War
Forge Era, Year Eighteen. Jarek's boots hit the deck of Crestspire's landing bay, fresh from a shuttle ride across Crestfall's steel veins to Vantablack Spire—a jagged peak piercing the system's heart. Above, storm clouds roiled, thunder growling like a caged beast. He tilted his steel head, optics narrowing. "Wind's turning," he rasped, voice thick with a flicker of dread. A Rib guard loomed beside him—shield massive, circuits humming—and piped up, flat as ever. "Lord Jarek, rain in thirteen minutes, twenty-three seconds—twenty-minute span, 103 millimeters, wind at twelve klicks per hour." Jarek's jaw clenched, irritation sparking. "Not that, you tin lump," he snapped, cutting it off.
The Rib blinked, optics whirring as it tapped Crestfall's grid. "Ravka Zone, 500 klicks out—storm in three—" "Shut it!" Jarek barked, voice a whipcrack. "War's brewing, not puddles." The Rib froze, shield dipping. "No conflict logged in Steelborn space…" it mumbled, lost. Jarek glared, half-exasperated, half-amused. These Ribs could unravel spacetime math but choke on a figure of speech. "Guard, don't think," he growled, turning away. The air pressed down—heavy, electric, a warning.
Trade lanes had gone quiet—merchant rigs dodging Crestfall's docks, thinning out week by week. Jarek's circuits buzzed, suspicion coiling. "Tau," he hissed, voice low and venomous. They'd stalled their promises—ore half-paid, a galaxy "lost" in excuses. Then it came: a Tau broadcast screeched across comms, shrill and accusing. "Your Elephant Fleet stole our kin!" a Tau voice wailed, raw with fake tears. "Hand them over—beg forgiveness—or war!" Jarek's optics flared, a harsh laugh ripping free. "Stole kids? Here?" He'd scoured every inch—no Tau spawn, not a trace. It was a sham, a spark for their war torch.
The Tau families' grief rang true, though—odd. "Someone nabbed 'em," Jarek muttered, voice icy. "Not us." Truth didn't matter—the Tau wanted blood. Lao Jun, their high chief, roared the order, and the Eastern Strike Force rose: 10,000 ships, 200 million souls, split into three fleets. "This Steelborn fool's blind—talks big, fights small," a Tau officer sneered over cracked comms. "Ten thousand ships'll grind him to dust!" Jarek's reply was steel-edged, booming from Crestspire: "We don't kneel—not for our deeds, not for your lies. Want a fight? Step up." His voice thundered, defiance carved deep. No surrender—ancestral fire flickered in his core: no tribute, no retreat, the lord holds the gate.
The Tau didn't blink. Warp rifts tore open near Crestfall, 3,000 ships bursting through like a plague. Their target: Ashreach, the system's battered outer rock. Six years ago, it had burned under Pale Crest guns; now, Tau steel loomed. "Hit 'em," Jarek growled, holo-maps blazing in Crestspire. But the Tau faltered—railgun barrages slammed Ashreach's defenses, only to spark uselessly against Void Shields. "Shields?!" a Tau captain yelped, voice cracking with shock. "Like the orc scrap!" They'd seen it, misjudged it again. Jarek's lip curled, optics glinting. "Tougher than your toys, huh?"
No way through—they dropped boots. Fire Clan troops—Tau's hardiest breed—hit Ashreach's dirt, pulse carbines hot, clad in sleek armor: nanocrystal shells over kinetic foam, shrugging off hits. Beside them, Vexar—wiry, unarmored Xenos—darted like knives, claws flashing for close kills. "Fire Clan shoots, Vexar cuts—unstoppable," a Tau officer bragged, voice thick with pride. Mini-drones swarmed—tanks, scouts, bombers—dotting the battlefield. "No one's matched us," he crowed. They'd never lost a ground game. Until now.
Jarek paced Crestspire, Namu's 10-billion-strong steel flood fueling his calm. The Elephant Fleet's return—fifty of a hundred ships, hulls scarred—barely dented his mood. "Tau bought the ruse," he rasped, a dark thrill in his tone. They'd drooled over Pale Crest junk, blind to Living Steel, Riftgates, phase tech sparking in Redstone's labs. "Three years to dust us?" he laughed, voice raw. "Try three weeks." Tau fleets massed near Crestfall—10,000 strong, a storm brewing. Jarek's steel heart hummed. "Come and get it," he growled, ready to break them.