The assembled army encampment was like a lake of tents when seen at a distance. Dozens upon dozens of white and grey linens drawn up in rows to accommodate the nearly thousand people who had heeded the call to arms and their immediate needs. It was a new experience for a lot of the Rangers who had been born into the various camps within Lonham Forest, with their small communities that rarely exceeded a few dozen in number not giving much in the way of social experience in large groups. Kat was fortunate enough to be more experienced, having traveled through parts of the Empire as a child and having gone on a long journey to the far northern territories after her mother had passed away. She'd been to some of the largest known cities on the continent with populations in the tens of thousands, and had hated every moment of it. So many people packed together in such a small space that it sometimes seemed suffocating, with people sometimes bumping into one another on crowded streets that were often ringed with large walls that sometimes seemed like were keeping the people trapped within rather than keeping intruders out. The wide-open spaces and freedom of the wilderness would always be appealing in her mind, so it was no wonder that she always came back to the Rangers no matter how far her travels might have taken her. Something that was made all the clearer, if no less personally embarrassing, by the feeling of anxiety that was growing within Kat as they approached what promised to be a large gathering.

"Everything alright?" Joker asked beside her, leaning over to get a look at her face. "You just started slowing down all of a sudden."

"I'm fine." Kat answered snappily, picking up her walking speed and hoping the other hadn't noticed the heat rising in her face. The last thing she needed was for others to start taking notice of her discomfort. It wouldn't be a good example to set for the less experienced hunters. "I'm just concerned about how relations here have been between our two groups."

"Ah, I get it." The other nodded solemnly, seeing right through her quick excuse. "No judgment from me. Crowded placed aren't my scene either."

"Your…scene?"

"I mean it's not an environment I enjoy either."

It had been an interesting journey, guiding the two soldiers who claimed they were from a nation called the "United States", a land in a completely different world that was apparently only connected to her own via the Gate that sat upon Alnus Hill. They didn't travel by foot or by bounding between the trees as Kat did, rather they rode upon those strange, wheeled box shape devices that she had seen them with before. They were faster than horses in rough terrain, and there was more than a couple of times where they'd been forced to slow down so that they wouldn't arrive at their destination to early or leave their guide behind. It was fair to assume that they could go much faster whenever there weren't such constraints, or were on more level ground.

They answered one of the questions Kat had been wondering about, as it seemed rather ludicrous for even scouts to have come so far from Alnus Hill all alone. But if they were using such objects as the wheeled boxes, a soulless metal object that didn't need time to heal or drink from a stream, it wasn't so far out of the realm of possibility even if she couldn't imagine what their goals would be so far from where their allied army could realistically travel anytime soon. It was that measure of strangeness that probably helped keep their secret though, as Hexen and the others likely would never have considered that two men would have journeyed so far from the Gate. That, and they all probably had far more pressing issues on their mind at the moment. Both Joker and Reaper had proved to be interesting traveling companions as well, at least whenever they spared a moment from reading a tome that apparently helped translate their own language into the Imperial tongue.

Despite their banter that often sounded like little more than insulting one another, the pair worked professionally in a way that suggested years of experience, often without even needing to exchange words as they traded off responsibilities. They had been wary of Kat in the beginning, being the clear outsider to them in more ways than one, but they had been civil and even friendly towards the end of the journey. Though neither spoke much about themselves, she was able to glean much from their interactions with the wider world. Reaper, for example, seemed to understand survival well and could navigate the forest without much trouble or need for Kat to do more than give him the general direction to travel. But his air was one who did it only because he had to, like a child carrying out tasks outlined to him by a parent. Joker, however, was different. He moved through the forest as if it was his own home, showing curiosity whenever he came across something that he didn't understand, which wasn't all that often. It was clear that he had all the same skills as his partner, but a deeper connection with the wilderness around him like he'd always belonged. He was still a stranger to the animals and trees of Lonham, but it seemed a familiar enough connection that Kat suspected that Joker must have lived somewhere like her own home in the past. It made her all the more curious about the world that was beyond the mythical Gate, but both of them had been fairly tight lipped on the matter ever since they'd let slip the name of their Kingdom by accident.

"It's not the number of people who I worry about." Kat said, trying to brush off his assessment. "I just haven't been to a war camp like this before. You can almost feel both the eagerness for battle and the fear for what it will bring in the air. It's not conducive to one's peace."

"Know what you mean." Reaper agreed. "Even if we haven't been to one like this before, those kinds of feelings are pretty much identical no matter where you are."

"Oh? Your own encampments are so similar?"

"In some ways, yes." Joker answered. "In other ways, no. Depends on how long we've had to get settled, like getting some running water going so that it doesn't seem like all the bad parts of a renaissance fair like this."

The half elf frowned, trying in vain to work out what had to be a coded message behind such nonsensical combinations of works. It seemed like even though they were more or less able to speak to one another now, the words were somehow still very different in their meanings. Not that even basic communication between them was easy at all, as Joker and Reaper both seemed to have trouble grasping nuances of the Imperial Language even after intensive study sessions and liberal questioning of Kat for words they didn't understand. By this point they could talk in simple sentences and could pick up enough context clues from others usually understand what someone else was saying to them. But any deep conversations about religion and other topics was still far out of their grasp.

As such, Kat had been forced to rely on her magic for any detailed questions or answers during their travels, which proved to have its own difficulties. She'd learned the spell during a stay at a friendly tavern when she was still too experienced to make conversation with the dwarven owner when a full-blooded elf patron had decided to show some kindness. She'd never expected to have need of it while she was so close to home and thus hadn't even tried to practice it in quite a while. Casting it required focus of both the mind and spirit, so she hadn't been able to make use of it while they were on the move in the beginning. But she was improving once more, and had been able to keep using it ever since they'd hidden the wheeled boxes and began their approach to the encampment. It was a temporary solution, but with the way the gods seemed to running things these days, Kat felt better having that spell at the ready with as little limitations as possible.

"The meeting tent will be in the center of the Camp. That should be where we'll find Lord Duron."

"And whoever else we have to suddenly play nice with." Reaper said, his voice dropping in volume as they entered the encampment. There were many that were going about their routines without paying much mind, such as eating, socializing, or praying with what passed as their armor and weapons sat nearby. Many stared at the newcomers as they passed by. "I'm seeing a lot more of the scared variety than the eager here."

"They look like that village militia we saw when first getting here." Joker observed. "These aren't professional soldiers."

"No, they're not. These were all that rallied to their ruler's cause after the disasters at Alnus Hill."

"Right…"

As they continued on, Kat noticed that while Reaper was doing his best to not make eye contact with anyone at all, Joker seemed to be taking it all in with a shadow over his gaze, clearly lost in thought. Fortunately it didn't take long for them to reach their goal, allowed to pass through after Kat gave their names to the pair of guards at the entrance.

They were not the first ones to arrive, it seemed. There was Hexen and his ever loyal retainer of course, then Camp Master Joakim standing on the opposite side of the table, and then two others whom Kat didn't recognize. The first was a man who was probably in his late thirties or early forties and looked very uncomfortable wearing even the light armor he was clad in. The other was a woman who looked to be even older than Sir Myron, her dark eyes studying the newcomers in the room. Both gave off the aura of nobles.

"Not a moment too soon." Hexen smiled and waved them in. "These are the ones I was talking about. Sirs Joker and Reaper of the Soldiers in Green, and of course Lady Kat'lana of the Forest Rangers. I hope your travels weren't too difficult."

"The path not too bad." Joker said in Falmartan, nodding in greeting before glancing at the other two. "Do not know, new allies?"

"This is Duke Raia and Duchess Elyse." The Lord made introductions. "And of course, Master Joakim, I'm sure Kat has already told you about him."

"Little. Good to make greetings."

Kat gave a small wave of greeting to Joakim and got a subtle hand motion in return. It sounded like things were a bit rocky here, but at least they weren't unsalvageable. They were in a precarious situation here, even more so than the others in attendance realized. The Rangers were already disliked by their House Duron Allies, even if Lord Hexen had been civil thus far, stepping out of line and suggesting the wrong thing could be a mistake. And that didn't mention that no one here could find out that Joker and Reaper were not some traveling mercenary mages. It could prove fatal, something that none of them could afford. This could take some careful navigation, and it would be best if they just stayed quiet unless necessary.

"Preparations seem large." Reaper observed, hooking a thumb over his shoulder to indicate outside the tent. "Moving soon?"

"We're left with little choice in the matter." Myron grunted. "The Orcs have moved faster than we expected, and are already nearing the heart of the region. They need to be stopped here and now."

"I still think that our best move would be to withdraw back to the Duron Estate." Duke Raia said, his voice just above a whisper. "Its fortifications would allow us to withstand any siege the Warband may attempt."

"Just like a Raia, wanting to do nothing but cower behind the walls." Elyse scoffed. "If you're too afraid to fight, then you should have stayed behind with the old maids. Made yourself useful with knitting some socks or gloves for the real soldiers."

"Old maids?! That's quite ironic coming from such an-"

"We have already discussed that suggestion before, Duke." Hexen loudly cleared his throat. "As I said, it won't do us any good to be safe behind the castle walls if the surrounding countryside is ravaged. They won't care about conquest so much as looting and pillaging."

"A problem for the peasantry rather than us..."

"It leaves us little choice but to challenge them before they spread out any further across our lands." The Lord continued as if he didn't hear Raia's mumbled comment. "The Warband has made camp not far to our Northwest, and we believe they will continue in our direction by the time the sun rises once more."

He pointed to the large map on the table before them, chess pieces being used to represent the different forces and their locations. The orcs did indeed seem to be far closer than Kat had last heard and could potentially be at Lonham Forest within a matter of days if they weren't stopped.

"The normal strategy in dealing with a group this size is to bring heavy force to bear against it, enveloping the whole group and slaying the Warlord that the other orcs have rallied around. Without their leader, they collapse into infighting with one another as the strongest among them vie for personal power."

"Which is not as easy as it may seem." Myron added. "Warlords not have to be quite strong and capable to earn the respect of their fellows, but they also very often have the ability to think beyond the immediate moment like most orcs do, allowing them to make plans and tactics and appreciate the odds against them. While they usually still rely on brute force to win the day, they will be resistant to the most obvious tricks or traps."

"And this warlord in particular seems to be particularly wily, thus far resisting our attempts to make him divide his forces and catch the orcs in a pincer or other maneuvers." Hexen nodded. "As it stands, we don't have either the numbers or the experience to try to overwhelm and catch their leader in a battle, and they know it. Based on their latest moves, the Warband wants to bring our host to a final battle to defeat us and allow them free reign to do what they want in the region."

"By the looks of things, you want us to oblige them."

"I do, but on our terms. We'll be able to set up in a battleground that will favor us as the defenders without having to resort to hiding behind the estate walls." He pointed on the map to a spot that sat between the two camps that had several geological features drawn about. "This spot of land here is an ideal battleground for us, with a river anchoring our northern flank and rocky hillocks to the south, forcing them to come at us head on. They could take a couple of days to try and come around our positions, but this Warlord is clearly in an aggressive mood. He'll be eager to attack, even on disadvantageous terrain."

"Because one doesn't need to be a tactician to see that the odds would still be in their favor in such a case." Joakim pointed out, not challenging the nobleman but pointing out what they all could see. "It's as you said, they outnumber us and will be fiercer than your militia. Even in the scenario you outline, it will take a miracle for us to turn it into a decisive victory. Anything less will leave them in a position to finish us off in a follow-on fight."

"We don't need to beat them in that way, just to hold them off until our real plan comes into play." Hexen nodded at the Soldiers in Green, and Kat could see both Joker and Reaper tense slightly as all eyes turned to them.

"Ah yes, your mercenaries." Raia didn't bother to hide the disdain in his voice.

"My Lord, is it truly wise to put all our hopes on two men?" Elyse asked. "Even if they are wizards, I don't see how they can turn the tides as dramatically as you seem to believe."

"Only because you haven't witnessed what they can do." There was a desperate kind of optimism in Hexen's eyes as he looked upon his newfound allies, and was pinning all his hopes upon them to make this work.

"What you will have us do?" Reaper asked. "Cannot best many people alone."

"I'm not asking you to single handedly defeat the Warband, just carry out one exact task at the exact right moment." Hexen put another new game piece on the map, the Black Knight. "The hillocks can't be used for proper flanking maneuvers, the ground there is too rough for anyone outside of the Rangers to get close to the enemy. But, if you can maneuver to this spot here about halfway around the expected battlefield, one would have a fantastic view of the battlefield."

"Including the Warlord." Joker rubbed his chin thoughtfully.

"Exactly. I seriously doubt he'll be foolish enough to be at the very front of the action as they often are more willing to sacrifice their fellows rather than take the risks themselves whenever possible. But leading too far from the rear would also lead to challenges in their authority, If everything goes according to plan, the Warlord will be near the center of their ranks and be visible to you from the Hillocks. All you need to do is locate and kill him once you're in position."

"And then the warband is just supposed to just, what, disappear?" Kat asked, unconvinced.

"Not right away, as desirable an outcome as that may be." Myron shook his head. "The orcs will continue battle for a time, but without their leader, a power struggle will break out as the strongest survivors vie for control over the others. It ends up breaking up the forces into quarreling factions who either go their separate ways or continue clashing with one another. While I've seen instances where they've almost completely destroyed one another, we should plan for the eventuality that there will still be a number of groups to be mopped up afterwards."

"But those groups will be small and disorganized." Hexen clarified. "And shouldn't be too much trouble to deal with, even if we sustain heavy losses during the fight tomorrow."

"When you put it like that, then this plan does seem rather sound." Joakim said. "So long as we can hold out long enough for your mercenaries to do their job, it might just be our best chance for victory."

"My thoughts exactly." The Lord nodded, then turned his attention to Joker. "The biggest problem with this plan is getting you into position and making sure you'll be safe until the time is right. We'll have to send a group of Forest Rangers with you to both escort and protect your rear from any orcs who may split off from the main force and make their way to the hillocks. It shouldn't be more than a few, but that will still require us to sacrifice forces from our primary position to-"

"Not need."

"...Pardon?"

"Not need." Joker repeated, shaking his head. "We hide well. Can get where wanted. Not be seen. Not need help."

Hexen exchanged glances with Myron, then Kat who could only shrug. Hiding in the forest was one thing, but avoiding being spotted by groups of rampaging orcs was quite another. Even Joakim may not have been able to pull off such a feat. But when she opened her mouth to offer to go with them, Joker's eyes met hers in a sharp way. Whatever way they wanted to do this, they wanted to do it alone.

"I think we can trust in their abilities. Besides, we're going to need everyone we can on the frontline if we want to have a prayer of surviving this." She said instead.

"You have a point."

"One thing unsure, though." Reaper piped up. "Battle King, how to see?"

Everyone paused, looking at one another and the Soldier in Green for clarification.

"I believe he's asking how they'll know the warlord from the other orcs." Joakim guessed. "Am I correct?"

Reaper nodded appreciatively.

"I don't imagine that will be terribly difficult." Hexen said. "They should be the one shouting out orders and not actively trying to get into the fight. Find that one, and you'll have the warlord. And you'll be swimming in gold and silver not long after."

"Simple. Can work with that."

"I still think this plan is reckless to the extreme." Raia again protested. "We should withdraw behind the walls of the Estate until Sir Edwin comes with-"

"We. Are. Not. Waiting." Hexen's voice was barely above a whisper, but it held a cold fury that sent a shiver down Kat's spine. "We don't know when or even IF my cousin will ever arrive, and if you'd bothered to look at where we are, you'd realize that the very heartland of the region is under threat, where our farmlands and much of our population live. Withdrawing now means dooming the people to famine, and that's those who are not driven from their homes or slaughtered outright. I will not allow any more of my people's blood to be spilled without a fight, and I will NOT broker this argument with you again. If you are too cowardly to do your duties, then return home and I will give command of your forces to Duchess Elyse."

The duke glanced at his counterpart, who was now wearing a chilling smile of her own that seemed to almost beg him to do just that. Finally, withering under his Lord's continual glare, Raia sighed and shook his head.

"That won't be necessary, My Lord. I'm with you to the end."

"Good." Hexen looked back at Joker. "Need I ask if you'll accompany us to the battlefield?"

"Will travel own path, leave before first light. Be in place by arrival moment." He replied. "Only want parchment, er, map?"

Joker glanced at Kat, who nodded affirmative.

"Yes, want map."

"Of course." Hexen passed over a small scroll. "It's not as broad ranging as the one before us now, but it gives enough information on the local area that you should be able to find your way. If you have troubles, retrace your steps back to us and we'll simply travel together."

Joker unraveled the map, he and Reaper looking over it for a moment before putting it away on his person.

"Will work."

"Good. I ask the rest of you to remain here so we may work out the exact deployment of our available forces." Hexen said to the nobles and Joakim, obviously done talking with the three of them. The Camp Master likewise gave a dismissal gesture, and Kat exited the tent once more with the two Soldiers in Green.

"Well, that was something." She said as her spell once again took hold. "I knew things were bad, but I didn't know we'd grown so desperate."

"You think his plan is a bad one?" Joker asked

"I've never faced a full warband before, so I don't know." Kat shrugged. "If the Lord is right, and I don't see why they wouldn't be given how the Knights here should have fought several in the past, then I think it's not all that bad. I only wish we had more Rangers to spare, then we could slow down the enemy with ambushes like we used in the forest in order to lure out the Warlord. But there's just too many of them, not enough of us."

"Just leave everything to us." He smiled at her, a gesture that told her that somehow everything was going to end up alright in the end. "We won't mess this up. Just slot the big guy and then we all get to become heroes."

"Speaking of which, how exactly do you plan on reaching your goal without being spotted?"

"We've still got a few tricks up out sleeves." Reaper said. "Don't worry about us, just make sure you all don't get yourselves killed trying to fight those things."

"We'll buy you as much time as we can." Kat glanced around them. "We should all get some rest before tomorrow, but I doubt either of you would be comfortable within the encampment."

"Not really." Joker agreed. "We're going to head back to where we stashed the rest of our stuff, try to catch a few hours of sleep each before we head out. You're…free to join us, if you want. A third watch would be useful."

"Thanks, but I should be with my own people now." Kat said, surprised at how tempting she found the prospect. Her own curiosity about these outsiders was more powerful than she imagined. "Some of the more inexperienced hunters here will need reassurances before the night is over, I have a duty to help however I can."

"Then I suppose this is goodbye for now." He and Reaper faced her, giving a motion with two fingers at his brow. "Be careful tomorrow."

There was the obvious argument that this whole plan was effectively throwing caution to the wind, but Kat couldn't bring herself to say it out loud. As she watched the pair depart in the dwindling light of the evening, she gave the gods a silent prayer for their safety. For all their safeties.

~oOo~

"The Heat just doesn't have it this year, not with Curry pretty much carrying the Warriors. I'm betting they'll be facing down the Hawks this year in the finals."

"Eh, I dunno about all that. Not really someone who follows basketball all that closely to be honest."

"No? Then what do you follow?"

"I'm more of a baseball guy. Think the Royals have a good chance of going all the way this year."

"Baseball? Boss I don't know if this is gonna work out."

The accommodations given to SOG Team Delta at Edwards Air Force Base were rather simple, bunks and racks for the living space that extended into what equated to a combination living room with television and kitchen with little more than a sink along with a refrigerator that was probably two decades out of date. It lacked creature comforts, including a consistently working AC system, but it was also out of the way enough that no one that wasn't in the know didn't come to bother them. That was already important enough for a group of CIA Operatives on a day-to-day basis, but it also allowed for training that otherwise would have been a lot more difficult out in the open under the guise of "Weapons Testing" that the installation often conducted. When they'd first arrived following the action in Tokyo, they'd been assured by Agent W that it was going to be a short-term living situation. That had turned out to be as true as they'd expected it to be as she had made preparations to go back and forth from there and Langley instead of booking the tickets back to Japan.

Still, Maze didn't waste time or energy stressing about elements that he couldn't control. The strategic objectives, and the politics that directed them from the sidelines, were set and controlled by those that were far higher up the chain and made a living "thinking" about the major problems. Delta Team's job was to be the sharp end of the bayonet that acted as the solution.

"What about you, Ghost right? Throw me a bone here." Delta's LMG gunner, Bronco, prompted. He was built as one of expect of stereotypes his position implied, tall and bald headed but with large muscles that suggested that most of his hobbies were located in gyms. The team medic had joked that he had been forced to make the change from the 82nd Airborne to the CIA because his muscle mass had become too much for the transport planes to accommodate.

"Sorry, I don't really follow any sports." The squad's new demolitions expert, who carried the name "Ghost" over from his time in SEAL Team Two, seemed to be the opposite in many ways. Though still obviously athletic, with a full head of dark hair and slight stubble that framed a gentle face and demeanor that would have suggested a career as a philosopher or perhaps an architect, rather than what was quite the opposite.

"Oh come on, didn't you play football or something in High School?"

"Nope. I was a theater kid."

"God have mercy."

Delta Team had never been the "men in black" types with the dark suits and sunglasses that most imagined when they thought of the United State's most secretive agency, working in warzones tended to ruin expensive clothing after all, but their recent additions did even more to bury that kind of fantastical thinking. Adding three new members to an existing team of six was bound to cause some growing pains, but that was one of the reasons they had been given their own space for training. They could storm and bond with one another as much as would be required. For moments like this, Maze let them hash it out for themselves unless he had to step was otherwise brought up in the conversation.

"Raptor, you're my last hope here." Bronco turned to the last new addition. "Tell me you watch basketball."

"Oh I watch it alright." Raptor answered, not looking up from the translation book that transcribed the Special Region's language to English. The former Ranger had her boots kicked up on the small table, studying in a nonchalant way that one might have thought that her expertise as a linguist and translator would have been brought into question, had the Captain not seen her service record and psyche report that went a long way to explain why she was a better fit in her other role as team's secondary pointman rather than some teacher in the world of academia. "I root for the Utah Jazz."

"Now I know this is some kind of conspiracy. A test of my patience, right? To see what it would take to send me over the edge."

"Hold on a second, I think we can make peace here with a simple agreement." Deuce, the newbie that Bronco had started the interrogation with, interjected. He had movie star good looks that made him appear like if Denzel Washington had decided to become an Army Combat Engineer rather than be on the big screen. He'd tended to keep to himself ever since arriving, but was starting to come around and join in with the extroverted natures that most of the others had. "Fuck the Patriots."

"Oh yeah."

"I'm with you there."

"...Alright maybe we can make this work after all."

That brought a snort of amusement from Maze as he stood in the corner. He'd been a little concerned to how the tight knit squad would react to the changes, remembering his first assignment with the Green Berets had seen him given the cold shoulder by his fellows who didn't want to deal with the trouble of bringing in another member. Fortunately that didn't seem to be a problem here. Maybe it because for all their differences, the new and old members of Delta also had a lot in common. They were an eclectic bunch to say the least, outside Maze they would not have been the type of troops that General's would want to see on the cover of "Military Times", but that wasn't what he or W were looking for. They weren't the very best of the best, but they were the best at what SOG needed.

In terms of numbers, the team wasn't quite up to full strength yet, but Maze was happy with where they were in terms of skillsets, even overlapping in certain areas that allowed the secondaries of a particular role to be not far behind their primaries in terms of effectiveness. The next major steps were to get them working together like a well-oiled machine by running them all through a rigorous training set. They'd need to know one another, how they would react under pressure, small but noticeable details that allowed for a deeper trust beyond just the usual camaraderie that came with similar service records.

"I see you're all getting along." The door swung open as Agent W stepped inside. "Good, I was worried that you all would have hot potato with hand grenades or something while I was gone."

"We tried too, but the Captain took away all the bombs. Spoilsport." Kaz, the team's JTAC, answered. "But seriously, when are we going to get some better Wi-Fi out here? Trying to piggyback off the base network is so slow that I'm pretty sure the satellite orbiting Pluto gets better reception."

"Welcome back." Maze nodded, ignoring both comments. "We weren't expecting to see already, thought your plane landed in LAX just a couple of hours ago."

"It did. But it wasn't like there was anywhere else I had to go." She waved a hand dismissively.

"I see." He commented neutrally, fighting against the urge to point out the fact that W had probably sped to get here so fast. Maze never understood why many of those who worked for the government seemed to just discard laws like speed limits so casually. "Anything new we should know about?"

"Plenty. But if you're hoping for orders to leave for Tokyo tonight, I'll have to disappoint you."

"God dammit." Dusty groaned dramatically. "If we're going to stuck waiting, can we at least do it somewhere more comfortable? It's not like we're in the middle of Iraq."

"No." Maze answered for her. "We're going to be running through drills here that I've had specially set up. Moving into normal housing here could cause unnecessary attention."

"Sadist…"

"If I were you, I'd enjoy the creature comforts here while you still can." W interjected. "The World beyond the Gate is extremely archaic, and we'll be heading for it soon."

"No offense Null, but you've been saying that for a while now." Bronco retorted. "I'm starting to think that maybe the Japanese just don't want us back."

"The Japanese aren't going to have much choice in the matter soon enough." Their handler responded sharply, and Maze thought he could almost see the annoyance radiating off of her.

"Is President Ryan suddenly willing to play hardball?"

"We're not the ones who are starting to force the issue." She shoved Raptor's boots off the table without warning, earning a glare from the linguist that she ignored while laying out one of the ratty maps they kept around for reference. "China has been making some rearrangements, shifting forces north from the straights of Taiwan to the coast of the East China Sea. And I'm not talking about the usual showboating and parades that theyn like to make a public spectacle of whenever they get pissy. They've been trying to do this quietly, which means the CCP is taking this seriously."

"Are they preparing to attack?"

"Doubtful, at least for the moment. But they've definitely been concentrating power towards the aims of potentially suppressing any defenses, especially those on Okinawa." W traced her finger further north, past the Korean peninsula. "And then there's Russia, who's been massing air and naval power near Vladivostok. Units belonging to both the VDV and Naval Infantry have likewise been reported in the area, and not for any exercises."

"They both want the Gate." Maze nodded solemnly.

There had been frustratingly little information about what had been going on in the Special Region, even for those "in the know". Wild speculation abounded in the online space ever since this whole saga began. After all, it was impossible for the public imagination to not be captured when an ancient army from another world suddenly appeared in the middle of Japan to attempt an invasion. Even when the fast-paced news cycle had turned its attention to other matters in the day to day, it was an event so reality shaking that it was never really gone from the minds of many around the world. Some of the forums were dedicated to more benign and genuinely curious discussion, such as comparisons to the footage captured of the soldiers who had stormed through Ginza to artifacts the ancient Roman, Greek, and medieval artifacts. Others focused more on the nonhumans who had been part of the invasion, speculating on what kind of environment the Special Region would have to be to create such creatures. And then there were the outright conspiracy theories, about how the Gate was really a Stargate that Japan had been experimenting with and had gone wrong, about how the Gate wasn't actually real and how it was a slight of hand to distract the world population from the action of some ambiguous "them". Then there was the theories that were likely being spread as intentional misinformation, including that the JSDF were carrying out mass executions and other repulsive crimes to the populations beyond the Gate, or that the United States had begun pushing aside the Japanese and taking charge of all operations and governance after the discovery of oil deposits.

But that was your average internet chatter. Nations, with their own intelligence agencies and security apparatuses, were somewhat better informed as to what was likely true and what was false, but not as much as they doubtlessly would have liked. Even allies such as the UK and South Korea were constantly prompting for more information, something that the United States ironically also wanted more of. Their adversaries were doubtlessly doing their best to weasel whatever intelligence they could from wherever they could. It was safe to assume that they had managed to learn something, as no Operational Security measures were perfect no matter how carefully implemented, but there was no way to know at the moment what that was and whether it would heighten or lower tensions.

"There's no way Japan hasn't taken notice." Raptor leaned forward in her seat; her irritation evidently having been overtaken by curiosity. "Two of the biggest kids in its neighborhood suddenly taking an unhealthy interest in them have got to have a few sweating."

"They're playing it cool at the moment, saying there's no immediate cause for alarm. But we think it's just a ploy to buy time, time to figure out what the Special Region actually is so that they can have some grounds when it comes to negotiations. The last thing the JSDF wants right now is Uncle Sam taking the wheel, so they're doing the best they can to strengthen their hand before inviting more of us in to help."

"It's because they know we're going to want something out of the Gate." Kaz said, fiddling around on his phone until he realized everyone was looking at him. "Oh come on, I'm just saying what we're all thinking. Sure, Japan is an ally and we absolutely want to help them, but we're talking about the possibility of an entire other world just a short hop skip and a jump away but is only accessible through Tokyo. If it's like Earth, then it'll have resources that we badly want. Oil, rare earth metals, you name it, all guarded by a nation that seems to have no idea what gunpowder even is. Eventually, we're going to want a piece of that pie, and Japan knows it. The more we help, the more we're going to want in return, and they're not eager to open that door if they feel like they don't have to."

The room was silent for a moment as they all digested what had been said. He was right, they all understood the ugly truth of the matter. Helping friends was nice, but nations almost never went to bat for one another unless they felt like there was something to be gained from it, either real and tangible or something as basic as propaganda. And there was a lot more than words at stake when it came to this "Special Region". It was strange, and more than a little ironic, that for Special Operators like them who could assassinate or topple governments at a moment's request, this was making them metaphorically squeamish.

"Those kinds of talks are way above our paygrade." W cleared her throat. "Either way, Seven is most likely right. They won't ask us for help until like they feel like they need it."

"Hell of a gamble to hope that nothing goes wrong in the meantime."

"Maybe, but things haven't quite reached a boiling point yet, and no one wants to risk war here unless they're sure it's something worth fighting over." The Agent crossed her arms, and Maze could tell that despite her apparent acceptance of the situation, she wasn't any happier about it than they were. "Which is why we're left in limbo. The Company wants us through that Gate ASAP when we get the go ahead. But until then we're in a holding pattern."

"Alright, so we're waiting for marching orders. Nothing groundbreaking there." Ghost said. "What I don't get is why we're standing by here in a California desert? I get it, the Captain's been able to set up some training grounds on short notice, but why not have us on Okinawa? Or hell right in one of our bases in Japan proper? There's bound to be some way we could make that work."

"That particular argument was one that I made nearly for word. But the President doesn't want to move any new assets into Japanese territory that could risk our own 'friendly' disposition, making us look like we're just sitting in the sidelines desperately waiting to be put in the game."

"I mean... isn't that kind of what we are doing?"

"That's not the point. The point is that the powers that be believe that we need to not put any pressure on the Japanese so that when they come to their senses, they won't feel like we've been the ones backing them into a corner and will be even more open to our 'suggestions'."

"God, I fucking hate politics."

"You're not the only one." W sighed. "Director Wright is doing his best to change the President's mind, but so far there's been no sign of him budging."

"Then he needs to be aware that we can't make any further progress on the study of the Special Region's humanoids." Tex spoke for the first time in several hours, adjusting her glasses as if for emphasis. "Autopsies can only go so far. And while I can't speak for the JSDF, it doesn't appear that the Marines were given the right equipment or expertise to conduct deep biological studies."

"Your report and recommendations were included with the Intelligence packet that the Director presented. As you insisted so very often."

"The point is that we're not leaving for either Japan or the Special Region. Not yet." Maze interjected, trying to head off an argument before this descended into yet another clash between the scientist and the spy. "And to put it bluntly, that's good for us. We need more time to reassemble ourselves into a unit that can operate within the looser bounds of the Special Region. Language studies, survival and evasion, and operating without GPS or other satellite assisted systems. Which means we're going to clamp down on the complaints on focus what we CAN control in the here and now. Understood?"

A chorus of grumbling acceptance sounded out.

"Good. We'll be heading to the range in an hour, running tests to get your motor reflexes used to fighting these new kinds of opponents with an emphasis on snap shots while retaining accuracy. We're expecting to usually be operating in groups of four to five so that's how we'll conduct most of the training. Spar you take Dusty, Bronco, Ghost, and Tex for your run. I'll take Raptor, Kaz, and Deuce." He glanced at W. "Care to join us and round out the teams?"

"...sure. Could use something to shoot at for a while."

~oOo~

The large and regal tent that Hexen was staying seemed far smaller and less than comfortable on this night. It had been personally crafted for the Duron Family for use during campaigns, but though it was grander than any other within the camp, it was still older and less spacious than those that his father and uncle had taken with them in their final battles. In that sense, perhaps it was fitting to its current occupant: no one's first choice, but all they had to make do with. He did his best to push those kinds of thoughts aside as he sat on the grass floor within and tried to quiet the turmoil in his mind. He'd hoped that by the time that he'd finished polishing his armor there would be some semblance of peace. Then he hoped it would come after he finished with his weapons. Now, he just wanted the pressure that felt like it was grasping at his lungs would relieve and let him draw breath without feeling like a boulder had been set upon his shoulders, growing in size as time passed.

He wanted to yell. He wanted silence. He wanted the battle to just be here already. He wanted to never hold a sword again.

So lost in his own thoughts was Hexen that he nearly jumped out of his own skin in surprise when his tent guard stuck his head in.

"What is it?!" He demanded more harshly than intended.

"Camp Master Joakim to see you, sire." The Guard said. "Is this a bad time? I can send him away if you wish."

Hexen hesitated. His initial reaction was to take the guards offer, to take this moment to be alone while he still could. There had seemingly been endless amounts of face-to-face meetings before and after reuniting with the main force, talking with scouts and soldiers alike to iron out the last details of his strategy before the sun dipped below the horizon. Myron had been hovering over his shoulder the whole time, acting the part of a dutiful retainer and offering what aid he could every step of the way. Hexen could never have done any of it without his onetime tutor, and he would forever be grateful, but by the end of the day every thought felt as painful as a hornet buzzing through his skull. He'd wanted to be alone. To have a quiet moment to collect himself and prepare for the coming struggle. But even as Hexen prepared to reflexively take the guard up on his offer, the thought of remaining by himself in the tent became unbearable.

"No, that's alright." He said. "Show him in."

The guard frowned slightly, but nodded and dipped his head out. A moment later, the Camp Master passed through the entrance flap, carrying What seem to be a pair of cups and a kettle in his hands.

"Lord Duron." He nodded in greeting, features slightly obscured by shadows from the flickering lantern light. "I thought we might share in a sort of...ritual of mine that I partake in moments like this."

"What sort of ritual?"

"Nothing too extreme, simply sharing in a cup of tea with an ally on the eve of battle. It's a special brew that's meant to calm the nerves and sharpen the mind."

That sounded eerily close to everything Hexen desired at the moment, but it wouldn't do to appear too eager to accept.

"Nerves? I wasn't aware the Forest Rangers could feel such anxieties, let alone their leader." He joked.

"In my experience, only the foolhardy or the dead feel no fear on the onset of such struggles."

And yet, those like Myron seemed to be as cool as ever, even in the most dire of circumstances as these. It always seemed like the Legendary Knights and Men at Arms that flew under Duron's banner never so much as flinched as such things. Were they foolhardy in their belief of invincibility? On the other hand, The Camp Master likewise had showed no concern either in his face or tone even once in this whole saga. Perhaps becoming a better actor was another facet of gaining experience as a warrior.

"In that case, I'd be honored to join you." He motioned to an empty patch of ground nearby. "So long as you're aware that Myron would likely make you drink down whatever poison you might have prepared for me should I not emerge from this alive."

"I suspect there wouldn't be enough hiding places in all of Lonham to protect me from his wrath if I did such a thing." Joakim chuckled with good humor as he sat and prepared the tea.

Hexen was struck with the dichotomy between the old Ranger and Myron in the moment. The two were similar enough in age that he suspected that they had likely come to blows directly more than once in the various clashes in the forest over the years, though Joakim's dark hair and beard were only slightly greying while that had become the dominant color for the Knight. Myron was a son of minor nobility and knew how to properly behave no matter what the environment, giving proper deference to his superiors in his courtesies. Joakim, on the other hand, was more the "free" spirit one one expect, making himself comfortable in the Lord's tent as he stretched out in a sitting position that would have taken the space of three men. Hexen wasn't so uptight as to see it as an insult, the wild man had actually been far more respectful than he would have expected, and he often found the way the other did such small things interesting. Even if Myron dismissed them as uncivilized. He wondered for a moment if, for all their differences, Myron seemed to tolerate Joakim because of how similar they actually were. He didn't like the Forest Dweller, that much was certain, but he didn't bellyache nearly as much about Joakim compared to the other Rangers. Perhaps there was even a sort of grudging respect between the old enemies that Hexen just couldn't understand.

"It's not quite piping hot fresh." Joakim said as he passed Hexen a cup. "But it should still be warm enough for enjoyment."

Hexen glanced down at the liquid for a moment, then took a testing gulp. He'd half expected the drink to taste like pine needles or other root growths, it was a pleasant surprise when the slightly sweet and sour of citrus played across his tongue. Already the tenseness in his shoulder began to ease slightly.

"That's quite effective." Hexen breathed out before taking another long sip. "I've never had tea quite like this."

"That's unsurprising, it's a recipe that's been added to over the years by the members of my camp." Joakim said as he poured himself a cup. "We can't brew it all that often as fruits can be a rarity in the forest. Perhaps that scarcity allows it to be even more effective in moments like this, like a potion to aid a mage in casting a rare spell."

"The closest thing to magic those like us can reach." For a moment, Hexen felt a hint of jealousy towards those like Kat and the Soldiers in Green. They could view the world and its potential in ways that he never would, with skills that they were completely reliant upon for their survival in this moment. The feeling faded a moment later with the bitter reminder in his thoughts that even those three could not do it alone, everyone would need to pull their own weight if they wished to see the next moon. A desperate coalition of Knights, Rangers, Mercenaries, and Militia. Alliances that would have seemed utterly absurd in more stable days, as even mercenaries hadn't been employed by House Duron in at least decades. There had never been a need to bolster their numbers with such a group. And that wasn't even touching the Forest Rangers. "...I know that Sir Myron and many of the others haven't been the most kind to your group. But for what it's worth, you have my thanks for being willing to work with us. I wouldn't have even thought it possible had you not sent Lady Kat'lana with the proposal."

"Given how it was made with the selfish desire of saving our skins, I don't think I can accept such gratitude."

"There are many who would be too prideful to make such a gesture." Hexen pointed out. "Preferring death before what they would see as degrading themselves. I don't believe my father would have ever accepted such a thing."

"Perhaps." Joakim conceded. "But Gallus Duron never faced this situation, never had to choose between his own sense of honor and the destruction of his lands. The ways we view ourselves and the world can often be warped in such moments."

"Or we grow stronger in those beliefs. The Empire has faced countless crises since its creation, and it hasn't been changed all that much by those who've led it."

"My knowledge of Imperial Politics is too limited to give you vigorous disagreement, but I can tell you that history itself provides different evidence. The Falmartan Empire is not the first mighty nation to rise upon these lands, and I highly doubt it will be the last. Change comes no matter what the attitude of those in power and the stubbornness they put up. Even your own ancestors were forced to step down as Kings to serve the Emperor."

"Yes, our bloodline was brought low by the bewitching elf that made us too weak to resist the Imperial Juggernaut." Hexen snorted at the reminder of the various legends. "I'm curious, have you heard those stories?"

"At least half a dozen variations of them." Joakim gave a half smile. "But if you're asking if I have some sort of hidden truth passed down to me, I'm afraid no such secret tomes or tales fell to me when I took the position. There's no hidden statue of either an elf or a demon that we worship as some founder or deity."

"Unfortunate, I was kind of hoping you all knew something I didn't." Hexen matched the other's expression. "My father always said that those stories were nothing more than the fanciful yarns of minstrels, but I have to admit, there's a small part of me that hopes there's some truth to them. Knowing that some great event in the past has led to this moment."

'It is a tempting fantasy, yes. But even if they are complete fabrications, I think it's more important that the tales exist at all."

"What do you mean?"

Joakim took a drink himself, clearly considering his words before answering.

"The stories of the Barbarian King and his wayward lover are more than just an explanation to why the Durons and the Rangers clash, they speak of a time before the establishments that dominate the world that we know today. There were not nearly so many villages, let alone any roads or paths to connect them all. The Empire was not nearly as powerful or all-encompassing in those days, allowing the Petty Monarchs such as the Durons free reign within their own domains." He explained. "A time that no longer exists."

"And you think these stories are some sentimental reminders of those days?" Hexen guessed.

"In a way, but they're not meant to be nostalgic. Rather, it acts almost as an explanation for what comes afterwards. The Durons were not known for their honor and nobility during their independent rule, and their armies were not headed up by Knights in polished armor. Those changes only came after the Empire came. After, as the stories claim, their rulership was weakened by the Barbarian King's concubine."

"Nonsense, we aren't using those tales as an excuse as to why we lost the war against Falmart. And almost none of the stories even make such a claim."

"Not outwardly, no." Joakim agreed. "But it becomes the first real 'defeat' of the Duron Bloodline, one that leads to its eventual surrender and assimilation into the Imperial Nobility. All because of the lust and depravity of the Barbarian King. A clear warning, wouldn't you say?"

"I…never really thought of it that way." Hexen frowned. He had been taught about his family's past while growing up, of course, but he was never given the impression that those who came before the Imperial Age were worth celebrating like others of his ancestors. They lacked both honor and the careful military considerations that they would later gain fame for, and had stood in the way of the Empire's progress. "We didn't need to use the stories to protect ourselves because in our minds today, we still came out on top. If anything, they're just used to cast the Rangers either as the heroes or the villains in the conflict, because they didn't change with the coming of the Empire like we did."

Joakim nodded approvingly.

"Of course, it's impossible to say how far back those stories go or what the initial intentions were behind its origins. But I believe your father dismissed them because he understood what was really being said behind it all, and that whether or not they were true didn't matter anymore. The times they speak of were very different from his own, just as the times we live in now are very different from what we knew just a few seasons ago. The past makes for interesting anecdotes, perhaps even some important lessons, but it cannot be the controlling force of the present."

Hexen stared down at the last few droplets of liquid in his cup for a moment, then scowled.

"Is this the part where you tell me that you actually had magic powers all this time? Like how to read minds?"

"I possess no such abilities, Lord Duron." The smile was now gone as the Camp Master shook his head. "Just a man who's had the dubious luck of surviving where many others have not. The least one could expect of me is to learn something along the way."

He wanted to stand up, to shout and argue some point that hadn't even been spoken aloud. It was a defensiveness that seemed to come from the very core in a primal way, but he didn't understand why. Nothing of what Joakim had said was particularly disagreeable, neither had the manner in which it had been spoken been offensive. Yet, it seemed to have cut him in a deep way. A deeply personal way.

The answer was cruelly simple, he was striking to the heart of Hexen's insecurities ever since taking over as Lord. Perhaps it was not the same as thinking about the bygone Barbarian King, but the considerations of those who had come before him had been a constant on his mind. It had been impossible to escape the long shadow cast by Gallus and Edmund, no matter where he went or what he did Hexen felt as if they were gazing at him from just over his shoulder and judging all of his mistakes. Compared to them, he felt like a pretender to the title, like he'd somehow stolen away what had rightfully belonged to someone else and was now putting on a mask to the rest of the world and pretending that he knew what he was doing while hoping no one would see through the "lies".

But it wasn't true. He wasn't a thief who had cheated his way to power, the title of Lord had fallen into his lap when he would have gladly given it up to have his family back. Everything that had led them to this point wasn't just the result of Hexen making guesses at every crossroads. He had managed to get them this far with the guidance from Myron, the aid of his people, and his own senses that had allowed him to see and exploit opportunities as they arose. Whatever his father or brother might have done, it was his actions that allowed there to be a chance to work with the Rangers in a way that so many would have been willing to condemn and tosses aside without even a thought as to what could be gained.

His actions were entirely his own now, and dwelling upon what might have been was little more helpful than childish fantasizing. Worse, it often led to Hexen second guessing himself as he wondered not what the best course of action was in any given moment, but what his predecessors would have done. It wasn't to Gallus or Edmund to whom everyone looked to for leadership in this time. It was Lord Hexen Duron.

He swallowed hard, realizing that part of him had been still hoping against hope that all of this was somehow a bad dream. That his family would be riding home any day now to comfort him and reassure that he was not actually the Lord and that everything was going to be okay again. But they wouldn't be, not until he let go of the past and started making things right for himself.

Joakim didn't say anything more, leaving the young Lord to dwell on his own thoughts as they finished their tea in silence. Yes, it was his own actions that had brought them this far.

Tomorrow, they would find out if those decisions led to their salvation, or annihilation.