Viceroy Paltai Amberell stood at the helm of his voidship, a victorious smile plastered across his delicate features. Well, he wasn’t a viceroy yet, but he may as well be. Ahead of him in the inky darkness of space sat a new world, undiscovered by any of the civilized races, and yet it teemed with life. His seers had identified it as a human world and gave reports on how their numbers were without end, something that the Tellask Empire desperately needed. The Orakh of this sector had united under a new warlord, Grosk. Or maybe it was Groksk? Something like that. Regardless, the Orakh were making a push against the Empire’s borders. Already five tributary states and two colonies had fallen, and the Imperial Court was not pleased.
They would however be pleased with Paltai. According to the seers there might even be a hundred million humans on the new world, and more than anything the Empire needed warriors. Humans didn’t make the best mages, being too short lived to actually have any serious accomplishments in magecraft, but they could fight adequately well. Obviously the average human was no match for an elf, they simply didn’t live long enough to learn the finer points of warfare, but enough of them could overwhelm even a superior opponent. Quantity being a quality of its own, of the Tellask Empire’s non-elven inhabitants, humans by far made the best soldiers.
Some of the more conservative forces in the Empire opposed the heavy usage of humans in the Imperial army, but Paltai disagreed with them. Humans were fine so long as you treated them with a firm hand. They were a shifty and untrustworthy bunch, prone to low cunning and churlish outbursts, but if properly directed they were valuable tools of the Empire. Of course, he reflected, the conservatives did have something of a point, almost 70% of the common soldiers in the Imperial Army were human. That was an awful lot of one race to keep under arms at the same time.
It was a boon however that the humans were a fractious and warlike lot. Although they didn’t enjoy their rightfully inferior position to the Elven leadership of the Tellask Empire, they were more likely to vent their displeasure on their fellow humans than an Elf. For some reason, minor shifts in their coloration and language were enough reason for the various tributary states to be at each others’ throats. No, the problem with human army units wasn’t desertion or rebellion. It was ensuring that your unit didn’t tear itself apart with infighting.
Paltai strode away from the glass viewport and approached the ship’s seeing stone. The Viceroy’s Pride, as Paltai had renamed it as soon as reports of an unclaimed and populated planet had come in, was a larger cruiser. Despite that, it only boasted one seeing stone that would allow the ship’s seers to target its spell crystals or view enemy formations from afar. Many smaller ships didn’t even mount a seeing stone, but the Viceroy’s Pride was equipped with three mana forges and its solitary seeing stone was of such size and power that it required the dedicated mana flow of an entire forge. Personally, Paltai credited the oversized seeing stone with the discovery of the new world. Already, the seers had focused the stone on the patch of space where the Pride would be teleporting in. They had stopped on the outskirts of the solar system to perform reconnaissance and after discovering that the new world boasted no magic use whatsoever, Paltai gave the order to jump.
The Pride had 300 Imperial Marines armed with the most affordable enchanted weapons and armor that the Empire could provide. Although disposable in the grand scheme of things, the marines’ enchantments and magic users should be sufficient to cow the locals into submission. If the Marines were insufficient, Paltai had the 25 Rangers of his house guard, elite Elven warriors sworn to house Amberell. Each of them had trained for at least 150 years before being granted such a prestigious post. They moved with speed and deadly grace that an unenhanced human simply could not match. The Imperial force would be heavily outnumbered, but that was hardly a new thing. In all past engagements between a mana-less foe and the Empire, the natives numbers were meaningless. It hardly matters if you outnumber your enemy fifty to one if your spell shields simply stop all of their attacks.
No, this planet was about to become an Imperial colony. The troops would want to collect some trophies as was their right, but other than that the goal was to arrive in a suitably intimidating fashion and convince the natives to throw down their arms. If possible, Paltai wanted to maintain the local governments as governing a far flung colony was an absolute chore without local assistance, but if he had to put some self-important human king to death to prove he was serious, so be it.
Finally, the seers relayed their report to Paltai. The coordinates for the teleportation had been set, and the space mages were beginning the ritual. The lighting in the ship dimmed as the magical seals hogged power from the forges, and Paltai took that as his cue to retire to his chambers and prepare himself for the triumphant conquest to come. Nodding to the seers and communication officer that stood on the bridge with him, Paltai returned to his boardroom and opened the chest containing his armor.
Reverently, he placed the armor on his meditation mat. The armor had been passed down in his family for over eleven thousand years. The pauldrons and greaves were made of mythril and etched with tightly scripted runework to increase his strength, agility, and stamina. The breastplate was made of mythril inlaid with mana stones and covered in depictions of his ancestors defeating dragons, demons and other beings of great power. The mana stones powered a high quality spell shield which, when activated, would protect him from most mundane and magical attacks. The helmet was only crafted from silver, a replacement when an unlucky uncle had been beheaded at the battle of Brot’Mattok over one thousand years ago. Even though the silver could not handle the density of runework or the same capacity of mana as the mythril original, it was still inlaid with spells that would translate any language, increase his senses, and allow him to slow his perception of time. Finally, Paltai removed the most important piece of armor, his vambraces. Fitted and created for him personally, they contained his attunement stones and seals. Without them, he was simply a strong and fast soldier, but with them, he could bend and create lightning and frost, his two chosen mana affinities.
In all, just the materials had cost five thousand Imperial Drak, enough to equip and pay an entire company of soldiers. Two senior Amberell family enchanters had labored over those materials for almost nine years. It wasn’t the most important piece of relic armor in the Amberell family, but then again Paltai wasn’t the Amberell’s most important son. With any luck, the events of this day would change that status. Securing a new colony of this size and apparent wealth would do wonders for his social standing.
Paltai began strapping the armor on, lovingly double checking every seal, mana stone fitting, and rune pathway. Halfway through the process, he felt the brief moment of disorientation when the Viceroy’s Pride teleported from deep space to the edge of the planets atmosphere. It would still take almost an hour for the force mages to lower the ship down on telekinetic pads, but they knew their business and there was no need for Paltai to interrupt his routine to give them duplicative and unnecessary orders.
Forty minutes later, he gazed into the mirror in his chambers. Clad head to toe in the stately gleaming silver of his mythril armor, Paltai looked every inch the part of an elven warrior. Nodding at his reflection, he placed the helmet over his brow and stared at himself through the crystal eyepiece. Activating the runes in his helmet, Paltai felt a slight drain on his internal mana supply. Not much for him, but enough that a non-mage would have to be aware of it. Now, he truly looked like a noble son of Amberell, stepping forth like from the stories of old to conquer the foes of the Empire and bring honor to his family.
The Amberell’s needed that honor. As the Orakh clawed at their holdings from without, their enemies within the Empire mocked them and belittled their ineffectiveness. Of course, if the Emperor had sent more troops, the Amberell could have held the line, but between the whispers of their family’s enemies and the need for resources everywhere across the Empire, no troops had come. Instead, the Amberell house guard and their retainers fought. Sometimes they held, but sometimes they were forced back, and over the last five hundred years a worrying trend had surfaced. The Amberell’s usually won their battles, but they never had the troops needed to reclaim planets form the Orakh. Instead, every loss became a new breeding pit for the infernal monsters. Even now, their house risked losing everything while the vipers of the Imperial Court whispered and belittled them rather than sending help.
Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.
Paltai took a second to enjoy the time dilation provided by his helmet as he turned to leave his chambers. Perceiving the world as 10% slower didn’t sound like a huge advantage, but in battle it could easily be the difference between life and death. His Father had often told Paltai that the time runes had saved his life just as many times as the spell shield himself. It sounded like an exaggeration as his Father was wont to do, but that did not mean that there wasn’t some truth to the advice.
Of course, he also had the personal runescripting tattooed into his skin. A series of swirling runes slowly inscribed in his skin over a year and a half while he was in a potion induced coma. The runes performed two major functions. First, they complimented his armor, letting him move faster, react quicker, and him swing his sword harder than should have been possible. Second, they contained a handful of prescripted abilities: an ice cold aura that would chill any opponent within sword range, the ability to fire a handful of ice needles at extreme speed, and a field of thunder that would shock anyone with the temerity to strike him. A fully armored and runescripted elven warrior was easily the match for any fifty humans. A fact that led many commanders to consider their human subordinates as disposable.
Five minutes later he stood before his forces. The twenty five rangers of the house guard were outfitted in similar if less spectacular armor. Veterans of unnumbered colonial campaigns, they checked their weapons in silence. Behind them stood the three hundred soldiers of the Imperial Marines. Mostly human, but with a smattering of amphibious Mispbar and bestial Lythtal, they milled about nervously. Although Marines were allowed to equip themselves if they could afford to, it was rare that one could afford better armor than that provided by the Empire. Instead, they were clad in standard issue steel chain armor with silver pauldrons that contained the armor’s runework.
Nodding at the assembled soldiers, Paltai felt that a rousing speech was in order. Something to get their blood flowing. Something to rouse their feelings of patriotism and greed in equal measure.
“Men and women of the Empire!” He shouted, his voice amplified by the runes in his helmet. “Today we stand ready to render a great service to our Empire and the house of Amberell!”
The rangers nodded, still silent. They had heard speeches before battle before and they knew their duty. The marines on the other hand quieted down and fixed their eyes on Paltai. He felt a swell of pride. His first solo command and here he was, about to render the greatest contribution to his family’s legacy of anyone in the last half millenia.
“Today we stand before that most sought after of targets,” he continued, “a world both rich and poorly defended. There are millions of humans living on this planet, and soon you will have your pick of that wealth, of their most supple men and women. Soon we will have another loyal colony for the Empire, and the soldiers from this colony will fight beside you as we protect the Empire from the Orakh hordes. House Amberell will finally have the soldiers needed to clear the captured colonies and reclaim them in the name of the Emperor. We will not have to wait to avenge those who have died on the front. No, soon we will lead that charge. We will push back the Orakh and fight them in their home systems, far from our friends and families. Today, we take our first step towards making our loved ones safe. Today, we take our first step towards victory!”
The Rangers led the Marines in a cheer. Paltai suspected that one of the sergeants had ordered the ‘spontaneous’ action, but he didn’t really care. He could see the fire in their eyes, the way their grips on their weapons had shifted. They were no longer worried about what was about to happen, their anxieties and worries about the battle to come forgotten. Instead, they were conquerors and they had the confidence to match.
The Viceroy’s Pride jolted as it settled into the soft ground of the planet. Paltai idly wondered if he could get away with naming it after himself. No, it was probably for the best if he was properly filial about the whole matter. He would name it after his Father. At least that way he could shut the demanding man up. A second later, a chime filled the bay and the door to the void ship fell downward, forming a ramp for the troops to exit over.
As was his right, Paltai exited the Viceroy’s Pride first. Tromping down the metal ramp, he stepped out into the harsh light of the new world and took a deep breath before wrinkling his nose. For some reason the planet smelled like fire and an alchemists’ shop. Around him, gleaming metallic construction jutted up towards the sky.
Before he could take in all of the sights, Paltai noticed a delegation approaching him. Behind them stood several rows of men in identical uniforms, probably a merchant guild of some sort as the uniform didn’t look like any armor he recognized. Further behind those men sat several large, squat carriages with a large horn jutting from the front. He dismissed the idiosyncrasy and focused on the man and woman walking towards him. The woman was in the lead so he presumed she was the leader, and the man trailing behind her wore a pensive expression, his entire demeanor submissive and deferential.
“I am Paltai Amberell and I greet you on this glorious day,” Paltai activated his translation rune as he addressed the woman for the first time. “Today is indeed a momentous day as it marks the first day of your incorporation into the Tellask Empire, rejoice!”
She stared at him in confusion for a second before stepping back and whispering to the man standing next to her. The man shrugged. She whispered to him again, and he said something back. She gestured empathetically at the man while whispering heatedly to him again and he shook his head. Paltai cocked his head, frustration beginning to furrow his brow. Behind him, the marines were in formation, their weapons in hand.
“My name is Jane Conway,” she replied, finally stepping away from the other man. “I’m not sure that we are interested in joining your Empire at this time, but we would be happy to discuss trade and-”
Paltai interrupted her with a lighting bolt from his vambrace. There had been enough talking and this human clearly did not know her place. No, an example always needed to be made and she seemed relatively important. By wasting his time and being annoying she had volunteered herself.
Her torso exploded as the lightning tore into her, and a sense of euphoria buzzed through Paltai as he absorbed a fraction of her mana. Behind him, the marines screamed a battle cry and charged, their spell shields flaring to life. Truly, a glorious day for battle. One where their ancestors would see them conquer this hive and return House Amberell to its rightful glory.
Then he heard a series of explosions, and Paltai was flying, his spell shield glowing a dangerous red from almost reaching damage capacity. He frowned. That was impossible, it could stand up to anything short of dragonfire. You would need an archmage to land a blow like that, and Paltai had not felt the telltale accumulation of magic that would go with the sort of spellcasting it would take to deal that much damage to the spell shield. Then he hit the side of the Viceroy’s Pride. The shield held, barely, but it was clear that it couldn’t take much more abuse.
Before him, Paltai saw a scene out of hell. His soldiers’ charge had been stopped by a rapid series of explosions from the uniformed humans. Apparently the rods they were carrying were some sort of ranged weapons and even with the speed and strength enchantments covering the marines, they were cut down like wheat before a scythe. The rangers acquitted themselves slightly better, their spells accounting for a handful of lives, but even with their supernatural power and grace, the strange ranged weapons simply fired too quickly. Many of the enemy soldiers were barely even aiming, instead spraying fire in the general direction of the rangers. Spell shields sparkled and failed as one after another elven warrior was silenced by the infernal weapons.
Paltai saw red. Everything had been going so well. He was going to be the Viceroy of this awful place, showered in wealth and women. A son of Amberell couldn’t let it end like this. With a bellow, he charged
Given his speed and the remains of his spell shield, Paltai almost made it to the line of enemy soldiers before he felt the blows. The shield failed, and it was like a hammer striking him in the chest: once, twice, and finally six times in the span of a second. There wasn’t any pain, but when he tried to take another step forward, the world spun and he collapsed forward. Suddenly, everything was cold and it had nothing to do with his ice affinity. Paltai knew then that he was going into shock and that without healing magic, he was going to die.
The last thing he heard as the world faded to darkness was the words of an enemy soldier, still faithfully translated by his damaged helmet.
“Can you believe this shit Roy? We finally get to meet honest to God space aliens and they fucking charge us with spears and swords. Spears and Goddamn swords.”
Their laughter mocked him as he slipped away into the next life.