The Greatest Sin

“It’s getting dark.” Samuel said to Elijah. “And the storm is beginning to move in.”

“We should stay the night here and set off with daybreak.”

Lightning struck overhead.

The woman in black finally started to move.

“Two of the five evacuated locations were raided recently.” Duchess Sara Daganhoff began with her report. “Although the false-flag with masking ourselves as Anarchians worked amongst the majority of the population, anti-Anarchia rallies have started to appear in Southern Karaina. They claim to want justice for the Astangrad Central massacre. The local authorities have declared it a day of national mourning already.” Sara turned the page in her report as Arascus watched her.

The woman had changed greatly from the excited girl who had rescued him. The whole organisation changed in fact, even down to the furniture. The war-room had been adorned with wooden furniture, sometimes, tradition was best, and the table the in middle had been replaced with a larger one. A marvellous display had been installed into it, which could holographically project images into the air.

The people around the table had changed too, grown. The cold bureaucratic suits were the only thing that remained the same, Arascus had grown rather fond of the look, but the people within them were sharper, their eyes keener, their mouths spoke in more direct ways: quick and fast, efficient. It was the backbone of an army.

Duchess Daganhoff continued to read. Her hair tied into a prim ponytail, her white shirt clean and ironed, her black suit sleek in its contrast. “One note I would like to make is that the two locations we’ve lost were done by Divines. Here are the images from the men tasked with surveillance of the sites.” Sara brought out two images to show to everyone around them.

One was a barn, a simple wooden structure. Circular as was the fashion in the mountains of southern Karaina. Green grass, clear skies, it was practically picturesque where it not for the giant woman in silver armour in the middle of the image. She held an executioner’s axe even taller than herself. The other image was of a building in some city centre; grand tall buildings, their roofs high-peaked and curling around the edges of the homes. This shot had a tall woman in golden armour, followed by two dozen police officers. This one held a golden spear.

“Maisara and Fortia.” Sara continued. “It was expected for some locations to be exposed because of Operation SkyStealer, so apart from the managerial time in acquiring new locations, losses are minimal. Every important document was salvaged, I have confirmed it myself and brought most back to headquarters.”

“Good job.” Arascus commented. “And on recruitment?”

“There are no changes to report. Last week’s predictions have been beaten. We’ve had an influx of people from Southern Karaina joining up after losing confidence that the government could allow the Astangrad Massacre.” Good, concise, quick, to the point. Arascus smiled as the woman inclined her head and sat back down. The war-room fell into silence only to be disturbed by the typing of a secretary nearby as she recorded the minutes of the meeting.

“So onto the engineering department. Alash.” Arascus turned to the engineer. Proper dress was mandatory in the headquarters, but Mikhail pushed that about as far as he could. The suit had been exchanged for a heavy greatcoat and the man’s hair was beginning to thin out and turn grey. He stood up sheepishly, took a deep breath and paused for a moment. Experienced people would simply blurt out the bad news and get the ordeal over with, the lack of experience with failure was a crucial weakness in his team. Arascus needed to set them harder tasks.

“In regards to engineering, the warplane project has stalled.” Mikhail looked around as if he was preparing to rest his head on the table to be executed with that axe in the picture of Maisara. Arascus remained silent, the man was already taking it hard enough, there was no need to comment. “Very simply, it is an impossibility.”

This though, was pushing it. “Impossibility?” Arascus leaned forwards from his throne and the two dozen people around the table held their breath. Alash nodded nervously and then spoke, his voice was on the edge of cracking.

“Frankly, yes. The first time a weapon is fired, a plane tested in live combat, there is always luck required. We cannot…” He sighed and straightened his back. “I cannot theorize a way to have a fool-proof design in the fashion you wish. A live-fire exercise is needed, but then that would reveal our advantage of surprise, without it, we can simply hope all our theorizing is correct.”

“So it cannot be done?” Arascus’ voice growled like a waking bear.

“No.” Alash replied and straightened his greatcoat. Arascus nodded and leaned back. This is why he had these meetings.

“Very well, what about the planes themselves, have you cut them all up?”

“We kept the jets as requested, they’re still in usable condition.”

“What about guns for shooting down aircraft?”

“One of the new engineers had an idea to put timed fuses in the shell-casings. We’ve our first experiment with it yesterday, it works.” Arascus turned to Iliyal Tremali. The elf sat there unmoving.

“Looks like we should put you on recruiting more often then Iliyal.” The elf smiled and inclined his head.

“If it is to be so, then so be it.” He said, the elf would agree to anything, but that answer made it obvious he did not want the position of being a kidnapping-recruiter again. Arascus turned back to Mikhail Alash.

“Is there anything else to report?”

“No.”

“Sit.” Alash sat as Arascus stood up. “There is no shame in failure in these meetings. If something is impossible, and the impossibility can be explained, then there is nothing to be done. We’re not building ladders to the Sun here, we’re running a war. Setbacks do happen. Alash, can those planes be made faster?”

“Yes.”

“Then squeeze them until they’re almost at breaking point. Weaponry can be substituted, the planes themselves cannot.”

“Yes Sir.” Alash replied, Arascus did not react as he spoke to the people around the wooden table.

“The Warplane Project is cancelled. We will be heading forwards with the Sorcery-Contingency. Tremali, present the plan.” The elf already had his notes prepared. He stood up, that little red cape fluttering slightly behind his black suit and he took a deep breath.

“In short, the Sorcery-Contingency is finalized in the same fashion. We use the planes to ambush Leona as she is in-flight. The end result is the same, but preparations will be harder.” He took a breath and pulled out a list of tasks to complete.

“Firstly, I have come in contact with Sorcerers during the Fer Incident. They have confirmed to be apostles of Goddess Anassa, and that she is locked away in Arcadia. The steps are rather simple, we either rescue Anassa, or we temporarily recruit a number of her students.” Tremali put the paper down and started to walk around the table, his hand on his sword hilt.

“There is an obvious danger which is that Leona is still active. As in Operation SkyStealer, a higher-value target has to be presented as bait to lure out Leona.” He let took another breath. “In the case of SkyStealer, it was easy, a third of the men were sent off to Pepayel Regional Airport and the rest were tasked with lower priority targets. In the case of Goddess Anassa, there is one possible target which could be considered of higher priority.”

Iliyal Tremali looked to Arascus.

“However our God cannot show himself until Leona is confirmed dead. A rescue of Anassa would also bring attention to us.”

“So you’re saying we hire the four young sorcerers you met?” Duchess Daganhoff spoke up. Iliyal nodded.

“I saw them fight, only one girl has any hesitation with ending lives. The other three would make for excellent human artillery.”

“So you’re saying we mount them to a plane?” Edwis Arheim asked. The brown-haired and green-eyed man was tasked with communications between the various branches. Arguably one of the most important roles, and one only a person so utterly boring as Edwis could hope to achieve in. The lack of creative thinking in him was exactly the sort of thing needed to keep up to date on communication channels.

“Alash.” Arascus silenced the room as it began to chatter. “I don’t want a design from you right now, I merely want to know if it is possible: Can we have a plane from which sorcerers cast magic?”

All eyes fell on Mikhail Alash as the man sat there for a moment. He considered something, then something else, then crossed his arms. “Do you mean a door?”

“It can be a door or a hole.” Arascus replied.

“Easily. Yes. With full certainty. The plane could be ready…” He thought for a moment. “Four weeks time? Three if we’re fast.” Arascus shook his head.

“Give it five, luck is not to be factor. If you have to run tests, then run them in North-Eastern Karaina, away from civilization.” The God turned to Iliyal Tremali. “Stay after the meeting, we will discuss how to acquire our human artillery.”