Eddling, Eanif Imperium
July 28, 2019
“Wow, that was pretty damn good for a place without the luxuries of modern culinary tech. Honestly, this stuff’s probably better than the stuff Gordon Ramsay gave us back when he was on the base!” Jones exclaimed. “Wait, isn’t he coming back soon for more testing? Aw hell, don’t tell him I said that.”
Ambassador Perry and the rest of Alpha Team laughed.
Henry took a deep breath. “Damn, I’m full.” He reached into a bag and produced two gold coins. Raising his hand, he called over the elegantly-mustached waiter from earlier.
The waiter accepted the money. “Please wait, I will return with your change.”
In a minute, he returned with 24 silver coins for change, as the bill was valued at 76 silver coins. “Thank you for allowing us to serve you. Please return, and do inform your friends of the exquisite tastes we have here at Tabal’s!” He waved them goodbye.
Alpha Team exited the restaurant and emerged onto quite the scene: a group of Eanish musketmen were harassing a young cat lady. They blocked her path, asking her for identification and anything else they could possibly use in order to arrest her. They made her drop the food items she bought in order to ‘inspect’ them and taunted her. Despite this, the lady remained polite, fearful for any backlash that may occur.
“Alright. That’s enough,” Henry walked up to the Eanish soldiers.
One of the soldiers analyzed Henry and his companions. “You must not be familiar with the way we do things around here… You’d best watch your tone, traveler.”
“Only when you stop being a fucking dickhead,” Henry retorted, his hand near his holster.
The tension built up as the two men stared each other down. Fortunately, an incident was avoided as an Eanish local walked up to defuse the standoff. “Ahem, might I ask what is going on here?”
The soldier took his eyes off Henry, ready to berate the man who asked the question for interfering with his business. He looked up at the man and immediately dismissed any previous thoughts of displaying arrogance. “My apologies, my lord. I was simply… welcoming these travelers to our town,” he replied, bowing to hide his embarrassment and nervousness.
“Hmm… Very well then. I shall take it from here.”
The soldier and his comrades turned around, returning to their patrol.
“And rifleman, try not to be so hostile when welcoming newcomers. I want this city to be different from the rest of the Imperium.”
The soldier nodded and left.
The man then turned his attention toward the travelers. “I do apologize for the misconduct of my soldiers. Some of them have recently arrived from the northern cities and know nothing of my policies here… Thank you for standing up for Lena here, I would’ve hated to see her get hurt…”
Lena gathered her groceries and dusted her dress as she walked toward the well-dressed man. In contrast to other wealthy Eanish, this man wore an outfit that was much more visually appealing, and could even be compared to stylish Victorian-era clothing.
“Who are you?” Henry asked.
“I am the Joc Formal, Duke of Eddling. Can you tell me about yourselves?”
Henry looked at Ambassador Perry, who stepped forward and responded. “I am Ambassador John Perry, from the United States of America.”
“Ah, the nation from beyond the Grenden Portal? The one that forced the Nobian Empire to capitulate in mere weeks?”
Perry nodded. “Yep. We made contact with the Eanif Imperium some time ago, and we have our first meeting scheduled within a few days. The party behind me is escorting me to Eana.”
Alpha Team introduced themselves.
“Interesting. I certainly would love to know more about your people. Perhaps once you’ve finished with your meetings?”
Ambassador Perry shrugged. “Sure,” he said, thinking that this would be a good opportunity to learn more about the Eanif Imperium.
“Excellent. Take these emblems; they represent House Formal. It is the least I can do after your honorable display earlier.” Duke Formal produced several items from his pocket, bearing the lion-like insignia of House Formal, then bade goodbye to the travelers.
Perry and Alpha Team returned to their inn, where they discussed the strangely kind behavior of Duke Formal. They were especially confused about the Duke’s contrasting attitude toward beastpeople: while the soldiers earlier seemed to despise beastpeople, the Duke seemed much more kind. Perhaps he secretly supported the Abolitionists? Henry made a mental note to inform Agent Valjean of this peculiarity.
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——
Eana, Eanif Imperium
Agent Valjean adjusted his earpiece, making sure it couldn’t be seen. “Testing… Do you read me?”
“Loud and clear, Overseer.” A gruff voice responded.
Several other voices of confirmation joined the network.
“Perfect,” he said as he entered the Imperial Library. “See anything, Raven?”
“No, sir,” Raven responded. “Looks like the emperor just left,” he said, analyzing live thermal footage from a drone.
“Good. Keep me posted.”
“Copy,” Raven replied as he maneuvered the near-silent drone over to one of the other sections of the Imperial Palace, providing assistance to another operative.
The library was cavernous; shelves were stacked to the palace’s ceiling with various books. Artwork decorated the walls, leaving almost nothing bare, and the walls that were bare seemed to be made of pure gold. He walked in slowly, memorizing the layout of the area and admiring the overall architecture and design of the library.
He reached into his coat and pulled out a small drone, about the size of a bird. Using a phone to control it, he sent it to the roof and snapped an aerial view of the entire library. In the center was a grand desk, surrounded by pedestals which each contained a mysterious relic. Valjean walked toward this central area to investigate.
Valjean pulled a small camera out of his coat and began taking photos of the various relics around the library center. One of these relics appeared to be a magical television, which resembled an orb more than it did a television set. Beside it, several documents were piled up. Valjean flipped through the documents carefully, remembering the position of the items. The documents appeared to be reports from Eanish spies throughout the Sonaran Federation and the Nobian Empire.
The documents mostly covered information on the United States. Although some details about certain military assets such as tanks were listed, the reports only provided a general description. Certain phrases were circled with ink and annotated: ideas were noted down regarding the potential weaknesses of American military units. For example, a description of American tank treads was circled and a comment was written on the margins of the paper, suggesting to use basilisks burrowed in the ground, acting as biological landmines in order to disable the treads.
Another report discussed American fears against the Nobian Empire and other enemies, such as the Hydra. Descriptions of guided long-range magical spells matched up with American use of missiles and artillery. An important side note was circled several times along the margin, warning against fighting the silver arrowheads. The slower flying machines though, were likely vulnerable to the Imperium’s wyvern and dragon forces.
However, with these inferences having only a few sources as reference, the report emphasized the Eanish lack of knowledge. The Battle of Fort Grenden and the annihilation of the Bractin Gang presented little information. In the first case, low visibility during the night and the sheer amount of chaos prevented Eanish agents from reporting accurate information; the only reliable information was a shoddy video taken of the engagement. In the second case, the Eanish spy sent to infiltrate and influence the Bractin Gang succumbed to madness, committing suicide after witnessing so-called demonic power. Fire falling from the sky like a directed volcano seemed more like the delusions of a madman indeed.
Valjean carefully took pictures of all the documents, making sure that they were returned to the same position as before. He then looked at the magical television set. Several buttons were laid out across the device’s stand.
“Hmm…” Valjean weighed the potential benefits of being able to access the device’s data compared to the consequences. For all he knew, the television orb could shatter if he pressed a wrong button. “Eh, fuck it.”
He pressed a button with a plain circle on it. The magic television responded, flickering on and displaying a video — one that the previous user had watched. The video shown here was one taken in Felomia, when Eanish beast tamers were sent to take control of the Hydra. At the start of the video, Master Tamer Kor could be seen activating spells around the Hydra, skillfully dodging its attacks while his men tried to distract it with offensive magic and musket fire. Eventually, Kor faltered and seemed to be on his last legs, on the verge of being eaten or crushed by the Hydra. As if blessed with luck, an immobilizing bolt of lightning shot out from behind the camera, striking the Hydra and paralyzing it. The Hydra was successfully restrained, much to the relief of the Eanish beast tamers. Their luck ended there, however, as their hard work went into the complete annihilation of the Hydra rather than its taming. American jets flew overhead, pounding the Hydra with their bombs and missiles. A short moment of respite followed; the dust settled and visible scars could be seen along the Hydra’s body. Chunks of charred meat dropped to the ground, the Hydra roaring in pain. This brief pause abruptly ended with the arrival of two AC-130 gunships, which completely leveled the building-size monster, leaving nothing but gore and pulverized soil.
The video then ended, and Valjean pressed the circular button again, turning the machine off. He then moved on toward the other relics. Some resembled pieces of armor, with helmets and breastplates mounted upon the pedestals. The documentation placed beside these artifacts identified them as legendary pieces of equipment, able to deflect musket fire without leaving a scratch. Valjean noted this; any adversary equipped with such armor may essentially be bulletproof, considering the document descriptions.
The rest of the pedestal artifacts were small sculptures of creatures and symbols, likely of historical significance. One of the pedestals was empty; the small sculpture was instead on the grand desk. After snapping photos of the other relics and their accompanying documentation, he moved to the desk. He analyzed the small sculpture, which was identified as a “wasteland hound”. Sheets of paper with several scribbles on them were littered next to the sculpture. The scribbles had little flow, and seemed more like ideas. One, however, caught his attention: the biological characteristics of these hounds and their potential impact. Wasteland hound meat was apparently a valuable component of the best potions, able to provide numerous types of benefits to the consumer, such as enhanced strength, improved magic prowess, and greater resilience. A second section on the scribbles theorized the utilization of wasteland hounds as weapons. Valjean looked back at the small figurine.
“Tsk…” he shook his head in disgust.
The hounds looked truly alien, even resembling characteristics of the most feared biological foes in science fiction. Valjean hoped that the hounds were only similar to xenomorphs, Zerg, and Tyranids with regards to appearance. If they were as vicious as any of these biological terrors, the United States — no… Earth would have a difficult time fending these creatures off. The fact that this world hasn’t been overrun yet was a satisfying reassurance, but why?
Valjean picked up the hound documentation again, reviewing the provided context. These creatures are theorized to originate from yet another world, perhaps another realm of existence. Likened to demons, they terrorized the once-fertile area known as the “Wastelands”, slaughtering its inhabitants without difficulty and of course, without mercy. Entire armies fell to the creatures without injuring even a single one. The saving grace of the then Eanif Kingdom was that these hounds seemed to be confined within a specific radius of some strange spire.
He went back to reading the various scribbles. Several listed items were crossed out, denoting the failed attempts to tame the wasteland hounds, but one wasn’t. At the bottom of the list, this item seemed fresh; the ink was still wet. Likely the observations of Emperor Evalion, this final listed item described an optimistic outlook for the most recent set of experiments, dubbed the Unborn Project. Valjean shivered at the thought of hordes of these hounds assaulting the Grenden Portal.
After taking photos, he set the hound-related documents aside and analyzed the note on the center of the desk. He approached it and read it. It was a letter addressed to High General Tarkin.
“High General, this man from Earth that you’ve sent me has been quite useful thus far, although I am wary of any hidden intentions he might have. He says he is only helping us because of our plans to initiate hostilities against the United States, only hoping to see damage inflicted upon these Americans. Regardless, the information he has provided is valuable and is certainly supported by reports from our spies throughout the continent. I recall you back to the Capital to redraft our war plans…”
The crackling of radio static in Valjean’s ear nearly caused him to jump. “Contact approaching, 30 meters out!” Raven warned. “20 meters now!”
Whoever this contact was must be running. Valjean was faced with a split-second decision: should he try to snap a photo and risk getting caught, or slip away and have a much higher chance of escaping? He decided on the latter and dashed behind several shelves just as he heard a door open.
——
Emperor Vox Evalion ran into the library, speedily dashing toward his desk with the aid of a spell that augmented his movement. He scanned his surroundings, suspiciously eyeing the pedestals around his desk. He then brought his gaze upon the items in this desk. The quill he had left on top of his paper earlier was now moved to the side.
“Hmm…” he looked around once more.