"Despite the hardship, however, I cared for Surasha however much I was able. She was always a sickly child, so whatever food I could forage was always given to her. I was content with the scraps and pledged to raise her so that she would not undergo the same difficulties as I did. I wanted her to go to school, to never worry about hunger and pursue a dream of her own. Once I was old enough, I planned for us to move closer to the capital, where I would then earn money by taking up whatever jobs I could beg for. I would’ve been satisfied being a simple merchant; and when Surasha no longer needed my support, I would explore the world and visit those far off lands I had only ever heard of."

  —King Ascalon, Ruler of the Polus Monarchy

  ———

  Ascalon

  The king descends his seat and makes way to the round table. All seven Templars have gathered. And while Sarathiel of Steel has yet to arrive and complete the Thrones… he would likely prefer to not attend. Ascalon understands his circumstances, his hesitation to be in the audience of those he has wronged, but it is a shame. The man cannot seclude himself forever; someday, he must atone for his mistakes.

  Nevertheless, the assembly must go on. With a wave of his hand and a quick whisper to Creation, a grand map manifests, and thus is displayed the world in its entirety: the Four Nations and Two Great Regions. Ceramic figures are situated here and there, representing various barricades and fortresses standing tall along the border, and large blocks symbolize the concentration of forces garrisoned in the area.

  “At the current time, our numbers boast around 700,000 strong with the inclusion of both winged and wingless knights,” Ascalon says. “A fourth of our forces are defending the capital. Another fourth are scattered along the borders near the Thaumaturgy to the east and Ishmahab to the north. That leaves the remaining half to contend with the southern Caelum legion. There are three matters we must address today: the time granted to us until this campaign fails, how many knights to take, and which routes to invade through. Let us begin with the first.”

  Everyone is silent at first - gazes lowered in thought - but eventually a hand is raised, and Dismas begins to speak. “It’s a tricky situation. Our best bet is to attack the capital while that old crow Xeros is gone, but that means we’ll hav’ta hurry. He left, what, a month ago for the Steppe?”

  “Right you are, Dismas!” Joshua says with a light chuckle. “I was gliding about, you know - stretching my wings and getting some much-needed fresh air - when I just so happened to float on by near the Caelum capital.”

  “Just so happened?” Cain mutters, anger creeping up his throat. “You disappeared is what happened. For weeks, at that. When the legionaries first began to behave oddly, and we were uncertain whether it was a ploy or the preface of a sudden attack, you suddenly vanished into thin air and left the Seraph in a state of panic.”

  “Haha, don’t be like that, little Cain. I did tell someone, you know! Your brother in fact. I left a note by his bedside and everything.”

  “And I do appreciate the fair bit of warning,” Abel says hesitantly. “But… your note was rather sparse. ‘I’ll be gone for a short while. Take care of everything in my stead, please and thank you!’ Does not tell us much of your intentions, I’m afraid.”

  The Principality’s Templar does make a fair point, but Joshua only responds with a puzzled expression as if he cannot understand what the problem is. “Really? Oh, I do apologize if that’s the case. You two brothers are just so dependable and competent that I assumed you would be able to handle things in my absence. Was I wrong? Was it troubling for you? Oh dear me, how rude I must have been. Truly, the shame is mine to bear…”

  The two brothers squirm in their seats as a repentant Joshua continues to berate himself with a sad, pitiful murmur. His looks are akin to that of a small animal: tiny and with clear, sparkling eyes. His is a face one cannot possibly be irate toward, and so a flustered Cain eventually lets out an awkward cough and bids him to stop. “Cease your self-deprecation, Sir Joshua. While I am still rather displeased with your conduct, no harm was caused in the end, and it is thanks to your investigation that we know of the Grand General’s leave. All I ask is that you be more clear with your intent if you are ever to repeat such sudden voyages.”

  Joshua bounces back almost immediately with his usual cheerfulness and gives the shy Cain a bright smile. “Of course! Worry not, I’ll make sure to leave an extra-long note next time.”

  “That is not what I meant—”

  “Anyways, while I was peeking from the clouds, there were these big, scary looking machines all rolling out of the city, and it was then I spied a familiar looking scowl getting on board. My, they sure were in a hurry. The Steppe is quite far, but with their pace I’d say it’ll take about, hm, maybe two months? And then another two coming back. That’s a four month round trip! Dear me, Xeros must be quite confident to leave little ol’ us alone for that long.”

  Ascalon clasps his hands together, leaning forward and squinting his eyes in concentration as he assesses Joshua’s information. “Four months… so we have until the start of autumn to subjugate the empire. A fair period, but it may not be enough.”

  To launch a campaign, one must consider the needs of their combatants. The strain of the elements, the available rations, and the coordination to move such large bodies: all of this requires careful planning and much time to prepare—not to mention the inevitable delay when injuries begin to mount.

  “But at least we have a conclusive date. Now, what of the numbers? How many knights can we afford to send?”

  Deborah is the one to speak first this time. “We should have a lot. The only reason we have so many people defending the capital in the first place was because of Xeros and his spies. Now that he’s gone, I doubt we’ll need to be as attentive, so we can probably spare maybe… about half? If we thin the ranks along the Ishmahab and Augurium borders, we’ll have even more to join with the front-line.”

  Then joins Annalay as she utters a loud grumble. “Ah, I’ve been meaning to talk to you about that, Ascalon. Do we really need that many people up there? I doubt that shut-in Astrologian and the old crone will try to invade us. It’s a waste of our numbers.”

  “While we are currently in good relations with the two states,” Ascalon says. “That does not mean we can be entirely at ease. Latizia the Gold-Blooded is a very ambitious woman, and the chances of her turning on us are high if our weakness is to be revealed. With the Monarch’s Wings, I can protect the capital in the worst-case scenario of an invasion, but my power alone will not be enough to fend off her army. Arch Magus Faust, meanwhile, is a stalwart ally. He is not one to betray the trust of others, but I am less concerned with him and more of the warring tribes in the desert. We are already asking much of the good man to pressure Caelum’s front; with his absence, the people of the sands will be more active, and I am afraid weakening our border will only encourage them to expand their territory.”

  Annalay sags her shoulders and lets out a disappointed grunt, as do the others in the room. Unfortunately, the world is never so peaceful: When one threat subsides, another looms. Though, I suppose this conundrum affects both sides. Thus is why Xeros now seeks new alliances.

  “However, it is not as if we cannot withdraw some forces,” he continues, to which the Templars respond with a hopeful gaze. “Just enough for us to retain appearances. I would say maybe an additional 50,000?”

  “That’ll be enough!” Deborah exclaims, shifting excitedly in her seat. “With that, we should have around half a million to lead the advance.”

  “Indeed, it shall be greater than any we have amassed thus far. But even with such large number, it matters not without a decisive route.” Ascalon raises his hand and gestures to the geography of the south. “In regard to defense, we are fortunate to be surrounded by such treacherous terrain: the Aeternum to the west, the swamplands farther south, the mountain tops dividing the valleys, and the dunes snaking along the east. Caelum has little way of invasion, and so we have held strong thus far by reinforcing those pivotal points. But that, in turn, goes against our favor as well. Each environment hosts their own challenges, and we will risk exhausting our troops before they even reach the Caelum’s bastions. The only clear method forward is through the frontlines.”

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  Cain and Abel look at each other, neither one willing to speak first, until eventually Abel emerges the loser in their contest of wills. “If I am to be honest, your majesty, there is little hope in that path for us even with such excess knights. The legion is currently dwindled, yes, but Caelum boasts a much large population than we do—not to mention the countless fortresses and chokepoints along the path.

  “Aggressors, by nature, shall always be at a disadvantage. To take over a bastion would require double, no, triple the number of opposing forces. And, though I loathe to admit it, Caelum simply has more advanced technology than we do. Know we shall face adversity like never before if we lay siege.”

  “Yeah, and that’s not all,” Dismas says, tapping his finger on the location of the Caelum’s capital. “Soon as we’re spotted, ya can bet they’ll send reinforcements faster than we can react. Their supply line’s too strong; the whole army’ll be recalled, and then we risk Libevich comin’ after us. Can we win? Maybe, but it sure as hells won’t be ‘fore Xeras returns. And by then…”

  “… We’ll be screwed,” Surasha grunts. “Yeah, it’s impossible. I’d rather take my chances with the swamps than brute forcing our way through. It’s not like we have to take the wingless knights with us. Why don’t we just gather all the Seraph and storm the capital ourselves while the others cause a distraction?”

  Upon her proposal, Soloman stirs to life from his supposed inactivity and begins to write in the air by bending light around his finger. “Not enough” is illustrated. “Power not enough. Capital too fortified.”

  “Haha, he’s right you know,” Joshua says. “My order’s already lacking in members to begin with, not to mention all the fancy anti-air defenses Xeros has plastered all over his city. Without the ground troops, we’ll just be shot down from the sky one by one.”

  “Then what’re we supposed to do!?” she shouts, suddenly standing up and slamming her palm against the table. “Stars, this is all a waste of time. We can’t do this, we can’t do that… Caelum’s weaker than ever and we’re still this helpless. Is there even anything we can do?”

  Ascalon can feel her frustration well, and though he wants to reassure her, in truth he is just as concerned. I knew it would be difficult, but to think our options would be this bleak despite all our efforts. Is there truly no hope for us?

  None of the Templars respond. They cannot refute her, nor can they offer any other solution. In the end, it appears the campaign will be smothered before it can even begin.

  But then, a voice is raised. A voice from one who has remained silent this entire gathering until now.

  It is the voice of Lorelai, and she speaks with such confidence, such utter certainty, that all in the chamber are drawn to her decree.

  “I have a plan.”

  “Truly?” Ascalon says, barely holding himself back from leaping up in joy. “Have you discovered another path?”

  Lorelai crosses her arms and slowly leans over the round table before placing a finger on a point far from the frontlines. “This fortress here… the Magnus Murus I believe it is called? I saw mentions of it whilst perusing the archive earlier.”

  “Hm? That ol’ thing?” Dismas questions. “I know of it. There used to be a trail connectin’ that path with Polus centuries ago, but now the way’s blocked by a deep marsh. Hasn’t seen use in a long time; the fortress supposedly serves as a testing ground now for whatever metal monstrosities Caelum’s tinkering with.”

  “Indeed. It is an abandoned path, isolated from the empire’s supply line, and it is also the most straightforward. Two vast gorges surround the stronghold, and the only exit leads directly to their capital. All we need is conquer a single blockade for there to be none left halting our march.”

  Joshua sways back and forth in his seat, all the while staring with an expressionless face ill-suited of his youthful demeanor, before he lets a smile creep forth once more and laughs out in a bright chuckle. “Haha, how tricky of you, Lorelai! Very amusing. With those gorges, they have naught but one method of escape: one road to trot if they wish to send a messenger for reinforcements. But if I were to take the Seraph and fly behind the fortress… oh, how very tricky indeed. Trapped like rats in a steel coffin. You’ve grown more cunning, my friend. I like it.”

  “Um, hold on a second now—” Surasha interrupts, turning her head to the others as if they’ve all lost their minds. “If it were that easy, we would’ve already brought it up by now. It’s just like Dismas said: There’s a large marsh in that area, and frankly that type of terrain is the absolute worst for our wingless knights. The mud, the swamp, and that stale air… it'd take a small group months to get through, much less our entire army. We don’t have the time or energy for that kind of route.”

  But despite Surasha’s claims, Lorelai remains ever as composed. She simply tilts her head and asks one little question: “Is there truly no other way forward besides the marsh?”

  “Huh?”

  Lorelai shifts her attention farther north of the map, closer to where the kingdom lies, and waves to where a rocky canyon is situated. “Mind, I am supposing based only on textual information, but there should be a series of tunnels hidden below that connect all throughout the land. This canyon holds a cave to one such entrance, and assuming formations have not changed in the past age, I think likely a suitable path exists—one leading directly out to the Magnus Murus.”

  Silence. The room is stunned from the rigid Cain to even the stoic Soloman. If Ascalon could see their faces now, they would no doubt have their mouths open in surprise. The only one who bids to move is Surasha who quickly stands up and attempts to say a rebuttal, but she soon freezes in place and slowly lowers back to her seat as a look of contemplation washes over her.

  “Huh,” she mutters. “I… didn’t think of that.”

  “Certainly,” Abel says, tapping his foot and peering at the map. “It is a most astute observation, one unlikely to ever be made by us who deign to soar in yonder skies. However—”

  “It’s bad luck, really bad luck,” Deborah mutters. “Forget the Seraph, I don’t think there’s a soul in Polus who isn’t afraid of the underground. It’s been a superstition since our nation’s founding; convincing the knights to move through there is not going to be easy.”

  Their hesitation is palpable, but Ascalon cannot fault them. Even in the short time whilst he still lived with his family, the king has heard tales of the dangers lurking below. It is no exaggeration to say such fear is deeply rooted in all of Polus blood, and yet Lorelai sits there with genuine confusion.

  “Is it that great a fear?” she asks.

  “Very, my lady,” Cain says with a shudder. “For it was in the underground that the atrocity had claimed its hearth.”

  “… The Constellation?” Lorelai mumbles, her gaze turned upwards at some unseeable image.

  For some odd reason, she appears regretful, almost longing. But why exactly Ascalon does not know. This sight has become familiar to him now: sudden bouts where sadness takes hold of her, and she shies away from all others. He knows that a part of her still distrusts him despite all his efforts, but he doesn’t pry any further than she allows. Trust is a two-fold connection. He will wait, and one day, perhaps she will reveal the source of that remorseful stare.

  “Yes, I remember now,” she continues, shaking off the gloom. “It was in the stories of the first Seraph and the Comet, of how one sacrificed their life for the other, ambushed in the depths where the sun fails to shine. To think that trauma would ingrain itself so deeply into the people… but I don’t think a mere fable would inspire such continued aversion. Is there another reason?”

  Surprisingly, Annalay is the one to speak further about the legends. “Ahem,” she coughs, awkwardly looking around and deciding if she truly wishes to put herself forth. But the Nature’s Throne is never one to deliberate for long, and in the end, she tosses aside her shame. “I know a little bit about that. It’s a children’s rhyme; my, hah, mother used to sing it to me when I was little before bed. Wanted to scare me into behaving by using the Constellation as some damned monster that would spirit me away. How did it go again? Ah, right—

  “The Valkyrie’s light had shone so bright, none could possibly compare.

  But on that day her light had sunk, filling all with despair.

  Heed my words, o’ children of the sky

  The underground is filled with naught but peril, for to traverse it means your end is nigh.

  The atrocity, the scourge, the creature of night.

  The Constellation lurks in the dirt and filth, waiting to swallow you in one bite.”

  “Oh, I remember that one!” Deborah giggles. “Wow, that sure takes me back. It gave me such a fright when I first heard it that I couldn’t sleep for days.”

  Ascalon raises his hand and interrupts her before the topic can devolve any further. “Regardless, that fear remains ever present among the people. I am sorry, Lorelai, but while your proposal is the most reasonable we’ve had thus far, it is unlikely the people will agree to it. We must find another solution.”

  It really is a shame. However, Ascalon does not want to subject his people to such terror if they wish against it. To force them into that tight and maddening space… he knows his words have power, and the knights are likely to follow his command to the last breath, but to take advantage of their loyalty would make him no better than the likes of Xeros.

  But, for a second, Ascalon pauses. A strange feeling stirs within his chest, burning. Aching. And when he looks up to face Lorelai, she stares at him with a look that pierces into his very soul. Even now, she refuses to relent, and her lips part to speak a few, striking words.

  “Do you really believe that, Ascalon?”