The Fey Conquest, # 20— "A Year of Jubilee"

[Short stories. Images generated by hotpot.ai. PENDING KICKSTARTER, see bottom for details.]

In the following weeks since the fall of the coven of the Cait Sith, for the first time there were volunteer recruits who flocked to Swain in considerable numbers. It was all taking place in the name of Liberation.

Things had never changed so quickly for the people of Iceglass. The Three Tyrants from Ivalice had already devastated anyone who was in their reach, and now that Swain’s army was going out of its way to extinguish the dark espers and their covens, those who suffered at the hands of these forces began to see Swain as a Savior.

Swain and his men did not originally intend to liberate the Fey Folk, but were instead encumbered by besting the other three Rune Lords: Morris, Dunbar, and Weez. Meanwhile, conquering the Fey Realm was a breeze compared to the bitter wars of Ivalice, and thus was a preferable mode of living. However, of the Separatists, Swain’s men had a measure of righteousness, and so despised the dark espers and their servants, nigh being willing to fight them even from sheer dislike. They were quite unlike the stagnant Fey Folk, who had learned to be helpless against the cabals that infected their realm.

Much of the Fey Folk were divided in the regions surrounding Swain, many still hating him as an interloper in their lands. Those who had swallowed their misery under the control of the covens would divorce their wives, abandon their property, disavow their espers, and even abandon their children at the chance to better their lives under Swain.

Those who hated Swain outnumbered his supporters in these areas, and proclaiming intent to join him led a number of Fey Folk to be stoned, flogged, mocked, and even sacrificed to their espers.

Twice, when there were reports of this, Swain would take a detour to burn the villages who murdered his supporters and seize their treasure, the least of which were not their espers, who left behind precious magicite when slain.

Curiously, not all the villages who hated Swain served dark espers, meaning those who murdered the defectors housed valuable espers— dark magicite was nearly useless, as the pain of receiving them as runes on the body was excruciating. Espers of comparatively benign character were much easier to bear, and with the combinations of enthusiastic recruits, steady progress in arming and training the Fey auxiliaries, and an increasing proliferation of runes, no single township could resist Swain’s army.

In the span of weeks, an additional thirty-five of Swain’s men had taken Fey wives, a few of them more than one. Forty-seven of the auxiliaries did the same. These had been married on two separate days, when Swain’s army rested and enjoyed a feast, which was possible due to the fact the towns that resisted him left them with more supplies than they could carry, and proportionally they looted more provisions than they received in levies and other captives.

But what astonished the warriors from Ivalice and likewise rejuvenated the spirit of the auxiliaries were that the Fey Folk were now routinely singing and dancing during their times of rest, and also on the march.

The Separatist knew marching songs and drinking songs, and a number of hymns reserved to honor Zakarum. The Fey songs were light-hearted and gay, songs of joy and celebration.

“O never, O never, O never again!

If I live to a hundred or a hundred and ten!

We will never, go back to, the way that it was!

Because, of all the, heroic things that he does!

“We went to, the Village of, the Swine to get by,

They feed humans, to piggies, that live in a sty!

But now I’m, not hungry, and I’m dancing a jig!

Swain conquered, the filthy, ole’ Town of the Pig!”

“O never, O never, O never again!...”

With this, the hearts of the soldiers from Ivalice softened, and during those weeks began clapping along, a few even joining the gaiety. Dancing was not a practice of the warriors, and for once the Fey were jeering and laughing at their captors, but also encouraging them and welcoming them.

“They see the fire of our whole camp where Swain’s vast army stays,

Their wicked gods just can’t be found, and I suppose they ran away!

The wicked run, Huzzah!

Our Savior stays, we’re free!

Well it must be time for Liberation,

And a Year of Jubilee!

Why it must be time for Liberation,

And a Year of Jubileeeeeeee!”

Swain never heard such extolling, never in the land of Ivalice, much less regarding himself.

Their Savior? It was a lot to live up to. Liberation? He never really thought of it like that. Did they still believe he was a Liberator if he would become king? Did they even know he was planning to claim the power of their Sovereign Esper for himself?

After acquiring new maps and with the help of his informants, he learned their path would be barred by the Fortress of the Golem, the first location with any serious defenses. For the first time, he felt what Numyst called the Heavenly Mandate, and though he worried about being pinned between the Rune Lord Dunbar and Golem Fortress, his spirit was lifted and he felt Zakarum was finally leading him to the future he hoped for. But being from Ivalice, he knew not what it was like. Whether it was the Fletcher or a Fortress, he would not be discouraged, and he began to have a paternal love for the grateful Fey that praised him.

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***PENDING KICKSTARTER REWARDS SYSTEM***

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