Reception, Holy Milishial Empire Embassy, Esthirant, Parpaldian Empire
Ambassador Legomon came back rolling in a black hemispherical object secured within an ivory-like mount with four-wheeled legs at the bottom. The approximately 3 feet diameter dome faced the Americans and showed their distorted reflections on its clean surface.
"Just give me a moment. I just need to plug it in," said the purple elf. He unrolled a single cable attached to the back of the device and then plugged it into something to the near wall out of sight of the reception/mantrap's window.
Blue light emerged from within the center of the hemisphere. As it resolved to an image in front of the Americans, Corporal Miller muttered loudly, "Oh, it's a TV," before promptly remembering to shut up.
"Did someone say something?" asked Legomon as he returned in front of the object.
"Ah, umm, what do you call this device?" asked Vlad.
"It's a palantír, which literally means 'that which looks far away' in our language. A more appropriate translation would be 'seeing stone.' Palantíri have existed for almost as long as recorded Elven history, with the originals being small orbs you would place onto tabletop holders. As a device, it displays magi-feeds or acts as an external display for personal crystals."
"I see…"
A white-lined map with a black background emerged from the blue haze within the seeing stone.
"I know the Muans have a black-and-white mechanical seeing stone they call a 'tube,' though they can only show recorded images without generated images like the map on this palantír or a PC and have a much shorter lifespan. This model here has been running for over forty years… From your reactions, I know what question you want to ask because other Giftless have asked before you. Think of palantíri or PCs, like gemstone jewelry. Most improvements come from new spellware weaved into it, and if the form becomes a limiting factor, you can repurpose its components into a newer form. Under ideal circumstances, most will be reformed and upgraded by artificers rather than trashed, as they cost a premium for their longevity and the years and probably decades of expertise put into their design and production. With my explanation done, do you have an equivalent picture display?"
After Vlad finished translating, he could see the gears turn in FSO Patricia Sullivan's head as she processed the explanation before she replied, "We have devices that can show generated images over a recording in full colour."
"Once you set up an official embassy here and get all your things moved in, you must demonstrate a selection of your mechanical devices to me when I visit."
"We'll prepare an exhibition for you."
"Good. Now I'll begin this quick history lesson. You're lucky I was a student-level teacher before. If you had anyone else, this would take all day."
"You were a teacher? For how long?"
"Oh, just 50 years."
Only a mere 50 years… Vlad glanced at the FSOs, who all failed to visibly contain their surprise despite being informed during preparation meetings of elven agelessness. He guessed the concept of what that meant had not fully sunk into their consciousness until now.
"I'm 112 years old," responded Legomon dryly to their unvoiced questions in a well-practiced manner. "And this is my second career. You'll rarely see elves commit more than a century to the same job. Unlike more mortal people such as yourselves, we don't retire and never will. Only the occasional sabbatical lies ahead. With that said, I'll start the lesson now.
Many elven generations ago, when the average elven lifespan was much higher than today, over ten millennia in the past, the Central Continent consisted of the dragon-ruled country of Infildragoon, surrounded by elven and dwarfen peoples. One morning, the first expeditions of the Ancient Sorcerous Empire arrived from the southwest with human slaves from the continent of Mu and Demon servants such as goblins, orcs, trolls, and more. Over subsequent millennia they conquered the elven lands. The Sorcerors had superior mastery of mana and blood, and thus their expansion was only kept in check by the might of the dragons."
The map of the Central Continent became overlaid with almost neon-yellow and purple areas denoting the territories of the opposing factions.
"With other lands to conquer, the Sorcerors kept their attentions elsewhere, so for millennia, the two powers maintained a dangerous peace.
Until now, the information I've told you is what even Parpaldian school children learn. If you've been talking to the Parpaldians, they probably told you the Sorcerors suddenly abandoned their grip on the world as part of the abbreviated, gentle version of history. That is true, but there's a reason they did. The general populous outside of the First Civilization Area have never learned why, and frankly, there is no point, as the following history is so terrifying that it borders on the unbelievable. Before this point in history, the record was a bit spotty. Differentiating between myth and fact is harder. From now onwards, there are extensive records, including palantír recordings, available in the Holy Milishial Empire should you visit and look for them.
Eventually, the tensions between the two sides erupted into open war. The Dragon Sorcery War became so devastating that both sides unleashed their ultimate weapons. First, the Sorcerors used Core Magic to implode the whole capital of Infildragoon. Imagine an implosion so large that a 100-kilometre diameter area disappeared in the blink of an eye underneath a perfect black hemisphere. A 300-kilometre diameter area from the center completely flash froze instantly, with a further 1000-kilometre diameter area chilling to winter temperatures. The spell greatly disturbed the aether, the latent mana in the air, resulting in a continent-wide drop in temperature that turned summer into winter. It took 50 years for the continent to recover to temperate climate."
Vlad became alarmed by Legomon's statement as he translated his words into English to the astonished American visitors. Even Sergeant Gump's normally stony face gave way to a brief moment of visible surprise.
"Hold on a second, Ambassador," said FSO Arthur Sullivan. "You said this weapon was powerful enough to alter the climate?"
"Yes indeed. With such immense destruction, Core Magic effectively ended Infildragoon's existence. Its modern successor state, the Kingdom of Emor, is but a shadow."
"Is it possible to view the affected area today?"
"Yes, the original 300-kilometre freeze zone is still in perpetual winter, preserving the one-and-a-half millennia-old frozen tomb. You can visit via the Memorial Snow Cruiser Tour.
Now back to my history lesson. In response to the devastating attack, the surviving dragons summoned a comet to destroy the homeland of the Sorcerors, but it took months to arrive. The Sorcerors used the preceding time to abandon their now inhospitable colonies on the Central Continent and leave behind only a few Demon garrisons after bombing the remaining major population centers with bio bombs.
The Sorcerors cast a great ritual that allowed them to teleport their entire homeland across space and into the future before the comet's impact. The comet collided with merely an open ocean, but this impact created a half-kilometre-tall wave that engulfed the coast of the Central Continent. As many survivors of the Core Magic attack had already fled to the coast due to its warmer temperatures and non-frozen source of food, the waves proved devastating. These events became known as The Ruin."
The map changed again as a neon-light-blue area overlaid over the southern half of the Central Continent.
"With the last of the disasters, the survivors equalled a mere five percent of the pre-war population. Over the next two centuries, they slowly rebuilt civilization and unified into the Milishial Empire after driving the last Demons from the continent. The proclamation marked the start of the current calendar, 1639 years ago, and for 45 years, the Empire continued to recover. Unfortunately, a new Demon Army based from the Phillades continent landed on the eastern shore of the Empire, starting the Continuation War."
The map changed again.
Figure 12.1 Pelóri Calma Ombari (Pelóri Light Company) Palantír Displaying a Map of the Yanduin Offensive (50 CC)
"Over the next five years, the Demon Army used their overwhelming numbers to take all territory east of the Pelóri mountains. The Milishial military held the passes until-"
1589 Years Ago, Central Calendar Year 50, The Black Palace, Runepolis, Milishial Empire
"Your Imperial Highness! Wake up!"
Crown Princess Oiavëil opened her eyes as she was shaken ferociously by the shoulders. She groggily identified the perpetrator. "Nanny?"
The Honourable Nanny of the Imperial Household pulled the covers off her. "Get up quickly, My Lady. It's early morning, still dark out, but it's an emergency. Drink the water I've placed beside you so that you may be alert."
Oiavëil sat up and grabbed the crystal beside the bed. As she drank the refreshingly cold water and felt more awake, she noticed other maids rummaging through her closet and quickly packing some of her clothes into a travel trunk.
"Undress your sleeping gown and wear this, My Lady."
Oiavëil got up quickly and undressed. Nanny then quickly began travellers' robes over her.
"Which animal do you want to pack, My Lady?" asked a maid.
The crown princess looked to see the maid point at a row of stuffed toys she had accumulated as a child.
"We can only fit one in the trunk," explained the maid.
As she still felt confused over the exact nature of the emergency, Oiavëil hurriedly pointed at a dire wolf plushie.
With the last button done up, the Nanny moved away from her and checked on the maids. "Everything packed?"
"Yes, Honourable Mistress."
"Then let us be gone. Follow me, My Lady."
Oiavëil followed Nanny out of her room and into the hallway. All the window curtains were drawn, and a few lights were turned on. Five elven and human Life Wardens outfitted in combat gear instead of their full dress blues-and-yellows saluted her.
"Captain Dammaron," she greeted their commanding officer.
"Your Imperial Highness," replied the familiar elf, "We are here to escort you and your sister."
"Sister!"
Oiavëil turned to see her younger sister, Luinëth, run into her arms as the Life Wardens took up positions around the party. She, too, was dressed for the outdoors.
"Hey," she whispered as she returned the hug. She looked away from her sister to Nanny, "What's going on?"
"Demons have invaded from the coast to the southwest. They head for here."
"What about the Western Navy?"
"Sunk, so I heard, Your Highness. Please follow me."
Chills swept across Oiavëil's spine as she pulled her sister along after Nanny, the maids, and the wardens. Since Oiavëil's father, Mirishial I, had proclaimed the founding of the Mirishial Empire and the removal of the last Ravernal holdouts fifty years ago, he knew the nation only had limited time until the Demon lackeys of the Ravernals attempted to reconquer their former colonial territories in the Central Continent. Until now, the allied armies were holding back the hordes of goblins, orcs, ogres, trolls, and more at the passes of Pelóri, the mountain range that ran roughly north to south down the continent east of Runepolis, since they invaded from the east coast five years ago.
They arrived at a set of double doors flanked by more Life Wardens. These protectors of the imperial family saluted before opening the doors to let them into the Council room.
Oiavëil looked around the former administrative center of the Central Ravernal colonies and, now recently, the Council of Milishia's headquarters. The room now served as a war room, filled with ministers and officers looking at maps, lists, and messages. Across the room, two elves were talking.
"Sir, the 22nd Lightning Infantry Regiment has managed to retake Hill 13 and its lightning cannons, but they have lost almost a third of their strength as casualties. Already the opposing heavy demon regiment has been reinforced by goblins and is gathering to assault the hill once again. Despite the horrific damage inflicted by the 22nd upon them, the demons continue to have high morale and reorganize quickly."
"General, can the 22nd hold the hill against a counterattack?"
"Probably one more, but not another. The rapid reconstitution of the demon regiments, thanks to their attached four goblin reserve regiments, means we expect the one near Hill 13 to be able to throw two more regiments' worth of bodies onto the hill before they are rendered combat ineffective."
"Damn. I hoped the lightning guns would have been enough to offset our disadvantage in numbers."
"Lightning guns have multiplied the strength of our armies, but in comparison to the old chargeguns of the fallen empire, their strike rate and range are inferior. The Nosgorath brought enough troops to grind us down by attrition. The low profile of the goblins has proven to be an unexpected advantage for the enemy. They're more likely to be obscured by any soft and hard cover they come across while our troops focus on their visibly menacing betters."
"Don't goblins usually flee when we kill the bigger demons?"
"They're not this early morning, Sir. Intelligence indicates the goblins may be on combat drugs. There are reports of lone goblin survivors throwing themselves onto bayonets to make one final stab at our troops even after the rest of the unit was destroyed. In this battle, they're as ferocious as orcs."
The other elf shook his head. "How about the eastern front? Are they still holding?"
"The passes, yes. However, small groups of demons infiltrated past the battle lines by going over the mountains and now target our supply caravans. We've increased the number of escorts, especially for the lightning gem and lightning gun transports."
"How about the evacuation then? How much of the populace has left the city?"
"About twenty percent, Sir. The evacuation corridor is still secure for now, but time is running out. Eventually, the demons will exhaust our available soldiers before they run out."
"Luckily, they don't have chargeguns or implosion bombs and so will pay dearly for every step on our land they take. It is our saving grace that the Nosgorath lost the ability to manufacture them since The Ruin, like the rest of us."
Captain Dammaron marched up to the two and then saluted. "Your Imperial Majesty, Their Imperial Highnesses have arrived."
Emperor Mirishial I turned and spotted Oiavëil. For a moment, his brows were furrowed with worry before they relaxed as he walked over.
"Papa," said Luinëth.
"My sweethearts." He hugged them both.
After he pulled back, Oiavëil spoke up. "Nanny informed us we've been invaded from the west coast. Are we evacuating?"
She saw her father swallow before making a response. "The evacuation of the populace has already begun. You two will join them on the road south shortly."
"What about you?"
"I'll stay with the vanguard to protect the evacuation until forced to retreat. I won't lie to you. The Nosgorath has brought an overwhelmingly large army, so we'll have to retreat to a narrower front to reduce his advantage. That means going as far south as the Yanduin. There we can hold the bridgeheads. Uncle Gwestaron will be waiting for you there."
To Oiavëil's surprise, he removed the gold band and red gem ring from his right middle finger and put it on hers. "I want you to carry this sacred ring with you. You know its power. It will protect you until I return to you to collect it back." He patted her head. "Oh, my daughter of Autheth. Out of the two of you, you've inherited her eyes. May your mother watch you through them."
He stepped away, and Oiavëil gawked at the ring she now wore. Never in her life had she seen the Emperor remove it. She noticed that the General appeared as shocked as she was. The General saw her stare and quickly stiffened up to attention as Mirishial I addressed Nanny.
"Dúvensell, protect my daughters with your life. See them safely to your birthplace and namesake of the south."
"As you command, Your Imperial Majesty." Nanny curtsied. "I live to serve."
"Now go."
The Wardens escorted the princesses back out of the Council room. Instead of heading for the entrance of the Black Palace, they crossed over to the grand reception and headed for the large fireplace.
"Clear it," ordered Captain Dammaron.
The soldiers quickly opened the fireplace door and took out the logs inside, stacking them into a pile. Dammaron kneeled and crawled through the door before standing up inside the large firebox. Oiavëil saw his boots turn towards the right. There was a groan of scraping stones as his legs stepped out of sight. After a moment, he walked back into the firebox and bent down to show his face through the fireplace opening.
"Half of you lads. Move past me and into the passageway with lights on!"
Half of the escort crawled through the opening and then disappeared.
"Your Highnesses, please come through the opening. Mind the ash."
Luinëth, being much younger and shorter, only really had to hunch over to pass through the opening. Oiavëil followed after her and stood up. There was an opening in the right wall of the firebox. She walked in through the narrow passageway. The black stone of the palace gave way to normal grey ones as they advanced, the otherwise dark corridor lit up by the grey-blue beams of light emitted by the glow-torches of the Wardens. Eventually, they reached an exit and walked into what appeared to be a smokehouse. Sausages hung from the ceiling everywhere. They left the building and were quickly ushered onto the rear of a pair of covered wagons waiting in the dark forest. Oiavëil looked upwards and glimpsed the Tears of Arda shining white in the night sky before passing through a flap.
As she waited, she heard the sound of thunder in the distance. Eventually, Captain Dammaron climbed into their wagon and yelled, "Move out," to the drivers. As the wagon started moving, additional thunder murmured.
"It's not raining," commented Luinëth.
"That's the sound coming from lightning cannons," said Dammaron. "The fighting must be getting closer."
The roof of the Black Palace could be seen through the thin gap of the back flaps as they exited the forest onto the main road. As the wagon began moving past lines of walking evacuees, the thunder started to sound closer.
The buildings soon gave way to fields. Eventually, the road led them across the old battlefield on the capital's outskirts. The long-scavenged wrecks of Ancient Sorcerer-made nór lunca (land wagons) littered the fields on both sides of the road, destroyed during the opening stages of the liberation of Runepolis before the Milishial Empire's existence.
After many minutes, they were well outside Runepolis. Even here, Oiavëil could see the roof of the Black Palace in the distance, towering over the rest of the capital's structures.
For just a split second, the rooftop of the Black Palace disappeared in pure darkness, and afterwards, it returned, but with a huge hole in the middle that hung for a moment before the remains of the roof collapsed inwards and out of sight. The sound of falling debris reached them later.
Dammaron swore.
"What just happened?" she asked.
His face turned towards her with the colour drained from his face.
"That was an implosion…"
"An implosion…" Her heart dropped as she realized what happened. Implosions, created by implosion bombs, famously had no sound when they occurred. They ripped everything in a sphere towards their centre, and often people who were not looking in the correct direction would potentially miss the danger. The Black Palace was destroyed.
"Father!" she screamed. "No, no, no!"
She was held in Nanny's arms as Dammaron lept up and quickly silenced her with a napkin in the mouth as the wagon began to draw attention from the pedestrians they passed. Nanny then told her younger sister to stay quiet as she began to ask what was wrong.
Oiavëil cried into the rest of the night.
When she woke up, sunlight peered through the gap in the flaps. The wagon was motionless as birds sang their calls to one another. She heard talking outside and listened.
"Demons broke through the lines at Scar Gate last night. The defenders retreated to the south of the Yanduin. The evacuation corridor has now been completely cut off."
"Is there any other crossing we can make over the Yanduin?"
"I'm afraid not without a high risk of interception and destruction by the enemy. The entire north bank of the Yanduin is in chaos. I have reports of refugees already turning around to head back north. The congestion will slow them too much."
"By the tears… Have we had any news of the Emperor?"
"I'm afraid not, Sir. Only that the northern front has now shifted south out of the capital. There's been no sighting of any Life Wardens to friendly lines yet."
Oiavëil opened the flap to reveal the grey, sunless sky.
A Life Warden just outside turned at the movement and saluted, "Your Imperial Highness. You're awake. It is safe to step out for now."
She looked around as she climbed out the back of the wagon and down a step placed on the ground. There were high stone walls surrounding what must be an expansive fortified homestead.
Captain Dammaron and his present company all turned and looked at her. They saluted as she approached them.
"At ease," she reflexively replied.
"Your Imperial Highness," said Dammaron, "This is Major Yron."
The human Army officer spoke, "2nd Signal Regiment, Zeroth Squadron, Your Highness. There are 60 soldiers stationed here at this manor."
"Where's my sister?" asked Oiavëil.
"Inside with Her Honour, catching some much-needed rest, Your Highness," replied the Captain.
She nodded. She breathed in the cool morning air as a light fog drifted in. "I believe I overheard that we are unable to head south. Am I correct?"
"Yes, Your Highness," said Major Yron, "I give you the unvarnished truth. The situation is dire." He pointed down at a rough map drawn in the dirt. Two curved, broad arrows were cutting across two ends of the map. "These are the Demon Army's axes of advance. As you can see, they're on their way to fully isolate the northern provinces from the south. Our forces are attempting to slow them down and counterattack to secure an exit, but slowly they're being squeezed closer and closer together. The stone here is our position."
That meant everyone trapped north of the Yanduin had to choose between fleeing east to the mountains or west to the ocean. Oiavëil looked at Dammaron. "What was the full original plan?"
"Evacuate south of the Yanduin and attempt to hold there…" The Captain swallowed and became quiet for a second before continuing in a whisper. "There was a contingency where if that failed, we would evacuate as many people as possible by boat off the Central Continent entirely at its southern tip."
"Abandon the empire entirely?!"
The assembled group of officers looked around after Oiavëil's outburst. There was not any noticeable indication that the soldiers inside the manor or guarding the perimeter heard. Evidently, the lower ranks were not aware of the contingency.
"The Milishial Empire will always be wherever your dynasty is, Your Highness. With enough people to support you, you can rebuild."
Taking the time to think about it, Oiavëil could understand Captain Dammaron's reasoning, but her ancestors chose to stay and fight for the homes their children would eventually come to inherit rather than flee the Ravernals. Even when the entire continent underwent The Ruin, which resulted in starvation everywhere after the destruction of Infildragoon, her family still waited for the right time to strike as the occupiers began to abandon the continent. The Milishial Empire wouldn't have the right to still call itself an Empire without still holding the cradle of elven civilization.
She made a decision. Her duty dictated she would see to the safety of her citizens, but she would not get onto a boat.
"...Is there any hope of breaking through to the south by shuffling troops from the northern front?"
"Very unlikely to be successful, as the northern elements of the Demon Army will have to be deceived into believing the vulnerable gap left by those troops is still defended. If they find the opening and make a penetrating attack, they can roll up on the flanks of our northern line of defences," analyzed the Major.
"Then what will we do if the troops attempting to counterattack the crossings prove insufficient?"
From the grim reaction and lack of answers from almost everyone standing here, there was no further plan, but…
"My Lady, there is something…" spoke Dammaron quietly.
"Then tell us, Captain."
"The Emperor forbade me to talk about this matter to anyone outside the Imperial family, My Lady. Please, let us walk to the corner over there and discuss this privately."
Oiavëil followed Dammaron to where two stone walls met at an angle to minimize the blind spots. She had no idea what Dammaron might talk about, as all the family secrets she already knew of didn't seem to apply to this situation. What was her father hiding?
The chilling wind blew into them from the direction of the group of officers. They could hear some of their murmurings get carried to their ears.
"In the mountains is a hidden facility, a former Ravernal base. The secrecy around it is such that I doubt the Nosgorath's aware of its location, even if he knows of its existence. It should be well-stocked with arms and supplies. Normally, it would even make a good emergency seat of government."
"Hmm? Then why's evacuation away from the entire continent preferred over relocation there?"
"It's the site of the 2nd Great Evil of the Sorcerors, My Lady."
There were three so-called Great Evils of the Sorcerors. They were an especially barbaric set of acts that were a level more depraved than the scouring of the continent's population in their initial invasions. The first was the magic used by the Ravernals to destroy the dragons of Infildragoon and plunge the lands into The Ruin. According to dragonfolk refugees, much of their civilization froze in an instant. Far beyond the immediate area of the massive implosion which crushed much of the dragon capital, the bodies of people stood still forever in the streets and fields of most of the nation. Sculptures of ice and encased flesh frozen halfway through the act of walking, eating, playing, etc. The second…
"The Contagion," she whispered.
"Indeed, My Lady. To the Ravernals, it was Tung Flygplats 14. To those in the know, it's the 0th Index Aerodrome, hidden within Pelóri. Home of the Central Continent's Pal Chimera, and within its depths an arsenal of bio bombs designed to cull 90% of the elven, human, and dwarven species."
"Then there is a risk of infection if we go there."
"Sadly, yes. There were brave volunteers… heroes, who sealed themselves and the bio bombs into the vaults deep below to stop the leaks caused by the partially completed release protocols undertaken by the Ravernals before they abandoned the facility. Despite our best efforts, the rest of the site cannot be guaranteed contaminant-free. All those who now study the Pal Chimera in the great mountainside hangars above the vaults do so at great risk to their health."
As a ray of light peaked through the cloud cover above and landed upon them, Oiavëil was reminded of a passage and recited:
"To brave
the murderous horde,
the silent pestilence,
and the cold hunger.
Woe be to once
fair Milishia."
Captain Dammaron smiled sadly. "The Last Bard's terminal work, The Ides of Súlìmë."
"A treasure lost. The rest of her generation survived The Ruin merely 100 years ago, but now we must risk ourselves to the Contagion again."
"But now we have their hard-learned knowledge. We'll adopt strict containment measures while residing in the Aerodrome. With good practice and luck, we may even be able to use the increased number of minds to advance research for countering the Demons to enable us to take back the Empire."
A moment of peaceful silence under the sun stayed before Oiavëil broke it with an important question, "How many of us will die anyway despite our best efforts?"
The shadows fell over them as the clouds covered the hole in the sky above.
"It would be necessary to venture deeper into the complex and disinfect additional space for new living quarters. Assuming the same proportion of deaths as the researchers suffered historically… 20% of everyone who enters, My Lady."
Oiavëil knew from her studies that the 20% would be mostly the decontamination crews that would have to quarantine themselves room by room. To make it fair, they would slowly rotate out as isolation periods ended. All the soldiers here would likely take on the dangerous task at least once.
There was no way to warn them fully of the danger either. Anyone who learned the details of the Zeroth Aerodrome would be obliged to go to ensure its secrecy. At most, the soldiers would learn that escaping for this secret destination would result in a full fifth of them dying horribly.
Would it be more painful than being hacked and torn limb to limb by a horde of greenskins?
As she pondered her two choices, she felt a warmth emanate through her whole body from her right hand, repelling the cold from the wind. Her fear faded away. She tapped her ring as she made her choice. "Since we are more likely to survive by heading into the mountains rather than attempting a crossing, we shall climb."
"As you command, My Lady… Someone must tell Her Honour she'll have to break her promise."
"She'll keep the spirit of it."
"Your Highness!" shouted an officer from back at the manor. "There's a public message airing over the manacom. You should come and hear this!"
The Princess and the Captain ran across the grass and into the manor's door. As soldiers guided her to the manacom, she could hear a deep, accented voice echoing through the packed room as soldiers gave way to her.
"...all denizens of the so-called Milishial Empire. To all denizens of the so-called Milishial Empire. This is Kronos, the Demon Lord of the Armies currently subjugating this colony.
Your so-called Emperor is dead, crushed by the black stones of Your Enlightened Rulers he sheltered under like a coward. Your little rebellion is defeated. Your fighters routed and scattered into the wilderness. What remains of your leaders have abandoned you, even now fleeing towards boats like the selfish beasts they are. They cannot protect you from the hammer of justice that shall be dispensed against all traitors to the Ravernal Empire.
Those who continue to resist the rightful commands of their betters shall suffer the most terrible of punishments. Their names and histories will be scoured from all memory, and the only testimony to their existence will be the pain and eventual death they shall suffer in full display to you as an example for all. Such is the fate of all traitors.
Have you heard the name of those who led the last rebellion 274 years ago? No? Because we crushed the revolt and erased all memory of the traitors. We do know how they died, slowly eaten alive by insects. Forget the name 'Milishia.' It was never worth remembering.
But Your Enlightened Rulers are not without mercy. To the misguided followers of your cowardly leaders, you can save your lives and return home to your families. You can do so by simply acknowledging that you were misled by the insipid false promises made to you. The pompous bastards who stand amongst you sought power for themselves and, in doing so, ruined your life, relatives, and property. Denounce these traitors and let the guardians of the Demon Army give them the justice they deserve. Surrender your arms, and you will soon reunite with your loved ones in the comfort of your home.
To the unfortunate whose homes were destroyed in the fighting: there is no need to fret. A new Governor shall be appointed, and under their brilliant direction, those homes shall soon be rebuilt even better than before. Law and order, life and prosperity shall return to the colony. Glory to the Ravernal Empire! Ära åt det ravernal riket!"
The foul voice of the enemy receded beneath a chorus of shouts of 'Ära! Ära! Ära!' which stopped for a few seconds before manacom's speakers were shut off by the operator as the message looped from the beginning.
There was a moment of stunned quietness in the room. The silence was kept away only by the creaking of the manor's wall under the pressure of the wind and the faint scraping as the manacom operator turned the dials.
There was a sudden slam on the table. "That lying monster!"
Everyone's attention turned to the source of the commotion. Major Yron's normally pale face was red with fury. "We all know why we fight!"
He pointed at an elven soldier. "Why are you here, Corporal?"
"To fight, Sir?"
"We all are, but why are YOU fighting."
"To avenge my great-grandparents, Sir. My grandmother watched orcs stop them at a toll and torture and murder them for no good reason during the Occupation. She would never fail to show her grief every year on the anniversary of their deaths. Not until her death."
Yron moved on to another elf. "What about you, Sergeant?"
"To do what I should have done long ago, Sir. During the Occupation, I grew up with a human man as my best friend. We were like brothers, and I became an honourary uncle to his children, who grew up and had children of their own. I promised my sworn brother that I would watch over his descendants for him after death.
One night his children and grandchildren had a family reunion and gathered in one place for a great feast. I was invited, but late, and as I arrived, I saw that the Ravernals had locked them all in their home with chains and set the building on fire. I will never forget their screams as I burned my hands on those chains attempting to free them. I didn't have the courage back then to take up arms right away, but after The Ruin, I joined the army to defend us all from another occupation."
Yron nodded solemnly as his face returned to its normal colour. He pointed out another soldier, this time a young human. "And you, Private?"
"I heard stories like theirs, Sir. I've heard the family tales passed down from generation to generation. I will do whatever is in my power to protect my siblings and hopefully my future children from ever suffering under such tyranny."
Everyone's attention turned back to the Major. "We know why we fight. Long as we remember and continue to persist, we shall never lose. It doesn't matter how long it takes. One day we'll drive the Demons into the sea. But before then, we will not surrender to the enemy! Fight on!"
"Sir," interrupted the manacom operator, "there's another message being sounded publicly over the manacom."
"From who?"
"It's the Grand Duke."
Oiavëil felt hope at the news from Uncle Gwestaron.
"Let us hear," ordered the Major.
"Yes, Sir."
"-al Empire… Attention to all imperial citizens, this is the Grand Duke. Though the capital has fallen, the heart of Milishia still stands. Our southern forces under the command of General Roden are holding off the enemy at the south bank of the Yanduin with great courage and tenacity.
If you are north of the Yanduin, I warn you that the enemy has positioned a great host on the northern bank and will make any attempted crossing perilous. General Roden's forces will continue holding the south side of the Yanduin as long as they can to allow those attempting to escape by crossing to do so.
To everyone else who has chosen to remain in the North, I salute your bravery and wish you good luck. Long live the Milishi-"
There was a high-pitched tone that drowned out the rest of the public message. The manacom operator fiddled with the controls, but the tone disrupted every flow. He turned off the speaker. "Broadflow toning on the manacom, Sir. I am unable to tune the tone out. We've lost all communications."
"That means we can't send notice of our movement to General Balin or General Roden," said Dammaron in dismay.
The Major looked from Dammaron to Oiavëil, "You've made a decision, My Lady?"
She nodded.
"Then we proceed with Plan Grey Cove and begin Operation Whisk," announced Dammaron. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small sealed scroll. He handed the scroll to the Major, who broke the seal, unrolled it, and read it aloud.
"You and all your available subordinate commands are hereby placed under the direct authority of the Crown, as represented by the highest ranking member of the Imperial House in your presence. Your orders are to follow Plan Grey Cove wherever relevant and advisable and complete its associated operations wherever relevant and advisable. You are hereby given 0th Index Secret Clearance where it relates to Plan Grey Cove."
Dammaron produced another two scrolls. "With the manacom all toned, we need someone to deliver this scroll to General Balin up north and this one to the Grand Duke or General Roden down south."
"I volunteer to cross the river. I've ridden many a horse before," said the Corporal.
"Are you sure?" asked Dammaron. "You'll have to somehow cross the Yanduin while it's watched by a horde of goblins and orcs. It's extremely risky."
"Yes, Sir. I am as sure as I've ever been."
Dammaron nodded and looked to the Major.
"Prep him the faster of two horses," ordered the Major.
As a couple of soldiers rushed outside, Dammaron approached the Corporal. "What's your name."
"Galad… of Doriath."
Dammaron shook his hand and handed over the scroll. "Namárië, Galad of Doriath. May we someday meet again."
Yron came over and shook Galad's hand as well. "Leave when you're ready. Every hour without that message will mean another hour of needless casualties waiting for someone who isn't coming."
"Who else?" asked Dammaron.
Another volunteer came forward for the safer journey up north.
As the other soldiers crowded around to quickly say their goodbyes to the messengers, Dammaron took out a tube from a pouch in his backpack before addressing Yron, "Sir, the contents of Operation Whisk is a Zeroth Secret."
"Well, My Lady, follow me and Captain Dammaron to the study."
As soon as Yron locked the three of them into the study, Dammaron broke the seal of the tube, removed the cap, and poured out its contents onto a table. He unrolled a map detailing Operation Whisk.
As Major Yyron followed along the arrows and labels on the map, his eyes widened in surprise. "0th Index Aerodrome…" he muttered.
"Home of the Pal Chimera and the Contagion bombs," explained the Crown Princess flatly.
As they discussed Operation Whisk, which detailed options for how they could travel to the Zeroth Aerodrome, Dammaron noticed that Oiavëil's behaviour now mirrored that of her father during his duties as she asked questions and made decisions on their course of action.
Central Calendar Year 1649, Reception, Holy Milishial Empire Embassy, Esthirant, Parpaldian Empire
"Grand Duke Gwestaron abandoned the continent and fled to the continent that would be named after General Roden. Gwestaron, in a state of panic, meddled with Roden's defence measures as he sought to speed up the evacuation of himself and his closest allies. His recklessly hasty withdrawal resulted in an unnecessary loss of life as the Demon Army broke through the weakened defences. Out of desperation, soldiers and civilians alike broke the security lines and violently seized the remaining evacuation ships meant for the builders.
The majority of the Demons chased after them to the continent of Rodenius. The resistance exhausted their lightning gems for their lightning guns and so devolved to fighting with bows and spears. The beastfolk joined the allies, and at the Lean Nou Forest, the combined allied forces of elves, humans, dwarfs, and beastfolk made their final stand. Facing annihilation, they prayed to the gods for salvation. The Sun God responded by revealing a cave hidden in a forested hill and sending forth her Emissaries, the Men of Stars.
Despite not being able to speak the languages of the allied peoples, the Men of Stars quickly joined the four peoples. They launched attacks on the Demons and, with their great power, defeated them at the cliffs of the Shoulder of Orion. Along with a reinvigorated army led by the Four Heroes, the Men of Stars boarded the Demon ships left behind and pursued them to the Philades. The Demons retreated to the continent of Grameus, so a mighty fortress called the Doors of the World was established at the land bridge that links Philades and Grameus together. Afterwards, the Men of Stars left for the West while the heroes headed straight into the dark lands of Grameus. Thus both faded from history.
The defeat of the Demon Army isolated the garrisons left behind in the Milishial Empire, and over time, like before the founding of the Empire, they were driven off the continent.
Neither General Roden nor the dwarfen clans would ever forgive Gwestaron. The Grand Duke parted ways with the General. Gwestaron would secure land from the beastfolk, declare himself Emperor of Qua-Toyne, and claim successorship of the Milishial Empire.
General Roden refused to give himself such a dishonourable title and instead became Consul of Louria by popular vote. His descendants would be regularly elected Consul until after a civil war, one of his great-grandsons, Hark I, became King and abolished the title of Consul. Considering the democratic experiment a failure, Hark I was wise enough to forgo the offered title of Emperor, believing the Milishial Empire still existed. He would be proven right when, generations of humans later, the restored Milishial Empire made contact with the continent of Rodenius in Central Calendar year 484.
Upon learning of the miracle of the Emissaries' arrival and the following great sacrifice of the Four Heroes to defeat the Demons, all parties agreed to the formation of the Church of Four Stars based in the Holy Milishial Empire and the preservation of Rodenius in the Four Star Concordat, also known by later non-Church affiliated signatories as the Convention on Cultural Preservation and Protection of the Lands of Rodenius. As part of this, the self-described Empire of Qua-Toyne was downgraded to Principality as a compromise to the alternative lower grade of Duchy.
So ends the history. Some people will point out that since elves live longer than other peoples, naturally, their historical records will be the most prevalent and, therefore, susceptible to bias toward them. That is a fair point, but I invite you to travel to the port city of Cartalpas in the Holy Milishial Empire and see the historical records for yourself. You can even see various preserved artifacts left behind by the Emissaries in Qua-Toyne and at the Doors of the World in the Kingdom of Topa. However, those are in considerably more remote locations out on the outskirts of the Third Civilization Area.
So concludes the lesson. Any questions?"
Vlad looked down at his translation notes, hastily scribbled throughout for future review and possible corrections and then glanced over at the notebooks of the FSOs. Patricia's notes were more legible and complete than Arthur's, but both died off as the lesson became more unbelievable by the minute. Thankfully, protocol meant they had multiple voice recordings for transcription.
After a few long seconds, Patricia raised her hand. "Does the Holy Milishial Empire have any Core Magic weapons or these bio bombs?"
Ambassador Legomon shrugged as he turned off the seeing stone. "Not to my knowledge. If there were, I am not in a position to know. My government tends to keep weapons secret until they're used in defence of the country. Any others? Then with no questions, namárië, that is farewell till our next meeting. Leave your badges at the guard station outside."
The outer doors opened behind them, and the group slowly walked out in silence as if exiting a movie theatre. Arthur began wordlessly collecting everyone's badges. As he moved close, Vlad said, "Hey Arthur, I'll return the badges."
"Okay then. Thanks."
Vlad took the bundle and walked away from the rest of the group as they headed over through the open gate to the LAV. He had to confirm his suspicions.
As Vlad approached the guard station close enough to drop the badges into the trough that opened up, he locked eyes with the elven guard through the window in the process. A jolt flashed through his mind as the trough closed audibly with a clunk. The sensation was just like a lightbulb suddenly turning on in a dark room. The elven guard's eyes widened in response and just looked dumbfounded as Vlad hastily retreated to the LAV.
A few seconds after the LAV ramp closed and they were on their way back, Arthur muffled himself and screamed into his hands to the initial concern and then annoyance of the LAV's commander. He eventually emerged back after tapping his emotions out. "What was that meeting just now? He completely dominated the meeting with that outrageous story of his. The HME is a post-apocalyptic nation! How are we going to explain what we just learned to Leach?"
How was Vlad going to explain his discovery to Seer?
Over the Phone Lines, New York City
"Hello, this is Mister Richter's office. How may I help you?"
"This is David Steele. Mister Richter is expecting my call."
"Please hold for a moment."
Symfony No. 40 in G minor plays for around ten seconds.
"Thank you for waiting, Mister Steele. I'm transferring you over to Mister Richter now."
…
"Mister Steele."
"Mister Richter. Our partners have informed us that they are no longer pursuing office space at the twin towers of the World Trade Center and, therefore, no longer need our banking services. They returned the money held in escrow for their bid, paid the cancellation fee, and wished us the best."
"Did they give a reason?"
"They cited the headwinds in current market conditions created by the Transference. They reflected on their corporate strategy since they delayed bidding in September. They will seek new opportunities and place their efforts into establishing a presence abroad."
"It's a shame. The chaos in the markets caused the price of space to drop. Unless something unforeseen happens, the value will recover once the markets stabilize."
"To reach our end-of-quarter targets, we'll need to put a new client on the books. Did you have any prepared alternative leads?"
"Unfortunately not. Prospective leads in similar industries to our now former client will likely prove similarly unreceptive to business with us. Perhaps we may have to follow and look outside the United States."
"Are you sure? That would probably mean pushing the targets out beyond the end-of-quarter. I've received indications that general travel abroad won't start until Q2 2002."
"The new world is purported to be massive. We've moved from a pond to an ocean. Perhaps we can catch bigger fish in the new waters, one strong and competitive enough to become an invasive species in our local waters."
"More offices acquired all at once, then?"
"Indeed. The bigger, the better. Keep fishing amongst our former client's friends in case anybody still desires some prime space, and contact me then. I'll start researching the locals of this world."
"Very well, Mister Richter."
Author's Note
Well, bereavement leave, the funeral, and then just a lot of work building a web application in the months afterward conspired to sap my energy and prevented me from finishing this chapter all in one go. On the plus side for you, this chapter was also extra long. Hopefully, the next chapter won't take as much time to write. Shout out to Vectornator (used for this chapter's map) for being a free alternative to Adobe Illustrator.