Chapter 49 Sariel
SARIEL
S ariel watched the city of Erzden burn with a smile on his face. This was it, the culmination of years of work. Archers fired flaming arrows over the walls, while hundreds of soldiers climbed ladders to reach ramparts no longer protected by Orlea’s defenders.
“The city is taken,” Marshal Hugh said, joining him at his side. The pair stood just beyond the city’s main gates, which would soon fall to the battering ram smashing against it. “And reports are coming in from Sivik and Tallas that our troops have successfully breached the defenses there, too.”
Sariel’s smile grew. It was a coordinated attack, his split forces assaulting each of Orlea’s remaining forts and cities in one single, glorious night of conquest. Eder’s troops would be doing the same, sweeping along the southern coastal cities.
There would be nowhere to flee and no chance for aid.
The wars were done. Kaus was tamed, the chaotic, flawed human race yoked to two ever-living siblings.
A glorious night.
“Come with me,” Sariel said as the gate collapsed. “I would wait at the docks.”
“As you wish, my king.”
The streets were overrun with soldiers. Screams echoed from afar.
Sariel’s order had been clear. The king of Orlea had been given multiple chances to surrender, and its people given ample opportunities to either rebel or flee.
His sympathy had limits. Anyone who wore the tabard of Orlea, or was a member of its nobility, was to be dragged out into the street and executed.
Even their homes would burn, the smoke and ash a warning to all of Kaus what fate awaited those who resisted the inevitable.
“Is the document ready?” Sariel asked as they walked through the bloodshed.
“Drawn up as requested,” Hugh answered. “I believe Marisa has it.”
“Fetch her, then, once we reach the docks. Assemble your finest soldiers as well. We will want an audience for the signing.”
When they reached the water, Sariel strode across the thick wooden dock planks and gazed out upon the sea.
All the ships had fled. Some were part of Orlea’s fleet, others merchants seeking far less dangerous trade.
Sariel cared not a whit for any of them.
All he sought was a single ship bearing the flag of Angloss.
An hour later, when the fires across Erzden were dwindling, Sariel saw it. A slender schooner flying green flags marked with a white crown. His smile spread from ear to ear as he watched it dock, and down the gangplank marched a victorious Eder and his closest soldiers and advisers.
“I see Erzden is yours,” Eder said, embracing Sariel. “Does the good news continue in Sivik and Tallas?”
“All of northern Orlea is claimed,” Sariel said. “And the coastal cities?”
“Captured or burning,” Eder said. His smile matched Sariel’s. “Victory is ours, brother. Our long work is at its end.”
“Not quite.”
He gestured for Eder to follow. Near the docks was a long table dragged out for the occasion, along with two inkwells and multiple quills. With Orlea broken and the wars ended, all that remained was to officially mark the creation of the island-spanning kingdom and Angloss’s place within it.
Atop the table waited a large scroll. An older woman, adviser Marisa, stood beside it like a proud parent.
Written upon the scroll, prepared weeks in advance of the final conquest, was a listing of rivers and coordinates marking out the individual provinces that Kaus would be divided into, with Sariel ruling over all of them as king.
Beneath those details was a listing of laws governing the hierarchy of power, how disputes would be settled between provinces, and the ways in which humanity’s worst instincts would be quelled. The cleansing laws, they were called.
Hugh had summoned the crowd Sariel requested, and at a word from Eder, his own advisers and soldiers joined them to form a circle around the table.
Eder paused to read the list, and he nodded in approval by the end. Within the listings of territories and provinces, Angloss was given special consideration, for while Sariel intended to guide the rest of Kaus with a firm hand, he needed no such considerations for his brother.
“Just as we discussed,” he said. “I see nothing to change.”
“Then let us sign it!” Sariel shouted to a great roar of the crowd. He grabbed a quill, leaned over the first scroll, and then hesitated. “What shall we call it? I feel as if these documents should have a name.”
“Considering where we are, let us not complicate matters,” Eder said. “This shall be the Erzden Promise, outlining humanity’s greater future with you as king.”
That was good enough for Sariel. He dipped the quill in ink and signed along the bottom.
I, Sytha Penaga, do swear to honor this Erzden Promise, and treat fairly with all my subjects.
He offered the quill to Eder, who signed below it on a separate row of lines, where all provincial regents would renew their vows upon the end of the wars and the conquering of all of Kaus.
And I, Endal Frae, as regent of Angloss, so swear to honor the Erzden Promise, to serve my king faithfully, and to enact his laws for the betterment of all.
When he finished signing, the gathered crowd burst into applause. Sariel and Eder embraced, and there was no hiding their joy.
“Give us some space,” Sariel ordered the bystanders once they separated. “And tell our cooks to prepare a feast. Our soldiers will be hungry, and they deserve to celebrate with the rest of us.”
Soldiers and advisers of both nations reluctantly departed, chatting with one another as they imagined what the future might hold. Sariel waited for them to leave, his eyes lingering on the twin scrolls.
“We succeeded,” he whispered softly. “At last, our glory is built.”
Eder put a hand on his shoulder and squeezed.
“What will you do first?” he asked.
“Fully establish my cleansing laws,” Sariel said. “Mankind’s faults and sinful urges must be addressed. After a generation or two, few will remember their hedonistic ways, nor will they care, once they have known peace from their earliest childhood days. What of you?”
His brother shook his head.
“I do not trust laws as you do, Sariel. I will enact your ideals in Angloss, but do so by appealing directly to their hearts through their temples. Leliel’s teachings are amenable enough to my own beliefs that I believe I can form a new faith to merge them.
Such a reformation will be fraught, as you can imagine, but I believe it the only solution that will truly shape the lawless hearts of man. ”
“I wish you the best of luck, Lord Endal,” Sariel said, and offered his hand.
“And to you, King Sytha,” Eder said, accepting and shaking it. “To a land of eternal peace.”
“And a future of civility and joy,” Sariel agreed, as behind them, the port city of Erzden burned.