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Autumn, 1424
Much to Jayna’s relief, three days later the Arcadian forces reached the foothills of the Betakinin Range. There had been minimal opposition, a few skirmishers on the paths and some light cavalry harassing the flanks. Mera quickly drove them off.
They were through.
The Great Back Valley March from Goldsboro to Flaxfield, a distance of nearly 400 miles, was done in 38 days, during which the Arcadians marched across five themes, ascended two mountain ranges, forded nine rivers and passed through seven cities, fighting five battles while evading three Imperial Armies. Their wagons, arquebus and heliographs, as well as the dragon and his half-animal friends, had been instrumental in their success, preventing the rebels from being crushed between the multiple prongs of the Jamersonian vice.
It had not come without cost of course. The Arcadians had suffered heavy losses, and even reinforced was down to 11400 troops, almost half the number that had set out more than a month before.
Still they had done what no one, not even the Other Men during the Great War, had ever done: cross through the Back Valley and two mountain ranges in a single season while retaining combat effectiveness. Jayna, Chagraff and the Arcadians were eager for battle.
After the epic retreat across the breadth of Nalbin, the Battle for the Flaxfield was almost an afterthought. Completely caught by surprise, with the Imperial defenses throughout Nalbin stripped to reinforce the Grand Imperial Army and two of the three nearby Themes refusing to reinforce the defenders, only two thousand Imperials and six thousand militiamen stood to oppose the rebels. Within eighteen minutes, the militia were scattered, half turned on their own side, and the Imperials were cut to pieces, with Strategos Stevenson of Volscia wounded and captured.
With that, Arcadia had been successfully re-established in Betakinin Sound.
After cleaning the battlefield the next morning-scavenging, tending the wounded and rounding prisoners- the little army reached the Ruins of Satrium that evening, moving along the large abandoned thoroughfares of this ghost town.
The army marched silently. They had been victorious the day before, but it seemed to pale in comparison to the ghosts of the epic struggles etched onto the ruins all around them.
King John’s capital at Satrium had been largely destroyed during the Great War, when two-thirds of the city’s resident population of 50000 were slaughtered in a horrific massacre immediately after the brutal eight-month siege by the Tassurian invaders that cost another 60000 attackers and 90000 defenders. The city never recovered from that devastation; King Owain transferred the capital back to Caldren, and the surviving inhabitants either moved away or slowly died with the cursed city. By the end of the Freeland Rebellion, back-and-forth fighting had reduced the once-proud city to a dozen small villages clinging to survival. These were quickly consumed by the plague that followed, and the survivors finally gave up and moved to start a new settlement. New Santium had been built a few miles away and was now one of the most important towns on the Flaxfield, while Old Santium was left to gradually sink back into earth. As the Arcadians moved through, the former Auxian capital looked more like a cemetery, the ruined buildings having eroded over a century into little more than giant cairns, with various vegetation poking out among the rubble. Only in a few scattered locations were walls of collapsed buildings still visible, hinting at the unnaturalness of the place.
“It looks like the City of the Dead.” Mera muttered to himself.
“Hildebrand? This is what it is like?” Jayna asked.
“Yes. I didn't like it.”
“No one ventures to the cursed city.” The Arcadian leader cursed. “That's why we steered miles away from it.”
“Your father visited with the Plague-Giver to collect his plague. He went off without me one night. Came back saying there were spectral ogres in the fog.”
“Ogres haven't been seen in decades.”
Something suddenly caught Jayna’s eye, and she glanced back. For a second the Arcadian leader thought she saw a ghostly giant loom out from among the ruins, before it disappeared, leaving her to wonder if it had been there at all. Jayna shook her head.
Mera did not appear to notice, continuing his conversation.
“Good. I hope Old Santium isn't haunted. Hildebrand was filled with ghosts, and I have enough ghosts to deal with already.”
***
As the day turned to night, the mood did change for the better; the oppressive evening fog dissipated, revealing hundreds of twinkling stars above. Here in the city center, the destruction had been so complete that little more than low mounds and piles of rubble remained, making a wide, comfortable defensive position. While the rest of the Arcadian forces camped out among the ruins of the city center, Jayna, Chagraff and Mera bedded down by a fire amidst shapeless stones high upon the hill that once was the seat of the Kingdom of Auxia. Campfires twinkled like fireflies all around them below.
After supper Mera’s humor also appeared to have improved, and he was talkative. Laying by the fire, the dragon idly pointed to the low, amorphous rubble scattered about the Arcadian leaders. “I also marched in this city during the Great War, more than ninety years ago now. I remember the charred, hollowed buildings, filled with empty windows like so many sightless eyes. I never thought I’d come back to this place. But here I am. It looks more peaceful now.”
Jayna laughed. “Back in this haunted city.”
“Perhaps my earlier assessment was too negative. Old Santium has become moody and evocative, yes. But I don’t sense anything; the dead here are dead, and they can do no more harm.” The dragon tapped upon a particularly high mound that was once the seat of King John’s Throne. “Just another story to tell.”
Jayna smiled, taking another swig of ale.
“This is just like old times then? When you were fighting in the Great War with grandbaba?”
The old dragon chuckled. “To some extent.”
The Arcadian leader sighed, leaning back against what remained of a stone wall with her hands behind her head.
“Sometimes I wonder what it would have been like, fighting in the Age of Heroes.”
Mera cocked his head sideways. “Hm?”
“Why couldn’t people today be like they were when you and my grandfather fought the Other Men?”
“What do you mean?”
“People were smarter, braver, more responsible, more willing to sacrifice themselves for the greater good, happier back then than now.”
The dragon snorted. “What are you talking about? People are as stupid and cowardly and selfish and miserable then as they are now.”
“Stanton sent two thousand soldiers to fight in the Great War-”
“-from a region of thirty thousand people. This was before the Scarlet Plague. Four hundred returned.”
“They volunteered-”
“They thought they had to, lest the Other Men burn their homes rape their women and slaughter their children.”
“They covered themselves in glory-”
“Stanton lost many good people. I remember the black crepes, the homes that were never filled again, the families that just vanished. I lost many good friends in that war. And the next one. And the one after it.”
The dragon paused. “And you know, I would give up all the glory in the world to have them back. People always think the past is better. But it’s as hard and miserable as it is now, probably even worse. Only when you can ignore all the pain and suffering do things look good.”
Mera frowned.
“Perhaps that is what ghosts are good for. To remind us of ancient horrors, lest we think too fondly upon the past.”
Then the dragon fell silent.
For a long time, the only sound was the crackle of the campfire. Jayna was frowning into her mug when Mera suddenly leaned over and nuzzled the Arcadian leader. “Trust me Jayna, you guys are doing well. Everything you’ve gone through, despite the mistakes and reverses. You've done well.”
The Arcadian commander was at first shocked, then went quiet as well, the sound of the crackling fire drifting over the encampment.
“I appreciate that Mera.” She finally said. “That’s good. That’s really good.”
Neutral Milk Hotel - Ghost
From
Chickenzaur!
Much to Jayna’s relief, three days later the Arcadian forces reached the foothills of the Betakinin Range. There had been minimal opposition, a few skirmishers on the paths and some light cavalry harassing the flanks. Mera quickly drove them off.
They were through.
The Great Back Valley March from Goldsboro to Flaxfield, a distance of nearly 400 miles, was done in 38 days, during which the Arcadians marched across five themes, ascended two mountain ranges, forded nine rivers and passed through seven cities, fighting five battles while evading three Imperial Armies. Their wagons, arquebus and heliographs, as well as the dragon and his half-animal friends, had been instrumental in their success, preventing the rebels from being crushed between the multiple prongs of the Jamersonian vice.
It had not come without cost of course. The Arcadians had suffered heavy losses, and even reinforced was down to 11400 troops, almost half the number that had set out more than a month before.
Still they had done what no one, not even the Other Men during the Great War, had ever done: cross through the Back Valley and two mountain ranges in a single season while retaining combat effectiveness. Jayna, Chagraff and the Arcadians were eager for battle.
After the epic retreat across the breadth of Nalbin, the Battle for the Flaxfield was almost an afterthought. Completely caught by surprise, with the Imperial defenses throughout Nalbin stripped to reinforce the Grand Imperial Army and two of the three nearby Themes refusing to reinforce the defenders, only two thousand Imperials and six thousand militiamen stood to oppose the rebels. Within eighteen minutes, the militia were scattered, half turned on their own side, and the Imperials were cut to pieces, with Strategos Stevenson of Volscia wounded and captured.
With that, Arcadia had been successfully re-established in Betakinin Sound.
After cleaning the battlefield the next morning-scavenging, tending the wounded and rounding prisoners- the little army reached the Ruins of Satrium that evening, moving along the large abandoned thoroughfares of this ghost town.
The army marched silently. They had been victorious the day before, but it seemed to pale in comparison to the ghosts of the epic struggles etched onto the ruins all around them.
King John’s capital at Satrium had been largely destroyed during the Great War, when two-thirds of the city’s resident population of 50000 were slaughtered in a horrific massacre immediately after the brutal eight-month siege by the Tassurian invaders that cost another 60000 attackers and 90000 defenders. The city never recovered from that devastation; King Owain transferred the capital back to Caldren, and the surviving inhabitants either moved away or slowly died with the cursed city. By the end of the Freeland Rebellion, back-and-forth fighting had reduced the once-proud city to a dozen small villages clinging to survival. These were quickly consumed by the plague that followed, and the survivors finally gave up and moved to start a new settlement. New Santium had been built a few miles away and was now one of the most important towns on the Flaxfield, while Old Santium was left to gradually sink back into earth. As the Arcadians moved through, the former Auxian capital looked more like a cemetery, the ruined buildings having eroded over a century into little more than giant cairns, with various vegetation poking out among the rubble. Only in a few scattered locations were walls of collapsed buildings still visible, hinting at the unnaturalness of the place.
“It looks like the City of the Dead.” Mera muttered to himself.
“Hildebrand? This is what it is like?” Jayna asked.
“Yes. I didn't like it.”
“No one ventures to the cursed city.” The Arcadian leader cursed. “That's why we steered miles away from it.”
“Your father visited with the Plague-Giver to collect his plague. He went off without me one night. Came back saying there were spectral ogres in the fog.”
“Ogres haven't been seen in decades.”
Something suddenly caught Jayna’s eye, and she glanced back. For a second the Arcadian leader thought she saw a ghostly giant loom out from among the ruins, before it disappeared, leaving her to wonder if it had been there at all. Jayna shook her head.
Mera did not appear to notice, continuing his conversation.
“Good. I hope Old Santium isn't haunted. Hildebrand was filled with ghosts, and I have enough ghosts to deal with already.”
***
As the day turned to night, the mood did change for the better; the oppressive evening fog dissipated, revealing hundreds of twinkling stars above. Here in the city center, the destruction had been so complete that little more than low mounds and piles of rubble remained, making a wide, comfortable defensive position. While the rest of the Arcadian forces camped out among the ruins of the city center, Jayna, Chagraff and Mera bedded down by a fire amidst shapeless stones high upon the hill that once was the seat of the Kingdom of Auxia. Campfires twinkled like fireflies all around them below.
After supper Mera’s humor also appeared to have improved, and he was talkative. Laying by the fire, the dragon idly pointed to the low, amorphous rubble scattered about the Arcadian leaders. “I also marched in this city during the Great War, more than ninety years ago now. I remember the charred, hollowed buildings, filled with empty windows like so many sightless eyes. I never thought I’d come back to this place. But here I am. It looks more peaceful now.”
Jayna laughed. “Back in this haunted city.”
“Perhaps my earlier assessment was too negative. Old Santium has become moody and evocative, yes. But I don’t sense anything; the dead here are dead, and they can do no more harm.” The dragon tapped upon a particularly high mound that was once the seat of King John’s Throne. “Just another story to tell.”
Jayna smiled, taking another swig of ale.
“This is just like old times then? When you were fighting in the Great War with grandbaba?”
The old dragon chuckled. “To some extent.”
The Arcadian leader sighed, leaning back against what remained of a stone wall with her hands behind her head.
“Sometimes I wonder what it would have been like, fighting in the Age of Heroes.”
Mera cocked his head sideways. “Hm?”
“Why couldn’t people today be like they were when you and my grandfather fought the Other Men?”
“What do you mean?”
“People were smarter, braver, more responsible, more willing to sacrifice themselves for the greater good, happier back then than now.”
The dragon snorted. “What are you talking about? People are as stupid and cowardly and selfish and miserable then as they are now.”
“Stanton sent two thousand soldiers to fight in the Great War-”
“-from a region of thirty thousand people. This was before the Scarlet Plague. Four hundred returned.”
“They volunteered-”
“They thought they had to, lest the Other Men burn their homes rape their women and slaughter their children.”
“They covered themselves in glory-”
“Stanton lost many good people. I remember the black crepes, the homes that were never filled again, the families that just vanished. I lost many good friends in that war. And the next one. And the one after it.”
The dragon paused. “And you know, I would give up all the glory in the world to have them back. People always think the past is better. But it’s as hard and miserable as it is now, probably even worse. Only when you can ignore all the pain and suffering do things look good.”
Mera frowned.
“Perhaps that is what ghosts are good for. To remind us of ancient horrors, lest we think too fondly upon the past.”
Then the dragon fell silent.
For a long time, the only sound was the crackle of the campfire. Jayna was frowning into her mug when Mera suddenly leaned over and nuzzled the Arcadian leader. “Trust me Jayna, you guys are doing well. Everything you’ve gone through, despite the mistakes and reverses. You've done well.”
The Arcadian commander was at first shocked, then went quiet as well, the sound of the crackling fire drifting over the encampment.
“I appreciate that Mera.” She finally said. “That’s good. That’s really good.”
Neutral Milk Hotel - Ghost
From
Chickenzaur!
Category Artwork (Digital) / Fantasy
Species Western Dragon
Size 2048 x 2048px
File Size 424.1 kB
"The dragon paused. “And you know, I would give up all the glory in the world to have them back. People always think the past is better. But it’s as hard and miserable as it is now, probably even worse. Only when you can ignore all the pain and suffering do things look good.”
And he's absolutely right. We all idealise the past a little, and I'm prone to doing so myself. For example, 2000 year and 2000s on the whole seems like one of the best years, even also though there were difficulties in life back then. It seems like the best because the unpleasant things are filtered out and not remembered, and beauty always pops into my head; that's just how memory works for some reason.
And he's absolutely right. We all idealise the past a little, and I'm prone to doing so myself. For example, 2000 year and 2000s on the whole seems like one of the best years, even also though there were difficulties in life back then. It seems like the best because the unpleasant things are filtered out and not remembered, and beauty always pops into my head; that's just how memory works for some reason.
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