Dark Crow Rising

"Mmm, they have moved them." I let out, walking over the now quiet battlefield. I have been wanting to look closer at what remained of that strange formation of troops from a few days ago. Though I have been occupied with some menial tasks at the city's other walls. But uncharacteristically, the men of the city have moved the bodies out of the way so soon after the affair. So that Waionr may return them to clay himself is why the corpses tend to be left alone.

The haste of everything sticks out and I can't get my mind off of it. So, holding the pommel of my sword as its edge wiggles against the dirt, I bounce noises around my mouth. Stripped, cloth-covered dead loom high at the edges of the valley. Not a carrion or opportunistic rodent in sight or ear. Nothing is running off with a still magic-holding morsel.

Yet, that which should be blatant is not.

This makes sense somewhat. No one looks fondly upon the handling of the heretical dead. Sorting them out is a lethargic process, even on the tightest of schedules. Still, why can't I find a trace of their uniforms or polished steel anywhere? Quality aside, those men were once heretics! It makes no sense for them to be cleaned of anything useful now.

Clearly, something is being planned. A focused effort had cleaned this land up, though, despite my position as the city's resident Valkinvar, I was not privy to it. Tidied and repaired roads as well. There are plans to move beyond the city, it must be that.

"The Zaphadren-Valkinvar?" I ask myself, as this is surely her doing. With unexpected arrivals comes much the same in changes. Sheathing my sword, I head back. Going up into the air, I gently fly over the city wall and notice something that must've been peculiar to most of the people here. It stands out, a lot. Someone has ordered that an army is to amass before the mouth of the wall and its tonguing road.

Wh-When...?

It's a sizeable force that coils slightly through the high-rising military district and as far down as the streets below it. This is not even an assembly of the resident guard regiments and local valley-rider chapters of Giant's Victory. I cannot see any regiments from the cities and towns from deeper within the immediate country, either. The force here is exclusively made up of the tricorn-wearing, mail-coated ironcoats.

The army of Waionr's Chosen Theocracy is here... -The- army.

My superior is at the top of the wall, right above the prepared troops. I have a lot to ask her. But would it be rude to just fly on into whatever speech she is giving or conversations she's having? It is probably best not to tempt her ire, so I land away from them and rush up. Reaching the last step up the wall, it all becomes clearer as I look around.

Thankfully, it seems to be quiet, "Zaphadren-Valkinvar Gemorli, what's going on?"

"So you decided to come to us instead. Well, it's a minor change," she remarks to herself as she and someone else walk over. Whoever this man is, he isn't Valkinvar. His uniform gives me all the insight I need to know. He's an officer from the Theocracy's logistical branch. And if they are here, that only sets our future in stone more so.

"There's an army, Zaphadren-Valkinvar Gemorli," I say quickly as my confusion gets the best of me. Realising too late what I have just said, my cheeks burn. I am glad that she cannot see my expression under this helmet. This cycle is a good one to be thankful that I am properly equipped. I will be equally, maybe more so, thankful to forget these just spoken words...

"I am aware this is an unusual sight in this part of the Theocracy. But we will be conducting an attack to push the enemy from our country's borders." she clarifies as she joins me in looking at the lines of well-dressed soldiers. The light of the Orbital-Halo shimmers across the millions of rivets like the magic-rich winds of our homeland.

"Why? The orders I came here with were to hold the city and nothing else. No meaningful lost territory exists beyond these walls. Only the empty space we patrolled for merchants, pilgrims and travellers once upon a time. The guns see all local strategic points or they're behind the walls." I clarify more so for my sake, as I am struggling to grasp why we are now doing this.

"It is because they know we have no interest in counter-attacking through the passes this city holds that it will work, Valkinvar-Imdvarce Vapooliar. Further north, however, there are places we need to reclaim. This city presents a prime opportunity for us to follow the southern, northward-going curve of the border to envelop the enemy from behind. We will reclaim our territory with little damage to it and wipe out the heretics easily." she explains as the man presents a map for our but mostly my reference.

Placing my finger on the semi-circle-ish, southern half of the country, I trace the path she described. Marked lost areas and the path she more precisely wants to take. Isolated, but held Valkinvar monasteries give us several routes we can safely go along if wanted. I can see what she is getting at and by using Ironcoats, there is no manpower shortage-induced risk to Giant's Victory!

Yet, even then, I'd be dead from laughter if we couldn't hold this city against such incompetent attacks with only a lone group at the guns.

Taking the map into hand, I adjust the view the enchanted parchment gives with my fingers and notice something, "Then, the enemy will be met out there... Here, to stall them and we'll come around?"

"Yes," she answers as she guides an index of her own across our path for the first predicted obstacle.

"From there we then assist the fortresses and cities along the rest of the border..." I repeat to myself as I zoom the view out so I can inspect the highlighted areas. Fortresses of all kinds hold their ground, but lost towns and cities have given the enemy many safe staging areas. The already sustained damage means little. Even a pile of bricks can stagger an advance on foot.

Within debris are many chances to hide mines and spikes. Explosive charges tied to tight wires so carefully set ahead of a defensive line. Supports that have been weakened. Carefully rehearsed paths, the dangers of which are blind to the rage of an attacker. A massacre waiting to happen.

"Yes, but, as you seem to grasp it easily, I'll leave him to go into further deliberation for you. Both now and when you set out," she explains as she turns and walks away.

"I am not joining your force?" I question as she reaches the edge of the wall. Wouldn't it make more sense for a Valkinvar of the Thrusting Advance to be a part of the hammer? I suppose it is my fault for letting my hopes rise even in the slightest. A mere Valkinvar-Imdvarce serving alongside the Zaphadren-Valkinvar in battle...

I'm already pushing it by even being able to talk to her right now!

"No, you will be serving as the steward of Grand-Thoucomm Pathort's force," she answers as her power marks her ascent into the air. Frowning, I realise that I am not even trusted to lead the army. However, I suppose I can look past such a thing. Her choice of a commander is one I recognise from reputation alone.

He's had his fingers in managing this city's defence and a handful of others, along with any relevant fortresses and outposts. Perhaps this is why he is coming? As I previously thought up, he will be familiar with how ruins can be exploited. Though I have to admit, this is my first time seeing the aged commander in person. Maybe it is because our battles here are rather tame compared to the rest of the battles and sieges in the South. Or maybe he is just an officer who is at his best amidst all the bureaucratic elements of warfare.

I've known a few like that.

Either way, his defensive expertise sticks out to me. I cannot complain about his appointment as the head of the anvil to the immediate parts of this plan. My struggle is understanding why I am being treated like a loose nail rattling atop it in this whole affair. I might only be overthinking it. Maybe my disappointment at not being able to serve Zaphadren-Valkinvar Gemorli is blinding me...

I am probably just being placed there to do as I do here in Giant's Victory. My role is to intercept and counter the witches of the heretics, after all. But to do it under her instead would be so much grander. I can truly earn my place at Waionr's side should the worst come to pass!

"Valkinvar," the logistics officer says as he tugs at the map, "Valkinvar-Imdvarce Vapooliar, would you like me to start going over it now?" he asks as I watch my superior start her departure.

"Fine, go over it for me." I sigh as I lose sight of her regality.

"For starters, then. We will be leaving imminently, Valkinvar-Imdvarce Vapooliar. Once Zaphadren-Valkinvar Gemorli finishes her departure with her portion of the army," he explains as Grand-Thoucomm Pathort and his staff make their way down the wall. An extensive following of aides and glorified luggage holders.

"Explain on the way, rather," I tell the logistics officer as I step out into the air to search for a carriage that can accommodate us. Finding one, I go back to the ground and stop its driver from moving the transport.

The carriage is a modest four-wheeler with a single, typically stone coloured and bark-textured ryphurgok hooked up to it. Keeping one hand near its throat, I prevent its four-piece, beak-like jaw from pecking at me. Like this, it is a little hard to believe that these things became renowned as the greatest mount for a heavy lancer. But rough hide and four powerfully built legs make for a potent combination when mixed with thick steel plating.

"Are you hungry?" I ask it as I force a loose pebble into the air with my aura. Catching it with my fingers, I hold it before its focused gaze. Putting the small piece of rock into its mouth as it opens up slightly like an 'x.'