To the excellent Leadership of the Grand Army,

I write this report to you to confirm that the evacuation from Frontier Harbour

has been a success. About ninety percent of garrisoned troops and fifty

percent of the city’s population has arrived safely at the Mouths of the Kalde,

as has all relevant intelligence. Barring the dimwitted peasantry, the stubborn and the cultist traitors, everyone is out. We are searching for ways to accommodate them as we speak.

Justitia guide you,

Captain Wicker Thadon

Sanctullator, tossed the report onto the corner of his desk. Leaning back into his chair, He enjoyed a cup of fine Easgandian tea while rain gently caressed the windows of his study. Life was good. Every last one of his recent plans had been a success, a relief after the last few months.

Indeed, all was well in Justitian-governed Lokahn. After years of turbulence, Sanctullator had finally gotten a grip on this wild land. The times of roaming bandits plaguing the countryside and gangs recruiting in broad daylight were over; their members had all disappeared, too. Of course, some must’ve escaped to the hives out west, but that would be dealt with in due time.

A gale swept forth over the sprawling city, carrying rain and leaves as far as the naked eye could see. The citizens of this marvellous city had long deserted the streets, of course; those who remained trying their damndest to look inconspicuous to the soldiers training in the streets. What a pleasant sight it was to behold. And what a shame it was that none of the residents felt compelled to join them. Sanctullator sighed.

They’ll have to see the light one day. Maybe when the Military Directive lifts, and we can open this land to commerce again. Get them represented in the Senate, that sort of thing. Can’t wait on those damned Bailiffs to do the jobs, after all.

With one arm on the desk, Sanctullator lifted the teacup to his lips. It was empty. He reached for the reservoir nearby. It too, was empty. Frustrated, the general slammed his fist into the desk. “Ugh, how many times do I have to ask those damned fools to give me more than a puddle?!”

The whistle of the wind came from outside. Sanctullator got up, and was halfway to the door when it flew open. “General Sanctu-”

“What is it?!” Sanctullator shouted, before realising who it was. “Oh, General Gallie. It’s you. My apologies.”

The man shook his head, a frown visible on his brow. “Is this how you greet your peers, general?” he said calmly. Sanctullator bit his tongue; it was the sort of contradicting calm potent enough to unsettle the bravest.

Giggling came from behind Gallie. “Why yes, that’s the grumpy old bastard I remember! We’re in the right place, that’s for sure.” Sanctullator’s blood ran cold. That voice. That laugh. It couldn’t be anyone but…

“Hello, General Fur-Face! Miss me?” Bellona said, hands on her sides. That everso punchable grin rested on her face, and another stripe had materialized on her shoulders. Oh Justitia be damned, I thought I sent this arrogant bitch off to the border, why is she here?! Without a care in the world, she leaned against a pillar close to Sanctullator’s desk, in the middle of the room.

“General Gallie, may I ask what the meaning of this is?”

Bellona laughed. “Come on now, fur-face. This isn’t how to say hi to someone you haven’t seen in months, let alone me, is it? After all I’ve done, I was expecting more, you know.”

The white mustache shrugged. “You asked me to bring in the finest Captains currently in service, did you not?”

Sanctullator shook his head. Finest captains, my ass… “That’s true. Are you certain she falls under that category?”

Gallie folded his arms. “Why wouldn’t she? Her service record is immaculate. Two dragons slain, dozens of scoundrels brought to justice, and a cunning, motivating leader. She is more than qualified for the task at hand, would you not agree?” I’m sure she has other ‘talents’ you’re interested in, old crank.

Sanctullator sighed, provoking another round of laughter from Bellona. “Face it, wolf-man. If you care about stamping out all that cultist lunacy out west, you’ll have to deal with me. I’ve had the misfortune of growing up around that filth, you know.”

Without a word said back, Sanctullator pressed on, trying his hardest to pretend Bellona wasn’t breathing down his neck. “Right, where exactly are the other Captains? I asked for more than this, didn’t I?”

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A thunder crackled in the dark clouds outside. Many of the soldiers outside looked around erratically, shivering from hours spent training in the cold autumn rains. “They are busy people, Sanctullator. No need to worry, eventually they’ll all come to the Citadel to introduce themselves. You need not be impatient. Shouldn't you instead worry about a coming rebel offensive? They're bound to try and push out from the Occidentis Mountains.”

“Yes, I'm working on that... Why is she the only one here?” groaned Sanctullator.

Bellona threw her hands onto the desk. “Well, general fur-face, I believe I can explain that myself. That boring borderpost was just about the dullest place in the whole empire. Nothing happened there beyond an occasional thug bumbling his way through, and I mean absolutely nothing. So, like anyone else with common sense, when Gallie offered me a way out, I was all too glad to accept it. That clear?”

Groaning, Sanctullator rested his elbows on the desk. “If you say so, Captain.” Maybe I should’ve sent her out west, and let the dragons take care of her… arrogant bitch, I didn’t get this far in life so I could hear this garbage. ‘Wolf-man', ugh!

Gallie cleared his throat. “Leaving that aside, what of the evacuation from Frontier Harbour, General Sanctullator? Was it successful?”

Sanctullator pushed Captain Thadon’s report towards the general. “You can read it for yourself. All relevant intel, and most of the garrison and civilians have been evacuated. I would call that a success, alright.”

A smile spread across Gallie’s wrinkly face. “Splendid, General Sanctullator. Perhaps now we can focus on pushing back these cretins. They have been allowed to roam unchecked through those mountains for far too long.”

As one general’s optimism grew, so too did the other. “Indeed, the time has come. Let us begin discussing that matter, shall we?”

* * *

Silence held sway over the grove, as the clock struck midday. Worshippers were gathered on the gravel paths, all fallen onto their knees, venerating what they believed was the holiest creature in the world. The golden dragon himself, amber eyes shut tight as he gazed towards the sky. Small bonfires were alit, worshippers flanking them from all sides.

For these people, there was no greater honor. After years of suffering, their prayers had been answered at last. How they wished this quiet little prayer would never have to end.

“My lord, do you have time to spare?”

The golden dragon’s eyes gently opened, as did the soft rumble in his throat fizzle out. His ears flicked as a few jeers were raised, only to fall silent mere seconds later. With a sigh, he turned his attention towards the agitator, a blue dragon Lothar knew all too well.

“If it is important, Raghes.”

The blue dragon nodded. “It is, my lord. We ought to discuss this as soon as possible.”

Lothar grunted. “Hm, my friends, I do have to offer you my sincerest apologies. The imperial dogs continue to stray the path of darkness, hoping to wipe us out in the name of the Wicked Lady. Please, no ill will is intended, but I must ask you all to leave.”

The air took on a bitter taste, as dozens of Draconists in sober and tattered robes arose. Alas, today’s prayer had ended with a whimper. Raghes’ tail twitched erratically, a frown spreading across his brow as the Draconists refused to leave. “Lord Lothar, please, I’ve waited so long for this day...”

“Trust me, I feel your pain,” said Lothar, lowering his head to that of the protester. “But if I do not stay on guard, then all of you will be in danger. No one would defend Divinity if we all were drunk from a prayer-induced stupor.”

“Lord Lothar, I do not accept this at all! If we cannot pray in peace, then what?” a man yelled.

A confident smile spread across the golden dragon’s snout. “Our armies are always prepared to accept anyone with a fire burning in their heart, my friend. Perhaps if it burns brightly enough, there may be something very special in it for you,” he said, the latter with his wings half open.

Mouth half agape, the man took off with a burst of speed, his head craned back at the audience. “That settles it, I’m joining the Homefront! Who is with me?” A roar from the crowd came back as response; a minute later, they were all gone. Lothar grinned, stretching his wings to the fullest.

“There, there. Now then, Raghes, what is this matter you speak of?”

Raghes scratched his chest. “Well, it’s not about the Justitians, my lord. It’s about Merahn. After our latest mission together, I’m starting to worry about her.”

Lothar groaned. “This would not be the first time, Raghes.”

An uncomfortable frown appeared on Raghes’ face. “I understand, my Lord. But, I’ve overheard her say something very sinister during one of her blood-drunken rants, with my own two ears no less.”

“Explain yourself,” said Lothar, in a baritone voice. Raghes gulped. "Do not tell me I had to break up this monthly prayer so that you could whine about Merahn again."

“My lord, she is openly doubting your leadership due to your disapproval of the brutality she's so fond of. Worse, she's trying to win others over to her side with every dirty trick in the book. I'm getting a little afraid, honestly. We need to do something.”

Lothar grunted. “And how should I know these allegations to be the truth? Merahn is a dear friend of mine, I find it preposterous to believe she would abandon our case over such… petty pursuits.”

A scream echoed in the distant mountains. From the vibration in his ears, Lothar could tell it came from the east. Hm, there shouldn’t be any clashes now, he thought. Raghes shuddered, before finding the courage to respond.

“You must believe me, my lord. She has been bad mouthing everything from your supposed timidness, to your leadership at the battle of Westedge, and even your son. It’s unbelievable, but-”

“Say that again?” Lothar lowered his head to just above the blue dragon, staring him down with an eyebrow raised. His tail lashed into the gravel, erratic and dangerous to any unlucky passersby. Raghes swallowed his saliva.

“I mean, she claims him to be dead weigh-”

The golden dragon bared his teeth. “Listen to me, Raghes. Inform Merahn that I would like to have a word with her. In addition, tell Flaratia that I cannot be present for training, and give her my apologies. Understood?”

Raghes’ head bobbed up and down as fast as it could. “Yes my lord, I understand.”

“Go then, quickly.”

As the blue dragon flew off into the sunset, Lothar laid himself down in the shrine, his wings flicking open and close repeatedly. Alas, no amount of rest would ever lock away what had been unleashed.

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