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But their foe was more than a match for that speed. On the rugged hills ahead, surrounding the city beyond, countless forts dotted the countryside. Even now, the armies of the Great Chu were mustering to storm against their castle. Already Argrave’s forces were outnumbered, both in the land and in the sky. The assault from divinity had faded, but it was sure to come again.

Defending the castle was not man alone. Law’s Justiciars stood on the ramparts like gargantuan white gargoyles, swords at the ready. Rook and his divine servants—daggers, possessed by spirits—hunted down anything and everything attempting to come near the castle that was no ally to them. With those two deities guarding this place, their position could not easily be broken.

All that said, Argrave would not personally oversee the war effort any longer. In this battle he’d been nothing more than a spellcaster—a potent one, he’d grant himself, but a spellcaster all the same. He had another role altogether, and one that suited him far better. Anneliese would remain behind to command the forces Vasquer, with Galamon commanding all of Veiden. Sometimes the best thing a king could do, Argrave reasoned, was delegate tasks to those best suited to perform them.

Argrave’s job was Emperor Ji Meng.

The emperor stepped back onto the land of his country, looking back at the now-melting frozen ocean in a survey of the battlefield. His eyes looked high at the fortress in front of them, judging. Some twisted part of him hoped the emperor was impressed if only so it’d make him more cooperative. But he said nothing, and focused on Argrave for his direction.

“My man will get in contact with the commanders we’ve just done battle with. Once we’ve established a channel of communication, we’ll arrange a meeting of some kind with those who’re willing. For now, we wait, we reinforce, and we react.” Argrave looked around the coastline.

“Is he dependable, your man?” Ji Meng questioned.

Argrave nodded. “He commanded the wyverns in the battle against your navy. An S-rank spellcaster.”

“He’ll need to be rather dependable. You’ve seen for yourself the formidability of Great Chu defenses. At sea, the Great Chu can falter. At land…” the emperor inhaled proudly. “You’re outnumbered. You’re attacking, rather than defending. Have you heard of the Battle of Red Valley?”

Argrave shook his head.

“Great Chu forces faced perhaps the greatest barbarian king in the history of our nation. Ten miles he chased our army, through a long and desolate valley far to the north. Hundreds of craters were left behind, much like so,” the emperor waved at the blast left behind by their fortress. “Half a million died. Our enemies comprised seven eighths of that figure.”

“The idea, lest you forget, is to establish communication before we have something like that on our hands,” Argrave reminded him, unimpressed.

“I merely sought to reinforce why this is a good arrangement for us,” Emperor Ji Meng shook his head. “My honor guard—they’ll be joining me, as you promised?”

“They’ve been informed of the plan. They’ll join you when you need to look imperial,” Argrave shrugged. “No need for you to speak with them too much, I should think.”

Ji Meng studied Argrave’s people as they worked. “Your trust is hard-earned.”

Argrave shook his head. “I trust the trustworthy easily. From what I understand, honest emperors end up with their heads dashed against the wall. You’re rather too ancient for your survival to have been dumb luck.”

“Then I believe you would live a long time on the throne. Do you agree?” Ji Meng noted.

Argrave smiled. “I plan to live forever.”

#####

A scribe put down his writing instrument, reviewing the text frantically. When he was content it was without error, he rolled it until it was wound enough to fit into a bamboo tube. He fit the letter inside, then put two lids atop the tube that slotted in as if designed to fit there. These lids hummed with magic. Next, the scribe walked over to an apparatus in the floor. He lifted it up, where a hollow portion was just the right size for his bamboo tube. He dropped it in, closed the lid, then placed his hand upon it and willed magic inside the device.

The bamboo tube shot away, moving at speeds unimaginable at the behest of wind magic. It travelled through a long pipe beneath the well-paved streets of the Great Chu. Cities and cities it passed, transferring to various other pipes without losing speed whatsoever. Then, finally, it slowed, before coming to a rigid stop in another machine rather like the one it had come from. Here, the grass was green and vibrant, the trees full of fruit, and the vast city around brimming of life. It was a far cry from the cold south that it had come from.

A bell rung, signaling that a letter had arrived. Someone pulled back the door, grabbed the tube, and extracted the letter within with remarkable efficiency. Its reader did not read the text before she began walking with purpose to deliver it. She passed through a palatial estate in the heart of a city, where half a thousand people worked to support a very wealthy family.

After weaving through this estate, the letter’s carrier entered a courtyard. Eight waterfalls fed eight separate streams that wound through a garden of vibrant fruit-bearing trees. At the center, where the streams converged, there was a peaceful pond full of koi fish and water lilies. In the center of this pond, there was a circular pavilion, and a single man reading while seated cross-legged.

“Master Zen,” the one bearing the letter greeted, coming to bow humbly and offering the paper to him.

Governor Zen looked up from his book. He was a man of Chu ethnicity and heritage through and through, and somewhat small in size. He had a sharp goatee that made him seem quite handsome, and wore elegant clothes that enhanced that to a great degree. He wore spectacles that made his dark eyes seem quite large.

“A missive?” He set down book gently upon the table before him. “From where?”

“The south, master,” the servant bowed deeper. “From the letter pipes.”

Hearing it came from the pipes, Governor Zen reached out to take the documents without rushing. He read through it slowly and deliberately, the servant waiting by to receive his command when it came.

“Send a message to all the generals in this province,” Zen said calmly as he rolled the letter back. “Tell them to gather up every able-bodied troop they can, and mass them. Should the imperial court request that they mobilize, they are to ignore that command.”

“At once, master.” The servant made to leave.

“Ah,” Zen raised his finger, and that alone was enough to make the message-bearer freeze. “There’s another message. A message for the people. Tell them…” he smiled slyly. “Tell that the emperor’s ship has returned.”

#####

Argrave stood on the coast deep into the night. Anneliese stood by his side, and he stared at the person across from him. Sataistador, god of war, looked down upon Argrave like a proud father.

“Here you stand, on new soil, King Argrave.” The huge man crossed his arms. “I’m rather pleased you’ve made it here. I truly hope it won’t be long before I can stop holding myself back.”

“There was a good moment several hours ago,” Argrave chided him. “You were notably absent.”

Sataistador tsked. “That table was too crowded for a proper meal. If I reveal myself once, the Qircassian Coalition will be able to find me again easier. There’ll be battles enough for my joining in the future.”

Argrave decided to move past the issue. “We’re trying to get a solid grasp on the military of the Great Chu. We have our foothold. So long as things go well, we’ll have our first conversation with their leadership.”

“They’ve seen that ship—the Sea Dragon,” Sataistador said, walking closer. “If any of their scouts lays eyes upon the emperor, the imperial court will grasp your intentions at once. Grand Eunuch Hao is the one in control of the imperial court by this point, ruling as regent. That’s the last bit of information I’ve managed to learn about its inner workings. Doubtless you’ve seen how ruthless the Great Chu is willing to be in defense of their territory.”

“We have,” Anneliese nodded. “Things are progressing on our end. Do you have a plan for the assault on the sky tower?”

“I do,” nodded Sataistador. “You need to occupy the Palace of Heaven. Only then can we safely assault the sky tower.”

“Lira said we need a good point of assault to attack the sky tower. I’m a little ignorant about geography for this region,” Argrave admitted. “Where is this palace, and why is it so important?”

“The Palace of Heaven crowns the highest mountain in central Great Chu.” Sataistador looked northward. “While taller mountains exist elsewhere, they surround the great basin that much the Great Chu resides within, and are quite far from the sky tower by consequence. The fortress has been entirely subverted by the Coalition. It serves as the landing point for hundreds of deities and their servants alike.”

Argrave narrowed his eyes. “Sounds like precisely the point that’d be best-defended, and by extension, most obvious to assault.”

“Precisely. And it’s where Law and his Justiciars will ascend to do battle directly. He’s rather fond of a head-on approach. I will admit, his servants are formidable.” The god of war waved between Argrave and himself. “You and I, meanwhile… I’m not overfond of allowing Qircassia to slink away into his realm. We’ll approach from above, cut off their retreat.”

“We,” Argrave noted. “You want me. To come with you. And from above, somehow—you do realize that the top of the tower is forty-five thousand feet off the ground, and firing off like an erupting volcano every so often?”

Sataistador walked closer, then leaned down. “Allow me to inform you of something,” he said, quietly and slowly. When next he spoke, it was rapidly and with great force. “This is not the first time I’ve fought with Erlebnis, nor Qircassia’s Coalition. Killing an ancient god of their stature is not at all equivalent to fighting a mortal empire, a mortal king. We must strike unpredictably, strike hard, and do things that have never before been done at every turn. Only then do we have the slightest chance of slaying even one of these two.”

Sataistador leaned away, taking a deep breath. “What you do with this empire isn’t my concern. I only require you to make it to the Palace of Heaven and occupy it in whatever manner you so choose. I will say…” he stroked his long red beard. “The Great Chu have built many fortifications. None are quite like the Palace of Heaven. As its name suggests, it’s meant to withstand the might of the heavens. I tried to take it once before, to claim the honor of slaying an emperor of the Great Chu taking shelter there.”

“Tried?” Argrave repeated.

“And failed,” Sataistador admitted. “The Qircassian Coalition gained it through Erlebnis’ subterfuge and treachery without spilling a drop of blood. You might try the same, given your history, and I’d even suggest it. Dozens of gods I’d call equals have thrown themselves against its walls. All failed, and some even perished—and this was without the divine and their children manning the walls. But without it, I’ll admit…” he looked up at the great tower of clouds. “Without it, we’ve not a chance of fighting Kirel Qircassia, god of land and sky, with Erlebnis at his side.”

“What makes it so formidable?” Anneliese asked.

“Ask another,” Sataistador shrugged. “Or find out personally. I care not to relive my failures.”

The god of war turned and walked away. At some point, his figure faded into the night.