A cold air mass from the Northern Continent swept south along the Sonia Sea currents and collided with warm, moist air above Midseashire.
Massive storm clouds smothered the entire sky northwest of Backlund.
Seven thousand meters above the clouds.
Inside the gondola of the heavy airship Grand Duke Ivan, the red mercury in the thermometer was stuck at minus thirty degrees Celsius.
Thick frost coated the window. Warm air from the cabin melted it into droplets that ran down the glass.
Major General Andrei, commander of the Feysac Empire's Third Air Corps, leaned back in a bearskin-covered chair with a thick Cigar in his hand.
A white sea of clouds drifted slowly beneath them.
"How much farther?"
Andrei exhaled a thick plume of smoke.
"One hundred and twenty kilometers to Backlund, General."
His adjutant, clutching a tactical board nearby, answered,
"At our current wind speed, we should reach the bombing zone in forty-five minutes."
Andrei bit down on his Cigar and peered out the window.
The vast airship formation stretched across the clouds.
All 120 Storm-class airships carried bomb bays packed with high-explosive bombs and white phosphorus incendiaries.
"Any movement at the Loen airfields?"
Andrei asked.
"According to our people, Loen hasn't detected us... and..."
As the adjutant spoke, he glanced at the man resting with his eyes closed in the corner.
Ssu-Narna Einhorn, a member of Feysac royalty and a Weather Warlock.
"I've set up twelve powerful convective cyclones around us.
"If those gasoline-powered iron birds dare fly in, wind shear will tear them to pieces."
Ssu-Narna opened his eyes and spoke calmly.
Andrei laughed at that.
Internal combustion engines were certainly useful.
But so what?
A few blueprints couldn't win a war.
Planes carried too few bombs and couldn't fly far enough.
Airships were different.
Buoyancy kept them