**Captain James Nolan's Log, Supplemental**
**Discovery Command Center recording**
**37 days after Rothgard's Fall**
Decisions made among the stars echo across worlds.
The command center conference room aboard Discovery was bathed in the soft blue glow of the large, curved screen and the central holographic table. The Albion and Dwarven delegations sat in tense silence, the weight of Nolan's words still hanging in the air. Satellite feeds showed the second wave of the Draco Imperia fleet—hundreds of black-sailed ships cutting across the eastern ocean like a tide of darkness, their decks crowded with troops and the silhouettes of greater dragons.
Kitsune Vulpine's nine tails lay still, her golden-orange eyes fixed on the moving images. Brynna Stonevein's expression was grave, her sharp mind clearly calculating the cost. Lord Alister Greymoor sat rigid, diplomatic composure masking his concern. Durin Fireforge leaned forward, fingers drumming on the table as if trying to feel the invisible forces Nolan had described. Grim Stonefist sat like carved stone, his gruff features locked in deep thought.
Grim broke the heavy silence first, his gruff voice cutting through the room like a hammer on steel. "You speak of striking the fleet, Captain. What is your plan? We would hear it plainly before we commit the honor of Helmsland." Nolan met the dwarf's gaze steadily. "Primary targets are the greater dragons and the troop transports. Removing the dragons should demoralize the fleet and hopefully force them to abort their sail and return to the Atlantian Islands. Phase Two will involve precision strikes against Imperial naval infrastructure on the islands and shipyards on the eastern continent over the course of a week, using our Switchblade fighters for sorties and orbital strikes from Discovery's main rail cannons."
Kitsune's expression tightened, her regal poise sharpening into quiet authority. "The troop transports must not be targeted. The Imperia fills those ships with war slaves—captives from conquered territories used as disposable fodder. In this case, they are largely innocent Atlantian citizens pressed into service against their will." A.L.I. interjected smoothly, her voice precise and calm. "A strategy reminiscent of ancient Roman conquest and integration tactics—using subjugated populations as expendable forces while integrating survivors into their empire." Nolan nodded, accepting the correction without hesitation. "Understood. We will adjust the plan accordingly."
Grim leaned forward, his gruff tone demanding clarity. "How precise can your strikes be? We will not trade one slaughter for another." A.L.I. answered calmly. "Pinpoint precise. Our rail cannons and fighter munitions can target individual ships or even specific sections of a vessel with minimal collateral damage if required."
The room quieted as the delegations absorbed the modified plan. Brynna spoke first, her measured voice carrying the weight of long council experience. "It is a heavy choice, but a necessary one. The Imperia leaves no room for mercy. Striking the dragons and infrastructure while sparing the transports shows both strength and restraint." Kitsune's tails flicked once in agreement. "We stand with you, Captain. The Four Kingdoms have suffered enough under the black sails. End this threat." Nolan gave a single decisive nod. "Then the decision is made." He turned to A.L.I. "Order immediate strikes on the greater dragons. Fire when ready."
The large screen shifted to real-time orbital feeds. Tension thickened in the room as the delegations leaned forward, eyes locked on the images. Discovery's rail cannons aligned with cold precision. A low, building hum vibrated through the deck plates beneath their boots. Then, without warning, brilliant streaks of hypersonic tungsten rods lanced downward from orbit like spears thrown by the gods themselves. The rods struck the greater dragons with cataclysmic kinetic force, each impact erupting into a blinding sphere of plasma and superheated air that swallowed the massive beasts whole. One greater dragon simply vanished in a fireball that bloomed outward, shattering nearby ships' masts and hurling debris across the fleet. Another was thrown sideways by the shockwave, its wings torn apart mid-roar before a second rod finished it in a rolling explosion of fire and blood. The black fleet reeled in chaos—sails ripping, decks splintering, crews screaming as the sky rained death from beyond their understanding.
The room was deathly still. Brynna's face paled, her usual composure cracking with raw shock. Grim's fists clenched white on the table, awe and horror warring on his gruff features. Durin stared wide-eyed, whispering, "By the deep forges… one strike and the greatest beasts of legend are gone." Kitsune's tails had gone completely still, her golden-orange eyes reflecting the fiery blooms on the screen. Even Alister's diplomatic mask slipped, revealing the stunned weight of what they had just witnessed.
The black fleet had been bloodied from above, and the war had truly begun.