Albion's seventy thousand troops departed from various ports aboard a hundred airships — a movement too vast to conceal. Spies from every nation caught wind of it. But with Toristine's ports unbreached, did Albion plan another forced landing? Romalia and Kelmania puzzled over it.
Toristine received word first. Marshal Gramont massed forces along the Gallia-Toristine border, primed for battle.
Gallia's port city of Hirutni halted operations yesterday: all commercial and civilian airship traffic suspended, idlers cleared, troops garrisoned. That afternoon, a fleet of mighty airships bearing seventy thousand soldiers emerged from distant clouds.
Port workers scrambled to clear landing zones. Hirutni's deep-water harbor outside the city served as a natural berth. Albion's ships descended from the sky, decelerating before splashing onto the sea surface. Waves absorbed most of the impact. Ropes tossed from the docks hauled them to the piers, and Albion troops disembarked in steady streams.
A hundred ships required half a day just to moor and assemble the seventy thousand. Distributed across six zones in Hirutni per the five great families and lesser nobles' coalition.
After the six army commanders conferred, they opted to rest tonight and march for the Gallia-Toristine border tomorrow. Each returned to their sector; the Grunt family commander discreetly loosed a carrier pigeon, alerting Toristine's border commander, Marshal Gramont, to the army's movements.
Gramont, upon receipt, ordered his troops to stand easy tonight but prepare for tomorrow's clash.
A strike on Hirutni would inflict massive enemy losses. Yet it lay in Gallia — continent's mightiest power. Toristine dared not provoke them. Gramont felt regret, mingled with fury at Gallia's port lease enabling Albion's passage. Without Gallia's meddling, the Toristine-Albion war might have ended.
Second day post-landing: after breakfast, around nine a.m., Albion marched. Each force left five hundred to hold the port; the rest advanced northwest toward Toristine.
Hirutni lay but half a day's trek from the Gallia-Toristine frontier. Albion halted in the wild for noon rations, reaching the border by three p.m.
Gallia needed no border defenses against Toristine; none existed. Toristine, wary of the giant, fortified with three cities: from northwest to southeast, Tony, Toth, and Tori. Gramont had scraped together thirty thousand from southeastern locals and nobles — twenty thousand under his direct command.
He stationed ten thousand at Toth; five thousand each at Tony and Tori.
At the frontier, Albion's six commanders huddled to plan the assault.
"Seventy thousand strong — Toristine won't expect a Gallia route. Concentrate on one city, breach it, then pour into the interior," House's commander urged.
"Three cities guard the line. We outnumber them — split into three, take one each, then drive deep. Conquerors claim the spoils," argued the lesser nobles' coalition commander.
House frowned, glancing at Grunt and Megan.
"Your thoughts?"
Grunt's commander: "Splitting works — avoids fights over loot. Grunts and Megans combine for Tony."
He eyed Megan's commander: "Agreed?"
Megan nodded: "Yes — viable."
"You two?" House turned to Mani and Pace.
Mani and Pace fielded three thousand apiece. United, how could they rival the thirty-to-twenty thousand Houses-Grunts-Megans bloc for gains? "We favor splitting," both said.
House swallowed rage, voice icy: "Fine. Houses take Toth alone — objections?"
Mani, Pace, and lesser nobles conferred: "Then we coalition for Tori." Two families meant disadvantage at six thousand; nobles' numbers were vast but fractious — fairer odds.
Commanders dispersed, directing forces: two thousand each from Grunts and Megans to Tony; thirty thousand Houses west to Toth; six thousand Mani-Pace-nobles coalition to Tori.
Grunt-Megan allies marched half a day, reaching Tony by evening. The city's five thousand defenders slammed gates, nocked arrows, loosed pigeons — bracing for desperate defense, alerting Gramont at Toth.
Megan's commander scouted: defenders numbered barely five thousand. He itched to storm.
Grunt restrained: "Marched all day — troops weary. Rest tonight, assault tomorrow."
Megan pondered, then concurred.
Thus twenty thousand camped outside Tony; five thousand stood night watch against potential sorties.
Tony's five thousand dared no aggression — fortune enough the foe held back.
Meanwhile, Houses bivouacked in the wild, half a day from Toth.
The six thousand disparate Albion contingents lay over a day from Tori.
At Toth, Marshal Gramont received two missives: one from Tony, decrying inability to halt twenty-to-thirty thousand foes; the other from Grunt command, detailing the split, vowing to drag the siege — preventing Megan from swift victory at Tony — allowing Gramont to focus on pinning the other two prongs.
Armed with enemy dispositions, Gramont pondered: no aid to Tony or Tori. First, crush Houses' thirty thousand.
Tony: trust Grunt command. He penned orders back: preserve forces; Grunt is ally — stage a "fake war" in cooperation.
Tori: hold to the death, heedless of losses. Foes from myriad factions — swarming in wind or deadlock spells doom; fractured, they'd falter at forced assault. Six thousand couldn't muster full six.
Gramont hand-wrote to Tori's garrison: thirty thousand foes arrive in a day — strike ruthlessly in the first clash.
Come, Houses' enemies, Gramont thought, anticipation rising as he retired.