A drake air show is taking place.

As you pass through the gate connecting the Amazonian camp to Deni’s, you could see your Sisters hard at work setting up light defenses in the form of wooden walls and precarious looking watchtowers that sway in the breeze high above the rest of the camp. As a youngster, you were assigned more often than you care to remember to watch duty standing of the tiny platforms assembled from long slender bamboo poles carried all the way from Accor and tied together with twisted rope. Near the center of the camp, you can see your command tent has already been set up, with your pennant flying from the center pole, along with a much more solid looking wooden balcony that gave you a bird’s eye view of the battlefield. Not far from the command tent is your personal tent along with those of the other nobles in your army tucked nice and deep inside the camp where you and your Sisters could not be disturbed. After all, the last thing you or your officers want are a throng of perverted male soldiers listening in or watching you as you relive the unrelenting heat that afflicts your people.

A glance towards the river confirms that not only has the blocked been set up, but your Sisters have also claimed the other side of the river for their own use, most notably the Daughters of Lycaon. Standing in a fierce row outside the large communal troop tent, you can see the Lycaon’s barbaric looking totems. Work is also underway to erect a large wooden wall, made up of thick logs and flying the flag of the Wolf Queen between them and the mercenaries that killed your mother. The wall is as much for privacy as protection. The Daughters of Lycaon are a secretive lot, even to the rest of the inhabitants of Accor.

As you watch the Daughters of Lycaon building their wall you noticed a few of their leaders looking up at the sky. You follow their eyes up to the drakes flying overhead. At first, you take it for just another patrol, after all, it was unlikely that they would be risking the drakes for anything too close to the city while the wires were up. As you continue watching though a few of the Riders doing summersaults and barrel rolls and near vertical dives that swoop dangerously close to the spectators before climbing back to the skies above. Each time these antics are followed by the playful cheers of your troops. The Riders are showing off, no doubt hoping to catch the eye of one or more of the beautiful amazons below.

You smirk and roll your eyes at the display only to feel a strong gust of wind at your back. You braced yourself just in time as a large drake with dark red scales and blood red wings flies overhead. As your cape and hair whip around wildly, you look up and smile when you see Rafail waving to you from its back.

“Beautiful Queen of the Amazons!” he calls out to you, “My wings and I have come to sweep the skies above you while your lovely and mighty Valkyries prepare to avenge your fallen Sisters.”

“You and your drakes are more than welcome Rider!” you call back to him, “Prove yourselves and you will have earned your place in our beds.”

Your Sisters' cheers confirming their excitement to see the Rider’s overhead. However, as the aerial display continues, the Daughters of Lycaon were noticeably absent from the cheers. Some were even readying their bows and aiming them at the drakes. Unsurprisingly your announcement gets the attention of one of the Lycaon leaders. A heavily tattooed shaman approaches you with a deep scowl on her brow.

Like most of the Daughters of Lycaon, she was a native Accorian with dark skin and long, straight, raven hair but the black and red tattoos on her face and shoulders and wolf-tooth necklace gives her a fierce barbaric look. Like her jungle Sisters, she wears a mix of treated leather and stylized plates of armor, though it can barely be considered armor as it leaves a lot of her sinewy body exposed. Like the rest of your Amazons, the Daughters of Lycaon are equipped for naval combat though instead of making their armor easy to remove they just limit it to almost no weight. Although the attire provides great freedom of movement, they are effectively wearing little more than bras and short flaps of leather into battle.

Lycaon warriors rely on their agility as their fighting style differs from the main body of warriors. While the Daughters of Aries usually move in shield first and in highly disciplined formations, the Daughters of Lycaon charge their enemies in loose waves, shrieking and howling while flicking their tongues on the roof of their mouths. The effect is truly intimidating even for seasoned troops and if fear doesn't drive back their opponents, they are known to leap over shield walls and fall on the surprised troops from behind.

As the tall woman stands before you, she glares down at you like a mother would a disobedient child. “Your Highness,” she snarls bitterly, “These men are trespassing and are most certainly spying on our activities, and yet you encourage their presence here?!”

You glare back at her refusing to let her bully you, “I do at that, Kyra. Unless you are suggesting that we stave our people of children.”

“We don’t need men!” she snaps, “Why should we let these moronic, drunken, pigs sully our blessed bodies when we can just take their daughters and wives by **** and convert them!”

You were about to respond when another Daughter of Lycaon approaches, although this one you are actually pleased to see. It was Orithyia, the third member of your triad. She is over a dozen years older than you and Thea and was given the responsibility of training the two of you, which she does with a strict determination. Her focus is not surprising as she lost her last triad in the Battle of Elaina and wants to make sure she won’t lose two more. Orithyia carries two axes on her hips and was dressed in the same manner as Kyra but with less décor. Her hair is far shorter than most Amazons, almost as short as a man’s, and had two hawk feathers tied to the left side of her face in remembrance of her lost sisters.

As Orithyia stands beside you she crosses her arms and looks up at the shaman with a stern, almost emotionless face. “Kyra,” she starts, “If we go around claiming the women of the mainland cities, then wouldn’t their men retaliate against up in kind? Remember we are just one island while the lands of men are almost endless.”

“Know your place Sister.” Kyra sneers. “You are speaking to a Shaman of Lycaon.”

“And you are speaking to the Queen of the Amazons,” Orithyia responds easily not giving any ground, “Does our order no longer follow her leadership?”

Kyra’s nostrils flare before redirecting her gaze at you, “High Priestess Calisto will not be pleased to see men so close to our camp when she arrives.”

“Which will not happen until the end of the week,” you reply in a strict tone, “And when she does, I’ll be sure to tell her the same thing I told you. As long as they are not causing any problems they can stay. Not only are they not doing that but they are providing us with air cover which we sorely need. If you are so concerned about them spying on one your rituals, then I suggest you turn your walls into a hut. Now show your Queen the proper respect.”

She stares at you for five or six heartbeats before lowering her head in a resentful bow. She then turns away from you with enough **** to flip her fur cape behind her back and storms off.

You shake your head sadly before turning to Orithyia, “Thank you for standing by me, Orithyia.”

“The training grounds should be ready by tomorrow,” Orithyia brushes off your words, “I recommend that your Majesty and Thea meet me there first thing in the morning. After you have roused Thea from whatever slumber she is in that is.”

You let out a soft sigh, “You know, Orithyia, you could help wake her if you joined us in our tent.”

Orithyia arches her brow, “Is that an order, my Queen?”

“No, and it won’t ever be, but it is an open invitation.”

Before you can say anything else Orithyia give you a polite bow, “In that case, I respectfully decline. Now if you excuse me, I must prepare for the ****.”