The Greatest Sin

Iliyal opened his eyes in his office as he stopped remembering Malam’s teachings. ‘Conformity propaganda is a farce, we have blades for that. Propaganda is about cutting hearts our blades don’t reach.’ It had been a revolutionary idea in the past, propagandize not to raise morale, but to destroy your opponents.

Knowing the White Pantheon, it would still be revolutionary here. He stared at the articles his men had written: ‘Not Our War!’ That was a perfect catchphrase to rally behind for the Epan Nations. There were more there too: ‘Divine Grace: Invasion!’ That was a good sarcastic title. ‘Reclamation War? No Thank You! We Want Real War!” That was from the other side, a pretentious article filled with inaccuracies that would only make people angry at the writer.

And then Iliyal stared at his own piece. His men were good, but they were new, they were modern. They didn’t fight in the Great War. They didn’t understand the depths conflicts descended to. ‘Fortia visits Melukal.’ A simple title, but it would fit excellently if what Kassandora told him was true.

Now all Iliyal needed was the images.

 “How many men are inside?” Kassandora asked over the phone. Damian raised his binoculars as he looked at Melukal in the distance. His team had taken an abandoned car, a rather fancy one, to leave the city. It had been too good to waste, and the owner wasn’t going to see it anyway, with air-conditioning and tinted windows and leather seats. And some fines drinks too. Most of the soldiers had taken something, confectionary and booze were the popular choices. Cigarettes had been taken, although Damian assumed more than a few purses and jewels had been looted as well. They weren’t going to be used anyway, as long as the men didn’t show off the spoils, they could keep them.

“I would say? Twenty thousand? Maybe fourty? Sixty would be pushing it.” Damian replied. He was only estimating at this point from the battle. Guardians had flooded into the streets and overwhelmed barriers that had been put up, the only reason they didn’t push further was because the sorcerers had separated into trios which then stalked the streets.

That slowed Fortia’s army down massively. As did the hedgehog landmines that had been put into every nook and crank in the entire northern part of the city. No one wanted to enter a building when you didn’t know which door was about to explode, which cabinet would clear a room of life and which carpet actually hid a death trap underneath.

Fortia herself had not gone far, she had ran deep into the city, then realised quickly that Damian would not send a single troop for a direct confrontation with her. After that she merely stayed with her troops and chased the odd team of sorcerers away. Apparently they had lost a dozen of the fifty two that had been sent. Granted, two of that dozen was friendly fire. Kassandora spoke through the phone again, she sounded more than pleased with the situation at hand. “Have they raised flags?”

Damian looked through his binoculars as he scanned the buildings. The Green-Red-Blue of Kirinyaa had indeed been taken down and the Pantheon’s White-Gold was soaring in the wind. The Gates of Kirinyaa were barely visible, but it was obvious they had the White-Gold fixed to their sides too. “They have.” A few mages were hovering around the buildings, several more were looking around. Multiple teams had landed on roofs.

Civilians had stopped fleeing the city at this point. Those who had not left by now were considered lost. “There’s about two, three thousand people still left in the city.” Kassandora had said to give basic evacuation support, but not to push anyone who didn’t want to go. Sandfire needed a sacrifice.

“Of ours?” Kassandora asked.

“Civilians.” Damian replied flatly. He had not pushed any of them. He gave them everything he could have given them, trucks and supplies and fuel and more than adequate warning. But not a single person had been forced out of the city at sword point. That was different than the past, when the Twin Hearts had said to evacuate an area, an area would be evacuated, whether the people wanted to or not. It was for their own good after all.

“Understood.” Kassandora said quickly. “How many of ours?”

“Everyone’s out.” Damian replied.

“And losses?”

“About two hundred, we’re still counting the dead. Twelve sorcerers lost. There’s about four-hundred wounded. I can have clear figures tomorrow.”

“Give them once you return here. I expected twice that. Good job General.” Kassandora said something. Damian heard the pop of something through the phone. Was it a bottle? He wanted to ask but then there was no reason to check up on the woman. She was a Goddess first and she was his boss second. That was already two reasons enough to contain his curiosity. He didn’t ask his parents when they drank either. “And the Binturongs?”

“Destroyed. The sorcerers crushed them into balls.”

“Perfect.” Kassandora said. “The sun is setting here, how is it over there?”

“It’s almost dark.” Damian replied as he turned to the men. Pawel and Mateusz and Wiktor, in their light clothes. Mateusz had injured his arm but healing had fixed it quickly. Two hours ago, they were in bloody shirts, a quick stop at one of the clothing stores in the south of the city had changed that though. They were looking at him, Pawel was indicating to put Kassandora on loudspeaker. Damian returned a rude gesture with his free hand. Kassandora very obviously drank something and shouted a cheers!

“General?” She asked, her tone almost giddy and childish.

“Yes?” Damian replied.

“Send me the images immediately, you have the green light. Blow it.” And Kassandora disconnected the phone. Damian put it into his pocket and looked at the men. They knew, the sappers had to know, Kassandora knew. Damian imagined that Arascus knew as well, he spent too much time planning with Kassandora to not know, but no one else was made aware of Sandfire. Not even the sorcerers were told why they were truly holding the city for a week. Everyone had thought it was a mere scouting operation to test Fortia’s forces.

Well it was, Damian had to report on the combat capabilities of Fortia and the mages, how well she adapted to modern artillery and whether the Guardians were a fighting force or not. But that wasn’t why they had to hold for a week. If they did, Kassandora would have probably assigned them a Divine. But she hadn’t. A Divine would have made it suspicious. Who knew what Divines were even capable of?

Fortia was the ultimate power in that city right now. If anything happened to Melukal… Well, why didn’t Fortia stop it? She was a Divine after all, who knew what Divines were even capable of? “She gave the green light.” Damian said and sighed as he put away his phone. Pawel took out a cigarette and lit it. Wiktor prepared his camera.

“I’m ready.” Wiktor said, he took a picture of the city as a test. Mateusz plucked a cigarette from Pawel’s pack. He smoked half of it in one long drag. The man didn’t even cough after. Pawel did the same. He laughed to himself for a moment, then shook his head and didn’t share the joke.

“So it goes.” Damian said. He pulled out the flip-phone one of the sappers had given him. When they were holding the city, Damian had simply thought about doing the job. Guarding the sappers which set the explosives. But now?

But now, he was going to pull the trigger. He took a deep breath and flipped it open. Kassandora had told him to. Kassandora had said to. Kassandora had ordered him to. He had killed men before, he had killed men in this battle right now. He sent soldiers to their deaths. He had men sacrifice themselves for him when the Twin Hearts still existed. He had buried the dead. He had told wives their husbands were not coming home.

But he had never sentenced a city to die. Damian took a deep breath as he looked at the three men. “First time for everything, huh?” He said mirthlessly.

It wasn’t funny.

He scrolled to the contacts. There was only one. ‘Sandy’.

At the end of the day, he was a soldier. Soldiers followed orders.

He was only following orders.

He selected that contact.

Soldiers followed orders.

He pressed down twice on the keyboard to get to call.

Only following orders.

And he pressed the green button.

Fortia took a step and stopped. Something smelled off. Something clicked. She didn’t know what. But she heard it.

She turned around, her men were cheering in the city square. Some mages were entertaining them with a show of animals manifested out of the fountain’s water. The Grand Arch of Kirinyaa cast it’s dull shade over them.

They didn’t see it, but Fortia saw. Her armour re-appeared around her instantly. The marble tiles underneath them buckled and cracked in one moment.

And in the next moment, it was as if Melukal had disappeared and was replaced with Hell.

Fortia jumped as high as she could into the air, soaring above the skyscrapers and towers. It was an instinctive movement to protect herself, she knew she wouldn’t be able to walk tomorrow with a jump like that.

But she didn’t care. The train station in the east had just unloaded a shipment of her troops from the north. And the train station then cracked like a nut hit by a hammer. The windows shattered, flames erupted out of them. The ceiling fell, walls collapsed. The screams and shouts began.

And then one of the huge tower blocks fell. A car crashed in the middle of the street, the black asphalt underneath it flew upwards as the ground opened up. The entire road did. Then the next. Another tower block collapsed, the few remaining windows in it exploding into a mist of glass. Mages looked around in shock, one team reacted quickly and lifted off into the air.

They were submerged in a fireball and torn apart by shrapnel. The Grand Arch of Kirinyaa collapsed as its foundations gave way. Where the proud city square had once stood, with all its abandoned stalls and shops, now lay the skeletal network of sewers and tunnels that had exploded. Napalm, Fortia knew the smell of that toxic substance.

The cobweb of sewers, exploding in flame, started to expand across all of Melukal. It ploughed through housing districts like an avalanche, collapsing buildings and bathing all in fire. A chunk of rock came flying at Fortia. Her spear materialized in her hands, she stabbed that stone and sent it cascading in another direction. It sent her spinning wildly through the air.

She looked north. Flames and falling buildings.

She looked south. Death and devouring infernos.

She looked east. Eradication and end of days.

She looked west. Hell and Hellfire.

Kassandora stared at her email in her laptop screen. An email came. It had no text, only an image attached. She clicked it open. Melukal, in the desert, perfectly picturesque, as if an artist had decided to capture the beauty of a modern city gleaming in the evening sand. The sky was all vivid purples and oranges and reds, with the dark blues and stars of night in the east.

Another email came through. And another. Ten. Twenty. Fifty. One after the other. Kassandora opened the latest photo. Melukal, in the desert, perfectly picturesque, as if an artist had decided to capture the end times. A city submerged in fire. The orange and red and yellow flames contrasting the sky to make it a terrible dark black.

She sent the images off and took another drink of her whiskey, straight from the bottle. This is why she was the Goddess of War, and this is why no else even came close.