06:10 HOURS.
TUESDAY, 30 AUTUMNSUS 1441.
BISHMARK OUTSKIRTS, YONDEL.
WINE WASN’T HIS FAVORITE. Mike missed his favorite bar in upstate New York that served the best moonshine and whiskey. Well, the sergeant wasn’t the heaviest of drinkers. Even with his unusual tolerance to alcohol, he never could stand the taste of most drinks. Even when he was forced to drink the “Ranger Grog” he nearly spit it out as soon as the liquid touched his lips. Sometimes he found it hard to be around his peers.
Though what did it matter? Five hours had passed since the nightmare was over. Mike could dream all he wanted under the veil of alcohol.
Today was supposed to be a better day unafflicted by the drastic events within the nightmare. The aftermath had longed passed and the horror had ended. Still, even sitting in a bed seemed suffocating and stressful. Thank you, Lord. Keeping his eyes shut, all he could be thankful for was that he was alone in a small inn. Laying on top, a thick comforter kept him in place. Bright rays of sunlight cut through the window next to him, and he used his right hand to block the light as set down the cup of wine that was left for him. He had felt sick earlier in the morning, and his captain was kind enough to leave him alone in the early morning, and dragged the other members of the squadron on a patrol before they made a report to the local garrison commander. And now, he felt that he had recovered enough from the headache and fatigue he had. It was time to start his day.
Removing his hand and placing it into the firm mattress, Mike rose from the safe grasp of the bed as he swung his legs over the side and stretched his arms left-to-right. Eventually finding himself standing in the silent room, he wandered to a small mirror hanging off the wall. With his fingers he felt the uneven and coarse surface of his neck and face. What he felt would not go unnoticed even to inattentive eyes. Reaching to his side, the sergeant took out a single folded blade and with a swift snap of his wrist, he began to cut away at the growth on his face. Soon enough he found himself putting on fresh clothes he had stowed away in his pack. Five minutes was all it took for Mike to be fully dressed, equipped with his gear, and out the door. The time he spent in preparation disappeared from his memory like the other thousands of times he had done it in his career.
There was something that bothered him, and perhaps that’s why he was moving cautiously down the street. Ariel, a child, was sent to monitor the princess in Bishmark. However, she was more than happy to accommodate Mike and his fellow Rangers with the necessary supplies and rooms for the evening, all on the government’s dime. As an American soldier, Mike knew that getting tangled up in foreign affairs was dangerous. It wasn’t as if he had the army to bail him or the others out. Not even the CIA existed in this world. The boogeymen of Earth were more than capable of getting an average GI out of trouble. He was forced to cooperate with the kingdom, not that it was all bad. The princess was more than willing to provide resources and inside information into the world, it’s just that this incident followed by Ariel’s arrival seemed to coagulate circumstantial evidence towards a larger plot.
With this attack the relationship between the Holy Knights and the kingdom would change. There was no other choice. Partaking in the defense of Bishmark, although small, had put the Rangers on the map for all to see. Though any information may have been redacted, the king now had the ability to send them out on missions beyond the borders of the capital. That was his goal the entire time, wasn’t it? Mike bit the inside of his mouth. King Aldrecht was aiming to gain complete control. First was denying the ability to share intelligence, then getting the Holy Knights involved with a conflict, finally, creating a situation where retaliation was a must. There was no way that the princess or Captain Oliver could negotiate a deal. What happened to the Crown Jewel would be an instigator for war, and the king had supreme authority over all military forces. By technicality, at least from what Mike researched, the Holy Knights fell under the Royal Guard, however it wouldn’t take much for the Royal Court to make a clause to change the organization. Mike needed to take notes, to gain as much information as he could. That’s all he could do for those in his unit.
“Welcome!”
“Good morning.”
Hunger had called upon the sergeant. Without thinking he had entered a small café still open. The owner of the shop eyed him carefully as he stepped up to the counter. Who could blame her? He had strutted in wearing military gear, and all of it was concealed beneath the large brown cloak he had on. It was as if he was looking for trouble with the way he dressed. Mike had no intention of antagonizing any of the locals. If he could slip pass everyone until he reached the Garrison Headquarters, then he would thank God for his stroke of luck. In silence did he picked a small custard for breakfast. He paid the necessary coin needed for the purchase, and a part of him still missed the convenience of just tapping a register with his watch to make a payment transfer.
Taking a deep bite into his breakfast, Mike enjoyed the sweet flavor of the bread and custard as he navigated his way through this new city. Slowly the surrounding area came to life as children roamed the streets, and men walked along side each other towards their daily jobs. It was almost as if what had happened the night before never happened. Something like this was always a wonder to witness as the people held the morale rather than the troops alone.
“Mike!” Someone had called out to him.
Now looking over his shoulder, his brown eyes caught a glimpse of silver. He turned his body fully as a woman standing just a half-head shorter than him gazed upon him with a bright smile. Princess Leccamaradel had ambushed him on the side of the street, and in an instant Mike noticed that she was wearing a light peach dress covered by a dark brown and red cloak. Her hair was tucked away in a messy bun, and several strands of silver hair fell over her right eye which she brushed away.
The most recent memory Mike had of the princess was not appealing. That night they were all covered in mud and blood and the stench of iron coated his nostrils, distracting him.
However, in such a simple place, she looked breathtaking.
I wonder what Emma would think. He shook his head. Now wasn’t the time to get distracted.
“Sergeant, I thought you were to rest in the inn today?” She leaned forwards in a cheerful manner. It was a far cry from her meekness the previous night. It was a wonder how she could recover so swiftly from what had happened. Not even those at the top, the Delta Force operatives could recover from a massacre in a single night.
“Well Lecca, being locked up doesn’t suit me. It’s not like the military police came after me.” He chose his words with care, and that was enough to elicit a cute chuckle from the princess. She understood the annoyance of law enforcement, even if they were the good guys. Her eyes were focused on the soft brown hue hidden within Mike’s iris. That color was something she could relate to; it was only a shame that the man before her decided to hide behind the safety of the issued cloak the military provided for the trip, and an unmoving, blasé expression. How can he be still in perfect condition after the clean-up last night? Lecca questioned his abnormally fine condition. She herself even took two hours to clean and awaken in the early morning.
“Where are you headed? Mind if I tag along?” Mike asked cautiously. He didn’t want to intrude in her matters unless invited. Her nation had been attacked, and he could’ve guessed she was heading to another meeting were it not for the way she casually dressed for the day. It was hard to presume what she was going to do, along with what she had already done earlier in the morning. But, if he had to guess, it was performing her duty as the princess and paying those affected by the attack with an unofficial visit.
“Say, why don’t we stop by the nearest tailor,” she suggested. “I need to pick up the uniform that Ariel brought for me.”
“I can do that,” Mike’s voice had lowered an octave. “But why would you need a uniform? Are we finally meeting with the Garrison Commander?”
“Unfortunately, not. Come along now.” Turning in unison, Mike and Lecca walked side-by-side down the occupied, and healing streets of Bishmark.
In the moving silence, Lecca pivoted her eyes towards the man next to her. Mike was just tall enough to force her to lift her head slightly. He wasn’t big by any means, but she felt safe in his presence—no, she felt safe in the custody of the Rangers. It was ironic in a way. The Holy Knights were acting more as protectors rather than soldiers under her command. In fact, ever since she was placed in charge, it was Captain Oliver that had been making the orders. She had been simply present as a liaison, something that she had done for her entire life. Mike was a person she could both work with on missions, and he was someone she could easily connect to even with their differences in culture. He had acted as the bridge keeping the two sides together, but now the princess saw him being like that of an anchor; he was a man that remained fortified through the toughest of conditions, yet he was stable to hold someone in place with a firm grasp. And, like all anchors, Mike had weathered more than enough storms. She found herself glancing at the scar that traced down his neck and towards his collar bone.
How many stories have you hidden below your chest? She wanted to hear them all.
“May I say something?” Her words suddenly escaped her chest. A warm feeling rose through her face. Mike nodded his head in silence upon noticing the flustered state of the princess. She composed herself before continuing. “I haven’t mustered the proper courage, but I know you are the first person that I should be telling this: I want to apologize for my nation’s misgivings. It should be a crime to rip those from another world into our own, and to have you all fight a war, not on behalf of the people, but to the king and his followers… I must apologize for what has happened.”
The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.
Is this induced by a lack of sleep, no—she’s honest, Mike surmised. He couldn’t remember when Lecca began to act more open to him. The few interactions they had all blended in his mind, but he was able to catch on to a few subtle changes in her mannerisms and how she presented herself. At times she seemed resigned for reasons he was not aware of, so this sudden apology seemed to be something she jumped on for no logical reason. Naturally, he suspected that there was something hidden deeper behind her words, but this was not a proper moment to dig. And it wasn’t his place to judge internal affairs. So, he just let it go. “We all have our problems with the kingdom. Lecca, we were brought here to complete a mission, and we’ll do just that. No substitutes can do what we do for a living.”
Just stopping next to where the tailor shop was located, the princess didn’t know how to respond to Mikes vague answer to her apology. Her hands clasped together. You have a mission to complete. Lecca had her responsibilities as princess. It was also her mission to lead the Holy Knights against the Demon Lord. There was no room for negotiation, the very same person that was fabled to return had attacked the Crown Jewel. War was inevitable, and here she was caught in the middle of the conflict.
This wasn’t the time to get distracted. She entered the store without sparing time to her now drifting thoughts. Over the next ten minutes, the world passed in a blur. She needn’t think of the couple that owned the shop, how they spoke to Mike, nor how the older woman teased her about walking with the Ranger. Within time she had come across the grey uniform that was given to all the officers of the kingdom. Stripping herself off her casual garments, the princess soon found herself in the restrictive yet comfortable uniform. Her rank was displayed on the sleeves, her unit insignia was displayed on the lapels, and the two awards she had received during her service hung as specially colored cords on her left shoulder; one was for her service at her current rank, and the other was for her unit’s accommodation for valiant service during a combat operation within the kingdom’s borders.
Her valor was now under the watch of the kingdom’s founder, Sternlicht Spring. The great hero of old watched upon her and sergeant Mike as they walked along the main road that led towards the city hall. Breaking through the scattered clouds above, sunlight kissed the still functioning commercial district of the city. Flocks of women strolled down the street as they went shopping, and large wooden carts held merchandise that was guarded by hired mercenaries. Even in the waning memories of the previous night, the princess was reminded of the tenacity her people held and their ability to carry out their normal lives under such abnormal circumstances.
Approaching the entrance to Bishmark’s city hall, Mike was the first to visibly notice the four guards standing waiting for them. Standing at just over six feet, the guards were as tall as they were trained and muscular. Not even the prowess of those that made up the Ranger battalions could stand against these men in physical aspects. Most of the regiments contained men that stood just at 5’10, and they were more lean than mean. It is as if these guards had spent their entire careers in the gym working out all the time until they were called for active deployment. One could say it was a simple miracle that their clothing fit them comfortably, and complimenting their choice of cloth was the finest, most parade-ready armor that could ever be found. The metal shined clearer than most SNCOs shoes, and their clean-cut hair and facial features made them blend into one another.
Mike couldn’t slip pass the rough men without drawing their attention. He was wearing camouflaged fatigues with all his gear concealed behind the cover of the large cloak he had. Compared to the forest it was impossible to blend into the urban city environment. Instead of shined armor and decorated sheaths, his rugged rifle held scratches and the paint was beginning to be chipped off day-by-day. His plate carrier was fraying, and parts of his fatigue would eventually fade due to constant exposure to the field and the constant washes that would be necessary to keep his gear hygienic. In addition, pouches lined his chest and belt all carrying different grenades, tools, and medical equipment. Still, with all the gear he had, it weighed thirteen kilos. That was less than perhaps even the metal plates the guards wore.
“Chieftain Arish!” Walking out from the main entrance, a man and his aide stepped outside with the man waving over Lecca and her Holy Knight. The guards beside the two snapped their right arms over their heart, a common salute amongst Yondel’s troops.
Letting the excitement and love she held close to her heart slip away, the princess’s face scrunched due to the frustration and anxiety that was building in her mind. Turning his head slightly, Mike caught on to the change in pace Lecca presented. Glancing back at the two that had just exited the building, he wondered what had happened to cause such a hostile environment. “His name is Norman Quartz. He is the mayor of the city.” Lecca kindly informed the sergeant of who she was so unhappy to see. The man before them had played his part in organizing the defense of Bishmark, and he was the one to rally the common workers and citizens to help reconstruction efforts. Tension between the princess and the mayor was built long before the attack, Mike surmised that much. Both held a begrudging respect for each other.
“What’s this about? Is this related to a report back to the castle?” Mike inquired.
“Mayor Quartz has jurisdiction over this city. He is the one to file for damages and make a call for arms to the Royal Court.”
“So, he isn’t exactly our ally?”
“Ally is a strong assumption, Holy Knight,” Mayor Quartz walked just in front of the sergeant. “My job is to provide safety for my people. Anything that happens within these walls ultimately are authorized by me and my staff. We also hold the responsibility of seeking revenge for anything that happens. I am not your ally, but neither am I your enemy. Remember that for the future.”
Lecca groaned, “It seems that everyone knows of the current Holy Knights existence. There was a gag order on all non-essential personnel to the war effort.”
“People talk, and now I get to see other-worldly soldiers with my own eyes. It is not every day that people dressed differently from the average man roam these streets.”
“Well, I hate to break it to you sir, but we are dressed for a natural fighting environment, not an urban one. Still, we can wear these from house to house. Nothing wrong with a bit of color while kicking down doors,” Mike said with a deadpan face.
“Indeed,” Mayor Quartz forced a smile at the young soldier. “It is a miracle that you appeared in time to alert the garrison of the sudden attack. Your efforts—even if we sustained damages, prevented the loss of hundreds of lives. I will put in a good word to the Grand Harbinger of your efforts, and that will convince the king of the mission to the frontier—”
Lecca grew furious and let go of her composure, “You can be tried for treason!” He wasn’t supposed to learn of the mission!
“Please, princess, we are all friends here. You make it sound as if there is a spy within the walls of the grand capital,” The mayor’s aide chided. She turned around and motioned for everyone to enter the hall.
“What type of Cold War shit is this?” Mike shook his head. “I’m not going to stick around if someone like Jack Ryan suddenly appears.”
Lecca opted to ignore the sergeant, “The information you have just dared to spout was leaked by a source within the military or the Royal Court. Such reliable information, one that reveals that plans for the Holy Knights isn’t something that the average officer or politician can get their hands on. I can believe that the necessary action for me to take is to remove your head and present it to King Aldrecht. I am no judge, but if you are to blackmail my men, there is no other course of action. You have a wide nest of rats within the city’s underground network. There is little you can gain from helping us, so why show that you possess such insight? It would be much smarter to sell such information to the black market and maintain power over your city.”
“Princess, I am nothing more than a businessman and a protector,” the mayor announced as he opened the doorway to the private conference room in the city hall. “It is my responsibility to address everything that enters city limits, and the government is moving to my thin side! Any spectacular threats mean nothing!” His response was sharp. It was a calculated move.
“Intelligence is something that can make or break an operation—” Mike was cut off by Quartz’s assistant.
“Holy Knight, our people have been locked in a shadow war against the Demon Lord and the criminal underworld. This is not the first time we have been attacked, and it certainly will not be the last. We have survived massacres and those that wish to do terror against the kingdom’s subjects. If mere words and ink on paper is enough to ruin everything the king has planned, then it should speak volumes that the hundreds of civilians and men that died all died for nothing. To stop such things, it is ultimately up to the people to take arms against these threats and remain capable of surviving without the king,” she snarled stating only facts. “Do not tell me that your civilization has not faced such challenges! If so, then we are reassured that your summoning was a waste of critical resources and that our lives are condemned to end.’
“We have. Is that even a proper question?”
“So, you have experienced such a massacre, Holy Knight Randall.”
“Not at first glance. Though what happened in Africa, and what happened to my fellow Rangers are things that I can’t forget. You brought us here, United States Rangers—we will bring blood if the handcuffs are removed!”
“And how will—”
“That’s enough!” Mayor Quartz ordered.
Biting the inside of his mouth, Mike went silent as the radio on his chest buzzed to life.
“Randall, radio check,” The distorted voice on the other side belonged to Lieutenant Andrew. It was perfect timing as the sergeant was looking to break away from the confrontation that was happening between the princess and mayor.
“Mike here. I’m with the princess at city hall.”
“Gotcha. Captain wants all of us, including the princess, to rendezvous at the barracks. Airel has just notified us of transport heading back to the capital. Get back here ASAP.”
Looking over his shoulder, the sergeant spotted the princess providing a curt nod. “Yup-yup. We’re moving now, out.”
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Publicly Available Information: Profile Database 4 — Emma Tia Randall:
Emma Randall is a secretary within the Domestic Incidents Office of the United States Department of Justice. Compared to her younger brother Mike Randall, Emma is of average height and build and has dirty-blonde hair styled often reaching beyond her shoulders. She has dedicated her time in the DOJ for her five-year career.
Being born a year earlier than her younger brother, Emma had developed a mother-like affection for her sibling during their time growing up. She had always had a soft and genuine personality, though she is known to be stern when responsibilities are prominent. Though unknown to her, Mike has undertaken her as a mentor, and he shares many traits of her personality.
Even with her brother choosing military service soon after dropping out of college, she remained supportive in all his choices.
Official law enforcement records shows that Emma had killed a would-be-murderer in a self-defense shooting. However, with the incident being swept under the rug by district attorneys, little is known how she retained her position within the government or how she gained top-secret clearance.