Three great warships approached the northern tip of the Schweiglands. Two cruisers, each carrying six guns in two turrets, trailed behind the massive flagship that had twice the armament. The blue flag of the hydra and crossed tridents fluttered atop the sole battleship. Not far behind these heavily armed ships were two vessels. They were much smaller with fewer weapons, yet they appeared armored. Aboard these were men in blue and white uniforms who carried either swords or guns. They were watching the rugged coast tensely as the sea cradled their vehicles past each islet.

  On the flagship's bridge were two men whose clothing stood out among the sailors manning the controls. One was a portly gentleman whose overcoat hung on his shoulders; the other was a towering man who donned a suit of rigid yet well-sloped metal plates.

  "Two thousand men, and the pride of the Southern Fleet: all these to be committed to a ghost map, Cecil. This has to be right, or we'll have eggs on our faces," said the bearded man with a hanging overcoat. He scanned the horizon with a pair of binoculars: nothing but the open ocean was seen ahead. "Surely our peers at Blaurosen would laugh at us if we got nothing from this. Did we spend all this time going after a specter? Nobody in their right mind would consider this."

  "We are close, Ludwig. All we need to do is follow this map. Trust me, this group is different from what the Constabulary normally faces." Cecil's right hand crumpled into a steely fist. "A great victory is ahead of us once we have breached the Gray Fox's hideout."

  "That is, if we can. There's nothing but water here, Cecil. And I'm supposed to believe this map of yours if it's leading us nowhere." The other commanding officer took his pipe and blew a puff; a fading white cloud dissolved upon ascent.

  "Perhaps changing our angle of approach will unveil the location. Such a large part of the Schweiglands cannot be swallowed by the sea so instantly."

  One of the control deck officers leaped up to the commanders after confirming something using the ship's telescope.

  "You must see this, Admiral!"

  When Ludwig approached the telescope, it was shifted to the left. It was an unnatural prismatic field; some walls seemed invisible to the untrained eye, but the gentle waves betrayed the deception. The waters slapped at something vertical, but there should have been nothing but more ocean beyond.

  "By the One Most High, Cecil. I've never seen anything like this!"

  "So this is the concealment technology those from Intelligence told me of. To think a syndicate leader has access to this kind of machinery."

  Ludwig made one glance at his staff member, followed by a nod. His gaze returned to Cecil before saying, "We'll neutralize as many of the enemy defenses as we can, if there are any. As always, the beach and beyond are yours."

  "I'll assemble the men." Lord Cecil von Schild put his helmet on. His voice became a hollow vibration as his breath passed through the mouthpiece.

  "Take care out there. The Creator's protection be with you and your command."

  Heavy footsteps rang on Cecil's descent from the bridge; sailors stood out of the armored man's path as he was half-sprinting out of the area. A smaller vessel tethered to the side of the warship was waiting for Cecil. Two men dressed in a different shade of blue from the battleship's sailors were working inside. One was prepared for the general's entry while the other was starting the engines. They were at a considerable distance from the massive vessel by the time they could hear the noise of the main turrets being turned.

  Meanwhile, Cecil's boat stopped at the two ships in the rear. They carried less armament than the main fighting platforms in front. Anvil-shaped profiles were nearly flat, except for the small superstructure and a front box turret. The general boarded the left ship. He watched the boat where he came from leave the area. Soldiers scrambled inside, assembling at the wide space in front.

  Cecil climbed up the bridge just in time to hear sirens from the flagship leading the formation. She moved to reveal her broadside. Four turrets, housing three guns each. These armaments were almost a third of the troop vessel he was in charge of. Thunderous fire was forced out of one of the cannons. The shell struck the lower right of the unseen wall and became a cloud of flame. The wind blew by, revealing the aurora-like barrier left undisturbed by the massive artillery shell sent to challenge it.

  The rest of the battery remained silent. Tube-like launchers at the top of the flagship expelled four cylinders. They left trails of wispy lines; crystalline warheads gleamed in the sun before disintegrating into sparks that clattered at something they struck above. The barrier didn't break. It peeled, like glass surrendering to heat. Beyond it, spires and weapons blinked into view: an apparition of a daunting enemy surfacing from memory. Some of the towers caught fire.

  It was a strange sight: the largest guns the fortress bore fired as if in panic. Cecil saw enemy shells crash; towering jets of water rose and splashed at the battleship—a call to a duel that seeks to be answered with equal force.

  One cannon flash after another, the fortress attempted to sink the flotilla. A shell struck the flagship in her armored belt: a giant cloud of black, followed by small fires, but it hardly dented the grand war vessel. She traded shells in kind; a screeching delivery from the first front turret pierced through one of the fortress's northeast guns. There was smoke, followed by a blast that reduced the installation to flaming rubble. The two cruisers split from the formation, each in an opposite direction from the other. If any of the coastal cannons scored a hit, they wouldn't have the armor to shrug off the blast.

  Cecil needed no binoculars to see what came next. Another gun slumped into collapse, its casing blasted apart. The island's defenses were running out of options as its most potent artillery pieces were put out of action. Seeing the major threats of the fortress's north and west gun placements end in thunderous destruction meant it was time for him to join the men below.

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  The landing ships pushed forward; one of the cruisers was nearby, shelling the smaller defenses that occupied the beaches. Cecil heard and felt the enemy's cannonade knock on the troop carrier's armored prow; it did not take long before the ship's armament fired in response. A slight tremor, followed by the rattle of the floor, confirmed they had hit land. Their part of the battle was fast-approaching.

  Lord Cecil was the first to come out of the transport. One of the wall emplacements caught sight of him landing and fired a shell at the vessel after lowering its ramp. He raised his shield after seeing the gun barrel pointed down at the craft. Down came an ear-grating screech, followed by a swirling blanket of red and yellow flames that gave rise to a dense black cloud. Black smoke gave way to a solid triangle of light radiating from the commander's shield. It took the force of the explosion, preventing any damage to the beached ship. Commander and soldiers braved the defenses after a well-placed shell from the cruiser behind them brought down the large iron door that led to the interior of the coastal facility. Cecil gave a quick look at his men; the gleaming sword pointed at the now-opened gates.

  "Forward!"

  Most of the opposing batteries were reduced to flaming ruins by the Albertan navy men; what enemy cannons remained intact were abandoned by the fortress defenders as they regrouped, bracing for the unavoidable attack. They ran towards the fortress interior - the next stage of the battle. Some of the vanguard units were pulled out; wounded they were, it was worth the scattering of enemy resistance.

  Windows of the first and third buildings were converted to firing holes; the garrisoned men opened fire at the advancing blue wave and retreated or cowered behind the thick walls. Isolated teams of men attempted to amass into a better force, only to be stopped by the Empire's rifles when they came out of hiding. The fortress defenders who dared take a peek and fire at the rushing soldiers were taken down by Albertan snipers. Some managed to trade shots with their pursuers while withdrawing to the fortress's more defensible areas.

  In minutes, the first and third buildings of the fortress compound were cleared; tongues of fire and bodies of enemy fighters dotted the corridors. Some of them traded bullets with the Albertan troops on their way out of the contested zones.

  A company under the Duke of Alberta's command detached from the main attack force and headed toward the great tower; there was a cavity on its top section that disturbed the building's conical form. Cecil found it not possible for those canisters to damage fortifications to such a great extent; something must have happened before their attack. The general caught sight of two dozen men fleeing from the firefight; half of them were wearing long white garb, laboratory outfits. One of the escapees caught the commander's attention - a man with a metal left hand. The artificial limb brought something back from an old report he read:

  "The Gray Fox was rumored to be one-armed."

  Cecil's units went after the fleeing enemy. Two dozen riflemen and four swordsmen pursued the escaping assembly but halted when the doors of the fourth building burst open; the wood and metal barrier scraped the ground and stopped with a soft crash. What the soldiers saw after the scuds of dust settled delayed them further. A giant rock-skinned creature towered above the Albertan combatants. It stared at the group with a dumb face; its crystal-toothed mouth hung agape. Lord Cecil stood in front of his men; he was further intrigued by the metal crown the creature wore. The red stone at the center glowed once; the creature let out an agonized roar and hammered both fists to the ground before it charged at the blue-uniformed formation.

  "Captain, continue the pursuit." Cecil addressed a sword-wielding officer to his right before raising his shield at the rushing giant. The swordsman nodded in affirmation and led the rest of the company out of the enraged beast's path.

  His blue cape fluttered in the wind; the Duke of Alberta held his sword tight with the point held away. The monster lifted a stony fist, pumping a punch from the shoulder. There was a loud clang, followed by the sounds of scraped earth and brimstone. The force of the blow that could crush anyone only sent the soldier a few steps away from where he stood.

  "Strong indeed..."

  Shield poised ahead, Cecil lunged at the behemoth and met another shattering punch. The sword strike came from below; its blade came in contact with the creature's other arm. Both forces were canceled out; the monster's arm flailed as Cecil's grip on his weapon wobbled. His arm managed to control the trembling blade before he stepped back and assumed a shielding stance.

  "I can't wound this creature with these strikes... where can its soft spots be?"

  Again, the weapon was pointed away. Light took over the silvery sheen of the sword until it bore a soft white glow. Cecil charged; his weapon hummed in the advance. The opposing giant must have realized the new attack and responded by hammering both fists at him. There was a ground-shattering crash that sent pieces of the floor flying into the air. He used the force of the blow to dodge the strike to the left. He used the half-buried limbs as leverage to give the sword the space it needed.

  The general's impetuous swing allowed the sword to find its way to the monster's neck and pass through it in a shrill falsetto slurp. Black fluid oozed out of the wound, followed by the giant's head rolling to the ground. A soft grumble traveled and was absorbed by the earth when the creature was brought to its knees.

  The creature collapsed, leaking black fluid onto the scorched floor. Cecil steadied his sword, but his mind reeled. If this was a mere guardian... what did it try to protect?

  Cecil leaped back from the now-decapitated opponent; his sword returned to its natural metallic hue. He rallied a fresh squad to follow the first pursuing group and led them to an undefended fifth building. The leader of the first group was at the entrance; the rest of the soldiers formed an arc at the open doorway to the interior.

  "We caught up with most of them; only three managed to take refuge here. Your orders, my Lord?"

  "I need you and a dozen others with me. Have the rest block all the exits."

  "Right away." The captain placed a right fist on his chest before shouting orders to the awaiting soldiers.

  The general's group was led to a white hall devoid of the Gray Fox's guns. Inside the first floor was another open doorway leading to an empty chamber. The masked man with a mechanical left arm awaited his would-be captors. Only two men in laboratory gowns were with him; their guns were brandished at the entering troops.

  "Cast your arms aside and come with us, Gray Fox." The hulking armored commander was in front of his men; his sword pointed at the beaten syndicate leader.

  "Remarkable. You have dispatched my creature so easily. I did not expect my time to flee from here would be cut so short." The crime lord scanned the Albertan troops on the other side of the chamber; rifle bolts clicked and clacked, everyone ready to fire on command. "Regardless of my predicament now, your efforts are all but a small delay in my plans. I have no intention of being stopped here."

  "Your profane work ends here. Surrender, as the Empire decrees it." General Schild addressed the surrounding party. He took two steps closer to them. "What is left of your men will soon fall with your bastion."