GATE: and so the Iron Pact Fought (a GATE: and thus the JSDF Fought fic)

[Aaron Fox]

Oh boy, I found out what has been giving me my damned writer's block: a little side story idea that explores a little more of Hauptmann Aaron. In this case, something stolen and shattered out of spite returns whole. I lost it because Chrome was being a finicky bitch, but it has returned after a fashion. It also introduces the sort of beings that Hauptmann Aaron works with, beings with godly powers.

So, without further ado, this little side story of a man having something returned to him.

---

Fort Portal, Barracks #4 Common Room; December 24th, 2017 - 23:45

I sat in front of the Tannenbaum, wallowing in my sorrow. Almost five years ago, I was fighting the remnants of the Zombie Battalion* -an occultist unit of the 1st French Commune- when they ripped one of the first Psi Memories I ever extracted, one that I kept close for almost a decade. A psi memory that my friends and I cherished for years. I can barely remember the feelings of that one event, a literal miracle on the battlefield. It's... disheartening. Even with the Celestial Council searching high and low for it, they haven't found all the pieces for it yet.

Still, it made ensuring the Zombie Battalion's complete end all bittersweet. At least no one else had to go through the hell that I went through when they were still alive.

"Well, Slick, it's been a crazy six months, hasn't it?" Tony rhetorically asked, "Given half the shit we've been through already, I'm half expecting something to go horribly wrong."

"It would be our luck, given that the Dead Six is all in one area of operations," I chuckled, "Still, things have been quiet, all considering. Those idiots are keeping their distance, the situation on the other Earth is slowly stabilizing, and things have slowed to a crawl as the winter months continue." One common thread across history is that winter isn't conducive to military operations, no matter where you fight. Mother nature always has a say, and winter shuts down pretty much everything. "Still, this war is problematic, given the resistance so far. We're dealing with genuine Romans instead of more normal folk, so the normal war weariness rules don't apply." Rome was... vastly different when it came to the rules of war weariness. They weren't immune; it's just that they had a psychological, cultural, political, and geopolitical profile that made them different. Especially since they could pull off a 'two-fifths of our male population died in one battle, see you next year' semi-regularly.

"True that, Slick," Tony commented, "Hopefully, Princess Pina can get some sense into them, though with the forces involved, we might have to trim the local celestials." I frowned; that is always some nasty business in the first place, but that's why the Dead Six was created, to deal with 'Celestials gone off the reservation'. Each of us with abilities that can at least negate any shenanigans they would throw at us.

"Yeah, I thought as much," I commented, "it isn't the best job in the world, but someone has to do it." I remembered what the Council told me about 'The Rules', knowing that they apply to everyone, even gods. Given that the Salderian pantheon likely broke at least a dozen minor rules (especially ones about delaying scientific development), we're looking at some prison cells in Hades getting new occupants at the minimum. "Though, if they're as far off the reservation as we fear, it'll get messy."

"Something that everyone is afraid of," Tony frowned, "Hopefully, it won't get that messy. We don't want the locals and Alt-Worlder's first introduction to our unit to be another Amarillo Incident." We both shuddered, as that incident was bad enough, to begin with. To have it repeated? Yeah, that was asking for trouble and plenty of questions. Questions that would have answers that would cause plenty of problems. "So, how deep have the locals gone with investigating you?"

That was a question that I dreaded. "All the black ink is slowing them down, but they're penetrating further than expected," I answered, "the Alternate-Earth is having somewhat better but similar luck." I sighed at the prospect of them finding out what I was. Though, if our assets on that other Earth are any indication, they'll be neck-deep in the paranormal shit soon enough, especially since Doctor Horror's toys were found in that version of Russia. "If they find out about the secret wars, though, it'll get messy."

"Yeah," Tony understood, "When you've got wars that were essentially men with old grievances against one man, that'll turn quite a few heads no matter what dimension you're from." That was when we both heard the chimes of Christmas bells...

... and that meant only one thing.

"Ah, two of my favorite mortals!" Saint Nicholas cheered, "It has been years since I've seen you." The bottomless knapsack rumbled from the numerous gifts he was packing. "I've got special gifts for you and the rest of the Dead Six from the Council and me. Especially for you, Aaron. You wouldn't believe how much trouble the Misses and I had to endure to find every piece."

"You didn't," Tony gawked, not believing what he was hearing.

"We did," Nicholas answered, pulling out a mud-stained piano, "and you deserve something for the monumental amount of work you put in, Aaron. Every single piece, where it should be." I simply sat there, looking at the physical representation of one segment of the Christmas Truce. A memory that I held dear to my heart, for it was a literal Christmas Miracle. "If you would do the honors..."

I quickly walked up to the piano and inspected it. It felt whole, a feeling that couldn't be described by the words of mortals or most of the vast dictionaries of gods without shortchanging it. I quickly got a stool and set it in front of the piano, preparing myself to play it. Then Tony put a hand on my shoulder.

"So, Slick, let's show the world you're whole again," Tony smiled.

So I began playing...

---

* Think of them as the equivalent of the Werewolf units that the Nazis planned to deploy to make the Allies' occupation as hellish as possible and Hellsing's Letzte Batallion. While the 1st French Junta internal security and what would become Wolfenstein would wipe most of them out, a few would survive into the 2000s... before getting annihilated in body and soul for their crimes. You heard me, body and soul. I.e., no going to reincarnation, no going to the afterlife, just gone. To get that punishment, though, requires you to break some top-tier rules. Like 'attempting to revive the Mad God' or 'cause an apocalypse' tier.

 

[Aaron Fox]

First off, life has been constantly giving me grief over the last six months. My hours at my job have been unstable (fluctuating from barely enough to too little), trying to find a new job on top of writing, got new RAM for my desktop... which -after doing some troubleshooting- caused my desktop to need to go to the nearby shop for more delicate troubleshooting (guy is a miracle worker, even if his rates are $100/hr plus any parts... let's just say he's worth every cent), and my brain is going in three trillion different directions. Still, got this little number out... which is something for you folks.

This little side story is set during the Battle of the Holy Hills when the human vassal leaders show up to reinforce the remaining forces besieging the Holy Hills of Alnus and Remus. Here, we see some dynamics between the Empire's various human and non-human vassal states and how they perceive the situation, while also touching on the fact that these guys aren't idiots, incompetent, or fanatical. Why didn't I put it in the original Battle (later Siege) of the Holly Hills chapter? Because I was trying to keep my chapter lengths within 10k words for effective readability.

The two characters we'll see the most on the Gate side are canonical (Dulan of Elbe) and non-canonical (in this case, Great King* Samuel the Red Beard of Ardania), two of the more competent leaders of the entire continent. Dulan is a renowned general as much as a shrewd and competent king. At the same time, Samuel is not only the Great King of Ardania (with the required competency and political acumen that it implies for a mini-empire that ruled over humans and non-humans alike) but also an accomplished mage himself (sure, he's not on the same level as Cato and those similar to him, but he's still a force to be reckoned with).

While the various vassal states have an increasing hatred of the Empire (and those who have correctly read -i.e., accept that he's a realist who was the head diplomat of a Republic and The Prince is realism wrapped around insightful yet sarcastic wit and not the soundbites that butcher what he was trying to teach you- Machiavelli** will note this is the worst thing that the Empire could do), they know it holds their lands hostage, meaning they must send what the Empire considers a serious force or have their lands sundered in retribution. So, they had to march with a significant portion of their troops to the Holy Hills, leading to this.

---

10 Mille from the Holy Hills, Falmart Basecamp -21st of Iunius, 6729 of the Salderan Reformation Calendar

It had been a long three-and-a-half months getting to the Holy Hills. When two Holy Gates appeared on two separate hills, the Empire had made a call to arms for every vassal to send their armies to ensure that nothing from the other side broke out into the wider Empire. It had been four months since the initial legions went to the other side of those Gates, and what came out was pure irony. The Empire's veil of invincibility has been completely shattered, though the apparent death of that invincibility hasn't resonated well enough.

"By the gods," I -Great King Samuel the Red Beard- commented as I surveyed what used to be a force numbering 500 thousand soldiers scattered across the massive base camp. "I'm already not liking this at all, Dulan." Dulan's face was one of horror as he surveyed the forces here. Both of us were assigned as leaders of the vassal armies, and seeing the remnants of several dozen legions -imperial and vassal- was heartbreaking and horrific.

"I agree," Dulan replied, "this does not bode well for our forces." I nodded in agreement, as he knew my immediate mental assessment well. "We'll have to get to the Council Tent to see the full extent of the damage here and gather what little information the others can give us to produce a viable plan."

It was a short walk to the council tent, and the sight that awaited us was grim indeed. There were only a handful of broad-striped tribunes and various leaders of the demi-humans, nowhere near enough to command a force of 500,000... and they were all arguing.

"... and we've been trying!" the Orc general exclaimed, "Their defenses are highly effective despite their ad hoc nature, and they've got the areas around the hills zeroed in with whatever magical artillery they have. We've already lost almost a quarter of our forces in the last few assaults, and simply charging at them will not change things."

"Do you think I don't know that?" the lead broad-striped tribune slammed back, "We've got to keep these other-worlders pinned down so they can't get into the Empire proper! So far, besieging them is keeping them pinned, but if we are to succeed, we need to push them back to the other side." The various demi-human leaders couldn't argue with that bit of logic, as this battle resembled more of a naval invasion than anything. "So far, even illusion magic isn't helping us any."

"If anything, the few times we used illusion magic made them fight that much harder," the leader of the sirens sighed, "I mean, we did open up with the first assault on Remus Hill under an illusion roughly decuple its number. They unleashed such withering fire that we were only lucky to retreat with only a fifth of the initial force as fatalities." The other leaders sighed in agreement. "We've been lucky only to suffer a quarter of our force to their weapons thanks to illusion magic, but they can resupply and bring in more troops; we can't."

"I thought things were bad when we saw the state of the armies, but this is actually worse..." Dulan quietly commented as we continued to listen to the situation being parsed.

"Oh, King Dulan and Great King Samuel, sorry about the current state of affairs, but, as you may have noticed, things have gone to Hardy lately," the broad-striped tribune apologized, "The Legates were sent out to meet up with several legions sent to reinforce us two days ago." Surprisingly enough, Dulan and I met one of the legates in question on the way here, so that checks out.

"So, we've got the Lion of Elbe and the Wizard King of Ardania joining us," the Orc general sighed in relief, "New perspectives would do us a lot of good as we're at our wit's end trying to achieve victory."

"Only half a month into a siege, and we haven't gotten close?" I asked, "That doesn't bode well from what we've heard. Do you know how far you need to go before they send their magical artillery against you?" That put everyone in a tizzy.

"Well, we have no high-level mages in our ranks, but we did take some notes on the craters of the explosive magic they've used," the siren general answered before motioning a scribe to get the notes, "Though, apparently, they've been expanding the zone where they use their magical artillery." The scribe handed me the notes, and I frowned as I parsed through them. Diameters were roughly a factor of 7 from the average explosive spell at the minimum, with the largest recorded being approximately three orders of magnitude. In addition, metal fragments were recorded in the craters and wounds, indicating that these spells were designed to kill via a mixture of concussion and physical trauma.

"That is disconcerting," Dulan said as he looked at the pages I had already skimmed through, "I might not be a mage, but I understand magic enough that this shouldn't be possible." Dulan had taken the words out of my mind as I continued skimming through the data. "So, what have you tried to dislodge the other-worlders?"

"It would be far easier to tell you what we haven't tried yet," the orc general answered, "The forces on both hills have been countering all of our attempts so far with ruthless efficiency and well outside our range. Even our trebuchets don't have the range, and the few attempts to get them into range have been disasters. We've already lost ten teams and their trebuchets in our last attempt."

"That is bad news," I complained, "and it would explain why there are far fewer siege engineers than there should be. So, what is our current supply situation?" The map on the table had whatever earthworks the other-worlders dug etched across the holy hills like elaborate ant hills. This entire battle is starting to resemble a fusion of a naval invasion and a siege.

"I'm afraid we've only got enough food to last us another month and a half," the broad-striped tribune said, "When we tried to use our trebuchets, most of our alchemical weapon reserves were eliminated." ... that shouldn't be possible. Everyone keeps alchemical weapon stockpiles a fair distance from the siege engines that utilize them for safety reasons. However, given the power of the other-worlders' explosive magic, the script has been completely shredded. "Fortunately, we're not underwater regarding anything medical***. From what we've gathered, both other-worlder forces do not go after medical staff as long as their stature is visible, given the lack of fire when our medical staff went to retrieve the few wounded they could. Our scouts also saw what looked like their own medical staff sallying out in their armored wagons, looking for survivors."

"Now that is interesting information," Dulan commented as he read through the various reports given to him, "They put those who practice medicine on high stature and apparently give them protection." If these other-worlders are anything like us, then they probably have various rules regarding medical staff, given what we've seen... which is good for everyone because the last thing anyone wants is a good old plague ravaging the countryside. "With that in mind, we need to ensure what norms of war they will and won't respect."

"Are you suggesting that we... parley, Dulan?" the thick-striped tribune asked with disdain, "Has the Lion of Elbe gone soft in his old age?"

"Have you forgotten history?" Dulan replied, "We need to know what they consider taboo in combat lest we accidentally break it. May I remind you that Ardania's path to becoming a vassal would have been smoother had your ancestors not broken several taboos, or have you ignored that part of your history class?" The thick-striped tribune shuddered at the thought of being responsible for something akin to the Ardania War. "If they have taboos that ensure they fight without quarter, then we'll be doomed to annihilation. We must ascertain their limits before we trip over a taboo."

"To that end," I added, "We'll have two representatives of the vassal armies and the Empire each, escorted by eight men. One will be one of my high-level shield mages, and another will be a high-level healer. Outside of that, we must have people with nerves of steel, cool temperament, and an understanding that they are not to land the first blow." Dulan smirked, knowing that I was backing him up on his idea. "We need information, first and foremost, and the most relevant information now is their war taboos."

"... and the reason why they're here in the first place," the Orc commander budded in, "If the forces that went beyond the Gates caused this, we need to know." That, in particular, would be of immense help to us. Knowing the reasons why they want to kill you helps in understanding their thought process.

"That would be extremely helpful," the thick-striped tribune commented in agreement, "To be honest, this entire affair is extremely irregular now that the point has been raised. Normally, the Senate and the Emperor would have a joint session to declare war, but that hasn't happened yet."

"Now that is strange," Dulan contemplated, "things aren't adding up. Yet, we're faced with two unknown forces encroaching on the lands of the Empire." The thick-striped tribune nodded in agreement. "It's almost like there's something conspiratorial in our mist."

"That will have to wait, I'm afraid," I frowned as I signaled one of my scribes to get two of my best shield mages, "If what is implied is true, then things will be far more problematic for all of us..." With that, we prepared for the parley and the consequences.
_______________________

GATE Hilltop, Observation Post #112 [Alnus Hill]; June 21st, 2017 - 12:55AM (Japan Time)

"So, any movement from our medieval fantasy LARPers?" the American sergeant asked as he checked his radio for the twentieth time.

"... nothing yet... wait," the Japanese recon specialist answered, "I'm seeing a group of ten on horseback flying a white flag.****" Everyone in the squad quickly roused from their activities and readied their weapons. "From the looks of things, it might be surrender or parley."

"I see it too," the American sergeant stated as he looked through his binoculars, "I see what looks like a king and a tribune of some kind; can't tell if it's thick or thin striped, though." The American sergeant was using his military history lessons to the fullest. "Base Camp, this is OP-112; we've sighted what looks like a possible entourage on horseback looking to parley or surrender. Please advise."

"Base Camp to OP-112, repeat your last."

"We're seeing a possible entourage with a white flag on horseback for a parley or surrender," the American sergeant repeated, "From the looks of things, they're high-ranking officials with an escort." I kept my eyes on the group, ensuring they weren't up to any shenanigans.

"... Base Camp to OP-112, this is completely unexpected. We'll send a team to engage in parley. Orders are to provide overwatch and surveillance."

"Wilco," the American sergeant acknowledged, "We'll continue surveillance." The sergeant got off the radio, his face showing his perplexed thoughts on the situation, "Ishikawa, get the rest of the platoon on alert and observing." The Japanese recon specialist nodded as he put down the binoculars and went to get the rest of the platoon to stations. "Everyone else, I want as many eyes on those guys as possible. I want to know if they so much as twitch aggressively." The squad replied in a chorus of 'yes sir' as they got their scopes and reconnaissance equipment trained on the enemy.

"So, could we see an early end to this entire shitshow, sergeant?" asked one of the sergeant's subordinates.

"Given that we're dealing with Romans? No chance whatsoever. Remember, Romans lost two-fifths of their adult male population at the time in one battle and literally told the guy who did it, 'See you next year' without skipping a beat," the American sergeant answered, "and given how Rome operated, these guys are probably 'allies' they're throwing into the meatgrinder."
-----

Portal Patrol Waypoint Post #5-11 (outermost perimeter) [Remus Hill]; Roughly the same time

Reinhard frowned as he looked through his electronic reconnaissance unit*****, noting the mounted leaders and their entourage. "Well, damn, we've got a king and a broad-striped tribune in there," Reinhard tallied, "with an escort as well. If I were a betting man, the likely makeup of the escort would include a mage." Two of Reinhard's comrades nodded as they did their observations via their binoculars.

"... great. The few we faced two weeks back were already tough nuts to crack, and facing more is going to be problematic," Kimiko sighed, "Hell, one ARP described a mage taking a 128 HE round to the face and still able to fight." Everyone shuddered at the truthful statement, given what they've seen some of the mages do. "Is the ERU showing any hidden friends?"

"No," Reinhard answered, "there are just 10 dudes out there waving a flag of parley. Kimiko, get command on the horn and tell them to prepare an envoy team. I've got a feeling that they'll not try perfidy shenanigans on us."

"While I share in your sentiment, history is a little fuzzy on the subject of perfidy in the ancient and medieval world," Klaus commented as he watched with his binoculars, "Though, given the tendency of accounts making perfidy a surefire way to get everyone to be paranoid of your ass at the minimum, we might have a better chance for an optimistic path this round." Everyone hoped it was optimistic because this situation would cause so many problems.

"Just got off the radio," Kimiko said as she grabbed the StG-92S from its perch, "General Forsythe is going to lead the envoy group, given the apparent makeup of the envoys out there."

"Now that is going to be problematic," Reinhard complained. That means we'll be working octuple hard. I hope Steve will be part of the envoy team because, given the circumstances, there are only a few people any sane person would trust with the general's life."

"So, no Hauptmann Aaron Neumann?" Klaus half-joked.

"I would trust the guy with the general's life, but he has the most schizophrenic luck a man can get without guaranteeing getting everyone around him killed," Reinhard answered, "I've read some of his files, and I swear that good and bad luck follow him around like lost puppies."

"Do we want to know?" Kimiko timidly asked, knowing the man's reputation.

"... let's just say with my rank, I got to see deeper into his mission files than most, and to say that it is a shitshow is understating it," Reinhard answered with a shudder, "Sure, there's plenty of black ink, even with my rank, but I'm surprised that the man hasn't committed suicide already." Then, he looked at the others in a somewhat conspiratorial tone. "Don't tell him this, but every time I see him, I want to walk up to him, hug him, tell him everything is going to be all right, then make sure he gets a God damn vacation. I've been in the military for longer than he's been alive, and he looks like a veteran of the worst fronts thrice my age."

"It's good to know that one of my best friends has someone who would do that," a new voice said, "Still, your attempt would be for naught, but he'll appreciate the gesture." Everyone turned to see the 2.2-meter-tall unit of a woman, a woman who would have been compared to ancient fertility-war deities by people of ages past.

"You've got to be kidding," Kimiko complained, "how did they drag you back to frontline duties, Kiesha? I thought they got you chained to some hospital in Saim."

"My credentials," Kiesha answered, "combined with the paranormal shenanigans that have been happening. The higher-ups want to be prepared for anything, so the Dead Six got orders to deploy." That got everyone but Kiesha spewing expletives at a rate that even a sailor would blush.

"... wait, you said they want to prepare for anything," Reinhard contemplated, "What has gotten our leaders hinging their bets?"

"Sorry, classified," Kiesha answered flatly before returning to her peppy tone. "If it makes you feel any better, the fact that Aaron is here is a sign that things aren't that bad, well, at least from our end." Everyone looked at Kiesha in confusion. "Let's just say that in the paranormal world, Aaron's position must be respected."

"... alright then, let's just get back to keeping an eye on these folks," Klaus suggested. Everyone else nodded and went to work.
-----

5km from the Foot of Alnus Hill - 1:30 AM (Japan Time)

The Humvees slowly skidded to a stop a fair distance from the edge of the deployed earthworks, and the crews kept their wits with them as they constantly searched for signs of perfidy. Their opposites started to dismount, keeping their wits about them, likely continually searching for signs of perfidy.

"So, what do you think is going to happen?" Major Hammond asked as he and General Hazama exited the command Humvee.

"... at this point, I don't know," Hazama answered, "I mean, we're here because of a magical gate, fighting literal mages, wizards, and fantasy folk on another planet entirely. At this point, anything can happen." Hammond couldn't argue with the Japanese man's logic, as the US and Japan are literally fighting in uncharted territory here. "And that's why we've got enough firepower to stop anything less than armored assault."

"Well, that means we'll see what happens when we get there," Hammond remarked as he motioned the protection detail to escort them towards the middle, noting that their opposites did the same. The two groups walked until they were roughly 25 meters apart, close enough that talking was possible while far enough that no one got stabbed easily.

"As a representative of the Holy Empire of Alnus, we come to you for parley," the man who is clearly a thick-striped tribune stated, "My name is Secundus Arsinius Agrippa, the lead thick-striped tribune of the 55th Legion, and my associate's name is Dulan of Elba, king of the Kingdom of Elba."

"My name is Kōichirō Hazama, General of the Japanese Self-Defense Force, and this is Major James Hammond of the United States," Hazama stated in his best Latin, noting that one of his opposite's escorts was furiously writing things down on parchment on top of what looked like a clipboard, "We represent Japan and the United States, respectively."

That was when Dulan motioned one of the escorts and whispered something before the woman took out a bag and literally started digging out a table set via something that looked straight out of Disney's The Sword in the Stone.

"What the flying fuck," one of Hammond's escorts exclaimed in a hushed tone, "Is it just me, or did she pull an entire table set out of her bag?" Hammond didn't correct the man because he simply stated what everyone else was thinking.

"It is customary," Dulan explained, "that the party initiating the parley bring the furnishings, especially if they're going to take a while." Hammond raised an eyebrow at the statement. "A common courtesy and a sign of respect." Dulan noticed the contained faces of astonishment and surprise at the sight the mage was producing, as if it were impossible to them.

"Sorry," Hazama apologized, "it's just we're strangers to this land and, well, back home no one can pull a table set out of their bag." The tension eased slightly with that statement. "However, we appreciate the fact that you're willing to furnish us with acceptable stationery." Hazama, Hammond, and the escorts looked on as the mage put the final touches on the setup.

"... I see," Dulan commented in an understanding tone, "If you would take a seat on your side of the table, we can begin." Hazama and Hammond -clearly out of their element- slowly walked towards the table, their escorts shuffling around behind them. After Hazama and Hammond sat down, Dulan and Secundus took their seats while the mage took out a quill and paper.

"This is different," Hammond started, "We half-expected that you would have just continued the siege instead of doing this. I'll have to admit, the leaders of the siege up to this point did surprisingly well despite the circumstances." Dulan and Secundus chuckled a little.

"Given the circumstances, that's high praise," Dulan responded, "but alas, we're not here to share pleasentries."

"That's sadly the case," Hazama calmly answered back, "So, let's begin with why you're willing to parley..."

5km from the Foot of Remus Hill - 4:25 AM (Berlin Time)

"... and that is how things evolved so far," Forsythe answered in his best Saldarian.

Samuel's face was mired with a frown as he absorbed the information given. While Samuel was skeptical, the info given added the finishing touches to a rather conspiratorial picture. He looked to the thick-striped tibune that accompanied him, and even he was dismayed about the situation.

"This is not what I thought would happen during my last year as a tribune," the thick-striped tribune, a man named Proculus of the powerful Scipio family, commented in a disparaging tone, "to think that a conspiracy would inadvertently reveal itself right in our laps." Samuel was in muted shock, as he knew the implications of what everyone here had just heard. "There are only a handful of people within the Empire that can pull this sort of stunt, and fewer still with the means and resources to do so, and many of them are not pleasant company in the least."

"What sort of company are we talking about?" Forsythe asked, "Because, if what you're implying is true, then my superiors will need to be informed."

Proculus looked at Samuel for a moment, then he answered, "Several of the candidates for this conspiracy are either close allies to the Imperial Family or its members, and both would be trouble." Forsythe knew what Proculus said between the lines, and he didn't like what it represented: it goes all the way to the top. "With that in mind, we're going to..."

"Proculus," the barrier mage interrupted, "I've just received word from our mages at camp that scouts to our rear have identified four legions coming this way, led by Legates Titus and Tertis."

"I see," Proculus sighed, "Tell them that, when the Legates get into camp, we're parlaying with the otherworlders, and they've given us some fascinating information about this whole affair, alongside their taboos." The barrier mage nodded as she used the communications crystal to relay the message. "Depending on how fortune greets us, either this is going to be a boon or a curse."
-----

Falmart Basecamp, Halfway into the 10th Hour (i.e., 4:30PM)

"... and that's what we've gained in terms of information so far," the mage reported, "In the grand scheme of things, the entire situation here stinks." Legate Tertis frowned as he processed the information given to him. This was worrying, as it meant that two of the most competent leaders of the vassal states were likely discovering that this wasn't entirely above board. Tertis mentally cursed at this, as parlaying to get taboo information is well within their parameters of assisting the Empire.

"That is worrying," Tertis sighed, using the acting skills his grandfather had insisted he learn, in addition to the usual skills of debate and rhetoric, while mentally cursing his luck, "It would also mean that there's a conspiracy afoot, which is the last thing we need." I quickly nodded to my praetorian to prepare the legions to... get rid of the witnesses... while I read what had been uncovered by two of the most dangerous vassal leaders in the history of the Empire. The two otherworlder forces' taboos are pretty similar, and some of their taboos are entirely common sense, like no harming medical staff or those under their care. Others... are more extreme versions of common taboos, like no mistreatment of prisoners (though, in the otherworlders' case, it's the common soldier on up), forbidding the use of disease as a weapon, a long list of protected buildings (including places of worship and medical facilities), and minimizing the suffering of those not in military service. Then there are the ones like slavery (how could their economy function without slaves or serfs?!?) and genocide being illegal (how would they deal with things like Cursed minotaurs?!?). The otherworlders are... uncanny... all in all.

"So, what will be our next step?" the mage asked.

"Well, we can't let them get into the greater Empire, that's for sure," Tertis expertly conned, "They've done enough damage as it is. If they press further, then the damage to the economy will be incalculable. So the only way forward is to ensure that they're pinned here."

"... but that is looking more and more impossible by the day," the mage countered, "It won't be long before they could hit our camp with their weapons, and once that happens, it'll be all over..."

"Yes, it would," Tertis agreed as he pulled his special dagger and cut the throat of the mage.

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* Ok, here is some backstory of why the leader of Ardania is always called the Great King. It dates back some 650 years to when a sovereign, Leonard van Issinbard, also known as Leonard the First, united Ardania. Leonard the First wanted the position to be called something plain, like Majesty (leaving the Great as a title of excellence); however, everyone kept calling him Great King Leonard, despite his and several generations of descendants' efforts to squash it. Why did Leonard the First want the Great King not to be the title? Because he (and many of his descendants) knew it would cause a complex situation with future throne-holders, which became true with Leonard the Eleventh.

However, in Leonard the Eleventh's defense, he had nothing to do, which went against his lineage's innate desire to fix problems. The economy? If the Empire showed up during his reign, Ardania's economy would be the envy of the continent and thus become the Empire's next target. Politics? Nothing needed serious politicking, and the worst his predecessor had was a bunch of patent fights. Defense? Even the usual Ardanian nuances were well under control at this time, and the Empire (which was busy conquering what would become the Southern Territories at the time) wouldn't show up for another 75 years after Leonard the Eleventh's downfall and the short inter-king period that followed. All in all, it was quiet for a fantasy medieval kingdom... which was precisely the problem.

Depending on which school of Ardanian historians you ask, Leonard the Eleventh either did Ardania a favor by causing the storm that the quiet was the prelude to early (not as far-fetched as one would believe, as Ardanian history had several instances where Ardania being quiet was a prelude to a significant upheaval, and the quieter Ardania is, the worse the upheaval would be, an example being the peace (nicknamed 'The Long Peace') that both Leonard the Sixth and Leonard the Seventh presided over, which ended with a literal daemon (not to be mixed up with the demi-humans type designated as demons) invasion during the middle of Leonard the Seventh's reign) or was so consumed with his inadequacies and short-sightedness that he proved why the title Great King is terrible as the standard title. However, a minority of historians argue that the reality lies closer to the middle of the two extremes, as his diaries were released to the chroniclers and historians of Ardania so they could understand what led to the summoning of the greater daemon.

** Note, the often repeated quote about whether it is better to be feared or loved has been butchered over the centuries, painting Machiavelli as an amoral monster of a politician (... the funny reality is that he's more technocratic and realist than amoral, though he states that being willing to be amoral in your job as a leader is rather prudent (just in moderation)... what he considered to be one of the best tools for a job of a leader is history and thus understanding, of all things, and have underlings that can do their job as well). The real lesson of the quote with its whole context, should be that it's preferred to have both, fear if you can't have both, and above all else, never be hated... with the implication of the latter being that if you are hated, then those who hate you will do everything they can to make sure you're six feet under. In addition, in Italy, there's Machiavelli and Machiavello; the former is someone who understood what Machiavelli was trying to teach people, while the latter is the term they call anyone that is a curvature of Machiavelli.

*** As a historical note, the Romans were one of the big-league cultures in medicine. They not only went after diseases as they broke out but also heavily invested in preventive measures like preventive medicine, nutrition (probably why they used lead so much despite the problems it comes with; they had, comparatively, phenomenal nutrition to counter them in addition to allowing mineral scaling to cover the lead), their water and sewage networks, and garbage collection. Oh, and they understand the need for things like aesthetics, too, meaning their surgery and amputation survival rates were incredible for the time. That ended in 160 AD when the Antonine Plague happened (and given the evidence, this plague was either Smallpox or Measles), which continued for 15 years. The Roman medical community threw itself at this plague and also died trying to save people suffering from it (this is not hyperbole; the Antonine Plague literally killed off the medical community of Rome and its provinces, and with it all the institutional knowledge). The Antonine Plague killed somewhere between a quarter to a third of the Roman Empire's population. Apocalyptic doesn't even begin to describe the aftereffects of this plague. The economy essentially collapsed, setting in motion the events that led to the 3rd-century crisis, the Fall of Rome, and the medieval period. I've assumed this 'lost legion' came to Falmart before the Antonine Plague, which would have given them the best chances of survival.

**** No one knows when the entire 'white flag means surrender/parley' thing started, with records going well into the millennia BC/BCE (the oldest being 4,000 BC/BCE from my readings). Hell, one of the most common unspoken rules of war was concerning surrender and parley (and sieges). This would be surprising to many moderners because of the brutality of combat in antiquity and ancient eras of human history. Yeah, those are things that come up in the research.

***** Also called the ERU for short. Essentially, it's a combination of a laser rangefinder, LLTV, and thermograph, with newer models incorporating AESA and PESA radar sets. They're similar to the Soviet/Russian man-portable radars if they've got the AESA and PESA radar sets, though not man-portable enough that you can fit them to your emplaced weapons. While not as powerful as vehicle-born sets, the infantry sets are still a nasty surprise, and that is why even (modern) infantry armor of the Iron Pact timeline has a radar warning system as standard.

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Yeah, I tried to make our Falmart locals not be idiots. This leads to the realization that a crime has been committed, and with the two legates being 'in' on the conspiracy/crime, well, things will get messy. It also ensures that politics isn't too heavily in favor of the two Earths, as the more experienced operators are still alive.