Manifest Fantasy

Armstrong Base, Grenden Plains

Sera stirred from her slumber, eyes fluttering open in the comfortable darkness of her room. For once, she felt properly rested. Now, what ungodly hour might it be? She squinted at the glowing figures upon the nightstand. 0543. At least her inner clock hadn't gone daft in this realm of machines and electricity. One less matter to relearn in this magic-barren base, if she didn’t count their strange 24-hour time.

She stretched, grudgingly admitting that the bed was... not wholly disagreeable. Not a patch on her feather-down mattress back home, to be sure, but leagues better than the flea-ridden sacks some taverns dared call beds. These Americans might lack sorcery, but it was clear they knew the craft of a decent mattress.

With a sigh that was half vexation, half anticipation, Sera hauled herself from her repose. Time to face another day of bewildering Earth customs and contraptions. Joy of joys.

Sera rushed through her morning routine, unable to help a small thrill at the unfailing hot water. Still a marvel, that was. No enchantments here, just reliable... what had the Americans called it? Plumbing. Hah. As if mere pipes and valves, bereft of any whisper of magic, could hope to match their systems back home. Still, Sera had to admit, it was a relief not to fret over an errant surge of magic turning her morning wash into a scalding ordeal. Perhaps there was something to be said for their mundane methods after all.

Clean and marginally more awake, Sera eyed the neatly folded pile of olive drab awaiting her. Fashion fit for a mud farmer, mayhap, but needs must. She lifted the shirt, testing the strange fabric. The quality and softness came as a surprise. “Well,” she muttered. “At least it is not burlap.”

It was easy to put on, practical if anything. Yet, as she looked in the mirror, it was painfully more obvious how… ugly it was. Heavens above, what manner of joyless tailor dreamt up this excuse for a uniform? She twisted around, catching all the angles. It did fit her figure well, but the colors! How awful they were.

Still, she’d be a fool to ignore the cleverness behind the design. Under the cover of leaves and at a distance, they’d be as invisible as a Nobian assassin – a vital trait, especially in the face of weapons like the Americans’ guns. Perhaps there was wisdom in blending with dirt and shadow when even the most hardened adamantium might as well be parchment.

Sera ran her enchanted brush through her hair, frowning slightly. The strokes smoothed her locks as always, but the ambient magic… why, it was like wading through treacle. Thick, heavy, near overwhelming.

How could these Americans not notice? Aye, they lacked the gift to control mana, but surely they must feel something. Like a man born deaf thrust into the heart of a raging tempest - he'd not hear the thunder, true, but he'd feel it rattling his very bones. Did these Earth folk even know what manner of power they'd built their base upon, or did they just see through those ‘EMF meters’ of theirs?

Sera scooped up her materials and paused at the door, hand hovering over the handle. She felt like a dwarf in an elven city. What fresh nonsense would this day bring? Another morn of stumbling through American customs like a novice adventurer on her first quest, no doubt. At least she'd faced worse. Probably.

She flung open the door, glancing down at her map. Briefing Room C... Down the hall, left at the junction, then two floors up. The base's layout was a damned sight more sensible than most dungeons she'd plumbed, she'd give it that. Probably no mimic door handles to watch for either, more's the pity. Might liven things up a touch.

Sera trudged through the corridors, stifling a yawn. Somehow, the base was already alive. Did these Americans never sleep? The soldiers hurrying about reminded her of the palace on the morn of a royal decree. At least there were no bleary-eyed courtiers stumbling about, reeking of last night's revelry.

Door after door slid past, each bearing some manner of numerical sigil. Sera snorted. As if any soul with half a wit could lose their way in this orderly maze. Though, perhaps their own strongholds and castles could learn a thing or two from these orderly Americans.

Eventually, Briefing Room C loomed before her, and Sera paused, smoothing down her uniform with a grimace. She sighed. Goodness, she felt like a child playing at soldiers. But needs must, and if these Americans insisted on such dreary attire, who was she to argue?

She entered, recognizing the two women who had helped her settle in the eve past – Lieutenant Zoe Nakamura and Staff Sergeant Emilia Kovács. It was a relief to see familiar faces, though their intriguing names still vexed her tongue.

Her gaze fell upon the device clutched in the Lieutenant’s hands – something she’d seen Dr. Anderson use before. This ‘tablet’ was a far cry from the delicate scrolls and tomes she knew, yet it held their attention as surely as any arcane text. Built of sterner stuff than it appeared, no doubt. Like as not, it would survive even Lord Harron's legendary fits of pique.

“Good morning, Ms. ad Sindis.” Nakamura looked up. “I trust you found your way without incident?”

Sera nodded.

“Good. Please have a seat.”

Sera settled into one of the chairs. And oh, what a chair it was! It swiveled and rolled like… well, like nothing she’d ever encountered. It was all she could do not to give it a merry spin. Perhaps later, when no one was looking.

“We’ll begin with an overview of your integration process and our objectives. Staff Sergeant Kovács will then brief you on today’s itinerary.” Nakamura tapped at her tablet, and the display on the wall erupted into light and color.

Sera bit the inside of her cheek slightly to keep from gawking. No matter how oft she witnessed it, this conjuring of images from naught never failed to surprise her. At least that accursed ‘loading’ circle was mercifully absent this time. One less vexation to endure.

Nakamura's hand moved, and the wall erupted into a riot of color. Sera blinked, focusing on what appeared to be a timeline stretching across several weeks. Colorful blocks dotted the expanse, each bearing a label of baffling brevity: CATP, BCT, SERE-C, OCC, and other abbreviations. What, did these Americans fear full words as a peasant fears plague? Mayhap they believed ink too dear to waste on complete terms.

“Ms. ad Sindis, your integration process will be intensive and tailored to your unique background and abilities. We'll begin with a week of orientation and familiarization.”

A whole week just to get acquainted? These Americans’ thoroughness rivaled that of a master scribe copying the king's own decree.

“This first week is crucial. We'll introduce you to American culture, customs, and technology. Think of it as a crash course in Earth living. We’ll also cover essential military protocols, including operational security – OPSEC, as we call it. This ensures you understand how to handle sensitive information, like what you might find in a Gatebuilder site, for example.”

Ah, the noble art of guarding one’s tongue. At least in that arena, the vipers’ nest of court life had already honed her skills to a keen edge.

“Following orientation, we’ll move into specialized training programs. This includes firearms training, our combat techniques, survival skills, and leadership integration training.”

Firearms training. Now there lay a promise of intrigue. Sera couldn’t imagine herself using the Americans’ weapons, but she’d seen Kelmithus use them with familiarity already, and there was nary a reason to allow herself to fall behind. Thunderous weapons that can pierce further than a wind snipe… mastering such power would be a worthy challenge indeed.

The lieutenant continued, “You’ll be going through what we call a Small Arms Master Gunner course. It’s quite comprehensive. You’ll learn how to shoot, maintain your weapon, and everything in between.” The display shifted again. “BCT stands for Basic Combat Training, and SERE-C is Survival, Evasion, Resistance, and Escape. All crucial skills for any soldier.”

They seemed no different than the various skills she had to learn as an adventurer. It seemed the Lieutenant could see through her as well as any diviner could, and she spoke again before Sera could even open her mouth.

“We know you’re not a fresh recruit. You’ve got skills – that’s why you’re here. We just wanna validate that you know what you know, and then sharpen your skills, and maybe even add some of our methods to your toolkit. It’ll come in handy when you’re working with our tech. You might find some of it… interesting.”

These Americans really left little to chance; they prepared for war with the meticulousness of an alchemist measuring reagents. Admirable, if a touch overwhelming. At least they weren’t treating her like some coddled noble who’d never seen the wrong end of a sword.

“Most importantly, we’ll be developing new protocols to integrate your abilities with our standard military doctrines. This is unprecedented territory; we’ll be learning as much from you as you will from us. Do you have any questions about the integration process?” Nakamura asked.

Nothing came to mind. If there was one thing about the elaborate procedure, it was, well, that it was extraordinarily elaborate. Actually, Sera did think of one thing. “This officer candidate training – what is it?”

“It typically prepares individuals for leadership roles within our military structure, which you’ll be learning more of later today. In your case, Ms. ad Sindis, we’re less concerned with rank and more focused on the skills themselves,” Nakamura explained.

Intriguing. So they sought not to chain her with their rigid hierarchy. What a relief. What would she do without her freedom as an adventurer?

“The course covers tactical decision-making, team leadership, and operational planning. We believe these skills will be crucial in helping you integrate your abilities with our standard operating procedures.”

Sera fought to still her lips, lest they betray her amusement. She had to admit, it had been quite a while since she had actually led any Party. Brushing up wouldn’t hurt.

“Furthermore,” Nakamura added, her tone taking on a hint of… what, eagerness? “This training will give you insight into how our military thinks and operates. It’s as much about you understanding us – and by extension, Alpha Team – as it is about honing your skills.”

“I see,” Sera said. “Your design sounds most… comprehensive.”

“Yeah. Now, unless you have any other questions, I’ll hand you over to Staff Sergeant Kovács for your daily schedule.”

Sera nodded, shifting her gaze to the other woman as she took over.

“Right, let’s go over today’s agenda. You’re already familiar with the command center and the mess hall and the living quarters, so we’ll take a look at the rest of the base. We’re gonna start with the motor pool – that’s where we keep our vehicles. Then we’ll visit the science wing and introduce you to Dr. Perdue and Dr. Lamarr. After that, it’s the logistics center to meet Chief Cole.”

The names sounded familiar – oft as mentions during her conversations with the members of Alpha Team.

“From 0900 to 1030, we’ll cover military structure and protocols. Ranks, chain of command, procedures – the works. There’s a break at 1030, then Sergeant Anson Choi will take over for communications training until lunch.”

Sera bit back a sigh. Another labyrinth of titles and protocols to navigate. It was like learning courtly etiquette all over again, only with more acronyms and less poisoned wine. The communications training though did pique her interest.

“Lunch is from 1200 to 1300. After that, Sergeant First Class Liam O’Connor will handle physical training standards and skill evaluation for the rest of the afternoon, with a short break in between.”

At last, something truly worth her time. The Americans fancied themselves warriors, did they? Well, she’d show them what Tier 8 adventuring prowess and a dash of magic could do. Perhaps their faces would prove more entertaining than their endless prattle about protocols.

“We’ll wrap up with a debrief at 1630. Any questions about the schedule, Ms. ad Sindis?”

Sera shook her head.

“Right, let’s get started with the tour then, shall we?”

Sera followed the Staff Sergeant outside. The base had expanded since her last visit, new structures sprouting like mushrooms after a spring rain. Prefabricated, Henry had called them. Sera snorted. As if assembling a building like some child's toy was aught to boast of. Still, she had to admit, the speed was... impressive – comparable even to the efficiency of higher tier earth mages.

"First stop, motor pool," Kovacs announced, leading her towards a section of packed grayish earth and metal.

Sera wrinkled her nose as they entered the area. What was that foul miasma? It smelled like an alchemist’s workshop combined with the metallic heat of a blacksmith’s furnace, nothing like the herb-scented halls of the Guild. Rows of those boxy vehicles stretched out before her, still alien, but no longer as bewildering as they once were. But something stood out – a set of behemoths that made the others seem as naught but toys.

What manner of vehicle was that? Long snouts, clattering tracks, and armor that mocked the very notion of arrows – it was unmistakably the ‘tanks’ Henry had oft spoken of. A band of men swarmed about them, daubing their hides with green hues. The machines shed their desert tan for something more apt for the Grenden Forest before her very eyes.

“Caught your eye? M1A2 Abrams,” Kovács said. “Main battle tanks. Just got ‘em in, actually. We’re in the middle of repainting them, so look only; don’t touch.”

The tanks were larger than even those lumbering UGVs, a feat she scarce thought possible. Many a weapon had she seen in her travels, from enchanted blades to Dwarven cannons. None could compare to this, not even the UGVs she’d seen lay waste to Nobian formations outside of the Gatebuilder site. “Captain Donnager spoke of these before. They ‘pack quite a punch’, as he said.”

Kovács smiled. “That’s putting it mildly. Remember that Sentinel Lindwyrm?”

As if Sera could forget.

“Well, this here darling could turn it into mincemeat. Just one of these could probably handle a whole family of those Lindwyrms.”

“Is that so?” She could see the tank defeating one, perhaps two, but more?

The Staff Sergeant continued, as if reading her mind – these people truly did have a gift for it, despite their lack of magic. “The autocannons you’ve probably seen so far on our UGVs and Apaches are 30 millimeters by 115 millimeters, shooting projectiles with a diameter similar to a soda can but much longer in length. Like, probably 2 or 3 cans stacked on top of each other in terms of length. Some of our stuff even gets to 5 cans stacked on top of each other. Nasty pieces of work, yeah, but peashooters compared to this.”

She jabbed a thumb at the tank’s snout, walking to the front to get a good look at it. “This here’s packing a 120 millimeter smoothbore cannon. Size matters,” Kovács smirked, “ but that ain’t the half of it.”

Sera chuckled as the American woman continued her explanation. “The ammo is just as important. Those 30 mils can fire high-explosive incendiary and armor-piercing variants – effective even against Lindwyrm scales, but this baby? Depleted uranium sabot rounds.”

Sera tilted her head. She understood perhaps one word out of four: ‘rounds’.

“Basically, they can punch through a good like, 2 or 3 feet of solid steel. Let’s just say whatever’s inside won’t be pretty afterward,” Kovács explained. The woman then flashed a smile, akin to an adventurer who just purchased a new weapon. “One shot, one kill. That’s the Abrams’ motto. And against most monsters? I’d bet it’d hold true.”

And hold true it very well might. If such a construct was truly rated for ‘2 or 3 feet of solid steel’, then even a Sentinel Lindwyrm would fall in a single shot.

“It’s got range for days, as well –”

She hadn’t heard that term before. “Range for days?” Sera asked.

The Staff Sergeant looked up to the man atop the vehicle’s head, who only gave a shrug. “Uh, for days. Like, a lot of. Over 4 kilometers.”

Sera recalled one of the words Lieutenant Owens had never deigned to teach her – nay, one she’d gleaned from his frequent use of it. “Hella range?”

“Yes! Exactly!” Kovács beamed. “Wait, ‘hella’? Where the hell’d you learn that?”

“A quaint young man in Alpha Team,” Sera answered honestly.

“Well look at that, you’re adapting already. But yeah,” the Staff Sergeant said, turning back to face the tank, “we designed these for warfare on Earth, but they’re for sure to be just as damn useful – probably necessary, too – here. Giant monsters, magical constructs – nothing’s too big for an Abrams to handle.”

The woman’s stiff bearing had melted away, replaced by the fervor of a scholar expounding upon their latest enchantment or breakthrough in spellcrafting. It was… oddly reminiscent of the Academy’s halls.

“Aye, it is a fearsome beast indeed.” Sera looked the tank up and down. She tried seeking familiar points of reference, but no success. Alas, it was like comparing a crossbow to a fireball. There was naught of its design that she could fathom, yet one truth rang clear – this metal beast would sunder an Adamantium Golem as easily as a mace rends a wooden shield.

Kovács leaned in close. “Just wait till you see one in action.” She checked her watch. “But that’s enough of that. Let’s take a look at the airstrip before we move on to the science wing.”

Kovács led her away from the motor pool’s reek of oil and metal, guiding her to a stretch of gray as flat and barren as a petrified lake. Why, it dwarfed even the grandest plazas of Sonara!

“Our airstrip,” Kovács declared, arm sweeping across the vast nothingness.

“Where…” Sera began.

“Out on a sortie – familiarizing themselves with our surroundings,” the American woman replied. “Lucky for us, means we can take a proper look without pissing off the ground crews.”

How most convenient. Here Sera stood, upon the very grounds where those metal birds supposedly took flight, and nary a one in sight. It was like attending a joust with no knights present.

They strolled along the strip’s edge, Kovács explanations washing over her. Hangar, taxiway, control tower – the names meant little and less without the beasts they housed and guided. The vast expanse of flat grayish stone stretched before her, a road for the mysterious ‘planes’ to gather speed ere leaping skyward.

She swept her gaze across the empty sky. Would one appear at any moment? The silence was disappointing. Well, at least she had the Staff Sergeant’s eager explanations and the whisper of the wind to keep her company. How different it must be when these planes were about.

A piercing wail cut through the air, interrupting her thoughts. It reminded her of a banshee, though mercifully lacking the power to liquefy one’s innards. Had some fell beast breached the base’s defenses? Nay, Kovács seemed untroubled, nigh ecstatic even.

“F-35B,” the woman said, pointing skyward.

Sera followed her line of sight. Could it be? A metal shape tore through the clouds, unlike any beast she’d ever seen. It was sleek, like a Falquor in a dive. No dragon nor griffyn had ever cut through the air with such precision and speed.

The craft slowed, then… stopped. It hung there, suspended, as if the laws of nature were naught but trifles to be ignored. Sera blinked hard. Surely, the vision would vanish like a mirage, right? Nay, the machine remained.

How did it stay aloft? No flapping wings, no spinning blades as the Apache helicopters beheld. She narrowed her eyes and it thus became evident: it must be poised upon that impossible column of fire spewing out of its tail. It descended slowly, drowning them out in a loud whine until suddenly, it ceased and the craft was on solid ground.

“I don’t suppose you’d consider bartering one of those for a few enchanted swords?” Sera asked, only half in jest. Every noble lady she’d known had dreamt of taming a dragon at least once in their lives. This? Now this was a beast beyond even those aspirations. What stood before her was steel dragon that could outrace a Falquor – nay, perhaps it might even outrace an arrow propelled by Sir Taldren’s Wind Snipe. Indeed, such a mount would make anyone seethe with jealousy.

They would remain mere dreams, however. Kovács’ chuckle heralded the disappointing, but expected news. “Sorry, these babies are strictly off-limits. C’mon, let’s head to the science wing. You’ll get to see more airshows in the coming days, anyway.”

Sera's shoulders sagged, though she knew better than to expect aught else. Military folk and their toys, be they steel or spell, were alike across worlds it seemed. Nary a chance to lay hands upon them without a lifetime's worth of paperwork and the blessings of a dozen petty officials.

She followed the Staff Sergeant outside, trailing her as they walked toward the gateway. Off to the side, there stood a larger set of those prefabricated structures. Kovács led them through a checkpoint, then another, then another.

Why, these Americans left no quarter when it came to security! If it was not the guards, it was the strange devices that beckoned Kovács’ card, followed by her thumb or eye. In her travels, Sera had seen many a fortified keep, but nothing quite like this. No swords, no shields – yet she wagered these Americans could bar entry as effectively as any portcullis, if not more. Fascinating, truly.

They entered another briefing room that looked similar to the last. Two women awaited them, clad in long white coats that marked them as scholars – scientists.

The taller one had striking looks and hair that was a cascade of gold. “You must be Lady Seraphine! I’m Dr. Emma Lamarr. Alpha Team has told me quite a lot about you!”

How often did Henry speak to this woman? “What have they said?”

“For starters, they’re real impressed with your skills and magic. Couldn’t have gotten through GB-2 without your and Kelmithus’ help. Thanks for retrieving the artifacts, by the way. I can’t wait to show you what we’ve found so far!”

Sera blinked, a bit taken aback by the woman’s exuberance. Since when did scholars greet adventurers with such… enthusiasm? Well, perhaps Kelmithus, but he was indeed an exception.

The other woman, more reserved in her manner, offered a slight nod. “It’s nice to finally meet you, Miss ad Sindis. I’m Dr. Perdue. We’re quite interested in the Lindwyrm and Spiranid samples you’ve helped procure.”

Ah, there was the scholarly demeanor she’d expected. Sera inclined her head in return. “Well met, good doctors. I trust the artifacts and the Spiranid Queen’s remains proved fruitful for your studies? It was no small feat to fell such a beast, I’ll have you know.”

The animated one – Dr. Lamarr – lit up like a mage who’d just stumbled upon a lost grimoire. “Fruitful? It’s amazing! That Locator you brought back is packed with information about Gatebuilder sites.”

Sera raised an eyebrow. In truth, she'd scarce given thought to the device since relinquishing it to these eager scholars. “And pray tell, what secrets has it yielded beyond the Ovinne Mountains?”

“We’ve identified dozens of potential Gatebuilder locations from the map,” the woman said, understandably excited. “We’re still working on mapping them out. The local geography around the respective sites might have changed over the years, so we’re being cautious.”

Dozens? By the gods. Each one like as not to be crawling with abominations or guarded by beasts of legend. A fine mess they’d gotten themselves into, and no mistake. But well worth the glory to be earned.

“I trust you’ve some method of choosing which deathtrap to spring first?”

“Mhmm,” Dr. Lamarr nodded. “We’re trying to prioritize them based on the data we can interpret so far. I hate to admit it, but it’s hard to tell, so we’re going based off facility size and distance from the base. It’ll probably keep us busy for a while.”

Aye, busy indeed. Busy dodging fell beasts and alien hazards, more like. Still, it was the path she’d chosen, was it not?

The woman’s grin spread wider, if such a thing were possible. “Now, wanna see something cool?”

“Yeah,” Sera said, drawing an intrigued look from the two scientists.

She followed Dr. Lamarr out of the briefing room and down a short passage. As they crossed the threshold of their destination, a peculiar scent met her nose. It was crisp, clean – not unlike that of an apothecary. The air held an unnatural freshness, as if some magic continuously purified it.

The chamber beyond was a curious melange of the familiar and the utterly foreign. One half bore equipment that put her in mind of an artificer’s workshop – tools and devices that she could hardly recognize. The other half… Sera squinted. Those odd contraptions and containment units bore an uncanny resemblance to the relics she’d encountered in Baranthurian ruins, albeit looking distinctly more advanced.

Through a window of glass thicker than her arm, Sera beheld the gateway itself. Seeing any Gatebuilder construct up close was always a sobering sight, to be sure.

Lamarr approached one of the containment units, navigating around stacks of crates that were yet to be unpacked. “Here’s where we keep the Gatebuilder artifacts. We’re still setting up most of our equipment, so we’re focused on basic scans and containment for now.”

She brought her over to a display, gesturing grandly toward the charts and numbers on it. “See these readings? They indicate some seriously exotic materials. We’re light-years away from understanding how they work, but man, the potential! The sheer potential!”

Sera gazed upon it, fighting the urge to squint like some befuddled peasant. Indeed, what stood before her was math and charts, but it remained incomprehensible. It may as well have been the ravings of a mad oracle, scrawled in Orcish. “Not unlike our scholars’ perspective on the Baranthurian ruins,” she said, trying to mask her confusion.

“Precisely! But on quite a larger scale. The Gatebuilders were probably hundreds of thousands, if not millions of years ahead of us.”

Dr. Perdue cleared her throat. “If we’re done with the artifact show-and-tell, perhaps we could move on to the biological samples?”

She beckoned Sera to approach a strange device festooned with multiple lenses. “This is a microscope. It allows us to examine things too small for the naked eye to see.” Perdue adjusted something on it. “Take a look. This is a sample of Lindwyrm blood vessels.”

Sera leaned forward, peering through the eyepiece as instructed. At first, she saw naught but a bewildering array of shapes, but then she noticed it – a pattern. The view reminded her of the structure of celisyrin vine and the design of Baranthurian mana conduits. “Fascinating. Have you attempted any practical applications? We oft use monster parts in potions or equipment.”

“We’re not quite ready for practical applications. However, I imagine it won’t be long before we try our hand at creating new equipment. Perhaps we could arrange a more… structured debriefing session?” Perdue suggested. “We have access to the books provided by your government, but having an expert on hand would make the research a lot smoother – and Mister ad Helis is a bit too busy.”

Sera could not even muster a reply before Dr. Lamarr added, “Oh! And your equipment too! Those enchanted weapons and armor of yours… they’re simply fascinating.”

These scientists seemed to know their craft, even if it was far removed from the magic she knew. And had they not handled the Gatebuilder relics with utmost care? “Well… I suppose I won’t be using them for some weeks. We can start with something small. My vambraces, perhaps?”

“Yes! That would be absolutely fantastic!”

As Kovács ushered them toward the exit, Lamarr turned back. “Oh, and should you stumble upon any more little uh… oddities in your travels – specimens, artifacts, anything of the sort – we’d be real grateful if you’d bring them our way. Every little bit helps!”

These scientists would surely be in for a surprise. What would they make of a basilisk egg? Might be worth the trouble just to see their faces.

Kovács led Sera towards the gateway, the Americans’ defenses growing as they approached. Thrice-walled, like some great lord’s keep, but wrought of stuff strange to her eyes – smooth grey ‘stone’ that mirrored the grayness of the American structures. Guards stood watch at each checkpoint, positioned before colossal machines that surely probed the traffic with an efficiency to humble the most exacting of city gatekeepers.

The road upon which the traffic traversed was split in twain, marked clearer than any Sera had trod in all her travels. One path for entering, another for leaving, simple enough. When she asked about the possibility of visiting Earth someday, Kovács’ response was noncommital. The Staff Sergeant merely gave a ‘maybe,’ conditional on the General’s approval – on trust. Trust, ha! These Americans guarded their secrets as fiercely as any Guild, for all their talk of alliance. Their soldiers walked freely through Gaerra, yet a glimpse of theirs remained out of reach. What marvels – or perils – lay beyond that guarded gateway?

Then came the ‘logistics hub’, a large gathering of supplies sprawled beneath a pavilion vast enough to shame the grandest of Eldralore’s markets and bazaars. Within, chaos reigned supreme, as if a Clan readied for a great Campaign. Why, the chaos would even be enough to make a Guildmaster weep.

Amidst the fray stood Chief Warrant Officer Cole, a man of slight build but thunderous voice. If Sera were to be admitted to Alpha Team, she would oft interact with this man – for quest preparations and depositing materials. It seemed this ‘Cole’ was as a master merchant establishing a new post in a foreign city. How he mastered this madness and even dared to seize more, Sera knew not.

After introductions, Cole showed them around. Sera had first been drawn to the wall lined with the Americans’ fearsome weapons – guns of varying sizes and the devastating tubes that Ron had boasted as ‘launchers’. Inspiring, perhaps, yet it was the opposite wall that truly gave her pause. There, familiar mana crystals shone like captive stars, nestled amongst crates marked by the Americans’ abbreviations and alphabet.

Healing potions, their green fluids clear as day, stood beside these crates. Even without magic, these Americans were keen to recognize the utility of potions. And there! Cloaks and shields she’d stake her life were crafted by Sonaran tailors and smiths. What game were these Americans trying to play at? To amass such artifacts of her realm, one might think they fancied themselves adventurers.

The defenses the American stronghold boasted were no less surprising. Why, they would bring a tear to the eye of even the most battle-hardened siege-master. The same gray stone – ‘concrete’, the Staff Sergeant had finally revealed – stretched further than aught Sera had ever seen in city fortifications, encircling the base. It was also topped with wire that would give even a manticore pause if it ever thought to scale such walls.

The perimeter was further defended by patrols and constructs akin to golems – ‘automated sentry guns’ – yet more fell and unerring in their vigilance. Not even the fiercest of fireballs could breach this place, that was certain. Sera could scarce help wonder what havoc such defenses would wreak upon a traditional assault. The Nobian Empire might do well to reconsider any design they harbored to test these Americans’ mettle.

The rest of the landmarks blurred together past that: barracks as orderly as an uptight elf’s wardrobe, the mess hall Sera had visited before, training grounds that she’d be familiar with ere long. Alas, that was the end of their tour. Fie upon it, now the Staff Sergeant would regale her with the tedium of military structure and protocol, a prospect as enticing as a cold bath on a winter’s morning.

And thus it began. The American system’s logic was not entirely foreign to her understanding, having been schooled in the hierarchies of the Sonaran military and the Adventurer’s Guild. The notion of ‘standardization’ and that it was promulgated so widely that every soldier, from highest to lowest, did operate from the selfsame playbook, was a feat most singular and fair.

The Guild’s Tiers were basic enough, if only as a means of categorizing Adventurers and difficulties by status. While the Sonaran military’s chain of command was a step above in terms of order, it could be hindered by personal affinities and feudal obligations. The military of these Otherworlders? They combined the best of both worlds – plain communication, defined roles, yet enough freedom to allow each person to ply their trade with greater efficacy.

The clear chain of command was as Henry claimed – one that could have forestalled many of the disputes and power struggles that had rent asunder so many Parties. No more wrangling over who held sway or whose plan to follow. She knew who made the decisions, and she trusted them to make wise choices.

It was undeniably a more admirable structure, a far cry from the world of adventuring, wherein might oft made right. Complex and convoluted as well, compared to the systems she’d known, but for good reason.

Sergeant Choi’s instruction on the ‘JTRS’ communication system seemed to hammer in that point. The array of terms that accompanied ‘proper’ communications for the American radio stood a testament to their complexity. Yet, Sera would take these any day over the vague cries of ‘over yonder!’ or ‘behind you!’ that she was wont to use.

Forsooth, it surpassed even the Mithril Order’s protocols. At least it left scant room for misinterpretation. And that, in the heat of battle, could prove the difference twixt life and death.

The ambush in Ytther, wherein Tancred had attacked the wrong target due to a misheard plan? The final straw in Lorranius, where Livia was nearly killed because of Lucan’s plain idiocy? If only they had coordination and communication like this. They would’ve never had to brush so closely with death. Nevertheless, dwelling on past regrets would change naught.

Choi continued his lecture until eventually, his voice became a hum in the background, drowned out by the rumbling in Sera’s stomach as the clock ticked ever closer to lunchtime. Finally, Choi dismissed her, and she found her way to the mess hall. Henry had promised her that the ‘cheeseburgers’ on the menu were a true wonder, surpassing all others – and made all the more tantalizing by the fact that they were fashioned from Rillifane meat and cav cheese. Truly, it was a dish that might finally sate her hunger, till she could prove her mettle to the Americans in feats of arms or get her hands on their curious firearms.