A Bedroom, Residence of the United States Envoy, Esthirant, Parpaldian Empire

"You've got mail."

Doctor Louise Banks immediately reached over to her Dell laptop and mashed the spacebar a couple of times. After waiting for Windows 2000 to wake up the laptop from sleep, she opened the America Online 6.0 app, navigated to her Mailbox, and opened the top email.

'Subj: RE: Parpaldian Language Identification

Date: 10/07/2001

From: Sharon Hargest

Dear Doctor Banks,

My colleagues and I at the University of Washington's Department of Linguistics have examined the material you sent us. We have identified a probable candidate for an Earth-origin 'twin' language to Parpaldian.

We agree with your analysis that Parpaldian is twined to the West Germanic language family. We have been able to drill down to conclude that specifically, Parpaldian most closely matches Old Franconian. A Word document containing our detailed analysis has been attached for your reference.

For confirmation, please check whether your references can understand and translate the list of Old Franconian words and phrases we have attached in a second Word document.

Unfortunately, as our modern understanding of Old Franconian relies on reconstruction from loan words found in Old French and Old Dutch due to a lack of attested sources, we are unable to properly translate the Parpaldian medical texts into English.

From,

Doctor Sharon Hargest

Department of Linguistics

University of Washington'

Louise was filled with joy at the likely identification of Parpaldian as the twin language of Old Franconian, but she was equally disappointed that it meant no one was going to provide a viable translation of the Parpaldian medical texts without creating a whole bilingual dictionary, unlike the Latin documents provided by the Muans.

The cryptologic linguist Marines she tasked with filling out that dictionary by badgering the Parpaldian medical staff providing aid to the American mission would have to continue slogging through their work.

Rooftop, Residence of the United States Envoy, Esthirant, Parpaldian Empire

Lance Corporal Enrique Martinez aimed the Stinger at one of a pair of Parpaldian wyverns patrolling the airspace above their capital.

"Get anything Lance Corporal?"

"Got no tone, Sergeant," replied Enrique. He'd been standing here all day pointing the anti-air launcher at every wyvern that lazily flew in the sky around the not-embassy since some officer got the idea to check whether their weapons would work against the animals. This was originally a good idea, honestly. However, every time, once again, not a single sound came from his launcher indicating he had a lock-on.

No tone, Sir. None at all. Zilch, zip, nada. Please stop making our squad stand out here and repeat this stupid task that's not going to produce a different result.

Unfortunately, the butter bar was not around for him to voice his complaints. Not that Enrique would have complained in his presence anyways, being a lowly Lance Corporal.

"What about you, Corporal? What do you get on the CLU?"

"Same thing as before and the time before that, Sergeant," replied the Corporal as he aimed a Javelin Command Launch Unit at one of the wyverns. "Abnormally low infrared signature shows up for an animal, even for a lizard, compared to its human rider. It can still lock on, however."

The Sergeant sighed and made notes once again on his clipboard. "Alright, we wait for the next patrol to try again. Ramirez, you're on sky watch this time."

Honestly, Enrique had to admit that it was spooky how cold the wyverns were, which meant that purely heat-seeking missiles like the Stinger could not lock on to them in their current configuration. Only the much more expensive Javelins with their imaging infrared would be able to hit them if they loitered around at a slow speed like an oblivious helicopter. The Marines did not have that many of them on hand, nor did they feel likely that wyverns would flap around in place in a fight. Hence several anti-air configured 50 cal Brownings had been emplaced on the roof with them.

Of course, they were not allowed to test fire a 50 cal machine gun round against the scales of a wyvern… yet.

Radar detected them as usual, so at least Marine airpower would still swat the creatures out of the sky if they got into trouble.

He carefully rested the Stinger launcher and picked up his book to read during the wait. He was about halfway through The Return of the King, having started reading the final book in anticipation of the now never to be released first The Lord of the Rings movie. The transference had occurred just a few months too soon, so now it was stuck somewhere on the editing floor in London.

Maybe the Peter Jackson guy was in the process of screwing it up anyways. Enrique had never heard of the director before the trailer was released, and LOTR had the reputation of being an unfilmable book.

Honestly, the only decent adaptation that could do justice would be a very expensive TV series.

The Oval Office, Washington, D.C.

"Governor Engler," spoke George W. Bush on the phone, "I once again, before signing off, assure you my office is doing everything it can to speed up approvals for the new pipeline that will relieve the propane crisis in Michigan and relieve the strain on the rail network. It is in fact, the number priority of this administration for the northeastern United States. Only the best and brightest contractors have been assigned to it. It will be the fastest-built pipeline in United States history… Thank you, governor. Goodday."

He hung up. It was a good thing the Great Lakes somehow had an entirely new mountain range rise to divide the waters during the transference, without any catastrophic earthquakes to boot. It meant that while energy was no longer flowing through the pipelines from Canada, thus wiping out more than 50% of Michigan's propane imports, at least the remaining half of the four formerly shared Great Lakes weren't falling off the Great Northern Cliffs into the new northern ocean about 579 feet below. There was even somehow enough rain to replenish the lakes to maintain the current water level.

The new mountains holding back all the water was surely another sign that there was intelligence to the transference and not a haphazardly made glitch in the universe like a wormhole. George touched the cover of the bible now permanently on top of his desk. New polls had shown that pretty much all religions had gained membership rates though, which meant Americans were still as divided as ever over the true deity that's done it.

George looked up to see his executive assistant enter.

"Mister President, the Secretary of Health and Human Services is on line one."

"Thank you, Naamah." George waited for the executive assistant to close the door and leave the room before he tapped the corresponding buttons and picked up the phone.

"What's the news from CDC Tom?"

"Would like to hear the good or the bad news first, Mister President?" replied Tommy Thompson.

"The bad."

"The CDC has confirmed that the disease outbreak affecting our people in the Parpaldian Empire is a novel virus. No one in the United States will have immunity from it. It would rapidly spread across the entire continent if uncontrolled and allowed to reach our shores."

George sighed. "So our efforts to establish international trade will be slowed down."

"Yes, Mister President."

"Okay then, what's the good news."

"Improbably, much like some of the locals here speaking Latin, the CDC has identified the novel virus as being extremely similar to influenza A. So similar that the CDC has concluded that it is a variant of influenza A. It's been named as A/Esthirant/01/01(H1N1)."

"Wait, so you're saying that Howard Leech has the flu?"

"Indeed, Sir. But I'll like to remind you that Type A is the most dangerous type of influenza, and given his age, Mister Leech is in particular mortal danger. The H1N1 variant in particular is responsible for the Spanish flu and the Russian flu of 1977."

"Given the fortuity of this alien virus being almost a replica of something we've already encountered, I've begun directing assets towards the production of a targeted vaccine. At full production, we should be able to expect delivery in six months."

"Six months?!"

"Test vials can be delivered to the Marines and the diplomatic team sooner, but six months is to enable most Americans to walk on all these alien soils without fear of this virus."

"How soon can we resume our foreign activities then? 3 months?"

"Actually, Mister President. I'll have to check with the CDC on this, but I believe that we can send out the folks who've caught the virus as soon as they've fully recovered. The volunteered samples provided by the Parpaldian staff at the embassy show the presence of all sorts of antigens, likely for this flu and other viruses unknown to us. Based on this, I expect the people who recover to acquire some amount of immunity. If recovery patterns are similar to our Earth-born influenza A viruses, they should be able to start actively engaging after about a week."

"One week." George stood up from his padded office chair and paced himself by the windows to the limits of the phone's cord. "Okay then. Not much of a setback at all if Howard's luck holds."

"Um, Mister President?"

"Yes, Tom?"

"There's one more thing…"

George frowned. "What is it?"

He heard Tommy Thompson take in a deep breath. "So, the Parpaldians and the Muans have graciously provided records describing their known current endemic diseases. From these records, which we're still going through and translating, our epidemiologists have identified one that has symptoms very closely resembling smallpox."

"Smallpox!" George remembered the Algerian news report. "Ordinary type or…"

"Ordinary smallpox only in the recorded cases we've translated. We're still checking for cases of the other kinds, but the Parpaldian doctors we talked to do not appear to know of them."

George sighed in relief. "It's a good thing we have vaccines for smallpox. I remember getting vaccinated for that as a kid."

"...Unfortunately, Mister President, we stopped routinely vaccinating Americans in 1972 since it was eradicated in the United States. The complete eradication of smallpox around the world in 1980 meant there was no need to acquire immunity to it. This is why bioterrorists used smallpox to derive blackpox. In preparation for such an attack, we have stockpiled enough smallpox vaccines across the country to vaccinate everyone. I recommend vaccinating our marines and other staff who don't already have the smallpox vaccine and preparing to distribute it to the public for when trade finally opens up."

"I accept your recommendations. Work on it."

"Yes, Mister President. I'll send updates to your office. That was all Mister President."

"Goodbye Tom."

George W. Bush hung up. With impeccable timing, Namah re-entered the Oval Office.

"Next is my meeting with Seer at NSC?"

"Yes, Mister President."

"Let's go then."

Main Conference Room, National Security Council Building, Washington, D.C.

George looked at the projected image in front of him.

"So what am I looking at, Seer?"

The PowerPoint slide showed what appeared to be a gold cylindrical pill against a black background. There were several holes with components sticking out in various places on the surface that had a curiously similar design to the sockets R2D2 would interact with in Star Wars. Other more significant bits appeared more like small maneuvering thrusters. The two domes were free of any appendages. At the bottom of the slide, the word 'SECRET' was visible.

"That, Mister President, is a foreign satellite, reporting name Gold Can, stationed in geostationary orbit just below the asteroid ring. They have 3 times the diameter of our own GPS Block IIs. Our sensors do not detect any electronic transmissions emanating from them though, which indicates it's likely magical. So far we've found 12 identical satellites with our currently limited detection capabilities."

George grasped the immediate implications. "Someone on this planet has space-age technology."

"Yes, Sir. They appear to have a knack for construction. You'll notice that the main body of the satellite largely lacks visible lines for cuts, indicating a large part of the outside is of one-piece construction. The SAC has theorized that the entire gold body is a cylindrical solar panel."

"Could we build a curved solar panel?"

"Not today."

Better construction technology than the United States. George hoped whoever made these satellites was less advanced in other areas.

"Do we know who owns them?"

"Not currently, but we have suspicions." Seer switched the slide. "Here are six of the world's continents at night time, including ours."

As expected from the gathered intel on foreign continents, the United States was a diamond in the dark compared to the Central, Philades, Grameus, Rodenius, and Vestal continents.

"Hmm?" murmured George. The south of the Central continent was reportedly the location strongest known nation on Arda with comparatively modern technology, the Holy Milishial Empire, but its light output was somewhat less than that of the Philades.

"Seer, why does the Holy Milishial Empire appear so dark?"

"Well, in the interest of maintaining secrecy on our space capabilities, we can make deductions by quietly comparing the HUMINT we've gathered in Esthirant with the IMINT here. No significant SIGINT, as expected from a magical society. As you can see, the major concentrations of light are on their coast where their major ports are. The capital of Runepolis is comparatively dark, only having major light sources around their airports much like the rest of the country. According to our gathered human intelligence, the economic driver of the Milishials is around the port city of Cartalpas, while Runepolis is purely an administrative capital with various historical sights that take advantage of the natural light reflecting off the ring. Visitors to the nation are restricted to these two cities."

"So unless they had satellite imagery or conducted high altitude aerial reconnaissance, no other nation would know that most of the Milishial Empire only has lights around airports?"

"Yes, Mister President."

"Could the elves simply prefer less artificial lighting?"

"A logical guess, given their reported better night vision, but alas, we have IMINT that provides an alternative explanation." Seer changed the projected image to that of an area around an airport during the day. "We are confident that this particular airport is an example of a civilian airport servicing a large municipal city of about 1 to 2 million given the presence and arrangement of passenger terminals along with the amount of observed aircraft on the ground. Note the riverport to the east of the airport. Observe these structures here and here. See how dotted lines are extending out from them to the airport and riverport respectively. The dotted lines are slidercar lines, equivalent to railroads."

"The slidercar lines disappear into the concrete structures you point out."

"Exactly, those are tunnel entrances."

George widened his eyes in shock. "Good God, Seer. You're telling me that a million people all live underground!?"

"Yes, Mister President. Tunnel entrances and exits like these connected to major civilian airports are the norm in the Holy Milishial Empire, not the exception."

"But why? Why would they choose to live underground?"

"The Milishial embassy in Esthirant has invited our diplomatic staff to meet once they've recovered from their illness. Perhaps we can gain some answers from the elves directly without revealing our satellite capability. Questions about their history will probably suffice."

Seer flipped to another image, this time of the area surrounding the airport. "As you can see, most of the land immediately surrounding the airport and port districts appear to be agricultural areas. The placement of the buildings indicates that their farmers, at least, live on the surface like our own."

George recovered from the shock of learning that people on this planet lived in underground complexes that made the Cheyenne Mountain Complex look like a cottage vacation home.

"Any other likely candidates?"

"No Mister President. Unfortunately, as we are still in the process of launching additional reconnaissance and GPS satellites to cover the larger surface area of this world, we lack detailed intelligence like on the rest of the world."

"How long till we have full coverage?"

"Arda's surface area is about 770 cubic miles. Earth was about mere 120 cubic miles. We need to add five times our current number of satellites. By pausing all civilian launches, at our current rate of 40 satellites per year, we need six years for minimum viable continuous coverage of the entire planet. We'll have coverage over the Annonrial Empire itself after two years."

"That long?"

"Indeed, Mister President. Our GPS satellites travel in semi-synchronous orbits, which means we'll have full GPS coverage first before achieving full reconnaissance coverage that largely travels in geostationary orbits. Unfortunately, that means even over the USA, GPS signals will remain spotty for longer even as we gain valuable SIGINT and IMINT data on new areas."

"There goes much of our precision strike capability… Which continent are we going to get reconnaissance data next on?"

"The Branchel continent, directly far south of the HME. According to the Parpaldians, its the homeland of, I quote, 'the largest nation of sword and bow-wielding barbarians in the world, the Annonrial Empire.'"

"...Pardon me?"

"Apparently the Annonrial Empire practices Japanese shogunate-style isolationism and confines visitors to its northernmost island here."

"Interesting, but I guess not a likely candidate for owning those satellites."

"Yes, Mister President. However, the NSC does not believe that the HME owns the satellites either. I'll point out that we've seen examples of HME construction. Their cargo ships occasionally travel to Esthirant and have plenty of visible seams along their metalwork. The level of technology visible in their construction seems to be behind us by several decades. However, they could be purposely using their oldest vessels in this part of the world. Another point against them as our unknown owner is that we have not yet identified any possible launch sites for a space program, nor identified large enough runways that would support space-capable craft either."

"Hmm… Tell our folks to continue focusing on expanding our intelligence capabilities. I want the identity of our new rival in space uncovered as soon as possible… Now that I think about it. That's a lot of satellites we need to send up, so it's a huge multi-year undertaking. May I assume this has affected SAC's budget request for next year?"

"Yes, Mister President." Seer closed the PowerPoint. "Unfortunately all those satellites will add up. While the remaining launches for the current year are already covered, starting next year SAC will be increasing from just 4 to the current possible maximum of 40 satellite launches. At approximately $400 million for the construction and deployment of each reconnaissance and Block IIR GPS satellite, SAC's upcoming budget request has increased by $14.4 billion per year."

"Ah… that's an increase of about half SAC's current budget right?"

"Yes, Mister President. Unfortunately, if we aren't able to acquire new sources of energy and rare earth elements that cost will only increase over time. Assuming SAC maintains funding for its other tasks, we can choose to push back the launches of reconnaissance satellites into the future. While we would not have continuous reconnaissance coverage, if we can expand our military overflights like with Parpaldia, then we'll still gather enough reconnaissance coverage to give us early warning of any increases in military activity."

"Then our distant intelligence gathering capabilities would be thrown back a couple of decades for about half the world."

"Indeed, Mister President. As for the alternative, I advise not to reduce the scale of GPS launches, considering how important accurate positioning is to the American public as well as us in the business."

"Agreed… Delay most of the reconnaissance satellites then. I'll have the State Department push for overflights in negotiations with other nations. I already have enough trouble with congress."

"As you wish, Mister President." Seer slammed his laptop shut and began twisting the mounting screws to remove the VGA cables plugged into the laptop. "SAC is continuously monitoring for signs of orbital launches. If a foreign launch is confirmed, you'll be briefed as soon as possible."

Kitchen, Residence of the United States Envoy, Esthirant, Parpaldian Empire

After finishing his lunch break, Vlad Baris slowly worked through the article in The Parpaldian Times. Out of all the Romance-related languages that Parpaldian could be 'twinned' with, as Doctor Banks coined, Vlad wondered why it just had to be Old Franconian. The language was not even used by the Frankish Empire in their administrative texts. Instead, Latin was what was written down and ultimately preserved in historical records.

He checked his daily printout of the in-progress Parpaldian to Lourin/Latin to English dictionary. New words were collected every day by the Marines well enough to work and then compiled in Doctor Banks's master Word document. New versions would be distributed every morning while obsolete copies were shredded. With the flu wrecking havoc on available manpower, everyone who recovered quickly was now involved in coaxing new words and definitions with the seemingly immune Parpaldian doctors and nurses.

Vlad was the first of the infected to recover, so if nothing else he could boast that he contributed the most words to the new dictionary. Maybe enough to escape an et al attribution. He needed to talk with Doctor Banks about that. At this point, he was CC'd on the growing email reply chain.

He finished translating enough words in the article to get an idea of its contents. He read, 'Qua-Toynian… fleet destroyed by Lourians off the shoulder… Maihark under siege…' and later on, 'Lourian army secures Gim. New theme to be established.'

Theme… Judging from the context, Vlad suspected the word referred to an administrative division equivalent to a province.

Luckily for him, The Parpaldian Times loved to include basic maps with their weekly coverage of the Rodenius war. Vlad rummaged around in his bag and then unfolded a pre-transference map of the United States to compare with the scales on the newspaper. It showed that over the first week of the war, the Lourian fleet had travelled about the same length as the west coast of California. By contrast, the Lourian army had practically just stepped over the border, about equivalent to marching to Los Angeles from San Diego. The pacing of the advance matched his knowledge of medieval armies and navies. It came as a shock to Vlad that a complete conquest from one end of Qua-Toyne to another would be at the same scale by land area as conquering the entire western coast of the United States. It would be an extravagant feat worthy of the history books for the next five hundred years.

"Doctor Baris."

He looked up to see a Marine, a Corporal Miller according to his uniform tags.

"Your ride to the Milishial embassy is ready."

Vlad glanced at his watch. Half past one in the afternoon. "Got it. Just have to drop these notes off for the other language nerds."

With the vital task of diplomacy taking priority, he dumped his mess for the Marine linguists to finish cleaning up after making sure his name was adequately attributed on the notes.

Holy Milishial Empire Embassy, Esthirant, Parpaldian Empire

Vlad initially felt odd to be the only translator in the LAV as it ferried him to the embassy. As William Harris was still recovering with much of the diplomatic staff, there were only a couple of the junior Foreign Service Officers, Arthur Gilbert and Patricia Sullivan, accompanying him on the journey, so with such few people it was decided that the slidercar was not needed. Instead, they squeezed themselves onto the fold-down benches of the LAV with two Marine dismounts and of course, the Parpaldian valet keeping the driver from getting lost.

As he sat there, he considered how absurd it was that they were using a heavy military vehicle of all things for transport. By now a couple of Humvees were parked at the residence, but apparently, it took time for the Parpaldians to arrange for a special green ribbon, their equivalent of a diplomatic license plate, to be assigned and tied to a vehicle.

At last, the driver slowed down to a final stop. The two Marines opened up the rear doors and escorted the passengers out. Vlad took in his first view of the Holy Milishial Empire embassy through the silver bars of two sets of gates.

Honestly, by first impressions, Vlad was rather disappointed. He had thought the HME embassy would be a taller structure, maybe with some exotic architecture. Instead, it appeared to be a wide one-story grey concrete structure with narrow and tall airplane-type windows evenly spaced around it. The most extravagant design of the largely utilitarian structure was the entrance, which consisted of a recessed arch with a set of rounded-top double doors. At the top of the arch was a platinum-coloured metal emblem featuring the same symbols as the flag fluttering out on a pole in the paved courtyard.

The embassy was surrounded by tall concrete walls that surrounded most of the perimeter except for the gates and concrete gatehouse that formed the opening to the streets of Parpaldia. There were bollards in front of the gates.

There was a guard in the gatehouse, sitting behind a window. As Vlad approached him with the two FSOs, he noticed that the guard's workspace was surrounded like a cubicle, blocking any view into the rest of the gatehouse's interior. As they got closer, he noticed that the pale-skinned guard had short white hair and eyebrows along with pointy ears. The guard's uniform was brownish-dark grey, with a side cap containing a small blue yellow blue roundel on the front.

The guard said a single word in Parpaldian when they were about eight feet away through what must have been a hidden speaker, which luckily Vlad was able to translate for the duo.

"He wants the invitation."

"Ah okay," said Arthur. He pulled out the card from his suit jacket's inner pocket and approached the window.

There was a clink as a metal trough below the window rotated itself outwards like an apartment garbage suit or some mail dropoffs. Arthur hesitated a second at the unexpected sight before dropping the card in. The trough rotated back closed as the guard looked to the right at something for a few seconds.

From his vantage point far from the window, Vlad did not have a good view to see if the guard was looking at a screen or not. After another moment the guard bent over slightly and sat back up with the invitation in his gloved hands on his side of the window. He unfolded the card and examined its contents before slipping the entire thing into some equipment on his desk. There was a beep before he removed it and placed it to the side and spoke.

"I think the guard said no weapons allowed," translated Vlad.

"Well okay then," said Sergeant Gump as he stood at the rear of the LAV. The African American Marine went back inside the LAV. "Come on Corporal, get your ass in here and stow your rifle."

Corporal Miller hustled back into the vehicle as the guard spoke again.

"Five," responded Vlad. He held up five fingers and repeated in Parpaldian.

As the two Marines walked up to the group, Arthur picked up five lanyards with badges on them from the trough and handed them out. Then, the gate began to slide open by itself as the guard waved them past the bollards.

They all entered the currently empty courtyard. Vlad for the first time noticed large sets of double metal doors meant for vehicles recessed into the main concrete building, which were earlier blocked from sight by the tall walls ringing the perimeter.

Vlad heard a noise behind them and turned to see the gate slide shut behind them. Another noise from ahead alerted him that one of the main entrance double doors was opening inwards.

As they entered a dark room, he looked back at the top of the double doors to see that they were fitted with what looked almost exactly like a normal automatic door opener and closer.

The door closed behind them, leaving them in total darkness.

"Um, hello?" asked Arthur.

Vlad blinked in surprise as the lights suddenly turned on. He recognized they were in a mantrap, with another double door right of center on the opposite wall. A large window was left of center beside the doors with an empty armchair behind it. In front of the window, on their side, were two rows of chairs, totalling ten. A roughly black rectangular crystal above the window read 13:53 and (see Wattpad version for some non-Arabic numerals, cause it's an image) in neon light blue.

Vlad checked his watch. It was indeed 1:53 pm.

"Doctor Baris, do you recognize the language those numbers are in?" asked Patricia.

The correct term was 'script', but Vlad did not nitpick her error. "I'm afraid not."

"That's a pity."

"Let's sit down then," recommended Arthur. "The invitation said the meeting will start at 2:00 pm."

As Vlad took a seat in the front row, Arthur asked the Sergeant, "You Marines not going to sit?"

"We are just fine standing, Officer."

"Suit yourself then."

The minutes went by slowly. On the other side of the large window, another HME flag could be seen hanging from a concrete wall behind the lone armchair that blocked any further view into the building. Looking around the mantrap more closely, they identified round black domes in the corners of the ceiling that were probably security cameras.

At one point Corporal Miller checked both the inner and outer doors to find they were indeed locked. They were trapped for the time being, but at least the handheld transceivers still worked as shown when Sergeant Gump checked in with the LAV outside.

Finally, as soon as the sort of digital clock switched to 14:00, a tall elf walked into view behind the window. Vlad kept his expression from changing as much as possible as he saw that the elf's skin was a dark purple-grey colour. The elf had short silver hair and was dressed in a dark blue suit.

Out of the corner of his eye, Vlad saw that Arthur had reacted the worst, having started to stand up from his chair upon seeing a figure enter the room behind the window, then stop halfway for a moment in shock before finally rising to his full height. Patricia and Arthur stood up as the elf's attention focused on Arthur, obviously noticing his reaction.

The elf then looked at each person in the delegation in turn. When Vlad found himself looking straight into his deep red irises from just a few feet away, he suddenly felt a most unexpected sensation, like a lightbulb turning within the depths of his mind.

This elf! He's one…

The elf's eyes widened in surprise for a split second before they returned to normal and turned away towards Corporal Miller. Vlad quickly processed this new revelation, with the knowledge that this discovery was mutually shocking for the elf. He mentally added an urgent task to complete later.

"Greetings, Americans," said the elf in perfectly pronounced Latin/Lourin through a speaker that Vlad couldn't find. "I am Legomon, His Holy Imperial Majesty's Ambassador to the Empire of Parpaldia."

When Vlad spoke to translate for the officers, he noticed the elf glance at him before flickering away towards Arthur as he spoke in English.

"It is our pleasure to meet you, Ambassador Legomon. I am Arthur Gilbert, Foreign Service Officer of the United States of America."

"I am Patricia Sullivan, also a Foreign Service Officer in service to the United States."

There was a pause Legomon appeared to wait for Vlad to introduce himself. His lips ever so slightly frowned as Arthur made the introductions for the rest of them and Vlad merely continued translating.

"This is Doctor Vlad Baris, our translator. The two gentlemen in uniform are Sergeant Gump and Corporal Miller, Marines of the United States Marine Corps, one of the military branches of our country."

The dark elf nodded. "I notice Mister Leach is not with you. Is he still ill?"

"Unfortunately, yes. His second is also still sick at this moment. I must most humbly apologize that you are unable to meet with our most highly-ranked delegates today. Mister Leach's second is scheduled to leave for the Rodenius as soon as he recovers, but your invitation indicated you wished to discuss that upcoming trip before it was underway."

"Indeed, the Holy Milishial Empire has an interest regarding any new affairs on the island continent. I can understand the tough conditions forced upon you, as diseases are not unknown to His Imperial Majesty's subjects. Please give my regards to Mister Leach and an invitation to meet with me here when he recovers, Officer."

"Thank you, Ambassador."

"This leads me to an awkward position, as I must clarify your statuses as officers. How much power do you two have to represent the will of your nation?"

Patricia spoke up. "As Foreign Service Officers, we implement United States foreign policy. However, we do not have the authority to make binding decisions on behalf of the United States ourselves. We will refer whatever you have to Mister Leach and thus our government."

"I must admit that this is a bit disappointing. Luckily, today's affairs do not require such authorizations from you two young people."

Arthur opened his mouth in response to the referral of them as young. Both were above the age of thirty, but then he shut it. Vlad observed that Legomon did look much more youthful than any of the humans present, but as a non-human, Legomon's age was probably far beyond his looks. Vlad was glad that Arthur appeared to reach a similar conclusion.

Ambassador Legomon continued, "Due to the strict health policies of the Holy Milishial Empire. I am afraid we must conduct this meeting through this visitation window. I assure you, this restriction is for your safety more than mine. Please sit back down."

Everyone except the Marines did so, and Legomon gracefully sat on his side of the window. Vlad noticed the elf's perfect posture.

"The Holy Milishial Empire wishes to know what the United States of America wishes to do in Rodenius along with Mu."

"Ah," said Arthur. "We can easily answer that. Mu has informed us that there are likely to be deposits of resources that the United States is interested in within the Kingdom of Quila. Non-magical resources."

Legomon smiled. "Of course, non-magical resources. You wish to extract them from Quila peacefully?"

"Yes, Ambassador. I assure you the United States is not looking to fight for them. The United States of America believes in mutually beneficial cooperation."

"Then that's fine then. Did the Muans tell you that the Kingdom of Quila is currently at war?"

"Yes, with the Lourians. Is it true they're fighting with bows and swords?"

"Yes… Is severely backward military equipment not common where you came from?"

"Ongoing usage of such weapons in actual war is limited amongst super-isolated peoples without access to trade."

"Okay, I understand your confusion on the matter. You might not have all the details regarding the special circumstances of the continent of Rodenius then."

"Special circumstances?"

"Frankly, you may consider the entire continent to be a place of religious importance to most civilizations of Arda. As decreed under the laws of the Church of the Four Stars abided by all, no nation may significantly interfere in the way of life of Rodenius. The way of life extends from everything from the farmer to the soldier. For example, you may not give weapons or tools to make those weapons, that they could not have invented or built themselves.

Parpaldia's currently giving military aid to the Kingdom of Louria, but they are ensuring that it consists of crossbows for example. The Kingdom of Fenn is in the process of providing some primitive chargeguns to the Principality of Qua-Toyne that the Qua-Toynians themselves already started making prototypes of. For your matter, if you had a better bow the Quilans would then be able to copy and craft with their workers using materials they could feasibly acquire naturally, those bows would be permissible to provide."

"I think we understand. It's sort of like the most conservative of Amish in the United States, who prefer to develop technology at their own pace."

"It's good you are capable of conceptualizing the point. I have prepared a Lourin translation of these rules for you to take back to your government. I will warn you that breaking them will result in enmity between the United States and most of the civilized world. The direst of consequences would be considered."

"Even war?"

Vlad did not observe any change in Legomon's expression, but his voice descended into a chilling monotone.

"If it was your god's command, for they who gave you your life yesterday. Would you not give up your life in return today?"

Arthur did not reply right away. Instead, Patricia said, "Understood," after seeing the silence of her partner.

The elf smiled. "That is great. The Empire has chosen to provide you with a national overview intelligence package if you have one to trade. This is beyond what we usually offer to most nations, but you have seemed to make a good impression on other civilized nations."

Arthur opened the briefcase he had left on the chair beside him. "Where do I…?"

There was a clunk as a hidden, large trough capable of carrying a package slid open to the left of the window.

There was a gap between Arthur's deposit of his folder and then the return of a large set of printed manuscripts bound in beautifully styled silver covers.

As Arthur was busy figuring out how to best pack away them, Patricia asked, "Why did the Church of the Four Stars confer such special protection to the continent of Rodenius?"

"Answering that question would require a history lecture…" Legomon's eyes softened as if remembering something. "Would you be willing to stay for a while longer?"

"We have time," said Patricia.

"Please wait for about ten minutes. I'll be back." The elf got up and walked away.

Arthur packed up the last manuscript without damaging anything. "Got it, finally." He looked up back to the window. "Where did the purple guy go?"

Author's Note

Extra long chapter this time. I meant to include the history lesson in this chapter but I ended up not being able to fit it in.

In sadder news, my grandfather suddenly passed away from heart failure. This has been a huge shock to my family, as he otherwise seemed to be recovering well enough to be able to leave the hospital soon. I'm not sure if this will affect my progression rate for the next chapter, as his death hasn't quite settled into my mind as real yet.

If you still have older relatives, I ask that you visit them as much as you can. If you can only visit them on average about once a year, remember just how little time that is remaining. Make sure they chew their food properly.

I'll write to you next time. Whenever it is,

WellBattle6