Flames, Ash, Exodus, and the Final Hour
"Further more people, we can no longer afford to be optimistic in these grim times of ours... it is soon that the beasts, the demons and the heretics from the north, south, east and the west, descend upon our nation to try and consume it and tear it asunder. People, we must realize; the fight for our homeland, and the fight for Valyria is lost. We must retreat... we must evacuate." The Faelinkriser stroked his beard and nodded at the men around the table.
Commander Cornelius was the first to speak. "You speak of high treason, Faelinkriser. We can not abandon our homeland; we broke the Samnites down and ground them into the dust. We must continue the fight until the last man."
"And you would have the entire nation die by your hand?"
Cornelius lurched out of his chair and drew his knife. Members of the Red Faith that were present as a part of the Lark's entourage rose up as well and wielded knives of their own, made out of sharpened human bones and augmented with bronze that they had acquired and forged onto the bones.
"Sit down Cornelius." The Lark, or Sirius I as he was known, was tired. He leaned upon the table with his head propped up by his hand, and his eyes were red and puffy. "We have work to do and the Faelinkriser wanted me to hear him out at the very least."
Cornelius grunted and sat. The Faelinkriser bowed and continued; "As I was saying, the fight for Valyria is lost comrades. We can no longer keep a balanced nation here, nor can we keep order."
"And you propose us to run like cowards instead?" Cornelius and other members of the military hissed through their teeth at him.
"I propose that we go elsewhere. Valyria is lost, there is no reason to keep defending a place that will fall to the sword eventually... we have to try and rescue as many people as we can before the inevitable happens. Valyria will fall people, and the demons from the south and the north shall crush and murder us all unless we figure out a way to evacuate our people. It is the only way for Valyria to survive this onslaught."
"Then what do you propose?" The Lark had his attention on the Faelinkriser now. "What could possibly save us?"
"A fleet sir, a glorious fleet... a plague from the east is coming soon, and if we don't move and build this fleet to sail our people to new frontiers, we shall be lost in turmoil when the plauge strikes. We have to build the fleet... I estimate that we can take more than half of our people to the new lands."
"Half you say?" Cornelius leaned forward and tapped his dagger on the table. "What about the other half?"
The Faelinkriser hesitated. "We have to leave them behind for right now."
A flurry of comotion and arguments broke out in the room; Cornelius and other commanders rose up, knives out and making their way towards the Faelinkriser. Red Faith members were up as well, their red eyes evident as they moved forward and went to protect the Faelinkriser. Nobles of many houses from the Sarkovian royal family rose up and shouted at one another as did the merchants and the other assorted advisors present.
"All of you, shut up!"
Instantly, everything quieted down in the room. Papyrus papers that had flown up into the air during the commotion settled down. The Lark was on his feet, flanked by two menacing Red Faith members. "We have a job to do, and I must here the Faelinkriser out, so get back into your godammed seats and let's continue this meeting!"
Slowly, everyone sat back down, and the Faelinkriser remained standing. He continued unabated; "As I said, Valyria is lost. These new lands shall rescue our people. The people that shall remain behind are the Zealots, the Fanatics and the Martyrs, as well as the entirety of the Red Faith. The commanders that are a part of the Red Faith have requested to remain behind to 'devour the heretics'. Quite frankly, that is beneficial for us. It gives us a united front from which to hold the enemies at bay until we have the Grand Fleet ready to evacuate our people. Once we have them deposited off, the ships shall return for you."
"For those that are left you mean." Cornelius was scarlet, incadescent with rage. "We have close to twenty thousand men, yes, but how many will be lost as we hold off the Zirilists and the Ligurian dogs?"
"Plenty will be lost."
"And our cities? What about them?"
"We can leave nothing for the enemies." The Faelinkriser bent forward and put his palms on the giant map in the center of the table. "We must let them have a land of ashes and corpses; burn the cities and destroy them when they are likely to fall, even Sarkov. Let them have their victory, at a massive cost. Burn them, kill them, let them take only rubble and dust of our nation as it slips away."
"You are insane."
"It is our only option."
"And if we are still alive after that? What if the nation does not fall?"
"Do not burn the cities until it seems likely that they will fall... build tunnels out of the cities and light them on fire during the sieges. If the nation does not fall, hold your ground. We will have two footholds in the world that either one can retreat to if need be. If the Toras men and the Ligurians no longer wish to fight, then keep the watch steady."
"Your plan will require funding." The Lark broke in now to offer his grains of wisdom. "What about that?"
"We will draw funding from our own coffers in the Faith, and hopefully from you, King."
"You shall have it. Free Samnia can have the ruins of Kora-Torr for all I care." The Lark turned to Gaius Tatius and Camellius Tatius. "What about you two? Will you be going?"
Both shook their heads. "We shall not leave our homeland king, it is too late for that in our lives now."
The Lark smiled. "Then the three of us can die together, leading the people of Sarkovia to glory and honor."
Camellius nodded, as did Gaius. The Lark turned back to the Faelinkriser. "Do what needs to be done."
The Faelinkriser nodded.
"The wood on the arcs is rotting, sir."
"Dammit all to hell, we don't have time for this!"
"I know sir, I know..."
"Can you do anything about it?"
"No sire, we can not."
"Wonderful." The Faelinkriser mopped his brow. "The Lark will not be happy with this."
The columns were amassing now, giant columns of people. They had left their homes, their ancestral places and their places of worship to come here and be a part of the mass exodus. They were grim and dark, armed with whatever weapons that they had been provided with, or that they had picked up. Spears and bows were plentiful, and pitchforks and the hideously clawed sickle scythe was present as well. Storm clouds swirled in the sky as more than sixty thousand people amassed for their travel.
The Lark stood up on the hill top with his son, Tiberius. The boy was strong and brave, and to his credit he was a calm and well mannered fellow. Rain was falling gently on them now, as lighting crackled high up in the sky...
So it was happening. The final plan, a plan that would have saved almost all of their nation, was gone. The one hope that the leaders had held onto was gone; there was only this final remaining option.
Motioning to a man in the column, the Lark waited for the Grey Faith commander to come up. The Lark motioned to the boy as the Grey Faith commander snapped a salute. "Keep them all safe."
The commander nodded.
Tiberius gave his father one final look as he left with the commander, his hand in the older man's as they marched off to join the column.
"All of our nation is leaving at this point. Three hundred thousand people and over twenty five thousand soldiers are marching with them; they should be well protected. There is still the matter of our cities though..."
"I gave explicit orders."
"We know sir. We are enacting Operation Cinderbolt as we speak..."
"Good. And the assassins near Bellevenetum?"
"They are being... dealt with by the Red Faith as we speak. Something about, 'Delicious heretical dark meat', something of the sort akin to that."
"Wonderful. I'll remember that when we are eating water fowl."
"We won't have enough food stores to last us more than a year sir."
"I know."
"The people that are behind with us..."
"Have chosen to die an honorable death. The Fanatics, the Martyrs and the Zealots, they are all here because this what they want. They want revenge."
"Aye, sir."
"Have Operation Cinderbolt going by tomorrow, understood? I don't want anybody occupying our homeland."
"Understood sir."
"Dukes Gaius and Camellius...?"
"Staying behind sir. They wish to die in their homes as well. The Samnite refugees that are loyal to the Faith are streaming northward as we speak."
"And the matter of the sickness from the east?"
"Kindly One Silencers have been dispatched. They have their orders."
"Good. Take your leave then, soldier."
"Aye, commander."
The Lark looked out over Sarkov one last time, the city empty and devoid of all life now... the few remaining civilians had fled into the hills to wait to fling themselves at anyone trying to occupy Valyria. Farms and towns had already been slashed and burned, and the forests all over the peninsula had been set fire to; the winds blew strong, the flames and the smoke drifting southward.
Off in the distance, he could hear the bells ringing... the Lark smiled. His chirp was there, inside of those bells. They had been stamped with the Blackfyre and the insignia of the Lark, and now they rung in a mournful note to end this chapter of Valyria.
He smiled on further, remembering the good times; up in the north enjoying walks with friends, meeting his wife and having his son Tiberius being born into the world... the day he took power, the day he walked in the halls Sarklov I had walked in... he was not fit to go through those halls, not fit since Markrov died... but what did it matter at this point?
The bells stopped ringing.
That was the signal.
A single smoky contrail whipped itself over the distant walls of Sarkov to slam into the northern part of the city's homes.
Fires sprung up instantly, greedily eating their way through all that was there. Grasses and trees and wood had been piled high and stacked up to give the blaze some fuel, and the fires would have maybe a half hour before they reached the palace...
All across Valyria, this was taking place as Cinderbolt took effect.
The Valyrians were really sore losers... after all, burning down the cities and leaving only ash and rubble left the occupiers that would come after so many options.
The Lark smiled sadly once more. It would not be long until he joined the blaze...
Gods forgive me for my wrongs and my failings...