“There is an old saying among a particularly fierce and old enemy of my people. One we study and learn from even today. It goes something like this. Men, and animals are weak. Crops can burn, and cities can be reduced to rubble, breaking the spirits of a nation and people. But artillery? Well gentlemen, big guns never tire.”

John hit the button on his watch that signaled the six artillery stations, and each of the platforms unleashed one of their smaller weapons of death.

Explosions rocked the world as fire, smoke, and a heat wave followed each of the six shells that decimated the now empty area around the portal. The three high leveled people turned in sudden shock and astonishment towards the blasts. When the world settled, and the dust finished raining from the sky they turned back towards him. Fear in their eyes, even if it was kept from their expressions.

“You dare breach a parley?! You and your people have no honor!” Shouted Mo’grain.

“If you wait just a moment, your scouts will confirm that none of your people have died. We attacked an empty square behind your forces. As a demonstration.”

“A demonstration of what? Any being with even a modicum of understanding of physics can plant bombs.” The robed spellcaster said. It was the first time she had spoken, but her anger and outrage were clear.

“A demonstration of what you are up against. You have absolutely no idea the level of devastation your people are walking into. Those? Those were small artillery pieces. Shot from over those ‘mountains.’” John pointed towards the wall segment to his rear. “Your lines are devastated, your men demoralized, and while you three and maybe some of your other leadership might, might be able to survive a direct assault? You won’t take even a single wall segment. And your dragons? The fire breathing, death dealing, flying lizards? They’re dead. As will your men, your supply chain, your artillery pieces, everything. If you don’t start talking peace with me? About thirty seconds after I walk away, hell will rain down and every one of you will be dead. The second I get my Blackhawks back, the one dragon that got away is going to be hunted down, and slaughtered. Can’t leave something that size running around terrorizing people, now can I?”

The woman looked outraged. Mo’grain seemed terrified, and the expression on the Emperitor was calculatedly neutral. It seems we are finally being taken seriously by this guy. “However, all of that can be avoided. Surrender, and we can talk proper terms.”

“The right of challenge,” Mo’grain said, turning to his boss. “My lord, please call a challenge. That is the only way we will be successful in our task.”

The Emperitor looked like someone had just slapped him. “Do not presume to tell me the best course of action!”

Mo’grain bowed, going to one knee and lowering his head. “Please forgive my impotence. I meant no offense my lord. Only to do my duty and offer the best advice I can.” That seemed to take some of the sails out of the arrogant Emperitor, but his rage was still clear.

“My lord brother.” The woman said, stepping closer to the golden armored man. “You are of course the leader of these armies. No one seeks to take that from you. Only advise you. Please allow us?” The Emperitor growled a deep frustrated sound, before nodding. “A right of challenge in the old sense. Three duals.” She looked back at John then, as if explaining it to both of them. “One of magic, one of flesh, and another of leadership. The way our great, great grandfather took his first throne.”

“Fine then. There is honor in such a thing. I declare a Challenge! What say you Governor-General John McCintire of the US Fort?”