𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐈𝐒 𝐍𝐎𝐓 𝐀 𝐒𝐔𝐂𝐂𝐄𝐒𝐒 𝐒𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐘. 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐈𝐒 𝐀 𝐑𝐔𝐈𝐍𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍.
It's the beginning of a new age when Jaylah Imperatrix seemingly returns from the dead to reclaim her throne. And in perfect timing.
In her absence, evil has be...
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Act 4 Chapter 145 JAYLAH
Grass crunched under Jaylah's feet as they walked under the overhang of a stone ridge as gray as the sky. Perhaps it would rain. She hoped not. When they ambushed the Navrikans that night, it would be difficult enough to navigate in the dark, much less ankle-deep in mud.
The enemy was still recuperating from yesterday's attack. So far, Jaylah had received no word of their advancement into the camp of remaining wounded Oceanic soldiers. She would not get a chance like this again. The Navrikans watched her pull the troops far away from the front lines. They would never expect an offensive so soon after she ran away.
She was riding Yanni alongside General Stephanopolous's bay mare. On every side, their troops marched on in perfectly even lines. She could see Zensa's short dark hair beside Adelié's a bit ahead. Sonia and Ghislaine too. They would resent her if she sent them away, but they could not stop her from keeping watch over them. Besides, in that night's attack, they were going to be shooting flaming arrows into the enemy tents from a distance. If anything went wrong, she had given them space to run.
With any luck, they would be marching back into Naxaros as victors, as slayers of the thousands of red soldiers acting as butchers for their Czar. She was marching with her troops while he did not even have the nerve to leave the safety of his gilded palace an entire ocean away. Pathetic.
She needed to draw him out. She needed to make him bleed badly enough that he had no choice but to stop it himself. To face her like a man.
Frankly, she was tired enough that she wished she could dump Godfire onto their encampment and call it a night. Although...they did deserve slow deaths for their blatant hatred of her land. They were so sick, so stupid to come to a land they hated for a man that did not care if they lived or died. He starved and oppressed them. Why did they worship him all the same? What had he done to deserve such blind adoration that she had not?
A pebble fell from above and fell onto the soil with a thud. Yanni balked at the suddenness of it. Jaylah looked up, fearing a rockslide. Instead, she saw the flash of a red coat. She screamed, "Break forma—"
Cannons blasted the men just before her into pieces. Blood splashed against Yanni, who reared at the sudden roar of noise. Something solid and wet hit Jaylah in the chest. She reached down to find an arm missing three fingers in her lap.
If the screaming had started, she could not hear it over the cannons. Everything was so veiled with red she could not tell which way was up. Something heavy struck Yanni's right rear leg. He jerked forward so violently Jaylah nearly fell off.
They were going to die. They were all going to die.
Stephanopolous's steed's hooves were thundering away. It seemed the army was fleeing under his lead. Jaylah wiped the blood from her eyes and Yanni spun to join the others. She stopped him. The army was indeed retreating, but so many were left behind lying in the dirt, still moving. They were being trampled. The second wave of cannon fire hit, dropping a shell so close rubble cut Jaylah's face. Pain exploded. She blinked relentlessly. There was nothing she could do. They had already lost.
