Eodem: A Rifle And Sword Adventure 32 Chapter 32: Playhards Part 2

"What the h.e.l.l is going on?" Bobby interrogated Kayin and Diaz.

"Nothing." Diaz said.

"Nothing? Are you deaf Diaz? I am hearing boo's and cusses from the crowd. Look!" Bobby pointed out.

They were indeed jeering at Diaz for his inaction. It was already 3 hours into the Ras Ceffylau Traws-Duchy and the racers except the Mustang were long off the start already hitting their first checkpoints. They were exhausting an aura of absolute disappointment after all of Vinny's boasting of his steed having 'the power of Seven-hundred Horses'.

"Liar!"

"Is this the Otherworlder's best? Pathetic!"

"Charlatan!"

"All talk no might!" the crowds jeered.

For the Earthlings on the other hand it was perhaps the laziest brunch in all of time. Diaz had down as Bobby can observe 3 cups of 3-in-1 instant coffee, 4 eggs worth of sunny side up eggs, 12 strips of cured ham and 2 bundles of grapes. Kayin wasn't at his usual studious self and was also sharing along the excessive ration they had.

"Diaz, I don't care if doing this doesn't feel 'rewarding' and all but you are making me look bad right now." Bobby argued.

"Look, the Race is about 12 hours long at the minimum according to what we heard. I can afford a head start. Let them have their fun." Diaz dismissed.

The crowd became more restless and they began to start tossing whatever refuse they could grab towards the Otherworlders such as pre-masticated sc.r.a.ps, dirt, rocks and even a large splinter of wood.

"Get out of here you poltroon!" one of them said.

"What's a poltroon?" Diaz asked.

"It's another way of saying 'chicken' Vinny." Kayin bluntly said.

"Chicken!?!" Diaz grinded his teeth at that insult.

Just then one of the sc.r.a.ps of food, a pre masticated piece of fruit with a fragile exterior landed on the Bonnet of Diaz's Mustang. It's emerald and pulpy contents desecrated the waxy l.u.s.ter Diaz had worked so hard to remove the dirt stains from the time he played bait for some Land Sharks.

"My Mustang!" Diaz cried. He rose from his chair and rushed towards his car towel at hand.

Bobby and Kayin followed behind him as Diaz frantically sterilized the fruity stains on its wake. His pride and joy that he helped built from the frame up thanks to Aparo's 'Cla.s.sical Revival' campaign of fitting in old but timeless Car Models with new technologies to adapt to the modern roads and needs of the roadster today. He got one of these models for free after spending 5 years of excellent services to Don Aparo and his organization. He designed everything himself from the motor specifications, the red paint with the running horse Decals and even the ornamental pearly white Manual Clutch Stick.

"Are you going to let them just do that to you and your car Vinny?" Bobby challenged.

Vinny was now seething with rage and internal belittlement. His sense of feeling victorious was overridden by his fear of the perception of weakness. It was an encompa.s.sing anger, that, after he finished removing the stains from his hood, he turned to Kayin.

"Get your Drone." He said. It wasn't his usual Devil-may-care accent he was known having, but instead devoid of humor.

He was being serious right now.

"Boss, you got a Hanky? Get ready to set me off." Diaz turned to Bobby.

They both nodded. Kayin ran back to his computer set up behind the stables and readied his drone's engines. Meanwhile Robert Bianchin walked towards the raucous causing crowd and put on his most poised stance. He was honestly scared that he might get his clothes violated by whatever the onlookers could throw at him but he needed to salvage this for his paycheck's sake.

"Ladies and Gentlemen, People of Gliesia of all races, colors and creeds, the Aparo Corporation… which means a really big Merchant Guild would like to apologize for the…'technical difficulties' you have seen." Bobby addressed the crowd.

The crowd was still jeering at him but thankfully nothing was being thrown at him at the moment so the Aparo Corpo have to wrap this up fast before it gets worst.

"As my a.s.sociate Vincent Diaz has said that yes, his Steed has the power of seven hundred horses and he would gladly show you how we, the United Federation of Earth have the best horses in all of Gliesia. The pinnacle of Earthling Technology! Observe!" Bobby said.

He walked back to the car where Diaz had just finished starting up the Engines of his Mustang alongside Kayin's little recon drone hovering above him. Bobby pulled out his hanky and looked towards Diaz.

'Dare Runner' pulled down all of the windows of his car before he turned on the music player of his car via a Bluetooth function to his Smartphone's collection of music fondly dubbed 'Epic Racing Tunes'. He then turned to Bobby and gave him a smile with a thumbs up. Diaz is ready.

"Time to end these Horsies whole career." He said as he grasped the Mustang's steering wheel tightly.

"Ready…" Bobby began to countdown.

The Mustang began to roar to life as the jeering crowd became silenced as they held their breath.

"Get set…" Bobby continued.

Loud music began to play from Diaz's Mustang. To the astonishment of the crowds, they didn't know that his steed can also sing and play music, specifically what they could discern the sound of a lute and a drum.

"GO!" Bobby swiped down his handkerchief.

With a great burst of zero to sixty agility, the Mustang launched off creating a choking cloud of dust that impaired the eyes and expelled the air out of several of the people's lungs out.

As the dust Clear, they saw the lazy steed was no longer sitting idly before the finishing line but instead was galloping at what the natives saw at an incalculable speed.

"By the G.o.ds! No horse can run that fast!" one of them said.

For Diaz however, the top speed of his Mustang being a 150 miles per hour whilst the entire race distance was over 160 miles in total. The map is an entire encircling of the Duchy's land across hills, fields and a few forested areas, terrain that Diaz is familiar in navigating efficiently in for all of his times smuggling high value contraband with his Mustang. The only challenge is to not accidentally run over any of the poor sods who raced with their mortal mounts for pragmatic and aesthetic reasons. Although he did want to take a photo of that Elf Knight's big b.u.t.t before he made them bite his dust.

"Okay Diaz, you got some stragglers right now slow it down a bit." Kayin warned.

Three horses Diaz saw walking idly by, perhaps they were conserving their energy or they got of the wrong footing as the Dare Runner thinks. After he sped pa.s.s them 3 horses and their riders were toppled over not out of any physical force but in terror over the roar of Diaz's engines.

"Well… its only illegal if you touch them." Kayin remarked.

As Diaz sped through the race track, words began to spread around the festival attendees of the strange horse that glided through the earth with the speed of the birds, the grace of a dancing nymph and the endurance of a Minotaur. Whenever Diaz pa.s.sed by a Checkpoint, the Race Officials didn't have the time to blink once before Diaz sped through.

Within no time, the farming fields and rolling hills transitioned to the hard rock of the crudely paved hill pa.s.ses of Souviel that separates the Duchy from the Wilds east of them. To most horses this was the most difficult part of the race and several horse feeders were on standby near the Checkpoints providing hay and water for the rest of the journey. When Diaz pa.s.sed by one, in a haughty display of his skill, he would drift around them in a circle, his engines and wheels roaring loudly terrifying the horses and their riders.

"I ain't slow! I just really need my breakfast." Diaz teased.

"Impossible? No Steed can run that fast without magic!" a Race Official commented.

"Are you sure he is not under the effects of the spell 'Longstrider'?" one of the riders asked.

"Absolutely no trace!" the Race Official alarmingly said.

The riders seeing the threat to their racing positions ran back to their steeds and giddyap'd.

"Hey watch out for the descent Diaz, slow it down." Kayin said.

Perhaps the most dangerous part of the race as Diaz can attest is the descent down the mountain through a winding path. There were no safety rails and if the fall wouldn't kill someone physically, the prospect of being overtaken by a more alpine-footed steed would kill any chances of getting the victory. There were a few people who are now winding down the snake like pa.s.s as carefully as they could but for Diaz this was another display of his driving skills.

He shifted to lower Gear, then floored the brakes and prepared to make several hard turns. The resulting friction of his tailormade and grooved tires made him glide effortlessly on every turn gracefully with cutthroat split timing.

"Just like New Torino!" Diaz smiled.

"Wow! That's actually pretty impressive… but I am still not letting you drive the Land Cruiser again." Kayin radioed.

After descending down to the mountain pa.s.s Diaz was now behind the top leaders of the race and low and behold, he saw Eriande with her Gh'da horse in its immaculate silver skin.

"You! How did you get here so quickly?" the Elven Knight angrily asked.

"I smuggle s.h.i.t like you are a.s.s for years!" Diaz answered.

His Mustang began to meet the same speed as the Elven horse not out of any mechanical error but out of a spiteful display of haughty behavior by Diaz. The Corpo pulled out the camera of his Smart phone and began to record the Elven Rider.

"You got a great thick b.u.t.t by the way. It's going on Instagram and you ain't stopping my Mustang for s.h.i.t!" Diaz cracked a smile before speeding off.

"Oh no you don't." The Elven rider said as she raised her hand in gesture.

It was signal for Sefyliad agent Waltorin to activate the trap. A Runic Trap, designed specifically for Demons and Monsters. It had to be made quickly for the Silver and powdered Mana crystal compound that is the component for such a spell take a while to actually form a Rune large enough for something the size of the Mustang to make. It was also quite expensive to have such a compound to begin with thanks to the aforementioned materials being hard to come by.

"Take this Demon Sc.u.m!" Waltorin cursed before running away to hide.

But as Diaz sped pa.s.s the Rune, the delay between activation and detonation was milliseconds too long for the blast to even touch Mustang, nevermind that Holy Magic to much their foolish chagrin won't affect them anyway.

"Whoa!" Diaz looked back from behind him to see the magic. "Did you see that?"

"I did Vinny. Oh yeah, you should be in the lead now and the rest of the run is just some straight pa.s.ses and a few turns around the farms before returning to New Souviel." Kayin said.

"Good, get yourself over there if I were you. Your gonna see Gliesia's first Car Meet." Diaz smiled as he sped off.

The forests below the mountains now transitioned again to the farming fields of Souviel's rich bread and wine culture. Diaz can also see the favors and décor of the Chwartiadd festival again. He had to take care of slowing down to make the Racing Officials record his pa.s.sing so he can still remain within the bounds of the rules. He even made sure to emphasize his cars non-magical nature of his steed to hammer down the fact that he is indeed not cheating… at least via Magical aids.

To the Natives, the sight of his steed was terrifying and awe inspiring to behold, its roar complemented by the way its wheeled feet pa.s.sed through the dirt like the gust of air it leaves on its wake. Within no time, he had cleared 28 out of the 29 Checkpoints he needed to pa.s.s before the home stretch.

As Diaz made it around the corner leading to the Duke's Palace, he was astonished to see that the road that was meant to be opened is being used as pedestrian way for festival on lookers. The Race Official in charge of the last checkpoint between him and victory.  It was the last turn before it is a beeline for the finish line as Diaz remembered in the map.

"Diaz! Watch out! The road!" Kayin suddenly roared on his radio.

"s.h.i.t!" Diaz cussed as he blared his horn and slammed his breaks.

The people seeing the runaway horse charging at them began to scramble away with a shocked race official nearly losing his balance.

Diaz had to sway the weight of his car back and forth to maintain the slowing speed while also his momentum. As he the skin of his car's teeth met the corner, Diaz turned to his left as hard as he could, drifting perfectly by the pedestrians who were in awe by the horse's vigor and ultimately unharmed.

"Dude! Pls tell me you saw that." Diaz said.

"I saw that too. d.a.m.n that was close." Kayin said.

"Did you get that on picture? That's what some people call 'the Tokyo Drift'. Diaz smiled.

He sped off, now seeing the fairy-tale spires that adorned the Duke's Palace. Pa.s.sing through the gate and cutting through the finish line where the workers were still trying to attach the finish ribbon onto the posts.

After the confusion of the loud roar and the torrent of wind pa.s.s by, to their absolute shock of both the guards, the attendees, the Sovieli n.o.ble Court and a few foreign dignitaries, they saw Diaz and his steed 'the Mustang' standing in front of them. Its engines were like the exhaustive panting of breath as Diaz turned off the engine of his car and walked out from the driver seat and slid his body by the hood and windshield and lay down his body lazily behind his hands.

"What is this?" the Herald of the Games emerged.

"I finished your race in under an hour." Diaz smiled.

"Impossible! No horse can run that fast! You must be cheating." The Herald disputed.

"I don't think so. I checked his steed and there are no traces of Magic in any inch of its body." A mage argued.

"He also made it pa.s.s through all the Checkpoints! The Judges there sent out their Tweeter Bird messages to me just this instant." Huffed another racing official.

The Herald couldn't believe, even the onlookers too. This horse tore through one of the most prestigious horse racing events in all of Gliesia like if it wasn't anything. The exasperated look on his colleagues, men he trusted for decades saying the exact same words made the Herald realize that they speak the truth.

"The winner of the… Ras Ceffylau Traws-Duchy. Is… wait… I never got your name." the Herald was about to announce but inquired Diaz. To his fairness, he was a last-minute addition.

"Vincent Diaz but you can call me 'Dare Runner' and this Steed is called a 'Ford Mustang' one of the fastest horses where I come from." Diaz smiled.

Several light-footed and soft-faced maidens in flower crowns walked up to Diaz and gave Diaz a Victor's Laurels for both him and his Steed. They wore nothing else but the Virgin White robes that were draped over there skin.

"Your Boon milord." They said in unison.

"Hang on! Wait lemme take a selfie for the boys back home." Diaz smiled as he grabbed his phone and took a selfie photo with it.

"No… s.h.i.t… my Car is dirty… I need it cleaned." Diaz turned around.

"Only the finest waters for your n.o.ble steed O' brave sir." One of the flowery maidens said.

He can see the young women grab their sponges as they began to scrub the dirt stained surface of the Mustang.

The color of the water was golden, and there was sparkly look on its surface alongside a fermented fruity scent as Diaz caught on his sense.

"Are you bathing my Mustang… in Wine?" Diaz asked.

"Indeed O' brave champion. It is tradition that the winners' horse be bathed in the finest Targrosir wine in all of the land. You are also given a several bottles of Targrosir for your own drinking pleasure." The Maiden said.

She handed him with a lithe grace a basket filled with golden colored grapes and the Targrosir Wine bottles of at least 6 quant.i.ties. The girls smiled and bowed before the Corpo as they began to pamper Diaz's Mustang with buckets filled of the wine.

"You are quite handsome as we all do say so ourselves." The Maiden giggled alongside the others.

"Diaz! You did it!" Kayin smiled as he ran towards Diaz alongside Mr. Bianchin.

"Oh, you got some of that wine too. That's a regional specialty but its basically Champagne." Bobby added.

"Champagne eh?" Diaz turned back to the congratulatory maiden. "How much is this bottle worth?"

"Every bottle of Targrosir is worth a thousand Ducats milord. It is an honor to even just hold one bottle let alone drink from it as per tradition in Souviel." She replied.

"Perfect…This is how we do it back at Earth!" Diaz smiled coyly as he popped open the bottle, placed his thumb on the opened neck of the Fantastic Champagne and began to shake it.

"Don't do that! It will exp--" the Maiden tried to warn Diaz.

But Diaz immediately let go of his thumb forcefully ejecting the carbonated contents up in the air. Gravity did the rest of the job as it rained down to the ground, most of the wine landed on the Victory Maidens whose white robes became damp then translucent before clinging tightly on the maiden's bodily features.

"You are quite a feisty Prince, aren't you?" the Maiden commented.

"Hey, this actually work and I worked hard and I play harder now think fast!" Diaz flirted as he grabbed a bucket of wine and began to splash the Victory Maiden in its auric juices.

"Oh, Diaz always a charmer you are. I ain't letting you out shine me!" Bobby smiled and grabbed another bucket of wine and splashed Diaz with it in kind.

"That's a lot of money you are burning there. Let me join!" Kayin said as he joined in the fun.

For the rest of the afternoon, Diaz, Bobby and Kayin held Gliesia's first Car Meet and Wet T Shirt (or Robe) contest. There was laughter, music and a few carefully placed words by Bobby and some help with Kayin that molded the hearts and minds of the Natives to the UFE and their way of life and what they wish to be able to do more here in Gliesia. It was a most unexpected type of Party but thanks to some hosting skills by Robert Bianchin, they managed to integrate such a celebration for the Chwatiadd. Even the Herald of the Games wish to add such the blatant disregarding act of 'Targrosir Popping' to be a new tradition for Victors of future Ras Ceffylau Traws-Duchy.

When the rest of the contestants made it to the finish line, they were in awe by the deceptive power the Mustang had compared to their steeds. Many names were given to the UFE such as 'the Bardic Horse' when they heard the music emitting out of the Mustang's car. Then there was 'the Merchant of Kings' for Bobby, 'the Shadowy Man' for Kayin and 'Sun Nymph's getting wet' for the aforementioned Wet-Robe contest that Diaz created. But most especially from the enraged loss of words by Ladui Eriande calling Diaz a 'Horth-raug' or a 'Speed Demon' before storming of back to the Elven Emba.s.sy. Too bad for Diaz, he took it as a complement.

---------------

"I am telling you there might be something not right about those Elves." Crocker tried again to warn his team captain of his suspicions.

"That is because they are Magically Attuned, Greenblood. Our Mage will be mostly locked out for this one until we can get theirs first. We just need to wait for an opening then push, Elves are fragile when it comes to sheer brute force." The Captain said.

"Sir, I don't think the plan of running around their Fighters to attack the Elven mage will work… I suggest we try draw so---" Crocker tried to argued but he was shushed by the Captain.

"I am the leader of this band and you have to do what I say. The Duke told me. Now get out there and make me that Shield wall." The captain ordered.

Crocker reluctantly had to follow him. Deep down he knows that there might be something horribly wrong with these Elves but he needs to keep his toes in check. If worst case scenario comes, he will have Obediah and Clay to back him up, wherever they maybe in the crowd. He just needs to get through this final challenge and he can at last take a much-deserved round of beer. He rendezvouses with his teammates and formed the center of the mobile shield wall that united all of the Knights-Errant combined weight with his own.

Crocker peaked through the gaps of the shield wall to get a better look on the Elves. He saw them across the field standing stoically with their great swords, bows and spears. There gear was light with leather like coverings of hardened yet flexible tree bark covering their bodies with the armor being present at there forearms, chests, helmets and legs. They were like statues or a football's Defensive Wall standing side by side to each other staring at the approaching adversaries before them. What's interesting about these Ethuilen Elves is that only the Spearmen wielded enlarged kite shields whilst the rest had no other means of protection outside of their Tree Armor.

"Let the battle begin and may the best team win!" the Herald announced as he blew his horn commencing the Tourney's Finals.Find authorized novels in Webnovel，faster updates, better experience，Please click for visiting.

The Souvieli Knights slowly pushed forward immediately to pressure the central core of the Elven formation whilst the archers winged around their flanks looking to exploit any openings that the Elves might have in order to Goad them to direct their ire at them. As for the Mage on Crocker's team he is preparing to cast some sort of Ritual-like spell behind him and it was the priority that he is to be protected as long as possible before the real fight can begin.

Looking forwards, Crocker see that the Elves were now on the move, changing their formation. In response to the flanking fire of the Souvieli Archers, the shield-bearing Spearmen with lightning discipline formed a protective embrasure with their shields with the gaps where the Elven Archers can continue to fire unhindered while enjoying the protection of cover. This did decrease the frontal center of the Elves leaving only the great swords behind. At first, they continued to stand idly staring down at the Souvieli causing Crocker to be unnerved.

"Something is not right." Crocker told his teammates.

"They are going to start spinning." One of the Knights said beside him.

"Spinning?" Crocker questioned.

"Hie!" one of the Elves holding the great swords beckoned.

He and five other fellow Great Swords wielders gripped their swords and stepped forward with there left foot. Then with lethal grace began to swing their blades vertically with machine like efficiency. For Crocker it was similar to the way a wood chipper's blades awaiting the logs to be shredded to pieces.

And they were inching closer towards it.

"Now! Split!" ordered the Captain.

The Shield wall disbanded, liquifying the formation with the Souvieli Mage, with his spell prepared casting his hand to the ground causing the land beneath the Elves' feet to be liquified. It was some sort of spell that Crocker can discern that riles the ground to be turned into quicksand. The Elves were caught by the impeding terrain halting their slow advance yet their blades were continuing to spin.

"Now Archers!" the Captain roared.

The Archers redirected their fire at the vulnerable Elves hailing a torrent of arrows down on the Elves.

But as they fell on the ground in barrage after barrage, Crocker spotted something suspicious about the Elves.

There faces remained stoic despite the stressful ordeal for a start. Shouldn't they be panicking or at the very least alarmed by all of the arrows raining down on them?

He examined closer and realized that despite the heavy rainfall of arrows, not a single arrow became stuck to the Elves' armor, but instead somehow phased through them.

It was an Illusion!

"Hie!" a voice roared behind them.

The Elves on the Quicksand dissipated before it was revealed that the Elven Great Swords were in fact invisible for the entire time until now. They had been antic.i.p.ating that the Knights-Errants would scramble to avoid the superior technique of their little 'Thúl-Magol' or Whirlwind Blade Formation as their great swords can effortlessly hack through there tournament regulated shields.

"It's a trick!" the Captain warned before he was knocked down to the ground by one of the Elves.

The other Great Swordsmen wasted no time capitalizing on the shock. They swung their blades at the rhythm of the whistling winds as they cut down the exposed Knights-Errant of Souviel effortlessly. The Team's Archer and Mage too fared no better when the blunted arrows knocked them into the ground and thus kicking them out for the rest of the fight.

And thus, all that was left of the Souvieli team was Crocker who managed to slip away during the commotion.

"Oh me! Oh my! That must have been painful! Like a thorn to the heart, only more baneful." The Herald commented with his rhymes.

If this were a real battle it would have been a Ma.s.sacre of the highest degree. Though Crocker did have to give where credit is due to these Elves. Aliathra was indeed correct of how disciplined and how executive their battle-prowess and tactics were.

"Get the Demon!" one of the Elves yelled pointing at Crocker.

"Demon? Who me? What are you talking about?" Crocker denied.

"How dare you kidnap the Princess and try to seduce both Prince Clovich and Duke Thibault. You will not defile our lands any longer. Prepare to be Vanquished!" one of the Elves said.

To his dismay the Elves began to surround him with their weapons aimed at him. This was no longer a friendly-compet.i.tion of who had the best warriors. This was now the most dangerous game. Suddenly their weapons began to ignite in a bright white glow. So brilliant in its luminescence that Crocker's eyes were forced to shed a few arduous tears in bodily instinct. It would have been blinding if it weren't for his Full Faced helmet designed to absorb flashbang like lights.

The Elves were about to cast their Holy Magic at him as they tensed their weapons back readying to fire their Magic using their swords as a focus point.

Crocker got to his feet and thought his next move fast. He has to get away from this encirclement.

Bending his knee points of his Exo-Suit, Crocker leaped upwards the moment the Elves fired their spells by slashing away the magic with their great swords. The spells instead of striking their intended target was instead striking down their fellow Elves who were knocked down by the sheer magical force of the blasts of Holy Magics.

"Hey! What are you doing? Is that Holy Magic you are using?" one of the Officials protested.

Crocker landed several feet away now no longer surrounded but still clearly outnumbered 15 to 1

The Elves stood back up from the ground, their immaculate robes of silk stained with dirty and they gritted their teeth on how this Otherworlder slighted them.

"You are supposed to stay down! Stay down!" the Tourney Official cried. "You are dis--- hmmmphh!" the official tried to use his authority at the Elves brazen display of non-compliance to the rules only for a magical bolt to shoot him at the mouth silencing him.

"People of Souviel! You are being deceived! The Warrior you see before you are not what you think he is. It is a monster disguised to look like one of us… a DE---AAACCKK!!!" the Elf tried to proclaim his intentions only for his jaw to meet the thousands strong force of Crocker's Exo Suit arm.

"You talk too much!" Crocker grinned.

The Elves recomposed themselves as they tense their stances to fight this absolute beast of a Monster who claims he is human.

"Monster? He doesn't have any Magical proper---aaahhh" another Judge protested but he too was silenced by the magical bolt that blocked their mouths from expelling words.

More of the Elves began to conjure up magic from their hands, all while their fingers were tucked in various of poses in the shape of magical runes that emerged from their hands ready to burst out.

"Hey! No fair! You are all cheating!" the crowd jeered at the Elves.

Some of the Elves tried to explain to the attendees of the dire situation they are in but to no avail. The mob's anger was too heavy that the Elves warnings were drowned by the crowd's scornful distaste. The rest began to fire away all sorts of magical projectiles at Crocker from Fireb.a.l.l.s, Ice Shards and Lightning bolts.

"You want a monster huh? Well since you asked me… I will show you what this monster can do!" Crocker spat.

The big burly Half Maori man reached into a keypad on his left arm which gave an overlay of his suit's functionality. He scrolled through the menus until he reached one such b.u.t.ton appropriate for such a dire occasion.

Overdrive Performance

The b.u.t.ton had big yellow warning outlines around it foreshadowing the dangerous nature of this mode. Without hesitation, Crocker pressed the b.u.t.ton as he felt the energy core within his Powered Suit detonated to life. He felt the four limbs of the Hercules Mk. 4 surge with enhanced electrical power, his stiff robotic movements became much more fluid in flexibility without the sacrifice of thousands of Newtons worth of force.

"Come on! Come all! I'll take all of you knife-eared pompous p.r.i.c.ks!" Crocker roared as he charged towards the Elves. He clenched his fists as the enhanced mechanisms of his suit readies itself.

He dashed hastily forward towards the Elves, his enormous size contrasting with his ferocious speed. Those caught in his way soon learned that corporeally, that it was futile to block, weave, parry for his combined force was just simply beyond any doubt in the Elves mind, ALWAYS FASTER.

To them it was like fighting against a great Tidal Bore.

Crocker would be punched one Elite Elven Warrior so hard that it would crack whatever armor he was wearing to mangled shrapnel in addition to the sheer force sending him flying off across the arena or violently colliding with the walls below of spectator stands.

n.o.body in the Arena couldn't believe what they were seeing. 'the Ogrebreaker' was no tall tale myth. It was every degree of tangible reality that this man in the strange armor could tear apart one of Gliesia's greatest warriors like if it was nothing.

Every punch, kick and vigorous grapple could be felt in all senses by the crowd held pensively captive by the pa.s.sionate sight before them. Many didn't bother to run away from this battle as many wanted to see how this all ended. It was a landslide offensive for Crocker as one by one he took down the Elves knocking the out cold to the floor, their bodies crushed beneath the thousands of Newtons of Force the Hercules Suit dished out. Before long, there were only two Elven a.s.sailants left amongst the initial fifteen warriors who stepped inside the Arena, the rest of their compatriots laying on the ground inert with only anguish and despondency on how they were so easily humbled they were before Crocker.

"Hey get up! Get up!" Crocker urged one of his 'knocked out' teammates who only lay down on the ground both in compliance to the rules and in terror.

"What are you doing?" the Knight-Errant asked.

"Just get everyone out of here. They are here for me." Crocker said.

"You will be purged Demon! Holui Naur!" the Elf Mage cried.

His hands began to charge a brilliant hue of red-yellow light from within him. All the power and prayers he could muster converged to him. He would destroy this Demon once and for all or die trying.

Yet Crocker again was even more angered at these Elves hubris. He pushed the Souvieli Knight away, non-verbally urging to run away with the rest of his bewildered teammates. He turned to the Elven Mage and a sinister deduction came to his head, if the Elves need to make fancy poses with their hands fingers to cast their spells then perhaps, he can disrupt their as his studies with Aliathra and Iris would say, a Mages 'Dui' by PHYSICALLY disharmonizing said tapping of magical portents.

With the Hercules Suit's amplified agility Crocker grasped the Elf's hands, his large hand easily eclipsing the combined size of the Elven Mage's, and with fiendish enmity he crushed them both like a shattered fruit with pulp and bone ejecting out of the Elf's hands. He screamed in intense pain as the Magic in his hands began to pile up dangerously cascading into an unstable ball of energy.

Quickly, Crocker with his superior strength pushed away the Elf before his body was fully engulfed in Magical Energy. Like pulling the grenade pin off of the other man's pocket, the Elf Mage exploded in radiant flames killing him instantly.

"You!" a feminine yet martial voice boomed behind Crocker.

Another Elf, this time a Woman wielding a spear pointing glaringly at the Exo-Suit Soldier.

"I am Brenyra 'the Singing Blade', Inquisitor of the Great Radiant Tower. You have committed Crimes against the people of the Light and the land in which they inhabited on with your disgusting monstrosities." Brenyra boastfully indicted.

"What are you talking about?" Crocker questioned.

"You arrived here and started to corrupt the land with your Metal Cities and seducing the Sovereign Prince of Tyr Rian and the Princess Aliathra Lareththor to your tunes corrupting them with your promises of power and grandeur for price of their souls. You devour the land with your great beasts feeding the life out of the soil and leaving nothing but ash and rock in their wake." Brenyra justified.

"No, no, you are wrong. All of you ARE WRONG! We are being set up! This thing? Us being Demons? That is ----" Crocker defended himself and the Colony.

"Lies! All Lies! Alboen will never return while the Alliance Still breathes!" Brenyra shot him down. "For your crime of simply daring to return Sp.a.w.n of Alboen, I shall vanquish you off the face of the world!" Brenyra roared as she charges towards Crocker, her spearpoint facing towards him.

Crocker weaved pa.s.s Brenyra barely at the nick of time, his exhaustion from both the Overclocking and extraordinary output of his mind and body starting to wear on him. He needed to end this fight fast.

Brenyra's Spear had a large spear point as Crocker could scantily observe. The way the blade was designed made it ideal for both slashing sideways for a cut as it was thrusting forward for a stab. In essence it was essentially a short sword with a rather elegant finish on an elongated pole worthy to be wielded by a hackneyed, world-spanning and boastfully leading High Elven civilization that all imaginations could conjure when they hear about what they think of when they hear those words.

Gilded in gold, fashioned in a blue felt handled pole with an elegant blade to match, the Elf walloped with her polearm with a barrage of strikes that Crocker barely managed to hold on with the protective armor of his Suit's mechanical arms. Thanks to his hobby of boxing with a few occasional fights that were not friendly Spars, Crocker maintained his defenses but he was already starting to feel the Elf's attack wearing him down.

"Take this!" Brenyra shouted as she swoops down her spear, this time at another angle.

The spear tip slashed an expose part of Crocker's soft flesh drawing blood.

"d.a.m.n you Elf b.i.t.c.h!" Crocker let his rage get the better off him.

He launched a wild haymaker punch towards the Elf but the Female Warrior was expecting of this. She was trying to rile up the 'Demon' before her to make him on edge so he could make the mistake of forgoing his defenses.

Her spear tip parried Crocker's wild punch before, with the grace worth decades of consistent refinement of skill, she pushed Crocker away from her with the blunt ball point of the other side of her Spear giving her the distance she needs with her superior reach.

"A flawed technique." Brenyra derided.

Lewis recoiled at the shock, the pommel strike causing his helmet to ring troublesomely in a daze. He could almost not hear the ringing of his helmet's built-in radio.

"Crocker! I saw everything! We are coming for you. E.T.A One-twenty seconds!" the voice of Edward Clay trumpeted.

"is 'Bout fooo-king time!" Crocker spat.

He regained his focus quick enough to see that the Elf actuating her arms back with her spear for a mighty thrust.

Crocker strafe right, the spear missing its mark by a mere inch before he grappled the polearm's handle with his left hand and elbowing the Elven Warrior with his right to stun her. Her hands promptly loosened its grip giving Crocker the opportunity to yank the spear out of her lithe hands before shoving her back with a swift knee to her abdomen. Now holding the spear, Crocker bitterly snapped it in two like a twig with the fulcrum of his armored knee.

"Stop this before more people get hurt. We don't have to fight." Crocker pleaded to the Elf's desire to protect.

"Don't raise your charlatan voice of mercy with me Demon! To think you can seduce Prince Clovich and Princess Aliathra." Brenyra oppugned.

She pulled out her sword and readied herself for a more up close and personal expulsion of Otherworldly invaders.

"I am surprised you can THINK at all!" Crocker miffed.

"Engarde!" Brenyra rallied as she swung her blades rapidly at the UFE Soldier.

Raising his guard, Crocker blocked the slashes of Brenyra's Elven sword, the mythical Elven steel colliding with years upon years of Earth's greatest feats of Engineering. It was a battle of the Fantastic against the Architectural.

And Crocker was slowly running out of time…

"Suit Battery is at Critical Capacity." The Hercules' MK. 4's UI warned. He and also his trusty suit was about to lose steam.

"We are here! Breaching!" Clay radioed on his helmet.

Bright flashes erupted from the ground blinding everyone in the Arena. Luckily for Crocker his helmet again negated the effects of the UFE's Flashbangs. The Cavalry arrived just in time as hordes of both UFE Soldiers and Aparo Corp PMC's descended upon the Arena grounds. Jumping over the railings they were rushing towards the downed Elven warriors and one Mage's seared corpse arresting the injured but still very much alive Elven Warriors whose hands were restrained by the nylon Flexicuffs the reinforcements bore on them. The warriors could only succ.u.mb to the defeat and disgrace of being captured alive for their enervated bodies could do little to no amount of resistance as the grungy 'Demons' restrained their hands and gathered them up.

"No! My people!" Brenyra despaired. Her stance evaporated on the sight of everything falling apart in the worse possible way for a soldier, a spy and servant of the Astilbian Throne could be. "What… are you?" She looked despondently at Crocker.

With one last huff of his now depleted Exo-Suit's power, Crocker stomped the ground intimidatingly as he rested his arms around his waists. The ground quaked as the earth broke apart on the suit's heavy shockwave.

"Exo-Suit battery fully depleted. Engaging Safety Protocol Number 3: Releasing Bindings." The UI announced.

As it said, the Bindings that tied Crocker's body to his Exo Suit were released causing Crocker, due to his exhaustion to nearly fall forward were it not for a quick reflex of his sore feet catching his body.

The Elven Warrior stood there unresponsively as Crocker, with what little energy he had left walked up to her and delivered one final Haymaker punch to her head knocking her out.

Victorious but tired, Crocker could only go onto his knees on the sandy ground panting and sweating with sores all over his muscles. Near his side, he noticed and caught his eyes the broken speartip that Brenyra had on her polearm before he snapped it off. He grabbed the Spearpoint and held it tight on his hand as a keepsake, a little souvenir for this Tour of Duty. He was for all intents and purposes, proud of himself. It looks like that playful hobby of boxing paid off after all.

He could only leave a smile as Clay and Obediah rushed towards him.

"Crocker! Are you alright?" Clay asked.

"Where the f.u.c.k was you when I needed you minutes ago?" Crocker asked.

"I wasn't expecting the ENTIRE Elven Tourney team to be trying to kill you. I had to get help. Besides, Obediah was there covering you the whole time from the Duchal Box. But he couldn't get a good shot in." Clay answered.

"Those Elves were fast if I say so myself." Obediah said.

"You should have taken the shot…" Crocker reprimanded.

Immediately, a Native Healer with an official Chwartiadd uniform and a UFE field medic arrived on the scene and a.s.sess Crocker's Injuries.

"So, am I still good?" Crocker asked both of them.

"Flesh Wounds, they will heal." The field medic answered as he wrapped a bandage around the few cuts on Crocker's flesh.

Everytime however the medic touched his body, Crocker winced.

"Your muscles have over-exerted themselves due intense fighting." The Healer added as she soothed Crocker's wounds with her magics.

"But will it heal?" Crocker asked.

"You will need to be spoon fed for a few days…" the healer answered meekly.

"b.o.l.l.o.c.ks!" Crocker cursed.

-----------

10 broken beyond-repair training dummies, 4 smashed windows, 2 occasions of the same wall being demolished and a singed Magical Instructor were the casualties of Faithleann's training in the College of Magi. To say he was prodigy in the Magical Arts would be a litotes to a description of a person of extraordinary ability. Faithleann whenever he was taught a new spell would always get the spell right at the first or second time, he attempted them. From the humble yet serviceable spell of producing a flame to light a camp fire, conjuring a mage hand to pick up an object from a distance to a simple warding spell, the young Chosen One always delivered to the wonderment of his instructors.

But when it came to the more complex or outright dangerous spells however, those beams of awe became low jittering stress thanks to the aforementioned casualties of damage to the College's property and one staff.

"Focus boy! You need to learn how to control your gift." Carliah lectured.

"I can't help it Miss Silverdane! It's just that with these Marvelous Spells I can finally do incredible things! Like when can I go fight a dragon? Or search for lost relics? By the G.o.ds! When will we go to Tyr Rian and take the fight to those Demons? I mean, that's why I got the Mark of the Bane right? From the Crystal?" Faithleann said.

He proudly bore that mark he was painfully inscribed upon his head that signify his status as a Chosen One. The brand mark was shaped like a tear drop that formed around the actual script of the ancient word of Anathema being 'Gweninejar'. At first it was an honor for the College to accept a Crystal Chosen, but the more that Faithleann sally through his lessons while boastfully telling all of his fellow students whom he sat in with in cla.s.s and also the Professor's themselves, the more that people were reluctant to be anywhere near him, his status or not. The Grey Order had to separate him from the entire Student Body for private lessons to not risk an incident.

"That is Methra again Faithleann. Remember your t.i.tles of respect." Carliah reminded him. "Beware of pride child! You are still young and have yet to know the perils of the world. You do not know what it is like to see the darkness of this world."

"Look, I am the Chosen One here! My destiny is to go out there and fighting those demons in glorious battle not staying here and waste time with your lecture and needless training! If you let me out there, I can vanquish the demons!" Faithleann begged incessantly.

"I had the misfortune of so many before you with that att.i.tude to die in within their first year as a Guildsman." Carliah protested.

"Maybe he is right in some aspects." Mita's voice interrupted Faithleann's buzzes.

She stood before them, not in her usual roguish leathers but in a simple clothed shirt and pants. Her skin was exposed leaving little to the imagination of her figure and also several scars obtained from a few… lucky hits on her flesh. Fresh out of her tiring journey from Tyr Rian and now back at the sanctuary of Haringpoint once again to relay all of what she had found.

"Mita, you are back. How was Tyr Rian? I heard you had failed." Carliah asked.

"Tyr Rian? The Crossroad City? Where the Demon's took over? What was it like? Were the Demon's eating people? Building their armies? Summoning more of their accursed bretheren through their vile vessels and obscene rituals?" Faithleann badgered.

He had dropped his training sword and shield onto the floor as he skipped towards the Crow Leader with his fawning infatuation on the high-ranking Grey Order member.

"None much that I had seen of from my short time there. From the looks of it, there take over was surprisingly placid since none of the Walls that the Citadel is famous for was destroyed." Mita answered.

"Maybe that Prince let them in! He would be known in the history books for generations as the 'Arch-Traitor'! I can see it now with the scribes already." Faithleann vowed. "So Mita, how did you and your Crows manage to get out of that Demon Stronghold alive? Did you use smoke bombs? Somersault atop the city roofs? Sliced up a few of them?" the boy asked.

Mita's face turned aside much to her chagrin. The more that the boy talked about her Crows the more of the anguish of being forced to leave her Crows, the people she had personally trained them from neophyte to adepts, behind to fates worse than death. She remembered the sacrifices they had made to ensure that at least one of them could make it out of that d.a.m.ned city alive, and that one was Mita. It was not supposed to be the Master, who became like a parent to the other Crows to bury her denotative children without a body to give the proper blessings off. She had to personally light a lone candle for every Crow that didn't make it. The child's naïve provocation of what she was forced for her own pride and her reputation to endure was absolutely tasteless despite the fact that the boy, Chosen One or not, is likely not heard the grim news. She almost wanted to quietly walk away at this moment and her checking up on her colleague and this promising young lad was a mistake.

Carliah, realizing the Crow Master's bereft cues, grabbed Faithleann's shoulder.

"The Crow Master normally only talk what she needs to be said child." Carliah said. Her stiff grasp of the Chosen One's shoulder barring him from his restless inquests.

"Yes, what needs to be said. I can say with confidence that the Demon's will only get stronger as time pa.s.ses further and we must not delay. However, I am afraid this boy is not ready yet for the journey ahead." Mita said.

"Oh, you're Just like Lady Silverdane, saying 'I am not ready'." Faithleann mocked Mita's dainty voice.

Both the High Mage and the Crow were disgusted at his arrogance, the power within him also grew his ego too. The two women composed themselves, they need to continue. The Child will learn through time.

"You are not ready in the sense that you need a blade worthy of your power." Mita continued.

"You mean Cân Rhyfel? We are going to look for King Caldell's Tomb?" Faithleann asked. "I thought it was lost forever."

"Perhaps, but I don't think chasing some tacky rumor from a crazed hermit would produce anything of value.  I mean he told me that the place where he pointed at where he says where he thinks the tomb is that the villagers are all…'not right in the head' before they chased him off." Mita said.

"I had my fair share of 'Insane Hermits' telling the wildest things only to find out that they are actually speaking something true. Besides, in my experience all rumors have a seed of truth written somewhere. Maybe we should just investigate this man's claims." Carliah argued crossing her arms questioningly.

"Perhaps, but I would rather go through a task that is much more certain such as getting the Chosen One here is own blade." Mita said.

"My own blade?" the boy muttered.

Faithleann stopped and looked at the Crow dumbfounded for a moment, only to come to the realization of what she meant when she says that he needed 'a blade worthy' for him. He was going to get a weapon, his own Sword of fabled quality. A blade made out of Actcoolite.

"I am going to get… my own sword? That is magnificent! Wait, I need to think of a name first. Demon Destroyer? Light of the G.o.ds? Sword of the Saints? Who would be the Blacksmith though? Will I be able to choose how the blade will be shaped? I always wanted to hold an Elven Curved sword, but also want it to have a very Eastern-styled crossguard too with snake emblems. Can I? Can I? Can I?" the boy pestered.

"Hold on first Child, those can be arranged but there's just a problem. The Actcoolite themselves. The Dwarves have it and we need to get the Ingots ourselves." Mita informed.

"From here to the Ostalrocs? That's going to be a long journey for us! But also, the Mountains themselves, I heard they are scary." Faithleann shuddered.

"Don't worry!" Findrum's voice introduced itself.

He walked into the room alongside Petur Reikdorf and a few Knights.

"I know my way around the Ostalrocs like the back of my hand. Our destination is my Clanhold of Tilelyuhr, home of the greatest forge in all of Ysanigrad that can rival those Elven Pansies in Ayagroth. c.i.p.ag's Breath, also known as the 'Forge by the Volcano'. That's where I got my two lucky axes here. I can't wait for you to meet the smith's there and my niece who works as a Tavern Maid, she would love to see you and of course her Uncle again." Findrum said.

 "You still need to be able to lift your own weight around and just sitting here practicing your fireb.a.l.l.s to your sword stances can only do you so much. But the best teacher is experience out there in the world. So, every time we stop by a city or town with a Grey Order Office, you should take a Quest that is local to that area. You will need to warm up for the real fight ahead. Undead, Vampires and Bandits most likely and the occasional roaming monsters is what we should expect. But you need to be ready for whatever deed's that Gliesia will require of you so let's get your hand dirty. The more you sweat now will be the more you will bleed in battle and we need you to be ready when we go to the Ostalrocs and wherever from there." Petur said.

"What do you mean, 'We'? Are you saying…?" Faithleann widened his eyes on the realization.

"Yes, I Petur 'the Faithful' Reikdorf, with Findrum the Monster Slayer, Carliah Silverdane and Mita the Crow Master will accompany Faithleann 'the Bane' Garmhaic, the Chosen One of the Crystal Heart on his journey." Petur said with formal honorifics finished with a polite bow.

"In addition, the King has also has given you a substantial sum of Ducats to invest on your journey, a retinue of Knights and Legionnaires for some grunt work, Guildsman for the more special times and Mages for everything Magic related of course. You will meet them later however when we get set off by the Emperor in a few days." Findrum said.

"Alongside them we will have a caravan's worth of travelling gear for all us on our Journey that will follow us to the Heart of Darkness of where gates of Tyr Rian itself lay on.  We will need to wait for now, since the Empire is hard at work gathering everything and everyone we need for our journey." Petur added.

"I can't believe it!" Faithleann jumped for joy.

He was going on an Epic Quest to save the world with some of the Grey Order's finest heroes. He remembered the stories of the Hero's journey with is companions. Camping together, singing together and fighting together they all did as they fulfilled their goal of saving the world they loved from destruction. With the best possible companions at his side, a fully stocked caravan of all the things you can ask for a long hauling journey and of course once he gets his own Legendary Actcoolite sword, Faithleann Garmhaic will be able to fulfill his destiny as the Bane at which all the Otherworldy Demons who dared return when they were once banished. They will curse his name while the bards will sing in praise to him.

Faithleann 'Gweninejar' Garmhaic

Hero of Gliesia

--------------------

Echoes of laughter, merriment, dining and drinking alongside the melodies of romantic bards plucking, pulsating and whistling their instruments away in the night at Duke Thibault's Tent. A private affair was being commenced, a feast for the celebration of the first day of the Chwartiadd. The Duke's court feasted and played alongside the Winners of the Compet.i.tions of that day for it was a privilege to even just be in the same tent as the Duke for only the finest foods were served at his table. Diaz and Crocker sat there at the Honorary Table alongside the other day's victors witch each other whilst the rest of Stryder Group, Lutheor Mirrien and Mr. Bianchin sat along a separate table reserved for Guests of Honor. They were by common denomination sat adjacent to the large flowery table for the Duke and his closest advisors with the Guests of Honor sat on his left and the Victors at his right.

The meals served was generous portions of meats, fishes and fruits all concocted by the region's best chefs served alongside sweet wines to refresh their palates. Samantha, Aliathra and Bobby helped themselves excessively with the wine being served, Diaz and Kayin gorged on the courses of meals set before them, whilst in the other hand, Crocker had to be spoon fed every morsel by a woman who volunteered to help him eat his fill. His muscles were to sore for him to lift himself up and the doctors told him he will need to take some Vitamin Shots at his person for a few days before he can get back to duty. Not that the SAW Gunner didn't mind, the Woman had a pretty face… if only he could only just muster the strength and visual clarity to smile due to his entire body covered head to toe with hot compresses.

"Is it true you not only fought those Elves and won but also took on an Ogre brave sir?" the woman asked him.

Crocker grunted in broken moans. His body, too impaired to speak properly.

"I think he is trying to say yes." Diaz explained to the girl. "Why not talk to me sweetie? I am the best racer right now in the world, and I can actually talk!" Diaz bragged.

Crocker moaned again, he just wanted to give plain 'f.u.c.k you' to Diaz since he wanted to keep the la.s.s to himself.

Meanwhile back at the Guest's Table, the scene was much merrier.

"…It was so funny that even the Drill Sergeant couldn't help but laugh… normally he would have made us to push-ups but the Sarge let it go for this one." Samantha told a joke from her Westpoint days to her team mates.

Everyone of the soldiers laughed, with Clay laughing the loudest. However, Iris and Aliathra happily looked on. To Stryder's entire credit, Samantha is a completely different person when she downs a few rounds of alcohol into her systems.

"Ohmyf.u.c.kingG.o.d! That would ruin Westpointers rep for being 'robots' if more found out." Clay rioted stomping the table rowdily.

"I even shared that on Reddit and got about a hundred likes on that one yeah? Someone called it a fake since it came from West Point but its true!" Samantha drunkenly pointed out before she downed another round of Wine.

Kayin almost spat out the fowl meat on his mouth when he heard of Samantha's joke too. At the same time since he was next to Iris, he grabbed her, almost by instinct or perhaps unwittingly, by the hip around the Vampire Witch's designer dress. It was form fitting that by touch leaves little to the imagination of what her hips was like.

Iris blushed and looked towards Kayin. She could feel the caress of his strong black arms wrapping around her with his warmth inflaming her from within. She shuffled closer to the Nigerian to further enjoy his pleasant company.

She just couldn't help it with him. His strength and intellect seduced her alongside the man's exotic skin stone which was as black as a new moon's sky. Where many would flee before her, he was the first to stand up against her. Everyone feared the Vampire's, even Lutheor Mirrien held some of his own reservations for her due to her exceptional magical talents. Kayin was different, he was proud of his own intellect that complements well with his physical prowess. Seeing him out there fighting or carrying all of those heavy machinery around while still being able to entertain whatever inquiries that she would forward to him was astonishing. Iris always thought that intelligence and strength were mutually exclusive to each other. You were either a desk-jockeying scholar or a dull-headed brute whose muscles think faster than their brain.

"Yeah, you look great with each other… *hic*" Obediah clumsily nudged. The ale in his breath masked his sincere tone.

Everyone laughed, even Aliathra saw to it that the Vampire did indeed look great together with the Obsidian colored man. Kayin indeed was an exceptional individual, smart yet also strong, he just lacks all charisma due to his rather straightforward and calculative nature. Diaz though, despite his boisterousness can indeed back up his words which was something the Elf Princess liked about him.

"Iris, a little warning…there's a saying where I come from…" Samantha placed her shoulder at Iris'. "Once you go black, you can never go back!" she said before sipping another round of wine.

Kayin's eyes widened at the implications of his superior's comments. He was attracted to the Vampire in away but out of professional reasons due to her inquisitive nature, her arcane talents and overall competency in handling explosives thanks to his teaching. He tried to tactfully move the Vampire Witch away but she only coiled him harder.

"Don't fight it, admit it. You like each other." Clay said.

"Fine…" Kayin submitted. "Maybe I do… but why Iris?" he asked the Vampire.

"You are everything I want in a man. Tall, Strong, Handsome and Smart. Just like Bandall Thunderhand." Iris said.

"You read Bandall Thunderhand?" Aliathra jumped when she harkened those familiar words.

"You too?" Iris turned to Aliathra.

"Who is this Bandall Thunderhand?" Samantha asked.

"Only the most handsome, dashing and magnificent Bard in all of Alfel-Nora and beyond! Me and my sister read all of his adventure's all twenty of them. Oh, I wish I can get the twenty first back home… but then… you know." Aliathra transitioned to a downed expression when she had to mention again about her home.

"I only got to book seven." Iris added.

"Maybe I can tell you what happened after Bandall jumped off of that Giant Tree." Aliathra giggled.

"Attention! Attention! May I have your Attention pls!" Duke Thibault announced.

A dinner bell rang loudly across the tent grabbing everyone's attention. All turned to him as they saw the Duke stood up along with a very ecstatic Lutheor Mirrien and prim Robert Bianchin.

"As you all know, these Otherworlder's have been shown to display strength, intellect and discretion at all terms and they have also shown to be nothing else but willing to cooperate and help us in our time of need now and also to the future." The Duke said.

It worked as Samantha couldn't believe it. Duke Thibault has just been bought over to the UFE's side thanks to Mr. Bianchin over there. Although she still had her reservations about it most likely a monopolistic move in of Aparo Corps industrial and economic muscles but it was all for the good of stability in the region. She didn't want to see another messy Corporate warzone like what she saw in Kesserheim again.

"To my Knight-Captain, you will be made the most indomitable in all the lands with the aid, training and new arms to be given to you by Aparo Merchant Guild. To my Duchal-Architect, only the finest stones and brick for you! And to my Treasurer… wait… where is he?" Duke Thibault asked.

"Oh, Jorgen just excused himself right now… he said he drank too much wine right now and he is at the back." Said one of the servant girls.

"Well I will tell him the good news myself when he comesback. But for now, let us toast to Unity, Harmony and Prosperity for Souviel! Lechyda!" the Duke cheered.

Servants began to spread around the tent pa.s.sing a golden goblet filled with red wine to each of the guest. Even the UFE Mission had their share of the tap too.

"Lechyda!" the Duke repeated.

Everyone copied what he said and with a mighty roar all shouted:

"Lechyda!"

And promptly gulped…

"Chwa!" Iris cursed. She violently expelled the red wine onto the floor.

Everyone in the tent looked towards the Vampire Witch She collapsed with her hands grasping the discarded liquid and her knee's wobbling in weakness.

"What happened?" Samantha asked as she knelt down beside her.

"This… wine… it…poisoned me…" Iris muttered slowly.

"What do you mean?" Samantha pressed.

"Ladui Rose? This wine, I can feel it… Holy Magics. It has been consecrated." Aliathra added.

"Consecrated?" Samantha turned to the Elf.

Adrenaline surged through her, stimulating her once inebriated brain. There was only one group of people she knows who can 'Poison' drink with Holy Enchantments.

"Die you Demon filth!" one of the servants roared. He revealed his hair to see the thin outlines of leaf shaped ears. On his right fist that he pointed defiantly at Mr. Bianchin's direction. His arm sprouted two bone like limbs with a tensed string stretched aback along its long points. It was a sort of hand drawn crossbow.

It was the Sefydliad!

With little time to think and the fate of what could be the most urgently needed Diplomatic Mission in all of the UFE's history. Samantha, now powered with adrenaline that purged the toxins within her leaped out of her table and dived towards in between the firing distance of the Elven a.s.sa.s.sin and Bobby just as the former squeezed the trigger.

A crossbow bolt, enchanted with Holy Magics shot forth but thanks to Samantha's reflexes met her body instead of Bobby's.

The Lieutenant's figure slided down across the floor with Rose in slight shock of what she had just done. She just took a bullet… or bolt. Yet strangely she didn't feel anything, no biting pain nor any feeling of something stuck between her. She felt strangely…

Warm.

"You will die too!" the Sefydliad a.s.sa.s.sin as he reloaded his crossbow for another round and walked towards Sam to finish her off.

Samantha was caught in the moment as panic took over her. She forgot her training of reaching down to the pistol on her waist and drawing before the superior adversary has a chance to finish her off.

She could only just, with the young nerves of hers, reach her hand bare handedly like an unarmed civilian pleading for her life.

But then…

A lightning spark of green energy suddenly erupted from Samantha's right hand, the same hand that she remembered where the strange mark she received days ago appeared. She had kept it a secret between her squad mates, at least until after this Diplomatic Mission was over and they are all back at New Albany where she can report to Colonel Polonsky. The lightning bolt of energy was also followed with a loud rapturous thunder that shook the earth with a boom.

The Magic Bolt struck her would be finisher dead center and to Samantha's horror, the a.s.sailant was vaporized before her. He faded into dust alongside his clothes and weapon. He was gone beyond gone.

"The one with the Red Hair! She's a Mage!" another one ordered.

3 more Sefydliad Agents revealed themselves from the disguises of servants. Hands drawn with either magic or a magically enchanted hand bows attached to their forearms. They shot towards Samantha with all of their self-righteous fury as the Lieutenant scrambled for cover.

But the missiles were too fast for Samantha's reflexes, striking her body once again. Yet instead of her going into a shock over herself getting shot. Samantha felt the previously felt warmth again… turning hotter and hotter inside her body. Like a surge of electricity being left unstable in its current, Samantha's instincts turned from survival to the suddenly encompa.s.sing need to expel.

She stood up as lightning bolts and the light green energies filled with excited winds of magic giving the Lieutenant a Jade glow. She took a good look at the three Elves with their hands drawn forth to her and their faces tainted with turbulence as if they never expected something like this to happen in their attempted subterfuge.

In that brief moment, Samantha had one thought in mind.

That she REALLY NEEDED to kill all of these three people.

Just as soon as she thought, the energies around her complied. More lightning bolts came forth from within her in a violent discharge of power. It blinded nearly everyone with its pure flashes of light.

3 Missiles shot forth and spread themselves each towards the a.s.sailants that Samantha saw as the a.s.sa.s.sins.

Two struck two a.s.sa.s.sin's down. Their bodies evaporating to dust. Whilst the third one had to fire across the crowded tent towards the farthest a.s.sa.s.sin in the room. Luckily for him, unlike his poor colleagues, he casted a magical ward on time shielding him from the blow. But the blast resulting from the magic dissipating was great enough that he was pushed backwards all the way pa.s.s the door.

"Get him!" one of the Duchal Guards shouted.

The Knights-Errant of Souviel drew their swords and began to make chase for the Sefydliad Agent who dared to try to make an attempt on the Duke's Life or at least that what they believe it looked like since Mr. Bianchin was right next to Duke Thibault at the table.

The entire tent was set ablaze with frights and frantic foot treads as the attendants in the Tent scrambled to safety with the Duke quickly being dragged away by his bodyguards.

"There's been an attack!" the Duke screamed

Meanwhile the rest of Stryder group approached Samantha who after discharging the magical energy that she had in dispelled. She slid down on her knees as she could feel her hands burning like hot steam. She took of her gloves not caring that she exposed her strange brand mark to her colleagues that also glowed brightly in the same Jade energy that she had released earlier.

"Lieutenant? How did you do that?" Clay asked.

"Indeed! You are not a mage how can…" Iris tried to approach Samantha.

But then her fangs began to water with saliva as she approached the Lieutenant. She felt the power of some enormous amount of energy within her that made the Vampire Witch wet with appet.i.te. Before she could get her hands-on Samantha, Kayin pulled Iris away. He didn't want her to betray her Vampiric nature in public and he knew by the time he spent with her about her quirky habits. Maybe Iris was right about that she is attracted to him.

But it wasn't just Kayin's protective instincts that were the reason he deflected Iris away from Samantha. According to his scanner on his shades he could detect copious amounts of Radioactivity within Samantha.

"She's Nuclear?!?!" Kayin said.

"What? Where?" Samantha exclaimed. She scrambled around her body in confusion to Kayin's declaration.

"You are!" Kayin added.

"Me? How!?!?!" Samantha questioned.

"Neutralize her quick!" Bobby ordered.

"I am sorry Lieutenant…" Clay apologized as he pulled elbowed Samantha's head knocking her before the Lieutenant could react.

"What the h.e.l.l just happened? Why did one of us just shoot magic?" Bobby asked.

"I don't know how she did that honestly." Kayin answered.

"Ser Mudwin? If I may?" Aliathra tapped Kayin's shoulder. "Look at Ladui Roses' hand." She pointed out.

All of Stryder Group, Mr. Bianchin and Lutheor Mirrien approached Samantha. They now see with their own naked eyes the strange mark on Samantha's hand.

"It's like some sort of Rune." Lutheor said.

"Not just any Rune, but it is a Brand of Choosing!" Aliathra said.

She knelt down on Samantha's unconscious body and held her hand up for the rest of her acquiantances to better examine. Only Mirrien and Iris shared a surprised but knowledgeable nod to this strange mark whilst the Earthlings were confused.

"Are you saying that… Samantha…?" Iris began question upon the implications of what Aliathra had deduced.

"She has been chosen by the Sacred Crystal Heart." Aliathra informed everyone. "Her mark in my tongue, Rhannu-Prietar meaning 'the Share Holder'. I believe Samantha, no… I am SURE… that Samantha has been Gifted not by blood… but by the Great Crystal Heart itself."

--------------

Marxian barely made it away from his pursuers by sheer dumbluck. He was so confident at first when he securing his benefactor, a man on the inside of the Duchal Tent to smuggle them in with servant disguises to a.s.sa.s.sinate the Demons who attend on Duke Thibault's side. He thought that blessing the toasting wine with Holy Magics would poison the Demons or at least weaken them enough for his men to close in for the kill. Yet in a sick twist of fate, he was foiled again. That red headed woman, the one they call 'Samantha Rose' revealed her hidden Magical talents upon him and vaporized his friend Waltorin and the rest of the Sefydliad cell a.s.signed to Souviel. He was all that is left. Now with this 'Samantha Rose' name etched within his head, Marxian vowed for vengeance. He will vanquish that vile Demoness if it's the last thing he do. But for now, he needs to regroup with his contact. They needed a new plan.

The Elven Spy ran across the festive streets of New Souviel using the celebrations as cover as he made his way discreetly towards the rendezvous point. He knew that their contact within the Duke's Court had just as much to lose as the Elves and the Empire are if the Otherworlders were allowed to establish their footings in the Duchy of Souviel.

He made his away upon a shady alley and whistled a special tune that he arranged with the contact as a challenge word. Another whistle responded and it was the correct response.

"Jodent? Gresgi Jodent?" Marxian said.

"Did you kill them?" Gresgi Jodent, the Chief Tax Collector of Souviel emerged from the shadows.

"No, we have failed. One of the Demon's used Magic against us. I was the only survivor." Marxian regretabbly answered.

"By the G.o.ds… we have no more options left but one." Gresgi Jodent said.

"No, we are not going for the last option! This could put you at risk too." Marxian dissuaded.

"If that Demon who goes by the name of 'AaPRoe' wraps the Duke around his finger then you can say Goodbye to Souviel and give the entire Duchy to the Demons in a silver plate. You, me, your Royal Family and the Empire will lose Everything." Gresgi said.

It was a well-guarded secret among the Sefydliad and the Slaegian Empire that Gresgi Jodent, a former Lawyer and Tax Collector from Haringpoint was given the de-facto means of power in the Duchy of Souviel. They had little faith at Duke Thibault's ability to rule over Souviel so they a.s.signed him to be in charge of the Tax collection going through the region. He was also given permission to set up various extortive schemes like Loan-Sharking and 'Accelerated-Processing' of important doc.u.ments in order to increase the revenue that the Empire got. He had established himself from the powerbase of his Bank for over twenty years starting from Thibault's ascension. The Duke was more concerned about keeping himself and all of his subjects in a constant state of felicitous Bread and Circuses. But with the coming of the Otherworlders and how this 'Aparo' Demon whispered sweet nothings of promises of power and wealth in exchange for the one thing Gresgi Jodent hated the most, Exclusivity Rights. He absolutely hated sharing.

"Fine, but we will only get one chance at this. It's all or nothing. What is the plan?" Marxian asked the Chief Tax Collector.

"Two things, one the Grey Order, there are a lot of Grey Order Adventurer's here in Souviel celebrating the festivities or just pa.s.sing by. We will use them for our plan." Gresgi explained.

"How will you get these Adventurer's to agree to help us? Just bribe them with all of your Ducats?" Marxian questioned.

"Bribe is such a harsh word. More of, 'Award' I prefer. Anyways, to the second part of my plan. You and I know that both of our realms have very… differing views of Magic and the people who uses them am I correct?" Gresgi asked.

"Yes, I do." The Elven Agent nodded.

The Slaegian Empire and the Ethuilen Entente shared different views of how Magic should be harnessed. For the Elves, Magic should be nurtured and accepted with educational grants and openings to possible high-salaried Arcane related jobs within the Entente for the beneficial strength of the True Elves. But for the Empire's perspective, Magic needs to be controlled for the correct purposes. Guards, Officials and even the College of Magi themselves need to keep a record of every Magic-User in the world. They, the Magic-Users must be reported upon seeing the first signs of Magical Potential. The Empire's processes state that they must be sent to a special education affiliated with the College to learn both the strength and dangers of their powers to indoctrinate them to use their gifts for the benefit of the State only. Most Mages who didn't decide to join the ranks of the College registered with the Grey Order Guild with the Empire's agents always closely monitoring their actions. Harboring an independently aligned Mage or being one yourself with the stigmatic t.i.tle of 'Rogue Mage' is a punishable offense of the highest degree. Many of these Rogue Mages, with their nefarious reasons for not registering themselves with the College of Magi would hide themselves away, practicing their dangerous arts in secret. There were numerous occurrences of attacks, accidents and other forms of mishaps caused by these Rogue Mages which only further pushed by the Slaegian Senate to enact harsher and stricter laws and punishment against them and their a.s.sociates. It was much a shock to Marxian that the Vampire, one by the name of 'Iris Cadohagan' was among the side of the Demons. She and perhaps more of her twisted kind might have also began to align themselves with the Otherworlders. To both Gresgi and Marxian this must stop.

"I can accuse the Duke of harboring a Rogue Mage. This will give us some time to place… the 'Right People' in the Duke's Palace to make the… Apprehension. The Duke will be ruined and for my work in exposing treachery within the Duchy, the Emperor will award my family the Dukedom of Souviel." Gresgi conspired.

"I see. Is that's where the Grey Order comes in?" Marxian asked.

"Them and also my Guards, your fellow Elves from the Emba.s.sy and a few others in between too." Gresgi added.

Marxian nodded. The plan was clear to him now. It was this or the lost of an important region in the Empire.

"Understood? Good, we will need to make the arrangements. Follow me to the Grey Order Office. My guards will protect you. I know the Manager well." Gresgi said.

A Cadre of guards engulfed Marxian as the Scheming Gresgi marched forth with them following behind him for their plot to enact.

Yet despite all of Gresgi's attempts of subtlety. There was one person who overheard the Chief Tax Collector's conspiracy. He emerged from his darkened corner behind some wooden boxes as they stood their mouths agape in terror and pants still loosened downwards and his bottoms still exposed

It was Father Bishop. He had retreated behind that alleyway for a moment of relief after eating glutinously Sandulf's signature Braised Prawns in a sweet Segor Root and Chullembi stew with a side of Grapes. He wanted a moment to relax as he excreted the food away. As if by the hands of the Almighty himself, the Catholic Priest chose that certain alleyway where he overheard the conspiracy against the UFE and him take place.

"Jesus, Mary and Joseph! These monsters will not stop us! They will not stop Sacra Terra!"

He needed to warn someone… anyone… of the danger ahead.