All Is Fair in Love and War

Zane Joly

        In the far north was the city of Limentia. The city held the finest artisans, the best breweries and restaurants, the most passionate performers, some of the better brothels, and the most outrageous festivals in the world. The entire city was dedicated to Emys, the deity of love in all of its forms and all of its sides. Romantic and platonic, cruel and caring, physical and psychological, aesthetic and personal. No one quite agreed on what Emys looked like. It was said they appeared differently to each, to suit how love touched them. Depictions of their various forms were carved or painted all over the city, the only way to be sure it was them was by the symbol on every piece, a set of two or perhaps three curved lines that roughly made the shape of a heart.

Almost on the opposite side of the continent, in the southern lands, was the Scourge Legion, a loose mercenary army that could eclipse the might of any ordinary national one. Known not only for its size but for its great warriors, tacticians, and weapons of war. Sometimes the army fought for pay. Sometimes they raided merely for the thrill. And wound throughout the army’s high command were the priests of the goddess Ran. It was said their lady whispered in their ear, directing them towards targets that fit within grand machinations of blood. Ran was the goddess of war, violence, battle, and carnage. Every life ended by the Scourge Legion was in tribute to her. It was her power that unified it, and her priests wielded unnatural strength and skill. Banners carrying her image would be held above the sea of iron. They all showed a woman in full battle armor, her hair made of fire, blood dripping from clawed hands, a grin on her face.

And upon one day, Ran found herself stalking through the hill lands, thinking of what to do next with her grand army as she walked. She crested a hill and found a young woman resting against its side, writing in a journal. Ran walked closer. She was never seen by mortals unless she willed it, and this one was probably too distracted to have noticed her anyways. She was writing what seemed to be… poetry? Eugh. Gods were forbidden from interfering directly with the physical world, they had to stick minor miracles or give special abilities to mortals, but no one would notice one smote poet. Ran lifted her hand and-

“Oh, I like that line,” said a voice. The goddess faltered. Suddenly, standing beside the mortal was a figure in deep red finery. Their earrings, bracelets, rings, and necklaces all held tiny jewels that glowed a soft blue. Tattooed on their cheek was a simple abstract symbol that looked a little like a heart. Each time Ran glanced away then back at them or blinked, they appeared differently, though the tattoo, jewelry and clothes remained constant. They looked over at the other god with a smile. “Ran,” said Emys, “Funny running into you here. Heh, I ran into Ran. Maybe I should be the poet.”

“Poetry,” scoffed the war goddess, “So pathetic, of course you support it.”

“Poetry is born of love, as most art is,” said Emys, “This one has talent. I mean, they aren’t perfect, but that’s probably for the best. They have room to grow. Poetry is a great force. It can change people, and people can change the world.”
“I would vomit, but I’m omnipotent and incorporeal. I’ve known many poets. The majority of them died crying on the ends of a blade. If poems hold such power, why do they burn so easily? Do you know what actually changes the world? Violence. Plain and simple. Not poetry, not art, not love, not you.”

Emys tilted their head, interest kindling in their eyes. “So you think I can’t affect the world?” she asked, “How about a wager then? A contest of practical ability. You march your Scourge Legion across the continent and destroy my beloved city of Limentia.”

“You’re describing a daydream of mine, not a wager,” said Ran, “And as tempting as that is, it would be costly. A cross-continent march over mountains would weaken the army. They could do it, obviously, but it wouldn’t be worth it.”

“Well,” said Emys, “The souls of everyone in that city rightfully belong to me. But, if you destroy it, I’ll give them to you, whether they die in your invasion or years later. Hundreds of thousands of lives, all yours. But, if you can’t achieve such a feat and love does prevail, I get the souls of everyone in your precious army which would ordinarily be yours. Again, counting both those who die in the invasion and later of other causes.”

“Are you joking?” asked Ran incredulously, “Limentia doesn’t even have a standing army. What, are you going to stop my legion with a poem?”

“Do you accept then?” replied Emys mildly.

“Oh absolutely,” said Ran with vigor. Emys stuck out their hand and the goddess of carnage shook it with almost child-like excitement.

“I think this will be an illuminating experience for both of us,” said Emys.

“Yes, yes,” said Ran, “Now if you’ll excuse me, if I have a crusade to orchestrate.”

General Emira was eating her dinner when she heard a familiar voice whisper in her ear, “The Scourge Legion has a new mission.” With immense practice and self-control, Emira managed not to flinch. She took one more bite and slowly turned to her left. Crouching on a stool in an almost bestial manner was Ran, who was grinning. As her high priestess, Emira was permitted to see the gods with her own eyes.

Emira calmly stood and bowed. “It is an honor, as always, my lady,” she said as she rose, “What do you require of the legion?”

“I want Limentia wiped off the map,” said Ran simply.

Emira blinked. That was a bit of an unusual request. “My lady,” she said, “with all due respect, while Limentia itself would not be a challenging target, it’s most of the way across the continent, not to mention the mountain range separating us. Such a journey would take a considerable toll on the army. There are many easier targets, depending on what you wish to accomplish by attacking the city.”

“It has to be Limentia specifically,” said the goddess, dropping from the stool to stalk towards Emira, smile gone, “It is not your place to question my motives. Just get it done, with as little cost to the legion as possible.”

“Of course, my lady,” said Emira as she bowed again. She was wise enough not to argue with a goddess of violence. “I didn’t mean to be disrespectful. I look forward to watching the city burn. When do you need it destroyed by?”

“I don’t think there’s a deadline,” said Ran, “But to be safe, start getting the army ready now. I’d rather not dawdle. And just so you know, the deity Emys will be acting against us. They’re a love deity, I don’t expect they’ll be able to actually do much, but they are still a god. They will make this at least marginally harder. Be prepared. I want my victory to be overwhelming and absolute.”

“It will be done, my lady.”

The Scourge Legion readied itself for war. First came recruitment; the many cities and nations of the southern lands were called upon and intimidated into lending new recruits to fill out the divine army’s ranks. And yet, the enlistment numbers were lower than Emira had ever seen them. In fact, the legion’s population was going down. There was a surge of desertion. The punishment for such was death, but the soldiers were still lost whether they ran away or were executed.

General Emira arranged for eight of the deserting soldiers to be brought into her tent gagged and in chains. She sat on her chair casually, sharpening a knife. Standing beside her, unseen by the other mortals, was Ran, quite literally staring into the souls of the eight traitors. “The punishment for desertion is death,” Emira said evenly, not looking up from her knife, “No exceptions. But you can choose whether you get a quick and easy execution here, or whether a slow and agonizing example is made of you in front of the troops. You.” She gestured to one of the deserters kneeling before her. A soldier stepped forward to remove his gag. “Why did you leave?”

“I… well, general, you see, I had a dream a couple nights ago. It was about a man I loved who I left to join the army. And I just woke up… missing him so much. I should never have left. I deserted so I could try again. Even if I couldn’t find him, or couldn’t get him back, I still wanted to try love again. I have a life to live, and I don’t want it to be this.”

Emira glanced over at Ran, who was now snarling. “The goddess does not find that a compelling excuse for desertion,” she said simply. She lunged forward, using her divine blessing from Ran to move inhumanly fast. With a few quick strokes of her dagger, the deserter was lying dead at her feet. Ran stalked over and reached into the body, drawing out a tiny wriggling sliver of white light, the poor man’s soul. It vanished as it was sent away beyond the physical world to be dealt with. Ran was far from kind to the souls of the weak.

“Next one,” said Emira, stepping back. The next deserter in the line’s gag was removed. “Same question.”

Each deserter that would talk described a dream reminding them of what they had left behind, or a sudden longing to try to find passions beyond bloodshed, or some other psychological turning point that had driven them to run from the army. A wave of existential romanticism had spread across the soldiers. Disgusting.

“I take it this is the work of Emys?” asked Emira as Ran collected the souls of the deserters she had killed.

“Most definitely,” said the goddess, venom dripping from her voice, “They are the sentimental weakness of humanity, it makes sense they would try to make my soldiers go soft. Though only the weakest would fall to Emys’s pathetic ploys, we still need to contain this. If the mere threat of death is not enough to dissuade the potential deserters, then they shall be forced to witness it personally.”

Across the Scourge Legion’s war camps, there was a crackdown on desertion. There were more ever-vigilant guards patrolling to watch for any escapees, brutal mandatory executions, and the bodies of traitors hung as decoration around the tents.

The flow of deserters finally ran dry. Those who had been most eager to leave had either done so or had been caught and killed, and the rest were either too loyal or too scared to submit to the visions and temptations Emys granted them. That didn’t change the fact that the army morale had still plummeted. Even those who stayed deep down yearned for their old life again. Well, most of them. The most dedicated fanatics of blood and the priests of Ran were largely immune to the love deity’s curse.

Finally, the Scourge Legion began its march. It made its way across the continent, pillaging any settlements it passed for supplies. Just as the soldiers became used to the dreams and yearnings for home, they subsided. Instead, those feelings were replaced with an odd sense of bliss and appreciation. The sunny sky and rolling clouds, the whispering grass in the wind, the camaraderie of their fellows. It all became more noticeable somehow, easier to be thankful for. It distracted from the hardships of the war march.

Emira was of course cautious of this new euphoria among the troops, but how was she supposed to stop it? It was good for morale after all. Ran observed all of this with disgust, but was equally powerless to stop it or come up with a good reason why it should be stopped. The goddess couldn’t guess what game Emys was playing, but this was probably leading up to some kind of moral lesson about the value of loving life or some drivel like that. And she most certainly wasn’t going to let that happen.

The Scourge Legion was making good progress when it came upon the city of Therus. Therus was a walled city that did have a standing army, and raiding it wouldn’t have been worth the cost. At the same time, the city was still terrified and certainly didn’t want to offend the legion, so they were eager to assist the army so they could be on their way. The Scourge Legion settled by the city for a couple nights, resupplying and enjoying the comforts of civilizations.

Therus was no Limentia, but it had the largest legal brothel and escort industry of any city on its side of the mountains. And many of the people in this line of work naturally paid tribute to Emys. As the Scourge Legion first arrived at Therus, the deity of love went to pay a few important mortals in the city a visit.

Akria was the head of the largest escort guild in all of Therus. She was reading over reports in her office when she smelled something. Lavender, like what her husband got for her every year on her birthday. She looked up to see him sitting across her desk, dripping with jewelry holding glowing gems and with a green dress on. That was unusual. He didn’t usually like gems on his jewelry and he abhorred that shade of green. Then Akria spotted the tattoo on his cheek. The symbol of Emys.

“Are- are you-” she stammered.

“I am,” Emys responded smoothly, “Sorry for the confusion, I sometimes appear as people’s loved ones. Only happens on occasion, but haven’t quite found a way to turn it off. It’s the damnedest thing.” The voice they spoke in was both like and unlike that of Akria’s husband. It was strange.

“It’s an honor, your holiness,” said Akria, giving an awkward sitting bow.

“Come now my dear, such humility doesn’t befit you,” said Emys with a smile, “You’re usually such an arrogant bastard. It’s one of the things that I like about you. You’ve always been a servant of mine, not only in the tribute you pay to me directly with shrines and such, but with your commitment to my ideals. You appreciate love in its many different forms and meanings.”

“Well I’ve tried, yes,” said Akria.

“I need a favor,” said the deity, “As you may have heard, the Scourge Legion is passing by. They’re soldiers, they’ll need your services. I want your guild to be… particularly proactive in getting customers from that army. I know that many of your workers may be scared of the soldiers, but I assure you that they are under my protection. And speaking of protection, I will also temporarily grant them immunity to disease or pregnancy. I want your services supplied to as many soldiers as possible. Give a discount if you must.”

“Alright,” said Akria slowly, “May I ask why?”

“Where would the fun be in that?” asked Emys with a chuckle.

They deity of love visited every guild leader, escort manager, and major brothel owner in the city, making the same request. And to a few of the individual workers they were particularly fond of, they gave more detailed and specific instructions.

When the soldiers went into the city, they found many very prepared brothels and quite eager escorts. From Emys’s divine perspective, watching the guilds of the city interact with the army was quite like seeing a swarm of ants crawl over a rat too dumb too dumb to realize it was in danger. Not quite a romantic description, but after all, love wasn’t always pretty. And it certainly wasn’t going to be for those soldiers.

The first night, things went fine. The personal physical service industry in Therus got a lot of new customers, and several soldiers and officers even snuck into each other’s tents that night. The following day, as the Scourge Legion resupplied, there were a few more such couplings, or triplings, quadlings, pentlings or more in some cases. But things really kicked up a notch on the second night the army camped by Therus. There were many people entering the tents or sneaking away hand in hand, as there had been the night before. But unlike the night before, in the open light of the campfires, things had escalated into a party, a massive wild celebration that spread across most of the war camp. None of the officers had ordered it, but many were participating, much to both Ran and General Emira’s chagrin.

Ran had no doubt that Emys was using a few miracles to meddle, but it was inconsequential. Still, it was irritating. Her irritation grew when in the festivities, two siege engines were accidentally damaged and no less than three tents lit on fire by mistake. Still, if this was all Emys had, then they were far outmatched. Ran didn’t notice this, but for the army’s entire stay in Therus, every time a soldier attempted to hurt an escort, that soldier would suddenly fall unconscious, leaving their would-be victim to escape. Ran had promised to protect their servants, and a god kept their promises.

The morning after the festivities, the Scourge Legion left Therus behind. From the city walls, Emys watched them, smiling as they vanished over the horizon.

Over the next few days, it was discovered that some of the army’s supplies had been intentionally tampered with. Food was spoiled, crossbows were broken, and even some maps were ruined. It didn’t take Ran long to realize who the saboteurs must have been. She should have known Emys would try a trick like this, using escorts as spies. Still, it made no difference. The supply losses were less than ideal, but not disastrous.

But during the next few weeks, more concerning revelations became apparent. The army doctors suddenly received an influx of patients, almost all of them with particularly bad symptoms of a wide variety of venereal diseases. When Emira reported this to Ran, the goddess let loose a scream of rage that only the high priestess could hear. The goddess was forced to admit she had failed to consider certain forms of divine punishment that could technically fall under a love god’s domain.

The diseases affected a statistically astronomical portion of the soldiers in the army who had partaken in the delights of their stay at Therus. When the doctors went to get the medicinal supplies, they found that many of the bottles and boxes containing the medicine had been sabotaged as well. Disease ravaged the Scourge Legion. At the same time, the elation and appreciation for life they’d been experiencing on the march so far suddenly ceased. And then, perfectly timed, they reached the mountains.

Another wave of desertion and mutiny struck the army, soldiers begging to turn back. Emira was once again forced to deal out heavy martial punishment. Morale dropped like a boulder tossed into the ocean.

With no other choice, the Scourge Legion started making its way through the mountains. The path they took could only be considered a pass in that it was a little easier to go through than the range around it. The army’s progress slowed to a crawl. Disease, cold, and exhaustion started to pick soldiers off, one by one, more inescapable and dangerous than mere mortal opponents.

As she trekked through the cold alongside the rest of the soldiers, Emira sometimes thought she could see a figure through the snow, unbothered by the cold, glittering with jewelry. The figure would always stoop down next to a soldier and whisper in their ear or hold a brief conversation with them. Then a look of utter despair would cross the soldier’s face and they would collapse into the snow. Then the figure would always disappear. Once or twice, Emira thought they winked at her.

Ran tried to work her own miracles in response. She would fill the hearts of soldiers with determination and lust for conquest, and empower them to keep marching. But it wasn’t enough. She managed to save most of her priests, but for many of the others it seemed Emys’s sway was stronger than hers.

Crossing the mountains would have been hard enough without awful disease ravaging the army, damaged supplies, and pitiful morale. As it was, the crossing was a slaughter worse than any battle. By the time the Scourge Legion made it out of the mountains, over half of their original number were dead or missing, not counting all of those who had deserted or been executed at the start of the crusade.

The despair loosened its grip a little once they left the mountains, but its claws still remained. Soldiers were constantly tormented with nightmares of their dead comrades or the loved ones they had left behind. More desertions came, and Emira and the other officers barely had the energy to discourage them.

The mountains and the sabotage at Therus had left the army with few supplies. Starvation started to join disease in cutting soldiers down. The Scourge Legion pillaged any villages or towns they crossed, but they were unfamiliar with the northern region of the continent and had a harder time finding settlements and navigating the terrain. Besides, what towns they did find seemed to have been evacuated, much of the supplies having been taken.

“Emys must have warned them we were coming,” growled Ran as they reached another ghost town.

“Will they try the same trick with Limentia?” asked Emira.

“No,” said Ran, “Our objective is the city, not its population. Even Emys isn’t enough of a poetic fool to try the ‘the city is its people’ excuse. They may have had more tricks up their sleeves then I expected, but that city will still be razed to the ground. Just like this one. Burn it all.”

The Scourge Legion scoured every scrap of food they could from every settlement they passed, then reduced them to rubble. A voice whispered in the minds of many of the soldiers, Is this what you left your life behind to do? Destroy without reason?

And then, the army reached Limentia. They crested a large hill about a mile from the city’s edge and stared at it in wonder. The city of love lay below them, vast and glittering and colorful. Also unwalled and undefended. And that same voice whispered in all of their ears, saying, Is this what you came all this way to break? One more beauty you’ll rob the world of? Can you really bring yourself to do it? Not many of the soldiers could answer that last question. But the Scourge Legion had been marching for fifteen hours straight, and needed to rest. They were happy to delay facing the city until morning.

Emira took stock of what the army had. Only a few siege engines had managed to survive the journey, the army was greatly diminished, and their fighting spirit was ruined. But Limentia was an unwalled city with no military, it could still be taken, especially with the blessings of a war goddess on their side.

Not many of the soldiers got sleep that night, tormented by the memories of all they had lost and the terrified of what they might still have to do. Emira herself got only a few hours of sleep, but her resolve was nonetheless ironclad.

The general awoke to find a tall, elegant figure sitting on her table, reading over the battle plans. They wore a rather revealing red outfit with glowing blue gems hanging from every piece of cloth they had. Elaborate tattoos covered their body, but what stood out was the one on their cheek, a few lines that roughly looked like a heart. They were delicately sipping tea from a small steaming cup. Standing next to this figure was Ran, looking livid.

“Get out!” snapped the war goddess, “I don’t want to see you until after your city is ablaze! I am sick of you and your tricks.”

“I didn’t come here for you,” said Emys pleasantly, “I came to talk to her.” Their gaze slid to Emira.

The high priestess of Ran stood, glad she had slept in her uniform, and straightened it out. “I have nothing to say to you.”

Emys’s eyes crinkled as if they found this terribly amusing. “Really? Not a thing to say to the second god you’ve ever met, your patron goddess’ nemesis, the one you’re going to destroy the city of? Not even gloating?”

“Emira is my finest disciple,” said Ran, “Whatever sentimental tactics you have planned will fail on her. She lives only for the glory of conquest and the scent of freshly spilled blood.”

“Indeed, I-” Emira stopped. She sniffed the air. “Is that… is that cinnamon tea?” she asked, suddenly thrown.

“It is,” said Emys, standing from the table and stepping closer, “Just like your grandmother used to make.” They took a long sip.

“Oh,” managed Emira. Ran was staring in a mix of outrage and confusion.

“I liked your grandmother,” said Emys, “She understood love. As I’m certain her four husbands and two wives could have attested.” The deity chuckled. “She loved you, you know. She would never have said it, but you were her favorite grandchild. That’s why it broke her heart when you joined the Scourge Legion.”

“I…” began Emira, not sure what she intended to say. That particular scent of cinnamon brought her back to her grandmother’s house, with the woods around it that she had loved to walk in so much.

“You left for the army,” reiterated Emys, “To pillage and stab and destroy and never leave anything good in your wake. And it hurt your family, but it hurt her most of all. Leaving hurt you too, even though you didn’t admit it. You pretended that you didn’t need them, so you’d never have to go through the pain of seeing their disappointment when you returned. That’s why you ignored all those letters they sent. Including the ones telling you that your grandmother was sick. And it was because of that shame and fear that you weren’t there when she passed. She had last words she wanted to say to you, you know. But you weren’t there.”

Tears rolled down Emira’s face, and she was trying not to sob. “Ignore them,” commanded Ran, “We have a city to destroy.”

“Shhhhh,” said Emys, though it was a little unclear who they were saying it to quiet Ran or to comfort Emira. They placed the tea in Emira’s hands, and the general took a small sip. Just like she remembered it. The tears came harder, and Emys gently wiped them away from her cheeks.

“I have her soul you know,” said Emys, almost too quiet for Emira to hear. But she did hear. 

The priestess looked up, vision blurry. “What?”
“I have her soul,” repeated Emys, “She lived a life of love and passion so she was rightfully mine. Would you like to talk to her? Maybe hear what she wanted to say to you?”

Emira nodded, not trusting herself to speak. Emys gave a soft smile and tapped one of the gems they wore. They withdrew a slim wriggling sliver of light and dropped it onto the floor. It rose up into a flickering translucent mass of soft blue light in the shape of a person. It only sort of had a visible face, but Emira still recognized it all the same. “Grandmother?” she asked, voice shaking.

Emys hooked an arm around the dumbstruck Ran’s shoulders and guided her away. “Let’s give those two some privacy, eh? I think they have a lot to discuss.”

“That wasn’t fair!” protested Ran as they left the tent.

The other god gave a high, sweet laugh that somehow terrified Ran just a little. “Did you think love was fair?” they asked.

“You’re a bastard, Emys,” grumbled the war goddess.

“Oh you have no idea,” said the love deity.

“I wonder if destroying your city will wipe away that smugness,” spat Ran, “You may have distracted my general and weakened my army, but your city is still defenseless.”

“Oh,” said Emys, “You mean, the city that houses veterans who wanted a new life, master duelists and blacksmiths who practice combat and weapon creation as an art form, and a horde of admittedly untrained people who are nonetheless willing to fight and kill for the city they love?”

Ran blinked. “What?” she asked.

“Limentia doesn’t have a standing army, it’s in the city’s constitution,” said Emys, “But that doesn’t mean it can’t form a militia. Especially if the people of the city are given advance warning by their patron deity several weeks before the invasion.”

The sound of startled yells rose up in the distance. Emys gave Ran a wink before vanishing.

Streaming from the city came a mob that vastly outnumbered what was left of the Scourge Legion. Many of them were poorly equipped, wearing commoner clothes and wielding kitchen knives, but they were well rested, healthy, and filled with vigor. Ran’s soldiers, while trained and relatively well equipped, were starving, tired, sick, and had just experienced the worst few weeks of their lives.

The Scourge Legion frantically scrambled to battle positions. Ran turned sharply and went back into Emira’s tent, to find her general sobbing into the spirit of her grandmother’s shoulder, cinnamon tea spilled all over the ground. The goddess rolled her eyes. Her high priestess was in no condition to command troops.

Ran attempted to rally her other priests and imbued her soldiers with divine strength. They fought impressively, given the circumstances, each Scourge Legion soldier killing an average of two Limentians before falling, but they were overwhelmed by numbers. The goddess watched as her divine army was vanquished by a hoard of civilians, most of which had probably never fought a day in their lives. Emira’s tent caught on fire and collapsed with her inside of it.

When it was over, Ran sat and glowered on a hilltop. Ordinarily, she might have appreciated such a slaughter, even if it was of her own army. She could always raise another. But what hurt was that these people had been Limentians, acolytes of love. It was nauseating.

“Good game,” congratulated Emys, materializing on Ran’s left, “I’ll admit, I was worried there for a second. But I think we both learned from this, don’t you?”

“If we had physical forms, I would rip your throat out,” said Ran.

“Oh, I can think of all sorts of things we could get up to with physical forms,” said Emys with a wink. Ran just rolled her eyes. “Well anyways, I think you owe me a certain something…”

Ran sighed and snapped her fingers. A small ball of spinning light appeared in her hand, the souls of all those in the Scourge Legion who had died since the crusade had begun. The souls of those who had surrendered to the Limentians or successfully deserted would trickle in over the next few decades.

Emys took the orb of light and danced it around their fingers for a few seconds before holding it between their thumb and forefinger and looking down at their outfit. Eventually, they spotted an open space on their necklace and moved the orb closer. It transformed into one of the many softly glowing crystals and attached to the necklace, to join the countless other mortal lives Emys kept as jewelry. 

“This was fun,” said the love deity, “Let me know if you ever want to do something like this again.” They gave Ran a spectral kiss on the cheek and disappeared.