A week after their strange encounter at the outpost, Sir Edric's carefully written letter—sealed with the mark of Drakensport—arrived at Drachenhalm. The message had been carried by a large, trained courier bird, its talons gripping the small tube containing the report.
The letter was delivered directly to King Aldred IV during a royal assembly. Chamberlain Hadrien unrolled the parchment and read aloud before the court of nobles.
The letter described the strange "barbarians" beyond the frontier. It spoke of their small wooden "fortress," their black rods that seemed harmless, their lack of swords or armor, and yet their ability to conjure light greater than any fire or magic. Edric had also written about the "village" outside the fortress, where commoners walked with small glowing orbs in their hands, and where the night seemed banished entirely by strange, powerful lights.
The court erupted into murmurs and debate.
Lord Brenwick leaned forward, his voice smug. "So these 'barbarians' play at being powerful. Lights, sticks, and moving gates. I say we crush them. Their so‑called weapons are harmless, and their lack of armor proves their weakness."
Lord Halvar shook his head. "You speak too quickly, Brenwick. This letter reeks of mystery. These men wield no swords, yet they stand fearless before our knights. They command strange fireless light and roads smoother than any we can build. If this is weakness, it is a strange kind indeed."
Lady Myra spoke sharply, silencing some of the murmurs. "And do you not see the mention of the 'steel dragons'? If these creatures truly belong to them, then we face a power beyond our comprehension."
Lord Merrow smirked, eyes glinting with ambition. "Or perhaps the dragons are merely tools they serve. If they are masters of such beasts, then all the more reason to bring them to heel. Imagine such power under Drakensport's banner."
Lady Arlenne scoffed. "Fools, the lot of you. Power like this is not seized by brute force. If they are capable of such wonders, we should approach them as allies, not conquerors."
The chamber filled with arguments—some nobles viewing the outpost as the home of primitive barbarians with fancy tricks, others seeing them as dangerous wielders of advanced magic.
King Aldred IV remained silent as the debate raged. Finally, he raised his hand, and the room fell quiet.
"So," he said slowly, voice calm but sharp, "some of you see a weak people to conquer. Others see a power to be feared. I see an opportunity."
The nobles looked at him expectantly.
"We will not act in haste," the king continued. "Edric and his men will remain with these strangers. We will watch, and we will learn. And if the rumors are true that the steel dragons belong to them then Drakensport must decide carefully whether to treat them as foes… or as gods."
The room buzzed with unease.
For the first time, even the most arrogant nobles felt a faint chill.
Weeks passed after Edric's report reached Drachenhalm. The nobles continued their endless debates, but a new rumor began to spread across the outer villages—
The "steel dragon," the terrifying metal beast that had once roared across the skies, had not been seen since the knights' encounter with the strange barbarians.
In the villages near Redham, peasants whispered to each other at night.
"Perhaps the dragon belonged to those strangers," one farmer muttered over his cup of ale.
"Or perhaps," another said nervously, "they killed it. Maybe they feared our knights and priests, and so they hid it away."
The priests in the villages saw the phenomenon as divine providence. "The strangers have stayed their dragon's hand," one preacher declared. "Truly, they must recognize the power of our faith!"
In the capital, this news fueled even greater division.
Lord Brenwick grinned broadly at the court. "Do you see? The dragon has vanished! These barbarians quake at the might of Drakensport! We should march now, before they regain courage!"
Lady Arlenne rolled her eyes. "Or perhaps they simply have no reason to show their power. A beast like that is not easily hidden. Do not fool yourselves—if it belongs to them, then they merely wait and watch us."
Halvar leaned forward in thought. "Or… they are not enemies at all. Perhaps they have stayed the dragon to show peace."
The speculation grew rampant. Was the dragon theirs? Had it been sent away? Was it even real to begin with?
King Aldred sat quietly on his throne, fingers steepled, as the nobles argued. He had not missed the implication—if the strangers truly commanded the dragon and chose not to use it, then they were exercising restraint.
That, more than anything, unsettled him.
If they possess such power but do not flaunt it… what else do they hold in reserve?
---
At dawn, dust rose from the road leading to Outpost Sierra‑17 as a small convoy approached—three Aurion soldiers and two linguists, all riding borrowed horses.
It had been a deliberate choice. High command had ordered that no vehicles be used to bring the linguists the final stretch; the risk of overwhelming the knights with "moving wagons without horses" was too high.
Inside the outpost, Sergeant Ramirez received the radio call first.
"Convoy Sierra‑Linguist approaching. No vehicles in sight, as per instructions. ETA five minutes."
Ramirez exhaled in relief. "Good. Get them inside quickly."
The gates opened, and the knights turned their heads as the riders entered the compound.
Sir Edric narrowed his eyes slightly. "More of them… but they ride horses, not strange beasts."
Father Alric tilted his head. "Perhaps they are not so different from us after all."
The linguists dismounted, greeted by Ramirez and the outpost commander.
"Glad you made it," Ramirez said quietly. "Remember, we keep it simple. No vehicles running in front of them, no heavy equipment. They're already on edge."
One linguist, Dr. Helena Voss, adjusted her satchel and glanced toward the knights. "Understood. We've prepared basic pictograms and phonetic lists. It's not much, but it's a start."
Another linguist, Arman Reyes, added, "We've also reviewed every sound they've made on the footage. If we're lucky, we can at least exchange names, places, and simple intentions."
The knights, watching from across the compound, whispered among themselves.
"More barbarians," Caldus muttered with disdain.
Edric, however, kept his gaze fixed on the newcomers. "No… these ones seem different. They carry no weapons, no armor. Perhaps they are scribes or magisters of their kind."
Ramirez gestured for the linguists to follow him toward a shaded area set up for the meeting. "Alright. Let's make history. Slowly."
High command's final order still echoed in Ramirez's mind: Do not let them see vehicles running. Don't give them anything to fear.
So the jeeps and trucks remained hidden under tarps, engines cold, while the outpost maintained the illusion of a simple encampment.
But everyone there knew—this was only the beginning.
Under the shade of a canvas awning inside Outpost Sierra‑17, a table had been set with parchment, charcoal, and simple pictograms the linguists had prepared.
Dr. Helena Voss sat across from Father Alric and Sir Edric, flanked by Sergeant Ramirez and two armed guards who stood a respectful distance back. The knights kept their helmets off, their expressions wary but curious.
Helena tapped her chest. "Helena."
Alric, understanding the gesture, did the same. "Alric."
Edric followed. "Edric."
Arman Reyes leaned forward, drawing a crude map on the parchment—one circle for the outpost, another larger one for the nearby settlement. He pointed to the first circle. "We… live here." He then gestured to the settlement outside. "People… live there."
Alric studied the drawing and nodded slowly. He repeated the words in his own tongue, pointing at each symbol as he spoke. Helena wrote down the sounds phonetically, matching them to meanings.
After several minutes of trial and error, they managed to form a few basic exchanges.
Edric gestured broadly to the sky, then mimed an explosion. "Steel… dragon?" he asked haltingly.
Helena glanced at Ramirez, then carefully shook her head. "No harm. No attack."
Edric looked unconvinced but didn't press further.
Arman then attempted to convey their purpose. He pointed to himself and Helena, then gestured around with open palms. "We… here… new land."
He drew a circle for Aurion on the parchment and a jagged line, then a larger landmass representing the new world. "Before… there." He pointed to the smaller circle. "Now… here."
Alric's brow furrowed. "You… came from another land?"
Helena nodded slowly, mimicking movement across the map. "Yes. Big… change."
The knights exchanged uneasy glances.
Alric spoke to Edric in hushed tones. "If they speak truth, they are not of our world. Perhaps the dragon was theirs after all."
Edric's eyes lingered on Helena, then the soldiers behind her. "Yet they claim peace. And still… they do not seem afraid of us."
Back in Solaira City, the feed from the outpost streamed live to the command center. President Velez and the Senate leaned forward, watching every broken word exchanged, every hesitant gesture.
For the first time since their arrival in this world, the Aurion Republic had finally begun to speak to the people of Drakensport.
It wasn't perfect. The words were fragmented, the meanings imperfect.
But the first bridge between the two worlds had been built.
Father Alric, encouraged by the slow progress in communication, tapped his chest again. "Alric." Then he raised his hands toward the sky, miming prayer. "God… faith."
He drew a simple symbol on the parchment—a sun-like figure, surrounded by rays. He pointed at it, then at himself. "We… spread… this."
Helena glanced at Arman, then back at Alric. She understood enough to realize what he meant. She nodded slowly, writing down the words phonetically. "Faith. Religion. Gospel."
Edric added, gesturing outward as if toward distant lands. "We… travel. We… bring faith… to all."
The linguists paused, carefully exchanging looks. Ramirez's expression hardened slightly, and he tilted his head toward the camera.
In Solaira City, inside the Presidential Emergency Operations Center, President Velez and the Senate watched the feed in silence.
Elena Choi whispered, "So it's true… everything we saw in that footage wasn't random brutality. It was forced conversion."
General Delos folded his arms. "We already suspected as much. But now they've said it themselves."
Another senator muttered, "If these are the ones commanding the knights and priests… and the "steel dragons" really belong to us… then they'll either fear us as gods—or see us as demons to be purged."
Velez stayed quiet for a long moment, watching the priest's gestures.
Finally, he said calmly, "So far, they see us as barbarians. That might be to our advantage. But we cannot show weakness. If they think we can be converted or conquered, they will try to 'save' us."
The room stayed silent, the weight of his words sinking in.
Back at the outpost, Helena tried carefully to explain, using gestures and simple words. She pointed to herself and Arman, then gestured to the ground. "We… people. Peace. No fight."
Alric gave a kind smile, as though speaking to children. "Peace… is good. But all must know the truth."
Edric said nothing, but his eyes lingered on the soldiers and their strange weapons.
He was no fool—whatever these strangers lacked in swords and armor, they held power he could not yet understand.
And yet, in the back of his mind, one thought refused to fade.
If these people refuse the faith… what will the Church demand we do?
---
Dr. Helena Voss exchanged glances with Arman Reyes and Sergeant Ramirez. They quickly sketched a new set of pictograms on the parchment—one showing two groups sitting at a table, and another showing two hands shaking.
Helena pointed to the drawings. "We… meet. You… us. Speak… leaders." She then tapped her chest. "We… have many gods. Many faiths. All… free."
She gestured outward with open palms, mimicking variety and choice. "Different. But… all allowed."
Alric tilted his head, trying to follow. "Many gods? Many faiths?" He looked at Edric, baffled. "They have no single god?"
Edric frowned deeply. "A people without unity in faith is a people without order."
Helena then drew a final pictogram: a symbol of parchment with a seal. "Agreement. Paper. Sign." She mimed signing with her hand.
Arman added in broken words, pointing at Alric and Edric. "You… spread… but… after… leaders… talk. Decide."
Alric understood enough to grasp the intent—permission, rules, agreements before their faith could spread.
He gave a polite nod but said to Edric in their tongue, "These people are strange indeed. They do not worship one god, yet they live together. Perhaps their laws are stronger than faith."
Caldus scoffed quietly. "Or they are weak, each clinging to their own false idols."
Edric didn't answer. His eyes were still fixed on the soldiers—men who carried strange black rods instead of swords, who lacked armor but stood as firmly as any knight.
Back in Solaira City, Elena Choi leaned back in her seat. "This is our chance. If they agree to a formal delegation, we buy time—time to prepare, time to understand them better."
President Velez nodded slightly. "Exactly. We can't forbid them outright; that could be seen as provocation. But we can insist on rules they must follow. If they break them, then we'll decide our next move."
General Delos added grimly, "Let's hope they don't see our diplomacy as weakness. Because if they think we can be saved, the next time we meet might not be so peaceful."
At the outpost table, Helena pushed the pictogram of the handshake toward Alric and Edric, her expression calm but firm.
"Leaders… talk. Decide. Together."
Alric placed a hand on the parchment, nodding slowly. "We will… speak. With our king."
Edric, however, said nothing—his thoughts already on what their faith would demand if these strangers rejected their god.