Commander Dorian stood at attention, knowing he needed to mind his manners after delivering his message. Captain Falric stared at him, grinding his teeth as he mulled over the message and it’s implications. He stood, taking a moment to retrieve his golden helm.

“Dorian, are you absolutely certain this report is accurate?” Growled Falric.

“Aye captain! There can be no doubt concerning Dianthus. It’s gone. Felix, ah I mean my lead scout happened to be in the area when the Leviathan struck. Diana and Henry Theia are among the devoured. Though we were able to find their daughter.” Reported Commander Dorian.

Falric leaned over his desk, planting his hands on the sturdy wood for support. Nestor Quade had left Fallbrook this morning, he would be arriving at Dianthus before the sun set. Where he would find the remnants of his daughter’s family.

“I thought the Leviathan was only here for our dungeon. Why would it start eating farmland? There isn’t anything of value for that stupid worm!” Shouted Falric, lashing out at his complete helplessness.

He was a knight of Fallbrook. Son of the local lord and a noble in his own right, yet he had no power to protect the lives entrusted to him. No amount of knights or adventurers could hope to bring down a Leviathan.

“Have we consulted the guild on this matter?” Asked Falric.

“Yes sir! They have already evacuated half of their adventurers and most of the vault. After old Levi ate the dungeon last month they started clearing out. Ahem, I wasn’t sure how to mention this, but their diviners warned me that Levi wasn’t leaving. He is circling beneath us.” Confessed Dorian.

Falric wanted to collapse into his chair as despair filled his soul. He pounded his fist against the table, hitting it again and again in a blind fury. Who sent these Leviathans? How did they grow so large, so powerful before being discovered? Why did they come to the surface now? His desk cracked under the repeated blows, splintering with his demeanor.

“Dorian! Can you arrange a rescue party for Dianthus in an hour?” Asked Falric.

Commander Dorian smiled sheepishly. “Already done sir. Quartermaster filled three wagons for me. Ought to be enough.” He said.

Falric straightened, tucking his golden helm under his arm as he headed for the door. Dorian followed him along with the three aides that were present in Falric’s office. He activated his strategist talents, diving into the cold calculations of his class. Emotions faded as logic pushed to the forefront of his mind, driving away his greatest flaw.

“Jeremiah, send word to the knights, they are to evacuate all non combatants in their households.”

“Yes sir!” Snapped Jeremiah, his rotund belly jostling dorian as he left.

“Corporal Ron, take your company and report to the quartermaster, tell him… Ah, by Zeus’s thunder, tell him Fallbrook is about to become worm food. Hire every wagon and horse at ten times the current rate. I want the treasury emptied. Better our citizens have the coins than they rot in a Leviathan’s gut.” Ordered Captain Falric.

The mustachioed Ron saluted and left, jogging out of the room with a frown on his face. Falric watched him go, wondering if he was more concerned about his family, or how much gold he could extract from the quartermaster before others arrived. His strategist talent overrode his concerns. Spending time nit picking his subordinates would only add to the coming chaos.

Falric turned to his second in command, leaning back slightly so he could look up to Titus’ face. He was a hulk of a man, almost seven feet tall with muscles that dwarfed the rest of Fallbrook’s knights. With the skill to match his absurd might.

“Titus, rally the town guard, give them a year’s wage before they leave. I need them to return after they have evacuated their families. Send them to Crowell. Lord Crowell might be an indulgent man, but he owes me a few favors. We can lean on him to send us wagons for the evacuation if nothing else.” Ordered Falric.

“As you will, Captain.” Intoned Titus, ducking to avoid hitting his head on the door.

Dorian shook his head as the giant left.

“His size never gets any less absurd.” Mumbled Dorian with a smile.

Falric could not help but chuckle.

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“Almost makes me feel bad for the dungeons he helped clear. Just imagine him running at you in the pitch black.” Laughed Falric.

Dorian recoiled at the thought. His imagination picturing darkness filled with the clanking of Titus’ armor. Right up until the moment Titus found his quarry. Falric misread the concern on Dorian’s face and reached out a hand to him, catching him by the shoulder.

“Dorian, nowhere is safe from the Leviathans. This is only a temporary measure, one my father will not consent to.” He said.

“You still have to try. I can handle the door to door evacuation, go, make your plea to town hall.” Counseled Dorian.

Falric squeezed the commander’s shoulder, silently thanking him for being his guiding arrow. Dorian was born a common man, and had risen to his station as commander of the militia on his own merits. A journey that Falric could never understand. As if reading his mind, Dorian returned the gesture. Squeezing Falric’s shoulder with his hand.

“We may have started in different homes and taken different roads, but you earned your station just as much as I. Do not forget the Corpse of Chattan.” Said Dorian.

Invoking the name of the town where the corpse of a Leviathan had been found. At a mile long and a quarter mile wide It was half the size of the current worms. A small fry in a hopeless world, but it was enough. Adventurers and kings from all across the continent had swarmed Chattan, frantically attempting to damage the creature. They had all failed, yet experiments continued with the hope of discovering a weapon that could damage the Leviathans.

“At least there aren’t dragons burning our homes from the sky. A pincer like that would be the end of us.” Chuckled Falric, releasing Dorian and exiting the room.

He never saw Dorian wince. Nor did he catch sight of Dorian wiping his uncharacteristically damp brow.

“Never say that things can’t get worse Captain.” Whispered Dorian.

—

It had been three days since their hurried evacuation had begun. Commander Dorian’s militia had been fully marshaled, complimenting the orderly town guard. Together they had been able to clear a third of the city, assisting those who would leave their homes. Many of Fallbrook’s residents refused to leave, appealing to Lord Fallbrook to halt the evacuation. However, thanks to Captain Falric’s decisive actions little remained in the treasury and no adventurers lingered.

Captain Falric stroked his growing stubble. The past three days had left him exhausted, stretched to the limit of human endurance. He stood in the port master’s office, Titus and Dorian were with him, fully armed and armored. Titus with his plate armor and greatsword. A blade nearly five feet tall. It was the only weapon with a long enough handle for the giant to fit both hands on. Whilst Dorian wore a gambeson, simple light armor that suited the cavalier well. On his hip was a blade with a simple hilt and unadorned blade. In his hand was his spear.

Two ship captains flanked the port master, worry writ large on all their faces. Port Master Robinson was an older fellow, his leathery skin at home among the sailors. He stood no taller than five feet and stood with both hands on his hips.

“Captain Falric, if you’re even a captain still, you’ve landed my whole port in a mire half as wide as the ocean! I don’t like it one bit. Half my sailors are demanding to leave port this instant, then the other half are lashing my ships to their moorings.” Grumbled Port Master Robinson.

“Sounds like an easy problem to solve. Let the half that want to leave go.” Said Falric with a smile.

The captain to the portmaster’s left chuckled, quickly covering it with a cough. Robertson stuck out his jaw, not at all entertained by Falric’s simpleminded suggestion. The captain on his right seemed to agree, a frown mirroring Robertson.

“Oh just split them in half you say! Could I split you in half? Separate your balls from your shaft? Would either of them work then? Of course not!” Shouted Robertson, face going red as he hollered at Falric.

Spittle flew from his mouth, landing on Falric’s polished armor. Titus stepped forward, his seven foot frame hulking over the port bureaucrat. To his credit, Robertson had the sense to shut his mouth.

“Anchors aren’t that heavy captain. I says, we get some of the knights together and pay those ships a visit. If their captains don’t feel cooperative, then we lift anchors ourselves. Chain the captains to their anchors and lock them there. Give the keys to one of Dorian’s boys, have him ride a town over. See if they feel more cooperative then.” Growled Titus.

Not a man in the room doubted the brute’s sincerity. Or his ability to enforce his threat. Robertson took a step back, glancing towards the door. Falric could guess his thoughts, knowing that the man had no chance at outrunning Titus. Robertson reached the same conclusion a moment after seeing Falric’s confident grin.

“Gentlemen, there’s no need to resort to violence, I’m sure we can-” began Falric before he was interrupted by a flash of light.

All six men turned towards the window, stunned by the sudden flash. Outside it was high noon, the sun at his pinnacle. The view from the port master’s office was exquisite, covering the entire port and several leagues of nearby ocean. Across the water, several miles out, a pillar of fire raged. Burning through one of two galleons that patrolled the shipping lanes.

Robertson pushed past Titus, his early fear suppressed by his professional duties. Near the window existed a telescope, complete with a wooden tripod to stabilize it. Robertson’s wizened fingers adjusted the telescope, aiming it directly at the pillar of fire. Using the eyepiece he surveyed the patrol ships. Mouth falling open as he continued to watch.

“She’s burning.” He whispered.

Another flash of light made the commanders wince in pain. Temporarily blinding them. Falric blinked away his watery eyes. Trying to make sense of the twin columns of fire he saw. Robertson adjusted his telescope, this time relying on his other eye to see.

“Second galleon is ablaze. By Poseidon's trident! What manner of magic could destroy them both?” Whimpered Robertson.

“There, in the sky above them!” Blurted Dorian.

A stupefied look crossed the port master’s face as he tried to comprehend Dorian’s words. An instant later he saw it and adjusted the telescope to match. He drew back a moment later, gesturing for one of the captains to confirm what he was seeing.

“It’s a ship…” He said.

“A flying ship can hardly be called a ship you halfwit!” Shouted Robertson.

Titus caught both men by the neck, lifting them like a schoolgirl might play with her dolls. Walking them away from the telescope so his captain could see the enemy. A black ship floated above the wreckage of two galleons. This one was smaller, a nimble frigate that should have relied on her sails. Though what power propelled her was beyond his understanding. Her wood was black as night, and she was getting bigger, coming towards him at a speed he could not comprehend.

“Captain! I count eleven more of them! All dropping from that- uh… big one!” Spouted Dorian, stuttering as his words failed him.

Titus dropped Robertson next to the telescope. Allowing the short man an opportunity for mercy. The elderly bureaucrat was too horrified at the thought of further physical violence to do anything other than focus the telescope. A seasoned master of ships reduced to little more than an automatic dial. In seconds the task was accomplished and the man stepped aside. Pinching the bridge of his nose and gently shaking his head.

Falric took a knee in front of the telescope, steadying himself. Through the telescope he saw a castle that was dozens of times longer than the twelve dots he knew where frigates.

“Sound the alarm. We are under siege by… A flying castle, and twelve flying frigates.” Ordered Falric, his command faltering as he stated the impossible.