The Legend of Spyro: World Fury

by LauncesMechinist

Eighteen years have passed since the events of Metal Storm. The Southlands, now known to the humans as Avalon, have come into a world that none knew even existed. While everyone enjoys the hard won peace, a dark shadow of an all but forgotten enemy begins to resurface. For the children of James, Lysa, Spyro, Cynder, Ignitus, and Thera, a war none have foreseen now looms over them.

8. A Merciful Pause

Alright everyone! I'm back with yet another rivetting installation of World Fury. I'll tell you, ideas have the strangest trigger events you know? Here I was sitting in my room listening to some old music when I came across an old horror song that sent chills down my spine and it occurred to me.

I haven't even introduced the main antagonist, Mechanos, have I? Well, not to worry, I have now remedied that situation. Now then...(click)

(Beeping noise)...If you would like to make a call, please hang up or try again.

I hate dial up...

DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT OWN ANYTHING OR ANYONE IN THE SPYRO UNIVERSE. ONLY MY OCS.

Chapter 7: A Merciful Pause

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(Rotiart Principality, near city of Revant)

Dieter found himself gritting his teeth as the brakes on the train screeched to a halt. He couldn't avoid the astonished stares from the common populace nor could he avoid their equal astonishment that Mechanos' moving fortress, Harbinger, was what had been dispatched to collect him. Gazing at the train's odd shape, he began to feel somewhat fearful and sick looking the train over and wondered how any living being could build this monstrocity.

The Harbinger was a cruel and cold machine. As if mocking the world and perhaps heaven above, Mechanos had modelled the engine, tender, and his personal office to resemble a moving cathedral, the rest of the train was car after car designed for workspace, labs, showrooms, and included a (rarely used and therefore decrepit looking) passenger/sleeper car. It also had several military railcars that housed anti-air guns, cannons, and tanks. All of which were, of course, manned and ready to repel any and all threats.

The looks of the machine were only the tip of the iceberg though. Mechanos had designed this train to scare the living daylights out of anyone who beheld it. All the glass in on the train was stained glass the color of roses (or blood) depending on what angle you viewed them at and plus they were one-way windows. You could see out but not in.

It was into the first car behind the 'office' that Dieter was brought into by Mechanos' aide. Stepping aboard felt close enough to stepping through the gates of Hell for some odd reason. Perhaps it was the temperature inside or perhaps that the Revant train station was built in what many believed was the most snow-covered and coldest part of the track. Either way, he began to sweat as soon as he stepped into the car.

Once inside, the doors slid shut and he was directed to a seat in the 'main lobby'. Looking to the door to the office, he noticed the two dread griffons Mechanos kept as 'pets'. One was named Balor, the other Lucian, and both regarded him with an expression of mixed distrust, awareness, curiousity, and worst of all, hunger. It was no secret that dread griffons, again, unlike their gentler cousins, would consume anything if they could get it within claw or beak distance. Adding to their behavior was their colors. While normal griffons bore gold fur and white feathers, dread griffons bore black fur, black feathers that had red tips, and worst of all were the smoldering red eyes that made them appear drunk but in fact were as keen as a dragon's. Dieter truly believed that if the chains holding the two creatures ever gave way while he was here, there wouldn't be enough of him left to bury.

He had just sat down when the train whistle sounded. It was a sound that made the normally cool and calm pilot's blood run cold. In a flair of 'creativity', Mechanos had affixed six steam whistles to the train and when the cord was pulled, all six whistles went off sounding very much like an out-of-tune chorus of the damned. He felt a shudder as the train began moving and he saw the train slide out of the station as if there was absolutely nothing wrong. Then again Mechanos was a lot of things but never a fool, he had spared no expense in designing a state of the art suspension system for the train ensuring that no matter what the grade of track or terrain, the train would keep running smoothly.

With the train underway, he took a moment to review the report he had typed up regarding the Syllian planes, paying special attention to the modified planes of Bertram de Launces' 242 Squadron as well as the copy of the After-Action Report that, undoubtably, Mechanos would raise a few questions about. He felt the train shift as it went into a turn and gazed out of the red stained glass window that all but dominated the room. In the distance he could see the snow covered peaks of the seven Angelus Mountains encircling the one volcano in the center.

The volcano, known to all Rotiart as 'the Demon Gate', was a prominent shape in the distance. It was always smoking yet only erupted once every ten years. In fact it was actually considered an ill omen for the volcano to quit smoking. The twin cities of Certon and Notrec always stood at the foot of the largest of the Angelus Mountains known as Angel's Peak and thus were always out of the way whenever the volcano erupted. He recognized the track they were on now by seeing the north side of Angel's Peak.

They were on the stretch of railway only Mechanos himself traveled as it was a fast travel to any of his factory 'cities' or to his headquarters in Saro, or to the ferry that took him to his factory/fortress at the mysterious Black Sand Island. On this railway, the engineers could push the Harbinger as fast as they (or Mechanos) wanted with no fear of any consequences.

The grandfather clock, ironically a Launces 1915 Royal Masterwork, chimed four times as the train rolled along and Dieter settled himself as much as he would allow himself to and awaited the appointed time Mechanos chose to permit him entry.

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(meanwhile, in Warfang)

Spyro awoke to the sound of Cynder's breathing beside him. He looked over to her and sighed happily. He began to recall details about the battle: the Praetorian force detecting the Damoneni force, the fighters engaging over the city, Ignitus and his wing engaging the landing craft. They had survived, all of them, thanks to Thera who apparently, had the same power as her father.

At the last moment, Thera had awakened her power and used a spirit gem to summon not only her own power, but also summon phantoms of Malefor and Retemed who helped Ignitus sink the Damoneni flagship and force the enemy to retreat. The phantoms then carried Thera back to city and laid her gently on the street near her home. Ignitus had been frantic until Malefor (for it was indeed him), chuckled and told him she had just expended most of her energy and needed rest. He had then faced Spyro and nodded.

"Just because I no longer exist on this plane, doesn't mean I do not have an interest in it. I have a thousand years of ignorance and foolish pride to undo, and a thousand years of absense from my descendants I wish to rectify. James can summon the power of elemental crystals but Thera's power is much more potent as you have seen. When she awakes, she must rest for some time to regain her strength. Unlike her father, she cannot use this power at will. It can only be unleashed in times of urgency. Be forewarned though, those who commune with the spirits often tend to leave more and more of themselves in the spirit realm than they intend. My time grows short...Ignitus...take care of my granddaughter...she truly is a pure spirit."

With that Malefor had vanished and Ignitus had taken Thera home and refused to leave her side until she awoke. As he lay alongside his mate, he began hearing the sounds outside in Warfang and looked to the window beside their bed and saw it had started raining. No doubt the water dragons who lived in the city trying to put out what few fires remained. Or, ancestors know, it could just be a natural occurence like the tide, or the wind, or the rising and falling of the sun. Not everything in the world was controlled by dragons.

His thoughts were interrupted when he felt Cynder shift beside him and open her eyes and yawned. Even to this day, seeing her like this, her tail wrapped around his, their wings partially out stretched to cover one another, her eyes glowing in the pre-dawn hours still made his heart race and his blood run hot. He smiled and nuzzled her gently as she awoke and returned the affection. She then looked outside and nearly made him laugh as she pouted. Cynder, truth be told, had never much liked the rain. She finally smiled, seeing she had gotten a laugh from him and got up out of the bed.

"So Spyro, what are we going to do first today?" Spyro had already planned to go check up on Thera and Ignitus but then got an idea.

"Oh, I don't know Cyn. I was thinking maybe we could lay around a bit more or perhaps go around the city and see what help we can offer." Cynder gave a mock look of shock and gazed at him.

"What about Thera and Ignitus? As well as the other kids? You aren't the least bit concerned about them?"

"Hmm...Maybe a little. I suppose we should check up on them first though before we do anything else, right?" Cynder smiled at him for a moment and then became serious.

"Do you think they'll be alright? I mean, the battle was only yesterday and so many of the defenders were injured." Spyro nodded and then looked out the window and gazed at the hospital where a number of dragons, humans, cheetahs, moles, wolves, and atlawa were being treated for injuries. His gaze then went towards the half-collapsed castle and the damaged temple.

At some point during the battle, a Praetorian pilot spotted a strange bomber flying over the city and had shot it down. The aircraft had then changed its course and crashed into the castle, destroying a tower and flattening the queen's garden. The bomber had markings that identified it as a Rotiart aircraft but other than that it seemed a complete enigma. One of the Praetorian officers had been trying to communicate via radio with their command but was apparently having no luck with the device. Eventually Spyro sighed and decided to leave the mystery aircaft to the Praetorians and followed Cynder out of their home and into the rain as they walked toward Ignitus and Thera's home.

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Ever since the humans began trading with Avalon, they had also began helping in various other ways. First, James had insisted that Avalon be treated as an independant nation and that any trade requests go through the Avalon monarchy as with any other nation. Furthermore, given the events that had been happening, it had been felt that Avalon at least have access to modern medicine. To that end, Doctor Franklin Stein, the surgeon who had saved so many lives in the Southlands Conflict, became an instructor of modern medicine at the Academy and had begun taking on promising students.

It was one of Stein's best students who greeted Spyro and Cynder as they came into Ignitus and Thera's home. The doctor was a wolf, standing about five foot eight by human standards, had black fur that shaded to grey on his paws and muzzle, and most peculiar of all, he bore a prosthesis on his left arm. Cynder recognized the wolf and nodded to him.

"Growlie, how is she? Is Thera alright?"

Garm, or Growlie as he preferred, a young wolf who been injured in the Southlands Conflict when Dalon besieged Warfang, nodded his head as he finished getting his equipment put away before visiting his next patient.

"She's doing fine Lady Cynder. She's awake, she's talking, and above all else, she's absolutely starving. I told Ignitus to keep her in bed and to tell the staff to give her as much as she wanted to recover her energy. It wasn't mana she expended in the battle but pure, raw, physical energy and that can only be recovered with bedrest and a few healthy and hearty meals. Now then, please tell Ignitus I'll be back to check on her this afternoon. Right now I've got to see a patient about a pain in his hindquarters. Good day."

With that, Growlie left the home and walked down the street whistling a tune he'd heard humans whistle on occasion. Spyro and Cynder went into Thera and Ignitus' bedroom and found Thera resting on the bed with her children with Ignitus passed out nearby. Poor Ignitus looked as if he hadn't slept since the day before yesterday (which truth be told he hadn't), and Thera looked just as exhausted. She was panting, her tongue was out, and her scales were actually wet to the touch from perspiration. Still, when Spyro and Cynder entered, she nudged at her kids who were asleep around her. Ignitus let out a particularly loud snore that made Thera giggle.

"The kids had the worst of it. Every instinct was telling them to either fight or flee and yet they could do neither. I'm still unsure of how okay Ignitus is to tell the truth. He moves and groans like someone wounded yet when I ask him, he denies everything. I swear sometimes I feel like I'm raising four little ones and one big baby." Cynder laughed at this and nodded.

"Indeed. I suppose that human phrase 'like father, like son' also translates to dragons as well. You won't hear a peep from Spyro under normal circumstances but get him alone and you'd think every joint from snout to tailblade aches." Thera joined Cynder in laughing while Spyro huffed indignantly and looked away, a slight reddish tint to his face though.

"I-I don't complain about aches all the time. I mean come on I'm not even a quarter of Terrador or any other Guardian's age at the moment. There's still some life in this body of mine." He stretched his wings and popped a few joints for effect but then went wide-eyed and collapsed on the floor.

"Ouch...well...I should have expected that." Cynder, changing from amusement to worry then to frustration in the blink of an eye, sighed.

"You should have known better. Yesterday was the first time in years you've had to do any amount of combat flying as well as exhausting your mana not once or twice but three times. Even if you managed to save the docks from an incoming assault by helping Cyril create icebergs in the ocean, and helped Volteer create a lightning storm, and helped Pyre conjure that firestorm that incinerated five flights of enemy bombers." Spyro looked up at his mate and sighed.

"You're forgetting calming the seas outside the harbor so the Praetorian subs could get a clean shot, creating a whirlwind that sank that battleship, using light to blind the enemy landing craft so that they ran aground on the shoals that Terrador and the other earth dragons created, creating a fog bank to hide an Espan ship that had been damaged, and lastly used convexity to destroy the enemy carrier group that was reinforcing them." Cynder nodded and placed a paw over his and smiled.

"There's that as well. In all honesty, it's all thanks to Ignitus, Thera, and you that we suffered so few casualties." Spyro smiled and nodded.

"Indeed. Thera? Do you remember anything at all about what happened?" THera looked down for a moment and nodded.

"I remember bits and pieces of it. I remember seeing poor Granite shot down and wishing I could do more to help. I just happened to reach for the spirit crystal dad gave me if I ever wanted to talk to him and then, nothing. The next thing I remember is waking up on the street with Malefor and Retemed beside me and speaking to Ignitus and you." Thera heard a light murmur and turned to see Ignitus stirring, one eye awake, the other closed.

"Yeah, what family did I marry? Your family always has some strange ability that rocks the foundations of dragonkind. First it was James who awakened his dragon blood, shapeshifted, and used crystals to destroy Dalon's forces and cleanse Malefor of corruption. Of course our kids also have that same ability, though they rarely, if ever, use it. Now you have the ability to summon the spirits of your ancestors, manifest them in physical, albeit temporary, bodies and fight alongside them with the same combat style as your father. Not that that's a bad thing. In my opinion things need to be stirred up every once in a while to keep life interesting; it's just that you and James are so...so, flashy when you do it. While you were asleep I had to do everything except bar the door to keep Elder Volteer from asking so many questions and also a member of the council who screams 'bloody murder' every time a pin drops and pops the bubble of idleness." Thera looked at her mate in shock.

"You kept Elder Volteer and a member of the King's council from disturbing me? I thought you were crazy Iggy, but now I can see you're nuts." Ignitus smirked and looked at her, eyes aglow with humor.

"I thank you."

At that moment, Willard, the human butler whom Thera had hired came in. A short, squat man with thinning hair, hazel eyes, and a voice that sounded rough, he had been a friend of Bertram Ross, the former stewart of the Launces household and had evidently trained alongside him in manners, etiquete, and various other things. He held a piece of paper in his hand and nodded to Spyro and Cynder.

"Excuse me milady, a telegram for you from your father. Would you like me to read it for you ma'am?" Thera thought about shifting but evidently her body was still too exhausted and she eased herself back down onto the bed.

"Please give me the details."

Willard nodded and read the message, a short list of hello's, how are you's, how are the children, and also an update that her younger brother, Nick, was now out of the hospital and recovering in Launces with Lysa. Turns out Nick had become quite smitten with a nurse who had become just as infatuated with him.

Joshua was busy helping escort the damaged vessels back to Sanijo for repairs before he was expected back to assist the fleet in pushing further into occupied territory, and Bertram was currently helping some new transfers from Syllia acclimate to Tellanian weather. One last bit hinted that Syllian forces would soon be arriving there to assist the Praetorian and Avalon forces.

Willard finished reading the message and looked to Thera.

"There are a few more lines but that is of a more private nature and thus will not read it aloud. Anyway, judging by the stamp on the telegram those Syllian forces if they left the day it was written should be here by this afternoon as the crow flies, or in this case, dragon. Before I return to my other duties milady is there anything else I can do for you or your guests?" Thera looked to Spyro and Cynder and nodded.

"Are either of you hungry? Thirsty?" Spyro was about to decline when his stomach growled, making him blush slightly which in turn made Thera, Ignitus, and Cynder laugh. Willard grinned and nodded.

"I shall bring some refreshments." Thera nodded and turned back to Spyro.

"Before I forget, how are the Guardians? Poor Pyre looked half ready to collapse from exhaustion when I saw him after the battle. Even Terrador looked tired." Spyro nodded.

"Indeed. From what I heard, Terrador tried to leave the Temple this morning to aid in the repair work but his strength nearly gave way. He, Cyril, and Volteer are beginning to talk about finding replacements for their positions. Pyre is the youngest of the Guardians and as such wasn't too worn out but he still didn't rise until late in the day." Thera nodded and then chuckled lightly thinking back to when Pyre was still a member of the Dracocorps.

"I can only imagine what Shimmer would say if he heard that Pyre slept in today." At that moment, a knock on the door came and when Willard opened it, in came a dragon with luminescent silver scales, silver horns and claws, and bright vibrant gold eyes. Thera, Spyro, Cynder, and Ignitus stared in shock as Shimmer smiled and tilted his head to one side.

"I felt my ear frills burning as I landed outside. Does that mean someone here's been talking about me?"

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(elsewhere, in the Blue Islands)

Joshua stared as the tug boats worked to dislodge a beached battleship, RNV Regal, from the shoals of the nearby sand bar where she'd been run aground to prevent her sinking. Her crew had worked all afternoon and through the night to keep her afloat and early this morning they finally managed to seal the flooded compartment and her captain declared her seaworthy enough to return to port for repairs.

It hadn't been easy in the early hours of the attack. Thanks to the messages captured from the Callinar submarine, C-22, and that his father had managed to decript and transmit, the Task Force knew of the enemy ambush well before they were in range. In response, the Admiral of the fleet had ordered the destroyers and cruisers to form a charging line and sail through the enemy formation at full speed, firing as they went.

The maneuver had caught the enemy fleet with their pants down. Clearly they had expected a slow moving cluster of ships instead of a lightning quick formation of destroyers, light cruisers, and regular cruisers. That still didn't stop one of the enemy battleships from opening fire and sinking the light cruiser Dare.

Joshua thought back on the fight and wondered for the hundredth or perhaps thousandth time how the hell his ship got through that barrage with nothing more than a grazing shell through the port anchor brace. The destroyer escorts Tribal and Garr were on either side of the Interceptor when they came under fire. First a cruiser broadside ripped the Tribal in half, and then a torpedo blew the nose off the Garr. Josh had steered his ship in between an enemy cruiser and a carrier and all five of the Interceptor's 5.5 inch guns opened fire on the bridges while they fired torpedoes.

The cruiser had exploded and sank in a mere six minutes while the carrier, listing heavily and unable to launch aircraft, beat a hasty retreat, an enemy destroyer laying down a thick blanket of smoke to cover it. It was at that time Josh heard the Crucible radio for assistance and Josh ordered the Interceptor and two more destroyers in his group to make a bee-line for the crippled cruiser.

The Crucible was now docked in the port of Awa being repaired for the operation ahead. For the moment, all was calm and serene. Josh had learned from his father and mother both to savor each moment of peace you could get. Once the reinforcement fleet arrived, there would be no more peaceful moments like this for a while. He heard boots crunching the sand and turned to see his XO, Walker, approaching him. He stared at the sunset over the island and ocean and smiled.

"Now there's a beautiful sight isn't it sir?" Josh chuckled and gazed out to sea and noted the beauty of it.

"Indeed. I find myself yearning for a blank canvas and my oil paints and the time to properly use them." This got Walker's attention as well as a few nearby enlisted men and women who approached him. One of them, a newly promoted Petty Officer, spoke.

"You paint sir?" Josh nodded and gazed back at the sunset.

"When I was younger, my mother insisted that if I decided to follow in Father's footsteps and join the Royal Military, I would learn at least a little bit of cultures from around the world. I would spend hours gazing at various examples of art from around the world and I quickly found myself to be an expert judge of shading, paint, and color and took up painting in my spare time. My younger brother Bertram is also a painter but just not on the same level that I am and as for Nick, well, let's just say that for some people it is a crime against humanity for them to hold a brush."

This got several members of the crew laughing. Their laughter somewhat, revived Josh. It was a good sound to hear.

"I am the painter of the family, Bertram is the poet, and Nick is the musician and we are content to stick to our own expertise. If we weren't at war I would easily content myself to sit here on the beach and take my time with every brush stroke; slowly covering the canvas until I had captured the beautiful scene before me."

Another sailor, this one an apprentice spoke up.

"Have you ever...sold any of your paintings?" Josh laughed at that and shook his head.

"I've tried, believe me. Some people have also come seeking my art for museums and auctions, and private galleries and have offered vast sums for even my incomplete pieces and even a few pieces I deemed not up to my standards. My mother however, hoards them all jealously, not daring to part with even the worst of my art. She's the same with Bertram's poems and Nick's compositions no matter if they are complete or not, if they are good or not. I don't know why my art is so stirring. I suppose it's because though I may appear human, I am in fact a dragon and my eyes tend to allow me to see things regular humans can't. Take the sunset for instance; where one might see varying shades of red, orange, and black, I see ripples of blue, green, yellow, even pink all twisting and writhing around each other and seeming to radiate from the light of the sun. Each place it seems unique."

Josh grabbed a nearby stick and began to draw in the sand. Walker and the enlisted drew closer to see what he was doing.

"For example, the sunset in Launces is red, overlayed with blue, green, and a broad splash of gold yet here, the sunset is calm, soothing, much like the ripples of the ocean against the shoals. Father always said: 'A painter is just like any other man, except they see things of beauty in places no one else will look. It is up to the painter to give voice to that beauty so that others may see through the artist's eyes."

As he spoke, he drew in the sand. When he finished, there were two different sunsets drawn in the sand. The first held the sun and broad arcs that got larger and more indistinct as they radiated outward. The second had a single arc but within the arc was wave upon wave of lines that seemingly enveloped the arc and made it seem somewhat otherworldly. When Josh finished, heset the stick aside and gazed upon his work and smiled.

"Now you can see what I see. A pity though this will be gone when the tide comes back in." Walker shook his head and motioned the the people clustered around Josh. He honestly had been so engrossed in the drawing that he hadn't noticed the crowd forming. He looked to his XO who in turn smiled.

"It may vanish with the tide sir, but for these men and women here today, they will continue to remember your words and this drawing for as long as they live. You have given them something worth remembering." Josh smiled and nodded as he looked back at the sunset.

"Thank you for that Charles. I honestly never had people admire my work before. I suppose when we get home, I'll have to convince Mother to part with some of my work so that I can donate it to a museum somewhere. Tell you what, I think I can get some canvas and paints here in Awa, or wire Mother to send mine and once I have the time, I will paint a series of paintings of the ship and the crew. A portrait of the officers, NCOs, Enlisted, and Marines seperately, and one large one of all of us together in front of the ship. Yes...I can honestly see it now. How does that sound to all of you?"

The crew let out a cheer at that. Every man and woman among them beaming brightly at the announcement.

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(Somewhere in Eastern Syllia, a Top Secret facility known as Workshop Zero)

The sound of machinery moving about and tools working was almost deafening to James as he quickly inspected and finalized the last of the prototype blueprints. Nearby, his former students Albert and Xavier Reed were also going over various blueprints they had drawn up while here in Syllia. Meanwhile Prince Roberto was busy finishing going over the latest intelligence reports from Tellanos and the Blue Isles as well as the new reports from Avalon.

Workshop Zero was the predecessor to Workshop One in Launces and the newly completed Workshop Two in Peninsula City. Zero was located in a secluded area of Syllia's eastern shore and was by far the largest of the structures. On the ground it looked like a simple one floor warehouse with a medium sized airfield nearby and a somewhat over-sized garrison of Army soldiers, Marines, Dragoons, and even a wing of dragons from the Dracocorps, but past a series of doors each made of two foot thick reinforced steel was a lift that decsended into the bowels of the earth. It was as much a bunker as it was a top secret factory. In the sections further inland and closer to the surface there were conveyor belts and hundreds of workers putting firearms, tanks, and aircraft together.

These materials were sent up by a large freight elevator to the top floor where the firearms were loaded onto transport planes and flown to their destination. The heavier tanks were chained and strapped to armored trains and sent to the Armored Corps Deployment Center for crew assignment, unit assignment, decal and number painting. The aircraft were brought to the airfield and flown by pilots to nearby airfields and then returned aboard transports that were constantly coming and going.

The other half of the factory facing the sea was actually an underground dry dock where ships of various classes and sizes were being built and fitted for service by thousands upon thousands of people working round the clock in shifts. Once the hull and superstructure was built, the ship was launched and towed to the exterior port where furnishings, painting, and armament was fitted and installed. At the moment, the port held three battleships, six cruisers, ten destroyers, nine submarines, two dragon-carriers, three fleet carriers, two escort carriers, and three extremely large ships the crews had taken to calling 'Supercarriers'. There was also one ship in port that looked to be a cross between a battleship and an aircraft carrier.

These 'Supercarriers' were in fact the prototype Leviathan-class carriers James had been working on. The other hybrid ship was a design known as a 'Battlecarrier'. Up until now the battlecarrier had been on the back-burner for some time. Like the Leviathan carriers, James had begun in 1930 but the hybrid ship known simply as 'BC30' fell out of favor for a ship that could travel extremely fast, could launch a vast amount of aircraft, and was large enough and well armored that a battleship would have a tough time sinking it. By comparison, the BC30 was almost a joke.

It had begun as a Royal-class battleship but James had had an idea. Sacrificing the stern guns and modifying the aft bridge to a hangar, it was now conceivable for a battleship to carry its own wing of aircraft. For the sake of having some stern weapons, James had dredged up the old sponson design and implemented them on the ship below the flight deck and fitted them for 6 inch guns. He was confident he knew what he was doing.

Since 1916, Syllia and various other nations had tried to come up with a hybrid design and failed. Most dismally was the BC1920 and BC1924 classes which were flawed to the extent that no sane pilot would try taking off, much less landing, on a partial deck half as long as a carrier deck. The following design, BC1927, fared better but was scrapped after a pilot crashed onto the deck and was killed. That hadn't been the half of it as the plane had crashed on top of one of the lifts which in turn had caused the hydraulics to fail and drop a burning plane into a hangar filled with aviation fuel, ammunition, and explosives. It does not need be said what happened next. BC1927 was now an artificial reef off the western coast near Peninsula City.

James glanced again at the blueprints for the new fighter he had designed. In sticking to his usual style, the blueprint didn't have a name, but rather a number: 'XF2M-(262)'. Another blueprint was nearby and like the previous one was an experimental fighter he couldn't complete because he didn't have the right engine design. With the Reed brothers here, the XI5M-(155) could yet become a possibility. Still, there was a lot of work to be done before either prototype was ready to fly. He placed the blueprints into the folder and rose from his chair and stepped out of the 'blue room' as it was known, and gazed at the half-built battleship hull currently in progress.

As he gazed at the hull, Xavier came up beside him. He had produced a pipe, and had begun smoking merrily away like a steamboat. James chuckled at this and looked back at the ship.

"You know that stuff's bad for your lungs right?" Xavier exhaled a cloud of smoke, turned to rest his back on the rail, and removed the pipe.

"So you say Mentor. Yet, I believe the war will kill me long before I begin suffering from Lung Rot or whatever that damnable disease is called. In war, we take what small pleasures we can get. For Albert, he enjoys a nice glass of whiskey, bourbon, or vodka, especially vodka, to ease the tension of the day. Me? I prefer to smoke like a locomotive. I'm sure even you have your vices. I know Prince Roberto sure as hell does. You and I both know he enjoys the company of that woman in area three of the factory, you know of whom I speak."

James did know and had even warned Roberto against it seeing that the woman in question was the daughter of Major-General Nathaniel Sharps, the spymaster of the Syllian Royal Intelligence Corps. He shuddered to think what Sharps would do if he ever learned that a prince from another nation was making 'goo-goo eyes' at his only daughter. For the moment, Roberto was in the clear as Sharps had been rumored to be deployed in Rotiart trying to gather intel about the mysterious fortress known as Black Sand Island. At that moment, the woman, Nicolette Sharps, came forward with a message in hand.

"Lord de Launces. I have a message for you from my father routed through the SRIC." James nodded and took the letter and opened it; inside was written one solitary word: Whirlwind.

Xavier looked at the missive and shrugged, clearly stumped.

"Any idea what it means?" James shook his head for a moment but then had an idea.

"A few years back I was experimenting with a new prototype naval engine. This engine was designed to be fitted to ships bigger than the cruiser class and meant to serve as fast attack vessels. I say fast attack because the engine would have allowed ships to sail in excess of sixty to seventy knots." Xavier went wide-eyed at this.

"Are you serious? Why the hell didn't you implement it sooner?...Sorry Mentor, it's just that, if a battleship can cruise the waves at sixty knots, you could move a fleet into position much faster than the enemy will ever expect. And if you come under fire, simply engage the engine and zing you're off and the enemy haven't a chance in hell of catching you." James nodded.

"That was the original idea but as testing progressed, I discovered a flaw in the design. The engine, it creates great speed but also creates tremendous friction and heat. Not even crystal generators could sustain it and the few prototypes I built were destroyed when they caught fire by themselves. They also proved to be too big to mount properly on any ship smaller than a battlecruiser. If I did mount them if they proved successful, I would have had to redesign the entire Syllian Navy or at least whatever vessels the Admiralty wanted to refit with the engines. I shelved the blueprints in the old Archives in the warehouse at Gyladon which burnt down a few months later, destroying all the blueprints and prototypes inside." Xavier raised an eyebrow, his still smoking pipe all but forgotten and abandoned in his hand.

"Why would he send a message containing that word then if all the files on it were destroyed? Unless..." James nodded.

"Unless the fire wasn't accidental as believed but actually arson to cover their tracks which means the Archives are now in Mechanos' hands meaning he had rebuilt the Whirlwind project, for whatever good that will do him." Xavier looked at his mentor, his face grave.

"What if he made it work?" James sighed and looked back at the ship in progress.

"Then I'd best come up with a solution fast while there's still time." Xavier nodded and swung his hands away to swat at a bee flying around him, the pipe that had been in his left hand went flying through the air and struck a welder on the helmet down below. Xavier glanced down at where the pipe went and shrugged.

"Oh well, I needed to quit anyway right? Can't be hacking up a lung while there's a war on, eh? Hey Al! Pour me a glass of that vintage bourbon you're so fond of, I just quit smoking."

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(Back in Rotiart, fifteen miles from final destination)

Dieter awoke with a start as the large clock chimed away. Looking out the window, he realized that night had fallen and he still hadn't been called in. He got up, preparing to throw caution to the wind and advance past the two dread griffons when the door opened and out came a tall, heavily muscled man who stepped between the two griffons.

"Lord Mechanos will see you now, Lieutenant. Oh, and before I forget, congratulations."

Dieter was puzzled by this and entered the room that served as Mechanos' office. It was much plainer than he had thought, a simple wood desk, a high-backed chair, a few paintings here and there, a blueprint or two tossed about on a table nearby. Best of all though, no dread griffons. Dieter approached the seat nearby and sat. The high-backed chair swiveled around to reveal Lord Otto Mechanos himself.

Mechanos was not an old man by any means. Although he had seen many years obviously, he was still spry looking and possessed a full head of white-silver hair and a moustache and beard that made him look like some grandfatherly wizard from an old child's story than a master mechanist. In stark contrast to his hair, he wore a black suit and cape that covered his body and also held a gold monocle in his left eye. His eyes were of a deep, deep, majestic green color and gave off the feel that no matter who you were, Mechanos could see you, see through you; he could see your intentions, he could possibly even see into your very soul.

Mechanos gently waved and the man who had ushered Dieter in sat a pot of hot tea on the table in a special nook that prevented it from tipping over onto important papers and also set out two white pewter saucers and two teacups into likewise indentations. The man looked to Mechanos who held up three fingers and the man put three small sugar cubes into the cup and poured the tea after them. He then looked to Dieter who held up two fingers and had the corresponding number of cubes and tea put into his cup. After taking a small sip out of his cup and setting it back down, Mechanos looked to Dieter and opened the folder that held (as Dieter had expected), the after-action report of the 215 Squadron's engagement of the Syllian 242 Squadron.

"Lieutenant Dieter Muntz. I must say that once again you have surpassed my expectations. Not only did you do the right thing in preventing more meaningless losses, you also got a good feel for the Syllian planes. I had anticipated they would have modified their planes to better pierce the armor of the planes but that it happened so soon is intriguing." Dieter nodded.

"To be honest sir, when I pulled one of the rounds out of my plane wing and had it examined, I discovered Rotiart hallmarks as well as metal composition. I suspect that, at some previous point, the 242 Squadron downed a number of our heavy fighters, stripped the cannons from the wreckage and fixed them to their own planes." Mechanos nodded.

"I am inclined to agree with you Lieutenant. So, if you were me, how would you rectify the situation?" Dieter knew his answer and nodded.

"First off sir, the planes need a stronger armament. It takes roughly seven to eight seconds for a plane with an all machinegun armament and an expert pilot to down an enemy fighter, twice that for a bomber. A mixed cannon/machinegun armament takes five seconds, again doubled for bombers. I propose an all cannon primary armament, perhaps four, and two machineguns as backups should the cannons malfunction or become empty. To compensate for the weight of the added armament, a more powerful engine is needed as well. I believe if our planes can get a minimum of fifty miles per hour faster, we will reestablish complete air dominance over the Tellanian theatre of operations. In the clouds going gun to gun with an enemy pilot, who when you strafe one another so closely you can see their faces through the cockpit, speed is life. The faster you are, the quicker you can down an enemy and proceed to the next enemy. It all comes down to making the war in the sky too bloody and costly for the enemy to continue. If we succeed in doing that, the enemy may well decide to sue for peace if not outright surrender."

Mechanos smiled and sipped at his tea for a moment, then nodded.

"I agree with you wholeheartedly Lieutenant, or should I say Captain? Don't look so surprised, a man of your talents? It's only natural you would rise through the ranks like you have. Not to mention you are our leading ace with the most kills of any of our pilots. You are an idol to your fellows and a hero to your countrymen. The propaganda ministry has been plastering posters of you all over the nation trying to drum up recruitment for the military, especially the Air Force. Now then, onto more pressing buisness...what was he like? Bertram de Launces? Can he fly as well as his mentor, the Blue Baron? Does he possess his father's ingenuity, his tenacity, or his quick mind? Does he pose a significant threat?"

Dieter set his cup down and gazed at Mechanos.

"The boy is brash, almost bordering on foolishness. Yet he has remarkable potential. With a little more training perhaps he could become a rival worthy of my undivided attention. He lacks the certain...push needed to advance his training and his abilities. Would I enjoy going against him again? Yes, as a matter of fact I would relish the opportunity; but I would take no pleasure from shooting him down if he were not ready to come at me with every fiber, every ounce, every iota of skill and training he possesses. He sees himself and his squadron as 'invincible', you can tell it in the way he flies, pushing his plane well past its limits in which the frame would be in danger of breaking under the strain. His squadron, in particular note the foreigners, have more composure, are more...wary of their own mortal limitation. Bertram is like any teenager or young adult in the world. He thinks he is ten foot tall, bulletproof, and can drink any man under the table. He is...immature, and needs to be taught a harsh lesson about the realities of war." Mechanos smiled and pressed a button on his desk.

"Then I believe this man will make an excellent addition to your squad. Captain Dieter Muntz, allow me to introduce Sergeant Alfred Marks, one of the top five killers in the Air Force, but...you may know him by another name." Dieter nodded as the man stood before him and saluted Dieter sharply.

"Indeed I do sir...the Son of Death. The Grim Reaper."

At that moment, the door opened and a large hulking figure came into the office. Dieter halfway drew his sidearm when Mechanos waved him off.

"Sorry to startle you Captain but I can't have you shooting one of my best associates. Captain Dieter Muntz, Sergeant Alfred marks, allow me to introduce you to Sir. Mister Sir." Dieter looked at Mechanos oddly at the name.

"Sir?" Mechanos nodded.

"For reasons of my own, I cannot and will not divulge his true name. It would be...problematic to say the least. Anyway, I have your report, you have your new squadron member and your reward for a job well done. Now then, I believe we are nearing your stop. Sir and I shall continue to the ferry station and head for Black Sand Island." Before Dieter could speak, Sir spoke up, his voice distorted from behind the metal plate covering his face.

"Lord Mechanos, I must report that the Whirlwind has sailed ahead of schedule. I must also inform you that she was not complete at the time her Captain insisted they deploy so that they could catch the Syllian fleet unaware and attempt to retake the island of Kage. Element of surprise and all that."

For the first time ever, Dieter saw Mechanos get angry. The man's face glowed red behind his beard and moustache and his eyes flashed dangerously.

"Why the bloody hell didn't you radio me this beforehand?!" Sir shrugged.

"You had the radio turned off sir, military secrecy and radio silence."

"How incomplete was she?"

"She did not have her complete armor fitted yet; as a result, her stern section, aft bridge, and her engine room are inadequately protected. In addition, her stern guns needed calibrating, and her new prototype engines are still prone to overheating. If she runs her engines for longer than ten minutes, the possibility they could malfuncton and critically damage or even sink the ship increases ten percent every two minutes. Furthermore, the coolant system wasn't installed due to delays from the manufacturer and the lack of spare parts so even if the engines were shut off after ten minutes, they would not be able to cool them down without flooding the engine room with sea water and disabling the standard engines." Mechanos thought for a moment and then turned to Dieter.

"Captain, how are you at carrier landings and operations?" Dieter saluted.

"As good as I need to be sir." Mechanos nodded.

"For this one instance, you and your squadron are hereby transferred to the Carrier Force. Board the carrier Calpernia and set out with the Third Fleet to pursue the Whirlwind. We cannot lose that ship. I cannot lose that ship so soon after she's been built. When you find her, take her idiot Captain and lock him in irons or throw him overboard." Dieter cleared his throat.

"Sir...what if we don't catch her in time?" Mechanos turned at Dieter, his eyes all but glowing with anger.

"If you cannot catch the wind, Captain, do not bother reporting back to me. Return to your post in Tellanos. If you do return here, well, use your imagination." Dieter saluted sharply and stood at attention.

"Sir! The Two-One-Five Squadron will not fail you!"

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Whew! Holy cow! It feels good to finally be typing again. Still, it is a little disconcerting to hear every joint in my fingers pop as I type but oh well, you can't stop progress right?

So as promised, Mechanos and the mysterious Mister Sir has been introduced. What will Dieter do about the rogue Whirlwind? Who is this new member to the 215 Squadron? What does Dieter have planned for Bertram?

Next time: Against the Whirlwind.