The 1-15-300 Rule. Any serious frontline force should be composed of one invention-level Divine, fifteen mages, and three hundred soldiers. Losses taken should follow a 0-1-100 split. Casualties inflicted by our forces typically follow a 3-6-1 split (as in, for every 3 combatants the Divine fells, the 15 mages will defeat 15 and the 300 mundane men will kill 1). The strengths of major Divines are too variable to be estimated and should be taken on a case-by-case basis.

Some Divines are amplified by their forces, others amplify their armies. Typically the latter are far less dangerous than the former. There is one exception I will specifically mention: Kassandora, Of War, is not particularly strong individually. When commanding an army, she should be avoided at all costs unless several major Divines are present.

Excerpts from Goddess Fortia, Of Peace’s, War Manual: The Doctrine of Might & Magic. Written before the Great War, but edited during it.

Kassandora’s orchestra slowly started to play as she analysed Fortia’s and Maisara’s approaching armies. A furious violin in her mind, that only she heard, whined as her eyes trailed over the minor Divines and mages in the distance. Fortia was there, it was obviously her. The tallest among them, in golden armour with her thick spear held high. Maisara on the other side, in silver and white. Her unnamed executioner’s axe on her back. They led from the centre, as had been done in the past. In standard box-march formation, Kassandora couldn’t believe they didn’t change a single aspect of their armies from the Great War. From the sheer size of their formations, it’d be some eighty-thousand men. The Pantheon’s White-Gold banners, Fortia’s own Gold and Maisara’s own silver waved in the breeze to the march of feet.

Kassandora’s orchestra added its own drums, quietly beating away to the synchronised march of boot against hard ground.

Nothing about that army’s looks had changed from the last time Kassandora had seen Divine War, so it could be assumed that they would be following Fortia’s Might & Magic Doctrine. The mages serving as glass cannons, the Divines as line-breakers, the mundane as shields for the former two. This is why Kassandora was needed in the world. Other Divines meandered and snapped, minds cracked and tore as they realised their own purposelessness. Kassandora had a purpose. Just as hated executioners removed society’s guilty, she executed stagnation wherever she found it.

A flute added its own tune to the orchestra, quiet, but obviously there.

And Kassandora looked over to her army. Small and outnumbered. Sokolowski’s division had ten thousand men. Eight to one. When the neighbouring divisions arrived, they would be sitting at eight to three. The strings got louder as Kassandora got to work.

She stabbed Joyeuse into the sand and pulled on her blessing. The men who were hers, who had accepted her will to strengthens themselves stopped clapping immediately. A chorus of voices added itself to Kassandora’s orchestra, every man under her command heard it as clearly as she did.

She was a conduit for the ten thousand, a battery of power to store and give and exchange, the fingers wrapped around sword hilts and the spark that set fire to a fuse. Kassandora stood there, in her black armour, her eyes glowing, her hair more vivid as it started to tumble in its own winds. War began to conduct its orchestra.

“Kavaa. Accept me.” Kassandora spoke as a piano started to play a slow tune. Men in the rear were loading the lemur artillery in silence, no one needed to say a word. No need for a ‘next

’ or a ‘ready’ or a ‘loaded’. They all played in War’s orchestra. A ramping series of notes, repetitive and promising crescendo. Kassandora reached out to Kavaa and felt the woman’s mental armour being lifted, the shield lowered, the helmet was taken off. She grabbed hold of Kavaa and heard a little grand cello add itself to her tune, in sync and perfectly adding to the rhythm. And Kassandora conducted the cello as she stood unmoving, the song playing in her head. Kavaa’s blessing of perfect health, and Kassandora’s blessing of her own will, flooded through Kassandora’s army.

Men sped up as Kavaa’s power filled. All in silence, the only sound was of shuffling feet or men loading their rifles. Some had been sent off to unpack ammunition, others were dragging them to the frontlines. The teams manning the sixty Lemur artillery, and the dozen Binturongs that had been sent off to Sokolowski were preparing in silence. Engines started to rumble under the gentle instruments of Kassandora’s music, pistons hissed and stabilizers extended to dig into the sand.

Anassa’s forty sorcerers were here too. And Kassandora had already blessed them back in the HQ. They separated into teams, rose into air as men climbed the watch towers. Barriers were put up as everyone danced in tune to War’s orchestra. Kavaa turned to look through her blessed eyes, and Kassandora gazed through her. She gazed through every pair of eyes, smelled through every nose, heard through every ear, her thoughts worked through every mind in the camp. And she saw Fortia raise her spear and issue the command. If Fer was here, she would have heard what the Goddess said, but all she could do was watch.

Sand started to swirl and make a wall, winds howled and clouds formed like a sudden fog. All the elements narrowed to make a barrier above the army. They had already marched in range, it would have been impossible for Fortia not to have heard Kassandora’s army cheer. Kassandora saw through her men.

They were running to the trenches that had been dug. More were working with shovels, digging out small foxholes. Others knelt in the sand pits, more lay down, rifle aimed. Not in range for guns yet, Fortia would no doubt raise a shield. Kassandora sent out a probing attack.

One of the sorcerers, the one she sensed was the fastest, her name was Fleur. She suddenly raced forwards as Kassandora gave another command. A series of drums beat in her mind’s orchestra, and the eighty four artillery fired. Five men, random guards who were stood in odd locations at the camp, turned to look up at the sky. Their strengthened vision followed the shells immediately as Fer stopped a safe distance away. She raised her arms.

A red beam burst from her palms in an instant. Kassandora knew how to command the art, she simply wasn’t capable of doing it herself. It flashed and roared and burned and devoured that shield, or it should have. Kassandora shook her head, she had assumed Anassa’s favourite sorcerers were stronger. Not many to pick from in this time though. The shield stood, a thin layer of sand interwoven by water and air that didn’t even react to Fleur’s attack.

The girl was sent flying before Fortia could command her mages to summon up a counter-attack. A few seconds after she left, the spot she had floated in had lightning strike down on it. Zerus wasn’t about and lightning wasn’t an easy art. So Elassa had sent mages of a higher calibre then. Arcadia’s mobilization was a threat on the horizon though, Kassandora had at least another month before the flying swarms would descend on Kirinyaa. If Fortia was forced to pull back by then…

Well, there was a chance.

The drums in her orchestra sounded again as her watchers saw the first volley impact on the shield. Sokolowski had received the newest shells, assembled here in Kirinyaa, a mixture of fragmentation and napalm. Shards of steel slid and stuck harmlessly against the barrier above that army. Napalm set alight for an instant, it was enveloped in bubbles of air, the oxygen it gorged on was burned up. The jelly put itself out as the water of that rolled out and chucked it to the sides of Fortia’s army.

Kassandora saw it through the eyes of men lying on sand or kneeling behind mounds of stand or standing in trenches reinforced by wooden beams, all watching with binoculars. She would have buried it, not simply thrown it on the ground. That had been a mistake to capitalize on for later.

And Kavaa went off to heal Anassa’s injuries from the fall as Kassandora watched the massive block approach her. If they raised shields like that towards the front, the rifles would be worthless. Kassandora changed her thinking, men still needed to be taught in the art of melee, if only for situations like this. They would need blades too.

The Clerics who had come with Kavaa arranged themselves in front of Kassandora. “We are ready to be led.” The ancient Divines all had worked with Kassandora, maybe they didn’t know the perfect extremities of her blessing, but it wasn’t a secret of this world. So Kassandora had put a little paragraph explaining it into the second page of the manual every soldier got. Men didn’t read a lot, but they should be able to manage two pages at least.

Kassandora’s blessing engulfed them too. It wasn’t Waeh’s forceful commands, it was leadership. Any man could choose to break her blessing at any time. She gave the basic information out, the fact they would follow her orders faster, the strengthening of willpower and the shared senses. The fact that War’s Orchestra was an addictive tune was left out. That part, no one but Arascus knew. Kassandora hadn’t even told him about it, the man had just realised it when he heard the drums play.

The violin picked up as the ranks finished assembling, and then they died down to trumpets gloriously chanting a tune. Rifles were lowered, machines guns dug in. Ammunition boxes handed out. Helicopters lifted off into the skies. They would be vulnerable to magical fire, but hail of lead was a trade off she would take. They had taken Neneria’s suggestion. The guns installed on them were the same that the minotaurs had tested in Arcadia.

Kavaa’s Clerics formed spread out into pairs and separated themselves among the front lines. Battlefield healers. In the Great War, every battle any wound inflicted was a mere temporary debility. Kassandora had never understood why Fortia never deployed them in greater numbers. Now though, they were in the hands of a woman who would squeeze until there wasn’t a drop of power left.

The only two men remained in the opening were Waeh’s corpse lay. Airi, Lia and Rie were still feasting on the body, each one pulling off strands of muscle or tearing through fat or eating away. Fer would be able to regenerate from that damage, Kassandora wasn’t prepared to take any chances chance. The three huge dogs would be allowed to eat until there was only bones of the body. Their handler remained with them, if Fer was here, then Kassandora could work through to get access to the animals, but Fer was not here so someone had to watch over them. Frankly, they were the heroes of today, Of Beasthood simply had to meet these animals.

Sokolowski stood at Kassandora’s side as he made phone calls to check up on the neighbouring divisions. Fifth infantry had set off just now. Sixth was about to, they were loading the final few men into trucks. Over this terrain… Kassandora made as pessimistic a prediction that wasn’t just unreasonable disagreement. Four hours. Probably less, but she only had to hold for four hours.

War’s Orchestra played another chorus, the artillery at the back of the camp fired again. Apocalyptic booms of gun and drum, followed by sweet whistle of shell and flute. Kassandora’s hair scattered into the air as she felt the hopefulness of her men, and then it fell back down as they watched the shells harmlessly explode over the magical barrier of air, sand and water above Fortia’s army of gold and silver. They took another step forwards, men in the front ranks made a shield-wall.

The napalm went out. Caught in puddles of air, thrown off by bubbles of water. The shrapnel was wiped away too. More grey jelly was tossed onto the desert sands. Fortia simply had not realised then, the clearing of the first volley wasn’t a mistake. Fortia simply didn’t see the damage it could do. Kassandora saw though.

Kavaa dropped to her knee over Anassa. “I have you sister.” She said, then caught herself. “I.. that was Kass speaking.” Anassa smirked as she patted her stomach.

“I know.” She said. Kavaa touched Anassa’s cheek as Kassandora silently watched. What did healing feel like? Not being healed, but actually performing the healing? Kavaa merely poured her divine energy into Anassa. It felt like… It felt like cool water in your hands, as if suddenly your fingers were tasting mint. Cold and clinical, there was no love or warmth in it. It was a mere operation Kavaa had done a thousand times before.

Anassa had broken a leg and injured her spine as she landed. Kassandora sighed as Kavaa nervously looked at the Goddess of Sorcery and explained the situation. “You don’t have to excite me that much.” Anassa replied with a stupidly tantalizing smile only she could do. A cello in the orchestra proclaimed its annoyance with a high-pitched note, Kassandora and Kavaa both agreed with it.

“Just heal her.” Anassa was fundamentally delusional. Not in a stupid fashion, but rationally delusional. As a Goddess of Sorcery, she could conjure her imagination into the world. There had been a time where sorcery was much like magic, and then Anassa had appeared to revolutionize that little world and make it into the terrifying realm of magic it existed as nowadays. In a day, sorcerers who were unable to construct a house were suddenly painting drawings into reality. How reality was a canvas, Kassandora could not understand that thought process whatsoever. The basic premise was manageable but she simply came across a block in her process because the mind thought and the body moved. The mind did not move, nor did the body think yet sorcery espoused that.

Kavaa finished healing. The woman made a moan no Goddess should ever make, her cheeks flushed red and she rose from the ground. “I love when you do that.” Kassandora stared blankly through Kavaa’s blank face at the woman.

“Never say that to me again.” Kavaa said coldly. “Ana, you’re actually disgusting.” That cello made a low note to agree with Kavaa. Anassa only smirked, licked her lips and stretched.

“I’m in a good mood.” Anassa said. “But you do not get to speak to me like that.” Kassandora stopped Kavaa from responding. No point in it, everyone in the family already beat Anassa over the head because of how she acted, and yet Anassa was still Anassa.

“Anassa.” Kassandora called out, still stood with her hands over Joyeuse. Attacks would have to be synchronised, the barrier would have to be broken, it was magical, there were obviously lesser Divines among that mass of men, there’d be at least a thousand mages, if not two thousand. And that sort of barrier was nothing new, to mix sand and air and water was standard tactics to make battlefield concrete, barrier like that could be rebuilt in the blink of an eye, timing was everything to breaking through them. Kassandora sighed.

And issuing orders through speech was slow, Anassa was perceptive and fast. Could she crack open the shield? Effortlessly. Could she do it while avoiding magical counter-attack? No doubt. But Fortia knew how to throw her spear, and Fortia would know to pick the moment Anassa gave even an inch of an opening.

Anassa, very simply, would have to be micro-managed. Kassandora called out. “Come here.” Anassa was the only person who Kassandora did not like being in the orchestra. The only person who ever gave her trouble to conduct. Kassandora sighed. But Anassa was Anassa, and even though Kassandora hated her sound, she would not change Anassa for anything else. Anassa was Anassa precisely because she was so argumentative and annoying. “You want to embrace me?” Kassandora did not respond to the subtext of that.

“Accept me sister.” Kassandora replied.

“You kno-“ Kassandora stopped Anassa from finishing whatever she was about to say as she felt the Goddess’ will give way to her. Anassa smiled, opened her mouth and shut it immediately. Kassandora raised a challenging eyebrow at her sister.

“If you say something terrible, I will shut you up.”

“I didn’t think you ha-“ Anassa shut up, she turned and laughed to herself as Kassandora heard her giggle in the orchestra. How was a mystery, it was a realm of delusions, the orchestra played in her mind. But then if anyone knew how to work delusions, Anassa did.

No more words needed to be said. Kassandora’s army merely felt each other as they moved like one giant organism. Anassa silently took a step and blinked from the ground to the air. She blinked again as Kassandora separated the sorcerers more. Kavaa took to the frontlines.

Fortia and Maisara approached, not long now. In range of the artillery. The drums started to pick up. Artillery fired. The violins ripped at their own strings. Men took their time to line up a shot. Percussion shook the world. Shells whistled overheard through the air. Kassandora kept track of them through the watchers in the helicopters. Percussion slammed down again. Anassa blinked from her spot to just above Fortia’s army. Her fingers snapped.

The crescendo was reached. And silence descended as a blast of her energy pushed the shield away. Crimson waves raced through the mixture above Fortia’s men that cast them into a pale shadow. Like a painter’s brush smearing red over a canvas or a roaring sea serpent ploughing through ships. Anassa laughed and a terrible guitar, loud and obnoxious and playing its own dreaded tune joined the fray. The next moment, it all stopped.

Silence.

The bass in War’s Orchestra flared as artillery shells whistled through the opening, that half-second Anassa gave them as mages were reforming the barrier. Smoke and fire and screams and blood. Men torn apart. Anassa blinked back to Kassandora’s own lines before anyone could react.

Kassandora finally managed to pick out Fortia in that chaos. She rallied her men. She waved her spear. Her mages put the fires out. Threw napalm away. Shields went back up. Not the single large barrier but thousands of individual tiny discs. Anassa could break one as easily as a thousand, but one broke in the snap of a finger. There wouldn’t be time to hover over the army and keep snapping. A wave of sand suddenly erupted across the sand, it knocked Fortia’s men over and carved out a trench across the desert.

Fortia’s spear ploughed through the air. A beam of crimson caught it from the heavens. The spear did not stop, but the trajectory changed and it slammed into the ground with a grand wave of sand. If Anassa was not here, then that spear would gone through Kassandora’s chest.

Kassandora had forgotten exactly how strong Fortia was.

Waeh was dead, but she’d rather fight Waeh twice over than one of Fortia.

It would be a hard battle.

Fortia’s Might & Magic Doctrine relies too heavily on ancient Champion-Doctrine. I was correct back then, as were many who now I call family, that Champion-Doctrine would eventually come to a close as the great heroes of the past died, defeated by battle’s swift close or by time’s creeping crawl.

I propose something new entirely. To relegate Divinity to the supporting role entirely, to have them serve as mere shock troopers and logisticians. Wars are fundamentally mortal affairs. Mortals should be the ones to wage them. This radical philosophy has served three decades in global warfare now, its success is undisputable. To have scored victories against Divine Leona, Of Luck is an already immeasurable achievement.

Thus I formalize it. A war philosophy that removes dependence on Divinity. Wars will not be fought through the unreliable variability of might and the whims of magicians. Wars will be fought through the consistency of steel, supported by sorcery.

Excerpt from Goddess Kassandora, Of War’s, Art of Victory: The Steel & Sorcery War Doctrine. Written during the Great War.

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