Vaid Empire: Conquest

Vaid Empire: Conquestis a massive fantasy series that aims to mixeroticawith the quality of a published novel. New chapters and artwork are released every month for free, with the completely optional possibility to receive early access on the official Vaid Empire Website. The Series focuses heavily on worldbuilding, story, and characters.

The world of Ayphieal is shattered and chaotic, with kingdoms and tribes of six distinctive races vying for territory amongst themselves. It is only when a young human warrior finally pushes back against the chaos that the world begins to shift towards order.

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31st of Thriduin, 20 AVE.

The Deep Mountains.

The wind howled outside the fabric walls of Clin's tent as he sat at his desk, looming over three message cylinders. With the legion stuck behind the fallen rocks blocking their path, he had cruelly been left with little distraction to keep him from the writings that now demanded his attention.

Alone, save for Cliax napping on the other side of the vast tent to pass the time, he reluctantly read the first cylinder for the third time, drinking in the words like poison. A report from the regency council, sealed by Lord Kixanil, it condensed a collection of reports from across The Empire. Unrest had naturally followed the draining of warriors from every city, for those with rebellion in their hearts evidently saw the weakening presence of The Empire as their chance to fight back.

The God Emperor had known what would follow their departure, of course. Truthseekers placed in every major city did much to cut down rebellions from the inside before they led to catastrophe, though still embers of resistance remained.

It wasn't the possibility of an uprising that disturbed Clin to his core. They had grown much too strong to be toppled by the common population, and their work to divide and reorganize populations had carried out its intended effect. No, he worried not for the sharpness of a citizen's raised blade, but that it had been raised at all.

Domani, Omrin, Luxi, deep in the heartlands of The Empire, were where the roots of their ideals had grown the deepest. Their populations thrived as struggling settlements had blossomed into bustling and wealthy cities.Therewas proof of their efforts, Clin often told himself, often hoped. He could walk around The Capital and breathe a little easier, knowing his deeds hadsomepositive outcome for others, yet what of the rest?

The report before him was proof of the other side of the coin of conquest. Populations crushed beneath the legion cried out a final time against their tyranny.

"Tyranny," Clin whispered in the lonely vastness of his tent, hearing the soft breathing of his son far away. He ran a hand through his own hair, finding more grey than blond. Was this the outcome of his life? People willing to risk meeting their death at the hands of his men for a chance at freedom? Was rebellion the outcome of a good man's deeds?

Even as his one-suit offered insulation from the cold, he pulled his cloak tighter around him.

The northern kingdoms were by far the most rebellious, for they had been the latest to be conquered. They hadn't asked to be brought down. They hadn't asked for their kings to be slaughtered, nor their armies shattered. Their cultures, their traditions, their languages, all were being stripped away in the hopes of being made into one, for a united population had far fewer reasons to slaughter each other. Noble hopes, yet was it his right to force an unwilling population?

A good man must always question his actions to ensure his deeds remain correct. As he looked at the report, his questions felt like daggers carving his heart.

Hardly was the next cylinder easier to bear.

"Cilith, the nights are growing colder, though still I march. Few humans have dared to battle these mountains, and our folly is made clearer with every passing day as the snow falls heavier. I take comfort knowing you are in a warmer place, wherever that may be. One day, when you're older, it is my hope that you'll seek me out, for there are few greater pains for a father than knowing his child is out there, a stranger beyond his-"

The message sat unfinished, just as it had for hours. Once more he read it, finding his hand frozen like the landscape outside.

"Father?" he muttered under his breath, rubbing a thumb over the etched word. Never had he met the girl. She was his daughter by blood, yet did that give him the right to claim such a title?

Of all his doubts, of all his worries, the third cylinder was the greatest of the swords hanging over his head. He hadn't dared to look at what he had written for days, yet now the words sat before him.

"Cendra, my love, I have proven myself unworthy. Though I risk undoing all these years we've spent together, and shattering the family we've built, I can no longer endure my guilt. I must confess my betrayal. I lay my sins at your feet and hope for your forgiveness, though such is a mercy I do not deserve. Despite the vast freedom our bond of love has permitted us both, I have broken your only request of me. I have sired a child with another woman, and in doing so I have cast your trust into the mud. Long have I desired to confess my deed, though in my cowardice I-"

Reading the etched words turned his stomach, nearly as great a pain as when he had first written them. Such a confession risked all he had gained.

The candle at the corner of his desk battled the faint sunlight trickling in from the slight parting of the entrance flap. He watched the flame sway, thinking of Cendra's fire.

After their reunion, and after hurting her with a rejection she couldn't possibly understand, he could endure his guilt no longer. She had to know the truth, else it would burn within him until nothing remained but ash.

A good man would face his deeds in person and confess the truth even when he risked losing the only woman he had ever loved. The message lingered before him, unfinished, taunting Clin with all he was not.

His words made no mention of Vixin, of course. Cendra would undoubtedly learn of her sister's part in his betrayal the moment she focused on sensing the existence of his bastard, though he would not allow another to share the weight of his actions.

Still, he could lie to himself and claim his hesitation was for Vixin's sake. He could tell himself that he didn't want to undo the sisters' newfound peace. In truth, the prospect of confessing while facing the silver eyes he had fallen in love with proved to be too great of a mountain to endure. He had fought countless battles, meeting death with his blade, yet Cendra's pain was a foe he would not survive.

Burying his face in his hands, he uttered an exhausted sigh. There was no way forward. All he had believed himself to be threatened to tumble down into oblivion. The people cried out against his life's work when he had only hoped to save them. His only daughter was beyond his reach, a stranger he had never seen. His guilt strangled him, yet its confession would be the end of all he cared for.

Trapped, frozen with indecision, Clin feltold.

Movement across the room drew his attention. As the young prince awoke from his nap, Clin quickly swept the etched messages back into their cylinders and secured them each tightly.

Rubbing the sleep from his silver eyes, Cliax crawled from his small bed and stumbled along towards the desk. He saw the sunlight peeking through the entrance with every flutter of wind against the fabric walls. "Morning, father?"

"The same day. It's been less than an hour." Clin pulled the disoriented boy into a tight embrace. "Can't sleep?"

The boy shook his head with a frown of disappointment. "I had a feeling. Something bad." Though he clearly required a longer nap after their relentless march, the boy had only to look up at his father to see the truth upon his face. "Are you sad?"

Deception tasted like poison upon his tongue, and he had experienced far more than he cared for lately. Instead, he offered the truth with a nod, knowing the boy could likely sense his turmoil either way. "Do not worry for me. This life has merely been long, and yours has only just begun."

His worry remained, and Cliax climbed onto his lap. With his blond hair flowing down his back, Cendra's golden prince touched the nearest cylinder. "Are these what worry you, father?"

Clin was quick to snatch it away. An apologetic expression followed a sigh. "They are merely the measure of a man. For all the good I sought to forge, I find that I am still only...human. Flawed."

It was clear the boy didn't understand. How could he?

With his son upon his knee, he forced the prince to turn and meet his gaze of sorrow. "I have long believed that a single good man with good intentions in the right place can change the world for the better. Now, I've come to see that I may not be that man."

Cliax shook his head. His father was a hero. "You made The Empire a better place."

"The Empire," Clin repeated with a bitter chuckle. "Now you sound like your grandfather. There is more to this world than The Empire, though I hope you're right." He touched his cheek, thinking of the family of nobles he had secretly spared from The God Emperor's wrath all those years ago in Argin. Still he remembered the kiss of gratitude he had received from one of the daughters as he ushered them to flee into the night. "Perhaps, if a good man cannot save the world, he can save a few. Perhaps all a man must do is step aside when he is asked to commit evil and instead do no harm." He sighed with the weight of decades upon his shoulders. "Is that enough?"

Cliax stared at him, drinking in the words with curious silver eyes, though the boy could offer no response.

He waved his hand. "Ah, these are questions for bitter old men. Don't let them taint your youth." Clin patted his son's back, thinking of his own childhood, standing in the rainforest with his mother dying at his feet. "If nothing else, I hope all I've worked for shall allow you to stand a little easier when you're my age."

Quiet and in thought, the boy was about to reply before the guards outside announced a visitor with a shout through the fabric walls. "The Prince Upholder of Vaidrin, Arinax of House Vaid!"

Hardly did the heir of The God Emperor have to wait to be welcomed like a common visitor, though Arinax didn't dare to enter until Clin called out to permit him inside.

As the somber prince crept into the tent with his hands clasped behind his back, he held no obligation of bowing his head before any other, yet still Arinax offered his father's advisor a nod of deep respect. "High Peacekeeper."

"My prince. What can I do for you?" Clin ushered his son to stand.

Arinax eyed the younger boy. "Is...Cliax available?" The words attempted to sound dignified, though they still held the sound of youthful excitement. He cleared his throat nervously. "It's snowing again."

Cliax looked up at his father eagerly.

Despite all his worries, Clin couldn't help but smile. Though The Prince Upholder was a few short years older, there was no doubt that both boys had taken a liking to each other. They seemed more like brothers than uncle and nephew. "Indeed, he is."

"Thank you, my lord," Arinax said as Cliax was permitted to join his side. They tried to conceal their grins as they moved to depart, only to drop all pretense of stiff dignity and race each other through the entrance, not bothering to close the tent's flap as they rushed into the falling snow.

Clin wandered to the opening, stopping a guard from sealing the flap with a raised hand. He stood in the entrance to watch as the boys gathered snow into balls to hurl at each other with wild laughter, more than he had ever heard from either. He smiled.

Joy was fleeting, for dark indecision once more crept from the shadows of his thoughts to torment him. Even in this desolate place, Cliax was home among his family. Clin watched as Zela found them, joining their battle. He glanced over his shoulder at his message to Cendra.

Outside, legionaries marched about the narrow camp while slaves shuffled through the snow. As Clin had decided to place his tent close to the front of the legion during this stop, desiring to be ready the moment the rubble blocking their way had been cleared, other commanders had followed The High Peacekeeper's lead. He watched as a concubine led a young girl through the camp, presumably the daughter of a Lord seeking to visit her father's tent. When Cliax interrupted the girl's march to politely invite her to join them, Clin couldn't help but sigh with pride.

He watched them play as he lingered in thought. Finally, he turned around as his decision was made.

Retrieving the message cylinder intended for Cendra, Clin held it above the flame of the candle. The wood ignited, and he could almost feel the thought of Cendra's fire as the flames crept up the cylinder towards his fingers.

The message burned to ash as he dropped it to the floor, grinding what remained beneath his boot. A good man would confess the truth. He would, when the time was right, though not now. For his son's sake, and for the family he knew the truth would destroy, he'd endure his guilt a little longer.

Staring down at the ashes, Clin felt as cold as if the icy wind outside wrapped around his bare body, chilling him to his bones.

When he heard the first scream, he snapped back to life.

"Ambush!" a man shouted outside, only to fall within view of the open entrance as an arrow found his neck.

Snatching his sword, Clin rushed outside as slaves scurried in panic and legionaries sought cover. Confusion and terror erupted through the camp in moments as arrows and rocks began to rain down upon them, piercing and crushing tents.

Clin flicked his gaze upward at the cliffs towering over either side of the mountain pass. High atop the right cliff, Arkos men readied their bows. Arrows whistled through falling snow to spill legion blood as men and women rushed to defend themselves.

With the enemy far from his reach, Clin's sword was useless. Instead, his concerns fell solely to the children, pushing through running warriors in an attempt to find his son. His heart nearly burst when he saw the boy's golden hair through the chaotic crowd.

"Father!" Cliax cried out when Clin reached him, snatching his arm.

"Where are the twins?" he demanded. Spotting them an instant later, he pulled his son to Arinax's side, grabbing The Prince Upholder's shoulder. "Arinax! Take them!" He forced the hands of Cliax and Zela into the boy's grasp. "Led them far from here!Now!" When the terrified prince didn't move, Clin shook him. "Can I count on you?"

That seemed to snap him to attention. Arinax dared to nod, finding an unsteady bravery. "Y...yes, High Peacekeeper!"

"Good!Go!" Clin commanded, only to stop him with a realization. "Wait, the girl! Where's the other girl?"

Cliax pointed through the rushing bodies, and his father pushed them to flee.

The girl stood in place, screaming as the concubine that had accompanied her rested limp in the snow with an arrow through her eye. As legionaries used bows of their own to fight back, the crying child was far beneath their notice in the chaos of battle.

An Arkos man high above hurled a small boulder over the edge of the cliff, sending it falling into the camp below. Realizing the girl stood directly in its path, Clin's eyes went wide.

Hardly did he have more than an instant to react. There was no room for thought nor concern for his own survival. He simply leapt forward, prepared to meet his end. He tackled the girl, forcing her out of the way a second before the heavy stone crashed into where she had been standing.

Groaning as he rose from the ground, feeling a throbbing pain from the mostly healed wound upon his chest, Clin helped the girl to her feet. A stranger, she could offer nothing but terror in place of gratitude before he shoved her to flee. "Go!"

An arrow struck down a legionary nearby. Others sent their own up the cliff with ready bows.

Useless to fight back, Clin turned his purpose towards his command. He shouted about the noise, gathering the chaos tearing through the camp into some manner of order.

Ahead, the horrid sound of lightning crackling through the air erupted as The God Emperor arrived to meet their foe. Raising a hand, their ruler unleashed webs of electricity upwards to tear apart the gathered forces above.

Clin watched his wrath, seeing smaller arcs of lightning and fire as his Knights joined the battle. Stones fell upon the camp like snow, crushing legionaries and slaves alike.

Many had suffered the long journey thus far, only to be killed. The legion met every death with one in return, for their trained bows and white armor stood against the crude men above.

The God Emperor's roar boomed through the mountain pass as his lightning shattered stone and slaughtered their attackers. Arkos men fell from the cliff's edge, charred corpses collapsing down into the camp.

As quickly as they had come, whatever remained of the ambushing tribe scurried away in retreat, leaving dead humans and Arkos alike scattered across the barren landscape.

Surrounded by rubble and blood, Clin helped a wounded legionary to her feet, only to look down at a dead Arkos limp in the snow. Limbs shattered from the fall and purple blood pooling at Clin's feet, he couldn't help but think of the message cylinder containing reports of unrest.

"They hadn't asked to be conquered," Clin thought to himself.

Groans of dying men required his attention, and he locked his doubts away to tend to those under his command.

1st of Fonic, 20 AVE.

Shai Domain, City of Shai.

"Human hands cross the mountains to grasp Arkos sands. I tried to warn you, Kromak."

Varse's words were carried away upon the wind as he stood alone atop The Citadel. Gazing down at The City of Shai, he beheld the fruits of his efforts with a grim frown, for the words of Salik's report continued to whisper through his mind endlessly.

Far below, fellow Dril walked the peaceful streets of their snowy Capital. New buildings rose to touch the horizon as Shai expanded out into the frozen tundra of their homeland. Proper management without the taint of self-interest and corruption had naturally brought prosperity to the people below, though never would it be enough for their Potentate. Varse would serve his citizens until his final breath, even as he peered out in the direction of Ishtai with a longing to retire.

He watched a crowd of Dril gathering near the entrance to The Citadel. Wearing the vivid colors and dyed hair of their Clans, they listened to a scholar addressing any who cared to listen. Though bribed by agents to speak, as had many others that now held such gatherings throughout the cities of The Domain, the old Dril engaged the crowd in a spirited discussion.

"We were granted a land of absolute freedom and a population dedicated to finding rational solutions," Varse recalled his own words from many years ago. He watched the scholar stir the minds of the crowd below, inciting them to engage in civil debates amongst themselves. Step by step, his dream for his people was taking hold.