CIA blacksite, time unknown, 5 days since contact
In about a week, Colt Formal had survived one of the costliest battles for the Empire, returned home to a city on the cusp of lawlessness; was abducted by soldiers from the very same army he had fled from, and was now conspiring against the Empire he had fought for.
The situation was so ridiculous, he would have laughed if circumstances weren't so serious.
His holding cell was comfortable enough: it housed a cot, toiletries, and even a bedside table that used a magical candle of some sort. All in all, it was something he could see somebody within the the upper middle-class possessing.
He heard footsteps approach the holding cell. In his short stay, the only person that visited him was an unseen man by the name of Gary. Their only interaction was from a slit in the cell door, hardly big enough to slide one's hand into.
"Hello, Mister Formal," Gary cheerfully greeted the man, as he always did. "I spoke to my superiors, and they agreed to your conditions."
The man was clearly new to the language: each syllable was drawn out, and almost sounded more like a question. At least he picked up common greetings, easily enough.
"That's good," Formal replied. "When do your forces push through?"
"I can't say, but we will get there before the Empire's army does."
He sighed. These "Americans" loved being vague, didn't they?
He wondered how Italica was doing without his presence; whether the soldiers were still protecting the city or returning to their respective units.
And his two older daughters, as well: with him out of the picture, they would likely fight for control of the Formal Clan. He hoped the head maid could keep things under control in his absence.
"When Myui and I return, we'll still be under protection?"
"You help us, we help you."
Colt had to remind himself that he was no longer in any position of authority: there were no maid-warriors, nor unscalable walls to protect him or his family. He was at their total mercy, and all he could do was ask more questions.
"Do you know what the American army plans to do?"
Gary didn't answer for a moment. The shadow emitting from the door slit flickered out of view for a moment, but returned. Was he speaking to a superior? "Our goal is to remove the head of the Empire."
"Is that all?" he asked incredulously. Vengeance would certainly be a goal of the Americans: if it was achievable, then there would be no reason to abstain from it. There were likely underlying stipulations that they withheld from him, but it was improbable that any amount of probing would get them to open up.
"We will install a government approved by us. Don't worry: you will benefit from it." Gary's shadow shifted again, then paused. "By the way: your daughter is adjusting very well."
Sadera, 0600, 6 days since contact
Emperor Molt Sol Augustus had expected his entourage to arrive with news of the legion's success: another group subjugated with minimal hiccups; a bounty of slaves, land and treasures to follow. But rather than the jovial tales of a general recounting his exploits, it was a captain from the Wyvern Corps.
He held his visor helmet by the hip, his stoic face betrayed by erratic eye movement.
"Your Majesty."
Emperor Molt stared inquisitively at the captain, his unwavering expression raising only a single golden brow.
He relinquished a huff then continued. "I've...uh...I bear bad news."
Molt didn't need any clarification: there was only one thing it could be. He spoke in an authoritative tone worthy of his status, "Tell me what happened."
The captain gave a hesitant nod and read from a parchment. "Your legion was destroyed in it's embarkment to the other world: only a hundred men - including Colt Formal - returned."
A hundred men? Emperor Molt thought to himself. Of the seven thousand he sent fourth? "What of our dragon riders we sent?"
"Destroyed."
"Our ogres?"
"Them, as well."
"Did we salvage anything from it?"
"Well..." the captain read through his parchment once more. "We have gathered several of their women, and one of the weapons they had used to great effect. Though our gains are especially frivolous when taking our losses into account."
Molt hummed in acknowledgement. The mention of a weapon had certainly piqued his interest. "What exactly are these weapons, to have so greatly altered the course of the battle?"
The captain only mustered a faint shrug. "They don't go into specifics: from what I gather, it's a weapon that spews magic from range. Colt Formal has it in his possession, and likely, is preparing it for testing."
"Hmm."Molt rubbed at his beard in contemplation. The senate would definitely want to hear this.
While he was the undisputed ruler of the Empire, his decision-making was mandated by a council of politicians and military leaders, who's judgement he trusted well. Well, apart from Tiberius.
The senate building itself was a large rotunda with a dome at its center, its interior housing rows of podiums along four corners, easily able to accommodate for hundreds of people.
With the exception of military briefers, only the elite were allowed entry. The captain from before relayed the information in front of a large audience of aristocrats. With each passing sentence uttered, the crowd's inaudible whispers slowly grew to conversation level.
Even with the Bunny Warriors, and how fierce they were, never has a the Imperial Army failed to accomplish a mission.
Marquis Casel El Tiberius led the pro-peace faction, appropriately known as "the Doves". As his status would entail, he obviously voiced his dissatisfaction with the decisions made thus far. "Gloating is beneath me, and in this particular situation, would be in especially poor taste. But, I did advise - many times - to recon the otherworld before we did anything rash."
There were a few murmurs of agreement, with equal pushback, but the remainder stayed silent.
"To lose an entire legion in so short a time, is unfathomable. The society - the people - we have antagonized likely hold power well beyond our capabilities."
Cicero La Moltose, one of the pro-war "Hawks", countered, "While the loss of an entire legion within the span of a few days is unheard of, it is but one of thousands at our disposal. Two points I would like to mention: first off, we have heard no reports of a foreign army emerging from the portal, so it could be assumed that they were given a reasonable bashing and are seeking to recuperate. They have a shorter supply line, after all, so why not jump at the opportunity to put it to good use?"
Emperor Molt nodded. It made sense in his eyes: if you have the opportunity to counterattack, why not do it as soon as possible?
"Secondly, even if they were to counterattack at any moment, they would be setting up their own proverbial noose: the further they drive into Falmart, the more difficult it is for them to maintain logistics, while it simplifies ours."
"-and it won't get to that point," Molt interrupted. "I'll send over multiple legions to bolster Alnus and Coda. We do that, and prepare to finish them off."
Both of Molt's children, Zorzal El Caesar and Pina Co Lada, agreed. Pina, though, seemed slightly less enthused about her father's proposition, her brows curled inward, but she clapped nonetheless.
Casel took note of this as an aside. Back to the focal point, to apply one's own logic to an enemy you know nothing about was ludicrous to the man: if they housed different technologies and battle tactics, then it wouldn't be far-fetched to assume they have adopted different values as well. "Your majesty, I see no point in continuing this. Maybe, we can send an envoy to negotiate - perhaps come up with something mutually beneficial."
"I've lost an entire legion to these people, Tiberius," Molt said. Neither his voice nor face change, but there was still a menacing undertone to it - one that sent shivers down the diplomat's spine. "I demand total subjugation."
"Yes, father! These cretins shall soon enough fear the might of our glorious Empire!" Zorzal boasted with fanatic fervor. Like a giant child, he jumped in place and raised his fist in the air.
It was an embarrassing display, but the man was so well-built and obviously unhinged that nobody said anything.
By the gods, if he were to rule, Casel thought. Talks continued for a while longer, but no matter what, Molt had final say. Of course, the majority - somewhere around eighty percent - voted in favor of the war. He wasn't entirely sure, but the destruction of the Empire was a premonition that seemed all too possible at the moment.
He needed to act, but how? If a vulgar display of power by the otherworlders didn't shift the senate's opinion, then what else could he do? He needed more allies - somebody with a close connection to Emperor Molt Sol Augustus. Princess Pina Co Lada might be a valuable asset soon enough. He just needed a way to convene with her.
Coda Village, 20 klicks beyond the Gate, 0900, 6 days since contact
Jefferies, Almus, and Rum split ways. They figured it would be more productive - and inconspicuous - to tackle covert ops on their own: Jefferies remained in Italica to. oversee its temporary government, Rum conducted surveillance on the east end of the Dumas Mountains to keep track of the Wyvern Corps' headquarters, and Almus was tasked with surveying the nearest civilian center to Alnus Hill - Coda.
Almus had hiked up a wooded trail to the village entrance. Coda Village was surrounded by wooden fencing; an arched entranceway with the eponymous name etched onto a hanging sign.
Peering into the village proper was a well, with thatch-roofed huts of various configurations strewn about in dense conglomerations.
It seemed like a pleasant enough community - maybe the equivalent of a quiet suburban locale: children pranced about between the huts as they laughed away, women quietly conversed with each other as they made steady pace to some destination, and the elderly contently smiled away at passersby.
Infact, as Almus set foot into the village, an older gentleman approached him. With a stetson, handlebar mustache, and a leather overcoat, he looked as though he came straight out of an old western. "Hello, there, friend!" he greeted Almus with an enthusiastic handshake.
Despite his age, the man had a strong grip.
"I'm the village chief here, so it's my job to make sure this community is fine and dandy. As long as you aren't here to cause any trouble, then you're welcome with open arms!"
Almus couldn't help but to muster a slight smile, in awe at how animated the man was. "Name's Almus, and I'm just here to visit. I'm a nomad, you see."
"Oh, a nomad, you say?" If at all possible, the village chief somehow managed an even larger grin. "Then what are you doing in Coda of all places?"
It was a gamble, but the chief seemed to be a fairly trusting sort; it wasn't likely for him to grow all too suspicious. Almus decided to provide a half-truth. "Curious about Alnus Hill. I know it's close by, and I heard his majesty discovered something there."
The chief's enthused grin faltered into a weary smile. He tried to maintain a happy facade, but it wasn't entirely convincing. "Yeah, I've had a few thrillseekers come around here for the same reasons as you. I don't know what's going on exactly, but I've told the villagers to steer clear of Alnus Hill - it's a bad omen."
You wouldn't know the half of it, Almus mused to himself. "Why is that?"
"You didn't know? A legion of soldiers went to Alnus and only a few came back. Emperor Augustus is keeping us in the dark, so a lot of us are scared out of our wits."
Almus hummed along. He feigned sympathy, but in reality, the man was thinking of ways to exploit the situation. Not for personal gain, but as a pragmatic way to pacify the populace. He was a former Green Beret, after all: he was familiar enough with the human psyche.
The village chief seemed like a man who cared for his people, and in a situation where they were threatened with obliteration, he would assumably do everything within his power to ensure their safety. He needed to make him lose faith within the Empire, and to place his allegiances elsewhere.
"What do you think might be at Alnus?" Almus asked.
The old man pondered for a moment. He glanced at a little girl as she waved him by, and he waved back. He seemed troubled - and this time he didn't try to hide it. "It's not my place to say. Whatever it is though - it's definitely going to set its sights on Coda, unless it gets contained."
The village chief shook himself out of a daze, then addressed Almus with his earlier friendly cadence. "Anyway, friend, you still plan on heading there?"
"No. Just wanted to hear from someone close to the area."
"Hmm. Well, enjoy your stay at Coda, friend. If you need anything, don't hesitate to ask any one of us: we're a hospitable bunch!" He began to wander off, deeper into the village, before he paused to raise a hand.
"By the way: I heard tale of a monstrous dragon destroying villages. Mine could be next. Best watch yourself, friend." And with that, the chief left.
Almus had a lot of work to be done - and within such a small timeframe, at that. If things go according to schedule, the US military would be arriving the following day.
A dragon, though? It should, in theory, go down to heavy ordinance. A couple of Abrams should do the trick, and if not that, then 155mm howitzers have never failed to make mince meat out of a target.
The Empire's forces shouldn't be arriving for a few days at least: if this dragon attacks before then, the US could wipe it out, then earn the villagers' favor. Hearts and minds: word gets around and more communities would be willing to lay down arms in submission to the "strong yet merciful invaders". Like a domino effect, it'll weaken the influence of the Empire, and make reconstruction that much easier.
With that in mind, Almus set about wandering the village. Getting to know the people was his priority: if their leader was anything to go by, then they would be just as willing to open up to a stranger such as him.
Washington, DC, 2,800 klicks from the Gate, 1800, 6 days since contact
President Jacob Wamsley had never anticipated in his short time in office that the United States would fall under threat of military invasion. The attack was repelled easily enough, but the interdimensional portal in Laredo was a blemish that needed to be rectified. People all over the world had their eyes on the Texas city, and any further instigation could complicate matters even more.
Congress had already approved of a full military intervention, and SoF units operating within the Gate have done well in gathering hard intelligence, but this wasn't some country in the Middle East, nor were they combating irregular fighters without a government: this was an entire continent - potentially an entire world - to pacify.
How long would it realistically take to do this? To what extent? Would public opinion shift against the war by then? He definitely didn't want another Vietnam, Iraq or Afghanistan in his hands.
Currently, forces from the Army were building up in Laredo. Before the invasion would begin, he had planned a trip to the Gate to make a public statement and give a morale boost to the troops.
Maybe, as soon as a proper foothold would be established within the other world, the Empire would be willing to try diplomacy. But even if they did, they might not be willing to settle with the terms allotted.
Jacob felt a sinking feeling creep up into his chest. People were going to die.