Steel and Mana

Three weeks had passed since Pion's forces had discovered the massive beast that they simply began calling 'Guardian' whenever it was brought up. They stayed there, studied it for days, but made sure the mechs were kept far away... If this thing wakes up, sensing their cores and tries to get them, there would be nothing they could do to stop it.

As for its daily routine... it was nonexistent. It just lay there, sleeping, or more precisely, consuming the captured cores as it was visible drawing them closer and closer, connected to its body via the 'spiderwebs,' while also slurping up blood and essence from the corpses through its legs. By Pion's estimation, those webs were not only connected to its body, but they were going into its flesh, maybe even deeper. It was hard to tell from their vantage point.

After surveying its nest for about a week, he finally decided that they had seen everything and headed back to the ships... And waiting there... There was nothing else to do, just to survive, because their mission was now completed.

Every morning, he stood on the deck of the Dawn, staring upriver toward the northern path, and every morning, the trees swayed... But it was nothing more than the wind. He knew that, but he couldn't help but imagine the massive monster emerging, here to eat them all up... But it was only in his dreams, and it never became a reality. He had to note down that there was no pack of twisted beasts in the forest and no winged horrors flying over it... which was good. But... It also meant that there was nothing that lived here besides the Guardian.

Everything avoided this place.

It also meant he had to study how big this exclusion zone was. In pairs, he sent out soldiers, and every time he did, the scouts returned with the same conclusion: the monsters were gone from a fifty-kilometer radius, at the minimum, and those that were active skirted around the zone like deer circling a wildfire.

East, south, west, wherever they moved, signs pointed to the same pattern. Every visible track curved away from the Third Pass. No matter the signs, tracks left by small beasts or big ones, trees torn out with their roots visible... they all refused to step into the Guardian's territory; instead, they were going around it, taking a massive detour.

Which was both good and bad at the same time. On the one hand, this meant that the Guardian was blocking the Pass and killing everything that came through in the winter. Maybe letting a few of them slip by when its net was full... But it was also as bad as it could get. How strong had it become since then? He didn't want to think about it.

Every night, Pion lay awake in his cabin, the silence of the land only broken by the noise of the rushing water. What he was finding hard to maintain was... morale. Not his nor the Avalonian troops, but the crew of the sailboats and non-Avalonian people. They were starting to get twitchy, and they were suggesting more and more that they should leave and head back to sea. Which, of course, was always going to be a no. But if they started pushing, he was afraid he would have to put them all down, and if that aroused the Guardian beast, they would be in big trouble. Maybe he should let the sailships go and let them be consumed by the beasts... but probably the captains of the Dawn and Authority would not allow them to leave without escorting them back home.

"Another week of this," Polo muttered one evening, climbing down from his mech cockpit, speaking into his personal communicator, "and half the Tentians and Sar people will go mad."

"They're already halfway there," Nathel replied, his voice coming through the comm in Pion's hand, who was out on the deck of the Dawn, "But I am keeping an eye on them; if they try to slink away in the dark, I will open fire on the ship and sink it."

Pion overheard their statement, but he didn't correct them... It was what he would also do. He knew Avalonian discipline could hold for all eternity, not questioning their mission at all. When they were selected for this task, it was something they were familiar with. They were told that this may be nothing but a one-way ticket to hell. While they accepted it, the others probably didn't believe it that much... Drunk on the power of their two new ships... Now? Yeah, they were coming face-to-face with the realization, so they needed a sign. They needed to know they weren't forgotten out here, dangling on the edge of the world, trapped in their own net.

And it came after a month had passed since they arrived.

"Commodore," Nathel stiffened in his seat, eyes narrowing as his Seeker's array pulsed, picking up a new signal, weak, but new, "We have contact," he whispered into the radio, barely daring to breathe, as he tried locating it again, "Magical signature… faint… due... west."

"West?" Pion was on the foredeck in seconds, "Report."

"There was a brief ping, a spike, then it was gone. It was not natural... It was either a monster doing some kind of long-range survey... or..."

"Can you triangulate?" Polo asked, "My Rook didn't pick up on it."

"I almost missed it, too, because it was too weak. Could be a hundred kilometers, maybe more, but I won't be able to triangulate it, not from this much of a distance."

"..." Pion's jaw tensed, thinking of the possibilities... He wanted to believe it, desperately, that it was the sign of the main army... But, it could be just a beast, taking its detour, checking its position before heading towards the western lands. "Keep scanning." He ordered, "Double the patrols westward, too. Whatever it was, we'll see it again."

He was right. Over the following seven days, there was a persistent ping, gradually becoming stronger than before. It was coming from the west, and it was a clear indication that it was intentional... As far as they were concerned, it was their Sovereign. Nobody else would keep marching towards the east.

Stolen story; please report.

Then, on the eighth day, a familiar sound had finally reached them.

It started as a low, distant hum, like a swarm of hornets magnified a thousandfold. There was no need for a report or for guessing what it was. For the Avalonians, it was as clear as hearing distant thunder:

Airplanes. It was the sound of Avalon.

"Scouts!" Nathel reported, his voice audibly excited and thrilled, already turning his Seeker's sensors skyward, trying to send up a signal flare, "Multiple contacts inbound!"

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Lieutenant Rass was bone-tired, for he had been fighting the winds for three hours now, and his observer wasn't faring any much better. They had been flying sweeps for a week now, charting rivers and forests east of Horringar, always ahead of the main, advancing army, searching for any sign of the expeditionary force of Commodore Pion. But, soon... it was time to turn around and head back as half of the fuel was already gone.

"Another bloody chunk of forest," his observer groaned, sketching quick lines on his pad as the biplane banked low over the trees, "If I have to draw one more reed bed or... wait! There! Smoke!"

At the call, Rass squinted, adjusting his goggles as he searched for it. Sure enough, a thin column rose straight from the river mouth ahead. Not the wild smoke of burning forest, as this was... green-colored. And he had yet to see green-colored fire.

"Signal flare!" He yelled, suddenly feeling his heart beat in his throat.

He gunned the engine, climbing higher at once, causing the river to widen below, gleaming in the intense, mid-day sun. And there it was... anchored in the bend of the river... ships. There were a dozen of them, sails furled, sandwiched between the two low steel hulls of the vessels he had only heard about until now. The Avalonian-designed ships... How beautiful they were, and it was so thrilling to find them... Finally!

"Sovereign bless them," the observer laughed, "that's them! We found them!"

Rass banked hard again, bringing the plane to fly over the ships, showing them he had seen and recorded them. At that, the two mechs below raised their arms in salute before waving at the plane, continuing to fly a few circles around their spot.

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On the Dawn's deck, the sailors cheered, waving anything they could and had, be it caps, jackets, or even brooms, shouting at the circling aircraft.

"Finally..." Pion allowed himself a rare smile. "Time to return to civilization," he murmured, "I can't wait to have a proper bath." With that, he keyed his radio, voice once again sounding steady, but everyone could hear the relief in it, "Avalonian scouts, this is Commodore Pion of the forward expedition. Confirm contact. We are alive. Repeat: we are alive, holding the river. Awaiting orders."

"...zzz..." At first, there was static, then the crackling reply finally came through, "Commodore, this is Pigeon Four from the Scouting Wing. Message received. The Sovereign will be informed immediately! Hold your ground until a recovery team is sent to link up with you."

"Pigeon Four," Pion continued, becoming sober, pushing down his excitement. "It is critical to relay the news to the Sovereign. Stop the army's march, at least fifty to sixty kilometers from our current location. Maybe even more. We discovered the Third Pass, but it is not safe. I repeat! It is not safe to approach! There is a Guardian beast there... We can't approach it without the Sovereign seeing our reports and making a decision."

"Roger, Commodore," the voice answered, suddenly just as serious as he was, "We will return to base and relay it all. Stay put... We will return for you soon."

"Understood. Holding position until then."

"Don't worry," Rass's voice added, and Pion could see him smile, "Soon you will be all back to where you belong. Long live the Sovereign!"

"Long live Avalon!"

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I was inside the Camelot's war room, bent over the campaign table, reviewing the march we completed since leaving Horringar. I was redrawing the arrows that marked the secondary army's supply chains, placing pins that represented the skirmishes we had already fought. In the margins, Oleg had begun tallying casualties from those fights. A peculiar pattern was emerging as the northern edge of the land, towards the mountains, was particularly empty... It has been the case for the past two weeks since we left Horringar.

But the South? That was populated, and every monster was coming up on us from either the South or the South-East. I knew there was something... the reason why Horringar could still stand. It was immediately apparent from just looking at the map... It was like an anti-monster black hole or something put nearby... But my theories were cut short when the door burst open. He looked both hurried and energized, so something had to happen... It couldn't be an ambush or monster attack on our flanks, because those weren't worthy of this type of reaction... Except...

"Sovereign." He didn't even salute, which was telling enough, making me straighten up and watch him. "We have word."

"From where?" I asked, trying to read his eyes.

"Here," Oleg laid the parchment he was holding on the table, pinning it with one gloved hand. "The Scouting Wing we had sent forth! Two of our pigeons swept northeast of Horringar as usual when number four found Commodore Pion's expedition!"

Yes... Finally! I was hoping this news was going to come soon, now that we were already pressing into the old Airosia kingdom. Then, a new question escaped my throat.

"Alive?"

"Alive and well," Oleg confirmed, his eyes bright as torches, "They are anchored at a bend of a river, with both destroyers intact." He put a new pin in the map. They were still far away from us... But not that far. "They've scouted the Third Pass itself. But…" He hesitated for a moment, "He reports it's not safe to approach. A so-called Guardian beast is holding the mouth of the Pass. He says even the monsters avoid it..."

"That makes sense..." I nodded, looking at the pattern I was wrestling with. Yes... We have observed throughout the decades, and especially now, how the bastards avoid the radiating power of a core when it is overwhelmingly pressed upon them... Thankfully, we have the new camouflage at hand... Heh! "Do we have a description?" I looked back at him.

"We do," Oleg read the words as they were recorded, "Size unknown, but above 100 or 120 meters. Serpentine lower body, spider-like legs protruding at mid-torso, capable of piercing monster-armor. Wings are present on the back, but flying capabilities are unconfirmed. Currently in suspended animation, draining the cores of a multitude of captured, massive beasts. Territory of the Guardian has been scouted and is clear of monsters within a fifty-kilometer radius."

"Makes even more sense..." I whispered, looking at where Pion was on the map and then adding the measurements he had relayed, drawing a circle around the supposed position of the Third Pass. "That's why the beasts come from the south, they are avoiding its lair..."

"Orders, My Sovereign?"

"Relay this to all commands: halt the march sixty kilometers short of the Pass." I decided, "Even with our new camouflage, let's take this... slowly. No one advances without my word! Begin preparing siege protocols, heavy artillery, and shield formations. And double the Scouting Wing's runs in the northeast... I want Pion's position marked down to the last tree and to send an engineering team forward to establish communication with him. I have a lot of questions..."

"Yes, My Sovereign," Oleg inclined his head. "At once."

"Also..." I looked at him, "For now, keep this between us. I will tell the others the moment we have more from Pion."