Vescrutia: Legacy

The B'halian Army base sprawled like a fortress, teeming with frenetic energy and anticipation. Encased within towering, fortified walls, the massive compound buzzed with disciplined chaos as hundreds of thousands of infantry soldiers moved with precision, heeding the commands of their superior officers.

In perfect rows, soldiers clad in sleek, adaptive armor that shimmered under the artificial lights marched in unison. This armor was a marvel of B'halian engineering—lightweight yet impenetrable, capable of withstanding the harshest attacks. Each suit was meticulously tailored to fit the diverse anatomies of the various races within the B'halian Armada, from the towering, muscular J'oro elvs to the agile, wing bearing Avian Cyr.

Their advanced weaponry showcased the technological prowess of the B'halian Empire. Plasma rifles hummed with contained energy, poised to unleash devastating blasts at a moment’s notice. Terrestrial artillery units rolled out, their tracks clanking against the concrete while specialized soldiers meticulously checked their energy shields.

The air thrummed with the sounds of machinery and the murmur of disciplined voices. Transport vehicles, sleek and armored, lined the airstrips. Hovercrafts, designed for rapid deployment across any terrain, were being loaded with supplies and troops. In the distance, the hulking forms of troop carriers and gunships loomed, their engines roaring as they warmed up for the impending deployment. Aircrafts, built for both speed and maneuverability, dotted the sky while more pilots readied for takeoff.

At the heart of this colossal operation stood Delion, one of the leading commanders of the B'halian campaign. His presence commanded respect as he moved through the base, his eyes sharp and focused as they meticulously surveyed every detail—from the number of squadrons and their elite soldiers to the quantity of rations and supplementary artillery. His midnight orbs missed nothing, as expected of anyone wearing his colors.

Delion’s armor, adorned with insignias denoting his rank, exuded a blend of excitement and caution. He palmed the hilt of his sheathed weapon, aware that this mission marked his first time leading an army as its commander—a task bestowed upon him by Akundae, the supreme leader of the B'halian Empire. This was his chance to make a lasting impression and secure a place on the Kingsguard, and he was determined not to squander it.

His orders were clear: advance a battalion to the distant continent of Maderia and initiate the B'halian Acquisition—the empire's bold campaign to imperialize all of Vescrutia. The weight of responsibility bore down on his plated shoulders, but he was ready. His heart raced with a mix of anticipation and nerves as he reviewed the final preparations.

He paused for a moment, taking in the sight of his army—the diverse faces of the B'halian Armada united under a single banner, ready to embark on this monumental mission. They knew the risks and challenges that lay ahead, but the potential for glory and honor propelled them forward. And he was prepared to lead them valiantly.

"Commander Delion," a voice called out, snapping him from his reverie. An officer approached, saluting smartly. "The battalion is ready for deployment, sir."

Delion nodded, his expression resolute."Very well. Inform the Cyr Squadron that they will proceed the caravan and provide necessary reconnaissance. The Dryad have already supplied us with a map of the area and identified ideal avenues of attack; they will use that information to survey the terrain accordingly. Prepare all other pilots to leave on my word.”

As the announcement echoed through the base, a surge of activity followed. Soldiers boarded their assigned vehicles, engines roared to life, and the air buzzed with a sense of purpose. Delion took a deep breath, steadying himself for the journey ahead. He prepared to board the airship known as the Crimson Cloud behind a tally of armored soldiers but paused on the boarding bridge, scanning the multitude of faces for Kilik. He was uncertain how her meeting with Akundae had concluded and didn't want to leave her behind after all the effort he had put into bringing her here. However, if the Emperor deemed her involvement non-vital, then she was probably already dead.

"..."

Delion's gaze lingered at the towering shadow of the Palace in the distance. He would wait for a few minutes longer, but no more.

He prepared to board the airship known as the Crimson Cloud behind a tally of armored soldiers but paused on the boarding bridge, scanning the multitude of faces for Kilik. He was uncertain how her meeting with Akundae had concluded and didn't want to leave her behind after all the effort he had put into bringing her here. However, if the Emperor deemed her involvement non-vital, then she was probably already dead.

He would not be left waiting long. After her parlay with the emperor, Kilik took a little time to think about this massive task before she was outfitted for deployment. She had taken the time to read the mission outline, and the subjugation of the Nissago was surely on the list, though the smallest piece of her wished it hadn't been. Though she had grown quite fond of the land of B'halia, particularly the lush and vibrant aquatic ecosystem, she was still viewed as an outsider, which came with its own cons. Despite its radiant beauty, it was a land that went against almost everything the Nissago believed in, precisely their ideology on unnecessary violence and conflict. She had been mulling over what she would say; would they even listen to her? She didn't leave them with the best track record and her last words to her father...they were meant to sting...but she feared they stabbed instead. What would happen if they refused? Was her mission more important than her family?

"Commander"

Of course, it was. There was nothing to guess second, nothing to fret over. The hundreds of scenarios she ran over meant nothing in the face of the truth. Regardless of who the truth may be, she held faith that whatever came from her mouth when she saw them again would be honest, blunt, and reach them.

"Kilik reporting for duty, sir."

Or she would have to show them better than she could tell them. There was one trump card she held, one thing that could compel them to listen to without struggle. Shinjustu may be the key in ways she never thought it could be. Nothing, though, beats a failure but a try. She stood before the towering warlord, her hand poised as she saluted him. For the nearly a year she had spent under his command, Kilik had come to foster a bit of respect for Delion. Leader of the Jo'ro who has an avid vendetta against women, yet he spoke so highly of her ability. Perhaps his narrow-minded views had begun to open some, if ever so slightly. Her armor had been meticulously crafted, outfitting her body for the gods. It felt like she was wearing a second skin, yet when she tested its capabilities, she found it highly resistant to piercing and blunt damage. The way the microfibers covered her scales yet retained their flexibility allowed her to use her anthem with little to no complications. Her basic stats, strength, durability, speed, and agility increased significantly. She could feel her very nervous system tingling with its micro invigorations. A unique armor set that used quasi-translucent technology that could be activated to enhance reflected light, making her armor almost invisible to the naked eye. A similar effect to how her anthem functioned, its purpose was to strengthen the range of her light/energy shaping prowess. She looked like a fully-fledged B'halian war maiden yet retained her natural elegance as a daughter of the sea. When dormant, notes of crimson and black, almost runic-looking technological etchings outlined the armor.

Her gaze lingered to her side; so many others were here, many faces new and old. And while none of them she would call a friend. She had come to appreciate their presence. Now, on the dawn of war, she would look at him affirmatively as her gaze met Qalen's before shooting him the softest casual wink. She acknowledged his strength, but more so than his resiliency and tenaciousness. From the first day they met, their wills collided, but each time they met, whether on the battlefield or the training to master their Shinjustu, she found they grew together, pushing each other to greater heights. However, his neck would meet her blade when he let his guard down. She smirked, knowing the sentiment was the same. Yes, that was what she had to hold onto; perhaps that was from where she would speak. Of what B'halia was beginning to represent to her. The symbol It could become...that it must become. Ready to give what she must to make it so.

Delion acknowledged Kilik's presence with a resolute nod, a silent testament to the gravity of their mission. The atmosphere was charged with the deafening roar of Crimson Cloud’s thrusters, a cacophony that reverberated through the very fabric of the realm. The colossal warship, a marvel of B'halian engineering and destruction, prepared to breach the silence with its ignition. Words were drowned beneath the mechanical symphony, leaving that nod as their sole exchange.

Without hesitation, Delion turned and strode aboard the ship, each step resonating with purpose. He fully expected Kilik to follow him, their silent pact unbroken. The time had come. The B'halian Acquisition of Vescrutia was imminent, a monumental campaign that would reshape the course of history. At the helm, Delion felt the weight of destiny upon his shoulders. The first tremors of invasion were his to command, and the fate of worlds hung in the balance.

---

Delion stood on the command deck, a perfect blend of functionality and elegance. Vast, transparent panels encased the front of the deck, providing an unobstructed panoramic view of the horizon. The deck itself was an array of advanced consoles and holographic displays, each manned by highly skilled officers. Information streamed continuously, a dance of light and data that kept the crew informed of every detail.

Delion's eyes fixed on the expanse before him. He raised his hand, and whispered into a mic on his wrist. Giving the signal.

Crimson Cloud's thrusters flared with an incandescent blaze, lifting the behemoth into the heavens. The ship ascended with a controlled ferocity, its ascent shaking the very skies and casting a shadow over the homeland below.

Surrounding the mighty warship, a fleet of smaller aircrafts took to the skies, their sleek forms darting through the air like predatory birds. They maintained a tight formation around Crimson Cloud, their pilots executing precise maneuvers with unerring skill. These vessels, though diminutive in comparison to the warship, were crucial for the success of their mission, providing support and ensuring the fleet's integrity. They were operated by the same Dwarven hands that forged them, as they became artisans with any tool they created.

Leading the vanguard was the elite squadron of Elves known as the Cyr. These avian warriors, with their humanoid bodies and powerful wings, soared ahead of the fleet. Their feathers glistened in the light, and their sharp eyes scanned the horizon for any signs of opposition. The Cyr were renowned for their prowess in aerial reconnaissance, their speed and agility unmatched in the skies. They flew with an almost ethereal grace, a testament to their avian heritage.

As they advanced, Delion's gaze shifted to the vast distance– visualizing their targets in the grand scheme of conquest. Muu, Maderia, and Edo.. Each of these separate realms were to be attacked simultaneously, and with more than a hundred thousand soldiers at his disposal, Delion was sifting with excitement. The Cyr would be the eyes and ears of the invasion force, scouting the terrain and identifying key targets. The anticipation was palpable, the air thick with the promise of impending conflict.

"All systems are green, Commander." reported one of the J'oro officers tending to a panel of holographic screens. "The Cyr are reporting clear skies ahead. ETA four hours before contact with Muu. Three hours for Maderia.”

"Good.." Delion replied, his voice steady and commanding. "Maintain formation. We’re going to anchor Crimson Cloud above the Freshwater Sea.. from there we will have both of them within our reach.”

The fleet surged forward, a harbinger of the storm to come. Delion then turned to Kilik, whom he imagined would have followed him to the command deck. “And you've readied yourself, yes?” He asked coyly. “No nerves I hope about confronting your tribe?”

As she followed behind Delion, Kilik could not help but gawk in awe. Never had she seen such a massive fleet, and this was still a fraction of B'halia's overall might. Maderia could not hope to muster a force to gain it, but she knew the spirit of the land and its people were strong. They would certainly put up a fight. If only they could see this land, this order as she did. The liberal chaos that founded Neovia was a shifting foundation fated to crumble as so many nations before it had. The leadership did nothing to quell the oppression of the elvs, and after eons of her people suffering under the gale of poachers and hateful regimes, it was time to take a stand.

Warships and their respective squadrons were legions, painting the sky in a veil of crimson that would no doubt rattle the denizens in terror. But she truly believed B'halia's invasion was merely the storm before the calm, and those who survived were fated to ascend to a higher calling. Such was her mindset, the anchor she needed to keep going.

The fleet surged forward, a harbinger of the storm to come. Delion then turned to Kilik, whom he imagined would have followed him to the command deck. “And you've readied yourself, yes?” He asked coyly. “No nerves, I hope, about confronting your tribe?”

Her eyes did not meet his but stayed firm on the fleet's charge forward, the Cyr majestically cutting through the skies like soaring winged blades. Her heartbeat quickened, and she placed her hand soundly on her chest as she stared intently beyond.

"We Nissago live only for 50 years like a solemn wave that vanishes once it reaches the shore. When we die, our scales are added to the coral groves. Our greatest pride is also a constant reminder of our fate, a graveyard painted to be a mural of accomplishment...it's folly to me. I have watched so many return to the great ocean of souls and have always wondered what we could become and what our world would be like if we had even a little more time. It was partly because I feared I would become my family's biggest threat when I left. But the larger truth...is that I could not bear to stay and watch the lives of my people flicker away, knowing that I would see the rise and falls of endless suns and moons..."

"If I'm being honest, I'm a bundle of nerves. The Nissago are a stubborn people; for centuries, they have claimed the groves and protected them earnestly. They won't take kindly to a fleet of airborne ships landing on their sacred space."

She closed her eyes, a myriad of scarecrows flashing before her. She could not afford the pressure of her task to crack her. She needed to be resolute in her duty and see what she saw.

"B'halias is a tempest of destruction capable of turning the world upside down, completely uprooting the many eons of culture a people have spent their lifetimes cultivating. But...the Cyr maintain their pride in the skies, and the Dyrads are still connected and valued for their place in nature. The Empire does not take without also giving thrice as much. Take the strength of a people and magnify them with fathoms. "

She finally turned to Delion, her cherry-pink gaze locked solidly on his.

"But though they are stubborn, they are bound by their beliefs and loyalty to not me...But the power within me. Should Orvyn decree this is the best course of action...they will oblige. They worship her...though they may loath me"

"B'halias is a tempest of destruction capable of turning the world upside down, completely uprooting the many eons of culture a people have spent their lifetimes cultivating. But...the Cyr maintain their pride in the skies, and the Dyrads are still connected and valued for their place in nature. The Empire does not take without also giving thrice as much. Take the strength of a people and magnify them with fathoms. "

She finally turned to Delion, her cherry-pink gaze locked solidly on his.

"But though they are stubborn, they are bound by their beliefs and loyalty to not me...But the power within me. Should Orvyn decree this is the best course of action...they will oblige. They worship her...though they may loath me.”

Delion let out a dry chuckle as he turned his gaze toward the vast expanse beyond the warship’s windows, his attention captured by the ever-changing horizon. The sky was a canvas of shifting colors, the distant lands of Vescrutia slowly coming into view. "Let us hope.." he began, his voice laced with a subtle mix of sarcasm and contemplation, "..that their reverence for this Oryvn surpasses whatever deep-seated hatred you’ve managed to instill among them."

His eyes narrowed as he spoke, the weight of his words hanging in the air. "Kilik.. it might be possible that you truly grasp the essence of what our Emperor seeks to bestow upon this world. I will grant you the time necessary to sway your people. Understand this—our mission is not to erase or trample upon the heritage of Nissagro. We merely ask them to declare where their loyalties lie. For now, that should suffice."

Delion’s tone was measured, balancing authority with a veneer of respect. He turned away from Kilik, signaling the end of the conversation. "Prepare yourself," he added, his voice carrying an edge of anticipation. "We’ll be crossing over foreign waters within four hours. Once we’ve arrived, we will reassess our objectives and prioritize our targets accordingly."

The room seemed to hum with the gravity of the situation, the silence that followed Delion's words filled only with the distant rumble of the warship’s engines. The horizon loomed closer with every passing moment, the world beneath them on the brink of monumental change.

Oddly enough his words did bring her a grain of comfort. To know that what she had come to understand about her new home was also shared with one born and raised on its land embedded a deep affirmation in her. Perhaps just the nudge of faith she needed to calm her nerves. It was…interesting. Kilik had come to B’halia to become a fearsome warrior capable of taking down one of the most well known entities on vescrutia. A path she was sure to be filled with an arduously strenuous array of ordeals, and it surely had been, but that it would further incase in ice her only purpose to be a blade for the heads of the enemies of the empire. And yet…there was a terrier calm over her…

Shinjustu had opened her vessel to something she couldn’t have dreamt of in her wildest fantasies. A nectar capable of quelling the deranged wyrm within her. Her connection to the planet had evolved her senses to uncanny levels allowing her to receive so many things she never had even given the time of day to consider. The harmonious nexus of all life is not just the seas of her birth but the various strings and tethers spread through the world like ley lines.

It had not changed her objective, merely shown her how short-sighted her blind vengeance was. If the root of her mother’s death were the faulty system Neovia was built upon then merely killing Zero would simply be placing a bandaid on a gaping wound. Another would seek to take his place carrying on his faulty legacy. No, B’halia had shown her that a true leader should focus on the points that make a strong and weed its weaknesses out. To expound and expand upon it, tempering it like steel. Destroying Madeira was not the answer, reforging it under the blaze of Akunde’s ambition, its latent potential could be brought out ten times over. Prosperity for all…those who would bend the knee. As Delion stepped away from her she was left to ponder what Shinjustu meant to him, perhaps after this excursion she would be granted the chance to pick his brain a bit more. For now, she needed to be focused on her task...to clear all else from her mind. Both for her future and the future of her people.

The Crimson Cloud soon reached the Freshwater Sea, hidden within a shroud of roiling clouds. The ship’s exterior, a deep, metallic crimson, bore the scars of countless battles, its surface lined with faint etchings of the B’halian Empire’s emblem. The ship’s angular design and sleek contours spoke of both power and precision, every inch of its massive form designed for war.

The stealth technology embedded within the ship’s hull shimmered like a heat haze, rendering it nearly invisible. Not even the most advanced scanners could detect its presence, and the naten disruptors onboard ensured that any psychic or clairvoyant attempting to sense it would find only a void, a black hole where the ship should be. The Crimson Cloud was a ghost in the sky, watching and waiting.

Within the warship’s command center, Commander Delion stood tall, his piercing gaze fixed on the massive holographic display that dominated the room. The display projected a detailed map of the continents Muu and Madeira, with their key locations illuminated in sharp red tones. The soft hum of the ship’s engines and the rhythmic tapping of his boots against the metal floor created a symphony of military precision.

He exuded an air of calm authority, his very presence commanding the room.

His officers, a select group of seasoned veterans and brilliant tacticians, stood around him, their expressions a mixture of focus and anticipation. The dim lighting in the command center cast shadows across their faces, adding to the tension in the room.

Delion broke the silence, his voice a deep, resonant timbre that carried effortlessly across the space. "We are at the precipice of a great conquest," he began, his ebon eyes sweeping over the gathered officers like a pair of shadows. "Our Zenith has entrusted us with the acquisition of Muu, Madeira, and Edo. Needless to say, failure is not an option."

One of the officers, a fellow J'oro officer with a scar running down the length of his face, stepped forward. "Commander, the Cyr scouts report that the fortifications on Muu are widely undefended. Outside of an enormous enchanted forest, the realm is widely isolated. Factions and provinces separated by a lack of order and structure. They seem the most vulnerable, but should we attack them first, we risk alerting Madeira and losing the element of surprise."

Delion nodded, considering the report. "We have the advantage of positioning," he said, gesturing to the holographic display where the Freshwater Sea was marked as the central point between the two continents. "From here, we can launch simultaneous strikes on both targets. Muu will be our initial focus, but Madeira must be hit within minutes of the first assault. Our stealth capabilities will ensure we remain undetected until it is too late for them to react."

Another officer spoke, "What of Edo, Commander? They are known for their formidable warriors and advanced magic. They will not be easily subdued."

Delion’s gaze hardened, "Edo will be dealt with in due time. For now, we focus on crippling Muu and Madeira. Once they fall, Edo will be isolated and vulnerable. We will crush them under the full weight of the Empire."

The room fell silent as Delion’s words settled over the officers. Each one of them knew the weight of the task before them, but they also knew the power of the warship they commanded. The Crimson Cloud was not just a vessel; it was a symbol of the Empire’s might, a harbinger of doom for any who dared stand against it.

Delion stepped forward, his hand reaching out to the holographic display. With a swift motion, he highlighted the key targets on both continents—fortresses, communication hubs, and leadership compounds. "These are our primary objectives," he said, his voice cold and precise. "Each task force will be assigned a specific target. Our approach will be swift and lethal. There will be no time for resistance."

He turned to face his officers fully, his eyes blazing with determination. "Prepare the soldiers. We move at dawn."

As the officers dispersed, each one moving to relay orders to their respective units, Delion remained by the holographic display, his mind already running through the upcoming assault. He knew the Emperor's expectations, and he would not disappoint– The Crimson Cloud would be the instrument of that victory.

The command center's walls hummed with energy as the ship's systems began preparing for the upcoming battle. Screens flickered to life, displaying streams of data, troop deployments, and tactical readouts. In the lower decks, B’halian infantry were already assembling, their armor gleaming under the harsh lights, their faces set in grim determination. They moved with the precision of a well-oiled machine, each soldier knowing their place and purpose.

Delion watched it all unfold from his vantage point. He allowed himself a small, satisfied smile. Everything was proceeding as planned. The Freshwater Sea below remained calm, unaware of the storm gathering above it. Delion turned from the display and made his way to the observation deck, where he could watch the dawn break over the sea. His heart thumped in rhythm with the warship, each thrum a reminder of the Empire’s strength and his place within it.

As the first light of dawn began to pierce the horizon, the Crimson Cloud stirred, its presence still hidden, but its intent clear. The world below had no idea what was coming for them.

And so it was, the time had finally come. Nearly a year later here she stood gazing over the waves of the Freshwater seas. Her home, even now she could still hear the sounds of the whales singing, the dazzling colors of the octopi, the gorgeous plant life leagues beneath the surface. She felt a sense of nausea in her stomach as the memories of her swimming through the lush groves of her homeland flowed into her mind like a gentle stream. She didn't imagine she'd miss it so much, these seas have been the source of so much pain for her, futures she just wasn't ready to deal with, ones she'd rather flee from. But here and now, in this very moment, homesickness was but a secondary emotion. The main thing she saw when she gazed upon the vibrant domain of her origin was a purpose. A canvas of possibility, and it was time the first stroke of the brush came.

"Squad Leader, we are close to the target destination."

A young man of the Vox Mariner race came from behind her. He stood about 6'3 dwarfing Kilik in stature. He was there the day Kilik faced the Salamanders as well as the day she unleashed her tidal wave and had grown to respect her ability. He asked to be a part of her vanguard much to her surprise. Though people had begun to warm up to her many still voiced echoes of discontent, the fact that a foreigner would be in her position still rubbed them the wrong way. However, others did not see her in such a negative light, others had begun to speak of her exploits and potential in more affirming ways. She did not allow any of their views to sway her mindset. She knew people's perceptions were based on how they currently feel about you and if you let yourself be shaped by the thoughts and expectations of others...well, you're more of a puppet than person. Still, it was nice, not to be hated by everyone. Kilik's eyes were still set on the view of the seas.

"Anything we should know before we engage?"

Kilik heard his question but did not respond. Not initially. She was in the company of a total of 10 soldiers. One of them was Hethra. A sylvan dryad who is infatuated with the ocean. She was the one who healed Kilik after the wounds she sustained after battles. If there was anyone close to being seen as a "friend" to Kilik it was her. They had all been outfitted for the voyage, the Vox least so as they naturally thrive underwater. Hethra however had the means to breathe underwater and move about assisted swimming technology. It would be good to have some kind of healer...if things didn't go as she hoped.

"Ma'am?"

Her eyes sharply slide over to the caddet. She casually looked him up and down, in the brief time their eyes met she could infer several things about him. But the main thing was, he was far too relaxed around her. That needed to be corrected...immediately.

"Name and rank...soldier"

Her words though soft were firm, firm enough to send a chill of realization through his spine. Understanding from that statement alone the error of his ways. Still, an example must be made. He stood at attention, his left hand saluting his superior officer.

"Yes Ma'am! I am Zora Demiurge, Cadet."

"And to whose platoon do you belong?"

"I am a proud member of Special Platoon 5; Under the shining lead of Squad Leader Killk Nissagro."

Her pricing gaze relaxed as her eyes and attention returned to the glass. She held her hands curiously behind her back.

"You may be seated, cadet."

"R-Right away ma'am"

With a deep sigh, he joined the others. Such disrespect technically would've warranted his immediate removal from the mission according to proper protocol. Failure to sprach a ranked officer with the correct respect was no small offense. She knew he knew that, that they all did. Perhaps it was her young age or even her stoic demeanor that had them forget themselves. The reason, to her, was irrelevant. The tone needed to be set, whatever their qualms about them were, the fact remained.

She was in charge

"I am sure many of you share concerns. I am a person born in a different land than you all. There may even be some of you who trained your entire lives for this very moment. Those who might find me undeserving of my current rank. To those folks I say. Tough. Shit."

She could feel the stares spurring holes in the back of her head. Inconsequential.

"I came to Bh'alia for the same reason you chose to stay. Because I see the prospect in the Emperor's vision. A world that thrives, where the mighty survive. Aside from this, though I may be a child born from seas that differ from the ones you herald..."

She turned to them their expression carried from intrigued, annoyed, furious, nonchalant, and moved.

"I am a daughter of the seas still. My people, like yours, treasure the sanctity of our seas beyond anything else. The Emerald groves are both our sacred task and our graveyard. We spend our entire short fleeting lives shepherding the sentient life of the seas maintaining the balance of its life. Our work creates homes, provides food, we...they, take great pride in their place upon the mother."

Her eyes are resolute.

"I did not come to B'halia to be the teacher's pet, nor best friends with anyone. Whatever your prejudices are, they are your burden to bear. If you feel raw about your placement, then your right as B'halian is to face me in combat and cut me down. Until then, I expect complete and total compliance. There will be no other warnings."


"I came because my people, who have suffered through the ages, being hunted, persecuted, and disrespected deserve to be something more, desire...much more. I chose the Vox because you know the light of the seas as I do. I wish to see the greatness of my people magnified... you become that mirror. B'halia is that more, each one of you here, is to be an example to my family, the grandeur and decorum that awaits them as members of the greatest nation on the face of the mother...in this moment I will ask you all..."

She placed her hand on her blade.

"Who is it you want to be? And what is it you will give to see you become the you of your dreams...when we make it back from this I'll ask you for those answers. For now, my only advice is to mind your manners. Though you are sea elvs you are seen as outsiders...they will not attack, not outright, but do not expect hospitality."

Kilik's words stirred the hearts of the platoon. Though some remained somewhat abstinent more than half of them nodded in approval and recognition of her words. Indeed they once knew persecution and through the greatness of the empire have been freed from that. How could they not aid in bringing others seaborn into their fold? Kilik saluted her platoon seeing a more unifed air about them. It was odd, she never imagined herself a leader and here she was, with the lives and hopes of 10 others under her command. This small scale, for the Emperor to shoulder this weight a billionfold, her admiration grew. As they got closer to dawn her resolve tightened. There was nothing else to say, it was time to move soon...

"Platoon Leader of Squad 5 Kilik requesting pick up."

She said as they made it to the pickup spot. Kilik flicked her wrist, causing the waves to rise under them, becoming a crystal pillar that lifted them above sea level. So it was true; her magic had evolved. To what end remained to be seen. She could feel inconsistencies in the pillar's constitution. She was winded by the immense strain of invoking a Severed Authority in the fight against her father. But it was a worthy sacrifice, for in return, her mission was a success, and the nissagro of the groves would follow B'halia into the new world. With her mind now clear of that, she could focus on her true mission and the first phase of the arc that would mark the beginning of what she knew would be a long path of blood-stained retribution. Now was the time to still her bleeding heart; her people were the only ones she could afford to lower her guard to. In the battle to come, she had to be content with the corpses soon to lay at her feet.

"Rodger, that"

A voice spoke into her com piece as a fleet ship seemingly mattered from nowhere; it was merely the disabling of its cloaking technology. B'halia military units continuously impressed her; she wondered what the human alienates could stand against it. It would surely be special for the ages, and she would be front and center as the world caved in. The ship lowered before extending a conversely that the squad stepped on, guiding them back safely into the ship.

" Job well done, everyone; your assistance in this matter was most... appreciated. But..."

The soldiers stationed at the hanger's door treated them. She and the rest of her squad saluted, respectively, before making their way to the common area.

"The next welcome we receive will not be as warm as the one we just received. Temper your hearts...sever your emotions. Because we are about to take the lives of people defending their homes....release your arrogance."

She said as she held her rib cage.

"An animal is most dangerous when corned and protecting its loved ones."

Her words rang heavy in their minds. However, they were not like Kilik.

"Heh, what am I saying? You've trained your entire lives for this moment. Walking hand in hand towards this very moment. Forgive my impudence; I am proud to walk beside you as a fellow B'halian."

They soluted in uniform.

"Ma'am, if I may?"

She nodded in approval: Kegan, a Jo'ro who had been silent until now, had spoken for the first time since being brought to her squad. The idea of being under a woman, and a foreign one at that, caused a bit of friction between him and the higher-ups. She wondered what could've possibly moved him to speak now.

"You...fought...well, no...admirably."

Kilik gaze did not leave him, he towred over here his leer stone faced with out the slight inflection of mention.

"It is one thing to possess the power to destroy, but it is mastery to watch one as you wield such strength and continuously hone it. Though mercy is for the weak, a true leader knows when to strike...I."

His gaze softened for just a moment, a flicker of humility

"I wish to see how far you will go. But I won't fall behind. That is all."

He returned to the rest of them, where she found them all nodding in agreement as if he shared their thoughts. Kilik reflected briefly on this feeling, this weight. Was this the weight of leadership? Having so many eyes watching you, is this similar to what Akundae felt? Who could fathom what the employer held on his shoulders, holding the hopes and dreams of this entire nation? No, the very world itself?

"At ease, everyone. Go take care of yourselves. I demand you be in peak condition for the fray ahead."

Together: Ma'am!

"Hethra, you will follow me to the med bay; I need to recover my lost strength quickly."

"Of course."

She gave them a sign signaling their dismissal.

The first light of dawn cast an iridescent glow across the deck of the Crimson Cloud, blending with the silent hum of its cloaking engines as it drifted high above the Freshwater Sea. The enormous warship hung like a phantom, its blood-red armor blending with the morning sky like an ominous shadow waiting to descend on the unsuspecting.

Below deck, Commander Delion moved with purpose through the ranks of Bhalian soldiers. His gaze was sharp, assessing each warrior with the scrutiny of a veteran. He waited his whole life for this moment– he'd been warrior the day he was born, but never a leader. Never the commander. Clad in his battle-worn armor, he exuded an aura of calm authority as he spoke, rallying his soldiers with the quiet confidence of a man who had seen countless wars. And was excited for the next one. Rows of soldiers stood at attention, their expressions grim and focused, awaiting his orders.

“Today,” Delion's voice rang out, firm and resolute, “we set foot upon the lands of Muu. A human kingdom lies before us, petulant bugs who threaten to blight our Emporer's vision. You are the vanguard, the shield and spear of the Bhalian Empire. Our strength is unmatched; our cause is absolute. And we will show them why Bhalia is not to be defied.”

He moved through the lines, meeting the eyes of his soldiers, one by one. “The Cyr and the Dryad have already run recon on the layout of the environment. Though this realm of Helidor seems feeble, they are protected by a guild of warriors located north within the mountains of the realm. We will strike them swiftly, and without mercy. Each of you carries a piece of this empire’s honor, a trust from our Zenith himself. Remember that as you descend into the fray.”

A murmur of affirmation rippled through the ranks as soldiers raised their weapons in a silent salute. Delion nodded, satisfied, before dismissing them to ready themselves. Turning, he ascended to the command level, his eyes scanning the rows of soldiers, engines, and artillery ready for deployment.

Delion made his way to the far side of the deck, where Kilik had been seen by passing soldiers following her recent venture..

“First Command,” Delion called as he approached, his voice cutting through the quiet. “I trust that Is everything settled?” he asked, unsure if she was here or located at a different wing of the warship.