Headed by a Snake

When people think of a Sapphire Tower Witch, they think of the girl in the posters.

Teenage girl. Big hat. Flying on a broomstick. Raining down starshine and rainbows.

That was essentially... Cortlyn's Iota Squad.

Lots of other flights fit that model, too.

But there was only so much a Witch could do by herself.

Magical constructs as vehicles for wartime combat was not a concept.

The Sapphire Tower put its own magical spin on it, though-- which was not something that was common knowledge.

From training and flight time to construct customization, optimization, and fine-tuning-- not to mention the scores of genius arcano-techs involved with each and every war machine, the finest Divine Armor pilots in the Realm belonged to the Sapphire Tower.

Or, to be more specific...

--they were the Ace Pilots of Alpha Squad.

Cortlyn sighed as she descended toward their camp.

They also had the reputation of being the most stuck-up group of girls in the whole of the Eastern States.

It was hard to hide your magical superiority when you could fly like a harpy, punch like a giant, and crap out lightning bolts like a Beithir... all while wearing five tonze of Arcanite.

Cortlyn didn't land amidst a bunch of arrogant, insufferable, warrior women, though...

"Greetings, Sister," saluted a stocky, silver-skinned Witch. "Junior Witch Meteora Amberflask, Alpha Squad, reporting."

The first thing that Cortlyn noticed was that Amberflask wasn't wearing her uniform hat.

But... the reason for that was probably that her eyes and forehead were tightly bound by strips of leather.

"H-hello," Cortlyn said as she bowed out of habit. "Cortlyn. Iota Squad. We're the same rank, so first names should be fine, right? What happened here?"

There were signs of a battle taking place in the area, craters and scorch-marks and countless wood-and-metal wreckages.

There was also a huge freshly dug pile of dirt that Cortlyn didn't want to think about...

Thirteen sets of Tower Divine Armors stood or knelt in a half-circle around her and Meteora-- and they all looked to be in good repair.

Their pilots, however... each of them, aside from Meteora, was sitting around or lying immobile.

One younger-looking girl was crying, hugging her knees, while two other girls were trying to comfort her.

She was the girl from the poster.

Meteora was the only Witch that seemed to be in decent condition... though being blinded in both eyes was not a condition anywhere close to decent.

"Don't mind me, humie," Meteora waved. "I'm wrapped up because the inside of my head's banging away like a newly discovered mine. But to answer your question: y'know how the elders always say there's only so much you can polish pig iron?"

"Sorry? Can't relate."

"..."

"..."

"...Anyroad, the Commander's a piece of work," Meteora grinned unabashedly. "He asked us to do some unbelievable things-- things you'd ask for if we had three times as many of us!"

"And you did them," Cortlyn said quietly.

"Meh. I'm not gonna lose any sleep over it," Meteora shrugged. "But me and the rest of Alpha Squad-- we're all dangerously low on mana."

Cortlyn nervously chewed on her lips. That *might* have been good news?

"So the distress signal... *wasn't* because you guys are in trouble?"

"I err... I don't really know why we sent a distress signal," Meteora admitted. "In fact-- the only reason you're talkin' to me instead of someone more senior is uh... I'm the only one still standing."

Cortlyn took another cursory glance around, "I uh... I can see that."

"Must be nice," Meteora chuckled as she tightened the straps on her leather blindfold.

"S-sorry."

"Y'know, even if a whole company of baddies came along," Meteora added, "I don't think we'd lose-- not as long as the Commander was with us. And that's even if the lot of them came wearing lizard suits."

Cortlyn took a long look at her surroundings, trying to count up just how many Drake Armors there were amongst the wrecks.

...She couldn't get an accurate count, but there were definitely more than three times the girls in Alpha Squad.

"Y-yeah, I know the feeling," Cortlyn said. "I worked with him for a little bit."

She absentmindedly brought her hand up to her reddening cheeks. She had said some embarrassing things in his presence.

Meteora turned suddenly, "Eh? Which squad did you say you were from?"

"Err... Iota s--"

"Iota Squad!!" Meteora laughed, "That's RIGHT! Ahhhh! Seeing you guys zoom around at thrice our speed drove my Squad Leader absoLUTELY mad! You should've seen how red her stupid, pointy ears got!"

The shorter Witch crossed her thick arms, nodding in satisfaction, "There's something about... that guy's aura, I think. This'll sound like m'feet are off the ground, but there w's just something about the way he says things, 'yknow? Like-- it really got me in'chune with my armor like never before."

"Yeah... I get it," Cortlyn nodded.

"Ahaha! Great to hear, great to hear~" Meteora nodded, "How's the rest of yer squad, then? They flyin' about, still lookin' around?"

"It's... it's just me, haha," Cortlyn admitted shyly. "Actually... as far as I know, I'm the only one from Iota Squad to have woken up."

Meteora's laughter stopped abruptly.

She shifted her weight uneasily, then put her thick hands together... "Sorry, could you say that again? Grew up in the mines... I barely passed m'hearing test."

Cortlyn folded her hands, placing her fingers in front of her mouth.

"Look, Meteora, I... dunno how to tell you this--"

"Quick and concise'll do it," Meteora suggested.

"R-right. Well... Last I checked, everyone in Iota Squad that came back is... currently comatose. Mana exhaustion, haha... not including me, anyroad."

"Oh... Ohhhh~" Meteora said as she placed her hands on her hips, "That... is... horrible news. Say, Cortlyn... I'm not... feeling a lot of movement from the girls behind me?"

"Yyyyeah..." Cortlyn said, sucking air through her teeth. "Looks like the three... just passed out."

Meteora made a monotone hum before rubbing the back of her head.

"Hmmm... Now, I'm no genius, but it sounds like Alpha Squad's gonna need a medical evac, huh?"

"President Bella should be arriving soon," Cortlyn replied, "I'll contact callsign Promethea right after this to give 'em an update."

"That'll do," Meteora nodded. "I'm off, then, to check on the others-- might pass out too, who knows?"

"One more thing," Cortlyn said as she held her hand out... which was yet another automatic gesture. "Where's the Commander?"

"Oh? He's been in the temple for over a bell, now-- but don't go in there."

"What?" Cortlyn frowned, "Why not?"

"Eh?" Meteora tilted her head, "I dunno. We were ordered not to follow-- an' our Squad Leader passed out before she could contest it."

Cortlyn pursed her lips... "Well... I wasn't given that order."

"Hah! That's true," Meteora chuckled. "Go on in, then-- and try not to die."

...

⟬ A few minutes later... ⟭

Tycondrius sensed someone rounding the corner, approaching the main hall.

Their steps were slow... almost solemn.

He could hear their frenzied heartbeat, the shortness of their breath.

The child's fear was unwarranted.

No enemies remained in the blasphemous temple.

--none living.

Tycon recognized the mana signature as one of Bella's Witches.

That was promising, as he had a need for a Mage with the ⌈Speak with Dead⌋ Spell.

However... earlier, he had ordered Alpha Squad not to interfere with the happenings within the lizard temple.

The Witchling that dared disobey a direct command would see blood for their transgression.

--not too much blood, though.

Enough had been spilled throughout the sun.

"C-commander?" a voice squeaked, "Are... are you th-- AIIEEEEEEEEE!!!!"

The shrill scream of absolute terror annoyed Tycon to no end.

However, he did... understand the logic behind it.

The carnage in the lizard temple's main hall was the result of justified violence. Without context, though... it appeared as exorbitant butchery.

The owner of the frantic screams was a Witchling he knew as Caitlyn.

Tycon quickly re-assumed his human form, (it was more *personable* for human interaction,) and stepped into view.

"Commander!" Caitlyn screamed.

She rushed forward, her arms wide.

Tycon quickly discarded a blood-covered glove and wrapped his palm around the young Witch's face, keeping her at bay.

"My apologies, child. My clothes are a mess. You understand."

"C-can't bweathe."

...Tycon released his grip.

The Witch took a step back, looking around and blinking several times, "Wh-where was it? I just... I thought I saw..."

"Miss Caitlyn."

"Huge... golden... eyes," she cried.

"Pristine ivory-scaled ridges, sleek and majestic form," Tycon nodded. "I understand your awe and admiration, but Caitlyn... why are you here?"

"I... I was worried," she muttered. "I thought-- I heard... Alpha Squad, they-- a distress..."

"Breeeeathe, child."

Tycon led the young Witch to a stone bench-- the most intact piece of furniture in the main hall. It took her several moments to recover.

But then she started to cry.

Tycon tried not to mind it. Women cried in his presence.

It happened. Often. He could neither prevent it nor put an end to it.

"You're bleeding," Caitlyn whispered.

It also seemed that, slowly, her eyes were growing accustomed to the darkness.

Tycon pursed his lips. He wanted to guide Caitlyn out of the temple's main hall sooner, rather than later.

What he had done in the lizard temple was not something he wanted the Witchling to see in full.

",