A War on the Continent (IC/FanT/Signups Required)

[Kalmarnavia]

Ser Gerold was stunned. He hoped that the blessings of the Twelve would be upon him in this battle. Perhaps not.

He would not, however, fall without a fight. He gripped his stolen sword firmly in his hands, and swiftly moved his head out of the way of the punch from the Premier. It connected with his shoulder, pushing the air out of Gerold as he drove the sword upwards, straight in the direction of the Premier's heart as he reached with the punch.

Dockside Tavern, Roskilde

The door to the back room of the tavern flew open. A hush fell over the traitors as the landlord, bloodied and broken, was thrown onto the floor.

10 guards, the golden dragon of the Crown showing on their chestplates, entered. They levelled their rifles on Dennas and the crowd as Ser Alain Goldsborough entered. The blood still dripped from his fist as two of his sword brothers, Ser Jaime Heelstein and Ser Hugo Falfeather, walked from behind him. They drew their own rifles from the holsters slung across their backs.

"Well what do you know, boys? Seems old Ninehands was right, Gods rest him. We would find a veritable nest of traitors here."

He gestured to the landlord, who's foot twitched occasionally.

"This one was known to us already as a degenerate traitor to His Grace, and I'm sure we'll become well acquainted with all of you... Well, those of you who we do not already know. Fine day to you, Lord Crassius. My my, a long way from the Guild of Merchants now aren't we?"

A tall man with a white beard in the back of the room tried desperately to conceal himself.

Ser Alain turned to Dennas.

"There will be no Union arms delivered to you. We'll be waiting to intercept them. When we're done interrogating you, we'll round up the rest of merry band of traitors. In fact, a good number of them are as we speak. You have friends within the Union aye, but so does His Grace. Friends well placed to deliver your kind up to us."

Ser Allain turned to address the crowd.

"There are 100 well armed Royal guards, and 200 hundred battle starved men who march under the banner of Lord Foley outside. Come quietly. Resistance is futile. If you tell us what you know and what we need to know, those who are on the edges of this conspiracy will avoid the noose. The rest of you? Well, it'll be the noose for some. For others, well.. His Grace does not take kindly to rebels, but dear old Asterax views them less favourably. You can beg me and a King for mercy but not a dragon."

Ser Alain drew his gun and levelled it at Dennas.

"Surrender."

[Phaenix]

Ser Gerold was stunned. He hoped that the blessings of the Twelve would be upon him in this battle. Perhaps not.

He would not, however, fall without a fight. He gripped his stolen sword firmly in his hands, and swiftly moved his head out of the way of the punch from the Premier. It connected with his shoulder, pushing the air out of Gerold as he drove the sword upwards, straight in the direction of the Premier's heart as he reached with the punch.

Dockside Tavern, Roskilde

The door to the back room of the tavern flew open. A hush fell over the traitors as the landlord, bloodied and broken, was thrown onto the floor.

10 guards, the golden dragon of the Crown showing on their chestplates, entered. They levelled their rifles on Dennas and the crowd as Ser Alain Goldsborough entered. The blood still dripped from his fist as two of his sword brothers, Ser Jaime Heelstein and Ser Hugo Falfeather, walked from behind him. They drew their own rifles from the holsters slung across their backs.

"Well what do you know, boys? Seems old Ninehands was right, Gods rest him. We would find a veritable nest of traitors here."

He gestured to the landlord, who's foot twitched occasionally.

"This one was known to us already as a degenerate traitor to His Grace, and I'm sure we'll become well acquainted with all of you... Well, those of you who we do not already know. Fine day to you, Lord Crassius. My my, a long way from the Guild of Merchants now aren't we?"

A tall man with a white beard in the back of the room tried desperately to conceal himself.

Ser Alain turned to Dennas.

"There will be no Union arms delivered to you. We'll be waiting to intercept them. When we're done interrogating you, we'll round up the rest of merry band of traitors. In fact, a good number of them are as we speak. You have friends within the Union aye, but so does His Grace. Friends well placed to deliver your kind up to us."

Ser Allain turned to address the crowd.

"There are 100 well armed Royal guards, and 200 hundred battle starved men who march under the banner of Lord Foley outside. Come quietly. Resistance is futile. If you tell us what you know and what we need to know, those who are on the edges of this conspiracy will avoid the noose. The rest of you? Well, it'll be the noose for some. For others, well.. His Grace does not take kindly to rebels, but dear old Asterax views them less favourably. You can beg me and a King for mercy but not a dragon."

Ser Alain drew his gun and levelled it at Dennas.

"Surrender."

Delkopi, Union Senate House

The blade pierced Salmaan's skin and halted the Premier, but he pulled it out and laughed.
"Well, it seems you've earned your freedom! Were I a normal man, that would've killed me. When you awake, hopefully you'll find yourself in Phaerix."
With that, the guard standing behind Gerold smashed his armored gauntlet into Gerold's head, not with enough force to kill him, but enough to knock the man out and give him a nasty headache. Should this fail, a mage would simply open a portal under Gerold to the Imperial Palace.

Dockside Tavern, Roskilde

Before Dennas could say anything, two young men, no more then sixteen, rose from behind the bar, rifles raised, and yelled.
"LONG LIVE THE REVELOUTION!"
The two men, however, were not skilled riflemen, and their bullets targeted all, friend and foe alike. One revolutionary, a giant of a man with a bald head and long, black beard, grabbed a small table and threw it at the guards, before drawing an axe. Three men drew pistols, and rushed towards a flipped table for cover, firing all the way. Dennas himself drew a knife, and moved towards Ser Alain, smiling.
"We may die, but I'll be damned if we don't take a few of you with us!"
The chaotic firefight could be heard from the streets, and a few bystanders were already lying dead, victims to stray bullets.

East Carburg Isle

The column of soldiers merely motioned for the two royals to follow them to a small village nearby, desperate to get out of the torrent that was coming down. Meanwhile, the radio operator speaking with Valen responded.
"Copy that. I would recommend caution. The Third Fleet was destroyed by a smaller Union fleet around here. The battle was horrible. We lost about one-hundred fifty ships, and the Union lost just as much."

[Zhenshiwa]

Flight 18, Above the Unknown Fleet...

For some reason yet unknown to Takeo, the rider leveling their pistol at his head had suddenly stood down their weapons. Gripping the reins on his own mount, the bewildered rider decided it would likely be best if he 'played along' with the strange foreigner until an opportunity for escape presented itself. No word had come from the Imperial Armada as to the nature of what these ships represented, but at the very least they didn't seem overtly hostile. Wary that that could change at a moments notice, Takeo opted to stay particularly close to one of the riders at all times. If for some reason the ships below opened fire with Anti-Dragon weaponry, it would make him a far harder target to hit without striking one of their own. For now, as he circled, he was doing his best to take in as many details of the fleet as possible... Just in case he somehow managed to escape.

IZN Aubade, DD-109, The Imperial Armada...

"Sir, message coming in over the ship-to-ship. Possible submerged contacts operating in the area. Obsidian Dragon has detected odd transmissions of unknown language nearby." Came a dutiful call from the man in the ASW/Communications suite at the rear of the ship's bridge, it was a message Captain Buford Galloway had dreaded to hear. "Admiral Sakura wants us to commence ASW operations immediately."

"Very well, sound general quarters! Prepare for submarine action!" Galloway ordered, adjusting the hem of his uniform and taking a pair of binoculars from a cubby near the front bridge window. Part of him wished the message was just his trouble understanding native Zhenshiwanese accents, but he'd lived in the Empire far too long to make such an error. One of the few non-native citizens of the isolationist state, he'd apparently come to reside there after washing up on shore among a field of debris. Where he'd come from before was a lost memory, so he'd made the best he could out of his situation and joined the Navy to earn his citizenship. Bringing his binoculars to his eyes, he searched for any sign of undersea threat, be it biological like a leviathan or of a less worrying but equally dangerous artificial sort...

A flush-deck four-piper, Aubade was one of the hundreds of Hive-Class Destroyers ordered by the Imperial Navy over the years. One of the most produced warships in the Empire, she came equipped with eight 4-inch-fifty main guns, 12 torpedo tubes, and a vast assortment of Anti-Dragon weapons. Fast and nimble, she and her sisters made up the backbone of the Imperial 'Standard Destroyer' compliment. In addition to her main armaments, Aubade had been equipped for Anti-Leviathan action. The strange and enigmatic beasts that lurked in the waters surrounding Josai were a constant threat, and it was unknown if they'd have a similar destructive presence beyond the shores of the Home Island. As such, each ship had been outfitted to defend itself if needed...

The 'Depth Charge' wasn't an altogether new concept by any metric, but in addition to the standard weapons, they'd also been furnished with some that had a peculiarity to them. Put simply, they were smaller... Perhaps the size of an oil barrel. Easier to store, and more numerous than the standard complement. Galloway had come to learn this was because they were actually 'Practice Depth Charges', typically because they were too ineffective for use against leviathans. For use against submerged vessels, much smaller and less 'squishy', however... They were thought to be perfect. So, as the call came down throughout the ship to prepare for 'Submarine Action', it was these smaller stouter specimens that were rolled into the ready racks.

Beneath the waves, the SubTarDet apparatus let out a high pitched ping. While before they'd been on heightened alert, now it seemed evident there was indeed something to look for. The echoing sound was joined by dozens of other of pings that banged away from the other destroyers and even a few Light Cruisers, now taking on the role of ASW vessels. The minutes passed in uneasy silence as Aubade's crew finished manning their guns and depth charge racks. Donning his flak vest and helmet, Galloway stepped out onto the Port Bridge Wing to join a group of other watchmen scanning the surf in search of a periscope flare or errant tentacle.

"Con! SubTarDet! Bearing 260! I approximate depth at between 60 and 70 feet!" The voice came from the ASW suite once again, and all eyes on the port side rapidly turned to observe the location. There, barely poking above the waves, Galloway could see the distinct glint of glass above the otherwise deep blue ocean. "High pitched screws, multiple torpedoes in the water! Working on calculated targets!"

"Helm, bring us to 260 zero, ahead one third! Signal the other ships, we've found our intruder! Approximate range at 7200 yards off the port quarter!" Galloway ordered, lowering his binoculars and slipping the strap up around his neck to let them hang. The ship's bow knifed through the surf, gradually slowing to 'one third', around ten knots or so. "Stand by with depth charges, set varied range between 60 and 90 feet! Forward battery, target the periscope flare and commence firing High Explosive!" The forward gun mount wheeled around after the order was relayed via speaking tube. A few seconds past as the gun director found the range, with a thundering cry the order was given, and so the four inch gun obliged. With a deep bellowing thunder and puff of smoke, the first Zhenshiwanese navy fired its first shot in anger of the war.

IZN Obsidian Dragon, DCV-4, Imperial Armada...

Admiral Sakura watched the ongoing spectacle through his binoculars on the port wing of the Carrier's bridge. The fleet had commenced evasive maneuvers following the realization that there were live torpedoes in the water, and several Recon Dragons had been launched from IZN Nocturne to attempt to spot both the targets and the wakes left by the enemy torpedoes. The presence of hostile submarines in the area, sending and recieving radio transmissions, complicated matters considerably. The enemy very likely knew where his fleet was, and that presented a serious security problem. He'd ordered more Recon flights in directions previously thought safe, but those would take time to cover distance, and time was not a luxury Sato wanted to waste.

What made this all the more confusing was a garbled transmission in a foreign language, one that no one aboard the ship was qualified to translate. It could've been anything... A request for assistance, a recipe for steamed duck... A Declaration of War. The fact that they had received it only a few minutes before detecting a hostile submarine, which had then apparently launched torpedoes, did little to raise his hopes. With the loss of contact from Flight 18, and now this unprovoked attack, a Declaration of War seemed the most likely option... It was likely their current position had already been compromised, so with little fear of disclosing his position, Sato had issued orders to respond to the proffered 'thrown gauntlet'. Since no one aboard could be certain what language it was the message had come in, custom dictated the response be sent in Zhenshiwanese.

"Attention Unidentified Hostile Force, this is Admiral Sakura Sato! Your paltry submarine attack against the Imperial Zhenshiwanese Armada has failed! Surrender now and you will not be harmed!"

[Kalmarnavia]

Ser Gerold's entire world went dark, very suddenly.
He awoke, what felt like days later, with exceptionally blurred vision.

He could, he thought, make out a few figures looming over him. He felt a jabbing in his side, wretched forward and vomited violently.

He collapsed back onto the floor, and as his vision cleared a flash of recognition came over him. He pointed at one of the figures, a young boy.

"... YOU... I... I know you... Slave boy... Last time..."
"Yes sir, I was one of your helpers! You must have been lying here for a few days before I found you! I shall go fetch help!"

The young boy sprinted off. Gerold tried to get up but was held down by the other two figures. Two guards in purple, with phoenix emblems.

Gerold started moaning uncontrollably.

"WHY? Why here again? Not here!?"
He blacked out again.

Dockside Tavern

2 guards fell as their comrades formed line and opened fire. Ser Jaime kicked the table three rebels cowered behind aside, shooting one squarely in the face with one pistol while opening fire on another. The third fell under fire from Ser Hugo, who was quickly set upon by the axe wielder.

Ser Alain smiled as bullets pinged harmlessly off his armour as he advanced on Dennas. His hulking frame loomed over the rebels head.

"You'll need more than a knife."
Ser Alain grabbed Dennas by the throat, picked him up one handed and threw him out of the window into the street.

The Royal Guard had formed line, rifles ready. Their captain lifted a pistol into the air and fired off a bright red flare into the sky. A roar was heard, and a bright blue dragon appeared overhead.

The men of House Foley, armoured from head to toe in orange plate with slate grey capes stormed into the tavern led by Ser Jeremy Foley, the fifteen year old son of their Lord. Their war cry of "NINETOWERS! NINETOWERS AND FOLEY" could be heard as they charged bayonets first into the building and began hacking, stabbing and firing upon anything that moved.

Ser Alain climbed out of the broken window as the Royal Guard trained their guns on Dennas. The dragon, a reasonably sized one landed with a thump.

Her rider, Prince Duncan (one of Aemond's other sons) shouted over to the Knight.

"Ah I see you're rooted out the rebel scum Ser Alain?"

Ser Alain picked up Dennas.

"Look my friend, Prince Duncan has brought Hera to meet you. Say hello!"

Ser Allain threw Dennas down the cobbled street, right under the jaws of the dragon. She reared up growling, saliva dripping from her teeth.

"Beg, give up all your information traitor. Hera shall burn you if you don't."

High above the Royal Taskforce, near to Carburg Isle

Rhaena eyed the foreigner suspiciously as he circled the fleet. She and Jacobus kept their distance as ordered, but she was none too happy, she signalled her cousins to return to the carriers and carried on alone.

Aboard the flagship, Makar winced at the strained radio transmission.

"What was that!? A recipe for stewed lamb?"

Argalaic frowned. He should have known few people in Zhenshiwa would be able to understand the Common Tongue. The message had obvious gotten lost in translation.

A flash passed through his head.

"One moment."

Argalaic ripped a door off its hinges, and descended a narrow staircase further into the superstructure. He startled his uncle and Ser Dontas when he practically threw an older looking gentleman onto the bridge, followed swiftly by another.

"Your Grace this is no way to treat a Scholar!"
"Nor anyway to treat a Magus of the High Arts!"
"Silence, both of you!"

Argalaic rounded on the Scholar firstly.

"You. The tongue of Zhenshiwa. Do you speak it?"
"No Your Grace, tis one of the far off languages which escape all but the keenest lingu-"

Argalaic glared and held up his hand. He turned to the Magus and pointed at the startled radio operator.

"You. Can you cast an incantation to make him speak in that language?"

The magus strained to hear the garbled radio message, then nodded.

"Yes Your Grace."

The Magus walked over and placed a hand on the young operator. His eyes glowed white, as did the Magus as words in old Eralian were spoken. The radio operator's eyes turned black then resumed their normal appearance.

Argalaic pointed at the radio.

"Again."

The operator hit transmit and started repeating his message, this time in what sounded to Argalaic at least like tongue of his ally.

[Phaenix]

Throne Hall, Imperial Palace

Before Emperor Titus could brief Damnage, a slave boy ran up to the Emperor and whispered into his ear. Nodding, Titus handed a large scroll, before walking off. Over his shoulder, Titus spoke.
"That's the list of known Union atrocities. It should fill you in just fine."
The scroll was practically illegible due to the large amount of dates, names, and places, but three reports stood out.

Falx Island Harvesting
Date: Twelfth Hundredth year of the Anno Imperatoria to the Twelfth Hundredth and One year of the Anno Imperatoria
Perpetrators: Soulmancer Taahir al-Rahaim, known as 'the Benefactor's Hand,' and Všeobecný Viliam Koreň, known as 'the Butcher of Newcestow'
Casualties: Thirty-nine thousand souls harvested, bodies reanimated as carnes constructs.
Reported by Oculus Nigilius Marcello Aquili, attaché to Indagator Rulli Augusti Tadio.

Union forces landed at Newcestow, where Viliam's Brigáda Zabitia overran the Imperial garrison, before rounding the townsfolk into the square and performing a mass soulharvesting. Union forces then moved to the much larger city of Guilforbu, demolishing the city walls and then torturing the inhabitants for the better part of a year before harvesting. Union forces then fled back across the sea when the Tenth Legion was sent to root them out.

Rape of the Heartlands
Date: Twelfth Hundredth and Fiftieth year of the Anno Imperatoria to the Twelfth Hundredth and Sixtieth year of the Anno Imperatoria
Perpetrator: Všeobecný Stanislav Čížik, known as 'Without Soul'
Casualties: One million one-hundred sixteen thousand eight-hundred dead.
Reported by Oculus Di'Habendi Lucili Cornutus, attaché to Indagator Acilius Valerius Aemilianus.

Large Union raiding force razed the port towns bordering the Mare Novissimum, before sailing up the Asli River, slaying all in their path. Briefly walked to the Dheine River, before setting sail towards the Mare Orientis and being destroyed at sea.

Project Harbinger
Date: Twelfth Hundredth and Eightieth year of the Anno Imperatoria
Project Leads: Metallurgist Kusdraes Fierycloak and Doctor Saajid el-Wakim
Casualties: Ten-thousand Imperial citizens harvested and placed into Harbinger bodies, possibly more.
Reported by Oculus Iunium Gallionem Hosidius, attaché to Indagator Magno Pompeio Vibius.

Several hidden laboratories have been given over for this 'Project Harbinger.' From what I have been able to gather from notes and hearsay, captives are brought to the soulmancers and metallurgists to be harvested, and then placed into metal bodies to act as undying soldiers. So far, only a few souls have been controllable, while the rest went on rampages and had to be put down. I have gained entrance to a possible lab in Delkopi. Will update when more information is acquired.
Note: Oculus Iunium failed to send his weekly report, and is presumed dead.

Palace Infirmary, Imperial Palace

The sound of the direwolf pup's panting echoed down the empty hallway as Titus walked towards the infirmary. Two guards were posted outside the door, their black and purple plate armor sticking out from the white walls. When they saw the Emperor, they snapped to attention, slamming the butts of their rifles on the ground. Titus nodded to them, and entered the infirmary, where the process was repeated by the two guards inside. Looking at the man on the first cot, Emperor Titus smiled.
"Seems you've suffered a blow to the head, Ser Gerold. How do you like your second visit to the Imperial Palace?"
The direwolf pup yipped and jumped onto Gerold's cot, curling up near the knight's feet. Titus spoke once more.
"I have sent your king a telegram notifying him of your safe return. I expect you will be reunited with His Royal Highness Prince Argalic soon."

To His Grace, King Jaeharys the First of the House Wend.
From His Imperial Majesty, Emperor Titus Helvius Venatius.

His Grace will be pleased to know that Ser Gerold has been recovered, alive. Though suffering from a mild case of malnourishment and venenum in sanguinem (poison in the blood), along with a concussion, Ser Gerold will make a full recovery by the time your forces arrive in the Imperial capital. Let this be a sign of the friendship between the Kingdom of Kalmarnavia and the Empire of Phaenix!

Ut ad regnum suum victrix augebat Imperii!

Dockside Tavern, Roskilde

Dennas coughed and looked up at the dragon, strangely not pissing his pants at the beast.
"We will not submit! We will have the streets run blue with the blood of noblemen! DOWN WITH HOUSE WEND! DEATH TO THE NOBILITY! LONG LIVE THE REVELOUTION!"
With that outcry, Dennas quickly removed a small blade from his sleeve, before slicing his throat. Commoners nearby had gathered to see what the commotion was about, and to see the dragon that had landed near their homes. One man, obviously a Union instigator by his olive skin and dark black beard, shouted.
"DEATH TO KING JAEHARYS! DEATH TO HOUSE WEND!"
More people began shouting while instigators spread rumors that soldiers from House Wend had massacred an entire tavern, and soon close to two-hundred people were shouting, even if they did not agree.

[Piikala]

Onboard IPNS 894 2,000 meters under the surface:

The crew sat around the bridge, waiting calmly in silence for the enemy to attack waiting for something to happen. So after what felt like a very long minute, the captain ordered the crew back to their stations. That was when he started to hear the sounds of pings and feel the walls of the sub vibrate slightly. So decided to have some fun and ordered his sub to communication depth. Where he received a brief message in a foreign language though being educated in the naval academy on all sorts of languages, he couldn't fully understand the message but heard the name Sakura Sato and assumed by his tone that he wanted him to surrender.

After listening to this message, he decided to send a message of his own and ordered one of the crew to finish off the bottle of sake and give him a pen and a roll of toilet paper. So one of the Piikalan officers brought over a roll of toilet paper and a pen to the captain. Who then started to write a message on the roll in Hiragana and Kanji (Japanese Hiragana, Katakana, and kanji are writing systems most Piikalans can write in and read) that reads:

Hello there Mr Sakura! Isn't it a beautiful day we are having, especially for war? Cause I think so and hope you think so too. So now let us get down to business first my crew and I are not going to surrender, second we will submit to you if you surrender to us first, and finally, I hope that one day we can meet when we're not at war and are at peace. Hope we can talk soon, thanks for your time!

The captain is then handed the Sake bottle by the radio operator who then runs to a trash can and pukes in it from drinking to much. As the captain says, "Thanks!" and stuffs the roll of toilet paper into the bottle and puts a cork into it. After managing to squeeze the large roll of toilet paper into the bottle and corking it, the captain then hands it off to one of the men who sends the small white ceramic bottle out the torpedo tube where it quickly floats to the surface.

Onboard the Manumalo in the middle of the sea:

"Sir, we got a message from the War Pagoda!" said the lutteniet who stood at the door to the Manumalos planning room. "Read the message lutteniet." said Tua who stood overlooking a large paper chart of the Auraina landmass and surrounding seas, his fingers pointing at Delkopi and face scrunched up as he pondered. "IPNS 894 has spotted an enemy fleet three dragon carriers, five cruisers, and ten small surface ships. They're at point BC on map G enemy fleet now splitting up, remaining one dragon carrier and two cruisers permission to fire on dragon carrier command. Note the other enemy is moving towards Nana qui." said the luttient. "So I see we have some enemies now. Tell the flagmen that I want to send a message to the fleet and to be ready to send it in the next five minutes," said Tua as a slight grin appeared on his face.

Meanwhile near the Union coastline:

The two large Piikalan flying boats started to rise in altitude once they saw the coastline. As their crews donned air masks to help them breathe in the high altitudes, they laid out a map and picked up their orders that read, the Union capital as their target for this mission. While each of the flying boats twenty gunners and twenty loaders all got ready in their place on the lookout for aircraft and dragons. The gunner's fingers all sat comfortably on the triggers of the 3In guns prepared to fire at anything that moved.

[Kalmarnavia]

Palace Infirmary

Ser Gerold smiled weakly and nodded.

"Your Majesty, I had not thought to find myself here again. But now I am... I must warn you. The Union... They are monsters. Men who can heal from even the most deadly blow... Mechanical dragon creatures... Strange scientists... And one they call the Benefactor."

Gerold eased himself into a seated position, wincing. He ruffled the fur of the wolf pup.

"You know better than most how brutal your enemies are. But I fear this war will be like none this continent as seen. We must be ready for what lies ahead."

Roskile Waterfront

All hell was breaking loose. Ser Alain's men waded into the crowd, dragging out any and all agitators they could get their hands upon. The mustachioed loudmouth was dragged, thrown down, and summarily shot by one of Lord Foley's men.

Far from placate the mob, this seemed to incense them further. Ser Alain punched and knocked aside all who rushed him. The dragon Hera beat her wings and roared in indignation as Prince Duncan wrestled to keep a hold of her reins.

A few hardy members of the mob tried climbing her wings to assail Duncan. Hera reared, knocking several of them flying as Duncan pulled his sword from its seathe. Ser Alain took aim with his pistol, killing several more.

Eventually, Duncan pulled Hera's reins back. The dragon reared, roared and poured flame into the sky. This was enough to silence the crowd.

"Enough! Dear people, you witnessed today efforts by His Grace's forces to keep order and keep you safe! The villains here were traitors, plotting with the enemy to destroy our system, our precious way of life. Those who lie dead were scum, traitors to the Crown and people. We have put an end to the vile conspiracy today. Their support comes from those Rhodari, those savages, who claim that the order, progress and blessed holy order brought by our form of government is backwards. They are backwards. We shall prove as such!"


From high in the Kungshallen, the King looked out over his capital. He was being kept well informed of the progress of the exercises at the Waterfront. He smiled. No matter what the Union did, they were too far away, their agents too few, and too disparate. Lord Heelstein had already executed 12 conspirators the day before. Lord Varyn's ice bears would not need to be fed for a month, for the 6 strong Union cell in Nunaatland had been torn out root and stem.

Success on the foreign battlefield from Prince Argalaic, a big and early victory, would stamp out any hopes Union agents yet to be caught had of building some kind of revolution.

[SF n F]

The scripts stayed lazily in the turned demon's hand as the Emperor walked away. Demonic hearing told the erstwhile military commander that his new benefactor interacted with two men, then two more, then one more still, but could not discern the precise words exchanged. No matter.

It was flooring. Damnage had never been given authority over any of the Angels, much less a series of operations like this. They were placing significant trust in him.

He began working immediately to show that it was not misplaced

It was quite a balancing act that had been given to him. Not only was the nation of Phaenix trusting him to neutralize practices so vile that they were considered disgusting even in the abyss, but the Etherial Realm was trusting him to do it in a manner consistent with some of the most taxing ethics in existence.

And that started with using the skills from his evil days to pick up on something that Emperor Titus was barely willing to let him know about.

"Buzby," he said into his communicator bracelet, "I need Angelica. I need Abacus, too, but she's already here. And I'm going to need Aurumula for some extended duty."

It only took a matter of seconds for the efficient Brother Buzby to portal Angelica in. She was the youngest of the group, not yet a full Angel, but a powerful crusader and protector. She also had magical abilities that left Damnage in the dust--pun intended.

"Alright," he said at length, "now that you've had a chance to read those reports, the following information is need-to-know. Don't let anyone else get their hands on those reports and don't let this information fall into any other hands.

Damnage wondered how much of the information in the scroll they would be able to retain. As a demon, he had always had a certain precision to his mind. He could remember vast quantities of tiny details. This came at the cost, he had noticed over the years, of a lack of oritinality. In some ways, the Angels could think circles around him.

Today, however, with both kinds of minds on the job, things worked to everyone's advantage.

"From reading those things, it should not be hard to surmise that the Phaenecins don't have a secure coastline. The Union is attacking them pretty much at will and getting away with it.

"Our first job as Etherial Consultants is to teach these people how to defend themselves--preferably harming as few of even their enemies as possible. Do you think we're up to it?"

Abacus looked at Damnage and smiled a smile that Damnage had never seen before.

"You've come a long way. Yes, I like this."

"Then let's get started," Damnage replied.

"Buzby," Angelica said into her comm bracelet, "four to the Heartlands."

And they were off in a moment, leaving Envox to explain their decision and that she was to remain as an intelligence advisor.

[Crimetopolis]

To His Imperial Majesty
Emperor Titus
Empire of Phaenix


Your highness,

We of the Federal Empire of OklaTexas remember how you sent doctor and nurses to help our wounded during the tragic 1896 tornado season in two million died and ten million were wounded. We will send help. Initially, it will be Landsturm. Landsturm trainers, Amazon classical hoplite horse cavalry. The regular army is being mobilized for an expeditionary force equipped with machineguns, artillery, and air support.

The initial force will consist of the following:
1,000 Landsturm 50% of them have Mauser-Mannlicher 1897 short bolt action rifles. 50% of them his Sig Bermann 1920 submachineguns, They all have a Mauser c96 pistol and a short double edged broad sword. Duties: to free up your regular army to fight while they guard the rear areas.

500 Classical Amazon Hoplite horse cavalry.
Armor, and metal large circular shield
1 c96 Mauser pistol,
1 XIPHO[ZEEFOESS]broad sword with 26 inch double edged blade.
Dues: Patrol the rural areas , and raid your enemies, and reconnaissance

500 Landsturm trainers :
To train volunteers aged 12 -61 to help patrol rear areas. This will free up more of regular army for front line work. But this most likely not see combat,

Support troops[remaining 3.000].
1 field hospital with surgeon, two doctors, and nurses.
1 veterinary field hospital with surgeon, two doctors and nurses.

The rest are sailors, and other support personnel.
90 day rations, medical and hygiene supplies, horse supplies, and ammunition.
1 transport 1 supply ship
Leader: fuhrer -Kaiser Adolf von Bergmann,

We eagerly await your reply,

Sincerely

Dr. Ron Paul
Foreign Ministry
Imperial palace
Oklahoma City
Federal Empire of OklaTexas

[Shwe Tu Colony]

The Floating City-State of Psytronius
Jeremy Sentinel examined the screens in front of him, the scenes of that minor hinterland marred by static as his head bobbed to the bygone songs of his former band. A few other panels at his sides were reading the atmosphere, the ground, the immediate environment, all things that might aid the Psytrines in determining the safety and viability of their designated areas. As he examined these ones, he thrust his tablet in front of him, and a small projection appeared in the air, which he slid with his finger to choose a new region, one where rolling hills led up to a little plateau bounded by minor cliffs. A few streams and ponds were collected throughout the area — not that this force would be needing any of the resources from the great empire.
The edges of Jeremy's mouth curved as he pulled his tablet towards himself. Turning left, he nodded to the pilot-like Hermes-Hina, who gave his own salute back. "Well, let's get this op started, Jeremy.."

"Of course," he said, leaning towards the microphone and pushing a button at its side. A beat; the twirling synthesizer faded, giving way to a repetitive beat synced to the familiar, repeating lyrics of the singer he had once known.
A glance down at his tablet, and he saw the accumulation that Psytronius had ended up with atop their Expeditionary Platform. Of the Parfuhmerians, Jeremy could see MV Crossbar despite the Assassin's black clothing and hair, the green cloak and cross of Richelieu; the woody shawl and furry clothing of Cozscatl; and the wild-eyed, dog-like expression of Gorzvora juggling a vial of something. Beside them, only Nor Su-Xiāo with the teal lights of his Su-Bunchuni stood out in the magical forest that had been growing at the feet of the Penglaireans, though the melody of a pipa was still just audible in that cloak of nature.

Leading them all were the Psytrines. Though perhaps not nearly as qualified for the initial groundwork, the scouting, and the diplomacy, they were at the front just in case some disaster hit them the moment the portal opened, though the Golems that Elijah had offered were still within his pockets alongside his servants.
Everyone was ready. Jeremy spoke. "Attention all campers," he said. "Nh! Apologies... all operatives. We will be opening the portal shortly. As hosts of this mission, please allow us Psytrines to do our introductory work. If you need to review the parameters, our doves will be available. Thank you for your cooperation and presence." He detected movement in the trees; no doubt the Penglaireans were celebrating.

Then, the portal flickered and swirled to life. Keiunkan, in his usual light green bellboy outfit, strode towards it, stopped himself a step before, and turned to his sister. Raising his hand at an angle, he then bowed in front of her and continued his journey to the great beyond, accompanied by a few doves carrying olive branches in their beaks and letters in their claws.

Hinterlands
The Psytrines had chosen an isolated spot for their portal, with the nearest towns or notable residences being journeys of a few hours, though that distance would be traversed in minutes by the doves that soared out of the rippling pink of the portal. They were Jhora's personal pets, created to absorb, assimilate, and communicate fluently in any language after a few days or weeks of exposure, and they carrying a message that the Psytrines were hauling in a stone platform and that the natives ought to not panic at the sight of its flight. A picture was attached in the letter, too, for those who were skeptical, and for those who couldn't find someone to read its contents, the dove would be able to speak well enough. For those prone to reacting poorly to it, the birds had a passive aura of calm around them, one that indicated no ill will, and defensively, they were swift enough to out speed and out react most.

Back at the portal, Keiunkan stepped out, smiling with his hand over his heart as he examined the plateau, thankful for the lack of anything on it. With a quick survey of the area, he found that there was a sparse water supply and a lack of notable materials: any fort would only have a defensible position and nothing more, and the stream could support a few homesteads assuming someone was inclined to work on the rocky, poor soil. He could see a distant road, but otherwise, the hinterlands were empty.
Perfect.

He turned to the portal, using his other hand to cup around his mouth. "Eglantyne, sister, I think this spot is quite hospitable," he shouted.
"Really?" she asked, brushing her hair aside with her hand. "I don't see much here, or do you mean—"
"Ah, you are correct, sister." He gestured to the vast nothing. "Resources? Yes, indeed, it is most unusable, but we will be linked with our home universe, after all, and I do not think that our opponents would be so inhospitable as to disconnect us entirely. Really, it'd be a perfect way for them to invade."

"Huh." She smiled as she stepped out of the portal all the way, her hands parting her hair again. "Invade us here? They'll just fall out of the sky, wouldn't they?"
The hand over his heart went to his back, and his other pointed skyward. "They're still people, are they not? I would like to treat them well at first, assuming they would like to become guests in Psytronius. Let us not let them fall immediately. Let them see, and then we might kick them out of our beloved city— let us not be so hasty decreeing their treatment."
"Keiunkan, your hospitality stuff is gonna get us killed one of these days, you know that?" Eglantyne said.

"Hasn't it already?" He turned around. "Now then, with this location secure, might we ask Hermes-Hina to send over—"
Crack. The ground rumbled, though it was by no means a tremor. Behind him, he could sense the interior walls of the platform poking above the surface, alongside columns of dirt. So it seemed, Hermes-Hina, in trying to be innocuous, decided to displace the ground instead of summon it even slightly up.
"Ah, here we are." Keiunkan closed his free hand and thrust it skyward, and a spray of rocks fell over the siblings as their base of operations, about the size of a house, rose behind them, still covered in soil but only floating so that one would have to crawl underneath it to move through it. "Oh dear," he said, examining the crater underneath. "We mustn't leave such a mess." He thrust both of his hands towards it, then pulled them towards himself.

The whole platform moved away from him, then slanted downward, and the soil drifted off of it like snow from a roof, filling the hole back up with some further aid from Keiunkan's motions and magic. Once he completed it, he exhaled and stretched. "Been quite some time since I had to make a hospitable condition in an inhospitable place, dear sister," he said. "Why don't you call the others? I'll be moving this right over the side. I think that should be quite nice — would help anyone approach it while still keeping us quite defended." With that, a trail of green energy linked his hand to the platform and he towed it away to the cliff like a child with their balloons.

"With that, a trail of green energy linked his hand to the platform and he towed it away to the cliff like a child with their balloons."

Meanwhile, Eglantyne turned to the portal that the two of them had come from, and Elijah Phee Loew walked through it, the tufts of grass suppressing the clack of his umbrella-cane and boots. Just behind him was Caleb, whose back ribbons, having torn and extended themselves, clung to the Dollmaster like ivy branches fractalizing across a stone wall. Occasionally, the ribbons would float off of him, but otherwise, they remained as a cage.
"He gonna get off of you anytime soon?" Eglantyne asked.
"Well, I think he's hoping to scare someone soon," the other said. "Though, truth be told, the next person coming in is Kaspar, so I'm not sure what he could be expecting."
The ribbons slid off of him, and Caleb hopped back up next to him. "Mr. 'lijah sir, I'm just worried, is all. I don't wanna scare any of the common folk right now."

"Well that's a surprise coming from him." Eglantyne reached down and picked him up, setting his head on her shoulder. As they touched, his arms decomposed into ribbons to wrap around her back, and the poles on his right leg came off of him to float around the two of them. "Hoo. Still as clingy as ever." She looked towards Elijah, who looked down at his fingers, his usual smirk now a smile at a bygone memory.
She breathed in.
"Schoolbag in hand, he leaves home in the early morning..." Near her, she could hear the familiar clatter of Elijah reaching into his pocket and throwing out a little Doll, no doubt My Saccharine Prince, and sitting down in the grass, one hand holding his head as he stared off into the distance. The portal swirled next to him, and the familiar undead aura that accompanied Kaspar flowed forth from it. A stifled grunt of a thought came out of him as he exited, but he paid Eglantyne no further heed as he marched towards the platform.

Elsewhere, Keiunkan had just set the platform back down, and came back to his sister singing that lullaby, but he paid her no further mind and moved the earth around the portal, pulling it closer to the platform, away from her and Caleb, whose imaginative mind and instability were both quelling in the presence of that song, one of a child whose memory, whose soul, were both long gone.
Even amidst the miracles of Psytronius, there were some who could not be saved, and it weighed heavier on some.
It wouldn't be much longer, he could tell, and he focused on greeting the rest of the operatives. Kaspar, for one, was already setting up his medical area, and Gorzvora was helping alongside MV Crossbar: cabinets were going up, counters were being set up, crates of medical supplies were being unpackaged and arrayed. Indeed, their little arm of the platform was starting to look more like a proper store than a camp.

He turned back to the portal and saw the rest of the Parfuhmerian Demons heading through, and he tilted his head at the sight of a green Devil-class medic and blue Pit-class Assassin, for their class types seemed counterintuitive for their roles — the Devil was goat-horned and ungulate-toed, while his gigantic limbs and glowing mouth were more suited for diving into a battle and rushing unfortunate troops down if he had the usual morningstar instead of the shimmering agarwood branch in his hands. Next to him, the Pit-class was dressed in the typical dark red of the Assassins, though his featherless wings were draped in crystal-interwoven banners, which shimmered with a diverse array of spells. Mist poured out of his mouth.
Keiunkan strode up to the Assassin of the two. "Welcome to the Phaenix Empire," he said. "Aren't you one of the police sergeants?"
"That a problem?" Next to him, the Devil-class shifted, facing Keiunkan.
"No, no, certainly not. I merely found it curious that Sekka would allow you to leave."

"Vacation hours." The Pit-class shrugged. "Now then, if you don't got anything more..."
"Oh, do proceed." Keiunkan bowed and pointed his arms towards the platform, following them to ensure that everything was going smoothly with the other Parfuhmerians. A few minutes later, he heard the sounds of a forest springing and popping to life, and he turned to see saplings and mushrooms alike approaching his sister. "Ooh, careful there, Penglaireans." He thrust his hand out and threw it behind him, and the ground moved so that Eglantyne was pushed towards him alongside Caleb, who clambered off of her once they stopped moving.
"Now then, I don't suppose you might tell me why you're here, Caleb?"
"I got bored. Nothing much going on in Psytronius, so I figured I might as well tag along. It's the least I can do after accidentally scaring everyone."

"Why, yes. It is most inhospitable to scare others, but how—"
"Well, if anyone needs some mending..."
Eglantyne brushed her hair aside with her hands as she strode past him. "I don't think a refugee or the like would need something like that, Caleb."
"What if someone needs to fix a teddy-bear, or their great-grandfather's tunic?" He surveyed the area, though he didn't see many others. "Or maybe their shoes are damaged, or may—"
"I see what you mean, I see," she said, patting him on his cap and giggling. "Oh, Keiunkan, why did you—"

"The Penglaireans are growing a forest on our plateau, and—"
"And there isn't enough water, that's for sure." The Psytrine siblings turned to face the half-smiling, half-frowning Baerwan Chun-Kodama, whose camouflage-patterned robes were held tight to his body with a woody plant that grew all over him, one that was connected to a bejeweled branch of a bow. His hair, interwoven with more of the plant growing around him, was bound in a short ponytail. "You Psytrines really just had to choose a site without any large streams, huh?"
"Apologies, dearest Chun-Kodama, but we wanted a site with minimal impact, and as we know, zones lacking in water generally correlates to a decrease of the hospitality score. Of course, you have certain areas that try to do otherwise, but that's—"

Baerwan waved his hand at him. "I'm not here for a hotel management lesson — take that up with the Dai-Baishis or something. Wouldn't surprise me if one or two of them came here to try and steal some booze."
"They best not. Our abilities to service the people here hinges heavily on our reputation, and to have them—"
"Keiunkan, I'm not stupid, you don't need to explain everything. Now then." He turned to Eglantyne. "Tell the Parfuhmerians we'll need some more water. Our forests and whatnot can't provide anything if they're gonna die, and don't even get me started on the soil." Rolling his neck, Baerwan turned towards Keiunkan.
"I'm sure the Chateaux and La Friglas would be happy to provide some more hardy trees for us," he said.

"Hold off on that. We've got a core forest down, but it wouldn't do to introduce an invasive species, now. Nor and I will be inspecting the forests nearby before we do anything like that, gonna see if there's anything native that we can use."
"Don't you usually have countermeasures to prevent guests of honor from becoming freeloaders?" Keiunkan asked.
"Course, but I'd prefer to be careful. We're here to win this war and establish a lasting, altruistic presence, right? Won't have that happen if their forests get choked by some bramble or plant of ours... speaking of which, maybe we oughtta call over Apollo Carson, see if there's anything interesting here. I'm sure a guy like him would love to check this place out."

"Perhaps, perhaps." Keiunkan rolled his wrist in front of him. "But for now, I think it best we limit our approach. I would not wish to overwhelm this world with too much of our magic, and I do believe that his appearance may well be much too threatening."
"Funny you should say that, seeing as you have Caleb," Baerwan said.
"Ah, but he's not nearly as fond of wandering through—"
The ground in front of them burst upward as Nor Su-Xiāo, dressed in the mushroom-decorated purple clothes of his clan, came out from a geyser of dirt, his drill-like ponytail whipping up in the air. Glaring at the two Psytrines, he grabbed a sack of purple fabric from his tunnel and tossed it at their feet. "Tiānkra, can't you lot tell your little devil to keep away from the work grounds?" he said before hopping back into his hole and covering it with a giant mushroom cap.

With a flip of her hair, Eglantyne picked up the sack. "Well, he's probably right. Come on, Keiunkan, let's go help around. And you too, Caleb."
"Of course, dear sister," her brother said. "Oh, yes, and goodie-bye for now, dearest Chun-Kodama. If there are any other troubles, do not hesitate to contact us right away — all operatives should have a crystal for that purpose." Baerwan nodded and turned, then pulled the string of his bow-branch back. Once he let go, a viney arc fired forth and attached to a flourishing gingko tree in the center of a grove of saplings, bushes, and mushrooms which were growing in a lush-green mist. As he pulled his hand backwards, his body was hauled towards the tree, and more of that mist dispersed from him as he flew.

"Oh, perhaps we ought to send a message to our host," Keiunkan said as he and his sister walked back to the central shrine. Nodding, she whistled, and one of Caleb's puce-red ribbon snatched one of the olive-branch doves from earlier, reeling it in towards them. His right arm came out of the bag, and as pieces of cotton sprouted off of it, he grabbed and condensed them together into a rectangular piece, transmuting the fabric into proper paper. With a quick swipe of his hand, he wrote a message onto the page and threw back the ribbon.
"Oi, Caleb, no throwing the doves." Eglantyne smacked the sack of fabric, and the ribbon unraveled from the dove, which began its journey to the emperor yet again.

TO: Emperor Titus
FROM: Eglantyne Baestia, leader of Psytrine/Parfuhmerian/Penglairean humanitarian operations

We are delighted to announce that our base of operations is being set up. While we will still need some time for some of our operatives to complete certain sustainability protocols — namely the creation of a forest — we are otherwise ready to handle any refugees coming in, and if necessary, some of us can be called away to aid other zones. If absolutely necessary, we are also capable of moving our core base, that being the Psytrine Expeditionary Platform, if there is an overwhelming influx.
We look forward to further cooperation.

[Alegeharia]

Eastern Carburg Isle

---

Valen:
The bird chirped in agreeance and clicked the radio back on to respond. “I understand, I shall keep an eye out as we get closer, we should be no more than 10 minutes out.” He turned to his first mate and gave some instructions before returning to the radio. “Where will we be docking when we arrive? I have supplies ready and waiting for ye.” Valen panned his view to the side and looked at the far away ships, he could not make out much of anything, but seemed the seas here were busy. “We better keep a faster speed mate, lookin’ to get right dodgy out here...”

---

Robert:
Robert looked through his binoculars, there seemed to be some activity from the north. He started barking orders to the guards on the ground and readied the for they had made, even if it were just wood and rocks, he knew they could hold out for some time. He readied the issued sniper rifle attaching the bipod to the edge of the watchtower and starting sighting and aligning to the possible targets, he couldn’t clearly make out who they were but knew there was at least 20 coming in this direction.

---

Thorik:
Thorik was in the middle of sipping on some Alegeharian Mead before having to stop yet again from an interruption. He told the soldier to get on the radio and let the relay team know what was going on. He then joined the soldiers on the wall, giving more instructions to supplement on what Robert was saying, he looked over to the growing army and issued a few more orders. Perhaps they should have kept that boat after all.

---

Shatharhur, Carburg Isle

---

Malik:

Malik followed the soldiers to where they needed to go, he churred in relief as they got out of the rain, he looked around at the building they were in. “Seems quaint, under cover place?” He looked around at the different portraits before hopping onto a couch laying length wise kicking his legs up relaxing. It was very out of character of a royal to be so casual, and Malik received a swift smack on the ear from Aither for showing such “laxness”. He yipped softly and scooted back into a sitting position. He was tired but the point was made, he should stay professional.

Aither:

Aither sighed after smacking Malik, ah wells such things could not be avoided. He looked around for the one in charge walking over to him. “Are you the one in charge? You seem to be fancier then the others.” Aither said making note of the Christmas tree growing from his chest. “My mistake…” Aither turned form the ribbon hunter and went over to the soldier with the single ribbon on his chest. “You are the one in charge, right? Usually the one with less flair tends to be in charge.

[Zhenshiwa]

IZN Aubade, DD-109, The Imperial Armada

Towering plumes of water cascaded into the roiling sea in Aubade's wake, signalling yet another set of detonating depth charges. Captain Galloway observed the surface of the ocean through his binoculars, eagerly searching for any sign that his quarry had been destroyed. The sub hunt had been ongoing for the past ten minutes, conducted by a small five ship squadron of destroyers and a single Light Cruiser. The Imperial Armada was still in the process of passing them by, due in large part to its considerable size and numbers.

"Sir, debris spotted, starboard and aft!" One of the watch officers announced, pointing towards a portion of sea that was gradually being dotted with what looked to be mattresses, clothing, and even a wrecked life raft. After a few more moments of waiting, an all to evident black smudge could also be seen... Unmistakably an oil slick. "I believe we've destroyed the target, sir."

"SubTarDet, status report!" Galloway shouted into the bridge, lowering his binoculars and glancing at the watch that ticked dutifully upon his wrist.

"I can make out metal under strain, sounds like... Crumpling bulkheads! We've done it, sir!" Came a pleased response, earning a small smile from the Captain whilst he made his way back onto the bridge.

"Secure from General Quarters, signal the others to break off their pursuit and inform Admiral Sakura of our success..."

IZN Obsidian Dragon, DCV-4, The Imperial Armada

Admiral Sakura Sato quietly examined the report from Aubade with his trademarked stoicism, reading over the words one final time before gently folding the paper and offering it back to the communication's runner that had brought the missive. The runner gave a bow and silently stepped off the bridge wing, leaving the Admiral to his thoughts. He watched in the distance as Aubade and the other destroyers rejoined the Armada, undoubtedly their crews would be celebrating the Imperial Navy's first victory against the enemy. It was unclear just who the submarine had belonged to, but Sato doubted they'd be of much concern any longer.

Clasping his hands behind his back, Sato turned his eyes skyward, to the circling forms of several Escort Dragons currently engaged in an ASW patrol. The threat for now had been eliminated, but that wasn't to say it was completely gone, another sub could be watching the armada in much the same way the first had... From the air, even at periscope depth, they'd be considerably easier to spot. The ASW patrol of course left him with less dragons to deploy in the strike against the unknown fleet previously encountered by Flight 18.

"Admiral." The runner's voice drew Sato from his thoughts, it seemed another message had come through. "The unknown fleet has signaled us once again, in Zhenshiwanese." Sato turned and faced the message runner, who readily presented another missive. He accepted the message, unfolding it and reading the words silently. "How should we respond, sir?"

"Signal the Hononoyama, the Empress must be informed."

----

Shortly after the message was sent by the Kalmarvian Navy, the dragon riders accompanying the Zhenshiwanese pilot would see a brief flare of red light appear before their quarry. The man would then withdraw a small stone tablet from his saddle, upon which set glowing Zhenshiwanese runes. Slipping the tablet back into the saddle, the Zhenshiwanese dragon pilot suddenly nosed over and dove towards one of the Kalmarvian fleet carriers. A message shortly there after would come over the radio, a woman's voice, speaking elegant Zhenshiwanese. Only those that had heard Shikinami speak would know it to be her, a strong mezzo-soprano that flowed gracefully like the tides themselves.

"Brave sailors of the Kalmarvian Navy, the Imperial Armada acknowledges your last transmission. We will remain well clear for the time being, though it is our sincere hope to soon meet your force and join together. We have directed our scout to land aboard one of your ships, so that he may serve as interim liaison between our two forces. Should this prove unacceptable to you, we ask only you allow him and his mount to rest and recover before embarking on the return journey. With our combined strength, there is no fleet on this planet that can hope to best us on the seas. The Empire proposes a War Summit, to discuss the creation of a comprehensive large scale strategy, and how best to make use of our resources. May the star makers guide your course.

[Kalmarnavia]

Rhaena watched in horror as the foreign rider dove towards one of the dragon platforms. Not out of fear of attack, but because he had dove towards the carrier housing Victarion. The bronze behemoth wouldn't take kindly to his sudden appearance. She pulled her reins, and Jacobus dove afterwards. Zanthar followed suit, Radnor grasping the reins for dear life.

"Try and direct him to our carrier, Rhae! Victarion will roast him alive, and then come for us!"

Rhaena yanked her reins, and Jacobus cut in front of the foreigner. The carrier and the gargantuan, ancient beast were both quickly rising to meet them. Radnor pulled alongside, Zanthar snapping none too nicely at the foreign dragon in an effort to force a course change. Radnor alternated between pointing frantically down towards Victarion, who now had noticed the oncoming dragons and was roaring incredibly angrily, while shaking his head and pointing frantically to the empty carrier and nodding.

Aboard the flagship

The radio operator had barely finished translation of the Empress's message back into the Common Tongue before Dontas spied the three dragons barrelling towards the dragon platforms.

"Twelve save them, I think Victarion might attack!"

Argalaic grabbed the binoculars from him.

"Ser Jason! Signal the platforms, I need them to distract Victarion and signal to the foreigner as effectively as they can! I doubt the Empress would be happy if her man was torn apart."

Aboard the dragon platforms

A team of crewmen hurried pushed hulking chunks of oxen and boar out into Victarion's lair, whistling and shouting and waving frantically. It seemed to work, as the ancient creature rounded on them... And poured forth pitch black fire. The crew dove for cover behind the heatproof barriers with the carcases taking the brunt. The charred, blackened meat seemed to fully capture Victarion's attention, for he stalked over to it, the deck plates quaking each time one of his four paws clanged down.

Meanwhile, on the empty carrier of Rhaena, Radnor and Xenia the crew frantically waved enormous green landing flags to try and draw the Zhenshiwanese to them.

[Phaenix]

Eastern Carburg Isle

Unused to seeing a noble act so casual in front of them, the officer whose uniform was practically covered in medals spoke indignantly.
"Hey! I outrank Sergeant Eadnod!"
The offended sergeant turned to the officer and poked his chest.
"Oh yeah? Says who, corporalis? Your father?"
The corporalis puffed out his chest, causing his medals to jingle.
"Yes, he does! Need I remind you who he is? Martii Dominus Arruns Hosidius Sympronian of Atanium! And I, Claudio Tettidius Sympronian, being of noble birth, therefore outrank you!"
Just before the argument turned into a brawl, a man in a black and purple uniform with the Phaenixian phoenix plastered on his arms walked in, the two medals on his chest shining gold.
"You both are outranked by me."
Startled, all in the room snapped to attention, with Sergeant Eadnod shouting.
"Yes, Legatus Opiter Camillius Salinatori!"
Turning from the soldiers, Legatus Salinatori spoke to Malik and Aither.
"Well, Your Highness, Your Majesty, welcome to Shatharhur. Please, make yourself comfortable."

Phaerixian Hinterlands, Phaenix

A small child, no more than four, slowly walked towards the Psytronians, her clothing covered in blood, though the child was unharmed. When she reached the halfway point, shouts from behind her could be heard in a strange language.
"Hal ra'ayt 'ayn dhahab dhlk altifl ya Sajd?"
A man reached the top of a hill, clearly visible to all, and pointed a rifle at the child.
"Haha! 'ant madin li bishrab ya Abad! 'ana ealaa washk alhusul ealaa thlathyn maratan qtl!"
His friend also reached the top of the hill and covered his eyes against the sun before grumbling.

Palace Infirmary, Imperial Palace

Emperor Titus frowned, and motioned for a magus to look at Gerold. Upon finishing his examination, the magus whispered into Titus' ear. After that, the magus left, and Titus spoke once more.
"Hmm, we knew about Project Harbinger, and suspected otherworldly interference after the wedding, but immortal men? This is new. I would like you t-"
Before he could finish, High General Numeri rushed into the infirmary, clutching a letter.
"My Emperor! A message from your Eyes and Ears! Kalmarnavian and Zhenshiwanese fleets approaching Carburg Isle!"
Titus let out a small laugh and clapped, causing the direwolf pup to jump off of Gerold and plod over to Titus.
"Finally, some good news! Prepare the Draco Solis for travel, and have a message sent to the two navies via magus."
Turning to a slave, Titus pulled out a piece of paper and a pen.
"You there, question Ser Gerold here about everything he encountered while in Union captivity and write it down. If you do so, I will grant you your freedom along with your family, and maybe some land too."
The prospect of freedom and land made the slave light up, and he walked over to Gerold to begin writing down his account. As Titus and Numeri left, Camerarius Lartem Auxentius Vorenius hurried towards the duo, holding another letter.
"Your Imperial Majesty! A letter from a Dr. Ron Paul of the...Federal Empire of OxlaTexas? Strange, but anyway he states that we once helped him, and now he is helping us in return!"
Titus merely looked over his shoulder and spoke once more.
"Great, now don't burn the palace down while I'm gone!"

On a small island off of Roskilde

Alqayid Faris al'Asad crumpled the report about the massacre at Roskilde up and threw it away. His apprentice, Almusaeid Eabd Alwahhab Alhusayn, tittered nerveously behind him.
"S-sir, I don't think we are accomplishing anything. The Union is too far away to reliably support the insurgents, and the convoy sent to assist the Roskilde insurgents now will be destroyed as soon as it docks1"
Faris sighed, and turned to Eabd.
"I know it does nothing, but the Premier has ordered us to keep sending in infiltrators."
Faris then smiled, and pointed to a small box.
"But these, oh, these'll do some damage."
Eabd moved to open the box, but Faris blocked him.
"Don't ruin the surprise! Besides, if you open this box, those little creatures in there'll kill both of us. No, this is meant for the King himself! He may not open it, but it'll keep him on his toes if someone were to die so horribly to the qadm."

On the Kalmarnavian Flagship, Orientis Mare

Magus Iulianus Cosso Vario practically fell from a portal in front of Prince Argalaic. Standing, Vario brushed himself off and began to speak.
"His Imperial Majesty, Emperor Titus Helvius Venatius, wishes to welcome yo-by the Phoenix, what is that commotion!?"
Turning, Vario let out a small yelp upon seeing the dragons. Turning back to the prince, Vario spoke.
"Should I wait for a better time, or do you need a little assistance?"

Aboard the IZN Obsidian Dragon

Magus Secundinia Luperca huffed when she exited the portal that appeared behind Admiral Sato. Even though she had helped the Magustyrs only a little bit, she felt exhausted. No wonder only Magustyrs and Archmagi used portals, and only occasionally. Stratighning herself up, Secundinia spoke, albeit broken, Zhenshiwanese.
"Greeting. I Magus Luperca. Come holding? Um, bearing welcome from king? Lord? Emperor! Emperor Titus Helvius Venatius. Welcome to Aurania!"

[Alegeharia]

Eastern Carburg Isle
Unused to seeing a noble act so casual in front of them, the officer whose uniform was practically covered in medals spoke indignantly.
"Hey! I outrank Sergeant Eadnod!"
The offended sergeant turned to the officer and poked his chest.
"Oh yeah? Says who, corporalis? Your father?"
The corporalis puffed out his chest, causing his medals to jingle.
"Yes, he does! Need I remind you who he is? Martii Dominus Arruns Hosidius Sympronian of Atanium! And I, Claudio Tettidius Sympronian, being of noble birth, therefore outrank you!"
Just before the argument turned into a brawl, a man in a black and purple uniform with the Phaenixian phoenix plastered on his arms walked in, the two medals on his chest shining gold.
"You both are outranked by me."
Startled, all in the room snapped to attention, with Sergeant Eadnod shouting.
"Yes, Legatus Opiter Camillius Salinatori!"
Turning from the soldiers, Legatus Salinatori spoke to Malik and Aither.
"Well, Your Highness, Your Majesty, welcome to Shatharhur. Please, make yourself comfortable."

Shatharhur, Carburg Isle

---

Malik:

Malik sighed hearing permission to “chill”, promptly laid back down sticking his tongue at Aither as he did so, kicking his paws back onto the couch. “So what’s the status of Shatharhur, uhh…” He paused thinking of that title. “Legatus was it? Or Legatus Opiter?” Malik was unsure of the full rank and scooted up a little to lay up some for better view. “I think we arrived early or in the wrong place, but I think we can help out here, truthfully I was hoping to meet Arge again…” He sighed and stretched. “Well at any rate tell me what’s going on good sir! Lets get this party started.” His tail started beating like a rapid drum.

Aither:

Aither quirked a brow as he chewed on a bamboo chute, he couldn’t help but smirk at the conflict that was growing and waved at the higher up walking in. He rolled his eyes as Malik blew raspberries at him. Royals or not, brothers were brothers. Aither listened to the pup’s conversation then walked over to the legate. “Greetings, the small one is Malik, King of Alegeharia, and I am Aither, it is nice to meet you, though I wish on better terms hmm?” Aither huffed and pulled out a map placing it on the table. “We got forces coming to the isles, and two more units went to take a town for protection and refugee housing. My own forces are purely airplanes and small force that is currently helping guard the planes.

[Kalmarnavia]

The Kungshallen, Roskilde

The dawn air hung heavy with smog from the factories and the smoke of the camps. Thousands of men were pouring through the city to the docks, clad in armour grasping their arms with the banners of their lords flying high. Mechanised cannons, rolling practically off the conveyor belt onto the road to the docks, cut through the crowds. Capable of firing a variety of armaments over seven miles, these weapons would be critical to any Kalmarnavian victory.

The bells of the city temples, from the Great Temple to the smallest community shrine, greeted the new day. From her balcony high upon the two central hills, Lady Rachel Vasa smiled. She could see, just barely, the purple banner of her House with the silver screaming eagle spread across it. She had wished her father Lord Frederick and her brothers Yoren and Johan well the night before. Within weeks they would join her love on the battlefield.

She missed Argalaic more than was possible to express. They should have been married days ago now, but that would wait for his return from the war. They had been close as children, her father's sister was the late Queen Arellia- Aragalaic's mother. They were not supposed to be betrothed, but Argalaic had cast aside every other Noble Lady and foreign princess presented to him. His brother could marry for politics, he was the heir. He would marry for love. And he told the King that if not Rachel, then no one. She loved him deeply, ignoring all who disparaged his arrogance, his supposed temper and most of all his wandering eye. She knew he looked at other women, but she also knew that the bastard child born of the niece of Lord Heelstein was not his. The child had dark hair, not the flame red of House Wend. And besides...of the two of them, it was far more likely Rachel would have taken her to bed rather than Arge.

He had his role on the battlefield, and she had hers in the capital. It had fallen to Rachel to hold together the remainder of Argalaic's supporters who had not also gone off to war. They had roles to play in the days ahead.

Rachel turned to her ladies in waiting, and smiled. The sun was now breaking through the clouds and the smog, reflecting its light onto her brilliant golden hair.

"Come along, my dear. We mustn't be late."

Taking the secret stairwells and passages of the Royal fortress Arge had shown to her over the years allowed Rachel to pass through to the Great Council Chamber without running into the merchants and industrials waiting outside the Throne Room to doll out sycophantic praise to King Jaeherys in order to win some new royal contract.

The Chamber was largely empty. Most of council was either off at war, overseeing the departing army, or in the case of the Captain General mopping up after the previous few days problems. All that remained were the King, the Great Scholar...and Crown Prince Baelon.

Rachel cursed internally at the sight of Baelon, but did not let her smile slip. She curtsied low.

"Your Grace."

Jaeherys smiled warmly. Baelon scowled.

"Why Lady Rachel, what brings you to the Chamber? We are about to begin, so I would suggest returning to speak with me afterwards."
"Oh, I know you are about to begin, Your Grace. That is why I am here."

Rachel approached the enormous, ornate table and sat down. Baelon leaned forward, aghast.

"Just what do you suppose you are doing, woman?"

Rachel smiled serenely, and withdrew a sealed scroll from her long silk sleeve.
She handed it to the High Scholar, the smile not for one moment dropping from her lips.

"My betrothed, the Prince Argalaic, has instructed me to sit on this council in his stead whilst he fights the war."
"You cannot. You are not of the Blood you have no right."
"Why my Prince, the Lords Varyn, Foley and Knarlson are not of the blood yet sit upon this council. I am a noble, and any noble may be sent to this Council as proxy for any member, even one of House Wend."

The High Scholar shakily cracked the wax seal and unwound the scroll.

"Lady Rachel speaks true, Your Grace. And this instruction is in your son's hand."

The King scrutinised the paper, a thin smile on his lips. He finally looked to Lady Rachel.

"Very well. As King, I do hereby bestow upon you the title of Great Councillor of State until such times as the Prince returns."

Baelon fumed silently. Rachel looked at the King, and then to his petulant heir. They both knew exactly why she was here. But they would not say anything, not directly anyway. And nor would she. She was sworn to Arge, and would keep true.

She smiled warmly.

"Thank you, Your Grace. If I may, I propose we begin with discussion of the latest troop deployment. Their departures must be expedited so as not to give those Rhodari heathens too keen a head start..."

Above Carburg Isle

The two enormous airships circled the isle. They had broken off from the main fleet a day prior, each with 500 men and 50 mechanised canons along with the materials for constructing camps, huts, and command posts.

Ser Rhion Varyn peered through his telescope from the command deck. He was along way from the icefields of Nunaatland, but more than ready to serve his prince. He sighted the outposts manned by the forces of the Emperor, and turned to the captain.

"Signal the other ship. The landings commence now."

Within moments, both ships vented helium from their gasbags and descended. Great steel anchors were dropped, and the rear doors opened sliding out enormous ramps. Huge supply trucks rumbled down, followed by the cannons, and finally the men. The white bear of House Varyn, the 3 black towers of House Foley and the golden kraken of House Knarlson fluttered on their banners as they marched.

Ser Rhion, mounted on a white draft horse, was joined by Ser Eddard Foley on a small grassy outcrop overlooking the landing site. Ser Eddard's warhorse just about kept her footing on the slippery grass. He turned to Rhion.

"Suppose our enemy attacks before the fleet can land the remainder of the men?"
"Fear not, Ed. The emperor's men here will bolster our numbers. And besides, all these Union droogs would do by attacking now would be to give the dragons a proper warm up. We set camp here, launch some raids, and hold fast. We have hundreds of thousands of men back home. Soon, we shall show these savages the might of the Six Realms, and they shall tremble to see it."

Above him, his squires had planted the poles bearing the banners. A great cheer went up as, above them on a taller staff the red banner of House Wend unfurled, the crowned dragon snarling in the direction of the Union.

[Phaenix]

Carburg Isle

Lord Karl Drailfik sat atop his destrier and coughed up bloody phlegm. His thralls had alerted him of the Kalmarnavian landing, and since Legatus Opiter was speaking with the Alegharians, Lord Karl was tasked with making a good first impression on the foreigners. Drawing his ancestral sword, Drachenwut, he boomed.
"Forward, march!"
The century of Imperial legionaries, all one-hundred in black greatcoats and spiked helms, snapped to attention and marched lockstep towards the Kalmarnavians, while the ten Keirch knights rode towards Ser Eddard and Ser Rhion. Once they reached the two men, the knight carrying the Drailfik coat-of-arms, a white dragon on a black field, spoke.
"You are in the presence of Lord Karl Sohn von Otto Drailfik, Lord of Drachenhalle and Legatus Opiter's right hand."
Lord Karl nodded towards the two men, his plate armor clinking, and spoke.
"My apologies, good sirs. Legatus Opiter is currently treating with the Alegharian envoys, so I will be speaking with you instead. Now, my men will assist your soldiers in setting up camp, but be prepared to move. Once Emperor Titus arrives, we will storm Ushund and then take the port city of Narag before the Union can reorganize their fleets."
As Karl was speaking, the Imperial legionaries began to assist the Kalmarnavians in setting up their camp. Karl coughed once more and spat bloody phlegm into his handkerchief, before resuming.
"By the Forefathers, I'm getting too old for these campaigns. I fought for Titus' grandfather, Emperor Cornelium III, then his son, Emperor Gaius, and now his grandson, Emperor Titus. They called Cornelium 'the Vengeful Falcon,' and for good reason too. If he was here, we would've already kicked these Union bastards into the sea and burned their pathetic island."
Lord Karl gazed into the distance for a moment, before breaking into a coughing fit. Once he was finished, he looked back up at the Kalmarnavians.
"Ah, but I'm rambling. Please, follow me and we'll get you quarters befitting those of noble birth."

The Kungshallen, Roskilde

The bustling sounds of Roskilde quieted slightly as the hooded man approached the Roskilde, package in his hand. His skin was coted with dirt, and he walked with a limp. As he approached, he began mumbling.
"Course I get the suicide mission. Bloody hell, can't those Gozardi or whatever they're called do this themselves? Don't they know what happened to Ninehands?"
The man was a Kalmarnavian, but if asked where he hailed from he would respond with, "the road." Never being in one place for long helped the vagabond known as Darick of Elsewhere do his job, which was usually smuggling drugs for one petty crime family or the other. But the Union offer to simply give the box in his hands to anyone at the palace was too tempting to pass up. His weight in Union gold if all he did was hand off the package. As he approached, a guard called out to him.
"STOP! Who are you, and what business do you have here?"
Darick bowed over and spoke.
"Just a courier, m'lord. A package from a...Dramon Chandyll. I think he's a merchant of some sort. Anyways, m'lord, he said he'd pay me well to give this to someone at the palace."
The creatures inside the box, the qadm, scurried around, but a shake quieted them. The qadm were no larger than a finger, but the twenty or so in the box would swarm anyone they saw and devour them in minutes.

In a Cove South of Roskilde

The Rhodari captain of the Veselá Dievka tittered nervously. He and one other Union freighter, disguised as humble traders from the Empire's Western colonies, had agreed to ship two whole ships of weapons to the Union supporters in Roskilde, but the group they were supposed to be meeting were running late. The cargo included two-hundred Točiť sa rifles, five crates of explosives, and an experimental Obor-class walker, the bipedal mech hidden under several crates of fruit. The man looked around, hoping to see his contact so he could leave this strange land and return to Rhodas.

[Kalmarnavia]

Carburg Isle

Ser Rhion looked puzzled at the grizzled lord before him. He looked to Ser Eddard, who appeared to share his confusion.

"Pardon me, ser, but I am concerned. Our advance force is but five thousand strong, most of whom are yet to depart from the fleet. The first wave of our army and supplies shall not arrive for at least two weeks, by which time we shall have a further fifty thousand at our disposal. Prince Aragalaic will wish to hold fast here, and utilise the dragons in raids until more of our forces have arrived."

Ser Eddard chimed in as they rode.

"It may be possible that our forces support any attack, well the dragons anyway. But our Prince will not wish to throw the full weight of our forces into the fray until we have full weight. It will take our ships, our supplies, our men, those two weeks at least to get here. Then our battle fleet shall have to refuel before the further waves. Unless you people have some other means by which close to a quarter of a million men, tens of thousands of mechanised cannons, and all our supplies and munitions can be gotten here sooner I am afraid that beyond the dragons the support we can offer in the initial attack you speak of is limited."

The Kalmarnavian camp was quickly being thrown up as they marched. Rhion looked overhead as the massive airships departed. No dragons in aight yet. He frowned. The fleet would be there soon, and then they would have true aerial superiority.

Outside the Kungshallen

The guard raised a quizzical eyebrow beneath his helm. From within the guardhouse, five of his comrades stepped out, their rifles at the ready. The guard pointed to the box.

"No one save the royal couriers carry goods bound for the Kungshallen. And you don't look like you are a member of the Courier Corps of the Most High Order of Merchantmen...who is this package for?"

A second guard walked closer.

"Never 'eard of this Chandyll fella...what's his trade?"

A third sidled over, keeping his finger near to the trigger of his gun.

"Sounds like this one has a dockside accent. You drink down by the wharves, then? Ever been to that tavern got raided the day before last?"

A fourth guard slung his rifle across his back at put a hand on Darick's shoulder.

"Best you come inside with us, mate. Answer our questions, let us get to the bottom of this, hey?"

The Coves, a few miles outside of the city

A sharp whistle reverberated around the cove. From behind rocks, around 300 riflemen clad in the white armour of House Orjorden and a further fifty in the uniform of the Royal Guard popped up.

Ser Kevin Ojorden strode out into the light, his pistol trained on the captain of one of the freighters.

"In the name of Jaeharys, of the House Wend, the First of his Name, King of Kalmarnavia, Lord of the Six Realms, defender of the faith, ruler of the skies, of the Blood of the Conqueror and Blood of the Dragon I, Kevin of House Ojorden, hereby place you under arrest. Do not resist. You face several hundred well armed and trained soldiers. Outside, three destroyers of the Royal Fleet have closed the straits. And any moment now-"

The island shook and small fragments of rock fell. A deafening roar could be heard, as a fairly large black and amber dragon dropped from the sky and landed on the small hill overlooking the bay.

"...a dragon will appear to support our efforts. Lay down your arms, raise your hands in surrender, and come quietly."

[Zhenshiwa]

Rhaena watched in horror as the foreign rider dove towards one of the dragon platforms. Not out of fear of attack, but because he had dove towards the carrier housing Victarion. The bronze behemoth wouldn't take kindly to his sudden appearance. She pulled her reins, and Jacobus dove afterwards. Zanthar followed suit, Radnor grasping the reins for dear life.

"Try and direct him to our carrier, Rhae! Victarion will roast him alive, and then come for us!"

Rhaena yanked her reins, and Jacobus cut in front of the foreigner. The carrier and the gargantuan, ancient beast were both quickly rising to meet them. Radnor pulled alongside, Zanthar snapping none too nicely at the foreign dragon in an effort to force a course change. Radnor alternated between pointing frantically down towards Victarion, who now had noticed the oncoming dragons and was roaring incredibly angrily, while shaking his head and pointing frantically to the empty carrier and nodding.

Aboard the flagship

The radio operator had barely finished translation of the Empress's message back into the Common Tongue before Dontas spied the three dragons barrelling towards the dragon platforms.

"Twelve save them, I think Victarion might attack!"

Argalaic grabbed the binoculars from him.

"Ser Jason! Signal the platforms, I need them to distract Victarion and signal to the foreigner as effectively as they can! I doubt the Empress would be happy if her man was torn apart."

Aboard the dragon platforms

A team of crewmen hurried pushed hulking chunks of oxen and boar out into Victarion's lair, whistling and shouting and waving frantically. It seemed to work, as the ancient creature rounded on them... And poured forth pitch black fire. The crew dove for cover behind the heatproof barriers with the carcases taking the brunt. The charred, blackened meat seemed to fully capture Victarion's attention, for he stalked over to it, the deck plates quaking each time one of his four paws clanged down.

Meanwhile, on the empty carrier of Rhaena, Radnor and Xenia the crew frantically waved enormous green landing flags to try and draw the Zhenshiwanese to them.

Flight 18, Deployed From IZN Yoruga, DCV-8

Takeo didn't see what the big fuss was about until he'd spotted the sudden gout of flame from what had to be the largest dragon he'd ever seen, at which point training took over his awestruck mind. He tugged the reins, commanding his mount to tighten up into the smallest target signature possible. It wouldn't do for long, as Scout Dragons had notoriously low tolerance for that kind of flying, but perhaps it would be just long enough to arrive aboard the carrier being indicated by the large green flags.

The dragon flared its wings, squawking raucously as it landed upon the deck of the strange foreign ship. Spotting the various crew members, none of which wore the familiar Zhenshiwanese Naval Uniform, it lowered its head and growled defensively. Takeo patted it a few times on the side, drawing its attention back towards him. Wordlessly he clenched a fist, the leather of his flight gloves straining against his powerful grip, before abruptly flattening his palm and jerking it horizontally. The dragon growled with confusion but ultimately relaxed, lowering one of its wings to the deck. Takeo unstrapped his harness from the saddle and slid down the proffered wings, sliding to his feet and rolling his shoulders while examining the members of the ship's crew.

IZN Obsidian Dragon, DCV-4, The Imperial Armada

Sato was still contemplating just how he would have engaged the Kalmarnavian Navy had they proven hostile... While the Empress insisted that they could be trusted, the Admiral was not optimistic. They were outsiders, and the outside world had historically been ever hostile to the people of the Zhenshiwanese Empire. His mind gradually turned to the mission his fleet currently embarked upon, that being to aid the Phaenix Empire in their war against the Union and other obvious threats to Josai... Once those threats were eliminated there would likely be need for the power vacuum to be filled, and it seemed the Empress was intent on having Zhenshiwa be the one to fill it.

As the Empire consolidated its armies and gradually built them up, the navy would be eliminating any threat that could be posed on the sea... With that taken care of, it could deploy its military with nigh impunity anywhere it so chose. Like Phaenix, for example. The Empress had made clear her intentions, to change Phaenix and the rest of the world for the better. No more slavery, no more unchecked violence against dissenters... By that point the Army would have been deployed to assist the Phaenix military, they would have already fortified their positions within the mainland... Dug in like ticks. If Phaenix made the reforms on their own, that would be excellent... If not, however, the Zhenshiwanese Army would be ready to give them the necessary... 'Encouragement'.

At least, that was what Sato predicted to be the Empress' Overall strategy. It would certainly be what he would do in her place. Then again, the Empress likely had more information on what was happening within the grand scope of the war than he did. Indeed, he had been given orders and a message to deliver upon arriving in port that seemed to make her initial stance far more straightforward. He may have been the High Admiral assigned to oversee all fleet operations, but he was by no means as well informed as her Imperial Majesty. Adjusting the hem of his jacket, he paused when he heard several surprised and alarmed shouts from behind him within the bridge.

Rounding to find the source of the noise, he was confronted by a wall of magic. Out of instinct his hand flew to the sword at his waist, ready to draw the blade in an instant. What he saw was a strange woman, obviously Phaenixian by her garb, stepping through a flat disk of light. Her Zhenshiwanese was difficult to parse out, there wasn't nearly enough fluidity to her pronunciation, but Sato could make out the message well enough. The security officers on the bridge, however, were not so inclined. Two of them emerged onto the bridge wing, pistols drawn and leveled at the apparent interloper.

"Assassin!" One of them shouted, only for Sato to raise a commanding hand.

"Lower your weapons, Ensign." Sato stated calmly, lowering his hand and clasping it behind his back. Both security officers appeared confused, but ultimately complied and holstered their pistols. "Miss Luperca, your welcome is appreciated." He gave a respectful bow before returning to his full height. "In the future, however, perhaps choose a less... Abrupt form of transportation. Our culture typically does not look kindly upon unexpected visitors." The man made another gesture with his hand, apparently dismissing the two security officers who returned to their stations on the bridge. "You are welcome to arrive in port with us, but if you intend to return, I would ask you deliver a message on behalf of Her Imperial Majesty. The Empire will not accept supplies or provisions produced by slave labor, these are orders directly from Her Imperial Majesty. Naturally, this may diminish our abilities to assist your fleets in the War... She will, however, revisit her decision should sufficient steps be taken to rectify the matter."

[Phaenix]

Carburg Isle

Ser Rhion looked puzzled at the grizzled lord before him. He looked to Ser Eddard, who appeared to share his confusion.

"Pardon me, ser, but I am concerned. Our advance force is but five thousand strong, most of whom are yet to depart from the fleet. The first wave of our army and supplies shall not arrive for at least two weeks, by which time we shall have a further fifty thousand at our disposal. Prince Aragalaic will wish to hold fast here, and utilise the dragons in raids until more of our forces have arrived."

Ser Eddard chimed in as they rode.

"It may be possible that our forces support any attack, well the dragons anyway. But our Prince will not wish to throw the full weight of our forces into the fray until we have full weight. It will take our ships, our supplies, our men, those two weeks at least to get here. Then our battle fleet shall have to refuel before the further waves. Unless you people have some other means by which close to a quarter of a million men, tens of thousands of mechanised cannons, and all our supplies and munitions can be gotten here sooner I am afraid that beyond the dragons the support we can offer in the initial attack you speak of is limited."

The Kalmarnavian camp was quickly being thrown up as they marched. Rhion looked overhead as the massive airships departed. No dragons in aight yet. He frowned. The fleet would be there soon, and then they would have true aerial superiority.

Outside the Kungshallen

The guard raised a quizzical eyebrow beneath his helm. From within the guardhouse, five of his comrades stepped out, their rifles at the ready. The guard pointed to the box.

"No one save the royal couriers carry goods bound for the Kungshallen. And you don't look like you are a member of the Courier Corps of the Most High Order of Merchantmen...who is this package for?"

A second guard walked closer.

"Never 'eard of this Chandyll fella...what's his trade?"

A third sidled over, keeping his finger near to the trigger of his gun.

"Sounds like this one has a dockside accent. You drink down by the wharves, then? Ever been to that tavern got raided the day before last?"

A fourth guard slung his rifle across his back at put a hand on Darick's shoulder.

"Best you come inside with us, mate. Answer our questions, let us get to the bottom of this, hey?"

The Coves, a few miles outside of the city

A sharp whistle reverberated around the cove. From behind rocks, around 300 riflemen clad in the white armour of House Orjorden and a further fifty in the uniform of the Royal Guard popped up.

Ser Kevin Ojorden strode out into the light, his pistol trained on the captain of one of the freighters.

"In the name of Jaeharys, of the House Wend, the First of his Name, King of Kalmarnavia, Lord of the Six Realms, defender of the faith, ruler of the skies, of the Blood of the Conqueror and Blood of the Dragon I, Kevin of House Ojorden, hereby place you under arrest. Do not resist. You face several hundred well armed and trained soldiers. Outside, three destroyers of the Royal Fleet have closed the straits. And any moment now-"

The island shook and small fragments of rock fell. A deafening roar could be heard, as a fairly large black and amber dragon dropped from the sky and landed on the small hill overlooking the bay.

"...a dragon will appear to support our efforts. Lay down your arms, raise your hands in surrender, and come quietly."

Carburg Isle

Lord Karl laughed, though it held no mirth.
"Would that we could wait here, but the Third Fleet engaged the Union fleet stationed at Ushund, and though we inflicted heavy casualties, the Union dogs unleashed some sort of mechanical that ripped our fleet to shreds before retreating to Narag."
Lord Karl spat our more bloody phlegm before speaking once more.
"We have only a limited window before the Union fleet is repaired, and Ushund is lightly defended. If we take the city, we will control the straits, allowing us to cut off trade to Southern Durikad. And besides, this island alone can not sustain a large army."
As Karl was speaking, a large airship blotted out the sun, its sides painted golden and a dragon decorating the front of it. The legionaries cheered at the sight of it, and the airship slowly began to descend. Coughing, Karl turned back to the two men.
"Ah, it seems the Emperor has come to lead the battle personally."

The Kungshallen, Roskilde

Darick flinched when the guard put a hand on his shoulder, but let out an uneasy chuckle at the mention of the tavern.
"Nope, m'lord. I try to not to make a habit of drinking with rabble-rousers. Shortens the life span."
The qadm in the box began moving around again, so Darick shook it a little to quiet them down.
"But I would be more than happy to follow you, m'lords. Never been in a castle before, except up North. Got drunk and pissed a lord off, and I briefly remember seeing the inside of a castle. But anyways, I just took this job to feed myself. Chandyll said he'd pay me well if I took this box here to the Kungshallen and handed it to someone important."
Internally, Darick was panicking. The Union men had only told him that the things in the box would devour anyone in sight if released, and he did not want to die that way.

The Coves

The captain stood frozen, before allowing a smile to creep across his face.
"Ah, I see. Well, if we must enter Thuon's Hall, then let it be with smiles on our faces!"
With that, the crews of the ships grabbed their rifles, and charged, screaming and firing. One man entered the Obor-class mech and started the engine. The mech roared to life, and grabbed a large gatling gun.

The mech then jumped into the water, joining the fray as close on fifty Rhodari sailors charged without abandon at the Kalmarnavians.

IZN Obsidian Dragon

Luperca nodded, and spoke once more in broken Zhenshiwanese.
"Your mistress? Empress! Empress be pleased know Emperor releasing? Leaving? Ah, freeing slave. Reform hard. Nobles unpleasant? Dislike! Yes, nobles dislike freeing slave. I stay with ship, insure no fake? False? Accidental firing."

[Kalmarnavia]

Carburg Isle

Ser Rhion frowned.

"Very well. As acting commander of our forces here I shall discuss with the Emperor. How light are these defences? I am fully prepared to request some... Air support to soften then up?"

Rhion clapped and a soldier with a large backpack with many intricate aerials protruding shambled over. He carried a long range radio pack, with which as many dragons as could be mustered could be called upon for aod whilst the fleet remained half a day away.

On board the flagship

Argalaic signalled his cousins to land and rest their mounts once he saw the Zhenshiwanese rider safely avoid a roasting. Makar turned to the emissary who had appeared from literally nowhere, and had in the process knocked Prince Aemond off his feet.

"Greetings to you. An advance party has commenced landing on the island, which we shall reach by dawn. Arge, what is your earliest suggestion for a course of action?"
"If the Emperor intends upon sending his remaining forces in the area to assault the port city and gain a foothold on Union soil, we cannot support with troops. We are without the bulk of our army for another few weeks. However, I shall personally lead dragons into battle. Nothing the Union possess can take down our dragons. Styrax, Victarion, Valerion, Chiron, Mermadin and Sunsmoke are ready to take wing."

Argalaic eyed the island in the distance, his heart leaping in his chest. Proper battle would soon be upon him. And he relished the opportunity.

Aboard the carrier
Jacobus landed awkwardly alongside Zanthar. She was half bigger than the small green beast, but she tried to keep her distance from the foreigner. He didn't smell like her kin.

Rhaena and Radnor slipped from their saddles, calling the crew to aid the new emissary.

Radnor extended a hand in greeting.

"You fly well, Sir, although it is easy on a mount so small I suppose."

Rhaena got as close to the foreign dragon as she dared, Jacobus huffing smoke and growling behind her. She was awed by the creature, it was so like their own dragons yet... Alien. She couldn't quite figure out how.

One of the chief stewards bounded down the steel steps from the lower crew decks.

"Your Graces, well landed. We have laid out clean clothes and refreshments for you and our new... friend... Does anyone know if he understands the Common Tongue?"

Rhaena walked off, untangling her red hair from her helm.

"Come along, cousin. Bring our new companion inside, I shall be glad to know him better."

Outside the Kungshallen

With a whistle a further five guards were summoned. The lead guard put his hand upon Darick's other shoulder.

"Inside the Palace? No, mate. You'll come with us into the guard house here. We'll get in touch with them as up the hills to find out exactly who this is for. Until then, we'll be keeping you company."

One of the new guards placed his hands around the box, trying to gently ease it fron Darrick.

"I'm going to need to seize this, sir, so that we can examine it."

His comrades lowered their rifles at Darrick, as if to underline the request.

[b]The Coves[/b]

Ser Kevin dove for cover as the machine gun unspooled. With cries of anguish he could see many of his men falling, the sheer force of bullets penetrating their armor. Others were gunning down the enemy and engaging them in melee.

A few bullets clearly struck the dragon. His name was Karnage, and his rider was trying very hard to keep him from taking to wing. Why the rider, a young princling of House Wend named Artur, had not opened with flame was beyond Kevin.

"On your feet, Ser..Fi-"

Prince Artur had not been wearing his helm. He learned the hard way that was a mistake, as a stream of bullets cut through his head, causing his clearly inconsequential brain to exit his skull in a spray.

As his rider fell, Karnage reared and roared. While not among the largest of the dragons he was sizeable enough to cause a small landslip as he leapt up into the air and took to wing. Ser Kevin ducked further behind a rock as Karnage reared forward, sending the corpse of his rider flying off, bathing the mechanic suit and both Union ships in a sea of searing red and orange flame.

[Phaenix]

Carburg Isle

As the Draco Solis landed, Emperor Titus, having grown impatient, ignited his wings and soared towards Lord Karl and the Kalmarnavians. Many of the nearby legionaries practically fell on their faces genuflecting, and Lord Karl coughed hard in surprise. Landing in front of Lord Karl, Titus extinguished his wings as to not frighten the horses, who had begun to whinny and stamp their hooves. Turning to Ser Rhion, Emperor Titus spoke.
"Welcome to Aurania, ser. I am Emperor Titus Helvius Venatius, Emperor of Phaenix, titles titles titles, etc."
The Draco Solis had landed at this point, and High General Numeri, along with a contingent of the elite Phoenix Guard, ran up to Titus, all huffing from the long sprint. Numeri gathered his breath and spoke.
"Cousin, what the bloody hell was that for?! You almost set the whole damn ship on fire!"
Titus shrugged and idly juggled a ball of fire.
"What? The ship was taking too long to land, and why have the gifts of a god if you never use them?"
Numeri merely sighed, and the Phoenix Guards, resplendent in their black armor, said nothing. Titus turned back to the Kalmarnavians.
"Anyway, this here is my cousin, the honorable High General Numeri Antistium Septimi, High General of the Exercitus Coetus Meridianam. Now, my Eyes and Ears report that Prince Argalaic and the bulk of your forces are still at sea, yet if we wait even for a day, the Union fleets could regroup and surround us, starving us all and effectively ending the war. So, I propose a solution. My Imperial marines will storm the beach tonight, going across the straits on rafts, and once they take the town, we will use the Draco Solis and your airship to ferry men across. Then, when Prince Argalaic joins us, we will use his dragons to burn the city and their ships to carry our men to the port city of Narag."

Outside the Kungshallen, Roskilde

Darick reluctantly let go of the package, but not before speaking.
"Oh, of course. But my employer said that whatever's in there'll spoil within minutes of opening if not kept cool. How he keeps it cool in this box, I'm not sure. Maybe he's a wizard."
When he heard he was going to the guardhouse, Darick nodded.
"I've been in plenty of guardhouses before. They're alright. Get some food, a place to sleep, human company. I made a friend in one of those a little ways East of here. Said he was Dorin, or Dolan, or maybe Rickard? I don't really remember that night, but he had some delicious mushrooms."
As the box was passed to the guard, the qadm inside scratched at the walls of the box, and Darick spoke once more.
"Oh yeah. If you wanna quiet whatever's in that box, just give it a shake. Works every time. Except if you shake to hard, then it just gets louder."

The Coves

Though the Rhodari were brave, fighting overwhelming numbers was suicide. As the sailors fell, some surrounded by corpses of Kalmarnavians, others all alone, the mech was bathed in dragonfire. Though the mech itself was unharmed, its rider was not. Screaming and bangs could be heard from inside the mech, but soon they stopped, and the smell of cooked flesh permeated the air.

[Imperial Gatorland]

Emperor Titus receives the following telegram from Astrarch Maven:

Your Imperial Majesty

My Gatorlandian forces have just made landfall in Phoenix. We are committed to the defence of realm from the treacherous union. Please advise me on where my forces should be best utilised to support yours. I intend to bring the remainder of the Great Shield Fleet to your country.

Please accept my emissary, Commander Shana Tera, who will act as liaison officer between our forces. I am aware from my intelligence that enemy dragons may be an issue, and am happy to commit my own dragons to fight this threat.

Yours sincerely

Drakvar Naven
Task Force Steel Spear Commander

[Kalmarnavia]

Aboard the flagship

Argalaic listened intently with the radio receiver to his ear. He nodded, murmuring agreement with Ser Rhion as he spoke. Finally, he placed the receiver back in its cradle and turned to the bridge crew.

"Send orders to the whole fleet, set course for the strait between the island. All ahead full."

Makar followed Argalaic out onto the observation deck, where Dontas was surveying the island through binoculars.

"War will soon be upon us, dear cousin."
"Indeed, and not a moment too soon. I need you and Uncle Aemond to perform a task with me...Raenor too. Get yourselves into a launch and make for the carriers, it's passed timed we allowed our allies to see our might."

Within an hour, deafening growls and roars could be heard from the dragon carriers. The crew of the fleet cheered as Victarion, Sunsmoke and Mermadin took flight.

The three giants rose through the air in an arrow formation, Valerion at the apex with his smaller counterparts to his left and right. Whilst they ranked as two of the largest dragons of the world, Sunsmoke and Mermadin were still only around three quarters the size of the ancient bronze monster

As they approached the island, Aemond clad in his signature burgundy armour raised his left fist to signal his son and nephew. Raenor and Makar responded in kind, and bit their mounts to climb.

Carburg Isle

Ser Eddard meandered over to the Emperor and his entourage, bowing low.

"Your Majesty, I have news. Our ships shall be here on the morrow, by mid morning.i anticipate you may start your landing by even tide. But for now, I bid you to divert your attention skywards. Prince Aragalaic has arranged a...display, to demonstrate the power your allied have thrown behind you."

As if on cue, the massive bronze wings of Victarion cut through the clouds. The great beast shook the earth with his roars, as Sunsmoke and Mermadin swooped out from behind. The Kalmarnavian troops whooped and cried out in joy as the three gargantuan dragons flew low over the island. Mermadin at Makar's command did a lazy loop, spouting flame into the skies.

Victarion had flown like an arrow, low over the waters of the strait, towards Union territory. Well within range of any Union artillery, Raenor pulled hard on the reins. Victarion pulled skywards back towards the island, unleashing black and amber flame into the air.

The flypast went on for over an hour before the three dragons formed up to return to the fleet.

Guardhouse, outside the lower hill of the Kungshallen

The guards laughed as they slung Darick into a holding cell. The one who had seized the package placed it on the table.

"It's warm, maybe, but it shan't be comfortable for long...."

The post commander picked up a transmitter set.

"Guard post Delta. We've apprehended a delinquent carrying a highly suspicious package. Requesting a magus and scholar...and Ser Allain, if he is about..."

Moments later, the door to the guard post swung open. In walked two older men in green and cream robes, marking them as a mage and a scholar respectively, followed by the hulking, armoured Ser Allain Goldborough. The King's Justice and High Inquisitor stared at the package.

"Is that it?"

A guard nodded. The mage went to pick the box up, but Ser Allain sat his hand on the man's arm, and shook his head. He picked up the box, and walked over to the cell door.

With a great shunt the bolts of the lock slide open, and the door swung inwards. Ser Allain sat the box roughly at the man's feet, and slammed the door shut. He spoke through the bars of the cell door port.

"Not that I don't trust our new mate here...but I would be highly obliged if you opened that box. Now."

[Marionetonia]

Phaenecian Hearglands
Town of Albium
Main Hall
Subbasement, sublevel 2
Elementary Magic Instruction Lab

The walls were dark, yet shiny. They were divided into an alternating series of brick and panels—or so it appeared. A closer examination would show that the flat spots on the walls and the brick patterns as well were all made of solid granit, and that the brick patterns were irregular, but that, though there was no morter used in their construction, they fit together so closely that one could not pass a slip of paper between any two blocks. A more careful examination would yield the information that the brick pattern that flowed out from the center on one side was repeated in reverse on the other.

This was actually a collaboration. The Phaenicians were experts on fire-formed rock, and this included granite. Their miners could find the stuff better than anyone else. The Etherials were experts on chemically softening stone. Between the two, they could quarry, move and work even the hardest granite with speed and precision that would make the rest of the world envious.

A week ago, the Albium Main Hall had been a burnt out husk. Now, it had two subterranian levels that had not been there before and, in the proudest traditions of their nation's god, the building was no longer vulnerable to the kind of fire that had brought it low only a short time ago—and it was hardly the only change in the landscape. Aurumula had come with her bottomless pot of chicken soup, and it had succored a slightly malnourished and shocked people. The local leaders knew what to do from there, and the Etherials let them do it, no questions asked. And the crops came in and the buildings all went back up—faster. And the Phaenicians had been expert builders BEFORE this exchange.

The Magic classes were held on the Main Hall's lowest level. The lab was actually fairly elaborate. On the western side, a levitating floor brought occupants to the room, much like a lift. Along the southern wall, a portal allowed for the staff to go about their duties. In the northeastern corner, a spiral staircase wound its way to the top floor, giving student and faculty alike an exit even if all magic in and around the building was shut down.

In the center of the room, next to a particularly thick portal, stood Damnage, and a few paces in front of him stood a thickly-bearded man, with gray starting to show through the blackness of the hair, wearing the distincive robes of a Phaenecian Magus. A practice dummy, white with black leather straps holding it to a post, stood behind him.

Damnage looked at him with a certain coolness of disposition.

“You've done well, Vargus,” he said, “as expected. Let's try the reconstitution drill.”

The man smiled and nodded his head.

And then, with no warning, Damnage opened his hand and let loose the hottest fireball he could fire. It was barely powerful enough to ignite the Dummy's torso.

Vargus opened his hand, and, in, a moment, took control of the flames. Using that uniquely Phaenecian spell, FIRY RESURRECTION, he reversed the progress of the flames, until, in another, equal moment, they were gone.
Damnage regarded Vargus with satisfaction. “Good,” he said. “Again.” And, so fast that you could barely see him move, he shot another fireball at the practice dummy.

Vargus responded similarly to what he had done the previous time, but this time Damnage wasn't going so easy. “SHALDON!” he said, and a magical shield formed over the dummy before the defensive spell could take effect.

Not to be so easily outdone, the Magus reached into the pouch at his waist and quickly produced a small stone. In a single, fluid motion, he spoke a quick incantation and threw the stone right into the dummy's heart.

The Shaldon Shield is hellspawn magic, and hellspawn don't trust each other. Every one of their combat spells has a fail safe measure—a fatal weakness. In the case of the Shaldon Shield, this is that, while it is completely effective against unadorned magic, it has no effect on anything physical—not even something with a spell on it. By casting his resurrection spell on the stone, Vargus had in effect stopped Damnage's aggressive magic. Again, the fire's progress reversed until it was completely out.

Damnage smiled. “Excellent. Good improvization.” He reached out and shook Vargus' hand.

Behind them, Brother Buzby adjusted the portal in the side wall. As he did, one of the basic students, a young man with no beard on his face, lifted his hand in a sort of jest. “HEY, YOU!” the boy said. As he did, Damnage appeared next to him and took hold of that hand.

“Careful, hotshot,” the undemon said with a smile. “That's Brother Buzby. He doesn't use combat magic.”

“I'm sorry,” the boy replied. “But—but how does he defend himself?”

For a moment, Damnage lost his smile. “Seriously,” he said, “I hope we never have to find out.

“Anyway,” Damnage continued, “good work today. Let's get some rest and take it up again tomorrow. At this rate, it won't be any time at all before YOU'RE the teachers. Good job!”

The students began to saunter toward the de facto lift, the fatigue of the lessons showing in some as heads slouched and robes hung heavy. The staff—some Etherial and some Phaenician—held back for a moment to see the room clear before reactivating their portal.

And it was precisely then—when the class was bunched on one side of the floor and at their point of greatest fatigue—that the new Foreign Incursion Alarm went off with a vengence.

Clad in black, Union Special Magical Forces began to jump out of the very portal that had been intended for the staff. Something about their clothing rendered them nondescript—there was some sort of sensory distortion glamour on their armor to make them harder to recognize. The first through cast a paralyzing SOUL STEALER spell that he had obviously started before he arrived. Half the class was caught before they could turn to face the invaders.

The counterattack was instantaneous. One of the traditions that the Phaenicians and the Etherials shared was for even the lowest of their mages to be able to reason independently, so it wasn't a single spell that came back at the Unionists, but a combination. Some began with the Shaldon Shield, others used Phaenecian fire magic, still others attacked with the semi-illusion of blindness.

But the shock troops were prepared. The fire spells were the first to fail. Obviously, they had been expecting the Magic of the Phaenix. This did not mean that the Etherials and their combination magic fared that much better, as the Shaldon Shields quickly lost instantiation and the illusions began to wink out. Drat, thought Damnage, they're using consumption spells!

As more troops began to spill through the portal, the remaining unaffected staff and students began another counteroffensive. Courtesy of Damnage, when their sight returned, the first thing that many of them found was a rocket-propelled boxing glove hitting them in the face. The response was as had been for the blindness illusion, but, from the far side of the room, the young man who had spoken with Damnage earlier could be heard to finish a chant with a loud “WAHZAH!!” This was an Etherial defensive spell called BOUNCEBACK, which reflected a spell completely back upon its caster. In a moment, the soldier who had tried to shut the competing magic down found himself enwrapped not only in his own consumption spell, but also in the SOUL STEALER that he had tried to use on the group as he entered. In a moment, there was nothing left of him but a tiny piece of ash. Smoke rose from it as it fell to the floor.

Still, things were not going well. The Unionists had found ways to completely nullify the Phaenician magic and were fast coming to terms with the other spells in the room. It would only be a matter of time before those necrovoric spells sunk home with horrible results.

And that was when Damnage cleared his throat and called out, “BUZBY!”

It was as if the angel had been in a coma. With a jerk, he began to move again. He pushed his glasses back against is nose, and, starting around his head and working over his entire body, a sublime glow spread out. It kept going until it was somehow just there in the entire room.

As that happened, the portal that the invaders were using quickly began to spin. When it did, it ground to pulp anything in its path. Then it split in two, and as one side made short work of every enemy soldier in the classroom, the other could be seen doing the same at its point of origin.

It didn't take long for it to destroy whoever had instantiated it, wherever they were. When that happened, the portal flashed out of existence.

“Don't let your guard down,” Damnage said. “You don't know if they're going to try another wave.”

It took Buzby and Vargus ten minutes to reset the incursion wards on the room. When that was done, part of the class left to establish a heightened security perimeter while others worked on wards in the rest of the building.

“This is not good,” Vargus said to Damnage at length. “It was our magic that failed first against theirs. They've been preparing for a long time. But how did that Brother Buzby of yours—?”

“Haven't figured it out?” Damnage replied. “Buzby is so good it's disgusting. He understands mojo on such a basic level that he can actually take control of other people's spells. I won't even spar with him—I'm that scared of what could happen if one of his takeovers jinxed.”

“The Emperor must hear of this,” Vargus said.
“Yup,” Damnage replied. “Doesn't mean we're going to stop, but Titus needs to know about this. And we're going to have to develop more hybrid spells now. BOUNCEBACK isn't an easy spell to cast, and it's basically the only thing that worked against them.”

“True,” Vargus replied. “But we WILL regain the upper hand.”