I. The Parade of Pity
Vael was not marching back to the capital; he was being borne.
Four strong, weeping former enemy soldiers carried him on a shield like a deceased saint, forcing Vael to stare perpetually at the jungle canopy.
"I am alive, you fools!" Vael yelled, his voice muffled by the velvet cloak General Vorlag had forced upon him. "I can walk! Put me down, or I swear I will compose a sonnet about your disrespect!"
General Vorlag, who now insisted Vael call him "Arch-Deacon Vorlag," walked backward in front of the shield, his face glistening with tears of devotion. "My Lord, it is our sacred rule! We carry our Generals who have sacrificed themselves and died for the cause. This is a sign of ultimate respect!"
"But I didn't die! I was running away!" Vael muttered, hitting the soldier carrying his left foot.
The wives, walking behind him, were equally divided. Princess Kira was incandescent with jealousy. "He called us a 'strange game' in his Holy Edict! He hates me!"
"Quiet, Kira," Lyra said, meticulously taking notes on a small scroll. "His words were a riddle. Commander Vael's tactical value has increased by 115%."
Vael felt a wave of icy dread. He needed to be poor and irrelevant again.
"Arch-Deacon Vorlag!" Vael called out, desperate. "Do not call me Lord! Call me... Commander Vael, who merely agreed with your strategic assessment! Do not mention the poetry!"
Vorlag immediately knelt, causing Vael's litter to tilt dangerously. "My Lord, I cannot defile the sacred mission! Command me to run this sword through my own heart! Just do not force me to lie about your divine status!"
Vael looked at the sword Vorlag was presenting. I did not give a command! Put that terrifying piece of sharpened metal away! he thought, but by then, Vorlag was already back up, taking his silence as a divine reprieve.
II. The Royal Audience and The Generalship
Vael's entry into the capital was not a return; it was a religious spectacle. The King was waiting, flanked by the Royal Court, his face radiating triumphant pride.
"My son-in-law! My Commander!" the King boomed. "You have performed a miracle! To capture and convert the enemy's main force without losing a single man! You are a genius of non-violence!"
Vael was finally placed on the ground. He bowed deeply. "Your Majesty," Vael said, his voice rehearsed. "I come before you to resign my post. I am a poet, not a commander, and the duties of General are too taxing for my—"
The King cut him off. "Ah, the humility of a true victor! He claims no personal glory! You captured 550 soldiers and convinced them of the truth of our Kingdom! See the character of a true leader!"
The King placed a heavy, golden general's chain around Vael's neck. "You are hereby appointed General of the Eastern Armies! You shall defend the Kingdom! Your divine words have brought us peace, and only you can protect it!"
Vael was horrified. "But, Your Majesty, I wish to step away from all these worldly bonds and retire to a simple, quiet life, away from conflict."
The King simply smiled. "You speak the truth of every great warrior! Go, General Vael! Go to your chambers and rest. Tomorrow, we plan the next great strategic move. For now, know that the fate of the Kingdom is safe in your hands."
III. The Terror of Command and Rylan's Awe
Vael retreated to his terrifying new Royal Suite. He felt utterly defeated.
A moment later, a loud knock echoed. "My Lord! It is Arch-Deacon Vorlag! I require the Holy Directive for the morning's deployment! Who shall we strike first?"
"Go away!" Vael screamed. "I command you to... to wait two minutes!"
Two minutes later, the knock returned. "My Lord, the two minutes have elapsed! I await your Divine Edict! Shall we cleanse the Southern borders or begin the conversion of the Western territories?"
Vael slammed the door shut and locked it.
Just then, Captain Rylan, Vael's former captain who had witnessed the full chaos of the field, rushed over to the wives standing outside Vael's door.
Captain Rylan (whispering, breathless): "Ladies! Wives! You are truly the Divine Handmaidens of the Lord of Pity! You saw how he did it! He didn't even touch them! Your fighting was brilliant, of course, but his strategy! To break their morale by fleeing! To prove his weakness is his true strength!"
Rylan then turned to Astra. "Lady Astra, your courage! You are the Mosquito of Vengeance! Small, buzzing, but utterly deadly to the enemy! I bow to you! I resign my Captaincy! I wish to be your devoted slave! Your true strength, Madame, surpasses all men!"
Astra's lips curved into a dangerous smile. "You are a very observant man, Rylan. Report to the Mess Hall. You are now designated Chief Logistical Officer of the Harem Security Detail."
IV. The Divine Wailing and The Edict of the Earth (Enhanced)
Vael, unaware of the new recruit, threw himself onto the massive, gilded bed and began to weep. It was a loud, theatrical release of months of emotional agony.
"Aethel! What did you do to me?" Vael wailed. "I don't want a cult! I just want peace! Why am I cursed with this competence I never asked for? Why, why, why, why!"
Outside the chamber door, Arch-Deacon Vorlag and the entire honor guard stood at attention, their ears straining.
Vorlag (whispering reverently): "Silence, men! He is performing the Ritual of the Piteous Soul! Listen to the sounds of his suffering! He is drawing pure Divine Strength from the wellspring of all woe! He is preparing the Edict!"
Vael finally stood up, his face a disaster of tear tracks. He unlocked the door and stepped out, looking like a man who had survived a terrible bath.
Arch-Deacon Vorlag instantly knelt. "My Lord! You have suffered! What is the Holy Edict? Where shall we strike with the power you have summoned?"
Vael thought of war, of blood, of logistics, and his stomach churned. He looked at the 550 soldiers and gave the only sensible order a poet could give.
"The Kingdom cannot fight when its soldiers are weak!" Vael declared, trying to sound important but mostly just sounding exhausted. "We must increase our strength! And strength comes from food!"
He swept his hand vaguely toward the horizon. "I command you all! Go! Every man shall assist the farmers! We shall spend one full year cultivating the land! We shall eat and grow strong! Strength through Sustenance! This is the ultimate strategic move!"
A beat of stunned silence followed. Then, Arch-Deacon Vorlag leapt to his feet, eyes shining with a new, blinding zeal.
Vorlag (shouting to the army): "Do you hear the wisdom, brothers?! He thinks years ahead! He commands us to secure the supply lines! The Lord of Pity has delivered the Edict of the Earth! We shall go! We shall farm! We shall feast, and then we shall conquer!"
The entire army erupted in cheers of "Edict of the Earth!" and "All Hail the Lord of Pity!" The 550 soldiers immediately formed ranks, but instead of a military march, they began a low, synchronized devotional chant, marching toward the distant fields.
"Our faces are but dust, our strength a tiny fly!
But the Lord of Pity wills that we shall never die!
The Harem's fire burns, like the sun upon the Earth,
For the Lord of Pity, soil gives our new birth!
We farm for the Lord! We weep for the Lord! We grow strong for the Lord!"
Vael stood alone, watching the massive, devastating army march away to commit farming labor while singing terrifying, devotional poetry. Captain Rylan, now Chief Logistical Officer, marched proudly beside them, trying to imitate the wives' stoic expression.
I have never done anything so brilliant in my entire pathetic life, Vael thought, sinking against the door frame. I just want to be a writer.