Part CXVI: Realm in Chaos

Date: Kapton 22nd, 114 A.U.

The voyager ship of the Xavier Team descended to meet a city ravaged by war.

Lingering smoke still rose from the broken bombed-out buildings and trees in the city, flames still flickering within their hollows.  Dead bodies lay on the ground, corpses mutilated and stripped as they lay silent on the ground.  Bare trees encircled the palace which still stood, though slowly breaking down.  And at the other side of the city, a large black circle encircled the Mothertree which still stood, although worse for the wear. 

Reynyagn gravely surveyed the situation.  “The elves must have broken through quite recently,” he said.  “Keep your eyes peeled—they may still be around.  The palace seems like it’s still standing—we must make there quickly.”

Flek said nothing as he stood, silently surveying the city broken and battered down, slowly lowering his head in sadness.  He paused as the others began to move toward the palace.  And then, slowly, still shaken, he went on.


“Hail Lord Freglak.”  Freglak looked up, face still stricken, as his expression was eclipsed with a sudden shock and astonishment as his mouth dropped to see Reynyagn enter into the room, followed by Flek and a group of other beings, members of each of the races, along with some reptilian being that he didn’t recognize.

“Yo—you,” Lord Freglak stammered as his knees gave way, causing him to sit down.  “You…  You’re here.”

“We’re here,” Flek said softly, sensing the passion behind Freglak’s voice.  “And I…” His voice broke.  “I’ve seen the city,” he said, trying to keep back his pressing emotions.  “The city…  Those elves…  they-”

“It’s not the blasted elves that did this,” Freglak said, cursing, as he shook his head in vengeance.  “The wretched Jaine and his cohort of priests have waged this war against ourselves as the elves wait in the wings.  We’re ruined, Flek…  Our cause is lost…  Unless-”  He looked up to meet Flek’s gaze.  “Except that you’ve come now.  Why…  Why are you here?  Are the elves-”

“I fear that we are not here to bring much good tidings,” Reynyagn replied.  “Although, to confirm what you may have suspected, it is indeed the Xavier Team that stands before you.  We’ve come in search of the Golden Corsha Weapon of the Goblins, believing it to be crucial to resist the Emperor.  We have since seen the city, though, and…” Reynyagn paused.  “I cannot leave this city without doing something to help.”

“I know nothing of such a weapon,” Lord Freglak said, shaking his head.  “Likely Jaine, with his wealth of knowledge about the customs of the past, knows what you speak of, but he and I are sworn enemies as of now.  Your only chance to find it would be to break past his defenses and either find it among his stash or wrest any possible information from him.”  He looked up and there was a glimmer in his eyes.  “To break past his defenses…” he repeated.

“What are these defenses like?” Monty asked, stepping forward.  “As a means of introduction, my name is Monty, a former spy for Governor Astrid in Araelia.  I’m not part of the Xavier Team, but I know much about getting past defenses.  What is the situation like?”

“You…  You’d better sit down,” Lord Freglak said slowly.  “I will explain to you the current situation, but…  Much backstory is needed.  And I believe that will mean explaining to you the whole background of the war so that you might better understand our straits.  And the dismal situation that we now find ourselves in.”



“Your squadron goes out to battle in two hours,” High-Priest Jaine, Prophet of the Mothertree, commanded.  “Your mission is to be of absolute stealth—to assassinate Lord Freglak while the Elder Dragon provides his distraction atop the fortress.  Freglak will find himself flanked by the two sides, and he cannot escape both of them.  This battle will end today.”

“Yes, sir,” the commander replied.  “My men will undertake the mission to assassinate the Lord-Protector.  Have you discovered any information yet about the ship that landed today?”

“Whoever came out of the ship that landed outside Freglak’s palace is likely of no importance to us,” Jaine replied.  “The Mother-Tree will tell me if they are.  They are likely some remaining commanders in Freglak’s army that are returning in his desperate attempt to save himself as he realizes that his end is approaching.  Pay no heed to them.  Freglak will meet his end today.”



“So, in other words, basically all our routes of salvation have been exhausted.”

“Aye,” Freglak said, slumped back against his chair.  “It’s over.  There is no more lingering doubt in the minds of the public as to the power of the Mothertree.  It survived my entire barrage of bombs.  The Elder-Dragon has turned against us for the last time, we can’t breach his defenses, and Major Erklen has deserted.  Before you showed up, we were merely awaiting the final strike.”

“No escape routes?” Flek asked, raising his eyebrows.

“Bah, the elves have all but surrounded the city,” Freglak spat.  “Although they are trying to fool me otherwise, their prancing around minor targets are merely a façade.  They’re waiting for us to destroy ourselves and then they’ll crush us.  They are still a day’s journey away from the city, but they have this city all but in our hands.  There is no escape.”

“Yes, we narrowly slipped past the elven defenses to get here,” Reynyagn replied.  “The choices are laid out on the table.  What is your choice?”

“Excuse me?”

“Will you sit here and wait for them to deal the killing strike?” Reynyagn asked.  “Or shall we let loose one last assault on the enemy, where the Xavier Team will lead your forces to battle in one last effort to break past the priests’ defenses and wrest the information about the Golden Corsha Weapon out of Jaine?”

A gleam sprung up in Freglak’s eyes.  “My military is all but abandoned me to the enemy or waits here in fear,” he replied.  “The gas for our machines is all but one else.  Our defenses are but a broken piece of wood, and our food is running out.  But we will fight.”  He stood up, clenching his sword pommel in his fist.  “Take full control of my army, Reynyagn of the Xavier Team.  Command them however you see fit, and I will do all that I can to aid you.  We will let loose one final assault upon the priest’s defenses and exploit all their weaknesses that we can.  Or I will die doing so.”

There was a roar behind them, and red flames splashed across the windows in the room before a green spiked tail smashed against them, flinging glass everywhere.

“And so the final battle begins,” Number 994 replied.  And lightning crackled across his fingertips.

Part CXV: Escalation

Date: Kapton 21st, 114 A.U.

“Your role is crucial to our survival—do you realize that?” Lord Freglak asked as they quickly walked down the hall.

“Yes, sir—our survival dependent upon my role is, my lord,” Flindle replied.  “The Elder Dragon is our ace in the hole, it is!”

“But it is an untrustworthy ace,” Lord Freglak snapped.  “Listen, Flindle.  The past couple battles you have continued to lose control of the Elder Dragon.  If it continues to break free from your control, we’re finished.”  He turned to stare at Flindle.  “Are you positive that you’ll be able to control it this time?  I don’t know why you were able to control it so well at first and why now you seem unable to control it, but we can only use it if you can assure me that you will be able to keep it under bonds.”

Flindle shuffled his feet.  “Promises, I cannot make sir—the promise I can’t make!” he said mournfully.  “If only I could then I would, but my would does not make the could possible!  I don’t know why he is continually able to escape me!  It’s like some new spirit enters into him and he becomes altogether too violent and devious to thwart my wishes!  I can’t promise anything anymore.”

Lord Freglak sighed as he stopped to lean against a window.  “The whole thing’s crashing in,” he murmured.  “Jaine’s troops are being bested, but he is far too resilient.  He has been preparing for this for longer than I have and has built an excellent defensive structure around and with the Mothertree.  We need more time to be able to crack his defense open—and we don’t have time.  We have virtually no real defenses against the elves—and the elves are seizing upon that opportunity like a dog does with a bone.  We need to crack open Jaine’s position now in order to turn around quickly enough to stop the advance of the elves.  A stalemate with Jaine means checkmate for the elves.”

“What are you saying, sir?”

Freglak sighed again.  “I’m saying…” he pursed his lips.  “We can’t continue with the status quo any longer.  We’re going to have to throw it all in this time.  Our next attack on his defenses is at noon today.  You’re going to lead the troops into battle on the Elder Dragon.  Our scientists have supplied a vial of liquid that will be enough to knock out the Elder Dragon and will give it to you in a needle.  If the Elder Dragon breaks free of your control, use it to knock him out.  We cannot let it turn against our own troops.  Everything is crucial at this point, Flindle.  One little mistake will doom us to the elves, while one breakthrough will decimate Jaine.  Do you understand?”

Flindle shifted his weight uncomfortably, realizing how much weight now rested on his position.  “Yes, sir.”


The Elder Dragon is moving from his cage.  The warriors of Lord Freglak prepare for another assault…

“I will prepare my own defenses,” High-Priest Jaine mumbled as his whispers were snatched away into the darkness.  “Will the Elder Dragon prevail?”

The Elder Dragon will prevail over the ones who now hold it captive.  Today, I will make it clear to the armies of Lord Freglak who truly holds the reins of the Elder Dragon and show them the power that I will unleash upon their forces.  The Elder Dragon will turn against them once and for all this day.  And I will make sure that they are crippled from ever assaulting us likewise again.

 

Flindle came down fast, holding onto the Elder Dragon for dear life as he controlled him, moving to the side to avoid a barrage of bullets before the Elder Dragon spat fire upon the sacred bark of the Mothertree, burning a goblin in the process, before cycling up to come down once more upon the tree, trying to create a large enough diversion to let the troops break in on the eastern side where they now attempted to swing up onto the Mothertree and so establish a foothold.

“Quicker,” Flindle whispered as they came down once more, Flindle ducking as bullets sailed past, loosening his grip on the Elder Dragon’s reins for just one moment.  And in the same moment, the Elder Dragon moved.  Straining past the chains, the Elder Dragon flung itself to the side, rolling, as Flindle looked up just in time to see the brown branch of the tree flying toward him. 

Pain smacked Flindle’s face as the reins were wrenched from his control, his tongue tasting the cool moss, as his body wrapped around the branch before falling, stumbling and rolling, before jumping up as bullets whizzed past him.  The Elder Dragon was loose.  And it had finally broken free.

He had to stop it.

Ducking and moving forward, Flindle unsheathed his corsha blade, using it to help him stop the bullets as he moved closer to the Elder Dragon who was now flying upwards, away from the tangled branches of the Mothertree.  Just a bit closer—if he could just catch up in time to inject the chemicals that he’d been given-

Flindle lurched forward as something grabbed at his foot.  Flindle spun around to see the branch of the Mothertree morphing, smaller branches shooting out of it as it wrapped onto his knees and wrists.  Flindle gave a cry but it was too late as he saw the Elder Dragon cycling down, fire bursting out of its mouth.  And Flindle’s vision was filled with a fiery explosion.



“We’re finished.”  Major Erklen slammed the papers on the table bitterly as he shook its head.  “It’s done.  We’re doomed.”

Freglak slowly closed his eyes.  “I…” he said quietly, and he shook his head, wiping his eyes.  “I had come…  I had come to bond with Flindle…”

“Blast it,” Major Erklen snapped and cursed.  “To be so close…  what happened?”

“I don’t know,” Freglak said quietly.  “But it’s cut off our last reasonable attempt to stop Jaine.”

“Reasonable attempt?” Major Erklen said, looking up.

“We only have one more chance,” Freglak said quietly as his gaze met Erklen’s.  “One last-ditch attempt to smoke Jaine out of his hole before the elves break in.”

“You don’t mean-”

“We have no other choice.  Bring out the bombers.”


The bombs began dropping as the sun set.  Explosions that tore goblins asunder, breaking bones, and scattering dirt.  A turmoil of fire rained down on the Mothertree as the deluge of destruction was dropped upon the Mothertree, completely surprising Jaine’s forces.  For fifteen minutes before Jaine’s forces could bring enough anti-aircraft missiles to the fight, the goblins bombed the Mothertree, covering it in a field of smoke.  Slowly, the smoke began to dissipate as all goblins eyes were turned toward the Mothertree, to see if their hero, their god, had withstood the final solution of their goblin lord.

Slowly, the smoke lifted.  The tree was torn in many places.  The moss was ripped off, and lingering embers still cooled in the Mothertree.  But the Mothertree still stood.  Suspending all belief, the bombs only dealt minor flesh wounds to the tree, failing to break in to the root belief.

And at that moment, fear clenched Lord Freglak’s heart.  And Freglak finally believed in the Mothertree.

Part CXIV: Layers of Deceit

Date: Kapton 18th, 114 A.U.

Ranvier, the ambassador of the auggers, knew that he had failed.  He had started off with such a glorious purpose—such an important mantle to take hold of.  And he had fallen captive to the first enemies that he met.

“I should have been more ready…” he murmured.  But it was all too late now.  They had come unto him twice already looking for info and intel on who and what he was, but he had refused it.  He supposed that it would only be a short time until they began to torture him and he’d have to see how much he could withstand before he caved. 

Ranvier pursed his lips.  It wasn’t supposed to happen this way!  But it had.  And he had failed as an ambassador.

“The augger has been quite stubborn to release his information on what he is and why he is here,” Unyihi Garum said.  “I was planning on torturing him tomorrow in order to gain intel.”

Jaigran narrowed his eyes, thinking.  “He’s our first specimen,” he said.  “You do realize, Unyihi, that this is the first augger we’ve been able to meet?  The only other one that we know of in existence is the one with the Xavier Team.  We can’t be too quick to harm him.”

“Then what do you suggest, zar?”

Jaigran paused, and then a smile flooded across his face.  “A trick,” he finally said.  “A masquerade and a play put in front of him, and with him as an actor.  We will take a group of elves and stage a breakout to free him.  And after he thinks he’s freed, we’ll see what information we can coax out of him then.”



Ranvier nervously looked from side to side as the sleek ship moved quickly through the sky.  Just minutes before he had been whisked away from the giant elven ship which his rescuers had termed ‘the Mothership.’  His rescuers had managed to break into his prison and free him most expediently, quickly killing the guards in their way before rushing him out just as the elves started to wake up to what was going on. 

Ranvier watched as the ship dodged the bullets, but the elven response from the Mothership seemed sub-par to what he would have expected and they kept going as Ranvier gradually relaxed.  Two elves, an orc, and a dwarf manned the ship.

“Wow…” Ranvier said, finally getting a chance to talk.  “I don’t know who you are…  But I owe you a lot.”

“We’re part of the Elven Resistance,” the dwarf said.  “A group of us banding together to resist the Imperial Elves and their plan to dominate Arquenia.  Our spies discovered your presence, and we couldn’t let you be captured by them.  Although, to be honest, I’ve never seen your kind before.”

“My kind…  my kind is isolated from most of the world,” Ranvier said slowly as he exhaled.  “I guess we have a lot to discuss.”



“Greetings,” Jaigran said, shaking Ranvier’s hand even while he sweated.  “I am Nordheim, the leader of our resistance group.”

“Another elf?” Ranvier asked, raising an eyebrow. 

“Unfortunately, many of the other races have been driven into hiding due to Emperor Jaigran’s horrific policies,” Jaigran/Nordheim replied as he masked his true emotions.  “There are not many of them to be found.  And so us elves have had to rise up against the murderous intentions of the rest of our kind.”

“Well, that’s understood,” Ranvier said wearily as he sat down.

“Well,” Jaigran/Nordheim said.  “I must confess that although I commissioned the party to rescue you, I don’t know much anything at all about you or your kind.”

“My name…  My name is Ranvier,” Ranvier replied.  “I’m an augger, the seventh race of Arquenia.”

“The seventh race?” Jaigran/Nordheim asked, feigning astonishment.

“We were almost exterminated centuries ago,” Ranvier said.  “Most of us who lived escaped to an island out in the middle of the ocean where the Council of Arquenia used to meet.  We dwell there now.”

“The Council of Arquenia…” Jaigran/Nordheim mused.  “Strange—I’ve never heard of it.”

“Most likely wiped out of the history books like everything else that the Augger-slayers did,” Ranvier said.  “I could go into it more now, but it used to be where representatives of all the races of Arquenia would come to meet and discuss politics and world affairs.”

“I see,” Jaigran/Nordheim said, nodding. “We can delve into that later.  I must confess though, that it’s somewhat hard to adjust to this new sight.  To think that there was a seventh race all this time and that we’ve just been missing it!”

Ranvier nodded solemnly.  “It’s been a tragedy to the augger people to be driven out,” he replied.  “We would have come back…  But before we could, we heard of the elven Upheaval and the tumult that has caused.”

“Yes,” Jaigran/Nordheim replied.  “However, that raises another question…  Why are you back?”

“I have come to seek an answer to the fluctuation of the Noon-Beam,” Ranvier replied.  “Since I see from your face that you’ve never heard of it, let me explain…”



“You catching it?”

“Every word of it,” Unyihi Garum replied as he looked at the stream of video coming in from the secret cameras placed all around the room that Jaigran and Ranvier were in.  “We’ll have everything to decipher.”

“Excellent,” the Watcher replied, nodding.  “The augger has fallen completely into our trap.  We will take all the information that we need from him, and then…  Then—well—we will have plans for our captive augger.”

I apologize for the lack of posting on Saturdays...  I have all these parts waiting to be posted, but I keep forgetting to post them!  =P

Part CXIII: Walking in Circles

Date: Kapton 15th, 114 A.U.

“I am a bit perplexed by your findings,” Iraina said, raising an eyebrow.  “Despite the extreme lack of evidence, you want me to take so bold a step?”

“From the meager evidence we’ve been able to gather, we’re running out of time,” Oldin replied.  “They’re deadlines are coming up and we’re hapless to stop them.  We need to get all of your available men on this now.  In addition to this, I’ve been getting dangerous reports that they have started to make movement out of Araelia toward the outside.  Have you been posting security there?”

“I’ve posted heavy security in the outside tunnels since we last talked and have done checks on all the corridors,” Iraina responded, raising his eyebrow.  “From our end, the tunnels are completely safe.  We have plenty of scanners and high-tech equipment to make sure that there are no trespassers.”

“Either way, we need more men on the field,” Oldin said.  “We don’t have enough manpower to staff this operation.  We’re getting the run-around by the elven terrorist group, and all of our agents that have gotten close enough are dying.”

“I can try to help, but we aren’t exactly high on man-count either,” Iraina said.  “Remember that ex-Governor Astrid is still at large, wherever she is hiding among the dwarven cities.  She’s wracked terrible damage on us from her betrayal.  We haven’t gotten any word from the Xavier Team since, and most of my men are out searching for her.”

“The dwarven government is still trying to find her,” Oldin said.  “From what I’ve heard, they’re narrowing down on her, though.  They should be able to track her down and capture her within the next month.”

“Well, at least we have some good news,” Iraina replied.  “Now have you gotten any more word yet on your investigation involving James McDonnell and his connection to the C-Watches?”

“No,” Oldin said.  “We’ve still been tracking him though, and it’s from our spies on him that we’ve been getting word that he might have found a way to access the outside tunnels.  We haven’t gotten complete confirmation yet, though, although I’m sure that we’ll be getting confirmation soon.  I’ll need some warrants from you, though.  Once we’ve verified that he’s found a way in, I’ll need warrants to allow my men to do a high-level search of those tunnels to figure out what they’re doing.”

Iraina’s eyes flickered and he paused.  “Very well,” he finally said.  “I’ll send that task off to one of my underlings, but I can’t promise how quickly they’ll be able to get it done.  All the paperwork that needs to be done in the bureaucracy and such.”

Oldin cocked his head.  “Bureaucracy was never a problem before,” he said, somewhat astonished.  “This is for an FRI investigation—what do you mean we’re going to have to wait to get warrants?  We need to stop this elven terrorist group before the deadline.”

“Much has changed since before,” Iraina said, pursing his lips as he fidgeted.  “Those warrants were issued during Astrid’s time—were they not?  There’s been an unfortunate buildup of bureaucracy since then, and I haven’t been able to stop that.”

Oldin leaned in.  “What are you talking about?” he asked, very confused.  “There hasn’t been that big of a build-up, has there.”

“Oh, probably not,” Iraina said, standing up and suddenly taking on a different tone of voice.  “I just don’t want you to expect them tomorrow, that is.  It might take a couple of days, alright?”

“Alright…” Oldin said, suddenly mystified by Iraina’s sudden change of tone.  “Just get them to me as soon as possible, alright?”

“It’s already done.”



“I need you to get more men following McDonnell,” Oldin snapped as he re-entered headquarters.  “I’m getting warrants made from the Governor for permission to get into the outside tunnels.  Make sure that he actually has procured access into them, and then send out a full search party into them.  Don’t get my permission first.  We can’t waste time anymore.”

“Yes, sir,” his second in command replied.  “What should they be looking for?”

“Anything and everything,” Oldin replied.  “Iraina says that all his searches have come up empty for anything in the outside tunnels.  The elven terrorists are thwarting him somehow.  And we dearly need to figure out how.”



“The plan has nearly reached its completion,” the messenger said to the man shrouded in darkness.  “All of the equipment has been set up in the tunnels for launch day.  A few final connections need to be made, though, so that they’ll be triggered upon command.  We’ll still need to work on it for another week until its finished.”

“Very good,” the man shrouded in darkness replied.  “I’ll be sure to let the Emperor know about this development.  And what of the C-Watches?  Are they according to plan?”

“They’ve tested a few of them out, nicely handling some of Oldin’s most annoying agents in the process,” the messenger said, grinning.  “They’ll work magnificently on launch date, clearing the way for the awakening of a new era in Arquenia.”

“I’ve been hearing reports that Oldin’s beginning to get suspicious,” the man shrouded in darkness replied.  “He knows too much about McDonnell.  McDonnell has been too sloppy in his work as of late.  Dispose of him silently.”

“Yes, sir.  Any other commands?”

“No.  I’ll alert the Emperor of our findings so that he’ll be ready to accomplish his part on the grand finale of this magnificently executed plan.  The work is nearly finished.”

“Do we have a date yet?”

“For the launch date?  Oh, I think we do,” the man shrouded in darkness said.  “Pass it on to your executives.  I’ve already set everything else in motion.  Kapton 30th will be the Launch Date.  On Kapton 30th, our plan will be brought to fruition.  And Araelia will be ours.”

Part CXII: Shadows of the Past

Date: Kapton 18th, 114 A.U.

Flek stared out the window as the earth rushed by below as they flew over the plains.  After months of traveling, he was finally returning to his homeland and to Lord Freglak.  So much had happened since he’d last smelled the pine scent of the trees and felt their rough bark.  But as much as Flek wanted to see the sights again, a cold pit of dread was forming within him.

So much had happened.  He had gained much.  And he had lost his power.
Flek knew that he couldn’t have his power anymore.  He had been a fool to make the deal with the spirit in the first place, and his deal had nearly destroyed the Xavier Team.  And yet, as he anticipated the re-entrance into the fortress and into the courts of Lord Freglak, it bothered Flek how much of his renown and prestige among them was built on empty vanities and nothing.

Or even how much his own entrance into the Xavier Team—as the Warrior—had been build no such vain promises.  Promises that he only kept by the wretched being that had lived inside of him.  All gone.

He turned at the noise to see Astrid entering the chamber that he was in.  Glancing at her, he turned to look back out the window, watching as the earth rushed by.

  “Hey,” he finally said to Astrid as she walked next to him.

“Hi, Flek,” Astrid said, and paused for a couple minutes as they just watched the earth rushed by outside.  And then she again spoke.

“You’ve been spending a lot of time here, haven’t you?”

Flek shrugged, not exactly paying attention to how much time he’d spent here since they’d left.  “I guess; why?”

“I know how you feel,” Astrid said, sitting down next to him and Flek glanced at her briefly.  What did she mean?

“What do you mean?” Flek asked, giving voice to his question.

“You know how I murdered the man in Araelia,” Astrid said after taking a deep breath. 

“You might have mentioned it before,” Flek said.  “I have a vague recollection, but no real memory of it, though.”

“I became involved with a government espionage program against a group of, well, I don’t know what they were doing—but they were terrorists of some sort,” Astrid replied.  “And I got trapped as a spy for the government whom the terrorists trusted.”  She licked her lips.  “Long story short, I found myself in the position where I either helped them to murder one of my patients at the hospital, or they’d kill me.  And so I chose to murder my patient.”  She bit her lip.  “It’s taken me a long time to get over it, mostly with Monty’s help.  But listen, Flek.  Don’t let your guilt consume you.  It nearly drove me to suicide…  You have—you have to figure out what you want to live for.  And why.”



“So when did you finally decide?” Jroldin asked, still shocked that Number 994 hadn’t originally been on their side at the creation of the Xavier Team.

“I…  I can’t hang my decision on one moment,” Number 994 replied.  He had just been explaining to them the truth about his loyalties.  “Up until the Citadel of Tzel-Maret, I was still looking and waiting for the right opportunity to betray you, but then…”  He paused.  “Things seemed to change after we joined up with Augger and began our long trip back.  We spent a long time together in our slow journeying, and…”  He pursed his lips.  “I broke the rules of the orcs.  And I committed my course.  I was still worried, though…  The prophesy of Xavier worried me that I might end up being the traitor…”

“But thankfully you weren’t, and it all turned out relatively well,” Zarien said, concluding.  “Though I must say that I can’t believe that you still hated my gut all that time and still managed to keep your self-control.”

“Rule Number 52: Never betray your emotions.  Betray your emotions and you betray your whole plan,” Number 994 said, raising an eyebrow.  “I lived by the rules.  I still do in many ways…  It’s hard to break old habits.”

           

“We should be arriving at the goblin city within the next five days,” Reynyagn said, gesturing at the map. 

“Yes; we’ve been making good time so far,” Augger replied.  “What should we be preparing for?”

“Prepare for anything,” Reynyagn said, pursing his lips.  “When I last left, Lord Freglak had been beginning a war with the Emperor.  While I hope that the strength that I saw in the goblins would be enough to keep back their forces, the Emperor is powerful.  The goblin empire may very well be mostly in ruins.  We need to be prepared to fight off the goblins, and, if their empire still exists, to deal with tensions between the goblin priests and Freglak.”

“These priests intrigue me…” Augger said.  “You said they worshipped a tree?”

“An abnormally large tree, but yes,” Reynyagn said.

“Interesting…” Augger said, shutting his eyes.  “I seem…  I feel like I have an inkling in my memories…  Some hidden thought and memory of my ancestors that bears some resemblance to this…  Something that may lend its insight on why the goblins worship the tree…  But I can’t remember it.”

“We still have a lot of time left before us before we arrive,” Reynyagn reminded him.  “We’ll have time.”

“We’ll have time enough,” Augger agreed.  “We only have so much time though before we can push off the final confrontation with the Emperor.  We must move fast.”

Part CXI: The Watcher’s Plan

Date: Kapton 17th, 114 A.U.

“The Xavier Team has two weapons to our three,” the Watcher said as he paced.  “Not only are they gaining stronger in power, but the two weapons are essential to our plan.”

“I’m all ears to your plan,” Emperor Jaigran said as he lounged on his throne.  “Most all of the ships have been outfitted.  They’re ready for takeoff.”

“We need to get their two weapons and claim the other two first,” the Watcher snapped.  “Don’t act like your part is done already!”

“But it is,” Jaigran said, a smirk on his face.  “My job was to oversee our ships being prepared to enter into outer space.  Your job was to find the Seven Golden Corsha Weapons.”

“And I have done it—for the most part, that is,” the Watcher snapped.  “The weapon of the goblins is practically in my hands.  And the one the auggers have likely is in the Council Chamber of Arquenia—which is where we’ll be heading anyways once the other weapons are claimed.”

“So what’s your point?”

“We need bait,” the Watcher hissed.  “If the Xavier Team knew that we needed all seven Golden Corsha Weapons to wrack the final and devastating end of our plan, they would hide themselves and the weapons where it is nigh impossible to find them.  They already are hiding from us.  We need to find some way to draw them out so that we can take their Golden Corsha Weapons if we have any chance of survival.”

“My plan has nearly hit its fruition in the human’s chief city of Araelia,” Jaigran said.  “Within a couple weeks, the city should be ours.  No doubt we can find worthy members there to act as bait.  Ex-Governor Astrid for example?  I much look forward to a chance to meet her again…”

“You can wrack whatever personal revenge you want to on your previous Xavier Team member in due time,” the Watcher snapped.  “For now, we must make sure that all your calculations are correct.  Where is Unyihi Garum?”

“He’s waiting,” Jaigran said, pushing a button to page him.  A couple moments later, Unyihi Garum entered the room.

“I am here, zar,” Unyihi Garum said, bowing respectfully.  “You wish to hear my report?”

“Yes,” the Watcher said.  “What is the progression of the tests?”

“The ships will withstand Outer Space, and we have tested our food production thoroughly to make sure that they will still work in the far reaches of the galaxy, at least until we arrive at the other planet you mentioned,” Unyihi Garum said.  “The Mothership is still being outfitted, but it should be finished in around a week.  All of the major upgrades have been done and what is left is minor, though quite essential, tinkering and work inside the ship.”

“I see,” the Watcher snapped.  “You are quite positive that all of the tests worked.”

“I am staking my own life on it,” Unyihi said.  “We will be secure.”  He paused.  “There is much, though, that you have not yet informed me of.”

“Such as?”

“Why are we so quick to leave Arquenia,” Unyihi rumbled.  “Why are we deserting this planet and moving to a new one instead of impressing our domain over this one.  If your final form is as powerful as you have said, why do we not use it to crush them?  You have promised answers, but always later.”

A cruel smile played across the Watcher’s face.  “I suppose it is due time that you learned the full truth,” he said standing up.  “Believe me, Unyihi.  My final form is enough to devastate the rebels, but we cannot hunt down every one of them.  There will always be those hiding, those whom it is impossible to stamp out by ordinary means.  And so I have gone for the un-ordinary. 

“I am the Watcher.  The one appointed to be the guardian of Arquenia.  I have immense power over Arquenia—far more than anyone else could dream of.  I am the one who keeps the world running.  I keep Arquenia in its constant orbit around the sun.  And without it, I tell you, it will truly fail.

“Have you not noticed the unusual days—the unheard of temperatures and climates?  The world is already beginning to destruct since I have left my chamber.  The planet is falling apart, but I am still holding it together.”

A chill ran down Unyihi Garum’s spine as he suddenly realized what the plan is.  “You-” he began, and then he stopped.  “You mean…”

“Yes,” the Watcher said.  “When we leave, Arquenia will no longer be able to keep moving.  Once we leave, the planet will spin helplessly out of order until it finally is drawn in by the gravity and is set for a collision course with the sun.  We will leave.  And Arquenia will be consumed with flames until the whole world is perished.  And so we will destroy Arquenia.”


“You never told me he was that powerful!” Unyihi Garum hissed, speaking quickly to Jaigran as they walked down the corridor.  “He has the power to destroy the world, has a final form that he claims is utterly devastating and yet—”

“And yet… what, Unyihi?”

“And yet you still trust him!” Unyihi Garum snapped.  “What prevents him from turning on you once you have given him all this power and making himself the leader!”

“The situation is more complicated than you may think,” Jaigran said.  “Believe me, Unyihi, I have considered this.  I would not be surprised if he ends up turning on me.”

“Then why do you still trust him?” Unyihi snapped.  “What will you do to stop him once he has attained such power?”

“The Golden Weapons are powerful—more powerful than even the Watcher seems to realize,” Jaigran replied.  “I have tested their power.  I will indeed unleash him once I have gained all seven of the weapons because of how essential he is to my plan.  But I have also set up a plan to stop him from betraying me.  Believe me, Unyihi.  I have thought of everything.  The rebels will be consumed in flames.  And we will move on to victory.”

Part CX: Civil War

Date: Kapton 15th, 114 A.U.

“Today marks a new day for the race of the goblins!  As the media leaks earlier this morning have revealed, your high priest has refused to listen to common sense and join with me!  Jaine has utterly refused to work together with me and has declared his own war against me to instate himself as head!” Freglak roared.  “And so we must stand together now, my fellow goblins.  It’s us against them!  We who would destroy the elves who have for so long remained a blot upon our fair land are now being attacked by our own priests who refuse to help me against the elves!  If they are not against the elves, then they are indeed for the elves!  Warriors of the goblins, unite!  Too long have we lain under the foot of the merciless High Priest!  Jaine must give up his position to another and they must not be allowed to stop our victory over the elves!”

Kapton 16th, 114 A.U.

 “The Mothertree has spoken,” High Priest Jaine said solemnly.  “The victory that your Lord promises is built on vanities.  Your troops have been defeated again and again because you have forsaken the Old Weapons and your belief in the Mothertree.  You have seen the Mothertree’s power.  You have seen what it can do.  The time has now come for us to slay those heretics who denounce her power and her voice.  I am the Prophet of the Mothertree!  Lord Freglak shall be lord no longer but will be dethroned.  It is time for a true prophet and a true priest to take the kingship of the Great Forest.  The Mothertree will save us from the elves.  But first we must wage war with the heretics.

Kapton 17th, 114 A.U.

The first gun shot of war erupted in the early morning when a group of Lord Freglak’s warriors stormed the headquarters of the Great Forest Network, the 2nd Largest news station among the goblins, and the one that supported High Priest Jaine.  The equipment was destroyed, and the bloody bodies of the most ardent critics of Lord Freglak were discovered.  The attack was passed off as a group of rebels who had nothing to do with Lord Freglak, but within a few hours, the truth was discovered.  The survivors of the news station, taking security with High Priest Jaine, soon got the equipment to broadcast their news from behind the protection of the priests, calling all goblins to arms against Lord Freglak.

War had begun.

Kapton 19th, 114 A.U.

“The priests’ defenses are too strong,” Major Erklen replied.  “Most of our warriors are scared to death of the Mothertree and won’t go anywhere near her.” 

Freglak leaned over the map which detailed the defenses already put up in the city, as the Mothertree and his Capitol had become the two meeting places of the two new factions that were setting themselves up both in this city, and across the rest of the Great Forest.  He had recalled Major Erklen from the line of battle against the elves in order to put down this rebellion.

“Bah.  Blast the Mothertree,” Freglak snarled.  “Just annihilate it and send the troops in.”

“You know we can’t do that,” Erklen reminded Freglak.  “There are too many of our warriors that still believe in the Mothertree but just think that we need a different High Priest than Jaine.  If we destroy the Mothertree, we’ll be facing huge desertions.”

“The Mothertree is their god,” Freglak pointed out.  “Kill their god, and the rest of their religion will collapse.  Once we show that she is not the all-powerful deity they claim she is, the rebellion will end.”

“If we can destroy it.”

“It’s a tree, Erklen!” Freglak snapped.  “How could it escape a mass bombing?”

“Do you want to know the answer to that question, my lord?”



Four hours later, the first real battle of the civil war began in the trees of the city.  Three squadrons of goblins sallied out from the vicinity of the Mothertree under the direction of the priests in order to break the blockade forming around the Mothertree.  The blockade was broken and the defenders wiped out, but few of the attackers survived to tell the tale to the High Priest.  Although they wielded the Old Weapons, the guns and ammunition on Freglak’s side and shot many of them down before they could come close.  And although once they got close enough, Freglak’s troops were utterly decimated, too many had died in the charge to get there.  The casualties had stacked up so great that they could not afford to do so again.



“Freglak thinks that he has bested us,” High Priest Jaine murmured as he stood atop the Mothertree looking at the city around them, smoke rising from the trees where fire was raging, as skirmishes were sparked all around the city between those fighting for Freglak and those fighting for the Mothertree. 

“Our casualties this day have been great,” the priest standing next to him said.  “If we are to attack him again, we must have a better plan.”

“The Mothertree will provide our needs,” Jaine replied smoothly.  “Let Freglak think that he has won the battle this day.  We will merely laugh at him when the tables are turned on the morrow.  I have spoken with the Mothertree today and she has revealed much.  Freglak has already lost another crucial battle to the elves on the warfront today, although Freglak has yet to hear about it.  The Elder Dragon has broken loose once more.  The troops of war are gathering.  And the Elder Dragon will be our key to victory.”

I apologize for the lack of posting these past two weeks.  We should be moving back to a normal posting schedule now.

Part CIX: Moving On

Date: Kapton 15th, 114 A.U.

“So where are you going next?”

“We don’t know,” Reynyagn confessed, sitting in a ring of chairs with the rest of the Xavier Team, Sereth, Hazael, Monty, and Rezja.  “We didn’t have any immediate idea of what to do after we got the Arglem.”

“I see,” Rezja replied.  Following their miraculous escape from the Caves of Dragla, the Xavier Team had decided to go back with Sereth and Hazael to Rezja and the group of rebel elves in order to recuperate and plan their next mission.”

“We have two of the Golden Weapons to Jaigran’s three,” Flek pointed out.  “The Golden Weapons play an essential role in this battle, so I would think that the battle is leveling out as we get more and more equal.  We need to find the others.”

“What more are there to find?” Astrid asked.

“One was given to each race,” Augger replied.  “Jroldin has the weapon of the dwarves, and Reynyagn wields the weapon of the Sla’ad.  Jaigran appears to have the weapon of the orcs since he can use orcish magic, and if he wields a spear, that would be the weapon of the humans.”

  “I don’t know what the other weapon is, but he got it from the Citadel of Tzel-Maret,” Rezja said.  “That much we have picked up on our communication esponiage.”

“Then he most likely has the weapon of the elves,” Augger said.  “Meaning that the last weapons still out there are the weapon of the goblins and the weapon of the auggers.”  There was silence as the members thought.

“What do you know of the weapon of the auggers?” Jroldin asked.

“Little,” Augger replied.  “I know where it was once kept from my memories, but that place was destroyed by the augger slayers.  I am confident that my augger brethren are in hiding and not slain, but I do not know where they hid themselves.  Alas, for my ancestor’s betrayal of his own kind.”

“Jaigran shouldn’t know it either, though,” Monty pointed out.  “And if we can only get the other, we’ll be equal with the Golden Weapons.  We almost beat him in Tzel-Maret, when he had one more than us.  When equal, and with all of us together, we most assuredly ought to have a fighting chance against him.”

“What do you know of the weapon of the goblins, Flek?” Zarien asked.

Flek pursed his lips.  “I had never heard of golden weapons until I began on this quest.  Unless…”

“Unless what?”

“If it’s somewhere in our forest, then there’s only two people, or groups, that could have it,” Flek said.  “Either Lord Freglak has it somewhere in his military arsenal, or, which I’m afraid is probably the more likely possibility, the cultic priests who worship the Mothertree have it.”

“The priests of the Mothertree appeared weak, though not completely powerless, when I was among your kind,” Reynyagn said.  “Besides which, they believed the prophecies.  If they believe in Xavier’s prophecies, which I would assume that they do, they should jump at the chance to help us.”

  “Assuming no further conflicts escalated between them and Lord Freglak,” Flek muttered, before raising his voice.  “In all honesty though, that seems like the best plan that we can go after at this point.  We need to be more powerful before we challenge Jaigran again, and this seems like the best way.  And I would be glad to see my lord again.”

“Perhaps you could also bring him messages from us,” Rezja asked.  “We’ve been trying to send ambassadors to him to join us together against Emperor Jaigran but have not received a reply yet.”

“We’ll talk to him,” Reynyagn said.  “As long as we get there safely, rest assured that Lord Freglak will begin to send you a response.”


“I miss seeing you here,” Hazael said.

“Hey, I will too, but we should be back here soon enough assuming everything goes well,” Zarien replied.  “This seems like it’s becoming our main base of operations.  I don’t think your friend will like it very much, though.”

“Sereth…  Sereth will manage,” Hazael said slowly.  “She just need to learn to adjust.  You do too.”

“Yeah,” Zarien said, shrugging it off.  “We’ll see.”


“…So I’ll be gone for a while, okay?” Zarien asked, talking slowly to Cortna while she tried to build some structure with blocks.  “I’ll be back as soon as our mission is over.  Don’t forget about me, can you try?”

Cortna said nothing, pursing her lips tighter as she balanced another block on top of another. 

Zarien bit his lip as he leaned closer.  “I love you, Cortna,” he said, lightly kissing her on the cheek before standing up.  Cortna stiffened, and after waiting to see if he might get any response, Zarien moved toward the door, taking one last glance at her before closing it behind him. 

A single tear rolled down Cortna’s cheek.


The engines began to roar as Zarien hiked up the last of the many bags he had been dumped with, trying to put most of the weight on his mechanical leg as he hobbled over toward the gangplank.

“I put the correspondence and intel for Freglak in the third compartment,” Rezja was yelling to Reynyagn over the roar of the engines.  “He should find the information quite satisfactory.”

“I’ll make sure he gets it!” Reynyagn replied.  “We sent some messages to Araelia as well to see if Governor Iraina will establish any connection with you.  Ex-governor Astrid, our primary communicator in Araelia, has been unclear recently of her communication with Iraina, so I’m not completely sure what’s going on there, but we’ll keep trying.”

“Many thanks!” Rezja replied.  “Have a safe voyage!”

“And keep yourselves safe as well,” Reynyagn replied.  “We’ve got a firm base here that could do much to help our cause.  If we can keep it.”

Book IV: The Watcher has begun.  To wrap up Book III's comment contests, Warbaron has officially won in a landslide.  As his prize, he gets to name and come up with a personality of one of the auggers that live in Quelia (the main island where the Auggers live.)  The auggers will play a central role in Book IV as it comes to a close.  Book IV: The Watcher has now begun.  The serial will run until Part 136 and possibly an Eprilogue to bring the saga to an end.  Therefore, without further ado...

Prologue: Ambassador of the Auggers

Date: Kapton 14th, 114 A.U.

Ranvier, ambassador of the auggers, was on a mission to discover the secrets of the Noon-Stone and why it no longer went about its course.  He moved under a tree as he noticed the airship coming up, pressing himself against it as he watched it move toward him.  It may be that the elves’ reign over the main continent had already been destroyed and the airship may now be hostile, but he wasn’t willing to take many chances.  He had already decided that the best course of action was to travel until he found civilization and could question a non-elf about the current state of Arquenia.

“The life source is right below us,” the elven pilot said.  “We just passed right over the source and it’s still there.  It must be a fugitive or nomad of some sort.”

“Either way, land the ship,” the elven commander replied.  “I’ll tell the orcs to prepare to engage the being, whomever it may be.  And we will discover why it has strayed so far from the fold.”

Ranvier watched the ship landing with worry.  Had they somehow spotted him?  He put a hand to his gun, preparing to fight if needed.  They may yet be possible allies, not enemies.  He watched from behind the tree as a door opened, and then as orcs began to step out.

Orcs.  Ranvier searched his memories.  They had allied themselves with the elves.  He couldn’t take the chance.  It was time to run.

Bolting, Ranvier moved toward the forest that was nearby, hoping to find cover there.  He didn’t dare shoot at the orcs unless they shot first.  They may yet not be with Jaigran’s orcs.  A lightning bolt sailed past him, singing the air.  That was it.  They were enemies.

Spinning around, Ranvier turned to fight, firing several shots as the orcs moved closer, but the orcs were already ready.  An explosion filled his mind as he was hit, stumbling backward as another hit him, his consciousness quickly receding as the blackness set in.  His last thought was that he had just failed as the ambassador of the Auggers.

And then there was blackness.

Epilogue: Declaration of War

Date: Kapton 14th, 114 A.U.

A fly buzzed around the pavilion where Lord Freglak and High-Priest Jaine sat, discussing politics, the stage opened up so that any who passed by could see them, although they had set up equipment so that they couldn’t hear.  Newscasters stood outside discussing their predictions for this meeting.  They met behind closed doors—but doors of glass—a precautionary measure to keep any devious play of assassination.

“We don’t have to be political enemies,” Freglak continued.  “We can seize our victory over the elves if we put aside any of our previous quarrels and work together at our ultimate joint goal of defeating the elves.  Let’s face the situation rationally.  You need my leadership, and I need your prophesy.  And the rest of the goblins need to see us united.  You have surely adequately proven the power of the Mothertree.  Together we can destroy them.”

Jaine sat for a moment contemplatively before he leaned in, his thin lips opening as his tongue flickered.  “Nice speech,” he said.  “But not good enough.”

Freglak stiffened.  “The people want unity,” he said in a low tone.  “You’ve seen their reactions to my speeches the past couple days.  They love it.”

“Ah, yes, the general populace loves to hear propaganda,” Jaine said.  “They eat it up.  But I think that, between the two of us, we both know that their loyalties have more shifted toward the Mothertree than toward you.”

“A loyalty which I shifted back with my call to unity, what of it?” Freglak asked, trying to move on.  “They need to see unity, and so I don’t see why we should continue to bicker amongst ourselves.”

“The words of the one who knows that he’s already the underdog,” Jaine mused, but then his tone sharpened.  “Let’s look at this realistically.  Your stock has been utterly defeated.  That’s the only reason that you’re begging here.”

“I’m not-”

“Let me finish,” Jaine snapped.  “I am the victor and you are the underdog.  So you will hear my terms on this, and about all other issues.  We can stand unified for the public—whatever we need to do to get them behind us so that we can beat the elves.  But the war will be done according to the rules of the Mothertree.  No profane weapons like guns or tasers, but by the Mothertree’s standards, and by the Mothertree’s strategies.  That will be our compromise.”

Freglak bristled.  “Compromise?” he snapped.  “What kind of compromise is that?  Do you expect me to become your puppet?”

“I expect you to do whatever I tell you to do,” Jaine said coldly.  “You obviously have shown yourself inadequate for the task of defeating the elves.  The public knows that only the Mothertree can bring us victory.  You will obey our requests because we have been already declared the victors.”

“And if I refuse?”

A smile played across Jaine’s lips.  “I think we both know the answer to that, Freglak,” Jaine whispered. 

Freglak stiffened as he pondered it, before he violently stood up.  “Very well,” he said coldly.  “I believe that this meeting is done.”

“And the conclusion?” Jaine asked, standing up, still smiling.

“I believe that we both know the answer to that,” Freglak replied.  “You obviously are unwilling to work with me and have so committed political suicide.  Enjoy your war.”

“Oh, I will,” Jaine said, eyes narrowing.  “And we will see who has actually committed political suicide, Freglak.  Pray to your gods, if you have any.  You’ll be needing them.”