Even before the sun had set, the anxiety of those on both sides of the wall had taken to the skies. The air had become colder than the nadir of the winter, despite the lack of frost in the last few days. On one side, the professional regulars of the Justitian army were awaiting an assault on the walls. The city’s volunteers were with them; their worst fear was on the verge of being woven into reality. On the other, the men and beasts of the Homefront knew they were storming into a long, arduous struggle.

The sun crossed the horizon, and its breath disappeared from the world. It was now that all dragons were to take to the skies, and set the walls of Westedge ablaze. So rang Lothar’s orders. In this last hour, the golden dragon ran a final inspection of his troops by his lonesome. As longing for battle as they were, he couldn’t help but shake his head.

I am looking at dead men and women walking. If what those magical engineers have spoken of those cloudbusters is even remotely true, much blood will be spilt when darkness strikes. Lothar paused to hiss, shaking it off as a sneeze. Divinity condemn these imperials to the lowest reaches of the abyss!

The armor attached to his scaly hide shook noisily. Lothar’s odd-looking sneeze had caught the eyes of one of his commanders, who also had been decked out from top to tail in armor. Said commander was now waving away to a road leading away from the village, and away from Whitestream. Lothar put down his self-appointed duties for a while, and followed the Blue dragon out of the village, into the ever darkening forest.

“My lord, are you ready?” asked Raghes. He seemed like a completely different dragon thanks to his breastplate and helmet. Lothar couldn’t see his horns very well.

“I am quite prepared,” Lothar replied. “How fares you, Raghes?”

The blue dragon grinned. “Never felt better. Wearing this armor feels fantastic, even if it is a little itchy at times. I’ve never felt more like a true warrior of Divinity.”

Lothar gave the blue dragon a sly smile in reply. “That is great to hear, my friend.”

“It feels so surreal. This was how the great Reval was armoured when he slaughtered the remnants of the demon armies! And now, I am wearing similar armour... ” Raghes clutched at his chest. “Oh, this is beyond even my wildest dreams...”

“Save your excitement for the enemy, Raghes,” Lothar said.

“Of course!” Raghes shouted. “That’s precisely what I live for. That’s what we all live for, isn’t it? To fight for the Hallowed One against the forces which oppose him, to unite all the people within our lands to His banner. And if we must die to make it so, then so be it. Our lives are worth sacrificing to such a cause.”

Lothar nodded. “Indeed. A fine place in the hereafter awaits us all, Raghes. One day, even I will sleep there. But I must admit, it is a little queasy for me to think about now, whilst I still have not raised my son as a worthy successor yet.”

“Oh, that’s right. Your son. That reminds me, is he going to be among us in the battle?”

“Yes, he will be. For Divinity, any man would give his only begotten son. And I am not one who does not practice what he preaches. Even if it results in his demise, it is crucial for him to be baptized in fire. One day he will have to take my place, and he must be prepared.”

Raghes looked away into an alley bordering the edge of the town, where children were playing a game. They were as oblivious as could be, given what was taking place all around them. Then, he sighed. “I’ve done my best to prepare him for what lies ahead. I just hope it’s enough.”

Lothar laid a claw on the blue dragon’s shoulder. “That I can guarantee you, my friend. Even if one of us does not make it, I trust that the other can make something of that boy.”

The blue dragon regrew his smile. “That’s very kind of you.”

“Now then.” The two dragons began to walk away from their quiet place, returning to the village where all the others waited for the clock to strike right. “Night will soon be upon us. Do we have any final preparations to make, Raghes?”

Raghes shook his head. “None that I know of,” he said. “All we can do is put our full trust in our troops to stick to the plan. If all goes right, we will have set the walls of Whitestream ablaze, and then it’s only a matter of clearing the streets. I just hope those musket cannons will not result in catastrophe.”

The golden dragon grunted. “We’ll see. There is not much we can do to change whatever will happen in a few hours now. All of us must weather the storm.”

* * *

I’ll be fine, I’ll be fine, I’ll be fine, I’ll be fine, I’ll be fine…

Darkness had fallen upon the world. From the Origin Mountains to the Barrier Lakes, Lokahn had once again fallen aslumber. Alas, the poems and tales of peaceful nights and an easy rest were nothing but a fever dream on this night.

Victor stood alongside a few other dragons in formation, awaiting the final call. His breathing was rough; his tail whipped back and forth. The armour he had been shoved into stuck to his skin with all the grace of a broken window. Ahead, foreign shouting filled the night air. One of the men he’d have to fight in the nearby future, most likely. No one had a favorable chance here. Deep down, they all knew it.

“I’ll be fine, I’ll be fine, I’ll be fine, I’ll be fine, I’ll be fine...”

“Quiet, you. You’re not making this any easier on the rest of us, you egotistical piglet.”

“I’m trying my best here, okay?”

The dragon spat at his own feet. “Lord Lothar must be ashamed to have such a weakling of a son...” he muttered audible enough for Victor to hear it. Victor felt his cheek muscles tense up.

“Say that again?”

“You’re a coward.”

“You son of a... that was uncalled for!”

“What was? Me telling the truth? Well let me say it out loud then: You’re an embarrassment to the blood. You’re a coward who is afraid of a little blood. I’m surprised Lord Lothar had you as his son. What a shame that must be. I’d have torn your soft little throat out a long time ago, weakling- OW!”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t catch that. Mind saying it again?”

The dragon in black held a claw over his chest, and eyed the lavender dragoness with a severe lack of bravery. The dragoness paced around him, maintaining a sneer.

“Yeah. That’s what I thought. The next time you want to start harassing him, you can say it to my face. Is that clear?”

“What do you have to do with this?” the black dragon weakly retorted.

“Oh, that’s only my best friend you’re harassing. And I don’t take too kindly to goons such as you, either. Anyway, cut it out. We have a battle on our hands, here.”

The unruly dragon grumbled for a while longer, before finally settling down. For indeed, a battle was at hand, and he had to be as prepared as all the others were. The moment the trumpet’s call echoed across the land was the same moment they had to take to the skies, and may Divinity have mercy upon the souls of those who hesitate even slightly. Victor remembered the hesitation of his own as well, and he certainly hadn’t forgotten the misery that had come afterwards. This time would be different. He felt a fire burn in the pit of his stomach. This time there was no backing down, no matter what.

Then, a low hum sounded amidst distant nighttime screeching. The hum rose to an otherworldly droning sound: It was as if the world’s largest insect buzzed by. And, once the echoes had found their way into their ears, Victor and all the others took off with a heave, and flew up above the treetops. Some had smoke pouring out of their mouths, and a maniacal gleam in their eyes visible in the dark. Victor tried to stay focused on the target. That there were killers in the Homefront was something well known, but never had anyone become so emboldened. Death was something to be mourned, and instead it had become something to be celebrated when the reaper’s scythe fell upon those on the other side of the wall. And as those walls crept closer into view, and the silhouettes of dozens upon dozens of dragons too grew nearer, humanity had gone well off into the deep end.

The first snaps of the cloudbusters sounded loud and clear. Soon after, bolts the size of an arm flew past into the night air, fast enough to be missed by a blink. Victor felt one brush the air by his hindlegs, and another over by the tip of his right wing. Then, the black dragon from earlier grunted very aggressively: The air had been forced out of his lungs by a bolt which had punctured his belly. He briefly looked at his upper chest, then coughed out a spurt, before his wings gave way. Soon after, he was nothing but a shape in the darkness, rapidly falling back to the ground.

If there had been any sort of formation Victor and the others were flying in, it had well beyond fallen apart by now. Fortunately for him, the darkness was his ally, and so was speed: As devilishly accurate as the cloudbuster gunners were, most of their shots flew past with little harm done. Whatever foul magic was at the gunners side wasn’t working as well as they had hoped.

But alas, all good fortunes only stretch so far. The night was haunted by roars and screams of various pitches, their echoes scaring the forest critters out of their hibernation. Even with his concentration, it was difficult for Victor or any of the others to ignore the well over a dozen shapes falling from all sides of Whitestream’s skies, let alone the spectres of death flying high into the air towards their victims. So many more on the reaper’s list who still drew breath.

The first dragons got in range of the walls, and they unleashed their fury upon the hapless defenders stationed on the walls. A tidal wave of red death, the flames spat forth from many a dragon’s maw onto those troopers stationed at the cloudbusters. In an instant, many stoic youngsters who had likely spent the last few days dreaming of glory were turned into screaming children, as the flames enveloped them. All those hopes and dreams, burned into ash. The first cloudbuster attacked quickly broke apart under the intense pressure of the heat; the second followed soon after, and so on. More dragons reached the walls: the cloudbusters still intact now had good view on their targets, however, and they used their last shots to land a few bullseyes. Including the one who had lit the first fire: his agonizing roar barely left his maw before it was reduced to a gurgle.

When Victor reached the walls, the assaulting dragons had already managed to get the majority of the defenders to either jump or flee to the nearest flight of stairs. Strict orders had been handed down that anyone who would so much as attempt to set the homes and stores of the city ablaze would be added to the list of casualties, the lone shining star in the horrible night. Victor’s pleas had been respected, thankfully.

“Celesta?” shouted Victor. The lavender dragoness was nowhere to be seen.

“Easy now, Victor!” she shouted from behind a tower, “Get to the gate!”

Victor didn’t say anything back before running off the other way, in the direction of the gate to the south. If the rest failed to open that gate while he was stumbling around, that was an outcome best left forgotten. And thus he ran across the walls towards the Summer Gate.

Already a large squadron of imperial soldiers were running like madmen towards the Summer Gate with their new weapons, for it was but a matter of time before the gates would swing open now that the walls had been lost. Several robed figures whose hands were soaked in a bright blue liquid were running with them. Wizards, Victor thought to himself. Some of the men fired their weapons towards him, and Victor had to leave.

By the time he reached the front gate controls atop the walls, the situation had already stabilised in favor of the Homefront. The imperial soldiers were kept at bay in the stairs, and the gates were slowly opening wide to the Homefront’s infantry waiting outside. One dragon lay bleeding on the floor by the controls; another tended to him.

“Do you think you’ll make it, buddy?”

“Yeah,” the dragon groaned, “but they got me good… I don’t think I can fight any longer, I need rest...”

“Curse these imperial bastards,” the dragon providing aid grumbled, “It’s hard enough moving around with this armour on, let alone trying to patch up a wound!”

“Stay calm, we need to focus here,” Victor said. “They might come back up here at any moment.”

“Hey, red one, get over to the stairs, will you? Before these imperial scum come running up here.”

“Yes, yes.”

Victor hurried his way to one of the two stairwells, relieving one of his blood brethren in the process. The stairs were far too narrow for a dragon to get through; fortunately, that also meant using a weapon inside of one was a bridge too far as well. A lick of fire would take care of whomever ran in.

But no one did. The imperial forces didn’t dare to try and assault now, not when the gates were swinging open, and the hordes were storming the walls like a tide stormed the beach. The men had their muskets at hand as the first wave came in. The thunder of their guns struck; the troops of the Homefront began tumbling en masse. At least a dozen had fallen when the first volley fired. The first in line fell to their knees to reload, and the second behind them took aim.

And so a dozen more would fall, either killed instantly or squealing out in agony. But behind them were far, far more men, and by the time the next volley was fired, they had ran past the gate, shrieking with blade in hand. Chaos erupted; a wooden barrel exploded and sent splinters flying, and in a panic the troops fired without looking. Others retreated, and others fell. Then the Frontsmen reached the fireline, and those who remained were dead men walking. They were hacked to pieces by blades flashing in the light of the flames, and thus called up in Death’s roll call.

With the infantry inside, now was the time to storm the city itself. Building by building, the imperials would be pushed out. Some had already jumped the gun; parts in the north west of the city had already fallen, and an assault on the keep in the north was underway. The infantry had gotten atop the walls across the west and raised the banner there; the east however, was strangely quiet. The Justitian forces were on the backfoot; now that the walls were gone, their situation was dire.

Victor jumped off of the walls and joined the fight. The Frontsmen who had made it had already ran off into the alleyways of the city, in pursuit of the enemy. Those who had been shot were being dragged off by rearguard troops, if they still breathed that was. Shots rang out across each alley; death lurked around every corner. Victor picked an alley at random and ran in, and was greeted by one of the Frontsmen running back around the corner, who proceeded to dive behind a rain barrel.

“Watch out! They’re comin’ this way!”

The red dragon steeled himself; time slowed down to a bug’s pace. He could hear the footsteps coming closer around the corner; he could hear their breaths, their hearts beating in their chests. Something within took control, and he leapt at the corner of the street, past the trooper who could only look on stunned as a large beast charged past. “Dra-” said a voice, before the mouth it came from was slammed shut from the impact. His weapon fell upon the ground, left behind as its wielder was thrown against the wall of an ordinary house. His companions hardly managed to aim before they fell into Victor’s sight. With both claws, he threw them against the floor, tossed their weapons aside, and swiftly put them to sleep with the back of his claws. Victor eyed the alley ahead; some shots rang out, then some Frontsmen came running. He breathed out.

Phew, that was something else…

“Damn Red, that was crazy!” the Frontsman behind Victor said as he crawled away from behind the barrel.

Victor shrugged. “I guess you could say that.”

“These damn Justitians are something else, I tell you. One wrong step and you’re as good as dead. See him right there? That’s my buddy they just shot.” The Frontsman pointed to the body of someone who was dressed just like him lying ahead in the alley. He had fallen onto his belly; several holes were burned into his back.

“My condolences.” Victor carefully scratched at the scales on his other front leg. “Uh, this might sound stupid, but I have to ask, where are we supposed to go? I, uh, I forgot.”

“The port. Can’t let these bastards escape, potentially.”

“Don’t we have the river under control?” Victor asked. The soldier shook his head.

“Can’t leave it up to chance. For all we know it won’t be enough, and I’ve heard that there’s some reinforcements coming from the east. If we don’t hurry, they’ll escape.”

“Alright.”

“Right, what are we waiting for? Lord Lothar will have us both killed if we’re caught standing around here, let’s go!”

“Alright, alright! I’m coming, don’t yell at me!”

The Frontsman ran off into the alley, and Victor followed him like a blind man right into the thick of the fighting. The imperial forces were clearly on the backfoot; the Frontsmen weren’t giving them much room to fire their cannons, if they even had those to begin with. These troops were armed with swords and pikes; evidently not enough of the hand cannons had been produced. Either way, Victor and the others pushed past building after building. The enemy was demoralized, and the very air they breathed out reeked of desperation. The large plated lizards running around didn’t help matters either.

Still, there were some holdouts, and progress overall was slow. After some time and a few more alleys having fallen to the Front, red flares lit up the night skies from the east. Step by step, the city was being cleared. Holding out here was akin to trying to stop water with a thin rag, and the defenders knew that. They delayed and delayed, for reasons the men attacking didn’t know.

At the port, where the last functional cloudbusters and the best Justitian troops in the walls were stationed, several barges were filling up with troops, civilians and all sorts of valuables from those same civilians. Anything which the enemy could use was to be taken away. Heidi herself was guarding the entrance to the port, which had held out so far. She was all ears to the words of a frail-looking superior in the Justitian army.

“Madam, the evacuation is going as well as it could right now. We’ve only lost one of our barges. I think we have plenty of room to get everyone right here out. I’ve also heard word from our contacts that those promised reinforcements are attempting to break the siege, which is also good.”

Heidi sighed. “I’m afraid it’s too late. With how… porous the walls appear to have been, there’s little we can do to prevent the city from falling now. We can thank the gods that those damned cultists haven’t put the whole city to the torch, and because of that we’re able to get most of the people out of here, but it’s only a matter of time.”

The frail superior shook his head. “Madam. I beg your pardon, but we should have more than enough room for everyone in the city to get out. I do not see a reason for your pessimistic tone-”

Heidi held a flat hand up to the superior’s face. “I have made peace with the fact that I will not see the light of dawn ever again. This town is my home, and its people are my life. I, and all those who have volunteered to protect our home against this wicked cult cannot possibly keep a good conscience by running away. We will stay.”

“But, madam...”

“No, nothing ‘but’. I know, there’s so much more that I could give. But if there’s any place on earth where I would want to die, it is here, surrounded by what I love.”

A cold wind swept through the harbour. The barges wobbled uneasily in the murky waters of the Stejer river, their passengers looking weary and exhausted already. They hadn’t left, and already some mourned for their home as dust and smoke arose into the twilight. Soon the Homefront will take over, and only the gods knew what they had planned for a town that so virulently opposed them. They certainly knew of what the Justitians had wrought; woe be upon all who had chosen to stay behind instead of fleeing alongside the Justitians to safer ground.

As the night weakened, so too did both sides’ willpower. The fiery excitement of open combat had fizzled into a mere flicker, soon to be doused by a torrent of reality. It was easy for the troops on both sides to talk the talk when surrounded by like-minded individuals; yet when the time came to have at it, many quickly became exhausted by the mundanity of it all. How abnormal it truly was. This was no glorious victory, nor was it a hard-to-swallow defeat. It was a struggle for table scraps.

Victor felt it in his bones, the desire to do nothing but lay down under a roof and rest for a while. Even if it poured, it would be better than having lances scrape by him, or munitions fly over his head, or swords clanging against the heavy armor he was wearing. Alas, it was a dream, no more. He'd collected a fair number of scratches on his plate, and likely he'd a few more at the end of the day. The more he got, the easier they were to handle.

The battle raged on. On one corner, William was providing support to some dragons pushing the northern walls. On another, Raghes was taking care of some locals who had surrendered. And beyond the walls on the other side of the Steyer, the reinforcing army was blasting their way through the Front’s rearguard.

Some minutes later, the imperial troops began gradually retreating to the port. A glance to the western wall made clear why: The golden terror who had set the Justitian army ablaze back at Westedge had climbed on top of the walls, and unleashed a furious roar unlike any other. The Justitians in the city scurried, threw whatever objects they could find in the way of the attackers, and ran to the port.

The Frontsmen were quick on their heels, clearing the way for the dragons to follow in pursuit. The Justitians had barricaded just about every street leading to the port. Victor couldn’t help but hold back when all the others ran in. Why are they all running? They weren’t struggling at all, were they? Maybe somewhere else something went wrong. I doubt they’d be running just because of my father, right?

His attempts to try and rationalize what was happening were cut short by the sound of an explosion coming from his front. He fell onto his belly and buried his eyes underneath his claws, and was hit by a rain of little rubble bits of some sort. When he peeked between two talons, he was met by a clear coast. All the other troops had also been knocked off their feet, spare a few sturdy fools. Victor ran ahead; the sound had come from the port.

Alas, when the dust had settled, all that could be seen was the port in ruins, and the final evacuees waving from the barge as it ventured down the river.