It had taken the Protectorate nearly four days to reach Bermuda, the floating island was many things, but fast was not one of them. On the other side each Protector Lord would have a modest area, typically a good chunk of a continent, that they were responsible for. But it wasn’t anything written in stone, they spread out because it was the best way to ensure that at least one Protector Lord was ready to respond to any beast rift. Able to detect incoming rifts up to a week ahead of time and from nearly a thousand miles away allowed even the slow-moving Protectorates to be ready for most rifts.
On this side, with less than half the detection range and being the only Protectorate Orlan largely had to guess as to where the hotspots were and hope he was close enough to respond. Even during the four day transit another rift had been detected in northern Asia. Thankfully with so few people in the area casualties were low and it was likely the beasts would die either die or down-tier from the low mana levels before they could reach any major cities. Still, it annoyed him at how limited he was on this side. Even the four day trip to Bermuda had strained the mana stores of his Protectorate, leaving him with less than a third of the pool left. Thankfully, as the current grandmaster had predicted, there was a powerful mana geyser off the coast of the island, easily able to support and refill Orlan’s mana.
The mages predicted they had, at most, two days before the rift hit, and Orlan found himself waiting on a soccer field where his cutter had landed near the center of the island, one of the few places they could land without disrupting anything.
“There’s a lot of people here, for such a small island,” Lailra noted, watching the traffic passing on a nearby highway, most of which was slowing down to look at the sky cutter.
“Bermuda has a population of 63,500,” Nallia added, tapping at the cell phone, “its owned by either the ‘British Empire’ or the ‘United Kingdoms,’ there seems to be some conflicting information on that.”
“They’re the same thing,” Orlan explained, “not sure of the history but the British Empire was the old name and the United Kingdoms is the new one… I think.”
“That’s the nation that rules the Aurthurian Isles, right?” asked Lailra.
“It’s called the British Isles on this side, but yes,” Orlan nodded, “Also it’s more intact than on the other side.”
“I still don’t get how there are so many shared myths and legends between the two sides,” Lailra said, turning towards the parking lot where a handful of cars were pulling in, including several police cars, “there are records of people traveling between the sides, like you did, but it’s not common. Not enough to explain the similarities in any case.”
“It’s possible for seers to peer into this world from the other side,” Orlan pointed out, “that’s how we knew rifts had started appearing on this side.”
“Even if that was common enough to transfer knowledge, culture and myth across, that would only explain it going one way,” Lailra countered, “the similarities are enough that it has to be both ways.”
“Unconscious sight,” Nallia said suddenly, “even unawakened people can catch glimpses of distant locations or events through dreams. Perhaps that can extend between sides of the world as well.”
“It would explain how some stories are similar, but different,” Lailra admitted, cocking her head in thought, “but, from what I understand, unconscious sight is… less than well understood.”
Orlan simply shrugged as the group of people emerging from the cars began to approach them. The man in the lead wore a partly unbuttoned short sleeve top and khaki shorts, revealing a good portion of swarthy skin despite his age. But given the temperature and humidity Orlan didn’t really blame the old man, of the approaching party only the police had long pants on and, judging by the sweat soaking through their uniform tops, they’d prefer to be wearing shorts as well.
While Orlan wore his typical dark tunic and trousers, his ascended body keeping him comfortable despite the heat, both Nallia and Lailra wore lighter dresses than their usual. By the standards of the other side their outfits would be outright scandalous in public, but compared to what they’d seen people walking the streets wearing on the island they were downright conservative.
“Not often we get magic men landing in the school soccer field,” the older man, who seemed to be in charge, remarked as his group approached Orlan’s, “though I should say the British Government told us to apprehend you for extradition to the US ‘if the opportunity presented itself.’ After looking at what you’re capable of, I figure all we can do is ask if you want to turn yourself in.”
“I’ll pass,” Orlan said dryly.
“Whelp, I’ve done all I can,” the old man shrugged, “I’m Scott Lalgie, current governor of this fair island. How can I help you?”
“You not concerned about my status as fugitive?”
“I’m the governor of a small island in the Atlantic,” he shrugged, gesturing to the police officers, “this is the extent of my military assets, and from what I understand guns don’t do much to you. So I figure if you’re here to take over, there isn’t much I can do.”
“I have no interest in taking anything over,” Orlan sighed, “I’m actually not allowed to own or manage lands beyond my own island.”
“And my pledge of office still requires me to swear my loyalty to the king,” Scott snorted, “guess how much power the king has.”
“I thought England had a queen?”
“She passed away a couple years back, now we have a king.”
“Oh, well, my oath is a bit more… binding. If I break it I’ll suffer significant backlash.”
“From who? The king?”
“From the magic binding me to the island.”
“So magic is real?”
“Well,” Orlan paused, turning to look north where his Protectorate hovered ten miles off the coast of the island, close to a thousand feet off the waves, before turning back to the governor, “certainly seems like it.”
“Who was it that said any sufficiently advanced technology is indistinguishable from magic?”
“Arthur C. Clark,” Nallia spoke up, earning a confused look from both Orlan and Lailra, “what? I was researching how this side thought of magic.”
“Right, well, I guess call me skeptical that you’re using magic and not some sufficiently advanced technology,” Scott offered.
“I don’t care what you call it, magic or unknown science or whatever,” Orlan sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose, “what matters is that if I break my oath I’ll be killed or crippled.”
“Great,” the governor said, “so, what can we do for you?”
“Our seers have predicted a rift will appear on or near here in the next couple days.”
“And how accurate are these seers?”
“How accurate is the weather man?” countered Orlan.
“I guess that’s fair,” the old man chuckled, “but why tell me? There’s no way we can get all 60 odd thousand people off the island in two days, even if we had somewhere to put them.”
“Part of our process on the other side was to inform local rulers of any rifts that might appear on their land,” Orlan explained, “this is so they can make any preparations they can, I’ll admit I’m not sure what you can do to get ready but you would know that better than I.”
“I’m open to suggestions.”
“There are typically three things rulers do when they hear a rift is coming, first they muster their army, militia and whatever else they can get their hands on. Second they warn the public so everyone can arm themselves if needed. And finally they attempt to evacuate anyone or anything especially important from the region.”
“As I’ve said, the extend of our military might is police officers, firearms are largely illegal here, since we follow British Law, and I’d consider everyone on the island important.”
“Then… I don’t know,” Orlan groaned, “you must have storm shelters? Anything underground to hide people in?”
“Underground shelters? On an island?”
“There’s a subway tunnel going under the English channel, surely you can have a basement on an island.”
“You’d be surprised,” Scott shrugged, “all I can really do, however, is try and spread the word without causing a panic.”
“Having any hospitals prepared for mass casualties would be good too,” Orlan offered, “we’ll do what we can to minimize damage but, well, I’m sure you’ve seen the videos of what the rift beasts can do.”
“Honestly? I’d probably have preferred it if you were here to take over,” Scott admitted after a moment.
“It’s our nature, people don’t like seeing us as it means a rift appearing, but they’re grateful we’re there when the rift appears.”
“We’ll see,” the governor replied.
\-\-\-\-\-
“That went… better than I expected,” Lailra admitted as the sky cutter flew back to the island, “then again, considering our reception back in the United States was to call us criminals and shoot at us, that’s a pretty low bar.”
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“I didn’t realize how unprepared this side would be,” Orlan admitted, “some of the major nations have their militaries ready to respond to any rift, but seems these more out of the way areas are…”
“Shockingly unarmed?” Lailra offered, “I’ll say, during the rift in Carolina I got to see how people on this side lived. Every house I’ve ever lived in on the other side had, at the very least, a flintlock by the door, if not a handful of spears as well.”
“Until recently there weren’t beast rifts on this side,” Orlan pointed out.
“There are still people, and a flintlock will put down a criminal just as fast, if not faster, than a beast,” countered Lailra, “I just don’t see there being an excuse for not having some home defense measures in place.”
“Apparently it’s a big debate on this side,” Nallia spoke up, “something called the ‘gun control debate’ in which one side thinks guns should be illegal, and the other thinks they shouldn’t.”
“What would making them illegal do? Keep the criminals from getting them? Call me skeptical that making something illegal would stop people, who are willing to break the law, from breaking the law.”
“I think their argument is that if there are no guns, then the criminals won’t be able to get them,” Nallia said, Lailra’s snort indicating what she thought of that.
“Has that lady from the International Mages… Association? Has she called again?” Orlan interrupted, changing the subject.
“She sent an email, asking how many students we wanted at once,” Nallia replied, “and asking if we can put a runway for planes to land on the island.”
“Didn’t I tell her fifty?” Orlan asked, “I’m more worried about dealing with blighted souls.”
“Apparently she’s gotten a large number of applications since the non-profit was set up, and she wants to accept more per class.”
“She already has that many applicants? Has she started advertising yet?”
“Not to my knowledge,” Nallia replied.
“Probably a bunch of operatives from various nations who got word of the organization from ‘word of mouth’ or something,” Lailra said, holding her dress down as she walked the gangway from the cutter to the docks, “ask how many of them cite military or government service in their past.”
“Close to one-hundred percent I’d imagine,” Orlan agreed, helping her off the gangway, “we’ll have to limit how many potential spies end up in the classes, I want most of each class to be civilians.”
“I imagine that anyone who takes part will be ‘taken in’ by the government for questioning on their return,” Lailra said, “any chance we can keep their identities secret?”
“I’ll ask,” Nallia replied, already typing away at the cell phone.
“All we have to do is keep training as many people to be mages as we can,” Orlan said, “eventually there will be too many for any government to keep control of.”
“You realize that will only anger them more, right?” Lailra asked.
“We’ll deal with that when it comes to that, for now, I want all the knights ready for the rift.”
\-\-\-\-\-
“Are you sure your mana type isn’t silence?” Ruby asked for the third time, causing Amy to glare at the other woman. The two of them were in the breakthrough room just off the third lance’s training field, Amy sat in the center attempting to ponder on her mana while Ruby sat off to the side, her legs folded under her like she was wearing a dress and not training leathers.
“For the last time, it isn’t,” Amy said, “and shouldn’t you be outside training or something?”
“We’re on light training in expectation of a rift,” Ruby dismissed her concerns with the wave of a hand, “not that I expect to see much fighting.”
“Aren’t you part of the third lance?” asked Amy, “which means you should be fighting, right?”
“The third lance is the training lance, typically only the strongest knights in training join the initial combat, the rest of us wait till most of the beasts are dealt with before we’re brought in to get some experience,” Ruby explained, “normally there are a lot more people in training than there are now, most of the prospective knights chose to remain behind when Orlan announced he was going to attempt to cross over to this side.”
“How many knights are there anyways? I know there’s three lances but I don’t know how big a lance is.”
“Historically, a Lance was a single knight and a handful of peasant militia from a given region,” said Ruby, “for the Protector Lords, however, a lance became a group of Protector Knights that operate as a group. Every lord is different, but Lord Orlan divided us into three, or, technically four, lances. The first lance are the strongest knights that serve as his retinue in combat, they seek out any alpha beasts and anywhere else that is considered ‘important’ to the fight.
“The second lance is the majority of the actual fighting force, while there are only ten knights in the first lance, there’s nearly twenty in the second. Their main task is containment and area control, they break into groups of two to four and spread out dealing with scattered beasts and clusters that aren’t large enough to justify the first lance’s attention.”
Amy smiled as the other woman spoke, despite her airheaded personality and silly nature, she was still a trained warrior. And the best time to see that was when she got talking about being a knight. It was just one of many strange contradictions here, her fellow knights were feminine, but spent their days training to fight. They often seemed like average, normal women, until a weapon was in their hand when they’d remind everyone of their superhuman abilities and well honed skills.
“The third lance, the training lance, is normally the largest, but also varies the most in size,” Ruby continued, leaning back against the stone wall of the room, “we can have anywhere from ten to fifty trainees, obviously right now we’re on the lower end. Since we aren’t bonded to the Lord we are often kept out of direct fighting, and when we are involved it’s in search and rescue or security more than anything. Of course, we also take part in post-battle clean up, hunting down as many remaining beasts as we can.”
“Which is how I was found,” Amy said softly, Ruby giving her an empathetic smile before continuing.
“And finally there’s the support knights, they aren’t really a lance but might as well be,” she said, “they manage the castle, equipment and everything needed to keep the rest of us combat ready. Most of our healers are support knights, along with any other non-combat people we need. But don’t think that they are helpless, while they aren’t bonded to our Lord either, a number of them are retired from being proper knights due to injury or age. The rest don’t have inherent abilities suitable for combat, and opted to avoid fighting, but many of them are still strong mages.”
“Which lance is Lady White in?”
“She’s a support knight, technically, though she spends most of her time with us in the third lance,” replied Ruby, “apparently her previous Protector Lord died while she was bonded with him, and the backlash… traumatized her. Still wanting to help, but unable to form another bond, she joined Lord Orlan as an instructor. At least, that’s what the rumors are.”
“Are bonds that dangerous?”
“Only if the Lord dies while you’re bonded,” Ruby said, “apparently those who are especially close to him can even feel when he’s attacked.”
“And… is it true that all the bonded knights are considered his wives?” Amy asked, her cheeks coloring.
“Oh? Interested in our Lord?” Ruby asked with a teasing smile, leaning forward.
“No!” Amy said, perhaps too insistently, “I’m just… I want to know what I’m getting into.”
“Right,” Ruby said with a knowing smile, “don’t worry, it’s just legal nonsense. Protector Lords can’t own land or take titles, and that extends to all his bonded knights. Unlike the Protector Lord, however, being a Protector Knight isn’t a lifelong station, we can leave his service. And when we do, we’re allowed to claim any lands or titles that should have fallen to us. Apparently, for stupid legal reasons, that’s similar to if a noble’s child was married off to another family, only to divorce and come back. They can’t inherent anything while they’re married to another family, but after separating they can again, so that was applied to Protector Knights as well,” Ruby shrugged, “I don’t understand it, but don’t worry, you don’t have to sleep with him… unless you want to.”
Amy rolled her eyes at Ruby’s teasing smile, preparing to return to her mediation when a loud bell tolled loudly enough to rattle her. Instantly Ruby was on her feet.
“Come on, that means a rift is forming!”
\-\-\-\-\-
“That’s… a big rift,” Orlan commented as the cutters raced towards the island of Bermuda. The sun was beginning to set when lighting lashed out of the clear skies to strike the ground of the small island. From there a rift had formed, starting out the normal size before quickly growing. By now it was over a hundred feet across and half again as tall.
“A great beast?” Lailra offered.
“The seers didn’t mention it was a single beast,” Nallia said.
“Given the thin aether on this side, they may not have been able to sense much from it.”
“I don’t sense any rift events elsewhere on the island,” Orlan said, due to his mana he was quite sensitive to rifts opening nearby, “I think we’re looking at a great beast. First lance engages, second is to stay back and minimize damage or use ranged attacks only.”
The other knights nodded their understand as the swirling mists of the rift suddenly collapsed, shrinking back into a single point to reveal a massive creature. It stood easily a hundred feet tall, covered in thick carapace not unlike a crustation, a similarity further solidified by the six legs that, oddly, looked like oversized crab claws. At the top of the massive pillar like body were over a dozen further limbs that resembled crab legs, each dozens of feet long. Over all it resembled a strange cross between an anemone and a crab, with an upright body, crab legs in place of the tendrils on top and crab arms for legs. At first Orlan thought it had arrived upside down, given how the legs were on top and the claws on the bottom, but as the beast began to walk, its massive claws crushing what few trees remained standing in the park where the rift formed, it was clear this was simply how it was.
As he was about to open his mouth to give more orders several of the upper limbs stretched out from the mess and, to his shock and horror, spell rings appeared around their tips.
“Fuck, go!” Orlan shouted, rolling from his seat and jumping off the side of the cutter, still two hundred feet from the ground. One of the spells was aimed directly at the cutter, and they couldn’t afford to lose it. Most of the other knights of the first lance joined him in jumping from the ship, all those who had the ability to control their fall in any case, while the rest began firing off spells in an attempt to disrupt the beast from casting.
Orlan ran as fast as he could, stepping through rifts and summoning shields beneath his feet so he could take another step. His spear appeared in his hands in a flash, eagerly emerging from his personal space almost without him needing to open it. Bolts of fire, clusters of icicles and other spells shot past him to explode on the carapace of the beast. As he took a last step, slashing his spear through the still forming spell circles of the monster, the tip of the weapon flaring with dark flames as he triggered his void strike innate ability.
While the spear itself had little effect on the mana within the half-cast spell, the void mana tore at it, disrupting the spell and causing an explosion of wind and lightning. Orlan was sent flying away from the beast for a few seconds before he could get his bearings and form another platform to step off of. The spell had only been third tier, and it seemed the beast as also only third tier, but beasts this large often broke the rules a bit due to their sheer size.
The world itself seemed to shudder as the massive beast let out a loud groan, dirt on the ground dancing under the force and all the sounds of battle being momentarily drowned out. Despite all the mid-tier spells striking it minimal damage had been dealt, no matter how high the mana density it was like throwing pebbles at a full-grown man, it would hurt but the damage they could do was minimal.
“I’m starting a scan,” Nallia’s voice said in his mind. With a glance Orlan saw that the first cutter had landed and Nallia was standing in an open area with a clear line of sight to the beast, a five ring spell appearing before her.
“I’m covering,” Alia added, a barrier of wind springing up around Nallia, just in time for a bolt of lightning from one of the beast’s spells to strike it and be forcefully bent around the barrier to strike the ground.
“It’s only casting tier three magic,” Lailra said over the link, “looks like wind and storm related spells.”
Orlan took in all the information as he shot back in, still a hundred feet in the air. One of the leg like upper limbs lashed out at him, the tip of it taller than he was, but he managed to rift step through the attack and drive his spear into one of the joints. The limb flinched back in pain, the carapace pinning the spear in the joint, but Orlan didn’t care, pulling himself up to put his feet against the limb and push off as he released the weapon, vanishing as he rift stepped. Reappearing twenty feet away, his spear suddenly in his hands again, he struck at the main body of the creature, the spear tip shrouded in void mana.
While the spear penetrated nearly six inches, when he pulled it back there was no blood, meaning he hadn’t fully pierced the carapace. Grunting, he once again rift stepped away as one of the beast’s limbs slammed into itself where he’d stabbed it.
Grinding his teeth he realized this was going to be a hard fight, even with the beast being two tiers below him.