February 1, 1640

Archul, Calamique

After days of waiting, the American delegation was finally requested for attendance. Meyer and his colleagues boarded a carriage with an escort team under Baker’s command boarding another. A suspensionless, bumpy ride to the Royal Castle ensued. Slowly making their way through the unusually crowded streets of Archul, the capital city, the passengers picked up snippets of conversations outside.

“... so His Highness sent the Dragon’s Fang Knights to reinforce the Phoenix…” a storeowner said loudly, lamenting to his fellow shopkeepers.

“... great for business, I guess. My inn has never been this full!” Another person said.

Meyer took his eyes away from the scenes outside. Curious about the commotion, he asked Duke Wysk, who was sitting across from him, “What’s going on?”

Wysk continued to look outside, his face in a seemingly perpetual state of worry. “The force that attacked the village a few days ago was led by Duke Mauli Hartmann, one of the other lords of Calamique. His Highness ordered the evacuation of Waizer and is preparing to combat Hartmann’s forces outside the city.”

“A civil war?” Meyer asked, looking at his assistant and giving her the signal to contact their superiors. He hoped the State Department could issue new orders in time, before he reached the castle and began talks with the King and his advisors.

“It would seem so,” Wysk responded dejectedly. He sighed, hanging his head. “Somehow, he managed to rally monsters under his command — twelve-horned beasts, just like the one you and your men saved my daughter from. The numbers under his command worry me; for the first time in my life, I fear for the security of Calamique.” Wysk spoke truthfully, unnerved by the whole situation and hoping that everything would turn out alright in the end. Recalling the story his daughter described, he wondered if the Americans could potentially come to the aid of Calamique. “Of course, I have faith in the strength of our armies, but this is an entirely different threat — one we’ve not faced before.”

Meyer, sensing Duke Wysk’s worry, asked him questions that served to both reassure him and gain intelligence, in case his superiors wanted to take advantage of Calamique’s desperate need for defense. “I understand. Could you tell me more about Mauli and his army? What are his goals?”

Wysk shrugged. “I know no more than what I knew earlier. I would suppose you can ask for more details if you establish a defense treaty, but I can tell you rumors that I’ve heard. Mauli wants to take control of the island and venture outside the Great Barrier. He proclaims that his intentions are noble — that he’s doing this for the good of our people. I doubt this. His army, according to yesterday’s scouts, consists mostly of monsters. They also noticed several firebirds with men mounted upon them. I know not how they managed to tame such beasts, but this presents a significant problem for our forces.”

Meyer became intrigued by the mention of firebirds. “Are these birds… Are they wyverns?”

“Wyverns? Those have only been recorded as legends from the ancestral lands! No, these birds are smaller than wyverns. Far weaker, I would assume.”

“Well, that’s certainly a relief,” Meyer commented.

Wysk tried to read between the lines of Meyer’s statement, wondering if he was speaking for potential American reinforcements, or if he was speaking for the citizens of Calamique. Before he could come up with a response, a sudden lurch shook him from his thoughts.

“Sir Wysk, we have arrived,” the driver said.

Wysk looked at the American diplomat as his personal knight opened the doors for them. “Please, follow me,” he said, disembarking. “Your escort will have to wait outside.”

Meyer nodded. “I understand. Lynda, Frederick, is everything in order?” He asked his assistant and colleague.

“Yeah,” they said in unison.

“Alright.” He turned toward the tall, slender ginger woman. “Lynda, please inform me once we get a response.”

“Understood, sir,” she said.

“Sir Wysk,” he gestured to the man, allowing him to lead the way.

They made their way to the Royal Chamber, navigating through hallways of marble and regal carpet. Near the end of their walk, Lynda approached Meyer, whispering in his ear. “Sir, they want us to sign a defense treaty. Apparently, they picked up some weird signals so they want complete access to all ruins in Calamique’s territory in exchange for the treaty, along with any resources you can secure.”

Meyer rubbed his chin. “Okay. I’m surprised they’re willing to interfere with this island without us even knowing what they can offer in return.”

Lynda reiterated, “They seemed convinced that the signal is something important. They also mentioned something about the island’s strange barrier, and magic.”

“Can't argue with that,” he stated. “Let them know I’ve received the instructions. I’ll see what I can do.”

Duke Wysk led the way, walking up to the towering mahogany chamber doors and permitting the guards to open them. The officials in the room and the king in particular were gripped with a sense of urgency, wanting to conclude the meeting as fast as possible in order to return their attention to the crisis. Their faces reflected this, their legs shaking and feet tapping the floor in impatience. “Your Highness,” Duke Wysk knelt.

Meyer and his delegation emulated the greeting.

The king spoke with regality in his voice, his articulation of words fitting for royalty. “You may rise. Duke Wysk, I appreciate you bringing this to my attention.” He turned his golden beard toward the Americans, standing up from his throne. “I am King Brandea of Calamique. In my years of ruling, I have never before been met with a group of people claiming to be from the Outside. As you may understand, my people are faced with peril from within — a parasite who seeks to tear its hits apart. Pray tell, is your arrival a coincidence, or something else?”

“Your Highness, I would say our arrival is better than a coincidence,” Meyer said cunningly. Noticing King Brandea’s curious reaction, he continued, “I would say our arrival is a blessing!”

“How so?” Brandea asked.

Meyer placed a hand on his chest, orating his prepared speech. “We come seeking amicable relationships, and are willing to sign defense treaties for this noble cause. I am Ambassador Jacob Meyer from the United States of America, and we hope not to distract you from your current predicaments. Rather, we hope to help you against Mauli’s uprising.”

King Brandea pondered the strangely clothed man’s manner of speech. His words were as sharp as his outfit, and the proposal for allyship was tempting. Recognizing the threat posed by the enemy flyers — for which his forces had little counter — he decided to indulge in Meyer’s offer. “Very well, Ambassador Meyer. I will listen to what you have to say.”

The room fell to silence as Meyer strategized his words. He sighed inwardly, relieved that he had King Brandea’s attention. Now, his main concern was figuring out how best to proceed with the offer. In preparation for this moment, he had asked Duke Wysk questions about the Calamique economy. It turned out that the materials here were fairly basic, with no known deposits of rare metals, although the locals hadn’t done much to survey and prospect. Finally, there was the island’s mysterious origins and the signal his superiors were so interested in. “Your Highness, in exchange for a defense treaty, the United States of America wishes to receive land for establishing bases and unconditional surveying rights along with rights to any yet-undiscovered deposits. We also want complete access to the ruins and other archaeological sites in this kingdom. We will share any discoveries we find, and can amend this agreement further in writing.”

“How quickly can you deploy forces?” Brandea asked.

Meyer remained steadfast in his commitment to securing a treaty, providing a straightforward answer that addressed the kingdom’s concern of Mauli’s war. “We can have air support in just a few minutes, Your Highness.”

King Brandea motioned for his advisors in his foreign affairs department to come over. They huddled up, having a hushed discussion over Meyer’s propositions. After a lengthy session of whispers, the group finished their deliberations. The small circle disbanded as the advisors formed a line beside the king.

His voice echoing throughout the Royal chamber, King Brandea announced his final decision. “After careful consideration, we have come to a conclusion. The Kingdom of Calamique will gratefully accept the offer of the United States of America.”

“Excellent,” Meyer said.

Right after he spoke, a disheveled, tired messenger entered the chamber.

“What’s happened, lad? Speak freely.” King Brandea said, his brows furrowing in concern over the implications behind the messenger’s urgency.

“Your Highness!” the messenger spoke, panting heavily. He raised a series of papers and straightened himself before reading the contents aloud. “General Cladden’s combined forces engaged with Mauli’s army of beasts! Officials are still determining the casualties on both sides, but they estimate that General Cladden’s forces have lost thirty percent of their men. He has ordered a retreat back to the walls of Waizer and is requesting reinforcements!”

The king’s expression soured, his lips curling into a frown as he processed the grim report. He looked to his right, at a tall brunette man with a cleft chin. “Commander Metzil, prepare your Royal Knights to reinforce.”

Metzil stiffened up, saluting. “Yes, Your Highness!” He said before hurrying off to rally his men.

King Brandea then turned toward Ambassador Meyer and his colleagues. “Ambassador, I wish to invoke our treaty posthaste. My pride lies in tatters for this request, but my people and cities shall not. Will you send reinforcements?”

Meyer bowed. “My people would be honored to help, Your Highness.”

——

USS America

“Ma’am.” A young communications operator reported to his commanding officer.

The dark haired woman turned around and looked at the man. “Hm?”

“Ambassador Meyer just reported back. The Kingdom of Calamique is requesting assistance and is granting us full access to their airspace.”

“Already? I thought they just signed the treaty?”

The operator shrugged. “They did ma’am.”

“Alright.” She said, quickly reaching for a phone. “Attention, this is Rear Admiral Keyes. We have received intel from Ambassador Meyer regarding Group Foxtrot, now designated as Mauli’s Army. Our objective is to eliminate this hostile target or force a surrender. Prepare all Ospreys for deployment. All Vipers and F-35s are to provide immediate relief for allied forces in Calamique territory. Destroyers will receive targeting data for Tomahawk strikes. Let’s get this done as quickly as possible!”

The upper decks of the USS America became crawling with activity as marines, pilots, and logistic personnel worked to get the aircraft off the carrier. The F-35s were loaded with AIM-9X Sidewinders while the Vipers were loaded with Hydra-70 unguided rockets and AGM-114 Hellfire missiles. Rotors and engines roared to life, with the F-35s speeding off to take down enemy fliers, satisfied by the relatively clean battlefield due to a lack of friendly Calamiqian fliers. The attack helicopters and Ospreys soon followed suit, trailing behind the fighters as they rushed to their objective.

——

Waizer, Calamique

Mauli stood atop a small mound, dark cape billowing in the light breeze as he surveyed neatly arranged squares of his monster legions. The organization of his army served to demoralize the defenders further, who he assumed to be flabbergasted and terrified by the unquestionable control exerted over supposedly untamable beasts. Twelve-horned beasts made up most of the vanguard units, ready to storm the walls and create an opening for the swarms of large, horse-sized lizards and other unsavory creatures. Loitering in the skies behind Mauli’s army, away from the prying eyes of the Waizer defenders, dozens of firebirds waited for the signal to strike.

Alone, the legions of land-based monsters could annihilate the entirety of Calamique’s military. With the firebirds and his secret weapons, Mauli brimmed with confidence, expecting overwhelming and uncontested victory. Yet, he felt slightly unnerved by a report from one of his spies.

King Brandea had apparently secured the aid of an unknown faction — one that claims to be from outside the island. Although he had faith in his military, he despised the unknown. The last anyone has heard from the outside world was thousands of years ago, when the Demon Lord’s Army was still subjugating the last remnants of civilization. If Brandea was receiving aid, then it likely meant that their ancestors’ civilizations survived, and could have potentially secured ancient weapons just like he had. He dismissed the thought, realizing that it would have been too difficult to transport weapons like the magic flame tank over the mountains and across the Inward Sea. Even if they did, they would have to contend with the legendary Diobehemoth, a hulking ape-like monster that was over six stories tall.

Thoughts of uncertainty faded from his mind as quickly as they had entered. He returned his attention back to his army, which had just finished assembling the last sections of its formation. He smiled, knowing that at last, the security of Calamique and the island’s other nation would be guaranteed. He lamented the deaths of his fellow countrymen, but such was the price of good living. Such was the price of ridding the island of overpopulation.

“Ordo,” he said, continuing to look straight at Waizer’s walls.

A mage in black knight-like armor beside him answered the call. “Yes?”

“Begin the assault.”