0940 HOURS.
SATURDAY, 20 AUTUMNSUS 1441.
GLACIES, YONDEL.
Two plus hours had passed since the firefight against the Reavers had ended. It was only immediately after reinforcements from the Royal Guard division had arrived that a casualty check was performed, and a triage movement was made. After that specialty mages from the engineering corps were brought in to repair the throne room. Their magic was so powerful that it appeared as nothing had happened to the room, not that the destruction was widespread to begin with.
At the center of the throne room, the Rangers stood in a half circle with their hands all over the weapons they had brought along with them. Captain Oliver was at the forefront of the group; he was quietly conversing with one of the knights from the RGs. King Aldrecht was surrounded by his supervisors and medical personnel who checked over him and the princess who had the greatest number of injuries during the fight.
“So, what the hell was that?” Alexander spoke brashly as he reluctantly flicked the fire selector on his rifle to safe.
Oliver responded as he turned away from the knight he was speaking to, “Doesn’t matter. Is anyone hurt?”
“Nah, we’re good.”
“Double check yourselves!”
Dropping their assault packs and placing their rifles alongside them, the Rangers formed a single line within the room shoulder-length apart. Mike and Lieutenant Andrew walked down the line with the junior officer holding a piece of paper and a pencil in his hands. The sergeant performed a small-scale triage on all of his fellow Rangers, and by the time they reached the end of the line he was able to breathe easy knowing that no one within the squadron was injured. The last thing they needed was to be a casualty, especially when in the protective custody of the king.
Oliver watched this process with a chip on his shoulder. Giving into his curiosity and looking over his left shoulder, the captain noticed that the princess was watching his Rangers. She was distraught, mostly due to putting both the head of state and foreign soldiers at risk. Oliver could at least admit that she was brave enough to fight against the unknown monsters, but the fact remained that she had brought them into the throne room due to a careless accident spawned by the king.
“Captain, I am quite taken aback by your men’s tenacity when facing such a foe such as the Reavers,” King Aldrecht was low and proud as he closed in on the Rangers. “Reavers are the judge and executioners of this realm. Not many can drive away the threat they pose, but those weapons… it is clear they make the difference for soldiers of your type.”
Oliver grimaced, “Sir, we’re used to human threats. All those bastards took three-to-five to put them out of action. Those monsters took ten plus a piece.”
“That was a SNAFU,” Lieutenant Andrew jumped into the conversation making Oliver step to the side. “Those Reavers are capable even without body armor and weapons. I don’t know if we can sustain an engagement with them if they appear again.”
Aldrecht looked out of the corner of his eye; the guards and knights around remained tense. The lieutenant had a point, there was little they could do with their otherworldly technology against such a threat. Since his men couldn’t stand against such a foe, he couldn’t expect these Holy Knights to be willing to stand against the world’s executioner. Asking these men to fight Reavers was a bold task, but that was not why they were here.
“To King Aldrecht!” The echo of a long-lost crowd remained ingrained deep within his mind. His fists clenched in and out every five seconds.
It was hard to believe that he had fought for this kingdom’s future and here he was asking soldiers not from a foreign nation, but from an alternate world to fight his wars for him. He had worn a uniform for so many years and now to wear royal garbs was something he was struggling to adjust to. He and his party had won the war and even fifteen years after they had won the same questions repeated in his mind: Had they truly won? Had anything truly changed? They had eliminated pieces on the board, moved others, and added new players. There was a price to maintain society as it was built during the old ages. There was something, and invisible power, always watching, waiting, searching for an opportunity to test the kingdom’s persistence and endurance.
He was no longer a revolutionary. The deck of cards placed before him would determine the survival of Yondel, and if he made the wrong choice, the wrong decision, thousands would die if they breached the inner nations beyond his own. The kingdom was a barrier between the untamed, unknown Frontier and modern society as it had been built. Only one nation long ago had dared to rise in these treacherous lands, yet they were destroyed long ago. Part of him believed he had barked up the wrong tree; the increase reports and sightings of Demons and Monsters was abnormal, and the sudden appearance of a witch within castle grounds gave him reason to raise the alert level of all forces under his command.
Idealism and thoughts would only get him so far in this world.
“Your majesty, do you mind explaining what you intend to do with me? You make claims of sending the only princess to be a commanding officer for a unit on caliber with what the Rangers are! How can you assure that the men you task to it will be capable, let alone be willing to take on such a threat?” Behind the king, Princess Leccamaradel waited him to answer with a growing fury in her blood.
Aldrecht barked, “Did you not just throw yourself at the enemy, the Reavers, Lecca?”
“Yes…” She hesitantly said.
“Well then, Captain Orwell, I leave you to handle the Holy Knights and their briefing and evaluation.” Turning on his boots and storming out of the throne room with his escorts, the bumbling group of idiots in the center remained silent at the display that was just presented. For Oliver this confirmed some of his fears of there being a possible division within the royal family, thus, it would be easy to assume that his Rangers would be tossed around like a ragdoll for political gain. For the rest, this just cemented more anxiety about everything.
Oliver took charge as he patted his kingdom counterpart on the shoulder, “Aright! Enough standing around everyone! Orwell, we’re on your six.”
The crowd that had formed in the room began to slowly dissipate with a few select knights, guards, and soldiers opting to stay behind to ensure protection of the throne. With no other choice but to proceed to the next objective outside of the castle interior, Maximus led his group of knights that were flanked by the more rugged, earth-colored Rangers. The knight captain remained wary of the unknown soldiers; he was one of the few that had any direct contact with them, and he was being tasked with overseeing their education and evaluation. “I apologize for the king’s hostility, having to fight Reavers in his own throne room must’ve been quite the shock. Though I don’t think it will matter, you and your technologies seemed to be up to par against such outstanding foes.”
“Indeed. Have we properly introduced ourselves?” Orwell responded.
“Not officially.”
Stepping forward and walking alongside his counterpart, the Ranger captain offered a miniscule smile, “Oliver Thompson. Current commanding officer of my Rangers.”
“Maximus Orwell. Captain within the Knight Order. I oversee the protective detail that is assigned to Princess Leccamaradel.”
“Not the Royal Guard?” Oliver questioned.
“No.” Letting out a curt sigh Maximus slowed his pace as he glanced out of the corner of his eye to the Earth-born captain, “Captain to put it bluntly not many people know why you are here. Not even myself. The details behind the circumstances of your summoning aren’t even hidden in the underground archives and are instead mere words held by the king and his personal cabinet he meets with once a year. Before you were summoned, he gathered the cabinet and advised them of what mission you would be tasked with. Whatever it is, you have the right to refuse.”
Oliver nodded at Maximus. He could understand where the man was coming from, “I don’t know what he wants from us, but the least I can assure is that my men can both act as an outside force and a force multiplier. We just need to figure out where and how he is going to use us.”
“Politicians.”
Both men chuckled.
“Alright. Lieutenant, Malkovich, stick with me. Rest of you take a minute to catch your breaths, we’ll meet back on my ping in thirty.”
“Noted.” Simon said as he and Jacob skunked away from the group.
Anthony grumbled, “Don’t have to tell me twice.”
“Yup-yup.” Mike said as he continued his dazed walk towards the nearest exit. He had been listening to the constant conversations for some odd two and a half hours. Between the topics of emergency response, investigations, and talk of politics, the sergeant had listened to it all attempting to build profiles in his mind of the world he and the other Rangers had been summoned into. It wasn’t that he didn’t mind partaking in people watching or conversing, but after the dilemma with the Reavers his mind was overloaded and he needed a moment to a small breath and adjust his mind. He may have forced himself to accept the reality he was in; to accept everything that had happened since their arrival as fact was no ordinary feat. Though, to live in the moment seemed unbelievable, especially when facing foes beyond the concept of light and dark, life and death.
Passing down the corridors of the castle with the eyes of guards, maid, and butlers all placed on him, the sergeant quickly vanished through a small pathway to the outside.
It was still the morning; within the humbling blue skies that held both dusk and dawn, orange-yellow beams of light scoured the lands of Yondel and painted themselves on the distant cotton-like clouds casting shadows all over the land. What was the stuff, stale air inside of the castle suddenly became fresh and untainted as Mike found himself continuing forward towards an endless path that stretched well beyond the limits of both the castle and capital city behind him. Each step he made resonated in his body as his boots pressed down on the sharply cut green grass. Scanning the distant horizon, the golden fields shined in the light, and small dots moved in between the rows. These people were living peaceful lives. Was it uneventful, boring perhaps? Maybe, but such was an ideal life.
A small tingle inside of him reminded the few times he had felt such peacefulness when spending time with his sister in the grand pastures of the Midwest.
Such feelings were not to last. The last place Mike wanted stumble across had suddenly found him, a cemetery. Rows of headstones spanned in a small cornered off section behind the castle. It couldn’t be compared to the sheer size of the Arlington National Cemetery—the few times he had been there set the reality that hundreds of thousands had been buried there, all to whom made their sacrifice to their nation. The sergeant never liked visiting cemeteries, yet he was drawn the ethereal place. The small vines that crowded the surrounding walls, and the pristine, almost polished surfaces of each headstone made this area of death into a celebration of former lives.
At least that was what he felt when he stumbled across a single headstone.
HERE LAYS THE FORMER K— A—. MAY HIS SPIRIT LIVE ON FOREVER. FONS 1427.
This tomb belonged to a former king. Such burials were expected to up-held with the upmost respect and curtesy, here the king laid with his headstone marred by large slashes over the words inscribed. Mike felt a twinge in his heart. It was always imperative for those that went beyond the life of those buried here to maintain and remember their names. This was there final resting place, and even despite the doubt and reservations the sergeant had about this kingdom, he would be damned if every corpse, even the ones owned by demons, weren’t treated with the same baseline respect.
History shouldn’t be forgotten. Not when the future depended on the past.
It was ironic in a way; Mike didn’t know if the person, the king laid here had a truly great spirit. Every word he read could’ve very well been a well-built lie that was exposed when someone criminal drew a sharp gash over each and every letter.
There was another thing that bothered him. He was literate. This world used a form of English in both linguistics and writing.
Yondel was a nation in a seemingly parallel world to Earth. It would make sense that there would be some evolutions that were the same across both words, such as architecture or food stuffs, but the exact copying of a language was something the sergeant would never think possible. You could have all the earth-like cultures, or variations of them to come into existence. That was just how humanity evolved naturally. To have a language as complex as English be copied and pasted into this new world was a mind-spiraling thought.
If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.
Then again, why should he bother with such questions and thoughts? He still had to fight to get home…
Taking a bottle of water out of his assault pack, Mike opened the cap and poured the crystal clear liquid on the top of the headstone. Droplets of water carried the black, brown dirt down the sides and towards the ground where it would once more blend in with the grass and dirt.
Capping the bottle and standing up, the sergeant wandered even further. His steps were heavy, and his strides were long. There was no final destination, just an opportunity to see how much of this world existed before he was recalled into the great depts of the castle looming behind him like a shroud. Under the haze of the sun, distant patches of smog and fog covered the fields where crops where being grown. Based on the gentle golden hue that the sun grew on the land, it was easy to determine that the crop being grown was wheat, and that it was close to harvesting if not already based upon the scattered dots moving between the lines of plants. High above the blue sky grew, and the calm autumn-like wind blew over the lands as the sergeant came to a stop on the top of a hill.
He found himself enjoying this brief peace as he set his bag aside and sat on the ground.
It was not meant to last.
The compression of grass behind him caught his attention. His hands fell to the rifle sitting across his lap, and he remained focused listening. It was hard to determine if someone was hostile when you couldn’t look at them, but the way they walked and the motions they made could present evidence to if they would be hostile. Before he had the option to confirm if the person approaching him was indeed someone to take into hostile consideration, a bell-like voice call out to him.
“Sergeant Mike, have you chosen isolation to spend your free time?”
The voice was soft, and it addressed him in a kind manner. Turning around and looking up, all the sergeant could focus on was the silver hair that was fluttering in the wind. Princess Leccamaradel was hovering over him resting her hands on the brown skirt she wore. Her pale face was glowing in the sun’s golden rays. Mike was unfamiliar with the concept of a young woman having silver-hair with pristine skin. Silver hair was always associated with age rather than a smile characteristic of someone, let alone a princess. He had surmised that she had a condition that affected her hair color, but the realization that the princess had fully adopted what had happened to her painted a portrait that no one could simply put down on a canvas.
Her shining eyes fluttered to the side as she stood up and faced the distant graveyard. A mark of hesitation and somber overtook her lips as they twitched into a miniscule frown. Mike remained in place wondering if she had been watching him the whole time as he partly cleaned the marred gravestone of a former king. It made him wonder the truth of her connection to the throne and the current king. All his fellow Rangers had silently acknowledged it, but her family name did not match that of the current king. Was she the daughter of a disposed king? Or was she an illegitimate child that was recognized by the state as the First-Born Princess? He asked to himself. There were too many questions with not enough answers.
“Apologies Princess Lecca, I didn’t realize that I was being followed out here. I just wanted to catch a quick breath,” Mike explained fearing that he was going to be punished for venturing outside of the castle perimeters.
“No worries,” she giggled while raising a hand to cover her mouth. “I was more than curious to wonder why you decided to walk alone instead of staying with your fellow soldiers?”
The adorable giggle she made was more than enough to break the tense ice that Mike had raised. He still found it odd that a member of royalty was casually conversing with him. “Along with some air I just wanted to sort some things out in my head, remember we are from another world after all.” He responded with a half-forced smile as he realized what he had just said. “The most important part is finding out how we’ll be handled within the confines of both the king and the military.”
Putting on a curious gaze, Lecca walked to Mike’s side and sat down with a respectable distance between each other. “How so?” She questioned wanting to keep the conversation moving since it had moved to a more serious topic.
“To put it bluntly me and the others don’t know a damn thing about this world. We can act as force multipliers to a regular military unit, and I rather that we did instead of this taskforce bullshit, but we don’t want to be absorbed fully under the king’s control. It would be best of us to either be a special missions unit to act alongside specially trained soldiers or as instructors who will focus on creating new technologies and combat doctrines. It’s important for us to keep our identities as Rangers.”
“Identity?” Lecca parroted lost in thought.
“It’s going to become important to us. The others don’t know it yet, but the uniforms we wear and the gear we carry is the last link we have to Earth. Once we lose these, all bets are off.”
Mike was right in his own way. All the rangers had was the sturdy set of earth-colored clothing they had, but over time soot, dirt, wear, and battle damage would render them useless. This was further extended to the gear they had and the weapons they were proficient in. Lecca knew that the ammunition their specialty “muskets” used were well beyond the simple concept of a cone metal cone being fired out of a tube, and soon enough they would reach a sudden standstill if her kingdom failed at replicating such advance ammunition and spare parts for the weapons. Adding on to his perspective there was little they could do in the grand scheme of the kingdom’s survival against the Demon Lord. What were eight men supposed to do against an army of monsters? It didn’t make sense for them to fight such an unfair battle, yet they remained here. And for what? That she couldn’t not determine, not in the short span she knew the men, especially Sergeant Mike.
She turned her eyes to the man who watched the endless fields. He had longed removed his helmet and lowered the green shemagh he had around his neck allowing the wind and sunlight to reveal his short-cut brown hair, sharpened brown eyes, and the tanned skin he had below all his gear. Her eyes drifted to the base of his neck as he loosened his shemagh. A single scar began in the middle of his neck and continued down.
It was impossible for her to speak up. Even if she wanted to ask, she was cut off by someone calling out from behind.
“Princess Araish! Holy Knight Randall!” A young man with blonde hair and loose clothing trotted through the grassy hill and reached the top. He was a messenger, and it was clear he was in a rush due to his heavy breathing and panic-stricken face, “Knight Orwell has called for you both! You are to meet them at the training command post!”
“Both of us?” Mike stared at the boy as he raised himself from the grass. He towered over the poor lad as he stood tall well at six feet. Turning back to Lecca, the sergeant extended his hand to the silver haired maiden and flashed a kind smile. “Lead the way?”
The princess stared at his hand, “Of course.” She said taking his hand. The soft sensation of his palms was complimented by the small patches of rough calluses, it was comforting to be in such a trustful grip as she was hoisted off the ground, her skirt fluttering in the sudden gust of wind that passed over the hill. She held her hair in place as she let reluctantly let go of his hand and walked down the north side of the hill. “Follow me.” She said angelically. Noticing her motioning hand, Mike was quick to take his side to the right of the princess as he followed her back down the green fields.
Traversing the fields, Princess Lecca led Mike through to the entrance of the nearby forest. There they began to come across groups of patrolling soldiers and knights that moved around the perimeter. At times Mike would find himself staring at some of the groups as they were marching to a steady cadence or were singing songs all too similar to that of the typical Jodie’s he had learned himself as a boot in the army. Some things never change. He murmured in his mind as they continued towards the built-up bivouac no less than one-hundred meters to the front.
At the center of the large camp was a simple tent structure that housed both Captain Orwell and Captain Oliver. Nearby soldiers and knights eyed Mike as he continued behind the princess; they watched him with eyes of suspicion, guilt, envy, hate, and perhaps even genuine curiosity. It unnerved him, but in the grander scheme he would have to put up with it to make it out alive. Besides, he had grown used to such looks during his time in Africa. There was no competition to the looks he received now to the bloodlust some of the citizens of the great continent gave him and his unit when patrolling the vast deserts of the Sahara.
Approaching the entrance to the tent, two knights swiftly pulled aside the opening. The princess whispered a small thank you as they both entered the olive-drab command tent.
With her eyes adjusting to the darkened interior, the princess was quick to locate both Captain Orwell and Captain Thompson standing around a wooden table with several over soldiers and knights. They had come to a standstill in their previous conversation, and it was time for the princess to break the ice as she made herself and the sergeant by her side known to all present. “Gentlemen, what seems to be the issue to require my presence?” She asked in a business-like manner as she stepped to the front of the table and gazed upon the scattered documents and maps.
“Logistical elements have been a nightmare to process, and the units the king gathered are reluctant to proceed,” Maximus began giving a shortened brief of what had happened in the tent for the last thirty minutes. “Combative elements are still undergoing selection, though you will find that we have more than enough personnel to fill that slot. However, there have been some disagreements upon the implications of having the regular soldier cooperate with the Holy Knights.”
Stepping forward and taking the second given to process the information provided, Oliver wanted to share his opinion much to the dismay of the knights around that did not know him, “What he’s trying to say is that the king is wanting a taskforce sized element to take on a entire army.” He pointed one of the organizational charts on a scroll, “since some of you want my squadron of the front lines, it’s imperative we have the princess with us acting as our CO, while Maximus and the others acting as field officers that will communicate with elements in rear-echelon positions. We’re talking about changing doctrine, not fighting a war. Lieutenant?”
Snapping out of his parade-rest, the junior officer cleared his throat, “This of course is nothing more than a rough organization of what the king wants. He wants to create a taskforce, but to combat an enemy such as a Demon Lord, there would need to be multiple battalions and sub-divisions to handle such a major change.”
Letting out a thoughtful hum to the words of Andrew, the princess looked over the documents scattered on the table, and within the span of a minute she was able to formulate what she believed to be an acceptable response, “Captain, I would recommend you and your men to take a break. It has only been a single day since your arrival, and to ask you to organize something extraordinary is out of the question. It is imperative that you become aware of the truth of the world you now inhabit, including, but not limited to our adversaries, and all concepts and applications of magic.”
Oliver shook his head as he leaned over the table, “With all due respect, ma’am, your kingdom summoned my men here to fight a war that yours can’t handle. We aren’t green berets, so don’t expect us to learn and teach an entire army of how to fight, but the least we can do is give you the time necessary to secure a stable defense against this so called Demon Lord. I’m out of my element here, and I really doubt that we are going to be fighting some fantasy monsters, but we have to put faith in you, else we’ll kill everyone and fuck off.”
To the right side of the table, one of the more regally dressed knights let out a snobbish laugh as he responded to Oliver’s seemingly untimely reasoning, “I told you Orwell, these men can’t train soldiers let alone fight a proper war. How can we expect them to fight against the Demon Lord if they can’t even hold a sword properly, let alone have them remain dependent of those muskets of theirs? They know nothing of our culture, let alone our enemies. And know they show nothing of respect.”
“There is no respect in war, sir!” Lieutenant Andrew interfered Oliver as he barked at the man, “Where we come from, you’d be lucky if you didn’t get shot once you stepped outside, or the building you were taking shelter in collapsed due to artillery fire! The only reason we are here is to fight something that honor and respect cannot stand against, so let us do our fucking jobs and neutralize the Demon Lord without this infighting!”
Cutting to silence, the lieutenant stood back as Mike patted him on the shoulder, “You okay?” the sergeant asked gaining a rigid nod in return.
Ignoring the outburst from his subordinate, Olive continued, “I understand that there are some that doubt our abilities. However I am willing to meet you halfway to at least show that we can fight in our own manner. Will we convince everyone? No, but I’m willing to show that we will fight something that some of those here wouldn’t even dare to try and resist. Demon Lord or not we are here for a reason, and I’ll be damned if we remain locked in some sort of brig the entire time.”
“We have a course we use for our archers.” One of the more hesitant and lower knights spoke up breaking the tense silence that had overtaken the room after Oliver’s offer. “It is no less than a walk through the woods, there are also other targets than the main course that moves into the deep part of the forest.”
“We’ll take it.” Oliver said as he took out a piece of gum and shoved it into his mouth. Stepping away from the table and leaning to his right, the captain snatched his FDE painted rifle. As he slung in around his shoulder, the knights watched him silently as he patted both Malkovich’s and Andrew’s shoulders telling them that it was time to get the hell out of the tent. Lecca was apprehensive of the man wanting to throw himself and his fellow Rangers into the fray between Yondel and the Demon King, but she would be forced to relent as she held no true sway over what went through Oliver’s mind. She had accepted that this is what the man wanted, and there was nothing she could do to protect the Rangers in this reality.
Reluctantly, she chose to follow the men out of the tent. There surrounded by a large group of soldiers was a line of four carriages pulled by brown mare horses. It was eerie to Oliver as he stepped to the rear of the large convoy, it was almost as if someone had been listening in to the conversation, to be fair, they weren’t exactly the quietest. Though, a single nod from Maximus exiting the camp was all the Ranger Captain needed to know that this was their ride to the next destination just southbound from the royal city and the castle.
Soon all his Rangers stood behind him. And in addition to both Princess Lecca and Captain Orwell, the crown prince had appeared with a small escort. It was unexpected for a second member of the royal family to suddenly appear for what was perceived to be such a small examination, but there was a clear chip on the blonde-haired boy’s shoulder, and he wanted to exploit it for his own gain, thus, the sneering smile he wore was warranted.
Though everyone was silent, it was time to move on to the next objective. Beginning with Oliver and Andrew the Rangers began to climb aboard the covered carriage.
“It’s seeming your men are quite punctual.” Captain Orwell said sarcastically, “You’ll be joining myself and Princess Airish in the second carriage.”
As the men climbed on, Mike hesitated for a moment as a sharp feeling came over his gut.
“You scared of carriages, Sergeant? Get the fuck in.” Sergeant Malkovich said with a laugh.
“Don’t mind me.”
With an iron grip, Mike entered the carriage and soon after had the Princess and Captain Orwell sit next to him before departure.
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Publicly Available Information: Intelligence Brief -- File 3, Chain of Command:
In the Kingdom of Yondel, the Knight organization act as leaders, while common folk make up the majority of the army. The Royal family act as both military and civilian leaders overseeing all operations both foreign and domestic, while the royal court designate both resources and funds to the people and military.
Top Ten:
- King Aldrecht Spell Shaldrecht
- Crown Prince William Shaldrecht
- Queen Juna Shaldrecht
- Head of Royal Court, Alexander Von Lockhart
- Head of the Army, Michael Falkner
- Head of the Navy, Waterer Harold
- Grand Harbinger, Julius Zane
- Harbinger, Udine Oliver
- Grand Edict, Harkolo Milline
- Princess, Leccamaradel Emma Airish