"Tomorrow ... "

As the shimmering flames of the campfire bathed her with their warmth, Astalian pondered with apprehension about the day ahead. Thoughtfully sharpening her blade, she watched the wisps of smoke rise gracefully into the night sky, like messages of hope and confidence that she would have liked to send to each of the sleepy Rathlands residents to reassure them. Forsaking the flames with her eyes, she met the gaze of a Rathalos in front of her, whom she greeted with her exhaustion concealed.

She herself doubted about this battle, and it bothered her, because she did not want to appear cowardly under any circumstances. Although she had recently joined the Rathian army and then the Royal Guard, she had dealt with such situations before, especially during the first five years of the war. The Astalos no longer had to prove her worth, but rather to maintain her image as a brave and fearless spy, for a simple reason.

"If I bend, then they'll all do so. The burden is lighter to bear with Tinarg by my side, but ... It's also my duty to have the confidence of a leader. I must not worry so much or I'll start to doubt ... And this must never happen ... Others would feel it ..." she sighed inwardly, as the few soldiers still standing at this late hour of the night like this Rathalos seemed to already feel her anguish, looking at her with confidence and compassion. Faced with the pure blue eyes of the male Rath, she hardened her features so that only a fierce determination could be seen from the outside.

He slowly deviated his gaze. It was not a confrontation. He passed a silent message to the dragonfly wyvern. The crest on Astalian's forehead emitted a gentle shivering sound: she had understood. The soldier lowered his head slightly in a respectful salute, then disappeared into the night, probably to rejoin his tent.

A heavy and steady step made the ground shudder, but the woman-general was not worried about it, and thoughtfully continued to put her worried face into the silvery reflection of her sword after having passed it over the sharpener a hundred times.

"You get some sleep, Astalian," the second Rathien general pronounced in a firm but fatherly tone, and she felt his breath close behind her back.

"I'm not sleepy, Tinarg," she sighed, closing her eyes, putting her weapon and the sharpener next to her. I know it's silly to stand like this and stare at the fire, and I'd better try to lie down to sleep, but ... I won't get anywhere until my thoughts are studied," she added, briefly raising her garnet-colored plums towards him, and then placing them on the sharpener with its glowing reflections.

"Go and rest," insisted the Gravios more gently, placing its wing on the sharpener that Astalian was trying to take again.

"Tinarg ... she articulated. I still need to think. I won't linger here, okay?"

The dragon with the stone armor pulled out his wing and shook his head slightly.

"Astalian ... I won't repeat myself," he said again in his rocky voice with more willpower.

The elytra wings of this one rose gently, and one of its knees bent so that it could rise again. Raising her head, which had been staring at the ground for a while, she crossed her teammate's gaze in battle planning.

"Thank you," she let go. "May the astral lions be with us tomorrow," she said afterwards with renewed confidence.

"I hope so too," Tinarg nodded as she watched her return to their common tent.

As she gradually moved away from the heat of the fire and the robust Gravios, she felt the urge to raise her head towards the many stars that constellated the celestial vault that evening. So many small prisms with a faint glow, but united by their number reminded her of so many soldiers, conscious of their destiny, and ready to do anything to defend the people. It was naive and utopian, but it was also beautiful to know that many still believed they were living a heroic life by engaging in this quagmire, the truth being more gory and miserable. This common faith led the Rathien troops, and gave them their strength. If they lost it, they would be nothing. This power, though blind, had to be carefully nurtured for hope to be strong and ferocious. And that this hope would enable them to defeat the Rakurians.

Pushing back the canvas section closing the access to the generals' tent, the Astalos noticed on their small improvised desk the large parchment on which was written the indications of the plan to be adopted. She already knew it by heart, having studied and learned it for days, but she let her eyes and claws slide over the candle-lit diagrams she and Tinarg had made.

"My role will be crucial. Played to perfection, it will give us a huge chance of victory. And with Blast, Zenith and Arsenic on the front line with us, the surprise effect can only be confusing for the Rakurians. We know them and how they react. Ten years of continuous confrontation have taught us that ... "

She then abandoned the defensive plan to lie down on her layer of flax straw, slowly closing her eyes which had become painful due to the nascent fatigue in the emerald wyvern.

"We will win, comrades. "she thought as she reopened her eyes, her certainty regained.

"I swear !»

"Take your places, comrades!" Tinarg roared to be heard, placed in front of the crowd of soldiers who were finishing their preparations.

The soldiers, having heard the call, dispersed to the place they had been assigned the day before, and all stopped talking to let the generals give their instructions.

"Let the first line advance!" Astalian cried, herself near the Gravios, to enforce the organization.

Quickly, the officers and lieutenants detached themselves to form a perfect line. In the center, next to the two vacant spaces intended for the generals, stood the Rathien heirs taking part in the battle, namely Arsenic, Blast and Zenith, all very well equipped. The pieces of armor forged by Knart were obviously of recognized quality, and these were no exception to the rule: each of a different color, their brilliance even surpassed that of Astalian's armor. This was logical, however, because theirs had not yet been used, unlike that of the general. The blacksmith Agnaktor had been equally clever, because despite their originality, the decorative work done on these armors was not exaggerated: their belonging to the royal family would not be obvious to the Rakurians, and thus, they could pass themselves off as a few wealthy lieutenants.

She then met their gaze, which she supported with pride. Under their helmets devoid of visors, the Astalos felt them ready to fight. She then thought to be appropriate to thank them all for their participation, as surprising as it was welcome.

"My Lords Princes Blast and Zenith, Princess Arsenic, I wanted to thank you solemnly for your commitment, on behalf of our people," she said, bowing. "The honour and bravery you are demonstrating today is an example that will long be remembered."

Tinarg decided to take over:

"It is good to see that the Rathlands always carry young minds capable of feeling patriotic duty and serving it with pride," he added to the wyverne dragonfly's words, nodding imperceptibly.

Prince Zenith replied first:

"The only obstacle that prevented me from beginning to serve my people earlier was the weakness of my youth, General Astalian. I am already guilty of having waited so long. As Prince of the Rathlands, it is my duty to get personally involved in this war," he said, with a slight smirk on his face.

Tinarg was delighted to hear those words.

"... We are only performing our most modest and normal duty, General Tinarg," Arsenic continued. "We would be cowards to shirk it in the name of our filiation."

Blast, for his part, remained silent, but he supported the words of his brother and sister by nodding his head frankly.

It was Astalian's turn to make a delighted pout.

"Good," concluded the Astalos. "Now," she resumed, redirecting her eyes to the rest of the waiting soldiers, "we will resume the setting up of the ranks, after which we will leave to meet the Rakurian troops."

Tinarg turned to her.

"Can you make the aerial check?" he asked.

The wyvern dragonfly nodded her head in a sign of assent, and then promptly rose into the air, so that she could monitor the proper execution of the directives the white stone dragon was about to give. She briefly looked for an updraft so that she could hover in a stationary situation and get a better view, something no other Rathien was able to do. From up there, she could see the entire Rathien army, waiting to move toward the point of confrontation, two kilometers from Ignis's enclosure wall.

"There are three thousand of them. Three thousand Rathiens to face one thousand Rakurians. It is sufficient, to put it like that, especially to repel them, but what we forget is that Rakurai, by having a thousand men, only takes ten percent of its available manpower ... Whereas our three thousand soldiers are all that we have left. Each loss will be tragic. And adding the fact that they have a basic advantage... It's going to be a very close battle. »

As the lines moved in place, she remembered the plan once again.

"Since we have to push them back, it's best to adopt a "bowl" or "shovel" formation. This will contain the enemy, and will prevent them from going around us, and attacking Ignis directly. As if to stop the waves of a tumultuous torrent. It has been used many times during these ten years ... This technique has proved its worth. With my role of diversion and cover, they will not be able to focus on anyone else than me. We could have used the river of Thunder Claw to our advantage, but the preparations due to the restart of the war effort were too long, Rakurai and his men would have crossed it long before we could block them. »

Making a positive sign to the other general Rathien who asked her in signed language if everything was correct from the sky, she refocused on the modalities of her role, giving a few wing beats to correct her position in relation to the wind.

"I am the only one capable of undergoing lightning without blinking. If I capture Rakurians' attention, they will try to focus on me. They know me for the most part and know that I am the main counter against their electricity, fatal for the rest of the army, except for the Gravios who can endure some lightning of average power. If they shoot me down, they win. This is both true and false. If I can't divert any more, the lightning will rain down and no one will be able to handle it. But there will still be the whole army left ... Plus the heirs who will make a nice surprise, normally. "she thought.

After another half hour of setting up, the army was able to start moving towards the point of interception. As they advanced in the coolness of the dawn, Astalian, from his position in the front line, was able to admire the sunrise, the warm and luminous star with which Teostra was associated, while the moon, relative to Lunastra, disappeared from sight.

"Teostra watches over us," said Zenith, his eyes shining. "There are no clouds in the sky, it's a good omen."

Tinarg nodded.

"Justice will be done by the astral lions, he said gravely. Let's not forget that an outrage has been uttered against the Rathlands: the assassination of Lady Tourmaline. Such an act will not go unpunished."

Astalian, for her part, didn't go any further. She was a believer, like the vast majority of Rathiens (and gladly she was, given the fate reserved for the ungodly, who were often chased away and forced to find refuge in the Brotherhood of Scavengers), but she had long since ceased to believe in divine justice. The culprit must have been taking it easy somewhere in Solhatar by now. Without clues or traces, it was impossible to identify and track him. On both sides, the search for the killer had been abandoned.

"It's a really strange case. The hypothesis accusing a Rakurian is certainly very probable, but also terribly obvious to suspect ... There's something fishy going on, that's for sure, but no way to justify it ... A hunch is not enough. We will probably never know if it was indeed a Rakurian plot or an ambush of the Anti-Rakurian Rathiens. I hope so much to be wrong ... "

Everyone, Rathians and Rakurians alike, had sought to know the truth. But when even the professionals threw in the towel, each side was forced to accuse its neighbor of this crime against peace. It had to be one of the two, since the other nations were either allied with one of the two opponents, or completely disinterested in the conflict that had been opposing them for ten years, or even rather satisfied to be able to sell raw materials to the Rathlands Kingdom at a high price. This drastic inflation was also a major brake on the Rathians. Armor became very expensive to manufacture, due to the lack of imported iron, and the pace of agricultural production was more laborious to maintain. With the material losses caused by the situation close to a battlefield, many farms were drowning in debt and were inexorably going bankrupt.

It did not take much time for the Rathien army to cover the two kilometers and see the front lines of Rakurian troops advancing in the opposite direction, raising an intimidating cloud of dust. When everyone was able to discern the face of their opponent, the two armies stopped. On either side, the soldiers stretched themselves out with fierce determination, staring angrily at the enemy warriors facing them.

Astalian quickly swept the first three lines of the northern army with her sharp, piercing eyes. As usual, they adopted a simple but powerful formation based on the brute force of the first five lines of battle. Rakurai II and his sons remained at the center of the line, while the two generals, a particularly tough Barioth and an angry Rajang, stood at either end of the line. However, one of the three Rakurian heirs was absent from the front row. This was the Stygian Zinogre. After a brief search, Astalian spotted him in the third row.

"This is something to watch out for. It's suspicious, this change of place..." she thought.

Something else jumped out at the Astalos: the other individuals present in the first and second lines were unfamiliar to her. Their morphology, powerful and heavy, was never seen before. She was able to recognize a few species, such as Uragaans or Agnaktors, but this was only because the Kingdom counted or had counted subjects belonging to these species, and the only Agnaktors she knew about were Knart, and the icy subspecies living within the Rakurai Empire. Here, however, those Agnaktors were indeed covered with hardened lava, and there was no doubt that they could not have been of Rakurian origin.

"Who are they?"

The general turned a questioning eye to Tinarg, who had also grasped the problem posed by these unknown mercenaries.

"Who are these soldiers?" she asked discreetly.

Without moving, the Gravios answered her in a breath.

"Burutians. Rakurai received reinforcements from the Buruto Dictatorship. It's as strange as it is worrisome, we must be very vigilant with regard to them."

Feeling stupid and ignorant of not knowing the reason for increased vigilance, the Astalos asked him the question so as not to remain in denial. He had much more experience than she did, and he must have faced these Burutians before.

Why then?

The stone dragon lowered his gaze slightly towards her.

"Most of them can't fly, but they have a devastating charge force. Among these reinforcements, I discerned Diablos and Uragaans. These two species can cause us a lot of trouble for the same reasons. Moreover, they do not fear our flames, and easily endure electricity …"

Astalian imperceptibly nodded his head. She understood better the tension born in the jaw of the Gravios. The dragonfly wyvern, resuming her meticulous but short observation, then felt the blood beating at her temples. But from where she stood, the Astalos also felt the heartbeat in unison of the three thousand Rathiens and the increasing tension in the air. On her back, the copper armor she was wearing suddenly seemed heavy and unpleasant. It also seemed to her that her sword, held with force by her pincers, was already sticky with sweat. Astalian was familiar with this feeling, often experienced by novices or apprentices. Despite her growing experience, this stress was always present every time the assault was about to begin. Her very combat instructor, whom she had frequented before joining the Rathlands' army, had reassured her on this point, however : it was not uncommon for a veteran to still feel the pre-charge thrill after decades of regular combat.

"It's a pretty good sign to know you're still in danger in this kind of situation, isn't it? The day when you no longer fear for your life, you'll be an unconscious person, not a hero. A hero, on the other hand, still possesses his rational sense, the nuance is that he accepts the stake of his life, while being conscious of its value. A hero is not reckless. He is thoughtful. "he said.

She liked him, her first teacher. He had taught her a lot about the different ways of fighting, of adapting to the enemy. But it had been five years since she had heard from him. It was him, among others, who had given her a taste for the sword fights ! As he shared a similar physiognomy, he had shared with her all the tips and tricks he used. Hovering, swooping, swooping down, swooping up, she owed him all of this. His way of analyzing and confronting things reminded her of the Skypiercers' way of doing things, but she never knew where he came from, because they always met up to train in the Peace Hills. At that time, the whole of this massif still belonged to the Rathlands, and one could walk there without risk. Five years later, the Burutia, which had become a dictatorship, claimed these lands, and Khryselios did not succeed in using diplomacy. By referendum, it was decided not to intervene physically. In such circumstances, the king preferred to ask the opinion of his subjects, to avoid reprisals from non-consenting people. It was a wise choice, because when the armistice against the Rakurai Empire was pronounced without notice, to put an end to the Bloody War, a minority of Rathiens saw red. A minority that today was suspected hypothetically responsible for the attack that caused the death of a princess and a handful of soldiers. And now this return to war ... It was necessary to reason with the king, but the only ones who could attempt this were the heirs, all more deeply bitter of vengeance than the others. It seemed to be the realm of the impossible.

"To get back to autoritary decisions when the people were previously given absolute freedom, it is worse than dangerous. "she thought.

Her thoughts clearly stopped galloping when the emperor in front of her moved, stepping aside to paces in front of his first line, roaring words whose meaning she could only guess approximately because of the distance. What she understood, however, was that it excited the Nordic people who growled, barked, or roared insults in response to Rakurai's words. Next to her, it was Tinarg's turn to take a deep breath and leave his place to proclaim a rather vehement speech in front of his own troops.

"Comrades!" he thundered loudly. "See these traitorous dogs, all guilty, all murderers of Princess Tourmaline!" he shouted, pointing a wing at the Rakurians, more unleashed than ever. "They still dare, after their outrageous act, to attack with panache the Kingdom of the Rathlands! Behold these cowardly enemies, whose probity is only a chimera, ready to slit your throat for their own pleasure! In the name of Lady Tourmaline, in the name of the Rathlands, may Teostra offer us his justice to triumph over the vermin!"

Astalian took a step backwards with her left leg. She was preparing her support for an imminent take-off. Behind her, the soldiers who were to close the "bowl" were also preparing to emerge laterally to imprison the Rakurians. In front, Rakurai II moved back to the center of his first line, slightly forward. General Gravios did the same.

Then, with the same inspiration that everyone felt, there was a single fatal word.

"FORWARD!" roared in unison the Gravios and the Zinogre Feu-du-Ciel.

The two parallel masses shook in a deaf din. Then the thunder appeared in the form of a thunderous concert of screams. The celestial howls of the Zinogres and the Rajangs. The piercing roars of the Rathalos and the Tigers. The titanic barrings of the Gammoths and theJade Barroths. The cry of Tinarg. Her cry.

In an instant, the entire rear put pressure on the front lines, offensives, which took off. Astalian needed only two steps to propel herself into the air, and flapped her elytrated wings vigorously to rise a little higher than the others. She then used this extra altitude to melt down at a startling speed towards the Nordics, who were already standing ready to receive the Rathiens with a whole row of charging Gammoths and a shower of lightnings. Immediately, her fast and threatening shape was noticed, and the first attempts to shoot her down were made. The Astalos easily withstood the electric projectiles intended for her and then chose her first target: a young Zinogre who did not seem to know how to react to the species she represented. Distraught when he saw her focus on him, he quickly began a series of lightning bolts that were cruelly lacking in power. The general absorbed them with ease, then used the electricity received to charge her caudal pincer. With her sword thus electrified, she let herself fall forward to give strength to the vertical strike that she cleansed on the skull of the fanged wyvern, then took advantage of the earthly support he offered to rise again into the sky, avoiding a lightning reaction from the nearby Rakurians. In the bull's eye. The brutal shock of the blade and the electricity concentrated on the head had killed the Zinogre instantly. While its armor was able to withstand the lightning, its brain was not. She rebalanced herself sharply to make a second victim, then regained speed. Harvesting the lost electric discharges, she migrated the energy acquired at the level of her crest and wing claws. When fully charged, she was becoming very intimidating, with the peridot green of its lightning contrasting with the ruby red of its eyes, and its enemies focused their assaults more on the flying wyvern, which was becoming dangerous as it now hovered over the sixth and seventh lines.

If she was flying there, it wasn't for nothing. Indeed, since the Rakurian strategy was to place the greatest strike force in the front, she sowed chaos in the inner, weaker rows in order to attract the front lines as reinforcements, thus stirring up the different powers, and making it easier for the Rathiens in the front line, with their heterogeneous brute force. Her dive became closer and closer, and even if time was difficult to assess, she could certainly assure to have killed at least twenty Nordic warriors in less than ten minutes. Regularly, she glanced towards the Rathian side. The bowl had formed successfully, and from here one could see the heirs with impressive powers fighting ferociously to maintain the central positions. From time to time, a torrent of flames that must have belonged to Zenith would erupt violently, while the air around Arsenic would turn purplish, a sign that her virulent poison was wreaking havoc. Further back, Blast was struggling with a Khezu that he seemed to dominate. The effect of surprise that they were giving them was therefore very effective for the moment. As for their reinforcing Foamian unit, it was led with a masterful hand by this relentless Mizutsune named Opal, who fought ferociously using her foam, bubbles and compressed water jet, while nimbly avoiding the attacks of the Gammoths and Uragaans who stood up to her. A few magmatic lasers gushing out in the middle of the Rakurian lines told him that Tinarg and a few Agnaktors had tried to break through, on the ground, to do maximum damage.

Swooping towards her next victim, a Blangonga with his back turned, she suddenly threw her talons in front of her to pick him up. Unfortunately, the Jade Barroth standing to his left warned him just in time and took the dragonfly wyvern's talons on his rock-hard head without batting an eyelid. A cold sweat ran down her face as she flapped her wings backwards after using the support, fearing a retaliation marked by something she could not handle: ice. For if the majority of Rakurians used lightning to attack, a minor part of them had abilities related to ice, or even water. However, Astalian was very weak to ice, and had a moderate tolerance for water: it was therefore necessary for her to be more careful when she attacked a soldier using this element. The Jade Barroth did not fail to throw his famous snowballs, but the Astalos had moved far enough away to dodge them without too much trouble. Frustrated, she had to give up tackling this Blangonga, at least for the time being.

She had to negotiate a sharp turn when a cold wind brushed past her right wing.

"Oh f-"

The general didn't even have time to finish her thought that already, a new frozen gust of wind was whistling at the level of her crest buzzing with electricity. Braking abruptly, she waited three seconds and then rose abruptly to find herself behind her attacker: the Barioth Rakurian General. And Teostra knew that even though the Astalos did not know his name, she knew it very well. And so did he.

Not fooled, the flying saber-toothed tiger quickly turned and twisted to breathe his ice again, this time in the form of a sphere, more precise, then took advantage of an updraft to position himself above the wyverne dragonfly, which gnashed her teeth.

"How we meet again, damn Barioth ... This time, you will not divert me from my mission. Let's see which one of us is smarter. »

Astalian put her sword back in its sheath, then clapped her electrified caudal pincer several times.

"Since my blade is so well known to you, I'd like to see how you react if I don't use it! "she roared inside.

Seeing that his opponent was no longer trying to regain the advantage of altitude, the Barioth swooped on her with its mouth wide open, its amber fangs covered with frost. The Astalos anticipated the reaction that the flying saber-toothed tiger was predicting, and presented her sizzling tail instead of trying to avoid the icy bite. Surprised, the white flying wyvern diverted at the last moment its mouth, but wounded nevertheless the general with one of its notched wings. Astalian, stunned by the blow to her chest, did not have time to retaliate and prepared to receive her enemy again, who returned in the opposite direction, this time to breath ice at close range. When the Barioth came close to releasing his frozen projectile, she summoned three green flashes. The first and second were dodged, but the third struck the back of the Rakurian general, who did not allow himself to be stopped. The icy bullet struck one of Astalian's talons, and she had no trouble recovering afterwards, despite the burning cold taking over it.

"He gives me a hard time ... But I don't have time to linger with him. I have to find a loophole to escape as quickly as possible, where others will find themselves in trouble. "She thought as she rushed towards the enemy general, who created a tornado to prevent her from approaching.

The Rathian general went around the windy obstacle briskly, failing to be sucked up by it, before rising above the Barioth, then diving on him, coated with electricity. The impact was as violent for her as it was for him, for as a last resort, the flying saber-toothed tiger, having had no time to dodge, severely dug its icy fangs into her shoulder. The two opponents roared in pain and plummeted violently to the ground.

"Argh ... Why didn't I see it coming ..." the Astalos mentally spat out, getting up with difficulty because of the pain that now radiated from her entire wing, as well as her skull, which had hit the ground.

Soon, she returned to the air even though she did not yet feel comfortable to take off again, because the ground, invaded by soldiers, was always more dangerous than the sky in this kind of case. Still face down on the ground, the Rakurian general twitched, rescued by a Khezu and a Zamtrios who helped him to get back on his feet.

"I have to move away quickly, or else he will go after me again. "She thought before slipping away at the speed of lightning that she produced, far behind her to cover her tracks.