-- It is the eighth year of the Valhallan conflict. War covers the entire continent, although none of the belligerents seem any closer to defeat than they were at the beginning. No General is more enraged at this lack of results than Utgar. Within his red fortress at the heart of Bleakewoode the tyrant Valkyrie thirsts for another scheme with which he might overturn the entire playing board and triumph in one fell overwhelming swoop --
“We attack. That’s the best plan you could come up with?” Utgar roars, his clenched fist slamming into his throne. Even his mightiest minions quiver with fear.
“Well, we had a few ideas…” Taelord says, leading the charge in excuse-giving, “Ne-Gok-Sa recommended Mindshackling our enemies.”
Utgar only rubs his throbbing head, “His subterfuge has become mind-achingly predictable.”
Taelord shrugs, “Grimnak suggested a feigned retreat instead.”
“I should Disengage his head from his shoulders.”
“The DeathWalkers advised constructing more Rats.”
Utgar groans and rolls his eyes, “How many ’Reavers could I build out of DeathWalker scrap, I wonder?”
His Kyrie lieutenant reluctantly continues, “Cyprien thought the best course of action was for him to charge in alone and slay the entire Alliance, and run away if things got dicey. He seemed wounded when the rest of us rejected the idea, so he’s slunk off on his own to eat a few Nagrubs.”
“If only I could eat him to mend my own woes.”
“An excellent jest, my lord…!” Taelord laughs nervously, knowing he is next, “Of course, I had my own prevailing wisdom…!”
“Great. Taelord the Thinker. Taelord the Tactician.” Utgar is already slumping in his throne, “Let’s hear it, then.”
“Ah, well, my Minions and I… We figured, if we could only locate a battlefield with just enough spots of high ground for all of us, and none for the enemy, and then lure them in…”
“Enough of this!” Utgar roars. His fist again finds its spot on his throne, where a small cracked crater has begun to form over the years. The Valkyrie stands, scowling down at his many lieutenants, all of whom have failed him over the years. He grinds his teeth in frustration, “You all bore me. Marro, Orcs, Soulborgs, Undead, and even my own Kyrie… it’s clear that if any of you were going to win me this war you’d have done it by now. Instead your tired tricks continue to roll off our enemies without result.” He begins to pace, “I need something new… Something unexpected…”
“Water-Cloning!” Ne-Gok-Sa suggests.
“Get out!” Utgar yells at them all, “Except you, Taelord. Fetch me the Oracles. I need their insight.”
Utgar was never the superstitious type. He rejected the gods and valued his own strength only. But now he was willing to stoop to the mystical arts his tribe had once excelled in. If his own wisdom could not find a way forward, then he would have to contend with a little humility and try someone else’s.
A violet mist fills the throne room as the Oracles lay out their tools. Incense and wellspring water cast a blue glow, as the gray-cloaked Oracles gather around a purple flame and cast bones into it.
Taelord stands at Utgar’s side, shifting nervously as he watches, “I distrust these old crones, my lord.”
“I will do what I must for victory.” Utgar assures him. He watches the old witches studying the cracks in the bones, discerning their meaning, “What do the portents say?”
The Oracles face the Valkyrie. “Bad news, I fear.” They say, cackling, “The future says: ‘Love conquers all’. Only Love will grant you victory, General.”
“That is bad news.” Taelord says, “You don’t love anything, my lord.”
“I love myself.” Utgar reasons.
“But how’re we supposed to get all of Valhalla to love you as much as you—er, as much as
I do, lord?”
The Valkyrie crosses his arms, “How indeed…?”
Ne-Gok-Sa pokes his head into the chamber, “Mindshackling, your grace!”
The lead Oracle flares her haggard wings, raising her staff and silencing all the others under her shouting voice, “Quiet!” She clears her throat and continues, speaking to Utgar, “Listen, m’lord. Self-obsession is not Love. Love is a selfless sort of thing. Why, I once cared for an abandoned Thetsu cat that had been left out in the rain. Even though I had no cause to do so, and it was a wild thing that tried to claw me, not understanding the very idea of affection. I fed and bathed and cared for that dear little cat, and made it the cutest little kitty mittens, out of nothing but senseless love. Mind you I was a younger lady in those days, with no shortage of admirers hanging on the bell wishing to be suitors. And I did so make them want it, I suppose, haha… Young men these days seem so much more boring, poring over maps and talking about the war. Manners seem like a thing of the past, and we all used to fly so much more often…”
“
Yes yes, that’s great.” Utgar says quickly, “Now back to the task at hand. How can I possibly use something like selflessness to conquer the world?”
Taelord nods in morose agreement, equally stumped, “Well I suppose we should start with some self-reflection: like what it really means to be selfless. Can any of us here grasp that sort of thing? We would really have to start with recognizing what we’ve been lacking all along, and can people as evil as us even stop and do that?”
“Shut up, Taelord.” Utgar says, grasping an idea, “The old hag’s right. Suitors. Why didn’t I think of it before? We’ll summon a bunch of succubui and the Alliance will be too love-struck to stop us. Love: it’s genius, really.”
His lieutenant frowns, “Brilliant idea, my liege. I—I don’t know what I was thinking.”
Thus Utgar’s newest evil plan was hatched. If the prophecy was true then only Love would conquer all. Utgar just needed to summon it. The throne room was cleared and fresh wellspring water was brought in.
“Stand back, all of you!” The Red General shouts at all his advisors and lieutenants. He spreads his arms and begins the conjuring rite, reaching deep into the cosmos, “Love…! Love…! Give me love! I grasp now through all space and time. Give me what I seek!”
Taelord watches nervously. “I don’t know why…” he mutters, “But I have a bad feeling about this!”
“Of course you do.” Replies Cyprien. He is back and feeling better, though he is still clutching a bucket of Nagrub legs and nibbling on one, “What does Utgar know about love? He’s got no clue what to search for. Had only I been there to advise him…”
Ne-Gok-Sa nods, “Ah, I see! Because you’re married!”
“What’s that got to do with anything?” Cyprien yelps and lighting sparks in the air, “Watch out, my General! Something’s happening!”
“Something’s wrong!” Utgar shouts above the din. He glares into the wellspring water before him, “I should be summoning my succubi. Something is interfering with the portal!”
“It is the incense smoke!” The Oracle yells, “You summoned impatiently, before it could all dissipate. It is there, with your hands, in the water. Now who knows what kind of love you are summoning! Ah!”
A bright flash of light interrupts them all. Even Utgar is flung back, though he is quick to lift his head and peer at what he has wrought. There is only one figure standing silhouetted in the smoke: robed and humanoid.
What…? Utgar thinks in a daze,
What kind of love is this…?
Slowly the General staggers to his feet, flaring his great wings and beating them to rid the fog. “Who are you?” he shouts, “Reveal yourself to me, summoned!”
But it is only a normal human: pasty-white, tall, lanky, smelly. He wears a colorful robe, with tube socks and sandals. His long hair is braided, and he wears a headband and colored-sunglasses. “What’s up, my dudes?” he greets them all, “This a cool kind of place we got here.”
“Identify yourself!” Taelord orders, drawing his blade.
“That’s the sort of thing that takes a lifetime, brother.” The man says, “But the name on the old birth cert is Christoph Rumland. Just a man who goes where the road takes him, y’know?”
Utgar motions for Taelord to stow his weapon. He snorts and approaches Rumland, crossing his arms, “Usually a Summoned is more shocked to see Valhalla.”
“It’s wrong to judge. We’re all tripping together same as any other. I ain’t walked a mile in anybody’s shoes, y’know? That’s why they call them soles.”
“Whatever. Here’s the rub: I am Utgar.”
“Utgar. I am Ut if you are down.” Rumland says, extending a hand, “I am Chris Rumland, though you can call me CR ‘cause we are crit and lit, my N-word.”
“Stop talking. I am not your friend, I am your General. This is Valhalla, and you are here to help me win the Battle of all Time.”
Rumland nods while shaking his head, “There is only one battle, and it’s in our hearts.”
Utgar frowns, “I want to kill you very badly. But if the Oracle’s words are true, then you must be my ticket to victory. Win me this conflict, and you can have whatever you desire. Gold, fame…”
“Thank you, my dude. I’m usually, staying home from wars, y’know. But if you got what it bakes to win…” Rumland glances around, huffing the lingering smoke, “Whatever that is.”
“Oracle’s incense, for their visions. I suspect it’s what summoned you.”
“Hell yeah it is. You give me that incense and I’ll do whatever you want, brother. If they envision me imagine what I’ll envision them, y’know?”
Utgar throws his arms up, “Sure! Whatever! You shall have all the incense you desire. Taelord will see you to your chambers. Tomorrow he will drill you on what arms we have, and you will bestow your gifts and knowledge to my armies. That will be the first step toward the Alliance’s downfall.”
The Valkyrie watches Taelord escort the stumbling human out of the room. He grimaces, knowing it goes against everything he’s ever come to know about warfare. But all he can do is remain steadfast, assuring himself that everything he’s known has failed him thus far. He must now try the impossible instead.
No one comes to the war council the next day, not even the guards. Utgar storms furiously toward Rumland’s quarters, bursting into the room and finding all his lieutenants lounging about, “What’s going on?! It’s one in the afternoon!”
“Time is an hourglass.” Rumland assures him. The man is slumped on the floor, his legs slung onto the bed beside him. The scent of incense is heavy in the air, “What’s one will be one again, y’know?”
“Taelord!” Utgar roars, finding his lieutenant and yanking him to his feet, “What’re you doing? We have to get to work! The Alliance’s downfall, remember?”
His minion looks dazed and relaxed, putting one hand on the Valkyrie’s shoulder, “I listened to Rumland last night, m’lord. You know, the thing with downfalls… you’ll never get ahead if you spend all your life getting even, y’know?”
“What?!”
“That’s the other thing. The décor… all this skulls, the red and the spikes… It speaks to a pent-up negativity inside us all. It’s only compensation, Utgar, my brother…”
Utgar grasps the lieutenant’s neck, “Your skull will be red and on a spike…!”
“He’s right.” Ne-Gok-Sa chimes in, his words stumbling over themselves, “Utgar, when was the last time you spoke to your mother? I love you: it’s okay to say aloud. As a society we’ve become too afraid to open up.”
“Who is all this for?” Cyprien adds, “Can we really win this war if we lose ourselves in the process? Are you doing this for you, or are you doing it for the you that you only think is you, Utgar?”
DeathWalker 9000 stands unmoving in the corner, “<3 <3 <3 <3 <3.”
Utgar pushes his way past them all. “You!” he shouts, grasping Rumland and hoisting him up, “What’ve you done to my troops?!”
The human’s lanky limbs can not even begin to break Utgar’s grip, “Hey, man! It’s free speech, man! We were just talking, y’know?”
“Talking about what, you cretin?!”
“Life and stuff. You know. The world spins on an axis, devil man, but we don’t got to be that way. We’re all just drifting, but we don’t got to drift apart, y’know?”
Utgar stills his trembling hand reaching instinctually for his sword. “Love, my ass.” he growls, “I ought to drift that Oracle down the river!”
“You should listen to your friends, Ut.” Rumland suggests, “Love’s all we got, my brother. We’re all fightin’, when love’s the one language we all speak, am I right? Rainbows bend ‘cause they go all the way around the whole planet, y’know?”
It clicks. Utgar’s grip relents, and he stands up straight. “I understand.” he says, “I don’t understand a word you say, sir, but I at least understand how you’re going to help me win. You are the most loathsome, mind-numbing, imbecile I’ve ever encountered—but a stink bomb is supposed to smell, is it not?”
“Don’t know, I can’t smell no more.”
Utgar places his reassuring hands on Rumland’s shoulders, “Pay no mind to anything me or anyone else says. It’s all a bad trip, that’s all. Speaking of a bad trip, let’s go pay a visit to the Alliance. There’s all manners of colorful amazing creatures to see out there. In no-man’s land.”
The lands directly north of Bleakewoode were always engulfed with constant fighting: an endless supply of troops mingling at the borders of Utgar’s, Jandar’s, Ullar’s and Vydar’s lands. It was like a funnel to suck up most of all newly summoned forces, though a meat-grinder would be the more fitting analogy. Lots of losses, not much gains. It is here Utgar’s caravan rushes to, with the Valkyrie General himself and his newest summoned at the lead.
“Welcome to the battle of all time, buddy.” Utgar introduces the ruinous warzone directly ahead. He places his hands on Rumland, subtly urging him onward, “This is where the nastiest fighting is occurring. Dozens or more slain every hour, it’s
so sad! If only we could just set aside our differences and stop the fighting, y’know—
ahem! I mean, you understand?”
“Gosh and gee, Mr. U.” Rumland says, watching the carnage ahead, “All them arrows and explosions, it looks kinda dangerous. We might just get hit by a mortar shell, waltzing in there, y’know?”
“(If only we could be so lucky…!)” Utgar mutters. He perks up again, pointing, “But I think I saw a dinosaur up ahead. How neat! Why don’t you go scampering after it? Just think of all the friends you could meet, it’s delightful!”
“Man, you are a might scary when you’re trying to be nice, Mr. U. But I’ll do anything for that incense.” With that, Rumland walks forward. He looks terribly out of place, climbing over the barbed wire and slain Marro and casually hiking on ahead into the warzone, “Tell the lads I’ll be back sometime. We were gonna astral project sometime, y’know?”
“Yes, yes, that’s great.” Utgar says, wringing his hands together. He whirls once Rumland is out of sight, “Taelord!”
He startles at the overclose minion right behind him, “Here, m’lord!”
“Jesus! Why do you fly so quietly?” Utgar wheezes, struggling to recollect himself, “Tell me: are you still in the stupor that pretentious wizard cast over you?”
“Yes, General. I heard the heartbeat of the planet this morning. It was beautiful.”
The Valkyrie huffs impatiently, “Well find some way to clear your head! I nearly lost my entire army to that nonsense, trying to grasp my new sword by its blade.” He smiles evilly and glances back to the battlefield, “Now it hurls toward the heart of the Alliance.”
“I’m unsure if this is wise, m’lord. I still believe the meaning of love evades us. We’re losing, and we’re losing because evil never triumphs. And we’re evil because we act evil, General. Instead of acting cold, if we found what makes us warm—”
“Marshal our forces!” Utgar barks, cutting him off, “Call for a general retreat here. While the enemy is yapping like you are, we’re going to make some gains.”
While all of this is happening, the forces of good are active on the opposite end of the battlefield, doing what they are always doing: fighting and winning and bantering.
“A fine hit!” Jandar says as he watches his Sentinels from a distance. All are formidable warriors, but none so strong as his son Kandar. The Blue General applauds, “If Utgar’s troops weren’t so repulsive you’d have many a trophy to remember them by.”
“Thank you, father.” Kandar says as returns, golden hair billowing as he flies, “I owe it all to Raelin’s protection.”
“You are too kind.” Raelin says. She yanks her spear out of a killed DeathStalker before flying over and bowing slightly, “Glory is rarely earned alone. But speaking of loners, wherever did Drake go?”
“I’m here.” Comes the human’s voice as he soars through the air on his grapple-arm. He lands hard, straightening up and immediately lighting himself a cigar, “Could’ve cut my way deeper into the enemy ranks, but I was startin’ to get lonely.”
Kandar laughs and points at Drake with his hammer, “About to be surrounded, more like. You’re lucky to have friends watching your back.”
Cigar smoke clouds Drake’s face as he laughs loudly, “I weren’t surrounded! I just thought I’d leave a few scraps for you to duke it out with, Junior!”
“You belittle me, sir! Why don’t we settle this with a little bout, once Utgar’s forces are vanquished!?”
“A duel?” The Sergeant can’t resist smirking, “You’re on!”
“Wait!” Raelin says. She peers into the distance, “Someone is coming! And it looks like Utgar’s forces are retreating!”
It gets Jandar’s attention. “Utgar would never dare to forfeit these lands so close to his border.” he says, squinting, “Who is that figure…?”
Drake scowls as he looks, “Some robed guy… Looks almost Christlike from here!”
“And driving Utgar’s forces away?” Kandar says, “Could it be… A messiah of some kind?”
In the distance Rumland walks to the very center of the battlefield. He shouts to all around him, those still locked in combat as well as those bordering the fray: “Everybody! Listen to me! Stop fighting!”
Gradually the din of warfare and clanging of arms dies down. Alliance troops and the Utgarian forces who haven’t pulled out yet glance to the robed figure in shock and curiosity.
“Stop fighting!” Rumland continues, “You’re all trying to win, man. But love wins. Love wins, y’know? So love yourself, and love each other.”
“Who’re you?” One of the soldiers, a knight of Weston, demands, “What power have you, to tell us what to do?”
“The universe.” Rumland answers, “The power within, man. The power within!”
Murmurs ripple throughout his audience. Men nod and weapons fall clattering to the ground. All gather around the newcomer, soaking in his wisdom.
Drake watches from afar, teeth gnawing his cigar with uncertainty, “What the hell is this…?”
“Drake, I’m scared.” Raelin says.
Jandar too watches warily. “What new devilry is this?” he ponders, nodding to his son, “Kandar, fly to this… strange messiah. See what it is he wants.”
“As you wish, father.” Kandar spreads his wings and takes flight, soaring through the stilled battleground. He lands close to Rumland and approaches, holding forth his hammer, “I represent the General Jandar, leader of the Alliance. Tell me, sir, are you good or evil?”
“Good? Evil? They’re just words, y’know.” Rumland tells him, “I’m human, and so is he, and so are you.”
Kandar frowns, puzzled, “…I see… Will you allow yourself to be taken to the Alliance? Jandar will host you in his Fortress of the Archkyrie, for questioning, if you indeed mean no harm.”
“Cool… sky castle…”
“Is that a yes or a no?”
“It’s a maybe, dude. Long as you got incense, I am so there.”
And so, Jandar accepted the newcomer into his territory. But this would prove to be a terrible mistake, as the Blue General was about to find out. Rumland’s insidious influence would spread much farther than just that one battlefield, as he was exposed to more than just the lieutenants—the results of which Utgar had beheld himself.
“What is going on?” Jandar thunders as he strides down his vacant castle hall. No guards at any posts. He storms into his throne room, “Drake, Raelin…? Where are you?”
The two are present physically, though neither answer the General. Drake sits on the throne itself, looking vacant and giggling like a schoolgirl as he braids Raelin’s hair.
Jandar stomps over, “There you are. Why aren’t you in Anund, Sergeant?! An outpost there just permitted an entire battalion of Marro to enter. An entire battalion! The enemy ran off with countless supplies and intelligence! You were supposed to be there!”
Drake lifts his head, “I was, man!”
“‘Man’?” Jandar watches his most valuable soldier suck on a strange device, “Is that a vape pen? What’s happened to your cigars, or you for that matter?”
“Smoking is bad for you. Anyhow, Christoph and I thought the joint in Anund wasn’t really vibing. It was dour, y’know?”
“
You let the enemy in?!”
Drake shrugs, “Everything’s always battlements and gates with this war of yours, J.”
Raelin nods, “If you keep everything closed, how are you going to let anyone in? Into your heart?”
Jandar reels, “What has happened to your valor and your bantering? This is Rumland’s doing! Where is he?”
Next enters Kandar, lacking his shirt and looking like he hasn’t showered in days. “Yo Drake!” he calls, “Ready for some volleyball? I know it’s below freezing outside—we’re gonna make it work.”
Jandar is quick to grasp his arm, “Stay yourself, son! What is wrong with you? And where is that vile hippy?”
“You’re not the boss of me,
Dad! I ain’t selling out my bud to a warmonger!”
“Warmonger? I’m trying to protect Valhalla!” Jandar groans and whirls to leave, “I’ll find him myself! And put a stop to this before Utgar takes over!”
Drake and Raelin watch the General storm off, shrugging, “Bro, your dad’s kind of a fascist.”
“I know.” Kandar says, shaking his head shamefully, “Speaking of which, Drake, you remember way back when I said I wanted to duel you? I’m sorry, man. That was toxic.”
Jandar knows that all of Valhalla will fall if the Fortress of the Archkyrie is ever taken, and thus he knows exactly where to go. From the top of his keep the Blue General flies down to the main gate, knowing that’s where the enemy will strike. He finds it already open, with Rumland standing there chatting to all the enraptured Jandarian soldiers. They stand by and do nothing as countless Marro and orcs walk in and make off with all the gold, weapons, and glyphs at their leisure.
“Stay this madness!” Jandar shouts as he lands. He walks over to the crowd, shoving Sentinels and knights aside as he makes his way to the center, “Stop!”
He is unable to interrupt Rumland’s lecture, as the human rambles on: “All of life is bilingual, y’know? Cause like, there’s what you say, and what you mean, and what they hear. That’s what keeps us apart, y’know? Really you gotta have three ears: you gotta use the one in your heart, man.”
The troops nod, “That’s so deep.”
“Everyone! To arms!” Jandar protests loudly, “Utgar’s soldiers are in the courtyard! Look all around you! Shut the gates!”
“Don’t panic, man.” Rumland assures him, “I know it’s hard to lower the drawbridge once it’s up, man. But you’ve got to build bridges, not borders. Not a drawbridge kind of bride, but like, a suspension bridge. What’re other kinds of bridges out there? I can’t recall.”
“Shut up!” Jandar roars, “Please for the love of Odin, stop talking! Someone please make it stop!”
“The only way it stops is if you surrender everything!” Utgar says, proudly sneering at his defeated foe. He and Taelord walk over to the crowd, “How do you like the
vibes of my new weapon, Jandar? Make love, not war—that’s what I say. Can’t have a war if all the enemies aren’t willing to fight, hahaha!”
Jandar scowls, “This is low, even for you!”
“Huh? What was that?” Utgar points to his ear, visibly plugged, “My men and I are a little hard of hearing around Rumland, you see!”
Taelord nods and holds up a sign reading KEEP GOING, TAKE THE REST to the Utgarians.
“Argh!” Jandar’s fury is palpable, his brow furrowed red with hapless rage, “By all the gods of the cosmos, I will make you pay for this blasphemy, Utgar!”
Rumland casually walks over, placing an assuring hand on the Blue General’s huge pauldron, “It’s all cool, blue Santa. Chill and chillax, Jan the man who cannot stand… me. Your problem is that you think you have problems. It costs nothing to smile, y’know?”
“Hahaha!” Utgar roars with victorious laughter, “I could not contrive a more fitting torture for you, Jandar! Why don’t you finally take a day off from your moral high horse and accept defeat? You’ll never stop my main man Chester.”
“It’s Christoph, actually.”
“Ah, whatever.” The Red General spreads his wings and takes flight, “I have a planet to conquer, if you’ll excuse me. Just how do you plan to stop me? A General without his army isn’t much of a threat, it turns out.”
Jandar shakes his clenched fists at his mortal enemy, “You’ll pay for this, I swear it! It may not be today or tomorrow, but one day! You hear me!? ONE DAY!!”
“He can’t hear you.” Taelord reminds him, taking flight and following his master. Jandar slumps to his knees, grinding his teeth in vain.
Jandar has only one choice. His entire force crippled, he is forced to make the perilous journey himself: to meet with a perilous hail-mary of an ally. He enters the dark abode of his host, waiting in a dim unlit foyer to be greeted.
“Thank you for coming with me, Ullar.” he says as he waits, “It seems us Valkyrie are the only ones unaffected by this dark messiah’s curse.”
“Indeed. My armies have also been decimated by his alluring words.” Ullar agrees, “Now my viper hordes refuse to go to battle. They say they want to take it easy and settle down rather than be sent in by the hundreds to die. It’s absurd.”
“That’s rough, buddy.” Jandar says nobly.
Ullar continues, “My elves have also been swayed by Rumland’s flowery words, which was a shocking blow. When I tried to force them to fight they said I was no more than a Jandar stooge, like I was just some puppet serving another General!”
Jandar tugs nervously at his collar, “That’s… that’s crazy.”
“Yes, well, what’s crazy is coming here of all places for help.” Ullar perks up as a shadowy silhouette approaches the two, “Crazy is thinking I’d ever see this face face-to-face again.”
“The two-faces around here are your two faces.” Vydar says, stepping into the light, “After all, last time I trusted you I lost an eye.” He points to his eye-patch, “See?”
Jandar frowns warily, “I do see.”
“Well I don’t! Not in the way of depth perception, anyway. You’ve got a lot of nerve showing your faces here, in my territory, without an escort.”
“I wouldn’t come here unless it were important.” Jandar insists, “Utgar’s forces are sweeping all across Valhalla. He’s pacified all Allied troops with some drivel-spewing human.”
“I know of whom you speak.” Vydar mutters, whirling and leading the way further into his keep, “The Unbathed One came to my lands not long ago, and his influence has destroyed much of my army.”
“There must be some way we can take him out.” Ullar says, “You out of all of us excelled at subterfuge. Isn’t there any way we can…
retire this man?”
“Oh, I’d much rather kill him.” Vydar says, “But his power is strong. Even my Soulborgs have fallen under his sway. Now they refuse to fight, and are petitioning for universal ports on all of them. Yesterday I saw Q9 wearing a flower-wreath on its head! It’s terrible!”
Ullar pales as if seeing a Shade, “If even the machines are vulnerable, what are we to do?”
“There is only one Summoned more heartless than the machines.” Vydar assures him, “I am of course talking about federal agents. I have many agents in my army. They are our last line of defense.”
The Gray General leads them into a cramped computer office, lit only by the blue LED screens plastered all over the walls. A single figure is seated in here, turning in his swivel chair to meet them with a steely visor glare.
“Agent Carr.” Jandar says, “So you’re the man of the hour, it seems.”
“I’m the man of every hour.” Carr assures him coolly, “I’ve heard talk about this cult of personality. Seems like quite the trendsetter. Utgar’s pulled out all the stops this time.”
“But can you do it?” Ullar asks.
“Sheet, I ain’t got no problem bumping off a leader. It’s what secret agents do. Who do you think were the ones who took out—uh—nobody?”
“This isn’t nobody, sir.” Jandar says, crossing his large arms, “This is Christoph Rumland.”
Carr shoots up standing at the name, startling even Vydar. “Christoph Rumland…?” he stammers, “As in…
that Christoph Rumland?”
Jandar and Ullar exchange confused glances. “Yes?” Jandar says, “Yes, that one.”
“You aliens wouldn’t get it.” Carr says, slumping back down in his chair. He swivels back around and begins typing furiously on the computers, bringing up page after page of newspaper clippings with shocking headlines and blurry black-and-white photographs, “I’ve only read about Rumland, under
History’s Greatest Monsters. Back on Future-Earth, he’s the biggest bad you could ever think of.”
Ullar scratches his head, “At what point did you all agree to begin calling it ‘Future-Earth’?”
“In the Future. Anyhow, Rumland may look like any ordinary cracker-slacker you ever seen, but he ain’t like nobody else.” Carr’s bald brow furrows furiously as he grits his teeth, “Rumland comes from a long line of hippies believed to date all the way back to Diogenes. This powerful lineage was the perfect genetic breeding grounds for disaster. Rumland’s entire unwashed body bears a unique type of microscopic spore—something we called the H-Virus. It turns anyone and everyone Rumland comes into contact with into rambling Slacktivists unable and unwilling to contribute anything to society.”
“Dear God.” Jandar says, “Spores. Could it really be true?”
“It’s just a radical theory: one I happen to believe in.” Carr explains further, “Anyway, the entire global economy collapsed in Rumland’s time, before he mysteriously disappeared. For no reason at all, them kids didn’t want to work dead-end jobs or die in the conglomerate’s wars. They didn’t wanna do anything. The H-virus wreaked havoc on the entire planet. Only us federal agents were immune, leaving us to pick up the pieces once Rumland was gone: refounding and repopulating Future-Earth into the dystopia it is today, thank God.” His visor gleams with rage, “My grandpa always told me stories about those dark times. He said, ‘Son, if by whatever contrived means you’re given the chance to put a bullet into that sum’bitch’s head… do it!’ Well, fate always did have a funny way of saying its goodbyes.”
“Can you do it?” Vydar asks, “Subtly, that is. We dare not risk the wrath of his followers if we get too close.”
“Course I can. But it won’t come cheap, a job like this.”
“Do it or I’ll have your head, Agent!”
Carr sits up in his chair, “Oh, right. Force of habit, General. I got just the thing.” He stands and Ghost Walks through the chair and into the next room beyond. The Valkyries follow, finding the Agent rummaging through a weapons cabinet. He hauls out a huge future-rifle, “Check this: the Future-RMR 7900 laser sniper. This baby can ping a moving target at a range of 50 hexes. 70 if you got Height Advantage or Extreme Height Advantage. Just give me the shot, sir, and I’ll bag that monster.”
“You’ll have that shot.” Vydar assures him, “And we’ll put an end to this disaster.”
Jandar and Ullar exchange glances, wondering if the Agent’s words are true, and if he can really solve their problem before all of Valhalla falls.
Carr and the Valkyrie set up shop deep in Vydar’s territory, where Rumland has just been sighted. The Agent peers through his Future-rifle, while Vydar spots for him, as their target aimlessly ambles around in the far distance.
“Look at him, mingling with all my troops!” Vydar observes, “It makes me sick! Abandoning my war efforts after all the effort I went through summoning them! As if fighting for me wasn’t the very least they can do!”
Jandar nods, “It’s all Utgar’s doing, unleashing this upon us. If we don’t stop Rumland soon, there won’t be a corner of Valhalla unaffected by this malarkey.”
“I’d shake Utgar’s hand myself for giving me the chance to wipe out this bastard.” Carr says through grit teeth as he aims, “You ruined my planet, Rumland! I’ll never forgive you! I’ve dreamt of this moment since—”
“He can’t hear you from here.” Vydar interrupts, “Just take the shot already, if you have it.”
“Oh I’ve got it.” Carr peers through the scope. Down below he can see Rumland standing around, saying some nonsense about love and feelings Carr can’t hear to the all-too-malleable Vydar troops gathered around, “Nothing will stop me from putting you in the ground…”
Jandar and Ullar nod, “Finally someone unaffected! Now we can put this business to rest.”
“Yes, we can.” Vydar says. He frowns, lowering the binoculars, “Can’t we? Carr, fire.”
But now Carr is still. “Sir…” he begins, “I can’t…!”
“Why not?!”
Carr stares through the sniper scope, “It’s Dünd, sir… Dünd’s in the way!”
Vydar rolls his eye, “That stupid animal is short. Shoot over it.”
But Carr watches. There Rumland is, stooped down and rubbing his favorite Doggin’s ears. Dünd pants happily and licks Rumland’s face, its tail wagging. Tears roll down Carr’s cheeks, “Not my Dünd. Dünd’s a good boy… He always knows who’s good and who’s not… That can only mean… My whole life’s a lie, sir!”
Vydar groans loudly, “For Pete’s sake! Get it together, man!” He grasps and shakes the sobbing Agent, unable to make him fire. The Gray General finally flares his wings and kicks Carr out of the way, “Fine! I’ll do it myself!”
He drops down and assumes the firing position with the rifle, firing laser after laser. Most fly well over Rumland’s clueless head, while others strike the ground meters away. Jandar and Ullar watch in awkward silence.
“No…!” Vydar rasps. He hangs his head, “I can’t do it either! I have no depth perception! NOOO!!!”
Jandar shuts his eyes and shakes his head, “So, this is the end for Vydar.”
Ullar can’t disagree, “Even Carr was undone by his love for Dünd. It seems like nothing can stop Utgar’s new weapon. It’s all over.”
Jandar racks his mind-palace brain for more ideas on how to possibly stop Rumland. But there’s nothing he can think of. Nothing to stop Rumland anyway. He lifts his bearded head, eyes snapping open, “Wait! Ullar, repeat what you said.”
“It’s all over.”
“Further back.”
“It seems like nothing can stop Utgar’s new weapon.”
“Even further back.”
“Even Carr was undone by his love for Dünd.”
Finally Jandar nods, “I don’t know if I believe the spores thing, I’m going to be frank. But I do know this: we don’t have a way to stop Rumland. And I also know this: if Utgar wants to weaponized our love, then I say we let him!”
Ullar scratches his head, racking his not-so-mind-palace for answers, “You
don’t want to stop Rumland?”
“Utgar has elected to use a weapon most unlike him.” Jandar narrows his eyes, “And at last I say: if you can’t beat ‘em, join ‘em…!”
Utgar and his posse stand at the edge of the Volcarren Wasteland, peering to the sprawling jungles beyond making up the Xualtiaca peninsula. The Red General places his hands on Rumland’s shoulders, urging him forward, “See that? The Ticalla Jungle is the last corner of Valhalla unenlightened by your presence.”
Christoph nods dumbly, “Oh, sweet. I love tequila.”
“Oh, how wonderful.” Utgar shoves him forward, “Off you go. I’m certain Aquilla would love to have you. You can sing Kumbaya with all her Indian friends. Or get eaten alive by bugs. Who knows, we shouldn’t try to control our futures!”
“That’s right, Ut. And you know I have a beautiful respect for American Indian cultures, just living off the land. They were in Valhalla first, you know.”
“Stop right there!” Comes Jandar’s voice. He and Ullar descend from above, landing in the molten clearing and approaching Utgar, “There’s no need for further violence.”
Utgar faces his enemies, “I wouldn’t dream of violence! Don’t you know we’ve all turned over a new leaf, heh heh…!”
“I’m well aware!” Jandar huffs boldly, “Love conquers all, isn’t that right? Well, Ullar and I have come to agree with your new sentiment. Rumland is right—we should all just be friends, even with you, Utgar.”
“That’s right.” Ullar agrees, “We like you.”
Jandar holds out one muscular arm, proudly grasping a cluster of parchments in his hand, “I have here the deeds to all my lands and castles. They’re yours now, Utgar. Congratulations, you’ve won the war.”
Utgar frowns as he reluctantly accepts them. His war-wary mind struggles to think of this as anything other than a trap, “Oh… well, uh, thank you! That’s good to hear!”
“You bet it is.” Jandar says, “We all think you’ll make a great leader of the entire planet.
Isn’t that right, Rumland?”
Christoph takes entirely too long to manage two thumbs up, “That’s rockin’, my dude. Maybe now your outer peace can gelatin with your inner peace, stop bein’ and stop seein’ all red all the time, y’know?”
“Oh, good.” Utgar glances about at all gathered around him, “Maybe. We’ll see.”
The Red General has officially won the war. However, he cannot help but feel a strange sort of apprehension. After all, he hasn’t thought much about what he was planning to do next…
Utgar is woken too early the next day. He feels Rumland poking him and sits upright abruptly, “What? What is it?” He sees Jandar and Ullar there too, immediately clutching his bedsheets, “What’re you all doing in my chambers?!”
“Salutations, devil man.” Rumland explains, “We were gonna go watch the sunrise together. It’ll be a soul-cherishing moment, y’know?”
“That’s right.” Jandar says, “Healthy male bonding is essential in any group of friends, isn’t it?”
“Put down your walls.” Ullar agrees.
“Out of here, all of you!” Utgar bellows.
“It’s okay to be angry.” Rumland assures the Red General, “It’s also okay to be sad, y’know? If you’re holding on to all that negative energy, you’ll never let it go until you learn to unclench your hands, y’know?”
“No, Rumland.” Jandar says, “No, I don’t think he knows. But we’ll break down those harsh exteriors and get to that soft gooey side eventually. After all, love conquers all, doesn’t it?” He narrows his eyes as he speaks, glaring sinisterly at Utgar.
Utgar narrows his eyes back, “Well whatever. I’m the king of Valhalla, and I need my sleep! That’s that!”
“It’s all right. We’ll think about you, and I’ll paint you that sunrise my dude.”
The Red General lays back down, feeling like he’s lost all rest in the night already, “Ugh.”
As soon as Utgar is up again he quickly heads to the armory, finding his minions and Taelord there, “Fetch me a greatsword. I’ve just decided to hold a few executions.”
However Taelord shakes his head, “We melted down all the weapons, lord. Figured we didn’t much need them now that we’re in charge of everything, yes?”
“
WHAT?!” Utgar recoils, “And what pray tell did you need so much metal for?”
“Mood rings, for the whole army, sir!” The Kyrie Warrior proudly displays the colored band on his finger, “Mine says I’m Calm. We made one for you, sir.”
Taelord hands Utgar a ring, though it sizzles and glows red in the General’s open palm like an egg on a hot stove.
“Oh…” Taelord notes, “That color says you’re quite angry, m’lord.”
“Do you need to vent, General?” The Minions offer, “We can be a shoulder to lean on, sir.”
“Idiots!” Utgar growls, “Don’t let Rumland or Jandar back into the castle. Clearly the Blue General means to destroy my army the way I destroyed his. Well it’s too late—I already rule this world, and that’s not about to change!”
Utgar grumpily heads into his throne room, summoning his lieutenants to discuss his next moves. However he is not much pleased with the schedule they bring him.
“The first order of business…” Ne-Gok-Sa announces, “We’ll need to clear out the main courtyard of the castle to make space for the 3:00 bake-off. There’s just too many spikes in the current décor that might be off-putting to outsiders.”
Cyprien nods, “I’ll send the Mrs. to help with that. I’d do it myself, but my day’s full now that I’m the president of the new gardening club. Being dead’s no reason not to work on growing that green thumb, haha!”
Utgar runs two exhausted hands over his face as his subordinates laugh at the… joke? Everyone seems to be compromised. The Valkyrie groans loudly and sits upright, “What about my plans to rule the world? Aren’t we going to be killing anyone today?”
“Why would we kill anyone, lord? We’re not at war anymore.”
“Oh, right…” Utgar frowns, “I suppose that’s true. Proceed, then…”
He again slumps in his throne as his minions go on about the next book club or whatever. After awhile the General just quietly gets up and leaves the meeting, with nary a word of protest or even noticing from anyone. He exits into the hall and paces angrily, trying to find a target for his fury.
“Rumland…!” He says, “I’m going to wring his neck!”
The Red General exits his castle and takes flight. He soars through the air looking for his target, finding the man standing on a hill outside the fortress. He is doing some kind of yoga with Jandar and Ullar, Utgar diving down and landing with a ferocious thud before the three of them.
“There you are!” Utgar roars, pointing.
Rumland nods dumbly, “Ah, now it’s a party! I heard they made you king or whatever, you gotta like that, y’know?”
“I don’t have to like it!” Utgar cries, “Your brainrot has ruined my subjects! Now there’s nothing worth ruling over anymore! This is a meaningless triumph!”
Jandar only laughs, “What’s the matter, Utgar? Ran out of enemies to hurl Rumland at? Now it’s rebounded right back at you like the inevitable Kelda 1.” He gives the Red General a gritty grin, “See, as bad as it is I can still grow accustomed to this Valhalla you've inadvertently forged. But somehow I get the feeling you never will no matter how much time passes! Well, if you can’t handle this man’s way of doing things then you shouldn’t have summoned him.”
Utgar clenches his fists, “I didn’t mean to summon him! Smoke got into the wellspring portal! It was just an accident! You think I’d have summoned this imbecile willingly?!”
“Wha?” Rumland pauses, “You mean, like, it was all a lie? I thought we were buds, devilman.”
Utgar fumes, “That’s because you lack the most basic forms of perception! I hate you, I despise you, we are the most incongruent of life forms. If your every sense wasn’t clouded with ‘incense’ you’d have recognized that five seconds into meeting me! I am a monolith of hate completely opposed to your wishy-washy greeting-card philosophy of puddle-deep limp-dicked ‘peace’ and ‘love’, and hearing your voice come out of my troops makes me want to flay myself! Am I at last getting to you?!”
The hippy nods, “Words can be hurtful, dude. Cuts deep.”
“
GOOD!”
Rumland shakes his head, “Your anger bums me out, Ut. You’re mad, but, like, at yourself. I can’t vibe here any longer. See you, Jan and other green guy. May your auras be blessed.”
With that he rises off the ground and gradually flies upward into the heavens, disappearing between the clouds and leaving the three Valkyries alone together. Jandar steps forward, “Well, I hope you’re happy, Utgar. But somehow I doubt it. You see, peace can only be achieved by someone who can know peace. And love can only come from one who can love. I doubt you possess the capacity for either, that’s why you’ll always be unhappy.”
“Your first and last sentences contradict, my dear nemesis.” Utgar accuses, smiling, “I am in fact happy. Getting rid of that unusually smelly human is laying the first brick in the road that is my rule. You’ll see. Now I can issue my orders uncontested, and you’ll all know what it is like to live in my world, under my mighty heel! I’m the king! I say what goes!”
Ullar and Jandar exchange glances, “Well, we’re listening.”
“Yes…” The Red General bites his lip, thinking. He starts to speak several times, stopping himself to think further each time, “Uh, the first order of business… shall be…” He eventually shrugs, “I guess at some point we could build a big statue of me? To commemorate my terrible dominance of this planet?”
Ullar gives him a shrug in return, “All right. We could do that sometime. Anything else?”
“…” Utgar racks his brain further, only to finally grasp his head and take flight, “
It’s true! I can’t know peace! What the hell am I supposed to do?! Leave me!!”
The Red General flies off madly into the distance. Jandar faces his comrade, “I’d have thought he’d at least name a few cities after himself before snapping. Victory has defeated him. I suppose in a sense this is little different from an Alliance outcome. Utgar didn’t put much thought into the kind of triumph he was creating by using someone like Rumland. I hope everyone involved has learned a valuable lesson!”
“Yes…” Ullar nods, “…And which lesson would that be, Jandar?”
“…I’ve no idea. Anyhow, shall we finish up our yoga session? I do not wish to miss that bake-off later today. I’m told the Marro make mean lemon cakes!”
“Agreed!”
And so, the two Allied Generals continued doing their stretches, in the shadow of the castle—where the king of Valhalla’s throne would sit empty forevermore.