It didn’t take all that long before his prediction came true. After Avalanche’s battalion commander reported back, Marie had bounced over to his desk and dragged him away before he could start his planning process on penning an SOP to set up emergency landing zones for whole fleets of Locomotives.

The sun shone down on his uniform as he flew behind Marie, who was headed to the refugee fleet of Locomotives. Now that the Five Lands was on a war footing, the concept of borders was obsolete. Liamar’s Divine Kingdom, which was the second line of defence if the first at the Great Divide were to falter, was a nation-sized fortress. Other than the spires that were oh-so-deadly, the Five Lands had chipped in to fortify the territory even more. Hundreds of automated emplacements — made by mortals, the kind Aziz had seen during his visit to Twilight Elysium — were strategically placed everywhere.

It wouldn’t be long before Aziz’s forward base would be useless; right now, troops from the Five Lands were making their way to the defensive lines at the Great Divide. Once they got there, this forward base, which was once built to warn against Liamar’s troops, would be dismantled and rebuilt in the God of Fire’s Divine Kingdom.

“Truly, politics makes strange bedfellows,” Aziz muttered.

Marie made a grunt. “We were just fighting each other a few years ago, and now we’re crossing their borders without even any notification, while bringing along enough materiel to construct a fortress.”

The two waved as Demigod Rene drew close to them. “I heard about that huge, unidentified fleet.”

“It’s not hostile, that’s all I can tell,” Marie said. “We’re heading over now too. Do you need some documentation from us?”

“No need. I bear a wisp of the Lord’s consciousness with me,” she replied.

Upon hearing that, Aziz decided to hold off on any banter until he got confirmation that the great god’s awareness was gone. This was his Divine Kingdom, after all. Even talking smack about the gods outside was something a great god had actually taken issue with, so doing precisely that in a Divine Kingdom was simply asking to be beaten.

Marie began to ask about the people in red they had seen whenever they went to Liamar’s Divine Kingdom, a little notebook in hand. For some reason, she hadn’t had a chance to do so, despite the fact that the first time she and Aziz had seen them was years ago, when they were escorting a whole bunch of diplomats to discuss a ceasefire.

“To call them humans or beastfolk really isn’t accurate, though.” Rene lowered her altitude, and the others followed suit. “Sure, they look like humans and behave like one, but their life is tied to that of the Lord. And they don’t exactly have agency and free will the way you guys have. Their role and destiny are determined from birth. More importantly, there’s a proper name for them — they’re godkith.”

“I see.” Marie rubbed her chin. “Do godkith still have free will in things like love and emotions?”

“Naturally, but only within their sphere,” Rene replied. She glanced at Aziz, and then said, “The people they usually come into contact with.”

“Oh. Social stratification, then,” Aziz mused out loud.

“Seems like it.”

“People are happiest when they do what they’re good at,” Rene replied. “As a rule of thumb, most of the great gods use a similar system.”

“Can’t say I’d be happy about such a system if it applied to me, though,” Aziz replied.

“I think I deserve some praise from unearthing your talent as a paper pusher,” Marie said. “Who knew that you’d be that good at administration?”

“If only the finance department is as good as me, then,” Aziz replied. “I still haven’t claimed my pay.”

“Didn’t Pauline put an end to that?” Marie asked.

“She did, in a way. My pay is now in silver coins.” Aziz shook his head. “Thankfully, this new banking system is about to roll out. I’m already signed up for it. I’ll be able to withdraw my pay in notes before the Great Divide comes down.”

“You’ll have to thank the North for that, then,” Marie replied. “Is it really safe to introduce new economic developments right before the war of our lives, though?”

“Who knows? But at least we get paid.” Aziz glanced at the Demigod, who was listening in to their animated conversation. “Does Liamar’s people get paid too?”

“Everything’s for free in the land of the Lord,” Rene replied. “Money is a mortal construct. We don’t even use it.”

“I mean, I know you guys don’t use our currency, but there isn’t an internal one either?” Marie asked, scribbling in her notebook.

“That’s right,” Rene replied. “Looks like this question and answer session will have to stop here. We’ve arrived.”

As a rule of thumb, Locomotives usually moved in groups of three or four, as that was just enough to deploy an entire regiment, the largest projection of force short of an actual army. Seeing twenty Ark-class Locomotives in a single place, however, was nothing short of eye-opening.

“They look a bit different from our own ones, though,” Marie observed. “No armaments, no defences. If you ask me, this looks more like the original vision of the Ark-class Locomotives — a pure transport.”

“How many people are inside, then? How many can one carry?”

“We’ll have time for that later, colonel.”

The two of them glanced at Avalanche Battalion, which was busily communicating with the Demigod at the head of the fleet. A few familiar faces were standing around her, but their expressions belonged to grieving men and women.

“Looks like their escape wasn’t all that smooth, then,” Aziz observed quietly.

“Seems like it.” Marie glanced at the rapid construction going on a few kilometres away. The reason why both of them had settled on creating LZs for those Locomotives was because they wanted to preserve their structural integrity. With some tinkering, they could become a valuable addition to the Five Lands’ growing fleet, but before that, they had to get everyone off first.

With Rene following them, the two headed over to join the discussion. The newcomers were almost certainly from Ark City, and he was interested in hearing about what happened on the other side of the Great Divide.