Grimoires and Gunsmoke

Duchess Vyrrasha tilted her head while the dragonkin scanned the skies with her piercing golden eyes. She seemed to try to bore a hole in the sky with an apparent look of disdain before finally huffing in agitation and striding through the bustling encampment she set out to inspect.

The air was thick with the sounds of construction as levy men, knights, and laborers worked together to reinforce the walls of what was the beginnings of a bunker. Every once in a while, the crackle of magic, coupled with thunderous crashes, rang out as construction and earth mages did their best to speed up the process.

Everywhere the Duchess looked, she saw exhausted men and women running around to perform their new duties. The base itself was one of many massive sprawls of tents and temporary buildings quickly transforming into underground complexes, all of which were under her command.

“S-S’cuse me ma’am!” An exhausted levy man groaned as he stumbled past her, carrying boxes stacked higher than he could reasonably see past.

Vyrrasha’s protective entourage gripped their blades intently, glowering at the man. The only thing that kept the laborer's head attached to their shoulders was the seemingly impassive look on the Duchess’ face, along with their raised hand, which indicated that they were to stand down.

A flaming huff left Vyrrasha’s snout as she glared indignantly at the filthy laborer as he shuffled past her. The Duchess shook her head before continuing her own pace towards the commander's tent, unable to believe the lack of decorum amongst the people in the face of their superior. However, Despite her ruthless nature, Vyrrasha wasn’t so undignified and petty to stoop so low as to punish some poor wretch for the mere offense of arduous labor.

It was another point of contention she would have to raise with this camp's general. Seeing the rather unprecedented move of the men and women who harbored insignificant standing discarding their armor in favor of more practical attire was… interesting. Champions, Knights, and ranked warriors worked alongside the common folk, toiling away with picks or shovels.

Even the mages faired no better. Their hands were covered in the glow of arcane energy instead of filth, but they still tended to the same tasks. She had been the one to order that every base, camp, and outpost be turned subterranean, but Vyrrasha still couldn’t help but raise an eyebrow at the method used to accomplish her will.

The order raised eyebrows and sparked heated debates among her ground commanders, to the point Vyrrasha had initially questioned the wisdom of such a drastic change in tactics. However, she declared the order a noble decree that could not be disobeyed.

No matter what argument her generals had made, regardless of how compelling they were, The duchess would not entertain any dissent. No one else could see it, but they were locked into a battle of death with no hope of help from their precious Empire. Everyone except Vyrrasha could see they had intended everyone in these damnable lands to be a sacrifice. An offering like peasants laying a babe to sate a feral wyvern, all for the sake of seeing how these strange new invaders fought.

The Duchess didn’t blame them, however. The people of these lands, even her own officers and officials, were sheltered from the fact that the royal family was only royal in name. Conniving, deceptive, and manipulative snakes whose only redeeming quality and claim to legitimacy was the blood that flowed through their veins, and even then, Vyrrasha thought it rancid.

Vyrrasha's lips curled into a sneer as she thought of the Empire's so-called leaders. Those inbred stillborns had thrown her to the wolves and incompetent allies that weren’t even beholden to her commander. Sure, she was given command of a decent amount of imperial dragons and ground drakes, but what good would that be if her flanks weren’t protected?

It was obvious they had set her up to fail while simultaneously her just enough to see how these otherworldly invaders fought against a determined enemy. That foul bastard Varian also knew that the Duchess was no fool and would heed battle reports from that curr, Korthax’s ill-fated venture across the rift, and note the unprecedented caution in the Empire's subsequent actions.

And to make matters worse, The Duchess had just received word that she had apparently sworn absolute allegiance to her… Emperor and had offered to make the entirety of the Savage lands her dominion to defend. It was, of course, Varian’s uncouth plot to prevent any… unwanted actions from one of his most potent political rivals and even as far as forcing her entire Family into this damnable hell hole.

Her younglings included.

The message had been loud and clear. Vyrrasha and her kin were to be the sacrificial lambs, meant to buy time and information for the Empire at the cost of their lives. The Duchess's claws dug into her palms as she clenched her fists, suppressing the urge to unleash a torrent of flame in her frustration. She knew that any sign of weakness or dissent would be swiftly exploited by those within arms reach who wanted to put a knife in her back.

However, at this current moment, her political downfall was not the most pressing matter she had to tend to. The issue of surviving the looming storm was her number one priority, especially when she and her generals had seized upon one fact. These foreign invaders had contested a celestial dragon and its entourage in aerial combat.

Such a feat was not only extremely rare but also almost unheard of outside of legends for everyone other than the much longer-lived races.

Regardless, the implications of such a report were terrifying if true. Losing control of their airspace spelled absolute disaster for ground forces. Their tactics revolved heavily around maintaining air superiority and using their dragons and wyverns to dismantle their enemies systematically.

If they lose the air, what hope will their formations have in light of the enemy's air power? They had to at least contest it, or else their ground forces would be worse than useless, and they couldn’t afford to throw away any resources or manpower.

They had to adapt. And so, they dug.

Just outside the commander's tent, Vyrrasha came to an abrupt halt, causing her escort to take a protective bubble around her as she looked up towards the sky. Above her eyes caught the sight of the hordes of wyverns soaring at breakneck speeds into the air, accompanied by pillars of light that shot past them.

Each pillar of densely packed magic arced through the skies, manipulated by Vyrrasha’s very own family. The young Seraphic dragons of her house kept their iridescent orbs pointed upwards as they felt the threads of Mystics connect them to the group cast magic and guided the deadly beams towards their designated targets.

This system was as marvel as it was useless. There were no beings capable of connecting or manipulating magic to such a degree other than the mana-sensitive Seraphic dragons. And there had been no need so outside of the particular scenario of guiding magic into a target out of their reach. Because who in their right mind would bother with this other than Vyrrasha? She only needed it to hit targets that were supposedly out of reach of any of her kind. Which in itself was madness to the degree of being laughable.

Ridiculous…

Squinting towards the starry heavens, Vyrrasha's superior draconic eyes scanned each spot of light until they landed on the largest of her Seraphic dragon cousins who circled high above, serving as targets for this exercise.

The two poor souls were always bitter that they were passed up for the honor of being the head of houses, but the hot-headed temperament of purebloods never ended well when in charge of… Well, anything really. So the honor had been passed down to her, a Dragonkin that held the blood of royals and gods.

The very same blood that ran in the veins of that filthy degenerate Varian.

As her face soured when she thought upon the source of all her misery and misfortunes, a voice suddenly cut through her thoughts.

"My Lady Duchess," came the respectful address.

Vyrrasha turned to see a sun elf man with long pitch-black hair that was tied into a ponytail kneeling before her.

"Your Grace," the man continued, his voice filled with deference, "I am deeply honored by your presence here today.” He raised his head to show two deep silver eyes and a trim, rough beard that showed he had little time to groom himself. “To have you personally inspect our progress... it is a privilege beyond measure."

Regarding the elf coolly with her impassive draconic features, Vyrrasha harrumphed at the man before flicking her hand in an upward motion. "Rise, General Aelindra," she commanded. "Have the subterranean defenses met our specifications?"

General Aelindra rose to his full height and did his best to present a dignified presence despite his unkept state. He then looked at his aides hesitantly before bowing his head in deference.

“Right away, my lady…” He said, motioning for the Duchess to follow him before leading her inside the heavily guarded command tent.

Inside, a massive battle map sprawled across a table, detailing the entire battlespace from the rift to Aldenshore. "Your Grace, at the core of our strategy, is a vast network of underground tunnels and chambers," Aelindra began respectfully as the battle map hummed to life, projection forests, roadways, unit locations, and estimated lines where they would hold.

"Our geomancers and laborers are creating connections between each subterranean base, outpost, and potential point of contact.” The general began pointing at the 3d representation with his finger, causing each to highlight almost telepathically. “We have theorized that the enemy would be stalled before they get to our actual lines, but should they break through…”

The valley that contained the literary of roads leading to the heart of friendly territory was suddenly covered in fog. “We have established small, heavily fortified positions, with trenches and tunnels throughout the forests that have easy access to each road.” He said, standing proud. “These networks will be our lifeblood, allowing swift movement of troops, supplies, and mages without interference from enemy wyverns or other air assets."

“We hope to allow mages and mana-capable warriors to launch deadly attacks along key supply routes and roads while levy men engage the enemy en masse, bogging down the enemy with bodies while making our positions difficult to defeat.” The general then looked around towards his aides, who seemed equally confident in his presentation. “We believe that this will force the enemy to engage these trench systems or be threatened by their mere existence and buy us valuable time to win the air war."

Vyrrasha hummed with interest but raised a concern. "Putting fortifications and trenches in the middle of nowhere makes our people sitting ducks. I'm not fond of wasting resources so frivolously," she said, waving dismissively.

Aelindra nodded. "We've accounted for that too, Your Grace.” He said, motioning to one of his aides, an older human woman, who stepped forward and saluted while bowing her head in deference.

The aid remained silent, though. The human felt a lump in her throat now that she was in front of someone as terrifying and notorious as Duchess Vyrrasha. She had learned about her short temper and vicious tongue, and now that this aid needed to present herself, she suddenly found that the cat had her tongue.

“Y-Your grace… The um… The false encampments– I mean..” She stammered as she looked to her general for help, who gave her an encouraging nod. “... Your grace, w-we have created false encampments and illusory forces in strategically insignificant locations while simultaneously camouflaging real ones.” She said after finally managing to gather her wits. “By utilizing our geomancers, shamans, and mystics, we aimed to sow confusion among the enemy ranks during their advance and lead them down dead ends instead of towards important logistical hubs we are building in the towns of Brakenmere or Glennsworth."

The Duchess remained quiet, patiently listening to the woman as she gave her poorly executed presentation, but Vyrassha still listened intently. Her eyes narrowed at the aide as she dissected the plan…It was unconventional and far from traditional warfare most of her peerage would be familiar with, but after her campaign against the Tauri, Vyrrasha could see the value.

There was much to be desired, but it addressed their vulnerabilities against an unknown enemy with potential aerial superiority.

However, something was still bothering the Duchess.

It was like a nagging feeling gnawed at Vyrrasha's mind as she contemplated what she knew of the enemy from the literal plague of otherworlds that roamed the countryside. Over her multiple millennia of life, she had overseen countless wars and subjugations, and experience had taught her that the most important aspect of war was indeed protecting your logistics.

However, there was another aspect that most people in leadership seemed to forget, either waving it off as insignificant or beneath them due to standing. But Vyrrasha had learned firsthand that morale was the second most important factor in war, especially when it came to the conscription of the common folk. No matter how well you craft your strategy or supply your troops, it would all be meaningless if your forces weren’t motivated to fight.

You could be mere days from victory, and everything could fall apart in the blink of an eye if the soldiers carrying your banner lacked the will to see the fight through.

Vyrrasha’s piercing gaze remained fixated on the aide as if boring a hole through her skull as she considered the state of the men and women in this camp. She soon turned her gaze back to General Aelindra and spoke with a note of concern that was rare for one like the Duchess. "What of morale, General? How motivated are our men to execute these orders?"

General Aelindra seemed taken aback by the question as his mouth opened and closed like a fish gasping in the air. His hesitation wasn’t lost on the Duchess and spoke volumes of a situation far worse than Vyrrasha had realized.

"Your Grace, I…” He paused, trying to find the best way to answer this question as he shifted uncomfortably/ “I… must confess that the measures we've taken to keep the levimen in line have been severe," he began in a strained voice.

The man in question seemed to gulp as his hand scratched at his beard subconsciously visibly. "We've… we’ve resorted to beatings and ration deprivation, your grace… Specifically of those who speak of disobedience or show laziness.”

The Duchess’ eye visibly twitched under the answer as she stared at her general.

It was just as she feared. They were cultivating an army that would rout at the first sign of difficulty, and Vyrrasha was more than sure that the battles ahead would be far more challenging than even she could predict.

After a few long minutes of silence, General Aelndira’s liege finally spoke. “We'll need to make some… changes, General." Her voice had a twinge of disappointment, but she still held a steady and calm temperament as she issued new directives. “From now on, the men and women of this military will only be flogged for overt insubordination and stop revoking their rations.”

The tent had become deathly silent as the officers and aides gave each other a skeptical look, but Vyrrasha wasn’t done. She held a single clawed finger to her snout, tapping her jaw as she thought more about the issue. "What is their current pay?"

Unsure how to respond, General Aelindra looked at his aides as if trying to confirm he was hearing the same thing they were. To have a Lord or Lady interject themselves into the discipline of one's own troops was unheard of, and he somewhat took offense to it.

Nevertheless, he straightened himself out and replied, "Including combat pay, the levied are making 50 copper a month, Your Grace."

A hum left Vyrrasha’s mouth as her eyes darted to each tense face in the tent. Each one of them spoke of how they thought of these new directives. But the Duchess cared very little of what they thought as she continued to give instructions. "Increase their pay to 5 silver a month for each of the levied, 10 silver for anyone of the elevated station." She said to mouths falling and eyes going wide.

Everyone seemed stunned at the order, including Vyrrasha's guards, but she wasn’t done yet. Before anyone could get a word, she wagged her finger in the air. “As a matter of fact? Pay the families of the fallen 1 gold coin a year for 10 years.” She ordered as she began to pace.

“M-My Grace! You-” The general's eyes widened, and he began to protest, but Vyrrasha held up a hand to stop them.

"Stop. I’m not so daft to expect you to pay them with money you do not possess," she stated, pointing a manicured talon at the General. “I will pay them out of my own coffers.”

Vyrrasha's gaze then hardened. "I want to ensure that even the most lowly and vile to stand and FIGHT!."

Aelindra looked stunned by the declaration, he thought the Duchess was touched by madness as he extended his hand to speak sense into her. "Your Grace," Aelindra said, his voice filled shaking hesitaiton, "You can’t be serious? The sheer amount of coin required would–"

“Be silent, knave!” Vyrrasha hissed in outrage at being questioned by her subordinate. "The expense is nothing compared to what we stand to lose if we fail, General! A well-paid, well-fed army fights harder and longer than one driven by fear alone!" She snapped, criticizing his methods as her eyes narrowed at those gathered as if dissecting them. "We cannot afford to be stingy or reluctant to invest in our own success. Our situation is far more dire than any of you realize."

She paused, her gaze sweeping across the room, noting the tension in her subordinates' postures. "Let me remove all pretense about our relationship; you are to do as I command, or I shall have you gagged and bound as feed for my drakes!” She hissed in unbridled fury, causing several officers to shift uncomfortably.

Vyrrasha's eyes flashed with unbridled fury as heads lowered from such a visceral reaction. The Dragonkin’s plumage flared, and her claws ended entirely as she did her best not to take the heads of those around her.

"Let us not delude ourselves," the Duchess continued in a low and dangerous tone. "The Empire has abandoned us! There will be no reinforcements, counter-offensive, or mythical hero to save the day!” Searing flames blew out of her feathered snout as she growled. “We are fighting for our very survival and should act as such!”

Seeing that everyone had been sufficiently cowed, Vyrrasha straightened her posture and retracted her claws with a harrumph as she looked down on her people in a haughty yet regal manner. "General Aelindra, see to it that my will is done. Implement these changes immediately." Her voice rang out, clear and commanding,

General Aelindra, recognizing that the Duchess won't take even a hint of dissent, went down on one knee and deeply bowed. "As you command, Your Grace. It shall be done." He answered, making sure his tone was full of deep respect.

It didn’t matter what he thought about these changes; he knew if he gave one more voice of complaint or the Duchess caught a hint of dissent, his head would soon depart from his shoulders. He didn’t quite believe they were fully abandoned or on their own, but it wasn’t his place to agree with his new directives. He only needed to carry them out.

The Duchess didn't even acknowledge Aelindra as he prostrated himself. Instead, her piercing gaze swept across the room, taking in the other officers and nobles, silently demanding they do the same.

One by one, they, too, sank to their knees, bowing their heads in a show of submission to her authority. Vyrrasha allowed the moment to linger as the weight of her presence settled over the room like a heavy mantle.

Then, with a haughty huff that spoke volumes of her disdain, she snapped around on her heels, causing her cloak to billow behind her, and marched out. Her escort gave their own sinister and hateful glares before turning and chasing after the Duchess, leaving a wake of awed silence.