We entered the city at first light, in our wake a company strength of war orphans. Onlookers pressed in close as our weary column snaked through the streets. Cheers rose from the massed citizens hailing our victory over the nihilists and their formless God. Rose petals rained down from the balconies and rooftops. For a brief time we would be hailed as heroes. The glow of adoration fades quickly and the political currency will soon turn counterfeit. Expediency and bold action will be required to cash in on our victory.
The Spire loomed ever-present before us. We had done what they could or would not. Perhaps now they would surrender their arrogance and acknowledge the necessity of muscle, steel, and blood.
Never, it was not their way.
Still, I will savor this moment.
Richter Holdings had kept up their end of the bargain at the cost of their namesake. I had misgivings about their convictions, but I am happy to say I was wrong about their mettle. The slender businessman had stones, riding into that camp on a wagon of gunpowder. I had never seen a fire like it. The flash of light from the explosion would make any wizard doubt his prowess. Sig and his companion Bromm had ignited the payload under the sacrificial tower at the center of the camp. I couldn’t believe anyone or anything survived such a perilous wonder.
The battle will live on in my memories as a grand and glorious victory, but I hope that that song fades from my memory. To think of it shakes my soul, chasing away my better angels. To those who faced Asha directly I can only pray they may be blessed with pleasant dreams in the years to come. I fear there has not been bottled a libation to assuage the memory of it.
