Many strategists and military intellectuals like to proclaim gates as hard points of significant difficulty. I disagree. I think gates are logistical and structural vulnerabilities.
Most of them, anyway.
Most military people like to think of a situation as a clash of forces, flinging Pathbearers against heavily armed defenses and adversaries. Of course, you will lose many Pathbearers this way. Of course, the losses will be severe. That’s why you don’t fight this way.
You know the gate has a major direct force advantage. You know its mana core could fuel the defenders and make sure that it is empowering them at every second, constantly replenishing them, offering them new facilities, new powers that they can direct against you.
It is the same way as trying to bring down a monster, even as a Master. A Master-Tier individual does not have the same skills as a Master-Tier monster. Without any equipment, a proper strategy, or a specialized skill, you’re going to get torn apart. It’s evolved to be brutal. It’s evolved to be strong, to be overwhelming. That is the nature of a monster. It cannot think originally, it cannot conceive, it cannot plan, it cannot be creative, and it lacks tools.
We are people. We are a thinking people, and I would demand that we do some thinking when fighting something that is clearly, clearly not meant to be taken by force.
You don’t take a gate from the outside, you do it from within. You optimally get the gate sealed from the outside. You choke them. You choke them of whatever supplies they need.
Pathbearers don’t need to feed very much. They don’t need sleep very much after a certain point. But still, eventually, they will starve. They will run out of air. They will need water. They will need rest.
And this can be exacerbated. You can remove all the supplies going into the gate. You can destroy their stores while inside. You can spread plagues while inside. You can create disorder and fracture the internal government while inside.
A gate is a fragile thing. It’s fragile because it's governed by and houses people. It’s fragile because it requires so much to sustain and function. It’s not a world of its own. It’s only a pale shadow of one. A connector. A bridge.
It can someday become a full thing. But until then, a gate needs traffic to flow through it. Because a clogged artery will eventually and inevitably burst.
And when it does, you get to keep the mana core intact and take the gate for your own. Ha, you won’t even need to waste an army to take it…
-Lady Eileen Harkness, Owl of Aviary
67 (I)
More
Shiv stared out at the horizon and let out a deep breath. “Well. We beat twelve, so we just need to do this around ten more times.”
The Weaveresses were throwing their invisibility cloaks over themselves and taking defensive positions. Adam was glaring hard at something unseen, his expression tense and curses spilling out under his breath.
Uva pulled her mana strands back for a moment. She stared at Shiv and pressed her lips together. “I… think you are a bit too optimistic sometimes, my dear brute.”
Shiv laughed. “Heh. Helps when you can’t die.”
“Well, I suppose I’ll get to sample more sleeves.”
“Dear Sister, you might scare Adam if you keep talking that way.”
“Yes, but it might attract someone else I have in mind.”
And it worked. Shiv barely suppressed a shiver.
“Please—we’re potentially about to fight a hundred more Dragon-Knights and likely get horribly butchered… Can you two please not do this right now?” Adam cried, his eyes burning as he nocked a Veilpiercer arrow. Then he paused. The Young Lord lowered his bow and frowned. “They’re slowing down…”
“They’re probably not reinforcements, then,” Uva said with a breath. Her strands brushed something, and one recoiled violently. “The Composer said it was a rogue Lance with no support. This might be—”
“HEAR ME!”
An impossibly loud bellow tore through the air. The world shook. Adam clenched his ears, and Uva stumbled back.
And Shiv—Shiv knew that voice.
“Oh, good,” Shiv said. “I was wondering when I'd run into him again.”
“Hear me now! It is I, Sir Marikos! The Fortress that Soars, Sir-Legend Marikos Valdemar of the Descenders Union! Traitors, scum, and scoundrels—beware! Oathbreakers, fall upon thy swords! I have come to redeem my honor, and I will use your blood to rewrite my shame!”
Shiv didn’t fully appreciate just how imposing Sir Marikos was the first time he met him. He looked much as before—larger still than the titanic Dragon-Knight that had pummeled Shiv into the ground, and even taller than the Jealousy’s two-hundred-meter armspan. His entire body was encased in thick, gray armor that looked as if cut from stone, leaving only his face exposed within a horned helmet. His angular maw was filled with dagger-like teeth, each longer than Shiv was tall. Amidst the red-and-black-patterned scales covering his flesh, two slit-pupiled eyes gleamed a burning orange.
His wings, colored like his scales and stretching nearly half a kilometer across, blotted out the sky as he approached, and a great axe made of bone lay in his open hand—bound by a Binding Enchantment rather than grasped by his gauntleted claws.
Behind him, a swarm of smaller Dragon-Knights followed in formation.
Then Sir Marikos flicked his hand, and a ball of liquid fire appeared—brighter than any other flame, scorching the land as if through its radiance alone.
Both Adam and Uva flinched back with shared hisses. Uva promptly unraveled herself into formless threads of mana before casting all of her mana into Shiv’s mind, weaving herself in. Adam simply turned away, using his Legendary armor as a shield.
Inside Shiv’s mind, Uva let out a low groan of frustration. “I did not appreciate that at all,” she growled.
He enjoyed her presence there, but he also grew aware of how closely their consciousnesses were tied together, and how easy it would be for her to seize control. The feeling was dangerous. And Shiv found it—
“I am STILL here!” Adam shouted. “But more importantly, Shiv, please tell me this dragon won't just burn us all to cinders in a few moments.”
“Sir Marikos isn’t exactly the thinking and considerate kind of dragon,” Shiv replied. “He kind of did blow up a mountain and got me pulverized in the process.”
Uva paused, a funny feeling rippling through her. “Shiv, did you just call someone else ‘not thinking and considerate’?”
“Why?” Shiv asked.
The other dragons hovered in the air, their army composed of twelve dragon Lances. Sir Marikos, once at their forefront, descended hard and fast with his colossal bulk. As his digitigrade legs struck the ground, the world shook—not a small tremor, but a massive quake. Several invisible Weaveresses were launched off their feet. Valor held his ground with his Necromancy, the earth shattering against him as a tide of stone clashed with his corrosion and turned to dust.
Shiv stepped in front of Adam and shoulder-charged through one of the earthen tides. He blasted through without difficulty, and Adam smacked him on the back with a brief mutter of thanks.
Sir Marikos slid through the earth for a few moments before coming to a stop just before them, his armor aglow with the magical fire hovering above his palm, his eyes smouldering, his features a vicious scowl. He looked at the dragon Dynamancer. “Traitor!” he roared. The Dynamancer flinched and cowered, unable to meet Sir Marikos’s gaze. In the corner of his eyes, Shiv saw Liquid Serpent loudly proclaiming how she was still standing to a fidgeting Spark Ripper who was helping her pull her invisible cloak back on. “I have come to… to… Ha?”
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Marikos’s gaze turned away from the Dynamancer and settled on another person in particular: Valor Thann.
“You…” Marikos breathed. His body began to shake. His draconic features contorted with pure fury.
The expression of the translucent apparition outlining Valor's features twisted into a grimace. “Oh, damnation.”
“YOU!” Marikos raised his sphere of magic, preparing to slam it down on Valor—and everyone around him in the process.
Shiv tore off his helmet. “Marikos, stop! Don’t burn us!” he cried. “You already did it to me once. Don’t do it again.”
Marikos froze, staring at Shiv. His eyes widened in recognition. “You! You were the one who listened! You were the one near the passage at the—at the passage to Weave!” He turned away from Valor, dismissing his sphere of mana with a gesture. “My friend, my attentive, caring friend, how strange it is to see you here! I thought you would have tried to find your way back to the surface by now.”
“Yeah, kind of in the process of that,” Shiv said, cocking his head toward the beaten Dynamancer. “We had to intercept some of your traitors. There’s a gate we needed to access to get home, and they were going to make the crossing hard. They also had something else we needed—Valor’s arm.”
Sir Marikos grunted in acknowledgement and waved a hand. Three dragons descended, slamming around the Dynamancer and securing him with adamantine chains in moments. “Once more, you have my great and glorious gratitude. Your noble heart shines again, my little friend.” Marikos’s eyes flashed as he Analyzed Shiv. “My impressive little friend. You have Adamanatine Adaption… A supremely rare skill, for a human. You must be very hardy. You have grown substantially since our fortuitous first meeting.”
“Yeah…” Shiv smiled slightly. “Life came at me hard. I went back at it harder.”
Marikos laughed. “You must be System-favored.” He laid his axe on his back and crossed his arms. “Might you, perchance, be interested in a friendly duel when things are settled?”
Suddenly, Valor’s voice cut through the air like a whip-crack. “Marikos. Please…”
Marikos’s demeanor broke as he turned back to Valor. “You! How dare you speak to me after—”
“Marikos, it is urgent. We are trying to stop Sullain.”
Marikos paused. “Sullain?” His voice dropped to a growl. “Yes, that vermin. I told you, Valor—I told you we should have finished him. I told you to let me do the job. He was a broken dog after the loss of his city, a broken man. And now he is a broken, vengeful thing, dragging us into another war we cannot afford.”
“And you were right,” Valor said, sounding incredibly frustrated at the admission. “But that is the past; now we have to deal with the present.”
“We wouldn’t have to deal with the present if you’d heard my wisdom,” Marikos hissed.
“Your blood-thirst, you mean,” Valor snapped. “Your solution to everything is ‘kill him, behead her.’”
“And it would have worked!” Marikos bellowed, almost blowing Adam off his feet with the resulting shockwave.
“You always say that,” Valor scoffed.
Marikos sneered at Valor's words. The expression was a bit harder to make out on a dragon's face, but it was definitely there. “If you kill those wrong and evil, they will disappear, and the world will be a better place for it.” His voice held the certitude of someone who never slowed to think about their words.
Shiv watched, uncomfortable. “Is this what I’m like sometimes?”
“You’re not that bad,” Uva said.
Adam leaned in close. “If you ever become like this, I vow to try my best to kill you for good.”
“Regardless,” Valor brushed him off, “I pledge myself to another now. I work for the Composer, at least until I am reunited and restored.”
“The Composer,” Sir Marikos said, head held high. He slammed a fist into his chestplate. “Yes: one of the few noble demigods among the Faiths. The Elector-Lords will recognize her merit and honor in sending you”—he gestured to the Weaveresses—“brave Weaveresses, hidden daggers of justice, to apprehend this vile traitor. You and…” Marikos squinted. “Ah? Shiv, my friend, you have someone hiding in your head. And behind your back.”
“They’re with me,” Shiv said. “They’re… friends. And more.”
“Good,” Marikos said. He drew in a long breath. “Reliable friends are hard to find.” He then sneered at Valor. “And you should guard yourself against those who plan deceit when you have only offered them honor and kindness."
Marikos glared at the Dynamancer thereafter. “You are unworthy of the title of Dragon-Knight. Unworthy of Dragon Matrimony. You have shamed us. You have betrayed us. Where is the Aviary scum you spirited away?”
Sir Marikos stomped over, the ground cracking beneath him with every step. Shiv blinked at how much larger Marikos was compared to the other dragon. It flinched away.
“They’re dead. We killed them. We killed them when they realized they were all…” The dragon cried out as Marikos grabbed him by the head and lifted him like a sack of grain.
Flame surged around Marikos’s hand and, to Shiv’s astonishment, the dragon combusted—scales melting, flesh bubbling. Shiv felt a spike of pain until his body adapted. Adam looked away as his armor rapidly heated.
“Ow! Ow! Ow!” the Young Lord hissed.
“Marikos!” Shiv cried. “If you’re going to do this, maybe do it somewhere else—it’s affecting other people!”
Marikos paused, then offered Shiv a sheepish look as he made the flames disappear as fast as they came. The Dynamancer whimpered in pain as Marikos dropped him back on the ground. “Ah, I am sorry. My heart is one of blood and battle. I have been honed by struggle, and sometimes I forget myself. I apologize, my glorious, young friend.”
Shiv nodded. “Well, at least you listened.”
“Yes,” Valor said, eyeing Shiv. “He listens to you more than anyone else I’ve seen.”
“Because he listened first,” Marikos said, raising a clawed finger. “When I was at my lowest outside Weave, he spoke to me. He heard my shame and did not judge me.”
The dragon turned around. “Hear me now,” Marikos cried to his Dragon-Knights. Then, he paused and looked at Shiv. “Is your highest skill Master-Tier?”
Shiv nodded. It was technically a lie, but he didn’t want people to know too much about him. Especially those that might end up facing him down the line. “Yeah—”
Marikos immediately continued with his proclamation. “Let us praise Master Shiv—a paragon from the surface. Despite the war between us, anyone can seek virtue and walk a higher Path. Hear my praise: Hail Shiv! Hail Shiv the Listener! Hail Shiv, he who has risen beyond the Light-Cursed surface! Hail, hail, hail!”
The dragons cheered in unison. Shiv didn’t know how to feel, but praise was nice after a lifetime of scorn. Adam shuddered at each cheer, holding his head. “I am in one of the worst fever dreams of my life,” he complained.
As the cheering died down, Sir Marikos looked down at Shiv. “And the other traitors—what of them?”
“Slain,” Shiv said with a grin. “They put up a hell of a fight.”
Marikos grumbled. “Traitor or not, they were once Dragon-Knights—few adversaries match our caliber. To best a Lance in battle… Truly remarkable. If you ever seek to join a worthy order, I will support your entrance to any brotherhood you wish to join as a Dragon-Knight squire. You would make a formidable dragon, Shiv. I will see to your Matrimony. In fact, you can venture to the Abyss’s depths where the body of the Great One bleeds and challenge its greatest gates right now. Just say the word, and I will—”
“We won’t have time for that,” Valor interrupted. “We must get through the gate. We need to intercept Vicar Sullain before he gains… a weapon.”
“What kind of weapon?” Sir Marikos asked. “What requires such urgency that I cannot even—”
Valor had already shut his eyes in preparation before he interrupted him. “An Animancy Core.”
“An Animancy Core!” Marikos roared. “How can he possess such a thing? Valor, you… Another one of your foolish mistakes has returned to haunt us! I told you it was honorless. I told you not to create such a thing!”
“Create such a thing?” Adam repeated, staring at Valor.
“It was a long time ago, and we were desperate,” Valor said, avoiding the question entirely. “Right now, we need to solve the problem at hand. Help me, Marikos. Behave like a Knight should and let go of our grievances for now. I need—”
“You MURDERED my wife!” Marikos screamed, even louder than before. “And—and you think I can just LET THAT GO?!”
“She was going to kill you!” Valor shouted back, his own temper rising. “She was going to kill—”
“She was my wife!” Marikos’s final roar sent everyone except Shiv and Valor sprawling. Can Hu toppled over. Its dimension shrank back into its metal seed as if it were fleeing from the Dragon-Knight’s wrath.
“That was a hell of a yell,” Shiv muttered, shaking off the concussion. “Adam? Are you—oh.” Adam clutched his head and groaned. “Oh shit.” The Young Lord’s eardrums had burst. Shiv was probably going to need to fix that.
“My wife…” Marikos whispered, near tears. “You could have told me. I would have done right, but you didn’t trust me, and you murdered her. Then you left. Assassin. Coward. You didn’t even have the courage to face me.”
“I didn’t have the courage to hurt you,” Valor admitted.
“But you did,” Marikos sobbed, his voice breaking. “You still did. You called yourself my friend, and you couldn’t even talk to me.” He held out a hand; the flames and rage that once burned bright were gone. “I trusted you.”
“I’m sorry,” Valor replied. “Marikos. Listen to me.”
“No,” Marikos rasped, shaking his head roughly. “It will never be the same again. I will never trust you—”
“And I will live with that,” Valor said. Shiv almost gaped as he realized the Legendary Pathbearer actually sounded hurt.
“No,” Marikos growled. “When you are whole, we will finish this.”
“Marikos…”
“We will finish this. You owe me this.” Marikos slammed his axe into the ground, splitting the very earth asunder.
“Composer!” a Weaveress cried. “Stop it! Stop making earthquakes!”
But Marikos simply glared at Valor, and Valor stared back. Marikos lowered his head. “I have spoken my peace. We will take this traitor back. We send the Composer a boon. She will receive a writ of our shame, treasures, and forces for her next campaign—whatever, whenever, wherever. We are the Descenders. Our honor is ironclad beyond these traitors’ sins.”