To wage war against Arascus and to actually, personally fight against Arascus are two completely different things. The former is to compete against a master of the craft. To treat it is as a race against an impossible opponent is to be mistaken though, for Arascus does not wage war in as oppressive or terrible method as Kassandora. He simply plays the game so well that it is stunning and beyond comprehension. Move after move is laid in manners that, although understandable with the blessing of hindsight, are completely baffling in the moment. Yet that is to wage war, to battle against the culmination of his state with all the power of mine. In terms of statesmen, there are little who can even pretend to be on the same board as him, much less at his level.

  To actually personally fight against Arascus is an exercise in misery. The God of Pride is simply a wall of seemingly limitless vitality. Whereas he does not possess power like his daughters, such as Anassa, Irinika or Olephia, who can immediately cause wide-scale damage that exterminates whole armies, I would still say that it would be easier, or at least more feasible, to try and defeat them.

  The blades he pulls from mid-air are simple blades, they have been analysed and broken down of course, rarely do we see enchantments or magic weaved into them. It is not that it is impossible, Arascus has been confirmed to summon individual items too, there even seems to be a preference for certain weapons so it is imagined that he can pick and choose what is supposed. The internal workings of powers are closely guarded of course, whereas we can look at the external presentations, the simple fact is that we don’t know the internals. How Baalka manipulates her poisons, how Anassa appears in multiple locations at once, even how Elassa weaves magic on such an intuitive degree, are all questions that are taboo to ask.

  Yet even though it is speculated he can pick and choose, rarely does he do so. Almost uniquely, Arascus aims to turn any direct confrontation into a test of attrition where his sheer stamina will simply win out. The God’s body, likewise, is incredibly tough on a physical level. My axe has sliced down to his bone before, Fortia has managed to launch her spear through him, but he simply refuses to be put down. Most of us, nearing defeat, will simply retreat as his blades follow. Although he is part of the club that can fly, his fashion of floating through the air is particularly slow.

  So there is this stalemate that is unique when facing Arascus. He does not kill quickly, whether it is because he refuses to or has a sadistic streak, I do not know. Fortia is less generous and is sure that he stretches the moment of victory out and has always had that habit. Yet likewise, it is difficult to kill him quickly. It flies in the way of post-Kassandora style of combat, where we aim to seize victory as quickly as possible.

  - Excerpt from “An Unordered Century”, written by Goddess Maisara, of Order.

  Admiral Callaghan stood on the deck of the ship as the final checks were being ran through. His eyes went to the clock, fifteen minutes until launch. The five ships, Salvation Squadron, as the men had started calling them, were already separated from the main eastern Imperial fleet. Captain Sprance had been promoted to an admiral and given command over the western Imperial fleet. Vice-Admiral Akers would stay behind and keep order in the eastern half whilst Callaghan was away. In the north, an unofficial tribute was given to the Salvation Squadron by the men who were staying behind. Akers voice came over the open radio, a total breach of regulation, no one cared at this point. “To your success, to your victory and to your return.”

  The ocean rumbled as cannons fired in unison and splashed into the grey water far to the south. The men in the bridge stood up, Callaghan did with them. The entire crew of the Kassandora that was on the deck stopped their work. Enough men for a small town stood like silent statues as they salutes the explosions in the distance. Another volley came. Once again, dark-grey waters were launched into the air, turning white for a moment.

  The Kassandora, pride of the Imperial fleet, the Hallin, who had volunteered to defend a fellow nation of the Empire, and the three Lubskan ships, the Zawitz, Kaczaw and Gnydia that had volunteered to run a rescue mission that could as well be a suicide operation before a single shot was fired, all floated in a row. Everyone knew what they were doing, Callaghan had even said that if the crew wanted to swap to another ship and not risk it, then they were free to do so. No one did.

  The final volley came and water splashed up again. It launched a dozen metres into the air and then splashed back down. The ocean, with a cloudless yet grey sky and crashing yet unstormed waters, rippled out. Akers’ voice came through the open comms once again. “I will hold this half of the Eparika until you return with the Goddess on board.” Callaghan felt a lump in his throat. “Because I am certain you will. Akers out.” The communication was shut off and Callaghan finally ended the salute. The bridge crew followed his command. The deafening blare of the horn ended it.

  And Callaghan stared at the clock. Eleven minutes until set off. He was supposed to radio in on the dot and then seek final confirmation. That was a first. Then again, it would be, the Empire was probably still scrambling for solutions on how to circumvent the issue of Ashen Skies. No one really wanted to send a fleet in, much less the Kassandora of all ships.

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  Callaghan looked through the glass of his bridge to the Zawitz, off the Kassandora’s starboard. The changes Elassa had done were obviously there. The sphere in the ships back, almost melded into the armour where the pair of magicians from Arcadia were explaining to the ship’s own wielders of that art once again how to work the shields. The massive turrets of the ship, two at the front, one at the back, had their guns slightly raised. The smaller guns on the side were much the same, although Callaghan hoped that they wouldn’t see any combat. Shelling the coast was still acceptable but he had no intention to fight under the Ashen Skies to the south. All across the ship, massive spotlights had been fitted. General Ekkerson reported a lack of sunlight and total darkness when the clouds came.

  Maybe Ekkerson found it only a minor hindrance but he was apparently fighting in mountains that had become parodies of ants nests with all the bunkers and tunnels within them. Of course the man would say something like that. He wasn’t in charge of floating fortresses which could crash into each other. The spotlights were less for scouting enemies and more to make sure that the ships could make each other out, they were pointed in all directions. As many flares as could be fitted into storage were there too. The men kept on running through their routines.

  Everyone had a job assigned to them up until the final moments. The Fleet-Admiral knew what it was like to wait, he would not inflict that torture on any of the crew. Callaghan’s job was to observe and pay attention and watch for mistakes. In other words, Callaghan’s job was to be the one waiting.

  It was the longest wait of his life. Callaghan knew he had prepared too early. He already to reach for the bottle in his captain’s desk and down it. “Time is up.” He said, picking up the headset he always used for radio communications. The thing had no sound leakage whatsoever, it was better to make that the men didn’t know the extent of the clusterfuck that was internal communications between high command. “Patch me through to central.”

  “Calling now!” The Kassandora’s radio operator shouted. Captain Smith, an Allian, one day he would get his own ship. Callaghan picked up his own headset and held one to his ear, Iliyal had instilled that in him. Officers were to always keep one ear on the world, no matter if they were on the radio, in a battle or asleep. There was a buzz, the first notes of the Imperial anthem and then they cut off instantly. With all the talk that had been going, Callaghan started to recognize the voices by name. He knew the tut and the sound of drinking water that Claire always did before she started any call. Another Allian woman, whether she was skilled or not didn’t matter. Her claim to fame was the fact she was self-taught in Doschian, Rancais and Lubskan, and had her native Allian to boot.

  “Central comms.” Claire said and paused. “Just a moment Fleet Admiral, I’ve been asked to pass on when you called.” Callaghan just stood there with his headset mounted over one ear. Rarely were there delays in the bureaucracy. Rarely. Ever so rarely that it was borderline unheard of. In the military, Iliyal had once joked during a speech that a delay meant that high command didn’t know what the fuck was going on and that they were panicking, and to never show panic to your men. The first step of surety always needed to be manifesting the image of surety. No one would dive into hell after a trembling man.

  Callaghan did not tremble, nor did he panic. He just stood there in silence, one hand still pressing headset to his ear, the other listening to the utter silence of the crew. Eventually, even he could not take it. “Fleet Admiral Callaghan to Central, have we lost signal?”

  “No sir.” Claire replied in her usual chipper tone. “We have not with you, we’re just trying to get a connection now.”

  “Do I have an estimate on how long?”

  “It’s to a small vessel and signal isn’t strong.” Claire replied. Callaghan stood there, not knowing what to say. To Iliyal, he would know to wait. To Strategic Command… well, that was to Iliyal too. Callaghan’s phone vibrated in his pocket. He didn’t check it in front of the men. It wasn’t professional and it wouldn’t do. Officially, phones were banned for the operation, unofficially, everyone had permission to have a private talk with their family on break.

  What a fucking disaster.

  He just stood there, waiting. “Who are we awaiting the delay from?” That at least, he could know. If it was some local bureaucrat, then Callaghan would make sure that he would never be allowed anywhere near the government again.

  “Sir.” Claire said slowly, her voice awed. “Did your phone just ring?”

  Absolute disaster.

  The message was clear. It wasn’t his family checking up on him or a pre-war sweetheart who had just randomly called. It had been High Command. “Yes.” Callaghan replied slowly.

  “It will ring again, I advise you to answer it this time.” Claire said. “That’s everything Admiral, Central Command Out.” The connection dropped. A few moments later, Callaghan’s phone did buzz again. The rest of the bridge pretended not to be interested whatsoever in what he was doing. Unknown number.

  “This is Fleet Admiral Callaghan, ready with the Salvation Squadron.” He answered and said. And suddenly, the rest of the bridge didn’t even bother to pretend that they weren’t listening in. No one talked with their family like that, this obviously wasn’t a private heart-to-heart.

  The voice, he recognised instantly. From the news, sometimes from meetings, from the speeches, from everywhere. Never through his phone. “This is Arascus.”

  Oh.

  Callaghan just stood there, every eye fixed on him. They would know of course, and they would most likely tell stories about their Fleet Admiral and what a madman he was. He had ignored a call from the Emperor. “Greetings your majesty.” Callaghan said. “I…” He trailed off. He actually trailed off! Well too late now. It was better to explain. “Did not want to bring my phone out on the bridge.”

  Arascus chuckled through the other end. “Do not worry Admiral. It would be worse if you did.” Callaghan just stood there for a moment in awkward silence. Arascus filled the gap. “I assume you are ready for the Ashfront?”

  “Indeed.”

  “The mission is delayed, you are to hold for another two hours. The delay is on our end, it is not your fault.” Callaghan finally allowed himself a sigh of relief. A two hour delay. They had a breakthrough. It would be called off.

  “If I may your majesty.” Callaghan asked. “To know why?”

  And the world crashed again. “A leader who sends his men into hell alone is no leader at all.” Arascus said. “I am coming with you.”