Sergeant Mathew Ryder ducked behind cover as AK rounds impacted the surrounding area. Turning to his squad, he directed half of them to provide cover fire while the rest blitzed. The American soldiers engaged the Cartels while the others rushed on the hot concrete.

He rushed past a wounded soldier who was caught in the ambush. Two others stopped to assist the wounded while other soldiers took cover with two old pickup trucks. The soldiers opened fire against the Cartels, catching some off guard. However, heavy machine gun fire coming from the warehouses opened fire against the Americans, tearing apart their cover. A Chinese robotic soldier broke through the thin metal walls and started spraying the American platoon, stopping their assault.

Ryder ducked down. Seeing his radio man, he grabbed the handle from the pack and contacted air support. Quickly enough, MQ-8 Chickasaw II attacked the helicopter hovering overhead, firing its chain gun, which made quick work of the Cartel defenders and their robotic soldier defenders.

Hearing the Platoon lieutenant give the order to assault, Ryder and his squad dismounted from their position and headed toward the warehouse. He left the pickup and rushed toward the large old building, stopping as this strange yellow-green glow passed him, causing him to stop for a moment. That was when he saw a Cartel member emerging from his protection, which he was able to neutralize before being gunned down.

Making his way inside, his team blew through the door and stormed inside. Gunfire could be heard instantly. Ryder followed quickly behind, engaging with the retreating Cartels. Once the door opened, it instantly turned into tight quarters with short firefights. As he marched through the hallway, the forward soldiers fired shots down the hall.

At the end of the hallway, the American squad entered the main warehouse. The room was mostly empty with only four open crates; however, a large square cage held dozens of people.

A firefight began as the Cartels opened fire. The American squad pushed forward. They went back to the hostiles, and Ryder saw children and a few young adults—all dirty, bruised, numbers on their arms or foreheads for some unknown destination.

"To your right!"

Hearing a voice, Ryder turned right and saw a young man emerging from one of the crates and fired his QBZ292. A bullet impacted the side of his battle plating, scraping it. He returned fire, hitting the target.

Sergeant Ryder rushed toward the young man, seeing that the man was dead. The Cartel sympathizer was wearing upper-class clothing, now stained in blood. This was not an unusual sight in the war, seeing many young far-left anti-border idealistic NGOs siding with human traffickers. Not for money but some utopian fantasy.

The warehouse was won, and Ryder walked to the cage. The sight didn't affect him, as this was not the first time he had witnessed such barbarism. However, he suddenly stopped and stared at one of the children. A girl who looked like Assiaya. As he leaned in to investigate, the girl glowed as a new face emerged, leaning toward him. She had a youthful, feminine face with long, curly hair flowing down her face. Thin but long ears point past the two small rose-like flowers on her hair.

A bright glow suddenly blinded him, and the world crashed.

April 8th, 2068 (military calendar)

Salva, the former Confederacy of Daru'uie

Nevali Region, Aldrida, Alagore

*****

Ryder rubbed his nose, exhausted after a long, sleepless night. He focused on his Neko Head Maid as she navigated around the couch, holding a tray of American bottled water and small glasses of Roman vinegar and garnet wine. She was efficient and polite—easily noticed, yet forgetfully approached each guest. No one needed to request service; she had already anticipated everyone's needs. He couldn't tell if the Neko was naturally this skilled as a servant or simply trying to impress him, knowing how the new city Duke and his people had misconstrued the context of her work.

Working alongside Ceka, Ryder's Head Maid was Assiaya. His daughter wore her royal elven clothing: a vibrant green dress with intricate brown accents, adorned with white ruffled trim, a corset-style bodice, and matching thigh-high stockings paired with decorative sandals. She followed the Neko, speaking with everyone and thanking them for coming. Most would take issue with a young Princess assisting a servant—considering it unladylike—but it didn't bother him. It would be hard to correct six years of training in a few weeks, and he was in no hurry to fight her servant's heart.

Only a few were invited to this gathering. In addition to his daughter, their Head Maid, himself, Natilite, Rommel King, motuia advisor Varitan Yeldan, and their two Horatius guests—Flavius-Elpidius Antius and Alfredus Canina—were present. As this was their first interaction with anyone from the Hispana Republic, he didn't want outside distractions during the initial encounter.

He understood that Hispana sponsored Natilite and Fraeya's mission to open the Bridge—a last-ditch effort to change the course of a losing global war. However, based on the two female members of Comanche, he had learned that their perceptions of Earth's people were radically different from reality. This was something he was hoping wouldn't become a problem.

Assiaya approached the two Legionaries and said, "As Princess of Salva, I want to thank you for helping my Father and friends. You are welcome in my city as friends."

"Capitaneus Antius, commander of the Horatius Palatini. Official representative of the Imperium and Hispana Republic—I accept your gratitude and was honored to assist the Altaerrie."

"Now the formalities are finished," Assiaya said. "What were your travels like? Was your adventure here as bad as Father's and mine?"

"I was wondering the same thing," Natilite said. "I was not expecting to make contact with Hispana or the Thali'ean for another three or four months."

"It was not easy getting here," Antius said before turning to the dual-eyed Princess. "I do not know your adventures, but my friend could explain it better."

"There is not much to jest," Canina said. "Most of the Aristocracy has been focused on you, allowing us to slip through."

"What about passing through the Orc territories?" Natilite asked.

"That was complicated," Canina replied, taking a bottle of wine from Ceka. "An orc pack ambushed us, but we easily crushed them."

"Luckily," Antius said, "we were better organized and equipped. After killing their leader, the rest routed like the barbaric cowards they were."

"Those yellow, rotten tusks were no match for the Legionaries," Canina stated. "If you Altaerrie are going to stand your guard, you might want to use your technology and purge them from these lands."

What the Hispana commander said didn't sit right with the Comanche Captain. The context of casually proposing to purge an entire group of people because of racial or cultural difference was something his people worked hard to walk away from. Granted, with mixed results. There was always war, and in it, horrible decisions had to be made to win, but those should never be that casual. However, he had yet to fight a twenty-year war of survival.

That was when he noticed his daughter turn to him with the same reaction, waiting for his response. "I understand we are new to this world, but let's not insult the Orcs," he said.

"An orc sympathizer, I see," Canina commented.

"That is not what he meant," Natilite said. "Remember, they are not from this world. The racial dynamic is new to these humans."

"Then let me gracefully lecture some history," Canina said. "Before the birth of the Republic, we had been in a forever war against the Orc clans. They attack, they raid, they destroy everything we build—and we respond in kind."

"They blame us for why they are stuck in the lesser races," Antius added. "Quartering alongside the J'avais for generations, they have never been able to carve out an empire for themselves. Every attempt to civilize the blue beasts has brought nothing but betrayal."

Natilite took a deep breath and crossed her arms. "I hate to say it, Matt, but they are right. The Lat-Orc legend states that the tusk race brought the Lats to this world, robbing them of their birthright to civilization. There has never been peace since."

"And with our arrival," Ryder said, "it proved all of that true—at least to some context."

"The Senate will not like this," Antius said. "It will only embolden the Orcs to align with the Unity."

Ryder placed his hands on his hips in frustration—not from the blanket racism the two Lats were stating. He would not quickly judge racial relations in a world he had only been in for two months. These people had thousands of years of history and weight behind their decisions. Besides, they were not the only ones; he noticed similar hatred among the vampires and J'avais, fellow humans. However, there was one detail he refused to overlook.

"Look," Ryder said. "I am not judging the racial geopolitics of this world. After my experience with the vampires and J'avais, I understand how easy it is to hate them, but I am not going to say all orcs are evil—worthy to be purged. I get the history, but that is a red line."

The response surprised Antius, who now stared directly at the Comanche Captain. "You are defending those who recently attacked your city and killed your comrades?"

Assiaya came to the Captain's side, allowing him to place his hand on her shoulder. He recalled the horrific and desperate state he had been in and how the only reason they were alive was because of strange alien kindness. "When we were escaping through the wilderness, if it were not for that Orc farm family, we would be dead. They nursed my wounds after two laryenas mauled me, fed us, gave me a hunting circiletum, and guided us through the forest. I won't disrespect their kindness with blanket racism."

Antius took a deep breath and crossed his arms. "Odd an Orc would provide a Lat-human aid, but fair enough."

"Speaking of fair," Assiaya said, "can I get refills?"

A few placed orders for refills, and Assiaya walked away into the back room. Ryder realized what his daughter was doing—defusing the tension. He wondered if it was a trick she had witnessed during her time with Kallem.

The Princess returned, followed by the Head Maid, and handed out drinks.

"I will admit," Antius said, "besides Alfredus, I have never been a guest of royalty. This is not what I imagined it to be."

"That was only once," Canina said.

"You are guests at my Father's House," Assiaya said. "And this is the first time I have ever seen anyone from Hispana, so it is a great honor."

"And let's not forget saving our asses," King said.

When Ryder grabbed a small wine glass, he held it in the air. "As Captain of the Minutemen—"

"And Duke of Salva," Natilite added.

Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.

The Captain felt slightly annoyed by the additional comment but refused to respond, knowing she was right. This was the point of this American royalty stunt that the Army was engaging in. He had not enjoyed publicly calling himself by such a title for fear of what others would think.

Ryder continued, "Thank you for your assistance in the forest and for saving my team."

Antius raised his drink. "Those who fight must draw swords together or find themselves alone on the battlefield."

"I can drink to that," Ryder said.

Everyone in the room stood and raised their glasses before drinking their wine—except for Assiaya, who drank juice.

Once finished, Ceka started collecting the empty bottles and glasses. The newly installed Princess noticed and quickly helped collect the drinks before following their Head Maid into the back room.

"I do have to admit," Antius said, "I am confused by this arrangement you and the Princess have."

"It comes from her being Kallem's slave," Natilite said.

"My daughter enjoys being a servant," Ryder said. "It doesn't hurt, so I allow it."

"It is surprising," Antius said. "All this time, we believed the daughter was murdered during the fall."

Natilite quickly took the center of the room, stopping before the Capitaneus. "It was a tragedy what happened to the Balan family. When the girl was freed, she did not have to reclaim her birthright and could have lived a simple life. But Assiaya chose to retake the throne. It was her idea to become our political leader against Unity, and from Mathew's love, she decided to bear the responsibility of royal life to protect her."

Flavius-Elpidius Antius stared at the Valkyrie with confusion, then crossed his arms and turned toward the Captain. "Is that how you gained your title?" he asked.

Ryder nodded. "Overall, yes. I was not going to let politicians from any world manipulate my daughter, so this became the agreement. My daughter takes the throne, and I have parental rights. In return, I must play House politics for the war effort."

"Interesting," Canina said.

"It seems we all are playing a role for someone," Antius said. "What bothers me is why you did not disclose your title when we first met."

Rommel King walked over, placing his arm around the Comanche Captain, and proudly said, "He is a bit shy on the subject. Give him time."

"That explains why they label you as the false duke," Canina said.

"What do you mean?" Ryder asked.

"Nothing to alarm yourself," Antius said. "Many villages and traders we passed labeled you and Assiaya as a false House—especially you, Mathew Ryder. Do not worry; it might fade over time. This is typical of those who have just become nobles."

"I hope not," Ryder replied, shrugging his friend off. "I am a Captain first. I am just doing this for my daughter."

"You do not have to declare that at every opportunity," Natilite said. "Embrace what you are. Hackett and Sherman have."

Feeling frustrated about the subject, Ryder was about to counter; however, he saw his two Hispana guests chuckling among themselves. "I take it you think we were a joke?"

"Yes," Canina stated.

"But in a good manner," Antius said, trying to correct his Centurion. "The thing was, we arrived through the city gates and saw how different you humans were. At first, we assumed these differences would be too great; however, tonight has shed some light on our concerns. Let us say tonight has been assurance."

"Well," Ryder said, "I am glad my insecurities have been humbled."

That was when Ryder saw his political advisor walk over and whisper.

"You must be more diplomatic, My Lord," Yeldan said. "What you say here will have lasting effects on your character—let alone reinforce the enemy propaganda that you are a false noble."

The Captain groaned, knowing Yeldan was correct. He nodded, lightly waving off his advisor. "I apologize for my mannerisms."

"Understood," Assiaya said. "We are all friends here."

Assiaya walked into the room holding a tray of drinks and moved toward everyone, offering beverages and snacks.

"Thank you," Antius said. "As I said before, seeing someone of royal blood acting as a servant is unusual."

"It is the only thing I learned under Kallem's rule," Assiaya said. "Besides, I do enjoy helping."

"I do like to know," Canina said, "how did you two escape?"

Assiaya's eyes widened with excitement, and she began explaining their story: how she asked for Tekali's aid, how her new Father offended her former master enough to have a Knighthood capture him, their two-day duel, and their great escape with poison and a final fight before being chased like animals through the wild by adventurers, an Akuma orilla construct, and a J'avais pack until Natilite saved them.

"I guess we weren't there," King said, nudging the Captain. The Princess then began apologizing, leaving out the rest of Comanche.

Ryder recalled every moment of that adventure—something he never wanted to repeat. However, he didn't remember his team fighting at the fork, as he had already passed out. He smirked. "I do not know. A J'avais tazed me with a reversed staff by then."

"I will remember that the next time you are captured," King said before the two chuckled.

Once Assiaya explained how she took the throne, the Altaerrie struggled to recruit allies because they were alien foreigners. They wanted to show the people of Alagore that they were not Unity and sought cooperation, not conquest.

Folen Elstina Antius put his hand on his chin and listened carefully. "What a tale. I see why you value that orc family."

"That, and why I value my team," Ryder said. "I owe my life to Natilite and Rommel."

Ryder saw Alfredus Canina raise his bottle into the air when he finished speaking, followed by Flavius-Elpidius Antius.

"We might be from different worlds," Antius said, "but I will drink with a commander who values those under his command. Whatever differences we have, hopefully, the warrior spirit will be enough to unite us against a common enemy."

"I can drink to that," Ryder said.

Almost on the dot, Ceka walked around the room with additional drinks for everyone. Once the group had their drinks, they cheered.

April 8th, 2068 (military calendar)

Raven Turtle Tavern, Salva, the former Confederacy of Daru'uie

Nevali Region, Aldrida, Alagore

*****

Hearing another busy night at the local tavern, Benjamin Ford leaned back on the dark red wooden bench, finally mentally checking out from his daily duties. As every night, other Special Forces teams were scattered throughout the room—some from the Minutemen. The British and Japanese teams were in their section among some civilians and militia.

The atmosphere was cheerful as always, yet Ford could sense something was off—not in a negative way, but something was still amiss. He assumed it had to do with their new allies; the Palatini of Horatius were sitting alongside Comanche. No one was disrespectful, but the townsfolk kept their distance. From the local grumblings he'd overheard these past few weeks, the Sergeant understood there was resentment over the Coalition's withdrawal after Kallem's annexation. He had never thought much about it before, but it seemed the distrust of being abandoned after six years still lingered.

"Is this a normal custom for your people?" Kirath asked.

Barrett turned to the Neko. "It's a Comanche tradition. You saved one of our men, so—free round of drinks."

"I wouldn't say they saved me," Gonzales said.

During the last engagement, the Comanche medic had stepped on a rune—its effect equivalent to an anti-personnel landmine. Still struggling to walk, he'd been treated with a combination of burning gel, luxmancy magic, and Horatius healer Rosa's skills, making his recovery faster than expected—at least enough to be stuck in an aid station bunk.

"I do not like this custom," Rosa said.

Her response baffled Ford. "Really?"

The giant dark-gray, black- and brown-striped Luperca laughed loudly. "The only reason she says that is because we always have to rescue her." Rosa's ears drooped before she poked her fingers together. "Not always."

The Horatius Neko, Kirath Trimptus, began telling a story about a Kitsune team member who'd been captured during a recon mission. She had failed to seduce a guard, been taken inside a compound, and forced the Palatini to mount a rescue inside a Unity facility. There were chuckles from the Horatius soldiers, while the healer squirmed with embarrassment, trying to justify why her plan hadn't worked.

In the meantime, Ford noticed Staff Sergeant Kurt Forest and Sergeant Bruno Barrios setting down two trays of liquor—mulsum (Roman honey wine), mystic blue miruvor (blue wine), and polë whiskeui (wheat whiskey).

"Sorry for the wait," Forest said. "Big order."

"Are you sure?" Vestalis asked. "This is a lot to drink."

The Luperca called Derion reached over, grabbed a quarter-gallon bottle of wheat whiskey, and popped the cap. "Only for you small stomachs."

Barrios leaned back, whistling as he watched Derion chug the elfish whiskey. "Damn. He's got me beat."

Ford watched as the Sergeant First Class—the most senior Comanche present—poured the drinks into pints, then prepared them for both teams. Barrett set a small bucket on the table. "Fraeya, can you use your water magic to make ice cubes?"

Ford was surprised to see the elf girl wearing magical gloves. He'd seen her use them in combat, but at a tavern? For a simple spell? "Do you need gloves for a simple spell?" "Normally, no," Fraeya said. "It depends on the type of spell. Frozen magic could engulf me in ice if I cast it wrong. I do not believe I need to explain the consequences."

Ford didn't need a lecture—he'd seen soldiers in this war trapped inside ice domes from Aristocracy and Unity artillery shells. Once trapped, there was no hope; for Fraeya, one mistake could have cost her an arm. It hadn't occurred to him how dangerous magic could be for its user.

As Fraeya dropped ice cubes into each glass from her palm, Barrett passed the drinks around. To Ford's surprise, there was no confusion. While he wasn't a historian, he knew chilled drinks were a luxury before refrigeration. When he asked about it, Fraeya explained that hydromancy magic had solved refrigeration centuries ago—though limited to mages with the skill, or more recently, enchanted devices, which were still rare among the underclasses.

"Can I ask a question?" Rosa said. When given a nod, she continued, "From what I understand, you do not use mages to make cheap ice?" "Cheap is an understatement," Higgins said. "The only time we think about water costs is at the store for parties," Forest said. "Back home, every house has an automatic ice maker." "That is impressive," Rosa said. "At least you people understand iced drinks," Barrios added. "It took us a hundred years to convince our English allies that warm drinks are heresy," Wallace said. "I still do not get it," Rosa repeated. "Oh!" Fraeya said, nearly bouncing in her seat. "You'll say that a lot." "Are you sure they are Lats?" Kirath asked. "I have been around humans all my life, and you people are strange." "Don't worry, furry ears," Wallace said. "We've been saying the same thing about you. Welcome to the club."

Gregory Barrett raised his pint. "Then let's declare it. Cheers for finding each other bafflingly annoying."

The thirteen people at the large round table drank. Some, like Darius Rutilus and the Twins, cheered loudly; others, like Ælia Valhana and Kurt Forest, were more reserved, still learning to trust their new allies.

Ælia, the Horatius Noble Elf, stared at her pint. "This is an Altaerrie drink, correct? Is it spicy?" "Not at all," Ford said. "If you want spicy, I can get you Eagle Helens. That'll leave a punch." She sipped, closed her eyes briefly, then set the pint down. "Not spicy, but strong." "Not a drinker, I see," Ford said. Fraeya leaned in. "I'm surprised. I thought you'd enjoy hot sustenance—being a pyromancy mage." Ælia composed herself. "Being a pyromancy mage does not mean I enjoy hot or spicy ingredients."

The Luperca slammed the empty whiskey bottle down, burping loudly. "So, you are the Altaerrie. I hope you fight as well as your brew." "That's a tall order," Wallace said. "But," Barrios added, "I believe a carpet run will prove we are." "Carpet?" Derion asked. "That fur wealthy plebeians place on the floor?" "Exactly that," Barrios said with a smirk. "Down to the exact letters, my furry friend." "I once had a girlfriend with a pink carpet and giant white dots everywhere," Wallace said, spreading his hands. "Now that would intimidate the enemy." "Ignore them," Barrett said. "I do that with all humans," Ælia commented, taking another sip. "Ignore Ælia," Rosa said. "You know how dragon elves can be. Still, I'd like to see more of your people. Your weapons are so different from ours."

"We have no idea what dragon elves are," Forest said. "I'd guess they're red-skinned, but Ælia isn't." Fraeya explained, "Dragon elves are Clans who master dragons. They're less a type of elf and more a faction—living outside the Realm of Thali'ean." Ælia added, "Dragons are destructive. Thali'ean high society disapproves of our way of life, so we do not engage with them. That is all I will say." "Fair enough," Forest said. "What about you, fur ball?" The Luperca chuckled. "I am Derion-Luciferus, from Clan Warclaw. Loyal to the Republic since its founding. We have Senate seats and have fought in every war." Vestalis added, "What he means is, during Hispana's founding, our people struck a deal with the Luperca clans: concede lands in exchange for Senate seats." "You forced your country on them?" Higgins said. "Typical human." "Charlie," Fraeya said, "remember—there are other types of humans, not just sapiens." Vestalis frowned. "Sapiens? I thought you called yourselves Altaerrie?" "That's your people's term," Ford said. "We have our own names in our world." "I'd like to see that research," Vestalis said. "Let's not spoil the party with academics," Wallace said.

"I have another question," Rosa said, leaning forward. "What is your home like?" "That's a loaded question," Forest said. "I'll take a shot," Ford said. "We're a Republic—fifty-four semi-independent nations, about four hundred million people. A continental superpower under a three-hundred-year-old Constitution." "A continent-sized Empire?" Ælia said. "You sound like the Unity." "Don't be pessimistic," Vestalis said. Higgins cut in, "I guess my issue is fighting for a country that some of you have no real say in. Does Rosa's people have a Senate seat? Social injustice is insane." "Not the place, my friend," Forest said.

"You have one species on Altaerrie," Rutilus said. "How are you more complicated?" "They lack perspective," Ælia said. Derion chuckled. "Like you when we first met?" "When the lady is right, she's right," Barrett said. "If it wasn't for the war, relations with Salva would be strained." "Is that why your leader pretends to be a false noble?" Vestalis asked.

Silence. "His majesty is fake, all right," Higgins said. "How did you know?" Ford asked. "It was obvious," Vestalis said. Kirath explained, "Ovidius comes from a noble family. He knows the type—and your leader isn't one." "I believe the Boss would agree," Wallace said. Fraeya added, "The U.S. doesn't have nobles. He volunteered because he adopted Princess Assiaya." "A country with no nobles?" Vestalis said. "Hard to imagine." "Don't take it personally," Higgins said. "We have rich people who pay off politicians." "Different world," Vestalis said. "Same politics."

"Ovidius Vestalis," Ford said. "If you're a noble, why are you in the infantry?" "That's why I'm here," Vestalis replied. "When the Republic declares a Punic War, nobles serve." "Punic War?" Gonzales asked. "It means total war," Ælia said. "Unconditional victory or erasure from history." "Nothing in between?" Gonzales asked. "Victory or death," Barrett said. "The Senate has only declared a few," Rutilus said. "The last was during the Kiriyak Expansion." "And that's why I'm here," Vestalis said. "Everything has been transformed to survive the Unity Crusade." "To the death," Ælia said.

Ford saw the dedication in their tone. Americans hadn't fought for survival on home soil since 1812. For Hispana, it was existence itself at stake.

Gregory Barrett raised his pint. "To the Punic War. To new allies." Kirath added, "To those who have sacrificed and those who are coming." Derion raised his bottle. "To our Republics—may they withstand the corrupt." Ford lifted his glass. "Victory as one, not as people from other worlds, but as brothers-in-arms."

The group drank together, celebrating their bond and new comrades.

If you find any errors ( broken links, non-standard content, etc.. ), Please let us know < report chapter > so we can fix it as soon as possible.