"Mono/Dialogue"
'Inner thoughts'
Narration
[Message/communication apparatus]
Date: Winter 1919 NWC or 646 AU.
Location: Autarch Assembly Building, Graceveria Regalia, Continent of Regalia
POV: Cylene Renoir
Twirling a pen between my fingers, I merely observe as discussions unfold in front of me. The Autarchs had been going on and on for the st four hours or so about what’s next. National recovery has been going well, overfishing has been a steady issue, but feeding half a billion people can be exhausting like that, and there’s no shortage of new findings.
We had found out that intelligent life does exist in this world, and the problem of the nguage barrier is child’s py to solve. The power structure of this world was revealed piece by piece, and we might require further… adjustment.
Of course, we are not here discussing to be discussing those two.
“I choose to believe that we cannot accept any alien to step foot onto our nd. We are battered and barely up on our feet. It is not just a matter of national prestige but also safety and security.” A slick-haired and well-built Autrach argued. If I am not wrong, his region includes Nova Elesia, so his stance is not at all unfounded.
I refrain from remarking because I feel uncomfortable, and I don’t want to screw up too much too often. They immediately treated my words as the prime example of do what you were told and never think too hard about it. I could probably order them to build a space rocket to the moon (there are three circling the pnet), build me a castle there, and I want it yesterday. I have a good inkling that they will obey, no matter how insane that sounds to begin with.
These people are really treating me like a messiah or outright godlike being a few times… it has been instituted in our founding charter (written by me on a retively free day) that elders (what they call us pyers, after a few light probing) and humans are ultimately mortal… in a sense (yeah that was rather hypocritical how the world is turning out.)
That is, if that’s what they want me to believe. Dictators have a huge amount of power, but the more dangerous person is the one who could stand beside the throne and whisper to the king directly. It is not out of question that they are also just kissing my ass. Letting myself dictate too much will alienate me, but letting people whisper whatever is bad, too.
Good, I hated how I am in this kind of position again. I just want to waste away after that stupid war back in my world. Wasting away with just my fantasy, and never having to think too hard anymore.
“Your proposal would let us be vulnerable and suspicious. There’s no guarantee that our secrecy to remain hidden unperturbed. Those satellites above this pnet could be active or otherwise, and nothing would change. We must act.” An older male Autarch interjected while I agonized about my predicament.
“If they are truly active, we would be visited by the locals at this point. From what little I had been allowed to peruse from the Prime Director’s report, this world has lopsided technology. Existence of metaphysical energy has been scrutinized and confirmed.”
“Careful now, it would be unseemly for those of our caliber to stoop upon such forbidden territory. We are not merely contending with potential economic shift but also societal and ideological ones.”
“Yet, can you be certain that our method wasn’t one of many reasons for our survival? We had prepared for dimensional incursions, stockpiling, and producing weapons while common Ornean bleed for vain glories.”
I had been watching them going at it for close to thirty minutes by now. Frankly… I found their words enlightening. It also serves as a kind of test for my budding political acumen, whether I can sniff out potential problems or signs of rebellion. A good soldier won’t necessarily make a good ruler, and right now, I am still looking for a reference on what a good ruler should look like.
There are about 40 Autarchs in this building; it wasn’t jam-packed like that time during the emergency when civilian and military bodies convened. In hindsight, that was an extremely dangerous move to have many high-ranking personages stay in one pce, but I suppose extraordinary measure is needed when tackling an extraordinary matter.
My bodyguards are encircling the venue around the edges. Meredith is beside me, pouring and changing my tea whenever it gets cold. You can get away with a lot of outndish things when you have power. It is a humbling experience to see how power can easily corrupt someone’s mind. It left me unable to completely despise many horrible leaders of my own world; I am one of them now.
There will be many more who will die under my command. Even the process of cleaning out pockets of resistance often results in casualties. It would be extremely fortunate if the soldier died immediately… what will happen if they’re crippled for life? Worse, what should I do when their mind deteriorate to the point of being a hazard?
Problems keep piling up, and I only have 24 hours a day to fix some of them. I hate it here… but I cannot stop. Call me sentimental or whatever… but this game; this addiction, is my medication. Years passed where I contempted suicide, but that game and this nation anchored me still… hah…
Life would have been so much better if my problem could have magically disappeared.
“… If we wish to make friends, some genuineness and understanding could go a long way…” His eyes flicked my way. I can also feel the stares of others, wondering about my reaction. Coincidentally, I am back from my self-loathing journey to my headache-inducing one.
He seems really intent on watching my expression… Maybe. Nope, not gonna give out anything. I am just a wall, pretend I don’t exist.
Seemingly assured that he didn’t offend me, the old man continues.
“We had squandered our chance to gain allies. We kept to ourselves and, frankly speaking, monopolized the dangerous areas for ourselves.” Low murmurs follow as he made such an audacious remark… I don’t mind, but I do need to keep my persona intact.
“Expin.” Voice low, pitch low, and my eyes stay closed. The pen gently y onto the table as legs went from straight to crossed, fingers stapled above my knees. Even that earned reactions from them, sweat pooled, and perhaps trembling. I really don’t know if that’s genuine or if these people are A-grade actors.
“Your Grace… Regalia had stared the abyss once; let it not happen again alone. I concur with your… distaste on wider politics, but I beseech you to concede Autarch Neumann’s project.” I can see Neumann stiffen briefly for having been thrown onto the ring. Yeah, buddy, I know that feeling.
He is the newest Autarch that I have appointed. I use him to gauge how the others would feel. From what my Grasdivis and Spesdecs reports, they don’t mind… Goddamn it, am I really this paranoid to suspect even my own spies?
“Regale me a method or two, gift of autonomy is understandable, but I require proof and a concrete idea ahead of the verdict.”
“Of course, Your Grace. The lives of Regalian are undoubtedly precious; however, keeping the Autarchy hidden away without a sliver of footing on the New World could invite… unwanted variable.”
“… Potential of unwarranted competition, worse still should the competition be competent.”
“Indeed. It will be a shame to squander our resources to stake upon some faraway territory… so I propose the creation of a separate entity that could, in theory, act as an extension of Regalia but with its own rights.” Bold. I put on a thin, hopefully sardonic, smile as I stare him down.
“Had you insinuated the creation of a Non-Governmental Organization, but with rights that make them a nation in practice?” The man began sweating like hell… good one… urgh…
“Should I take it that you wish to suppnt our doctrine?”
“N-No, Your Grace, I merely suggest a potential rework on your fwless-”
“Cease your useless drivel and be forthcoming. My patience wears thin.”
“… Y-Yes, Your Grace.” He heaves a deep breath before speaking again. “Our isotionist doctrine will put us behind many potential adversaries, and it is my duty as an Autarch to prepare for such a possibility. Rather than completely hiding in our continent, we should spread our wings without truly putting our name on the line.”
“That means presenting a weaker version of ourselves; misleading and never a match…” I lean back on my high-backed chair, eyes never leaving him. With how much he seems to fear me, I guess, at this rate, I should commission a throne, but that’s expensive and useless, so I won’t.
“Else you wish to add?”
“That weakness shall be our shield and sword, and a dagger in the dark even.” He began standing up and nodded at his assistant as she presented a presentation using a projector. We turn our eyes towards the presented material.
“First real benefit is the veil of secrecy. Amassing power under E.I.R.I.’s jurisdiction will allow us to further cndestine operations. We can cim an alibi and give our potential adversaries pieces of false information.” The slide change, showing a pair of caricatures where one holds a sword and another holds the shield while sharing grip on one banner.
“E.I.R.I.’s method of warfare and influence expansion should give us an edge if the prediction of technological and societal levels were proven. I proposed this hypothesis based on svery’s existence. It conforms to a much lower societal aspect simply because sves are actually a net loss.”
“Net Loss you wish to utilize?”
“Quite, but I daresay we Autarchs as a whole could benefit from outsourcing our wars. As you might have understood, we have many problematic foreigners currently under reeducation. We should make use of them.”
Silence reigns. That was a stupidly audacious pn… but yeah… I see his logic. Those soldiers we capture are under… retraining. I can certainly use them to be our foot soldiers. It will be beneficial for nobody I will care about to die… of course, I intend to not just whip them. There must be a carrot involved.
“Are you certain? That was an audacious move to use mere prisoners… unless?”
“Indeed. I propose the reformation of the Foreign Legion, not just prisoners, but many more who will flock under our banner to gamble for a better livelihood. We have much to offer, and a simple product from our side of the continent could potentially compete well with the World’s best.”
“… and if they prove to be a liability?”
“There are many ways to tie a man, Your Grace. The bottom line is that we must not turn them into someone who has nothing to lose. We know how our ferocity is motivated by the sheer humiliation we would be forced to under should we lose the war.” He deliberately left out the second option of a complete nuclear catastrophe.
I won’t be able to destroy all factions; there are too many of them, and my nuclear arsenal can truly (or worse only) work as a preemptive strike. If I dawdle on it too long, Regalia would be bathed in nuclear fme.
“Hmm… simir to the Frostnd Patriots…” My skepticism aside, I can actually feel the sheer hostility given his way and Neumann’s. If I were not present, there would have been a fistfight or two. They did not act upon it, either out of deference I can scarcely trust, or because they cannot look bad to rival factions.
Oh right… factions.
Once we established a core and foundation in this new world, Expansionists and Rebuilders shattered into many camps. I scarcely believe what had happened then, as told by my spies, but there is a faction that began espousing racial superiority because of the war. A faction that wishes to build a utopia only for us. A faction that wishes to spread our brand of government as the correct one. A faction that supports isotionism. So much more…
The ego of surviving such a Great War appears to infect many of them.
This is giving me a headache. I can process documents faster than humanly possible, I can shoot without missing a hundred times in a row, and I have enough political value that I can just be a dumb idiot that is easily used anyway… but I cannot banish the lingering feeling.
My assembly goes dead quiet, waiting for a verdict or condemnation. I certainly know why dictators become paranoid; you can’t really trust those beneath you. The only real force you have is fist… that makes me wonder… What do my people think of me?
That stunt I pulled off, mass execution, had condemned me as a monster. I need to be feared so as not to appear weak, as a dictator should, but… was that the right way? If I were a better woman, I couldn’t find a way out. If I were someone with a gentler heart, I could perhaps turn a blind eye to the many practical benefits. If I did not inhabit Cylene…. No. Stop. It won’t do me any good.
The colder part of my mind, ones with logic, deem that yes… that’s the correct move. The ringleaders won’t receive clemency, but those below must be spared. It’s a shame that I don’t have na?ve idealism, at least I can fool myself that way.
Just waiting for the chopping block, should they think enough is enough… Regardless…
“… I’ll have your suggestion under consideration.” One heaves a sigh of relief as he settles back on his chair. Again, he might be doing some real, wonderful acting. I am unsure whether I had fallen for their suggestion or not, but credit where it is due, and back to the core discussion, that Nova Elesian’s Autarch has a point.
I have nothing against people that aren’t under my rule, hell, I can even cim that I admire their tenacity, but that conversely means I couldn’t give a single ratass if they are being genocided either. So many people are saying that we must try and help those in need, and while good on paper… what’s the point of helping others if we are still drowning too?
If people want to help, sure, go ahead, be a good person like we have to be, but reality isn’t so simple. This is no paradise where every bit of our needs can be served on a silver ptter.
I sincerely missed how the gamepy usually revolves around meta and how to manipute digital resources. Here though? I am in charge of deciding whether or not these 500 million will one day be knocking on my door or not.
Otto keeps telling me that my people won’t betray me, but I doubt it. I can act confidently because I follow the script id out for the dictator, a simple script. Otto and Rossa are the two people I deem trustworthy, because one had been implying that he knows what I am, ultimately. While the tter… well, it's complicated if my suspicion is true.
Must have been pathetic, huh? Yet, what choice do I have? I can count on my blessing that neither had moved against me.
Especially Rossa. She had reported to me that some… interesting people (simir stripe of suspicion) are trying to embed themselves with my structure. The fact that Rossa isn’t in a killing mood proves she has other pns. Whether I am included there is not something I know.
No idea how deep the programming that got transted into reality will be worth. There are too many variables, and at times, I am not even sure that this brain of mine is safe from probing.
Am I a heartless woman, but also a coward deep down? Maybe and leaning to yes… but I am just too tired to care about what is happening over yonder when I am not even sure if this country can recover within a decade. I’d been here once, never wanting to relive it, but here I am.
“While your hesitance and concerns are logical, we cannot keep the country closed indefinitely. Sooner or ter, someone will stumble their way; we know better than to rely on smoke and screen.” That previous female Autarch interjected again, her argument earning some nodding or disdainful gres and scoffs, reluctant or genuine, I don’t know.
Her concern is a good one, too, but weaker in a practical sense. We can hunker down, and we do have nuclear weapons. Hypothetically, we are fine, but what will happen if we just eat glue in the corner while having no friends? Our passivity could spell a grievous mistake.
It is not an outside possibility that there might be an entity that can ugh off 15 megatons of TNT to the face. Worse, there might be a technologically superior nation, and we will all be helpless to be swept aside. By then, I can only hope that my people will be spared from unnecessary cruelty… what about me? Well, judging by what I see how this world operates, my fate would not be pretty if I don’t die fast enough.
I don’t want to imagine what needs to be done besides Project Avalon; a st-ditch middle finger.
It sucks to be a leader at times. I need to hear counsel, but I also need to know when to stand on my belief. The situation only gets harder once Smartypants begins running through logical ideas. I am not gonna try acting like I know best, and I will lie that I don’t want my opinion to be proven wrong, but still… If they are right, then they’re vindicated, but also mean we are screwed beyond measure.
“That is neither here nor there; my motion stands: no alien. No New Worlders should step inside our devastated nd. We are not even sure if our presence or theirs could affect each other.”
“I concur. We are in no position to show how much we were diminished by the war. I propose a strict measure to be taken, ensuring that no New Worlders could discover our nd, one we fought so hard to protect.” A different Autarch chimed in, a man who is almost as old as Harrison. He gave me a bow, for whatever reason.
“Your Grace, your compassion and sagacity have been a great boon to our nation. Only you could have united this once forgotten and hellish nd to be worthy of your order and leadership. However, I implore, beseech you that we must never allow those aliens a chance to discover our nd with impunity.” He is very frank… I kind of endorsed it.
“Matters of national security and public safety are naturally within consideration, your aim to be exact?” It’s certainly a strange way of putting it.
“Inward development that might have eluded our gaze.” Heh… I can hear a few bristle at this man's poorly hidden attempt to steer the conversation elsewhere. Might be topical still, but that was certainly rude from their point of view. Me thinks, though? That was fine.
“… What was this matter that eluded us, then?”
“We are focusing on aliens that can be seen and visible, it is not out of question that something is also lurking underneath. There have been reports of wildlife and creatures springing up in our backyard. I hope to illuminate that fact.” He takes charge of the projector and showcases discoveries and rediscoveries.
Old flora and fauna thought to be extinct (or changed rather, which I scarcely remembered from patch notes by the devs) had been steadily returning. Trees that had been absent for years in-game had been found yet again; the speed at which they grow was concerning before it slows down.
“As Your Grace and fellow Honorable Autarchs witnessed, we had a cause for concern: a possibility that something or someone was encouraging and supporting the growth of these extinct species.” He turns back to me, and I see a flicker of… nostalgia? I don’t know? What is wrong with me?
“We might need to tighten the parameter, the aliens didn’t require a method to arrive… they’re already here.”
Date: Winter 1919 NWC or 646 AU
Location: Eurekan Archipego, Regalian Western Colonial Zone.
POV: Narrator.
Winter is still in full swing, but for some people, the only thing cold is the weather with minimal snow. This bizarre New World is something they need to get used to. Especially for those with nothing left to lose, and much to gain. As colonization spread like tendrils from the devastated continent, so did the life-pumping blood of industry.
Heavy duty vehicles with military personnel providing security nearby could be seen hard at work. Earthen foundations were dug, camps and temporary housing were erected, and flocks of colonists had been steadily settling in the nd. With the government’s coverage and support, these colonists are the most desperate section that was left with even less than the poorest of them all. It is not an easy task to erect a safe zone in former battlefields, made deadlier with sporadic and clustered pockets of UXO marring their homes.
This offer to settle on the new nd is seen as a fresh second wind for those who lost much from that inane war that might have been caused by nothing but spite or something darker. There are many benefits to enlisting in the program, namely, nd ownership of the new world colonial ground would have its tax waived for a decade.
In exchange, the colonists are directed to start pnting food sources to further alleviate the crisis at home. To further entice interest, there would also be a guarantee provided to a private group or corporation that manages to successfully cultivate and grow nd.
Guarantees include the rights to employ and train a security unit, a chance to forward their case to the Grand Autarch herself for support, and priority for governmental programs. With these many benefits, there have also been whispers of conspiracies and a cruel truth beneath the surface.
Purges and hunts for traitors have been rampant, and for those too na?ve to realize the threads woven in the dark, well… one voice snuffed where no scream could be heard. Then another. And another… and another.
That being said, the general popuce would naturally steer clear of something that is honestly not their problem unless prompted to. They have homes to rebuild and family to care for; thinking about such a dangerous topic would not feed the starving mouths and improve their well-being.
Back to the colonial program, to ensure that the colonists are well protected, rigorous patrols and allotment of state-funded (or confiscated from NIIO’s armory) equipment for colonists were approved by the Council of Autarchs, a colloquial term. The nature of their homend would mean that the mandatory 2 years of training in-between 16 years of studies shall come in handy.
Colonists are armed with old but reliable rifles and shotguns for the most part. Another example of Regalian’s commitment could be seen in supply and logistics. Such as the consideration about how household of 4 that enlisted in the colonial program was given 20% more ammunition per member’s allotment and rights to purchase surplus hardware up until a certain point.
That brought where we are right now, a group of 2 young men, 1 woman, and an old man had just returned from a forested zone, the sanctioned part for hunting that is. The world of green slowly recedes, with the hunters each carrying 2 or 3 rabbits of quite a rge proportion; their horns are quite the novelty but somewhat useless. The old man carries birds and avian creatures on a stick.
“Mon, you sure love running through the woods, huh?” One of the young ’uns asked his neighbor, his hands were clutching his rifle carefully but tightly. His eyes scanned through the cracks beneath the foliage, and he minded his footing.
“Couse’ am, and prefer shooting to farming and gossiping to be honest.” She fiddled with her hunting rifle, the one that was supposed to be her father’s, but he allowed her to bring it along. Their newly built ranch and farmnd are amply protected by both the occupant and where it is located.
“Didn’t see that comin’, me thought girlie wanna join the other girls in the market.” The older man of the group said with a chuckle, his voice soft, but sternness still bled through each sylble. At first, he led at the front to path find, and because he is armed with an old but reliable shotgun, he now takes the rear position.
“Nah, too noisy and I ain’t kind enough to prattle for nosy nobodies.” She said while ducking through an opening in the tree, the sheer scale of it often left her in awe. Her friends said that she is weird to find this dark and grim forest to be exciting.
“Well, that expins why you fit mighty fine with us.” The other young man said he was armed with a revolver and was surprisingly wearing a uniform. Despite being the youngest, his gait shows traces of military training.
“Hey, Sieg?”
“What?”
“When are you going to college?”
“I don’t know, probably won’t.”
“Why not? You finished the mandatory 2 years after middle school, and I heard that you kept compining in high school.”
“That’s the thing, except for my uncle, none in the family is a career soldier. Dad is a Doctor, Mom is a Teacher, big bros are working in some stupid corporations, and stly, my sis nded a schorship in Casherlish Imperial University, and while pompously prestigious, would probably end up going to be some no-name researcher.”
“Why would that be a problem?”
“I’m an Icefnders, I didn’t even get the chance to cross bde. My pals all have scars. What do I have? Some old bruise from a goddamn book falling on my head in the library.” The Old Man scrunched his brows. He was about to admonish the d, but he broke into a run.
“Sorry, gotta go! I forgot to meet up with my folks!”
“Sieg, wait!”
“Leave it, Monique.”
“But, Uncle Barcas-”
“Icefnders are always like that, brave and always striving to better themselves. Sounds alien to us Northerners, but that’s how it is. Their culture made them proud of staring hell in the eyes and nothing else, since being so close to that bsted Icefield made their perception warping considerably with a survival mindset as a core tenet.” He sighed wearily, reminded of many lost comrades and foolishly brave friends losing their lives down south. Those who had been to war could rarely leave it, and being down south gave them an excuse to keep that nonsensical thrill.
“Appears that Siegfried got mixed up with the Pureblood despite his parents’ best efforts.”
“Are they really that bad?”
“You’re from the further North or Nova Elesia, yeah? So, I’ll remind that over and over again, Damian. Icefnders' rumors of being… cold-blooded… were not an exaggeration. It is also important to remember that Ex-Field Marshal Olga Caligo is still a member of the Caligo household. She was a hero for them, you see, but after that open admittance of incompetence, she is despised.” Barcas scanned his surroundings and let down his gun once he realized it was just those oversized squirrels again.
“Not all of them, though, the Pureblood in particur still revered her second only to Her Grace herself. Ironic that these so-called Purebloods are bound only in name. After the creed, only renowned families still maintained the highest density of being Pure-blooded. Autarch Neumann’s House is one of the Avergoths’ Pureblood.”
“What do these Icefnders want then?”
“Well… pretty sure they wish to be the Autarchy’s fg bearer and vanguard to chart the new world. Men will search for adventure no matter how stupid and insane, and I was there once. I had enough adventure that I hope my death will be boring.”
“Speaking of New World… what do you think is happening in Tenebrae right now?”
“Heh, the active personnel are probably having the moment of their lives… bringing sanity to a chaotic shift in the ecosystem.”
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Location: Somewhere in Convallis Tenebrae.
“Watcher Alpha 2-3, this is Watcher Alpha 2-2, how is it going on your end?” Said a soldier in his vehicle. He is not alone; a gunner is seated on the turret machine, and 2 others are inside doing pretty much nothing other than keeping their wits about them.
[Watcher Alpha 2-3 here, the temporary bridge was just about to finish. It should be good for the herd to pass through. How is it going on your side?]
“The usual, Regalian Alpacas should be there in a moment. Careful not to spook them, they appear to be quite jumpy after those idiots from 2-4 mistakenly fshed their fshlights.”
[Yeah, our boys by the rivers had been doing their best to get the Barracuda out of the way… the Wescarian Piranha is a bit harder though.]
“Copy that, good luck on your task, mate.”
[Wilco, you too, Vijanta.]
“Now we watch…”
They watch over the migrating Tenebrian Alpaca, whose thick, mantle-like fur has been shed to show their outstandingly small body. Climate change forced this local source of wool to migrate even further south. Those who could not make the journey could be seen colpsing, their body ill-suited for anything above 12 Celsius (53.6 Fahrenheit). Of course, the soldiers pity these creatures, but the humans are having a hard time of their own.
“It has never been this quiet… Making it easier to believe that the majority of the Old World lived like this every day… We got trash luck, huh?” The driver bemoaned Regalian’s average luck, something that wouldn’t cross his mind back then.
“Our bizarre genetics allowed us to thrive in a harsh climate; unfortunately, that did little to lessen the amount of problems when the weather is not suggesting the usually high chance of death.” One of his friends answered, he is cleaning his standard issue M11A5. The man has a noticeable scar, unlike the other 3, and is completely unbothered otherwise.
“They could weather the storm and blizzard, but the idea of heat strokes and the sun gring down on their drenched body is another thing entirely.” A bespectacled dy said while flipping through a magazine to feast her eyes. Yes, it is mostly filled with female models, but she often caught glimpses of handsome devils.
“You still reading that?”
“If there is anything NIIO has better than us would be these things. Our entertainment industry is still dead in the water, remember?”
“Won’t you get into trouble for reading that?”
“Unless you guys snitched on me, I won’t… probably…”
“Of course we won’t… because if we did something bad or not according to Her Grace’s approval, we would be gone before leaving the barracks.” The soldiers ughed and chuckled morbidly. They had been conditioned to see executions and purges live on broadcast, heard or seen, all was done by the Regalian Military Police. With this extraordinary situation at hand, they had been allowed to unwind a little; their respective CO definitely turned a blind eye for the most part.
The gunner chose to change the topic before they got into the actual problem.
“Heatstroke sucks, my sister was a victim…”
“Why don’t you ask for leave?”
“Nah, I got words from pops that she is alright. Besides… that’s going to prolong my tour…”
“Hospitals are going all around the clock trying to save people, and the progress has been rather smooth… if we ignore numerous problems that came with ice thawing.” The gunner noted rather bitterly, this prompted the female soldier to raise her face from the magazine.
“… Biological weapons, viruses, and bacteria, for the most part, which have been frozen, would most likely be activated again. Forcing the government to pour more and more manpower to contain it else a pgue would spread. Right?”
“Yeah, which also means that our discharge would be pushed back… again…” Everyone shared a groan. It would be one thing if they had enemies knocking on their doorstep, and it is another if their primary concern is family back home. Cylene had admitted the state of their homend, and the Grand Autarch put great emphasis on rebuilding.
“Hey, Xue, do you have any news from our friends in the medical group?” She was visibly troubled by that question, but since they have little to worry about right now, she could answer basic information.
“…Casualties have been recorded, but with an abundance of medical experts and experienced staff, the progress to combat them has been an uphill but steady measure.” She closed the magazine only for her buddy to take it for himself.
“It certainly helps that NIIO’s brought with them an antidote to combat their own weapon when mistakes are aplenty. Or so I thought anyway, I’m not part of the medical corps…” She said nothing else, since the next word that left her mouth could be her undoing.
Xue understands that a crisis of this magnitude would have caused a total societal colpse for any other group, and Regalian would certainly follow if the Grand Autarch had acted more slowly. They had been mentally and physically conditioned for fighting interdimensional creatures, and god knows what disease they brought along with them, so survival becomes a priority.
Even at their worst, not once did they entertain the idea to try and fight alone; that is such a horrendously conceited attitude. Regalian Autarchy is a nation riddled with holes and numerous problems in need of remedy. Rebels or Loyalists held one true teaching the Grand Autarch gave to them: Bend if you must, but never break.
[Any Watcher Alpha on station? This is Watcher Alpha 2-1.] The Driver fumbled a little from the sudden announcement.
“T-This is Watcher Alpha 2-2, we read you, over.”
[We need help on the northern quadrant. Gryphon with silver wings was spotted near one of the caverns. We don’t know how it slipped past our line. Break, prepare for potential engagement and all kinds of shitshow.]
“Understood, 2-2 on the way.”
“For the love of Her Grace’s Eternal Beauty, again?! How many times are we going to be deployed on herding those bsted alpacas?!” One of the soldiers shouted angrily after being, once again, ordered by an equally exhaustive problem to keep an eye on the ongoing migration.
“Keep it down, Reedy, chill…”
“How am I supposed to keep it down?! That was the fourth time this week! We even got Focher injured because of that por bear, and I swear I’ll hunt it down when I get discharged for real!”
“X-Xue! Turn off the transponder!”
“On it!”
“What’s next, are we going to be sent patrolling with four fricking fuck all dudes in the middle of fuck all nowhere because the rest are busy jerking off in the hospital?! Oh, how about doing an investigation with half of our squad riddled with bruises if not actual injuries instead?!”
“Umm…”
“Dammit all!”
“That’s enough. Driver, full speed bearing one-six-one, lock and load fels.” The leader of W.Alpha 2-2 sighs as he inspects his rifle. While wmakers and leaders argue about the broad strokes and outlines, these folks on the ground will be the ones to realize them. How much they will pay is yet to be seen…
[END OF CHAPTER]
Author’s Note:
Yo there, this is me, myself, and I, the author who is very busy irl.
Sorry for the very te update. I really have no idea what else is there to say, but that’s all.
Anyway, here we see the situation at home being… ambiguous. Yeah. That’s also one of many reasons why I proceed with the upcoming counteroffensive slowly. So many boring parts that were left unmentioned or hand-waved as quickly as possible, or worse, as nothing, often irk me. So I want to flesh it out a little bit more of those being often left unmentioned, unnoticed, and unremembered.
Update as uh… let’s be real, I don’t know really, LMAO.
Ciao
