Turning Point

Dark clouds filled the sky. Wind carrying the scent of damp earth howled in from the northern mountains, sweeping up withered autumn leaves and tufts of grass that spiraled against the train's clean windows. Philip stood in the Iron Throne's tactical command post, watching the wilderness and forests slide endlessly backward beyond the glass, his gaze calm.

Time could mature a person, especially when that time was spent on the battlefield. Even the most inexperienced youth would be tempered into a steady commander. The once young and sharp Cecil knight had now become the highest commander of the Imperial Army. His composed, dependable demeanor was this young man's greatest gain. He stood there quietly, far more restrained than he had been four years ago.

Technical Personnel bustled around the Iron Throne's control consoles, operating the enormous War Machine while maintaining constant communication with the front lines and the rear. A technical sergeant copied down data from a nearby device and approached Philip. "General, the leading engineering train has sent a report. The tracks are connected, and the temporary station is ready. The Iron Throne can proceed at full speed."

Philip nodded. "Full speed ahead. Any new developments at Longwind Fortress?"

"The Typhonians have made no additional moves. General Maryland is continuing his vigilance."

Philip grunted and said nothing more.

He had never expected Knight Maryland, the old-fashioned knight who had once charged a Magic-infused Warship at Stone Fortress while clinging to traditional knightly ideals, to frighten the Typhonians at the border with a string of unexpected schemes. That old-fashioned knight with a head like stone had finally learned cunning calculations in this age of upheaval. Although Philip had yet to receive detailed intelligence on Longwind Fortress's series of operations, the information sent back so far was enough for him to