The Greatest Sin

“It’s them! It’s them! It’s them!” People shouted out at a shooting range in the far reaches of Karaina B, far away from civilization. “Look, the beastmen have returned!”

Fer leaned in close to Neneria. “Come on Nene, at least put the horse away.”

Ilwin, Iliyal and Arascus sat alone in the war-room as the youngest among finished explaining. Iliyal and Arascus sat in silence listening to every word of the tale. From the disaster with running into Leona at Pepayel Regional Airport, to the capture, to the interrogations, to meeting Kassandora. And then the information Kassandora had told him.

Iliyal poured himself another glass of whiskey and passed one to Ilwin. This was the first time Ilwin had seen his grandfather drunk, all smiles and with rosy cheeks. It somehow didn’t sit right with him, that hard face, the cold eyes, the military garb. It simply did not fit. Arascus had allowed it though, he had poured the first glass for Iliyal.

“Then, we trekked here.” Ilwin said. “I brought the men because they saw the White Pantheon, I thought it was right to do.”

“Right indeed!” Iliyal raised his glass. “Rightly so! Righteous in fact!” Arascus rolled his eyes and leaned back in that massive throne of a chair.

“It was a breach of protocol, but a sensible one.” Arascus said and explained. “Given the exceptional performance and initiative, the information acquired. If your family we’re not nobles, you would have been titled today.”

“Thank you Sir.” Ilwin said, colour going to his cheeks. To be praised like that?

“You’re owed a medal.” Arascus said. “And a promise akin to Daganhoff’s. Post-war, any palace or castle, you may have it along with the old Tremali holdings.”

“You hear that!” Iliyal cheered and downed yet another glass. “Praise you get used to, rewards though? Eh?” The ancient elf burst out in laughter and put his hands on the table. He slurred his words, his eyes were cloudy, his cheeks red, but as he stood up, he embodied all that a general should be. “So we have an opening now. We have found Leona.”

“We have indeed.” Arascus said.

“I hope the planes from the other airports are what they were hoped to be.” Ilwin said. Now that he had given his story, he wanted to hear about what had been happening back in the headquarters. He could not ask Arascus of course, and his grandfather wasn’t in any state to talk today either. Ilwin did not mind that though, he had expected Iliyal to give him a salute. Maybe a hug and two or three words.

He had seen the man cry. Arascus tapped his fingers, gave Iliyal another look and thought about something. Ilwin waited in silence, the three of them barely took up a tenth of the table together but with Iliyal giggling away between every breath, the war-room had more life in it than during a meeting. “Before that Ilwin, I have something to offer.” He took another breath.

“Yes Sir.” Iliyal barely stopped himself from giving an instinctual salute.

“A promotion. Iliyal will train you to serve as his replacement.” Arascus began slowly. “If what Kassandora said about Leona was true, then…” He paused as Ilwin’s eyes got as wide as saucers. A replacement for his grandfather? “Leona will indeed die, that is assured, but at what cost?” Ilwin blinked.

“I do not understand.”

“Killing Leona is a battle, we’re fighting a war. You can win every battle and still lose the war. Her death, we both predict will be a pyrrhic victory. The chance for it to be bloodless on our side…” He took a sigh. “It practically does not exist.”

“I see.”

“You do.” Arascus said and looked to Iliyal, he took a breath and finally dropped the words. “Your grandfather will lead the ground team.” Ilwin’s face paled as Iliyal sobered up immediately. Gone was the colour in his cheeks, those eyes refocused themselves as if the man was a wolf hunting for prey. Ilwin leaned back in his seat and nodded.

“I am the best candidate to lead an assassination of Leona.” Even the slurring was gone from Iliyal’s words. “I have faced the White Pantheon before, it is only right that I lead the ground team.”

“Ah.” Ilwin said the word without emotion. He tried to think of some counter-argument. He himself had failed an operation against the Goddess already. His grandfather had survived the Great War.

“Now that Arascus has returned, my role as leader is no longer needed. We have no armies either, a General without an army?” Iliyal merely shrugged. “It is what it is. The simple situation is that Leona must die, and for Leona to die, it is best if I do it.”

“But you’re a mortal.” Why did Arascus not do it? Ilwin gave a single at the God, he was massive in stature but now he sat like a defeated man.

“I have killed a God already.” Iliyal raised his glass smoothly, as if it was his first drink and not his second bottle. “When I meet my ancestors, they will already be jealous with envy. Two?” He smirked at Ilwin. “I may be the greatest Tremali a hundred generations back and a hundred forwards.”

“And Fer?” Ilwin barked. His eyes bulged as he apologetically looked to Arascus. That sort of tone would be unacceptable to a sergeant, much less the God of Pride.

“We have extensively discussed already.” Arascus explained slowly, he seemed to take no notice of the anger in Ilwin’s voice. “Fer…” He took a deep breath. “I adopted her third. Goddess of Beasthood, she is loud, brash, she rarely thinks before doing anything, prone to emotion, filled with rage, she enters a bloodlust when she tastes blood.” Ilwin blinked. Was the man talking about an enemy or his own daughter? “She takes initiative by herself, rarely sticks to plans, she believes in luck far too much for her own good and will frequently play down her own strength and owe success to chance.”

“I see.” Ilwin said. Arascus shook his head.

“You don’t. Fer is an angry dog, fiercely loyal, but Leona will most likely not be alone. If by some miracle it is just her, then I would send a team filled with nothing but rookies to kill her. Allasaria will be there most likely, we did expect back-up from Maisara and Fortia and planned for it.”

“Six teams in separate locations to stall, bait and pull away. It would be a one-way trip for all of them.” Iliyal said grimly. “A seventh and eighth would move in to deal the killing blow, failure would be assured from the curse of Leona’s Luck. Team nine would serve as bait to finally exhaust her, we expect most guns to jam and men to keel over from heart attacks and the like but Leona cannot handle that much combat in such a short about of time. Team ten, mine, would move in for the kill. I would do it personally.”

“Why must you do it?”

“Because there are only two souls in this entire base I would trust to successfully kill her. I am one of them.” Iliyal said, he looked to the God in that pause. “It would not be a shot through the chest. She has to be killed, not merely shot or stabbed. She has to be taken so far past the edge of living that even Kavaa would look at the body and shake her head. She has to be annihilated.”

“And how are you going to do that?”

“Shoot her, then douse the body in gasoline and ignite it. Team ten then has to stall the other Divines for up to one minute, until there is nothing but ashes and bones left.” Iliyal looked to Ilwin. “Do you even know how to stall Maisara? Much less Allasaria?” Ilwin fell back into his seat.

“Fer would grow enraged and would not be able to divide her herd properly.” Arascus said. “When the beastmen would start dying, her force would all a bloodlust. It would be a slaughter, maybe they could kill Allasaria or the other Divines but they would forget apart Leona. It takes about thirty minutes or so for them to calm down, Elassa, Zerus and Sceo are all fast enough to intercept them.”

“And there is no other way?” Ilwin asked.

“If we had other Divines, different daughters available. I would trust them to finish the job. If I had my magic, it could be done. But we play with the hand we’re dealt. Fer, simply said, is a candidate so unreliable I would trust mortals rather her.” Ilwin poured himself a glass of whiskey.

“So we have two months?” He asked.

“Two months for you to learn every important teaching Iliyal can give you.”

“And then?” Ilwin asked.

“And then you assume Iliyal’s role.”

“So there’s no chance he won’t return?” Ilwin felt like as if he was banging his head against a brick wall. There had to be some other way. Something else… There… This simply could not be it. His grandfather had survived so long, Iliyal was sure the man would outlive him too. He was as eternal as the Gods at this point. There was no one else like him…

“We’ve not planned for it.” Arascus admitted.

“Tell Kassandora to pour one out for me.” Iliyal said.

“That’s it then?” Ilwin asked.

“I’ll plague you for two more months.” Iliyal answered. “But yes.”

“I…” Ilwin felt his own eyes grow wet, he downed the glass and poured another one. Drank that, then poured another. Arascus watched him with careful eyes but said nothing. There was nothing the God could say anyway, Ilwin did not want to hear any of it. “I mean…” For the first time in his life, he felt what it was like to manage a war. His grandfather had always sequestered him away from relationships, it was one thing to fraternize with the men after a successful mission, it was another to have friends. Ilwin finally understood it.

“The first time is the worst, you never get used to it, but the first time is the worst.” Iliyal said as he took the bottle out of Ilwin’s grasp. “But being sad over a man still walking is no excuse to start drinking.”

“I’m not…” Ilwin collapsed in tears on the table. He would rather he go alone. He would rather slit his own wrists than… than this. He had never known his father, the man died before Ilwin had even began walking, Iliyal had raised him alone. “So what then?” Was there anything that helped with this pain?

“Get duties.” Iliyal said. “Duties push thoughts away and keep you thinking about the living and not the dead. You’ll be seeing ghosts if you let your mind wander.” Ilwin burst out into pained laughter as he stared at the girl in the corner behind the two others around the table. Short, pale, in a dress, with silver hair and blue eyes, almost dull. She stared at Arascus, at Iliyal and at Ilwin.

“Like that one?” He cried through tears. He had gone mad already! This is what he was! His grandfather had guided him for over two hundred years, the man had managed the remnants of Arascus’ forces for eight hundred before that! And here he was! A complete wreck! Who was he to replace Iliyal Tremali? The Great General, blessed by Kassandora himself! What accomplishments did Ilwin have? A few operations? Where success had all but been guaranteed by his grandfather’s planning?

Arascus and Iliyal looked at Ilwin pointing past them, then at themselves before they exhaled. Iliyal kept his gaze on Ilwin as Arascus poured himself a glass of whiskey. He eventually turned around to see what the elf was pointing at.

Arascus stood up. The bottle fell on the cold panelled floor. The whiskey splashed over Arascus. He took a step forwards. The ghost moved. It bowed its head and Arascus spoke: “Mint?”