The Steel Striders are all that remains of the fallen empire. They have been waiting, planning, and preparing for over a century. In their last northern asylum, beyond the watchful eyes of the white flayers, they amassed an army behind a facade of instability and desperation. Now, they are ready.

"Greetings, admiral. It has come to my attention that a chance to reclaim the cold loch territories has arisen. Our current plan is rather lacking in detail, but calls for a full attack of the northeastern coast at dawn in no more than four days. Will we have your assistance?"

"So let me get this straight. You want us to throw everything we have at the cliffs, in 70 to 130 kilometer per hour winds and heavy snow, while under artillery fire, with no real objective? You can't be serious."

"Admiral, if we weren't serious, I would not be meeting with you now, and you raise a fair point. Recalculating... Instead of a mainland conflict, we could strike key coastal installations from the sea, cutting the throne off from its endless stream of iron and oil. From there, the throne will either crumble or freeze. All that remains is to decide our staging point for a full frontal assault on the near-literal mountain range's worth of floating steel."

"Very well then. We will tackle the northeast cliffs alongside your forces. I just have one concern. How do you plan on keeping up an offensive in such a hostile environment?"

"We will be using a predominantly mechanized assault, complete with multiple portable foundries to maintain the offensive with fresh supplies. On another note, your ground forces and any naval and landing craft available will also be needed in forty days off the coast of High Lorham. We cannot wait any longer if you hope to reclaim the tower. We must strike swiftly if you are to avoid a five front war with the remaining powers, insurrections, and the scarlet dawn.

"You're proposing we then attack the white flayers head on, without nearly enough escort craft or minesweepers to clear the archipelago."

"No, I am proposing that you do so without your escort craft and minesweepers. You will not be alone in your assault on the throne, or on High Lorham. Have you received word of the Eriwick revolt?"

"Yes, what can a bunch of crazy salvagers do against the onyx watch and the white flayers?"

"They've been all but on their own in a three front war against the white flayers, onyx watch, and lightning hoods for over two decades, and still exist as an independent territory. Only recently have they begun to strain under the brunt of the flayed onslaught. If we break through the cauldron and link up with the Deepwater Guard, we can claim the throne, then the tower."

"So the current plan is isolate and conquer the throne, an impervious castle deep in a frozen sea crawling with equally impervious warships, then take on the white flayers, an unyielding army of cultish bloodthirsty maniacs and all those unlucky enough to be within their jurisdiction, with only the aide of the Deepwater Guard, a band of mercenaries, scavengers, and a handful of AWOL soldiers? I thought you were the logical one, surely we can both see the weight resting on this decision, which in my eyes is an unneeded risk."

"That is precisely why I am involving the Deepwater Guard so thoroughly. In fact, you are merely there to turn their efforts to claim the throne into a solid fighting chance via a second front. Vice admiral, this will likely seem silly at the moment, but would you be willing to identify this individual and list everything you know pertaining to said individual?"

"I don't know where you're going with this, but against my better judgement, go ahead."

A nearby monitor flickered to life, filled by a photograph.

"Vice admiral "Dusk" Reginald. Led a carrier division of the steel striders from about two thirds through the war up to the bitter end. By the time the war was over, he was already both hailed and infamous for both his cunning and his resolve. Unfortunately for us, he's been dead for three centuries, the cause of his sudden death was never explained, and they never found a body, not like it would help us find a leader like him."

"Good, you know your history. Unfortunately, your history is riddled with holes, contradictions, and flat-out lies. I have written a more accurate version, for lack of better words. It is true that he was a cunning tactician, and that he was largely responsible for your survival and my eventual existence."

"However, his 'death' remains shrouded in mystery, and multiple conflicting answers to the question makes it seem almost as though there was a cover-up, as if the striders had wanted to bury him and his whole fleet in the sand, and dig them back up when the scarlet dawn came for revenge. Admiral, are you alright? You look rather nervous. Was I on to something? Was he perhaps buried in say, fishbone canyon, or possibly the eastern janwall archipelago?"

"How did you find out about that vault? They weren't due to be thawed until after the scarlet dawn came back, and the coordinates of the vault were erased when the white flayers ousted us."

"I was just getting to that. That first image was recovered from a salvaged Steel Empire databank dating back approximately 308 years. This was added a mere month ago to my sensor logs."

A new image filled the screen. The admiral's face turned white as bone .

"I will notify the senate and the other admirals immediately."

"Make haste, for war is on the horizon."

Meanwhile, beneath the turbulent storms of the cauldron, machines churned to life in the depths. Sand kicked off of the seabed as five massive steel shells lifted to the surface one by one. The metal frames fell away into the depths, leaving the five warships in the waves of the cauldron. They all turned westward as one, and set their course.

In Eriwick, dozens of warships raced north to answer the call to arms. In the fjords and bays of the northern islands, hundreds of turbines slowly began to turn, and the fleet made its way from the sheltered cliff-side dry docks into the water and out to the open ocean, ship by ship. The lofty white and red and gold towers of High Lorham faintly glimmered as a bright point of light appeared over the northwestern horizon and gradually vanished into the twilight sky.

"What might that be, brother? Perhaps the steel striders have finally rediscovered flight!"

"Or maybe the savages are celebrating our generosity in letting them to keep their heretical culture, as if the flayed god would ever accept them!"

"Do not be so quick to speak and so slow to listen, brothers. Look, more lights over the horizon. Divert a patrol to investigate at once."

The order was given and followed, and silence returned. Minutes turned to hours. It was nearly light when the patrol reported back.

"High priest, the striders are mob- -ili-ing! They- trying to ja- us. This radar - some- big. They got something the size of a b-i- out of the atmos- by the fl-yed god, shoot - that h-retical -nstrosity down, bef-re we're sp- - get us out of h- IT BURNS AHHHH-"

"Commu- woah!"

The earth trembled as ejecta began to rain down all across the horizon. Reports flooded in about it raining chunks of battleship armor. Molten, pulverized, irradiated armor.

"What horrible aberration could have wrought such destruction upon our faithful followers?"

"REPENT! REPENT! THE GREAT SCOURGE HATH COME!"

"Calm yourselves-"

"REPENT!" "We're doomed!"
"HERESY WILL SET ROOT ONCE MORE!"

"CALM YOURSELVES, YOU SPINELESS IMBECILES. This new weapon the heretical empire has constructed is just that: a weapon. We must merely find the means of jamming it. Pull our followers back to our shores. They would not dare lay a finger upon their very own holy city, after such effort to preserve the horrors of their heresy. Call upon the dark mages in the east. We require their wizardry once more."

"But brother, they too are heretics-"

"Unlike the treacherous heathens to the north, the mages accept us as their own. The least we can do is return their most generous gift of mutual benefit. We must be ready to parry their next blow, wherever it may land, or we shall be blighted by their heresy once more. Summon the mages."

"Very well, brother."