Schism, Pt. 1

[Spaero]

Short background: This story grew out of several threads asking what would happen between Feora and Vindictus following the events of Wrath. A few of us thought this could lead to outright civil war, and though Doug Seacat stepped in and pretty much quieted down those ideas, I thought it might be fun to explore the possibility. All of the characters and troop numbers I name are pulled directly from the source books, and I've tried to stay true to each character's motivations. The events in this story take place roughly one year after those of Wrath.

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Temple of Menoth, Imer

The armored woman burst suddenly into the office, trailed by a pair of confused Flameguard. “Protector! I bring news of the utmost importance!”
Feora looked up from her duty rosters and expenditure reports. Her subordinate’s face showed the truth of her words, so the warcaster waved the guards back to their posts. “Nicia. Come, sit down and give your report.”
“Thank you, Priestess. I have just received word from our units attached to the Northern Crusade: Hierarch Severius is returned to the Creator, brought down by a Cryxian surprise assault outside Elginsburg. Vice Scrutator Vindictus has taken command of the Crusade and ordered a full displacement back to Protectorate lands.”
The warcaster leaned back in her chair and tented her fingers. “So Vindictus has assumed command of the Crusade and ordered an immediate return to Imer. Interesting… Thank you for your report, Nicia. May the Maker of Man look with favor upon your service. Send word to Thyra to gather the commanders and meet me here by vespers tonight. I wish you to attend as well, so that we might hear your report again in full.”
“Yes, Priestess. Menoth’s blessings be upon you.” The captain of the Daughters of the Flame rose and exited the room, leaving Feora alone in her headquarters. Suddenly the expenses seemed far less important, the duty rosters almost irrelevant. The game had shifted from a long-standing match of chess between herself and the scrutators into a fast-paced battle for dominance, something with which she was far more familiar. She thought for a few more minutes and then dashed off several letters and orders to various subordinates and supporters. She took almost the entire rest of the evening to encode them and seal them with the sigil of the Flameguard, carefully avoiding the use of her personal identifier. As she sealed the last packet there came a knock at her door, and a servant’s voice called in to her that the commanders had assembled in the headquarters chamber. Feora gathered up the missives and crossed the hallway to the larger planning room where her soldiers had gathered.
A large map of Immoren was painted onto the surface of the massive table in exquisite detail, with several markers indicating various garrisons and deployed units. The largest detachment was the Northern Crusade, which had already been repositioned to indicate a forced march south. Around the table stood five people wearing the uniforms of the Flameguard and three whose robes marked them as visgoths, the governing caste of the Protectorate. Each greeted the warcaster as she entered. One of the visgoths stepped toward her as she neared the table, saying “Priestess, we have only heard rumors of what has transpired. Tell us truly, is the Hierarch dead?”
A grim look settled on Feora’s face. “Yes, Visgoth Jasrun, Severius has passed to Urcaen. It appears he fell victim to a surprise assault by Cryxian forces.” Raising her voice to be heard over the explosion of concerned exclamations, she continued, “Command of the Crusade’s remaining forces has fallen to Vice Scrutator Vindictus. It appears from our information that he has ordered a full return to the Protectorate, forsaking our gains in Ios and Khador for reasons unknown to us.”
Another visgoth spoke, this time Lars Elimon. Elimon, though a senior scrutator himself, oversaw the defense and armament of the Temple and had demonstrated a fierce loyalty to the Protector. “Surely you cannot be so naïve as not to guess his intentions, Feora. He brings his armies back to Imer to be appointed Severius’ successor as Hierarch. This is no different from a year ago when he came at the Hierarch’s orders to castigate you for allying with Raelthorne. He seeks to capitalize upon your perceived mistakes for his own personal gain.”
The Protector nodded. “I see the wisdom in your words, your holiness. The question then becomes whether we believe he has enough support to win the election. With the three of you, and Visgoth Sollers at Tower Judgment, I fear we only have enough support to block him in conclave if each of our supporters holds firm. Do you agree with my assessment?”
Ark Razek spoke up. As overseer of the artificers in the Protectorate, he controlled the means of producing the powerful warjacks that led the armies of Menoth into battle. “I think we can count on each of us and Enjorran Sollers as well. With the right leverage, we might be able to sway Visgoth Nestore as well, and that would put us at five votes in the Synod, enough to name a Hierarch… if we can guarantee the support of the Flameguard, and the Exemplar and Reclaimant Orders as well. We visgoths might be the only ones voting, but we listen to the Orders as well. It is only pragmatic. But who shall we nominate? Surely not one of us – the Harbinger passed us over when she elevated Severius, and there is no reason to believe she would not do so again.”
Feora leaned forward, placing both hands on the table and allowing a fierce smile to cross her face. “Honored visgoths, I believe it is time for a Hierarch to be elevated who does not bear the title of scrutator. I believe this Protectorate needs to acknowledge its true military potential, starting with this Flameguard. I will be the candidate.” At this the visgoths gasped and exclaimed their surprise, but the Flameguard officers maintained their stoic silence. Thyra especially seemed to be paying the map more attention than the meeting.
Finally Visgoth Elimon gained control of himself and his colleagues. “Protector, this is most irregular. You have our unquestioned support in the defense of this nation, but surely you realize the danger and folly of this step? Declaring yourself Hierarch – for this is what the clergy will see our actions as, make no mistake – will divide the faithful more surely than even declaring rebellion against a legitimate Hierarch!”
At this the Flameguard officers broke their silence. Flameguard Sovereign Olaf Izdain, originally a Khadoran convert, spoke quietly and in measured tones. “Her holiness is a member of your priestly order, and has the experience and command to lead this Protectorate to its greatest heights in worship of the Creator. If it costs us in blood and treasure surely the creation of His holy nation here on Caen is worth any price.” The Cleanser and Daughters at the table nodded their firm agreement.
Elimon sighed and shook his head. “I will do what I can to support you in The Synod, Feora. But Menoth have mercy on our souls if we should fail, for Vindictus will have none.” Jasrun and Razek promised their support as well.
Standing straight again, the warcaster looked into the eyes of each of the commanders assembled. “Good. I have here messages to Visgoth Senior Scrutator Sollers at Tower Judgment and Visgoth Senior Scrutator Nestore here in Imer, asking for their support both in the Synod and in confronting the unrest this is sure to provoke. I also have written messages to Grand Exemplar Kreoss, Grand Paladin Boridor, and the Testament requesting personal meetings with each when they reach Imer. Those will be tense meetings, and I want to be sure of our support in the Synod before I sit them. Can we be sure of our votes in three days?” Seeing nods of agreement, she continued. “Sovereign Izdain, you are ordered to prepare the Flameguard for protracted conflict. Restrict patrols as necessary, but double your training schedule and make sure you have the weapons and equipment you need. Visgoth Razek, I would appreciate the support of the artificers in bringing our warjacks up to battle readiness. Visgoth Jasrun, I will give you whatever support you need to ensure that the supplies of Menoth’s Fury remain constant. Thank you all for your time and your support. May Menoth smile on our efforts.” With a bow and a murmured prayer, each of the visgoths left the room, as did the Flameguard officers. “Thyra, Nicia, stay a moment.” The two Daughters of the Flame turned back and took up spots nearer the head of the table. “How many Daughters do we have not attached to the Crusade?”
Thyra responded cautiously, “Vice Preceptor Vane has over twenty thousand of our Flameguard, but only eight hundred of those are Daughters. Another four hundred have been dispatched to Icthier, and a similar number to Tower Judgment. That leaves just over two hundred Daughters of the Flame here in Imer. What would you ask of us, Priestess?”
Feora considered her options pensively. “And you would be able to contact Saxon Orrik again should you need mercenary support?”
“Yes, milady, but…”

[Spaero]

The senior warcaster silenced her with a raised hand. ?We must not forsake any tools in our fight for the Creator. Orrik served us well, if some of his men did not. That makes him useful. Now, I want you to take one hundred hand-picked women north from Tower Judgment. You will launch precision attacks at Corvis and Fort Falk, but you will not take either city. You must strike and fall back immediately. The timing of these assaults must be flawless, Thyra. I am counting on you.?
?Priestess, I do not understand. Why are we provoking Cygnar to war as we face civil war ourselves??
Here a slow grin crept across the Protector?s face. ?Because we will not be provoking the Usurper to attack the Protectorate itself, rather the returning forces of the Northern Crusade. My message to the Grand Exemplar suggested that he devote his forces to protecting against threats to the east, leaving Vindictus? main army vulnerable to the Cygnaran retaliation. Do you see now, Flame of Sorrow??
?Yes, Priestess. I think we can accomplish this task. I will take Nicia and a small bodyguard to Sul and enlist the aid of the Umber Guard. Laili Emonhofa is a friend of mine and a great commanding officer; her Daughters are the finest force we can muster. Nicia will lead the assault on Fort Falk, while I make the more difficult attack on Corvis myself. Are we going to have warjacks to support us??
?I can release Blood of Martyrs and a handful of Dervishes and Devouts, but the bulk of our strength will have to remain here to confront what remains of Vindictus? forces when he arrives. Go, prepare your soldiers. Menoth?s blessings upon your blades.?
?And upon you, Protector.?

Seat of the Northern Crusade, Leryn

Your Holiness, a message from Vice Scrutator Bodalin in Imer.? Vindictus, praying in his command tent, sighed. ?Bring it in.? After the messenger departed, he studied the letter: Official parchment, stamped with the visgoth?s personal sigil and the menofix signifying an official document, both of which were intact, and a black ribbon signifying an intelligence report. Breaking the seals, he unfolded the parchment to see a block of coded text. He spent twenty minutes decoding the document, after which he read with growing concern:

To the Commander of the Northern Crusade, in the name of Menoth, Vice Scrutator Vindictus:

The Protector has acted as you predicted. As soon as word of the passing of Hierarch Severius, peace be upon him, reached her office, she summoned her Flameguard commanders to her headquarters. Also in attendance were the Visgoths Lars Elimon, Ark Razek, and Morgimer Jasrun. Of these I most fear Elimon ? for one of our own priestly order to ally himself with the Flameguard sends a dangerous signal to the others in the Synod.
What was said in the meeting, I can only speculate, but immediately afterwards the Protector sent messages to Tower Judgment ? I can only assume to Visgoth Sollers ? and to Visgoth Nestore. A third was sent to your headquarters, though I know not to whom. I believe these messages are calls for further support in her plans. All indications point to a plan for her to be elected Hierarch, and she is arming the Flameguard to support that move.
She did not approach me or Visgoth Vesher for support, and there is no indication from Sul that she approached Visgoth Rhoven either. We stand firm in our support of you for to ascend to the Hierarchy. My suggestion would be to pay a personal visit to Visgoths Nestore, Sollers, and Jasrun before the Synod is assembled, to shore up your own support and weaken hers. I fear she intends to widen this confrontation to include the martial orders, so conversations with the Grand Exemplar, Grand Paladin, and Testament of Menoth would also be advised. I do not claim to know the circumstances of your relationship with the High Executioner, but Servath Reznik?s list is known and feared by all, even the visgoths, and you might be able to use that to your advantage.
May Menoth guide your hand and strengthen your heart. I remain, as always,

Your servant and Menoth?s,
Vice Scrutator Var Bodalin
First Visgoth of Imer
Prime Curate of the Scrutator Initiation

?Pah. Damnable fool can?t resist reminding me of his titles even as he claims to support my ascension. Still, he has been the most loyal of my supporters in the Synod aside from Severius himself?? The Vice Scrutator contemplated his options as the night wore on. As morning came, he reached a decision. Calling a servant to his tent, he said, ?Prepare my vestments for a full ceremony, and summon the Grand Exemplar after its completion.? The solemnity of Menoth?s worship should put the former Khadoran in the right mindset of loyalty and fervor for their discussion. As an afterthought, he added, ?And summon the High Exemplar for an audience on the march immediately after. We move when I am finished with the Grand Exemplar.?
The worship service did as Vindictus had expected, and when the Exemplar commander stepped into the Vice Scrutator?s tent his face was reverent and obedient, clear of any sign of doubt. ?I am sure you have guessed the reason for our return to Protectorate lands, Grand Exemplar.?
Mikael Kreoss nodded shortly. ?I have. We return so that you can be present for the Meeting of the Synod, and to reinforce our homeland from the growing Cryxian threat. Our outpost here in Leryn is untenable at best, and the number of incursions grows daily. We are losing soldiers faster than we could ever hope to recruit them, much less train them.?
Deciding upon one of several options he had developed, the Vice Scrutator agreed. ?Your loyalty to our men is your greatest asset, Mikael. Would that all of our commanders were as concerned for the state of their forces as you. You are right, of course; our position here is no different than Severius? was when Hierarch Voyle was struck down in Caspia. We must regroup and rebuild, and then under a strong, unified leadership we can resume the task of growing the faith.?
?You must know that reclaiming these lands will be doubly difficult should we relinquish them now. These hills are already soaked in Menite blood.?
?I know, Mikael. Their sacrifice will not be forgotten. When next we march north, it will be in a far more supportable position, and by the time we reclaim Leryn our enemies will have been defeated elsewhere. Menoth?s might will prevail.?

?Yes, your holiness. This is good to hear.?
Now that he was sure of Kreoss? devotion to Menoth, the interview began in earnest. ?Have you maintained contact with our forces at home, Mikael??
If the Grand Exemplar suspected his predicament, his face did not show it. ?I have received several reports from the Exemplar Order in Sul and Imer, and have sent reports to each. This you know. I have also received regular updates from the other orders, as is tradition.?
?And I would assume you received these ?regular updates? from the Temple as well? From Feora herself??
There was the faintest glimmer of recognition in Kreoss? eyes. Good, he knew the grounds he trod. ?Yes, your holiness. Her most recent report came to me yesterday. It was? troubling, to be honest.?
?Go on. Why was her message troubling to you??
?She asked the Order?s support in quelling any unrest that came as a result of the Meeting of the Synod. She seemed certain that the vote would be unpopular with many, and that her Flameguard would not suffice to maintain order among the citizenry.? A masterful answer, keeping to the truth while not revealing the full extent of Feora?s certain requests.
?Surely the Order would be able to support the Flameguard should it come to that.?
?To be sure. What concerns me is not our readiness or our devotion. The possibility of a divided Synod concerns me, especially if the Harbinger endorses another for the Hierarchy as she did with Severius, peace be upon him.? Again, a well-crafted response. Kreoss knew more than he was letting on, but the Scrutator had nothing more than suspicion to charge him with. In other circumstances that would be enough, but now more than ever Vindictus needed the Exemplars at his back.
?That is indeed troubling. But that is my concern, and the visgoths?. Your focus should be on preparing your men to maintain order. I feel that many of them will be too conditioned for battle to restrain themselves at home, and I urge you to see that discipline is maintained.? The test of loyalty was finished. Vindictus always had his doubts, but he was as sure as he could be that Kreoss had not yet committed to Feora?s side. Turning to more mundane matters, he asked, ?As we continue home, what threats should I be aware of? Are we ready to protect our forces if we are attacked on the road??
Kreoss? face shifted slightly as he recognized that he was back on safer ground. ?Obviously as we start out we face roving bands of Retribution scouts, and occasional Khadoran patrols. Our route takes us well beyond their known settlements and routes, but there are always outliers. In either case I expect small forces, mostly infantry with a few light warjacks or myrmidons. We are well prepared to meet those should they attack, but I do not think that they will.
?The border south of Merywyn concerns me somewhat, as we cross the no-man?s land between Khadoran, Iosan, and Cygnaran territories. We again will avoid the known outposts, but should we meet a new position it will most assuredly be fortified and have several heavy warjacks along with large numbers of infantry. I expect to have to fight at least one pitched battle in this area, and would not be surprised if we are faced with several in short succession. I have ordered my commanders to prepare for the latter case, and to move as quickly as possible through there.

[Spaero]

“Once we are through the border area I do not fear the Cygnaran military so much; their concerns are north, south, and west, not east. I do worry about the Skorne threat, and the Circle of Arbores. After we cross into Cygnaran territory I would like your permission to focus my Exemplars on threats to the east, leaving your men to defend our western flanks from any Cygnaran patrols we encounter. Is this acceptable to you, your holiness?”
Not catching any sign of subversive intent, the Vice Scrutator assented. “It sounds a fine plan. From there, of course, we make for Tower Judgment and thence to Imer.” His mind flashing for an instant, he added, “Perhaps it would be wise to send some of your forces to reinforce the garrison at Sul, just in case the Cygnaran military responds to our passing with an assault there. I would prefer that you attend them yourself, as Visgoth Rove will be in Imer for the calling of the Synod.”
Kreoss saw the intention of this order. Though he could not outright challenge the Vice Scrutator, he sought to gain himself some space for alternate plans: “I will of course consult with my commanders to see what they feel is needed at Sul. If I am needed I will attend, but I feel that the High Exemplar is more than capable of commanding that detachment if I am needed in Imer.” Vindictus recognized the hedge for what it was. It was common knowledge that Sarvan Gravus had been the other candidate for Grand Exemplar when Kreoss had ascended, and sending him to Sul would remove any temptation for Gravus to support one side or the other in opposition to Kreoss. Still, it was militarily sound and at least outwardly a loyal response, so again Vindictus was left without grounds for outward suspicion.
“An excellent suggestion. And should you be needed in Sul, High Exemplar Gravus would of course be the best commander for our return to Imer. It was good speaking with you again, Mikael. May Menoth guide your path on this march.” The audience was over, the Grand Exemplar dismissed.
Rising, Kreoss nodded and gestured reverently. “And may the Creator smile upon you, Vice Scrutator, both here and in Imer.” After the Exemplar commander left, Vindictus again contemplated his options. Gripping his Staff of Judgment he stepped from the tent and mounted his horse for the march home. Regardless of what Kreoss might think, the real battle would be fought once they reached Imer, and Vindictus intended to win that fight.

The Glimmerwood

That night, the Grand Exemplar could not sleep. Nor could he find rest the next night, or any of the following nights. Each night he rose, donned his armor, and walked the outskirts of the camp. Ostensibly he was checking guard patrols, and his reason for wakefulness was concern over the camp’s precarious location. The vice scrutator’s spies reported that to their master each morning. What truly troubled him, however, was the letter he carried tucked inside his breastplate, for only there was it truly secure from prying eyes.

To Mikael Kreoss, Grand Exemplar and Commander of the Armies of the Northern Crusade by the will of Menoth:

I write to you today with more than my standard report. I come with a plea, one which will trouble us both in the days to come. We have often talked of the scrutators’ leadership, especially the desires of the Synod to elect one of that caste to the Hierarchy. The passing of Hierarch Severius, all peace be upon him, presents us with a challenge and an opportunity to strengthen the Protectorate and advance the will of Menoth here on Caen. I trust you have no illusions about the present situation in the Synod. Vice Scrutator Vindictus will stand as a candidate for Hierarch, a position he has long coveted. I will also stand, for however much unrest this may cause, I fear what will happen to Menoth’s nation should Vindictus be given power.
I know the army returns to Imer by way of Tower Judgment, and I know you will ride with the Vice Scrutator. I do not ask you to take any action against him or his men. I have, however, been warned that Cygnaran and mercenary forces will attack the army as it rides south past Caspia and again at Fort Falk. I beseech you to keep your Exemplar forces to the east, away from these attacks, and allow the Vice Scrutator’s forces to repel them. If he challenges you, say that you fear raids by Skorne forces, or the druids of the Circle Orboros. His fears of Vinter Raelthorne will lead him to support you even at great expense. You may question this request, and with good reason. I assure you, it is for a legitimate purpose. I fear that my standing for Hierarch will cause great unrest here in Imer and in Sul, and I do not know if my Flameguard will be enough to maintain public order. Worse still, I anticipate that the faithful will see the Flameguard as somehow tainted by my command. Your Exemplars would be most welcome as a counter to the unrest and uncertainty which will surely come.
I have sent word to Visgoth Scarrel at Tower Judgment to be prepared for your arrival, and to have an escort for you and the Vice Scrutator so you might arrive in Imer before your full forces. I would ask the favor of an audience with you at your earliest convenience upon your arrival. May Menoth’s blessings always be upon you.

Your sister in service to Menoth,
Feora
Priestess and Protector of the Flame

[Spaero]

Feora maintained that her actions were not treason, and that standing for Hierarch would only advance His mission, but Kreoss feared that this was another manifestation of her naked personal ambition. She had suffered for this sin once before, at the battle of Caspia, but had seemingly repented and rededicated herself to the service of Menoth and the Protectorate. Her subsequent rise had come as a result of this new loyalty, but it seemed that years of unsupervised leadership had awoken the old delusions of grandeur in Feora’s mind. That none of the visgoths in Imer or Sul were able to stand against her and depended upon the Flameguard for security only worsened matters. As recently as a year ago he had heard rumors of her associating with the very Vinter Raelthorne she mentioned, a deposed Cygnaran king who had taken command of a Skorne army to regain power. By the time she had supposedly contacted him Raelthorne had reportedly been deposed again and was said to be heading a mercenary army, but his goals were unchanged and neither were his past associations with heathens and barbarians. That Vindictus himself had returned to Imer on a secret mission immediately after these rumors came to light lent them a level of credence that worried Kreoss. By siding with Feora, with whom else might he be associating himself?
Finally, ten days after his audience and two days since the last battle in the borderlands, he called together his seneschals after evening vespers. Sarvan Gravus, Pelon Sarmoth, Carvor Hazon, and Armides Marvant gathered in his tent, each wearing the robes of the Exemplar Order. He bound them by oaths as sacred as those spoken upon joining the Order to complete secrecy, and then he told them everything, about Feora’s standing for Hierarch, about the coming attacks, about being asked to let the Scrutator face them alone, and about his audience with Vindictus. Their faces betrayed no fear, but their hesitation spoke volumes of their doubts. Finally Gravus spoke: “Commander, you and I have fought together and bled together too often for me to count. You have always demonstrated your faith in Menoth and your loyalty to your men. So why have you thrown it all away now? Surely you can see how this will end.”
Before Kreoss could answer, Pelon Sarmoth jumped to his feet. “If Feora questions the scrutators’ loyalty to Menoth and the Protectorate, then I share those doubts, regardless of her past. The masked priests have grown too secure in their position, and fancy themselves the priest-kings of old when they are nothing more than vainglorious nobles!”
Kreoss gestured both of them to sit down. “Please, brothers, let us try not to wake the entire camp. Pelon, you have been my foremost seneschal, and your skill in battle is unquestioned. But you must learn to see the truth of things. Just because the scrutators do not lead from the front as we do does not mean they are not worthy of leadership. I share your doubts, but they remain only doubts in my mind, not certainties. Sarvan, I fear that I care too greatly for our men to see clearly in this matter. I see my actions as the only option to spare them from a great massacre, the only way to prevent an outright civil war between the Exemplar Order and the Flameguard.”
The other cavalry commander, Armides Marvant, responded hotly, “Have you forgotten the garrisons? Vindictus alone commands sixty-five thousand men at arms in this army, more than three times our Order. If only Sul stands with him we have no chance!”
Carvor Hazon, the Bastion seneschal, answered, “Sul will not be the only post to stand with Vindictus if it comes to war. Icthier will as well, and at least two of the Imer garrisons. But that must be weighed against the forces of the Flameguard, which can field almost one hundred thousand men. Tower Judgment has long been a friend to the martial orders, though their commander is a scrutator himself. That’s another fifty thousand. This will be a far more even fight than you contend, Armides. And let us not forget that the Exemplars and the Flameguard are the best-trained and -equipped forces in the Protectorate’s army. The garrisons are manned by conscripts and zealots, men untested in battle. We will stand against their charges without fear.” The man’s bulk matched his unshakable certainty, fitting for a commander of the most heavily armored troops in the Protectorate.
Gravus wheeled from his superior to the Bastion commander. “Are you actually contemplating this? Do you so easily abandon the clergy of Menoth’s holy church? This is blasphemy!” Flecks of spittle flew from his lips and his aged jowls quivered with barely contained rage.
A raised hand from Kreoss brought silence, if not peace. “Sarvan, we have had our differences, but never have I questioned your faith or devotion. I will not have you challenge my hand-picked commander in my presence again.” He glared at Gravus, face set like granite, until the High Exemplar bowed his head and assented. “Now let me be clear. If this council decides to support Feora, we will be challenging the infallibility of the scrutators. We will not challenge the authority of the Temple, or of the clergy, or of the Synod. We stand for Menoth and for His faithful. Now, brothers, do we back Feora in her gambit?”

[Spaero]

Marvant started: “I say no, and my Vengers with me.”
Sarmoth responded immediately: “The Knights and Errants of the Order will follow me in supporting the Protector. Surely her goals and ours are linked.”
Hazon echoed Sarmoth’s words: “I will lead the Bastions and Cinerators in support of the Priestess.”
Kreoss nodded gravely, concerned by the division even in his own council, and turned to his second-in-command. “Sarvan, what say you?” He knew what the answer would be, and feared having to cast the decisive vote to break a dangerous tie.
“You know our oath. I cannot spit on that for this madwoman’s grab for power.”
The Khadoran convert bent his head. “So it falls to me. Sarvan, Armides, I must follow my conscience and my duty. The Order marches for the Protector. Menoth help me.” The seneschals rose and left for their tents, their worries lost in the deep black night. Only Gravus remained behind, obviously waiting for the moment to break his enraged silence. Fine, let him speak his piece. “Sarvan, this dissension troubles me as greatly as Feora’s letter. What brought this on, brother?”
“You know damn well what brought this on. The day you were elevated to Grand Exemplar I swore before Menoth that I would die before I would let you destroy this order with your misguided conscience. The Order serves the clergy; this has been our oath since our founding, and you just threw that in the dirt.”
“You still resent that I was chosen over you. Have I not given you as much authority as any High Exemplar before us and more? Have I not called upon you to lead my van, charged you with the most critical missions, trusted you more than any blood brother? Why, Sarvan?”
“Because you have weakened the Order at every turn! Your sad devotion to your men has led you to cherish their safety over the will of Menoth, and the Exemplars have suffered for it!”
Kreoss sat back and sighed. “We are the stronger for it. Whoever does not care for each one of his men is not fit to lead a platoon, much less an army. I’m sorry it’s had to come to this, brother.” Standing, he spoke with steel in his voice. “Sarvan Gravus, by the power vested in me as Grand Exemplar of this Order, I relieve you of command as High Exemplar. You are returned to the rank of Senior Seneschal and returned to the cavalry you ascended from. With Menoth as my witness, so let it be done.”
The rage in Gravus’ face was gone, replaced with something more akin to dread and shock. “But… you cannot do this! I have served as High Exemplar since before you were a seneschal! How dare you!”
The answer came almost as a whisper. “I know you spoke with Vindictus after I left his tent that morning. I know he recruited you to spy on me, and I know you accepted his terms. I will have no traitors on my council. Go to your master, Gravus, and do not dare to speak of what you have heard here tonight. For if you do, then I shall know you have spit on your vows, and no man or god will restrain me.”
Gravus stood to leave, stopping at the door. “This isn’t over, Mikael. Vindictus will be Hierarch.”
Kreoss turned his steely eyes to his former compatriot. “For your sake, Sarvan, I pray that it is.”

[Spaero]

Corvis

Nicia had taken her fifty Daughters west toward Fort Falk five days ago. The Umber Guard’s Daughters of the Flame had made good time to their destination, moving swiftly and travelling light. Thyra’s force had arrived on the bluff overlooking Corvis from across the Black River the previous evening, and she had spent the next eight hours readying a battle plan. Stepping back into the camp, she spoke softly but with determination. “Daughters, assemble.
“The column is one day’s march away. Close enough for it to be believable that they executed this attack, far enough that the Corvis guards will have time to mount a counterstrike. That means we have to strike now. The walls and gates are out of the question; without Saxon Orrik or a native giving us cover or a distraction we’d never get in that way. That leaves the sewers. There are three grates that are out of sight of the watch towers, and the guard patrols leave over an hour at a time where they’re unguarded. We enter the city through the sewers in three groups and regroup in the stables of the Church of Morrow. From there we ransack that monument to the heathen god, leave evidence that it was the doing of Menites, and make our escape. Questions?”
One of the more experienced scouts raised her hand. “The sewers have heavy iron grates over them. With a saw or a file we could be through, but not in time to make the attack.”
Thyra reached into her pack and pulled out three heavy ceramic flasks. “These contain the refined Menoth’s Fury our mechaniks use to fuel the Castigators. Break the flask on the grate and stand back; the bars will melt down and once the flames die out you should have room to get through.”
A second hand. “Orders if we’re spotted by the guard or civilians?”
“Kill the guards, but try not to draw attention until we’re at the church. Today’s Founding Day in Corvis, so most people should be elsewhere until midday – I think the Exemplars were counting on that when they planned this route – but if you’re spotted try to lose them. Don’t worry about someone raising the alarm, but be sure you have a way out. And if you’re captured… May Menoth guide you safely to Urcaen.” No further questions were asked, so with a quick prayer the company split into platoons and made its way across the river.
Once across Thyra waited cautiously until she saw a guard patrol pass along the wall and away from their targets, then signaled for the Daughters to advance. Reaching the wall, she drew the flask from her belt pouch and smashed it on the grate, drawing back from the blindingly bright flames that flared up. After a minute the grate began to glow and sag, and within five minutes there was only a smoking puddle of slag on the ground outside the pipe. Seeing that both of the other teams had burned through, she gave one last signal and headed into the conduit. Thankfully the last few weeks had been dry ones, and there remained only a few inches of liquid – she hesitated to give it the title “water” – to slosh around their boots. Thyra told one of the Daughters accompanying her to keep a pace count so they would know when to turn off, but soon realized this was unnecessary; the gutters in the streets above emptied into the sewer at regular intervals, so counting the lights as they passed under them was just as easy. Two hundred drains into the city, the platoon turned left, then right again soon after, until finally they reached their destination. Thyra, ever the leader from the front, slowly climbed the ladder and lifted the manhole cover an inch to listen. Not hearing anything but the rustling and whinnies of horses in the stable, she lifted the lid an inch more to peer out. “All clear,” she whispered, then pushed the cover aside completely. Climbing out of the hole she drew her twin swords and stood guard while the remaining sixteen women followed.
Waiting for the other two platoons to rendezvous, she took the moment to count the number of horses left in the stables. Fifteen, enough for a diversionary group to make their way out of the city, but not enough to carry the entire force to safety. Still, it was better than nothing. She could hear the sounds of revelry far in the distance, but the celebration had not turned to the church yet. They had timed their attack well. After an unending span of a few minutes the next platoon crept into the stables, and soon after the third emerged from the same manhole.
All present and accounted for, the women swept from the stables into the church with a fury born of years of frustration and grief. The few acolytes left to prepare the church for the celebration were cut down without mercy, their screams of anguish never escaping the stone walls. Wall hangings were torn down and shredded, pews overturned and smashed; heavy candlesticks were thrown through the ancient stained glass rose window; the alabaster statue of Morrow in the entrance was pulled off its base and shattered on the floor of the nave. Finally, when the desecration was complete, Thyra sheathed her twin swords Grief and Lament and ordered the Daughters to begin their escape. One platoon ran to the stables, saddled their stolen horses, and raced off toward the main city gates. A handful of the women grabbed flasks of Menoth’s Fury and began to set the church ablaze while another team climbed the spiral staircase to the bell tower and began tolling the alarm. Satisfied that chaos had been unleashed, the warcaster ordered the remaining Daughters back into the sewers to make their escape. After the last of her warriors had disappeared into the earth, she stepped back and took in the destruction they had wrought in just a few minutes’ time. Billows of acrid black smoke poured out of the shattered windows, and hundreds of Cygnaran guards and civilians were shocked from their revelries to see their beloved church desecrated so completely. The lone sign of who had perpetrated this crime was a single menofix placed upon the plinth where once the statue of Morrow had stood. Finally, Thyra dropped into the hole and pulled the manhole cover back into place.
Ninety minutes later she stood back in the makeshift camp with her band of fighters. Two of the riders had been shot by the city guard’s crossbowmen, but the rest had escaped capture and left a clear trail to the main army before making their way stealthily back to the meeting point. “Menoth guide their souls to His city in Urcaen,” the commander intoned solemnly. “Now, we must make our way back to Fort Falk to support Nicia’s detachment. Pack up anything that’s still out and be ready to march.” Tired and drained as they were, the Daughters jumped to the task like the disciplined fighting force they were. Each had lost husbands and sons fighting the enemies of Menoth, and two of their own being called to His side, though painful, was not going to slow them down. By midday there was no sign the Daughters of the Flame had ever been in Corvis.

[Spaero]

Headquarters of the Northern Crusade, South of Corvis

“How could you have erred so greatly, Kreoss? You said the Cygnarans would be preoccupied elsewhere! You said their celebrations would give us the time we needed to pass Corvis safely! Instead the city is armed for war and two thousand guardsmen marched against us!” Vindictus has in a rage such as he had never permitted himself while Severius still ruled. “And to make matters worse, your Exemplars stood off to the east and claimed to be guarding against Skorne incursions! You may count yourself blessed that Gravus and his Vengers were able to protect our Vessels of Judgment. If those holy relics had been captured or destroyed by those Morrowan infidels, have no doubt that it is you who would have to answer for their sins.”
Kreoss kept silent, head bowed respectfully, waiting for the Vice Scrutator to finish his tirade. “Your holiness, my scouts at Ternon Crag reported large movements of Skorne fighters across Comb’s Beacon River and through the Widower’s Wood. We had every indication of being caught in the path of a raid on Corvis and could ill afford to deploy our forces differently. I thank Menoth that Sarvan Gravus was able to intercept the bulk of the Earl’s forces.” Gravus’ removal as High Exemplar had not been made public, even to Vindictus, and for this reason the scrutator thought his agent provocateur to still be in position to strike when called upon. He had voiced no suspicions as to why the Vengers had deployed so far from the bulk of the Exemplar force, instead waxing grateful that they had been in place.
“Thank Menoth indeed! You will deploy your forces more evenly as we pass Fort Falk, Grand Exemplar, or we will have our next discussion under far less equal circumstances. You are dismissed.” Kreoss bowed and silently left the tent, trying to put together a plan that served both the Vice Scrutator’s needs and the Protector of the Flame’s without getting thousands of Exemplars killed.

Fort Falk

Nicia readied her sword cannon for another shot. The last two weeks had been spent in careful preparation for this moment, each day, each hour requiring the orchestration of dozens of actors. Her contingent of fifty Daughters of the Flame had taken disguises and infiltrated the fort by passing as members of its civilian staff, blending into the masses that entered and exited every day. Some had come in and actually worked as laborers, establishing a cover, while others simply disappeared into the labyrinth of the base. The infiltration alone had taken four days, a few women at a time.
Then the assassinations began. One lieutenant was found in the back room of a bar, his own knife through his heart and his pants around his ankles. Another was apparently shot in a duel, despite the best efforts of the commanders to eradicate the practice. A civilian overseer fell four stories from a scaffold; a general’s son was found in a back alley with a garrote around this throat; a captain was found hanging in his own room in the barracks, an apparent suicide. The level of fear and paranoia within the officer corps at the post had risen swiftly until they started blaming each other for the deaths, aided by a few choice pieces of evidence: Protectorate coinage found in an unfortunate sergeant’s purse, Menite holy scrolls in a captain’s knapsack, conspiratorial letters written in Sulese to a Caspian officer with a reputation for secrecy. Finally the commandant ordered a full investigation, and within two days three men, a colonel and two lieutenants, were accused of being Protectorate saboteurs, scouts of the army last seen passing Corvis. Their courts-martial had been short and public, their sentences predetermined — death by hanging. Nicia crouched at the edge of a rooftop overlooking the main parade grounds where the executions were to be carried out, waiting for the right moment. Most of the Daughters had left the fort the same day their part of the plan was carried out, but nine women were scattered around the courtyard, similarly hidden on rooftops and in upper windows. Each had demonstrated skill with firearms, and each had been given a target.
“The court-martial of this garrison, by the authority granted it by His Majesty King Leto Raelthorne, has found each of you guilty of the crimes of high treason and espionage against the military forces of Cygnar. You are hereby stripped of your ranks and sentenced to be hung by the neck until dead. Do you have any final words?” Ignoring the executioner, Nicia scanned the gallery until she found her target: The commandant of the Fort, General Keilon Ebonhart IV, a duke in Leto’s court and commander of the twenty-nine thousand men in the garrison. She checked the wind – light, but steady – and laid her sights across the man’s chest. It was a long shot for her sword cannon, but she had practiced longer shots, and a second set of sights was covering her target should she miss.
She started to slow her breathing and heart rate, settling into a calm and steady rhythm until the time came. The first toll of the bell bonged off to her left, and her finger moved to the trigger as the executioner’s hand grasped the gallows’ lever. A second loud bong, and she took a breath, let half out, and held what was left as her finger slowly tightened on the trigger. The executioner yanked his lever as the third toll sounded across the plaza, and she felt the trigger snap back as the gun fired, ten cracks ringing out as one. The crowd sat for a moment, not understanding what had happened. Finally the realization that five officers in the gallery had been shot broke across the assembled soldiers, and chaos erupted. Shouted orders went ignored as each man rushed to some vastly important task: Trying to save the commandant’s life, sealing off the parade grounds, clearing the gallery, preparing to fend off a full assault, and finding where the shots had come from. The last was the smartest choice, but futile all the same, as Nicia and her nine Daughters had been moving before the fourth toll of the bell. By the time the first Cygnaran soldier rushed onto the rooftop where she had been, she and her assassins were scrambling down a ladder propped against the outside wall of the fort, two guards lying slain in their watch tower. The bait had been set, and there was no way this particular fish was not going to bite.