"To Major General Harrias, Space Command, I am pleased to report that the operational capacity of the outpost under Mount Olympus, Mars - Olympus Base - has been completed.

  The primary modules are online, allowing the Marines to begin probing the facility once again. However, the secondary construction has been delayed, as CCP Moaists and Zhongguo Facists have raided or harassed the other Great Powers on the Martian surface, raiding or harassing many of our supplies from Alpha Base. Some of my Marines also noted they believe French and Indian forces are spying on our forces. To my surprise, the IRA and Turkish forces have remained silent of our presence, especially after what happened with the IRA pirate raid on our space lanes. I do request additional Marines to provide escort.

  Regarding the alien facility, Outpost Olympus has successfully attached itself to the facility, being called Ashurbanipal Research Based. The name comes from one of the oldest libraries in history, dating back to the Assyrian Empire. It is apparent that this facility is older than any known civilization in Human history; the knowledge locked away here could revolutionize the Human race forever. For this reason, the people believed the name was appropriate.

  We have secured the first level. To our surprise, the Akuma's that are defending the alien facility have not made a move to the upper levels. This has allowed us to establish operations within the facility, providing life support and other essential needs. We will begin our raids within Ashurbanipal soon." - Colonel Gallivan, Olympus Base

  April 10th, 2068 (military calendar)

  Vagahm, the former Confederacy of Daru'uie

  Nevali Region, Aldrida, Alagore

  *****

  Assiaya felt her body tremble slightly from seeing the scorched ground and destroyed equipment of the former checkpoint. She turned toward the Minutemen soldier in the passenger seat, Captain Isacc Murphy of Viking. Unlike many of his team, he was a dark-skinned man, like Rommel King, which surprised her. She hadn’t expected such diversity among the Altaerrie, even though they were all Sapiens, the same subtype of humans as her.

  “Draconis oppugnation?” Assiaya asked.

  “Speak English!” the voice in her head snapped. “We must learn to understand Father.”

  Knowing the voice was right, Assiaya tried again. “Draagooon attack?”

  The captain turned and spoke into his phone. The translation app responded with Draco, meaning Dragon. She nodded to confirm, and the app spoke again, explaining that they’d launched a UAV for early warning, so there was no cause for concern.

  She acknowledged this with a small nod and peered out the window. The AMTV’s shaking subsided as the convoy rolled onto a paved stretch of highway. Old buildings dotted the landscape, but what surprised her more were the steel lines embedded in the ground—train tracks. The Princess had seen them before in the Verliance Aristocracy. The Vampire nation had built an intricate rail network, connecting most of its cities, a feat her former master had boasted about with pride.

  Before this journey to Vagahm, she’d learned that an old line between Salva and Vagahm had once thrived during better days. Now abandoned due to disputes, it mirrored everything else she’d observed in this region: slow decay. She pushed that thought away. From watching Kallem Verliance, she’d learned a leader must always take pride in their people.

  Until recently, Salva’s residents had seemed resigned to merely get by, letting the ashes of time bury them. Was it because this was an Elven town, or because the wider world had forgotten it? Assiaya wasn’t sure. But in her years as a slave, she’d never seen her former master tolerate such decline.

  The convoy halted abruptly at the border checkpoint. Vagahm guards in silver-and-black armor swarmed the area—some inside buildings, others manning an accelerator ballista. To Assiaya’s surprise, none seemed poised for combat; they carried themselves with casual ease.

  Captain Isacc Murphy of Viking stepped out of the vehicle alongside Varitan Yeldan. The pair approached the Vagahm commander and handed over the diplomatic message. The Princess’s motuia advisor translated for the Viking leader, facilitating a brief exchange among the three.

  Moments later, the Dwarf commander approved their entry, handing over a packet of documents in return.

  When her advisor returned to the AMTV, Assiaya asked, “What is that?”

  Yeldan skimmed the contents—some fliers, a trading map, and two outdated news bulletins. “It is nothing important,” he replied.

  “I see,” Assiaya said, her voice tinged with nerves. She took a deep breath and sank back into her seat as the vehicle lurched forward.

  “What was on your mind?”

  “I was wondering,” Assiaya began, “why is the Vagahm Lord requesting my presence?”

  “It is not wise to stress the mind over Dwarf logic,” Yeldan said. “They are a blunt race. You will find out what they desire.”

  The Princess turned toward her advisor. “Then why was I needed to free our people?”

  “Point taken,” Yeldan conceded.

  The dual-eyed girl smiled and glanced out the window again. She spotted one of the light IGV tanks escorting them—a Buffalo, she thought, recalling its tracks alongside wheels. Next to it, a Vagahm soldier rode a Giquus, a four-legged, equine-like creature with vibrant colors cascading from its head peak down to its mid-belly.

  “I guess,” Assiaya said, “they got what they wanted. After showing kindness, I hoped they’d want to be friends, but they’ve stayed silent.”

  “That was part of the treaty,” Yeldan reminded her.

  Assiaya turned to him again. “Was that a mistake? Maybe if I’d been more forceful, they’d side with us.”

  “Or they’d have sided with our enemies,” Yeldan countered. “Here’s some advice: don’t dwell on what could have been. You found a solution; accept it and move on.”

  “I understand,” Assiaya said. “I just wonder why they suddenly want to talk to me.”

  After some time, Viking and the diplomatic team reached Vagahm. The three AMTVs and Deuce UGV lined up facing the towering city mound, their heavy armor and weapons trained on the City-State. The Minutemen dismounted and secured the perimeter.

  Captain Murphy confirmed the area was safe before opening Assiaya’s door and offering his hand. She took it, stepping out. Her boots sank into the mud, coating the thick soles.

  “I see why soldiers wear boots,” the voice remarked.

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  The Princess of Salva noticed the Ambassador, Susian West, exiting one of the rear vehicles with the same annoyed expression—displeased that her shoes met the mud too.

  “Gratias tibi ago,” Assiaya said, thanking the captain.

  “Sublimitas,” Murphy replied in Latin, thanking her in turn.

  Assiaya stepped forward, gazing at the city mound. The hill loomed large, its exterior lined with battlements guarding the defenders and their weapons. Glowing lights pulsed from defensive crystals and Dwarven carvings—possibly concealed weapon ports. Smokestacks rose from the city workshops, and dozens of guards patrolled outside.

  “Faciamus,” Murphy said.

  The captain and two Vikings, acting as security, escorted the Princess, her advisor, and the Ambassador toward the Dwarf entrance.

  As they approached, the city guards grew more alert. Five stepped forward, signaling them to stop. Unlike the border guards, these seemed more relaxed.

  Varitan Yeldan presented the diplomatic message to the commander, who reacted with shock, then confusion.

  “He is faking it,” the voice said.

  “What do you mean?” Assiaya thought.

  “His reactions aren’t genuine,” the voice replied. “I sense something’s off—like he was prepared.”

  The Princess watched as the two debated the royal seal on the invitation. She couldn’t tell if the voice’s opinion was correct.

  “This is a fake,” the commander declared.

  “A fake?” Yeldan retorted. “How dare you dishonor a Princess—one who’s been kind to your people. She wouldn’t forge a message to come here, nor resort to such measures.”

  “I wasn’t informed of any meeting,” the commander insisted.

  Assiaya felt baffled, her faith in the voice wavering. Glancing at Susian West, she saw the Ambassador’s frustration boiling over. Though faint, she caught West muttering about hating to deal with a child.

  “I really hate that woman,” the voice grumbled.

  Assiaya wove through the Vikings to stand beside her advisor, feeling her credibility challenged, drawing the commander’s attention. “Excuse me. I respect Lord Girnick Elkkur and would never dishonor him with a lie. The seal is real.”

  A sudden horn blared from one of the borrian keeps. Assiaya turned toward the city gate. Glowing lines traced through the rock, forming a door. They flared brighter, dust shaking off as the walls parted.

  Assiaya noticed Viking and the Ambassador marveling at the magical door, caught off guard as if they hadn’t sensed the raw mana from the enchantments. She stared as it opened fully.

  Four more soldiers emerged from the borrian and joined their comrades. Behind them stood a familiar Dwarf: City Keeper Tharnot.

  “Tharnot!” Assiaya exclaimed. “Can you please explain to the guard I was requested by Lord Elkkur?”

  “Princess Assiaya,” Tharnot said, “there was no such request. Your treaty stated you’d remain on your side of the border.”

  “Is this man crazy?” the voice muttered.

  Assiaya stared at the City Keeper, bewildered. She took the diplomatic message from her advisor and showed it to him. “I have this.”

  Tharnot glanced at it briefly before meeting her eyes. “We will honor the treaty and remain neutral.”

  “But…” Assiaya faltered.

  The City Keeper turned to leave but paused. “If you wish to stay current on Vagahm’s affairs, check the news bulletins before sparking a border crisis next time.”

  He reentered the borrian, and the door sealed shut. Assiaya stood there, standing completely confused.

  She studied the message, wondering if the Vagahm representative was lying. Panic crept in. Was this an Aristocracy trap?

  “What’s wrong with the little brat?” West sneered.

  “Your Highness?” Yeldan asked.

  “If the Dwarves didn’t send this,” Assiaya said, “it has to be a trap!”

  Varitan Yeldan took a deep breath, then relayed orders to the Viking Captain. The Minutemen fanned out, bracing for an ambush. The Ambassador began arguing that entrusting diplomacy to a girl was a mistake, vowing to note this failure in her report.

  But Yeldan knelt before his Princess. “I’m certain Viking will protect you. Otherwise, your Father wouldn’t have entrusted them with your safety.”

  “But…” Assiaya stammered, panic rising. “If they…”

  “Calm down,” Yeldan said. “Present yourself.”

  “But…”

  He raised a hand to silence her, then showed the motuia binding mark on his palm, capturing her focus. “I’m your political advisor. I serve you and your Father’s House.”

  Assiaya stared at the wood elf, unsure where he was leading.

  “As your advisor,” Yeldan continued, “let me offer guidance. But you must stay calm, or I can’t do my duty.”

  “Whatever you’re saying,” West interjected, glaring at the Princess of Salva, “translate this: this was an abject failure and a waste of time. The Army should be ashamed for trusting a child.”

  Yeldan rose and met the Ambassador’s gaze with an emotionless stare, unsettling her. She stepped back, complaining and demanding the Viking Captain take her back.

  “Alright, Viking,” Murphy ordered. “We’re heading back to Salva.”

  “Not yet,” Yeldan said.

  “I’m sorry, Princess,” Murphy replied. “I have my orders. We’ve got to go.”

  “If I recall,” Yeldan countered, “Colonel Hackett’s orders are for you to serve and protect the Princess of Salva, not the Ambassador’s whims. We leave when the Princess is ready.”

  The dual-eyed Princess raised her hand to say she was ready to go, but Yeldan, anticipating this, silenced her with a raised finger without looking.

  West stormed forward, eyes blazing. “This stunt is over. We’re wasting time. We’re leaving.”

  Varitan Yeldan faced her, deactivating his translation amulet. In rough but clear English, he said, “You’re welcome to leave as you wish. Do not insult the House of Ryder. You’re a guest here for cooperation.”

  The Captain shrugged and stepped back, letting the motuia advisor proceed. West, stunned by a native’s fluent defiance, faltered.

  With the situation steady, Yeldan knelt again and reactivated his amulet. He studied the Vagahm message. “This could be a plot to capture you, but I doubt it. They’d have lured us inside to trap us, not left us out in the rain.”

  “He’s correct,” the voice agreed. “If Lord Elkkur worked for Kallem, they’d have acted differently.”

  “Then what do you think is happening?” Assiaya asked.

  “This is what bothers me,” Yeldan said. “This bears Vagahm’s official seal—I’ve seen it more times than all your human years combined. The City Keeper emphasized the treaty, but more crucially, he pointed us to the documents from the border guards.”

  It took a moment for Assiaya to grasp his meaning, but she realized Varitan Yeldan suspected an intriguing scheme. Lacking knowledge of the seal’s authenticity, she trusted her motuia.

  “Captain Murphy,” Assiaya said, “can we please see those documents the guards gave us?”

  “I think I see where this is going,” Murphy replied. He ordered a teammate to retrieve them.

  “In the meantime, Captain,” Yeldan added, “have your team prepare to leave. Also, the Ambassador’s complaints will reinforce her portrayal.”

  “Maintain my complaining?” West snapped, offended.

  “Exactly like that,” Yeldan said, turning to the Princess. “Remember what I said when we first came here: Dwarves are stubborn but unpredictable.”

  “So you think this is a trick?” Assiaya asked. “By them?”

  “Correct.”

  Yeldan skimmed the bulletins and handed one to the Princess. She took it eagerly.

  Assiaya relished her motuia advisor’s subtle jab at the Ambassador. She knew of the pact between the elf and her Father—his pledge to serve and protect her House with honor. She’d never doubted him, but his willingness to defy an Altaerrie stateswoman for her was striking.

  She scanned the bulletin—a Think Rectangle document. It detailed a Vagahm trawler shipwrecked on Great Kasin Beach’s northern coast, near the Nagal village, as of today. Below, it noted a rescue arriving tomorrow. She skimmed further, spotting something about slime pie, but her inner voice interrupted.

  “Wait,” the voice said. “Check both dates.”

  Puzzled, Assiaya examined them. The bulletin’s header was dated two weeks ago, yet it referenced today.

  “Wait,” Assiaya said aloud. “The dates don’t make sense. How could they know about the shipwreck when this was made?”

  “Exactly,” Yeldan replied, showing her the map. “At first glance, it’s a simple trading map of local villages. But the Nagal fishing village is highlighted in the north. I believe they want us to go there.”

  “I don’t understand,” Assiaya said.

  “As I said,” Yeldan explained, “Tharnot stressed honoring the treaty—they can’t openly speak with us.”

  “Or risk Aristocracy intervention,” Murphy added. “In the military, you use code when the enemy might be listening—which they would be.”

  “I believe the Captain’s right,” Yeldan said. “The bulletin says the rescue arrives tomorrow morning. We have little time. We must head to this village with haste.”

  “No,” West declared. “Enough games. We’re returning to Salva. Captain, we’re leaving. Arrest these two if you must—I’m ordering you.”

  Yeldan stood, his dagger-sharp gaze locking onto the Ambassador. Ignoring her, he faced Isacc Murphy.

  “Captain, I understand your duty, but we can’t return to Salva. If we do, we’ll miss our window and never uncover Vagahm’s message.”

  “Sorry, man,” Murphy said. “I can’t disobey an ambassador. I’m just a captain.”

  “You’re a Minuteman Captain,” Yeldan pressed. “Your leader, Colonel Hackett, backs the Princess of Salva. Beyond politics, your duty is to serve your leaders’ best interests, and right now, that’s aiding Assiaya Ryder.”

  Assiaya stepped forward, feeling the tension thicken. “I know Varitan is being hard. Can you please help me? Lord Elkkur requested me because he wanted to tell me something. If Varitan’s right—if they’re signaling us—I need your help. If you take me back to Salva, I won’t resist, but please, help me.”

  Murphy closed his eyes and sighed deeply. “You owe me a drink, Matt. Alright, we came this far—let’s finish the job. But this better be real.”

  Assiaya clapped her hands but caught herself. She folded them and bowed, offering a proper thank-you to Viking for their respect.