O803 HOURS.
WEDNESDAY, 17 AUTUMNSUS 1411.
GLACIES YONDEL.
“Senator Orpheus, King Aldrect wrote to you again.”
Silence fell over the meeting. The early morning sun shined upon the buffed floors of a small office on the east side of the castle, and thirteen individuals stood uncertainly as the leader tapped his foot on the ground and drummed his fingers over the letter that was presented to him by one of his subordinates. Reaching for a small letter opener, Orpheus held it firmly in his hands as he placed the blade under the first layer of paper. With a single, delicate motion the blade tore through the wax pressed at the center of the letter. A slim amount of the red wax coated the blade as the man retracted it and wiped it off with a nearby white cloth. With the anticipating glances of his men pressed upon him the senator took his hand and folded the envelope open before taking out the actual letter held within.
“What is the status of the expeditionary force we sent north?”
Out of all the men present, a single junior knight stepped forward and stood rigidly as the senator turned his blue eyes towards him.
“Sir, we still have no contact with the strike team. Their primary objective has been complete, but they have gone further than the border, so we have lost track of them. We recently have found evidence of their whereabouts, though many doubt that they are still alive.”
It had been like this for some time. Two years ago, an expeditionary group of soldiers and knights were organized to provide support for the northern communities just before the border. Their last report contained information of an unknown organization being formed within the Frontier, so under special orders from the king, a small team was inserted past the border and into the Frontier. There, they completely lost contact and were believed to have been killed in action.
“We need to get on top of this current predicament brought upon by the summoning of those Holy Knights.”
Quite whispers were exchanged between the gathered men. It seems the current timetable the senator had in place was soon to be moved forwards.
“Senator, I do believe that we still need the extra year to coordinate our resources. Ever since the political situation has deteriorated, we cannot risk any hostilities with our allies. Your family has enormous sway over the Royal Family and court, yet it isn’t enough to rush the process.”
For the plan to work this advisor was correct. Time was needed. His words did emphasize this throughout the entire meeting, and it placed Senator Orpheus in a tough position. Fighting within a war room was simply a bad idea. It would get more people killed than necessary. With the sudden appearance of these Holy Knights and their soon to be mission to the north, it was imperative that the plan was moved ahead of time. This paradox of achieving more with no time made Orpheus stumbled over his thoughts. He was no putted master, but there was little he could do with the strings he had throughout the government. Scanning the contents of the letter, he let out a tired sigh as he now grew disinterested in continuing the meeting. “Leave the politics to me,” he closed his eyes as he rose from his chair. “The king will want answers; thus, I will need to present it to him.”
“Of course, sir.” Vice Count Mororcos answered for everyone present.
With a silent nod, Senator Orpheus vacated his office and began to walk down an empty hall. He kept his hands tucked away in his pant pockets trying to warm himself. The rays of light cutting through the glass windows warmed his body, but his breaths remained cool in the mid-fall weather. The advent of these Holy Knights, unknown soldiers summoned to serve the throne was something he found to be an opportunity. Power through an outsider was something he wanted to take advantage of but being aware that the king was soon to assign the First-Born Princess over these men placed a roadblock he would have to adjust to. Continuing his walk for some time wandering to nowhere, he eventually stopped as a voice reached his ears.
“You wanted to see the world you were summoned into, here, see it for yourself.”
Stepping to the side and looking out a set of open glass doors with sharp eyes, the senator looked upon the three gathered on the balcony. Two of the Holy Knights and the princess were standing, watching the rising sun as it casted its golden rays onto the grand castle overlooking the capital city of Glacies. He felt a small brush of the warm air that flooded into the hallway, and his eyes narrowed as the bright glow of the sun casted a silhouette of all three.
Mike and Andrew didn’t catch the man watching them as they stood staring at the sky. Moments ago, they had just finished the princess’s explanation of several paintings and other valuable items that littered the halls they walked, and now his exhausted eyes watched the slowly fading purple-blue sky as the sun rose in the far horizon. Dimension hopping into the beautiful world from Peshawar wasn’t one of the things on his bucket list, yet, he had done it, and now all he could do was watched the distant scenery.
Mike wondered, were it not for gravity these untouched stars would’ve been long conquered by man long ago. It was the same for this world as it was his own.
Leaning against the stone railing the two Rangers remained in place, mesmerized. The princess looked upon both with a delicate smile. This was one of the few places she knew of to see such a sight. The warm light and cool air made the two men relax for the first time within 48 hours. Observing the distant golden-Jacob fields well beyond the walled city, to the stretching blue horizon just to their left which showed an impressive bay that was packed full of wooden vessels, the air of mystery began to encapsulate their minds. It was clear earlier that they were no longer on Earth. Now, they could see it with their own two eyes.
Mike clutched the pendant his sister gave him. “What is this place?”
With a gentle voice, Princess Leccamaradel moved to stand beside the sergeant. “This is Yondel. One of the many nations that make up this magical world. Here, the unknown is accepted, and the supernatural is just another way of saying life. Magic makes up every living being. We do not know of any other way of life.”
“That’s a quaint way of looking at life.” Andrew chirped.
“I know you said we’d be able to speak to the king soon. I’ve only heard whispers about why we’re here, and I was curious if you had any insight.” Mike followed up still searching for a proper answer.
“I do not know myself. He has intentionally kept me in the dark of when the topic of conversation grew to the summoning ritual he wanted to perform. Though what I will say is that the king will expect instant loyalty to the throne, yet from what I gather you will not bend the knee to anyone, including royalty.”
“Aren’t you the princess though? It wouldn’t make sense for him to leave you out.”
Before Lecca could think of a response to the lieutenant, Mike cut in, “The royal family could function similarly to how Britain’s family worked. Queen Elizabeth served as more a figure head. The ones before her though did have some executive power,” There was a pause as the sergeant seemed frustrated. “Didn’t she live up to 130 years old?”
Andrew shook his head and scratched his wrist. “I think it was actually 134 years.”
“Queen Elizabeth?” The princess parroted misunderstanding what the two Rangers were speaking of.
“She was the queen of the United Kingdom. A country where we come from. Her family are more figureheads that acts as diplomats rather than actual rulers. That’s reserved for any executive representative such as the Prime Minister.” Mike explained.
Standing perplexed unable to follow the explanation, Lecca watched as the two Rangers fell into silence as they basked in the growing, golden sunlight. Though they may have cleaned themselves earlier, the stains of war still covered their clothes and armor. Mike’s bloodstained sleeves were all the princess could stare at. She herself had never been involved with a battle, no less a war. Her kills had only been limited to organized assassinations where the end result was no more than a splatter of red liquid on the wall or floor. Destruction was not in her nature, precision was. However, these men had to live with both in the world they were summoned from.
In this quiet moment, the three heard footsteps emerging from behind. All three turned around only to see an old butler standing at the doorway. Not sure of what to make of this, the two soldiers waited in place as the princess walked up to the old man who she seemed familiar with. Both princess and butler spoke in hushed whispers, and only after their whispered conversation was complete did the silver-hair maiden turn back standing before the two with a determined edge in her eyes. The sun reflected on her silky hair, and her pale skin glowed in the bask of the orange light.
“Holy Knights, the king has ordered your audience in the throne room, immediately.” This sudden order from the king wasn’t unforetold, but the two would have at least expected to remain in custody for a week before being allowed access to the primary government representative of Yondel.
“Right,” The lieutenant bit his tongue. “So now he wants to see us.”
“He sure does.”
As the princess turned around, Mike slapped his hand against his holster letting Andrew know to follow him. Both entered the castle with their guards up as this would finally give them a true explanation to why they were summoned into this world to begin with. For Mike this was a chance to gain an answer to why he had to leave the dead behind; burying them was something he would never be able to do, and all he had to honor their legacies were the cold steel tucked away in his plate carrier. Every second they ventured through the castle, an air of unnerve surrounded them like someone had casted a spell. Any guards, maids, butlers, or other staff had all, but vanished no doubt to prepare for the grand meeting that was to happen within the next ten minutes.
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It wasn’t a long walk to the large wooden doors that just hid the throne room as described by Leccamaradel, but as they approached, the remaining members of Task Force Spare had turned around the opposite facing corner. Exchanging silent greetings, Sergeant Malkovich walked over with two rifles in his hands. He handed each weapon off to their respective owner, then readjusted his assault pack as he moved to the rear of the group. Brushing his hand over the weapon he was given, Mike noticed that the entire thing had been delicately cleaned. Long were the splotches of dirt and cacked blood, and now what remained was the scratchy paint job that covered the surface.
Flanking the soldiers were none other than Captain Orwell and a platoon’s worth of knights and swordsmen. Looking over his shoulder, Oliver grit his teeth as he watched the wary and violent gazes these men set upon his troopers. His thumb instinctively moved over the fire selector of his carbine and flicked it too fully automatic. He wasn’t going to give any of the sword-wielding soldiers a second’s chance if this were to escalate.
Approaching with heavy footsteps, two heavily armored men grasped onto the large handles of the throne room door and heaved it open. Their movements echoed throughout the empty halls and any noise that was held within the grand room suddenly went silent. Stillness was all there was, and with no other choice, the survivors of Task Force Spare stepped into the room with the intention of discovering the truth behind why they were here in this seemingly fantastical and old-aged world. And the world just beyond was revealed; beams of light peered through the stained-glass windows and reflected on the silver and golden ornaments strung around the entire room. There in the center sat an older man, his wife, and a young male. They were all wearing regal clothing comparable to that of what King George the III may have worn, and as they walked further into the room all eyes present were set on these other-worldly “Holy Knights”.
Naturally falling into a serpentine formation, the foreign men watched every approach as Princess Leccamaradel and her troops followed behind at a steady pace. The king arched an eyebrow as he lowered his left hand and straightened himself. By this time the leader of these soldiers had called them to a halt by raising a single fist. Unlike those he had seen before, these men were disciplined, tuned to the realities of war. They were nothing like those Heroes that Yondel had called upon before.
“Holy Knights from beyond, allow me to welcome you to the Kingdom of Yondel,” The king looked down upon the soldiers in front of him as he growled. “We have been awaiting your arrival for some time.”
Oliver took a short and heavy breath as he looked to either side of the throne room. Knights remained in their place wearing their prestigious armor and weapons, while a collection of unknown men and women in large brown cloaks hid amongst the crowds of politicians and other noteworthy individuals. The captain was a bit dumbfounded on how he should proceed. His training and experiences in life had never led to a direct conversation with someone of true royal blood, though he suppose he could draw from his previous conversations he had with members of the U.S. president’s cabinet and the Vice President.
Moving in a synchronized fashion, Lecca and her knights instantly placed their right hand over the center of their chests while bowing.
“Your highness,” Oliver began wary of his words, “I understand that your nation has summoned us, but for what purpose I am not aware of.”
“Indeed. Only in times of crisis does this grand kingdom chose to summon either Heroes or Holy Knights. With our current armament I have personally made the decision to bring you all here to assist us in our, troubles.”
At least now Oliver and his men had an inkling to what they were supposed to do here. They didn’t have much information due to lack of intelligence and access to the outside world, but to summon soldiers to deal with “troubling” scenarios, it seemed an armed conflict either existed or was to arise within the coming months. Oliver bit his lip in anticipation. His men would be at risk once more.
“Ah, pardon me for not introducing myself. My name is Aldrecht Spell Shaldrecht. As you may know I am the king that presides over these lands. You all may be scared, confused, unnerved, but fear not, a great deal of Holy Knights have set foot in these lands to serve a greater purpose, and thus, I expect you to pursue such ideals.”
“Captain Oliver Thompson,” Oliver introduced himself in a natural manner. He was trying to bide time for the mission to be revealed. His Rangers had been trying their damn hardest to uncover any sort of information that would help them understand what in the hell they were going to walk into. For now, they were sailing blind, but this would be fatal if they allowed it to progress any further. Though the skin and blood they looked at and witnessed may be the same, these humans held otherworldly powers that made the men question if they could even be described as a normal human. Then again, they themselves could be the foreigners in this brave new world. It was more than wise to pick his words carefully. “To my right is 1st Lieutenant David Andrew, he is my second.”
The king merely hummed at the introduction of both commanding officers of the group. His eyes momentarily flashed to Princess Leccamaradel but he stayed his words as he rose from his seat and began to descend the steps and move forward towards the eight. Trailing behind him was two high ranking RGs and a younger boy which the Rangers presumed to be his son due how the boy seemed to be a mirror image of the king within his slim frame and golden blonde hair. The four stepped into a beaming ray of sunlight, and just as the king stood before them did Captain Oliver and his men truly understand that the king was a monster; he easily stood an extra foot over their tallest squad mate, Malkovich. The sergeant was six-foot, but King Alrecht easily reached around six-seven. Intimidation was something that rarely passed by the U.S. service members, especially when considering possible foreign adversaries, but this single man put all the riflemen on edge and put an aura of mistrust. The king observed the reactions of all the men before him. As he scanned left to right, his eyes landed on Mike who held a face of indifference. That alone let the man’s eyebrow arch in amusement and interest.
“You are all truly strange men. Your nation must be wealthy enough to provide you with gear well beyond our basic comprehension. Those brown, odd-looking muskets to the cloths that shed natures colors, I would hate to enter a conflict with such a practical and effective military.”
“Listen,” Oliver seemed bothered. He pinched the bridge of his nose and mutely complained about not being ready for this level of “diplomacy”. He steadied himself as he brough this temperament under control. It was not worth pissing off the only person that could help them in this dire time of need, and he sure as hell wasn’t going to let his emotions put his squadron into jeopardy. That wasn’t something he could do to them after they had survived the impossible including the endless white void that all only seemed to recollect a spec of. “With respect your highness, we were essentially locked in a war, and I have the feeling that you are asking us to fight another but without the backup of my fellow soldiers and the gear they can bring. You’re asking us to do something that could very well be impossible, I don’t know if you notice, but we can’t use that magic bullshit everyone in your world seems so capable of using.”
Without hesitation one of the guards moved his hand near the sheath hanging off his hip. It seemed a nerve was struck with Oliver’s words, but he needed to press just enough to get the truth and to make a proper decision that would determine the lives of his men that were already in limbo. In a similar manner, the captain’s squadron all tightened their formation and watched each knight practically surrounding them.
“I do not expect submission. That would be foolish of me to assume that you would swear your loyalty to the throne,” King Alredcht narrowed his eyes as he adjusted his approach, “There can only be a soldier if there is a war to fight. I do not intend for you to fight our war, but at the very least I would be humbled if you gave proper insight to fight something we, the people of Yondel prepare to fight a threat that has not been seen in ages. A shadow war is brewing, and only the power and intellect of a Hero or a band of Holy Knights can truly hope to stop the world’s greatest enemy, the Demon Lord and his unyielding legions of monsters.”
“What the hell?” Anthony whispered. After his words the entire room went silent. The hushed words exchanged by the VIPs to the side of the throne room stopped and Oliver held his breath as he tried to understand what the king said. Repeatedly replaying the words Oliver chewed on the inside of his mouth. Demon Lord. That was the title that was spouted and the connotations behind just those two words held more meaning than the captain could ever hope to understand. Was this individual similar to that of some political entity that oversaw monsters from common fantasy on Earth, or was this person capable of magic unlike any other that the Kingdom of Yondel would find hard pressed to beat? If the latter, then why summon him and his Rangers to begin with. They couldn’t fight magic, at least not in the traditional sense that these people were used to. If the former, then why not use a “hero” to complete this mission. It would be better press to use an individual that is held in a better light than his current status as a “Holy Knight” seemed to be.
“Captain?”
Turning to Jacob Jacob’s voice, Oliver let out a silent sigh.
“This is—what you’re asking is an undertaking that not even the most capable soldiers I have ever met will be able to accomplish alone. If you are asking us, even with our technological advantages and knowledge on critical military doctrine, to fight something without support, let alone fight against some Demon Lord and his army, then you were mistaken to not summon a hero that can pull this off.”
Oliver bit his tongue as he awaited the king to answer.
“Naturally compensation for your actions, much like the heroes, will be available,” Being dismissive about Oliver’s worries and dancing around the topic put the captain in an unknown spot with the king. “You will have the full support of the royal military, and every resource we can muster to assure victory can be achieved. All we ask is for you to spearhead this assault and help this kingdom in dire times.”
“You should know that the second a chance to leave this place is presented, we are going to take it.” Stepping forward before Oliver could continue negotiating, Andrew interrupted his CO. This would normally get him in hot water, but Oliver bided his frustration as he let the junior officer go for the truthful words he said.
“It is only natural. You all may leave; we will speak at another time.”
Shocked at the sudden out the king had just given he and his men, Oliver nodded silently as he turned around. One-by-one his men followed, and Princess Leccamaradel allowed her men to separate to the sides forming to firm lines that would guide the men to the exit of the throne room. The last one to turn around and follow his fellow riflemen was none other than the man that drew the king’s interest, Mike. He gazed at the monarch silently behind his tempered and shaded visor. Only being able to show emotions from the small portion of his helmet that showed his mouth, the sergeant firmly pressed his lips indicating that something, one that was unknown to everyone present, bothered him. His gaze only seemingly turned to the silver-haired princess, and he lowered his head before turning and catching up to his fellow Rangers that were nearing the exit at a slow pace.
“Lecca, we will speak later.”
Conflicted with emotions that were not familiar to the princess, the maiden simply placed her right fist over the center of her chest and gave a curt and unrefined bow to the king, “Yes, your majesty.”
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Publicly Available Information: Intercepted Transmission 2 — Brave New World:
Look I just need you to listen. We thought Operation Silver Strike was going to be one of the last missions we ever need to go on. Target Brutus was supposed to be a means to an end. An opportunity to set things right on Earth, but not that any of that matters now. Here in the Kingdom of Yondel were just going to be puppets. That king confirmed some of my suspicions, but I don’t know what he has planned for us. A Demon Lord? What ridiculousness! We aren’t meant to fight an insurgency or conduct asymmetrical warfare with just the eight of us! That’s why we have Jacob Berets and their fancy ODAs. They know the ins and outs of how to train an army and get them to fight an impossible foe.
Sure, we ourselves have conducted FID. Back then it was a lot simpler when you knew the guy behind the gun, and he knew you.
We though that our old world would last forever. I still believe that. Just now, I find it hard to find any hope or the faith that we’ll find a way back. This situation has exploded and is well beyond any ROE we have ever been assigned. Here we are though, a single day later. Have we learned anything from Peshawar? I don’t know. Sometimes I feel like we’ll end up making the same mistakes that got us into this place int eh first place. Our job is to protect the United States, our people. We don’t have that anymore. I guess we’ll continue to fight until we all get killed, but then again when has the death of another stopped the mission?