“Did you hear me? I am not a soldier!” Sam ran after the fleet footed dwarf General and his overtly cautious Officer as he struggled to pull his arm through a starched noir military vest.

They’d walked out of the room as fast as they came in, left him with nothing but their colours and camo to cover his modest family jewels and said but a word all the way down three deserted corridors of similar interrogation rooms, though all were empty. The corridor walls were a cold, sterile white, lit by harsh fluorescent lights that buzzed faintly, casting sharp shadows on the tile floors. The air smelled faintly of antiseptic and metal, adding to the clinical, unwelcoming atmosphere.

Sam got the vest on and buttoned up the flak camo that sank excessive lengths of clothe at his ankles. He was still barefooted with the boots they’d arranged hung by their laces around his neck, but he wasn’t too keen on gearing up for war so he swallowed his ick for cold unfamiliar tiles and chased.

“I’m not a soldier. I’m not a hero. What I did with the Jaguar… that was survival, pure instinct. You don’t really expect me to face more of those monsters, do you? I’m just a guy trying to make it through the day” The ridiculous General Sir actually chuckled, sinking Sam’s stomach of dread even further. “Stop!”

Sam stopped chasing after the two and to his surprise they actually stopped as well, turned and waited. He gulped and put his words together, “I am not signing up for war. I am not a fighter, I’m a civilian and I want to go home. I have a cat, I’m the only one she’s got looking out for her and she’s locked in right now and…let me go, please.”

General Sir narrowed his gaze at Sam as he rolled his shoulders, there was some commotion of machinery and heavy work at the end of the lonesome corridors but Sam heard the man speak as clear as he would if he stood right next to him, “I know exactly what you are, courier, Regalia Wielder aren’t you? I think you have the right to know what that means before you risk finding out the hard way.”

Sam breathed deep. The Officer and General Sir waited on his choice. Finding out the hard way might already be off the board but Sam hadn’t the slightest clue how bad things could get. The last thing he expected on a delivery was to run into a fireball flinging Jaguar but it happened and he survived thanks to these people.

Let’s hear them out…even though they stripped and bound me to a fucking gurney.

He exhaled and took a step forward, all the sign General Sir needed to spin on his heel and continue his power walk down the noisy hallway. It was much like the previous one except there were trays and trolleys of food, cutlery and such perched beside the doors of the long, wide transparent windowed rooms filled with men in lab coats.

The labs were filled with advanced equipment: beakers and tubes containing bubbling liquids, computers displaying complex data, and strange devices emitting soft hums and glows. The air was a mix of chemical scents and ozone.

In one of the lab rooms, Sam caught a glimpse of two scientists carefully hoisting a smoking multi-coloured rock no larger than a tennis ball. They slotted it down a machine and the entire room of watching scientists flinched though nothing happened.

“Those are our researchers.” The Officer unexpectedly spoke in a soft voice. Sam nodded but General Sir snickered.

“Weapon makers, strategists, survivalists—call them what you will. These people are the thin line between us and the end. And you, courier, are about to join that line.”

Sam raised a brow at this and the Officer rolled her eyes at the stout man’s exuberant honesty, “They do more than that, some of them find insights to the enemy’s weaknesses, likely evolution route and even some historical context.”

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Sam blinked, “Historical context? This has happened before? Is that how you know of Regalia Wielders?”

General Sir spoke, loud and commanding over the exciting thrums of advanced machines in the roomed past them, “The Doom Suppression Force has gone by many names, courier, this will be the third time it operates in public. At least, in remembered history.”

Remembered history?

“The first was during the crusades, an abstract time with few true moral guides by our now sophisticated standards but a time when the lust for power, control and uniformity was so great. The second was during the world wars, of course, but I was there and from what my ancestors documented in their crusading texts I’d say it was quite tame.”

“And, I’m guessing this will be the third time.” Sam said, eyes stealing glances at more scientists though these ones worked in hazmat suits and were dying Kevlar in a vat of boiling fluid.

“Correct! And the third time’s come right before I croak. I have always wished to witness all thirteen Towers of Regalia.” He said with a grin and pep to his step as he led us into an elevator.

Sam thought in the semi-silence of the elevator for a moment, nothing but soft transition music playing to keep his boggled mind busy except it didn’t, “You said you were there, during the wars. That’s recent history, no one talks about Regalia when they talk about the wars and how in hell was that tame?”

It was the Officer that explained, “General Sir experienced the first recorded artificial ignition of the Towers. Three were lured from the surface using…you wouldn’t get it if I explained but, three towers were contested in the skies before we brought them down, buried them back where they’ve sprouted again.”

The General gave a satisfied nod, “For emphasis, we, the DSF, brought down those three towers from the sky. If it were anything like the crusades, then Regalia wielders would have been chosen but none were and so all that bloodshed and loss was for naught. Well, we at least got a head start preparing for the day all thirteen would hang in the sky and here we are.”

The elevator dinged open to an office space bustling with activity. The office was a hive of activity, with rows of desks covered in paperwork, maps pinned to walls, and computer screens flickering with data. The air buzzed with the sounds of phones ringing, keyboards clacking, and the constant murmur of urgent conversations.

The men and women working here were uniformed in the same noir outfit Sam had on, though unlike him all had their boots on and were carrying active arms.

General Sir continued speed walking, acknowledging the salutes with brisk nods and occasional salutes of his own. The office space had many eyes but not many corners to hide behind, Sam felt them staring, muttering and whispering behind his back and right in his face. Some looked at him in awe, as if an ostrich had just walked in and they’re shocked at its size and colours. Others regarded him with suspicion and made a number of attempts to communicate with the Officer escorting them.

A small subset actually offered a welcoming smile but it was a fleeting moment of attention as they threw themselves back to work. Passing files and speaking into ringing phones.

As General Sir led Sam into what must be his office at the end of the space, he shut all the blinds and blasted some music.

Given the man’s size Sam would think his office would be less cluttered or have more space to go around but asides from the two chairs situated in front of a desk, everything was a mess of pictures of Towers from all over the world and items that looked like they’d been dug up from ruins. Shelves were crammed with ancient books, strange artefacts, and framed maps marked with notes and dates.

Sam understood and appreciated well enough but still hungered for answers, “What are the towers? What are Regalia wielders?”

The stout man sat and crossed his fingers, “The Towers? They’re trials. That’s what the ancient texts call them, challenges sent by…something. Each one brings devastation, and only Regalia Wielders—people like you—have the power to stop them. The thing is, this power comes with a cost, and it’s not just your safety on the line.”

He snapped his neck for a string of cracks and pops, let out a cool sigh and shrugged, “With our track record I’m hoping the advanced technology will help us triumph over them regardless, but you’ve already displayed what a Regalia wielder can do, it wouldn’t hurt to have one on our side.”

Before Sam could digest or say anything the man leaned out of his seat to the side of his desk, keyed in a code to unlock a safe and returned upright with Sam’s phone in his hand.

Sam leapt out of his seat to snatch it but General Sir was too prepared, smirking already even with a wagging finger, “Be patient, courier.” Despite that he handed Sam the now severely cracked phone and ordered, “I want you to read out every last detail you see on that phone when you turn it on, everything.”