**Jasmine's Log, Supplemental**
**The Cove, Western Coast**
**Rothgard Fall plus 26 days (estimated)**
**13 hours 30 minutes to Black Fleet Landfall**
Wings roar above sand.
Old friends step from steel.
Truth rises from chains.
Captain James Nolan stood on the floodlit beach, the cool night air thick with the mingled scents of spent propellant, seawater, and freshly turned sand. Around him the cove pulsed with quiet purpose—Delta operators moving among the secured Imperials, medical teams tending the freed slaves with calm efficiency. The captured galleon listed heavily against the modular pier, its shattered upper works still smoldering faintly beneath the harsh lights. Nolan allowed himself a moment of measured satisfaction; the decision he had made now hung in the balance of what came next.
A powerful dragon roar shattered the night sky. Verdant burst from the darkness above the headlands, his massive wings silhouetted against the stars, and banked sharply toward the second landing pad where the two VS-22 Jackals were already refueling, their fusion-torch engines idling with a low blue glow. Jasmine rode high on the dragon's back, her figure unmistakable even in the gloom. The great beast touched down with graceful precision beside the gunboats, claws gripping the reinforced surface.
Almost simultaneously a sleek VS-44 Wyvern settled onto the adjacent pad. Its side door slid open with a smooth hiss, and Sarah stepped out first, followed closely by Sebastian. Behind them came a group of Rothguard engineers and volunteers—men and women who had insisted on coming down to help their people directly. Their faces showed a mixture of awe and determination as they took in the floodlit beach and the waiting shuttles.
Jasmine slid from Verdant's saddle and strode forward to meet Nolan, her leather armor still dusted from the flight. She clasped his forearm in greeting, her smile tired but genuine. "Captain Nolan. Thank you—for everything. What's going to happen with the ships? The Ironclad and the rest of our fleet… can they be brought up to your base as well, or do we need to leave them here?"
Before Nolan could answer, a voice rang out from the cluster of newly freed slaves.
"Princess Jasmine!"
A tall, gaunt man pushed forward through the crowd, chains already cut from his wrists. His face was half-hidden by matted hair and weeks of grime, but his eyes burned with recognition. He dropped to one knee before her, voice cracking with emotion.
"My lady… it is I, Captain Aric Vale of the Royal Guard. I served your father, King Eldirc. I was with the rear guard when Rothgard fell."
Jasmine's breath caught. She reached down and helped him to his feet, searching his weathered face. "Captain Vale… you were one of my father's most trusted men. What happened? Tell me everything."
The guardsman's voice trembled but grew stronger as he spoke. "Rothgard was overwhelmed by the Imperial armies in a matter of days. Legions marched under black banners without warning. The main cities and the castle town fell quickly. But in the deep forests the resistance still fights. We use hit-and-run tactics, striking their supply lines that feed the massive shipyards they built after stripping Rothguard bare. They tore down the old castle and raised enormous shipwrights in its place, turning our home into a factory for their conquest. The Imperials largely ignore the forest resistance—they see us as gnats, no real value or resources worth committing full strength to. Their focus is entirely on conquering the west and, through it, the world."
Nolan and Voss stepped closer, drawn by the revelation. Nolan's voice was calm but urgent. "Captain Vale, anything you can tell us about their attack plans, their goals—supply lines, command structure, how they intend to conquer this continent—could save thousands of lives."
Voss added, her tone sharp yet measured. "We need to know how they fight. Their fanaticism."
Vale nodded grimly. "They are cruel beyond measure, driven by a twisted creed that the strong must rule and the weak must serve or die. They speak of the Draco Imperia as a divine order—conquest is not just strategy, it is holy duty. Their commanders believe any mercy is weakness. They burn villages that resist, enslave the rest, and move on. But they are stretched thin. Their main strength is still focused on the eastern islands. If we strike quickly…"
The beach fell quiet as the weight of his words settled over everyone. The foxkin child still clung to Vasquez, the newly freed slaves watched with wide eyes, and the Imperial prisoners stared in sullen silence from the Condor's ramp.
Nolan looked from Vale to Jasmine, then to the shattered galleon and the waiting fleet. The war had just become far more personal.
The dragon from the east had come, but now voices from home had joined the fight.
The green watched from the ridge.
The strangers listened.
Two worlds were weaving their fates together.
For now.