To create a swarm of locusts

A/N: Pardon the long absence, writer's muse for this story left me for a while, but I'm back albeit with sporadic updates.

Alamum was a small city, housing only five thousand citizens at most within its short and stocky walls. It was barely worthy of notice, yet the Hasoungan army besieged and conquered it regardless at Hoteac's orders, and its paltry citizenry awaited their fate with bated breaths.

"Are they going to kill us?"

"Oh Gods, please let my family live through this..."

The air of fear was palpable, and the stench of burning embers filling the young Dwarf's noses with a rancid stench.

It was a stench he hated to the core of his being.

Seated atop a podium used for speeches by the local governor - who died resisting the conquerors - Hoteac moved to address the mass of captured citizens before him.

"People of Alamum," Said Hoteac, voice rumbling like a volcano, "You are all free to go unmolested."

His words elicit gasps of surprise from the audience as they listen, and his own troops likewise were perturbed.

"Y-You aren't going to...?"

Turning to address the brave woman in the crowd, Hoteac said, "We're not barbarians. We don't do such acts of cruelty to the innocent citizens. You may take your families and friends, and all your belongings, and flee to safer pastures. Alas, I must take all the city's food stockpiles. War is war, after all."

"I-No, we're thankful for you sparing us!" Said the woman.

Hoteac nodded grimly, then said, "Go in peace."

And just like that, Alamum's citizenry left unmolested as per Hoteac's words, and by his strict orders that no harm befell the people.

"What the fuck is going on?" Said Claudia, "He has us all conquering this city and just leaving the people while taking their food?"

"I'm not so sure as you are," Said Hucimri, the woman cleaning her bloody battleaxe, "But I believe his true target was the citizens he just released."

"Is that so...?" Said Briolforn, "Then that means we're likely to siege the other cities on the path to Sorik."

"That we are, General Briolforn," Said Hucimri.

As the citizens left and the Hasoungan army made preparations for departure, a messenger rushed towards Hoteac, whispering into his ear and passing him a small wooden tube.

Hoteac opened the tube and read the letter within, and nodded with satisfaction.

"Generals," He said, "Burn it after you finish reading."

"Then, if I may," Said Hucimri.

The Dark Elf woman took one cursory glance, and her eyes narrowed as she nodded to herself, passing the letter around.

"Tell the men to increase the pace of their march," Said Hoteac, "And prepare to split into smaller armies; we must besiege the rest of the cities in our way and chase all their citizens east before we reach the city of Sorik."

"Aye, General!" Said Hucimri.

Claudia, on the other hand, was still left with doubts as to this strategy Hoteac cooked up, her eyes flickering in tandem with her warring thoughts and emotions.

Nevertheless, she carried out her tasks without complaint.

Along the northern shores of Yanikara, a city was burning as panicked citizens scrambled for cover. In the air, thunder rang loudly, heralding the next volley of explosives as they impacted on the city itself, sending bricks and stones and tiles flying, and in some unlucky cases, citizens caught in the crossfire.

From the seas a great fleet of ships bombarded the city, cannon fire ringing day and night without stopping. Eventually, the admiral gave the order, and the bombardment ceased, and ships docked at the ports to unload troops who streamed into the city, sparing civilians but killing any soldier who resisted.

From atop her ship, Oghash Gab looked upon the burning city of Sekiler dispassionately, reclining lazily on her chair as her captains performed their tasks. She glanced to the side, seeing the burning wrecks of ships - more her own than the enemy's - sinking beneath the waters.

"For a city, this is a grim price to pay..." She muttered, "Not only did we lose over a dozen ships, but the city itself is so badly damaged, it'll take months before we can truly use the ports."

Oghash sighed heavily, and she took out a wooden pipe and brought it to her mouth. She lit it, and puffed out rings of smoke, the pipe weed calming her nerves.

From a distance, a group of scouts looked at this with alarm, and quickly mounted their steeds and rode back, away and out of sight of enemy scouts.

"This does not bode well for us and Yanikara."

Within the war room of the Royal Palace of Sorik, three prominent people were gathered as were their aides, presiding over a table with a model recreation of Yanikara's lands. Scattered across the board were different tokens denoting the armies and navies of Yanikara and its invaders.

"Indeed, for us to be attacked in three different directions, they mean to stretch us to the limit."

Husam Akalin was an elderly man at fifty-seven, hunched over the map and leaning heavily on his walking cane. His body was like a shrivelled fruit, robbed of its sustenance to leave behind a skinny and wrinkly body that once held muscle. Dressed in fine robes, he was like a living fossil past his time.

"Fucking Hasoungans, they've come to finish us for good, I'll tell you all," He said, hacking a wet cough.

"Easy Husam, it's not good for you to be so angry."

Alpayer Yagmur, a young woman in the prime of her life, was dressed in fine attire designed for travel. Yet it was nothing ornate or decorated, a simple cloak around her shoulders. Wrapped around her head was a single headdress, decorated with Yanikaran script.

"How can I not be angry? This is the closest anyone's come to threatening the existence of Yanikara!" Said Husam, "And with the Empire of Kalgol in the picture, it'll take at least one of each of us Three Lions to hold each theatre."

"You are right, Husam, but remember that we are the Three Lions. Unbowed, Unbent and Unbroken, that is what we are, and what we always shall be, until our dying days."

Akarsu Selte, Aik-Serdar, or High-General of all of Yanikara's armies, stood tall and proud in his armour - golden-coloured plate over chainmail - the tabard of red displaying a half cresent moon and a lion on its right. Over his shoulders was a pelt of black fur, meticulously cleaned and maintained. At twenty-five years old, he was a handsome man with an angular jaw and blue eyes, and a sharp nose.

"Aye, that we are, and we nonetheless have a hard fight ahead of us," Said Alpayer, "These Kalgoli, curse these bastards, have displayed a lot more strength than we thought."

"Do not worry, we've gathered the bulk of our forces already, and we've the fastest steeds in all of Yanikara," Said Akarsu, "And they've gambled the entirety of their strength on this campaign. We destroy them here, we destroy Hasounga."

Husam grumbles angrily, saying, "If only our Sultana had the sense to oppose the nobles."

"That's just how she is, Husam," Said Akarsu, "Nevertheless, we've all got a job to do, and it's our task to finish it."

"My Lords!" Cried a messenger, "The invaders... we're getting swarms of refugees from the east!"

Everyone was puzzled by this, and Akarsu asked, "Messenger... where are these refugees headed?"