An odd sort of calmness had come over her after she heard Dalanesca died. Normally she should be feeling as if the world was ending, despairing at the impending doom that would eventually engulf the world as they knew it. Maybe she had felt those things, only to skip straight to a combination of bargaining and acceptance. Insectoid creatures were invading, as if coming out of thin air. It was hard to put into words what sort of frame of mind she was in right now. When they all saw Angela revive Dalanesca, she caught a familiar face spying on what had happened. Shiloh knew that face, though that face likely didn't recognize her. She had seen that spy not too long ago before the invasion caught everyone off guard, in Vilpamolan while she was on a personal trip. She should've said something to the others earlier. If she had they could have been better prepared, and maybe Dalanesca's death wouldn't have happened. She felt guilty.

It was too late now. There was no point in bringing this up. This would just make the others feel worse, maybe even suspect her. Even the most understanding of people could be turned bitter over an assumed betrayal. The others she could expect to hate her, but Angela… Shiloh didn't think even the Mother could forgive this oversight. What's done is done. She was partially responsible for this tragedy, so she was responsible for cleaning it up. There was no excuse for anything she had done. This was why she never wanted to be a deity–when all was said and done, she was still just a human. And humans made mistakes.

They were attacking Canelux now, but the invaders had to be stopped or else they would move on to Parvpora. Her 'supervisor' had assigned her with another deity she had paid a courtesy call once, to deliver a shipment of siege machine prototypes. In hindsight, that decision couldn't have been better. What better time to put them to use than now? A looping reel of sarcastic mental commentary was her attempt to numb the seething guilt at the bottom of her stomach. As terrible as it made her feel, this would be one secret she would take with her to the grave. Her first decision was to issue an order for all employees and close associates to retreat back to Antikythera. There, everyone was debriefed on the current situation and roles were delegated. All non-automatons were to stay behind front lines and avoid engaging the enemy except in self-defense. Disagreement was expected, coming mostly from her sons and Sylvain. She knew they could protect themselves, but they didn't understand what sort of disadvantage everybody was running against. Their enemies had already sent spies and scouts to observe Canelux long before the attack, while they essentially knew nothing. 

She had seen what one of them could do. Despite their martial training, they weren't prepared for the tactics and methods of beings who had both high aerial and ground maneuverability. And none of them likely had trained against opponents with two sets of arms. The insects were ruthless; they could not be negotiated with. The only message they could understand was plain and simple–a direct show of strength.

'Either we live, or we die.' 

He could scarcely believe what he was hearing. The situation was already dire, but they were being told to stay back and defend instead of engaging the enemy. Nerine and himself were more than capable of handling themselves in battle, yet the Steward said they couldn't be allowed on the front lines. "Shiloh, this is completely absurd. Why in the moons are you telling us to hold back? We are supposed to be out there–taking the fight to them instead of waiting for them to come to us! Why are you doing this?" Nerine was trying to explain some rationalized justification for her actions, but he wouldn't have it. She was doing this to them all over again, just like the time they dealt with the Kougetsu clan.

"Stop shutting us out!" Auron's face was grim but said nothing, as they were the only ones who knew what had truly happened that time. Nerine and Lysandre were in Arri when Antikythera was invaded, something he later learned had been planned by the Steward from the very beginning. Back then Shiloh had tried to push them away too. She told Auron she had decided to completely absolve his debt, then pretended to reveal her supposed malicious hidden intentions in binding him to her by contract. In the end it was just a ploy to convince them to leave. She wasn't looking at them in the eye, staring at a wall with her face turned away. Even he could tell she was avoiding his question. "Dalanesca was killed. Angela was able to resurrect her, but that could've been a stroke of luck. With those odds we could have very well lost her permanently. And I am not going to let the same thing happen to any of you."

Turning to face them, her face was like stone as she commanded: "All attendants and myrmidons are to prepare themselves for battle. All who do not fall under those categories are to remain within the encampment perimeter to defend our position. Incapacitate the enemy at all costs and take no prisoners. Destroy them, and show no mercy. There will be no casualties, and failure will not be accepted. Have I made myself clear?"    

"Yes, Captain!" The voices of all of the Machinarium's mechanical constructs responded in unison. At once, they began taking up armaments and entering the battlefield. "Everyone, positions!" She barked before turning on her heel towards the inner confines of the camp. Everyone else was leaving to take their places when Auron came over and placed a hand on Sylvain's shoulder. "It's like deja vu, isn't it? Feels like it's happening all over again. If you want to talk, you know where to find me." The redhead left for the forge leaving him behind in the meeting lodge by himself. Slinging his claymore onto his back, the vampire lord sighed. He never understood why she couldn't let them know what she was thinking.

One of the biggest problems she had at the moment was gathering information on the current situation without putting herself in harm's way. After what happened to Dalanesca she absolutely wasn't going to give the enemy an opportunity to take her out, potentially putting Angela at risk to revive her. In a sense, the non-organic members of Antikythera served as extra pairs of eyes and ears for her. This line of thinking gave her an idea… Taking a set of spare automaton parts she assembled the shell of a myrmidon. Placing her hand on its head, she worked her will onto the cold metal and created a temporary link. Standing away, she closed her eyes. At first all she saw was darkness. But slowly, her vision behind her eyelids was forming images. Then, she saw it–the ceiling. Even with her physical eyes obscured she could see using the optic sensors of the empty shell. With telekinesis it moved, and its field of vision was changing along with its perspective. Opening her eyes she turned to see the shell standing at attention. A wry smile crept across her face. "This…might just be crazy enough to work."

Moments later her mechanical proxy was charging out into the jungles alongside Diomedes and Galatea. "How much further until we reach the end of the path they cleared?" Her distorted voice spoke. "According to Euripides the cut undergrowth ends approximately fifteen meters from our current position. We will be out of the fortification's line of sight once we arrive." Galatea relayed with promptness. "Our scouts have reported no foot traffic across the cleared areas. The enemies must be keeping themselves airborne." Came Diomedes' reply. "As I suspected. Stay on your guard, our physical progress on increasing visibility in the jungle is a double-edged sword. They can track us as well as we can track them. You have permission to attack first and interrogate later." With blades drawn at the ready, they began cutting the cleared path deeper into the trees. They were in a triad formation, with backs against each other. Moving as one unit this reduced the chances of an ambush from the ground level. The sound of humming caught their attention and Shiloh felt the hairs on the back of her neck stand on end. Galatea and Diomedes were on edge as well. "They're here." The dark-haired female automaton stated with displeasure. With her proxy in position, Shiloh asked them: "What is our first objective?" 

The two automatons responded in perfect synchronization. "Incapacitate the enemy at all costs, and take no prisoners." "Good. Let's give 'em their last farewell." The next moment, a small squadron of wasp-like beings descended down from the canopy. As ordered, Shiloh and the automatons allowed the wasps to make the first move while masking their intentions with attempted acts of defense. When the wasps were close enough, one of them stabbed Galatea in her lower abdomen. Her eyes widened as red fluid leaked out from the puncture and her movements paused–only for her to return the favor by slicing off both of the insect's right arms. Diomedes and Shiloh did the same, snuffing out their lives with the utmost efficiency. The wasps realized that something was off when the humanoids they impaled through supposed vital regions continued moving, and tried to run–only to be impaled by a swarm of spectral knives. They were dead before they hit the ground.

The reddish liquid leaking from Galatea was now dry, and she was perfectly fine. "It appears your assumptions have been proven accurate Captain. It appears that old tricks do work on new dogs." Cleaning up the mess and carrying the pieces of the slain insects back to the encampment, the distorted sound of stifled laughter came from the automaton puppet once they were within its walls. "I'm surprised it worked that well. The blood wasn't even that fresh. We'll use a different substitute next time. We can't let them know all our tricks."  The middle two sentences of her words were transmitted telepathically instead of verbally, purposefully omitting the most sensitive pieces. Even behind closed doors you never knew who was eavesdropping. Today's mission was a success; they had procured five bodies in relatively pristine condition. These would be sent to the scholars for analysis, and she would have them send their findings over to Adraejen, the deity of knowledge.

Most communications within her ranks were strictly through code and telepathy for security's sake. Even when she wasn't controlling her proxy, she was continuously scanning the surrounding area for life signatures. The invaders might have an immunity to the unique powers of the gods, but as long as she didn't use them everything else was fair game. Everything had a weakness. That was the one fail-safe programmed into every being in existence.

"Efrain, I need you to analyze these things we took off of the party of invaders we encountered while advancing the cleared path." Before him was a pile of simple yet effective weapons, ranging from concealable blades to long bows. Articles of clothing were organized by type, and any additional items were set into their own category. His task was straightforward: inspect the items and determine if any bore enchantments or significance outside of their initial purpose. In order to fight your enemy, you needed to know your enemy. This was but one of the ways they were using to ascertain their desired knowledge. The alchemist had set up varying arrays to test for possible magic, residual or otherwise. He himself was behind several layers of protective wards should any of the objects be equipped with curses. Others might call him paranoid; he called them naive. In war there were no depths that the ruthless wouldn't sink to for the sake of victory.

So far all of the articles of clothing tested negative. The armor was the same, and so did most of the weapons. What did react was an interesting blade made from some sort of alloy. It was more like a large piece of obsidian in appearance, but it exhibited magnetic traits. "Likely contains significant proportions of iron." The dark color was from other components in the blade, meaning there could be three to four other ingredients in this metallic mixture. No malevolent magics were found on the blade so far, making the next step chemical testing. Chipping off a small piece, he dropped it into various compounds while observing how it reacted. The rest of the weapon was sent to the craftsmen at the forge to test their skill in working with it, but not after he had documented everything he had seen and tested. As for the other items, they were rubbish. Maybe the archivists would be interested in those sort of things.

"From these articles, we can assume that the deceased's belongings tell of their status within their own race. One was likely a low-level leader of some sort, judging by their possession of something made from a limited resource such as iron. The iron itself has various impurities, clearly an alloy blend of unknown proportions. It has a certain degree of corrosion and oxidation resistance but no silver-white luster. The amount of trace minerals providing this resistance must be minimal. Separation of the alloy's composite to purify into its base components is advised." The report complete, his assistant sent it along with the weapon while he returned to distilling plant concoctions. He had requested samples of the cleared undergrowth to see if anything useful might be made from their essence. Volcanic soil was one of the most fertile in the world, and there was no doubt the flora that grew from such soil was laden with minerals. Brightly colored ones typically had toxic compounds to deter herbivorous predators. Even if all he could make from them was a mild irritant, it was worth the effort. He could simply add an enchantment to increase its potency.

Nerine's youngest was one of their best alchemists behind the encampment walls. They got along surprisingly well, even when he was only as high as her knee. His father wasn't too happy when he found his boy talking to her, and on several occasions complained that she must have done something to his wife during conception to influence Efrain's behavior. Naturally she and Efrain himself found that ridiculous. As asked, he had cooked up several concoctions for her plan come phase two. They could easily open a portal to access the Machinarium's supplies, but she thought to try utilizing the local resources at hand. And from what she had learned from reading Nerine's field notes on tropical flora, they were laden with toxic compounds. 
 
Transferring the canisters of liquid corrosives, irritants, and incendiary into place, she connected them to a pump system. There were the collected chitinous remains of invaders that had been slain assembled into effigies, lined up in a row. Holding the nozzle of the pump system away from herself, she activated the trigger. The corrosives sprayed the first effigy in a mist, and a strong stinging smell filled the air. She waited for about ten minutes, then took a wooden pole with a sharpened point at the end. Thrusting with force, it pierced through the chitin. Doing that on an untreated piece would break off the point. Next came to test the incendiary. A small squirt was applied before tossing a lit match. The effigy went up in flames, and released an intense amount of heat before reducing it to a pile of charred remains. Efrain had told her the mixture was oil-based, so using water to neutralize it was useless. It would also cause the liquid to float on top where it could still be ignited. The irritant would have to be tested out on the field in order to determine how effective it was. That was fine with her, the other two had performed above and beyond her expectations.

Hooking up the pump system inside a metal chassis, she began to assemble a strange device. It was as large as a dog, with a bulbous body and jointed legs. Portions of its body could open up to reveal a propulsion system, allowing flight. When it was complete, it shared an uncanny resemblance to a large spider. "Number One is complete, now onto Two and Three. Time for a test run, my arachnoid friend." She murmured, patting its shiny metallic surface. Pulling out an encyclopedia she had borrowed from a Bakulaw scholar, she flipped to the page bookmarked for the Bakulaw flying spider. With all its functions operational, the final step was to apply a nice coat of camouflage. Hours passed when she stepped away to admire her handiwork. She held up the encyclopedia's picture of it next to the mechanical version, and began to smile. "Perfect. It looks just like the real thing…"  

Everybody who wasn't mostly made of metal was kept behind the fort's walls at Shiloh's orders. Walter had only met the young deity recently, so he had never seen her take such a commanding attitude. The senior employees, namely Auron and Sylvain, weren't surprised. When he asked them if this was how she usually acted, they said yes but refused to say more on the subject. He could feel that they were withholding something, but didn't feel he should press further. From the looks on their faces it probably wasn't something they were happy to recall. After all of Antikythera met at the meeting and tasks were delegated, the lycanthorpe found himself growing more restless each passing day. The gods were at war, and he thought of Shayla who likely was by the goddess Angela's side miles north. Aside from his natural-born abilities, Walter couldn't contribute much. He wasn't trained for direct confrontation, and scouting in the jungle was too dangerous now.

He could sense the tension hanging in the air as the automaton soldiers left and returned on attack missions daily. Shiloh began working nonstop on something, locking herself inside her work space. Days passed where she didn't eat or sleep, and the sound of hammering echoed from within. The tracker was beginning to seriously worry about her health. Even when they left food for her it went untouched, and it had to be given to the rose hydras they had brought over from the Machinarium. The first time she left the room in a week was for a thick book and box of paints. It was quiet inside, and nobody knew what she had been doing. 

While she worked day and night, the mechanical fighters under Shiloh's command brought back the corpses of the insect invaders that were roaming the jungle. The sight was unnerving, their bodies with six limbs and strange colored fluids seeping from their wounds. The scent wasn't anything like what he had seen in all his years out in the wilds. Hard shells like polished metal covered their bodies but were far lighter. They were stiff, difficult to bend. Once the mages and scholars were finished recording what they saw, he took time to memorize the fallen invaders' scent. Though they might be faster, stronger, and more cunning–as long as there was a breeze, he could smell them and detect their presence. 

Late one night he woke up from a bout of fitful sleep. There were so many worries on his mind, he had to find a way to let them out. Shifting into his wolf form Walter slipped out of his tent to pace the fort grounds. The moons were obscured by the moving clouds, and all was quiet. Circling the compound a third time, he heard the sound of movement. It was a clacking sound, metallic in a way. Too light to be footsteps of armor, but something quick and agile. For a brief moment there was a break in the clouds and he saw something with several legs crawl out of the fort into the darkness. He went over to where he last saw it, and found there were strange tracks. Only several small impressions in the dirt, and a faint smell of paint. Nothing matched the scents of the insect bodies he had inspected earlier.


The next morning Shiloh came out from her room looking more relaxed than usual. Her family members and friends mobbed her as soon as they saw, fussing over her while glad she was alright. She even agreed to eat whatever they gave her and didn't brush off their concerns for her well-being. When she was by herself, the tracker went over. "You look like you're in a good mood today." The deity's usual poker face was less stiff. Leaning back in a chair she replied: "Do I? It's that obvious?" The sat for a while, watching guards change posts. "So…mind telling an old dog what you've been up to? It must've been important if you had to focus like that for days." She yawned, rubbing her eyes and crossing her arms. "It's nothing major, really. Let's just say that we'll have a much easier time fighting those bugs from now on."

Field-testing of the prototypes was an overwhelming success. After watching the machines at work, she brought them back for minor adjustments. Right away she ordered more models to be made en masse, as soon as possible. Her reports gathered from scouts metal or otherwise mentioned increased activity from the invaders within the jungle. Although she had managed to create safer pathways for other allies to enter Apoy's rainforest, what bothered her most was not being able to locate and eradicate the insects' bases. None of the information banks collected from Prototypes One to Three had found it. It was a serious concern for everyone fighting here; if the enemy still had a stronghold, then they had a place to retreat to regroup and potentially renew their assault. That was unacceptable. Shiloh's objective for Antikythera's attack was simple: hit them fast, and hit them hard. Give them no chance for recovery, destroy their lines of supply, cut them off from reinforcements, and eradicate them all. She could potentially send an order to have all of Apoy's vegetation leveled and decimated, but that sort of thing would be the same as strangling the residents who had been evacuated from the island. It might solve the present problem, but the aftereffects would last for centuries.

The insects weren't mindless drones, despite what they looked. If she could come up with these tactics, then so could they. Sooner or later one of them would launch an all-out attack. It was just a matter of time… Either they would live, or they would die trying. Her next move, was just another backup plan. Defending was easy, however there was one large glaring variable. She could pull back her forces in a heartbeat, but for everybody else that was another story. She didn't have a roster of every gung-ho adventurer and sellsword running around. Anybody unlucky enough to be in the wrong place at the wrong time would become a casualty. If there was one thing the Steward of Antikythera hated with a passion, it was losses. 

Speaking with her employees, she began preparations. Ready or not, the rest of the forces aiding the Conclave would have to bite the bullet if they were out when the plan was put into action. She'd at least give them all a fair warning. Taking out an amplifier, the storm deity made a broadcast over the entirety of Apoy. "Attention all units, this is your Captain speaking. Our reports have detected a tropical storm brewing off the eastern coast of Apoy. Gale-force winds and flash flooding are expected to make landfall sometime within the next few days. I repeat, this is not a drill–a storm is coming."