The Battle of Vile Isle

The force that met the Burmecian fleet was sudden and overwhelming, a storm of wind that immediately began to strip the proud ships of their propellers and sails. Razor-edged cuts began to split across the crews on deck of the vessels, and many began to abandon their ships as they creaked and moaned, threatening to tear apart in the gale. The soldiers were trained, of course, tossed in the wind by landing on the ground with some ease. The largest ships in the fleet still stood, and it was on the Silver Bell that Freya was now standing, covering her eyes and looking down at the island. Their anonymous tip had been quite right, it seemed. Now, she hoped, they could pull this off with as few casualties as possible.

A humanoid form emerged from the cavern but was visible only for a moment, erupting into some great shape three or four times the size of the Silver Bell, its scales deep blue and green with five terrible heads snaking out, each dwarfing Terrato by themselves. Two pairs of wings unfolded in the winds, and the creature's shriek pierced the air, echoing such that Freya was sure it'd be heard as far as Madain Sari. This was certainly a different beast than she had faced down in Memoria with the others, but its essence felt much the same. Readying herself, she took hold of her Dragon's Hair, the legendary spear made from Bahamut's whisker, and leapt at the snarling dragon moving to face her.

---

It was quieter in Tiamat's lair than Fratley had expected. No guardian creatures, no spiders or snakes, or other sordid creatures. The place was the absolutely bizarre combination of a hovel and a palace, poor living conditions mixed in with piles of grand wealth and expensive finery. A horde of treasure lay in a larger cavern big enough for the creature in her true form, but the dragon's riches were not what he was interested in. He stopped at the plain wooden bed that it seemed the creature slept in more in human form more than her horde proper - an odd sentiment, perhaps showing some sort of attachment to her mortal vessel. Still... Fratley had surmised from what he had learned from Freya's old comrades in arms that the dragon was vainglorious. She would almost certainly not ignore a brazen, head-on attack and would meet it without hesitation, without bothering to protect her lair. If the creature had stopped to think about it more, something of her cunning might have found the whole affair entirely suspicious. But thankfully that was not the case and Fratley moved on.

Past stores and stores of unlabeled bottles on wooden shelves, past a curious table where a map of Gaia was strewn (that he would make a mental note of), he eventually found her. She wasn't in a cell proper, but laying down on a small wooden cot with her ankle shackled to a chain bolted to the floor. ...It was uncanny, Fratley thought, as he looked upon Shannon, laying there. She was in appearance every bit like Freya, except perhaps lacking in her confident air. The woman sleeping here seemed like a more meek thing than he expected. Still... she was beautiful, like his lady. Fratley felt a burning in his chest, and something dark inside him seemed to stir impure thoughts, which he cleared from his mind quickly, shaking his head. ...What was that? He'd never... It must be this cursed place, he thought, and proceeded to cut Shannon's shackle free before shaking her awake.

Shannon stirred lazily, enjoying the blissful ignorance of sleep. She was roused by a shaking force of some sort, firm but gentle. Comforting. "Mis...tress?" the word tumbled out of Shannon's mouth uneasily. Tiamat had insisted she call her that and she was still trying to get used to it. For the past week and a half, Shannon's entire life had been under Tiamat's control. From when she ate, slept, or even went to the bathroom, Tiamat had rendered Shannon completely dependent on her captor's mercies to even undertake the smallest pleasures. And when that mercy came, the kindness seemed huge. It had come to the point where Shannon had even started looking up to her captor. They had spoken at points, many times during Shannon's exhaustion. Shannon had expressed her hatred of the creature, of what she had attempted to do, of her role as Abigail Rymes. But Tiamat had brushed it off and focused on Shannon instead. Her creation as one of the Glutton's first 'free-willed' Epitaph clones and her subsequent escape. Tiamat had called her a broken puppet, something that had lost her purpose in life. The words stung, but for some reason they seemed to ring true. She had all of Freya's memories, but she was not Freya. All of the dragon knight's despair at originally not being remembered by Fratley, amplified a thousand times by the fact that someone else was living her life, a life she was not entitled to. That was what had started this whole crazy crusade, she wanted Fratley, and she wanted to take her place back in the eyes of her people. Tiamat had called this a futile gesture, that she could not be something she was not. But after treating her more kindly, Tiamat had offered to give her a purpose. A cause to rally behind, a new life, one all of her own. And something about Tiamat's stature gave credit to those words. Or... it could have been the drugs. At every mealtime, she was given something mixed into her water. It made her feel incredible - strong, where once before she felt weak. Appreciated, where she had been looked down upon as a terrorist. Needed. It was a very, VERY good feeling. She wanted to be needed. She NEEDED to be needed. She needed that feeling Tiamat was giving her, more than anything. That had been why she had agreed to start calling her Mistress. Tiamat was to be her master, giving her a new purpose. It was to her great surprise, then, as she awoke, that Tiamat was not the one standing there, but Sir Fratley.

Freya's memories came rushing back into Shannon's mind like a tidal wave, making her at once nauseous as every single negative emotion in her stirred at once. Was this a dream? No, his hand was on her cheek. She was certain of it, this was real. Feelings buried under Tiamat's care for her rose to her chest, her heart beating hard. She was disappointed with herself. She still wanted him. Badly. And there was little she could do to deny it. But all she could choke out was "...Fratley...?" like a dazed schoolgirl being asked to prom by her crush. The knight scooped her up in his arms, then moved to drape her over his back, piggyback style. "No words. We're leaving." he said simply to her, trying to keep his voice in check. Despite who she seemed to be, this woman was responsible for misleading his people and causing international incidents. Shannon at once could seem to pick up on the anger in his voice, and fell quiet. Turning his back on the cot, he began to quickly leave the room.

---

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Wve15CMQL6M

Tiamat was winning. All eight ships in the sky besides the Silver Bell had been torn asunder, and even Burmecia's flagship was not in good shape. Hundreds of Dragon Knights pounced, again and again, riding the wind and landing blows that seemed to bounce off of the creature's thick scales - tough as adamantite plating. Freya's Dragon Hair was the only weapon leaving any sort of mark, and even that seemed to be a pittance to this thing. Still, serendipity seemed to be with them, there were no fallen that Freya could see. The wounded were taking shelter in the shadow of the wrecked ships, away from the biting wind. Freya called upon the patron saint of Dragon Knights, Reis Duelar, to bring her own winds forth and heal their wounds, though this was fleeting. Her eyes kept glancing towards the cave the creature had first emerged from, and eventually, a figure passed out of it and was gone, into the nearby woods. Freya sighed with relief and decided she'd put an end to this charade. This entire ploy wasn't just to get Shannon, but to prod Tiamat's capabilities as well, and they seemed well above that of the Burmecian military, even with their lauded fame as dragon hunters. Freya leaped at Tiamat's central head, gritting her teeth and knowing this maneuver was dangerous - five rows of teeth snapped at her, but her quick feet bounced her between the creature's necks and towards the main head's right eye. Drawing her spear back, she drew a crest and then landed hard, jamming the spear into the dragon's vision. The crest drew itself around the eye before exploding with brilliant light - the Dragon's Crest. Freya's strongest technique, saved for this emergency. There was a roar, and Freya found herself bucked, taking rips from each head's flailing, gnashing teeth all the while as the winds briefly died down. She landed roughly, but safely, and gestured to the Dragon Knights. "Fall back, the beast is too strong!" The Silver Bell turned and began its departure, while the host of knights on the ground began to run for the sees as Tiamat struggled to regain her eyesight. Clawing her way along the ground, she began to follow them.

As they reached the coast, numerous metal submarines began to rise out of the depths, each much like the one stolen from Madain Sari. It was rather amazing what you could do with the right connections and a few favors to pull. The Burmecians piled into the subs, and Freya breathed a sigh of relief as they all managed to dive underwater, out of the sky dragon's reach. There were all manner of horrible beasts lurking the depths nowadays, but this fleet could handle that. With a glance to the side, she noticed Fratley, who had placed down the now-quivering Shannon, who seemed to be curled under a blanket. Their prisoner was mumbling something incoherent, but they had succeeded in capturing her. Whoever their anonymous benefactor was, they owed a good deal this day, even if they paid the price of seven airships for this one head, and the intelligence they gained.