“Despite his youthful appearance, Joshua is actually a decade older than me. It has been seven years since I was officially inaugurated as King - a ceremony hosted upon the advent of my adulthood at the age of eighteen - and yet the Seraph’s Templar has not changed one bit since those days. I have heard tell of those particularly blessed by Creation to age slower than others, but Joshua is a special case even among them.

“His personality is ever the same: a cordial gentleman through and through. Even when he is mocked by another for his pedigree, he greets them with a smile, and he never treats another with disdain or rudeness. Joshua is a very kind person. But… I don’t know why. At times, my intuition will ache, warning me of something I cannot see. It tells me to be wary around him, and it conflicts me. I trust in my instinct, but I also want to trust in my friends. When the two clash against each other, which one am I to truly believe?”

- 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 is manifested, 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 towards, 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.”

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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 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 Templar’s 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 waves to the geography of the south. “In regards 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 front-lines.”

Cain and Abel both sigh in unison. They 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 choke-points 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. They are unable to take advantage of this whilst invading, but 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. Though, 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’s ray 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 palms 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.”