0700 HOURS.
WEDNESDAY, 17 AUTUMNSUS 1411.
GLACIES, YONDEL.
Mike woke in absolute pain. The smell of blood painted his nostrils. His head throbbed with a sever migraine. Laying on the ground, the sergeant found it near impossible to move for seventeen seconds. He shifted on his side and reached his gloved hands to his forehead to nurse the pain.
Fully opening his eyes and adjusting to the unfamiliar environment he was thrown into, Mike searched the room he was in. Only a torch near a small wooden door provided any light. The darkness of the room crept at the edges of his vision disorienting him, and it took a minute for him to let any remaining shock out of his body.
Patting the ground next to him, the sergeant soon found his M-5 carbine. He let out a heavy exhale as he tried to piece together what just happened. All he could remember was walking into a white void, far-far away from the city of Peshawar. The last thing he could recall was crossing into an unknown mirage that had formed and suddenly blacking out.
Letting out a sharp groan as he used a nearby wooden box to stand up, Mike adjusted himself as he collapsed against what was a stone wall facing the doorway. It seemed he had awoken in a storage room of some old bunker or facility. The thought immediately crossed his mind that he was taken captive by the separatist forces in Pakistan. His pulse raised as he readied his weapon on the doorway ahead. His arms burned in pain as he kept the sight aligned with his eyes, but he left no room for error not wanting to risk dying so suddenly after waking up.
The sound of boots alerted the sergeant. Someone was quickly moving to his location—scratch that, two people were moving to his location.
Checking to see if he still had his sister’s pendant on his vest, Mike quickly moved to activate his augmented goggles to help him identify and prosecute whoever was about to breach into his room and prepare to fill his chest with a boat load of lead. The gentle blue HUD flashed its activation sequence as the sergeant muttered to himself hoping the process would move faster.
First his weapon display linked to the M-5. Second, all available communications channels were displayed. And finally, all friendly elements were listed including the two marked as “friendly” standing just in front of the door.
Not wanting to risk a blue-fire incident, the sergeant scrambled into cover and grasped his radio. “This is Sergeant Randall, Sierra-Bravo-Six-Seven-Three-Two-Niner in the blind! I have two friendly forces outside of my room, confirm identity and sync to heads-up-display!” His rough voice alerted the two men standing on the other side of the door. Painting the possible targets, Mike watched as the two “skeletonized” soldiers looked at each other lowering their weapons slowly and moving behind the stone walls for cover.
“Ease up sergeant!” The voice of Oliver responded over the radio. The man seemed a bit annoyed but considering the current situation it was understandable. “We are entering the room. Check your shots and put on your gas mask!”
Wanting to question why, but not finding the strength to argue against his squadron leader, Mike grumpily detached the gas mask attached to his battle belt. As Mike took off his helmet and goggles to put the respiratory device on, the wooden door swung open wide and was promptly shut as both Oliver and Anthony entered the room giving a once over making sure the immediate area was secure.
Holding his breath and closing his eyes Mike secured the gas mask over his face tightening the two lower straps. Placing his hand over the membrane, the sergeant exhaled a hot breath letting the seal attach to his skin, and once more he breathed inwards blocking the filter to assure that there were no exposed areas. Breathing in the confined environment, a sense of nausea waved over the sergeant before calming himself as to not hyperventilate and blackout a second time.
“Good to see you up and running.” Anthony commented as he knelt beside the sergeant and rested against the wall. The corporal removed a small roll of gauze from his IFAK and motioned for the sergeant to show him the wound on his arm. Mike didn’t even realize that he had scratched up his arm to the point where he was bleeding, but reluctantly, he extended his arm allowing Anthony to see the wound with a small flashlight mounted on his helmet and treat it was an alcoholic wipe.
Mike nodded silently as he reached down for his pistol. Taking it out of the holster, he held the FDE painted weapon in his hands before making a chamber-check to ensure that a bullet was loaded and ready to fire. Putting it back where it belonged, he grabbed his M-5 and looked towards the captain who was busy tapping away at the battle-tablet he had removed from his assault bag.
“Sir, where are we? How did we get here?” Coughing in his mask and using his hands to keep it in place, Oliver turned to Mike’s questions. The captain pondered a possible answer. The sergeant had yet to be exposed to anything beyond this single, dusty, storage room.
“Some kind of castle. We don’t have enough intel in this shithole we’ve ended up in.”
Those words confused Mike, “Castle?” he parroted.
“It’s just me and Richard right now. I bet the others are holed up somewhere, but we’ve maintained radio silence until you opened up.”
Anthony stood up and moved to a nearby box on the right side of the room. He brushed off the dust sitting on the latch and coming up with a possible solution, withdrew his knife and used it as leverage to open it. A fair amount of rustling came from the box before the eroded lock snapped open revealing the contents held within. The corporal let out a joy-filled chuckle as he leaned into the crate and pulled out what looked to be some sort of ceremonial, but well forged sword with a red pendant in the hilt. Noticing the unmoving glare he received from Oliver, the corporal was able to slide the sword in between his assault bag and the back of his plate carrier.
“Guess that confirms that this is a castle.” Mike growled as he pressed himself off the ground.
Gathering their bearings, the three Rangers went silent as a flurry of footsteps echoed out in the hall. Panicked voices whispered to each other, and from what they could guess the unknown persons spoke perfect English with a heavy sounding, Scandinavian accent. Anthony killed his helmet light and lowered himself behind the door he had opened. Mike and Oliver did much the same concealing themselves with whatever was around, with the sergeant going prone as there was no object that could fully conceal where he was.
Balancing his riddle on a large metal pot. Watching the bottom space on the door, a single person stood in front of the door. Mike breathed just barely as he watched the door through the unmoving magnified optic on the top of his rifle. His finger snuck just in front of the trigger, and he gently squeezed until the little slack there was remained negligible.
“Oh, great Holy Knights! I have been sent here to gather you and explain this dire situation!”
The voice came from a frail old man. That much the three were able to surmise as they remained in complete silence. Their position was compromised, and they could only hope that whoever was searching for them would continue further into the hall and forget about them giving a window of opportunity to escape and establish contact with the other Rangers that were no doubt being hunted just as they were.
Exchanging confused and concerned glances amongst each other, no one said a word as Captain Oliver raised his left hand and placed it above his head. Anthony held his breath as he translated the message into, “cover this area”. He gripped his rifle tightly as he looked down the magnified sight that gentle swayed half centimeters left and right.
Activating TEAMCOM, Mike voiced his concern in the lowest voice he could muster as he let his microphone do all the heavy lifting to transmit his words, “They know we’re here. Real question is how many there are and if they are going to use chemical weapons to snuff us out.” He kept his weapon trained on the wooden door as his words were just barely to be heard in Oliver’s and Anthony’s headsets.
“Keep put, Randall,” Oliver warned. “Don’t want to tip them off that there is only three of us. As far as those outside, possibly five or six including civilians. Don’t throw any shots.”
A pattern of knocks followed by the old man’s voice continued for some odd five minutes. Anthony was able to restrain himself form just ending the confrontation by launching a 40mm HEDP charge into the door and out into the hall, but thankfully his cool head prevailed as he opted to sit watching the entrance through the white-hot night vision his modified glasses provided.
“I must implore that you leave this room immediately! We already are aware of your presence, and I want to prevent a confrontation with the Royal Guard.”
At this point the patience Oliver had was waning. He stood up tall, alone. His hands firmly grasping his rifle. His eyes sharply tuned to the holographic sight showing where his bullets would be fired.
His men kept their words, but they too were affected by that single statement. It unnerved them and put a lot of pressure that wasn’t there previously. Now it was a matter of life and death. Diversion and subversion were not going to be an option if they wanted to walk out of this alive.
“Anthony, bag and drag. Take this guy alive,” Oliver ordered over TEAMCOM providing an instant plan to their current predicate, “Let’s force these guys to negotiate.”
“Done.” Anthony replied.
“Not yet.”
“This isn’t going to go over well,” Mike warned. “We could get killed the second that door opens.”
“I’ll bash that guy into the wall or something, should give enough time to secure him and perform crowd control.” Anthony planned with a smirk hidden behind the mask he wore.
“Mike, stay on center. Don’t let any of them get the jump on us. I’ll handle the extras.” Oliver directed. He used his ungloved hands to ensure that a round was chambered in his carbine. A determined look was held in his eyes as he slowly raised his weapon and stepped forward to the door leaving enough room to react if someone suddenly swung it open.
Performing such a response would be more than a huge risk. It was a suicide run that was a coin flip away from determining if they would live to see the next sunrise or sunset. All of them, even the Rangers they had lost contact with wanted an explanation to what was going on and where they stood at this very moment. It would take everything, violence, restraint, negotiation, hope to live another day and see this new mission of survival through to the end.
Getting off the ground and moving behind a large wooden box, Mike watched as Oliver deactivated his TEAMCOM link and breathed heavily as he prepared for a possible all-out fight, “How can you guarantee that we won’t be attacked by those guards?” He questioned the unknown man with a booming, commanding voice that the sergeant and corporal had only heard during combat missions in Africa. “As far as I’m concerned, this whole thing will end in a bloodbath. We are the trespassers here!”
His words were distorted through the respirator mask, but he remained unyielding not wanting to give a chance for the unknowns to retaliate.
The man on the other side seemed startled that he gained a response, albeit a threatening one. “Holy Knight? “Please come out! This kingdom needs you!” He asked again making Mike raise his eyebrow at the terminology and dialect being used. Had they ended up somewhere where royalty was still the main governing body? Or was such a title bestowed upon certain individuals? The sergeant couldn’t piece together why the old man was saying such things, but nothing made sense about this whole scenario anyways, especially that white void.
“I want answers! We won’t lower our weapons until we get some!” Oliver bellowed taking complete control of this exchange, “I do apologize for dropping in unannounced and causing a disturbance, yet we had no choice in the matter! Our circumstances forced us out of a conflict zone, and now possibly into another. All we want is safe exit, not only for me, but for my men scattered throughout this castle! We need to work together if we want this to go as smooth as it sails!”
“Mike, watch your crossfire when I slam that fucker into the wall.”
Captain Oliver took a step back from the door and kept his rifle trained on the invisible, unseen persons.
“At least let me help you Holy Knights! I can provide services and goods to help your journey back to your lands!” The old man was pleading at this point drawing some pity from the three Rangers.
A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.
“Open the damn door, then we’ll see!” Oliver ordered leaving no room for weakness. That was also the cue for Anthony to withdraw his handgun from the hip holster he had on. His rifle just laid across his chest, and with a silent nod to the captain, the three Rangers readied themselves to be overrun by the unknown.
“Dear Knights, I must implore that you come out! We can make concessions to your demands and—” The man was cut off by the booming voice of Oliver as he left no room for negotiation. They were going to do it his way, or the highway.
“You have us surrounded! There’s only a single entrance to this storage room, and I doubt that those extra five individuals next to you are there for show! They’re no doubt soldiers or guards appointed to you, and I doubt they have no orders to not kill us in even the slightest of hostilities! You want us to cooperate! Follow the damn order!”
“Yes, Sir Knight!” The man squealed as the door began to shift. Oliver shifted further back and moved next to Anthony tapping his shoulder as an indicator for him to soon move and apprehend the designated target.
Waiting anxiously as the heavy door slowly swung open, the three Rangers laid eyes on a frail old man that looked much like bishop or priest of the Catholic church. He was a man with greying-blonde hair and his white robes shined in the darkness along with the purple pearls that were resting on his neck. “Oh, great Holy Knights!” The man said not aware that Anthony had begun his sprint forward.
No one could get another word out as Anthony tackled the man to the ground and forced his arms behind his back as he quickly tightened a zip tie around the man’s wrists. Oliver moved to the right side as he kept his holographic sight aligned on the red-clothed guards that tried to storm into the room. Mike followed up and helped the corporal drag the man to the back of the room, his arms burned as he held his weapon with one hand and the arm of the man in his left.
“Great Sage!” One of the guards shouted giving a title to the frail old man.
The Sage’s entourage were gathered at the doorway with only two men, similar to that of medieval knights threatening the Rangers with their swords pointed directly at them. What felt like an eternity was nothing more than a silent ten seconds as the two sides remained in a standoff ready to kill each other at the drop of a hat. Captain Oliver and Mike kept their weapons trained on the men within the room, Anthony had taken a restraining position on top of the Great Sage’s back to keep him from squirming.
“You animals!” One of the guards shouted, “Let the Great Sage go!”
“Put down your weapons or I swear to God that I’ll put a hole through this fucker’s head!” Anthony boomed as he shoved the barrel of his pistol into the back of the sage’s head.
“Great Sage!” One of the guards boomed as he stepped forward keeping his blade level.
“Don’t you fucking do it! Drop the sword now!” Oliver barked trying to gain control of the rapidly escalating situation. He tried to get the men to comply, but they took another step forward towards Mike making him take the slack off of his trigger.
“Drop it! Do it now! Do it right now!” Mike shouted to the point where his voice broke. His sweat began to fog his visor, but he kept cool still having enough visibility to warrant an immediate response to the man who had stepped even closer to him.
“These are knights!?”
“Put it down!”
“Don’t!” Making a rash decision, the guard closest to Mike lunged forward with his blade aiming to penetrate his abdomen. The sergeant just barely was able to step back and avoid a hit as he fell to the ground and aimed his rifle square at the man’s chest.
Alongside Captain Oliver, thirteen cracks echoed in the miniscule room they were in. The other guards hugged their ears and backed into the hallway as the swordsman that was shot stumbled back as he clutched his new wounds. Blood pooled down his red garbs and he quickly collapsed to the ground chocking on his own blood. The bullets had made multiple openings in his chest, throat and abdomen, and as he slammed into the ground, his entrails became visible as he just held them back with his blood-cacked hands.
Moving left and grabbing the sergeant’s drag handle, Oliver helped the man up. Recovering from the near shock of being cut open, Mike and Oliver moved to either side of Anthony and knelt with their weapons still aimed towards the entrance. “Keep weapons hot! Don’t let them in!” the captain barked not wanting to almost lose his valuable SERGEANT a third time.
“Enough! Stand down!” Amongst the men in the hall, a feminine, almost bell like voice came from behind the entourage that was preparing to storm the room.
“Mike, pulse.” Oliver ordered.
“Sir.” Without any more words, Mike grasped a small, blocky object from his battle belt and placed it on the ground. The sergeant activated the device sending out a single, invisible pulse that read for biological lifeforms and a direct frequency. Due to not having their goggles on, Oliver used his tablet to verify the readings showing that there were ten individuals spread throughout the hall with one rapidly moving to step in front of the door.
The guards around the central figure all lowered their arms, suggesting that their weapons laid by their side. The three Rangers focused on the single individual who had now steppe into the threshold of the only doorway to the room. There a woman stood looking upon the two. Pressing her slim hand against the wall, a purple pulse emanated from the walls and activated what looked to be a light source in the center of the room. The entire area was lit up in a gentle orange glow and revealed who stood before the three Rangers.
A woman with sharp brown eyes and silver hair looked upon them. She wore a white blouse with accompanying brown skirt, and though she held the clothes of a normal person, the three could tell there was an other-worldly aura about her. Her pale skin made her glow in the low light environment, and the gentle white-purple pulse she had released from her hands was soothing, yet terrifying.
Focusing on Mike, the woman peered directly into the barrel of the sergeant’s M-5 carbine. Her trail then fell to the deceased man on the floor who had fell limp on his side. Her boots had landed in the puddle of blood around his body, and she grimaced.
“Would someone like to explain what is happening here?” She ordered in a sharp voice.
The three looked amongst each other. They each shrugged shoulders as the responsibility fell back to the captain who was more than annoyed. He was a bit furious that the entire mission had gone awry and now he was to explain something that was well beyond his comprehension to someone he had no idea about.
“With respect ma’am, but you are currently interfering with a sanctioned United Sates deployment on foreign soil.” Oliver started trying to see if he could get any answers to what happened to the US or Pakistan, “The Pakistani government has given us authority to take individuals interfering into custody, but obviously that doesn’t seem to be an option, does it?”
“No,” She crudely said staring directly at Mike. “And what of you people? You have just breached the tight security of the royal palace, and now the other mages on the other side of the castle have still yet to report to me. I want to know if I can trust you in this very moment, nothing more.”
She said this in a way that made Mike surmise that she was well aware of their presence even before they made their untimely appearance.
“Captain?” Anthony casted a worried look at Oliver who was staring at the woman with wide eyes. He was taken aback by this whole conversation. Turning to look at the Great Sage restrained by the corporal, Oliver bit his tongue as he tried to understand and theorize the best option to proceed with this hastily assembled negotiation that had been prompted by this woman.
“Perhaps a simpler question would be warranted; do you understand why you are here?” She chimed with a slight frown.
“No, but I doubt anything I told you would be easily believable.” Oliver offered as he stood up slowly leaving his hands by his side and allowing the woman to see that he was making no move for his firearm resting on his chest. “We were on mission in Peshawar, Pakistan. Then, we ended up here. Beyond that, we’d like to keep our secrets. ”
The woman cocked her head to the side as she grew an amused look on her pale face, “You men are truly strange. The previous soldier I spoke to said something similar, along the lines of “Plausible deniability”. She stumbled out those two words as if she didn’t understand the true connotation of those words.
At this point Mike lowered his rifle drawing the attention of the silver-haired woman. “Captain?” He said in a rough voice as he lowered his arms disposing the idea that he would be a threat to whomever they were speaking to this very second.
“Sir?” Anthony said also as he slowly inched back his pistol. Hesitation was held in both Rangers and Captain Oliver remained uneasy in the face of this new threat that may not even be held by the woman and the once entourage of this “Great” Sage. He thought on it with the silence that followed Anthony single word.
“Stand down.”
“Sir, with all due respect, this isn’t a good idea.” Anthony snorted as he waved his pistol making his point clear.
“Shut it. Talk anymore and it’ll be worse than our current OPSEC.”
Falling into silence, the Rangers didn’t know what to say. This whole predicate was well beyond them and their years of training. Nothing was confirmed, but all evidence pointed to no longer being on Earth. From the unusual, knightly castle, to the unknown pulse that the silver-haired woman released from her palm, the supernatural world beyond theirs had just manifested before their eyes. And no amount of standard operating procedures, tactical planning, or fall back rendezvous could help them.
Breaking the ice and placing a clenched fist over the center of her chest, the woman spoke gently as she cursed, “My name is Leccamaradel Emma Araish, the First Born Princess to the Kingdom of Yondel. It is a pleasure to meet you newly summoned Holy Knights.” She let go of the hem of her skirt letting it fall back naturally into place.
A princess. That was the thought that ran through the Rangers’ minds as they stood dumbfounded.
Not knowing what to do but placate the semi-smooth conversation, Mike let out a heavy exhale as he took of his helmet and clipped it to his belt. Oliver and Anthony watching in complete silence as the Ranger loosened his gas mask and removed it from his face. The light amount of sweat on his face shimmered until he wiped it away with his left sleeve. The princess eyed him with a curious and shocked look in her widened eyes. She didn’t expect this “Holy Knight” to be nothing more than a simple man. Sure, she may have surmised that they were of human origin, but this was completely different than what she expected; short brown hair, brown eyes, and a tanned skin complexion. She herself was perplexed by this whole experience.
“Princess Araish, was it? Please to meet you, I’m Sergeant Mike Randall, on my right are Corporal Anthony Richard and Captain Oliver Thompson.” Mike introduced the other two.
“Randall?” She parroted.
“Sergeant, your mask.” Oliver said with an edge in his voice. It was clear he wasn’t going to tolerate the sergeant leaving himself exposed to anything, not especially when considering the dead body on the ground separating them from the princess.
“Captain, if they wanted to kill us, they would’ve done it already.” Mike argued only putting his current position with the captain in a deeper hole.
“Self-defense?” Oliver inquired with a heart-pounding glare.
“Does it even matter at this point? We can’t subject them to international law, I’ve never heard of a nation that went by the name of Yondel.”
Anthony gently lifted himself off the Great Sage letting the old man let out a frail whimper. He holstered his pistol and walked between the captain and sergeant that had now been glaring daggers at each other. The visual separation was enough to de-escalate the growing friction. “Araish? A-Rish? You and the others have been saying things about some “Holy Knights.” Mind telling us where this is coming from, that and the whole “summoning” bullshit you spouted?” He said turning the conversation back to the princess who had snapped out of her light stupor.
Leccamaradel raised an eyebrow. She seemed annoyed by the butchering of her family name and the improper language being used by the corporal, but she ignored it choosing diplomacy, “Yes, you have all been summoned.”
If that wasn’t a bombshell that confirmed everything Captain Oliver had feared, then he didn’t know if an IED would do him in the next time around. Well, it was either that or alcohol.
Lowering and shaking his head, Mike attached his mask to his belt like he did his helmet. He cursed to himself and kicked the ground, and now he found himself patting a small pocket on his plate carrier. To say he was pissed was a worldly understatement, this changed everything, and now he didn’t feel as kind. He wanted to dance around the topic, but the princess had too just be blunt. Perhaps it would be better, yet his logical thinking was grasping at straws as he calmed himself down and stood up tall.
At this point Anthony had helped the Great Sage up. He withdrew his knife and held it in his left hand. It would be helpful for him to give up custody of the old man, but he wouldn’t do it until Oliver gave the order, which by the second, it seemed he was considering that idea to gain some goodwill points from the princess. The captain had played against and danced in the world of politics, so the corporal had no doubt that he was determining the best route to go on from here.
“There has to be more to this. A reason we were brought here.” Mike looked over his shoulder towards Oliver.
“You want to find out?”
“There’s only one way. Right, princess?”
All eyes turned to the silver-haired maiden. A small, conflicted smile had crossed her lips.
“Yes, follow me, Holy Knights.”
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Publicly Available Information: Profile Database 2 — Oliver Thompson:
Oliver Thompson is a current Captain (O-3) in the United States Army and is a current squadron leader within the infamous 75th Ranger Regiment. He has taken the mantle of responsibility as a leader and his primary job is to keep his squadron connected and in line with other units supporting the regiment.
Born and raised in Ramstein Airforce Base, Germany, Oliver grew up as a military brat with his then father working as a plane engineer within the USAF. His mother was of Austrian decent and his father of Korean descent giving him a distinct place amongst his fellow soldiers within the army. He is both fluent in German, and Korean and often finds himself traveling to either country during holiday tours or for family affairs. He is married to one Jane Rhodes and is currently expecting his first two children, twins to be exact.
Oliver drifted in and out of white-collar jobs before finding his wife which gave him a new purpose. Commissioning into the army straight out of college, Oliver would go on to gain credit amongst his superiors for his direct and by-the-books thinking which helped him get promoted rapidly during the sudden UN-African conflict that emerged no less than three years after his commissioning. During the war, he was rotated back to the United States and was sent to RASP by his company commander where he excelled within his element as an officer within the training and he was soon transferred to the 75th Ranger Regiment. Deploying alongside then 2nd Lieutenant Andrew Andrew and PFC Mike Randall, he would often find himself inside some of the worst hot zones within Central Africa leading to his company taking severe casualties near the end of the war.
Not shortly after the war, Oliver was then promoted to major, but was shortly deranged to captain. The war had taken many lives, and Oliver got lost in the bureaucratic mess in Washington DC, and he would be downgraded in responsibility as a squadron leader during the Pakistan Insurgency movement in 2112.
Unbeknownst by most in his company, Oliver became very bitter and temperamental after his tours in Africa. Though he often keeps a stoic and leader-like mask on, he often lets his true thoughts and intentions slip during the most intense and dangerous of situations. Oliver is a man that has seen it all and done it all. He is the embodiment of an unstoppable force and will do anything to achieve mission results, even if it costs him his life. He will only stop himself if there is a friendly mass-casualty event. Such events have led to him developing questionable thoughts towards those in authority within the United States Government, and his wavering allegiance to those who stroke pens for a living has been noted by his immediate superiors but not much beyond that.
If an opportunity presents itself, Oliver will begrudgingly help whoever will help him get to his next mission. His teammates look up to him for his unwavering tenacity, something he finds to fuel his miniscule ego.
Oliver Oliver is a known drinker, but he can somehow stave off the effects of withdraw.