Manifest Fantasy

“... covers the recon sweep of GB-2. Zulu-9 has the exfil and comms details in their supplemental.” Henry closed the folder and sat back, noting the sideways glances and wide eyes around the conference table. The room fell silent as Armstrong's command and scientific staff digested the information. From the Sentinel Lindwyrm to the facility’s artifacts and the Nobians, the GB-2 mission had uncovered more than they ever could have imagined.

Director Lombard seemed as antsy as her fellow scientists. Of course, Henry completely understood why. The Manifest Project had been chasing scraps for decades, ever since Area 51 was first constructed over the gateway. She probably expected to wait another several decades before anything interesting came up following the portal's activation. For Lombard, who had dedicated her entire career to unlocking the secrets of the Gatebuilders, the artifacts from GB-2 must have been the archaeological equivalent of hitting the lottery.

Dr. Perdue was just as excited – it was more than obvious. The creature’s scales alone, which had shrugged off .50 cal rounds and weathered 40mm grenades like a tank, promised to revolutionize their understanding of material science. And then there were the rumors of dragon parts being used in everything from top-quality local equipment to magical elixirs and treatments. Well, lindwyrms weren’t quite dragons, but they were close enough, right? If even half of the rumors were true, then they had at their fingertips an exclusive goldmine of discoveries.

Beside her, Dr. Lamarr seemed relatively composed, but Henry knew her. The darting eyes gave it away: while she was definitely interested in the report, she was dying to get back to the lab and poke around a bit more. The locator and storage devices alone could probably propel them a few hundred years ahead, if they could even figure out how these things worked. There wasn’t much a caveman – even a really smart one – could learn from a smartphone. He simply wouldn’t have the tools or the industry. Unlike the hypothetical caveman though, they had access to an entire Gatebuilder site, perhaps multiple if they could figure out how to crack open the various Gatebuilder towers around Armstrong.

Ambassador Perry, in contrast, looked like his kid just flunked a class. It was a pretty accurate assessment too, since the last time he looked like this was well, when his kid got a 1 in AP U.S. History. Anecdotes aside, it was pretty uncharacteristic of him – it suggested a concerning development, especially coupled with the fact that General Harding shared the very same look.

It didn’t take a genius to guess why they seemed so sour. The Nobian’s blatant disregard for the Grenden Accords was a red flag – a sign that they were growing bolder and more aggressive. The incident at Duke Vancor’s guest mansion, the Hardale quest, and now a violation of a long-standing treaty? If they were willing to risk open war with the Sonarans, it could only mean one of two things: either they'd amassed enough strength to no longer fear their neighbors, or they'd recognized the immense value of the Gatebuilder sites and were willing to do whatever it took to secure them. Maybe both.

Either way, the implications were grim. With only a thousand personnel at Armstrong Base, they were ill-equipped to face the full might of the Nobian Empire alone. The obvious answer would be to bring over more personnel, but that would mean risking a leak; Russian and Chinese satellites wouldn’t just ignore a huge convoy rolling into Area 51, disappearing into nowhere.

The second most obvious answer would be to cozy up with the Sonarans. Cultural contamination at that point wouldn’t even be a concern compared to how the Nobians would react. Would word of an alliance force their hand?

In any case, that was a problem for the General and the Ambassador, and their superiors. Henry shook off the thoughts and turned his attention to General Harding as he finished his sidebar conversations.

“Outstanding work, Captain Donnager,” Harding said. “The Nobians will certainly be an issue, but the artifacts and intelligence you’ve brought back are more than worth the trouble.”

“Couldn’t have asked for a better breakthrough,” Lombard added.

Despite all the issues, Henry certainly agreed. With a leak being the worst case scenario, there wasn’t too much to worry about. He nodded in response, waiting for them to continue.

Harding turned to Dr. Lamarr. “Speaking of breakthroughs, what’s your initial assessment on the artifacts? How soon can we start unpacking their secrets?”

“Well, General, it’s hard to say for certain until I can bring the artifacts back to Groom Lake. Electron microscope and all the other equipment’s back home,” Dr. Lamarr explained. “But based on a first glance and what Alpha Team has reported, it’s clear enough that these are light years beyond anything we have. I’d even venture to say they’re light years beyond anything we’ve seen in popular sci-fi shows, although there are a few contenders that are rather… ‘cultured’.”

“Hm…” General Harding crossed his arms, remaining silent.

Dr. Lamarr continued, speaking up before the silence could get awkward. “I have been able to, with the aid of Dr. Anderson,” she said, nodding to him, “conduct some preliminary examinations on the hologram-based artifact – the Locator. It’s been surprisingly intuitive, possibly owing to the Gatebuilders’ human physiology and psychology, we think. Anyway, we’ve identified some of its primary functions and have determined how to navigate its interface on a basic level.”

She held up the Locator, activating it. A map burst forth, smaller than the one that enveloped the room when Henry first interacted with it, but unmistakably of the same region. It looked like she figured out how to downsize it, at least.

She gestured to the display. “As you can see, the device seems to be primarily designed for navigation and information storage. The screen can project life-like holograms of maps, schematics, and virtual environments. I confirmed the location Captain Donnager pointed out earlier, the set of glasses right here.” She pointed to a spot within the Ovinne Mountains.

“I managed to find several other coordinates, but they seemed greyed out; locked. The one in the Ovinne Mountains is the only one we’re able to access currently. We should investigate this location as soon as possible. The more clues and artifacts we collect, the better I’ll be able to understand the Gatebuilders’ technologies.”

Harding nodded, but seemed hesitant. Henry knew the General agreed with Dr. Lamarr’s assessment, but getting there would be a whole other challenge. “We’ll make it a priority, Doctor,” he finally said.

Harding sighed, glancing at Dr. Perdue. They’d only had the Lindwyrm for an hour – not enough for a full study, but maybe enough for at least some preliminary insights. “Have we learned anything so far?”

Dr. Perdue gave a small nod. “We’ve barely scratched the surface, but initial scans are promising. Here, we noticed a few things that could be of interest.”

She tapped a few keys on her tablet, bringing up some rough scans before sharing them with a nearby display. “One of the first things that caught our attention was the creature’s blood vessels. They basically confirm what we theorized when comparing the vascular systems of the Rillifanes and other creatures we’ve dissected: they all have mana channels running through them. It looks like their circulatory systems are dual purpose: normal blood transportation for one, and then magical energy transport on top of that. For the Lindwyrm specifically, though, it’s incredibly dense – far surpassing the Celisyrin vine sample from last week. The potential for magic conductivity is… well, it’s impressive, to say the least.”

She swiped to a new image, this one a side-by-side comparison of the Lindwyrm’s skeletal structure and a dragon skeleton as recorded by Sanctum Arcanum. “Now, obviously, we’ll need to run more detailed comparisons to confirm the parallel. However, if true, then given the similarities between the Lindwyrm’s anatomy and dragon physiology, it could give us a starting point for predicting some of the Elemental Dragon’s capabilities. Its strength, its speed, maybe its abilities or mana capacity… we might – key word, might – be able to extrapolate from what we’re seeing in the Lindwyrm.”

“Now again, this is all very tentative. We’ll need a lot more analysis to draw any firm conclusions,” she said, bringing the images down from the display.

General Harding nodded slowly. “Understood, Doctor. Keep me and Captain Sinclair posted if you find anything new.” He then turned to Sinclair, nodding for her to begin her own report.

“As of 0800 this morning, my team has completed a preliminary analysis of the battlefield remains and artifacts recovered from GB-2 post engagement with Nobian forces. While there is still much work to be done, we’ve got several key findings to report.”

Captain Sinclair took a breath, opening with helmet cam footage from the battle itself. “First and foremost, the capabilities displayed by the Nobian forces aligned with our estimates, based on intelligence shared by the Sonarans. Given the observable effects and post-engagement analysis, we’ve assessed that the Nobian operators employed magically-enhanced archery, which allowed their arrows to achieve subsonic velocities and kinetic energy transfer comparable to modern high-powered rifles. For reference, arrows during the medieval era could reach speeds on average of 300 feet per second. The Nobian arrows exceeded 1,000 feet per second.”

Sinclair punctuated her briefing by bringing up a new image - this time the twisted remnants of a single Nobian arrow, its shaft splintered and head mangled into an oblique lump.

"We're still awaiting the full compositional assay results," she stated, "but preliminary spectroscopic scans indicate the arrowhead itself is fashioned from some sort of mithril-derivative alloy."

Yup, precisely what broke through Henry’s armor, and what the bandits used to crack their MRAP’s window when they first set out for Eldralore.

“Archmage Kelmithus, who has been consulting closely with us, has analyzed these enchantments and assessed they are consistent with advanced applications of the Wind Snipe spell, typically usable only by mages of Tier 5 proficiency or higher,” Sinclair went on. “The fact that every Nobian operative was able to employ these spells suggests their overall arcane capabilities met or exceeded that Tier threshold.”

“In addition to their enhanced archery,” she continued, “the Nobians appeared to be simultaneously employing physical enhancement magic, invisibility magic, and some form of wind magic to create protective air bubbles around themselves, which allowed them to sustain operations in proximity to our CR gas deployments – to an extent.”

The footage played out the harsh reality – several Nobians stumbling blindly through the dense gas clouds, coughing and choking uncontrollably as their cloaking spells flickered and fizzled. For the soldiers though, there was no reprieve. Fire and brimstone rained from the edges of the feed, sending bodies jerking in morbid staccato before they crumpled to the scorched earth. For all the incredible magic the Nobians could muster, they remained bound to the same physical vulnerabilities as any other combatants.

Only a few seemed to emerge largely unscathed - the lucky ones who'd managed to erect those protective wind bubbles before the gas started churning. Even then, their perceived immunity proved distressingly brief. The wind bubbles conformed tightly to their casters, giving away their location to Zulu-9, who responded expeditiously with automatic weapons fire and explosions.

Whether asphyxiated by airborne particulate or just straight-up pounded into oblivion, the result was the same. The flickering outlines of Nobians convulsed under those explosive onslaughts before crumpling into scorched heaps amidst the drifting smoke and dust. It was harrowing, but also reassuring – technology's supremacy announced in displays of overwhelming firepower.

“Upon reviewing the tactical footage and interviewing Alpha Team,” Sinclair's voice sliced through, “we've identified a strong correlation between the observed spellcasting and the presence of these amulets, which were recovered from every Nobian combatant.”

Another image filled the screen – this time of an ornate golden amulet inlaid with glowing blue crystals. Henry squinted at it, trying to recall if he'd actually noticed Nobians wearing those in the fray or if it had just blended into the general chaos.

Captain Sinclair explained, “Preliminary spectroscopic analysis of the amulets confirms the presence of high-grade mana crystals, which appear to have been significantly drained during the course of the engagement. Archmage Kelmithus has confirmed that these amulets are consistent with standard equipment enchantment practices, designed to amplify and sustain the wearer's mana output."

She brought up a comparison, showing a Tier 8 necklace alongside the Nobian counterpart.

“Based on the EMF signatures and comparative analysis against reference samples from Archmage Kelmithus and the other Sonaran scholars, we assess that these amulets likely increased each operator's effective mana capacity by a factor of two at minimum. They could probably sustain low to moderate spellcasting for, maybe…um, 2-3 hours? Less if they're slinging heavy-duty combat magic, but still – that's a significant force multiplier.”

So, it meant that the Nobians could probably stay cloaked for up to 3 hours straight. If he had known that just a day earlier, they probably could’ve just waited things out at GB-2. Sure, the Nobians would’ve still kept in wait, but at least they might’ve been able to drain their mana a bit, make the fight a bit easier. Well, it was good to know for next time.

Sinclair paused briefly. “Obviously our analysis is still preliminary at this stage. The Sonaran consultants have been understandably preoccupied dealing with Sergeant Jankowski's condition, so we haven't had a chance to thoroughly crosswalk their arcane expertise against our technical assessments yet.”

Harding gave a grim nod. “They've still got Jankowski in that coma, I take it?”

“Yes sir,” Sinclair confirmed. "Our doctors have been walking the Sonarans through human anatomical models and radiology scans to get them up to speed. But it’s uh… delicate, to put it lightly. That is, transferring that medical knowledge over in a way the healers can integrate their magic without accidentally fusing his skin to bone fragments, or worse."

Harding sighed. “Damned Nobians,” he spat, rage distilled to two words. Though, it wasn’t really rage that he registered in that moment – at least not for Henry. Rather, it was just the dull, viscous resentment that came with knowing the enemy’s bullshit had no sense.

Whatever it was, it burned away quick as receipts after an AAR. “Do we have any indication that they’re aware of our findings?”

“From what we can tell, sir, no indication they had actionable intel on the Locator or the site,” Sinclair reported. “However, it’s probable they learned of our expedition via assets embedded in Eldralore. Even if they knew there was a Sentinel Lindwyrm, deploying a sizable force from the Order of the Shadow suggests that they weren’t there simply to investigate the disappearance of the fog.”

True as it was, there wasn’t much they could do aside from try to cover their tracks better. “Understood,” Harding said, turning to Lamarr next. “Talk to me about this Ovinne site, then. What’re we looking at?”

Dr. Lamarr pulled up a topographical map, modeled from the Locator’s data. “Terrain-wise, I’d say it’s rugged, to put it mildly. The Locator tells us a lot about the layout of the facility and its location, but accessing it will be difficult.”

“Not to mention the fact that the entire area’s cordoned off by the Guild,” Sinclair interjected, the added reality check landing hard. “Access is restricted to Tier 7 Parties or Tier 5 adventurers operating as part of an established Clan.”

Harding exhaled deeply. Bureaucracy – the bane of everyone everywhere. “Well, don’t government entities get some kind of pass on these restrictions?”

Perry shook his head. “Yes, that is true, but uh… Our status is still… unresolved, for lack of a better term. We’ve only begun the process of establishing national sovereignty and petitioning for membership in governing bodies like the Guild.”

The General's frown deepened as the full implications set in. “So they don't currently recognize the U.S. government as a legitimate state actor yet?”

"That's correct." The hopeful lilt to Harding's question was swiftly undercut by Perry's frankly doubtful head shake. “Unfortunately…” And there it was - the sound of their lifeline being ever-so-politely severed.

Perry met Harding's gaze evenly. “Formal recognition and accession into a body like the Guild typically involves extended negotiations, verification of territorial claims, adherence to standardized legal frameworks and rights of membership. It's a very systematic process. And to be frank, only a few people within the Sonaran Federation, Nobian Empire, the Guild, and a few surrounding factions are even aware we exist.”

He paused briefly. “For a non-native entity like ourselves, it’s new. No one’s ever done this before – interplanetary relations. Not ourselves, not the native Gaerrans. So, asserting national personhood and having that status legitimized by bodies like the Guild...it could potentially take years to achieve the required consensus and approvals. Likely spanning multiple phases of negotiations, credentialing reviews, administrative benchmarks.”

Harding nodded slowly, jaw tightening as each hassle piled remorselessly onto his shoulders. “Bureaucratic hurdles, in other words.”

“Precisely, General.” A faint grin flickered across Perry's features, there and gone. "While our unique circumstances may allow for some expediting, we must still navigate the proper credentialing channels. Pushing too far outside those processes could jeopardize our international standing.”

That meant they had to get access through the guild. “Then we have two main options,” Henry said, “either we undergo the Tier promotion and get ourselves up to Tier 7, or we –”

Harding gave a curt shake of his head – it was a no-go, and understandably so. “Let’s table the Clan option for now.”

“That leaves us with the rank up,” Henry stated. He knew full well what that entailed – quests until they reached the threshold, then the Tier 7 test itself, then any administrative hoops – the whole nine yards.

“Might be a good time to explore joint training with the Sonarans, then,” Harding mused. “We’re gonna need to get used to fighting combatants capable of magic, anyway. We’ll have Alpha Team test the waters, work with one of their scholars in the lead-up to their evaluation.”

The General tossed out the fantastical idea sans garnish or even a raised eyebrow. Even something like this seemed normal now – cross-pollinating Alpha’s TACOPs with magical training. That is, if the Sonarans were willing.

The man paused, then looked at Perry to ask the question already formulating in Henry’s mind. “Ambassador? What do you think?”

The faintest crease popped up between Perry’s brows before disappearing as quickly as they formed – angles considered and ultimately deemed navigable. At least for this overture. “Ehh, shouldn’t be a problem. I can work it into the Lindwyrm study agreement as an additional provision.”

“Let’s pursue setting that up, then,” Harding said with a satisfied nod. They had secured the basics, but what would come next? He turned to Henry, “Captain, this will be a first for all of us – updating our TTPs with this stuff. What requirements do you anticipate for this integration?”

Well, it wasn’t an easy question to answer, especially without knowing exactly what to expect. How did Sonarans train with magic anyway? It’s not like he had any magic to accidentally burn his hair with. Might as well be honest. “Sir, I can’t give a definitive answer until we meet with possible instructors. I anticipate we’re gonna be figuring out a lot of this on the fly.”

Henry saw the General nod – the facts were obvious enough. The opportunity he now had in front of him, though, was a different story altogether. “However, I can say with certainty that magical capabilities represent a critical force multiplier we can’t afford to ignore. Learning how to adapt our current equipment against magical threats is necessary and can work, but I think we can do one better.”

He took a breath. He had never been this tense before, but then again, the stakes weren’t his this time around. Following a glance at Sera, he continued, “In light of this, I’d like to recommend integrating Seraphine ad Sindis into Alpha Team as our sixth member, with your approval.”

Henry caught the subtle lean in Harding’s posture and didn’t wait for the question.

“She’s an experienced Tier 8 adventurer from a noble lineage. Her talents would be a force multiplier and her pedigree could help smooth things over on diplomacy or get us access to conveniences we might need, like passage. And her experience against Gaerra’s native threats – humanoid or otherwise – would be invaluable in improving the efficiency of our tactics and adapting our approaches as situations might demand. More importantly…” Henry locked eyes with Sera. “She’s proven her proficiency in the field and that her commitment aligns with our own.”

Somehow, Henry felt like he was as anxious as Sera, waiting through Harding’s contemplation. It surprised him. Was he really this concerned over whether or not Sera was on his team?

General Harding’s response – and Henry’s reaction to said response, was more than enough of an answer. “Alright, I’ll approve it.”

Henry let out a breath he didn’t know he’d been holding.

“I’ll leave the process to you and Captain Sinclair,” Harding said. “You’ve already informed Lady Sera of what to expect?”

Henry nodded. “Absolutely, sir. Cultural lessons, BCT, the like. I’ve already thought up a possible curriculum as well.”

“Alright, good. Then that makes one problem down,” Harding sighed.

Indeed, that was one problem down, but the look on Dr. Lamarr's face suggested that that was just the tip of the iceberg. “Honestly, that’s… that’s just it, though – it’s only one problem. The bigger challenge lies with the, uh, the environmental conditions.”

Perdue picked up the thread. “The elevated ambient mana levels in that region. Much more dense than what we’ve seen at GB-2.”

They all knew what that meant, Henry and Alpha Team more than anyone else. Well, Ron specifically. It was understandable – he wouldn’t want to play the role of a piñata either. And if there was still any lingering uncertainty, it was thoroughly cleared by Perdue spelling it out for them.

“It’s no coincidence that the Ovinne Mountain Campaign takes place in the same general region. Following the trend of monster strength versus mana density, it’s highly likely that the Elemental Dragon is guarding the Ovinne site, much like how the Sentinel Lindwyrm guarded GB-2.”

Ryan’s chair creaked in protest as he rocked back, feigning nonchalance. “Top of the food chain, huh?” Was it a mask? With Ryan, Henry could barely tell. For the others, though, they all knew the truth, cold and obdurate as a concrete T-wall.

More than cold, it was a truth they didn’t want to hear – an unflinching obstacle. If they wanted to get into the next Gatebuilder site, they needed to take out a Tier 10 monster, the highest on the Guild’s system. And given the logarithmic nature of the system, a Tier 10 represented an utterly unknown upper limit of strength.

TOW missiles represented the best anti-armor option they could mount on their MRAPs, Switchblades excluded. They were potent enough to delete most Tier 8s from the gameboard. But against Tier 9s? They could barely hold their own. What the hell would they need to use against Tier 10s?

Of course, they could jump the gun and go straight to nukes, but that was their trump card. An exciting thought experiment, no doubt, and something Henry wouldn’t mind seeing. Though probably far less thrilling for whatever Pentagon and National Command Authority officials had to navigate the approval processes to actually get a live warhead transloaded to Gaerra. Probably not too fun for Chief Cole, either.

Naturally, Ryan’s comment was met with only silence. No one knew what to say – neither their immediate thoughts on the matter, nor the obvious solution in the back of their minds.

“So, what do we know?” Harding finally grated out.

Time to lay it out. Spikes and Hellfires wouldn’t be the best options against a Tier 10, but it wasn’t as if they didn’t have anything stronger than them but weaker than nukes. Henry organized his thoughts for a moment, starting with what they knew of Tier 10 threats in general.

“The Guild has few records on them, but most Tier 10 threats typically don’t have any significant weaknesses – at least not in terms of their base characteristics. They can hit hard, they can take hard hits, and they can think hard. Some are capable of human-level intelligence, others make up for it with magic abilities.”

Admittedly, it was shit intel. It gave them no real sense of the Elemental Dragon’s capabilities aside from what they already knew – a creature like that would no doubt be stronger, smarter, and overall better than the Lindwyrm. Sera, on the other hand, seemed to know more. With a raised hand, she began, “You speak true of the might such creatures may possess. Perhaps a tale of my father’s own exploits may shed light on what we could face.”

Sera continued after a nod from General Harding. “This dates back near a century and two decades past, ere my father had hung up his sword. His Party had been tasked with clearing a Baranthurian site for the Sanctum Arcanum – it was an ancient base, a fortress, perhaps. They soon found something dreadful there, a Ravalisk Behemoth.”

The Guild didn’t have much information on those, either, but from the sketches he’d seen, he could tell they were no joke. They definitely looked like a ‘lisk’ – something more suited for an alien hivemind than a fantasy world.

“No spell nor blade could so much as dent its dark carapace. And… they – my Father and his Party – had easily triumphed over Tier 9 monsters. They had likely thought their abilities sufficient, but nay. They realized their error in rousing such a beast, and so survival became their priority. It was only by my Father’s quick wits that total ruin was averted.”

Sera continued, “See, they’d espied a stockpile during their investigation – something akin to fyrite, barrels of oil, mana crystals: a ‘munitions dump’, as you might say. And thus they devised a desperate gambit. While some engaged the Ravalisk’s attention, others destabilized structural supports throughout the ruin. All the while, they prepared to ignite the explosives.”

“Using the ruins themselves to trap the Ravalisk within, they ran and ran, then struck the area with lightning from afar. The conflagration that followed was a sight to behold, according to my Father. That ancient fortress, made of materials of strength we know little of, was reduced to ash. Even a quarter league away, the eruption battered them. Indeed, the crater remains there to this day. If this Elemental Dragon rivals the menace they faced that day, then equal devastation may be the least that is required to humble it.”

A quarter league was like what, around a kilometer? Henry wasn’t sure how much of the story was true, but if the details were to be believed, then Spikes and Hellfires definitely wouldn’t be enough.

Isaac was already a step ahead of him. “Yup. Forget a flying tank; we’re probably dealing with a flying battleship. I don’t think we can use anything short of GBU-57s or TLAMs.”

Harding looked worse for wear – not so much because they were about to engage a Tier 10 dragon, but because of the sheer complexity of coordinating the deployment. “That means we’d need to get strategic bombers and Typhon systems over here…” he grumbled.

“Better than the nuclear option, sir,” Henry offered some consolation.

“Fair enough,” the General sighed. “Any other concerns?”

Of course, it didn’t stop there. Sinclair didn’t even hesitate to be the bearer of bad news. “Entry corridors into Ovinnegard, sir.”

Her blunt statement was followed up by another one, this time from Perry. “Through standard diplomatic channels, we’re looking at a 4 to 6 month window, realistically, to get overflight and transit permissions.”

Harding’s eyebrows shot up; it seemed ridiculous. “Four to six months? That long?”

Perry only shrugged. “Ovinnegard’s bureaucratic processes are slow. They’re way behind us in tech.”

That made Harding exhale heavily. “That’s… too long. Other options?”

“I may have something,” Perry said, straightening in his seat.

The tone made it seem like there was a heavy catch – but was there ever not a catch when it came to politics? Harding gestured for him to continue.

“I can leverage our relations with Duke Vancor to arrange a meeting between ourselves and the Ovinnish embassy in Eldralore. Apparently, the Duke’s on good terms with Ovinnegard. Hopefully they’ll make an exception for us.”

“Can we add this as another provision to the Lindwyrm study agreement?” Harding asked.

“Ehh…” Perry scratched his chin.

Perry’s reaction made sense; it might be asking for too much. “Alright,” Harding conceded. “Let’s see what he might want. Get me a scope on that and I’ll see what accommodations we can provide, within reason.”

“In the meantime, let’s focus on what we can do,” Harding nodded to everyone. “I want a full range of options for everything we’ve discussed in 72 hours,” he said, turning to Henry, “plus the proposal for Sera’s integration. After that, you’re free to enjoy a week of downtime, Alpha Team. Dismissed.”

– –

Adventurer’s Guild

Eldralore, Sonaran Federation

Of course, the first thing they needed to do was confirm the completion of their quest and collect their rewards. Henry led them straight to the main counter, recognizing Mira’s bubblegum pink hair tied back in its customary braid. Typical of the woman, her polished workspace was predictably fastidious – not so much as a stray parchment marring its seamless order. If only the DMV was like that.

“Why, if it isn’t me favorite adventurers, plus the Queen of Cinders!” Mira’s bubbly voice rang out as they approached. “Come to regale me with another epic tale, have ye?”

Henry smirked at her countrified shtick, but played along. “You know it, Miss Lenton. We’re here to report a completed quest,” he said, handing her the corresponding quest scroll.

“Isn’t that grand!” She clapped her hands together with relish before accepting and unfurling the scroll. “Looks like the Sanctum Arcanum’s already confirmed it for ye!” One hand then dipped beneath the counter’s surface, riffling through some unseen cache before resurfacing with a simple cream-colored envelope.

“Just needs yer confirmation on the details,” Mira said, holding it out to him.

Henry scanned the receipt, finding the usual listing of quest particulars, objective parameters, and rewards. At the bottom – the total lumens to be credited to their Party Account upon completion: a nice, cold 100,000.

Henry gave a succinct nod and stowed it away. “Looks good.”

“Splendid! I’ll have it processed posthaste!” Mira made a few notations in her ledger before stamping a section with a wax seal.

She looked back up at them with a polite smile. “An’ for yer supplemental rewards…”

Mira stepped over to a series of shelves and cabinets behind the counter, retrieving a parcel about the size of a box of cake. She held out the package for Henry. “Standard issue supplies fer a Tier 8 quest, plus some crystals an’ ore samples, courtesy o’ the Sanctum Arcanum.”

She then handed him a clipboard, which had a couple open spaces for signatures. “So,” Mira said, turning her attention to Sera, “the solitary Queen of Cinders? Found a Party, have ye? Or perhaps… a daring an’ dashing hero?”

Henry looked up from the clipboard, glancing back at Sera. Not quite a bright-red tomato, but he could tell she was flustered by the question. He smirked, going back to the signatures while Sera grasped at a response. “Well, a daring and dashing hero, you say? Hah,” she flipped her silvery hair over her shoulder, “I suppose every heroine needs her daring counterpart to make the tales more… compelling.”

“Is that so?” Mira’s voice became sultry. Complementing her change of tone with a wink, she slid a blank form across the counter. “In that case, why don’t I give ye the Party Amendment form? Just complete it an’ drop by when yer set to induct her into Alpha Team.”

Henry collected the form with a smile. “You got it.”

“Right then!” Mira’s grin shone. “Was there aught else needin’ me hospitalities? Quest listings to peruse, perhaps? Appraisals for yer latest spoils?”

“Yeah, actually. Uh, what can you tell us about the requirements for the Tier 7 evaluation?” Henry asked. “I think we’ve just about accumulated the needed experience.”

Mira’s pinched expression said it all – she was already bracing to deflect his request. “Well… based on the records, yer party is still 14 Tier 6 quests shy of the experience threshold, truthfully.”

Here it came. The obligatory caveat dangling the possibility of a consolation prize. “Not that yer higher Tier quests don’t factor in, o’course…”

It was a possibility Henry had expected, and had prepared for during the drive here. Nothing ventured, nothing gained. He had to at least fight for it. “We’ve completed two Tier 8 quests for the Sanctum Arcanum, plus several Tier 7 quests already. And we took down a Sentinel Lindwyrm on one of those. Surely that’s worth more than a bunch of Tier 6 quests.”

He let the words hang there, calibrated tonally between statement and challenge. He could tell Mira was caught between his logic and the Guild’s policies. There had been prior cases of premature evaluations, some well-earned, some mistakes. At the end of the day, the Guild had apparently decided to leave it to the discretion of the staff themselves.

It seemed she leaned toward ‘yes’, but the decision was plucked from her hands before she could answer. “Requesting an evaluation exemption, I hear? Bold, but hardly unique.”

Henry pivoted to see an imposingly broad-shouldered form striding towards them – Guildmaster Taldren ad Vorne himself. For a warrior growing elderly even by elven standards, the man’s chiseled features and severe blue eyes belonged more to a commander than a bureaucrat.

Though he stood barely taller than Henry, Taldren’s bulk still managed to add a seemingly physical inch to his presence. His armor-clad shoulders strained like a draft horse’s against the studded leather gambeson. He had to give it to the Guildmaster, he was probably among one of the most intimidating men he’d ever met, and he knew a lot of Tier 1 operators back home.

“If you seek special dispensation, know that the Guild’s standards are sacrosanct; not so easily bent.” There was an edge to the elf’s clipped bass tones. Not hostility, but… certainty. Assured certainty in his own hard-earned mastery and an explicit expectation of competent candor in kind.

Their case had to be unassailable, but Henry felt confident. “Just looking for consideration given the stakes of our operations. Two Sanctum Arcanum Tier 8 quests and defeating a Tier 9 Sentinel Lindwyrm, as mentioned.”

Taldren nodded. “Very well. I’ll hear you. Join me in my office, and let your argument speak for itself.”

He turned and started walking before Henry could respond, forcing them to quickly fall into step behind the imposing Guildmaster. Taldren led them through a vaulted arch past the training hall, the ambient sounds of the lobby and tavern fading behind them.

As they followed the Guildmaster’s broad shoulders down a curved hallway, they passed by various artifacts and trophies adorning alcoves in the walls. Stuffed wyverns and fangs of all sizes, from vorikhas to fenywyrms and others Henry could scarcely recognize. Each had a plaque describing their origins from epic hunts and glorious Campaigns. It was like walking through a museum of the Guild’s most daring exploits, which was a lot considering Eldralore only represented one city’s branch.

Finally, Taldren stopped before an unassuming wooden door and grasped the handle, throwing it open to usher them inside with a curt sweep of his other arm. “Please, take a seat.”

His office was… underwhelming, all things considered. It was an austere, almost barren space adorned with the barest essential amenities: a heavy oak desk flanked by two high-backed leather chairs. Two couches separated by a coffee table. Shelves of tomes and ledgers. Racks of mundane but high quality equipment like coils of rope, pitons, potions, and other practical adventuring gear. A mount with a fancy-looking recurve bow with an almost orange glow – something that Ron would no doubt classify as ‘epic’ loot.

The only embellishments present hinted at Taldren's accomplishments - a tattered Sonaran banner hanging from one wall, and a dented breastplate suspended in a case beside his desk, scored by what looked like deep claw marks. All in all, it was a very Spartan-looking office. A solid choice in aesthetics, Henry had to admit.

As they took their seats on the couches, Taldren leaned on his desk. “Your achievements precede you, Alpha Team. I grant you this exception. The Tier 7 evaluation is yours to undertake, beginning on the morrow. Should you require more time, we conduct evaluations bimonthly.”

Well, that was a bombshell. Henry shared a look with his teammates. No one expected such an easy persuasion.

“I appreciate your understanding,” Dr. Anderson started, “but why?”

Taldren’s explanation was nonchalant. “My reasons are manifold. Foremost, the Sanctum Arcanum’s endorsement. Then, there’s the matter of the Nobians and the Guild’s neutrality policy. I trust you can discern the rest, Dr. Anderson.”

One look at the Doc’s face was all it took to confirm Taldren’s words. Politics was a fickle thing, inescapable no matter what reality one finds themselves in. As a branch of the Sonaran government, the Sanctum Arcanum understood well that their research was contingent on the U.S. military’s ability to secure relevant materials.

On top of that, the Guildmaster made it explicitly clear that he was a Sonaran at heart. He couldn’t interfere, but that didn’t mean the same applied to Alpha Team, if they coincidentally engage hostile forces that just so happen to be Nobian. And who knew what else was at play. The Guild’s interest in the U.S.? Their interest in the Gatebuilder sites, if they even knew of their existence?

“And Lady Sera, a word,” Taldren continued, turning to face her. “I advise you to defer signing the Party Amendement form until their evaluation is concluded. A matter of fairness, you understand.”

“Of course, Sir Taldren,” Sera acknowledged with a deferential nod.

Taldren returned the nod curtly. “Very well. The evaluation phases will be arduous. Prepare accordingly, and I bid you fortune.”