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The city glistened like a pristine, white jewel nestled in the crook of the Chaladi River.  Like an oyster shell of white marble with a stunning blue pearl in the center, so lovely that it couldn't be believed.  This is Chalad, heart of the Chaladian States.  Not just a city of beauty, but of art with even its curtain wall decorated in elaborate statuary.  Less obvious was the city's dedication to philosophy and natural sciences, but one could barely see the city's world famous Collegiate.  Of course magic as well.

But above all that, piety ruled here.  The temple of Solase rose in the center above all else, that blue dome consecrated to a faith of peace, reason, and comfort.  Solase took in all in need.  Fed the hungry.  Clothed the wretched.  This was the center of her faith, and it had shaped the city in her image.

"Too bad it has to be destroyed," a woman murmured, peering through a spyglass at the city's doom.  Below it, in a ring of black steel and arcane fortifications, the Empire awaited.  One hundred thousand strong, the Third Legion sat posed to render it all to powder.  Five hundred siege guns, and three airships at the ready once the arcane defenses were reduced.

Such a pity.  The wing caught her long hair, blowing it into her eyes.  Damn it, she'd cut it short in a heartbeat, if she could.  She reached back, tying the leather strap tighter to keep it back.

"Hey, Aerithine," came another woman's call from the steep hills to the north.  "I think I spotted Balmor.  Wedge thirteen.  On that big tiled roof."

Aerithine lifted the glass again, moved to the wedge, and scanned back and forth.  There!  "Oh, yeah," she murmured, spotting his long, forked beard.  "Not in his robes, but who carries around a staff like that?"  She flipped open a small, leather bound note book where she'd copied the city as closely as possible, and drew a line to the roof in question.  Command was going to be happy.  "Nice catch, Chait."

The pair couldn't have been more of a contrast had they tried.  Where Aerithine appeared slight, pallid, with milky, translucent hair, Chait stood tall and striking, with the long blue and green hair so common among imperial nobles.  "So unless the rest are keeping out of sight, that's only four mages for an entire city," she said collapsing her spyglass and checking her pocket watch.  "Almost time.  Think we'll be allowed to fight?"

Aerithine sighed.  "You know what command said.  We're lucky they let us scout."

"They barely do that," Chait sniffed as they gathered up their equipment and started down the hillside.  "I think they'd rather have us flounce about the capital supporting the war."

As they proceeded to the base, other women emerged as well.  "Well, they certainly dressed us appropriately for lounge flouncing," Aerithine said with a wry smile.  The uniforms, if they could be called that at all, were what one might produce if a military designer went to a buresque show, or perhaps a brothel madam enlisted in the army.  Certainly, they hired one of the more impractical armorsmiths in all the empire to made the breastplate that emphasized breasts that weren't generally present in all who wore them.  

"You nobles talking fashion?" called one of the approaching women.  Like Chait, she had a pleasing physique, as required for any woman daring to enter the Imperial Army.

"Of course, Talba.  That and social engagements on the field," Chait replied with a snort, affecting the breathless voice they were encouraged to employ.  "With a hundred thousand men, one should be able to pick up a proper gentleman.  Law of probably says there should be at least one."

"Lower your standards and throw a rock," the swarthy red haired woman replied.

There were only forty of them, the first women permitted to serve in a field of combat.  Aerithine supposed that was something of progress.  Half were from Imperial aristocrats without sons serve as officers, like Chait.  The other half, seemly commoners like Talba given the chance to better their lot in ways no woman was allowed.  Nevermind that they were something of a joke or insult to command, they were here!

Of course, she had her own reasons for being here.  As they congregated, Aerithine peered back up the slope and frowned as she glimpsed something white through the trees.  A soldier?  No.  There was no ridiculously revealing uniform, and she was the only woman with white hair in the squad.  "Hey, Chait," she said, starting to point at the figure amid the trees.

But as Chait turned, Aerithine blinked, and the figure vanished.

At the bottom of the hill waited their Lieutenant.  Boram d'Kalidrad leaned against a mount, taking the opportunity to enjoy a pipe.  "Have a nice hike?" he asked them, gesturing up the steep slope with a knobby hand missing two fingers.

"The best.  You should have tried it," Talba said with a snort, hands on her hips.

"Please.  I'm old," he said with a pained expression.  "Scampering around the countryside noting troop movements is for young bucks... or does... like yourselves.  What'd you see?"

"We confirmed Balmon Figarosa, The Enchantress Felaria, Jesir the Hobbled, and Golian the Short among the mages in line of sigh."  Chait reported.  "I really was surprised.  Felaria's not what I pictured an 'Enchantress' to be."

"Respect her anyway.  They don't let women mages out of the Ars Aetherium back home," Boram countered.  "Any others on the list?"

Aerithine paused and glanced back up the hill.  "I think I saw the White Witch, sir," she reported, stiffening a little.  The announcement sent a ripple of sobriety through the squad.  

"In the city?" he asked.

Aerithine shook her head.  "Just a few minutes ago, right behind us."

Boram peered his good eye up the slope, then looked at Aerithine.  "Did you think you saw something, or did you see her?"

Aerithine took a deep breath.  "I saw a woman with white hair, and I think she was dressed in white."

He scratched his stubble.  "Better reported and dismissed than not reported and confirmed.  Mount up!"