The morning muster was ongoing. Chief Storm Leader Rorn Dussel waited patiently in his quarters while his Junior Storm Leader organized Second Company. The 3rd Mechanized Infantry Division was part of the 2nd Strike into Norrinth. The 1st Strike had already commenced yesterday. Fifty Divisions of tanks and field guns went through supposedly impossible terrain and managed to bypass Norrinth’s Barsten Defense Line. According to the reports, they were now pushing through the Norrinthian countryside in an effort to reach the capital city, Sheras.

The 3rd Mechanized Infantry Division would be sweeping south, to neutralize the defence line. After all, it was easier to take out guns facing the wrong way, wasn’t it?

Rorn snorted in annoyance. While he had very definite ideas about how warfare should be conducted, he wasn’t in any position to influence overall strategy. Besides, he knew that his men were perfectly content stabbing at the backs of the Norrinthian line. The Richmond Confederacy’s patriotic fervour had been brewing ever since the Norrithian Empire trounced them in the last war. Well, not the current government, but the previous patchwork nations that the Confederacy had been before the Tyrant had unified them. All glory to the Tyrant!

He’d long been ready and had been dressed to perfection even before dawn. He patted down his crisp uniform, brushed off imaginary dust, and straightened his cap. He ran a finger down his cheek, but there was no trace of fuzz. His insignias were polished gleaming, and his sidearm was secured at his hip. He stepped out of his office just as Junior Storm Leader Adam Tilich proclaimed the Company was ready.

Rorn gazed at his men, standing ten in a row, four deep. The forty soldiers carried their supplies and gear on backpacks, and each had their rifle at a precise angle, resting on their shoulders. They weren’t the only company in the army camp, of course. The 2nd Strike was composed of another fifty divisions, and they were but a small part of the Confederate army. All throughout, the bustle of preparation filled the air, along with burning petrol as transport trucks and armoured cars’ engines were revved up.

A quick inspection of his troops left him satisfied and just as he was about to order them to load up…

“Chief Storm Leader Dussel!” A swarthy squad leader hurried up to his formation. He snapped a salute, with his right fist outstretched and level with his eyes. “Glory to the Tyrant!”

“Glory to the Tyrant.” Rorn returned the salute. “What is it?”

“Orders from High Command. For your Company.” He offered a letter, unsealed, of course, but printed in cypher.

“Thank you.”

Rorn frowned. The word Urgent was printed on the top part, in plain language. He stared at the nonsensical mix of letters and numbers, working out the cypher in his mind. It was a simple one, but without the daily key provided by the Enigma Device, it would be impossible to work through it.

2 C, 3 M I D. Meet asset Ludderdorf. Proceed Immediately. Authenticate: 3AC4JI5347.

Rorn snorted. “Well, run me over and call me a fool.”

His chance for glory had just been sidelined. Their chance to be part of the Norrinthian Strike force was done, and he and the boys were going back into Confederate territory for who knew what. And who was he supposed to meet? He stared at the cypher, at how the word asset was transcribed.

Warlock. One of the occultists the Tyrant favoured. Damnation. Witchcraft and sorcery had no place in the modern world and should have been left in the bowels of history. Still, it was an order he could not refuse.

“Junior Storm Leader Tilich! Prepare the men for transportation. On the double!” he yelled.

“Huh? But sir, it isn’t our turn yet!” Adam Tilich protested.

The young man’s features were just a smidgen off from the ideal state, with his hair the colour of midnight instead of the zenith sun. He had the trim musculature and chiselled jaw that drove the ladies mad with fervour, though. Rorn should know as he’d seen the lad in the pubs back home. Pity that he wouldn’t get the chance to earn medals in this campaign.

“We’ve got new orders,” Rorn said shortly. “Do as I say.”

“Yes, sir. Glory to the Tyrant!”

There were a few more things Rorn had to do before he could proceed on his mission. Despite Tilich’s enthusiasm, he had to check in with the quartermaster as well as the 3rd Division’s commander, Assault Leader Strumdrang.

He found the Assault Leader with the 1st Company, and upon presenting his orders from High Command, was given the commander’s blessing, a letter with a seal to authenticate the company’s detachment, and was directed to the quartermaster so he could return his excess supply. Since he wouldn’t be part of the invasion force after all, the extra munitions, food and drink, and petrol wouldn’t be needed. All in all, it took another hour before he boarded the armoured car and the driver took off.

The trip to Ludderdorf would take several hours even if the conditions weren’t so muddy. The dry season wouldn’t be here until another couple of weeks and most of the country roads they’d have to travel would be muddy. The rest of the 2nd Company fit in a couple of trucks.

A couple of hours into the drive and Rorn decided to take a long nap. The excitement and anticipation he’d felt while getting ready for the 2nd Strike had long devolved into boredom. Whomever he was going to rendezvous with had better have a good reason, or he’d shoot the guy’s kneecap off.

__________

The dreamscape felt strange. The mists outside of her area of influence were thinner, but no less obscuring. But even worse, was the fact that she could feel her Animus reserves slowly drain away for every moment she stayed. It was necessary, but costly.

Fri’Avgi had been the one to tell her that what she needed to defend Rumiga, and hopefully defeat the mastermind behind their troubles, was in Siderious. She could feel it now. Something was pulling at her. It was close, too, though she wasn’t certain if distance here translated to distance in the material world. She could barely see the threads that bound her to the people she loved and cared for. Oh, the ones near her were quite clear, but the threads that were attached to Da, and Mum, were faint.

As for the thing that she needed…it was somewhere to the north? Northeast, she thought, but maybe closer to true north than northeast. She wasn’t sure.

Anyway, every second was a lumen down, and after a minute, she pulled herself out of the dreamscape.

Almost all at once, her worries returned. What kind of place was Siderious? Perhaps the best place to start looking would be that town off in the distance. She hoped that people actually lived there. She’d rather not find another ruin.

The sun had moved another couple of hours into its path, and the Animus Yuriko had recovered during that time, had been frittered away by her foray into the dreamscape. A necessary expense, she kept telling herself.

Nearly everyone was in a meditative trance, but she could see the frustration painting their faces. Seran was pacing nervously, and clutching at his Plasma Caster. His fingers lingered on the jade cartridges on his belt. There were three and each one contained roughly twenty lumens of denatured Animus. The cartridges didn’t leak, so there was that.

Most of the others were at half or less in their reserves. The Imperials anyway. Izna, Sheamus, and Arman were worse off. Sheamus still had a third, while the two Intermediate Binders were working with dregs. The strain of keeping conscious manifested in sunken cheeks and bags under their eyes. The beastkin didn’t seem to be bothered though.

“Our Animus reserves are quite secure,” Kassy said when Yuriko asked. “Our discipline allows us to keep our storage within our bones and flesh, rather than within our core. It’s harder for the air around us to siphon it out that way.”

The Animus leaked out when people exhaled. This was ironic since it was said that the beginning of Animus recovery was done by inhaling ambient Chaos and converting it within the body.

Of the entire group, only she, Heron, and Gwendith were still in a good place. It took her five minutes to recover a single lumen, but for the other two, it was the same as with the others. Two hours of meditation now and they’ve barely recovered a single lumen. It was disconcerting, to say the least. No, the other two’s advantage was that they could still use their Anima to fight and maintain their general level of strength.

“We’re in a very dangerous place,” Gwendith admitted. She trembled every now and then. “You’re the only one with a respectable rate of recovery.”

“Oh, please,” Yuriko scoffed, “at the rate I’m going it would still take me days to get back to full. Most of my techniques are absolutely gluttonous…”

“So’s everyone else’s,” Heron cut in grouchily. “I…” He swallowed and looked away.

“We’re all nervous,” Orrin said, his antennae twitching about cutely. Hmm, she’d somewhat grown used to it, especially how it betrayed his every emotion now.

“What do we do now?” Braden asked, “We can’t just leave this place right? The way back to Rumiga is there! And…what about those monsters?”

“Rifts won’t open if our Animus isn’t siphoned,” Yuriko said, “And…well, we came here to look for and recruit the Warforged to help us. I imagine we should be doing that first.”

“Where will we look for them?” Orrin asked.

“There’s a town to the north. I suggest we head over there,” Yuriko answered.

“I…don’t feel secure in just leaving here,” Heron admitted. “My Animus reserves…another fight like before and we’d run out. How long would it take to recover?”

“I suggest we find out first before we go gallivanting off,” Gwendith said.

“Agreed,” Yuriko answered. “Let’s rest and recover for the day, and decide tomorrow where we’ll go…”

“What’s that?!” Yells from the lookouts had all of them bolting to their feet. But when Yuriko saw the marine watchman, he was pointing towards the sky. Yuriko looked up, expecting a skybeast or some other fell creature, but instead saw something altogether strange.

It looked like a bird and because it was so high up in the sky, she could barely discern it. The figure flew across the clouds, and she could barely hear a strange buzzing noise that came from up there. Then…

Boom! Boom! Booom!

Thunder and flames. Puffs of black smoke appeared around the flying thing, which turned around and beat a hasty retreat. The sound came from the north, and it took Yuriko a long moment to realise why the sounds felt familiar. It sounded somewhat like the Steam Cannons the Haveenians used against them in Faron’s Crossing, but these voices were deeper.

_________

The man kept his flat cap low, covering his eyes. The brisk wind helped since it allowed him to keep his coat tight, and the collar up to keep warmth. While the Sanctus Kingdom was purportedly neutral, it didn’t suffer spies and saboteurs easily. Well as long as no hostile action came from the man, he would be left alone.

Still, the Kingdom in the Mountains was the ideal place to keep an eye on the Richmond Confederacy, and even though most of the Kingdom’s counterspies knew his face, his skill in Alteration, not to mention makeup and a handy collection of wigs and fake beards, allowed him anonymity.

But then again, he just received word from Lindorn that a major Occult Resonance had just happened. It was within the Richmond border too, and with the Tyrant’s obsession with all things magical, he was sure to send investigators.

And if he wasn’t mistaken, a spy aircraft from Drunada had made a pass over the suspected coordinates and had consequently been shot down. Hopefully, the pilot survived.

Now then, perhaps he should get ready to leave Sanctus City and sneak into the Confederacy to find out what the hullabaloo was.