Night of the Forsaken City
By Jadon W. M. Smith
The sun was setting over the lands of Veskovia, and from her tower in the West, Court Mage Miruna Jovanovi looked upon the smoldering ruins of her beloved city--Talczelava. Although Miruna herself was safe from the horrors within, Miruna’s ears were not spared the faint cries of her fellow people who weren’t as lucky as she. She could only see the dim orange glow of fires and the plumes of smoke generated by them, but her mind replayed the scenes of terror she had been inundated with over and over again.
Miruna had been the royal arcane advisor to the Veskovian royal family for 3 years now, a position that addressed any concerns of a magical nature. Her garb, although a bit torn and stained, reflected her status. She bore an elegant gown of violet, embroidered with Veskovia’s crest. Around her neck, a golden amulet of elongated hexagonal shape, featuring three claw-like fingers made of ruby.
“Miruna,” a deep voice called out, interrupting her thoughts. She turned to face the source of the voice, although she could already tell who the owner was.
Behind her, standing at the top of the stairs of the tower was a tall, broad-shouldered Endalan man enrobed in a fine cloak of midnight velvet and gold embroidery. Around his neck an iron amulet of identical design to Miruna’s, although his was significantly less fanciful. In his gloved hand he held a dark brown staff inlaid with silver, gold, and various jewels. He lowered his hood to reveal a wizened, dark-skinned face, and his voluptuous afro began to sway with the bitter cold wind that was blowing. Behind him were several armour-clad knights bearing purple tabards with the crest of Veskovia upon them.
“Director Solren!” Miruna gasped before curtseying.
"Advisor Jovanovi,” the man replied, “good to see you again. A shame that we come face to face under such circumstances.”
“Yes,” Miruna nodded solemnly, “it’s terrible. I presume you’ve met Lord Polyak?”
One of the knights standing behind the tall Endalan stepped forward. “Indeed. Me and my highest ranking men met with Director Mosso Solren when he first arrived via teleportation.”
“It’s like a waking nightmare,” Mosso spoke as he stepped forward to gaze out upon the city. He stood next to Miruna, his massive frame causing her already petite frame to shrink even more so. “This really is a worst-case scenario. Unbelievable. Up until this point we’ve never had an incident of this magnitude.”
“Yes sir,” Miruna concurred. “The dangers of somatomancy just went from theoretical to reality.”
“We need to contain this. We only have a short time. Manikinism and the spawning of carnites will only exponentially increase over these next few weeks. What measures are in place so far?”
“There are knights posted at every gate to the capital. As soon as I realized what was going on, I sent out mages with orders that no survivors were to be allowed to leave.”
“Excellent work. Can’t risk this spreading farther than it already has. What do you plan to do with the soldiers and dispatched mages?”
“They’ll be forced to stay within the confines of whatever barrier we end up establishing. They’re burning all the bodies they can find, but the risk of contamination is still too high to let them free.”
Lord Polyak stomped forward towards the two mages. “What!? You can’t be serious! Half of our forces were already lost in the city- you’re saying the rest that are intact won’t be able to be redeployed across the kingdom?!”
“That’s correct, Lord Polyak,” Mosso spoke coldly as he turned to face him. “You wouldn’t want to put the rest of Veskovia--and Legere--at risk, would you? It is the Bureau of Classified Arcana’s responsibility to prevent things like this from getting worse.”
“Th-this is preposterous! Surely you have magic that can cure the infected!”
“No. We wish we did. So we must take other measures.” Mosso turned away from the knight to gaze once more upon Talczelava. The mighty capital of a noble nation, overrun by monsters in a matter of hours. “What else do we know about the city, Jovanovi?”
Miruna nervously fidgeted with her fingers. “We don’t know where the royal family is. I attempted to assist them in evacuating the palace, but we ended up getting separated. The outbreak seems to have originated near the ports. I’m sure how many, if any managed to escape.”
“The Lance of Godemir was lost,” Lord Polyak spoke up. “It’s the Veskovian navy’s finest battleship. By the time the orders to evacuate were given, it was too late- soldiers and civilians that had boarded the ship were slain by some of those horrific monsters that managed to sneak on board. The ship is lying dead in the bay, still anchored.”
“I will have boats from Icthy’s Rest make their way with haste, but they won’t arrive until at least a couple of months,” Mosso replied as he stroked his chin. “We have men trained for an arcane catastrophe of this magnitude, but we’ve never had to act upon such an event. I plan to stock the ships with building supplies and manpower - the best course of action is to erect a wall. If we can encircle Talczelava with a strong enough wall and then monitor the bay with our own ships, we should be able to maintain sufficient, long-lasting containment of the city while not wasting too much manpower and other resources. But until this wall is finished, we’re going to need all hands on deck.”
“What happens to the rest of Veskovia?” Lord Polyak stomped his feet again. “Our royal family is missing, who issues our commands now? Our navy is destroyed, half our men lost to this catastrophe, and the Legion of Thunder is on our doorstep.”
“I’m afraid that isn’t a concern of the Bureau,” Mosso uttered dismissively. “You and your men will have to cover that. The Arcane Hand cannot get involved with geopolitical disputes unless the freedom of casters is jeparodized. We wish you luck though.”
Lord Polyak huffed and whispered a long string of insults under his breath before storming down the stairs, his knights in tow. It wasn’t long until Mosso Solren and Miruna Jovanovi were the only ones at the top of the tower.
“Was this the work of the Priests?” Mosso asked.
“I’m… I’m unsure, sir.” Miruna continued to anxiously fidget with her fingers. “I mean, there were known members of the Priests in the city, but they had a small following. Of course, it doesn’t take much for them to cause a screw-up of this magnitude.”
Mosso sighed and tapped his staff on the ground a couple of times. “Damn it. We’ll probably never know now. Not that it’s important. The biggest issue is that… Well, the growth of sculptoris within the city is inevitable at this point. Once word gets out, Priests from across Legere will be making pilgrimages here in hopes of acquiring that tainted flesh easier. It’s a hell of a lot easier to reach Talczelava compared to the Festerplains. I’m getting as many terramancers as I can to accelerate the construction of this wall. Doesn’t have to be pretty- just functional.” Mosso laid his hand on Miruna’s shoulder. “Get some rest, Jovanovi. You did the best you can, and I’ll need you in the coming days.”
“It’s just…” Miruna stammered a bit. “I’m… Talczelava is my home, Director Solren. I was raised here. I have friends here, family even. How long will it be until it’s cured of this plague?”
Mosso shook his head. “That’s the thing, Jovanovi. It won’t be. I understand that there may still be survivors within the city still, and for that reason I have refrained from issuing the order to level the place. But Talczelava as we know it is lost. It’s nothing but a forsaken city now.”
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