V7: Chapter 5 (Patreon)

V7: Chapter 5

…

The army advanced, we killed shit, and money was spent in eye-watering amounts.

Running a military campaign balloons costs of running a nation exponentially.

The average soldier in my army gets the equivalent of ten dollars in pay. A coin is minted out of steel and backed by law. I say it’s the currency, so it’s the currency, and people exchange goods and services with it and use the banking system with the money. I can go at length about finances and how I’ve got a whole lot of smart people handling it, and I’m carefully making sure nothing stupid happens, but we’ll just go with the fact that the average soldier gets ten dollars a day fighting for me.

Seems like it’s too little for someone fighting daily, right?

Wrong, it’s too much.

Atop that ten dollars a day, that soldier is provided with a uniform, weapons, supplies, and other equipment. Munitions need to be resupplied, spares broken out of storage, medical supplies used, and other services provided. I’ve got a whole logistics train set up full of logistical support troops and specialists like medics, people whose sole duty is to evaluate soldiers and see if they’re still fit for combat, and military police to keep everyone in line.  Those people get paid far less than those in combat roles, about half, but that’s still around five thousand people.

Without supplies and equipment and assets taken into account, that five thousand people paid five dollars a day and ten thousand paid ten dollars a day, which roughly equates to 125,000 dollars a day in wages alone. With one turn equating to four months, or 120 days, that’s 15 million just in wages. I’d say about a million and a quarter per month for food and resupply, so a cool 20 million in total for wages and support. Equipment, meanwhile, ranges from pikes and rifles and bags of supplies all the way to flying horses and steel armor, along with munitions ranging from rifle rounds to incendiary bomblets dropped from the air.  Every soldier costs on average five thousand to fully equip and arm with all our industrial and economic advantages in play, meaning that the army itself cost 50 million in order to field.

That’s one army on one front, when I have another holding the line on the other side, and I’m funding expeditions into the lands beyond to find more Ancient Wonders to deploy. In short, war is fucking expensive, and if I was funding it myself, I’d be broke within four months even though I’ve literally got a Merchant Champion specifically built to making money exploiting an entire region.

Thankfully, I succeeded in getting the Merchants to pay up the daily cost of running my armies fighting the Death Lord.

Sure, I could’ve reduced the pay of my soldiers by half instead… but I have standards.

They’re out there fighting against monsters and undead with bolt action rifles and pikes with barely any air support.

I’m an evil bastard and I’m responsible for and will be responsible for a lot of horrible things.

But if there’s something I’ll never do… it’s not pay my own soldiers.

That’s a one way trip to being deposed, especially if you’re on the field with them.

…

Erlan’s arms were crossed, his brow furrowed behind his vaguely-viking-like helmet, and hands were clenched in fists.

I sighed.

“I told you that fighting a Conqueror in chess was a bad idea.”

“I had underestimated their ability. I will not do so again.” Chess, checkers, and other games were pretty common in this world, but with the advent of industrial manufacturing, I decided to take the market. Sarala took over after the initial boom, and now we were making a tidy profit selling off board games. Anyway, it was evening, and the army was settling in for the night, so he accompanied me on my rounds. My troops were used to me enough that my visits in the evening didn’t stress them. Or, at least, I hoped that they weren’t. “They spoke of a ranking system and competitive games?”

The best way to keep a game going was to give it a competitive scene and a community, so I’d laid the groundwork out for chess clubs in towns, regional matches, and a national match. People had fun at their local spot, competed with other towns, and the best of the best fought against one another at the capital. I had venues for feasts and the like, which sufficed as places to hold tournaments. Didn’t know how MMR worked, so rankings were mostly a count of wins, losses, and draws. It worked well enough to sell product and bring in tourism every now and again, so I considered it a win.

“Yeah, towns have their best, compete with each other, and the best of a region competes to be crowned champion in the capital once a year.” I explained it simply and Erlan nodded contemplatively. “I don’t have the time to play myself, but I know enough to watch. The Conquerors mostly play for fun. The actual competition is dominated by Children of the Elm… they get into the whole thing.”

They’re fucking toxic, constantly complain about meta, always use cheap shit, and annoyingly actually play really well.

Honestly, I was considering sending in some Iterants, so that they get turned into the heels of the game… but I stayed my hand.

It’ll be better if some real champion rose up from the ranks and just smeared their faces in the mud all naturally.

Then, I’ll deploy the living computers to finish the job.

What was I talking about again?

Right.

Turning Erlan and his troops into traitors.

“So… interested in setting up a town and winning the finals to show everyone the what-for in chess? The annual Champion gets a significant prize.” The path is narrow. Every choice needs to be carefully weighed. A wrong word and statement put me back several steps. But the path is there. The Forgers made it for me, and I just needed to walk to carefully. “I’d say within a year or two you’ll be a competitor. You’ll have the time.”

Erlan glanced my way, probably to talk back against them latest reminder that life in my nation was way better, when the shrill whine of alarms resounded across the camps.

I checked the nearest sundial and Erlan’s gaze followed.

“…Your prediction was correct once again.”

“The Death Lord is a poor opponent.” Death Lords are little more than territory denial weapons. You plop them down enemy territory and they raise Undead and gather monsters to kill your opponents. They’re a waste of resources, just there to produce XP fodder for your enemies, in a game where Champions and veterancy of armies are key to endgame. I’d rather not give my enemies more combat experience, thank you. “He attacks like clockwork. He sends forces at basic combinations in same numbers. Once again, this will be dealt with by the reaction force.”

In order to distribute experience points properly, I had backline reserve forces cycle to the front, and also created hybrid units of veterans, frontliners and reserves. They all followed the same training and doctrine, and their officers were veterans and trained to keep the units cohesive.  The combined units made up quick reaction forces and went out to meet the enemy, so that the whole army wasn’t made tired by just a thousand or so enemies. It’s always best to conserve resources whenever possible, and there’s few better ways to do that than just… not using a whole army to tell a raiding force to fuck off.

What’s that?

The enemy thinks they’ve sent an army our way that we’ll have to fully mobile for?

Well, my QRF has air support, and I’ve seeded the whole path forward with Conqueror Commando teams.

So, they’re wrong.

I’m not wasting the supplies of an entire army for a few units. Learned to not do that years ago the first run around. Detach the appropriate force, send them out, and absorb them back into the main force when they’re done.  Save money, save supplies, and save time.

“C’mon, we can follow this time.” My guards glared at me, but Erlan nodded. We made our way to a transport that I’d requisitioned yesterday, knowing that this was going to happen again today. The driver and the mages on the carriage to be pulled through the air with flying horses and magic were wide eyed in my presence. They bowed, but I bid them to raise their heads. “None of that today, gentlemen. We’re on a tight schedule. Take us up, so that we can impress the general.”

They moved quickly at my words, and my guards followed me and Erlan into the wagon, where we both sat across one another on the left side.

We were off and in the air within a few minutes.

Giving me and Erlan the bird’s eye view I’d longed for.

Was it dangerous?

Yeah, but I’ve got air superiority, so a few minutes should be fine, and I wanted to impress the general.

The risk was worth it.

…

Interlude: Riegert

…

“So, are things beyond the Ancient’s defenses as bad as they say, Captain?” Gunther put down a mug of chilled beer. The barrels kept in the cellar of the inn were packed full of ice. One of the few good things living in the land of the Scholars was the perpetual access to chilled spirits and frozen fruits. It was far better than the jungle lands inhabited by the Masters of the Skies. “You all came back whole and hale.”

I took a long drink and out of instinct, I looked around.

The tavern and inn of the town where I met Gunther was the outermost of the region. It existed solely to provide for the troops manning the new, fortified outposts dotting the mountain passes. No larger than five hundred people, it would be nothing more than a place for the Masters of the Skies to pluck meat from, should they come in force through the mountain pass.

Gunther could be trusted to keep his mouth shut, though.

“We only returned as we did because we crawled for days at a time. We spent our months out there hidden, inching through their lands, and once we found what we needed to find we left.” We had secondary objectives. Gather information on population composition, find and observe a military action, and locate their nearest city. All things that Khanrow managed to do in his investigation of the Demons. We were only able to find the treasure that Jack wanted us to find. “Those that live in those jungles are monsters who use mortals as food, Gunther. They take males for breeding, eat them after copulation, and use females to produce meals. They eat their prey alive.”

Gunther shuddered at my words, his eyes widening in horror, while I grimaced at the memories.

Men screaming as their limbs were torn off to make easier prey, their last moment producing monsters, before being killed.

Women sewn up and strapped to pillars and force fed and cursed unspeakably, so that they can produce food.

Children being speared and eaten raw by gleeful monsters.

Monsters that hunted their own kind, who viewed kindness as weakness, and who long ago slaughtered away any humanity they had left.

“Everything in that green hell must burn. Everything. The mortals there would see it as a mercy.” I grunted and took a long, measured draught. The beer was strong and bitter and cold. The scent of hops and grains filled my nose. I remembered better times and they stymied the horrors that still lingered in the back of my mind. “But the Ancients knew that. That’s why they left behind what they did, and made sure that it could be of use.”

“I don’t even know what was found in the land of the Demons. Can you really say things about what you found, Captain?” Gunther looked around with worry. I had to chuckle. Before our meeting I read of his movements since we last met. The Iterants were hard at work recording the goings on of every individual. Gunter may not live near the Citadel, but his work as a captain of one of the outposts made it necessary to watch him. I knew that he was honorable and true. “Maybe, we should talk at the barracks, instead?”

There were no merchants in the inn, or people from out of town, but he was correct.

Word can travel fast, and just knowing we found something else from the Ancients was enough for those keeping an ear to the ground.

“You’re right. Let’s move this all to the barracks. This feels all too comfortable, anyway.” I grunted, paid, and left with Gunther with two large baskets filled with bottles and food. He carried two more baskets himself. The men deserved a bit of a treat, though from what I heard many of them were already treating themselves, but without causing any trouble. Good lads. “Need some help with that, old man?”

“Bah. Not everyone can be a Champion, you old bastard.” I chuckled as Gunther grumbled. I was older than him, but the years were worse for those who have inherited less of the Ancient’s power. Once, only death by violence or disease was possible amongst all our kind. The machines and techniques that enabled it were long forgotten. Now, only those gifted with the right traits or those blessed with strong magic had such natural longevity. I remembered meeting Gunther as a young man with a full head of hair, a strong sword arm, and a wrinkle-less face. At least, he still had his strength and talent with the sword. Our walk was short, and we reached the barracks quickly. “So, are you sure you can share what you found with an outpost captain like me?”

“I need to. Unlike the first, this one will take months to move and you and your people will see it happen. It’s a Seed Vault. Every crop the Ancients had? We now have.”

“I thought that the Citadels had them all already.”

“No, they had the staples and the basics. There’s only so much that they can remember.” Despite all my nightmares and hate for the creatures in the green hell, the facility we found brought a smile to my face. An underground facility in the middle of a lake, the vault was maintained by old constructs, which recognized our heritage and led us to the chambers they tended. Inside the facility it had been as cold as winter, and the walls were lined with innumerable seedlings. Tens of thousands of crops, along with instructions on their germination and spread. “This seed vault may very well be our salvation.”

“…How, captain, if you don’t mind me asking? I don’t see how some ancient crops can save us.”

At that I felt a grim smile form on my face, as Jack’s instructions came to mind should I find the vault.

Ignore the seedlings, find the fragment.

In the depths of the Seed Vault, I found the beating heart of a god, as the King of Wisdom foretold and soon it shall be roused from its slumber.

When it is… nature itself shall save us.