"Quit your prancing about and fight me you witch!" Sir Godard, Captain of the 10th Dragon Knight Squadron roared as he pursued his prey through the skies of York.

It had been not more than ten minutes since he had been roused from his bed by the sounds of alarm bells and distant thunder. He had taken to the skies along with half of his squadron, hastily dragged from their own beds or the beds of whores, not knowing if this was an accident, an attack, or sabotage rendered by some blasted agent of the Royalists.

He'd learned soon enough that it was his second guess that was right. A cavalry raid, Griffins, descending on the first Dragons to respond. But it had to be more than just that. The military docks were alight along their whole length, ships burning at their moorings as crews desperately fought the fires, or in one extreme case, began to cut a burning frigate loose so that it could be cast over cliffs before its gunpowder magazines were lit.

His squadron had broken into wing mate pairs and spread out to offer support to the beleaguered and confused defenders, meanwhile, Sir Godard had turned to the docks, intent on reaching the Flagship.

He had seen them then for the first time, winged forms flitting through the smoke, or jumping from rooftop to rooftop, illuminated by the flames and their own black light. Even as he watched, one raised a bow and loosed a deadly precise arrow against a mage officer roaring orders atop the deck of one of the third raters.

On the docks, a group of armsmen leveled their muskets only to suddenly stagger and turn on one another, screaming in terror and confusion. As many of the men opened fire on their allies as volleyed against their attackers. In the shadow of a nearby building a solitary winged form held a staff high while encircled in glowing runes.

Sir Godard sucked in a breath. Heathen magics. Abomination!

He circled once, approaching the building that the witch was using for cover from the south and loosed a volley of wind arrows. The magically conjured constructs traced a thin line of destruction across the cobblestones of the docks before bursting against the corner of the building.

Snorting, his strike had narrowly missed, the heathen magic user had stumbled from the cloud of pulverized mortar and stonework, struggling to take to the skies with the wings upon their back. He would skewer them!

That was when he had been confronted by this bane of his existence, slashing past him with that accursed spear, forcing him to guard, loosing phantasms to obscure his sight and draw his fire.

This apparition was insufferable, darting about to and fro, always tantalizingly beyond his reach. While his subordinates occupied themselves fighting the Griffin mounted warriors and their winged allies in honorable combat, he was taken for a buffoon! He was Godard the Squall, this demi human abomination should be fleeing before him. But instead, he was being toyed with.

'FEAR ME, DAMN YOU!'

Spurring his Wind Dragon into a dive, he chased the four winged, black clad figure as it raced just below roof level along the streets paralleling the docks. He raised his sword-wand, conjuring a wind spear, hurling the construct into the street below and clicking his tongue with disgust when the apparition evaded. But could it evade this?

Sir Godard leaned forward in his saddle, taking aim ahead of the apparition. A vicious smile spread across his lips as the air collected and compressed down into a point no larger than a musket ball before being released. His wind shell overtook the winged figure and then burst, a storm of compressed air exploding outward in all directions. Windows shattered and shingles peeled away from rooftops in the path of his prey, there was nowhere to run now!

With no place to escape to, and no time to evade, the apparition crashed into the confined bubble of compressed air . . . And dissolved into smoke.

What?! Sir Godard looked about desperately, though he knew not what they were with any certainty, he refused to believe he faced something so insubstantial as a phantom. Darkness flashed across the pale blue of the slowly lightening sky and Sir Godard shielded himself purely by reflex. A blade, the tip of a massive spear slammed into a barrier of wind, the apparition converted the momentum, vaulting into a flip that sent it tumbling past him, evading his countering dervish.

"I'll tear you limb from limb you witch!" Godard raged as he broke back into the chase.

Ahead, another dragon Knight from the 10th Squadron had acquired the same prey and was intent on heading it off. Good, they would take it in their crossfire. The apparition looked to the front, and then back to Godard. 'Yes you witch, this time you die.' A shower of lights and strange glyphs circled the figure before coming to a stop one after another. Some demi human magic? But too slow. Obviously inferior to that possessed by the Founder's blessed people.

A volley of wind arrows formed around Sir Godard and launched themselves forth. At the same time the Dragon Knight to the front mirrored his motions perfectly.

The last Glyph froze, his prey glowed and then began to come apart, braking into dozens of dark winged shapes. Sir Godard raised a hand to shield himself, his spell dissipating as he crashed into the cloud of ravens, feathered wings and clawed talons beating past him.

A rage filled swing of his sword caused the birds to burst into smoke just like the false apparition before them, and then . . . and then . . . The last thing Sir Godard ever saw was a tall stone church tower that had taken the place of the clear skies.

* * *

Whistling softly, Morgiana, Lady of the Spriggans surveyed her handiwork, her Jotun's Spear propped against her shoulder as she hovered in midair. And that was why you didn't mess with the Phantom Queen of the Spriggans. A little bit of stunt flying, some shadow clones, a mirror surface spell, and you had a recipe for pancaked dragon. Admittedly, it was going to be a pain for the locals to dig the carcass out of that church tower.

Strangely, she didn't feel much remorse for her actions. Maybe because of the way the enraged Knight had died. She hadn't killed him, she'd self defensed him. It just happened that with his temperament, it turned out to be fatal.

Though . . . didn't these guys usually fly in pairs . . .

The shadow that suddenly swept over her was her only warning as several tons of lizard and its rider somehow managed to get the drop on her. Impressive all things considered. Spinning about, Jotun's Spear twirled over her head like a baton, coming to block the fire dragon just as its beak like jaws snapped shut.

The Dragon roared as the tip of the spear sank into the roof of its mouth and up through the nasal cavity, wedging its mouth firmly open. The mounted Knight shouted and tried to dislodge her with some sort of wind whip that battered against the shoulder of her Legendary Dark Amalgam Armor and not much else.

"Take a bite out of me will ya?" Morgiana grunted as she leveraged her considerable strength to sink the spear tip further upwards.

Alas, it could be fatal to forget that when dealing with a dragon, the jaws were just as dangerous left open as they were snapped shut. A noxious chemical odor carried on fetid breath clued her in and she kicked loose just as the dragon opened its mouth wider to release a point blank fireball.

Morgiana was quick on her feet and good with her wings, but there were some things even she couldn't evade. Luckily, Don Quixote arrived just in time. The Dragon's man sized fireball collided with a the back of Eugene's armor, washing around it as the armor's special ability Flame Shell was activated for the blink of an eye.

Never one to let an opportunity to go on the offensive slip past, the Salamander General spun around, swinging his two handed executioners blade, the demonic sword Gram, firmly into the Dragon's thick skull.

Seeing her opening, Morgiana shot over him, kicking off from Eugene's shoulder and racing up the dragon's neck to confront the Knight.

Not expecting the tables to turn so quickly, the man got off one fast wind needle, the magic spell slightly denting, but not penetrating the shoulder of Morgiana armor before the Lady of the Spriggans swung her spear around and delivered a skull splitting blow with the weighted butt of her weapon.

It was lights out for him, even if he wasn't killed by the impact, the Knight and his dragon were in no condition to continue. Severely injured, the dragon fell from the sky in a barely controlled descent, coming to lay still, wings propped against the sides of the buildings flanking the narrow street.

As the rush of adrenaline faded, and with it, the endorphin high that had numbed her to fear, Morgiana felt her wings give out on her, only to be caught by her rescuer.

"Not being payed for heroics, huh?" Eugene rumbled suspiciously.

She grinned weakly and she tried very carefully not to look at the maybe not carcass and maybe not corpse beneath them. Yeah, now that she had the chance to think about it, it wasn't something she wanted to dwell on. Instead she focused on answering the question.

"Well, you know, I wouldn't call it heroics . . ."

"Oh really?" The big Salamander grunted. "Then what was that?" He nodded a head towards the church tower.

"Self defense?" Morgiana offered, squirming free from Eugene's grip and coming to hover beside him.

"Alone? Without a wing man?" Eugene asked. The big Salamander sounded ever so slightly agitated.

The Lady of the Spriggans smiled slyly as she caught on. "Oh-ho, it couldn't be that you were worried about moi?" The look on his face was pretty damn priceless. She wished she had a recording crystal.

"This isn't a game. You can't cut loose like that anymore." Eugene warned, tapping his own side for emphasis.

She snorted. "Yeah, well, that bastard was about to make Kentucky Fried Spriggan out of my Guild, sorry if I got a little over protective."

Eugene's only answer was an unconvinced nod, gesturing for her to follow to a patch of quiet rooftops where a handful of Salamanders were resting their wing in preparation for rejoining the battle in the skies above. Most were Lancers, but a few were support mages popping mana restore potions or seeing to minor injuries while they waited for their flight magic to recharge.

They were actually doing pretty well right now, Morgiana thought as she tallied up the salamanders. She knew that some had been hurt, a few badly, but so far there had only been one confirmed fatality. Eugene had looked pretty pissed when he'd heard. Well, better to get angry about it then to break down crying.

"Gene-kun." Eugene's second in command bowed his head as his Commander touched down on the rooftop.

"Dragon Knights are being kept back from south east staging point. How is the harassment going?" Eugene asked.

"Two dragon Knights eliminated, but three more retreated towards the docks." Kagemune said, mirroring Eugene's clinical look of satisfaction at a job well done.

It wasn't like she had been keeping count, but the Dragon Knights that had originally sallied from throughout the city had taken over a dozen casualties so far. Some were fatalities, others were just knocked out of the fighting. Between the element of surprise, the zeal of the Griffin Knights, and the prowess of a full raid force of Salamander Lancers, the Albionian Knights hadn't stood much chance in the skies above the city.

"Morgiana-sama!" Turning around, the Lady of the Spriggans was met by a panting young Spriggan dispelling his wings to land on the roof. He sounded a quad familiar but definitely wasn't one of the long standing members of Kurotaka.

"Oh, Name-kun!" She answered cheerfully as she nodded to the young spear and magic user whose real handle was Shime. But until he managed to prove his worth and rise above gopher status, he would be addressed as 'Name-kun'. "You alright? Catch your breath Kid."

Name-kun nodded his head quickly. "Morgiana-sama, the Sabrina is making her pass on the Northern Fort now."

"That's our cue to move the mage teams up to support." Eugene commented.

Morgiana sighed as she stretched her spear arm lazily. This Dark Amalgam Armor was great, but it sure as hell was a pain to wear for more than a couple of hours at a stretch. Well in any case, things were still going roughly according to plan. No matter how the operation at Newcastle went, the surprise attack here had succeeded at applying a ten pound sledgehammer to the knees of the Rebel fleet.

Now it was just a race to see how much insult they could add to injury before the battle line arrived to deliver the finishing blow. The forts guarding the port were another key target, and after the pinket finished them off, the Spriggans had been instructed to indulge in a bit of looting, securing any intact cannons for retrieval.

"Anything else, Kiddo?" Morgiana asked Name-kun as the boy finally caught his breath.

The young Spriggan nodded. "Yes, Morgiana-sama, word from Drake. The Dragon Knight squadrons have begun to consolidate around the docks. We've had to pull back."

Eugene cursed softly under his breath. "They're probably using the ship cannons for cover while the Dragons fly over watch."

"Commander?" Kagemune asked.

"There's not much we can do about them until the fleet arrives." Eugene said. "Morgiana, the docks are becoming a very dangerous place to be for anyone who doesn't pledge allegiance to Lord Cromwell."

"Right, right. Well, not much else we can do to earn our pay." Morgiana nodded back to Name-kun. "Oy, scram and tell Drake to get everyone together and head for the Northern fortress. We're going to help the Salamanders storm in after the 'Wonder Wind' . . ."

"Heavy Wind." Kagemune corrected softly.

"Whatever." Morgiana rolled her eyes. "Anyways, after she cracks open the fortress walls, we're going to help out."

Name-kun placed a closed hand over his heart. "Yes, Morgiana-sama."

"Eh?!" Morgiana chided, wagging her spear idly.

The young Spriggan fumbled. "I mean . . . Big Sis."

"There ya'go Kiddo, now get lost." She watched as Name-kun stepped off the side of the roof and took back to the skies to find Drake and the others. Morgiana wasn't particularly worried, the Kurotakas were smart enough to stay out of the worst of the danger and to gather up once they'd finished causing hell.

"Kagemune, go find Carmond and tell him the same." Eugene instructed. "I want his platoon to rest their wings before advancing on the Fort. We'll do this carefully so that we can retreat if the defenses are too strong."

"Yes, Gene-kun." Kagemune saluted and conjured his wings to do as instructed. He'd barely risen from the roof when a sound like thunder peeled across the Port.

"Sounds like they've started the fort bombing." Morgiana commented casually as she turned her head Northward to observe the trios of falling stars.

Was it wrong that she was proud of her guild?

They were killing people tonight, lots of people. But they were protecting lots of people too. How could she not be proud of them? They were strong, very strong, the strongest among the Spriggans, some of the strongest among the Fae. Not just in body, that was just a fluke of game stats, they were strong in other ways. They'd stepped forward unflinchingly to protect others. And she'd protect them in turn.

The third bomb exploded with a flash of flame and light that briefly dazzled Morgiana's darkness adjusted eyes. When the thunder came, it sounded different, less muted than before. It took her a second to understand why. The bomb had exploded in midair.

Morgiana's heart stopped for a single beat, she felt the blood draining from her face, her visions blurring. Her mind rewound the last handful of seconds and played it over again. Three little points of light, two red and one deep violet, and then they'd vanished in a flower of orange and yellow . . . They'd let go right? They had to have let go!

"Morgiana!" Eugene shouted.

She didn't know when she'd taken to the sky, she didn't even realize she was flying until she heard Eugene chasing after her, the rest of his men close on his heels, carrying their heavy shields and lances at the ready. She'd just reacted, her wings bursting from her back, kicking off with all her might and cutting straight across the Port towards the dissipating cloud of smoke and flames.

"Morgiana slow down!" Eugene was falling further behind, he'd never been as fast in a straight sprint.

"I can't." Morgiana shouted back. 'I can't, I can't, I can't!' She felt something burning against her cheeks and she wasn't sure if it was the cold wind or tears. One of her Kids had been in that blast, she wasn't going to leave them!

* * *

Pain was not a new experience for Karin de la Valliere. Whether beneath her armor or her noble attire, her body had long ago become a patchwork of scars, some hearkening back to wounds too serious even for water magic to fully erase. Pain was her oldest companion, pain meant she was still alive. That did not mean that pain was welcome.

Groaning under her breath, Karin opened her eyes and blinked away the spots as she began to scroll down a mental check list.

Arms, right arm good, left arm . . . there was a faint grinding at the wrist and flaring of red hot agony, most likely sprain or possibly broken. Head, aching and she could feel blood trickling down her face, but probing with her good hand suggested that it was just a scalp wound. Chest, it hurt to breath but not so much that she could not take deep breaths, most likely bruised ribs. Prodding with her good arm she corrected, the bottom left floating rib was likely broken. Legs, pinned, but she till had feeling in both so she could likely stand if she got free.

She appeared to be laying in what remained of the courtyard atop the Fort. All around her, pillars of dust and ash rose from cracks and holes in the walls and cobblestones, carried upwards by convection currents driven by fires within. Karin found herself propped against a pile of dirt fill from one of the wrecked walls. Her helmet lay ten mails away, a new collection of dents and scratches marring its surface, her sword-wand was nowhere in sight.

Slumping against her lower torso was the body of her familiar. d'Artagnan was still alive, anything that hadn't killed her certainly wouldn't finish him, but through their familiar bond she could sense that he was in pain, barely conscious.

The exact series of events came back to her slowly. She had been preparing for her next attack run, and then, the fireball . . . and the bomb! What had happened next?

Sir Weltall had been between her and the blast, he must have been able to cast a wind barrier, that was the only way she could be alive now. Head spinning about dizzily, she spotted the Griffin Knight's mount, dead. A wooden support beam had impaled the beast through the chest and one wing had been torn completely free from its body. Sir Weltall lay a dozen paces away, his armor half destroy and covered in his own blood. Whether he was alive or not, Karin could not say.

Trying to free herself from beneath d'Artagnan, her side welled up with pain. Feeling at it, she found that she'd been grazed by a wood splinter nearly a mail long. The wound oozed blood and without a wand, she had nothing to staunch it with.

Cursing again to herself, there was nothing else to do, she couldn't stay like this. Pushing through the pain, Karin reached up into her saddle for one of the small potion bottles. She wanted . . . she wanted the green one she recalled. One small green bulb fell into her hand, she fumbled, nearly dropping it, but managed to bring the potion to her lips. Biting off the silver cap, she wondered briefly if this was wise before swallowing the faintly bitter concoction.

No, it hadn't been wise it all. She nearly gagged as the light green liquid tried to force its way back up, coating and then numbing her throat, spreading like ice into her lungs and fire into her belly. That pain was like nothing compared to what happened as the burning sensation reached her wounds. Karin's vision went briefly white as she endured the indescribable sensation of concentrated magic churning about her insides. And this was a simple healing potion?!

When pain passed, she was overcome by a wave of nausea and then a blessedly cool numbness that at last left her able to act. She was about to try again to free herself as d'Artagnan shifted feebly, attempting to rise on mangled legs. Karin felt his second hand alarm and then her own very real first hand pain as boots cluttered beside her and a fist took hold of her hair.

"This one's still alive!" The sound was faintly muted, difficult to make out.

"Look at it, a Matincore! She's the one." A second voice answered and Karin felt herself being pulled free from beneath d'Artagnan. She struggled feebly, but between the crash and the potency of the Fae potion she hadn't the strength to fight back.

Karin was thrown to the ground, her landing followed by a kick to the stomach that was only partially blunted by her heavy armor. The blow had been delivered by a dismounted dragon knight, pacing as he stood above her. "Come on you bitch! Come on, stand and fight. Or can't you?" Karin glared up at the man forcing herself to rise only to be kicked down again.

"She's worth more to us as a prisoner, tie her up and leave her to the garrison." The man who had spoken first was in the disheveled uniform of a Mage Officer, probably the commander of the Fortress Troops. Behind him, a whole squad of equally battered looking men had assembled while a dragon flew a patrol pattern in the skies above.

The Knight swept an arm around. "What garrison? Half the garrison is gone and so is half the bloody Fort!" The man's laugh was almost hysterical. "Besides that, I watched her kill six of my squadron, tore them to shreds without mercy." Kneeling down the Knight pressed a knee hard into Karin's shoulder and drew a knife from his belt. "I'll make you suffer for every one of them!"

The foolishness of many Mages, even Mage Knights, was the assumption that an opponent without a wand was without magic, and that without magic they were helpless. This was naturally incorrect. An opponent was not helpless until they were dead.

Karin's right hand closed around the man's wrist, thumb finding the pressure point and squeezing down until her nail drew blood. Shifting her grip, she pushed upwards, turning the knife towards its wielder and up into his throat. The man gurgled.

"Then that's seven of your squadron I've killed." Karin bit out before rolling free, wincing as she bumped her cracked ribs. She was weak, shaky on her feet, and her vision wasn't at all clear at present, probably blood loss, but training filled in for conscious thought.

The Mage Officer who had urged leniency fumbled for his wand. Karin stepped forward, bringing her left arm around the man's wand arm, turning to place herself behind him with her captured knife to his throat. "Yield!"

To Karin's mild surprise, the portly officer simply chuckled. "And what do you expect them to do Madame? Let you go?" The foot soldiers and two remaining mages looked to one another and back to Karin. "Keep your weapons up men!" The Officer shouted. "And if she makes a move towards that saddle, you have my permission to fire through me if you must!"

The foot soldiers still looked doubtful, but the mages each gave a solemn nod. "Now then Madame, I must beg pardon for the late Lieutenant's brashness, he was grieving fallen comrades as he said. Why don't you put that knife down and come along peacefully. We'll have your wounds seen to and treat you as a captured Officer."

Karin pretended to listen, but she was really just buying time. One good spell, that was all she needed, she could cast a gale that would throw the occupants of the courtyard about like rag dolls. But only if she had a focus. Her saddle was a mere stones throw away along with its two spare cane-wands. Her blasted sword was still nowhere to be seen.

There were about twenty commoners, hastily armed with half pikes and a few muskets. The vulgar commoner weapons were inaccurate and not very effective against a trained mage, but they would do well enough to kill her at this range. And if the muskets did not, the two mage officers or the lone circling Dragon Knight would do her in before she could cast.

Except . . . The Dragon Knight wasn't circling any more, he was plunging. Dragons were large creatures, but deceptively light for their size, hollow boned, with sinewy builds and membranous wings. So when the out of control dragon crashed head first into the courtyard, the effect was not quite as impressive as one might expect. It was still enough to lightly shake the earth and kick up a cloud of dust.

Half of the soldiers spun to take aim at this sudden, mystifying phenomenon, the rest spared it only a nervous glance but kept their aim on Karin. Then the dust settled and Karin tightened her grip on her stolen knife.

An armored Spriggan was crouched atop the dragon's neck, spear thrust through the crest of the skull. The armor gave only vague hints as to the gender of the person underneath, but the thick braid that fell down from the back of the helmet was clue enough.

The courtyard was silent. Even the Dragon's Knight seemed dazed. He sat upright, holding the reigns as if not quite comprehending that his mount had been killed underneath him.

"Now then, the way I see it, there's two types of people in this fort right now." A voice rang out loud and clear from shadows of the hawk like helm. "There are badass warrior babes who kill dragons. And there are scared little girls who just pissed their panties. So . . . care to guess which ones you are?"

The soldiers were unsure of how to handle this new development. One of the mages had turned to face Morgiana while the other kept his wand leveled on Karin. The Mage Knight finally began to respond, groping for his sword-wand.

An arrow sank into the ground between Morgiana and Karin. Up on the walls, a Spriggan archer was readying her next shot.

One musketeer turned to face her and then dropped his musket, howling in pain as a crossbow bolt sank into his hand.

Emerging from the cover of a shadow that was cast by nothing, a second Spriggan wielding a crossbow and sword had appeared. The shadow shrank back to the walls of the fortress revealing a third and a forth Spriggan with staffs. A fifth Spriggan materialized behind one of the Mage Officers and put a dagger to his throat while still more appeared on the surrounding walls, accompanied by Salamander Mages and Lancers.

"I repeat." Morgiana said, turning her head to the mage who was still pointing his wand at her. "Which are you?"

The young Mage seemed to give the question careful consideration. "W-we're scared little girls?"

"Who?"

"P-pissed our panties." He stammered, tossing aside his wand and raising his hands in surrender.

"Good Girl!" Morgiana said with false cheer before grabbing the Mage Knight she had been ignoring and hauling him from his saddle.

The commoners followed the lead of their commanders, leaving only the befuddled Mage Officer struggling in Karin's grasp. The man spluttered as Karin left him to the Spriggans to tie up.

A Salamander mage set down beside her, offering to check her wounds and urging for her to sit down.

"Not until I know Sir Weltall's condition." Karin said, shrugging the slight Mage aside.

More Salamanders were landing nearby, one sweeping his hands over the stricken Griffin Knight, carefully removing the man's helmet and placing a hand to his throat. It was hard to see how badly injured Sir Weltall was beneath all of the blood, but the Salamander Healer said that he was still alive and went about applying healing magic to staunch the bleeding and stabilize Sir Weltall's condition.

"General Eugene." Karin nodded as she saw the familiar, massive frame of the Salamander Commander.

"Karin." Eugene replied. "We were preparing to secure the fort after your attack run. Morgiana and rest of the Kurotaka came when they saw the midair explosion."

"I see." Karin supposed she need give thanks to Morgiana for that much at least, much as it might gall her to admit it.

But that was the problem. Morgiana wasn't anywhere nearby. Having removed her helmet, the Lady of the Spriggans was looking all about the rubble filled courtyard. At last she stopped and starred at one particular pile of rubble. Falling to hands and knees she began to tear away debris, digging something loose from the shattered masonry.

Body language was always difficult to read in armor, but Karin could guess. Standing, Morgiana clutched something close to herself. It was small and black, no longer than a forearm. That was because that was exactly what it was. Still encased in its gauntlet, the lower half of the left limb of one of the Spriggan bombardiers.

The other Spriggans stopped in their work and watched as she returned, face neutral, eyes dark. "Duchess de la Valliere." Morgiana asked, coolly, formally. Karin wouldn't have thought it was the voice of the care free Lady of the Spriggans at all. "Did you . . . see what happened? Did the bomb misfire? Was the fuse lit too early?"

"Morgiana." General Eugene whispered.

Karin paused in answering. This talk of bombs, there was another one standing right in front of her, and potentially a good deal more dangerous. "It was struck by a fire spell." Karin said truthfully. "That caused it to prematurely detonate . . . I don't believe any of the bombardiers could have survived."

Eugene lowered his head solemnly. It was the expected and proper response of an officer whose soldiers had made the ultimate sacrifice.

Morgiana gave a small nod of thanks offering the remains to a young Spriggan who carefully wrapped them in his cloak. She made her way straight to the Mage Officer who Karin had briefly held hostage. In one easy motion, the Lady of the Spriggan lifted the man off of his feet by the collar of his jacket.

"Who was it? Who shot down that bomb?!" Morgiana roared. Her voice echoed against the walls of the courtyard.

The man kicked clumsily, eyes going wide with fear. "I-I don't know, we saw the ship . . . and . . . and the bombs . . ."

"It was one of the Dragon Knights." One of the other Mages said quickly. "I saw Sir Michaelson fire as the bomb fell!"

Karin didn't know any of their names, and neither did Morgiana, but the look of terror on the face of the surviving Dragon Knight told the story all too well. The man fell backwards, trying to crawl away from the Spriggan Lord, his every step met with a distance eating stride of Morgiana's own. Finally, he stopped and looked up, whimpering. It was a pathetic state for a Knight.

Morgiana stared down at him, her face a neutral mask. Brown eyes caught the light of the red moon staining them the color of blood. "Hex-kun was terrified." She said. "But he said he couldn't back down either. So he asked me what to do. I told him I would keep him safe just like the rest of the Kurotaka."

Morgiana's spear flicked out, grazing the Knight's left cheek and burying itself in the earth beside him. "Why did you have to make me break my promise?"

A burly, improbably blonde haired Spriggan spoke up. "Morgiana . . . "

"Not. Now. Drake."

"That's enough." Eugene growled, taking a step past the Spriggan soldier. "He's a soldier Morgiana. This is a battle. That's the way things go."

"You think I don't know that?" Morgiana whispered. "Damn." She withdrew her spear from the earth raising it to thrust casually. "Damn!"

"Please, Founder no! Please!" The Knight whimpered. The spear came down and planted itself just below his crotch. The Knight fainted.

"Fucking unsatisfying." Blowing out a breath, Morgiana let out an inarticulate shout."Marina, take some guys and see if you can find the rest of Hex's body. We're all going home when this is finished, all of us. Drake, Shirishi, Karma, Lark, you're all with me."

"Darling?" The Spriggan woman who had struck Karin as more proper than the rest of her ilk queried.

"There's bound to be more idiots inside and the Lancers are worthless in confined quarters." Morgiana replied as she planted her spear in the earth and drew the wicked looking knife she carried with her at all times. "Big Sis is going mole hunting, come along kids."

The other Spriggans fell in behind her, Drake departing last with a shake of his head. Karin stopped the Spriggan soldier briefly to give her to Morgiana for their timely arrival.

"Eh? It's not like we were ordered to. We just saw the explosion and came running. It only made sense Morgiana would be here." Drake shrugged and left a dismayed Karin in the company of the healers.

Clearing the fortress didn't take long after that. The small fires that had been ignited by the bombs drove the surviving soldiers to the surface. Most surrendered immediately, the rest did so after a show of force.

By the time the Griffin Knights were circling in the lightening sky, coming in to land, the last of the Fortress garrison had been marched into the courtyard and tied up. The loss of one of her soldiers had left Morgiana restless, but her blood had cooled by dawn and she had found a wall to lean against and watch the proceedings.

Sir Bjorn and another two mages busied themselves conjuring Golems to help wrestle the surviving fortress cannons up into the courtyard for retrieval while the other Knights saw to their Griffins and manned the the fort's intact land facing walls along with the Salamander Mages and Spriggans.

Karin went about seeing to her own d'Artagnan's wounds while listening to reports from the Spriggan scouts.

It appeared that at least some of the city Garrison units were now aware of their presence and were keeping away from the crippled fortress lest they be attacked. But a counterattack was still hours off at least. Much of the Garrison was now at the docks, seeing to their dead and wounded, fighting fires, and making emergency repairs. The lull in the fighting gave the Mages and their Faerie allies a chance to regroup, plan, and prepare for the fleet's arrival.

The sun rising over the eastern mist banks silhouetted sixteen sleek third and second raters of the Tristanian navy. Summoned just before the attack had begun, they had sailed close to the Isle under the cover of Darkness while the patrolling frigates were distracted by the surprise attacks.

The alarm bells that had sounded earlier were raised again, this time chiming in a different pattern to report a naval formation approaching the port.

"With this, we take the first step to securing Tristain's future." Karin said as she watched the Fleet arrive, the Mercator at the lead.

La Ramee's flagship hoisted a signal demanding the surrender of the ships at the docks, but the Rebel forces seemed intent on fighting. Only five of the eleven battleships were fit to maneuver, but two more managed to take to the skies despite their broken sails, letting out their moorings and laying down additional lines so that the ships could be turned using capstans located on the docks. It seemed they intended to fight from the harbor where they would enjoy the support of the mage garrison and a few scattered coastal batteries.

It would be their funeral. Between the lost ships and the lost and crippled crew, they couldn't hope to win a fight against the numerically superior Tristanian force. Even the Royal Sovereign would be dragged down by numbers.

What had Lord Mortimer called it? Karin thought back. Local air superiority? It seemed a fitting description. The Albionian fleet outnumbered the fleet of Tristain over two to one in ships of the line. But here and now, Tristain had a decisive advantage.

She was thinking this even as the first salvos were fired from the Rebel ships. The naval battle had begun.

"Hey, Gene-kun." Morgiana asked tensely. "I'm not super up to speed on ships and all that. But shouldn't La Ramee be firing back by now?"

Karin looked quickly between the two fleets and realized that Morgiana was right. Using one of her spare wands retrieved from her saddle, she conjured up an air lens to observe the approaching Tristanian fleet. The Albionian squadrons first shots had struck the lead ships but La Ramee still wasn't firing back. Then she realized what was wrong.

"The distance." Karin whispered. "That range is much too far. It should be half again the effective range of cannons!"