66 a Harmatia to Gliesia
The spirits of the soldiers had soared to such levels only last seen the twilight months before this damnable, this forlorn hope that is this War had brought. Nothing but the sight of ruination, the loss of familial brethren, and the abyss of famine was all that the decimated remnants of the Slaegian Legion, the last vestiges of the Empire. Then until at last, marching triumphantly through the gates of Ghana's Wall was the jubilation of the Elven Rangers and Slaegian-Born Adventurers the music of the Demon's first defeat. Three hundred cheers were made of their victory from the Garrison as they hoarded the treasures and even spared a few jeers to the Captive Invaders that the Elves had brought into tow. Elated that now their foe the shadow terror of fear that they had once faced.
To make their prospects brighter, the Supply situation had been resolved, if temporarily. Fresh and intact caravans filled with grain, meats, and vegetables from what remains of their meager food sources had finally shipped into the fortress' pantry. All of which is just in time, as a long stream of refugees sought sanctuary beneath walls of the Great Northern Bastion. Thanks to the efforts of the Elves, bread bakes truly on the mighty ovens of the Fortress to feed the hungry as Huguet bit down on the first, real meal for the past few months.
The Marshall only shared partial jubilation however with this victory. He was truly, pleased of this turnabout of fortunes for the Crusade but the casualties sustained to inflict about 30 deaths amongst the Demonic invaders and 22 Prisoners of war in exchange for a combined estimate of 500 brave souls was barely digestible for his war-weary stratagem to tolerate. Valorion however, reassured him that this first price they had paid for their shift in tactics will gradually decrease over time once their combined forces get a true understanding of their foes. The last battle, being the seed that will grow to a phoenix amongst the ashes of the cascading yet still defiant Empire.
"Show me." the Marshal nodded to Sellyine.
The Mage alongside several Clerics of Neneth and Thidar were garbed in Apothecarian garments, the purity of their silvery robes adorned with holy symbols tainted with Red Blood. Red Demonic Blood.
Before them were piles of notes, detailed sketches etched with enchanted quills called Remembrance Pens. Illustrations of what they had discovered in near-perfect detail, or as perfect as an ink quill pen could reproduce. Earlier that day, the Prisoners of War from Valorion's successful attack, at least three of them were selected at random to be put under the blade immediately. They were cut wide open with much resistance but immediate sedation of a Deep Slumber Spell from the Calyrielian Priest allowed the studious Surgeons and their Demonologist colleagues to begin their study.
What results they had found were shocking.
"They… are normal?" Huguet reeled slightly. He was left stunned by the detailed drawings the Elve's Remembrance Pens had etched.
He didn't have time to venture deep into the Dungeons below the Fortress so the crack party of Demonologists, Advocates, and Holy Clerics had to use enchanted quills to detail their initial findings to the Marshall in person. The drawings were of no different than the voluminous textbooks used by erudite Healers and Doctors in studying the physiological body. He had expected something more, fantastic or otherworldly coming from these Invaders. But their bodies were nothing of boastful distinction compared to anyone within the Alliance of the Light could attest.
"When he had dissected their cadavers, I was honestly left aghast. I even made sure we were not seeing some kind of Illusion. But alas, I did not find any traces of Magic. What your eyes see from these sketches do not deceive you." Sellyine bowed her head and reported. "This evidence further complements your Spymaster's stories. That these Invaders do not use Magic or not as much as we do."
"No exceptional weaknesses, resistances or immunities found. A simple knife had sliced into their flesh without any problem. And I didn't even have to Align it nor was it made of Dwarfen Cold-Iron. Just a simple Iron incision." An Apothecary advocated behind her. They had tested all sorts of violent applications to the test subjects ranging from the burning heat of an Elven Enchanted Arrow, the blessed exorcism of deified Holy Instruments, the magical force of Magic Missiles and even a few bottles of Alchemical Acids and much more invasive probes before the subjects untimely expirations. It would have taken the entire day to describe each detail.
"We have failed to even conclude if these subjects we captured are even 'Demons' or anything we have ever recorded in our scrolls before. Whoever these beings are, they are as Human as you and me Marshall." Added a Cleric of Thidar.
"Are you sure that we didn't capture one of Clovich's Thralls by mistake?" Huguet asked.
"No, Clovich's soldiers and their Otherworldly allies are both distinctly dressed in their own weapons and armor. My Scouts rest assures you of the integrity of their findings." Valorion maintained a stiff upper lip.
"I do not know if I should be reassured or be worried." Huguet pondered on the news.
"We should be heartened by this news!" Valorion aroused the Marshall. "If these 'Demons' are no different from us then all we must do now is outfight them! Their weapons and battle tactics only seemed to catch your soldiers flat-footed."
"As milord had proven to you, our shift in generalship is capable of defeating them. We just need more victories such as this." Sellyine nodded supportively of her Prince. "They seem to rely too much on the stratagem of denying us the ability to combat them in melee as they harrow us with their Staves… Crossbows… or whatever they call it."
"A 'different kind of weapon' ey..." Morthwyl, the Half-Ogre Blacksmith and one of the few remaining Craftsman of exceptional skill that the Legion have at their disposal scratched his mountainous chin. "What the Rogue had shown me, these 'Guns' are neither made of any Demonic Origin… or any metal if any. I… hate… hate… but… even I am left at a lost all of these Relics the Elf gave me."
The Half-Ogre shrugged his shoulders. "Well not all since there are those corpses of their metal beast that the Elves could not bring back. 'Heavy' dis'dere excuse. Damn milk drinkers."
"Forgive me for this, but can you be able to replicate these Weapons of theirs Morthwyl? Even if it's only to be given to only just the elite of our men?" Huguet asked the Master Blacksmith.
"I-Impossible, Cipag slash my hands." the Half-Ogre bowed apologetically. Saying an old curse turned punishment to those who neglect their talents. "Even I cannot, and even if I could it would take too many moons for me and the rest of the Keelan Clan to figure out the intricacies of… of… these weapons. Our only hope is to have several of your elites be able to use these weapons we had stolen against the Demons themselves just as The Crow Master had demonstrated to me. She seems to be able to wield them without falling into any corruption."
"None of my expertise could have prepared me for all that we have examined. I apologize that I fail you all." Sellyine bowed again.
"If what I hear of all of this is true Cyffredinol, we may be fighting not Demons, but other Humans from another world." One of Huguet's Lieutenants concluded.
"Demonic or Not, this enemy is truly unlike anything we had fought before. What you accomplished back their Prince Valorion could likely just be a fortuity." Huguet inhaled his advisor's dialogue deeply.
"Are you saying that my Tactics are flawed Marshal?!" the Elven Prince gasped, offended by his counterparts' words.
"No, I am saying we cannot risk such large attacks like these. We need to preserve our men as possible. Perhaps you divide your men into smaller adrannau and pick off smaller and drag out the battles. My reports said that you pressed your assault when you knew the Enemies' reinforcements had arrived." Huguet argued. "Your last victory was all too costly. Our manpower reserves cannot trade ourselves with the Otherworlders like this. We have to stop attacking them in large groups or in drawn-out open battle until the moment is ripe."
"We won't be able to attack the enemy formations that matter if you are suggesting I scale down my attacks against them. But I do agree on one thing, however." The Elven Prince raised.
As the discussion continued the Marshal soon realized that there was a single yet imperative voice still missing amongst the chorus of minds gathered inside his Office.
"Is the Crow Master here?" Huguet asked.
"She is at the Dungeons now, needing some 'additional' time interrogating the Prisoners. Some kind of 'Crow's Secret' she told me." Petur explained. "Forbade anyone to be in the same room as she whilst she squeezes more information out of them."
"From what I DID hear inside those dungeons… was a lot of screaming." Faithleann cracked his knuckles. "They must really hate whatever is she doing to those vile creatures." The Chosen One seethed.
"I wish to talk to her. Llengfilwr… can you immediately sum---" the Marshal was cut short when the very person he wished to be brought before had now appeared.
Mita the Crow Master, stood before them like a frail beggar. Unlike her usual vigor posture as a master spy, Mita walks like a drunkard as she barely able to walk straight and her hands and feet shake uncontrollably as she takes her seat with difficulty. She was in a death-like state as if the sanctuary of Ghana's Wall seemed to grant her restlessness instead of safety. Her eyes were disheveled into an insomniac red glow as her body shook closer to the table. Her typical pale skin looked deathly pearlescent color rather than her slightly livelier, but distinctive snow-white self, a product of her incessant coverings of roguish leathers.
She had overheard everything quietly amongst the back-and-forth discussions the Alliance's Leaders had thrown around each other for the past half hour. Looking around her colleagues she took a deep breath before she is ready to say her piece.
"No! No! No!" Mita slammed the table, sending the sketches of the Invader's dissected corpses flying across the room. Upsetting the rational trains of thought going through everyone's mind at that moment.
Upon hearing the news discussions between the Elven Prince and Marshal Huguet of the continuation of their war plans against the Invaders had forced her off her cold and calculated self. She needed to speak more of what she knows of these tenacious adversaries and of what they are truly capable of. In truth, she had used her newfound vampiric powers, not out of the temporary indulgence of her newfound instincts but out of contextual necessity to remain her cover as a loyalist. Using the Blood Ritual, she scryed through the memories of a handful of the imprisoned Federation Soldiers that Valorion had brought in from his last battle.
It was known from the Monsterology Books she had leisurely reads of that Vampires can experience the memories of their victims via their blood-draining bites called the 'Sanguineous Anamnesis' Ritual. Instead of biting them however and risk exposure, she used her knife to tap an incision into their proverbial wine barrels of Red Wine. 'Wine' being their blood, under the disguise of 'Interrogation'. She took care that she did not leave any traces of anything vampiric with her time below the dungeon. What the Ritual did reveal to her, however, petrified her.
"Mita? Are you sick? You look like you didn't eat or sleep in weeks." her old friend Petur asked her, concern growing on his mind.
"My time with the Prisoners that I asked for? I have learned many… many things of our Enemy that I wish to share now with you." Mita weakly answered.
Intrigued, the Marshal quietly gestured her to divulge her findings to the crowd.
"I have found… HOPELESSNESS…" Mita sank below the Table. Her hands quake with every breath she took.
All eyes around the table widened in shock by the Crow's words. She was normally logical and calculative at her most distant, sagely in her findings when she possesses information that is most valuable.
"This… fortress… little more than our gravestones if we all stay here." Mita continued her doomsaying.
"Are you saying this mighty fortress will fall against the demons and we cannot win against the demonic force?" Faithleann asked. Surprise and a hint of his temper boiling when he turned his ire towards the Crow Master.
He had once boasted, upon his first gaze and step inside Ghana's Wall as the pride of all of the illuminating bastions of civilization that the Slaegian Empire had erected throughout Ysanigrad. To have someone say, that this great aegis they rest the hopes and vestiges of that light.
"DO YOU NOT UNDERSTAND ME!?!" Mita slammed the table again. Trying to reach out how distant their understanding of their enemy is compared to her. "They are humans from another world no stronger if not as powerful as the Gods! We are but insects to their boot!" she profanely declared. Blasphemous words echoed below the more religious participants of this meeting. "They are not Alboen of the Legend's past! THEY ARE THE UNITED FEDERATION OF EARTH! They hold dominion of twenty-six! Twenty-Six worlds just like ours! We are the twenty-seventh to be its next meal!" Mita announced to the entirety of the fellowship.
"Crow Master, what in the Gods' names are you speaking of?! Have you gone mad? Did they get into you?!" Findrum hurried to her side, his axe in hand in the event Mita may start to run amok with whatever eldritch secrets she managed to extract from the Invaders.
"Listen to me! You have to listen to me!" Mita calmed her nerves. The threat of an axe decapitation from the Monster Slayer understandably unnerving her colleagues.
She then proceeded to elaborate what she knows about the Federation through the secret use of her blood memory magic she acquires in her vampiric state from cities full of heaven-reaching steel towers, the Core Worlds, and their ability to bastardized those who patronize them. But most unnerving of all is their non-reliance to Magic, they had built their world from nothing but from the flesh of the stone and trees and the mana of the waters. The Federation's Armed forces that had invaded their world? Not even as sizeable as a drop of the Ocean to what their true might could manifest.
"Mita! I think those captive Otherworlder have driven you mad. You are starting to ramble nonsense!", the Archmage indicted.
"Nonsense?! This is not nonsense but the truth!" Mita stepped her foot down and defended herself. "You are speaking nonsense! Everything we have been doing throughout this ENTIRE WAR was all wrong… wrong… WRONG! The Grandmaster? The Raid on Tyr Rian? That Flying Ship they have? Our 'Dragon Wall'? The prisoners we now have captive? We played right into their hands!" Mita bit her lip again trying to reach into the heads of her dull-axed peers.
"Back to my question earlier back then about that so-called Flying Warship. If these Otherworlders have billions of soldiers, war machines that can crush our forces and cities without any sweat; why let us still continue to fight them until now?" Petur returned to one of his previous questions.
"First of all, they have no desire to ravage this world." The Crow Master quickly answered without hesitation. "Second, we are but insects to them! Our magics, our weapons, our people? They would not sully themselves fully even use half of their true strength! For them, we are just annoyance for their grand designs who fated to be cast-off once they deem it worth their time. Also remember what Karliah said before that, we provoked the Federation to go war with us because we thought them going to destroy us and plunge us into darkness! We got it all wrong! Grandmaster Owyne was wrong! And now… with that, we have captured several of their soldiers. They are angered like Owlbears robbed off their young!" Mita pressed, her voice rising upwards.
"You are beginning to sound like Karliah and Olayra already! I was right, you starting to show signs of corruption." Faithleann reaches his sword.
"Stand down, Ser Garmhaic!" the Marshal reprimanded the impetuous Chosen One again. Before turning to the meeting's doomsayer. "Mita, what in Thidar's name do you mean the late Grandmaster prophecy was wrong? Did you see all the damages the Invaders are causing to our lands? Our homes? Our people?! If they are not the force of darkness then what are they?" Huguet questioned.
"NO! For what the Invavders and those that follow them, we are 'the Forces of Darkness'." Mita challenged the Marshal.
"That is enough from you Crowmaster. Get this madwoman out of our sight!" Valorion proclaimed. He attempted to wrestle away Mita from the meeting as she ashamingly hid herself under her hood, less she fully betray her Vampiric Secrets.
"I have you all know that the reason all those people that follow the banner of the Federation have one thing in common: They hate us all! Prince Clovich and his Amelioraiton? Ammelioration prince Clovich created with the backing of the Federation gives those people things that we never offer them: the freedom of fellowship amongst the Other Races, freedom from slavery, freedom from the fear of monsters and bandits and freedom from want! This is why many of his people flock to his banner! The Daosne, your sister Aliathra! Even the Dwarves too! It is because the Otherworlders have shown themselves that there was something… something more within them. Something we never see amongst them ourselves because of what the way we are", Mita grappled out of Valorion's grip.
"Enough of your drivel! Guards take her away to the Dungeon!" the Elven Prince seethed. How dare she thinks she has the right to speak of his Sister's name so ill infront of him. "I would have thrown you in the dungeon by now but since you have done a good job retrieving the Relics of the Invaders, I will grant you clemency under my eyes."
"And who says you have the Right to judge MY men?! Elf?" Huguet arose from his chair and stared down on the obstreperous Prince under his presence.
"Marshal Huguet, her Doomsaying aside…" the Prince turned to his Human Counter-part. "We must continue our plan… with some of your revisions and I assure you, we will triumph against them. No need to radically change our strategy… let alone listen to the advice of this Spymaster of yours. I will make sure we prevail against whatever enemy we are facing since the Gods will be on our side and with our superior magic and the Chosen One Faithleann will defeat them since we now learn that they are not different from human and uses weapons made from pure craftmanship and know nothing of magical nature. Furthermore, the Otherworlders only have a couple of thousand men here in this world, we can achieve victory by slowing threshin them out using the tactics I had derived", Valorion confidently answered. His poise relieving the tension between congregation in the room for the Alliance of the Light.
"Don't choke on your 'victory', your highness!" Mita mockingly seethed. "You were lucky to win because the Otherworlders did not send their flying machine to kill your force at the time! And do not be naive about the fact that you have the advantage in magic! Sooner or later, they will crush all of us in this room." Mita stated.
"What more dross are you talking about? You think the people who know nothing about magic can triumph against us. Do not be absurd!" Faithlean mocks
"Did the Shareholder need to kick your teeth in again thrice 'Chosen One?'" she mocked back. She is one of them! Her magic surpasses even the greatest of our Adepts. We will run out of soldiers before they even decide to crush us all once and for all!"
"You are dismissed Crow Master. I… I… We need to have some time to… contemplate on your findings. But do not show such insubordination to us again. Do you understand me?" Huguet granted her a peaceful departure from his chambers.
"Unless you axe-heads can come up with something truly heroic… sooner or later they will descend upon this fortress." Mita gave her final words before retiring for the day.
That blood she had being her only real nourishment in quite a while, but she must still resist to give into her repressed beast's embrace.
"Heroic." Faithleann meanwhile had his noggin moved into waterworks. He had a rather novel idea inspired by several ballads and stories he had heard.
He turned around from the meeting, quietly as he raced towards the few places he has in mind.
There was a way he could save his home just yet…
[-]
"Take one, one of each." Faithleann threw down several piles of weapons down towards them as he announced his presence at Refugee Camp outside of Ghana's Wall near where the rest of the outlying forces of the Alliance, Dwarf, Elven and other Slaegian Forces not native to Ghana's Wall Garisson had encamped with. Piles of halberds, pikes, swords and axes to name a few of what he could reasonably grab off the weapon racks.
The expellees were at first more than relieved when the Chosen One allowed his reassuring presence to greet forth them after such a tiring and long journey. They were hungry, desperate, fearful but at least they could enjoy the safety of the shadow the Fortress' Aegis. Many of them barely only managed to journey with the clothes and families at their back. Many of them had lost their friends and family to the elements from as far away as the Duchy of Tifrait itself.
When they saw Faithleann unloaded the wheelbarrow's worth of weapons before them, many of them were unnerved by the sight of them being given weapons upon their immediate admission to the Garrison.
"A-are you l-le-levying us milord?" one of the refugees timidly asked Faithleann.
"Now is the day of bravery my fellow people!" the young hero stood atop a Supply Box as a pedestal to address the gathering crowd. "The Darkest Hour of our lives is at hand. But we must t-take heart! For I carry the legacy of the great Caldell Slaegiac in… in myself!" he was no great orator that is for sure. But he had the passion of one. He needed to pierce each of these Refugee' hearts that they are called into this holiest of crusades.
"The Second Demonic Wars have begun I say unto all of you… all! Take up arms and stand before the Blue Dragon of the House of Slaegiac once more they… they… uh… beckon… thee of you… you all… citizens of the Empire! Stand with me! The Chosen of the Gods!" roused the masses.
As he made his humbling bow. He took a look at the many exiled peoples of the Empire, all of their hopes, dreams, and aspirations now made to call in this finest of hours…
"Yer go'ny bread? I'm hun-gee!" one Refugee asked. A noticeable growl from his skeletal frame of whose flesh still bafflingly cling to life. He wasn't even the healthiest of individuals, not that Faithleann matter as he needed more souls to bolster the Crusade.
"F-fight? But… But I don't… Bu…" one displaced individual of dwarfen-height was embarrassingly wetting himself of the prospect of being forced into war. "J-just make me a slave! Cook, or anything but fighting! I—just can't!" he begged of him.
One brave souled Refugee in contrast tried to pick up one of the weapons stacked below Faithleann, a weighted pike, only to collapse to the ground. His weak body unable to lift anything heavier.
"I… I can't go fight! My wife died and I have a child to take care of!" cried another one.
The crowd began to uproar, not of enthusiasm as Faithleann had anticipated but of disarray. This was nothing the Chosen One had hoped of arming the refugee masses under his banner to bolster Huguet's War Effort against the Demonic Tide. Those of the Ballads had always magnetize many willing followers under their standard that they willingly would journey with to the ends of the world for. First, to replace his own personal loses and humiliations from his previous failures in the Ostalrocs and at Haringpoint. Second to be made of credible use to his now waning image amongst the Imperial Legions who were, though not publicly admitting it, questioning his ability to lead in spite of his tremendous powers.
"Dinasyddion!" Faithleann sought to calm the crowd. "Rouse your hearts! Be brave! You must fight for your home and families. All I ask is that you fill your hearts with valor!" he tried to motivate them.
The odds were against them yes against the demonic tide but now is the moment of heroes to prevail now at this darkest of hours. Or so Faithleann still believes…
"We need food!" many refused. "We need medicine!" others shouted. "We need protection!" the rest yelled.
This attracted the attention of the Garrison Guards who had come to investigate a recent string of missing weaponry.
"Faithleann, Boy!" Petur Reikdorf stomped through the crowd along with a much-frustrated Prince Valorion and several Dwarfen Warriors on his heels.
"Get away from those!" One disgruntled sergeant yelled to the Refugees as he beckoned his company to pick up the loose weapons. THEIR weapons to be exact from Faithleann.
Most of the refugees complied, backing away from the clear authority that was the combined
"Get these people some bread and soup. They at least deserve that." Petur gave further orders to the Sergeant before he alongside Prince Valorion turned their ire on Faithleann.
"What are you trying to do?" they both said to him at the same time.
"I am recruiting more men to our cause." Faithleann defended his action. "We lost so much and we are…"
But he was cut off by the Elven Prince…
"You… you actually think these… these… uh…" Valorion bit his lips. Not wanting to say anything scandalous so publicly. But he still needs to express his displeasure. "These… Commoners look like they could be in any fighting shape to you?"
"All we need to do is train these folks and we should…" the Chosen One again tried to add more stones to his failing pedestal but again he was cut off.
"You have NO Authority to do any of that." Petur calmly addressed the naïve young knight.
"I am trying to aid everyone," Faithleann said.
"You can 'Aid' everyone by reporting to the Battlements for Drills boy," Valorion ordered him.
The Chosen kept a straight face as much as he could to maintain his composure publicly. But deep down he knew he was defeated. He gave a light albeit begrudging bow to the Elven Prince before he is escorted to his new duties over the Wall's Sentries above.
As Faithleann left, the rest of the guards ordered the Refugee to disperse so that the Imperial Bureaucrats could perform a formal census of them. Faithleann's efforts of rallying them were commendable, but armies from the elitists of knights to humblest of levies do have to march on their stomachs. Each of the peoples was examined thoroughly by the pen-pushers as they asked for their names, age, health and where they come from. They were segregated to wherever properly they needed to be. The sick, especially those from Kalmte who showed clear signs of contracting the Accursed Plague were to be quarantined at the Fortress' Hospice. Those of productive skill were given rations and tools and put to work, the rest who are the elderly, the women and children were to be placed beneath makeshift bunks below the storage rooms of the fortress. They were given a set of chores they must do for the Fortress as payment for their safety such as assisting in feeding the Garrison, mending fabrics or other forms of light labor.
When finished, the Bureaucrats had accounted for 3,500 refugees as of this day. They expect that number to rise much more for the next following days.
"Get these weapons back to their rightful owners," Valorion ordered the Humans around as he sorted out the myriad mixes of weapons that Faithleann had piled up.
"Milord!" an Elven Squire suddenly dashed towards him before humbly bowing prostrate.
"You are summoned once again to Huguet's Headquarters!" he averted his gaze.
"What does the Marshal need of me now?" the Prince asked.
"No, not you. But a messenger from the homeland had used a Dimensional Door Spell to reach you. He demands your immediate presence at once. He—He---" the Squire began to sputter. "He is a Rainbow Helm, of the Palace Guards." He, with much vigor in prying off his hesitancy to say such a blustering arrival.
Valorion could only be alarmed by such news. Rainbow Helms assigned to become Palace Guards fashioned distinct plumed variants of their namesake's headgear whilst those dedicated for warfare do not, not that a few tall feathers would otherwise truly distinguish them from each other. Nonetheless, to have even one of them suddenly appear in this desolate wasteland was inconceivable upon any notion of protocol or procedure.
His mind grew blank with nothing but the thought of his parents and sister as he raced back upstairs to Huguet's Office. As expected, there was a Rainbow Helm, garbed in the much more decorative armor the Palace Rainbow Helms were adorned with, just as how he grew up with. The poor lad was much worse than wear, his beautiful Armor reduced to decrepit soot as if he had barely escaped an inferno that ruined his resplendency of the Rainbow Helm name.
Upon seeing the Crown Prince appear before him. The Knight fell down on his knee's as low as he could reach down to the cold floor. Tears could be seen streaming from among the cracks of the wooden planks.
"Milord… Ethuilen… your home… it has fallen!" he delivered the grave news to Valorion.
"By the Gods! What triffle is this?!" he cried. He could not believe his ears.
"Your ears do not deceive you. Your home has fallen! The King and the Queen, your parents are imprisoned by the ploys of the Black Tree Pact." The distraught Rainbow Helm explained.
The Archmage Sellyine alongside the rest of Valorion's lieutenants had also poured into Huguet's Chambers upon hearing the news. There haughty aura shattered in an instant of the fall of their homeland.
"What of my Sister?! What of the other ones who are loyal to the Crown?" Valorion beseeched him. "How could they broke through the many fortresses that lined Otaehryn's Tragedy?"
The Rainbow Helm did not dare answer. For he knew the truth of what had transpired upon his hasty escape from Ethuilen had entailed.
"Answer me!" Valorion cried.
"They… they didn't have to." He answered. "A-A-A considerable sum of the Houses, the Nobility and even your Retainers… c-c-onspired… be-became turncoats, and forwarded for your parent's arrest. Allowed our Fallen-Kin to just… to just walk into the Capitol unopposed." The Rainbow Helm answered.
"A Coup in Alfel-Nora!?" the Marshal gasped. "Then what will become of the Emperor and his Courtiers?" Huguet's hair greyed with sweat.
"Who else betrayed us!?" Sellyine could not hold her silence, her tears streaming to her eyes. She had family and a lover she left behind back home just as many of the White Elves presents.
"I do not know all of them… but I saw the Crimson Lancer, Lord Vokhol, and Seeress Vultara speaking openly with Commander Haldaar, Admiral Neladeren and Archmage Gatheai." The Rainbow Helm's eyes rolled to his right as he tried to remember the faces. "I beg you, I ran for my life and a Mage sacrificed his life to allow me to reach you just now! Forgive my cowardice, I could not defend your Parents from the Traitors." He lowered his head in absolute shame.
The Archmage let out a strangled cry and cusped her hands to her face, trying to wipe off the despair on her visage. After a moment, she breathed deeply before turning to meet the Rainbow Helm's gaze. She could not believe to hear of these names be written into speech in such an outlandish sentence. To think several of these Highborn's some she considered both as friends, colleagues, or masters would do such a vile act of treason to their own King, to their own Nation, and to herself.
The likes of those names were seen as Heroes, Patriots, and Paragons to those all around Ethuilen and of reverent tales abroad. To think they would turn against their ideals to collude with the Pact against their king was unthinkable!
"No… impossible… they would…" Sellyine knelt down, her legs weakened. "They would never…"
"Neladeren! My own friend?" Valorion impulsively stepped forward, catching himself from falling into anger before he calmed down.
Now was not the time to alight their heads on fire. Not whilst there is so much happening right now.
"Gwanur give pause and breathe in and out. Tell me everything that had come to past. Everything we must know of." He ushered the repentant Rainbow Helm back to his seat considerately, passing him a warm loaf of bread and vegetable soup to loosen the Elven Knight's disheveled tensions within him.
So much had transpired to befall to a once-proud Royal Guard to be humbled to such a state.
"I… shall tell you from the beginning…" the Rainbow Helm groaned. His lamentations echo a dissonant knell to Ethuilen Expeditionary Force's ears.
[-]
The entirety of the Slaegian Nobility's exodus had finally arrived safely at Ethuilen two weeks. Or to be more precise, right within the Sanar-Mitta district. The inner core of all power within the Entente's Capital City. There is a specific ziggurat there, that functioned like a Dock that is designed to receive returning Elven Diplomats or expressly hasty packages needed for delivery without all the risks of interception albeit under the direst of permissions. Andonor Hall hosted a specifically entuned Mana Anchor within itself that allowed more precise Dimensional Transportation Spells to be better precisely shoot and receive such passengers and cargo wherever they are needed to be. And just as Elven Arcane Supremacy demonstrated today, Emperor Uldin and his exiles with their belongings arrived without any complications.
"You will love to see the Royal Gardens my son… the flowers there will put a cheer into your eyes." Uldin excitedly whispered to Arthurfrir. Today was the Emperor's rest day and he would love to show his son around town now that he has a moment of rest.
There were very few days off he could spend some quality time alone to himself and his servants without worrying of his Imperial Duties. It had been meetings with King Aslanidor over the War Room, addressing the Exiles and writing letters to all remaining Imperial Legionnaies from the northern pockets of Ghana's Wall to the colonies by the Southern Frontier. The days were long, with much hair greying the man. But in those few days where he could let go of himself for awhile, he cherished them greatly.
"Thad, what about Estrice." A pale Arthurfrir emerged from behind his father's robes.
"I will do everything in my power from this point on to get her back." The exiled Emperor knelt down. "As long as you and Estrice are by my side, that is all that matters to me." he hugged his boy tightly.
As he turned around to walk forward, he noticed that several of his Teaghlaigh Bodyguards stared below the balcony from the section of Royal Palace he resides in. They had a strategic view of the Palace's courtyard. Those bodyguards stationed had their weapons drawn fearfully and their bows readying to fire at anything or anyone who would dare approach them.
"Get back milord!" one of his Teaghlaigh Bodyguard yelled.
"Wha-what in the Gods name just happened?" Uldin demanded an explanation.
He turned to his guardian's direction and looked in awe… and then dreaded confusion.
The exiled Emperor saw crowds of Soldiers suddenly swarming the Royal Palace, arresting guards and rounding up the servants. Over the horizon, there sits at the center of the courtyard. One baring the familiar Silver Tree symbol behind an azure midnight full of stars representing the much-favored Ethuilen Entente. What is next to the banner however was its scorched parody: A Coal-black Tree behind swords dripped in bones and blood red. The flag of the Black Tree Pact, the Ethuilen's sworn enemies.
"The Black Elves have invaded the Capitol?!" one of Uldin's bodyguards questioned him only for a trumpet to horn the formal arrival of someone much more dignified of status than just a lowly-pen pusher in charges of foreign civic duties.
An entourage of Ethuilen Rainbow Helms and Black Tree Acropolis Wardens escorting two faces that the Slaegian's recognized… but not imagine sharing the same presence of one another. They were fully armed in all aspects of their adornments but remained passive, standing as still as statues unless called upon by their respective masters.
"Her Royal Majesty, Mistress of all of Alfel-Nora, Tol-Tavaiya and Saihan, Queen Ithiel Lareththor and his… his 'Visage'… Crimson Lord Vokhol Duskblade." A herald announced. His voice choking upon saying Vokhol's name from the unfamiliarity, much to the Crimson Lancer's chagrin.
They were attended by their Courtiers, Ithiel with nymph-haired maids-in-waiting and Squire followed with two Dreadknights at his personal side for Lord Vokhol. The Queen was richly dressed in an expansively long purple dress as equally resplendent as her title, whilst the Black Elf in contrast wore the same black armor those of his Order were famous for adorning themselves in.
"Princess Ithiel? Q-Queen? Wha- happened to your mother Queen Elisven?" Uldin questioned.
"Emperor Uldin, I must apologize for such a… sudden change of events. But I can assure you that you and your companions will not be harmed. I… we are only here to inform you of the new change in Alfel-Nora's leadership." Ithiel nodded. Vokhol following albeit showing lesser bow to the exiled Emperor.
"And that is the long-awaited Reunification of Alfel-Nora. The reconciliation between the old Ethuilen Entente and the Black Tree Pact." Vokhol announced.
"There is so much for us to explain, such strangest of Circumstances had befallen that you know see me sharing the side of one of my 'Fallen-Kin' today." Ithiel courteously beckoned teams of her servants to allow the peaceful disembarkation of the rest of the Slaegian Argosy into the dock. Only the softest faced of serviced their arrival leaving an unerring sense of lullness to emanate the scene.
"The Crisis across the ocean has… to lack of a fitter summation. Had made several of the Ethuilen to have their interests… align with their peers from Dúrnimloth." The Elven Queen answered. "Unfortunately, my parents did not see everything… my way." She muttered.
"You… usurped your Parents?" Uldin reviled in disgust, shielding his son away from Ithiel.
Yet the Elf gently loosed her face into a lamentful frown.
"Yes, I must confess I did usurp my Parents." She gestured for an apology. "But I had read those harrowing tales from both you and Lord Vokhol, and I knew I could not stand idle as the world burns itself around us. We Elves, even in spite all of our squabbles are the Shepherds of the World. We were the ones who inspired your ancestor, Caldell Slaegiac to mold your homeland to the Empire it was today after all. I had begged my father that we push for enlargement of our forces, but all he cared about was his 'Image' amongst the common folk. Too afraid to wield the Farmer's Axe he and my mother are. That is why, I, Ithiel Lareththor, and a few of like-minded collaborators, collogued with the Pact. With our combined might, we can surely push back against these Dark Times ahead." Ithiel eloquently explained. A serene breath escaped her lips with each word.
"I do believe yes, your combined might could tip the balance for us all… but I still ask, what happened to your parents?" Uldin asked.
"You Ysanigradeans. You have shown to be found wanting in strength. You squabble amongst petty things like titles, 'honor', and power. Afraid to see the greater image before you. Like allowing the Daosne and Greenskin savages roam free whilst all you care about as 'profit'." Ithiel's voice changed to a peremptory tone. "I saw amongst them nothing but decadence, indolence, abhorrence to uncertainty. Not from just your own people's mistakes, but of my own family as well, especially my father. At least I can give merit to the Black Tree Pact: When they seek something for their ends, they shall take it with all of their heart, all of their mind and all of their body to obtain it. I was disgusted when my father and his cohorts insisted that nothing is wrong as they have done. Sitting idly by for the pass centuries with my father's 'Soft-handed' approach with the Younger Races. Only to come grovel to what they should have done when they heard of my dear sister's demise. I tried to reach him, before they sent Aliathra away. I had tried so many times, that we needed to march our armies together, learn from our 'Fallen-Kin', from the 'Kalimbans', turn those into our own strengths. Alas, Ethuilen grew too proud whilst our enemies and neighbors continue to grew powerful, even the colonists of Tor-Tavaiya no spits at the Astilbian Throne. That is when I knew, I had to take action. So that is when I marched with Lord Vokhol here now to this palace against my Parents. I had to amend my father's lack of urgency from dooming us all while there was still hope. What he was afraid to do." Queen Ithiel concluded her account of events.
"Then what of me and my people's concerns?" Uldin asked.
"You will still retain my full support I assure you again." With poised the Elven Queen affirmed "I may love my people, my country and of my ambitions but not to such I would murder my own parents. Even if Seeress Vultara and her cronies advocated to have them all hanged. I still retain my claim Astilbian Throne and thus full mastery of my people. That and I arranged my pieces so that I am an Equal to the Midnight Camarilla, not as its puppet. Aslanidor and Elisven are held captive, alive and well in a discreet place of my choosing. I would have love that you and my father share fruit and cheese together but alas, such times do not call for frivolous parties of idlemancing courtiers and… 'suitors'." Ithiel said. Her disgust spatting forth from her tongue.
"What about your brother then? Prince Valorion?" Uldin asked. "What do you intend to do with him?"
"Strength is needed for the trials ahead Emperor Uldin. If we wish to have peace reign once again, then we must let go of our old feuds and prepare for war. Alfel-Nora must remain adamant against the tides of darkness that has befallen before the world. My parents and those that so naïvely followed him were weak to continue on with their decadent path of sloth… of… idleness. I chose the path of diligence, of action."" Ithiel closed her fist, her voice emitting so much will that her long nails threatened to pierce the palms of her hand. "We gain nothing from both Brothers and his Army's demise. I have dispatched Tweeter Bird Messages to inform him of our change in authorities. Though… I expect that those who are still loyal to my Father, he would have already known by now." She sighed.
"You may call it 'treachery' back in Ysanigrad Emperor Uldin, but here it is just simply stateship in its rawest and purest of forms. You younger races still have so much you do not know that you fail to realize it only now." Vokhol added, teeth bristling with elven vanity. "
"We still have much things to do, especially with now you are safe here in Alfel-Nora's shore. I have prepared accommodations for you and all of your exiles at the Palace as my personal guest." Ithiel beckoned the Emperor. "Do tell… where is your daughter? I only ever see your son." Ithiel bent down to Arthurfrir's height and with a gentle smile held his hand quite motherly, that the young boy took her hand.
"T-they… They took her." Uldin answered.
Ithiel swallowed the dire news with much contrition. A brief crack in her otherwise halcyon façade.
"That is most dire, may Neneth have mercy of what horrors she must endure. She is probably suffering the same as what had befallen to my… my dear Sister… Aliathra." Ithiel exposed a hint of sorrow on her eyes for a brief second. But she immediately composed herself before the faintest scent of weakness scandalized her serene aura for this most delicate of rendezvous.
"So I can count in additional support from the Pact moving forward? I wish to personally coordinate with those Legionnaires I brought with me to form an Ar---" the exiled Emperor, with most of his answers addressed knew he had to deal with the cards he has been given now for the sake of ever returning to his homeland but was stopped by the gentle wave of pause Ithiel interrupted him with.
"Unfortunately, I must inform that you are to not leave the premises of my Palace without my express permission." Ithiel raised her finger and began to draw her lines onto the soil.
"I am not allowed leave your Palace? Are you… are you putting me under arrest?!" Uldin's pulse spiked.
"No, you are our Guest. That cannot leave." Ithiel shook her head. "You will retain all of your current accommodations worthy of your status. But my guards shall keep watch of your movements and actions much more closely from this day onwards."
"Your current leadership, at least when it comes to commanding your forces have been found wanting." Lord Vokhol explained. "Your Generals and all remaining forces shall be put under my direct command until we are able to secure a new stronghold within your Invaded Territories. That also includes your Chosen One, the one going by the name of Ser Garmhaic."
"I…I…" Uldin felt powerless. He is a prisoner in all but name to these Elves.
No better than a living trophy of Elven Dominance displayed within the Lareththor's Palace. But alas, he is in no room to bargain with the Elves in such a sickly position.
Contingency plans flooded his head as he began to think of schemes, he could still retain control of at least some of his forces. He could not afford to look weak in front of his subjects less his authority and the name of his Family are put into scrutiny. He will need to consult his Court Wizards for means of communicating with the outside world once the formalities have been finished.
"Take Heart!" the Usurper Queen cheered Uldin. "Once the Liberation of your Homeland is well underway as such there is a safe and secure stronghold in Glisiea to call your own once again, you will be able to finally retake your birthright as Emperor of Ysanigrad. If you do have more questions, then we may discuss them at the Palace. I had prepared a small banquet for your arrival." Ithiel ushered the Nobles.
[-]
The sounds of a Super Ospreys landing upon the large clearing in FOB Phoenix Nest tickled Agent Gary De Sardet's ears to the arrival of Samantha's Stryder Group and SEAL Teams shipped from the Aurora. Situated just a few dozen kilometers away from Ghana's Wall itself. The UFEAF had been slowly carving a path towards Ghana's Wall as they speak, but alas, harassment from the Elven Rangers and remaining Slaegian Resistance has seen a resurgence of no shorts of problems. That and Command has been mitigating the momentum initially won from Operation Haymaker to a crawl due to the possibility of hostages from the captured 88th Brigade Rangers being last seen taken into Ghana's Wall.
The Bureau Agent believes that Stryder Group's intervention will be the catalyst to turn this slog around. Holyfield has been left greatly disappointed that his plans have went off behind schedule.
"Mon chéri has to go to work now. I call you soon." De Sardet adieu his husband over the phone.
Karliah Silverdane, the former Collegiate Mage stood beside him. Her eyes gazed beyond the outer perimeter of FOB Phoenix Nest towards the direction of where Ghana's Wall is to be despite not being able to directly see the great bastion.
"I about five or so cycles ago, I had for one fortnight, walked onto those halls of that mighty fortress. I had always thought, that Ghana's Wall was a shield that defended the Empire from darkness for all of the many cycles it continued to proudly stand awaiting forth the Demonic Challenge. I never knew I would one day, to protect the people, I will have to tear it down… " she spoke with a slight tinge of lament on her lips
"Agent De Sardet." Captain Rose greeted him followed by the rest of her team. "And Karliah too." She was pleasantly surprised seeing the Mage here so far away from the Capital on such a short notice.
"I wish I could ride that Flying Machine of yours." She Blushed. "A-Ah… Greetings Samantha, I am glad that we cross paths once again."
"Your team have already been briefed on the situation here in Bevroren so I will tell you everything that just developed right now." Agent De Sardet walked towards to a Holomap. "Everyone please put your eyes on the screen. I will go through the finer details."
Attached across its surface was a Satellite Image of Ghana's Wall that was taken days ago along. There were highlights drawn around everywhere from red blotches highlights to an entire wall of digital photos of the missing UFEAF Rangers from 88th Mountain Brigade. There were additional accessories of additional information relevant to whatever pinpoints addressed about them.
"Let's get all of that 'non-disclosure' merde 'outside of this room' and let's get on with it." De Sardet puffed his chest.
"Operation: Safe Cracker will be split into three phases. Insertion, Infiltration and… le Gran Finale! Our main objectives are first to secure the Magical Relics stored in the fortress and the second is to rescue our men captured by those Savages. Each team will be assigned to a specific task: Alpha Unit shall consist of Stryder Group, SEAL Teams Four and Six will be in charge of getting those Prisoners out of there. You will be running down to the Dungeons and getting our men out of there before the unthinkable happens. I can only imagine the worse of what those Eighty-Eighter's are going through right now. If you find out they were all killed by the time you get there… just… try to find at least their Dogtags." De Sardet let in an emotional inhalation to swallow his emotions. A cold drop of sweat on his brow
A moment of silence followed inside the room. An empathetic solidarity with a determination to rescue them from the darkest pits of hell. Not to leave them abandoned and lost amidst the savagery of their captive states for many months.
"Bravo Unit will be on the other hand: SEAL Teams One, Two, and Five are going to be carting off the Magical Artifacts to the Super Osprey that isn't bolted down. And if they are too heavy for the Osprey to take, take some photos of them and then cast thermite into the room to destroy them. Miss Silverdane here will be accompanying you towards where they are likely to be stored in to help disable anything Arcane in nature that could get into your way. Additionally, you are also tasked to destroy all UFEAF Equipment that you may find to prevent the Natives from trying to reverse-engineer our equipment." The Bureau Agent continued. "One way or the other… We must not leave anything that the Slaegians could use against us for the foreseeable future. And lastly, Charlie Unit shall just be SEAL Team Three providing reconnaissance and long-range Sniper support from afar."
"I too… will also accompany you within Ghana's Walls to assist in disabling the many Sentry Wards and Traps the Fortress will likely have prepared for in the case of a siege." Karliah added. "I know because I had helped designed several of them the last time the Fortress needed to refurnish their aegis."
"Thanks to Miss Silverdane's info. We got a good bead in on the schematics of the whole Fortress here and what to expect when we get inside it." The Agent pointed to the Map.
Within the screen was a photograph of a hand-drawn parchment, the heavily classified schematics of the impregnable Fortress, aged into a golden hue detailed various waypoints the SEALs would efficiently flow into Ghana's Wall complex. This was above all else a lightning raid, not an assault.
"Karliah." De Sardet passed onto her. "Please elaborate on the fortress' layout."
"Ghana's Wall, also known as 'the Northern Aegis', is a large and heavily defended fortress similar to Little Hill to deter invasion from the North by the Daosne Beast Folks. However, Ghana Wall is much more heavily protected and much larger than Little Hill due to the frequency of raids and the ferocity of the Beast Folks far surpass that of the threat from the Orce Hordes and Southern Barbarians. Because of this, the Empire had invested, over the many cycles, numerous improvements on her defenses of Fortress compared to any other of their many bastions. More mataliwns of Legionnaires, best siege weapons, and the highest possible potencies of magical defenses and enchantments. This fortress is the second most heavily defended place in Imperial territory. Every year, the Cadfriogion y Lleng inspects the Fortress for any weaknesses so that they may address them before it could become a danger." Karliah lectured.
"These Daosne folks must be a real pain in the ass if they have to keep updating their stuff." One Seal commented.
"Both the prison that holds your captive brethren will be in the northwest of the fortress and the Arcaneum where the magical artifacts and scrolls are stored is in the far western part of the fortress. In order to Infiltrate the fortress without alarming the Garrison, the most discreet way through is a Supply Depot's Entrance facing against the Mountain. All of your ffuriannau will then work their way through the Underground Farm of the Fortress." Karliah points at the holographic layout of the fortress.
"Underground Farm?" Kayin smirked. He was quite impressed and envious of how well equipped the Fortress' facilities can provide.
And now he is tasked to impregnate it wide open.
"Phase One of the operation is to get to the Fortress itself first. Insertion into the Fortress will be tricky. The land beyond this Base, however, has been decorated with all sorts of booby traps and so many places for an ambush that we can't roll in much Ground Support from here outside of Missile Strikes from the Indian Sea like Artillery and Diversionary Assaults, etcetera. No thanks in part to those Ranger Elves. Already we got to ship in extra Medics and Droids coming over back at New Albany to treat over a hundred wounded by them. It's that bad! Thankfully, we got the Mystic Three and Miss Silverdane to help us through… especially for one… certain member of the Three." De Sardet pulled out a Cigarette from his pockets and ignited the shot of nicotine into his lungs.
When the mentioning of 'Elven Rangers' echoed into the room. All eyes turned their gaze towards Aliathra.
"Princess, this is where you come in." De Sardet finished his cigarette before smothering its embers with his muddied shoes. "As Ethuilen yourself, it was a risk bringing you along here. Especially since your brother is confirmed to be there. But we need to think like these Rangers if we are even to be able to get into spitting distance to Ghana's Wall. Can you assure me you can complete this mission they we need you to do it?"
"This process should be the same for Phase Two when you reach the Fortress proper. Only must be treated with extra diligence. All Hush-Hush mind you." De Sardet reminded. " Once in, split off then secure the POWs and Magical Artifacts. Get them all through the Underground Farm 'till the entrance of Supply Depot where some Super Ospreys will be waiting for you."
"So grab what is ours or whatever the Nerds want then nuke the place off from orbit right?" Crocker raised a question.
"Not quite I am afraid." De Sardet shook his head. "Our P.R. back home just went to shit when news of what happened to the 88th Mountain reached their Families. Media is on the warpath trying to cancel this war we are doing against such 'Primitive Folks' as they say. That is where Phase Three of the mission comes in. Just to make the Wigs and Press back home not try to pull our plugs out of our sweet asses in Gliesia, they want to publicly address a formal plea for surrender to the Garrison's Defenders once we managed to secure the last of the POW's and Artifacts. We will start an orbital bombardment onto the Fortress if they still remain stubborn." He explained.
"And let me say this: If that happens, Nothing, and I mean NOTHING shall be left of Ghana's Wall when the day is over. People or Building alike." De Sardet grimaced.
Everyone knew what the Bureau Agent is implying he intends to do with Ghana's Wall. Major Holyfield had the authority and full support of the CPC back from Earth to do the task and that was the end of this conflict as swiftly as is decisive as possible. There would be no more quarter once the Federation could finally set their gun's sight at the Fortress.
"I just hoped there was another way with this Miss Lareththor. But there isn't" The Bureau Agent turned to Aliathra. "If you cannot convince your brother and his forces to stand down, Command will have no choice but to send him and his men into Hell with the Fortress. Do you understand me?" Sadet spoke in a cautionary resonance from his voice.
"I do, Ser De Sardet." The Elf Nodded. "I will try my best to convince him and his soldiers to surrender. I pray to Nenya that he would listen to reason and not throw away his and his own army's lives for nothing. I don't want to see any more of my people perish. He is my brother after all!", Aliathra saddens at the prospect of her failure.
"Do not worry, Alianthra! You got this." Diaz cheered her up. "You have been through worse! You still got us." Followed by the rest of her friends.
[-]
"Now is the time everyone. Take those Pills I made." Iris told everyone.
Before their departure, Iris had synthesized a special Magical Pill, combining her knowledge of arcane potions and the potency of the Federation's extensive pharmaceutical technology, she made a special pill that allows its consumers to see through Enemy Illusions for several hours. A micro-solidified variation of a Potion of True Seeing. These pills are meant for the non-magical members of this Operation to remain in focus throughout their mission.
"No need to bring about so many fragile flasks. Just put them in a pouch and swallow it…" Karliah marveled at the solid capsules the Vampire Witch made.
"I can't imagine what does Eighty-Eighter's suffered through with those Illusion Magicks. It must have been terrifying." Kayin followed suit.
"If only you and the rest of Stryder were there. We would have blown that place up topside by now after we robbing them blind." A SEAL Fireteam Leader lamented. "Are you sure these pills will work?" he held out his share of Iris' Alchemy out.
"It will work perfectly!" Iris smiled, her fangs baring out euphorically. "I stake my reputation as the newly appointed Chief of Arcane Engineering and Technomancy for this. Now do swallow it all down gently." She winked.
The Pills were tasteless but even then, some of the men were still not unsure if this will protect them from enemies Magicks.
"So how did you make this Potion… I mean 'Pill of True Seeing'?" one of the other SEAL's curiously asked.
"Well, I can say what is inside them…" Iris raised a haughty finger to demonstrate her acumen. "The eyes of Simurgh Pups, Thidar's Seat crushed into a fine powder, the antlers and the urinary organs of a Forest Elementa. It's 'testicles' as I love to jest." She smiled with much poise.
"Fuck. Its balls?! Really Iris?" Obediah cringed. The pill dissolved quickly upon contact with saliva for faster delivery.
"I have been forced to eat wors. But Pups?! That's just cruel." the SEAL shuddered as he took a sip of his canteen to wash down the Witch's Pill onto his throat.
"Oh don't worry. I practiced the Alchemist's priodol. They did not suffer after I had I slit their throats. And Elementa's cannot feel pain." Iris soothed the party's discomforts.
"That is not what he's mad about Iris…" Clay cringed.
"Hold." Aliathra, who stood on point, halted the march. Her ears pervaded sensing that there is danger up ahead.
The Trek towards Karliah's coordinates was arduous but not as arduous as to account for the Ethuilen Rangers' devious machinations for Stryder and their SEAL Team allies. Aliathra was as quiet yet energetic as the masking autumn winds that day. Being a Ranger herself, she knew all of her former colleagues favored tactics, highlighting out the various traps and means to avoid or defuse them with the true sight of her Cybernetic Eyes. She pledged to herself and the rest of the SEALS that for any Elven Ranger she encounters on the journey through, she would non-lethally neutralize them. That same opposition will be tagged for containment by FOB Phoenix Bases' soldiers later on.
"It's huge!" Samantha activated the Binoculars feature on her visor whilst pulling out her camera for a quick picture of Ghana's Wall with her. She knew that it was likely going to be the last photo of it being intact in all of its prideful majesty before the Amelioration's massive assault.
The stories were indeed true upon baring it with her own two eyes. Massive hundred-foot walls layered with the venerable stone place in between a gorge. The Slaegian and Ethuilen Banner hanging proudly side by side like a bridal crown to display its defiance against the grim darkness of the wilds beyond.
"Security details on the ground are tight but it looks like they are all focused on addressing the Refugee's coming into the place from the South," Samantha reported. "Hundreds of Foot Mobiles, equipped with swords and spears. Mix of Elves and Humans."
"What about on top of the wall?" Crocker pointed out.
Samantha's Binoculars zoomed upwards towards Fortress's upper levels and scanned thoroughly.
"Marksmen, equipped with Bows on the Walls. We also got about three… no four… no… Five flying units. I think Hippogryphs patrolling the skies so we got to watch out. For the rest on the Wall, I got followed by several Catapults, Ballistaaaa… What the---" Captain Rose was brushing along the Fortress' defenses when her binoculars suddenly bore the image of a decrepit visage filled with gangrene, soot, and blood. It was a person's face. Broken to barely any recognizable identification. His exposed body hung inside a Gibbet as carrion birds began to pick clean off its corpse.
It was the corpse of a hapless 88th Brigade Scout Ranger. Samantha can recognize the frayed underclothing of his trousers, boots, and shirt bearing the Federation Armed Forces Iconography. The poor Ranger was displayed like a macabre trophy above Ghana's Wall. Several of the Fortress' Garrison would sometimes throw loose pebbles onto the Gibbet and exchange taunting words to the debased corpse.
"What did you see?" Crocker asked her.
"They are executing them." Samantha's blood boiled. Her hands tightened their grip around the binoculars. "I…have one of the missing Rangers. He's confirmed K.I.A." Her eyes reverberated; she was never going to forget that man's lifeless face.
"We double-time then." Crocker readied the batteries of his Hercules-Exosuit for the mission ahead and cocked his Machine Gun.
Samantha inhaled and exhaled. Venting out her emotions to herself. She cannot save those in the Gibbets, but she can at least save those who could still be alive inside Ghana's Wall.
Let Operation: Safe Cracker begin.
