The Fire Rises: Attack on Tylmerande

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Firstly, this thread will only address the Brotherhood’s attempted occupation of the barony of Tylmerande, and (for now) will be considered non-canon, to get around some issues revolving around closed member participation.

Once the FQ begins in earnest, the Brotherhood’s main coup will begin in Radasanth and will give people the opportunity to jump in and out to either help defend Radasanth or assist the Brotherhood. It is at this point, when the FQ thread is dealt with, that I will apply to have both the occupation of Tylmerande and the events of Panorama of the Endtimes listed as canon. I’m hoping Dirks or Lye will allow this.

Please see this thread for rules ect.

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It was the night before the biggest day of his leadership.

Shinsou Vaan Osiris only realised how dark it was when he had finished penning his plans for the Brotherhood’s future, the scrawls barely visible in the dim candlelight. After a minute or two of posturing, he pushed the pen across the oak table-top, slid his back up the rest of his chair and sighed with relief at having gotten to the end of that monstrosity. He had already done a satisfactory head count of the men who had returned to Whitevale after the acrimonious Gisela split between Shinsou Vaan Osiris and Storm Veritas, and the numbers of those on strength left the Telgradian with a smile. Out of the ten thousand men he had started with, only a tenth hadn’t returned to the Brotherhood. A further two hundred and fifty were off the active duty roster due to injury or leave, which left Shinsou and Storm with a solid eight thousand, seven hundred and fifty strong force.

What he intended to do with that eight thousand, seven hundred and fifty strong army was unprecedented, absurdly ambitious and extremely dangerous. But, in his heart of hearts, Shinsou Vaan Osiris knew that it was the first rung on the ladder to the greatness that Storm Veritas had insisted they were due to obtain. Flicking strands of matted hair out of his eyes, he stood up to ease the pain in his back from being sat in one position too long. As he did so, he caught a glimpse of his reflection in the Whitevale office window. A pair of soft, golden eyes eyes stared him back, ones with black circles of weariness capping his cheeks. His features were still boyish and handsome, but he could have sworn his forehead had just a few more creases than usual.

With a groan, he redirected his gaze beyond the pane to take in the surroundings of the Brotherhood’s base in Whitevale. The square outside was soaked with pools from the constant drizzle that had plagued the hills during the afternoon. The Brotherhood guards stood still, looking rather miserable as the creeping cold seeped into their joints. One stretched out of the position that he had remained motionless in for all of the past two hours. The horizon beyond the guards and high walls remained obscured by the rolling, dark clouds that had haunted the skies all day, but here and there patches of bleak light reminded the dusk that there was sunshine to come for dawn. On the fringe of those clouds, the parts of the hills that were visible were rocky and treacherous, monotonous in their continuity around the Whitevale area and served only to add to the claustrophobic feel of Whitevale’s county. Shinsou remembered marching through the coarse grasses and bracken with his soldiers not long ago, a whole army choking the carpet of dull greens and browns for miles around, and he could not decide whether it was natural or arcane to feel as good as he did at the helm of that force. Either way, though, it felt even better being part of a united Brotherhood once again.

“Evening Shin. Still up doing your homework for school? Bit past your bedtime, isn’t it?”

The sudden chime of a familiar voice assaulted Shinsou’s senses like the clamour of a thousand hammers smashing glass, making him almost leap out of his skin. As he snapped his body round, Shinsou’s eyes met the cold gaze of a blue-eyed man. The unmistakable slicked back salt-and-pepper hair and Fallien finery, the ironic shit-eating grin and faint scent of perfume, presumably rubbed off from one of his conquests, confirmed the presence of Storm Veritas.

“Well, someone has to do the spade work around here,” Shinsou retorted, pretending not to have been bothered by the interruption. Storm pulled up the only other chair in the room, seating himself as Shinsou’s table, before putting his feet up on the oak, “Speaking of which, I’ve just finished running the numbers for our jaunt to Tylmerande. We’re at about eighty seven percent strength, which is well above what we hoped.”

“Yeah, but I’m still left wondering if it’s it going to be enough?” Storm lit up his trademark pipe as Shinsou walked by and gently slid the man’s boots off of the furniture, “I mean, we’re talking about kicking a hornet’s nest here. The Rangers, Corone’s Navy and any other bleeding heart have-a-go heroes will all want to hose us off their doorstep like a turd the minute we hit the port. It’s risky.”

“Yeah, it fucking well is,” the Telgradian took off his coat, throwing it over a nearby varnished wooden stand, “But, for what we need, it’s necessary. Remember, that port is a key trade gateway and a shipyard to service the Coronian Navy, and we aren’t going to hold it with a handful of pissheads from the Rusty Anchor, sadly. Else, we’d be throwing fodder at them. This needs a professional, tidy and determined approach. We get down there, blockade the place and hold it until our window of opportunity arrives.”

Shinsou reached into his coat, into a sheathe woven into the inner lining, and produced his sword, Stygian. The aquamarine blade almost sung with the notes of the Raiaeran bards as he carefully placed it, finger and thumb between tip and hilt, on the table in front of the electromancer. Storm raised an eyebrow as if to question what new madness had crawled into the Telgradian’s mind now. The room fell quiet as his eyes flicked from left to right, absorbing the inferred plan, which the Telgradian then confirmed.

"We don’t need to roll up to Radasanth with an army. Just a small unit – ten, maybe eleven men, and Stygian. Either you or me leading, depending on how Tylmerande goes. We hit the assembly, and the rest is history.”

Storm readjusted his position on the chair as his partner emerged from behind the desk. He wondered, for a moment, what Shinsou was really feeling, knowing that this ambition would likely lead him into direct conflict with many of his friends and allies. Would he stand, knowing that most of them would abhor such an abrupt change of course? The electromancer knew his past well. He knew that five years ago, Shinsou had been subjugated and had been forced to turn on his own people. He had murdered millions, he had turned against the Telgradian capital of Garah and he had tried to kill the Council of Five but Osiris had always professed everything he had done had been by the hands of someone else. Proving it had been impossible. There was no way to explain to all those that watched his rampages that Shinsou Vaan Osiris was not the man behind it all.

Now, looking at his friend, Storm Veritas wondered whether he was now seeing the Telgradian’s true colours; a man whose life had been spent in the upper echelons of power, who needed to return to that level. It suited him to be partnered to a man who shared his drive, his will and ambition, but up until now perhaps he had underestimated just how little Shinsou had really changed, and how much the Telgradian had lived in denial.

Eventually, Shinsou ruffled his hair with a calloused hand, and turned to face his friend.

“I’m going to ask Hayate Amatsukami to come with me to Tylmerande to head up the Immortals. He’ll be instrumental to the operation down there. You ok with that?”

Storm shrugged, his eyebrows raised. “Stands to reason. Just make sure he doesn’t shit the bed first time out.”

Shinsou collected his coat from the stand he had just thrown it over, and pulled his arms through the thick sleeves. After a moment of studying his friend’s face, searching for any signs of doubt or reluctance, the young man nodded.

“This is our chance, Storm; this is what we’ve been building up to all this time. Let’s not strike out on our first innings. Let’s get down there, raise hell and really put it up the assembly.”

***

It was a damp day when a cutting wind whipped around the hilltops a couple of miles south of Whitevale. Stood on horseback, Shinsou, Storm and Hayate Amatsukami stared at the road which led southwards to Tylmerande.

Everything was dark as the precipitation drove into the hillsides. Behind him stood those loyal companies of Brotherhood infantry. They were well drilled, well disciplined and loyal to a fault, but more than that they were the men who had re-united for the common good of the Brotherhood. They would would give everything they had to capture and hold Tylmerande, and those who would finally bear witness to a new era spearheaded by Shinsou Vaan Osiris and Storm Veritas.

The beginning of their journey? the Telgradian knew, was five minutes away. In a few moments, they would haul themselves up the path and on the road to Tylmerande. That's when everything would be at its most tense. Should word have gotten to anyone of their plan, Shinsou knew that there was a risk that they would meet resistance. This is why he had chosen this route for the march south, well out of the way of prying eyes.

If any party dared to try and intervene, they would have to come to Shinsou and his soldiers through poor conditions and rugged terrain.

"Sir?"

A captain of the 95th Foot light company, Shinsou's own detail, spoke.

"Yes captain?"

"Your road is clear.”

“Excellent. We shall move at once,” Shinsou waved a gloved hand forward, grabbing Slepnir’s reins with one hand whilst turning to Hayate, “So, my friend, how does it feel to be a part of this journey? Soon, we will be in Tylmerande, and you can show us what you are truly made of.”

As they travelled, Shinsou was steadfast in his belief. The Brotherhood would be a better solution for the people than the inept assembly, who caused chaos with their indecision and allowed too many to lose to their whims. The road to government was dark and clouded, and would be capped on the end with blood and bedlam, but this was the way it needed to be to effect real, tangible change.

They say even the most ordinary of gentlemen need a bare minimum of two suits to survive in decent, polite society. There needed to be one suit for darker affairs, such as funerals and courtrooms; one of black or perhaps dark grey, reflecting the somber colors of such occasion and lending the moment gravity. The second suit was lighter, a bit more bold, and fitted for celebrations – weddings, gala events, and inaugurations.

As a genuine, first class diplomat, such pedestrian decisions were somewhat foreign. He’d owned two dozen or more bespoke suits since he was eighteen, and had filled closets with shined shoes and silken ties. All the same, he was a man of two suits in and of his own existence: one for his political life, and one as a commander of war.

He’d had to put on his battle gear far too often of late. Following his reunion with Shinsou Vaan Osiris, the next critical piece of political jigsaw was folding into place. Smiling at himself as he fixed his leather overcoat above his thin mesh armor, Storm thought of his long game and how opportune the moment.

Finally, a chance to free Radasanth, and make things work the way they were meant to operate. No more idiot Congressmen ignoring the country to squabble over an extra streetlight for their goddamned corner. No more flighty, vacillating leaders kowtowing to reactionary morons. Instead, we can bring stability. Global respect. Enhanced trade, and no more Old-World zealot-driven, morality codes.

Led Whitevale through its downfall and recovery. Raised our armies through Gisela. Partnered with Shin and now recruiting young talent. Take the port, win the people’s love, and then take the crown jewel to the roars of applause.

The fantasy of the moment was broken by a sharp knock at the door, which broke him from the moment of self admiration. Adjusting his cuff to push the dragonscale gauntlets under his leather, Storm sharply called back to the door with a curt “Yes!?”.

The large wooden door of the Whitevale bedroom opened no more than six inches, allowing the short, olive skinned servant to peek her white-haired head in. Annoyed, her employer summoned her in, frustrated with her meekness in spite of his patience.

“For the Gods, Seline, what is it? I don’t shoot messengers, my dear.”

“It… it’s nothing sir. Attila is ready for you, groomed in dress metals as you had instructed.” She immediately deserted the room, backpedaling quickly with her eyes focused on her toes.

“Thank you.” Now go and swear at what an asshole I am to your coworkers.

His eyes returned to the mirror, finalizing the details of his gear. A man that could look equal parts warrior and diplomat drew attention among the rank and file, and allowed Storm to keep from making examples of soldiers that underestimated the lithe, older charmer.

~~~~~~~~~~~

“Well, shit, Shin. Not so much as an introduction to the kid?”

Smiling again, Storm was tall in the saddle upon the precisely massive horse Attila, a large black steed covered in thick metal strips. The steel was layered to reduce weight while rendering the great beast nearly immune to passive arrow fire. The presence of metal upon the horse would not be lost on Shinsou, however most others there saw only a shiny horse that looked difficult.

Without a moment’s hesitation, the wizard pivoted his attention to the slender young man aside Shinsou, who he knew to be a promising special known as Hayate Amussasomething-or-other.

“Storm Veritas. Hope Shin’s brought you up to speed, and hope you’re ready for the big time. Tylermande is quite likely going to be a goddamned shit-show.”

The sun had just crested over the coniferous horizon waking up the local song birds ushering in the new day. Hayate Amatsukami, last of his line and leader of the Immortals, had been backing his rucksack and other miscellanies supplies for a while now in preparation for the day to come. He had received Shinsou’s raven the night prior interrupting his peaceful stroll thought the new Amatsukami estate. He was both stricken by a wave of excitement and grief knowing that he had been called to action. A lot had happened since he was first inducted into Lord Osiris’ Brotherhood and he wasn’t the same man he was before, but regardless he swore an oath.

As he listened to the gentle birds singing their songs and watched the morning dew drip softly off the cherry blossoms the young man wondered If this would be anything like last time. He paused for a moment before continuing to haul his preparations to the horse stall out back. Even though there had been many offers Hayate hadn’t found the time to hire help and did everything around the estate by himself. It wasn’t easy work but it kept him calm and out of trouble most of the time, better than letting his sorrows get the best of him.

Are you really going to do this? the disembodied voice of Yamato, his most trusted partner, echoed though his mind as Hayate drooped his stuff at feet of his Hallowmane. Yamato meant well but never knew what to say when.

I don’t really have a choice. Hayate answered as lifted his bag with his good arm and tried to toss it over his horses back.

You always have a choice, cut your losses and let’s get out of here. his spirit partner quickly lashed back. We may not be able to go back home, but we could stay out of this man’s war.

And do what? Have another reason to look over my shoulder at night? I need his help and if this is how he wishes to use me then so be it. Hayate wasn’t sure about any of this but he knew that the best way to find out what happened to his clan was to get and keep Shinsou and his Brotherhood on his good side. I’m not afraid anymore, I know it sounds crazy but not having the lives of my family dangling in the balance, or at least not in front of my face, I can… I can finally be free.

Yamato didn’t respond. How could he?

As the young man finished securing his belongings he leapt onto his mighty steed and began to ride. First through the Yandel forest, then Underwood, and finally he would meet the main force outside the capital. It wasn’t too rough of a ride, might have been nicer if he left with the main army but that was neither here nor there. Hayate, a newly established general, was greeted with open arms and escorted directly to the front lines. Upon arrival he met with Shinsou as his other subordinates gave him the green light to press forward.

Besides Shinsou rode another man, someone Hayate hadn't ever met. He spoke to the young swordsman with a calm consideration.

“Shit show or not I’m here,” Hayate answered Storm, his newest boss it would seem. “let me handle the heavy lifting.” He said waiving his left nub in the air making his long sleeve flap in thewind. He wasn’t sure how much Shinsou had told this Storm about his powers but he though it fitting to poke fun at himself and lighten the mood.

Then his attention shifted back to Shinsou, the man who started him down this road, and began searching in the folds of his coat. As his fingers located what they were searching for Hayate pulled out his mask. The same mask he wore the first time he ever left Akashima, the same one he wore when he met Lord Osiris. He held it tightly for a second before tossing it to his mentor.

“Don’t think I need this anymore.” the young Amatsukami said as a huge burden was lifted from his shoulders. “Who am I trying to protect now?”

It was dark, and the wind howled around the crags of the Lily like a beast caged. Hidden somewhere deep within the Concordia Forest it was a secret forbidden by many to even seek. Jagged and bare, the rockface with its natural ledge upon which the fortress was precariously perched was battered by harsh, cold rains and horrendous hail, sounding like a thousand lost voices crying for sympathy.

It was dark, and four warriors stood at the apex of the cliff itself, wrapped in leathers and furs, the soft side turned against their skin. Together they huddled, their fire long past able to live in the precipitation, staring out and down towards the fortress and it's long, angled path that was cut into the rock. They were watchers, dedicated women of undying resolution, who would remain here until fire fell from the skies, signalling the end of all things. Yet tonight of all nights was their task essential; to watch the twisting road, to signal should an attack come straight to their doorstep.

It was dark, and within the narrow keep of the fortress, the Matriarch of the Gilded Lily glared madly at the paper before her. Ragged and torn it had already been thumbed to a limp rag, despite the fact it had been preserved in its journey there within a leather scroll case. Not even the savage storm could compare to the faun's rage, however, as she seethed with eyes burning, fingernails scoring deeply into the woodwork, teeth cracking as they were shoved unnaturally hard together.

From the shadows of the small, private chamber - all bare stone and simple wooden furniture - stepped two creatures. One was a human man, his face cut by a myriad of scars on his cheeks, and the other was a lithe, russet red creature, akin to a fox but standing upon his hind legs and six feet tall. Silently, they looked to one another as the faun curled a hand into a fist and raised it with tension springing tight to every muscle, and wincing, they watched as the hand came down and slammed into the table, immediately breaking it in twain. Paper flew high, candlesticks clanged to the floor, their light quickly snuffed out. Ink spilt, pens broke, sighs came.

"Fucking HELL!" she roared. "How could he - how - how?!"

"Princess..." the man with the scars - Rameses Vaeron - spoke, in a soft voice. He was both the father of her daughter, her general and her best friend, outside of the fox.

Quickly she held up a hand, shoving it, palm side in his direction, as the table lay before them, now useless with splinters still spiralling to the floor.

"I don't want it. He has [I]no[I] excuse."

"But how do we know ... It is him?" Vaeron dared to speak further. "Was there not a split in the Brotherhood forces. That other lover ... Storm?"

"'Lover'? Bah, one night he got, that was all," Philomel kicked hard at a table leg, sending it wildly crashing against the wall. The fox being leapt lightly into a close by chair, huge brush tail swinging to and fro.

"Yet still ... The missive says 'forces are gathering' at Tylmarande's border, not who commands them. It might not be Os-"

"Don't say his name," she snapped. "In fact ... I forbid anyone to say his name. He's nothing more than dirt to me."

Vaeron glanced at the fox, who now leant against the back of the chair, his rump at the apex. Golden eyes blinked back at him. Still, Vaeron was not used to this new form of Veridian, Philomel's soul partner, and thus it was unnerving to see a second bipedal animal in the room. Veridian made no verbal comment, and the human took a few seconds to glance back to Philomel, knowing that when all was well, she would be back within Shinsou van Osiris' bed.

"It will be a misunderstanding, surely," he stressed. 'This," he gestured at the paper, "is ... just a stretch of the army's legs, a practise, an argument they have with the Baron there, or, as I said, the other one, Storm, trying his luck. I could go to Whitevale and ascertain-"

"No," Philomel shook her head, and a great crack of thunder briefly illuminated her face. Bold, eyes silver with fury that hell could not even be compared to, horns that were ready to gore. "No, go straight to the city in the barony, it's called Tylmarande itself, I think. Go the harbour, take the ship. Take ..." she looked down at the table, now in two large pieces and many more jagged splinters, "a hundred of the Lilies from here. It won't be enough, we have never had an army comparable to his but we will do."

"We will?" Vaeron looked confused. Though he did have questions about her recited plan, this was the most pressing.

Philomel nodded once, "We will. I will go to Radasanth itself. If he even dares to try to take my country one edge of land ... He'll have an army of whores to contend with."

Vaeron blinked. "Wait ... all the Lily whores?"

"Nobody makes an army and has it threaten my homeland. Now, you go, the rest of the army will follow close behind on foot, and I will arrive later. With our full force." Philomel spat. "It's their home as much as mine. I did not train them all to fight for nothing."

"You trained them to defend themselves," Vaeron answered, daringly.

"And they are defending themselves in this," she hissed, "Their livelihoods, the peace I hold with the rangers and the Assembly in Radasanth ... I have not worked this hard so an ex lover of mine can take it all away!"

Vaeron blinked at the pre-determiner 'ex' but said nothing on it. "As I said, Princess, it might just be Storm."

"Either way, he doesn't threaten my country," she pursed her lips, and then threw her gaze to Veridian. She spoke in a calmer voice. "What are you doing, beloved?"

Golden eyes turned from the papers on the floor. Slowly he blinked, huge pupils lights of glory. "I go with the mage," he said carefully, in a voice that rumbled like the thunder outside. "then you see the truth."

"Truth?" she frowned, "what truth?"

"Is yet to be seen," he shrugged as he leant forwards and skipped from the chair towards her. "Armour and sword please."

The trio rode towards Tylermande, moving fairly quickly with only minor chatter breaking up the tension. The youngster, a funny clipped-wing kid named Hayate, had gotten Storm’s attention immediately. Some self-deprecation, a little too much confidence; the kid had brass ones to match the shiny shirt buttons that kept his nub from getting sunburned.

Who are YOU going to protect? I’ve had a hundred notches on my belt since before you got off the tit.

Smoking now, he pulled the warm flavor off his cherrywood pipe as he considered the words of the brazen boy. Perhaps the kid was onto something; Storm had let plenty of younger, dumber kids stand before him fighting the masses in Gisela. Still, he sort of liked this one; there was no sense allowing the lad to sacrifice himself before he could finish sprouting hairs on his chest and finding out what type of monsters really laid within him.

“Easy, kid, no need to play bodyguard here.” Storm removed the pipe to spit some juice; occasionally the leaves in his satchel picked up some moisture and hurt the smooth taste if he didn’t suck them out. “I presume that Shin wouldn’t have brought you along if you weren’t special.”

A wry smile was all that Osiris offered; there was no need to elaborate. Between the two of them the Brotherhood was already a force of nature. Adding new members meant choosing wisely; there was no desire to dilute the power of the group by creating easy marks for kidnap, hostage, or murder.

“One arm and he still carries more weight, I’d bet.” Shinsou couldn’t resist the ball-breaking of his old friend, as everyone knew Storm to be well above the peasant labors.

“Easy! Nowhere for you to vanish to this time when push comes to shove. Besides, I can’t carry the lumber when I’ve got to strap you to my goddamned back.” Storm’s retort was good natured but retained some point to it; Shinsou was prone to vacate duty at times.

The sun rising wasn’t as warm as Corone would usually warrant. It was a mercy, given the heavy gear Veritas had strapped about Attila. The horse moved easily and smoothly, the gleaming armor about him no burden about his incredible breadth and power.

“Plan is simple, kid. Just look bad-ass enough, and Tylermande will fold. These are traders, shippers, and businessmen. They’ll have a few guards, but we can pay them better. Cut a profile that makes no doubt that if they push back, we tear the city apart. Once we own the port, Radasanth has no internal support from the citizens; we will roll the city and own the entire goddamned continent from there.”

Storm’s fingers crackled with electric delight at the notion, his fingertips pulsing white and blue through his thin leather gauntlets. He inhaled the odor of ozone deeply, considering what type of elaborate terror he could show to the port to make this entire exchange very simple.

In parallel, Shinsou had grown silent again, his body tall in the saddle and cheekbones set high beneath narrow, deep set eyes. His eyes looked infinitely focused upon the horizon, as Tylermande began to roll into view.

The port city emerged on the edge of the world before them, rising slowly as the horses marched forward. A thin, beautiful hardwood fence of eight feed framed the port, large cement stanchions serving as strong foundations at each turn of wood. A few guards stood atop the front gate, their shadows against the rising sun the only detail available. The wide, smooth, white road was paved ahead with crushed seashells, an idyllic and luxurious detail of a town which attracted traders and vacationers. It was a port and resort, and appeared entirely unprepared for battle.

It wasn’t long before the three of them approached the ever expanding port town and as they got closer it soon became clear there wasn’t going to be much opposition. All it took was a handful of coin each and the brave men tasked with protecting the port city were easily persuaded to look the other way. Shinsou and Storm were both very smart men and their decisions to avoid any unneeded conflict would make it a lot easier to reach the magistrate and make their demands. But that didn't stop Hayate from seeing that in the event fighting did break out they would have a clear advantage.

Are you sure about all this? This may be the last chance you get to back out? Yamato implored Hayate to consider his options as the three of them rode on horseback through the streets of Tylermande. They drew a lot of attention and everyone’s eyes were fixed on them as they made their way to the town hall. They rode alone as a small concise until but were not without back up. Hidden among the commerce and scattered across town were about thirty or so Brotherhood soldiers. Their orders were to stay hidden and wait for the signal then do that they do best.

Stop it, Hayate answered his sword spirit as his mighty steed marched towards the magistrate’s office. If you’re not going to let me concentrate then shut up. You know why I’m here and what this is all for, claiming Tylermande is the first step and the next will be Akashima. If things do not go well here then I can kiss the Brotherhood support goodbye and were will be right back to where we started.

Waves formed in the pit of his stomach as the three of them reached the magistrates office. Hayate was nervous but would stand behind his two allies and do whatever they required of him. The trio dismounted, quickly tied their great steeds to the posts outside and began to walk up the large white marble staircase of the hall. They were clad in their full battle attire and all were intimidation in their own right, but as a unit they were clean and ready for action.

“Hayate,” Shinsou Vann Osiris got his disciple’s attention as they reach the top of the stairs and stood at the precipice of conquest. “Don’t let that sword get the better of you. Let us do the talking and everything will be over shortly.”

“Understood.”

Hayate Amatsukami, the last of his line, did know what that meant. But was he really ready to do it? In that moment he wasn’t sure, but if it meant he was one step closer to his final goal then he would do whatever it took to make sure things went smoothly for them inside. Regardless he didn’t expect to have to do much as they were clearly the only ones ready for a fight here. But only time would be able to tell.

Mightily, his heart thudded in his chest like a war drum intent on resounding glory. Moving his chest up and down in a steady rhythm he kept his head high, his shoulders rolled back and his huge golden eyes glinting as their small but glorious army rode towards the city. Sprawled out like a gnarled growth Tylmerande was both a blemish on the hillside, and a beauty to be admired. It was established over the years, fitted with a suitable defensive wall, supported on the port side by lighthouses, war ships and - what the bloody blazes ...

Sharply, he hissed through his gnashed teeth, eyes spiralling with fiery fury. His mount - a heavy female tera'k - pulled sharply up at the sound of his anger and snorted heavily. The great musk-oxen-like creature of muscle, fur and horn planted her hooves into the dirt, halting with no warning. It was only because Veridian was used to such sudden hesitations from his beloved, partner-of-his-heart-and-soul, Philomel's mount that the fox-humanoid managed to hold on. Even though he was unused to this form entirely. Grinding his claws into the saddle before him he saved his body from being swung head over tera'k horns, just as he also came to terms of what was before them.

The Broutherhood army had already arrived.

If they were trying to be hidden they were doing a poor job. A camp sprawled to the east - or at least the beginnings of one. There were so many of the Brotherhood force that even with Tylmerande's greatest and size it would not be able to house the staff, luggage, boot space, horse dung or armoury that was needed. Instead, the start of a rudimentary camp had begun, suggesting that they had been here for an hour, maybe more, and that already things beginning with a 'shhh' and ending with 'it' had gone down.

"Oh balls," muttered the huge human on the war horse who rose up to be beside him.

"Yes," grunted Veridian, now very pleased he had persuaded Philomel to give him one of her swords. It was slung across his back like a bard's lute. "Not good."

The man - Vaeron - paused before looking back behind him, to where their own army of three hundred strong were catching up to them in small packs of ten steeds across. It was perhaps careless to not be in one group, and thus be more protected, but the warrior mage had found that in this manner they could cover more ground. A large forest lay to the north and snaked towards Tylmerande, and some of the groups were able to use this as cover. From his brief view he could spy around eight groups currently at different stages of riding towards them - all female warriors, bared to the teeth with metal and best leather - with the rest probably close by.

"Look," Veridian said, and Vaeron looked back.

Following the fox-humanoid's paw he was able to spy the road that just peeked out of the general view of the city; the crest of a hill most convenient. Like an avenue to heaven it led the central way from the gate, upwards to the town hall, and it was on this that the fox and human could see three riders cantering.

Briefly, they were there, then they were gone, hidden back into the depths of the buildings.

Vaeron furrowed his brow, but nodded. "We must ..." he twisted, pulling his mighty horse Megladon with him, who huffed. Veridian was left, then, as the human charged down the hill they had crested, aiming straight for the closest group of Gilded Lily warriors. Blinking once more at the sight of the city under siege, yet who seemed to be welcoming their captors with open arms, Veridian gazed at the city, waiting to catch sight of the three riders once more. He had seen the unmistakable glint of the silver hair, the proud posture, the possible grin. Or perhaps the latter was the fox-form earth-spirit's imagination.

There was the noise of galloping behind him. Looking back Veridian saw that Vaeron had managed to contact one of the groups of warriors, who were now following him, whilst others were apparently hearing the news. With some awe Veridian watched as one rider broke off from the group, galloping at high speed towards that behind them. Then, one or two from that would ride off to others in a pre-arranged manner, creating a web of information that was fascinating to watch as well as worrying. It was clear they had fewer warriors than that at the crest of the hill. Were they simply to barter their way to peace? Spread rumour and gossip like they did this news, until they defeated the Brotherhood?

No. That was stupid. Yes, it was possibly a tactic that they could use to distract the Brotherhood for a while, but not defeat them.

"Come," Vaeron said, "we must go meet those barbarians."

He pointed at the town hall. Veridian paused, but nodded, shifting in his seat, and feeling more comfortable as the nine women now surrounded him and Vaeron. Collectively, they breathed in, as behind them the Gilded Lily prepared for what brilliance would occur.

There was a dull pause. The dusky sky overhead was overcast, suggesting the probable doom that was to come. A single crow cawed, and beat its way into the air.

A sigh passed from the fox's black lips.

Then they began to ride.

All to gallop fitfully through the city, and meet the Brotherhood 'heroes' at the town hall ... and demand they cease.

“One thing before we go in."

As they ascended the steps of the Magistrate's office, Storm Veritas and Hayate Amatsukami turned their heads in tandem in response to Shinsou Vaan Osiris’s voice, surprised expressions accompanying the motions as if they had not expected him to speak at all. The Telgradian’s steely eyes examined Storm’s sun beaten expression in particular, looking for the slight giveaway twitches that displayed at the corners of his eyes whenever the electromancer was forming one of his retorts. Nothing but a slightly bemused expression came back, whilst Hayate offered a slightly stern, if not puzzled, look.

“Do not underestimate what is about to happen,” The Telgradian began, flipping Enpera's sheath from right to left before securing it in his other hand, “we were expecting Tylmerande to be easy work. The town itself isn’t much of a threat – it’s like you said, Storm, we’re dealing with fisherman, traders and at best a local militia. But remember why we are here. This place is a shipyard for Corone’s navy, and a key one at that. The second word gets back to Radasanth of what has transpired here, you can bet your bollocks that they’ll throw everything they’ve got at us a day later. It won’t just be them, either; we’ll be getting every Radasanthian affiliated son-of-a-bitch within a hundred miles baying for our blood. In those numbers? Enemies, former collegues, and even friends. Are you both ready for that?”

There was a pause as Shinsou looked out beyond the hall, over the glimmering Coronian sea as a dirty harbour tug pushed the bow of one of the navy’s few ships in port around to the south, facing down the channel. The dock that had held the caravel for two interminable months was now just a water filled wooden box, one of the many specifically built for harbouring larger vessels for repairs and maintenance. On the edge, a collection of sailors and dockyard workers looked on without a wave or a cheer, oblivious to the monster that waited on the fringes of their territory.

“…For every action, there is an equal and opposite reaction, and a Coronian reaction is quite a fucking thing. That’s what we’re counting on. We want them to throw their resources at this like their lives depend on it, because when the time comes we need as many of their forces away from the capital as possible. That does, however, put a huge commitment onto our forces here,” He gave Storm and Hayate knowing looks, ones that were deliberately not returned, “So, when we ignite the fuse on Tylmerande, we need to make sure we’re ready.”

With not a word said between them, Shinsou’s gaze returned to the town from the steps, at the end of the stretched of crushed shells and glistening white shale. After a moment of scanning the outbuildings of the port, the Telgradian spotted the flag of the Coronian navy hanging limply from a pole aghast a bevy of concrete buildings to the south of the port. Men in pairs stood like toy soldiers, stiff as boards, to attention at a pair of wrought iron gates leading into the sun drenched docklands complex. That was going to be his second visit, but the more he thought about it, the more he wondered why he wasn't hitting the garrison first. Shinsou had come prepared for it. From within his coat pocket, Shinsou pulled a set of forged Coronian credentials. They had cost him a small fortune, paid to a disgruntled insider within the government who had been told the ruse was going to be used to leak military intelligence to the press. The fool would never know that his selfishness had lit the fire that would burn down the Radasanthian administration.

“There it is; the Coronian navy’s garrison. Forget the magister; that barracks is the first fuse. I don’t expect much in the way of resistance, but once we take it, make sure you’re wearing your war faces. Now, let’s go talk to the real man in charge, not this jumped up prick.”

**

Despite its huge bulk, the navy military accommodations would have shamed a Lornian gaoler.

The staff consisted of fifteen officers, housed in fairly decent cabins aft, and seventy enlisted men who were stuffed into whatever corners and racks they could find space in throughout the barracks. Indeed, the concrete building’s size was deceptive. The interior of the doubly thick stone shell was crammed with all sorts of navy hardware; pipework, bolts, valves, compressors and configuration levers, cannons and munitions and oil. There were various small arms stocked in cabins that were re-purposed as armouries. The men themselves served as a primary method of assault.

Shinsou, having been granted permission to enter the building with his “special advisors”, strode purposefully down the grimy length of the barracks, just behind the port’s commander. His name was Galshin, a young, stocky man who came across as both exceptionally well turned out and somewhat naïve to the Telgradian. The short journey to the port’s command room involved swerving overhanging pipes, sidestepping scurrying pedestrians and dodging supply burdened men. Everything stank of grease, sea salt and iron. As they went, Galshin slapped an anvil sized hand on the shoulder of a passing officer, stopping the young man in his tracks.

“I need you in command in five minutes. Fresh orders from Radasanth. I’ll be along presently.”

Galshin watched as his men jumped to their orders without question. Any order he gave could make experienced men shudder, and half of his crew were fresh from jails around Althanas, looking for a new opportunity to further their careers and appease the state that had granted them clemency. There were sudden pops outside as the hull of a ship being towed into port creaked under the strain of the waves below, something that Shinsou thought would take some getting used to, had he not been needed elsewhere very soon. Unseen by the giant commander, some of the younger men sat rigidly upright in their seats down the oily hallway. As Galshin, the Telgradian, Storm and Hayate entered and then passed through the room, the crew snapped to.

So it began.

It wasn’t long before they arrived at the wardroom. Galshin held the door open for his vice commander, who had joined the party as they exited of the command room, then closed and locked it behind himself. The wardroom was a spacious affair for what appeared to be such a small base, located immediately forward of the command room, aft of the officer accommodations. Its walls were soundproofed, and the door had a lock because the designers had known that not everything the officers had to say was for the ears of enlisted men. It was large enough for all of the officers to eat as a group – though at least three of them would always be on duty. The safe containing all current orders from the government, in case of Galshin’s death, was here and not in the commander’s own cabin where a man might use his solitude to try opening it by himself. It was hardly necessary to open it, as both Galshin and the vice commander knew the orders already, but Galshin was obsessive compulsive about keeping order; unusual for a man in such a profession as this.

The vice commander, a nondescript fellow who had the most forgettable face in port, poured tea whilst Galshin took his seat, lighting up a choice cigar from his overstocked collection.

“Thank you for seeing us. We’ve come direct from Radasanth with new orders.” Shinsou stated theatrically.

“Of course,” Galshin smiled, “Your authority again, gentlemen?”

“Indeed.” Shinsou slid his fingers beneath the already broken wax seal on the envelope containing his forged written clearance and directive. “As the orders dictate, you are to release one of the anchored caravels to intercept a rogue Coronian merchant vessel named Domine immediately. The interception area is confined to forty square kilometers.”

Galshin frowned, digesting the orders carefully, before nodding towards his vice commander. “It’ll put a strain on our resources, and I can’t say I’m happy about it, but all is in order. Sooner it’s done, sooner we’re back at full strength. See it done, sir.”

The vice commander saluted, before disappearing back through the door. Shinsou, wringing his fingers through his hands, looked at both Storm and Hayate with another one of his knowing looks. With a ship crewed by half of the port’s strength out on a wild goose chase, their job would be infinitely easier.

Just give the vice commander a few minutes grace to organise the boat trip, wave him off at the harbour and then Tylmerande is ours.

Galshin stubbed the cigar butt out, blowing away the bluish plumes of smoke, before standing. “So, again I am permitted to watch the government befuddle my operations. Anyone would think we were a novice organisation, the way we waste men.” He turned towards the door. “Join me, gentlemen. I think-“

Shinsou kicked Galshin’s feet out from under him just as he was stepping away from the table. The giant fell backwards while Osiris sprang to his feet and grasped the naval base leader’s bear like head in his hands. He drove his neck downward to the sharp, metal edge corner of the wardroom table, striking the point. In the same instant, he pushed down on the man’s chest. An unnecessary gesture – with the sickening crackle of bones Galshin’s tree trunk like neck broke, his spine severed at the level of the second cervical vertebra; a perfect hangman’s fracture.

Galshin had no time to react. The nerves to his body below the neck were instantly cut off from the organs and muscles they controlled. He tried to shout, to say something, but the mouth flapped open and shut without a sound except for the exhalation of his last lungful of air. He tried to gulp air down like a landed fish, but this didn’t work. Then his eyes went up to Shinsou, wide in shock – there was no pain, and no emotion but surprise.

Shinsou laid him gently on the tile deck. He saw the face flash with recognition, then darken.

That’s the spark that lights the fire. All we have to do is keep quiet for a few minutes until the caravel leaves, then march the whole goddamned Brotherhood into town...

Moments later, wiping the dust from a nearby chair and seating himself, Shinsou nodded to his men and leaned forward.

“As soon as that ship leaves port, we leave this room and blast our way through the remaining men, but until then keep that door locked. I want one person and one person alone to find his way to Radasanth to inform the government of what happened here. They’ll send everything they’ve got, and while the Brotherhood holds the fort here, with Hayate in command, me and Storm head to Radasanth alone. With their army distracted here, we’ll get into the assembly and use Stygian to influence the most powerful senators. From there…”

Shinsou brushed a bang out of his face, revealing his golden, glowing eyes.

“No-one will be able to get in our way.”

Storm watched with a bit of disturbance at the ruthlessness with which Shinsou dispatched the pirate captain. The entire charade was done so cavalierly, it was almost out of step for the swordsman. To kill a man in plain sight so savagely lacked some of the finesse and discretion that the experienced warrior usually displayed. Still, in the small, locked room, it was an easy, safe way for him to execute the relatively useless Galshin. Additionally, the heavy-handed nature of the thing would likely send the messager with a notion that the uprising was done by barbarians.

“You could have gotten the safe combination before you stomped his f*cking head off.” Veritas smiled with feigned benevolence, amused a bit at the morose scene.

Gazing down, the forever-shocked gaze of the dead man peered off at infinity as the new leadership of the Brotherhood gathered about the table. Hayate was learning by fire here, and must have earned some special trust by Vaan Osiris to be privy to such strategy.

“On the open water, it’s best they not know we’re out there. Let them send the warships; they’ll send the iron-hulled boats and cannoned galleons to crush the uprising if they think they’re dealing with civilians. Between my lightning and magnetic skills, and Shinsou’s new freezy-bullshit, we’ll take the entire Coronian Armada tits-high in twenty minutes. They send the second rate wooden fleets… we’ve got a steeper hill to climb.”

Looking directly at Hayate, a smirk from the old adventurer.

"Now, can you think of any particularly suitable messengers that could deliver a convincing word to Radasanth that Tylermande had been overrun by barbarians, and not the most powerful wizards in the world!?

"I can maybe think of one..." A wink to the young man from the dimpled face of the smiling politician.

Bemused, Storm rolled a pinch of tobacco across his thumbs before plunging the thumbful into his pipe. Although he didn’t have matches on him, the fire generated by the pipe would consume some of the decaying-corpse fumes being generated in the room. A small vent in the corner allowed for some escape of the otherwise oppressive gray smoke, although the wizard estimated those to not enjoy pipe smoke to be soft and weak-willed anyway.

Looking at the door, the echoes behind of the growing police force was beginning to fester. Completely nonplussed, both Storm and Shinsou were now standing, leaning against different fixtures in the small room, as though expecting a birthday cake to be paraded in. Perhaps more reasonably, Hayate appeared more tense, and understandably preparing for a showdown of sorts.

“Kid…” The wizard spoke through clenched teeth and a smile, gesturing with a large hand and long, thin fingers towards the door. “It’s going to take them a few to muster the balls to open the door. You can hear them chattering out there; they don’t have the numbers to just overwhelm us or they’d have rammed the door already. They’ll probably try something cute first; a little smoke grenade or through-door volley of shots to cull the herd.”

As if realizing the error of his own laziness, Storm gestured towards the safe, twitching his fingers to pop the pins from the metal hinges, gently turning his fingers again the release the tumblers inside the lock. The door obediently fell from the front of the safe, but was caught in mid air by his invisible hand, and guided smoothly across the room to ballast the front door.

“Won’t be worrying about their two-crown muskets blowing a hole in that bastard, but you’ll want to clear me a path. Whatever they DO manage to push through the door at us is going to taste a special flavor of hell.”

There was an awful crunch as the man' s neck was severed against the corner of his desk. His body laid limb, settled in a pool of his own blood. This marked the beginning of what was soon to be one of the largest wars to ever befall the island of Corone. Anxiety washed over the last of the Amatsukami briefly submerging him in an ocean of doubt. Storm Veritas broke the tension in the air by cracking a small joke at the corpse’s expense.

Before long the magician displayed his exemplary powers of magnetism by effortlessly removing the large door to the office safe and using it to ballast the entrance. He mused that there couldn’t possibly be enough man power on the other side to force their way in and based on the muffled chatter outside Hayate agreed. The military police would have rushed in if they thought they had a chance. This gave the trio, Hayate particularly, enough time to prepare themselves.

“I assume that means I’m up,” Hayate answered the magician’s request. “Clearing paths is my specialty.”

The shinobi shifted his gaze between Storm and Shinsou as if to ask for permission. Then with his right arm Hayate clutched the hilt of his mighty Nodachi and swiftly unsheathed his partner. Its blade stretched nearly three meters and along its length ancient ruins told tales of magics long forgotten in the recent era. It pulsated to the rhythm of his heartbeat as if proclaiming a deeper connection between the two.

“Falling from the heavens above, cast out by Thaynes and sentenced to an eternity of despair.” He began to say as the tip of his mighty sword started to fracture, splinter and then turn to dust. “Rise up Corpse King and force your enemies to their knees!”

A blinding white light filled the room as the rest of his weapon faded out of reality. Around the Shinobi a skeletal visage began to form. Sinews of mussel and flesh lurched out from the boy’s left arm attaching itself to the ethereal armor he conjured. This was a little something he had picked up to compensate for his left arm, a partial manifestation of his avatar granting him remarkable strength and durability.

“Alright,” he said as the light faded from the room. He flexed his new arm for a moment before placing it up to the safe door. “A preemptive strike then?”

“Show them what you can do.” Shinsou said giving Hayate the greenlight. He and Storm readied themselves to fallow directly behind him and with a nod instructed Hayate to proceed.

With a smirk the last Amatsukami dug his ethereal fingertips deep into the solid steel of the safe door. Things were about to get rough for the men getting ready on the other side of the door. Without warning Hayate lifted the safe off the ground and with the extra help from Storm started to walk forward completely shattering the entrance to the office. He could hear a number of men shouting to back up and scatter to get out of the way as he started to pick up momentum practically bulldozing the entire hallway as he pushed forward.

The floor became slick with blood and with every footfall Hayate and the others started to slide about.

“Your turn!” he yelled, now at full speed and nearing the opening to the main hall of the structure. He would be able to continue to use the safe door to block off the police forces to the right hand side but the rest was up to the others.

Whatever happened next would be passed down in tales to the next generation for sure.

If Storm Veritas had been wondering why Shinsou had placed so much faith in the young Hayate Amatsukami's abilities, the carnage that followed in those blurry seconds would have put paid to such questions.

Quite simply, the young Akishiman had unleashed hell upon the remainder of the naval garrison. As furniture and weapons flew chaotically about the enclosed space, bones were broken and blood splattered over the ironwork flooring of the port authority's main base of operations, the Brotherhood's latest student cleared enough of a path for Shinsou and Storm to rush into action through Hayate's drag. One of the braver, surviving soldiers tried to anticipate the advancing pair's approach and darted from behind a pillar, military issue sword drawn, hoping to bring his blade to bear against the stomachs of his onrushing opponents. His feet pounded the metal grates underfoot and scattered the splattered gore in splashes all around.

It was too late. The Telgradian, to Storm's right as they lashed forwards into the murky complex behind Hayate, had already sensed the man's presence and roared into action. Scooping Enpera from the ground with a quiet grunt and guiding it expertly into a powerful upward arc, the nameless soldier's head snapped back violently on contact, only a pitiful whimper escaping his lips. As Shinsou Vaan Osiris and Storm Veritas sprinted past him without a second thought, the soldier crashed to the floor, his long, matted black hair whipping the air about his head. A jagged crevice up the man's chest and neck was all that his courage had earned him.

Ten meters ahead, to Storm's left, another soldier, this time a stocky female, held her nerve amongst the slaughter and attempted to dive at the electromancer's unprotected neck with a hunting knife. Needing slightly more focus to deal with the threat than Osiris, Storm twisted his lithe and finery swathed body just in time, pivoting on his heel and thrusting a palm towards the blade of the lethal dagger. His fearsome magnetism was more than enough to overpower the woman's control over the weapon and barely a second passed before the knife had turned and plunged deep into her smartly adorned abdomen. A pair of once bright, alert eyes that had gleamed beneath strands of golden blonde hair faded as a spurt of crimson stained her pristine blue uniform. Their last moments saw Storm Veritas's stern visage snarling back at them, the electromancer's creased face smattered with splashes of blood from the force of the brutal attack. The dying woman, carried by her own momentum, rolled carelessly over a fallen table, behind which some of Hayate's victims had clumped; a crimson pool forming below the face-down corpses.

"More coming!" Yelled the Telgradian to Hayate ahead, and Storm to his left, as he sensed a dense cluster of life forces converging on their route out of the base. He knew that the hellacious racket and screams of the dying would have alerted every remaining soldier in the building, and now the only plan was to go route one. The garrison could be heard long before they came into sight. Their quick footsteps stomped heavily on the metal that blanketed every uneven surface in the base, the crunches of their booted feet upon the oily iron and the pounding of their breath upon the air the only signs of their existence. To the un-trained ear, it was as if the patter of raindrops had reached Tylmerande. To those present, it was the coming of death’s agents.

Shinsou clung to the hilt of his sword tighter as the noises grew closer and closer. Knowing that their exit was cut off, and slowing their run, collectively, the trio patiently waited for the first attacks to come. This section of the base was the forwardmost part, the bulkhead before the entrance, but had a berth wide enough to accommodate an influx of soliders a hundred strong from two corridors either side. The light was poor and the growing number of audible steps, mixed with the rattling of arms, and above it all the tell-tale grunting as dozens of men flanked the trio told the Telgradian that they were badly outnumbered. Before Shinsou had even had a chance to respond, they were in view; the remainder of the men in the base appearing in perfect double rank formation. The lines of blue uniforms, their curved, polished sabres unsheathed, waited.

Suddenly, the sound of a bowstring snapping panged through the air, and from an unseen part of the room a crossbow bolt thundered through the air and struck the Telgradian in his left shoulder. Shinsou recoiled immediately, face grimacing in agony as the iron missle carved though flesh and sinew, the head lodging itself near his collarbone. Through watering eyes, Osiris could now see the maddened eyes of the soldiers that advanced towards him, snorting and hissing clouds of white vapour.

“Storm, Hayate, get down!” Shinsou seethed, almost screaming.

Whatever Hayate, Storm or the soldiers had yelled in response was lost in the chaos.

Behind the bleeding Shinsou, a few feet above the crest of his oaken hair, powerful arcane energies began to meld together in the ambient light of the base internals. Crashing tendrils of black and purple convulsed and converged around each other to form a portal of black and purple energy that stretched almost the entire breadth of the room. The sheer corrosive force of the dark magic chewed into the grimy brickwork either side of the Telgradian, opening up a massive semi-circle into each of the walls flanking him that left a whistling expanse of space where solid stone used to be.

Storm Veritas, now familiar with the workings of Shinsou Vaan Osiris's dark magic, had witnessed the beginnings of Enpera Kurohitsugi before - but his expression instantly told that something was different. He had seen nothing from Shinsou on this scale before. The violence of the electrical activity, the throbbing of energy and the heat radiating from the spell was simply ravaging, full of anger and almost feral. Out of the black chasm that gaped behind him, protruding from the wall of marbled purple and jet, were almost countless lances of dark matter, a number far superior to what Veritas thought capable of his Telgradian counterpart. Shinsou’s mind raced. He tried to calculate through the pain the trajectories for killing his targets, consisting of about forty men. It would not be an easy feat, of that he was sure. But whatever the method, he had to do it now.

Without even having to motion, Shinsou commanded the hellstorm of lances forwards. They shot out of the portal and wildly tore towards their intended recipients, forks of blue and purple electricity ripping at the masonry, pipes and iron around them and scorching everything confined within as they travelled. Through the electric trail of his powerful volley, Shinsou gave the base's final stand an incredulous stare.

Die.

***

Emerging from the concrete maw of the slaughtered naval garrison, a visibly perturbed Telgradian, flanked by the electromancer and his own understudy, made their way on foot back towards the centre of a now militarily deprived Tylmerande, where their horses had been left. The crossbow bolt had been removed from his shoulder, and Storm had graciously cauterized the wound using some of his most tame magic, but even a heavily controlled portion of his friend's ability had felt as if he had been stung by a Fallien scorpion.

The quiet of the sun drenched townscape seemed completely at odds with the events of the last thirty minutes, given that they had just committed a small scale genocide at the port, although it would have been difficult for the townspeople to have heard much from within those thick concrete walls. The good news for the trio was that the threat of the other half of the garrison returning anytime soon was nil, given the interception distance from the phoney orders.

"At worst," The Telgradian panted, rubbing his shoulder, "We have two days before-"

Suddenly, a tingling sensation erupted within the pit of his stomach. It was then, as the sensation settled, that the swordsman felt it; a power that felt like a sudden burst of light amongst a gigantic sheet of seething icy shadow. It was faint at first, barely even registering in his gut, but became heavier quickly, as if approaching him at speed. Shinsou had felt that same power not too long ago.

Vaeron?!

As suddenly as the first power had, a second energy manifested within the range of Shinsou’s senses. This one he recognised instantly as it clashed against the first. It was bathed in electric red and felt as if a kiln of burning energy had overturned inside him. It wasn't human, but it was unmistakeable, and far more intense than he had ever remembered.

Veridian...Vaeron and Veridian. If you two are here, where is...

Everything was fuzzy around the edges. The amount of energy he had expended on his Enpera Kurohitsugi hadn't done him much good, but now something else crept up on the wily Telgradian. Images of her. Earlier, he had instructed both the men in his presence to be prepared for the inevitable kickback of their conquests; the time when their friends would take a stand against these perceived slights. But, ironically, not once had Shinsou considered the impact that all of this would have on his relationship with Philomel van der Aart, his closest friend, his lover; the one woman he...

As the two energies grew closer to him to the point of being on top of him, Shinsou steeled himself and prepared to face the consequences of what he wrought.

If you two are here, it can only be at her direction. If she has sent you here, then...

Reaching the gate to the city was by no means an easy task. The scourge that was the Brotherhood army, encamped upon the hill and upon the great expanse east of Tylmerande meant that the path was not clear. With just the lonesome group of themselves, aiming to confront Shinsou vaan Osiris and his cronies peacefully, they needed to attempt to get through the gates but without causing disturbance. The question became clear in their mind - why would a group of individuals be riding into a city under siege? They would be noticed, assailed upon and questioned.

Nine warrior women, a human mage and a humanoid fox were not enough to contend with a army that was at least a thousand strong. Even coming from the narrower areas where the Brotherhood was not - for instance via the forest where it barely grazed the city - all of it took careful planning. In the end they opted for the choice of swinging by the west, and following the shadow of the wall. Five of the Lily warriors remained in key positions upon the outside to continue to relay information back to the main army, who would by now be gathering together just behind the hill they had originally ascended from. They would be the emergency in case of dire need; able to abseil a tower or two and rescue Vaeron, Veridian and company, if the time needed.

Thus, as as smaller group originally planned, they entered by the dreary commoners gate, which lay by the river, aka the sewer. Few considered it even a gate apparently, for there was hardly a road left, only mud. Quietly they managed to open the door, by way of one of the Lily warriors an expert lock-pick and began to squeeze within. It was only at this point when the sound of rapid hooves could be heard from behind them.

Vaeron, who was halfway through the gate, swung his mighty war steed Megladon around, and yanked out his glorious indigo dagger. It glistened in the moonlight, and was joined shortly by five other blades singing. Horses reared and snorted, and fear lay in eyes for this sudden disturbance; however, the group would stand their ground until death. No matter what was coming, even if it were to be the entire Brotherhood army, they would fight to the last, with Philomel van der Aart's name whispered on their dying lips.

"Fff-"

A rider came zooming around the side of the city walls - then immediately cursed. A lone being, a huge woman dressed in heavy steel armour, swathed in a rich black cloak. It matched the coming dusk that they were under, with the shadows thick and heavy. The cloak itself seemed old bulged at her back. Tall and strong as she was brilliant, she rode a horse almost as big as Vaeron's. Pulling her horse to a halt she stared wildly at the warriors ready to die, and yanked back her hood, releasing a mane of fair hair and a face as gruff and irritated as the night is long.

An instant sigh of relief fell over the group. An awkward hand rose from the mighty woman. "I am not here to kill you."

"What are you doing here, Maverick?" Vaeron hissed, lowering his bow. His eyes were like condemning daggers. "You were supposed to be at the rear guard, seeing everyone off the ship."

"Everyone is off the ship, old man," Maverick said, eyeing him.

She nodded to her fellow warriors, some of whom bent their heads in respect and murmured, "General."

He shook his head. "Well why come here now. We are about to go meet with the villain and persuade him to do give up this coup."

Maverick nodded, looking less amused. "Yes. I heard, hence why I am here. You are an idiot if you think this is going to work. A Coronian navy ship just began to leave the harbour. This is much more of a situation than we think. You go in there and you will die."

"We cannot fight them with what we have," he growled, "this is currently the only way. We saw them go up to the town hall and we will face them there, alone and-"

"Town hall?" Maverick looked confused. "No, they are at the navy base now."

The man paused, his top lip curling. The others in the group seemed to recoil at the tension building from this contestation of wills and authority. The general of the army versus the de-facto second in command of the Gilded Lily entire. Vaeron glared at Maverick for a moment, finding no good reason why she would lie.

"Fine," he shrugged, "We will go to the navy base."

She shook her head in disbelief. "You are an idiot, old man! Why would vaan Osiris listen to you?"

"Might listen to me," grunted a lower voice.

Both of them looked over to see the bored, foxy face of Veridian blinking at them with golden eyes. In his hand he still held the sword known as the Rabbit. He shrugged. "Is true. He knows me."

"As a fox. Not as ..." Maverick waved a hand up and down at him, "That."

Veridian began to growl, his beastly side becoming apparent. "Fine enough shape."

"Uh huh," Maverick raised a brow. "How long have you trained with a sword?"

"Seen Philomel beloved enough. Share soul, you are idiot."

"'Seeing' the matriarch fight is not the same as 'training,' fox. You are-"

There came a sudden gasp from someone. All arguing ceased as the odd lump behind Maverick suddenly moved. One warrior lifted her hand and pointed it out as Maverick's face fell to horror and then she cringed. Turning her head she saw as the thing she had been trying to hide poked her head out of the shroud of material, blinked sleepily into the dusk and smiled.

"Hello everyone," Celandine said, waving.

There was a long, ugly pause. Eyes stared at the young princess, Philomel's heir and daughter sitting there on the back of a huge warhorse, right in the centre of a war zone. Celandine's eyes moved across the group, until she alighted of those on Vaeron and Veridian and she grinned. "Hello father, hello fox."

"What. The. Idiot! You brought her here?!" Vaeron shrieked.

"Shhh, you will wake the whole city," Maverick scowled back. "And it is not my fault. She stowed away on the ship. I couldn't exactly leave her there could I, by herself? By the time I heard about your ridiculous plan I had no other choice really, than to keep her with me, and come right here. I won't risk anyone else taking her."

"The Princess will kill you!" Vaeron thrust an accusing finger in her direction.

"She is safe with me," Maverick puffed out her chest proudly. "Now, let's all leave this place now and-"

"We are sticking with our plan," Vaeron said sourly, pulling his horse around.

The argument went on, with Maverick going back into the same reasons why it was a stupid idea. Veridian, as he watched them, finding that he preferred being a listener, rather than a partaker, paused, as his golden eyes moved to Celandine. There she sat, the small faun so innocent and perfect, a picture of glory for all to see. She was these people's rue princess, the heir to the Gilded Lily empire, and an incredibly fast learner. Although she was just five she held herself as a ten year old, strong, fast and able with a sure personality. Smiling, she watched the people in her life shouting whilst they were all supposed to be sneaking into a city. Veridian knew it was likely that their cover was blown, and he began to think of what Celandine would do in this situation. She was all charm and cuteness, and could hold her own considerably in a fight for one so young. But what if it never came to a fight? Certainly the small hoofed princess had always preferred diplomacy to war craft, taking to her history and philosophy lessons far easier than her sword play. She had asked for a weapon of her own for a while, yes, but that was mainly because her birth father and mother were warriors, and she wanted to so much be like them. Adorable as she was bright, she was grinning now in the face of all this danger, and it suddenly struck the fox-form earth-spirit that in fact maybe their answer to gaining entrance into the city was in front of them all along.

"Drys ..."

He yanked on the reigns of his musk oxen-like beast tera'k, driving it forwards. One horse had to shy out of the way for him, and he gained an odd glance from Vaeron, but that was all. The man continued to shout at the general. Quietly Veridian brought his animal up beside Maverick, who barely flinched at his approach. He grinned a pointy-toothed smile as he leaned towards Celandine and whispered.

"You want to help ?" he asked.

Celandine paused, then nodded. "Why I stoled away on the ship," she said quietly.

He gave her a sly wink. "Then I help. Come," and he subtly gestured to her. The young faun glanced upwards to Maverick, then frowned a little, before looking back to Veridian and his steed. She did like tera'k, she used to have one herself before he died, saving her life.

"What do?"

And, grinning, he moved down to whisper in her ear.

A slow smiled spread across Celandine's face. Her eyes looked to everyone, distracted by the argument that had people with their heads in their hands, sighing, Maverick and Vearon gesticulating wildly at each other, and the wide door of the city open so generously ...

Seconds passed. Slowly, she nodded, and Veridian rose, shifting in his saddle. He made to take his tera'k for an idle wander, causing the hairy and fat bovine to take a few steps forwards, then circle around. Gradually he came back towards Maverick, humming a little, as if entirely distracted. The tera'k came right up by Maverik's steed, and as it did Celandine let her hand trail into the soft fur. She grinned a little, happy to be with such a creature again, and her eyes rose to meet Veridian's. They smiled together, mischievousness within them before -

She moved. Fast. Jumping right from the the horse to the tera'k. At the same time Veridian slapped the behind of his mount and suddenly they were lunging forwards.

Both of them laughed, loud and clear, as the animal ran for its life in the place it was directed. In through the gate, galloping wild and free. Right into the city.

The fox and faun ran, ran for their lives as people began to freak out. Vaeron shouted, turned Megladon in a gasp as Veridian kept going. Oh yes, the warrior mage and the general followed, naturally, in a way that was not subtle in the way designed previously; but then, they had been arguing loudly. So very loudly, that Veridian would not be surprised if the entire city was now awake.

He let the chase go on, alerting the city and the Brotherhood, distracting the world. He heard the sounds of battle and headed towards it, drawing his sword as he did and grinning. No contact with Philomel, nothing of that sort, just straight forwards until he saw the naval base before him. He held up his head.

"I demand an audience with the one called Shinsou vaan Osiris," he crooned at the top of his excited lungs, his voice a howl and a yowl and a bark. "Tell him to come out and face us. We are here for diplomatic discussions!"

Maverick and Vaeron and the others soon caught up with him as they watched the terror of the naval base occur, people fleeing for their lives, explosions and magical lights aplenty from within. But Veridian had broken all their subtly now, or had they ruined that themselves? It did not matter, for here they were now, demanding a direct audience.

The entire battle came and went in a massive wave; the momentum of the Brotherhood finally overwhelming the forces of Tylermande. In spite of the large numbers coming through in at the trio, Storm, Shinsou and Hayate were brazen, brutal, and effective. The waves of men were initially cut through, and Shinsou’s fantastic assault stopped the largest throng with his savage dark pulse attack, also festering with electricity.

When the smoke cleared from the massive blast, Storm eyed the warzone, dashing back and forth with terrible little leaps, driving daggers under the chins of downed and dying enemies in the echo of chaos. There was no reason to let them suffer further; these were brave strangers that would have made fine pawns for him in another lifetime. Worse, if not finished some would likely recover to some degree, with a flourish for the dramatic and some damned fool idea to attack the trio.

As smoke rose in a great chimney from the space where the battle had erupted, the inroads of Brotherhood soldiers arrived, slashing and cleaning and killing on cue. Looking at Hayate and Shinsou aiding in the finalization of the first wave of Tylermandians, a pang of jealousy tore at Storm. Shinsou had incorporated a new element into the fray, or so it seemed.

Electricity?! Trying to work my f*cking corner, Shin? And when does the power end?

Vaan Osiris was a great warrior and better friend, but the prideful Veritas couldn’t help but sneer at the notion that another special had more raw power. To direct such energy along an electrical impulse seemed an almost direct line to show how utterly replaceable the aging wizard had become.

Covered in rock dust, the three warriors cleared their brows as they marched up from the cinder stones, only a bolt in Shinsou and sweat lines about the necks, arms, and chests of the men proving the trio’s humanity. As the Telgradian explained his theory of low time, he was taken by a vision that distracted him distinctly. As Shinsou seemed to stare off into the sea towards Raiera, the elder wizard noticed a small band of horse-backed idiots barking orders at them.

These assholes have -got- to be shitting me.

No sooner than one of them had mentioned “diplomatic discussions” did Storm unseat the first damned fool by the very essence of her metal armor. Hoisting the armor high above the beautiful auburn steed with merely the raise of his hand, Veritas scowled and closed his fingers slightly, crushing the armor gently around the chest of the woman he’d later learn to call “Maverick”. The once bold eyes of the rider grew wild, shocked, and completely unaware. It seemed preposterous that people would attack any group including Storm Veritas with metal armor; the electromancer aimed to reprove his worth with a show of strength.

“I’m not sure you and yours are in a position to demand a gods-damned thing! Lions don’t concern themselves with the affairs of sheep; I’m not sure if you’ve noticed the blood-stained wool about you.” Storm’s voice boomed with sinister intent and anger.

“Storm – let her go.” Shinsou the eternal killer of fun beckoned him with resignation. Whatever the vision had been which captured the full attention of Vaan Osiris had either left him or granted him vision with this; the confidence and knowledge behind his friends voice was ultimately not to be doubted.

Still sneering, Storm turned his eyes from the gasping imbecile to Shinsou, still holding his dusted arm lightly in the air with frustration. Opening his hand with a flick, he released his hold, allowing Maverick to crash to the earth in a heap, likely spraining an ankle in the process. Despite the inevitable pain, there was relief, as the metal about his torso stress-relieved, a tinging sound as it tinged back into its normal shape and ceasing the slow strangle.

“These assholes friends of yours? A little late for litigation, no!?” Storm was tired, frustrated, and was generally wont to believe diplomacy was for people not risking their lives in combat. To the victors go the spoils was more his ideology in matters of battle. That there were only ten or so travelers in the small pack seemed like stilted odds, as though another shoe remained to drop.

Shinsou returned his look with a bit of fear. His eyes shot about the field, looking for an unseen enemy. The lack of relaxation given the situation lended serious cause for concern in Storm. “No…” his voice trailed as he continued to scan about. “More friends of a friend.”

Something was coming, and Storm had missed it.

Hayate Amatsukami and the others watched in awe as Storm lifted the frailty into the air as they came riding in calling out for peace.

“Petra,” Hayate started as he left the Wizard Veritas to deal with the newcomers. He cared as much for their theatrics as Storm did and with contempt left them to be dealt with by his superiors; politics were never his strong suit anyway. “Grab you crap and let’s go.”

Poking her head from around the corner a small squirrely girl came into view carrying an assortment of bags and other unimportant items. Petra Wonderweiss, a member of the Immortals, was never far from Hayate and even in the midst of battle was ready on the moment’s notice. She scurried from around the corner quickly to the lone Amatsukami’s side as the two departed from the rest of the group heading back towards the town hall.

“Have you the ledgers?” Hayate asked as the two were out of earshot of the others. His steely gaze met her shy timid eyes as she fiddled around in one of the bags hanging from her side. After a moment she pulled out a number of scrolls and papers wadded into a neat mess.

“Most of them anyway, why did you ask us to grab these?” She said as a number of others appeared behind the two. Like shadows pealing themselves from the walls a train of dark cloaked figures fallowed Hayate. They were the Immortals, a splinter cell within the ranks of the Brotherhood, and they answered to Hayate alone.

“These are the manifests of all the cargo that comes in and out of this place, Tylermande is one of the most active ports on the whole damned island, imagine how many shipments of iron and steel there must be laying around here, not to mention all the money lying about to afford such shipments.”

These ledgers will help them to gather and count all the spoils that the Brotherhood had just claimed, better still they would give them bargaining chips in case things would go south later on in their invasion. Hayate was tasked with guarding the port until the last moment and he and his men would do just that. But in the case they have to flee or were routed these supplies would be used as insurance for his men. While this whole invasion and the politics behind it were a bit above Hayate’s pay grade he wouldn’t let anything happen to his men and the Immortals would be ready to do whatever it takes buy enough time for Vann Osiris.

“I want you all to start gathering the things on these documents and keep them safe from the reaches of anyone, this means if they aren’t apart of the Immortals then they have no business even knowing about this.”

“Sir, you mean even from Shinsou and Storm?” Petra said as she handed the ledgers to the man behind her, and as the hooded figure grabbed the pieces of parchment the group of them vanished as quickly as the appeared. “I don’t think they would be pleased with us withholding this information.”

“Piss on what they all want, I’ve been playing this game with Shinsou for long enough that If my methods become a problem for him then ill deal with him, and Veritas is more concerned with his own relevance in this entire rag tag army he put together that Shinsou should keep busy enough. Besides, Vann Osiris owes me big for everything I gave up to join his cause.”

The only thing left for him to do was to play the waiting game and hope for a quick resolution.

"You don't do that," hissed Vaeron, his blade swinging out into the air.

One of the Lily warriors gasped as their general slumped to the ground, her eyes wide. She slipped off her horse, running forwards to Maverick's aid as the rest took a up a steady position around the fox-faced Veridian, the huge mage on his black steed, and what was peeking out now from behind the fox.

Celandine watched as one of the strange men detached himself from the side of the other two and ran to meet a short, funny looking woman. She saw papers being shown, and tipped her head as the adults in her life began to seethe. Personally all this was a show to her, of people demonstrating with weaponry and magic, calling one another names and being rude. They were the leaders of armies, the proud sons of kings, yet also sounded so silly. She smiled a little at the strange man talked to his new friends who had appeared and seemed happier amongst them. She hoped he, the man in the robes with the slightly curved blades and honour in his stride, would find a better day with those he was with now.

Much different from Vaeron. Her father.

He was turning on the man who had struck down Maverick.

"You," he hissed. "How dare you -"

"Shinsou vaan Osiris," Veridian interrupted him. His foxy mouth moved and he spoke true and direct words. Eyes of gold settled on the silver haired warrior, he who had been the creator of this generation of the Brotherhood, and dear lover to his beloved soul-sibling Philomel. Now a name she refused to speak.

He tasted the words around in his mouth, as did Celandine. To him they tasted bitter, to her they were like liquorice. Interesting. Not quite sweet, a little tangy.

The people around them seemed to go silent. Only the tera'k made a quiet huff. The Lily warrior who had run to her general worked to get Maverick back to her feet, desperately and swiftly as a stalemate seemed to settle. Ones holding bows had them lowered to the ground but Celandine, Veridian and Vaeron knew how swift they could be pulled and released. They had been holding them steady since first entering the sieged city.

Slowly, Shinsou looked over to Veridian seated on the bovine mount. Veridian stared right at him, intensely, holding onto the reins tight and baring himself strong.

"You have disappointed her greatly," he said quietly, "greatly. She will no longer speak your name and her memories of you are but scars that she aches to be rid of. You are dirt on our shoes, the scum of the earth that lines the road the Gilded Lily walks down, and the sworn enemy of Drys herself. You and your kin are given this single warning to leave."

The fox took a breath, before he learnt closer.

"You have broken Philomel's heart," he whispered, disgusted at him, "and I know because it beats in mine. You have spoilt and broken everything you had."

There was silence. Long and horrible.

Vaeron bade his horse come forwards. "We demand you leave this country."

Veridian's words faded into the chilly coastal wind whilst Tylmerande held its breath. Eyes swerved and focused onto Shinsou Vaan Osiris, who stood stock-still and just stared at the bipedal fox. It was the first time he had seen him in this unusual form; it seemed advanced, and seethed in burning red arcane power that shared many traits with Philomel van der Aart's own signature. This form and the energy that bathed it fuelled something within him, amplifying the delivery of the fox's message. Instantly, upon hearing the damning indictment delivered by this new incarnation of Philomel's beloved, a tsunami of emotions swept over the Telgradian and a million potential responses shot through the pathways of his brain. No matter how hard he focused, though, Shinsou could not seem to find the right words to put together.

"You have broken Philomel's heart."

All of Shinsou's clarity shattered like glass on replaying the phrase in his mind. A million more responses scattered like ash into the wind. These five words were the confirmation of everything that he had warned Storm and Hayate about not half an hour before. They all knew and accepted that enemies would be made, and they had come to accept that enemies would also be made out of friends; perhaps even lovers. Even so, when Veridian delivered the reality that Shinsou had been so afraid of all this time, it made it no easier to bear.

It did, however, do something strange to the Telgradian. This crusade was different from all the other missions and battles that had come before it, when every effort had resulted in a sense of satisfaction. The Telgradian had become accustomed to hearing words of affirmation, that he and his Brotherhood had made the difference between life and death for his friends; Joshua Cronen, Storm Veritas, Philomel Van der Aart, Hayate Amatsukami and even John Cromwell. But whilst he hadn't done anything to directly endanger the life of his beloved Philomel, he had not been able to salvage her respect, either. It felt like a first mission failure. It felt like he had already lost her, without having had a single chance to explain his motivations for any of this. Would she hear how they intended to put an end to poverty in Corone? To ensure that working families had enough money to feed and clothe their children? To ensure that corruption in the assembly was completely wiped out, and that the working girls of the Lily could be guaranteed their freedom and safety without having to rely on the Rangers?

He doubted she would even so much as receive him, now, and with those doubts came a new, hard resolve to press on and discard the past. Shinsou Vaan Osiris was not a tyrant, and although there would be a blood price to the era he, Storm and Hayate would shepard in, each life lost in the conflict would be vindicated a thousand times over with the freedom and welfare bestowed upon the people of Corone. Each breath reverberated around the clearing like a cymbal, yet no-one blinked or moved to mute them as Shinsou's response finally slipped through his pursed lips.

"No one is going anywhere, Veridian, because there is too much at stake. I've already accepted that has come at a price - Philomel, the Gilded Lily. This entire chapter in our lives. I loved her, but you see, I've watched Corone carefully - come to understand the motivations of those governing us. Maybe you all think the only way is to leave this all behind, but we can't just step it all down. With this government in power, everything will be worse. I don't expect you or Philomel to agree."

Shinsou cranked his right arm up, allowing a cloud of shimmering particles to form beneath his palm. Immediately the mounts opposite bucked, rearing up and almost throwing their riders as they sensed the impending danger. As the particles floated to the floor, a ring of permafrost quickly circumvented the troupe of Vaeron, Veridian, Celandine and Maverick, before a series of six foot high columns of dehlar strength ice crashed up through the shale lined floor and fused together, imprisoning them in a freezing circle.

"Our time is up," Shinsou said wistfully, wiping his palm across the lapel of his white coat, " I won't kill you - but I won't have you standing in our way. Until we see each other again."

With the frustrated faces of Philomel's imprisoned posse glaring back through the icy bars of their pen, Shinsou turned and beckoned to both Storm and Hayate. A few moments later, their forms had punched through the tree line and their shadows had been smothered by two divisions of on-marching Brotherhood soldiers, advancing towards their now unopposed occupation of Corone's key naval shipyard. As the upper echelons of soldiery choked the roads into town, the men mounted their respective horses and looked at one another.

"This is it," Shinsou said with a knowing glance at his electromancer and Akashiman brethren,"We hold Tylmerande with these divisions, and cause enough of a stir to get Radasanth to send the whole damned military here. As soon as they find out what has happened here, they won't be able to send the fleet and the army fast enough. That's when we make our move."

There was a moment's silence as a light breeze rustled the leaves of the tree around them, sounding out a staccato patter about the fringes of the forest. The Telgradian closed his eyes for a moment, inhaling first the clean air, and then the secondary smoke from the cherry tobacco that Storm had seen fit to light up.

This was it, the moment of no return.

"From here, I recommend we split up. Take variable paths through the forests and stagger your runs so that you sleep during the day and move at night. The target is the assembly hall in Radasanth."

Shinsou unsheathed his blade, Stygian, and held it flat in his palms, "...and when we get there, this is the tool that will give us the keys to the new administration."

Thread Title: The Fire Rises: Attack on Tylmerande
Type: Basic Rewards

Shinsou Vaan Osiris receives:

800 EXP
55 GP

Storm Veritas receives:

900 EXP
55 GP

Hayate Amatsukami receives:

450 EXP
55 GP

Philomel receives:

800 EXP
55 GP

Rewards to be added soon.

Rewards Added