After a swift landing on the Palace Courtyard, the Valor's side doors open to disgorge a squad of UN regulars, all of whom quickly assembles in a line by the aircraft as I step forward to greet them. After days spent engaging with the locals—often with the occasional misunderstanding involved between both parties for even the mundane of cases, these guys are a welcome sight.

  The troopers' uniforms did not deviate much from the standard, with the only exception being the addition of an arm patch denoting their nationality. This particular squad is composed of European nationals—likely pulled from the UN's existing rosters on their ongoing peacekeeping initiatives in Southern Chile if I had to take a guess.

  The local Euralian soldiers hold their distance further away, watching the spectacle with weapons positioned at the ready—not exactly poised to strike but still heavily guarded. Despite us having informed their Liaison about this arrangement, a few of the guards still had reservations regarding our decision to fly in a small detachment.

  The squad's presumed leader snaps a crisp salute and intones over the Valor's engines. "Sergeant Turner—first Company, second squad," the Sergeant leads with a notably rough diction.

  I return the salute and briefly survey all seven members of his squad before answering. "Second Lieutenant Simmons—welcome to the UN's provincial embassy. With you guys on board, we're now up to twenty men. Schedule's tight and my team's got our own to keep. They'll handle the gear, follow me," I continue, gesturing at my team to proceed with offloading the supplies and equipment as planned.

  Sergeant Turner returns a nod after the indication, his expression guarded as his eyes briefly wandered across the palace courtyard. "Alright, lead the way."

  Taking that as the cue to proceed, I turn around and begin leading his squad towards the embassy. A few short minutes takes us out of the Royal District and into the foreign cityscape. The streets bustle with organized activity. Over several dozen pedestrians covered the streets.

  As expected, just our mere presence is enough to elicit hushed whispers and raised fingers from them and more. At every turn, curious onlookers stared as we passed, often stepping aside without prompting. As is the case with previous excursions to and from the Embassy, interactions with the indigenous are close to negligible. It made for a smooth journey without incident, something which I generally preferred.

  Several troopers slow their pace as we approach a four-way junction. The intersection houses a large, decorated statue at its centre depicting an Euralian woman dressed in her nation's battle armour, striking a dignified pose with an arm held close to her chest in a gesture analogous to a salute.

  Her gaze held to the sky, catching the sun's rays and bringing her expression into sharp focus—proud, and radiant. An ornate crown rests at the top of her head, glinting from the many actual gems embedded across its rim. This is the source of the squad's intrigue, and at an earlier time, mine as well.

  Much of the novelty concerning this new nation still took my breath away, so I understood the pause as the men slow to a halt around the sculpture.

  One of the soldiers lets out a slow whistle. "Neat statue... who is she?" The trooper delivers with a soft tone—almost stunned, his eyes transfixed on the statue.

  I look up to that chiseled face, tracing the gentle curves and soft edges as a name comes to mind. "Mirielle."

  The soldier turns with an expectant look. "And?" he urges, prompting me to divulge the person behind statue.

  I take a moment to admire the figure before answering. "Supposedly the daughter of one of their past Queens. She volunteered to serve in the military, even though her siblings were content to sit on their asses—even rose up to the rank of General during the later years of her service. It's thanks to her that this city's under their rule."

  "That explains the uniform," one of the soldiers adds with a thoughtful look.

  I shrug and turn away from the statue. "There's more to her, but you'll need to squeeze that out from our indig' Liaisons or our science embeds."

  Sergeant Turner hums, shifting his posture slightly. "Might look into it. Cygnus folks didn't really go deep into the local history—just the basics. Told us we're mainly to shore up security around the embassy and provide escort as needed."

  I nod at the Sergeant's revelation. It is hardly a surprise to learn that their briefing package glossed over the cultural aspects of this deployment. In almost every case, practical concerns and operational nuance took precedence over everything else.

  "You'll get your chance. Plenty of time to get a feel on the culture and language," I reassure him.

  The staff officers could have done a bit more to prepare them knowledge-wise about the locals. I will need to bring this up with them when my stint here is finished.

  Turner nods and instructs his men to gather back into formation. After a short delay, the squad reforms into a loose wedge and we continue onwards to the embassy.

  The statue of Mirielle eventually slips past my vision as we take the left turn, disappearing behind the concrete swell of the surrounding buildings.

  Shortly after clearing the junction, we arrive at the provincial embassy. The UN flag stands at full mast towering over the compound, accompanied by the state flags of the participating nations in close succession.

  This is a small piece of home—of Earth. The sight always manages to elicit a small lump in my throat, even if they are just that... an orderly display of flags.

  "Lieutenant," a voice calls out from the compound.

  Rushing out the embassy with a stack of papers under his arm, Calder strides up with a light grin on his face. His pace slows as he catches wind of the squad behind me.

  "Finally, some extra hands," the Ambassador steps up to Turner, extending a hand. "Ambassador Calder—Eden Anthropological Research. Pleasure to meet you."

  "Sergeant Turner—second squad, likewise sir," the Sergeant responds, accepting the handshake with a curt nod.

  The Ambassador's tone shifts as he returns his attention to me. "Where's the equipment we requested?"

  "Back at the palace. My team's going through the shipment to make sure everything's accounted for. Once we've tallied the goods, they'll bounce the gear over," I answer.

  "Okay—just making sure. Wouldn't want to disappoint our hosts, especially since we've got royalty on us," Calder remarks, his voice conflicted.

  I shrug, deciphering the Ambassador's concerns. His stance is justified given the recent mishap that had occurred at the most recent dialogue two days ago. By then, discussions with the city's leadership had already progressed beyond simple formalities. The Euralians had wasted no time pressing Calder and Ashley for examples of technology after the latter disclosed more than she should have about our operations.

  That brief lapse—though inconspicuous at first, had eventually spiraled into material expectations that we had no way of accommodating. For better or worse, the locals—particularly their Princess Ellysia, seem genuinely more interested in our advancements rather than the Rift which brought us here in the first place.

  "What's done is done. It was obvious they singled her out," I sigh, recalling the demanding expression the Princess had directed at Ashley as the interpreter fired question after question making the diplomatic exchange seem less like a discussion on mutual terms and more of an interrogation.

  Not for the first time, I wondered if that was an intentional ploy to get a read on the pair—on how much either would reveal about our capabilities, organization or pretty much anything relevant to our activities in New Eden. Ashley was the first to falter under the pressure and attention, though none of us would blame her for what had happened.

  Ambassador Calder runs a hand down his face. "The crown isn't just for show—that woman's really something else."

  Following a short pause, the rest of Turner's squad formally introduces themselves to Ambassador Calder with one trooper even having the cheek to ask if exploring the city is permissible in their free time. The question is immediately shot down to no one's surprise.

  From the street behind, the Embassy's resident Linguist Ashley emerges out of the thin crowd, accompanied by a representative of the city's council.

  The elderly man stops several feet behind, holding a furbished scroll close to his person. Pressed firmly on one end is the unmistakable seal of Euralian Royalty, the wax insignia stark red against the parchment.

  After giving the squad a polite smile and urging the official to head inside first, Ashley introduces herself and follows up by giving the squad a brief tour around the compound.

  Following the procession, I trail behind and listen as Calder and Ashley take turns explaining the UN's long term goals to the soldiers. Ashley sneaks a few glances my way on occasion, her expression growing soft, filling me with the same warmth present in her hazel eyes.

  With the handover for the Embassy's security more or less formalized and with Turner already staffing his men around the premise, I feel satisfied leaving the place as it is. The Embassy is in good hands.

  Ashley begins ushering the remaining troopers inside, guiding them through the Embassy's sole entrance. At the doorframe she stops and turns around, expression twisting into mild concern. The rest of second squad, sensing the sudden pause turn around, following her gaze to land squarely on the Ambassador who so far hasn't budged from his spot near me.

  "Calder?" Ashley calls, voice light but questioning.

  The Ambassador shakes his head. "Go ahead and show them around, need to speak with Lieutenant Simmons first. It's about that joint Ops."

  Ashley raises an eyebrow, a flicker of surprise briefly crossing her face. "O—oh, alright. There's an update for it, check with reception when you get the chance. The messenger said it's urgent," she mentions before resuming her task with the troopers, sending me one last look before carrying on.

  Once the group is out of sight, Calder turns around and places a firm hand on my shoulder. "Simmons... about what Ellysia proposed to the city's council the other day," he references with a troubled expression.

  I sigh, mentally bracing myself. "Okay, what about it?"

  "She's found a team to pair with you guys. Small military unit—only three, but they're all capable of... channeling," Calder finishes, pulling his hand from my shoulder.

  "I know they're not suppose to lay hands on our equipment, let alone set foot on the Valor, but those are her conditions if we want this Embassy," the Ambassador adds after a short pause.

  I wave off his assumptions, it wasn't the breach in regulations that worries me. "No, that's not it," I reassure him.

  Despite the unpleasant notion of Euralian soldiers stepping foot on the Valor, particularly those with the ability to wield whatever unknown powers govern this world, I was more concerned about our ability to effectively communicate with the locals.

  As it stands, the Euralians are at war and the proposed mission would see my team be deployed to one of their front line triage points where the worst of the fighting is at. I could already envision the many ways it could go wrong.

  Even after several days studying the dictionary compiled by Ashley, our command over their language still leaves much to be desired. None of us had the confidence to hold a conversation and the best we could offer was stringing together a few common phrases and words from memory—even then the way the servants looked behind their polite smiles meant something was off about the way we said it.

  "Depending on the state of their triage, stabilizing their wounded and retrieving the more serious cases back to the city should be simple—that we can do. But it'll be a tough stint since we can't fully coordinate with local forces. And I'm assuming Ellysia's embeds can't speak English so we're on our own on that front," I explain.

  "Then you'll be happy to know it's a work in progress with that team of theirs. And supposedly those three already had dealings with us... though I'm not really sure in what way. Princess Ellysia didn't specify beyond that," Calder says.

  A sudden lump forms in my throat. Maybe I'm reading this wrong, but the moment Calder specified that last part, my suspicions rose. That revelation is a huge red flag. This isn't a coincidence. It can't be.

  "Noted," I mutter. "If you can, get me more intel on the three. I need to know their unit—names—any physical descriptions you can about them. Would that be possible?"

  The Ambassador tilts his head at the Embassy. "You'll have to talk with Moreau for that one. Lunelle's off on some kind of uh—errand down in the city centre. The mission's still scheduled two days from now. So, no guarantees she'll get your info before then."

  Calder heads back inside the compound and gestures me to follow. "Might as well ask her in person, don't think I didn't notice how close you two have gotten," he says with a lopsided grin.

  I glance away and shrug off his comment. It was bound to happen eventually. I had spent a lot of time with the researcher—often assisting with her work, giving my perspective on topics she raised, and scrutinizing the latest revisions of her English-Nul'Kurai dictionary.

  Stolen story; please report.

  It was all voluntary—mostly because of a vested interest to learn about the world we'd stumbled into. It would allow me to better navigate future missions as needed. The more I understand the Euralians, their culture, and most importantly their language, the less issues my team will face further down the line.

  Ashley simply represented the shortest route to that goal, though that's not to say she wasn't good company. If all that gave off a certain... impression, then I guess that's on us.

  "We just clicked, nothing really too much to say," I assert, following the man up the small flight of stairs that will take us inside the Embassy. As it stands, I consider my relationship with Ashley as being strictly professional. The others can spin our interactions however they want, but it won't change the truth.

  Calder chuckles. "I'll take your word for it Lieutenant," he concedes.

  Inside, the Embassy's furnished interior still bares the hallmarks of the previous occupant's trade. Rows of shelves had been hastily shoved to one corner, emptied of whatever contents they had formerly held. Across the room, a counter is positioned adjacent to a flight of stairs leading up to the second floor, staffed by one of the Palace servants. A young woman—the receptionist, glances up and flashes a weak smile, offering a quick wave upon our arrival.

  Encouraged by her cordial demeanor, I steady myself and prepare to reciprocate her greeting. This seems like a good time to put my proficiency to the test. "S—sahn'seyr."

  It comes out awkward—unnatural. I catch the slight twitch in the servant's expression, though her polite nod meant it must have been passable. Not bad for a first attempt in the field.

  Calder nudges me lightly. "Less emphasis on the second part. You don't need to articulate that hard at the end, let it taper off gently," he advises.

  "I'll keep that in mind," I say.

  The woman steps out and presents Calder with a scroll she procured from her station which I quickly identify as the same one carried by that messenger prior. If the council had decided on sending a courier directly to the Embassy, then whatever's inside is important—likely something that might significantly impact our upcoming mission.

  The Ambassador takes the scroll and skims its contents. After a minute he hands it back to the receptionist with a solemn nod. I quietly observe as a conversation takes place, occasionally picking out a word or two as they tackled what sounded like a particularly serious topic.

  As they converse, I move over to a nearby table and settle in one of the empty seats, giving the pair space to discuss their issues without interruption. The chair lets out a soft creak—barely audible over the continued exchange. I unsling my rifle, prop it against the wall and give the reception hall another cursory look.

  Despite our efforts to furnish this place, it still felt unfamiliar. It was all in the subtle details we didn't remove, such as the local signages nailed on the exit, counter and stairs leading up to the second floor. At least the symbols used are somewhat familiar... though the same can't be said for the words beside them. Not yet at least.

  As the discussion concludes, the Ambassador makes a sudden turn and heads over to me, crossing the entire room in a few short moments. The young woman returns to her counter with a heavy look on her face. Her eyes fell onto mine for a brief moment before skirting away, the weight behind them giving me pause. This is definitely something serious.

  "Simmons," the Ambassador intones, prompting me to gather my rifle and stand up.

  "What is it, what happened?" I ask, registering the urgency in not just his voice but also expression.

  "Change of plans, Princess Ellysia's expediting the mission at the formal request of the Euralian Military. Your team's leaving tonight—2300 hours along with her team. The frontlines up north have almost collapsed, and that triage is at risk of being overrun within the next 48 hours. We're their only hope to get their critically wounded out of there," Calder announces.

  I give him a small nod. If the situation out there is as bad as reported, then there's no room for delays.

  "I can get my team to bounce in four hours," I answer, mentally running through the logistics in my head. Weapons—ammunition—comms, and lastly medical supplies. Those are the only essentials to line up by evening and four hours should be enough.

  "Okay, I'll give them the news. We'll meet you at the palace courtyard. You need anything from the stores we've requested?"

  "Just the first aid kits here, we'll need as much as possible—in case the situation there's worse than we thought."

  "Done, the Embassy can do without them. I'll bring them over once I'm done locking my office," Calder assures.

  "Thanks, I'll see you at the Valor," I say, slinging my weapon back across my chest.

  After excusing myself, I head out of the Embassy and pass by the two soldiers that Turner had posted by the entrance.

  "Back to that palace already?" One of the troopers questions with a raised brow.

  "Yeah, something came up. Need to bounce over to my team soon for an Op."

  "Good hunting then, we've got this place under wraps," the trooper adds.

  Giving a short nod, I step out onto the streets and set off at a rapid pace. The city stretches ahead as a network of domes and spires. In the north, the palace rose over the cityscape, crested by the unmistakable symbol of Royalty at its highest point, bright sunlight reflecting off its metallic visage.

  Leveling my attention back on the streets, I begin retracing my steps, cutting through the district just as I had with Turner's squad an hour ago.

  There isn't any time to waste.

  ======

  The Princess marches onto the courtyard, flanked by over a dozen guards and several attendants including her Liaison. As always, she carries herself with refined poise, though it is—unsurprisingly, accompanied by a cold look. As much as I had anticipated this, it's still disappointing to see the lack of change in her attitude.

  She is undeniably attractive despite that stubborn facade. Even a light smile would have done wonders to reinforce that impression.

  Behind the entourage further away from the group is a trio soldiers dressed in exactly the type of battle dress I had expected. A sleeker, more streamlined helmet design. The unique presence of a red cape. And the distinction of being armed with battle-scepters—as they are apparently called. Those are the same damn uniforms from our first brush with the Euralians.

  No two ways about it. It was them.

  "One male, two females. Ice Queen's got a shitty sense of humour," James grumbles, catching my attention.

  "Doesn't really matter... right? If they're on her payroll—means they're on a tight leash," Robert calmly surmises, though his voice didn't fully hide his reservations.

  Princess Ellysia breaks away from her escorts along with the Liaison. Without issuing formal introductions, the enigmatic woman begins articulating in her native language. It is brief—only a handful of words, which I assume are a set of directives or instructions for the team.

  The Liaison immediately follows up before I can further speculate on the words. "Work together... save kin... slay enemy if need be," she translates with a heavy accent over her words.

  Douglas steps away and raises the pilots over comms. "Blue-One, Desert Two. We've got visual on our embeds. Have the Valor prepped in ten."

  Adams, the Valor's copilot replies over the channel. "Desert-Two—Blue-One, copy. All systems showing green, we have her primed for takeoff."

  "Good to hear, standby."

  The Princess turns around and issues a flick of her wrist. The guards respond, breaking away and reconstituting into two distinct columns. In the ensuing silence, the three mages slowly advance between the newly established line of guards, with not a single one willing to look me... look us, in the eye. Is it guilt, or hatred ? A part of me suspected both—expected it even.

  Releasing a deep breath, I turn to Ambassador Calder and gesture to the incoming figures. "Last chance to call it off."

  The man shakes his head. "I've... we've got orders from anthropology to lay the groundwork for the UN's relations with the Euralians. And it's also our first real opportunity to do some good on New Eden. So we can't pass it up. "

  I roll my eyes even though the visor hid the act. "Could have just said no."

  Calder briefly smiles before regaining his composure. "I'll put in a good word for your team with Cygnus once we're done here—maybe get your team in on that bonus we've got," he vows.

  "Sounds good." This isn't what I needed now, but I'll take it.

  One of the mages finally musters the courage to look up, giving me an opportunity to examine her features. Pale hair-violet eyes, and that same damning expression that barely hid her disdain.

  The urge to hurl accusations, even just flip her off hits me hard. It didn't matter if she couldn't understand a word, or that the gesture may result in a diplomatic incident if... when they find out what it meant. There is still a reckoning to be paid from her team firing the first shot—quite literally.

  I take a deep breath and pull myself back from the temptation. There will be a time and place for me to address our history, but it isn't here. I can afford to bring this up at a later time.

  Taking one step to the side, I motion the mage and her two associates towards the Valor. "Go inside," I say, prompting the Liaison to interject and translate the command on my behalf.

  "Robert, James," I call out, getting the two operatives into attention.

  "Follow Douglas and show these three idiots to their seats. Make sure they don't touch anything and seize all weapons. I don't want them starting shit like they did the first time. If they cause trouble, sound off. One person each—hold 'em steady," I announce, delegating the operatives to escort a single mage each and no more.

  "On it," James says as he guides the nearest one ahead, his hand clamped over the woman's shoulder as they move.

  Under heavy scrutiny, all three make their way towards the Valor without protest. Before stepping inside, Robert takes up position and thoroughly searches them confiscating their battle-scepters, knives, and other such items that could be considered a weapon. They didn't resist or give the team any trouble which I did appreciate.

  Robert gives me a thumbs up after clearing the last one. "They're clean—sending 'em in," he reports.

  In a single file, the three mages step inside followed by the operatives. Douglas enters last and turns around, his voice crackling over comms. "Jerome, waiting on you."

  "One minute," I reply.

  The Ambassador takes a small step towards the Princess and initiates another conversation. She follows the discussion and interjects on occasion, sending a few glances my way as she did so.

  And there it is. A light, candid smile—barely visible. It is the first time she's ever carried herself that away. Calder extends a hand towards her as he concludes their discussion.

  She studies it for a few seconds, as though mulling over whether to accept it with a troubled expression. In the end, she mirrors the gesture and shakes his hand. Turning her head slightly, she issues a command to her escorts behind, her voice cutting through the constant drone of the Valor's engines.

  Her guards shift, the mass of armour and bodies reforming itself into their prior formation as she offers Calder a short bow which is quickly reciprocated by the Ambassador. The attendants and Liaison fall in behind as she turns away to rejoin her escort detail.

  "It's usually against the norm for anyone to touch Royalty. You'd be kicked out of the city... and that's only if they didn't decide to arrest you," Calder says, watching the aforementioned Princess and her mass of followers retreat inside the palace.

  "What's stopping them here?" I question. The Euralians as I understand them place great emphasis on tradition and established practices, particularly if it concerns the throne and those with relation to it.

  "She's dead set on our tech—how it works and how we make 'em," Ambassador Calder sighs, "But that's my domain, let me handle that front. Get on the Valor, I'll hold the fort till your team gets back. Moreau's got an associates degree in Nursing. I'll clear her schedule for the next two days to help with the wounded."

  "Good, that helps," I say, refraining from mentioning that I already knew that much about Ashley's background.

  It wouldn't do us any favours.

  Excusing myself, I quickly stride over to the Valor bracing against the downdraft its rotors presented. After stepping onboard, I turn around and shut the door behind me, catching a final look at the Ambassador as he stares from the courtyard.

  Clustered on the central aisle, the Euralians occupy the seats facing outwards to the cabin's right, tightly clutching their harnesses, their helmets stowed in the space provided beneath their seats. My team takes the rear, keeping eyes on their counterparts ahead, rifles resting on their laps preferring the practice over stowing their weapons on the racks mounted between their seats.

  The Valor's chassis shook as it tilts forward, the sudden shift in momentum almost throwing me off balance before I grab onto a handle dangling overheard. Moving to the front, I squeeze past the gunner's seat situated between the cockpit and the rest of the cabin and stand behind the pilot's left.

  Past the cockpit, the city's signature architecture unfurls as the Valor continues its steep ascent. Just below, the aircraft's avionics display mirrors the scene—stylized domes and towers filling the digital space in organized clusters which extend out to the fortified outer walls. The streets curve, divide, and intersect across the dense urban landscape as the aircraft assumes a northeastern heading, interlaced with several panels tracking flight data and telemetry in real-time. More than half of the information they presented is lost to me.

  The pilot turns around slightly and issues a report. "Skies are clear Lieutenant. Fifty minutes till we hit the pipe."

  Another voice interjects on the right. "Don't suppose we should contact Euralian ATC, or whatever they have here," Adams comments with a lighthearted grin.

  I wince as the copilot's statement hits a bit too close to my predictions. In a few years—assuming the UN has its way, that statement won't be a joke. It will be a distant possibility if things stay as they are now with Cygnus.

  "When we get there, I want the Valor to make a few passes over the triage site—make sure it's still in Euralian hands. Until we can confirm that, we'll maintain a close orbit around the site. At least thirty metres above ground," I instruct.

  "Understood," the Pilot acknowledges, followed by a similar response from the copilot.

  "Raise me when we're ten minutes out," I say before retreating back to the cabin.

  Moving to the central aisle, I signal for everyone's attention, including the Euralian embeds. "Alright team, eyes up. Just gonna run through a few points," I pause, mentally listing the points in order of importance before continuing.

  "Once we reach the site, we'll hover around the triage to make sure everything's in order. As of the latest intel its currently still under Euralian hands but we're not going to assume that. Pilot says we'll be there in fifty mikes—plenty of time to check your weapons and equipment again. Make sure everything's good," I say, holding up a finger.

  All three operatives nod in acknowledgement. That's one down. Two more to go.

  I raise a second finger. "Keep it mind that our first and only objective is to help assist their wounded and conduct Casevac as needed. This is the first time we'll be visiting one of their encampments, but don't get distracted by what you see on the ground. We're here to save lives—to make a difference."

  I scan their visors. There are no questions. No voices raised in opposition. Just their undivided attention.

  Holding up a third, I turn to the three Euralian mages sitting a short distance a way. "It'll be an active warzone. I'm expecting the triage to be a mess, which is where they come in. We're not yet up to standard with the local language, so they're job is to brief the troops on why we're here and clear up the confusion. This one's on you guys," I say, pointing a stern finger in their general direction.

  The other woman, shorter than her peers with a messy trim of pale hair, straightens her posture and nods almost comically as she utters a short phrase. I didn't fully catch what she said, but I assume it is some kind of affirmative.

  "Glad to know she's in on this," James remarks, pausing to gesture at the group, "one out of three's good enough."

  "You know their names?" Douglas asks.

  I shake my head. "No... not yet."

  "We'll need to change that," the operative intones.

  I concede with a nod at my second-in-command. We have to learn their names eventually. For this specific mission... if nothing else.

  ===End===

  -Excerpt from the Memoirs of Princess Ellysia Ver'Nohira III – Recollections of the Human Arrivals Part II

  Inora Ver'Leria... former battle-sorceress of the 21st Royal Cohort. She was young—merely beginning her tithe of two years in the army.

  Her ventures with the first of the human soldiers inspired a great many questions. Questions which kept my loyal cadre of scholars salivating. The humans were somewhere to the south—amidst the distant mire of mountains and valleys which five hundred years ago was a part of Old Nez'ra.

  But at the time, the war had soured. My concerns lay on the fringe eastern fronts in which the army had contested. I oversaw the campaign at the behest of her esteemed Majesty... my late mother, watched as her legions thinned, as their lines regressed like the tides in waning.

  Entire towns, villages, and hamlets were laid to waste. These border settlements were often of mixed heritage, yet it mattered not. These were innocents caught in the jaws of war, and they were slaughtered as a consequence.

  Such a fate would have befallen a mending encampment had I not personally tasked the battle-sorceress and her cadre to aid in its exodus.

  She was joined by the humans' elites. A gathering of four warriors—masters of the ranged discipline, clad in a regalia of black armour which entombed their entire bodies.

  Time was of the essence, and the humans' United Nations had the only means of reaching the encampment within a day—a Valor.

  It was a construct of unparalleled automation and intricacy—a metallic beast of burden and bird of prey. The secrets to its inner workings... even to this day remain a mystery.

  It could have been ours, had I impounded it—entrusted it to the Kingdom's finest artisans for study, and destroyed what fledgling trust they had given to us. But I needed them.

  And so, it soared. Untouched and free.