Chapter 19: Negotiations
July 11th, 2053
Capital City of Ronta, Imperial Palace
Emperor Rontus sat in a chair staring into the fireplace, lost in thought. He was in his private study with Legatus Vislex discussing the American crisis. A portrait of the Emperor hung over the fireplace on the wall to the left of the door. Bookshelves lined the walls with various ancient scrolls and manuscripts from across the continent.
The room was lit by a chandelier hanging from the ceiling and by windows looking out over the city. Across from the fireplace was a spacious desk for the Emperor, where he kept his ink and writing implements. Next to his desk, he had his own private mana comm station.
There was a knock at the door. “Enter,” the Emperor said automatically.
Lord Tanalus came in. “Your Majesty, we have just received a report from General Ulmok in the Kashir Forest. He has news of the Princess.”
That caught the Emperor’s attention. He immediately got out of his chair and asked for details.
“She was captured by the Americans at Rontak’s Reach, but she was not a prisoner for long. She went through the portal to meet with the American President on your behalf, sire. She managed to lay the groundwork for negotiating a peace treaty with the United States.”
“That’s…” Emperor Rontus could hardly believe his ears. Not only was his daughter okay, thank Gwuardon, but she had done a great service to the Rontak Empire, and not for the first time, either. All he could manage to say was, “That's… good news.”
“When she learned of the Prince’s actions, through the Americans, she rushed back to the Kashir Forest and arranged a temporary truce with the United States.”
“A truce?” Emperor Rontus asked curiously.
“Yes, Your Majesty. All hostilities have ceased for the moment. She also sent us all the information she managed to learn about them.”
He couldn’t believe his ears. Everything he saw in his vision pointed to a bloodthirsty kingdom of savages. Sophisticated savages to be sure, but savages nonetheless. And yet they seemed to want peace?
“Bring me her report immediately,” he commanded. “And convene the House of Lords. They will need to elect a delegation to speak on their behalf. Make haste, Lord Tanalus, this is of the utmost importance.”
“At once, Your Majesty,” Tanalus replied with a bow. He left to carry out the Emperor’s will.
“Vislex, summon my private counsel. We must settle on a diplomatic strategy to deal with the United States. And make sure they are made aware of everything we know about them so far.”
“Of course, Your Majesty,” he replied.
The initial negotiations would of course fall to Princess Maribelle and General Ulmok. They were already in the Kashir Forest ready to maintain the truce. But he and the House of Lords would send an official delegation to represent their interests.
Their usual negotiating position was reversed. Instead of having the upperhand over the opposing kingdom, they were now woefully outclassed. What were the Americans hoping to gain from a truce? It was possible that this was all a trick; deceitful maneuvering to gain an edge, or perhaps take high profile hostages. Either way, he had much work before him.
July 11th, 2053
Somewhere Above the Rontak Empire
Prince Cevlion was fuming. Who did these little knights think they were? He was the Crown Prince! How dare they assault him and treat him this way. Enough was enough. He wouldn’t tolerate this insolence any longer.
Just a little while ago, they flew over an Imperial army camp. If he could somehow take control of the wyvern he was on… The other two knights wouldn’t be able to shoot him down. Their orders were to take him back to Ronta; burning him to a crisp 2,000 meters in the air wasn’t a good way to do that.
His hands were bound by rope, but luckily not behind his back. He grabbed the shoulder of the knight in front of him and pushed her over the side of the wyvern. The safety straps attached to her armor did their job and she didn’t fall, unfortunately. The wyvern jerked to the side in response to the unexpected weight shift.
The knight tried to climb her way back up to the saddle, but he kicked her in the face.
“How’s my boot taste, bitch!” He taunted.
The other two knights couldn’t do anything directly to help their comrade. All they could do was maneuver themselves below his wyvern in a vain attempt to catch the knight should she fall.
Prince Cevlion was doing his best to make that happen. He reached for the connector that latched the safety harness to the wyvern. She screamed at him to stop, but she should have thought of that before turning against him. He was about to unhook the harness, but then thought better of it.
“Cut me loose!” He demanded of her.
She shook her head in refusal.
“Cut me loose or I will cut you loose,” he said sinisterly.
This time she complied. She reached for her knife and cut his bindings.
“Thank you,” he said, “for making your last act loyal to your Prince.”
Then, he unclipped her safety harness from the wyvern, and she fell, screaming towards the ground far below. The other two wyverns dove after her in a futile attempt to catch her. At last he was free of his meddlesome sister’s servants. He turned his wyvern around and headed back for the Imperial army.
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Prince Cevlion landed among the wyvern enclosures. His mount was stolen from the Order of the Dragon, so it didn’t have the adornment worthy of someone of his stature. His sister was an embarrassment; she rarely demanded the respect a member of the Imperial family was entitled to, and it always seemed to bounce back on him. No one of any importance bothered to meet him when he landed.
The attending beast handler looked quite surprised to see him. “Prince… Prince Cevlion?”
Without breaking stride, he barked, “Kneel, you peasant,” and continued on to find the general or lord in command.
After some searching, he found the commanding lord to be none other than his old friend, Lord Kighvum. Lord Kighvum was born to a wealthy noble family in Ronta and inherited his title. He was young for a Lord, no older than the Prince himself, but that didn’t mean he was inexperienced. Years of studying at the Imperial Academy did him well.
A few years ago they had invaded one of the elven kingdoms on the eastern edge of the Vushfall Mountains. They managed to win some decisive battles and even capture a few cities. However, after they were recalled elsewhere in the Empire, the general who took their place squandered their success and lost control of the new territory.
Damn those elves and their magic. And damn that incompetent general. He managed to escape the Prince’s wrath by falling in battle; a fate too kind for his failure.
“Lord Kighvum!” He exclaimed when he saw his friend. “I didn’t expect to find you here. Don’t you miss the good’ol days on the frontier?”
“Everyday!” Kighvum replied. “Remember the look of shock on that elven king’s face as we burned his city to the ground?”
“How could I forget!” Celvion exclaimed.
They shared a laugh, reminiscing about their old conquests.
“Not to worry,” Cevlion said. “Soon we’ll show those upstart Americans the Rontak Empire won’t be bullied off our own land.”
“It’s not just the Americans, your Highness,” Kighvum responded. “There's been a rebellion south of the Kashir forest. Aside from General Ulmok’s forces, we’re the closest Imperial army.”
A sinister grin formed on Prince Cevlion’s face. “Then I guess we’ll just have to deal with that first,” he said. “Nothing puts a smile on my face quite like crushing a few revolting peasants. Summon your generals. Let's get to work.”
After planning out an attack on the rebelling cities, Prince Cevlion went to the mana comm station. “Everyone get out,” he ordered.
He waited for the staff to shuffle out of the room, then sent a message to Ronta. If his fool of a father was going to send the Order of the Dragon after him, he would just have to call in his own allies. A few threats, a bribe here, a favor there…
July 12th, 2053
Northwest Duremar, Rogh’Hack Forest, Horagush Tribe
The Returning Home festival was a two day affair. The first day celebrated the reunion with their lost kin, while the second day mourned those who were not so lucky. There were bonfires, wrestling matches, and food; lots of food. They couldn’t seem to run out of baked goods.
Major Mathews’s favorite was a cookie made with some kind of fruity jelly. He made a mental note to find out what was in it before he went back to Fort Roanoke.
Now that things had settled down, he finally had a chance to meet with Chieftan Arglag and the tribe’s elders. They were in a small berry bush grove near the center of the village. There was a stone pavilion nearby housing a small shrine. The grove was enclosed by a wooden fence half mixed with bushes and shrubs. The Horagush tribe didn’t have a town hall or anything similar. Most formal meetings took place in public spaces.
Arglag wasn’t happy about their continued presence, but the elders managed to persuade him to listen. Chief Protector Rutglore also sat in on the meeting, and Thungar stood with his American friends to grant them more credibility.
Mathews explained their unique circumstances and then laid out the diplomatic proposal from the higher ups. It was a mutual defense agreement that would obligate either party to provide military aid if called upon. On paper, it was a two-way agreement, but he knew that in practice it would solely benefit the minotaurs.
It was an attempt for the US to get their foot in the diplomatic door and begin creating a sphere of influence on Tempestia. It would also substantially curb Rontak slave raids, hindering their workforce. Mathews didn’t care about the geopolitical games his superiors were playing; he was just here to extend the offer and convince them to accept.
“What help could you be to us?” Arglag asked. “The forest is not an open battlefield where two large armies meet face to face. You would be out of your element here.”
“I assure you, we have extensive experience in all manner of battlefields, including woodland warfare,” he countered. “Aside from logistics and direct combat support, we can show you how to fight a numerically superior enemy and train your warriors in guerilla tactics.”
“Even still,” Arglag said. “You are a country made up entirely of humans from a world of only humans. Why should we even consider trusting you?”
“I am not of your tribe, but I will vouch for the Americans,” Thungar declared. “They are the most noble warriors I have ever met. They are nothing like the humans you know. Many of the others who returned with me can attest to this as well.”
The elders muttered amongst themselves while Arglag studied Thungar, trying to determine the authenticity of his statement. The elders were never able to finish their deliberation, however, because a minotaur clad in armor went up to Rutglore and whispered something in his ear.
“Forgive the interruption,” Rutglore said as he stepped up to address the elders. “Some of my scouts have spotted a raiding party coming this way. Perhaps while you prepare the village defenses Major Mathews could join me and my protectors and give a demonstration of their worthiness as allies.”
One of the elders spoke up and said, “That is an excellent idea. Back your words with action, and then we will continue this discussion. We will grant your proposal more serious consideration if you have Rutglore’s endorsement.”
“Have they not proven themselves already–” Thungar exclaimed, but Mathews reached up and put his hand on Thungar’s shoulder.
He stepped forward and said to the elders, “It would be our absolute pleasure to kick some Rontak ass with you.”
“Keep an eye on them, Rutglore,” Arglag added. “Do not let them jeopardize the safety of my tribe.”
“My first and only duty is to protect the people, Chieftain,” Rutglore said with a slight bow. “I will not fail.”
Rutglore turned to leave, and Mathews followed while Thungar stayed behind to help the village prepare. Mathews rallied his soldiers at the edge of the village and informed the squads left at the vehicles of the situation.
Before long, Rutglore met them with his own band of warriors. They were equipped much like they were when they ambushed the convoy. They wore armor and carried spears, javelins, bows, and axes; seeing them like this was a stark contrast to the peaceful way of life inside the village.
Mathews left one squad at the village and followed Rutglore with the rest of his men. They moved quickly through the forest. The minotaurs seemed to have to slow down in order for the Americans to keep pace with them. Finally, they stopped, and Rutglore had the main group hold position while he sent scouts ahead.
“Hang on,” Mathews said. “We’ve got this. Get recon drones in the air! I want the location and number of the enemy troops.”
A dozen recon drones from different squads came to life and buzzed into the air. They zipped through the woods, but their speed was hampered by the foliage.
“What are those things,” Rutglore asked as he watched them fly away.
“We call them reconnaissance drones. They’ll find the enemy and send that information back to us much faster than your scouts could.”
Mathews pulled out his tac pad and waited for the drones to relay information. He showed it to Rutglore as the drones slowly pieced together a map of their surroundings. His own men were already marked on the map, but not the minotaurs. After a brief explanation of the device, Rutglore showed him where to mark the locations of their existing defenses.
They had traps spread throughout the forest along common raider paths. Pitfalls, nets, spring traps, caged animals; Mathews was glad to have Rutglore’s guidance through the forest. He wouldn’t want to try traversing it on his own, ignorant of the dangers.
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Before long, the recon drones found the Rontak soldiers and marked them. They were approaching in two main groups. One was marching along the same road the convoy took, likely as a diversion. Mathews sent one of the Abrams tanks supported by infantry to meet them. A modern battle tank would scatter them without issue, but Rutglore insisted on sending a contingent of his own warriors just to be safe.
The other, larger group was advancing through the forest in small groups of a dozen or so men. Each group was in a tight semicircular defensive formation no more than 10 meters apart from the next formation. Each one stayed packed together as they weaved through the trees.
With the enemy’s location known, he and Rutglore worked together to reposition their troops to intercept. They found a good spot to set up an ambush along their predicted path.
“I want C4 there, there and there,” Mathews said, pointing to ideal concealable locations.
“Yes sir!”
A few soldiers hurried off to plant the explosives at the designated sites. Then, they all got in position for the ambush. The minotaurs climbed into the trees while the Americans took up positions hidden on the ground. They arranged themselves to catch the enemy in a crossfire as soon as the C4 detonated. Rutglore remained on the ground with Major Mathews.
“It's as if you’re melting into the forest itself!” Rutglore said, astonished at how well they blended into the terrain. Their camouflaged uniforms made them near invisible at a distance.
With everyone in position, all they had to do was wait. It was the calm before the storm, and everyone knew it. Every snapped twig, every leaf rustling in the wind was nerve-racking.
“Quiet,” Rutglore said at last. “Do you hear that?”
Mathews listened but didn’t hear anything. The everpresent sound of the forest's vibrant wildlife was reduced to crickets and a few birds chirping in the distance. “Nope. I don’t hear anything.”
“Exactly,” Rutglore said. “The Rontaks draw near.”
Soon the forest was no longer quiet; leaves crunched underfoot and twigs snapped. There was movement in the distance as Rontak soldiers came into view. Their shields were raised and their spears ready. They cautiously scanned the trees for anyone hiding above; they must have been familiar with minotaur tactics.
Suddenly, they heard a boom in the distance. The other group of enemy soldiers must have found the tank he sent to intercept them. Another boom sent a wave of unease through the enemy soldiers. They looked around, not sure what the noise was.
They weren’t in the optimal position yet, but Mathews didn’t want to wait any longer. If an overzealous minotaur jumped down and started the attack before being given the signal, others would follow and friendly fire would be a major problem. He counted down with his fingers and clenched his fist, giving the order to detonate the C4.
The explosions turned the first few formations into clouds of smoke, dust, and limbs. From behind fallen logs, rocks, and mounds of dirt, dozens of assault rifles and machine guns came to life. The surviving Rontak soldiers formed a shield wall, hoping to find some reprieve, but it was no use. Bullets ripped right through their shields and armor like they were made of tissue paper.
Mathews saw the awe on Rutglore’s face at the effectiveness of their weapons. Sharpshooters picked off enemy officers one by one, causing disorder in their ranks. Those that maintained their formation quickly fell to the onslaught of automatic weapons fire. Huddled behind cover, enemy archers blindly fired in their general direction. Up in the trees, minotaurs joined the fight with their own bows and javelins, but it was unnecessary. In mere minutes, the enemy was routed, and he ordered his men to cease fire.
Apparently, beating back the enemy wasn’t good enough. Rutglore came out of his hiding place where he watched the massacre and roared. Minotaurs jumped down from the trees and chased after the fleeing Rontak soldiers, cutting down any stragglers who fell behind. If Mathews had lived through what these people had, he would probably feel the same way about letting survivors escape.
“Check in,” he said over the radio. “Everyone alright?”
Reports came in from squad leaders. One soldier was unlucky enough to get hit by a stray arrow, but there were no serious injuries and no casualties.
“Sir! We have a problem!” a lieutenant said, as he jogged up to the major. “A drone spotted enemy cavalry going around us. They’re headed for the village!”
“Send a squad after Rutglore, let him know what's happening,” Mathews said. “Everyone else, back to the village!”
As they sprinted through the forest, he radioed the squad at the village to let them know what was coming. By the time he and the rest of his men got back there, it would be over, one way or another.
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“Sergeant Payne!” Private Hart called out. “Got a message from the major. Enemy cavalry got past’em and are coming this way.”
“Dammit! Get everyone to the front of the village!” Payne ordered.
They took up position on either side of the settlement’s entrance, joined by Thungar and a few minotaurs carrying bows and spears. They didn’t have any heavy weapons to defend the village, just their assault rifles and a handful of grenades. The forest didn’t give them a clear line of sight either; the trees blocked their view making it that much easier for the enemy to get close.
Minotaurs hastily dragged tree trunks in front of the opening in the wall, but all it did was provide them with a bit of cover. A horse would have no trouble jumping right over their makeshift fortifications.
The recon drone tracking the enemy showed only about thirty horsemen, but that was enough to do considerable damage. They were close, but the foliage limited how far out they could see. Payne clenched his rifle, scanning the trees for signs of movement. He soon found it. Rontak cavalry burst out of the trees and sped up to a full gallop along the path into the village.
“Open fire!” Payne shouted.
They aimed and fired their weapons at the enemy. One of the horses staggered from the weapons fire and stumbled to the ground, throwing its rider. The unlucky man and the horse were trampled by the others behind them. The rest kept coming though.
The minotaurs loosed their arrows. One of the riders was knocked completely off his horse by an oversized arrow. They fired as many volleys as they could, but the cavalry was just too close; they couldn’t all be shot down before reaching the village.
“Grenades!” Payne shouted.
Eight grenades arced over their heads towards the approaching cavalry. They exploded, sending shrapnel into the legs of a dozen horses. The unfortunate animals crashed into each other and fell to the ground, but more lept over and kept charging. They were right in front of the village entrance now.
“Get down!”
They ducked behind the improvised barrier as the horsemen leaped over their heads into the village. They attacked anyone within reach with their spears and saber–like swords. Half a dozen minotaurs around the gate were cut down immediately.
The survivors didn’t hesitate and counterattacked with spears and maces, knocking off one rider after another. One of the last riders to enter the village turned around on his horse and got a look at the Americans before being riddled with bullets. Thungar threw a spear through the back of one of the riders, picked up a mace from one of the fallen minotaurs and joined the fray
“Check your fire,” Payne shouted, as he and his squad reengaged the enemy.
The battle had become pure chaos. Enemy riders ran around near the gate causing as much damage as possible, but there weren’t that many of them left now; more than half were killed before they even reached the village. They certainly weren’t expecting this much resistance. One by one the remaining cavalry attackers were taken out by Sergeant Payne’s squad and minotaur defenders. Payne watched as Chieftan Arglag knocked the last Rontak soldier off his horse and thrust his spear through down into the man’s body.
One of the tribe’s elders came to the village entrance and saw the trail of fallen horses and enemy corpses leading to the village. The majority of them were killed by American weapons, rather than arrows.
“Thank you for helping us,” he said, solemnly.
“No problem,” Payne said. “Just doing our job.”
The elder looked around at the bodies of the dead minotaurs with grief in his eyes. “Had you not been here… this–this would have been much worse. Tell your leader that we will accept any aid you are willing to offer.”
“Good to hear that,” Payne said. “Glad to call you a friend.”
July 14th, 2053
Southeast Duremar Plains, Girshan
Daniel was leading the 4th Deep Recon Team on a routine patrol around the vicinity of Girshan, keeping an eye out for enemy activity. Over the past few days, the higher ups had sent more and more personnel to Girshan to prepare for the arrival of the Rontak delegation.
The Diplomatic Security Service took over safety precautions for the meeting with Princess Maribelle and General Ulmok. Their agents swept the whole town already while marine and army units were in charge of securing the area around the town. Barracks for personnel were set up outside the town walls.
Civilian life was heavily disrupted, by Earth standards at least, but the locals didn’t mind too much. With their farms destroyed and the US providing humanitarian aid in exchange for the abolition of slavery within their town, there wasn’t really all that much for them to do. They had plenty of food without the back breaking labor of farmwork, so they were content with the increased military presence.
“We’ve got aerial contacts coming in from the south,” Liv said.
“It must be the Princess,” Daniel replied. “Let's call it in.”
He radioed command at Girshan to let them know they’ve spotted Rontak wyverns. It wasn’t long before they came into visual range. A flight of wyverns was approaching in a wide V formation.
“There they are,” Benny said.
The wyverns flew right over them towards Girshan.
“Let's hope things go well,” Liv said.
July 14th, 2053
Southeast Duremar Plains, Girshan
Princess Maribelle flew at the head of the formation of wyverns. She, Kallia, Ralva, and General Ulmok were on their way to speak to the Americans on behalf of the Rontak Empire and hopefully resolve this conflict. She had never spoken for the Empire on such an important matter before. Sure, she occasionally went as an emissary to other kingdoms, but her duties then were mostly ceremonial in nature.
She heard a growing roar in the wind as an American airplane whooshed past them. Two more flew up to the sides of their formation, startling General Ulmok.
“Their wings!” He exclaimed. “How do those things fly!”
It was hard to hear him over the sound of the airplanes. They may be fast beyond anything else in the sky, but wyverns were certainly quieter. The planes eventually turned outward and flew away, though Maribelle did not make the mistake of thinking they were gone; just out of view.
In their place appeared several of the wingless flying machines they called ‘drones’. The drones flew with them as escorts until they reached Girshan. It looked quite different since she was here a few days ago. There was an array of vehicles and tents set up outside the town walls. The Americans had really set up shop.
The drones directed them to a plot of grass outlined with blinking lights. They landed and dismounted their wyverns. Ambassador Smith, Lieutenant General Reed, and Baron Rentho were waiting for them. With them were plenty of American soldiers and the men in black suits with their eyes covered by some kind of device.
After they exchanged introductory greetings, Baron Rentho led them to the town hall, where the negotiations would take place. Ralva, Kallia, Princess Maribelle, and General Ulmok followed the two Americans into the main hall. It was well lit by hanging braziers and a hearth, supplemented by American lighting set up around the room. There was an elongated table in the middle of the room with several comfortable looking seats around it.
Ambassador Smith and Lieutenant General Reed took their seats while both delegations’ guards waited outside. The Americans prepared their papers and fancy devices in front of them. Maribelle felt inadequate. She didn’t have the time to put together her own reference materials, nor did she have much to reference even if she had more time to prepare.
Now that they were behind closed doors, General Ulmok dropped his diplomatic facade.
“We had an agreement!” He nearly shouted without even sitting down at the table. “Neither of us were to engage in any hostile acts against one another. If your army was not so absurdly powerful I would have–”
Maribelle put her arm in front of Ulmok to signal him to stop talking. “Explain this betrayal of our trust, now,” she said more concisely.
They were referring to the report they received from the raiding forces stationed in the Rogh’Hack forest. While conducting a routine slave raid they were decimated by American forces in blatant disregard for the previously arranged truce.
“I think I know what the problem is. This is all just a misunderstanding,” Ambassador Smith said tactfully. “We’ve recently entered into a mutual defense agreement with the Horagush minotaur tribe. When your soldiers approached their settlement they invoked the treaty and we were obligated to come to their aid.”
“So the truce we agreed to only goes one way?” Ralva asked. “You can attack our armies when it suits your interests, but you expect us not to do the same? What were you even doing consorting with minotaurs in the first place?”
“We were returning captured prisoners of war,” Lieutenant General Reed said. “I assure you there is no deceitful intent behind our deployment to the region. They were simply there to provide armed escort, which was evidently a good call.”
“Our soldiers weren’t there to attack you, they had no idea you were even there! You had no right to interfere with our affairs,” Kallia adamantly asserted.
“The United States takes its international commitments and the defense of its allies very seriously,” Ambassador Smith said coldly.
This was not going well. Maribelle could feel the tension building in the room like a fireball rushing towards a crate of mana crystals. She had to do something before things got any worse.
“In that case, perhaps we should work out a more formal agreement to avoid further misunderstandings,” she said. “After all, that is the purpose of this meeting, is it not?”
Her companions seemed to simmer down. General Ulmok finally took his seat.
“I concur,” Ambassador Smith said, smiling towards Maribelle. “First and foremost we should agree to a format for permanent dialogue between our two governments so that we can defuse future issues before they escalate.”
“Soon my father will send a delegation of Lords to speak on his behalf,” Maribelle said. “Would you be able to host them when they arrive?”
“Of course,” Ambassador Smith responded. “They may stay at Fort Roanoke or travel through the portal to our world where we can better accommodate them; whichever they are more comfortable with.”
“For now, it would be best to remain on this side of the portal, so they don’t have to bother with your translator droids,” Ralva added. “I can’t fathom how you manage diplomacy on your world.”
“That would be convenient,” Ambassador Smith agreed. “Very well. We can discuss embassies later, but before we get bogged down with the details, there are other urgent matters to discuss. Firstly, we’re still searching for a handful of the people you abducted. Your cooperation in their safe return would be greatly appreciated.”
“Kallia,” Maribelle began, “as soon as we’re done here today, I want you to rally what knights you can and assist the Americans however they need you too in finding their remaining people.”
“Maribelle!” Kallia complained.
“Spread the word that all American slaves or prisoners are to be returned, unharmed, at once,” Maribelle continued, undeterred by the interruption.
“Yes, Princess,” Kallia relented.
“Excellent,” Ambassador Smith said. “In exchange, we’re willing to begin repatriating POWs.”
“I don’t understand,” Ulmok said. “Why would you just give us back the prisoners you captured?”
“We have to start building relations somewhere, don’t we?” Ambassador Smith replied.
“But why would you release prisoners back to us? How does it benefit you?” Kallia asked.
“It is their right as the victor of that battle to handle the captives as they please,” General Ulmok reminded her. “If they wish to throw away perfectly good laborers, that is their business.”
“Here’s a list of names, if you wish to select anyone specific you want released immediately,” Lieutenant General Reed said, ignoring his counterpart’s remarks, as he slid a tablet across the table.
Kallia and Ulmok looked confused, but Maribelle knew the basic operation of such devices from her short time in the US. She took the tablet and scrolled through the list. There were so many; it was hard to believe that they all survived that first battle.
“We’ll need time to look through the list,” Maribelle decided. “In the meantime, releasing the surviving knights of the Order of the Dragon would help us find your people quicker.”
She had already sent a mana comm message to the rest of the Order to begin searching for Americans still missing. But any extra manpower she could muster would still help. Under normal circumstances she would have been concerned for her comrades, but having seen and experienced American prisons herself, she wasn’t worried.
“Of course. In fact, that's already being arranged. Any of your knights who have identified themselves to us will be transported here tomorrow,” Lieutanant General Reed said.
Maribelle was relieved at that. She would finally be reunited with her knights. She hadn’t seen them since Rontak’s Reach. She hoped there wouldn’t be too many absent faces.
“Unless there’s anything else you’d like to add to the topic of war prisoners, we’ll be moving on to reparations,” Ambassador Smith said.
“Reparations?” General Ulmok asked. “For the annihilation of an entire army and the seizure of Rontak’s Reach? I’m surprised you would bring that up.”
“Not exactly,” Ambassador Smith replied. “The attack on New York City caused considerable property damage and loss of life. As such, we expect to be fairly compensated.”
“HA! Absurd!” Ulmok retorted. “You quickly beat back that raid and since then we’ve lost so much more than you have. You are the ones who should be paying reparations!”
“Our actions were in response to your unprovoked and indiscriminate attack on a civilian population center,” Lieutenant General Reed said. “The Rontak Empire is the clear aggressor here.”
“Let’s at least hear them out, General,” Maribelle said, remembering that the United States had overwhelming military superiority. Turning back to Ambassador Smith, she asked, “What sort of payment are you looking for?”
Ambassador Smith opened the envelope in front of her, pulled out a packet of pristine white paper bound only at the corner, and slid it across the table.
“This is a tabulation of the damages we incurred during the incident,” she explained. “The total cost comes to around 20 billion US dollars. If you turn to page four, you’ll find conversion rates to various precious metals.”
Maribelle turned to the specified page and glanced over the information. She wasn’t familiar with American money, but 20 billion sounded like a lot. Her heart skipped a beat when she saw how much 20 billion dollars was worth in gold.
“T-Thats… not possible,” she stammered meekly.
“Let me see,” Ralva said as she slid the paper closer to her. Her eyes widened as she saw it too. “Is this some kind of joke? You could empty the Rontak Empire’s coffers a dozen times over and it still wouldn’t be enough to pay this.”
Maribelle could see Kallia and General Ulmok’s alarmed curiosity at her and Ralva’s reactions. Before she could show them the amount, Ambassador Smith said, “It’s not our intent to demand something you aren’t capable of paying. This is just a starting value that can be negotiated.”
She pulled two objects out of her pocket and slid them across the table. “Do you recognize these?”
It was a mana crystal and a small piece of mithril metal.
“Yes, of course,” Maribelle replied.
“We would be willing to significantly lower the equivalent cost of reparations if the payments were made in magical resources.”
Things started to click into place. They were interested in magic but came from a world completely devoid of it. They were trying to get access to resources they couldn’t find on their own world. It made sense. For all their marvels, the United States was even less adept at magic than the Rontak Empire. It was clever, but somewhat transparent, diplomatic maneuvering; but it was also preferable to the alternative.
“I think something can be arranged to that end,” Maribelle said with a surge of renewed confidence. “Let's negotiate.”
The meeting continued for the rest of the day. There was so much to be done, and this was only the preliminary groundwork. The real negotiations would be handled by the delegation sent by the House of Lords when they arrived. Maribelle was exhausted. Unfortunately, the coming days only promised to have more of the same in store for her.
July 15th, 2053
Southeast Duremar Plains, Girshan
A rock flew past Daniel’s face as he walked through Girshan on his way back to the barracks.
“What the hell?” He said out loud while he turned in the direction it came from.
At first, he thought it might have been a villager disgruntled about the recent and sudden abolition of slavery. Or maybe a kid with nothing better to do than throw stones at the foreign soldiers. But it turned out to be neither.
“Sorry!” Benny called out. “Still haven't gotten the hang of aiming yet!”
Benny, Elmot, and David were in the town square, a large courtyard near the market. Elmot was casually leaning on the branch he took from the archwood tree, which was now looking a bit more like a stereotypical wizard’s staff.
“Benny? What’s going on?” he asked as he walked over to them.
“Benny is trying to–” Elmot began.
“Don’t ruin the surprise!” Benny interrupted. “Here, I’ll show you. Fire me up, Elmot.”
Elmot raised his arm towards Benny and a stream of light blue magic particles flowed out of his hand towards Benny.
“What are you doing?” Daniel asked again, curiously.
“Just watch,” Benny said.
He gestured towards a pile of rocks by his feet. Magic particles swirled around his hand and one of the rocks gently lifted off the ground and floated up to eye level.
“Holy shit, Benny!” Daniel exclaimed.
“Pretty cool, huh?” Benny said. “Check this out!”
Benny moved his arm like he was throwing a frisbee and the rock flew through the air like it was thrown by a major league baseball pitcher. Luckily he didn’t hit anyone this time; there weren’t that many people around at the moment.
“How on Earth did you do that!?” Daniel asked.
“Maybe it has something to do with the fact that we’re not on Earth?” Benny said sarcastically.
Daniel turned to Elmot for answers.
“I can transfer some of my mana to Benny,” he explained, “letting him use simple magic, even though he wouldn’t be able to do it on his own.”
“It’s incredible,” David commented. “Anyone can do it really, all it takes is practice.”
“How about you give it a try without my help,” Elmot suggested.
“I can do that?” Benny asked.
“Mana capacity is built up through study and practice,” Elmot explained. “No one I know of has ever started practicing magic without any mana pool at all, so I’m curious to see what you can do on your own now that you’ve had some lessons.”
“Guess I’ll give it a shot,” Benny shrugged.
He reached towards the rocks again, but nothing happened. A couple faint magic particles appeared, but they faded quickly. The rock might have twitched a bit, but it was hard to tell.
“Interesting…” Elmot said. He reached down and picked up a blade of grass. “Try this instead.”
Benny’s face filled with concentration. Again, faint particles manifested around his hand. The blade of grass hovered over Elmot’s palm and moved around slightly. Suddenly, it fell to the ground and Benny bent over with his hands on his knees, apparently tired from the effort.
“Pheew,” he said. “That took a lot outta me.”
“To lift a blade of grass?” Daniel taunted with a smirk.
“Ha-ha, very funny,” Benny countered. “Is this what mana exhaustion feels like?”
“Yes,” Elmot answered. He reached in his pocket and pulled out a Hershey's chocolate bar. “Here, eat this. I’ve found that choc-o-late helps me recover after performing magic. And it is a pleasing snack.”
Benny took the chocolate bar and wolfed it down. The four of them continued talking about magic and customary American confectionaries. Daniel was glad to have the down time. And he was glad he wasn’t part of the peace talks. He’d take being a simple soldier over being the one to make big decisions any day.
Author’s Note: Sorry for the long wait, but I’m back! A lot is going to happen in the next few chapters. I wonder what Prince Cevlion is up to… Stay tuned!