“Hey Jacks, do you see that over there?”

“Aye. Is that a fleet?”

“Looks like it. Was there any notice about a fleet coming our way? Or sailing past us?”

“Nay. They would have told us ahead of time, or sent a runner.”

“Looks like they're striking colours. Wait… is that? … RAISE THE ALARM! INFORM THE COMMANDER! NOW!”

“I've never seen so many ships before!” said one of the remaining lookouts, “There must be at least five hundred of them! Some of them are even flying!”

“Sentries, report!” A tall stag of a deer wearing a velvet cloak appeared before the observation tower addressing the guards.

“A large armada coming from the west, Commander Caspian,” said one of the guards, “Biggest I've ever seen. Most are flying various unknown colours, but a few are flying Armellian.”

“How many?” ordered the commander.

“Hard to give an accurate count, sir. Their numbers are too great.”

“I meant the one flying our colours, you idiot!”

“Oh!” The sentry held up a looking glass towards the armada. “There are three… No, fo-five ships bearing our colours. Three appear to be damaged.”

“Druids’ horns, it's the expedition five years ago! Why would they bring… Oh.” The commander gasped, realisation dawned on him, “Bring me a scribe and pigeon carrier! Send word to Wardress Elyssia! The rest of you, man the defences and ready the guns! PREPARE FOR AN INVASION!”

As their commander issued orders, the lookout kept staring through his looking glass, his eyes wide with disbelief.

“Is that a floating fortress… on a cloud?”

Within the new city of Valeston which is a day's journey on foot from Stag’s Landing, Elyssia Stonebriar, Wardress of the Warrens, perused boredly through the month's tax income to be sent to the capital.

“The harvest is unexpectantly abundant this year, which means we are to have another surplus, which means we need more granaries, which means we need more building material, which means we need more workers, which means we need more money, which means we need to raise taxes,”she mused as she slumped her head on her desk. “Wyld’s roots,” she groaned, all decorum tossed to the wind, “if only I could be freed from this prison of paperwork. I am supposed to be an architect, an innovator, a city planner; not some accountant pushing quills and ink on musty parchments! I've built town walls that could match the marvel and strength of the capital itself during the war!”

She suddenly stood up from her desk, “And look where I am now. Just one city. That was all it took. One city in the middle of the crossroads, then the next thing I knew it's not enough workers, not enough food, not enough guards, not enough merchants, not enough money; JUST NOT ENOUGH! If it's not one it's the other. And whenever there is an abundance of anything there are not enough peasants and noblemen to buy them and not enough merchants to distribute them to the surrounding towns. I could always sell them to the capital but by then they would be worth less than what should be an acceptable price and would inflate the markets. Meanwhile they are occupying ever decreasing storage spaces and rotting there for Wyld knows how long.”

The rabbit once more slumped on her desk and groaned, “I need fresh blood in this city, or at the very least something else to occupy my mind and release me from this boredom.”

Suddenly a persistent knocking came to the door.

“Enter,” said Elyssia half-heartedly.

A chipmunk page swiftly entered carrying a scroll. “Wardress Elyssia, urgent message from a carrier pigeon from Stag’s Landing!”

The Wardress resisted rolling her eyes. “If this is about their shipment of sun-dried mackerel, tell them we have no more storage for it in Valeston.”

The page shook his head, “No my Lady, it's from the garrison commander. The carrier says it's about a sighted fleet from the coast.”

Elyssia's lopped ears slightly raised. “Pirates?”

“Unsure, my Lady, but five of the ships bear the colours of Armello.”

Elyssia's eyes widened. “The Expedition! Pass me the report,” she demanded. As she received it she broke open the seal and read into its contents. As she did so her complexion paled with dread from each detail of the report. “An Armada?! Flying ships?!”

She quickly turned to her page, “Summon my carrier pigeons and scribes, all of them! We must send word to the surrounding towns to raise levies and make for Stag’s Landing! We must also bring word to the Queen! Make ready my carriage and summon my captains. We leave for the ports immediately!”

“Yes my Lady!” the page saluted and left with all haste.

“This was not what I had in mind,” she grumbled to herself as she put on her cloak and made for the hall.

“Parry! Parry! Riposte! Good, again!”

…

“Parry! Parry! Riposte! Well done, Ambrose!”

“Thank you Father,” he panted as he smiled. The young white-furred fox is now twelve years old and is currently sparring with his father, Prince-consort Thane in Brimwatch's barracks courtyard.

“Shall we take a quick break? You seem tired,” asked the wolf to his son.

Ambrose looked up, still panting, “No need for concern, Father. Just let me catch my breath.”

Thane grinned. “Very well. When you are ready then,” he said as he took position.

Just then a shrill voice cried out.

“Prince Thane! Prince Thane!”

A small hedgehog page raced across the barracks calling out to the two royals. “Urgent message from Wardress Elyssia,” he panted as held up a sealed scroll, “I could not find the Queen so I came to find you.”

Thane grumbled as he took the scroll, unsealed it and read its contents. As he read his eyes bulged in disbelief. “A fleet? On our coast?”

Ambrose's ears perked up. “Could it be the Expedition after all these years?” he asked hopefully.

“Could be,” Thane replied, his expression darkening, “if the fleet wasn't more than a hundred strong and wasn't accompanied by floating fortresses on clouds. Sounds like an invasion to me.”

He looked to his son who seemed alarmed by the news. “Go find your Mother, she will most likely be in the Hedge Maze with your sister. Tell her there is a large fleet of ships at the coast of Stag’s Landing and that she needs to prepare to leave by noon. I will assemble the Guard.”

“Yes Father,” Ambrose saluted before racing out the barracks.

Rushing across the castle halls, bumping into the occasional maidservant, guard, minister and chamberlain (offering quick apologies along the way), Ambrose finally reached the hedge maze. The sound of a windpipe was heard as he entered, and while the tune was melodious the young fox cringed slightly at several notes that went either out of key or too forceful. Having a clear idea as to who was playing he withheld calling out as to avoid interrupting the tune, less he received an earful which would only delay his intended purpose for being there.

As adventurous as he was, Ambrose was not comfortable being in the maze, especially knowing that one of the last battles against the Mad King's army took place here. Why his sister chose this unnerving place to be her sanctuary was beyond him. Perhaps it was the blissful ignorance of a seven year old? Maybe it was the tranquillity of the gardens? Or perhaps if Priestess Sana's suspicions were to be believed, his sister has a connection to the Wyld that is deeper than most wolves. He didn’t really know for sure.

Slowing his pace he entered a clearing where the source of the music came from. There sat a young, crimson coloured wolf in a light purple dress with a head piece, playing a peculiar high-pitched instrument (he once heard her call it an ocarina). Standing next to her was his mother, Queen Scarlett herself, appearing to be proud yet wincing from the young wolf's tune if her ears folding were anything to go by. So preoccupied (and if one would dare say, distracted) was she with his sister's playing that Scarlett didn’t even notice him enter, which was quite unusual.

“How was that Mother?” asked the wolf pup as soon as she finished playing.

Scarlett forced out a grin, her ears unfolding, “That was… certainly an improvement from last time, Lycoris. A mite out of tune, a little too high pitched, but overall an improvement."

His sister gleamed at the praise. “You really think so, Mother?” she asked with excitement, “Wait until you hear this new song I composed.”

Choosing this moment to spare his mother from the ordeal, Ambrose revealed himself. “Ahem!”

The two's ears shot up in surprise.

“Oh, Ambrose! We didn't hear you coming,” said Scarlett, “Why didn't you announce yourself sooner?”

“I did not want to interrupt Lycoris’ rehearsal. You know how she hates interruptions,” replied Ambrose with a hint of mischief.

Lycoris stood up and pouted, “Hey! I am not some snob who cannot tolerate the smallest of incon… incon…”

“Inconvenience, Lycoris,” corrected Ambrose as he grinned.

“Don't put words into my mouth!”

“More to the point,” Scarlett interjected, “do you need something from me Ambrose or did your father send you?”

“Oh, yes. Of course. Father told me to have you prepare for departure by noon. A large fleet of ships were sighted at the coast of Stag’s Landing.”

Scarlett’s eyes widened. “The Expedition?” she asked hopefully.

Ambrose shook his head, “We are not sure, although Father thinks it is an invasion force. He mentioned something about a large fleet and flying fortresses from the report.”

Scarlett paled. “By the Wyld,” she muttered breathlessly before she turned to her son, “Why didn't you say so sooner? Actually no, do not answer that. Come along!”

As Scarlett led her two children out of the maze garden, she halted as she heard one of them speak.

“Mother, what is an invasion?” asked Lycoris, a hint of worry in her expression.

Turning to her daughter, Scarlett replied cautiously, “An invasion, Lycoris, is when a kingdom attacks another one, usually to take what is not theirs to take.”

“You mean like when you tried to take the castle from the Mad King?” asked the wolf pup.

Scarlett winced, “And just where did you get that idea from?”

“Some of my friends in the garden told me,” came her reply, “They said they were very sad that you killed them just as they were trying to run away.”

The hairs on Scarlett’s back prickled as she tried to hide her horror. Ambrose on the other hand could not hide his pale expression on his already albino feature.

‘I know this place is haunted but must she say it like that?’ thought Ambrose, almost losing all decorum as he quickened his pace. He kept an eye on Lycoris, cautiously weary of her unique oddities. He had just realised why Lycoris enjoyed being in the hedge maze garden. As much as he loved his sister he had always felt instinctively unnerved by her. Before he'd always thought that her friends were just imaginary, but as time drew on it became clear on the unsettling nature of her so-called “friends”.

“I see,” said Scarlett nervously, breaking the silence, “Perhaps you could tell those friends of yours that I am sorry for their loss and I will make sure that their next of kin will be well looked after.”

Lycoris smiled gleefully. “They would be happy to know that, Mother!”

They exited the maze (much to Ambrose's relief) where two maids awaited them.

“Annis, Claire,” Scarlett addressed the maids, “prepare my armour, tunic and sword! I want it ready within the hour.”

“At once your Majesty!” they replied immediately before disappearing into the castle.

Turning to her two children, Scarlett ordered, “Ambrose, I am entrusting the capital to you and the Council. Stay here, watch over the Castle and your sister until we return.”

“With all due respect Mother, it is not right that I be excluded from this matter,” protested the prince, “I know that I am not yet of age to fight in a battle, but if by small chance that it is the expedition it is only proper that the member of the Royal Family who saw them off to their voyage be present for their return.”

Scarlett narrowed her eyes in disapproval. “There is a time and a place for etiquette and ceremony Ambrose, and I will not risk my only son and heir to uphold appearances; especially on a potential invasion on our shores.”

“But Mother,” Ambrose tried to protest.

“None of that, Ambrose,” rebuked Scarlett. Her scowl softened as she crouched down to be in her son’s eye level, “I know you want to be there to see the return of my old friend but I need you here to watch over the Kingdom and more importantly, your sister. I need you to prepare the Guard if the worst is to happen, is that understood?”

Ambrose’s head hung low. “I… I understand,” came his disheartened reply. He then looked up to his Mother with some steeled resolve, “I won’t let you down Mother.”

Scarlett smiled at that, “I know you won’t.”

“Mother, is the invasion bad people?” asked Lycoris.

“Invaders, Lycoris,” corrected Scarlett, “And we are not sure if it is an invasion, although it seems likely. And if they are invaders then yes, they might be bad people.”

A cheery smile grew from Lycoris. “I don’t think it’s an invasion then, Mother.”

Scarlett raised an eyebrow. “And why ever not Lycoris?

“Because some of my new friends said that their old friends are coming real soon,” she answered gleefully, “They said that they came a long way to run away from the bad people.”

Scarlett and Ambrose slowly craned their heads towards the wolf princess, their eyes widened in alarm.

“Lycoris, what do these new friends of yours look like?” asked Scarlett, her voice barely containing her increasing anxiety.

“Ummm… They were all sorts; wolves, bears, ponies, rats-”

“Was there a rabbit? A Doe?”

“Th-there were several rabbits… a few does I suppose,” Lycoris stammered, unsettled by Scarlett's change of demeanour, “Mother, is there something wr-”

“Names!” Scarlett cut her off, holding her daughter by the shoulders, “Did they tell you their names?!”

“Mother please, you're scaring her!” pleaded Ambrose, grabbing Scarlett by her arm.

Scarlett blinked. Her pause gave way to realisation as she finally saw the fear in her daughter’s eyes. She realised how tight her grip was on her daughter’s shoulders and noticed the tears forming on her eyes.

The Vixen Queen relaxed her grip on her daughter and cautiously embraced her. “I am sorry Riss,” she apologised, wiping tears off of her daughter’s cheeks, “I was just worried, both for you and a long lost friend. I will explain everything later, but for now please see Priestess Sana as you should have before. We told you to inform her of every new friend you made, remember?”

“Yes Mother,” Lycoris muttered an answer with a nod.

Offering a soft smile, Scarlett ended the embrace, stood up and turned to her son and heir. “Watch over each other and our kingdom,” she said, her expression a mix of fear and determination.

“You can trust me, Mother, all will be well,” nodded Ambrose.

“Finally! What took you so long?!” exclaimed Thane as Scarlett entered the barracks.

She was clad in golden breastplate armour with the Bandit Clan’s crest, a cutlass sheathed on one side of her belt and a flintlock pistol hand cannon holstered on the other.

“I had to make other arrangements,” Scarlett replied tersely. She looked to Thane, deep concern in her eyes.

Noticing this, Thane asked, “What is wrong? Did something happen?”

The vixen pondered a moment for an answer until she finally spoke, “Yes, you could say that. I was just informed of the nature of our would-be invaders. They may not be invaders at all, but possibly a diaspora.”

Thane raised an eyebrow. “I assume it was from one of our Scryers?” he inquired.

Scarlett shook her head. “No, from our daughter,” she replied grimly, “Her new “friends” are implying that the expedition brought them here, that they are fleeing from what I can only assume is the Rot.”

Thane's expression now mirrored his wife, “Then it seems they have failed their mission.”

“Perhaps,” she grimaced, “Or perhaps they may be calling for aid. I know not, but I can only hope it is not the former.”

“Try not to be too disappointed. As you used to say, ‘always prepare for the worst’,” said Thane, trying to reassure her.

Scarlett allowed herself to smile at that. “Oh how young we were when I used to speak such things so easily,” she chuckled wryly, her smile forming into a small worried frown.

Setting their unease aside, Thane turned to their Captain of the Guard, “Captain Horace, are our men assembled?”

“Not all. Roughly a thousand strong have been rallied outside the city gates, including our new artillery corp and arquebusier regiment,” replied the Badger Captain, “We are still waiting for the others which should take us til the afternoon to assemble the-”

“No,” Scarlett interrupted, “A thousand will have to suffice for now. It is a three day march to Stag’s Landing, I want our men to start marching within the hour. We'll gather strength as we go. Tell the remaining Royal Guard to defend the capital and the surrounding duchy. Inform Wardress Elyssia to prepare for our arrival, and send word to the other four clans to raise arms and rally at Valeston.”

Horace saluted, “At once, your Grace!”

“Your chariot awaits you, my Lady!” the head horse harnessed to the carriage called out, his tone jovial and unaware to the urgency of the situation.

“About time Ackerson!” Elyssia retorted as she stuffed a bag of scrolls into the carriage, “I hope you and your company can gallop as fast as your wit.”

“They are faster, my Lady,” came the reply, followed by chuckles from his companions.

Unamused and scowling, the rabbit boarded the carriage with a grumble. “Let us put that to the test then, shall we?” she challenged, poking her head out from a window, “Make for Stag’s Landing, post haste! I need to be there before nightfall.”

Ackerson smirked. “Your wish is my command,” he answered before adding, “Alright lads, let's show her our worth!”

The sudden jolt from the horses threw Elyssia back into her seat, almost colliding with one of her maid servants seated next to her.

“Confounded idiot! At least wait until I am seated!” she yelled, unheard from the deafening roar of galloping hooves. “I swear, these riff-raff are getting bolder with their tongues by the day ever since this new regime took over,” she grumbled to herself as she adjusted her cap.

“Permission to speak boldly, Wardress?” a lynx maid servant blankly asked.

Elyssia craned her head towards the maid, her scowl threatening to grow all the more larger. “What is your name?”

“Cassia, daughter of Lilac of the Bandit Clan,” came her flat reply.

Elyssia's scowl eased to an unamused frown. “I see. That would explain your candid demeanour,” she dryly mused, “Speak.”

“My Lady, this maid servant believes that Mr Ackerson's behaviour is due to having a fancy for you,” she politely answered with a small bow.

The Wardress scoffed with a humourless laugh, “Hah! If that idiot thinks he could curry my favour with his brash disposition he is a fool!”

Cassia nodded in agreement. “Indeed he is, but an honest fool nonetheless. He wears his heart in his sleeves, a genuine heart at that,” she answered bluntly, her expression placid.

Elyssia's scowl returned with a raised eyebrow. “I do not like what you are insinuating, Cassia, daughter of Lilac. Neither do I appreciate you overstepping your station. You are my maid servant, not my matchmaker. Is that clear?”

Cassia simply nodded, “Forgive me, Wardress Elyssia. I was merely offering an observation.”

“Then keep your observations to yourself unless it is a matter of consequence.”

“Yes my Lady.”

There was a moment of silence other than sounds of thundering hooves and the clattering noise of the carriage wheels.

The silence was then disturbed by a loud thumping noise from the roof of the carriage.

“Rot’s blighted puss! What is that racket?!” Elyssia growled irritably.

“I believe it is a carrier pigeon,” came Cassia's flat reply, “I noticed it trailing after us for some time now.”

The rabbit glared at her maid servant. “And you failed to mention this beforehand, why?!” she barked, fuming in frustration.

“This maid servant did not know if it was a matter of consequence,” came the infuriatingly calm reply.

This was too much for the enraged rabbit. “Are you an idiot or are you trying my patience?!”

Cassia pondered the question for a moment before answering just as calmly as before, “I suppose it would be both, my Lady.”

Elyssia inhaled through her nostrils before she unleashed her ire with as much decorum as she could muster, “Is that so, you little upstart? Well then, perhaps three moons of latrine duty and ten moons as my handmaiden should cure that idiocy of yours and teach you proper manners while I am at it? What say you, Cassia, daughter of Lilac?”

“I am not proficient at literacy, my Lady,” came her reply.

At that Elyssia smiled a malicious, toothy grin and almost purred her next words, “Oh rest assured, we shall see to correcting that shortcoming. I shall bestow upon you the wonderful world of writing and bury you with so much parchment and paperwork your paws will be covered with blisters and ink. I shall drill upon you every lesson of proper posse and decorum that is expected of your new station until your bones will act before your mind can proce-”

“My Lady, f-forgive this maid servant for interjecting,” a small chinchilla maid meekly spoke out, “but sh-should we not address the pigeon on the roof?”

All eyes turned back to the ceiling of the carriage. The knocking that was ignored and forgotten for a while now kept persisting but clearly slowing down in rhythm, which implied the tired state of the messenger.

“Oh my,” the Wardress simply stated before she opened the sunroof, which promptly dropped the pigeon in an undignified manner.

The messenger groaned as he straightened up with a salute. “Lady Stonebriar, a message from the capital,” he offered a scroll as he panted, clearly exhausted.

The Wardress took the scroll and unsealed it. Before she read its contents she glanced at the tired pigeon carrier. “How long was your flight, herald?” she asked.

“I lost count,” he replied, “I left at noon.”

Elyssia nodded at that as she turned to the scroll. “Maids, offer the herald some refreshments while I see to this message,” she ordered, her eyes still glued to the parchment.

While the maids treated their guest Elyssia's eyes grew wider as she continued digesting the scroll's content. She tossed the scroll aside, reached for her bags and retrieved a blank parchment, a bottle of ink and a quill.

“Herald, are you well enough to reach Stag’s Landing within an hour or two?” she asked.

“From this distance? I am unsure, Lady Stonebriar,” the pigeon shook his head, “Forgive me but I am exhausted. I may not have the strength to reach the town in time.”

The rabbit breathed out a frustrated sigh from her nostrils and nodded. “Very well, take your rest and I shall dismiss you once we reach the town,” she offered, to which the messenger chirped in gratitude. She then pulled a string connected to a bell in front of the carriage, prompting the horses to stop.

“Ackerson!” she barked, her head protruding out the window, “How soon can you reach Stag’s Landing?”

“We can be there before nightfall as you ordered, my Lady,” he replied.

“Can we make it there within an hour or two?” she asked.

The horse raised an eyebrow. “What’s the rush?”

“There is a crisis at the coast, I need to be there as soon as possible,” she barked in her reply.

Ackerson stuck a hoof on his chin in contemplation. “We could try to cut our way through the forest of Felden Grove,” he suggested, “It’s off the main road but it should cut our travel time in half. Provided we don't run into any trouble.”

‘What does he-? Oh, right. The escaped criminals several weeks ago. They roam this area’ she thought.

“We will have to take that chance. Have us cut through the woods, and if we do run into any trouble I will be more than happy to dispense the Queen's justice with my paws,” she declared, brandishing a large head staff.

Ackerson grinned, “As you command, though I hope you have more than your paws to dispense justice.”

As the carriage entered the woods Elyssia opened a compartment under her seat revealing a small arsenal of blades, magical staffs, crossbows and pistols.

“Choose a weapon,” she ordered, taking an old reliable shortsword, “If there are crooks in the forest, I refuse to have us unprepared.”

“Are we to be expendables to soften these potential criminals for you?” asked Cassia dryly, drawing a crossbow.

Elyssia narrowed her eyes. “Mind that tongue of yours, daughter of Lilac,” she snapped, “You are not the one holding a sword. I may not be much of a warrior but make no mistake, I had my fair share of experience during the war against the Mad King and the Rot War.”

Cassia blinked slowly before offering an apologetic bow, “Forgive me, my Lady. It was unjust for me to question your motives.”

Elyssia grunted in satisfaction before passing a hand cannon to the messenger.

“W-wait, you want me to fight too?” the pigeon sputtered in disbelief.

“Considering the likelihood of an ambush and the risk to our lives, yes it is to be expected,” said Elyssia.

“B-b-but Lady Stonebriar, I am no warrior! Not a soldier or even an adventurer. I am but a mere messenger,” he protested in fear as he dropped the weapon on the floor.

The rabbit stared at the pigeon in the eyes, her face threatening to return to a scowl. “What is your name herald?” she ordered.

“G-Gyer of House P-Peck, my Lady,” came the reply.

Elyssia raised an eyebrow. “House Peck? Is this an attempt at a jest or do you take me for a fool?” she snapped.

“N-neither my Lady! It is one of the new houses offered to us by the Queen for our services during the Rot War. We and our sister house of Swift were welcomed to the ranks of the Rabbit Clan and the Rat Clan respectively,” Gyer replied.

Elyssia's expression quirked from one of incredulity to one of bemusement. “Rather creative names for houses, wouldn't you agree, Gyre of House Peck?” she stated sarcastically.

The pigeon blushed from embarrassment as he rubbed the back of his head with a wing, “Us pigeons are not one for glamorous names and titles I admit, and the Queen did find it hilariously amusing.”

‘Clearly’ she thought as the image of the Vixen Queen laughing on the floor after handing their titles came to mind.

“Ahem, history aside,” started Elyssia, “Gyre of House… Peck, to whom do you serve?”

“Her majesty Queen Scarlett, my Lady,” he replied.

“Then as a servant to the crown, if your Queen is in peril would you not lay down your life to rescue her?”

“Y-yes my Lady! If there were no one else, I-I would gladly risk life and wing to come to the Queen’s aid!”

“And why would you do so?”

“I… My House serves not for glory, prestige, honour or wealth, BUT FOR DUTY! If this lowly servant’s life is needed to be given to save our Queen, then I would gladly offer it as demanded by my station!”

“Well then,” she picked up the hand cannon and shoved it into Gyre’s wings, “this is your chance to prove your commitment to your duty.”

The carrier pigeon gawked, “L-Lady Stonebriar?”

“I will not ask you to do something I would not. All I ask is that when the time comes, you will do what is expected of you and your station. Do I make myself clear?”

“Y-yes my Lady!” saluted Gyre.

“Very good,” she nodded in approval before turning to address her maids, “That goes with the rest of you. I know that is not what is expected of your station, but if you value your lives then I expect you all to fight for them when the time comes. Is that understood?”

A round of acknowledgements came from the maid servants.

“Good. Now, I need everyone to keep an eye out for-”

“Milady Stonebriar,” Ackerson's obnoxiously cheery bellow interrupted her, “we have safely exited Felden Grove! We will now be arriving at Stag’s Landing within the hour!”

Silence.

“My Lady? Wardress Elyssia?”

Still silence. Unknown to the carriage master Elyssia was fuming, from shattered pride, well masked embarrassment and compiled frustration throughout the day. The messenger and the maids watched with anxious anticipation of the Wardress’ slowly spewing fury.

All but one.

“Well, that was anticlimactic. I would have thought that after all that build up and your inspiring speech, we would actually encounter some criminals.”

“CASSIA, I SWEAR TO THE WYLD, ONE MORE INSOLENT UTTERANCE FROM YOU AND I WILL MAKE YOU WISH YOU BORN A DEAF-MUTE!”

“Wardress of the Warrens, you came sooner than expecte- oh..”

Commander Caspian of House Redwood took one good look at his liege and immediately noticed the sour look on her face. Upon entering his office he found her thumping a foot on the stone floor and a fuming scowl that barely contained fury or smouldering irritation.

Choosing to avert his liege’s ire, Caspian cleared his throat, “The entire coast is surrounded by the armada and we have tallied at least three hundred ships of various sizes, probably more, not including the flying fortresses of clouds. So far, they kept their distance of at least two leagues from the harbour, save one bearing our colours. We signalled the ship to halt and ordered the bombards ready to open fire. Thankfully they complied and were anchored three yards from the harbour. I was just about to order our fastest ship to board them until you arrived.”

Elyssia hummed in thought, “Have you tried scrying the ship?”

Caspian shook his head, “Wardress, this is a coastal garrison. There are no priests of the Wyld within our ranks and any spell casters among us are not proficient enough to cast such spells.”

“It doesn’t take much magic to cast a scrying spell, you just need time to prepare it.”

All eyes turned to Cassia who stood outside the door.

“I'm sorry, who are you?” asked Caspian, glaring at her suspiciously.

“That would be my new handmaid,” Elyssia answered for her with a grumble.

Caspian blinked and then nodded in understanding, “I see, another victim of disciplinary action then.”

Elyssia's lopped ears twitched upwards. “I beg your pardon, Commander?”

Caspian once again cleared his throat, “With all due respect, my Lady, you have a habit of offering the position of Handmaiden as a form of punishment for any unfortunate maid servant who incurred your ire. I still recall the last one, the poor thing. I still have no idea how you managed to terrify that honey badger.”

“If I wanted to reminisce, Commander, I would have called for a Bard. Now tell me, do we have a solution!”

He sighed, “We do. More specifically, we have options. We can commence boarding the leading ship to assess the situation, we could wait until nightfall to have someone prepare a scrying spell, or we can just bombard these interlopers and hold out until the main force arrives.”

Elyssia shook her head, “Bombarding them is out of the question. I have information from the capital that these may not be invaders, although I have my doubts on its reliability. That said, attacking them unprovoked could offer them justification to declare war on us and the Queen will have my hide on a wall if we choose to start it.”

“Then that leaves us with two options, both with their own risks and advantages. Boarding them would be the prudent and diplomatic thing to do, but if our worst fears are correct…”

“Then the crew may become hostages, or worse,” finished Elyssia.

Caspian nodded, “On the other paw, if we wait for the moonrise for the preparation of a scrying spell, the foreigners might lose their patience and decide they could no longer wait.”

“What about just sending a messenger to them?”

All eyes turned to Gyre who looked suddenly nervous from the attention. “I-I was just w-w-wondering why not just send a-a carrier pigeon to send a message?” he stuttered nervously.

Elyssia and Caspian exchanged a look before turning back to the carrier pigeon. “Thank you for volunteering, Gyre of House Peck.”

“Ehh?”

“Me and my big beak, why did I say that?!”

The lone pigeon cursed himself as he flew towards the anchored ship, a scroll parchment clutched in his talons.

“I might as well strap a burning stick to my talon. At least I can die honourably stupid than to potentially die for delivering a message,” he grumbled before he scolded himself, “Craven fool, this is the only way forward! Feel no pity for thyself, know only duty! Just get on board, deliver the message and be on your way. A simple task, even a half-witted Dodo could- Aaaaagh!”

His ministrations were interrupted as he collided with a grey blur and fell on the deck of the ship. As his vision returned, he was suddenly greeted by the most unusual pair of golden eyes he ever saw. They were unusually large and seemed to be staring in opposite directions, like one of those flounders sold by the fishmongers.

“Oh, so sorry Mr Bird. I didn't mean to bump into you like that,” came an unusually disarming, sweet sounding voice coming from the eyes staring (somewhat) at him.

“No, it was no fault of yours,” said Gyre as he straightened himself up, “I should have paid more attention to my task. I let my mind wander o-”

His mind halted as he beheld the creature before him. It was unlike anything he had seen before; it looked like a horse, but not a horse. It stood on all fours, just a head taller than himself, a grey coat, blonde mane and tail, a short and rounded muzzle that was almost dog-like in shape yet had the face of a horse, and yet stranger still was a pair of feathered wings behind its back. WINGS!

“By the Great Oak's Bark, what are you?!”

The… thing grinned. Grinned. Almost cat-like in manner.

“I'm a pegasus, silly,” it said, “My name's Ditsy Do, though most ponies call me Derpy, don't know why. What's your name?”

After a few false starts he finally spoke, “I-I am Gyre of House Peck, R-royal messenger for the Queen of Armello. Are you the captain of this ship, or perhaps a member of your people's delegation?”

The ‘pegasus’’ large eyes grew even wider in awe. “You're a mailmare too?! Well, not actually a mare ‘cause you're not a pony or a female, but still close enough. Also no, I'm not the captain or any of that other fancy word you said. I'm just a mailmare.”

Gyre stood there dumbfounded. He shook himself off before he started again, “If that is the case, where can I find one of sufficient rank? I have a message from the commander of the garrison and the Wardress of the Warrens.”

“Oh, you can just give it to me and I will deliver it for you,” chirped Ditsy, “Spike and the others are a little out of it due to sea sickness.”

Gyre hesitated as he considered the offer but in the end chose his duty over his safety, if just to avoid the Wardress’ wrath for shirking said duty.

“I am sorry Miss but it would be most improper if I do not deliver it personally,” he said with a short bow, “As a Royal messenger it is my duty to ensure that my liege’s message is received by the appropriate party, less they fall into the wrong paws.”

“Oooooooh,” she cooed with awe before returning to her bubbly personality and shrugged, “Okay, follow me then!”

Gyre was taken aback. He anticipated the usual bravado of stubborn personal servants who would insist on taking his duty from him as a show of superiority as a subtle challenge to their liege (which are not uncommon between servants of differing noble houses and rarely but not unheard of against servants to the crown). This Ditsy Do didn’t seem to care about such social power plays. If anything she seemed amused and all too happy to oblige.

Deciding not to ponder, Gyre followed her into the innards of the ship. As he did so he recognised several Armellians going about their duty alongside similar creatures that this Ditsy Do was, and yet very different. For starters, each and every one of them are vibrantly coloured from their mane to their tails. like waking paintings of an artist’s masterpiece. Another thing of note were the different images on each of their flanks, several appear similar yet all are different. And finally, while they generally have a similar body structure, all have three distinct differences; those with wings like Ms Ditsy, those with horns and (to his relief of normalcy) those without either.

One thing was clear though, everyone he saw onboard (with the obvious exceptions) had a gaunt look about them.

As they finally reached what he assumed to be the door to the Captain’s quarters he heard muffled voices from the other side which he assumed was a discussion between officers of sorts happening within. All voices halted after Ditsy gave three knocks to the door with her hoof.

“Who is it?” came a gruff yet young muffled voice from the room.

“It’s me Spike,” answered Ditsy, “I'm here with a royal messenger from Armello.”

“Oh thank the Wyld!” a feminine voice spoke out, “I was beginning to wonder if they would bombard us. Let them in.”

“You can come in Derpy,” said the first voice.

Ditsy grinned cheerily at that and Gyre thought he heard a squeaking noise as she did. The door creaked open as the two entered.

Almost immediately Gyre was assaulted by the smell of burning coal and brimstone and fanned his wings in an attempt to clear out the stench.

“Sorry about the smell,” said the first voice, clearer now and from one side of the room unseen from the door, “I'm not used to sailing at sea, so I'm kind of a mess right now.”

If it were not for the putrid air Gyre might have sighed in relief. Tensions were already high as it was, and if this leader of theirs is as diplomatic as he is forthright with his subjects then perhaps this was no invasion force at all.

“Pay no heed, your Lordship. I am merely a servant to the crown, here to deliver a message from the Wardress of the War-”

All his thoughts died as he beheld the visage of the largest reptile he had ever seen. It was thickly scaled with purple and green, not of sickly colours but of vibrant and shimmering ones. Spikes lined from the crown of its head down to its back to his tail. What caught him most of all were the wide, leathery wings behind its arms and what appeared to be small whiffs of smoke coming out of its nostrils.

A low rumbling noise was heard from the creature’s stomach and suddenly it belched a small gout of flame with a guttural noise.

“Sorry about that,” the thing rubbed the back of his neck, embarrassed from the casual display of its power, “That was the effect of some potion I took to fix my sea sickness. I guess it didn't factor in a dragon's fire breath.”

Gyre fainted.

“Congratulations, Lord Regent, you terrified him out of his wits.”

“Hey now, how was I supposed to know he'd react like that?!”

“To be fair Uncle Spike, belching out fire wasn't exactly a good first impression.”

“Cut me some slack Flurry, I wasn't built for sailing.”

“Forget impressions, what in Tartarus are we going to do now?! The longer this oversized talking bird stays unconscious the more they'll think we've eaten him!”

“Commander Pharynx is right. Knowing Elyssia, she will not hesitate to sink us to the bottom of the bay the moment she suspects hostile intent.”

“She… She wouldn't do that on a hunch, would she?”

“(Sigh.) Experience, dawning fear and paranoia will most definitely coax her to do so, Captain Sweetie Belle.”

“Then we can't just sit here and wait for the worst to happen!”

“Then what do you suggest, Lieutenant Scootaloo?”

“I don't know, maybe something that doesn't involve us being sitting ducks?!”

“Um, why don't we just apologise?”

…

“Nephew, while I appreciate you trying to contribute, it's not that simple.”

“Why not, Uncle Pharynx? Dad used to say when you do something wrong you apologise.”

…

The kid’s right, we need to send a messenger of our own.”

“No ‘fense Spike, but how in the hay are you gonna dragonfire a message to ‘em?”

“I never said anything about dragonfire.”

“If you are suggesting we send our own messenger, Lord Regent, they would have to be swift enough to avoid archer fire and have muted colours to appear less noticeable. Unfortunately, just about everyone with wings is working to the bone maintaining your floating cities.”

“I could do it.”

…

“I could deliver the message. I may not be as fast as Rainbow Dash but my coat isn't too colourful.”

…

“She is an unpredictable flyer.”

“She would confuse the archers.”

“But isn't she a klutz?”

“Only on Fridays.”

“Everypony else is busy.”

“Not to offend but I have seen her fly before, and her skills are less than assuring. Are you all sure this is wise?”

“To be perfectly honest, she is currently our best bet.”

…

“(Sigh.) Very well, but I insist on being the one to transcribe it. At the very least they should know it is from me.”

“It has been almost an hour! What is taking that confounded bird so long?!”

Elyssia paced around the commander's office, barely containing her instinct to gnaw her teeth.

“You do not suppose something happened on board, do you?” asked Caspian, sharing her sentiments.

Her pacing finally stopped as she thumped a leg on the stone floor. “We might have to assume the worst,” she muttered before addressing the stag, “Commander, order the batteries to prepare to bombard-”

“INCOMING!”

A window shattered into pieces as something burst through, rolled across the room and collided onto a wall.

“BANE'S BEAK! What was that?!” the Wardress yelled, drawing out her shortsword before beholding the projectile.

Her fury was quelled the moment she noticed a grey winged pony, on her back and her large eyes visibly spinning.

“Whooooo puuuut that windoooow therre?” the creature spoke, disoriented.

Elyssia gawked, “What by the Wyld is that?”

The room's door slammed open as three guards burst into the room.

“Lord Commander, are you alright?!” asked one of the guards.

“Guardsmen, where are the sentries?!” Caspian roared, “I want to know why we are not hearing the alarms raised!”

“Y-yes Lord Commander!” one quickly saluted before rushing out the room and shouted, “Raise the alarm! We have an intruder!”

A groan was heard. All eyes turned to said intruder as she casually stood up and smiled. “Hello. Are you the one in charge? I’m Ditsy-”

All weapons were drawn and pointed at the mare.

“... Do?” she squeaked, her smile becoming nervous from the semi-circle of pointed weapons.

“Why are you here, intruder?” Elyssia growled.

Cautiously, the mare opened a saddlebag, reached inside with her mouth and pulled out a sealed envelope... and a muffin.

“Message and Muffin?”

Author's Note

New Player Characters:

Ambrose: The Beloved Prince
Clan: Bandit
Affinity: Day
Fight: 4
Body: 5
Wit: 6
Spirit: 2
Hero Ability; Master of Mischief: Every Trickery Card played gains prestige.

Lycoris: The Haunted Princess
Clan: Wolf
Affinity: Night
Fight: 3
Body: 5
Wit: 3
Spirit: 6
Hero Ability; Ghost Whisperer: Every fallen unit gains scouts on tile until the next turn.

Caspian: Garrison Commander
Clan: Rabbit (I know he isn't a rabbit but any creature can join either of the five clans)
Affinity: Day
Fight: 5
Body: 5
Wit: 4
Spirit: 2
Hero Ability; Stalwart: Whether he wins or loses a battle, Caspian will force his opponents to move from the tile when he attacks and will remain unmoved from his tile when he defends.

Elyssia gained three followers (not in game, just fan creations):
Carriage Master: Gain one additional movement.
Blunt Handmaid: Prestige gain and loss are doubled.
Messenger: Gain a scout for every town under your control.