Disclaimer: FoZ/ZnT belong to the departed Noboru Yamaguchi and whoever inherited the I.P.. Any real life organisation/person is merely being used in a fictional non-profit way.

Author's note:

This chapter wrote itself.

For those of you who don't understand why the secret agents were so hard on Saito, here's an explanation. An 18 year old guy in a foreign land helps you a lot. You find out he's got something on him that grants complete mastery of any weapon system you own. You know he's been living in that place for awhile and he's been busy doing things for the local authorities before you showed up. Who's to say that he's really on your side? Throw in the fact that the guy gets that ability of mastering any weapon from a magical set of runes that you don't understand… who says those runes don't just give him his abilities with weapons? For all you could know, those runes could also be used to control him from a distance.

Hence why the agents are paranoid and did what they did.

As for a space center visit… well here's the thing: Unlike the funeral, which served to show Earth that Henrietta and co. were decent human beings and boosting relationships between the nations, a visit to the space center, while cool, doesn't do much to advance the plot in my opinion. Our technology is already mind boggling enough for them. For example, modern fertilizers, medicine and mass production, while mundane for us, are things they can barely believe possible. There's no need to show off our orbital capabilities just yet. Both are much more relevant to show them than space travel which wouldn't help them all that much for the time being. It could make for a cool bonus chapter but that's gonna take a while.

Sowing the wind

Shock registered across Earth's newsrooms with news anchors losing their composure. The feed from the Coronation was interrupted as viewers everywhere saw cameras toppling to the ground and saw gunshots, spells and chaos on their television. News feeds in America, Canada, Britain, and around the world suddenly cut back to the studios, showing shocked staff members. But a few managed to stay online and aired the confusing scene that was happening in the other world.

Just what had happened?


The chaos unfolded seemingly everywhere in the Cathedral. Guards who had been standing against the walls suddenly attacked each other, rushed the Queen, or rushed into the crowd. Several robed figures in the crowd itself stood up brandishing wands threateningly towards the Queen or towards other mages.

A concentrated jet of water hit one of them and sent the assassin crashing into a nearby wall. Henrietta lowered her scepter as the sunlight from the midday sun shone on her from the stained glass of the cathedral.

"Agnes!" Her Musketeer guard was in front of her instantly, along with two others, their swords and pistols drawn. Agnes took aim and blew away an armored guard charging the new queen with a halberd.

It became apparent something was happening. A coup? An assassination? Whatever was happening, the scene became even more chaotic as American, British and Canadian guards drew their concealed weapons. The audience was rushing forward, most of them to protect the Queen, and others to kill her.

At the same time, the security details were trying to get their charges to safety. Many Tristainian nobles rushing to the front was knocked out of the way by broad shouldered members of either the American Secret Service, the RCMP, or Scotland Yard going the opposite way.

Suddenly, one of the armored guards appeared in front of Trump and his detail, weapon raised threateningly. A 9mm bullet hit the assassin at close range, splattering bits of blood and brain on the agents and even the POTUS.

"This was a new suit shitheads! Get me out of here now!" the President roared and cursed as he stumbled forward between his guards who were engaging hostiles, "Get'em!"

Many people were surging forward, but a few were surging after the retreating outworlders too.

Not far from Trump's group, Trudeau's security was trying to make a path out of the crowd for him. In the confusion where guards were looking in all directions, one of the assassins tried to rush the group at a momentary blind spot with a dagger. As the assassin closed the gap, he saw his quarry turn towards him… before seeing a fist entering his field of vision and blacking him out.

The assassin's head flew backwards with blood squirting from his broken nose while his dagger fell out of his hand before a short burst of shots ended his life. Trudeau had drawn on his boxing experience to punch the man.

"Good hook there M. Prime Minister," one of his guards said as he covered the blind spot. Trudeau nodded and fixed his tie as they moved.

The crowd of nobles and mages were constrained. Spells were powerful, but they weren't precise. In the densely packed mob, not many could safely cast combat magic. This ended up being many of their downfalls as the guards hacked away at them with swords and spears and other manners of weapons freely and with homicidal glee.

"Death to the unbelievers!" one of them shouted as he cut his way through the crowd, "Down with the false priest! Cromwell and the Holy Founder guide us!" Those seven words rang loud and sent cold terror down everyone's spines.

At the front of the chapel, at least ten assassins had cornered Henrietta and her guard. Agnes still stood defiantly in front of her, and the Archduchess and Cardinal were trying to shield their courageous Queen.

"What madness has befallen you?!" Mazarin shouted at them, "How dare you draw swords against your queen?!"

"Traitorous bastards." Agnes hissed as she tightened her grip on the sword and held it proudly.

"You are the traitors!" one of the assassins yelled back as he raised his sword, "Allying yourself with blasphemous powers! Brimir will punish for your sins!" Henrietta stared in horror at the mess the chapel had become. All of the armored guards still alive seemed to be attacking the nobles.

'How? How could so many of our people turned on us in an instant?' Henrietta thought grimly as she clutched her scepter firmly. She swore that she heard Cardinal Mazarin whisper "Forgive me Blessed Founder," as he reached into his robes.

One of them rushed Agnes with his spear. The Musketeer sidestepped with precision before slicing at the guard's vulnerable neckpiece.

"If any of you wish to harm her Majesty, you'll have to go through me!" she challenged fiercely as the assassin fell to the ground.

Just a little behind the throng, Saito was trying to shield Louise while his brother tried to make sense of the situation. Unable the cast magic without the risk of harming themselves or other nobles, the whole thing had degraded into a melee, swords being drawn and swung around.

"Louise!" a voice shrieked out.

"Mother!"

Looking over, Louise saw her parents draw their weapons. A single armored assassin charged, and with a flick of her swordwand her mother sent him flying with tremendous force into the wall before falling to the ground in a heap. The Duchess had to restrain herself despite her anger. Battlefield spells were too risky… as they could hit other loyalists.

"Get our daughter out of here boy!" Louise's father directed at Saito as he casted a spell that trapped an assassin in constricting vines.

"Yes sir!" Saito was surprised he managed to answer back.

"But her Majesty!" Louise shouted back, "I have to-"

"Louise, you are not staying here!" her father yelled back, "This is too dangerous for you!"

"You ready to fight partner!" Derflinger shouted from his scabbard.

"Shit shit!" Hayate cursed as he dove behind one of the benches as a stray spell passed over his head, "You guys have a plan Saito?!"

The two intelligence agents had also drawn their weapons. MP5 submachine guns rattled off at anyone wearing a suit of armor. They weren't moving out with their Commander in Chief. They were staying to deal with the assassins with the rest of the Tristainian loyalists.

"You two get-"

One of the agents took a spell that hit him squarely in the head with a piece of wall. The man flew like a ragdoll before landing near Saito, his gun clattering loudly onto the floor. Saito quickly crawled towards it and the unmoving agent. An idea ran through his head. Grabbing the MP5, his runes lit up. The weapon was still good to go. As much he hated it, the teenager searched the agent for ammunition.

Quickly spotting some of the assassins that were trying to hack their way to the front, Saito raised his weapon and started shooting while Derflinger was complaining that he couldn't see action. One the agents escorting Trump noticed Saito fighting his way out as he heard the gunshots.

"Get yourself out of here kid!" he shouted while he guided his president through the mess, "This ain't the time to be a fucking hero!"

"They still got those kids around?!" Trump exclaimed, impressed, as he spotted Saito and Louise.

Meanwhile, the British royals were being evacuated, their guards efficiently clearing a way through the panicked nobles and cutting down any assassins targeting them. Not all were rushing to the front. A few wanted to save their own skin, although a good portion of the ones fleeing were children and teenages told to do so by their parents.

"Come on!" Saito ordered to Louise and Hayate as he bagged another assassin that was about to blast a spell at Trump. Meanwhile, Louise's parents were using their magic and swords to clear their way forward to their new queen, their skills unmatched and their fury leading them forward.

Everything thus far, from the near assassination of Trump, to Trudeau knocking out an assassin, to spells flying everywhere, to some random kid picking up a gun and laying people out, had been broadcasted by a still standing cameraman near the back of the Cathedral. A reporter was still bravely standing and commenting the scene.

"Oh my God! I don't even know how to describe the chaos!" Ronny Marinin exclaimed as he watched the scene unfurl in front of him, "There's dead and injured everywhere! I can see some of our people making their way out!"

He and his cameraman ducked out of the way as a stray spell almost hit them.

"That was too close!" his cameraman exclaimed as he picked himself up.

"You ok Eric?!"

"Yeah, camera's still working too!"

"Are you two ok Ronny?!" a voice asked in the reporter's earpiece.

"Yeah!"

"Get yourselves out of there!"

"No way, we'll keep our heads down!," the reporter shot back as he picked himself, "This needs to be filmed!"

The reporter then pulled Eric back up and did his best to resume coverage. They were the eyes of Earth.


Meanwhile, Saito was running out of the Cathedral with Hayate and Louise as well as the rest of the crowd. The lovely, sunny weather outside contrasted harshly with the carnage that had just happened. The teen had been taking potshots at the assassins that the security details had missed in the chaos. As he reloaded, he saw another man in the crowd raise a wand towards a fallen, panicking reporter and his badly-injured cameraman, his camera lying on the nearby ground.

"Shit!"

Louise also saw the assassin. She clenched her wand firmly before yelling an incantation and casting her spell towards him. As usual, the spell exploded… and sent the soot-covered assassin flying hard before he landed hard on his head.

"Holy shit!" Hayate cursed out, "What kind of girlfriend did you get?!"

"What the hell was that?!" Trump roared as he saw the blast. The Secret Service agents looked around and saw Louise lowering her wand.

"Sir, it's one of the locals! She took down another hostile!"

"Good for them! I want-"

"M. President, just get in the limousine sir!"

Just then, a limousine screeched to a halt before the president and his guards. Trump barely had the time to breathe that he was shoved into the limousine. It wasn't long that the other leader and royals from Earth were spirited to the embassies where evac was waiting. Some of the agents returned inside to assist.

But in the Cathedral, blood was still flowing. The mass had separated enough that nobles were killing the assassins with ease and prejudice. Gunfire erupted as the agents returned to help. At least two duels had started with other assassin mages. At the front, Agnes was the only Musketeer still standing, bloody and hunched over, in front of around a dozen dead assassins. A few others layed charred from Mazarin's fire magic or knocked out cold from Henrietta and her mother's water and ice blasts.

"Anymore cowards wish to face me!" Agnes shouted out haggardly as she surveyed the scene for threats. There were none. The only assassins left were still in the crowd, being handled by the nobles. A few of the loyal, many wounded and bloody, came forward to boldly stand in front of Henrietta to shield her from the ilk that remained in the building. But the situation inside was nearly resolved. Upon noticing that none of the attackers still drew breath, Agnes allowed herself the luxury to collapse.

Outside was a different story; there were more assassins. As soon as the commotion had started in the building, hooded figures wielding crossbows had appeared on nearby rooftops, ready to kill anyone leaving. Then, at an alarming frequency, they started to fall, holes being blasted into their heads and torsos causing them to plummet to the ground below. Some had their throats slit or skulls caved in with extreme violence. Within a minute all of them were dead.

The Navy SEALS, SAS, and JTF-2 didn't let even a single one of them get a shot off. No one attacked their leaders and rulers without being punished. No one.


During the whole assault, the Tristanians who watched everything on the great viewing screens were horrified. A collective gasp was heard throughout the capital when the first blades were drawn at the Cathedral. They watched everything unfurl before them with horror. Their queen, nobles and their allies' leaders were being attacked in what was one of the most sacred events of their times. Many prayed for Brimir to protect them from harm as they saw the battle play out, no one peeling their eyes from the screen.

After all the intense moments, the final assassin fell and a small sigh of collective relief could be heard in the capital. By Brimir, the Queen was saved!


At the Academy, the students, teachers and servants were terrified. Not only at the scene they had witnessed but at the Earth soldiers' reaction. One moment, these men were happily eating, drinking and conversing with the Tristainians… the next was terrifying as the soldiers got angry and started yelling at the screen for their leaders' guards to kill all the assassins. Siesta shrunk in fear as she saw Brisebois roar in anger next to her, his drink falling to the ground. It was a stark contrast to the friendly and helpful men that had come to Tarbes looking for the Raiment.

A loud cry caught their attention. Looking over, they saw a blond teen with a frilly collar collapse to his knees in shock while a blonde girl tried to shake him. Tears were streaking down from his eyes.

"The God-Emperor lives! Eat it assholes!" an American soldier shouted madly, surprising the Tristainians watching the scene, "Y'all done goofed!"

"Holy shit, Trudeau actually has fucking balls!" a surprised Huynh yelled as he jumped up from his seat, "Eat it dipshits!"

"You're fucked now you fantasy fucks!"

"Cromwell mon ostie de tabarnak! On va te calisser une ostie de volée!"

Loud wailing caught some of the soldiers attention. Huynh turned his head over as he saw Guiche crying about his mother being dead into a blonde girl's arms.

A message came over the speakers before any of the Earth soldiers could rush over to the teen and comfort him.

"All personnel are to report to combat stations immediately!" the voice ordered. There wasn't a single complaint amongst the enlisted men as they all started running out of the academy grounds. ushered by their officers and their anger. Something their officers shared.

They already knew what was going to happen- the gloves were coming off.


"I want all available resources geared towards Albion's ports, now!" Colonel Hamilton yelled with authority as he stepped in the base's control room. The last three days had been busy. With the visit from the POTUS and other high ranking individuals from Canada and Britain, security over Tristain's airspace had been a key concern: Making sure no air traffic got dangerous close to the leaders of North America. This wasn't like Earth, where you could have fighters ready to intercept. Prevention was the key here.

Not that they were ignoring Albion, either. The idea the rogue kingdom could switch from clandestine to overt means of conflict were still considered plausible, so they kept watch. Aside form the occasional patrol, most of the ships stayed at the docks. It'd be quiet for the first two days of the leader's visit and through all the important talks.

But just today, at the same time the Cathedral in the Tristain capital was filling up, a report came in from intelligence agents on the ground that was quickly forwarded to the Colonels just minutes later. There were ground troops arriving in alarming numbers in Albion's ports. Tens of thousands of them. No word if they were embarking or not yet, but they could if they wanted to.

"They're building up. Can only be for one reason." Colonel Roberts stated.

"If they're going to invade, our leaders will be long gone before they make landfall." They'd be out of there even faster if they got word. But there wasn't a reason to stir the nest just yet until there was a verified threat.

They all stared at the enlarged radar display on the wall in front of them. There were around a dozen blips around the eastern tip of the country- the side facing them- patrolling. All were within 10 miles of land. But that was the only movement.

Devers and Harper appeared to both military officers. They'd stayed at the academy themselves for a week to watch Saito and Louise and then returned to the base to continue overseeing the larger intelligence operation. Teams from each country took turns watching the pair now.

"How long would it take those troops to board and the ships to make way?" Hamilton asked.

"Depends. Most of the troops were footmen and wear all their gear. The ships can be off as soon as they're all on board. But if they want to bring anything more than that like horses and cannons, they'll need a little more time." Devers explained. "A day at most for any reasonably sized army."

"The warehouses in the ports have been under heavy guard for the last three months. Could be supplies they'll start loading up. But for that many ships and that many troops? They'll need time." Harper added.

"Put all rotary assets on standby, put the troops on heightened alert." Hamilton ordered. The Canadian CH-146s were still here, although the Navy Seahawks had left for their homefleet along with the Seabees. In their place had arrived two UH-60L Blackhawks from a stateside Army Aviation Brigade. An upgraded version of the iconic aircraft, they could pack the same armaments as the naval variant.

"They're still watching the port?" He asked the agents.

"As close as they can without stepping on any toes. They'll be reporting in at 30 minute intervals. Next one is due in…" He checked his watch. "24 minutes."

Sometimes all you could do is hurry up and wait. The helicopters were fueled and armed, their crews on standby. Every soldier and MP on the base had their gear and were waiting for something to fall. In the nerve center, everyone watched for any other signs of activity. And on time has the agents as promised, another report came in.

"Reports came in from all teams." Devers started pointing to various ports. "Something is definitely up. We got footmen embarking on ships in all the ports. A large amount of cavalry at this port, canons here, and dragons here." He saved for last the closest port to them.

"They're embarking dragons?" Colonel Hamilton asked. They'd witnessed it only once from the Tristainians, but dragon riders, or any flying creature riders really, could launch from airships. It was like a fantasy version of an aircraft carrier. Dragons were fast and nimble- some of the breeds they'd been told, could reach up to 100 miles an hour without a rider, an impressive feat for this world. Fire dragons, which were widely bred, could breath fire. A mage riding on their back could fire spells off at anything in the air or on the ground.

They were considered to most threatening thing to North American forces in this world, at least while the lack of aircraft negated the good old American strategy of air superiority. They gave off a good heat signature and any infrared AA could easily acquire them, but they were still air assets. And in war, you were always cautious of air assets.

Hamilton's nostrils flared, a subtle sign of agitation. "Contact the Pentagon and NDHQ, tell them we have may be facing imminent attack. Get in contact with the party in the Capital and warn them." This might cause a political incident, but safety came first. They needed to get the POTUS out of there until things were safer. No sooner had the words left his mouth, and before either message could be sent, urgent shouting arrived from the communication section.

"Colonel, emergency transmission from the Capital! Someone's attacking the coronation!"

"Who?" The colonel demanded.

"We don't know. The comms are overloaded. It's chaos over there." The control room was in a flurry as they tried, in vain, to make contact or sense of what was going on. Then it got worse.

A junior agent appeared to Devers and Harper with news a transmission had been sent ahead of schedule, and they turned grim-faced to Hamilton. "Three ships loaded with dragons just departed from dock. Their heading puts them right towards us." Hamilton immediately ordered the radar operators to find them. Three tightly packed blips began to stand out, leaving Albion at a rapid pace.

"There dragons on those?" Roberts asked.

"There's a high probability."

"Send word back to Earth." Hamilton ordered calmly. They were all calm. They were and always had been ready for something like this.

Let Albion come. They would face them.


After the attack, Saito, Louise and Hayate had been brought to the palace by Louise's parents. As they entered their quarters, they all blew a sigh of relief. Saito put down the MP5 on a nearby table.

"I think we should change," Hayate suggested, "Get into something more comfortable."

Glancing at both of them, he grinned, trying to defuse the tension.

"You two are not changing in same the room by the way."

Louise blushed and glared at him and before entering her room while Derflinger snickered After a few moments, everyone was changed into more casual wear.

"Hey Hayate?" Saito asked as he collapsed in a chair while his brother crashed in a couch.

"Yeah?" he breathed, finally catching his breath for the first time of the day.

"Think that guard might have made it out?"

Hayate stopped.

"Shit."

He tried remembering how the whole scene played out. It was a bit hazy but the medical student remembered that the agent had been hit in the head with flying masonry and fell hard.

"Honestly, he could be… well dead," he finally answered glumly, "A hit like that probably gave him at least a commotion. If he's lucky, it'll be just that."

The mood was rather somber in the room.

"Hey, at least you guys are all alive and in one piece," Derflinger spoke up, "I suggest you rest a little. Things are gonna get hectic soon."

A knock caught their attention. Saito drew his MP5.

"Excuse me but can I come in? It's Ian Stanford."

"Yeah, you can!" Hayate replied as the door swung open revealing a man dressed with a light blue shirt and black pants. A plate carrier covered his chest and his eyes were hidden behind sunglasses. He looked surprisingly calm for all the chaos unfolding in the Capital.

"Happy to see you all in one piece," Stanford said as he entered, "Wanted to check if you were doing fine."

"Thank you," Saito answered flatly.

"But I should be the one thanking you both Lady Vallière, M. Hiraga," the agent said, "The others saw your little exploits at the coronation."

"Oh, I just did what I had to," Saito answered.

"Yes, it's the duty of the Vallière family to stand against the enemies of Tristain," Louise added proudly. She was quite happy to be praised for her deeds.

"That being said, I need that gun back." He said flatly, holding a hand out to Saito.

"Oh eum sure." the teen answered as he handed back the gun, "Excuse me but do you think that M. Devers and M. Harper would clear me for work again? I mean, I did help you and everything." Maybe that was a little tactless of him, but Saito just had to ask.

"I don't want to get your hopes up kid but I think they'll be able reconsider everything once this is all done."

The answer didn't please them but it was better than nothing.

"So what happens now?" Louise asked, "What will you do?"

"You kids don't worry about that." He said as he started to leave with the weapon in hand. "Leave it to the professionals."


Phones were ringing furiously in the Pentagon's war room while personnel were scurrying about. Mattis calmly picked up one of them.

"Hello Jim. You've seen what I've just seen?"

"Hello Harjit. Yes. We're raising all our forces in North America to higher readiness."

"Excellent. We're mobilizing all Reserve units and Montreal is under state of emergency as we speak. We'll contact you should we have anymore developments."

"Understood." Their exchange had been calm, collected, and simple despite the high stress situation. True professional officers.

Both men hung up as they returned to their task. Mattis exited the Pentagon while the Joint Chiefs and their staffs were busy coming up with plans for the whole crisis as well verifying what assets were available to them. As Mattis entered a limousine that was to take him to a secret, high security location, his phone rang.

"GET EVERYONE!" Trump ordered angrily over the phone as Mattis' limo sped off with police motorcycles surrounding it.

"An emergency meeting is being arranged right now. We hope to see you home soon, M. President. I assure you that everything is being handled over here."

"Good! I want to know what we can do against Cromwell for this! They're going to regret this day!"

"Yes, M. President. They will."


"We are unable to get any more news from Tristain right now besides that the attack has finally ended," a news anchor said, appearing back on the screen five minutes after the feed had been cut on what whatever happened, "The American and Canadian governments have not yet revealed any details about this attack."

A short woman was seething in her living room as she watched the news. She had been told by her sons to watch the coronation even if it was late into the night.

"There are going to pay for trying to hurt our sons!" Hiraga Nasu suddenly shrieked angrily, "Saito and Hayate are never leaving this house if they come here again!"

A dark menacing aura surrounded her. Anyone from Reconquista that crossed her path would meet a most terrible and painful death from threatening to harm her beloved sons.

"Saito you little rascal! You are grounded if you ever get back home!"

Meanwhile, Hiraga Ichika's jaw had dropped at what he saw…his youngest son taking down assassins and getting his loved ones out safely. He was torn between pride for Saito's bravery and anger that his sons were placed in such a dire predicament. He was sure his brother was raising a glass to Saito's deeds in the afterlife and cheering on his nephew; it was the exact same fighting spirit he'd had as a cop.

"Calm down dear," he tried to say to his wife. He was certain that the woman had popped a few veins in her forehead, "He got everyone out safely."

His wife fell to her knees and began sobbing about how both her sons were endangered. Her husband wrapped his arms around her and whispered words of comfort as best he could.


"Cromwell you bloody bastard!" was a phrase that resonated in many pubs and taverns across the United Kingdom and Ireland. The British government reacted like a kicked hornet's nest despite it being late in the evening. The Armed Forces were being put on alert. Parliament Members stopped whatever they were doing and prepared to head into work late.

Meanwhile, in Buckingham Palace, an elderly lady calmly ordered a servant to bring her a phone, her upper lip having stiffened considerably. She had not uttered a word since witnessing the attack on the telly. After dialing a number and waiting, someone answered. Yes, there was a crisis situation, but her number was not one to be ignored.

"Hello Prime Minister May," Queen Elizabeth II said calmly into the phone before sipping some tea.

"Good evening your Majesty," the Prime Minister replied, sensing the tranquil fury in her Sovereign's voice, "We are doing our best to coordinate with the Americans and Canadians. The princes are both safe."

"Splendid then, I have a small request for our brave fighting men and I shall be out of your hair."


People were reacting all over the world in all timezones for hours afterwards. Ten minutes after most of the feeds cut, an emergency UN meeting was already being arranged. Markets in North America, Europe, and Asia fluctuated terribly. In Tehran, despite being nearly midnight, parades erupted in the city streets, many ultranationalists cheering for Oliver Cromwell and Reconquista for close to an hour before government security forces mobilized to scatter them. ISIS fighters were celebrating in their strongholds as well when the news eventually reached them.

In the Pacific, South Korea and Japan went on sudden alert as North Korea government released a cryptic statement about being happy that no Earth leader was harmed but criticizing the American and Canadian presence in Halkeginia. The Chinese Central Committee called an emergency meeting. The Japanese cabinet also held an emergency meeting. The highest level of the government knew that they had two nationals in the Cathedral when everything went wrong… and were certain that one of them engaged the assassins.

In the Kremlin, Putin had already arrived from his private residence to handle any fallout to the international stage this would cause. In Western Europe, the European monarchs were appalled at what they saw. Defiling a coronation was unacceptable in their mind. Emmanuel Macron and Angela Merkel had called emergency meetings with their ministers and had sent directives to their ambassadors in Canada and the United States. All members of NATO realized what this could mean; Brussels, despite the late hours, was abuzz with activity as NATO's headquarters filled with people.


Henrietta sat soberly in her Palace. The young queen had been rushed back to the building but not before sending a reassuring message to the media thanks to the last standing reporter, Ronny Marinin. Her message had been short.

"My subjects and allies. I ask of you not to worry. This vicious attack has been thwarted and no leaders from any nation have been harmed. The perpetrators have been defeated by our forces and our allies. I ask all of Tristain's people remain strong in this difficult time. By the grace of Brimir, we shall overcome."

That was as much as she could say before her mother and the Cardinal ushered her out of the bloody hellscape the sacred building had become. Agnes was being carried away by the nobles, having been stabilized by Henrietta herself.

The door to her office opened, revealing a weary looking Delage. He had been at the Palace's infirmary for the past hours.

"Your Majesty," he began gravely, "We have a list of those injured and dead."

"I wish to see it."

Delage nodded before handing her the list. She recognized the names and sighed bitterly. A few sprung up. Lady de Grammond was killed by a sword blow while Count de Grandpré had been injured by a spell. General Du Poitier had a close call and was lying in bed for a broken arm. The Vallière had come out uninjured. Her mother as well. But many of of Tristains noble families had suffered today. Some worse than others.

"Albion will pay for this." She muttered darkly. There could be no doubt they were behind this. The traitors' words rang in her ears again.

"Yes your Majesty. Do we have word from the Americans and Canadians?" Delage asked. Henrietta shook her head.

"Not yet. They are concerned about their leaders. I saw some of their wounded being cared for in the Cathedral." The assassins had attacked their media too. What horrible acts.

A ring caught their attention. Henrietta picked up the phone. It was an Earth invention; they'd installed one recently so her and the ambassadors could talk without constant meetings. They also showed her how to use it. The queen put it on speaker mode so Delage could hear.

"Hello your Majesty." She recognized Ambassador Ambroise's voice but it was filled with concern. "Are you okay?"

"I am quite tired but unharmed Ambassadors. Thank you for your worry. Did your leaders escape harm?"

"They are fine both of them," a third voice came in, "Greetings your Majesty."

"Greeting Ambassador Fitzgerald."

"Let's get to business," the American asked seriously, "Albion agents clearly infiltrated the ceremony. Do you have any suspects?"

Henrietta nodded.

"Currently, it would be Count Mott. He was arrested two months ago for collusion with Albion, but I fear that he might have some accomplices that were well hidden away."

"I see."

"I will ride out with my guards to his mansion," Henrietta stated, "We will search for anything unusual."

"Who was in charge of security?" Fitzgerald asked. "The reports are sketchy, but it says the guards attacked the guests?"

"The guards and some nobles within the crowd." Henrietta explained, "It was Minister Richemont."

"Where is he right now?" The Ambassador asked tensely. Henrietta wasn't sure. She'd seen him at the start of the coronation, but not after the attack started.

"I saw him." Delage stated, "A guard approached him and whispered something apparently urgent and he left. Not all of our security was traitor- many loyal guards were slaughtered by their comrades before they moved on to attack you. If I had to make a guess, Richemont was led away under false pretenses so he couldn't rally those loyal guards.."

"He may be in danger then." Henrietta realized with horror. If so many of his other guards were traitors, the ones he took with him could very well be luring him away to slit his throat. The Count and Richemont had always been close friends; Mott could've had any number of opportunities to turn his men against him. Losing her experienced Justice Minister would be a bad blow to her kingdom.

"That's unfortunate." Ambroise sounded sympathetic. "We'll inform our leadership of this. Please, your Majesty, keep us informed on what happens. Our leaders want closure on this and Prime Minister Trudeau has told me that some of his guards are available to help in your endeavours."

"President Trump has told that me that our forces are available to assist as well," Fitzgerald said.

"Thank you, Ambassadors."

"When are you leaving?"

"Within the hour." Henrietta stated, noticing the alarm on Delage's face. Old habits die hard; the former members of her regency council were still concerned for her well being.

"Very well, we will provide you with transportation. We'd prefer if this was resolved before the day was over."

"Minister Delage, have the noble armies secure the capital and borders," Henrietta ordered, "Please bring Lady Louise-Françoise Le Blanc de La Vallière and M. Hiraga Saito here. I have need of them." She turned her attention back to the phone. Delage nodded before exiting.

"Ambassadors, I promise I will call you later tonight with news on what has happened."

"Thank you, your Majesty. And good luck."

"We'll stay in touch your Majesty."

Henrietta nodded before the line cut. She took a moment to catch her breath. It had been barely a few hours that she was queen that she had been thrust into a crisis that started as her new crown was placed upon her head. She hoped that her decisions had been the right ones. The door opened again, revealing Louise, Saito and Hayate being led by Minister Delage. They all curtsied before Henrietta.

"Thank you for being Louise-Françoise, M. Saito," Henrietta said tiredly, "I have need of your help. Do you wish to help me as well Hayate?"

Hayate cleared his throat and nodded.

"Yes your Majesty," he answered confidently, "I wish to assist your healers with the injured."

"Minister Delage, please guide him to the Hospital wing," Henrietta commanded,

"I would like to see if the Canadians can allow the rest of my team to come and help," the medical student added, "Is there anyway for me to talk with the Canadian authorities."

Henrietta nodded and dialed the Canadian Embassy.

"Yes, Ambassador Ambroise? I have a request for you."


Trudeau was the first to get back to his capital. The ride back to Montreal International for a speedy flight back to Ottawa was fast with the streets clear of almost all traffic. The car ride from Ottawa's airport was slightly more eventful as thousands of concerned citizens came out to see him taken back to safety. His Ministers were already waiting for him there.

"Welcome M. Prime Minister," Sajjan said as they entered National Defense Headquarters, "We hope the trip back was smooth."

"Very much, thank you for worrying. What's the situation?" Trudeau asked as they walked, "Has anything changed in Tristain?"

"The Queen is safe." Freeland answered. "She's already investigating the situation- they have a suspect."

"I see. What's happened here on Earth in the last few hours?"

"Our allies have been holding emergency meetings," the Foreign Minister stated, "We'll have more news in the coming hours."

"The press want a conference as soon as possible," Goodale added, "Right now, they're not only furious you got attacked but also that their reporters got attacked. They're all safe at the embassy right now. A few injured, but that's all. No one from earth seems to have been killed."

"There's an important security matter to discuss." Sajjan interjected. "We got word from the Joint Base just before the Cathedral attack."

"Yes?" Trudeau asked, dread evident in his voice.

"Thousands of Albionian troops have begun massing in their ports since the start of the day. A few ships left dock and made way in the direction of our base before stopping. They've been there the past few hours."

"Is an invasion imminent?" Trudeau demanded.

"We don't know just yet," Sajjan reported, "But it makes sense- decapitate the Tristain and our leadership and take over in the chaos. I've discussed it with Secretary Mattis. We recommend that more ammunition and supplies are to be delivered to the base. Extra men would be a possibly as well."

"The Queen is still alive though. They might not go through with it."

"Not a risk we can take. If Tristain falls, so does our border." Trudeau was quiet and contemplative for a moment, then he made his decision.

"I want the outpost and the base reinforced. Can we enact any emergency deployment plans if needed?"

"We've had ones in place for months now." Sajjan confirmed. "We can have infantry, artillery, and vast quantities of supplies across the portal in only a few hours."

"Good." Trudeau nodded as they entered a crisis room.

At the same time that Trudeau was on his flight, Air Force One was leaving for Washington D.C. The American President was seen to by medical staff and declared unharmed. The president had argued that he was fine all along the examination.


The pilot was making for US soil as fast as possible. Trump wasn't going to wait to arrive; he grew impatient a few hours in and had a video call set up right there on the plane. Back in the Capital, his Cabinet was already gathered and waiting in a secret location.

"M. President, are you alright?!" There was alarm in their voices when Trump appeared on their screen wearing a suit covered in blood and brain matter.

"I'm fine. Secret Service did their jobs unlike that damned Richemont!" He fumed. "These Reconquista bastards have gone too far this time. We are not going to stand for this."

"No sir, we will not." Mattis agreed. "We received important information while you were being extracted. Albion has started massing troops at their ports. A few ships started approaching our base as the attack started, but stopped midway. It seems like this was a decapitation attempt before they moved in to occupy Tristain. I can only assume they've stopped since the assassinations failed."

"Those assholes! I want that base reinforced then!" He ordered. "And get us some goddamn planes over there." These people wanted to play? They'd get some bombs dropped on their heads then!

"We'll have to contact the Canadians for that," Secretary of State Pompeo pointed out, "I've received word that Trudeau has just arrived in Ottawa and is meeting with his cabinet."

"Contact them then!"

"Yes M. President!"


A phone rang in NDHQ's crisis room before being picked up by a staff member.

"M. Prime Minister, it's President Trump and his Cabinet."

"Put him on phone conference." Trudeau ordered with a hand gesture.

"M. Trudeau, we're ready to ship planes through!" Trump declared boastfully, "I think we've held back long enough."

"Glad to know you're alright." Trudeau responded kindly, noting that Trump was gung-ho as usual; the two world leaders had been whisked away separately..

"Yes, yes, I'm fine," Trump groaned, "We don't have time to waste! My boys and yours are already under threat with those flying ships off the coast of Tristain."

"I know. I've ordered reinforcements and supplies to be sent there," Trudeau calmly replied, "Queen Henrietta is also leading an investigation as well."

"Good, we're doing the same but I want retaliation. The American people want retaliation," Trump insisted.

"M. President, I think we need to decide, before any armed action, is whether or not we view this as an act of war." Pompeo said. The implications of a full blown war were numerous, to say nothing of the absurdity that the first openly declared war either nation had been involved in since WWII would be in a whole other world.

"Indeed Secretary Pompeo," Minister Freeland replied, "It is not something we can decide lightly."

"It's an act of war by all means, but it wasn't directed specifically at us." Pompeo pointed out to Trump who was fuming.

"There's gotta be something we can do to tell them that they've gone too far!" Trump insisted. In D.C, Mattis hung out of the conversation to take a call.

"Might I suggest aerial fly over of their capital?" Sajjan proposed, "Our jets will be probably be more than just intimidating to them. We can also conduct reconnaissance that way."

"Screw a fly over. I say we bomb that Palace Cromwell is sitting in while letting the people in his country starve."

"M. President, I just got off the phone with the British Defense Secretary. I believe he'll be calling you, M. Sajjan, next." Mattis spoke up. "They want in on whatever we're planning. They also wanted to be the ones to torch Cromwell's palace."

"That's some great news!"

"The Princes escape unharmed but her Majesty was quite angry at Oliver Cromwell according to Defense Secretary Williamson. She was quite horrified that someone attacked her grandsons and ruined Queen Henrietta's coronation," Mattis said, "She made a request to the British Armed Forces to not let this go unanswered."

"The whole Commonwealth has our backs on this," Minister Freeland added, "NATO's also meeting as we speak."

"That's good news," Trudeau said.

"We also got news that Queen Henrietta is personally leading the investigation efforts," Sajjin said this more for the Americans' benefit. "They're closing in on the suspect with their own forces and some of ours."

"That cleans up Tristain, but not Albion. The next few days are going to be very long." Trudeau stated, "If you'll pardon me but I'll have to call for an emergency meeting in Parliament."

"Very well M. Trudeau," Trump replied, "We'll continue this conversation once I'll land in Washington." They'd already agreed at least on reinforcing the garrisons in Tristain. The rest, though, would be discussed later.


Mott sighed happily as he sipped on a glass of wine. He'd enjoyed the last months of not having to work- a long break from his duties granted by the Justice Minister for his faithful service to the Kingdom. He had stayed at his mansions for weeks, enjoying good food, wine and women. The minister had even given him guards to ensure that he would be undisturbed by anyone.

His respite was suddenly broken when he heard loud roaring sounds outside. Looking out the window, the Count saw a long convoy of the Outworlders' war wagons.

"Guards?" he called out nervously, "What is happening?"

Mott heard running in the hallways but no answers. And then two guards came into the room. "What's is happening?" He repeated. The guards didn't answer. One locked the door, and the other lowered his weapon at the Royal Messenger.


As the convoy of armoured cars approached the manor, the lead vehicle's crew and passengers couldn't help but feel nervous. Something was clearly off.

A group of armed men formed up in front of the manor's gate. They were not expecting outworlders to show up. One of them shouted orders as they lowered their pikes threateningly. The lead vehicle slowed to a stop before them. They suddenly heard a familiar voice coming from one of the vehicles.

"This is Queen Henrietta! I demand that you let us through. This is a Royal Investigation! Anyone hindering us shall be punished accordingly."

The guards looked at each other in bewilderment. The Queen? She was supposed to be dead! Their master had said so. One nodded at another in silent understanding and started approaching the vehicle the Queen's voice had echoed from. He saw her through a window and drew his pistol. He fired- and the ball harmlessly bounced off the window.

"Contact!" One of the outworlders yelled. One of them, manning a massive musket mounted on one the carriages further back, took aim and opened fire on the guard, shredding his body to a bloody mess in seconds. Some of the musket-armed guards opened fire but their weapons did nothing but scratch the paint of the armoured cars.

Suddenly, all the carriages surged forward- right towards the grouped guards. Several were ran down as they smashed right through the front gate, their pikes shattering on impact with the heavy vehicles. Those who weren't were taken down by the carriage mounted muskets.

The long line of vehicles stopped inside the courtyard, disgorging not only North American Special Forces teams, but Henrietta, her mother, her two friends and over a dozen living Musketeers.

"Secure the building! Go! Go! Go!" The shout went out as they began storming the manor. Gunfire started ringing out shortly after, occasionally mixing with small explosions and bright flashes of light.

Tristain's new queen followed her allies and her troops into the vast house. Her stride was long, her face emotionless but hard. One hand stayed firmly on the hilt on the sword in her sheath. Being a ruler meant dealing harshly with traitors in your midst, and she fully intended to deal with this one. As they walked, they could see the traitorous guards lying dead. Several had been shot by muskets or stabbed by swords, but others had much cleaner holes drilled into their chests or foreheads. Whatever training the Americans and Canadians had… it was efficient. The manor had once again fallen silent save for the shouting of infantry from all three nations soldiers as they declared the area secured.

One of them walked up to Henrietta's party.

"Your Majesty! You won't believe what we've found!"

"Speak quickly."

"It's Count Mott," the man reported, "One of his guards tried to kill him as we got to his quarters."

"How is this possible?" Archduchess Marianne exclaimed, "He was imprisoned, was he not?"

"Mott will tell us how he got here." Henrietta stated firmly. If he'd turned the Justice Ministers troops against him, it was likely he had them bring him back to his manor.

Her and her entourage climbed the steps to Mott's quarters. They found the Royal Messenger dressed casually- and covered in the blood of one of his assassins. The Earth soldiers had forced the man to his knees.

"Princess Henrietta!" He exclaimed when he saw her. "Thank Brimir for you and the outworlders arrival. I was nearly-" His words died in his throat as Henrietta pulled her sword and held it an inch from his nose.

"What do you have to say in your defense traitor?!"

"T-traitor?" Mott spluttered, "W-what is the meaning of this?"

"The coronation was attacked by Albionian agents. You were the last person placed under arrest for colluding with Reconquista."

"Coronation? Arrest?" Mott was visibly confused.

"Minister Richemont had you arrested for treason because you supplied the date of our visit to Clément-sur-Mer to Cromwell's agents!"

"What?!" He sounded outraged. "I did no such thing!" He gulped as the blade pressed closer to his face. "Princess-"

"Queen." Henrietta corrected. "I was coronated earlier today."

"And I wasn't invited or told?!" Mott forgot his place and sounded insulted.

"You told Albion of it!" Henrietta accused.

"I did no such thing!" Mott shook his head desperately. "I've have been enjoying the half-year break from my duties you asked Minister Richemont to give me!" The room suddenly went deathly quiet. Henrietta's eyes, angry and focused, became wide.

"I never gave you any break from your duties," she stated quietly, her sword lowering slightly. True, she hadn't been using her Royal Messenger often- with the embassies and Earth technology, his services weren't as needed. But she certainly hadn't excused him either.

"That's impossible," Mott argued, "The Minister told me himself!"

Henrietta realized what this could mean. "Stand." She ordered, pointing her sword at him again. Mott slowly did so. "Tell us what Minister Richemont has said to you in the last months. Every word." She ordered.


Agnes had woken up not long after being moved to the Palace's vast medicine wing. Her Majesty had done a perfect job healing the wounds she'd suffered. They'd healed, but it didn't restore the Musketeer Captain's sapped energy.

Once she'd learned the Princess had left to investigate the traitor who'd organized the attack, she'd nearly forced herself from the bed with the intention of grabbing a horse and chasing after them. It had taken the urging of all the palaces water mages and even First Minister Delage, who'd stayed behind to manage the crisis while Henrietta went to pay blood for blood, to convince her to stay in bed. So that's what she did, although scarcely because she desired to do so.

'Damn them. Damn them all!'

The women had watched Henrietta for much of her early life. She was not like most nobles at all. She was kind. She was compassionate. She would go down in history as one of Tristain's greatest rulers. And they'd tried to kill her.

She heard strange chopping sounds from outside that reminded her of the outworlders' airships. Glancing out her window, Agnes noticed the American and Canadian soldiers disembarking from their helicopters… followed by people dressed in white clothes carrying boxes with them. The newcomers were running into the palace, a sense of urgency on their faces.

She could hear what some were saying. That they were hear to help. That they were healers from the armies and from a group of medical students.

Agnes was far from the only wounded person in the palace; there were dozens. The wing was full of people either moaning in agony or of doctors and water mages hurrying around. Cardinal Mazarin was going around and giving comfort or final rites in front of grief stricken relatives. Despite that, there was an extremely distinct sound that carried through the hall Agnes immediately picked up- singular footsteps. And not just any footsteps, the kind the American and Canadian soldiers' boots made.

But it was not a soldier that appeared at the foot of her bed, it was one of their spies dressed vaguely like a soldier. He even had one of their rifles on his back. He approached her bedside.

"You're Anges- the leader of the Queen's guards?" Anders asked quietly.

"Yes." She sat up.

"Can you stand?" He asked, and Agnes sensed urgency in his voice.

"I can." And she did just that, swaying slightly before righting herself. "Is something required of me?" The spy nodded.

"We're going to confront the man possibly responsible for the attack on the coronation. We want a Tristainian present as witness." Agnes' eyes widened.

"I will accompany you." She did not accept; she demanded.

"Good." The man nodded quietly and then did something strange- he handed her the pistol on his waist. "Only shoot it if you need to." He said as she marveled the object. "Come on." Agnes followed the man, and none of the healers questioned her being out of bed while she followed him. She saw another one of them pulling a wounded comrade of theirs out of bed and onto one of their stretchers. The man seemed to have suffered a head injury.

There were five more spies waiting outside, some dressed like soldiers and some in normal suits. All were armed. "We have her with us." The spy who'd retrieved her spoke into his instant communication device. "We're confronting the suspect now." He set it down and waved to the others. "Let's go!" They started moving, and Agnes followed.

"Who is responsible?" She asked.

"We think it might be Minister Richemont." He told her.

"The Justice Minister?" That was a daring accusation to make. Agnes wasn't a fan of the man, true; he'd been one of Henrietta's staunchest opposers while a member of the Regency Council. But he'd served King Henry and the Kingdom faithfully for years. "How did you come to suspect him?"

"As far back as the pirate attack. It struck us as suspicious he alone was not present when it happened. We watched him for a while, but couldn't find anything concrete. Just a lot of paperwork and social gatherings. Now his guards not only turned on the kingdom, but he was lucky enough not to be there either? It's too perfect."

"It is." Agnes agreed with cold anger as the possibilities dawned on her.

"We spotted him a few minutes ago coming to the palace. He hasn't gone to check if the queen if okay. In fact, he's packing up like he's going somewhere."

"That bastard." Agnes snarled.

"We have no idea who we trust right now. You're the only one here we can verify as loyal." The Capital was swarming with soldiers and nobles, but they'd come to her, a commoner. "Right now, we just want to know where he's been."

"He'll answer for more than that."

"Good."

As they exited the hospital wing, the agent gave her a crash course on the weapon, a SIG Sauer M17. Agnes could appreciate the fine workmanship put into the weapon… as well as the clear improvements over her old flintlock pistols.

The group moved hastily through the Royal Palace's busy hallways, radiating tense hostility.


Richemont was sweating profusely as he stumbled around his office, trying to gather all the sensitive papers and documents he had left there.

'Damn it. DAMN IT!'

Things were not going as planned. Henrietta and the rest of council was alive. The accursed Earth leaders and princes were still alive as well. Henrietta was not only queen, but now she had the whole kingdom rallying behind her in light of the attack. Richemont cursed the Earth media for showing it to everyone. Ha dared not imagine how the Earth leaders would react, remembering his little meeting with the American President earlier.

He grabbed as many documents as he could, hoping he could salvage the situation before Cromwell and Reconquista invaded. At the very least, he could escape retribution.

The crown… The crown was on that ridiculous brat's head now! It should have been his! He was the stronger leader! All his work had been for naught! Everything he did was ruined. He had been so close to getting his place in the sun, so close to ruling Tristain once Reconquista arrived. They'd promised him the throne once they took over. He cared not for their crusades or what else as long he ruled over Tristain.

Maybe...maybe it was still possible. The invasion was still coming, surely? He'd hide out till the Reconquista armies took over Tristain, and he'd still be the new king.

Right?

"Minister Richemont!" The voice was far too friendly in its tone for his liking.

He jumped and spun around. Standing in the hallway outside his office were several of the outworlder spies- and the still-living Captain of the Musketeers. Their strange weapons were drawn but aimed at the floor. The minister cursed that the fact that, in his panic-induced haste, he forgot to close the door.

"I hope you are doing fine? It has been a rather tiring day no?" the leader asked casually as he stared directly into the man's eyes.

"Yes." Richemont breathed out. His chest was heaving. His face covered in sweat. Even he knew how suspicious he looked.

How?! How had they figured out to approach him?

"I must admit that it must be tiring for a man of your age," Agnes commented, "All of that running around and fighting off assassins that passed off as your men."

"Yes, it was truly a difficult day," Richemont answered, still sweating, "One that was quite taxing."

"I did not see you at the front guarding the Queen." Agnes' eyes narrowed.

"I'm sure that Minister Richemont isn't quite a skilled fighter like you Captain Agnes. Not every man can be an example of courage and martial prowess," the agent commented politely and turned back to Richemont, "But you caused a lot of concern- no one could find you after the attack ended and we were quite worried you know?."

"Yes, well, I had to return and find out if anymore of my men were committing treason," Richemont argued, "We did not need anymore traitors wreaking havoc on us did we?"

"The Queen is looking for you- have you at least been to see her yet?" One of the agents asked.

"Yes, yes." He said impatiently, hoping to get them out of his hair quickly. "I spoke to her ten minutes ago about my efforts." They all glanced at each other, and Agnes' eyes narrowed dangerously. She suddenly strode into the office.

"You lying traitor!"

"What is the meaning of this?!" Richemont shouted back angrily as all of them suddenly intruded into his office, "How dare you insinuate such a thing?!"

"The Queen left over an hour ago to search Count Mott's property for clues on how Albion infiltrated the coronation!" Agnes snapped, and Richemont suddenly lost all his composure. His face went white. His hands started shaking as he braced himself on his desk with one hand.

"Where were you, really?" One of the agents asked. They all started to raise their weapons. Richemont knew that if the Queen found Mott alive at his home, they'd discover his lie. He mentally prayed that his men would buy him enough time and remove the Royal Messenger from the equation. He had to make it out of here before then, but that meant getting rid of these people. So he swallowed his pride and tried to lie his way out of it again.

"Oh fine." He sounded ashamed, his eyes downcast. "I...I fled and hid."

"Hid?" the agent asked, almost mockingly, "Really minister?"

"Y-yes," Richemont was acting as cowardly as he could, "I was afraid that the assassins would come after me so I-I ran for a secure hiding spot in the capital. I recognize the foolishness of my actions, but I am here now!" He insisted. If they imprisoned him for desertion, he was doomed.

"Where is this 'secure hiding spot'?" Agnes demanded. Richemont stammered as he tried to come up with a believable answer, but he was cut off.

One of the outworlders communication contraptions started blaring, a voice asking for a response from any American or Canadian assets still in the Capital. The agent answered, and an order blared out over the speaker for the entire room to hear.

"Search of suspect's property has revealed conflicting evidence. The Queen is returning to the Capital. She's ordered Justice Minister Pierre-Étienne de Richemont to be found and held until she arrives. Make contact with any local forces and get it done."

"That won't be necessary." The agent radioed back, eyes locked with Richemont's. All the guns were pointed at him now. "We're with the Captain of the Musketeers and the Justice Minister is right in front of us."

"Agnes?" Now it was Henrietta's voice on the radio.

"Yes your Majesty?"

"We've found Count Mott in his manor. His guards tried to assassinate him. Richemont has been lying to us. Do not let him escape."

"Yes, your Majesty." She called back. "He'll be bound in your throne room when you return-"

"This is preposterous!" Richemont's voice was hoarse. "I am being framed! Mott is the traitor!"

"Put your hands in the air. Now!" The agent ordered as he gripped his weapon tightly.

"I've served this Kingdom for over 30 years! I was a faithful advisor to his Majesty King Henry during the hardest times of his reign!"

"And you will serve it and Queen Henrietta no longer." Agnes took a step towards him, pistol held out in front of her.

"DAMN ALL OF YOU OUTWORLDERS TO HELL!" Richemont pulled out his wand and threw a water spell at the group before him. A massive wave overtook the office, soaking countless papers and furniture and sloshing into the hallway. It also knocked the group on the ground. If their powder got wet, they couldn't shoot and he could have time to get a more powerful spell out. At least that's what he thought until a gunshot rang out. He didn't register anything else after the first bullet struck him dead center in the head. A few more rounds struck him before his body hit the ground.

"Goddamnit!" The lead agent swore as they picked themselves up. They'd hoped to restrain him- press him for information on Albion. He'd drawn too fast for them to react though. Agnes looked unconcerned with the corpse she'd just created, having managed to recover fast enough to get off the first shot.

"Is everyone ok over there?!" a voice came over the radio.

"Yeah we're fine. The bastard gave us a nice cool shower before going down though." the agent replied, "Tried to fight us with magic and escape but Captain Agnes put a stop to his crap."

"Dead?"

"Yes, unfortunately." The agent looked around the room. "Might've destroyed some evidence, too. But we'll search his office."

"Keep it locked down till we get back. Get the local forces to secure his residence too."

Agnes nodded.

"I'll task my Musketeers immediately." Agnes told the agents. Many had died today, but not all of them. "Do you want your pistol back?"

"Hang on to it for now." the agent said, "I'll take it back when everything's calmed down. Good shot by the way."

Agnes nodded.

"I will go summon a mage," she said, "They can use their magic to dry out the office quickly so we won't lose too much evidence."

"Right. Thanks." The agent nodded. The Musketeer Captain left. "What a fucking mess." The agent muttered, looking at Richemont's bullet-riddled corpse again.


Cromwell was in his quarters aboard the Lexington, the last surviving ship of the line in Albion and proud flagship of the Reconquista fleet. It was going to be the ship leading the attack on Tristain's capital, but now it was flying back through the early morning darkness to bring Albion's ruler to the capital Londinium.

Oliver Cromwell, successful overthrower of the House of Tudor and the Lord-Protector of Albion was a mess. All his undertakings had been failures, and this was the biggest of all. It had been 18 hours since his assassins had failed Albion and the Founder. Tristain was on alert and would meet his armies head on if he still launched the invasion. It was by far his most spectacular failure against that tiny nation. Had he upset the Founder Brimir? Was he being punished for something?

"But Lord-Protector," Sheffield insisted, "We must still invade Tristain! Even if the assassination failed, Henrietta must be cowering in her palace right now!" He'd left the assembled armies with scarcely a word to fly back to the Capital. Sheffield had spent most of the flight trying to convince him to go back.

"All of Tristain is up in arms and ready to fight." Cromwell retorted, "What if her allies from the other world send more troops? There are no more words from my top spy- I can only assume he was been caught. We have no advantage."

"We have numbers! And the Founder's blessings."

The Founder's blessings. Something that Cromwell had during his revolution. The thing that had kept him going through hardship after hardship, failure after failure until the loyalist forces finally cracked. All the small miracles that he was sure could only be from Brimir himself.

But what did he have now? All these failures could only mean he'd lost divine favor, right?

His musings were interrupted when a knock came on his door. He ordered whoever it was to enter. It was the captain of the Lexington with another man next to him. Both looked troubled.

"Lord-Protector, we've reached Londinium. There's something you must see." He insisted.

"What?"

The man next to the captain spoke.

"We do not know how but the Republican Palace has been burned to the ground during the night," he explained nervously, "All of the guards are dead as well!"

Cromwell's jaw almost dropped and he pushed past the men to reach the deck. The captain followed him. This was a calamity that he could not understand. Capturing the Palace had been one of the greatest moments of the revolution, the thing that did a large part to cement his legitimacy.

As he reached the deck, he could see smoke rising from the palace's site. The captain of the Lexington handed him a telescope and Cromwell saw the disaster that had befallen him. Bright orange flames were visible at multiple points in the building. Parts of it had already collapsed. Even if they put out the fire, the Palace would never be usable again.

"Lord-Protector… has your faith in our Holy Founder wavered?" Sheffield's voice crept into his ears, almost taunting him.

"No," he vehemently denied, "It has not."

"Then why has Brimir cast this tragedy upon you? Upon Albion?" Sheffield challenged. Cromwell was silent but for a moment.

"This is a test of our faith in Him," he concluded, "A challenge for us. Something to avoid complacency."

The revolutionary leader wasn't sure if his words were meant to convince Sheffield or himself. He ordered the Lexington to land as soon as they could and a carriage to be made ready for him. Riding through the streets, Cromwell did his best to maintain an aloof façade in front of his subjects, thousands of whom had taken to the streets to stare in horror and despair at the symbol of their country's new destiny being reduced to a pile of ashes.

Fear gripped the capital of the Holy Albion Republic as well… how had their Holy Founder not protected them against such a tragedy? The sinners had already been punished… did this mean that some still walked amongst the pious?

His carriage stopped at the Palace gate where he saw Water mages doing their best to contain the blazing fire. Viscount Jean-Jacques Wardes walked up to his leader, his face grim.

"Lord-Protector, we don't know happened. Whoever did this left almost no evidence of their presence and was skilled enough to have slain every guard without us knowing."

"Did you find anything Viscount Wardes?" Cromwell asked wearily. Wardes nodded and handed a small paper to his lord.

"We've found this note on your statue." A great one had been raised at the front of the palace to celebrate his victory.

Cromwell eyed it oddly before noticing the writing.

'To M. Cromwell. Sorry we missed you.'

P.S. Good tidings from the Queen.

He almost dropped it in shock. For a moment, he thought they meant Henrietta. But that couldn't be; only the outworlders' blasphemous means could've done this. His spy had mentioned one of their nations had a queen and that her grandsons were attending the coronation. They must've struck in the night.

"The outworlders have no respect for Brimir's wishes." Sheffield warned him. "Look at what they've done. They'll do this to all of Albion before too long." Then she drove her point home. "Unless you act."

Cromwell realized what this meant. The spying had by some miracle been overlooked, but the outworlders would not stand for this. They would come for vengeance. For him. For Albion. War had to be unavoidable now. And if he didn't go to them, then they would come to him. This was no longer a matter of the Founder- it was about his own life.

And if Brimir's favor returned to him for his daring, he could surely defeat Tristain regardless. And that portal...he need only destroy it. Surely the Founder wanted that too. He filled with resolve.

"Take me back to the Lexington!" He ordered the carriage driver.


Richemont had been the traitor, and Mott but a pawn and a possible scapegoat.

Yesterday, the Royal Messenger had blabbered on to them for hours like his life depended on it. It very well might have.

As it turned out, Richemont had talked to Mott as soon as he came back from Canada, before he even talked to Henrietta. The Justice Minister had been secretly funneling information on the kingdom's happenings to Albion, disguised as his normal paperwork. They'd found drafts he meant to send to prove as much. Sadly, the way he got them to Albion had been lost with his life.

Some vestige of Albion spies or traitors may have remained in Tristain. Agnes suspected hidden a secret network of traveling pigeons, but there was no way to know for sure..

Once the Americans and Canadians had started helping her sort out corruption, Richemont had taken steps to set up Mott as someone to take the fall in case it was realized Albion knew things only a Tristainian could know. He'd even had men watching him on his behalf. The Justice Minister and Royal Messenger had been friends for years, the elder man publicly setting up Mott as his successor. But rather then bring him to his cause, Richemont had set him up as a potential sacrifice. Mott had been aghast when he realized the betrayal and collapsed in shock.

Speaking of the Royal Messenger, he was under house arrest. Official house arrest. True, it was apparent he'd been set up, and they'd turned his house over without finding anything, but the simple fact was they couldn't confirm if he was really trustworthy. And that weighed heavy on Henrietta on top of all the other happens of the moment, like the fact Albion was massing troops at the border.

War had always been a possibility, but now it seemed to be inevitable. It was the future she'd hoped to avoid when she'd made friends with the world on the other side of the portal.

"Good morning your Majesty," Lord Richardson said kindly as he entered Henrietta's throne room, "I hope that you've slept well despite yesterday's unpleasantness." The Queen had not slept at all, actually, but she stayed polite.

"Unfortunately, it was not a restful night," she answered, fatigue evident in her voice.

"My apologies your Majesty," Richardson replied, bowing his head. "I have something that may restore your spirits on this peaceful morning though."

He handed her his phone.

"Hello?"

"Good morning Queen Henrietta," a regal voice said, "Allow me to introduce myself. I am Elizabeth the Second, by the Grace of God of the United Kingdom of Great Britain and Northern Ireland and of Her other Realms and Territories Queen, Head of the Commonwealth, Defender of the Faith."

Henrietta straightened out upon hearing the impressive title.

"Your Majesty, I am Queen Henrietta I of the Blessed Realm of Water, Tristain."

"It is a pleasure to finally speak with you," Queen Elizabeth II replied, "Queen Henrietta."

"The feeling is mutual Queen Elizabeth."

"I wish to congratulate you on your coronation and ascension to the throne," the British monarch said warmly, "It is quite a shame that such a special day be ruined by a despicable rascal. Were many of your subjects harmed?"

"Sadly, many were. Some of the greatest and most beloved families in the kingdom."

"On behalf of the House of Windsor and the Commonwealth, I offer you my condolences on the loss of life, Queen Henrietta."

"Thank you, I will tell those concerned."

"You're welcome. Oliver Cromwell's attack on your coronation is quite shocking for me and many other monarchs on Earth," Queen Elizabeth elegantly explained, "Not only did he have the appalling audacity to ruin such an important moment in a young woman's life but also threatened the lives of my family. It was unacceptable that my realm remained idle."

"What do you mean?" Henrietta was perplexed. When the other queen spoke again, her voice had a tone of mischievousness.

"Some of our nation's finest men paid his home a little visit last night. Could you please hand back Lord Richardson's phone?"

Henrietta did so. The ambassador played around his menus a bit before showing her a picture. It was a large, burning building. The Tristainian queen thought it looked vaguely familiar.

"Prime Minister May and I requested that our finest men show the United Kingdom's displeasure to M. Cromwell."

Henrietta caught on.

"Your men burnt down his palace?" she asked, slightly giddy. At the same time, it was a sad moment. The Palace had been Wales' beloved home where she had spent happy moments in their youth. Better for it to burn though than be a trophy for a murderer and usurper.

"Indeed. I hope that M. Cromwell understands that his behavior is unacceptable," Queen Elizabeth added before Lord Richardson swiped to another picture. It was a statue of Cromwell- no doubt some vanity erected after his victory- with its head cleanly torn off.

"It seems our men wanted to have some fun of their own before leaving."

Henrietta smiled for the first time since the coronation.

"I thank you for your kindness and generosity, your Majesty."

"Your Majesty, it is the least I could do. Your kingdom has been a wonderful kingdom to negotiate with and my grandsons have nothing but good words about their stay and their meeting with you. They also have great faith in you and your future."

"Words cannot convey my gratitude but I wish for our nations to become greater friends."

"I wish the same. I will leave you to your duties but I wish you good fortune in these dire times."

"Thank you." Henrietta said. The call ended, and she got back to the matter at hand.


There's a phenomenon in political science called the rally effect- a population will rally around a leader and their approval will increase in times of crisis or war. It was part of the reason why dictators were more prone to starting wars. It was rarer in democracies, but it still happened.

The United States was seeing the same thing happening. Ever since the first images of the attack reached the living rooms of America, to seeing their president return with a suit covered in blood and brain matter, the American people were seething with anger.

Pro-American and pro-Trump supporters gathered outside the White House showing their support for both, much like people had done to celebrate the death of Bin Laden. The Pentagon and State Department had all made statements, but the people wanted to hear from their president himself.

Nearly 24 hours after leaving the cathedral, recuperating with a full days rest and some time with his family, President Trump finally appeared in public again to address the nation and the American people. He was going to tell them what had happened and, after hours of deliberation with both his own people and the Canadian government, what would happen.

"I'm very happy with what I've seen today!" He declared as the stood behind the podium. "Americans standing up and acting outraged, as they should! The whole country should be outraged! A cowardly terrorist attack! That is what this was!" Trump paused for a moment.

"Before I go on, I want to take a moment to thank the brave men and women of the Secret Service and our Armed Forces for their work. It is because of them I am still here to speak to you and that these animals got what they had coming." He paused again to let that slightly brutish tribute sink in.

"These animals thought that they could intimidate me and the American people. They were wrong. They have only angered us! America has never allowed itself to be threatened or intimidated by animals!"

"These people want war. They want to harm innocent people. They want to put themselves on our doorstep, but we will not let them! We will hold them back, and we will destroy any ability to have to harm us." He let that ominous warning hang in the air.

"We are sending more troops into Tristain." He admitted. "But we are not alone. We will stand beside Canada. Our allies are for once willing to put in their share of work and have pledged to support us."

The fact was, behind the scenes, it had been agreed not to escalate this into a NATO conflict. For one, it would take focus away from Eastern Europe, which no nation wanted. Secondly, the treaty obligation hadn't been invoked. It had taken hours of discussion, and a few of arguing, but the US and Canada had mutually agreed not to consider the attack as an act of war, and they were going to relay as much to the rest of the world.

There was talk of Commonwealth involvement, but that was possibly weeks away. Right now, it was American and Canadian troops on the front lines. Although Trump and Trudeau had been briefed on the British SAS mission into Albion the previous night, one supported by American and Canadian resources. It had been planned and executed on short notice, but it had had the desired effect.

"If they don't want to fight, good for them. But if they do," Trump's tone was ruthless, "we will not hesitate to destroy them."

Trump's speech was decisive, and there was hardly a middle ground. A lot of Americans were all for it, loudly cheering or praising the news. Others approved for no other reason than keeping that world out of their own. A lot shook their heads and decried the President as warmongering; many such people had actually been hoping Trump wouldn't survive the attack. But at the end of the day, one fact was clear:

The majority of America was ready and willing to fight.

And the kicker was, even with Republicans having a narrow majority after the recent midterms, he still might've been able to get a declaration of war from Congress if he wanted.


In Canada, the same thing had happened preceding the Prime Minister's first address since returning. Trudeau had received calls from all the provincial prime ministers as well as calls from all the opposition leaders asking if he was well. Whether it was a political maneuver or genuine solidarity, they had all pledged to put aside their differences for the time being and work together to resolve this crisis.

The Canadian people held their collective breath as they waited for their Prime Minister to speak. The cameras were focused on Parliament Hill despite the cold winds. Finally, a somber looking Trudeau walked onto the podium.

"My fellow Canadians. I am speaking to you at a moment of grave crisis, when violent and fanatical men are attempting to destroy the unity and the freedom of Canada and Tristain. Much has happened in the past two days. Queen Henrietta's coronation was attacked by terrorists backed by Reconquista and fuelled by the hateful rhetoric of Oliver Cromwell. It saddens me to tell you that many innocents have perished or have been grievously wounded by this savage attack. Luckily, thanks to the heroic exploits of our men and women as well as our allies, this barbaric act was defeated before further innocent blood was spilt."

Trudeau paused briefly to recompose himself.

"Like in the past, Canada and its people shall always stand alongside its allies to fight against aggression and oppression. I am thankful that M. Scheer and M. Singh have pledged to work together with me in this time of crisis. As befitting of true Canadians, we have put aside our differences for a common, noble goal; the defense of peace and freedom. As much as we would've wished otherwise, it would seem conflict is upon us. Albion and its ruler have decided that they do not respect life, or respect peace. They have chosen aggression and we must them understand that Canada will not be idle while they attack not only our friends, but us ourselves as well."

His tone was somber as he continued his speech.

"We still diligently hope that peace can be preserved. But if it can not, we, as Canadians, are ready to stand against the madness of Oliver Cromwell and Reconquista. There will be no war yet. We will not let these attempts to provoke us succeed. We will remain steadfast in our defense of our allies and of our borders."

"We will be not alone in this endeavour as the Commonwealth and NATO have pledged to support us in our efforts. With them at our side, we stand resolute in defending the great values on which our nation has been founded and in which we believe."

"Already, we are reinforcing our holdings in Tristain and I have called for an emergency session of Parliament later today about our course of action. Special measures have already been enacted in Quebec to ensure our citizens' safety with the help of Prime Minister Legault as well as allowing the Canadian Armed Forces to act quickly in case of emergency. I appeal to all Canadians not to become so obsessed by what the government has done today in. Oliver Cromwell and his followers have led an unprovoked attack on an innocent people on an important day of their nation. We must not forget that they chose the opening play in this vicious game. They chose to use deceit and murder. We are merely responding to their aggression."

Many of Trudeau's detractors, mainly the conservative voters were surprised that he was taking a firm stance. His voters were quite pleased with his stance however. Others, mainly fringe groups, were horrified. This was warmongering that only served to advance the United States and Canada's interests. Others, especially in Quebec, were afraid of martial law, something that had gripped the province the October Crisis. Both civil rights defenders and businessmen were afraid of such a prospect.


The merchants had been made to clear out around the portal. Most had left on their own anyway once the military activity increased. Most of the scientific parties were leaving as well though many of the medical groups insisted to stay and help.

Huynh watched as the last business group left through the portal while the men from his platoon moved into their fighting positions. Taking a glance at the Academy, he could see carriages leaving. No doubt that the nobles wanted their children safe from harm… or in the front lines alongside them. The Academy was an international institution, so no doubt a few of them would be fleeing for the border. Tristanian troops were already manning its walls while the professors who'd chosen to stay were using their magic to reinforce its defenses.

But the American and Canadian troops? They were staying. Reinforcements would be coming through the portal soon, at first from Canada and in a day or two from America. The familiar sound of a southern drawl caught Huynh's attention.

"You Canucks heard the rumours?" Trombley asked. The American Lieutenant was fully kitted as well.

"Which ones?"

"The British are coming."

"Damn."

As he finished saying that, loud rumbling came from the portal. Both looked over and saw a convoy of LAV-III's and trucks emerging from it. Rather than stop, some of the LAV's headed out away from the portal. They went down the road and off into the distance.

"Must be reinforcing the base by the coast." Huynh remarked.

"Yup."

"Any idea who else is coming Stateside?" Huynh asked, "I know that 3rd Battalion's coming in with their choppers later today." In the way Canadian Army units were structured, the 3rd Battalion was the air assault element in each brigade. With the risk of an invasion coming to any part of the country, that mobility was the best option.

Trombley placed his hand on his chin.

"Hell, they might just send the whole 2nd brigade through." Of the roughly 400 American soldiers in Tristain, all were drawn from the 10th Mountain Division based out of New York."

"Whatever happens man, we'll be fine," Huynh quoted with an evil grin as he remembered an old quote from Earth, "For we have got the machine-gun and them not."

"You got that right." There were three American M2 Browning mounted on tripods at the checkpoint- it'd worked for low flying aircraft 70 years ago and it could work for dragons now. Not to mention the plethora of automatic weapons in each infantry squads as well as mortars, command and control, superior marksmanship and range.

They outclassed Albion in practically every single way. And with the reinforcements coming through, their edge would be supplemented by numbers.

The Earth forces could go into battle with faith they'd wipe the floor with Albion.


While these speeches happened, across various military installation all across North America, the troops had been on alert. Weapons and vehicles were being cleaned, inspected and fine tuned by their users as they awaited further orders. Men who were at home waited for their call to rejoin their units, their loved ones anxiously standing next to them. Others had already returned to their stations in anticipation of things to come.

In Tristain, banners flew proudly over camps where footmen, cavalrymen and battlemages rallied. The sound of weapons being sharpened over grindstones mixed with quartermasters counting their supplies.

Brimiric priests and military chaplains led their men in prayer for swift victories and a safe homecoming on both sides of the portal.

People on both sides were expecting conflict. Tristain had been expecting for over a year now, and the day seemed to be fast approaching. In North America, people were expecting retaliation for the attempt on US and Canadian lives and that they'd have to fight to keep chaos spilling over from the other world into theirs. To both sides, there was a sense you were fighting to keep your home safe.

The military prep wasn't limited to North America or Halkegenia. In the UK, the Army's Parachute Regiment was preparing for a possible deployment while the units at the British Army Training Unit Suffield were gearing up as well. This wasn't just about the attempt on the princes' lives or an alternate universe Cromwell. Canada was one of the biggest members of the Commonwealth afterall and the two nations enjoyed a long history together in peace and in war. If an invasion of Tristain did occur, then Canada would be at risk.

Australia had was also preparing. Aside from being a Commonwealth state too, the Australians were more than willing to help Canada. Both nations came of age in the hellish landscapes of WWI and had fought many battles alongside each other against long odds ever since.

The UN meeting also took place. While the international consensus was the US and Canada had a right to defend themselves, certain voices still considered that the North American nations were getting involved in things they shouldn't. Russia had accused the two countries of bringing instability to another world, claiming that they weren't just content of stirring chaos on Earth but that they just had to worsen things in another world.

The envoys from North America reaffirmed their commitment to purely defensive action, although the US insisted that it would take whatever actions necessary to protect its people.

But the whole world was sure now- there was going to be an armed conflict.


Both leaders' speeches concluded at roughly the same time, and they stepped down to return to their duties. There was still a lot to do: meetings with allies, further meetings with each other and Tristain to manage their response, and neither would forget they still had to run their countries while facing this threat.

Both Trump and Trudeau were both walking back to their offices when they were approached urgently by their aides. And less than a minute apart, both men were told the same thing:

Albion had started to invade Tristain.

Author's endnote: I must admit that the assassins getting that close to both Trudeau and Trump is quite farfetched but it was a bit of creative liberties meant to have an awesome moment.

Despite paranoia, secret services are manned by people and people don't always get everything right...

Hope you guys enjoyed reading this chapter! As always read and review.