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Chapter 258: The Doom's Advance
🕑 Added 2025-04-09 11:41:20 +0000 UTCAs the Golden Company deliberated on how to handle the plague, a group was slowly approaching their encampment from about a league to the south.
The composition of this group was rather unusual. Judging by their attire, most were not warriors but farmers, healers, and slaves. In the center of the procession were hundreds of oxcarts, all laden with various medicinal herbs. Leading the group were several priests and monks in religious robes, yet the emblems on their garments and the holy symbols on their banners did not belong to any of the faiths currently prevalent in the Free Cities.
At that moment, a rider in warrior’s attire approached from the direction of the Golden Company. He dismounted before the leading priest, bowed, and quickly reported, “Lord Mafas, the Golden Company has spotted us and is assembling their forces at the camp.”
The leader of this procession was Mafas Pansien, the current High Priest of the God of Calamity. He was originally supposed to be assisting with the construction of the God of Calamity’s temple in Miracle Harbor. However, upon hearing of the plague outbreak in the Disputed Lands, he saw an opportunity to spread his faith and immediately reported his idea to Lynd.
Lynd quickly approved his plan and provided him with full support, not only supplying ample medicine and provisions but also assigning him several thousand followers. Among them were healers he had personally trained to combat plagues, along with a supply of artemisinin, a potent remedy produced in the Black Cave.
To maximize their impact, Mafas split his forces into three groups upon arriving in the Disputed Lands. Two teams, led by priests, were sent to the military encampments in Lys and Tyrosh, while he personally led the third to the Myrish camp.
“Halt!” Mafas commanded loudly, and the order rippled through the ranks, bringing the procession to a slow stop.
Turning to the priests beside him, he ordered, “Perform the sacred rites. May the God of Calamity bless them and shield them from the plague.”
At his command, the accompanying priests raised the sacred banners of the God of Calamity, lit the censers at their waists, and held them in their hands. Their attendants took out the blessed sacramental bread, placing small pieces onto plates, and moved through the crowd while reciting prayers aloud.
The faithful ceased their activities, murmuring the prayers alongside the priests, then each took a small piece of the medicinally infused bread from the attendants and ate it.
Meanwhile, Mafas, accompanied by a few others, mounted their horses and rode toward the Golden Company’s encampment. Before long, they reached the gathering mercenaries and came face-to-face with Myles Toyne, the commander of the Golden Company.
Mafas signaled his men to halt, then rode forward alone to greet Myles Toyne. Bowing slightly, he said, “It has been a long time, Commander Toyne.”
Mafas’s decision to approach the Golden Company was no coincidence. As the second son of his family, he had spent time traveling abroad and had once served as a mercenary in the Golden Company himself. Later, when Qohor hired the Golden Company, he had acted as a liaison officer, maintaining strong ties with them.
“Lord Mafas?” Myles Toyne quickly recognized him.
The other officers of the Golden Company soon identified him as well and relaxed slightly.
“Lord Mafas, you…?” Myles Toyne hesitated, glancing at Mafas’s attire.
“I am now the High Priest of the God of Calamity,” Mafas promptly explained, then got straight to the point. “I have come here at the call of my Lord to combat this plague. The people behind me include healers and followers who will tend to those infected. Additionally, I have brought sufficient medicine—enough to save everyone.”
The gathered mercenaries were momentarily stunned. Most of them had never heard of the God of Calamity, and only a few who kept up with political shifts in the Free Cities were aware of this emerging faith.
“You were sent by Lord Lynd?” Myles Toyne asked gravely.
Mafas nodded. “It was my Lord’s calling. The Prophet also approved my request. Most of the healers and medicine in my convoy were arranged by him.”
For a moment, Myles Toyne was at a loss for words. He decided that the front of the camp was not the best place for this discussion, so he invited Mafas inside. At the same time, he gestured to his subordinates to inspect Mafas’s convoy and verify whether it truly consisted of healers and followers, as he claimed.
...
Meanwhile, similar encounters were unfolding outside the military camps in Lys and Tyrosh. The priests sent by Mafas were facing nearly identical situations. Each of them had previously spent time with mercenary companies—the Windblown and the Company of the Cat—building good relationships with the sellswords.
While the three Free Cities avoided the plague-ridden mercenary bands and the Unsullied, the priests and followers of the God of Calamity’s temple in Summerhall ventured into the Disputed Lands, bringing with them a vast number of healers and a wealth of medicine to treat the afflicted.
No one could say for certain whether the God of Calamity had truly blessed the Disputed Lands and purged the plague. However, what was undeniable was that after the faith arrived, the plague ceased spreading. With the tireless efforts of the priests and healers, many who had been on the brink of death were saved.
In the span of just a month and a half, a plague that had once instilled fear across the Free Cities had been quelled.
Before the Temple of the God of Calamity entered the Disputed Lands, hundreds of people were dying from the plague each day, and even more were becoming infected. However, after the arrival of the God of Calamity’s followers, daily deaths dwindled to just one or two, and new infections dropped to only a handful. Within half a month, there were no new cases at all.
People attributed this miraculous change to the divine power of the God of Calamity rather than the medicine itself. They had seen firsthand that the remedies used by the priests and followers of the God of Calamity were the same as those previously supplied by the three major Free Cities—medicines that had failed to make any difference before. Yet, in the hands of these priests and believers, the very same treatments suddenly worked wonders. The only explanation, in their eyes, was the blessing of the God of Calamity.
Those who had been saved from the brink of death, gripped by the terror of their near demise, became devout followers of the God of Calamity. Furthermore, as none of the faithful had contracted the plague, many began to believe that devotion to the God of Calamity offered protection from the disease. This belief rapidly spread, drawing more and more converts to the faith.
By the time the plague had ended, nearly everyone in the Disputed Lands—whether Unsullied, mercenaries, plague survivors, or even those who had never fallen ill—had become fervent followers of the God of Calamity. Encouraged by the Company of the Cat, they began discussing plans to seize control of the gem mine and its surrounding lands, with the intent of building a holy city dedicated to their deity.
Neither the Windblown nor the Golden Company publicly took a stance on the proposal, but their withdrawal from the gem mine was a clear indication that they would not interfere.
When news of this reached the three major Free Cities, their ruling elites were naturally unwilling to accept it. However, despite their objections, they were powerless to stop it.
Although the plague had claimed many lives, a significant number of survivors remained, and these were all battle-hardened warriors. The Windblown and the Golden Company had already made it clear that they would not accept any contracts to suppress the so-called rebellion of the Company of the Cat and the Unsullied.
With the current state of their garrisons, the three Free Cities struggled to defend themselves, let alone mount an offensive. In the end, they had no choice but to tacitly accept the occupation of the gem mine and the surrounding area.
...
Yet before the upheaval in the Disputed Lands had fully settled, Volantis, having long prepared for this moment, seized the opportunity to strike.
It took less than four days from the moment Volantene ships were spotted near the waters of Lys to the city's complete encirclement and surrender.
However, even Volantis’s swift action was outpaced by Lynd. When news of Lys’s surrender reached Tyrosh, the city’s leaders did not consider sending aid. Instead, they convened a council meeting, where they swiftly passed a resolution to pledge allegiance to Lord Lynd of Summerhall.
As the decree was announced throughout the city, there were minor disturbances, but these were quickly suppressed by magistrates who had already sworn loyalty to Lynd in advance. In less than half a day, Tyrosh was firmly under Lynd’s control. The reigning Archon of Tyrosh, upon hearing the news from his subordinates, suffered a heart attack and died.
With Tyrosh secured, the Miracle Fleet that Lynd had dispatched in advance sailed into the Sea of Myr and anchored just off Myr’s harbor. The Sea Dragon Cannibal prowled the waters near the docks.
Myr responded immediately by sealing off the harbor, barring the Miracle Fleet from docking. Both sides erected defensive walls along the streets and around key buildings, bracing for potential conflict.
Meanwhile, the army of the God of Calamity’s followers, originally meant to construct their holy city in the Disputed Lands, arrived outside Myr under the leadership of High Priest Mafas. Their ranks included fully equipped siege engines. At this point, the Windblown and the Golden Company had already withdrawn from the Disputed Lands, making their way to Volantis to recuperate.
Myr’s situation was dire. The city had no more than 3,000 available fighters, and over half of them were mercenaries hastily recruited for temporary service. Among these, the notorious Second Sons held the greatest influence.
...
That very night, as the army of the God of Calamity’s followers encamped outside Myr, Magister Eamond, who had been gathering forces and preparing the fleet at the docks, held a secret meeting with two individuals: Fenya, the newly appointed Merchant Prince, and Loraq, a Praetor and close associate of Magister Gaemon Belaerys.
If any Myrmen had witnessed this meeting, they would have been utterly shocked. Fenya, who had risen to power as a high-ranking member of the Miracle Merchant Guild, had long been at odds with Gaemon Belaerys’s faction, and Loraq was firmly within that camp. The hostility between them was well known.
Their enmity stemmed from an earlier incident in which Gaemon had nearly ruined Fenya’s reputation, seemingly using her as a pawn to strike at his political opponents. That grudge had never faded.
Yet now, here was Fenya, standing side by side with Gaemon’s close confidant Loraq, as if they were allies. It was a sight that would have seemed unthinkable to any outsider.
However, Magister Eamond seemed unfazed by the situation. As soon as he saw the two of them, he got straight to the point.
“Do the conditions we discussed earlier still stand?”
“Of course they do,” Loraq replied with a nod. He glanced at the visibly uneasy Magister Eamond and added, “Lord Eamond, you have no reason to worry about Lord Lynd breaking his word. Just look at Magister Fenya—she is the best proof of his commitment.”
Fenya, now fully aware of Ornstein’s true identity, chimed in, “Lord Eamond, I trust you’ve already read the message I sent you. You should know exactly where you stand in their eyes. Do you really think you have a way out?
“If you lose this battle to the Miracle Fleet, Myr will fall, and you’ll be stripped of your title as Magister. But if, by some miracle, you manage to defeat them, do you think they’ll allow you to remain alive with your growing reputation? Even if you were to renounce everything, they would never let you go. You have only one choice now—cooperate with us.”
Eamond remained silent for a moment, then turned to Loraq with a skeptical expression.
“I can understand why Fenya would align with Summerhall,” he said. “After all, Lynd Tarran saved her, and everything she has now comes from him. But you… Loraq, you were born into Myr’s ruling class. You became a Tribune the moment you came of age, and later, a Magister. I still remember your speech in Garden Square—people say no one loves Myr more than you. By all accounts, you should be the last person to betray Myr and side with Lynd Tarran.
“So why are you doing this?”
“Betrayal?” Loraq let out a quiet laugh. “Why do you assume I am betraying Myr?”
Eamond frowned. “Isn’t this betrayal?”
“Of course not. I am saving Myr.” Loraq’s tone was firm. “The city is rotting from the inside. It is beyond saving. Everyone is locked in an endless struggle for power, bleeding the city dry with infighting. Those who actually try to govern are undermined, framed, and cast out, while sycophants rise effortlessly. Smiles to your face, knives in your back—that’s how Myr’s politics work now. That is not how a city should function. It’s unnatural. It must change.”
Eamond narrowed his eyes. “And you believe Lynd Tarran can change Myr?”
Loraq shook his head. “No. Lord Lynd has no interest in reforming Myr. All he cares about is keeping it under his control, even if that means ruling over ruins.”
Eamond’s confusion deepened. “Then why are you siding with him?”
A slow smile spread across Loraq’s face. “Because I can change Myr—and Lord Lynd is willing to let me.”
As soon as he finished speaking, Fenya gestured to the three of them in the room. “In the future, Myr will no longer have a Magister’s Council. There will only be a triumvirate—and we three will be the first to rule.”
Eamond considered her words carefully. After a long moment, he gave a small nod.
“I will follow Lord Lynd’s orders.”
Hearing his response, Loraq and Fenya exchanged a glance and smiled.
