A GATE: and so the JSDF Fought/Alternate Timeline Fic: GATE: and so the Iron Pact Fought

Chapter One: Operation Breakthrough



In front of the Portal, Berlin side; June 8th, 2017 (T+ 3 Months) – 12:40 Berlin Time


It had been three months since the invaders had attacked the capital of one of the most successful nations in the history of mankind. It had been three months of preparation since it was decided to go onto the other side and bring those who were responsible to justice. … and now it was considered time to begin the campaign.

Even three months couldn’t heal the damage that the invaders inflicted upon the two portions of Berlin and yet, despite the ongoing reconstruction, thousands of citizens around the world assembled to see the soldiers of the First Army, Second Crops off to the lands on the other side of the Portal. Military personnel and equipment moved into spearhead formation, as the Aufklärungsabteilung on the other side had encountered elements of what appeared to be the forward vanguard of the enemy’s army.

1st Lieutenant Jeffery George ‘Old Reliable’ Patton simply sighed as he sat in the command position in his tank, a Panzer VIII Auf E Tiger III named Rommel’s Glory, as he scanned his surroundings through the numerous digital sights that he had available to him. The Tiger III’s 5-man crew -a driver, an electronics warfare specialist, a gunner, a loader, and a commander- were already chomping at the bit for justice. It was one thing to attack representatives of the Iron Pact, it was another to try sacking one of the Pact’s capitals and killed thousands in the process alongside taking four hundred and fifty people as slaves.

“Attention all units, move out!”

“Driver, crank it!” Patton ordered, “Gunner, prepare for anti-infantry combat!” The replies via the tank’s internal network resounded as the spearhead started to move forward at speed. The one thing that the crew noticed is that going through the Portal was like going through a tunnel, and at flank speed the travel time was incredibly short. Ten minutes short.

That was when the Rommel’s Glory exited the other side of the Portal, and the BATNET went absolutely nuts.

“All units, all units this is Eagle Six! Enemy vanguard inbound! Prepare for combat!” Patton’s eyes widened considerably as he recognized the voice, it was the voice of General Sigfried Forsythe… the Hero of Imamabad. To have him here is surprising to say the least.

“Understood!” Patton stated into the BATNET, “Gunner! Target, infantry; distance 1.2 clicks! 1 o’clock!”

“ON THE WAY!” Balthasar Schmidt replied as he pressed the fire peddle. The 12.8cm main gun roared as the HEP round ripped through the air and detonated three seconds later in the middle of an enemy vanguard unit, turning the formation into fine paste and debris. The nearby formations went into a panic as they saw their fellows become a fine mist and shrapnel.

That was when surprise raked the BATNET.

“This is Charlie Six-Six! Charlie Four-One just bit it! Unknown projectile!”

“Driver, haul it. Evasive!” Patton ordered as he switched his controls to use the 12.7mm HMG CROWS, “Gunner, full release on the coax.” Soon enough the 12.7mm coaxial opened up as the loader made sure that the HEP round was rammed into the main gun, followed shortly with the roof-mounted HMG. The sound of the venerable M2A4 HMGs reverberated through the tank, sending half an inch of hot lead down range and simply pasting anyone they hit.

The enemy was dying in lots; it wasn’t combat, it was outright slaughter. … and the enemy’s commander doesn’t know it yet… which is bad given that it is outright policy of the Iron Pact to not have a war turn into a genocide unless all other options were exhausted. So far, no conflict had come to that but some of the interventions got damn close like the Indian-Pakistani Wars that got Forsythe so famous.

“Sir, I think I see the bastard that got Charlie Four-One Eel-Tee,” Michel Reynolds, the EWO, remarked, “11 o’clock, 800 meters.”

“Alright, Bathasar, take him out before he decides to make havoc,” Patton ordered, firing the roof M2 at another grouping of soldiers… before seeing the man readying for another attack, “Bathasar, do it now! He’s…”

Bathasar immediately swiveled the turret and opened up with the coaxial before sending a HEP round for good measure. Unlike the other soldiers, his body had a glimmer that quickly dimmed in the withering fire, leaving the body itself mostly intact. The crew quickly made a mental note to get intelligence to pick up the body later as the slaughter continued.

The ‘battle’ -if you wanted to call it that- lasted for another half-an-hour before the enemy started to retreat. That was when the radio came to life with orders.

“This is Eagle Six… they’re retreating. Fallback to the Portal and prepare for further orders,” General Forsythe ordered over the radio. Patton ordered the driver to pull back… and the rest of the crew to prepare for a field break…

Holy Empire of Alnus Legion Camp, near Remus Hill; the next day

Legate Titus Camilius Mactator frowned as the remnants of his vanguard returned bloody and shaken. From the vanguard’s accounts, the enemy at Remus Hill -and likely Alnus Hill as well- has magic far beyond all but the most capable of battle mages or spirit wielders and has somehow been able to deploy said magic in mass. That… scared Titus. It wasn’t the fear that is uncertainty before combat. It was a more primal -barbaric!- fear, a fear unbecoming of one of the Holy Empire’s soldiers.

“Legate Mactator,” the messenger said as he kneeled before his Legate, “I’ve brought a message from Legate Tertius Granius Montanus, it reads: the legions assigned to the Holy Hill of Alnus is proceeding on schedule, they will be at the camp near Alnus by mid-day.” Tertius is probably one of the more competent Legates within the Holy Empire of Alnus with two Triumphs to his credit and his insistence on having his men ranked on merit instead of familial ties. Tetius’s primary supporter is Prince Diabo Aburius Draco, the crafty middle child of the current emperor… and a man with a complexity fetish for all of his plans.

“That’s good Messenger, now tell Tertius that things are going to plan and to prepare to go into the next phase,” Titus ordered, “If the Imperial City is to survive, then the plan must succeed.” Titus simply looked into the distance in reflection as the messenger wrote down the reply. Given that the XXIII Legion came back all but annihilated after discovering the second Gate on Remus Hill -one of the seven hills of the Holy Land of Alnus- caution and deception is the mentality of the day. The Messenger stayed so that Tertius would know which sort of plan is to be implemented, given that Titus is the lead Legate for this campaign.

Titus quickly returned to the map and frowned, the enemy was only a sixth of his own forces, but underestimation of the enemy had gotten ten Imperial Legions and his vanguard annihilated. As such, he had to think with a level head. Proper earthworks wouldn’t be setup less than a night after the first battle, even with experienced geomancers it would take days to set up a camp. As such, they’re on open ground and thus vulnerable. Even with magic, you can only sustain a defense for so long before one’s stamina runs out… however the ‘iron elephants’ complicates things.

The vanguard proved that a daylight assault was impossible, as they fought at a greater range… and given the unknown variables, a night assault might be a phyrric victory at best… a complete washout at worst. Even with their fantastical military prowess, it is incredibly unlikely that they can eliminate the auxiliary legions enough that the remnants simply go home. Half of the legions are out on the frontiers, expanding the empire and to withdraw then is to destroy whatever gains that have been made. The legions that were sent through the Gates comprised a quarter of the Empire’s strength, leaving only new recruits and the remnants of battered legions training the new recruits for the legions they will found.

That meant that if the enemy was able to get into the Empire proper, then things get ugly, fast.

That left the fact that he was caught between a rock and a hard place. The axillary legions are simply here to whittle down the enemies from the two Gates, hopefully for long enough for the Empire to rearm and start switching out some legions from the frontier back home to fight these new foes. Yet… they aren’t likely enough to do much given the information he had.

“Messenger,” Titus quickly said, causing the lowly messenger to look up, “Tell Tertius that we must assume that the best-case scenario is that all but a third of the axillary legions will be annihilated and most of them will turn to banditry. We must prepare to implement a scorched earth policy between the Holy Hills and the border of Italica Province to ensure that it is protected from the enemy and the eventual bandits. I recommend that he send his recognoscere auxiliaries to get a better picture of the enemy at Alnus.” The messenger quickly wrote it all down and sealed the scroll. “Now go, use our fastest horse if you have to.” The messenger ran as fast as he could towards the stables and left the camp on his horse.

With Titus now alone with commanders, a new line of thought started. His vanguard couldn’t get the information he needed to plan a proper assault. Most of his -and those of the auxiliary legions- men aren’t capable of recognoscere duties for the simplest reason of the lack of light-footedness -both in fleet of movement and the ability to quietly move through the lands- and willingness to simply observe. That problem limited not only Titus’s options, but also Tertius’s.

“Legate Titus,” Marcellus Gabinius Trebellius, one of Titus’s more problem-solving centric commanders, “The only recongnoscere auxiliary we have would be our Warrior Bunny century… and thanks to our idiot Prince Zorzal El Caesar, it’s a good probability that they could defect to the enemy.” Titus simply slumped his shoulders. Zorzal was probably the largest idiot within the Imperial Family, and it was only because of Emperor Molt hearing about Zorzal’s plan for the Bunny Kingdom that stopped the extermination of the Warrior Bunnies. That made any Warrior Bunny auxiliary of suspect due to that.

“It is something we have to do Marcellus,” Titus frowned, “If we don’t send them out, then we will get slaughtered. It’s one of those situations where we don’t have a decent choice of gaining a true victory… only partial victories or worse. Go tell Ilthrule that he and his Cohort are to prepare to recongnoscere the enemy and bring back intelligence on the enemy…”

Portal Patrol Zone Dora-4; June 9th, 2017 – 8:32 PM Local Time

For Unteroffizer Daniël Steenkamp and his patrol, the twilight is a nerve-wrecking time. The interface between daylight and nightfall always caused some sort of identification problems in the expanses of Africa. Between the heat differentials, lighting that is too bright for low-light vision aids but too dark for vision aids at other lighting intensities, and intelligent enemies, the twilight can be the most dangerous time for a patrol. Yet it must be done… and why various drones are used to ensure that any patrol during this time is as effective as possible.

“Unteroffizer, contacts! Looks like infantry, 2 o’clock! Distance, 400 meters!” a gefreiter by the name of Sebastian Hanekom exclaimed, “If I have to hazard a guess, looks like reconnaissance troops!”

Daniël frowned as he took his binoculars and looked into the distance, and sure enough there was several humanoid shapes in the distance. From what had can be discerned, they weren’t entirely human either, given that they look like they have rabbit ears on the top of their heads. Not that surprising given the shear absurdity of the current campaign in general. “Weapons safe, we don’t know a shit about the full situation on this side of the Portal. For all we know these unknowns are pilgrims to visit a holy site in the area,” Daniël ordered, “The local population don’t get information as fast as we do, so assume nothing until we ascertain it. Gefreite Lombard, Louw, Morkel, and Van Zyl, move up and get them ready for transport to base. If they’re civilians, we’ve just saved their asses. If they’re enemy troops, we’ve got more prisoners of war for MFI to build a picture with.”

The four Afrikaners -two women and two men- quickly dismounted and moved at a brisk pace towards the unknowns, not knowing what will happen next but prepared for practically anything…

5 Miles from Remus Hill, about the same time

Azibal frowned as the two men and two women in odd armor marched briskly towards her and her contubernium from their iron mounts. Ilthule had been specifically ordered to have the entire cohort to leave their uniforms and most of their equipment behind so Azibal’s contubernium can use the excuse of being pilgrims to the Seven Holy Hills as a cover. It also helped that most of the contuberium haven’t made their Pilgrimage of Baʿal Ḥammon yet, furthering the deception.

Yet, Azibal was practically shaking as the four humans -well they did look like humans, their armor made it incredibly hard to discern more especially so at this distance- walked towards her contuberium at a brisk pace. Azibal quickly signaled the contubernium to halt as she ran through the scenarios in her mind using what little information had been gathered… and all of them were bad to say the least.

The foreigners soon stopped at about 85 feet from the contubernium, their stances clearly on alert. Azibal frowned, wondering if the scenarios in her head would come to pass… when one of them spoke. “Attention!” the foreigner yelled in the most atrocious Sedarian that Azibal heard of, “You are in an active combat zone! State your intentions!”

That got Azibal off guard. “We’re pilgrims on our Pilgrimage of Ba’al Hammon!” Azibal answered back, “My friend and I were escorting some of our people who haven’t been on their pilgrimage yet!” Azibal prayed to all the gods she knew that they would fall for it. If they didn’t… they would probably be killed right on the spot.

One of the other foreigners took their free hand and put it against the right side of its head and acted like if it was talking to someone. It took a few minutes -and some heated debate- for a decision to be made. “Alright, you’ll be escorted to a secure area in our field quarters until the current situation is sufficiently solved,” the being ordered in it’s bad Sedarian, “Now you and your group will follow us to our vehicles. Any and all arms will be surrendered for the duration of your stay. This is non-negotiable. Am I making myself clear?”

Azibal frowned, she knew that this was an excellent chance to gain information but at the cost of being able to fight back. This is probably her only chance to get the information that the Empire needed to fight these invaders. So, she reluctantly agreed.

Fort Portal Field HQ, Thirty-Five minutes later

General Forsythe sighed as the eight locals entered his personal tent. Their bodies were more like something out of erotica than simply humans with rabbit features. It didn’t help that they were very protective of their ‘assets’ as well, thanks to the reaction that a simple pat on the back incurred (poor Hans… he got smacked rather hard for that).

Still -Forsythe reasoned with himself- despite all the situation so far, the information these locals could carry would make a little easier at the very least… even if it’s out of date. Then again, this would be the perfect opportunity to gauge possible reactions to culture and other non-military aspects to the Iron Pact; as after this battle recon teams must be deployed to chart the roads and investigate the local’s economic and political structures, investigations that would be hindered if the non-military aspects were too abrasive or too intimidating.

“Hauptmann Neumann and MPs have escorted Unteroffizer Steenkamp, his team, and eight locals. Any further orders sir?” Hauptmann Neumann said at attention.

“Hauptmann Neumann, please stay with me please,” Forsythe ordered, “Underoffizer Steenkamp, you and your team will wait outside and prepare for an oral debriefing. The MPs are to stay outside.” Forsythe knew he was taking a chance with the locals, for all he knew they might be some sort of super-human assassins that have rabbit features… but that is a chance he had to take. To reduce the obvious tension in the tent, Forsythe had everyone but Hauptmann Neumann to wait outside the tent.

“Understood sir,” Hauptmann Neumann replied, “Alright you lot! You heard the General! Move out!” The MPs and Underoffizer Steenkamp’s squad quickly hauled their butts out of the tent, leaving General Forsythe and Hauptmann Neumann alone with the locals.

“I’m sorry for any butchering of your language,” Forsythe said in a heavily accented Sedarian, “but we’ve only discovered your language three months ago and we’re still trying to make proper adjustments of our translations.” The locals understood the general well enough to get what he was saying, understanding that even their kind couldn’t translate and speak Sedarian properly for a better part of a year, and that was with Sedarian educators helping in hammering out the kinks.

“It is fine... Legate Forsythe,” the lead local said, butchering Forsythe a bit given the differences between Germanic and Romantic language families, “My name is Azibal and my people are known as the Warrior Bunnies. My partner and I were escorting our six younger hutch-mates to visit the Holy Hills of Alnus for their pilgrimage of Ba’al Hammon.” Azibal noted that Forsythe rose an eyebrow on Ba’al Hammon. “We had heard that bandits on the roads to the Holy Hills were particularly bad this year, so we prepared for the worst. The incense we’ve brought costs a fortune and is required for several ceremonies that can only be carried out on the Holy Hills.”

“Ah,” Forsythe nodded in understanding, “I’m sorry that we’ve interrupted your pilgrimage… because, as you can see, we’re at war with one of the local powers.” The eight Warrior Bunnies sighed at that bit of information, like if this was a common occurrence. “I see that this sort of news isn’t uncommon here Ms. Azibal.”

“It isn’t,” Azibal answered, “The Holy Empire of Alnus tends to wage war across not only the continent but also the seas to forever expand their empire. Our people were conquered barely a decade and a half ago in a brutal war of conquest. Our people were almost exterminated by the forces of Prince Zorzal El Caesar, if it wasn’t for his father Emperor Augustus leaving a few of his trusted men in Zorzal’s army with explicit orders to ensure that is army was to subjugate our lands… there wouldn’t be much left of our species.”

Forsythe frowned as he and Hauptmann Neumann put the names of Zorzal El Caesar and Augustus in the back of their minds for future reference. “I would take it that the Holy Empire of Alnus is rather expansive?” Hauptmann Neumann asked politely.

“It is,” Azibal said as she answered Hauptmann Neumann’s question, “The Holy Empire of Alnus dominates the entire continent and has set its sights across the oceans to other lands. I’ve heard that before the Empire set its sights on our lands, they tried to invade a continent across the western ocean despite the dangers. All they got was a simple foothold on a mountainous island off the coast of the other continent by the end of it. The species there aren’t the sort to be trifled with, especially with their religion-all-but-in-name on friendship of all things.” Hauptmann Neumann and General Forsythe digested the information that Azibal was telling them. If someone on the other side of this ‘western ocean’ can fight off the Empire, then it might be a good ally -or group of allies- in the future.

That was when Hauptmann Neumann and Forsythe recognized the sound of the 17cm heavy howitzers, a sound that scared several years off the assembled locals.

“What is happening?” Forsythe asked as he grabbed his radio.

“Enemy attack! We’re looking at an attacking force some 500 thousand strong! The artillery batteries are getting fire missions non-stop and the barrages aren’t stopping them! Even the star shells aren’t having an effect!”

“Understood, sound the alarm and prepare for combat,” Forsythe ordered, “Hauptmann Neumann, you and the MPs are to get going and get these locals to the bunker and keep them there!” Hauptmann Neumann simply replied ‘Jawohl’ and quickly got the MPs together and escorted the locals out…

Chapter 2: Calm before the Storm
Sedaria, Capital of the Holy Empire of Alnus – Senate Chambers; 2457939.5 of the Ancestral Calendar or 5th of Quintilis of the Year 6729 of the Reformation Calendar


Emperor Malt Sol Augustus shook his head as the entire Senate went up in arms as Legates Titus and Tertis debriefed everyone on the events of Holy Province of Alnus. The second half of the assembled auxiliary legions foolishly deciding to simply go ahead and attack at twilight and getting outright butchered by weapons that outstripped the Empire’s by numerous orders of magnitude while -despite having better guile and intelligence- the first half was annihilated in three encounters with the second enemy, with the third attempt being a literal textbook night assault with similar weapons that butchered the second group.



For Emperor Augustus, this was a mere formality as he already had been debriefed. While no one knew it, these two enemies had rocked him to his core. The shear military strength that was described by the legates was mind numbingly impressive. Literal orders of magnitude more than all but the most powerful of combat mages like Cato El Altestan and Grand Magus Tiberius Nasennius Calpurnianus. All the while being capable of smiting legions from beyond visual range. While he had used the enemy as a way to ensure that the Holy Empire of Alnus wouldn’t be taken by its various vassals, elector states, and tributaries… it didn’t douse his fears.



“… and that concludes our report on the invaders,” Tertis said with finality, “At this time we believe that the crisis the Empire faces is the greatest one and outstrips any crisis that our ancestors have faced. Legate Titus and I have already ceased the initiative and stripped the towns and villages along the roads to Italica of anything of value and have escorted the citizens to villages on the border. All of the forts on the border of the Holy Province of Alnus have been alerted to the fact that the enemy might start moving forward in the days ahead.” The senate was in an uproar. The towns and villages on the roads towards the Seven Hills of Alnus were a major supplier of tax income for the Empire via the pilgrimages that all walks of life take at least once in their lives. That would take a massive chunk out of the tax income of the empire, thus relying more heavily on the tributes that have breed immense resentment towards the ruling state of Sedaria. Not only that, four legions that the Empire can ill afford were completely lost to these new enemies.



Now with the fact that the quickly assembled forces of the various kingdoms, duchies, and principalities annihilated by these new enemies, the prospects of turning this around is grim. Soon a senator waved to have his piece.



“Titus, you said that one of the few combat mages went with your vanguard towards Remus Hill. From what the few remnants of that vanguard said, he was able to destroy one of the invader’s ‘iron elephants’,” one of the hawkish senators stated, “That means these invaders can be fought and killed!” Senator Marquess Casel simply frowned at that fallacious statement. How are the combat mages -rare as they are- going to get into range when the enemy can simply kill them at a distance despite their shields? This is on top of how the Empire is going to convince the Council of Colleges and its Grand Magus to side with the Empire when Malt’s predecessor tried to weaken their political power… which almost ignited a civil war. Casel quickly waved to challenge the hawkish senator’s statement.



“Senator Marcus Cantilius Tasius,” Marquess Casel said as he began his rebuttal, “can you tell the Senate on how you are to accomplish the herculean task of persuading the Council of Colleges and its Grand Magus to side with us when the history between the Empire and the Council of Colleges is rife with the Empire trying to screw the Council over? How are you going to get the mages into range where they can use their mystical arts to defeat the enemy?” Many senators were in awe of Senator Marquess Casel rebuttal’s opening barrage. Marcus Cantilius Tasius is one of the major leaders of the ‘warhawk’ faction. He had previously served thirty years as an Imperial Legion Legate and fought numerous campaigns. In his experience, there is no such thing as an invincible enemy. Marcus represented the more fanatical portion of the faction, where fanaticism was more abundant than sense. While Marcus held great power within the warhawk faction, it was Cicero La Moltose that commanded the faction. Cicero is well known for his analytical mind, his own impressive combat and leadership record, his truthfulness, and cool head.



Marcus Cantilius Tasius stood there, shocked that someone would give him facts that were also questions. Marcus’s hands quickly became fists as anger smoldered within him. Marcus was about to give his rebuttal when his superior Cicero La Moltose put his hand on Marcus’s shoulders. “Senator Casel has got you by the throat Tasius,” Cicero whispered, “you better stop while you’re ahead or he’ll tear your ass off in the debates.” Tasius was now fuming in rage, as even his fellow faction leader was holding back instead of going to the fight. But then again, there is a good reason that Cicero the Yielder was the primary leader of the faction and not Tasius himself. “Wait for Casel and his faction to make a mistake before we strike. What we need here is a plan, not words.”



The rest of the session went on with fruitless debate between the numerous factions within the Senate, trying to make a compromise for action against the new enemies that the Holy Empire has made…

The Imperial Chambers, the Imperial Palace; a few hours later


Emperor Malt Sol Augustus snickered a little in front of his ‘advisor’ Count Marcus at the ineptitude that the Senate got itself into. The ploy that he had for the Senate was working almost perfectly. The Senate’s many factions are still bickering about on what to do -thus weakening their prestige- with little effort on his part. It was almost too easy!



“Sir, with the Senate currently in disarray, what are we going to do about the enemies on the Holy Hills of Alnus and Remus?” Marcus asked, as it was his duty to effectively question every action Malt takes and every policy that he implements, “Given the few experiences we’ve had with these new enemies, the forts aren’t going to hold them off for long if they decide to break out.” Malt had to give it to Marcus, he always asked the hard questions and thus why he was advisor and not anyone else. Anyone who went for the job didn’t ask those sorts of questions outright, Marcus did. If his scheming is the price to pay for that sort of intelligence and spine, then so be it.



“Of course,” Malt answered in fake reignition, “If we can’t fight against an enemy that is orders of magnitude more capable than us militarily, then we must use the strategies that the ancestral Dictator Quintus Fabius Maximus Verrucosus used against the forces of the Hannibal Barca. We must ensure that their supply lines are disrupted outside of the Gates, that their forces are bogged down in needless skirmishes. Attack them where they are weak to weaken where they are strong. Ensure that our forces never go for a pitched battle that would certainly annihilate our forces outright.” The Fabian Stratagems had become the go-to method for the Empire against forces stronger than what it’s military can handle, and its repertoire both from the times of Sadera’s ancestors to the present day is as extensive as its use. It only failed once however, but then again Equestria is an oddball among the nations on this world.



“If the Fabian Stratagems fail to weaken the enemy?” Marcus asked flatly. Marcus isn’t an idiot. The Fabian Stratagems have failed once, it isn’t outside the realm of possibility that they can fail again. Given that there is so little information on these enemies and their mentality, if the Fabian Stratagems fail then it might be disastrous for the empire. Given Marcus’s position within the Empire, if he didn’t die in the fighting first he would be one of the first to be executed after the conquest.



“Then, and only then, we make peace,” Malt answered, “It is foolish to simply waste time and resources to keep throwing men to fight an enemy that the Empire can’t fight. We both know that we can’t convince the Council of Colleges to fight with us, given that the current and previous Grand Magus are avowed neutrals and most of the mages and practitioners of the mystic arts are more interested in finding the secrets of the universe than fighting.” Malt might be a warhawk, but unlike the clear majority of them he knew when to fold. Then there is the fact that he had taken illegal action against both enemies, the Senate will have his head and force him to abdicate and force an Imperial Election among his remaining heirs. While Zorzal El Caesar would be the one that can be easily controlled but he is just as likely to ignore all advice if his ego is charged enough which is more common than not thanks to Zorzal’s slave Tyuule, who has him by his dick. Diabo Aburius Draco would be useless for the Senate as he couldn’t be controlled. That left the youngest daughter, Piña Co Lada, as the likely prospect as she had a strong sense of common sense with an incredibly uncanny intelligence… yet the problem with her is that she is far too honorable and thus unsuited for Senatorial politics.



That was when the doors into the Imperial Chambers flew open, showing Piña Co Lada and a duo of her Pretorian Guard. The Knights of the Rose is a cohort-sized force of mounted infantry and knights, and she had been clamoring to gain experience in the field of battle. She probably heard from her own sources about Alnus and Remus Hills being taken by a new enemy of the empire. This represents an opportunity in Malt’s mind, as he could get multiple birds with one stone; not only he could give Piña some much-needed combat experience, but he can force her to bend her honor far more than she would otherwise. A comprehensive plan quickly formed in Malt’s mind as Piña told him off…

The Business Estate of Marquess Casel, around the same time


Senator Marquess Casel sat as the numerous servants maneuvered through the crowded business hall of the minor estate just outside Sedaria. The entirety of the Senatorial and Electoral classes had these incredibly small estates for various political purposes, particularly to have a somewhat private location to relax between after a day in the Senate during a session -which usually last a month- and do closed door politicking. It is in estates like these that some of the greatest reforms and compromises were made, where fanatics within the myriad of factions that make up the complex politics of the Senate can’t interfere.



Casel had convened the ‘Dove’ faction’s -which included senators from other factions like the Mercantiles and the Liberals- leadership to his estate for one purpose, to get a foundation for a compromise. That isn’t the only problem either, as Casel’s spies had heard rumors that the legions sent through the two Gates have turned captives -over 450 of them- into illegal slaves. While the Legates that would have done the deed would likely be dead alongside practically the entire legion, the rumor had indicated that Malt had some hand in the process. But this information was only rumor and nothing solid.



“Senator Casel,” Senator Placus Albatius Carius spoke, “I have talked to my fellows within the Mercantiles and the situation isn’t good.” Casel’s face was mired by a frown by that statement, as a bad situation within the Mercantiles is a particularly bad thing to hear. “The Mercantile leadership had a meeting, and most of the faction vowed to stay neutral as war and peace is too costly for them both in political and economic currency in their minds, and said majority are going to abstain from anything that our faction and the warhawks would come up with.” Now that is catastrophic, the Mercantiles are a powerful faction within the Senate since they effectively formed a core component within the Imperial economy. Since the peace has gotten them far richer than the war with the Warrior Bunnies, they had sided with the Dove faction frequently. To have them effectively back out of both the Warhawks and the Doves is unprecedented, and only signaled for bad times ahead. Given that the ‘Infrastructure’ faction -so named due to their fetish-all-but-in-name for infrastructure projects (particularly highways, ports, waterways, and the postal service), a fetish that, while strange, is a better one to have as it always improved economic productivity in one way or another- is closely aligned with the Mercantiles, that means their support with the Doves would vanish as well… leaving the Doves and the Warhawks with very few friends in general.



“Oh, you’ve got to be kidding me!” exclaimed Senator Proculus Sergius Constantius in a harsh tone, “Their support is the key to many of our compromises! If they’ve backed out, that means things are going to be outright impossible to create a compromise.” Everyone then started to feel a headache to come on. “… and that means things won’t get done and the Senate’s prestige takes a massive hit.” Everyone in the room shook their heads as the reality of the situation settled in.



“Everyone feels the same way as you do Senator Constantius,” Senator Carius sighed in agreement, “and with the fact that it is clear Emperor Malt is up to something, I fear that right now we’re going to have problems in the future.” Everyone agreed with that statement without reservation. Even then, nothing known is known about these new enemies. All the information given was how destructive their incredibly long-ranged weapons are. Nothing about their culture, in-depth methods of warfare, their language, their understanding of the universe… and that presented a problem.



That was when everything was interrupted by a runner -a warrior bunny by the name of Amotmilqart- that is the favorite of Constantius.



“I think we’re going to have a problem solve itself,” Constantius foxily -almost kitsune-like- smiled as he read the message, “One of my informants within the Order of the Roses has been told that the Order in its entirety have been given a mission by the Emperor himself. That mission, to gain intelligence on the new enemies of the Empire.” Everyone in the room wasn’t that surprised at the Emperor sending someone out, but what surprised everyone is the fact that he was sending his daughter Piña Co Lada and her order to do it. For the most part the Order of the Roses had been basically a bunch of ceremonial knights that occasionally went out to settle disputes or support garrisoned legions against bandits. She is well known to be able to keep a cool head in negotiations and forge a fair deal for everyone. Her combat prowess is lackluster at best, but then again, her Order hadn’t been in combat all that much.



“Now that is interesting,” Casel smiled mischievously, “I think the Gods are throwing a bone our way ladies and gentlemen.” The senators in the room couldn’t agree more…

Alpine Judal Province, Judal Mining County; 9th of Quintilis of the Year 6729


The Judal Mining County is one of the most important mining-focused areas in the core of the Holy Empire of Alnus. Not only does it produce 20% of the Empire’s coal, it also produced significant percentages of copper, tin, iron, lead, asbestos, talc, gold, silver, and various stones. All of these are used for a variety of economic and military applications.



The Judal Mining County is also one of the largest consumers of slave labor. Over a quarter of the Empire’s slaves work here, mostly in the mines or in the terraced fields that supply the county with food. As a slave-heavy province in the Empire, the garrison was double-strength compared to most of the empire just in case a slave revolt happened, which is rare but occasionally happens.



Kirishima Hiroki is one of 425 slaves that were bought in a slave auction three months ago. Hiroki had gotten to know 419 others during the time he -quite literally- slaved away in the mines. Most of them were from, much to his surprise, a world much like his own but vastly different. That was when he met one Viktor Reznov.



Viktor Reznov had told Hiroki that he was captured during his yearly trip to Berlin to take part in the celebrations, as his great grandfather took part in what his world knew as the ‘Great War of Resistance’, a war that was spurred by the British and French levying horrific terms for Versailles. Viktor would tell Hiroki about the stories of men that would have become monsters in his history become genuine heroes in Viktor’s. How Hitler and his motley crew of Germans, Jews, Poles, and more made daring raids and epic gambles to stem the tide of the British and French soldiers. How Kaiser Wilhelm the Second -later known as ‘Wilhelm the Flawed’- found his inner Prussian Spirit and led Germany to survival before backing down and installing his son Fredrick the Seventh as Kaiser. How the German Askari did the impossible and stopped the Sikhs cold at the Siege of Cologne.



It was thanks to Viktor that Hiroki had lived this long in the mines… and Viktor had a plan. He had distilled this plan into a series of simple steps and it spread through the camps like the whispering wind. Most of the slaves here were simply processed conquests sold to make an extra bit of money and thus they had no loyalty to the slave owners and had an immense thirst for freedom. Viktor and his small group of planners knew how fast a modern military can move when there isn’t a logistical base for their operations and had planned for this moment.



Given Viktor’s knowledge of the Iron Pact’s doctrine, he knew that the plan had to be implemented today as the recon flights would start coming out in force while everything else was ready. From there, it would be easy for the Iron Pact to send an air mobile company or two to secure and extract the slaves in the slave slums. All that must happen now is the ‘signal’… and that is where Sergei would come in. Sergei is a large -if you consider being slightly over two meters simply large- man and he had a voice that could carry for miles. It is that voice that would be the initiator for the revolt.



One of the key parts of the plan is to keep the illusion that things are normal, to lull the overseers into a sense of false security. That is why for the last few weeks Viktor had rotated the lead singer for the ‘signal’, to make it a normalcy. What the overseers didn’t know is the fact that Sergei is going to be the lead singer, and that would signal the revolt.



“Ey ukhnyem!” Sergei began, “Ey ukhnyem! Yeshtsho razik, yeshtsho da ras!” Hiroki had to admit, the Song of the Volga Boatmen is an ingenious idea. Given the history behind the shanty, it would be easily mistaken for something sung by slaves; a perception that has been cultivated and exploited for the Plan. The overseers simply shrugged off their unsettling shivers up their spine and simply let their guard down, ignoring the more observant part of their minds screaming that something’s up.



For four minutes, the song went, and at the end, Viktor and his partners howled “Now comrades! Time to retake our freedom! Time for Step 1!” while the slaves replied with “Ascend from the Darkness!” The entire mine became a scene of pure pandemonium as slaves slaughtered their overseers with little remorse, with a handful of overseers simply getting knocked out and dragged out of the mines for their leniency. The ‘leniency’ being enough harm simply let them have a way out when the Empire comes down like a hammer from god. Outside the mines, giant slingshots were being set up and carefully prepared bottles of lamp oil were being brought out into the open and shot across the slums into guard towers located all over the compound, engulfing whatever they touched in flame. The slaves poured out of the slums, killing any slave overseer or owner they could grab that perpetuated the sordid conditions that they had to live in. The handful of overseers and owners that tried to treat the slaves with some decency were quickly rounded up, knocked out, and tied up.



That was when Hiroki found a spyglass lying on the ground and decided to look at the sky, hoping that they still had time before the slaves would reveal the message painted onto the roofs of the slums. That was when Hiroki saw an aircraft that looked like it was straight out of World War 2. At the altitude its at, the aircraft would be only a dot in the sky and thus requiring the aid of the spyglass. “Viktor!” Hiroki exclaimed as he ran towards Viktor, “I spotted a plane coming in!” Viktor quickly finished off the bodyguard that he was brutalizing and took the spyglass out of Hiroki’s hand and looked for himself.



“They’re early!” Viktor exclaimed as he pulled a male Equestrian to his side, “Golden Flash, get word to the slums, tell them that we must go forward with signaling the sky now!” The Equestrian simply nodded and moved at speeds that would make an Olympian green with jealousy. The only hope for escape now lied on Golden Flash to get to the slums in time…

Low-Intensity Recon Flight 008, 3,000 meters above Sea Level – 250 kilometers North, North West of Fort Portal; Ten Minutes Later


Leutnant Brötzmann looked at the camera screens of the modernized model of the ancient Folke-Wulf Uhu observation plane with surprise. Her copilot, Kadett Hecher, was already going through the aircraft’s computers to make a match with what he was seeing. For about 100 kilometers around the hills that the Iron Pact’s beachhead was located there was only abandoned villages and stripped fields. That changed when they got to the edge of the shield mountain range that surrounded three corners of area known as the ‘Holy Hills of Alnus’, and that is when valuable intel opportunities started to show up like clockwork.



Imperial forts, major towns and cities, and more became the focus in the recon flight, and thus gave basic intelligence for the major operations to come. Yet what the two pilots were seeing were far from the ordinary.



“I got a match on the computer Leutnant,” Hecher answered, “It’s old Spetznaz code for airlift evacuation for 650 people.” Brötzmann was confused with that answer. “Didn’t high command state that a retired Spetznaz officer was among the missing?” Brötzmann thought for a moment, trying to remember the intelligence that was given before this flight.



“Don’t quite remember, but this definitively merits investigation. Get General Forsythe on the horn and send the data through,” Brötzmann ordered, “We’ll go and orbit the area to show them we’ve seen the signal.”



“FIRF-008 to Base, FIRF-008 to Base; we’ve got a signal indicating a need for helicopter extraction for 650 people. Please advise,” Hecher said over the radio.



“Base to FIRF-008, say again?”



“FIRF-008 to Base, we’ve got a signal indicating a need for helicopter extraction for 650 people. The signal is a bit rough, but it looks like an older Spetznaz signal,” Hecher answered, “Computer confirms it with a 95% probability.”



“Base to FIRF-008, understood. Luftaufklärungstruppe is being sent to confirm and defend.”



“FIRF-008 to Base, can confirm Luftaufklärungstruppe will be in transit to confirm. Request permission to orbit the area to ensure signaler has confirmation of possible evac?” Hecher asked.



“Base to FIRF-008, request for orbit granted. ETA on Luftaufklärungstruppe with initial wave of transports, seven-fiver mikes.”



“FIRF-008 to Base; understood, going into orbit pattern, going to 1,500 meters,” Hecher replied, “Once the Luftaufklärungstruppe lands we’ll return to mission.” Soon the radio was cut off and Hecher sighed.



“Going into orbit pattern and lowering altitude,” Brötzmann said, “Today is simply one of those ‘starts wonderful, then goes weird’ days.” Brötzmann was not alone in that line of thought as he put in the new course into the flight computer. “Set the camera into standby mode Hecher. Better we save the hard drive space for intelligence right now, not some gore fest.”



Hecher simply agreed…

A large park-like area, 75 minutes later


For the last 75 minutes the various local slaves looked at the Uhu-looking aircraft with apt curiosity, as they never saw anything like it before. The slaves that were brought from Viktor’s reality quickly cheered in joy and excitement as they now knew that they were saved as they recognize the aircraft as a Folke-Wulf 320 twin-boomed turbo-prop COIN recon aircraft. The few slaves from Hikori’s reality simply sat there, puzzled at the sight. Viktor had long given the spyglass to Hikori and told him to keep a watch for the helicopters that would come soon.



When Hikori looked through the spyglass for the twelfth time in the last hour, he saw helicopters with the oddest rotor configuration alongside more conventional models. “Viktor! I see helicopters coming in!” Hikori exclaimed, “Looks like a bunch of attack helicopters with some transports…”



“See my friends? I told you we all get out of here!” Viktor said with joy as the first helicopter unloaded six soldiers in uniforms that Hiroki couldn’t recognize, “Now we must prepare for our trip to freedom.” The enslaved masses simply cheered as freedom is at hand.



“I assume that you’re the leader of this slave rebellion?” the lead soldier asked Viktor.



“I am,” Viktor said, “I’m Viktor Reznov, former captain of the 1st Spetznaz Brigade.” The soldiers gasped in surprise. “I’ve got 415 multinationals from our world, 10 multinationals from a world like ours, and 225 enslaved persons from across this world needing extraction and medical attention.”



The soldiers looked around and saw the 650 people who are anxious to escape from their servitude. That was when the lead soldier spoke into his helmet. After a short conversation, the soldier quickly spoke the good news. “Alright listen up!” the officer said in Saderian, “My name is Đỗ Hoàng Long, rank Captain. For those not from my world, I work for an alliance of nations known as the Iron Pact and my superior officer General Forsythe has agreed to grant you political and economic asylum. Larger metal birds will be landing here shortly. You will follow every instruction that the crews of these metal birds give you. We have to move fast and efficiently if we are to get out of here by day’s end.” Then Đỗ Hoàng Long switched to English. “Everyone else, follow procedure and we’ll get you all out of this hellhole in a timely manner. Now, group up into groups of 55 and we’ll get started once the first helicopters set down!”



That was when Hiroki heard an odd and distinctive rotor noise as helicopters with the oddest rotor configuration maneuvered to land. The helicopters in question are Chinook sized helicopters and looked like they had seats for 55 people. There was a gunner with what looked like a futurized heavy machinegun at the rear door while two gunners looked out the side doors with more futurized heavy machineguns on door mounts. That is when a crewmember came out and said in English and Saderian, “I want two columns of people coming from the rear. You are not to enter from the sides or you will get obliterated by the blades. Once we’re full, we’ll lift off and head to our base of operations on Remus Hill. This will be a seventy-five-minute journey. Once there, you will exit through the rear in an orderly fashion. From there you will be processed by doctors for any injuries and diseases and by book keepers to track everyone. First group, move in!”



Thus, began the long process of a heliborne evacuation.

Fort Portal, Barracks Section; July 10th, 2017


“Feeling alright Azibal?” Centurion Neumann asked in Saderian as the duo walked through the slowly evolving streets of the fort, “You’re a bit jumpy as of late.” Azibal had felt unease ever since things started to slow down around the fortification that is ‘Fort Portal’. The Empire’s Legions are required to maintain their incredibly stoic disposition as emotion in battle is a weakness that can be easily exploited. Yet the ‘Iron Pact’ and its legions were quite open with their emotions, and that usually ended with attempted rape for her and her fellow Warrior Bunnies. The Empire’s Legions punish those who attempted -the Divines forbid if committed- rape of another legion member -be genuine legionaries, and thus citizens, or the auxiliaries- with crucifixion and stoning.



“I’m… a little hungry,” Azibal lied slightly… before her stomach decided to butt in, “when is dinner?” Centurion Neumann simply raised his eyebrow. Another thing that made Azibal feel uneasy is the fact that Centurion Neumann is immensely different to anyone she has ever met. If she had to sum it up in one phrase, it would be ‘a walking contradiction’. While he prefers to be quiet and somewhat anti-social, he can be in the center of attention of moderate spans of time. He might not understand emotions, yet he can sense them rather easily. Then there is this feeling with him, a feeling that only the former Elector and Count Reginald Formal and his daughter -now Elector and Countess- Myui could produce. A feeling of calm and ease that is virtually unexplainable. Unlike those two, however, Centurion Neumann’s ability can reach further than the two nobles… and this scared Azibal to her core.



“Ah,” Centurion Neumann answered in Saderian as he looked at the device he called a ‘Wrist Computer’, “we’re a bit late for dinner, aren’t we?” Azibal simply nodded with a sigh. “Well then, off to the canteen!” The only good thing being paired with Centurion Neumann was the fact that he understood what she meant when she said dinner during what the Iron Pact called ‘lunch’. With a good tug, Centurion Neumann led Azibal towards the ‘canteen’.



The structure that the ‘canteen’ resided in is a sturdy but quickly-erected structure. From what Azibal could understand, this is a prebuilt or ‘prefabricated’ building and it is used by temporary forts called ‘firebases’ across their world. Once inside, she noted the vast array of incredible smells that captivated her nose. Azibal quickly became flabbergasted at both the vast quantity and quality of the foods arrayed before her. Slabs of beef, pork, seafood, and poultry that had to come from animals at least twice the size of those in the Empire, with species that she never had heard or seen before to boot.



In the face of such wonderful foods, Azibal decided to try a little of everything. When she saw Centurion Neumann putting giant helpings of beef -called ‘sirloin steak’- with large helpings of mashed ‘potatoes’ -which had been explained to her as a starchy plant that grew underground and can be planted pretty much everywhere- and two large corn cobs, she simply balked in disbelief.



“Centurion Neumann,” Azibal asked, “Isn’t that a bit much?” She still couldn’t believe what she was seeing at that moment. “I mean is that your daily allowance?” Azibal couldn’t keep her eyes off the massive serving of food.



“Not really,” Centurion Neumann answered, “this is actually a bit light for me.” Azibal could barely keep her tray from falling onto the floor. “Then again, I have a higher calorie intake than the average person anyway thanks to my implants.” Azibal shivered at the comment, she had accidentally walked into Centurion Neumann’s room when he was servicing his limbs. To say that there was hysteria on her part would be an understatement. Azibal simply nodded as they went towards the drink counter.



The array of drinks was simply astounding. What looked like beer flowed rather freely alongside more exotic drinks. What surprised Azibal was the fact that he went for a drink called ‘gourmet soda’, specifically of the ‘orange cream’ variety. Azibal raised an eyebrow at the oddity, as many of the soldiers were drinking large mugs of beer.



“So, Centurion Neumann,” Azibal began, “Why aren’t you drinking the beer like the rest of your legion-mates?” Centurion Neumann raised an eyebrow in return at that question like if it was a stupid question.



“Because Frau Azibal,” Centurion Neumann answered, “I’m equipped with augmentations that can cause a lot of damage… and the last time that I was anything remotely considered ‘hammered’ is when my parents got me into the hospital for a cranial scan. The aftermath of which caused everyone to agree that I really shouldn’t drink.” Azibal saw Centurion Neumann visibly shiver at a few memories. “Despite being a ‘heavyweight’, if I get drunk property generally gets damaged in the process. The last time I seriously drank was back when I was twenty, caused a lot of property damage because someone forced me into a drinking contest.”



“Ah,” Azibal replied solemnly, “That’s… insightful.” Azibal knew of species of demi-humans that can be unstable with alcohol, with some more than others. Centurion Neumann appeared to be of the nastier end of this instability. That was when a loud exclamation came from behind her.



“Hauptmann Neumann!” exclaimed the man with very dark skin with a hearty laugh, “It has been too long!” The man in question is probably the tallest that Azibal has ever encountered -Azibal estimated him to be a good six and a half feet tall- and made the most trained and exercise-happy legionary look like they only did the bare minimum. The uniform that the man -and his compatriots- wore is the standard casual uniform -fatigues Centurion Neumann called them- but the symbol on the side was completely different from the rest of the legion here on Remus Hill.



“Wait, Gerhardus Van Schalkwyk, is that you?” Centurion Neumann asked in his native tongue, “By God it is you!” Centurion Neumann quickly set his tray down and hugged the man. That was when Gerhardus saw Azibal.



“You haven’t changed a bit Hauptmann!” Gerhardus exclaimed as he laughed yet again, “Still escorting the cute ones! Those ears of hers are so damn adorable that I just want to pet them all day! … and I see that you’ve got an ‘Aaron sized’ serving already to go.” Azibal tilted her head a little at the shear absurdity of the situation. Normally those of the darker skin tones are treated somewhat poorly, particularly due to the nations that they’ve come form were rather formidable opponents a few centuries prior. Yet here Centurion Neumann and ‘Gerhardus’ are chatting with each other like old friends.



“Ah, you know me Gerhardus,” Centurion Neumann replied, “My luck can be schizophrenic as fuck. It’s always these assignments where you have to help me get everyone else’s asses out of the fire. Oh, Gerhardus, this is Azibal. She’s a local called a ‘Warrior Bunny’, and don’t let the name full you, she’s damn good in close quarters combat.” That was when Centurion Neumann switched back to Sedarian. “Azibal, this is Gerhardus Van Schalkwyk, Huptmann of the 10th Armored Infantry Company of the 5th Afrika Corps… better known as Lottow-Vorbeck’s Own. He and I served together on and off for five years. The only unaugmented person that I know that can rival my strength.”



“Nice to meet you Azibal,” Gerhardus said Sedarian in a very thick accent as he extended his hand, “Few people can get Hauptmann Neumann here a good workout in close quarters ever since he was taken in by Big Boss back in Boot Camp.” Azibal shook Gerhardus’s hands as she rose her eyebrow at the words ‘Big Boss’, the way it was spoken indicated that this was a person of significance.



“Now cut it Gerhardus,” Centurion Neumann laughed, “I simply impressed him during Boot. Nothing more, nothing less. Now, get some chow and let’s get a table...”

Dining Area, Canteen


“… and then Aaron comes in and does a textbook perfect rendition of CQC that I’ve ever seen on the White Hat militant, knocking him out. The President of the Baghdad Confederation had been saved and we all went home with all limbs intact,” Gerhardus said as he ended the story, “She even gave Aaron here a sweet kiss on the cheeks when we got back to Baghdad! Half the platoon was jealous of him for weeks after that!” Azibal simply sat there, slowly eating her meal in awe as she listened to Gerhardus’s story during a mission in the Baghdad Confederation.



“Eh, once Big Boss heard of me doing that,” Aaron shrugged, “he immediately asked me to spar with him. A good five minutes later, he tells me that I was actually good.” Gerhardus and Azibal were rapt with attention at this. “Then he says, ‘Damn son, you’ve gotten damn good.’ Afterwards I got more training from him. It’s like he was training me to replace him or something.” Gerhardus simply sat there in awe, his mouth gaping open.



“Aaron, you are one lucky son of a bitch!” Gerhardus exclaimed as he playfully punched Aaron’s cybernetic shoulder, “Big Boss has been looking for someone to carry the torch for years if the rumor mill is any indication.” Azibal eyes widened at the implications. “It looks like that old war hound has finally found his successor… and from a Junker family no less. You must have impressed him if he thought you were worthy becoming the next Boss.”



“Um… can someone explain this ‘Big Boss’ person?” Azibal asked intently, “From what I’ve been hearing, ‘Big Boss’ is a pretty big deal.” Azibal began taking mental notes as she was still gathering intelligence, if only to tell the Empire how screwed it is at this point.



“Boss can be something of a title back on our world,” Aaron began to explain, “In the context of the special forces, the Boss title is for those who are the cream of the crop -the best of the best of the best as it were- of special forces operatives. Boss in that context stated showing up in the early 1950s when a Chinese woman by the name of Zhong Nuan expanded the foundations of modern special operations. People within the Special Forces community started to call her ‘Boss’, and her fighting style -CQC- started to become widely taught within the special forces across the Iron Pact with the Comintern learning by shear osmosis. She became The Boss after she found a successor in the current Boss, Big Boss. Last I’ve heard she died peacefully in her home of old age back in the late ‘80s. Big Boss is an American, and he is a legend before he took The Boss’s mantle.” Aaron mentally frowned, as he remembered what Big Boss had said to him a few months ago. Whether he likes it or not, Aaron was going to be the next Boss. Big Boss is simply waiting until Aaron was more ‘seasoned’ before making him Boss.



“Yeah, and Big Boss is the sort of man you want as your friend, but not as your enemy,” Gerhardus continued, “My father worked with him once a long time ago in Afghanistan where he worked with Ahmad Shah Massoud’s Northern Alliance against the Taliban. For much of his time in Afghanistan, it was essentially him, his team, and a handful of Northern Alliance’s Shbh operators against an army of tens of thousands with what little support the Northern Alliance could scrounge up. The operations he took changed the course of history, allowing the Persian-styled government to make a stand against the fundamentalists. It was his campaign there that made him a true legend and become Big Boss.” Gerhardus is something of a fanboy of Big Boss’s, and it showed with his exited summary of how Big Boss became a legend.



“He sounds like a great warrior then,” Azibal said in awe, “Even Queen Tyuule could match what you’ve told… if it is true.” Aaron and Gerhardus slightly rose their eyebrows at Azibal’s comment and its underlying tone of suspicion. Then again, Big Boss’s exploits are always something of ‘that has to be an exaggeration’ territory when told. That is usually the point where those who think it’s an exaggeration get reminded that truth can be stranger than fiction.



“It’s true alright,” Aaron answered, “I’ve been through a few of his ops before being transferred to the Aufklärungsabteilung to reduce the chances of me burning out. The few ops with Big Boss I had pretty much solidified his legendary exploits.” Gerhardus simply sat there, looking at Aaron with a stunned look on his face. “Now, we should change the subject before I blow your minds some more. So, how’s home Gerhardus?”



“Eh, nothing much Aaron. The South Africans are still being idiots across the border after the most powerful Afrikaner tribes seized power and started antagonizing everyone. Had to wake up in the middle of the night a few times because the South African military passed the border chasing Boers and anyone that didn’t agree with via pogroms,” Gerhardus answered, “Outside of that, things in the African Federation have been rather quiet. Sadly, Helena died almost a year ago, poor thing.” That got Aaron uneasy. He remembered Helena the rabbit. Cutest little rabbit anyone ever saw. It’s soft, dusty tan fur and slightly droopy ears would make anyone simply want to sit down and pet the rabbit for hours on end. She also had the cutest bunny smile that would simply melt your heart.



“Damn, she lived a good life, didn’t she?” Aaron answered solomly, “Sorry that she died. Best damn rabbit that anyone could ask for.” Azibal became incredibly confused, as the two soldiers showed sadness about a pet rabbit dying.



“Eh, she helped us stay relatively sane… that’s all I can ask for,” Gerhardus replied, “… and now that you mentioned her. Azibal has the same ears and fur color as Helena.” Aaron looked at Azibal for a moment, taking that moment to compute what Gerhardus was saying… before it literally slapped him in the face.



“Well I’ll be,” Aaron said in surprise, “You’re right Gerhardus. She does have Helena’s ears and fur coloration.” Azibal’s confusion deepened to complete bafflement as the two continued on their train of thought.



“What is going on?” Azibal asked in confusion and fear, “Why are you looking at me like that?” That was when Gerhardus took out a smart phone and went into the photo-app, getting a good picture of Helena the Rabbit.



“This is Helena,” Gerhardus answered, “She helped me go through life in Southeast Africa as a young adult. Also helped Aaron here too when his father was transferred to Southeast Africa.” Azibal looked at the picture of the rabbit in question, and she simply sat there, her brain trying to compute what she was seeing. Here was a large rabbit that would be her in genuine rabbit form. Then there was this feeling of adorableness as she kept looking at the image.



“Hauptmann Neumann to General Forsythe’s Office; Hauptmann Neumann to General Forsythe’s Office.”



“Um, can you keep an eye on Azibal for a short bit? General Forsythe wants me, and it’ll take too long to simply drop her off at her assigned quarters,” Aaron asked.



“Just give her quarters and I’ll make sure she gets there,” Gerhardus replied. Aaron quickly transferred the location to Gerhardus’s own wrist computer before running out of the canteen. “So, tell me about yourself…”

True, also it should have had a second season.

Well, the anime should have continued with the manga and light novel (which included zombies, Movie!Starship Trooper Arachnids, oh my!), but given how bad the situation is in the entertainment industry for a while now...

Ladies and gents, I'm telling this chapter that it is finished because it is almost 12k words long. Almost 12k words in length.

That would bring readability issues, to say the least as it really skirts the line.

(___________________________)
Chapter 6: Context of the Unknown


Artyom, Russia – Gate Earth; September 30th, 2017 – 04:30 Hours Local Time
Captain Nikolai Malashenko frowned as he walked through the town of Artyom. To see the people so depressed and so downtrodden… so hooked on narcotics and drink that they would throw their lives away to end it all… to see families destroyed…

It was too much for him to bear. He and his comrades have been trying to give many people here the one thing they truly needed: hope. Hope for a future. Hope for family. Hope to live. It is without that hope that humanity’s life is short and brutal. It is hope that governments create to make people’s lives mean something.

… yet, here, they assume that there is no hope. A situation that the Union will change.

“Sir?” Nikolai’s second in command -one Korneyev Yaroslav Vladimirovich, Slava to his friends- asked as he jogged towards Nikolai, “What’s wrong?” Nikolai simply looked around with sadness miring his face.

“Everything,” Nikolai answered in a distasteful tone, “Everything and then some.” Nikolai looked at a family whose vehicle just broken down. “Our glorious Premier’s counterpart here has drained all the people’s hope. Made them effectively lose their will to live.” That was when Nikolai directed Vladimirovich to look at the family. “Slava, call in my command vehicle and have them report to my position as soon as they’re able…”

“Understood captain!” Yaroslav answered, “This is Yaroslav, captain wants his BTR-90K to our position immediately!” Yaroslav heard complaints on the other end of the radio. “I don’t fucking care if your orders are to say at camp! If Nikolai wants to help civilians, not even men like Lenin or divines like God can stop him!” Yaroslav heard even more complaints about operational security when the conversation was interrupted.

“This is Sokol One,” Nikolai’s CO stated over the radio, “What is the problem here?”

“Sorry Colonel Orlovsky,” Yaroslav apologized, “Captain Malashenko has asked me to get his command vehicle to help out some civilians whose car broke down. The lieutenant has been arguing about operational security and orders…” Orlovsky coughed to silence everyone on the line.

“This is Sokol One, I’m giving permission for Malashenko to use his vehicle to help civilians. However, I do not want to hear that arguments about operational security and helping the civilians happening on any channel,” Colonel Orlovsky ordered, “We have been given permission to help the civilians any way we can by our Premier. I do not want to hear that an argument like this happens again. Sokol One out.”

“This Dimitri, we’re on our way. ETA: three minutes.”

“Thank you, Colonel,” Yaroslav complimented, “We’ll try to help the civilians as much as we can. Sokol Six-One, out.” That was when Yaroslav ran up to Nikolai. “Captain, our command vehicle will arrive in three minutes.”

“Understood Slava,” Nikolai thanked before he turned to the civilians, “Don’t worry, we’ll get you home in a few minutes.” Nikolai frowned at the fear that the small family of four were showing, especially the two children. “Why are you so afraid little ones?”

“Why are you helping us?” the youngest said. That question wounded Nikolai… had the alternate version of their Premier turned everyone so cynical to the point that they assume that a genuinely helpful hand is to gain a favor of some kind?

“Because little ones,” Nikolai answered with a smile, “it is the right thing to do.” The family’s faces didn’t change much. “You know, you remind me of my first born, Polya. Whenever she was sad or angry she would be so cynical of things… but when she is happy, she could brighten up the entire room with just her beautiful smile…”

The conversation that the two soldiers and the family had gone on for three minutes, and within those three minutes everyone got to know each other. Yaroslav and Nikolai told stories of their lives both at home and abroad as part of his world’s UN Peacekeeper Corps while the family told them of what few happy memories that they had. That was when the BTR-90K rolled up.

“Captain!” the driver, Dimitri, exclaimed in joy, “Telling these civies about home?”

“Da, lieutenant,” Nikolai answered with a hearty laugh, “I see that you’ve got the car retrieval kit too!” The back of the BTR-90K had a hitch for the various cars in the Soviet arsenal.

“I thought it might be prudent that we do more than simply get them home Captain,” Dimitri answered, “We’ve also got Boris on board too!” Nikolai’s eyes widened a bit, Boris is one of the best mechanics in Nikolai’s unit. If he can’t find the problem, then practically no one can.

“That is taking the initiative Dimitri!” Nikolai chuckled, “Now let’s get these civilians and their vehicle home and see why their vehicle broke down.” Most of the reduced crew of the BTR-90 quickly jumped out and started getting everything ready as Yaroslav and Nikolai got the civilians aboard the BTR. That was when the hairs on the back of Nikolai’s neck started to stand up.

“Captain?” Yaroslav asked inquisitively.

“We better keep our wits about Slava,” Nikolai ordered, “I’ve got a feeling that we’ve wrangled ourselves into something.” Nikolai frowned as he looked around the street. “It might be nothing, but we better prepare if it isn’t. Get Lydia to arm the cannon, coax, and grenade launcher just in case.”

“Understood Captain,” Yaroslav stated in understanding as he entered the BTR.

“Is the vehicle ready?” Nikolai asked politely.

“Yes, captain!” Boris answered, “We’re ready to move at any time!”

Nikolai smiled, “Good, let’s get these civilians home.” Everyone acknowledged and entered the BTR…

A few minutes later, in the residential block of Artyom
“Nice little apartment,” Nikolai commented as he helped the family move what few groceries into their apartment, “Reminds me of my great uncle’s when he was still alive.”

“It might not be much, but it is home,” the father -a former intelligence archivist by the name of Andreyushkin Nikodim Mikhailovich- answered as he put the groceries down on the kitchen counter, “I inherited it from my father, god bless his soul, and we’ve managed.” Everything has been going quite smoothly, and the family had opened up on the way to their apartment, telling their own stories about their lives.

“That’s good,” Nikolai complemented, “Family is one of the few things that hope brings, in my experience.” Nikolai’s face was soon mired in a frown. “I remember when my grandfather Alexandr died. He had only seen my firstborn for the first time only the day before… and simply collapsed at the family home in Moscow. We discovered that he died happy, as he got to see little Polya and held her in his arms. He left my little brother Urvan with the family home while I inherited the family cabin outside of Vladivostok…” That was when they both heard gunfire. “What is happening?”

“Looks like this world’s Spetznaz!” was the reply over the radio, “Probable target is likely the family we’ve just helped.”

Nikodim cursed loudly as he opened a panel in the nearby wall. “I knew that Putin wouldn’t let me live,” Nikodim cursed as he loaded one of the AK-74u carbines he hid in the hidden gun rack and passed it to Nikolai, “I left the service to be with my family and he allowed me after doing one final mission, looks like he’s making sure that there are no loose ends.”

“Oh, you’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” Nikolai complained as he readied his AK-74u, “The more I hear about your Vladimir Putin, the more I want him dead.” Nikolai quickly got to his radio. “Sokol 1, this is Sokol 6-1: we’re being attacked by enemy Spetznaz, we need support over!”

“This is Sokol 1, say again.”

“Sokol 6-1 to Sokol 1: we’re being attacked by enemy Spetznaz. Probable target is the civilians we’ve helped. Need immediate backup!” Nikolai practically screamed into his radio as a few bullets whizzed by, “Make that confirmed target being the civilians we’ve helped!”

“Understood Sokol 6-1. Reinforcements are on the way. Lieutenant Romanov will be arriving shortly with his airborne infantry.”

“Thank god!” Nikolai praised in relief, “It’s dependable Romanov coming to save us!” Nikolai had worked with Lieutenant Demian Romanov before, worked hard and played harder. Known to be incredibly efficient while prepared for the worst-case scenario. “Just hope that physics will allow him to do so…”

----------

“Oh, you’ve got to be kidding me!” Han Bo cursed as he and his three-man group of guards and assistants grabbed their combat gear, “How did they find out about us I’ll never know…” Han Bo was assigned by his superior to ‘test the waters’ with one of Putin’s special intelligence archivists. All he had to do was set things up for his escape into China and then sent to America where a joint US-Chinese debriefing would take place. Yet Putin’s personal attack dogs within the Spetznaz have now started to attack the building they’re in.

“Sir, those unknown communists are opening fire,” one of the bodyguards said, “What should we do?” Han Bo frowned, knowing that this is a delicate situation. Orders were to not reveal themselves to the unknown communists, but on the other hand the Spetznaz have already moved in for the kill on their VIP and his family…

“We’ll help them,” Han Bo ordered, “If we stay quiet, we might get caught in the crossfire or lose our only chance to get into the full extent of Operation Deep Fifty. We need that information, and we can’t get it from a body bag.” The bodyguards were pensive, as their superior is right. You couldn’t get information from a body bag… and this had been the most solid lead on Operation Deep Fifty that they had. A dozen operatives and their associates had died to get what little information the rest of the world had on the intelligence operation.

“Understood sir,” Huang Shuyi answered as she loaded her QCW-05 SMG, “what unit of Spetznaz are we dealing with and plan accordingly.” The other two bodyguards looked at her like she was slightly unhinged, given how clam she was… but then again, she was assigned to this mission because of her talents and is a rising star within the Ministry of State Security as one of the few who always got the VIP(s) back safely.

“We’re probably dealing with those from Directorate V,” the third bodyguard -a man by the name of Cai Zhihao– answered, “… and that means we’re going to have a nasty fight on our hands… and our weapons aren’t going to cut it.” Huang Shuyi frowned at that information.

“Bring everything,” Han Bo ordered, “We’re likely going to have one shot and one shot only to see what Putin had in store for the world, and this man is the key.” Everyone understood what Han Bo was telling them. Whatever this Operation Deep Fifty is, it is so important that Putin would remove anyone that knows about it, even fragments, from existence. Andreyushkin Nikodim Mikhailovich is the key to understanding it all.

The rest of the impromptu squad quickly loaded everything they could and carefully self-destructed what they couldn’t… then burst into combat.
----------
“Chinese Second Division!” Nikolai heard over the symphony of gunfire, “Friendly! Friendly!”

Nikolai cursed his luck, he is now dealing with spooks, and not just any spooks but Chinese spooks. If they were anything like their counterparts back home, they’ll be pretty damn impressive. To have them reveal themselves like this meant that Nikodim is far more important than initially believed.

“Alright, just get over here and help us!” Nikolai ordered as the four spooks ran towards Nikodim’s apartment as an explosion sounded across the street, “Romanov, where are you!?! They’ve just disabled my command vehicle!” Whatever these Spetznaz were carrying only damaged the drive train of the BTR-90K… but that meant that they’ve got heavy weaponry and what Nikolai had can’t stand up to heavy weaponry for long.

“Pilot, I don’t care if you have to push the engines beyond the red line, just get us there!” Romanov ordered the pilot on the radio, “I know that’s breaking protocol but if we don’t then we might not have anyone to save!” Nikolai sighed a little at the conversation, knowing about Romanov’s willingness to break protocol to save people. “Nikolai, ETA is currently sixty seconds! Just hang on a little longer.”

Nikolai winced as a bullet barely missed his helmeted head. “We’ll try to hold out Romanov!” Nikolai exclaimed through the radio, “But whomever these guys are, they’re fucking determined!”

“Understood Nikolai,” Romanov replied, “We’ll make every attempt to get there as soon as we’re able.” Nikolai sighed as bullets flew around… knowing full well that this would be the longest sixty seconds that he would ever witness.

Nikolai cursed as he checked the magazine of his local AK, only five bullets left… and there were only five magazines between Nikolai and Nikodim, and Nikolai’s crew weren’t in much better shape either. As even AK-07s had their limits.

That was when Nikolai heard the humming of a Hind, and the door opening… and what came out surprised Nikolai half to death: Cyber Spetznaz. Four of them jumped from the Hind, fully armed and ready and literally landing either next to or right on top of the enemy Spetznaz. The rest of the squad parkoured their way down, firing as they went.

There is a common theme to what happens when soldiers with high cyberization fought against those with low or nill cyberization, and that is a massacre. Reaction time is god -or at least one of them- in combat, and the ability to fine tune one’s reaction time to the situation is an invaluable asset. Add in the support of the Hind, and pretty much no one -other than Big Boss, The Boss, or the rising star that is the ‘Junker Boss’, but all three are extreme outliers- will keep fighting. Either they die, surrender, or retreat. In this case? The few that survived managed to retreat, most likely going to tell of their failure and the cause of that failure.

“Damn,” what appeared to be the leader of the Chinese spooks said, “Those guys really cleaned up those Division V Spetznaz rather well. I’m Han Bo, the leader of the local intelligence cell for the People’s Republic of China’s Second Division.” Nikolai sighed a sigh of relief. “We were here to persuade Nikodim to help us in answering a few things and help smuggle him out before Putin decides to tie up loose ends…”

“Thanks for the assist, Han Bo,” Nikolai responded suspiciously, he knew that most spooks would have cover names to reduce retaliation by terrorist organizations or to protect the soldiers themselves, “We were just helping Mr. Andreyushkin getting his family home and getting the groceries in. The… wait, did you say Division Vympel?” Han Bo looked at Nikolai in confusion. “As in internal security?” Han Bo simply nodded yes… causing Nikolai to mutter a rather colorful string of curses. “How far does is this madman willing to go?”

“From what little we’ve seen, he’s of the school of ‘tying up loose ends by any available means’ ever since his failed Active Measures program in the US and Europe,” Han Bo answered, “Various agents and associates have been turning up dead for the last year with various levels of collateral.” Nikolai seethed in rage, good agents and associates are hard to find and cultivate… and to simply kill them because a program went sour is wasteful at best. Add to that this Putin wouldn’t care who got caught in the crossfire… Nikolai quickly got his rage under control as the Hind landed nearby just as two light attack helicopters flew overhead.

“Nikolai, I leave you for an hour and your luck has you fighting Spetznaz,” Romanov laughed as he exited the Hind, “The Cybers have gone out to ensure that the perimeter is secured… and I see that you had a fight on your hands.” Romanov saw the disabled BTR-90K, its transmission and power plant damaged beyond repair but otherwise still capable. “You were lucky that I was on perimeter patrol when you called in. Anyone else wouldn’t be able to arrive in time.”

“Thank you, Romanov,” Nikolai cried in elation, “We were almost ready to start throwing rocks at the bastards!” Then Nikolai saw one of his comrades come out of the apartment with the family. “Get Mr. Andreyushkin and his family to base… if Putin wants them dead, we better get them out of the line of fire.” Nikolai’s subordinates quickly got the family into the Hind alongside the wounded. “Romanov, this is Han Bo and his team, they’re from the local Chinese intelligence service. We would have died before you arrived if it weren’t for them.” Romanov quickly shook Han Bo’s hand.

“Ah, thanks for saving Nikolai, Han Bo,” Romanov chuckled, “It’s been considered a running gag that Nikolai here has some of the schizophrenic luck in the entire military. Now, why are you even here?” Romanov’s visage turned grim as he asked the question, sending a few shivers down the Chinese agents’ spines.

“Well,” Han Bo replied, “We’ve been getting intelligence about a project called ‘Operation Deep Fifty’, and despite our best efforts the various agencies haven’t had any luck on finding its contents, Mr. Andreyushkin is the biggest lead on the project.” Nikolai and Romanov looked at each other like it just has gotten worse…

“Nikodim! Get whatever information you’ve stashed during your time as an archivist! The GRU and these fellows from the Second Division would like to know what you’ve got on Putin,” Nikolai asked politely.

“I was about to do that,” Nikodim answered as he went into his apartment, then came out hauling hard drives and memory sticks.

“Alright then,” Romanov yawned, “Alfa team, we’re taking a VIP and his family back to base, search and destroy any and all enemy Spetznaz in the area to ensure safe transport.”

“Understood Lieutenant!”

“This is so going to cause a headache when we get back to base…” Romanov complained as he got the rest of Nikolai’s crew and the local Chinese intelligence operatives into the Hind…

Over Sadera, Zeppelin Vaterland IV LZ-420 – 800 meters above sea level; October 1st, 2017 – 06:30 Hours
Kapitän Abraham Einhorn looked before him in the command gondola at the sight he and his crew are now witnessing. The capital of the Holy Empire of Alnus -Sadera- now stood below them. A city of millions bustling about as the zeppelin came overhead, not knowing that an amazing sight would be coming overhead.

The Zeppelin Vaterland IV had been transferred from long-range cargo and passenger service to the land beyond the Portal -which has been identified as Falmart- for a special mission: to make contact with Equestria and its allies. Apparently -and this had been confirmed by Wolfenstein operatives stationed in Fort Portal- one of Equestria’s rulers can communicate to others via dreams… and that has been something of a godsend for the Iron Pact as there are still a fair number of enslaved individuals still unaccounted for. Apparently due to their hardiness they were going to be sent to the Empire’s colony off their continent before a storm mysteriously caused the ship to run aground near one of their major cities.

The surviving slavers were quickly imprisoned and sent to do hard labor for at least a decade… and the enslaved Iron Pact citizens were sent to a place called ‘Ponyville’. The less said about those slavers, the better.

“We’re now above the outskirts of the city of Sadera Kapitän,” Abraham’s XO -one George Wilhelm Wickler- stated. So far, the Vaterland IV had been cruising rather well, and it was at the perfect altitude to make an old fashioned ‘Zeppelin Spectacle’… without the dragon riders trying to wreck the majesty that is a Zeppelin.

“Very good,” Abraham responded with a smile, “Steady as he goes then.” The command gondola crew responded with ‘jawohl’ as they continued their duties.

“So… this is what flying in a zeppelin feels like,” the Equestrian Pegasus Comet Tail said in awe as he entered the gondola, “I’ve seen and flew in hot air balloons, but this is something else.” Abraham mentally chuckled, as this sort of reaction is common for those who haven’t ridden or seen a zeppelin before. “Then there was that march that was playing while we were lifting off… and despite that it was a march it was so whimsical and genuinely felt like you were flying in the clouds. Few pieces of music can achieve that feeling…” Thankfully Comet Tail is an expert navigator -despite having training with equipment that is, at best, early industrial- and has been rather helpful with plotting a course to Equestria.

“I understand,” Abraham laughed, “as far as I know, everyone has that sort of feeling when flying in a zeppelin. The feeling has been studied by psychologists the world over and we still don’t know precisely why that feeling is so prevalent.” Abraham then looked towards George. “Any military response to the spectacle?”

“None so far, and from what the observation gondolas have been seeing, it looks like everyone is dropping what they’re doing and coming to see the spectacle,” George answered, “I think they’re too shocked to make a military response…”

-----
Piña Co Lada frowned at her current situation. Her father has been more focused on petty politics than defending the nation, her brother Diablo is trying to create some grand plan with practically no information to go on, and Zorzal has been on a sex-spree while the Empire is at its darkest hour. Her current situation? Waiting for the remaining elements of her Rose Knights to come to the capital so she can move out and start getting information of these new and powerful foes themselves, and not through Piña’s somewhat shaky network of informants and spies. She could never match the network that her grandfather -Emperor Aulus Antistius Iulianus- or -to a lesser extent- the old information network of her father… but right now it is needed despite its frailty and unreliability.

“Princess Piña!” Hamilton Uno Ror – Piña’s trusted aide, and despite her small stature a rather good fighter- exclaimed, “The runner from Lady Beefeater’s Cohort has given us more information on the border between the rest of the Empire and the Holy Hills…”

“Please tell me we have some good news for a change Hamilton?” Piña asked with a scowl on her face, “The last few runners only gave us bad or worse news.” Piña’s informants within the legions were troubling to say the least. So far, the enemy has been holding up on their respective hills while sending raiders of immense power to annihilate entire garrison castra with such ease and surprise that only a handful of legionaries or auxiliaries got out alive.

“Just more bad news I’m afraid,” Hamilton answered, “The Empire lost another castra on the border sometime last week. The runner had taken the canals to get here within a week.” Piña sighed at the information and took a needle with a colored wax rear tip and put it on her special copy of the map of the continent that she had on the adjoining wall. The red-tipped needles were placed on locations of destroyed castra, the blue-tipped needles where the two invading forces were spotted, and the yellow-tipped needles were rumor, but the runners couldn’t confirm what actually happened.

“DAMN IT!” Piña cursed loudly as she pounded the table, tin figurines falling over, “How can these invaders be able to do this?” Piña rattled her brain as she tried to figure it out. “This doesn’t make sense!” She quickly battered the desire to start pulling hairs out as she looked at the situation that is being presented to her.

“Lady Co Lada…” Hamilton spoke up, “the runner that came in has information on the how. We’ve finally got a survivor that is able to tell us what happened to the castra.” Piña was elated to say the least, as the invaders had always struck so hard and fast that there wasn’t much to go on. “From what the survivor can tell us, they always struck at night, came in like ghosts barely visible to sight, used some sort of magic to destroy the castra’s large towers, and that was before the metal dragons started flying in, annihilating everything with great explosive and fire magics unlike anything the world has ever seen outside the Solar Invictus! Most of those who survived were quickly eliminated by these ‘ghost soldiers’ before they vanished without a trace.” Piña’s heart sank as she heard Hamilton summarize the information. That… was bad. The ability to destroy castra with impunity is rare in of itself, only the Diarchs of the Kingdom of Equestria are the only obvious ones with that ability, given that they’re gods… but to have it done so regularly… the implications are disturbing to say the least.

That was when Piña heard a commotion going outside, and looking away from her maps, she saw people exiting their homes and places of work and looking into the sky.

Piña quickly exited her study and looked into the sky herself and saw something that she couldn’t comprehend. The shape in the sky was a shape that shared many similarities to an Unician cigar, but in a near-white grey. It was flying higher than any dragon rider was willing to go, at least any sane one. It was also massive… so massive that it made certain, implications on at least one of the invaders’ abilities.

“Hamilton,” Piña commanded, “we need your best runners, our new rallying point would be the Citadel City of Italica.” She continued to look into the sky in fear. “I fear that’ll be where the invaders will be hitting next…”

“I understand my lady,” Hamilton answered, “I’ll send my best messengers on this task.” Hamilton quickly left, working on the messages as quickly as she could without garbling the messages…

Fort Portal, Primary Entertainment Center; October 1st, 2017 – 12:40 Hours
Azibal and her contubernium had been in muted awe when Centurion Neumann had gotten them into what the legionaries of the Iron Pact called the ‘Primary Entertainment Center’. Inside, the building had what is called a ‘movie theater’ (which is similar to theaters that she and her contubernium are familiar with, just with moving pictures instead of people), a ‘computer center’ (which confused the netherworld out of Azibal and her contubernium), a ‘gymnasium’ that included what is called an ‘Olympic sized pool’, and things that Azibal and her contubernium didn’t know even existed. Yet, the most awe-inspiring part was when they were introduced to the campus’s library.

For what amounts to be a frontier castra, the library here is only surpassed by the ones in the larger cities, the capital, or Rondel.

Azibal and her contubernium had been learning the various languages of that the legionaries of the ‘Iron Pact’, and now they were going to use it to research the Iron Pact itself. What they didn’t count on was the fact that there was just so many books available to them right off the bat… and that they used a classification system that somewhat baffled them. However, that didn’t deter them, and after getting a ‘crash course in the Dewey Decimal System’ the contubernium got to work reading. Learning. Studying.

Adonyah was nose deep in a book with the title The Analysis of Sun Tzu’s Art of War with the titular ancient treatise nearby, writing notes what the nations of the Iron Pact have learned through their analysis of the ancient treatise as well as the ancient treatise itself.

Then there was Sisa and she was nose deep in another treatise, this time simply titled On War by one ‘Carl von Clausewitz’. The few legionaries that helped Azibal and her contubernium in finding the treatise and the books on its analysis called the book ‘the Western Art of War’.

Shiba and Jesibel were reading stacks upon stacks of history books, thousands upon thousands of pages of history laid out before the two, going through the history of pre-written history to what the Iron Pact considered the present. Histories of conflicts and empires laid before them… and was a lot to read and analyze.

Adoniah was looking through various books on what is called ‘science’ within the Iron Pact. While most of them were introductions to the various fields of ‘science’, they were none the less vital to explain their capabilities. … and what Adoniah had shared with Azibal was mind-bogglingly through, even more through than the immense tomes that the various Grand-Mages of Rondel had created and shared with the world.

The final duo -Nikkal and Adonya- of the contubernium were looking over the various myths and what the legionaries called ‘fiction’, which is mind-bogglingly extensive, to say the least. Yes, the Empire and its vassals are capable of doing such feats but that is mostly seen in the field of theater, not writing… but then again, not even the Empire could produce so many books. The sheer resources needed to do so would be immense…

Azibal slumped as she watched several legionaries from the Iron Pact working or playing on their ‘laptops’. Azibal had already did a lot of work on consolidating and analyzing what the rest of contubernium had but so far only those more knowledgeable in various aspects can make any sort of sense about them.

… and what little she could understand is a little frightening and oddly enough humbling.

The Empire invaded one of the most powerful nations within the ‘Iron Pact’ known as Germany -also called the ‘Second German Empire’ and Imperial Germany- and its early history is incredibly similar to those of the tribe of the Warrior Bunnies. Started out as a bunch of fiefdoms, tribes, kingdoms, and micro-empires that eventually were part of something like the Holy Empire of Alnus, but with similar levels of factionalism to the Warrior Bunnies. In addition to military endeavors, the various German States also engaged in untold amounts of competitions in economic, cultural, and scientific fields, unintentionally (or intentionally, Azibal figured) creating the bedrock for a unified German culture.

Yet the Empire invaded their capital when they thought it was ripe for conquest… who then called upon all its allies while simultaneously crushing the invaders. The Empire didn’t step on the griffon’s tail, it has woken a nesting Great Dragon from its slumber. That must be sent back to the Empire as soon as possible, likely to Princess Piña. The only real place where Azibal could get it to Piña would be her uncle’s daughter, Myui Formal in Italica. If the forces that now reside on Alnus hill are anything like the ‘Iron Pact’…

Azibal shuddered as she tried to keep her thoughts about it from going crazy and outright Ragnarök-ish. No need to go down that line of thought… would be rather counterproductive for her mission.

… still… it would be a fitting end to the Empire if their gods would allow it…

Azibal shook her head again, trying to keep those thoughts from popping up again. While the empire had done horrible things to practically everyone, they’re practically the only group who doesn’t want constant warfare erupting practically every other month.

“… Azibal,” Nikkal said as she pushed Azibal’s shoulder, “are you listening to me?” Azibal shook herself out of her mental stupor and looked at Nikkal.

“Sorry,” Azibal apologized, “you’ve kind of got me deep in thought. What little I could understand is… overwhelming to say the least.” Azibal scratched her head. “So, what has got you all flustered Nikkal?”

“Well, Azibal,” Nikkal answered, “I’ve been going through what they call ‘fantasy’ and ‘mythology’… and… well… it has to be seen to be believed.” Nikkal plopped an absolutely thick book right in front of her. “They practically have every species that we know of on Falmart and Equis as creatures of myth… with some that we have only heard from rumor or gained from Imperial raids from the south and the east.” Pictures of creatures that the Empire had only gained through the slave markets of the free cities near the Sultanate of Agrabah were shown, as well as creatures that were only known through rumor from those cities. The Sultanate of Agrabah had always been a major thorn in the Empire’s backside, as it controls the trade routes to the extremely rich Qin Empire in the southeast. “This… shouldn’t be possible…” The more Azibal went through the book, the more confusion took hold. How could these people have rather accurate descriptions for numerous races when they never had them on their world in the first place?

“This… this is impossible,” Azibal muttered as she looked through the pages, “They don’t have magic and yet they have examples of every magical race we know of!” Azibal sighed in confusion before an idea popped into her head. “… Nikkal, remember the rumors about those Astro-projection experiments that the current Grand Magus of Magic was doing before he took the position?”

“Yeah,” Nikkal answered, “from what little I could understand from the rumors, he was trying to utilize mental and soul magic to ‘project’ his soul to another location. He discontinued the research because it caused him to ‘ride’ onto other people, which caused discomfort for everyone involved.” Then Nikkal went wide-eyed. “You mean…”

“Yes,” Azibal answered, “I think we’ll need to send a letter to the Grand Magus and maybe a copy of this book. Someone has been using his research improperly for their own gain.” Azibal frowned. “Piña is also the only child of the Emperor that the Grand Magus would even listen to… which would help us immensely if he already hasn’t assembled a team to look into who occupies two of the Holy Hills.”

Nikkal simply sighed at that. “A long night Azibal?” Nikkal asked.

“A very long night…” Azibal answered.

Castle of Friendship – Ponyville, Equestria; Brumaire (October) 2nd, 1005 Post-Nightmare Moon
Celestia Li Sunriser -Daughter of the Great Mother Faust; Goddess of the Sun, Law and Order, and Education; The Dealmaker; The Great Mentor; The Sun Incarnate; Sol Invictus; the Co-Conqueror of Discord; one of the two last students of Starswirl the Bearded; Co-Ruler of Equestria- simply sat at the head of the meeting table that the Castle of Friendship had created alongside her sister Luna -Second Daughter of the Great Mother Faust; Goddess of the Moon, Knowledge, Magic, and the Arts; The Starfallen; Army Destroyer; one of the two last students of Starswirl the Bearded; Co-Ruler of Equestria- in this important meeting. The Equis Pact hadn’t had a meeting like this in centuries, not since the rump-state that was the Caribou Empire had a revolution that transformed it into the Caribou Republic… but the situation in the Holy Empire of Alnus was something that had to be talked about and the aftereffects planned for. The meeting had already gone on for four hours, and most of it was getting what their nations’ respective intelligence networks have gained onto the table.

“So,” the Hissho delegate sighed, “the Sadalrians have finally had a serious lapse in judgment and thought that upsetting two great alliances without knowing what they are up against was a good idea. It is like their failures in the invasion of Equis didn’t sink in.” The Hissho delegate -one Tsutsui Cualli, heir to the Tsutsui clan and the Shogunate of Hissh- is probably one of the more direct delegates of the Pact… but the Hissho have always been direct when an enemy is involved.

“That’s what our spies that are attached to our traders have been telling us,” the representative of the Kingdom of Abyssinia disclosed, “the Holy Empire of Alnus has been losing on all fronts since the initial invasion into the two Gates. The two groups of ‘men in green’ have been not only annihilating any of the Sadalrian armies they’ve encountered but also been dedicating themselves with immense infrastructure projects and capturing key towns and cities. From what little information my network can give me, Aquincum is going to be overrun within months if this keeps up…” Capper Callista is the current crown prince of the Kingdom of Abyssinia… and the head of the kingdom’s intelligence services. This, understandably, had everyone in the room a bit unsettled by the prince, but it was in times like these that his network was undeniably useful. “… and that doesn’t include what the ‘Men in Green’ from Alnus Hill are doing. While they’ve been more conservative in their movements, what little data I can get indicates that they’ll be at the gates of Potentia in a similar timeframe.” Everyone in the room was shocked at the speed, and for good reason…

“They’re fast,” the Minitour Federation delegate -one Lazaros Kairis, representative of the Minitour state of Mooria- commented, “… too fast. Even our forces wouldn’t be able to go through the legions that quickly, not without burning through our armies and supplies at an unsustainable rate…” Everyone nodded in agreement with Lazaros’s comment, as the ‘men in green’ on the Holy Hills of Alnus have been pushing out from their beachheads at such a speed that simply boggled the mind, specifically how they managed to keep up with such a tempo without burning through men and material like fuel oil. Aquincum is one of the three vital port cities -being a major water transportation hub- within the Empire, taking one would greatly hinder the Empire’s ability to shift forces and resources. “Still, given what Princess Luna has given us from her… unique… information network, they’re ire is with the Empire, not us.”

“Still, we can’t simply assume that Lazaros,” the Griffon delegate -Elector-Count Griff graf Suntalon of the Kingdom of Griffonstone- argued, “They might come after us next. It took the Elector Council over a century to become part of this pact and it took even longer for the various duchies and kingdoms to unite against the Holy Storm Empire.” The history of the griffons was, to say, a bit complicated. Nestled in mountains and valleys on the border of the Holy Storm Empire -ruled by the Storm King- to the north-east, the former Cariboo Empire in the west, Equestria in the south, the Dragon Kingdoms to the east, and the mysterious Nagarus Sultanate to the north-west, the Griffon kingdoms and duchies were in the center of much conflict over the centuries. This created a deep sense of paranoia and militarism, something that even the unifier of the Griffon kingdoms -one King Glaucus of the Flock of Griffonstone- couldn’t degrade after the Griffon kingdoms’ fifth war with the Holy Storm Empire. “We know nothing about them; thus, we can’t trust them.”

Lazaros simply rolled his eyes at Griff’s extreme paranoia… but understood where he was coming from, as the Minitour Federation was south of the Cariboo Empire. It was thanks to the numerous alliances specifically designed to keep the Cariboo Empire out that morphed into the foundation of the Federation, but the individualistic streak of the various states was hard to overcome. “What other choice do we have Griff?” Lazaros asked, “I mean all of us weren’t happy with King Thorax taking over the Changeling Hive after he deposed Queen Chrysalis, hell we were all like you when the word came out!” Griff simply nodded as he remembered the heightened tensions between the Equis Pact and the Changelings. “Yet they’re now allies with all of us because we did one thing, gave them a chance.” King Thorax’s representative -his brother Pharynx- simply nodded in acceptance.

“… and that chance is why the Changelings have been prospering at all,” Pharynx commented, “yet we are in a situation where we can fall into the same problem as when my brother usurped Chrysalis. If we don’t give these ‘Men in Green’ a chance now, we probably never will, the Holy Empire of Alnus sought to that.” Everyone nodded in agreement -even begrudgingly- with Pharynx’s line of thought. The Holy Empire of Alnus had ‘poisoned the well’ when it came to other human civilizations on this world. Even the Sultanate of Agrabah -despite it’s rather progressive (when compared to the Holy Empire of Alnus) attitudes with the various beings that inhabit this world- wasn’t completely trusted by the various nations of the Equis Pact, all thanks to the Holy Empire of Alnus.

Tsutsui Cualli simply sighed at this argument, as it went in circles. The Hissho have always equated trust to blood, and many of the most stringent contracts were signed in it and breaking them would have dire consequences… even more dire than breaking a ‘Pinkie Promise’. It is this mentality about trust that has always caused problems with the other nations. If these ‘Men in Green’ are willing to shed blood to gain the trust of others, then they are worthy of being trusted in the eyes of the Hissho and their pantheon. That doesn’t mean that the Tsutsui clan is going to gamble on that particular aspect of Hissho culture, as for months the Tsutsui clan has been praying to the gods for insight on this matter, and so far they have been given the equivalent of a message stating that they’re in the middle of a council meeting.

“Enough!” Luna said in the in/famous Royal Canterlot Voice before going back to her regular voice, “This argument is simply going around in circles. So far those from the lands that the ‘Men in Green’ are from have made sure that they didn’t abuse our generosity and yet here we are arguing their trustworthiness!” Griff made a slight humph as he rolled his eyes while Princess Luna went on her rant. “There is such a thing as too much paranoia… and right now most of us are displaying it in full.” Cualli mentally smiled, as Luna made the point that he was going to make.

Griff simply sighed, rubbing his talons on his temple. “If there is anything that I agree with the Starfallen, it is the fact that so far these ‘people’ haven’t abused Equestrian generosity in the slightest… but it still doesn’t mean that I trust them,” Griff answered, “This meeting has been going on for too long, I motion that we have a recess before continuing on. We’re tired and hungry, and all this information has been flaying our nerves…” Griff wasn’t wrong about that. The information that everyone has put onto the table -both literally and metaphorically- has been gnawing at the nerves of everyone in the room.

“I second that motion,” Cualli stated, “It would also allow me to console with my pantheon, to see what they have for us.”

“I third the motion,” Pharynx said, “All this anxiety and fear has started to make me sick; we should have a lengthy recess to clear our minds and emotions before we can move on, they’re pretty high as it is.” Everyone else agreed as they couldn’t really argue against those observations. Celestia quickly called for a two-hour recess to clear minds, get dinner, and try to destress before the next round of talks…

Council of Colleges Inner Sanctum, Rondel; September 3rd, 6729

For all but the most accomplished of mages and spirit wielders, to be even standing in the inner sanctum of the Council of Colleges is the highest honor that one can have in their lifetime. Yet, for the small group of mages and spirit wielders, it didn’t feel like an honor. There have been a handful of times that the Council of Colleges had called in mages and spirit wielders during a time of war, and all of them were special missions. What the assembled didn’t know was that Grand Magus Tiberius Nasennius Calpurnianus knew that the war between the two groups of ‘Men in Green’ and the Empire was going incredibly poorly for the Empire, as their military might was so awe inspiring that they simply erased entire cohorts from existence.

Arpeggio El Lalena noted the people that came into the sanctum with her. All of them are either students of her old teacher Cato or the best of the best adventurers that gold can buy… and if the Council of Colleges is willing to pay extortionate amounts of gold to pay for all the adventurers, then it must be important. The council quickly stated that they should be seated while the attendants came with the small feast, for this meeting is going to be a long one.

That, in of itself, was somewhat unusual because time is a commodity that most that practitioners of magic didn’t have in abundance. It also meant that this is a serious matter, one that took precedence over the various experiments in understanding the universe and energy that is mana…

“I, along the others of the Council of Colleges, thank you for coming to your summons so quickly,” Tiberius began, “we of the Council know that all of you have lives and research that require your uttermost attention, but the current situation that the Empire finds itself in takes far greater precedence than your research and your lives.” Murmurs about what Tiberius was talking about were quietly sounding around the guest table as Tiberius continued. “The Holy Hills have been taken by two groups only known as the ‘Men in Green’, and the ‘Men in Green’ have been annihilating whatever Imperial and local legions that have stood in their way. So far they have been slowly encroaching Imperial lands in every conceivable direction… including the direction of Rondel.” That got everyone talking. If the Empire was slowly getting overwhelmed by these new enemies, then they might consider the semi-independent city-state of Rondel to be part of the Empire and give its citizens the same treatment.

“A quest and a question, tis all the same!” Councilor Galen started in his… unique… riddles, “For the answers we seek we must play a game! A Great Crisis, where wise men are fools and fools are wise men, to find the answers you seek you must seek the right questions. The art is in solving my riddle without being riddled!” Arpeggio simply sighed at Galen, she had been her student and assistant -in Galen’s mind, there is no real difference- for her first few years in Rondel and while it was annoying at first, he considered it something akin to training the mind. Given that being powerful and being an eccentric go in hand as a rule of thumb…

“So… Councilor,” Arpeggio started, “our quest is not just a quest, but a mission of information gathering. The current situation in the Empire is that the ‘wise’ leaders are acting like fools while the ‘foolish’ leaders are acting like wise leaders, which has caused a crisis within the Empire. The right questions will allow us to find the information we seek and make this entire quest easier… am I right?” Galen gave a kitsune-like smile in response, acknowledging that Arpeggio was pretty good on the denari.

“Leave it to a student of Cato solves an infamous Galen Riddle,” Gimbli Brúlinger -head of the famous Highlanders of Norduhn Guild- chuckled happily, “… and tell us why we all are getting quintuple hazard pay for the quest. You don’t know a single balrog shit about these ‘Men in Green’ and have asked for two teams of adventurers tailor made for information gathering and aggressive extraction for the job.” Gimbli is from the Dwarven Kingdom of Norduhn to the south of the Empire and is well known for his extensive time -for a dwarf- as an adventurer. It was this extensive -several centuries- time as an adventurer that made him extremely valuable, especially since he was the head of the Highlanders of Norduhn, which is famous as one of the top three guilds in all of Falmart. Their impeccable record spoke for itself, and their pricetag. “This is going to be fun, even if we succeed in navigating through to the boring route.” Everyone chuckled as he said that.

“I was an assistant for him for a few years, it sort of rubs off on you after a while,” Arpeggio commented, “If he wants to test your riddle prowess, you’ll find that what he just said is one of his simpler ones.” Everyone looked at Arpeggio like she grew a second head, given that the riddle they just heard was one of the odder -and thus harder- ones they’ve witnessed.

“While this line of questioning is going to give interesting tidbits for one of the persons we’re assigned to escort,” a female hobbit adventurer named Tavia Twofoot interrupted with a chuckle, “We’re here to discuss what our quest is going to be like. Our objectives, the locations of said objectives, so on and so forth.” Tavia Twofoot is the head of the Longfellow Guild, known to be very paranoid about the quests they take, and for good reason. The Longfellow Guild had garnered a reputation for attracting all sorts of illegal quests and dishing out retribution that is allowed by Imperial law. “I haven’t been one of the best adventurers on the continent by not knowing what my guild is getting into.”

Tiberius sighed. “We have been receiving news from both our informants and from reports from the legions that two forces have made a beachhead on two of the Holy Hills, Alnus and Remus. These ‘Men in Green’ have annihilated the armies of numerous vassal kingdoms and have slowly expanded from the hills, annihilating whatever forces that the Empire has in their wake,” Tiberius explained, “So far, they have been focusing only on military targets and limiting the damage to the towns and villages in their path. What we’ve been getting is… both intimidating and fear-inducing. Given that Rondel is the center of all magical learning in the Empire and one of the groups of ‘Men in Green’ have been reported heading in this direction…”

“You guys fear that they’ll start doing the same thing to Rondel and its inhabitants as the legions,” Tavia finished, “Given the reputation of Mages, that’s very long-term of you.” The Council tried to keep themselves from rolling their eyes overtly at that latter statement. “Believe me, what I’ve been hearing from the rumor grapevine is pretty harrowing from a defensive standpoint. The ‘Men in Green’ have basically been doing whatever they wanted, annihilating the legions with ease while not being seen. Their supposed magics are so powerful that they boggle the mind of every mage I’ve met, saying that it couldn’t be done.” Everyone simply nodded as they understood Tavia.

“It is,” Gimbli commented grumpily, “and it doesn’t sit well with me.” Then he thought for a moment. “However, if we can get your envoys to the ‘Men in Green’ and get them to understand that not all within the Empire shares its views, then we all win… and since our escort records speaks for themselves, it’ll be amusing injuries at most.” Everyone chuckled with that.

“Still,” Tavia commented, “we don’t know what these ‘Men in Green’ would be like. All we know is severely limited and only by what the Empire decides to tell us.” Tavia sighed. “That makes thinking ahead all but impossible.”

“Given that three soul stones have been thoroughly snuffed out,” a third councilor -Grand Magus Titus Sestius Solus, Keeper of the Soul Stones- commented in a mournful tone, “All within heartbeats of each other. All that is left of the stones is scattered sludge.” Each and every powerful mage in the Empire and within the various allied territories had been forced to partake in a special ritual designed to bond their very soul to a special crystal as a safety measure. If the stone ‘dies’, then that means the mage in question is dead and how the stone reacts upon ‘death’ gives an indication of how the mage died. If the stone is destroyed, then the mage it is bonded to dies. It was a specific and most capable solution to rogue mages after the terror of Plagueis the Mad and a handful of his copycats. The stones themselves were placed in a special vault, made of solid mithril and adamantium with similarly made doors, with special protections designed to ensure that no one can kill the strongest mages in one fell swoop. “Given their power and their abilities…”

“You’ve got to be kidding me…” Gimbli commented with a frown, knowing that everyone would know what that implied.

The conference continued onward on that somber note…

Outer Edge of Alnus Province; October 2nd, 6729
Arpeggio frowned as the wagon train had slowly made it across the great highway that crossed the province, noting the lack of destroyed wagons and skeletal remains of dead soldiers or civilians. Everyone else in the train noticed it too, which is incredibly unnerving to say the least. The team of adventurers and mages had been talking to the various refugees from the lands in and around Alnus Province, and the information provided was perplexing. The Imperial Legions had ordered the towns, villages, and small cities in and bordering Alnus Province to evacuate and leave no food or resources behind.

Yet, the Men in Green had penetrated further into the Empire in the half a year than was thought possible. That information was acquired via some of the refugees from the hamlet known as Coda. The two groups bumped into each other in the village and a fight almost ensued before the two centurions managed to calm things down. Then, even though they were citizens of their enemy, assisted the hamlet and the nearby fae elf hamlet to escape the wrath of a great fire dragon… which they later killed with minimal loss of life! The elves, with no place to go, went with one of the groups of Men in Green, the few refugees that didn’t have anywhere to go went with the second group… and the refugees that went with the second group of Men in Green included her old teacher Cato and her step-sister! What was her old mentor and sister thinking going with the invaders! Given how much Cato knows about the current politics of the Empire, they are probably being tortured for information if not…

That line of thought was shattered when a whirl-hum sound passed overhead.

“What in Hardy’s name is that?” Gimbli exclaimed as he looked above, trying to find whatever that passed above them. The others started looking around them as well, believing that the convoy would be under attack in short notice.

“I don’t know,” the gargoyle priestess Giji Brooke replied, “but whatever it was, I say we find somewhere to hide before it comes back again. For all we know, it might be the Men in Green’s version of air cavalry on recognoscere duties… but that assumes that the Men in Green have anything like Imperial doctrine.” Giji wasn’t wrong in assuming that the Men in Green don’t have anything like Imperial military doctrine. “Right now, we can’t assume anything...”

As the caravan went up the hill, they saw one of the now-abandoned towns that wasn’t so abandoned. The Men in Green had set up a castra of operations near the town, constructing what looked like a castra on one of the nearby hills with machines that the people within the convoy couldn’t believe despite seeing it in their own eyes. What looked like merchants and new townspeople walked on the paved streets, bringing the town to life. Near the town was a large facility similar to the various riverine docks in the Empire, just on a far larger scale… but instead of a riverboat, there was a giant metal monster and a long line of metal wagons -some of which were rather flat and had what clearly looked like building materials and more machines- being unloaded as the caravan came to the stop.

“… is everyone seeing what I’m seeing?” Tavia asked rhetorically, “Because I’m having trouble believing what I’m seeing…” Even Arpeggio had to agree with Tavia with that. The metal monster had been releasing steam, but on a far grander scale than anyone could imagine. The idea and principles for creating a method to move things with steam isn’t a new concept, the very idea is absolutely ancient compared to pretty much most of modern science and magic. The major problem with the concept was the fact that the materials required needed such strength and made in such quantities that it would be impossible to create despite the literal legions of alchemists trying their damnedest to do so. Yet these ‘Men in Green’ not only have such materials but managed to perfect that concept. Fascinating… if it wasn’t for the implications of such.

“I think we’ve got company!” the spirit wielder Butu cried, pointing towards what looked like two contuberiums of men running up the hill, “… and apparently they’re concerned about something!”

“Attention! Stop where you are!” one of the men ordered at the top of his lungs in Saldarian with a very heavy accent, “You’re in an occupied area! State your intentions!” That put everyone into a loop, as most forces would simply kill the entire caravan for trespassing unless led by a very humane commander, as many armies don’t have the time or resources to simply detain various caravans during a major campaign, especially one half as quick as these Men in Green are.

The entire caravan was on guard, already fearing the worst.

“I am Gimbli Brúlinger, and this is the caravan from Rondel, the City of Mages, that my compatriots are escorting,” Gimbli answered back politely, “We’ve been hired by this group of mages and spirit wielders to escort them in their quest to see the ‘Men in Green’, to verify the numerous rumors and tales.” The one that spoke looked a little puzzled, like he never heard of Rondel. “We seek the ‘Men in Green’ and… we have apparently stumbled upon you… so… take us to your leader?” Gimbli uncharacteristically muttered the question, not knowing the response. The man that spoke simply sighed, like he knew that Gimbli was uncharacteristically shy and it wasn’t the first time someone asked that.

“Ernsthaft, Noch eine Gruppe? Das ist jetzt schon die zweiundzwanzigste diesen Monat, wobei es neu ist das Magier unter ihnen sind.” the man said in his native language -which was… oddly straight forward yet poetic- before switching to Saldarian, “Aright, we’ll escort you to the base commander, follow us.” The man motioned the caravan to follow towards the town’s Curia Hall right next to the town’s forum…

Arverni Curia Hall, a short while later

The Curia Hall was abuzz of activity, various magistrates and other civil servants were doing their jobs, making sure that things went smoothly and thus ensuring order. Arpeggio looked at everything with a critical eye and what she was seeing was jaw dropping. Machines that made perfect copies of legal documentation -a small voice in her head going into panic mode due to the fact that transcriptions is her livelihood, as being an assistant can only do so much- for various regulations, various colored lines showing the way to direction to the various rooms, and so much more…

Everyone was surprised at the sheer number of scribes that the Men in Green employed. Each scribe was doing something to ensure that whatever bureaucracy they had was running smoothly. Not only that, they were coordinating with others through an unknown method. Sending legionaries to wherever they were needed. One word that was constantly repeated is ‘Sanitäter’, and what Arpeggio could garner from what little she heard was that these ‘Sanitäter’ were some sort of legion-doctors… and they were helping people around town!

An action that is incredibly weird to say the least. Arpeggio wondered if the Empire’s inability to even hurt these legionaries in combat has these ‘Sanitäter’ be used as trustworthy medical staff in the occupied territories?

That had to be asked later, when there is more time to get more context… right now the entire convoy was being led to forum-courtyard where all sorts of charts and desks and things that Arpeggio couldn’t understand were laid about as legionaries and scribes scuttled about, giving updates to what was happening in their area. The large table at the center had some sort of animated figurines moving across its surface, likely showing troop movements. That was incredibly rare in the Empire, and just as expensive, as it requires very special (and very expensive) crystals to even hope to make it work while you must have a special (and even more expensive) map for every campaign area.

At the head of the table was a woman in a slightly more ornate version of the clothing that the various legionaries were using. She had a lean build but had an aura of immense authority surrounding her. That was when she looked up and saw Arpeggio and her group.

“Ah, you must be the group of specials that was called in,” the woman said, “Corazón Santiago, Colonel of the United States Army and part of the forces of the Iron Pact.” She then took a quick glance at the table before continuing. “Sorry about that, we’ve been fighting Imperial troops that have taken to guerrilla tactics and bandits over the last week. You’ve kind of caught us at a bad time I’m afraid, as we’ve got reports of a major bandit group a few minutes ago.” Arpeggio was surprised, as it took quite some time -usually hours- to get information in the field of battle. Yet these invaders can get information within minutes and acted upon it just as fast.

“I’m Arpeggio El Lalena, alchemist and materials mage and former student of Cato El Altestan,” Arpeggio began, “and I’m part of a caravan seeking the ‘Men in Green’. We’ve chased rumors for months… and yet we simply stumble upon them this close to the borders of Alnus and Italica provinces… we figured that it would be a few more months before we would meet you.” Santiago simply sighed.

“That is interesting,” Santiago said politely, “understandable, but interesting. Sadly, you wouldn’t be able to go to the two forts yet.” Everyone from Arpeggio’s caravan was confused. “Health and safety reasons. We can’t allow a situation that could potentially cause an epidemic. In addition, all of you are going to need documentation for your passports.” Arpeggio’s caravan became dumbfounded on that.

“Why would we need documents?” Gimbli asked, “Given our mission and our abilities…”

“Those don’t matter,” Santiago frowned, “those documents will be the only thing between you and incarceration, especially right now.” Santiago then took a short gander at the table. “We’ve been getting far too many bandits for it to be simply ripple effects of demolishing the local forces…” Everyone in Arpeggio’s caravan knew what that meant; mercenaries, or more specifically mercenaries paid to be bandits.

“That…” Butu commented, “… would explain a lot, given that as we got closer to Alnus Province, we’ve been seeing more and more bandit activity, far more than what would realistically happen in a war where the Empire is losing.” Butu wasn’t wrong, to say the least.

“Alright then, what do we need to do to start?” Arpeggio asked. Santiago simply smiled…

Mountains North of the Holy Hill of Remus; Several Months after Being Overthrown

Former queen Chrysalis Pernout nor Jynrya heaved herself as she climbed over the ledge, slowly getting closer to her goal. The road here had been rough and filled with disappointment. Her initial takeover of Equestria to extract a significant fraction of Equestria’s pool of positive emotion energy and leave, all to keep the changelings from literally starving to death -thanks to Hardy’s poisoning the changelings- and help heal her true mother, the goddess Jynrya (with the former -and thoroughly dead- Queen Cicada being the surrogate). Her kidnapping of the Elements was one-part revenge and one part getting Faust to help her to heal the changelings and her true mother. Both failed. Hard.

Although, Chrysalis had to admit, Thorax would make a very good changeling king… being her incredibly intelligent and capable son.

That is why she risked her life -practically starving herself in the process- to get here. Everything she had done had failed. She was literally out of options and almost out of hope.

The only hope she has now is Crescent Wing, the ancient Chozo that is the custodian of this world. If anyone can help her now, it would be the incredibly wise and intelligent sentient bird.

Yet, she had spent so much energy in getting here, Chrysalis frowned as she walked towards the great statues that guarded the temple’s entrance when she heard… singing… several beings singing something that was alien to her ears…

“Wenn wir erklimmen sonnige Höhen, Klettern dem Gipfelkranz zu!”

She had to admit; it was pleasant music despite its alien-ness.

“In unsern Herzen brennt eine Sehnsucht, Die lässt uns nimmer in Ruh.”

That was when she noticed that the singing was getting closer.

“Strahlende Berge, sonnige Höhen, Bergvagabunden sind wir!”

That was when Chrysalis noticed that she was incredibly lightheaded and cursed to herself, she probably had some unknown injury that she missed during the climb up to this remote location. It was then that Chrysalis fell to the ground, her body unable to keep up with the strain. She knew that she had a few more paces to the temple entrance but her body simply hit its limit in its current state. That was when she saw the beings that were singing coming around the corner…

“Hauptmann! Wir haben hier einen kritischen Fall! Holt SOFORT einen Sanitäter her und ruft den Med-Evac! Im Namen des Herrn ... VERDAMMT, hat sie den Anstieg etwa in diesem Zustand hinter sich gebracht?” a voice said in a language she couldn’t understand, the rest she couldn’t hear because Chrysalis was fading in and out of consciousness.

The one thing she noticed was the fact that they were helping her… a complete stranger to them and yet they were clearly more worried about her health than the possibility of her being an enemy. Unlike the legions of the Empire, they were dressed in colors that looked like some sort of camouflage with a helmet that was unlike anything she saw before. Who are these humans and… why are they here?
______________________
Prince Adolf of the House of Wittelsbach always hiked with a smile alongside his squad, but what he was seeing before him wiped the smile off his face completely, replacing it with a worried look on his face. Right here was an unknown being that is clearly pushing herself (a possibility, given the features it possessed) to the point of death. Thankfully the Sanitäter had been prompt in getting her onto a stretcher and trying to keep her from passing out. He had already called in a medevac, and all he can do now is investigate the area and wait for the heli-ambulance. She would probably be dead if they had to get one from Fort Portal, but by sheer luck one was already out in a valley two dozen kilometers north of this mountain plateau.

That was when he saw something that wasn’t there the last time anyone patrolled the mountain trail.

“Um, is it me or am I seeing a Black 12?” Adolf asked one of his subordinates as he looked towards the mountain, seeing two statues that weren’t there yesterday, “Because it damn looks like it.” The ‘Black’ code is a series of coded messages developed by Wolfenstein and disseminated to the military; they were there to ensure that few people knew what any squad had discovered and reduce the potential of someone stumbling upon it and killing themselves through something unknown or unexpected. Enough people die to a psi-memory already, and anything worthy to get a ‘Black Number’ attached to it can make the worst psi-memories look like a picnic in comparison.

“… you’ve got to be kidding me,” Rudolf Himmler answered back, “it is a Black 12. You better get HQ on the horn and tell them to send a Wolfenstein investigation team in ASAP.” That was when Rudolf walked towards the statues in question. “If I had to guess, these statues are guarding something.”

“Going off your grandfather’s fascination of the occult again?” Adolf asked as he sent the flash message, “If I didn’t know you so well, I would have thought that you believed in that stuff.” One of the sad things about the Himmler family was the fact that their name became synonymous with the occult. Heinrich Himmler, reeling from the death of his godfather Prince Heinrich and later the Great War of Resistance, joined an occult group a year after the end of the Great War of Resistance… the same cult he would later torture a few centimeters from death after they started spouting about killing the Jews. Heinrich would later start his own cult after his release, while he was climbing the ranks of the Federal Police.

“Given how much he liked to rattle on about how he became the man he was?” Rudolf answered, “He might have a point with some of his stories. He always told me and my siblings about the time a statuette in the guise of the Virgin Mary that only he could see appeared in his prison cell when he was jailed for mass torture. It was always watching him, pushing him to find his real self. Everyone thought he was suffering from a mental break, but the psychologists couldn’t find anything wrong.” Rudolf looked around, trying to find something. “He started his cult to find that statuette and what secrets it hid. Tobin’s Spirit Guide is essentially a document of everything they found while finding that statuette.”

“… that is scary,” Adolf commented, “you’re thinking that what the mysterious statuette is at work with the statues here?”

“Pretty much,” Rudolf answered, “and given that our mysterious patient pushed herself almost to death to get here, it means some serious business to her…”

“Serious enough to die for?” Adolf asked politely.

“Yes,” Rudolf answered, “it has to be. Whatever machinations that are happening here, we’re probably right smack dab in the center of it all. That much I know.” That was when Rudolf touched something and caused a reaction. “… we better get back.” The two quickly raced back towards a nearby boulder, hiding behind it for protection. A series of lines started to appear between the two statues. The lines twist and turned in an ornate glyph-like language before the two statues moved, opening a door in the process.

To say it was a frightening sight would be like calling a nuclear device a really big bomb.

“Um, sir,” Rudolf started, “you better tell HQ that we really need that Wolfenstein team. We’ve got what looks like a Black 12C on our hands…” Adolf didn’t need to be told twice…

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You would be singing another tune if you read my first fanfics that I've posted. Although, to be honest, I made the most improvement overall, at least compared to those old fics.