"Mono/Dialogue"
'Inner thoughts'
Narration
[Message/communication apparatus]
Date: Winter 1919 New World Calendar or 646 AU.
Location: Southern Arganea, unmarked forest.
POV: Narrator
A dense forest stretched as far as one’s eyes could see, with rivers caressing into freezing nd and giving passage to stubborn animals or those who seek their luck and life through the winter. Whether through divine providence or the whims of fate, the dreaded weather paid little mind to the suffering it caused due to its earlier arrival.
Such as this one. A group of soldiers braving the snowy road through common highways that were once rich trade links between polities. As, the Kingdom of Acadion now rules the majority of the continent with a firm fist. Staggeringly bloodied and perhaps inefficient, but the long war had ended.
At the head of the columns rode a man in his resplendent but weathered and battered pte armor covered with thick yers of woolly cloak. Mounted atop a six-legged horse of splendid breed and build, there is the lord of this group ride. His body is not particurly tall, but his build is solid and stretches of scars could be seen peeking out of his frame. Hair mimicked a Lion’s mane and face bearing tales of arms which made the man look more akin to a grizzled beast. A metal light up in a soft hue of red glow through his scabbard, and old family heirloom that Gallenor will surely notice.
His men are noticeably more uniformed and standardized; reminiscent of what schors of Old Orneas shall assign as the Early Enlightenment Era, famous for its pike-and-shot tactic and knights with bck powder handguns. These hardy men minded not the coldness of winter battering their form. Plumed helmets, steel breastpte atop brigandine specifically made to stave off cold, pikes, and arquebus, and a hundred and sixty Cuirassiers holding onto the fnks. This contingent is his bannered men, no less than 12 banners are under his command.
The banner of his contingent are being constantly draped in snow courtesy of a changing time. His advisor ride to his side, expression light but manage to hold onto the grim echoes of war. He raised his hand in a salute and spoke.
“My Lord Gardam, the scouts had returned and reported the fjord had frozen over, it should be possible for us to pass.” The man called Gardam gives him a noncommittal grunt, his weariness against this dastardly weather diminishing.
“Thank you, Dazare. The sooner we leave this accursed nd the better. I can no longer stomach the idea of keeping an eye on those beasts.” His eyes look back past the ranks of soldiers moving in a column of three with the pikes in the middle. His scowl deepened with a gre to a realm beyond the mountain.
“Never had I felt so disgusted to share a root with them. They called themselves human, and yet they dared to lower themselves to cavort with those bipedal beasts. Have they no shame?” The man shook his head with ample disgust. He cannot for the life of him understand why they’re like that.
“Mayhap this early winter is a good tiding for us, an omen that this hardship is a blessing in disguise.” The advisor spoke as he lined up his horse parallel with his lord. Coincidentally, the lord does share his enthusiasm.
“Mayhap, I certainly cannot compin about the retreat order. His Imperial Majesty’s vision is one that we must strive to accomplish, and I for one rejoice on this.”
“And your stance regarding the bipedal beasts?”
“I have no issue if they learn their pce, and keep their blood to themselves… It worries me that fellow Children of Man are willing to commit something lower than an animal could ever hope to imitate.”
“I’m afraid that is an entrenched matter, like it or not… our roots had been intertwine with them.” Dazare’s brazen comment was met with a quiet gre, but not much else.
Gadram is not one to relish in mayhem like a few of his fellow countrymen, such savagery is unbecoming to his honor, senses regarding Children of Man’s tenet of propriety, and simple abject rejection upon conjoining ties with those closer to animals. Regardless, he is here because of Haumelchor the First’s vision of a new dawn, and he thoroughly despises his so-called countrymen.
Still, the thirst for many conquests had sated him for a lifetime. To be one of the finest commanders Helicar had to offer is something to be proud of. He has no qualm about other races' existence for it had been always such since time immemorial, of course, he is prudent enough to never spout an opinion of that fvor willy-nilly in public.
What he has qualms with is none other than the brazen brutality while touting on and on about chivalry or honor; sometimes both. He was repulsed at their interpretation of a tenet for chivalry, to make an example. They gleefully butcher their way onward without rest and even go so far as applying that inane rule for mere sadism. Haumelchor should have his reason, but there are times when Gadram is forced to stop and look closely.
“I loathe to admit it, but our people are worse than beasts due to deep-seated hatred… those demi-humans are a much better source of bor. Some can carry twice as much, some can see better, and some are such wonderful craftsmen that I see no reason to cleanse from the face of this world…
“Whether it be luck or misfortune, our names are now etched in history books and anecdotes. Wreathed in blood, toil, and sweat. A worthy combination of a saga to sing for centuries to come… Was not a matter you wish for me to elucidate upon, no?”
“I hope as well, but it would have been a true saga and epic if those dimwitted sword-swinging fools knew the word restraint. Halciadon can benefit from a mere look back, brief reconsideration, and lying to wait for a better opportunity. Even if we go on a complete campaign to uphold purity, we are still going to wrap up the muck and dirt that cling unto the bloodied river…”
“That might hold a grain of truth, but my lord… those lesser than you are desperate; foolishly desperate. His Imperial Majesty had given them clemency and a chance to right their many wrongdoings… he must have known such possibility.” Dazare alluded to a cssic example of getting rid of unwanted elements by promising great recompense at high risk, such as the promise of forgiveness after grave crime.
Appears this weather is the Emperor’s gamble.
“Not outside the realm of possibility. His Imperial Majesty moves with wisdom we lesser men can never hope to compare or cope with. To see his brilliance in unifying a continent is nothing sort of sublime.”
“True, no one had ever managed to come so close to uniting this vast continent in less than a decade.” Dazare takes out a metallic fsk and chants an incantation, his fsk glow and a joyful sip of warm drink is his. He offered Gardam a taste but the lord declined, he is not one for a merry day drinking but he allows his men leniency.
“Hah… His Imperial Majesty's vision stretched farther than we could ever hope to comprehend. I wonder if we will be recalled to this nd soon to reign in those bastards…” Yet something gnawed at him, and it wasn’t the Southern dregs who cannot be controlled and often can only be put down for their good.
His expression turn bitter when reminded of the fact. Republics… made up of illiterate peasants and quasi-nobles who knows no better. Gardam genuinely cannot comprehend why a horde of petty merchants and unremarkable commoners are being left such a huge responsibility. To give everyone a pce on the same degree as the erudite are madness beyond comprehension.
He groaned remembering the sheer squabbling and petty bickering he must go through in pcating his subordinates and wealthy leagues of trade. Adding commoners of many stripes into the equation is a surefire way to break any sembnce of order and bance. These commoners are willful but easily swayed, in the end nothing changes except for a noisier internal council.
That then reminds him about a particur bill raised in the Council of Lords. Spearheaded by Queen Ionie. She’s reviled as a Kinsying Witch, but her arguments were hard to dispel, even by the more extreme factions inside the council because avarice must be accompanied by arguments. A pair of mandatory requirements enforced by Emperor Haumelchor by the tip of his bde.
Speaking about the extremes, those same factions had refused his counsel to pull beyond the border. They balked at the idea of leaving the destroyed nd unsupervised, despite Gardam pointing out that there is truly nothing else to gain. He rather be mocked than letting his men wander and live off a hostile nd in winter.
Regarding Ionie, the problem was further exacerbated because both the Emperor and his Younger Brother showed much favor to her.
“Tell me, Dazare…”
“Yes, My Lord?”
“Pray to tell your thoughts upon our education reform. The Kinsying Witch had made quite the impassioned speech, I must admit, but was it necessary? We know how an excess of knowledge made ruling difficult… While I doubt that all of them are foolish, it doesn’t require intelligence to have wisdom… and wisdom often was sacrificed for bloated intelligence…” His eyes crane upward upon the gentle snow.
“Hmm… I do think that the core ideas are generous and hopeful. We stand much to gain from such an ideal utopia.” His advisor preamble while measuring his tone, brows furrowed and one of Dazare’s hands caressed the sword on his hip.
“However, knowledge must be carefully selected for the good of common or lesser minds. Even we standing above as their betters often grapple with horrifying revetion that must not escape notice.” He paused briefly. “Thoughts of differing morality can taint them, good and honest people but foolish and emotional folks.” Dazare sighed, weariness of war and longing for home was ever more made difficult to rejoice with when he recalls an arming rumor.
“Merchants from far west regaled of rebellions and misguided pining for freedom. Unjust and insipid wars fought by the short-sighted and foolish and for what? They throw comfort for ideas that rarely work… Hmph… dreamers… I pity them. Their sheer brazenness will cause their ancestors to frown in disgust and roll in their graves.”
“Aye… I cannot, however, for the life of me dismiss the boon of capable commoners who are no mere serfs. Administering this massive empire will require extensive manpower and a lengthy process. More shall rise to stand shoulder to shoulder with nobilities, but I fear the divide had already been initiated.”
“That is true. Illiteracy should be handled posthaste, but if we allow festering and contradictive voices to exist… we are doomed to anarchy. A state must have a strong guiding principle, or perhaps a code that will outst our dear Monarch; His Imperial Majesty.”
“Fix your phrasing in order but… hmm… Indeed… that is what His Imperial Majesty wishes to control and guide. Those wless Republics were but stepping stones to form compliance, to show them that there is safety in obedience and order.”
“Speaking about serfs… His Imperial Majesty had built a commoner’s university, was it?”
“Ah… yes. I doubt it will help much in the short term, but I can at least be assured our bureaucrat will be loyal to the Empire.” Gardam’s voice gained ample intangible notes of displeasure and disdain.
“Your point of view felt contradictive, my dear Earl.”
“Fret not old friend… now, let’s leave this horrible pce behind-” He raised his hand, and the column stopped their march. Pikes peeled to the sides while the cuirassiers moved up to protect their lord. The Arquebuses are of ambiguous use in this weather, but they still try to prepare their instrument of war.
“… You heard that?” Gardam softly uttered, his hand on his sword. The noise is faint, but it is there. A hint of insect buzzing or perhaps a tiny continuous screech that cuts through drizzles of snow.
“Noise… it’s unlike anything I had ever heard before.” The advisor cupped his ear, and the noise grew fainter the longer they waited. A part of him wondered if this all had been an eborate plot or just a phenomenon that could not be understood.
“Get the detection mage,” Gardam ordered the most sensible approach.
“At once, sire!” He touch the side of his head and chanted an aria, whisper of great power to manifest miracle on the world of living. His eyes soon turns purplish glow, with shining words of power beating upon the surface of his face.
[His Lordship requires your service, detection spell, and look for any suspicious or malignant wills.] A mental link that can be used to instantly transmit a message within a certain range. People like him are sought after, both for his expertise and counsel. No mage in Helicar wasn’t privy to schorly pursuit, thus allowing mages to be a fine addition to a Lord’s private inner circle.
Not long afterward a wizened old man whom naturally mastered the arcane arts of telepathy heed his words. The mage stands in the middle of the formation raised his staff before a rge circle of arcane expand gradually, a mix of bluish and white script rotates around him. The mage form is still, deep in concentration and soon Dezare earned his answer.
[There is nothing I can detect, Sir Dezare. Perhaps it was merely a passing bird.] Dazare wanted to scoff because what kind of bird came out in winter around Helicar? However, he has no time to investigate either.
[… I see, how long can you sustain it?]
[The current weather made it difficult to commune with the wind, but His Lordship’s steadfast servant is confident that it shall hold until we cross the border.] Dezare grunted a reply and dispelled the telepathic link.
“There’s nothing in our detection, your Lordship.”
“…Very well, let’s continue the march but stay vigint. Good knows what people with nothing left to lose shall do… no matter how moronic.”
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Rows upon rows of asymmetrical vegetation dotted the nd falling into a peaceful slumber or deathly cold. Snow and ice made their marks upon many creations of nature to linger and cim into its indifferent embrace. Amidst the softness afforded by a silent lethality hidden by the frozen temperature, figures cd in all white are seen ying still on the nd as if it’s their home ground.
These figures are none other than the recently active Private Military Contractor of E.I.R.I. Their practiced movements, sharp vigince, and controlled breathing reflected the minimum vapor of air they exhaled. Southern Icefield Exclusion Zone taught them how terrifying it was to make a pse in attention when winter was around them.
All manners of guns are pointed towards the tightly packed sardine of men and beasts of burdens less than 400 meters away. It will take only a single command to introduce the messy bleeding edge and rapturous but efficient industrial warfare grade of butchery.
One of them is using binocurs up front with a map in hand as he observed the vigint formation raptly. A Maximian rifle slung neatly behind his back and true to its reputation, it is not a piece of machinery to be hampered by a weather of this level. A small part of him admired their discipline and clear training; akin to historical painting coming to life. As, that’s all he has; inconsequential admiration, should he pull the trigger then this view will be another memory.
“Seems they’re buggering off after all…” He turns his binocurs upward to notice a tiny dot circling in the sky. It is a drone confiscated from a UFSNE intelligence cell to monitor the decade-long 20th Global War. While it is true that the retions between Regalian and UFSNE are cordial, it has been an open secret that UFSNE continued monitoring the war through their spy ring that came along with their military attaché.
Any other nation’s intelligence unit was the first to get eliminated the moment they posed a problem to Regalia. There a terrifying rumors of someone unseen who directs the war in the shadows. They were seemingly capable of keeping threats posed to the continent to be reliably countered should the situation call for it. Tales of strange armed fighters stalking the uglier side of the war had grown rampant, and for sure they were not Grasdivis’ nigh-mechanical brutality.
Just a scalpel.
The forward EIRI lead operative tapped into his headgear, keeping his tone level and quiet in case those potential OpFORs spot him and his team. He very much doubt those criminals can, else they will be pulling their triggers by now, but SOP and rigid training made every extra things as easy as breathing.
“That was reckless, not going to lie…”
[Drone’s feed is fine and well, testing enemy audio detection is… complete… checking… We got good data on their means of communication … but still thought… telepathy, was it? I hope those Helicarian and Arganeans aren’t feeding us faulty intel. Not that I refuse to believe it exists, but we rarely caught specimen capable of one…]
“If they did, we will bring down the hammer and they know it. Arganeans need us to give them a fighting chance that won’t blow up in their face.” He paused. “Should we let them through? I got a clear shot on their commander, and we are far enough to haul ass.”
[Negative, stay put. We are not ordered to wipe the ste clean, and administering a territory with such backward education will be an arduous loop if we proceed on scorched earth. Just keep your eyes on them, and only retaliate if the situation calls for it, or else Medusa will wreck you.]
“Affirm, continuing on tasking.” Cutting his communication link, he ordered his fellow to stay put on alert. They keep their camoufged rifles pointed towards the departing column.
It seems fate smiled upon Gadram upon that cold day…
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Many hovels and houses meant to stand its harshness y in ruin or ransacked beyond recognition. Its occupants are long gone or cimed and ensved by their new masters. Spoils of war filled the baggage trains of the victorious and glorious soldiers. These shivering men, women, and children are forced to huddle together in their shared captivity, those with inhuman features are made… patable to the eyes.
Of course, after toiling through the mud and blood, the spoils of war are theirs to cim. The battles for Southern Arganea have been a massive boon to their standing, coffers full, and glorious victory was sung over the nd in the south. There are many such roaming groups; splintering groups of a once unified army.
There’s often a misconception that the army always marches as one, but that’s only true when a pitched battle is expected. That pitched battle against desperate and poorly armed or trained force had culminated in the Empire’s decisive victory. After that, they march to the tune of their drum, especially when magical communication or telepathic users can converge on the army.
This form of warfare made them an eclectic mix of rge, fated, battle and small skirmishes and raids. Keeping the army less packed than usual also made scavenging and foraging that much easier. That means the damage of encroaching army will also be maximized to entice the defender to do something about it.
If they don’t get provoked, the onsught of refugees will destroy their credibility. Resources shall be strained, and the retionship between those who lost their homes and those forced to feed them shall slowly dip into distrust and hate. There’s a record of defenders refusing to march, but that’s often the very st resort. Home advantage is only true if you can use it well, and an angry popuce puts a damper on that.
Doesn’t help that everyone has their circumstances, and when given a chance, they will not hesitate to cut off others to save themselves and their family. It is not cruelty, it is pragmatism. One can truly afford to be civilized if they are fed, clothed, and sleep with a roof above their head. The abrupt thickening of snow signaled a change for the wise to retreat, to the dutiful to obey, and the opportunist to reassess their predicament.
Howling roars of winter are battering over an encampment. The encampment is protected by a double yer of wooden palisades with moats underneath each. Those who were out of luck stood by for guard duty. A gaggle of soldiers who could only curse quietly on their predicament and must be satisfied with snow covering their body with its frigid touch.
Braziers on the towers provide some measures of warm, and the thick clothing made the winter stay more bearable. Crackling of firepce intermingled with occasional ughter and cheers. Merrymaking as if they truly win a war, because they technically did won a war.
Amidst the revelry of the conqueror, a somber mood fell upon the gaudy tent in the middle. Many high-ranking nobles and officers shared expressions of many variations. Anger, impatience, bitterness, and such. The air is cloying and thick with smoldering emotion.
The tent was primarily divided into 3 factions, those under Earl Gadram Alvor who had left without looking back, those under the auspice of Earl Tenholt Sador, and stly those under Earl Ivalo Volro. Gadram had left with most of his more pragmatic men through different route.
He used to be the voice of reason, but the other two Earl had staunchly rejected his opinion to return. Sensing that he could not change a bunch of mules, he left. Without him, the camp is divided between Tenholt and Ivalo, although it needs to be made clear that a few opportunists do stay.
Tenholt is an old man with most of his hair gone to time, that being said his presence towered amongst those still in the table. He favored a halberd and his bulky body meant that he alone could operate hand cannon without flinching. Across himself would be Ivalo, dark-haired, lithe, and young on top of weaker-looking compared to Tenholt. Make no mistake, Ivalo is quite the formidable young man, his skill with the sword and arcane enhancement is second to none.
Such strained air couldn’t hold for long. It starts with a small ignition of irritation, uncertainties, and then… Then, it explodes.
“Curse it all! That slut of a witch had told lies as is her sinful nature of being a Kinsyer! She cajoled His Imperial Majesty that those Peasant Rabbles are nothing but pebbles on the road, and yet we are the ones taking the brunt of it! We were promised the richest and yet we cim meagre wealth at best!” One of Ivalo’s aides barked, his anger was met with a harsh gre.
“There’s little to gain and loot, I say we march north and make our cims clear. Let’s give that whore with a sullied crown to understand her transgression!” As if to worsen it, the man proposed an audacious proposal, and all hell broke loose.
“Are you insane, greenhorn!? Do you wish to incite His Imperial Majesty’s wrath upon us?!” Tenholt’s nephew does not take kindly on the implied weakness; for being perceived weak.
“You ride like a whore, you have no voice in this-”
“Watch yourself, boy! I very much loathe this predicament, but we cannot go against what was allotted to us. Thus we cannot return without fully enforcing order in the South! Or else-”
“Else what?! Our influence is worse than muck, and are you bling old coot? Look around you! We are gging because of the likes of you!”
“Exactly what order?! Others that had arrived early had stripped the nd clean! There’s nothing for us to gain! Now look where we are, forced to watch as winter passes in hostile territory! This is madness!”
“If you wish to call it madness, then run! Run like that Dog Gadram! I and my men shall continue spreading His Imperial Majesty’s divine will! If it comforts you then run home and suckle on your wife’s teats like the infant that you are!”
“What did you say!?” Before it could turn into an ugly slugging match, Tenholt pounded his fist on the table. The table quieted down, but none backed down from gring bloody murder. No wonder Gadram left, this is a barely functional council.
“I appreciate your enthusiasm, but remember your pce.” Ivalo’s aid scoffed before crossing his arms and gone silent. Tenholt turn his vision at Ivalo who is too busy cleaning his bde, his disdain seems to finally be noticed by the young man. He grinned; fearless and ferocious.
“Something the matter, Lord Earl?” His sneering voice made Tenholt’s retainers grit their teeth, but he motion them to be quiet. It is his venue to talk, some decorum must be maintained.
“Perhaps. I can’t help but wonder about your bsé approach to your men… Let me give you some advice as an elder, keep your leash in hand.” Ivalo smirked at his words and let his bde rest on the table.
“I thank you kindly, it must have been a novelty but I understand.” He gave a magnanimous head bow in his seat; as graceful as it is irritating. “If I can be bold, however, I find your entourage so… rigid… lifeless… regimented… hehe… are you Nobles, or meek peasants?”
“You cur!”
“Insolent bastard!”
“Silence!” Tenholt has no time for their cheap words, his gaze hardened on the young man. “I do say there’s merit in order, but do enlighten me.” Ivalo shrugs before replying.
“That’s the crux, I have a steady flow of input and ideas because I allow people to. This… tiresome decorum won’t give way to progress. If anything, I must be commended.” He smiles self-satisfactorily. “Challenge must be met, and order must enforced only after methods were exhausted.” He stands up and walks on his side of the table back and forth.
“It has been a proven concept, war is changing. Cavalry charges are losing their appeal, static warfare where we poke each other with pointy sticks slowly phased out, and the age of gunpowder is soon to come.” Ivalo’s smirk grew seeing Tenholt’s retinue losing patience. Exemplified by one of them raising his voice.
“People like you who have no regard for culture, chivalry, honor, and glory can speak of such method willy-nilly. Have you no shame to go against your words?” The young nobleman scoffed at the accusation but kept his enigmatic smile pstered on his face.
“Your encouragement to use cowardly means shall exacerbate the tightening of resistance. Those rabbles must be ruled with fear, not given quarter. They’re a malleable and repugnant group of maggots!” A few cheered the nobleman’s stance, but his speaking opponent wasn’t impressed.
“Culture? Our culture is to dominate, not fight like a bunch of perverted fools. Chivalry? Ah yes indeed, one of the knightly virtues imparted by God’s Monarchs and then bastardized when loins of ours took precedence. Honor? What honor? We butcher our way through, there is no need for a thin veneer of sophistry. Glory? Sure, sure, sure… how many men did you lose?”
His words made the Nobleman red with rage, and it seems that this fruitless tongue shing will continue… none of them realize the real danger lurking in the dark.
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A speck in the sky had been circling the camp for the st few hours. This would be EIRI’s primary method of keeping a tight grip on their operation. The sudden disappearance of UFSNE’s Special Intelligence Agency meant that a few bountiful boons were left behind. These boons shall serve Regalian’s interest to its utmost.
The drone’s camera peered onto the nd below, a hexagonal fortress made of wood and stone. There are three yers of walls which only get higher when one enters deeper into the heart of this parasitic community. Knights, men-at-arms, pikemen, and crossbowmen or arquebus-armed soldiers unlucky enough to perform guard duty amidst winter wind are scattered all over.
[Visigoth One-One to Medusa, we are two hundred meters northwest of the target, how copy? Over.] An EIRI Operator spoke softly into his headgear, beside him were at least a dozen white uniformed PMCs creeping closer to the encampment. Their equipment is more sophisticated, such as the vaunted subsonic rifle and newly enhanced explosives learned from understanding the phenomenon of this world.
“Medusa copy, proceed as we had pnned, and make sure to keep a tight RoE.” The one called Medusa will be none other than Olga Caligo, with her many nicknames better left unmentioned. She observed the Drone’s camera feed of the infiltration unit with unblinking eyes and lips pursed tight. Around her would be the many sophisticated equipment meant for intelligence including the newest thermal camera confiscated from UFSNE and URoV’s intelligence cell.
[Visigoth One-One copy.] She watches as her men use the dense foliage and dark of the night to mask their movement. This is a trial to understand what is to come, as well as testing weapons. This is a very risky gamble, but they have backup pns if things go awry.
The team began making their entry by timing their shots, the battering of snow and subsonic nature of their weaponry allow them an easy and plentiful opportunity. One shot, and a sentry above a watch tower was silenced on his seat. Second soft pop followed by the third and 2 men patrol were sent into blissful sleep.
“Visigoth Two-One, status report.” Medusa contacted the auxiliary units’ team lead who shall provide extra firepower and support. The camera feed moved to the east side where blinking strobes can be seen through the dense foliage of nature. Armed with a more varied selection of weapons, to provide an increase in firepower when things went south.
[Visigoth Two-One here, and we are moving on schedule. Outying patrols on the east had been eliminated and we found no sign of telepath. Break, we have cleaned the bodies as per instruction and we shall soon be on stand-by for the second phase. Over.]
“Any sign of rudimentary communication method you managed to salvage?”
[That’s a negative, Medusa. We triple-checked the bodies and found nothing of the sort, nor anything resembling what our colborators had shared.]
“Affirmative…” She keeps going through each team with different task to cage the encampment. A kind of unseen siege is underway, with manpower less than a ptoon worth of soldiers. There are many uncertainties when metaphysical phenomenon are concerned, thus it is worth noting that each tendrils differentiated from roots shall be a massive boon for the upcoming spring.
This forceful method is a mind-boggling and daring choice, it is more logical to infiltrate without firing a shot, but there’s other aim. EIRI is gauging for OpFor’s combat potential and capability. It will give them an edge when range is not in their favor, such as when urban combat is concerned. Regardless, the mayhem that will smash Helicar had only just begun…
[END OF CHAPTER]
Author’s Note:
Yo there, this is me, myself, and I, the author whom started getting busy irl.
Sorry for the ter-than-usual update, but it is what it is.
The weapons used by EIRI PMCs are AK-74M, SVD, VSS Vintorez, RPK, AS Val, and etcetera.
The buildup is set and I’m adding or discarding ideas on how magic shall work in this world.
That’s all from me.
Ciao.
