Central Calendar Year 1639, Month 1, Day 24. 08:00 Hours. Morning. Rodenius, Eastern Sea.
The sun rose high over a sky of unbroken blue, heralding the start of another long day for the 6th Flying Dragon Squadron. Despite their name, they did not ride true dragons; rather, they flew upon a subspecies known as Wyverns—creatures far easier to tame and train, yet still formidable in the air. These riders formed an integral part of the Qua-Toyne Principality's air force, one of three major powers occupying the Rodenius continent. The other two were the Quila Kingdom and, to the west, the Louria Kingdom.
While the Qua-Toyne and Quila Kingdoms had long-standing alliances and shared societies composed of humans and non-humans, the Lourian stance stood in stark opposition. An aggressively expansionist regime, the Louria Kingdom prided itself on human supremacy, having long since purged or exterminated all non-humans from its borders. Their doctrine, uncompromising and brutal, had turned regional tensions volatile.
This ideological chasm made daily patrols like today's a grim necessity. The threat of invasion loomed constantly on the horizon—no direction could be dismissed, no hour taken for granted.
Numerically and economically, the Lourians held a clear advantage. But what they lacked in raw arcane power and diversity, their neighbors held in abundance. Non-human citizens—from elves to beastkin—bolstered the military with unique strengths. The wildlands, too, offered unpredictable allies: ancient beasts, wandering giants, mythical horrors, and even whispers of a dragon nesting near the western frontier.
Still, none within the skies of Rodenius knew of the force now drawing near from the eastern edge of the world.
It was not of this continent. Not of this era. And its arrival would shake the very foundations of all three nations, changing the course of their world forever.
Rodenius, Eastern Sea – 6th Flying Dragon Squadron
The rhythmic beating of wings filled the air as the 6th Squadron soared along the eastern coastline. If not for the looming threat of invasion by sea, it might have been a serene morning—an opportunity to admire the sweeping views and ocean breeze. But this was no time for tranquility. Tensions ran high. Reports—fragmented but troubling—had been circulating, suggesting the Louria Kingdom was amassing a formidable navy. Rumors added further concern: whispers that Louria had somehow acquired cannons, the kind typically used by the advanced nations of the Third Civilization Area. Anxiety gripped the Principality, and the unease among its people was palpable—understandably so, given the stakes.
"This is Control. 6th, have you sighted anything?" a voice crackled over the manacomms, the enchanted communication devices embedded in each rider's helmet, enabling seamless coordination across great distances.
"Nothing so far," replied Maarpatima, the squadron leader. "Sea and sky are clear—no signs of ships or any unauthorized wyverns in our airspace."
"Good. None of the other squadrons have reported anything unusual either," Control responded.
"With any luck, it'll stay that way. We'd like to be back soon. Any developments along the border?" Maarpatima asked.
"Nothing new at this time. The watchtowers and outposts are all reporting a clean sweep. Looks like another quiet day. Complete two more passes of your current area and return to base. Our naval scouts should have their report ready shortly," said Control.
"Understood. We'll complete the patrol and return shortly. Keep us informed if anything changes," Maarpatima acknowledged.
He let out a quiet sigh, adjusting the reins as he guided his wyvern westward along the shoreline. He would make another sweep of the coastal region before circling back. This had become routine over the past several weeks. A part of him almost wished Louria would just strike already—better to face the storm now than let it continue to build. Yet a preemptive strike was unthinkable. Doing so would hand Louria exactly what it wanted—a justification for war, a validation of its hateful rhetoric against non-humans. For Maarpatima, it was clear: Louria wanted them to strike first.
"Louria… what are you planning?" he murmured under his breath.
"This might be another dull day," a rider said through the manacomms. "They've got us patrolling nonstop, but how could Louria even get here by sea? The sea breakers are treacherous, and those waters are full of monsters."
"Even the best ships from the Third Civilization Area would struggle in these waters. Honestly, I think Command is overreacting," another rider chimed in.
"Part of me agrees, but still—we have to stay vigilant," Maarpatima replied. "And it's not just Louria. Pirate activity and smuggling have been increasing. That's another concern we can't ignore."
With the bulk of their naval forces focused on monitoring Louria's routes, opportunistic raiders had grown bolder in the eastern sea. There were even unconfirmed reports of a small pirate enclave forming on one of the southeastern islands off Rodenius. But with resources stretched thin, no force had yet been deployed to verify or root them out.
"Hold on. Do you hear that?" one of the riders suddenly asked.
The squadron came to a halt. Apart from the usual sounds—the flapping of wyvern wings, the crashing of waves against the coast—there was something else. A growing roar echoed through the sky. Scanning the cloudless blue expanse, they spotted it: a black speck. Small at first, but closing in fast.
"What in the gods' names is that?" a rider exclaimed, pointing at the approaching object.
As it drew closer, the full enormity of the anomaly revealed itself. It was massive—far larger than any dragon they had seen—and eerily unmoving. Grey in color, it had no wings, no limbs, no visible means of propulsion, yet it emitted a deafening roar. The object sailed through the air with unnatural smoothness, on a straight trajectory, without even the slightest shift in its form.
"Command! We have a problem!" Maarpatima shouted into his manacomms, turning sharply to pursue. "A massive unknown object is heading straight for Maihark! We can't catch it—it'll reach the city in moments!"
Maihark was one of the Qua-Toyne Principality's major seaports and a vital trade hub. If this object posed any threat at all, the consequences would be catastrophic. The riders urged their wyverns into full flight, straining to close the distance—but the object was impossibly fast.
"It's no use, sir! We're flying at top speed—we can't catch it!" one rider called out in frustration.
"We still need to try!" Maarpatima shouted back, refusing to relent.
The 6th Squadron pressed forward with everything they had, but the mysterious object continued its course unhindered, vanishing toward the horizon. It showed no signs of slowing. No shifting, no turning—just unwavering flight. Within moments, it had disappeared from view.
And the sky fell silent once more.
Rodenius. Qua-Toyne Principality. Maihark. Wyvern Control Tower.
The transmission from the 6th Riders plunged the entire tower into sudden, urgent motion. Operators shouted over one another, couriers dashed through tight corridors, and the air thickened with the weight of something imminent. Outside, the warning bell tolled over Maihark, its mournful ring a cry of alarm that rippled across the city. At its sound, the citizenry reacted with swift precision—shutters slammed shut, doors locked, streets cleared as if choreographed by instinct. Whatever was approached had set the city's nerves on edge.
Within the control tower, personnel pressed in around the manacomms, straining to discern the garbled voice carried through the crystal's resonance.
"Repeat your last message—what exactly is coming our way?" one officer demanded, his breath fogging the crystal as he leaned closer.
"It's not moving any limbs, and it's flying fast—faster than any living thing I've seen. I don't even think it's alive," came the crackling response, the rider's voice distorted by interference. "I don't know what it is or what it intends, but it's headed straight for Maihark."
"Understood. We're initiating full defensive measures. Intercept it if you can. At the very least, track it," the officer ordered, already signaling for coordination teams to begin.
"We're trying… but it's too fast. It's just a speck now," the rider returned, a trace of awe mingling with frustration.
The room fell into tense silence for a moment as soldiers and officers exchanged glances. The rider's uncertainty, the very nature of the unknown, disturbed even the most seasoned veterans. Something unfamiliar approached—an enigma in the skies—and that alone made it dangerous.
"Deploy all wyvern squads! Man every fortress tower—archers and mages to the walls!" the commander thundered, his voice a lash of authority that cut through the din.
Orders were relayed in flawless rhythm. Outside, rows of wyverns were led from their pens, their powerful wings twitching with unease. Sensing the urgency in their handlers, they growled and snorted, smoke curling from their nostrils. Riders mounted swiftly, securing weapons and charms. One after another, the beasts launched into the sky, their wings beating with thunderous rhythm as they climbed into formation. In mere minutes, the skies above Maihark swarmed with wyverns.
"All units airborne, sir," an officer reported, saluting sharply.
"Good... Let us hope this isn't the prelude to our worst fears," the commander murmured, loud enough for those nearby to hear.
An attack from the Lourian Kingdom had long been anticipated. It was not a matter of if, but when. Yet this—this-this presence was different. Foreign. And perhaps far worse. If it was an omen of what was to come, their faith and steel alone would not suffice.
Beyond the walls, along the battlements lining the edge of the city, archers and mages waited in disciplined silence. Ballistas stood loaded and ready, all aimed at the heavens. At the front stood Captain Ine of the Maihark Defense Knight Corps, poised and still, her longbow in hand. Her gaze swept the vast eastern sky with the intensity of a seasoned hunter.
"Nothing yet… Did they say what direction or what it looked like?" asked an archer beside her, adjusting his grip.
"All we know is that it's coming from the east… and that it's big," Ine answered, her voice low, composed, but edged with unease.
"Comforting," someone muttered behind her.
"Quiet… Listen," Ine said suddenly, her brows furrowing.
The bell had ceased. In its place, a strange hum now rose—low, metallic, and growing. Heads turned. Eyes squinted toward the eastern sky. A black dot emerged from the horizon, barely visible at first. Yet it grew with disquieting speed and clarity. The air itself seemed to pulse beneath its advance.
Then, it breached the clouds.
It was massive. Metallic. Gray. Smooth and seamless in motion. It didn't flap wings or move appendages. It wasn't alive—but it moved with uncanny precision, as if guided by purpose beyond comprehension. Within moments, it passed overhead, eclipsing a wide swath of the fortress and casting a dark shadow over the city below.
"Gods above… Do we fire?!" one of the archers cried, eyes wide, his voice betraying disbelief.
Wyvern riders closed in, attempting to intercept. But the object accelerated, outpacing them with effortless velocity. It offered no aggression, no recognition, no reaction. It simply glided past—utterly unbothered—and continued westward at impossible speed.
Silence followed, oppressive and unnatural.
"So… it's not attacking?" Ine asked, bewilderment lacing her words.
It had flown past. A flyby, nothing more. Yet its presence lingered like the tremor after a quake. They all felt it—an unshakable certainty that something larger was unfolding. Something they did not yet understand.
"I think… we're in the clear," someone ventured at last, but the words rang hollow.
As the strange object diminished into the distance, vanishing like a specter into the west, those who remained on the walls stared after it in silent contemplation. What had it meant? Was it a scout? A warning? A prelude?
For the moment, the skies returned to stillness.
But it would not last.
Another encounter was coming.
Qua-Toyne Principality. Maihark Naval Base. Three days since the unknown object flew over Maihark.
As the day wore on, no further sightings of the mysterious object were reported over Maihark. According to scattered reports, it had passed silently over several other towns and cities, always without incident. It never attacked, never altered course—it simply moved, unchallenged and enigmatic. Yet, within the naval base, a sense of foreboding remained. To those stationed there, its behavior suggested something far more deliberate: reconnaissance. For Nouka, the commander of Maihark's naval forces, the true concern now was the sea. The object had come from the east—a region largely uncharted, consisting of nothing but miles upon miles of open ocean. Many had tried to explore it over the years, from merchants to adventurers of every stripe. All had failed. The reason: the so-called shipbreakers—cataclysmic storms and waves that tore apart even the sturdiest vessels and obliterated any hope of further exploration.
"Nouka… I've brought the latest report, sir. There's something of interest here," said an officer, stepping into the commander's office and standing at attention before his desk.
"Thank you. Everyone's been running themselves ragged. We've doubled patrols across all sea lanes, yet there's still been no sightings of that flying object," Nouka replied, taking the scroll from the officer and unrolling it with practiced ease. His eyes narrowed. "This report… It's nearly a week old."
"That's on us, sir. With everything that's happened, some dispatches were delayed. But this one stands out. It describes a sighting—an unknown ship. Not just unknown, but something... unprecedented. According to the witness, it's made entirely of metal. Enormous. Dwarfs anything in our fleet, anything we've ever heard of. It appeared, swept through the area, then turned back east."
Nouka set the scroll down slowly, fingers tapping against the desk in thought. "I've heard rumors of a distant nation that sails metal ships, but they're half a world away. Even if the stories are true, they shouldn't be able to reach us so easily."
He exhaled and leaned back in his chair, fatigue edging his voice. "And now we're stretched too thin to respond properly."
"What do you propose, sir?" the officer asked, eyes steady.
"I have contacts," Nouka replied, his gaze fixed on a distant point beyond the window. "Special ones. One of them owes me a few favors."
Over the years, he had cultivated discreet arrangements with individuals operating beyond the bounds of the Qua-Toyne Principality. These unofficial connections allowed him to keep certain dealings off the record and gather information through lesser-known trade routes and shadow networks.
Now, one such smuggler would need to settle an old debt.
Nouka only hoped the man was still capable—and that whatever was out there didn't bring more than they were ready to face.
Edited thanks to ELE73CH