Chapter 189: How the Rules are Bent

Nothing happened.

Or at the very least, nothing else had manifested beyond those two ornate wooden spars.

The two bowsprits of these hyped-up aethraships remained where they were — awkwardly in the vunerian’s palms.

The stormy clouds and murky fog behind them had likewise stalled in the wake of this grand proclamation, frustratingly teasing the rest of these aerial behemoths, as only the faintest silhouettes could be made out beyond the stormy occlusion.

The reason behind this palpable pause would be made clear enough just by virtue of the executive kobold’s desperate nonverbal pleas to the prince; the latter party’s uncompromising stoicism only served to exacerbate the already growing awkward tension.

“It’s a bit rude to impose your illusory magics on an active sight-seer, no?” Thalmin responded plainly.

He’d hijacked Thalmin’s sight-seer, having superimposed his own illusionary magics upon it.

To say that I was impressed would have been an understatement, especially as I’d begun to appreciate Ilunor’s proclivities for such magics, albeit begrudgingly at first.

His mastery over the craft was made clear enough when it came to his unscrupulous, underhanded activities.

But to so neatly create an illusion that took half the size of the sight-seer, as well as blending color, texture, and shading, on an active 3D projection at that, all on a whim?

That… takes things to another level, maybe even rivaling the most talented of live holo-show artists.

“Oh come now, Prince Thalmin, why the reflexive descent into such brazen negativity?” Ilunor responded with a playfully indignant lilt of his voice before placing a single hand on his chest in a fit of feigned offense. “Here I am, attempting to honor your masterful dissertation of contemporary adjacent warfare by providing the grand segue it deserves… and I am denounced for it?”

Thalmin narrowed his gaze before letting out a strained, frustrated sigh. “I would have appreciated it if you had at least requested my permission to do so.”

“That would have disrupted the narrative flow!” Ilunor countered. “While I concede that my actions may have been objectively objectionable, I would be remiss if I were to blindly follow the rules of social convention when it is the integrity of the arts that is in jeopardy.” He spoke with that signature shit-eating grin plastered across his face, all the while gesticulating wildly. “With all that being said… this entire conversation has rendered my attempts at a seamless transition… moot.” The vunerian shifted his tone drastically and sighed, but not before summoning a book in his hands, allowing it to levitate just above it, eschewing any physical contact which would have probably drained his limited stamina for the day. “So then, Prince Thalmin… will you grant me the honor of carrying your mantle in your stead? I assure you, I will return it once my point has been made—”

“Go on then.” Thalmin grumbled and shrugged, snapping his fingers and causing his sight-seer to quite literally suck up the battlefield around us. The perfectly proportioned and photorealistic vistas surrounding us quickly stretched and twisted into the swirling event horizon that was Thalmin’s beartrap-book abomination.

We found ourselves ‘back’ in the living room, not that we’d ever left.

Though it wasn’t long before we were thrust back into the thick of things.

With a wordless deployment of his own sight-seer, one that was placed right next to Thalmin’s as if to subtly snub its Havenbrockian equivalent, Ilunor would be quick to send us to his neck of the woods. One which came with a return to the typical rolling plains, pristine meadows, and…

…

… a sprawling city, complete with an army thrice the size of the one shown in Thalmin’s presentation.

This was a swift departure from Ilunor’s prior demonstrations, which mostly consisted of static displays of individual points of interest and the occasional simulated demonstration.

And whilst the scene in front of us could have been another such hypothetical, something told me that with the bar raised, our executive kobold would be more than eager to step up his game, if only to match the bar Thalmin had set.

“Welcome to the reality that the dastardly rodent had been too hesitant to show you.” Ilunor began with a theatrical flourish, his words coinciding with the introductory sounds of chirping birds, rustling winds, and the unmistakable hustle and bustle of both soldiers and townsfolk alike down below. “The specifics of this recording are irrelevant, as neither the place nor the time matter in what amounts to a story repeated throughout the ages. Indeed, we could be in any adjacent realm… provided, of course, that its first candidate had taken the hero’s bargain. The same bargain which you were offered by Lord Rostarion.”

The vunerian now had my full and undivided attention, as I urged him on with a nod of my head.

“I know he offered you armies. I know he offered you weapons. But what comes as part and parcel to all of that — and that which turns a would-be usurper into an unstoppable force — is the humble aethraship."

Cries and screams echoed from the ground below upon the utterance of that simple word.

This coincided with the arrival of the very fleet the hamster had offered me, all of which were but specks to anyone on the ground yet clearly visible under the peering gaze of a spyglass.

“Five sloops.” The vunerian announced, gesturing at the simulacrum of a vessel plucked out of the age of sail, granted flight by virtue of its two crystal nacelles extending out from its stern via some thick, beefy pylons.

“Five brigs.” He continued as five larger vessels appeared behind that first line. They had double the decks, double the length, and even double the mast height, giving them sails that lent them a formidable elegance, especially compared to their far smaller counterparts.

“And of course… ten frigates.” He concluded just as those seven-decker ‘monstrosities’ showed up, bristling with weapon emplacements, brimming with men-at-arms and airmen alike, and most notable of all, laden with ten whole nacelles extended on variably sized pylons arranged in a one-one configuration equidistantly from bow to stern.

“I need not expand on the principles of flight, for we have covered that in our last major exchange.” Ilunor offered thoughtfully. “We need not dive too deep into the particular specifications of these vessels as well, for that was already advertised in full by your prospective fiduciary furry fiend.” The vunerian openly grimaced, practically raising his nose at the mention of Rostario. “What I will be discussing instead is a matter far more in line with our dear prince’s earlier demonstrations. I will show you what becomes of a realm lacking in this third dominion of the wars below. For as much as the battles of the land and the sea may dictate the fate of many a realm, it is within the skies that both dominions may find themselves subject to. Their very existence but an afterthought for the masters straddling the tapestry.”

Thalmin remained eerily quiet on the matter, his gaze not merely thoughtful but wary, as if this was a point he’d spent many a sleepless night pondering; a fact I hated to admit was valid.

Ilunor was right.

Air power, even in this… questionable form, was still air power.

Add to that the context of adjacencies lacking the resources to field such a force? Well… it not only changed the calculus of war… it wrecked the ruleset entirely.

This was especially true in a newrealm of all places. A fact that Ilunor would be more than proud to demonstrate.

I watched in silence as the signature ‘storm’ of war raged on above the aethraships.

I pondered, quietly, whether there was any overlap—

“You must be wondering if the War in the Heavens has any effect on a force which scrapes its domain, yes?” Ilunor questioned directly, that smug grin on his face practically cemented by this point.

“Yes—”

“Well it depends.” The executive kobold interjected with a faux thoughtfulness. “Oftentimes, they are left untouched — either out of a gentlemanly restraint in warfare etiquette, or simply because they are far too trivial a target when compared to that of a fellow mage. In some rare instances, the vessels themselves act as the capital ship from which the war in the heavens is waged, though this is often a Nexian phenomenon, given the sheer resources involved. Does that address your—”

“I barely had a chance to ask, but sure. That does address it.” I acknowledged, prompting the vunerian to continue.

It took scarcely a minute for the aethraships to cover a distance from just over the horizon to practically hovering above the army below.

This surprisingly brisk pace prompted yet another back-and-forth with Ilunor, who quickly insisted that no video-editing trickery had been used for the purposes of brevity.

“Why, of course these ships are capable of incredible speed, Emma. Was that ever in question?”

“Well, yes, sort of. See, I always imagined you’d have the means of attaining such speeds. That wasn’t ever in question. What was in question, however, was the… practical design considerations when such speeds are undertaken. Ergo, it’s more the form of the ships that put into question their ability to undertake such speeds. Rather than the propulsion questi—”

“And pray tell what about its form prevents it from achieving such speeds?” Ilunor shot back.

“Putting aside aerodynamic considerations. The… open deck plan seems to be a bit of a hindrance to anyone actually on the ship itse—”

“What do you think the masts and sails are for, hmm?” Ilunor interjected with a series of tuts.

I blinked, cocking my head as I did so. “I thought they harnessed the wind or acted as a magical analogue for propulsion or—”

“HAH! I see the commoner mind is well and alive within you, despite all of the trimmings garnered from a noble life lived! Oh, what a terribly quaint, commoner perspective on things!” Ilunor interjected, falling back into his worst habits for a brief second. “You conflate superficial similarities in nautical design language with that of aethraship construction! I do not blame you, however. Such inferences are to be expected from a mind that has yet to grasp the logic and reason of the magical order.” The blue thing was practically on the verge of inflating into a balloon at this rate, his hot air risking him turning into his very own blimp if he wasn’t careful about it… “I thank you for such an… insightful analysis all the same. It has been quite some time since—”

“Get on with it, Ilunor.” Thalmin urged with a growl, prompting the vunerian to roll his eyes once, before shrugging all the same.

“Of course, of course, Prince Thalmin.” Ilunor replied, holding back a cackle and its accompanying tears of laughter. “The masts and sails of aethraships are traditionally where enchantments for both defensive and environmental protections are located. They keep the top deck enclosed in a tangible ward, keeping matters of wind and pesky acceleration at bay, allowing for its chosen-one crew to remain perfectly unfazed even at the most ludicrous of speeds! The actual propulsion for such a vessel is almost entirely a matter of the various mana-crystals held within the ship’s nacelles. Though speed boosts are sometimes a feature of the sails, they often aren’t the primary source of propulsion.”

I nodded… slowly, urging the vunerian onwards with a simple hand wave while internalizing and dissecting one of the largest tactical reveals about these floating sailboats so far…

So they have a literal shield… and some sort of inertial dampers to boot. Alright then, that’ll make things interesting.

Ilunor happily obliged, as the ships hovering ominously above the grand armies below began their expected assault.

And the results?

Well… they were just as expected.

KA-BOOOOOMMMM!!!

The whole room shook with the impact of high explosive ordnances.

Unguided magical bombs littered the landscape as the ships initiated their bombing campaign with impunity.

Explosives turned neatly arranged formations of soldiers into utter deathtraps.

Firebombs wreaked untold devastation on anything organic, leaving only gargoyles in their wake. Though what few stragglers made it out were then turned into veritable target practice for the deck crew and their mounts, as enchanted crossbowmen and even ballista crewmen took turns annihilating these stony beasts.

The whole scene was nothing short of brutal.

Indeed, the sheer brutality of it all caused the city below to immediately drop weapons and raise flags, which I assumed to mean surrender.

Resisting would’ve led to complete annihilation after all.

“It truly is no contest.” Ilunor proclaimed. “As you can see, even the sloops joined in on the fight, using weapons traditionally meant for far smaller aerial combatants to instead take opportunistic shots at the ground. This is why Aethraships are always advertised as part and parcel with any would-be ‘liberator’ returning to their realm. It is the ultimate expression of power for the wars below, and it—”

“Wait, hold on, are you saying sloops are designed to take on… for lack of a better term — aerial infantry units?”

“And aerial cavalry units as well, yes.” Ilunor responded with a raised finger. “Each ship has a specific role to play, after all. I imagine this to be rather self-evident, no?”

I blinked once, then nodded, as something else finally clicked in my head. “Come to think of it, yes.” I acquiesced. “With a domain of war so saturated with as many irregular forces as there are species of flighted mount, I can imagine that incorporating a dedicated picket ship would be necessary to at least maintain a nominal screening element to any airborne fleet.”

Ilunor paused, his eyes narrowing as he seemed to regard my words with an intent to pick them apart. But upon finding nothing to dissect or deride, he simply huffed and moved on.

“It is indeed as you say. For the skies of many an adjacent realm are populated by nuisances which must be accounted for. Nuisances which, if allowed to accumulate, can turn into intolerable threats by sheer volume of numbers and maneuverability alone. Drakes, griffins, flyers, riders, and all sorts can be outright hazards for larger vessels if left unchecked. So yes, this is the role it is meant to fulfill.” The vunerian pondered for a moment before turning to Thacea. “Perhaps this is where you would like to demonstrate the sorts of flying threats posed by those born with the natural inclination for flight, Princess?”

“You would ask to be entertained by reveling in the slaughter of my fellow countrymen in the domain which we naturally rule? Watching as they are ripped from the skies with the sadistic glee of a Nexian nobleman under the guise of an educational endeavor?” Thacea practically snapped back, her words cutting deep and carrying the pointedness of a princess scorned.

This took both Ilunor and even Thalmin by surprise, though the former would be quick to fall back on his showmanship and bluster.

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“I ask not for any real battle wherein such… tragedies are witnessed, Princess Dilani.” He offered politely.

“Noted. Because if you did, then I’d have to regretfully label you as a fool.” The princess shot back brazenly.

“I’m sorry?” Ilunor responded.

“To assume as such would be to take my countrymen as delusional fools at best, or outright ignoramuses at worst. As a people gifted with the natural inclination for flight, the skies are inexorably our domain. It is quite insulting, then, that you would infer that we would lack the mental wherewithal and critical thought to delineate what constitutes as tactically and strategically sound, and what is outright blatant idiocy. The line between these two considerations is, after all, neither fine nor nuanced. The chasm between them is absolutely immense… though perhaps still not as immense as a Nexian nobleperson’s ego.”

“There really is no need for such scathing reprisals, Princess—”

“You would choose to begin your request by labeling those born with the natural inclination for flight as threats and nuisances, utilizing the same vernacular as one would to a common household pest. You advertise yourself as a theatrical prodigy, Ilunor. I expect every word you utter to be rehearsed and well weighed. I am thus paying you the due respect by responding to you as one would a seasoned playwright.”

Ilunor took in a deep breath, placing both hands together as he exhaled sharply. “I take back—” He paused before shaking his head. “My sincerest apologies for implying as such from my verbiage.” He offered sincerely. “Allow me to retract and rephrase my earlier statement.” He cleared his throat. “Would you please kindly demonstrate some of your people’s martial acumen, as it pertains to your inherent capacity for flight?”

Thacea took a moment to pause, weighing Ilunor’s words, and then subsequently nodded, as she too summoned a sight-seer from her bag of holding.

A brief setup and a switchup of the scene quickly followed, as Thacea was quick to tackle the subject with the least amount of context, buildup, and theatre between the three of them.

Indeed, all we were presented with was something that was barely more complex than simple devkit terrain plains, with simple grass texturing covering a flat brown-and-green surface and a skybox that felt invariably flat and blue.

The reason for this painful simplicity would become clear enough as we looked up to see a veritable obstacle course hovering above our heads.

Though just calling it an ‘obstacle course’ would be doing this structure a disservice, as it consisted of towers, rings, hoops, and quite literally everything you’d find in one of those extreme flight-sim VR challenges.

“I will make this brief, as matters of martial tradition are not my forte.” Thacea began before summoning a group of avinor clad in cuirasses and padded cloth that was on the exceptionally colorful side.

“We possess… much of the same doctrinal structure as seen from the Havenbrock presentation. However, what we possess in addition to that is maneuverability." Thacea continued, demonstrating this in spades as the small group of avinor foot soldiers quickly took to the skies. They zipped and darted in precise movements, performing loop-de-loops and aileron rolls with a discipline and precision that could match the most well-trained of rocketeer groups back home. In fact, they seemed to exceed what the typical rocketeer could feasibly manage, as each dive and every engagement seemed far more fluid, organic, and stood in stark defiance of certain principles of power-armored flight.

“Battle lines, at least from my understanding of things, do not exist as… rigidly as is seen in the flightless flocks. Indeed, there are entire schools of martial thought behind the loss of battle lines in lieu of a total engagement within the skies. This natural inclination for the skies is also reflected in our weapons. I believe many have said our proclivity for curved blades has something to do with this?” Thacea spoke softly before shrugging. “Javelins are another, as are weighted nets. The latter becoming something of a lynchpin in many an engagement, if I recall.”

The demonstration then abruptly ended, with Thacea reaching for her sight-seer book and pocketing it just as quickly.

“I apologize for lacking much in the way of grandiose displays of martial prowess. This is something I simply did not foresee to be a pertinent subject matter. Not enough to be worth bringing within my collection of sight-seer crystals.” She spoke with a curtness I simply had to respond to.

“It’s alright, Thacea. This was, after all, primarily a thing between me and Thalmin to dive deep into.” I offered.

But once again… Ilunor would find himself itching for the spotlight.

“A fantastic look into your neck of the woods, Princess. I am both humbled and honored by the courtesy extended to me in the humoring of my requests.”

“Of course, Ilunor.” Thacea replied reflexively before gently handing him back the floor.

“This was, of course, all a part of my attempt to demystify the myth of the aethraship! With my attempts to demonstrate that there is more to this aerial domain than aethraships alone. Indeed, this will be the next matter of discussion, as I am nothing if not fair.” Ilunor proclaimed with a fangy grin. “As is in life, there are always exceptions to the rules. This likewise goes for the supposed invincibility of aethraships. Though, admittedly, if I am being entirely fair… the exceptions in this case are… few and far between.”

The vunerian snapped his fingers yet again, prompting the scene to shift to a well-defended keep built into the side of a mountain range. What little visible structural elements existed were bristling with weapon platforms. Familiar ballista emplacements were this time accompanied by more foreign implements, ranging from large arcane crystal towers to what appeared to be the colossal mouth of some weaponized trombone.

Whimsy notwithstanding, the whole scene posed a far more intense matchup than the newrealm scenario we’d been shown earlier.

And this was demonstrated in no short order, as entrenched mountain defenses engaged an approaching enemy from a distance at the very edges of visual range.

Ilunor would be quick to narrate each and every weapons platform, and just like Thalmin, he had a lot to say about their specifics.

The ballistae fired what appeared to be mana-seeking bolts that trailed, traced, and went for the ‘hottest’ parts of the ships — the very nacelles keeping them aloft.

However, this was countered relatively comfortably by a host of ship-borne defenses. From active countermeasures such as ballistae that fired the equivalent of magical proximity-fused flak projectiles that attempted to blow up the incoming missiles, to more passive measures such as the aforementioned ‘shield’ that was rapidly projected by the ship’s masts and sails. The latter of which caused those would-be missiles to slam futilely into an invisible barrier made momentarily visible by the cut-off edges of its explosive fireball. In short, the incoming bolts were systematically accosted, with only a few managing to inflict damage on the more specialized vessels lacking either the active measures of the smaller sloops or the sheer defensive measures of the larger frigates.

The crystal towers did exactly as I’d expected them to — they fired lightning and the occasional magical laser analogue.

It was the last weapon, however, that seemed most novel, as the trombone-like emplacement fired what Ilunor described as condensed gusts of pressurized air at the ships, which either resulted in no damage being dealt whatsoever or the sort of damage one would expect from a hurricane wrecking an ancient ship.

“It all depends on if they can overcome the ship’s innate defensive enchantments.” Ilunor explained, quickly highlighting how the very same defensive enchantments that kept the ship from breaking apart at high speeds were the ones responsible for keeping the ship impervious to these wind-based weapons.

The engagement lasted far longer than the newrealm one, as the ships were quick to maneuver themselves into positions where broadsides were brought to bear.

Then after a second’s pause, they unleashed their own special form of untempered rage.

Explosions erupted outside and around the mountain complex as expected.

But what came next really did make me somewhat impressed.

The complex erupted from the inside out. Either one of the bolts had managed to slip its way through a window or a narrow slit, or drilled straight through the complex before detonating.

“Impressive.” I offered, and in doing so, managed to garner one of the most earnest smiles from the blue thing.

“Your praise is well placed, Emma Booker.” He bowed dramatically.

“But this does bring up another question.” I shot back.

“Oh?”

“What exactly are your engagement distances? Furthermore, was it just me, or were those bolts fired at below the speed of sound?”

Ilunor blinked at that, his mouth opening slightly, before he actively pondered that question.

“There are a great many ways of addressing your questions, earthrealmer, but it ultimately all depends on the circumstances. For the former, most ships are able to fire as far as the eye can see, though they are capable of seeing further than what you may think. As for the latter, yes. They were slower than the speeds at which our voices are carried.”

I nodded slowly, as an intrusive yet brilliant idea quickly took root in the recesses of my mind, growing increasingly more daring until it finally prompted me to mute and address the EVI.

“EVI?”

“Yes, Cadet Booker?”

“I have an idea. Can you load up and snip together some explosion footage for me, as well as some supersonic and hypersonic booms for the audio? Then port them over to the tablet, and warm up the survey drone. We’re going to push the tablet’s holo projection capabilities to the max.”

…

“Affirmative. Note: mana-mediated holographic projection may overpower the limited brightness of the tablet’s volumetric emitters. Does operator still wish to proceed?”

“Yes. I might not end up going through with it anyways, but just in case… I want to make sure I have the option open to me.”

…

“Acknowledged.”

“Ahem, earthrealmer? I said, why do you ask?” Ilunor chimed in, pulling me back into the real world.

“I was just curious, is all. Your claims over the skies being something of a lynchpin domain of warfare are correct in many respects. But it’s the quality of what actually occupies that domain that I’m really trying to wrap my head around here.”

“Oh? Quality is it?” Ilunor snapped back with a confident swagger. “Earthrealmer… you’ve seen what they are capable of! Any manner of enchanted bolt is capable of being fired from these vessels. Every form of active enchantment is capable of being sustained. Every corner of every world is capable of being reached with impunity! What more can you ask from the pinnacle of aerial supremacy?”

“Can you actually see beyond the horizon? Engage with opponents without seeing them?” I countered, not with any malice or sense of superiority but simply out of genuine curiosity.

Ilunor, for his part, responded rather maturely, snapping his fingers and bringing us to one of the frigate’s forecastles. We entered through a pair of beautifully ornate — and supposedly enchanted — double doors. From there, we were met with a large obsidian table, one which spanned a good half of the room, with various cutaways allowing for its users to take several steps into the platform itself, if only to get a better view of the contents atop it.

It soon became clear why it was designed that way, as the top of this obsidian platform suddenly filled with a fine off-white powder, its consistency somewhere halfway between volcanic ash and picturesque seaside sand.

Several figures entered the fray the moment the sand had filled the platform, as one in particular — dressed in finery unseen amidst the rest of the crew — began lifting her hand above this strange contraption.

The implications were clear. She was clearly a noble, and a mage of some sort.

“A map-seer.” Thalmin uttered, clarifying matters.

Visible pulses rippled all throughout this powdery material, eventually evolving into something far more than just the sort of concentric pulsing you’d expect to see from a thick layer of dust rippling atop a giant speaker.

What at first was just a pile of fine sand soon rose into sharp and disparate towers, each only a few grains wide. This happened across the board, however, in such rapidity and frequency that it soon evolved into the makings of a smooth, seamless animation. Eventually, it coalesced into a topographical representation of the ship’s surroundings, creating a live facsimile of the world beyond the confines of this forecastle, and even—

“Behold.” Ilunor interrupted as the scale of the map was quick to expand exponentially.

We zoomed out by several orders of magnitude, at which point we found ourselves looking not just at the immediate vicinity or local area, but one more resembling that of an entire country or region.

“You ask for our means of navigation, our ability to engage beyond the sightlines. Well, here you are.” The vunerian beamed.

“But this does require a mage.” I clarified.

“It does, yes.” Ilunor acquiesced. “But as is often the case with these vessels, you will typically find at least a single mage assigned to captain either a group or an entire wing of aethraships. After all, not everyone is a battlemage.” The executive kobold paused before gesturing at Thalmin. “As… honorable as such a path may be, there are various other paths for those finding themselves born on the fringes of a noble or royal household to follow. Some elect to become the living embodiment of hard power, whilst others elect to become the facilitators of said endeavors, concerning themselves instead with the meticulous study and scholarship involved with such ventures. You’ve already seen portal mages who turn distances into but an afterthought, yes? Well, map-seers are simply another extension of such niche endeavors. After all, the ranks of the nobility are plentiful, and the lives led by these men, women, and more are oftentimes far less… ambitious than that of you, I, or any of us.”

I slowly nodded as Ilunor had suddenly opened up an entirely new tangent with which my mind was inexplicably drawn to.

But I had to veer away from it, attempting to shake myself from the gravity well of divergent interests as I was forced to exercise maximum executive discipline over an overstimulated mind.

This battle was eventually won, but by that point, the vunerian had placed us back on the ground, watching from below as these hulking terror weapons from the age of sail floated silently above us.

“So as you can see, earthrealmer. We can see beyond the horizon, witness events beyond the eye of the beholder, from any time, at any place, entirely at our fancy!”

I watched on with the same thoughtful expression I wore for most of this presentation, staring up from the ground to simply marvel at these aerial juggernauts, set beneath literal demigods floating above them.

I could only imagine what the average adjacent commoner would’ve felt upon seeing these monstrosities.

One can only imagine how small, how powerless, how utterly… enfeebled the mere presence of such a war machine would’ve made even the most hardened of generals feel.

The whole scene was the perfect capstone for any would-be adjacency that would even dare to challenge Nexian supremacy, as the image of these unchallenged forces hovering high above would be enough of a message for even the most obtuse and stubborn of hubristic nobles to internalize.

But I wasn’t any of the above.

And I certainly was ready to show it, through a party trick inspired entirely by the vunerian himself.

“EVI?”

“Yes, Cadet Booker?”

“Let’s put on an airshow.”

“Acknowledged.”

The little project I’d been working on throughout this whole presentation had finally rendered and taken shape. It was a gamble at first, given how I’d only had a hunch as to how Ilunor would’ve ended this whole thing.

But thankfully, the executive kobold was nothing if not predictable whenever he went on these power trips.

“Well then, Cadet Emma Booker… what say you to the raw and unadulterated power of magical warfare, hmm?” He beamed, prompting me to gently unclip my wrist-mounted tablet, grab a hold of one of my survey drones, before gently attaching the tablet in question to the small disc-shaped drone’s undercarriage.

“I see a little problem here, Ilunor.”

“Oh? Pray tell, what is this oh so minor grievance you may have, hmm?”

“They’re a bit too… big if you don’t mind me saying. Big, and a bit too prone to loitering out in the open, and clumped together at that.”

The vunerian’s eyes narrowed as he huffed up a small sooty storm. “And precisely how is that an issue? We have seen the devastation wrought in their wake, have we not? We have witnessed how they have outclassed, outmaneuvered, outperformed, and completely rendered armies to dust beneath their heels! So what if they’re close together? That’s all the more concentrated defensive enchantments to overlap with one another! All the more weapons with which to concentrate fire! All the more raw power to wield!”

“It’s a target-rich environment.”

“Excuse me?”

“TACCOM, Pilot Two.” I spoke out loud, prompting the EVI to fill in the role of the receiving comms officer.

“TACCOM, go.” The EVI shot back in a synthesized voice eerily similar to my own, if only to avoid the topic of the second voice in my helmet, though at the cost of making me sound like I was roleplaying.

“30 hostile contacts, altitude five thousand, bearing zero-eight-seven. Request immediate atmo support.”

There was a moment of pause.

And then…

“Pilot Two, TACCOM. Request approved. Two birds inbound. Weapons hot.”

I quickly let loose the drone as it took altitude and began hovering menacingly just in front of the aethraship projections with the tablet in claw.

Nothing was visualized just yet, neither the strike craft nor its payload. No sounds emanated from its speakers either, leaving no hint of what was to come.

Everything was still.

“I do not see what—”

Until it wasn’t.

KA-BOOOOMMMMM!

A series of rapid-fire explosions filled the clear blue skies above, as each and every loitering vessel was punched through with projectiles unseen and still yet unheard.

Though this seemingly glaring oversight too was quick to be rectified, as but a second or too later came a terrible, powerful, shrill shrieking noise.

“Our dragons only roar after the fact.” I grinned widely. “I thought that’d be pretty prudent to note.”

Another loud boom followed many seconds later, acting as the only audible evidence of the strike craft that had long since delivered its payload.

The associated contrails of the hypersonic payloads in question were visible alongside what remained of the once-proud fleet, as projections of fireballs and debris had now taken their place.

I took my place in front of the group, standing just in front of the burning mass of wreckage with my arms outstretched.

“A rule of thumb about contemporary warfare… death often comes before you even hear the bell tolling.”