Chapter 15

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Trading City of Vicenzo

7:32 AM

The sun’s rays felt colder than normal. The remnants of the rising smoke blocked it slightly, and the cooling dew of the morning helped lower the temperatures further. Still, he felt even colder than that as he heard approaching footsteps and an irritable voice.

“Interpreter! What is the situation?”

What the hell do you think?!

The burnt trees, and ashen buildings around them answered what the situation was. The black marks on the ground where the remains of human bodies had been before the locals picked them up like timber and took them away still remained. There were bits of charred flesh on the pavement not far from where he stood, but only those who had been there since the previous night knew what those charred malformed pieces were. Men were still clearing out the rubble of the buildings that had been purposefully collapsed, none speaking except for the necessity.

It was the sole reason the fire had not spread further. The tiny miracle that had allowed more to survive. Or perhaps curse if the firebombing was attempted again.

And yet she had to ask him to see that?

Dennis stood in the middle of an open area near where the fire had finally died, adjusting his gear after not getting a wink of sleep when the red-headed young “princess” spotted him and decided it was time to start to ask her questions.

Her very frustrating questions.

Still, he forced himself to remain professional.

“Not good, highness. We estimated there were over thirty injured. A dozen dead that we have confirmed.”

She looked around, hands on hips. She was clean. Her checkered tunic was without a spot of ash or dirt. Her gaze seemed confused as she surveyed their surroundings. The area had been some kind of park or plaza where people could gather. Now it was almost all gone. Most plants had been devoured away by the flames, the grass charred, and any wooden structure burnt to ash. Yet the eyes of the young woman seemed almost-

Suddenly, and with what sounded almost boastful, she loudly proclaimed “This plaza was built during the Age of Silence! How dare those cowards bring it to torch?!”

Oh is that all you care about?!

She continued with a dramatic, “I assure you that this transgression shall not go unpunished, people of Vicenzo!”

Some of the men digging through the rubble seemed to give her half-hearted praise before they continued their work. The Americans helping them appeared confused at the gesture but said nothing. A few turned to him with a questioning glance.

Dennis didn’t bother answering.

Parthea Traianus said, “Do you see us as rather barbaric?”

“No, highness.”

“Oh, out with it, you brat, anyone can see your disapproving eyes even if you try to avert your gaze.”

What do you care?

Dennis felt his jaw clench but did not affirm her suspicions. Instead, he stood up as Rhodes stepped away from Sean and Alex. Legate Marcius nodded along as Sean translated and Rhodes moved towards them as Alex relayed something.

“Listen, highness. My opinions are irrelevant to the situation at hand. I have a job to do and that is what I will do. Voicing my thoughts or opinions does not help us at all.”

“I suppose. However, if we wish to open talks and peace, some level of understanding is not a terrible thing, is it?”

“And you can get those from my commanding officers.”

The woman gave him a strange look.

Rhodes said, “Orville, does the princess have anything to report?”

He turned to Parthea and asked, “Do you have something to tell us?”

Her uncertain expression shifted as she looked at the burnt trees.

Finally, she asked “I… I suppose I wish to say that we are grateful for the help with the civilians, even if we are enemies.”

Dennis translated, not bothering to dwell on the words.

Rhodes tipped his helmet, then said “Thorne’s guys say they’re seeing some movement near the southern wall. Might be scouts. Might be something else.”

Dennis stiffened at the information.

“What?” Parthea asked.

“Octavius and his men were moving around the southern area of the city, maybe scouting ahead for an attack.”

At that, Parthea’s eyes went wide.

“Of course. The fire would have distracted the men on the walls! He would use it to attack the city directly with his infantry! I… we must start to rally the men.” she spoke quickly.

Rhodes said, “Tell her we have some more guys coming through soon. Couple of meat choppers. Should do the job okay.”

Dennis didn’t like how Rhodes finished that sentence, but he didn’t comment on it.

Imperial Capital

It had been a short war.

Yet the sun still burnt at his shaved scalp. His horse huffed and he pitied the poor stead as its hooves shifted on the burning dust beneath them.

The meeting place was under a few trees, which was fair enough. Still, he wondered how these people lived in such a desolate region of the world. He and his men moved up the hill once they saw the tree. The sun was at its highest there, but he forced himself not to appear weak as they got to the meeting location.

There stood various men. Their only weapons were old, rusty blades. All were sheathed. All were well out of reach as they lay against the tree. The shade was blissfully cooling as they got under it and surrounded the men. There was no reaction as they did so.

“Prince Adrian?” the man with a large, black beard spoke first after a moment.

One of his guards reached for a sword, but he stayed the man’s hands.

“Prince Musa of Murs… you act as though we are equals even now?”

The man’s mouth opened slightly but then closed. He turned away. Above them, the sun continued to burn and heat the earth.

“So, you requested this meeting, Prince of Murs. Are you going to act like a dog now and remain silent?”

Musa said, “We did not start this war!”

“Ah, of course not. But you attacked the Seljuk Tribe. After we had warned your people that an attack on them would also be an attack on Iberia.”

“They are cursed felines that-”

“Oh, can we stop with the talk of superiority? You sit in the sand, I ride on a steed. Your blades are rusted and dull, mine could cut this tree which shelters you now if I so wished. Our wyvern riders rule the skies. Our mages burn your cities to ashes, poison your wells, and destroy your crops. Your land will be no more use than ash after a fire.”

“If we surrender…”

This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

“If? What is this talk of if?”

Musa said “Will your mages help us heal the land if-”

“No. No, the land of Murs will be left to heal for itself. We will not waste more resources on it.” he had concluded, punctuating his final point by spitting on the sand beneath them.

“Then you will gain nothing from this!”

“Nothing?” he laughed, “We have destroyed an enemy of ours, have we not? My spies may not be perfect, but they did notice how your father was amassing troops on our borders. After all the help we brought to beat back the beast men? Was coexistence not enough for your people?”

“That was over a century ago!”

“So?”

The prince fell silent at his retort.

He’d huffed, then motioned to his guard. The man approached him and from one of the bags carried by his steed, he handed him a parchment.

“My father proposes the following solution. Your people may come to Iberia as slaves. The Seljuk tribe keeps your land and manages whoever chooses to stay.”

“What?!”

“It is the only way your bloodline will go on, Prince of Murs.”

The guards the prince stood with appeared almost too tired to care, but they did reach for their blades. It had been subtle, of course. A shift closer, a twitch of a hand or two.

Musa had realized it too late.

“Stop! You fools!”

The men’s throats were slit from side to side by what to them had been an invisible force. To him, however, the Seljuk tribe would not hide itself.

Seljuk himself, younger and smaller than those with him, had placed himself so he’d been standing behind Musa the entire time. His feline ears exposed, unlike his comrades who all wore hoods that hid them. But that was not why they went unseen. He had shuddered then at the possibilities of such an organization working for them. But now?

He grinned from ear to ear.

“Such is the downfall of so many. You see the demihumans as the inferior beings they are, but ignore the tools that they can bring to war.”

Musa swallowed.

“Well, prince, you have your choice. What will it be?”

Emperor Adrian Sol Traianus woke up with a pleasant smile on his lips. He sat up slowly, savoring the memory. His first real victory in the field of battle had been so long ago yet still felt so fresh in his tired mind. The smile only grew as the doors to his room opened and in walked his chef.

“Your breakfast, my emperor.”

Chef Clef placed the hot meal by his bed, the man smiling warmly at him.

It was a pleasant morning routine. Nothing more.

Such glory had not truly been all he’d wanted. The battles had been won too easily. Less like crushing a true enemy and more like quashing a bug. His father had gained the glory, of course. He’d shared in it, yes, but the victory was ultimately his father’s.

Hence why his son’s victory against the Lepus tribes was his victory. But that too had felt so much like a simple task that had not brought the glory of the old emperors.

Perhaps that was the one good thing of this war.

The gods must have known the management of it all had been an act worthy of great glory on its own.

The Imperial Senate stood by him, but they knew not of how far the situation had advanced. He frowned as another thought came to mind.

“Seljuk.” He called.

“Yes, majesty?” the slimy voice came from the corner of the room this time, where the sun’s light had not quite reached yet. Chef Clef almost jumped at it, but Adrian scoffed.

“The senators who are against the war. Castillo, and that coward Marcel…”

“Marcel arrived in Vicenzo recently, sir. I have a spy keeping an eye on the city.”

Chef Clef raised an eyebrow.

Adrian then asked, “How goes the destruction of Vicenzo?”

“A part of the city has burned, my lord. Warlock Augustine’s new weaponry appears to have caused quite some damage and the enemy in the mountains is struggling to push through the blockades.”

Adrian grinned slightly.

“Well, perhaps this may be easier than I thought. Have you contacted Parthea?”

“My people are searching for her, but have thus far been unsuccessful, majesty.” Seljuk spoke smoothly and without worry.

“Ah, that girl… has she appeared near Vicenzo? She might have tried something like that. Head to wherever she heard the front was.”

“My apologies, sire, but we have not seen her in the area just yet. My people shall inform me if she appears, of course.”

“Good. Dismissed.”

He went back to his breakfast without another word.

Clef asked then “Emperor, is the Seljuk tribe not everywhere?”

“Clef, being everywhere and having eyes everywhere is not the same thing.”

“But are you not worried about your daughter?”

“She can be quite dim, not unlike her mother. But I trust she is alright. The Seljuks owe us a debt and they would never lie about her if they knew.”

“True. I am glad that you are assured, my emperor. I must say, I do not know how you can trust such hideous creatures with information.”

Adrian sighed.

“Perhaps it is just experience. You were not there when we defeated the Murs and gained the Seljuks as servants. Oftentimes we overestimate our enemies, I suppose. After those two defeats in the mountains, I feared…”

He paused.

He’d feared… what?

He shook his head and continued eating.

“Nothing unhealthy about being a little cautious. Other spies tend to confirm what the Seljuk say, only their reports take longer to reach me.

“I see.”

“Yes. If the situation worsens, Anthonius is still preparing for that outcome, as are my men, but… After that news, if these invaders could not protect Vicenzo even with help from that beast Lucretius, then perhaps things are not entirely as they seem.”

Alpine Mountains

Warlock Augustine watched as his earth and fire mages prepared the new weapons in the strangest of forgeries: the middle of a small trickle of water that had pooled near some dirt. There, the dirt was easier to work with now that it had mixed into a fine mud, and the water mages and earth mages molded it and hardened it into clay jars before pouring in the elixir they made from the surrounding elements. The morning was cool. There was a calmness in the dim, blue light and occasional singing bird.

For once, Augustine felt newfound hope as Cassius finished telling him how Octavius had employed the new weapon.

“They performed that well even on your first flight?”

“Yes. We burnt an entire part of the city’s center with one flyover, Warlock Augustine! If we can add them to catapults, onto other weapons… I daresay, this would change the way we wage war against our usual enemies.”

“Yes, this is a very destructive substance. They are somewhat easy to produce for the moment. The trick is the igniting mechanism. The lone spark is all that is really needed, and here there are plenty of stones that can allow such a spark, but-”

They both glanced up at the sound. It echoed through the mountain peaks, and the air itself trembled as though a monstrous beast had awoken and its terrible roar could be heard for leagues and leagues. Heads darted in its direction, guards gripped onto their spears, Wyverns tensed up, and his mages paused their work as if the sound itself commanded their attention as though a god were speaking. Yet they all knew it was man-made machines that were the cause.

The American flying machines were not visible, but they could both hear the familiar sound of the strange spinning blades of their cursed flight. The sound increased for a moment, its roar a sinister growl almost. Then, little by little, grew dimmer as the unseen weapons flew away. And like that, they were gone once more, and peace returned.

“We must move swiftly. General Octavius wished for a fire mage to assist him in burning Vicenzo down?”

“Yes.”

“He will receive him. My best student has been helping us further add blockades to the west. I shall send for him and you shall take him with you.”

He grabbed one of the spherical jars and handed it to Cassius.

“If done right, you could attach them to the ends of a ballista bolt. Perhaps attach several and use them to add more fire into the city. But it would be dangerous if done wrong.”

“How many can you give us?”

“We shall give you as many as we can make. The enemy is trying to dig out the blockades, but we are stopping them with our attacks, conventional and magical. Range is the game here, so if Octavius wishes to storm the walls of Vicenzo, he must destroy those men that use… what did they call them?”

“Firearms.”

“Yes, he needs to destroy them first. Perhaps this will help even the field and score us a much-needed victory.”

Cassius smiled confidently.

Dallas, Texas

“What the hell’s the holdup?!”

“Change in priorities, the Skyraiders go through first.”

“Yeah? And the fuel they need to fly?!”

"What about the reporters? They've been waiting out here for days!"

“Look, right now we’re prioritizing the air assets. Ground troops won’t break through those mountains until they have more air support and for the time being, that's all that's going through.”

The officers did not complain, but the disappointment was visible in their eyes as they each returned to their duties. Such was the trouble of there only being one opening to the other world. It was in a city and therefore, otherworldly portal or not, it was subject to the rules of traffic of a city. Dallas, Texas had once been a hub of military transportation during the Second World War, and her streets were still built to accommodate military movements. But that still meant only one highway into this other world was available. The train track that went over the Dealy Plaza helped to an extent. And airlifted assets could be brought forward.

But it was, in the end, a city like any other, and the traffic reflected it. Even with the support of the population, the anger at the unprovoked attack, and the greatest military logistics system in the world, there were some limitations. However, there was ultimately movement.

The first group of United States Air Force A1 Skyraiders, their wings folded as they rode atop trucks that would carry them across the portal, began to arrive on the other side of this new world.

They had been too late for use in The Second World War, but they’d gained a reputation during the Korean War. A piston-engined aircraft that on the battlefield could compete with the brand new fighter jets thanks to how long they could stay up comparatively and even now it was finding some purpose where the more delicate and higher technology fighters could not perform as effectively just yet.

Jets could certainly outperform and outmatch them now, but fighting a war was less about the most promising weapon and more about the more effective weapon for the task at hand.

They went into the dark portal without any comment or objection.