The tension between the metropolis of Fallowand the republic of Demercius have becomeunfavorable in the grand scheme of Antherapo-sian politics. With Fallow’s sudden turn towardsan isolationist fascism while brooding over main-taining a vicious imperialist campaign, Demercius
is thought to be rst on the country’s list to “per
-suade” over to their side.That couldn’t be farther from the truth.
Fallow’s rst move was sending delegates to the
Demercian capital of Staffhaven and demandingthat the Demercian Council surrender itself tothe Fallonian Empire’s will. As Demercians, we
refused and kicked their sorry asses out. That’swhen, I suppose, our unit was sent off to “scout”for any signs of Fallonian invasion.“Afrmative,” Sora said, lowering the scope of her rie. “A unit of outtted Fallonians en routetowards the border.” They were marching througha strait of dry land inside the swamps that domi
-nated the northern side of the Demercian Gulf.
The dragonborn nodded towards her haling
“I’ll get right on it,” the trapsmith responded, heft
-ing up a bag and ducking through some bushes,
running down the hill they were stationed on. TheSpellguards stood anxiously behind the dragon
-born sniper, awaiting her orders. Sora noted their nervousness.
“Here’s the plan,” she started, turning around andgripping the barrel of her rie. “We’ll have Grom,
our demolitions expert, rout the unit towards the
valley at the bottom of this hill.” She lifted her hand and pointed vaguely west. “When they fallprey to the trapsmith’s devices, you will rush inand take them by surprise.” A few of soldiers nod
-ded, but the rest looked from one to the other.The dragonborn smiled at their bewildement.
These soldiers were taught by the Council to useand employ honorable combat and dedication
to the arcane arts, whereas Sora was taught to
strike rst, fast and hard; in her school of com
-bat, the means
justify the ends. If it weren’t for
the little unit of guerrillas that the original Council
created, the Royal Magocracy would be still rulingtoday.
Sora didn’t need her scope to see what was go-ing on now. Explosions enveloped a small area of
the swamp, rising above the canopy of trees. The
swordmages now placed their hands of the hiltsof their swords in preparation. The dragonbornlifted her hand.
“A few more minutes, please.” The unit relaxed.Sora lifted her rie and peered through the tree
tops below, trying to see where those Fallonian
dogs were going. She spotted most of themrunning down the strait and a few running off intothe swamps. She could see more explosions on
either side of the strait. Grom was trying to keep
them on course. She skipped ahead and saw
the haling ducked behind a tree, trying to keep
“Ready...” she said, lifting a hand to signal the
Spellguards. The Fallonians were continuing
down the strait. “They’re entering the valley...hold steady, on my gunshot...”
An orchestra of mechanics and painful cries met
them in the valley as they triggered every trap inthe book. Screams of pain and surprise lled the
swamplands. Sora focused on one Fallonian in
the middle of the carnage, completely untouched,yet trying to rally the troops. She bit off a bulletand saw his arms fall to his side. He stumbled
around for a moment, grasping his head. That’sone less Fallonian at least.
Sora lowered her rie, retracting her vision backto normal. Her tabard swayed lightly in the windas the Spellguards charged down the hill to nish
the small unit off.
Her father would’ve been proud.