Devourer

Chapter 232: Wither on the Vine

Ordias stood calmly at the edge of the wall as he watched the battle rage below. The Elves have finally decided to mount an actual assault on a major fortress. It is going poorly of course, his Blood Knights were more than a match for Elves alone but throw in the additonal forces offered by the Empire? This battle was childs play.

“Grand General” a gruff voice said, and Ordias glanced down at the Dwarven Ranger Lubin Oakenspine.

Ordias once again gave thanks to the Empire for offering him exactly what he needed. He didn’t need anymore run-off-the-mill frontline soldiers. So the Empress gave him specialists, Dwarven Rangers, Ex Adventurer Living Armour Cavalry, and Knight Enchanters. He was also given an entire Battalion of Magus Rifle Sharpshooters.

The Magus Rifle was born from a singular philosophy: to take the versatility of a mage’s staff and strip it down to a single, perfected function. It was not a tool of broad magical utility nor a conduit for elemental whims or arcane experimentation. This weapon was crafted with purpose, a staff refined into a precision instrument of destruction. The light yet durable mithril barrel was etched with runes of focus and stability, each line meticulously inscribed to optimise ether flow. The enchanted heartwood stock, smooth and warm, anchored the magic like the roots of an ancient tree, channelling it without waste or deviation. At its core, the Focii Crystal acted as both heart and trigger, harnessing ambient ether and releasing it in a singular, devastating beam. No fireballs, no barriers, no illusions, just one spell, honed to perfection: a lance of pure arcane energy that could cross battlefields in a blink and punch through the strongest magical defences. In a world where mages prized adaptability, the Magus Rifle embodied a radical idea: mastery of one thing, done flawlessly.

Ordias caught sight of one of the Sharpshooters take the head off an Elven Warrior, a few centuries of life experience, gone just like that.

“The wall is holding, and we do not expect any issues. Will we be counter-attacking?” Lubin asked.

Lubin was an old man in a profession where most die young. He rarely took to battle anymore instead he was a leader and a tactician. He used his many years of experience to direct his juniors' far more able bodies.

“Yes, we will be. I have been waiting for an excuse, and the Elves just handed me one on a silver plate. If they want war, they will have it.” Ordias said as he flashed his fangs in a smile.

“Understood Grand General I will send word.” Lubin said before giving Ordias a crisp salute and turning away.

Well, this part of the message was far more interesting. She gave him a free hand to escalate with the Elves in whatever manner he deemed suitable. This essentially gave him the authority to start a war and leverage the entire Empire's resources against the Elves.

That counter-offensive plan might actually be used.

Ordias turned to look over the courtyard behind him and saw his living armour cavalry getting ready to sally out. His Blood Knight were preparing to do the same, and his Vampiric Flyers were also preparing.

He didn’t have his entire army in position for a counter-offensive but after today, he would be giving the order for a general mobilisation of the entirety of the Necoronas. Chances are Zarima would follow suit alongside the human lands to the east. But there was the question of Vulpina Maxima, the Empire had to guard itself from three directions, so there were only so many resources that could be spared for his war.

The hive was a factor, but from what he had observed, they seemed to be moving to some odd locations. The only significant hive presence in the Empire now was in the core territories. The Great Beast was scheming again, of that Ordias was sure.

Ordias leaned against the edge of the wall as he continued to watch the battle. The Elves were losing, but they haven’t realised it yet. Their intelligence operative should be executed for their incompetence, they are fighting on the assumption that they would eventually be able deplete the Fortress’s Shield. However, they didn’t know that the Great Beast’s hive has supplied him with enough Ether Crystals to be under siege for five years as compared to the days at max this fortress used to be able to handle. With his sharpshooters and Dwarven Rangers, the Elves will run out of heads before he runs out of ether.

It was funny really, Ether Crystals used to be so very expensive and rare. Now, they were but common rocks attached to every other thing. Thanks to the hive they could be made in specified sizes. The Magus Rifles uses Ether Crystals as disposable ammunition while the other nations struggle to even sustainably use what they have for national projects.

That was how a human given but one year of training could pose a real threat to a veteran Elven warrior. Give a Magus Rifle to a human who has been trained by Dwarven Rangers? Nothing was truly safe unless you were behind a fixed barrier.

The Elves were getting cut to shreds, the Sharpshooters were doing more work than any of his forces combined. In fact his own Blood Knights seems kind of bored. Those rifles were unsettingly effective at their task, and the tactics revolving around it almost seemed otherworldly.

The Empress called it a test of new startegies formulated by the Great Beast. Apparently, his own hive was using it to an extent, and he noticed that it would have good applications for human soldiers. It seems he was right on several accounts.

“Have the strike force make ready, we should be able to strike soon.” Ordias said to an adjutant who saluted and ran off.

The he turned to another adjutant and made his command.

Have the Mages prepare for a magical barrage…

And make ready a declaration of war…

◦◦,`°.✽✦✽.♚.✽✦✽.°`,◦◦

Minuvae of Clan Emeradine, gazed pale faced at the display before her. This madness was a long time coming. She had met the Great Beast years ago with an offer to help smoothen relations with the Elves but… she was an exile and it seems the elders had no interest in her words. They tolerated her existence, she had supporters amongst some of the clans but it wasn’t enough.

The Elder Wood was dying and the necrotic energies from Necoronas was the cause. All that death was corrupting an Ether Leyline that runs to the Elder Wood. That massive tree that stood at the heart of the Wood of the Ancients was withering away.

Years ago, she had thought maybe she could bargain something out. The Great Beast did not seemed particular opposed to helping to heal the Elder Wood as long as he could get a good deal out of it. But the Elves were stubborn, that Minuvae knew all too well. She was young by Elven standards, just over century old and rebellious like no other. It was that very same stubborness that got her exiled.

Yet now here she was trying to save the very people that exiled her. When she first arrived she thought she was trying to save them from outside threats. But now it seems she was trying to save them from themselves.

The sound of distant horns echoed through the air, low and mournful. Minuvae stood at the edge of the clearing, watching as the first group of soldiers staggered into view. Their armor was scorched and broken, their faces hollow with exhaustion and pain. Some leaned heavily on makeshift crutches, others were carried on stretchers stained with blood.

Minuvae's fingers tightened around the carved bone pendant that hung from her neck, a relic of her late mother. The memory of her mother’s voice echoed in her mind: "The wood gives, the wood takes. But we must never let it die." Her heart ached with the weight of that responsibility.

"They fought bravely," came a voice beside her.

She turned to see Kaelith, a half-elf rogue who had pledged his loyalty to her cause when few others would. His eyes were shadowed with the same grim realization that gnawed at her own mind.

"And for what?" she asked softly. "The wood still withers. The necrotic energy still spreads."

"The Elders won't act," Kaelith said, voice tight. "They're preparing for another offensive, but it's futile. The Vampires have been augmented by the new Empire. We had time before they struck that bargarin, we wasted it.” Kaelith said bitterly.

Minuvae nodded, jaw clenched. "We have to find another way."

"The Great Beast?" Kaelith asked.

"Yes," she said, dread curling in her stomach. "We have to make a new deal."

Kaelith hesitated. "The Beast doesn't deal for free."

"I know," she whispered. "But what is the price of a forest's soul compared to the survival of our people?"

“We could turn to the angels.” Kaelith suggested but even as he said it Minuvae could tell he didn’t really believe it. The past thousand requests have been ignored so why should that change now?

“They won’t help.” Minuvae replied.

“They may help if we turn to the Great Beast. It would be like we are threatening to switch sides.” Kaelith said.

“Threaten the angels? Yeah that sounds like a great idea.” Minuvae muttered.

“What choice do we have?” Kaelith replied.

Minuvae grimaced as she nodded silently. Even if she agreed, the Elder Council won’t, so this whole conversation was pointless.

Minuvae sighed as she moved towards the wounded who were being laid down in the grass. The sharp scent of blood mingled with the damp, earthy aroma of the forest floor as Minuvae stepped forward. Her boots squelched through mud darkened with crimson, her gaze sweeping across the field of wounded. Soldiers groaned and whispered as they lay on rough-spun blankets or the bare ground. Some eyes flicked to her, hopeful or hollow, while others stared unseeing at the stars above. The magic of Necoronas had left its mark on them all.

She knelt beside a young elf whose chest rose in shallow, rapid breaths. His hand trembled as she placed hers atop it. "Rest," she said softly, channeling a faint warmth into his ice-cold skin. His eyes fluttered shut, a trace of peace returning to his anguished features. Around her, medics and volunteers moved like spectres through the moonlit haze, doing what little they could against wounds both seen and unseen.

“They were different…” the soldier croaked.

“What?” Minuvae asked.

“Beams of light… human sharpshooters… Imperials…” the soldier rasped as Minuvae noticed the charred hole in his chest that narrowly missed his vitals. His helmet also had a molten gash carved into it, most likely from a near miss.

Just as Minuvae was about to ask what he meant she sensed a presence behind her, a very malicious presence. There was a scream and shouts of alarm and Minuvae turned to see a Hive Soldier standing behind her. It practically vibrated with power, its was vaguely humanoid with a smooth domed head. It was a hulking creature, towering almost three metres tall and covered from head to toe in armored plate.

“There is more.” the creature said with perfect pronouciation and tone. It was unnerving, like it was mimicing speech.

“I am to deliver a message from the…” the creature began but it suddenly paused and whirled around. A nearby soldier had attacked it and with lightning fast movements, it smashed the sword out of the way with its bare hands. The sword bent and warped as it was sent flying into the forest. Then the creature struck the soldier in the chest with enough force to send him flying back, tumbling head over heels into the dirt.

“A message from the Empire.” the creature said.

The soldiers around Minuvae froze, if the creature went on a rampage now, the wounded would be lost and they have already lost too much. No doubt the monster knew this, which was why it chose this place to appear, using all the wounded as hostages and shields.

“The Empress is unamused with your constant incursions into our borders.” the monster said as it looked around at the wounded.

“She had hoped to prevent such unfortunate outcomes, but you persist in your hostility,” the monster said as it turned to face the lone elder present.

Minuvae glanced around and motioned at the soldiers to calm down but she herself was itching to pull her own dagger. Every instinct she had was telling her to either fight or run. Whatever this thing was, it was very dangerous.

“However, the Empress has lost her patience. Your attack on our fortress is considered a hostile action, and she considers it an unprovoked invasion of the Averlonian Empire,” the monster said as it summoned a scroll and dropped it in the blood-stained grass.

The Averlonian Empire hereby declares war on the Elves of the Wood of the Ancients.

◦◦,`°.✽✦✽.♚.✽✦✽.°`,◦◦

Minuvae sat silently in the Elder’s Sanctum as she listened to the asinine debate around her. The beautiful room, sculpted in reverence of love from the Elder Wood itself, told a story spanning eons. There were carvings on the wooden walls that dated back to the age of the Firstborn, each etched groove and swirling motif whispering of legends long forgotten by most of the younger races. The tales of creation, of war, of unity hard-won and peace eternally fragile, lay dormant in those ancient patterns like slumbering guardians of wisdom.

The sanctum itself was a marvel: great arched columns rose like the trunks of colossal trees, their entwined branches forming a vaulted ceiling that shimmered faintly with bioluminescent veins, a soft glow reminiscent of the Elder Grove under moonlight. The air was thick with the scent of aged wood, crisp moss, and the faint metallic tang of magic that pulsed like a heartbeat beneath the polished floorboards.

They were an old and venerable people, a race of philosophers and custodians, entrusted with the stewardship of the natural world and the moral compass of the mortal realms. They were supposed to be the best of mortals, paragons of reason and unity. Yet here they were, squabbling like children over matters that demanded foresight, not fear.

These Elders, once lauded for their wisdom, now seemed shackled by their fear. Fear of a future they could not predict or control. Their long years had granted them knowledge, yes, but also stagnation.

Minuvae's gaze shifted to the great tree behind the Speaker's podium, the Heartwood, a living testament to their people's bond with the land. Its bark shimmered with veins of silver sap, and beneath its surface, patterns shifted like dreams drifting through water.

Minuvae couldn’t help but mutter to herself "The path they chart, is one of ruin."

The world beyond their borders was unravelling, and if they turned away now, the Elder Wood would die and the only path in the Elders' minds was to cleanse Necoronas and repair the Leylines. But they could not beat the vampires, not with the might of the Averlonians backing them. Throw in the hive, and they might as well burn the Elder Wood themselves,it would make no difference really…

“We must respond!” one elder cried out to murmurs of approval from the council.

“This is matter of survival, if the Empress cannot consent to the cleansing of Necoronas then there is no room for discussion.” another elder said.

Minuvae was about to stand and protest but a hand grabbed hers. She looked to see Kaelith shaking his head at her.

Minuvae bit her lip as she sat down again, she knew speaking up now would just get her thrown out… again…

She has been here for years trying to convince the Elves of a different path but thus far all she has managed to do was get some supporters in the various small clans. The Elders on the other hand have not listened to a word she has said.

Minuvae clenched her fists so hard she felt her palms might bleed, but she has no choice but to listen to rhetoric that might just destroy her race.

If the Vampires want war, then we shall give it to them!