~1022 Hours Military Time

For the moment everything was quiet with the exception of the Jaguars above. The small crowd eventually parts, revealing a delegation consisting of the General and his escorts.

"Desert—Four. Contacts approaching," Robert announces over comms.

"Spike—one. We've got them locked," the Jaguar pilot answers.

'This is it,' I muse, as the armoured group slowly advances.

They stood in place after stopping a reasonable distance away. Cooper and his volunteers rush ahead, filing out of the defensive circle. Richard soon follows through, pacing hesitantly at the rear. After thumping himself in the chest, he catches up with the delegation just in time to conduct what is likely the most important part of this whole mission.

First impressions mean everything. It definitely applies here, but to a much greater degree. Keeping the firm observation along the crowd, I note the presence of a few individuals that likely served in roles that are decidedly more domestic in nature.

If nothing else, it meant a good portion of the crowd was not an immediate threat.

Cooper went straight to introductions as Richard offered rough translations in what I assumed to be an approximation of their language. The words were smooth but carried hesitance. It still is incredible to believe he knew how to speak even after receiving the context.

His unexpected understanding is the latest in my list of things that fell out of the realm of possibilities.

Cutting through the anxious moment, Robert breaks the stalemate with a brief interjection over the shared channel, "Spike—One, Desert—Four. Front looks stable. Liaison team's engaged without problems, you guys can turn back." He looks up to the Jaguars still positioned above.

"Negative, we've still got three—zero mikes to bingo over," the Jaguar Pilot indicates.

"Save the gas, logistics will appreciate that. We'll handle the rest," Robert presses on.

After a few minutes, the same voice returns over comms, "Spike—One to all units, disregard our last. We're peeling off, Southeast bound. Golf Lima, out."

The Banshees move into a much tighter orbit after the Jaguars left. Their engines carried on stubbornly for another minute before falling out of earshot entirely. From here on out, we are on our own.

Turning back to face the Valor and her crew, I glide a hand up to the knob near my left cheek. A brief glance at the current frequency displayed on the visor's bottom left shows I am still on the shared channel.

I thumb the knob and speak, "Keep the Valor spooled just in case."

"We know," one of the pilots answers, "still got our hands on flight control."

One of Cooper's aids turns around, raising a hand at the large structure. After a moment of deliberation, he speaks, "We'll be escorted into that big castle, further dialogue will happen inside."

Douglas taps me on the shoulder, emulating a twisting motion at the knob on his helmet. Getting a quick read on his intentions, I join him on the fireteam's isolated channel.

"I'm in, what is it?" I look at him through the peripheral.

"We can't guarantee their safety if we go inside that place," Douglas remarks. "It'll be hard to react against possible threats in close quarters."

"Same thought here," I echo his sentiment, glaring at the delegation. "I swear they're intentionally making this harder for us."

"So we ignore it or what?"

I shake my head, "We can't, not until they give us a better reason to. Anyone of us can exercise that right, but I prefer we don't. Let the civvies do their job, we do ours."

Douglas relents with a sigh, "That's what I'm worried about, giving them the lead. I've still got safety off—just in case."

After exchanging a few more words, we both jump back to the local channel. Robert and James perk up as we hop back to the frequency.

Gabriel's voice springs up shortly after we rejoin the channel. "Looks like we're really doing this. Simmons, we're standing by to move out with the delegation," he says.

"Gotcha," I acknowledge, turning around to see the Lieutenant reforming his eight men team to a loose wedge.

The entirety of Fireteam Chevron breaks off, heading towards the delegation. Douglas and I move to compensate—filing in the gap on the other side of the Valor. Across the still active rotor wing, there was more of the locals filling the alcove. They stared from a distance, perhaps registering us as outsiders with little reason to be here.

Most of their looks can be summarized in two words. Bewildered—and cautious. Together they made for an unmistakable expression, one that was easy to recognize even in the heated moment.

Cooper and his entourage were still locked in discussions with the general and his escorts as I waited with a knee planted down. The latter bickered with one another, occasionally sending a reply which is then translated by Richard. Despite being in the presence of his former captives, the man remained composed and professional.

'He's tougher than he looks,' I muse, staring at the researcher's back.

I use the lull to further orientate myself on the surroundings. Much of it was beautiful—almost breathtaking. The sea of flowers rose and fell in soft waves beneath the winds, bordered only by smooth marble-like paths that glimmered beneath the sun's ire.

They weaved around the large alcove, forking to alternate lanes and large ornate stairways. Some of the stairs curled up to large platforms where a doomed roof was perched. Their bright golden frames were held by imposing columns, chiseled with the markings of symbols and figures alike.

Closer on the left, a firm rush of water cascades down from a large central fountain—spilling over to the catchment beneath. Petals and leaves floated within its gilded rim, lightly skimming across the active waters in slow—measured stalks.

The entire scene almost takes me by the horns. It was difficult to focus on security when all around me sat wonder and amazement. These people built to impress—and impress they definitely did.

Douglas abruptly aligns his weapon to the side, voice alert on comms, "Heads up—got three approaching the delegation. All female coming in from my right. They've got something in their hands, can't tell what."

"Visual, "Chevron's team leader affirms, "we'll keep them under watch."

I frown and shake away the admiration. "Consider them as possible threats, be ready just in case," I interject.

"Roger," James responds first under a flat tone. Douglas and Robert affirm similarly, keeping communications strictly on the side of relevance.

The soft flowing silks of the three women held my suspicions as they traverse across the garden, hands clasped in front of them. Thin white veils hid their features from sight as I watched. From the side, their slim physique is made even more apparent.

They slowly open their palms, head maintaining a constant lock on the ground as they bound towards the general's position.

"They're cleared," Gabriel announces, "don't know what's the occasion, but they brought necklaces."

"It's... more like a pendant actually," a voice corrects on his behalf.

I suppress a smirk, letting that unexpected quip run its course. Gabriel and his fireteam often had the habit of skirting around radio etiquette.

This little quirk is no detriment by any means so I hold back on a retort. Each fireteam has its own flair and method of operation. Theirs is no exception.

After a bout of gentle words from the general, the females walk up to the delegation. Fireteam Chevron stays in place around their flanks, four on each side to form two smaller wedges that pronged inwards. They muttered a few observations as the women neared, keeping a tight band on their every course of action.

Their slow—meticulous pace only enhances the subtle curvature of their figures. The subservient manners and meek demeanor draws my attention to the more feminine aspects of their anatomy.

White hair fell behind timid shoulders, flowing like the thin silks they all wore. Below their obvious curves sat smooth legs that occasionally peeked from under a frivolous skirt. There was no point in further resistance.

I knew right then and there they had my interest. This was a fight no man is meant to win. If the others had similar conclusions, they kept it hidden.

"No eyes on weapons chief," another operative announces over shared comms, sending Gabriel his observation. Judging from the lighter spring in that voice, it was Fred.

The Lieutenant responds in kind, "Noted, but keep watch on the others. Safeties off at first sign of trouble."

The three women issued a bow in unison as they held their arms out, offering the pendants to Cooper and his associates. After recovering, one of them gestures at Cooper with an unexpected proposal.

Raising both her arms, she carries the pendant over the man's head. The shocked and rigid expression would have bordered on comical if not for the present situation.

"What's that for?" Robert comments with slight tilt.

"Something about language," Gabriel answers with an equally confused tone. "I don't know."

Taking a brief moment to consider my choices, I decide to stand up. "This is Simmons, I'm heading towards the liaison team," I announce on comms.

"What, why?" Douglas asks, still observing his sector of fire.

"Don't like being in the dark," I reply, "hold the fort. I'll be back as soon as I'm done."

Taking tentative steps ahead, I push through the initial hesitance and break into a firm trot. Cooper spares me a glance as I come up behind his team. The woman responsible for the pendant hanging on his chest shies away, casting a bashful glint through her delicate veil.

Her eyes spoke of unsaid questions, desperate for answers that I knew were only natural. She stands back in line with her colleagues, resting her clasped hands at the front—the sleeves gently brushing against her slender figure.

I turn to our acting translator. "What's the deal with that?" I say, articulating my confusion to the german national.

Richard shrugs, shooting a brief glance at the veiled women. "Try not to think I'm crazy. And keep an open mind," he says.

I nod, rolling my eyes for added effect. "It's been nothing but nonsense since we crossed over. I can handle whatever you'll throw at me," I reply, urging him to answer the query.

He points to the pendant resting on Cooper's neck. "According to the locals, that's an artifact that will allow him to talk directly to them. No need for a middle man. It's a bit like the smart nodes you'd find on the ears of officials during state visits," he explains.

"Uh—wait," I pause, wrapping my head around this newfound information, "wait what?"

Looking back at Richard, I piece together his words again. It sounded just as ridiculous as the first time. I observe him for a moment, attempting to find anything that indicated the reply was a joke.

Richard voices his observations, "I don't blame you for that reaction. We'll see if it actually works, look." He points to Cooper as he cradles the foreign ornament in a palm.

Cooper mutters a string of words, the sound barely registering on the helmet's sensors. The white diamond shaped pendant flares up initially to a brilliant yellow before dying down to its original colour.

"I don't like this," Gabriel remarks over comms, "alright safeties off."

A serious of clicks resound as the eight men team readied their weapons. Some of the operatives gaze back at the commotion before turning back to guard their respective sector of fire.

"Can... you understand me?" Cooper announces as he approaches the general and his men.

They nod and begin speaking at a brisk pace, Cooper keeping up with the tempo as the two sides engage in further dialogue. The representative converses in English with a slight hint of his native accent while the locals did the same in their own language.

"It's your turn," Richard comments, interjecting my thoughts, "they have more of those things."

"I don't really need it," I wave the offer off with a frown. "Look, I'm just here to make sure you guys don't get killed."

Undeterred, Richard presses on. "They insisted on it, the General specifically."

"On what basis?" I argue, "seems a little out of place."

He gestures at the man with a subtle tilt. "It's something to do with their obligatory respect for those in leadership positions. That's roughly the gist. Sorry, some words don't exactly translate well."

I sigh, forgoing the snub. "Still doesn't make sense, but fine."

Gabriel turns around after noting a presence behind him. His broad frame and tall stature dwarfs the smaller women by a large margin as he peers down. She offers him a pendant of similar design, raising it up with quacking arms.

He snatches it from her fingers with a swipe and shoves the ornament into a pouch. "Don't particularly trust these guys yet," the operative mutters over comms.

Following the same procedure, the final member steps up to me with her own proposition. She laces her fingers through the chains, offering to place it over my head. While her offer certainly seemed innocent, it did not sit well with me to accept any assistance for such a simple act.

I gently take the pendant from her hands, briefly making contact with her nimble fingers. They felt small and vulnerable, exactly how I expected them to be.

I guide the chains down the helmet with a free hand, sliding it down to the base of my neck. "Now what?" I ask the girl, only for her to tilt her head in unbridled uncertainty.

The first glint of emotion registers on her face as she looks up with something other than apathy and reservation. Through her veil, she stares back with a light flush to her pale complexion.

A few words break through her parted lips as she points to the pendant with an insistent finger. Without any existing knowledge on their language, her response is next to useless.

Noticing my confusion, Richard cuts in. "Focus purely on your intentions. Then think of nothing else. It's all on you."

I dump everything else and focus on the advice. The only thing I need is an effective means of communication.

That notion quickly festers into an urgent desire and soon, the white pendant resting on my chest begins to glow, reaching a bright yellow. The visor immediately adjusts to compensate for the sudden flash before resuming normal operations.

Concluding the blinding affair, I address the woman again with a simple opener. "Can you... understand this?" I say, lifting my skepticism.

"The veil is lifted," she whispers back, locking her gaze onto me. Her voice was still smooth and edged with soft vowels. She was speaking her language. It was alien and consisted of words that sounded graceful. Somehow they carried meaning and context even though it shouldn't—as though I was already fluent.

Her eyes perk up as she offers more of her thoughts—voice hushed but inquisitive. "I know not your allegiance, nor your intentions. But pray I will that you and your underlings may find refuge in our eastern bastion."

I take a step back to regain some personal space. "Noted. Uh—thanks," I say, as the others watch the odd spectacle.

"What exactly is this?" I raise the pendant up, looking at its ambient glow.

"Seal of understanding, it is enchanted with harmonic energy. Fashioned only by our finest Jewel-Meisters," the young woman replies. She steps away after receiving a prompt from the general.

"Some of you now wield the power to commune with us, let us not waste anymore time," he declares in a heated tone, sending Gabriel a brief glare in light of his refusal. It was subtle, but obvious to the trained eye.

He swiftly turns on his heels, motioning for the delegation to follow his lead into the large castle. "That's our cue," Cooper remarks as he follows the entourage, his two associates trailing behind.

Gabriel leads his team ahead, keeping the two wedges intact as they journeyed alongside the liaison team. They proceed into its massive entrance, and after a quick turn on a corridor, they are out of my sight.

"God speed to them," I whisper, tracing my steps back to the Valor. Douglas turns to send a brief look as I return to overlook my sector of fire. Our objective is clear and simple, nothing like our counterparts now inside the imposing structure that seemed more like a sprawling fortress than just a castle.

After a few minutes, comms lights up. "So, anything new?" James signals with a curious tone.

I frown, craning down to the ornament resting on my chest. "Just this dumb, magical pendant... thing."

A grunt registers over the channel as James replies. "Heard what it does over comms, it actually work?"

"Somehow, yeah," I say before the conversation strikes me as irrelevant, "In the meantime keep the hatch down, I'll go into detail when we're done here."

"Roger." After conceding to my point, James drops off the grid.

The Valor's engines drones across the garden as we defended her from all directions. The commotion caused by our arrival slowly weans off and I spot a few civilian types leaving through the forking paths.

Their soldiers remained on site, and many more continue to stream in by the minute until the count reaches an alarming forty seven. With the addition of Banshees circling above, we are at a severe disadvantage.

The soldiers camped at a respectable distance, brandishing weapons that are ornate as they are lethal.

"Don't like our chances," Robert issues the grim statement with a sour tone, "got thirty plus on the Valor's right."

"High forties here," Douglas reports likewise, registering the heated tension.

I snap to a surge of movement, feeling the jitters crawling through my fingers as the state of our defense comes into question. The soldiers shuffled in silence, moving to fully surround us. None of their civilians remained. It is just us, and them.

===Thellius' POV==

"By the grace of her light, you have sailed into needless danger," I face the strange Emissary and his men, "Our enemies are poised to attack our city when the sun is at zenith. And yet here you stand, seeking answers that even the peasantry would be privy to."

The dark haired stranger nods, spouting yet more of his musings under the chime of his Pendant. "Like I said, we're not from this land. There is a lot we could learn from each other."

"What happened a few days ago was a tragedy," he gestures to the weary man beside him, once a victim of our misguided wrath. The encampment housing our fated meeting is now but distant memory, likely serving the pragmatic needs of the very invaders who now sought to lay waste to one of the Kingdom's oldest cities.

"They died from a simple misunderstanding," the former prisoner muses, one whose name I have yet to glean, "I can't forgive your soldiers for what they did, but I am willing to move past it. I'll take my chances here if it means I can prevent a repeat of that day."

The statement, although soured by their peculiar manner of word speak garners my respect. Those who see the worth of actions beyond their privy is always one I will look upon with favor.

I usher a nod in light of his noble soul. "I shall see to it that you have your chance," I say.

The gilded halls offered passing intrigue as we journey further into the palace. Our incessant footsteps patter against ancient marble as lanterns hanged above, the fires within lashing eagerly with a pleasant glimmer. 

The guards lead on beneath their warm regards, stopping only at the foundations of a stairwell that led up to the sacred realm above. Few are given blessings to enter the Royal Chambers, and fewer still could do so at their own whims.

"While I see it fit to answer your questions, I must attend to her royal highness first," I say, sparing the Emissary a brief look. "Wait for my return. My guards shall keep watch, though I am certain your warriors will more than suffice."

"Lord General, how will you wish us to answer should they sunder your trust," a guard whispers as I close upon the steps.

"Leave no survivors," I answer in kind, lips graced with a frown. "But I pray they hold honor in their hearts."

Their soldiers are silent, only speaking in the rarest of occasions. If they are wise as they are reserved, than my fears are unfounded. They hardly seem brash, holding themselves to finer standards in affairs beyond just battle.

My ponderous thoughts sail with me as I ascend up the steps. Linen silks fell upon wooden rails, flaunting the proud emblem of Royalty around marble and stone. The stairs spun around the walls, coiled like the vicious serpents of legends past and present. At the top lay the beginnings of the realm were few have seen.

Etched with the finest of gold and crystals, the large door opens inwards upon my arrival. Ancient mechanisms groaned as they toiled with cogs and springs. It was built with techniques that we have lost the theory for, stemming from a time when Nul'ma shadowed these lands through iron and might.

The grand designs that lay beyond beckons me, and so I saunter through yet another reminder of that once great empire of antiquity. Princess Luculia's chambers lay across the secluded hallway, guarded by men of utmost virtue.

The Pal'dorian guards welcome my presence with the clank of weapons. "Be at ease, I wish only to speak to her royal highness, Princess Luculia."

The loyal guard to the left answers, helm shrouding all but his eyes. "We heed you, esteemed Lord General. But Princess Luculia has insisted that she be given much needed privacy."

A mild frown graces my lips but I decide to press on. Like her mother, she is stubborn to the fault. "At a time when Yhunia is set to strike? I see no wisdom in that."

I continue on, addressing the men as Lord General. "Nonetheless, she has her duties to fulfill. Foreign emissaries from lands yet known are present, and as Regent of this palace they require her blessings to begin talks. If nothing else, it would be wise for her to leave this abode should the worst come to shore."

"As you decree, Lord General." The two guards step away from the smaller door, relenting their oaths with a hint of hesitation.

This act of seclusion is quite uncharacteristic of Princess Luculia. On a pleasant day she would bestow her presence upon the many districts of Drossal, enthralled in endeavors quite ill-fitting of her royal stature.

She often indulges in kind acts, healing the old, forgotten, and sick in the city's mending wards, treating them as beloved kin. The princess carries herself as a fine prodigy of life mending magic, even though she is but a lady at a measured age of nineteen starwheels.

Now those days belong to the past, from a time when our affairs with Yhunia were only of minor skirmishes and quarrels between merchant guilds. The borders were tense, but it was preferable to war. 

The trade of coin and ores is gone, now it is blood and lives we sought instead.

======

I set foot into Princess Luculia's massive abode. The sun shimmers through tinted glass, painting the room a vibrant blue. Statues and ornaments to the Herald rest alongside intricate glassware atop an old shelf—priceless as the items it stowed if the inscriptions are to be believed.

Her meagre form lies hidden in the shadows, finding refuge beyond the light of day. I stand before the large bed, waiting for the young Princess to offer her regards.

She trails her legs over the edge, parting the curtains that enclosed her bed from above. She looks up, features soured by displeasure, and hair splayed around furrowed brows.

I begin with a firm tone, "I see the war still lingers in your thoughts, heavy like a crown's burden."

"Since birth I have been sheltered from whisperings of the vile and more. Even now, news of the war reaches my wanting ears, coated with falsehoods," the princess mutters bitterly.

Snapping her resentful eyes from me, she muses on. "I have yet to bear witness the effects of war upon the Kingdom in person. The murdered, bereaved, and displaced. Of entire towns and villages defiled and set ablaze. I know things I shouldn't."

I release a hefty sigh, removing my helmet. Her knowledge of the decadent quirks of war surely stems from that personal adjutant of hers. "You need not harbour such unsavory knowledge. But I respect your willingness to share in their suffering, however pointless it is."

The Princess stands up, still clad in her nightgown. "Our claims on the eastern scrublands are... frail at best. Perhaps Yhunia's attacks are merely a dagger, poised only to scare us," she abruptly declares.

Her unforeseen remark garners my intrigue. "A bold statement for one who has yet seen battle. What has led you to surmise this," I query, stepping aside as the Princess wanders to her dressing chambers.

"They are simply securing the three great rivers, nothing more. Had they dearly sought only destruction and suffering, Zun'Virai and Nulam would have fallen," she answers, shoulders baring as her gown slithers off unblemished skin.

"Lord General," the Princess says with a sharp glare—eyes defensive and honed, "if you please."

I turn around, sentenced to stare at the intricate patterns etched upon the walls. Her modesty and honor is one I will happily uphold. "As you wish, esteemed Princess," I say.

Her words hold depth. Yhunian Tacticians could have condemned those two lesser cities to flames and anguish if they truly sought conquest. Their armies fielded beasts of burden that made travel swift amongst the woods, often striking with the odds always in their favor. Our enemies are versed in the affairs of war, more so than us.

"Your awareness exceeds that of some of my underlings," I pause upon the muse, "In another fate, perhaps you would be destined to be Lord General."

The Princess returns my regards with a warm laugh. "I owe such wisdom to Myandra. Though I could speak endlessly of her dearest endeavors, I know your presence here is born of urgent matters is it not?" she inquires.

"That it is," I reply, eager to have her unbridled attention, "we have foreign... emissaries awaiting your blessings. They are kin of those who my scouts have chanced upon days ago."

"You sound uncertain," her soft voice deepens to a thoughtful trance, "also... you may turn around now."

"As you wish," I follow her decree, facing the Princess in her usual garb of a white flowing corset. She steps out with poise and grace, silver crown cresting her head—the very image of her mother.

"Their emissary seeks the simple lores of our lands. One would think they hail from shores yet known to even our most fervent explorers."

"How intriguing," she murmurs. "Surely they jest. I have read the reports you have graciously sent me. Why would they journey here, having already lost four of their kin to our own."

I stop at the door, raising a hand to offer a knock against the crafted wood. Her footfalls echo behind as light streams in from the grand halls. The guards offer their blessings to the young Princess as she weaves past them, firm with both demeanor and intentions.

"On my right as Regent of this palace, take me to these guests," she announces, "And send for my retainers and servants, I shall need their assistance in our endeavors ahead."

I nod, guiding her to the stairwell. "It shall be done." The two guards rally behind, trailing her visage with the heavy clank of armored footsteps, ready to act upon her every will.

========

From : Cygnus Station Administrative

To : United Nations Joint Mission Analysis Centre

Subject : Cygnus Station Status Report #17

1) As of April 7th 2046, scientific expeditions into New Eden have resumed following loss of Expedition 6.

To alleviate concerns of future expedition losses to unprovoked attacks by native humanoids, two additional UNSOG units have been allocated to full-time deployment.

Units in question are as follows,

Chevron,
-Unit size : Eight operatives
-Fireteam Leader = 1st Lieutenant Gabriel Brown, operation code Charlie 01-23958002 Delta. Notable background details, Former Australian SAS.

Angel,
-Unit size : Four operatives
-Fireteam leader = 2nd Lieutenant Narkis Hadar, operation code Alpha 01-22044925 Sierra. Notable background details, Former Israeli Yamam.

2) Senior UN diplomat Daniel Cooper and his aids have arrived safety on site and is currently on board a modified Bell V-280 Valor with two UNSOG Fireteams acting as their security detail. Official first contact with humanoid faction code-named Alpha possibly has been made by the time of this message.

These natives exhibit Albino-like traits, white hair, fair skin etc. It is currently unclear if these traits are representative of Faction Alpha's entire population, but images taken by drones and battle footage from Fireteam Desert's hostile skirmish does not indicate otherwise.

3) New Eden Base code-named Tartarus is fully repaired from assault by humanoid soldiers of Faction Beta, it is still unclear how they managed to evade perimeter sensors, will update on next report if relevant details are uncovered.

The three surviving hostiles are under full time lockdown, they are however treated fairly in accordance with International Humanitarian Law.

The exact motive of the assault is yet to be determined, a more in-depth analysis on Faction Beta's language will be required in order to facilitate a successful interrogation.

5) Current military strength of 46 soldiers deemed possibly insufficient for security purposes by the end of April if operations in New Eden continue to grow at current pace.

6) Lastly, a list of the newest described Fauna and Flora species has been attached to this message.

................................................................................................................

===End===

We lay new constructions on top of old and think it ours. 

We were children, rising beneath an empire's shadow. 

Nul'ma's fall from grace marked our beginnings, and ushered forth the first notions of Euralian statehood.