Grimoires and Gunsmoke

Coleman let out an exhausted sigh as he stood at the head of the convoy, surveying the grim and pained faces of the villagers as they grieved over the lifeless corpse of their Village Leader. Some wept openly, while others covered their mouths as if trying to hold back the tide of emotion that threatened to overwhelm them.

With Sofan's, the villagers became a portrait of a shattered and lost community as they squabbled about what to do. Some petitioned to go back while they still could, while others thought it was best to send word to Afton so he could lead the convoy. But even in the depths of their grief and bickering, a glimmer of hope emerged. Donnu, the blacksmith, stepped forward with a face etched with guilt and regret but also with a quiet determination.

With a heavy heart, Donnu placed a hand on Sofan's lifeless corpse. He closed his eyes, his lips moving in silent prayer, a plea for forgiveness and strength. The other villagers looked at him, their gazes desperate and pleading. They needed guidance, needed someone to help them navigate this unfathomable loss.

“We continue to town!” Donnu bellowed, quietening everyone around him. “Sofan organized this here caravan and we should see it through!”

Turning away from the heartbreaking scene, Coleman let out a weary sigh. He reached up and removed his helmet, rubbing his eyes with a hand that trembled slightly. The weight of what they had done, the burden of the lives they had manipulated and destroyed, seemed to press down on him like a physical force.

He turned towards Ian and Elijah, who were casually leaning against the LRPV, their postures relaxed despite the tension in the air. "I'm assuming they bought it?" Coleman asked, his voice low and strained.

Coleman let out another sigh, a sound that was equal parts frustration and resignation. "I never wanted this to happen," he said, his tone heavy with regret. "I don't like the idea of whacking civilians just because they were doing something they believed was right, even if it went against our interests."

"And our operational security," Elijah added, wincing as Yana pulled at a few strands of his hair.

A flash of anger flashed across Coleman’s face as he shot him a quiet glare. But before he could respond, Ian chimed in, his heavy Australian accent cutting through the tension.

"Mate, relax. It was buttery smooth," Ian interjected in an almost inappropriately cheerful tone, given the gravity of the situation. "We have cooperating witnesses, we have a fall guy, and we have someone with skin in the game."

Coleman shook his head, a bitter laugh escaping his lips. "Buttery smooth," he repeated, the words tasting like ash in his mouth. "Is that what we're calling it now?" He shook his head but didn’t bother to comment any further.

A bout of silence passed as Ian and Elijah looked at each other for a few moments. They understood Coleman's reservations and his moral qualms. But they also knew that in the grand scheme of things, the success of their operation outweighed any individual life.

Eventually, Coleman nodded, but he wasn’t happy with how things went down. He knew that what they had done, while extremely abhorrent, was still necessary in the end. Another sigh left his mouth as he drifted towards the two prisoners being treated by the Australian medic in the back of the other LRPV.

He then turned to Elijah and looked at him with an expression full of curiosity and apprehension. "What are you gonna do with them?" he asked, his voice low and guarded. “I know you don’t like leaving loose ends.”

Elijah broke the biscuit in half as his team leader spoke and lifted it up so Yana could get the other half. The little fairy fluttered down and snatched the thing out of his fingertips before settling down on his shoulder with a mischievous grin. The two took a bite out of their respective treats at nearly the same time. It was almost as if the two had become completely in the sink, and it brought both Ian and Coleman no end to their bewilderment.

"Ya, sure, whatever," Elijah replied with a full mouth and stared at Coleman with a completely bored expression.

The team leader couldn’t help but be dumbfounded by the two as his gaze shifted from Elijah to the little hellion kicking away happily on his shoulder. Shaking his head, Coleman then turned and made his way to the caravan and its new leader, Donnu, to inform him of their next steps.

Another sigh left Coleman's mouth as he prepared himself to take part in Elijah’s machinations. “Fuckin’ hell…”

-

In another plane of reality, Yzael couldn’t help but yawn deeply as she stepped out of a sleek, black SUV. The fatigue that had been building up was starting to affect her posture as she stretched her back out, eliciting a few satisfying cracks.

The poor elf had found herself climbing into a metal tube and flying across these lands, meeting and later instructing several human scholars on the very fundamentals of the Arcane. However, when they asked for her most powerful spell, she shifted nervously as she started to cast it. She wasn’t the most powerful mage when it came to combat. Her specialty lay with understanding and manipulating the essence of magic itself, not causing destruction.

Luckily the human scholars seemed more than impressed with her pitiful display as she sent a bolt of pure arcane into a block of steel. The bolt had completely pierced it and sent arcane shards splintering in every direction on both sides, perforating everything else that lay near it.

Yzael half expected a few disdainful laughs while the rest pretended to cheer in disappointment, but to her surprise, everyone in the room erupted into ecstatic excitement. The celebration of her feat was so infectious that the woman couldn’t help but flare in self-importance and put her hands on her hips while smiling smugly at the scholars.

If there were one thing Yzael could compare that experience to, it would be as if showing a tribe of uncontacted and isolated humans magic for the first time. Which, now that Yzael thought about it… was exactly what it was. Albeit she was demonstrating her powers to an entire advanced civilization and not a tribe, the essence of the thought remained the same.

Scratching behind her ear, Yzael continued to slink tiredly towards an impressive structure with expansive glass facades reflecting the early morning sun as another yawn left her mouth. The building's design was a marvel of architecture, with its clean lines and geometric shapes creating a sense of elegance and authority. But as she approached, her tired eyes drifted over to a discreet plaque mounted off to the side that bore the inscription: Defense Advanced Research Projects Agency.

As Yzael made her way towards the imposing structure, an entire entourage of intense individuals who looked as if they stepped out of a high-stakes security detail surrounded her. Men and women in crisp dark suits moved with practiced efficiency, their eyes constantly scanning the area for any potential threats. Adding to the degree of protection, heavily armed guards in tactical gear shadowed them on every flank, their weapons at the ready.

Yzael couldn't help but feel a bit overwhelmed by the sheer level of security surrounding her. She was used to being treated with respect and deference back in her own world, but this was something else entirely. It was as if these humans viewed her as some sort of priceless treasure, something to be guarded at all costs.

With not much farther to go, Yzael came up to those infernal yellow sidewalk markers covered in small bumps, and low and beheld, she had stepped wrong on them yet again. The high heels of those strange professional pumps the mortal races seemed to like to wear slipped in an odd way, causing her to stumble forward. A yelp left her mouth as she nearly fell face-first onto the ground, but a rather sizable human guard caught her just in time.

"Are you okay, ma'am?" the guard asked, his voice filled with concern as he helped her regain her balance.

Yzael felt a flush of embarrassment as she straightened her blazer and brushed off her dark-colored skirt suit. "Yes, yes, I'm fine," she replied, trying to maintain any sense of dignity despite her near-tumble. "Thank you."

The guard nodded, and a hint of a smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. He stepped back, allowing her to proceed towards the entrance. Yzael couldn't understand for her life why the mortal races loved these infernal things. Beastkin, Sun-Elves, and humans from both sides of this damnable rift loved these infernal things. She glanced down and glared at her high-heeled pumps while a frown tugged at her delicate features.

Sure, they were fashionable and made one seem taller, but she never understood why anyone cared enough to be so uncomfortable while they walked. It seemed like a terrible price to pay for the sake of vanity, but Yzael had never been one to prioritize appearance over practicality.

As she reached the entrance of the building, Yzael was greeted by a pair of guards who snapped to attention, and their postures ramrod straight. They opened the doors for her, ushering her inside with a level of deference that was only afforded to high-level dignitaries and officials.

Nodding at the men awkwardly, Yzael stepped into the lobby and took in another sleek and modern interior that seemed to come standard with every governmental building. Everything was pristine and polished, from the gleaming floors to the minimalist furniture. It was a far cry from the ancient, ornate structures she was used to back home.

And to be honest, Yzael almost longed for more decorative designs for her home. She had become sick of those too, but at least there was some variety… However, she did catch glimpses of other interiors inside of other buildings as her little convoy ferried her around the city. She’d love nothing more than to go exploring, wandering from building to building just to see what was in it.

Suddenly a woman in a crisp business suit approached her, a tablet in hand. "Welcome, Lady Yzael," she said, her voice warm but professional. "We've been expecting you. If you'll follow me, I'll escort you to the briefing room."

Yzael nodded, trying to ignore the way her feet were already starting to ache in her uncomfortable shoes. She followed the woman down a series of hallways, and Yzael couldn’t help but glance at her guide's own choice of footwear. A wave of jealousy washed over the elf as she noticed the pair of stylish yet practical flats adorning the woman's feet. They seemed to accomplish the same task as Yzael's own high heels without the horrid, uncomfortable design.

The flats looked vastly more comfortable than whatever hell Yzael was currently wearing. She found herself seemingly boring a hole through the attendant's feet as they rode the elevator up and traveled down a series of hallways. Yzael silently cursed the fashion trends of both her own world and this strange, new one she found herself in.

Finally, they arrived in front of a pair of imposing double doors. Yzael took a moment to look around, finally noticing the flurry of activity as people went about their day at a dizzying pace. Most seemed to take a moment to gawk at her with wide eyes full of curiosity and wonder, before hurrying off to attend to their duties.

A pair of guards stationed at the double doors checked a few IDs before opening the doors, allowing Yzael and her guide inside. As she stepped into the room, Yzael was greeted by the sight of a high-level meeting already in progress.

The interior of the room was sleek and modern, with a large conference table dominating the center. Seated around the table were various individuals, each one exuding an air of importance and authority.

At the head of the table sat a distinguished-looking man with salt-and-pepper hair and a neatly trimmed beard. He stood as Yzael entered, a warm smile spreading across his face. "Lady Yzael," he said, his voice deep and welcoming. "It's a pleasure to have you join us. I'm Dr. Marcus Tillman, the Director of DARPA."

Yzael inclined her head, returning the smile. "The pleasure is mine, Dr. Tillman," she replied, trying to ignore how her feet were screaming in protest.

Dr. Tillman proceeded to introduce Yzael to the rest of the room. Having worked with the scientists and engineers from MIT, Caltech, and Stanford previously, she was already familiar with them. However, several new faces were in attendance.

"Allow me to introduce you to our industry partners," Dr. Tillman said, gesturing to a group of well-dressed individuals. "We have representatives from Lockheed Martin, General Dynamics, Northrop Grumman, Texas Instruments, and Raytheon here today."

Each representative stood and greeted Yzael in turn, their handshakes firm and their smiles polite. Yzael couldn't help but feel a bit overwhelmed by the sheer amount of brainpower and influence gathered in one room.

As everyone took their seats, the representatives from the various companies and institutions expressed their excitement at the prospect of working with her. "We're thrilled to have you here, Lady Yzael," the representative from Lockheed Martin said, his smile genuine. "Your insights into the mechanics of magic could revolutionize our understanding of these phenomena."

The others nodded in agreement, their faces alight with anticipation. Yzael couldn’t help but pound nervously in her chest. She thought she should tell them she wasn’t exactly the most competent combat mage, but she kept her mouth shut. She knew that the expectations placed upon her were high, but Yzael thought she should just sit and listen before opening her mouth.

Dr. Tillman then motioned for the meeting began in earnest as he cleared his throat, his expression turning serious. "As you all know, we've been working with several magic users to better understand how magic works and how to measure it," he began, his gaze sweeping the room. "However, we've encountered some… difficulties in grasping the finer details of the energies involved and how they interacted with… well everything."

He paused, seeming to gather his thoughts. "Most of the mages and magic users we've worked with have been able to teach us basic spells and demonstrate the effects of the arcane. But when it comes to the underlying mechanics, the why and how of it all, they've struggled to provide clear explanations."

The representative from Texas Instruments, a sharp-featured woman with keen eyes, nodded in agreement as she cleared her throat before speaking. "Yes, that's correct," she said, her voice crisp and professional. "Our colleagues in academia have spoken highly of your knowledge, Lady Yzael. We're very much looking forward to your insights into the fundamental nature of magical energy."

“Oh.” Yzael blinked in surprise as she peered around the room around her.

She couldn’t believe she wanted to learn about something she specialized in and not the usual destructive or enhancement spell most were known to pursue. Hells, even conjuration and illusion magic, was a lot more interesting to pursue rather than unraveling and harnessing the very nature of magic. Then again, her field of study is highly frowned upon at the best of times and would get you stuck to a pyre at the worst of times.

Yzael took a deep breath, organizing her thoughts. "Thank you all for your kind words," she began, her voice steady despite her nerves. Her expression then turned serious as she looked around the room, meeting the eyes of each representative. "But, before we proceed," she said, her voice low and cautious, "I feel I must warn you. The knowledge I possess, the understanding of the very essence of magic on a foundational level, is highly forbidden in my society. In other societies, it would be grounds for execution."

The room was silent for a long moment, the weight of Yzael's warning hanging in the air. Then, a man in a crisp suit, the representative from Lockheed Martin, leaned forward. His name tag read ‘David Thompson.’

"Lady Yzael," David said, his voice steady and assured, "with all due respect, we are not in your world. Any repercussions you would face for divulging this knowledge have no power here."

The others nodded in agreement as Yzael sat back in her chair, her look clear of surprise before it changed into slight embarrassment. Of course… of course that was the case. The laws and taboos of her world held no sway in this realm. Here, she was free to pursue her studies without fear of retribution.

A small smile tugged at the corner of her mouth as a sense of liberation washed over her. For the first time in her long life, she could truly delve into the mysteries of magic without constraint, without the constant fear of discovery and punishment.

She looked around the room again, noticing the eager, determined faces at the table. "Very well," she said with a clear and strong voice. “What would you like to know?"