Unthinkable.

The valorous anthems of patriotism that trumped over the Imperial Capital's skylines became silent as plague hysteria gripped the city. Heralds had begun to grimly narrate the demise of the 22 Legions, the Dwarfen Volunteer Army and the Black Tree Expeditionary Force and the complete collapse of the Emperor Uldin's 'Dragon Wall' were heard all throughout the Slaegian's beating Heart. In place of Supply Caravans and Depots, refugees and survivors of the Otherworlder's attacks flooded the Capital as the Imperial Logistic systems were stretched well beyond its workable limits. Despair, anxiety, and disbelief flavored the mood of those who heard of the apocalyptic logs of the Heralds of how the 22 Legions, some of it not the best armies the Empire had to offer of brave men, capable commanders, valiant knights, and fearsome war beasts, were utterly decimated, routed and scattered to the dusted winds within the meager span of three days. Alboen had indeed returned to their world to unleash his bloody vengeance upon his transgressors. They overcame the treacherous impasse of Marnia's Bluff and the Dragon Wall, all such supposedly 'impenetrable defense' lay violated, exemplifying to the Slaegians that their strength was not enough to stem the Otherworldly Tide.

Accounts from the survivors were chaotic to put it into imagination bluntly speaking. However, what those erudite enough to piece together the hysteria from discernable fact painted a very grim image of the unholy capabilities that the invaders possess:

They speak of an unending deluge of metal beasts followed by green-skinned minions that march tirelessly over the Dragon Wall casting devastating magics that obliterated their defenses in a fraction of a blinking eye. No matter how hard they try to push back, their weapons, their magics their armor broke, dissipate, and fell before the incoming flood of Otherworlders who mercilessly slaughtered the valiant martyrs of the Dragon Wall. Even if one has given the providence of surviving the initial assault attempt find the sanctuary amidst darkness and ruins would not be able to protect them. As in one different account from a Grey Order Mage stated: The Demons have seemed to have an advanced means of scrying the battlefield for whatever hapless survivors who managed to survive their initial attacks to be an easy feast for their drones of thralls to toy and slay as they please. Those who managed to run swiftly enough or were fortunate to attain a head start to flee north being the bulk of the refugees arriving in Haringpoint.

The Empire, in reaction to this development, scrambled desperately to aid the survivors and funnel through additional, albeit subpar reinforcements to what few holdouts were left consisting off

To make such dire tidings even grimmer, the Demons had managed to subjugate the aid of various faction's hostile to the Slaegian Empire or had held a grudge against recording back generations from the Daosne Centaur Beastmen, Goblin Tribesmen, and the most dreadful of all, the Father of Necromancy and the most Profane of Act of Vampirism, King Martainne the Lich King. Creating a Triumvirate of all of the Empire's most hated of enemies under the enthralling banner of the Otherworlder's Many-Ringed Star. Some Grey Order Scouts even state that they even spotted the traitorous Karliah with the Shareholder and the Corrupted Elven Princess amongst the invading horde, slaying uncountable multitudes of the Empire's Finest with ruthless glee.

The Legion's Generals, in spite of this, eased such fears being beset upon the Emperor and the other Plebians of Haringpoint that they can still salvage whatever survivors that they know can still be rescued back into the safety of the Capital's protective bastion. They just need time to re-establish a form of cohesion with those who are left. They could still count on the salvation of both Elven Nations of the Entente and the Pact, knowing the latter, led by one of the Black Elven Anstrustriones' of the Crimson Lancer Lord Vokhol is holding his own as ordered. The former, arriving much later after an unfortunate delay at sea. Once they can rally whatever is left of the Legions and get more men levied from around the Empire they can, Gods willing, a counterattack.

Yet even still, below the very streets the Nobility and Elites of Slaegian Society desperately try to keep their nation from breaking apart, chaos became the rule of law today. Amongst the denizens of Haringpoint themselves the situation was much bleaker; for they who bore the full brunt of this most disastrous of shocks. A rush of panicked feet began to trot the paved roads of the Imperial Capital as riots over vital supplies and hastily private evacuations became the theme over the past few days as people rushed to leave to the safety of the North whilst others hurriedly hoarded supplies for themselves for the inevitable siege of the city. Others took sanctuary at the many minor temples dedicated to a Deity of the Pantheon or at the Grand Cathedral in a thirstful search of hope and meditation at this trying time. They seek an answer or a consoling word in the midst of this uncertain despondency. The more… banausic of folks however rushed into the local taverns, brothels, and watering holes to attempt to drown their despair away with pleasure. The latter is much to the chagrin of the Imperial Legions and Bureaucrats who have to cruelly yet mercifully kick said wasters away from such areas so they don't waste Haringpoint's vital food supplies.

All in all, the once crown jewel of Humanity in Gliesia, of order and civilization had devolved into a barbaric heart of a darkened jungle where Darwinian principles clash with what little defenses the paragons of peace and stability could steadfastly stand against such apocalyptic transpiration as all walks of the Slaegian Empire's public order hang delicately on a thread.

To address the evolving crisis, Emperor Uldin and the Imperial Senate declared an Emergency Congress of all the Slaegian Empire's leadership within Haringpoint's Senatorial Dome. The tension in the room remained on a hung by the thread between determined diligence and stressful scouring as the first phase of the Congress were the witnesses of the ill-fated Dragon Wall's defenders who managed to tumble their feet back into the Capital's Walls…

"Every last one of them? Have perished?!" Ser Huguet interrogated, his eyes, exposed with unbelief, pierced down through subject of his inquiry, a lonesome survivor of the ill-fated Dragon Wall who presented himself onto the Grand Chamber Hall of the Imperial Senate.

It was nigh preposterous upon his two ears to believe at the very first hearing for the Chief General of the Imperial Legions that he had effectively lost over half of his forces, plus the additional supplements from Mercenaries and Allies to the Dark Lord's Forces in all over a week. Yet the continued grisly testimonies were given out by various messengers, many of him his own friends and friendly of subordinates in the Legion give out the same tale as along with the previously grim-written messages he got as the last words of salutations from the Generals he had sent to defend the Dragon Wall. That the Demons from the Otherworld, with their Magicks, absolutely obliterated all the defenses of the Dragon Wall allowing them to pour through to soft bellied Slaegian Interior, pillaging the Heartlands as they speak.

"Indeed, I saw all of my brothers perish so swiftly and yet so dishonorably by the Demon's Magicks. The Otherworlders and their Thralls are like an Inferno; Overpowering and overwhelming everything in their path Priaut Cadlysér." A survivor from Marnia's Bluff bowed. "The Dark Lord's Forces have learned from their previous mistakes and are likely marching to the Capital in due haste as we speak." He bowed as he took his leave in front of the Congress of Nobles.

"By the Gods, this has been a disaster…" Emperor Uldin somberly covered his face, hiding away his anguish from his lesser peers to not show his decaying weakness.

"All hope is not lost, your Majesty." Grandmaster Owyne inspirited the Emperor. "We must activate the Ancient Defenses of the City at once milord." He sagely advised the beleaguered Emperor.

"Yes, Yes! If we can hold the Capital for at least two weeks we can gradually move in the Northern Legions and evacuate most of the Capital's populace to the safety of Marves." Ser Huguet added. "Then we combine our strengths with Prince Valorion's Men and push back the Invaders." The General demonstrated his plans, pushing alongside the token standee's representing the Slaegian Legions and Ethuilen Elven Armies towards the Demons who now littered the Imperial Southlands from Vercourt to Tifrait.

"Yes… we may still have the advantage." Uldin, now thirsted with hope, aroused from his despondency. He has nearly forgotten about Haringpoint's mythical defenses that had bested against any challenger during the Empire's infancy and to its present-day, fighting off Barbarians Invasions and Monster Attacks alike.

"As of this present moment milord, we can deploy up to eight cohorts strong of our recent Levies to create a means of relief for what remains of our Dragon Wall garrisons," Huguet advised. The more soldiers that the Legion can break out of the encircled defenders, the better their second line of defense could stay strong.

"Do take care, that you handle those Bla---" the Emperor, now realizing his general mentioned about the survivors more in detail was about to say his piece about the most troublesome of 'Allies', one who call themselves the Black Tree Pact who were sent to relieve the forces stationed around the vital roadway town of Neuogonia

BANG!

BANG!

BANG!

Three abrupt knocks from the grand double-sided door of the Senate's Assembly Hall rang greatly unto the room. Under normal protocols, this would have been a scandalous breach yet such emergent times allowed some lee-way in sudden influxes of new information to immediately trickle into the Empire's Halls of Power to be presented within correct reason.

"Emperor Uldin! It is I! Lord-General Vokhol of the Crimson Lancers! Let me in at once!" the Black Elf General, once whose voice oozed with Elven Confidence had brought himself humbled upon the Younger Race of Man.

It was the most unexpected of interruptions for the Imperial Court. They had all thought that the Black Elf was busy fighting hordes of Demons in Neuogonia at this moment, but to have him here in the Capital brings about many questions and none of which that the Court had wished to never ask.

"Let him in." Emperor Uldin commanded the Sentries stationed by the door.

The two Guards bowed and obediently pulled open the heavy door's intricately carved façade allowing the Black Elf and his retinue inside the Senatorial Hall.

To those in attendance's horror, Lord Vokhol entered the Hall decrepitly, exposing an uncensored glance of what the Otherworlder's weapons are capable of inflicting upon a subject. The Black Elf was left heavily marred upon his image compared to his previously sanguine self when his tens of thousands strong parade of the Pact's Finest marched through the Capital to pledge their support to the Alliance of the Light on their Second Sacred War. He sullenly sported several gashing scars across his face that were barely bandaged and stitched back together giving the Black Elf a tragicomical. He also had sash that hid little to imply that his most recent expeditions had cost him his right arm; not wanting to further display the scurrilous exposition of what his shameful defeat had brought him.

"Lord Vokhol? What are you doing here? Should you no---" Huguet began to inquire of his sudden appearance but he was immediately interrupted by the Elf's shrill cut off. "What in Nenya's name happened to you?!"

"The Invaders were more contentious than I had previously thought…" Vokhol faked a cough as he made his way to the podium to stand for himself amongst the entirety of the Imperial Slaegian Court and Senate.

"What of your Army?" Uldin leaned his ears closer to hear from what the Elf had wished to so urgently interrupt this exigent gathering at the direst of times. "What of this 'Pacts' Finest?" he pressed for answers.

"My Men, all Brave Sons and Daughters of True Alfel Nora had made their stand in Neuogonia milord." Vokhol began to explain his 'prepared' speech by softening his voice to a more refined accent. "O-only…I have survived … and now I stand before you to speak on not only on behalf of my Nation but of those who have fallen."

He had practiced these upcoming statements, all tailor-made for the maximum penetration of appeal as per instructed by his Midnight Camarilla Masters who behind the scenes were doing their best to make good onto their interests during this crisis behind all of their rivals, most especially the Ethuilen's backs having arranged several favors to mold the developing situation from a military disaster into a political advantage. Subsequently, for himself, Vokhol needed to salvage his wounded pride from the embarrassment of returning to Haringpoint in trans-mortifying tatters. Once he had finished his formalities with the Humans in the Imperial Capital, Lord Vokhol and his surviving soldiers are to return to Dúrnimloth to enact their contingencies to ensure that Alfel Nora remains strong in the wake of this impending crisis.

He couldn't risk divulging the humiliating details of his defeat that his wounded pride disallowed him to confess to the Imperial Nobles, less he humiliates not only the Black Tree Pact but also himself. But the true agenda of his deceit was for more politically cunning beneath the surface. He knew that even if the bright star of the Ethuilen Armies, the Crown Prince Valorion Lareththor is a glory seeker, he is ultimately responsible for the lives of his men. If the Imperial Defeat is too crushing of a situation for the late-arriving Ethuilen forces who had been delayed by 'an unfortunate astrayment' by an 'unblessed storm', then Prince Valorion may be hesitant to fully deploy the capabilities of the Ethuilen's finest. From orders from the Midnight Camarilla, to salvage this minor deracination is to keep the Crown Prince and his Army as far away as possible from his homeland as Lord Vokhol could. If they play the right moves on the board at the correct timings, then this transgression could be reversed into a blessing in disguise.

"An unending deluge met before them by the Otherworlders. We had fought valiantly and with our prowess, we had gloriously pushed back the Demons to the very borders of Tyr Rian near the Duchy of Tifrait. But alas! The Victory was at a great cost for I lost all of my men and beasts during the campaign." He lied. Acting out a solemn lowering of his head, still reeling with both mournful deferences to those brave Elven Souls.

"You managed to push them back?" Uldin's weary heart leaped with hope upon hearing this most gracious of news it was a ray of hope from a sea of distress.

"Indeed, but only for about a week or more, I believe if judging by the distance of Tyr Rian and Neuogonia is… They may have been defeated once for now, but they will surely return to strength in the coming days." Vokhol honeyedly impelled. "If you can use these precious days ahead to build your defenses from what remains of your armies then perhaps you may be able to marshal more of your men into your nation's defense."

"Milord, this could be all of the time we need to rally not only our Northern Legions but also the rest of our Allies too." Huguet bowed.

The Emperor rested behind his throne contemplating what his General had counseled him on. The Northern Legions were gradually trickled down moderately compromising the security consisting several of the Northern Daosne Lands of Ysanigrad to the Beastfolk Barbarians in order to supplement manpower into the South for the Crusade. There were still several more Legions who have not yet reported their Commanders to him as of late and this sudden break in the war effort could indeed give him the time the Northern Reinforcements needed to march into Haringpoint's relief. From a realpolitik point of view, the near-total annihilation of the Black Elf Expeditionary force was just what Emperor Uldin wish to hear from the Black Elven General as he didn't have to suffer through many of these Elves and their diplomatic pressures with both the Entente and the Pacts as he much prefer to handle with the former than the latter. The same idea was also given to the Dwarves and the White Elves who needed more time to train and acquisition their manpower and supplies too. Additionally, more time of study and research for the Mages of the College in the Arts of Anti-Demonic Wards could also better prepare the Empire for the dark storm ahead, most especially for the Empire's New Champion, Faithleann Garmhaic.

"Your Ma-jesty!" Faithleann's voice perturbed the great halls, his impetuousness reverberating within his tone. "You should let me lead our troops to Ty Rian and vanquish the Demons once and for all. I grow tired of sitting idly by here in the Capital while our home is being invaded by these Otherworlders. It was a great mistake for not letting me in the front lines for I would have surely defended the Dragon Wall and Tifrait would not have fallen. But most of all we wound not even need the 'Aid' of those Black Elves." Faithlean arrogantly proposed.

"Do you have no clue of what we had just talked about you brat?!" Vokhol was left astonished by this Chosen One's ineptitude. "Your strength is not yet enough to challenge the Demons. Look here! The Corrupted Princess, Aliathra had taken my right. What can you do better?" the Black Elf challenged.

"Says the one who then exulted that they 'will vanquish the demons all by themselves'." Faithleann snidely fired back.

"Such lack of tact of yours, it is a miracle by the Gods that you are still standing here after the Ostalrocs…" the Black Elf General scoffed away his hand across dismissively to the young knight.

"I have you know that I have been practicing my Magicks for the past week ever since I had returned to Haringpoint. I had studied through all of the most powerful of magicks from the College such as Fireball Barrage, Final Transmutation, and Thunderstorm!" Faithleann boasts of his achievement.

"All of that learned… in a week?" Vokhol jerked his lithe brow. This youth couldn't be more delusional…

The Black Elf may not be that too deep within the many written Lores of Magicks but he knew from a fundamental level that the spells that this Arcane Knight is proudly aggrandizing about were of a high level of Combat Magicks that takes years of refinement from studying lesser potent of related spells and additional practice to safely cast. Learning them all 'for the past week' as described its although not impossible is highly advised against by even the most aggressive of Magical Tutors for such spells require an extensive investment of discipline to effectively cast and control such a physically and mentally taxing spell; Less the spell will backfire on users which is called in the Magical Community as 'Overcasting'. Additionally, his over dedication in ostentatious Destruction Spells would blind him to the reality of Spellfighting Duels as such confrontations between mages require a whole vast anthology of many different spells 2 or more Schools and the creative application of said spells principles and characteristics. He was all attack, no defense. Although he is not dismissing the boy's ascendant talent as word of mouth did say he is indeed quite a prodigious adept in the Arcane Arts, his impetuousness could easily be his most fatal of flaws.

"This Chosen One…" Vokhol grinned annoyingly towards the Emperor to display his dissatisfaction. "The boy has much to learn if he is ever able to fulfill his calling." He subtly showed his disdain for Faithleann.

"How dare you mock me!" Faithleann lashed. He attempted to charge towards the Black Elf to deliver a piece of his bruised mind, but he was physically stopped by Petur and Findrum.

"This not the time for childish squabble boy! There is still much work to be done." Petur reprimanded him as he dragged the fire-blooded young boy out of the Senatorial Hall.

An equally bothered sigh escaped Uldin's body to signify his reciprocated displeasure of Faithleann's rash behavior. The kid has simply no clout of talent in the subtle dance of Diplomacy.

"I have done as much as I can to all of you people of the Empire of Slaegia. But alas, a General without an army is like a Sailor without a Ship. I do ache to announce that I under the direct orders of my Midnight Camarilla that I must formally declare the Great Black Tree Pact's withdrawal from the Ysanigrad Continent." Vokhol addressed eloquently to the rest of the Midnight Camarilla's Message to the Empire regarding the recent events. "I must now beg for my leave. A Galleon bound for Jiselume will embark within the hour." The Black Elf General gracefully left the podium and with a deceitful smile masked under a burlesqued aura of contentment over how the first chapter of the Midnight Camarilla's plans moving forward in this crisis has now been completed.

Upon Vokhol's exit, the attendees realigned themselves to the immediate case in hand of defending the Empire, drawing their focus onto the wide War Table in the center of the room.

"A great many of Refugee's from the Eastern Provinces have been flooding into Haringpoint every day and as ordered, we have been rediverting their caravans to migrate Northward. We have also been able to collect over four-thousands of able-bodied men to replenish the Legion's numbers." One general reported.

"I have been countlessly reassured by you, all of my faithful Generals the Imperial Legion remains as capable and battle-ready in spite of the Crisis, but my curiosity has been elated towards our adversary. The Otherworlders themselves." Uldin raised.

"If I may…" Mita the Crow Master, who throughout the time inside the room had been quietly leaning over one of the many pillars of the great hall roguishly absorbing the drabble being spread about by the high tables of society. However, beneath all of that sea of imaginative speculation amalgamated with fractured facts, the Crow Master had scented a hint of something not tallying properly…

"What is it Crow Master?" Owyne asked her.

"The Black Elf, he seems to be awfully in a hurry to leave the Capital so swiftly… despite his… current stature." She cautiously chose her words to convey her suspicions.

"The Midnight Camarilla is not the most patient of folks in all of my years speaking with them and their vibrant kindred," Owyne answered.

"I mean no disrespect to his losses. But the way he made his speech earlier… of how he talks about his so-called victory? His demeanor is rather… fearful for someone who had managed to hold back the Invaders all the way to Tyr Rian as he said." Mita aired her suspicions.

"What are you implying? He had just lost thousands of his men." Owyne pressed.

"The way he held himself, it was like if he was just a Prey who had barely escaped a Hunter's Trap. Did you not see his bandage wrappings? I wouldn't feel as fervent if I finished a quest only to be as brutalized as him." Mita shared her empathic acumen.

There was a premonition deep down hidden behind all of the bravadoes the Elf had meagerly ransomed about his loss to the Imperial Court.

"Crow Master, I believe you dally in a place that is unnecessary for your brilliance to waste upon." Owyne realigned her focus. "What we must drive our current attentions is to the defense of Haringpoint."

The Crow sighed, there was much more pressing matters than a military withdrawal to put her mind to about, perhaps she was indeed overthinking too much and not narrowing herself down to the task that matter.

"As I was speaking…" Huguet grabbed both of the two Master's attention towards him. "Haringpoint's supply caches cannot sustain the current population of both the city's burghers and the refugees. In addition, our close proximity to the frontline has left the Emperor and the Imperial Court in a most vulnerable position." The Marshall explained.

"What are you attempting to say?" one of the Nobles asked.

"It is with a hesitant heart and my thousands of apologies for this offense I am about to state, but we must, if the crisis does escalate, all non-combatants of Haringpoint are to be evacuated from the Capital to allow the Garrison to further entrench the city. Including the Imperial Family." Huguet answered forthrightly.

"This is preposterous?! An allow them to ravage the Cathedral? The College? And the Grand Lodge?" Owyne raised his voice in protest.

Many more of the Nobles and lower of ranked Officers of the Legion joined in the protest. Haringpoint was not only the strongest fortress of all the bastions of the Imperial Lands but was the beating cosmopolitan heart of the Empire, to Abandon the City, to allow the risk

"Silence!" Uldin yelled. With only one word, the assemblage's protest swiftly quelled, albeit temporarily.

"What the Priaut Cadlysér speaks is undoubtedly without his own justifiable merit of his thought." Uldin explained. "But we must learn to compromise ourselves. The Black Elf, as much as he was an interesting character to host within our Halls had bought us time, a week." The Emperor defended his Marshall's plan.

"A week, to preserve the Continuity of the Empire is what I speak of." Ser Huguet adjured. "We must rescue whatever relics of power, people of influence, and what little strength the Empire has left as it escapes towards the North where we can re-establish our control. Even if the Capital fall, we may able to still have the soul, the spirit, the idea of the Slaegian Empire lives on even if Haringpoint if were to valiantly burn to Ash."

"One week…" Owyne muttered. It was such a short time, and not nearly enough time to evacuate all the important archives of knowledge the College of Magi's Libraries had, nor to evacuate the Magical Relics locked inside the Cathedral and the Grand Lodge. For the Grandmaster, he had to make a very much difficult choice without the ability to discreetly subvert himself into an advantage. Some of those prized treasures will be inevitably lost no matter how much he pushes to save them. He has to choose which gets saved and which will be defiled.

"I have accepted if Gods fate it. That if Haringpoint may fall, that if the Otherworlders are to devour me and my men, all I ask of you; although the Materium Capital would be razed and its ashes grinded to the earth, I can die honorably knowing that the Empire's Soul, its People, its History, Knowledge, and Treasures are safe." The Marshall issued his proclamation. "Can you do this one simple… wish for the Empire I have fought for my entire life for that I love and cherish for?" he challenged the congregation.

A moment of silence lurked within the Hall before one such Senator raised his hand saying 'Ydw' signifying his approval of the plan. He was then followed by those attendee's sitting beside him, followed by those across him, before long, the whole Senatorial Hall erupted their hands in unanimous concordance. The Senedd has agreed with the whole of their hearts. Huguet smiled, knowing his hopes were answered.

"Then all is settled. Every one of us shall contribute to the preparations for the Defense and the Evacuation of the Imperial Capital." Uldin stood up from his throne to address the congregation. With a heart revigorated by the sage counsel of his Generals, the Empire of Slaegia may yet be able to fight on even at the very midst of this

"We have only a week to---" the Emperor was about dismiss the assembly but just as he is about to say blessed adieux, the Senate Hall's grand doors were forcibly barged open.

A heaving Knight entered the Chamber to the newly locked gaze of the Imperial Court.

"What is the meaning of this?!" the Emperor bawled towards the gate-crasher.

"I---I the Demons! They are approaching the Capital!" the Knight exhaled his answer.

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

After a tense skirmish of the peripheral defenses of the Imperial Capital, the combined Maneuver Battalions of Eastern and Western Army Groups have now Haringpoint within their sights. It took a day of a hasty replenishment of supplies, men, and materials to fully capitalize on the breakthrough both forces had managed to carve around their respective areas of responsibility. Previously speaking, the Federation's Intelligence Teams had also been reaping the rewards of the most recent invasion by scavenging the battlefield for valuable artifacts and documents useful for both military-relevant information and scientific data gathering, specifically from the recent Battle of Neuogonia with all of their discarded Elven equipment and anomalous fauna laying around for them to dissect and analyze.

The heavy defeats inflicted upon the Imperials had bolstered the mood between the two armies as overall confidence soared amongst the ranks, especially the newly formed Laniyea Army of Prince Clovich whose men grew ever-more confident that they can achieve another victory with this momentum with their new equipment and growing veterancy as a modernized force at hand.

"This is it, once we break down this wall it's only just a Fjord's ride away from planting the Seven Ringed Flower atop of the Imperial Palace." Holyfield marveled from his view in-person view of the city of Haringpoint, its lamplit skyline flickering across the minor agricultural lands that separated the combined UFE and Laniyea Army from their prize.

He wanted to personally oversee with his own two eyes the conclusion of his latest Military Campaign, coming down from the Aurora to see the UFEAF's dagger deliver the coup de grace against the Empire.

By now, he had already written up the plan of battle once the Coalition's forces breakthrough the walls. Polonsky's Men would help secure the civilian sectors of the capital and focus on crowd control and other support functions whilst the Prince's Laniyea Soldiers will push through all the way to Administrative Districts of Haringpoint. As for him and his Marines, they will focus on neutralizing the Commercial and Industrial areas of the city to secure Prince Clovich's left flank facing the waterside. In addition, Intelligence Gathering groups lead by his own Navy SEAL Teams coordinated by Agent De Sardet will storm three key locations: The Grey Order's Grand Lodge, the College of Magi, and the Cathederal supported by several new Magic Countermeasures and Detecting equipment courtesy of Dr. Mahelona's research and Aparo Corporation funding.

De Sardet was unusually enthusiastic… almost awaiting with sadistic catharsis readying to burst within him when it comes to the prospect of being the one to kick the door down on those three power centers of Imperial Might that it had unnerved both Captain Rose and Colonel Polonsky. But Major Holyfield reassured him that if there was anyone who can turn a serene sanctuary into a marauded mangle with anything worth of value that wasn't nailed down taken, the Bureau of Intelligence Agent was the man for the job.

"Do not forget the Banner of Tyr Rian…" Prince Clovich reminded. "Remember, this is also my War, not of Conquest but Revolution." He tightened his fist ardently.

"Conquest and Revolution are the one in the same Prince Clovich. It is a victory against an adversary. The culmination of one system, a way of life, an idea triumphing over the other." Holyfield argued. "In our case, a system of the Old Ways versus and the New, and we are 'the New'." He stated firmly as his arms articulated expressing his devoted enthusiasm to final victory being just within sight.

"I agree, but I must remind you, these are my people Major, and this is the Imperial Capital… by all accounts, the next great acts we will undertake this day shall be heard throughout the world." The Prince answered.

"Sir… Pigeon is in flight and is ready for the broadcast. Is the Prince ready?" a Communication Officer approached the two men.

"Yes, Yes, the people of Haringpoint shall hear my voice..." the Prince nodded.

He was escorted to a nearby tent where equipment designed for a live holographic broadcast was set up for the Prince. Clovich had insisted that ever since the beginning of the conflict that this war has officially started by him rather than the Federation. And this war was not of Conquest but a Revolution a war of Salvation to stop the Empire from their hubris. Although now that he thinks of it, what is the difference between those two words? Regardless, his claim to the Imperial Throne and the backing of his Otherworlder Patrons must be legitimized by the people he will soon rule over. He sees all of his Generals who followed him from Tyr Rian and his Federation Allies and Advisors as they await his word by his beckon. For Prince Clovich Rian, he had once been their puppet of violent masters but now Like the Wise Emperor of Japan Meiji of Earth's Old had prepared, he made his King's Speech stepping forward to the visual capture of the red-flickering camera:

"To the people of the Imperial Capital of the Empire of Slaegia, Haringpoint, this is Prince Clovich of the formal Vassal State of Tyr Rian now the Leader of New Ysanigrad. I come with my newly armed Legion known as the Lluoedd Arfog Newyd Ysanigrad all blessed with weapons and magicks that your Legions have no chance of defeating. All of those supplied by these 'Otherworlders' you call the United Federation of Earth. We have marched from Tyr Rian to exact justice upon the Imperial Army Out of your unreasoned fear, naivete and reckless in conducting unreliable divination magic, the Sleagians hastily branded the Otherwolders as 'Demons' and my people as 'corrupted thralls' with zero evidence and understanding of who the Otherworlders truly are. This result in the burning of half Tyr Rian and the death of 600 innocents… of MY Subjects… MY People along with dozens more of the Federation's own men, women and children! The Imperial Court along with their Grey Order and Magi conspirators perpetrated this heinous act which will not be unanswered for nor forgiven. I arrive now with my army upon the sight of Haringpoint to see that these offenders pay for their act of not only the crime of unjust aggression but the very betrayal of MY Trust. Between Liege and Vassal."

A Specially made UAV flew across from the Coalition's position to the battlements of the Capital's defensive walls where it hovered before the alerted Sentinels. A holographic projector attached to its snout displaying a mirror image of the Prince displayed alongside high decibel speakers (as powerful enough to fit inside the UAV) to relay his words.

"However, those of innocent of burghers and of still common sensed within the city will be spared from our righteous wrath. I know most of you still believe me as some kind of 'Demonic Puppet' and the Federation are the Demons of Old; But as my final words before I commence the assault: I ask for every soul in within the city: Stay in your Home and do not get in my army's way if you value your lives and I assure you by my Noble Honor that you will NOT be harmed. All of the misunderstandings of this 'Rebellion' and this 'Second Demonic Invasion' shall be resolved once the Slaegian Regime has been appropriated to my control."

Clovich grieved for air as he concluded his speech to the silent ovation of his followers who bowed before his conciliatory words of choice. He was a man of his ideals in spite of his young age. His only hope now is that his message has come through.

"Sir… they Shot Pigeon down…" the UAV Operator quickly breached the tensed silence of the room.

He hovered over his Monitor Screen displaying a Magical Missile fired from one of the mages stationed atop one of the watchtowers of the Capital smite down the bird before falling into static.

"Emperor Uldin is making a mistake… a grave mistake…" Prince Clovich clenched his fist as his nerves pulsated by the suicidal defiance by his former Imperial Masters.

"There is no other way through but through the walls, I am afraid milord." Edmurl pushed his walking staff to shift his body towards his liege. With a heavy heart, he confessed to the grim reality.

"It has seemed so… do I have your word to commence the Assault?" Colonel Polonsky, who also wished just the same to personally see the conclusion of this war with the Planet's Natives on the ground asked.

"D-Do it… but no longer than what we agreed upon…" Clovich reluctantly gave the order.

"Rail Hammer this is Shield Father, you are clear for the attack. Commence five-minute barrage on all targets within Phase Line Bronco. Start the show." Colonel Polonsky ordered.

"Affirmative, Cannons' bringing the house down." The 4th Artillery Company's Commanding Officer answered.

Having just pre-sighted their Militech Earthquake SPG's and Ullr MLRS' onto Phase Line Bronco, otherwise the Imperial Walls of the Capital on their geometric calculations. The 4th Artillery Company loaded their Artillery's 155mm shells and Jericho Cluster Missiles to their launchers. After one final conditional check on their firing trajectories, Callsign 'Rail Hammer' unleashed the Federation's fury upon their Cannons.

Prince Clovich capped his hand atop of his eyes as he looked over the skies horizon as the firing trail left in the Artillery's wake zoomed over the sky. At first, like birds who soared near to the heavens, but as they traveled further, they began to descend like howling ghosts upon the Imperial Walls. Being the very beating heart of the Sleagian's grip, generations of Imperial Emperors, long-minded of Generals and Architects had invested extraneously in exotic and expansive improvements to the Battlements from stations affixed with an arsenal of Siege Engines and defensive countermeasures, the replacement of standard quarried stone to the much hardier imports from the Dwarven Mountains to the enchantment of protective Magical Runes to supplement the Wall's impressive integrity.

But as the Federation's High Command blanketed the sky with humbling fire, their eyes gazed upon noticing that several of the shells began to prematurely explode stories high of the city limits, harmlessly illuminating the skyline with High-Explosive fireworks. At a brief glimpse over the horizon, one can see the faint refraction of light shaping itself into a dome-like structure over the Imperial Capital as if it was a sanctimonious shield angelically protecting the City from harm. At first, the Federation paid no heed upon this minor setback, thinking it was one final pitched attempt to prevent annihilation but as minutes passed… and more shells and missiles ineffectively detonating over Haringpoint, the Commanding Officers of Operation Haymaker were taken aback as they concluded that their enemy has elevated their wargame.

"God damnit! How strong is that Shield?!" Rail Hammer radioed, the Artillery Commander's vexation on air for the Commanders to hear. He and the rest of his Artillery Team, who had so far had devastated many of the Imperial Slaegia's finest with the utmost impunity were humiliated as their mandated five-minute barrage had ended without any so effect to the City whatsoever from their efforts. They had wasted over a hundred of their Artillery Shells for their bombardment.

Looking over the horizon with their binoculars's the Commanders of the Coalition Army can spot the faint refraction of light weaving around the city in its warding grace. It was like the building-wide shields from before. The Resilient Sphere spell as they call it, but a much stronger one encompassing all of Haringpoint.

"Major! The Slaegians are counter-barraging us." Polonsky raised as suddenly, several UFE positions were being harassed by several storms of Arcane and Elemental Magicks throughout their camp.

The UFEAF and Laniyea did as best as they could to brace for impact, but still, they obtained casualties doing so.

"Blasted! Get me the Indian Sea on the line! I want that Shield glassed at once!" Holyfield gnashed his teeth. He was not a patient man, nor was the Party and High Command back home were too. He would turn the city of the Dust if he had his own way of the Rules of Engagement.

Colonel Polonsky quietly nodded, equally sharing in his sentiment.

It would be an embarrassment if they are to be behind schedule of what this otherwise to be a 'simple' Pacification Campaign.

"Colonel do not do that!" Samantha yelled abruptly as she and the rest of her squad rushed themselves hastily towards the Commanders of the Operation. "My calculation from the ISAC's Mana Sensors told me that although the Orbital Bombardment can break the shield by its kinetic power alone, it will also level the whole city to dust! Collateral damage and loss of Life will be too high for anyone back home to stomach." She grieved her protests.

The Major intrigued his wrinkled forehead as he leaned his gaze unto the Redheaded Officer. "Then how do you propose we should instead Captain? That shield is stopping us dead."

He knew that the Captain and her abilities give her a degree of merit unique to her and so far he calls, although not by the book nor as conventional at first thought had always produced the most amiable of results for him as of both the Major's and Colonel's Tour of Gliesia. They wonder what sort of plan Captain Rose has concocted now.

"Karliah, tell them." Samantha gestured meekly to the Slaegian Defector.

"The Shield protecting the Imperial Capital is being powered by a series of devices known as Mana Obelisks, enchanting the spell from within the city." The College Mage elucidated.

"Within the City?" the Major questioned.

"As a senior member of the College, I understand the full details of the Mana Obelisks. The Shield is connected to each other through a centralized Mana Geomantic-Web through a giant Mana Crystal, the Mirror of Aunsellus, acting as its source. The Mirror's energy is dispersed evenly throughout the City through these Mana Obelisks that are publicly accessible landmarks embedded all around Haringpoint." Karliah further divulged.

"Web? Like some sort of Power Grid?" Holyfield inquired. "So, these Obelisks are used by your former Collegiates?"

"Verily, the Obelisks are used for the City's defenses and the occasional research activity into the Aetherium's Winds for the College." Karliah nodded.

"So, we find these Mana Obelisks and destroy them to get rid of the shield?" the Colonel inquired.

"We must NOT destroy the Obelisks. doing so would allow Mana Energies from violently implode upon us. Severing its connection from the Aether, the Mirror of Aunsellus, is much more prudent solution." Karliah strongly called out Polonsky's barbarous plan. "A ritual must be cast by an Adept to sever its power." She added.

"So just turn it off then? I see." The Colonel bowed. "Do that and the Shield goes away?"

"The shield would gradually scale down to cover less of the entirety of the City. The less Mana Energy being allowed to circulate throughout the city shall in turn allow your soldiers to summon your great weapons from afar. You can also pay no worry about retaliation against the Mages that are levied to defend them the more you sever the Obelisks from their power." She nodded.

"It looks like we don't have much of a choice of what we can work with Major." Polonsky turned to Holyfield. "We have to send boots to those Obelisks and hold them long enough to wipe them off the board."

"Indeed, that Mana Network will surely give us hell even in partial operationality." Holyfield shook his head. "Karliah, where would this Mirror of Aunsellus be? We are also interested in that artifact too."

"It is unlikely they have moved it from its vault within the College of Magi. I know of a route through Kobold's Hollow to allow us entry while avoiding most of the guards." The Collegiate nodded.

"The Kobold's Hollow?" De Sardet asked.

"Aye, a series of underground tunnels used by the citzenry of Haringpoint as cool storage rooms for their food, an underworld sanctuary for the Rogues and Beggars, and a safe shelter in case of sieges or other disasters that may befall on the city." The Collegiate answered. "I am one of the Grey Order Guildsmen who can navigate the Hollow with ease."

"Interesting, maybe trouble for us… or useful if we are willing to risk going in." The Agent eruditely rubbed chinned up.

"There is the problem of reaching Obelisks though…" Samantha raised her hand.

It was an afterthought that had caught Karliah, in her rush to end the siege quickly soon discovered. How will she and Samantha enter the Kobold's Hollow now that the City has effectively locked down all means of entry?

"May anyone here give counsel?" Karliah turned for answers.

"The Shield doesn't prevent the entry of personnel? Oui? People…?" De Sardet clarified.

The intellectual capacities of the UFEAF Round Table absorbed the defector's information carefully. How could they deploy their men into a heavily hostile area?

"The obvious approach won't do because of the Shield stunting our firepower. You would be cut off." Polonsky shared. "There are eyes everywhere and the place is locked tight with structure enhancing Runes for months! Years even..."

"We can't fly'em either. If the Sphere can stop Artillery Bombardments… it could also stop Airborne Drops too. Plus, the Pelicans will be vulnerable to zealous amounts of enemy Magefire." Holyfield added.

He could still remember the haunting mayday cries of his Airborne Troops taking anti-air fire from Magic Missiles by the evocative Battlemages all throughout the Operation. No amounts of Flares and Electronic Countermeasures would protect those unfortunate Pelicans from crashing. It was as 'Low Tech' as it could get for fighting aerial opponents, wait for the Pelican to hover low while said ambusher is low themselves before blasting Arcane Fire onto the wingbeat beast.

All of Haringpoint's buildings were tightly packed Burgs of Commercial and Residential areas with roads too narrow for a wide-spreading Pelican to touch down soldiers onto without being exposed to the heavily entrenched defenders of the City that now swarm the area. The feasible landing zones simply put had too many possible ambushing angles for the defenders to counterattack.

"If we can't go over or through it then what about… going underground?" Diaz radically proposed. "Karliah, does the Resilient Sphere spell stop… sapping? Digging a huge tunnel under?" he asked.

"No, not at all." Karliah's eyes widened to this new proposal.

"We kick the door in on them and rush towards the Obelisks and we switch'em off yeah? Dig in and hold them until the Cav comes." Diaz smirked. "I know for a fact about those Maximov People bringing out some of their Heavy Industrial Machines from their ships that are bound for the Ostalrocs. A fun corral of Heavy Mining Drills called the Hyper-Mole's." The Corpo relayed his unexpectedly extensive intercorporate intelligence to the group.

"How and why would you propose this?" Samantha asked him.

"I know a guy who was in the exact same position as us right now. We mole ourselves pass the Walls and then emerge out then run to them Obelisks and waste anyone that tries to stop us." Diaz waved. "Besides, I always wanted to know how this baby cuts." The Corpo brandished his Actocolite-Thermocarbon Katana.

"Yes… yes… if your team can move fast enough Captain Rose, this might work." De Sardet nodded.

"That could actually work…" Samantha grinned astonishingly of the rather insane yet potentially effective proposition. "Get your team geared for a hard long fight on all sides so the Mages can them off."

"You will only need to sever the Weave of three Obelisks are closest by them." Karliah further divulged.

"Good, get those Obelisks offline. I need that. Once they are down this should give us the break, we need for the troops to rush in. Once the walls are gone it's Game Over for the Imperials." Holyfield smiled coyly.

"And Haringpoint shall be liberated from Emperor Uldin." Clovich raised his sword pre-celebratorily, he could now taste victory's sweet succor mere inches from his mouth. "You are adept in accomplishing impossible tasks Ladui Rose. I place all of my prayers and faith complete unto your errantry." Prince gave his humble support.

"Just a head up though. The Hyper Mole's Supply bay at its emptiest can at max maybe or so hold 8 of us with full gear on each if we squeeze tightly." Diaz added, his voice wincingly slightly.

"Basically, once we in we got to hit them hard and fast..." Crocker cutting through all the formalized lingua.

"Then it is best we all gear up to the teeth for an intense firefight. Dig our pockets deep with extra Ammo, Grenades, and Drones to help us dig in on those key positions." Samantha ordered.

"I will call in Mr. Yahontov to get those Drills over stat." Colonel Polonsky acknowledged.

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

Several Hours had passed within the UFEAF Camp but Mr. Yahontov finally came through. Arriving in Maximov's Aerial Haulers swiftly from New Albany to Haringpoint, 3 Hyper-Mole Mining Drills were being disembarked along with its driving crew ready for the dangerous task ahead.

For each Drill, there are to be three teams of men one of which is Stryder Group lead by Samantha, the other two are with a fully recovered Ho'don and King Martainne of both express through enchanted hands twitching lustfully to smite with Arcane Fury against the people who had persecuted them. They were escorted by a selection of handpicked SEALS from Major Holyfield equipped to the teeth with all of the best weapons and Godspeeds the Federation can arm them.

They are the Federations Vanguard. The sharpest tip of their spear against the heart of the Empire.

Captain Rose triple-checked the functionality of her FBR-20 Bullpup and a pair of Frag Grenades on her peson as she nervously exercised her breath to console her pre-mission fermentations. Among all of the missions she had undertaken so far, this wild-eyed plan was perhaps the most dangerous she had been tasked to accomplish (thanks in no part to Diaz's unconventional imagination). Even with her powers, there was still the choking fear Samantha sensed within her bones as she loaded the last cartridge of Rifle Ammo for her Rifle before she sallied out. The mission is either going to be a success or she, knowing what the Imperials will likely do to her, undeniably they will seek to capture her alive for her fabled powers. The Captain can still remember the harrowing pleas of those Natives preaching of their dogmatic religion of her 'Destiny' and their relentless determinism to claim her for themselves. She shudders to think of what they could likely do to her if they seize her knowing the medieval means they will likely used to 'correct her enthrallment' as the saying goes. Closing her eyes to soothe her nerves, the Captain pat her hands across her Combat Rig to remember where each of her essential tools are located at all times and making sure they are all secured in place.

Looking onto her squad, she allowed a comforting facsimile of a smile to her squadmates to express outwardly confidence that she within still struggle to grasp onto her enduring self. Howbeit, seeing the sight of her companions stoically hanging ten near the edges of what little space they could muster reassured her that they too share her tensions. Crocker was at his usual stoic self, holding his LMG at the ready while brandishing his knightly Hercules Exo Suit. Clay tightly held on to a box-shaped container that held a Militech Janissary Turret, a device useful for the inevitable defense of the Obelisks. The same can be said for the Squad's Combat Engineer, Kayin who did the final checks of his Flamethrower's nozzle and secondary Carbine Rifle. Iris meanwhile was by his side enchanting the very last few Grenades with a variety of elements. The Vampire Witch caught Samantha's eyes and she smiled confidently about herself, reassuring her she will be at her very best for the coming fight. Diaz and Aliathra held their hands together, the Elf's cybernetics interacting with Diaz's carbon-wired compressor augmented palms as Diaz held his Katana vertically. The Corpo being also equipped with a protective vest alongside his iconic Tech Pistol Ruiner. The Elf Cleric was recently issued a brand-new Composite Bow of the Aparo Corp's design boasting a superior drawing strength thanks to its moving pulley cables and well-handled ergonomic compared to her old Elven one. Although she did shared the thought that when given the chance, she will paint the black aluminum surface of her new weapon to green as she finds the charcoal color to be too 'depressing' for her tastes. Obediah had armed himself tensely with a MAR-A5 Rifle modified for Close Quarters combat complemented with an under-barrel shotgun as his breathe boiled as a hunter's anticipation seeped into him, the anticipation for a new kind of quarry, the most dangerous ones he had challenged to track and kill in all of his old life. His focus dead set against the Alliance for killing his wife and daring to harm his only daughter. Such a inimical eagerness permeated the drumming vibrations of the Hyper Mole as the Maximov Engineers bravely tunneled through below the noses of the Imperials.

"Oi! Hustle up back there!" a voice interrupted their conversation. It was from the Maximov Engineers piloting the Drill. "GPS is about to be green, were just below the wall." he relayed.

"Move in quick! We only get one shot at this!" Crocker rallied the squad.

"Watch the roofs, watch the windows, watch any place the Imps could be waiting for us." The Captain added.

The Hyper-Mole's engine howled impassionedly as its Titanium-Thermocarbon drill tip galvanized to its maximum output. Tearing through the Gliesian Soil with rapacious furor.

The scheduled time of the assault was a few minutes passed noon, as when the Imperials on Watch above the Walls had the planet's sun glazing into their eyes.

At first, the Yeomen paid no heed to the strange vibration, thinking the rumbling below them were the march of their colleagues aroused from slumber, the Walls were deployed double the foot count of watchmen as hastily demanded by Ser Huguet after all. Patrols were strict and their reconnaissance continuous reportings of any unusual movements they observe coming from the Federation's War Camp whose horde of iron beasts and black-eyed warriors stand just a shy breath short from the range of their arrows and magicks. As of their arrival, the Watch report activity outside of the Otherworlder's War Camp being built up --- a ruse the Federation fabricated to deceive the defenders of their true actions.

"Is yer' tum bouw tcha go'in outta'gin Willy?" a Yeoman crassly turned to his partner.

His fellow Watchmen paid no heed initially, longingly waiting for the relieving cockcrow of their watch station's Kodiad Bird to signify the end of their shift where a warm bed and meal awaited the two. The Creature every quarter of a day awake tweets a loud song that the Ysanigrad's would often use to signify the beginning and end of daytime.

But just as the Yeoman was about to dismiss his partner's alleged flatulence, the rumbling intensified! Spiking him away from his frivolous state.

Before the pair could react, the ground where their feet rest upon on the Watch Station suddenly caved in as the two fell screaming down into their doom alongside any unfortunate countrymen nearby.

As from the Abyss below, three Great Worms of metal skin emerged from the earth tearing through the surprised Imperials with rapacious abandon. It had slug-like bottoms that trough through the streets of Haringpoint as its mighty nose shrieked like a banshee's wail as it pierced through even the most steadfast of spear walls beelining each separately to a different Mana Obelisks like a famished child racing for a meal. As the beast tore through the defenders of the Capital, the guts and blood of those who foolhardily attempted to stop its rampage drenched the Worms with an abominable odor. In a way, to those exiled Hold Dwarves of the Ostalrocs, these Worms seemed to bear the resemblance of one such terrifying construction they had attempted to bring the extinction of many cycles before. It was as if its ghost arose from its grave to seek its vengeance personally on those who had desired its elimination.

"Slot these Imps fast!" Crocker roared as the Hatch Doors of the Hyper Mole burst open.

Stryder Group hurled themselves into the fray of the bedeviled Slaegians, their weapons and magicks seared through their unready formations like wet worked butter as they raced the cobble-slab streets of the Imperial Capital. It was only a short sprint from where their Drills had stopped till the teams each arrived at their designated Obelisks. Karliah's intelligence was correct when she mapped those Magic Disbursement Devices on how powerful they were as the Captain can attest. The Mana Obelisks were towering 3 story tall rune-carved menhirs that radiated with magical power. They were in ancient times used and erected by the first Mages of the Sleagian Empire as a means of drawing Magical Energies and as Karliah spoke, a means of defense. Overtime, as the Imperial Capital, the Obelisks became impromptu Landmarks that the burghers and visitors to Haringpoint use to center their commercial activities near around. Looking onto such a magnificent specimen for Samantha, her mana hunger dripped wet with desire, starving for the tempting power emitted out of her reach. It took the plucking of her combat rig from Corporal Kayin to fixate back to reality.

"How long do you need Karliah?" Samantha asked the Defector.

"I just need a few moments to sever the connection…" The Collegiate answered.

"You have Ten!" the Captain shouted as her eyes peered across the boulevard to the sight of a band of hastily half-armed Imperials charging across the blood-drenched streets of their city. "Defensive Positions now!"

Samantha, Clay, and Kayin gritted over a set of fetid-odored barrels where the latter deployed his Janissary Turret with his C.O and Squad Radioman opening fire with their weapons. The Automated Turret was loaded with armor-piercing 5.56 mm ammunition belt fed into its twin barrels that rained an unending flood of lead against the Imperials approaching from their east. Karliah's was immediately guarded by both Crocker and Aliathra of whom their symbiotic defenses, one of Terran Steel and the other Elven Abjuration kept her safe from those who wished to disrupt her ritual on the Obelisks. When it came to offense, Diaz had taken the lead over Iris and Obediah. His mechanical augmentations along with the sword and pistol of his Katana and Ruiner made very short work of the Legionnaires and Battlemages above the rooftops, his enhanced body, and reflexes. To the Imperials, the crimson demon massacred anyone he came across with inhuman speeds that many of the weaker will flee from his sight. Even managing to neutralize the Mages crewing at least two Altars of Telin that were responsible for the earlier counter-barrages. For it was like a child trying to challenge a tempest when it came to the Corpo's whirling blades, Iris elemental outbursts, and Obediah's sharpshooting for the Imperials who only had at most a blade and the sandals on their feet to contest with.

It was truly is the apocalypse when the Empire's proud Legions were outmatched against the Otherworlders in every way imaginable.

"This is Scalpel Team, the Lich turned the Obelisk is offline." Clay's radio blared, then followed by static "Blackfoot here, the little green-man is singing…we should be done in sixty. Over."

"Karliah are you almost done?!" Samantha hollered.

"I need… almost…" Karliah gritted her teeth.

"Damn they just keep coming!" Crocker unnerved as he knelt down to reload his Machine Gun.

"Iechyd Da!" Karliah smiled as she stepped away from the Obelisk.

As the Collegiate had said, the Obelisks Mana flickered away now cut off from its mother source. Samantha's growing hunger over the site of power dissipated just as the light of the menhir's runes died away.

With its harmonic leylines disturbed, the Resilient Sphere spell, the Imperial Aegis over Haringpoint began to wane. The crack in Haringpoint's armor began to be exposed as the shield's safeguard left whimpering away from the Imperial Wall. It had only taken a second for those Mages atop of the battlements to realize what had just happened before a barrage of the size of 150 millimeters and 100 kilograms worth of explosive payload obliterated them. A thousand cries of terror from those Imperials above the walls before sudden silence. Dust clouds of ashes and broken soot blanketed the outer districts of Haringpoint in a grey winter as Stryder Group and the Seals emerged from the snow-like rubble.

The silence left a tense moment for the Special Force team as they stood by attentively listening for an echo of sound as the dust slowly began to settle away.

It was not long before the Soldiers heard the sweet hum of a motorized vehicle. Two eyes, illuminated from behind the smog of what was once the very symbol of Imperial Slaegian Power as an Arabian Armored Personnel Carrier portered upon its back a leading squad of Tyr Rianni Reifflwyr. They stoically braved over the crumbled Walls with their Halberd Rifles at hand facing forward the new future they are about to create. As they looked on, hundreds and thousands more of Federation and Laniyea Troops and their vehicles began to overflow into Haringpoint as the joint Windmill Flag and the Federation's Fleur aux Sept Anneaux flew triumphantly towards their destiny like a bride with her groom.

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

The Shareholder had done it! It was a complete and utter rout!

Prince Clovich witnessed from over the reinforced safety of the APC he rode upon as his Steed or in the terms of the Federation's Military Doctrines equivalent a 'Command Vee-hee-kill' the sight of his men flooded through the Imperial Capital. Tearing through the barricades, bastions, and bars that separated him from his prize through the weight of his numbers and iron beasts. Many of the survivors retreated deeper into the Imperial Capital in strongpoints to mount up a final stand but eventually, they will fall just as the rest of the Capital will. Those numbers who wavered behind immediately surrendered to the overwhelming Coalition Soldiers.

The Prince daringly emerged his fair face above the hatch of his Arabian Steed to the sight and joy of his soldiers, elated to see with his own eyes that justice for his homeland and a new era is about to begin.

"Milord! A glorious victory shall soon be yours!" Sargeant Beynon humbly bowed

The Prince basked in this moment, a triumph over the old order for a new Ysanigrad he will create. Malynaris' approaching warmth over him allowed himself to be transformed. No longer will he be the Vassal Prince of rural Principality, but instead the new Emperor of a new Nation under the Gods' Creation of Gliesia. Yet still, he remembered the lessons he had learned from the Earthlings. Now with the Empire's Traditionalist leaders now effectively on their knees. It was now this moment he must prove to the world what kind of ruler he intends to be.

"Soldiers, Followers, and Allies of mine! Do not ransack, rape nor raze this fair city. Our war is a just war against a corrupt and decadent system that had for many eras enslave of what our nation's truest potential could be." The Prince nobly spoke. "If a Legionnaire surrenders, disarm his weapon and treat him fairly. If you must lay your fingers upon the burghers of Haringpoint, do so gently and with respect. But lastly! Remember why we are here and why we fight!"

The Laniyea soldiers cheered oh so much louder when they heard their leader reinforce his ideals, ideals indoctrinated to the hearts of his men fueling their zeal.

"Beynon!" he turned softly to the heroic militiaman.

"Milord, your continued gaze humbles us further…" Beynon lay prostrate over his stature.

The Prince stepped off of the APC, going by the steed's tale where a flag pole that attached the Tyr Rianni's red-green windmill Banner. He plucked the flagpole off of its embedment and passed the symbolic cloth to Beynon.

"I present you what is the highest honor I have given to anyone within their service of me. For the one who saved my life…" Prince Clovich placed the flag on Beynon's hand solemnly. "I give you the highest honor of this new land, the task to raise this sacred banner over the Imperial Palace to evince our victory over Haringpoint."

Beynon marveled his fingers across the soft fabric of the Tyr Rian Heraldry. In all of his life, the red and green were only an identity of where he hailed from. But now today, this Banner, with its ever-free windmill spinning whimsically across his peasant eyes, means a whole new symbol for him. A dream of a new Ysanigrad a world free from want and fear. A new empire where one can live with dignity of life together with one's neighbor.

Earnestly gripping the flag, the heroic Laniyea soldier rose up in attention to Prince Clovich.

"Go with the swiftness of the Widall and the braver of Ghana gwas." Clovich embraced the sergeant affectionately like a father sending away his son. "A thousand hearts are by your side. See you soon."

Beynon gave one final bow to the Prince exemplifying a knightly-like honor to his Lord unseen of by the officially sanctioned Knights of Clovich's retinue. He turned away from the Prince as he galloped his feet alongside his squad as they marched, the Tyr Rianni Banner flying proudly above them northeast towards the Imperial Palace.

The fighting within the city erupted with close-quarter firefights and melee's happening in several dozen pockets of resistance. Using their superior mobility, the Coalition isolated these pockets of resistance to kneecap any cohesion of defense to support Prince Clovich's march unto the Capital's Marrows, the seat of Imperial Power itself, the palatial Hynafiad District. On their way, Clovich and Beynon met all different kinds of obstacles, from straggling Legionnaires to desperate citizens trying to flee before the Foreign Army. The citizens were left terrified over the sight of the Federation's strange warriors clad in nigh-alive olive fatigues and their thunderous staves that cursed anyone with death upon its sight. Yet Prince Clovich gave his personal discretion to his men to address the Imperial Citizenry's fears. Taking advantage of the fact his army, despite their modernization still retain many aspects of their legacy such as their folk wear and the language customs of the Vaikuri speaking Tyr Rianni, the Laniyea made sure that the burghers of Haringpoint did not interfere with any kind of disruption, intentional or not that Prince Clovich is enacting upon his will to the Slaegians. It took only the gentle push and warnings from the Laniyean Reifflywrs to leave the city-dwellers flabbergasted over the sight of these allegedly 'marauding Demons and their Thralls'. More shockingly, the Laniyea went out of their way to haul off the weak, elderly, and injured to safety as to clear the advance into the Hynafiad District. Still, there were those of zealous or misguided attempts of resistance and even 'appeasement' from the more despair-filled denizens to halt their advance but the Laniyea swiftly addressed that complication through the butt of their Rifles. The same basket cases of civilians were encountered by the UFEAF who had to contend with them alongside of locking down what remnants of the Haringpoint's Garrison. Going out of their way to not lay a finger on the local burghers of the city, instead focusing on the Legionnaires and those brave-foolish souls who raised their arms against the UFEAF-Laniyea Coalition.

Such a modest behavior for an allegedly 'Marauding Horde of Demons' confused the inhabitants. Expecting them to be raping, pillaging and burning their beautiful city to defiled ruins like all Despoilers who broke through a city's walls should.

It took until the late afternoon when Clovich's 1st Regiment began to storm the Imperial Palace. The rules of engagement remained generally in clear throughout the intense room to room fighting between the Laniyea and the defending Honor Guards of the Palace. Kill anyone who raised their arms in resistance, but give honorable mercy to those who surrender immediately. He did give a special bearing to Emperor Uldin's two children: Princess Estrice and Prince Arthurfir knowing that they are too young to comprehend the grievous sins their Father and Uncle Grandmaster Owyne had done to his people. But even with the discretion being ordered about, the Prince's word did little to nothing to spare the Palace's interior and façade from the ravages of war. The once opulent estate, built upon the ancient grounds where the original Slaegian Kingdom's Keep was to be reduced into a bullet-ridden derelict of its former self as the last of the Praetorianic Honor Guards perished dying admirably to the last breath defending every inch of the Palace.

Just as Malynaris was about to dip her golden feet across the ocean's azure horizon. Sargeant Beynon, using one cleave of his mighty ax, tore down the blue-gold Cornucopia Flag of Imperial Slaegia atop of the Imperial Palace, ungracefully falling unto the ground in a final insulting display of the waning Imperial Power of Slaegia's old traditions. Immediately thereafter, upon the cheers of his fellow countrymen, Beynon implanted atop of the Palace's stone-carved Dragon Icon the red-green Windmill of Tyr Rian.

Haringpoint, the Imperial Seat of the Slaegian Empire of all of Ysanigrad had fallen.

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

"Now is the time to move Matriarch… if we punch through Benham-3's atmosphere now, the Fed's wouldn't be able to sniff at us… at least for a long while."

A lone space vessel quietly thrusted itself across the void of space before arriving at their newest destination. Unlike the heavily standardized Federation Naval Ships or the swift yet spaciously efficient Megacorpo Cargo Tankers, this vessel prescribed to an idea somewhere in between long-term survival and nomadic flexibility, and unlike those two kinds of ships. The people and the trade this lone vessel performed was anything but Legal.

"Very good… those detes from Kesserheim were correct. This place is and will be a land of opportunity. Milk and Honey for everyone of us." A venerable woman atop of an authoritative seat smiled gently.

She is the Matriarch of this vessel and the Captain of this boat. It was her responsibility as any other to see through the well-being of her merry band of outcasts, destitute, nomads, soldiers of fortune, exiles and scoundrels…

Or in Legal Speak:

'Space Pirates'

"Find us a nice place far away from those Earthborn pigs Navigator. Drivers and Tech, we are going dark. All Crew, prepare for planetfall." The Matriarch ordered. "I want to get ourselves nice an' comfy with our little own Hermes…" she smirked, exposing her golden teeth as her chromed hands tapped enthusiastically.

The Pirate Vessel's Netrunner jammed the Federation Navy's Quantum Radars patrolling near the Aurora and the Tenacity for a short few minutes. Complementing such surveillance reconnoitering, the Matriarch's own vessel had their Stealth Drivers, Electronic Countermeasures that negates any means of long-range sight via specially made materials as her ship made planetfall onto Gliesia's atmosphere beneath the Federation's noses.