Azure Flame

by Silver Page

The Art of War

Author's Note:

Special Labor Day update for everyone!
Still going to have a chapter up on the 15th, though.

“Heh, just as expected,” Vandal said, uncoiling himself from the meditation pose he’d been in moments before awakening. The crippled Dragon stretched, and stepped carefully over the meticulously drawn pentagram made of multi-colored sand and salt he’d been channeling in. Without his true form, his magical powers and abilities was severely limited. Vandal was forced to rely on charms, artifacts, and ritual-designs to perform spells that, were he still whole, would have been a cinch.
The white Dragon headed over to the door of his room, barred tight to prevent unwanted intrusions while he performed his spells. He undid the latch and swung the heavy stone doors open without any apparent difficulty. His guards, a Minotaur and Donkey today, saluted as he appeared.

“Summon the Council, and have them meet me in the throne room. Except for Councilor Shatter Horn. Inform him that he needs to be ready for a demonstration,” Vandel ordered, and with a nod the Donkey hurried down the hallway. After a moment of waiting to give the messenger time to deliver his commands, Vandal began to head out towards the throne room, nodding to the servants and helpers working here and there and make bits of small talk. Once he reached the large, wide open assembly hall, he smiled at the figure of three beings waiting for him.

“Greetings, my Councilors. I hope I have not kept you waiting?”

“No, Vandal, we just arrived,” Shadow Law said, his two companions, a Griffon and a Diamond Dog, nodding in agreement.

“Where is Shatter Horn?” Vesper Storm inquired. She was a muscled Griffon, in her middle ages with spots of grey on her golden lion hindquarters. Her sharp, grey eyes looked behind his leader, curious if the Minotaur delegate had been delayed.

“He is not here. I wanted him to give a demonstration of some new weapons he’s been developing, so he’ll meet us at the workshop.”

“Alright then,” the Griffon conceded. Vandal clapped his hands together.

“Excellent. Come with me, I have something I need to show you.” Vandal led the group over through a side door in the throne room, taking them deeper in the palace. Here and there spots of crumbling stone and flaking mortar gave testament to the sheer age of the ancient Mole building, but most of it was in surprisingly decent condition.

“I want you to know, that the nations at the World Moot are gathering their forces to attack us,” Vandal said, breaking the silence and monotony of the walk.

“What!?” Shadow Law exclaimed, staring at the back of his leader’s head in shock. Vesper and the Diamond Dog delegate were too stunned to even speak.

“To be more accurate, they are going to be preparing to conduct a global purge for our hidden agents. They are still under the assumption that we are a mere rabble at worst, a cult of malcontents at best; organized but hardly an army.” The Dragon smirked. “Foolishly, they will expend resources on trying to chase down lone agents and sympathizers, while we consolidate our own forces into our bases, preparing to strike out at the nobles.”

“But Vandal, how can we hope to oppose every nation in the world? How can we, a few thousand, stand up to millions in open combat?” Shadow Law trotted up next to the white dragon, a concerned look on his face. Behind him, Vesper nodded silently in agreement with the young Alicorn. Further back, the head of the Diamond Dogs, Alpha Gowar, nervously looked around the path they were taking. All Diamond Dogs were nervous inside the palace of the Mole King, ancient, ancestral fears surfacing in the presence of their enemy and victim’s engineering. It was an old fear, but one that lingered like a curse upon the Diamond Dogs, perhaps as penance for the sins of their ancestors.

Vandal said nothing, and continued walking down the stone halls, the way lit by glowing chunks of crystal embedded in the walls.

“We have gold, of course, but hiring mercenaries is something I do not think highly of. They have no ties to our ways, no belief in our mission. We have no way to insure their loyalties. It is a last resort, in my opinion.” Law continued, still talking, mostly to hear something. He did not want to admit it, and he could tell Vesper did not either, but there was a feeling of dread in the still air as they walked deeper into the palace’s depths. It unsettled him.

The group neared a large set of double doors at the end of the hallway, the exterior blank save for a few symbols and images of chains carved into the surface. In front of the doors, Shatter Horn, the leader of the Minotaur contingent, waited, a smug smile on his face, which grew as he saw Vandal and the rest approach.

“About time you got here, I was getting tired of standing,” Shatter joked, giving Vandal a brief nod of his head.

“I’m sure your hooficure can wait until afterwards, Shatter,” Vandal replied, joining in the good natured teasing. Law frowned, not at the banter, but at their destination.

“Where are we?” Vesper asked, moments before Law could.

“This is the old dungeons of the Mole king, where prisoners were sent to work endless shifts in the old mines. Now, we have repurposed them. They serve a new design,” Vandal said, and with that, pushed the doors open. There was not a sound as they opened, revealing nothing save flickering lights and a wide platform. He stepped through, followed by a still smirking Shatter Horn, and more reluctantly, Shadow Law, Vesper, and Gowar. Stepping out onto the overlook, their jaws dropped in amazement.

Below them was a vast, open set of galleries, pits, and flat fields. The pits glowed cherry red from the fires of countless furnaces and forges, and the ringing sound of metal being pounded and tempered echoed throughout. In the fields and galleries was the real show, however.

Hundreds upon thousands of massive metal constructs stood, shaped into various creatures. Large, obese spiders stood in eerie silence, green and red tinted glass eyes staring off into nothing. Their legs were sharp and edged like a sword, and thick plates covered their forms. Some had bulbous abdomens, which were hollow and covered in a thick mesh substance, creating portable cages. Other abdomens were enormous spools of industrial wire and cable, ready to be used to create giant, metal webs. The spiders were painted black and dark red in color, sinister hues that struck fear into the onlooker’s hearts and sapped their morale simply by staring at them.

Next to them, mechanical scorpions stood, the tails ending in large jet pump spray hoses, with tanks of viscous poisons and searing acids hooked up to the spray-stingers. Their glass lenses were a dark purple and their pincers were like massive scissors, designed to cut through flesh and stone with equal ease. Some of the pincers were designed as crushing claws, to pulverize and pound anything in their grasp. Their carapaces were a mix of dark purples and light reds, the metal carefully painted to seem natural. A menacing aura surrounded them, and shivers were suppressed as they were looked over.

Further along, towering clockwork gargoyles and dragonflies stood. The gargoyles had wings of razor edged metal, and Aero-engines, like those on an airship, were incorporated into their chests to allow them to fly. In their hands they clutched halberds and tridents, wicked and sharp looking, and with thunder-yellow glass orbs for eyes. Their metal was a grim, grey color, dour and with the yellow glowing eyes, seemed far more menacing then they should have.

The dragonflies were sleek and trim, the wings thinner than the gargoyle’s yet no less sharp. Aero-engines were built into them as well, and their legs clutched massive bombs to their underside, ready to act as bombers over any target. Large, emerald green lenses were their eyes, and they were a mix of cloud white and sky blue, to blend in with the heavens they would fly through.

In the back of the cavern, obscured by shadows and smoke, enormous train sized centipedes were being constructed, the hulls dotted with cannons and blades, and heavy treads replaced the tracks. Even unfinished, they were a sight to behold.

Flittering around the air were dozens, if not hundreds, of small golden scarab beetle shaped objects, no bigger than a Minotaur’s fist, and carrying out small, precision repairs and adjustments on the countless clockwork and steel golems. Working alongside them were dozens of Minotaurs, carrying ore and ingots of metal, working the flames in the furnaces and forges, pounding the metal into shape, or actually building the intimidating creations.

“Amazing sight, is it not?” Vandal asked, glancing over at his comrades, who stared into the sea of metal and swirling activity with stunned expressions. Only Shatter Horn was unfazed, though he was holding back some chuckles from the reactions of his fellow rebels.

“How… how long…” Law tried to speak, but could not finish.

“Ever since I formed Dark Phoenix, I knew I would eventually need an army. Thus, I have had my Minotaur allies and friends build these masterful creations for me. These designs are those of an ancient, extinct race that I rediscovered in the archives of the fallen Dragon Empire, and generations of Forge-Masters and Rune-Smiths have worked on, and improved, the designs, to allow us to take the fight to the rotten world.” Vandal turned to his friends, and opened his arms wide, taking in the whole of the operation.

“You asked me, Law, how I would deal with the armies of the Aristocracy. Here is my answer.” Law trotted over to edge of the platform, mouth still open, and leaned on the railing as he tried to take it all in.

“What is next?” Vesper managed to breathe out, still as stunned. At that, Vandal laughed.

“My friends, what comes next is the fun part. War. And then, we will need to establish a new order for the world.” The cursed Dragon looked out over the field of metal, steam, and gears, and a hungry look entered his good eye.

“It won't be easy, but I have faith in you, in my people, and in our righteous cause. It will be hard, I won't lie. But in the end, it will be worth all the effort. Building an army is easy. Building a God is not.” With those ominous words left lingering in the air, Vandal turned and walked out, back up the path to the central part of the palace, leaving behind awed and determined beings.

Comments

[josue]

Well fuck