0700 HOURS.

  SATURDAY, 20 AUTUMNSUS 1441.

  GLACIES, YONDEL.

  LECCA STIRRED TO THE LIGHT. The vanilla curtains over the windows and balcony exit had shifted during the night. She awoke to the golden morning sun, and after moment of confusion, she had shaken her head a few times to gather her senses. Lowering her head back onto the pillows that occupied her bed she stared at the orange glow behind the curtains; she was never to see the denizens that made up the capital and the kingdom. The horizon attempted to break free, and sharing a glance to the old grandfather clock in the corner of her room, she saw the time had landed squarely on 7 in the morning. Her body felt stiff—and soon enough she would have to get up as delaying the day would provide complications for everyone in the castle.

  Eventually finding the strength to start the morning—she had finally stepped out of her bed—only to end up at the water basin in the bathroom adjacent to her room. Her gleaming brown eyes shared the reflection of her silver hair falling over her face and shoulders. They no longer were the gentle brown strands that she was born with, and the silver shimmer in the light complimented the white night gown she wore; with her pale skin she embodied that of a dying body, a ghost.

  The previous night she had spoken to Holy Knight Mike Randall—Sergeant Mike Randall—of this now infamous group of Rangers that had been brought to this world of Fantasia. She came to understand Mike and his fellow warriors better, if only slightly. These men were used to war. One that never ended. There was no notion of true peace from their home world. Just times of silence.

  A single knock from her bedroom entrance stirred her mind.

  “Enter,” she ordered to the wooden door. It took a second for the person on the other side to react as the door seemingly hesitated to shift under the weight of the person’s push.

  “Princess Arish, good morning,” There was a very old and earnest-looking butler that had shadowed her movements throughout the castle. Harold Aramid was his name, and his family had been serving the throne throughout the ages. Harold had helped the princess to the adjacent bathing room and within seconds, thanks to a magic conduit attached to the pool in the center, the room quickly was enveloped by steam.

  “What is the status of town?” Lecca began to disrobe as she silently slipped her nightgown off letting it fall onto the marble floor. Gently lifting her bare leg, she sunk it into the scalding water without hesitation distorting the image of her reflection on the surface. For just a moment she sunk herself beneath the water letting her silver hair to the surface. After three minutes submerged, she felt her lungs screaming for air as she let her body break the tension of the surface exposing her to the warm air above.

  “Your suspicions have borne fruit,” Harold said gently as he prepared a soft white towel, “There are whispers of a new movement within the Royal Court that has taken interest in military affairs.”

  “Thank you, Harold,” The butler simple nodded silently, “Do we know what they want?”

  “Nothing more than interest within R&D. They are tapping into the magical research division within the Naval and Military Academy.”

  “Who is?”

  “Evidence suggests Vice-Count Morrocos, however we all know his feelings on expenditures.” Harold stated calmly.

  Pressing her hands into the hot water, Lecca slowly raised from the sauna as her silver hair drooped over her shoulders. She gently wiped away the droplets of water on her eyes as the wooden door to the room opened and her butler walked in with a towel in his arms. Harold waited for her to collect her mind. “A cup of tea and a collection of pastries were delivered by Chef Downs.” He announced as the princess walked out of the pool. He extended his arms and gently handed the towel to the silver-haired maiden as she wrapped the cloth around her body and strode into her room.

  “You look dashing, dear princess, it seems a good night’s rest has done you excellent.” Harold stated as he opened the bathroom door allowing Lecca to exit. “The king has read your message and is calling for your presence alongside the “Rangers”. Harold said as he moved to the large wooden cabinet at the corner of the room. Opening the doors, several white, red, and blue cloths shimmered in the few rays of sunlight that reached where he stood.

  “What is today’s choice?” The princess cutely inquired garnering a small chuckled from the old man who searched through the assortment of clothes.

  “Though the king had requested your audience, it is imperative that you are in a position to run and fight,” Harold explained as he took out a dark leather corset and an accompanying long white skirt and tan blouse. “I’ve been inspired by how the Holy Knights’ attire looks, so I made a few adjustments for today’s wardrobe to include natural colors.”

  Lecca said nothing as she held her arms above her head. It seemed that the old man had been charmed by the Ranger’s looks, though she herself couldn’t blame him. She was just as curious about the gear and armor they wore. It was unlike any she had seen before, and other than some comparison to items that existed within Yondel’s armory, she could just make speculation rather than anything solid. The process was relatively smooth. Only when did the two reach the corset did Harold call in support of three maids that had just happened to be wandering nearby. He needed someone with a keen eye and a delicate touch to help Lecca into the corset as the last time he tried the myth of the screaming witch spread throughout the castle like a wildfire.

  Soon after she was fully dressed, Lecca took her time eating the pastries she was brought much to the protests of the guards that had arrived to escort her to the throne room. Even with her standfast attitude she was eventually force out of her room once she had caught word that the Holy Knights were on the move. Harold let out a quiet sigh as he shadowed her quick pace. The guard behind had trouble keeping up as Lecca sped down the hallways passing several paintings that held the faces of the founders of the kingdom and her older relatives. As she turned the corner near the throne room her eyes drifted to a singular, isolated painting. It displayed what looked to be a kind man, one with a wrinkled face, brown hair, and gently brown eyes. Before she found the urge to spare any time for the painting she continued, leaving behind the guards that had slowed. The words she wanted to shed were simply lost in silence.

  Her mind drifted to the proposition that she had given the king the night before. What she was asking was something, an idea, a piece of inspiration she had gained from Sergeant Randall, from his story. It was a risky proposition, forcing the Holy Knights into an unfamiliar group, let alone a part of the armed forces was something that could severely backfire on her and her kingdom, but it was necessary risk to prepare for the enemy that only the king could foretell. She stood before the large wooden doors. Upon recognizing her, the two guards at the door grasped the handled and pulled open the doors sending out a chorus of groans and sharp noises. Within the time of a single step the princess set her eyes upon the Holy Knights gathered around a table at the middle of the room. There at the head, was the king and his council. Everyone turned to her sudden arrival, but now it seemed that everyone was calm. The time between the sudden arrival of the unknown soldiers at now was more than enough for everyone to accept the reality they were in and collect their thoughts.

  Whatever conversation they were holding prior to her arrival ended as Lecca approached the end of the table with a calculating gaze. She looked at the scattered maps on the wooden table and she only was drawn out of her inspection as the king called out to her in a commanding voice.

  “Princess, it is great of you to join us.”

  Looking out of the corner of her eye, she spotted Mike who provided at nod as a greeting.

  “Your majesty.” She said while giving a small curtsy.

  “I’ve been acquainting these fine soldiers with our world. Nations, cultures, enemies. I might say they can listen very well.” King Aldrich complimented the men as he motioned the princess towards a magical circle, not that different looking from the one used to summon the Rangers, but there were some notable differences—that being the change to the characters being made—it was one for an appraisal, one for magic.

  “I hope that they are able to understand your endless ramblings,” Lecca chided.

  Ignoring the princess’s insult, Aldrich turned back to the obviously amused soldiers who watched him collect his thoughts for the next topic of conversation. “I have summoned you all here for a reason that involves the security of this kingdom,” The king began ditching his smile as he drew the attention of everyone present to one of the maps that displayed the kingdom’s borders. “Last night the princess spoke with Holy Knight Randall about forming a group that will be a part of the spearhead to the northern border, where the Frontier lays. She believes that such a group will be able to reclaim the disputed lands.”

  Mike raised an eyebrow; she did not mention this last night. It was all small talk. Shifting uncomfortable, Oliver stepped forward. The captain was not willing to send his men into a potential border dispute, let alone be placed into a group that would have full control over him and the other Rangers. And from Mike’s reaction—being filled with surprise—it was clear that no one knew what was happening besides the king and the princess.

  “Sir, are you placing us in some sort of taskforce to deal with politics up north?” He asked making the king’s eyes widened. “We’re here to help, but I’m not going to play dice with other nations. We simply don’t know enough to even be interacting with the local population of your kingdom, let alone possibly take on some other group of magical soldiers.”

  “You are mistaken.” The king said, “This nation is under threat by a great foe that has proclaimed and sighted to resurge once more. Teufel. The Demon Lord. I believe I spoke of this the first time we met.”

  “This nation is under threat by a great foe that has proclaimed and sighted to resurge once more. Teufel. The Demon Lord. I believe I spoke of this the first time we met.”

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  All the other-worldly soldiers froze. They had just been reminded once more that this world was unlike their own. Even if they haven’t set foot outside of the walls of the castle, it was beyond clear that their lives would be put up to the test against a foe that they had never even thought of considering. Aldrich had long wondered what enemies the soldiers before him fought in their home worlds, but the bewilderment shown made it clear that they faced no such threat that rivaled the Demon Lord.

  Oliver’s face morphed into a puzzled expression as the king stood up straight looking him dead in the eyes. Did you? Oliver racked his brain trying to remember. They had all been relatively awake for 3 days straight. His men pulled shifts to ensure no one would kill them while they got a meager amount of sleep. “Say again, sir?”

  “You are not aware of the threat that the Demon Lord poses,” Aldrich spoke heavily, his eyes drifted to Senator Orpheus at the back of the room. “The men I am gathering to form this group are those that have not only sworn their oath to this kingdom but also sworn their hearts to humanity. This will become an independent organization, long far from the control of any king, and will focus on humanity’s survival in these trying times.”

  “Sounds noble,” Anthony sarcastically said tracing his hand over his grenade launcher.

  Behind the large group gathered at the center of the room, Princess Lecca reached out both of her hands and small white particles began to fall from her pale skin onto the gentle-blue powder scattered on the floor. The light put the Rangers on alert, but none moved as the king drew their attention away from the princess who was focusing on the spell, she had turned to observing.

  “You’re putting a lot of faith that we won’t simply disagree and up and desert,” Oliver challenged. “I really doubt that you would expect just us alone, and perhaps one-hundred other soldiers to handle such a grave threat as you describe. You do realize that we can’t do anything more than the regular man, in fact probably less; no magic, no understanding of our enemies, not enough guns.”

  The king was growing frustrated. “This unit will be formed no matter if you choose to assist us or not. If you do decide to leave, I will not stop you, yet you will also not be prepared for the world outside the walls. It is by a simple miracle that we are communicating in the same language. We summon Holy Knights not on that they can indeed save a world, but for the fact that they have helped us survive through the impossible. Time and time again previous monarchs showed that not even the heroes of old could make this society flourish. They never could.”

  “So, you need someone who can at least divert attention: a reaction force that can respond to incidents involving this man,” Oliver snickered as he tried not to laugh at the idea. If they were going to be glorified first responders that would limit damage to the kingdom and eliminate invading forces, he would at least pitch the idea to perform sabotage to any elements that wanted to harm the people of this nation. If not, he would rather get into arms dealing and form his own militia. “We’ll cooperate on our terms. I already assume that plans are in place for this?”

  The king smiled as he extended his hands, “Naturally! Holy Knights have never been known to fight alone. You will cooperate with forces all throughout Yondel and in return they will support your mission. To maintain command and control with communication, a liaison will be present, Chieftain Lecca-Maradel Emma Arish.”

  Oliver’s eyes widened.

  “Your new commanding officer.” The king showed his pristine white teeth.

  Clamping her hands shut Lecca shattered the casting circle letting the sound of glass exploding fill the space. A pained groan escaped her lips as blood slowly dripped from a wound on her hand. Purple shards extended from the blood that contacted the remnants of the casting circle, creating a flash of light. The heat that emanated from the combustion burnt away her wound sealing it and leaving her skin untouched as if nothing had happened.

  As the shards of purple slowly enveloped the area around the princess and the Rangers, Andrew and Sergeant Malkovich were quick on their feet to grab the princess by her arms and pull her away from the casting circle. The other Rangers formed a defensive shield around the silver-haired Chieftain. At the max expansion point the shards forming a large dome shattered letting a burst of energy encircle and consume all those within the dome.

  “What the fuck!” Anthony cried as he slapped the bolt release on his rifle, “Someone tell me what the fuck just happened!”

  “Say in formation! We got guards on the other side—”

  Oliver’s orders were cut short as the grenadier turned around staring at the princess with shallow eyes. “What the fuck did you do? What is going on, what the fuck is going on!?” His voice was breaking as he closed the distance between himself and the princess. He was held back by Mike and Jacob before he could do something he would regret. “Fucking mages! Why the hell are we stuck in this fantasy shit spouting nonsense about a Demond Lord!”

  “Corporal!” Oliver barked grabbing him by the collar, “Stand down, now!”

  Shoot a glare at the captain, Anthony reluctantly bit his tongue as he rejoined the formation facing away from the princess. Lecca felt her heart attempting to break out of her chest as she stared past the Rangers. She was like a deer caught in headlights; completely frozen from shock, and her face was unmoving as Mike slowly stepped into her vision making the far-off shadows slowly become blurry as she focused on the American in front of her.

  “Lecca, are you still with us?” He asked, keeping a respectful distance from her.

  Mike had dawned his helmet in the short time that the casting circle had corrupted. She stared through the darkened visor and past the strange lights above his focused eyes. Within three seconds as the opposite side of the dome grew darker, his visor flashed red displaying error messages that was not of the same language she knew. Mike himself turned back to his fellow Rangers, all of their conditions remained green until they each activated the manual override to a flashing red—in doctrine it meant they had unknown or hostile contacts—and now it was being used for the first time in this kingdom.

  “I don’t like this,” PFC Simon whispered as he flicked the fire selector on his carbine.

  “We can also say that about Pakistan,” Jacob patted Simon with his left hand. Being the first to stare directly into the growing darkness Jacob looked over the group leaning to the side to gain leverage. In the distance the growing bubble had ceased its growth and three appendages the size of a Sanyo TV box casted three shadows just in front of the barrier. From the cloud of shadows three figures emerged, a bear with a single horn on its head, a Samurai looking swordsman, and a wolf. None of the figures had eyes and they floated as if they were nothing more than ghastly silhouettes within the confines of this tomb.

  “Priority is the princess, Malkovich, figure out a way to breach out of this dome!” Oliver shouted as he waved a flat hand towards the side on their left where the two guardsmen were. Raising their rifles the Rangers steadily moved along the perimeter of the dome with Andrew leading the formation as the guardsmen remained in place, petrified by whatever they were looking at.

  “Contact thirty feet, protect the VIPs!” Andrew ordered as they absorbed the guardsmen into the formation with ease.

  “W-What is this!?” the shortest guardsman yelled as he tightly clutched his sword as it swayed side to side.

  “Ease up! We’re here!” Anthony snarled as he unlocked his grenade launcher shoving a 40mm smoke projectile inside.

  “Reavers!” Lecca clenched her hands, her eyes drifted to the rifles that each of the Rangers held. She needn’t understand how the mechanical insides of the weapons worked, but the concept was something she was going to twist into a weapon of her own. The lieutenant watched as white particles detached from Lecca’s hands, and as they grew close to each other they snapped causing a gentle gold glow before the weapon she was materializing appeared. Within two seconds did she have a long, lever-action rifle. Gold and blue embroidery traces the weapon, and engravings lined the polished white surface of the rifle giving it a look that only befitted a member of the royal family. With the weapon settling neatly into her hands, she raised the end as her eyes aligned sharply to the peep sight.

  Mike shifted his eyes back to the holographic sight on his own gun. Not bad…

  “All Rangers, you are weapons free,” Upon hearing Oliver’s orders, the men spared no expense waiting.

  The sudden cracks and thunderous screams of the weapons being fired captured the fear of everyone present within the confines of the orb. The occasional bright flashes form the muzzle would illuminate the three Reavers as the sprinted forward. Holes lined their bodies and what was presumed to be their blood, a purple sludge, flowed from the wounds onto the ground. Taking a step back and clearing a jam in his rifle, Mike glanced out of the corner of his eye and became completely dumbfounded as the princess sprung from an invisible wall behind her and launched herself in the air. As she landed in an area left of the firing Rangers, she landed and slid into a position where her left arm landed near the top of her knee. With a clenched fist she steadied her weapon and exhaled as her slim sights landed on the head of the wolf. With a single trigger pull, a beam of energy, no shorter than a shotgun shell exited the muzzle of her weapon and sent sparks around where she remained still. Instantly the bullet tore through the wolf’s chest. Slumping over the body began to disintegrate, the other two Reavers seemed shocked as they watched their now dead comrade turn into nothingness.

  “Lecca!” Mike shouted. “Fuck! Jacob, Malkovich, provide covering fire!” Moving swiftly with his weapon primed on the remaining two Reavers, the Rangers provided cover for Mike as he crossed the uncovered area. His legs burned as he walked sideways—his legs were unusually tense—he was not going to give an opening for the unknown threats, especially not when the princess had just willingly thrown herself into an exposed position.

  “Hey, Lecca! We need to move, now!” He ordered sternly reaching out a hand to the silver-haired maiden. Instinctually grabbing his hand and being hoisted to her feet, Mike turned on his boots and withdrew his pistol. He led the way back to the group as he kept the princess behind him never daring to let go of her hand until they were in a safe area.

  “Reavers,” Lecca said again, as she worked the action on her rifle expending a shell that disintegrated upon being let into the open air. Her ears ringed unbearably and she could barely hear her own voice, “Otherworldly beings that keep the balance of magic in check. If a spell fails, they respond and are summoned to eliminate the magician that attempted to cast such magic. They keep the natural order of the world; thus, few decide to trifle against their supernatural power.”

  “Didn’t you cause this?” Mike asked in a neutral tone keeping his eyes peeled on the horned bear.

  Glancing down at his rifle, Mike made one swift motion he released his spent magazine, tossed it into his dump pouch, and pulled out a topped off mag. He aligned it to the magazine well and placed it in firmly, giving a love tap at the bottom to ensure it was fully seated. There was no need to work the bolt release as there was a single bullet in the chamber.

  “Unfortunately. I request that you all assist me in killing this threat to the throne.” They had stopped firing for a brief second. It wasn’t that they confirmed that their targets had been killed, but that they were usure what the twenty bullets that had been fired into the remaining two had done. Falling into the half-circle position that protected the king and his entourage, the men took the critical seconds necessary to reload their weapons and prepare for one last stand against the remaining two Reavers.

  All the Rangers flashed their conditions green.

  “Alright you all had your show-off time!” Technical Sergeant Baker yelled sharply as he stood at the forefront of the resistance with Malkovich and Simon behind him.

  “Shoot already!” Andrew boomed.

  Bullets tore downrange. A steady tempo of semi-automatic gunfire made those without ear protection hear a constant ringing. The two reavers on the other side were knocked back by the thirty-five bullets fired, and upon collapsing onto the ground they spasmed where they laid leaking purple blood all over the once polished floors of the throne room. Captain Oliver took note of how many bullets it took to effectively kill one of the reavers. If it took just over a standard magazine load of 6.5 APC to kill one of these unknown, magic-based threats, then it would be best to avoid any future confrontations.

  “Hold fire! Hold fire!”

  As the orb surrounding the group in the middle began to dissipate, the lieutenant took the RGs present, alongside Baker, Malkovich, and Simon to inspect the quickly fading bodies of the reavers. The rest stood down and additional knights led by Captain Orwell entered the room. Mike stood beside the princess and king. Aldrich was amazed by the display that the Rangers had just given him, and the princess seemed drained by the sudden fighting as she examined the torn skirt she now wore.

  “Secure the area!” Oliver ordered.

  This is going to be a long day… Mike moved his fire selector to safe.

  Publicly Available Information: Reavers:

  Known to respond to events that threaten the balance of the magical word, Reavers are the silent protectors that will indiscriminately eliminate anyone that stands against the very nature of magic, or those that attempt to control it.

  Many scholars and historians as of late wonder why the Reavers did not participate in the campaign to eliminate the Demon Lord during the old ages.