Date Time: 1st December 2097 A.D, 2030 hours.
Location: Chernobog, Ursus Empire
Weather: Clear Sky
The Infected scoured through the debris with the twin moons illuminating their search for their fallen comrades, and Originium shards that fragmented away from the meteorites during the Catastrophe. The surprise aerial attack left their morale shattered, like the crumbling buildings around them.
The pilot not following through with the attack spared her from more problems. Nevertheless, the aftermath disrupted the plans she had laid down for years.
"Lady Talulah." A voice interrupted.
Talulah turned to see the Chief Healer approaching her, his green robe fluttering in the wind. Air of solemnity surrounded him as he informed, "The toll has been heavy. 15 lives lost, another dozen mortally wounded and the rest sustained injuries from the flying debris caused by the…explosion. If your Arts hadn't absorbed the brunt of the Catastrophe, more would've met their demise."
The healer then frowned as he saw her hair matted with dried blood, "Do you need treatment, Lady Talulah?"
"No. My injuries are superficial. They will heal in time." Talulah refused.
"Are you sure?"
"Our wounded comrades need more attention than I do. Focus on getting them the help they need." Talulah motioned towards the tents where the wounded being tended. They were dazed. Some were moaning in pain while other lay motionless with their eyes closed, unknown whether they were sleeping or dead.
"Speaking of treatment, how do you propose we use our medical supplies?" The Healer asked.
"Prioritize the mortally wounded. End their sufferings if they could not be saved. Conserving our supply is priority. We haven't fully achieved our objectives." Talulah explained.
"Understood." The healer walked back to his subordinates and relayed the orders.
"Leader, we're. Here." A gravelly voice croaks from behind. Talulah turned around to see an assemble of her followers.
"I trust you bear good news, Mephisto?" Talulah asked.
Mephisto slightly bowed his head, "Forgive me, Talulah. The pests from Rhodes Island managed to slip away."
SkullShatterer couldn't resist a mocking snort at the information, evoking a sharp glare from Mephisto. Further childish exchange was interrupted by a pair of rapid footsteps approaching them.
Talulah flared her Arts and instinctively gripped the hilt of her sheathed sword. Turning towards the noise, a male Forte with a pair of curled horn clad in black business suit dove to the ground before her, prostrating himself.
"It was my fault Lady Talulah. If I hadn't underestimated the incompetent Ursus Guard, I would've discovered the flying machine." The Forte confessed; forehead remained pressed on the ground.
Talulah remained silent, observing her colleagues' response to the Forte's confession. Indifference hung heavy in the air for most, but Mephisto's narrowed gaze betrayed his hidden desires. She sensed his urge to subject Forte to his twisted experiments.
"Leader," Patriot interrupted.
"What is it, my champion?" Talulah asked.
"That flying machine, is no Ursus." Patriot croaked.
FrostNova chimed in, "We believe it belongs to another nation."
"How so?" Talulah asked.
FrostNova exchanged nods with Patriot before speaking on Patriot's stead, "The aircraft design is not of Ursus. Patriot speculate that it's Columbian experimental weapon."
Talulah wasn't sure if she like the idea of being a test subject better, nor did she knew the reason the Columbian would risk a diplomatic incident and losing an experimental weapon in a land far away from their own. Perhaps the distance involved allowed the Columbian to maintain plausible deniability, which would provoke Ursus Empire in shifting the blame to neighboring nations. If that was the case, it aligned with her plan.
Regardless, the core issue was that Forte was not at fault.
"Raise your head." Talulah commanded.
"Lady Talulah?" The Forte whimpered.
"Raise your head and stand up." Talulah repeated.
Feeling the heat of her raising impatience, the Forte raised on his feet.
"The injustice in Chernobog has been vanquished. The Infected has been liberated, and justice delivered. It will not be possible if you hadn't played your part."
The Forte's gaze fell to the ground. Talulah assured, "Remember, one could not prepare for every eventuality."
The Forte remained silent for a few moments, he regained composure and met her eyes. His voice steady as he declared, "I won't disappoint you again, Lady Talulah."
Talulah faked a small smile. She ordered, "Go help your comrades with the preparation for our next phase."
With a firm nod, the Forte strode toward the gathering Infected unloading supply crates from a truck plundered from the Ursus Guard, his crisp business attire standing out amid the faded clothes worn by the others.
"So, we stick to the original plan?" CrownSlayer interjected.
"Yes." Talulah replied.
"What about Rhodes Island and the bastard that killed our men?" SkullShatterer snarled.
"Rest assured. They will pay with their blood…" Talulah replied. She took in the sight of the destruction before her. The stench of death and destruction intimately familiar.
It was always the same.
When an empire reached its peak, decay creeps in, corrupting its once pristine glory. Like disease, this decay will spread through the empire, rendering it hollow and fragile shell of its former self. And just as the enemy approaches the gate… it was already too late. One swift kick, and the entire empire comes crashing down like a house of cards, its legacy forever tainted and forgotten in the flow of time. A pattern every empire doomed to repeat throughout history.
"…But for now, this rotten city must be put on our leash."