The streets were a buzz with the stomping echoes of soldier boots.

Women, children and guards crowded the streets to watch the march.

This was Jupiter City, the Capital of the Kingdom, a place with an overall population of about fifty thousand.

Only two hundred of those individuals were Platinum Class, and yet of that number a full half had been gathered at the head of this army.

Aside from these elites, these men and women standing just beneath the crown, there were enough Gold Class, Silver Class and Bronze Class soldiers to make a force of twenty thousand.

Such a massive army boasted twice the number of the average Gold Class City’s whole population, yet this alone was only the start of their response.

The threat of Nidhogg was not to be taken lightly, a mere twenty thousand men weren’t going to make any kind of difference.

Thus the Prince advanced, his boots clapped against the trodden paths outside the city walls, he raised his arm as if to conjure something.

His sleeve unfurled and transformed into a winged creature, a golden bird that took flight a moment later.

When that hawk reached the peak of its ascent, it wrapped itself tight in its wings and erupted.

Countless feathers fell in the wind, yet more golden birds were promptly born from each and every one.

Those countless birds then scattered swiftly into a myriad of directions.

They appeared like doves set free from a cage as they carried their creator’s message to every settlement on the eastern side of the continent.

The Prince then closed his eyes as the sounds of the march stormed past his ears.

He could hear it all, the intoxicating echoes of war.

The fury, the fervour, the drumbeat of armoured boots stomping down the beaten path.

Yet amid all this, the sound that thundered most in his ears was a pair of gentle footsteps too light to be heard by the human ear.

He opened his eyes to behold her, his bride who stood before him.

Her shoulders were clad in a shroud of azure, her veiled hair waved in the breeze.

Their baby in her arms slumbered peacefully with a body so very tiny.

“Have you come to see me off?” He said, but the woman did not respond.

The silence was unbearable.

The Prince looked upon his child, Regis, with a sombre gaze.

She too did the same.

Sibyl found herself at a loss of what to do now that the banner of war had been raised high.

“Jupiter’s Generals were meant to be four,” She muttered under her breath, “I know it wasn’t meant to be me, but my brother instead.

I haven’t got Lord Avance’s power, nor can I boast, as Lord Aegis does, that I will never lose in a battle of defence, and I cannot save lives through medicine and means like Lord Mortuus, am I truly not worthy to be counted among their number?

Have I not the right to stand beside you, as they are bidden to?

Tell me, husband? Am I not just a prop?” The Prince didn't speak.

The answer was hard to offer her, even if his meaning was anything but cruel.

This woman was no slouch, everyone knew it plainly, but still he shook his head to her on this day.

He found the words to say.

“Look in your arms."

Sibyl did as he asked, she looked upon little Regis, this tiny baby in her arms, and was so absorbed in this sight, so focused upon this tiny and vulnerable creature in her arms, that she didn’t even notice her husband reach over to pat her on the shoulder.

She closed her eyes as he held her close and then he kissed her on her crown.

“Forgive me,” She said, “I know...I know that I’m rambling, Erus.”

“What are you apologizing for?” Said the Prince with a cheerful chuckle, “You may not be the equal of those men in war, it's true, but when it comes to this? I can leave our child in your care readily, Sibyl, I can trust that you more than anyone will protect him from harm.”

“Cop out,” Sibyl said, shaking her head with a sneer, “Can I not entrust him to a nanny, if only for a little while?”

She muttered those words only half serious, and the Prince just smiled without showing his emotions.

He knew his woman well, she would in no way ever think of leaving their son to another, indeed the thought only occurred even briefly because right now she was equally frightened of losing her husband.

She worried that he could perish somewhere far away where she could do nothing but hear of the news as much as half a year later.

The Prince then peered towards the palace where his grandfather watched from the walls on high.

He cast a frown upon the man that could chill even a soldier’s blood to ice.

“Someday, together, you and I shall walk past the gates of Valhalla hand in hand, but today is not that day. I promise, I’ll not die without you by my side.”

Sibyl couldn’t find the words to stop him, she knew he had to go.

From her earliest days, she knew that this was the way of the world.

He was a Prince, he had his duty to his country, and so too did she have a duty to its heir.

“Those words, you’d best keep them,” That was all she could do, all she could say to him, and then she let him go.

The Prince cast a smile upon her, then the bells rang out and he had to turn away.

He waved her goodbye and joined the march.

For so many of them this was the first time, the first real war, the first time a wife had seen off her husband with no idea whether or not he’d ever return alive.

Sibyl made a vow to herself then, as she looked down upon the sleeping baby in her arms: Come men or gods, Sovereigns, invaders, Dragons and other monsters, nothing and no one would ever harm this child, her child, for as long as she drew breath.

This was no half-hearted devotion, but a mother's love, a sentiment that was, without irony, the strongest that could exist across all of humanity...