12. Chapter 11: Important matters

CHAPTER 11: IMPORTANT MATTERS

Two days after crossing the Gate.

Velgard woke up and immediately looked at his surroundings. He was lying on a bed, alone in a white cloth tent. The last thing he remembered was crossing the Gate back to Falmart, then he had passed out from exhaustion just as a patrol of imperial wyvern riders had spotted them.

"You shouldn't move, barghest."

A human woman approached. She seemed pretty enough by human standards with long blond hair and a cute face, and wore a pure white dress with a blue symbol of La, the goddess of learning at the front. The dress had some blood stains on it.

"You're lucky you're still alive. You had a fractured arm, multiple burns and some strange wounds I had never seen before. I found at least three or four metallic pieces in your body, and the wound they came through was pretty big."

Inspecting his body, Velgard was forced to admit that if that woman was the one who healed him, she had done a pretty good job. As the herborist/apothecary of the team he formed with Ygar and Olva, he had some knowledge of the healing arts. The bandages smelled of curing herbs, were clean and were perfectly tied, not too loose but not too tight either. There were some on his chest, on his face covering his torn off ear and a splinter held in place his broken left arm. And he could also smell purifying incense in the air. Truly, the people here knew how to heal properly.

"Guess I should thank you, Lady. Where am I?" He groaned.

"You're in the tent of the Sisterhood of Clear Water. We're all La and Elange worshippers, although we're usually stationed near Rondel. Most of us were born in the city but didn't have magical talents. I was-"

Velgard cut her. She seemingly liked to hear herself talk.

"The point, please."

She cleared her throat.

"You're in the camp of Emperor Molt. We sisters of Clear Water have been hired by Molt to heal his men in exchange for funds for our monastery. From what the soldiers who brought you here told us, they found you just outside the Gate. There was another imperial with you, a centurion. He was a little less harmed but he's still unconscious."

"No one else came? Only the two of us?"

"I'm afraid so…"

Silence fell in the tent. So they didn't make it… Velgard was a mercenary. Dealing with death was his work. He knew the risks as well, each battle was potentially a deadly one. One could stack the odds with himself by getting better equipment, employing particular strategies and overpowering the opponent. But ultimately, the result of a battle laid within Emroy's will. Velgard, Olva, Ygar and probably every person who made soldiering his work knew this, and getting ready for it. As a famous line by Rory Mercury said: "In order to have a good death, you must have a good life.".Of course, the meaning of "having a good life" was subjective, and ultimately only the Reaper herself knew Emroy's truth.Velgard liked to think that Ygar and Olva would join Emroy's pantheon as great warriors, but it was hard to judge. They did save many villages of monster threats and saved merchants from bandit attacks, but they had also joined armies who pillaged villages and cities on their way to feed the bottomless pit that is an army's stomach. And lastly, their last act of killing a family, city guards and shamelessly running away was far from brave or honoring.

"Leave, woman… I lost a battle brother and a dear friend, I need to be alone…"

Velgard wasn't one for emotions, but it was true. Olva was a human woman he distrusted at first, but she proved herself surprisingly open and didn't show the usual scorn humans show to other races. She had gained a special place in his heart. Were it not for his "particular" anatomy he would have gladly bedded her. And Ygar was his battle brother. They had sworn in front of Emroy to fight together until the end, and had survived many battles for years together.

And Velgard had ran away. He needed to protect Gelt and couldn't hold one of the metal plates they had used as shields with the bags so he went first with the imperial, but still. He had left his brother behind.

He turned his sadness into anger, directed mostly at himself but also at the green soldiers who had shot Ygar and Olva. He had no realistic way to reach them, but he promised himself he would find a way to atone. Meanwhile, his face contorted into an angry grin and his good hand's fist curled into a ball.

But the woman didn't leave. She just stood there with an uncomfortable expression on her face.

"Actually, I can't. Molt has ordered that as soon as you wake up you have to go report to him. The centurion that came with you should be waking up soon too. Just wait here a few minutes while we go fetch your bags."

She left the tent a few seconds, then came back. An awkward silence settled as both avoided one another's gaze. In order to avoid thinking about his recent loss, he addressed her in a mocking tone.

"I noticed you don't seem to appreciate the Emperor? Aren't humans bound by law to say "emperor Molt" at least when talking about him?"

Her face turned into an uneasy expression.

"We Sisters of Clear Water seek nothing more than knowledge in the art of healing, and spread of said knowledge. And I mean physical healing, not magical. Mages will always babble about how healing magic is so superior, but not everyone has access to magic. Even in our order, only our canoness, her palatine and one or two higher sisters have the gift of magic. The palatine is kind of her aide, you could say. She's the one that accelerated your healing as well as the imperial's. Without her, you would have to stay in bed for at least a week or two more…"

She noticed Velgard's glare, and cleared her throat before going back to the point.

"We seek the art of healing so less suffering comes upon this world. We work closely with the orders worshipping Miritta, Warehun and Zufmuut to that end. The thing is, we depend upon charity to fund everything we need. And since the Emperor is our most important supporter, we are effectively bound to his will. He treats us as healers for his troops, and nothing more. He doesn't care about our sacred mission or our wishes. So we are forced to attend to his campaigns, mere witnesses of the very thing we seek to avoid…"

He knew what she was talking about. Being forced to do things one didn't like, but had to because of their duty… Did he really have to stab this kid back on the other world? Ygar was the leader of the team, but ultimately Gelt was sent with them by the Emperor himself so they acted accordingly to what he wanted. Velgard wasn't one to enjoy killing pups, be it human, barghest, siren or any other race. And the one he stabbed really didn't deserve this…

As he was lost in thought, another human woman entered the tent. This one was older, and her dress more elaborate with a blue iconography of Elange. Her hair was hidden by a light blue hood lined in gold, and her waist a small wooden wand was held in place by a blue cloth belt.

"Flavia, what are you waiting for? Get this beastman up."

The previous nurse who he just learned was named Flavia perked up.

"Yes, sister palatine! I'll get the crutches!"

She left in a hurry, then came back with a pair of crutches for Velgard. With her help, he used them to follow the Palatine out of the tent, towards the wherever the Emperor himself was.

"So you're telling me we face a country which has more soldiers than the Empire could ever raise, has weapons that can kill anyone from an incredible range and has logistics advanced enough to feed an entire city that has probably more inhabitants than Sadera and is so large you could never reach or even see its limits?"

"I'm afraid so, my Emperor." Answered Gelt.

Emperor Molt furrowed his brows and scratched his chin, thoughtful.

With the help of the Sisters of Clear Water, Velgard had crossed the sea of tents composing the Emperor's army, followed by two imperial soldiers who had the task of hauling all the bags they brought back. In total, it was six bags. Four travelling backpacks they had brought with them originally, and two backpacks from the other world. Each one of them was filled with items and contraptions from the other world. Two praetorian guards had let them inside the crimson tent, and two more guarded the Emperor as well as young boy who probably was a squire and a court wizard.

It took them more than one hour to finish telling what they had learned about the new world. Mid-story, he had been considerate enough to order the boy a glass of wine for Gelt. Not for Velgard though, who simply stayed silent at Gelt's side and only talked when Gelt forgot something or wasn't precise enough.

Molt pointed at one of the items they had presented on a white cloth on the ground in front of the Emperor, and the young squire immediately picked it up and presented it to him.

The emperor took the small flat black brick and couldn't help but open his eyes slightly wider than usual when it lit up at the mere touch. There were glowing characters he couldn't read on the front, and when he pressed a finger on it, it moved. He presented it to the court wizard at his side.

"Does this truly holds no magic whatsoever?"

The mage closed his eyes and passed his hand over the item, then opened them back up.

"None, your highness. And it doesn't seem to be a living creature either."

That much was obvious, so Molt sighed and gave back the item to the squire who put it on a nearby table (Thinking no one would pay attention to him, the boy marveled for a few seconds at how the things on the brick moved when he touched it before coming back at the Emperor's side).

"You said the weapons they used didn't go through your wyvern scale armor, centurion?"

"That is correct, your highness." Answered Gelt. "Although I have to say that it damaged it badly, and should I have been shot one more time, I would have been severely wounded."

In term of armor quality, wyvern scales definitely were in the upper category. Iron and steel were the most common ones. Armors made of the hide of some tough beast weren't that uncommon either for rich mercenaries. Wyvern scales were extremely expensive, and crafting an armor out of them was even more expensive. Apparently, the one this centurion wore was a family heirloom, passed from generations to generations.

Wyvern scale armor was the toughest armor one man could realistically buy without selling an entire castle. There were tales of heroes covered head to toe in wyvern scales who fought off entire armies. The most common one was that of the personal guard of Molt's grandfather, during the arctic war. A large part of the imperial treasure had been used to equip the praetorian guards at that time with such armor, and the guard held a mountain pass for a whole day against barbarians that were ten times more numerous, before they succumbed to exhaustion. This act gave time for the remains of the army at that time to retreat to a more defensible position and wait for reinforcements. If anything, it told of the defensive properties of such equipment.

But the otherworlders had weapons that could break through with only one shot?

"You said you brought some of these weapons, right?"

"Yes, your highness. Here they are. We were told that they are called "rifles", although I don't know if the term refers to one type of weapon in particular or all of them. "

Gelt took out the weapons from one of the backpacks Velgard presented him. There was a long one which had two barrels at the front, and three much smaller ones which looked like a turned over "L". One of the three was very boxy, while the two others had some kind of cylinder in their construction. There were also some kinds of small red cylinders with a brass top which Velgard signified were ammunition for the longer weapon.

Molt waved his hand at one of the praetorian guards at his side.

"Yes, your highness?"

"Find two slaves, give armor to one of them and bring them to the training field. Tell the owners they'll be compensated later for the loss."

"Yes, your highness!"

The guard saluted and ran off immediately, while Molt pointed to the map that Gelt had showed him at first. He kept a neutral face, but on the inside he was boiling. Maps! One of the most important tools of war one could obtain!

"We were told that where the Gate opened is on this island." Said Gelt, showing a bright red dot on a small island. If such a small nation had such an army, then what of the other countries? The two biggest he could see (one that spanned the width of the entire continent just west of the island and one that took half of an entire continent on the west of the map) were probably the biggest threats. But if the nation of "Japan" was so small and had such an army, then what of these countries? Did their soldiers count up in the millions? Billions? And all of them with the gear described by Gelt?

"We also got a map of the city we found ourselves in." Said the centurion, showing another map. Molt studied it for a moment, before passing both maps to the court wizard at his side.

"Make sure these maps are copied at least ten times each."

The wizard nodded before stuffing the maps under his arms. The Emperor then raised from his chair and signaled to Gelt to get up as well.

"Well then, I want to see how these weapons work. Laelius?"

The young boy perked up and looked at the Emperor.

"Come to the training field with the weapons. Centurion Gelt will show us how effective they are. You are free to follow us, beastman."

Gelt saluted, while Velgard nodded politely and followed the procession outside.

The training field was currently being utilized by another centurion drilling his troops into precise formations, but as soon as the emperor showed up, he respectfully called off the drill and ordered his troops to make way.

Soon enough, the praetorian guard that had left the tent earlier came back with two slaves in chains. One of them was wearing an armor that had probably been a legionnaire's armor before, but it was rusted in some placed and the signs of intense usage made it useless on a proper battlefield. Velgard noticed that their eyes had been covered with a piece of white cloth. At least the praetorian had been kind enough to not let them see their impending doom. That said, they were still panicked and kept darting their heads around, trying to see past the cloth. The praetorian guard bound them to wooden poles that were usually used as target practice for archers and crossbowmen then came back to the emperor's side.

"Your highness, here they are. Thieves captured a month ago, they helped the cooks and attacked one of them, wounding him heavily. They were supposed to receive the death sentence tomorrow evening as a show to the other slaves."

"Well then," Answered Molt "They'll receive an early sentence. Centurion Gelt, if you will?"

Gelt fidgeted with the hunting rifle for a little while, not sure about how to handle it, until Velgard told him to treat it like a crossbow. Putting the stock against his shoulder and aiming down the two tubes, Gelt couldn't help but marvel at how simple the aiming system was, yet how effective. Aiming straight at the unarmored slave, he pulled the trigger.

The recoil completely surprised him as well as the sound, forcing him back a step and making him fall butt to the ground. The loud bang surprised the audience as well, including the Emperor, who watched the sky for any nearby thunderstorm.

Seeing as there was none, all focused on the slaves. The unarmored one was dead, there was no doubt about it. His left breast had been turned into a bloody mess, and he didn't even get enough time to cry or shout in pain.

Putting his feet into a more stable position, Gelt then sported the rifle to the second slave who was now bawling, begging for mercy. However, when he pulled the trigger this time there was no sound but a loud "click". Confused for a few moments, he looked at the weapon before Velgard came close with a few red cylinders in hand. Both tried to move everything that could be moved on the rifle for a few minutes, until they managed to understand the reloading process. Fortunately, the weapon was extremely simple to use. Gelt then shot the second slave.

The armor was totally useless. Even on the rust-less parts, the projectiles fired by the rifle had completely broken through the metal like hot knife through butter.

Molt observed the result with an inquisitive stare.

"I need to think. You there, beastman, you're free to go. My squire will give you your reward later. Centurion Gelt, come with me, I have a special task for you."

And with the bearing of someone who knew he would be obeyed, the Emperor made his way back to his tent.

Back in the tent, Molt was back on his chair while Gelt was kneeling in front of him. All the items they had brought from the other world had been put away.

"Centurion Gelt, you did your task admirably. As your Emperor, it pleases me to know there are people like you under my service."

With his head still down, Gelt couldn't help but smile. A praise from the Emperor himself! Not a lot of people could boast about that!

"I have a task for an outstanding soldier like you. You will be my counsellor on every matter that concerns the Gate and the Other world. For now, court wizard, take him with you. He'll explain to you the best he can about all of these items."

"Of course, your highness!" almost shouted Gelt. Counsellor of the emperor! Finally, the occasion he had waited for so long had come! He had literally jumped from being a nobody to one of the emperor's closest! With an almost child-like joy, he left the tent after properly saluting the emperor.

Meanwhile, the Emperor asked for a glass of wine as he thought on how to deal with the Gate and the nation beyond. Emperor Molt Sol Augustus may be a known as a reckless man, but the true persona behind the crown was far smarter and scheming than he showed.

He clearly couldn't take on the nation of Japan. Be it on the sheer number of soldiers, technological level or just logistics, he was beaten on every field. An assault would only result in a crippling loss for the Empire, while only causing minor damage to the nation of Japan. Even more, it would leave him defenseless against the allied nations.

At least, that's what would happen in the current situation.

With a grin, he called his squire.

"Laelius, bring me a lectern and my writing material. I have a lot of letters to write. Call general Maximus as well."

Molt spent a short time discussing with general Maximus, the second in command of the whole Gate matter, Molt himself being the first in command of course. Then, he spent the next hours writing letters.

The imperial army would leave the ground near the Gate next morning.

Hello there, author here.

I'd like to start by thanking everyone who still supports me, and writes it in the comments. It means a lot to me that not everything is criticism.

Now, to adress the elephant in the room:Yes, some of the things I write don't make sense, realistically speaking. But I'd like to remind something: I'm the first (as far as I know) in this fanfic section who writes about a being from Falmart successfully sneaking past modern means of defense and monitoring. Do you know how hard it is to write without any reference or previous point of view? And I don't want to dumb it down to "well they used magic to sneak past since our world doesn't know magic.".

Now, I may be wrong, and there may be previous stories who wrote about a fantasy being sneaking successfully in a modern society he knows nothing about without abusing magic. If such a story exists and if one of you happen to know about it, please tell the name in the comments because I'd gladly read it.

Of course I give my characters plot armour because they realistically wouldn't be able to. I'd like to point out that I try to pinpoint those "plot armour" to precise moments instead of spreading it to all of the story.

Unfortunately I don't have time to answer to reviews today, so I'll answer by PMs tomorrow.

Sorry for this outburst, but I had to say it.

Thanks for the support, and see you next week!