The Forsaken Hero-Chapter 889: War Council

Aerion was waiting for us alongside R’lissea, sitting across from Commander Whitemarsh and an accompaniment of officers I didn’t recognize. I slowed as I entered the room, and all eyes gathered on me. I swallowed hard, my heart pounding. My eyes darted from R’lissea to Aerion, then back again. R’lissea noticed my twitching tail and gave me a small, reassuring smile, patting the seat next to hers.

I smoothed my dress under me as I sat, settling down with my legs crossed and hands clasped in my lap, not quite meeting anyone’s gaze.

"Thank you, Oracle," Aerion said in a firm, professional voice devoid of his usual warmth or confident lilt. "The Life Hero insisted we wait before proceeding further."

"What are they doing here?" I whispered to R’lissea.

Commander Whitemarsh coughed. "Perhaps I’m better suited to answering that question, Oracle. It is the opinion of the Last Light Company and my officers in Sangra that a blow can be struck against the Risen horde. Sander’s Port, a city on the northern fringe of Ornth, provides a suitable target."

"But why now? Isn’t moving out dangerous? It leaves Sangra vulnerable," I said.

R’lissea nodded. "True, but Korra and Gayron scouted the Risen and discovered they sacrificed most of their bodies in that last attack. It will take a long time for Connor to reposition troops from deeper in his territory."

"And the shard in the city?"

"Gayron said he could destroy it if he got close to it. He and Korra would just need a chance to break through."

"A chance we are willing to provide," Commander Whitemarsh said, reasserting himself over the conversation. "I’ve convinced Lady Whitemarsh to issue another call to arms to a number of Garrisons. They’ll be able to march within the week, bolstering the force already there and marching into Ornth."

"Who are you sending to command it? I believe you have a banquet to attend," Aerion said suddenly.

The Commander’s face twitched. "I...wasn’t aware you knew of that."

"Wait, you’re not going?" R’lissea asked.

"I’m afraid not, hero. My duties as a noble of House Whitemarsh come before my appointment as commander of the Garrisons. There are certain formalities and traditions that must be observed."

"A pity," Aerion murmured, leaning back as he sipped his tea. There was a glint in his eye that didn’t match the casual nature of his words. "You’re the only experienced officer left in Duskwood right now, aren’t you? The rest of your officers are spread throughout the kingdom or already deployed in Sangra."

The commander gave him a long, stuffy look. "I’m already aware our forces are spread thin. What are you playing at, Sunsinger?"

"Forgetting a formal title? So much for your respect of tradition," Aerion said with a vicious grin.

Commander Whitemarsh’s eyes narrowed, and he looked out of the corner of his eye at the officers behind him. His jaw clenched when he found them staring, and he held his tongue.

"I’ll do it," Aerion said, rubbing his chin.

That caused the commander to turn, eyes widening again. "You?"

He shrugged. "Sure, why not? I’ve more combat experience and strength than anyone, and I’ve been itching for a chance to fight these Risen bastards myself. I got left behind on the last mission."

"This isn’t a game, Lord Sunsinger. The offensive will take weeks, perhaps two or three months. And more importantly, you’re not even commissioned nor assigned to a garrison. I can’t allow a civilian, even if it’s you, to take charge of our forces. It’s unthinkable."

"Then think on it. We’ve fought too many battles together for you to doubt me. You know better than anyone how much I care for defending this land," Aerion shot back.

"Yes, but aren’t you supposed to attend that banquet too? How could you abandon your duties here like that?"

"I take my duties seriously, but I also understand the importance of prioritizing. My duties to my house are lower than the duties I owe to our kingdom and people. No individual, no house, is above that. Our survival always comes first, no matter what or who, has to be sacrifice to get there."

Aerion’s words lingered in the air, a heavy weight draped around the room. The elvish officers shifted uneasily, eyes darting around, while Commander Whitemarsh returned his gaze with a steely look of his own.

"You understand the burden this leadership will place upon you? The expectation, attention, and responsibility?" the commander asked softly.

"I’ve borne those and more for a hundred years already," Aerion said.

"Sir, forgive my impudence, but you’re not truly planning on appointing him as the Garrison Commander, are you?" one of his officers asked. He was a tall, broad-shouldered elf of some four hundred years with a soul in the upper reaches of sixth-level. He stared incredulously at Commander Whitemarsh.

"Captain, you served with Lord Sunsinger. Is the thought of fighting beside him again truly intolerable?"

The captain shook his head. "No, it’s just...well, appointing a civilian commander is unprecedented. What will the soldiers think? Will your officers in Sangra accept his orders?"

Commander Whitemarsh looked at Aerion. "Lord Sunsinger?"

Aerion shrugged. "Of course they will. Soldiers, unlike the cowards of this kingdom, respect strength in confidence. Humility aside, I have more than enough of both."

"I suppose that’s true," the commander muttered. Then, turning to his soldiers, asked, "Any other complaints?"

They shook their heads, though all looked troubled.

"Good. Then I shall see to it that the order is given, recorded, and implemented. You will serve as acting commander of the Joint-Garrison task force assigned to penetrating Risen lines, securing the shard of Sander’s Port, and defending it. At the same time, that apostle demonkin destroys it."

"It shall be done," Aerion said.

They exchanged a nod, much to the dismay of the officers. I grasped R’lissea’s sleeve, tugging it lightly. She leaned over, her ear at my lips.

"Why did they need me?" I whispered.

She smiled wryly. "Your demons, of course. Even at full strength, the elves won’t have the confidence to breach the Black Mist without your support."

Commander Whitemarsh cleared his throat with an awkward cough. "I’m afraid the hero is right. I’ve come here not just to discuss the matter and state of the war with the Life Hero, but to again beg for your help. It galls me to rely on an outsider like you for aid, but we have no other choice."

"My demons can resist the mist, but I don’t see how they could be of use to you," I admitted.

Elise cringed, ears reddening. "Oh, well, um...Sorry, I meant to tell you before, but I never had the chance. The spell I developed, called Life’s Grace, isn’t like Dispel Magic. It creates a sort of bubble that repels the Black Mist. It’s super strong and has good range, but it takes a sixth-level mage to cast."

"I don’t imagine you have many of those," I said, glancing at Lord Whitemarsh.

The elf winced, avoiding my gaze, confirming my thoughts.

"You need my demons to cast it?" I asked.

R’lissea nodded. "Yeah, if you wouldn’t mind sending them. I know you have plenty of sixth-level evolved demons who could learn it in a few minutes. Even if you only sent a few dozen and they didn’t do any actual fighting, they would mean everything in the war."

"Fyren?" I asked, looking up at the demon standing behind me.

He had his arms crossed, a contemplative look on his face. "That might not be a bad idea, though I would prefer splitting the workload with the Last Light Company. Incinderus tells me they’ve been working rather seamlessly together, and this is a good chance to practice cooperation among the elites of the Devoted and Company."

I nodded slowly, chewing on my inner lip. "I don’t mind that idea, but would you please check with Bethiv first? If he’s okay sending his men into Ornth, then I am too."

"Certainly. Incinderus placed an infernal escort with him at all times, to oversee his safety as well as for times like this," Fyren said. "And yes, he’s already agreed."

"Already?" Commander Whitemarsh’s eyebrows rose.

Fyren looked down his nose at him. "Do you think effective communication requires these pretentious meetings and councils? Demons would have long since failed in their ambitions of conquering worlds if they were forced to partake in the crude inefficiencies of mortality."

"Fyren..." I said, looking at him pleadingly.

He sighed, running a hand through his hair, but otherwise remained silent. 𝒇𝙧𝙚𝓮𝔀𝓮𝒃𝙣𝓸𝒗𝒆𝒍.𝙘𝒐𝒎

"Are you going, too?" I asked, turning my attention to R’lissea.

She shook her head. "There’s not much more for me to do there. I’d rather remain here and help Selena."

"Lady Sunsinger? Is there something our most powerful mage can’t handle alone?" Commander Whitemarsh asked.

Elise returned his gaze unwaveringly. "It’s not my place to say."

He smiled. "Can’t blame an elf for trying."

She snorted. "Perhaps, but keep the politics to Elise. I want nothing to do with it, so leave me out of them," R’lissea muttered. "And Xiviyah, too. We’re going to be too busy the next few weeks to play your games."