The land-dreadnought, *Iron Serpent*, shuddered with a low, resonant growl as another salvo of 'Storm-Breaker' munitions ripped through the air. Commander Boran, a blocky man with eyes like polished obsidian, watched through the main viewscreen. Plumes of blackened discharge blossomed against the ancient, shimmering azure dome shielding the mountain redoubt. Each detonation gnawed at the defense, causing it to ripple like disturbed water. “Report, Overseer Jorek,” Boran’s voice was a gravelly monotone, devoid of inflection. He folded his thick arms across his chest, the heavy wool of his uniform straining. Jorek, a gaunt technician whose fingers danced across a holographic display, didn’t look up. “Structural integrity at sixty-three percent, Commander. Power fluctuations are increasing. Sustained bombardment should see a full collapse within the next forty-five minutes, standard deviation of seven. Their shield web is failing.” Boran nodded, a minuscule tilt of his chin. Forty-five minutes. Acceptable. Kestar’s magic was a stubborn, primitive thing, but it was just that: primitive. His Empire’s hyper-accelerated kinetic weaponry, powered by harnessed thermic reactors, was an argument of iron against their arcane whispers. Soon, the mountain redoubt, the very heart of Taran’s magical rot, would be nothing but a memory and a quarry for vital Arcstone. On the ramparts, high above the swirling dust and ceaseless thunder, Orkhan stood alone. The wind tugged at the unfamiliar, flowing robes that now draped his frame, but his stance remained steady. He registered neither the mountain chill nor the tremor in the stone beneath his boots. His focus narrowed entirely to the invisible weave of force permeating the world, ignoring the trembling lines of guardsmen behind the battlements. When he first awoke in this body, it had been a vague, unsettling awareness, like a hum beneath the skin. Now, as the assault intensified, the ambient charge of this realm resolved into a clearer, more defined phenomenon. It was an observable, quantifiable field reacting to the kinetic strike of Boran’s ordnance, stretching and thinning like a membrane. The field interacted with the defensive web in predictable lines. His old training broke it down cleanly: a system. Input: Imperial ordnance. Output: Shield degradation. Variables: localized density, incoming vectors, material resistance of the supporting matrix. He spotted the structural fault lines, the points where the matrix frayed, the exact geometric angle generating maximum shear. Izel, her face grim beneath the crest of her helm, stood a respectful distance behind him. She watched his impassive profile, her hand resting on the hilt of her ceremonial blade. The Regent was silent, as always, but his presence was a bulwark against despair. The sentries murmured prayers, keeping watch on the silent, unmoving figure who seemed wholly unbothered by the tempest. “Integrity critical!” Jorek’s voice, now tinged with triumph, echoed across the *Iron Serpent*’s command deck. “Defense at twelve percent! Expect total collapse in…” he paused, grinning. “Ten seconds. Nine. Eight.” Boran permitted himself a rare, thin smile. The cost of this operation had been immense, the political maneuvering a constant drain. But the eradication of Kestar, the symbolic heart of magic on Taran, would be a triumph. A demonstration of imperial supremacy. The Emperor himself would commend this victory. On the stone ramparts, Orkhan felt the warding web shudder one final time. He mapped the exact second of its collapse, calculating where the next volley of heavy rounds would punch through. His duty was simple: Aybik’s safety. This immediate threat required an immediate, decisive countermeasure. He raised his right hand, slowly, deliberately. It was not a grand gesture. There was no surge of power, no arcane incantation. To him, it was merely an adjustment. He mapped the trajectory of every incoming projectile, tracking the displacement through the surrounding field. He could sense the intricate dance of forces, the vectors of their flight. It was merely a matter of *re-routing* them. “Three! Two! One!” Jorek roared, his face alight. “Shield… intact?” His voice died. The grin melted from Boran’s face. On the main viewscreen, the azure barrier still shimmered, unwavering. But the incoming shells, the very projectiles they had just launched, had *stopped*. Not exploded. Not dissipated. They simply… hung in the air, for a fraction of a second, before their trajectory *reversed*. Impossible. Utterly, terrifyingly impossible. Along the battlements, Izel held her breath while the defenders stared down at the plain. The reflected warheads arced directly back toward their origins, accelerating into a lethal rain of iron. Boom. BOOM. *BOOM!* The vanguard's artillery line, a kilometer of meticulously deployed siege pieces, erupted in a cataclysm of their own making. Fire blossomed across the plains, tearing apart armored vehicles, vaporizing the men who manned them. The sound was deafening, a chorus of destruction that shook the very mountains. Boran watched, paralyzed, as the viewscreen showed the impossible. His perfectly calibrated, technologically superior siege engines were being annihilated by their own ordnance. His eyes zoomed in on the high parapets. A distant, silhouetted figure stood there, unmoving, his right hand still slightly raised. The Regent. That impassive, alien entity. “Commander… what in the…” Jorek stammered, his face ashen, pointing a trembling finger at the display. Boran did not answer. His cynical mind scrambled for a rational explanation—some imperial countermeasure he had forgotten, or an exotic local weapon. But there was nothing. No flash, no pulse, no beam. Just… a reversal. A pure, unadulterated act of defiance against physics itself. He grabbed the nearest communication line, his knuckles white against the metal. His voice, usually a steady rumble, was a raw, desperate bellow that cut through the stunned silence of the command deck. “Scramble the Inquisitors! That’s no mountain mage—that’s something else.”

An Argument of Iron