BOOK TWO: Of Snakes and Savages, Chapter 1.

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"On my mark!" Captain Sol called out. "Three...two..."
    As the first light dawned over the Avalarian Alps and onto the streets of Warfang, Ddraig and Alexander took to the skies; a contingent of the Imperial Guard surrounding them as they flew north, towards the remnants of the old Royal Palace of Warfang. The small group of dragons reached the surviving building in moments, and Ddraig wasted no time in rushing up the wooden stairs to the chambers on the uppermost level; the War Rooms.
    Alexander followed after her, calling out anxiously. "Ddraig! Slow down!"
    Ddraig quickly found herself tiring; the weight in her belly proving more straining than she had thought it would be. She stopped mid-flight, panting, and Alexander was by her side in no time at all.
    "I'm out of shape..." she grumbled.
    "No, you're not." he said, nuzzling her head. "You've just got an egg in your belly."
    "That's hardly an excuse." Ddraig muttered.
    "But it's the truth." Alexander said. "Come on, let's take it slowly from here. We're nearly there."

    "No, Alex. The enemy are on our shores, the nation is in shock and panic. I need to act, and I can rest when this war is over, now come on!"

    The group hurried up the final flights together. In spite of Ddraig's resistance, Alexander held a wing over Ddraig's back to support her, pushing open the doors to the old War Room and helping her inside. Inside, four dragons in full military uniform already waited around a large relief map of Europe; three of them Ddraig's old colleagues, and one of them a newcomer; General Miloslava Novakova, a Slovakian dragoness who up until recently had been serving as the leader of the Okarthellian armed forces. As Ddraig and Alexander entered, each stopped what they were doing and bowed their heads in greeting.
    "Your Imperial Highness," Field Marshal Bertrand said, stepping forwards. "Thank goodness you've arrived."
    "There'll be time for formalities later, Bertrand." Ddraig said, rushing to the table the map was set upon. "What's the situation?"
    He turned back and gestured towards the mass of figures shown along the North Sea Coast. "At approximately 0445 hours this morning, the Sekeolasian Army launched a full-scale assault on the city of Drakenholm; successfully repelling the Imperial Navy and gaining a foothold upon which to launch troops into the city."
    "My god..." Alexander said, while Ddraig looked at the map in horror.
    "But...but how did this happen?" she spluttered. "I thought Drakenholm had better defences than any other port in Avalar!"
    "We all did." General Richter said, moving forwards. "This appears to have been an 'all-or-nothing' move by the Sekeolasians to try and slip past our defensive lines and turn the tides of the war in their favour. And it would seem they've achieved exactly that." he grumbled.

    "And the fleet just let them in?" Ddraig bellowed, pacing back and forth the war room, glaring ocular murder at anyone and everyone in her presence, "Where is the Fleet Admiral? I'll have his god-damn head!" she barked, "Half the fleet, lost in a night! And the city! They've taken Drakenholm because of their failure! WHAT, HAPPENED!?" She sat heavily down in a chair, placing her foreleg elbows on the war room table, and resting her head on her forepaws, "Anybody care to speak?" She asked, her tone suddenly calm, but dangerously angry.

    "We believe..." Field Marshal Bertrand started, "We believe that the coastal patrols were infiltrated, your majesty. Agents of the Sekeolasian Empire must have killed members of the coast guard's observation stations and let the invaders through without a proper alarm being raised. They took us by surprised, Ddraig. Please, accept my apologies."

    "I don't want your apology, you are not to blame," Ddraig growled, "I want to know where we go from here. Every day from now on that we spend sitting on our tails, more of our people will find themselves under the occupation of a Maleforian death cult, and more people will die. We need to act, quickly. So, what do we know about the invasion force?"

    "On the face of it, a small landing force of marines, draconic corps and conscripts," General Linden spoke up, "they seem to be just a token force of 'normal' soldiers, roughly five to ten thousand in number. The lion's share of the army seems to be made up of... Well, monsters. The same monsters that attacked in 07'."

    "Grublins?" Captain Sol, who stood at Ddraig's side, gasped, "It can't be. Not again?"

    "The Sekeolasian ships seem to have also been carrying a stockpile of dark crystals." Richter explained, passing over an aerial photograph. "They've set them up behind their defensive lines, and the damn things...they're twisting the land around them, and the creatures are just springing out of the ground!"

    Ddraig nodded. "The situation looks grim, but it's nothing we haven't fought before." she said, trying her best to be assuring, "We beat them once, we can do it again. We know how they operate, we know their weaknesses, and," she sighed, "And we have Spyro and Cynder on our side. Our enemy might have numbers, true, but we have experience, strength of character, the will of our great people, and most of all, something worth fighting for." She forced a chuckle. "Right?"
    "There's a problem, your Highness." Bertrand said, holding up a clearfile. "They have something worth fighting for as well."
    He scattered the contents of the file across the table. Upon reflection, the papers were posters, propaganda, proudly declaring the liberation of Drakenholm from the 'Avalarian Hegemony' and the birth of a new 'Free City of Drakenholm'. On the poster, a proud Sekeolasian soldier, in smartly pressed uniform, stood with two kneeling grublins, who pulled apart the chains of a worn and battered dragon, formerly chained to a large block with the Avalarian flag carved onto it; the chains smashed, the Sekeolasian pulled the freed dragon up with his talons, and towards a warm purple glow which emanated from behind him and his Sekeolasian standard. In another poster, their puppet leader of the city, the newly crowned Grand Prince, Prince Fredrik I, stood as a proud and triumphant dragon ruler, shaking talons with High Queen Nightshade, the promise of prosperity and glory abound from their union.

    "Propaganda," General Linden sighed, "to legitimize their invasion."
    The room went quiet, the only noises came from the ticking clock, and the rain pattering against the window. "Well," Ddraig spoke up, breaking the silence. Everyone turned to Ddraig. She looked down at the map, and the markers upon it that indicated the military positions of both armies, and the Indomalayan fleet at the edge of the map.
    "So what are we doing next?" Ddraig eventually asked. "Bertrand? Holding them back is one thing, but we can't do that indefinitely."
    "No, we can't." Bertrand agreed. "So far, we've discussed several possible strategies."
    "Firstly," Richter barked, "We could launch a heavy assault now. They won't have consolidated their control this quickly, and we get the chance to drive them back into the sea."
    "At the cost of a very high death toll, both military and civilian." Linden interjected. "It'd likely cause monumental amounts of damage, and would have no guarantee of success."
    "War is a game of risks, Linden." Richter continued, unphased. "Sometimes an act like this is necessary to prevent further bloodshed."
    "What were the other strategies?" Ddraig said, discomforted by Richter's words. 
    "We could look at sending in several infiltration units into the city itself," Linden replied, "with the hopes of taking out the dark crystals themselves. We'd then be able to launch a counter-attack-"
    "Without fear of the grublins respawning." Ddraig finished. "I'm liking the sound of this so far."
    "The problem, your Highness," Richter noted, "is that it'll take time to gather the necessary intelligence to pull off an attack like this, and by that point they'll be in a stronger position. Any move on our part would need to be accompanied by an assault elsewhere to draw their attention, and that's bound to cause heavy casualties."
    "I see..." Ddraig sighed. "Anything else?"
    "Well..." Bertrand paused. "The last option would be to simply hold the line. Wait for the Indomalayans to arrive."
    "A seemingly-logical idea," Richter conceded, "but each day we waste gives them ample chance to push towards the eastern border. If we don't act quickly, we risk them surrounding our forces in Denmark and cutting us off completely!"

Ddraig tapped the table with her talons, feeling her jaw tighten and her temples wrinkle from stress. She spoke, ruefully. "We'll drive them out... But, not yet, because we can't. We'll aid evacuation of whoever we can to further south, and try to draw out the enemy. Then, perhaps we can trap them in an encirclement, and cut them off from supplies. To that end... We continue the invasion of the North. Cut off the supplies at their source."

    "Ma'am, we're going to let them occupy the land?" Richter protested, "They've taken the city! They're invading us, and you're going to let them move even further south? What if they move east, cut us off? How do we control that? There has to be something else!"

    "I don't HAVE anything else!" Ddraig snapped, shouting angrily enough to make evne the hardiest of them take a step back, "I have nothing! Okay? This is the BEST I have right now, so unless either of you got anything, all I can say is we need to lure them in and hope for the best until the Indomalayans arrive."

   

    The squeaking of chair legs pierced the tense atmosphere, and icy blue paws slamming on the table snapped the attentions of everyone to General Novakova, who's small body did little to undermine her imposing stature in the moment.

    "Everyone, please," she spoke with a strong, but charming Slovakian tone, "if I might speak, your majesty, I would like to offer an alternative."

    Ddraig released a heavy sigh of relief. She'd been hoping for something like this. Nova had been rather quiet this entire time, and despite herself, she found some quiet kinship in another female sharing her struggle, not least because Nova's past experiences as a field marshal herself would be invaluable. "Of course, General Nova. Please."

    "If I was to being by telling you that WE call the Second Malefor War The Rape of Okarthel, I suspect you can guess how my nation was brought to ruin by the Dark Lord's armies." Her speech was tinged with a sadness, and a calm anger, longing to unleash it on an old foe like the Grublins. "Your highness, we were forced into guerrilla warfare against Malefor through the conflict. This kind of fight is what me and my kin cut our fangs on, your majesty, and not one Okarthellian soldier in your Empire wouldn't leap at the chance for revenge." She took a breath, "I'll easily be able to find willing volunteers for this mission, I need equipment, and your blessing. I do not require a lot, but enough to run harassment, launch ambush tactics and sow dissent against the Sekeolasian occupation. We may not be able to repel them, but we can slow them, we can hurt them, we can buy the Empire time, and we can make them pay for what they did to our homes, and our peoples!"

    The generals looked around to each other, chatter overtook them all, only to fall silent as Ddraig raised a paw, and tapped it on the table. Everyone sat down again. "...You are a brave woman, Miloslava," Ddraig spoke respectfully, "I'd like to think any one of us would be willing to undertake such a mission in the face of a larger foe like that which we face... And perhaps you should."

    "Your highness?" Richter looked over to Ddraig, unsure of her intend.

    "Perhaps you could combine your plans here? Lure them south, harass them with Nova's team, while also using them for recon and espionage, to prepare an infiltration mission to destroy those crystals." She nodded. "Meanwhile, I'll have the Southern Fleet meet with the Indomalayan Fleet, and they'll launch a combined naval campaign in the North Sea, to break up any blockades there once and for all, and further pave another route for a Scandinavian naval invasion."

    "And I'll get in touch with my men back home in the Netherlands," Alex added, "as I said, we'll arrange a militia to help contain the Sekeolasians, and our ports will attempt to arrange blockade runners and smuggling efforts to help bolster the war effort."

    "Excellent, thanks Alex," Ddraig smiled, "it might be worth getting in contact with the British as well. Whatever they think of us, they won't look too happily on conflict in their waters. If we can convince them to help us, or at least assure their neutrality, perhaps at least we'll know that Wales will enjoy some degree of comparative safety." She tapped the table with her paws again. "Great! So we have a plan! Any questions?"

    "Erm, I have one," Alex said again."

    "Oh? Go on?"

    "What about Cynder?" Ddraig froze as the question hit her. She didn't want to think about it during such a hard time, but she had not choice: That gauntlet was bad news.

    "W-we, we'll figure it out," she stammered, "but they key to doing so lies in Sekeolath. We, we just need to, to be there for her. Spyro's hurt, and she's in a bad place. I want to be there for her, I really do, but..." She sighed, "I'm struggling."

    "We're all struggling, your highness," Bertrand offered, "we've enjoyed peace for too long, and now have been blindsided by sudden battle. Nobody wants this war, but together, we can fight it, and we can win..."

    "...But you should go home, my empress," Richter interrupted, "for your children, at least to let them know what's going on." Try as he might, his eyes trailed down, towards Ddraig's belly. He snapped his head up once Ddraig turned to glare at him, but she knew he was right.

    "Very well," Ddraig nodded, "I need to get in contact with some people anyway. Bertrand, if you could attempt to establish contact with Lojala's government. It would be better if she would come here to assist in the war effort herself. As for me, I'm going to try to get in contact with someone to help me sleep. God knows I need it right now..."