Manifest Fantasy

Vicinity of the Gateway, Unknown Planet

November 3, 2024

A static shock tingled across Henry's skin as he stepped into the circle. The sensation faded as the welcoming green hues dimmed. He didn't even have time to process whether he'd just made a mistake before the circles disappeared into thin air. He locked eyes with the robed figure, whose previously taut gaze softened.

The older man's smile seemed to border more on excited curiosity rather than just plain friendliness as he spoke. This time, his words were not the garbled mess of Latin-sounding syllables they had once been. "Ah, your most opportune arrival, coupled with the valor you and your companions displayed in vanquishing those wicked beasts! I am bound to render my sincerest thanks," the archmage began. He had an elegant accent – a sort of British flair. His annunciation was perfect, speaking his words articulately and, most surprisingly, in English.

Henry's lips curved into a slight smile, defying his conscious effort to remain composed. He was familiar with the concept of universal translators from various sci-fi shows; evidently, the world beyond the gate was no stranger to it either. Though here it wasn't just fiction.

If Henry had to guess, it was probably related to that circle from earlier – no doubt just one of the first of the boatload of wonders this world had to offer. The possibilities hit him all at once. No more desert patrols. This was Lewis and Clark with automatic weapons, Columbus with air support. Every mission would be a first contact, every patrol a chance to discover something no one from Earth had seen before.

But first, he had to get through first contact. "This… magic you've cast, it allows us to understand each other's speech?"

The archmage returned a smile of his own. "Indeed. Through the Circle of Understanding, we have exchanged, permanently, the knowledge of our tongues. May I ask if this accords with your pleasure?"

Henry relaxed. The way this archmage talked was a bit weird – archaic, even – but it wasn't anything his experience with English literature couldn't handle. "Uh… yeah. Surprising, but yeah, it's agreeable." He took a breath. "Before we proceed, did any of your men sustain injuries during the attack? We have medics on standby who can assist."

The archmage glanced back, "By good fortune, the greater part are unscathed, and those in need are already under the ministrations of our healers; yet your kind offer is no less valued. Might I then be permitted to know the name of the one whose timely intervention has so favored us?"

What now? Shake the archmage's hand? Probably not – he wouldn't want to look like a fool if the mage did not know how to reciprocate. Might as well settle with a salute. "I'm Captain Henry Donnager from the United States of America, planet Earth. We… come in peace." He cringed as the clichéd words rolled off his tongue, but he had to admit, it did sound fitting.

"A captain – a rank of weight and responsibility, no doubt. I am Kelmithus ad Helis of the Sonaran Federation, of the realm of Gaerra. I am an archmage and scholar of the Sanctum Arcanum, and perhaps, today, a herald to a new epoch."

He extended his hand, palm open and fingers slightly curled – a universal invitation across cultures, apparently.

Henry mirrored the gesture with his gloved hand. Kelmithus' grip was firm, but not imposing. "A herald to a new epoch, you say?" He raised an eyebrow. The 'Sanctum Arcanum' didn't really sound like the domain of diplomacy or foreign relations, but who was he to assume? For all he knew, the locals could've well expected aliens to pop out of the portal at any moment and taught an old wizard some diplomatic tricks. "So then, you're authorized to kickstart diplomatic ties between our worlds?"

Kelmithus gave a hearty laugh as he released Henry's hand. "Well, the very fact of our assembly, Captain, may be regarded as a form of initiation. While I stand as mediator in this cause, I would entreat that we advance with due caution; the ground upon which we tread is as yet untried by either of us."

The hint of levity in his eyes gave way to a more serious look. Henry couldn't argue. "Safety should be our top priority," he agreed.

Kelmithus flexed his hand on his staff. "A virtue you understand well, it seems. Your armor – it is quite unlike anything I've seen…"

"It's more than just armor, sir," Henry paused, searching for the right words. "This suit I'm wearing, it's not just protection against weapons or the environment. It's also to prevent the spread of diseases that our worlds might not be prepared for."

Kelmithus lifted his chin as he scanned the contours of the suit. "Ah, so it serves as a protective raiment, warding off malign airs or, perhaps, fashioned to shield against such perils as flame? Most intriguing... and most prudent."

Henry tilted his head. He was sure Perry would've handled this better, but he more or less got the point across. "Yessir, something like that. And until we have a clearer understanding of our respective environments, it's best to exercise caution."

"Indeed, Captain, I am of your mind on this matter. Your people appear well-ordered, governed by method and form. I must ask, are there ceremonies or rites by which we might seal this concord?"

Henry felt the weight of the archmage's words, a strange blend of poeticism and practicality – lyrical, archaic, and not that hard to understand. Still, it was jarring to him, adding to the pressure of this historic mission. "We have a designated diplomat for things like that – he can handle first contact. Would it be acceptable for me to introduce him?"

Kelmithus' tilted his head up. "An ambassador? Indeed, I believe that would be prudent. I suppose he has yet to cross over?"

"Yeah. He and our leaders are observing and listening to our conversation, ensuring we move forward with the best intentions," Henry explained, tapping the side of his helmet with his knuckles.

The archmage's eyebrows rose in mild surprise. "A marvel of artifice, to scry at such a distance by these ingenious means," he murmured. "Though divided by realms, do they yet see and whisper their counsel unseen?"

Henry gave a slight chuckle. "Yeah, kinda. Think of it like…" Henry paused. What might this guy understand? "Like, uh, seeing through the eyes of an animal familiar or something… if you have those kinds of abilities? To see what's ahead of you in a dark dungeon." He was leaning heavily on his knowledge of magic from media and games and just had to hope they had some parallels here.

Kelmithus nodded. "Yes these magic are familiar. Very well. Let us hear from this Ambassador."

Whew, that was one hurdle down. Henry knew little about the jargon of fantasy – that was Ron's forte; thank God it worked. He turned, facing the portal. "Mister Ambassador, I believe it would be best if you made a personal appearance on this side."

A pause ensued before Perry's voice responded, "Understood, Captain. Give me a few moments to make preparations and I'll cross over. Maintain your diplomatic etiquette."

"Take the time you need," Henry replied, looking back at Kelmithus. "The Ambassador will be joining us in person shortly. I hope this format will be more conducive to our discussions."

Kelmithus glanced toward the portal, the shimmering light reflecting off his eyes. "I shall eagerly await his arrival. In the meantime, Captain Donnager, might we not exchange more of our own accounts and adventures, to better acquaint ourselves?"

Henry gave a nod, smiling out of relief now that the hard part was over. The opportunity for a more casual interaction was more than welcome. "Absolutely. There's much I'd like to learn about Gaerra, and I'm sure you have questions about Earth as well."

Kelmithus gazed towards the battlefield. "Indeed, I must thank you again for your aid against the fenwyrms. It's not often one sees such efficiency in dispatching them, especially the Tier 6 fenwyrm lords."

Henry followed his gaze, grimacing. "So that's what they're called. The fenwyrms… They attacked without provocation. We have creatures back on Earth that can be hostile, but these… they're on a different scale. Do they frequently pose a threat?"

Kelmithus sighed, a note of weariness in his voice. "Alas, it is so. These creatures have long plagued travelers and settlements alike, a bane most grievous. Chief among them, the Warriors and Lords are the truest peril; the Spawns, though plentiful, are of lesser trouble and more readily dispatched."

"Do they normally appear in packs like this?"

"Not as a rule. It is likely they were lured hither by the potent arcane energies unleashed in the gateway's forging of the portal." He leaned in, as if scrutinizing Henry. "And yet, for all the Aether's surfeit in this place, I see no trace of it about you or your company. Tell me, is such absence common among your people?"

Henry frowned, "Aether? Is that what you call the stuff you use to make fireballs? As far as I know, we only have stories about magic. What you see is the result of technology and innovation – no 'Aether' involved."

The archmage leaned back a bit – he looked genuinely surprised. "A world bereft of magic? How wondrously strange such a place must be. And yet, you have accomplished so much, even in the Aether's absence. Pray, by what means do these machines draw their power?"

Henry hesitated, searching for a simple explanation. "Energy. Derived from various resources on our planet. It's a… transformation of potential to motion. Like uh… a windmill?"

Kelmithus nodded slowly. "Much like the conversion of raw magical energy into a tangible spell. Or perhaps, if my comprehension does not stray, it bears resemblance to the workings of the new steam engines devised by one of the more enterprising dwarven nations."

Yet another basic trope that even he – despite his lack of interest in fantasy – could understand. "Yeah, those steam engines would probably be an apt comparison. Closer than the windmill, anyway."

Henry's answer only fueled the archmage's thirst for understanding. The little game of 21 questions continued. "Against the fenwyrms, your skill was naught short of remarkable. By what art do you wield so fearsome a power?"

"We have a combination of weaponry: guns for infantry – you've already seen 'em in action. They're supported by…" Henry paused, wondering how to put it without violating OPSEC and bestowing knowledge that didn't belong here, "Mechanical carriages with larger guns on them."

Kelmithus leaned in, his demeanor becoming more like an ecstatic researcher than that of a distinguished archmage. "These 'guns' – do they discharge metal bolts, akin to a more refined arquebus?"

Henry pondered for a moment, drawing from his limited knowledge of the topic. "Yes, similar to an arquebus but more refined. In our history, we had early firearms like the arquebus you mention, but they were a bit unreliable and less precise. Took a few centuries to get here, though." He gestured to the weapon at his side.

"A path of evolution dictated by necessity and environment. A world of endless curiosities. Such accounts as yours would find an honored place among our scholars."

Henry smiled, "Yeah. Hopefully, there'll be ample opportunity for exchanges in the future. Speaking of which, the envoy I mentioned earlier, Ambassador Perry, should be joining us momentarily. He's the best man for this job."

Perry showed up, walking down from the gateway site. His diplomatic envirosuit always stood out next to the tactical gear – cleaner lines, gold trim instead of utilitarian gray, and a lot less equipment bolted on. Different tools for different jobs. Both suits had the stars and stripes on their shoulders, but Perry's also carried the State Department's olive branch on his minimalist chestpiece.

Henry relaxed his posture. He could've handled the whole process if he really needed to, but damn if the Ambassador wasn't a welcome sight.

Kelmithus studied Perry's approach with clear interest, probably comparing the designs.

"Allow me to prepare another Circle."

The old mage dropped his staff low, almost brushing the ground, and started the incantation. Henry caught bits of it now – stuff about 'mind' and 'language' kept coming up. The gem lit up gradually with each phrase, like someone turning up a dimmer switch. Some of the words still escaped translation, too inaudible to hear at all, but he'd already got the gist of it.

Magic rippled through the dirt, settling into another green translation circle. Kelmithus exhaled once it stabilized, the staff's glow fading back to normal levels.

"The Circle is wrought. Please, bid your envoy to step within, as you yourself have done." Kelmithus straightened up from the final rune, gesturing to the circle like a salesman who knew his product would sell itself.

"Captain Donnager." Perry gave a nod to the archmage before eyeing the circle. "Looks like the initial contact went well."

"Better than expected, sir," Henryreplied. He was more than ready to pass the ball. "The magic circle you see here is called the Circle of Understanding. Kinda like a universal translator. The archmage wants you to step onto it."

Perry stepped into the circle like he was walking onto an elevator. The runes lit up with that same blue light Henry had seen earlier, though the Ambassador handled it better than expected. No stumbling, just a couple blinks as he adjusted to whatever that weird tingling sensation was. He gave Kelmithus an approving nod. "Impressive."

The archmage extended his hand. "Welcome to the realm of Gaerra. I am Archmage Kelmithus ad Helis of the Sonaran Federation."

Offering a warm, respectful smile, Perry accepted the hand. "I'm Ambassador John Perry, representing the United States of America and the greater domain of planet Earth. It is truly an honor to meet the individual who made this remarkable first contact possible."

Kelmithus quirked an eyebrow. "Were you the seer behind the earlier 'visions'? The shapes and arithmetic?"

Perry gave a slight nod, gesturing towards the rover. "Yes, in a manner of speaking. Through that device, I relayed our symbols and numbers, a way to establish the foundation for our interaction."

Kelmithus' gaze lingered on the rover. "To my mind, it bears some likeness to the manipulation of a homunculus, or the sight granted through the eyes of a summoned golem."

Perry acknowledged the remark with a nod, shifting the conversation toward the immediate concerns. "While our meeting today holds promise for both our worlds, our primary concern is the safety and well-being of everyone involved. Earlier, your men faced an attack by those creatures. Is everyone alright?"

"The Captain was quick to offer aid. Fortunately, our healers have already tended to the wounded. But I sense your approach to vitality is vastly different from ours."

Perry agreed, "It is. Still, it's heartening to know your people have been taken care of. I believe in the value of exchanging knowledge. Understanding each other's methods of healing can only benefit both our worlds."

The archmage nodded. "Our healers blend natural remedies with magic – effective, truly, yet I find myself most eager to learn of the practices you and your people employ."

Perry chose his words with care. "On Earth, our methods of healing and protection are rooted in understanding the tiny, unseen organisms that make up our body and the environment around us. Some, we call pathogens. They are so small they cannot be seen with the naked eye, but they can cause illness."

"Oh? It calls to mind certain ancient texts – tales of an unseen world, thrumming with life both benign and malign. These… 'pathogens,' as you name them – you've means by which to lay eyes on them?" Kelmithus leaned forward at that, seemingly more interested than he was with the rover and its images.

"Yes," he responded. "Through devices that magnify, we can observe them."

"Perhaps not unlike our divining magics," Kelmithus speculated. "These unseen beings, if borne of your world, might they prove a peril to ours? Or… ours to yours?"

"Exactly," Perry replied. "There's potential for unpredictable reactions when the organisms of two different worlds converge. It's why we tread carefully."

The archmage was connecting the dots now, glancing between their envirosuits. "I surmise then, it is this knowledge that prompted the protective armor your men don. It shields not just against the seen, but the unseen?"

Perry affirmed with a nod, "That's a succinct way to put it, Archmage. Before progressing further, we'd need to ensure no harmful elements affect either side. This would involve collecting samples from the environment and Gaerran organisms, including samples of bodily fluids."

The archmage's face went through several interesting expressions at once, landing somewhere between the shock of 'did I hear that right?' and the awkward smile of 'these strange aliens want my what now?' But… credit where it was due – he got his poker face back on real quick.

"Well then," he began, an eyebrow arching, "it would seem vigilance is accompanied by a tenacity most uncommon. I must admit, this is far afield of our usual practices. Even so, I commend your thoroughness. Should such measures prove essential, I trust they will be pursued with both care and discretion – perhaps, too, a measure of moderation."

Perry let out a light chuckle. "Unconventional requests aside, your adaptability is refreshing, Archmage. Though perhaps we should get our cultural exchange teams working sooner rather than later – might help us avoid any more moments where I have to ask distinguished mages for their bodily fluids."

"Sound counsel, Ambassador. The city of Eldralore is but a short journey from here; it would serve well as a place for your scholars to acquaint themselves with our customs. Such immersion, I trust, shall forestall further occasions wherein venerable mages are met with... unorthodox requests that tax even their composure."

Perry smiled. "We'll need time to prepare our delegation –," he paused, looking at the time conversion plastered on his HUD. Apparently, based on the suns trajectory during their time spent on-word so far, 24 hours equaled 24 hours on Earth. "We can convene here in seven days. Will that provide adequate time for your people to prepare?"

"That should be sufficient, Ambassador," Kelmithus confirmed.

"During this time," Perry continued, "We would like to set up a permanent base of operations near the portal. This will facilitate our communication and aid in the safety and wellbeing of both our people."

Kelmithus tapped his fingers around his staff. "The Grenden Plains are regarded as neutral ground, unbound by any holdings or accords that might hinder an alien faction from establishing themselves here. We shall leave behind a contingent of specialists and scholars, both to assist with your protocols and to exchange knowledge as suits our mutual purpose. When the time is ripe, we shall accompany your delegation to Eldralore, where official talks may commence in proper form."

Perry offered a handshake. "Archmage Kelmithus, I feel very optimistic about the future of our two worlds. We have taken the first steps toward a meaningful relationship."

The archmage grasped Perry's hand firmly. "Thus do we step into uncharted waters together."

——

Grenden Plains

Armstrong Base

November 10, 2024

Within just a week, the forward operating base, or FOB, was starting to look like an actual base, not just some clearing where they'd fought off fenwyrms a week ago. Construction crews had carved out dirt roads between the prefab buildings, with comms equipment and construction vehicles scattered around the perimeter. The portal towered over everything like some sci-fi movie prop, with a bunch of local mages setting up their translation circles nearby.

Honestly, it was hard to tell which looked more out of place – their magic circles next to the bulldozers, or the bulldozers next to a dimensional portal.

The command center could've been pulled straight from any deployment - metal walls, fluorescent lights, and the classic mix of PowerPoint warriors and field personnel trying to hash out a plan. Some captain was going hoarse explaining why they couldn't just 'magic up' more fuel for the new generators, while the science team was apparently getting excited over piss samples.

The center table looked like operational planning circa 1944: hand-drawn Sonaran maps spread out next to tablets showing drone footage of the route to Eldralore. Someone had rigged up an interactive display that turned their recon data into what could've passed for a neat Civilization VI mod.

Harding was posted up at the head of the table, studying the convoy routes with that same intensity he'd had prior to the initial gateway activation. Perry and Lombard were already there, Perry annotating something while Lombard's team passed around their latest reports. One landed in front of Henry as he grabbed a seat – bio team's analysis showing 'promising environmental compatibility,' which was scientist-speak for 'probably won't kill us.'

Harding cleared his throat. "Alright people, let's get started. One week on the ground in Gaerra. Bio team's given us the green light. No nasty surprises in the air or water, and we're adapting our field protocols based on what we've learned about the local wildlife."

Henry shifted in his seat. Those post-patrol decontamination procedures were a pain in the ass, but better safe than sorry. At least they weren't dealing with some toxic Pandoran atmosphere.

"Our primary objective," the general continued, "will be to learn more about this planet, its life, and the 'Aether' phenomena that looks a hell of a lot like magic. Now ideally, we make as much progress as we can, as fast as we can – before we start runnin' into any giant lizard monsters. And to do that, we'll be making friends. Ambassador." He handed it off to Perry.

"Diplomatic channels are open and productive," Perry said, straightening his tie. "Kelmithus and the Sonaran leadership have been remarkably forthcoming. We've hammered out preliminary cooperation guidelines. All we need to do now is actually meet with the Sonaran representative, Duke Vancor ad Styne of Eldralore. If all goes well, you can look forward to a typical R and R package – exotic food, a week of touring, the works. I'll be in the central MRAP with Captain Donnager and Lieutenant Owens."

"Em-rap?" Kelmithus repeated.

"Mine-Resisant Ambush Protected vehicle," Henry clarified. "Should be able to handle most things that are thrown at us." He almost added 'hopefully' at the end there, but there wasn't any reason to spook their guest like that.

General Harding leaned in slightly, placing both hands on the table. "We've been fortunate so far. The Sonarans have been invaluable in teaching us about the local wildlife and guiding our recon. But here's the hard truth: while we've chased away most of the hostile fauna and secured a clear path to Eldralore, there are pockets out there that are unpredictable – blind spots that could bite us in the ass. And, to be frank, there's a lot we can't ever expect with magic in play."

Henry studied the terrain display. Standard topography: A network of blue lines signified rivers, and patches of green hinted at forests. But what caught his attention were the grey symbols – caves and ruins. "Any significance to these?"

"Ah." Kelmithus had materialized next to him, looking weirdly tactical in his wizard robes with that plate carrier underneath. The dude had adapted to Earth gear faster than Henry had gotten used to seeing body armor on a wizard. "Local cave systems and forgotten ruins – placid in appearance, yet ever prone to mischief. It is the way of such places, to invite the scourge of brigands and the hunger of monstrous beasts. From these vantage points, they ply their ambuscades upon merchants hapless enough to pass unguarded."

This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

Henry glanced at the latest intel report in his hands. The 'brigand' attacks the Sonarans had documented were more organized than the typical highway robbery. These guys knew basic small unit tactics, probably picked up from time in local militias or adventuring parties. "Anything else we should factor in?"

"Our simulations account for what we know," General Harding said. "The rest, of course, we'll handle as usual. Adapt and overcome."

A lieutenant burst into the command center with a tablet just as the words left Harding's mouth. "Sir, drone feed caught something about ten miles up the convoy route." He pulled up the footage - aerial view of a meadow with wisps of smoke rising from what looked like a recent campfire. From the aerial perspective, there was no discernible movement in the vicinity of the smoke. No visible figures, nor any indication of it being anything more than a solitary fire.

Kelmithus leaned in to study the feed, not even blinking at the tech anymore. "It lies near the trail oft trod by adventurers of Eldralore, drawn to the ruins in their ceaseless hunt for relics of antiquity. The camp of a small Party, perhaps?"

"Hmm…" Harding crossed his arms as he considered the new information. "We'll make some adjustments. Let's include an extra Sheriff UGV, plus an armed quadcopter overhead."

Kelmithus inclined his head, "If I may, I should join the 'em-rap' alongside Ambassador Perry and Captain Donnager. My expertise may yet avail us greatly – both in the navigation of dealings with my countrymen and in countering whatever arcane perils might lie ahead."

Henry caught Perry's slight nod. Valid point.

"Very well. Before we finalize the formation, let's introduce you to some specialists we're adding to the mission – folks you'll probably be seeing a lot more of."

They headed for the makeshift motor pool, where the convoy was prepped and a line of personnel awaited. The whole setup looked like any pre-mission brief, except for the dimensional portal looming in the background.

Harding started with Ron, which nearly made Henry grin. "Most of you know Lieutenant Owens. He's been here since day one."

Ron bounced on his feet like some kid excited to meet Santa. Or in this case, more like a weeb dying to meet his waifu. Still, Henry had to give it to him; Ron had managed to keep his face locked down tight. He was professional enough to at least wait for intros before going full fanboy over the fact that he was indeed in a fantasy world.

As Owens gave a curt nod, the General's hand moved to the next two figures. "Isaac Yen and Ryan Hayes, our specialists from Langley. They'll be helping us navigate the local... complexities."

The two men stood with the kind of perfectly unremarkable posture that took years of tradecraft to achieve. Nothing about them screamed 'Agency,' which was exactly how he knew they were Agency. Henry had seen enough of them during joint ops to recognize that carefully crafted 'nondescript' invisibility. If not for the gear, the intro, and their files, he would've guessed them to be genuine civvies.

Ryan had this whole suburban Nashville thing going: tasteful cowboy hat and the kind of groomed beard that belonged on a Ram truck commercial, or on the stage of a country concert. The same exact type that'd get sorority girls double-tapping his Instagram. His file was blacked out to hell and back – standard Agency stuff – so reading him meant working with scraps. But that was the thing: there was nothing to read.

Most operators carried their experience somewhere – in their posture, their eyes, something. Ryan looked like his biggest concern was whether his fantasy football trade would go through on this side of the portal. Either Henry was losing his edge, or this was that unicorn case: someone who'd gone through the grinder and come out completely metabolized. Genuinely, impossibly normal.

Isaac, meanwhile, had gone the opposite route with a standard tech-bro fade, dressed business casual. Except whoever tailored his shirt had to work around shoulders that belonged on a lightweight boxer. Dude was straight-up chiseled like Bruce Lee.

Unlike Ryan's casual nonchalance, Isaac did the whole strong silent thing. Ironically, that actually made him easier to read. The ghosts of the past lingered in his eyes, though his eager expression suggested this new planet was probably a fresh start to him.

General Harding wrapped up the intro with the most distinct of the bunch: a guy who looked like he should be grading papers somewhere in Cambridge. Despite the professorial look in his file, he had the posture of a drill sergeant and the precise leather jacket of an adventurer. Shit, Henry would bet the man probably spent more hours raiding tombs than in a lecture hall. He bore quite a resemblance to a certain archeologist, honestly. All he was missing was a fedora and whip to seal the deal.

"And Dr. Victor Anderson here. If you've been with Manifest from the start, you know him as the archaeologist who cracked the artifacts that got us here. He's joining us to study Sonaran culture firsthand."

Dr. Anderson gave that understated smile of someone who'd just finished a huge project – and was now seeing the fruits of his labor.

"Zulu-9 will provide support. Their track record with the local wildlife speaks for itself." He gave a nod, signaling the beginning of the operational phase.

Henry had no intention of fucking up. Dad had turned down Mars to take care of Grandma. How disappointed would he be if Henry fumbled this opportunity? He didn't even entertain the thought.

They split up, preparing to move out. Teams ran final checks on the M-ATV MRAPs while the Sheriff UGVs rolled on ahead. The techs were still fussing over the missile loadouts – mix of SACLOS and Hellfires, good variety for whatever fantasy threat they might come across.

Kelmithus, sharing a few last words with Perry, gestured towards a group of Sonarans climbing into carriages led by quadrupedal, reptilian pack animals – closer to horses than alligators. "Our dradaks are prepared, and my knights stand ready. Together we ensure a secure passage." He hopped inside the vehicle with a lot more enthusiasm than his voice would've suggested.

Henry couldn't blame him; he'd probably be just as giddy if someone let him ride a speeder bike. He followed behind Kelmithus, claiming shotgun as he sat next to Ron, who was already seated at the wheel. "All set?"

With a thumbs-up, Ron responded, "Systems are green, Captain. Just waiting for the Sonarans." The big guy was still grinning like he'd just unwrapped a PS5. Shit was contagious too – Henry felt his own mouth twitch upward before he could lock it down. Ron had that golden retriever energy that almost made him forget why being cynical was supposed to be cool.

The dradaks ahead let out a strange cry – a mix between a roar and a neigh – before trotting forward and leaving the confines of the rudimentary base. The convoy rolled out behind them, Humvees and MRAPs crawling along at the magical mounts' pace. It felt like some bizarre military escort mission, except they were the ones being escorted.

"This terrain really makes me feel like I'm in one of those isekais," Ron said, gawking at the Alps-like mountains in the distance.

Henry had to agree. The landscape looked like someone had fixed reality's color settings. Trees dotted the hills in perfect spacing, grass so green it made real lawns look washed out. The flowers popped like they'd been professionally color-graded – deep purples and vibrant oranges that normal nature could never quite hit. It was what the world would look like if Instagram filters were permanent. Honestly? It was kinda nice not dealing with Groom Lake's gloomy palette for once.

"Feel like you're in an isekai? Gang, you are in an isekai," he chuckled.

Dr. Anderson leaned back, shifting around to make space for Kelmithus' staff. "I've seen a lot of great environments, but nothing quite like this. I'd say this is straight out of a Tolkien work, though the ecosystem here is mind-bogglingly diverse – nothing like anything I've read so far."

"A bit too diverse for my liking. I'll admit, the scenery's beautiful as shit. But man, the wildlife's hella aggressive. Jenkins damn near lost his hand tryna fuck around and feed a dire wolf that was scavenging around the FOB. Goblins are goblins, if the past week of weathering their haphazard attacks on the base has proven anything. And don't even remind me about those fenwyrms," Henry commented. "I'd rather not have another fenwyrm surprise."

Kelmithus chimed in, "The scouting wrought by your 'drones' should remain reliable. A surprise assault on the scale of that which befell us at the ruins is improbable. Well, so long as we refrain from invoking mana to a degree akin to the artifact's power, we shall not risk drawing the attention of beasts anew."

Perry peeled away from the scenery at the window. "We should arrange a joint training session sometime. Exchange some best practices. We can show you our tactics, and you could teach us how to… develop magic capacity?"

Kelmithus laughed before clearing his throat. "Ah, forgive me, Ambassador, but you may find the study of magic a rather more arduous pursuit than anticipated. Here, all are born with a measure of mana – an innate reservoir upon which our spells depend. I cannot say how well our methods might translate to those bereft of such a gift. Yet, I confess, the notion intrigues me. Perhaps, in exchange, I might behold one of these 'drones' of yours?"

Henry checked the drone feed again. Clean across the board – no heat signatures, no movement. As if that meant much when magic was a thing.

He answered Kelmithus, "That can be arranged. But right now, our focus should be on that forested region up ahead. Archmage Kelmithus, you mentioned adventurers frequenting areas like these?"

"Yeah, how exactly do adventurers work around here?" Ron seconded Henry's question, interested more in the conversation than the road.

Everyone perked up at the mention of adventurers, almost matching Ron's enthusiasm.

Kelmithus jumped at the opportunity to play professor, like it was his life's calling. "Ah, adventurers. Quite eclectic, bound by thrill and challenge. They are wont to gather in the cities, seeking employment through guilds that dispense tasks of varying nature – colloquially know as quests.

"These quests range from exploring ancient ruins in pursuit of forgotten relics, to foraging for rare herbs, to taming or vanquishing the wild beasts that plague the regions. Even the more mundane labors of aiding the townsfolk in their toils fall to their lot. For their efforts, they are rewarded with coin, renown, and the chance to ascend the guild's hierarchy, their prowess measured by the Tiers they achieve."

Dr. Anderson tilted his head. "These Tiers… they signify some sort of ranking system?"

Kelmithus nodded, "Precisely so. An adventurer starts at the lower echelons, say Tier 2 or 3, and as they complete quests and prove their mettle, they ascend the ranks. Achieving Tier 10 status is no trivial feat; very few ever see this. In this realm, a high-tiered adventurer commands no small measure of respect, for such a one could rival, if not surpass, a company of knights and mages in both strength and cunning."

Ron smirked, glancing at the passengers behind him and then back to the road. "Sounds like a fantasy MMO." He turned toward Henry, "Bet you'll finally get into WoW after living it for real, huh?"

"Em Em Oh?" The term caught Kelmithus' interest.

"Right, uh…" Ron shifted in his seat, probably realizing how weird it was explaining video games to an actual archmage. "Imagine a scrying spell that allows you to see a an illusory realm, called a simulation. Within this realm, you can control a version of yourself. Like a golem, sorta. This golem avatar can interact with others, go on quests, and face challenges, all within this simulated realm. Millions from Earth do this at once, interacting with each other, but all within the safety of this make-believe environment."

Kelmithus looked intrigued. "A fascinating concept. So these… Em Em Ohs, they allow individuals to experience grand adventures, yet shorn of peril or tangible cost?"

Ron scratched his head. "Well, more like a way for office workers to pretend they're heroes for a few hours. But yeah, same idea, I guess."

Ron's eyes lit up like he'd just remembered something. "Oh yeah, speaking of hero stuff – I've been meaning to ask. Back with those fenwyrms, how come you didn't just, y'know…" He made an explosive gesture with right hand. "Drop a meteor on them? Or summon a tsunami? Or fuckin'… I dunno, a magic laser? They have those in some MMO's"

Kelmithus' eyebrows climbed toward his hairline, like he was a teacher who'd just heard the latest upgrade to the classic dog-eating-homework bullshittery. "A magic… laser? By the heavens, from what fevered dream spring such wild fancies?"

"Hey, I mean, you're an Archmage and all. Guess I just thought that with all that power you could uh…" Ron waved vaguely, "make anything happen?"

"Goodness, these 'Em Em Ohs' of yours have filled your head with mad notions!" Kelmithus shook his head, mouth twitching like he was fighting back a laugh. "True it is that mana may be wrought into substance, yet the feats you mention? Such effort would drain even an Archmage unto death. You think I might conjure your 'tsunami' from mere mana? I would be naught but dust ere the first wave formed."

Ron deflated slightly, as if the revelation mattered to a man who couldn't use magic in the first place. "So… no meteors then. Got it."

"To call down a meteor from the heavens? Even did I know where such stones drift in the distant skies, the mana required would empty a score of mages unto death. Wherefore would any soul attempt such folly when the very earth lies ready beneath our feet? 'Tis madness to conjure water when the air itself holds moisture, lunacy to create stone when mountains stand ready to serve."

"What about those fireballs you tossed around?" Ron asked.

"Pah! We heat the air and feed it with what sundry vapors and motes already dance therein - we conjure not flame from the void like gods! Each element keeps its own nature: fire must feed, water must flow, earth will not be hurried. The wise mage bends to these laws, lest he break himself upon them."

"Suppose a mage happens upon a fire elemental in the desert," Kelmithus continued. "He may conjure water from pure mana to douse the flames – and perish of mana exhaustion in doing so. Or he might command the very sands beneath his feet, call forth the winds that already swirl about him to choke the flames, and remain fresh as morning."

Magic was already starting to sound less alien to Henry. "So it's still bound by physics. Or uh, nature. Natural laws?"

Kelmithus seemed delighted someone got it. "Indeed so! We do but bend what laws already govern creation. Hence why scholars of natural philosophy oft prove the greatest mages."

Ron slumped in his seat. "Man, even magic has homework."

Well, that was a relief. Ron's disappointment was a small price to pay, all things considered. True, magic was still bullshit by all accounts, but at least it was ordered bullshit. Not like playground arguments where every kid invented new powers on the fly.

'My shield blocks everything!' 'Well my laser goes through shields!' 'Nuh-uh, my shield blocks shield-breaking lasers!' That spiral of one-upmanship every eight-year-old knew by heart. Thank God magic couldn't just make shit up when it was losing.

And even better: they potentially had something to offer the Sonarans when it came to trade. If what Kelmithus said about 'natural philosophy' held true, then even a high-school science textbook would be worth its weight in gold. Though, they'd need something damn good in return to justify an upgrade from fireballs to plasmaballs, and all the other souped-up insanity that'd come with an exchange of scientific knowledge.

Kelmithus, thankfully, didn't dwell too much on the idea. He sighed, "Oh, if only we had the abilities your 'Em Em Oh's proclaim. 'Twould be a great boon to us all. Unlike your 'simulations' where death means naught but starting anew, here the perils are flesh and blood. Forests such as the one we approach hold treasures true enough – and threats that will not vanish when you tire of the game."

Perry interjected, "Given these forests are often frequented by adventurers, how should we perceive them? Potential allies, possible threats?"

Kelmithus pondered for a brief moment before responding, "More oft than not, allies. Upon joining their guilds, all adventurers are bound by contracts – a formal undertaking that compels them to observe local laws and to treat the populace with due respect. The consequences for breaching these covenants are grave indeed, leaving few bold enough to court such ruin. While a handful may possess dubious character, none would dare descend to the ignominy of banditry. Most, I find, are noble of heart, swift to lend their strength to those in need."

"Huh, well that's good to know. And the few who aren't?" Henry asked.

Kelmithus opened his mouth to respond, but was cut off by a loud crack against the window, as if they'd just been hit with an anti-materiel rifle. The ballistic glass spiderwebbed but held. Before Henry could even process what had hit them, something slammed into the ground ahead. A boulder missed the lead rider but crushed his decoy carriage flat like it was made of cardboard. Their MRAP lurched as the ground turned to soup underneath them, tires spinning while the dradaks ahead thrashed in panic.

The dense, oppressive green of the forest came alive with enemy fire, forming a claustrophobic corridor of potential threats on all sides. Henry didn't know if the thermals were somehow bugging out, but nothing registered them. It was like they just materialized out of nowhere.

Henry had gotten somewhat used to magic throwing curveballs at him over the last week, but so far it'd been mostly weird animals, not organized hostiles. The arrows hit like .50 cal rounds – the impacts actually rocked the vehicle, each one a sledgehammer blow that would've punched through a regular car like tissue paper. Thank God for whatever overengineered alloy this thing was made of. The rocks that followed were almost cute by comparison, probably leaving divots in the paint job but not much else.

Someone downrange got creative with earth spikes, trying to punch through the undercarriage. Nice try, but everyone knows steel beats rock. Anything less than an IED couldn't hope to do more than scrape the armor.

Of course, that's exactly when the enemy decided to pull out their closest analogue to IEDs.

A fireball streaked out of the trees toward one of the UGVs. The blast felt more like an old bazooka round than modern ordnance – enough punch to rock their vehicle and leave scorch marks, but nothing that would've impressed Kelmithus.

Henry had seen what real magic could do. Those high-tier spells that turned fenwyrms into paste? That was power. This was probably Tier 5 at best, the magical equivalent of small arms fire. If these guys could throw around the kind of reality-bending shit Kelmithus's crew had demonstrated, this would've been a whole different fight – less 'counter-insurgency' and more Desert Storm. The difference between chasing fragmented ISIS through mountains and facing down Republican Guard divisions.

It could've been a real problem if the enemy had adapted fast enough. Instead of shoving their vehicles into a ditch with magic, the hostiles kept repeating the same tactics, spikes shooting up only to shatter against reinforced steel. Modern armor versus bargain-bin battle magic was turning out exactly how Ron had told him it would. At least, until they inevitably started using magic the way the VietCong would.

Ron was already shifting into a staggered formation with the other vehicles. Crazy how all that had happened within a few seconds. "Ambush, three and nine! Dismount and take cover!"

"Bandits!" Kelmithus exclaimed, "Prepare yourselves!"

Another arrow pinged off the MRAP's armor, but Henry was already barking orders while his hands found the door latch, bringing his rifle up as he dropped behind the front tire. "Perry, Doc, stay close. Owens, stick with the knights!" The optic revealed exactly what he'd feared: dense forest providing perfect cover for their attackers, with visibility going to shit even through his enhanced imaging.

Zulu-9 was already engaging, their .50 cals opening up alongside the deeper thunder of 30mm autocannons. The knights stepped up between the vehicles, barriers of translucent energy flowing into existence as his team added their rifle fire to the mix. The combination of modern firepower and medieval magic was starting to feel almost normal after a week on this planet.

Henry tracked targets through his optic, throwing 6.8mm at any movement in the trees. Perry and Anderson took cover behind the next MRAP, with Ron and two knights providing security. Modern weapons versus medieval armor and magical barriers? Hell, they almost didn't have much to worry about. Even their rifles were tearing through whatever protection these ambushers had. Between the sustained heavy weapons fire and precise shots, they were turning the forest edge into splinters and smoke, bodies dropping as the ambushers lost their advantage.

"Pioneer to Armstrong, Tango-Mike," he called in, working on autopilot. "Magic users confirmed, heavy contact. Uploading coords. 10 mikes from Eldralore. Request immediate QRF."

A voice on the other end crackled to life, "Armstrong to Pioneer, copy all. QRF spinning up. ETA 20 minutes."

Henry sent the coordinates while scanning the tactical overlay in his HUD. His people were in good positions, but twenty minutes was a long time to hold against an enemy whose capabilities they still couldn't fully predict. "Armstrong, Pioneer copies. Make it quick."

The forest erupted with a scream that got real short when someone in the convoy opened up with a .50. Henry kept scanning the burning tree line through his IVAS, catching a telltale red circle floating by the big boulder. "Mage, two o'clock, 50 meters past the rock!"

Two cracks from Hayes' rifle. First mage dropped, head and shoulders gone. Second one took it in the shoulder, his spell fizzling out as quickly as his arm.

"Good fucking shot, Hayes!" Their combined firepower was already starting to show its effect on the enemy's morale. As morbid as it was, their collapsing assault was good news for Henry. "Knights, hold position. Their magic's faltering."

A scream ripped through the air beside him. Harris went down hard, arm thoroughly pierced by an arrow.

Henry roared into his comms. "Man down! Get a medic up here! Suppressing fire!"

Yen and Hayes had him behind the MRAP before Henry finished calling it, with Yen already on medic detail, down to the casual calm.

"Clean hit through the arm, Harris. Nothing vital, bleeding's manageable. Bet they didn't cover magic arrows in CLS, huh?" Yen was already pulling supplies from his AFAK. He jabbed a morphine auto-injector into the man's thigh – not that Harris seemed to notice, his face locked in that thousand-yard stare of pure adrenaline and pain. After a quick swab with antiseptic, Yen nodded to their Sonaran support. "Got our local wizard here to patch you up. Way better than stitches."

One of the knights stepped up, yellow light already building around his hands as he started chanting about life and vitality. The magic hit Harris like a wave, zeroing in on the wound. The skin seemed to knit itself back together, the torn muscle fibers rejoining.

A war cry yanked his attention back to the fight. Figures blur-sprinting out of the trees - definitely enhanced, but enhanced didn't mean shit against modern firepower. The MRAPs' turrets opened up, UGV autocannons joining in, and that fancy speed magic just meant they died faster.

As the intensity peaked, a distinct whistle sliced through the noise. The bandits pulled back like someone flipped a switch, melting into the woods as fast as they'd appeared.

"Cease fire, cease fire!" Henry thundered, keeping his optics on the tree line. He could see the figures receding – what remained of the bandit force. "Status report!"

One of Zulu-9 spoke up. "Two injured, but they're good now thanks to that magic."

"Copy." Henry rallied his men. "Secure the perimeter! Zulu-9, cover all flanks! Get some drones in the air!" While Zulu-9 members and Sonaran knights promptly established a 360-degree security perimeter around the convoy, the drones overhead maintained vigilant scans of the retreating bandits, ensuring no immediate threats lurked nearby.

"Vehicle check!" Ron shouted, already inspecting their MRAP. The UGVs looked like they'd gone mudding and caught some scorch marks for their trouble, but systems were green across the board. Most of the Sonaran carriages had made it too – lucky for them the bandits had focused on the harder targets.

Henry caught movement by the rear vehicles: Kelmithus, staff glowing as he talked quickly with one of his knights. The archmage paused to look over the gory aftermath, then stopped to check on a wounded knight. One touch had the guy's face relaxing as healing magic did its work.

When Kelmithus made his way over, Henry recognized that look. There was a solemnity in his gaze, one that told of a man who'd seen the horrors of battle and found them wanting. But there was something else there too, the same look Navy guys got watching a carrier launch for the first time. The archmage had probably run hundreds of scenarios about how Earth weapons would match up against magic. Now he had his answer, written in scorched earth and shattered stone.

The forest had gone quiet now, save for the distant chatter of birds resuming their songs. "Archmage?"

"Your weapons," he mused, his voice tinged with both respect and revulsion, "make even the wildest magic seem tame."

Henry took in the fallen trees and the smoky air. "That's the thing about our weapons. They're weapons of war. We designed them for one job: killing the enemy. Everything else is just window dressing."

"Yes," Kelmithus said, removing the arrow from the cracked window, "evidently so. This was no mere opportunistic attack. Their sorcery was too refined; the level of coordination speaks not of banditry," he observed.

Henry scanned the aftermath. "Area needs to be locked down before we start asking questions. Can you handle the terrain issues – mud and those boulders up ahead?"

Kelmithus got to work, doing that thing magic users did where they made reality their bitch. The mud hardened back into proper ground while the boulders rolled aside like they were on invisible tracks. Hard to believe this was the same scholar who'd gotten excited over basic math just last week.

The Sonaran knights, meanwhile, busied themselves with cleanup, checking the wreckage for survivors. They'd caught a few of the bandits alive – though 'alive' was generous considering what modern weapons had done to them. The ones who'd caught 5.56 and 6.8 weren't too bad off, relatively speaking. One guy was missing an arm where the .50 cal had caught him, but he'd somehow lucked out otherwise.

The rest of their buddies who'd eaten direct hits from the heavy weapons... well, the knights didn't bother with those bodies. One of them even threw up. First time they'd seen what Earth weapons could do to unarmored targets. Probably wouldn't be the last.

So much for the Prime Directive, not that they gave much of a shit about it in the first place. What Henry did give a shit about, though, was the fact that the enemy had managed to do any damage at all. They'd lucked out, fighting low-tier bandits. What if they'd run into an evil version of Kelmithus instead? They probably could've capped him with a bullet in the back of the head, but not without suffering extensive casualties.

Yeah, Henry would definitely need to talk to command about getting some SOP in place for magical engagements.

And if things had gone worse today? He could probably kiss this dream of a lifetime goodbye. Who knew how much the General could tolerate before he decided to send him packing, never again to live out the fantasy of exploring another planet? Henry was not about to let that happen, even if it meant mastering magic, or how to put those that use it in the ground.

"The path is clear," Kelmithus reported.

Henry gave him a nod of appreciation before reaching for his radio. "Pioneer to Armstrong, area clear. Ambush neutralized."

A brief silence ensued before a response came through. "Armstrong copies, Pioneer. CASREPs?"

"Four minor injuries, equipment operational. Proceeding to Eldralore."

"Copy that, Pioneer. Continue to update. QRF en route; ETA two minutes. Will rendezvous and provide escort remainder. Armstrong out."

Ron approached Henry, "Yo, we gonna move forward or we gonna retrograde?"

"We're moving forward. QRF's linking up with us." Henry stowed the radio, addressing the team with urgency. "Mount up and move out. Stay alert; we're not out of the woods yet."

The convoy came back to life – engines growling, radios chattering, gear clinking as everyone got back in position. Through his mirror, Henry caught Perry leaning forward in the back seat. "You said this wasn't a typical bandit attack, Archmage?"

Kelmithus replied, "No. Their coordination, their spellwork… it bears the mark of those schooled in their craft. Not of the highest tier, but far more efficient than the wild, improvised castings of self-taught bandits. Professionals, most assuredly."

Perry nodded slowly. "Professionals, meaning…?"

Kelmithus sighed, looking at the cracked window to his side, "I harbor suspicions, yes, though none with certainty. Their grasp of magic hints at ties to one of the great powers of South Eanif. The Nobian Empire springs foremost to mind, given the execution of this ambush. Yet, for now, I must call it but conjecture."

"Archmage, regarding the individuals your knights have detained… It might be mutually beneficial for us to jointly understand their motives. Would it be possible for our teams to collaborate in gathering information from them?"

Henry looked back and added on, "It's imperative we understand the full scope of this attack. We have methods and techniques that might be unfamiliar to yours, which could yield results."

Kelmithus raised a brow. "A point well made, Captain. Very well, I shall see to it that our knights make arrangements for an interrogation, one wherein both Sonarans and Americans may lend their expertise."

The forest opened up into something straight out of a fantasy tourism board – golden fields, shepherds with their flocks, the whole big budget package. But the money shot was dead ahead: Eldralore. Even after a week of magic circles and dradaks, seeing a full-blown fantasy city hit different. The spires weren't just tall, they were engineering feats in stone that put Notre Dame to shame. The walls looked like they'd seen more action than a Normandy bunker, complete with guards running ye olde customs inspection at the gates.

Their convoy crawled to a stop behind what had to be merchant caravans, though calling them that felt weird when they were actually right there, loaded down with goods that probably cost a fortune back home. The locals were in as much of a culture shock as them – farmers frozen mid-work in their fields, staring at the MRAPs like they were alien spacecraft. Which, to be fair, they might as well have been.

The city guards were trying to play it cool, but their white-knuckle grips on their weapons said otherwise. A group of adventurers tried rubbernecking until Kelmithus' knights shooed them off.

Ron leaned into the wheel, damn near pressing his face against the windshield. "Ho. Ly. Shit."

Henry grabbed his phone for some photos; this was definitely one for the classified Instagram. Perry and the others were doing their best to maintain diplomatic composure, but they were all plastered to the windows as much as Ron was. Understandable.

Kelmithus unclicked his seatbelt with a proud smile. "Welcome to the city of Eldralore."