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– Chapter 24 of the Legends of the DragonRider

Anitra couldn't help but feel a sense of disquiet as she watched the Utopia ready itself for battle. It had always seemed to her like a place of peace and safety, free of crime and entirely unassailable to outside threats! Indeed, that was why the dragons of old had renamed what was once merely 'The Valley of Dragons' into 'The Dragon Utopia' – 'utopia' generally referred to an imaginary place, too perfect to be real, and they had been made to realize that the only thing separating this place, with its verdant jungle, endless wealth and overflowing ambient magic, from being a true paradise… was their own endless squabbling. Thus, they had put aside their differences, agreed to share and share alike, and lived in peace…

Except, that wasn't actually true, was it? They hadn't built a paradise here, they'd built a fortress – a vast Citadel, on a scale unknown in human lands – because they understood that however beautiful their ideals of pacifism, altruism and benevolence were, they were impotent without the power to make them stick. The strength to resist those who thought differently, who believed only in power and wealth. Indeed, the Citadel had weathered more than one major siege before the grand Wall of Illusion was erected around the entire region, providing a seemingly-impenetrable outer layer of defenses. It was no mere monument, no simple display of architectural skill – it was designed to protect the Utopia, and all those who dwelt there, from any who might take offense at what they stood for.

And now… those ancient defenses were being revived, upgraded, enhanced and supplemented. Looking up, she could see the a steady, arcane glow emerge from the top of the dozens of spires that soared above the Citadel, usually serving purely as perches for the dragons. The arcane artillery installed in them was somewhat primitive, but still brutally effective – and, right now, hordes of wizards and their eager-beaver apprentices, were busy tuning them all up, upgrading their targeting-enchantments so they could coordinate with the Citadel's newer defenses, and topping up the roughly-cut gemstones that served as the dusty weapons' batteries. An easier task than it sounded like, apparently – the Utopia's high ambient magic had kept them from losing too much of their charge, even over the course of several centuries.

The far bigger task was the one she'd headed out into one of the Citadel's many courtyards to observe. Work-crews using both magical and mundane methods – whichever category 'dragon-muscle' might belong to – to hoist literally dozens of hefty siege-ballistas onto the wall. And that was just for this particular length of wall! Going by the defense-plans that she'd helped draft – or, at least, stood in the room nodding along while they were being drafted – the entire outer wall of the Citadel, miles and miles of it, would be lined with these imposing weapons. Whether they'd actually manage to get them all into place in time, well, that remained to be seen – but the number that had been churned out already was fairly miraculous all by itself.

The design helped. She'd been there when it was drafted, too – nodding along as usual, as some of the incredibly clever people that the Utopia so readily attracted drew it up. A 'modular design suited for mass production', they'd called it. They were built around a clockwork core that required only a tiny amount of magic to swiftly cock the oversized crossbows – something that had surprised her quite a bit, since she knew for a fact that crossbows with auto-loading enchantments were a thing, so why not just scale that up to ballista-size? There were so many enchanters in the Utopia, after all…

Unfortunately, she'd posed that question out loud, prompting one of the strategists to explain the reasoning to her, with carefully-restrained condescension. For starters, however many enchanters there were in the Utopia, there weren't enough for everything they were now needed for. More to the point, the purpose of this design was to churn out as many of them as physically possible within a short span of time, not create the most perfect ballista possible! The clockwork core, well, only the gnomish artificers had the skill to make those, but a fair number of them had moved into the Utopia after discovering that it was one of the few places where their endless inquisitiveness and appetite for often-chaotic innovation were actually welcomed, and making these cores was one of the few military uses they could be… safely put towards. They were making PILES of them, basically, in very short order – complex though the machinery was by most standards, they considered it child's play, and if slapping together a small mountain of them was what they needed to do to earn their place here in the Utopia, they'd do so cheerfully.

The rest of the construction, meanwhile, was a simple thing made from the springy jungle-wood that was so readily available in this area – something that every carpenter and woodworker in the Utopia, from Rakshasa treehouse-builders to master-level furniture-makers, and most of their apprentices beside, could easily craft. So they had, in overwhelming numbers. The only enchanted part was a small, but potent targeting-crystal at the front, which would enable the ballista-operators – none of whom had any real experience using that kind of siege-weapon in actual battle – to easily hit even distant, airborne, fast-moving targets. And also prevent them from accidentally hitting the wrong targets, of course. All three things were being separately produced in mass numbers, then simply slotted together – bam, hundreds of ready-to-go siege-ballistas! All without overtaxing the enchanters and arcane smiths of the Utopia… who, instead, had been stuck producing thousands of ballista-bolts, enchanted for maximum penetration as well as various other surprises. Apparently, using a ballista with only light enchantments meant that you could use heavier enchantments on the bolts without worrying about 'arcane interference', or something like that.

Those bolts were in appearance too, of course. Neatly-triangular piles of them, tied onto pallets and being lifted into place alongside the weapons themselves. She'd passed through the forges on her way here – the smiths were still hard at work, pounding away right down to the wire, wanting to get just one more shipment of bolts out the door before they had to evacuate. Just like everybody else involved in the project, they'd put aside whatever complex, personal projects they'd been working on – the very things they'd come to the Utopia to gain the freedom to pursue – in order to turn their labors towards the Utopia's defense. "It's hardly fun, but I ain't complaining…" one of them had remarked to a comrade as he paused to wipe the sweat from his brow. "My mama always said to me, there's no dessert without first eatin' your veggies! Well, we've had nothin' but dessert for years, now – so, time to eat our veggies, eh?"

The rumbling of wagon-wheels alerted Anitra to the arrival of another shipment, and she nimbly jumped out of the way. The Equus pulling the cart nodded appreciatively at her – happy not to have to waste energy on going around her. There was always more work to do for the strong backs of the Equus right now – and, if anything, they seemed delighted by the exhausting labor, with many apparently feeling that they were finally earning their place in the Utopia properly. The cart was loaded with yet more stacks of ballista-bolts, each razor-sharp tip glowing dangerously to Anitra's draconic eyes. The sight made the little hairs on the back of her neck stand on end. While she could perceive it, she couldn't analyze magic in any kind of detail, the way some dragons – including Blake – could, but she could instinctively sense when an enchantment posed a potential danger to her or her mate. These bolts very much did. But then, that was the point…

Tearing her eyes away, she swiftly marched through the courtyard towards one of the gates leading back into the Citadel's internals. Judging from the pace everyone was going at, this sector would be fully kitted out with ballistae and bolts in time for the party, if only just. Assuming she didn't hang around and get in the way, or make somebody nervous enough to drop something by staring too intently at them, or something! The way people were looking at her nowadays had, after all, only grown more noticeable as the danger grew nearer. Respect and awe, tinged with a bit of fear… as if the impending battle had forced them to realize that, oh yeah, she wasn't just some nebulously important weirdo in form-fitting black armor, she was the one who'd be leading the charge against the coming storm, while they hid and prayed for her success. Of course, with both her and her sisters stepping up their training-regimens in preparation, a lot more people had also had the chance to see them in action, and recognize just what DragonRiders were capable of – no doubt, word had spread accordingly.

More evidence of this was visible within the hallways of the Utopia – simultaneously busier and emptier than usual. On the one hand, they weren't nearly as crowded as normal, but on the other hand, everybody who was there was rushing around, often carrying something or other, rather than meandering about at a relaxed pace. Not so rushed, though, that they couldn't give way for her, mind – nodding or bowing respectfully. Meanwhile, above everyone's heads, clay pigeons were zipping around at lightning speed, careening around corners and nimbly avoiding both each other and any other intruding obstacles that appeared before them – the Utopia's primary communication-system, operating at capacity. Orbs of Sending had been crafted and distributed to key personnel in order to allow for instant communication, but with so many claims on the enchanters' time, there weren't nearly enough of them to go 'round – and the clay pigeons were plenty fast enough to handle most of the basic, logistical coordination the Utopia was currently engaged in.

Of course, there were also other ways to get a message out – simple, yet effective methods, for when you needed literally everybody to hear them. "Reminder – the evacuation of noncombatants is IN PROGRESS…" a magically-magnified voice boomed, echoing through the hallway and making everybody jump slightly, Anitra included. "If you are in Group 1 or 2, please head to Basement Level 3 by the nearest ramp or staircase, and follow instructions from there. If you are in Group 3, please make sure you are ready to begin moving towards the evacuation-point as soon as you are called. Kindly do not to bring more luggage than you can carry – and remember that any object without affectionate value can be replaced." The voice was calm, polite and firm – also recognizable to many. Argila, the effective administrator of the Utopia, once again making the most of her calming competence. Distantly, Anitra could hear an echo of the words – every such declaration was being shouted across the Rakshasa enclave, the Equus village and the Grand Bazaar/Caravansary, along with resonating through the Citadel. Most of those places were emptied out by now, but the dragons weren't taking any chances – if somebody had somehow missed the earlier calls, there was always the chance that they'd wake up from a particularly heavy nap and go "Oh shit, I'm in Group 1, I'm gonna be late to the evacuation!"

Pausing at an intersection, Anitra glanced down one of the passages – catching sight of one of the wide, spiraling ramps that were the primary method of moving between the Citadel's floors. A steady stream of people were using it, volunteers standing nearby to wave people in and generally keep everybody moving smoothly without shoving or panicking. It was mostly humans, with a smattering of dwarves, half-elves, gnomes and so on, as well as a few Equus mares – most of the Equus and Rakshasa would be heading for ramps closer to the Great Bridge, which had itself been packed with evacuees earlier but would hopefully be just about clear by now, absent any stragglers. Those ramps would likely be a lot more chaotic, with crying children clinging to caretakers and favorite toys, that sort of thing. At least all these evacuees were adults, with a few adolescents mixed in, and they were handling things with reasonable calmness… indeed, some of them looked downright curious, rather than scared.

She could see why, too. The third basement-floor was the lowest level of the Utopian Citadel, and a lot of dangerous things were kept there. As such, the very existence of that floor was generally on a need-to-know basis, shared only with those specifically working on one of those dangerous things. A few human-sized stairwells did cut through that floor, to reach the trapdoors on the underside of the vast Citadel that many of its residents used to reach the crater-lake beneath for an invigorating swim, but those did not allow users to exit on the basement-floors. So, for many, this would be a first look at what went on down there… and for many more, it just seemed particularly strange that the Utopia's evacuation-plans involved hiding in the basement. How would so many people even fit there? Well, they didn't need to worry about that, Anitra knew – but she also knew they were better off not knowing where they were heading right now. Otherwise, there'd probably be a lot more panic…

Looking away, Anitra picked up the pace and continued down the hallway. Her next destination wasn't far and, a few minutes later, she once again emerged into the bright sunlight. The weather was entirely too lovely, she thought wryly as her eyes adjusted to the shift in lighting. Dark clouds ought to be gathering above the Utopia, a chill wind blowing to herald the coming storm. But alas, the weather had no apparent sense of drama, and had thus provided the usual, tropical pleasantness today as well.

She could hear the voices even before her eyes had recovered enough to see them. This was the Citadel's training-grounds, the largest of its many courtyards – but today, it was a parade-_ground._ The dragons who usually occupied this large, open space with their games were busy elsewhere, and instead it now played host to the Utopia's army! It wasn't much to look at, at a glance, Anitra thought as her eyes cleared and she focused on the rank and file – but then, they hadn't had an army just a few months ago, so really, they'd done remarkably well for having so little time.

The final briefing was ongoing. Her inhumanly-sharp ears could pick up much of what was being shouted to the assembled people, but it was a bit hard to keep track when there were several different speeches carrying on at the same time. One one end of the field, she could see – and hear – the Volunteer Force. Young people, all – mostly humans. Basically all of them were apprentices, living a shaky existence in the Utopia, reliant on the good word of their teachers… second-class citizens by any other name. But as of today, that would change. They'd volunteered to fight for the Utopia, despite having little to no combat-experience, and their reward would be full, unequivocal and permanent citizenship.

Of course, the dragons were not so ruthless as to use these earnest youngsters as cannon-fodder. They would, instead, be manning the walls – and, more specifically, the ballistae she'd just watched being pulled into place. A two-man team for each, that was all that was needed, thanks to the clockwork cores and enchantments. Still very much a combat-role, of course, and hardly safe – people, and dragons, tended to take offense when someone started chucking ballista-bolts at them, after all – but, while they weren't wearing much in the way of actual armor, they all wore beacon-bangles. Originally designed to keep kids safe while bathing in the lake, playing in the jungle, or otherwise getting up to potentially dangerous shenanigans, it had been quietly expanded and upgraded over the past few months, adding several new teleportation-beacons for them to connect to, and effectively turning it into a high-capacity rescue-system. Any kind of serious physical trauma would see them promptly warped to the Citadel's infirmary – which at that point would likely no longer seem as 'pointlessly oversized' as some visitors, ignorant of what was to come, had called it.

At the other end of the field, meanwhile, there was a rather more lethal-looking lot. The Armed Response Unit, was what the strategists and defense-planners had dubbed them. Armed, yes – also armored, sharp-eyed, and possessed of an air of lethal competence. About half the unit was made up of Dragonchildren, summoned by Iam's silent call – her own father among them. The rest were adventurers, mercenaries, soldiers of fortune – stealthily invited by Rakshasa spies and other representatives, lured in by the promise of a huge payday, then transported and equipped for the coming battle. They looked far too irregular to resemble a proper army, mind – they'd all brought their own battle-worn gear, then replaced whatever parts of it were lacking with a mess of artifacts from the Utopia's vast stores. Bows, spears, halberds, axes, maces, lots of swords, half-plate, full-plate, chainmail, scalemail, kite-shields, tower-shields, enchanted robes, gem-tipped staves, glittering jewelry of every stripe… about the only thing you wouldn't see there was uniformity.

It was honestly kind of amusing, how easy it had been to outfit them all, Anitra reflected as she moved along the top of the practice-field, trying to see if she could spot her father in that mob. The Utopia had basically been sitting on a whole storehouse full of powerful, heavily-enchanted weapons, gathering dust and nothing else – not because they'd been preparing for this eventuality, but simply because of their general philosophy. Smiths, enchanters, and the Arcane Smiths who did both, were all encouraged to follow their creative urges and interest, crafting whatever they wanted to craft, as long as they also made some things that were useful to the Utopia. And as it turned out, plenty of them wanted to craft cool weapons! However, outside of arming the DragonRiders, which was exclusively the task of one specific Arcane Smith, there was no demand for such weapons in this previously peaceful place. And while most enchanted items were popular as trade-goods, eagerly snapped up by traveling merchants who preferred valuable tools over precious metals and gemstones, the dragons – owing to their general, semi-pacifist stance – did not allow weapons to be exported in this fashion. Armor, shields, other trinkets, sure – but the dozens of powerful, heavily-enchanted swords that the Utopia's smiths had created just for the sake of it, were simply stashed away behind lock and key. Until now, that was. Turned out, very few adventurers were so emotionally attached to their weapons that they wouldn't trade them in for a far more dangerous specimen when offered the chance to do so for free!

They'd get to keep all the gear, too, as part of their payment – an excellent deal for them. Of course, the Dragonchildren would all gain citizenship in the Utopia for their contributions, but some of the regular mercenaries – particularly the older ones – had also made inquiries, seeing a perfect place to retire after a long and storied career. As a result, they had been promised citizenship as an added reward if they distinguished themselves in the coming battle. The dragons weren't too hot on the idea of having a bunch of violent warrior-types suddenly living in their peaceful little slice of heaven, but they also weren't going to forget those who had aided them in their moment of greatest need… so, if everything worked out, it seemed like the Utopia might soon become a rather more boisterous and lively place!

Giving up on spotting her father among those somewhat-messy ranks, she let her eyes take in the rest of the field. The Volunteer Force and the ARU were the biggest groups there, but far from the only ones! Up in the stands, a mass of unarmed people – many of them wearing white robes – were likewise getting a briefing. Healers, Clerics of the Godless Church, Herbalists, and even members of the altruistic group known as the Doctors… all had volunteered to assist. Most would staff the Citadel Infirmary and help cope with the inevitable influx of injuries, but some would instead be stationed at designated landing-sites around the Citadel to help stabilize injured dragons. An unenviable task, considering how draconic magic-resistance made both healing-magic and potions less effective on them…

Another small group was, if anything, even more varied than the mixed mob of adventurers down on the field. Representatives, those, from forces sent by the Utopia's allies – most of them encamped outside the citadel to avoid subjecting them to too much culture-shock. Their officers, though – clad in strange garments and often visibly nonhuman – had come here to discuss coordination and the overall battle-plans. Some of them were familiar to Anitra, personally or in more general terms – after all, several of the alliances that had been called upon were ones she had played a part in creating! – but she restrained herself from waving. There'd be time to catch up with old friends later, if they all survived the coming battle…

A whistling sound drew her eyes away from them. Yet another magical clay pigeon, zipping out of the nearest entrance to the Citadel's labyrinthine internals – except this one was heading straight for her, stopping in midair just before impact, its clay wings still as ever. Feeling a growing anxiety, she reached out her hand, letting the artificial bird alight there to confirm her identity. "Lady DragonRider…" a voice intoned from the small construct, sounding vaguely patronizing. It always did, she'd noticed – probably because its owner was entirely too used to being the smartest person in any room he was in. Still, that was quite an accomplishment in a place like the Utopia, and there was obviously a reason why the various big-headed individuals who'd all contributed to planning the Utopia's defenses had nominated him as the head strategist who would lead the actual engagement. Having multiple perspectives on hand was important during the planning-phase, sure, but once the spells and arrows started flying, there was no time for second-guessing and a single, clear chain of command was required.

Granted, it probably wasn't just because of how terrifyingly intelligent he was that the rest of the planners had picked Lelouche Lamperouge, a young, sharp-eyed man with a fondness for chess, currently studying in the Utopia. The fact that he had recent combat-experience, specifically in what they so grandly called 'asymmetrical warfare', was probably a big factor too – apparently, he'd been leading a highly effective rebellion on some island off to the east, successfully freeing it from the grip of a local, expansionist empire, just a couple of years ago. With such a fresh – and relevant – feather in his cap, it maybe wasn't surprising that several legendary strategists had nodded their gray-haired heads in agreement and given the position to him.

"…the outermost layer of sentinels have reported in. The main thrust is coming from the west as expected, and will reach the outer envelope of our defensive perimeter within two hours." The message had continued, in Lelouche's usual, confident tones, while those reflections played across Anitra's mind… mostly to distract herself from the content. "Please finish your preparations before then. Your sisters have been informed as well, and I believe most of them have already gathered in the Menagerie as planned." The message cut off there, with no further niceties – but then, he was probably quite busy right now too, fully-ensconced in the recently-finished command-center which the Utopia's defense would be coordinated from.

Gritting her teeth, Anitra forced herself to focus. This had been a long time coming. So what if it all felt a lot scarier now that it was here? She had a job to do, and a plan to follow. Of course, there was the slight issue that the Menagerie was located just south of the Citadel, nestled between the crater and the steep cliffs of the southern plateau… whereas the training-grounds, where she was currently at, was in the northeastern corner of the Citadel. It was a bit of a walk, basically – even at a dead run, it'd probably take most of those two hours just to get there_._ So, probably a good thing she wasn't planning to walk…

"Evacuation of Group 3 personnel is now beginning. If you are in Group 3, please finish your current task, then calmly but swiftly move towards the nearest ramp or stairwell to reach the evacuation-point in Basement Level 3…" Argila's voice boomed again, sounding slightly less calm than before as it echoed across the practice-field, making everybody there jump slightly. The briefings suddenly picked up a lot more speed, audible even as the magically magnified voice carried on politely reminding anyone in Group 1 and 2 that if they weren't currently in the evacuation-queue, they needed to haul ass, right the fuck now. The Volunteers were being rapidly divided into squads and assigned a wall-segment. The Armed Response Unit was likewise receiving their assignments, while the medical unit quickly exchanged a few more words, then left their seats and started trotting towards the Citadel interior. The group of external officers likewise broke up moments later, with some heading into the Citadel's passages while others rushed towards a nervous-looking green dragon who was parked nearby, clearly serving as their rapid conveyance.

Clearly, the people giving those briefings knew what it meant when 'Group 3' started evacuating, Anitra reflected as she felt Blake's presence begin to move rapidly towards her, drawn as much by that same Utopia-wide message as her telepathic request for a lift. Back when the plans had first been drawn up, some had resisted the notion of having multiple 'evacuation-groups', since it made it seem like some people were more important than others – rather at odds with the Utopia's egalitarian ideals! But, it had soon been made clear that, firstly, it simply wouldn't be practical for everybody to rush towards the evacuation-points at the same time anyway, and secondly, the groups wouldn't be based on importance, but on priority. Group 1 included elderly residents, children, and their caretakers – all people who needed an early start to make sure they all made it in time, and who were also more likely to get in the way of the final preparations rather than contribute. Group 2 was the broad 'everybody else' – every sage, artist, craftsman, merchant, spy or whatnot that wasn't directly involved in the Citadel's defenses. Group 3, then, were the ones who were – the smiths and enchanters churning out one last stack of ballista-bolts, the wizards rushing to top up one more bombardment-spire, the alchemists trying to finish one more cauldron of healing-potion… to be evacuated only in the last minute. Which was, unfortunately, now.

The flurry of activity caused by the announcement still paused, though, just for a moment – when a black dragon landed above the stands, drawing every eye to him, and to the black-armored woman before him. Let's go. Blake's mental voice was clipped, and laced with carefully-managed anxiety. Anitra didn't respond directly, merely jumping up to grab his neck, then swinging herself from there onto his back, right in front of his wings. He wasn't wearing his saddle, right now, but that hardly mattered – for such a short flight, bareback was fine.

In one powerful leap, Blake was in the air again, wheeling sharply to turn his nose south. Below them, the movement of the assembled people resumed with renewed fervor – clearly, the sight of a Black Dragon and DragonRider taking off in silent determination had underlined the message of that last announcement nicely. Indeed, now that they were in the air, Anitra could see a similar rush happening all across the Citadel, as people and dragons scurried about to finish all the final preparations, careful to cross every t and dot every i. It looked almost like a freshly-disturbed anthill, except that all the movement was disciplined, focused, directed. This wasn't a blind panic – there was a plan, and everybody involved knew their part. They would do that part, and trust everybody else to do theirs.

As they rose higher into the air, she spotted movement off on her right – and turned her head to watch the arcane marvel that was the Great Bridge, lowering itself into the very crater it was meant to span. No mere drawbridge would suffice for the Utopian Citadel, of course, so the vast bridge had instead been made with enchanted support that could draw the central span all the way down into the crater-lake beneath. Sure, the attackers weren’t likely to try and walk in, but this way, the bridge itself would also be protected from damage. More to the point, Anitra reflected, if they were lowering it now, that meant that everybody on the other side of it had already been evacuated – the dragons would’ve flown a sweep over the area to check for stragglers before taking such a step.

Turning her eyes back down, she watched the rooftops, towers, spires and courtyards of the Citadel rapidly disappeared beneath her for a moment, and wondered how the most important person in that vast building was doing. After all, two things sat at the heart of the Utopia's defense-strategy – one being poor Tiffany, who'd had precious little time to adjust to the shift in her life, going straight from being a modestly-successful prostitute to being a reality-warping demigoddess whose efforts would determine the outcome of everything. Hopefully, between Iam's coaching and the confidence-boost Anitra had given her while delving into the depths of her psyche, she'd be able to handle the pressure without crumbling!

The other thing, of course, were the Black Dragons and the DragonRiders. And she, for her sins, had the honor of leading them into battle. It had to be that way, for better or worse. Blake was the Champion of the Utopia. In emergencies – which this most certainly was – he had authority over all of the dragons that lived there, or at least those fit enough to fight… but, he’d ceded command of the overall air-battle to Lelouch, in order to lead the vanguard personally. Then, to her chagrin, he’d delegated the task of directing that, to her – just so that he could focus fully on flying and fighting. It only made sense that she’d handle stuff like communication and coordination, anyway, since she wouldn’t be able to contribute much else once they got into the real meat of their objectives! And, quailing ever-so-slightly at the sheer sense of confidence she could feel from him as he handed her that command, she’d accepted.

Of course, part of those duties lay before the battle even started – that much, Anitra understood just fine. Preparation was key, and all of the Black Dragons and DragonRiders had trained hard for this moment, sharpening their rough edges steadily ever since the impending threat first became clear. Now, it was time for the final preparations – to give each and every one of them the best possible chances. Every advantage, no matter how small, had to be grasped – after all, it would be up to Tiffany, in her new role as Fortuna Reborn, to cover the rest. And if those two efforts failed to meet in the middle… well, best not to dwell on that. Either way, that was why Blake was now swooping down to land on the central plaza of the Utopia's Grand Menagerie.

The place was still under construction, to put it mildly. Once it was complete, it would serve as both a spectacular destination for visitors – who’d no doubt relish the chance to see all manners of dangerous, magical beasties in their natural habitat while remaining perfectly safe – and, more importantly, a source of groundbreaking magical research. From studying the behavior and powers of monsters, to harvesting fur, scale, horn-chips and various bodily fluids to be used as reagents, the research-potential of such a collection was huge. However, there was another reason why the Utopia had rushed to get their Menagerie started, offering large bounties to anyone who could locate suitable residents for it. All thanks to a discovery made by the otherwise self-effacing Tiriana…

The rest of the Black Wing was already there, waiting for them, just as Lelouch had suggested – looking various degrees of nervous, eager, and twitchy. "There she is…" Arsinde, who was definitely in the later category, remarked sharply as Anitra jumped off Blake's back to land nimbly on the cobblestones. "Guess we're all out of excuses not to get started, then. Ugh… I really wish you'd been a bit less observant, Tiri!" The last bit was directed, with a glare, at the half-elven DragonRider, who flinched slightly and put on a wan smile, as if unable to quite decide whether to take it as a joke. She was in the 'nervous' category, not unexpectedly. She had combat-experience, sure, but only Anitra herself had tried fighting in an actual battle – a war – before.

"Don't mind her, dear…" Evereldis calmly reassured Tiriana, acting as motherly as ever – though with a fine edge of crackling energy to her. Eager, that one – definitely eager, to fly into battle and indulge in the kind of grand heroics she'd always dreamed of. "She's just jealous that she never caught on to that detail about the Quickening, clever as she fancies herself! That, and she's scared, of course. We all are." Arsinde clicked her tongue at this, but her attempt to glare at Evereldis came up short against the older DragonRider's motherly gaze. Lazhug, meanwhile, was just watching the entire exchange with quiet bemusement, arms crossed behind her head, entirely relaxed and unconcerned about what was to come. She might not have fought in a full-scale battle before, but she'd participated in plenty of raids with the orcish clan she grew up in, and her experience as an adventurer came on top of that – leaving her with ample combat-experience and confidence in her own strength. Nor did she seem particularly concerned about what their 'preparations' would entail… though, that hadn't been the case when it was first proposed, admittedly.

Anitra took a deep breath. "Enough sniping…" she declared, calmly as she could manage. "We're all on the same team here and, in less than two hours, we'll all be trusting each other with our lives. Remember that. As for the pre-combat prep, it's up to you how you get through it – use it as a chance to get rid of some of your tension, or just close your eyes and think of the Utopia, I don't care. Either way, going into the battle with a Dual Quickening will make you more effective, and make my job easier!" The arguments fell silent there. Even Evereldis, who generally mothered everyone without distinction, seemed to stand a bit straighter. Despite her relative youth, they all respected her, Anitra realized – moreso lately than before. Her experience during the Dream-Dive with Tiffany had… changed her, that much was clear. Regardless of whether she'd actually been trained by her mother's ghost, or just imagined it, the time she'd spent there – mere hours, stretched into years worth of time – had turned her self-taught adventuring-skills into the confidence and presence of a trained and seasoned warrior.

The preparations had, as Arsinde's initial remark suggested, already been completed. Five of those strange, floating, prismatic cubes that the Keepers of the Menagerie used to contain its residents had been moved here, to the central plaza of the partially-built complex – presumably by the Keepers themselves, a rather odd pair of blond-haired youths that Anitra had seen just enough of to know that she wanted to see more of them once things were less hectic. A name had been written on the cobblestones before each cube with chalk, and now, Anitra became the last of the five to take her place atop her name, looking up at the hovering cube with her own brand of eagerness. She certainly knew what she wanted to make of this – a chance to drown her anxieties in pleasure for an hour or so would be most welcome!

The Dual Quickening was a relatively simple concept. Anitra had long been aware of the fact that a Quickening gained from her own mate, Blake, just fundamentally hit different than any other. Sure, it brought no special or unique powers with it, but instead it just made her more… everything. Everything that made her a DragonRider was magnified, from her strength and speed to her magical resistance and, yes, her lustiness. This difference was better understood now that they knew, thanks to Iam's many revelations, that this kind of Quickening was the only one they were meant to have access to. It was there by design, in other words – while the fact that a DragonRider could glean a Quickening from any other source was essentially a serendipitous accident. What Tiriana had noticed – likely through frequent interactions with both her own mate, Slate, and her werewolf butler – was that following up a non-draconic Quickening with one provided by your own mate didn't override the first one, but rather magnified it further and extended its duration. So, you got the overall boost of a Black Dragon-sourced Quickening, and whatever specific abilities the other Quickening had provided. Thus, to make the most of this discovery, the DragonRiders of the Utopia were gathering just hours before the battle was to begin, for a carefully-coordinated monster-orgy…

Turning her back on her sisters for the moment, Anitra stepped up to the cube that hovered before her and reached out to touch it. It responded promptly, if confusingly – seemingly collapsing into a point and expanding hugely at the same time. The expansion shifted before her eyes, swiftly taking on a decidedly non-cuboid shape, first as just a white outline, then something more solid. It all happened in the space of a breath, really – that she was able to follow any part of it was largely down to her DragonRider nature – and then the cube was gone, leaving her 'dance-partner' standing before her. Or, rather, towering over her…

The Tarrasque-cub had grown rapidly since Evereldis had brought it in a couple of months ago. That mission had been quite carefully timed, really – to get the cub during that brief interval where it was old enough to survive away from its mother, but still small enough to be transportable. At this point, it – or rather, he – was already roughly the size of a grown elephant, immediately reminding Anitra of the one she'd 'gotten to know' during her first trip to Mirage City. Only, unlike that elephant, this was not a mere animal, but a monster – a creature whose nature was intrinsically tied to magic, strengthening it well beyond what would normally be possible. Indeed, that was the only way a Tarrasque could exist, even at this immature stage, without being crushed by the weight of its own spike-studded, amber-colored shell.

Seeing it up close like this was quite breathtaking all by itself, Anitra reflected, looking the creature up and down. A brown, scaly body with thick, powerful limbs. Spikes all the way down the shell and tail, growing pointier by the day. A wide snout with a powerful, fang-filled jaw and two extra spikes protruding from the bottom. Two forwards-swept horns, emerging from the skull just about the eyes, still stubby but getting longer. Indeed, the impression of immaturity was undeniable – she'd never seen a fully-grown Tarrasque herself, of course, but she'd heard stories – not least from her mother – and seen illustrations. Compared to those, this specimen had noticeably larger eyes, thicker and clumsier limbs… indeed, while the full-sized specimen could rise on its hind legs, and tower over even the grandest of man-made castles in the process, this one was still a bit unsteady even while moving around on all fours.

That youth was a bit of a double-edged sword, as it happened. Needless to say, a full-grown or even adolescent specimen would be far, far more than what even the most experienced DragonRider could handle, penetration-wise… indeed, at his current rate of growth, this mere cub would be unmanageably big within the year. But, this also meant that he was too young to have any natural urges, his mating-instincts still far from activating normally. The concoction that the Utopia's alchemists had cooked up to induce such urges anyway, while bypassing the Tarrasque extremely high natural resistance to magic, had been based on a potent recipe from Drake's Library of the Obscene – though even then, it had been necessary to further enhanced and strengthened the potion in order to get the desired results. On most creatures, it would likely result in a blind lust-frenzy, followed swiftly by a heart-attack. For the young Tarrasque, whose last fodder had been spiked with it, it had merely left him in a bleary-eyed daze, body twitching with unfamiliar needs…

What with the 'unfamiliar' part of that sentence, though, the baby Tarrasque wasn't in any hurry to jump her – and when she stepped in a bit closer to gently stroke its forehead between the stubby little horns, he just growled softly and started swaying back and forth in time with her hand's movements. The potion had definitely done a number on him. Still, imposing though the bulky creature before her was, Anitra couldn't resist looking around a bit, craning her neck to see the monsters that had been so carefully picked out for her sisters. The Tarrasque was assigned to her because she'd be at the center of the wing, leading and directing their efforts, and thus would likely draw the most attention from their target – the hope being that the Tarrasque's legendary toughness and near-immunity to magic would help her stay alive at that point. By the same token, the rest of the participants in this little orgy were meant to complement the role and combat-style of each of the other DragonRiders…

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PREVIEW ENDS. Wondering what strange creatures might have been picked out for the other DragonRiders, and what other defenses the Utopia might have prepared for the coming storm? Then read the full story on my Discord-server, link is on my Profile!