Paragon of Destruction

Arran awoke before dawn, his thoughts occupied with the captain’s manuscripts even as he opened his eyes.

He’d arrived in his new quarters the previous night, and had found them more than sufficient. Located at the very edge of the camp, the building he’d been given held an ample bedroom, a small but clean study, a well-stocked kitchen, and a spacious practice room.

He had found the captain’s manuscripts on the small wooden desk in the study, and just the sight of them had caused his eyes to go wide with surprise.

The pile of books and manuals was well over a foot tall, comprising numerous different documents. Many of these, he suspected were written by the captain, but there were more than a few by other authors as well.

He’d gone through the manuscripts immediately after arriving, but he’d quickly learned that the writings were nothing like what he’d expected to find.

In his mind, manuscripts about strategy would surely be epic tales of major battles, detailing the heroics of legendary warriors in the distant past.

But instead, he’d found the manuscripts to be filled with dense and inscrutable writing, reading more like scholarly works on magic than the battle stories he’d expected.

In fact, even the titles alone were enough to make him frown in wonder.

Among the large pile of documents were manuals and books with names like "Meditations on the Nature of Warfare,""Musings Concerning Military Matters,""Commentaries on the Rivian War," and "The Art of Attrition," none of which did much to rouse Arran’s imagination.

Eventually, he’d settled on a book simply titled, "The Warlord," but he’d found it contents every bit as dry as the other books’ titles suggested. Rather than detailing great battles, it mostly focused on politics and logistics, neither of which were topics that held much appeal to Arran.

After an hour of study, Arran had given up and gone to bed, deciding that he’d best approach the writings with a fresh mind.

But now, with a new day ahead of him, he knew he could delay the work no longer.

There was nothing for it but to delve into the works and learn from them as best he could. Because if the captain had ordered him to read these works, there must be something to gain from them.

And so, after a hearty breakfast of tough bread and grilled digger meat, he set to work on examining the large pile of documents.

He began with the manuscripts he believed were Captain Kaleesh’s own works. This was mostly because Arran was curious to see a glimpse of the captain’s thoughts, though part of it was that these manuscripts were simply thinner than the others.

Yet as he soon discovered, size meant little.

Rather than merely containing writing, the captain’s own notes were filled with numerous diagrams. And although he knew that the diagrams described battle tactics and maneuvers, their complexity reminded him more of the wards and seals he’d learned from the Ninth Valley’s Matriarch.

Still, he persisted, and as the morning passed, he slowly began to understand more of what the diagrams were describing.

They were indeed battle tactics, but rather than merely describing single movements, they detailed series of exchanges between different armies. And for each action either side might choose in any particular situation, the captain had somehow figured out all the other side’s responses.

It was dry reading, but the more Arran studied it, the more he realized how valuable it was.

The diagrams described battles between groups as small as a dozen soldiers and armies of hundreds of thousands, covering numerous different positions and terrains. And for all of them, the captain had analyzed the many different paths a battle might take.

Arran could scarcely begin to imagine the effort that had gone into preparing these manuscripts, but he understood their importance all too well.

With a thorough understanding of these writings, one could plan battles far ahead, anticipating enemies’ actions and answering them instantly. In the chaos of battle, with the pressure of an attacking enemy, that would be an invaluable advantage.

In that sense, studying these manuscripts was somewhat like studying swordsmanship, learning the many attacks and counters one might face in battle, and how best to deal with them.

Still, Arran soon realized that if swordplay was complex, it could only barely begin to compare to the intricacies of organized battle. Just the formations in the writings alone were more numerous than the attacks and counters Arran knew, and the maneuvers were even more plentiful.

When midday came, he felt like he’d only barely scratched the surface of what the manuscripts contained. Yet already, he was struggling to maintain his concentration, and although he tried to press on, he found that the diagrams and formations slipped from his mind almost as soon as he read them.

He briefly considered continuing, but then, he decided against it. When it came to studying, there was only so much he could endure in a day.

Instead, he ate a quick midday meal — more bread and meat — and then headed into the camp, where he immediately sought out Captain Kaleesh.

He found the captain instructing his own group of men, practicing various formations. Some of these, Arran now recognized, though the majority were unfamiliar as ever.

The captain greeted Arran with a smile and a wave. "Started your studies yet?"

"I have," Arran confirmed. He frowned, then continued, "The manuscripts you gave me... they’re not what I expected."

The captain gave Arran a look, amusement written plain across his face. "You were expecting tall tales and epic battles?"

"I wasn’t..." Arran began, but then, he sighed. "I suppose I was. I thought I’d find heroic stories. But instead, it’s... different."

"Fighting depends on strength and skill," the captain said. "But battle is different. It requires knowledge — knowledge of history, geography, and strategy. To win a war, you need to think a hundred steps ahead, yet be prepared for all of them to change in an instant." He paused briefly, then continued, "Warriors win fights, but to win battles, you need to be a scholar."

Arran nodded thoughtfully, realizing that it made sense. Yet after a moment, a frown crossed his face. "But why teach me this? You’re the captain, after all."

"I require all my commanders to study these matters," Captain Kaleesh said. "Sassun, Lasha — even Gar, as much as he dislikes it. When I make mistakes, I expect you and the others to notice them. And if the battlefield changes mid-battle, you need to have the skill to adjust your tactics. Even without me."

"I understand," Arran said. "But learning all of this in a few months seems impossible. Just memorizing the manuscripts you’ve given me would take a year, or even longer."

At this, the captain let out a loud laugh. "A year? I imagine it would take decades, unless you’re a far more gifted student than I was." He shook his head, though the smile on his face remained. "You need to study the manuscripts enough that you will recognize tactics when you encounter them. Mastering these matters, however, is a lifetime worth of work."

Arran sighed in relief at the captain’s words. He’d feared that the man expected him to understand everything contained within the stack of manuscripts, and that task seemed all but impossible.

Merely studying the manuscripts, however, was a different matter. That was something he could do.

They spoke for another quarter-hour, with the captain answering several of Arran’s questions about the tactics he’d studied so far.

Then, finally, Captain Kaleesh said, "But enough of this. You should spend a few hours training with your men, and take some time for yourself as well. You can continue your studies tomorrow."

Arran eagerly accepted the suggestion, and he spent the next several hours practicing swordplay with his own group of mercenaries.

He found them eager for practice. They’d already spent a week in the camp with little to do but wait, and now that their commander had returned — and successfully, at that — they were glad to get in some practice.

Once more, Arran was impressed with their skill and strength. Although they still lacked the discipline of the other mercenaries, there wasn’t a single one among them who hadn’t earned his strength through years of practice and battle, and the results of that were plain to see in their ability.

He only returned to his quarters when evening was already approaching, then prepared a quick meal for himself.

Yet as he ate, his thoughts turned to another matter — the battle he’d fought in the cavern below the mines.

Ostensible, the battle had been a resounding success. He’d killed three giant monsters, each of which with the strength to rival the dragon that Crassus had killed for him years earlier. Moreover, he once more had a large supply of meat that was rich in Natural Essence — enough to last him years.

And yet, as he thought about the battle, he could not help but see several large problems with his newfound strength.

The first of these was that the strength he’d used was only temporary. While he had unrivaled power against a large group of weaker enemies, he still lacked the strength to match truly powerful enemies without that help.

On a battlefield, he might be all but invincible, but against a solitary enemy, he would be far weaker. And if he showed any of his power on a battlefield, that might earn him enemies he could not yet match in his normal state.

The second problem was related to this. Because although his physical strength benefited from the Blood Ruin, his magical strength didn’t. And that meant his offensive magic would be all but useless in major battles.

For this, however, he had a path forward. He’d found the Forms, and over the next several months, he should have plenty of time to study them. With any luck, that should help him make a start in reaching a level of magical power to match his physical strength.

And then, there was the final problem — his weapon.

He’d spent many thousands of hours studying swordsmanship, but as he’d found during the battle against the giant diggers, normal swords weren’t suited to all types of battles.

Of course, his Living Shadow weapon could transform itself if he had enough time, but even then, it would do him little good. Because while he could use swords as easily as he could use his own hands, he lacked any sort of training with other types of weapons.

That, he now realized, was something he would need to fix. He needed a weapon that could be used against other types of enemies — a weapon suitable for slaying giants.

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