The war room was empty when Felix arrived. Bathed in the morning light shining down from the clerestory windows, the room felt warm and inviting. Felix slid his hand along the tarnished wooden railing as he followed the quarter-circle walkway to the stairs, then he descended into the depression in the center of the room. The ebony wooden table itself contained a depression filled with maps. At one point the maps had been covered with blue beads, but now the last of the blue beads were gathered in the city of Needlewood.
Felix grabbed one of the long metal cues resting on the map table, which he used to slide the blue beads away. The door to the war room opened, and two Heritage Militia soldiers shuffled through, holding Albrecht by the arms. Father was looking well enough, his white uniform was immaculate, but now his red eyes were hidden by a pair of shaded spectacles. He grabbed the railing, and held on as if he was struggling to balance.
"That is enough, wait for me outside," Albrecht barked. The two militiamen saluted and then marched out of the war room. Albrecht clung to the rail as he descended the stairs, and then he grasped the lip of the table as he shuffled to one side.
"Is something wrong, father?" Felix asked.
"Ashe has given me the gift of Her perfect darkness," Albrecht said.
Felix scratched his head at this response. He said nothing.
"I've gone blind, you damn whelp. It's your fault."
"I saved a lot of soldiers," Felix said.
"You keep dangerous company," Albrecht said. "The Purple Dragon will eat your soul when she is done with you. Not even Ashe can save you now."
Felix shrugged. "The wind is real, father. Even if I don't make any mistakes, the wind may still find me unworthy, and I will fall to the ground and die. The Purple Dragon is just another type of wind to me."
"The wind has no malice," Albrecht said.
"You only say that because you've never tried to fly an airplane," Felix replied.
The door to the map room opened once again and the Lord Paladin strode through, followed by Hans, the General Officer of the Third Army. The two men took up positions around the table. Felix saw the Lord Paladin glance at Needlewood. His gaze lingered there for a moment, then he turned to Albrecht.
"You look like you need a drink, old friend," the Lord Paladin said as he pulled a small wineskin from within his coat. He offered it to Albrecht. Felix had never seen his father drink before, but remarkably, Albrecht deftly grabbed the wineskin and took a swig.
The door opened the final time and five more General Officers poured through.
"Felix, give us your report." the Lord Paladin said.
Felix used one of the cues to drag four red beads to the city of Needlewood, which sat just north of the border near the middle of the continent. He waited a few seconds for the last of the Generals to arrange themselves around the table.
"Four Paladins, including myself, flew south to Needlewood by daylight," Felix began. "There was no opposition. There were no enemy drakes. There were a few enemy airships tied to the high masts, which appeared to have been abandoned, and which we destroyed without incident. The city was empty. The armies of the Blue Dragon have fled south across the border."
"Did you follow them?" the Lord Paladin asked.
Felix pulled on the red beads, causing them to cross the border into Riln. "We found them here. There are many bunkers and tunnels in this region, but the bulk of the enemy was camped above ground, near a borderland city. There were airships in the sky, but once again there were no drakes."
"So where did the enemy Paladins go? Is it possible that they are still hiding in the north?"
"It would not matter either way," Felix said. "The Blue Dragon is dead. Their powers are gone, they will not be able to shapeshift."
This invited muttering and whispering around the table. The Lord Paladin grabbed the wineskin from Albrecht and took a swig himself. "You seem confident of this fact, Felix. What evidence do you have?"
"There is still another Dragon on this continent," Felix replied. "You all saw her, she was there when I tested the prototype airplane. This is my evidence: your own memories of that woman, the sight of the purple spires that have sprouted across the north, and the destruction of the Capitol building."
The Lord Paladin picked up one of the metal cues and began to slide red beads around near the borderlands.
"What does she want?" Albrecht asked.
"I have absolutely no idea," Felix said.
"Perhaps we will contemplate the national security risk presented by the Purple Dragon when next we meet with the leaders of the intelligence community," the Lord Paladin said. "This is a strategy meeting. The First and the Third will travel to the southeast. The Second and Fourth will travel to the southwest. The Third and the Sixth will travel to Needlewood."
"And what about my army, the Heritage Militia?"
The Lord Paladin nodded his shining, bald head. His blood-red eyes looked up to Felix. "Do you think you could train the militiamen to fly?"
"The wind will decide who flies," Felix answered.
"Old friend, I think it is time for you to retire," the Lord Paladin said.
"Absolutely not," Albrecht barked.
"I hereby discharge you Albrecht, honorably, for medical reasons. Your blindness makes you ineligible for your rank. In any case, we need new Paladins. Hundreds, perhaps thousands of pilots for our airplanes. I have decided. The Heritage Militia is going to be dissolved, and the militiamen will be placed under your son Felix."
If you stumble upon this tale on Amazon, it's taken without the author's consent. Report it.
"You can't do this!"
"I am the Supreme Commander of the military forces of Quaria," the Lord Paladin said. "Have you forgotten this fact, Oathbreaker?"
Albrecht reeled back.
"The Paladins have not lost their flames, nor have we lost our wings. Felix, I have new orders."
"Yes Commander."
"Felix, I hereby commission you as the General Officer of the Quarian Air Force, effective immediately. You are to take command of the Heritage Militia. Train those in good health and with good vision to be pilots, train the others to be support staff and military engineers. You may reorganize the command structure as you see fit."
"It will be done, Commander."
The Lord Paladin handed the wineskin back to Albrecht. "It is time to go home, old friend."
Albrecht took a long drink. Then, without saying anything, he began to feel his way back up the stairs toward the door.
The Lord Paladin slid a sealed envelope across the maps toward Felix. "Your orders, General Felix. Signed and sealed. Is there anything else that you need from me?"
"Half of the geomancers across all six armies," Felix said.
"It will be arranged," the Lord Paladin replied. This brought gasps from the other General Officers. "You are dismissed."
----------------------------------------
Two airplanes flew high above the runway, a Paladin and a student. They would keep looping around and around until the student was able to find the correct speed and angle of descent in order to safely land. This particular student was an officer in the First Army, and he was one of only three students to join since the victory against the Blue Dragon's armies. The first and last of the three students who would not be sourced from the former Heritage Militia.
Felix sighed. Neasa glanced at him while tapping her pencil on her wooden writing board. The geomancer Cliona remained perfectly still, her face shrouded under layers of gray robes.
"I think we should start with a very simple set of rules," Felix said. "Rules that are focused on preventing conflicts of interest and unethical redistribution of risk."
Neasa nodded and began to scratch away with her pencil.
He continued: "The official slogan for the Quarian Air Force will be 'The Wind is Real.' For us, flying will be our highest ideal, and therefore, nobody who risks life and limb flying will ever be subjected to the insult of a command from a person who has never flown before."
"What about the Lord Paladin?" Neasa asked.
"He taught us all how to fly," Felix replied.
"Fair point. Please continue."
"Another way to state this rule is to say that all officers must be able to fly. In fact, I would say that a soldier who is able to fly, and who has an airplane, is by definition an officer. We should provide officer training, and an appropriate rank, to anyone who demonstrates proficiency in flight."
"What about the geomancers?" Cliona asked in her too-soft voice. "We don't want the officers whipping us or threatening to kill us."
"The geomancers will have the rank of Warrant Officer, exactly as they do in the armies and in the navies. In general, anyone who can use magic is a Warrant Officer, including wind mages and combat medics. They will be between enlisted and commissioned personnel. They will be outside of normal military discipline."
"Excellent," Cliona said. Then she glided away, swishing her robes as she left.
"We will simply copy the Warrant Officer ranks from the other armies. As for enlisted ranks, the lowest will be Airman Recruit, followed by Airman, Airman First Class, and Senior Airman. The non-commissioned officer ranks start with Air Sergeant, followed by Air Sergeant First Class, Senior Air Sergeant, Master Air Sergeant, and finally Chief Master Air Sergeant. There will be only one person with that last rank and he will report to me. Commissioned officer ranks start with Lieutenant Second Class, followed by Lieutenant First Class, Captain, Major, Lieutenant Colonel, Colonel, Lieutenant General, and finally myself, General Officer of the Quarian Air Force."
Neasa was furiously attacking the writing board with her pencil. A second team of two airplanes continued their traffic pattern, drowning out the sound of her clattering pencil with the whirring of the propellers. They both left crimson trails in the sky as they flew over the runway.
"Each pilot will have a team of enlisted personnel that report directly to them. The Airmen and non-commissioned officers will be responsible for maintaining specific airplanes for specific commissioned officers. Each airplane will have exactly one officer and that officer has absolute authority over the maintenance and configuration of his airplane."
"We will need an official seal, a uniform, and a standard," Neasa said.
"We should adopt light crimson as our official color," Felix said. "The color of the flames that come from the engine exhaust as we fly. The details about the uniform I will delegate to your own design, Neasa. Keep in mind that the spinning propeller may blow away any hats or armbands."
"I will keep that in mind."
"As for our official seal, I think it should include a drake, an airplane, and the three Realms we use, fire, lightning, and wind. I delegate the design to you as well. Be sure to include our motto on the seal. We will need a few possible candidate designs, and the surviving Paladins will vote on the final design."
"Anything else?" Neasa asked.
"I think there was one more thing," Felix began. The thought evaded him as Neasa impatiently tapped her pencil. Something about the horses? He thought. Then he remembered. "Oh right. Horses will be used to cart the airplanes around. Therefore, the riding and handling of horses will be reserved for enlisted personnel only. Officers are banned from riding horses."
"The militiamen are not going to like that," Neasa warned.
"That was my intention."
----------------------------------------
The whole of the Heritage Militia stood at attention in their camp, organized into thirty-three squares, each with about one hundred militiamen. They had all cut the blood-red armbands from the sleeves of their immaculate white uniforms. Lieutenant General Neasa and Chief Warrant Officer Cliona marched alongside Felix, followed by a standard bearer.
The Quarian Air Force battle standard was pale crimson in color. The official seal resided in the center, separated from the crimson field by a white circle. The seal consisted of a blood red ring with seven stars at the top, representing the fact that the Heritage Militia had been the seventh army, if not officially. The motto, "The Wind is Real," was written on the bottom of the ring. Within the seal there was a red drake, a yellow lightning bolt, an orange flame, a gust of teal wind, and a silver airplane.
The standard bearer was moving fast enough so that the flag was fully visible. All of the former militiamen could see their new flag, and Felix saw approval, even awe, etched upon those speechless faces.
"Felix stopped at the end of the camp, where a wind mage waited for him. With an amplified voice, he began to address the new Quarian Air Force: "Most of you fought at the battle just a few nights past, when the armies of the Blue Dragon were crushed. You fought valiantly and well, and many of your brothers fell that night. I thank you for your service, and for the risk to your life that you endured. I invite you to join me in the next chapter of your service to our nation."
He tried his best to replicate the calm, confident, commanding tone that the Lord Paladin was famous for. It seemed to be working well enough. There was an eager silence from the crowd. No hecklers, whispers, or coughs.
"There are going to be a few changes. There will be no more 'men of integrity,' or 'men or respect.' There will be no more trading favors, no more racketeering, no more shakedowns, and no more collecting tolls on the roads for your own profits. All personnel in the Quarian Air Force will be expected to inspire others with their discipline. If you need to collect resources from the local population, you will write a proper I.O.U. in compensation."
How many of these thugs can actually write? Felix wondered.
"That said, I do not care what you have done in the past. I do not care what you believe. I only care about one thing. The wind is real, and ultimately the wind will be your judge. The wind will forgive all past crimes, but the wind will be extremely unforgiving of all your future mistakes. If you are unworthy, the wind will not only be your judge, but your executioner as well."
A gust of wind caught the battle standard and stretched it out fully. It was a good way to punctuate the speech.
"The wind is real!" Felix bellowed.
"The wind is real!" the former militiamen cried in response. Then they began to cheer.