Famine, illness, and war encompassed an ogres way of life for hundreds of years. Yet, we were given a chance. A way that we would not be monsters slain by knights. Instead, we'd fight alongside them in battle. We'd become something greater—protectors, not destroyers. What a load of rubbish all that was.
-Chief Kar of the Wyvern Tor tribe
GINZA, OUTER SQUARE
She tripped several times and swore under her breath with each fall. Her heels clinked against the concrete, weaving between abandoned cars and crowds, and a white blouse she wore sported a name tag on the back collar reading out, "Noriko Mochizuki."
Jumping and sliding over the hood of a Toyota, she bolted to the sidewalk and spotted an enormous crowd approaching behind her and fast. Their faces, a distinct tomato shade, and tears, sweat, and snot drizzled and flung down or off their cheeks and chins.
The hair on the back of her neck rose. Small green men armed with crossbows swarmed the streets, giant things in armor slammed their equally large clubs at the ground, causing rocks to fly up. Men and things that were not men behind them. Riding horses with spears and swords and moving upon everyone like shrouded phantoms from a bygone era had risen from the ashes and come for their souls.
Noriko felt the heat. Her heart raced at a million beats per second and harmonized with her steps. Water entered both eyes, forcing her to close each momentarily and bring her forearm up to wipe them away.
Unfortunately, she didn't train for running in heels while blind. Noriko's right foot slipped back off a crack in the sidewalk, and she raised her arms to shield her face. The ground's mere force was enough to send painful pricks throughout her body. Her arm took most of the damage, and Noriko yelped when she felt it dragging across the footpath.
Hot tears flooded her eyes and mixed in with sweat. Noriko placed another hand on her arm and let out soft sobs. The pavement's heat was an afterthought, but it sure as hell didn't feel nice either.
This wasn't fair. One moment, she was reporting on break-ins within Ginza Square. The next, she was running from things one would read about in children's fantasy novels, and now here she lay on the ground with an angry, burning pain in her arm. Exhausted and watching ants scurry across a sidewalk.
Loud steps from behind made the adrenaline kick right back in. She hoisted herself up with the other hand, then jumped up and went back first against a nearby brick wall. Stopping her head short of two inches from contact.
A family and three others bolted by like missiles flying into an Iraq wedding. A large man stepped on a break in the sidewalk where Noriko's head had once been. Clutching her arm, she followed.
If she could keep moving, they wouldn't catch her. That's right, keep running, and she won't be caught like the others. Keep moving, one foot in front of the other, and don't stop for anything.
This thought process lasted only a few seconds when a snap of wind made her crash shoulder-first against boards nailed to the door of a condemned building.
Groaning in pain, she hazily steadied up. Then immediately threw herself back against the door once more. One of those things had come down like a bullet and taken a man into the sky with it. His pained screams as its claws dug into flesh were deafening.
She stared down at the ground, trying not to look. Her heart dropped inside a boiling pot, witnessing even more massive shadows zooming across the road. Her only cover was a sizeable, dirty blue canopy flapping in the breeze over the doorframe.
Lurching her head up, Noriko watched them fly down. Lifting a man, woman, or child and then ripping them apart like they were nothing. She moved both hands to her mouth and stifled a scream.
Noriko searched around hopelessly. She had to hide, she couldn't die, she wouldn't.
Her eyes fell on the boards she'd been thrown into. Two at the bottom were loose.
She fell to her knees and cringed as hot pavement burned her pasty pigment like an egg on a frying pan. Wrenching back a loose board with all the might in her body, it splintered, then broke off so hard that the momentum nearly sent her flying back.
Throwing them aside. Noriko put a heel up at the door, praying it was rotted and old enough that this would work. She kicked once. Large chunks of splinters and chips went flying in and about. Her heel's top piece went all the way up to its pitch, and she had to jerk her leg back before it was fully stuck.
She kicked twice, and her heel went through, knocking out a suitable underside. Noriko then launched forward on all fours and, with all her might, crawled through to the inside.
Scratching and clawing and letting out gasps for air. Noriko felt a warmth wash over her in an excellent way, dragging her legs through. Still on the ground, she went farther and farther until her head smacked against a surface. She glanced up and saw a rickety old service counter.
Stars like the night sky flashed briefly. She launched over onto her back and lay against it. Staring with panicked, tired breaths at the door and listening.
A quick review of the area showed musty chairs, stools, and round tables scattered everywhere, and she smelled a faint rotting. The walls were worn from age and had blue paint with an odd blackish tar substance chipping and dripping off.
Animalistic roars and the sounds of death were almost bursting her eardrums. Forcing Noriko's hands over her head.
Her form went into a quivering mess. She wrapped both arms around her legs and fell to her side.
The screams went on. She kept shielding her ears, but it did little to drown anything out. Her knees reached her chest, and she lay there, trying to keep sane in the insanity. Her eyes wide, breaths came in and out at the speed of light, and her chest rising and falling so fast her heart might just burst out.
They came from around the street, the sidewalk, above her, under her, all around. Dear god, make them stop, please, dear god, someone stop them. Tears covered her face. She didn't know what to do, she didn't know, she didn't know until...
Nothing.
Noriko lifted her head, listening out.
Nothing.
With some set time to reflect on what exact situation she'd been put into, Noriko touched her belly and felt a cold shiver.
She hadn't told anyone. Mama, Papa, and...
Kei...
They'd not even known about him. Noriko shivered again, clenched her teeth, and sobbed silently.
Everything had just fallen apart in such little time. Last week? Amazing parents, great boyfriend, and a fantastic job reporting for the Tokyo Shimbun now meant absolute posh for this week. And now, she was hiding away in a goddamned old, broken down, musty, abandoned cafe.
There had to be a way out of this. She knew the Jieitai and Americans would come. She didn't know how long it might take, but soon, right? Noriko was unsure, and it ate her up inside. But she wouldn't die, not here. She would find a way out of this.
She gave herself a look over before thinking of anything like escape measures. Her blouse's sleeve had been torn from the multiple falls, and cuts lined her shoulder like tally marks. Her right arm was worse off with significant and angry-red scratches.
She lifted one leg, then the other. Nothing hurt or felt off besides a small burning from so much cardio. With that done, Noriko searched around for an exit point
The door she'd come in caught her attention first. It would be her only way out. The way Ginza's layout was, this place certainly didn't have a back exit.
The small section she'd kicked out allowed the sun to shine through. Only a small, tiny beam but enough to give light to the middle of the shop.
She hesitated, then used the counter behind and steadied herself upright shakily. The windows were all boarded up, and there was no way she would be getting them off.
Footsteps right outside nearly sent her back down. But Noriko fastened her grip so hard that the wood felt like it might bend in on itself. There were multiple pairs stomping down the street. So close she could even see their shadows moving by in the small light like dancing devils.
"Quaere aream!" a voice boomed, making her place a hand over her mouth. The origin was from right outside. She even saw the shadows of what seemed to be a large man.
Again, she looked for an exit or a better hiding spot. Her eyes moved around like the shaking tail of a rattlesnake. A doorframe led into the back, and Noriko went for it, with every step she took being slow and methodical.
"Quid erat illud?"
"Puto esse inde. Tu, abi reprehendo!"
Don't come in here, please don't come in here!
Noriko reached the doorframe and went down the hall as fast and quietly as possible. She passed the kitchen and went down its corridor.
A thud against the front door stewed around her heart like it'd been thrown inside a boiling cauldron. There was a closet at the end of the hall, and she saw rusty pots and pans hanging off racks inside, even in dim light. With three quick steps, Noriko damn near jumped inside, turned, forced shut the folding door, and sat in the dark.
Her only illumination was a small light through a tiny crack in the doorframe.
Then, a loud smash alerted her. Noriko heard the debris scatter among the former eating area with such force that it sent chairs and tables toppling.
Go away, go away, go away.
"Lupus, quaere! Ibimus ad sequentem." The voice's origin came from the front door. Noriko tucked her knees into her chest and placed a hand over her mouth to stop breathing loudly.
Then, a deep, baritone voice that growled at the end of every word guttered out, "Oh, iam aliquid olfacio. Hoc celer eris..."
Her heart thudded against her chest like a beating drum. Noriko removed her hands from her knees and began moving them around the floor and up the wall.
She felt something smooth, a handle. Lifting it, Noriko brought the object to her face. The darkness wasn't making sight easy, but she managed to make out the shape of a mallet. She stared, wondering if killing someone was something she'd be willing to do, and remembered who was inside her stomach.
Yes.
She stood. Carefully so as not to make any noise. Noriko listened for the eventual pitter-patter of footsteps and held the mallet with both hands—slouching and mouth agape.
Her hair fell matted with grime and sweat. A small skittering emanated from outside courtesy of a rat. Her shaking hands gripped hard on the mallet, and she swayed slowly in anticipation of what came next.
A footstep froze her. They were slow, multiple, heavy, and deliberate, and Noriko begged them to stop.
But her wish died as the footsteps continued—first, the kitchen and whoever they were made their presence very well known. The footsteps were almost comical as if they were mocking her by stamping their feet down to create a more intense sound.
Noriko clenched both the mallet and her teeth together. Thoughts like can it hear me? And go away, please... circled like track runners throughout her head.
Silence for a moment, and then the steps went on. Past the counter, through the doorframe, and began down the corridor.
Her breaths exhaled like a vacuum cleaner, and she did not cover her mouth this time. Instead, Noriko began raising the weapon up and over her head. A pit of sinking dread filled her stomach, and the footsteps continued. Something faintly putrid filled her nostrils.
Noriko's worst fears were realized. The footsteps got closer and closer until they finally stopped outside the door. She could not hear nor see whatever it was, but it smelled like something had died, and the thing rubbed itself daily with the carcass.
"Olfacio te..."
Her knees nearly buckled. The door shot open, and Noriko's bloodcurdling screams filled the hall.
A shroud loomed over her, but she had no time to discern its features. She went forward with the mallet as hard and fast as possible. A heavy hand caught her arms and tried dragging her forward. The deep voice growled, "Mutus bitch! Veni huc!"
Out of instinct, she raised her leg and snapped her shin right where Noriko thought this man's most precious parts could be. She hit something soft and was thrown back as another scream, which wasn't hers, roared out.
She turned over, not looking back. She burst through a back door outside on a narrow backstreet in three quick steps. Noriko slammed it behind her. More angered screams came from inside, and she ran.
The monsters no longer flew overhead, or she couldn't see them, which meant they couldn't see her. Noriko jogged past a few trash cans and a dumpster before a loud smash came behind. Whoever that was must've gotten outside, and from the roars, it didn't sound happy.
Getting out to the main road, her eyes fixed left. The sun shined down onto the nearby freeway like a heavenly saving grace, and when the sounds of sirens became audible, she immediately bolted forward. She could still hear grunting and stomping feet but did not turn her head back.
Make it to the sirens, and it'll be alright. Sirens, sirens.
Something was after her. Noriko listened to it, trudging its way behind. If she turned, she would see it. It was gaining, she could hear its steps—a kind of shuffling, scratching gallop. But she wouldn't look back. No, she would look ahead at the light. She had to get there, she was so close.
An overwhelming stench made her glance back, smelling like something had rubbed itself in roadkill that'd been left on a hot road for several days. But it was not a man she saw; the thing's snout was long and fluid. Its eyes were a sickly yellow directed at her like a predator—hairy hands with claws tipped like razors running on all fours.
As it saw her looking, its blood-soaked muzzle wrinkled back into a fang-filled smile. Noriko suddenly understood. It wanted her. She didn't know for what, but she wouldn't find out. A burst of speed sent her forward, she was reaching the freeway, hearing police sirens on the bridge.
It crossed her desperate, terror-stricken mind that she could be at home. Drinking tea and letting the cool air relax her while she read a book.
The stink, the stink of it, gaining all around her. It was her heels that finally sent her tumbling over. The brunt of the fall was in her shins, causing a burst of glassy, exquisite pain.
She looked behind and saw the creature bearing down. Its dark yellow eyes and black pupils dilating, the fur on its massive frame mattering, the muscles on its neck bulging, and its maw opening and closing.
Noriko tried to scream but only croaked, it being the only noise she could make. She crawled now, fingers hooking and fake nails cracking, gasping for air, and the second before its claws went around her and dragged her away. A comforting thought formed.
This is a dream. It has to be. There is no real wolfman or monsters, even if there were, those were only in Europe or America. This is only a dream, and I'll wake up in bed. Or, maybe I fell asleep in the van on the way into Ginza. And I-
Then, hands closed around her neck, and Noriko's gasps turned into small puffs. It picked her up, gathering her against its immense and terrible flesh.
GINZA, MAIN STREET
Formal trotted his horse lazily along and watched the battle rage on from the backlines. Getting a great view overtop a hill.
By the gods, this has to be the worst concrete I've ever seen. We're lucky an architect isn't here.
Sighing, he removed a waterskin from his saddlebag and popped the top off. Placing it to his lips, the cool liquid washed down his throat. He wiped his mouth and placed the bag back.
Dear Emroy, why in creation is this place so damned dense?
As they continued through dozens of roads and tight backstreets, this city grew more troublesome to clear and conquer. Formal recognized urban fighting wasn't easy, but by the gods, this place had to be vaster than the Imperial city ten times over.
The back, left, right, and front lines constantly shifted and changed. Sometimes, they'd be in a broad and spacious area. Other times, they'd be so cramped every man was neck and neck. Even packing into backstreets at some points (which there seemed to be an infinite number of)
Searching the surrounding buildings for any ambushes was out of the question. No, it was downright impossible. Formal thought this place would be familiar when setting his sights on the land. From what the wyvern riders had figured out about the sheer volume, this place stretched for miles. Some inklings began forming within his dome.
We've got to be a damned test run.
A sharp yell turned his attention towards the massive medicine wagon with a white tarp over it driven by a dirty and foul-smelling demi-human with large wolf ears. Inside, Hamish's protesting roars and screams boomed out into the city like large boulders from a trebuchet were launching with every word. "Let me out. The wound is gone, you damned fool!"
The old mage within replied, "It has stopped flowing blood but not healed! If you would only wait-" and a skirmish broke out within. Crashing potions, vials, and even what sounded like a small explosion
"I'll rest when I am dead!" more scuffles and crashes. Formal watched as Hamish ripped the curtains open and jumped out of the back wearing new armor. When the two's eyes met, he appeared even angrier. A small vein bulging out from his pinkish head was telling.
"Hello, old friend," Formal smirked, "Had a good time, did you?" He wasn't able to resist smiling.
"Ugh..." Hamish grunted and thumbed back at the wagon, "Get me a damned horse and poleaxe before I snap that old fool's neck."
In a flash, Formal had a big black stallion brought up from the rear guard and a spear that neatly sheened in the sunlight. Formal watched as he took both from the deliverer without thanks, then stepped on the animal's stirrup and hoisted himself up.
Hamish clenched his legs and cantered the new horse up to Formal, who'd taken an interest in some sights while the army slowly advanced.
"Feeling better, I suppose?" Formal asked him when he caught up.
"Never better..." Hamish grumbled, "Where is the boy?" They began moving and caught up with the infantry.
Formal rose a little, "I believe he's leading adequately in our absence. You should be proud, Sir Hamish; he even had some of those barbarian's weapons brought back here."
"I'll be proud when we win. What about those weapons?"
Formal reached into his saddlebag and produced the same strange weapon that had floored Hamish. He held it carefully by three little indents on a curve. "A few of these barbarians had them. Quite small, aren't they?"
"Where are the other ones?" Hamish demanded.
Formal lined the weapon up at the sky and narrowed his eyes. Zeroing in on a flock of ravens who quickly scattered, "Being looked after by many a trusted man and transported back through the Gate."
"Good," He rubbed at his stomach and grunted, "We underestimated these barbarians."
"So we have," Formal agreed. He didn't pull the weapons tickler, "Though that little error seems to have only delayed the inevitable."
"That is what you call it? An error?" he grilled, and Formal nodded. He shook his head and sighed in annoyance, "They pulled something from my wound you might find interesting. It appears to be an ammunition with nonmagical properties."
Formal leaned over at him, "Really, You're telling me these weapons aren't magic?"
Hamish fished through his pocket, showing a small, dented, roundish metallic thing. "This single speck seemed to be the culprit." He noticed Formal making a face, "the caster said some incantation and told me it didn't appear magical. Seems impossible, doesn't it?"
"It does seem impossible, but then again, stranger things have transpired. Must be something like an arrow or a bolt," Formal quipped as Hamish placed the thing back inside his pocket.
They trotted past a crosswalk, avoiding some of the overturned metal chariots. Contemplating, Formal found his voice when they started going uphill, forcing them to hunch forward.
Placing a hand up and blotting out the sun's light from his eyes, Formal inquired, "Might I confide in you, Sir Hamish?"
Hamish flipped his long hair back, answering, "Don't see why not. Go ahead."
"This..." he glanced about the strange and foreign things, "place, it is massive, no?" Hamish shrugged and surveyed with him, "When the scouts returned from infiltration. They apparently reported a city the size of the Imperial capital."
"I'm assuming "apparently" means this isn't true?"
"Exactly," Formal nodded, packing closer as they'd been forced to cram in with the sling shooters who were having a great time marching at skin-to-skin distance. The body heat and the afternoon sun made it nearly unbearable. "Think about it, these are my and a few other kingdom's men. The only imperial presence I can think of would be his Highness Zorzal's ogres."
"There is I and Herm..." Hamish looked at the ground, "but we are..." his eyes went wide, and then he shook his head and said to Formal, "I'm not sure you're right, Count. Why would the Oprichnina send a heavy investment if we are expected to fail?"
Formal pondered it, "I'm not sure."
"Perhaps old age is catching up with you, old friend. Is your "stomach" still feeling unwell?"
"I am in great health!" he urged. "I've not gotten sick in almost twenty-odd years. Until...that...bellyache from earlier..."
"May I suggest the cause? Those demi-humans you've taken in..." he rubbed his beard, "they must be filled with all manner of deadly diseases."
Formal did not show he was upset often, but Hamish had run his mouth for the last time. "Stay your tongue, my good man. I'm not so "deathly ill" that I do not heed against insults towards my person or house."
"There is no insult, Sir Formal. I'm only traveling down the means you could've acquired this vex." Hamish tilted his head and saluted, "warrior Bunny and Tabaxi women are known for-"
"They are not used for that purpose!" Formal interrupted, "That. Is. Final."
Hamish bowed his head down and gave a murmur. He knew through all his boasting and accomplishments Formal was still the better man in one-on-one combat. Why, he'd even caused The Crown Prince himself to have a small amount of difficulty defeating him in a tourney held last year.
Through this city's tall and intricate structure, the army finally stepped out into a view that stopped them momentarily. Surrounded by moats and a vast expanse of plants was a palace whose design was so foreign that even the hardest trained and disciplined men took a moment to gaze upon its unique oddity.
"Why is the roof pointy?" a cavalryman yelled, "Hey, look a moat!" an archer added, "They must be druids; see those plants everywhere?"
"Alright, alright!" Hamish lifted an arm and waved them forward, "It's only a damned palace. Stay silent and keep moving forward!"
A few murmured replies, and they were up and going once more. "Don't think I can't hear that!" he yelled at a group of volralden spearmen whispering to one another.
"Settle down," Formal chuckled. "I wouldn't blame them for being a tad awe-stricken in a place like this."
"I should take a stick..." Hamish grimaced, "Agh, fine."
"Focus," Formal widened his eyes and faked vigilance. "another barbarian with a silly hat may be right around the corner," he placed his palm on his forehead like he was scouting.
"Shut up," Hamish snarled.
And on they marched in a fever dream. Going along and coming out onto the wide-open freeway. Silent as the summer breeze that blew softly in the wind. Strangers in a strange land.
So originally I was going to have another in this with Itami and Herm, but I felt like they didn't really fit the chapter. I think it's either one or two more chapters left before I deviate from canon more than I already have. (in a good way)
Also, thank you all who've followed. I really appreciate it. I won't lie and say that this will be a weekly thing. Updates will be slow because I do have other stuff I'm working on, plus doing military, medieval, and Japanese cultural research is a very time-consuming thing. But I think it'll all be worth it to produce something special. Hope ya'll enjoyed this for the time being.