Reviewer Response:
To SatelliteBlues: Thank you once again for helping with the dialogue, as it really does help me out. It was not cannonballs that the Quillian ships shot, but shells, there is a difference. And yes! The canines are at the right technological level that, with a little research and development, they can come up with equal armaments. With winter right around the corner, there will not be much time for them to get their opening objectives completed. As for hearing Cynder's reactions to Bradan's stories, it can be done, without making her reactions and conversations with the Dryads redundant. I'm glad you liked what I did with Ember, as she plays a great role in some of the final chapters. Ignitus getting an assistant was more wishful thinking that it was foreshadowing, but I'll see what I can do ;)
To Hunter of City:
I'm glad that you appreciated the world-building that went on. It will pay off much later :) As for the ice dragon not using a fury, well, I can't have every dragon dying do that, which they would have done seeing that one's example. That's not to say that no dragons will use fury attacks for the duration of the war, just not when they were dying. Attacking non-dragons was going to be inevitable, as brought up in this chapter, the dragon army is not solely comprised of just dragons. As for Spyro's role, he will play a part.
Chapter XIII:
Song: United Alliance – Freedom Call
It had been three days since the Battle of Fort Arder, and a detachment of the Buteo regiment was on the move with very little resistance in their way other than the distances between significant locations. Their goal was to establish a forward base of operation that they could launch more attacks from in the future while keeping their spoils of war away from the frontlines. As far as the eye could see, it was a grassy plain that was very featureless. Many had to make the difficult trek by foot, but for those in the cavalry regiment, they didn't have to deal with that burden, their horses dud that for them. As they rode, they had partially doffed their armor and setting them aside, leaving only their chest plates equipped, although the women of the unit were more than eager to loosen the tight-fitting armor.
The horses trotted along rhythmically, not all that different from the sound of a drum beat. In ordinary foot soldier alongside them marching, the sound of their armor add their particular sound adding to the cacophony. It was a nice distraction to the draining task.
The landscape wasn't all that impressive either. The lands that they walked over were mostly featureless full of tall grasses, nothing to marvel at other than the occasional boulder or rock. Those that climbed up the boulders could see much farther than what those on the ground could, and they reported back the same scene: an expanse of grass. But if there was one thing that all soldiers noticed, and that was that they were gaining in elevation, although said gains were slight, and hard to notice at first glance.
Some were talking, others weren't, many were reflecting on the battle that they had just fought. Fort Arder, or Fort Eirwyn as it was dubbed by the Buteos – named after the brigadier general in command of the rag-tag regiment, had become bustling with life – had its facilities commandeered by the Royal Quillian Army. Most of the sleeping quarters of those who were fortunate to take part in the attack had been converted into a triage ward where injuries of all ranges were to treated to the best of what medical staff they had.
The injuries ranged widely in their severity. Those who only had minor cuts and bruises were given the treatment of bed rest and maybe field dressing if there was any to go around. Most of the medical resources were focused on the worst injuries that had been sustained, and there was a lot of those. It was debatable on which element caused the most gruesome of injuries. Fire dragons had caused massive third-degree burns – those of whom affected were given their own room because the smell of singed feathers and cooked flesh was becoming too putrid for others to stand. Ice dragons would give those unfortunate enough to be in their way massive cases of frostbite or froze limbs altogether. Sanitary amputation equipment was becoming hard to find, and hasty, but questionably effective disinfection methods were common. Earth dragons caused massive trauma to the bones of their victims as the force of their attacks were more than enough to fracture a femur with ease. Of what electric dragons were present, paralysis of various stages was not uncommon with their victims. Some recovered from it with physical therapy, others would remain vegetables and be, with a heavy heart, put out of their misery.
However, it was through this encounter that they would learn valuable lessons that will help them in future engagements. They would never grow if they had successes, it takes a failure to see the mistakes that were made and gives the chance to fix those mistakes before it happens again. From this pyrific victory, they grew greater in strength and smarter in mind.
Lyle, Ian, and Erin didn't have all that much to say about their battle. Either they were still in some state of shock over the events that unfolded, or they hadn't had much to say. After much awkward silence, they finally started talking to one another.
"Hey, remember what we said about Kinn on the boat trip here? How it would be hilarious if his "If you die, then it's because you didn't train enough" statement backfired on him. Well, I got word that they found his dog tags." Lyle spoke up, hoping that there would be some conversation to break the bore that was this expanse of grass they had to trek through.
"Oh, so what happened to him? I heard that he was declared missing before." Erin said, her interest peaking at the topic.
"Remember that soldier that was frozen solid by that ice dragon and later smashed into pieces? That was him."
The two other winced. It was a horrible way to go, and unfortunately, that was how Kinn had met his end. They didn't want to know if he was conscious when his body was smashed. Hopefully, he died when his body was frozen rather than when his body was shattered.
"Well, who's our new leader then? We've not heard anything from the command yet?" Erin asked curiously.
"The next rank down would probably be someone left at the fort for guard duty," Ian answered her question, "I've overheard some say that the higher-ups want us and the coming reinforcements to capture as much ground as possible before the month is out. Maybe after that, we can finally form back to our normal ranks instead of being attached to other units."
"That quite a long time for everyone here to be detached from the units that they were initially from." "I know. Your guess is as good as mine."
"You know, there is a reason why we have an organization, and I'm not sure why they would leave units splintered like they are."
"I don't know either."
"Well, what if we make Lyle our new leader for the time being, at least until the military command reorganizes the units together?" Ian's suggestion caught Lyle by surprise. Sure, he had the charisma and some confidence to be a leader, but he technically was still in training and wasn't even supposed to be in Dragon Realms yet.
"You guys, I don't know if I cut out for it or not," Lyle replied nervously.
"You'd make a great leader, Lyle. Don't doubt yourself." Erin replied reassuringly, her supportive side was showing strong. "You'll need a little time to adjust, but I believe that you could do it."
"Yeah, Lyle, I believe in you too," Ian affirmed.
Lyle cracked a small smile. "I'm not sure, guys. I appreciate it, though."
"Oh come on, Lyle, we all believe in you. Let me show you," Erin said to the flustered avian. She pulled back on the reins, and her trained horse responded just like it was supposed to. She rode up alongside the other people on horseback. Everyone on horseback was from the same unit, so they all knew each other in some way, shape, or form.
"Hey, all. Since Kinn is dead, what do you say about making Lyle our new leader?" She asked them all, and they all gave their answers.
"Isn't Lyle that new guy that the Field Martial gave days off due to his proficiency? He still green, but he's got promise. I'd rally behind him," one of the riders said.
"As long as he is better than the asshole that Kinn was."
"He'll need some guidance, but I think he has the making of a good leader."
"I'd much prefer that we have the next in rank take over, but I would like to see the youngster succeed."
Hearing enough, Erin and her horse trotted back up to Ian and Lyle. Lyle judged by the look on Erin's face that there was no way that he could get out of it. After looking back at Ian, who gave him another reassuring nod, Lyle let out a long-winded sigh. He looked off at the grassy plain, deep in thought for a minute before the Buteo puffed out his chest, smiled widely, and gave a small but confident laugh.
"You know what? I think I'll do it."
"I knew you had it in you!" both avians said together, giving the newly appointed leader an extra boost in confidence.
The day from then on wasn't so bad for Lyle or the other cavalry members. That didn't mean that any of the other foot soldiers would have their spirits lightened. They continued to march – or in their case ride – further into the new frontier. Other than the incline becoming slightly steeper, everything was the same as before. An unremarkable plain of nothing. Eventually, the march was halted, and a much-needed rest was called for. Those that were unfortunate to be on foot collapsed with glee onto the grassy bed while the cavalry did the same, although more for the health of their horses than anything else.
The day was still young, and the sun was still high. It was oddly cool, something that they were not accustomed to. It was much warmer back in Quillum, so for it to be noticeably cooler here than it was back home made added to an odd sense of isolation. They were over a thousand miles away from their homes and families, and now in a land that they have never seen before – different plants, animals, and geography. They had each other, but that was it.
Once again, it gave some time to reflect. This time though, Lyle had not been thinking the battle they had won but rather the role that their unit would take in the larger conflict. Warhorses increased their ground mobility significantly, but he pondered how that added mobility would help them in the war effort. A dragon was almost as mobile as one of their horses, greater in strength, and can fly too. That would put the mounted Buteos equal in terms of mobility, but that was the only thing that they could equal. He continued to ponder.
Both of his friends saw him lying down in the grass, a face lost in thought. Erin and Ian were both curious but did not want to break their new leader's concentration, they were still curious as to what he was thinking of. Both of them were thinking about the future that this was going to bring them.
While Ian had joked to Lyle that there was plenty of land for the taking, he was not sure land or wealth is what he desired. Sure, there would be plenty for the taking, but there was something else that he wanted. Perhaps it was the sense of fulfillment that being on this military campaign gave him is all that he wanted. But then what would he do when they won the war when it was all over? Even though there were plenty of unexplored lands here for them to explore, it was known to the dragons. If they eventually won, they would acquire that knowledge of those lands and, therefore making exploration pointless. Ian reassured himself that one day that he would eventually find a purpose and what he wanted.
Unsure of it all, he forced himself to think of what it was exactly what he wanted out of this adventure. The money didn't matter all that much since the salary was being automatically deposited into a bank from the army's treasury office. The land distribution that was likely to take place after the war would guarantee that he would give him a sizable chunk. There were plenty of things that he could do with that land, which would all give him an income that would last him to the day he died. Exploration was also an option that he had at his disposal. Even though there would likely be no need to undergo any expeditions once they get a hold on the geographic information from the dragons, there still might be lands out there that they have yet to explore or settle. There might be wondrous lands out there that have yet to be seen by any eyes, and the thought that he would be the first being to see these lands filled him with excitement.
Erin had more of an idea figured out what she wanted to do. As she had said to them before they left the kingdom, she wanted nothing more than her own humble craft store in her home village. It was a simple thing that most would find reasonable. Remembering back to the battle, there were other species out there with their own unique cultures and crafts. Seeing as how Erin wanted to start a crafts shop of her own, perhaps her time in the Dragon Realms would allow her to find new traditional crafts that she might be able to introduce back to Quillum. There was a degree of uncertainty that came with that, and it would be how open the Quillians back home would receive any of the symbology that had religious significance.
But there was one thing that puzzled her about this land. There was a familiar feeling that this land gave off, one that she knew all to well from her youth. She was brought back to a time when she was young when her mother was training her for a potential life of priesthood, a time where she was steeped in the arts of mysticism and ritual magic. She felt a strange feeling here, one that she recognized before when she meditated in the deepest part of the ancient grove. It was something that she was willing to take the time to solve the mystery if she had the chance.
Meanwhile, Lyle continued to think about the question. As much as he continued to ponder, he was going to need some outside input, and who better to ask than the friends beside him.
"Do you all think that there is a future for the cavalry unit?" He asked both of them. Erin and Ian both gave him a puzzled look in return. Their new unofficial leader was questioning the unit's very existence. Both were unsure about how to answer that question.
"What do you mean by that, Lyle?" Ian was the first to ask.
"Yeah, what are you saying?" Erin quickly interjected before Lyle had a chance to answer Ian.
"Think about it, you two. Cavalry works well if we are fighting with enemies like us: on the ground and lacking in speed. We are fighting dragons who are probably as faster than our horses can gallop, so what is the point of our added mobility?"
The other Buteos were not all that sure how to answer that question. Lyle had a very valid point. If the point of the cavalry was to outmaneuver the enemy, then how can they outmaneuver an enemy that is more mobile than they were? It opened the door for more questions to be asked.
"And even then, we attack with spears that are expected to impale straight through our opponents. We are taught to sling their bodies off of the lance when after they've been impaled, but a dragon is too large and heavy to do that without lances." Erin pointed out, becoming more engaged in the conversation.
"But the dragon can fly too," Ian was quick to point out, "What do we have that can be used against the dragons if they want to launch an attack from the air where they know that we will not be able to hit them with anything?"
"Those are the very questions that I am thinking of right now. We were lucky that we were dismounted days earlier because otherwise, we would stand out as bigger targets riding on horses than on foot."
That was a hard assumption that they had to think about. The trio sat there in the grass waiting, just as lost in thought as Lyle had been. If he was calling the whole unit redundant, then what would come of their occupation if it was no longer a position to be had? What would come of them would most likely be transferring to an infantry unit, the one thing that they were scared of being a part of due to how high the chance of them dying was.
"Then what do you suggest we have instead of this?" Erin said, a tinge of concern in her voice.
"I'm not all that sure to be honest with you, Erin," he replied back coolly, "What I am sure is that against the dragons that we are here to fight, we aren't going to make a difference."
"But what about those other species that fought alongside the dragons? Wouldn't we be effective against them?" Ian was quick to point out. As much as Lyle hated to admit it, Ian was right. But they were here to fight against the dragons, not the other species that were subservient to their will.
"Remember our primary objective, Ian. We are to force the Dragon Realms into surrendering, not to deal with the other species that are subordinate to them."
"But by extension, wouldn't that mean that we are at war with the other species here too?" Erin asked, adding onto all of the questions that Lyle had to think about.
"You certainly could see it that way, but they are not dragons and therefore shouldn't be our first target. If we have to fight them individually as well, then I guess that we will." It was not the answer he wanted to give, but the only one that he could think of. He had a personal reason to want to fight dragons since that black dragon named Cynder killed his father and was an inch away from killing the monarchs, people whom he took an oath to protect when he was sworn into the Royal Army.
Unfortunately, their brief rest had ended, and they mounted their horses again. When the rest of the soldiers got in formation, they began their trek again. It wasn't much, but they had progressed a little under twenty Miles inland when they began their march. Rumors talked about how the leadership wanted to take as much land before the month was out, the regiment's detachment wasn't focused on speed as they were focused on being thorough. The land that they walked over wasn't theirs, and they wanted to make sure that it would remain theirs, or evict those who stood in their way. So far, they had not found any indication that anyone was living here. That was until now.
It wasn't a residence, but it was evident that something had been here before. In the field, off to their left side, was a turquoise colored block half-buried in the ground. In the far distance, they could see large plateaus, some thin spires, others more massive, all of which were just barely above the ground from their perspective, but were probably well above the clouds from where those spires were. It seems these plains were about to get really tall.
/\/\/\
All of those that retreated had made it to the safety of Tall Plains after they had retreated from the battle. From their brief refuge, they were moved closer to Warfang, where there was a little more in terms of medical care. Each one of them has some form of injury from the battle or the retreat from it, and thankfully the infirmary they were put in had plenty of vacant rooms to house them. The medical staff could not believe the story that they were telling.
All of those that worked in the hospital had worked the profession for years and had seen the worst injuries the Dark War gave them. Scarred by what they saw, they were reluctant to believe the story that they were telling them that a new threat is on the horizon and ready to plunge the Dragon Realms into war again. While the staff didn't believe – or want to believe – Ronan, the fox, and Teine were all firm believers.
As much as they wanted to stay in proximity to each other, they were all put in separate enclosed rooms away from each other. When their treatment was finished, they for sure would be able to get back together and ponder what this means for their futures. Closed off in the bland room away from any interaction, Ronan's heart jumped when someone knocked on the door. He welcomed whoever it was in, thinking that it might have been one of the friends, or better yet one of his coworkers that survived the attack. He was disappointed to see that it was neither, but a random dragon that he had not seen before, and another Canine, a coyote dressed in formal uniform attire with a journal and multiple writing utensils. Instead of his heart jumping, it sank.
"You are, Ronan MacNelly, yes?" Asked the dragon in a very formal and serious manner. The coyote cracked open the book and held a pencil ready to write every detail down.
"You are correct. How might I help you?"
"We are here with the Combined Army of The Dragon Realms, commonly abbreviated to The Dragon Army. We are here to question you on the events that have unfolded three days prior," The dragon replied back, still very serious. The coyote began to write down the question world for a word with great speed and intelligibility.
"Was there a fleet of unidentified ships that approached Fort Arder?"
"Yes, ships that I had never seen before."
"The other engineers on the site say that you were a former Skavenger and that you said that those ships were what you called "Ironclads." Is this true?"
"Yes, sir."
"What qualifies a ship a being an ironclad?"
"Well, sir, and Ironclad is a ship that is clad in iron plates on the outside instead of just wood. It adds a lot of protection to the ship against cannon shot."
"How were you able to determine that those ships were ironclads?"
"I saw the glint of metal on these ships in the evening sun. On top o' that, the wooden hulls and superstructures of ships are hardly painted, but treated with oils instead. Those ships were painted."
"Okay."
The dragon looked over at the coyote, who was still in the process of writing down all of the details. When he was finished writing, the canine gave the nod to the dragon. The dragon turned back to Ronan and continued to ask more questions.
"When the ships fired upon the fort, you and the others too shelter in an underground armory, correct?"
"Yes, sir."
"And it was in this armory that you addressed another dragon's injury, the one named Teine. You noticed that there was a metal fragment in her leg. What observations did you make about the injury?"
"Well, the fragment wasn't too big, nor was the wound, but it still produced a nasty injury. The oddity was I've never seen anything shot out of a cannon that explodes before. And the catapults on Warfang's walls aren't really cannons in the traditional sense, using magical power instead of powder charges and cannon shot."
"So you would consider these ships' armaments to be superior to our own, yes?"
"At our current state, yes. If we were to get a hold of one of their cannons, we could have the moles reverse engineer one so that we could have an equal chance."
"Make a note of that," the dragon directed to the coyote, "let's continue."
The questioning session continued for a while, be sure to obtain every last detail possible from the bedded-up wolf. The questions about the battle would be the hardest to answer, not so much that they did poorly, but because they were getting overrun, and they chose to retreat instead of fighting on. When he told the dragon that he and the other survivors retreated, he was received with a scowl. He knew the dragon though of him as a coward for running. Ronan wouldn't be surprised if he found two military policemen at his door to court-martial him for cowardice.
With the questioning over, both dragon and coyote shook his hand and left the room, wherein a nurse cleared him to roam about the infirmary. He was suspecting that it was all a ploy to keep them there so that they could be questioned for later. As he roamed the hallways, he ended up finding both Teine and the fox from earlier sitting in the lobby. Seeing him walk down the hall towards him, they both greeted him cheerfully. Both Ronan and the fox were still in their hospital clothes, where they would receive their original clothing back when they were discharged.
He sat down in an available chair and began speaking with his friends.
"So, Teine, how is that wound of your doin'?" he asked the fire dragoness cordially. She smiled back.
"They healed it up with red gems, but they said that I'll most likely have to deal with the infection from it. I'm bummed about that, but I'm glad that I'm alive and not dead back at that forsaken fort."
"That's good," He replied back, smiling. He turned over to the fox to ask the same thing. "How is your doing, ..."
"Ewan, Ewan Mackenzie," the fox replied, answering the question before Ronan had the time to ask it, "I got a couple of sticks and jabs, but nothing too serious."
"Good, good. I'm guessing that you two also asked questions about what all had happened?" Both dragon and fox nodded their head. Ronan assumed that everyone here had been interviewed about what had happened.
"How were your injuries, Ronan?" Teine asked in the same cordial voice that he had asked her.
"I am thankful that my armor took a lot of the injuries instead of me, but the chainmail is busted, and I'll have to get some a new set."
"And we are a long way from our homelands to some, ain't we now?" Ewan interjected.
"Indeed..." Ronan spaced out for a moment before coming up with a question to ask. "So, what's your story to getting here? How did you make your way to Warfang?"
It took the fox some time to formulate the answer to that, and after a minute of waiting, he found his wording.
"Well, it all kind of involved me and my girlfriend, or rather mine and her parents. She was a Corsac, and I am a Red. We found no problem with our differences and loved each other despite them. Our families, though, they disowned both of us. Knowing that word would spread quickly among the other families, we decided that it was best to leave the canine kingdoms altogether and head for the Warfang, where we knew that we could live our lives without anyone being judgmental of relationship. It was a hard journey for sure. We spent many days in the swamp where the first dragon temple – firewood was hard to come by, but we found some – and hiked over the Argentum mountains, but we finally made it to the city not all that long ago. From there, I got a job in the army because I knew once my time was up, that I could draw a pension from it and draw in some extra income when we start our family someday."
"Aww, that horrible but sweet at the same time," Teine said, stretching and popping her joints.
"That's quite the story, Lad. You should have taken a flying boat to the city instead of making it harder on yourself." Ronan said, a large smile forming on his face. Although he did not have a significant other yet, it was his desire to provide for his family that drove him to join the Skavengers and eventually find his way to the streets of Warfang.
"Perhaps, but you know what, both she and I made were committed, and I feel that because of that, we grew closer as a result. I didn't give up on her, and she didn't give up on me."
"What about you, Teine? How did you end up here?" Ronan asked, curious as to her past. She didn't talk that much about her past, always diverting from the topic when she had the chance. This time, she started to open up a little bit.
"I lost my mate in the Dark War and wanted to take up arms in his place. While I was welcomed into the Dragon Army and was trained to fight like I was going to be on the front, they kept me in reserve and kept me away from combat, putting me here where I was told to build forts instead of defending them. I protested this blatant sexism, but that didn't get me anywhere. I was angry, as many others would have been. But I wasn't going to let that get to me, and so I began to think of it differently. I figured that while I might not be defending a fort directly, I was indirectly defending it by building them as sturdy as I could. That's how I ended up here. It's not what I wanted, but I feel like it was what I needed."
With that, they would continue on, waiting for the others to be cleared before receiving new orders. Perhaps they would get transferred to an infantry group seeing as they all had the infantry training to do it. Perhaps they would be put onto another fort to help construct, or maybe they all would go their own ways where their skills could be best used. Only time would tell.
/\/\/\
Back in Warfang, the blissful ignorance that they all had when it came to know about the invasion had been wholly broken. The worst of all was the scaremongers who only sought to see the chaos of the situation, to take advantage of those gullible enough to panic at their claims. The policing force was overwhelmed by the mass of panicked civilians and had to rely on the deployment of the Dragon Army to help keep the peace. Along with panic about the coming conflict was protests against the current leadership: The Elemental Guardians.
Of course, each city and town had their own governmental leadership, but it was the Guardians that had control over the entirety of the Dragon Realms. However, such a privilege also had its negatives, and that was being blamed and flamed for things that were out of their control. But people needed to find a way to vent their emotions before it exploded out in a tantrum. This invasion was out of their control, but that did not stop the disgruntled population from trying to blame them for the successful attack and capture of Fort Arder, or the criticisms of the fort's location.
Nevertheless, they, along with a still agitated Spyro, had to attend another meeting where they would be able to hear the first details of the war they were not expecting to fight. It was in the same room that they had been in before, albeit this time there were fewer people present than there was the massive gathering that was the second meeting of the civilian and military leadership. But of those fewer people present, there were more influential members present. In the audience were chieftains of the Cheetas and Atlawa, Envoys from the aligned Canine kingdoms, and representatives of the various mole groups. This wasn't just about the Dragon Army, but about all of the allies the Realms' disposal.
There too, in the audience was Firdin, who was in an indeterminate emotional state. It was easy to see that he was in a state of anger, fear, disgust, but somehow remained optimistic at the same time. It was clear that he was not happy that one of his new forts had been shelled and captured, nor did he want to fight another war, but it allowed him to grow and learn. He didn't want to fight, but he was willing to if he needed to.
"As you probably already know, the news of the attack on the newly constructed Fort Arder has come under attack by what we can only assume is the Hawks that the Chronicler alerted us to – or rather our dragons to now alert you all," Terrador began. He was the easiest one to commune between the two groups. "Of what information that we have, they intent on these attacks to continue further, more so than the skirmishes that continue to plague all of our communities."
"Ours especially," Hunter was quick to point out, "most of the skirmishes that have occurred against Cheetah villages and towns. I do not discount the impact on the other respective communities, but we have seen the worst of it."
"Even worse is that we now suspect that those involved in the skirmishes based on the finding on dead bodies were also espionage agents. I fear that our foe has a significant amount of intelligence information on all of us. I also believe that the majority of the attacks on the Cheetah villages are because of our close relationship and that your assets are, by extension, our assets."
"That would be a fair assessment looking at our past," Hunter said, dissatisfied with that answer. Many cheetahs were killed as a result of the skirmishes, as well as a large loss of property. Compared to the losses that the Atlawa, Canines, and Dragons experienced, it was not nearly as bad as it was to the Cheetahs.
"So, what do you suggest that we start doing? If this is a threat to you reptiles, then it might as well be a threat to all of us." A canine spoke up.
Volteer was first to answer him with the swiftest of logical replies. "I would suggest that all autonomous regions prepare themselves in defense of their lands in an equal endeavor," he said. That was the interesting thing about the Dragon Realms. Technically, the confederacy of Cheetah townships, the various Canine kingdoms, and the tribes of the Atlawa was part of the Dragon Realms. However, they were seen as their own enclaves within the Realms, being capable of self-governance.
"But why are these hawks wanting to fight a war with us? Do they not know about our struggle only months previous?" A canine envoy asked, still dumbfounded that there was another war right around the door.
"There is an ocean separating them and us. There is no way that they could have known about our struggles here when there has been no recovered record from the Dark Army even mentioning them in any way shape or form," Pyra answered the question with utmost confidence. She really did do her homework when it came to the situation that was facing them.
"Unless we can get a better understanding of how large of a threat this is to the Dragon Realms, we should all treat it like the Dark Armies have returned for round two." Terrador deadpanned. "We cannot do this alone, only when there is a United Alliance between us all, then we can overcome this threat and secure these lands from any further outside danger."
The room buzzed with discussion over that statement. What exactly did Terrador mean by a "united alliance?" Each autonomous region provided their support in the Dark War, what makes him think that there was not an alliance uniting them all? Another Canine envoy raised his voice to ask that question.
"Terrador, what do you mean by a "united alliance" exactly? We all provided what we could during the Dark War, so we are already united in an alliance in that regard. How would this be different than what we have done prior?" The kingdom that the Canine came from had only recently allied themselves with the rest of the Dragon Realms, but very cautiously at that. It was the fear that their sovereignty would be taken away that fueled their skepticism. If there was anything that would suggest that, then his kingdom would break their ties with the Dragon Realms.
"A much more integrated alliance. I know that your kingdom is concerned with losing sovereignty, and I can reassure you that there will be none of that. What this will mean is that the Realms will strengthen our relationship with our allies. We will protect your lands as if they were our own, we will provide aid in all disasters that require specitarian aid, and we will open up further trade opportunities. The only thing that we as is for you to reciprocate in return."
Terrador's answer caused an even bigger stir. For the Cheetahs and the Canine Kingdoms, this was a lucrative deal. The Cheetahs were already close allies with the Dragons, so this wouldn't be all that different than how things were already were. All of the Canine envoys were intrigued by the offer. The kingdoms themselves were self-sufficient entities that could sustain their own growth internally. With this offer, they could grow larger and faster than ever before. Some of them were quietly snickering as they thought of the ways that they could exploit that against the non-aligned kingdoms.
"What if we reject your offer?" Hunter said, playing devil's advocate, "what will become of those potential allies?" The dragons in the room gave Hunter a very shocked look. Surely their closest ally would not abandon them. In silent response, Hunter shook his head slightly, bringing relief to the dragon in the room.
"Then they would not reap the benefits of the rewards, nor would they be given the opportunity to," Terrador replied. The way he presented it was genius. He was dangling a juicy carrot in front of them, and those that took the bait would reap the rewards. Those that refused the bait would be subsequently removed from any further opportunities for it. All of those in the crowd was smart enough to know what he was implying and had no other option.
Volteer was quick to bring up a motion before anyone could continue the discussion. "I make a motion to vote for your respective regional leaders to consider the initiative, and to convene back again here at a later date."
One by one, each of the representatives raised their hands, each agreeing to the conditions given to them. All of the Guardians were happy with the results. The wording was key, and nobody knew that better than Volteer. By the nature of the meeting, they all had to bring back what was discussed to their region's respective leaders. The meeting was adjourned soon after that, letting all of the representatives off to return to their respective regions and for those in the military command to deliberate on how to go about the response to the invasion.
Everyone cleared out of the room, but Firdin was once again left with the final say in what was needed to secure the best outcome for the Realms. Here in the silence of the conference hall, he deliberated on what to do next. Given now that the public knows about the invasion, there will be cries to fully mobilize by fearful civilians. However, there is a contingent of people who were staunchly opposed to the war, seeing as how many decades of war had been fought against the Dark Armies. The last thing that he wanted to deal with was a split in the populace that would result in violence between the two factions, bringing the Dragon Realms into a bloody civil war where the peace and war groups ironically were the ones fighting each other.
After some time, he finally came to a conclusion. Logistically, there was no reason to throw the entire army at the hawks, but at the same time, they would need more than just a platoon to deal with the coming invasion. Two companies of dragon soldiers from the Dragon Army should be more than enough to quash the invasion force where it was without any problem given that dragons were both physically and magically superior to the hawks that they now faced. With that made up in his mind, he exited the temple and, with a determined pace, walked to the place of his office: the Citadel.
The Citadel was a newer structure in the ancient city, being constructed to be a safe haven to the city and realm wide government positions, as well as their immediate families, as well as being a command center for the Dragon Army as a whole. The thick walls of the structure were made of the strongest stone block that could be found, along with concrete and metal reinforcement. Those involved in the construction boasted that not even the Golem that assaulted the city could break through its walls.
The security detail was also tight, with well over one hundred soldiers from each species filling the ranks with soldiers of all different manners of skills. Being easily recognizable, he was allowed entry without any trouble whatsoever. Strolling down the halls, he eventually made it to his office, where he drafted his order. It was a simple draft, but they were as clear and concise as they get.
Orders
Two battalions of all-dragon soldiers to be deployed to the area of Tall Plains to intercept and destroy the Hawkish invasion force. The two companies are to be accommodated by the logistics branch, as well as another battalion of mixed-species units. Other reinforcements not easily available.
/\/\/\
When the left the third gathering was over, Spyro made his way to the training room, dojo, or whatever anyone wanted to. If he was forced to get involved in a war that he did not want to fight, then he might as well prepare himself for it. The commemorative statue of him and Cynder with a flip of a switch was lowered into the ground, and the thick floor closed over the stature one it was fully retracted. The dummy targets were easy to manifest, as a simple thought was enough to summon ten or more of them. He didn't know where to start.
He was not partial to any of the elemental breath attacks, nor was he willing to use Aether and risk any unnecessary damage to the temple or the surrounding city. He wasn't too partial to physical attacks either. Honestly, once he strayed from the warrior's path, it was hard to get back on it. That said, if he wanted to get back on the warrior's path, he would have to start back at the basics. And like that time that he breathed fire in the swamp when Sparx was about to be smashed, he channeled his bodily reserves of magic and let lose a stream of flames into the magical dummies. The dummies were shape of the apes that he had fought in mass so long ago, it brought back time that he missed, the time where he wasn't the center of attention, the time that he wasn't important – well, not as important as he was supposed to be – and most of all the time that there was a world to save. The world was not at stake here, and it seems that this war that the Guardians tried to keep secret from him for so long was going to be more of a petty matter than a world-threatening one.
The dummies, made of straw and held together by burlap, were easily burned away without much of a struggle. Spraying fire was the easy part, but there were more advanced techniques that he had learned that he was not going to let to waste. It had been a long time since he had last shot a fireball almost five years ago since his battle with Cynder when she was evil. It took time, but bit by bit, he relearned the technique that served well in many occasions. Instead of the straw dummies being reduced to ash, they were blown to bits by the exploding fireballs.
Comet dashing was another technique that had not used in a while, more so that there was no great utilitarian purpose to the technique. Off the top of Spyro's head, he could think of one practical application for it, and that was to travel fast between two points. The duration of the dash was all dependent on how proficient one was with the technique, as well as how efficiently they could use their mana. As fast as one could dash, they might even beat someone like Cynder in a flying race if they could sustain the technique for long enough. He cast these thoughts aside as he practiced the technique against the dummies from various angles and attack chains that would finish the foe with one. Feeling confident again with his fire capabilities, he moved onto the next element, electricity.
Ironically, this one gave him chills, not from the actual element itself, but from the horrible memory that was having to dredge through Dante's Freezer. Just like before, it was training with the first ability that he learned: plain old electric breath. The arcs of electricity shot from his mouth made contact with the targets, they shook violently, and were able to be tossed around with ease. Out of all of the breaths that he breathed, this one was the most entertaining as he could easily throw a dummy in the air or against the wall. But after each arc of electricity, the straw would always ignite due to the heat produced. While not a good way to cause damage through burns, it was an added and welcomed secondary effect.
Firing off electric arcs and orbs was similar in principle, but in execution was very different. While one would hone in on a target of Spyro's choice, the other could be cast in their direction and wait before detonating the orb, releasing a large amount of electrical energy. It was an interesting chain of attacks to use the orb first to send an opponent into the air, then use the arcs to hone in on the target and deal more damage. Against the straw, it really did not hurt it all that much. If this was a living organism and not a magically enchanted burlap sack of straw, there would be serious damage to the nervous system to the unfortunate victim. The electric whirlwind wasn't all that useful but was practiced nevertheless.
After dealing with all of the heat, either directly by fire or indirectly by electricity, Spyro using his control over ice, and by extension, water was a great way to cool down. Against another wave of straw-filled enemies, Spyro released a blast of cold air and sheets of ice – more like frigid snow. The dummies now encased with ice was a prime target for melee attacks, that would not only shatter the ice but also damage any frozen tissues that a living creature would have. Shooting ice shards was fun, too, as it was the equivalent of spitting on someone. Some of the shards passed straight through the dummies and impacted hard against the stone walls. Spyro winced at just how much one shard damaged the fine masonry. Nothing that a little earth magic would fix. After that, some polar bombs and ice tail attacks, which was debatable on how useful they would be situations where allied soldiers would be close and therefore be at risk of being hit as well.
Finally, there was the earth breath. Earth shot was easy enough, being the basic earth-based attack that all earth dragons learn. Given enough mana, and the attack was easily exploitable when used in quick succession. Earth bombs were a strange technique to use. While it did do damage when the bomb explodes, it created a small whirlwind that enemies can get sucked up into, straying into the category of wind magic, the kind that as of right now only Cynder knows. Perhaps there was some connection had between the two elements. Earth Flail was another entertaining attack to use, as the faster one spins, the harder the attack will hit. It also could be great for breaching walls, the spiderweb cracking in the wall was evident enough where Spyro misjudged distances between him and the wall. Earth pound too was useful, but also damaged the floor below him in the process.
Once Spyro had gone through all of the respective elements, he channeled his earth element into repairing the damage to the stonework. From the cracks, a green light glowed through, slowly closing up the cracks and restoring any potential lost etchings and symbols that were adorned upon them. With a heavy, exhausted sigh, he laid down on the stone floor. Unsure of how long he had been actually training for, Spyro could only assume he spent an hour. He was unsure how many of the dummies that he trashed, but was sure that it numbered over one-hundred or more. In his moment of exhaustion, a voice cheeped into his head.
"Tired after only that? How pathetic," the voice – an all too familiar one at that – called out to him, "That is nothing but a walk in the park compared to what I'm capable of."
"Great, you again… I thought you said that you would quit bothering me," Spyro replies quietly out loud, hoping not to garner any attention from certain unwanted dragons.
"I never said that I wouldn't commune with you, so get used to it."
"Then what about this moment made you decide to become a voice in my head?"
"I am always here, regardless if you like it or not."
"So does that mean that you've experienced everything I have too? Or can you selectively chose what you want to experience?" Spyro didn't want to know the answer to that question if he did or not. That means that whatever Dark Spyro, or Nyobaer as he calls himself, knows more about himself that he would like to disclose to others.
"I know that you are getting lustful without that excuse of a mate to relieve you."
"For one, that's too personal. Two, that's perverted as fuck that you were… watching? Experiencing? Or whatever it is that allows you to know. Three, we both agreed to do it, I'm not some kind of animal." Spyro replied, blushing heavily that this entity had watched him and Cynder in bed before.
"If I had a choice in the matter, then I wouldn't have. But through circumstances that I am not in control of, it seems that I feel all that you feel and experience all that you experience," The voice in Spyro's head sighed. Even as much power as Nyobaer had over his slumbering world, even he had his limitations. Why would an entity like that have limitations if he was capable of doing so much?
"So why are you talking to me now? If you want to be friends, then I hate to break it to you, but I don't think that it's going to work out since you killed me dozens of times each night that I rested."
"Because I am bored. Killing you was the only form of entertainment that I had, so the next best option was to open up a little bit."
"Well, you're not welcomed, so the best thing that you can do is shut your mouth and creep back into where ever the fuck you came from!" Spyro shouted in frustration, not paying attention to the opening door. His heart sank to the ground to see Cyril walking into the room, praying to the ancestors that he did not hear anything, and especially not that last part.
"Why hello there, young one. Honing your skills with ice, I presume?" Cyril asked with not indication of offense. Perhaps the walls were thicker than Spyro thought.
"Ehh, something like that. It was a little bit of everything really, more so a refresher. It has been a while since I had used any of the elements in combat situations." He shifted nervously on the floor, tail almost tucked between his legs.
"That's fair. Do you wish for me to assist you in learning the advanced techniques?"
Spyro was broken on that decision. On one part, he still despised the Guardians for how they had done him, but at the same time, this was also the opportunity to help rebuild that bridge, even if it was with only one of them. But being out of shape magically speaking was not working in his favor, and some time was needed before he was going to do anything advanced, or rather more advance than the techniques that he had been taught.
"I think I will take you up on that offer later. I'm quite exhausted as it is right now."
"Spectacular! When shall we undertake this appointment?"
"How about the day after tomorrow? Can that be done?"
"I will assure it. I have to be off, I have a rendezvous in the city." The Ice dragon did his best to suppress a smile.
"I thought that you were too old to be going out on dates." The young dragon quipped, a slight bit of smartass in his voice.
"Not like that, young one. But perhaps someday I and the others will have the time to settle down. And we aren't that old either."
"Okay, okay. I'll take your word on it," Spyro said jokingly, not really believing Cyril's claims.
"I will see you then, Spyro," Cyril said, walking to the other side of the room to the other door. As the door opened and Cyril was walking out, Spyro had one more thing to say before he left.
"Hey, Cyril. About that training. Could you ask the other Guardians if they won't join in as well? I'm sure that I don't need to let the other elements fall by the wayside."
"I will make sure of it, young dragon!" Cyril smiled gleefully when he heard that. Things might finally be improving between the purple dragon and the masters of the elements. Just like Spyro, there was another thing that Cyril had to ask. "I know you have been deeply disappointed with us because we sheltered you from the truth. I don't blame you if you do, but do you hate us now because of that?"
"I will be honest with you, I do, I really do. Be in my paw prints for a moment, and you'll see why. The love of my life has gone to a far-off land to stop this war, but it seems that Cynder failed. Their army is now on our shores, and I've yet to hear even a whisper about her whereabouts. So I have to assume the worst-case scenario is that she has been killed, and I am going to get involved in a petty war that I have not the slightest clue of information about."
"I completely understand how you feel. Being honest with you, it was one of the hardest decisions that we had ever made. At the time, you were suffering from one crisis after another, and we wanted to make it easier to you by letting you into it easily, not like what was done at the second meeting that you had to attend."
"It won't be like that forever, though. The damage has been done, and there is no changing that, but that doesn't mean that the damage cannot be fixed."
"Is there anything that can be done to help mend those wounds faster?"
"Just keep me informed this time. It will still take time for those wounds to heal."
Cyril gave a reassuring nod, and Spyro gave one back. They both went on their respective ways, Cyril to his rendezvous, and Spyro remained on the floor for a while longer before leaving, flipping the leaver that would raise the statue back up into the room. He was unsure of the mechanism of its operation, but foot by boot, the large statue rose up into the room. The statue locked in place with an audible thud. He stared at the statue of Cynder for a while. He missed her and hoped that she was alive out there. Although day by day, the chances of that continued to drop. It was not often that he genuinely prayed to the Ancestors, only when he was at his lowest. He took this opportunity to pray.
He prayed for Cynder's well being, her safety, and maybe for her eventual return, all while gazing at her statue on the pedestal. He wished to see her distinctive silhouette on a sky-blue backdrop one day, and that the love of his life will once again be with him. The irony was that the object of his focus was what Cynder had become physically.
/\/\/\
Ember ran down the street as fast as her legs could carry her. From her family's apartment home, she had to run halfway across the city to get to the apothecary's shope where Lady Marne would be found. If there was one inconvenience in her life, this would have to be it. This wasn't nearly as bad though, as she had to run through multiple districts to get there, she could see what activities are going on this evening, as well as what was new on the market and bazaar. Right now, though, her priorities were to continue her apprenticeship. The shop was in the old part of town, the most rustic and beautiful part of the city.
The apothecary's shope was a quaint little building, with the second floor being the residence of the shope's owner, while the bottom half was all for business. The stonework of the right color and worn state that gave the building a homey feel to it, one that had been lived in and took care of. Around back was a garden where various herbs and spices where grown, most of which were used in the process of making medicines, but some of the others were used to spice up the residence's evening meals. Ember eventually made it and walked in through the old oaken door, a slight creaking noise accompanying her in. The shope's interior had a nice charm to it, with its appearances well maintained. The scent though, was one of the reasons for Ember to continuously return, with an always fragrant aroma present in the shope.
"Ahh, Ember. It's nice to see you again," Lady Marne greeted her with a smile. She had watched her approach as she was tending to a pot of flowers she had set in the window. Ember couldn't tell if she was joking or genuine with that. After all, Ember was late to arrive.
"It is my fault for being so late, Lady. I will be sure to do better next time." The pink dragon said in a sincere tone, differing from her normal self.
"Don't worry about it too much, Ember. You are the only dragon out this whole city that has approached me for an apprenticeship. As long as the shope is open, I welcome you anytime in your pursuits."
"Th-thank you for being so forgiving of me. I will try to do better to arrive earlier."
"I appreciate your dedication," Lady Marne said, giggling a little and smiling, "come now, we have some work to do." She walked behind the counter and into a room closed off the public eye. Ember followed her. This room is where the magic happened. From here, extracts from plants, animals, minerals, and even spirit gems came together to become medicines that would treat almost any illness.
"So, what are we going to do today?" Ember asked, excited to learn something practical, something that the normal schooling system didn't really provide, and something peaceful that elemental training does not emphasize all that well.
"Today, we are going to be making a remedy that will help with headaches. It's not an advanced medicine, but for your current level of expertise, it should be easy to craft."
Lady Marne had gone about teaching Ember in baby steps. Medicine making was a very complex and very difficult field to break into. Lady Marne had inherited the occupation from her parents, and their parents as well, learning the trade well from both before they passed on. For Ember to join the occupation at her current age, eighteen, it would be harder on the child, for Lady Marne in the same amount of time was already crafting some of the simpler complex medicines, and had knowledge of one hundred plants and how each of them reacted with each other in various combinations and quantities. That was not to say that Ember would never become equal to her, far from it. Ember was a fast learner once she found what she was truly interested in.
"I'll gather the ingredients. You gather up the equipment that we will need for today." Lady Marne said, Ember responding gleefully, gathering up all of the needed equipment.
A mortal and pestle, beakers, tubes, and vials; the measuring scales, and more were all gathered up from an equipment cabinet while Lady Marne gathered the ingredients available from other shelves, or would go out to the garden and pick the carefully grown and labeled plants. Ember already had the equipment set up and ready to go for the process when Lady Marne walked back into the room on her hind legs, with a paw full of ingredients in one and a large codex on the various medicine formulas in the other. She rigorously checked to ensure that Ember had set up the equipment properly, and was ready to have a little fun with her over a small mistake that even she, a master apothecary, makes often.
"What are you missing?" She asked the excited pink dragon. Ember was quick to look a the equipment as well as the old formula book. After looking over it multiple times, the young and studious dragon was stumped.
"I cannot find anything wrong with this set-up, my lady."
"Are you sure? Look again..."
Once again, the young dragon combed through the book, following step-by-step directions like she was taught to do, and looked back to check her own equipment again. After five minutes of carefully looking back over their equipment, Ember had her eureka moment.
"I think I figured it out, my lady." The pink dragon said, looking back and the navy blue dragon watching over her.
"Go on, tell me what you think."
"I got these tubes and vials, but no rack to put them in to keep them from spilling their contents."
The water dragon smiled and nodded her head. "Excellent work! Even I forget about it every now and then. Let this be a lesson to you that even small things can make a big difference. I know that is a very cliche thing to say, but it really does help, especially if you have to work with liquids and solids."
Ember swiftly went back to the equipment cabinet and retrieved the rack to put the vials and tubes in. Even though there were no liquids aside from water involved in this procedure, there were a handful of ingredients, some of which were in very small amounts. "I think I'm ready," She said.
"Alrighty, then, let's get to it."
Little did Ember know that this was a test, one to see if she could follow directions and procedures, as well as using the codex properly. Too much on one ingredient or a look-alike plant could turn a life-saving medicine into a very toxic poison. That is why she picked freshly grown ingredients instead of those that were already ready to use and on the shelves. The first important ingredient was the water that was needed. This medicine came in the form of a potion and therefore needed to be drinkable. The pink dragon secured the water in the stereotypical potion bottle and set them off to the side as she would not need it until later.
From there, she followed the codex's instructions on formulating the drug and started preparing the various plants. Thankfully, the ready-to-use plants were labeled and were not that hard to start weighing and preparing the ingredients. Some required to be ground up into a paste, other not so much, some not at all. The tricky part came when it was time to identify the various garden plants. The codex used had an index on plants and their medicinal and potentially harmful properties. Basic knowledge went a long way, and she was able to start matching up the picked plants with their respective index entries. There was, however, one intentional look-alike plant that Ember would have to use other means of determining which one is which. Some were as simple as a scratch and sniff method, others were not as easy and required a little more time and effort to positively identify.
Confident in her matches, she continued on. When it came time to start brewing the potion, she would use her own elemental magic to heat up and brew, a technique that was not preferred, but acceptable by Lady Marne. She carefully added the ingredients to the beaker and held it up, where she focused her magic somewhere else besides her breath. Holding the bottle with one hand and holding one under it, she willed a flame in the palm of her hand. Ember's own fire would not hurt her, nor it hot enough to burn her hand over the tiny flames or grasping the bottle. Once the potion started to bubble vigorously, Ember dispelled the flames and let the potion cool. When the glass was cool to the touch, she presented the potion to the master.
"Did I do right?" she asked nervously, hoping that she had done everything correctly.
"I'm proud of you, Ember. You even took extra steps to ensure that the freshly picked plants were the proper ones."
"I-I can't believe I actually did it," Ember said with relief, the stress of the situation wearing off and being replaced with a sense of accomplishment.
"Did you find which one of the garden plants was the poisonous ones?" Lady Marne replied, holding one of the plants in her paws, twirling it around in the air while she waited for the answer.
"It was that one in you paw," Ember replied confidently.
"Are you sure about that?" Lady Marne tossed the garden plant into her mouth and started chewing to the absolute horror of Ember. "There was none. I use this to spice up my stews." She said, swallowing the vegetable.
"But how?"
"You were too busy trying to identify the plant that you never looked into the toxicology. They were all edible plants. Let them be a lesson to always check every aspect. Other than that, you passed my little test with flying colors."
Both Ember and Lady Marne laughed. Both of their days had been made. Ember was one Step closer to realizing her dreams
/\/\/\
The ships of the cruisers of the invasion fleet had a little bit of wiggle room when it came to what they were tasked now that they were not needed to bombard the shore. Some set sail back to Quillum with empty transport boats with the goal of one day returning. Some stayed and guarded the fort against any potential attacks from the ocean; others let their crew do whatever their crew wanted to do as long as the captain and commodore approved of the action. One of the actions was to sail along the coastline for patrolling and exploration purposes. Ryan's ship was lucky to be the one that was out exploring along the coastline.
They had to be mindful of how far they traveled, there was a limited amount of coal to go around for their boilers here in the realms. Until they could set up extraction operations, their only source of coal was over a thousand miles away from them. If they did run out, they could unfurl an emergency sail to allow them to sail without the power of their steam engines. But these were ships that were engineered from the beginning to be powered by steam and steam only, so the speed that would be generated by these sails would be minuscule and only enough to limp her in the general direction for coalier ships to provide them with more fuel.
To mitigate this, the captain of the ship was smart with his fuel and only allowed for the ship to go at the speed at which it was most efficient: around 8 knots of speed. Even with the ship able to travel over seven-thousand nautical miles, they still conserved their fuel in case there was a mission that was ordered or if they were ordered back to Quillum for any reason. Thankfully, some collier ships remained with them loaded with the precious fuel.
As the ship sailed along, they remained close to the shore as to not get lost in unfamiliar waters, a fate that none of them ever wanted to die from, as there was no telling when their bodies would ever be found, nor would the ship. So far, they had only gone fifty nautical miles away from the coastal fort, making sure that they did not stray too far, but were far enough out to remain in a lookout position. Frankly, it was quite boring to watch from the weather deck. Other than the shore from which they based their navigation, there was nothing but open sea and clear skies.
Ryan wasn't all that amused by it, secretly wanting to have been ordered off the boat and into the fort where he would spend a much wanted leave. But that's not how life worked, and of what he had heard from the other sailors that visited the other ships, the fort was no place to be at the moment. It was not only a damaged mess that in some places posed a great risk to the occupants, but it was also housing all of the injured soldiers from the battle to take the fort. He also heard stories that it would take the corps of engineers weeks, if not months, to rebuild and expand upon the fort to accommodate the needs of the invasion. As far as anyone else knew, this was their only site to unload soldiers and dock boats.
Nevertheless, he looked for something to do. There was plenty of bait and tackle on board to catch the native fish, which a good handful was trying to do, but with the moving ship, it would be much easier to throw out a net, but that was something that the fishing vessels had, and they did not. As his thoughts lingered on the thought of a freshly grilled fish, his thoughts meandered to a much darker topic. What if one of the supply ships carrying food is late? That was surely put everyone on edge as their rations would surely be halved as they desperately waited for the ship carrying food arrived. To supplement their own rations, the navy ships might have to resort to fishing instead of fighting to keep Quillum's best from dying from starvation. There would have to be localized production of food that not happen, which would mean bringing civilians over to do the work for them.
Ryan entertained the thought of bringing civilians to the Dragon Realms for a bit. There very well could be a need for it. But at this stage of the war? Not so much. As it stood, there were too many risks for the Royal Army to bring civilians over. They barely had any land firmly in their control here, nor did they have the number of soldiers needed to defend all of those civilians if there was an attack that threatened their lives. They would need to capture more territory for that to be feasible, and there had to enough land to cultivate for food and enough for mining operations the needed coal.
Thoughts like these continued to bounce around in Ryan's head until there was a commotion from one of the observation points on the mast. Vaguely, he could hardly hear the words shouted, most of the sound was directed into one of the speaking tubes. "Sir, unidentified ship to our two o'clock!" the voice shouted. Those on the weather deck that heard the lookout shout those words immediately knew what was about to happen, and they were already making their way to their battle stations. It wasn't long after that the whistle was blown, signaling for general quarters. Ryan had already made his way to the six-inch gun on deck and was met by the other crewman shortly after.
A hatch from below deck opened up, and a shell was hoisted from the protected magazine below and on deck to be loaded, then followed by a powder bag right after. Ryan unlocked and swung open the gun breach, and lifted the shell away from the chute and rammed it into the gun, then followed by the powder charge. Once the loading was complete, he swung the breach closed and locked it.
"Up!" Ryan called out, a shout that he could hear from the three-inch guns along the port and starboard sides of the ship. The waited for orders from the speaking tube connecting them to the conning tower, where the ship's command structure would be protected during the attack.
The light cruiser turned, increasing speed to ahead flank. They were going to intercept this boat, and most likely, they were going to sink it too. As it turns out, the ship was actually traveling towards them as well. As the unidentified ship came closer into view, they could tell that it was a wooden ship with plenty of sails. Quillum still used wooden ships powered by sail, but this particular style unknown to them – a ship identification test was required for the navy – for both military and civilian ships. A scout had been ordered to get a close view of the ship and to determine if this was a friendly ship that had gone astray if this was a ship that they had to sink. As the scout spread their wings and took flight to observe the wooden ship, everyone was getting increasingly anxious that they would be within the range of their armaments before the scout could get back, giving up their edge in the process.
Although it was not procedure to do so, the gunner started to train the gun onto the ship, aligning it with the gunsights. The gun captain peered at the ship with his binoculars to get a better idea of what kind of ship they were dealing with. Although there was confirmed identification on the ship just yet, what he could notice from the best perspective that he could achieve was that the crew of that ship had noticed there, and if it was a navy vessel, was preparing to engage with the Quillian light cruiser. Nobody knew the capabilities of the opposing vessel's armaments, and could very well be within range; they were fast approaching the effective engagement distance of their cannons. The gunners were all eager to pull the lanyards and send shells in that ship's direction. They would get their answer soon as the scout was swift in flight and returned to the light cruiser.
All of the gun crew anxiously waited for the orders to be given, and it wasn't long before an enraged voice called across the speaking tube, delivering the orders to the guns. The voice on the other side called out: "Send that ship to Hell!" The gunners were more than eager to. Ryan's gunner pulled the lanyard. A loud boom followed by an intense heat erupted from the six-inch gun as a shell was on its way to the now-designated enemy ship. The shell from their gun impacted the ship, while the other guns shot either short or over the wooden vessel. The magazine hatch opened again, and another shell was passed through the tube and passed to Ryan.
They fired another shot, missing this time, but other guns hitting their marks. By now, the other ship had responded, turning broadside and presenting its guns to the light cruiser. They could see puffs of smoke shoot from the side of the ship, each of its cannons firing successively one after the other. In their panic to return fire, they had not closed enough distance for their armaments to pose a threat to the light cruiser. They would soon correct that mistake and turned to face bow-on to the light cruiser. It was a smart move for the captain of that ship to position his ship like that, as it provided the least amount of area for the Quillian guns to fire upon it.
As they continued to lob shells to the wooden ship, Ryan got to wondering if they were doing much damage at all. The shells that they had been passed were armor-piercing shells, shells designed to go through armor before a bursting charge within the shell exploded. If that ship was made thoroughly of wood, there the impact against the fuses might not even be enough to arm the shells, so all they were doing was passing through dozens of planks in one end and right out of the other. He thought that perhaps if they shot high explosive shells that maybe the fuses would arm and explode, doing actual damage rather than just punching holes. A speaking tube connected them to the magazine, and he promptly shouted an order down the tube without first consulting the gun captain first.
"Give he high explosive from now until we cease firing!" he shouted, getting a less than welcoming response from the gun captain.
"Only I can give that order! What the fuck are you thinking, Ryan?!" He shouted in his the Buteo's face.
Hoping that his somewhat logical reasoning would change his mind, Ryan replied back. "There's no way the fuse on those armor-piercing shells is detonating. Maybe the fuse on the high explosive shells are sensitive enough to explode and let us deal some actual damage to that thing," he replied, hoping that his superior officer would understand his position. He did not.
"How would you know, wise ass? For all we know, that ship might be a galleon, and those shells could be exploding withing without any problem at all!"
"But we could be doing more damage to those ships if we shot high explosive at them, maybe even set them on fire while we are at it!"
"We need to damage the interior of that ship as much as possible so the whole thing will collapse onto itself. Do you have any idea how long it will take for one little fire to burn when those things are so tightly compartmentalized? I don't fucking think so!" The gun captain stormed over to the speaking tube and sent a counter order back to the magazine, but has already sent another shell up, which was high explosive just like Ryan had ordered it to be. He swiftly loaded the shell in before the gun captain could do anything to stop him.
"Up!" Ryan shouted, waiting for the order to fire, which the stubborn and control-happy gun captain was not willing to answer back to. After waiting for several seconds, Ryan had to think of a different solution to get the shell fired. In a method that could be directly taken from a newspaper cartoon, he faked tripped over himself and shoved the gunner, who was holding the lanyard in his hands. Falling over, the gunner unintentionally pulled the lanyard, firing the gun.
"Sorry, man, didn't mean to!" Ryan yelled at the gunner, winking as he did so.
"Ryan, I'll have you court-marshaled for this!" the angry gun captain yelled. Ryan only had moments to look over and see if the shell made any impact or not, and it did. Just like he had predicted, the shell exploded, as evident by smoke from the explosion billowed from the weather deck of the opposing ship. That didn't change the opinion of the infuriated gun captain.
By then, the two ships had closed significantly, allowing for the two three-inch guns facing the wooden boat to fire off their shots. Realizing the danger that was now posed to the ship, the captain put the ship into reverse, hoping to have the ship slow down enough and revers to avoid potential damage. The three-inch guns fired once again, and judging by the tracers in the base of the shell, they were shooting high explosive shells. That confused Ryan as he had thought that they would be shooting their armor-piercing shells as well, given that that was what the other three six-inch guns were shooting. Maybe it was just a loading mistake. He observed the next set of shells fire off from the three-inch guns, and they again high explosive. Reporting that to his superior, he still refused to change his stance on the matter. Ryan continued to do his job, loading from then on only armor-piercing shells.
The galleon once again let loose a salvo of shots. Given that the enemy ship was using old muzzle-loading cannons, there was no telling where the shot was going to go with any certainty at the range they were at. Out of the twenty guns, the opposing ship fired – separated by a gun deck with ten on the upper gun deck and ten on the lower – three of the shots hit the armor belt and dealt quite the punch, but did not penetrate. Two others hit the superstructure, which did deal damage to those respective areas. One of the shots fell short but bounced off the surface of the water, and was headed straight for the forward six-inch gun. All but one jumped out of the way, and only one would be killed. Ryan looked to see if his crew were okay, and found that the person who had been antagonizing him had was laying on the deck or the two halves of him. The shot had hit the poor soldier in the stomach, and with great force, cleaved him in half. Ironic was his last words, as it would be something that he was now unable to do. Next in rank was Ryan, and we would divert back to the tactic that he was postulated would be most effective, and got to work doing it.
He happily loaded a high explosive shell into the gun. "Up!" Ryan shouted, soon followed by other words that he was always eager to say himself, "fire!"
The high-explosive shell was sent a short way across the water and into the other ship, this time resulting in some devastating damage. He assumed that he might have hit one of the guns as the shell exploded, sending many planks of wood from the long hallway that housed all of the cannons of the opposing ship out into the water between them. He let out a victorious shout! That meant that the lower deck had been put out of action. And with the other three six-inch guns firing as well as the two three-inch guns pumping lead into the side of the ship, there was no longer a threat to the light cruiser from that side. Even better was that there was a constant stream of smoke coming from the wooden vessel, a fire withing was burning the insides out.
Just when they thought that the ship was on its last legs and was well on its way to sinking, it responded back with an interesting surprise. A strange feeling filled the air, and they were all shocked to see the ship rising out of the water. Rising so much so that the six-inch guns could not elevate enough to fire upon it, leaving only the three-inch guns able to fire successive shots, their high elevation capability being perfect for this situation. The smaller caliber guns were only able to lob a few shells before even they were unable to get any hits.
The flying ship turned quickly towards the shore and, with great speed, made a dash for safety inland. For a moment, they thought that the battered wooden ship would barely make it away. Those thoughts were put away as they saw the multiple masts of the wooden ship once by one collapse into the inner workings of the ship. In the distance, they could see the fantastic flying ship drop altitude, first slowly, then ever faster before they presume that the ship crashed inland, above what the cliffs adorning the sore would allow them to see. The captain of the ship called at ease, and the crew celebrated their first naval victory. There was a cost to that victory, though, with the loss of one life and the injury of seven others. It was a small price to pay, but compared to what the army had faced on land, their victory was a much sweeter one.
While the gun crews celebrated, the captain made very detailed notes about the engagement for the after-action report, but also for orders to be quickly sent back to the fort. While the wooden ships of the realms were not that big of a threat to the all-metal constructed ships of the Kingdom of Quillum, they in the sky sure could. In his order back to the fort was for a salvaging party to be dispatched to the wreck and recover whatever they could. They needed to recover what made that ship fly, and they needed to recover it fast.
Information through the intelligence network traveled much faster than it did through the ships that were going to and from the landing sight in the Dragon Realms. It was through that network that the current command structure so far away was able to control all that was to be done on the battlefield. It had it's negatives, being that there was such a great distance that needed to be covered by multiple agents using islands in between the two continents, having them relay the message all the way. They had to make do with what they had. It was also through this network that the mixed results of the first battle were received by the war department.
Field Marshal O'Brian was less than pleased with the casualties, and especially the fatalities involved in those figures. He was glad that the fort had been captured, but if they were going to take that many losses to capture one, then they would run out of soldiers within a year. Something would have to change to prevent that from happening. It was truly a battle of mixed results. They had won the strategic victory but had a tactical loss. This information was to be presented to the monarch couple, which he was not all that excited to tell them about the results.
It was from his office in Castletown, gathered up the papers in a parcel, and left his office in the war department's headquarters. Walking down the hallways in uniform, he garnered the attention of everyone that he encountered, more so because of the rank that he held rather than being a notable person – well, that too, but mostly due to his rank. It was a strange feeling. Passersby either waved at him or did a simple head nod in acknowledgment of his presence. He tried his best to acknowledge back, waving, or nodding back. Having made his way through the department headquarters, he made it to the stables of the department, where he had his trusty steed waiting for him.
From the stables, his horse trotted out and onto the streets of Castletown. From there, he made his onto the horse roads of the city. The architects of Castletown had the forethought to implement different streets for pedestrians, those on horseback and large sidewalks elevated above the horse road by a minimum of three inches for when the roads met. Cleanliness was the deciding factor, with many of the architects stepping in horse dung, some of whom not having the money for shoes. Unlike other major cities that had a singe road for all means of travel, Castletown was the only one that had not experienced traffic congestion during peak travel times. It was truly ingenious. He easily made his way out of the city and made his way to the palace.
Despite the name Castletown implying that the town was adjacent to a castle, the royal palace was actually a ways away. Doing so was a measure to ensure the royal family have their privacy, as well as for the Royal Guardsmen to have some operating room to battle any foe that approached the palace. However, the likelihood of the monarchs being at the palace during an attack was slim. It took thirty to forty minutes at a gallop. He was unsure why he didn't just fly there, as it was much faster to do so. It was more or less to maintain a professional look to ride the horse, as doing so gave an image of a brave general rallying his soldiers for a coming battle.
The forested road had along either side of him was flanked with evergreen trees: pine, spruce, yew, with many deciduous trees like oak, elm, and chestnut trees. It was a refreshing ride, as the scents of the forested road entered his nostrils, opening up his airways. The trip would soon end as he rode up on the first gate of the royal estate. The gate had the typical guard station, which was constantly crewed and ready to stop any unwanted persons from entering. The walls connected to the post ran the entire parameter of the estate and were fifteen feet high and ten feet wide, with a walking path on top for routine patrols. The Royal Guardsmen knew O'Brian quite well but had to hold him up to the same standard as any other person, even if it meant being disrespectful. In reality, they were under the command of the monarchs and therefore, could not be punished by someone who had no authority over them.
Once he was cleared to enter, he commanded his horse to resume the gallop that it had sustained before, quickly approaching the palace seen in the distance. In this final approach, his thoughts strayed to his normal life, something that he would receive less of now that the war was going to be in full swing. He had a loving wife back home with two children of his own. In the build-up to the war, he had already begun to lose time with them, and now he worried that he would have not timed with them at all. There was nothing in the way to stop them from visiting him at the War Department's headquarters but wasn't the quality time that he wanted to spend with them. The respectable salary that he was paid was more than enough to give them the life that they wanted, but money couldn't buy a father.
As he arrived, he diverted his horse to the stables kept a small ways away from the palace itself where stablehands would take good care of his horse while he conducted official business. There would have to be a quarter of a mile walk to the entrance, but it was a good exercise for the older Buteo. He was greeted once again at the door by another group of Royal Guardsmen, where they cleared his entry into the palace. Getting in was the easy part, something that had always been easy. There at the lobby was oddly enough a life-like statue of a dragon, adorned with fine jewelry and high-quality linens. It was a strange choice of decoration, but he had no room to give his opinion.
There was no official meeting time established, only a welcomed, but uninvited appearance. The easiest way was to ask the servants if they had seen them around, and that was giving mixed results. It sent him on a wild goose chase that could only lead him to dead-ends and to places that he had already been before. He had to think for a moment what they could be doing at this given time. O'Brian produced a gilded stopwatch from his pocket; the time was five thirty-seven in the evening. Maybe they were seated at the dinner table waiting for the chef staff to prepare their meals. It was off to the dining hall.
Walking down the echoing hallway, he finally found his way to the dining hall, or rather a small dining room where the two monarchs were seated across from each other at a small, humble table, casually dressed rather than in their flashy regalia. Little did O'Brian know, unless there was some occasion where the monarchs needed to be seated in the dining hall, they sat off in a separate, smaller dining room where six people could be seated comfortably. He felt bad for not knocking, and the monarchs were in the middle of making a sour face at the rude person to interrupt them but welcomed the Field Marshal in when they recognized who he was.
"Parker O'Brian, what brings you here this fine evening?" Jadney asked, quick to offer the military leader a seat at the table. Then the thought quickly hit her. What if he was here for urgent matters that both of them needed to hear? "Has something happened?"
"I'm doing fine, thank you, Jadney. I've come to deliver the after-action report from the first battle."
"Well, don't just stand there, take a seat, and let's see it," Bevan was quick to announce. The Field Marshal reluctantly accepted the invitation and sat down at the barren dinner table.
"Done already or waiting?" he asked, conscious if he interrupted a special night between the two.
"Waiting." That wasn't good.
"Am I interrupting a special occasion this evening. I can leave if you two are."
"No, no, no, It's fine. You're welcome to stay. We'll have the dining staffget you a plate as well." Jadney reassured him, being polite all the while.
"I probably shouldn't. I promised my wife and kids that we would all go out to fine dining this evening."
"You know, we could just have them invited here. It will take a while for the chefs to prepare everything anyway, so there is plenty of time for them to get here. Are you okay with that, you two." O'Brian scratched the back of his head, unsure if he should or not. On the one hand, it would mean that the dinner that they have been planning was going to be called off, but then again, there was nothing finer than dining with the royal family in the palace. Bevan gave an approving nod. O'Brian gave in and nodded as well.
"Splendid! I will have a messenger sent to them. Your wife is at home, is she?" O'Brian nodded his head once again to Jadney's question. "What is her name? I don't ever recall hearing it before."
"Mae," he replied to the queen. "I assume that you already know my residence, so it shouldn't be all that hard to find them." Jadney gave him the thumbs up, got up from her chair, and left the room for a brief moment. While she was gone, it gave Bevan the opportunity to ask O'Brian the burning question that he had wanted to ask.
"Parker, are we loosing already? Were that twenty years of preparation too little?" Bevan asked the Field Marshal anxiously, almost holding his breath as he waited for the answer.
"No. The attack was a success. You and Jadney will have to see more when she gets back. We won the battle, and this is the after-action report." Parker held the parcel in the air and placed it down on the table. In this simple page-sized envelope was, as Bevan had described it, the results of twenty years of preparation. If the attack had been a failure, then it would have shown that the Quillians, despite all of the time that they had spent ensuring that they were prepared, was not long enough and that more time was needed before they tried again.
Jadney walked back into the room and sat back down where she had been sitting before. She looked over at O'Brian and smiled. "A messenger has been sent, and the dining staff has been notified that there there are extra guests and are adjusting accordingly. It might take a little while longer, it should give just enough to get here."
"Thank you, your highness." He replied thankfully. "Now that you all are here, I can finally share the results to you." He opened up the parcel and pulled from it the multiple pages of the after-action report. Before the monarchs were given the opportunity to look at it themselves, he gave a brief overview of the report to them.
"The battle that took place, now dubbed The Battle of The Cliffside Fort, took place when it was discovered that the landing site which had been selected had a fort constructed, one that the intelligence network had not noticed on their initial fly-over of the site during their initial assessments of the location. That means that this fort was constructed in three weeks. It was a small fort, though, and was there to protect the beaches rather than to repulse an attack from the sea-based upon the observation of the fort's construction. The navy escorts shelled the fort, with over two-thousand shells, although with the lack of high-angle guns, they had to shoot at far off distances for the shells to reach over the cliffs and impact the fort as was needed it to, so there were not many direct hits to the fort itself. The fort was not yet complete, and it is likely that the defenders were the builders, whom of which were trained to fight; in other words, they were soldiers that were taught the craft of construction.
"We think that a significant portion of the construction crew was caught by surprise by the bombardment, and that under half of the fort's defenders were killed in the shelling. Landing forces were loaded up in boats and made their way to the shore, from which they charged up the embankment to the planes in which the fort was standing. From the damaged fort, the defenders regrouped and reorganized to form a defense. Their defense was tough, requiring a second wave of soldiers from the transport ships to reinforce the initial wave. The defenders were surrounded and were eventually slain. There were a few that retreated and managed to escape but only represented a small portion of their forces and, therefore, were not given chase. The fort was taken, and it is from its remains that the current operations of the invasion force are being based at."
O'Brian passed the pages over to the two monarchs, where they would look over the document in detail. As they flipped the pages, he could see their expressions change from curiosity to concern. He knew what they were looking at: the causality and fatality report. They would occasionally lock eyes with him, silently asking if these figures were correct. He solemnly nodded his head in response, his heart weighing heavily. The would move on to other aspects of the report, but their reaction was never as intense as it was when they saw the Buteo cost of the engagement.
"What do you suggest we do to get that number down? We can't keep taking casualties like that. This was a small fort, barely big enough to be considered one, so what happens when we find a true fortification? An entire division will have to spill their blood to capture it?" Bevan was first to ask. As much as this mattered to both of them, Bevan was more concerned with the matter than Jadney was; Bevan had much more invested in this than Jadney did.
"I've been wondering the same thing," O'Brian said, holding a hand under his beak as he thought of potential solutions, "My initial thought is that we invest more into ranged weapons, but weapons powered by drawstrings are approaching their limits, and I am unsure how effective they would be against the armored scales of a dragon."
"Have the families been notified yet?" Jadney asked, worrying about the Buteo aspect of the conflict.
"Not yet. The paperwork is still being processed. I was told that notices will be delivered in a day or two."
"May the gods bless their hearts. Only they know what they will feel when they learn of the tragic news." All at the table were put off by that sentence. So many had given the greatest sacrifice, and yet their loved ones were anxious to have earthy and sea smelling letters delivered back to them, informing them of their well being and the wonders of the new lands. They would receive a letter, but one that they would be wholly unprepared to read.
"Can we move away from the subject?" O'Brian asked, pulling the stopwatch from his pocket. The time was now six o'clock. "It's now past my hours."
"Sure. Any further and we would have ruined the mood of the evening." Bevan replied, himself glad that he was finally able to get away from that conversion. Parker was more than eager to unbutton the formal over-shirt and kick back a little bit. Their conversations change topics soon after that.
Servants entered the room later, setting the plates, giving out silverware and napkins, and placing the spice shakers. Once they left, Jadney soon after began to practice her newly given abilities. Bradan had procured more green gems from somewhere to craft another green-gem potion, which he gifted both her and Bevan. She began to practice the craft, a lilac aura emanating from her arm as she did so. Even to lift something as mundane as the pepper shaker took quite a bit of concentration from the new magic practitioner. Given enough time to hone, she might be as strong as Bradan is, magically, that is. Bevan tried it too, this time a crimson aura emanating from his hand – the color appearing to be unique to everyone who can use it.
Some time had passed, and a knock was heard on the door. They welcomed whoever it was on the other side in, and it was Parker O'Brian's family waiting on the other side. His youngest daughter rushed towards her father with joy.
"Daddy! I've missed you so much!" she said, jumping on the unprepared man.
"I'm missed you to, baby bear. How are you doing, you little rascal?" He said with a tone of happiness that was uncommon for the Field Marshal to be heard talking in.
"I'm doing great. I've made new friends today at school."
"That's awesome." Parker looked over at his son. A few years older than his daughter, he was a little calmer and collected. "And you, my boy. How have you been."
The boy was shy to speak in front of people that he did not know but opened up for his father. "I got splinters in my hands again when I was building my fort. I pulled them out and didn't feel a thing!" The boy boasted. In his attempt to be like his father, the son had begun to construct a fort out of spare wood planks that he would pretend was his to defend, and act like he imagined his father would defend it.
"That's not good. But I'm glad that you got those pulled out." He diverted his attention to the most important person in his life. "Mae, I've missed you so much."
He got up from his chair to give his wife a well-deserving hug and a kiss – or in the case if the avians, a little nip with the beak or lick – on her cheek. Mae, reciprocated the affection given, giving Parker a hug and a kiss back.
"I was almost angry at you at first, thinking that you had canceled out plans for tonight, but I see that this was a much better opportunity than fine dining could ever offer."
As everyone had taken their seat, the serving staff had rolled in and served the evening meal. While Parker O'Brian and his family had the wealth to afford luxury dining, nothing could compare to the service that the royal catering staff provided. Once the staff had left, they all toasted their drinks and dug into the meal, the anxiety-inducing after-action report was cast away for a moment, where they all could enjoy taking the time to enjoy their time, even if it was only a short time.
/\/\/\
Now that there was a supply of green gems at their disposal, the alchemists could finally experiment with more magic-intense experiments. What this meant for Bradan was that he could put away the soul manipulation, even if it was only for a short time, in favor of the magical or alchemical experiments that could actually do some good with. Their abilities were not unknown to the rest of the nation, and they were willing to do what they could even if it meant opening up their services for a commission, something that deemed okay to do by Bevan and Jadney. Unfortunately, there was not much in the way of civilian commissions coming in. With the invasion of the Dragon Realms taking center stage, every single militaristic thing was lining itself up to be improved upon.
This disheartened Bradan to the point of refusing the military any service. Still, Bradan was smart enough to know that the military would exploit the civilian-use only system by disguising their intentions using fly-by-night business and groups to get what they wanted. Being the leader of the team, it was up to him to decide what they worked on, what they put off, and what they refused to work on. Because of that power, he directed his team to undertake tasks that have the highest "down-the-line" improvement in the public, although there wasn't much to be had after the first couple of tasks.
Though the commission submissions were closed down to further works until they had cleared their workload, the War Department continued to send in their requests. Annoyed by the constant stream of letters, he finally called it a day and had the rest of the alchemist and metaphysics team dismissed not for just the day, but the entire rest of the week. Everyone saw it as a generous thing to do, which allowed time to had multiple days off that allowed them to rest and recharge. However, Bradan saw it as a way to give the middle finger to the War Department, to send them a message that not only they were tired – that he was tired – but also sick of having militaristic requests sent to them.
As they all left the laboratory, Bradan was sure to lock the doors in so that his week-long break was taken seriously and that nobody would return to the lab until it was time to return. With the doors locked, he could finally go home, something that he couldn't do that often, having most nights spent in the living quarters that had been constructed for them. He was looking forward to seeing his spouse and was curious as to how she was fairing. It tore him up, knowing that so much of his time was spent in this lab than his own home. He was not looking forward to the conversation that he was going to have with Katrine.
Once he got outside, he unfurled his wings and took flight, not caring at all the amount of feathers shook loose by the flapping of his wings. He soared high into the air, riding the convection currents higher and higher until everything below him was distant and far below. Up there, he could feel free, unshackled by the chains of the world has he let the winds take him where he needed to go, only gliding. Besides the sound of the wind blowing past his ears, it was truly tranquil. Up there, he could be a child once again.
Twenty years ago, he lied about his age to fight the Dark Army, hoping to make quick money, money that he didn't have before. He had lived a life of many hardships growing up, of constant movement from one place to the other, of many hungry nights, of nights where his dead-beat parents would blame and beat him for their problems, and faithful that night that he was finally left alone to die, only to have the release of death allude him. He never had a true childhood, and to become a child soldier was when the chance to have some form of innocents was gone. But now, a brief moment when there was nobody watching, it was him and him alone, it was the moment he let go.
He soared through the clouds for not much regard for where he went, dancing with the winds, feeling the air rush by him. Maneuvering any way he wanted to, not by how he had to. Flying was his one escape from the harsh reality that was the world below, an escape that presented itself less than the opportunity to actually go home. It made him feel alive and truly blissful. But he still had a lover to visit, and while he could spend hours in the sky with the air filling his wings, he directed his course of flight towards his home but stayed lofted in the air where he playfully soared. But all of that fun would come to an end soon. His piece of property was withing the walls of the royal estate and, therefore, was never that far from home, which also gave him a little excuse for not being there either.
He descended from the high altitude slowly and eventually made a nimble landing right before the front porch. He gingerly stepped up onto the porch and moved up to the door. He tried to open it once to avail. Slightly frustrated at this, he procured a set of keys from a pocket on his pants that thankfully relied on snaps to keep it closed instead of fabric tension. He thumbed through the set until he found the right one, and unlocked the door, announcing his presence.
"Katrine, I'm home." Those words stung to say. He might as well not say them at all considering how often that he was home – or the lack thereof.
"So you finally decided to show up," a voice called back. It was coming from upstairs. Bradan was already certain that she was more than angry at him, and reluctantly made his way to the staircase and slowly walked up to them, the stairs creaking as he did so. At the top of the stairs, he made his way through the short hallway to the bedroom.
There he found Katrine under the sheets, curled up under them. He knew that she had a tendency to be a night owl, but did not expect to see her just now getting out of bed. From under the covers, she shifted, stretching her arms and legs out, before casting away the covers. She had been clothed with sleeping clothes that consisted of baggy cotton sweatpants, a loose-fitting t-shirt, and undergarments remaining hidden below the outerwear. She sat up in the bed and crossed her legs, through the loose-fitting clothes he could her belly poking out. It was one of the oddities about the Buteo body that even Bradan had yet to wrap his head around.
Unlike other members of the avian family of animals, Buteos had strange quarks that separate them from the rest. Avian creatures are known to lay eggs that will eventually give way to a hatchling. While Buteos do eventually lay eggs, the child will go through a gestation period inside of the mother before the egg is laid. The hypothesis most supported is that having a child develop in an egg for the length of time needed was too risky because of the duration needed for the fetus to develop. In the time needed, there was an increasing risk of damage to the egg and the child. The idea was that to mitigate this risk, the distant ancestors of the Buteos began to mimic mammals in their reproductive methods, meaning that internal gestation occurred, but an egg was still laid with the partially developed child inside. It also states it is the reason why Buteo females exhibit breast tissue despite not needing to provide a young with milk. While Bradan wasn't a believer in the intelligent design idea that some religious folks subscribe to, but whatever entity thought that making Buteos like that must have been retarded thinking that was a good idea.
"You can't seem to leave that job of you for long enough to come by more than maybe once or twice a week," Katrine said indignantly. Just like he expected, Bradan palmed his face and was ready for ass-chewing that he was going to get. "I'm starting to wonder why I'm still here."
"If you were in my shoes, you would understand all that I have to go through."
"Would I now?"
"Yes, sweetheart, you would," He sighed, "you have to understand that our workload is only getting bigger, and there is no other magicians, mages, or whatever you want to call us out there because we don't have the supply of green gems to make green potions to make new ones." He hated to have to tell a lie to get out of this situation, but it was the only option he had a the moment. The faster that he explain to Katrine, the faster this debacle ends.
"Then why not use what gems you have left to make as many options as you can so that you don't have such a small team anymore?"
"We are saving those for when we need them."
"It sounds like you need to make more magicians then." She had a sound point. He didn't say much to her about what all went on in the lab for security measures, and he sure as hell did not tell her about what happened with Cynder.
"I know, I know..."
"Then, when you fly off to work tomorrow, you should get on that."
"I dismissed everyone for the week. Nobody is going back to the lab until then, not even me."
"Oh?" Katrine was visibly confused. She was used to him spending more and more time there, to hear that he called off work for a week was unusual, completely unlike him. "What made you want to that?"
"I'm tired, that's why. So much to do, not a lot of time to do it. I closed our work list, only for the imbeciles at the war department to keep sending us a ludicrous amount of work orders. The rest of my team is drained, and they need a break. On top of that, I felt as if I've not been treating you right being away all the time, so I wanted to make that up to you."
Katrine's indignation simmered down a bit after hearing that. She was tired of being put off, that the one that she had fallen in love with was always away. She could not deny that the income brought in by the occupation was more than enough to provide for a family of ten or more and that all of their need were supplied thanks to being on the royal estate anyway. But there was little need for Bradan to spend his nights in the palace slaving away at tasks that he had others to assist him with.
She beckoned him over to sit next to her, which he was more than glad to do. He flopped down on the beside her, letting out a slight groan doing so. The mattress here was much firmer than the once that were used in the palace. Sitting up, he scooted over closer to her until they were shoulder to shoulder. He wrapped his right arm around her waist, and she did the same with her left.
"You know what, I think when I go back, I'll use the last of the green gems to make enough potions to get more magicians and alchemists, then I'm assigning a new leader to them. I'll be just a figurehead at that point." Bradan said in a somber tone. He could see a smile form on her face.
"I think you'd be making a good choice." She happily replied.
"I think you might be right."
They sat there for a while, glad to be in each other's company. It wasn't long before they got up, one because Katrine was no longer tired, the other because he realized it had been almost three days since he had a shower, and both enjoying each other's company. When Bradan was finished with his shower, he donned a pair of easy-fitting, comfortable clothing, and went downstairs. Katrine was quite the bookworm and had been five-hundred pages deep into an almost two-thousand-page novel. He couldn't help but be amazed at how fast his lover could read such a novel in a week when I very well could take him or any other Buteo a month.
He walked into the kitchen and examined the cupboards for supplies. He nodded his head in approval, as the cupboards and cabinets were stocked with all sorts of supplies, all thanks to Bevan and Jadney for being generous enough to provide them their needs. "What do you want for dinner? Or breakfast?" He asked.
"It doesn't matter. I'll have what you have, as long as you don't burn it or overcook it like you usually do." She said sardonically. He wasn't the best in the world when it came to meal prep, but he was slowly getting better at it.
"Let me look at what we have." Bradan looked around all-around to see what was available. A whole heap of all kinds of vegetables, and an odd variety of meats. Rabbit? Deer? And even bear meat? He shook his head in astonishment. "Since when did we have wild game?"
"I was curious, so I requested it," Katrine answered, not even looking up from her novel. "They are actually pretty good, but the bear is very greasy."
"You do know that bear meat has a high chance of containing trichinosis, right?"
"Just cook it long enough, and it will be okay."
Bradan smirked and shook his head. That was the quirks that he loved about her. He magically retrieved all of the things that he needed and got to work preparing his surprise. It was his hope that the little time he had associating with the chefs in the royal palace was enough to allow him to make a good meal for once. All of the vegetables were prepared, and the meat was cut into the right-sized chunks need for his surprise dish: wild game stew. With the prep work completed, it was time to get the stove heated up. The stove, just like those in the palace, was a wood-heated stove, which took its sweet time getting heated up. Having a spritz of water against the stovetop instantly flashes to steam, it was time to get the pot over the stove and start making it.
It was seven-thirty in the evening when it was finally finished and was ready to serve. Bradan filled both a bowl for him and a bowl for Katrine. Walking out into the living room, he presented his creation to his lover. She placed a bookmark on her current page and set the book down on the coffee table. At first, she was reluctant to take a spoonful of the stew, but with the savory aroma filling her nostrils, she took a bite.
"There's no way that you made this." She commented, getting another spoonful.
"I guess that means that I'm better than you thought I was?" He asked rhetorically, proud of his achievement.
"Well, you can't burn something that is wet, silly."
They both laughed. It was good to be home.
Well, this is a big one! Over 20 thousand words long! It took a long time to make this chapter, but I'm glad that it's finally done and over. I've not got any closing remarks, as I'm brain feels numb after finishing this. I can say that I don't think that the next chapter will be as long as this one, but I might challenge myself to go above and beyond next time. That's all I have to say, so until next time, happy reading!