Hearts of Iron 4 Player's Guide to Save the Isekai World

Unexpected Thrust

Pericote, Central Seine

They swam over the clouds. The sharp-eyed of them all inched near the edge, keeping sight of the wyvern carriage. The remaining ten pegasus knights swerved past the ridges, rolling up and down. The time to strike was upon them. The dead land became alive and orange, and roads and villages took shape; The dark fog continued pushing the oblivious Cascadians and their Princess and Hero deeper into the Seine.

The carriage avoided clouds; Smart, but Pyire Renouf, Prince of Normant, directed his mana into his Scintilla Scepter, and the orb on the tip glowed bright yellow. The days of chanting mankind's peak spells and honing their strongest blades have only begun to fade. The knights followed suit, hanging their scepters over their shoulders at firing stance. No more lurking; no more waiting — today, Normant shall deal the final blow themselves.

They broke out over the clouds. Their killing intent manifested through their auras and signaled their wyverns into folding their wings and diving. The cold air fought them first, howling and surging into the crevices of their armor. The Cascadian knights broke formation and flew between them and the carriage. A vortex manifested on one of the Winged Manasiers, but their scepters flashed and spat their stalactites first. A screech reached them.

The rear left wyvern fell and listed the vessel. Pyire's face turned stiff, but the unmistakable feeling of ecstasy rendered the cause irrelevant. He pulled the reins of his trusty mount as if choking it, but the speed of their descent degraded its agility and took on a quasi-blizzard, staggering their course and momentum. The Normant Prince trembled a breath and added more squeeze to the scepter. As expected of Cascadia's magicians.

"For the glory of our country!" Pyire let loose another precipitating shot.

The others charged and rained another volley, sending two winged manasiers plummeting and the rest scattering. The pegasus knights used the window and broke through them, darting toward the vulnerable carriage. Then the rope holding the dead wyvern snapped and sent the corpse into a death spiral, and the vessel reoriented itself. The coachman took a long clockwise maneuver, and a figure popped out of the rooftop hatch.

The person swiveled the mounted object toward the four charging knights, and a downpour of red scintilla spikes blasted them off the sky. Pyire did not mistake the chill coursing through his body for the cold breeze. It's just as the scouts reported.

"My Prince, should we give chase?"

"No. Conserve our numbers and deal with the knights first. They have nowhere to run," facing the feared Cascadian knights, the last thing they need is a witness. "Now let us join our brothers! My loyal knights, avenge them as we are about to avenge Normant!"

"Hah!"

***

Civic Action Post, Outer District, Cascadia

They couldn't do it without the Artillery Corps, noble men of arithmetic and bringers of civility of what would have turned into a barbaric sight between men of different flags and the same smelted iron dug from the ground. But there's nothing noble in peeling potatoes, and there's perhaps a semblance of civility in the ladle full of spices.

The stockpots lined up full of soup was only a remedy. The veils were off. No sane man can forget the deafening roars, the fog zinging in rotten eggs, nor the hoarse voices mistaken as growls amidst sweat and soot.

Annalise heard stories of the Great Northern Crusades — the camaraderie, sacrifices, and courage — tales that blind truth, the senses. Perhaps the late Hero saw the Dark Ages following the Conclave as a blessing. There can only be so much chaos and Verussea's barbarity to regress civilization and its technology, looking fondly of Golden Ages becomes a given.