“Two more ground groups found,” the communication fury announced in the war room.

The role had been established by Dallion, who decided that it would be more efficient for one fury to make the announcements rather than everyone. The notion seemed logical, yet as it turned out, the awakened world had a different way of doing things. From what Vihrogon had explained, it was more common for the decision makers to have the echoes and receive the information directly. Lacking that, they would split into hundreds of instances and maintain direct communication with everyone of importance. Dallion’s method, as weird as it appeared to everyone, had the benefit that it made the information just as accessible to non-awakened as everyone else.

“One of them managed to create a beam portal before being killed.” There was a slight pause. “One cloud fort was lost.”

That wasn’t the sort of report Dallion liked to hear. Somehow, despite all his attempts, the enemy continued to chip away at his forces. Granted, it was considerably less than had he not taken command, but having lost three cloud forts in a matter of hours couldn’t be seen as a good start of a campaign. In turn, the Azures had lost a few dozen people, all of them low-level mages and, if Dallion were to guess, with symbiotic echoes.

“Increase the distance between forts, but continue to cover the entire ground,” Dallion ordered.

There’s no need for that, Vihrogon said in a calm fashion. If you’re concerned about losing forces, you should just have more furies in the skies.

Dallion thought about it, but didn’t add anything.

Nil, any specific spells I should be worried about? He asked.

Adzorg, the mage, sighed. I’d suggest moving closer to the ground as we approach the vortex fields. Too much of your force is in the sky. That makes them an easy target.

For example?

Air-based storms, for one thing. Easy to trigger, difficult to stop. At best, they’ll disorganize things and keep furies and mages busy unravelling air currents. At worst…

“Have all forts on the front line fly closer to the ground,” Dallion ordered. Thanks, Adzrog.

My pleasure, dear boy. I must say the current role suits you well.

For some reason, he didn’t feel that as a compliment. The whole transition to a domain ruler felt strange and natural at the same time. In the blink of the eye, so many of his past problems seemed so petty and insignificant. Stranger still, they weren’t replaced by a new set of problems, but rather opportunities. As much as Dallion hated himself for thinking in terms of managerial phrases found on the internet, it was true in the very real sense of the word. Being a noble acknowledged that he had made it. From here on, everything seemed like a huge game of rivalries—finding means to grow faster than others like him, but not so fast as to alarm those above.

“Is Katka here, yet?” he turned to a crimson fury by the entrance.

“The battle mage informed that there are matters she had to attend to before making her way here.”

There was no telling whether that was true, or the woman was just being petty because of Dallion’s sudden rise. Weeks ago, he was her subordinate. Now things had changed due to the imperial decree. Unfortunately, it was Dallion’s turn to need her assistance. If he tried to impose his authority too much, she might rebel in subtle and not-so-subtle ways… just as he used to.

“I’ll go see her myself,” he said with a deliberate edge in his voice. “Di, keep an eye on things here. I won’t take long.”

The ice fury nodded. On her shoulders, the cloud fox opened its eyes. No longer forced to hide or condense into pieces of jewelry, it felt at home among the clouds, spending most of its time curled up on its owner. Even so, it remained just as protective, hissing at anyone who didn’t take Diroh seriously.

Walls of cloud opened up for Dallion as he walked, providing direct access to where he wanted to go. Casting a flight spell, he made his way out of the cloud fort, right to the one Katka was on. There was no need to ask for directions—her cloud was double the size of the standard ones. Also, Dallion could see the concentration of magic clear as day. In his eyes, most of the forts looked like dull clumps of neon light with fireflies flickering within. Alien and the battle mages were considerably brighter, visible as purple candle flames even from a distance; and Katka’s cloud had lots of candle flames.

You can chill a bit, you know, Vihrogon said. The greatest mistake rookie commanders make is to stress out before the fight.

I’m calm, Dallion lied.

As calm as a platypain in a barrel of hedgerels, the guardian snorted. Enjoy the calm while you have it. There will be more than enough chaos to come. One thing about wars—you might have an idea when they’ll start, but you never know when they’ll end.

Talking from experience?

Something like that.

A crack of blue sky appeared on the horizon, disturbing the blackness of the night. For some reason there hadn’t been any Moons in the last two days—nothing but constellations. In calmer times, one might have found that soothing, not now, though. It wasn’t like the Moons to look away before the start of a battle.

Furies stood to attention in midair, as Dallion flew by. The moment he set foot on Katka’s fort, he was greeted by one of the armor wearing crimson furies which held the rank of fort commander. The obvious lack of mages indicated that at least one group of people had issues with his newfound authority.

A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

All part of Academy politics, dear boy, Adzorg said. Better brace yourself for a lot of passive aggressiveness.

Did that happen when you were archmage?

You’d be surprised. There’s a good part, though.

Which is?

In nine cases out of ten, the passive aggressive greeting is followed by a lot of ass kissing.

“Welcome, battle mage,” the male fury said with a polite bow. “We are honored by your presence. Battle mage Katka is expecting you in her quarters.”

Dallion’s music skills told him that was an obvious lie. The last thing the woman wanted was to see him right now. Her typical brand of envy emanated all the way through the layers of cloud matter, as if she were yelling at the top of her lungs.

“I’m glad.” Part of Dallion surprised himself with his answer. “Lead the way.”

Katka was in her room, as was stated. Several healing circles were active around her, attempting to reconstruct patches of burned flesh. However, as soon as the top layer crumbled off, the one beneath curdled and dried up again, as if the spell afflicting her was still in effect.

“Hello, hello,” she greeted him the moment he walked in. “I would have been with you in a bit.”

“No one told me about this.”

“Memory spell,” she said calmly, gesturing for the fury to leave. “Limited, but good enough everything considered. Congratulations on the promotion, by the way. I heard that the emperor himself called you. Lucky. I’ve only seen him half a dozen times, and never alone.”

This changed Dallion’s calculation somewhat. Up to now, he had assumed that he could rely on Katka to defend part of the vortex fields. Apparently, she was the one needing defense. Looking closely, he could see the spells’ magic strands interwoven among her own threads. As long as they were there, they would continue the effect.

“How did it happen?”

“Not sure, to be honest. The attack was my mess up, but the spell was new. It wasn’t anything I’d seen before.”

Nymph magic, the harpsisword guardian said in Dallion’s domain.

“It burned through three others before it went through my barriers and onto my skin. Lucky I survived.”

Very lucky, Harp added. It’s a battle spell meant to burn through walls.

I don’t remember the Academy teaching anything of the sort.

It doesn’t, Adzorg said. A few nymph spells have been reconstructed thanks to excavation finds, but nothing this powerful. I would have known.

No chance they could have kept it hidden?

Dear boy, if they had such knowledge half a year ago, why do you think they’d make an arrangement with me?

Moving closer, Dallion concentrated, focusing on the threads in the wound. They were worse than dog hair stuck in a woolen sweater. Taking them out would be possible, but he had to be careful about it.

“I’ll try to remove the spell,” he said.

“I already tried that. The pain made me faint. The slow and steady method will have to do,” she said with a hiss. “To think I’d ever end up quoting my teachers from the Learning Hall. Life does come with its ironies.”

“Just hold still.” Dallion split into twenty instances.

With exact precision, he extended his own magic threads beyond the tips of his fingers, creating the equivalent of minuscule pincers. Once that was done, he slowly grabbed hold of one of the less entangled spell fragments and pulled.

The absorption was instantaneous, but painful. For a moment, he felt as if a hedgehog had rolled up in his hand. It was only the high body trait that kept him from flinching.

“Has anyone told you the situation?” he asked, pulling out another strand. This time, his action was more precise than the last. Two down, about a few hundred left to go.

“That you’re my boss now? Yes, I heard.” She looked at the affected spot on her left arm. “How did you boost your magic so much?”

“Luck.” Two more strands were pulled out. Three quarters of his instances were far from successful, resulting in the woman’s skin ripping. The sight wasn’t pretty, forcing Dallion instantly to fade out the instances in question. “If we don’t stop Tisaku from reaching the vortexes, he’ll do the same.”

“I figured. So, what’s your plan? Something new, I bet,” she asked with a note of spite.

“We let them come to us.”

“You’re the new boss,” she said, giving the distinct impression that something similar had been attempted in the past. “Absorbing high-level vortexes doesn’t always end well, just in case you’re wondering.”

“It’ll be fine.” I have a Sword Marshal to advise me now. “That’s not why I’m here.”

“You want to use me as bait, don’t you? Why not? I did a stupid attack once, of course I’ll—”

“No,” he interrupted, pulling out three more strands. “I want you to teach me all the spells you know.”

Even without using music, the determination in his voice was enough to give Katka pause. He no longer sounded like an apprentice, or even a mage, but rather someone expecting to be obeyed.

“That will take a while. Are you sure?”

There was no need for a verbal response. A few minutes later, the two entered the realm of a random item and the teaching began. The exercises that Dallion couldn’t master in the Learning Hall were complete in seconds. After a few more attempts to gauge his skill, Katka gave up and just started demonstrating her spells, one after the other. Now and again, she would offer to teach him the method of how to make his own, yet each time he declined with polite firmness.

Days passed, then weeks. It took time to accumulate what the woman had learned in a lifetime, even if in the real world it would be done in a moment.

While the training took place, Dallion was clearly able to see all of Katka’s weaknesses. True, she excelled at speed and combat magic, but was vastly overconfident and not as fast as she thought herself to be. Dallion could see the errors—hastily corrected though her superior speed—the lapses in targeting, and the almost ever-present hesitation before casting anything above a ten-circle spell. It was no wonder she had never been made a battle mage during the previous regime. A talented amateur, she definitely didn’t have what it took, despite all the benefits that being an otherworlder granted her.

After two and a half months, there was nothing else of value that Katka could give. At that point, Dallion decided to put an end to the training.

“You’ve improved,” she admitted reluctantly. “But you’re still just a copycat.”

Dallion didn’t respond. For the moment, combining the spell elements he had amassed was going to serve him more than enough.

“I don’t know how to perform the ray spell,” Katka added. “Battle mages teach each other, no outsiders. It’s the same for all battle magic.”

“We won’t need it.” Dallion had seen the spell performed from up close. When the Moonstone power was flowing through him, he had even understood it. Sadly, no longer. “After we get back to the real world, we’ll rush the fields.”

“Argus and the rest will as well.”

“No. They’re already there. And I’ll make them reveal themselves.”