O727 HOURS.
WEDNESDAY, 17 AUTUMNSUS 1411.
GLACIES YONDEL.
Corporal Conner Ramirez. Specialist Mathew Jackson. Specialist John Xavier. Private First Class Zane Cage.
The weight of their lives rested in a soft palm. Only four names would ever be remembered as long as their scratch, aluminum dog tags stayed in readable condition. Though the tags seemed mass produced, their names were inscribed on the metal with precision.
Death for a soldier was not to be unexpected. Choices made on the field of battle, or even by the flick of a pen would disastrous and fatal consequences come into fruition.
Was she a soldier? She held the rank of a Chieftain, a senior officer. But was such a rank due to her family lineage; was she promoted as an officer so rapidly so that those at the top could secure brownie points with her family? Not that her rank meant anything at this point. Her role was moved away from a strategist and instead a figurehead for the kingdom.
Princess Leccamaradel was now nothing to any key resource. She no longer held any power, just a name that was casted upon her, “The Silver Demon”. Unlike these Holy Knights, unlike these unfamiliar “Rangers” as they called themselves, she held no ability to protect her homeland.
Looking up from the tags, the princess stood in front of a large wooden door. From the underground storage area where she had encountered the second group of “Rangers”, she had Captain Orwell guide them to a guest room on the east wing of the castle. The tags she held were found in a corner of the room when she helped the clean-up team remove the body of Royal Guard Skugge. The young boy had made the fatal mistake of trying to fight the Holy Knights.
Those weapons: clad in both black and brown colors with unknown objects covering every inch had completely desecrated the young man’s body in a way she had never seen before. Their function was similar to that of a musket, or at least the concept was. Thirteen clean holes tore through the guard’s flesh and spread blood and body matter all over the stone floor. No normal musket was able of that volume of fire, even the newest variants could only hold up to five shots.
Everything about these Rangers were out of her once believable reality. Men dressed in attire that represented the natural environment they operated in. They wore no steel plates or leather guards, opting for armor that she almost missed upon first glance. They chose speed over protection. If they could avoid attacks, why would they need to wear heavy armor? That, along with the masks that concealed their faces and provided a distorted voice made her shiver. It was for protection, yet she didn’t know what protection it provided and why they would need to be wearing it.
Her hand firmly clenched around the tags. If she remembered correctly one of the three Rangers had dropped these delicate items. If she remembered correctly, it was the man that went by the name of “Mike”. She had spotted an open pouch on the vest he wore. And now it was up to her to return these items back to him.
Something that she was glad for was the fact that her people wouldn’t have to translate. It seemed that wherever the Rangers came from they spoke the same language, or at least a different dialect. It was even more convenient that she was able to read the text inscribed on the tags, though it was in old imperium, a language she had not read or written in three years.
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Reaching out her hand and brushing it against the smooth wood door, the princess momentarily stopped. Just a half-hour ago she had introduced herself to the Rangers, both groups. Her actions did little to ease their tensions, but the least she was able to do was open a dialogue with them to negotiate and explain what had happened. It wasn’t her intention to get cozy with them, no, she was simply here to return an item of prized possession, yet her actions could be viewed in a negative manner for the soldiers, after all, she was able to understand that they had exited what seemed to be a warzone. The terms counterterrorism, and foreign internal defense were hard to understand, so she surmised that it was a war between their home country, and ally, and the unnamed enemy.
Turning her hand over, the princess rapped her knuckles against the wood twice startling the men within. Preparing her heat and stepping away from the door, a young man in the same earthly-colored fatigues now stood before he with wide bright blue eyes, rusted brown hair, and freckles adorning his face. Behind him, the others watched silently.
“Ma’am?” The young man said in a confused manner before something clicked in his head and he straightened his posture and stood to the side, “My apologies ma’am! Please come in.”
“It’s okay Jacob, take a breather.” A man with the same rank insignia as Sergeant Randall coughed as he rose from his seat. The princess blinked several times finding herself staring at the man, but she said nothing as she walked to where, Oliver and his second-in-command were standing.
The entire time his squadron had been interacting with the princess now standing above him, Thomson had let himself continue to turn the pages of the manual he had tucked away in his assault pack. Only did he look up and stand at attention when the princess finally stopped shuffling around in nervousness as his men stood ready around each corner of the room waiting for the moment to storm out of the castle and escape this unknown place to signal for extraction.
“Respectfully, how should my men address you, Ms. Araish?” He asked in a low voice, the exhaustion throughout his body had begun to affect his mind.
“Calling by my given or family name will suffice, though you can also refer to my position within the kingdom.”
“Very well, Princess Araish.”
“Lecca is acceptable.”
As the white-haired maiden pursed her lips and let out a gentle, playful huff, none of the men around her reacted to her attempt to create a calm environment to speak in. All looked at her with narrowed eyes or annoyed expressions, but they couldn’t blame her. She had no idea what they had been through. Exiting from the warzone that was Peshawar had left invisible scars; over twenty dead, some being their own. It would take time for the riflemen to adjust to this sanitized and regal place. Staying their tongues would be the best option. At least it was if they wanted to halt the endless fighting.
“So, what bring you here? Are we being moved to a more secure holding cell?” Oliver questioned. He was familiar with this process the Royal Guard had thrown his men into; detaining someone into custody without the legal jumbo involved moving them and isolating them from possible exits in smaller, and more contained locations.
Princess Lecamaradel was bewildered by the suggestion the captain had made. As far as her knowledge went, all Royal Guard staff and army knights were currently busy processing the identities of these Rangers to input them into the 1st Royal Guard Division. There was no talk whatsoever about detaining the other-worldly men, not even after they killed one of their own. “No, I was simply here to return an item of value.” She whimpered out trying to avoid walking into a possible hostile environment.
“Valuable?” Lieutenant Andrew arched his eyebrows as he looked down at the woman’s hands spotting a small silver object.
“Yes.” Leccamaradel said softly as she raised her hand and opened it showing the metallic dog tags.
Everyone froze at the sight of the dog tags. Sergeant Randall stormed over. Mike immediate slammed his hand against the open pocket on his plate carrier. He stood tall over the silver-haired princess with a harrow-filled gaze and firmed press lips. Extending his ungloved, bloodied-crusted hands, the sergeant looked at her shining brown eyes.
“Please, princess. I want those back.”
Lecca lowered her head and stared at the bloodied, calloused hands Mike presented. From the state his hands were in, she was able to gain a better idea of what these “Rangers” just walked out of. Looking back up, the princess reached out her hands and gently placed them in the sergeant’s. She was stuck staring at the man’s face. It was covered in a light layer of dirt and the outline of his goggles had left an impression on his skin.
Removing her hands from his, the princess took a step back as the sergeant clenched his hand around the still warm tags. He let out a heat-filled exhale as he returned the names into a more secure pocked on his left arm.
“These are your fallen frattens. Your fallen brothers.”
No one said a word as Mike slowly zipped up the pocket he placed the dog tags in. Lieutenant Andrew patted the sergeant’s shoulder and walked to the opposite side of the room. “Thank you.” Mike said in a low voice just loud enough for the princess to hear. The young woman nodded her head and curtsied before standing up tall and turning to the captain.
“Now, princess, thank you for doing this, but there has to be more.” Oliver inquired glancing out the only window in the room before turning back to the woman. “We’ve had a few to process what you said when we first arrived; summoning and magic aren’t my forte, we don’t understand such concepts, but one of the guards said we are no longer on Earth or within the nation of Pakistan.”
“Correct. The king had made the decision to summon a group of Holy Knights to bolster the Royal Guard’s strength.”
“Are you fucking kidding me!?” Oliver slammed his first against the wall. He was seething with anger, and Andrew quickly walked over to help restrain the captain from making a move he would regret. “We watched over twenty of our brothers die, and now you’re telling me we can’t even get the chance to bring them home! Back to the United States! What the hell does your nation want!?”
“Captain.” Andrew said holding the man back as he attempted to step closer to the princess. “We need to think, sir.”
“Lieutenant, Operation Silver Strike was going to bring stability to the middle east, and you’re telling me that we are supposed to go AWOL without a second thought!? My wife is going to fucking kill me if she learns that the army considers us deserters!”
“Captain!”
“And now this kingdom wants us to be some holy knight bullshit, to betray our oath! No ROE we’ve ever been under dictates a first contact scenario!”
“Captain!”
“This is going to kill us all, lieutenant! Do you understand, we are out of our element here!”
Swallowing hard and wiping his mouth with his left sleeves, Oliver fell into silence as the lieutenant gently released him. He breathed heavily while staring at the wide-eyed princess. She looked no different than a deer frozen in a pair of headlights. Eventually her face reanimated itself and adjusted to the uncomforting place she was given by the captain. He by no means was wrong, the king—no, her nation had ripped them from their lives, their world, their homes, their friends, their families. There was nothing the Kingdom of Yondel could give them. Nothing could replace the world they knew. She was a perpetrator, it was her duty to at least guarantee that they could live another, perhaps even with the vein hope that they could return to this world that only went by the name of “Earth”.
Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.
Oliver’s word had taken a severe hit on the already low morale of his squadron. Two teams of a mish-match of misfits were all he had. Each were trained and skilled in their own expertise, Jacob communications and technologies, Baker air traffic control, Anthony demolitions, Malkovich close quarters combat. All were under his direct command, and effectively immediately he was their sole commanding officer to help them survive and guide them through a world casted in the shadow of war and the unknown.
“If I may, sir.” Mike stood to the front and became to voice of reason and calm, “We are completely cut off from the U.S. and our allies. The best thing we can do is perform diplomacy with Yondel and the king to ensure that we aren’t going to be kicked out. Princess Araish can supplement our efforts, won’t you?”
Her brown eyes lit up at the so simple suggestion that was overlooked. A smile broke out onto her lips, and she adjusted her flat silver hair from her shoulder.
“Before we do that, I would recommend you all at least wash your faces.” She let out a gentle chuckle using her hand to point to a nearby basin that had been placed for the men to freshen up themselves.
Somewhat dumbfounded, Mike walked over to the basin, and just behind it laid a large mirror. As he stood in the rays of sunlight that breached the slim, white curtain, the sergeant became silent when he looked at himself. His face was covered in blood and dust. Grime had collected on his entire body, no doubt from the work he did trying to rescue anyone at the target building. He reached into the basin, much to the princess’s surprise and watched as the water he had scooped up turn into a deep red-brown hue before it escaped between his fingers and fell down onto the ground where he directed his hands.
“We’re going to need a bucket or something. Can’t risk contaminating the rest of the water.” Malkovich let out a small growl as he walked beside his fellow sergeant and looked into the large basin.
Lecca seemed dumbfounded. She did not expect these men to just stand above the basin. “I will show you how it operates.” Not expecting the princess to walk up to them amused and annoyed by their ramblings, both sergeants moved away from the basin as Lecca raised her hand casting a gentle glow. The men remained in pure shock as she activated what looked to be an extendable spout that shot up from the basin which was now glowing a gentle white. Running water now poured out of the spout and into the basin.
“The water within is purified as long as the basin is fed with mana. It does not take much. You should be able to do it know that I have shown you the mechanism.”
The two sergeants exchanged pulled looks with each other after hearing the explanation provided by the princess. “Mana, as in magic?” Sergeant Malkovich asked with a look of disbelief. Suddenly staring at the two with wide eyes, it instantly clicked in Leccamaradel’s head that these men, these “Rangers” had no such concept of mana. Now that she thought of it more clearly, it seemed that the gear the Rangers wore was tailored by precision mechanical experts and they had just about every gadget imaginable.
Metallic, customized weapons. Form fitting uniforms and other wearables. Communications equipment that was a far cry from the typical and overzealous relay rooms that took up an absurd area. These men were from a mechanical society far away from anything where magic would have an impact.
“Pay no heed to those words. Please, clean yourselves.” Slightly embarrassed, the princess let a miniscule tether extend from her thumb and attach to the basin letting a constant flow of water free.
“Right.”
Mike seemed only slightly amused by the flustered state of the princess as he moved and removed his helmet and scooped a fair amount of water into his hands. The princess watched him as he and Malkovich were the first to clean their short-cut hair and scarred faces. In the span of ten seconds the two men had washed off the heaviest of grime and blood that hid their skin. Mike took a deep breath as he reached for his assault pack and took out a small Jacob towel that he used to dry himself before handing it to Malkovich who did the same shortly after.
“You heard the lady. Move it a little.”
Giving the captain some chagrin for his joke, one-by-one the men slowly began to clean themselves. It wasn’t a fully decontamination of the dirt and dust that had accumulated on them from their stint in Peshawar, but it was more than enough to give them a some-what presentable appearance.
The princess had mentioned earlier that they would soon be speaking to the king himself. Oliver was the one that voiced his complaints of conduction diplomacy without being in Class-A uniforms, but even Lieutenant Andrew, who enjoyed being dressed up, preferred to remain in their BDUs. If they were summoned here for a reason, to fight which most presumed, then guns, armor, and bullets would be more appreciated than ribbons and medals.
Princess Lecca would sit in silence for some time. Her curiosity of these Rangers was overtaken by her self-imposed to learn more about them and to soon write a report of their capabilities. At first, she felt disappointed that all the men present seemed to have a lack of mana and magical capability, but by no means were they stupid or uncappable of what the king might ask of them. Between the soft-spoken conversations, the younger soldiers had between each other while the captain and his semi-collected upper echelons spoke tactics and planning of their next move, she was confident that they would be able to deal with such a threat that even perhaps would exceed the current problem brewing at the northern border of her kingdom.
“Hey Jacob, you keeping up okay?” Separating from the now finished conversation with their captain, both Lieutenant Andrew and Sergeant Malkovich steeped in front of the silent PFC who was sitting alone on one of the beds in the room.
“Sergeant? Lieutenant?” The young boy was confused as he stopped adjusting the radio that Oliver had lent him.
“We were hit hard. I know you were particularly close to both Ramirez and Xavier. I just want to make sure you’re going to be okay while we’re stuck here.” Andrew said with a downcast expression.
The young nineteen-year-old let out a self-depreciating chuckle, “Well, I guess I won’t be toying with Xavier’s drones or Ramirez’s kit anytime soon.”
The three happened to stop as they all glanced at the princess. It just so happened that the silver-haired maiden had been watching them, and upon realizing that she had been caught, she averted her gaze just in time for Captain Oliver to approach her now that he had cooled down and addressed the problems his Rangers were in to his second and trusted NCOs.
“Princess Araish, thank for doing that. We were in a tough spot back in Peshawar, and uh, I do apologies for the way I outburst at you.”
The captain wore an apathetic expression. Lecca didn’t quite know how to proceed with this even with her years of training and time as a diplomat.
“Apology accepted, Captain Oliver.” She gently bowed her head in respect.
“Don’t mind me being blunt, but what the hell are we really doing here? I want to know why we’re here and what you want my men to march into. And if it’s something out of our capabilities, I am not going to let my Rangers die for some bullshit.”
“I cannot say what the king has I mind for all of you. I am afraid you will have to direct all your questions to him when he summons you.”
Oliver had no tact in speaking with the princess as he kicked the ground and paced around, “What the hell are we supposed to do until he summons us?”
“I cannot give you to many options, but you should be able to go to the dining quarters. That or I can get you a maid or guard to help you explore the castle grounds. In fact, I believe that I am available to give a tour to a few of your men if you would like.”
Looking around the room Oliver rubbed his hand over the slim mustache he had. He contemplated the three choices he had, and he took in the consideration of the current status of his battered and, though he hated to admit it, defeated men. Each had just been through a small version of hell, and he wasn’t about to put any of them at risk, yet this opportunity presented to him would allow everyone to know more about the world they landed in, that and the white void they were able to escape.
“Lieutenant, Randall! Get over here!”
Stopping what they were doing, the two Rangers walked over quickly.
“Captain.” Andrew said tapping Mike on the shoulder.
The Lieutenant felt a bead of water run down the side of his head. The thirty-year-old patted his thigh just barely feeling the holster where in laid his pistol.
“You two go with the princess. We’ll take care of any issues here.” Oliver ordered leaving no room for discussion.
Glancing out of the corner of his eye, Mike glazed over his rifle parked alongside the bed he had temporarily placed his gear on. He left everything there with the exception of his plate carrier, the gear he had on his battle belt, and the drop-leg holster attached to his right thigh. Worry grew on him as he suspected the worse. The princess could very well be doing this to separate him from the rest of the squadron, so at least the sergeant could understand why he was sending Lieutenant Andrew to be his battle buddy.
He turned his eyes back to the princess. She still looked the same as she did when he first met her: silver hair, slim body, fitting clothes. He took a deep breath trying to rack his brain with the understanding that this sight might be a common occurrence along with whatever supernatural magic she casted to spout water from a basin.
“Nothing but a little recon, sergeant.” Andrew tapped his shoulder while walking to the door. It had seemed the junior officer jumped on the opportunity.
Nodding his head at the princess who was watching him with quiet eyes, the sergeant soon followed and within seconds the two Rangers were gathered outside of the room alongside the silver-hair princess. An unsettling silence grew into tension as both the lieutenant and the sergeant remained dead quiet as the princess shut the door wooden door behind them. As a precautionary measure, Andrew left his right hand hanging around his pistol, while Mike kept his hands on his vest, his left just near the knife parked on his shoulder.
Lecca herself remained wary of the two men. She had noticed that they were on edge and were waiting for the chance to jump into armed combat. These Rangers were trained killers and no doubt would easily take her life in combat. Her magic was essentially useless against the men, and though she was a trained soldier herself, the physical prowess of the two men would easily overpower any resistance she would be able to show.
“If I may, you two are soldiers of your home nation. Randall was it, what do you do?” Her question was directed towards Sergeant Randall.
Turning his head to the junior officer next to him, Mike allowed Andrew to answer. “You can call him Mike.” The lieutenant said with a smirk before gaining an elbow to the side making him stumble in place. “Right. We’re a member of a light infantry unit. We specialize in direct action and counterterrorism.”
“I have heard those terms several times today. Are you a specialized branch that can change the tide of a war?”
Mike’s face scrunched as he found the curious personality the princess was giving amusing. “Yes and no. We can participate in a war, but our main mission is to ensure peace throughout the world, not that we can do that in our current situation.”
“Peace? That is such a difficult concept to achieve.” The princess surmised trying to imagine what type of fights and wars made up the world that the summoned men came from.
“Correct. It might be self-glorifying, but we undertake the jobs that not many people will be willing to throw themselves into. Make us a bit crazy, at least some of us.” The sergeant sighed as he looked back at the wooden door.
Lecca nodded in understanding with a light giggle. “Indeed. Sometimes such mission can drive a soldier crazy. Come along now.” She ordered turning on her heels and walking down the castle hallway.
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Publicly Available Information: Profile Database 3 — Andrew Devlin:
1st Lieutenant Andrew Devlin was formerly a communications mechanic within the U.S. Army before gaining his commission as an officer at age 28. Going immediately to Airborne, then to Ranger School, the now thirty-year-old soldier has spent his fair time raising the ranks through attrition and skill. Formerly working under the 130th Engineer Brigade, the hardcore junior officer was soon reassigned into the same unit as Captain Oliver Thompson and participated in the African conflict.
Taking inspiration from his now dead uncle, Andrew spent his time carefully gaining friends in high places during his time as an enlisted soldier. He was able to work alongside many noteworthy officers and SNCOs, though this came with the consequences of gaining the ire of his fellow soldiers of “sucking up” to any and all superiors he came across. Though this is not his intention, Andrew still uses his connections to gain access to more selective opportunities within the army and has even been recommended to take the SAPPER course and Special Forces Selection test, though he has denied both being comfortable with his position with the 75th Ranger Regiment.
During combat missions in Africa, Andrew believed in his role as a patriot and a soldier earning many meritorious awards for his actions when tasked alongside U.S. Marines. He served two tours in Africa and a single tour in Afghanistan where he was temporarily assigned to a reconnaissance operation being spearheaded by United Kingdom SAS. He was highly respected by his British comrades and was even recommended by their CO for a promotion, yet this was postponed due to an insurgency that grew out of proportion in Pakistan and Iraq.
Known to keep a strict “business only” attitude towards his work, many find it hard to speak to and relate to the junior officer, though those either luck or unfortunate enough to know the man on a deeper level are aware of his often bland and pain-inducing personality. Even in attempts to be found “funny” amongst his peers, Andrew struggles to relate to them and is often called old. The only way he can easily converse with others is to treat them as if he were in a hostage negotiation which displays his ineptitude for small talk.
This is only mitigated towards certain individuals he can synergize with such as Sergeant Mike Randall.