"GLORY TO OGHUZ KHAGAN! BLESSING TO OUR GREAT ANCESTOR AND VICTORY TO THE OGHUZ PEOPLE"

  I

  hear those words yelled out as the elevator creeks and slows to a

  crawl. I am greeted with the inner guts of my Command Citadel. It's a

  labyrinth of rattletrap factories and fusion reactors down here.

  Steelworks rain down sparks unto gray metal, the light of molten metal

  and humming fusion reactors giving this place lighting akin to the fiery

  pits of hell, and there is the constant noise of metal slamming into

  metal and men drinking.

  Showtime.

  The

  elevator door shudders and slides open. Two armed men dressed in thick

  green military uniforms who are more machine than Human greet me, limbs

  replaced with bulky gunmetal grey cybernetics and 15 millimeter caliber

  machine guns in hand. My own guard of Astral Knights, clad in clean

  white armor covered in runes and wielding swords and lances wreathed in

  holy light, open a path for me.

  One

  of the men, his face so modified by cybernetics that it was simply flat

  metal, reaches forward. I clasp his right hand in my left and bring him

  into my embrace, a smile on my face.

  "Hey

  Chagri! How's life holding up? How's Charlotte?" My right hand pats his

  hard metal shoulder repeatedly. My helmetless face twists into a grin

  as my green eyes meet the blank metallic flatness of his face.

  "Ah,

  my Begum sits at home managing the kins logistics and developing their

  machinery. As for how she is…. Well, you know how shit is. Sometimes

  it's good and sometimes it's bad, but you are still bound together by

  Fate. Are any of the maids—"

  "Attendants."

  "Yeah,

  attendants. Are any of them complaining about the smell of dried blood

  up there on the surface? I'd hate to ruin the idealistic Jannah they

  have set up on the surface with the smell." His voice box rumbles as he

  speaks.

  "Absolutely not.

  Listen, I need to make an announcement. Don't worry about when the next

  fight will be. We're nearly there. It's just that we're having a…. stop

  over before the beginning of operations. Tell your clanners to lock in

  and get ready."

  We walk

  past steel mills manned by ensouled automata pumping out weaponry for

  the coming battle—antimatter grenade launchers marked with anti-demon

  runes, shoulder mounted fusion missiles, 15 millimeter caliber rifles

  and handguns with plasma fields coating their slugs—standard stuff. This

  was what lies at the beating heart of every Command Citadel. Hundreds

  of kilometers of steelworks and fusion reactor guts to fuel the endless

  grinding war machine.

  While

  me and Chagri converse, my knights stand out within the orange

  lighting, their pure white armor without a blemish on it creating a

  contrast with the dirty industry of the Oghuz. They are all elegant

  gaited and disciplined in their movement but I can sense the unease

  underneath them, how their muscles are drawn tight and bodies tensed.

  I

  still remember what it was like when I announced the alliance with the

  Sujuk clan of Oghuz, they still thought of me as some desert dwelling

  savage who only earned his command through a distant ancestor and a

  close duel with the previous grandmaster, I'd wager they still do now. I

  had to reorganize my guard so one of them doesn't murder me while I am

  sleeping, had to negotiate with several Manichaean bishops who

  threatened condemnation, I was lucky that I had gained a good enough

  know-how with a hardlight sword that I could defend my leadership with

  violence if necessary.

  Chagri

  was a lifeline back then. He had to deal with a lot of shit on his end

  and I am sure any other Khan would have rejected my alliance. So I owe

  him this.

  "So, you found a

  woman to call yours?" Chagri asks. "A man fights best when he has a

  woman telling him to get back up or she will leave him. That's what my

  Nur taught me." He chuckles and I hope to God that the surrounding

  steelwork disguises the heat rushing to my face.

  I

  think about him—that effeminate guy from yesterday, the one with Albino

  skin and pale white hair done up in a ponytail with bangs that

  highlighted his brilliant blue eyes. Sweat runs down my spine and the

  dark skin of my back, and it is only partially from the sparks raining

  down around me. My hand shakes and an unearthly, demonic, growl rings

  out within my head. The roar of the unholy knight who reigns over

  warfare, the vengeful demon of the battlefield—the infernal spirit

  holding the title of Duke, Eligos.

  I

  pause and clutch the metal walls for a minute, nausea sweeping through

  me. The titanic spiritual form of Eligos rumbles and writhes in my soul,

  like a great snake crushing my mind in its coils.

  "Hey, starman. You alright?" I hear Chagri at the edge of my senses.

  Goddamnit

  Argetlam. You losing your willpower in your 400s? You getting slow yet?

  One day your hair will turn white and the shadow that you have been

  suppressing all this time will consume you. You'll be just another

  memory in the shroud. Just like your Emperor. Just like your comrades.

  How's Lady Makeda by the way?

  Shut

  up! Oh my God just shut up! I don't care about your shit, Eligos! You

  give me power and I give you experience and perspective. That's our

  deal, and I'd quite like you to shut the hell up before I rescind that

  deal.

  The Transcendent One does what I tell him and retreats. The pressure at the back of my mind goes away.

  The

  Demon God cannot comprehend chivalry. The notions of Honor and Glory

  are utterly unfathomable for the Transcendent One. He could never

  understand why humans would throw their lives away for a higher

  cause—Not even after he had observed countless wars and walked through a

  million battlefields. Yet this ideal of "honorable death" and "glorious

  sacrifice" continues to fascinate him. So he experiences the world

  through my eyes and tries to understand why humans are the way they are

  and why they do the things they do. He's just an asshole about it at

  times.

  "You okay?"

  I

  am still with Chagri, I remember. I hold up my right hand and run my

  other hand through my mullet. "Yeah. Yeah. It's just…. The Djinn is

  acting up again."

  Chagri

  stares at me, and, though his flat mechanical face cannot have

  expressions, I am sure that he is judging me. I have an appearance to

  keep.

  "Hey!" I snap back. "Stop looking at me like that. I'm not getting slow damnit!"

  Chagri just shrugs and mutters, "Whatever you say, Devilman."

  The

  scene around us shifts as we pass by less augmented Oghuz slumped over

  drunk on the walls and floors as the noise of men drinking, giving

  boisterous speeches, and metal clashing against metal intensifies. The

  scent of beer and smoked beef hits my nostrils, and drool piles up in my

  mouth. I swallow and resist the urge to start salivating. I have an

  image to keep in front of my soldiers.

  When

  we enter the halls of the Oghuz, the noise becomes overwhelming. The

  halls are massive, stretching for kilometers and thronging with

  thousands of Oghuz, subterranean cities filled with millions and

  shrouded in eternal night. They are all in celebratory moods, as it's

  before the next battle. Men and women alike drink and feast while

  watching holo-films, smoking Hashish, and giving speeches. Some duel and

  test their prowess, steel pounding against steel when they clash, and

  others perform theatrical plays and sing ancient songs.

  That's

  the thing. For the Oghuz, War is supposed to be an emptying of emotion.

  It's supposed to be a dance, even if it's to the death and pitiless.

  There's a sort of romantic pageantry and heart pounding emotional

  catharsis when battle is joined. When you look into your enemy's eyes

  and you know the battle means as much to him as it does to you. The

  feeling that you are both reaching for the peak of your abilities, and

  you are settling your dispute in a way more elegant and more glorious

  than any other.

  As much as

  Oghuz culture is built upon battle, as much as every aspect of their

  society is built upon violence and war, they love life. They are deeply

  glad to be alive and are enjoying every moment of existence. There is no

  sense of shame. They embrace this world unlike the Knights who reject

  it.

  A smile lights up the

  edge of my face. I truly can relate. But the thing is that you require

  discipline as much as pageantry. You need a sense of delayed

  gratification and patience for victory.

  I

  have to wrangle them into position to focus. I walk across to a great

  bridge over which I oversee the great celebrating masses of the Oghuz,

  long wooden tables and tents stretching out for what seems like

  kilometers and in the distance are the great armories and vehicle pools

  of the Oghuz.

  "Everyone. I would like to make an announcement."

  Nothing. The noise is too loud. One of my knights glances at me and then at each other.

  "I would like to make an announcement." I raise my voice this time.

  Again, nothing.

  I

  signal to Chagri, motioning to him. He is leaning against a steel

  railing next to me, his head leaned back and his machine gun at his

  side with its buttstock on the floor and two of his fingers holding the

  barrel up. "Hey, can you entangle with them and transmit my voice?" I

  ask as he toys with his gun with his fingers, balancing it back and

  forth.

  "You know. You could just call upon that Djinns powers to force your will upon them and make them listen to you.."

  I

  wave my hand in a dismissive manner. "Nah, Eligos only lends his power

  to me in battle and usually just the bare minimum to keep alive. He is

  one of those heathens who thinks war is just a matter of fighting harder

  and having a bigger gun than your enemy and that stuff like logistics

  and leadership don't matter."

  I realize that little slip in my persona too late.

  "Calm

  down there with the fancy language. 'heathens' HAH! No wonder Eligos

  chose you. Maybe I have been speaking with the shamans and elders too

  much but can't you just argue that you are engaging in battle with

  disorder by ordering others around?"

  I

  shake my head. "Nah, he doesn't think that counts." I can't handle

  anymore of this conversation. I need to end it and get to work. A sigh

  exits me as I block off his next reply and tell him "Just shut up and do

  it."

  Support the creativity of authors by visiting Royal Road for this novel and more.

  A small blue light shines at the base of his neck and I take a deep breath, clearing my throat a bit before—

  "EVERYONE SHUT UP AND LISTEN TO ME! I AM LORD ARGETLAM OF THE ASTRAL KNIGHTS, AND I HAVE AN ANNOUNCEMENT TO MAKE!"

  That

  catches their attention. The noise stops, all drinking and eating

  freezes. A number of flickering blue lights, individually tiny yet

  luminous in their thousands, fill the halls. The flicker of a resonance

  through the collective consciousness. My brown face is colored in the

  hue of quantum entanglement.

  I clear my throat again before speaking again. "In 28 standard hours

  we will arrive within the space of a Magnitude 14 Rakshasa swarm.

  Composition seems to be mainly of the Indomitable and Illuminate broods.

  No confirmed Rakshasa nobility in the area of operation but I still

  wouldn't leave it to chance."

  "However,

  the unfortunate announcement I would like to make is that we will be

  assisted by a task force from the Celestial Ecumene of Tian'Chao

  containing the Baise De Fleet and the 'Munch fleet of Oni. Please make

  sure to be on your best behavior. Don't embarrass me, goddamnit."

  A pause as Chagri turns off his comms link and I take a deep breath.

  Then

  the hall erupts in outrage with a cacophony of mixed boos and arguing.

  Chagri's companion looks at me, his eyes covered by red goggles and his

  face concealed by cloth yet I can feel his outrage as his mechanical

  hands clench and unclench slightly. A pair of Oghuz rush to my side of

  the bridge and draw their blades. "As founded by the conquering Khan and

  up held by the kin, we challenge you to defend the honor of the clan.

  Meet us in sacred battle you cowards!"

  I don't give them the dignity of looking me in the eyes as my guard take defensive positions around me.

  This

  is to be expected. See, here's the thing. There are two founding myths

  for the Oghuz people—the Nine Li Tribes as the Dragon Kingdom calls

  them.

  The Oghuz version is

  that of the revered ancestor, the great conqueror, Oghuz Khagan. He

  started talking as soon as he was born, becoming a full-grown warrior

  after just 40 days. In his youth, he went on to slay the Armored Dragon

  Kiyant, and gained the loyalty of his people. When he became old enough

  to become a khan, he deposed his wicked and incompetent father. He then

  unified the tribes of the Steppes, and set forth to conquer the Four

  Corners of the Galaxy.

  Oghuz

  married two powerful Elemental Spirits. The first was a Heavenly Fairy

  born of sunlight, who bore him Gun, Ay and Yildiz—the Sun, Moon, and

  Stars. The second was an Earthly Fairy born of a sacred tree, who gave

  birth to Gok, Dag, and Deniz—the Sky, the Mountain, and the Sea.

  It

  is said that from these six sons came the Twenty Four Oghuz Clans, each

  bearing their own Sky Crest called Tamgha and Guardian Spirits called

  Ongon.

  Then there's the Tian'Chao version.

  According

  to one of the Great Classics of Tian'Chao, the Shangshu, humans are by

  nature peaceful and devoid of disharmony. Disorder was not a natural

  condition of the World, but rather a creation of the harbinger of chaos,

  Chiyou.

  "(Disorder)

  spread to the peaceful people, and everyone became robbers and

  thieves—rapacious, villainous, and traitorous—grabbing, plundering,

  lying, and killing."

  According

  to this mythology, disorder, conflict, strife and violence were an

  outside imposition on an otherwise peaceful population; a primordial,

  original evil imparted the concept of chaos and disorder upon the World.

  Therefore, it became necessary for the earliest rulers to learn how to

  control this disorder.

  "it cannot be helped that we do evil things; Chiyou turned us into beings capable of doing evil."

  And his followers, his army of demonic beasts, madmen, and miscreants—they became the Oghuz people.

  I think I'm gonna have a headache. I'll try to work something out with whatever bureaucrat the Tian'Chao send.

  But

  before that I lean against the steel railing with my back slouched and

  my elbows on the rail. "I didn't think we'd be meeting with the

  Dragon-bureaucrats y'know. Not just that but a fleet of Oni too. You

  really should have picked anyone else to ally with you know." Chagri

  butts in with his elbow holding up his body as he leans on his side

  toward me.

  "Listen, nobody

  else would answer. Just trust me on this. We are low on numbers and we

  needed to match their magnitude. Why even get so angry about this?

  Aren't you people supposed to be all about celebrating life and living

  in the moment? Why fixate on ancient history."

  His

  voice drops and he speaks the next few words with dead seriousness,

  "There are laws that are passed down over generations, from Khan to Khan

  by the Primordial Khagan himself. Despite how much we treasure freedom,

  There are certain things that all clans are forbidden from indulging

  in. They are few but they do exist."

  "Principal

  upon them is conquest and settlement in any form. We may ransack a

  kingdom and bleed it dry or work as mercenaries for non-clan but we may

  never know any home other than our own or permanently take land in any

  forms. You know why? You cannot rule the galaxy on horseback, settlement

  requires a complete change in our culture and identity. What was once a

  connected identity in the clan splinters into nations then families and

  houses. We are one but we are many and we deem it better to die who you

  are than live without culture, an identity to define yourself by."

  "You can see why we don't get along with a bunch of control freaks who want to unite all peoples in one nation under heaven."

  An

  amused huff exists me. "I take it you're an old fashioned type who is

  obsessed with customs and tradition. I can relate but tell me, what

  about it when those traditions are regressive or holding you back from

  being better? What then?"

  "Then

  we pull them out while planting the seed for something new. Remember,

  we are one but we are many. We are not defined by our origins. The

  material conditions of an individual may shape how they act but they

  still possess the freedom to change themselves and their environment

  however they see fit. An individual can change while remaining himself.

  It is not change that we fear but cultural extinction, to live on

  without the identity that we once knew.."

  Well,

  it does make sense when he puts it that way. Everything flows. Panta

  Rhei. Everything is destined to change one day and one must accept that.

  "Don't you think it's a bit cowardly to fear change or having to

  develop a new identity like that? The Oni are also connected well with

  the Tian Ecumene. There should be no contradiction between your ideals

  and being part of a Nation." I have had to develop a new identity and

  destroy who I once was more than a few times. I know that great fear

  when you are aiming for something new. I'm fairly fine with this facade

  now.

  "There's a difference

  between being tolerated and being welcomed. Didn't I tell you?

  Cooperation is not the same as connection. Please leave now. I feel

  exhausted and need the company of my wife. Leave me be."

  A smile grazes my face. "Very well then. You seemed like you had gotten into a bad mood anyways. I'll be seeing you."

  I close my eyes and feel Honorius's hands dip me into the holy water head first.

  "To

  serve God, verily such is the true purpose of all existence. A soul's

  worth is determined by the merit of their servitude. Rejoice, fallen

  one—for even a demon may become an angel in service of the Lord."

  A

  great scream rings out in my ears as Eligos writhes under my flesh. The

  Holy Water melts away at its spiritual form like acid through flesh,

  the meaning inscribed within it by humanity as antithetical to Demonkind

  biting into it and purifying the demon. It feels… weird. Like a

  stinging electric shock running under my skin and through my nerves, but

  it hurts him far more than it hurts me.

  Honorius starts singing at the edge of my hearing. A final benediction to properly suppress the demonic duke. "Oh

  Agnus Dei, qui tollis peccata mundi, dona eis requiem. Lux ?terna

  luceat eis, Domine: Cum Sanctis tuis in ?ternum: quia pius es."

  The

  words themselves date back to Old Earth. To some first Imperial era

  religion that would became assimilated into Manichaeism once it became

  clear that man's belief and observations on the world did more than just

  provide comfort and an arbitrary sense of meaning.

  I

  think about why I made my contract with Eligos. He will never

  understand us. Why do we bleed and die for things like ideals, nations,

  religions, ideologies? We bleed because our lives are short, because we

  individually are weak and so have no choice but to band together and

  rally behind things like gods, flags, ideologies…anything you can think

  of really. Our ability to subordinate our own happiness or the happiness

  of those around us in service of higher, long term ideals is the source

  of all noble and monstrous acts.

  You

  could never understand. Any understanding you have of our struggle, our

  striving, the knowledge of our inevitable death and the weight of our

  every action. It is a condescending, patronizing understanding. You pity

  us but don't understand us. You deserve this, Eligos. You bastard.

  Then

  I pull up out of the water and take a deep breath. I'm tired of hearing

  Eligos scream. My hair is wet, and one of my attendants hands me a

  towel to dry it.

  "Do you

  feel better now?" Honorius asks in that fucking elegant aristocratic

  voice he always puts on, "Also tell me if my singing voice has improved.

  I have been working on my Falsetto." I know he's trying to sound more

  sophisticated.

  "Yeah, it

  sounded fine. Shut Eligos up real good. Let's go handle tactical

  planning." My voice is muffled by the towel as I finish wiping my face.

  I

  stand up clad in nothing but my grey jeans and move towards the table

  in the middle of the Chapel. I had it placed there as a matter of

  convenience given how often I go here. Turns out it's better to relieve

  yourself of mental and spiritual burdens right before battle instead of

  letting them accumulate. The table lights up and projects a holograph of

  the tactical situation—a sphere of information on troop accumulation,

  expected enemy numbers, recommended counters and the amount of Shakti we

  possess for rituals.

  The

  hologram displays the forces of the Knights of San Sophia and their

  Oghuz allies. 100 frigates and corvettes of varying types in the 500

  meter to 2 kilometers range in length, designs blocky and hulls dark,

  accompanied by 50 Cruisers in the 3-5 kilometer range and 20 battleships

  in the 10 kilometers range placed within concentric spheres of defense

  around the hulking mass of my command citadel. Total Oghuz clansmen

  across the fleet number 200 million, total Astral Knights 30 million.

  "The

  Rakshasa Horde we will be facing is at magnitude 14 but we will get a

  boost from the Tian'Chao that will propel us into an equal magnitude.

  The thing about fighting Rakshasa is that they grow from Chaos. The more

  disorder and Entropy is in a system, the more of them there will be.

  But they lack discipline, and their individual unit quality is … well,

  decent. Yeah, decent but they grow quickly and escalate from conflict so

  the knights will perform a tactical Exorcism on any major birthing

  spots we find." I point and the map switches through simulations of

  first contact with the horde.

  See,

  I'm not a Theurgist like Honorius who seeks power through knowledge of

  the material and spiritual, but there is a certain resemblance between

  us in our work. The Theurgist treats both scientific process and

  mystical belief as tools, tools that can be studied and mastered

  empirically through experimentation until one learns how to use them.

  War is a bit like that.

  War

  isn't an art. War is a science. It's something that requires intense

  patience, great luck, and frequent experimentation. You form a

  hypothesis regarding tactics, unit composition, Initiative and enemy

  morale and test it, like a physicist smashing Atoms together in a

  particle collider and seeing into their little subatomic guts. Except

  the particles here are human lives.

  A

  tremble runs through my stomach at the thought, the weight of my

  command sinking in. Every one of those 230 million soldiers in my

  command is a person with their own story, with a family and friends who

  love them and will despair when they die, with hopes and dreams they

  hold and will die with some kind of regret at not fulfilling. This

  perspective, the perspective of one who commands millions, makes you see

  them as lines on a grid instead of people with their own hopes and

  ambitions.

  I have already let enough people down. I wouldn't know to feel with myself if I mess this up.

  "We

  have enough Shakti currently for a Magnitude 12 Exorcism," Honorius

  states with a smile on his face. "That should be enough to soften them

  up. Then we bait the commanding Rakshasa into a duel; he has no

  narrative choice but to agree, and we defeat him. My Liber Juratus

  should make sure of that."

  This

  was another part of the Science of War. One that became much more

  important with the spiritual awakening of Mankind. Narrative is a very

  real force that can fuck over the inexperienced, cruel, or unlucky

  commander.

  An outnumbered

  and outgunned force ironically has more odds of victory than the

  overwhelming enemy due to the narrative weight of David against Goliath

  overturning causality. A noble sacrifice will retroactively rewrite

  everything leading up to and after it so that the enemy loses in the

  long run. Two commanders, assigned the role of "Protagonist" and

  "Antagonist" by the great story of the universe, will always find their

  way to inevitable and decisive battle against each other, everyone else

  just side characters in their story.

  A

  greedy smile cracks across my face. This was going to be fun. Yet there

  was one thing nagging at me. "Hey. Do you have, uh, any idea who the

  commanding Rakshasa of this horde is? I don't want any reckless thunder

  runs deep behind their lines to find him."

  "Hah!

  No. Listen, you could probably find whoever the leading Rakshasa is by

  just fighting whoever is largest and has the most gold on them. Or they

  will challenge you first. Don't worry, it will be fine," he states in a

  smooth and lascivious tone, placing a bone white hand with painted pink

  nails on his cheek.

  A vein throbs on my forehead. "Are you fucking stupid! How many other variables are there that I don't know about?"

  The pale-skinned devil laughs and waves his hands in a sarcastic manner.

  "Just

  ask those Tian'Chao nerds to send you some information about it. Those

  control freaks probably have every variable locked down already.

  Besides, it's your first large scale campaign. You're allowed to mess up

  a bit on your maiden conquests."

  This

  asshole. I growl with my face in a scowl. Has his old age made him

  forget the weight of human lives? Life is currency and it must be spent

  well.

  I storm off with my jaw clenched as he chuckles under his breath in delight. Time to meet the Tian'Chao.

  I

  rush to my armoring chamber to don my combat skin. The first step is

  the undersuit, a skin tight bodyglove that feels like silk against my

  skin. It molds itself to my bulky muscles and highlights my large frame.

  Above this layer are the medical injectors and some basic temperature

  regulators. Then it's the hydrostatic gel layer.

  A

  thin semi-liquid gel, acting both as additional temperature regulation,

  as well as impact cushioning, coats my muscles and runs across my body.

  It's warm and ruddy and is quite thermally conductive, allowing it to

  be quickly heated up or cooled down, while also being resistant to

  sustained damage that would render less advanced gels viscous.

  Then

  comes the artificial muscle. Sandwiched between two layers of airtight

  and flexible nano-weave is a piezoelectric layer of liquid metal

  crystals, shaped to mirror the wearer's own musculature. The layer can

  be pressurized which, alongside the stiffening of the artificial

  muscles, will lock the armor. I could survive falling from orbit while

  my armor is locked…probably.

  Next,

  is the first layer of true armor in the suit—another thin layer, this

  time made of a viscous non-newtonian fluid, which acts as a matrix for

  millions of small pieces of hard material, the size of grains of sand.

  These grains help scatter the force and penetration power of impacts,

  allowing the viscous fluid to absorb the hit.

  I

  reach for my helmet on the bench next to me and stare at its front. The

  faceplate is visorless, and instead contains four recording lenses,

  shaped like the ancient earthen symbol for a warrior noble, which

  connects to an internal screen. I brush my hand through the flat

  faceplate and smile before donning it, sealing it airtight to the neck

  of my suit.

  Then there is

  the metal plating. Bone white psycho-reactive metal is fastened to my

  undersuit, etched with nanometer thin runes to confer divine blessings

  and transfer Shakti. One of my knights gifts me the holy banner that the

  Great Emperor entrusted my family with—a red banner upon a holy lance

  burning with golden flames. It would be irresponsible of me to risk the

  holy shroud he had entrusted my ancestors with in battle against vile

  devils such as the Rakshasa, so I take this holy banner instead—the one

  inscribed with the blessing of Saint Denis.

  I

  make my way through the halls to my bridge. The Tian'Chao and their Oni

  allies are here. Their ships are silvery and slick, carved with runes

  and brimming with Shakti, and structured in concentric spheres of

  defense much like our own fleet structure. At the center of the fleet is

  the exemplary Dragon Sage class Leviathan, a moving emblem of

  Tian'Chaoren's sovereignty and a means with which to control large

  sections of space.

  Surrounding

  the behemoth mass of the Dragon Sage is a sphere of ten War-Tortoise

  class Juggernauts entering the triple digit kilometers range with

  kilometers-thick hull. Surrounding them were wolf packs of

  Dreadnoughts, Cruisers, and an all-encompassing swarm of Frigates and

  corvettes meant to serve as cavalry within the Dragon Kingdom's great

  fleet.

  A shark-like grin

  splits my face at the sight, though concealed by my helmet. "Greetings,

  fearsome brothers of the Celestial Realm." My helmet gives my voice a

  deep echoey quality. I had put on this formal and sophisticated tone of

  voice so I wouldn't have to listen to any condescending comments about

  us being backward barbarians. "I wish to speak to the commanding officer

  of this fleet."

  Comms

  array detect interference as the fleet of the Great Dragons announce its

  presence. Then a voice, calming, dignified and melodious, rings out

  across our comms. "Greetings, lost brother. I am minister Zhongli Chun

  of The Celestial Harmony. Join us in quelling the miscreants who spread

  disorder and chaos onto the world."