Jaguar of the West.  That was what they called him back in Stormhollow.  As he gazed out at the broken ships, listening to the death rattles of dying sailors, he felt like it was a title he deserved, however it might be taken.  It didn’t make him particularly happy, but it was what it was.

It was hard to deny that he certainly looked the part, and he often dressed to match as a way to be recognized on sight even by people who’d never seen him before.  He was tall and broad shouldered, with golden skin and pale yellow eyes.  His skin was far from clear, with moles and spots all over his body, along with large birth marks.  None of this distracted from his relatively good looks, and neither did it concern the Jaguar too much—in fact, he was rather proud of his spots, as they appeared in all members of his Tribe when their Inherited Bloodline was awakened.  The more spots, his Tribe often said, the stronger the individual was going to become, and the Jaguar of the West was quite well-spotted.

He still wore his armor even though the battle he’d just fought had concluded almost an hour ago.  It was a heavily designed ensemble, with large spotted cats decorating his breastplate, and spots on the rest of his plate armor.  Beneath his plate, he wore gambeson made of enchanted jaguar hide, and his helmet had been fashioned to resemble the head of one of the spotted cats, too, complete with small round metal ‘ears’ on top.  To complete the look, his gauntlets had been enchanted and engineered to sprout claws when he balled his fists, which he used as his primary weapon of choice—at least, when his lightning magic was insufficient.

He hadn’t had to use his magic or his fists in this battle, however.  It hadn’t been necessary, their foe hadn’t been particularly strong.  Merely an Imperial scout fleet from the Sword, nothing he hadn’t seen a hundred times before in his centuries guarding the western shores of Kataigida, the island the barbarians called the ‘Sky Devil’s Hell’.  What concerned him, however, was that it was the third scout fleet he’d destroyed in the past week alone.

‘They’re sniffing around our waters,’ he thought to himself as his yellow eyes narrowed and he stared out over the misty waters.  ‘They know we’re up to something, but are they aware of exactly what?’

The target of his gaze was the great island to the northwest.  The island’s original name was lost to history, but these days, it was known by both his people and the Barbarian Empires as ‘The Sword’.  It was an appropriate name, for it was the sword pointed at his people’s neck, a constant threat and reminder that they were no longer the masters of Aeterna.  The island was covered in various naval bases and resupply points, and thousands of Imperial ships patrolled its waters, always on the lookout for raiding parties sent out from Kataigida.

Fortunately, even with all the might of the Barbarian Empires, they couldn’t easily penetrate the shroud of magic that had been laid upon Kataigida.  A ring of thick mist surrounded the island about a mile from shore, almost like the clouds had descended upon the seas to hide Kataigida from view.  But it wasn’t anything so natural, it was due to magic woven by the ancestors of the Ten Tribes that prevented magic senses from penetrating within without preventing them from getting out, and contained many illusions and strange wind patterns that could confuse and throw off-course all but the best navigators.  With extremely few exceptions, only Imperial ships were advanced enough to sail through the misty veil, but given the fact that they couldn’t hide from the forces of the Ten Tribes even within the mist, they rarely sent anything more than fast scouts over the water.  Usually, these scouts weren’t in much danger, doing little more than sailing past Kataigida’s misty shroud, seeing what they could see, and then immediately turning around.  However, the Ten Tribes had recently begun an extreme expansion of their navies and air forces, which allowed the Jaguar to ensure the safety of the western shore better than he ever had before.

They’d come a long way since the last time the Imperials had invaded.  The barbarians had been driven off back then, but only at great cost, and the subsequent punitive campaign the Tribes had launched ended in disaster.  Ever since, there hadn’t been much will within the Tribal Council to build large fleets for anything other than defense.  But that changed five years ago, when the Council finally, after more than half a millennium, elected a new Thunderer, and the man elected greatly prioritized military affairs.

The Jaguar was grateful for the extra support, but when he heard that the new Thunderer was planning on a new campaign, one designed to hopefully seize control of the Sword, he was struck with great apprehension.  The Sword was heavily fortified, and their build-up of arms couldn’t go unnoticed, even with the misty shroud in place.  At the very least, the arks stolen by the barbarians so long ago would see their constructions before they could be run off by the Tribes’ own air forces, and they’d notice the less frequent raids launched as the Ten Tribes built their forces up for something much larger.

These scout ships appearing more and more frequently was a sign that their actions had been noticed, and the Jaguar wasn’t happy about that.

His ship drew close to one of the barbarian ships still afloat, and the close-range cannons on the top deck prepared themselves.  They were fairly small weapons with a barrel only about ten feet long, and a base small enough for three average-sized men to encircle with linked arms.  The base was built to spin, allowing the weapons to be aimed with ease.  As the cannons were lowered to target the ship, the innumerable runes inscribed upon their black steel barrels began glowing with red light, and the steel then started to glow red with heat.

The Jaguar gave the signal when they were in range, and white fire erupted from the cannons.  The barbarian ships were sturdy, made of either steel or heavily enchanted wood, but even that wasn’t sufficient to protect them from his ship’s white flames.  Metal liquified so quickly that only the enchantments prevented it from exploding.  The water around the ship wasn’t so lucky, and the ship was lost in an immense explosion of steam as the white fire swept over it.  The Jaguar’s ship was protected from the steam with magic, but the sounds of the Imperial crew that had survived until now still passed through, their screams piercing through the Jaguar’s eardrums like nails.

With a scowl, he turned away for a moment.  He didn’t like this part of his job, but it was necessary.  Prisoners were taken in the days of yore, but they were more trouble than their worth to keep, and the Tribal Council had ruled many centuries ago to end that policy.  There were to be no prisoners.  The barbarians would find nothing but death if they dared stray too close to Kataigida, treated in the same way that they had treated the ancestors of the Ten Tribes.

Someone nearby shouted out his name, and when he turned to look toward them, he saw one of his adjutants pointing into the sky.  The Jaguar looked up in the indicated direction, and he saw something that caused his scowl to grow even deeper.

‘Inquisitors,’ he thought to himself, his mood dropping in tandem with their descent.

They were riding pegasi, winged horses blessed with great command of air magic.  Such intelligent beasts weren’t typically happy to submit themselves to humans, but the onyx bracelets on the wrists of every Inquisitor ensured their obedience.  These ones weren’t as large as those typically used for Kataigida’s air forces, but their smaller size made them much faster than other war breeds.

It had been several hours since the Jaguar had sent word back to Stormhollow of this third scout force, so he supposed that orders were sent to Raimondas, the great city on the western coast, to send out a force of Inquisitors to see what was going on.

The Jaguar had dealt with Inquisitors before.  They were established only three years ago when the new Thunderer felt the need to bolster the Ten Tribes’ information gathering network, and several intelligence units were merged to form the Inquisitors.  Unlike those other intelligence units, though, the Inquisitors didn’t serve the Ten Tribes, but rather the Thunderer himself, and that infuriated many of the tribal elders.  Dozens of the many Clans that made up the Tribes had already lodged complaints against the hubris and arrogance of the Inquisitors, the Jaguar’s own Clan among them.  Nothing had yet come of those complaints, but the Jaguar knew that if something wasn’t done about them soon, it would enflame tensions between the Ten Tribes, and disunity wasn’t something they could afford on the eve of an invasion of the Sword.

Fortunately, in this case, he saw a familiar face leading the pack of Inquisitors: an extremely serious woman with severe features named Elina.  The Jaguar hated dealing with Inquisitors, but if he had to deal with any of them, he would’ve picked Elina hands down.  She had the same respect for traditional tribal authority as other Inquisitors—which was to say none at all—but she took her job of seeking out information to protect Kataigida as a whole incredibly seriously.  The Jaguar might not like her lack of respect, but he could at least trust that she wasn’t scheming against him or his fleet.

The dozen or so Inquisitors landed upon the deck of the Jaguar’s flagship, scattering some of his crew with the force of their landing.  A few members of his crew shouted at them, but it took little more than a glare from the eighth-tier Elina for the complaints to die down.  The other Inquisitors began to bark orders and questions at the Jaguar’s crew, but as the Jaguar strode toward them, quietly suppressing his urge to start ripping the Inquisitors limb from bloody limb, he let his killing intent spill forth and, backed by his ninth-tier aura, silenced the Inquisitors.

“Elina,” the Jaguar growled as he met the lead Inquisitor.  She was the only one of her group that he spared from the weight of his cold wrath.  “Keep your lackeys in line.  If you have any questions, they are to be directed toward me, and me alone.”

“Understood, Lord Jaguar,” the Inquisitor replied, her tone chilly and unwelcoming, though the Jaguar had no impression that she was being deceitful.  “I’ve come on urgent business,” the Inquisitor continued, moving right on into business instead of wasting time with pleasantries.

“What does the Thunderer require?” the Jaguar inquired.

Elina smiled and turned her eyes toward the wrecked Imperial scout fleet.  “Many things,” she answered.  “But first, we have to get all of that cleaned up…”

---

The Jaguar stared at what was on the table in front of him, his most trusted adjutants and Elina the only others in the meeting room within his ship who were accompanying him.

“You were sent here for this?” he asked incredulously of Elina.

“In part, yes,” she replied as she inspected the belt, gloves, boots, and helmet on the table.  It all appeared to be from a single suit, but they’d pried the pieces off of several different Imperial corpses.  “These suits have been popping up all over these past few years.  They’re supposed to help their wearers fly with ease.  Supposedly, even a second-tier mage wearing a completed suit can fly a couple of miles without much problem…”

The Jaguar’s heart sank.  Typically, it took a mage until they were in the eighth-tier to grow powerful enough to be able to fly under their own power, leaving nearly all other mages to rely on expensive magical beasts or other, much less efficient flight artifacts—something that a second-tier mage could use was startling in its efficiency, and presented a clear danger if the barbarians had acquired such magical technology.

As a result, most air forces were composed of flight-capable war beasts, with nearly all other air forces reserved for arks, and arks and swarms of war beasts were easily seen and tracked.  At least, until now.  If the barbarians were making enough of these suits, then control of the sky would swing hard in the direction of the barbarians.

“How common are these suits?” the Jaguar asked, his deep tone deadly serious.

“Common enough to warrant the attention of an Inquisitor,” Elina replied.

The Jaguar sighed.  “It’s a grave problem, to be sure, but I find the idea that it requires your attention to be kind of ludicrous.”

Elina stared back at him, and then a sly smile spread across her face.  “Good instincts,” she said.  “You’re right, these aren’t the only reason I’m here, though documenting what I can about these new air tactics is of great importance.”

“Understandable,” the Jaguar responded.

“I’m more interested in taking a tour of the western coast,” Elina said as she stepped back from the table.  “Lord Thunder is making some revisions to our current plans.  The invasion of the Sword is being expanded greatly.”

“Expanded?  By how much?”  The Jaguar wasn’t entirely surprised to hear this, but he couldn’t help but wonder just how many resources the Thunderer was planning on pouring into this endeavor and how much time this expansion would cost them.  Already, their preparations were making the barbarians increasingly nervous, and if they waited too much longer to consolidate their forces, then the barbarians would strike first.

“Doubled,” Elina said, and the Jaguar almost reeled.  The greatest fleet in a generation, enough force to give the Ten Tribes confidence in taking on the Sword—that was being doubled?

“And what… pray tell, is all of this force for?” the Jaguar hesitantly asked as countless scenarios shot through his mind.  “More importantly, who will command these fleets?”

“Admirals appointed by the Thunderer,” Elina easily replied.

The Jaguar’s face settled into an increasingly frequent scowl.  ‘More power in his hands,’ he thought.

Elina continued, “We’re no longer planning on just attacking the Sword.  Since the barbarians have been stirred up a little by our building of new ships and war arks, we’re going to sweep them all out of this corner of the plane while we can.  We’ll strike at the Sword and the Shield at the same time.  While the barbarians are distracted, a raiding party will head north and sack Argos.”

“And who will lead that foray across the sea?” the Jaguar asked, but he felt like he already knew the answer.

Elina didn’t verbally respond, but she smiled at him in a way that confirmed what he already knew.

“…  I’ll pass on that honor,” the Jaguar said.  “The invasion of the Sword is where I belong, and that’s where I’ll lead my fellow clansmen and tribesmen.”

“The Sword will have more than enough of our people heading there,” Elina shot back.  “You’re not needed there.  The Thunderer wants you at Argos—”

“I DO NOT ANSWER TO THE THUNDERER!” the Jaguar roared.  His golden skin flushed blood-red and dark yellow lightning flashed across his body for a moment.  A moment later, though, he felt slightly ashamed for letting his emotions get out of his control like that.  He took a deep breath to steady himself and then inspected the damage.

His outburst, and accompanying spike in his aura, had fractured the table and sent the pieces of the flight suit scattering.  More importantly, it had driven his adjutants to their knees and pushed Elina back several feet.  Everyone looked a little sick, but none had passed out, thankfully.

Measuring his tone a little more, the Jaguar said a little more politically, “The Thunderer does not command the Tribes, and we will not bow down to him simply because he demands it.  He was elected by the Tribes, his power is derived from them, not the other way around.”

“That aside,” Elina replied, her voice a little shaky as she straightened herself out and tried to pretend that the Jaguar’s outburst hadn’t affected her, “the fact remains that Argos will be the most vulnerable it’s ever been once our assault is launched.  The seizure of the Titanstone mines in the Shield, the conquest of the Sword, and the destruction of Argos.  Can you deny that any of those things will be an incredible coup?  The commanders of each of these fronts will be commended by all within the Ten Tribes.  Can you really say that storming Argos will be any less glorious than storming the Sword?”

The Jaguar gave Elina a long, hard look, but the Inquisitor weathered his glare admirably.  He couldn’t deny that razing Argos would be a high point of his career, but he’d spent essentially his entire life defending Kataigida’s western coast from the barbarian fleets launched from the Sword.  He wanted to destroy that island, not Argos.  What was more, while Argos would certainly be ‘at its most vulnerable’, that didn’t mean that it was vulnerable.  Argos was one of the most heavily defended cities on the plane, and if the Jaguar were to lead his fleet there, then he’d leave countless of his clansmen and tribesmen dead.  It could weaken his Tribe immeasurably—which, he supposed, could very well be the Thunderer’s plan.  Taking the Sword was going to be incredibly dangerous, too, but it was much closer to Kataigida.  They’d have greater support from the other Tribes and their fleets.

“Lord Thunder has indicated that he’d be fine if you’d rather take on the Sword,” Elina continued, her tone turning a little more conciliatory.  “He believes your talents make you uniquely suited for the raid, but if your heart is set on the Sword, then the Sword is where you and your fleets will strike.  He wants this plan to succeed, for all Kataigida, not just for those of his Tribe.  Please try to understand that.”

The Jaguar’s scowl deepened.  “I’ll take it under advisement.  I must consult with my Tribe’s elders before I make my decision.”

“Lord Thunder will wait for your decision,” Elina stated.  “By the winged grace, we’ll succeed in this endeavor.  For all of Kataigida.”

Recognizing the traditional blessings of her tribe, the Jaguar’s expression softened.  Whatever the Thunderer’s plan was, Elina was clearly in this for all the Ten Tribes.  She believed that this was the best way, and that they were going to succeed—that much the Jaguar could read in her expression.  He didn’t appreciate his Tribe’s authority being undermined, but in the face of that earnestness, he couldn’t help but calm himself down.

“With bloody fangs, our enemies will tremble,” he replied, using traditional words of his own Tribe.

Elina left his ship not long after, taking the rest of his Inquisitors with her.  The Jaguar was left contemplating the problem ahead of him.  He felt it likely that his elders would order him to go to Argos instead of the Sword, if only as a show of good faith with the Thunderer.  He had to prepare himself and his fleet for that raid, or else his ships would be smashed upon the great sea walls of that damned city.

Or worse, he supposed.  He thought of the flight suit and wondered just what else the Barbarian Empires might have been cooking up in these last few centuries.

And then he smiled.  He didn’t relish killing the defenseless but testing himself against the full might of the barbarians was a thing he had to admit that, on a personal level, he was looking forward to.

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