Operation report
Designation: Rising rose
Day 5: 31st of July, 2070
Coros, the capital of Zirith, surrenders. General of the fifth army, Delsaran Bryora, has been killed by Captain Logan Connors along with several of his high-ranking officers. More than half of his forces have fled the city, presumably due to the death of their commanders. The dutches of Zirith, Taila Gran, has stated that she will make a public apology to the Rosian nobility and the United States Army.
Fort Mundus has surrendered. After suffering catastrophic losses, the defenders of Mundus knelt in surrender. In the four days of brutal warfare, the defenders lost a vast majority of their force, machinery, and a modest amount of infrastructure. Most of the defending forces that survived however fled via underground tunnels. Some of the prisoners attacked the soldiers, attempting to steal their weapons and use them against them. They were stopped however and ceremonially executed in front of the others.
The United States Navy and Marine Corps have assaulted the unprepared port city of Lashil. Due to a lack of able defending ships, the city did not pose a threat to the navy vessels, which eliminated wall-mounted defenses. The marines, led by Colonel Robert Miller, landed in the city shortly after. However, stiff resistance was met in the form of magic and dwarven machines.
Day 6: 1st of August, 2070
Infantry and armored brigades have advanced deeper into Rosian territory. The cities and towns welcomed them with open arms. Ever since the war began, more and more people have been forming uprisings. Most of the elven forces stationed in Opherin have fled north, where the 8th army had launched an attack on the castle of Molak. The vast majority of outposts surrendered and posed no threat to the U.S. Army forces, which are making their way toward the port city of Torfa.
Colonel Robbert Miller has made great progress in the siege of Lashil. While the marines have suffered casualties, the enemy has retreated back to their main garrison building. Colonel Miller states that the siege will end in less than a day.
Other developments: Upon launching the Prototype Orbital Camera Tubes or POCTs, DARPA has managed to map out the continent of North Altia. The results were somewhat shocking to those present but many suspected this to be the case ever since they were given maps by the Meilume capital library. The continent is similar in not only size but also shape to North America. More research is needed and the Meilume capital library offers information.
---
U.S.-controlled outpost near Morh, Opherin
2nd of August, 2070
"I cannot believe we have come this far west in such a short time.", said one of the Alston knights sitting at a fire.
"Me neither.", said a knight from Dothen, "Their power is extraordinary. It makes me feel like we are here for no reason."
"No, I do not believe so.", spoke a knight of Opherin as he swallowed a spoonful of stew, "They use the tribals as scouts and vanguard. My guess is, we can be useful in sieges."
"How so?"
"Think about it. Their weapons kill men from afar. But what if they get too close? Did any one of you see a human with a sword or shield?". The men around looked at each other and shook their heads. "They need protection against arrows. Oh, I can see it now. Flying in those iron dragonflies and charging into battle alongside the human warriors."
The Alston knight chuckled, "Opherin. You never change."
"Do they not unnerve you, though?", the knight of Dothen asked, "The human soldiers, I mean. Those with masks. They go first and fast. What are they called?"
"Rangers.", spoke a new voice from behind them. It was a tall man with grey and black hair. His face was one of a veteran, a man who fought in a hundred battles. On his left side was a woman with brown hair and a smaller build, at least a head smaller than the man. On the right was another man, but this one had blonde hair and green eyes. Each of them wore a symbol, a green and blue shield with a red lightning bolt.
"We're rangers, son.", the man spoke again, "First company of the first battalion. I'm first lieutenant James Wilson. These are sergeant Emma Davis and staff sergeant Jacob Brown."
The knights stood up and the knight of Opherin was the first to speak, "An honor to meet you. Ten-man commander Ozlo Canta. These are knights Bilmor and Frenn."
The Rosians saluted in their traditional fashion. The rangers did so as well.
"May we sit?", James asked.
"Of course.", Frenn said.
"If I'm not mistaken.", Jacob said, "You are from Alston. And Bilmor is from Dothen."
Surprised, the two men smiled and Frenn asked, "How did you guess?"
"It's useful to remember your allies.", Jacob answered, "But anyway, you were talking about us being unnerving?"
This made the Rosians quite nervous. Their intention wasn't to anger or insult the humans. They felt like this might turn into a problem if it isn't resolved quickly.
Frenn tried to mutter out an apology but was interrupted by Emma, who laughed and patted him on the back, "Don't sweat it, pinky. No offense taken."
Sitting around the fire, the six soldiers exchanged pleasantries. It was a strange site to behold. Two groups from two different worlds acting like they're old friends. In war, any ally you can get is a good one. So long as the cause remains mutual.
"I heard about what you said.", James spoke to Ozlo, "And you're right to a degree. We don't fight the way you do, much less the way the elves do. We need experts, someone to watch our backs."
Ozlo nodded. Of course, he suspected that there might be other reasons. But it wasn't worth making a fuss over.
"I wanted to ask about your leader.", Bilmor said as he pointed his spoon toward a man standing not too far from them, "He is your captain, correct?"
"Yeah.", Emma replied, "Captain Logan Connors. A legend amongst rangers. Youngest to be given the rank. He killed a dozen men in his first deployment. They say war runs through his veins instead of blood."
"Knock it off, Davis.", Jacob said, "Lieutenant, you've known the captain the longest. What's he like."
James took a sip from his canteen and rinsed his mouth before answering, "Full transparency? A born fighter. I've known his old man for twenty years. A good person. But Logan? I'm not sure if it's genetics or drugs, but he's wired to this. He's also burdened."
"By what?", Ozlo asked.
"His mother died when he was young. Killed by terrorists. His father was paralyzed from the waist down. And he has a younger sister. He feels like everything is on his shoulders so he acts like it. Never giving in to anything, that might draw him away from the mission."
Ozlo paused before speaking again, "I know someone like that. A commander in Torfa. You will see her soon, I imagine."
Sometime later, Frenn saw something, that made him uneasy. A Rosian knight came out from between two structures, rubbing his hands with cloth and eyeing everyone around him. Frenn stood up and bid the others a good evening before slowly heading to where the knight came from.
He walked down the pathway until he came to a small door in the corner of one of the structures. It led to the lower level of the structure, mainly used for storage. But its current purpose was something else entirely.
Frenn lit up a torch he grabbed and used it to light the others on the walls. The light illuminated a horrific sight to most but satisfying to him.
Four naked people were hanging by their arms from chains. Four elves. Soldiers. Garrison troops stationed at the outpost. Three were men, one was a woman and all of them had cuts and bruises on their bodies. One of the men had burn marks while another showed wounds, which looked like someone cut a piece of him off.
The woman was bleeding from the top of her head. Her blood streaked down her cheeks and hair as it dripped from her chin unto the ground. Frenn turned his attention to her.
Taking out his knife he took slow and deliberate steps toward her. She tried to look at him, to beg him not to hurt her. But her eyes were blurry from blood and tears and she was too weak to speak.
"No.", one of the men said with a rasping voice, which sounded more like someone was carving wood than anything else.
Frenn looked at him. He was missing half of his fingers and toes, had burn marks below his chest, and numerous cuts on his belly. Yet still, he spoke, however, he could.
"Me. Not her. Plea-", he tried to finish but Frenn's fist stopped him. He punched him in the gut, causing the already suffering man to gurgle.
"Shut your mouth, elf.", Frenn spoke in a menacing voice, "You will get your turn."
He turned back to the woman, placing his fingers beneath her chin and raising her head. "I understand why you are the least punished. Such a beauty. Such a shame. My sister was a beauty. A shy little thing. I remember when she made a crown of flowers for one of you. And yet you violated her."
Frenn pulled her hair down and brought his knife to her exhausted yet terrified face. She wanted to scream. To hope someone, anyone would help her. But her wishes were shattered as Frenn placed the knife's edge beneath her nose.
"No one will hear you.", he said with a half smile, "No one can."
As he was about to draw blood, the door behind him fell with a loud crash. A figure stood, illuminated by the torches. A human soldier. No. Their leader.
Before Frenn could say anything, the ranger pulled out his weapon and shot him in the leg. He scanned the room, looking at the hanging elves with a mixture of pity and disgust.
"Why do you care?!", Frenn yelled out, still holding his injured leg, "They are your enemies. They deserve this."
The ranger kicked Frenn in the face, breaking a few teeth, before hoisting him up and dragging him outside. At the entrance were four other rangers, visibly alarmed by the situation.
"What's going on?", Jacob asked.
"Rosians tortured elves.", Logan replied, "Go tend to them while I deal with this."
He dragged Frenn to the middle of the outpost. Dozens of soldiers, Rosians, humans, and tribals alike watched in shock at what was happening. Logan pushed Frenn down to his knees and addressed the crowd, "Who else was with him?! Who else tortured elves?!"
Those present looked around in confusion and then stared at Jacob and the others as they carried the very elves Logan spoke of.
"I will ask this one more time! Who did this?!"
A Rosian clad in dark purple armor and a cape walked towards Logan. "What is the meaning of this?"
"Some of your men tortured elves without our knowledge. I want to know who."
The Rosian, clearly a high-ranking officer in the Opherin army looked down at the injured soldier.
"Frenn?", asked Ozlo as he walked towards him, "Sweet spirits, what have you done?"
"What needed to be done.", Frenn spoke through a broken mouth, "They will pay for what they have done."
"That is not your choice to make!", the officer shouted, "We made an agreement with the humans. You not only went back on your word, you have also indulged in... this!"
Frenn spat on the officer's boots and snarled, "You want the same."
The officer grabbed him by his hair, "I want it more. But what would be left of us if we turn into them?"
After a moment of silence, he turned to the crowd watching, "I demand to know who is responsible for this!"
No one answered. Understandably so. Who'd want to be known for something like this? Logan then spoke again, "We have the means to find out who tortured the elves. You can surrender now and save us all the trouble."
Not too long after that, one of the Rosian knights stepped forward and shamefully raised his hand. Another did as well but with a hint of pride on his face. Then another and another until nine knights ended up raising their hands.
The Rosian officer looked at them in shame and disgust. He ordered his other men to take them away and to deal with them later. The elves were taken by the rangers for treatment. Logan and the officer stood next to each other and watched as the crowd dispersed and everyone went back to their posts.
"Accept my sincerest apologies.", the officer told Logan, saluting in the Opherin fashion and bowing his head slightly, "I truly had no idea such things were occurring."
"No, you didn't.", Logan replied, "I suspect these men aren't the only ones. Who knows how many other outposts are doing the same."
"While I understand why, it does not bring any less dishonor."
"Don't worry, the elves aren't dead. Though something tells me they wish they were. Just prepare your men for tomorrow. We're off to Torfa."
---
(The next day)
Lashil, Nelsera region
Empire of Light
The siege wasn't going as easily as planned but no one complained. After more than a day of fighting, the marines managed to push the defenders back to their main garrison. It was a very large structure with sturdy walls and a reinforced gate. Cannons, which were positioned on said walls, incessantly fired upon them in hopes of causing their retreat. Those cannons caused the deaths of a few dozen marines throughout the city. Needless to say, they were a pain in the ass.
Falling back to cover, the marines allowed the attack helicopters to rain hell on the walls. The defenders tried to aim their ballistae to no avail. Once the helicopters were done with that, one of them fired a missile, that destroyed the gate, and then moved on to target other defenses.
Colonel Robert Miller led his marines through the rubble slowly and cautiously. They used their thermal visors to see through the smoke and traverse the remains of the garrison entrance. While the enemy's swords and spears weren't a threat from a distance, their bows, crossbows, and muskets were much more effective. The strange alloy they used was able to pierce body armor and go through skin and bone should it hit a less protected part of the body. Not to mention the mages, who were able to bring down an attack chopper and damage a transporter.
Their natural defensive advantage coupled with magic allowed the elves and dwarves to mount ambushes and make the marines bleed. But now it was over.
While there were still hundreds of enemy troops scattered throughout the city, the main bulk was decimated and its remains retreated to the garrison. Now it was time to finish the job.
Robert moved slowly as he observed the short-range radar on his hud. The technology wasn't perfect but it allowed him to detect moving figures from thirty feet away. Enough to see if anyone was hiding behind corners. And he was right on the money.
Signaling his men to stop, Robert primed a grenade and threw it over the corner. The explosion killed a dozen elves and caused the rest to panic, driving the other defenders from various points of cover. Most of them carried swords and spears. The ones armed with ranged weapons were on the garrison balconies.
"Open fire, find cover!", Robert shouted. The first few lines of defenders fell as the marines ripped holes through them with assault rifles and light machine guns.
Those on the balconies fired as well. Mages cast their chants and lit up a large part of the ground on fire. Shooting behind cover, the marines picked off the elves and dwarves on the balconies but the mages created invisible fields, that protected them. One of the men
"Hawk this is Bulldog!", Robert voiced on the radio, "We need immediate air support! The garrison is confirmed!"
"Roger that bulldog. F-53 is on its way. Payload delivery ETA 1 minute."
"Solid copy!", Robert replied and then voiced all of his men to prepare for close air support. After a minute, a jet appeared and dropped a bomb on the main garrison building. The defenders could only stare as it fell and destroyed most of the building and left a giant hole in the ground.
The few survivors stood paralyzed for a short time before being shot. Moving forward, the marines gunned down the rest of the defenders. Few chose to surrender and were restrained. Other platoons were finishing up the city's rears. This battle was almost over.
"Why couldn't we just do that earlier?", lieutenant Keith Adams asked as he walked up to Robert.
"Some of us thought it would be worth taking. Gotta say I disagree."
With most of the military installations within Lashil destroyed, the remaining defenders either surrendered or made a last stand with whatever force they still had.
Approximately six hundred elves and dwarves surrendered while over eight thousand were killed within the city. Hundreds more attempted to flee the city along with many civilians but were stopped by attack helicopters and armored vehicles, which landed on the beaches prior to the siege and encircled the city.
The people were understandably terrified at the sight. Many went on their knees in surrender while the surviving defenders held their weapons in shaking hands. As the helicopters hovered over them, Robert moved in with his men. He could see children hugging their parents as he approached. The sight brought him no pleasure.
When he and his men stopped moving, the people stood in anticipation of the worst. Will they die? Shot just like the guards? Maybe they'll be tortured or enslaved. All of this frightened them to the bone. Some begged for their lives. But many just threw insults and slurs at the marines, calling them savages and monsters.
Robert tapped his helmet and told the helicopters to move away so they wouldn't make as much noise. He then raised his hand and spoke. "People of Lashil, there is nothing to fear!". His voice didn't sound natural through his mask and made the people listening twitch. "We will not harm you! All we ask is to speak with the person in charge!"
The marines found several city guard officers but no one who has general authority across the entire city. They assumed that the city keeper had fled along with the masses. Their hunch proved to be correct as an elf wearing tattered robes over ornate clothing slowly walked out. Robert saw some guards pushing the man out of the crowd. He wasn't a fighter nor did he have the courage to face his attackers. Regardless, he was necessary for the moment.
"I am the city keeper.", he said as he stood fifteen feet from Robert, "Concilio Ro Nontar."
Robert moved a little closer before speaking again, "Mister Nontar our demands are simple. All of your forces will surrender their arms, the city will be under our authority and none of your civilians are to interfere with our business. If you agree to this, no one will be harmed."
Concilio was at a loss for words. Robert could see he expected something crueler. Still, he didn't waste time conveying the message to the people, most of which had the same reaction. Some, however, were skeptical and even outright refused Robert's demands, calling him a liar.
"Monsters!", one of the women yelled, "You murdered my husband! My boy! You killed thousands and now expect us to give you our city! Your wretched souls will rot when Morto collects them!"
Robert was warned of this. The elves of the Empire of Light were told, that humans were savages, who wanted nothing more than the destruction of their home. He couldn't blame them. It was their home, their land, and their people they were destroying. Deep down, every marine present knew the pain.
Walking closer to the frightened mass, Robert waved his men to stay where they were. He came within a few feet of the woman, who yelled at him and slowly removed his helmet. Once he did, the people saw his face. Robert was a veteran in his mid-forties and his face told a dozen stories of war. His buzz-cut head was unnerving to the elves who, for the most part, had hair that stretched passed their shoulders. But his eyes were different. As blue as the sky and as calm as a lake, they stared back at the crowd.
"I'm sorry.", Robert spoke in a low voice, "I'm sorry your people are dead. But so are mine, this is war, and death, while distasteful, is unavoidable. I know how it feels to lose someone close. So I ask you to help me stop that from happening again. Go to your homes and leave us be. That's all we want."
What felt like a small eternity went by as the people looked at one another. Eventually, slowly but surely, they began to walk back into the city. The remaining defenders dropped their weapons and joined them.
Robert put his helmet back on and redirected his troops to various positions and tasks. Their job was far from over and another threat might have been on its way. How many will they face? What more will the elves throw at them? No one knew. But one thing was certain. The coast city was now theirs.
---
Torfa, Kingdom of Opherin
Sieges were never designed to be fast. Many took moon cycles or perhaps longer, especially if a city was involved. But this was different.
The elves kept throwing ferals and monsters at them, even using their wyverns to hurl some on or even over the walls. This caused chaos in the defenders' ranks, who tried their best to keep the situation contained. However, the real threat became more evident as the elves disembarked in mass on the beach east of the city. For the first three days, the defenders beat back the mindless hordes. But when the elven army showed up, it was a different story.
Their battle mages protected them from crossbows and ballistae while they used dwarven inventions to scale the walls. If the Rosians hated anything other than the elves' arrogance, it was their hypocrisy. The hordes of beasts, the dwarven net cannons, the reliance on magic. Elves preach how the world should remain pure and yet they keep collecting war machine after war machine.
It didn't matter in the long run as the elves started scaling the walls. They found minimal resistance due to the bulk of the defense being positioned near the docks. But as they reached the streets their roars of triumph turned into cries of shock and pain. Knights and drafted militia poured out of cover and attacked. A bloody melee erupted all around the base of the wall.
The battle near the docks wasn't faring better. As wyverns flew above the walls, trolls and ogres broke through the gate and ferals poured into the city. Many of them died from well-positioned crossbows and ballistae but many more were there to take their place.
Knights stood in a tight shield formation to hold the streets. As the beasts impaled themselves on Rosian spears and swords, mages battled all around them. Torfa was prideful of its magical contingent but the sheer scale of the enemy assault started to overwhelm them.
And still, this was all wrong. A fleet this large attacking so aggressively? The elves must have been desperate for something. Torfa's commander-in-chief, Eldana Blazewing, didn't know if she should be concerned or glad at the thought.
The former flooded the minds of her men and women in arms. But she preferred to focus on the latter. If the elves were this desperate, then they were bound to be reckless and this was something she could use.
"Focus your attention on the trolls!", she told her inner circle as they watched the carnage unfold from the balcony of the headquarters, "Tell the mages to cast flame spells on the large groups of beasts! The feral welfen and leanoids will try to scale the buildings, I want archers covering the rooftops!"
Some of her men saluted and ran back to relay her orders. This was exhausting. Her father, commander Tegnar Blazewing, placed her in command of Torfa's forces because he thought she would be safe. Eldana was against this of course but her father's word could not be overruled. In his eyes, she was too young. At the age of 25 cycles, she was one of the youngest officers in the Opherin army with the strength and skill to prove it wasn't the name that earned her the position. However, this siege made her rethink her anger toward his orders. She was frustrated, exhausted, and wished someone was there to help. Her inner circle, skilled officers from the southern regions of Opherin, was not enough. They needed reinforcements.
As if to prove her point, the elves started to break through in the east and push toward the headquarters. Wyverns swooped down and ravaged defending militia while beasts tore knights limb from limb. Still, they have not lost. Mages threw all they had into massive walls and boulders of flame, burning elves and monsters by the dozen. Nimble skirmishers ran across rooftops and threw flammable oils, which burned and created pools of fire. This bought the defenders enough time to create lines of defense.
It did not take too long before the elven mages cast gusts of wind to blow away the fire. Many were shot soon after by the skirmishers, who took the opportunity to scatter across the roofs over the elves' heads. Chaos reigned supreme in the streets. Almost every corner was a brawl and the Rosian ranks were slowly thinning. Soon enough, the elves made their way to the headquarters and were met with a brutal barrage of arrows and bolts. Trolls carried large makeshift wooden shields, which protected them and the ogres, who pushed a massive battering ram. It slammed into the gate and shook the wall. The defenders threw stones and oil but it was too late. As the ram broke the gate, the monsters flooded the entrance. Events repeated themselves and wave after wave of beasts was shot by arrows or impaled by spears.
Elves fared better with their shields and the corridor turned into a mess of blue, gold, pink, and purple. Some managed to get past the carnage into other hallways and rushed to find the commander. They soon founder her sword in their necks as she came out of the corner with her elite Blackheart guard. Shields clanged, spears pierced and both sides suffered but Eldana held strong. She and her guards swore they will not fall and neither will Torfa. One of her men, a massive knight, grabbed one of the elven shields and threw it over the edge to his right. Eldana looked in that direction toward the paralleled hallway and saw knights and elves fighting just like they were.
"For Torfa!", she screamed at the top of her lungs, "For Opherin! For King Ostontul!"
"Ostontul!", her knights raged and hurled themselves at the enemy, overwhelming them with their brute strength and gutting them where they stood. For a moment there was the hope of victory. Said moment was quickly shattered at the sight of more elves approaching from the halls ahead. Eldana frowned, took a deep breath, and raised her shield. 'In this life, until death takes me, my heart will fight.', she told herself and so did every one of her soldiers.
Another brawl was about to start but was interrupted by loud noises coming from outside the walls. Eruptions? This question ached in the minds of every elf and Rosian present. More and more eruptions swept across the landscape, burning elves and beasts by the dozens, if not hundreds. The docks were even worse. Ship after ship burst into flames as giant iron dragonflies filled the sky with blazing arrows. Wyverns kept falling and elves kept dying, no one knew what was happening. Even the Rosians were terrified. Out in the distance, large steel carriages could be seen speeding toward the wall. They had no horses and wielded long cannons, which decimated the unprepared elves. Many of them opened and strange-looking soldiers came out, carrying black rods, which resembled dwarven boomsticks. They were completely covered in green and brown cloth and thin armor, not even their faces were seen. As they opened fire, elves and monsters died in droves. Their shields offered them little protection and even the mages' force barriers were overwhelmed after too many shots as well as stones, which caused small but devastating eruptions, much like the iron dragonflies.
Ogres and trolls lasted longer but they ultimately fell. Elves began running but could not outrun the speeding arrowheads that filled the air around them. Frightened Rosians hid behind cover and tried not to get in the way of the strange newcomers. Many of them had heard rumors of such warriors. Soldiers from the other side of the rift. The army that had destroyed the elves twice and conquered Galdsuh. Most were merely hoping that they were real. But now they were not so sure. If such power was unleashed unto them, what could they do?
As they made their way through the streets, the masked soldiers did not seem to care about the frightened people and knights. What gave the Rosians more questions than answers, however, were the knights of Alston, Dother, Elarith, and even Opherin that came with them. They used their shields to protect the masked warriors from bolts and arrows and tried to calm down the frightened and confused survivors.
Eldana could not see what was happening nor did she have the time to daydream. The enemy was right in front of her and she needed her focus. Her knights thought the same and got into formation. As the elves got closer, both sides stopped to see the black ropes dangling to the right. Suddenly, six figures came down and fired upon the elves with their broomsticks. They swung themselves in front of Eldana's knights and kept firing down the hall.
'Allies', Eldana thought. They were strange but effective nonetheless. She would have a lot of questions for them but there was a battle to win first. Glancing to her right, she saw elves on the other side preparing to fire their crossbows. Eldana and her knights quickly raised their shields to defend the masked warriors, two of which turned in a heartbeat and killed the elves. Moments passed and the hall was littered with dozens of corpses.
"Reload.", one of the masked warriors said in the Imperial tongue, though his accent was different. Eldana presumed him to be the leader.
"Eldana Blazewing.", he said after he turned towards the knights. Eldana stepped forward, her sword and shield lowered. The man was half a head taller than her and quite bulkier with every part of his body covered in thick cloth and scaly armor. Her eyes reflected off his mask as she tried to read him and his soldiers.
"Captain Logan Connors, United States Army Rangers.", he continued, "We're your reinforcements. The docks are being secured as we speak."
No one spoke for moments. The knights looked at one another in suppressed awe. Eldana broke the silence, "Are you from Galdush? The rumored army, that defeated the elves?"
"We are.", the man replied. Eldana turned and walked towards the balcony, following the sounds of eruption and carnage. Outside she was met with a sight she never could have even imagined. The elven numbers were dwindling, many of the streets were being cleared and the ferals and monsters were all but dead. The docks and beaches were much the same. Boats and ships burning, craters all around, much of the elven fleet was sinking into the water, and the rest were either retreating or covering the capital ship so it could escape. Fleeing elves desperately called out for their brethren to save them but to no avail. They soon realized there was no escape and surrendered.
Eldana sheathed her sword, placed her shield on the ground, and took her helmet off. She closed her magenta-colored eyes and let the cool wind flow through her dark hair. When she let out a long exhale, she opened her eyes and looked out into the distance. It was getting quiet. Sure, there were still shouts and pops of black powder but the noise was going away. For the first time in days, Eldana felt at peace or at least something of the like.
"Logan, you said?", she asked, turning her head towards the man who stood beside her, "I wish to know the people that saved mine. And the faces of the warriors who aided us."
The masked soldier looked at his men and nodded. All of them slowly took their masks and helmets off. The sight was enough to widen the Rosians' eyes and lips. Their skin was different, paler but not white. They all had very short hair, no doubt a requirement in their army. They were of varying ages, the eldest among them having the appearance of a veteran. Yet he was not the leader. The leader was young with dark brown hair and eyes as brown as trees. His jawline was sharp, his gaze stony with a rectangular scar on his left cheek. Eldana nodded and saluted in the Opherin fashion. Logan saluted with his own.
"What else has happened in Opherin?", Eldana asked, "Why have the elves attacked us?"
"Your kingdom as well as Alston and the duchies have signed a pact with us.", Logan said, "The elves refused negotiations."
The knights scoffed at that. That was nothing new. But to think that all of the Rosian vassals would renounce their fielty to the Empire of Light. That was somewhat surprising considering the failed rebellion twenty-five cycles ago.
"Father.", Eldana said under a worried breath, "What of my father? He commands castle Molak in the north. Does he live?"
"We don't know. Three battalions were sent to reinforce them but no news as of yet. We know that they were attacked by a substantial elven force."
"I need to get over there. I need to know if he lives. Please.", Eldana tried to calm herself but her worries were flooding her brain. Her father might very well be in danger and she was nowhere near to aid him.
"I'm sorry.", Logan said, "But we can't go anywhere until Torfa is secured."
Eldana was ready to plead further but one of Logan's men spoke first, "Sir, Pelican-7 is available. We can reach the 3rd assault battalion within three to four hours."
"You would have us abandon our mission, corporal?", Logan asked, displeased.
"I believe the absence of a single Chinook and one squad will not impede the mission of securing Torfa, sir."
Logan said nothing for a while. He thought about what his subordinate suggested and resented leaving the mission. But after looking at Eldana again, he sighed and spoke, "Fine. Inform command and have Pelican-7 pick us up. Tell them we're bringing Golden rose plus ten others."
Putting their helmets back on, the warriors hurried back along with Eldana and her Blackhearts. On the way she asked Logan, "Golden rose?"
"Your designation.", Logan answered, "Your father, Tegnar, is Iron rose."
"You knew he was my father prior to our meeting. How?"
"Ostontul told us."
---
(Three hours and twenty-seven minutes later)
South of Molak castle
This was breaking protocol. In the past three years, Logan has only done it a handful of times and even then it was in dire situations. They shouldn't be here. He shouldn't have brought them here. But seeing Eldana almost break down in front of him made him think of his own father. How he would do anything to make sure he was safe.
Glancing over at her, he could see how visibly taken aback she was. So were the knights she brought along. While it wasn't their first time in the air, it was their first time riding for so long and so far in something like a helicopter. The sensation of being in a large metal object flying through the air was alien to them. On their way to Molak, they asked numerous questions. How does it work? What can it do? How many are there? The rangers answered what they could.
As time passed, Eldana became more nervous and worried. She sat in a corner with her arms folded, looking out the window. Logan sat next to her and took his helmet off.
"We will arrive soon.", he told her. She didn't answer so he continued, "It's alright to be worried."
"I am not.", she said, still looking out the window, "My father is one of the king's greatest commanders. He will not fall. He cannot afford to."
"I don't doubt that he is. But no one is unkillable."
"He will not fall!", she shouted as she gave Logan a stern look. The others in the Chinook looked at her and halted their conversation.
The silence was broken by the pilot, who spoke over the comms, "We are approaching the engagement zone."
Logan walked over to the front of the helicopter and looked out into the distance. Molak castle was still further off but the battalions were already engaged with the elves. This wasn't good news. Either a portion of the elven army went past the castle or the castle had fallen.
"Should we descend?", the pilot asked.
"No.", Logan said, "Inform the battalion of our arrival and head to Molak."
The pilot did just that. As they increased their altitude and flew over the battlefield, the Rosian knights and rangers observed the chaos below. The elven army, or what was left of it, was being completely destroyed. Howitzers bombed them from a distance until the tanks and LAVs showed up. By the time the elves realized what was happening, it was too late. Much of their army was surrounded and those that had the chance tried to flee. They were the first to be intercepted and killed.
As army soldiers formed a line and steadily advanced, some of the imperial charged at them, no doubt hoping they could take a few down at least. But before they could get close, soldiers opened fire and cut them down. They fell by the dozen as they tried to clump together around shields. Nothing protected them and soon enough they were decimated.
Any surviving wyverns were already dealt with, so the Chinook had minimal problems with crossing the battlefield. As they neared Molak, Logan could see smoke stacks rising in the distance. When they got close enough, he saw that most of the castle was on fire. Many of its walls were broken or cracked, its towers burning like torches. There were hundreds if not thousands of elven and feral corpses everywhere. The defenders of Molak put on a hell of a fight. But they ultimately couldn't hold out forever.
The Chinook descended on a grass field nearby. As it did, Eldana looked out the window to see Molak and rushed outside as soon as the ramp lowered itself. She was stopped by her knights, who kept trying to reassure her and calm her down. Screaming out her father's name, Eldana struggled against the iron grip of her larger fighter.
"Commander!", he shouted in her ear, "There might be more elves nearby. We must be cautious."
As Eldana regained her composure, the knight let her go and she took up her sword and shield once again. The rangers made their way to them with their rifles in their hands.
"Form up behind our shields.", Eldana told them, "We will lead the way."
Logan nodded and gestured to his men to follow. The sight was something to behold. Rosian knights advanced in their shield formation as rangers pointed their rifles in all directions. It was something that would undoubtedly become more standard as the war progressed.
Making their way to one of the ruined walls, the combined arms of humans and Rosians walked up the rubble and into the castle. Inside they found horror. Rosians, elves, beasts. They lay dead by the hundreds all around. Somewhere burned, others were torn to pieces, and most were shot by bolts, arrows, or impaled by spears.
For the rangers, it was a disgusting sight. But nothing they haven't heard of or even witnessed before. When True Salvation began its great massacre, entire square miles were filled with nothing but gore and rubble. During the final years of the war, they gunned down people by the hundreds in small towns and villages. It wasn't uncommon for soldiers or police to find piles of burned corpses on roads and town squares.
Molak brought back painful memories to Logan. Such tactics were meant to fuel his frustration and anger so that he would become more desperate and predictable in eliminating the salvationists. The former worked but the latter did not as much. He found them. And he killed them. Because that was his duty.
Eldana felt a great deal of sorrow while she watched everything around her. After a minute or so, she pointed to the most intact structure on the left.
"There.", she said, "That is where my father would be."
The group made its way up the stairs, stepping over the lifeless bodies of both defenders and invaders. As they made their way through the halls, they noticed the number of bodies became denser. Eventually, they walked through a large, broken door, that lead into a mostly empty room. Its most prominent features were the wide table with a detailed map, ornamental weapons, and armor on walls and in corners as well as the windows, that overlooked the castle courtyard and main gate.
But the most disturbing scene was a lone warrior surrounded by three dead swine and two dead elves. His arms were impaled by spears and there was a sword stuck in his left side. He died fighting, taking five opponents with him before being overwhelmed.
"Father!", Eldana broke into tears, dropped her weapons, and ran over to the fallen warrior. Tegnar Blazewing, commander of Molak and keeper of the Northern border, was dead. "No! Please, no. Morto, give him back. I beg of you."
She cried and pleaded, hoping someone would hear her. Both the knights and rangers could only stand by and watch. No doubt they knew the pain, at least to a certain extent.
Slowly, Logan handed his rifle and helmet to one of his men. He walked to one of the dead elves and pulled out a sword from below his chin. It was a fine weapon. The handle was made from polished, dark wood, the pommel was a round piece of bronze-like metal with the carving of a pair of wings. The blade itself looked like it was made of silver with Rosian words etched into it.
After cleaning the blade with a piece of cloth, Logan asked Eldana, "What do these words mean?"
Eldana paused before answering, "For the king and the crown. For my home and my people. In this life, until death takes me, my heart will fight. It is my family's saying."
"A strong saying. A shame it will die."
In that second, Eldana rose to her feet and grabbed Logan by the collar. She glared at him with hateful eyes. "Say that again."
Logan's men wanted to raise their rifles but he rose his hand and halted their advance. Looking back at Eldana's eyes, he spoke, "Your father is dead. Who's left to carry the name?"
"It will not die!", Eldana shouted.
"Show me!", Logan shouted back, making her stern face twitch. She let go of his collar and moved back a couple of steps. Logan held the sword in both hands at chest height and spoke again, "Show me."
Eldana hesitated, unsure why. She felt unworthy. It wasn't her time yet. But with her father gone and the kingdom in chaos, there was no time to wait. She took the sword by the handle and brought it up to her face, watching her eyes reflect on the steel. Her knights knelt down, their hands on their weapons and their heads lowered.
"Rise.", Eldana spoke, "We are Opherin. We kneel to no one."
She looked to Logan and then the other rangers before speaking again, "You broke the elves. But together we will destroy them and their Empire."
With that, the knights rose and saluted. Within the following week, US forces subjugated Fort Godo and captured the 8th army general Haldir Magris. This was the end of the Rosian liberation and the beginning of the true war. One that would eclipse everything this world has ever seen.
---
War council chamber
Elyana
Laeroth was pacing around the room, walking back and forth, waiting for the others to show up. His first captain stood quietly in the corner. The current predicament troubled him greatly. This war was progressing far quicker than he had expected. Not only that, the reports from the inquisition's spies were difficult to believe. Just the thought of him having to rely on Gilshor and his ilk made him sick. But if the Empire of Light was to win this war, or at the very least survive it, great changes would need to be made quickly. His only hope was that they will adapt quickly enough.
As he stood in front of the square table, he heard the doors open and four men walk in. Two generals, two captains. Three veterans, one fresh blood. All were clad in the armor of their respective armies. Laeroth immediately recognized two of them.
"Hodor.", he spoke, "I am glad you arrived. And you as well, Lorsan.". Both of them saluted. Hodor commanded the 13th army, known as the Blueshields. Lorsan commanded the 17th, the Greenhorns.
"It is an honor to be here, first general.", Lorsan said, trying and failing to hide his enthusiasm.
"Who else is coming, Laeroth?", Hodor asked.
"I have dispatched messengers to everyone within the regions of Filflune, Kal, and Inluma.", Laeroth replied, "Though I am certain you received my calling in a different manner."
At that moment, the door opened once again and eight more individuals entered the room. Six were men, two were women. All stood around the table and eyed one another. Some greeted each other while others only gave nods. Tensions in the room were high. Everyone was aware of the topic.
"How were your travels?", Laeroth asked.
"Boring.", Athtar Qino answered immediately, "To think an empire as beautiful and magnificent as ours could feel so bland and empty. If only all the towns and villages were as grand as the Inluma capital."
"Moments in and you are already the most annoying person in the chamber.", Cyndra Urilana spoke, "You Songbirds are all the same. Crying about the mud on your pretty little purple cloaks. Has the ninth army really fallen so low?"
"You tell me, sweet Cyndra. How are your adorable Warmaidens? You know the battlefield is no place for little girls.". Cyndra's first captain snarled at that. She wanted to move closer and beat him but was stopped by her general.
"Oh my, what a temper.", Athtar taunted again, his first captain chuckling.
"I believe the first general wanted us to exchange pleasantries.", Lorsan spoke almost sheepishly, "We should-"
"Why are you here?", Cyndra asked, cutting him off.
"Well... The first general-"
"Laeroth called in the generals in Filflune, Kal, and Inluma. As far as I know, you were stationed in Myla. So why are you here, boy?"
Lorsan wanted to answer but Hodor spoke first, "I brought him."
"Unsurprising.", Athtar said, "You do so enjoy parading your little boy everywhere. Tell me, Greenhorn. Does he still read you bedtime stories every night?"
"Shut up! All of you!", Farryn Ilaz shouted. A tall, broad, and menacing figure, he stood with his arms crossed. His pale left eye stared at Athtar, who took a slow step backward. "Why are we here, Laeroth?"
"You know why.", Laeroth said, "But we are still missing several members."
Before anyone could ask anything, the doors opened once more to reveal five figures. One was taller than the rest and wearing a dark robe. The others were short and broad with thick beards. They carried three crates, which they placed next to the table.
The hooded figure uncovered his face and spoke in a soft voice, "Greetings to you all. I am Dranson."
"Where is Gilshor?", Laeroth asked immediately.
"My apologies, general Laeroth Leobel but the grand inquisitor is... occupied at the moment."
"With what?", Laeroth's first captain asked.
"That is not for you to know, captain Helion Del Conlo.", Dranson answered in a way that made Helion feel more than uneasy.
"And the dwarves?", Hodor asked as he looked at them and their crates.
"We brought the weapons and plans the first general asked for.", one of the dwarves said.
With that, Laeroth opened one of the crates and pulled out a map. He spread it across the table in front of everyone. It was the continent of North Altia. Everything was shown in detail. From the Wasteland peninsula and Calnola bay in the south to the dwarven kingdoms and Giant's land in the north. But what caught everyone's attention was the crimson line, that stretched from Sahone on the east coast to Nelsera on the west.
"What is this?", Olgon Joriath finally spoke.
After a long pause, Laeroth answered, "Ylindar, Delsaran, Drannor, Haldir, Myrdin, Lothar. Five generals, five armies. One admiral and his fleet. All gone. We lost a fifth of our army and more than a tenth of our armada. Forts Mundus and Godo were also taken and our Rosian vassals in the south sided with the enemy. Our empire is besieged on two fronts. The Galdush field in the southeast and Lashil on the west coast, which the enemy fleet has conquered and is using as a staging ground. To make matters worse, lord Bellon Belus of Meilume has turned traitor and given away a third of the Meilume region to the enemy without the Emperor's consent. I will speak plainly. We face dark times."
"Bellon turned against the empire because Gilshor and Cato thought they could assassinate the delegation sent to negotiate peace.", Hodor said, "If you want my opinion, they are the ones to blame for all of this."
Dranson did not reply. Instead, he quietly observed the map in front of him.
"Regardless of what happened, I assume we were not brought here to be reminded of what we already know.", Cyndra said.
"The people we fight call themselves humans.", Laeroth continued, "Their world on the other side of the rift is called Earth and they are the only people."
Athtar rose an eyebrow as if he found this news amusing, "What? Did they by chance exterminate the rest?"
"Others never existed. They have waged war among themselves for thousands of cycles, never achieving peace. In their recent history, they survived the greatest disaster they have ever faced and still suffer from the aftermath."
"What of their kingdoms?", Olgon asked.
"There are none. Or at least none that we would see as a kingdom or an empire. They organize themselves in nations or countries, which form alliances. These nations are ruled by elected leaders and are governed by a governing body something akin to a senate."
"Strange.", Hodor renowned, "But this proves that they are not savages. I have no doubt the preachers and the emperor will portray them as such."
"Which of these nations did we invade?", Lorsan asked.
"One of their largest.", Laeroth answered, "The United States of America. Something of a conglomerate of fifty smaller nations. It commands one of the largest and most powerful armies in their world and is the leader of one of the two great alliances. The North Atlantic Treaty Organization or NATO."
"What of their weapons?", Cyndra asked, "How does their army fight?"
"Similar to dwarves but with key differences. All of their soldiers use a type of boomstick they refer to as firearms. They also command massive cannons, capable of destroying any fortification from dozens of leagues away as well as giant armored carriages and flying contraptions."
"Tank, helicopter, plane.", one of the dwarves spoke, "The first general's scribes provided us with the information they uncovered from the human's scriptures.". He opened one of the crates and pulled out several illustrations. They showed the various carriages Laeroth spoke of. Giant metal carriages with long cannons. An arrow-shaped machine with a glass head. A long, smooth rectangular box with blades positioned in a circle. None of the generals and officers present fully understood what they were seeing. They understood they were instruments of war, each with its own deadly purpose. But what that purpose was eluded them.
"This is one of their ships.", the dwarf said before showing a detailed painting of an iron behemoth. It was far larger than most of their vessels but wielded fewer cannons than expected. Another illustration was even harder to believe. It was an utter monstrosity made of steel. Long, wide, and thick but with a flat top and seemingly few weapons. All of this made the already confused generals ask even more questions.
"Finally, their weapons.", the dwarf spoke before pulling out three metal objects from the crate. They were all different in both shape and size. One of them resembled a dwarven broomstick the most. Long and smooth, with a hollow rod and a trigger. The second looked like one of the smaller dwarven weapons, able to be held and fired with one hand. The third, however, was the strangest of all. It was the second largest but it had a handle behind the trigger as well as a long, curved, metal rectangle in front of it. There were probably many more different types, Laeroth deduced.
"From what we learned, these weapons are able to fire many times before needing to be refilled.", the dwarf continued, "While we are currently working on a similar system, this one is far more complex. We cannot replicate them."
Athtar scoffed at that while Farryn grunted and asked, "And their magic?"
"They do not possess it.", Laeroth said, confusing and shocking those present in the chamber.
"How?", Lorsan asked, "The spirits flow through everything."
"There are no spirits in their world. The mages, that were sent through could not use any spells. They had nothing to connect to."
To hear such a thing was bizarre, to say the least. The spirits ran and flew through everything alive and otherwise. The ground, the air, the trees, stones, and waters. All beasts, prey, and people had a level of connection to the spirits, and those gifted in the arts of spirit magic are able to take and channel this through themselves. If there was a world, which did not possess such a connection, it made them wonder what could there be.
"Assuming what you have shown us is true.", Hodor began, "It sounds like they do not need it."
"This does give us an edge.", Cyndra remarked, "If they truly do not have a connection to the spirits, our magic can break them."
"Have you not been paying attention?", Athtar asked, "They killed a fifth of our army."
"And they lost troops for it.", Cyndra spoke back, "Even if a little, it shows they are not unkillable. They bleed and die just like we do."
"You speak the truth.", Laeroth said as he gestured to two of the dwarves, who opened their crates and handed out books to everyone. As the generals went through them, they saw many illustrations of various enemy weapons, contraptions as well as key points of interest.
"What is this?", captain Ohorin of the 15th army's first legion asked.
"A guide.", Laeroth answered, "If we are to fight them, we will need to change our tactics almost completely. Instead of armor, our soldiers will wear camouflaged clothing with animal hides. Each will be equipped with a bow, crossbow, or boomstick, which the dwarves will provide. We will not march toward them in formations. Instead, we will let them come closer to us and ambush them. We will use poison, beasts, magic, anything we can to achieve victory."
"You would have me and my army discard our polished armor and silk for rags and mud?", Athtar asked in an irritated and displeased voice, "I think not."
"You are willing to sacrifice this empire for silk?", Farryn asked angrily, "Have you no shame?"
"Have you no honor? I am not stooping that low. You brutes might, but not us."
Farryn grabbed him by the collar and pulled him close, his vice-like grip not letting go, "I dare you to say that again."
"Enough!", Laeroth shouted, "We cannot afford infighting. This war will be the end of us. Do you understand that? Win or lose we will not come out the same. But if we win, at least we keep a part of ourselves. And if we lose? The empire, the light, and the elven race are no more. Do you want that, Athtar? Because if so, leave this chamber."
Athtar shook his head and let out a sharp exhale. Farryn let him go and they both faced the map once again. At last, Dranson spoke, "I assume you have a plan for this, first general?"
"These lines.", Laeroth said as he pointed at the long red lines on the map, "They are a series of specialized tunnels and trenches. They will span from Sahone to Nelsera. Mages will grow trees between the Munver lakes and Tubal mountains. With the Bolma forest in the east, we will have a natural wall between us and them. We will place troops inside and wait for them to enter. If they try to fly over it, our mages, cannons and wyverns will hopefully take them down."
"You will give them half of North Altia?", Hodor asked in disbelief, "You better have a damn good reason for that."
"It is too late for them. With the rate the enemy is advancing, we do not have the time to fortify the south. The best course of action would be to cut our losses and dig in.
"That might be true.", Cyndra said, "But how do you think the emperor will feel?"
An eerie silence followed that question. Laeroth could not answer and so he said nothing. Cyndra spoke again, "He does not know, does he?"
"The less he knows the better.", Laeroth retorted, "His mind is... He does not need to know. When the time comes, I will reveal everything."
"I doubt you will get the chance.", Olgo said, staring directly at Dranson.
"Make no mistake.", Dranson spoke, "I will not report any of this to his majesty. But I cannot speak for the grand inquisitor."
"Just tell him I said he needs to keep his mouth shut.", Laeroth spat, "Moving on. In this way, their cannons cannot target us precisely. They will have to come closer. And that is where we will trap them. Their tanks are powerful but they are also heavy. They will sink in the mud pits. Our weapons can pierce the enemy soldiers' armor and at a close distance, with some luck, we will kill many of them."
"You are very unsure of this.", Hodor said, "Much of this is based on hope and luck."
"We are changing the fundamental structure of our army.", Lorsan noted, "The troops will need time to get used to this. Speaking of which, how do we get word of this out to the rest? Messengers will need days."
"Dranson?", Laeroth asked, expecting an answer.
"From what we have learned, the humans have the ability to speak to each other from afar.", Dranson said, "Soldiers can be dozens of leagues away and still converse with one another. This is the true strength of their army. While their monsters might be slow, they can organize attacks far better than us. Fortunately, we too have a similar system. The inquisition has been using spirit stones to spread information across the entire continent for hundreds of cycles."
"Spirit stones?", Lorsan asked in disbelief, "But it is forbidden to remove them from the sanctum."
"We must do whatever it takes.", Laeroth said, "If something will give us an edge, we will take it."
"I want to point out a more pressing concern.", Cyndra said, "We have lost many of our forces already. If your strategy is to work, we need numbers."
"We will impose mass conscription across the empire. The preachers and the emperor will do their work. We will not only refill the army but also raise the number higher."
"By how much?", Hodor asked, genuinely concerned.
"By however much, we need to. If we cannot kill them, they will drown in bodies and blood.". Those present looked grimly at both him and his guides. "You disapprove."
"These changes are too drastic, Laeroth.", Hodor said.
"But necessary.", captain Helion retorted.
"I must ask this.", Laeroth began, "Can I trust you to follow through with my orders? This will be the greatest war in the history of this world. I must know if you will be strong enough. Will you fight?"
No one spoke for what seemed like a small eternity. The question was simple. Will you fight? Yes or no. A seemingly easy choice. Of course, they will fight. But to change this much. Mass conscription, giving away half of the empire, changing their fundamental way of waging war. It was almost too much.
The first to speak was Farryn, "The Steelboots will fight.".
Next was Cyndra, "The Warmaidens will fight."
Then Olgon, "The Flamecloacks will fight."
Then Athtar, "The Songbirds will fight."
Hodor hesitated for several moments before he too saluted, "The Blueshields will fight."
Lorsan followed him not too long, though his voice was not as enthusiastic as the others, "The Greenhorns will fight."
Laeroth looked at the dwarves. One of them spoke, "As long as you hold your end of the bargain, our kings will cooperate."
Everyone fixed their eyes on Dranson, who spread his arms and lowered his head slightly worth a half smile, "The Inquisition shall serve."
"Then go.", Laeroth ordered, "Make preparations. Spread the word. But be cautious. The enemy is cunning and resourceful. They already have eyes and ears in our walls."
The group nodded in confirmation and left the chamber. One by one. Helion too left on Laeroth's order and the first general was left alone to ponder the future. This will be the end of the Empire of Light. Whether they win or lose, their world will burn, and out of the ashes, something else will rise. But that bridge was not ready to be crossed. For now all that mattered was the war.
---
Elyana Royal Palace
Armas Garvos' personal chamber
Being a member of the royal bloodline held many benefits. The fanciest of silks were regularly provided. The greatest cooks prepared the most delicious of delicacies. Many fantastic minds from across the continent were gathered in the capital and their knowledge was readily available to all who could afford it.
For some like Hagmar Pasos and Lendras, the greatest knowledge was that of architecture and medicine. The pursuit of creation and healing for the betterment of all. Life was precious and no one knew when it would end.
For others like Lylith Camilla, the practical arts of combat were of the utmost importance. Danger lurked all around. Horrific beasts ready to devour innocence, rebellious brigands, who live to pillage and burn all that is not theirs. Great armies and armadas that could strike at any moment and destroy all that her people have created. Many times, to protect a life, another must be taken. Such was the nature of the world.
However, there are those, who reveled in more entertaining benefits. Plays, music, food, and drinks. All of this and more was available to the privileged. But there were those who reveled in more... depraved pastimes. Armas Garvos, third child of the emperor, was one such example. Every night he would bring a new female slave into his chambers. He did not care if she was Rosian, elvish, tribal, or otherwise. Every night he would have his way with her.
Presently, he was forcing himself on a young feelian, which he bought from a merchant in the west district. She had maple-colored fur and bright yellow eyes as well as black lines, which traced her back in a zigzag formation.
"You are very rough, prince.", she cried out as Armas pushed her down, his strong body almost effortlessly overpowering her petite frame.
"Oh yes?", he asked in an amused tone, his hands trailing toward her neck. "How does this feel?"
He started strangling her. Not so hard as to kill her but hard enough for her to gasp and whine. Armas trusted harder and harder until he eventually climaxed and released the girl. She took in a long breath and coughed, her eyes filled with tears.
"You did well.", Armas said as he threw a robe on her. "Clean yourself up. One of my guards will escort you back to your cell."
As she wiped herself off, Armas prepared candles and various objects in front of a small altar in the corner of his chamber.
"Will you pray to the spirits, prince?", the girl asked.
"None of your business.", Armas said. "Leave."
The girl exited the chamber. As she did, Armas lit the candles and knelt in front of the small altar, his hands clasped together and head lowered.
"Great spirits. I come before with great humiliation to ask for your wisdom. Why? Why have you brought this upon me? My brothers and sister look down upon me. My father and mother look at me with disgusted and disappointed eyes. That, which is my birthright, is being taken from me! Why? What have I done to deserve such treatment? Have I not enforced your will? Have I not adhered to the Light? You warned us of those... monsters. I was the one who brought the empire and the vassals together. My words inspired those armies to march in your name. Not my father, not Laeroth, not the senate, me! I only ask for the power to rule this empire. I will lead it against these savages and spread the light across the rifts. I beg of you, answer me."
For moments nothing happened and Armas looked at the altar with a mixture of frustration and disappointment. But as he was about to stand up, one of the candles burned with a purple flame. One by one the candles changed color until the chamber was illuminated with a violet glow. As soon as the last candles turned purple, all of the candles extinguished and a thin smoke went up from the burned stumps. It moved toward Armas, who slowly creep backward in slight fear and shock. The smoke made it to his head and entered through his nose, ears, and mouth.
He jerked suddenly, his head shaking and his eyes rolled back into his skull. But after several seconds, he calmed down and exhaled. Slowly opening his eyes, Armas walked toward his mirror and observed himself. His eyes were as golden as ever but upon closer inspection, he saw how one of them shifted in both color and shape for a brief moment. He jolted backward, terrified at the sight and panting uncontrollably. But as he looked back at his altar, his lips formed a crooked smile.
"Yes.", he hissed out. "I understand."
End of Chapter 16
---
If you want to support me (For some reason) feel free to check out my Patreon: patreon.com/SimpleWrites
Thank you for reading