Chapter 43: Group Rho

The ride passed in silence. Occasionally, the other men would discuss battle plans or tactics, but never for long. Instead, they focused on mentally preparing themselves for the horrors of war, something Charon was entirely bored with. ’At this point, just let me make my own decisions. If I’m going to fight, let me fight. Enough of this waiting!’ A few times, he had tried to strike up a conversation with Emerius, but the officers would silence them. Charon eventually ignored them and talked right over the top of their glares, but Emerius didn’t seem to be in the mood to speak. And so, the hour passed, punctuated by the men standing and preparing to disembark. The ramp opened without the vehicle stopping, the officers moving to the edge and jumping without so much as an ounce of hesitation. Of course, they didn’t tell the duo about this, leaving them momentarily confused before they leapt to their feet and followed suit. Emerius went first, gracefully landing in a roll that left him springing to his feet. Charon, however, had a very different result. He jumped off the edge, the momentum leaving him hanging in the air for a moment before he unceremoniously fell to his face, the dirt and rocks cutting into his skin to leave a rash. Hissing as he stood, Charon wiped his robes down and scowled. ’I hope these officers are the ones who don’t make it back.’ It was an extreme reaction to wish death upon another, but as he had figured before, these men already had one chance at this. All of this was just a bonus. ’When I summoned the Warden, he was from this realm. Maybe my next summons will be these morons. I’ll make them do the work for me.’ Behind him, the APCs ramp slid back up as it raced into the distance, making a complete curve and heading back to the camp. Only once Charon reached the rest of the officers did they bother to explain. "Too many men, too few vehicles. We can’t risk all of them getting lost in the fight, especially through some kind of trap or ambush before we even build battle lines." Charon raised a skeptical eyebrow. ’Why would the enemy risk engaging us here rather than the town? That’s tactical suicide. I bet these guys just wanted to mess with us.’ Like during the fight against the ratlings, the logistics of engagement didn’t make sense to Charon, or at least how everyone was treating them. To him, a lot of what they were doing was a waste. ’They have a ton of tanks. Why not shell the buildings so the enemy can’t have the cover? Or if they wanted to preserve them, the plan should be more intricate.’ As it stood, all he knew was they were going to "attack." The closest thing to detailing was that one group of the mages would secure buildings, and another would clear the roads. A third would be backup, and that’s it. What reason did they have to ignore better planning and just... charge? Charon’s eyes flicked to Emerius. ’He said that the officer leading this was famous, one of the best in history. He has to know this is a bad idea, but why would he still take it?’ Three possibilities came to Charon. ’He wants a massacre. He wants to see us rush in and do as much damage as possible. Another possibility is that he thinks the enemy is weak enough that any large-scale planning would be a waste.’ He quickly dismissed those two. ’He didn’t seem like an idiot, a massacre doesn’t suit him. Nor did he act like the enemy was weak, he mentioned large casualties after all.’ That only left the third option. ’There’s something in the village that’s time sensitive, and waiting could mean losing it.’ Although there was little concrete evidence, Charon felt almost positive that it was the reason. ’The River Acheron is the realm of the strongest souls. There has to be all kinds of relics, hidden treasures, and ancient artifacts hidden across it. The town must be hiding one of those, and the Claytons took it. Now the High Elders want it back at any cost, while also making sure the Claytons don’t find it first.’ The group crested a small hill, the rest of the army group at the best of the next one. APCs and trucks were lined up in neat rows, hundreds of magi standing around them with their weapons at the ready. Charon suppressed the urge to glare at the others. ’Too few vehicles, my ass!’ The blue mage was among them, dishing out orders at various groups and getting them into small formations. The moment the other officers saw him, they rushed over before being sent to other areas to instruct the men. When it was Charon’s turn, he was given a half-hearted command to watch over a small group of ten mages, whom they called "Group Rho." Wandering over, he saw what looked to be the most ragged group of mages he had ever seen. Most of them were simple T-shirts and jeans, with only two having robes. A third had some basic leather armor, but it wasn’t anything more than the basics. Charon and Emerius stood out, the former with the chains crossing his chest, and the latter due to the gold trim of his robes. The others glanced at them before returning to their monotonous activities, whether it was sharpening their swords or talking to the mage closest to them. ’So that’s why the officers don’t like Group Rho.’ It was clear to see that there wasn’t any order or cohesion within the group. The moment shots were fired, they would scatter and do whatever they could to survive. ’If they didn’t just run.’ Deciding the group wasn’t worth his attention, he turned to Emerius, noticing a similar amount of disappointment on his face. "I guess it will just be us during the battle." Emerius nodded. "I agree. I am well-versed in urban combat, and I am eager to apply my teachings." His friend gave him a curious glance. "What did they do when they took you?" Charon’s eyes widened at the edges as he remembered he hadn’t filled his friend in. Over the next hour, he divulged everything he learned, leaving nothing out. Although when they first met, he didn’t trust Emerius much, if at all, he was slowly coming around to believe the man had his best intentions in mind. ’He might value his family more, but he isn’t a bad guy.’ As he spoke, Emerius listened intently, interjecting only for the most basic of clarifications. The thing he seemed most interested in was his element, soul. "So the Animancers used to be here, walking among the dead? Then they left?" Charon shook his head. "They used to be here, but they didn’t just leave. The High Elders spoke of a civil war, and that the Animancers split into two groups. During the fighting, they left." Emerius frowned. "That’s impossible. If they left for the living realms, the Empire would certainly have records about them. I have been taught history from a dozen of the most prominent historians, and not once have they mentioned a group known as the Animancers." Absent-mindedly massaging his chin, a thought occurred to Charon. "What if it happened millennia ago?" Emerius’ eyebrows knit together. "Impossible. It would have had to happen at least ten thousand years ago, before we began to colonize the stars. Even the strongest of mages can barely live longer than a thousand years." Charon tilted his head. "What about General Mongrave? You said he helped lead those conquests, yet here he is, looking very young for being ten millennia old." Emerius’ eyes widened to the size of dinner plates, the teenager facepalming in an uncharacteristic display of emotion. "Of course! That makes so much sense now!" "What does?" "Time! The sun never setting! This is a realm of the dead, entirely in the Domain of Death!" Growing more confused, Charon rolled his hands, as if telling him to explain. Emerius happily obliged, his energy returning as he rattled off. "The realm of the living is ruled equally by all ten gods, which is why they are limited in how they involve themselves. It also means there are certain rules they abide by, such as the laws of physics. In their own domains, however, they can do anything they want, like time moving weird, or the day never ending." Emerius scoffed. "How did I not realize it sooner..." Preparing to ask his friend why that mattered, he was stalled by the blue-robed mage calling out across the camp. "Pack it up, men! The advance begins now!"