Manifest Fantasy

Eldralore, Sonaran Federation

November 11, 2024

Bzzt! Bzzt!

Henry felt a subtle vibration under his neck, groaning as his dream faded away. It took a couple seconds for his foggy mind to register the sensation, but once clarity hit, his eyes snapped open. The pager beneath his pillow was the source of the disruption – a silent alarm was triggered.

Heart rate elevating, he instantly shifted from half-consciousness to alert readiness. He grabbed his sidearm from the nightstand and pocketed his vibrating pager, taking a swig from a water bottle before pushing off the covers. He grabbed his uniform from the chair and walked over to the closet, taking the tactical vest and rifle stashed within. With a pattern of knocks, the door opened a fraction, revealing Ron’s silhouette. “Tripped laser,” was all he offered.

Henry nodded, securing his vest. “Cams?”

Ron shook his head, eyes darting momentarily toward the corridor. “Footage showed zilch. Everyone’s gathering – conference room.”

Henry yawned. “Fuck, bro. What time is it?”

“Four in the morning,” Ron responded.

With a heavy sigh, Henry mentally prepared himself. “Alright. Let’s go.”

The two men left the room, navigating the mansion’s dimly lit halls. Arriving at the conference room, they found the door slightly ajar, revealing a soft glow from within. Henry pushed it open, and the scene unfolded before him: Isaac was hunched over a portable tablet, tracing a path with his finger. Ryan stood next to him, pointing out specific spots on the screen, his brow furrowed in concentration. A cluster of Zulu-9 operators and Sonaran knights murmured amongst themselves, exchanging glances and sharing theories. More members continued to stream into the room, groggy-eyed but tense.

“Yen,” Henry began, nodding in acknowledgment as he stepped inside, “Report.”

Isaac looked up, holding out the tablet. “The laser at the entrance was tripped. No staff over there.”

Ron leaned in, eyes squinting at the screen. “Camera feeds?”

Ryan interjected before Isaac could answer, “All up and running. But there’s nothing out of the ordinary with them. We’re reviewing the footage again to see if we missed something.”

There was a pause – a stifling silence hanging in the air. The weight was broken by an unexpected quip from one of the Zulu-9s, “Maybe it’s a ghost, looking for some late-night snacks?”

A few chuckles resonated through the room. Henry smirked but remained focused. “Keep the jokes for later,” he said, eyes still on the tablet. “We need to–”

Another alert sounded, this one more pronounced. Heads snapped toward the source. Ryan quickly tapped on the camera feed, magnifying the view of the grand hall. The doors to the grand hall were open, but there was no one present.

“Shit, do ghosts actually exist?” someone else asked.

Henry’s sharp eyes caught it first – a barely discernible ripple in the air, reminiscent of heatwaves on asphalt. “Wait,” he said, holding up a hand. He motioned to the screen. “There. Replay that.”

Ryan quickly rewound the feed, playing back the last few seconds. The doors creaked open slightly, followed by the same ripple almost imperceptibly moving inside.

“The fuck?” Isaac noticed the faint distortion. “Legit ghosts? Active camo?”

“Switch to infrared,” Henry ordered, a gut feeling nudging him.

Ryan raised an eyebrow. “Infrared? You think it’ll show up?”

“Just a hunch,” Henry said.

With a tap, the screen’s hue shifted. The grand hall was awash in blues and purples, with the occasional yellow of warmer objects. But next to the warm amber glow of the lantern, there was a distinct, cold silhouette. More silhouettes surrounded it, each varied in how well they blended with the background.

Henry leaned in closer, his suspicion confirmed. “Gotcha,” he murmured.

Ryan blinked, surprise evident. “I’ll be damned.”

The murmurs grew louder as the men in the room commented on the source of the intrusion. “What the hell is that?”

Before Henry could voice his thoughts, Kelmithus approached the screen. Catching sight of the evidence, his face tightened. “That,” he began, voice low, “is no mere phantasm. ‘Tis the art of Nobian cloaking magic.”

A murmur of unease swept through the room. Isaac and Ryan exchanged a glance, their usual composed demeanor slipping just a tad. Henry picked up on it and held up a hand, bringing the room to a hush. The projection of the distortions on the screen, now with an explanation attached, seemed even more menacing. Henry nodded at Kelmithus, silently urging him to continue.

“In the lands of the Nobian Empire, there reside beasts called lurkers. They bear a talent to bend the very fabric of light around their form, rendering themselves nigh invisible to our sight.”

Henry recalled wildlife documentaries where animals like chameleons changed color to blend with their surroundings, but this seemed more advanced. “Bending light?” he interjected.

Kelmithus gave a solemn nod. “Indeed. Much akin to how this device,” he gestured to the infrared display, “reveals the warmth of beings, not unlike the manner of reptiles in this realm. ‘Tis whispered amongst our scholars that the Nobians, through ages of observance and study, might have gleaned secrets from these lurkers. With time and art, they might have harnessed such knowledge, fashioning spells to grant them comparable concealment.”

“So they learned from those lurkers,” Ron said.

Kelmithus replied, “It is only what we surmise. Our knowledge of the Nobians is scant at best. They have long shielded their intents, often rebuffing our overtures for peace and kinship. Yet, tales have trickled down – hints and whispers.”

Henry crossed his arms. They had such little information to work with. “How effective is their magic? Does it only bend the light?”

Kelmithus shook his head. “No, not merely so. It refracts it, disperses it. If wielded with mastery, it can render the caster near invisible, spanning diverse spectrums. Yet,” his finger gestured to the screen where the distortion ambled past the warm light, “it appears some among the Nobians lack finesse in all domains.”

Ryan smirked, “So most of them are more familiar with making themselves invisible to the human eye, but a handful screwed up when it came to infrared.”

“In essence, aye,” Kelmithus affirmed. “It appears this one erred in his art, neglecting to adjust when nearing the warm radiance. A fleeting misstep, but one that betrayed their presence.”

Henry breathed a sigh of relief. “At least we know Nobian magic is still fallible.”

Kelmithus nodded slowly, his eyes narrowing. “All forms of art have their frailties, even the sophisticated spells of the Nobians. Yet, we must remember that full reliance on your devices might lead to deception.”

Isaac tilted his head. “So you’re suggesting we can’t lean on our tech to spot these guys?”

The archmage turned to face him. “While your technologies are wonders in their own right, they might not always prevail against these arcane means. I would advise diversifying our approach.”

“What do you propose then?” Perry asked.

“Disrupting their illusions is of utmost importance,” Kelmithus explained. “Our knights and mages have honed particular counters to dispel such magics. If timed right, these could momentarily fracture their cloak, rendering it ineffective or, at the very least, weaken it.”

Ryan raised an eyebrow. “That sounds like a plan. So, we’ll work in tandem?”

“Aye,” the archmage confirmed, “your eyes, our magic.”

Henry rubbed his eyes, his mind running through the implications. “Let me get this straight,” he started, “You want to identify the intruders so you can cast your magic on them? How exactly will you disrupt their cloaking?”

Kelmithus swept his hand through the air, invoking a shimmer of translucent waves. “Consider their cloaking magic as a ceaseless endeavor to weave into the tapestry of their surroundings. Should they walk past a tree, they must meld with it. Should they walk through a crowd, they must meld with the many faces and fabrics that make up the crowd. Our counters are purposed to fray that delicate weave.”

“By flooding their sensory inputs,” Henry guessed.

Kelmithus nodded thoughtfully. “Precisely. We deluge them with potent, ever-shifting magical currents, creating a tumult their illusions struggle to mirror. Our casting shall be unpredictable, shifting faster than the Nobians can adapt.”

Ryan frowned. “But won’t that tip ‘em off? They don’t know that we can see ‘em. The moment they feel their cloak weakening, they’ll realize we’re onto ‘em.”

Henry tilted his head. Ryan was right, to an extent. “It might, but they probably won’t notice right away. We can bait them into wasting more of their energy and attention. We don’t need to unveil them right away, we can just tire them out. By the time they realize, it’ll be too late.”

“And once their guise falters, if even for a fleeting heartbeat, our knights shall spring forth. Their speed should make capture a trifling matter.”

“Might wanna knock ‘em out ASAP,” Ron commented. “We brought a few tasers along with us. Flashbangs too. We can toss them to give the knights an easier time.”

Ryan nodded. “Can’t get answers out of a corpse.”

Henry felt a shiver as he heard Ryan’s words, as if he spoke from first-hand experience. Knowing that Ryan and Isaac were dispatched from Langley, it didn’t surprise him, but it still sent a chill down his spine. This was a man truly not to be fucked with.

Perry seemed to be impacted a bit more by Ryan’s words. He held up his hands, “Woah, woah, let’s try not to end up with bodies here. Look, I get the stakes, and I know your team’s priority is to ensure our safety. But if there’s a chance, even a slim one, to detain one of these intruders peacefully… it could make a world of difference in understanding their intentions. Our actions tonight could dictate the trajectory of our future interactions with the Nobians.”

“I certainly agree, Ambassador, but no promises,” Ryan said.

As the words left his mouth, a new silent alarm popped up. Isaac glanced down at his screen and then looked up. “Kitchen adjacent to the grand hall,” he announced, his tone tight.

Henry’s pulse spiked slightly. The intruders were getting deeper into the mansion; it wouldn’t be long before they circled around and found the guest quarters upstairs. He gestured to Ron, Ryan, and Kelmithus. “Owens, on point. Hayes, rear. Archmage, you’re in the middle. Take two of your knights.”

Kelmithus assessed his knights, deciding who to bring along. “Hale, Wynt,” he nodded to two knights.

“Take up the flanks,” Henry said.

The two knights, both adorned in full plate armor, stepped forth and took their positions. Ryan adjusted the sling of his rifle, hand grazing an equipment pouch, while Ron gave Henry a brief acknowledging tilt of his head.

Satisfied with his squad, Henry turned back to Isaac. “Lemme know if another point gets tripped.”

After checking comms, Isaac nodded. “Understood, Captain.”

“Set up a QRF with Weaver and pair them with some of the knights,” Henry continued. He still didn’t know how many intruders were inside the mansion. Three squads, including his own, would have to manage. “I want 5 others with Weaver. Have them bring the mansion staff over here for safety. Once they’re back, have them prepped in case there are more alarms or if we need backup. Everyone else stays behind in the conference room to protect the Ambassador and his staff.”

“On it,” Isaac replied.

Henry gave a curt nod. “Good.” He turned to his squad, “Let’s get to the kitchen. Keep it tight and silent.” He felt confused by his own words, looking at the knights and their clinking armor. But as they left the conference room, he noticed that their movements emitted little sound. Magic, or training? He shelved the thought, focusing on the hallway ahead.

Drawing the goggles over his eyes, the HUD immediately lit up, presenting a crystal-clear display. The shadows that previously veiled objects and corners were pushed back, the outlines of his teammates and surroundings highlighted in a subtle glow. Small blue icons floated above Ron and Ryan.

“Manual tagging,” Henry muttered as he tapped a button on the side of his goggles.

A soft chime acknowledged his command. Focusing his gaze on the knights Hale and Wynt, he quickly spoke, “Tag as friendly.”

Two new icons settled above the knights, joining the others. He then swiftly glanced at Kelmithus, who was already marked with a distinct circular icon – different from the blue diamonds over everyone else – that hinted at his magical prowess.

Ron, just up ahead of Henry, signaled the all-clear as they approached the doors to the grand hall. Henry’s earpiece crackled to life, Isaac’s voice coming through. “Grand hall’s showing clear on cams, no visible threats. Proceed with caution.”

“Copy, Yen. Going in.” With that assurance, he signaled Ron to take point with the knights. He glanced at Hale, then pointed it as his large shield. The knight nodded, lifting it high in preparation. They positioned themselves on the left side of the door while Ryan, Wynt, and Kelmithus positioned themselves on the right side of the door.

After a tap on the shoulder, Hale moved forward. The two knights stepped into the grand hall and immediately veered to their respective sides to clear the corners, shields providing an effective barrier. Henry raised his rifle, swiftly moving behind Ron and Hale. Infrared lasers swept across the room as his squad cleared it. Scanning, he found nothing but polished furniture and dimly flickering lights. Looking through the thermal view on his goggles, he found no distortions at all.

Having cleared the entrance to the grand hall, the knights adjusted their shields and pushed toward a side door that led into the kitchen. “Stack up,” Henry murmured, indicating the kitchen’s entrance.

Repeating their breaching process, they swept the kitchen. The room was vast, the central magic stove casting an eerie glow. The immediate silence was disrupted only by the subtle clink of equipment and the subdued footfalls of the squad.

Ron, after sweeping the left, signaled an ‘all clear’. Ryan, having done the same on the right, mirrored the gesture. Henry’s gaze was drawn to the stove, curiosity piqued. But as he studied the strange device, a ripple caught his eye. The colors on his goggles seemed to shift hues ever so slightly before disappearing into the background.

“Kitchen’s clear,” Ron whispered, but the tone of his voice held a question. It was the inflection Henry had come to recognize – the one that meant, Do you see what I see?

He merely nodded and adjusted the grip on his gun. A thought flashed across his mind. If the cloaking relied on manipulating light, could a focused beam disrupt it further? Without making it too obvious, he adjusted his rifle’s angle, letting the laser on it sweep past the stove, almost as if he were scanning the general surroundings.

The reaction was near-instantaneous. Where the laser touched, the air quivered and revealed a faint thermal distortion. For a split second, the Nobian intruder’s outline sharpened, the laser’s concentrated beam throwing the cloaking magic off balance. It was as if the laser’s intense, singular beam was too precise and concentrated for the magic to refract seamlessly. Henry kept his face impassive, hiding his realization.

Instead, he turned to Ron, using his eyes to indicate the position of the hidden figure. He then turned, his back facing the stove, and pointed at a bag of flour then subtly thumbed over his shoulder. Ron caught his eye movement and followed the subtle direction, giving a minute nod in response.

Henry motioned for Ryan to move around to the far pantry, marking a point on his visor. Ryan nodded, hand brushing his equipment pouch as he moved discreetly, acting as if he were inspecting the surroundings. As he walked to the designated point, Henry turned to the Sonarans. He pointed to them, then to himself: follow me.

Taking cover behind a shelf out of the Nobian’s line of sight, he used swift gestures to demonstrate the necessary precautions to take against a flashbang. He pointed to his mouth, opening it slightly, then gestured for the Sonarans to do the same. The Sonarans watched, concentrating as they tried to grasp the significance of these unfamiliar gestures. Thankfully, Kelmithus was quick to catch on, imitating Henry’s movements.

Looking at the knights, Henry pointed to Kelmithus and himself. The knights realized his message, nodding and following suit. He gave them a thumbs up and a nod, internally relieved. He then signaled for them to stay put and keep low, holding a closed fist in the air.

A subtle click resonated from the far pantry – the sound of a safety pin being pulled. It was followed by the faint sound of metal skidding across the floor, and then a deafening pop that filled the kitchen. “AGGH!” the intruder screamed, groaning in pain.

“Go! Go!” Henry dropped his fist, reaching for a taser. As he turned the corner past the shelf, he saw Ron tossing a bag of flour over a clearer distortion that was visibly fumbling over the countertops. The fine white particles settled in the air and clung to the hidden Nobian, revealing a humanoid silhouette.

Henry lunged forward, taser in hand. The electrified prongs found their mark on the man, sending jolts through his form. The intruder convulsed for a brief second, his magical cloak flickering off, before collapsing to the ground. Almost immediately, Hale and Wynt sprinted forward. They threw themselves onto the Nobian intruder, pinning him firmly. Kelmithus then manipulated the stone floor, shifting it to wrap around the intruder’s limbs.

Ron and Ryan stepped forward, guns pointed at the man on the floor. “Shit,” Ron remarked, “can’t believe that actually did the trick.”

Ryan moved swiftly, kneeling beside the unconscious Nobian and beginning a careful but efficient search of the man’s person. “Wish I had this shit in Tehran,” Ryan muttered.

Henry knelt down to help him out. His fingers brushed against the cold metal of a blade, hidden seamlessly within the folds of the operative’s clothing. Extracting it and setting it aside, Henry’s brow furrowed at the unfamiliar alloy it was composed of and the intricate symbols engraved on its hilt.

Ryan, observing the blade, commented with a half-whistle, “That’s no souvenir shop find.”

Henry nodded, looking up to Kelmithus. “Anything we should be worried about here?”

The archmage picked up the blade and inspected the symbols. “The blade bears enchantments to enhance its durability. Moreover, it can serve as a conduit for weaving spells. Yet, fear not, it holds no snares or timed spells, if such are your concerns.”

Henry’s attention turned to Ryan’s voice. “Mana crystal,” he said, giving the object to Kelmithus for study.

“A crystal of lesser quality, nearing depletion,” he commented. “The fractures indicate a hasty rate of mana consumption.”

As Ryan pulled another set of blades hidden in the Nobian’s boots, Henry felt the contours of a pendant around the man’s neck. Removing it, he handed it to Kelmithus. “An artifact?”

“Indeed. Within, it houses a crystal of greater refinement, albeit this too is spent. I surmise its use was to bolster the art of concealment, but further study is required for a fuller understanding.”

Next, Henry produced a sealed vial, its contents a shimmering blue liquid.

“A basic mana potion,” Wynt offered.

Henry nodded, pocketing it. Dr. Lamarr and Dr. Perdue would certainly love to take a look at the substance. He finally reached the last of the man’s pockets, retrieving a small, tightly rolled scroll and a quill. At a glance, it looked like any other piece of parchment, but given the context, it could be something more significant.

Ron leaned in, “Orders?”

“Could be,” Henry murmured, unfurling the scroll. It revealed writing, but none that Henry could understand. He turned to Kelmithus, offering him the scroll. “Does the translation magic not work for writing?”

He took the scroll, analyzing its contents. “Aye, it does. The Circle of Understanding works for both spoken word and scripture. The ones that I and my mages applied covered only the Sonaran tongue and Eanish common. However, I can bestow upon you knowledge of other languages I am versed in.”

“Yeah, please do,” Henry said.

“Very well.” The archmage summoned a handful of magic circles under Henry, Ron, and Ryan. Electricity once more crawled along Henry’s skin. As the circles faded, Kelmithus returned the scroll to Henry.

This time, the words seemed to click in his mind, rearranging to English. He read the contents of the scroll aloud, “‘Unknown faction, large metal carriages stationed near entrance, likely same ones encountered during our ambush.’”

Henry paused, looking up, then doing a double take on that line. It didn’t change; it was definitive proof that the Nobians had something to do with the ambush.

“The fuck?” Ryan took the words right out of his mouth. “So these are the fuckers behind that…”

Kelmithus shrugged, a gesture he had learned from the Americans. “It would seem my suspicions held true.” He glanced at Henry. “Please, continue.”

“‘No riders atop. Emit strange humming sound. Unknown purpose, likely some sort of siege mechanism.

“Strange warriors, not of Sonaran or known lands. Dark and sleek armor, unlike metal or leather. Movements suggest elite training. Faces shielded with glass that glows faintly. Wield not swords, but elongated instruments. Likely same tools identified during the ambush that shot thunder without incantation. Not crossbow. Something more potent.

“Frequently converse with Sonaran archmage of high standing. Possible alliance? The archmage wears regalia – likely identified as Kelmithus of house Helis. Accompanied by two Sonaran knights. Possible threat to the Empire.

“Strange boxes and panes affixed to their armor. One of the panes can emit light, like a scrying mirror.’ And it looks like he drew some sketches of what he saw.”

“Damn,” Ron muttered after Henry finished, “Sounds like we made quite the impression.”

Henry nodded, considering the implications of the scroll. They had just been given a glimpse into how alien their presence must seem in this world. And this agent had taken note of everything.

“It’s more intel for them on us than vice versa,” Ryan said. “We should get back to base.”

Henry concurred with a silent nod, stowing the scroll away. As he did so, a crackle in his earpiece broke the momentary silence. Isaac’s voice came through. “Sitrep?”

Henry replied, “One hostile detained. Searching for intel. What’s your position?”

“Another alarm, staff quarters. They’re on the move. Count two tango oscar mike en route to quarters.”

“Copy.” Henry’s mind raced – this complicated their situation. “Status on Weaver?”

Isaac answered Henry’s concern, “They brought back the mansion staff. Safe and sound here. The quarters are a ghost town now.”

“Solid copy.” Henry’s response was crisp, but his mind was already turning over the logistics of an evacuation. “We need to consider pulling back to Armstrong. The mansion is compromised.”

Isaac responded, “Understood. I’ll brief Perry. Are we calling it?”

“Yeah, notify Armstrong. Secure the Ambassador, start prep for evac. I’m heading to the staff quarters first, but have transport on standby.”

“Roger that.”

Henry turned to Kelmithus. “The Nobian – can you keep him under?”

The archmage gave a nod. With a few whispered incantations, he hovered his hands over the still figure’s face, palms glowing as he cast his spell. “He shall remain in slumber for another three hours.”

“Hayes, Wynt, secure the Nobian in the conference room. Once you’re done, meet us at the entrance to the staff quarters.”

The two men nodded, grabbing the intruder by the arms as they began to drag him out of the kitchen.

“Owens, Hale – on me. Archmage, stay in the middle. We’re heading to the staff quarters.”

Ron and Hale fell into step beside him. They left the kitchen, moving slightly ahead of Ryan and Wynt. They transitioned from the grand hall to the mansion’s entrance, carefully navigating up the stairs to the left until they found themselves at the entrance to the staff quarters.

“Weaver’s status?” Henry asked.

“En route,” Isaac responded. “Should be coming from the guest quarters in a few seconds.”

“Copy.” Henry’s hand went up, and they paused outside the entrance. The doors were opened – the Nobians didn’t even bother to close them; they knew they were exposed and had little time to escape. But if escape were so important, why detour to the bedrooms? They had to be searching for more intel. He could only hope that Rolan’s staff didn’t leave behind any significant information on the delegation.

The seconds ticked by quickly, Weaver’s squad approaching with the soft shuffle of equipment. “Hallway’s clear,” Henry announced. “Let’s sweep.”

The knights in Weaver’s squad joined Hale in the vanguard, moving forward with their shields raised. Henry’s eyes swept the hallway – a narrow artery of stone and shadows – as Weaver’s squad fell in behind Hale and advanced. As they approached the first bedroom door, he caught the eye of a knight from Weaver’s squad and jerked his head toward the hallway. Without a word, the knight and two others peeled off, guarding the others while they stacked up on either side of the bedroom door.

“On my go,” Henry whispered.

The knights acknowledged. One to the left, another to the right, they braced. Henry counted down with his fingers. Three… two… one… and the knights breached. The door, barely resisting, swung open to reveal the dim interior of the staff bedroom. The team flowed in behind the shields, swiftly checking the corners of the room. Kelmithus moved in, shifting mana in the room randomly as he raised and lowered the temperature.

A dresser drawer was ajar, its contents spilled like an afterthought. He swept his gun’s laser over the room – no thermal distortions. Henry’s hand went to the open window, the night breeze cooling the room. He leaned out to check; no activity in the courtyard.

“Clear,” Ron’s voice was low but certain. No intruders, just the whisper of what was left behind – or the aftermath of the hasty evacuation led by Weaver.

Henry stepped back, his glance meeting Weaver’s. “Next room.”

They withdrew as one, the knights backing out last, shields still guarding the space they vacated. The men in the hallway held their positions, shifting forward as Henry’s team stacked by the second door. They repeated the clearing procedure – entry, sweep, cast, clear. He saw nothing but the residue of hurried departure.

Then, as they regrouped, a sound – a soft creak of wood – echoed down the hall. They turned as one, just in time to see a door swing open. A subtle distortion entered the room, fainter than the cloak of the Nobian captured in the kitchen.

An operative’s voice cut through the earpiece, “Contact!”

Henry’s hand shot up, a silent command halting any forward motion. The operative’s report of movement hung in the air, a taunt that tempted a rash response. But Henry’s mind worked the angles, his focus narrowing. He knew better than to chase shadows – not until every corner had been checked, every potential threat accounted for.

“Maintain position,” he ordered. “Confirm all rooms are secure. We’re not splitting up or getting drawn out.”

Room by room, they swept through the remaining spaces, each clearing yielding nothing but the echo of absence. Hayes and Wynt returned, helping secure the last rooms. With the hallway now under their control, Henry gathered his original squad. “You’re with me. If this is a feint, we don’t bite hard.”

He continued, turning to face Weaver’s squad, “Weaver, hold here. Secure the area and keep comms clear. Anything moves, let us know ASAP.”

Henry’s squad formed up, Hale and Wynt with shields up front. The narrow corridor stretched out before them, magical light casting shadows on the carpet. They crept forward, Henry’s eyes scanning the surroundings for any sign of thermal distortion. A sudden scuff from the open window to his left drew his attention, but there was nothing outside – a simple trick of the acoustics, or perhaps a deliberate distraction. They moved on.

They reached the door, the threshold where the distortion had last been seen. The room was dark – not a major concern for his goggles, but he could only imagine how the knights must’ve felt pushing into a pitch-black death trap like this. Once more, they stacked up against the door and cleared the room. The room was as empty and messy as the others – items from drawers and closets strewn about and an opened window.

“Clear,” Henry announced, finding no distortions. The quiet was deceptive. All this build-up – would it be for nothing? He walked up to the open window and looked out again. His eyes scanned the grounds beyond, searching for any disturbance in the landscape.

“There, garden beside the entrance, about 100 meters out,” his voice was barely audible as he gestured towards a line of shrubbery that swayed unnaturally as if someone brushed past it. “Looks like they’re retreating.”

Wynt’s armor clanked subtly to his left as he approached the window. “Shall we pursue, Captain?”

Henry simulated the scenarios. Pursuing now could lead them into a trap, or worse, away from the heart of the matter back inside the mansion. There was no good reason to pursue, and he doubted they could find the cloaked intruders easily in the dark expanse of the early morning. “We circle back,” he decided. “Cordon and secure. Regroup and prep for immediate exfil.”

They withdrew from the window, retracing their steps. The team reversed out of the staff quarters, making their way back to the conference room without incident. Henry’s mind was already turning over the necessary steps for evacuation as they entered the conference room. Inside, the captive from the kitchen lay bound and still unconscious on the floor. A few operatives worked on clearing out the myriad of electronics as Dr. Anderson stowed a group of scrolls and books into his bag – texts on Nobian society.

Isaac waved as Henry’s team entered. “Captain, Armstrong confirms our evac – ETA on escort, 5 mikes.”

“Roger that. Owens, prep our exfil. I want the MRAPs warm and ready ASAP,” Henry ordered. While Ron and a few other drivers darted away, Henry turned to Ryan, “Hayes, take point on the prisoner transfer.”

Acknowledging the order, Hayes maneuvered towards the inert form of the Nobian, calling over Wynt to help drag the man out. As they did so, Rolan walked up to Henry, presenting a deep bow. “Pray, forgive us for failing to prevent this incursion. I have notified the knight garrison of your evacuation via aethergraph. They shall assist your convoy to the city limits. If there is anything else you require of us, do not hesitate to say the word.”

Henry half-expected the man to initiate a cliched apologetic ramble in an attempt to save the face of Duke Vancor. Instead, the butler’s response was direct, efficient, and above all, without bullshit. Henry appreciated that. “Good work. For now, help us pack our stuff.”

“At once, Captain.”

Wrapping up the evacuation procedures, a thought struck his mind. He frowned out of concern, approaching Perry. “Ambassador, did you manage to reschedule the talks?”

Perry nodded – a sight that granted Henry a sliver of relief. “Yeah,” he answered, “Talks are deferred to next week. I’m hoping to relocate talks to Armstrong or Groom Lake as well.”

“And the Duke?” Henry probed further, tone anticipatory. If Duke Vancor agreed to relocate to Armstrong or Groom Lake, security would be a whole lot easier.

“Kelmithus will keep our dialogue with Rolan – and through him, the Duke – ongoing via aethergraph.” Perry gestured toward the Archmage, who stood conversing with his knights. “We’ll know in a few hours at the earliest – or whenever the Duke wakes up.”

Henry looked to the side, glancing at Kelmithus and his knights. “A week, huh? Will the delays impact our current agreements?”

Perry followed Henry’s gaze. “No. The Archmage and his men will continue to work with us, so we’ll be able to continue gathering data and maintain their magical and tactical expertise – one less thing to worry about, given the Nobians’ newfound interest in our affairs.”

That was a relief. The Nobians already gave them enough trouble snooping around for intel. “Good. Unexpected lessons in Nobian tactics should be a one-and-done. Everything’s green on your end for exfil?”

Perry double-checked his bags, ensuring all his diplomatic paperwork was secured. “Yes, all set here. Just making sure nothing… sensitive gets left behind.”

Henry shifted his focus, conducting a thorough final sweep of the room and his quarters. His eyes scanned methodically, searching for any misplaced equipment. The SOP was clear – leave no trace – and he intended to follow it to the letter. He grabbed the toothbrush and other toiletries from the restroom, stowing them in a bag. Not the most sensitive, but he understood Perry’s and Anderson’s concerns about cultural contamination.

“Zulu-9, status report,” he called into his radio.

“Area sanitized, sir. All personal effects accounted for and gear recovered,” one of his men answered.

“Copy that. Confirm with team leads, we’re leaving now,” Henry responded. He glanced around once more before approaching the stairway overlooking the main entrance. Perry was already there, leaning over the rails. The delegation’s personnel streamed out the front door, maids and butlers helping carry some of the bags.

“A shame we couldn’t get to stay,” Perry sighed.

Henry could imagine the man’s disappointment – historic first contact, stunted by the wanton aggression of an unknown party. “A shame indeed,” Henry agreed. “Let’s go.”

They descended the staircase, noticing Rolan waiting for them at the bottom. The distinguished attendant stepped forward as they reached the last step. “Ambassador, Captain, it has been both duty and honor to attend to your needs within these walls,” he said. “I hope that our endeavors have risen to meet the unforeseen nature of your stay here.”

Perry extended his hand, a mutual respect reflected in his firm handshake. “You’ve gone above and beyond, Rolan. We won’t forget the hospitality we’ve been shown, nor the cooperation.”

Rolan nodded, his face as unreadable as ever. Henry couldn’t say for certain, but he could sense the man’s relief. For all he knew, he could’ve been legally executed in this country for such an oversight. “The roads may be fraught with the perils of not only beasts but also with the whims of those who may seek to waylay your convoy. May your passage to your base be swift and blessed by the light of Sola.”

With a final nod, Henry and Perry joined the delegation’s controlled exodus, exiting the mansion. Outside, the morning light began to paint the world in hues of gold and amber, not unlike the sunrises of Earth. The knights of the local garrison, now serving as the advance guard, had already begun clearing a path. Henry stepped out onto the mansion’s porch, squinting slightly as his eyes adjusted. He saw the knights in formation, their glinting armor a stark contrast to the gear of his own men.

“Weaver, confirm our lead with the garrison. I want eyes on for advance sweep,” he ordered, watching as Weaver nodded and relayed instructions.

Perry joined him, the straps of his bag gripped tightly in his hand. “Think the Nobians are still in the city?” he asked.

Henry opened the door to his MRAP, taking a seat beside Ron. “Doubt it, but I can’t say for sure.”

“Man, I just hope we don’t get off on the wrong foot,” Perry rubbed his face as he sulked back in his seat.

Ron rolled the car forward, leading the rest of the convoy out of the mansion’s driveway. “Might be too late for that,” he said.

Though Henry shared Perry’s optimism, he knew that Ron’s answer was the most probable. If the Nobians were interested in discourse, they wouldn’t have infiltrated the mansion – no cultural excuse could possibly cover for this, and even Dr. Anderson agreed.

As the walls of the city faded behind them, he picked up his radio. “Armstrong, this is Pioneer lead. We have exited Eldralore. We are oscar mike, over.”