The mess hall was two floors down from Anders’ chambers and already abuzz with other dragons and riders coming and going. The landing area outside the mess was one of the natural plateaus that occurred as a result of White Cliff’s naturally tiered formation, but despite it being over two hundred feet deep dragons were having to land and take off again in brisk order to keep from causing a traffic jam. Anders hung on tight when Ghain dipped sharply to avoid a smaller dragon that swept overhead unexpectedly, then went in for a landing that made the captain’s teeth click with the force of it─ the best he could have asked for in the circumstances.

That’d show him for skipping out on his riding straps…

Anders dismounted quickly and threw up an arm to shield himself from being buffeted by the wind of his dragon’s massive wings when Ghain took off again, no doubt to go sun himself on their private balcony until his partner was done eating. The captain hurried inside, pushing through one of several sets of large doors, only two of which gave access to the very busy mess hall, and took his place in line. He’d been so fixated on getting a cup of kahv that he hadn’t even noticed how hungry he was but the heady scent of bacon was enough to wake his appetite and remind him he wasn’t just there for caffeine.

A winning smile at the man dishing out griddle cakes earned him one extra and a wink to the older woman serving bacon got him another strip, for which he thanked her effusively until she shooed him away.

“Absolutely shameless,” drawled a voice behind him when he left the line with his tray of food and paused, eyes roving over the officer’s table as he looked for a place to sit.

Anders turned and grinned when he found his second lieutenant, Lora, regarding him with a look of mock disapproval. She too, however, looked to have scored some extras so the captain only countered, “Pot, kettle.”

The woman snorted but couldn’t repress her smile any longer as she tossed her long, light brown hair and fell into step with him as they made a bee-line for the officer’s table, nodding to a few of their fellow legionnaires along the way. Lora was average height with a muscular build for a woman, though that was hardly uncommon among dragon riders─ particularly in the heavy cavalry Gold Legion. A rider had to be particularly strong to ride and fight in the heavy armor they sported as part of Marilderland’s vanguard. She carried it well, and was a strikingly beautiful woman that often left the impression of being overly light-hearted and carefree for someone of her rank. Anders knew better than anyone that Lora was extraordinarily competent not only on the battlefield, but in the war room, and had been overjoyed when she had agreed to be his second lieutenant after he’d been promoted to captain.

Just as valuable to him was his first lieutenant, Helna, who the pair found already at the table, a spot open to either side of her, presumably left just for them. Never much of a morning person, Helna only looked up and grunted vaguely when they took their seats, then turned her attention back to her food and mostly empty cup of kahv.

“Morning to you too, Lieutenant,” Anders remarked cheerfully as he took one of the insulated flasks on the table and topped up her cup then poured some for himself before passing it behind Helna into Lora’s waiting hands.

Helna, tall and wiry with dark hair, narrowed green eyes in her captain’s direction as she slowly chewed a mouthful of bacon then swallowed and said, “Your hair is a mess.”

Anders’ hand went self-consciously to his head where he found that his hair was, indeed, sticking up in all directions thanks to a combination of wearing his flight cap first thing in the morning and the buffeting he’d taken out on the balcony. “It was windy,” he complained and put the bright golden strands to rights as best he could without a mirror. He kept it fairly short and though he’d gotten plenty of good-natured teasing about how it matched the color of his dragon’s scales, his hair was one thing Anders had always liked about his appearance, so he took special care with it.

Lora giggled into her kahv, but of course not a single strand of her own hair was out of place when he turned and squinted narrowly at her, so he said nothing and focused on eating instead.

As they finished up a distinctive horn blared, cutting through the noisy chatter of the mess as every rider and member of support staff there fell immediately silent, listening intently to the coded message. Magically amplified, the sound echoed through every corner of White Cliff, and no doubt through a good portion of the city below─ though it’d be distorted by the surrounding mountains by the time it got that far. The call to arms went out first, followed orders to report for Red Legion, Blue Legion and… Gold Legion.

A little shock of anticipation raced up Anders’ spine as he recognized their call sign and, along with many others in the mess, he and his lieutenants got immediately to their feet, though he paused long enough to take one last swig of his kahv. “Helna, you’re with me,” the captain said, all business now, and the tall woman nodded. “Lora, standard procedure─ assemble our people and have them ready to fly in one hour.”

Lora saluted and immediately left to do just that, gathering fellow Gold legionnaires in her wake as they left to prepare.

Located in the deepest reaches of White Cliff, the war room was a large, octagonal chamber with a long table at its center and a chandelier lit by magic hanging overhead. There was a map already on the table, over which Gideon Westfall, Commander of the Dragon Legions of Marilderland, leaned in heavy contemplation. His appearance was that of a man in his fifties with a muscular build and steely gray hair that matched his eyes when he looked up, though Anders knew for a fact that he’d passed his two-hundredth year shortly after the captain himself had become a rider. Thanks to the bond they shared with their dragons, a rider reaching their third century wasn’t unheard of if they weren’t taken down in combat first, and they enjoyed unusually robust good health up until the end.

Anders immediately saluted when he came to a stop on the opposite side of the table and Helna followed suit. They were the second party to arrive; Kahlin, captain of the Red Legion, and her first lieutenant had beat them there. She offered a nod, which Anders returned, and did the same for Reyvic, captain of the Blue Legion, when he entered a minute later.

“Alright,” the commander said when it was apparent they had all arrived, straightening to regard them properly from across the table. “I’ll keep this brief; we’re working on a narrow schedule here thanks to the involvement of the Gold Legion, so keep your questions ‘til the end,” Gideon instructed.

Anders grimaced internally at the statement about his legion, but didn’t comment. There wasn’t any reason to be offended, technically speaking; Gold and Silver Legions were the heavy cavalry wings Marilderland maintained, made up of the biggest, most heavily armored dragons the Torsay clan had to offer. Unfortunately, that did come with the caveat of their being the slowest fliers. Gold Legion had been assigned to remain in residence at White Cliff of late, while the bulk of its sister legion had been split up between the smaller mixed squadrons assigned to several of Marilderland’s key defensive points.

For the past few months the dragon riders of Sunderland had been encroaching further and further past the border, though never far enough that any but Marilderland’s lightest cavalry wings could respond to calls for aid. The dragons of the Malyara clan were notoriously agile in the air, perfect for the quick raids they’d been perpetuating along Marilderland’s border with Rodshyom, colloquially known as Sunderland on this side of the Ashenge mountain range.

Red Legion was one such wing that had seen a lot of action since the raids began while the standard cavalry Blue Legion had been seeing a gradual up-tick in action as the Sunderish raiding parties pushed further inland. Whether these parties were made up of rogue riders or were an organized offensive on Sunderland’s part was unknown as of yet. While their two countries were not currently at war, a lack of an actual peace agreement meant neither had diplomats within one another’s borders and noble politicking had yet to procure them any clear answers as yet.

In the mean time, the raiding parties had gotten bold indeed if the commander was willing to send the Gold Legion in to fight them. Anders’ riders were never the first to the party, but they were always the ones to end it. If you needed a defensive line shattered or a siege broken, you sent in the Gold and Silver legions, though Anders liked to think that no other wing could match the raw damage his legion could do when it came time to put claw to steel.

Anders leaned against the table with one hand, expression set in a thoughtful frown as he listened. Marilderland was a mostly land-locked country, though approximately one-hundred miles of its border did run along the ocean. Portistown was their only  sizable port, so if Sunderland was going to attack anywhere along the water, Portistown would indeed be the best choice.

It was an odd choice, however. While a great deal of fishing and the like happened out of Portistown, the amount of trade that came in through it hardly seemed tempting enough to draw the Sunderish forces so far from their own border. Destroying the city, while a tragedy in the loss of human life, would hardly make a dent in Marilderland’s ability to thrive as a whole either, which made it an unlikely target to pick for the sake of starting an outright war.

The captain refrained from saying as much, however, at least for now. They were on a tight schedule and no doubt the Commander had realized the same facts himself. Regardless of Sunderland’s reasons, Marilderland would have to send in forces to protect Portistown; they could discuss the ‘why’ of it later. Red Legion, it was decided, would ride hard and attempt to intercept the Sunderish attack force and hold the line until Blue and Gold Legions could catch up and engage, allowing their light cavalry to fall back and recover while they swept up the rest.

Orders given, all three captains saluted and left to rally their corresponding legions up on the plateau where they would launch from. “Debrief Lora if you beat me upstairs,” Anders instructed Helna before they separated and went to their own chambers to prepare.

“Yes, sir.”

A very specific mood always overtook the legion when orders to action came from above. A sort of anticipation that was both grim and eager, though most riders didn’t like to acknowledge the latter. Anders could confidently say that neither he, nor anyone under his command, relished the idea of killing other humans or dragons in combat, but they’d all be lying if they tried to claim there wasn’t a certain sort of allure to the whole endeavor. A siren’s song penned in the blood of friends and enemies alike, calling riders and dragons to prove their mettle in the skies…

The captain gave himself a mental shake then  entered his chambers and began getting ready. Hearing him within, Ghain pushed the door from the balcony open with his massive snout and informed him, “Lahain and Lora are already above, the legion is ready to fly as soon as you and Helna have prepared.”

“That’s quick, even for Lora,” Anders commented distractedly as he stripped out of his doublet and tossed it aside before drawing his riding leathers out of the chest at the foot of his bed. Lahain, Lora’s dragon partner, was the smallest in Gold Legion and held the title of fastest in the wing. Anders had specifically sniped him and Lora from Captain Reyvic when it had come time for the pair to be promoted─ he had barely gotten away with it as Lahain only just met the base-line requirements to be in a heavy cavalry wing.

“It’s been a long time since we had a proper fight,” Ghain pointed out. “The legion is tired of patrol duty and training maneuvers.”

A wry smile pulled at the captains lips as he looked up at his dragon and asked, “Including you, old friend?” Ghain didn’t reply, only snorted and said, “Finish getting ready, no need to keep them waiting any longer than necessary.”

Anders wasn’t sure if his partner meant ‘them’ as in the rest of the legion, or ‘them’ as in the enemy, but Ghain withdrew his head from the doorway before he could ask, so he did as he was instructed instead. Once he’d finished donning the padded leather pants and jacket that went under his armor, the captain collected his all-too-important accessories; a ruby stud for each ear, and a black sapphire ring for each hand. The former bore permanent communication spells, difficult and expensive to make considering the value of the gem needed to hold it, but immensely useful in combat. The stud in his right ear linked up to matching units worn by every member of the Gold Legion so he could communicate orders and hear reports, while the left linked with the captains of the other legions. Their range was only five miles, but that made all the difference in the world in a pitched battle.

The rings he wore both held a number of quick-use spells that would save him air-sketching the necessary runes himself mid-fight when he needed his hands free and his focus sharp, though they also helped him channel greater amounts of magic with less of a drain on his own reserves. The large, black sapphires, each the size of his thumbnail and set into a decorative silver band were worth a fortune, but considering how useful they had proven over the years, were more than worth the coin. Luckily for him, he’d only actually had to purchase one of them; the first had been passed down through his family for generations as such stones usually were. His older sister and fellow rider, Tamora, wore its match.

Overcome by a brief rush of nervous energy as he often was right before a battle, Anders shook out his hands then dragged on his gloves and rang for a servant to help him with his armor.