Soldiers of a Neverending War (Closed: Graphic Content)

[Havensky]

Crystal City, Havensky

Deep within the walls of the Crystal City, Lady Jessica Heart tossed and turned furiously in her sleep. Her nightgown soaked with sweat.

She was sat down in a chair in front of a metal desk with a single lamp on it, another man walked in, he was tall and imposing as the rest but wore a uniform of an officer whereas the others bore uniforms of what appeared to be of the Waffen KSP or the military arm of the Secret Police...

"What are you doing here?" the man asked, he was now sat opposite her, his hands tented together and resting his elbows on the desk...

"Jessica Heart... that is your name correct?" The man spoke again... the tone growing more menacing, but the volume never raised.

"What were you doing on a vessel over Kraven territorial areas?" the man continued.. she couldn't speak... she had been...violated... her instinct was to fight to fight to FIGHT ... but she was tied... so so tired of everything/

Baby, wake up...

"I am Reichmarshal Helghan... I am the head of the secret Police...."

Jessica shouted back at the man. "Dont mock me... you've been interrogating me every day now for three months..."


"Aaaahh... and theres that fire, I do so enjoy our conversations!" Helghan sat back in his seat, he smiled and waved a hand...

Jessica wanted to scream at him again. Call him bastard. Call him depraved. Call him the evil narcissistic psychopath that he was.

The wall behind her began to drop slowly into the floor revealing a plexiglass screen and several people sat watching intently, they all wore scientist uniforms and most notably were not from Kraven...

Jessica.... JESSICA... Wake up!

"I've got a surprise for you..." Helghan spoke, waving another hand as several other officers wearing white coats walked in, they pushed in two trolleys one was the exact height of Jessica, or so she could gage, the other was a metal trolley that had an entire metal skeleton rested upon it, with each individual component to complete an entire human skeleton...

"That my dear" Helghan pointed towards the skeleton... "is going into you.." he tapped her hand with a finger... it was ice cold ... inhumanly cold... colder than any winter she'd ever experienced.


Quickly, the medical officers strapped her to the bed..she tried to resist, but her body wouldn't obey... something that they did to her... something wouldn't let her fight.

They cut into her fingers, she screamed...

JESSICA!

Jessica Heart woke up screaming... she swung her fist at the voice next to her, but he grabbed her.. and pulled her close to him... He was warm...

Breathing heavily, she blinked the tears away from her eyes and slowly came back to the waking world.. She was home. She was safe. The warm man was her husband Lucas, the father of her twin children, her rescuer from that terrible time so very long ago.

As she stopped thrashing she felt his arms move tighter around her.

It's ok, you're home...you're safe...it was just a dream.

Jessica shook her head, her long red hair shaking about. But it wasn't just a dream was it?

Her husband Lucas kissed her forehead, kind grey eyes closing just a moment. His short brown hair was showing just the slightest hints of grey. He rocked her back and forth.

It's getting worse isn't it?

Jessica shook her head again, I know what you're thinking... I don't want to send the High Council into a panic over one of my nightmares....empath or not.

You know what I'm thinking because we've been married for fifteen years. Not because of anything they did to you. And I don't think Sir Vincent is one to panic.

Years ago, when she had been captured by Kraven forces, the Reichmarshal had installed a powerful Kraven relay inside her skull. It was designed to control her, to force her to become one of Kraven's minions.. but it had backfired. When she was rescued, she not only could resist the implant but had turned it against it's master. She could hear the relay, control it, drive those connected to the Kraven relay mad with her concentrated will.

But that had been long ago. When the Kraven vanished, so had the pain and the power. However, the nightmares had returned. And those closest to her were worried it was a sign of things to come. That Kraven had once again picked up arms to wage war upon mankind.

Lady Jessica Heart: Heroine of Havensky - Secretary of State - Former Admiral of the White Humanitarian Fleet - Wife of Sir Ironheart - The Butcher's End, stood up from her bed and reached out with her titanium arm for her tablet - now blinking red with a message.

Lady Jessica, Sir Ironwing... Your presence is requested at the Palace..

Jessica's heart sank. It wasn't just nightmares. A summons at this time of night only meant one thing. Kraven had indeed returned.

[Havensky]

Fourhearts Palace
Crystal City, Havensky

All the major government officials were within walking distance of the palace and so Lady Jessica and Sir Ironwing choose to simply walk to the Palace. They walked down the lane escorted by their normal guard of six, plus the palace had sent over an additional six guards.

Jessica had been assigned escorts ever since she had been rescued despite her regular protests. But given her importance, it wasn't unimaginable that she would be a target.

The pair were wearing their dress uniforms, dark black with red stripes down the sides. Both had white sashes across the front showing their knighted status. They were both quiet, lost in their own thoughts.

For Lucas Ironwing, his thoughts were turned to his students at the Havensky Military Academy. After the birth of their children, Lucas had resigned his commission and was hired at the academy to teach military leadership. It sounded like a vague and broad subject, but he had taught a special class to officer candidates in the Legion about advanced special tactics. Lucas didn't teach any particular tactic, but how to think on their feet and train their subordinates to be clever and tricky. Too many of their potential foes all tried to get their soldiers in lock step. They thought too much alike. Skyan officers needed to be creative. To take initiative. They'd need this line of thinking in the coming months.

Lucas was also concerned for his wife. It had been a constant battle against post traumatic stress syndrome. With time, it had been better. However, in the last few weeks it had gotten worse. He worried that it may mean the relay had activated again, and it turned out he was right.

They were escorted inside and to a conference room on the top floor. The room had mahogany panels and a vast plexiglass screen that took the space of the entire back wall. On the screen was a map of the Gholgoth, red lines drawn to indicate the Kraven positions.

In front of the screen was a large glass round table - with digital information placed at the fingertips of those at the table. Several maps of Skyan fleet locations, potential Kraven targets, and the latest intel report all displayed on the screen. At the table sat High Executor Vincent Profecta, Sky Marshal Markus Titan, Prime Minister Elizabeth Artemis, and King Drake.

The pair bowed upon seeing the King, who beckoned them to sit. The King was dressed in a simple suit with no tie as the hour was late. The military officer was of course dressed in full uniform. Profecta was in a plain white shirt, and Elizabeth in sweatpants and her college hoodie. The Prime Minister had the farthest to travel, with the Senate being in session, had rolled straight from bed to make the meeting. Nobody judged with it being two in the morning.

Thank you for coming at so late an hour. Please, we have much to discuss. Would you like some coffee?.

Jessica nodded as she sat down in the seat pulled out for her by Lucas. Drake may be King, but he had never put on airs preferring to be a man of the people. The King poured two cups while Titan gave his report.

Kraven forces began to launch heavy shells fired from artillery pieces pulled by rail. Thier current interest appears to be a regional conflict.

Jessica turned to the High Admiral, I thought that the Gothic Lords had some kind of alliance and wouldn't fight the other... not that it hasn't happened before... Wait.. how long have you been watching Gholgoth?

Titus swallowed hard, Six months m'lady

Lucas stood his face turning red, Six months? And you're just now telling us? Jessica's been having nightmares for months! We thought it was a relapse ... not to mention all the work that she could have been doing to prepare! How dare you keep this from-

That's enough Sir Lucas.. interrupted High Executor Vincent Profecta. Need I remind you whose company you now address?

King Drake raised a hand, Now, now - Lucas has a right to be angry, as does Jessica. We've kept them in the dark long enough. It was my idea. We needed to know if the relay was still active. The doctors felt that if you knew of the activity, you would suppress the connection. We needed to verify it independently. Now that you know, we can get to work on our response. You'll have to forgive me. I didn't want to frighten you.

A determined look crossed her face, I am many things. Frightened is not one of them. Gentleman, I have nightmares - not cancer. And if anyone doubts my willingness to fight they better speak now. Otherwise, I do not want another word of it spoken.

The prime minister smiled, There is no doubt m'lady. I was going to request your help on that front. The isolationist party will certainly object to a humanitarian mission. I will began rallying support, but without a credible threat they won't budge. I still feel we will have the votes, but a statement of support would go a long way.

A courier entered the room and dropped a slip of paper to the King, High Executor, and Prime Minister. The King read it passing a note to Jessica and Lucas.

Kraven Officer spotted in Port Pravoka. Asked for information on *Miss* Jessica Heart. Threatened port via Destroyer barrage. Kraven forces then withdrew. Please advise on further action.

The High Executor spoke again, Votes or not. I want Lady Heart's guard doubled. If Kraven is sending these messages then they clearly have not forgotten. Admiral: Have the humanitarian and expeditionary fleets begin consolidating. If we go, we'll go full force.

The King read the message again, It's interesting that they refer to Lady Jessica as *Miss* Jessica.. as if time has frozen and she is still a nurse instead of married, knighted, and a very important member of High Command. As if Jessica is some kind of computer bug that the Kraven AI keeps trying to figure out.

In that case,, said the High Executor Let's double Sir Lucas' guard as well. They certainly wouldn't have forgotten who closed the Butcher's shop.

Lucas grimaced. During the rescue, long before he had married Jessica, he had fought one of Kraven's lead scientists. The Butcher they had called him and his work included experiments beyond humankind. He had ended his life, destroyed the facility. He always felt guilty for not being able to save more. Instead, he had ended not only the Butcher's life - but those he had hooked up to machines. Doctors had told him that they were already dead - in a sort of vegetative state. He never felt great about it. The King had knighted him for that. His students called him "The Butcher's End" as a token of respect. He didn't really like the term.

Of course, can I tell my students? I imagine they'll get orders if worst comes to worst.

The High Executor nodded, Tell them, but keep them quiet. We don't want to go public just yet.

[Havensky]

HA!...clink..clink..CLANG!

Havensky Military Academy - Advanced Tactics Class
Crystal City, Havensky

Tycho Onyx raised his shield moments before the sharp end of Gavin Squall's sword thrust forward, throwing Gavin off a foot. Servomotors from the power armor whirred as Gavin quickly retreated. Tycho took the opportunity to make his own thrusting move which was quickly feinted by Gavin.

Behind them, Lucas Ironwing sat watching - saying nothing as his two students dueled. From his vantage point, the two students looked like white knights fighting it out. Power armor was a mashup between robotic augmentations and protective armor. On the outside, white kevlar with the Havensky Military Academy markings. On the inside, a robotic exoskeleton provided extra strength and endurance to the user's arms and legs. The back of the armor held the power source as well as storage container. The helmet was equipped with a thick bulletproof clear visor that doubled as a heads up display.

Tycho swung again causing Gavin to reverse again. If Gavin wasn't careful, he'd run out of maneuvering room. Ironwing was annoyed at the pair. Tycho was being too aggressive and Gavin too cautious.

Ironwing got up and picked up a sword. The next big swing Tycho took, he gracefully brought his sword up perpendicular to Tycho's causing it to fly from Tycho's hand and clash against the wall with a clang. Tycho's jaw dropped and Gavin froze long enough for Ironwing to turn his body and bring his sword down hard the shoulder of Gavin's power armor. Gavin's training armor buzzed, sending an unpleasant shock to Gavin.

Ouch!

Ironwing walked up to Tycho, then hit him on the back of the head with the sword sending a buzz to his head.

Oww!

Ironwing paced in front of the class before addressing the duelists. Gavin, you need to learn not to be so shy in exploiting the enemy weakness. Rope-a-dope is fine and dandy, but you let yourself get boxed into a corner. That only works when you can maneuver around without impediment. In real combat, they are supply lines - bases - and sometimes civilians that are behind you. Have to keep that in mind, I've told you this.

And Tycho, you're relying too much on the power armor. Yes, it's gives you greater strength, but not greater control. You have to ignore the suit - otherwise you grow to depend on it too much. Gentlemen, this isn't basic Power Armor 101, this is Advanced Tactics. You are supposed to be squad leaders soon! You better believe your NCOs can tell when you're faking it.

Ironwing turned to the class, Does anyone remember why we have you carry weights around your ankles and wrists?

Tycho remarked with a grin, To get the muscles and the babes....

The class laughed, Ironwing turned to the pair and hit a button on the back of their power armor necks. The suit stopped it's hum as it powered down. The pair shoot each other a sideways glance.

Ironwing smiled, Front lean and rest positioooooooon... MOVE

Gavin and Tycho moved quickly into a pushup position. Ironwing turned back to the class.

UP, Gavin and Tycho moved to do the push-up staying in the up position with the extra weight of the armor weighing heavy on their backs. Ironwing continued, We have you wear weights to you become strong enough to move without power. So you control the suit, not the other way around. I know it's tempting to use the suit's power to do things that you wouldn't be able to do without it. Throw a hundred yard football pass with the same effort as throwing a scrap piece of paper. Sprinting five miles and not breaking a sweat. But the point isn't to make you supermen. The point is to allow you to operate in hostile conditions for longer periods of time safely because you are heavily armed, armored and connected with the battle network needed to win even if outnumbered.

Ironwing looked over at Gavin and Tycho.. so far they were managing. Down......UP!

I have some news that you must not share with anyone. The Kraven Corporation has begun active operations.

The class grew serious. Many of them were not old enough to remember the last war, but they had studied it plenty. They knew that the world was a more dangerous place with Kraven around. Some students relished the thought to go to battle against Kraven. Others nodded, taking in the weight of the news. A few appreciated the fact that they were being trusted with this information.

Ironwing continued, They have not ventured out of their region, but we must prepare for the possibility. That being the case, we are graduating you early at the Winter Ball instead of the normal Spring Commencement. Those who are failing their classes now, you'll stay behind. Otherwise, you'll be getting new units.

Remember, when you get assigned to our unit you have three jobs. The first is to protect your men. The second is to make them leaders, and the third to to accomplish your mission. Trust your NCOs, don't be afraid to lean on them. They'll appreciate it more when you ask for help rather than do something stupid - which some of you...Tycho...are bound to do.

Ironwing looked over at the pair, now visibly struggling to stay in the up position.

Legion: ATTENTION

The class, including the pair, quickly stood up to the position of attention. Ironwing walked up behind Tycho speaking quietly in his ear.

Lt. Onyx, my wife is quite fond of her pilot. Try not to make jokes referring to her as 'babe'. Lt. Chispa is an officer of the Armada after all.

Ironwing walked back around, You're receive further details on your tablet - class dismissed.

[Milograd]

++++++++++++++++++
Argyz, Milograd
Gholgoth
++++++++++++++++++

It would be misleading to say that Milograd's victory in the Atraezan War was short-lived: it never lived at all. The newly-inaugurated Dh'arco Rahavuhra Varrak lacked both the experience and leadership of his predecessor. His High Command broke into factions with differing views on how to rebuild in the war's aftermath and how to proceed with dealing with the increasingly toxic succession crisis in the Freekish Empire. Varrak and the R.I. Directors insisted on three demands: state funds should be invested in rebuilding and fortification, the Hivemind would have be restored, and Azrael's spot on the Freekish throne would have to be recognized. The military-led opposition favored leaving the Gothic alliance for the sake of total isolation and militarily preparing for the nation's next inevitable clash with the Kraven Reich.

Like any Milogradian political battle, though, both parties walked away from the incident without success. Varrak exercised his right to purge the entirety of his opposition in the High Command and was consequently left with an inexperienced bureaucracy that accomplished nothing but starving almost an entire continent. Under the leadership of Varrak, every Gothic monetary contribution to the Recovery Initiative went to waste. Meanwhile, record amounts of citizens and workers escaped the island and rebellions were rampant in every one of the remaining High 35 cities, and the administration swiftly fell to the mercy of the people they once owned. Most Milogradian ministers fled Atraeza and the Gholgothic region altogether after merely eight weeks.

That was awhile ago. Now, as the Kravenites made their advance, the streets of Argyz were littered with abandoned and burning police APV's, debris that was left over from the Reich's bombardment of the city, and the occasional corpse. Corpses were very common in the immediate aftermath of the war, but the streets almost seemed to clean themselves as desperate Milogradians abducted them for food. At this point, they were almost a delicacy in Argyz. Survivors in the capital organized themselves into local gangs and tended to stay inside their apartment complexes or in the city's pipelines until night. Then, they'd "conquer" new apartment buildings for their group, attack opposing gangs who posed a threat to their food supply, and scavenge for food under the veil of darkness.

Kravenite explosives were all too familiar to the people of Argyz, but the fusillade of missiles that showered over the high-rises of the former Milogradian capital were met with silence. The sirens, city-wide announcements, radio warnings, and police units that once greeted the Kravenites were absent. A year before, the people of Atraeza narrowly survived a Kravenite invasion with the entirety of the Dh'arconian State's resources at their disposal and with the aid of the mighty Gothic Alliance. Their ability to survive another Kravenite invasion was not a question. They would be alone in their salvation and in their suffering.

[Dephire]

Ghray, Briska
The Fortress Continent, Gholgoth

"Emperor Skragg, the reports have confirmed that the Reich is on the move once more. They have begun bombarding the decaying nation of Milograd," Grand Master Templar Menias Volthe was delivering the message, "As of now, no word has come from that nation... All voices of Milograd have been silenced since the Reich's last attempts."

Tristan Skragg sat upon the fiery golden throne as his friend gave the report. He knew the Reich would rekindle its fire.. It was only a matter of time. "The Reich has made their move. We will commence no operations until we know what our fellow brothers wish to do. I am a man of peace and justice, but there are things even I should not tinker in. Make sure our armadas are ready for whatever may come. Put our military on high alert. We may need to defend the Fortress Continent from unwanted attention."

Menias was confused about his emperor's decision. "Does he mean to let Milograd fall to the Kravenites? Surely he's just delaying our involvement.." He bowed and obeyed Tristan. All members of High Command were put on high alert. Dephire's factories were in full power. All soldiers were put back into active status. Every plane and ship was rearmed and ready to swarm.

The Sword and Shields of the Fortress Continent were engaged. Let the Darkness consume all.

{OOC: As always, short and sweet.}

[Schultaria Prime]

"Remember this, and remember well. Air power advances, and armies may annex, but without cargo... you can't conquer."
-Jenn Roalsky, Speech to the inaugural class of the SKC Merchant Marine Academy, SDC 11.

SSS Atropos
Zivot Bay, Northwestern Milograd

Despite usual assurances from the the Central Office, the trip from Varathon from the Schultarian mainland had become another glitch-infested headache to the Atropos' weary crew. First was the blown head-gasket to the starboard engine, which crippled the ship until a Designwerks Tech could be flown from the mainland into whatever god-forsaken port could fit the half-kilometer long behemoth. Then came the improperly signed cargo manifests while moored in the United Dominion... two weeks of fun arguments and passive-aggressive threats with Customs Authorities while the ship was picked apart container by container.

The Gholgoth leg had been more benign by comparison. A few faults with the galley stove... the Greenhorns accidentally flushing bilge water into the engineering compartment. Annoying, but nothing worth writing home about, until the ship started to shake uncontrollably below decks.

Nestled about 450 km north of Turak, between the shores of the Reich and the remnants of Argyz, Zivot Bay was one of the few places the crew could make a break for as the Atropos began to disintegrate from the inside out. Milograd was hardly the kind of place to set anchor, even before the Atraezan War, but the crew felt relatively safe. The bay was wide enough to afford a reasonable view of any threats, but concealed enough to be protected from the squalls that would inevitably come and whip the coastline.

The Atropos, its massive ovoid hull bereft of light in the murky glow of the pre-dawn sky, was a hive of activity below deck as she shuddered to a halt. Deep within the bowels, dozens of crew members hoisted wrenches and winches that defied the laws of common sense, loosening bolts and fasteners to machines the size of grain silos under the pale beams of battery-powered emergency lights. As panels were unfastened and pools of oil drained by hand, the crew could only shake their heads. Her once mighty engines, designed to feed, clothe, and clad the Schultarian economy a half-billion kilograms at a time, were a mass of bent steel, shaved chromium, and salt water.

On the bridge, Captain Paulo Dermott puffed on a loosely-rolled cigarette while the chief engineer did his best to try and describe the damage. No metaphor or story could really soften the blow: Atropos was dead in the water until someone could tug her to port. As he slumped into his warm and worn chair, knowing just how much the repairs would cost his career, a faint glint of light caught the corner of his eye. Taking a long drag, he leaned against the armrest, tracing the streaks as they cut through the sky.

"You know what direction that is Murray? If we've still got a little juice in the batteries, tell the Navy to hurry with the tow job."

[Schultaria Prime]

SSS Forvelts
Shavanese - Milogradian Straights, Greater Gholgothic Ocean, Southwest Gholgoth

"Cap, it looks like we've got something. Freighter's reporting trouble and it sounds pretty serious." The ensign produced a piece of paper with smudged circles around a few of the more important lines... The morning's intelligence briefing, clipped to a binder of loose papers and negatives.

Captain Traver sighed as she read the orders. "Looks like they made it into Zivot Bay at least. Command asked us to go check it out - well, we're getting a little action today... finally."

Though the nation prided itself on its advanced technology and loudly boasted of its capabilities, the spartan bridge of the Ramon-class cruiser was far removed from the glimmer and bustle of home. The Navy preferred to be cautious with its front-line ships at least, not that they couldn't afford the upgrades.

Ever since contact had been severed with the Crimm Imperial Navy, the state had been in a panic to compensate for the loss of their military weight. Northwest Gholgoth was a big place and, although relatively stable, had seen enough troubles in recent times to be vigilant. First, the Atraezan War... then came the blockade... now the looming threat of piracy out of Milograd. Mothballed ships were rushed back into service while port facilities in Tarannu, Nassubu, and Edgen lurched to fill the gaps. Thousands of sailors, normally used to four month deployments, were put on extended duty cycles.

The Greater Gholgothic Ocean between the home islands of Mount Shavano and the former bastion of Milograd was of particular concern to the Naval Defense Forces. Varathon's economic might, first tapped by desperate shipping companies looking to offload their wares in safe ports during the depths of the Ghothic blockade, found ready markets for Schultarian products. Since then, Varathon-bound commerce became the next great economic game for the Schultaria's endless state-owned industries, with tens of trillions of merlons in customs duties and raw materials shifting back and forth. The Second Fleet, some 300 ships in all, were dispatched to patrol the waters to make sure civilian shipping - and the precious hard currency it carried - would sail unharmed.

Thousands of kilometers away, deep within the bunkers of the SID, intelligence officials were desperately trying to contact the Second Fleet's flagship to regroup. They, like so many other Ghothic states, had seen the evidence that Kraven was beginning to move. The last thing the government wanted was for any of their own to be caught in the crossfire.

Ever cautious, however, the radios on the cruiser had been powered down as she made her portside turn; the Navy had received numerous reports that plain-channel communications were used by local pirates to lure unsuspecting craft into ambushes. The covers on the cruiser's cannons and missile bays were unlocked, per the fleet's own rules of engagement, as the ship approached the shoreline. When the ship got close enough to the tanker then, and only then, would Captain Traver resume normal stations for the steam back home.

At a distance, the ship's posture was indistinguishable from any other on combat patrol. Flying the Milogradian standard on her stern, displayed by advance elements of the Second Fleet as a gesture of solidarity to the remnants of the High Command, the Forvelts swung around and steamed at full power towards the mouth of Zivot Bay.

[Havensky]

Havensky Military Academy - Headquarters Building
Crystal City, Havensky

Lt. Ariana Chispa stood watch outside the door of conference room where High Command was having their meeting. In the last few weeks, High Command had taken to having their meetings in random places for security reasons. As Lady Jessica's personal pilot she was 'inside' the security bubble and knew exactly what was going on. She was used to not being able to talk about what she heard inside the helijet or Lady Jessica's airship the HRA Bright Beacon.

Normally, she didn't care - but it annoyed her because she couldn't tell Tycho she was in town. The last few months she had been on the World Tour of the White Fleet going from port to port spreading well wishes and making friends. The Humanitarian Fleet had put on quite the show, but she missed Tycho. And now she was in the same building and couldn't say a word.

Orders.

Afternoon ma'am, two cadets on detail walked by and saluted sharply.

She returned the salute, her hand knocking against her helmet as she brought it back down to her hip. She was still in her pilot's gear, with her helmet attached to a clip on her belt. The green camouflage uniform was decorated with several differnet patches including a distinctive Raven Helijet patch and the crest of Lady Jessica Heart. Other bits were her Stallion Airship Class qualification badge and a few campaign patches from her time on the World Tour and various TDF exercises.

She looked back into the room to make sure everything was going ok.

So far, there's been no movement within Gholgoth towards Miliograd or Kraven proper. A few nations have begun mobilizing internally, but there's so far nobody in the region has stepped in.

Are we really going to leave the people of that island to their fate? Is there nothing we can do?

They're literally RIGHT next to the Kraven fortress. Any humanitarian fleet going in there unescorted is on a suicide run. We might as well launch a full scale invasion of Norska - which I can tell you now - not even *I* would vote for that insanity.

Ariana turned back to the front to be met with a tall man lifting up her and swinging her in a circle.

Tycho! Uniform!

Tycho Onyx set her down and flashed a smile, And I missed you too! Why didn't you tell me you were coming?

Orders, mi corazón, Ariana replied. Loose lips sink ships and all. Besides, what are YOU doing here. You're not supposed to be here.

I am too, Tycho insisted and flashed another smile. Ariana's expression told him he wasn''t buying it.

Actually he's right - we were summoned, came a voice down the hall. Gavin Squall walked up and gave Ariana a wave.

Good to see you again LT, Gavin said taking a peek inside the room.

So what else can we do? I don't like having no options Admiral.

We're consolidated the fleets and we're sending superhigh altitude drones over the area to keep an eye on things. But unless we get some other players on the board we're stuck. I know they threatened you - I know they're dangerous - but I won't send any forces in unless I know we can win. For that we need allies either in Gholgoth or much closer.

But even if we did have a close ally - Kraven's only threaten us. You're talking pre-emptive strike here. I want to knock the dog dead as much as you do, but we'd never justify it. The smarter thing would be to prepare a staunch defense of the coast in the event of an incursion.

We're still neglecting the main point - the people of Milograd. How far to people have to live in order for us to intervene?

Close enough to do it right. We'll save who we can Jessica. I promise.

Lucas Ironside stepped out from the room. Ah, I see you've arrived. Step inside please, you might as well be introduced now.

Ariana shot the pair a look as Gavin and Tyco walked inside the conference room.

Pardon the interruption ladies and gentleman. I wanted to introduce you to two additional members of Lady Jessica's augmented guard: 2nd Lieutenants Gavin Sqaull and Tycho Onyx.

The announcement made Tycho grin, but Gavin seemed less than thrilled. However, Gavin was suddenly aware that the King was in the room and quickly took a bow.

The King nodded in acknowledgment and the pair rose again. Ironside continued.

You may be wondering why you've been given this assignment instead of being sent to your own units. The reason is simple: The Skybound Republic needs somebody we can trust to protect Lady Jessica. As you two are my finest students, I felt this would be a good fit. You'll each be given a squad to train for the event of an attack.

A concerned look crossed Gavin's face, Is there a credible threat Sir?

Ironwing pointed to the screen, the face of the Kravenite officer in the Port Provoka bar in high resolution.

"We are looking for information on this person, Miss Jessica Heart, anyone forthcoming with information as to her whereabouts will be rewarded for their efforts..."

You might say we're concerned., muttered Ironwing

[Emperor Pudu]

There was at least one Dreadfire who had taken careful notice of the situation in south-western Gholgoth. It was the INS Pudu Xiang Wu, a Dreadfire-class dreadnought of the Imperial Pudite Navy.

Aboard it was Fleet Admiral Khudoi, in command of Task Force Six. In recent months, Khudoi's force had become a sort of rapid-reaction force for Pudite interests in Gholgoth; they had been on station near to the former territories of Holy Marsh to witness the collapse of that state into civil war. Now, they had a decidedly less civil conflict in their sights. The Kraven war machine cycling up for a new round of depredations was nothing new, and the Dominate had no direct security concern. Issues like this, however, have proven in the past to be the flashpoint for larger crises, and that was what Khudoi was on the lookout for.

Three days previously Ambassador Lucius Otho of the Pudite mission to Yohannes and senior Imperial diplomat in Gholgoth, had issued a missive to Khudoi politely requesting that the admiral take an interest in this matter. The ambassador had no command power, and he chose not to take the matter to Khudoi's superiors in the military or colonial administrations. This would be a venture that was off the books, as they say. Otho was primarily concerned with the interest non-Gholgothic parasites might take. A Goth was a prestigious target. At a time when Pudite prestige was already suffering, the ambassador and the admiral agreed that it wouldn't do to allow any slights to their name, by association or otherwise. A wounded animal is an animal at its most dangerous.

Far away to the south of the Fortress Continent and the theater of war there was a small Pudite colony, a lone island in the vast international seas. Pin-ta it was called, and it was close enough now to be of use. Admiral Khudoi turned the majority of his four-hundred odd ship fleet as if he was making for the naval base at Pin-ta. They would make the journey slowly, sailing west along the southern shore of Milograd before turning south at the western terminus of Varathron. Not all the ships would take this simple route, however.

Admiral Khudoi aboard his flagship and accompanied by eleven other vessels, including the battlecruiser INS Resplendent Sovereign and the carrier INS Auspicious Dynasty, would instead take the passage between Milograd and Norska. Any other time it would have been a tense journey, but now with the southern island descended into anarchy and their northern brothers mobilizing for a cross-channel invasion, it would have been madness for a neutral war fleet to traverse these seas. Madness, that is, had that fleet not been one belonging to a fellow Gothic Lord.

Only time would tell what Kraven’s true objectives were, but Admiral Khudoi was a patient man, and his masters had time to spare. The eyes of the Dominate were opened wide.

[Xirnium]

The film leader, in which there appeared edge lettering, torn sprocket perforations and dust particles, began with ‘16 sound start’ and ‘35 sound start’, then ‘picture start’ and a countdown. Counting from eight to two, the numbers appeared in the centre of a target with two white circles and a rotating clock-arm animation. During the four count, the letters ‘C C F F’ appeared around the countdown. At two, a quick beep was heard.

Then the newsreel began.

It showed what appeared to be a cross between a kind of operating theatre, a research laboratory and a prison cell. Within the busy room, men and women in white labcoats, neoprene viton gloves and safety glasses with side shields walked about with clipboards or attended to diagnostic biomedical equipment.

The title ‘Know Your Foe’ was splashed across the scene.

‘Every day, Eternal Republic scientists are looking for new ways to kill Capitol Police,’ announced the newsreel reader.

Dórottya Nalôrna, alias Theodora Feuillère, had worked as a sleeper agent in Pantocratoria before her involvement in the international effort to organise and supply underground resistance movements against the Kraven Corporation. The despatches mentioned her infiltration by parachute into occupied Whyatica, and her participation in partisan raids upon the concentration camp and extermination complex at Gidi, alongside agents of Havensky.

She was in military uniform, wearing jack-leather boots and spats, a Sam Brown belt, silver aiguillete and long-skirted greatcoat. Pressing a random button on one of the technological devices for effect, she turned to the camera and was captioned ‘military scientist’.

‘Your basic Sardaukar warrior isn’t too smart...’ Dórottya explained conversationally as she pulled the cocking handle on her ‘bullpup’-styled Feuer Model 89 assault rifle, chambering a round, ‘but you can hit the main body mass...’ she shouldered the weapon, turned to the cell where a Sardaukar paced indecisively and fired a long, three-second burst, ‘and it’s still 83 per cent combat effective.’

The pristine white prison cell was now splattered with bright green and yellow coolant and bright red blood. The Sardaukar had been thrown off his feet. Motors whirred, servos whined and something squeaked as he flailed about on the slippery tiles, tried to stand, stumbled and tripped over, and collided drunkenly with the walls.

‘Here’s a tip; aim for the “basal ganglia”...’ Dórottya shouldered her rifle again and looked carefully down the iron sights this time, ‘and put it down for good.’

The Sardaukar seemed aware of what was coming, somehow, and his vocoder emitted something that passed for a defiant roar. Dórottya depressed the trigger and fired again; a shorter, targeted burst this time. Bits of blood, brain and skull fragments splattered against the tiles, and the Sardaukar slumped to the floor with a final, defeated hiss.

Said the newsreel reader: ‘Would you like to know more...?’

[Dephire]

Fortress City of Hell's Gate, aka "The Reclaimed City"

It had been nearly nine months since the reclamation of Hell's Gate by the Templar Army, whose invasion was necessary in order to save Tristan Skragg. The battles which raged deep inside the city's massive walls were not very destructive, per instructions by the Templar General Menias Volthe. He believed the people were not to suffer and to only target military personnel. However, despite their efforts, the Dark King ordered the Leviathan, Briska's highly advanced military satellite, to be "hurled" at the city in attempt to not only defeat the entirety of the Templar Army, but also kill Tristan. What the Dark King feared was that Tristan would reclaim his true power. In the final moments of the massive satellite's fall, Tristan ascended the mighty tower of Hell Gate's prison and created a barrier that protected most of the city, and his army. A large statue was built in the center of the city, at the top of the tower Tristan stood. A sight all could see from miles around. Large angelic wings were spread from the statue's shoulders as the likeness of Tristan held out his hand toward the Leviathan. Only a handful of people know the true power Tristan unlocked that day, but that was classified information turned legend...

As was most of the Fortress Continent, Hell's Gate was bustling with activity. Tristan ordered that every weapon-producing factory been operational just in-case the Reich stirred. It was not for the protection from the Reich, however, but for the preservation of the Continent. After the war, the Phoenix Emperor believed that any actions against the Fortress Continent would be an action that would put his people in jeopardy. Weapons needed to be built for the defense, the shield, of the Continent. Wilhelm, the Dark King's former right-hand and now advisor to Tristan, was the governor of Hell's Gate.

"Tristan needs all available arms ready for any impending attacks. We are this realm's Shield. If we fall, our people will die!" Wilhelm made his best attempts at enticing the many factory workers through large screens, which all displayed his likeness at the thousands of factories. He was still recovering after the connection to Delthar was finally severed during near the end of the Final War.

A man walked into Wilhelm's chamber, "Sir, we are producing hundreds of fighters a minute. Weapons pour out by the thousands. Bullets are flying by the millions. We are prepared for quite a battle."

"Good. The Phoenix Emperor will be pleased to hear my report. Do we have our soldiers being prepared?" Wilhelm, dressed in all black with silver pauldrons.

"We have twenty-five million soldiers prepared... Unfortunately, they are only going to be Hell Knight capable."

Wilhelm banged his hand against the mahogany table, "Damn! We need more soldiers and they need to be better trained!"

"Yes, mi'lord, we should have a full fifty million by week's end if we work hard. They could be Godsend Knight capable with the proper push," the man bowed.

Wilhelm smiled, "This will please Tristan most graciously. Make it so."

========================================================================================

San Salvadorea

The mega-city of San Salvadorea exploded in growth since the war as in now expanded almost entirely along the Demilitarized Zone between Dephire and the Kraven Reich. Though the two were considered brother nations, it was deemed necessary to build a DMZ between the two to spoil any desires to try and overtake the other. San Salvadorea was one of the most powerful military cities in all of Dephire, and was now equipped with monstrous rail cannons, and nearly one-quarter of the entire army and air force. It was bustling in preparation for whatever was to come, if anything was to ever come. Thousands of aircraft took to the skies every hour to ensure proper functionality and maintenance. Tanks were also being pumped out of the factories non-stop. No army from outside the Dephirian subcontinent would ever see the full might of its armies, nor should they ever... But not this time. Dephire as a whole was in a "feeding" frenzy. Their brothers across the line had a small head start in production, but the hundreds of thousands of factories would quickly make up for lost time.

During the end of Renuvian's reign and throughout the short-lived reign of the Dark King, hundreds of massive secret factories were creating millions of super-soldiers to help bolster the armies. Though he disliked using them, the soldiers had no place to go once their king fell.

Ghray, Capitol of Briska

The Phoenix Emperor, Tristan Skragg, sat upon his throne. He did not ask for the title, nor a throne itself, but it was a request from his people that he sat upon a throne and ruled the Dephirian subcontinent. The young man was already scarred from too many wars for his age. He appeared somewhat distant, as if he had experienced a thousand lifetimes, but this young ruler was emperor over all. With the twin blades sheathed into the arm rests of his throne and God's Bane sheathed into the back of the throne, none dared try to get on his bad side. However, Tristan was the forgiving ruler...

Ghray, along with the neighboring city of Galva, were now the main ports for the Imperial Armada, a naval force of legendary power. The Templar Armada had moved into Hammerfest, a large naval base northeast of Hell's Gate. From his throne, Tristan could look out to the ocean and see his armada anchored on the horizon. Hundreds, if not thousands, of aircraft flew overhead. His military arm was in full-swing, but this was only a small test. With the Templar Grand Master Menias Volthe as his second-in-command, Tristan was a formidable man.

"Emperor, my staff have reported fifty million soldiers will be prepared and ready by week's end," Wilhelm was reporting via video communicator. Tristan felt that the military flexing was not truly necessary until the Reich called for aid, but he did know that preparations were needed.

"That is good news, Wilhelm, thank you for the report," Tristan replied in a quiet tone. He saw a hand rest on his arm as Menias leaned in.

"Fifty million by week's end? That is extremely over the top.... We only needed a few million to be honest... Hell, I am not even sure we will need anyone at this rate. We still have the entire army including the Templars, " Menais spoke in a hushed voice.

"I know, Menias. He's just trying to do what he can to be supportive. Wilhelm wants to atone for all of the sins he caused while his mind was controlled by the Demon."

"Well, yes... But at some point he must be sounding way too desperate," Menias let go of Tristan's arm and walked a few steps away from the throne, "Besides, how long until remission?"

Tristan looked away from his friend, "That is not an option. He will be contained at every possible means. In any sense, he would not dare try to turn against me..."

"My friend, it wouldn't be by his choice. His mind was nearly lost while under Vega's rule, and we must accept that we may have to dispose of him if he starts to show the signs again."

"Enough, Menias. You have made your point. I will see if our brothers can share some... insight into if there is a way to either completely remove the cybernetics or a way to at least suppress his degradation," Tristan stood from his throne, to which he then turned to. Slowly he unsheathed the twin swords from their rightful places and slid them into the sheathes at his sides. He did the same to God's Bane, "In the meantime, we have soldiers to prepare."

[Havensky]

Ironwing Residence
Crystal City, The Skybound Republic of Havensky

Lady Jessica was about to sit down for dinner with her family when the doorbell rang. Lucas had cooked a very large batch of Texas chili and was pouring a glass of Malbec for her, root beer for the kids, and a Lone Star Beer for himself.

I’ll get it, she said walking from the hardwood kitchen table to the front door. The Ironwings lived in a condo building in Crystal City’s “Ruby Circle” neighborhood. The buildings in the neighborhood were just outside the capitol district and were a favorite for senior government officials and Senate members who wanted a quick commute. The Ruby Circle condos had mixed the units so that security staff assigned to high level members could afford to live just next door.

The condo was decorated with trinkets from Jessica’s travels as Secretary of State. A tribal mask here, a shield there, and small painting hung up above the mantel. She was dressed comfortably in jeans and a short sleeved shirt as Havensky was warm all year around — her red hair tucked into a neat ponytail. Her boots clacking against the hardwood floor.
She opened the door and her eyes went wide.

BY THE SKY! Dórottya! What are you doing here?! Come in! Come in! Come IN!

Dórottya Nalôrna had aged slightly in the eight years which had passed since the famous newsreel footage from which most of the Havensky officer cadets would probably have recognised her, but now at 40 she still looked the same as she had the last time she had visited the Ironwings in the Crystal City. She wore a natty, oat-coloured undress uniform with summer shirtsleeve order of white blouse and pistolled cross-belt, and bared a short span of leg between a slim, knee-length skirt and high, polished, jack-leather boots with heels.

Jessica… Dórottya replied, walking in the door and into the excited embrace of the other woman. Dórottya returned her hug awkwardly, still holding her bags and with a pair of long guncases over her shoulder. Jessica turned her head to see a girl of about 19 with long, blonde hair who had walked in right behind Dórottya.

And Edwige! Come give your aunt a hug!

Edwige, who was carrying a valise, smilingly hopped into her aunt Jessica’s arms and accepted her hug, greeting her, laughing, with a cutely respectful lamàl, short for “I kiss your hand”.

Lucas came into the living room followed by the twins Jason and Victoria with a grin on his face.

Aunt Nal! Edwigee!, the kids shouted running up to the pair and giving hugs.

Victurnien sends his love, Dórottya told Lucas and Jessica apologetically, giving each twin a materteral kiss on top of their head. He wasn’t able to take any time off work. She smiled thinly. They’ve really grown, haven’t they? she asked, touching Victoria’s red hair.

Young man, you’ve been practicing your 99-yard passes, haven’t you? she said jokingly, squeezing Jason’s shoulder. Soon you’ll be old enough to date!

Mom… Edwige smiled shyly and her mother put an arm around her waist.

Jessica turned to Lucas and back to Dórottya. You knew about this didn’t you Lucas?

Dórottya looked sheepish and turned to Lucas. Lucas handed wine to both ladies and grabbed Dórottya’s luggage. Her officer’s épée was carried discreetly in a modified guncase.

Profecta’s idea. With all that’s going on we thought it be useful to get the old gang back together. Technically, she’s here to attend the Ball at the Academy next week and give a lecture — but really we just wanted to surprise you with a visit.

Dórottya nodded. Thank you so much for allowing us into your home, she said to both.

The old gang? Edwige asked her mother, smiling enquiringly.

Didn’t you know; your aunt and uncle and I used to work together, a long time ago. Before you were born. Dórottya pursed her lips.

Dórottya had been part of the rescue squadron that had first found Jessica while she had been imprisoned by Kraven. She had seen horrors during that mission which she would never forget. In the following months after the rescue, Dórottya had become a close confidant of Jessica’s as they had hunted other Kraven Butcher facilities. When Lucas proposed, Dórottya was the Maid of Honor at their wedding. Their children may not have been related by blood, but they were all close.

We have so much catching up to do, Dórottya said cryptically. The Kraven Corporation was not something she could ever talk about with her daughter, not even really with her husband, Victurnien.

Jessica smiled, with her empathic visions acting up it would be a great comfort to have Dórottya here. Lucas had thought of everything in terms of her cover and logistics. To anyone on the outside, it seemed perfectly natural for Dórottya to be giving a guest lecture giving her position at the Xirniumite Staff College. Nobody would suspect she was being brought in for a high level meeting on the latest Kraven threat.

[Emperor Pudu]

There was a light breeze in the cool night air, Admiral Khudoi only knew that from the weather reports, however; standing on the deck of a ship cruising at twenty four knots, there was bound to be some wind in your face. The admiral was enjoying a cigarette, probably his tenth or eleventh tonight; he had heard from foreigners he spoke to that cigarette smoking was bad for the lungs. Sometimes that gave him pause, but not now. The Imperial Armed Forces issued cigarette rations not for the lungs, but for the nerves. Knudoi needed a smoke tonight. A few hours previously he had gotten the intelligence reports from the reconnaissance service back in the capital. Their satellites had picked up massive Kraven fleet deployments. The invasion was about to begin. He took another drag from his Crusader-brand filterless; the only kind he ever smoked. The breeze carried a trail of smoke away from him, whipping around the conning tower and back, into the inky night.

"Admiral." A voice called from the door behind him, "Sir, we've got positive contact, it can't be anything other than the Reich's fleet, sir." Khudoi didn't turn around. He stared at the horizon, barely visible between the dark skies and equally dark ocean below, "Confirmed, I'll be in shortly." The officer saluted, probably, Khudoi didn't bother to look and see. He heard the door close behind him. He imagined the Kravenite fleet crossing that horizon; what a sight it must be. Khudoi was no stranger to the Kraven Reich, but he had only ever seen one of their dreadnoughts in fleet intelligence silhouettes and satellite photos. He wasn't sure if he wanted to see one up close. The admiral took a final drag on the cigarette and dropped it into a sanitary receptacle beside him. One couldn't go flicking lit cigarettes around on a warship.

Khudoi ducked inside and up a quick flight of stairs. He arrived on the bridge to find his XO and other senior officers waiting for him. "We were down in the CIC, but we heard you were up here," one of them said. The admiral grunted, "Heard right. What's the picture out there." The first to speak was his executive officer, "We've got more than a thousand contacts on radar. As soon as we painted them they hit us with weapons targeting radar. I don't think they like us peeking. We've backed the sensors down." Khudoi chuckled, "No, I expect they don't. What ID's did you get when you painted them?" he asked, "We've got your usual escorts, a few carriers, and even some of the big gun boys, but you'll like this the best, They've got The Executioner. She's almost twice our size, if you don't remember the files." Said from aboard a ship herself thirteen hundred meters long, that was quite a statement. Khudoi remembered the files. Understandably, the admiral was suitably impressed by the notion of her proximity. "And their heading?" he inquired, "As you'd expect, appear to be heading directly across the channel." Khudoi stood silently for a moment. He found himself wishing for another cigarette, and then he wondered if they really were unhealthy. Not important now.

"We have two choices here, it seems," Khudoi began finally, "Pretty soon all this is going to be an internal sea of the Kraven Reich. We've got to scatter or make ourselves welcome. Given our orders, it seems we're down to just one option. Someone get me a line to that dreadnought, whoever's in command will probably be there." The staff saluted and dispersed, Khudoi followed his XO down to the CIC where they would put out the call. Broadcast on standard Gholgothic coms frequencies, unencrypted, the following message would be picked up by all ships in the area:

This is Fleet Admiral Khudoi of the Imperial Pudite Navy, looking for a copy from 'The Executioner' or other allied vessels.

[Havensky]

Havensky Military Academy
Crystal City, Havensky
Texas Region

Graduation Day.

Normally, the Havensky Military Academy would hold graduation in the middle of January. However, with the recent attack on Milograd by the the Kraven Reich as well on the threats against Secretary of State Jessica Heart, it was decided to accelerate the schedule. By cutting out some rest days, some of the time needed for unit assignment, and by combining the Winter Ball and Graduation they could do graduation day today.

High Command had also decided to use the opportunity to address the world regarding the two incidents. The media hadn’t caught wind of the Pravoka incident, but it was only a matter of time. Additionally, the media had taken notice of the unusual quietness from the His Majesty’s Government.

The inside of the Grand Hall was decorated with the battle flags of the Skyan Legion. The marble halls echoed with the sounds of graduating legionaries marching in wearing power armor. Large broadswords hung at their sides and each graduate carried a heavy shield. To an outsider, they would have looked like a small army of knights.

In the first row, stood the graduates of the Centurion Officer Candidate School of which included Gavin Squall and Tycho Onyx dressed in scarlet armor.

The stage stood five feet high with Havensky and Texas flags lined up behind the row of chairs where the honor party would be seated. A large podium stood in the center of the stage with the seal of the Havensky Legion adorned at the center. Just in front of the stage, a row of cameras were fixated on the podium. Newscasters were commenting on the history of conflicts between Havensky and the Kraven Reich and what the latest aggression by Kraven’s naval forces might mean for Havensky.

The honor party included several academy staff and Secretary of State Jessica Heart. Gavin Squall, as the top student, gave the command to salute. All at once, the graduates saluted - the metallic sound of a hundred swords being pulled from their sheaths echoing through the hall.

Jessica stepped up to the podium to begin her speech. This was an unusual move and threw the newscasters off. Normally, graduation ceremonies had a lot more pomp and tradition. Going to the keynote right away was very odd.

ORDER…ARMS!

The swords returned to their sheaths and Jessica began her speech.

Good afternoon,

I am pleased to be speaking at this important occasion. The graduates gathered have worked hard to become Legionaries - the defenders of our people.

Many of you know that my husband, Lucas Ironwing, teaches at this academy. He is very proud of his students and I’m sure his fellow cadre feel the same way. The King of Havensky would not only like to express how proud he is of our graduates, but that they have chosen to take the hard job.

The Airship Armada dominates the skies - aiding our region in defending against raiders. The White Fleet, our humanitarian fleet, is in the darkest most troubled corners of the globe delivering aid and comfort to those in need.

But the Legion has the hard job. When times get hard and the monsters appear at our door - it is the Legion that we send. When the world ignores the cries of the oppressed and the masses cry out for freedom - it is the Legion that we send. When our allies call for aid - it is the Legion that we send.

I’m sure many of you are wondering, the world grows darker and colder and more dangerous, if the time is coming when we shall stop calling the Legion. If there will come a time when the White Fleet goes nowhere, despite the troubles of the world. That when our allies call, there will be no one to answer.

If that time is to come, it has certainly not come now.

We condemn The Kraven Corporation’s recent incursion into the area of former Milograd. This attack was launched unprovoked. This attack continues to indiscriminately target civilian and military targets alike. This attack does nothing to increase the security of their region. Indeed, an abandoned people, they posed no threat to anyone. Their only crime was to be born into a country that shared a border with the Kraven Reich.

We lament the lack of response from the Gothic Lords of Gholgoth. The Skyan People have no interest in interfering in the affairs of other regions, but it is not without regret that we note that the people of that island will suffer annihilation with no defenders - much less a protest from neighboring governments.

It should be noted that the Kraven Reich has been so quiet. We note that the tyrants have demanded tribute, and ships of prisoners - forsaken by their own government - now set sail for the Fortress Island. We condemn these nations. It matters not if they took these actions out of fear or malice. These are despicable actions.

Let this be known: The People of Havensky have hearts that are not so cold. We, and our allies, stand ready to deliver humanitarian aid to any people of this world regardless of their hardship. This has not changed. Ask, and we shall answer. Let this be known: The People of Havensky are unafraid. We will defend our allies regardless of the foe. Ask, and we shall answer. Let this be known: Any nation that values freedom, and justice, and empowerment of the people shall have a friend in the Skyan people. Ask, and we shall answer!

Let this be known: Any despot who feels they can bring their jackboots upon the soils of the free people should know that they are those who stand ready to defend them! Ask…and we…shall answer!

Gavin drew his sword and held it high, LET THIS BE KNOWN!

The Legion drew their swords and repeated, WE SHALL ANSWER!

Jessica spoke again, By the power invested in me by the King of Havensky, On the behest and behalf of the People of Havensky, I know confer upon you the title of Legionary - Defenders of the People of Havensky - Defenders of Texas - and Friend to all who cherish Freedom and Liberty!

Cameras flashed and Jessica's voice carried through the air through the networks and the Net.

[Dephire]

Ghray, Capital City of Briska

The Phoenix Emperor sat behind a large, black desk made from obsidian. Accompanying him was Menias and several servants. After much whispered chatter over the mobilization of their counterparts, he turned directly to Menias.

"Menias, open a line to Kravenite High Command, then leave the room," Tristan spoke in a hushed tone to his friend.

"Yes, sir," Menias obeyed. He inserted the coding for a direct link to Reichmarshall Deitrich, then promptly ushered everyone out of the room.

The line sounded gargled, but Tristan knew better. I know you can hear me, Reichmarshall. You need not answer, but I know you will hear me. My armadas will set sail soon. I was hoping to sit back and relax while you extended your arm, but some outsider has turned their prying eyes onto our region. I cannot allow this. We will help create a blockade to help keep outsiders from getting involved with Gothic matters. This should allow you to proceed unhindered. You probably knew this already... We are brothers in arms after all.

Tristan took a brief pause to stand up and pace around the room.

However, there was another reason I intruded upon your privacy this evening. As you know, Wilhelm was part of an integration program much similar to your country's. We took out the control towers designed to control him, but the residual effects seem to be taking hold of his mind. You, the people who have made this a way of life, must have found a way to... Eliminate these effects. Am I wrong in thinking this?

The young man seemed to chuckle as he almost thought he was just talking to himself.

I suppose it matters not. Once he has lost his mind, he is then of no further use to me. I believe he would be a better asset to you when that happens. He smiled. He served our nation along-side my many predecessors and could prove an invaluable commander... That is if you were to incorporate him. Tristan sat down in his chair. What say you, brother?


=========================================================

Hammerfest, The Templar Armada's Home

Just a year ago, the entire armada of the Templar Order was in exile, offering temporary protection to the Gothic nation of Kylarnatia in exchange for their hospitality. Now, the several thousand ship armada was anchored just offshore of the former home of the Dominator-Class Rail Cannon, which had long since been decommissioned. Grand Admiral Tynsei Domrea paced nervously aboard the Templar Flagship, Archangel.

Attention to All,

The orders have been given to sail towards Ghray. The Emperor wishes to see the Armada before we then set sail for the accursed lands of Milograd. Set sail at once!

Tynsei was awaiting the orders all day. She was given an informal notification earlier by Menias to prepare the Archangel to sail within the hour. She listened without question. Were we going to enter this bloodbath? What the fuck was the Emperor planning? The thoughts kept running through her head. The more she thought of every scenario, the faster she paced back and forth.

"Admiral, we are now on course to the Briskan capital. We should be there by week's end," a young Templar sailor chimed in, breaking the trance that had taken over the admiral's mind.

"It is the Emperor that wishes to see his ships. Week's end is not going to be soon enough," she barked, "We must be there within thirty-six hours."

"Aye, Admiral!" Another sailor happily adjusted the heading and speed. The Archangel lurched forward effortlessly.

[Emperor Pudu]

The Reich's coastal artillery targeting radar had sent the CIC into a frenzy of activity even before the message from the shore battery arrived. The modular radar aboard the Pudu Xiang Wu and her escorts began tracking the frequencies of the enemy's eyes, but on an order from Khudoi they had not yet begun ECM activities. They won't fire on us, Khudoi thought to himself. Gods I hope they won't fire on us. The sudden arrival of the Kravenite transmission pricked the hairs up on the back of the admiral's neck. No less could have been the reaction of the room's crew, Pudite soldier or no.

As he was hearing it he turned to his XO; the man's face seemed drained of blood. "Get up to the bridge and signal the squadron, they want a course change. They got it." His XO scurried away, happy, Khudoi thought, to be out of the room. The air remained tense in the CIC. The center's commander turned to Admiral Khudoi after a moment, "Sir?" he asked "Orders?". Khudoi turned to face him and realized the faces of all the men in the room were on him now. "Wire this order to the bridge: All ships make starboard turn to reverse course and prepare to take evasive action, combat speed." The message was sent and the executive officer passed it on to the eleven other ships of the squadron. None were hesitant to obey.

The Pudu Xiang Wu began her wide turn even as her engines kicked up the massive vessel's speed. Once they got on a straight bearing they could get up to more than thirty knots. Even so, Khudoi thought, she would be a damn hard target to miss. He thought back now to the blustering that he had kicked up the last time he had received a transmission like that; during the Ashazeth crisis he had insisted on undertaking freedom of navigation maneuvers. It was the official stance of the Pantokratocracy, after all, that no nation may legitimately claim more than 20 kilometers of sea. There was of course the official stance and the practical stance, however, and today was a day to be practical. Khudoi needed a cigarette. Hopefully not his last.

[Xirnium]

Edwige, 19-year-old daughter of ‘Major’ Dórottya Nalôrna, sat soaking up the light and bright and sparkling atmosphere with her intelligent blue eyes. She wore a sleeveless, shell pink and black shift dress, with a flowing trapeze shape, colourblocking at the collar and hem, and faux leather trim to add a luxe finish. Beside her, her mother had changed into the tight, almost perfectly pressed, full dress uniform of a commissioned officer in the Army of the Association of March Shires, with a tall peaked cap and cape-style greatcoat, and near-regulation smoked glasses hiding her eyes.

The women clapped politely at the appropriate moments and listened silently during the keynote address. A lot of it went over Edwige’s head. She had learnt about the Kraven Corporation, and its stunning defeat at the Battle of Ingáthern, in history class, but had never heard of Milograd and, as a young girl with the usual indifference to news and current affairs, had only vaguely heard of Gholgoth. Wasn’t it that place run by the guy who used to be a pro wrestler? Or was that where Iesus Christi was located? (The country with the psycho-bitch Nazi fundamentalist dictator.)

The Great Ballroom was decorated much like the great hall, only with banners from all the Skyan Air Fleets and Legion Units represented. The serving staff had laid out a great feast in the form of brisket, burgers, barbaque and tacos. Her mother had mentioned something about the food in this region being spectacular, but Edwige hadn’t really believed it until she walked by the tables.

Military Academy staff members were dressed in their military uniforms. The Legion officers wore white dress uniforms, while the Airship Armada officers wore dark black uniforms.

The graduates were a mix of dress. Some had changed into their dress uniforms, while others were still wearing their power armour. Given that Gavin and Tycho were part of Lady Jessica’s protection unit, they still wore their scarlet power armour and were working in shifts. Gavin had drawn the first shift while Tycho had the first dance with Lieutenant Ariana Chispa.

The first dance was a formal affair, a classic waltz that included all the higher ranking officials. Aunt Jessica danced with her Uncle Lucas, and another staff member had politely extended a hand to Edwige’s mother. After the first dance, the band moved into more contemporary fare and the actual party began.

Many of the cadets had brought dates to the ball, but a fair number were at the party by themselves. A few of them roamed around trying to find girls to dance with.

A trio of Skyan cadets, who may have been partaking in some unauthorised liquors, approached Edwige. She had been sitting alone while her mother chatted seriously with an adult somewhere on the other side of the dance floor; Edwige could see her with her peaked cap in the crook of her arm.

‘Well hey there, I’m Garth — what are you doing here all by yourself?’

Over the years, the Skyan accent had blended into the Texan one and the leader of this trio had quite the Southern Texas drawl. The boys were dressed in white uniforms, but their lapels were adorned with a single circle rather than an established rank. They also didn’t have swords; they must have been cadets.

She had actually been looking at her bluePhone. When she had been interrupted, Edwige had been bent over the glowing screen, reading and responding to her friends’ most recent ‘chirps’ on the online microblogging service Chirrup. Her faintly freckled and vacation-browned breasts went white further within the bodice of her little trapeze dress; her hair had gone light-gold colour.

‘I’m not by myself...’ she said defensively, lifting her eyes at the guys. They too had gone light and waterlike.

Edwige decided against asking why they were all by themselves. At least she had a reason; she didn’t know anyone at this party, except her mum, and her uncle and auntie, and anyway she had only arrived in the country yesterday. What was their excuse?

Instead she just insisted: ‘I’m waiting; for... someone,’ she finished lamely. Unfortunately, ‘Garth’ didn’t seem to take the hint.

‘Well, I didn’t mean no offense ma’am — what’s your name anyway?’ said Garth. Behind him, his two buddies chuckled.

‘I’m Edwige Nalôrna,’ she said. Edwige spoke English clearly (clear enough for the drawling Southerners in Havensky), though with a heavy, lilting accent. ‘Glad to know you...’

The trio began to crack up, their consumption of liquor not helping their gentlemanly manners one bit.

‘Ed-widge? What kind of name is that?!’ guffawed Garth.

She looked at him coolly. Before Edwige could retort, a strong, deadly serious voice spoke from behind her.

‘Edwige... is the name of my date... cadets...’

She turned to find the steel-blue eyes of First Lieutenant Gavin Squall looking down at the trio of cadets, who now visibly gulped at the presence of a ranking officer. Edwige had seen Gavin during the ceremony, but he had been wearing his helmet and face shield. Only now, without his helmet, did she notice his square jaw and short dark black hair. Even without the added height given by the power armour, his natural six foot three height caused him to tower over the cadets.

Edwige had to cover her mouth to hide her laughter as the cadets went from cocksure to terrified. Gavin offered his arm to her, giving her a nervous smile, and with only a slight hesitation she took it. He hadn’t actually asked Edwige to the dance, but it seemed like the most expedient way to get the rambunctious cadets away from what he thought to be a very beautiful girl.

He looked at the cadets again and put on his ‘in-charge’ face. He gave a slight sniff and looked down at the trio.

‘You three reek of tequila. I would advise you take your party elsewhere. I would do so quickly as my forgiving mood may not last the night.’

The three saluted as sharply as they could in their state and quickly marched away. Edwige could barely contain her laughter. Gavin turned to her.

‘I’m sorry about that. Please forgive my companions; they’ve been locked up in training for the past six months.’

‘Oh my Goddess, that was awesome,’ Edwige grinned. ‘Wow. Huh.’ Her eyes had begun to shine like they had at the ceremony; her finger idly wiped the sugar from the rim of her daiquiri.

‘And forgive me for...’ Gavin took a breath trying to think of the words, ‘forgiving me being forward about telling them you were my date.’

‘Um...’ Edwige said, and licked her finger. Her summer-light eyes were still ashine with intelligence and attention.

Gavin paused then realised how that may be taken out of context and quickly added: ‘Although, if nobody else is escorting you — I’d love the honour.’

‘Oh.’ Edwige’s eyes widened further. ‘Um, like, sure. Okay. I guess,’ she said, and her red thumbnail pleated and released the neck of her dress.

Fortunately, she had worn shoes for dancing, or rather shoes to be seen in for dancing; a pair of sheer lace, peep-toed ankle boots with four and three quarter inch heels. Edwige put her bluePhone in her little clutch and placed it with her mum’s things. Dórottya had left two leather portfolios with papers and a hard case on a nearby chair.

Gavin smiled and escorted her to the dance floor, taking his gloved hand into hers; her bracelets of wood and lacquer clashed. He spoke quietly to her, asking where she was from (‘Xirnium...’), about her hometown (‘The Anthèthath; you wouldn’t know it; it’s, like, way out in the countryside?’ she had said with the roll of the eyes that only a teenaged girl is capable of) and where she had travelled with her girlfriends to mark the end of the final year of senior school (‘We did Ambâlieva, Vardimëldë...’ She could remember every detail as vividly as she still felt the burn on her shoulders and the sweet tone of her muscles. ‘And then we spent a full week in Ængria! That was in-sane!’).

It turned out Gavin had already known about her mother’s visit. Not only did he know Lady Jessica, but was part of her new guard.

‘Wow. So, like, you must be like an “élite” soldier, huh?’ she said. ‘Oh my Goddess, are you superior to the legionnaires?’ Edwige breathed.

She had noticed the knight was treating her protectively. For him, she was little, delicate. She had cheeriness, inventiveness, brightness. He was heavy and serious. In his arms she felt secure.

They continued to dance, the knight and the Xirniumite girl in a pink dress, sun-tanned, with laughing eyes and long straight white-blonde hair, until they were interrupted by another knight in crimson.

‘Hey, it’s about time you got a girlfriend!’

The busybody smiled brilliantly and mischievously. His green eyes clashing with his short silver hair. Silver hair aside, he looked to be about the same age as Gavin. Upon looking a bit closer, Edwige noticed the slightest scar below the man’s right eye. His face told the history of hard knock life, but you’d never know it the way he smiled.

‘Tycho!’ Gavin shouted quickly as his face began to turn several shades red. Noticing Gavin’s embarrassment, Edwige shook her hair back from her face and squared her shoulders slightly, leaning back against his arm. The colour faded a bit as Gavin turned his head and looked at the clock.

‘Edwige, meet First Lieutenant Tycho Onyx — another one of Lady Jessica’s guards.’

‘Oh, hey. Like, do you outrank him?’ Edwige asked Gavin, all blonde bewilderment. ‘You were totally leading the ceremony before.’

‘I, well... not exactly, I mean...’

Tycho laughed. ‘She’s a smart one, Gavin,’ he winked.

‘I’m sorry to do this,’ said Gavin, ‘but I was supposed to relieve him a half hour ago. We’re on duty tonight you see.’

Tycho shook his head, placing a hand on Edwige and Gavin. ‘Don’t worry about it, Ariana had to get back to the helijet to get it prepped for the flight home.’ Still feeling mischievous, Edwige discretely shrugged Tycho’s hand away and made herself comfortable in Gavin’s arms. Tycho seemed to take it in stride; Edwige’s lips parted a little in a smile. ‘Sides, good to see you have a bit of fun Mr Serious.’

He turned back to Edwige and winked. ‘He hasn’t bored you to death with military tactics and history has he?’

‘Tycho...’

‘I’m kidding! I’m kidding. You two have fun. I’ve got to get back. Nice to meet you Edwige Nalôrna!’

And with that the crimson knight walked away again.

‘He seems nice,’ remarked Edwige.

‘Best friend a guy could ask for. You may have met his Ariana already. She’s Lady Jessica’s pilot. She’s also dating Tycho.’

‘So that’s how he knew my name. At least he’s not a stalker.’ Edwige laughed with a rippled which ran through her whole body, keeping her jewellery tinkling and her earrings mobile. ‘Oh, so if you’re, like, Aunt Jessica’s bodyguard or whatever, does that mean I’ll be seeing you around a lot?’ She tilted her head at an angle, in a sort of inviting gesture.

Gavin smiled widely. ‘I certainly hope so.’

He thought for a moment, then decided. He bent down ever so slightly to kiss Edwige.

She was startled at his daring! But he was handsome, and a knight, and she’d been drinking daiquiris, and nobody knew her here anyway, so... in a spirit of great adventure, her eyes staring into his, she kissed him back, and pushed her tongue against his.

Scrash-h-h-h-h-h-h-h-h-h!

The sound of glass shattering caused Gavin to instinctively draw his shield from his back and move it to cover Edwige. Alarms began to sound across the academy and people began to move everywhere all at once. Edwige screamed hysterically.

A most unwelcome guest had come to crash the party.

[Schultaria Prime]

SSS Atropos
Zivot Bay, Northwestern Milograd

As the noonday sun dipped lower and dusk cautiously approached, the normally turbulent seas of the bay quieted themselves - the small breakers and light winds that had whipped the freighter dying down with the noonday sun. The Atropos' crew, save for the small crew that were assigned to watch duty, would not have the good fortune of enjoying the day's calm seas. Then again, perhaps it was for the best. From miles out, the freighter's half-kilometer long hull seemed to cry out its plight. As the sun shone down to the bay's sparkling depths, the freighter seem to absorb all light in a mass of darkened, steely, stillness.

Beneath the decks, the Atropos was a cacophony of activity; workers and crewmen toiling ceaselessly underneath the reddish-orange din of battery-powered sodium lamps. Couched between aisles of shipping containers and strewn parts, Captain Dermott and the afternoon shift completed the autopsy of the ship's once mighty hearts. The crew strained with chains and winches, bereft of electrical power, to extract bent and mangled pistons the size of old-growth oak; a desperate attempt to seize what remaining power might be left in the ship's threadbare pulse. Bathed in a sea of ratty fuel oil and shaved metal, the crew were too dirty... too tired... to care about the world above.

Chief Engineer Murray Torvan slumped into the Captain's Chair, an alcove of placidity far removed from the chaos below decks. For nearly sixteen straight hours he had worked to try and squeeze what power he could out of the stricken craft, and his efforts had paid off in some small measures. The Atropos had made contact with a forward element of the Second Fleet, and a small detachment would be arriving in an hour or two to provide cover and, if necessary, a tug to safer harbors. Ever pragmatic, however, he tirelessly combed through the ship's plans to give the freighter a chance to limp home under its own power.

Well below the waterline, dozens of small thrusters encircled the ship. For a freighter as large as the Atropos they were a vital part of the navigation system - designed to push the freighter into harbors normally considered too narrow for a ship of her size. With a few adjustments, the thrusters could be cajoled into pushing the freighter back into the open sea and limping home, provided enough electrical power could be fed to them. While Captain Dermott and half of the crew struggled mightily to salvage what they could of the freighter's engines, the other engineers in charge set about to rewire the maneuvering thrusters for sustained use. Doing so required radical surgery to the ship's innards: circuit breakers and backup generators were shut down and rewired to provide the electrical motors with the energy necessary to break the Greater Gholgothic Ocean's notorious eastward currents. Exhaustive safety checklists meant shutting down the total electrical supply to the freighter's topside circuits. The navigational radar went dead and the ship's more powerful satellite radios fell ominously silent as the crew worked hard to move the ship to safer pastures, with or without the help from the Navy.

In a state of semi-consciousness, the Chief Engineer surveyed the sea for signs of the incoming Naval vessels. Training his eyes to the north, the placidity of the sea was hypnotic to the fatigued engineer. Far off in the distance, however, he could make the outline of a vessel. Pulling out a well-worn hardcopy of the Merchant Ship Guide and a set of binoculars, Torvan could readily make out the distinct outline of a Ramon-Class cruiser. Above it, however, a series of small black specks seemed to be darting around and past the vessel. Some appeared to be circling - others hovered lazily – but soon the small specks were growing and massing in the distance. Clutching the handset of the freighter's short-range emergency radio, he attempted to contact the ship:

”Unidentified vessel... Unidentified Ramon-Class vessel... This is the Schultarian State Freighter Atropos. We are dead in the water. Please respond on emergency band seven, over. Please respond on emergency band seven.”

A few seconds later, a scratchy reply:

”Atro... This i... SS Forvelts on emergency band seven. Experiencing communications diffi... with emergency radios. Possible jamming. We rec-”

As the radio cut out, numerous streams of red and yellow tracers streamed from the surrounding specks, bathing the water around the cruiser in an eerie phosphorescent glow. Plastered to his binoculars, Torvan thought he could see the cruiser raising its cannons, ready to engage the craft. Fatigue was replaced by fear and adrenaline as he made the connection that had formerly evaded his clouded judgment.

”Oh... Shit. That's one of ours! Awanyu, guide them safely.”

[Havensky]

As soon as Gavin heard the tink-tink-tink and saw the grenades, he knew things were about to get very very bad. He turned to Edwige. When he saw the smoke he knew - they were here for somebody.. whomever they were. And Edwige's was screaming. He grabbed her shoulders and bent down to look at her. His voice going from gentle to serious.

Edwige, you have to listen to me. Listen listen listen... Listen very carefully and stay calm.. Stay behind me, I will get you out. It may get hard to breath, but once we're out it'll pass. Can you do that for me?

Edwige nodded, wiping some tears from her blue eyes.

Gavin unhooked the helmet from his belt and went to put it on. He pressed a small button to activate the helmet.

Suit, Combat mode.

In a few moments, the visor lit up with information. He listened for a moment for any chatter. Plenty of chatter. Nobody issuing commands. He looked around analyzing the situation. Chaos. Not good. They needed to get moving.

He grabbed Edwige's hand, This way...

He spotted some power suits running towards the action. Mistake. Too many people behind them, not a good formation.

YOU FOUR! FORM A WALL. GET THESE CIVIES BEHIND YOU!

The four looked and nodded, and began to line up shield to shield. Moving alongside Gavin as they moved to the left of the room towards the door. They began to yell at people to get behind them. Shots began to ring out across the room

Shit!, Gavin said. He needed more time. He clicked tongue against the roof of his mouth twice to open a channel on the radio.

MAYDAY MAYDAY MAYDAY - THIS IS HEARTBREAK ONE-ONE - RAVENSNEST UNDER ATTACK. CONTROL RESPOND! IDENTITY OIC! OVER

* * * *

When the glass broke, Tycho ordered his men to surround the Ironwings and move them towards the door. He radioed Ariana Chispa.

HEARTBREAK TWO-ONE TO SPARKER - EVAC ECHO OVER

WHAT?

YOU HEARD ME - ECHO ECHO ECHO! GET IT READY! HOW COPY

Good Copy, En route!

His earpiece began to pick up a weird sound - guttural indecipherable sounds.

He realized what it was about the same time the others did. Kraven

Tycho looked up to see Dórottya Nalôrna dive for something under the chair and come back up with a Feuer Model 89 assault rifle. She began to fire a few shots at shadowy figures now emerging through the smoke. Two figures dropped to the floor. That got the attention of the figures very quickly.

Tycho shouted, Oh no you don't!

Tycho dove, pushing Dórottya out the way and raising his shield just as the figures fired back.

PING PING PING PING PING PING PING

Nalôrna smiled approvingly, Good reactions, team instincts - Now lets get the others formed up and get Jess out of here.

She looked over at a group of cadets. You three, get the armored ones headed this way. We gotta fight our way out!

CONTROL RESPOND - WHO IS IN CHARGE OVER!?

Tycho laughed as he heard Gavin's voice.

Weren't you just telling your girlfriend you outranked me?

* * *

Gavin cursed angrily. Several assailants have started shooting towards his wall of power armor. Several people had been running for cover and had been mowed down.

Too soon One-One?

HEARTBREAKER ONE-ONE to CONTROL - ONE ONE taking command!

Acknowledged One-One. Be advised, Control sending police units to your location.

Gavin pushed Edwige away as he drew his sword and thrust it towards one of the shadowy figures who had been trying to sneak behind the wall. The figure tried to fire off a few shots, but Gavin twisted his sword before he could.

RICO - TAKE THE GUN - START FIRING BACK!

He clicked his communicator back on.

NEGATIVE CONTROL - ENEMY HEAVIES OVER

ACKNOWLEDGED HEARTBREAK ONE-ONE, FORCES INBOUND OVER

Gavin turned to Edwidge, he who been knocked down. He reached down to pick her up. He could see she was clearly shaken - the color drained from her face. He said somewhat quietly, Sorry about that. Are you ok?

* * *

The good news, was that Tycho now had a corridor going with Lady Jessica and Lucas Ironwing in between two dozen legion. The bad news was that they were now pinned down and Lucas was hit badly. The smoke was getting worse. Through the large glass windows they could see a Kraven VTOL craft with lights on aiming at different people as they tried to run from campus.

Suddenly, the large glass shattered as an aircraft swooped down next to the glass and began to blaze it's guns in three short bursts.

More screams filled the room and the chaos in the room increased. But much to Tycho's surprise, he hadn't been shot. He looked around. The attackers were on the floor.

Don't just stand there Two One - Get to the damn roof - what's taking so long

Tycho squinted and looked through the smoke. It was their helijet firing at the assailants through the windows.

YOU CRAZY WOMAN!

Love you too sweets

[Xirnium]

For the first few seconds Dórottya did not react. She merely glanced about the hall and looked confused. Then canister-shaped hand grenades began to clatter and roll across the dance floor and, although still unsure of the how and the why, she could guess at the what, and had no doubt at all as to the whom.

Her (Secret Service) Bureau-issued service weapon, a long-barrelled .476 Vigny automatic pistol, was in her hand, and instantly her finger was inside the guard and on to the curve of the trigger. Unable to suppress a rising panic, Dórottya scanned the room for her daughter but she could not see Edwige. There was too much screaming, too much running, too much smoke.

‘Quickly,’ she ordered the man she had been chatting with, grabbing the lapels of his coat and shaking to get his attention in all the confusion. ‘You need to follow me. Now.’

Her pistol raised, Dórottya filed rapidly but with caution back to her seat, nudging through the crowd, relying on memory as the visibility faded. By the time she got there the lights went out, and she stopped, crouching, listening. Pulling out the hard case from under her chair, she unclasped the locks and popped open the lid, removing a Feuer Model 89 assault rifle in the bullpup design.

Holding the rifle loosely, she handed the man her pistol. ‘Have you ever fired one of these things?’

The man swallowed. ‘I’ve shot rabbits with a .22 target pistol, ma’am...’

‘Well, this is a Vigny army special. A real stopper. Remember to aim low. Hold your arm out straight like this.’ She showed him briefly. ‘And try to squeeze the trigger and not snatch at it.’

The shooting had started. Chaos. Single rounds followed by the lethal rip of machine gun fire. They seemed to be coming from a semicircle to the front. Dórottya snapped a fresh magazine on her rifle. It was impossible to tell the enemy strength.

‘Fuck this,’ Dórottya snarled.

She stood and threw up her rifle. As she did so, the Kraven stormtroopers saw her, their night-vision goggles glowing demoniacally. One bent down on one knee on the dance floor and aimed at Dórottya. Dórottya stood icily, hearing the bullets. The crosshairs centred on his chest. Dórottya squeezed the trigger.

[Havensky]

On the other side of the room, Gavin continued to fight his way through the building to the exit on the bottom floor. The wall of power armored graduates had increased, but they had lost way too many civilians. They were stepping over bodies and they moved slow as they tried to get the remaining guests in the safe corridor between the circle of shields.

Another Kraven soldier had gotten past the wall and had taken out one of his men before the others could bring him down. They had taken Kraven's rifle and started to shoot back with two rifles instead of just the one. Gavin knew it wasn't sustainable. There were too many civilians in tow - without some reinforcements they could only hold.

Ariana's buzzing the room had driven the Kraven away from Tycho's position and they were headed towards Gavin's group. Up ahead, a small group of Legion had set up a defensive position but were getting hit hard. He didn't even want to think about the losses the Skyans were taking. Through the radio, Gavin was getting reports all over the campus of small groups of Kraven clearing rooms.

Above the building, Gavin could hear a sonic boom. A helijet.

* * *

Tycho was able to move much faster with the area having been blasted by the helijet. It also helped having the weapons added to their arsenal. His front team kicked open the door that had been locked and began to move up the stairwell to the roof. A power armored Legionary peeled off at every floor to cover their exit.

Dórottya had been a huge asset. Tycho had no idea where she learned to shoot, but he wanted lessons.

Finally, they reached the roof. Dórottya spoke up so all could hear.

Everyone stay in the well till I tell you to move!

Tycho would have been annoyed at taking orders, but he didn't argue. The lady knew what she was doing. And she had kept Lady Jessica from trying to fight the battle instead of escaping.

HEARTBREAK TWO-ONE IN POSITION

JUST A SEC

Just a sec? Didn't you just tell me to hurry up?

* * *

Ariana Chipsa pulled up on the stick of her helijet and slammed down on the throttle sending the helijet into the sideways loop. She turned just past the tower forcing the Kraven VTOL tailing her to make a wider turn.

Fires had broken out below the campus as the VTOL craft had been firing randomly at people as they had tried to leave the area. One of tired to making a strafing run on her craft. She had gotten away, but the craft had taken some hits.

She quickly flipped a large switch sending alarm bells throughout the craft as it switched from jet power to helicopter power - wings moving into bladed position. The craft protested, creaked, but the action had the desired effect. The VTOL flew past. The VTOL quickly realized that he lost her and started to slow to a hover. Her gunner aimed and fired at the craft's aft port engine - the craft began to spin.

One down, too many more to go.

She flipped her commo on.

SPARKER TO COMMAND, WHERE'S MY COVER?

Two winged craft flew overhead and rolled above her, Skyan combat drones.

COMMAND, SPARKER, Love me some Glitch, but you know that's not what I meant.

I heard that.

Lo Siento Glitch. COMMAND - MAKING DROP - MAKE SURE I HAVE SOME REAL A-D-A INBOUND

Acknowledged Sparker, 2 mins out

She moved the craft to the roof of the building - maneuvering the rear of the craft close to the exit door.

TWO ONE, SPARKER - READY

The door opened and three Legionaries burst through the door. Once they determined they were clear, Lady Jessica Heart, two cadets carrying Lucas Ironwing, and Dórottya ran towards the jet.

Tycho turned to Dórottya, I'm going back for Gavin - stay safe ma'am

Negative, Edwige is still out there

Ma'am, I've got orders to get you out.

MAJOR, Dórottya noted. And somebody has to protect the non-coms.

Tycho slumped his shoulders, Dammit, he gave the thumbs up to Ariana and the helijet began to lift off.

Dórottya smiled, Take the rifle, get my daughter back. she handed Tycho the assault rifle and took her pistol back from the old man. She then started to bark orders to the remaining Legion to set up a defensive position.

Tycho put his shield on his back and began to rush down to Gavin's position.

[Xirnium]

‘No. No, I’m not okay,’ said Edwige miserably, her blonde hair rumpled and eyes swimming in tears. Edwige had grazed her elbow and lost the heel of one shoe, after Gavin had shoved her out of harm’s way with his power-armoured arm, but her attention was elsewhere. ‘There are psycho fucks shooting at me! How am I supposed to be okay!?’

Her mouth began to tremble again. She began to sob violently and the mascara came off.

‘Please, I just want to go to mum.’ She was starting to become hysterical again. ‘You have to get me to mum,’ Edwige told him desperately as the tears rolled down her cheeks. Her mum was fearless, and a Major, and an expert with firearms; it had been loads of fun flirting with the knight, but with her life at risk the only person Edwige wanted was her mum (or her dad, but he was in Xirnium). ‘Please, please!’

[Emperor Pudu]

Aboard the INS Pudu Xiang Wu
South Western Gholgoth

Khudoi was again found by his staff standing on the rail, quietly partaking in his cigarette and the view from the conning tower. "Sir, response from a Kraven Admiral Hensch aboard the Executioner." This time, Khudoi was invigorated by the arrival of news. "Excellent," he spun around and stubbed out his cigarette; the young man held a slip of paper out to him, which he snatched hungrily. He assumed the fact that artillery shells weren't falling around him meant that this was a good message. He was right. "You have a pen?" the admiral asked, to which the officer nodded, pulling one from a pocket, "Send my message back, copy this down:" he presented the back of the slip of paper, "Message received. This is Khudoi, proceeding again due west. What I would discuss merits a more tangible interaction; make me a guest aboard your ship and we will speak like gentlemen."

The message scrawled down the officer looked again to his admiral, still speaking, not yet done dictating instructions, "See that it's transmitted, and afterwards inform the bridge that we will be returning to our previous course. I am headed for the hangar, make sure my air wing commander meets me there." A quick salute, and the young man was off. Khudoi himself set off down an external stair; he wasn't in a hurry, as he reasoned he had perhaps a fifty-fifty chance of actually being invited aboard a Kravenite dreadnought underway in a warzone anyway, the trip to the hangar might be little more than a stroll in the sea air for him. He pulled up the collar of his coat against the occasional bite of cool air, air that would be blowing into their faces as soon as they turned west, and he reflected on how much could change in the time it took a man to smoke a cigarette.

The squadron turned again and quickly reformed, headed as per Khudoi's original intention, due west between the two warring continents. If the Xiang Wu or her counterparts had been more aggressively surveilling the surrounding seas they might have had an idea of the sort of situation they were sailing into; as it was, they were blind to the potential crisis brewing in Zivot Bay. Admiral Khudoi would be waiting on the landing deck with a gassed-up rotodyne transport for the response from Admiral Hensch.

[Aldarminia]

Gothkoginia Enshjalmrt, Northwest Gholgoth
Four kilometers south of Khmronnar, Zedekievo Imperiate
Gothkratheim, Zygostratium High Command in the Gholgoth Region

"Well, we all saw this coming."

Four heads nodded in agreement with the other head's statement. The five men stood around a table that had a digital plasma display of the Gholgoth region, showing them live feeds from several reconnaissance drones, ships, and agents throughout the region. Stratotsar Venkhzmr Jormshgalnsvarij had been the one to speak as he had zoomed the display in on the southwestern corner of the region. The Lieutenant Commander-in-Chief of the Greater Aldarminian Empire's Zygostratium had decided that the recent uptick in military activity throughout the region was reason enough for him to be present in Aldarminia's Gholgothic territories. Venkhzmr had been indispensable in the new Grand Emperor's initiative to re-organize the entirety of Aldarminia's military and paramilitary bodies into a single government body(an oncarchy within the greater Imperial Polyoncarchy) in the form of the Zygostratium, the amalgamation of the Empire's armed might. Venkhzmr was the one who brought together the loyalist officers and NCO's out of the traitorous earlier incarnation of the Kosmokratic Armed Forces. With those men, he had been able to rebuild the Kosmokratic Armed Forces, an entire military in of itself. The Stratotsar was also key in negotiating the various warlords and break-away Jalmrirs(Jarls, local stratocratic government heads) and Lomhyrs(Carls, local commerce government heads) to come together and reform the Kosmokratium's militias, paramilitaries, and personal security forces. Venkhzmr had become known as the Anvil on which the Sword of the Empire was wrought by Grand Emperor Dalikharl II's hammer.

The other men were of lesser rank, but of equal importance in the sphere of Aldarminian influence in the Gholgoth region. There was the Gothic Arm of the Grand Emperor, Executive Imperator Sajhak Ikczirja, the Kosmokratic executive and legislative head of the Gothkoginia Enshjalmrt. Then, there was Legionary Imperial Huscarl Zantoniv Maduckiiling, the direct field commander of all Imperial Guard forces in Gholgoth. Next, Arch Jarl-Kommissar Yvanguroi Nashzic, the commander of the small Kosmokratic Armed Forces contingent in Gothkoginia. The last of the men was Oshrac Hranz, the Director of the Superiority, Solidarity, and Intelligence Agency.

These five men represented the Gholgothic branch of Zygostratium's High Command. They rarely came together all as one due to their various duties such as rebuilding the Gothic Arm Land's military and infrastructure. Today, though, was different. In the past weeks, a meeting of the Gholgothic High Command had been discussed as more and more reports of Kraven movements throughout the globe had hit their desks in knee high stacks of gold-trimmed, black manilla folders. It did not take anyone long in the vast network of Aldarminian intelligence spheres to figure out that the Reich was about to make its first move in its next phase of conquest and consumption. In all actuality, only the lower-level personnel were worried. The rest were excited and in a state of admiration. While Kraven's methods and behavior were not necessarily approved by any decent Aldarminian, it was not taboo to be in awe at their effectiveness and success as a globally-recognized pariah. Very few nation-states could claim to have maintained such an armed and impregnable state with one of the most terrifying militaries in the world.

Kraven did finally make its move, though, and that is exactly why the Gholgothic High Command had finally come together. Now, the five were carefully picking apart the different bits of information they were being given by the REGSTRAT table. All sorts of fleet and troop movements were being shown. The Atraezan landmass was covered in hundreds upon hundreds of little black and red icons indicating Kraven and Milogradian Resistance contingencies. North of Atraeza lay the daunting Kraven fleet and few vessels that seemed to have dared to come between the Reich and its new prize. Imperator Sajhak remarked, "They're fucking determined to get that piece-of-shit continent."

Nashzic wondered, "I don't know if they're just trying to secure their southern perimeter in the region, if they're trying to make a point, if they're trying to consume everything it has to offer, or if they're just so damned addicted to war that they can't stop."

"I think it's a lil bit of all of the above, gentlemen,", responded Director Hranz, "And just as we expected, the Briskans seem to be game for defending their Fortress Continent."

Zantoniv laughed before noting, "They're kiss-asses. They'll do anything to make sure there's still a Kraven to cover their asses so no one can step on their doorstep."

Stratotsar Venkhzmr had been mostly silent throughout the meeting, but when he did speak, he garnered the total attention of all those in the room, "Maybe, but it does not mean they're not a force to be reckoned with themselves. Capitol Police and Templars together make for a tough opposing force, and they've effectively been defending-and simultaneously dominating-Southwestern Gholgoth for as long as anyone can remember. The Fortress Continent is a major factor in the prominence and might of Gholgoth. His Superior Majesty has maintained that although we cannot trust the Kraven, we are obliged to defend them and that Gothkoginia should establish positive relations with the Reich. A display of militaristic brotherhood and an opening of communications with their Reichmarshall seems suitable."

The Huscarl raised an eyebrow at Venkhzmr, "What do you have in mind exactly?"

"Nothing to drastic. Not yet. We'll wait for this little bit of water between Atraeza and the Fortress Continent to boil up first... But! I do think we should begin mobilizing just in case worse comes to worst. Huscarl Maduckiiling, your orders from hence-forth are to link up on secure comms with the Imperial Guard's Capitol Command. Tell them I need at least a single legion leaving in small, scattered, and as-concealed-as-possible waves from the Aldkhaznywrengh within the next forty eight hours. The transport and subsequent escort fleets should be loaded with extra fuel. They'll be headed directly for the southern perimeter of Frossenjord, but they'll need to break formation and take a hard cut out the east of the region. Their final destination will be the Atraeza continent. Once, you relay those commands, Huscarl, I need you to then mobilize all of our expeditionary forces. Have them on Offensive Condition Two, locked and loaded and reporting to the ships. Their destination is on a need-to-know basis, and right now, even you do not need to know. Understood, Legionnaire?"

As soon as the Stratotsar had begun rattling off orders, Zantoniv Maduckiiling was at total attention. After the rhetorical question, the Legionary Imperial Huscarl bowed and about-faced. He proceeded out of the smoky and dimly lit rim. The bright, fluorescent lights and their reflections off of the white-washed, sterile walls barely illuminated the shadows of the Black Hole for a few milliseconds before the Huscarl had moved into the light and the thick metal doors had shut. Venkhzmr knew that just outside, back in reality, Zantoniv was having a little bit of trouble adjusting to the brightly lit and obviously watched corridors of the Gothkratheim. The Stratotsar subtly nodded in approval of this subordinate's actions before moving onto the next sternly, "Nashzic!"

The highest-ranking commanding officer in the Kosmokratic Armed Forces sharpened his mildly round body into an oddly bloated pencil shape, exaggerating his at-attention stance. Venkhzmr was tempted to berate the man, but instead he just gave him his orders with a cold voice and a glare of daggers, "You are to have all of your forces within a hundred clicks of a beach to mobilize to Defensive Condition One and beef-up the shore defenses. Alert the Jarl Cores if you need any assistance, or if you see weak spots that their men could possibly fill. Set up a fully-capable and mobile war-time logistics and combat net up. There is a slight chance of you experiencing some theater-wide conflict, but I doubt you will. If you do, though... Well, I'm sure you will be able to handle it. Correct?"

The Arch Jarl-Kommissar tugged at his collar, licking his wounds. He nodded tentatively and almost seemed to whimper out a "Yes, sir."

A bow and an about-face later, there were only three men in the Black Hole. Venkhzmr was getting bored now and shrugged. A scratch of the head worked up some static electricity for a light bulb to turn on in his head. "Imperator, there's not much else you can do besides making sure there is not any panic. Tell the media it's a training exercise. I would advise you to start getting the gears spinning on your Continuity of Government protocols though. Just to be safe, of course."

Exactly, almost as if in perfect replication of motion, another bow and an about-face proceeded to push the population of the Black Hole to two. A defiantly quiet voice from behind smoky shadows dared to ask, "So, what do we tell His Superior Majesty?"

"We were following orders. Just as you are about to. He is to be made aware of everything. Hell, give him the tape you just made, but remember the next time you bring a wire to a meeting, you are landing yourself in front of a firing squad. Trust is not built by breaking other trusts. The rules have always been no recording, just observation and ordering. Break our rules again Hranz, and you will know what they mean by the 'Wrath of the Hammer.'"

Director Oshrac Hranz was not exactly surprised by the threats or by the fact that Venkhzmr knew about the wire. He had learned his lesson though. He thought boldly, I will play by the rules... Until someone else does not.

And then there was one, thought the Stratotsar as he watched the Director of the SSIA leave. He put out his spliff of tobacco, cannabis, and home-grown Aldarikush aldgrass. The thing had been burned all the way to a roach smaller than a tack. Euphoria, a reward for an accomplished task. Everyone in the Zygostratium, and even the entire Aldarminian Empire, had been in some form of darkness at one point or another in their lives. Most had adapted to escaping from reality to get the edge off. Now, though, it was time to get back to work. There were orders to be formalized, decisions to be made, resources to be allotted, battles to be fought, wars to be won, and people to be killed. Another day in another kind of Gholgothic War Machine. Venkhzmr was not scared of the next brewing darkness. He dared back out into the light and back into the darkness. All just so he could talk with it directly...

***

[LOADING...LOADING...LOADING...]

[COMMSNET ACCESSED]

[LOGGED IN]

[AWAITING TRANSMISSION AND DESTINATION]

["commslinkreq"/TO: Reichmarshall Dietrich of the Kraven Reich]

[COMMSLINK-UP REQUEST SENT]

[COMMSLINK-UP REQUEST ACCEPTED]

[PROCEED WITH TRANSMISSION]

[Reichmarshall Dietrich, I am Stratotsar Venkhzmr Jormshgalnsvarij, Lieutenant Commander-in-Chief of the Imperial Polyoncarchy of Aldarminia's Zygostratium. I have contacted you on behalf of my superior, His Superior Majesty Grand Emperor Dalikharl II. He wishes for me to relay a simple message: 'The day you march against me is the day you are my enemy, but until then, your blood is mine. It shall not be spilled without a fight. Teach the Atraezan dirt what wrath is and I will keep any daring bastards from impeding your operations.']

[TRANSMISSION SUCCESSFUL]

[AWAITING REPLY...]

[SHUTTING DOWN]

[Dephire]

Ghray, Briska

Well, I guess that is it, Reichmarshall. I stated at the beginning that I expect no answer from you, and so my expectations have been met. My armadas will be covering the southern rim of Milograd and will form a blockade to allow your prancing to go unhindered. I find it humorous that you would not just allow us to wipe out the entire island... Though, I suppose you could use the resources on the surface. Bah, talking to walls and ghosts again. For the Fortress Continent! Tristan ended the transmission and took a deep breath. He thought the Kraven hierarchy to be more of a hivemind than a people. However, no amount of reasoning could dispute the fact that the Reich's methods were effective none-the-less. He looked out the window of the large room and saw the stars reflecting off the surface of the sea. A moment of tranquility that was only interfered with by the tens of thousands of ships just offshore. The armada was nearly ready to form the basis of a new blockade, one of which would cut off any outsiders from entering the Fortress Continent's seas.

Tristan tore his gaze away and made his way towards the chair at the desk. The office chair was literally a second throne, as the emperor would do all of his behind the scenes work there. He would normally have some of his inner circle around to accept orders, but he preferred to do the work alone on this evening. Pulling up a small map on his screen, he saw the Templar armada was nearing Ghray at a rapid pace, much faster than what he had originally thought. Hm. Must be Domrea's doing. After the loss of Victoria, the only woman he ever loved, he had grown a strong admiration for the Admiral. She was very strong-willed and new how to get her armada whipped into shape. A true Queen of the Seas.

The next map he pulled up on screen was a closer look at the Milograd island. The Kraven fleets were nearing the land, but seemed to be on an unseen course. The Reichmarshall never gave any information to the Dephirian emperor, but most of Tristan's involvement was based off a sense of brotherhood, a silent understanding. If one side moves, so should the other. The Reich was needing to stretch its legs, and so it shall. It would never be understood from the prying eyes of outsiders why the Briskans would lay their lives out for the Kravenites, but it had been that way for ages. They were brothers of a similar bloodline. If one were to suffer, then both would suffer. Life in Southwestern Gholgoth was harsh and crude, which allowed both of the nations to mold into an unfathomable monstrosity. One side dark, the other light... At least that was how Tristan wanted the continent to be seen as...

"So it appears the Capitol Police are making swift progress with... Whatever they were planning. It is a real shame we could not be involved any sooner. Would have been exciting to bomb the island to oblivion for practice. Eh, Volthe?" Tristan looked up from the screen to see the Templar come out from hiding.

"We have not had a real test of our might since Hell's Gate, and even that only had the feelings of a mere skirmish, mi'lord," Menias bowed.

Tristan stood from the chair, "Menias, I told you that was unnecessary. Do not bow to me."

"My apologies, Tristan," Menias straightened up, but still had a concerned look on his face. "I must ask, are you having a bit of blood-lust? I have never seen you so out of place. It is as if you were locked away in your room during Summer and all you wanted to do was break free. Is... Is it him?"

Him, the memory still stayed with Tristan after most had left the past behind...

Galva, One Year Ago...

"Menias! The Black King's soldiers have surrendered. We shall have no issues taking the Citadel!" Tristan, dirtied from battle, hurried on his vast army as they marched through the city of Galva. His army grew in size the longer they marched as the soldiers of his enemy turned into his. The Black King's days were at an end and the true ruler over all was now recognized.

The march to the citadel was several hours, but battle once again ensued as the King's elite were unable to defect. However, as tough as the King's elite forces were, they were no mach for Tristan's army. Finally, after the long struggle, Tristan reached the doors of the Citadel. With one strong push, he opened the massive doors that let way into an enormous great hall. At the end of the great hall, he saw the man he had been wanting to kill since his imprisionment, Jonathan Vega, the Black King. He was sitting upon his throne of skulls, resting his hands upon a massive sword. Wilhelm, the King's second-in-command, stood at the King's right shoulder. Then a small figure came into view. The figure wore a black robe with a hood hiding their face, but the more peculiar feature was that the figure appeared to be bound and kneeling in such a way that no one could identify who the person was.

"So, you have finally made it to the Throne of Death, Tristan," Vega's voice boomed throughout the hall, deep in tone and ominous. "We have been waiting for this meeting for a long time."

The rage inside Tristan was nearing its peak, "You will die today, Vega! My people will be avenged!" He unsheathed the blades at his waist and charged towards the King. Menias ordered the soldiers that followed him to head up the stairs to get a better vantage of the target. One way or another, the King would die.

Vega laughed as the young man rushed towards him, "While that may be true, should you not see what I have up my sleeve?" Tristan stopped, twin blades in his hands and teeth barred.

"You have nothing that can save you from your fate, Vega!"

"Now see, that is where you are naive. Am I right, daughter?" Wilhelm had moved behind the throne to the hooded figure. He grabbed hold of the hood and looked towards Tristan with as little emotion as possible, then pulled off the hood and kicked the woman down the stairs that led up to the throne. Victoria Rin was covered in blood and was coughing up even more. Her face revealed weeks worth of torture, and no one could tell how much was below the surface.

Tristan was confused at first. He knew Victoria was very hateful towards her father, and even cut ties with her family name... Now knowing her father was the man responsible for the death of every person Tristan ever cared for; his mom, father, and all of the Templars that died by his orders... It was a sick, disgusting revelation.

"So, you beat your daughter... Tortured her... My judgment is more resolute. You will die, Vega!" Tristan recollected himself and charged once more.

Jonathan Vega was swift, as he pulled out a large revolver from under his cloak. Tristan, nor anyone for that matter, could react fast enough. The man descended the flight of stairs so fast that it appeared he flew. Tristan had only cleared half of the great hall before he realized the inevitable event. Vega pulled Victoria up by the back of her robe and put the gun to her head, "This is your punishment, Skragg. Your curse."

The shot reported loud enough for even the soldiers outside the citadel could hear. Tristan stopped dead in his tracks as the Black King tossed Victoria's limp body like a rag doll against a wall. An unpleasant cracking sound was heard as both bone and stone broke. Tristan fell to his knees as a heaviness formed in his chest. Tears filled his eyes before his vision became dark.

Vega shook his head at the display, "Pathetic." He turned and slowly ascended the few steps up to his throne.

I was not able to save her... Tristan felt as if all of his drive was taken away, as if he had instantly become nothing.

A voice came deep from within Tristan's mind. A deep, dark, ominous voice that made Tristan's spine tingle... "My turn."

Ghray, Capital of Briska

"I honestly cannot tell if it was my own ambitions or if they are his, my good friend," Tristan looked away from Menias as the looks his friend gave them were of great worry. "We just need to be prepared for anything at this point. If the Reich were to fall, we would be the sole entity in this sector. Without this balance, Southwest Gholgoth could be doomed."