Friend or Foe - 1
The Barandiga tribe, having gone to the trouble of coming all the way down to the front, abandoned it before long. Even a kid bolting out of church on a Sunday morning would have looked more deliberate than they did.
But the Barandiga tribe’s sudden exit was more than enough to shock the other tribes. Until now they had been treated as a neutral faction; the moment they made contact with an Imperial envoy, they pulled off the line. Anyone could see what that meant: even the Barandiga had swung over to the Imperial side.
Their fighting strength was nowhere near enough to drive the course of the war—barely enough to shake a single stretch of the front—but the symbolism of the sole remaining High Priest was something that spanned the entire North. In matters of faith, his authority rivaled or even surpassed that of the Khan.
"The Kyrgia tribe has surrendered. They bowed their heads out of fear of the Blade of the Wicked, but say they have at last understood Heaven’s will and wish to serve the Empire."
"The Birs tribe has laid down its arms. They offered five hundred horses and beg for generous treatment."
Once the Kaitana—a tribe of considerable size—and the Barandiga, the very heart of the faith, had both submitted one after another, the remaining tribes scrambled to lower their heads as well. The fact that they surrendered before the Empire even approached them showed just how desperate they were.
Before the Barandiga joined them, most tribes had probably thought that simply showing a willingness to surrender, or at least not actively opposing the Empire, would be enough. Honestly, the Duke of Victory and I had thought the same. Having those dog-like nomads stay quiet was already a win.
But the more heavyweights bent the knee, the less reason the Empire had to wait for the rest. There was no need to hold the bus until every seat was filled; just pick up the passengers you actually wanted and drive off.
So the tribes that had been waiting for an Imperial envoy all came running at once. Move too slowly and the doors would close—and that would be the end of them.
"The Digera chieftain has made contact with Marshal Ravirze. He offers his own neck and begs mercy for his tribe."
It even reached the point where a tribe still fighting Imperial forces on the front decided to surrender.
Faith really does matter, doesn’t it.
It was astonishing. The Digera had been a constant presence on the front since the earliest days of the war, and once the Barandiga appeared they had pressed their attacks even harder. The High Priest’s arrival had clearly been the spark—they were a tribe overflowing with faith.
And then that same High Priest surrendered to the Empire. The faith buff that had lifted their morale flipped overnight into a debuff of pure despair. In the end the Digera chieftain came alone to offer his surrender. He had fought for his faith all this time; now that faith itself had been handed to the Empire. Of course he folded.
"The Digera tribe’s sins are not light, yet they have recognized those sins and submitted to Heaven’s mandate. The chieftain will pass his seat to his child and withdraw into seclusion. That will be the full measure of his punishment."
"Yes, Your Grace. I will convey it at once."
At the Duke of Victory’s ruling, the staff officer bowed and took up the communication orb. For a man who had inflicted no small amount of damage on Imperial forces, it was an extremely lenient sentence—but the Digera chieftain was the first of the hardline tribes to surrender. Showing a bit of clemency made him a perfect billboard.
From here on, the tribes that would fall into the Empire’s arms were no longer limited to the surrender faction and the neutrals. Even among the hardliners, the deeply faithful would fall into confusion, and every time their thoughts grew tangled they would remember the Digera and cling to a sliver of hope.
If I bow my head now, at least I can keep my life.
Thanks to you, things are going smoothly. I’m grateful.
The situation was so positive that I offered my thanks to the Eternal Blue Sky. Even without her there would still have been tribes like the Kaitana that surrendered, but there was no denying that the Barandiga’s joining had vastly accelerated both the scale and the timing.
With her sacred relic and the stigmata, I had brought the High Priest over, and the High Priest had brought a portion of the North with him. The way I obtained the relic and the stigmata had hardly been pleasant, but help was help.
……
Something was odd, though. The woman who usually preened and cracked jokes whenever I thanked her was silent.
What was this? Had the fairies grabbed her by the hair? In that case she wouldn’t be in any condition to talk.
It’s strange…
Fortunately it seemed her hair was still free; an answer came soon enough.
From the High Priest… there’s no reaction at all…
I nearly tilted my head at that. I already knew the High Priest wasn’t properly fulfilling his role, but the man had seen the sacred relic with his own eyes. According to the Eternal Blue Sky, something should have changed.
Right now there’s no temple and no relic left in the North, so the High Priest doesn’t act much like a High Priest—but once he sees the relic, it’ll be different! He’ll realize I’m still in this world and start offering proper worship. Then power will flow into me, and I can use that power to revive the World Tree!
Right before the negotiations with the Barandiga, when I had asked what would happen if I handed the relic over to the High Priest, the Eternal Blue Sky had answered in a voice full of anticipation and excitement.
That was why I had proudly revealed the relic and even declared I would transfer it. I had believed the Barandiga would join the Empire and that the true faith would be restored, helping the Eternal Blue Sky in the process.
Unfortunately, it seemed the High Priest had simply joined the Empire and nothing more.
Th-this can’t be… Even a High Priest in name only… how could he see the relic and not react…
The Eternal Blue Sky’s pitiful muttering kept ringing through my head without pause.
From my perspective the Barandiga’s surrender alone was more than enough, but I couldn’t just ignore a deity in full-blown panic. The easy surrender I had received from the Barandiga was thanks to her in the first place. Eating and running just wasn’t right.
Uh… maybe—
What? What? Did you think of something?
The moment I carefully spoke up, the Eternal Blue Sky latched on with desperate hope.
Faced with that reaction I almost couldn’t bring myself to finish the thought, but I forced the words out. At the very least we needed a clear cause before we could start looking for a solution.
Is it possible he simply doesn’t know it’s a sacred relic?
Huh?
The sheer incredulity in her voice left me a little sheepish. But it wasn’t impossible.
Can a High Priest who can’t even do his job properly recognize a sacred relic? Until it was drawn from its sheath, even the god herself didn’t know what it was.
A truly devout man might have sensed what it was, or at least examined it carefully.
But the High Priest had merely looked at the relic sitting on the table. Thinking back, he hadn’t even touched it. At the time I had assumed a High Priest could tell just by sight—but he had simply glanced and moved on. He looked with his eyes because looking with his eyes was all he could do.
The Eternal Blue Sky was silent for a long while after that bombshell possibility.
…Want to be the High Priest instead? You’ve got the stigmata and the relic. I feel like you’ve got more faith than he does.
Even the words she finally managed to spit out sounded thoroughly broken.
I’ll pass.
That day, I learned for the first time that even a god can cry.
I hadn’t particularly wanted to know.
By now nearly every tribe that was going to move had moved. Giving them any more time would be excessive.
"So the Barandiga surrendered as well."
I leaned my head back and murmured. The sole surviving High Priest—after the Apostle, the Grand High Priest, and countless lesser priests had all died.
The Barandiga chieftain, the only High Priest left, had done little more than wave that title around; he had avoided external activity so carefully that even his temperament was hard to pin down. Would he stand against the Empire as a High Priest, or would he choose safety? That had been the question.
The question was settled now. The High Priest of the Sky God had bowed his head to the Empire’s heavenly mandate. Those who still carried faith in their hearts would most likely follow him.
The sorting is finished.
I had finally untangled the knotted threads. Each different strand could at last be separated.
Once I had tried to weave those different threads into a single work of art, but materials that failed in the making were nothing more than trash. Trash from which you salvaged whatever you still could.
"Khan."
"Ah. I’m coming out."
At the voice outside I rose from my seat. The sorting was done; it was time to act.
When I stepped out of the tent, the keshik who had called me bowed his head. Behind him, warriors on horseback covered the entire camp.
"Is everyone here?"
At those words the warriors at the front dismounted and dropped to one knee.
"Solrgo Urema of the Chawjid tribe answers the Khan’s call with one thousand three hundred warriors!"
"Gadan Tabudai of the Kiulaya tribe answers the Khan’s call with eight hundred warriors!"
"Hetza Mungke of the Sogul tribe answers the Khan’s call with seven hundred warriors!"
"Mandava Tevaka of the Toorir tribe answers the Khan’s call with one thousand warriors!"
Nearly ten more chieftains after them bowed their heads and cried out. Men who had endured three long years for this day, for the battle against the Empire, raised their voices beneath the open sky.
"Hakalan Dashan awaits the Khan’s command with five thousand keshik."
I nodded at the final report and stepped forward.
A force of over ten thousand. Compared to the days when we had raced across the steppes under Him, or even to the numbers I had scraped together by force, it was a meager figure—yet every man here was united in a single purpose.
"I will not waste words."
I drew the sword at my waist and raised it toward the warriors who had gathered because they believed in me, toward the sky that watched over us.
"I, Gaar Udesr Dorgon, will stand at your head. Until our breath stops and the god reclaims our lives, I will ride at the front of you all."
Yes—long speeches were unnecessary. Spelling everything out in this place would only look ungraceful. Dragging things out before men who had already steeled themselves for everything was an insult to that resolve.
"We ride. To show those southern serfs the roar of the North."
As one, the warriors drew their blades. The shamans lifted their staffs in place of swords.
"Dorgon! Dorgon! Dorgon!"
The thunderous cry rolled across the camp.
These bastards, right to the end, still couldn’t get the word “Khan” to stick in their mouths.
Idiots.
Truth be told, I was the same.