The army of Mistral made good progress on its first day of marching down the coast. Several hamlets and three villages were swiftly and peacefully occupied and they made camp outside the walls of the small town of Braygate, whose leader foolishly chose to resist. He was lynched the following day by terrified townsfolk who promptly invited the Mistrali into the town as if they were liberators.
An old, decrepit fort was the only obstacle to her advance along the Solitas Coastal Road until she reached Fort Reed, one of the few forts the Atlesians had actively maintained over the years due to its strategic position. Holding Fort Reed could either block an advance on Bessemer and the Atlesian heartlands to Kingsberg and Titan or it could be used as a supply base and springboard for an attack on said lands. It was absolutely critical she took it or at least laid siege to it before the start of winter, which was growing nearer with every passing day.
She didn't doubt that soon she'd be marching on Fort Reed, but there were a number of problems plaguing her, making her more cautious before she marched off and besieged the Fort.
Firstly, the Atlesians had finally begun to make their move. A small host was advancing towards Vulcan, threatening her supply lines, whilst a much larger one was gathering near the ruins of Mantle.
Against her better nature, she made a sign against evil. Everyone knew Mantle was a cursed, rotten place. She had no desire to fight there, but that may be necessary. If she could defeat the Atlesians before the winter and secure Fort Reed then her campaign next year would be much more easier.
Secondly, reports were coming from Mistral of Valean raids on the coast and trade lines being interdicted by privateers. However, she heard little about the mobilisation of Valean forces and if her plan went well then the Valeans would soon be busy dealing with Vacuo to come to the aid of Atlas. But she was still worried she'd made a mistake, left her homeland too exposed and easy to invade.
Finally, there was the problem of possible traitors within her army. Even the most disciplined Mistrali could be turned if the lure was right, and Pyrrha feared someone may be actively trying to sabotage her war efforts.
She had made it clear she did not want to inflict unnecessary brutality on the Atlesians, knowing that if they felt cornered all they would do was fight harder. That had been seen at Vulcan. Rather than surrender, the locals had chosen to resist because one of her own had been overzealous and had killed a messenger sent to negotiate a surrender. As a result, hundreds of men she needed for other battles were needlessly killed and Vulcan would more likely than not remain hostile to Mistrali rule due to the newly opened wounds caused by lost friends and family.
It was worrying. And if she didn't address it sooner rather than later then before long the problems would only pile up until she drowned in them.
"Seventy-Seven." Pyrrha called, and the guardsman stepped forward obediently before prostrating himself before her.
"Yes, Your Imperial Majesty?" The guard asked, voice muffled due to the ground.
"Summon my commanders, I wish to hold a Counsel of War."
"As you command,Your Imperial Majesty."
Seventy-Seven rose and left. Slaves bustled in and began organising her room. Maps were brought in, reports as well and food and drink and everything else that may be needed. It was quick, speedy transformation and she was happy with the speed at which her slaves worked. For new acquisitions, they worked rather efficiently.
Seventy-Seven worked just as quickly. Two dozen men, all of the lords of high rank, entered the tent, though she only kept her eye on a few key figures.
Duke Pentheus of Atticon was an old, experienced man who followed proper protocol by bowing as he entered the room. He had driven off the Eastern Sea Pirates when she had been a little girl but his age had made him soft. He was easily cowed by her presence, and quiet clearly feared her. She believed it may have something to do with the grandsons she kept as wards, though they were safe in Mistral. So long he remained loyal that was.
Next to Pentheus was Duke Acteon of the Shimmering Glades, who swaggered roguishly into the room before giving a short, almost mocking bow. Unlike his comrade, Acteon was young and a greenhand at war. However, he made up for that with eagerness and a lust for battle that made him headstrong but eager to follow her so long she led him to battle, bloodshed and glory. He was her strongest contender for the person who had killed the Vulcan messenger, though she had no evidence as of yet.
Finally there was Duke Midas of Megara. He was somewhat of an in-between the other two. He was middle aged but young enough not to tire easily. He was experienced at war but disliked fighting it, preferring trade and prosperity. He was also the one she trusted most. He had been among the first to swear loyalty to her as Queen and had also put aside his aversion to war in order to support her expedition. He was also a close friend of Lord Hector, the only noble she could hand on heart say she truly trusted. He nodded before bowing to her.
She quickly gave the order for them all to rise, and they settled in around the round table. On it was the map of Atlas, with numerous figures marking the rough positions of her army and that of the Atlesians.
"Thank you for coming at such short notice my lords." Pyrrha said politely. "But I wish to ask you what you think our next move should be before we march. We have numerous problems facing us."
She gestured to the Atlesian figures to her north and east.
"At Mantle, a large host is assembling. To the east a smaller army is marching on Vulcan, which threatens our supply lines."
"How big is it, Your Imperial Majesty?" Asked Duke Pentheus.
"Scouts estimate between 9,000 and 12,000 men." Pyrrha replied.
"We can't allow Vulcan to fall. It would make us all look stupid if we lost the city we just took. I doubt it would be good for morale either." Duke Acteon said.
"I agree." Duke Midas interjected. "But we can't just halt our campaign to defeat a far smaller force than ours. Speed is critical if we are to win this war."
"And what of the army gathering at Mantle?" Duke Pentheus added. "If we attack now, we may be able to disperse them before they are fully organised."
"And fight a battle at Mantle? With nothing but an icy wasteland for miles around?" Duke Acteon asked rhetorically. "Even I'm not crazy enough to want to do that."
"Not to mention our supply lines will be stretched thin." Duke Midas added. "Especially if the other Atlesian army is active and attacking then."
"The same army you dismissed?" Duke Pentheus snapped.
"I never dismissed it." Midas retorted. "I just stated that we shouldn't divert our full attention to defeating a smaller army, which would threaten the campaign and the war."
"We send a detachment back east." Acteon shrugged, leaning back in his chair. "We can use the garrison we left at Vulcan to bolster it if we need to. Then we defeat the Atlesians in battle whilst the rest of the army keep going for Fort Reed."
"We may not be able to if the Atlesians at Mantle grow any stronger!" Pentheus snapped, angry his authority had been challenged by a man many years his junior. "You argued that attacking Mantle would be foolish due to our supply lines being too vulnerable. The same can be applied to continuing our advance whilst a large army waits to our north. If we fail to take Fort Reed by winter then they can swoop in and encircle us between the mountains, the coast and Fort Reed, which will not be undefended."
"Firstly, my main reason for saying we shouldn't attack Mantle was because it's Mantle." Acteon replied, a lazy smirk on his face. "Secondly, the same problem in regards to overstretched supply lines would apply to the Atlesians if they march on us during the winter. Finally, are you proposing Her Imperial Majesty's plan is flawed? You seem to have little faith in it after all."
"Absolutely preposterous!" Pentheus snarled, suddenly bursting from his seat and slamming his hands down on the table, face flushed angrily and possibly fear. "All I am saying is we need to take into account the large army that is gathering to our north. I have been a loyal servant of the Crown since you were but a whelp boy so watch your tongue before I rip it from you spoiled, arrogant little mouth."
Acteon remained smiling, though it seemed much more brittle and his dark eyes glinted dangerously. Midas glanced towards her, pleading for to take control of the situation.
"All very valid points." Pyrrha said, and some chuckled at the subtle agreement with Pentheus' words. Acteon flushed but remained silent whilst Pentheus bowed to her.
"I apologise for my outburst, Your Imperial Majesty."
"You are forgiven." She waited for him to sit back down before she continued. "You all raise valid points. We have to act, and after hearing your concerns and advice, I have decided on a course of action."
She watched them lean forward, listening closely. What was said next could possibly decide the fate of the war and of her own leadership,. If her plan failed and the war was lost, she didn't see how it was possible for her to not be deposed and, if she was lucky, killed.
"Duke Acteon." She said, turning to the man whilst she addressed him. "You have my permission to take your levy from the main host. March east and add the Vulcan garrison to your ranks. Then defeat the smaller Atlesian host. Afterwards I want you to take the settlements they came from. We couldn't march on them with the main host as it would take up time, but with their army defeated and the threat of winter siege looming they may be more willing to surrender to you."
"As you command, Your Imperial Majesty." Acteon replied, head bowed low and respectfully, a smile on his face, likely thinking of the bloodshed and battle. She withheld a shudder. That man disturbed her.
"Duke Pentheus." She continued, now turning to the older man. He perked up, almost preening like a cat. "We do not know the exact number of the Atlesian forces at Mantle, and the war relies on the seizure of the coast before winter sets in. You are to take your levies from the main host, as well as those belonging to the Duke's of Aigaion, Thassetri, Pharakros and Sicmahos. If I remember correctly that should be some 18,000 men. Go to Mantle and build a defensive chain near it. If the Atlesians are weaker in number than you have my permission to attack. But in any other case I want you to hunker down and prevent them from advancing southwards. With Duke Acteon clearing out the area around Vulcan, our supply lines will hopefully be more secure and you should be able to last until winter. Once the beginning of the winter snows set in, retreat as quickly as you can back towards the coast."
"As you command, Your Imperial Majesty." Pentheus replied, bowing lowly. He looked both honoured and frustrated, likely thinking of the cold and the logistical headaches already.
"Meanwhile, I will lead the rest of the army towards Fort Reed. With any luck, the fort will fall before the winter and we can begin applying pressure on the Atlesian heartlands. Good luck, and may the Goddess grant you Her favour."
"May She grant you Her favour." The dukes and lord replied, bowing in tandem before leaving the tent. Pyrrha watched them go, a suffocating feeling finally falling from her shoulders.
The die was cast. Now she could only hope, and do her absolute best, to make sure it rolled on a favourable number.
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"I want you to keep an eye on him. I do not trust him."
"As you command, Your Imperial Majesty."
"Thank you Seventy-Seven. May the Goddess grant you Her favour."
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The day after her Counsel of War, the mighty army of Mistral split in three different prongs of attack. The bulk of the army continued westwards under her command, whilst a sizable portion, about a third, marched back eastwards under Duke Acteon. Over a quarter marched north under Duke Pentheus' command.
Acteon had been quick to leave, but Pentheus had remained long enough to take part in, and hopefully benefit from, the larger sacrifice Pyrrha held to ensure the Goddess' favour. Three prized bulls that had been gifted by the locals of Braywell had their throats cut and blood spilled across the ground before her. Priests collected it in bowls until the blood no longer flowed and they used brushes to sprinkle her and her commanders with its lifeblood. Once that was done, the remaining blood was poured on the ground to appease the God of the Dead who lurked below. Then the meat was cut and burned and the prized soldiers who set themselves apart from the others during the Battle of Vulcan were able to feast on the freshly sizzled flesh, though the choice cuts were left for the Goddess.
The rites complete, Pentheus marched north and Pyrrha marched west. She kept the pace steady at first, but the sight of smoke rising in the air in the distance caused her to halt the army whilst she sent scouts ahead. They returned shortly after, saying there was no sign of battle. She put the army under Duke Midas' command and instructed him to continue westwards whilst she investigated. Taking a detachment of horsemen and a dozen of her personal guards, Pyrrha headed towards the ominous sign.
After several minutes of pushing her horse hard, she reached the still burning remnants of an Atlesian village. Animals had been slaughtered, but on closer inspection they seemed to be only the old or incredibly young, one calf looking like it had just been born. The storehouses were empty apart from ash and the homes had seemingly been turned upside down. There was little of value here.
She looped around the village, searching for tracks. It took her less than a minute to find them. It looked like a small warband had left the village, heading westward. But where had they come from? There was no sign of anyone going into the village, no sign of battle or bloodshed. Just tracks leading westward.
'The villagers did this' She realised with a start. 'They burned their homes and stores to deny us shelter and food.'
The realisation made Pyrrha stared westwards, where more plumes of smoke were rising. Was it her army plundering? Was it bandits raiding, taking advantage of the chaos caused by war? Or was it peasants and villagers doing what they could to hinder the invader?
Pyrrha stared westwards, a heavy weight settling on her shoulders once more.
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Blake grunted as she clambered to the top of another cliff edge. She hauled herself up and sat on it, teetering on what looked like the edge of the world. She could see Snowmire arrayed before her, stubbornly wedged in between the Fangs. Smoke still rose from some of the fires set by the previous night's rioters.
She shook her head in disappointment at the sheer stupidity Humanity was capable of, before she leaned back against the cold stone of the west Fang and caught her breath.
The Fang was smaller than some of the mountains she had climbed before but was a lot steeper, being almost vertical at most parts with very few, if any, ledges for her to cling onto. But she was nearing the top now, and she couldn't help but feel disappointed. She couldn't smell the telltale signs of a dragon's lair, no charred corpses or spilled blood. Not even the distinctive, natural tang of gemstones and other such goods.
Which meant no dragon. Which meant her climb had been worthless.
Blake groaned, thunking her head against the mountain lightly. It still hurt.
She sighed. If she was lucky she might be able to find some un-pilfered loot from the old dragon's lair. If there even was one that was.
'Reminds me of the old days with the troublesome trio.' Blake thought, almost nostalgically, before she shook her head of any fondness that still lurked for her former travelling partners. Hazel Rainart, Arthur Watts and Tyrian Callows were not good people, not people worth the time of day, unlike Ruby and Jaune.
Travelling through the wilderness, searching through ancient temples and dusty lairs did remind her of what her life had been before she'd ended up wandering alone, aimless and thrown to the whims of the world. She still had her goal though, and she was ever closer to achieving it.
Being caught in the blast of Ruby's silver eyes was almost a blessing. Little was known about how and why silver-eyed magic came to be, nor how it worked beyond being incredibly effective at charring dragons. But at some point Arthur had figured out it could cause prophetic visions of the future. Blake was glad she didn't know how he'd found out, especially considering how he'd forced it out for her first time…
The Vacuoan sun burned down relentlessly. Blake was young and tired. Hazel was older and stronger. Her head was lolling on his broad back as he carried her through the desert, shawl on her shoulders blowing the light but somehow humid breeze. Tyrian was trailing behind them, wonderfully silent as the sun wore him down too.
Finally they reached their destination. Hazel gently set her down in the sand, and she followed him closely as they entered the long abandoned ruins of a small village that had been built into the face of the dusty cliffs.
Somewhere in the darkness, a shrill scream echoed, causing Blake to jump. Tyrian chuckled dryly, though Hazel slowed and gently took her tiny palm in his wide one, guiding her through the darkness and giving her a small sense of comfort.
Eventually they wound up in a small room. At the centre of it was a table. The metallic, musty scent of dried blood and hot, dense air filled the room, making her gag. Even Tyrian looked slightly put off.
"What have you done now, Watts?" Hazel rumbled, making the disgraced apothecary scoff as he looked up from the table he'd been hunched over.
"Finding us clues." He retorted snappishly. He always got moody whenever his work was interrupted, even if it was technically his fault for it being so. "I already told you about the visions I had when I was caught in the silver magic-"
"And none of those visions came true." Hazel intoned lowly, crossing his arms. "If you dragged us out here on a wild goose chase…"
"I didn't!" Watts snapped angrily. "Now let me finish. Those visions were real. I just misinterpreted them wrong. Some visions are metaphorical. Some a literal. I took the metaphorical visions for literal ones and paid the price."
"Now why would there be metathingy visions and actual visions?" Tyrian asked boredly, scraping his knives loudly in a way he did just because it annoyed Watts.
"And how could you even tell the difference?" Blake chipped in, quickly wilting as all three of them stared at her. Tyrian always looked cruel, taunting even, Hazel seemed surprised she'd spoken at all and Watts looked curious for the same reason.
"The gods are fickle things." Watts replied after a moment, voice more softer and quieter than it had been before. "It could also be a self-defence mechanism of sorts. If everyone knew silver-eyed magic gave you visions of the future then silver-eyed warriors would be hounded for prophetic visions. Not to mention the consequences if they refused such requests."
At that, Watts gestured to the table, where the bloodied body of a woman lay. She was still breathing, though it was ragged and short. Blake knew from experience that meant she was near death.
"You believe we'll receive visions that will give us clues towards the temple's location?" Hazel asked quietly, staring down at the barely breathing body sadly.
"I do." Watts replied. "I also believe if we're all exposed at once, they'll be a higher chance for a real vision to be experienced due to the subject's exhaustion weakening the self-defence mechanism."
"Will there be any adverse consequences?" Hazel asked. Watts shook his head.
"Not to my knowledge." He said after a moment's thought. "The real problem would be figuring out which visions are real or not."
"Very well." Hazel nodded, before he stepped forward and leaned next to the dying woman on the table. "I'm sorry we had to do this to you. Your body will receive the proper respect and funeral rites deserved by a fierce warrior who defends us from dragon-kind. May you have a better life in the afterlife than the one you suffered here."
The woman whimpered, Hazel nodded at Watts.
"Do what needs to be done. Blake? Tyrian? Come close."
Blake quickly did so. Tyrian made sure to sigh dramatically before similiarly doing so. Watts busied himself mixing together some concoction before he lathered it across the woman's wounds.
"It should only take a moment." Watts said as they awkwardly stood around the bloodied, naked almost corpse.
Then the woman screamed, and a flood of silver light filled the room..
Blake blinked. Then she took in her surroundings. Perhaps Watts was wrong in saying their hadn't been any adverse effects?
She was somehow at the top of the west Fang, staring into the abyss of what was once a dragon's lair. Bleached bones marked where the dragon had been slain, though it was broken and desecrated, likely by people stealing parts to sell.
Blake shrugged. It wasn't the first time she'd bugged out.
She turned to leave, only to feel the hairs on the back of her neck tingle. She stared into the lair. There was something there.
She made her way inside. It didn't feel dangerous. It felt…familiar. Necessary even. She needed it, whatever it was.
Then she saw it.
Hidden beneath the hulking head of the long dead dragon, a small ring glowed. It was made of a dark, almost purple metal, and the red rock that might've been a ruby was glowing an amber-orange hue, casting the lair in an ominous shadow. She kneeled down and picked it up. It would've been hard to see before, even with her Faunus vision. The colours made it blend into the ground of the dark cave.
There were markings on it. She recognised them. She'd seen them on the artefacts in the temples she had explored, first with Hazel, Watts and Tyrian and then by herself. They were markings of power. Markings of promise. Markings of the person, no the thing, which she needed.
She slipped the ring on her finger, curious at what she would see.
The temple. She'd finally made it. Jaune was next to her, looking around with wonder. She didn't know where Ruby was. There was a blonde girl. She looked a little bit like Jaune. Was it a sister perhaps? It didn't matter. Her presence complicated things. She didn't know why, she just knew she needed the sister to be gone.
"Why don't you guard outside the door?" Blake told her. The blonde raised an eyebrow. "I don't really know what will happen, so I'd rather we have someone as strong as you at the door in case it tries closing."
The blonde looked at Jaune, who shrugged helplessly and smiled dorkably. The girl shrugged and smiled back at him, before glancing at her with a look that could only be described as suspicious before leaving the large room at the centre of the temple.
How did Blake know she was strong? Who was she?
It didn't matter. Blake could do what she needed to do now. Though for some reason the prospect of that only filled her with dread.
She and Jaune faced the altar.
"What do we do now?" Jaune asked, looking around the altar curiously. "There aren't any instructions or anything. No symbols or glyphs or anything. Just a slab of rock."
It wasn't just a slab of rock. It was gift giver. Something that drew attention. She needed to draw the attention of the power. But how could she do that?
There was a knife at her belt. It wasn't hers. She couldn't remember when she picked it up, but she knew she had acquired it recently. But when was recently? Was this the future?
The blade was decorated, elaborate. There were inscriptions on the hilt. Suddenly Blake realised. It was a sacrificial dagger. But who was she to sacrifice?
Blake ripped off the ring and through into the dark abyss of the cave, panting heavily. Her temples throbbed. Her brain hurt. Her heart was beating in her chest which had tightened as if it had been sewn shut.
She wouldn't. She couldn't.
Could she? If it meant finally achieving her life's mission, could she honestly say she wouldn't do it?
Blake couldn't. And that worried her far more than she could ever have imagined possible.
She turned and stormed out of the cave, quickly making her descent as quickly as she could. She needed warm food and a stiff drink. She had a lot to think about.
A/N: I've got a new upload schedule. Instead of one chapter a month (like I did before the quick uploads) I'll be doing three chapters a month. Basically something like this:
5th (day of that month)- 1st chapter
15th (day of that month)- 2nd chapter
25th (day of that month)- 3rd chapter
I can do this because of a new hire at work who basically does my job at a junior level. I won't bore you with the details but basically I can work a little less and write a little more, so I'm increasing the uploads to reflect that.
Sorry for rambling and I hope you enjoy! :)