Eodem: a Rifle and Sword Adventure - Chapter 61

The ashes of Siege’s destruction over the many burgs across the old Imperial Capital of Haringpoint began to die down as Prince Clovich’s forces consolidated themselves into the city’s hearths. Temporary segregated housing between the Amelioration forces and Haringpoint’s citizenry were erected as the Third Laniyea Rifle Battalion was, for the time being de-mobilized into a Labour Force to help rebuild the damaged capital. Picking up rubble and repairing the damaged houses and Haringpoint’s canal crossings that dotted the city. Yet alas, the UFE’s Fire Storm like artillery had for better or for worse had done irreparable damage to the fair Slaegian Imperial Capital’s many timeless monuments.

A lamentable disappointment for Prince Clovich, the leader of the Ysanigrad Amelioration. But an inevitable price he had paid to see his manifested vision of a new Gliesia take shape.

Of other such prices spoken was the losses his own forces had suffered too.

Compared to previous wars that they had faced in battles past, Clovich’s Laniyea suffered a 40% Mortality Rate amongst his 2000 strong forces. Precisely 806 brave men fought for his and their collective Dream for a New Ysanigrad. Only the Third Battalion of his newly modernized forces were at the end of the campaign remained relatively intact of his directly commanded forces of the fledgling Tyr Rianni Laniyea. Such reapings for Tivna was a result of the Laniyea’s relative inexperience using their new Rifles during the battles of Operation Haymaker and tragically, UFEAF’s own healers would often prioritize mending the wounds of their own soldiers rather than his men regardless of severities or rank causing many deaths to occur by accident, neglect or both. Adding to the Amelioration’s casualties were 223 casualties from his Federation Allies to a total of 1049. A rather meager comparison against the vestigial Slaegians and their Second Alliance of the Light that suffered a catastrophic rout of all of their 380,000 strong forces.

Immediately, he ordered those new replenishments of manpower from back home and the extension of their training be immediately put forth by his decree in response. Targeting unit specialization in a variety of modernized battlefield roles such as an Artillery Regiment, Motorized Infantry, and even their localized Special Operations forces designed to Combat Magicks with their own breed of Magicks and Federation Technology. For the time being of 4 months, however, he has to rely on the Federation Soldiers and the Masnachwr-Dug or the linguistically translated Merchant-Duke Megacorporation Mercenaries to maintain his power base amongst the Knightly Warrior class of his regime. This won’t work well in the long run of having the former Slaegian realms integrate under his rulership as long as the foreigners are the de-facto face of his Amelioration and not flesh and blood Gliesians such as his Laniyea. Yet alas, the child must remain within the tutor’s shadow. There is much more to learn before they can become the worthy Protectors and Knights of the new Gliesia.

He sighed and coughed the excess ash off his lungs for temporary relief under the weight of his Amelioration’s underlying problems.

Although buildings for the most part can be repaired and replaced with new stone and freshly cut wood, the human was the true scarring the city had endured. Many of the burghers of Haringpoint who had not escaped the city before its capture were rounded up by the UFEAF’s soldiers and taken within the City where they now sit at the present in squalid temporary housing and meager nourishments if they even accepted the generosity of the Federation Soldiers at all. Not even the recently passed Ashfall over the Continent had caused several of the peoples to whiff several coughs from the impure air that still permeates around the war-torn continent. Such miserably repressive conditions are a virile breeding ground for restless dissension amongst the Haringpoint Burghers who suddenly become both homeless and prisoners in their own city at the same time. Many of the city folks do not recognize his authority ruling over them due to the recent violence, many seeing him as ‘the Puppet-Emperor’ for the Invaders to dance around their yoke. Already Clovich had to reluctantly order several riots attempts amongst the captive civilians with a few grim crackdowns of his forces to quell any further damage to the city and the people. His advisors counseled him that this situation must be addressed soon before it festers into cancer that could unbalance the divide of power his Amelioration brought forth.

But how does help another who refuses any form of help?

Victory for his part in breaking through the siege was perhaps more demoralizing than if he had failed. There were records of witnesses from among his troops that several of the Haringpoint City Folks had prior committed suicide in their despair, ‘Not wanting to let the Demons have them and their families.’ as they said before taking their lives. He had to evacuate the First and Second Battalions out to the city outskirts as their morale lowered for every roof toss, hanging and self-sliced throats that happen by the dozens in Haringpoint. Just the other day, the Amelioration witnessed a grisly scene of a famous artisan of whom Clovich wished to source his talents and connections only to be found his entire household hung on the neck by ropes as they entered his manse. The answer of removing any dangerous items that could be used for suicide and patrols by the rooftops only seemed to further rile the captive citizenry.

The Free Food Programs, a reactionary measure formed during the Ostalroc Eruption fared no better. Despite using rationed crops sourced from the food surpluses from Souviel and Tyr Rian. Barely anyone at all dared approach their Stalls and Mobile Kitchens, refusing to eat the ‘tainted’ food provided by the Demons. It was only when their hunger and thirst besieged them for too long that they would sneak by and run off without another word or eye sight a few handfuls of nourishments. Those that do so happen to eat up the food from their free will were unfortunately among the ‘At-Risk’ of Suicide demographic, having given up being ‘human’ no longer and being ‘corrupted’ already so adding much more taint was no different in tipping the scales off their conscience.

Clovich’s eyes rolled aside as his fist tightened over this display of the famous ‘Slaegian Adamantine’. Such stubbornness that had turned the desolate and wild Ysanigrad Continent would soon become their undoing the more they continue.

“Clovich.” Mr. Sight lightly bowed as he entered his room.

“What is it now Thomas?” the Prince asked his Liaison.

“Several affairs for you to put in order” He explained his intrusion.

Quietly he placed a stack of doc.u.ments below onto his desk. A new evolution of his Amelioration is the transition of using bleached white paper and metallic ‘ball pointed pens to sign bureaucratic doc.u.ments. Clovich had his most gifted scribes and lawyers learn the Federation’s languages of English and then transcribing said legal papers into Vaikuri for his and his court’s official usages. Thanks to the additional reaching powers of the Ethernet, he can extend his authority to the farthest reaches of his realm and beyond making him and his company of viziers and ministers if not more efficient than the old Imperial llywodraeth. He could be anywhere whenever he needs to be where.

One of the new duties he has for the Amelioration is the approval or disapproval of several initiatives brought forth by his foreign advisors in modernizing the Gliesia up to par with the Federation. This included the approval of several new construction programs that aims to rebuild, repair or establish the battered Duchy of Tifrait and the Ostalroc Mountains back to their former industrious glory. He will need the earth of the Dwarfen Mountains and the Lumber of the Forest to help materialize his expansive vision for the Empire. For his own people, he will need to revive the food supply, which had been buried beneath the ashes. Osei Korporasie has offered to assist in this urgent endeavor of developing the modernized Agrarian Sectors of Gliesia with their expertise in this new technology known as ‘Vertical Farming’.  And lastly, to truly carve his mark onto Ysanigrad as the one true Lord of Lords, he will have to enact his sweeping reforms. All in that order.

“The Merchant-Duke, known as ‘Max-sim-off En-Djinn-nearing’ is asking for approval to go to the Ostalrocs? Yes.” He wrote down his signature and stamped his seal, the Shield of the House of Rian onto the paper. “Expedition to the South Lands, with Laniyea troops? No. Not until Ghana’s Wall has fallen.” he nodded.

It was a relief that despite the difficulties here at the front, he can rest assure his homeland is faring well in these ever-changing tides.

“Baby-Steps. Even the greatest of empires began with a few single steps.” Thomas reassured him.

“More Rifles? Or New Armor? I have the final say… My men took a beating against those Black Elves… Armor.” He reads another paper, it was from his Captain, Ser Maghe.

“Ah, Miss Eden and her Gifts of the Fey? Food for all? It shall be done.” Clovich smiled. “We have to move fast and quick if the Tree I plant can grow tall.”

“Indeed, you must.” Thomas approvingly nodded.

Just as he was about to leave however, he was stopped by a heavy-breathed Clerk, one of Clovich’s own who relayed him a message from the Frontlines in a Datapad.

“For both of you.” The Clerk explained himself.

Grabbing the Datapad he looked over the Messages to read for himself. His eyes paled, stunned when his ice blue cyborg eyes saw the red-colored font that spoke over a dreaded word that made the machine-like bureaucrat’s fingers quiver as he turned to the Prince who looked on curiously of his atypical about-face.

“What happened?” Clovich asked Mr. Sight.

“There’s an Epidemic, a Plague in the Duchy of Kalmte.” Thomas’ breathed heavily as he spoke.

[-]

If there was one blessing amongst the forsaken slopes of the post-volcanic Ostalrocs had brought forth was an opportunity.

Vadim Yohantov had eyed hungrily to the survey results, what the drones were producing was promising, so promising that their four mining drills may as well be children in a candy store. There were several deposits of the usual valuables needed to make many electronics, weaponry, and tools ranging from Iron, Silver, Gold, Tungsten, and Platinum. After getting off the info from the Government Scientists who had arrived prior, the Industrial Vadim is now turning his gaze on the applications of the unique minerals of Scandanite, Actocolite, and Mana, specifically Red Mana Crystals, for his corporation’s interests. Right now, in his mobile headquarters, they will need to get their affairs in order before he can begin exploitation.

“Boss? What do you mean your only sending just a hundred?” Vadim’s nerves pulsated from his brow.

He was talking with his superiors from Mars who

“The Other Corpo’s, especially Aparo are already ahead of us. Knowing them, they are probably making their move to send you and every one of you packing before the year-end. We are trying to play it safe Mister Yahontov ever since Osei Corp. took our best fields.” His superiors said.

“But this is probably the greatest discovery we since Pavel Maximov founded Chrome on Mars.” He argued, attempting to appeal to the company’s centuries-long history of pioneership.

“It’s not the two-thousand and sixty’s anymore Vadim.” The Martian-counterpart explained himself. “We have been in the red for the past Nine Years straight and if we don’t want to start downsizing everyone and everything of our company, we have to play it safe until we can make our move. You have to make do with the smaller than normal staff. This meeting is over.”

The Corporate Executive cut off his communication feed leaving Vadim to sink back at the comfort of his leather chair, his personal air conditioning unit at his side providing the only comfort to his heated debate. His typical bravado contrasted by his present despondency. His salesman-charisma in public was a mask, intended to hide Maximov Engineering’s weakness of their decline in profits for the past decade. This expedition into the Frontier was already a significant risk for the Corporation’s Board of Directors, their limited resources to mount this spearhead was significantly downsized compared to normal. They can thank their recent failures of past years that resulted in them selling one of their most profitable Real Estates to Osei Korporasie to recuperate.

100 Staffers plus his 30 On-site men are nowhere near enough to be able to fully secure Maximov’s Interests amongst the Ostalrocs for the foreseeable future of the company. Sooner than later, the Board’s risk-averse decisions of scaling back their support on him will see them be forced to become a shadow of their once industrious selves, an inadequate inheritor their vanguard founder, the Geologist Dr. Pavel Maximov who standardized the Full-Planetary Geographic Survey now used by successors, followers and Scanning-Drones alike. Osei, Aparo, and H.S. with their superior numbers and resources at hand as his Business Intel Analyst told him will simply outmaneuver them in every turn unless he could find a way to turn 130 Men into a Legion of a thousand!

The Board wanted the stars without forking the cash to buy them. Those lazy chair-warmers be damned.

Vadim, heavy with frustration, turned by his window and yelled. He yelled loudly as the roar of his voice echoed across the metallic frames of his Corporate Mobile Trailer. Tossing away his office pens and papers underneath the privacy of his office. His Secretary, Interns, and Supporters hearing his anger across the room knowing that they too share in his grievances, yet too afraid to speak up further to their superiors about it. Quietly continuing their work to maintain the façade of all of Maximov’s systems were green and going.

He now walks a thin line as a Maximov Representative from this point onwards, one wrong move and his foray into the new world will be liquidated like the gushing geysers that sprouted out of his office. In a post-Phoenician Corporate World for men like Vadim, red of Poverty is a greater dread than red of bloody death.

Then a glimmer shone across his eyes as he looked onwards to the window.

Over his line of sight, the Maximov Corporate Compound was laid below an edifice of a towering rock, at least roughly the height of a ten-story building, its surface rippled with rock, tree and left-over ash yet to be swiped away or be swallowed onto the soil. A lone fissure is within view. Shards of stone edge from its sides into the passage like spears from murder-holes in the mountain’s walls. There was a makeshift pathway leading upward before passing out of sight around a bend. Earlier this weekday, the Maximov Employees created several roadways leading around a 10-kilometer radius from their Compound to allow supplies and the brave adventurers to pass through easily.

His eyes caught several of the Natives, ones classified as the stout-bodied Dwarves running down the hills by the entrance of the Compound just by the baselines of the Ostalrocs. They wore some of their old armor across their mining gear but were tattered from the taint of the black earth the new Mountain Range cloaked itself under. They were running down the hills towards him whilst being chased by several insectoid monsters.

Vadim rushed towards his phone and contacted his Security Team. “A-Antony! Someone is trouble! Code Red!” he yelled.

Immediately, red-tinted sirens began to blare across the compound as a crack team of 18 Security Guards ran outside with their weapons drawn and ready for a fight.

“Get in quick!” Antony, the Chief of Security cried to the Dwarves as the Main Gate of the Maximov Compound opened.

He sported his heavily-armored Exo Suit and his Mili-Tek M143 Gatling Gun and began to open fire upon the swarm of bug monsters that harried the Dwarves, carefully aiming their shots over their smaller buddies as the squat-sized Natives dashed towards the sanctuary of the Compound as fast as their stunted legs could take them. Crashing themselves onto the Cargo Bay as their Otherworldly saviors drew the line on the sand against the insectoid monsters.

Maximov maybe profit-driven yes, glory be the risk-takers they are. But they are fully Selfish that they ignore the cries of help from beaten Travellers as this day has shown.

The Seven Dwarves that reached the hearth of the Maximov Compound exhaustively collapsed as they breathe their tired lungs of the Camp’s safety. Witnessing the Chief of Security, Antony fending off the Monstrous Insects with his Minigun singlehandedly. Depleted 7.62×51 millimeter tore through the monsters with ruthless efficiency, coating the mountain slope in their turquoise blood, their bodies are broken into a mush-like paste of hard and soft cartilages and guts.

“S-such Magicks!” one of the Dwarves spoke in awe as Antony’s Minigun powered down. His ears still ringing from the sudden hailstorm that became his and his companions’ salvation.

“All Hostiles are clear.” Antony sheathed his weapon away.

With safety assured, the rescued Dwarves were immediately given warm thermal blankets, a cold round of spring water, and a warm soup from the Company Mess Hall to facilitate their new guests warmly as best as a Mining Compound could.

“You are all okay?” Vadim came down from his office and questioned the Dwarves. He took care to turn on his automatic translator to communicate with the Dwarves from English to Vaikuri. “Who are you? What are you doing here?”

“And what are those creatures?” Antony added.

“I-I shall speak…” One Dwarf slowly emerged from his thermal blanket, his voice still trembling to catch his breath. Sweat escaped from his damp white shirt and off his brow as his face glistened upon the lamplight of the Compound’s Cargo Bay. “I am Robren Sternkith. Oh, great Knights from the Stars above, we thank you for saving our lives. I and my friends braved the journey to the remains of our mountain homes to see if there was anything we could reclaim any of our lost relics or anything of value.” His breath still attempting to catch up from his unfortunate predicament. But there was a relief on his bearded smile as he humbly bowed to Antony and Vadim.

“Thank you, but we’re not ‘Knights’. We’re just like you, looking for something to make money out of.” Vadim acknowledged a soft smiled escaped from his wetted lips. “So how did you end up like this?”

“We were by the basin beyond those hills that you seen us descend screaming down from. While we were there, we found a cave that sprouted a rich vein of Silver as far as my eyes could have seen… then they came…” another Dwarf stood up.

“Those bug monsters?” Vadim asked.

“They are called Horaxes. Or Deep Worms by those of the Flatlands of the old Empire. They are these giant bugs who burrow their nests deep unto the earth and prey on whatever their mouths could feed their hives. Mushrooms, Critters… even People.” Robren explained, his voice quaked after every word. “Before the Cipag passed his anger against us, the Hold Dwarfen Geomancers and their Warriors would keep us Thralls safe from those monsters so we can continue our work in peace. But now that they are all gone, their nests were allowed to fester. Strange however it maybe that they would reach the surface. I thought the Volcano would have wiped them out too.

“We were just twenty of us, but the monsters took us by surprise. We are likely all that is left. If they continue to harry us we may never be able to reclaim our homeland nor continue mining the Mountains as long as those Horaxes continue to run amok.” One of the other Dwarves reported.

“Damn, that’s tragic. I am sorry you had to go through that…” Vadim shook his head. “Wait… did you say you say ‘a vein of Silver’? Just by your lonesome?” his eyes sparkled when he heard Robren’s account.

“By our lonesome yes. What a fool I was to not have someone to protect us from them as we work. Many minerals, enough to rebuild our old lands whole if only we could reach them. Not like you… with your giant golems and Magical Knights on your side. You slew those beasts with such ease.” Robren flattered.

A glimmer of light broke from within the Maximov Representative’s eyes. A light that sparked beneath the pride he had when he and his co-workers first touched down on Gliesia. He smiled; his teeth honeyed in charisma as puffed his c.h.e.s.t upwards.

“It is good, very good to hear that people appreciate our work already. Consider our hospitality a token of our gratitude.” Vadim’s bravado oozed out of his tongue.

“Milords… I mean… well… I… Ser’s…” Robren stuttered. “We are both correct to know that we both wish to unlock the hidden treasures of the Old Mountain. Your Great Machines and Knights you pale in comparison to us Dwarves of which we stand humbled by your diligent prowess. Able to fight and take whatever you please yet have enough to live each and all of you like Godly-Kings”

“Oh, enough of those. I know… but tell me more about you and your hardy people.” Vadim vented off the flattery.

“It is with my most earnest of pleas that may you grant us your blessings.” Robren asked.

“Blessings?” Vadim’s brow furrowed. “Is this not enough?”

“No, I mean… with your Great Machines and Knights you could be able to restore our homeland once and for all, bigger brighter as the shining jewel of the Continent once again. No longer wracked in the blood of those ill-fated birth like the Law of Old where the Old Masters took all of our harvests and left us with the scraps, but one where all of the Dwarfs may rejoice and their ancestors be Glad. We wish, on behalf of all of us seven companions that we lay prostrate unto you and take us under your banner. Teach us the secrets of your Great Machines and your Knights so we may make the Ostalrocs whole again.” Robren replied. His eyes sliding curiously towards Antony’s Minigun. His eyes marveled at the ingenuity of its design, specifically its rotary barrels that seemed to float around its motor with fey-like grace.

“Have you?” Vadim’s throat croaked. Such an offer was too much, to have these stout-height natives work for him. “I am sorry but I must decline. Our… the Scale of our work and responsibilities maybe too much for you Dwarves to come into. I will be no better than your previous Masters. It is more than just pickaxes and shovels unlike what you do.” He declined.

“But we are willing to learn your ways. We have been miners of this old mountain for generations. We are strong and hardy people. I-I can prove it to you!” a dwarf leaped from his seating. He dashed towards a pile of heavy boxes filled with supplies and lifted a stack of cargo boxes that a normal human would need the help of several of his peers or an exo-suit to carry stably. Using his impressive Dwarfen strength he glided the heavy boxes over to the other side of the cargo bay without breaking a sweat.

This physical display intrigued Vadim away from his doubts about these seven Dwarves. They may be inexperienced at least in the deeper intricacies of industrialized mining compared to their past as manual laborers. But they were Eager.

Eager enough that they are willing to step up to the plate. Likely for much less than any Federal Human would ask for.

“You Otherworlders too are much like them thin-boned human outside of your Armors. But us Dwarves got strong legs that even the most of you can even push us down without using that powered suit of yours.” Robren stated as he challenged Chief of Security, Antony to push him.

The Security Guard obliged and jostled with the Dwarf, to his surprise, Rorben was able to stand on his own against the weight of his Exo-suit even if it was at its minimum power output. Typically, his mechanized suit would have tossed anything lesser of strength like loose furniture and toys. But Robren remained in place if sweating considerably to maintain his balance.

“Do not take my words ill…” Robren added, his cheeks blushed. “We can be invaluable additions to your Guild. With our knowledge of the Ostalrocs and your Tools we could carve deep into the Pits of the Abyss itself.”

Vadim looks at their demonstration and his eyes become bright. These dwarves had potential to be an invaluable indeed despite their inexperience. Being people of stronger built than other races in Gleisia able to if minimally match against their strength with exo-suits and but also retain the stamina and will to keep working extreme if not outright dangerous environments. With enough training invested to fill the gaps he needs for their general knowledge on all Maximov Mining Technologies, they can both a resilient yet plentiful workforce that he can churn out to allay the Megacorporation’s lack of manpower in Gliesia. He doesn’t even need to have them equipped with as much upkeep and ‘benefits’ as those pesky Worker Unions would demand before they could even touch a single pebble back home at Federation Space. Hiring more of these Dwarves he can assign them to the roles he needed in order to neutralize whatever hostile fauna they encounter lurking beneath the mountains but also extract whatever hidden caches of precious metals he could beneath the Ostalrocs. Their familial ties being an advantage to network hire dozens if not entire family’s worth of men to be converted for the Maximov Corporation’s interests. No need for Maximov to ship workers from Core worlds to here, just pay the minimum for their efficient output of all the minerals Maximov would need to turn the blackened Ostalroc Mountains golden-green with Credits raining down on his wallet.

“Robren, you and your six friends are hired.” Vadim grinned his teeth. His eyes gleamed greedily.

Time to start rolling those Drills. The mountain shall be tamed by Maximov Engineering alone. Just like their red-handed Founder.

[-]

They say a cornered cat is the most dangerous, yet a bounded habafant meant for the sacrificial plate knows that it is helpless. Like a gnat caught on a spider’s web, the citizenry of Haringpoint tried as they might to resist the temptations of their Otherworldly captors and their traitorous kinsmen from the south. The harder they defied the worst their depressing conditions became. F.o.r.c.i.b.l.y prisoners in their own homes as blaring voices echoed primal words of ‘Food’, ‘Water’, ‘Healing’ be spoken by the Invaders.

“Do not attack any longer! The War is over. The Federation has come only to be friends with us. They are our friends. They will help rebuild our country back.” The passing iron cart of an Otherworlder with a booming voice spoke in Vaikuri across the streets of Haringpoint every day from sunrise to sunset. He besieged them with appeals and urges to those stubborn of Burghers to yield. Most closed the doors of their homes and windows as he approaches but his verbal bombardment remained consistent, cracking several burghers if gradually day-by-day.

Some Slaegians tried to continue the fight, attempting to assault their occupiers with stones, kitchen knives, and pitchforks only to be made swift examples of.

“A hundred curses on you!” One such hot-headed youth alongside a band of his mates cracked towards the Federation Soldiers. Their vicious mockery not enough to fully provoke them into action but still expressed their distaste even if they couldn’t fight back.

Young men like him did their own forms of aggression against the occupiers. Many of the Youth of Haringpoint used to be playful and outgoing lots but the strict restrictions the Otherworlders had placed upon them enraged them. Although they weren’t as trained of a fighter as a Legionnaire or as hardy as their country brethren still out there fighting the Invaders, those devious rascals had their own tricks up their sleeves. Such tactics divulge machinated to the greatest generation of grief inflicted upon their occupying Otherworlders and their traitorous Tyr Rianni kinsmen than designed to hinder rather than do any actual damage. The brick roads of the city were uprooted from the ground as the restless youths of Haringpoint turned the bricks upwards to the sky and smearing filth and refuse onto the streets that were frequented by their roaming Occupiers before disappearing into their homes.

Others attempted to flee some never heard from again, or were thrown back the whichever district they came from. Their bodies bruised and shaken as they described the Otherworlders smiting them with clubs that lashed painful shocks of lighting onto their bodies as they sadistically subdued and beaten the rebellion out of them.

To those whose despair overcame them, choose to end themselves in their own terms than damned-and-devoured by the Invaders.  Yet like the Master of the Ranch, the Otherworlders will not tolerate those cattle who shows belligerence. Even a self-inflicted death was denied. Those that tried were taken away from them to an unknown but likely terrible fate.

For those adamant souls who wished to keep hope alive, prayed to the Gods for Salvation, some of the remaining Clergy in the capital leading such prayers in secret. Below the subterranean under-city known as Kobold’s Hollow, they prayed for the Imperial Legions, the Chosen Ones, or any Divine Intervention. They keep quiet beneath their however, fewer shadows prey upon them from the safeties of their hidden chapels. Reluctantly, the Clergy had made a makeshift alliance with the under-dwelling sc.u.m that festered beneath the city from Crime Lords to Smugglers for protection.

From around Noon to Sunset, some brave souls would venture out of their homes to barter for foodstuffs. Most supplies came from the old food stocks that Haringpoint was meant to storage for a Siege but during the Evacuation, most of it was either taken by the retreating Legionnaire and Nobility. What was left were the scraps of grain, dried meats, and nuts that were easily hoarded by those with the avarice enough to secure it. Not helping the matter was the abysmal harvest that same season panging the stomachs of the Haringpoint Burghers. Oddly, there was in actuality no famine as Prince Clovich had prepared an abundant cornucopia of surplus food from Souviel and Tyr Rian to help in the short term quell the hunger problems of accommodating the Slaegian Citizenry.

“Please have some Bread brother.” A Tyr Rianni Aid Worker from the Laniyea’s Support Squadrons handed out to several of the passing bystanders who walked about at the battle-torn ruins of the once flourishing Markets near the Grand Cathedral of the Capital.

The loaf was freshly baked from an oven, made with tender-handed volunteers.

But the tempting piece of nourishment was swatted off to the grimed stone floor of the Markets by a resentful burgher. “You will not destroy us Traitor!” he spat at the Tyr Rianni to the disheartening cheers from his fellow Haringpointers.

“Destroy?” the Tyr Rianni’s cheek twitched. His head boiling red. “You Slaegians burnt my home when you took your armies and your Adventurers to Tyr Rian. For what reason? He raised his voice, pitch set to a mocking tone as his barbed tongue lashed out to the resentful Slaegian. “We are trying to show you that the Otherworlders aren’t the Demons of Old but you chose to attack us instead. If you do not wish to listen to Prince Clovich or us , then starve! Suffer like what we had done before their arrival. Then let me pass this loaf to the Slaves, the Beggars, and the Rats. At least they don’t care where their meal came from.” The Aid Worker turned the other cheek and turned away.

“The Comet! The Grandmaster told us the End Times approach and the Fall of the Empire would come.” The Slaegian yelled back.

There was resentment amongst the Laniyea and Tyr Rianni over the Slaegian Atrocities that they had inflicted on their home. A betrayal of centuries and their dogmatic stubbornness drove a wedge that split between the former subject and its master who now find themselves reversed in statuses. A mix of anger, confusion, and dismay against the Empire, made to refocus by the Clovich’s Amelioration Mandate had made them looked down upon their now insolent kin. Refusing to let go of their old ways.

“No. You have brought this on yourselves” the Aid Worker ticked his head. “The Grandmaster was a Fool. A fool to try and stop the Otherworlders. Demons or not, you brought all of the strength of the Empire upon them onto our Realm and you have lost. You can either accept Prince Clovich’s Amelioration or wait for your Emperor’s ‘Return’ that will never come.”

“They will Return. And they shall smite holy judgment for allowing these… these Otherworlders to desecrate our land!” he spat at the Laniyea Worker.

The Army man maintained his discipline, but his hand inching closer to his Electric Club was starting to become very tempting to use. However, his UFEAF Attache Commanding Officer will only let him get away with it if this hooligan attempts to physically waylay him.

“The Grandmaster? He is a fraud, a cheating fraud, a fool-hood. He cheated his way to becoming a Grandmaster of the College and murdered the rightful successor. Your Emperor? An Idiot Tyrant, your Alliance of the Light? A cabal of selfish crowns trying to hold on to a dying pup.” The Worker snarled. It was repeated proselytism from Clovich and his UFEAF Attaches of just how vile their adversary is and how determined to destroy their newfound Amelioration.

“Lies Traitor! Lies! How dare you!” the Slaegian lunged at the Aid Worker, a move that the Tyr Rianni expecting to see. With his colleagues and their Electrical Clubs, they easily subdued the troublemaking ruffian

It wasn’t the first time Humanitarian Aid was turned down by the locals, many giving dogmatic bombardments against them of how their food was ‘tainted’, that they will ‘be seduced’ into the wiles of the Demons, refusing to consider eating it and go by with scrounged morsels. Only those of desperate of rats such as the urchins, the lost and of nothing to lose, such souls who were below and above religion and politics took the food from the Tyr Rianni.

Haelioni Elussenol’s hood shielded her scarred face as she glided past the weary crowds of city folks on her way back to the Orphanage. The remaining clergy struggled to keep their charges of the 14 orphans under their care during the occupation whilst balancing the spiritual upholdings of the stubborn citizenry of Haringpoint. It was to their relief that one of their most successful discharges when one Orphan becomes of age 18, the now-former Knightess Haelioni was still alive had urged her to help the children inside the Orphanage as they know to struggle to keep them fed and not cause trouble at these trying times. Haelioni after the failed defense of the capital she was released from captivity but with all of her arms and armor confiscated by the Invaders. She walked the now battered streets of her city, seeing such familiar architecture be reduced into rubble. Nothing became the same to her anymore. But just as she was about to join the choir of the city’s weeping of their humiliation, she was chanced upon by one of the Nuns of her former Orphanage. With barely much thing to do but to try as she might do something of worthy virtue as they wait for the Legion’s liberation from the north she accepted. Sinking her once an idealized form of Justice into the equity of making those less fortunate of birth such as her be able to have a chance for the coming dark times ahead.

“I only managed to get two, two, one-week-old loaves from Ol—” Haelioni entered through the clandestine back entrance of the Orphanage behind the Cathedral. She had swallowed her breath earlier, readying to speak about the grim news that her scavenger yields produced less than favorable amounts of food for the Orphanage’s needs.

Only she was greeted by the smiles of both the Orphans and one of the sisters.

“Gods blessed us Haelioni.” Cleric Adamis smiled at Haelioni. “A kind soul today passed over us and gave us fresh bread and vegetables.”

“Another ‘blessing’ that you speak of?” Haelioni’s eyes kindled with a sliver of her old faith. “From who?”

“I did not see. The basket just lay there for us outside.” Adamis answered. “But he left us with this letter, he calls himself ‘the Father’ and he told us that his gift is for us to stand strongly for ‘the coming trials ahead.’. He even left us this holy symbol on top of the food he gives. We know it was blessed.”

Adamis reached into his pocket a thumb-sized wooden object that lay feebly on his palms. It was an upright symbol with two pieces of wood intersecting around each other. Haelioni recognized the symbol as a Shepherd’s Crook, the sacred item of one of the pantheons, the God Yher, child of Neneth, who holds dominion on Family, Love and of the Hearth. The holy symbol design was simplistic unlike the more ornate relics the Cathederal possessed but Yher’s symbol was arguably the most recognizable of the sacred items of the Gliesian Pantheon.  The God’s name was sung the most from the children’s prayers in the orphanage, being an invisible yet present force in the continued well-being of its inhabitants.

“So, the Gods haven’t abandoned us, not just yet…” Haelionni eyed the sacred emblem. “What now?” she asked.

“All we can do now is Pray child. Pray what signs may come ahead of us.” Adamis answered. His voice heaved with a hint of uncertainty. Yet the Cleric tried to maintain a buoyant aura, just for Haelionni’s sake but for the 14 Orphans under their care.

At least they could eat their fill for a while, knowing that something or someone is silently watching for their well-being. Such deprecated people such as these vulnerable souls must remain strong within their meek abode. For they now inherit the ashes of the old Empire. All they could do is stand tall within its decayed body and try to continue onwards until the Lehsol’s light shines once again unto the Slaegians once again.

Still, for Haelionni and the other remnant Clergymen, when will the darkness from this tunnel return to the light.

[-]

“3…”

In a dark room, Lutheor Mirrien stood alone. Yet even if blinded, he could still feel the weight of a thousand souls bear down onto his stocked shoulders. Today marks an end and yet a new beginning for the enterprising Dwarfen Merchant.

“2…”

A great leap forward he was about to do as he placed his hand onto a table where a red giant Seelie awaited him. His palms sweated as his hand hovered over its spheroid shape. Once he grasps it, there was no turning back for him. An old era will end, a new one shall begin for him.

“1…”

And so… he placed his hand onto the Seelie and held onto his new future.

“Let there be light!” proudly declared Governor White as the room became engulfed in brilliant luminescent light revealing before an audience whose eyes became enraptured by the great giant glass orb that hung above the room.

Like moths to a flame, they were stunned by how bright and powerful the glass orb shone to them. Gleaming like a grand jewel making its official debut after months of painstaking artisanship lay before the first Tyr Rianni Power Plant built by the Osei Corporation for the Amelioration’s budding Modernization Project. This Power Plant, powered through the might of exploiting Lehsol’s strength onto these special metal shields that generated into an unquenchable bright light. This light not only now illuminated the homes and shops of every Tyr Rianni but gave them something that they never knew they could possess, the power to fully shape their future.

Such Electrical Power was the first stepping stone to further the Amelioration’s progress. With this Power Plant working tirelessly, the Tyr Rianni can springboard their efforts to more endeavors.

Before the arrival of the Federation, Tyr Rian had to rely on the hand-crafted creation of Tallow-made Candles from Tifrait and Souviel, Oil from the Eastern Suzerainities, the enchantments of the Candlelight spell or simple wood torches. For most cases except for the Magical Spell, they were a significant fire hazard if one is so clumsy enough to set ablaze their home, and in the tightly packed Citadel of Tyr Rian spelled a disaster waiting to happen. Clovich, after his return from the Otherworlder’s Home Plane written down a step-by-step guide on how to fully modernize Tyr Rian.

First, which is already accomplished now, is to harness the power of Lehsol to provide ‘the Flameless Light’ known as Electrick-seetee. When such a marvel was first introduced, many dismissed the so-called Mana as some ‘Illusory’s Trick’, but today those doubts evaporated when the glass orb shone its angelic brilliancy down upon them. An ever-burning hearth fire able to be summoned in the palm of their hands. Crystalline clarity their eyes saw each other, every soul, every detail, and every flutter as those attendees leisured themselves amongst each other. The echoes of their revolutionary war against the Slaegians were only the softest of whispers, only discussed by those who had family or knew someone involved within Clovich’s Laniyea or llywodraeth. Most social exchanges were an infusion of the typical town gossip mixed in with whatever insane wonder the Otherworlders they had witnessed with their own eyes.

As the crowds mingle, they were attended by flight-footed servants who handed out complimentary aperitifs of crackling bread toast adorned with pasted meat, fruit, jams and/or cheeses with refreshing drinks from local and foreign favorites. Those of comfortable pockets were self-segregated into their own social circles whilst those of the Commoner Blood feasted their eyes upwards towards the glass orb their eyes singing visual poetry to forever etch into their memories. Yet despite the differences, the people of Tyr Rian could agree, this Electricity was a divine star, one as forthcoming like Geltagar’s Comet, a forthcoming of a new era.

Once the Energy is assured to Tyr Rian, the Power Plant is destined to illuminate the way forward for Prince Clovich’s Modernization Agenda. The second step is to connect Tyr Rian towards the Empire’s Core Territories and more with a grand project of newly built highways made from this new material learned and created for themselves by the Otherworlders called ‘Ass-Fault’. It had shared a few laughs amongst the Teamsters and Peasant Laborers for its silly-sounding name but this innocent black powder could ‘bring the world together’ as described by Governor White.

Once the Amelioration obtains complete mastery of Ysanigrad’s soil, the third and final phase is what will wrap the Amelioration nicely on a bow between the western Draguitoise Coast to the eastern Verden Valley is a brand-new form of Aqueducts. Typically, Water must be stored in Wells or were relied upon the movement of Aqueducts sourced from the Ostalrocs to be able to spread about from top to bottom to use in farming, sanitation, and thirst appeas.e.m.e.nt. But they remain vulnerable to acts of spoilage and were laborious to maintain even with the usage of magic. That and not everyone could be able to reach out for water for themselves, especially the peasantry and some of the Dwarfen Diaspora. But now, these new Earth-made Aqueducts or ‘Plum-lings’ can guarantee all who lives under Clovich’s realm shall never be thirsty nor never be seen unclean. Water can truly become everywhere as the books of myths spoke of Tolios assisting the Goddess Neneth in forming Gliesia from her flesh with the Water God’s blood. This marriage between Water and Life would become the bridge that allowed civilizations to flourish and become symbiotic to one another.

As Electricity creates the first torch alight to the long shadow hall, a second Jewel, one also making its debut on the Grand Opening was given its maiden appearance.

A Great Ivory Worm, its length as prideful as a Galleon sat below the luminescent glass orb at. A nativity that heralded a new age of reach for Ysanigrad. Known as the Tanchozoru Maglev Train, its royal metal carvings represented the pinnacle of the Federation’s mass-transit technologies. Made from a CSP-affiliated Zaibatsu, the Maglev boasts exceptional bullet-like speeds without having to worry about what amount of tonnage it carries behind its deceptively slender back. It can move at sub-sonic speeds to rivaling several civilian-designed aircraft using its magnetic tracks.

“It’s like a Castle in here!” smiled a Noble Lady. Inside the Tanchozoru’s sleek exterior was an equally palatial marrow. Thrones of softest cotton and windows of the clearest crystal set apart with generous spacing for passengers to make themselves at home in during their travels.

“How could it move?” one Gliesian questioned. The locomotives magnets being a curiosity amongst the erudites of Tyr Rian.

“Is it magic like Levitation? It has no wheel!” It hovered freely above its elevated yoke yet was still somewhat enchained to its will. Dumbstruck they were that to move ‘faster’ one needs to let go of such archaic contraptions such as wheels and legs.

[-]

Dr. Mahelona stood in front of Major Holyfield and Colonel Polonsky, his rotund body reduced thinly of weeks of endless diligence. But his diligence, he prayed that will work come to fruition today.

“You know Doc, you don’t have to do this? I can just ha—” Polonsky attempted to back down but he was quickly silenced by the Holyfield

“Semper Fi Marines like me would say!” Benjamin interjected. “You spoke so highly; you must learn to face it highly.”

David walked into the Testing Chamber, where one of the Major’s own Marines carried a MAR-A5 Assault Rifle fully loaded with live ammunition. Unlike previous tests, today was the day to put all of the acc.u.mulated knowledge Estsygol, ‘the Scholar’ Chosen One has to the test on his understanding of Gliesian Magicks.

Holding on his palm was a handheld device, compact enough to conceal within the pockets of his lab coat. The gizmo may be small but the Scientist embedded his heart and soul to this invention, hoping his efforts bear fruit today. For he believes the first mass-producible hand-held Kinetic Shield. Based on the magic spell of the same name, a Gliesian ‘Shield’ Spell is conjured around in a large ovoid shape that can fully protect an individual from physical harm from bullets, blows and barrages of arrows. The device on hand is still a working prototype, no more than a tinkered laser pointer modified with an Unbinillium-Actocolite Battery enchanted with Iris Cadohagan’s Runic Magicks of the Abjuration Rune of ‘Shield’.

Today is a Field Demonstration Day, many prominent scientists, lobbyists, Industrial Criteria Juries, and even an Agent De Sardet were being live-streamed an Ethernet Broadcast to witness the latest bleeding-edge of UFE Technology. Those of the more monetary of interests were all CSP-aligned Interests, this demonstration being under the shadow of secrecy, less their Privatized adversaries listen into their current machinations. The latest arrivals of three of the Kesserheim’s conniving Gang of Five: Aparo Corporation, Osei Korporasie and Maximov Engineering (with Mili-Tek and Zhuming expected to arrive in Gliesia) have caused Chairman Bousquet to worry about their interests within Gliesia. Unlike their privatized cousins, they needed to be transparent of where they would throw their money at to the Auditors. They will need something, anything innovative that would entice the Government-Holdings to steamroll the ball of much-needed financial, intellectual and material support less the Gang of Five outmaneuver them with their more liquid capabilities of lesser required transparency. Today could be the breakthrough they need.

He stood against the UFEAF Marine ten meters away. Both holding their respective tools at hand. The c.o.c.k of the MAR-A5 and the unsheathing of his shield. It glowed a brilliant cerulean field was projected across his entire body. David smiled confidently, already creating such a conjuration without having the unique ‘Wizard-Gene’ was a scientific breakthrough in itself. He could theoretically be able to project mana without being born of one of natural talent.

He bent his knees as he readies to brace, signaling the UFEAF Soldier to begin.

“Firing!” the Marine declared as he raised his Assault Rifle.

900 Rounds per minute of 5.56 x 45 millimeters of standard military ammunition unloaded upon Dr. Mahelona. The bullets struck the Scientists artificially conjured barrier, each time they impacted, the Mana Energies rippled and cause prismatic sparks to fly across the Shield but Mahelona remained unharmed. The force of each of its piercing blows still could be felt, however. Even as stubbornly as he tried to maintain his posture, for a physically below-average built man such as David, the bullets impacting his prototype were of Olympian levels worth of weights that broke his balance to pushing him away violently to the ground.

“Seizing!” the Marine yelled as he sheathed his Rifle. There were only just 4 of the 30 rounds of ammunition left on his MAR-A5’s magazine counter.

“Doctor!” Polonsky cried as he, the Marine, and Holyfield rushed to the flattened David. “Medic!” he cried for the standing-by Lifesaver to attend to them immediately.

David’s head wrung as he felt his soft-boned head concussed as Polonsky immediately looked for any wounds that the Doctor could have been struck. It was a dangerous experiment yet the daring Doctor insisted he personally test his creations even if he runs the risk of grievous injury or death. Fortunately, other than a bruise on the right side of his forehead, he was ultimately unharmed.

“Get up.” The voice in his head urged him.

Again, that same voice pushed him further, seductively it pushed onwards when most of his colleagues would have demanded respite. It was maddeningly seductive in tone. Often, he would neglect basic needs such as food and sleep until he had to be f.o.r.c.i.b.l.y made to rest for a few days. Already he lost several dozen kilograms of the fat on his body. But the thrill of discovery the more he tinkered with Unbinillium and all things Gliesian ‘fed’ him. There were talks by his own Laboratory Assistant that he has become more workaholic day by day that it began to unnerve his colleagues, not that his result-demanding Paymasters are complaining.

“Yes… Yes… did… did it worked?” Mahelona hazily worded his next sentence as he was helped up by the newly arriving Combat Lifesaver.

The group looked towards the screen where the Holographic displays of the Government Vested Interests were looking onto him.

Then one of them clapped his hands… followed by an applaud of his fellow peers.

“This… This is promising. Very promising Doctor Mahelona. Once again you have outdone yourself and exceeded all of our expectations.” the Investor lauded ecstatically. “Outside of your Shield. What else are you working on?” He asked.

“Well…” David exhaled, venting out the pain away from his recent falling. “This Shield is just an Off-branch Project that I could spin up for Demonstration to you within short notice.”

“Off-Branch? This isn’t your main project?” the Lobbyists questioned.

“Yeah, I got a Unbinillium Generator on the drawing board which in a way, this Shield is like a mini-version of it. We also got some Weapons Experimentations with Magic and a side-business of excavating and studying rare Gliesian Artifacts whatever the Troops managed to pass along to me.” David answered, gesturing to his Prototype Shield gadget.

“Have you written down a blueprint for your device already?” A Contractor asked. “Do you have plans on upscaling this Shield to not only Infantry?”

“A sure yes from me for the Blueprints and a theoretical Yes for the upscaling. I will need some more time to work on the finer details of it. But if I continue to study under Abacus I should be able to create a shield capable of protecting even a Warship from a Nuclear Blast. But for now, once I get the imperfections out of the way, this Infantry-sized shield should be good enough to withstand several shots from a full-auto .50 Caliber anything. I guess if you want to have this Shield get field-tested soon then I believe I will have to enlist a volunteer who works with an Exo-Suit all day. I mean… if my fat little legs alone can barely hold of a clip of standard fifty-six… then just imagine what someone in like a Hercules Suit could take.” Mahelona answered. “I know a few candidates.”

“How many can you make in a month with your current capabilities?” An Industrial Criteria Jury member asked.

“I guess by next month once I get the finer points across five to seven Kinetic Shields with my two Atomic-Fabricators.” He answered.

The Interests Group whispered amongst themselves. A tense sweat fell below in what seems like forever down Mahelona’s cheek. Will they or will they not bankroll his experimentation?

“If I send you over five more Fabricators? Can you bring that number up to one-thousand by the Year’s End?” a phone-wielding Lobbyist calculated.

“As soon as I can hire some Technicians for them, yes… if that’s an Order?” David bunglingly smiled.

“For those Shields. Consider those Fabricators be shipped to your Laboratory soon Doctor Mahelona. Blue-Sea’s Industries shall get your project up to speed.” The Lobbyist approved.

The other Investors nodded in agreement. This brand-new technology, Kinetic Shields can revolutionize Defense and Asset Protection. In days gone, one of the best ways to fight someone who wielded a big club is to find a bigger club or make a shield to block it. From the first evolution of weaponry now culminated to Electronic Countermeasures, Explosive Deterrents, and Nano-composite Alloys. But none had ever dared to compare against Dr. Mahelona’s Gliesian Kinetic Shield.

“T-thank you very much!” David humbly shed a tear of joy.

He was going to be set for ten lifetimes.