Approaching Mirra, Lorian couldn't help but be astonished by the strange metal vehicles that moved with an almost magical fluidity. The sight of the large wheeled machines, along with the Beastkin warriors distributing rations to his people, was nothing short of extraordinary. He received his own ration as he walked alongside Staff Sergeant Redus Wellknife, his gaze lingering on the mysterious containers. The smooth, leather-like bags were unlike anything Lorian had seen before, sleek and efficient. As the other Elves cautiously opened their rations, their expressions quickly shifted from skepticism to surprise.

Lorian hesitated as he watched a nearby Beastkin soldier open his package. The clear bag contained a metal-like square, as well as other small items. The soldier carefully slid the ration into the clear bag, propped it on a rock, and poured water inside. In mere moments, steam began to rise, a faint hiss filling the air. The sight left Lorian both puzzled and intrigued. How could mere water create such heat?

The soldier waited a moment, then drained the water, pulling out a warm, steaming meal from the bag. The smell was intoxicating, wafting through the camp. Following suit, Lorian carefully opened his own ration. The aroma hit him instantly, a blend of spices and savory meats that transported him back to the grand halls of the Elven royal palace, where banquets were once a common luxury. His eyes widened in disbelief as he took a bite.

The taste—delectable and rich—was unlike anything he had expected. Tears welled in his eyes as the memories of his homeland’s grand feasts overwhelmed him. He looked to Wellknife, still bewildered by the simple magic of it all.

"What... is this?" Lorian asked, voice thick with emotion. "This... food—it’s incredible. How is it prepared so quickly?"

Wellknife chuckled, setting down his own ration. "We call it an MRE—Meal, Ready-to-Eat. Convenient, right? It keeps well in the field and can be prepared with just water."

Lorian blinked, trying to process the explanation. The implications of such a simple, portable meal were profound. An army fed with such provisions—efficient, nourishing, and easy to transport—was an unstoppable force.

After a long silence, Lorian summoned the courage to ask the question that had been nagging at him since their arrival. "Why are you here, Beastkin warriors? We’ve heard stories—ancient rumors of your strength. Are you here to reclaim your lands from the humans?"

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Wellknife paused, his expression guarded but polite. He took a sip of water before replying, choosing his words carefully. "Our mission is classified. But if it brings you any comfort, we’re not here just for some simple land dispute. Our purpose is much larger than that."

Lorian’s brow furrowed. "Larger? What do you mean by that?"

Wellknife only grinned, taking another bite of his ration. "You’ll understand soon enough."

Lorian was left with more questions than answers, but he could tell the Beastkin wasn’t ready to reveal the full scope of their mission just yet. His eyes wandered across the camp, taking in the full breadth of the Beastkin’s astonishing equipment.

These were not the Beastkin he had once known—enslaved, broken, defeated. Clad in their sophisticated woodland camouflage uniforms, they carried themselves with a confidence that could only come from experience and training. The metal pipes slung across their chests—M807 rifles, as he overheard them call them—were sleek and deadly-looking, nothing like the crude weapons of old.

Their uniforms—Advanced Combat Uniforms (ACUs)—were far beyond anything outside of the finest Elven tailors could craft. Every detail of their gear was precise, down to the water packs integrated into their vests, allowing the Beastkin soldiers to carry water without the need for traditional canteens. It was all so foreign to Lorian, who had never imagined the Beastkin would ever possess technology rivaling—if not surpassing—that of the Austorians.

But the greatest marvels were the vehicles. The FMTV 5-ton cargo trucks, they called them. Lorian had watched in awe as the soldiers’ unloaded crates with astonishing efficiency. The Kongsberg Remote Weapons Stations (RWS) mounted on the trucks added to their mystery, remotely controlled and bristling with firepower. The level of sophistication was beyond anything the Elves could have conceived.

One truck even carried a DAGOR Utility Task Vehicle (UTV), specially designed for a team led by a hero called Blake. The mention of Blake intrigued Lorian. He had heard whispers of this "Hero" from the Beastkin soldiers and from the Elven Royal Court, though the details remained elusive.

As Lorian passed a set of infantry support vehicles, his breath caught. The KMW Fennik and Boxer APC both carried 30mm cannons and machine guns that could decimate any force in their way. He marveled at the scale of the Beastkin’s transformation—from a slave race to a technologically advanced military power.

Shaking his head, Lorian called out to Wellknife and Lt. Tarfire. "I must tell you my story. You’ve shared much with me already, and it’s time I share in return."

Tarfire and Wellknife exchanged glances before walking over, ready to hear what the Elf had to say.