Baxavius Thynanium lived in a simple home on the outskirts of Iolonarium, the Cassid territories of Portalia. From his little house he could see both Port Chria and the Kilamia Mountains over in the Rethan territories. In the distance, the sun was setting, lonely rays scattering over the jagged mountains, many of which were topped with looming watchtowers. To the south, things were flatter, mostly ugly marshland that few Cassids cared about, save for the Aggelad shepherds. The forecast had threatened hailstones and lightning, but the nasty weather never materialized.
It was a vastly different respite from his home town of Calada, one of the many large, gleaming Cassid cities, but it was peaceful and there was ample space to perfect his unique fighting style. Ever since he’d signed up for the Dessaron Arena, he’d been learning new things every day, mostly on his own. His only forays into normal Cassid society were to get basic necessities. Baxavius did not enjoy company.
That day was no exception. After several hours of meditation had been interrupted by a pack of wild Stingyans rampaging across his back yard, Baxavius was in a vile mood. Now, he was sitting in his desk, trying to make some progress with his secret writing project. The solar fire place in the corner was just a little too hot and was breaking his concentration. In anger, Baxavius threw down his pen and headed to the kitchen/dining room to make himself some plain toast. A voice-activated toaster beeped into action, while a plate dispensed itself from the cupboard. With his toast made, Baxavius sat and sulked at the dining table, staring glumly at the three empty seats ahead of him.
When some bastard knocked on his door at 9pm, he was ready to hurt something, although he knew to restrain himself. With a sigh, he got up and wandered into the living room to see who it was. Being pitch black outside, with the rain starting to spatter down, he couldn’t tell, so he had no choice but to open the door.
“Hello, Baxavius, it is a pleasure to meet you.”
“Retvik Rethianos! Please, come inside!” Baxavius stuttered. Out of all the people who could have knocked on his door right now, the powerful, Deitic-murdering Rethan general was very low on that list. The rain suddenly picked up, and Baxavius quickly let Retvik in.
“I am sorry for intruding at such an untimely hour. The directions given to me were inaccurate.” Although the Rethan and the Cassid were of similar heights, Retvik seemed far more daunting than Baxavius, his heavy, spiked armour making him appear far more intimidating than his voice suggested. “Unfortunately, I also stumbled across a couple of… threats… on the way here. Were you aware that you were being watched?”
Baxavius panicked slightly, but Retvik raised one of his huge, clawed hands. “No fret. I have dealt with the issue…” The Rethan shrugged, then rested his large gun-staff against the wall, before removing the plating on his feet. He apologised for treading mud in, then walked into the living room and sat down on one of Baxavius’s armchairs. Baxavius followed.
“Would you like something to drink or eat?”
“No thank you. I promise I will not be here long…” Retvik unclipped a dagger from a sheath on his leg, then delicately placed it on the coffee table as Baxavius sat down. “Do you know what this is?”
Baxavius shrugged. “It is a dagger. A decorated Rethan dagger. You can tell by the jagged edges, as well as the circular holes cut into the main shaft to reduce weight.” He waited patiently for a reply, but Retvik nodded for him to continue. “Um… This one in particular is a General’s dagger, shown by the six gold stripes on the handle, as well as four studs, two on each side of the blade. Leather and gold leaf.”
Another nod. Retvik wanted him to say more apparently.
“Unlike other armies, you Retha have a six-level system. The soldier, who has three smaller ranks; the secondeer, the sergeant, the brigadier, the lieutenant and the general. In that order… What do you want, General?”
Retvik smiled, baring his upper canines, his eyes widening. He picked up the blade, twirling it around between his claws. “You are entirely correct, Baxavius. I must give you credit for your knowledge. But this dagger is special, not because of the rank, but because of its physical properties. You see, it is made of a particular metal. Worth a small fortune.” He then placed the blade on the coffee table once more.
Baxavius inspected the dagger again. “It is made of anti-Deitic silver?”
“Yes.”
The Cassid seemed confused and somewhat alarmed, not for the first time that evening. Anti-Deitic silver was the only metal capable of killing a god. It was also rather rare, only the Retha had the means to mine it out. Retvik leaned back in his chair, still baring those long teeth of his.
“Baxavius, do you know how to kill a Deitic?”
“You have to stab them in a vital organ with anti-Deitic silver. Unless you’re a god-killer like you.”
“Exactly. Only a small amount is required to get the job done, which is why most of the weapons I own are only tipped with the metal. Unfortunately, there are very few pure anti-Deitic silver metals in circulation. Many of them were destroyed after the Deitic War. Which was a mistake.”
Baxavius was still confused. He had no idea where any of this was going. Retvik had quickly picked up on that.
“I believe I should get to the point. While the Deitics, the Anexartitai in particular, may not be as prevalent an issue as they were two thousand years ago, they will always be a threat. They will always lurk in the shadows. Worse, they are creating beings that straddle the line between mortal and Deitic.”
Retvik paused, looking to his right, out of the window. He tensed up briefly, as the wind picked up outside, before relaxing again.
“There are only four of us, and we will not last forever. The Dessaron on their own are not enough to protect everyone. I have known this for a long time.”
“So what do you have in mind? An army?”
“Exactly.”
They both fell silent for a moment.
“Retvik, sir, you came all this way to tell me about an idea?”
The Retha stood up, his golden armour shining. He picked the dagger up off the table, holding it in his left hand. “No. Not an idea. I am bringing this Dessaron Army to fruition…” Retvik placed his right arm on Baxavius’s shoulder, lifting him up and keeping him firmly in place.
“You mean…”
“Shush. Do not speak, just listen. It has taken me many months to organize everything. Rethan law prohibits the creation of private armies, unless they are multi-racial, only to better all vok. The Dessaron need help protecting this universe from the threats of the undying menace. Via both observations from the Dessaron Arena and my own personal studies, I have been searching for vok who will help me lead the way.”
Retvik straightened himself up, standing strong and proud, his hand heavy on Baxavius’s shoulder.
“Baxavius Thynanium, will you serve under my rule, as a general of the Dessaron Army?”
A pause. The Cassid smiled, a small, almost childish grin.
“Yes. Yes, I will…”