“Then what makes it holy?” Gastropé asked.
Maelen grinned and shook his head from side to side. “Well, the imperial family, with their very distinct purple eyes, is said to be descended from the god Torean.”
“Demi-gods?” Elrose asked, frowning.
Maelen shrugged and gave them an expression indicating he doubted it. “Very diluted blood at best.”
“So that’s the only holy part of it?” Gastropé asked. “I always thought it was a much bigger deal — you know, religious wise.”
Maelen nodded. “The five religions are the only recognized religions, and the empire does use the resources of the churches as extensions of itself, so it is pretty tightly integrated. However, the emperor is officially neutral to the five religions and is the final arbitrator between them in Astlan. So it is complicated, but it is not a theocracy, even though it may seem that way.”
“Wait,” Jenn said. “Back up. You included Noajar in the lands the empire controls.” Maelen nodded. “So are we actually in the Holy Etonian Empire right now?”
“We are. A colony, but still part of the Empire,” Maelen confirmed.
Tom listened carefully to his Nysegard commanders around the conference table: Targh Bowelsplitter, Vargg Agnoth, Darg-Krallnom, Arg-nargoloth, Helga Dourtooth and Völund. Tamarin had shrunk herself down to less than a foot tall and was sitting on Tom’s shoulder. She had apparently gotten this idea from seeing a cartoon image in his mind, when searching for an ideal form, featuring a demon sitting on someone’s shoulder and whispering in their ear. She had thought it would be funny if she sat on a demon’s shoulder and whispered in his ear.
“As was mentioned yesterday,” Targh was saying, “our shamans have been powering runic gateways manually as needed to shuffle troops between villages; however, it would be good to get the permanent gateways set up as soon as possible. As it is now, we have to do multiple hops to reach some destinations.”
Völund nodded. “Agreed. I think the first thing to do would be to hook your current gateways into the DoomNet. The old gateways were in the old cities and thus most likely heavily damaged. Obviously, the old gateways are better integrated, more sophisticated, use less mana and have greater range, but they may take too much time to repair. I will have a small team start investigating the old gateway, but the majority of our efforts will focus on the new ones.”
Helga nodded. “I am certain that there will be renewed attacks as soon as the Storm Lords realize that the Doom of Nysegard is once more operational.”
Targh grunted in agreement. “They have been making periodic tests for the last few thousand years, but have not made a truly concerted effort since we finally pushed them back a bit over three thousand years ago. However, I suspect they will make a serious effort to damage us before we can get back to full strength.”
“Why have they not tried a more massive attack recently?” Darg-Krallnom asked.
“Well, for the last large battles, we formed a coalition with others, including the… Los Alfar… and were able to deplete their forces considerably,” Targh explained.
“You what?” Arg-nargoloth exclaimed in shock.
“You heard me,” Targh grunted.
“You joined forces with the fragging elves?” Arg-nargoloth seemed quite offended.
“Enemy of my enemy!” Targh replied angrily. “It was that or extinction.”
Arg-nargoloth shook his head in dismay. “I hope the cooperation ended shortly thereafter?”
“As you know, we had before, and have now, an uneasy truce. There have been times where they have called on us for assistance, and we have obliged out of honor.”
Helga grinned cynically at Arg-nargoloth. “As I have told you many times, Nysegard makes strange bedfellows of everyone.”
Arg-nargoloth sighed. “I know that very well; it is just depressing to know that things got to such a level.”
Darg-Krallnom chuckled. “We do what we must in pursuit of war. Next topic.”
Targh spoke up. “My thought is that we do the oath-taking with those in Krallmonton today and then, as we bring the runic gateways up, we proceed to each village for the rest of the oath-takings. No sense wasting time flying hundreds of leagues between towns.”
Darg-Krallnom looked to Tom regarding this issue. “Agreed,” Tom said simply.
“Does anyone have anything else to discuss?” Darg-Krallnom asked.
No one said anything so Tom thought he would bring up his idea. “I have a thought,” he said, causing the rest of the group to turn their attention to him. “Valg mentioned that when half-D’Orcs died, you”—he gestured to Targh—“and your shaman were not able to summon them back from the Abyss? Unlike full D’Orcs.”
“Indeed. They apparently did not return to the Abyss like a D’Orc would,” Targh said sadly.
Tom nodded. “This is interesting, because from my experience, half-demons do return to the Abyss. However, those that I know returned had all been to the Abyss before perishing on the Planes of Orc.”
Helga tilted her head. “So their souls had a reference point, an anchor, to return to. That makes sense.” She nodded in agreement.
“Therefore, I am thinking we want all of those with D’Orc blood, of whatever amount, to spend some time in the Abyss,” Tom said. “We can do rotations if needed to maintain troop levels.”
Vargg slapped the table. “Excellent idea, my lord! Actually, I had been about to suggest that we begin rotations with all the D’Orcs in Nysegard. We generally rotated troops across the Doomalogues to ensure uniform training and experience. We should restart this program; later-generation D’Orcs need more battle experience and I am sure many on Nysegard would like to see Doom and old friends again.”
Darg-Krallnom nodded. “Yes, I like this. Vargg, can you work out a rotation schedule with Targh that ensures proper experience levels and training opportunities in Nysegard?”
The D’Orcs all nodded and seemed quite pleased with Tom’s suggestion, so he decided to broach the next, more ambitious thought he’d had. “One other thought I’ve had is this. We are very short-handed in terms of shamans in Mount Doom; we need more magical support here if we are to reestablish our old connections,” he said.
“Agreed; however, we are not exactly flush with D’Orc shamans on Nysegard,” Targh said.
“But you do have quite a few orc shamans,” Tom said.
“Orc, human, dwarven, yes,” Targh agreed. “I would not say we have a surplus, but we do have some very good ones.”
“Exactly. In particular you have Karth Death Cheater; I believe you told me he was one of the greatest shamans in a thousand years.”
Targh frowned. “He is; however, he is very old for an orc. I doubt he would survive long in Mount Doom.”
“What if he were a D’Orc?” Tom asked.
“Yes,” Darg-Krallnom said with a grin. “That would work extremely well.” The others all nodded in agreement, seeming very happy with Tom’s idea.
“Now, the problem is this: does anyone remember how to make D’Orcs?” Tom asked. That caused quite a bit of muttering and shuffling in their seats.
“Well, there were quite a few shamanistic rituals required,” Arg-nargoloth replied tentatively. “Not sure if you have any shamans on Nysegard that are familiar with the process?” Arg-nargoloth looked to Targh, who seemed lost in thought.
“We may; it has been so long; we have lost so many,” Targh said with a frown.
“I do know, that in the case of someone who was still alive, it was simpler,” Darg-Krallnom said. “As I recall, it was a matter of the candidate smoking demon weed and traveling to the Astral Plane, where a shaman would then summon them as a D’Orc using a ritual similar to summoning a demon.”