Reviewer Response

To SatelliteBlues: Once again, thank you for your help with the dialogue.

To Hunter of City: it doesn't matter if it is a long review or a short review; I appreciate them equally =). It's funny that you mentioned the weather because that was being taken into account for this story as I think I implied that Treablesh was in the northern hemisphere while the dragon realms are in the southern hemisphere. Thanks again for the suggestions, because some of them might be taken into account for later in the story =).

Chapter 11: Landing day

Song: War's come to our shores – Grimgotts

A Realm only chapter

For the past few weeks, the dragon army had remained on alert status but was still mostly skeptical of the threat they had been alerted to. Many simply refused to believe that there was another war on the horizon right after the last one had finished not even a year later. Others couldn't believe that this threat was coming from a race of hawks. While the command structure has received messages from the Chronicler and had become somewhat convinced that was a credible threat, overall, the limited number of soldiers were not confident that there was any threat at all. That didn't stop the command structure from giving out orders.

It was up to the corps of engineers to develop their defensive fortification that the soldiers could help protect the realms from. These engineers – dragons of all kinds and of other races – worked closely together to plan out and build these fortifications. Dragons, Moles, Cheetahs, Canines, and even an Atlawa or two, all worked hand-in-hand to assist the development of these structures. Some of these forts were sprawling complexes with several below and above ground floors, others were simply a fortified barracks.

Among all of these forts being built, the most ambitious would be those that will surround Warfang. Five massive forts were to be constructed and connected together with thick walls forming a pentagon with the city in the center. Of all of the projects, it would take the most manpower and resources. Thankfully, these were a distant priority, and places that needed the fortifications the most would receive them first before work on the massive complex would begin. However, so many locations have been deemed a priority for them, and resources were already strained.

One of these priority forts under constriction was one called Fort Arder. This remote fort was being constructed on the northern coast of the Dragon Realms as a mean of warding off any of the supposed ships that the corps of engineers had been told might arrive someday. The geography was good for an enemy force to land, with a slope from the cliffs down to the beaches being the perfect access point to move soldiers inward. There were some problems, though. The quality of the masonry already completed was called into question as the natural stone deposits in the area were not as high quality as the engineers had hoped it to be. The solution to the problem is to thicken all defensive assets and hope that it would not give way under siege. Another apparent issue was the isolation of the location. If there was to be a breakthrough here, then there wasn't much in between to stop them.

That did not deter those that were working in it, nor did it slow their efforts. On the contrary, it only sought to make them work faster. If they were going to fight off an invasion force, then they would do so, giving the rest of the realms as much time as they could offer. Even with this quickened working pace, there was still a lot that had to be done. For a Canine, there was still plenty of armaments to be emplaced.

MacNelly was a former Skavenger under the command of Scabb before the Dark Army attacked and destroyed Felmuth and most of the fleet. In the fleet, his job was to service the cannons that the Skavengers would use in their pillaging raids. He was lucky that he wasn't on the arena ship when the Dark Army attacked, otherwise he would have perished in the chaos. The boat that he was on was one of the few that came out unscathed. Most of the crew went their own ways, mainly back to the canine kingdoms that they hailed from, and MacNelly was no different. The family of wolves accepted him back with open arms, but distraught at the fact that their income had been significantly reduced, and that they were back to the way that they were living before he took to a life of plunder to provide for them.

After the World's Fracture, he and his family decided, among other things, to move to Warfang to seek out a better life than the one that they were living. They were not alone. He and his family had met up with other canines: Foxes, other wolves, and some coyotes, all made their way to the dragon city in hopes of a better future. And with the city needing a lot of repairs to be completed, there was plenty of money to be made. Money made by hard labor.

Block by block, he and his family – both the men and the women – worked themselves until exhaustion in the rebuilding process. Just when they were finally at their wit's end, things improved. There had finally been enough rebuilding and repairs to reduce the demand in hard labor, allowing them to take up the professions that they held before they left their home kingdom. That meant one thing for Ronan: work on military equipment. With a little bit of training, he became all too familiar with the dragon catapults worked and introduced the conventional cannon to the ranks of dragon weapons, which in typical honorific fashion, had the muzzles cast in the shape of a dragon's head. His job became to service the many cannons that would be protecting the city from any future threat.

That inevitably landed him at Fort Arder, where he would be the one who would be in charge of installing them into their respective locations. It was here that he would be able to do some experimenting with some design ideas that he had come up with, such as the idea for a rotating turret to house the cannons in. The armaments themselves were another story. They were twenty-four pounder long cannons that could deliver a six-inch round shot or grapeshot out to quite an adequate range. These were some of the best guns that the Skavengers used in terms of overall effectiveness – the absurdly large cannons that some of their ships mounted were more akin to mortars than actual cannons. There was no other cannon that was as effective as that one was, or that is what the assumption was

The first of three two-gun turrets were installed at the fort and were fully operational with test firing assuring that they worked properly. With the glorious thing that was trigonometry and mathematics to estimate ballistic trajectory, It was calculated from a flat trajectory that the splashes of water in the distance was about three-quarters of a mile out given that they had an elevation boost on the clifftop. It was more than satisfactory. There was no other cannon that had the elevation and range to hit the turrets. Everything was good. Content with his work, he walked over to the site of another turret to begin the installation once the materials needed eventually arrived.

/\/\/\

The day so far had been decently okay. Many things went in Spyro's favor, which was a first. Today, he walked through the streets of Warfang, looking at the changing city. Ever since the defeat of Malefor, many different peoples from many different species began migrating their way to the city. To the mostly dragon inhabitants, they initially did not understand why there were so many new arrivals until they were questioned about it. The answers varied, but they had the same underlying desire: to live a better life. Many had come to the city because they saw it as better protection against antagonistic forces, others came because they saw it as an opportunity to grow wealthy and prosperous. Sometimes it was that they were displaced and needed somewhere to stay.

They were all welcomed inhabitants, those of brute strength or cunning wits, it did not matter. It was these inhabitants that he wished to see and set about walking the bustling city streets. That in of itself was a journey all on its own.

From the temple, his home, the closest borough was the residential district. This was the fastest-growing since the end of the war. With the war thinning the numbers of dragons, there was plenty of vacant housing before, during, and after the war. As a wave of migration coming to the city, those empty houses were filled quickly with dragons, and other races alike. Soon, there would have to be major expansions before available space ran out; the wall of the city would prevent the outward spread of the residential district. The solution would come with development both vertical, but interestingly, more emphasis being placed on downward expansion. While there was not much done at the moment, predicted growth would create an entire underground version of the city.

Next was the market district. Out of all of the paces in the city, this was the most crowded and alive at any given moment, and it was the most diverse out of them all. Here, people from all across the land come to buy and sell their goods. It made Warfang the trading hub of the Dragon Realms. But the most exciting place was the bazaar. Here, there was something different every day, hell, every hour almost, with the most obscure items of value available for purchase. You might find there a set of ancient artifacts or find someone's two-day-old burned baked potato. If you are willing to go even deeper into the bazaar, you were more likely to find explicit activities. Many came forth offering Spyro their "services," but he knew better and denied them every time they offered.

Next on the trip was the cultural district, more informally known as "The Fun Zone." Here was where all the leisure activities in the city could be found. It was also where the plaza was that Spyro and Cynder made it snow for a short moment, and where Spyro had frozen Ember in place after she pestered him. She had told the Guardians about what had happened to her, exaggerating the details to get them in her favor. The Guardians were not as gullible as she took them to be, and they immediately dismissed her exaggerated tale and believed the one Spyro had told them. There was more to this area than just gathering areas, there were theaters, arenas, playgrounds, and even more places to spend your time. Spyro wished that Cynder was here with him to enjoy the leisure time that they get.

Content with his walk through the city, he returned to the temple, now with a new burning question on his mind: where exactly was Cynder? He had reassured himself many times that her journey would take time to accomplish, but now, over a month had passed, and there was no word from her at all. He, like any other lover in a relationship, was genuinely concerned, and not in the "I hope she is safe on her journey" way but in a "She has been gone for too long for this kind of task" kind of way. If there was one person that he could go to for help, it was Pyra. He found her sitting on the balcony, where she could usually be found sitting in her free time.

"Can you do me a favor?" Spyro asked, quietly and lowly.

Pyra had a day where nothing was on her scheduled accept for anything that she hadn't done that needed to be, which there was none. It finally gave her some time off from her governing and educational duties. "Sure. I have nothing going on today, so this is a perfect time." She replied happily. "What is it that you need?"

"Can you come and see if you can see anything on Cynder's whereabouts? I seem to no longer be able to use the Pool."

"Absolutely, let's go see if we can get anything."

Both dragons made their way to the innermost sanctum of the temple, where the Pool lay waiting with water that was somewhat stagnant by now. But that didn't matter in the end as long as they got the results that they were looking for. Both of them stared off into the water, hoping for some kind of result, it didn't matter if it was a nondescript image or one so vivid that they couldn't interpret all of it before it faded. It took time, but eventually, an image came. To Spyro's eyes, there was nothing but blackness like there had been before. Pyra saw the whole picture, and she did her best to be as descriptive as possible. It was the same one with the evergreen that she had seen weeks earlier, but with a little change.

"Remember that image of an evergreen tree? It's that again but with some changes. It's the same thing, but this time, spirit gems adorn the hilltop. I also see a vague outline – more of a wispy form – of creatures around the hilltop at the treeline and one around the base of the tree, but that is about it."

To say that Spyro was filled with disappointment was an understatement. He wanted something specific, not some vague clue like the one that got him kidnapped by sky pirates. "Is there anything else that you can see?"

"I'm getting to that..." Pyra once again peered into the waters in search of answers. There was none to be found. After twenty minutes, she gave up. "I'm sorry, Spyro. That's all I can see right now."

"Oh… Okay."

"I can tell that you are concerned about her. Everyone can tell by the way that you act that something is not right."

"Well, she said that she would be back in two weeks. Yeah, it was a confidant and sarcastic remark, but she would have been back by now if she had succeeded in what she wanted to accomplish. I'm just worried that she isn't coming back, that those creatures have kept her prisoner, or have killed her."

Pyra had to think fast to lighten the mood a bit. The had just celebrated the fact that Spyro had gone for so long without those incessant nightmares that had plagued him for months prior not too long ago. There was no need to return to the doom and gloom. "Well, at least I am getting something. If she was dead, I probably would not have seen a thing. She is out there somewhere."

"I just hope that she's not hurt."

"We all do, little one."

Spyro left the room and went about his regular business. Pyra, though, had other plans. Even if she had not seen anything, that wasn't going to stop her from trying her best to get something else. She stayed behind in the room, and once again tried to get a vision. It wouldn't take minutes this time, but hours, about four to be exact. She had put aside her own needs to try to give the little dragon some form of solace. Then, she got what she was looking for.

The picture in the Pool finally changed. It was a strange image, like a vertical panoramic image, which was highly uncommon to see in that orientation, much less a panoramic image at all. It was the same hilltop but at a different time. The rays of the sun that the previous image had was gone, replaced instead by moonlight. The wispy figures were back again, but around the base of the hill rather than in among the treeline around it, and were all looking skyward. All around the sides of the hill were a multitude of symbolic inscriptions, the meaning of which alluded the best of Pyra's knowledge. The top of the image was a different story. It was a silhouette of a dragon floating in front of the moon. When the image faded to nothing but her reflection in the Pool.

It was definitely an image that was up to some wild mass guessing as to what it meant. There was no clear indication of malice but no clear evidence of benevolence either. Pyra was not sure if she should share this information with Spyro or not. There really wasn't much more damage such a revelation would do to the little dragon other than compounding what he already felt. It was a tricky situation to be in. The guardians had been withholding information from him already, and it burned Pyra up on the inside, knowing that they were dishonest with him. Little that they knew, he too was keeping secrets.

Ever since the last nightmare, Dark Spyro, or Nyobaer as he so-called himself, had not harassed him one bit. Not in waking or sleeping hours. He was still lurking within him, and Spyro had not told anyone about it. He reckoned that it was for the best that he keep it simple, that the nightmares stopped, and that things were somewhat back to normal. Granted, he was still unable to receive any messages from the Chronicler, nor was he able to use the Pool of visions, but that was better than a living ever sleeping hour in a realm where he was tortured perpetually or forced to live an entire lifetime in eight hours.

In the end, neither could be guilty when the other found out. Someone as respectable as the Elemental Guardians shouldn't be intentionally withholding information from the purple dragon just to keep him in their favor. Yet, the purple dragon shouldn't keep quiet about something potentially massive because it would mean losing the freedoms that he had due to the constant observation that would be put into place. Both sides would be disappointed when they both found out, but at least they could all be mutually disappointed with each other.

/\/\/\

The time was now for the intelligence network to switch their mission from passive information gathering to sabotage operations, but they had to do it now and fast. Otherwise, the defenders will be too aware of their presence for them to effectively be able to take advantage of the relaxed defenses. Many other things were not in their favor, either. If they knew exactly when the invasion force would land, then they could coordinate the best attacks for maximum effectiveness. Unfortunately for them, they did not have such luxuries and were operating on an "If not contacted by this date, follow orders as directed" basis. They would do what they could with what they had.

Another inconvenience was the location of the many five-man teams that were spread throughout the Dragon Realms. They were too few and far between to have a dramatic effect on certain areas individually, and had to do as much damage as possible to give their brothers-in-arms the best advantage as they could. All of the groups made their way to their targets. The group that had resided in the swamp was no different.

They had the freedom of movement for their primary mission; they moved on from the swamp and onto other locations. For one, they had to as their cover had been blown, and that one of their own had been injured by a powerful blast of an elemental attack. Thankfully, the victim of the attack had not been too severely wounded but ached all over from the blunt force trauma. Even with the lack of advanced medical treatment options in the Dragon Realms without blowing their cover, he made a good recovery with the care that his teammates. With his recovery, they had a new mission to accomplish.

The journey was a tough one, mainly due to having to keep their stealthy guise up, avoiding any potential pockets of civilization. At the same time, they made their way to the designated gathering point. Lucky for them, they were able to fly for the most part thanks to localized clouds blocking them from sight as they flew through and above them. When they arrived, it turns out that they were the last ones to come, making the raiding party a total of twenty strong. It wasn't much, but it would have to do. Their targets were all predesignated by the intelligence headquarters as "targets of value." What they meant by value exactly alluded them as there were plenty of other things that could be attacked and have a higher impact. But their orders were orders, and they had to be followed.

In their sights was a Cheetah village. On the edge of a forest, It wasn't big by any means but was a location that merchant convoys used to rest during the night on the long trip to and from cities or other villages. With the village buildings built of wood with thatched roofs, it would be easy to light aflame the many building in the town, given that there was a large enough distraction for the Quillian force to get the fires started. The village had some decent defenses for Cheetah standards, with wooden walls with a battlement where the archers of the town could shoot at any assailing force. It wouldn't be easy, but it could be done.

On a watch post, an archer stood, watching out mostly for any incoming traffic. The time of peace allowed them to reduce their alertness to attack – even with the Dragon Army's limited mobilization – they still were not expecting any attack anytime soon. From the treeline in the brush many yards from the village walls, the Quillians began to load their windlass crossbows. Out of all ranged arms that the Royal Quillian Army had, this was by far the most advanced – unless the army brass finally got their heads out of their asses and adopted some of the weapons that many hunting lodges used – arms that were more advanced that their crossbows. The crossbow was formidable, the advances in metallurgy allowed for the bow steel to flex enough for a twelve-inch power stroke and a hefty drawl weight requiring a windlass to pull the bowstring back. The crossbow bolts were also intimidating, using arrowheads designed to cause as much injury as possible.

"Who here is the best shot? We will need the accuracy," one of the Buteos said, making sure to keep her voice quiet. They did not know just how well a cheetah could hear. "Because if you can't shoot for shit, then you're better off to go burn the place." Everyone there could shoot a crossbow, but it did not mean that they were able to fire it effectively. Those that could took a step forward.

"Do we have any kind of fuel?" another Buteo asked. "the faster we can get in there and light up that village, the quicker we can get out."

"Well, we've all got some turpentine, but this stuff is to keep the lice and other shit off of us." One said, turning his head to the group, then bringing his attention back to the guard on the watchtower.

"Well, we aren't going to use it all, just enough to get it going."

"You better, otherwise I'm not helping you when you are itching out of your feathers."

"That's fair."

"Alright, you two," the female said, "clamp your beaks and let's get to it. Crossbowmen, give those of us setting fires five minutes to get to the other side of the village. When that time has passed, open fire and draw their attention away while we sneak over the walls on the other side and light the fires. The Cheetahs as skilled archers, so use the land here to our advantage. Use the trees as cover and the brush to obscure your movements."

"So you want us to get shot at while you go play with fire?" one of the crossbowmen asked.

"That's exactly what I'm asking. If you all are as good of a shot as you say that you are, then you should have no problem hitting them too," the lady said smugly. "Pitter-patter, let's her at 'er"

Those reluctant to take up arms against the Cheetah village shouldered their loaded crossbows while five fire starters would make their way quietly over to the other side of the town. They trodded lightly through the woods, avoiding excessive noise and reducing their chances of being spotted. When they said that it would take about five minutes to get over there, it really did, more so in that their wings and tail feathers kept getting snagged on branches and the underbrush. They were fortunate that they got to the other side in the time that had been given. Those that would fly over the walls had their matchboxes out, ready to strike as many as needed to light up the thatched roofs and wooden walls.

The sound of the bolt being loosed by the crossbow was highly noticeable, being able to be heard from the other side of the village. The poor guardsman on the watchtower, though, made an even more noticeable noise when he fell off the tower and to the ground below. The bolt had struck the poor guard in the neck with enough force to drive it through his windpipe, spine, and out the back of his neck. To say that there was a massive response was an understatement. Many archers ran to the walls and frantically looking at where the bolt had come from. Another Buteo loosed a bolt, striking one in the chest, drawing more attention.

With the village sufficiently distracted, the fire fire-starters flew over the wall and onto five separate buildings. Their medicinal turpentine, kept in a glass bottle, and meant to remove parasites, had a small amount splashed onto a section of the straw roof. Matchboxes were produced from their pouches, stuck, and set the turpentine and straw alight. It had been dry and sunny for the past few days, the straw for the roof was old, and there was even a breeze that was in their favor. With straw alight, the quickly leaped over to new roofs where they repeated the same process. As much as they tried to sneak around, they inevitably got caught by one of the village children.

"Dad, look! On the roofs!" the child yelled. The Cheetah's words did not have any meaning to them, but it turned their attention from their task to the little girl on the ground, looking in horror at what she was seeing. Their cover had been blow, and they would be easy pickings for any archers that would have their attention brought to them.

["Shit! We gotta go and fast!"] the female saboteur said, quickly stashing the bottle of turpentine and the matches in her hands. ["Out cover has been blow!"]

They promptly took flight back over the wall, narrowly avoiding loosed arrows. Running back into the woods, they made their way back to where the other Buteos were shooting their crossbows from. Things had not gone according to plan. Even with the terrain advantage in their favor, that didn't stop the Cheetah archers from being accurate with their shots. While all of them were alive, it was uncertain how many would survive the coming days. Those that were healthy helped those that were injured, and they made their way through the woods away from the carnage that was becoming the burning village.

They were fortunate to get away from the felines, but they were not sure why. Perhaps they had injured enough to prevent a pursuit party, or maybe their attention was directed to the soon-to-be raging fires that would consume at least ten of the village buildings. Their fortune would run out. Out of the ten crossbowmen that had stepped forward, the six injured would eventually succumb to their wounds. The five others that had served as assistant loaders had two that were injured, but non-fatal injuries. Those that were in the swamp earlier were lucky that they were all alive, but the three other five-man teams had experienced a loss of their own.

They were not sure what they would do with the bodies. They couldn't just leave them here to rot and to be found, but they couldn't be carrying dead weight where ever they went. There was no time to dig them graves either. They came to a grim decision: they would have to cremate the bodies. Those that were still healthy got to work, some dug a small pit for the fuel, others gathered up any kind of firewood, and one went about the rituals needed for an event such as this. When the time had come, the shallow pit was dug and what all combustible materials – fallen branches from pine trees were common, thankfully – were placed in first, then the bodies on the bed of fuels, and another layer of fuel around and over them for good measure.

The whole scene was somber. Not only did the raiding party lose those that were close to them, but they also were not sure if they had enough firewood to perform the cremation properly. They didn't have the time to gather any more that what was available, and lit the funeral pyre. Their concern about not having enough wood came to fruition. While the pine did burn very hot, but out fast at the same time. It didn't do much at all other than fill the air with the harsh smell of burning flesh. Of all of those that remained, they shamefully left. They saw their mission as a failure, and themselves as a failure. They left the gruesome scene, ashamed, disappointed, and downtrodden.

/\/\/\

Ronan MacNelly worked on the second turret for a while, doing so sluggishly by now. The shipment of materials came in, and he, along with others, was fast at work on constructing the second turret. There was still plenty of sunlight left, but everyone was equally ready to stop what they were doing like it had fully set. Even the site foreman, a seasoned Mole engineer, knew it too. They had overexerted themselves to get finished, and fallen short of their goals. And they were so close to finishing too. In good faith, he had them dismissed for the day to rest and recuperate. Everyone there was more than glad too.

Some of them went down to the beach to wash themselves off, others flopped in a shady area only to fall asleep in the sandy dirt, others went about doing what they usually would have done, although with a more sluggish pace. But the one thing that everyone did was give thanks to the foreman for being lenient on them. About an hour later, everyone gathered on the wall facing the sea, sitting and watching the waves fifty feet below them. It was peaceful. There was one thing that was missing, and they all knew what it was that they were wanting.

The booze cellar had been raided, and all were enjoying their drink. It wasn't strong alcohol by any means, but it was satisfactory. They might have been reprimanded for it, but they didn't care a bit in the world about the consequences. What could they do? Send them to jail? Give them more labor? Being locked up means time off, and they were already doing back-breaking work as it is. They just enjoyed the time that they had.

"Hey, what's that flying up there?" An earth dragon asked, pointing a claw up at the sky.

"Looks like some kind of bird to me," a water dragon said. Everyone's attention was now focused on the sight approaching them. "But it's so high up, I can't really make out any details."

"So you're an Ornithologist then," the earth dragon replied back.

"Not really. It's something that my grandmother made me do with her when I was little."

The figure got closer, almost right overhead before turning back and flying quickly back to the horizon. Everyone was not entirely sure what to think of it. They hadn't seen birds at all since they started working, much less come from the ocean. Something wasn't right. It wouldn't take but a few minutes to find out exactly what it was.

Before they could even see them above the horizon, the smoke from the smokestacks was visible long before the ships came into view. When they did come into sight, though, the whole construction site came to watch what was occurring before them. Yeah, they were boats all right, but not like any that they had ever seen before. It was hard to see all that well in the distance, but there were no sails or rigging visible, nor did it look like they were made of any wood. Out of all the people there, only one knew what it was.

"'Tis an ironclad," said Ronan, observing it with attentiveness.

"An iron-what?" the two other dragons said in unison.

"An ironclad, lads. It's a ship that's got a metal shell around it. Look, you can see the sun reflecting off the top o' the mast." He wasn't wrong. Even golden-colored paint of the superstructure, there was no stopping the glint of sunlight. "I see a couple 'o ships that had iron armor in places, but not never one fully clad in it." Despite their rest, they were still physically and mentally fatigued to put two and two together.

"How do you think it's moving?" The earth dragon asked.

"I ain't all that sure, lad, to tell you the truth."

"I can feel something." A new voice spoke up. It was a fire dragoness. "It's faint, but I can sense great, roaring fires in the distance. Many of them."

"I can sense something too," the water dragon spoke up, intrigued at what she was feeling. "Water under pressure turning to steam, then condensing back into water, and being boiled again. It's strange… I can't understand what exactly is happening."

"It doesn't sound familiar… If we weren't flying using the magiteck engines, we were sailing wit' wind power."

"Then who operates one, or them?" the blue dragon asked Ronan. They eventually started piecing together the clues. "Us dragons only recently started using flying ships since you canines started migrating to Warfang."

"Us Cheetahs have no need for them." A Cheetahs piped up, "We also lack the facilities needed to build such vessels."

"Does it look like we build them?" An Atlawa answered.

"We do build flying ships, but nothing like that o' there," Ronan said, quieting the longer he spoke the sentence. As the ships got closer, the details were began to fill in. There were many kinds of ships, some were small, others were big, each one having a different purpose. Little did they know that their lives would never be the same, assuming they had a life left to change."You know what that means right, everyone?"

"Yeah..." they all said together.

"They're here..." Mesmerized by the sights before them, sitting there in awe. Everyone sitting on the wall felt an imminent sense of dread. They would quickly scatter once the hell began raining on them.

/\/\/\

"Signalmen, contact the other ships. Call for general quarters." The Commodore said aboard his flagship. The ship and the Commodore had to play a game of catch-up with the rest of the fleet thanks to engine troubles keeping the ship from leaving on time with the rest of the fleet. When it arrived five days after launch, it took on a load of new coal from a coalier and took the lead of the formation of ships. It was from this ship that will command the naval ships and the ad hoc marine landing force that was the infantry of the first wave. And with it's armaments, could pack a heavy punch. "Order a left, right, and center flank is to be formed; broadside facing that fort. Marine are to go up the center to the beach and advance up the slope.

"Contact the other ships. Call for general quarters. Order formation of left, right, and center flank, facing broadside to the enemy fort. Marine force to continuing up the center to the beach, and advance up the slope, aye sir!" The signalmen said in unison, exited the bridge, and onto a bridge wing where the signaling location was located. Stored at the signaling location was every signal flag needed. Once they reached their respective stations, they signaled the other ships what to do. It didn't take long for the ships to form the ordered formation.

Once the positions were established, the Commodore was content with the positioning and gave the order. "Fire at will!" he yelled through multiple speaking tubes leading to the signaling stations on the bridge wings to signal to other ships. Even though the Commodore had a higher rank than the ship's captain, it was up to the captain to make the decisions of the flagship. The captain of the ship gave the order to fire to his crew. It wasn't long before a deafening crack sounded to the front and aft of the superstructure. The mighty eight-inch guns, in two, two-gun turrets, opened fire on the fort in the distance. Artillery observers watched patiently for the shells to arrive on target, tracing the tracer burning on the rear of the shell. All hell broke loose as shells from all the ships ripped through the air and towards their target.

A shorter chapter thanks to the perspective being limited to those in the Dragon Realms. This the event horizon, any chance of avoidance had come and gone. All across the realms, sabotage operations have taken place, and the Quillian invasion force is right off the shore of the Dragon Realms. It's been built up for 11 chapters, it's time for the main event.

Let the Buteo-Draco War Begin