“Oliver Thompson. 75th Ranger Regiment.”

“We can do this all day, Captain. We know that you and your men were summoned by the Kingdom of Yondel; all that matters is that we find out why you were summoned, and more importantly why you are serving under a Chieftain, one that specifically acts as King Alrecht’s assassin.”

“Oliver Thompson. 75th Ranger Regiment.”

“You can say that all you want. You must know that your country, your people, do not exist in this reality as of this moment. No one from your Regiment is coming for you. We’re not trying to be hostile, ignoring the actions the troops took on the ground, but we’re not going to let you roam about free, especially with all the hardware your military service members have.”

“Oliver Thompson. 75th Ranger Regiment.”

Letting out a sigh the man that questioned, “Captain Oliver Thompson of the 75th Ranger Regiment”, Ryan Phillips recomposed himself as he dug through a stack of documents that had been scattered on the table the two currently sat at. The room they occupied, a small lounge area inside a grand military base, was not ideal for a full-blown interrogation, yet he now sat here doing exactly that, his supervisors sitting across the room waiting for something to be revealed. Each of their faces had pure boredom plastered, and it wasn’t helping the situation he was forced to undertake.

Deciding to take a different approach, Mr. Phillips took out a sheet of paper as he spoke, “Your men call it Operational Security, otherwise known as OPSEC.” The interrogator looked at the straight-faced Captain with a curious look, “Here we call it, “Internal Mission Defense”, IMD for short.”

Captain Thompson shifted his cuffed hands as he narrowed is eyes recognizing what the man was attempting to do, so he let Mr. Phillips continue, “In our nation’s past we’ve taken many bright people and put them to work within our armed forces. They, and by “they,” I mean probably like your people, helped our nation develop, and it was all of their free will.”

Taking the sheet of paper he had in his hands, the man placed it down on the table facing Thompson. “What I just gave you is a sheet for you and your men to become refugees. Is it asylum? It could be, for that exact definition it depends how you view the kingdom that summoned you, so see this as a chance for you and your men to return to a normal life as a citizen in our Federation.”

“A Federation?” Thompson accidently wondered aloud gaining the immediate attention of Mr. Phillip and his supervisors. He internally cursed at himself as he knew he had slipped up and given them a way to question him to no end.

As one of the men in the background took out a small blocky device, what he believed to be a recorder, his thoughts immediately trailed to the situation he and his surviving men were in. He didn’t remember much, the gas that the enemy used on himself, and his Rangers seemed to have some medicinal property to knock out its target for up to a week max, and now he found himself in the custody of the very same men they had counter-attacked at the settlement of Stragea.

He calmed his mind as his thoughts drifted to how he even got to this place in the first place. Peshawar, Pakistan, Operation Silver Strike. During the final briefing before his men crossed the border from India into Pakistan, there was a Russian Lt. General that came up within the details. It was simple yet confusing and concerning at the time; Russian Spetsnaz units would be deployed if anything happened to himself and the strike team during the apprehension and assassination of target “Brutus”.

He was familiar with the Russian Federation, after all, there was a reason why the United States and her allies’ cut ties with NATO and created a security pact, and later trade treaties with the big bear. Yet he was unsure how to approach the position he placed himself in, people from an unknown country spoke to him with Leccamaradel’s dimly glowing gem on the table.

Then again, at least this wouldn’t be anything like what happened in Africa. God forbid he’d ever have to go through that again…

“I know standing here in what looks to be a hotel and interrogation you is not ideal.” Mr. Phillips said rising from his and outstretching his hand with a pair of keys sitting in his palm, “But allow me to properly welcome you to the Federation of Zivaland.”

Thompson glanced at the silver keys sitting in the pale palm of Mr. Phillips hand. The man had made a very good point earlier; he was not in a world where the United States or any other country on Earth existed, in fact it would probably be easier for this “Federation” to just kill him and his men, but the fact they had not, along with them allowing to stay in a comfortable “prison” for what was the last three days was more effort than even he would put in.

Raising his cuffed hands and presenting them to the black suit wearing Mr. Phillips, Thompson breathed slowly as he articulated his answer, “I will help. I can’t tell everything, but the least I can do is help my men before you come to a decision for what to do with us.”

“That’s all we want.” Mr. Phillips smiled brightly as he unlocked the cuffs on the captain’s hands allowing him to take it off and nurse his chafed wrists. “Before we start up the questions, the organization I am a part of hell anyone that has seen you all, know that you are all soldiers. One of the opportunities, more importantly an offer I am giving you, is to join my organization that specializes in Foreign Internal Defense, Internal Mission Defense, Diplomatic Defense, and Foreign Intelligence Gathering operations.” He explained while sliding a second sheet to the man across from him.

“What are you, CIA and FBI combined?” Thompson sarcastically remarked gaining a confused by still cheerful smile form Mr. Phillips.

“Uh…I’m guessing that you are referring to organizations that may fill the same purpose in your world?” After receiving no response, the man sighed as he asked the first question to the straight-faced captain. “Right then let’s begin: Would you please share with me the current occupations of yourself and your fellow team members?” He said while taking out a small notepad and stained-wooden pen.

“All of the men in my squadron are a part of the 75th Ranger Regiment, a unit within the United States Armed Forces, we are all soldiers.”

“Mhm, and the female?” Phillips questioned as he wrote down the important information.

Thompson paused himself from answering immediately. He wasn’t sure if he should reveal the identity of Princess Lecca, so he thought out his answer, opting to follow the profile they already have on her. “Chieftain Lecca is nothing more than our commanding officer, she was directed to be our CO during our tenure within the Kingdom of Yondel.” His eyes drew to the small gemstone sitting on the table that glowed with every word he and Mr. Phillips spoke.

“Lecca?” Mr. Phillips asked suspiciously. “I wasn’t aware that you were not formerly introduced to the king’s assassin.”

“We did not know of her occupation, sir.” Thompson said confidently hoping to scoot around the unsaid question. It was true that he and his men did not know that the princess was an assassin, yet he would still half to play carful with any follow up questions his interrogator provided.

“Right, next. Your involvement in the defense of Stragea the was late coming as both your men and the other group of fighters you were travelling with arrived after the city had been burned to the ground by an unknown force, would you like to explain why over four-hundred soldiers, twenty civilians, and three-hundred and counting people were injured?” Mr. Phillips asked placing down the items he wrote with.

The captain’s eyes narrowed as he suspected this question to come up, but not at the pace he expected. “The previous day to our arrival at the settlement our convoy was attacked by men using what we believed to be firearms, that very same night one of my sergeants was attacked by some unknown unit that used those very same weapons.” Mr. Phillips nodded as he motioned for the captain to continue, “They day we regrouped our gathering was ambushed by some group of mercenaries or assassins, after that, a plane attacked the settlement, and after it had left, we were forced to initiate a first strike to prevent any further attacks.”

Looking over his shoulder, Mr. Phillips gained a curt nod from one of his supervisors allowing him to continue the line of questions he had in mind. “I see, self-defense. Now, would you mind telling me what you were doing within the frontier? As I am aware the Kingdom of Yondel has recently stopped all immigration and expansion missions into such a place, correct me if I’m wrong.”

Thompson remained perplexed at the question and how easily the man let it slide. He was hesitant to even share the details of is men’s occupations, so he generalized it, yet for this he couldn’t. He suspected that the world knew the “threat” of the “Demon Lord” and his “endless” armies of monsters, yet he was in another country, saying such a thing could be perceived as a lie, thus, this Federation would declare war on the kingdom possibly believing it to be an act if espionage or sabotage for a first strike scenario.

“That information is classified, but I can at least assure you that we had no intention of crossing into your country’s borders.”

A man on one of couches in the back stood up and buttoned his suit jacket as he swiftly walked over. “You know damn well that your forces, aka you Holy Knights entered our borders. If our director didn’t step in it would have been classified as a God dammed invasion!” The man spoke with authority as he ripped into the captain, “We had all nearby bases on high alert, and four tactical response battalions deployed!”

“Officer Polk, please let me handle this.” Mr. Phillips said aggressively making them man back off from the table.

“Fine, just get what the director wants! We’re running on time here!” He said sternly returning to his seat across the room.

Phillip sighed as he clasped his hands together looking over several more documents stacked atop the manila folder that laid on the table. He momentarily glanced outside towards a small, but noticeable window, Captain Thompson traced his gaze and his eyes widened as he saw that it was snowing outside of the building.

The interrogator pulled out a small pocket watch and checked the time. Based on the satisfied smile he gave, the captain presumed that they were on schedule even with the hiccups they had experienced earlier due to an immediate transfer from the room he had been staying, to this “makeshift” interrogation room.

“A recent report I have received from my college in a separate branch of the government provided me the after-action report from the supposed convoy you were a part of.” Mr. Phillip began as he looked the captain in the eyes with his own blue eyes, “It’s not common knowledge amongst members of the kingdom, but we have been stuck in an armed conflict with an organization that goes by the name of, “The Volunteer Corps.”

Thompson froze as the man continued, “Were you truly associated with this group? If so, we may have to reconsider how we process you all into the Federation.”

“No.” Thompson said. “We were not affiliated with the group at all. We were only using their convenience for a secured transport to the settlement of Stragea.”

Mr. Phillips nodded his head and gave an indifferent look, “I see.” He said firmly.

“Now there is something I want to understand: you all went blind into what many citizens of the kingdom known as the “Frontier”, humanity’s next true challenge to overcome.” Thompson nodded slowly letting the man continue, “Based off the reports we have, you all went through several ruins, primarily cities, towns, and other areas. Did you by any chance consider that these places were once a part of the Federation?”

“Might I ask what you are trying to imply, sir?” Thompson asked calmly.

“By any means we can classify you all as foreign terrorists. Not only did you kill all our expeditionary troopers, but you also came across several groups of roaming citizens and travelers and left them to die, that or you killed them.” Mr. Phillips sighed as he gathered the documents laying on the table. “I just want to know your side of the story.”

Thompson smacked his lips several times and he looked at the table as he tried to find the proper words to respond to the question. “When we were travelling through the ruins, our focus was on following our primary objective, that alone should’ve prevented us from engaging any hostile or unknown forces.” Mr. Phillips listened carefully as the captain hesitated to continue, “There were several groups of civilians and merchants we came across… Those that were willing to speak with us were quite nice and the thought of turning hostile against them didn’t even cross our minds. Yet it seemed that every group we came across would eventually end up dead. It seems that they were shot or stabbed by some group, thus, in the time we spent before we were apprehended, we remained hidden within the sprawling buildings within he cities and towns.”

“And that’s why the men we had on the ground came to the conclusion that you killed those groups?” Phillips pressed. “Logically it makes sense, yet the introduction of a second group killing civilians and travelers is a stretch that members of my organization question.”

“I have no way to prove my statement.” Thompson said. “There is nothing I could give you that could facilitate my men’s innocence.”

Upon answering Mr. Phillips questions, a woman wearing a similar business attire walked up to the men in the back of the lounge. The man that confronted Thompson and Phillips earlier leaned in to her what the woman had to whisper to him and the other supervisors. Hearing what she said, he called over the Phillips to share what he had learned.

Breathing quietly, calming his mind, Captain Thompson waited. His eyes threatened to close, he had been practically awake for the last twenty-four hours. It would be simple to close his eyes and let his mind wonder in this moment of peace, yet it would never come; Phillips and his supervisors quickly walked over to him. Thompson’s black eyes flashed over their concealed weapons within the safety of their coats, and soon he found himself being freed from the leg restraints he had on, and now he was being forced to walk at the forefront of the group as the navigated the open hallways of the supposed military base he was on.

“I guess sharing where we are heading is not allowed, especially to a prisoner?” Thompson asked eyeing the red gem being carried in a small translucent box in Mr. Phillips left hand.

“Correct.” One of the supervisors said in a business-like manner. “The fact you are not inside a prison is just by chance, don’t let this get to your head.”

Thompson knew that today was not his day. People all around looked him with confused or unfriendly looks, nearby guards were armed to the teeth, rifles, pistols, and what he supposed was ballistic metal helmets. His and his entourage’s footsteps loudly echoed on the polished wooden floors and empty hallway they now traversed. Each step he took aligned perfectly with his beating heart, his muscles tightened, and his gaze firmed as they reached a small room hidden only by the wooden door that stopped them from entering.

Allowing the captain to open the door, Mr. Phillip looked at the box in his left hand. A tried expression came over him as he studied the pulsating red “veins” within the gem, it almost looked as if it were a heart. Hearing the creaking of the door, he refocused on the scene in front of him as Thompson walked inside with one of his supervisors close behind keeping his hand on the pistol holstered in a rigid leather pouch.

Breathing in and holding his breath, Thompson set his eyes upon the two persons inside the room. One was on the bed, unconscious, the other sat in a nearby chair dressed in what looked to be a medical gown.

Looking over her shoulder to the sudden noise of a group of people entering the room, Princess Leccamaradel Emma Arish’s silver hair glowed in the low light environment, she remained silent as the captain set eyes on the I.V tube administering pain medication through her right arm.

Standing behind Captain Thompson, Mr. Phillips watched as the two stared at each other with wide eyes. Moments ago, the young woman had been wrapped up staring at the uncouncious man in the bed she sat next to, yet now he didn’t understand where the captain and his men stood with this foreign officer from the Kingdom of Yondel.

Just outside the large window within the room, a small downpour of snow coated a large field leading to several more buildings and a paved tarmac. “Captain…?” The woman said hesitantly as Thompson was directed to take a seat at the chair at the end of the bed.

Thompson almost chocked on his words as he restrained himself from saying “Princess”.

“Chieftain…Lecca.” He said hesitantly gaining a confused look from Lecca. “How’s the Sergeant doing?”

A convoy of military vehicles, primarily large trucks hauling material rolled passed the window on a nearby road, their roaring engines disturbed the silver-haired woman as she recomposed herself, her brown eyes settling on the calm face resting on a single white pillow.

“He momentairly woke up yesterday from his slumber…” She said, her choice of words confusing the men behind Thompson. “I believe he will wake up tomorrow morning…” A look of guilt flashed over her face just as fast as it vanished. Her pales hands extended and grasped Sergeant Randall’s arm. “I’m sorry, Captain. I did not mean for this to happen…”

“It’s fine.” He quickly answered. “I’m just glad that we’re alive for what it is worth. We couldn’t have avoided such a conflict for long, and even if we could, we would’ve died of starvation or some disease before we could complete our “mission.”

Humming quietly, Mr. Phillips kept an eye on the young maiden as he stood beside Captain Thompson with the gem in his hand fully visible.

Glancing at his sudden movement, Lecca’s eyes grew wide and her grip on Sergeant Randall’s blanket tightened. She wanted to snap at the man to give back her property, yet she couldn’t. She like the men she led into hell were at the mercy of this “Federation”. There was no room for diplomacy nor violence. The nation she currently resided in was more advance than anything she had ever seen before, and that alone scared her.

She missed the comfort Mike, and the others gave her even though they too were from a more advanced world.

“Chieftain Lecca.” Mr. Phillips said clearing his throat. “I would like to thank you and the men under your command for cooperating with us in this investigation, and the least I can assure you is that the level of treatment you are seeing now will remain a constant.”

“Thank you, Mr. Phillips.”

“Continuing with our previous discussion; the Federation of Zivaland would like to formally allow you into our country as refugees.” He announced making her brown eyes narrow. “I know that it may sound off, but this is the only way we can assure your safety if you wish to stay, in a matter of five years you will all become citizens, unless you join one of the many governmental organizations around the Federation.”

“You want my men to betray their loyalties and submit themselves to your rule?!” Lecca asked boldly making Phillips’ supervisor snicker.

“Yours!?” He scoffed. “You ripped them from their own world and forced them to act as soldiers for your own kingdom, Chieftain. Don’t give me that bullshit, I know how this story ends!”

“Mr. Owen, please, calm yourself.” A nearby guard said making the older man huff annoyed.

Sighing and nodding his head at Mr. Owen, Phillips spoke carefully, “He’s not entirely wrong Chieftain Lecca. We can guarantee that your men will be fine, but as for you?” Lecca gulped silently, “We have no use for a political or military hostage; sure, we can interrogate you on the inner workings of your Kingdom, but we have no need to.”

The princess let out a shaky breath as she realized what Mr. Phillips had just said, “We know everything.”

But if that was true, why wasn’t her identity as the First-Born Princess revealed the second, she was initially interrogated two days ago?

Such were her thoughts as she allowed the cold air coming from a nearby vent freeze her skin, she made a small mental prayer that no would find the truth of her identity, but knowing the people before her, it would only be a matter of time before they revealed the truth.

Perhaps this is why she truly enjoyed the winter weather. Thought it was only the beginning of winter and the end of fall, her brief time outside the building felt like stepping through a frozen wasteland. It made her feel at home, and perhaps that is what she truly wanted, a place to be at home.

“About what to do with you all… We will keep you in our military’s custody for the foreseeable future until the brass upstairs finds out how to pull you out of this mess, besides, how the hell did you even get into a mess like this in the first place?” Mr. Phillips questioned as he brushed his jet-black hair with his free hand.

“Is our situation really that bad?” She sarcastically asked.

“Three-hundred soldiers dead; we could execute you right now.” Mr. Owen remarked as he adjusted his black tie. He directed his grey eyes at her as if pressing for a response to the statement he just made.

“Well, I suppose that the forward element that ambushed us received such orders to initiate hostilities against the Kingdom.”

Mr. Phillips let out another sigh as Mr. Owen chuckled to himself before walking away with a guard in tow.

“If that’s all, I’m sure the majority of my team are down with your interrogations and are about ready to pass out from pure exhaustion or boredom.” Thompson provided some lighthearted banter allowing Lecca to chuckle off the tension that had been built up.

He himself let his lips tug up, yet his eyes still remained firm as they replayed the endless nightmare of watching the now deceased PFC Green getting hit with the stray fire bolt and dying on the spot.

It would be some time before he could find a solution to such a nightmare.

Publicly Available Information: Zivaland Federation:

Found just beyond the Frontier and the Unknown Territories, The Federation of Zivaland is a country that specializes in mechanical and magical technologies. From firearms, tanks, planes, and other military technologies to common civilian household items, the Federation of Zivaland seeks to spread its influence and technology on the outside world and is currently preparing a first contact package.