Elven Refugee Caravan, Somewhere East of Gim

Under the harsh glare of the sun, columns of refugees marched onward, hoping to reach Ejei. This caravan originated from a small Elven village, isolated from the events of the outside world and thus among the last to flee. Having only received word of Gim’s fall many days after the Lourian invasion, they evacuated as quickly as possible; there was no telling just how close behind the Lourians were.

Most of the refugees were children, women, and the elderly; the men were called up for war months ago. One of these refugees, Parun, was luckily still too young to be called upon by the Qua Toynian military. Now approaching adulthood, it was his duty to serve as a watchman and protect the caravan from any approaching Lourians. He was accompanied by several other teenagers, along with his little sister. Equipped with shovels and bows, they certainly stood no chance against any charging Lourians.

They walked for hours, trudging through the silence until Parun’s sister complained about the journey. “Parun, can we stop here for a bit? I’m tired.”

He gave a warm smile. “Asha, we’re not too far from Ejei. We just need to keep going, and in no time you’ll be able to have all the rest you want.” He then pointed in the distance. “See, we’re almost there!”

For a few short moments, the pair felt hope, seeing the promised land in the distance. This fleeting optimism faded as someone from the rear guard yelled a warning. “The Lourians are here! The Lourians are here!”

A crippling sensation pierced through the Elven refugees as they turned around to see a dust cloud forming in the distance. It seemed that their numbers approached a hundred, and despite being over three kilometers away, they closed the distance in record speeds. The slow caravan was bogged down by cargo and the villagers who did not own horses.

As they rapidly approached the panicking refugees, Parun steeled himself, turning around to face the incoming horde. He gripped his shovel tightly and stood his ground. Meanwhile, his little sister Asha knelt, tears flowing down her cheeks. Thinking back to the Tale of the Demon Lord that she and Parun listened to as kids, she prayed, “Please, O Star God, save us!”

As if her prayers were answered, the ground in front of her erupted into a fierce explosion, shining brightly like the stars. Then, similar magic occurred among the lines of Lourian cavalrymen, completely decimating them and sending chunks of meat and charred metal flying into the air. Parun led her away from the blasts as arrows of light flew toward the now-scattered and panicking Lourians. She breathed a sigh of relief at the irony of their fate, and of the blessing her prayers resulted in.

Looking up, she saw several sand-colored aircraft appear over the horizon. She made no sense of the objects’ design or the rapidly spinning blade on their tops. All she saw was a white star emblazoned on the machines’ hulls. “The emissaries of the Star God!” She grinned with delight.

The gasps of the elves and the shrieks of the dying Lourians alike were drowned out by the constant rain of light bullets from above. Weapons designed primarily for armored vehicles pounded the Lourian cavalry with ease, and within a few minutes, the stragglers were cleaned up.

Recovering from the chaos, the Elven refugees looked up at the sky, wondering what just happened. Several metal dragons roared past, causing many of the elves to cup their ears, while the machines from earlier continued to hover around. Then, from behind Ejei, they noticed several more of the rotor-bladed machines appear; these aircraft had two sets, instead of one.

The new arrivals touched down, unleashing dozens of men in a spotted, dirty-looking uniform from its underbelly. The elves cowered back in fear, confused and awed by the flying machines. Then, two of them walked toward the elves while the others formed a circle around the groups. In response, the elven village elder stepped forward.

A particularly bulky man introduced himself, speaking with a slight Southern accent. “I’m Corporal Baker with the United States Marine Corps. Y’all doin’ alright?”

“Yes, thank you, saviors from the sky.”

Behind the village elder, several elves stirred up a commotion, muttering about some ‘Star God’. They pointed at the emblem painted onto the helicopters. The village elder, sensing the rising feelings of his people, continued, “Are you, perhaps, the Emissaries of the Star God?”

Baker looked at the direction where the villagers were pointing, his eyes landing on the white star on the Chinooks. “Uh…” He looked at one of his buddies, who simply shrugged. “Sure.”

At this word, the elves began to act ecstatically, kneeling and praising them.

“Alright, come on now, let’s get outta here. Please get in the flying carriages…”

“But, to ride in the emissaries’ divine vessels is unheard of! We aren’t worthy!” The village elder protested.

“Aw, for fuck’s sake,” Baker muttered to himself.

His buddy chuckled, “Shit, dude. They’re really taking that worship thing seriously. Maybe it’s God apologizing for teleporting you butt-naked in front of the Colonel? You’ve got some fine ass elves giving you the googly eyes man.”

Baker rolled his eyes at the immature banter. “Nakamoto, you’re a real dickhead.” He then snuck a glance at the elven women. “Shit, you might have a point though. Alright, whatever, let’s just get these people in the air.” Turning his attention back to the elves, he put on his best authoritative voice. “Elven subjects! By the will of the Star God, you are to board the flying carriages and be escorted to Ejei! The Emissaries are very busy, and cannot dote around in these plains! Our men will take care of your belongings and bring them back once you’ve arrived!”

The elves, not willing to refuse the will of the Star God, complied and entered the Chinooks.

——

Lourian F.O.B., Gim

Having established their headquarters within a local lord’s mansion, the ranking officers of the Lourian Eastern Subjugation Army reaped the spoils of victory. Despite the lavish luxuries available to them, none of the officers were in a good mood. The recently promoted Lieutenant General Adem sat by a magic detector, accompanied by their top magician, Washner, the leader of the eastern vassal army, Duke Jean-Philia, and several lords.

Adem abandoned his infamous grin and instead adopted a more serious look, which was no less unnerving than his signature evil smile. “It’s already been half an hour since our scouts’ scheduled return…”

“Perhaps they’re busy enjoying themselves? They did report that they encountered a lone Elven refugee caravan. I wouldn’t be surprised if those brigands and criminals in the Hawk Knights abandoned their duties to satiate their primal desires,” Jean-Philia said. “I don’t even know why we employ such a dastardly group.”

“Because they provide results,” Adem said. “They may consist of the absolute scum of Louria, but even they wouldn’t abandon direct orders to report back. Something must have happened…”

Jean-Philia nodded. “On that, I do agree. Something is not right. We’re supposed to be fighting the inferior demihumans of Qua Toyne, are we not? We shouldn’t be experiencing such setbacks!”

Washner looked down as Jean-Philip said that.

Then, a door burst open. “Apologies for interrupting, sirs!” A messenger hastily reported.

“Speak,” Adem commanded, sending shivers down everyone’s spines.

The messenger trembled as he began the report. “Additional scouts have identified the location where the Hawk Knights disappeared. They discovered the burnt corpses of our knights, along with scars across the plains. The scars and craters are very similar to ones created by explosion magic or wyvern fireballs,” he said.

“Explosion magic?” Adem repeated. “Washner, the detector did not respond at all, did it?”

Washner stared at the spherical detector. “No, sir. The detectors in the magical watchpost also did not respond. If the Qua Toynians ambushed the Knights with wyverns, we would have detected them long ago.”

“Then… what happened? They couldn’t have just simply vanished, nor could such power devastate the terrain without us knowing of it!” Jean-Philia exclaimed.

“Oh! Oh goodness,” Washner suddenly said, his eyes growing wide.

“What’s wrong?” Adem asked.

“I—” Washner stammered, “I’ve heard rumors, but I don’t know how valid they are. Explosions without magic…”

“Please, get to the point,” Adem said, crossing his arms.

“Yes,” Washner said. “I heard from some friends from the Academy… These friends were in charge of monitoring the state of our navy and the wyverns sent to support them, but all they saw were our magical signatures blinking out, snuffed! So like I said, these are just rumors, with not much validity, but we lost our entire fleet and all wyverns. A thousand ships and hundreds of wyverns were annihilated, with the remainder of our great fleet surrendering to the enemy.”

“Why, the great fleet that was said to have been able to conquer Qua Toyne by itself? The same fleet that could have invaded the Parpaldian Empire? Not only that, but the same fleet of four thousand ships, backed by hundreds of wyverns?! That’s simply… impossible!” Jean-Philia put a hand on his throbbing head. Dizzy from the claims thrown about, he sat down and gulped some water.

Adem paced around, a frown plastered on his face. “Surely, there must be some mistake?”

Washner shrugged. “Perhaps. As I’ve said, these are only rumors, but we have yet to see the wyverns return or hear any response from the fleet.”

Jean-Philip still maintained an expression of shock. “No matter what, they should’ve rolled over Qua Toyne and reported back promptly. What could have possibly happened?”

“Well, the enemy ships —”

“No!” Jean-Philip interrupted. “I already know what you said earlier. What I want to know is what changed; Qua Toyne does not have the capability to even take down a percent of that grand fleet, nor do they have the capability to do something so drastic that none of the wyverns ever returned.”

Washner nodded. “Hmm, there have been rumors of mutiny, that perhaps the leader of the fleet, Vice Admiral Sharkun, was secretly a demihuman sympathizer. I don’t think this is true though. There are also other rumors of the new nation joining the war — the United States of America — boasting phenomenally overpowered weapons, almost on the scale of the Ancient Sorcerous Empire.”

The atmosphere in the room decreased as a frigid wave embraced the officers and lords within, causing them to shiver. “Haha,” Adem gave a nervous laugh, “That’s not possible. We would have seen the skies turn dark!”

“Regardless, it has also been said that their weapons gave no magical signature, at least nothing that could be detected. Even if their ships were filled to the brim with archmages, the ‘Light Arrows’ and other explosive magic they used are considered to be far beyond the magical capabilities of any known human or demihuman. The only explanation then would be the light-winged people, but even then we would have detected magic…” Washner trailed off. “I, um, I am completely lost in this matter. I apologize.”

Adem thought back to the orders the Eastern Subjugation Army received earlier. Providing some validity to the rumors Washner suggested, 50 out of the 150 wyvern knights attached to the army were recalled. Pushing these thoughts aside, he focused on the task at hand. “No matter, Washner. This… hearsay is of no use to us at the moment. We must focus on the orders I provided earlier; there will be no change in plan.”

Already bogged down by the unnerving rumors, the lords in the room felt as if Adem’s redirection of the meeting was like adding salt to their wounds. Despite seeing the evidence of large-scale explosive magic, they were still ordered to set up camp close to Ejei and commence their operation. What if the Qua Toynians unleashed their wyverns on them? Air support would be almost a half hour away, and by that point the Qua Toynian wyverns could simply retreat back to the safety of Ejei after demolishing half of the vanguard force.

With heavy reluctance, the officers of the Eastern Lords Division complied with Adem’s orders, fearful of the retribution to come should they refuse. Tasked to fight a numerically superior force entrenched behind a fortress, the 20,000 strong Eastern Lords Division represented the spear of the Lourian Army. The only relief for these commanders was the fact that reinforcements would be arriving soon, once the hundreds of thousands in their ranks finished assembling at Gim. Despite this reassurance, a shadow of doubt loomed over them like a specter; a reaper on a person’s deathbed. What horrors could the United States of America bring, if the rumors are true?