Victoire looked over the Verglanian Air Force with apprehension.

While the magmorians were exclusively a powerful land army with no flyers whatsoever, Verglane had managed to form a small aerial unit made up of wereowls, winged elephant riders led by Filou, and Jarlack's wyvern riders crew. This troop numbered less than five hundred and would likely perform better at night than during the day, considering a majority of the force consisted of wereowls, but each of them carried enough alchemical fire to bring the pain to Valentine. Half of them seemed astonished that they would now fight to protect the very country their unit had been created to defeat. Spirits remained high though, since their trust in their god was unshakable.

And then there was their secret weapon, growling in anticipation…

"Mistress Victoire, Mistress Victoire, Soumis has succeeded!" The dragon wagged his tail like a dog waiting for a pat on the head. "Soumis has recovered your castle as you asked! Soumis has been a good dragon!"

Victoire steeled herself for the harsh ordeal ahead of her. She was thankful that Insupportable wasn't present at the meeting—Lord Wepwawet had decided to keep him in reserve for now—since one dragon was already too many.

"Yes, you have," Victoire replied while hiding her disgust. "You have earned yourself the honor of serving as my mount for this battle."

Victoire suppressed a shudder of disgust when the dragon proceeded to breathe out smoke and make awful noises. I want to puke, she thought. Please tell me we won't make this a habit, Lord Wepwawet.

"I'm afraid I can't promise anything," her god replied with a telepathic sigh, his spirit manifesting at her side. "I'll give you a day off once this is over."

Victoire would take it, but they had to win the battle first. She cleared her throat and prepared to give her forces a briefing.

"The ceasefire is about to expire within half an hour, at which point the battle will start," Victoire informed her troops. "Here is what we suspect will happen based on the forces arrayed against us."

She proceeded to give them a brief description of the situation on the ground. Valentine's and Mortis' forces had taken position on the hills south of the city with siege engines within shooting distance of the walls. The angels' flying pyramid had taken off with a good chunk of Salamandra's civilian population onboard, which left only one entry point into Salamandra proper past the magma moat protecting the city: the main gates and its obsidian bridge.

"The trebuchets will provide suppression fire for their pegasi forces as they move to take out the archers and mages on the walls, which would then allow them to seize the gates," Victoire explained. "At the same time, Valentinian mangonels and their 'cannons'—a new artillery weapon similar to focused alchemical fire—will bombard the walls in an attempt to bring them down. Mortis' undead cavalry will almost certainly rush into any breach the moment it opens up."

"How do they expect to cross the magma moat even if they blow a hole in the walls?" Jarlack asked with a snort. "Undead aren't fireproof."

"Our foes have at least two godly patrons supporting them," Victoire countered. "One will likely provide a Miracle to shield their troops from the heat."

"Other troops will deal with the land forces should they manage to blow a hole in the fortifications," Lord Wepwawet replied. "Your priority will be to contest the sky with the Valentinian Pegasus Corps, then move on to destroy the teleporter and siege engines."

Victoire turned to Filou. "Considering flying elephants can't hover too far or too long, you'll be sent straight onto the hills holding the cannons once we open up the path. Capturing the enemy artillery intact for future study would be great, but not a requirement."

"I have several questions," Jarlack said.

"You'll get a bonus if you capture the cannons," Lord Wepwawet replied with a hint of annoyance. "But risking the life of your allies in the process will include a hefty fine bigger than the reward."

"Then I have no more questions."

"We won't disappoint you, Your Godliness, Milady," Filou swore with a fist on his chest. "We'll return victorious or not at all!"

"I appreciate the sentiment, Filou, but I'd rather that you all return alive," Victoire replied. As much as she understood her squire wanted to prove himself as a true knight, she had already lost too many allies to add him to the tally. "In any case, remember that we are fighting nations sponsored by foreign deities. We cannot afford to lower our guard."

Lord Wepwawet nodded and raised three of his fingers. "You can expect three things from this battle: enemy Champions, hostile divine intervention, and the unexpected. I will do my best to guide and protect you, but the entities sponsoring our enemies possess powers I am not yet aware of. Be cautious, be safe, and be vigilant."

"To increase the odds on our side, I will personally lead this operation…" Victoire took a long, deep breath. "On dragonback."

"Yes! Yes!" Soumis all but crawled on the ground towards her, his back flatter than a sheet of paper. "Soumis is ready, Mistress!"

Victoire exchanged a glance with her sympathetic god, then mustered up her strength and climbed the dragon's back. Jarlack's wyvern rider corps had equipped Soumis with a special saddle that included chains fastened to the rider's belt to prevent Victoire from falling while in flight. While she had no particular experience with that kind of combat, she had ridden enough horses to quickly get the hang of it.

"Oh yes, oh yes, this is perfect…" Soumis said with a whine of joy. "To be crushed under the weight of royalty is such a pleasure…"

"Shut up!" Victoire snapped in annoyance once she couldn't take anymore of the dragon's drivel. "Just shut up!"

"Yes, Mistress." Soumis continued to breathe heavily and purr like a cat, which only made it worse. At least Lord Wepwawet's newest Miracle shielded her from the heat radiating from the dragon. A pity she hadn't gone deaf along with it.

"I am so sorry, Milady," Filou all but wept in sympathy. He had tried to convince Victoire to take his flying elephant into battle rather than Soumis earlier, all in vain. "I wish I had wings to give you."

"To be a knight is to live a life of sacrifice, Filou," Victoire replied with a sigh. "Such is the burden we must all share."

"Good luck," Lord Wepwawet's spirit saluted his troops before takeoff. "My blessings and your bravery shall carry you to victory!"

"For Verglane and Lavaland!" Victoire shouted back with her spear raised high and her dragon mount's wings expanding. "Onward to victory, Soumis!"

"Yes, Mistress Victoire!"

Soumis flapped his wings with enough strength to whip up a gust of wind, and then Victoire flew.

The takeoff was so sudden and violent that Victoire nearly dropped her spear and shield during it. No beast on Elphion could match a dragon's speed and agility in the air, and Soumis proved that fact once again as he soared across the sky above Salamandra's glass rooftops. She held onto his saddle with all of her might while the hot wind blew onto her face.

She managed to peek over her shoulder to see Jarlack and the wyvern riders followed right after her with far greater skill and yet slower speed, then the wereowls, and finally the small flying elephant corps. Their squadron ascended to the sky in a loosely coordinated fashion.

Her allies were all in position on the ground. Fire Sultana Alexandrite had taken command over the mages at the front gates, with Duke Vidé and the few demons present in the city assisting her there. General Peridot commanded the eastern side of the fortifications—the one most exposed to the enemy's forces—and Jasper led the west side. Wereling archers had joined with magmorian pyromancers and now waited for the signal to fire.

"Three, two…" Lord Wepwawet's voice echoed in Victoire's mind. "One—"

Valentine's army launched the attack the very second the ceasefire expired.

Victoire had heard—and survived—plenty of explosions, but few matched the sound of Valentine's cannon weapons. They vomited rune-powered spheres of steel from the hills in streams of smoke and fire, the projectiles soaring through the air before they hit Salamandra's walls with enough force to shake them. Trebuchets and catapults followed, raining boulders and stones upon the city.

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Victoire's troops flew too high for the projectiles to reach them, and true to Lord Wepwawet's suspicions they mostly targeted the archers and mages on the walls. Magmorian pyromancers returned fire with flame blasts, none of whom could match the strength of Alexandrite who unleashed massive orbs of lava with each wave of her hands. One of them hit a vulnerable trebuchet and incinerated it in an instant, while Duke Vidé cast some sort of spell that turned enemy soldiers to stone.

A horde of flyers flew out of the Valentinian camp in squadrons of knights riding winged horses in V-shaped formations after the initial strike. Victoire had never seen such a large cavalry charge, especially one launched by pegasi. They eerily reminded her of Beelzebub's swarm of giant flies in the distance, rising up above the city.

"They're going to dive down on the mages and archers!" Victoire shouted, her spear raised for the fight. "Intercept them!"

Soumis roared and breathed death at their foes.

A pyroclastic torrent of fire erupted from his maw and coursed across the sky with such speed that it took most Valentinian forces aback. His flames roasted the closest flying horses and their riders alive, while many who tried to dodge the attack proved too slow to succeed. Ten Valentinian knights died in the opening volley, and quite a few pegasi struggled too much with burning feathers to fly straight. The dragon's roar frightened many of them into breaking formation and spread localized chaos among the knights' ranks.

Victoire doubted this chaos would last, considering the Valentine Pegasus Corps' reputation, but she resolved to exploit it for all it was worth.

I have to say, Victoire thought as she aimed her spear at a pegasus knight charging at her with a javelin. Dragon-riding is not so bad in the thick of battle.

She threw her blazing spear with all of her divinely-enhanced strength, hitting the knight in the chest with such force that the blow dismounted and sent him plummeting to his death below. Victoire briefly winced in sympathy—that had to be a terrible way to go—but quickly summoned the weapon back to her hand and then threw it again at the nearest knight.

Most pegasus riders fielded throwing javelins as their main weapons, with a few settling on longbows instead. Many of their flying mounts panicked at the mere sight of Soumis and fled rather than approach the dragon, but a handful powered through and began to harass the dragon with projectiles. Their arrows and javelins bounced off his thick scales, and Victoire repelled those thrown at her with her shield.

Soumis' charge opened a breach in the riders' ranks, which Jarlack's wyvern corps swiftly exploited. Wyverns were slightly slower than them, but much larger and with far greater range. Jarlack's giant axe let him tear apart riders and their mounts alike in half the moment they approached him and his allies' wyverns happily tore apart any pegasus caught in their way like lizards catching smaller prey in their jaws.

The wereowls struggled a lot more. They split into two groups, with one engaging the pegasus riders and the others dropping alchemical fire onto the siege engines below. The former matched the pegasus riders' in speed and agility, but explosive bottles proved far less accurate projectiles than javelins and arrows. Two wereowls fell at the hands of archers and spearsmen for every pegasus rider set ablaze.

The group targeting the siege engines below had much better luck. Thanks to their enhanced sense of sight, they dropped their payload with high accuracy while remaining out of range from the archers and mages on the ground. Many hills turned into candles as fiery explosions rocked them, burning the ropes of catapults and setting the cannons' rune-projectiles ablaze.

Filou and the flying elephant corps hovered at a lower altitude, then proceeded to land near the cannons which the wereowls had bombarded. Their elephants seemed to frighten the Valentinian horses and caused a panic among the cavalry, though the pikemen and infantry quickly rallied in walls of spears to intercept them.

So far, so good, Victoire thought after nailing her fifth rider. Numbers favored the enemy, but the dragon's presence and the shock of the counterattack frightened the pegasi enough to disturb their formation. Once we take out the siege engines and their suppression fire, we can break through and move on to the teleporter.

She knew completing that task would be harder than it sounded, but she had faith.

A war horn echoed across the sky, and the pegasus riders quickly reformed their ranks. The first shock's surprise had passed, with the enemy's discipline quickly prevailing.

Three of the riders broke from the rest of the formation, each of them clad in white armor laced with different colors: blue, yellow, and red. The three of them charged at Soumis and Victoire.

They are quite brave to charge at a dragon, Victoire noted as she raised her spear and Soumis unleashed a torrent of fire at them. They must be Champions. I cannot lower my guard.

She threw her spear at the three, and they vanished in the blink of an eye.

Victoire coughed in surprise when her spear flew across empty space. Soumis' flames burned the air without touching anything, and his rider immediately began to look around herself in search of her missing opponents. Was that an invisibility spell?

"It's a speed boost Miracle!" Lord Wepwawet warned her. "Brace yourself!"

Victoire barely had time to raise her shield as she noticed a blur on her left. A jousting spear impacted it at the last possible second with such strength that she would have been thrown off Soumis without the chains binding her to his saddle. Two other projectiles descended upon the dragon and nailed the joints of his wings with javelins. They didn't penetrate the scales deep enough to cripple Soumis, but they reached far enough to draw drops of fiery molten blood.

"What is this itching?" the dragon wondered, more surprised than hurt. "Soumis doesn't like this feeling!"

"That is pain," Victoire replied, her teeth gritting as she recalled her spear to her hand. The three colored riders began to encircle them from all sides, each of them flying so fast her eyes perceived them as blurs. "You better get used to it."

This would be her first serious fight against another god's Champions, and she had the feeling victory would demand its bloody toll.

Baron Alonzo Cortez of Mortis had missed the game of war.

He practiced it in his homeland along with fellow undead nobles whenever he felt overwhelmed by boredom, but such mock battles never quickened his long-shriveled heart. The dead always 'returned' to life within Mortis' borders, which dulled all the excitement of a true fight. It had been over two hundred years since the country's last true war against Timberan, and the baron had already been a decomposing ghoul by then. Time passed quicker for immortals, but the weight of boredom never lessened. So great was his ennui that he had decayed into a skeleton revenant inhabiting his suit of armor.

The baron had been in the process of transitioning into a ghost when the Roundtable finally grew bored enough to authorize raids against the Wyld. The pleasing memory of blood on his dusty hands had immediately roused him from his slumber, at which point he had enlisted in southern raids. Fighting tribal werescales in the south had proved a welcome distraction, but not quite as much as he had hoped.

So when High Inquisitor Torquemada and his new goddess convinced the Roundtable to send a detachment to support Valentine in a secret military mission, the baron had immediately volunteered and converted to the new faith as one of Lady Hel's Champions. A goddess sponsoring a war on foreign borders was a breath of fresh air in Mortis.

Baron Cortez had thus boldly crossed the Lavaland border, claimed the first city he found, and seized its Altar in Lady Hel's name. The thunderous steps of his horse's hooves on foreign soil and the exciting sight of the magmorians' capital had been worth all the wait.

Alas, his excitement had now turned into frustration. While his undead cavalry might as well have been sitting ducks, the Valentinian aerial corps got to fight a valiant battle in the sky and their infantry fiercely defended their siege engines from what appeared to be giant hairless boars ridden by werelings. He would have gladly joined the latter fight and tasted the blood of his foes had his superior officer not ordered him to stand down.

"The wait is killing me!" the baron complained. "We should reinforce our allies on the hills and slaughter those uppity animals!"

"Patience," Margraves Boltro said. The ancient lich and priest of Lady Hel was a gaunt, skeletal figure wearing old, tattered crimson robes, a dusty beard that was somehow still attached to his bony jawline, and a scepter. Unfortunately, he was also the baron's superior in Mortis' undead aristocracy. "Your task lies elsewhere."

Baron Cortez grumbled in annoyance, but the laws of Mortis demanded that he show deference to his elder.

The goddess thankfully smiled upon him; for while Salamandra's defenders had managed to take out a few catapults and trebuchets, most of the Valentinian cannons continued to shell the city walls. Focused volley after volley struck stone until they opened up a crack, then a breach in the western wall. A small hole barely wide enough to let a few soldiers in had formed.

This was their chance.

"Their walls are down," Margraves Boltro said, cold light flickering in his empty eye sockets. "Your time has come, Baron. Phantom Steps!"

Light erupted from the cleric's staff and imbued the entire undead cavalry with unhallowed power. Mist swirled around their ghostly horses' hooves.

"Let the reaping begin!" Cortez shouted as he raised his sword. "Onward!"

Most undead were stiff with fear or enthusiasm, so his troops descended from the hills in utter silence. They charged after Cortez while Margrave Boltro oversaw them from his command post and blanketed them in defensive spells.

Unlike undisciplined living cavalry forces, Mortis' troops worked with the kind of focus only the undead could muster. Their mounts obeyed their riders without a sound and rushed towards the breach in a properly ordered column. They showed no fear of the magma moat nor apprehension at the coming battle.

Baron Cortez rode at the vanguard and smirked upon spotting magmorians soldiers immediately struggling to plug the breach with steel shields. A futile gesture, for his charge would shatter their defenses and let his troops flank the defenders on the walls. His horse floated above the magma moat thanks to Margrave Boltro's spell, allowing him and his wild cavalry to leap over the flames on their way to the breach.

This.

This was what he had been missing for centuries!

Then a flash of bright light blinded him, and a white wall appeared where the hole should have been.

Cortez would have blinked if he still had eyelids. Instead, his horse tripped on a pile of gold and sent him crashing onto gemstones frozen in ice. He caught a glimpse of a ceiling instead of a sky above his head and a candelabra rather than a sun. He struggled to rise up to see that most of his army was gone. The small contingent closest to him had been trapped inside what appeared to be some kind of castle's treasure vault… and it wasn't uninhabited.

A great white dragon was glaring down on him, resting atop his treasure. A group of ape-like werelings surrounded the undead horsemen from all sides, wielding sharp weapons.

"Minion Bernard, do my eyes deceive me…" the dragon looked at Cortez menacingly. "Or is there a thief in my hoard chamber?"

"There is one, Your Imperial Majesty," the ape replied, his axe sharp and ready.

Oh.

Uh oh.

"It's a trap!" Baron Cortez shouted to his disoriented troops. "It's a tra–"

The dragon tossed Baron Cortez against a wall with a swing of his tail, reminding the undead of another sensation he had long forgotten.

Pain.

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