06:00 HOURS.
TUESDAY, 30 AUTUMNSUS 1441.
MILITARY ACADEMY, GLACIES, YONDEL.
THIS WAS THE HOME OF A HERO.
Senator Orpheus slowly approached the single door in the west wing of the Royal Army’s military academy. The newly commissioned Acolyte that stood security watch pressed his right hand over his right breast and saluted before opening the door in a single motion.
Speaking softly, the young man turned his head as he looked at the small interior of the bedroom was held before him, “Senator, Mr. Reinhart is waiting inside.”
“Thank you,” Orpheus patted his shoulder as he proceeded inside hearing the door shut behind him.
Passing through the dark hallway that led into the bedroom, Senator Orpheus raised his right hand and snapped his fingers sending a wave of pure mana to the lights that were in the room. As he walked into the space, an eastern man slowly walked around the corner. He looked no older than sixty years old as threw his body against the wall next to him using it and a wooden cane to hold himself steady.
“Not bad,” the old man coughed into a handkerchief that was coated in blood. “It’s been too long—for an entrance like that—I thought you weren’t going to stop by.”
“You taught me everything. Alvin Yor—Reinhart.” Orpheus said as he slowly sat on the only chair that was in the room.
Reinhart struggled to breathe as he reached for the pendant that was strung around his neck, “Yeah… What happened when we were brought here cannot be forgiven.”
“You were all the best. And still, it wasn’t enough to prevent the overthrow of the previous king,” Orpheus clenched his hands. He was a product of the revolution. He let out a heavy breath as he stood from the chair, staring at a photo on the nearby coffee table. His eyes scanned over the three: A woman and two young men of eastern descent. They wore clothes he didn’t recognize, and they had bright smiles on their faces as they stood in a place not of this world. “You took them all. We never left you. We survived and lived in the shadow of what was meant to be the most prosperous kingdom this world has ever seen.”
“He left us—and what did we learn from that?” The old man slowly lowered himself on the ground as he removed a small dagger from his vest. He placed the blade against his neck as a surge of pure light encapsulated the weapon.
“Learn?” Orpheus didn’t understand what he meant.
“Children were never made for this world.”
Dragging the blade across his jugular bright pink and deep red blood splattered over his chest and spurted out from the wound killing him instantly. Gravity held Reinhart as his body slowly slumped to the ground. His suffering, the pain he lived through every single day of his life had been ended in one movement.
An uneasy breath left Orpheus as he approached the body. Running his hand over the man’s face, he closed his eyes and slowly adjusted himself to pick up the corpse. Grasping the body firmly over his chest, his clothes were soiled by the blood as he carried the hero to his bed one final time. Gently placing him on the sheets and draping a blanket over the corpse, Orpheus slowly turned around and grabbed the photo. This object was not of this world, and its production was simply impossible in this nation. Drifting a hand over the glass that protected the image, the senator solemnly smiled as he placed the memoir clutched gently below the unmoving hands…
…Another hero had fallen.
06:10 HOURS.
TUESDAY, 30 AUTUMNSUS 1441.
BISHMARK OUTSKIRTS, YONDEL.
TODAY WAS SUPPOSED TO BE A BETTER DAY. The aftermath had longed passed and the horror had ended. Still, even sitting in a bed seemed suffocating and stressful. Thank you, Lord. Keeping his eyes shut, all he could be thankful for was that he was alone in a small inn. Laying on top, a thick comforter kept him in place. Bright rays of sunlight cut through the window next to him, and he used his right hand to block the light as set down the cup of wine that was left for him. He had felt sick earlier in the morning, and his captain was kind enough to leave him alone in the early morning, and dragged the other members of the squadron on a patrol before they made a report to the local garrison commander. And now, he felt that he had recovered enough from the headache and fatigue he had. Removing his hand and placing it into the firm mattress, Mike rose from the safe grasp of the bed as he swung his legs over the side and stretched his arms left-to-right. Eventually finding himself standing in the silent room, he wandered to a small mirror hanging off the wall. With his fingers he felt the uneven and coarse surface of his neck and face. What he felt would not go unnoticed even to inattentive eyes. Reaching to his side, the sergeant took out a single folded blade and with a swift snap of his wrist, he began to cut away at the growth on his face. Soon enough he found himself putting on fresh clothes he had stowed away in his pack. Five minutes was all it took for Mike to be fully dressed, equipped with his gear, and out the door. The time he spent in preparation disappeared from his memory like the other thousands of times he had done it in his career.
There was something that bothered him, and perhaps that’s why he was moving cautiously down the street. Ariel, a child, was sent to monitor the princess in Bishmark. However, she was more than happy to accommodate Mike and his fellow Rangers with the necessary supplies and rooms for the evening, all on the government’s dime. As an American soldier, Mike knew that getting tangled up in foreign affairs was dangerous. It wasn’t as if he had the army to bail him or the others out. Not even the CIA existed in this world. The boogeymen of Earth were more than capable of getting an average GI out of trouble. He was forced to cooperate with the kingdom, not that it was all bad. The princess was more than willing to provide resources and inside information into the world, it’s just that this incident followed by Ariel’s arrival seemed to coagulate circumstantial evidence towards a larger plot. With this attack the relationship between the Holy Knights and the kingdom would change. There was no other choice. Partaking in the defense of Bishmark, although small, had put the Rangers on the map for all to see. Though any information may have been redacted, the king now had the ability to send them out on missions beyond the borders of the capital. That was his goal the entire time, wasn’t it? Mike bit the inside of his mouth. King Aldrich was aiming to gain complete control. First was denying the ability to share intelligence, then getting the Holy Knights involved with a conflict, finally, creating a situation where retaliation was a must. There was no way that the princess or Captain Oliver could negotiate a deal. What happened to the Crown Jewel would be an instigator for war, and the king had supreme authority over all military forces. By technicality, at least from what Mike researched, the Holy Knights fell under the Royal Guard, however it wouldn’t take much for the Royal Court to make a clause to change the organization. Mike needed to take notes, to gain as much information as he could. That’s all he could do for those in his unit.
Hunger had called upon the sergeant. Without thinking he had entered a small café still open. The owner of the shop eyed him carefully as he stepped up to the counter. Who could blame her? He had strutted in wearing military gear, and all of it was concealed beneath the large brown cloak he had on. It was as if he was looking for trouble with the way he dressed. Mike had no intention of antagonizing any of the locals. If he could slip pass everyone until he reached the Garrison Headquarters, then he would thank God for his stroke of luck. In silence did he picked a small custard for breakfast. He paid the necessary coin needed for the purchase, and a part of him still missed the convenience of just tapping a register with his watch to make a payment transfer. Taking a deep bite into his breakfast, Mike enjoyed the sweet flavor of the bread and custard as he navigated his way through this new city. Slowly the surrounding area came to life as children roamed the streets, and men walked along side each other towards their daily jobs. It was almost as if what had happened the night before never happened.
Something like this was always a wonder to witness as the people held the morale rather than the troops alone.
“Mike!” Over his shoulder, his brown eyes caught a glimpse of silver. He turned his body fully as a woman standing just a half-head shorter than him gazed upon him with a bright smile. Princess Lecca-Maradel had ambushed him on the side of the street, and in an instant Mike noticed that she was wearing a light peach dress covered by a dark brown and red cloak. Her hair was tucked away in a messy bun, and several strands of silver hair fell over her right eye which she brushed away. The most recent memory Mike had of the princess was not appealing. That night they were all covered in mud and blood and the stench of iron coated his nostrils, distracting him. However, in such a simple place, she looked breathtaking.
I wonder what Emma would think. He shook his head. Now wasn’t the time to get distracted.
“Sergeant, I thought you were to rest in the inn today?” She leaned forwards in a cheerful manner. It was a far cry from her meekness the previous night. It was a wonder how she could recover so swiftly from what had happened. Even though he himself was mobile with a clear head, Mike only wondered if she was hiding her exhaustion below her shining eyes.
“Well, being locked up doesn’t suit me,” He chose his words with care, and that was enough to elicit a cute chuckle from the princess. “Where are you headed? Mind if I tag along?” he asked cautiously. He didn’t want to intrude in her matters unless invited. Her nation had been attacked, and he could’ve guessed she was heading to another meeting were it not for the way she casually dressed for the day. It was hard to presume what she was going to do, along with what she had already done earlier in the morning. But, if he had to guess, it was performing her duty as the princess and paying those affected by the attack with an unofficial visit.
“Say, why don’t we stop by the nearest tailor,” she suggested. “I need to pick up the uniform that Ariel brought for me.”
“I can do that,” Mike’s voice had lowered an octave. “But why would you need a uniform? Are we finally meeting with the Garrison Commander in an official manner?”
“Unfortunately, not. Come along now.” Turning in unison, Mike and Lecca walked side-by-side down the occupied, and healing streets of Bishmark.
In the moving silence, Lecca pivoted her eyes towards the man next to her. Mike was just tall enough to force her to lift her head slightly. He wasn’t big by any means, but she felt safe in his presence—no, she felt safe in the custody of the Rangers. It was ironic in a way. The Holy Knights were acting more as protectors rather than soldiers under her command. In fact, ever since she was placed in charge, it was Captain Oliver that had been making the orders. She had been simply present as a liaison, something that she had done for her entire life. Mike was a person she could both work with on missions, and he was someone she could easily connect to even with their differences in culture. He had acted as the bridge keeping the two sides together, but now the princess saw him being like that of an anchor; he was a man that remained fortified through the toughest of conditions, yet he was stable to hold someone in place with a firm grasp. And, like all anchors, Mike had weathered more than enough storms. She found herself glancing at the scar that traced down his neck and towards his collar bone. How many stories have you hidden below your chest? She wanted to hear them all.
“May I say something?” Her words suddenly escaped her chest. A warm feeling rose through her face. Mike nodded his head in silence upon noticing the flustered state of the princess. She composed herself before continuing. “I haven’t mustered the proper courage, but I know you are the first person that I should be telling this: I want to apologize for my nation’s misgivings. It should be a crime to rip those from another world into our own, and to have you all fight a war, not on behalf of the people, but to the king and his followers… I must apologize for what has happened.”
Where’s this coming from? Mike pondered as he slowed his pace. He couldn’t remember when Lecca began to act more open to him. The few interactions they had all blended in his mind, but he was able to catch on to a few subtle changes in her mannerisms and how she presented herself. At times she seemed resigned for reasons he was not aware of, so this sudden apology seemed to be something she jumped on for no logical reason. Naturally, he suspected that there was something hidden deeper behind her words, but this was not a proper moment to dig. And it wasn’t his place to judge internal affairs. So, he just let it go. “We all have our problems with the kingdom. Lecca, we were brought here to complete a mission, and we’ll do just that. No substitutes can do what we do for a living.”
Just stopping next to where the tailor shop was located, the princess didn’t know how to respond to Mikes vague answer to her apology. Her hands clasped together. You have a mission to complete. Lecca had her responsibilities as princess. It was also her mission to lead the Holy Knights against the Demon Lord. There was no room for negotiation, the very same person that was fabled to return had attacked the Crown Jewel. War was inevitable, and here she was caught in the middle of the conflict. This wasn’t the time to get distracted. She entered the store without sparing time to her now drifting thoughts. After meeting with the store owner, Lecca found herself with the grey uniform that was issued to all the officers of the kingdom. er rank was displayed on the sleeves, her unit insignia was displayed on the lapels, and the two awards she had received during her service hung as specially colored cords on her left shoulder; one was for her service at her current rank, and the other was for her unit’s accommodation for valiant service during a combat operation within the kingdom’s borders.
She held the uniform tightly as she disappeared into a nearby changing room. It was five minutes until she reemerged and drug Mike out of the store.
Approaching the entrance to Bishmark’s city hall, Mike was the first to visibly notice the four guards standing waiting for them. Standing at just over six feet, the guards were as tall as they were trained and muscular. Not even the prowess of those that made up the Ranger battalions could stand against these men in physical aspects. Most of the regiments contained men that stood just at 5’10, and they were more lean than mean. It is as if these guards had spent their entire careers in the gym working out all the time until they were called for active deployment. One could say it was a simple miracle that their clothing fit them comfortably, and complimenting their choice of cloth was the finest, most inspection-ready armor that could ever be found. The metal shined clearer than most staff SNCOs shoes, and their clean-cut hair and facial features made them blend into one another. Mike couldn’t slip pass the rough men without drawing their attention. He was wearing camouflaged fatigues with all his gear concealed behind the cover of the large cloak he had. Compared to the forest it was impossible to blend into the urban city environment.
“Chieftain Arish!” Walking out from the main entrance, a man and his aide stepped outside with the man waving over Lecca and her Holy Knight. The guards beside the two snapped their right arms over their heart, a common salute amongst Yondel’s troops. Letting the excitement and love she held close to her heart slip away, the princess’s face scrunched due to the frustration and anxiety that was building in her mind.
“Norman Quartz. He is the mayor of the city.” Lecca kindly informed the sergeant with a hint of venom behind her words.
“What’s this about? Is this related to a report back to the castle?” Mike inquired.
“Mayor Quartz has jurisdiction over this city. He is the one to file for damages and make a call for arms to the Royal Court,” Lecca said lowering her gaze.
“So, he isn’t exactly our ally,” Mike surmised. “Politicians.”
“Ally is a strong assumption, Holy Knight,” Mayor Quartz walked just in front of the sergeant. “My job is to provide safety for my people. Anything that happens within these walls ultimately are authorized by me and my staff. We also hold the responsibility of seeking revenge for anything that happens. I am not your ally, but neither am I your enemy. Remember that for the future.”
Mike watched the princess as she became unsettled by what Mayor Quartz said. “You knew of the Holy Knights. Was it your idea to bring them into this world through fire?” She accused.
“Princess, I am nothing more than a businessman and a protector,” the mayor announced as he opened the doorway to the private conference room in the city hall. “It is my responsibility to address everything that enters city limits. If the king were to order special men that are not from this world were to come here to bolster defenses, it is my moral obligation for the people to know what was coming.”
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“Intelligence is something that can make or break an operation. Did the attackers know that we would be here? That’s treason—” Mike was cut off by Quartz’s assistant.
“Holy Knight, our people have been locked in a shadow war against the Demon Lord and the criminal underworld. This is not the first time we have been attacked, and it certainly will not be the last. We have survived massacres and those that wish to do terror against the kingdom’s subjects. If mere words and ink on paper is enough to ruin everything the king has planned, then it should speak volumes that the hundreds of civilians and men that died all died for nothing. To stop such things, it is ultimately up to the people to take arms against these threats and remain capable of surviving without the king,” from behind the mayor, a woman stepped beside Quartz as she adjusted her corset letting Mike catch glimpse of the knife hiding within. “Do not tell me that your civilization has not faced such challenges! If so, then we are reassured that your summoning was a waste of critical resources and that our lives are condemned to end.’
Mike remained silent. His eyes narrowed in anger at the sudden woman’s outburst. Is this bitch serious? He composed himself as the princess placed a hand on his shoulder.
“That’s enough!” Mayor Quartz ordered. “Chieftain, I will wait for your report inside.”
07:20 HOURS.
THURSDAY, 15 AESTAS 1433.
VIRIDIS, YONDEL.
KNIGHT SPECIALIST “EMMA”. Princess was a title that was discarded by the late Lecca-Maradel Emma Arish. She had taken her middle name for use in everyday life, and it served as her shield and sword. Under this smile she would wear; she was no longer a princess of royal blood. It wasn’t a wish to stand out, nor blend in amongst others. And here she was standing amongst the world, her honey-brown hair shimmering with strands of silver.
High amongst the mountains she was cradled in the grasp of the Architects as she slowed from her ascent into the sky. She had only the clothes on her back and a metallic pipe that she carried in her left hand. She had slowly loosed the leather armor that was soaked with sweat and discarded it on destroyed slabs of stone that littered this point amongst the stars. Her hands reached to the heavenly blue that broke free of the rising sun that was brought up my mother Juna in the east. They fell from the heavens as she rested against the last standing stone wall that was carved amongst this place.
Her eyes were forced shut as a purple glyph etched itself into her right eyelid. Emma’s mouth slammed open as a howling scream ripped across this valley that shielded the quaint town far below. Search and destroy were the orders for the single drop of blood that escaped her eye. She was given this directive, one to utilize her powers that went beyond the conventional like the devolving soldiers of her generation; this war of distance, to put away this resistance that would grow beyond the throne. There was a hero that once placed an idea amongst the common man that held his weapon that the disconnect between himself and a weapon was to be created by the distance made in the fight. Above her the greying clouds were silhouetted against the burning blue heavens. The shine of the sun forced her to narrow her eye as she raised the metal pipe and settled her aim. She had to take her time before committing to firing the shot; projectiles were only meant to be fired at shorter range, but she had adopted the science behind firing trebuchets and other short-range magic-based artillery to complete her mission. There were limitations. Gravity, wind speed, and direction would determine if the men on the ground would die or survive and complete their mission.
She centered the square reticle on a large warehouse that was twice as large as the buildings surrounding it. The surrounding district was beautiful, it was a shame that her unit was going to turn it into a warzone.
The mission had already started…
So far everything was moving according to Knight Chieftain Jensen Tellus operational planning. The commander oversaw regaining control over the territories on the eastern border of the kingdom, and he was given a blank cheque by the king himself. There wasn’t much known about the senior officer; anything the princess could have found was vague or listed very minor achievements during the Inter-Peace War. However, he had proven himself with the last operation as he was able to blitz through hostile forces with minimal casualties. Speed and efficiency. Jensen would use anything to gain the advantage on the battlefield, and from what the princess would understand, he was aiming to run for the Grand Harbinger billet. If he were to reach the top position in the military, a revolution in combat doctrine would happen and tear away the old world and culture. If Jensen could once more find success in this mission to take back Viridis from hostile forces, then his future was all but assured.
Readjusting her grip on the metal pipe, Emma noticed a faint purple glow on the inside of the warehouse. She almost missed the light, as the picture displayed through the magnified view wasn’t focused solely on the building. Over the next two minutes the light grew more-and-more visible. And once it was clear that the relic had been fully activated and ready to be disrupted, she exhaled slowly. A bolt of blue escaped the end of her weapon. Not moving from her post, the princess watched as the blue light streaked across the sky and fell from above. It took seven seconds for the bolt she fired to breach one of the large windows of the warehouse, and it cut through the glass like paper as the round dispersed into a hail of blue sprinkles and mist. Five seconds after the bolt had reached its target, the harsh purple light from within vanished in the blink of an eye, and the surrounding lights within the city turned off. From the distance she was at, Emma could never hear the worried shouts of the civilians that exited their homes and the stomping boots of her fellow soldiers storming through the city. She could only watch as her men scattered like ants as they all moved to their assigned targets.
Her mission was complete unlike theirs. It was time for her to leave.
Stepping away from the destroyed wall, the princess disappeared from the mountain. Three hours later a search party of battered revolutionaries emerged to find the one that had ruined their plans. Most of their men were either killed or taken into custody by the army. A scout that was off duty had provided a tip that someone wearing heavy gear was spotted in this area, but by the time they had arrived, nothing remained. There was no evidence that someone had been posted in this place. In a fit of rage, the leader of the search party burned down the gutted remains of the building.
Before she could vanish into the great wilderness that spanned the entire nation, Emma found herself drawn to a mountain-side stream.
She looked at her reflection before reaching out a hand.
Her fingertips submerged below the surface and tainted the water. The faint trace of miasma that covered her eyes distorted the reflection…
…Long silver hair flowed in the wind. A silk black dress adorned her figure. A single scar formed over her right eye.
24:59 HOURS.
TUESDAY, 30 AUTUMNSUS 1441.
GLACIES, YONDEL.
PRINCE SIMON WAITED.
The blonde prince was seated in the second level of the throne room overlooking the war council that the king had gathered after the assault upon Bishmark. Only the torches and mana-infused lights provided any ambient light in the pitch-black darkness that enveloped the kingdom. He was a man of pure grit, insatiable desire, and special powers. Everyday he would compare himself to the Holy Knights that had enamored the entire capital. The legend of great heroes could not compare the mystery of Holy Knights chosen by Mother Juna herself.
A slim hand traced his left arm. Darting his shining azure eyes to the left, he stared at his companion: a girl with flowing, jet-black hair. She had adjusted the tunic underneath the white cloak that was draped over her body and head. He silently smiled raising his hand and capturing in her fingers that held him tightly. She was a woman of great secrets. Though, the life she had lived was of pure persecution, stemmed from the policies of the previous king. For him to stand as prince, and for him to witness great change amongst the existence of valiant heroes and ferocious Holy Knight—the price was too high—and they had all paid dearly for this moment for where they stood. “This will all be over soon.” He whispered gently to his companion. With a small nod she fought the tears that had long strolled down her pale face. Her golden eyes flickered with life with the dancing flames of the torches and the stead glow of the mana chandeliers that reflected the moon’s love and everlasting embrace. For this, they would forever make a commitment—perhaps thought it may differ—for the people and for each other, this bond had to transcend the end of the world that the Demon Lord so wished to set upon humanity.
Earlier in this long day, the First-Born Princess had returned to the safety of the capital walls and had returned to her duties as the king’s left hand. Her duties as an officer had been complete. As the assassin that acted as the commanding officer of the Holy Knights, she would ultimately be useful to them and their futures by the information she would collate and disseminate. Targeted attacks were now to be conducted by the squadron under her, and her days operating solo as a diplomatic liaison were long in the past. She had no identity, not even the destiny she once inherited as a princess. Bishmark was a stain on her record. And Prince Simon could only wonder what her supporters and enemies would think of this event.
Her identity—what she had wished for—she had long bid adieu. And here she strutted through the halls breaking into the throne room. Prince Simon let out an amused hum as she saw her with a bright smile directed at her escort; a taller man with shaggy brown hair who slowly looked around the room. They were locked in a conversation that only their lips and ears would ever bear witness too. Even if she was a threat to his succession, some part of the crown prince felt comfort in knowing that the princess finally had something to believe in, even if that meant her life was forfeit to the Demon Lord.
“Your majesty what we saw at Bishmark was unlike anything I ever expected in this world, one filled with technology that is simply outdated,” Captain Oliver only paused to spare a glance to Princess Lecca-Maradel and Mike who had arrived at the central table. “There isn’t much I can provide outside of an official report of our accounts. What I can say is that the damage we saw beyond the city and within the walls is like artillery: more specific 115 rounds that were a combination of traditional indirect—and special purpose Gauss emplacements.”
“And magic?” King Aldrich questioned, “Is such a weapon being used by the common man or our adversaries?”
“I simply don’t know enough to answer beyond conjecture.” Oliver admitted, “Even with my studies into Magical Theory and Mana Physics, this can very well be the result of someone that has a basic understanding of hurling a rock packed with explosives at a target. It’s simple enough in concept.”
Oliver turned around and nodded to his lieutenant, “Devlin, fetch me—uh—Knight Marco’s report that we gained from that girl Ariel.”
“Of course, captain.” Andrew responded as he put on his khaki fleece liner and walked away.
Before anyone could continue the conversation regarding the assault on Bishmark, an Admiral appeared before the king with his small escort of sailors and junior officers, “Your Majesty, Admiral James Hag, Port Authority, we have a report regarding the sinking of the Firestorm. We recommend speaking about this promptly and authorizing the 22nd Flotilla to investigate.”
“Gather the admiralty in the capital for an immediate review board, deploy the 22nd Flotilla and utilize the Army’s 5th Waterborne Regiment to assist their operations,” the king said in a low voice letting his previous gentle expression turn firm as he tapped the admiral on the awards he displayed in his uniform.
“Yes, your majesty.”
Everyone at the table remained silent as the king gently folded his arms and tucked them in the long sleeves of his robes. Captain Oliver itched at the scruff on his chin, an attack on the Navy. To coincide with the destruction that plagued the kingdom’s crown jewel, for there to be two attacks within the span of less than a week—if his assumptions were right—than this so-called Demon Lord could very well be putting forth his preliminary stages for an invasion.
Lieutenant Andrew had returned to the group as the admiralty quickly left the scene. His confusion from the passing group was never satisfied as the king took control of the briefing, “As my will would keep me here to trudge through this meeting, I will take my leave for this fleeting moment with Chieftain Arish.”
Lowering her head, Lecca avoided the gazes of her men around the table. No one spoke a word as she turned around and followed the king out of the throne room. As they walked in step the princess’s eyes passed by the occupied halls and balconies of the castle. Between the guards and servants keeping the world moving she almost missed one of the Holy Knights, Jacob Green, exiting the room withdrawing a slim, white object from a small carton and heading the opposite direction.
“I heard that you slept in the garden for some time,” King Aldrich suddenly stated.
“Yes—I did,” Lecca became embarrassed that the king had knowledge of her nap. “To what did you call me for? Does it involve the Holy Knights?”
“It seems that you have gained a reputation amongst the Holy Knights and my flag officers.” Reaching a small door at the north wing of the castle, Aldrich pressed his hands against the handle and pushed it open allowing the princess to enter. Without another word he snapped his fingers shooting a small beam of red energy to a conduit at the center of the room: the candles and torches surrounding the perimeter flamed alight and painted the room in a gentle orange glow. Stumbling over to the table to the side of the room, his hands aged hands brushed over the surface of an unnamed book. “You are truly growing into your own person, Lecca-Maradel. To your men, you are a shining light. Remember that next time you speak with them. Though they may not say much, they appreciate everything you have done for them. Captain Thompson has assured me as much.”
Choosing to sit at the table, Lecca brushed aside her silver locks. She wasn’t sure why the king had called her here. She had gained the answer to her earlier question, yet was she being moved from her current post? It felt as if the king was addressing her as an officer, not the princess. He does that all the time… she thought as the older man walked to the opposite side to sit down. If he was indeed to switch the command of the Holy Knights, that only meant that he intended to use them in direct combat against the Demon Lord. That was the only way to kill them without incident. I’ll kill him. She promised herself. Nothing would harm her Rangers, not if she could raise her blade and draw blood.
“I am no fool. The campaign that the flag officers want to wage against the Demon Lord will kill us all,” Aldrich said slowly. “The attack on Bishmark was a bastardly and cowardly move. Yet now it shows that the great threat has returned, and it is something we can no longer ignore with blissful ignorance.”
“Admiral Hag is bothered by the incident that happened in the Golden Sea. Perhaps the Demon Lord is staging a naval invasion rather than choosing brute force at the northern border.” Lecca observed.
“What Admiral Hag wants is not something for you to toil over,” the king said. “The Demon Lord is vicious and will draw out our best. The deliberation held between my council will force your Holy Knights to initiate a retaliatory strike—”
“Is this why the Holy Knights were brought to this world!? What of the heroes of legend—the ones who will liberate this world!” Lecca screamed at the king, her voice breaking as she kept the man still from the tight grip she forced upon his arm.
King Aldrich remained silent as he broke his arm free. “Have you ever seen a hero?” his voice was tired, but still held venom. If an heir to the Demon Lord existed, or he still stood amongst the shattered remnants of his armies, this sudden attack upon the kingdom had cut short the timeline of five years to kill the man. Heroes and Demon Lord alike, Aldrich never knew their names as a young man. “Our nation has expended heroes for centuries and with these Holy Knights—it is time for our own people to fight for our survival. We cannot rely on one man, less we be destroyed by pure ignorance.”
“The Rangers are your answer to this!?” Lecca glared daggers at the king as her veins carried a purple glow in both of her arms. “You are a coward!”
“Lecca I am no fool. Unlike Senator Orpheus and his cohort, I understand that this kingdom relies on outside entities to a fault,” Aldrich explained. He opened the door to his study stopping at the entrance to finish his thoughts, “These men are not of royal blood. Like all Holy Knights that have come before, they are men of valor, soldiers that exceed anything that the men of this nation can do. The lessons we will learn will last for generations and will allow our people to have hope. We know, they know that their place in this world is only temporary, and they—like the heroes—will someday depart without sparing a thought.”
Entering the pitch-black room, two torches on either side of the king combusted and provided an amber hue as he took a seat at the desk to the opposite side of the entrance. Lecca watched Aldrich; her brown eyes gentle reflected a shade of hazel. Her lips pressed trying to understand why the king would take such actions. Aldrich leaned back in his seat and stared at the sprawling painting of his wife that was behind the princess who stood at the doors.
“For these men to stay here: it is misery. They are warriors much like yourself,” he murmured as the princess slowly set her foot forward to approach. “They fight unlike anything the men of this world have seen before, and if provided chance they will take this kingdom by force. They no nothing of our culture, our ideals. We may have spelled the end of our people by allowing them into this world. Yet, unlike Senator Orpheus, these Rangers are not cannon fodder and will never be treated as such. However, to spell the end of this Demon Lord, a proposition must be made.”
Lecca narrowed her eyes, “A proposition?”
Aldrich smiled, “Senator Orpheus has told me that a new threat has been found within the Frontier. Arriving with the report from Bishmark’s Mayor and Ariel’s observations, he intends to separate my forces and strike us when we are weak. To understand what we are against, the senator has requested of me to dispatch the Holy Knights to perform a special reconnaissance mission deep within the heart of the Frontier. No regular rank-in-file can undertake such a mission without great difficultly and loss—Harbinger Tellus has been reluctant to send his “Watchers”—so, for these people, and for these Holy Knights to find their true purpose in this world, I must ask of you to accompany these, Rangers.”
Lecca understood what the king was asking. Even if she held the right to refuse, this would turn into nothing but an order from those that controlled the strings of the military. Aldrich had placed his trust in her abilities, and more importantly the capability of her men. She had completely misinterpreted why he had called her here, and such ignorance displayed that perhaps that was the reason why he was asking her such a question. This could be viewed as a suicide mission. Everything she had learned of the old ages pointed the Demon Lord to being ruthless in his treatment of spies and soldiers.
But she was an assassin. She was the hidden blade of the kingdom. Her position as a diplomat was nothing but a cover for the hundreds of deaths she had orchestrated. A small smile crept upon her lips, “You wish for us to eliminate the Demon Lord? To prevent an invasion, such a bold decision.”
“No,” She was taken aback by the blunt answer. “I am only fulfilling an old promise to keep you alive. Captain Thompson taught me an old saying from his world” The enemy of my enemy is my friend. There is no other option I have in this matter, and I will use everything I can to ensure that you are alive to keep the light of this nation alive.” He stood and wandered to the window where the gentle moonlight shined upon his greying hair. You are going to enter a place where no human has set foot in centuries. It will be my pride to send the most capable warriors alongside you, so that my people will find a haven where the terrors of this world do not exist.”
“You say that as if you will die.” Lecca challenged.
Looking over his shoulder, the older man let out a hearty chuckle, “If I do, reclaim the kingdom using the lessons the Rangers teach you.” Stepping away from the window, the king reached the only door present within the room, “Lecca, you are the rightful heir to the throne. Not even the crown prince can change such a fact. Your father wished for your life to extend well past my own. Yet, he challenged me to help you fulfil your own purpose in this world.”
Stepping through the doors, the king was absorbed in darkness.
His footsteps slowly fading left the princess alone…
Publicly Available Information: Operation First Stand:
Under the command of King Aldrich, over 25,000 soldiers from the army and 20 vessels from the navy are participating in a defensive maneuver to halt a possible invasion from the Demon Lord’s forces.
Along with traditional warfighting units, specialized infantry units have been deployed along with the famed and mystified Holy Knights. They act to augment the already capable knights and soldiers, and sailors on the front lines, and their primary mission is to act as deep-reconnaissance parties to alert forward operating bases set up across the norther border.
Knight Chieftain, and First Princess Lecca-Maradel Emma Arish has taken command of the Holy Knights which have been ordered to deploy to the largest settlement within the Frontier and perform a dual-purpose scouting mission.
