I will never forget that instant when Sanctus Dominus gated into Empyrea to reinforce us. It was perfectly timed, if not by him, then it must be fate itself. When he burst from his gate, he was accompanied by a flash from the power of sunlight that dispelled the unnatural haze the planar shadows brought with them. The battle's outlook brightened, both literally and figuratively.
Let me start on the matter by saying that I had always believed that it was Sanctus Dominus who was meant for the Throne, not Turbo Pinnae. You might think that I am merely relying on hindsight to make such a claim. I know the truth of it. Dominus is a warrior without equal, skilled in both fighting, and leading allies, gifted with both a tactical, analytical mind, and sharp, unwavering instincts. I have faced him twice in combat, and know this from personal experience. Lexarius, and even Magnus Chartophylax, will readily tell you of my defeats, as if I'm supposed to be humiliated by losing to one so strong. Go on, ask any of the thousands that he has cut down. None of them regret it. I discovered both my limits and his potential through those fights, and so I understood right away that if there was going to be a King between him and Pinnae, it would be him.
We had destroyed eight waves of planar shadows before help arrived. The alicorns under my command proved valorous and skilled, but we were finite, and subject to fatigue. Each time the Agamanthion spewed out its minions, thousands surged towards Throne's Rest. None of them so much as touched the threshold so long as my troops and I stood.
I remember their names; Aes Cor, Cantus Lamina, Tempus Plaga...I also remember their desperate grimaces, their last attempts to stay undiminished lest the defense falter. Many say I am too hard on Pinnae and the Seekers. I remember these fine alicorn warriors diminishing before making it past their first cycle, and I know I am not. In truth I have been too soft. That a warrior perish for a scholar's incompetence is inexcusable. That the same scholars are granted more opportunities to show that incompetence is an invitation for disaster.
Dominus and the alicorns from the Midnight Grove emerged from their gates in time for another wave of planar shadows. They appeared from behind as well, turning what I had expected to be a difficult fight into an easy sweep. You would have had to be there to fully experience that moment, colt. Upon his arrival, an unusual gust of wind blew all around us while my troops cheered. It felt as if Empyrea itself breathed a sigh of relief. When Dominus landed among us, he was briefly surrounded by a nimbus of light, not quite his usual aura of sunlight. It only lasted for a moment.
I did not pay too much attention to it back then, but, as I look back to it now, I realize that it must be the light of the Throne itself. As early as that moment, his kingship was acknowledged.
We had precious little time to keep cheering the timely arrival. The Agamanthion was relentless in spewing its shadows. In order to keep them away from the Throne, I had concentrated my forces around it, and that left the rest of Empyrea to fend for themselves.
You may think this cruel and narrow-minded, Procul Ocularus certainly does. That's because he spent the Void Rift Crisis fleeing from one district to another, praying that I could be bothered to spare troops to protect him. A pity that he survived. Far more deserving alicorns should have taken his spot.
With Dominus at our head, an assault on the spire came within reach--
What? Watch your mouth, colt. Did you come to me for an account of the Void Rift Crisis, or to monger rumors, and make up conflicts? I gave up command upon Dominus' arrival immediately, and with ease. It wasn't a problem. In the Council of Elders, they indeed bicker and stall because they insist on being treated equally, to be afforded all these courtesies, and to have their opinions considered even if they know nothing. For seasoned warriors like me and Dominus, the greatest takes the lead while the lesser take up position. Our roles were clear the instant we saw each other.
Now, if you're done with your insinuations...
The assault on the Agamanthion's extension was a veritable routine maneuver compared to our earlier ordeal against its waves of planar shadows. The spire in the Midnight Grove fell through the combined might of Dominus and Gratia, with only a small number of young alicorn warriors to aid them. In Empyrea, they had the help of some of the most powerful warriors in the Herd. The planar shadows did not stand a chance.
To this moment, the remnants of the Agamanthion extension still remains in here in Empyrea. The Seekers guard it fiercely, aware that I would like nothing more than to eradicate it for good, except perhaps their disbanding. They act as if it had always been harmless. Let me describe to you what it was like during the battle so you may have a clearer picture.
If the Agamanthion was indeed created by the Sixth Ascendant, then the Necromancer Queen must have had a penchant for the ugly and the over-complicated. It's impossible to confuse the spire for one of our magnificent city structures. It was a dark and jagged thing, all harsh angles in comparison to the gently curving and sloping towers around it. Empyrea's buildings are always enchanted, but our builders always weave them subtly through the architecture. The spire had necromantic symbols carved deep into the metal and stone, obscene with its display of magic. Its outer shell had uneven openings that exposed, glowing wires, and spinning gears inside. It was like watching an alicorn walking around with his guts hanging out.
I was only too glad when Dominus sliced the thing apart. Empyrea, indeed the Herd, earned a measure of respite from a single strike, certainly more so than a thousand policy-deciding councils.