Chapter Ashborn 382: Raoul

“Come on, lad,” Cirayus said, shaking his head at Vir’s dour expression. “Act like that, and your troops will fear the end of the realms has come. Look alive!”

“Alive?” Vir asked, standing from his cross-legged meditation position in Janak’s lab. “You mean, like this?”

Balancer of Scales activated, and channeling every lesson he’d learned over the past days, Vir focused the Ultimate art on Cirayus, and Cirayus alone.

The giant’s knees buckled, almost touching the pristine white floor before he activated his own art, neutralizing the power.

But Vir wasn’t done. Prana Current surged, and the art’s force redoubled. Perhaps it was cheating—some would rightly call it that—but to Vir, it hardly mattered. Even with his recent gains, he couldn’t hope to match Cirayus’ mastery over the art, whether in force or flexibility. He could, however, amplify the ability’s severalfold.

Cirayus, who had just started to rise, fell heavily, and this time, his knees did hit the ground.

“Astonishing,” he said, compensating for the added weight. “You learned all of this from Narak?”

Nodding, Vir canceled the ability. “Even with Current, it’s not as powerful as yours, though.”

“Lad… It’s easily as strong as a Bairan with a century under their belt,” Cirayus said, shaking his head. “Your standards aren’t simply high, they’re impossible. Your progress is nothing short of miraculous.”

“It seems impossible is what I will need, should I wish to win this war,” Vir muttered as they stepped through the Gate to Vir’s Nexus, where a dozen gates sat in a perfect ring, each leading to distant locations. Behind it was another, larger ring with even more gates.

Vir looked at the rows of orderly tents in the distance and sighed. “Why can’t my army be more… normal?”

“What? Not enjoying being worshiped?” Cirayus asked with a grin.

“I’ve done nothing to earn that sort of devotion from them. I hardly even know them.”

“You have, lad. Or rather, your prior incarnations have. For the Garga Lavani, your mere existence is enough.”

“It’s all so wrong. I hate being treated like some deity.”

“Good. It should feel uncomfortable. Do not become used to it, lest it warp you into a person you no longer recognize.”

Vir had to agree. Even scarier than the Lavani’s behavior was the idea of him ever treating it as normal.

“Just wish I could hole up and avoid them. Seems to work just fine for Maiya…”

“Maiya is the leader of a human blood cult that worships a Prana Swarm. The Garga Lavani are demons who worship you. You must grace them with your presence, lest they start to worry about your safety.”

“I know,” Vir grumbled as he went through the endless list of tasks that awaited him. “I might not like it, but I’ll carry out my duties. Just can’t understand for the life of me how people actively seek power. Don’t they know how much work it is?”

Cirayus barked a laugh. “And that, lad, is why you will make a fine king.”

“How’s that make any sense?” Vir asked with a frown.

“Because those who are intoxicated by power fall prey to its corrosive nature. It changes them, tainting them like the Ash itself.”

“That… explains quite a bit, actually,” Vir said, thinking of Mina Hiranya, of her father Rayid, of Kin’jal, and the Chitran. All of whom seemed like slaves to the quest for power.

Vir imagined himself conquering the other clans, paying no heed to the mountain of corpses he left along the way. It felt alien and foreign, but once he obtained all the Ultimate tattoos and unified demonkind? What then? What if eradicating an entire clan was as simple as giving a single order?

Vir shuddered at the thought. “How do I ensure I never end up that way?” he asked.

“Abhor power,” Cirayus replied. “That feeling you have about being worshiped? Guard it closely. Treat power like the evil it is, and never allow your ego to pollute your thoughts.”

Vir chuckled. “Don’t think I’ll have much trouble with that.” Growing up as a prana scorned, Vir never had the luxury of an ego.

“You say that now, lad, but with thousands worshiping you as a god each and every day, you’d be surprised at how quickly it can affect you. ‘Tis an insidious thing, that.”

“Well, I hope you and everyone else will stop me, should that ever happen,” Vir said.

“Oh, believe me, we will,” Cirayus replied with a grin. “You’ve built a solid team. Gems, the lot of them. So long as your ears hear our words, you will never have to worry about falling off the path.”

“Then I’ll be relying on you,” Vir said, looking up at the giant. “I give you permission to beat some sense into me, should I ever lose my way.”

“It would be my pleasure, lad. Still owe you from the tournament, after all.”

Vir averted his eyes. “I’m sorry about that,” he said. “How goes the—”

Cirayus’ thunderous laughter cut him off. It was followed by a slap on the back that might have broken the bones of any normal demon.

“I would not have traded that fight for the world, lad! I shall cherish that memory for centuries. The history books will write of that day, and what a glorious day it was! Fret not, I’ve my finest smith reforging the blade. Shouldn’t be long, now. Rather than worry about me, I suggest you prepare for your meeting.”

“Right,” Vir said, deflating. “The meeting…”

He’d stalled interacting with the Garga Lavani as much as possible, and until now, he’d had the perfect excuse—his duties required him to be deeper in the Ash, and as frail as they were, the Garga Lavani could not venture there.

Now, they’d moved in, and so Vir was forced to confront them.

The ordinary members weren’t too bad. They mostly tended to prostrate when he passed, requiring him to say nothing. The occasional nod or wave would send them reeling. Easy to please, at the very least.

He wished he could say the same for their leader, though. Raoul was… Well, Vir didn’t quite know what to make of the gray demon, other than he was crafty. Far craftier than most demons Vir had met.

As for what his agenda was, or if he even had one? Vir didn’t have the slightest clue.

Which was why he’d finally agreed to the meeting Raoul had been attempting to arrange for weeks.

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“Would you like me to accompany you?” Cirayus asked, but Vir shook his head. “I don’t want Raoul seeing me as a weakling that depends on your strength. I’ll give you the details when I’m done.”

“A wise plan,” Cirayus said. “All demons appreciate a confident leader, but I sense Raoul has even higher expectations than most. Before you go, however, there is something you should know.”

Vir raised an eyebrow. “Which would be?”

“This is all hearsay, mind you,” Cirayus said, glancing around. “There is a chance—a small chance—the Garga Lavani possess the lost Gargan Ultimate Art.”

Vir’s eyes widened. “You’re serious…”

“Just a possibility, mind you. You should inquire about it. If you can find the original, I would strongly suggest using that instead of whatever version Saunak has stored in his archives. Even if he hasn’t experimented on the tattoo—unlikely—there could very well be errors in transcription. Errors that might ruin the tattoo, or worse…”

“Noted,” Vir said. “I’ll ask him.”

“Very well,” Cirayus said, nodding. “I shall be in the field training the troops, should you need me.”

Cirayus headed off to the training field while Vir turned towards the Garga Lavani’s tents. For whatever reason, they insisted on remaining separate from the rest of the troops, even if that meant setting camp outside the protection of the garrison’s walls.

Though it was, Vir supposed, more of a fort now, and well on its way to become a fortress. With practically all of their Warriors conducting routine patrols, the forest surrounding the base’s clearing was all but devoid of Ash Beasts, and Vir felt it was no more dangerous than the Godshollow at this point.

The last major horde had been a month ago, and even that had been intercepted and dismantled well before the beasts made it to the clearing.

Someone must have caught sight of him, because by the time Vir made it to the camp, half the Garga Lavani were out of their tents, prostrating and ogling.

Having dealt with this several times already, Vir simply maintained a neutral expression and walked past, politely acknowledging those who mustered the courage to make eye contact.

Raoul’s tent was not difficult to find. Easily quadruple the size of the others, and situated in the very center of the Lavani encampment, its fabric was not only superior, but it was colored white, while the others were pitch black.

In the colors of the Akh Nara, Vir supposed.

Arriving at his destination, he found Raoul already outside, bowing deeply. “My Akh Nara, I welcome you to my humble abode.”

Vir resisted the urge to comment that humble abodes seemed to have turned into luxurious pavilions of late.

“The pleasure is mine,” Vir said, allowing himself to be ushered inside. There, he found opulence in every shape and form, from silken rugs to a heavy carved wood desk, upholstered chairs, and gold-plated mugs. Even the air was scented with some sort of lavender perfume.

Vir couldn’t even guess where Raoul had obtained the overflowing cornucopia of fruits that sat spilled off of his table. Vir’s troops dined well, but such extravagance was certainly not on the menu.

It was as if Vir had stepped through a Gate into one of the royal castles of the Human Realm, and it reminded him of King Rayid’s castle in Daha, and not in a good way.

While only boorish on its own, when considering the abject poverty and malnutrition of his Garga Lavani, Vir couldn’t help but be off put by it all.

“Is something the matter, Akh Nara?” Raoul asked.

“Oh, nothing. I just feel that those with power ought to live responsibly, in line with their people's wealth,” Vir said. While he wasn’t here to pick a fight, there was only so far he would bend.

“Of course,” Raoul said with a knowing nod. “I completely agree. The civilization you will craft will be unparalleled in the realm. The greatest demonkind has ever seen. This is but a pale imitation of the gold that will one day line your halls.”

Vir let out a breath. It seemed the demon had completely missed his point, and to Vir’s chagrin, he had already uncorked and poured a bottle of wine into two glasses before he could stop him.

“To your ascendance, my lord,” he said, raising a toast. “May the Chitran quake in their boots.”

Despite his reluctance, Vir raised his glass as well, but had a somewhat different message to convey.

“To the successful liberation of the oppressed. May we ease their suffering.”

Raoul’s eyes went wide. “The Akh Nara’s heart bleeds for his people! We do not deserve such a just ruler. Oh Janak! Oh Adinat! May you watch over our dear savior!”

Deciding that anything Vir said would likely be horribly offensive, he shoved the wine glass into his mouth and took a sip instead.

The liquid was delicious. Perhaps among the best he’d ever had. Which made the act of consuming it all the more bitter.

“I am pleased it is to your liking. ‘Tis an Aindri vintage, aged forty years. Only ten such bottles exist in the world.”

Vir stared at the liquid like it was poison, and he suddenly felt sick. He thought it was ordinary wine. What right did either of them have to celebrate at this juncture?

“What is it you wish to discuss?” Vir asked. If he couldn’t re-cork the bottle, he could at least bury his guilt by talking business.

“The Lavani have decided to support you in your quest to overthrow the Chitran enemy,” Raoul said, spreading his arms in a gesture of magnanimity.

“Odd,” Vir replied, raising an eyebrow. “Because I thought they already had…”n/o/vel/b//in dot c//om

“Of course, course,” Raoul said, rubbing his hands. “I merely felt it appropriate for you to know. The Lavani have never been welcomed anywhere. At long last, it is good to finally be where we belong. I’m afraid the Chitran have not been kind to us over the years, hunting us down like bandies…”

“I am sorry for that,” Vir said, lowering his eyes to the table. “Soon. Their time will come. I promise this.”

“The Akh Nara does not need to justify himself!” Raoul exclaimed with wide eyes. “Your words are law! Nothing will stop us!”

I sure wish I shared your optimism, Vir thought.

“And yet, you will need skilled tacticians, yes? The Ravager is an invaluable asset, to be sure, yet his duties keep him occupied. Why not leave the battlefield planning to me, hmm? No reason for the Akh Nara himself to worry over these mundane tasks.”

“While I don’t mind you sitting in on our sessions, I’m afraid I must be involved in these matters,” Vir replied as diplomatically as he could. While eagerness was a quality Vir admired in his forces, it could be taken too far.

“Of course! I would never suggest otherwise, my Akh Nara. Just know that I have significant experience in these areas. It would be folly not to allow me to ease some of your immeasurable burden. Consider me an extension of your will. I shall be your eyes and ears. Your arms and legs.”

Vir shuffled under Raoul’s hungry gaze. There was a fire burning in those eyes, speaking to a feral thirst… But for what? To be helpful to Vir?

No. There was something more driving than ambition.

Vir could either let it slide or call Raoul out. In the past, he might’ve let it go, but now? He owed it to every demon under his command to get to the bottom of this. As uncomfortable as it may be.

“What is it you’re after?” he asked, staring into the demon’s eyes. “What do you truly want?”

Raoul’s expression twisted into one of confusion, and he cocked his head. “Whatever do you mean, Akh Nara? I merely wish to serve.”

“In that case, tell me where I can find Aspect of the Demon God,” Vir said, cutting to the chase.

Raoul’s expression fell. “My Akh Nara, if I had it, it would be yours. This, I swear to you. Alas, the art is deep within Chitran lands. Locked away in a place of utmost security.”

“But you do know where it is,” Vir said, eyes narrowing. “How deep are we talking?”

“Samar Patag. What better way to hide our deepest secrets than right under the nose of our enemy?”

“And the Chits aren’t aware? You’re sure…”

“I swear it upon my name,” Raoul replied.

It was a dangerous plan… But given the mayhem of the time, perhaps the best option they had.

“So, ousting the Chits will not only free the Garga, but yield my clan’s Ultimate art as well,” Vir said, letting out a sigh of relief. Even if it took some doing, the knowledge that the tattoo was safe relieved him of a heavy burden.

“Tell me, Raoul,” Vir said, the seeds of an idea sprouting in his head. If Raoul didn’t have secrets to share, maybe he could impress Vir with his tactical mind instead. “You say you wish to assume command of our troops. How would you go about attacking the Chitran?”

“An excellent question, my Akh Nara,” Raoul said, sitting back in his chair. He stroked his chin as he gazed off into the distance, deep in thought.

Well, at least he’s giving it some consideration, Vir thought. He’d half-expected the demon to fire back with some nonsensical idea.

“I would train our warriors to their utmost capacity in the Ash. I would send them deeper until they can fight the most terrifying beasts of Mahādi itself.”

“A little ambitious,” Vir replied. “Not even I can fight those things. Go on.”

“Your modesty knows no bounds, my Akh Nara. Suffice it to say that our fighting force would be the strongest in all the realms.”

“And?” Vir asked, ignoring the empty platitude. “What then?”

“I would train half the army in the art of subterfuge. I would send my agents to infiltrate Samar Patag, gather intelligence, and weaken their defenses from within. I would be like the rot that softens the greatest tree.”

Vir raised an eyebrow. Raoul’s plan was actually quite sound. He’d been considering something quite similar. “Continue.”

“With our warriors as the spark, I would strike from the shadows, culling Chitran soldiers one after another. I would sew chaos and panic in their streets until paranoia drives them mad. And then, the civil war would begin.”

“You would have the Garga rise up on their own? From within the walls?” Vir asked.

“Absolutely. By then, most of our forces would have infiltrated the city. Against such a foe, Samar Patag’s defenses would be meaningless. Chitran’s armies would be useless. And most important of all, their Bloodline Arts nullified.”

“How so?” Vir asked.

“The Chitran require an open battlefield to manifest their strongest arts. In the midst of chaos in the streets, they must carefully select whom to augment and whom to weaken. Only the strongest among them boast that degree of control.”

“I see,” Vir said. While Cirayus had informed him of this potential weakness, Vir hadn’t thought to exploit it in such a way. “And how many casualties do you think your plan would cause?”

“Irrelevant,” Raoul fired back, a vicious grin forming on his face. “For, my dear Akh Nara, what is a few thousand lives next to the ascendance of a god?”