The Vampire & Her Witch Chapter 1655: Champions vs Soldiers (Part Two)

"So tell, Brother, how will we forge the champions we need if we cannot do it in the arena?"

Erna’s question was one that had haunted Aleser for weeks, and he was no closer to an answer now than he’d been three days ago when he started preparing for tonight’s disaster. Or rather, he was even more convinced now than he’d been then that they’d reached the limits of what the arena could offer them, and tonight’s disaster only proved his point.

But telling his sister that he was right because he’d failed wouldn’t get him anything but a scathing rebuke, if he was lucky.

"I don’t know, Sister," Aleser admitted. "A month ago, when we ordered the arena to host battles of ten men on a side, we saw glimmers of what you sought. Champions who could command their companions. Coordination triumphed over pure individual skill in seven of ten battles. The people cheered for these commanding champions, the bookmakers took wagers on which commander could lead their men to victory... With ten men on a side, it worked."

"It worked with twenty on a side," Erna pointed out, settling back on the warm cushions beneath her as she turned her gaze toward the towering marble statues of Champion’s Plaza that were coming into view. Caldis the Rain Bringer, Pristel the Blade of Judgement, and others whose stories echoed across generations came into view one after another, standing tall and proud and timeless.

Which ones of them could have inspired more than a dozen champions to follow them into battle on the sands?

"Twenty didn’t work as well as you might think," Aleser said. "The battles only worked because we combined two teams of ten, pitting four teams against each other. They broke into individual groups and essentially fought two battles at once."

"The crowd approved," Erna pointed out without taking her eyes off the statues. "They demanded more."

"The crowd favored novelty," Aleser disagreed. He’d spoken to several of the bookmakers about the things most people wagered on, and it wasn’t the outcome of the battle overall.

The people believed, correctly, that the first team of ten to fall would determine which side was victorious. They didn’t wager on who would win; they wagered on who would lose. It was a strange sort of novelty where the people who normally sought fortunes by attempting to discern which warrior on the sands was the strongest instead tried to determine who had the greatest weaknesses.

That made the matches ’exciting’ in an entirely different way, but the cracks had already begun to show.

"The people want a champion to cheer for, Sister," Aleser repeated, returning to his central point. "They don’t praise the superior turtle. This is why fighters who wear heavier armor than their foes only win praise by overcoming tremendous disadvantages. Simply outlasting your opponent or taking advantage of the opportunity someone else won for you isn’t enough to earn the adoration of the crowd."

"It doesn’t matter if the crowd loves the people who defend them," Erna said. "For a century, no one has respected Auntie Nyrielle, but she’s kept her people safe behind her walls of stone. Her soldiers fight and bleed for her people, but her farmers haven’t been driven from their homes since she retook the Vale of Mists. She’s buried no children."

"I know," Aleser said, nodding his head in acceptance. "There’s glory in their victories, even if our people have never understood it. You’re right that there will be plenty of glory to be found in the battles to come, and our people should have a share of that glory. The songs of fallen soldiers are different than the songs of arena champions, but we must learn to sing them if we’re going to inspire our greatest warriors to participate in the battles to come."

"But the arena is not a soldier’s battlefield," Aleser insisted. "No matter how much it resembles one. There is nothing to protect, nothing to acquire, and nothing to unify fifty men into a single cohesive whole."

Tonight’s battle had been something the arena had never seen. Fifty men on each side, all fighting at once. Aleser had selected the participants personally, taking ten of the best teams of ten to emerge in the past month and forming them into two ’armies’ to clash on the sands. He’d given them three days to plan and prepare for what should have been the first taste of ’war’ that the people of the High Fen would ever see.

The result, however, had been profoundly disappointing.

Rather than form into a single unified force, the battle had turned into a grand melee where even the units of ten broke down. It was every man for himself, and some gladiators even attacked people who were on their own side in the confusion as the chaos took hold.

Other men found ways to avoid battle, lurking behind stronger champions so they could emerge later, still fresh, while others were exhausted. There was no glory, only cunning, and the people who looked like they would ’win’ were the least accomplished among the gladiators on the sands.

Worst of all, the crowd began to disperse before the battle even ended. For the first time in recent memory, the people grew so bored, frustrated, and disgusted by what they saw happening on the sands that they left rather than stay to witness the outcome, and they left in droves, even if it meant forfeiting their wagers.

"Her Dominion says that humans field armies of hundreds and even thousands of soldiers," Erna said, turning her full attention back to her brother. The champions of the past couldn’t help her now. They were the wrong sort of heroes to face the battles ahead. "If we can’t manage to get fifty to fight as one, how will we manage hundreds?"

"The Eldritch nations east of the mountains had plenty of strong individuals," Erna reminded her brother. "They fell to the human armies and their mastery of ’warfare.’ Auntie Nyrielle has taught her people to fight in this way, and they claim victories even without her help or her progeny. How can we do the same?"

"Her Eternity’s people fight to defend their homes," Aleser pointed out. "They fight for something beyond wealth and glory. I spoke with Her Eternity’s captain, Lennart, before they returned to the Vale. His men train together for months and even years to fight against humans. They practice as units, wear uniforms that enhance their sense of belonging... He said that new recruits must earn the right to wear their lady’s colors, and it’s a mark of pride to be seen in them in the Vale."

"It’s the opposite of what our champions want," Aleser sighed. "From top to bottom. We are all warriors, but they are soldiers with captains, and we are gladiators with champions. We aren’t the same, and today makes that very plain."

"I see," Erna said, nodding in understanding. "I haven’t given them a reason to abandon their old ways for the new. I understand what we’re fighting for, but they clearly don’t. We need to teach them. We need to give them a reason to band together as one."

"We’ll try again in a month," Erna declared. "Between now and then, I expect you to capture the loved ones of every gladiator participating in the next battle. Bind them in chains at opposite ends of the arena. Reward any gladiator who kills a captive with a purse full of silver... Will that ’motivate’ them to unify? Will they understand what’s at stake then?"

"Sister, you can’t!" Aleser protested, rising up off the cushions with enough force that he shook the boat. "If you make a champion kill an innocent, the people will revile him. No one will cheer for him ever again. And if you place a champion’s family on the sands and force him to defend them, even if he wins, he’ll never fight for you again!"

"Then find a better answer, Brother," Erna snapped. "Find it and find it soon," she said. "Because I do not intend to let the Vale of Mists fall when the humans send their next ’Crusade’ against Auntie Nyrielle. Our champions will become our soldiers, and we will fight side by side with the Vale of Mists."

"If they cannot master these skills, then we will have to make up for their inadequacies by sending two, three, or even ten times as many men," Erna hissed. "The arena will stand empty because there will be no one left to send, and there will be no statues built to honor our fallen because no one will respect men who threw their lives away for foolish pride."

"You have a month, General Aleser, to find a better way," the High Lady of the High Fen said, speaking as though the words themselves had been carved in stone. "If your next demonstration isn’t a significant improvement, then we do it my way."