Born a Monster

Chapter 496

496 A Piece of the Actual Plan

Not seeing many options, I returned to where Malkin was seated, with a clear view of the walls. He had a smaller version of a naval spyglass, and was looking through it.

“Have a seat,” he said, indicating the ground next to him. “It’s about to get interesting.”

I hefted a box, which I shouldn’t have done. For one thing, it gave away the magnitude of my returning strength. For another... “What is this crate full of?” I asked. “Lead bars?”

I set it down, nursing both of my shoulders, my elbows. There was no corresponding damage indicator, but I knew pain when I felt it.

Malkin snorted. “Books.” To Tigrin, he said, “And rumors of the Khanate bandits?”

“Led by the cousin, as you had heard.” it replied. “The guards on that side of the camp have his head; when they post it as a warning, that part of your plans is fulfilled.”

“Excellent.” Malkin said. “Tell me, young Pale Worm. What do you know of acid?”

“It tastes bad.” I said. “It is countered by chemical bases, such as lime. The walls of Narrow Valley and of Rakkal’s Glory have been warded against its effects following a... display at Whitehill of what acid could do without those protections.”

“Yes.” he said, smiling. “The walls are warded. The people atop those walls...”

.....

I squinted. “I don’t see anything among the... those aren’t soldiers.” I’m supposed to say a cold feeling passed up or down my spine. Nothing other than the itching of my right jawline, which I scratched.

“Indeed.” he said. “We lose only colonial militia if we use catapults to say, soak the entire top of the wall with acid.”

“But you...” Oh, yes, he could. His theocracy could.

I snorted. “You expected higher casualties by this point. The supplies are already spread thinly. The generals need fewer mouths to feed.”

His smile never wavered. “The generals? No, those fools say that training over time will increase the value of the fodder. Therefore, I don’t care what else they have to say. The church needs the minions not to riot, not yet; so we engineered a situation where a few hundred of them die to clean the top of the wall of enemy soldiers. See those flags, just behind the units making the current push?”

“I do not, but let me guess? Flags of units loyal to the church?”

Malkin tsked. “Of course not; those are units of soldiers loyal to the generals. People who are willing to give their lives, their souls. Even if we have managed things so that they can claim the walls of Narrow Valley without, we hope, such a sacrifice.”

I inched back on my crate, so my knees were near the edge. “It’s not a bad plan.” I said. “Fewer commoners means fewer rewards to give out. Generally, people feel happy after the falling and sack of an enemy city. And it means that their supplies, to include their food, are now your supplies. Food you can offer to those hungry mouths.”

“And any survivors of this stage of the assault whom happen to be crippled can be parceled out among the farmlands, among... ranches.” He said that word as though it were a curse. “We remove twice the families from our ranks, and make the more disagreeable minions servants to those with provable loyalties.”

“A few vats of acid poured into leather bladders and chucked at the wall aren’t... going...” I said, seeing the carts moving. “That is more acid than my time with the quartermaster’s section led me to believe we had.”

“Ah, you see, Tigrin? This is the advantage of having a Truthspeaker to chat with. No dramatic or foolish denials. Observe. Pale Worm, tell me your thoughts on our strategy.”

“The enemy soldiers will be atop the wall to repel the assault. There’s no reason for them to expect acid, and if it’s concentrated enough...”

“It is.” he said. “Lack of fresh water has seen to that.”

I blinked. There were no tears, but then... I document elsewhere my treatment by the people of Narrow Valley. “If concentrated enough,” I said, “it will wash soldier’s flesh out of their metal armor. It will damage people and equipment alike. If the defenders don’t hold back enough reserves, they won’t have the troops to resist an immediate second assault, not by trained soldiers.”

“By nightfall,” Malkin said, “we will have troops within the walls, at least one gate open, and we hope as many as three. The fighting is expected to last through most of the night, but the morning sun will dawn upon our banners, not those hideous things we’ve been looking at for over a week.”

I looked left, then right. “I see no troops assembling for such a combat.” I said.

Malkin waved a dismissive hand. “Details. The generals know when to prepare for the final assault. Let them do what they’re good at. Ah, there they are.”

From a distance, they looked like pebbles, or perhaps ink blots. As they fell toward the walls, the wards stopped the leather, as they were designed to. The bladders broke apart, as they were designed to. And the acid sprayed into mist and droplets and splashes and bucketfuls. The volume of screaming from the wall increased; it also changed in tone.

Horns on both sides blasted out. Advance on our side. Advance on theirs.

I realized my mouth was dry, as a second wave of projectiles was hurled into the air. “How many volleys do we have?” I asked. “I count eight.”

“Nine,” Malkin said, “for the glory of Loki, and nine again for the power he won from his brother, Thor.”

Don’t bother looking that up; outside of the Covenant, it isn’t a thing.

I tried doing the math in my head. “There isn’t room enough for that much acid in our storage tents.”

“May I tell him?” the golem asked.

“Ah, there are the second wave of ladders, approaching the walls now. I don’t see why not, dear Tigrin. You have done well today; take your reward. Tell Pale Worm.”

“We didn’t transport acid.” it said. “We transported salt. Mixing of large amounts of acid would be dangerous, but we have access to a class not unlocked on this side of the Teeth. Industrialist. A social class with abilities geared toward coordinating other people.”

“And getting them to work safely, even in a dangerous task.” I said.

“Indeed.” Malkin said. “Allowing us to not only make acid, but to then dehydrate it, store it, transport it in powdered form, and then here to re-mix and use it.”

In the distance, half a banner fell off the wall facing us.

I swallowed. “Such a feat is... I have heard of no such thing being done in history.”

“It shall become part of our history.” Malkin said. “Written by us, the victors of this war.”

“It certainly does look like you’ll win this battle.” I said. Not all truths need to be spoken.

“Master.” the golem said. “One of the Forge approaches.”

“Oh?” Malkin asked, swiveling his spyglass to see. “Ah, it is Forgepriest Boneskarl, and the Axe Hero.” He tsked. “Still wounded, though nothing visible. A day, perhaps two, and all my plans for you will end with your death.”

I blinked. “Others have predicted my death; I’ve taken measures that may or may not have saved my life.”

“I would guess not.” the golem said. “You need offensive skills to match your defenses. You need at least one warrior class at third level. Tell me, do you have those things?”

“I have accomplished neither of those.” I admitted.

“Tigrin. Please do not belittle our guest in front of company.”

The golem turned. “Your spyglass is mighty; they are well beyond the range of hearing.”

“Hm. So they are.” he said. “Something to be mindful of in the future, though.” He took a sidelong glance at me. “It’s written all over your face. Ask.”

“Do priests of the Forge take new names as part of their oaths? I can’t see a proud father at his wife’s side, declaring that their child shall be named Boneskarl.”

“Boneskarl.” he said. “Speaker of the Bones. His name carries divine weight; he has earned the right to keep the arrogant name his parents have placed upon him.”

He nodded at the approaching priest. “Do you know what a double generation priest is?”

“Please, tell me.”

He remained silent.

“Does the flame of Loki not reveal and enlighten?” I asked.

He ground his teeth, but answered. “He serves Loki, and also the daughter of our one true lord. His presence in the hierarchy of the church helps to diminish those who would otherwise serve only Hela, Daughter of Death.”

“The closest match your primitive religion offers you is Persephone.” the golem said. “The queen of the dead would break her in half and make instruments from her shattered bones.”

“I don’t think you understand my religion; I don’t think you did when you were Tigrin, either.”

Come to think of it, I didn’t really understand the faith of Sobek, let alone the two I had sworn to serve afterward. I should probably work on that, I decided.

The teeth were what the people on the other side of the Twelve Daggers call that mountain range. At the time, it was regarded as impassable.