Reviewer Response
To SatelliteBlues: Yep! More characters, more perspective, but a lot more character planning. Even good things have their downsides.
To Hunter of City: A lot of the suggestions that you mention I have actually had already been thinking about. Great minds think alike, they say. I read up on that naval battle that you mentioned. It was a good read.
A/N: I put a poll up on my profile. The question is: Who do you think will win the Buteo-Draco war? If you don't mind, I encourage you to vote in it, as I would love to see you opinions.
Chapter 12: Attackers Advance
Song: 40:1 – Sabaton
"Up!"
"Fire!"
"On the way!"
With a loud boom, the cannon on the deck of the light cruiser fired its shell, spraying fire a cloud of fire and smoke. The light cruiser, positioned on the right flank of the attack, had brought its guns to bear and fired them in anger for the first time. As the loader, Ryan opened the breach, and with the wet sponge, cleaned out any remaining embers before reloading the cannon. From the magazine below, the high explosive shell was passed up through a loading hole in the deck, and a powder bag made of a silk-like. The physically demanding part of the task was picking up the shell, which was one-hundred-and-five pounds, which would weigh more and more after each reload. He heaved the round into the breach, quickly followed by the silken bag. He swung the bulky breechblock back into place and locked it shut, resetting the firing mechanism.
"Up!" He shouted, everyone's ears ringing from the previous blast, despite their best efforts to protect their hearing.
"Fire!" the gun captain yelled.
He was standing off to the side of the gun with a pair of binoculars, observing where the shell trajectory when the shell was shot. He was a brave man for sure, being almost immune to the concussive blast while the others hid behind the gunshield. The gunner pulled the lanyard, and the gun erupted with fire and smoke. Before Ryan could reload, the gun captain had to track the shells trajectory – with the helpful aid of a tracer in the rear of the shell – to its' target and call for adjustments if needed. This habit was unique to their gun's officer, with his philosophy on the matter was "better accuracy, better effectiveness" instead of the prevailing action of "put as much steel downrange as possible." Their guns were not what one might call "high angle," so their shelling had to rely on what altitude the shells got to make it over the cliff and into the enemy fort itself for the bombardment to have any effect. To say that they were having trouble getting the range and elevation right was an understatement. This was as much a ranging operation as it was that of shelling. When the gun officer saw the impact, he let out a low growl in frustration.
"Adjust transverse by ten mills and keep the elevation." At those ranges, any slight deviation of the ship of the gun would cause the shell to potentially miss
"Adjust transverse by ten mills and keep the elevation, aye sir!" the aiming personnel repeated the command back and affirming the order. Once the order was repeated again, Ryan stepped to the gun breach. He unlocked the breach and swung the breech block open. The process was a repeat of the first, cleaning out the hot embers and loading the gun with the two-piece ammunition.
"Up!" He yelled once again.
"Fire!"
"On the way!"
The lanyard was pulled once again, and the cannon was fired. The shell could be tracked by its' distinctive red tracer. All of the crew waited for the shell impact and for the orders from the gun captain. This time, the gunnery officer let loose a more positive reaction.
"Good Hit! Fire for effect." That was the words that the gun crew desired to hear.
As the rest of the crew got picked up the pace, the captain looked back to do a damage assessment once some of the smoke and dust cleared away. What seemed to be a gun turret on the fort on a slightly elevated stone tower that had been there before was now nothing more than scrap metal and stone fragments. His assumption was that while the fort was still under construction like the aerial scout said it was, they had already begun to store their armaments and ammo in there ahead of time. It didn't in the end what happened, what mattered was that the gun turret was gone and that the ad hoc marines could advance on the beach without having to worry about any emplaced weapons firing upon them.
And speaking of marines, they were making their way up the center of the formation like they were ordered to, ending the barrage from the center flank and the flagship as to not cause a friendly fire incident. As the troopships got closer to the shore, the captain looked with his binoculars momentarily to see that the landing boats were being prepared and that soldiers were getting lined up with their armor and weapons ready. These landing boats were nothing special other than traditional rowboats that could raise a canvas cover to keep the rain or harsh sunlight off of them. He turned his attention back to the clifftop fort to reassess the effect that his gun crew was having. So far, they were landing successful hits on and inside the fort, but it was the effectiveness of the shelling that would be called into question and answer that only the marine force would be able to answer when they see it.
One by one, the landing boats with soldiers were lowered into the water from raising and lowering rigging. That would be their order to stop when the landing force arrives onshore as to not shower them with fragments of metal and rock. They continued to bombard the fort as the landing forces continued to be lowered into the water. One by one, the first wave of the attack started rowing towards the shore. Even though they were supposed to keep shelling as to keep the enemy force hidden away in the fort suppressed long enough for the landing force to make landfall, many had ceased their firing. While their gun had accurately been trained on the fort, they couldn't discount the possibility that the soldier would get away unharmed from the shrapnel. Against the overall orders, the gun captain ordered his crew to cease their shooting. The rest of the gun crews on the ship followed suit, as did the other gunboats in the landing fleet.
Ryan was thankful for that, keeling over on the deck in exhaustion from heaving the numerous one-hundred-and-five pound shells from the deck to the breach. He might be muscular in his arms, but he had his limits and had they gone on longer, he might have been unable to get the shells to the breach. He, the gun crew, the rest of the ship, and the rest of the supporting warships had all done their part. It was now time for the infantry to step foot on that foreign soil and accomplish a plan twenty years in the making. He prayed to the entire Buteo pantheon that they would be successful in their efforts and that the fort would fall with ease. Even with evoking their gods, there was no guarantee that any of the shells that they threw at the fort would have been effective at softening up the defenders waiting deep within.
/\/\/\
If there was one thing that Lyle wanted right now, it was his horse. He and his entire cavalry group had been conned into being frontline infantry for the initial attack, completely throwing them into a field of combat that they were not trained for. The best answer that he could come up with was that the horses would most likely be the last thing to be unloaded, and therefore be no use to the coming battle. So instead, they had him and his fellow soldiers as dismounted cavalry. There was nothing that he or his friends could do at that point other than deal with the situation that they were given and go about accomplishing their objectives, which they were briefed on before they were lowered into the water.
Their intel report said that there was nothing on the beach itself that would prevent them from advancing up the slope and onto the plains above the cliffs. Add to the fact that the fort was not even finished yet makes the situation even greater in their favor. The first objective would be to secure the beach for future landing boats, which wouldn't take but a minute or two to do so, maybe no time at all with the lack of defenses Next objective was to take the fort itself, which would take some time assuming that the defenders were all alive and in their shelters. Once they uproot the enemy from the fort or kill them all one, then it was to secure the rear areas where any supplies and housing might be. Once all of that was done, then they had successfully captured the fort and were able to advance forward inland.
He looked around at the rest of his crew. Ian looked at the beach ahead of them with the thousand-yard stare already without seeing any combat. Then again, he wasn't used to these situations – in fact, none of them were – they were all still fresh recruits. Kinn was silently fuming that we were not assigned to the task that he and his group specialized in. It got so annoying that someone even higher rank than him threatened to have him court marshaled for insubordination if he heard him bitching about it any further. Needless to say, that stopped him from being vocal about it, but it was clear for all to see that he was still mad at what he had been assigned to do. Erin all over the boat, trying to comfort those in distress at the given situation. If they were praying, she would join them; if they needed someone there by their side for a moment, she was there. The rest of those in the boat began referring to her light-heartedly as the Mystic. Even though that might not have been her rank, it put a smile on her face nonetheless.
As for Lyle, he was not sure what to feel other than a melancholic state of mind. Sure, their mobility would be hampered as they lacked their horses, but they still had their weapons that they knew how to handle best. But out of all things, he had to call into question the reasoning for him to be there. He might have had a month of total training before getting thrown right into war. Was it a mistake, or was the Royal Army really that desperate already? Of what he was able to hear Bevan say three weeks or so weeks ago, they had one million total soldiers to fight the dragons with. What was it that the upper brass was not telling them? Is it possible that… they were not expected to win? They were kept in the dark about something.
"We're almost there, get ready, men!" someone at the front shouted, breaking Lyle's train of thought. The murmuring of everyone on the boat was silenced, the sound of rowers moving their oars into, and up and out of the water taking their place. This was it, the moment that they had been anxiously waiting for. For them, it would be the first time that they would step foot on an entirely different continent, a wholly foreign land. Now was their time to shine! The generation before them fought the Dark Army and their vile dragons – from their hands, the torch was thrown, and it was time the new generation to lead the way, avenging those that had been slaughtered, maimed, and broken by the dragons.
Time seemed to slow down for them all as the shore of the beach continued to get closer and closer. Lyle closed his eyes and waited, the world around him going quite as the sound of his beating heart overpowered everything else. He couldn't help but think back to his father's last words:
"I didn't want you to go into the army, but now I realize that I realize here more than ever that I was a fool for trying to discourage you. Go teach those bastards a lesson. Raise our flag up high..."
They all felt the bottom of the boat scraped against the sandy shore below them and came to a stop. They had made landfall. Lyle's eyes shot open, clutching his lance tight in his hands. The rest soldiers on the boat sat there in silence. The person that yelled to them about being almost there drew his sword from its scabbard, the distinctive sound of the sword being pulled filling everyone's ears. With a mighty shout – or in their case a screech – everyone bailed out of their rowboats and charged up the beach and to the fort. The Buteo Draco war has begun.
/\/\/\
When the bombardment began, Ronan and the other engineering crew bolted from their perch on the wall facing the sea to an area of relative safety. When the first volley of shells landed, the ground shook with a great tremor with the force of an earthquake. They did not want to be on the surface to see what the other ships were capable of doing. When the first shells impacted – one of the towers with impressive accuracy – they found their safe haven, and that was in the underground protected armory. For all that could make it, it was the place where they would ride out the storm and prepare a defense – they might have been a part of the engineering corps, but they were still trained soldiers.
The armory was well-lit thanks to magically powered lanterns that illuminated the underground hideout. Out of the one hundred people on the worksite, the highest number in the shelter was forty-three. Their fates were unknown to those in the armory. It wasn't the only underground place to take shelter though, with at least two suitable locations and three of questionable effectiveness, but protective nonetheless. But it was from the armory that they would organize their counterattack while the bombardments went on. Even in the chaos that was the shelling, they were oddly quiet, everyone too stunned at the events that just occurred. That didn't stop questions being asked left and right.
Even underground, the sounds of explosions above them was more than enough to unnerve them all. It seemed like more than 30 feet underground with a reinforced roof above them did not stem the fear of one the many shells exploding overhead to punch through and kill them all where they stood.
"Ro-Ronan, w-what the hell did they just hit us with?!" The fire dragoness said, holding one paw over an apparent and hard to hid injury her other front leg.
Ronan turned to the fire dragoness, "I'm not sure, Teine," he replied. "I'm more concerned about that injury of yours. Can I take a look?"
"N-no, it's just a little cut," Teine replied, trying to downplay the severity of her injury. Looking down at the floor told a different story, where her left leg was standing in a tiny pool of blood, the warm fluid still flowing down her leg.
"Then I guess that puddle o' blood is the floor bleeding," he replied sardonically. Even if she wanted to avoid the extra attention, there was no doubt that it was a little more severe than just a small cut.
"Fine, take a look at it."
Ronan walked over to Teine and knelt down to be eye level with the injury. Reluctantly, the dragoness removed her other paw from the injury. The good news was that the blood had already begun to clot, which was good considering that they did not have any red spirit gems at hand to heal the injury magically. The bad news was that the injury was a nasty one, with the most perplexing element being that there was a metal fragment embedded in her, cutting through the hardened scales and tough hide into the muscle below. Ronan, with his acute canine sense of smell, caught a faint whiff of something coming from the wound. It wasn't the awful smell of the body, but rather from the fragment itself. While it wasn't a residual smell that he was familiar with, it let out the acrid smell of explosive residue.
"Well, that be odd," he looked up to the dragoness. "You got a metal fragment in your leg, but there ain't a bit of metal used here." He stood up and looked her directly in the eye. With a little bit of reasoning, he came to a grim conclusion. "Whatever the hell they shot us with exploded."
"Are you sure?"
"As best as I can guess. I can smell some kind of residue on the fragment."
That didn't calm the nerves of anyone down there with him, if anything, it only made them more anxious. He in his pirating days had thrown sticks of dynamite or little handheld bombs but never had he in his days shot anything out of a cannon that exploded, at least not like that. Solid shot was the primary shot that was fired as it was the easiest to acquire. But this… this was different. Round shot didn't glow red when it flew through the air, nor did it explode when it hit anything, and it surely didn't fly that far either. The Skavangers and Canine Kingdoms though that they had the best artillery, but it appears that they were wrong.
They prepared themselves for the eventual landing that was to take place. The dragons donned battle armor as well as the other races in the underground armory. The dragons didn't take anything in terms of weapons, they were weapons in their own right, but the rest of the races grabbed the arms brought with them that they were best known for. The cheetahs grabbed their longbows, the Atlawa grabbed their rather unique variant of a spear, and the canine went to grab what was perhaps the most deadly of the weapons in storage: the claymore.
Ronan began to don his set of chainmail armor as the rest were donning theirs. It was somewhat of a tedious process, but when accomplished, there was one last piece: the clan surcoat. Since Ronan began his new life in Warfang, there was really no need to wear the old clan surcoat other than for his own pride and remembrance of where he had come from. However, It could have caused a little more trouble than he expected it to. There were other members of the canine species present with them, including but not limited to a red fox. He, too, had a similar set of armor but wore his old clan surcoat as well.
"So you a MacNelly, ain't ya, lad?" he said to Ronan. All it took was for Ronan to look and see the coat of arms of the fox to understand why he asked. He was from the Mackenzie clan, one that had a harsh rivalry with the MacNelly's. Thankfully for everyone in the shelter, they had already put their differences beside them.
"Yeah. I see you are a Mackenzie…"
"Think that we will do better here than the Forbes' did when the Kennedy's occupied 'em?"
"Seeing as we are here and not doing much to fight back right now, there's not much that I can say," Ronan gazed up at the ceiling momentarily, only to have a shell land above them, knocking dust into his eyes. The fox laughed as he blinked the dust out of his eyes.
"There's forty-three o' us down here, If those not in here were killed out there, then those ironclads have thinned us significantly."
"Well, let's hope that we have enough time to get back out there once this ends. They won't stop until their landing party is ready to charge up the hill."
"How would you know?" the fox asked, tilting his head at Ronan.
"A former Skavenger, lad. If we needed to put boots on the ground, that's the kind of tactic that we used." Ronan flinched as another shell exploded above them. The sound of shells above them was getting louder. Aside from a small layer of dirt for the clifftop grass to grow, there was an almost solid layer of rock above them. The more shells land in the fort courtyard, the more craters that form, and the closer the Hell above them would creep downward. As the bombardment continued, the entire makeshift bunker continued to shake with each nearby explosion.
All that they could do was sit and wait for it to stop, and it eventually did. And when it did, the defenders below emerged from their shelter to see what remained of the fort. For as intense as the bombardment was, a good portion of ground-level fixtures was still intact, but anything that had been built higher might as well not been built at all. They also discovered that they were not the only ones alive on the surface. Others had found shelter and survived. But they found the others, and the nature of the injuries was absolutely horrifying. There was an unfortunate green dragon that had not made it to a shelter. Their body had been mangled so severely that it was impossible to identify who they were or what gender they were. Either metal fragments or the concussive blast from the explosions tore them apart. The only thing that they could identify was what they had eaten for dinner.
Then they heard it down below at the beaches. It the shout, no, a screech of hundreds of soldiers.
/\/\/\
The charge up the hill in plate armor was a much harder task than it looked. Through the bombardment, many shells fell short and made craters that got in their way. Some shell holes were far enough apart to move in between, others were packed closely together to the point where the charging soldiers had moved through them. With that, Kinn finally quit complaining that they were dismounted; to repair the damage to the slope would have taken two weeks and to find another suitable landing spot. If they were going to take part in some action, now would be their time.
When the crested the top of the slope, the fort was right there for the taking, or so they thought. It wasn't long before they saw the defenders. They were armored and ready to fight, as was the Royal Army. They continued to charge forward with determination. This was their moment. A moment of excitement, pride, questioning, fear, and all other mixes of emotions. Then the dragons charged. It was a male ice dragon that leads the counter charge, followed behind by other dragons, as well as the other races that were working on the fort.
Their lines met with a heavy crash.
Lesions learned from the Dark War gave the dragon some experience on how to fight creatures that had superior numbers but were physically inferior. Elemental breaths were great for crowd controlling and thinning, and dealing with individuals would mean reverting back to physical attacks that the dragons excelled at. But applying that tactic against the Buteos didn't work as well as it did with the apes. They couldn't pinpoint precisely what; maybe it was the plate armor that they wore that made the elemental and physical attacks less effective, or perhaps it was that they have more mettle than the apes did. Either way, it was not going to be easy.
For the Buteos, this was a change that their field manuals did not go into much details about. Information about the combat style of Dragons was based on the experience of the Royal Army had against the Dark Army's dragons, which fought much more savagely than these dragons did. These dragons fought in a much more organized and formal manner. It made combat on their part a little bit easier.
The ice dragon that had led the charge had done well. The combination of chilling the metal of the Buteo armor with his elemental magic made it brittle and likely to shatter when struck with enough force. With bare skin or rather feathers exposed, it meant that one good mauling of a swing of a tail blade would bring significant injury to the poor hawk on the receiving end. He found success with other attacks as well. One magic-heavy attack would freeze a Buteo inside out for another dragon to smash, sending frozen chunks of bird in every which direction. As brave as he was, he was not destined to live past this battle. He took repeated injuries that wore him down, slicing on the tendons in his leg would drop the dragon to the ground, opening him up to have a lance impaled into his chest. He perished soon after.
Ian had been lucky to deliver that ice dragon the finishing blow. He was fearful at first, but as the battle raged on, he learned how to survive. He had seen how the other ones had been slain and came to the conclusion that could be chopped up to carelessness and overconfidence. But there were the few where it was just downright bad luck. He was careful and lacked confidence, so by that reasoning, he was going to be alright. He learned that being the hero was the fastest way to die a not-so-heroic death. With that, he learned to be quick on his feet and how to opportunistic, catching the enemy with their guard down or when they were preoccupied. He didn't have many other opportunities to deliver a killing blow like he did before, but if he could get in a hit or two, he would be content with that.
Lyle and Erin had attempted along with others to get around and attack the defenders from the rear. Some advantages could be had if they surrounded the enemy force, such as cutting off their route of retreat and being able to attack them from all sides. If they were able to do that, then they could slaughter the defending force and raise the imperial flag over the fort. But the task was not as easy as they thought it was going to be. Defending on the flanks were two canines, one a red fox and the other a gray wolf by the looks of it, as well as some of the other non-dragon races that were involved with the fort's construction. If they were to encircle the enemy force, then they have to deal with these other creatures first.
Ronan and the fox both fought to the best of their abilities. The claymore felt awkward in his hand as he swung the long blade around, the days of fighting with a pirate's cutlass had ruined his skill with the weapon of his homeland. It took a little time, but it would eventually begin to feel natural in his hands once again. If there was one thing that he had to admire about the hawks that he now faced, it was that their armor was proving to be much sturdier than he thought it was going to be. Plate armor in the Canine Kingdoms was not unheard of but was rare compared to the chainmail that he wore. Their armor was also stronger in terms of resilience than the plate armor back home. Despite all of their efforts, both he the fox, and the others understood that this was a losing battle when they heard another loud screech from the beach. It was either keep fighting and die, or live to fight another day. They, along with a few others, retreated from the battle, leaving the flank and rear exposed for the flankers.
Things for the defenders went downhill from there...
/\/\/\
The battle was finally over after intense fighting on the part of both sides. The initial wave sent by the Buteos had to be reinforced with the second wave being readied when the first wave made landfall. The fort was eventually captured, but more casualties were taken on both sides along the way. There was no flagpole to raise the imperial flag on so that formal action would have to wait until they could put one there. With that done with, it was time to do the after-action report. For the first battle in the war, it really wasn't what the Buteo leadership present was wanting to see.
There were about one hundred defenders of the fort that had to be accounted for, and the after-action report was written up. Out of the one hundred combatants, forty-seven were Dragons, twenty-three Moles, seventeen Canines of various types, eight Cheetahs, and finally five Atlawa. All but seven Dragons were killed in the engagement, eight Moles died, only five Canines survived, and all of the Cheetahs and Atlawa were killed in the engagement. All of that for the loss of three-hundred-and-sixty-four Buteos, as well as many others injured, mostly due to injuries sustained by the Dragon defenders. Those were not the kind of losses that they wanted. The naval gunfire report was even more abysmal.
Out of armed warships available, of which there were twenty-five including the flagship, all of them took part in the shore bombardment. While they were valiant in their efforts, expending two-thousand-eight-hundred-and-ninny-four shells – almost one-hundred shells from each ship on average – around five percent landed near the fort, and less than one percent of that actually hit it. Granted, they had to shoot at long distances to get their shells to loft high enough to get over the cliff to rain down on the fort, but the admiralty would not be pleased with that number, nor would the ordinance department that would have to order more. That was not to say that their efforts were in vain. They did keep the defenders suppressed, allowing for the soldiers in their landing boats to reach the shore without encountering any resistance.
As for the retreating force, well, they had a long way to go, and with the dismounted cavalry's horses were still on the transport ships awaiting a boat ride over to the shore, there was no way to chase them down effectively. And for the dragons that could fly, well, there was no way that they could doff their armor in a timely manner to catch them, and there was no telling how far they could with the injuries that they had. That did not matter at the moment. The sun was setting, and there wasn't time to get the rest of the regiment off the boats and to land before dark. Those that were on the ships would have to say there for another night, and those that had made landfall would have to stay on land and set up a camp or live the somewhat livable ruins of the fort. With that, they set to work looking through the fort to see if it was habitable and if there was a piece of ground that did not have a crater so that they could set up tents if needed.
Inspection of the fort showed that many of the above-ground living quarters had been damaged by the shells that had landed accurately. Still, with some additional blankets, it wouldn't be too bad – some bunk-style beds were there, and giant cushions were strewn about on the floor. Beggars can't be choosers, and they took what available bedding there was. Fortunately, there was just enough for everyone in multiple people slept on the oversized cushions. Once that situation was settled, it was time for dinner.
Some of them ate rations that were delivered from the transport ships anchored offshore, but some were more interested in raiding the cellars of any available foodstuffs, which they ate with many thanks in part to their enemies, leaving so much fresh and savory meats stocked up. While they lost plenty of soldiers, it was their first battle in a war against the dragon menace, and couldn't be too hard on themselves for lack of experience. They would go to bed soon after, getting a well-needed rest for the next day.
As for those that had retreated from the battle to fight another day, there was a long way for them to go for the closest inhabited area. The dragons that had flown out of harm's way were too exhausted or were in too much pain from the injuries to carry on flying and had to land. At least they were in the same boat as the species that were confined to walking on land. There was a long way to go before they met back up with civilization, and even longer for the Dragon Army to formulate and carry out a response.
Until then, nothing was keeping the Buteos from advancing on the large swathes of the tall plains that lie to the south.
/\/\/\
News of the multiple attacks across the realms came in like a flood during a thunderstorm, with reports stating that there was still more attacks happening at this instant. Needless to say, the panic in the aftermath caused further damages as people acting irrationally took desperate measures to ensure their safety and survival, even if it meant the detriment of others. Food stores were robbed, banks were pillaged, and weapons from armories were absconded with. While the incident reports varied in terms of their details, there was one aspect that remained the same: the attacks were conducted by a race of hawks. The Guardians knew that the invasion by the Buteos was coming, but they were not expecting them to arrive here like they did. It couldn't be possible to have their entire army here already. Did those avians not know that winter was only one month away?
The Guardians had to call an emergency meeting with the leadership of the Dragon Army to discuss the matter. Perhaps this was the final push that the leadership needed to get the full might of the Dragon Army into a full mobilization. That didn't stop the leadership from being as hard-headed as they were before. Even with the insight of Ignitus, they were still reluctant to increase the number of troops mobilized.
Firdin was the High General of the Dragon Army, a soldier who had worked his way up through the ranks to get to the position that he now held. Unable to make it to the first gathering due to sickness, he sent a representative in his place, but now was able to attend the crucial meeting. His red scales might be able to take intense heat, but he was not expecting to be flamed like this. The decision to perform a limited mobilization was a very unpopular move among the ranks of the Dragon Army, both for the soldiers who were skeptical that there was a threat at all, and those that were less skeptical and did not want to fight a prolonged war against a new enemy for fear of what it could become.
It was evident, however, that there was a threat, but with the nature of the attacks, it was hard to fully discern the details only a day after these events had occurred. They all deliberated over the actions that needed to be taken in response to the raiding operations. Needless to say, parliamentary procure was something that was quickly done away with as emotions flared.
"We need a full mobilization at this instance!" one the lower-ranking generals yelled out, not doing anything to control his emotional expressions. This one, an earth dragon, had discovered that in one of the Buteo raids that his mate had been in the crossfire, sustaining life-threatening, but easily treatable injuries thanks to the healing properties of red spirit gems. For him, this was personal.
"We need to keep the mobilization as it currently is and wait until further information becomes available. If we act too rash, we will cause massive panic," another dragon shouted. This one knew what she was talking about because she had seen the effects of panic first had when it came to emergency management. With the news of a looming disaster hits, people will begin to act irrationally, sometimes causing a bigger issue than the disaster itself. It also would allow them to gather more information on their adversary, which would help them organize more effective operations.
"What of our allies? Have the other species out there made any decisions yet?" Another great question that they did not know the answer to at the moment. As it stood, there were only members of the dragon leadership – military and civilian – present at this emergency meeting. It was kind of a dumb question to ask since envoys from the other species had been sent to the capital of the Realms for each group's stance on the issue, but it was a question nonetheless an important one.
This sort of behavior escalated further until a small break had to be called to ease the tensions that were building in the room. It gave everyone time for everyone to process all of the information that had been presented, as well as allow a little time for the newer information to become a bit more organized in terms of its delivery. Although for Spyro, this time was spent more in denial than anything else.
As a prominent figure in the Dragon Realms, it was usually customary for him to attend particular gatherings when it came to public affairs. He was not present for the first meeting, where the limited mobilization was ordered for the sake of him not going over the edge with all of the stressors on him. This time, there was no getting out of it, no matter, something that displeased the Guardians to the highest degree. They had tried to keep the raw information from getting to him, preferring to sugarcoat it as best as they could, but the cat was out of the bag, and there was nothing that could be done to put the cat back in.
'They wanted me to be in the dark, didn't they?" the purple dragon thought to himself as he walked through the hallways of the temple, lazily walking throughout all of the winding corridors on the various floors. He was a melting pot of emotional uncertainty, with pessimistic thoughts taking the forefront of his mind. 'We finally got things back together again, now it's all going to be for nothing as it will all be torn apart again.'
Occasionally he would cross paths with other dragons, each of them greeting him with a respectful nod, which he would reply back, in turn, doing his best to suppress the feeling that he was experiencing. His guise was working out so far, but the more he walked, the sourer he got, and the sourer he got, the harder it was to hide it. And it would take a pink dragon to be the one to notice.
Ember had wandered her way into the temple, somehow making it past the guards. Spyro knew that she had a big crush on him, and was willing to bet that she was there to get closer to him. It was another thing to further frustrate the purple drake.
"What are you doing here, Ember? Classes aren't in session right now, and administrative things are going on that aren't open to the public."
"Here to return some borrowed items." There was a satchel slung around her back. She slid the bag off and pulled from it three books from it to show that she was genuine. "Volteer opened up his study for students to borrow materials, kind of like a library." She slid the books gently across the floor. Titles like "A Treatise of Fire Elementalism," "Basic to Advance Fire magic," and "Fire breath for dummies" gave off the impression of two things: either she had a lot to catch up on, or she was extra studious. Being that it was Ember, it was had to tell just exactly what that would be. Perhaps being frozen in place was more than enough encouragement for her.
"Fine, I'll walk you there."
"Wait, does this mean–"
"No, no, it does not. Just because she is not here does not mean that you can try and take her place." He was intentionally vague about the details of her departure, but it seems that Ember was able to figure that Cynder had been gone for a while.
"It was worth a shot," Ember replied in a snarky tone, "Let's walk then."
The books were put back into her satchel, and she slung it back over her back. Both of them, for the time being, we're finally getting along. They made their way through the halls and rooms, Spyro taking care not to have her see that it was a meeting between civilian and military leadership. Granted, the public knew that something had happened, but if they learned about the meeting, the rumors of another costly and long-lasting war would run rampant, and the panic that would follow would cause many more problems for the dragons than it would their adversaries.
"So, what's got you in such a foul mood, purple boy?" Ember said in a strange mix of humor and seriousness. "You are not your usual self."
"What makes you think that I'm not like this? I could be wearing a mask in public for all you know."
"It's your vibe. You're always so positive and cherry, but now you are acting like someone dropped an open dumpster onto you."
"Even if I could tell you, I'm not going to."
"That's fair. Gotta keep all that government stuff a tip-top secret, huh?"
"It's none of your business to know right now, Ember. Now please drop the subject; otherwise, I might have to freeze your maw shut." The last part was more of a joke than an actual threat, but being frozen in place was quite the experience, so having her mouth frozen shut was something that she was most certainly looking forward to.
"There's just a lot of things going on right now that I don't want to talk about, that's it."
"Stressed?"
"A little, having to juggle everything takes its toll." Truth be told, Spyro didn't have all that much to do at all. He silently prayed that his alibi would work and that Ember would quit pressing the issue. They were almost to Volteer's study. She wouldn't be pestering him much longer.
"That must be tough. I though shadowing an apothecary was tough work."
"You are working in the medical field?" Spyro was genuinely shocked by this. Out of all the people who would make medicine, Ember never crossed his mind.
"It's been something that I have been interested in since my childhood. It's how medicine can take a deathly ill person and bring them back to health in days; my mother went through something like that when I was a small child."
"Huh, Interesting choice."
"Right? With a lot more other species coming to Warfang, it makes it a field that needs more attention. Other species can't use red gems like we can if we want to get better, so they either have to slog through the sickness, seek treatment, or die. I think that we can better in that way; provide medicine to those that need it. There is plenty of remote villages that don't have access to medicine, so maybe when things settle down more, we might be able to do some specitarian work and help these places."
"Huh, I never thought of it that way. And you're right, there are a lot of places out there that don't have access to these things. I don't suppose that you've been to Tall Plains yet, but they are as remote and isolationist as can be. Out there, they don't have easy access to care like we do."
"I can't say I have been out there, but I see your point."
They turned down another hallway. At the end of it was Volteer's study. About twenty feet from the door, Ember brought up a question that Spyro was not expecting to be asked.
"Have you heard anything about Cynder? She's been gone for a while now, hasn't she?"
Spyro could not tell if she was genuine with her question or not. That alone was enough to strike a nerve with him. "No, I have not! Now quit bringing it up," Spyro said with a sharpened and slightly altered voice, the sound echoing in the stone corridor. Ember froze in place, her tail becoming stiff with fear. He felt that presence again creeping on him, one that would only lead to bad things if he let that feeling consume him. After a tense moment, Spyro let out a long-winded sigh.
"I'm sorry, Ember. I didn't mean to snap at you like that, but you are really pushing me to my limit."
"O-okay," she replied, her voice quivering as she did so. They were finally there. Funnily enough, there was a little wooden box with "Book Return" written on the front. Spyro had taken her claims with a grain of salt, but it appears that she was indeed telling the truth. The books were retrieved from the bag and slid through the slot for them to go through, where on the inside, a thud was heard. It seems like she was not the only one to have items to return.
"Well, I got to get going. Marne let me off to return these. If it take any longer, she'll kill me."
"Oh, alright, I guess I'll see you around sometime or other."
"See you," Ember said sweetly, blowing a little kiss as she left.
Spyro rolled his eyes. When will she give up already?
When it was all said and done, he returned to the meeting room where the most prestigious dragons in the realms sat. This session was to go quicker than expected, as, despite the break being declared, plenty of like-minded people gathered together to discuss the topic on their own time. In fact, they were ready to submit their proposal in response to the Buteo's raiding attacks. The proper procedures were restored, and a water dragon proposed a response.
"After some careful consideration, I forward the motion that increased mobilization from twenty-five to fifty percent army capacity." It was a simple proposal, and everyone in the room for once remained quiet for long enough to consider the option. It is of its' very nature was a compromise that was meant to appeal to both factions forming in the room: the believers in the threat that wanted full mobilization and those that remained skeptical and wanted to stay at the state that it was until further information was gathered. Eventually, both sides started a surprisingly civil discussion compared to those that were had before.
After several minutes of this civility, everyone was content with the proposal. All that waited now was Firdin's approval for it to happen. They all turned towards the general, waiting for his decision. With all eyes on him, he gave his judgment.
"I approve."
That was all that was needed. The meeting was soon adjourned afterward, and all attendants were dismissed, many of whom either flew of walked back to their jobs or back home.
For Spyro, though, there was nowhere to go. This was his home, and he was more than irritated that the guardians, dragons who he essentially grew up with, had intentionally kept information from him for seemingly no reason whatsoever. He would encounter them returning to his room, where they would try to strike up a friendly conversation, only to be met with his silence. Both he and the Guardians knew that the best thing for them at the moment was some alone time. Time for the Guardians to reflect on the decision and how withholding information backfired on them, and time for the purple dragon to vent and fume his frustrations without lashing out on those that he truly cared about.
Bradan made his annual trek through the woods to the secluded treetop hill again, a habit that, while done to be inconspicuous, was leaving behind a conspicuous foot trail. Even more visible would be the many gem clusters that had generated in and around the hill. That was an easy fix; toting all of them back to the palace lab and explaining how he got them to the rest of the personnel was not. If a game warden were to find him in there, he would surely be detained, no questions asked. He didn't overthink it as it really wouldn't matter to him if he were arrested or not – he had some connections that would make it easier on him.
And those connections helped him better understand what was needed for that unique spruce tree to live. The forester, whom he had been friends with for numerous years, went with him to the secluded hilltop and gave an in-depth, albeit unofficial, assessment. The site was perfect for that species of spruce to grow, given that it remained undisturbed by anything that might cause harm to it. To Bradan, that was good news. As long as he was able to continue to look after the tree, it would be safe, and so would Cynder. With that all out of the way, Bradan thanked him and politely shooed the forester away. The forester didn't question it vocally but came under the assumption that the religiously secretive man was more a follower of Druidism rather than the Polytheism that was common throughout the kingdom.
With that done and out of the way, Bradan began another one of his one-way conversations with Cynder. He plopped down onto the ground, crossed his legs, and let his wings relax. The therapeutic conversations were relaxing to him physically as they were mentally.
"Is it odd how I, a practitioner of magic, had to drink a potion that was derived from a dragon's spirit gems? Its something that has bemused me for decades now, how we Buteos have no means of instantaneous magic casting, but gain it as soon a down a pint of green liquid? Or how now we might be able to heal our injuries with the red gems like you can? I think that I have an answer to that very question, or at least an educated guess.
It's not the gems themselves that have these mystical powers, but they contain the mystical powers. I say this because were able to reproduce the green gem potion with a siphon-style tea brewer rather than ruin a patch of alcohol, which allows us to see just exactly what is happening as we look through the glass. As we get the water – and a lot of water for that matter – up to a roaring boil, the water gets siphoned up and is allowed to interact with the spirit gems. As we observed the interaction, the water that was siphoned up started to gain a green color, but the gems themselves began to lose their brightness. When it was all said and done, about thirty or so minutes, we had ourselves the first green gem potion in twenty years. We first had a test subject try it to see if it might cause any adverse reactions, and to our luck, it did not. I drank one as well to see if it was just as potent as the first one I ever drank was. It was a much weaker effect, but it gave me that same feeling that I felt twenty years ago, albeit at a lesser intensity. The rest was given to the King and Queen as a gift.
"We did the same with the red, blue, and purple gems. When we got to the blue gems, it became clear now why the Dark Army's dragons did a fine job of getting every last shard: empowerment. To think, us magic practitioners had to train ourselves for twenty years to get to where we are, and we could have done the same thing in a shorter amount of time had we access to them. But the purple ones, that remains a mystery to us still. We had multiple rounds of the purple gems, but it seems that nothing is happening at all. Perhaps there is something deeper that we do not yet understand how those in particular operate."
He reclined back until he was lying flat on the ground, looking up at the evening sky, the brightest of stars beginning to shine through.
"I know you probably want to hear about the invasion, as that pertains most to you. They should be making their landing any day now. The usual sailing trip takes about three or four weeks to get from here to over there, and it's been about three weeks now. Soon, Quillian steel will be soaked in dragonic blood – well, that is, if the army can get their heads out of their asses and get with the times."
Bradan's voice shifted, revealing hidden and pent up frustration.
"Look at what the navy did: they took every advantage of every technological advantage that they could, even speeding up development in certain fields. The navy has all-metal warships with advanced cannons. Yet, the only thing that the army has adopted is the cannon technology – actually stealing naval cannons to do so – and left the grunts with antiquated weapons. Military fathers could give their swords, spears, and bows to their sons, and I can guarantee you that they would still be used. I don't think the top brass understands that dragons are much more physically imposing and durable than the apes ever were. They never had to fight one of you. But it takes a tragedy to initiate some change."
"It's honestly idiotic. They say that it's because a bullet from a gun cannot do a much damage as a stab from a sword or spear. Well, I have shot one of these before on a hunting trip with friends, and the bullet could go right through a deer at its thinnest, and get burred very deeply at its thickest. Even faced with that evidence, the old-timers would say 'Oh, but that's too new of a contraption to use,' or 'But it's too slow to reload.' Oh well, of course, it is – breach loading works well with the naval cannons, but it hasn't yet been optimized from small-arms yet. I would give it a year before they start becoming commonplace.
"But now I have a new problem to worry about. If everyone can keep tightly beaked about the generation of gems, then I don't have to worry about it as much as currently am, but that's not how the world works. If the word got leaked to the military that we can produce more magically gifted soldiers, then they will have their eyes on me wanting to produce more potions. See, I would be happy to make red potions, as that has a single purpose: to heal. Magic is a double-edged sword. It can be used for good or evil, and I highly doubt that they are going to be using magic for buteoitarian purposes. And I don't want to know what kind of monster they would make with a blue potion, or what even would happen with the purple potion."
The Buteo sat up off the ground, stretching his arms out, popping as many joints as he could.
"I've not got much else to say. I know you probably want to hear how your species is doing and if they are winning or if they are loosing. When I have more, I will give it to you. Unless you want to hear more personal matters going on, which I guess I could talk about too, but there is no way for you to tell me if you want to hear them or otherwise. I might do that next time if I got anything. Until then, I bid you farewell."
Bradan lifted himself off of the ground and made his way back onto his trail and back to the palace where he would continue his work. He couldn't help but feel anxious about that. He had promised that he and his team would figure out life's biggest secrets, to become one step close to the divine with his work in metaphysics. After the accidental discovery of soul manipulation, they had not made any new discoveries since. Maybe this was as far as the study would go. Or maybe there was a reason why this ancient practice had never gone further than where it was.
/\/\/\
After nearly a month being a tree-dragon, Cynder could say that she had finally got adjusted to the life that she now was living, or doing her best to give that impression. She and the other Dryads really didn't see eye to eye when it came to her status of being stuck to the evergreen. She saw it as a hindrance and wanted to be released from this natural prison and return to the Dragon Realms as soon as dragonly possible. The Dryads didn't understand why she wanted to leave so badly, and they most likely never would. Mortal affairs didn't matter much to them unless it was like the loss of their forests. That might be something that she had to work on.
Life wasn't nearly as dull as it was before thanks to the new friendship between her and Astris, as well as the other dryads. Iveyci and Frasia were the ones that she could go to hold a decent grown-up conversation, as well as for answers to any questions that she might have had. Astris was the one that always wanted to play with her, and Cynder was more than welcome to do so, seeing as how there was nothing better to do. There were other Dryads, but it was only those three that visited her regularly. It was helpful company to have.
It was Astris, though that Cynder came to appreciate the most. No matter how negative things were, the young spirit would continue to carry on with her childlike innocents. The two had grown close together. It was every other night that Cynder's past would come to haunt her in her sleep, something that she wasn't all that grateful for. When she would be awoken by these malicious dreams, she would find the little green spirit snuggled up next to her, curled up in blissful comfort. She didn't know if it was because of their friendship, or if it that the spirit sensed that the dragon was in turmoil. Astris wouldn't be there in the morning, and whenever Cynder brought it up, she firmly and confidently denied it. She might be able to convince everyone else, but Cynder was not one of those.
Today, or rather tonight, was a hard night for Cynder. Bradan had come to her earlier in the day and told her about the invasion force and how it should be arriving any day now. That only sought to unnerve the already anxious dragon further. Although she enjoyed the company that she was given, she still desired to go back home to help her fellow dragons. But since she couldn't, all that she could do was swish her tail in nervousness. A conversation right now would help, and she sought out the one person that she could talk to: Iveyci.
"Iveyci, can you hear me?" She called out, standing at the edge of her limits facing the woods. Mystically, the spirit materialized and approached the dragon, the Dryad taking the form of a dragon once again.
"Yes. Do you need anything."
"I have some questions to ask. Is Bradan telling the truth, or is he stringing me along by telling me what all that he does?"
"We can sense no malicious intent in him, Cynder. Everything that he has told you so far is the truth. If there was, I would send someone to look over him on your behalf if need be."
It was an uncomfortable feeling knowing that the Buteos had now access to the powers of the various spirit gems. It did bring her a sense of relief that they were ignorant of the purple gems and that they were used to build up power for furies. What a Buteo fury might look like was something that she did not want to know about. If Bradan could, by normal power alone, send her through a stoutly constructed hardwood floor twice, then there was no telling what he could have done with a fury attack. Or was that in of itself a fury? She could never know
"Even that "small-arm" thing he was talking about?"
"We don't like to talk about that," Iveyci said grimly, a scowl forming on her face. "It is real, and it is a vile thing. Us Dryads have seen many woodland creatures fall victim to its destructive ways. Cast metal projectiles being thrown at speeds so fast that not even the eye can see it, and causing egregious injuries to those in its path. Not to mention that it spits fire and smoke when used, something that us older ones are not too afraid of, but your little friend is especially vulnerable to."
Cynder panned her head around, looking to see if Astris had materialized and had been snooping on their conversation. Thankfully, she wasn't. The spirit already told Cynder off on how her name was evil – a little bit of salt in an old wound – and that she didn't like what it symbolized. The last thing that Cynder wanted was for the nature spirit to fret over something highly unlikely to occur here in this section of woods. The park rangers would make sure that it wouldn't happen. Bradan wouldn't let it happen if it risked her safety.
"Oh, well, I'm sorry to hear that."
"If you were to ask an animal's spirit, then you would get mixed messages." There were animal spirits too? "The prey animals love it when the predators are killed, but the predators do not like it because their food is taken away. We despise it in general for what it represents: a painful death." Painful death… that was something that she knew all too well. It was bringing back suppressed memories that she had done an excellent job of keeping them put away. Cynder was quick to change the subject.
"There are more questions than I have to ask if you don't mind."
"Not at all."
Both entities sat down on their haunches facing each other in the soft grass.
"Tell me, what other thing is there that I – us mortals don't know about that you do? There is clearly so much more to this world than we know of, and I'm kind of wondering what all is hiding just beyond what we mortals are capable of seeing."
"Well, Cynder, that is a long story. I assume that it's all of the spiritual things, yes?" the dragon nodded her head. "It all starts with the with The Great Spirit."
Cynder watched in awe as the spirit spoke. "The Great Spirit? Is that like your king? O-or a God?" She stammered, trying to properly articulate her question. It sounded amazing: a whole other world existing alongside her own, an invisible plane of spiritual existence. She wondered if this is what it was like for the Ancestors. Did they live in a realm like this? She ceased her thoughts as she waited for a reply.
"Not necessarily. The great spirit is the universal entity, one that permeates throughout the cosmos. To every star, world, and astronomical body. Long ago, beyond the comprehension of time, it was the only entity, forever alone. There was nothing but it, and only it's existence. To solve its' loneliness, it gave birth to the cosmos."
Cynder nodded. Astronomy was a thing in Warfang, so they had a bit of knowledge on the cosmos, but never how exactly they were thought to have formed. This was an interesting take. "So, a spirit like you made the stars? And the planets? Does that mean that stars and planets have spirits like you too?"
"Very observant. When the Great Spirit created the cosmos, it created other spirits with it too. The stars were each their own; the plants were each their own. You may have heard the name "Mother Earth" or "Mother Nature" before being used to describe the world; that is this planet's spirit."
Cynder swept her tail through the grass absentmindedly, tapping her claws on the ground as she thought hard about this. "So, this whole planet has one spirit of its own... plus all of you?" She tilted her head. "So, where is she? How can we find 'Mother Earth'? Can she appear anywhere, or not at all?"
"Indeed. She gives us the gift of life; it is from her bosom that the elements of life wrought forth. And as for living things, we all have spirits too, or what you might call a Soul. Some might say that we all are Mother Earth in that regard" Iveyci looked up towards the stars above, ironic considering that she was talking about the earth below them. "She doesn't often show herself to us, more watching on from a distance, proud of her creations. Though I have heard stories of creatures fortunate enough to experience her face to face, these are ancient stories from millennia ago."
It was then that Cynder thought of something else, something rather concerning. "What about when the world fractured? Did it hurt her? Did it hurt a lot of other spirits? And what happens to them after they're gone?"
"Her silence was broken by painful cries that could be heard by all. Many spirits were lost: we tree spirits, those of water, the mountain spirits, and their brethren were all effected. They all ceased to exist after that, never to be heard from again," Iveyci said with a grim and serious voice. She waited to see Cynder's priceless reaction. "I was jesting," Iveyci said while letting out a small giggle. "There are many different interpretations of what happens, but we aren't sure where they go to be completely honest with you." It didn't seem like she was joking.
Cynder sat there for a moment of awkward silence before giving Iceyci a nervous laugh. "So... What else can you tell me about the spirits and such?" She was itching to get off the topic of the fracture and regretted bringing it up.
"To get more local on the Cosmic scale, as I mentioned before, even the celestial moons have spirits. And each one has an important significance to us and to other nature spirits. The green one is Veriti and symbolizes life, and the red one, Ferrum, symbolizes death, the color red representing fire. When Ferrum eclipses Veriti, it is symbolic of the destruction of life, leaving the land below cloaked in shadows and metaphorical ashes. But when Veriti returns, it is symbolic of life's return, and the land will light up the woodlands and the creatures that inhabit them. It's the cycle of life and death."
"Oh, wow... We dragons have other names for the moons. The green moon is Zella, and the red is Adrano. We call the eclipse the Night of Eternal Darkness. It used to have a very dark meaning... One I was involved in in the past. But not anymore. I think I like your meaning a lot better, honestly." She gave the dryad a respectful smile.
Iveyci smiled back but tilted her head slightly. "Night of Eternal Darkness... You might have to tell me about that sometime." Cynder's ears were not the only ones to hear Iveyci's voice. A little spirit curious as ever crept slowly towards the two. "Indeed, the cycle of birth, death, and rebirth is very sacred to us. Nature will find a way; a volcanic wasteland will return to the forest with time."
Cynder wasn't easy to sneak upon. Though her eyes remained on Iveyci, she noticed the small spirit in her peripheral vision. "Astris, what are you up to?" She asked after Iveyci had finished speaking. As little as she enjoyed being interrupted, she enjoyed talking about her past much less and hoped the younger spirit approaching would distract them both a bit from the current topic.
"Why is the lunar eclipses so bad for you dragons?"
Cynder sighed. "The Night of Eternal Darkness... When the eclipse shrouds the Well of Souls in shadow and allows corrupted spirits to escape into our realm. This is how Malefor, the Dark Master, escaped from his imprisonment. And I was partially responsible as well for opening the portal in Convexity to begin his release." Her claws dug into the ground where she fixated her eyes, not daring to look at Iveyci out of shame.
"Conve-Conv- ... exity?" It seems that Astris wasn't quite old enough yet to be able to fluently pronounce the complex word. "What's that? And what's a well of souls?"
"Well... It's a, well... Well." Cynder said, trying to nudge away the discomfort of the topic to explain. "But instead of water, it's spirits, or in our case souls. Many many souls, dark, corrupted, lost. Trying to return to our land. And Convexity is much like a plane outside of our own, like this one, but full of floating islands and cosmic creatures. It's... Actually quite beautiful. But it's hard to explain. And it can only be reached through a portal by those born in the Year of the Dragon, like me."
"I wish I could see that, that Exity place. But that Well, can it be stopped? Kind of like filling it in or blocking it?"
Cynder chuckled and shook her head. "It doesn't quite work like that. But it's not really... active anymore? Not since the mountain caved in. It just brings back bad memories." She had to admit she honestly didn't mind Astris as much as before. In fact, it was nice to share her story and receive more curiosity in return than accusing and fearful stares. It was therapeutic in a way.
"So maybe now it won't be so bad when it happens again." The Dryad smiled up at Cynder. She propped one paw under her chin and took a long moment to think. There was something more that she wanted to ask. "Since the lunar eclipses are seen as bad to you but good to us, what do you dragons believe in?"
Cynder paused in thought, trying to come up with a reply. "Well, I suppose it depends on what you mean. Religiously, scientifically... But I guess our baseline beliefs revolve around our ancestors. The idea that not only do they live on through the Earth but literally in another plane of existence as well. Like a heaven, sort of. As far as deities go, we don't really have any, but we do have the Chronicler."
Both Iveyci and Astris were intrigued by this revelation. Even Frasia materialized away after hearing that. They were under the impression that all sentient species believed in something, but ancestor worships was something that they have yet to encounter yet as far as belief systems go. "So what does this chron-chron... Icler do? Is it like Mother Earth in that it watches over us?" For the young spirit to not know anything, it was a very close guess.
A smile spread across Cynder's face, and she extended her wings a bit, feigning surprise as she exclaimed, "That's it!" She had to give the little dryad some credit; she caught on well. "He watches over and records the events of the Era. He can also enter dreams and communicate with people. He told me about the war in mine – it's how I knew to come."
"Did he know that you would be here. Like, here here? You don't really like being here, so why would he lead you here only for you to get stuck? Surely he would have known better, right?"
Cynder gave a quick shake of her head. "No! No, no, not at all! He can't see everything everything, like little details, just big things like the war itself. And trust me, he didn't lead me here. He told me the war couldn't be prevented, but..." she trailed off, casting her gaze away from the two spirits in shame. "I, uh, I didn't listen. I was stubborn. Aaand now I'm here."
"So... like a fortune teller." One could make that argument, although he does much more than that. "What do you think of Traeblesh since you are here?"
Cynder decided to ignore the fortune teller comment, finding the new direction of the conversation to be much more interesting. "Well, hostility aside, it's beautiful. And their city is quite advanced, I'll say that much. The way I see it, if I were them and we dragons really caused such an industrial boom, I'd just let bygones be bygones. Why send more of your own kind out to die fighting a force that was against the same foe that you were when you could all just enjoy the advancements? Does revenge really mean more to them than keeping their families and friends safe? The ones that attacked them aren't even alive anymore, so even if they kill us all, they still won't get the revenge they were hoping for." She snorted, a tiny puff of shadowy smoke exiting her nostrils. The whole idea sounded frivolous and careless to her, and she couldn't help straying from the topic to rant a bit
"If you don't mind me interrupting, I might have an answer to your question," Iveyci quickly said, cutting off any chance for Astris to make another comment or question, "it is because they believe that this war will guarantee their safety."
"Then they're fools! I tried to tell them! We- we didn't even know they existed until they started planning this war! All they had to do was..." Cynder huffed, standing up and pacing in circles around her tree. "Everyone was safe! And now citizens of every race, from the Realms and Traeblesh, will die."
Iveyci was unfazed by Cynder's anger. She could empathize with her, sure, but the looming Buteo-Draco war was not a concern to her or the other Dryads in the protected forest. She remained sitting where she was and waited for Cynder to face her once again. Her voice was stern and serious, ready to give her a long-winded answer.
"Put your paws into their footprints for a moment. You are a mother to two, three-year-old twins. Suddenly, your entire town in blazes and in the heat of the moment, and you have lost track of the children. You see that it is a dragon was responsible and will see something that will scar you for the rest of your life: Both children are being eaten alive, one torn to shred, and the other swallowed whole. Imagine that you are a proud and professional soldier with years of training being thrust into battle against something that you have never been taught to fight against. Your entire company, all but you, is made quick work of with only shallow cuts on the beast to show your work. To rub salt into the wound, the dragon heals the injury at a nearby cluster of red spirit gems. Imagine that you are in a position of power, knowing that if they so want to, a colony of dragons can quickly come and conquer the lands under your control without much that can be done to stop it, and that one could promptly assassinate both you and the king. You have to understand, Cynder, the Buteos see your species as monsters, as a threat to every man, woman, and child.
"The Buteos see themselves as inferiors to something that is far greater than they could ever be, that is why they are doing what they are doing.
"The war? The governance will tell you day in and out that it is for revenge, and so will the populace. But the governance is telling you a lie. Although Bevan had been worried sick about the repercussion of it, the reason why in his heart, as well as in the hearts of everyone that took part in orchestrating this conflict, believes that if are not Dragons are fought back against, then they will become too powerful and nothing will stop them from dominating the entire world. The Industrial advances? All of it was not because the war against the Dark Army had spurred the need for industry, no, it was to give as many advantages to the Buteos a possible because they know that there is no way a Buteo will ever be able to defeat a dragon in a physically; ten or more couldn't beat one in a physically. And the Magic? Because it is the greatest equalizer that they have against your species. They feel like they are backed into a corner with no escape, and the only solution to the problem is to fight it. The leadership sees the losses as acceptable if it means that there will be safety and security for centuries to come."
Cynder growled at the thought. "Ignorance!" She shouted. "You tell me to imagine being a mother to children? I've never had a mother, and I never got to be a child. I could never understand. Because of the same force that took me as an egg. Life and death happen. Bad people do bad things. But to deem an entire species as animals, monsters, ones that can speak like you and build things like you... Ones on your level of sentience. I fought against the same army they did. I killed the ringleader! If it weren't for me and dragons as a whole, they wouldn't have anything to fight for because they'd all be dead. The very ground we stand on would have been obliterated. Dragons weren't the cause of their issue. A dragon was. And that dragon. Is dead. Their fear? Their ignorance? Their incompetence? It is not an excuse for their racism, and when I get out of here, I- I-" she stopped. Truth be told, she didn't know what she would do. She was angry at the Buteos, and she didn't want them to suffer anymore; they didn't want to suffer anymore, and yet here they were... Bringing more hardship upon themselves out of prejudice. She wondered if she even should feel sorry for them. All she knew was that she wanted peace, and she'd do anything in her power to restore it. She sighed and continued. "Look... I just don't want any more wars. Any more fighting. Things should be peaceful, and they would have been had they just listened to me. Oh, but the declaration has already been signed- screw their declaration! A piece of paper has no more permanence than their own lives – lives they're willing to give up on the least noble cause I've ever heard of." She sat down in front of the tree, facing the spirits in dead silence. She had nothing more to say.
Fine, fine," Iveyci said, raising her paws in the air in defeat, "I understand your feelings, but I also understand theirs. I will not press the issue further, maybe for another time."
"I knew I shouldn't have said anything..." Astris said with a large tinge of sadness in her voice, her complexion changing from her usual cheery self to a distressed one.
Cynder gave the young dryad an apologetic look. "Oh, Astris... It's okay. I'm not mad at you at all. I'm just really stressed, that's all."
"Oh, okay." Her demeanor improved a bit. "If it makes you feel better, I have a surprise for you." Astris held a paw out and focused...
Cynder's brows raised up in surprise and intrigue, curious what Astris might have to show her. She had assumed that she was too young and energetic to use any sort of magic, but then, she still didn't really know much about Dryads.
As the spirit focused, particles of visible energy began to fill the air around them, something that in the twilight hours of the night added an almost indescribable feeling of wonder and intrigue to the forest's atmosphere, something that felt familiar but foreign at the same time — mysterious. There on the ground in between them, a transparent, green-glowing sprout emerged slowly, continuing to grow until its growth ended with the blooming of a purple anemone. The flower, like the stem, glowed purple like all other parts, respectively. Upon completion, the glowing energy that surrounded them faded away, leaving the dragon, the nature spirit, and the faux flower between them. "Ta-dah!" Her little voice said, slightly quivering. "I've been trying that for weeks. I can't believe that worked this time."
Absolutely mystified was the only way Cynder could describe what she felt. She'd seen crystals regenerate and grow out of the Earth, harnessed the power of multiple elements, and been visited in her dreams - and even in life - by the spirits of the ancestors, but she had never seen anything as magical as this. It had no purpose that she could determine, no use, it was simply a flower. It was a lovely little flower, and Astris had created it out of nothing. "It's beautiful, Astris... Thank you." She laid down beside the flower and watched it closely. As a matter of fact, she hadn't taken her eyes off of it since it appeared.
The day that Ignitus dreaded finally arrived like the in-laws at his doorstep. Both unfortunate for him and his mental health, it was time to start updating the books. Book one-off of the stack he willed forth had been seated on a lectern for a while, patiently waiting for a quill to fill its pages. Now it was time to begin filling those pages.
Ingitus stated with the sabotage operations. He had to be craft about how he went about sourcing the information. Not every target that the Buteos hit had a dragon there that he could directly source from, but thankfully for him, incident reports had been drafted up by and show to multiple dragons, meaning that he could draw from their memories the information that was needed. As the leader of a military outfit, he could immediately see the reasoning for those targets to be hit the way that they were. While the majority were civilian targets in that that they held no military value, the Buteos must have believed that these places would have been integral for the army of the dragon realms in their logistics operations. Most likely, they would have been.
Even with the magical quill, it still took time to write all of the details. When all of the incident reports had been finished, two hours had passed. Now it was time to inscribe the events that happened at Fort Arder. That was an entire dilemma that he personally found many grievances with. For one, he discovered, was the logic behind the reasoning for the location. Before, there had been many ocean-side settlements that could have supported the establishment of the fort. After the Dark War and the errors in the world's reconstruction, many of those settlements were displaced, sending refugees inland rather than back to the lands that they had previously. The hope was that these forts would encourage those who had lived there previously to return, thus bringing back civilization to these remote places and localized support. Well, those that lived on the coast found it much more appealing when they had found refuge than where they were, and showed no intention of returning. It agitated Ignitus that it was the best reasoning for such a remote place. Sure, it would provide some degree of protection against an invading force, but it was far too distant.
And the battle itself was another thing… Plenty of pages had been filled, and there was still plenty left to go, On top of that, there were plenty of people to contact in their dreams. With so much to do and not enough time to do it, he wondered if he would ever keep up. Maybe if the ancestors would give him an assistant, he might be able to properly do the things that he needed to do.
After an immeasurable amount of writing later, he sighed as he was finally finished. He looked over at the hourglass in the center of the entrance and the glowing… sand? That was flowing out of it. He heard that it was supposed to the time between the lunar eclipses – the Night of Eternal Darkness. The glass was still quite full, so there was plenty of time between one. He pondered what it would be like this time since, if the word was correct, the mountain had imploded. The only way to know was to wait and see, and that was a while away, but the possibility that it would occur during the war was an uncertainty.
Thanks again for SatelliteBlues for providing the voice of Cynder once again for this chapter. After a month, it is done. The battle scene could have been written better, but it has been a while since I have written one and the first time with just melee combat. Also expanded a bit on Dryad lore/beliefs here too, so there something too. There is also a couple of made-up words that appear in the chapter, "buteoitarian" being one of them. Usually these are amalgamations of words so they fit better in the context that they are being used. In the case of "Buteoitarian," it is a combination of "Buteo" and "humanitarian". I don't think I have any other closing remarks, so this is where I will leave it. Thanks for reading.
-Abyssal