[center][h3] Present Day - Doma[/h3][/center]
 
 
	Two swords clashed.Pulsing flashes of golden light burst forth from the impact , blinding the ring of onlookers. Two heavily armored men circled each other within the ring, chips and flakes running up the length of their blades from the sheer duration of their match. They were adorned in the all encasing golden colored armor of the Suns of Mars, and brilliant flashes of blinding light regularly exploded from their being, as was their stromist training to confuse the enemy. 
 
	Behind the thick metal helmets that encased their heads, two pairs of golden eyes remained unaffected by the displays of light, much in contrast to the dizzied fans watching the bout. Long discarded kite shields were strewn at either side of the makeshift arena, massive dents and tears running along them as if they were thin sheets of metal rather than thick shields of battle.
 
	One knight stood taller than the other, and a look of aggression emitted from his eyes, the rest of his face hidden to the world. The second man had a look of determination and even desperation, the flutes of his armor cut and dented in from powerful blows, and his stance staggering under the constant attack from the first.
 
	“General Caldronax!” A yellow tabard wearing messenger squeezed through the crowd. The skinny man managed to push his way to the front of the crowd in time for the first, taller man to turn his head at hearing his name.
 
	The desperate knight took this as his chance to strike and swung his blade deftly at the back of Caldronax’s leg, but with inhuman speed that could only be described as stromist power, the General quickly lifted his leg and brought his heavy sabaton on top of the other’s blade, trapping it to the ground.
 
	“Urgent news!” The messenger relayed.
 
	Caldronax grunted within the casing of his helmet and turned back to the wide eyed knight, “fun’s over commander.” 
 
	The crowd preemptively cheered, knowing what was to come next. First it started as a whisper, but soon everyone save the messenger and the worried commander was chanting the General’s name. Then with an eruption of bright white light, the entire town square where the fighters found themselves was enveloped in the brain splitting display. A loud bang rang out as everyone stood blind, then the sound of a heavy suit of metal crumpling to the ground soon followed.
 
	As the light dissipated and the negative still burned in the eyes of the onlooking common folk of Doma, The general was seen walking away with the messenger, having left the unconscious commander lying in the street, a concerning dent pounded into his helmet. 

	The messenger and Caldronax strolled passed the many stalls of the merchant district of Doma, the northern sun high in the chilled sky. Fur bearing imperials and northerners alike barked their wares and haggled harshly, while silk covered visitors spun on their heels, lost for direction. Much like the general, other soldiers of Iao’s vanguard were seen in heated duels in every corner and square of the district, much like every district save the residential. Some citizens joined in, some watched, but the majority of Doma denizens ignored them, having seen them every day they had lived in the city of the Archon of War.
 
	The buildings were unassuming and practical, contrasting the major cities of the heartlands of southern Empire, and the only protection offered by fortification was a stout wall ringing the major districts, but in the eyes of Caldronax, that was easily made up for the sheer force Doma could muster in a moment’s notice. 
 
	“General,” The messenger pulled Caldronax’s graeling mind from the campaign that took Doma from his ancestors in the first place, a fact that he did not hold personal. 
 
	“Speak, Argun,” Caldronax lifted his helmet, revealing the pale face of the north, with two golden eyes set deep over a stern look. 
 
	“The numbers have come back from the fire attacks and as requested, I have written them down for you,” Argun produced a rolled parchment from a flap in his deer skin coat. Caldronax raised a palm, not bothering to look at the paper, “I’ll read it later, just give me the details.”
 
	“Thirty-two warships damaged, twelve irreparable, and-”
 
	“Countless fishermen pissed?” Caldronax looked over at Argun with a raised brow.
 
	“Enough to reconquer the entire north,” The messenger placed the scroll back into his coat.
 
	“And the perpetrators?” 
 
	“We couldn’t get a word out of them, but we have news that the fire attacks also took place at all other major ports of the Empire,” The messenger turned with Caldronax onto a neatly fitted stone road. The pathway lead to the great spire ahead of them, the tower sitting on top of the hill that dominated Doma, and served as the central nerve for the city, and ultimately the north.
 
	The spire was one of the few flashy buildings this far north, but was greatly feared by all enemies of Doma as the residence of none other than the great Iao himself. 
 
	“I sent for the other Generals as you requested,” Argun continued.
 
	“Good,” Caldronax answered before falling into a silence. The walk grew tense, as Caldronax looked forward towards the spire with a serious glare that could cut down the thickest forest of jest. The general’s hand fell to the polished pommel of his blade, following it as the blade rattled against the overused scabbard. 
 
	“May I ask your thoughts?” Argun broke the silence.
 
	Caldronax slowly looked over at  Argun, his glare turning into one of a teacher, one of a well versed general, “I would wager Charce had their fingers in this. I can see how they would benefit from the destruction of our fleets,” he rubbed his shaved chin, “gives us quite the opportunity to try out our latest innovations however.”
 
	“Sir?”
 
	“We are down twelve ships, we are going to have to get creative and strike from angles no one is to expect.”
 
	“That’s very Iaonian of you, sir,” Argun looked straight ahead.
 
	“They have made this a war of the North, Argun,” Caldronax looked back towards Iao’s tower, “the least I can do is explain to them what that means, and explain it in the way the North does best. Send word to Ai.”