January 28, 1640

South of Tango Island (Ring Island)

1,300 miles north of Michigan

Fine sand composed a small buffer between the deadly rocks and the crashing ocean waves, building up a deposit as the erosion of the mountains continued. Undisturbed by civilization for thousands of years, waves parted as a small fleet of ships approached the strange formation. Maintaining their distance from the rocky coastline of the ring-shaped island, they prepared for an expedition into the lands sheltered within.

The USS America, escorted by a squadron of destroyers, stirred to life as two Ospreys from the 31st Marine Expeditionary Unit loaded up personnel. Selected for their prior combat experience in the Qua Toynian wilderness during the Lourian campaign and in the Siege of Topa, the two platoons departed from the ship. Intelligence gathered from overhead flights and satellite imagery made it clear that landing would be difficult. There were safe landing zones within the populated regions, but they couldn’t be secured due to a lack of manacomms on the island. The only other alternative was therefore the beaches of the central island, from which the escorted delegation would have to cross through miles of dense, monster-infested temperate forest.

As the Ospreys approached the beach, the sound of metal whipping the air rapidly scared off a flock of birds, causing them to retreat into the forest. Sand, leaves, and seaweed on the shore were swept aside by the powerful gales generated by the landing machines. They touched down on the sandy ground, as close as possible to the solid dirt near the forest’s entrance.

The Osprey passengers disembarked, led by Lieutenant Baker who quickly secured a perimeter around the landing zone. With guns raised, his men fanned out, forming a semicircle. Most were armed with Scar-H battle rifles, a precaution against monsters that standard 5.56 would have difficulty dealing with. They were further bolstered by assault and heavy machine gun squads, who packed enough firepower to wipe out flight of wyverns.

“Looks like we’re all clear, Mister Ambassador,” Baker announced to a suited man and his assistants in the Osprey.

“Lead the way, Lieutenant,” the massive Viking of an ambassador announced, emerging from the craft with a rifle slung over his shoulder.

Baker signaled for his men to move forward into the forest, wondering how a man like Ambassador Meyer got into diplomacy in the first place. Representing the archetype of adventurer with astounding success, Meyer pushed into the forest alongside him. Grumbling in slight disappointment, it was evident that the ambassador would’ve wanted to lead the formation. Begrudgingly, he remained in the center, abiding by procedures.

The deciduous trees and minimal brush allowed the Americans to move relatively easily through the forest. After traversing two miles without encountering anything more than an occasional deer, their eventless expedition was finally interrupted by a maiden’s shriek. The marines tensed up, raising their rifles and aiming at the trees.

Meyer sprung into action, pointing somewhere north. “It came from that way!” He announced, rushing to investigate.

Baker had no time to stop the ambassador, who already took off. Closely following suit, he cursed under his breath at the ambassador’s erratic actions. “Sir, we don’t know if the forest is safe!”

“If it ain’t, then we’ll make it safe,” he responded. “This may very well be our first contact, and I’d like to make sure that we have a good impression on the natives here.”

“Damnit,” Baker sighed. “Nakamoto, get a drone in the air ASAP,” he said in between breaths. He and the rest of his men continued to run with the ambassador. “Man, there ain’t a dang way this man’s running this fast,” he muttered in shock.

After a minute of sprinting, they reached the end of the forest, where they saw a woman running between trees, dodging attacks from a massive beast remarkably well. The hexapedal beast had a midnight-black hide and was about the size of a pickup truck. The most distinctive feature of the creature was its twelve horns, from which magical sparks emitted, destroying a tree that the woman ran past.

Ambassador Meyer, having reached the scene first, brought up his rifle and emptied the magazine into the creature, causing black blood to spill onto the trampled grass beneath it. The bullets impacted the beast’s thick hide to unexpectedly poor effect, failing to outright slay it. Enraged, the beast roared, turning its head toward Meyer. Having seen what the beast was capable of, he instinctively rolled out of the line of fire, narrowly avoiding an arc of blue light that eviscerated a tree behind him.

“Holy shit!” A voice in the forest called out.

Baker and his men emerged into the clearing, making their way around the destroyed tree to find Meyer taking cover behind a rock and reloading his weapon.

“Shoot the horns!” Meyer said.

Baker raised his shotgun, taking aim at the monster’s head. “Engage!”

The men behind him fanned out, taking care to maintain nonobstructive lines of fire before letting loose with their weapons. A barrage of metal battered the beast’s head, subsequently followed by scorching blue heat from Baker’s enchanted shotgun shells. Already injured from Meyer’s earlier attack, the monster was easily dispatched, with the first salvo gouging nasty holes where its head used to be.

Baker raised his hand. “Cease fire!”

The monster crashed into the floor with a resounding thud, its durable fur still smoldering from Baker’s weapon. Black liquid continued to ooze out of bullet holes, tainting the ground below and causing it to sizzle. Cautiously, Baker approached the creature and shot it again in the head, causing brain matter to splatter all over the ground beside him.

“Jesus,” Meyer commented.

Baker continued to stare at the monster. “Just gotta make sure it’s dead.” He then looked up at his men, satisfied with the monster’s lack of reactions. “Alright! Secure the area!”

As Baker walked over to Nakamoto to check the drone feed, Meyer brushed traces of dirt from his suit. While he adjusted himself, the woman he saved approached him.

“Thank you…” she said with a soft voice and starry eyes, her heart pounding like it was about to burst. “My hero!” She exclaimed, passionately hugging Meyer, much to his surprise.

“It’s no problem, ma’am,” Meyer politely returned the gesture. “Are you alright? Do you have any injuries?”

“Yes, I’m alright.” She let go after a few seconds, finally realizing the peculiarities about this man and his cohort of what she assumed to be mages. “You’re not from around here, are you?” She looked Meyer up and down, admiring his sleek suit and the peculiar black staff in his hands, then looking over at the woodland camouflage uniforms of Baker’s men in disgust.

He removed his combat vest and straightened his tie. “No ma’am, we are not. I’m Ambassador Meyer and we’re from the United States of America, a country outside the mountainous barrier. We’re here to establish contact with the citizens of this island.”

“Oh.” Her eyes drifted toward the beach. “I haven’t heard of any outsiders at all before…” She trailed off before making up her mind. “Well okay then! I’m Enecy Wysk, daughter of Duke Wysk of the Kingdom of Calamique!” She elaborated with a bubbly attitude. “To express my gratitude, I’d like you and your men to attend a feast at my family’s manor!”

Baker and his men, tired of shipboard meals and seafood, instantly perked up at the thought of fresh meals.

“I’d be honored to attend, Miss Wysk.”

——

The Wysk Manor was a beautiful Renaissance-era estate made of wood and polished stone, boasting columns in the front and a well-maintained garden with a fountain in the back. Meyer and his marine escorts were led through the estate, encountering decor and interior design many considered to be a blast from the past. They eventually reached a massive dining hall, which was large enough to fit the two platoons under Baker’s command.

While waiting for the food, Meyer engaged in small talk with the man in charge, Duke Wysk. “I wish to convey once more how grateful my men and I are for your hospitality.”

“Oh, on the contrary, good sir. You are the one who saved my daughter! Speaking of which,” he paused, noticing Enecy walking toward them in a fantastic white dress — one that made her outfit earlier pale in comparison. “Enecy! What did I tell you about venturing outside the confines of the city?!” He scolded her. “Why were you even out there in the first place?”

“I’m sorry, Father!” She looked down with a pout, hoping to lessen her punishment by taking advantage of her sorrowful, puppy-eyed expression. “I just wanted to collect some flowers for the Founding Festival…”

Duke Wysk sighed, unable to fight his daughter’s appearance. “All that matters is that you are safe now. I wasn’t able to hear the story earlier. What happened?”

Her expression suddenly changed to that of excitement as she looked at Meyer. The marines, noticing this action, chattered amongst themselves and even threw out a few wolf whistles. Meyer looked on with a smile as he felt a nudge from his right side from Baker.

Enecy recited the story from beginning to end, adding exaggerations here and there to emphasize Meyer’s heroism. Then, with an appraising tone, she concluded the story with a classic “happily ever after”. Staring right into Meyer’s soul, she stated with a smirk, “I always wanted a knight in shining armor, but a knight in a shining black suit is just as acceptable.”

Meyer continued to smile politely, showing too little for Enecy to read. “I’m flattered by your words, Miss Wysk.”

“Please forgive my daughter and her fantasies; she’s quite interested in stories and tales,” Duke Wysk barged in.

Meyer chuckled. “I understand. Stories like that are also popular back home.”

“On that note,” Wysk said, “Could you tell me more about where you’re from?” He eyed the peculiar clothing of the Americans.

“We’re from the United States of America. We’re northeast of the Rodenius continent, east of Philades, southwest of this island here.”

Wysk gave a look of confusion, tilting his head as he looked through his library of memories for the names. “Rodenius? Philades? I’ve never heard of such places. You claim that you’re from outside the island?”

Meyer replied, “Yes. We want to establish relations with the people of this island.”

“I see. I can help you contact our foreign affairs body, although a group of outsiders… That’s something we have never encountered before. We’ve had tales of old, of our ancestors’ journey into the island. They came from lands across the sea, but sometime after their settlement here a ring of mountains was erected. Unfortunately, most of our recorded history was lost in the turmoil that followed.”

“In that case, I hope we can help reintroduce your people to the lands of your ancestors.” Meyer reached into his briefcase. “I have a presentation prepared for your diplomats in this device here. I can show you some of it to help give a better understanding of who we are and where we come from.”

——

January 29, 1640

Wysk approached Meyer, who stood atop a balcony, admiring the garden. “Good morning, Sir Meyer. I once again thank you for saving my daughter.”

“Just doing what’s right,” Meyer replied.

Wysk was left in awe at the presence of the man before him, subconsciously approving of his daughter’s attraction to him. “I wish more people thought that way. Anyway, I have received news from the Royal Department of Foreign Affairs. They will be ready to receive you tomorrow, when they’ve finished with their deliberations.”

“Deliberations?” Meyer asked.

“This is a unique occurrence that has never happened before. Generally, we engage in diplomacy with the two other nations on this island. Never before have we encountered a delegation claiming to be from the outside. I hope this makes the delay understandable.”

Meyer nodded. “That’s okay.” He noticed Wysk’s nervousness. “Is there other news?”

“No.”

“Oh, okay. Pardon me, I just thought you seemed a bit worried.” Meyer let go of the issue.

Wysk let out a heavy sigh. “It’s… something else. A village on our western border was recently attacked by monsters. We lost hundreds of knights trying to evacuate everyone to safety.”

“My condolences,” Meyer offered.

——

Calamique Western Border

Flames raged through a quaint village, filling the air with smog and the sounds of despair. Monsters of various kinds, from large serpentine lizards to twelve-horned beasts, trampled the defending knights without much contest. Upon a grave of hundreds, only a dozen survivors remained. Brandishing their swords at the army of beasts, they were unwittingly cornered into a burning residence. With flames at their backs and claws in front of them, they prepared to give their final stand.

The monsters suddenly stopped, much to the confused relief of the battered knights. The supposedly mindless creatures then parted, creating an alley from which a single man strolled down. Clad in basalt-colored armor and wearing a similarly colored cape, he approached the defiant soldiers. His stern face looked stereotypically villainous, especially with his goatee. As he got closer to the knights, his face contorted into an evil grin.

Recognizing the man in the armor, some of the knights lowered their weapons.

“Sir Mauli? Mauli Hanmann?” Their commander asked.

“In the flesh,” Mauli smiled, spreading his arms in a grand gesture.

“Wha- why?!” The commander stammered out, his voice pained from the betrayal. He raised his sword again. “Why would you do this?!”

“The king has grown complacent,” Mauli sighed, shaking a fist at the sky. “He has become content with what little we have, closing his mind off from the glories outside. I warned him that calamity would come if we were forced to remain on this puny island. Wars will spring from overpopulation and a scarcity of resources, I told him. He never listened. And so, I act for the greater good; for the good of all of us!”

“You selfish prick!” The commander pointed his sword at Mauli.

Mauli noticed that the commander’s grip on his weapons tightened and his posture shifted, ready to charge. “I wouldn’t do that if I were you. Look around!” He gestured toward the monster’s on his flanks. “You’re surrounded. Outnumbered, outclassed, and out of luck. Well, almost out of luck. See, you’re lucky enough to be receiving my deal! Lay your arms down, submit to interrogation, and your men won’t have to be ripped apart, limb by limb, for monster food!” Mauli grinned like a maniac.

“I—” The commander stuttered, looking behind him. He felt his knuckles turning white from how tight he was holding the hilt of his sword, struggling to make a decision. Would it be the right one? “I surrender,” he said, letting go of his sword and shield.

The sound of metal hitting the ground graced Mauli’s ears as the soldiers dropped their weapons. “Wonderful.” He looked to his sides. “Secure them and prepare them for transportation to the base!” He ordered his men hiding between the ranks of monsters. He then walked away from the grisly sight, stepping over bodies while the alley closed, monsters filling the open space.

One of his assistants, a mage clad in dark robes, then approached him. “My Lord, what should we do once they’ve been interrogated?”

Mauli grinned, preparing a sociopathically enthusiastic response. “Oh, feed them to the monsters!”