Chapter 27.2: The Two Weeks Journey Home - Trouble
Personal System Calendar: Year 0009, Days 1-14 Month IX: The Imperium
Imperial Calendar: Year 6854, 8th month, 1st to 14th Day
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Premonition
As they were about to continue their journey forward on the fourth day, and the familiar rhythm of travel settling over the caravan. The road outside the garrison stretched ahead where various merchants were already on their way out of the garrison; it was a well-maintained Imperial highway cutting through the varied terrain that it was settled into. Everything seemed routine, peaceful even, and with the morning sun warming their backs on the staging area, before they were allowed to jump across the garrison's two way portal. That would eventually let them cross a great distance and would eventually arrive at the other end of the portal, at the town of Bob across the Central sub-continent of Arkanus.
But August felt something unsettling, a sensation he could not quite name. Perhaps it was instinct, that peculiar sixth sense developed through his years surviving, hunting and navigating this world's dangers. Perhaps it was some unconscious recognition of subtle wrongness in the environment. Whatever the source, a sudden tingle ran down his spine, raising the hairs on the back of his neck.
Something bad was going to occur and he was certain of it.
He said nothing at first, not wanting to alarm his companions based solely on a feeling. But he found himself scanning their surroundings more carefully, noting potential weak points within the garrison, assessing defensive positions they might retreat to if necessary. His hand drifted unconsciously toward his weapon.
Angeline noticed his tension. "What is it?" she asked quietly, moving closer to him.
"I am not certain," August admitted. "But something feels wrong. Stay alert."
The warning spread through Talon One without need for dramatic announcements. They had learned to trust each other's instincts, and if August sensed danger, they would prepare accordingly. Weapons were loosened in their sheaths. Their spell casters already began mentally reviewing their combat spells. Everyone's posture shifted subtly from relaxed travel to combat readiness.
The Dragonguard noticed the change as well. Grand Captain Commander Alexander rode forward to August's position. "You sense something?"
"Perhaps," August said carefully. "Or perhaps I am being paranoid. But my instincts are insisting that danger is close, no it has already surrounded the garrison."
Alexander did not dismiss the concern. "I will inform the general to take some precautionary measures. If there is going to be trouble, this place would be the logical target. A portal garrison represents strategic value, it is worth attacking if someone possessed the resources and desperation to attempt it."
The words proved prophetic.
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The Attack
The sun was already beginning its descent towards the evening, the massive curtain walls and towers looming before them with its weathered stone walls testament to centuries of vigilant service. With the portal shimmering within its protective embrace, that familiar distortion in reality that had promised swift passage between distant points.
Within mere minutes before Alexander could inform the general of their premonition, the world erupted in fire and thunder.
A massive explosion tore through the garrison's western perimeter, the shockwave physically rocking the entire installation. August felt the pressure wave hit like a giant's fist, his six-legged horse rearing in panic. Around him, his companions and other people who were lining up to enter the portal struggled to control their own mounts screamed in terror and confusion. (Except for Kirpy' and Rexy)
Stones rattled. Timbers cracked. People stumbled and fell as the ground itself seemed to betray them. A massive column of smoke and flame rose into the evening sky, visible for miles in every direction.
For the first time in centuries, this garrison that had protected the portal was under direct assault. The attackers' goals and reasons remained unknown, but their intent was unmistakable: violence, destruction, and chaos.
The explosion had been massive, clearly magical in nature, striking from multiple angles simultaneously. But the garrison's defenses had not been entirely caught unprepared. The mana bubble shield, that invisible protective dome every portal installation possessed, flared into brilliant visibility as it absorbed and dispersed the incoming energy.
The shield's primary purpose was exactly this: to withstand sudden attacks and buy defenders precious time to man their positions and mount a coordinated response. It performed that function now, though the strain was immediately apparent. The magical barrier rippled and warped, sections glowing dangerously bright where the energy of the blast was most concentrated.
The entire garrison rang with alarm bells, war horns and shouted commands. Soldiers poured from the barracks and support buildings, their training overriding shock and confusion. Officers bellowed orders, organizing the chaos into purposeful movement. Smoke rose through the air in thick columns, and despite the shield's intervention, damage had been done. A breach had been made in the western wall, stone and mortar crumbling to leave a gap in what had been impenetrable defenses.
The shield had absorbed the majority of the explosive force, dissipating it across its entire surface. Without that protection, the entire western section of the garrison would have been obliterated, and everyone within it reduced to scattered remains. But the shield's reserves had been significantly depleted. It would take time to fully recharge as the massive mana collection engines constantly drew ambient magical energy from the air.
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The Response
Commander General Roger, that stern veteran who had greeted them days earlier, was already coordinating the defensive response. He stood atop the command tower, his enhanced vision allowing him to survey the entire battlefield while his mind processed incoming intelligence reports.
"The western wall has been breached but the structure remains sound!" came a report from a junior officer, his voice cutting through the chaos with trained clarity. "Repair teams are moving to reinforce with emergency barriers and earth magic!"
"The Eastern approach is clear for now, sir!"
"Northern position reports movement in the foothills. Possible enemy forces massing."
"Southern perimeter intact. Ballista crews standing ready."
Roger processed the information with the speed of a veteran with considerable experience, his tactical mind already working through scenarios and responses. Where was the failure in their security? How had enemies gotten close enough to launch such a coordinated strike without detection? Those questions would need answers, but not now. Now it was for survival and defense.
"All defensive positions, report status!" he commanded, his voice carrying across the garrison through magically enhanced communication crystals. "I want casualty reports within five minutes. Engineering teams to the western breach immediately. All reserve forces to combat stations. This is not a drill!"
The garrison's defenders moved with admirable efficiency despite the shock of the assault. Commander General Roger had trained his forces well, drilling them endlessly in emergency response protocols that now proved their worth. The initial chaos was rapidly organizing into purposeful defensive action.
For now, their response remained necessarily reactive as they tried to understand what this attack meant and who was responsible. Were these the Fresco's Revenge rebels they had been hunting? Some other dissident faction? A foreign power's covert operation testing Imperial defenses? Each possibility carried different implications for tactics and strategy.
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The True Threat Has Revealed Itself
A few minutes after the initial explosion, the true horror of the assault revealed itself. Massive shapes appeared on the horizon from four directions simultaneously, their approach coordinated with terrifying precision.
The garrison sat on a slight uphill slope, surrounded by a mixture of rugged terrain including plains, hills, and rocky outcroppings. This varied landscape provided excellent defensive positions but also countless approach routes and places of concealment. The attackers had clearly studied the terrain extensively, planning their assault to exploit every advantage.
The enemies must have prepared extraordinarily well to execute such a mission, to slip past the garrison's extensive surveillance network. Mobile scout teams patrolled constantly, and stationary observation posts covered every direction from which threats might emerge. The Imperial intelligence apparatus was vast and thorough, its watchfulness legendary.
Yet somehow these attackers had circumvented it entirely. The massive beasts approaching the garrison were so enormous that hiding them should have been impossible. How had surveillance failed so completely?
The answer, though still unknown to most defenders, was actually quite simple. Magicians were involved, wielders of deceptive illusion magic powerful enough to hide such gargantuan beings from both mundane and magical detection. And not just one such spellcaster but four, each concealing one of the massive beasts and the forces accompanying them.
These were practitioners of Master Rank, Category V, mages who had achieved the highest standard of magical ability. They had spent decades mastering their craft, and several apprentices accompanied each one, their combined efforts weaving illusions sophisticated enough to fool even Imperial surveillance enchantments.
This was no simple raid by disorganized rebels. This was a calculated military operation mounted by people with substantial resources, extensive training, and powerful magical support. Someone had invested heavily in this assault, committing assets that represented years of preparation.
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Emergency Protocols
As the full scope of the attack became apparent, emergency protocols were enacted with practiced efficiency. The portal was immediately shut down, its swirling surface going dark and still as the Imperial Gatekeepers, those specialized personnel who managed the complex magical machinery, executed their emergency procedures.
Closing the portal would effectively seal both entry and exit for the foreseeable future. No one could escape through it, but more importantly, enemies could not use it to transport reinforcements or supplies. A captured but unusable portal was infinitely preferable to one that could be turned against the Empire and its interests.
The shutdown also affected the corresponding two-way connection at Bob's garrison on the distant end. The moment this portal went dark, alarms would sound there as well. The garrison commander would seal his own portal and lock down his facility, treating everyone present as potentially hostile until the situation could be resolved.
Martial law would be declared in both locations. Citizens and visitors in Bob's garrison would be ordered to remain in their homes, shops, or designated safe areas. Anyone found on the streets without authorization would be treated as a hostile entity. If extreme measures became necessary, soldiers were authorized to eliminate threats without trial or formal hearing. Survival of the Empire took precedence over individual rights when an invasion threatened the peace and security of its assets (cities, towns, villages, garrisons, regions, citizens and more).
This meant that August and his entire party, along with nearly a thousand other visitors who happened to be present as tourists, merchants, or travelers, were trapped. There was no escape, no retreat, no option to simply leave and wait out the violence elsewhere. They would remain here until the battle was won or lost.
The Dragonguard faced a divided responsibility that tested their mission parameters. They had been assigned specifically to protect August and his traveling companions, to ensure their safe return to Maya Village. But they were also soldiers of the Empire, sworn to defend Imperial territory against all threats.
Their orders regarding August were absolute, yet defending the garrison was equally critical. Until reinforcements arrived from neighboring military installations, every capable fighter mattered. The pragmatic calculation was clear: if the garrison fell, August and the rest would likely die regardless of how many of the Dragonguard would surround and defend them. Therefore, defending the installation served both their specific mission and their general duty.
Grand Captain Commander Alexander made the decision quickly, balancing conflicting obligations with the judgment that came from decades of service. He would deploy his warriors to reinforce the garrison's defense while maintaining a core guard around August and his companions. It was the best compromise available in an impossible situation.
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Panic and Preparation
The sudden shift from routine travel to deadly combat sparked panic and confusion among the civilian visitors trapped within the garrison. Nearly a thousand people, from wealthy merchants to humble craftsmen, from foreign dignitaries to common travelers, all found themselves in a situation they had never imagined.
They had been passing through what should have been the safest place imaginable, an Imperial military installation with centuries of peaceful operation. Now they were treated as potential enemies until proven otherwise, they were subjected to military authority that superseded all normal legal protections. Freedom of movement was suspended. Privacy was forfeit. Everyone was a suspect until the crisis passed.
Some visitors reacted with anger, demanding their rights and insisting they be allowed to leave. Officers patiently but firmly explained that no one was leaving, that failure to comply with orders would result in detention or worse. A few individuals had to be physically restrained (blades drawn) when they attempted to rush towards the portal, seeking escape that was no longer possible.
Others descended into panic, convinced they would die in the coming battle. Some wept openly. Others prayed to whatever gods they followed. A few simply sat in stunned silence, unable to process the rapid transformation of their circumstances.
But most, after the initial shock passed, began cooperating with the garrison's personnel. They moved to designated safe areas, away from the walls where combat would be fiercest. Those with useful skills, healers, engineers, even experienced hunters who knew how to handle weapons, volunteered their services. The garrison commander accepted all offers gratefully, knowing that every pair of hands would matter in what was coming.
For the Empire, this attack represented something fundamental: war. It was their expertise, their specialty, what they had spent thousands of years perfecting. The attackers had just signed death warrants for themselves and anyone associated with them. The rebels' warranted execution list had just grown by several thousands of names, and Imperial justice, once invoked, was inexorable.
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Orders and Assignments
Grand Captain Commander Alexander found August quickly despite the chaos, the young man standing with his companions, weapons already drawn, eyes scanning for threats with the automatic vigilance of experienced fighters.
"Lord August," Alexander said without preamble, his voice calm despite the crisis. "You and your party are to prepare for combat and position yourselves behind my warriors. We will serve as your primary defense. However, if the situation deteriorates to the point where our line is breached, you are authorized and expected to defend yourselves. I know you are capable of doing so."
It was a statement of fact rather than a question. The Dragonguard had observed August's group during the journey, had witnessed their capabilities firsthand. These were not helpless civilians requiring protection but rather skilled combatants who could meaningfully contribute to the garrison's defense if necessary.
August nodded grimly, his expression hardening with acceptance of what was coming. "Understood. What exactly are we facing?"
"See for yourself." Alexander gestured toward the walls where defenders were gathering.
The beasts approaching were called Bagag-hwa, massive hybrid creatures that represented one of history's darkest experiments. Fifty feet tall at their current size, though capable of growing to eighty feet at full maturity, each one was a nightmare made flesh.
They appeared to be combinations of multiple species, as if some ancient mad wizard had decided to create the ultimate living weapon by merging the most dangerous traits of different creatures. Massive reptilian bodies supported on four legs as thick as ancient trees. Heads that seemed to blend dragon, bull, and something else entirely into configurations that hurt to look at. Skin like dragon scales, thick enough to turn aside most conventional weapons.
Each movement literally shook the ground, their immense weight making the earth tremble with every step. They moved slowly, ponderous as mountains given life, but they possessed tremendous natural defenses. They were mobile siege engines, biological battering rams that could crush stone and men with equal ease.
Historical records indicated these creatures had been created thousands of years ago during the Age of Wonders and Experimentation, when magical researchers had fewer ethical constraints and more ambition than wisdom. They had supposedly been extinct for generations, destroyed or died out after their creators fell.
Clearly, some had survived. Someone had located them, possibly in some hidden valley or forgotten wilderness, and had spent years cultivating them in secret. Raising such beasts required enormous resources: vast amounts of food, secure locations to hide them from Imperial surveillance, and handlers who understood how to control creatures this dangerous.
The planning and investment represented years of preparation. This was not some opportunistic raid but rather the culmination of a long-term strategy. Whoever had organized this attack had committed resources that spoke of either supreme confidence or utter desperation.
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The Defense of the Fort
Riding atop each Bagag-hwa's broad back were rebel forces, dozens of soldiers positioned in fortified structures that resembled mobile fortresses. They carried ladders, ropes, siege equipment, everything needed to assault walls once the beasts brought them close enough. The creatures were being used as both battering rams and mobile assault platforms, a dual function that made them extraordinarily dangerous.
The beasts were mind-controlled, their eyes glowing with the unnatural light of magical compulsion. Whatever rudimentary intelligence they possessed naturally had been overridden by sorcery, transforming them into weapons that would not flee or hesitate. They would advance until they had been completely destroyed or incapacitated, they were now incapable of fear or have any self-preservation.
For now, the garrison's defenses were holding. The beasts were still some distance away, approaching with inexorable determination across terrain that offered few obstacles to creatures of their size. The defenders were using magically enhanced ballistas to engage them, weapons far more potent than what Maya Village possessed.
These were military-grade siege weapons, each bolt as thick as a man's torso and enchanted with penetrating magic that could punch through dragon hide. The goal was to bring down the Bagag-hwa before they reached the walls, or at minimum to injure them enough to significantly weaken their effectiveness.
Massive bolts streaked through the air, their passage marked by a distinctive whistling sound. Some struck true, embedding themselves in thick scaled hide. The beasts barely seemed to notice, shaking off impacts that would have killed ordinary creatures instantly. Their enhanced durability, whether natural or magically augmented, was formidable.
The entire garrison mobilized with impressive speed and coordination. Every soldier moved to assigned positions. Every defensive weapon was brought to bear. Magical communication crystals carried orders across the installation, ensuring coordinated response despite the chaos.
Those same crystals were already transmitting emergency signals, S.O.S. broadcasts that would summon reinforcements from every nearby Imperial installation. Help would come, but it would take some time. The nearest garrison was perhaps forty-five minutes away at forced march. A full battle group would require two hours or more to assemble and deploy.
This battle would determine whether the garrison could hold long enough for that help to arrive. The attackers had bet most of their available nearby assets on this single assault, committing everything to a decisive strike. It was all or nothing, a desperate gamble that would either succeed brilliantly or fail catastrophically.
Commander General Roger continued coordinating the defense from his command tower, his voice steady despite the desperate circumstances. "All batteries focus fire on the southern beast. Concentrate on the legs. If we can immobilize one, it becomes an obstacle rather than a threat. Mage units, prepare counterspells. Those creatures are definitely under magical control. If we can disrupt the compulsion, they might turn on their own handlers."
It was sound tactical thinking, seeking to turn enemy assets against themselves. But whether it would work remained to be seen.
August watched the preparations with a mixture of admiration and concern. The Imperial military was everything its reputation claimed: professional, disciplined, and devastatingly effective when properly deployed. But even the best training and equipment had limits when facing creatures this massive and durable.
"We should offer to help," he said quietly to his companions.
Master Ben nodded slowly. "Those ballistas are not doing enough damage. The beasts will eventually reach the walls. When they do, this becomes a very different kind of battle."
"What did you have in mind?" Erik asked, his hand resting on his bow.
August studied the approaching monsters, his mind working through possibilities. "Magic. Focused magical assault on vulnerable points. Those creatures are massive, but they must have weaknesses. Eyes, joints, underbelly. And Master Ben is right, they are clearly under some kind of magical control. If we can disrupt that..."
He trailed off, the plan forming as he spoke. It was risky, would expose their capabilities more than he preferred, but what choice did they have? If the garrison fell, they would likely die along with everyone else.
And beyond personal survival, there were larger considerations. The loss of this portal would be a strategic disaster for the Empire, disrupting trade routes and military deployment across vast distances. Maya Village, which had just secured Imperial protection and alliance, would suffer from that disruption.
Sometimes survival required taking risks. Sometimes protecting what you had built meant stepping into danger rather than away from it.
"Grand Captain Commander," August called out. Alexander turned, his expression questioning. "My people have magical capabilities that might help against those creatures. I request permission to engage."
The Dragonguard leader studied him for a long moment, clearly weighing the risks of allowing his protected charges into combat against the practical need for every advantage. "What do you propose?"
"Coordinated magical assault on the nearest beast. We target the people controlling it and target any physical vulnerabilities simultaneously. If we can bring one down or at least significantly damage it, that changes our current tactical situation."
Alexander made his decision quickly. "Granted. I will assign a squad to protect you while you work. Position yourselves on the southern wall tower, where you will have a clear line of sight to the nearest beast."
"Understood. We will not let you down."
As they moved toward their assigned position, August felt the familiar weight of responsibility settle over him. His decisions would affect not just himself but everyone present. Their success might save hundreds of lives. And their failure would be catastrophic and would doom them all.
But that was leadership. That was the burden he had accepted when he chose to build Maya Village and protect the people who called it home.
The Bagag-hwa continued their inexorable approach, each step bringing them closer to the walls. Time was running out.
The battle for the garrison's survival was about to begin in earnest.