Chapter III

And the World Burned

Disclaimer: See Chapter One.

Dover Covert, 1805

When Crane hit the Brute, he projected his biotic corona straight into it, driving it to it's knees and cushioning his impact as he grasped it's stringy neck in one hand, before slicing it through with a reverse-grip cut before it could rise. The massive hulk fell flat as it's head dropped to the ground and rolled away.
A trio of shots from his Suppressor dropped the Cannibals, before he switched to his Lancer as he searched for more hostiles.

None.

He set off at a jog along the wooded path and abruptly found himself in a clearing. A gunshot rang out and a bullet ricocheted off his barrier, causing Crane to swing behind the nearest tree.

'Hold!' He called around the tree. 'Friendly, coming out!' He walked back around the tree, rifle stuck in the air along with his other hand.

This time, he noticed the clearing was occupied by a gigantic dragon, easily three times as big if not bigger than Levitas and probably massing a lot more. He looked down at Crane with a pair of baleful orange eyes that held a look Crane was more used to seeing in the eyes of Krogan: checked anger.
He was coiled protectively around a large building with a hastily thrown up barricade around it, with people clutching flintlocks crouched behind it or in the building's windows.

Judging by the amount of bullet holes both had been subjected to, it was a miracle they weren't dead.
The corpses strewn on the ground indicated that they were good shots as well: The only way they could've been this successful at killing Reapers with flintlocks is if they had've shot something vital.

Suddenly, Crane's left foot slipped in a patch of mud and a hissing noise indicated his armour was corroding. He quickly wiped his foot off and kept walking, careful where he put his feet this time.

So, the dragon spat acid? That explained a lot. Considering the lack of Ravagers, Swarmers and the fact the acid had been a different colour and consistency, it was the only sensible conclusion.

'That's close enough.' The woman who'd just spoken had a wicked looking scar down the left side of her face and had her brunette hair in a severe pony tail. Her build was reminiscent of Rafaela Enriquez, a N7 Demolisher Engineer Crane had had the pleasure of deploying with on several hellish missions against the Collectors with and judging by her general unkemptness at present, she was just as handy in a close-in fight. Considering it was 1805 and feminism was nowhere near being a thing yet, that was a very interesting development.

Crane complied, collapsing his Lancer onto his back as he did, before removing his helmet.

'Who are you?' The woman asked before Crane could speak.
'Corporal Ivan Crane, Systems Alliance Marines.' He replied. 'Looks like you've had a fight of it.'
'That we have, although with Excidium on our side, it was hardly a fair one.' The woman replied.
'Well, I'd be on my way to Dover now to help contain the situation there, but a man named Rankin said you needed my help more. So what's the situation, ma'am?' Crane asked.

The look of surprise on the woman's face was total, but to her credit she recovered quickly.

'About half an hour ago, those things wandered into the clearing and when one of my midwingmen challenged them, the lot of them shot him, then turned those damn guns of theirs on everyone else. If Excidium hadn't have knocked them down then sprayed them, we'd have been dead in short order. Judging by the racket from everyone else, they're similarly pressed. A few couriers and light fliers tried to take off and see what was going on, but these things seem to have some field guns. Poor bastards never had a chance. We managed to put this barricade together and we've been hunkering behind it ever since, repelling attacks. And these things take some killing, not to mention the big ones.' The woman replied.
'Sounds like you've done rather well under the circumstances.' Crane replied. 'Be that as it may, best you can do right now is try and link up with anyone else still alive and try and clear the area. After that, I need to get to Dover, the city is under attack as well.' He explained.
'And you're going to do all that are you?' The woman asked.
'With or without your help.' Crane replied evenly. 'Although it'd make things a lot easier on everyone if we worked together.' He added.
'How do I know I can trust you?' The woman asked.
'I killed another scouting force headed this way when I got here. It had one of the big ones in it. That enough for you? Or do you want to waste time and stick around until another hunting pack shows up and fight together and mutually earn each other's trust in a touching display of human unity?' Crane asked scathingly. 'I wouldn't have fucking bothered talking if I were here to kill you. And I certainly wouldn't have put my gun away and taken off my helmet.' He added, projecting his voice forcefully without actually shouting.

'I think you might've met your match in oration, Jane.' The dragon said with a touch of amusement. 'He looks like he's good in a fight any road.' He added, sounding as if he approved.
'Glad I meet your standard of approval.' Crane replied, inclining his head to the dragon,-his voice containing the barest trace of a sarcastic 'no shit Sherlock' remark,-then snapped around as a mixed group of Geth Troopers, Cannibals and Collector Troopers, along with several Husks and Abominations walked into the clearing, variously groaning, gurgling and chittering.

Crane didn't bother with his helmet, he drew his Lancer again, before projecting a Singularity into the group, before taking off at a dead run and hurdling the barricade, before plastering himself to it and hurling a Warp field at the Reaper forces caught in the Singularity.

The resulting Biotic explosion put the Husks and Abominations out of the picture and staggered the other Reaper troops close to the blast.

Crane followed up with a Shockwave and continued firing, noting that every now and then one of the men on the barricade would fire their musket, which usually resulted in a Cannibal's or Collector's head exploding.

Unsurprisingly, Crane's Lancer was the only weapon that had any noticeable effect on the Geth, but that aside, the assault force was dead in short order.

At which point Crane found himself staring at a thicket of swords.

'What was that?' The woman,-who appeared to be in charge as well as this group's spokesperson,-asked in a deceptively calm tone of voice.
'Biotics. Kind of hard to explain right now, but let's just say I can lift stuff with my mind, shred it on a microscopic level and generally fuck stuff up with a hand gesture.' He explained. 'And no, it's not magic or witchcraft and the religious among you can keep your opinions to yourself if you don't want a Biotic punch in the face.' He added in a tone that brooked no argument.
'You're not in any position to be making threats.' The woman stated.
'I'm not the one making an issue out of this.' Crane replied tensely. 'Besides, after seeing that, do you really want to pick a fight with me?' He asked rhetorically.

'He's got a point there, Captain.' One of the men still manning the barricade instead of threatening him with a sword commented.

'Alright then, we'll be right behind you on Excidium.' The woman said, sheathing her cutlass. 'We'll go around as many clearings as we can, gather anyone who's still alive and get back to the headquarters and go from there.'
'Sounds like a plan.' Crane said, opening his omni-tool. 'While you get ready, I'll try and requisition some equipment. I don't know about you, but I need ammo. And I'm sure you'd appreciate some better weapons yourself.' He added, frowning as he managed to get a line through to the Kosciuszko. It was patchy, but stable. 'Command, this is Corporal Ivan Crane, anyone still alive in there?'


Off the coast of England, English Channel 1805, concurrently

Admiral Susan Fletcher looked at the chaotic scene her CIC had devolved into since making splashdown and nodded in satisfaction.

To the untrained eye, there was no order here and nothing could be accomplished.

She saw different; every member of her bridge crew was currently attending to their assigned duty with diligence, if the various status reports she was seeing were anything to go by.

Her new favourite aid, a Geth platform dubbed Abacus was currently filtering any that required her attention. There were more of those than she really liked.

'Do we have communications?' She asked, pushing strands of blonde hair out of her eyes.
'The ship's Quantum Entanglement Communicator is still operational, but traditional communications are weak at best.' Abacus replied. 'I believe it has to do with the lack of communications satellites in orbit. The only signals I am reliably receiving appear to be from ships in orbit and AI platforms coming back online after the Crucible event. No Reaper capital ships reported, although chatter on ground force channels suggest multiple engagements with Reaper ground forces, although again, due to the scarcity of communication infrastructure such as was deployed at the start of the operation, connection is poor and reports are plagued by interference. An accurate picture of proceedings is hard to assemble.' It replied.

'Keep me posted.' Admiral Fletcher replied, then turned her attention to the situation in engineering:

Their engines were offline, but apparently the Mass Effect core was still operational and keeping the Kosciuszko light enough that coupled with the air inside, it floated. They'd need several shuttles or more likely frigates to get her back in the air, but Chief Engineer George Michaels assured her that he had his people working to get the engines functional as quickly as possible.

'Admiral!' Called one of the communications officers from a little way down the central console. 'I've got a SpecOps soldier here demanding to be patched through to whoever is in charge.' The man reported. 'Says he's got some intel that you need to know.' The comms officer's tone implied finger quotes.

Admiral Fletcher digested that statement for a second.

It took a lot of balls or just outright stupidity to demand to speak to an Admiral. Especially in circumstances like the present. On the other, that only lent weight to the theory that whatever this soldier was trying to relay was important.

'Patch him through.' Admiral Fletcher ordered.

The face on the other end of the line was that of a spacer.
Few other humans had that bone-white complexion or unsettling violet eyes,-one a consequence of not being exposed to natural light for long periods of time and the other a mutation brought on by some random quirk of living on a space ship while pregnant as opposed to on a planet.

'Who is this?' Admiral Fletcher asked. 'I've currently got a dreadnought I'm trying to organise, you realise?'
'Corporal Ivan Crane, ma'am.' The spacer said, snapping a crisp salute. 'I'm sorry to bother you, but I'm currently keeping company with what passes as the local resistance down here. Hey,' Crane motioned for someone off screen and presently he was joined by a bewildered looking woman in what appeared to be a green coat cut in the Georgian fashion of the early 1800s.
'Who're you?' Admiral Fletcher asked. If she didn't need every soldier right now, she'd bust Crane out of the Alliance so fast he'd never know what hit him. As things stood, she didn't have much choice.

'Captain Jane Roland of His Majesty's Aerial Corps, on Excidium.' Captain Roland replied, motioning to her left. Crane obligingly directed his omni-tool in that direction and Admiral Fletcher found herself looking at a colossal creature, easily the size of a Harvester, with vivid orange eyes, which was currently looking down on proceedings with interest.

'Yes. He's sapient. Yes, he's pretty much the only reason anyone at this little stockade hasn't been killed by a Ravager or Brute. Yes, I'm calling for support anyway, owing to the fact there're Tinmen and Bugs in the area as well.' Crane said when no response was immediately forthcoming from the Admiral.
'Anything else?' Admiral Fletcher asked. 'Anything else you feel I should know?' She asked, resisting the urge to collapse into her seat.
'It's roughly 1805 and the closest thing to a reliable firearm on the planet right now is Excidium and his ilk. Or at least, the closest thing to matching a Mass Accelerator. There're flintlocks aplenty though.' Crane replied. 'Also, the rest of my squad is currently giving an advanced showing of The Alamo in Dover against Reaper forces. I'm not over-concerned about them,-they know what they're doing,-but wrapping that up quick is probably in the best interest of the civilians and the city infrastructure, such as it is.' He paused for a second, then shrugged. 'Ah what the hell; also, if at all possible, could you send some support my way as well, along with every weapon I've been issued? Or a few dozen standard issue equipment packs? Some effective weapons and some support would probably up the odds of survival of everyone currently at this military installation, and Captain Roland has implied that she's not the only one with a dragon in these parts.'
'Corporal.' Admiral Fletcher said in a firm tone of voice. 'Are you requesting support, or trying to order me around?'
'I'm requesting support, ma'am.' Corporal Crane responded without missing a beat. 'I'm also willing to foot the bill with requisitions on those SIE packs.' He added reasonably. 'The point I'm making a piss-poor job of making though is that the odds are rather squarely stacked in the Reaper's favour here. As in, more so than usual without involving the Squids themselves.'

The camera,-likely the Corporal's omni-tool panned to a field strewn with corpses of Reaper, Collector and Heretic Geth troops, then over the barricade and the pitifully under equipped men, women and children manning it.

Of course he had an ironclad argument before he even opened his mouth. Admiral Fletcher mused to herself, making a note to check the young man's file the next chance she got.

Reasoning like that was officer material.

'Alright. I'll send a fire team to reinforce. The ordnance as well. Scavenge what you can and hold that position, Corporal. Support will be there in half an hour, tops.' Admiral Fletcher relented, leafing through fire team bios until she found one that sounded about right to her. 'I'm dispatching Fireteam Charlie-Six now. Fletcher out.' So saying she killed the link, to find Abacus looking at her.

'What?' She asked.
'Several other Fireteams reported in while you were talking along with several crippled ships. A rudimentary satellite communication and surveillance network has been established.' The Geth reported.

'That all?' Admiral Fletcher asked.
'Affirmative, Fletcher-Admiral.' Abacus replied succinctly, before returning its unblinking gaze to its terminal.

Admiral Fletcher shook her head. One of these days, she'd get around to figuring the Geth out…Hopefully.


Excidium's Clearing. 1805

Crane closed his omni-tool, donned his helmet and cracked his knuckles. Time to go to work.

'Alright, looks like we've got to hold this place until the cavalry arrives.' He said.
'So what do you suggest?' Captain Roland asked him.
'Try and scavenge usable weapons out there for a start.' Crane replied, gesturing to the corpse-strewn clearing. 'Hopefully, we'll get lucky and some of the weapons will still be functional. If not,-' Crane pulled out one of his thermal clips, '-we'll be able to find some more of these, so at the least you'll have my pistol to work with.'

'You, you and you,' Roland said, pointing to three of her crewmen at random. 'Go with him and bring back any weapons that are still good and mind Excidium's acid.' She ordered. 'Everyone else keep watching we'll try and get to Mortiferus's and Crescendium's clearings. They're not too far and St. Germaine at least wouldn't be taken by surprise…' She trailed off, lips thin and slightly pale.

She was worried.

'Have you heard anything like-'

A gunshot from somewhere close by to the north of the clearing answered Crane's question.

'Never mind, someone's still alive.' He said.

With that, he set off with the other three designated scavengers, directing the group's efforts towards the Geth's weapons, pausing only to relieve a dead Collector Captain of it's Assault Rifle and a pair of Troopers of their SMGs.

One of the other scavengers, a young woman who Crane would've assumed was a schoolgirl of no more than fifteen on any other day, hefted a dented but very much intact rocket launcher from a Geth Rocket Trooper.

'Let me see that.' Crane said gesturing, handing off his own small collection of ordnance. He quickly located the power cell and a quick reading made him grin savagely:

The rocket launcher still had nearly sixteen charges and the dent was only cosmetic damage.

Better yet, EHCO had developed an overwrite program in conjunction with the other tech experts in the company and had devised a method to wipe the IFF finder systems on Geth weapons. The upshot of which meant was so long as they didn't damage Geth weapons on Heretic troops, they could turn their weapons against them.

Which was going to be a very good thing here.

'Got something else.' A young man a few years the girl's senior said, hefting a Geth Plasma Shotgun, along with a Pulse Rifle.

'Alright, let's get back to the barricade.' Crane said.

The small group complied and upon arriving back behind the wall, Crane quickly rattled off some basic information about each weapon, before demonstrating how to reload them and distributing the thermal clips the group had scavenged between the crewmen who'd just been equipped with the mass accelerators.

He took an extra moment to demonstrate to the aviators who'd received Collector SMGs how to vent heat from the weapons without burning themselves and make damn sure they knew how to maintain trigger-discipline with them.

A second run didn't yield much else beyond another couple of Pulse Rifles and more thermal clips.

'Okay, which way first?' Crane asked Roland.

Command of this little enterprise was evidently going to flip-flop all over the place.

'Crescendium's clearing first, that's where the gunshots have been coming from.' Roland replied. 'Excidium, if you would?' She asked and in response, the dragon began flailing and thrashing, trying to dislodge his harness.
'All lies well.' He said after a moment when he stopped.
'No ceremony.' Roland said and instantly the aviators were scrambling to their positions upon the dragon's back.

Before Crane could pass comment, Excidium's head snaked down and he picked Captain Roland up as if she were a kitten and deposited her on his shoulders.

'Are you coming aboard?' He asked Crane, looking down at him.
'I'm going to be running and gunning.' He replied. 'Don't even try and go airborne. If you've seen smaller dragons get shot down before now, you can bet your arse that you'll attract more of the same.' Crane advised. 'Now, let's go.'


Shanxi Province, 1805

'A fascinating tale.' The red dragon said, looking down at Lieutenant Hart with glittering eyes.
'I could go on all night; That was the condensed version.' Hart rejoined.

'That does not mean we believe you.' The white dragon stated.
'Let me guess: you want proof.' Hart said.
'It would go a long way to convincing me.' The white dragon said.

Before Hart could respond, Davis spoke up.

'Lieutenant, you better come look at this.' He called from his post by the main entrance to the pavilion, looking out over the village using the scope from his Valiant, an edge loud and clear in his voice.
'Give me the short version Gunny, I'm in the middle of a conversation here.' Hart replied.
'We've got Reapers inbound from the north, I estimate at about battalion strength.' Davis reported.

'Lieutenant, I've got Captain Reilly wanting a report.' Palenor suddenly spoke up from beside the shuttle. Weyrlok Krull was currently pacing like a caged predator in the background while Arthur and the crewmen from the Trafalgar worked to get the shuttle back in working order.

'Give the Captain the short version, Sergeant.' Hart replied, before addressing the two dragons. 'You want proof? You're about to get it.' He said, before standing and picking a M-98 Widow from a storage locker in the shuttle, before joining Davis and scoping in on the Reaper forces inbound.

'Yep, I'd say your assessment is correct, Gunny.' Hart said, lowering the anti-materiel rifle. 'Palenor, tell Captain Reilly to send who and whatever he can spare, we're about to be up to our eyes in Cannibals.' Hart stated calmly.


Dover, 1805.

The scenes of devastation in the streets below were rather distressing to Rankin's eyes:

Townsfolk and travellers alike lay dead in the street where they had fallen and more of the demons,-Reapers. He told himself firmly. These things were not supernatural. No matter what his hindbrain told him,-scurried along like ants.

Beside him, Tiras's rifle barked and one large creature with grotesquely swollen orange sacks fell to the side, quickly dissolving to a pool of some viscous-looking muck.

Their objective was still some way ahead, judging by the countdown of distance near the small blue diamond super-imposed over Rankin's left eye by the monocle.

Furthermore, all along the streets that they were flying over, it buildings looked as if they'd been damaged the gunfire and a few were even smouldering sullenly. Further into the town, several buildings were actively blazing.

All of a sudden, they came to a plaza and beheld a silver-and black clad woman flip off the end of an overturned carriage in a superb display of acrobatics, and while upside down in the air shoot a pair of the red devils Rankin had seen on the beach in the face with a weapon in each hand:
One holding a rifle similar to Crane's and the other being a weapon he hadn't encountered yet, but seemed to fire grapeshot, or at least work along the same lines.

The woman came out of her flip having stowed the rifle mid-air, shot a third red creature upon landing, then used some kind of smoking-hot wrist-mounted blade to sheer one of the human-like creatures in half from groin to nose, then promptly vanished in a flash of sparks.

The other combatant in the plaza came hurtling into Rankin's line of sight on a pillar of fire, before impacting a Brute that had just smashed aside the carriage the woman had used as a launch pad, causing it to stagger back. A pair of booming shots rang out, before this new combatant jetted backwards on another burst of fire, before firing a third shot at the Brute when he landed and switching to yet another of those strange rifles.

Tiras was lining up another shot beside Rankin when seemingly out of nowhere, a blur of blue appeared behind the combatant that had just tackled the Brute, before resolving into a hideously tall and thin creature resembling a woman in form, but twisted and horrid and crackling visibly with lambent power.

The apparition unceremoniously seized the stranger and hoisted him into the air single handed.

'Levitas! Get that tall creature at once!' Rankin bellowed.

Levitas didn't waste time with words, just swooped in and tackled the creature head-on, roaring savagely in a manner quite unlike his usually meek self.

Beside Rankin, Tiras cursed as her shot impacted the Brute's shoulder instead of its head.

The impact jarred the stranger loose and he immediately jetted away again.

Rankin yanked the pistol Crane had given him from his belt, stood in his straps, waited until Levitas brought down a strike on this she-devil's side, then lay a hand on her shoulder and unceremoniously jammed the pistol between her teeth and pumping the trigger for all he was worth, until after twelve shots, the thirteenth blew out the back of the she-devil's skull in a shower of bone, whereupon she instantly collapsed into a foetal curl and began decomposing to dust.

Rankin didn't even have time to process his actions before a trio of shots impacted him: One in the left leg, one in the left shoulder and the third through his right side. He collapsed instantly against Levitas's back gasping in pain, the blood pounding in his ears as the three bullet wounds erupted in red hot pain.

He heard Levitas's bellow as he fell against Levitas's backand weakly held on as he hurled himself at his Captain's shooter, tearing the offending Cannibal and its neighbours apart in a frenzy, before turning, rearing and striking the Brute that had just charged him from behind with enough force to topple it backwards, before pouncing atop it and tearing at it in the same savage frenzy, despite the deep gouges the Brute's pincer had torn in his upper forearm.

'Levitas!' Rankin called weakly. He could still here gunshots, but they were more sporadic now.

Shortly, Tiras reappeared, only to have Levitas snarl at her.

'Let me to him.' Tiras snapped, sidestepping as Levitas nipped at her, not mollified. 'You can either let me patch him up, or sulk while he bleeds out on your back. What's it going to be?' She asked sharply.

'Levitas, let her by. Any help is better than none.' Rankin croaked, striving for authoritarian and failing miserably.

Levitas reluctantly crouched down and Tiras deftly undid Rankin's straps, before hauling him to the ground and fiddling with her orange gauntlet.

Rankin's pain eased remarkably as he felt something cool and sticky adhere to his wounds.

'Don't move.' Tiras said sternly, as Rankin felt the strange substance begin to solidify.
'What did you do?' Levitas asked suspiciously.

Tiras stood, shouldered her rifle again and shot one of the spiky creatures that had just ambled out of the rubble through the head.

'Sound off!' Tiras called, followed seconds later by two answering calls of 'Clear!'

Only now did Tiras turn back to Levitas.
'I gave your friend a dose of medi-gel.' She explained. 'He's still probably going to require surgery, but he's probably not going to bleed out and die.'
'And this 'medi-gel' works how, exactly?' Rankin asked weakly.
'I'll explain later, for now, we've got a city to save.' Tiras replied. 'And by the way, nice work taking down that Banshee.' She added, before hauling Rankin back onto Levitas's back as the other two combatants approached.

At a glance, Rankin could tell the taller of the two wasn't human:

Impossibly narrow waist, back jointed legs, three fingered hands and he was too tall. Then he removed his helmet and whole host of other features became apparent:
A flat, almost reptilian face, a crest of spikes uncomfortably similar to those sported by some of the Reapers and his entire head appeared to be encased in bony plates.

The shorter of the pair appeared to be a human woman, although there was something decidedly wrong about her. The fact she appeared to be made of metal, the most obvious reason to Rankin's eyes.

'Glad you could make it Tiras.' The tall one said, his speech sounding English in Rankin's left ear, while in his right it was unintelligible. 'Who's your friend?'

Introductions were quickly made, Rankin learning that the tall one was the 'Mathuin' that Corporal Crane had referred to, while the metal woman was 'EHCO,' which turned out to be an acronym for 'Enhanced Heuristic Combat Operative,' which Rankin could only assume meant that she was trained to fight.

'Alright, Tiras, you can explain exactly why Crane isn't with you as we head for the outskirts, when we wound up here, that's where everyone was running for. The Reapers were already here.' Mathuin said.

'Pardon me, but what's the spiky one saying?' Levitas asked, confused.
'Mr Mathuin was just explaining our next course of action and what's been happening here.' Rankin replied.
'How can you understand him?' Levitas asked.

'I'll give you both the orientation as we go.' Tiras replied. 'Captain Rankin, I suggest you try not to move around to much and let one of us know if you start feeling pain again.' She added. 'Also Levitas, flying probably isn't a good idea right now. You'd be an easy target for any Ravagers in the area.'

'What's a Ravager?' Levitas and Rankin asked simultaneously as they started walking.

It was the metal-woman, EHCO who replied.
'Ravagers are harvested Rachni, fitted with high-calibre cannons and used as living artillery by Reaper forces…' EHCO recited as they started walking down the street, sticking to whatever passed as cover that they could find.

It was going to be a long walk.

Codex Entry: Dragons: General

One of two sapient species native to the planet Earth, dragons are the largest sapient species known and are divided into many different sub-species or 'breeds,' differentiated by size, mass colouration and in some instances attributes like the ability to breath fire or spit vitriolic acid.

The smallest known members of the species only grow up to half a tonne or so and are generally around the size of an adult Elcor. The largest members of this species however can grow to a whopping thirty tonnes with some exceptional individuals weighing up to fifty and attaining sizes of up to sixty metres in length.

Dragons are also almost exclusively predatory in nature, despite various, far-reaching and sweeping reform carried out in the aftermath of the Little Apocalypse and the Napoleonic War.

Due to this, dragons are regularly employed by the Alliance in many different capacities, from roles more regularly filled by armoured vehicles, to courier work, the latter a practice reaching back for over a thousand years.

I think I'll finish this chapter on that note.

I have ideas in mind for a fire team in the middle of the Tswana Empire and a largely Blood Pack force appearing in a Russian breeding ground, but both of those ideas have the same problem at present:

This chapter is a good size already.

I added in the Codex entry I included in the previous chapter that fire teams were appearing as far back as the 14th of June in-story time, so those two will probably show up around there.

Speaking of Codex entries, I'm not entirely satisfied with how this one came out.

Yes, it's short and concise like the ones in the game, but at the same time I don't think it does a very thorough job of informing the reader of some of the ins and outs of the Temeraire-verse's dragons.

Still, I'll probably have reason to address some other aspects of them in later Codices so it isn't that big a deal right now.

Now, on to thanking my reviewers for last chapter:

ADarkOne, GoogyNoober and Culebra del Sol.

Thanks for reviewing.

See you next time.