"Secretary of Defense Charles Robinson, the recent Unity and Aristocracy assault has been repelled, making this the fifth successful defense of the City-State of Salva. However, I regret to report that our assault had limited success.
Colonel Hackett's Minutemen and USAM Special Forces assigned to his command have destroyed many key outposts and observation posts, flushing out the enemy, but they have failed to find a creative way to find a weak point. Hackett will continue looking for a break and keep the White House updated on any additional information.
Regarding Salva, the city is holding better than expected. The Minutemen commander's plot to install Princess Assiaya and use her to free the city civilians had bought enough loyalty to justify our control of the city. A few see us as occupiers, but most so far seem to accept the situation.
The city wall had withstood consistent artillery and direct attack from the enemy with minor damage because these blue crystals that have been programmed or enchanted (I have heard both terms be interchanged) add an additional hardness to the concrete. When there was damage, our concrete healed, and using mixtures similar to Roman Concrete (more refined than discovered on Earth) has been helpful. The City Engineer was shocked that we didn't use such properties during the reconstruction of the Salva wall.
The enemy artillery attacks have caused damage within the city. However, 4th ID damage control teams and engineers have responded efficiently. Luckily, our active area defense has proven useful, limiting the amount of collateral and civilian casualties. – Lieutenant General Sherman to The Pentagon
April 6th, 2068 (military calendar)
4th Battalion Aid Station, Salva, the former Confederacy of Daru'uie
Nevali Region, Aldrida, Alagore
*****
Thanks to the concrete walls halfway up the giant grain warehouse, dozens of screams silenced all other sounds, making Natilite feel deaf. The loud sound, combined with the overwhelming smell of blood, made the genetically enhanced Templar feel sick. However, she forced herself to continue treating every soldier possible—Altaerrie and Salva.
The recent attack nearly broke through a wall section, resulting in heavy casualties for the Allies. Still, in the end, they bravely repelled the enemy. While most of the victorious soldiers went off and celebrated their hard-fought victory, the Templar duties were not complete, and she focused on her attention to aid the wounded.
Picking a bucket of bloody rags, the Anglice warrior transported them to a table on the other side of the room and set it on a bloody wooden table. A pair of fury hands from the other side of the table lifted the basket. The pair of hands came from a blue with black and white strip hair neko female, wearing the red and white maid-style outfit that Assiaya sometimes wore without the maid fashion; however, the woman wasn't a maid from the Palace but a Maidans from the Temple of Brevia.
"Thank you, my lady," Ayaka-Brevia asked.
"No," Natilite said. "You have been great. Is there anything else I can provide?"
"This should be enough," Ayaka-Brevia said.
Seeing the Neko Maidans take the basket and walk away to the next patient, Natilite turned toward the large room and saw all the hard-working healers, medics, and Priestesses attending to the wounded. With the non-stop attacks over the past two Zulu weeks or two Earth-standard weeks, the Americans took over the warehouse to manage the flow of wounded.
Everyone was working tirelessly. The American medical staff was focused on treating the wounded. Among them was another USAM ally, a Canadian unit from the 33 Field Ambulance and Ivy 4th Battalion Aid Station, who was sent to assist with logistical aid. The city Temple staff acted as caretakers, helping ease the injured and acting as nurses because language barrier language had been an issue; however, everything was moving smoothly.
The barrier to communication had not been the only issue since the Aristocracy began their siege against the city. The methodology between the two worlds regarding medicine had proven to be drastically different. The Temple of Brevia replied on potions, which were in short supply thanks to the last time the Vampires occupied the city two Zulu months ago and, more traditionally, the two Temple mages who specialized in sanamancy magic.
To the Templar surprise, while there were many female healers among the Americans and Canadians, there were far more males than she would expect. Throughout Alagore, this role, women typically dominate these roles, either civilian or military. For one, the idea is that females are more nurturing and suitable for being a healer. More importantly, more men not occupying support roles meant more fighting in combat.
Hearing commotion louder than the norm within the room, Natilite saw in the middle as doctors and healers struggling to treat one of the American soldiers. Instantly, she saw the problem. The wounded man received an energy bolt in the side.
Taking a breath from the sheer exhaustion of the long day's work, the Templar walked over and gently passed through the staff, to the Army doctor's annoyance, but she didn't care. The Templar placed her hand on the man's cheek, gently using her strength to force him to stare at her until their eyes locked.
"To Mother's Son, you are loved and valued by your deeds. Your spirit has been seen by our cosmic creator by your brave actions. Those who love you and the souls of those you protected will always be grateful. Be calm as you are loved. You will always remember not by the actions of others but by the honor of your character. Be at peace as you have done your Man's duty, as those who seek harm to Salva have been deflected thanks to your action. Be graced. Be loved. Lay your sword down not in defeat or shame but in pride. We thank you, noble warrior."
Once Natilite prayed, she leaned down and gently kissed the man on the forehead. She smiled again at him before walking away, allowing the medical staff to do their jobs.
The American doctor removed corrupted elements like dead skin, fabric, and debris from his battlesuit. After cleaning each section, the medic and priestess applied an anti-burn blue gel over the wound to begin the healing process.
The Templar continued navigating from bed to bed, from soldiers and militiamen, giving each of them a prayer. Each time, the warrior calmed down or appreciated the jester. One man replied that he was an atheist, but she replied, "Mother does not care," which humored the man for some reason.
Feeling exhausted after many hours, Natilite sat down at a nearby table. The moment her body rested on the old wooden chair, she felt her body nearly collapse. For most of the day, she had been going from the battle to assisting the Canadians and 4th ID. Feeling the emotional stress of the situation, she took a deep breath to calm her nerves.
"You look like you could sleep for a week."
Hearing Mathew Ryder's voice, a sense of joy replaced the exhausted feeling, and her body perked. She turned around and saw her Altaerrie Captain. While wearing clean clothing, his mannerisms also screamed exhaustion. Most likely from his officer and recently politically appointed Duke responsibilities, he had a joyful aroma covering tiredness.
"What are you doing here?" she asked.
Ryder placed a cup of water. "It is my job to watch the welfare of my team."
He then looked toward the wounded soldier that she added before turning back to her. "I have seen you do this ritual many times. What is it?”
"What practice?" Natilite turned toward the wounded soldier and saw the medics treating burns and sword sounds. That was when she realized what her Captain meant. She turned back to him and continued, "Being a Templar does not only mean I am a warrior of death, but I am also a wondering voice of Tekali."
"I did not know Templars were also Priestess," Ryder said. "Not a usual combination."
"I mean," Natilite said. "I need to remember that you do not have Templars. We are not just warriors; many provide other roles and services. I choose to bring peace and love in a world of death."
"And how does that explain a generally overpower warrior helping bring peace to the wounded? Or when a certain Captain attempted to shoot up a camp?"
For some reason, Natilite felt embarrassed as she recalled that night at the campfire after rescuing the Captain. She understood why the Altaerrie Captain was repeating the question. It was not typical for a warrior with so much power to be so gentle. While she was proud of who she was, for some reason, the Templar didn't want to explain the whole reason. It was clear that he didn't fully believe what she said. Not that anything was untrue, however, leaving out personal context.
"You are correct. Most Templars would not waste their time doing this. Most of us have arrogance alongside our superior strength. But, as a Templar, I have helped many nobles in their wars. Defended cities and fought battles. I saw firsthand how rarely the men who fought are honored. As a woman Templar, I felt I could bring peace to them not with my superior strength but with my beauty and femininity to show them that someone cared."
While everything the Valkyrie said was true, she couldn't help but remember her time before a Templar. Her village was destroyed, and she was sold into slavery. The life that she once had was being ripped away, and no one was able to defend her.
"That is honorable of you. Giving someone peace before death."
Natilite shook her head. "No. Before life. Women bring life, and I am trying to instill the courage and will for the wounded or sick to live. It just does not always happen."
Ryder stood there proudly. "I can respect that, but I think you've done enough. You have not stopped since the attack."
"I do not know," Natilite said. "I do not want people to think I have abandoned them in their most venerable state."
"I get that, but working yourself to death helps no one. Besides, a victory party is happening at one of the taverns, and everyone would like to be there."
"I will be there. As a Templar, it is important for me to be present at such moment to provide moral."
As Natilite finished her sentence, she saw a reaction from her Captain as if he was not happy with her response.
Ryder leaned in and said, "I was not asking a Templar; I was giving an order to a team member. I am not discerning your responsibilities; you should also be with us. And you are no use to anyone half dead."
It took a moment for the Templar to grasp what Ryder was saying. She had been invited to events because of her status. Not that those moments were not friendly, but there always was a barrier between common folk and her. She was not accustomed to being invited as a group member or as an equal.
Feeling that her body had had enough and the Tekali blessing had been honored, the Valkyrie decided it was time to relax.
"I'm happy to," Natilite said. Can we stop by the Palace so I can change?"
"I thought that was going to be a given," Ryder replied as he stood up."
"Rude," Natilite said before chuckling. "Are we going to pick up your daughter before meeting the others?"
"No issue," Ryder said. "She is already with the guys."
The Valkyrie stared at the Altaerrie Captain, and now the Duke was baffled that he would leave the Princess, his daughter, and a group of soldiers alone.
Ryder lightly nodded his head sideways, reflecting on his comment. "Maybe that wasn't the best idea. But I got Kurt, Rommel, and Greg there to supervise…, I hope."
"Well," Natilite said. "Let's hurry before your comrades corrupt her."
April 6th 2068 (military calendar)
Raven Turtle Tavern, Salva, the former Confederacy of Daru'uie
Nevali Region, Aldrida, Alagore
*****
Staring at the limited selection of alcohol on the wooden shelves, Benjamin Ford pretended to struggle to decide which option to pick. Everything had elvish names, which was understandable. Luckily, the Kitsune owner had the foresight to add English labels to the drink groups so her thousands of new customers could place orders. The category with the most options was under miruvor which was wine. To his surprise, there was a section labeled polë whiskeui as wheat whiskey. The last was sáva, which is labeled as juice and water.
Hearing tapping, Ford turned and saw a Wood Elf impatiently waiting for him to place an order. The bartender spoke only Elvish, so the Sergeant couldn't understand but got the hint. He was taking too long.
"What to pick? The wheat whisky, or what I assume is wheat. They said that was moonshine, but… ah, whatever, red, green, or orange wine or water."
"Lag-or," the elf bartender said.
The Sergeant waved the bartender off, making the point to hurry. After another minute, he decided to get a little of everything, as he knew the rest of the team would want to taste-test the native booze. He ordered one bottle of each wine, three bottles of whiskey, a bottle of moonshine, and one bottle of blue juice.
The elf bartender quickly inquired about his drinks. Next to the tray of drinks, a piece of paper and a handwritten receipt were placed. The Latin numbers were at the top, but the English translations were below.
While the price was high, it was what Ford was expecting. With the sudden high demand from all these USAM soldiers wanting alcohol after a hard-fought victory, what surprised the Americans was how fast the elf was able to do the math without a machine. He would have had to use the calculator app on his cell phone for a hefty bill. However, they would have to rely on brainpower alone without such gadgets.
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Being an alien bar, Ford thought he would struggle with the payment, only having American currency. But the bartender was already a step ahead, demanding his country's physical notes or coins over his city payments.
This was the first time the Comanche Sergeant experienced this. While most of the Philippines had used physical currency, they had the digital infrastructure to accept card or bank transfer payments, sometimes during their deployments. The locals then would take the American money to the bank for the proper exchange, which he assumed this bar was planning to do.
While there was no official exchange rate between the two currencies, Ford knew the city Salva Council and Brass were working on it. He knew soon enough, the leadership would figure out the details. The American leadership would want to invest, and the city wished to tax. The local bank guild would want to monopolize the exchange for the long-term benefits of profits and institutionalize themselves on the continent. And whoever owned this bar knew all they had to do was store all these currencies, and once the politics was sorted out, there was a massive payday.
After paying with the collective pool of Comanche money and taking the tray, Ford navigated the crowded tavern with dozens of Americans and Militiamen celebrating, chatting, playing games, and more. Some were playing darts from a makeshift tree bark board on the wall. A group was educating elves on how to play the Chinese game Go. In contrast, another table played an Elvish board game resembling cribbage.
Most of Comanche was in a U-shaped round booth. They were enjoying themselves. Higgins, Gonzales, and Barrett were educating Fraeya on how to play poker. Forest and King were telling stories about Earth to Assiaya, who sat between them. Wallace and Barrios stood, with the bulky member flirting with a Neko waitress. The other Twin was playing his recorder, attracting a small audience.
The Filipino member of the team spotted the Sergeant first. "Ben, it's about time," he said.
"For a moment there," Forest said. "I thought we were going to have to request a QRF to find you."
"Ha, ha," Ford said as he set the tray on the table. "There was a long line, and to hell, I didn't know what to get. It is all alien drinks, so don't blame me if you don't like them."
"What is the poison?" Wallace asked.
Fraeya's ears poked up sharply, and her eyes were filled with fear. "You drink poison!"
"Do not drink poison," Assiaya said. "A Laryenas bit Father and nearly killed him because of that."
There was a moment of silence between Comanche before everyone laughed, which confused the Elf Girl and Princess. Each member orderly began taking a pint cup and pouring different drinks into their cups.
"Why is everyone laughing?" Fraeya asked before frowning. "Is this another one of those human jokes?"
"You have much to learn about humor, Fraeya," Forest said. "Do not worry, Assiaya; it is a nickname we give alcohol."
"Because it technically is poison," Gonzales said. "So, I had to tell a judge once."
"Ooo," Ford excitedly said. "I need to hear this story."
The Filipino grabbed his pint of miruvor with a neoplastic smirk. "What happens in Fort Magsaysay, stays in Fort Magsaysay."
"I did not know you were deployed in the Philippines," Ford said.
"Only for training exercises," Gonzales said. "Not for Operation Poseidon Hook. Even though I was born in Washington, some Officer thought I could help with PR and translation. My god, he was pissed when he realized I only spoke English and had never been to the country in my life."
Ford found the situation hysterical but understandable. The Twins jab for more information from the team's medic, showing that their Filipino member had his secrets.
Operation Poseidon Hook was a major multi-decade military campaign from USAM. This anti-pirate campaign was waged against the tens of thousands of pirates in the South China Sea and Southeast Asia as a whole. When the formal Maoist China collapsed into warring factions, fishermen became pirates. They raided the most valuable shipping lanes in the world, using cheap drones and missiles with great effectiveness in capturing or destroying fighters. This significantly impacted key USAM allies, Japan, Australia, Taiwan, and the Philippines economies, forcing a response.
This required a significant naval task force, including Marines and Special Forces, to engage this insurgency on the waves. Some might believe that fishermen could stand against a modern maritime ship; the issue became that these small groups were being sponsored by their Chinese warlords and the newest Great Power, Indonesia—while not enemies with USAM, they did not enjoy foreign militaries in their backyard and provided shelter for tribute.
As everyone poured their drinks, Fraeya placed her cards on the table with her face in full displacement and leaned over at the drinks, which caught the attention of the rest of the team.
"I take it you've never drank alcohol before?"
"Sort of." Fraeya poked her two index figures together as her ears lowered, showing embarrassment. "I had drinks once when I first entered the academy. I recall seeing many cute boys but do not remember much afterward. Afterward, my teacher said I should not drink again."
"Light drinker," Wallace commented.
"I disagree," Barrios countered. "You might be a secret party animal."
"Down, boys," King said. "Now, who is brave enough to make the first attempt?"
Ford glanced around the table, and everyone reacted similarly. He could see the Sergeant First Class's eyes signaling to stop serving the elf girl drinks. The Sergeant switched the drinks from alcohol to sáva.
"Should we wait for the Boss and Wings?" Ford asked.
"Do you mean, His Majesty?" Higgins commented.
"Knock it off," King said. "Matt said he would join us later after getting Wings."
"Go figure," Wallace said in jest.
"Why did you say that?" Assiaya asked.
Rommel King responded to the Princess' question, silencing others who wished to comment. "Eger is pointing out how close the two have become friends. That is all," he said.
"I see," Assiaya said. "Are you jealous because you two were close friends?"
The group struggled to contain their laughter, which baffled the Captain's daughter and confused the dual-eyed girl even more.
Fraeya held her drink, believing that it was wine with excitement. "I think it is nice that our leader is attempting to include a Templar. I have heard stories of how such warriors are isolated from the public because of their abilities and status in society."
"Make sense," Barrett said. "Most heroes have an aura around them, making people respect them but feel they cannot approach or relate. The more status one gets, the more detached they become from the plebes."
"Exactly," Fraeya said. "Natilte has been the only Templar I have ever met, but I have seen a few in my time. But the stories, there are always stories."
Forest grabbed the bottle labeled sáva and poured a pint halfway before setting it to the dual-eyed Princess. She looked at the blue juice and then at the alcohol.
"Can I have one, please?" Assaiya asked.
"Sorry, kid," Forest said.
"But…, they are," Assiaya said, pointing toward the bar booth. A group of children close to her age were drinking, being part of the party.
"If they were my kids," Forest said. "I would beat them."
"Well," King said. "They shouldn't. Drinking alcohol is strictly an adult beverage and bad for kids."
"But," Assiaya said. "I am an adult. I am a leader of a nation and representative of your people."
"Technically," Ford said. "By this world's standards, they are adult."
"And if my kids used that excuse, I would make them work on the farm all day," Forest said. "If they are old enough to drink, they are old enough to get a job."
"I do have a job," Assaiya said. Everyone saw the Staff Sergeant glaring at the Princess, unable to respond, making her sit there with a giant grin.
"I bet that topic ended quickly," Gonzales said. "But Ben is right; there are many places on Earth that culturally allow kids to drink, regardless of its effect on children's development. Half of Europe don't have legal age."
"That is a yes?" Assiaya asked. "If your world allows it."
Wallace leaned against the table, staring at the Princess. "Don't worry, Warrant Officer. I think the Princess of Salva should enjoy a drink."
The comment caused everyone to pause, leaving only Fraeya baffled, looking around in confusion. The bodybuilder poured the Princess a glass of whiskey and pushed it toward the girl, to her delight, as she felt part of the big boys. The Twins then nodded at each other and smirked.
"Have a drink, Assiaya," Wallace said.
Barrios gently bounded his chest with pride as he held his whiskey drink in the air. "It will put hair on your chest."
Assiaya eagerly grabbed the pint but was suddenly stopped by the Hispanic comment. "What do you mean, hair?"
"You know men have chest hair?" Barrios said.
"How do you think we grow it?" Wallace added. "Stronger the drink."
"The grizzlier you become," Barrios commented.
The Twins held their pints into the air and cheered before consuming their drinks in one go. Once they finished, they started singing like drunken sailors. For the Princess, she slowly turned to her cup before pushing it away. "I do not want to be turned into a boy."
Seeing the girl's sudden U-turn, everyone laughed, finding the Princess's reaction adorable. Comanche raised their drinks into the hair and celebrated Wallace's quick thinking. They began chanting the Minutemen motto before taking a long drink.
Ford slammed his pint onto the table, unable to finish, causing the Twins to harass him. That was when he saw Ryder and Natilite approach their section of the tavern. The Sergeant waved them over and showed them to their table.
"Hey," Higgins said. "The Duke of Salva has arrived."
"Looks like the prom couple has arrived," Barrios commented.
"What do you mean by that?" Fraeya asked.
"Will tell you later," Ford said.
Benjamin Ford saw the same look from most of the Comanche. The only two who reacted confusedly were their elf mage and the Princess. However, no one quickly responded, as their Warrant Officer-1 gave a warning stare toward everyone.
Fraeya looked around with confusion and leaned into her chair, arms crossed. "Humans and their secrets."
When the two approached, there were typical greetings; however, Ford also saw some using Ryder's royal titles besides his rank. It was in jest, probably from the alcohol, but he saw that Captain was uncomfortable with them.
Sensing the awkwardness from the Captain, Natilte wrapped her hands together and leaned into the table, "I heard something about a secret?"
"Nothing," Wallace said. "Are you back from the bed baskets?"
"Bed baskets?" Natilite asked.
"He means the Aid Station," Barrett said.
"Oh." Natilite touched her forehead and momentarily closed her eyes, allowing herself to de-stress. "For people who do not have potions, your medical technology is… crude but impressive. I think we were able to save many soldiers and militiamen."
"What do you mean by crude?" Ford asked.
“I…,” Gonzales responded. "Do not have the knowledge to explain."
"I think I get it," Ford said. "Potions are a generic healing versus our method of developing medication for each illness. If it is anything like a fantasy game or manga, you just chug a healing potion and are back at a hundred percent. Fantasy is more general while we are more precise."
"I think I understand your metaphor," Natilite said. "But you make it sound like there are no downsides."
Ryder's right hand went for his chest, where he received the Akuma blade attack. However, he stopped himself and grabbed a pint. "There are downsides," he said.
"Very well crafted, Ben," Forest said. "I am impressed."
"Thank you," Ford said. "Being a nerd has its benefits."
Gonzales held his pint midway in the air as he collected his thoughts. "Anything that accelerates the body's healing process would have negative effects. Outside our Boss getting an overdose, I do wonder if the potion accelerates diseases like cancer within the body, assuming the principles are the same."
"I do not know what cancer is," Fraeya said. "The Healer Sages have warned that giving the wrong potion or not conducting the proper prevention measures could make a person ill."
"That has been the debate at the aid stations," Gonzales said. "While they are medical wonders, we do not want to lose our ability to innovate in treating people."
"Hold up," Forest said. "I know this is important, but this just clicked. Wings, have you been at the aid station since the attack?"
"That is correct."
A sense of pride and respect could be felt throughout the table as everyone raised their drinks. The Templar was a super soldier with high status in Alagore society. A skilled warrior who understood the arts of war and yet was willing to spend half of the day assisting with the causalities. Assiaya was confused by everyone's mannerisms but attempted to mimic the ritual with her drink.
Rommel King said, "Cheers for Wings."
With all the sudden attention and gratitude, the Templar, on the other hand, stood there with rosy cheeks as she was embarrassed. The Comanche Captain whispered to her, telling her it was worth coming here after all.
"You know, Boss," Forest interjected. "What is the plan for the food? I can eat MREs until my grave, but I think the locals would disagree."
Ryder chuckled and said, "I will contact customer service about that. But why are you asking me?"
"Do we really need to say it?" Barrio said. "Boss?"
"Because you are the city dictator," Higgins said.
"You are the Man now," Wallace said. "The Boss of Bosses."
"Yeah…," Ryder said. "I am a Duke on paper for PR reasons but not a dictator. Let's leave it at that."
Natilite grabbed one of the pints with miruvor in it. Before she sipped, the Valkyrie mumbled, "That is not what Hackett said…."
Ryder turned to the Templar, shocked by what she said. "But I am not."
"The Republic is democratic like your people," Natilite said. "Even they have a dictator. Every country, every empire has a strong man as a leader, or it is doomed to falter."
"And if I understand," Fraeya said. "Your President is a dictator."
"Great man?" Higgins said. "What if the ruler is female?"
Natilite looked confused, as if she didn't understand the airman's point. "Then the female ruler is a strong man in that context. Weak men have never led a people to prosperity, so I do not understand why you asked that."
"I think we have different definitions of what a dictator is," Barrett said.
Ford found the sight humorous when he saw their Captain glare at the Templar before continuing his drink. As the newest American member of the team, he had grown to respect Mathew's leadership ability to include aliens in the team and navigate the culture of this world. Some concerns have been regarding their leader's appointment to a royal position. Still, he has also seen their leader resistively embrace responsibilities beyond Captain.
The nerdy Sergeant understood the Colonel's plan. The girl the Captain saved when captured by the Aristocracy turned out to be the last survivor of the royal family of this region. Hence, the Americans installed her as their representative leader on Alagore to reach out to potential allies and show legitimacy. However, because of the bond Assiaya and Ryder developed during their horrific escape through the wild of this hostile moon, he understood why their leader adopted the girl, which the Brass forced him to take a political position in this world's House Geopolitics landscape.
But Ford had to admit that it was weird serving under a Captain who was now considered royalty, even if it was a diplomatic stunt to gain allies.
"I might be Duke," Ryder said. "But that does not mean I am invited to the Brass meetings. They tell me what they want, and I pass it along to the City Council, and they do the same. I am just the middleman."
"Only because you act like one," Natilite commented, intently glancing away to engage with Fraeya.
"We already know that, sir," Gonzales said. "We just want to know when we can get fed."
"And we know you are on the inside," Higgins said. "Because it relates to the City Council."
Ryder took a frustrated breath and then finished his pint. "Same as before. With the city being cut off from the rest of the region, no imports. Until then, one MRE a day."
"Why are you worried about one meal a day?" Fraeya asked. "I am hungry, but you ask that like you are afraid of something."
"Civilians," Forest said. "They become revolts if they don't have a full belly."
"That is correct," Ryder replied. "But I will say this: Hackett and Sherman are impressed by how resilient the townsfolk have been. We expected food riots by now."
"That explains all the MPs around," Wallace commented.
"I don't think we will see such things with this crowd," Gonzales said. "At least not for a while. When I am on aid duty, I do not hear much whining. I think they have just accepted the reality they are in."
"Hard SOBs," Higgins said. "Stateside, most people slip when there is an avocado shortage."
"Are you that surprised?" Natilite asked. "Food shortages happen all the time. It is war, after all."
"Wings," King said as he held his glass of wine. "Our poorest people are fat. It is the benefits of building such a safe country we have to invent problems to add struggle."
"I will never truly understand you Americans," Natilite said.
"Hey, Boss," Forest said. "Speaking of all these food shortages. Have the brass considered importing chickens?"
"Why would we do that?" Ryder asked. "There are eggs in the MREs, and they last longer."
"Not my point," Forest said. "Chickens are egg factories. On the farm, we had so many eggs we had to give them away for free."
"Hold on," Ford said. "We live in the city. How would that help us?"
"Sorry, Ben," Higgins said. "I hate to agree with my big country boy here, but he is correct on this one. Growing up in Detroit, my mother hated our neighbor with a small chicken farm in his backyard. At least until she got free eggs because they ran into the same issue, there is no reason people here couldn't own a few chickens."
"They don't take up that much space and are low maintenance," Forest said. "All things considered. It wouldn't solve the shortages but could help."
Ford leaned in, holding his hand halfway in the air, and said, "Now that you mentioned it. Every village I went to in the Philippines had chickens everywhere. I see what you mean."
"What is a chicken?" Assiaya asked.
"You know those dinosaurs your dad told you about?" King asked.
"Yes," Assiaya replied. "They were giant monsters who ruled your world and beat the British."
"Correct," Barrett said. "The T-Rex was King of the predators, and now they are the most efficient egg layers that roam the Earth."
Some men started to chuckle at the jokes; however, Natilite suddenly placed her hands on the table and leaned in with intensity. "Are you saying you have an animal that produces eggs in mass? Cheaply?"
Kurt Forest and Charlie Higgins turned toward each other before at the Templar again, responding with yes.
"That is amazing!" Natilite said. "Last time I had an egg, it was a reward after I helped a wealthy Yalate city lord six years ago. Hunting for eggs is dangerous and produces limited results. It is rare to collect enough eggs to feed a village, let alone a farm. Most birds do not lay enough to matter."
"I have to say, guys," Ryder said. "I am embarrassed that we didn't think about it sooner."
"That is government for you," Forest said. "Skip the simple solution; find the most complicated."
"See what happens when a conservative and a liberal work together?" Barrett said. "Solutions."
Higgins and Forest turned to each other and declared their mutual hatred based on political stereotypes.
"That being said," Ryder said. "I will pass it along the chain of command first thing in the morning."
"Happy to help," Forest said. "I hope to get royalties."
"Forget royalties," Higgins said. "We should go into business. We could own this world."
As the two bicker about how to start a business around chicken eggs, the rest of Comanche held this drink into their hair and collectively said, "To the thirty-second Amendment!"
"Alright," Ryder said. "I think you guys have had too little to drink."
"You are welcome to join us, sir," King said.
"Order me two drinks," Ryder said. "But first, as Duke, we have one last responsibility before I can clock off. Assiaya, we have to do some PR."
Assiaya navigated through the team until she reached her Father's side, grabbing his hand. Ford sat there with a smirk. The two began moving around the tavern, with the Princess thanking the soldiers and Militia for their brave defense. The Duke made small talk and attempted to speak in the native Latin and Elvish tongues.