“Then we drive them away with extreme prejudice.” Abthot took a map of Jiera out of her dimensional amulet, marking the position of the Warp Gates and all the enchanted mines she remembered from her past stays in Jiera.
Once she was done, she passed the map to Orulm who did the same. Creatures as old as them had traveled Mogar multiple times during their lifetimes and mana geysers were an Eldritch’s best friend.
Even though back then they had no use for natural resources, a mine was the perfect place to hide and restore their strength while on the run from a powerful enemy.
The abundant flow of world energy sated the hunger of the Eldritches without leaving a trail of corpses or missing people reports that the Council and the Guardians could follow.
“Let’s start by checking up on mines that were already being mined before the plague.” Orulm said. “There’s no need to reinvent the wheel. If rails and carts are still in place, our men won’t have to rebuild the necessary infrastructures for the mining operations.”
“Excellent idea.” Abthot was pleased to see her partner make a valuable contribution to the mission. “It will save the Organization time and money.”
Alas, creatures that old had a skewed sense of the passing of time. Most of the mines they remembered had run dry or collapsed since centuries had passed from the last visit of time the two Eldritches.
The few mines that were still active were already occupied by either Abominations or monster tribes that had abandoned a tide to settle there. The former received an ultimatum.
They could join the Organization and oversee the miners’ security, go away, or fight and die. Empowered and Puppeteer Abominations didn’t dare face the Eldritches.Â
Even those who didn’t know Orulm and Abthot by name could still feel their power and were glad to join the Organization.
Eldritches, instead, were proud creatures set in their ways. They found the idea of serving someone repulsive and most of them walked away. No matter how confident they were in their battle prowess, fighting one against two was madness, no matter who the Eldritches were.
Fighting one against two Eldritches infamous like Orulm and Abthot was suicidal at best.
Monster tides weren’t a problem as well.
Unlike the undead, Abominations weren’t picky eaters. As long as someone was alive, it was a meal to them.
When a tide refused to move to a safe distance from the Organization’s future base of operations, all Abthot and Orulm had to do was to take a stroll amid the monsters’ lines until they found their leader and killed them.
Without their presence, the rickety order within a monster tide crumbled and the different tribes that comprised it turned against each other. At that point, the Eldritches didn’t have to lift a finger as the problem solved itself.
If a new leader rose from the chaos of battle, they were usually smart enough to not anger the gods/demons and join their predecessor in death. The Eldritches exploited the monsters’ superstition to ensure their loyalty and keep them exactly where they wanted.
“Why bother slaughtering them all?” Orulm explained his strategy to Abthot. “We have nothing to gain by solving Jiera’s crisis. If we did, the Guardians would have only the lost cities to worry about and sooner or later they would find a way to get rid of them.
“This way, instead, we are keeping the Jierans on their toes and leaving obstacles in the way of Garleners colonists. The longer they take to wipe out the tides, the longer we can mine for resources without anyone noticing.
“We must exploit the monster tides and the lost cities to create buffer zones that will hide our bases long enough to stockpile everything we need undisturbed. With a bit of luck, everyone is going to be so busy defending themselves that by the time they chart our mines we’ve stripped them of everything.”
“Wow. You are way smarter than you look.” Abthot whistled in admiration.
“When you get as old and powerful as I am, you get used to solving problems by brawns rather than brains, you runt. It’s easier and quicker.” Orulm grunted at the backhand compliment. “Just because I’m a bit off my game it doesn’t mean that I’m dumb.”
As they traveled through Jiera, they collected everything that had been left behind by the previous miners that could still be usable and checked the underground tunnels of the mines for signs of structural failures and cave-ins.
Years had passed since the plague and the lack of maintenance coupled with the monsters’ settling inside the tunnels had often caused significant damage. Mana crystals in their raw form were volatile and a single misplaced spell was enough to trigger a chain reaction.
Once the two Eldritches were done with that, they moved on to the final step of their mission. Finding the best position for a settlement where their human associates would reside.
There weren’t enough Abominations in the Organization to take care of the mining and even if there were, their corrosive touch would destroy the mana blades necessary to cut the crystals and ruin the magic metals simply by handling them.
It was the reason why Vastor was organizing a private group of “colonists” that after signing a waiver, would be free to leave the outposts. On paper, their goal would be to find a small town and cultivate abandoned fields.
Now that the famine was over, the Griffon Kingdom did not need extra food, but the same couldn’t be said for the outpost on Jiera. Darmoq couldn’t rely solely on import or at the first malfunction of the Transoceanic Gate the colonists would starve.
The technology was untested and problems had to be expected. On top of that, until the Kingdom located usable mines and started collecting resources, the entire colonization process was a net loss for the Royal Treasury.
The Crown could use a local source of food and cut some of its losses. On top of that, being a private venture, Vastor’s private venture of “farmers” would cause no further burden on the budget.
As for the Gorgon Empire, even without the famine, the harsh climate condition of the country made growing food a priority. The cities of the Empire were already forced to pay a share of their annual taxes with crops in order to feed the personnel of their prized flying fortresses.
One of the Master’s middlemen had already contacted the Magic Council, the Empire’s governing organ that elected the Magic Emperor and assisted Milea’s political program, and had received their enthusiastic support.
The private farms would serve as both watchtowers to warn the future Empire’s outpost of impending dangers and as an additional source of food until the Gorgoners had gained a foothold on Jiera strong enough to safely cultivate the land on their own.
For both the Kingdom and the Empire, these private companies were undertaking a high-risk high-reward gamble that would help the two countries in their endeavour in case of success and have no consequences in case of failure.
It seemed too good to be true and in fact it was.
