(Written in response to the recent world progression. Turns out I wanted to write a story, so here it is.)
Some logistics tent in Drixagh
News of the failed smoke attempts didn't even have to reach the Lieutenant General's tent for him to find out. He witnessed first hand on the front lines as the supposed assault was easily dealt with. It didn't take long after that to hear the rumor circulate of the new revolts in the region. The Alt-Regalian paused a few moments, wondering what he did wrong. Was it not fair to show some mercy to those who were revolting? After all, didn't he feel the same way only months before.
He stood outside his tent contemplating these thoughts. He had usually attempted to deal with things diplomatically, and in the best interests of those on both sides, especially if that side was composed of fellow Ailor. And so the Lieutenant General pondered some more.
But it seemed time wanted to get through the skull of the aging man, in the most literal of senses. For a sudden gust of wind blew through the Drixagh camp that night, the chill hitting the duke's face like tiny needles. Though that was only to be expected. What wasn't expected however was the sudden collapse of one of the tent's support beams, and the large pole fell right on top of Dietrich's head. Thump.
The nearby sentry noticed right away, and went to grab the beam before it slid to the ground, preventing the duke from going with it. "Sir, are you alright?" was the only response uttered.
"Yes yes I'm fine..." the Alt-Regalian said cordially.
But then, the Lieutenant General thought about it a bit, and retorted to his own comment, with a complete change in tone:
"Actually, no. I'm not fine. I gave these savages mercy, and they viewed it as cowardice. I don't blame them either; that smoke decision was the most ill thought out assault I have ever planned. Now there's even more rebels turning against the Empire. And all because I decided to play courtly with barbarians. Well they made a grave mistake, assuming my mercy was a sign of weakness. It only goes to show one can't reason with a pack of wolves. The only solution is to bite back, and bite back we shall. This rebellion is no longer a battle of identity, it's about culling some animals. Gone are the mannerisms, we will negotiate on the battlefield in their blood. Starting with these new revolts. The traitors here can starve in their castles for all I care. One step out and they can enjoy the taste of an arrowhead. In the morning I'm calling for some more reserves. It's time for a hunt."
The news of the 12th Creed didn't even phase the duke at the present time. All he heard in his head was that the Obermark was dealt with, which meant he was now free to do more than idle along.
One should not laugh at live dragons while they still draw breath.
