16. Chapter 15: The calm before the storm

CHAPTER 15: THE CALM BEFORE THE STORM

9 PM. The time where most of the Japanese population was at home, eating dinner with family and friends. And even for those who were still outside partying or drinking, social media notifications would pass on the Prime Minister's message swiftly.

All the different TV and radio channels played a short message to forgive about the short interruption of their program. And for those who had a screen in front of them, the face of the Prime Minister of Japan, Motoi Shinzo, appeared.

He was behind a stand with five or six microphones in front of him, and a single sheet of paper on it. After inhaling deeply, he began speaking.

"Japanese men, women, children and elderly. Foreigners of all nations watching or listening to me, I have important news for all of you today. We have all seen the mysterious Gate appear in Tokyo recently. And we still have no clue as to why it is there, or how it works. However, what we do know is that there are people on the other side. We've all seen the footage of the first men we sent on the other side. We've all seen the humanoid fox-like shepherdess. We've all seen the wyverns, as well as their riders. And we also know they have attacked us with deadly force. However, We've been careless in authorising such an endeavour. This time, the Diet has accepted my proposal to send a full-fledged JSDF force that will establish a camp around the Gate on the other side."

Motoi took a moment to drink from a glass of water under the stand. He wasn't thirsty, and he had barely begun speaking so his throat was fine. But the idea of announcing something so big, as well as the future problems it would impose made him stressed a lot.

"HOWEVER! It is important to point out that the JSDF will be there only for PROTECTION! There are people on the other side, and we still don't know about their intentions… There are also beasts in varying shape and size, and I believe such protection to be necessary."

He made sure to avoid telling that the people on the other side were in fact an army. But he was confident he could open negotiations and talk a peaceful way out.Even if an army was all but a good show of intention. With a little luck, they were as scared as Motoi was.

"Half of the force sent to the other side will be composed of civilians. Scientists, diplomats, engineers, architects… What we want to show isn't our sword. It's what we can bring to those people, with the hope that they will accept them. That day, we will accomplish what humanity has wanted to do since space travel! The discovery of a new civilization! In order to represent the entirety of earth, a delegation from each nation will be allowed to cross the Gate once the initial ground will have been cleared of any threats by the JSDF. Then, diplomatic relations will be opened with the nations of the Special Region."

He waited for a moment, letting the announcement sink in.

"I know a lot of you have many questions for me, or the Japanese government. However, I cannot answer them all right now. I will host a meeting with journalists in a three days' time, where I hope your curiosity will be sated. Until then, I hope you will keep believing in me."

Motoi bowed to the camera, then the live recording stopped.

"Are you sure this was a good idea? Many want nothing to do with what's on the other side…"

Motoi accepted the handkerchief his secretary, Kazuma, handed him and wiped his face.

"I don't think so, Kazuma. What you say may be true, but even more yearn to meet new faces… The age of earth exploration is over. The age of space exploration is yet to come. This age… May be the age of dimensional exploration…"

The secretary nodded and followed Motoi outside, to the car waiting to take Motoi to his secured house for the night. As the silent engine quietly rumbled, Motoi watched through the window the city of Tokyo.

For now, the situation was under control. Should he have announced to have only Japanese troops sent to the other side, he would have become instantly the most hated person on earth. After all, the decision to represent mankind in a whole new world couldn't be taken so lightly, and the repercussions from the United Nations were sure to be extremely heavy.

However, he made sure to invite any nation who wanted to send a delegation along with Japanese troops. That way, every country, even the big superpowers, would be forced to comply to whatever condition he had. After all, no one wanted to pass on the chance to have first eyes in the likely goldmine that was the special region. And even better, if a nation from earth offended Japan, the other nations were sure to side against the nation in order to earn more favors from the Japanese.

And as time passed, a question popped up in his mind.

Did he just sign for the bright future he envisioned? A future where Tokyo shined even more than it did currently? A future where famine, sickness and grievance disappeared?

Or did he sign for a ruined world, led by barbarians with no notion of mercy?

For now, he couldn't tell. All he could do was to put his faith into the JSDF's hands, and trust his generals.

"Heyaaaah!" shouted Volgrim, pulling his hammer back into position.

For now, the fight between the two kings was at a stalemate. Duran stayed on the defensive most of the time, as Volgrim was a tricky fellow. His skill with the two-handed hammer was admirable, and despite it not being a dueling weapon by far he left very little openings.

That said, Duran wasn't to be underestimated either. The little number of openings Volgrim left, Duran exploited mercilessly. And the only thing that kept him from winning by spilling first blood was Volgrim's positioning who let his armor take the blows.

On the other hand, Duran had to be extremely cautious. A two-handed hammer was already dangerous by itself, but in the hands of a trained fighter its threat raised tenfold. A single blow would mean Duran's defeat as the heavy weapon was sure to bust the armor and break some bones beneath.

Another fact which forced Duran to be cautious was his eye. Because of the fact that one of his eyes was rendered useless in a battle a decade ago, he had to do with the other eye who left a large blind spot on his left side. It was a weakness that the Northern King had immediately spotted and used to launch attacks which forced Duran to stay on the defensive.

Both fighters eyed each other, looking for any opportunity and walking in circles. Duran was fortunate to have a relatively open helmet which allowed him to breathe somewhat unhindered, but he could hear Volgrim's labored breathing behind the helmet. The northerner's helmet certainly offered more protection than Duran's, but the thin T-shaped slit left little air in and out.

This time, Duran took the initiative, thrusting his spear at the northerner's knees in a rapid movement. Volgrim immediately shifted his feet to let the spear whistle in the wind, missing the knee by a hair's breadth and launched a counterattack. He stepped forward and swatted the spear aside with a first hit. However, Volgrim's next action surprised Duran. Instead of attacking while Duran was vulnerable with his weapon pulled away, the northerner repeated the attack against the spear.

"He wants to disarm me!" Was Duran's thought. And in a way, it made sense. Duran had wisely used the length of the spear to keep Volgrim and his hammer at bay, but if he couldn't maintain that distance between himself and his opponent then he lost a tactical advantage he couldn't afford to lose. And considering Volgrim was tiring faster than Duran, it was understandable the northerner wanted to end that fight as fast as possible.

With that in mind, Duran quickly pulled the spear back at created some more distance. Volgrim pulled back the hammer with a tired sigh and faced Duran, being threatened by the point of the spear.

A string of foreign words were sent at Duran and while the interpreter was fidgeting around on the outside of the clearing, the Elbian was the first to speak.

"No need to translate that, interpreter…"

Indeed, while the words were unknown, it was pretty clear Duran had been insulted once more.

The northern king yelled again as he approached, avoided Duran's thrust and blocked the spear under his armpits. Any fighter would try to immediately pull his spear back, but Duran knew he wouldn't have the time. He immediately dropped the spear, retreated a few steps and pulled his arming sword out of its scabbard.

He had made the right decision, as Volgrim's hammer hit the ground with a loud thud where Duran was just before. And once more, a throng of insults left Volgrim's lips.

"He's telling you to stop running away, king Duran…" said the interpreter in a remarkably useless translation.

As he observed his enemy, Duran was now sure he could be a little more aggressive. Stepping forward, he aimed at Volgrim's shoulder with a sword thrust and the northerner parried the blade, then used the shaft of his hammer to push Duran back violently. Stepping away, he saw that the northerner was already mid-swing in an overhead attack. Duran moved aside to avoid and swiped at Volgrim's legs. And just as he felt his blade bite into leather, cloth and flesh he heard more than felt Volgrim's hammer crash onto his left pauldron, crushing the armor with ease. Despite his tired state, Volgrim had managed to reposition his hammer at the last moment, a feat only the best could hope to accomplish.

"Halt!"

The priest of Emroy's voice forced the two opponents to a stop. Duran sighed, and sheathed back his sword. Volgrim immediately pulled his helmet off and threw it to the ground, balanced the hammer on his shoulders and inhaled loudly.

Both fighters weren't in the best state. Both breathless because of the fight and the stress, but also relieved that no serious injury had been dealt.

And now that adrenaline was starting to fade, Duran was made aware of the pain in his left shoulder. His left arm was dangling awkwardly at his side.

At the priest's order, Kelimel started to remove Duran's left arm's armour pieces while a northern soldier helped Volgrim to remove his boots. And as the priest examined the wounds, his decision was quickly made public.

"The two fighters have fought under Emroy's gaze, and the winner has been blessed with His will! King Duran, the Lion of Elbe has a dislocated shoulder, but no blood has been drawn! King Volgrim, the Bear of the Frozen Wastes has a deep cut under his knees, and blood has been drawn! King Duran has bested King Volgrim! Under Emroy's law, all wrongdoing must be therefore acknowledged and excused!"

The northern king may be a hot-headed warrior, but he still was a man who respected traditions and religions. And as an accomplished warrior, he knew himself how important Emroy's blessing was. For that reason, he approached Duran slightly limping and humbly bowed while talking. The interpreter hastily did his duty.

"King Volgrim wishes to apologize for the insults he said towards you, king Duran. You have proved yourself a great warrior, and he is glad to get to know you. Regarding the food situation of the allied armies, he takes back his demands."

Duran figured that Volgrim wasn't bowing very low, but it was low enough for a King making an apology to another. Satisfied, Duran answered with the tone and confidence of a winner.

"I, King Duran of Elbe, accepts your apology. Let us forget the bad blood between us."

Satisfied to see that Emroy had been properly honoured today, the priest announced the end of the duel before almost lovingly taking out his sword from the ground and wiping the dirt on it. Soon enough, all guards were gathered and the noble crowd made its way back to the Sultan's camp.

"King Volgrim. King Duran. It was a remarkable duel that you fought, and I must congratulate both of you for that display of skill."

While most kings agreed with the Sultan in an approving rumble, there were two or three voices who weren't happy. Because of Volgrim's loss, the situation hadn't changed at all and all the monarchs still had to spend their treasure to feed their armies. Raising his hand, the Sultan asked for silence.

"I congratulate you again, but-"

He was cut by another man who talked in an irritated voice.

"Let's cut to the chase, we all know why we're here today!"

Every head turned towards the source of the voice, and when they recognized the speaker most understood why he allowed himself to speak so bluntly.

The man was covered in mostly turquoise and gold loose cloth and an elaborate turban as high as his head from which a number of symbols and trinkets hung and reflected the light around him. Behind the cloth a well-polished armor made of some kind of brass-like material added even more to the dazzling feeling, and at his belt hung a decorated scimitar of steel, gold, jewels and delicate engravings.

Sardasso the prince of the Seas. If each area of Falmart had their famous monarchs, excluding Emperor Molt, then King Duran the Lion of Elbe represented the centre of Falmart. High King Jormandur represented the north. The red Shogun Kamiro represented the east, but he was said to arrive in a days' time. The Shah of all the Shahs, Cyrus the Great represented the west.

And Sardasso, the Prince of the Seas represented the south. While his lands weren't the strongest in terms of military might, he was the richest of them all, some even said he surpassed the Emperor in wealth. And in addition to his wealth, the man was blessed with a cunning mind and a handsome face which conquered the hearts of any being. It was said that even demi-humans of all sex and size found him handsome. Although Duran thought of it as nothing more than rumors, it was also said he was a descendant of a godly bloodline.

"Large and powerful our alliance may be, without a strong leader we are like a headless chicken! We need to choose a marshall!"

Silence permeated the tent as his words were processed.

Then everything exploded in shouting and screaming. No one could be heard properly as everyone tried to outshout all the others. And frankly, such an effervescence could be understood.

Traditionally, an army was led by the highest-ranking soldier. But when multiple soldiers shared the same rank, then a marshall had to be chosen. However, when fifteen men all kings and monarchs shared the same status of vassal, who was to be chosen?

"I'm the one who brought the most soldiers!" Claimed Count Kagrimm. "Soldiers? You mean your horde of untrained and unequipped levies?" answered Duke Ligu, earning a few boisterous laughs from his neighbours.

"Soldiers? Obviously the marshall needs to have won the most favours from the Gods, so it should be me!" retorted the king of Eldrim, pointing at his helmet with his gauntleted hand. His close ties with the priesthood of Zufmuut was no secret, and the golden plating on top of the helmet sported iconographies of the religious order. He had the powerful chivalric order of the shining lance at his orders as well.

"The Holiest? Don't make me laugh! I have more temples on my lands than you have won so-called "favours" from the gods! Shouldn't I be the Marshall then?" answered back Cyrus the Great, hinting at the large number of pilgrimage sites based on his lands as well as all the temples around them.

Some were less tactful about the conversation, such as Volgrim barking a few words in his language and crashing his hammer through the wooden table before continuing to argue with the other northern high kings at his side.

Some straight up threatened everyone such as Sardasso telling he would have his army of corsair and sailors pillage the coast of anyone that disagreed with him. And based on pretty recent history, he wouldn't hesitate to do so.

And of course, Duran didn't want to be left out. Being the marshall meant being the commander of a force of more than two hundred thousand troops which was quite the feat. In addition to the fame and glory, the marshall would have to choose how, when and who would participate in a battle. And he feared that most of the monarchs had their eyes blinded by greed.

"The Marshall must have the most battle experience, I shall be it!" He shouted.

"Battle experience?" Shouted back one of the monarchs. Duran quickly recognized him as a lord from the far east who sported an impressive mustache and a face full of wrinkles. Just like Volgrim, his age apparently didn't keep him from wearing with ease an exotic armor and a no less impressive curved sword as high as the man wielding it.

"I was there when my father's lands were being conquered by the Emperor! I fought tooth and nail for every inch of ground! And after our defeat and the Emperor going back to Sadera, I had to suppress at least twenty rebellions from vassals who saw my family as weak! I've fought and won more battles than you ever did, Pup of Elbe! I deserve the position of Marshall!"

A few monarchs didn't say anything, as they knew they didn't have the guts and the skills to lead such a huge army. Or maybe it was the fact that the marshall would likely be the target for assassins? It was hard to know. The young king of Esperia watched with anxiety in his eyes as his new mentor, King Duran, tried to defend his point.

Contrary to what a marshall was supposed to do, the allied monarchs were currently all but allied.

Hello there, author here.

I'm back after having started university, and having set up in a new place.

I tried having two chapters ready, but I simply didn't have the time. So for now, here's a single chapter. I may or may not manage to finish writing the second chapter tomorrow, I don't know. Also, a close family member is currently in a very serious condition at the hospital, so I don't have my mind completely focused on writing, I'm sure you can understand that.

draegon75: that's a war crime, and I'm sure not a single japanese soldier who saw that won't speak about the sight they've seen and how it can traumatize them.

BrokenLifeCycle: In fact, I think they'll be able to legally send their forces through. You'll see how in the later chapters.

V1kingz-98: Considering Falmart is a medieval society where 90% of people can't read, dropping leaflets would only give the Allied Armies more fire starter.

plasma123fire: You suspect right :). It's not exactly tape ghost 10 as it was aimed at an asian culture. The sound played through the Gate are ones made of recorded "Apprehension Engine" tracks. It's basically one of the instruments horror movie sound effects are made with, there's videos about it on youtube.

And well, if we are getting spooked by sounds we know are for horror movies, You can imagine the effect it has on people from a superstitious medieval society.

And about the toasted jeep? Well, it's just a wreck now, so it's not that heavy. I assume with ropes and animals pulling it on a cart it wouldn't be impossible.

last admiral: The allied armies and the empire troops got wrecked in the LN and anime only because the author wanted to. There's no way, even with overwhelmingly superior firepower and technology, that they beat so easily an army composed of countless beings who can fly, use magic (not a lot of them, but still. Elves can fucking summon thunder. No matter what vehicle you use or who you are, you're not gonna walk away unscathed from a thunderstrike. And there's no way the empire has seen that and thought "yeah we're gonna ignore that military power just because we don't like elves lul"). And I assume a lot of other beings can use some form of magic.

So no, the JSDF won't just blast away the allied armies.

As usual, thanks for the comments, they mean a lot.

See you next time!