skilled mages, the subjects of necromancy usually have…heavily simplified consciousness.”

“They make poor soldiers,” Tiavathyris noted. “Fearsome in that they lack all morale issues and have limitless stamina, and most types need limited supplies, but utterly unable to adapt to new tactics. Undead armies cannot function at all unless actively controlled by necromancers, and they require much heavier bolstering by mages than most forces. The result of an undead army is usually initial success as their numbers and relentlessness overwhelms defenders, followed by slow but equally inexorable defeat as their enemies adapt and they cannot.”

“That sounds like what the Cryptlands have shown us,” Clarent agreed, “save that the kingdoms closest to them are now heavily fortified and it’s been a good few decades since they made any significant gains. They attack only sporadically in force, though they send out small raiding parties with some regularity, and their scouts have been spotted everywhere in the Vales, as far away as the Nourdells and the Reaches. Those are the reasons Valefolk tend to attack hooded, cloaked individuals alone on the roads on sight.”

“Who’s leading them?” Kaln asked. “It sounds like they have some kind of strategy, but if the individual undead can’t think the way our Legionaries can…there has to be somebody in there giving orders.”

“Indeed, sir, that is the assumption,” said Clarent, nodding, “but we know nothing of this governing intelligence. Centuries ago, some of the more complex undead who engaged Vale defenders would scream about treason, so on some level they think of themselves as the true Valeri, or at least used to. It’s been many decades since any have tried to communicate at all. Given the lack of variation in their patterns, it’s widely believed that the mastermind behind the hordes was also affected by undeath, and has a limited ability to think. Hence their excessive tactical and strategic conservatism.”

“And…everything we know about the Cryptlands comes from engaging their forces outside their borders?”

“Mostly, my lord,” Clarent answered. “There have been incursions into the Cryptlands; it’s one of the tasks assigned to the most powerful adventuring parties during times when there’s little for them to do. It is highly dangerous and relatively unproductive work; nothing much has changed in there for at least two hundred years. There have also been large-scale crusades organized to attack the Cryptlands, though the last was more than a century ago. No one ever gets far in; modern adventurers given the assignment rarely try, prioritizing their ability to return and report.”

Kaln nodded, frowning at the map. “All right. Thank you for the information, everyone. So… This is where our little death goddess is going. That’s…suggestive. Clarent.”

“Sir?”

“When you commission those hazard reports from the adventuring guilds, I want you to inform them of everything we know about her, including the fact that she’s on a beeline for the Cryptlands and that’s why we’re asking. This is shaping up to be something the rest of the Vales may need to know about and I want to give them the maximum possible warning.”

“Yes, my lord—a fine idea. That should yield both strategic and diplomatic benefits for Dragonvale.”

Izayaroa nodded deeply in approval.

“And with that somewhat more detailed explanation than I originally hoped,” Kaln went on, “I’d better get on with current business before this turns into something new. Ralshi, Zhiiji, thanks for waiting.”

“All good, boss, I’ve got meals prepped and waiting in the preservation box and Spooky can handle the rest,” Zhiiji assured him. “And we all know this one has no social life.”

“Sometimes,” Vadaralshi said, swiveling her whole neck around to speak to the Hiiri from inches away, “you talk to me like you’ve forgotten how bite-sized your furry ass is.”

Zhiiji grinned and lightly punched her nose.

“This is a social mission,” Kaln continued, “so I don’t want to give offense to our friends by rushing, but I’ll try not to dawdle either. Depending on what happens, we might be back by tonight. If we end up staying overnight, we’ll be home straight after breakfast. It’s a few minutes’ flight by dragon.”

“Yes, sir,” said Wirven, saluting. “Remember that the Rhiva delegation is scheduled to arrive just after noon tomorrow. Given Rhivaak’s importance, they should not be kept waiting.”

“Ah, yes, they’re probably nearing the border already,” said Kaln. “Thanks for the reminder, Wirven. Commander.”

“Sir?”

“Punctuality is a virtue in Rhiva culture, even more than most, and like any diplomats, the emissaries will try to arrive early at the border to give themselves time and proceed exactly as fast as necessary from there to be present at the appointed hour. I know your people will want to escort them from the border; make sure the Legionaries who meet them allow the emissaries to set their own pace of travel.”

“Understood, sir!” Sharamin saluted. “It won’t be a problem, we’re very familiar with that maneuver. I will see to it the border guards are briefed.”

“Thank you, Timir. And thank all of you,” Kaln added, then flickered across the space between them to land seated astride Vadaralshi’s neck, whereupon Zhiiji began clambering athletically up to sit behind him. “We’ll be back soon; I know I can leave Dragonvale in your care with complete confidence. C’mon, Ralshi, let’s go grab us some beef!”