The Palais du Parlement, was perhaps the earthiest building in Clovich has seen so far in Geneva. The city surrounded an entire pristine lake whose crystalline waters matched with the shimmering spires and neon lights that glittered the skyline. Once called the Palais des Nations by the UFE's predecessor, the United Nations, the building remained untouched outside of the occasional restorative works every so often by the UFE Government. The Palace is a white stone building situated in the middle of a park that oversees Lake Geneva with a clear view of the French Alps. Littering the grounds, the Tyr Rianni Mission saw dozens upon dozens of Flags flying highly above their flagpole horizontally.

He made several passing comments about so many of the quirks the Earthlings had that he observed based on his experience dealing with the folks of New Albany to Prime Minister Bousquet who has been escorting them on foot to the Palace ever since his arrival.

The Prince of Tyr Rian talked about how they were so religiously obsessed with Cleanliness, oftentimes refusing several articles of material unless sterilized based on his observations with Earthling Merchants interacting with his own. The Prime Minister's response is that Health is important to the Earthlings as it was one of their insights that allows them to remain physically and aesthetically superior compared to the more disheveled Ysanigrad Natives since Elves also have a similar albeit less refined conceptualization of personal hygiene. No wonder the Earthlings, even most surprisingly, their werytadan or commoners, who are just as fair as their affluent noblesadan.

When Clovich asked about all the strange contraptions and gizmos that litter Geneva's streets like metal carriages, their titanic spires and glimmering cloaks of iridescent light, Bousqet says that it was all the byproducts of years upon years of development. Not even the Elves or the Dwarves could match such technological might as Clovich recounts. He is a bit shaken by the incessant pelts of flashing lights that followed his every step. According to the Prime Minister, those are recording devices called 'Cameras'.

After walking down the green fields in front of the Palais du Parlement's grounds, Clovich saw at the end of the walkway a blue draped stage with a speaker's stand laying at the center of it. Behind the stage are flags, dozens of them all unfurled equally as they are mighty.

To think such a nation could command the allegiance of so much more was fantastical and justly terrifying to behold. Hearing and seeing the roaring and gazing crowds fixed to the strange man in the most wondrous interpretation of a Medieval Noble did make him quite flattered to be the center of attention for once. Tyr Rian was always overlooked for the more glamorous cities of the Empire like Haringpoint and Souviel who attract the more affluent of merchants and travelers. Now that he did question several of these marvels and is now currying to win these Otherworlder's favors, he will, he must learn what they know to his advantage.

"Please sit here Prince Clovich, the Prime Minister needs to make a speech before he introduces you to the entire world." Isabel gestured her arm to an unoccupied chair.

Clovich and two of his trusted bodyguards complied and took their seats as his guide instructed.

The Prime Minister meanwhile broke off from the Prince's vicinity and approached the stand, making one final check on his tie for maximum presentation for a high-profile individual such as himself.

"In the long history of Mankind, when we first ascended towards the cosmos centuries ago. There was one question that enamored artists, scientists and every child alike…" Bousquet began to speak.

The cheering crowd's silence as their gaze was fixed towards the UFE's Prime Minister.

"Are we alone in the Universe?" he phrased the ground-shattering question that heralds across all of the lands will mark as the beginning of a new age in Interstellar Exploration.

With one final swallow of courage after a brief pause of gasped onlookers, the Prime Minister continued his speech.

"On June 12, on the year of our Lord and Anno Domini 2218. The Colony ship the Eodem. Landed on Benham-3 to a planet we have first thought was to be an uninhabited continental planet with Earth-like qualities that were more than perfect to support human life. However, it was perhaps too perfect… Upon touchdown unto Benham-3, the Colonists have discovered the most… astonishing sight. An entire new world." The Prime Minister said.

The Journalists with their cameras, audio recorders and microphones roar in clamor with questions. The most common denomination being along the lines of the phrase:

What is the meaning of this?

Bousquet gestured his hands down to silence the Journalists again.

"We have discovered a brand-new world. The likes of which we could only dream of seeing. Magic, Dragons, Knights, and Castles as far as the eyes can see. The Colonists of the Eodem were shocked at first, but it dissipated quickly after because, for the first time We have discovered a world with intelligent alien life forms. However, instead of aliens with hyper-advanced or similar technology to ours the likes of Star Wars or even Mass Effect, we have discovered that a world of fantastical beasts, people and creatures where not Science, but Magic is the way of life amongst them." He said.

The Journalistic crowds up roared with questions as they ask:

How is this World possible?

"I know it is difficult to believe and I admit that meeting with an advanced alien race is more believable than what I have said but now we must press onwards to the fact that, yes, our wildest fantasies has become a reality and fairytale has come to life. Benham-3 has proved that our wildest imagination has come true."

Again, the onlookers roared with more questions than what the Prime Minister had answered:

Why is this possible?

"Our journey and exploration in Benham-3 so far have bear great fruit. We have learned more of these people, who are just like us in appearance yet somehow deviated beyond our current understandings of Creation. We learned how they live, how they conduct their lives without such a need of what we of the Federation too for granted, but most important of all, we learned how they conduct their special abilities to perform Magic. But don't just take my words for it, I know that in every new discovery needs hard evidence to prove its claim so I had invited a special guest who is a native of Benham-3 to introduce his magical homeworld to all of the United Federation. May I formally welcome, Prince Clovich Rian of the Principality of Tyr Rian."

The Prime Minister offered his hand to his Guest of Honor to step forward atop the centerpiece of the stage.

The Vassal Prince Clovich is extremely nervous about the scenario of having to speak in front of so many people. He knew from the accounts of Colonel Polonsky and Governor White that the United Federation is but multitudes of billions of people and all of the Empire was but only a small fraction to the larger Earth Human's population. The Prince himself has no problem of public speaking but only used to speak in front of a dozen people at best but speaking in front billions of people is utterly overwhelming. To make matters of his fear of public speech worse was the fact that virtually all of the Earth Human's, every single one of them from the lowliest peasant to the richest kings and to the youngest of children to the eldest of sages know how to read and write in their own language. He wasn't talking to a mass of Peasant looking to hear what the Princes' next edict will be, but a universal gathering of Scholars all united to gaze upon the Prince. Clovis can imagine what question they all had in mind:

Who is this Mystical Man in our Image? He who comes from his frontier home to our Inner Most Sanctums to curry our Favor?

It was now the moment of truth, all of his tension now at the balance as he slowly walked towards the Stand as his eyes were bombarded by the flashes of light from the strange men and their handheld gizmos. His face painted to an image of tensed stage fright. His mouth pouted as in his own mind. He is now addressing personally to what are essentially Gods to a Gliesian like him. For the Fate of his homeland, he must speak on their behalf and vouch for their blessing.

"They want to ask you some questions. Choose a person among them and entertain them." Bousquet smiled.

A sea of palms was presented to Clovich, all the eager Journalists hoping to have their multitude of questions be answered by the Otherworlder.

Clovich chose at random and picked a young woman who had the same shade of hair his sister had among them. The young woman stood up, her spectacles reflecting the other Journalist' flashing lights.

"What language did you speak in your world?" she asked. "How are you able to talk and understand us? In English?"

"I... I speak a language called Vaikuri." Clovich answered with an accent. To the reporters his speech was similar to an Italic-Hispanic sounding accent.

"I learned English through the help of a Mage that uses a magical spell that allows me to understand and even learn how to speak your language, this… English. Though, it does leave me with an awful headache right after the Enchantment." Clovich added.

The Journalists looked down at their notebooks and electronic devices and clicked away to record the Otherworlder's words.

"Next Question, pick a new one." Bousquet pushed.

The sea of palms reemerged in front of Clovich again.

This time, the Prince of Tyr Rian chose a grey-haired old man carrying him a small camera drone hovering above his left shoulder.

"The Prime Minister states that you are the first group of Natives they have encountered in Benham-3. Describe honestly, what do you think about our civilization compared to your… this… Slay-gee-yan Empire?" the Journalist asked with an awkward choke on the butchering of the Liege Lord that Prince Clovich bends his knee upon.

"When I first met Colonel Polonsky and Lieutenant Rose… I was at first dismissive of their capabilities. I had my fair share of many people where I come from who are all-talk and nothing to back it up with. I thought they were just a bunch of exotic mercenaries with a few gimmicks here and there. But now, after what they have done to my Realm, giving water, better roads and providing better safety through out my people. I have to say that you, Earth Humans have been nothing but invaluable to the Principalities continued enterprise." Clovich answered. "It is my hope that with this visit to your Home Plane of, Erf that I may be able to learn more ways of developing Tyr Rian and to strengthen Empire and Fe-der-ray-shon ties with one another." He added.

"Choose one more." Bousquet urged the Prince again.

Clovich, was starting to like the attention he was getting by these 'Gods'. He doesn't know if it was the opulent setting the UFE has provided for him or the flash of the camera's attention-hungry gazes to his person that made him smile from his initial seat of unease. With a proactive finger, he pointed towards a young man sitting far away from the chairs of seated Journalists whose hand was nearly blanketed by the sea of palms that his peers gave.

"Who me? Ah… yes… I am from Gaia's Crier." The man stood up. "Many of us in Gaia's Criers and perhaps all throughout the Ethernet doubt the authenticity of the videos spreading about."

"I beg your pardon?" Clovich asked.

"We believe that this 'Magic' that the UNOOSA Office is reporting is a fabrication, a lie to justify an increase for their budget." The man said.

"I do not understand this inquiry." Clovich twitched his eyebrow.

Just then, the Prince felt Prime Minister Bousquet's hand touch his shoulder.

"He thinks Magic in your world is not real." The Head of State bluntly explained.

"But it is!" Clovich exclaimed.

"Did you bring any Mages with you?" the Prime Minister asked. Sweat fell down from his wrinkled brow as his eyes widened to the Prince. The politician could even feel his aging heart skip a few beats.

"I see. Indeed, I did bring a mage." Clovich nodded, now understanding the question's substance.

He looked at his entourage, sitting on his right side silently but knowingly cheering him on with their thoughts, prayers, and smiles. Clovich scanned the aisles until his eyes met a purple topped old sage that he had known from his childhood that had served both his father and him ever since.

"Edmurl. I request your presence up here now." He ordered.

The wizened old man bowed his head and complied. He stood up from his seat and with the escort of one of the UFE's Security Personnel, he was guided to his lord's side. If one was the camera or simply observing this auspicious event live through one's own naked eyes or through a screen, Edmurl would look like your stereotypical 'Old Wizard'. He wore a dark-colored robe, loose and baggy in a fashion sense with a matching conical hat. Complementing his look was his withering face and long white and bushy beard. He carried along with him several articles native to his Gliesia specifically Tyr Rian, some smelling herbs attached to a spherical hearted necklace with holes that allow the herbs to protrude upward to his decaying nose. Edmurl's belt contained an assortment of quill pens, scrolls and even a small notebook which gave the man a rather Sage-like appearance upon first sight. He carried with him a tall staff that he uses both as his Magical Conduit thanks to the noticeable Mana Crystal attached to the staff's head and as a walking cane. For such an old man born into the life of a Medieval commoner, he was left in a state of awe at the sights of Geneva and Earth's many other technological Marvels just as what Clovich and the rest of the Mission had seen. It was if the gates of Heaven opened for all of them.

"This is Edmurl Mvaillel. My Advisor in everything that involves the Arcane and… as you asked, a practitioner into the Magical Arts." Clovich introduced.

"Explain for all of us to here. What is this 'Magic' that your world is so proud of?" the Gaia's Crier Journalist asked.

Clovich touched the old man's shoulder to shake off the wizened one's wanderlust.

"Ah yes… Magic where to begin? Where to begin?" the Wizened one pondered. His old mind was rusty to say the least.

"Talk about how Magic works." Clovich whispered.

"Ah, yes… Magic… In our world, Magic or in our tongue Gúl is sourced from the power of Mana Crystals like the one attached to my staff." Edmurl gestured his staff hand with a slight wave, emphasizing the blue glowing crystal at its top.

"Mana Crystals, the new Element that we discovered by our people in Benham-3. The 120th one if I read the reports." Prime Minister Bousquet commented. His hands grasping together like a student eager to learn from the teacher in front of him.

"What do you mean by Mana Crystals being Element? There's only five! Not One hundre---" Edmurl 'corrected' but he was cut off by a slight nudge of Clovich's Elbow to press on with his demonstration.

"Ah… so… Mana Crystals power our Magic. Some spells require certain ways to be able to cast them, verbally, somatically, the need for a specific material for some examples." Edmurl lectured.

"Can you show us some spells?" Bousquet requested with a euphorically suggestive smile.

"Certainly." Both Prince Clovich and Edmurl said in unison.

The Wizened one step back a few meters from his master and the host of this ceremony discreetly. Upon obtaining a good distance between himself and the center stage, Edmurl folded his floppy sleeves to reveal his withering hands that had tattoos of ancient arcane runes imprinted on the surface of his skin. He waved his left hands clockwise with the ring finger tucked by his thumb as the runes flash to light. Even his magical staff glow just as brilliantly as a flare of bright blue energy erupted from the Magical Crystal atop of the staff and wisped away towards the Speaker's Stand.

To the bewilderment of the crowd, the Speaker's Stand began to suddenly quake from its feet. To their additional awe the Stand was lifted several feet up into the air. At the same time Edmurl was flowing upon the rhythm of his body's direction in match with the floating stand.

"This is Mage Hand! I release a tuft of the Gui within my staff's Mana Crystal to allow me to manipulate objects. Such as moving them around, floating them and even other more delicate procedures like knitting and kneading." Edmurl explained.

A significant portion of the first-hand observing crowd bearing witness to this show clapped in applause. However, there were still just as many doubters upon such 'sorcery'.

"Anyone on Earth can do something similar to that. Show us more." The Gaia's Crier Journalist stipulated.

Carefully, Edmurl lead the Speaker's Stand down to its original position before he huffed. His pride, practice and a legacy being challenged, the Sagely figured took a deep breath.

"Step Back… and behold all of you… especially You." he exhaling with emphasis to the skeptical Journalist.

Inhaling again before concentrating his innate powers, the tattoos on his marks glow once again as Edmurl's chest slowly grew upwards with a rumbling sensation and a warm orange flow exposing the tinge of his lungs. He tilted his head back, stretching his throat skywards as he shouted:

"Naur Anor!"

Edmurl's voice reached to the heavens above as his breath ignited forth from his gorge. Exhaling the channeled magic within, a burst of fire release ten feet into the air, glowing the azure scenery of the UFE's colors. The crowd's eyes were enraptured by the Wizened one's flames. Going on over a minute, Edmurl continuously kept the flame alive. To the impression of the onlookers, he held no fuel to help quench the flames nor had an obvious means of ignition outside of his person. Indeed, it was if he was truly breathing out fire.

The crowd cheered after Edmurl dissipated the flames, harmlessly emitting an after smoke as above and so within the old man who's mouth steamed with the wake of the flames.

"That is Fire Breath. Not many people back in Gliesia can accomplish this without horribly scaring themselves." Edmurl bowed.

"Impressive!" Prime Minister Bousquet clapped.

"Indeed, for something even Street Performers can do…" the Gaia's Crier condescended.

"Still not convinced?" Bousquet looked at the sensationalistic skeptic.

He knew his kind too well. Always looking for an angle, a crack to destroy, diminish, and disrupt. But even then, this was already starting to push it.

"As I said, some people can do that too with some lighter fluid and a torch… even some exotic Augs can do that." The journalist explained.

"Oh… Sir Edmurl?" Bousquet twirled his head back to the old mage. "One more trick. Something that not even a Charlatan like him would have to believe. Something, nobody could fake." He requested.

"Something that nobody could fake? That's a challenge…" Edmurl became lost in thought. But his master, Prince Clovich tucked his robe.

"Remember that trick you did on Aria's seventh birthday?" Clovich reminded him.

"Oh yes, milord! I do remember that one. The smile on your sister's face." Edmurl smiled.

He promptly excused himself from the stage and went down. The Cameras of thousands of News Channels across all of the UFE's space followed him regardless.

Edmurl walked towards Ariana Park outside of the Palais du Parlement until he stopped on a patch of green grass resting upon some soil in the middle of field of green. With his bare hands, the wizened one clawed out half a dozen handfuls of dirt from the ground.

"What are you doing?" Bousquet asked? His demeanor shaking by Edmurl's coarse act.

"Be quiet… allow me to concentrate." The old mage shushed.

He then spat at the collected pile of dirt he had accumulated several times, much to the Prime Minister and the other witnesses disgust. Inciting more of their nausea was the mage's immediate action of sculpting by hand, mixed with his dirt, grass, and spit. Edmurl then began to chant repeatedly as he began to articulate his modest materials.

"Tul-na cuil!" He evoked repeatedly. It was a rather rhythmic display of his art in contrast to his ramshackle arrangements.

He formed an ovoid body at first, he then proceeded to form five appendages around its clay-like body. One thick appendage with a slight bend over forming a bill shaped head and four thinner appendages with a circular bottom at its feet. Two appendages on the same side as the thicker appendage, while the other two appendages rested across with upon the side without. Clovich and the Prime Minister knew from the wizened one's handicraft that he was forming a horse out of the muddied soil out of Ariana Park. It was barely considered one in their eyes at it lacked its waving mane and trembling tail but it was rather impressive for one to form in a span of five minutes for Edmurl.

"Tul-na cuil, Roch!" He powerfully worded as his Tattoos glow to life again. The Magic Crystal flare another emission of its energy towards the clay figurine Edmurl forged with his two hands.

The figurine ascended to live as its four legs articulated. The Earthen Horse galloped upwards and ran wildly across the green fields of Ariana Park. The Cameras gave chase as the animated yet pint-sized horse galloped majestically on the Palais' front yard.

There was no more room for doubt anymore, all were left captivated at Edmurl's one-two-three demonstration. From the youngest of children to the most antique elders, their wonder was captured more of this new 'Gliesia' that this Prince Clovich talks so eminently of. Already the word had spread across all Media of this never before seen phenomena. Even then, Journalists swarmed Prime Minister Bousquet and Prince Clovich with a barrage of questions as they erupted with their inquiries.

Do Elves, Dragons and Fairies Exist?

What are Mages capable of?

What is life like in Gliesia with the existence of magic?

The Prime Minister and Prince Clovich answered as much as they could of their commentary and insights to the fantastical world of Gliesia as the former lead the latter and his entourage deep into the chambers of the Palais Du Parlement. There was much more work to be done outside of entertaining the masses, much to Bousquet's acute plan, this is only just the releasing of the floodgates. And now he has to make his move fast, less other more unscrupulous folks beat him to it…

-------------------------------

"That was… surprisingly smooth." Major Holyfield's nightly eyes widened.

"Is it not too late that I knew he could do it?" Governor White said to the Major.

"I honestly also thought he would have to lean on the Prime Minister for most of everything." Colonel Polonsky commented.

The two UFEAF Generals sat together again with Governor Jeremy White at his office, overlooking the live broadcast of Clovich's public introduction to the whole Federation. But it was more of just simple pleasantries for the welcoming of a special individual. That moment will be bookmarked into the annals of the history books as a new age in Space Exploration. But with Gliesia's true nature lay bare for all the public to see, this brings out the possibility of a whole new cocktail of potential problems, hazards, and factors coming into play…

"Well, then gentlemen, our doubts of the Prince's capabilities with courting the Wigs back home have dissipated. Already I am seeing hashtags popping up about that old wizard guy's magic in Social Media." The Governor chuckled as he looked at his Smartphone.

Already hashtags ranging from #realmagic , #fantasyworld and #gliesia were now trending upwards across all platforms. People simply couldn't believe their eyes, all of their thoughts, all of their imaginations were indeed real in another world. But as word spreads, so does people's intentions for what they wish to do upon this new revelation.

"You know, the Wigs can't delay this any further soon…" Holyfield turned his cold gaze at the Governor.

"I know Major. That is why we need to make as much ground as possible." Governor White acknowledged.

"But what about the Empire? You have seen what they can do and our actions could result in an equal response from them. They are not going to take what is essentially our intrusion. If worse comes to worst, he may be already mobilizing his armies as we speak. I mean, you have seen what they were about to do in Souviel Holyfield." Colonel Polonsky gave his opinion.

"And you have seen what just happened to Doctor Mahelona and Lieutenant Rose? They have been branded with this… this… whatever those brands on their bodies are and already my Political Officer and I are already breathing down both of their necks for even the slightest hint of them going rogue… or worse. What is it that I personally oversaw Operation Bakumatsu Colonel?" Holyfield shot back.

"The Capital is where the Emperor is and the seat of Government of the Empire. Your little stunt could have actually turned this little 'territorial misappropriation' into a possible War!" Polonsky argued.

"Which is all the better we return to Haringpoint and seize it! We have all the reasons in the world to take it. Plus, according to our local assets, there house an artifact called 'the Sacred Heart' that can allow us to further study these brands that Mahelona and Rose have gotten. We just need to cut the head off of the snake fast. This Prince just propping up some brownie points with the press and the locals. But even then, he is limited to just his place, maybe his cousin and the Dwarves." Holyfield said.

"He WILL learn our ways Major, one way or the other. Inevitably, the Empire capitulate to us. Its how they will lose is what we have to worry about. Fortunately, we have the cards to control that." The Governor Reminded. "The Prince is our best and only shot and making this war less bloody than it needs to be. They think we are 'Demons' yet to him we are 'Angels'. These natives will only ever accept him as their Ruler and NONE of us. If we have to make the least likely man in all of the Empire into the next Emperor then so be it. He is one of their own after all by their blood."

"Are you sure this plan with Clovich will work?" Holyfield asked. "I have seen folks like these before White! There is no reasoning with them. They are like a spark that eventually becomes an inferno. They will stick to whatever words their masters would say and gladly march down to Tyr Rian en masse to kill us all." Holyfield argued.

"I have to agree on you on 'the Masters' part Major for this one." Polonsky nodded.

"Gentlemen, all you think of is war and the next battle. That is your jobs is it not?" White asked the two of them.

The Major and the Colonel nodded quietly.

"My job is to win this Benham-3 for the Federation and ultimately this war. My Plan remains that Clovich will learn of our society, our power and technology and when he returns, he will be our foundation to expand outwards to the rest of this planet." The Governor pushed.

"The Legions are after us, the Mage College are going to try and blast us, the Adventurer's Guild is finding ways to harass us and their Church is preaching against us. Pray tell, Governor but the Odds are stacked against us even if we will win." Polonsky argued.

All three men in the room sulked down, they care for their reputations within the political bureaucracy of the Federation. Polonsky and Governor White cannot stomach the idea of being slaughterers of an entire Primitive Civilization as it would taint their reputation and the Common State Party's throughout the Federation and undo the Reformation that got them into their positions in the first place. Holyfield was far more pragmatic as his reputation as of being the CSP's Cover Man of being the Vanguard of the Party's military might would be put into a negative light if he butchers defenseless people called 'Adventurers' that by the UFE's standards of the Rules of War would be considered in between the lines of a civilian and an Irregular Unit (with the scale tipped next to the former). The Party's reputation among the dissident folks of the entire nation are now resting on the hands of all three of them now that they are in the forefront of this new world and now their names will be scrutinizing with the little luxury of a convenient 'cleaning' job by the censors. They also knew that history will judge them for their actions on what their next course of action is next.

"With all that you said Polonsky," Holyfield broke the silence. "this is why we should march on them before they march on us!" Holyfield gaveled Governor's Desk. "I already have a plan in mind for a quick and the decisive capitulation of the Empire. I call it 'Operation Haymaker'."

"You do? Go on then Major. Explain this 'Operation Haymaker' of yours." Governor white clasped his two hands together forward, now intrigued.

"A Multi-Pronged assault across the border of the Principality. I studied the maps and dug some intel on the Core settlements of the Empire." Holyfield said. "The good news is that thanks to the Mountain's the Empire will only have one way of getting to Tyr Rian which is a fortress after Vercourt on the road. I hear that is fondly called 'Little Hill'. It is a sizable fortress and the strongest point that the Empire can use to defend itself before we can touch their territory proper. If an entire army is to march down on Tyr Rian then it is to be there. A mechanized assault will be the answer." Holyfield said.

"So, knock the fort and move on?" Polonsky asked.

"Not exactly Colonel, let me explain." Holyfield answered. "Speed is key, the longer this war happens the greater the heat the Party and us will have. We have the advantage of fire power and maneuverability and the luxury with… admittedly…'help' from Aparo Corporation. The theory is to create a new vulnerability to catch the enemy off balance and then with one blow strike its heart before it has the time to react." Holyfield said.

"Then what happens to Little Hill?" Governor White said.

"We Double Envelope. Trap as many Slaegian Legions inside the Fort and then just continue onwards to the reality of this operation. Here takes a look…" Holyfield placed his tablet on the ground.

It was a satellite map of the entire Empire, with settlements and major road networks highlighted out.

"After Vercourt and Little Hill is a quaint little place near the center of the Empire's heartland called 'Neugonia' by the locals. It's a transition point where goods, people and other stuff pass by and go to reach wherever they are needed to be."

What Polonsky and White noticed is that the location based on the map was the most interconnected area in all of the Empire's core, not even Tyr Rian can compare to this place. Its also not a town nor a settlement per se, but a very interconnected province of the Empire with nothing more three major road networks, one heading north to south and another west to east, and the other diagonally slashing north and the eastern ends.

"My reports say that outside of a few walled farming estates, this place is essentially open country," Holyfield said.

"Indeed… we get boots on the ground and all of the Slaegian Empire is ours to march on." Polonsky nodded. "But how will this force a quick surrender? Medieval Folks would barely notice this until we are already knocking on their front door." The Colonel questioned.

"Neugonia's capture is just the rope for the Empire's noose. A Tactical and Operational goal essentially speaking. For the full weight to have everything crash down on them we need a Strategic Objective. We need to decapitate their Leadership, Haringpoint itself." Holyfield coldly said.

"That's the second part of your plan?" Governor White asked in pursuit of the Major's line of thinking.

"Indeed," Holyfield confirmed. "Thanks to our little friendship with the Duke of Souviel, I can easily sneak in a battalion or two of my Marines into Souviel and blitz it for the Capital on the ground whilst the Aurora will support them from the skies. Their task is to seize the Capital of the Empire whilst most of their army's attention is in Little Hill. We need to make them think our main attack is by the border of Tyr Rian when actuality our killing blow is straight to their Nerve Center. Haringpoint herself." Holyfield said.

"Hang on, I think I know what you are trying to pull off… a… Deep Battle Doctrine do they call it?" Polonsky raised his hand.

"Yes, a Soviet Battle Doctrine of creating and then driving the knife deeper on breakthroughs. Key word, 'create'." Holyfield oscillated.

"Sounds like a plan Major, a Great Plan. But we will have to wait for Clovich to return from Earth. My biggest concern is the transition. I have no idea how the Empire react when one of their Vassals takes up the Imperial Throne." White pondered.

"It's best we allay any… uncontrolled considerations with more planning. I say we redouble our efforts with my Studies and Observation groups. We got the Dwarven Mountains, the Easter Deserts and Zatrek with us. Let's push the envelope further and see where they can take us." Polonsky said.

"Agreed." White nodded.

"Hold on a moment, Colonel, you actually reminded me something… about the Dwarves… eh specifically Lutheor Mirrien. It's about Lieutenant Rose, you read the reports, right?" Holyfield raised.

"Yes, poor girl." Polonsky solemnly lowered his head.

He had read that Samantha has been transferred to containment unit deep inside Mahelona's Underground Science Laboratory for several experiments. He was initially suspended in disbelief when one of his own Team Leaders of the SOG's he is in charge of displayed magical powers similar to Aliathra and Iris' abilities. However, a report by the Doctor's observations says that if she is to take too much of the Mana energy inherent from the Unbinilium crystals, she could disperse copious amounts of harmful radiation if her energy reserves are left unchecked.

"Yeah, Doctor Mahelona too. But besides that, the materials we need to build that special suit to better control her powers are in the Dwarven Mountains. We can send some teams over to retrieve them and bring it all back to New Albany for his special project. The Codename is 'Witchwood'. It's a collaborative effort between our scientists and… sheesh… Aparo engineers…" Holyfield said with a drop of disdain from him when he mentioned the Mega Corporation.

"I know our alliance with Aparo Corporation has made things awkward for most of the General Staff but we have made deals with the Devil beforehand. If we are to survive, we need to let the monsters inside the house for even just a moment. But even then… Even Devils can be cheated…" Governor White smiled.

He has placed his faith on the Prime Minister that the Megacorporation Influence, Aparo or otherwise can be curbed…

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Marxian pushed away the Firen Guards of the Imperial Capital in his dirt, sweat and wear and tear of his travelling apparel. In deep contrast to the elegant showmanship the guests, the servants and their security in full display. Brushing off the brief scoffs of the elf's revolting exhibition, the Sefydliad Agent dove into the sea of partygoers in search of someone.

"Lyndis." he bowed to his superior.

The Elven Spymaster, the Ethuilen Ambassador attached to Haringpoint and none other than Emperor Uldin himself, standing opulently in his blue and golden silver-lined robes alongside his crown that is domineered by various gems, some decorative, some magical. To say the Emperor was appalled by Marxian's dilapidated presentation. Sticking out his tongue in front of all the prattling nobles and influential personalities.

"Ser Marxian! You are in no way in the acceptable conditions to present yourself to esteemed guests or to our honorable host." Lyndis reprimanded.

"My Apologies herdir. But I bring the most urgent news." Marxian said.

"Can you not wait until after the banquet? You are upsetting my guest." Uldin conveyed.

"Souviel has fallen." Marxian candidly apprised.

The chatter of affluent festivity was instantly spoiled upon the cursed words that fell on the Emperor's and Lyndis' ears. The Militaristic folks were left frozen, their eyes widened in disbelief, while the drunken Mercantile family-run guilds spat out their spirits, all the rest simply dropped whatever activity they were doing as the turned to the Emperor and the gravely informing Elven Messenger. Even Faithleann, who was across the hall introducing himself to his sponsors and supporters was left stunned upon the audition of Marxian's news. All aspects of exorbitant appetites, decadent play, and courtly romance disappeared in that instance.

"What do you mean… Souviel HAS FALLEN?" the Emperor's voice raised to an acrimony.

"It was horribly milords and miladies. The Demons… the Otherworlders…

"How! How can you let Souviel fall! You Sefydilad are supposed to be the pinnacle in fighting Arcane Creatures." Uldin roared, not accepting the fact that his plans of keeping this crisis under control in his Court has failed in the most unexpectedly damaging way possible.

"Forgive me your Highness and Herdir. We tried our best but the Otheworlder's strength was simply too much for us to dispense with. Even with the support of the Grey Order and Chief Tax Collector Gresgi Jodent it was simply not enough. I am the only one made it out alive, all Sefydilad agents, Grey Order adventurers, Jodent and his men, as well as the people in the Embassy back in Souviel have all perished."

"No! You mean all our men, elite warriors, embassy staffs and even ambassador Thelanil were all ... all...killed…?" Lyndis tore the lapels of her formal dress.

"How many of my Fellow Guildsmen were killed?" Petur queried.

"About a Legion's worth. All gone in one night! During the Chwartiadd the Demon's had massacred them all as they drank and danced. The Embassy tried to fight back but they fell into the knight by Red coated Demon." Marxian slyly deceived.

In truth, his words were meant to be as provocative and fearmongering as possible. He knew that these Otherworlder's 'invaded' the Port City through far more subversive means. When he had chanced upon the surviving Embassy Staff who relayed to him, of how much not only how the Demons had unraveled their plans but shockingly the most, how far Princess Aliathra had fallen by the sight of her metal legs and the way her new 'heart' beat still without a cuil mán , a life force and how they managed to escape to his astonishment they were let go by the Red Demon upon the request of the Princess herself. At first, Marxian didn't believe it, but when the survivors allowed their tongues to slip about how the Princess did not try to devour their souls that the Sefydliad agent accused them of being corrupted themselves, like a contagion that spreads amongst carrier to carrier, Marxian cut them all down quietly in their sleep before he departed for Haringpoint. Lyndis nor the rest of the Institute must know of this sinister turn.

"How can they defeat so many and so quickly?" Lyndis asked.

"It has seemed that the Demons were able to not only penetrate the Duchy's defense but have even managed to proudly wave their many ringed banners on the same night without as much as a battle!"

"This is terrible news. The Demons are acting faster than we thought." The Ethuilen Ambassador to Haringpoint despaired.

"I hope that Duke Thibault managed to either escape or go down fighting…" Owyne bowed his head.

"No, far worse I am afraid." Marxian refuted. "The Duke has been seduced and has been corrupted by the Demons."

The entire room gasped for air upon his revelation.

"We attempted to fight back, but the demons revealed our attempts to counter this betrayal to remove him from power. With his mandated powers, he expelled many of us out of Souviel violently. As I said, I am the only survivor of our attempts." Marxian said, faking his lamentations.

"This is an outrage! We must fight back immediately." Emperor Uldin rallied with a fire in his aging heart.

"Indeed! I will marshall the men." Commander Huguet said. "How large is this Demon force that came to Souviel? Surely even with powerful magic, they must be large enough to take impregnate the Port city with the Knight's Errant and your troupe. Besides, your people should have at least killed some of them thanks to your expertise in Holy Magics."

"If my memory serves me right, in actuality, the demons only have no less than thirty of their warriors when they conquered Souviel. Our combined Sefydilad, Grey Order, Elite Elven Knights along with the embassy staff are at least 500. They slaughtered everyone and we...w-we...failed to even lay a finger on one." Marxian meekly replied.

"I can't believe you allowed them to just simply make a fool out of yourselves with your gross Hundreds of you cannot kill even a single one of the demons!! And yet you have the audacity to report your pathetic failure to everyone here? What a pity!" Faithleann mocks Marxian heavily much to the horrified and revulsion of all the witnesses at the party.

"Careful with your mouth boy! The Otherworlders are more powerful than you think." Marxian shot back at this young man's insult of his own and institutions reputation in the arts of securing success. "One of their most powerful Demons was strong enough to take down the Rainbow Helms armed who were armed to the teeth with nothing but his bare hands." Marxian forewarned, remembering the herculean strength of that one Otherworlder who bore a peculiar and expository garment called 'armor'.

"You surely lie to cover your incompetence! What a bunch of pa---" Faithleann continued to mock then suddenly experiences a big pain in his cheek which he realizes that Lyndis just slapped him

"You have no right to mock my men like that. you have no idea what my men and I have faced against the demons!! So, shut up and listen." Lyndis pointed her finger to express her antipathy.

"You dare to slap me? I am a chosen one here!" Faithleann gathered his wounded newly found pride and glared at the White Elf. "I do hope to defeat the Demons!! I demand you to---Ahh!" Faithleann stops as another slap from his other cheek appears, this time is from Mita the Crow.

"Can you for once listen to us? Chosen One~?" Mita spoke in a mocking tone. She was honestly starting to get sick and tired of this young boy's hubris. "My people and I went through the same ordeal like the Sefydilad back in Tyr Rian. The Demons are too powerful that not even in my long experience as a Rogue could prepare me to face them. I lost almost all of my Crows without even laying a finger at them. So, behave yourself Chosen One~, you must know who you are facing to not suffer like my Crows or the Sefydliad." Mita knocked some sense into the brash young boy with her own brand of sly sarcasm directed on his new found status.

In the Crow Master's experience, Faithleann was acting like a bratty noble who let their Status and Wealth get into their heads.

"One moment, Lyndis, this is him?" Marxian's eyes widened as he turned to his Spymaster who only silently nodded.

The young boy in Knightly Armor was the Chosen One of the Sacred Crystal Heart's choosing. This juvenile chutzpah is going to be the 'Bane' of the Demons and the Savior of the World? Within Marxian and Lyndis lurk a disdain for the young boy, they did, however, catch themselves in the moment when all eyes darted towards them and practiced restraint. In-fighting will achieve nothing today.

"I also bring more grave news." Marxian bowed again while clasping his two hands.

"What could possibly be worse than a city overrun with Demons?" Uldin asked.

"The Princess, Young Aliathra of the Lareththor line, was spotted in Souviel… she was… leading the Demons into the City." Marxian lied.

His little rendezvous with the surviving Embassy Staff of Souviel gave him very horrifying accounts on the Princess' appearance in the Jewel of the Draguitoise coast. This causes Lyndis to turn pale while intriguing the rest of the onlookers. The Elven Spymaster had learned little of what became of her old classmate. She only prayed that the wilds of the land gave her swift death so she maybe returned to the soil as Neneth's words say: From earth, you came, thus to the earth, you will return.

"One of the Lareththor line? This is terrible news." Owyn desponded.

He knew full well that the Lareththor's were one of the proudest bloodlines of Magically-Adept mages in all of the known world. Their kin produced some of the best Mages the Ethuilen Entente had to offer able to perform the spells of widely differing Schools of Magics. The family were considered an icon and a major sponsor of the College from the very beginning. He had heard of stories from his still-seeing days of how Princess Aliathra's achievements from the College's sister institution, Parvia's Ivory Tower Academy.

"I cannot believe it. She has fallen so much… where did we go wrong?" Petur sulked down.

"I share your plight Petur. We simply cannot take more of all of this." Lyndis expressed her solidarity.

These Otherworlder's have made all of their people's recent defeats oh so more personal. She silently swore to herself that she will tear down these Otherworlder's by any means that she could and know how to do.

"How will I tell this to her Parents?" the Elven Ambassador mourned.

"You may allow me. I am a personal friend of the Royal Family. It's best I relay of her passing." Lyndis volunteered.

"May Tivna guide her." The Nobility collectively mourned.

A moment of silence was given for everyone to Mourn for a young woman whose life was dashed away so suddenly. Hearing of the Princess' demise and the possession and corruption of her body, made Faithleann boil with rage. He will gladly avenge this Princess or if possible, rescue her soul from the maws of these Demons so she may rest in piece and have the White Elves' eternal gratitude. He could already imagine the immaculate Elf maiden (or just an image of the most beautiful woman imaginable) twisted into a parody of metal and flesh with black eyes and claws seething with heinous intent to spread itself until all that is beautiful in Gliesia is wiped clean. This time, there will be no shortage of Volunteers.

"Now is the day and now is the hour milord." Owyne stepped in. "Today Souviel, Tomorrow could be Haringpoint."

All around the Emperor, from his best and brightest to the most accomplished and influential members of his court and inner circle began to gather around Uldin, encircling him in a council of his entire cabinet. He saw his ministers standing alongside Ambassadors and Diplomats

"We must march down to Souviel and retake it from these Barbarians at once." Owyne said.

"We must also march down to Tyr Rian and put down the traitorous Prince Clovich at once. We should divide our forces into two. One will march down to our Fortress near the border which will contain the main bulk of our men while the rest will reclaim Souviel before the Demons are allowed to gain a foothold." Huguet counseled.

"Yes, yes, pose a blockade between us and Tyr Rian. We must accept that our Border Vassal is lost now. How many of our forces should we allot and how long could it take to get them all?" the Emperor asked.

"If I remember, including the Garrison already inside Little Hill, I say we can attach about sixty-five thousand troops within or at nearby Neuogonia and Vercourt. I can tap into our existing reserves and with your blessing enforce conscription on several of our provinces." The Commander of the Legion declared.

"We can just have the Slavers step up their raids on the Southern Colonies and the Eastern Deserts." The Emperor coldly said.

"The Mages of the College will stand by your side and await any order. Research or for Combat, we will provide."

"We will assist you just as we have always." Lyndis stepped in. "I can easily dispatch an army of the Entente's best soldiers alongside led by none other than Prince Valorion Lareththor, son of King Aslan Lareththor."

"As for Clan Kur Faldhur, you will need weapons. Lots of weapons that we can provide. Iron, Silver, Stone, Actocolite and Scandanite too." The Dwarven Diplomat added.

"That is more than enough." Uldin smiled. "And Faithleann… you… you already know what to do." He pointed to the Chosen One.

"Go to Little Hill and beat back the Demonic Hordes! Of course, I will do." Faithleann jumped quite over enthusiastically for everyone in the room for such a clamorous time like now.

"After you get you and your party the Weapons you need from the Dwarves. I will be sending you and the people I have provided to the Ostalroc Mountains and obtain the Actocolite and Scandanite ores which will be forged into weapons! You will need it. Treat the gifts that the Empire has given you with care. The fate of the world rest on you and the other two Chosen Ones." the Emperor notified.

"Follow me and Petur's advice and we will get through this together boy." Marchog Gratianus Faughn nodded fatherly.

"May we… provide a say in this?" a grumbling voice emerged from the crowd.

To everyone's surprise, the source of the voice was from a Daosne Shaman of the lupine Volyudi tribe who had earlier visited the Haringpoint alongside his feline Kotyayudi and the Taurus Bykalyudi colleagues on their self-imposed investigation on the so-called 'change in the winds'. Their crude garments and the smell of animalistic fur permeate the pleasant aroma and atmosphere of the halls of the Imperial Palace. Some of the attendants from the sophisticated elves and slightly less decent folks of the Human Nobility gagged at their wild visages.

"The winds flow curiously and the earth bewails every day ever since me and my fellow Shamans left our villages." The Volyudi said his word.

"Forget it Beastman!" Faithleann dejected. "You should just all stay out of our way. Everyone in the College and in Alfel-Nora knows that your 'magic' called Shamanism is weak." Faithleann belittled.

Several of the Slaegian upper classes quietly joined in Faithleann's aspersion of the malodorous Beast Folk that had dared display themselves in the Haringpoint, the very heart center of their 'hated' enemies.

"It is not weak, Distinct." The Volyudi Shaman said.

"Why are you here Beast Folk? To ask for your 'Ancestral Lands' back?" Emperor Uldin asked.

"No, this is more important than ancestral squabbles. We had heard of the Eternal Sky screaming and the Earth becoming sorrowful. These Outsiders, the upset the balance of the world greater than anything this world has seen in its annals of its antiquity." The Shaman said.

"Which is why we are going to Little Hill and destroy them don't you get it on your dim barbaric brain of yours?" Uldin said.

"You are like a mountain, tall and imperial. What the Winds whisper to us is like a Flood a deluge… we will not survive if you proceed like this further. Flow is required…" the Shaman forebode.

"What do you know of War? Beast Folk?" Faithleann asked with his voice raised and seething with discrimination.

"And what do you know of composure? We heard your reckless gloating moments ago. Showing your Offeryn like a child would brandish a new toy." The Shaman said.

"Pardon me but I am the Chosen One here?" Faithleann beat his breast upon this aggrievement.

"How is that a defense? You lack compunction." The Shaman bluntly discharged.

Now with his ego scorned, Faithleann stepped forward leaping his knee towards the Shaman and with the conjunction of his index and middle finger of his right hand let loose a lightning bolt at the Shaman. He was not going to let this detractor get away with such a misdeed. All such Barbarians just never understand the Empire and what it stood for.

Yet the Volyudi Shaman smirked, the Human's attack was wild with all of its power over sheer strength. No Subtlety, just raw Power for its own sake. A critical mistake.

Calmly, the Shaman waved his hand into the air and as the bolt struck his hand harmlessly. In a split second, the Beast Folk redirected the Gui of the Chosen One's attack right back at him sending the young boy flying back a couple of feet on his bottoms.

"Why you! I will---" Faithleann recoiled as he prepared another magic spell, but as the energies conjured around his hands, the Gweninejar felt a force wrap around his body on every inch and on every limb. He tried to move but the said force stopped him in place. He was Paralyzed!

"This is all pointless!" Owyne shouted. His hand thrust forward as runic symbols projected on his arm. It was a Hold Person spell he cast on the Chosen One.

"Grandmaster!? What are you doing?" Faithleann asked.

"Shamany! I apologize. I think it is time to take your leave." Owyne turned to the Daosne.

The three Shamans humbly bowed to the Grandmaster, turned tail and left quietly. But before the Volyudi stepped away from the boundaries of the Banquet Hall's grand doors he looked with his astute slit eyes at Faithleann who was promptly released from the Hold Person spell that his colleague by practice relieved him of the inconvenience of. The Lupine humanoid scoffed at him dismissively as he walked away.

The young boy was debarred from pursuing the Beast Folk Shamans further by the timely intervention of the adults whom he had unceremoniously disparaged.

"I want my Cadfridogion y Lleng and the Arglwyddi Cyfraith of Haringpoint to my study immediately. This is war." The Emperor ordered.

All nodded in agreement. The Legionary Generals and the Arglwyddi Cyfraith or the Law Lords, a group of Nobles in charge of the day to day Law and Order of every Duchy in the Empire from the Courts to the foot patrols and the firemen. This sub-class of Nobility is often a place where one can achieve much honor and prestige that is equally meritocratic between Noblemen and Commoners alike. One such Marchog Gyfraith, a Law Knight, was a reputable young woman of unkept allure blonde hair and green eyes with a silvery yet slightly stained armor by the name of Haelioni Elussenol, a former Orphan who grew up with a firsthand account of many great injustices brought forth by the abused, the lost and the mutilated of her city Haringpoint's slums. This gave Haelioni or 'Hael' by her friends and 'little siblings' back at the Orphanage situated near the Grand Cathedral a notable sense and desire of justice and parity to cleanse the streets of moral filth and decay in the cobblestone streets of the city and if she played her cards correctly, she believed she can make a difference beyond the Capital's walls. She was tutored by the Nuns who administer the Orphanage on the belief of the Feudalistic harmony and austere social leagues especially the bottom down foundations of commoners in upholding the sovereignty of the Empire alongside the Nobility. A society just and cordial is what she dreamed. And these Otherworlder's seek to tear down everything that she holds dear. As the most important people needed for the Emperor's emergency War Council was for at least one person, dragged literally to the table. Both Hael and Faithleann held on to the mutual belief that they must protect their nation from those who seek to do it harm. For Hael, it is likely she will patrol in between the Cathedral and Slum district of Haringpoint again as per her usual orders, yet she doesn't mind, she was familiar with the people and in turn, the people are familiar with her and they all adore her with well wishes, favors and smiles from her. She was even courted occasionally by some of the handsome young sailors and foot soldiers who live by the Slums. As for Faithleann, the Gweninejar will have to embark on the perilous journey to the Ostalrocs to obtain the materials he needs to forge his bequeath band of the Empire's best in brightest to the ultimate Demon-slaying Corp the likes of which the world had ever seen. But still, he can't help but keep his bitter-bitten eyes from the Beast Folk Shamans who had humiliated him of his Gods-given gifts. He continued to dart his eyes towards them as the three Shamans exited the Banquet Hall.

"Let me go Grandmaster! I must teach this barbarian a lesson!" Faithleann kicked and screamed.

"There are more important things right now than Beast Folks today Chosen One." Owyne argued as he dragged Faithleann away from public view in order to prevent him from further embarrassing himself.

The Daosne departed quietly, with disappointment sketched into their faces over this childish sight.

"You desire to fight, to oppose, to defy! But you do not know how to truly fight. If you wish to do, then come to the Northern Lands and find the Skyward Throne." the Volyudi Shaman turned around and said unto Faithleann and gave his parting words. "We will be waiting."

---------------

Clovich and his entourage's bellies were being treated like pigs…

In the sense that they gorged themselves silly with all the selection of foods that Prime Minister Bousqet exposed him too.

From the French, Beef Bourguignon, the American Mac and Cheese and quite requested, Japanese Sashimi of the quality of Michelin-starred meals provided by Earth's best chefs. Their tables, that they shared with the mild-mannered Prime Minister and his flabbergasted fellow Party Members was if a tornado had assaulted the fine china and silverware within the Palais Du Parlement's Banquet Hall. Clovich and his followers skipped the utensils entirely all eating their fill like famished children. If it were up to the Chefs for this feudalistic behavior, they would have kicked them out into the streets if they had done this in their own restaurants, but the Prime Minister stayed their hands. He simply ate his 5-course meal with his reservations. He is allowing them to be seduced by their World's gifts and if that means turning the Banquet Hall into a pigsty to achieve this goal, then so be it. Thankfully this affair is closed behind guarded doors.

"This is… Divine!" Clovich smiled as he gorged himself on a bowl of steaming Mac and Cheese. It was like edible Gold that melts in his mouth to his eyes as he dug in with his naked paws which reddened with every grasp he took.

"Ouch, it's quite hot though…" he complained, shaking off the meals heat.

"You are supposed to eat that with a spoon." Bousquet bluntly said.

"This... is a Soup?" Clovich eyes widened.

Blinking his eyes and looking down on the table again, he noticed to his horror that the shiny objects laid before him in thin silvery finery were in fact not Decorations for the table but actually the utensils that were cast aside to make room for their glutinous platter's ways.

"I… forgive me… Prime Minister… I am so used to eating with a wooden spoon and my bare hands. I didn't recognize all of these." He apologized, his face pink in his chagrin. His entourage too.

"It is okay. I can never be mad at you. You are a very curious one, aren't you? Am I right?" Bousquet leaned forward.

"Indeed. Your food is delicious. How often do you Nobles feast like this?" Clovich asked.

"Oh, I am no Noble, I am merely a servant for I come from a family of Merchants." The Prime Minister smiled humbly. "And the food you see is eaten quite often by both the Rich and Poor alike."

"You eat meats often?" Clovich asked, holding the earthenware platter of Beef Bourguignon.

Meats were rarely eaten in the on the average diet of the medieval Gliesians. Livestock were valued for their productive capacities of providing fresh milk, eggs and wool. When an animal is to be slaughtered, the effort, the preparation and the knowledge to cook a meat dish was tedious and expensive and only reserved for special occasions or at the very least at the end of the day, but even then, choices were limited to poultry and dried cuts of mystery meats. But here on Earth, it was all a Land of Plenty.

"Of course, Our lands are very prosperous." Bousquet nodded.

"And the fish! Look at this fish! I have never seen fish so chewy, so fat!" Clovich commented on the cuts raw fish called 'Sashimi' that he ungracefully grabbed from the serving plate onto his own that lay haphazardly on the tomato-based stew of the Beef Bourguignon, tainting its cold flesh in blood-red sauce.

Fish at least the only one found in Tyr Rianni is a small creature and come in schools that jump around in their migratory paths along the Principality's river. Fondly called the Gerrinh. It is served raw with the bones and head removed leaving its body and tail behind, then marinated in vinegar or brine. It is then served with chopped aromatic vegetables alongside some bread to mop of the sour taste. Upon occasion, Clovich would often eat the fish freshly caught by his cousin when he is invited to go to Souviel again. But even that, there came in so many shapes in sizes when served on his plate since they were often served whole that he got scared of eating any other piscine creature except 'good old Gerrinh'. Yet this Sashimi as the Earth Human called it, taster just like that little fish back home yet in a much thicker cut and peculiarly differing colors of flesh like red, slightly golden and pink.

"Ah, the Sushi. I had the Chef and the fish fly in all the way from Japan to serve it to you. I didn't want to risk something too complicated so I stuck with French, American and Japanese food." Bousquet gave his thoughtful words.

"Japan? I have heard of this… Japan before. By your friend, Governor White." Clovich said.

His ears twitched with excitement when the Prime Minister mentioned that land where King May-jee came from.

"Ah, the Land of the Rising Sun! One of the best places to go to in our world." Bousquet proudly declared.

"What is it like there? In Japan? I want… I want to know… what became of King May-jee." Clovich pushed aside his pigpen of a plate to firmly place his elbows forward as he inquired of his oh so similar ditto.

"Meiji? Well, quite a lot. I can say that his country took with the current time of his day, ten to twenty years that took his country ahead of his neighbors in what took his teachers a century to obtain. He was very smart, curious, loves to see new things. Just like you. I can see it in your eye. You have his… fire." Bousquet gave his flatteries.

"Your too kind dear host." Clovich waved. "I wish to ascend the way he has ascended. The Governor and my guide friend told me that you are to give me some sort of contract? Like the one I had signed to show peace and coevality with your people between my Tyr Rian and your New Albany?" he asked.

"Your quite too eager for your own good. But then again, Meiji was the same when he was in your footsteps." Bousquet wiggled his finger as he leaned back on his chair. "It is best first you understand what you are truly getting yourself into first… so tell me… Prince Clovich… why do you pursue us?" the Prime Minister asked.

This Primitive Native in their likeness was indeed too eager… too eager for his own good. Bousqet weighed the benefits against the possible drawbacks of giving this Prince, a Vassal no less. What if, the Primitives used their Technology wrong and get themselves hurt or worse by its improper usage? What if, the Primitives turned their weapons and the knowledge they learned from them against them? Or perhaps what if UFE Technology fell onto the hands of various unscrupulous individuals… he can already imagine goose-stepping Skeleton Armies armed with Assault Rifles.

"It had started… with my sister. Aria." Clovich confessed.

This one sentence awakened Bousquet from the amoral, chaotic and cutthroat realm a UFE Prime Minister experiences in the all too cruel dance of Earthling Macro-Politics. He may be hardened by such experiences throughout his career but he never forgot the Party's roots founded upon the principles for what they believe is a united and harmonious society for all of Gaia's children. Clovich's concern for his Sister's previous plight, that was what made him join the Party and rose to be its Vanguard, decades ago…

"I know… born crippled correct but our doctors made her walk again." Bousquet said but he phrased his response in a vein for confirmation.

"She is… the one thing that makes me wake up at night. Every day, her smiling or just being by my side everyday… ever since my father died and I have become the Prince of Tyr Rian… it was all just… how would I say… uhm…" Clovich stuttered. His face showed weakness as his eyes reddened into the state of emotional delicacy.

"Hard to keep things together? Like make everything work?" Bousquet asked.

"Indeed." Clovich nodded. "Being a Vassal, most of the Tariffs that go in and out of my Citadel ends in the coffers of the Empire. I barely have enough money to outlay the costs of my Army, the Walls and the Well system. When your people showed up to my door, I thought you were just Charlatans, seeking to drain me another chip of my Ducats. But when you asked for almost little in return for making my sister finally be able to walk. I was… I thought I was dreaming." Clovich said.

"Go on." Bousqet followed. He nodded quite excessively, as if this leader that Clovich sees as if he was trying to play him as a Stooge. This offended the Prince, but he knew that a lash now will have him crawling back to Tyr Rian emptyhanded or in a platter.

"Then I saw you built these towers… of power… oh that rhymes." Clovich lightly chuckled. Recomposing himself back to his in-between tone of cursory language with a bit of beseeching diplomatic forethought to his next words. "Allowing the people, young, old, rich and poor… a respite from their plight of Famine, Banditry, & other likes. You know what I see right now?" Clovich leaned forward as if directly vying for the Prime Ministers undivided attention.

"See what your Majesty?" Bousquet steepled his hands while leaning back on his lofty chair.

"I see your World of Earth free of Famine, Banditry and all other forms of discord. You prove yourself that you wield incredible power like Gods yet you hold back… why?" Clovich asked.

Bousquet laughed.

"I am as human as you… and those ills that you speak of… Famine, Banditry and all of the rest? We still have them every now and then."

The prince sulks down in shame… these beings weren't as Godly as he had thought.

"Yet you see here, there is a difference between you and I…is that we learned from them." Bousquet explained.

"Learned from them?" Clovich asked.

"You came here to learn right?" Bousquet inquired for confirmation. "Sweet your words are about us, but we are not Gods. Yet you wish to learn of our ways. How we build our people. How we build from nothing so quickly? Is it not the reason why you travel from your humble abode to my Palace?"

"Yes." Clovich nodded.

"For a start, all those problems with your Medieval folk experience on a daily basis? As I said we are not immune to them just like you. Yet the difference here is that we learn from them. We learned what causes Famine, Banditry and all of that stuff. We rose to the challenge and today whenever they rear its ugly head, we know how to alleviate them… to work around them." Clovich said.

"So, you are not Gods, but you have the Wisdom of one. That is most unusual. May I also ask, you keep using that word. 'Me-dee-val'." Clovich pointed out.

Bousqet gulped. Looks like he needs to twist his words slightly next.

"In the end of the day Prince, you are hear because you are benighted, unlearned, ww-e—I mean frail and you come to me seeking knowledge, wisdom, and strength whether you want to admit it or not. You expect Perfection, we are more than Imperfect you see. But then again, if we are all perfect there can never be any room or desire for growth or to go beyond that boundary. The thing is… your first lesson is being taught right now here in this very room." Bousquet informed him.

"You are teaching me… us right now?" Clovich stuttered, almost forgetting his personal conversation was overheard by his entourage of Sages, Knights and other Noblemen he had brought alongside him.

"Yes… and If I may warn you. If you don't get this lesson now then don't even bother asking for my patronage." Bousquet sternly said.

"What is this lesson you are teaching me this moment?" Clovich asked, his voice in the tone of a demand. This extravagant fellow who allowed himself the time to have audience with him was speaking in riddles and half-answers.

Clovich was not the type of individual to have his patience tested nor someone who would give up so easily. He wanted… he needed this power that these Earthlings possessed. He could no longer bear the sights of such ills that he hears, see's and touches about as he administered his State. These Earthlings were the key yet they hesitate.

"Not a good sign…" Bousquet snickered. "But allow me to cut to the chase." He smiled.

The Prime Minister stood up from his chair and with stout strength, he shoved aside the elegantly clothed table that separated him and Clovich from each other, much to the piqued curiosity of everyone in the room. He stretched his arms out and waved them around, releasing the tension that his body endured previously when he enjoyed his Michelin-starred feast with the Otherworlders.

"You see all of this? My Palace, New Albany? The Spaceships… or Boats as you would call it?" he asked to the Prince.

Clovich silently nodded.

"It took years, decades and centuries! To get here on this moment." The Prime Minister orated.

"I don't understand. You built New Albany within a month! How can you say that it 'took years'?" Clovich scratched his head.

"Innovation. Change. It takes time! Lots of time! Many people before me took decades, five to be exact for Osei Korporasie to figure out how to build a fully functioning settlement with the likes of New Albany. The Progenitors of this momentous goal…'To build a city in an instant' was a dream that they weren't able to see for five decades for they all died before its completion…" Bousquet said.

"That is tragic to hear." Clovich frowned.

"…Yet, the Progenitors of Project 'Second Eden' laid the foundation for our vast reaches to the Stars, none of our interstellar empire could be possible for their sacrifices and the groundwork they left behind for their successors for without that initial first step, we won't have a Kesserheim, a Mars or a New Albany… do you understand what I am saying?" Bousquet inched closed to Clovich.

"That… I must humble myself? Are you teaching me Humility?" Clovich answered.

"You're getting there but the point is this…" Bousquet tailed his finger as he smiled knowing now that he and the Prince have a mutual understanding of one another. "You will likely not see the world you want to see within your lifespan. Your world needs time. Time to accept us, to understand us, to aspire like us. In a fair bit of warning, you may too not like what you will learn after we are done tutoring you. Or worse may not yet understand it fully until much later. There will be times where even your best men would revile you, other times you will see your once enemies become your sworn ally. There will be times when your people stumble and fall. But in time, they will join you as you cross the bridge to the next age. Take in fact your friend 'King' Meiji. He had to actually fight his own countrymen at best, destroy some of the very core traditions of his nation at worst." Bousqet explains his lesson.

"I… I see…" Clovich humbly moped. The more he learns of this King May-jee the more depth his character becomes. Perhaps he will visit his country within the duration of his Mission. The Tyr Rianni Prince needs to know more about him. "I believe that not even my Liege Lord, Emperor Uldin would take so kindly at first to your presence… he probably already knows of your arrival right now. I did give him a letter explaining what is happening and I hope he will come to an understanding."

"Well that would be good if he did. I would be glad to show him what I will show you… but tell me Prince Clovich Rian… Are you willing to plant the seeds of the first step for your people to brighter tomorrow? Even if you may not live to see its fruits?" Bousquet asked.

Clovich paused. He knew that deep down, going down this path with the United Federation would be a point of no return for him. He saw their awesome strength, their overwhelming wisdom of eldritch knowledge, and the fortitude of steel these Earthlings possessed. Yet as the Prime Minister says, this will take time and the transition to the future he dreams of a new Tyr Rian… a new Empire, a new Ysanigrad, a new Gliesia will only happen if he took the first step for them.

He even knew that many of them would try to worm their seductive voices of riches in exchange for pieces of his honor and soul for example the uber-Merchant Guild A-pa-row Korp. He knew that beneath the smiles of one Bee-yan-kin was the glib aura of a very ruthless Venture Capitalist. They may be an independent third party, but even then, their influences within the trade routes gossips have been creeping and upsetting to behold. Their blessings, alongside the rightful authority of the UFE's Common State Party have their prices. Land, Titles, Authority, sacrifices that many of a weak will would wince upon a second thought or foolhardily jump into its maw only to be turned into a puppet in the very end living in a gilded cage. It is how would Clovich turn whatever blessings he receives to something to hope and believe for tomorrow that matters for him.

The future is inevitable… it's just that what will he do next to shape it?

"I accept," Clovich decided.

"Then let the Lesson begin." Bousquet snapped his fingers.