The Santara Commentaries (Book 1-3)
Chapter 3: Helot Hell
Chapter 3: Helot Hell
Puncak was a barbaric society, there’s no other way to say it. Founded by refugees who fled the Tionghoa’s razing of Paupwa, the settlement struggled to survive in the cold mountains that provided little sustenance. To survive, the Puncakians turned to the dark gods of the Nodians. They survived… but at the cost of their souls, having adopted demonic practices such as the murder of “unfit” infants by throwing them off the cliffs of Mt. Puncak into the Valley of Gehenna.
Paradisa was “unfit” according to her people, though she avoided Gehenna as her deformity, her fear of blood, was not spotted until she was a young girl. Like any Puncakian child, she was exposed to the carnage of Gehenna once she was of age. Rotting, half-eaten corpses, and tiny bones of infants littered that bloody place. She fainted immediately, unlike her sister who found the place “exciting”.
I learned of this from Paradisa soon after Ben-Teng. In fact, she told Lord Aron and I much of her life. My heart went out to her whenever I listened to her struggles, of her subjection to the cruelty of her own people. Even her father was ashamed of her.
Before we continue, I must clarify that my feelings for Paradisa was never like that. Perish that thought!
Back to the story at hand, the Padri had become powerful. We were not just some local rebellion that the Governor General in Khmer could ignore at will. Not anymore. We had formed the ‘Triple Alliance’ – not a term the people used back in the day, but a useful one for future chroniclers. This alliance was made up of the Kingdom of Dun-a-din (represented by my lord Aron), the Sultanate of Paloe (represented by Sultan Kochba), and the Commonwealth of Puncak (represented by Inferna and Paradisa in place of their father, Lord Protector Davit). I will also mention the Despotate of Leste, though more on that in another chapter. The three of us formed the entirety of eastern Santara. Thus, half of the archipelago had broken away from the Dragon Emperor’s domain.
It did not take long for the Tionghoa to respond to our victory in Ben-Teng. But they were unable to do so by force. The colonial authorities had been so reliant on Puncakian mercenaries that when Puncak defected, they found themselves unable to maintain any real presence in the east. They had to resort to underhanded means: inciting rebellion.
Remember the lowland helots? It should come as no surprise that the lowlanders hated their subjugation. The Puncakians were harsh taskmasters, they cared little for the lives of the helots.
Having seen this opportunity, the Tionghoa was able to make contact with a helot chieftain named Spartus. Yes, just Spartus. Despite my best efforts, I could not find the name of his father nor his tribe. It is possible that Spartus was a pseudonym. I leave this mystery to future chroniclers.
The Tionghoa gave Spartus weapons – swords, axes, bows, even arquebuses – in order to combat the Puncakians. The situation became critical for the Commonwealth, as the Puncakians were utterly dependent on the lowlanders for food.
Wanting to free the helots, Spartus quickly allied himself with the Tionghoa. He wanted the dignity that had been denied to him and his people for so long. I sympathized with his plight, as did Lord Aron. When we received the news of the rebellion and the Lord Protector’s request for assistance, our hearts were heavy with doubt.
Even so, we knew what needed to be done. The helots were pawns of the Tionghoa, who had been content to leave them in their pathetic state when the Puncakians were doing the Governor General’s bidding.
In order to reach Puncak from Paloe, we needed to sail east. The Dunadinian fleet was small, though we were able to recover a Tionghoa junk ship called the Shenlong, though at Kochba’s insistence we renamed her to the Leviathan. At over 300 feet in length, the Leviathan was able to carry the entire Dunadinian army. Its size also meant that we were able to traverse the deep waters that most ships in Santara couldn’t.
The Leviathan was quite the steal for us. Which was why I found it puzzling, even to this day, that Inferna gave the ship to us just like that. It was her Puncakians who had captured the Leviathan while she was docked in Fort Ben-Teng’s harbor.
Perhaps Inferna had no use for it since the Puncakian army was airborne? But even flying soldiers need to eat. Maybe she just liked us? That’s a possibility, especially since Paradisa was very fond of Lord Aron and me (especially Lord Aron). More likely, she saw this gift as the means to earn our goodwill.
And earned it she did. Despite our mixed feelings on the whole affair, we readily accepted Inferna’s request to help the Puncakians crush Spartus’ slave rebellion.
The Leviathan also allowed our whole army to reach Iryan island in less than a month. By the time we reached the shores, we learned that Spartus and the helots had established a huge encampment at the foot of Mt. Puncak. The situation was more dire than we had first thought. Spartus had recruited enough men to surround the entirety of the mountain. Furthermore, the helots had put together a perimeter of ballistae, archery towers, and cannons (proof of Tionghoa’s meddling) to prevent Puncakian flyers from delivering supplies through the air.
We arrived in Iryan in the nick of time. Given helot defenses, we knew that it was not feasible to send in Puncakian flyers. They’d be blasted out of the sky. Instead, we used the lush jungles to our advantage as we snuck through the trees to get to each artillery unit. Once we were close enough, our ground soldiers charged in as quickly as they could. Here, Arphaxad and his riders proved to be very useful as they quickly took out the artillery crew.
It was a good thing that the helots were farmers instead of trainer soldiers. They had zeal, but little else. Once they were isolated, it was easy to capture their positions and scatter the defenders. Most of them were routed by the preternatural arts of Kochba and Inferna. The rest fled in terror at the sight of Drusus singlehandedly cutting down their friends in large numbers.
We repeated this process with other helot defensive positions until we punched an opening through their perimeter and broke the siege for good.
Once the siege was broken, this battle was over in all but name. Lord Protector Davit sent his own forces from Puncak down to Spartus’ encampment. Even so, the brave helots refused to surrender. They had no desire to return to Puncakian slavery.
In our assault against the helot encampment, Spartus fought like a crazed demoniac. I witnessed him cutting down gryphon and pegasus riders by the dozens; he had even wounded the Lord Protector. The responsibility to take out Spartus fell to King Aron; the two matched blades against one another. Spartus had strength, but my lord had speed and dexterity. At first, they matched each other blow for blow. But soon Spartus tired out, having fought his enemies for so long while Lord Aron was still fresh, having his wounds healed by Paradisa right before he engaged the helot leader.
With a swing to the chest, King Aron dealt the decisive blow.
The following was Spartus’ dying words: “El Shaddai is my witness. I die fighting for my people against the Puncakians and their dark gods. I have no regrets.”
I’m sure King Aron felt dirty for what we had done. I know I did. This was made worse by the mass execution of the surviving rebels. None were spared. And like in Ben-Teng, my lord said nothing in protest. Despite our victory, King Aron was a defeated man.
All this culminated in a ‘dark ceremony’ at the Valley of Gehenna. The Puncakians’ worship of the dark gods was an open secret to everyone in Santara. From their infanticide to their battle bloodlust to their ritual murders, anyone with eyes could see it. Everyone knew of its existence, yet they all looked the other way.
No one did a thing about it. Not the Tionghoa, not the Paloeans, and not us.
And it appeared things would stay that way when Lord Protector Davit decided to hold a dark ceremony at the Valley of Gehenna to celebrate our victory over the helots. That “ceremony” includes ritual murder of a young infant, born of a temple harlot.
That clear blasphemy seemed to have awoken something in King Aron that had been suppressed since Mocasar. He mobilized Drusus, Arphaxad, and the Dunadinian soldiers in response. With them, we moved towards Gehenna.
When we entered that infamous valley, I immediately smelt the rotting stench of death. But I didn’t care. For the first time since the day I met King Aron, I finally found a battle I could fight with a clear conscience.
We were all waiting for our king’s order: to stop the Puncakian blood ritual. But the order didn’t come, my lord was hesitating. I was frustrated, but I understood his plight. The dilemma was clear: political expediency or the moral law?
Sometimes I wonder what decision he would have made had he been left to his own devices. I said this because as we were stricken by paralysis born of analysis, a pegasus flew over us with lightning quick speed. I recognized the silver hair of the rider. Paradisa danced past Puncakian flyers to reach that blasphemous altar. Then, she grabbed the infant away from the dark priest with dexterity that I did not know she possessed.
She attempted to make a quick getaway, but soon found herself blocked off by numerous pegasus and gryphon riders.
One of the captors was Inferna. By her voice, it was clear that she was pained: “Sister, why have you done this? You know the penalty for interrupting a blood ritual.”
“I care not,” responded Paradisa. “This blasphemous practice is against El Shaddai. This is not the way of Yakob and our ancestors. And I tire of the pretense.”
The silver-haired maiden was soon taken by a Puncakian soldier from her mount. She was then brought to face Davit, the Lord Protector. If she thought that her father would spare her for this holy transgression, she was gravely mistaken. Instead, the Lord Protector held his sword in his hand, ready to strike his daughter dead.
We were the instrument of her salvation. Paradisa’s daring rescue of the infant had shaken King Aron out of his hesitancy. He gave out the order he should have given much earlier. Arphaxad and the Riders of Dun-a-din charged in. Not to fight, mind you. At least, that was not our first option. Still, things were so tense that for a moment I thought we would have to fight the Puncakians.
As for Lord Aron, he pulled off a daring (and reckless) stunt. Riding as Drusus’ passenger on his wyvern, he flew through the Puncakian flyers. And with great precision, he jumped off and landed to where Drusus and Paradisa was. This was made all the more impressive since he was not the only passenger on Drusus’ wyvern – I was there too.
It all happened so quickly that Davit did not know what was going on until King Aron’s sword was on his neck.
Davit was the first to speak: “King Aron! What is the meaning of this?!”
“I should be the one asking that question, Lord Protector,” countered Aron. “This ritual is an outrage! And you have no right to kill your daughter for so valorous a deed!”
The tension was so thick between the two sides. I started to anticipate how the battle was going to go, whether or not we could win against the Puncakians. I knew full well why King Aron wanted me to be on Drusus’ wyvern. I moved to Drusus and began whispering to him – if we could take out Inferna, then we might stand a chance. But we would have to do it quickly. I also wondered what Kochba, who was amongst the congregants, would do. Would he side with us or with the Puncakians?
“You would fight us, your ally, over this?” asked Davit incredulously.
My lord responded with a cry, “I am Aron, son of Atreus of the Borromeo Tribe! As the last heir of the priest kings, I will not tolerate this affront to the God of our fathers!”
There was a pregnant pause in the Valley of Gehenna. In front of me, Drusus was keeping an eye on Inferna. He held his lance tightly. She was close to us; I knew Drusus could pull it off.
“Let us discuss this matter with cool heads,” Davit said, his voice soft and lacked conviction.
“Let… her… go!”
And Davit did, throwing his lance to the ground. As I witnessed that, I could feel the tension leaving my body; calling that feeling relief would be a severe understatement. Everyone felt the same way, I’m sure. Aron also put away his weapon. As soon as he did, Paradisa enveloped him in her arms.
I wouldn’t say that all was well with the Padri, but we were able to strike a compromise afterwards. Davit had agreed to suspend Puncakian blood rituals for the time being. Lord Aron wanted them abolished but the Puncakians were so attached to their practices that Davit refused. In the end, we took what we could get. Especially since they agreed to overlook Paradisa’s actions which were grounds for execution in Puncak.
Even so, King Aron was vocal with his displeasure.
“I should take the position of Lord Protector for myself so I can put an end to your dark ceremonies,” he told Davit.
The Lord Protector laughed and responded, “Only a descendant of Puncakian nobility can assume the title Lord Protector, King of Dun-a-din.”
Thus, the tension amongst the Triple Alliance remained. I couldn’t help but wonder if the Padri could be united long enough to defeat the Tionghoa in this war. Despite that, we felt good about ourselves. We stood our ground, and the Padri still remained.
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The style is that of a greek or roman epic - I say that as high praise. It's like reading Herodotus's Histories, but with wyverns and cannons.