Eodem: A Rifle And Sword Adventure 42 Chapter 42: Exordia Bellum

Walking around his Hotel Suite in the Imperial Hotel of Tokyo, he screamed at his closest confidants in attendance including Prime Minister Bousquet himself who came rus.h.i.+ng out of Switzerland to personally deliver and console the Otherworlder Prince of the incident. Clovich turned to the Holographic images of his Council of Administrators who were left at home to see through the day to day operations of the Princ.i.p.ality in his absence. They were also Governor White who helped arrange this emergency meeting on the Metanet Video Conference had brought them all on the line.

The Prince kicked and screamed as he tossed every valuable piece of décor and furniture in his luxurious suite until his room became vandalized by the act of barbarism the Otherworlder brought forth. He couldn't believe at first that such a brazen display of 'Rea.s.sertion of Authority' by his Liege Masters would do such a heinous act. But with the veracity of the shocking news now unquestioningly factual thanks in part to several prominent citizens of his Princ.i.p.ality speaking up of their plight that brought a wave of distraught amongst the people in the suite over the sheer amount of damages done. Initially, after personally seeing with his own two eyes the Federation of Earth's marvels, Clovich wanted to gather a few gifts from Earth to be sent to Emperor Uldin and his court of the imaginable prospects of a partners.h.i.+p between the Empire and the Earth and how both of them living together would be mutually beneficial. With all of those taken care of the Empire of Man will reach a new level of prestige the likes of which can humble venerable Elves and the splendorous civilization of the Yujegong Fox people in their prime! With Federation resources and the Empire's Magicks a great new age can happen with them together in friends.h.i.+p. But oh, those plans are for naught by the news of his beloved Tyr Rian being devastated by an attack by said Master he had served faithfully as their easternmost enforcer.

Governor White reported that over half of Tyr Rian had been burnt down no thanks in part to Rogue Mages specializing in Pyromantics being amongst the ranks of the Grey Order Adventurers. Over about a 110 of the Prince's subjects had perished alongside 33 UFE Colonists, half of them being young children. In terms of material damages, about 15 plots of land within the Princ.i.p.ality, accounting of less than half of all property plots in Tyr Rian had been burnt down by the raid. Economically it is a mixed between several artisanry houses, townhomes and several administrational offices that answered to him or the Empire.

And all for what?

A Prophecy that talks about the Empire's destruction by the hands of the Otherworlders? So, they preemptively struck first!?! Don't they actually understand who they are messing with!! He knew that the Empire can be arrogant at times especially to those they deem uncivilized as them but for them to do something like this? This was unforgivable that he couldn't believe that his Masters would stab him and the people of Tyr Rian in the back over something so unsure than the oracles of a comet that could mean so many things within the imagination of just ONE person's interpretation.

"Show me again… show me her again…" Clovich fell down to his knees and shredded a torrent of tears.

"You know already en---" Governor White tried to push to conversation forward as the Prince was stalling himself on the damages rather than finding out how he can move forward but he was interrupted.

"I SAID SHOW IT TO ME!" the Prince demanded.

Reluctantly, Jeremy conceded as he grabbed his tablet and played the traumatizing images of the damages, material and human back to the Prince. There were bodies, injured, the anguishes and the ebony color of burnt wood that flooded Clovich's eyes once again as he and those of his entourage fell down into a despondent state. Yet worse of all is when Clovich saw his beloved sister, once the bright star of his life in this cold and grueling world be reduced to a comatose Sleeping Beauty on a Hospital Bed with bandages that covered her once fair face from the sinister blow she had received during the attack.

The Prince of Tyr Rian screamed so loud that the gla.s.s window behind where Prime Minister Bousquet stood upon reverberated. Clovich tore his clothes and lashed out to everything he could grab to be made upset of in the room from furniture, décor and even the Flat-Screen TV. Like a rampaging bull kicked, toss and punch every fragile and expensive piece of décor and furniture in his expensive Tokyo suite. Gla.s.s shattered, wood splintered and fabrics violated as the prince melted down to a rabid dog, a far cry of his once regal self.

"Prince Clovich!" Prime Minister Bousquet coughed for the Otherworlder's attention.

He had strafed to the side and took cover by the suite's closet as the Prince vandalized his expensive hotel room. The prince, red-eyed with a seething broth filled with the stock of anger and despondency locked eyes with the Grand Leader of the Federation, a feeling of retreat could be detected when they faced each other as the Prince crawled towards the Prime Minister's feet and knelt down looking for alms to the G.o.dly being before him.

"Are you feeling any better your highness?" Frantses asked him.

"I am fine, thank you Ser Prime Minister." The Prince huffed. "I apologize for this… barbarism." He turned to the wreckage he created.

"Nothing some Tax 'refunds' can fix." The Prime Minister nodded with minuscule chide to break off some of the tension upon his smile. "However," he stopped himself and s.h.i.+fted the mood of the conversation to a more deliberative tone. "You do understand right now that your 'Masters', the Slaegians have forced our hands and refuse all our talks of diplomacy, they made their bed with this misunderstanding so we have no other choice than war I am afraid." The Prime Minister went straight to the difficult words.

"He is right my prince." Edmurl b.u.t.ted in with his sage words. "We served faithfully for the Slegians for centuries and this is how they treat us? Over what? Some stupid prophecy from those Quacks from the Academy! All pish-posh from those Quill-scrawlers. They slaughtered our people and burned half of the Tyr Rian on the words of that b.a.s.t.a.r.d Owynne? I cannot believe the College and the Emperor could be this foolish, reckless and inconsiderable like this!" he growled.

"Seems like you have not much to say anything kindly to this 'Owynne'? Who is he to you?" Frantses asked.

"He and his ilk are dumb old sack of bones beneath all those fancy robes I tell you! He and the High Council of Magi, the leaders of the College would steal other forms of magic or ban those studies they do not approve of." Edmurl curled his fist. "I used to be part of the College as one of their scribes and I get to know what the 'Grandmaster of Magicks' really is. A tired old-tart who can't take anything for a good answer outside of his own. His stubbornness of how 'right' he is, makes even the Elves look humble!"

"That sounds ghastly…" Bousquet commented.

"Oh, it does not stop there! He and the High Council is just another Senate I tell you where there more concerned of keeping their positions rather than doing anything to help their own kind like us Hedge Mages." Edmurl explained further. "He likely had mistaken our workings with you for us dabbling in the arts of Demon Sorcery! Surely, they will send out their Wizards and Sorceresses to blast all of Tyr Rian to rubble as we speak. I know this is hard of me to say to you my Prince but the Federation is our only safe haven."

Even if survival is at stake, such a radical idea from Edmurl was a concept that is initially hard to graps. It was essentially changing masters from the one you know than the one you just met. But even then, by the way the former lashed out towards the other and himself the answer was perhaps the most uneasiest of transitions.

"Your advisor is right. We all want to live in peace with my people wanting to make a new life on your world and your people wanting bring something to their current ones. If the problem is caused by us simply being together than we must solve this together." Frantses Bousquet nodded in agreement.

"What are you proposing to us?" Clovich asked the Prime Minister.

"Your Cooperation." Bousquet swayed. "In exchange for our aid and our protection you must now fall under our sphere. Your masters, the Slaegians no longer have your best interests at heart no more. But we do." The Prime Minister said.

"From the way you are speak your words milord, but you ask for our 'Cooperation' rather than for our servitude. They are the same thing." Clovich gave a pa.s.sing mention.

"I can a.s.sure you that what I am saying is that I am speaking to you as a Partner, not as a Master to your servant Prince Clovich." Bousquet explained. "In exchange for your… 'Native Expertise' in the land and your blessing in exchange for the ability to access your countries national resources, protect you from the Emperor's Wrath, and then help develop Tyr Rian. You know just like Emperor Meiji." Bousquet said. "But I digress, for now what is best for your people is order them to stay within their Princ.i.p.ality and not leave their homes until after this Crisis with the Empire is over."

"What will you plan to do with the Empire when you meet them in battle?" Clovich asked.

"Pacification. We will make them calm down, by the force of our arms." Bousquet said.

The Tyr Rianni Prince sunk down to the ground as he heard those grim words from him. It was going to be a war with Imperial Bloodshed once again.

"Do not act like that now Prince Clovich, you would have done the same if you were me. This is the best option for ALL of us." The Prime Minister reminded him. "We are to decisively stop this war that we all agree shouldn't have been made in the first place. With my speed and your subject's familiarity we can turn all of this around for the better of our mutual future." Frantses spoke to all the Otherworlders in the room.

"The way you speak of your Terms milord, being under the wings of you You-Eff-eee is much more profitable than the Empire, we and the rest of Tyr Rian will enjoy prosperity with you now." a Tyr Rianni official nodded of the radical idea for Clovich by the Holo-Conference.

"BUT MAKE NO MISTAKE!" Clovich raised his voice a.s.sertively, startling the Prime Minister. "Do not think of me as a Puppet, Lord--- Prime Minister Bousquet. The people of the Empire will not kneel to the likes of an Estroni like you but for me? I share their blood so it is only right that when you do fight the Empire on this campaign of ours that I take the lead." He said.

"I shall consider it…" Bousquet stepped back slightly. He had smelt a pitstop like this before, it was already risky pus.h.i.+ng through with this little upgrade in the Colony and the Princ.i.p.ality's relations.h.i.+p and already Prince Clovich as trying to a.s.sert his sovereignty from the superiors. "We can deal with the more pressing concerns of yours of modernizing Tyr Rian after we deal with the Empire." He reminded the Prince of the task at hand.

If this were much more simpler times, a few back ended deals and subterfuge would have disposed or lobbied the Prince to dance to their tune, but alas, the Common State Party's opponents would eviscerate him five times over for breaking the so called 'Prime Directive' that some sages specializing in Ethics would argue for. The Prime Minister do have to say, the Prince, being of a militarist himself, his knowledge working alongside the Slaegian Legions should be invaluable on how their adversary would organize. Intelligence that Major Holyfield and Colonel Polonsky would appreciate happily upon his cooperation with Operation Haymaker.

"I am not yet done," Clovich interrupted. "I wish to at first, just one chance to write a letter... an Ultimatum! To Emperor Uldin before you descend upon them to reconsider his actions. If he doesn't then you may raze him down to the ground like he did to my fair city." He vengefully requested.

"That can be arranged." Frantses smiled. "Anything else?"

"Yes, one more." The Prince depressed his tone. "The last thing I ask of you is that--- I--- beg of you for more one thing before we go through with this, that you please do not unleash that terrible weapon that makes the 'Mushroom Cloud' or your 'Heavenly Shooting Stars' on the Empire. As much I want to see Uldin and my former masters be punished for this hubris, I cannot live with myself to see Gliesia become like of Nagsack-kee and Hero-she-mah. I am still not able to get rid of those horrific images from my head!" Clovich expresses his dreadfulness upon referencing the various means the UFE could a destructive h.e.l.l upon their foes.

The visit in the j.a.panese History museum in Tokyo was an eye-opening experience for Clovich and his entourage. He saw how his patronized paragon; Emperor Meiji brought his country to the peak of civilization despite the severe disadvantage and amount of barbarian influence he had to fight off with during his time. He could understand that hint of reluctance when he a.s.serted himself infront of him so brazenly when they were talking about the terms of their very tendentious alliance. The visit was an insightful way to understand more about j.a.pan but it was that trip, Clovich and his officials understand why they should see the UFE in a more "G.o.dly" manner as for the first time, they see wars the Earthlings had endured throughout their entire history, especially the three World Wars that made the Demon Wars and some of the other dystopic conflicts in Gliesia compare to of drunken bar brawls and street riots. The destruction and greater amount of desire to cause it throughout the ages, these Earthlings were of a strange capability behind all of their opulence and senses of order and peace to be more than capable of being possessed with Widall the War G.o.d's Madness.

"I know and I understand." Frantses rea.s.sured him. "We only use it when for the last resort and we have strict rules of using the Nukes."

"Thidar be praised and may Uaris bless you Ser Bousquet… now that is settled, I would declare that in light of these new events, the Slaegians are lost cause now! After seeing what they had done and how overwhelmingly powerful and advanced you You-Eff-eee really are, I see that the only way forward is with you." The Prince agreed to his terms.

"Agir bien." Frantses shook the Princes hand. "We shall stand together, arms banded together."

"Then it is settled. I Prince Clovich, is declaring secession of Tyr Rian from the Slaegian Empire and joining the You-Eff-eee! For the betterment of my people and the entire Glisiea I declare from this moment onward a new age for not only the People of Tyr Rian but of all of the Empire and the Gliesia, the Tyr Rianni Amelioration! We will bring forth a new sun to rise on the Verden Valley and throughout all of my World." Clovich decreed.

Bousquet smiles as he turned to the Holographic Projector to see the optimistic cheers of Clovich's cheering subjects.

"Unité, Harmonie, Prospérité!" he said the Common State Party's banner to the patriotic fervor of the attending Governor White, Major Holyfield, and Colonel Polonsky.

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Faithleann huffed and puff in relief as his sword split in half the final obstacle in the Dungeon, a Frankenstein of a golem made of a.s.sorted muscles and bones of what appears to be a bear, a moose and appallingly several human parts. The abominable construct fell before him as the cowering Sochairfuil Necromancer cowered behind his phylactery of evil-make.

For his first ever quest he and his party consisting of Marchog Faughn, Petur and Karliah came to the small village of Egni to investigate a strange happening according to the local sheriff. There is a plague happening in the village that has claimed the lives of several people and the once lively town had devolved into a dreary hamlet that is shadow of its once vigorous self of an animal-husbandry focused town. According to the Quest board, a mysterious stranger entered the village months ago and had been making numerous strange requests to the mayor regarding about the deceased victims of the plague. It is said that the stranger requested for the bodies of the deceased at first that at initial glance, the mayor a.s.sumed he was just going to dispose of the bodies properly but then he started asking for livestock viscera, escalating to live animals before finally hiring out one of the village maidens to go work for him at his abode a walk away from Egni. In exchange for the Chosen One's help, the local duke in charge of Egni will supply additional men and resources for Faithleann's army against the Demonic invasion. It was also an opportunity for the Chosen One to also test his mettle in a real quest as he feels very confident and self-a.s.sured with two of the Grey Order's greatest champions by his side.

Upon entering the shady individual's abode, Faithleann in a rather dense display of his naivete shouted on the door like the tales in the book of how the hero would declare that his challenge upon the villain.

"Please wait for a moment while my master picks up the door." Said a magical voice that resonated by the door.

"I Faithleann Garmhaic! Knight of the Empire have come to strike you down you vile Vampire!" he said as he unsheathes his broadsword.

The Chosen One, with his blessed might kicked down the enchanted door with a forceful incantation that blessed him with t.i.tanic strength, tearing the barrier down with a mighty wail upon its collapse.

He hurriedly rushes down into the bowels of the home screaming a battle cry demanding for the Necromancer's head. He had unwittingly while causing a ruckus to all of the furniture of the place, set off several traps that while his enhanced agility made him easily dodge pa.s.s them to the point he never noticed he actually triggered them unwittingly left his teammates at the mercy of the traps payload from explosive runes, poison darts and even a spike trap. Thankfully his more experienced teammates knew of such traps and were already antic.i.p.ating something like this but much to their chagrin, especially the more tomb-raiding experienced Gold-ranked Adventurers at his side, he would rather disarm the traps than having to weave around them post-triggering. Even when encountering the Vampire's bone constructs that the young Chosen One displayed his fighting prowess, but without much plan to the concepts of teamwork as he would for a brief moment find himself fighting against three or four skeletal-guards alone. If it weren't for Petur Reikdorf hasting to his side, a skeletal-warrior with his rusted blade would have struck an easy blow on the Chosen One's overwhelmed defenses. The 'Faithful' Spellblade has to admit to his colleague Karliah, the boy was starting to get into his nerves.

After making short work of the guards, and a quick scolding by Petur and Marchog Faughn, the party breached the Necromancer's Inner Sanctum where they were greeted by frail looking Vampire with his contrastingly imposing Flesh Golem. Inside the Sanctum, the party to their horror saw a very macabre sight of pickled body parts in jars, vials of blood stocked to such a height that it could feed a whole coven of Sochaifuil, blasphemous notes that ill.u.s.trated on detail the vast amount of effects the Egni Plague had brought forth in vivid detail. It was all that obvious that the Vampire is turning the hamlet into the subject of his sick experiments!

"You Villain! How dare you place this plague upon the Village of Egni!" Faithleann pointed his sword at the cowering Vampire. His feet standing atop of the crumbled corpse of the Necromancer's bodyguard.

"No! You do not understand what you are doing you brats!" the Vampire hissed. "I am trying to save people not kill them! If you just let me explain and wait for my a.s.sistant…" he pleaded for his life.

"Oh? Care to defend yourself then?" Marchog Faughn asked.

"Yes! Let me explain to you what I am doing!" the Vampire said. "I grab some of the known holders of the Plague and with some Restoration Magicks I created a… weakened version of the tainted blood too…"

He reached into his desk and to the skipped beat of the hearts of the entire party. The Vampire wielded with him a crooked knife, freshly tasting of blood.

"Hiya!" Faithleann shouted, he didn't hesitate and cut down the Vampire with his sword.

"Wait--- No---" the Vampire's unnatural life faded as he collapsed to the ground. It was a Fatal Blow.

"Faithleann! What did you do!" Karliah scolded him.

"He tried to reach for a knife!" he justified.

"I have to say, yes that Vampire just did try to grab that blade…" Marchog Faugn backed up the Chosen One as he investigated the knife from the dead hands of the vampire. "And look its indeed tainted with blood."

"We were supposed to capture him however so that he maybe tried for his crimes." Petur mentioned the details of the bounty.

"But still Ser Petur, this evidence is d.a.m.ning enough." Faithleann added, gesturing his arms across all the sickening sights within the Necromancer's Sanctum.

He and Karliah could barely keep their fragile stomachs together the longer they stayed inside the room.

"Gaahh Just take whatever evidence that proves this one's guilt and toss away the rest." Karliah gagged.

Marchog Faughn, Faithleann and Petur nodded and began to carry off as many of the disgusting paraphernalia away. Research notes, the Necromancer's Knife, a few samples of the preserved body parts were saved to be presented to the local Lord and his sheriff to prove of the Vampire's guilt whilst the rest of the contraband were tossed away to rot and be washed away nearby a creek.

"May Neneth and Tivna welcome you to their Garden." Faithleann prayed to the poor souls whose body parts were trapped inside the preservative fluids within the Jar.

It was a rite to give piece to do those 'of incomplete form' a special prayer. If one perished in a very unrecognizable form, the soul cannot pa.s.s on to the Afterlife normally and remain still bound inside the mortal world. The funerary rite to correct this is to have whatever remains of their body to be sanctified in holy water before expediating the remains to a nearby body of running water such as a river, a creek or the seas. The legend says that all life used to come from water and that the Life and Death G.o.ddess with the help of the Water G.o.d Tolios reform the body part from within the earth through the waters that rooted and breathe life to what was once alive. It was a harmonious prayer that also signifies the Cycle of Life that all beings must one day go through (despite some people's attempts to defy said Cycle). Through this prayer, the G.o.ddess will return the body to its rightful owner's soul before it can be pa.s.sed off peacefully into the afterlife less they suffer in a Limbo between life and death as eternally sorrowful spirits who wail loudly for the justice of crossing to the otherside but unable to for their mortal forms were not complete upon their demise.

"What--- By the G.o.ds what happened!" a woman approached the Vampire's hideout, dropping a basket of meager groceries to the earthen floor and cupped her hands as her eyes teared in confusion.

She leaped herself towards the ransacked hideout but she was caught by Karliah and Marchog Faughn.

"What are you doing here lady? This is official Imperial Business you are intruding upon." Faughn informed the stranger.

"What are you doing at my Masters abode?" she questioned.

"Your master has been caught dealing with the arts of Necromancy and causing a plague throughout the region." Faithleann explained to her.

"Y—you! You are the Chosen One?" the lady asked of him.

Faithleann nodded, confirming the woman's hopes that the Hero could listen to her reason.

"You have this all wrong hero! My master would never hurt anyone. He is kind, benevolent and too reclusive to go out and curse the land… AND for what?!?" the woman made her case.

"Lies you wench! You are a Thrall to the Vampire Master of yours just like the rest!" Faithleann dejected her.

It was uncommon for Vampires to acquire outside help due to their nature of keeping within the shadows of contemporary society. But when they do, they would often use a spell that would mesmerize any non-Vampiric servant of theirs to do their unquestioned bidding called 'Enthrall'. According to Magic.u.m Codex, a written law detailing about the extent magic can be used in society. That Illusion spell was deemed Illegal to cast and the punishment is a hefty fine for damages and/or a period within a jail cell.

"Please Hero! I can prove it to you please!" the woman struggled to break the combined bindings of Marchog Faughn and Karliah.

"Calm down Peasant!" Faughn coughed.

"She is still under the Vampire's Thrall spell! Take her away and have her watched by the Guards until she returns to normal." Faithleann said.

"Allow me." Karliah volunteered.

She knows her way around such spells that revolves around duration and constant intoxication. With a flick of her hands she attempts to use her Magicks to reverse the woman's senses.

"What are you doing to me? Stop!" the woman struggled from Karliah's grip.

If it was like lockpicking a very high-quality lock, which said lock tries at it might to remain unlock, that is what Karliah could say when she tried and fail to reverse the woman's mesmerized condition. Whatever and however this Vampire had Enthralled her with, it must have been a very potent spell to keep her in line to his whims. The woman's frantic shuffles brought Marchog Faugn to the brink of losing his grip and bringing Faithleann and Petur on edge.

"NO! You are making a big mistake here Chosen One! YOU HAVE DOOMED US ALL!" the Woman tried to reach out her hands. But Faithleann, grabbing his rope by his pocket, la.s.soed the woman into a hogtie and boarded her atop of his horse with a gag on her mouth for good measure. Throughout all the time during the transition of his brutal act, he rough-housed the crazed woman with a few blunt strikes from the pommel of his sword whenever she attempted to sc.r.a.p herself free.

"That was a bit too much force of you Child." Karliah rebuked Faithleann over his heavy-handedness.

"Indeed, she's not like those Golems and Skeletons we fought back there. She is just less of your height." Petur added. Even he has limits when it comes to forms of Bystander Control, a simple yell and a mention of his name would have got many bystanders to back off from his way when it comes to any Grey Order-related business.

"I thought you were Adventurers you two?" Faithleann turned around to his seniors. "We must not delay for every waking moment; Evil continues to fester like an ulcer in the land. We cannot be dillydallying with this frivolous s.h.i.+te!" he justified himself.

"I am not saying we are dillydallying Chosen One, what I am saying is that you need to learn how to think before you act. There is a difference that separates the lower-ranked Adventurers from the higher ones. What you did was reckless of you, rus.h.i.+ng in and triggering all of the Necromancer's traps. You were lucky it was a delayed but still! You and all of us here could have died." Petur said.

"By all accounts so far, that woman you handled was by law to be innocent due to her unsound state of being Enthralled." Karliah added.

"Piffle! You two say that because you are jealous because the Crystal had chosen me to be its champion. I am blessed with Divine Protection by all of Impyrion!" he boasted to the Gliesian Pantheon.

"Watch your mouth boy! Being a Chosen One does not meant you are invincible. We are a team, blessed by the Emperor to protect the realm from Darkness. Remember what that Shaman did to you?" Marchog Faugn added.

"May I remind you that I, Faithleann Garmhaic, did all the work clearing the Vampire Hideout? Why are we having this argument when we must continue in due haste to Mounta.s.sone now?" Faithleann turned around and mounted on his horse as the three seniors of his were left low before him shaking their heads disapprovingly by his att.i.tude.

"Sometimes, I think that the Emperor knighting him at such a callow age was a mistake." Karliah grumbled.

"Give the boy some more time. I know many of Knights who were like him, even you were guilty of that Petur." Faughn said.

"I wish I could take that all back…" Petur regretted his youthful days of hot-headed rebelliousness.

"It is best we give him some more patience." The venerable knight gave his sage wisdom.

"Very well, just keep the boy intact enough until we reach Mounta.s.sone." Karliah conceded.

They mounted their horses and quickly galloped to the quarantined town of Egni where after an explanation of what had transpired, the submission of their evidence and one crazed 'Vampire Thrall'. The Village Mayor happily declared the end of the outbreak now that the source of the plague had been eradicated to the wind. Faithleann's party was handsomely rewarded with a generous stock (at least by a small animal-husbandry focused village could thankfully donate) of preserved meats and poultry eggs for their travels. There was still quite a long road ahead for Faithleann and his Army men to cover before reaching their Destination of Mounta.s.sone, where they would meet up with diplomats from the Dwarven Hold of Kur Faldhur to facilitate the extensive purchase of Dwarven Ingots.

On their way, there were more activities for Faithleann's Followers that they undertake from requisition quests to helping out the local Lords that he and his army pa.s.sed by in their lands. However, try as he might, whenever he put himself into the fray to display his Heroic status amongst the populace, for a reason or another, he always seems to get under one's skin, the nerves of those parties involved.

During one time, during a hunting expedition to gather some game meat for the camp, he spotted a lone Stag whose leg was stuck upon a suffocating leg trap meant for a much larger beast. Faithleann had though that if he had freed the Stag, he would have either its eternal grat.i.tude or perhaps transform into a Fey and bless him with some G.o.ds given boon that would boost his power tenfold but instead, all he received the Stag's two hind legs kicking him in the face before it limply scampered off before succ.u.mbing to its injuries. They still brought the corpse back to camp for some Venison stew but the Chosen One himself couldn't bear the insult of it.

Another time, when pa.s.sing by for his tour of the Eastern Provinces of the Empire, he undertook a quest to help exterminate a Giant Spider who had managed to burrow itself inside a burial mound that frequented a particularly Tivndevoted towns.h.i.+p. Employing the same tactics, he did back in Egni, Faithleann rushed inside the mound to slay the Mother Spider. He had gotten a mouthful of spider webbings for his haphazard approach and have unintentionally awoken the rest of the hive to scamper-scurry off from the burial mound now that their home has been compromised. A total of 9 of Faithleann's followers plus 10 of the Local Lord's people were killed with dozens more incapacitated via Spider Venom due to the resulting Stampede before it was burnt off by a few streams of Fire Blasts from the College of Magi demographic of Faithleann's army. But even then, after that mishap, Faithleann still had the gall to demand for the promised supplies the Lord pledge to donate to him without him considering about the loses he had taken which had infuriated several of his followers upon his insensitivity. The Lord short-changed his pledge by denying half of the promised goods and it took Petur and Findrum to drag Faithleann away when he tried to impose 'Imperial Mandate' upon that Lord before quietly galloping off at the first opportunity.

Another similar incident was when Faithleann chanced upon a Barony after the previous Arachnid incident where he was told that the land was plagued by a group of Centaur Bandits who have been stealing food stocks from the farmers in the area. Upon tracking them down, the Centaur Bandits were soon discovered to be a nomadic group of rogue Daosne tribesmen that migrated south clandestinely for better grazing grounds but due to the Slaegian's inherent racism against them, they were forced into banditry. At first, Marchog Faughn suggested that the most diplomatic choice was to hand over several of their supplies and then tell them to run away from here since he fears that confronting this roving clan of Centaurs would cause too much trouble for its worth. But Faithleann shot him down, saying that 'the Law is Law' and with his empowered Magicks tried to force them to give up their ill-gotten gains. A fight broke out where Faithleann savagely murdered several 'filthy beastmen' whilst the rest of the Clan fled away due to their superior speed. It however left a very bad taste in the mouth for many of Faithleann's followers upon the news of what had transpired. Mita warned Faithleann that the Daosne, are not the type who would forgive nor forget about such a crime against them.

Yet the last encounter they had undertaken before reaching their destination was perhaps the most infuriating of Faithleann's impetuous youthfulness. The son of a local prominent citizen of the adjacent region had begged for Faithleann's help in searching for his missing son who was spelunking at a nearby river and had never returned. Wanting to become a knight in s.h.i.+ning armor like the stories he read of them rescuing the weak and helpless, Faithleann tracked the boy's whereabouts. With the help of Mita the Crow's superior tracking skills, Faithleann's party deduced that the little boy shouldn't have gone too far into the river. After a desperate search for the child, Faithleann's party happened to chance upon a Goblin encampment deep within Slaegian Territory. Greenskins such as these pint-sized people would often roam around the Slaegian territories in look for work and would have enclaves of their kin living about in the Empire's lands. They often find themselves as either household servants, hired muscle or descent into pickpocketing. This gave them a bad reputation as being bottom feeders that many of the Imperials would look down upon them, forcing them to remain and sc.r.a.p by in their enclaves. Occasionally they do business or interact with their non-Goblin neighbors but due to the aforementioned discrimination, their options were severely limited. The Chosen One plus several other of his men were uneasy pa.s.sing by the encampment but they kept their cool since the Goblins mean no harm to them, only fleeing to their teepee tents to hide from their more physically imposing hosts. But when Faithleann's eyes caught the most unusual sight inside the Goblin Witch Doctor's tent to see a small human boy being placed on the Altar-work table, Faithleann through a huge fit against the Witch Doctor and the Chieftain accusing them of kidnapping the boy. The two co-rulers of the Goblin encampment immediately denied those accusations and gave their sides of the story. They stated that the boy was found unconscious but alive by a nearby riverbank and one of their hunter-gatherers chanced upon him and brought him back to the camp to be nursed back to health by the Witch Doctor. The Chosen One however, did not want to hear another word from the Goblins no longer, he tells that 'Greenskins, Beastmen taint this Holy good Imperial earth with their filthy feet' and charged his hands to cast a fireball upon the Goblin Chieftain incinerating him and several other Goblins. This forced the rest of the Goblins to attack Faithleann and his party in Self-Defense led by the Witch Doctor. Due to the unexpectation on the Chosen One's part, Faithleann didn't expect the Witch Doctor to be more than capable of disabling all of his Warrior Heroics to its potential during the melee. Using the Goblin's terrifying shamanistic powers, he casted a Totem on Faithleann causing his feet to be weighed heavily as his footwork became kneecapped by the influence of Witch Doctor's Magicks. He chanted to his heathen G.o.ds to aid him in this battle for his tribe by casting additional curses upon their Attackers from making them move uncomfortably slow, cancelling out their Magicks or blunting their attacks. Mita the Crow, still as stealthy as she is, managed to backstab the Witch Doctor, killing off his maledicted cursing once and for all freeing every one of the Imperial's out of the Shamanistic Curses they were infected upon. Overall, after retrieving the Captive and scattering the Goblins away from their home, the group calculated that they may have killed off half of the encampment's populace. Faithleann returned the young boy to his grateful father whom the child mentioned that in his dreams he saw 'a kind green forest spirit' that healed him off of his water logged lungs. Marchog Faughn and Petur after attaining additional supplies and levies quietly dragged Faithleann away to the side and scolded him again for his impulsive behavior and refuse to let go of the Chosen One's excuses of 'they were going to do something evil with the boy'. They told him that if they are to draw weapons, it would be in their more strategically planned terms from now on instead of Faithleann's reckless zealotry. Much to his chagrin, Faithleann yielded his pride for once, if it meant that the approaching crowd of onlookers look at him being scolded by those technically at his senior in spite of his 'Chosen One' status.

Deep down behind all of Faithleann's bravado of exemplifying the perfect romanticizations of folk tale Hero, he was raised by his parents to be a self-sufficient child capable of a high degree of versatility with one's body. A true 'do-it-yourself' kind of individual which is complemented by his reliance on the pure strength of will that his courage as a warrior also entails upon confronting any challenge. Additionally, there weren't that much opportunities for him to experience the real world outside of his hometown of Clearvuite so his temperaments remained of a country simpleton, uneducated in the ways of any form that requires finesse. These factors resulted in Faithleann being the kind of person who wouldn't work well with large teams, instead working with himself or a small group of people, let alone an army at his behest and call. This was ironic since in the stories of heroes that Faithleann had observed, the protagonists always had a myriad cast of supporters and followers that lifted the Hero up to venture forward despite all the odds. The young boy was too affixed on the superhuman achievements that the Heroes of each story to barely give a glance to the other characters in those stories. But even then, Faithleann has yet to meet a proper Challenge to his exponential abilities, he was just a beholding sight in the middle of the terror of the fight that most of his opponents, all lesser in strength cower below him as none could match his swordsmans.h.i.+p coupled with his magicks.

After the embarra.s.sing scene, the Chosen One kicked himself up and quietly marched forward with the rest of his now relieved comrades who were already getting put up with his youthful arrogance. They trod the road now undeterred as they made their way to Mounta.s.sone for their rendezvous. This time he will try to follow his Seniors suggestions from this point forward if it means they would stop holding him down from further realizing the extent of his power.

Although officially a city within the jurisdiction of the far eastern lands of the Slaegian Empire, the city of Mounta.s.sone, situated right below the westernmost Slopes of the Ostalrocs has a very signficant Dwarven Influence both political and economic throughout the architecture, people, governance and culture. About a century ago, the human mining town was meet with an onset of immigration of Dwarves descending from the Ostalroc Mountains looking for new opportunities outside of their paddied slopes and treacherous undergrounds that was the Dwarven Mountain Clan lands. Most of them were of a skill trade ranging from craftsmen and tradesmen. Throughout that century, Mounta.s.sone grew into the Slaegian Empire's a.r.s.enal, boosted with the supply of ingots from the Dwarven Mountains, built by the best artisans the Empire could gather second to the blacksmiths of Haringpoint all to arm the Slaegian Empire with the best arms to boast throughout all of the land.

 Their people brought about a unique architectural design to Mounta.s.sone's cityscape alongside the industrial district within the city famous for acquiring high quality metallurgical works across all the Ysanigrad continent, it was like Kur Faldhur minus the lucrative and conveniently embedded mines since the city relies on imports for more exotic ingots to keep their workshops belching smoke. The Deal between the Empire and the Great Dwarven Hold of Kur Faldhur was to meet halfway between this melting pot of two long-friended cultures in Mounta.s.sone since the City has the Blacksmithing apt.i.tude and industrial might to re-equip an entire army so quickly. All that Faithleann needed to do was to entertain a few formalities before sealing off the trade deal that will allow him to build the Weapons and Armor of Ghyranite and Scandanite he needs to be able to take the fight against the Demonic threat.

But upon his arrival, instead of the delectable fanfare of the populace cheering towards his arrival and dressing him in all greetings, he and his party saw a once prosperous and industrious city of Mounta.s.sone on the brink of anarchy. The streets were crowded with protesting Artisans from the cities Smithing Guilds as they marched down to the City Center to air their grievances to the local Duke. Upon the sight of Faithleann's party, the protests calmed down slightly as several of the citizenry turned around and flocked to Faithleann Garmhaic so they could bid him and his blessed Imperial Mandated Army to the city. Still though, there were some greeters who unleashed a torrent of complaints and apologies to the Entourage as realizing what is wrong, Mita the Crow suggested that they investigate what had just happened by getting an audience with the Duke of Mounta.s.sone.

With Findrum, Petur, Karliah, Faughn and Olayra by his side, Faithleann entered the City Hall and made his way up to the a.s.sembly Hall where the Duke was mediating the squabbling powers that runs Mounta.s.sone.

"The Chosen One!" the Duke's eyes widened upon the unexpected arrival of Faithleann and his party.

Everyone in the room, Human and Dwarf kneeled down on the blessed individual to show their respects which made Faithleann lighten himself after the humiliation he had received earlier.

"Milord! I see that your city has been seeing a malady of unrest right now? Is not Mounta.s.sone famous for being one of the most peaceful cities in all of the Empire?" the Chosen One asked.

"It was a few days ago but my apologies for having you witness such an insurrection upon your arrival. I hope the commoners did not trouble you too much on your way here?" the Duke asked for pardon.

"What had just recently transpired to result such chaos?" Marchog Faughn asked of the Duke.

The Duke gulped as he took a deep breath and a cold sweat fell down his brow as he and also the rest of his board of bureaucratic administrators fearfully turned their eyes at the Chosen One and his companions.

"This… revolt involves you in a way…" the Duke stuttered. "It is about the s.h.i.+pment of Ghyranite and Scandanite for your army milord…"

"What happened?" Faithleann pressed to have the Duke come to the point of his dialogue.

"The s.h.i.+pment had failed to make the journey in all of its entirety." The Duke confided.

"My sword and armor have been what?" Faithleann bolted up, a nerve piercing his forehead as he was left shaken by the news.

"The Demons… we believe have attacked the Dwarven Mining Guild's s.h.i.+pment of all of those Ingots your Emperor had paid so handsomely to obtain." The Duke said.

"Curse yee all of them!" Faithleann shouted.

"These Demons are very tenacious I have to say." Findrum commented.

"Incredibly clever too." Olayra nodded. "They are denying us the means to fight them by making off of our army's weapons that could defeat them."

Scandanite and Ghyranite were incredibly expensive to not only harvest from the depths of the Ostalroc Mountain Mines but the skill required demands and equally expensive amount of effort to forge the Ingots into weapons worthy of an Army of Heroes that is capable of keeping the Darkness at bay. Mounta.s.sone and Kur Faldhur were perhaps the ideal places to process these powerful metals into such powerful arms and they lack no competency nor any high-quality industry to accomplish such a task. However, within the context of the situation, it was easier and cheaper to import the Ingots to Mounta.s.sone and have them be manufactured into weapons within the Empire territory than pa.s.s through a heftier tariff on the Dwarves end if the Weapons themselves were imported to Mounta.s.sone for Faithleann's army to pick up.

"That doesn't explain the turmoil that is clamoring about outside of this Hall right now?" Petur questioned.

"Those are the Artisans that were meant to help forge the Ingots into your weapons. Many of them travelled from all across the land to be able to take their opportunity of the great pay they receive upon undertaking this Imperial Contract of forging your mighty weapons and armor oh Chosen One of the Sacred Crystal. But alas, with no Ingots to forge with many are without work and without work they have no means of creating a livelihood." The Duke explained.

"That is… that is impossible! Surely these people must know if they don't work then the Empire and soon all of Gliesia will be devoured by the Demonic Horde if they don't get to work soon." Faithleann objected to this setback. "What of the Great Kur Faldhur? What had happened to them? Surely they also know of this tragedy?"

"Mogul Dolmond of Kur Faldhur is saddened greatly by the loss of his porters and the s.h.i.+pment of Ingots from his Mines to Mounta.s.sone." A Dwarven emissary apologized.

"Then what can we do? Without the Ingots we cannot have weapons, and without the weapons we cannot fight the Demonic Invasion!" Faithleann decried.

"I apologize greatly again Chosen One but we do not have the capability, not with our current manpower working in the mines to harvest all of the same amount of Ghyranite and Scandanite in such a short period of time! That was ten years' worth of regular Mining Work mind you." The Emissary explained.

"Then why not make the Miner's families help them out to work faster? Have the women and children support their husbands and fathers in the mines?" Faithleann impetuously suggested. "We cannot be deterred by this set back from these Demons."

"Hold on boy… you reminded me of something." Findrum waved off Faithleann as he scratched his long beard to recollect a memory from his aged mind. "This one is drastic but… I do believe we have no choice in the matter…" Findrum stepped forward to the pedestal.

"You are not saying?" the Dwarven Emissary's recoiled upon realizing what Findrum is about to propose.

"There is an edict within the Dwarven Holds that is often enacted during times of war or a great crisis happens upon them. We call it 'Vlokon Tira'. It involves the Forced Labor of a mandated amount of Terrace Dwarves to work for some great construction project, conscription… or to harvest more Minerals. This applies to all of the Terrace Dwarves, male or female, young and old… essentially put most of them to work in the Mines to get the Ingots we need." Findrum said.

"The last time we did that, Mogul Dolmond was nearly overthrown if we had not cut the head of those snakes from the Mining Guilds." The Emissary protested.

"It was all for fighting off the Beastkin out of the Mountains and repairing what was destroyed in their wake!" Findrum argued.

"I support my Dwarven follower, Emissary. If we do not get our hands on these Weapons then we might not have a tomorrow!" Faithleann argued.

"Aralaya forgive me! Fine!" the Emissary recognizing the importance of this project conceded. "But I will need you and your army to help keep the peace above the Mountains whilst we regather the Ingots you need for the Demon Invasion." He said.

"G.o.ds be praised! Tell this Mogul Dolmond that he should have every healthy Dwarven man, woman and child working around the clock with the Geomancers to crack open those Veins immediately!" Findrum ordered.

"Wait! May I question one thing?" Karliah asked. "Isn't Ghyranite and Scandanite requires one to venture very deep below ground to obtain?"

Findrum and the Dwarven Emissary nodded.

"There is absolutely no way we can make Women and Children do something so dangerous like that!" Karliah protested.

"You rather let the demons win in the end Karliah?" Faithleann asked of her. "Do you know any other way we can defeat the Demons?"

"Do you Master?" Olayra asked Karliah.

"I… No…" the Mage humbled her head.

"Look Karliah, we just need to scale the Ostalrocs and make sure the work goes smoothly. If anything happens to those miners you can protect them." Marchog Faughn placed his hand on her bare shoulder.

"I understand." Karliah softly acknowledged.

A single lonesome tear filled with guilt fell upon her cheek as her heart sank over what she will be an accessory of doing for the trying time ahead. Times like these brings about the worst of some people. Even Olayra too was heartbroken that she will have to witness such a very heavy-handed sight all for the sake of Survival.

It was a hard choice that is made by hard men. But it was ultimately the right choice.

Within the span of one day and through the Tweeter Bird Messaging spell, Kur Faldhur immediately enacted the draconic Vlokon Tira Edict. Across its lands and even several nearby ones, many unwilling Terrace Dwarves were corralled and press-ganged into the dark Deep Mines where they were put to work in slave like conditions, young, old, male and female all in the name of 'a greater good'. Those who tried to resist were either arrested, cowed into silence or be made a brutal example of. However, there were still a few that managed to flee away to warn their fellow commoner of what Tyranny had just sprouted its ugly head once again throughout the Dwarven Mountains that is the Ostalrocs.

One such Dwarf soon began to write an urgent letter upon his Messenger Hawk to be sent off to inform his brother who is a merchant in the Citadel of Tyr Rian…

------------------------------------------------------------------------

"Either way of these 'Old School' methods, we still need to protect our rear before we can push forward with Haymaker." Polonsky said.

"We can no longer rest in our a.s.ses and underestimate the Empire no longer." Holyfield grumbled.

"Again, a thousand more apologies from me Colonel… and Major." Agent De Sardet bowed. "I will."

The recent attacks have staggered the Federation's presence in Gliesia, forcing them to fallback into a defensive posture, much to Major Holyfield's disappointment. If it were not for these attacks, the tanks and planes that are being armed for his grand Operation Haymaker would have started tomorrow upon the dawn's first glint light. But alas, if the Federation cannot secure their homefront then the enemy has already won. So now, the UFE are forced to play pest exterminator. Operation Clear Water it is dubbed by Colonel Polonsky. Whilst Haymaker is all about speed and power, Calm Waters revolves around staying one step ahead of an enemy that hides unseen until the moment it strikes, a s.h.i.+eld to the former's sword, an Internal Intelligence campaign focused on strong governance and staying power. The Operation follows a step-by-step process upon securing newly acquired territory for the Federation with Tyr Rian being the first stepping stone upon a long road ahead for the Gliesian Pacification Campaign. First upon making landfall in a new territory is to create blockages from the external borders leading out of the territory through restrictive checkpoints that is constantly monitored for any insurgency activity. The second step involves a Propaganda campaign to discourage rebellion and encourage cooperation with the occupiers such as delivering Clovich's 'Amelioration Speech' that the Prince is working on to be spread out through the land and with plans to blare out such propaganda at common areas from towns, villages and city centers. The third step is to be purging all Grey Order Adventurers that does not surrender or yielded to any accepted Federation armed forces whom are considered 'Irregular Fighting Units' due to being not being part of a uniformed armed force but having the skills that has a innate value in a guerrilla force that they and any remnant of the Slaegian Legion would inevitably devolve into. Speaking about this plan, Polonsky, with the help of Clovich's Administrators and the Guard Captain have declared Martial Law within Tyr Rian as search teams scoured the Citadel for anymore insidious plots or suspicious items. In regards to the Natives primitive technology it should not last long but when it comes to mages, that could become a problem as there are still too many unknown factors to take into account when it comes to them. At least Dr. Mahelona is currently making a Magic Countermeasure as he reads through the giant map on his desk of Tyr Rian's planned out occupation for his men to many strategic points of the city. If the Citadel was a fortress before their Arrival it becomes an impregnable bastion now.

"You sure about training these Natives Colonel?" Major Holyfield added in one more question.

"Prince Clovich wants to modernize so he wants his men to be given our weapons and trainings to defend themselves." Polonsky explained. "Besides it was straight from the Top coming down so we can't question this one." The Colonel added.

There was a radical concept that is being tossed around by the Inner Circle as of late. Arming and training the Native Guards of Tyr Rian into an equal footed modern solder on par to the degree of apt.i.tude with a regular UFEAF soldier. Some people like the Major, Agent De Sardet and Thomas were against the Idea, stating that this was essentially giving their one only leverage against the natives to the alien's control whilst Governor White, Inspector Reid and the Colonel were supporting the notion as it would ease their military and administrative reach throughout the local region. The decision that override and decided upon the deadlock was straight from the unanimous decision of the Chairmen of the High Command Commission, that Clovich will reform his army of Knights, Men-at-Arms and Yeomen into a modern fighting force worthy to stand side by side with the UFEAF. The rationale being of political legitimacy of their mandated rule in their own land being more accepted compared to a UFEAF outright occupying the entirety of the country. If this planet were to be annexed by the Federation in shall be through a native son aligned to their designs. Word was shared that Prince Clovich has received a generous sum of UFEAF Weaponry and Equipment ranging from helmets, body armor, radios and rifles to be retrofitted the medieval soldiers into the 23rd century.

"I shall keep tabs when I start seeing Knights holding guns now, just as I will for any of those bleeders." Agent De Sardet sighed. 'Bleeders' being the nickname he calls the thuggish Grey Order Adventurer's he and Inspector Reid are tasked to hunt down.

"So, if that is all that everyone has to say then I can say that this meeting is ad----" Major Holyfield was about to concluded the meeting but suddenly the room was rudely interrupted when the conference room's door slamed open.

"Calamity! Atrocity! Tyranny milords!" Lutheor Mirrien stumbled upon the scene, screaming loudly to the air that all of the other nearby people of the Governor's Palace could hear. The Dwarf held with him a letter by his hands.

"Mirrien? What are you doing here? Shouldn't you be back in the Citadel helping the rebuilding process?" Reid asked the Dwarf.

Mirrien's role post-incident was to facilitate the supply of much needed building materials imported from the Dwarven-dominated Ostalroc Mountains. Whatever is distressing him enough to brazenly crash into the Federation's inner heart of power in Gliesia must have been truly colossal in its direness.

"My brother! He has sent a letter to me about the what has happened from my northern homeland! He says that the some of the Local Mogul's have been press ganging the Mining's Guilds and other Terrace Dwarves to redouble their mining efforts at an expeditious pace." The Dwarf said.

"Sounds pretty normal since we just raided a ton of their most valuable trade goods." Holyfield commented.

"That is not the worst of it! But they have been also forcing the Miner's families to venture into the Mines with them!" Mirrien said.

"That is disturbing." Polonsky gulped.

"Still, they are trying to make up for lost time in production by speeding up the work processing. Essentially a form of Forced Labor." Holyfield spat in disgust.

"That is not even the worst of the worst of the news! You see, this is a secret between me and the Mining Guilds." Lutheor confessed. "According to Geological survery's the extensive mining that the Moguls and their families have pushed throughout the centuries have depleted nearly all the ore veins worth of value within the Ostalrocs. The Mining Guilds tried to make this case to ease the collection but the Geomancer are enslaved to their greeds. If they continue, a catastrophic collapse could happen!"

"My G.o.d that's horrible!" Polonsky recoiled. "So you are hear to ask us to help you save your kin from themselves?"

The Dwarf nodded.

"We can strike two birds with one stone Jan, save some lives and gain the grat.i.tude of a new section of people whilst also cutting off the Empire from their much-needed Mineral Stock once and for all." Holyfield smiled.

"But sending the troops out to the Ostalrocs could be troublesome, we are stretched thin right now with the Haymaker preparations and the bleeding within the Princ.i.p.ality." De Sardet melancholically informed Lutheor.

"Please! You can trust my brother and the Mining Guilds to help you save our chained brothers and sisters. We need to stop them before it is too late!" Lutheor begged.

"Tell me Mister Mirrien," the Intelligence Agent asked. "How much influence does the Mining Guild has within Dwarven society?"

"They ensure that the Mines continue to run without trouble but even then, most miners cannot stand seeing eye to eye with the Geomancers for their intolerance to shortcomings. My brother and the Mining Guild is what is keeping them from killing each other." The Dwarf answered.

"I see… what is the general opinion of the Mining Guilds over these new measures happening over there?" De Sardet pressed.

"Knowing them, they personally disagree with this measure but they simply cannot just quit because that is their only means of income and that the Mogul's men are keeping them in line against their wills. The Ostalrocs isn't particularly a very open place to find many other new forms of opportunities. If you were born in one station you will stay in that station of life forever and your children too. That is why so many Dwarves back then migrated out of the Mountains into the Human lands such as the Empire and the Eastern Suzerainities." Lutheor replied.

"I get the picture now Lutheor…" De Sardet smiled. "Women and Children plus Deep Mining equals a horrible outcome."

Lutheor's hope leaped for joy as he cheerfully shook the Intelligence agent's hand.

"Colonel, Major with your permission I would like to lead a Black Op into the Ostalrocs to ensure that the Empire never recover themselves s'il vous plait. If we play our cards right, we might even gain ourselves a brand-new friend." De Sardet said.

"Interesting… what kind of resources will you need for this operation?" Holyfield asked.

"I will need to have my own Super Osprey to s.h.i.+p some items on demand such as a few C4's guns and maybe even a Exo Suit when I make contact with these Mining Guild leaders. Plus I'll need a team to be my hand in the region as we dismantle this operation from the down up." De Sardet request.

"Granted." Holyfield acknowledged. "Anyone you have in mind? I can send out a team of my best Seals to accompany you." The Major offered.

"No, we need a team with a unique set of skills." De Sardet requested. "Specifically, a.s.set: Meitner, but only after her surgery is done."

"Lieutenant Rose? Rose… ROSE!" Holyfield raised his voice, his eyes widened as he just remembered something related to one of their most valuable a.s.sets in Gliesia. "Her surgery is today and she is going to get herself inside the Hecate Suit! We cannot miss this!"

Holyfield, Polonsky and De Sardet had nearly forgot that today was the day Lieutenant Samantha Rose was to undergo surgery by the combined minds of Aparo Engineer's and Dr. Mahelona in implanting several Arcane Meridian implants across specific vital areas of her body so that she can effectively wear the newly forger Hecate Suit made from Ghyranite, Actocolite and Scandanite weaved together with a t.i.tanium Mesh to create the perfect conduit to vessel Samantha's magical powers. They, bringing Lutheor along for the trip, rushed across from the New Albany Governor's Palace to the secret laboratory underneath the Starport where Lieutenant Rose is completing her metamorphosis into the ultimate Mage.

After hurriedly descending down the elevator, the Inner Circle members met up with a very sweating but heavily pleased with himself Doctor Mahelona.

"Your late, but if you are going to ask. The Surgery was a resounding success and the Lieutenant is inside the Embedding Chamber getting inside the Hecate Suit for the first time. Come I will show you." David said.

Following their second greatest a.s.set, the Inner Circle made its way pa.s.s the other scientific experiments going about inside the Laboratory's in-house foundries until they came upon a room where a large pod like object lay before them. Polonsky smiled when his eyes caught Sergeant Crocker and the rest of Stryder group including a very excited Iris 'a.s.set: Sacagewea' Cadohagan and Aliathra 'a.s.set: Le Fay' Lareththor. Humming on his ears, the Colonel could also discern the machinery being put to work attaching the Arcane Meridian implants across Samantha's bodies and aligning them to their allotted sockets within the Hecate Suit that which the Lieutenant was deathly quiet despite the harrowing circ.u.mstances of being experimented on for the first attempt ever of the UFE to have one of their own becoming a Mage.

But just as the Scientists, Stryder group and the Inner Circle held their breath. The Machine stopped as cooling steam emitted off of Samantha's Embedding Chamber.

"Surgery Complete, Hecate Suit successfully neuro-linked with a.s.set Meitner. Subject Vitals: Stable." ISAC informed everyone into the room.

Lieutenant Samantha Rose emerged from the pod now wearing the amethyst colored and skin sight Hecate Suit that formed around her womanly features. Upon her first step out of the pod, she collapsed on one knee to the ground, gaining her bearings as she tries to get use to walking again post her metamorphosis into the UFE's greatest Magical a.s.set.

Barely containing the accomplishment of his work, Doctor Mahelona spoke from the placidity of the onlookers of this next step in human evolution unfold before them.

"Ever since Mankind had first looked up to the stars, we have wondered… What lies beyond? Yet very few even today dared to look… inward…" Mahelona said.

Samantha wobbles upwards now that she has gotten used to the way her suit now feels being worn around her. Within her head, she was besieged by many new sensations as she could feel the very planet and the Mana Crystals throughout all of the world sing to her tune.

"You know what is also funny Doc? Just how ironic it is when you say that…" Bobby Bianchin commented.

"How so?" Mahelona asked.

"That the means to defeat the Empire isn't through our machines or weapons of war, but within. By using their own power against them." Bobby said.

"Do you know Mister Bianchin, try as you corpos might, there are still somethings within the human body, mind and soul that we still do not understand, possibly beyond what we could have imagined else." Mahelona said. "When we first started Project Hecate, I had hoped that if we had succeeded in this project Bobby, we might just see a glimpse of what we might become..."

Samantha meanwhile tries to channel her newly enhanced powers by sparking her hand to conjure a ball of Unbinillium energies for the first time with the Hecate Suit.

"Oh? What is it exactly?" the Corpo twitched his eye brows egging for the Scientist to tell him his answer.

At last, a ball of brilliant and unfettered Magical energies conjured upon Samantha's hands, its radiance filling the room with light and its beaming song emboldening the more magically sensitive Aliathra to perk up her large leaf-shaped ears. Lieutenant Samantha Rose, now fully synchronized the Hecate Suit V1 roared in triumph as her eyes and veins grow in bright blue light filled with pure Unbinilium energies.

"Something extraordinary." Mahelona said.