30 km, at the borders of the kingdom of Gallimard.August 11th, 678 AD."Aim and fire!"
The officer's command rang out, and immediately the archers drew their bows, taking careful aim at the distant enemy. Within moments, they released a deadly volley, filling the air with the eerie whistle of more than 300 arrows. The enemy forces, caught off guard and distracted by the advancing knights clad in armour, were helpless against the onslaught.
As the archers lowered their bows, they watched with satisfaction as the knights of the 1st and 2nd battalions charged into the fray, taking the brunt of the combat. Smiles spread across the archers' faces as they observed the enemy's collapse under the relentless assault. Without adequate armour, the opposing forces suffered heavy casualties from the arrow storm, leaving them defenceless and exposed.
From a vantage point on a nearby hill, a commanding figure observed the scene below. The general's view allowed him to witness the full scope of the battle, where thousands of men in the rear ranks watched as the front lines clashed with the forces of Gallimard. The general's men, protected by their heavy armour, easily overpowered the poorly trained enemy soldiers. As he watched the battle unfold, a smirk spread across his face, and he chuckled, knowing victory was within his grasp.
Beside him, his officers also watched the battle with satisfaction. They saw the Gallimard forces begin to retreat in disarray. Soon, a messenger from the frontlines climbed the hill, breathless and eager to deliver the news of their victory.
"General Lazarus! I bring news—the Gallimard forces are retreating to the deep woods. Request for—"
Before the messenger could finish, General Lazarus interrupted with a decisive wave of his hand.
"There's no need to chase down fleeing peasants. Our men need rest, and quickly. We march on their capital tomorrow. Inform the 1st and 2nd battalions to return at once. The battle is won."
Without another word, the messenger hurried off to relay the order to the battalion commanders. Confident in their victory, Lazarus rose from his seat, stretching after the long hours spent observing the battle. Turning back toward the rear of the hill, he began the walk back to camp, joined by his officers. Some of the lower-ranked officers stayed behind, lingering to watch as their forces began to regroup and withdraw from the battlefield.
With the battle won, General Lazarus knew that by dawn, his forces would march toward the kingdom of Gallimard. The earlier clash had been a decisive victory, but he was acutely aware that reinforcements wouldn't be coming. He faced a daunting challenge: Gallimard's royal guards were renowned as the toughest in the southern continent. With only 30,000 soldiers at his command, Lazarus understood that a misstep could lead to a massacre. Defeat would bring severe consequences for him and his officers. The general debated whether to meticulously plan the next battle or to strike quickly, hoping to catch the enemy off guard. "Victory or death," he muttered, recalling the motto that had guided him since his days at the Officer Academy. He had risen through the ranks, earning fame for his triumph over the kingdom of Leilo.
As he made his way back to the rear, the stench of decaying bodies hung heavy in the air, remnants of the earlier battle. The soldiers hadn't bothered to clear the dead, leaving them to rot under the cries of circling crows.
As they neared the camp, the sound of marching feet echoed behind them. Lazarus turned to see the 1st and 2nd battalions returning, exhausted from the fight. A young runner approached, breathless but eager to deliver his news.
"General! The 1st and 2nd have returned. Reports indicate we lost over a hundred men, while Gallimard suffered over a thousand casualties."
Lazarus allowed himself a small smile at the favourable report. "Good, that's one less worry. You may go now."
Hearing the general's satisfaction, the messenger quickly joined the ranks of foot soldiers behind him, understanding his lower status meant he couldn't walk with the officers. As Lazarus glanced at the officers by his side, he took pride in having such capable and loyal men. Noticing their exhaustion and hunger, he smiled and announced, "With this victory, we'll soon have a grand feast. I hope you're all ready for some giant boar."
His words sparked cheers among the officers, and their spirits lifted at the thought of the promised meal. Even the nearby soldiers, overhearing the news, grew eager. Lazarus then turned to his second-in-command, who had approached him for orders. "Make sure the soldiers get better rations after this. They've earned it."
Lazarus knew the importance of rewarding his men, especially after their crucial role in the victory. With the orders given, the officer rushed off to tend to the weary battalions. As the sun began to set and the day drew to a close, Lazarus reflected on the unexpected length of the day. Tomorrow, they would march towards the inner border of Gallimard. He sighed, gazing at the stars emerging above, relieved that so many of his men had returned safely. With a contented smile, he turned and headed back to his tent.
...
…
Royal palace chambers
August 12th 678 AD.
11:00 PM.
Lightning crackled violently across the sky, striking the ground with sizzling intensity as a small portal materialized. Through the swirling vortex stepped the elder mage and Queen Galadriel. As the portal closed behind them, the queen noticed an immediate shift in the atmosphere; the air felt fresher, and the surroundings were distinctly different from where they had just been. It was nearly midnight.
Galadriel, feeling the disorientation of time, followed the mage down the familiar hallway they had previously traversed. Her mind buzzed with questions about the city they had just left—its lack of protective walls, the absence of visible forts and castles, and the rapid return to their homeland. Unable to contain her curiosity, she finally voiced her concerns.
"Elder, I must ask: why did we return to the capital so abruptly? We only had a brief glimpse of the city."
The question was valid; after spending such a short time in a place that seemed so intriguing, the queen was naturally puzzled. The elder mage, continuing their walk without turning to face her, responded.
"Your majesty, the situation is quite surprising. The world we visited had very little magic—none at all, in fact, for a nation with such impressive architecture."
The queen was taken aback. The idea of a technologically advanced nation with no magic was perplexing. "How could such a society achieve such technological feats without the aid of magic?" she asked, her mind racing to reconcile the discrepancy.
The mage gave a thoughtful nod. "It is indeed extraordinary. Their advancements are the result of an exceptional mastery of technology and engineering, a testament to their ingenuity."
"But Elder, it's impossible for a city like the one I saw to be entirely without magic," Galadriel protested. "Even our cities rely on magic for construction and daily life. How could they build such towering structures, including that enormous bridge, without any magic at all?"
The elder mage, momentarily at a loss, replied, "Your majesty, I understand your confusion. From what I know, visitors to that world have never reported any visible flow of mana. We returned to the capital because staying there longer could have trapped us; without the flow of mana, my spells and magic would become ineffective."
Galadriel absorbed this explanation, but her curiosity was still piqued. She couldn't help but ask, "If there's no magic on their side, how were we able to open a portal so easily?"
The mage sighed, acknowledging the complexity of the question. "The answer lies in the ancient texts I studied. Over 300 years ago, mages from our world discovered this land. Back then, it was just a barren landscape of sand and trees. They noted that while there was no active mana flow, two ancient mana stones were hidden underwater. These stones allowed them to create a portal, and a small amount of residual mana from these stones still exists."
"But if these stones have such a limited range and are meant to be hidden, how did we manage to use them for so long?" the queen pressed, her curiosity growing.
The elder mage continued, her tone resigned. "The ancient mana stones can indeed open gates but are not suitable for combat or extended use. Their range is fixed and limited. As an elder mage, I was able to tap into this residual mana for a short time, but it's not a sustainable source. The flow of magic in the stones is minimal and cannot support prolonged magical activities."
Galadriel nodded, though her mind was still occupied with the mystery of this world's magical disparity. The elder mage's explanations provided some clarity, but many questions remained about the nature of this extraordinary land.
question provided, Galadriel looks at the front to see the hallway being close to ending, and seeing that more questions can be given, he immediately wonders about the mana stones and looks back at the mage to see the fate of these mana stones.
"And the stones?"
The elder mage turned to Queen Galadriel with a serious expression. "As I mentioned, these are no ordinary mana stones. They're ancient, capable of enduring for centuries if kept in good condition. According to the old texts, they could last over 400 years. However, newer research indicates they might only have about 50 years left before their mana becomes too weak to use effectively."
Galadriel's eyes widened. "400 years?! I thought these stones were just regular magic stones. I assumed they'd be similar to those we use in our own country. Why haven't we utilized their technology?"
The mage took a deep breath. "To clarify, the nation we visited is known as America. When our mages first encountered it 400 years ago, they were astonished by the grandeur of its structures. We tried to replicate their technology, but our attempts were unsuccessful. The ancient records indicated that the tribes and creatures there were much weaker compared to those in our world. Despite our admiration for their advancements, we couldn't figure out how they built such marvels without magic. Our research concluded that without their unique approach, copying their achievements was beyond our reach."
Galadriel's frustration mounted. "So all we did was admire their technology? We're facing a war, and our enemies will be at our gates within four months. How does this help our situation?"
The queen's growing agitation was evident as she sat down, burying her face in her hands and sobbing. "It's hopeless! We've tried everything and failed. We've lost allies, and now we face defeat. What can we possibly do?"
The elder mage, seeing the queen's despair, acted decisively. She tapped Galadriel on the head with her staff, a sharp sound echoing in the hallway. "Enough! Your crying won't help us. As Queen Galadriel the IXth, you must show strength and resolve. Your people need a leader who will fight for their survival."
The queen looked up, her expression a mix of surprise and determination. "Thank you, Elder. It's the first time someone has spoken to me so directly."
Seeing the change in the queen's demeanour, the elder mage smiled. "What's your next step, Your Majesty?"
Galadriel took a deep breath. "We don't have many allies. What we need now is a country that can assist us in this war and protect our people."
The mage considered this and then proposed, "Your Majesty, what if we reach out to the nation we visited through the portal?"
The queen's initial reaction was scepticism. "You want us to contact them? How can we do that? Our magic doesn't seem capable of opening a gate to their world."
The elder mage stepped closer, her expression thoughtful. "I know the locations of the remaining mana stones. The ones used to open the portal are hidden, but we can utilize them. We could send a message through these stones and request their assistance."
Galadriel's interest was piqued. "Where are these stones located?"
The elder mage replied confidently, "The stones are near the structure you saw, known as the Golden Gate Bridge."
Galadriel's eyes lit up with realization. "The Golden Gate Bridge? So we can actually contact them?"
The elder mage nodded. "Yes. If we can use the mana stones there, we might just be able to seek their help and turn the tide of this war."
The queen's resolve strengthened as she prepared to act on this new plan, hopeful that it might be the key to saving her kingdom.