"Where are you taking us?" a reporter who looked like he was of European or American stock asked anxiously.
He didn't start shouting about human rights. Everyone here had already seen that such "rights" did not exist in this place; any "war correspondent" who tried to cause trouble was dragged off on the spot, and no one knew what became of them. There hadn't been public executions or beheadings, but anyone could guess with their toes that the outcome wasn't good. The soldiers here kept their mouths shut; no one would reveal even a scrap of information. But after days of embedded reporting, after seeing the resistance's equipment and the makeup of its soldiers, these war correspondents understood that the Latovinian civil war was not the same as what they'd seen in the Middle East.
The technological level of those super-heavy tanks and assault transports alone surpassed many countries in the world, to say nothing of a special army made up of Latin, African, Asian, Slavic, and other ethnicities from across the globe. It all pointed to a larger group pulling strings behind the war. The more experienced correspondents immediately thought of a proxy conflict—some nations using Latovinia to test weapons and expand influence. If they saw the Honor Guard, what they imagined might be even broader and more frightening. Aside from a handful who wanted to dig out the truth, the rest wisely kept quiet. They were war correspondents, not soldiers or spies.
"Do as you're told and you won't die," the soldier said with a grin. He pointed at the military police filing over to keep order. "Don't waste time. The higher-ups have something they want you to see!"
By the time the assault transport skimmed over the royal city's canopy of black smoke, Victor von Doom was already leading the Latovinian resistance into the streets with his staff in hand—troops carrying recoilless weapons and tasked with clearing firepoints pushed into the alleys at top speed to seize positions; tracked armored vehicles fitted with dozer blades cleared rubble and mines while covering troops establishing mortar pits and squad heavy-bolter nests, and likewise shielded assault teams hitting the enemy's major firepoints; light APCs fanned out into surrounding streets, using twin-linked heavy bolters bolted to the hull fronts and coaxial machine guns to suppress royal guards concealed in buildings, helping the resistance take every house; finally, super-heavy tanks advanced steadily along lanes already opened, hurling shells and lasers at incoming blocking fire, their thick reactive armor and overwhelming guns locking down the main avenues from the royal city to the castle.
Thanks to recon work that had guided rocket bombardments and assault-transport strikes, by the time the resistance entered the city, the royal guards' heavy weapons and armor were almost gone. Many threw down their guns and surrendered as soon as the shooting started, and Victor von Doom had to leave several squads behind to guard them and escort them out to keep them from making trouble. At the same time, another batch of troops had to remain to guide civilians to safety—everyone the Exemptor elites hadn't found finally came pouring out.
The battle moved very quickly, even with Victor von Doom deliberately slowing the pace to avoid casualties from haste. With the Undying City's heavy firepower and elite troops trained around the world, barely half an hour later he had crossed a city of rubble to reach the castle, now reduced to gravel. The guns were tapering off. Aside from the resistance they'd met at the first breach, the rest of the advance could be called smooth sailing. The closer they got to the castle, the smoother it went. Rank among the royal guards seemed inversely proportional to morale. Whether it was Molotov cocktails, IEDs, or hostage attempts, everything was solved in a blink by girls in black power armor falling from the sky, their iris-and-rose heraldry bright—The Sisters would not miss any war launched by their lord; they would always stand at his side. Everything was proceeding by the book; every firepoint and pocket of resistance lay within the calculations. To Victor von Doom, this was less a siege than an armed procession, or a math problem written in blood and shellfire—and his superior had already produced the optimal solution.
Solomon, in gold power armor, had been waiting there for some time. The Latovinian royals, in expensive finery, were grimy and kneeling on the shattered flagstones. In front of them was a large crowd of soldiers in royal uniforms. They knelt on white leaflets from the Undying City scattered over a floor of blasted brick—hands on their heads, knees bloody—while their guns, air-defense missiles, and advanced armored vehicles lay tossed in designated piles. Prisoners by the hundreds were under the control of white-haired girls in black power armor and deep red cloaks and of Exemptor squads in black ballistic shells. Within two hundred meters, every royal guard had surrendered. This was the awe and fear they'd won with chain-swords and heavy bolters rammed into the heart of the royal guard; more than a few girls' armor still wore stinking scraps of flesh.
The Honor Guard stood beside his lord, looking helpless.
It was Hammurabi's first contact with the Sisterhood. Previously he had only known that the Undying City had such an all-female armed formation. Commander Tita had told Constantine something she now repeated to Hammurabi as well. Even Hammurabi had to admit she was right: the Honor Guard needed the Sisterhood to secure the area and head off any attempt on their lord's life. They had not stayed at Solomon's side. He had entered the city ahead of everyone—and been the first to finish his fight.
Only then did Victor von Doom notice the corpse at Solomon's feet, torn in half by a bolter blast. It was an elderly man with a look of terror on his face, exactly matching the intelligence they'd picked up outside the city—the black sorcerer. Outside the collapsed castle was a breach blown outward; beneath it lay a bottomless tunnel and chambers. No one had seen Solomon's supernatural battle; even the royal guards had only witnessed the golden figure order the royals to their knees—and then they all surrendered, because those who didn't were dead.
Victor von Doom stepped forward to stand beside Solomon, and the scarred face beneath his iron mask broke into a smile. Solomon nodded, planted his longsword point-down, and faced the armored columns and the masses of soldiers below, who held deep red standards bearing the eagle. His voice carried a hard-to-describe passion. Whether prisoner kneeling, resistance fighter gripping a laser long rifle, or civilian herded into the square—if they were alive, no matter what their native tongue, even if they didn't understand such perfect Latin, they could still grasp every word he spoke.
"This is the first step in liberating Latovinia. From this day forward you will devote your lives to a far greater cause."
He needed no explanation of who he was. In every heart, he was the perfect image.
Though Dragan, Novar, Milos, and Tiana had been positioned on the formation's outer edge, and Lecturer George and his assistant were on the other side, they could hear every word clearly. Coward or brave, noble or base, each person held their breath. Whatever hardships they had suffered were, in that instant, forgotten. They listened with their whole hearts; courage washed away the weariness of battle. Every eye was fixed with longing on the golden figure above the ruins.
"But the greed-sick thugs and plutocratic tyrants will not forget. They will not forget that our ideal is to end their rule utterly, to free the human race from hollow infighting, from the slave economy, and from brazen lies! They will not forget that our ideal is to realize each person's worth in equality. They will not forget that we pursue the survival and freedom of the human species. They will not forget that our ideal is to end wars between humans once and for all. They will not forget that we will use the wealth they stole through insatiable exploitation to save those they enslaved!"
His voice kindled a fire in every listener's heart. As he raised his sword, the low lead-gray clouds were driven back by the radiance pouring from him, as if he were the sun descending to earth.
"Now they have heard our name! When they lie on soft beds woven from the people's sweat and blood, when they sit on sofas stitched from the innocent's flowing lifeblood, they will die of fright at our name! They will stop at nothing to blacken us, to paint us as slave-masters like themselves—No! We are far nobler than they, for we care not for the individual but for the entire human race! We are not slaves who grovel before aliens for wealth and power—we are humans who revere reason and science! We are the noblest species in the galaxy, and we deserve the most beautiful future!"
Thunder rolled across the city; even the sky seemed to resonate, casting down a light fierce yet not blinding. Faces flushed; it was as if strength filled bodies anew. "Latovinians, and people from every land—another war awaits us! A war waged by armies and politicians bought by the vile; a war to end the rule of ignorance and short-sighted self-interest; a war to forge the human species into the hegemon of the galaxy. Let me hear your roar! Let the tyrants feel your fury!"
"For Latovinia! For unification!"
"Louder! Make those bastards far away tremble at your rage!" He shouted now from the smoke and ruins, the blood-red holy shroud snapping in the gale.
"For unification! For humanity!"
"Come then, you foolish, short-sighted plutocratic tyrants and politicians! Hurl yourselves on our muzzles and our blades! We will smear your worthless lives across the pillory of eternal disgrace! We will end your lives and your rule, and smash the crimson shackles! We will spread reason and science—nothing and no one will bar humankind's stride to the stars! However dark and perilous the universe, we will win a great victory for our descendants. We will forge a brilliant civilization of humankind. I promise you this victory, yours and all humanity's. For unification! For the human race's destiny to rule the galaxy!"
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