Volume 1: Chapter 7: Circumstances Evolved
Originally Drafted: April 24th, 2022
Originally Uploaded: April 26th, 2022
Updated On: July 25th, 2022
/ UNSC Eternity, Alpha Base, November 3rd, 0000 hrs. /
The Mastodon arrived at Alpha Base in the dead of night. Activity all around the area was at a low pace as only the sight of the occasional night patrol and dimmed lights from the many facilities dotted the site. The base could be described as sleepily quiet with how lethargic things seemed.
While the vehicle was more than capable of getting here in under an hour. Sargeant Dizdar had politely asked the Driver to slow down in consideration of their guests, who were used to traveling at a slower pace via horse drawn carriage. The speeds an APC was capable of would have been too much for either of them.
With that in mind, they took the scenic route back at a leisurely pace. Many of the UNSC personnel among them were grateful for it as it allowed them time to rest up after the events that unfolded tonight. While they were no stranger to conflict, to the greenhorns among them, it was still jarring to go up against your fellow humans in a fight. The disparity shown in their combat prowess was clear as day when they finally came to blows and unleashed a barrage of gunfire at the, in-comparison, lightly armored mercenaries.
When they finally arrived at their destination, one by one they began to dismount the vehicle, while the Count and Siesta had to be helped off, as the pair found difficulty in exiting the vehicle. Despite the Driver's best efforts, they felt a wave of motion sickness hit them as they came to a stop.
"You good?" Asked Corporal DiMaggio to a dazed Siesta.
"I'm fine, Monsieur. Really. No need to worry about me." She weakly said in-between breaths of fresh air.
DiMaggio had been quiet during most of the Op. Uncharacteristic of the man if you hadn't seen him in action before. But when they rescued the girl. He was back to his normal self.
Sergeant Dizdar, having gotten off first. Had been on the radio, talking to his superiors. Reporting a successful mission.
"Understood." The Sargeant replied to the man on the other end.
"Captain wants to speak with you, Ma'am." He turned to the exasperated Siesta. Currently being tended to by a slightly anxious looking ODST.
Who then yelped at the sudden interruption. "Forgive me for my prudence, Monsieur Sergeant. But would it be appropriate for me to dress modestly before meeting with Captain Morgan?" She asked. She didn't want to wear the Count's inappropriate excuse for a uniform any longer.
"Shouldn't be too much of a problem." Sergeant Dizdar responded with a nod. "DiMaggio, escort the lady to the ship. And get her a change of clothes before the meeting." He ordered.
"Roger." Was DiMaggio's succinct response.
/ UNSC Eternity, Bridge, 0005 hrs. /
"That could have gone a lot worse." Said Captain Morgan as he let out a sigh of relief. He had been on the line with Sargeant Dizdar after they had returned from Count Mott's Estate and the sight of his men returning relatively unharmed had put him at ease.
"Thankfully, it didn't. Aside from one Marine who panicked after thinking himself injured. I could say this mission was a success." Lieutenant Redding added.
The two basked in the silence of a successful mission. Something they were glad to have, after their disastrous retreat barely a week ago. This change of pace was a welcome reprieve. A break from the constant stress of having to worry about making sure their forces don't fall apart under the stress of recent events.
"Right…" Captain Morgan weakly muttered out. "Now, that reminds me." He turned to the Lieutenant. "Why do we have a Spartan-III onboard? I wasn't aware there were more of them around." Captain Morgan asked.
Lieutenant Redding paused. Now that the cat was out of the bag. He knew Captain Morgan wouldn't let up until he got his answers.
"Gamma Company is the third addition to the SPARTAN-III program." Lieutenant Redding began to explain after a moment of deliberation. He seemed to choose his words carefully as he began to talk.
"And many among them consider themselves to be the best ever produced by said program. A feat that I'm sure is not a boast, given my experience with them." He pulled up the profile of Spartan-G074.
"Though, Spartan-G074, like his brothers in arms, could be considered a… special case." As Captain Morgan looked through his service record. He could see that entire paragraphs had been blacked out. Ranging from operations that dated from the end of 2552 to the beginning of the current year, the Spartan seemed to have been on missions regularly for the past few years. Barely any breaks in-between given how close some of the dates seemed.
"By the time his company was ready for deployment. The Master Chief and the Arbiter had already killed the Prophet of Truth at the Ark. The war was basically over by then. With nothing else to fight. He's spent the last 6 years dealing with the Insurrection and Covenant Remnants on behalf of ONI before ending up here with us." Lieutenant Redding finished.
"So you made him a Headhunter?" Captain Morgan asked. He wasn't quite sure what to make of the Spartan knowing this information now. He was glad to have a capable fighter around, but he was worried about the man's mental state. Given how often he'd been in combat, the peace and quiet must've been hard to get used to for him.
Lieutenant Redding chuckled at this. "We didn't really have much else to do for a Spartan trained to kill on command. We could've sent him with the Spartan-IV's but that would have raised a lot of questions about where he came from. Especially with his records and…" The Lieutenant about to say before cutting himself off. "Nevermind. It's not that important."
"I understand." Captain Morgan begrudgingly said. "Are there any other secrets you're keeping from me, Lieutenant?" He asked as he put down the Spartan's profile.
"No, sir." Lieutenant Redding said with a blank expression.
It's hard to tell when an ONI Agent was telling the truth or not. But, for now. He had taken his words at face value. He had other things to worry about at the moment. Remembering about their new visitors to base, he turned to speak to their AI.
"Monty, see to it that our new guest here is comfortable." Captain Morgan spoke. He needed to have a word with the rescued maid.
"Does that include our esteemed guest as well, Sir?" Monty asked sarcastically as he appeared next to Captain Morgan on a nearby holotank.
While the rescue of Siesta was the priority for this mission. The successful capture of the Count had also been accomplished. The man had thrashed about exclaiming to be let go all the way to the ship when he came to. Before he was knocked unconscious again by several MP's who he threatened violence with.
"I'll deal with him myself." Lieutenant Redding cut in.
"Don't break him too badly. I imagine Tristain would want to have a word with the Count themselves afterwards." Captain Morgan said to the Lieutenant.
He didn't want to cause too much of a diplomatic incident by killing a person of nobility. Regardless of their personality.
"Rest assured, Captain. My men and I know our limits." The Lieutenant gave a wave as he turned to leave.
/ UNSC Eternity, Crew's Quarters, 0020 hrs. /
Siesta had been escorted to a room aboard what was considered the Crew's Quarters. A section of the ship, dedicated to the personnel living aboard the Eternity.
A modestly sized room. Yet, one equipped with all the faculties afforded to those of a status higher than her in Halkeginian society.
It came with a clean toilet and bathroom. A comfortable, soft bed and even a closet. Something akin to the rooms in the Academy's dormitory. But clearly leagues beyond them. If the quality was any indication.
Siesta would have thought she was given special treatment. Were it not for Corporal DiMaggio's assurance that all of this was standard for anyone within the UEG. Something she had difficulty wrapping her mind around. If the average citizen could afford such a quality of life. She could hardly imagine how the nobility lived.
She was told this was a "civilian" room. Reserved for the non-military contractors who had been with the ship when it left the UEG territory. She wondered how many could have been aboard this gargantuan vessel. Especially if they required this many rooms to be built. She had seen many of them as she was escorted here.
She was brought out of her musings when a female Marine walked into the room. Out of consideration. She was the one who handed her a change of spare clothes. A shirt with the word "UNSC" emblazoned on it and pants with the same green drab she saw the Marines wore underneath their armor.
A spare uniform. She didn't mind. After thanking the Marine she immediately replaced her rather revealing outfit for the far more comfortable UNSC uniform.
It was. Strange. To say the least. Obviously of a superior material compared to the ones used in the uniform of the noble children at the Academy. Yet it didn't appear to have the same frivolities sewn into it. It was simple. It was… spartan. A word her grandfather used to describe the rather simplistic lifestyle they led. Yet, she didn't know exactly what it meant. But it felt right to use it in this situation.
After confirming with herself that the outfit was a comfortable fit. She moved to leave the room. As she stepped outside, she saw the familiar sight of an ODST waiting for her. Albeit one that had unmasked himself.
She couldn't remember who exactly this person was. But he had a head of red hair. Though not to the extent of vibrancy as Lady Kirche from Germania. His face looked young. No older than his mid-20's she assumed. But he had a bit of a stubble forming underneath his chin.
The man grinned when he saw her exit the room and said. "That looks good on you."
She recognized that voice. "Monsieur, DiMaggio?" She asked.
"Yeah, it's me." The ODST confirmed with a smile. "Captain Morgan sent me to escort you after you were done changing. Said he had a lot to ask."
Siesta gave a smile back in turn and motioned for him to lead the way. At least she had pleasant company to speak with on their way to meet the ship's Captain.
/ UNSC Eternity, Bridge, 0100 hrs. /
The trip on the way to the Bridge. Where Captain Morgan was usually at. Had been uneventful, thankfully. Aside from Siesta stopping to ask questions every once in a while about the strange machinery aboard the ship. Which DiMaggio helpfully answered to the best of his abilities.
They had finally reached the Bridge. Present in the room at this hour of the night. Was Captain Morgan, Monty, and a skeleton crew. The rest had turned in for the night earlier and left the room relatively quiet.
"Siesta of Tarbes. It's good to finally meet you." Captain Morgan spoke to her as he saw her come in. Despite his relaxed stance, it seemed he had an air of authority exuding from him.
The man was a veteran. Evident from the way he carried himself. Standing like a man with the responsibility of the world thrust upon his shoulders, yet bearing the burden gladly. With a warm smile on his face, he motioned for her to come over.
Siesta didn't know whether to bow towards the man or what. The UNSC has shown themselves to be almost completely alien to the society she grew up in. She stood silent for a moment wondering how to proceed.
The awkward moment was broken with a small cough beside her. Coming from the ODST who had stuck by her all the way here.
"That's your cue to introduce yourself." He simply said.
Siesta flushed in embarrassment at being told this. Making up her mind. She gave a polite bow to Captain Morgan. "It is an honor to meet you, Ser Captain."
Captain Morgan shook his head at the gesture. "No need for that kind of formality, Ma'am." He stopped her. "None of us here are nobles."
Siesta seemed puzzled at Captain Morgan's words. How could they not be nobility? Surely only someone of noble bloodline would be allowed to lead such a fearsome ship.
"I don't understand. What do you mean none of you are nobles?" She asked.
"It's precisely what I say. None of us here are nobles or any kind of lord. The nobility hasn't exactly been relevant in over 600 years." Captain Morgan said.
Siesta couldn't believe what she was hearing. A society where the nobility wasn't in charge was unheard of. Aside from her grandfather who had resented the nobles throughout his life here, this was a strange thing to be hearing to her ears.
"Then, what should I call you then, Captain?" She asked, unsure now.
"Just call me by name. If you wouldn't mind, you can call me, Morgan. Being stuck with formalities would lead us to beating around the bush." Captain Morgan answered.
"Then, Monsieur Morgan, if you wouldn't mind in turn. You may call me, Siesta." She reciprocated the gesture.
Captain Morgan smiled warmly. "Great. Now that we're introduced. Siesta, I'd like to hear about your grandfather." Morgan asked her.
She didn't mind telling others. Her grandfather had led an interesting life, even prior to his arrival here. A life she had only thought mostly fantasy until the UNSC arrived here as well.
Siesta moved to procure something she had kept with her along her journey. A photograph. One of the precious few things her grandfather had left behind. She kept it inside her uniform as a reminder of why she was working. A reminder of the family she left behind.
She showed Captain Morgan the photograph. When he took it from her hands. He took a moment to scrutinize every minute detail he could see.
It was remarkably well preserved. Given how old it must've been at this point. The edges of the photograph had shown signs of fading, but the picture itself was still clear.
"Well, I'll be. That's an actual physical photograph." Morgan said as he held the photo Siesta had given him in his hand.
"My grandfather was always sentimental about physical belongings. He said that 'digital' stuff just didn't have the same feeling to it. Whatever that means." She said in response.
In the photo was a man. Smiling in front of an older model of Pelican. A variant which hasn't been used in over 80 years.
He looked to be enjoying himself in the moment given how huge his grin was. He wore the uniform of a UNSC pilot from the late 2400's. The photo on hand was more than enough evidence for the Captain. She was definitely one of them. No matter how far removed her family might be.
"How long ago was this?" Morgan asked. He was curious as to the circumstances which brought Siesta's grandfather to this world.
"My grandfather said it was taken shortly before he arrived here. He was going to be deployed somewhere on the Outer Colonies as he called it. That was until he claimed a portal brought him here." Siesta answered as honestly as she could.
The same way we came here. So our case isn't an 'isolated incident' after all. I'll have to bring this up at the next meeting. Morgan thought to himself.
"Was he brought here along with his Pelican?" Morgan asked. Knowing others had arrived here before them had given him some new things to think about.
"Indeed. Although the people assumed it was a dragon when he arrived." She chuckled at this. It seemed she found it humorous. Knowing now that these Aircraft were nothing but mechanical creations.
"Not long after that, he met my grandmother and fell in love. He settled down in the village of Tarbes. Where the local Lord had casted a 'Preservation' spell on the Pelican as thanks for his service to the region."
"Am I correct to assume that the Pelican is still in the village then?" Andrei asked. His attention perked at the mention of it being preserved by magic.
" Oui, though. You may have to ask my father if you wish to see it. The elders are rather protective of my grandfather's belongings."
Andrei thought for a moment. While having an extra Pelican aboard would be helpful. It'd cost too much effort to have it be refitted for duty even when it was presumably 100 years out of date. The locals seemed to have treated the aircraft with respect. Something he didn't want to disturb, lest he ruin their reputation in their eyes.
"You don't need to trouble yourself, Siesta. This is more than enough for us to prove your family's history. Based on this. You and your family could qualify as UEG citizens." Morgan said as much to her.
Siesta blinked. Had she heard what Captain Morgan had said correctly?
"What would that mean, exactly, Ser Captain?" She returned to a more polite manner of speaking.
"It means we can give you and your family the same opportunities afforded to those who live within the UEG's borders." Captain Morgan explained. A grin plastered on his face.
「 Tristain Academy of Magic, November 3rd, 2558, 0700 hrs. 」
Miss Longueville, the Secretary of Old Osmond. Had been watching the UNSC and Tristainian personnel within the Academy grounds with rapt attention.
The two forces had collaborated together when it came to ensuring the security of the campus for the upcoming Familiar Exhibition.
Patrols had come and went at odd intervals. A schedule which she had to memorize were she to carry on with her original plan.
She had been tasked by her employers to steal the " Staff of Destruction", a magical weapon said to be able to slay a dragon with ease.
She had all but confirmed its place within the Academy Vault. Her colleague, Professor Colbert had said as much when he was inebriated. Something she used her charms on to get out of the man.
But the arrival of these UNSC forces and the ones from the Capital. Had thrown a huge wrench in her plans. She needed to rework her strategy to proceed with her theft. She wasn't known as Fouquet the Crumbling Dirt for nothing.
She spent the past few days probing the defenses in the security they had organized for the event. She had to give a begrudging respect towards these foreigners. They left nothing to chance.
Backups within backups. They had a plan for every occasion. From what she could tell at least. The UNSC Marines sent in advance as a security detail didn't divulge too much information. Even if she were officially part of the staff.
She had to make a distraction for her to break into the Vault and acquire something with enough firepower to bypass the magical barriers put in place to guard it. She just needed enough time for her to break into and steal the Staff of Destruction from the Vault before she got caught.
「 UNSC Eternity, Brig, November 3rd, 0800 hrs. 」
The Royal Messager, Count Jules de Mott. Had woken up in an unfamiliar cell. The last thing he remembered were those barbarians dragging him towards their ship. No doubt kidnapped for ransom. He'd assured himself that the Kingdom would hear of this soon. Such an act of transgression would be tantamount to an act of war of course! Such an obvious breach of sovereignty would not be tolerated in his eyes. It would only be a matter of time before he could walk free once more, surely.
With that in mind, he'd bide his time in this cell.
At least that was his initial plan. Having spent the past few hours staring blankly at the bare room he was in. He'd begun to grow incredibly bored. An unintended form of torture perhaps? Leave him so utterly deprived of experience he'd leap at the chance of human contact.
Well he would not give them the satisfaction of watching him break. For he was Count Mott, his runic name was "The Wave" for his skill in manipulating water. Had he had his wand on his person right now he would have broken free of his shackles and fought his way out. No cowardly peasant who relies on musketry could possibly beat one of Brimir's children.
He'd sat there for hours. He could tell by the sound of his stomach rumbling that was the case. It was probably morning by now. Yet he hadn't seen any signs of people around. Could they possibly have left him there and thrown away the key? No. That would be beyond cruel. Surely they just forgot, right?
As the hours seemed to tick on by. The feeling of discomfort kept growing all the while.
Although he promised he'd pay them back tenfold for this. He couldn't do so locked behind this cell. By Brimir's Balls, why has nobody shown up yet? Is it not common courtesy to check on your own prisoner's condition?
Hours! He'd been left alone for hours. How could they do this to him? Why would they do this to him? It felt like he was losing himself in this madness of isolation.
He'd had enough. He started screaming. Yelling for someone to come out. Anyone would do. Just to confirm he wasn't forgotten here.
Appearing rabid in his madness. He began to scream and shout at nothing.
"How long do we keep him like that for?" Asked an ONI Agent.
He had been assigned to watch over the Count in a specialized interrogation room. Built by ONI in secret aboard the Eternity.
"About as long as it takes for the man to break. Just let him stew in there for a bit longer. He'll be ready to talk in an hour or so." Lieutenant Redding said as he crossed his arms.
He had been the one to order that the Count's room be pumped with a low-grade hallucinogenic gas. Just enough to be unnoticeable by most. But still potent enough to cause the desired effects.
"He looks like a sobbing mess in there." The ONI Agent pointed out. The Count had begun tearing at his hair in frustration.
"He deserves it. Besides you've read the file on him, no?" Lieutenant Redding replied.
"But it seems cruel, Sir."
"We do whatever we have to. Desperate times call for desperate measures."
The pair continued to watch as the Count had started pleading to whoever was out there. His face a mess of tears and sweat, with his clothing ragged from the hours of rough handling he underwent.
"Are you not entertained?"
/ Tristain Academy of Magic, November 3rd, 2558 0800 hrs. /
Repair Chief, Jeff Marsden had been one of many volunteers to help with setting up at the Academy. Having been part of the UNSC Doghouse, a Repair Ship who fell in with the fleeing UNSC Eternity. They basically had nothing else to do.
The Doghouse just floated in orbit around Alpha Base. Helping out with the occasional repair and construction work on-site. Most of them hadn't truly explored this new world they landed on as they were quite busy with helping the rest of their mini-fleet in repairs and construction.
That was why when he heard of the call for volunteers to help with setting up for the Exhibition. He quickly signed up at the opportunity. Seeing a chance to see this strange new world for himself, he volunteered to help out.
Currently he was sitting under the shade of a field tent. Taking a break after hours of hard labor. He'd been working on helping set up prefabs and power generators around the site to power up the UNSC facilities for the Exhibition. He could tell that they had really gone all out to impress the locals for whatever reason.
Presumably as an attempt to prove that they weren't entirely warlike. Considering all the insults and threats thrown their way from some of the more common and simple background folk, with the occasional disgruntled nobleman. They weren't entirely welcome. It was the feeling that he gathered after a while of being on the ground.
But, some of the things they had introduced had certainly helped ease the tension. In particular the "Entertainment" section of the UNSC side of the Exhibition grounds.
Someone had apparently managed to convince the higher-ups that a small movie theater would be a good idea.
It was currently packed with students and some of the professors who had expressed interest in viewing their "visual mediums of storytelling."
The locals seemed to enjoy it. Though they didn't have much on hand, they were able to put on a show for them. Currently showing was an old period drama from the 21st Century. Courtesy of an old film buff within the civilian side of the Eternity. Who happened to have had with him a collection of old movies within his personal effects when they left UEG space.
He didn't know much about what else the man had in store, but what was currently showing was something about a disgraced General forced to fight in an arena. Jeff wasn't particularly fond of history. But he could see why these people would like it. It was a good way to bond with the locals at least.
They seemed to truly enjoy it. If the sounds of cheering and other noises filling the air around the structure were any indication.
He looked at his watch. Something of an antique. A model that had been passed down through his family for generations. Displaying that he had two minutes left on his break time. He began to pack up his things.
Throwing away his trash and picking up his tools. He went straight back into installing the power generator for another prefab structure.
That was when a local came by. A female staff member with long green hair. Odd, but not uncommon in the UEG. A lot of people tended to dye their hair in the civilian sector.
"Can I help you?" He asked the woman as she continued staring at his work.
"Ah, I was just curious, is all. What is it you are trying to do, Monsieur?" She asked in turn. Her face looked scrutinizing as she watched intently.
"A power generator." He gestured to the device he was installing.
"It's what powers the structures we've set up here. Don't mess with it." He said to the woman. He didn't care too much about her presence. But he couldn't do his job with someone hovering over him. He just wanted to get his work done.
"Intriguing." She cupped her chin in thought. "May I ask, what were to happen if these were to be disturbed then?" It was an odd question. But he could satiate her curiosity just this once.
"It'll explode. That's what'll happen." He said with a serious expression. If he didn't set these things up correctly. It'd be a disaster.
"Now, if you don't mind, you're interrupting my work." He made a gesture of dismissal towards her.
Realizing the intent the man had with the move. She gave him her thanks then turned to leave. Her form grew distant as she continued to move and inspect the facilities he and his crew had helped set up.
Trying to get back to work, he shook his head in annoyance. "Locals." He muttered underneath his breath.
Professor Colbert had spent the previous days familiarizing himself with the UNSC and their strange magical equipment.
With the Colonel of the Marine detachment, Colonel Williams as his escort. She had guided him through some of the facilities they had planned to show off for the Exhibition. Explaining to him all the while all the strange manner of devices and services they had on display.
One of them being, an unusual form of theater. He was led to a structure made of the same "prefabricated" materials the Colonel mentioned to him before. He still couldn't believe that bit, being able to mass produce materials on such a large scale and to be able to deploy them almost immediately? It was genius. He felt he could learn much from them if he continued observing.
Colonel Williams had led him to the supposed theater as they went. He could see that it was dark and filled with seats when they entered. It was rather minimalistic in design and he could see a silver screen taking up most of the space at the front of the room. He could now recognize its function as a theater, but the stage was far too small for any actors to perform on. Curious.
"Madame Williams. You say this is a theater. But why is the stage so small? It could hardly count as one in fact." He pointed out to the front of the darkened room.
"That would be the movie screen. It's where we display the moving pictures for our entertainment." She pointed out.
"How does that work?" He asked, now intrigued.
"You'll find out soon enough." After a moment. The room began to fill up. Mostly students who had nothing else to do and a few staff members he could recognize began to enter the room. He saw familiar shades of color on the heads of those who sat around them, before he could check to confirm however, the screen began to glow.
Strange letters, icons and moving paintings displayed proudly upon it and he found himself drawn to the images.
After a few minutes of what he assumed was fancy heraldry for various noble houses that participated in this production. The image then changed to a lifelike picture.
Showing a man out on campaign. Wearing armor that was vaguely reminiscent of Ancient Romalian design. It was real. Was this some kind of illusionary magic perhaps? A showing of fantastical dreams to an audience who wish to lose themselves in escapism? Colbert couldn't help but be enraptured by the visuals.
For almost two hours. He was mesmerized in the tale shown on screen.
Of a man driven by his desire to avenge his family, murdered by the orders of a tyrant king. He was a former General, the leader of many successful campaigns. Brought to ruin by a jealous Prince. It was almost like witnessing an actual moment of history in motion. Albeit, one with an uncomfortably grandiose display of violence.
It was truly something else entirely to see a story brought to life on such a scale. Not even the magically enhanced plays at the Capital's finest or of Romalia's own theater troupes could boast such a breathtaking display.
It certainly could put the finest Halkeginian theater productions to shame when it came to spectacle.
Through all this. Colbert wondered. What else could the UNSC have to show them?
The Colonel beside him sat with a wide grin on her face. "Can't beat the classics." She said as the 'movie' concluded.
Reviews:
PittBullBytes: Thanks for the word of advice. I wasn't exactly sure as to how to proceed with action scenes. Most of the ones I've read on here are usually so detailed, that I felt I needed to catch up to that kind of length.
Glad to hear that this style isn't too much of an issue and you find it interesting enough to read.
yangn33: Wilco. On the military jargon and radio communication thing. Would help add a layer of authenticity if I do manage to incorporate that.
MajorSimi: Thank you!
MrMateusz: Thank you. Yeah probably overkill to have "David" be the one to take out the Count in that situation. But if it's proper combat against a mage you're looking for. It won't be too long on that.
TheDisquietingOne: While an interesting idea. I don't think the UNSC would help incite a revolt like that, yet…
Maybe in the future. I do have plans for getting the other Brimiric nations involved especially the Romalians. But that's for down the line.
Konstantinsen: Kudos to you. As for the Wardes thing. I didn't initially plan on having him be taken so soon. But it felt like an appropriate way to start diverging from canon. With his capture we're going to start veering slightly off from the original main story before moving on from there.
As for the "musket ball penetrating" issue from last chapter. I have received many comments (Many of them basically just repeat the same points with differing levels of verbiage.)
about that particular bit.
So, I'll just answer all of those In this sesection.
1. It was a Marine that got hit. Not an ODST. I name-dropped the other members of Dizdar's squad so you could tell it wasn't one of them getting hit.
2. I'm aware that 26th Century Body Armor would be more than capable of protecting someone against musket fire. But you're still a pile of flesh and muscles underneath. If you got hit, especially if you're just a normal human. You'd feel the impact. Probably not enough to kill you. But certainly enough to bruise. Which is why I retconned that particular bit from him bleeding to him getting bruised.
3. Marines since Halo 1 often rolled up their sleeves and had exposed skin. Wouldn't be out of place if they got hit there. For this particular fic. You can imagine the Marines to look like their Halo Infinite counterparts.
4. As for their accuracy. They were in a hallway. Hiding behind a makeshift barricade, aiming at least a dozen guns at the UNSC. Wouldn't be too much of a stretch to have them hit.
I will admit that I feel I did do wrong with how I went about that. But I'd appreciate it if you told me how you felt about the rest of the chapter as well. Not to dwell on one particularly bad moment.
Author's Notes:
I think I'll end this part here. Save some of the reactions to UNSC tech and culture for the next chapter. Apologies if this feels shorter than usual.
Next up would be the proper meeting. The UNSC and Tristainians finally being introduced in an official capacity.
I've been wanting to build up to this for a bit now. I hope it won't disappoint.
Update: Rewrote the chapter to fit in with my new canon. :)
If you have any suggestions or comments. Feel free to join the Discord server: /sDgJN8F4tY
Thanks for reading. And as always. I'll see you in the next one. じゃ、またね