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Chapter 23

Devedas had once believed that when he marched the Army of Many Houses through the streets of Vadal City it would be as its conqueror, victorious. Not as its guardian, anxious.

Row after row of soldiers drawn from every other house followed the man in the golden armor through the shadowed streets. Among them were Protectors, Inquisitors, and wizards, even bearers of mighty ancestor blades. They were all on foot, because horses would be overcome by instinctual terror and flee as soon as they smelled demon.

Vadal troops made way for the Capitol’s army. Most of the soldiers seemed nervous at having such a gigantic force of outsiders present, but the ones who trusted the wisdom of Phontho Jagdish understood that the very survival of their people would depend upon the courage of those same outsiders. Those Vadal saluted him. Devedas made sure to return the gesture every time.

Jagdish’s preparations had been so painstaking that every one of Devedas’ officers had been supplied with a map of the city, with all the major streets marked and the districts neatly labeled to keep them from getting lost. The battle for the Capitol had taught them that demons were almost impossible to contain in one place and that they tended to split up and spread quickly, roaming as individual hunters instead of remaining in a pack. It was likely that they would have to rapidly divert troops to respond to breakthroughs so every paltan had at least one Vadal guide attached to it. The maps were for when those men died.

The Capitol had only had one ancestor blade there to defend it. Today they had all of them. The final bearer had recently arrived from faraway Uttara, drawn here as irresistibly the rest. To each bearer had been assigned Protectors and many warriors from his same house, so that when the bearer was slain, someone who might be considered worthy would be there to try and immediately take up their ancestral sword to keep fighting. He didn’t know if this strategy would work, but it seemed the swords themselves wanted to be here, so hopefully they would accept new bearers quickly, and not take offense.

Tens of thousands of warriors had gathered here. If the demons were expecting as little resistance as they’d met in the Capitol, they would be sorely disappointed.

Thinking of the Capitol turned his thoughts to his wife, who was still valiantly struggling to hold the remnants of civilization together. When Rada had sent him a message detailing Omand’s vicious attempt on her life, Devedas had been consumed with a fury the likes of which he’d never felt before. It had given him something to hate even more than the demons. Though he was afraid what would happen once the battle was joined, another part of him was eager to see it through to victory, so he could focus on ending Omand’s miserable existence.

Vadal buildings tended to be tall and ornate structures, covered in lattice openings to let in the cooling breeze. Having been awakened by the noise of clanking armor and stomping boots, the citizens had gotten out of bed to see what the commotion was about. Now they watched the Capitol’s army from their high windows, balconies, and rooftops. So many warriors moving quickly toward the river at this strange hour could only mean one thing.

Some of the people began to panic. “The demons are coming! The demons are coming!”

Grimly, his warriors kept marching. But the cries spread faster than they could walk, and soon the frightened masses began spilling out into the streets ahead of them, gathering their belongings, harnessing teams, loading wagons, and generally getting in the way.

Jagdish had been worried this might happen, because there were over a million bodies crowded into this sprawling warren of a city, and there was no way to move an army through it even in the middle of the night without alerting them. Terrible conclusions would be made. A desire to survive usually overrode sense, and the citizens blocking the road would end up trapped between the threat and the warriors who were trying to protect them from it. A situation that was stupid, but inevitable. Devedas, though, had already given the order: Anyone who got in their way would be removed swiftly with however much violence was required. Anything that blocked the street would get pushed aside or smashed. He didn’t care if it was a banker’s carriage, it would get turned into kindling, and his army would march over the splinters. Thakoor Bhadramunda could take offense afterward.

“Make way!” the Garo around Devedas began to shout. “Keep the path clear.”

Those who failed to do so were promptly shoved off the road. Most of the rest had the smarts to not get trampled.

They entered a workers’ district. The buildings changed from giant works of art to even larger structures that were still decorated, just not as finely. The Vadal simply couldn’t help themselves—if there was a blank surface they were compelled to carve designs on it and then paint them. The endless gaudiness offended his sparse southern tastes, but say what you would about the Vadal, they were industrious, because Devedas noted that atop every one of those roofs were workers armed with newly manufactured Fortress rods.

Those weapons still made Devedas uncomfortable. The last time he’d been on the receiving end of such terrible things a single volley had laid low a unit of mighty Protectors. Hopefully the demons would learn to fear them as well.

Despite the late hour, the workers of this district were already scurrying about in great numbers, as if this part of the city never slept anyway. This was probably accurate, at least recently, since they had been too busy churning out rods. Giant metal tubes were being moved about on two-wheeled carts. They appeared to be so heavy that it took teams of hardy workers to manhandle them into place. Everything else in Vadal was decorated, but those huge weapons were plain. For once the Vadal had lacked the time for beautification.

An exceedingly large worker spotted their formation and approached Devedas. The Garo bodyguards immediately moved to intercept him.

“I know of this one. Let him through.”

The worker was an odd sight, as he was dressed in the finest of robes, but with a rough leather apron casually thrown atop them, heedless of the grime. Over each shoulder was slung a Fortress rod, and unlike the other austere weapons Devedas had encountered, the wooden bits of those two had been decorated with rubies and the long metal parts had been plated in gold. They must have been built before the demon invasion, so though it surely wasn’t the worker’s intent, it was almost as if he was flaunting the illegality of the things.

The big worker gave him a very deep and respectful bow. “Greetings, my distinguished Maharaja. Welcome to the bell metal district.”

“You must be the one they call the gun man Gutch.”

“That I am, Your Royal Highness. It is a pleasure to be of service.”

He knew not what to make of this peculiar criminal. His trade had been the most illegal thing in the world up until the last season, and apparently it had made him one of the secretly richest men in Lok, yet here he was, serving like everyone else. “Jagdish has spoken highly of you, Gutch.”

“That’s nice to hear. And Ashok Vadal once told me you’re the greatest man he’s ever known, at least when the two of you weren’t battling to the death. So I figure we’ll just have to use the recommendations of those luminaries to quickly color our perceptions of each other as we speak.”

“Very well.” Devedas’ army was marching on without him. “But make it quick.”

“I got Ashok’s message. I’m assuming your men intend to hold this area and the great stone bridges to the north and south.”

“That’s Jagdish’s strategy, but it’s a big river. We’ll adjust depending on which way the demons go.”

“A fine plan. I’d caution you, though, don’t get any closer to the water here than the end of that ridge there.” He gestured at a wooded hill overlooking the Martaban. “Your men can take the top, but whatever you do, don’t go down the other side by the water.”

“I don’t usually take battlefield advice from a worker.”

“You should if he’s already got cannons with a fine angle on that area.”

Devedas looked toward the vast tubes on the carts. “That is those things?”

“Indeed. Think one of these”—Gutch gently patted one of the ornate rods at his side—“only much, much bigger.”

“I have seen Fortress rods used in battle.”

“Not like this, you haven’t. My cannon will blow a hole through an elephant.”

“What will they do to a demon?”

Gutch shrugged and spread his calloused hands apologetically. “That’s a bit harder to test, though if Ashok’s right I suppose we’re about to find out. However, if they work as I dare hope they do, then I’d be delighted if you were to keep me and my fine craftsmen in mind for all of the Capitol’s future demon-killing needs.”

Devedas could hardly believe his ears. “In this hour of apocalyptic doom, you are attempting to engage in commerce?”

“There’s always time for commerce, Maharaja. It is a rare opportunity for a humble worker such as your loyal servant Gutch to demonstrate the quality of his wares before the biggest potential customer in all the land.”

Devedas reached up to place one comforting gauntlet on Gutch’s shoulder and kept his voice kindly as he spoke. “I had a friend once by the name of Abhishek. I watched him die, his skull smashed open by a projectile from one of these devices like yours. Despite being a superb combatant who had trained hard his entire life with the finest swordsmen alive, courageous Abhishek never had a chance against a weak, half-blind, mangy fish-eater because he was armed with one of these damned things. Making your foul trade legal—for now—galls me and makes me wonder if I’ve not unleashed a terrible evil into the world. I want you to know that if the needs of my people hadn’t forced me to pardon your kind, I’d spill your guts from your fat belly right now and leave you to die slowly in an agony so terrible that you’d eagerly use one of those ruby-covered guns on yourself to end your suffering.”

“Ah…” It was probably a rare thing for this particular worker to be left without words. “Alright, then.”

He patted Gutch on the shoulder one last time and then removed his hand. “I will make sure my men don’t go down that side of the hill. Carry on.”

Eager to escape, Gutch bowed again, and hurried back toward his dishonorable labors.

Devedas thought better of it and called after him. “Gutch.”

The worker stopped and turned around slowly, surely expecting to get executed. “Yes, Maharaja?”

“You may prove me wrong by killing a great many demons today.”


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