Chapter 39: War for the Golden City

There was a key trait of the grey-faced creatures that had initially been commanded to carry Eshent from the plains towards the Nocturne Spire. These beasts with flailing tendrils and pale skin were truly special. 

They were tamers. They had spent their entire lives cultivating a collection of living creatures, keeping them in a large It wasn't just the lanky creatures that had been pacified, it was all that they had controlled from the very conception of their being. 

This meant that the Greatbeasts of Shadowhaunt were at Eshent's disposal.

Some were hideous purple worms, skin rotting, decay etching at the corners of their hundreds of mouths. Some of these mouths were big, some were small, but they all screamed shrilly as they were ridden upon, and they had no eyes, so the reins were their only form of commandment. 

While Eshent rode atop one of the Rotting worms, Eisel rode another beside him. He had chosen the cunning man for this task based off the entire point that he seemed quite willing to follow Eshent's lead. Of course, this was true for all of the Priests, who saw him as a figure to follow, but it was especially true for Eisel. For some odd reason, this man seemed at his beck and call, despite his chiding and joking nature. 

So, he was quick to make use of him. 

Across the field, hundreds of priests stood in opposition to the Reapers. 

And behind this horde of Priests, Farsa had been carefully concealed. Even Eshent could not notice her within the sea of yellow. They had no idea what the Reapers could know. Perhaps they were aware that they had Spirit Users amongst their ranks. Perhaps they knew that Farsa was a key element in their plan, maybe their Lord was simply someone who could know these things, and had told them. So, they concealed her, and at the same time, protected her amidst so many shields of flesh and bone.

Eshent and Eisel would first rush the Rotting Worms into the horde of Reapers. This was the first aspect of the plan, distraction. The main goal was to become the shining jewel within their eyes, something they couldn't tear their gazes away from. They would become the prime threat to the Reapers, so that they wouldn't see the approach of the Priests past the massive forms of the corpse-like worms.

Then, they would purposefully disperse them. If they were crowded up too much, it would be hard for the Priests in yellow to make their way in between them and begin the fight. This part of the plan was where their Lord would act most, bestowing the Priests with His blessing to ensure that they could whittle down as many as possible.

Afterwards, they would initiate the third part of their plot, the unification of the Priests as a large force. Once scattered while fighting the Reapers, they would fall back slightly and form a line. This would separate them, and pinch the Reapers in between the Priests and the Ravine. These two steps would be undertaken at Ashburn's command, which Eshent was confident in. This was primarily why he had summoned the massive figure to his side, giving him the largest set of armour within the armoury. Although he was silent, rarely speaking unless it was absolutely necessary, he had a way of commanding and organising people that was unparalleled. 

When the Reapers had been pressed up against the ravine, Farsa, who would have been hiding amidst the Priests the entire time, would signal for torches to be lit afire. Each surviving Priest would have been carrying one concealed in their robes. She would weave these flames and toss them towards the ravine, alighting the trees and logs they had tossed into it previous to the battle. 

And there would be nowhere left for them to go.

Eshent eyed Eisel from afar, the worm underneath him writhing as it slid across the plains at high speeds. They slowly closed in on the horde of Reapers in crimson, and Eshent became overwhelmed by confidence. It surged through his body, warming his blood and shrouding his thoughts. He felt intensely certain that victory would be achieved, even though he hadn't seen any indication of it thus far through the visions provided by his Spirit Contract. 

His yellow cloak fluttered in the onslaught of the wind, and he grimaced as the worm came to a halt. They sat suspended high above the Reapers just below. And at the head of the pack, a figure who had pulled back his hood stared up at Eshent. His greyish-blue pupils pierced through the Visionary's very soul, his maddening smile quite visible. He had been renewed, his skin pale but soft.

He raised his hands outwards, shouting towards Eshent, "are you ready, little Priest!?"

Eshent pulled back on the reins bound to the worm, rearing its head up as the shrill screaming of its many mouths echoed in response to the Reaper. 

He raised his hand to his face to avoid the slobber of the Rotting worm, continuing his shouting. "You look a little young to be a Priest! Don't you know we're trained soldiers? We've come down to your little cave to kill you!" 

What is he talking about? Eshent's eyebrow tremored. He carried a sword at his side, he had picked it specially from the armoury. It was pitch-black, an aged gleam spread across its blade. It had a very short guard, Eisel had referred to it as a 'jian'. It was lighter than most, easier for someone as unskilled as him to manipulate. 

"You're mistaken in that! I'm afraid your trip was wasted!"

"And why is that!?" The Reaper chided.

"Because we're going to kill you! That's kind of why we bothered coming here!" 

The Reaper tilted his head as he chuckled. "You're a funny one! This will definitely be interesting..." 

On the far edge of the plains, Ashburn stepped forward, the colossal armour digging into the muddy soil. It clattered and creaked as he moved, hundreds of Priests trailing behind him, carrying various weapons in between their pale hands. 

He removed the greathammer from its holster on the back of his armour, glaring madly at the Reapers ahead.

Banners carrying the sign of their Lord fluttered in the wind, but it was of no use. Even if they weren't under the protection of the Red Prince, their Lord, their eyes had long decayed, empty skulls devoid of life. They simply couldn't view the Lord's sign, and receive his pacification. 

There would have been no need for war if that was the case. So, they only wielded his banner as a matter of tradition. 

One of the Reapers ahead of them stepped forward. He had brawn, surely, only slightly emaciated by the overall condition they carried. This figure turned towards one of his fellow Reapers, tearing the red cloak away from it. Then, he grasped at the pale, rotting flesh of his compatriot, ripping it off of the bone before stuffing it into his open, bony mouth. The smaller Reaper didn't scream, fight back, or even flinch. This seemed… far too normal for them.

As the flesh entered the larger Reaper's mouth, his skin gradually renewed itself. Sinew, muscle, and nerves wrapped around his skull, collecting as the visage of a middle-aged man with sparse hair atop his head. He turned towards Ashburn, grinning as he pulled out a greatsword from the soil next to him, stepping forward. 

This was the opening fight of the war. This would determine the morale of their entire army.

The Reaper hopped off of the rock face he had been standing on, swinging the greatsword above his head in an arcing motion. Ashburn stared at this figure as he descended, letting out a sharp sigh. He quickly batted the sword away with his gauntlet, catching the Reaper by the face with his other hand. The metal fingers of his gauntlet dug into his flesh, blood spilling down his forehead and cheeks and staining the obsidian-black metal of his armour.

Ashburn grunted as he threw the Reaper into the mud below, splashing up into the air. The Reaper quickly pivoted, rolling to the side before retrieving his blade.

The Reaper swung at Ashburn with his greatsword, but the armoured Priest simply raised his gauntlet, catching the heft of the blade without worry. It didn't even leave a dent in the palm of the armour, so Ashburn stuck his greathammer into the earth before pulling his free hand back, forming a fist, and then driving it into the stomach of the Reaper. He keeled over, sputtering as his features gradually renew, but it was to no avail.

Ashburn kicked at the Reaper, knocking him flat against the rock face behind him, before picking up and raising the fierce greathammer high above his head. It swung down at a speed that seemed to ripple the air around it, sparks flying through the air as it collided with the stone. Blood sprayed against the rock, coating it crimson several feet away from the remains of the Reaper's head. Skull fragments bounced off of his obsidian armour, and he let out a sharp breath as steam erupted from the slitted helmet visor.

Then, he spoke in a deep intonation, "f-cking idiot." 

He raised his hand towards the Reapers, pointing at each one individually.

"Kill them."

The Priests stared at Ashburn with surprise, inhuman grins spreading up their faces. They drew the sign of their Lord, the three-armed jagged triskelion, before brandishing their blades. They cheered loudly, their jeering filling the open air. Fog descended on the field, cloaking them in mystery, waving silhouettes in the dark.

The war for the Golden City was afoot.