Libertatis Imperium (Gate)

[charclone]

Even if she still had a home to go to, the portal, or 'Gate' as the elves called it, had disappeared. Her parents were dead. Her village gone. For all she knew, Hellas could have been drowned by Poseidon. So, she stayed with the elves.

It took her many months to learn the language, but she did so.

They were kind, unageing, and skilled. They were an ancient people, with strange gods, and stranger traditions. Yet, they welcomed her. The young one, that looked to be about her own age when she arrived, was in fact older than her, yet remained looking younger as they grew up.

They lived a simple life. There was a city, but there were no kings like she knew of. No soldiers coming to collect taxes, just the occasional traders and priests.

Yet, there were dangers.

Strange creatures that flew, others that crawled and slithered, like out of the stories the priests used to tell.

The elves fought them, with bow and spear.

She refused to be vulnerable again.

She started copying them, as the warriors and hunters trained.

At one point, as she passed her sixteenth year of life, she asked why one warrior took a stance that they did. The warrior struggled to explain it. It caused a great deal of discussion, for they each had their own stance. There was no teacher, instead, they learned, relying on the magic of their healers, and their own longevity, yet when she asked, and they saw her learning at a faster rate than any of them had, some refused to answer any of her questions. Yet, there were others all too willing to answer questions, to experiment and compare.

By the time of her twenty-second year, she had learned to fight with bow, spear, sword, shield and the strange knifes that the elves enemies favoured.

She was no master, she knew. She could wield them, but in a fight, she fought dirty to win.

The elves approved. Victory was life and survival. Fighting was not a place for mercy. It was a dirty thing, something only done when necessary, but when it was, it was taken all the way.

Her first fight had been a minor skirmish, at twenty years of age.

The long-eared warriors of the elves' rivals raided the hunting party she was with. A handful had been injured, but no one was killed, and the foe remained at distance, mocking them with their war cries.

The first fight she drew blood in was when she was twenty-five. It was almost her last. It should have been her last.

She awoke with a start, hearing the war cries and chants.

She had heard rumours that other villages had been attacked, people dragged off into the night to be sacrificed to the long-earned warrior's goddess, a god of the hunt.

She found those rumours terrifyingly true that night.

They spent hours dancing around fires surrounding the village, mocking and threatening the elves in equal measure, just out of bowshot.

Then, as a terrifying mass, they charged. Gold on their bodies glittered, and the fire cast intimidating shadows as they charged.

The girl, now a woman, grabbed her bow and spear, joining the desperate defence.

Her friend, too young in the elves' eyes to fight, hid, watching her friend.

The battle was short.

The long-earned preferred short, sudden bursts of violence, before using their powerful legs to vanish into the night.

The elves were ill-suited to this sort of warfare, preferring slow, careful battles.

Arrows fired, depleting rapidly.

The charging berserkers didn't care for those that fell, leaping over them as they closed. A few returned fire with their shorter, less powerful bows.

The woman screamed as she braced with others against the charge.

It hit like a thunderbolt.

Her spear shattered, as one warrior died on it.

Another lunged around the falling spear and body, a wicked looking knife poised to stab.

The woman's own knife was torn from its sheath, traded from a merchant for this very purpose.

Against one who was familiar with it, and had trained with it since childhood, the woman may well have been unarmed.

The warrior's blade punctured her shoulder, as hers was battered out of her hand.

She felt her back hit the ground as the blade was raised to strike her throat.

The world slowed to a crawl.

She saw more warriors streaming past and over the shattered defenders. Some stayed to finish off the wounded, others dragged them away into the night.

Her friend was undefended.

"My, aren't you a curiosity." A voice said. "A stranger to this world, who caused a change in elven culture, even if it was only in one village. Yet… I think my people are too soft. They have gone unchallenged, and your story… is boring, were you to die here. Give my people a challenge, and I shall grant you a boon. A great boon."

The woman couldn't answer, but she didn't need to.

"Then rise, demigod of the Huntress. Show my people why they need their blades sharp."

The woman felt the wound in her shoulder heal.

She caught the blade as it fell towards her throat.

The warrior's wrist was… easy to snap. She found it suddenly very easy to push the warrior off herself.

Struck by a sudden thought, she turned around and rushed to the hut she shared.

The warrior in front of it was only just forcing the door open when she struck.

The strange-eared warrior woman dropped, her head swinging in an unnatural fashion from her neck, her spear dropping from nerveless fingers.

Her friend gazed up at her from the crack in the door.

The woman picked up the fallen spear, ready to defend the warriors, to protect what little family she had gained.

She found the battle in a lull.

Many warriors from both sides stared at her, some edging away.

One stepped forward. This long-eared warrior was richly decorated, her spear tipped by a massive dragon tooth, clasped by gold and steel, and richly decorated.

They stared at each other a moment before the warrior let loose a bloodcurdling scream and charged.

The woman, for a moment, compared her strength to ancient Heracles, before she used her spear as a staff.

The wood came down on the warrior's hands, grasping the spear, making her drop it in pain and surprise.

She sidestepped, breaking off her charge, and danced away. Her knife came out, as she yelled to the glory of the Huntress.

The voice she had heard laughed at the prayers.

"I was once their queen, but they chose to follow a weakling… before I attained godhood and set them right."

The warrior charged again.

But this time the woman was ready.

Her spear stabbed, with a strength and swiftness no mortal could have achieved.

The richly decorated warrior died, as she was disembowelled.

The warriors watching moaned.

Many uttered prayers, and the long eared-foe began to retreat.

 

[charclone]

Princess Pina had a basic idea of how to arrange her defence.

Her knights would act as a reserve, cycling out the militia as they tired. It was a plan that had worked so far, letting her blood her knights, keep the walls and gates under her control, and keep the enemy from being able to crush any point that they attacked. Neither side had the numbers to attack more than two points and force a breakthrough.

It was a simple tactic, reliable.

It was also predictable.

The mercenaries, unlike the two noble ladies, had no compunction against working with each other. Let the nobles figure out who won, and if it came to blows, well, that meant more coin. They were in it for the money, after all.

Many were ex-legionaries, or had retired from military service across Falmart, joining together for their love of coin, and not truly knowing how not to be a soldier.

That meant that their commander in one camp, when he replaced the former officer who had failed to take the city, was able to recognise the defender's inexperience. He reached out to the other camp's mercenaries. It took little effort to convince them to time their attack.

Alone, neither side could amass a large enough body to press multiple parts of the wall. Together, they could crush Italica's reduced militia with numbers alone.

They didn't count on the NATO forces.

Pina originally wanted to station the Canadian Armed Forces at the worst hit gate, but had shifted her opinion of them in the early planning. The radios could permit vastly superior coordination.

Major Johnston agreed to station four fireteams at four key points, but the remainder of his troops, numbering another four fireteams, would act as an additional reserve.

The Battle of Italica was not a Waterloo, or a Kursk.

It was not a clash of armies, with the result hanging in the balance, or the battle where a myth ended.

It was a Castle Itter. A Shiroyama.

It was a politically significant battle, but its conclusion was already forgone. It was the last major battle fought involving NATO forces, officially, and the Saderan Empire.

The mixed mercenaries, house troops, suborned Saderan soldiers, and traitor Italican militia attacked the city, thoughts of plunder, victory, and triumph, unaware of the brutal reality.

Inside, they would find just how badly they were outmatched.

Outside, they did not have an inkling of the massive hammer, coming from land and air, to crush them.




Tara glanced at the watch Richard had given her, unable to wear it with his armour.

'Has it really only been two hours?' She pondered. 'It feels like its nearly sunrise, not just after midnight.'

"Your highness, the south gate has collapsed. Its holding for now, partly due to the burning remains, but the militia there is requesting reinforcements." A messenger said to the Saderan Princess.

It had started with an attack on that gate, a covered wagon being used to transport oil to it and was then set alight. The reports quickly streamed in afterwards. Assaults on the west and east gates, then the north. The northern wall was under attack, as several people tried to scale it with rickety ladders.

Tara was not ashamed to admit she took some pleasure in Pina's distress at the news. Though she did not wish the girl any actual harm.

"I've already sent the rest of the Red Roses to the east gate… Major, can I ask you to send your forces?" Pina stumbled over the English word.

"I'll take a squad to the north wall position that's under attack as well." He agreed.

Pina chewed her lip as her reserves were bled away incredibly fast.

Tara noted that Edgar had been looking rather uncomfortable. He had been speaking a great deal with the mage, Lelie, about protocol, apparently trying to figure out a way to make suggestions, without insulting her, while still using the mage as a translator. It would seem he had given up.

Richard's place around the map of the city made it difficult for the Major to ask him to translate.

"Edgar should be quick." Richard said encouragingly in Saderan, head once again helmeted. "Fortunately, we just need to hold out a little longer."

"While that is true sir Richard, I do not believe we can hold the gates long enough." Sir Grey said, frowning. "Princess, I believe the command post may need to provide assistance. It would benefit moral, and… Sir Richard's people are not, I think, going to like having to clear the city of foes, even with our assistance."

"You make a good point sir Grey. Sir Richard, Lady Tara, Sir Norma, Lady Hamilton, ready your weapons." Pina set her jaw. "Hamilton, please fetch my sword, and rally the rest of whatever we have left."

Richard was silent for a moment.

"Do you have a helmet, your highness?"

Tara bit her tongue to keep from laughing at the expression on Pina's face. She snorted upon catching the look of resignation mixed with embarrassment on Sir Grey's face.

"My face, unobscured… ah…" She stuttered for a moment before clearing her throat. "That is… it improves morale."

Grey sighed.

"I've tried to teach her the lesson… but I can only go so far." He admitted.

"Well…" Richard glanced at her. "I hope you at least have a shield, unless you fight two-handed. My compliments to your bravery."

Tara revelled in the Saderan Princess' embarrassment as she put her own helmet on, sourced from the spoils taken after the revolt at Alnus.

 

[ATP]

Classical problem with average fantasy - dude/lass in armour with sword - but witchout schield or helmet.
Well,it could be worst,Pina could have bikini armour.

 

[charclone]

Classical problem with average fantasy - dude/lass in armour with sword - but witchout schield or helmet.
Well,it could be worst,Pina could have bikini armour.

No one here is that dumb, thankfully. Pina and her knights wear full plate, similar to the manga, and most of them wear helmets, but, uh, more than a few of the high social ranking ones don't.

 

[ATP]

No one here is that dumb, thankfully. Pina and her knights wear full plate, similar to the manga, and most of them wear helmets, but, uh, more than a few of the high social ranking ones don't.

If i were better,or at least good writer,i would made parody of Gate when all dudes attacking Japan are half-naked with fur panties,and all womens wear bikini armour.
Which is working on otakus like Itami,becouse they do not schoot only get nose bleeding.

 

[ShadowArxxy]

Wonderful to see this updating again. It's unfortunate that the protagonist is Canadian because that makes the story at least 40% less awesome, but it's still a pretty great story.

 

[charclone]

Pina adjusted the borrowed helmet on her head, that somehow fit, as the group marched, if it could be called that, towards the gate.

Richard, Tara, Richard's entourage, and two of the Major's soldiers joined Pina and her commanders.

It was small things that Pina noted, such as how Richard seemed as shaken as her, despite his armour, or how Tara seemed relaxed in the same way Gray was.

They had moved from gate to gate, Pina making a show of supporting and encouraging the militia, but so far, directly engaging in combat was unnecessary. So, they conserved their strength.

Pina made a mental note to inform her father just how effective the otherworlder's weapons were. Armour was little protection, she had seen an ogre brought down with a burst of fire from one of the larger weapons they carried, the projectiles it used tearing its head open.

The Empire would need to either develop its own, or a counter, if it wanted to survive. This 'NATO' was without a doubt the next great power of the world, and the Empire must adapt to match it, quickly, or risk being destroyed.

The eastern gate came into view as they rounded a corner.

It was burning.

One of the soldiers started talking into his 'radio' in his tongue, his voice rapid, filled with a mix of anger and surprise.

"Who is in charge here!?" She shouted.

"Princess!" A militiaman saluted. "We sent a runner; thank the gods you arrived in time. Something got past the walls, went after the foreigners' devices, damaging them."

From the wall top came the crack of the otherworlder's weapons firing.

"The last assault reached the wall tops, but it was repelled." The militiaman, one of the few officers still loyal, explained. "Then they rammed a burning wagon into the gate as we tried to reorganise."

"The thing, its dead?" Pina demanded. "Do you know what it was?"

"Some form of living shadow, the men think, your highness."

Tara tuned out the chatter as Pina interrogated the officer, and Gray organised the troops with them to reinforce the gate. It was going to fall any moment now, apparently. Instead, she focused on a strange sound.

She flinched as the gate shattered.

Something made it fall prematurely, striking it.

"Enemy mage! They blasted the gate apart!"

The unknown sound shifted.

In an instant, Tara remembered it. She whirled to meet it, brining her spear down in a slash.

A short blade countered it.

The Dar, a vaguely human looking shapeshifter covered in patches of short fur with a pair of small ears on their head, danced away, warily watching her.

"Skinstealer." Tara spat. She paused, tracking the Dar's original path. It led to Richard and the two soldiers with working radios.

The shapeshifter laughed.

"Hey, I gotta eat. If its any consolidation, I'm not one of those psychos, I'm just a paid infiltrator." The look on their face dropped from amusement to fear as they felt a blade against their back. "That being said… would you be interested in my services? I generally prefer not to go against Warrior Bunnies, bit bad for my health, yeah?"

"Should I skin him, or let him live?" Rasha asked from behind the shapeshifter.

"He deliberately fouled his attack." Gray noted to Pina, as one of the soldiers bound the Dar with strange white bonds. "Probably saw what the firearms could do."

"Bandaged thigh." Pina nodded toward the Dar. "I bet he found out exactly what a firearm can do."

"Fire's dying down!" A militiaman shouted.

"They're coming! Ready yourselves!" Another shouted.

"Norma, lead some of the knights to the top of the wall!" Gray shouted commands, barking at the Rose Knights as they fell into positions.

Pina glanced over the crowd of militia, faces showing fear.

In the stories she had read and seen acted out in plays, now would be when the Imperial General, or hero of the story would make an inspiring speech that would rally the scared soldiers into winning the day. But nothing came to Pina's mind, full as it was of her own doubts and fears.

Snatches of phrases, or bits of other speeches came to her mind, but nothing whole.

"Warriors of Italica!" Richard's voice called out, accented slightly, and clearly unused to telling at such volume. Yet, it did what Pina was struggling to do, catching their attention, and distracting them from their fears. "The enemy comes before you!"

Silently, Pina cursed the 'Knight'. How was that going to inspire anyone.

"But behind you is your homes! Your sisters, brothers, children, parents! They will not be looking to her highness' knights to protect them, or myself. They will be looking to you! Will you fail them?" An echoing, angry cry of 'No!' was the response. It was only a handful responding, but she saw the looks on the others. They were either angry or their faces were blank, very few looked afraid. "You are few, and the enemy is many, but I know you will hold! The foe fights for coin! You fight for your city! Coin will be gone the next day, and they are surrounded by untrustworthy mercenaries! Your city will last through the generations, and you are surrounded by kinsmen, fighting even now for your sakes! Will you leave them ashamed!?"

The 'No!' was louder this time. More and more faces were angry.

"Then fight and hold the cowards coming at us back!" Pina shouted, refusing to let Richard be the one to have the final word. "For Italica!"

Cries of "Italica! Italica! Italica!" echoed.

The firearms on the wall began to fire more rapidly. Someone cursed.

The elves with Richard took places on a rooftop, positioned behind and above the barricade assembled around the inside of the gate to hold the enemy back.

The militia, whipping themselves into a frenzy now, beat their weapons against the ground or their shields.

A magical blow hammered the burning remnants of the gate, scattering the burned and broken pieces.

A heartbeat later, the first of the enemy was through.

 

[ATP]

Good speech.And smart infiltrator.
They hold in canon,so they would hold now,too - question is,how many enemies survive.For example those siren wind mage survived becouse manga author wanted cool looking demihumans
@charclone could kill her,if his story do not need her.

 

[charclone]

I'm hardly going to kill off a canon character, simply for the spectacle.

Besides, her death would serve no purpose, even if I didn't have a small role in mind for her.

 

[ATP]

I'm hardly going to kill off a canon character, simply for the spectacle.

Besides, her death would serve no purpose, even if I didn't have a small role in mind for her.

Good.It is your story,she should live or die depending on what you want achieve

 

[charclone]

They found a bloodthirsty militia waiting for them.

Spears and axes struck, as they smashed into the barricade. The first bunch fell, some to arrows fired by the elves of the Long Patrol, others to bullets from the Canadian soldiers. The dirt ground quickly became bloodied.

Slowly, the numbers past the gate increased.

As moments stretched into seconds, and seconds into minutes, they began to press against the barricade. Wherever it seemed to start to buckle, Pina's knights charged in, climbing the rear of the barricade to slash and stab at the enemy as they tried to climb its front.

Minutes stretched into an hour.

The foe pulled back, leaving their fallen where they lay, many crying or groaning in pain, with far too many silent.

The militia used the reprieve as best they could, drinking from waterskins, pulling their dead and wounded off the barricade, and generally resting as best they could.

After too short a time, the cry came again that they were attacking.

The enemy mage once against lending their strength, as a magical blow hurled a pair of militia archers off the wall.

As the two NATO soldiers on the wall fired in the general vicinity of the mage, leaving the archers to deal with their enemy counterparts, the sister's played one of their last cards.

Dressed in black and red, the 'Sons of Emroy' were a well know mercenary band. They went wherever there was heavy fighting, and were made up of former soldiers, looking for a death in combat. They were fanatics, and bloodthirsty as well.

They cheered as a grenade hurled from the wall killed several of them, rushing past and over the dead and wounded through the gate, bolstering the moral of the rest of the sister's forces with the sight.

They struck the barricade as a powerful mass, several leaping with the momentum of the charge to carry them, armour and all, most of the way up it.

The militia and the Rose Knights tried to rally, and drive them back, but just as they readied themselves, a powerful just of wind blew the blood-soaked dirt up and around the mercenaries, into the eyes of the defenders.

Richard wasn't sure what possessed him.

He had only fought one battle, one real battle, not the play of festivals or tournaments, out of desperation, and he had nearly been killed. Yet, the sight of the knights and militia, desperately trying to hold back and failing struck something in him.

He screamed and readied his black blade.

"Eulalia!"

It was the battle cry of the fictional Long Patrol, for which the escaped slaves that had fought alongside him and been named. It was a cry supposedly derived from the ancient Norse, or Celtic, word for victory.

It served its imagined role well.

Tara nearly jumped when Richard yelled. She did jump, in step with him, as he charged. His 'bodyguard' kept step with them both.

They were few. The foe many, and the militia reeling.

It didn't turn the tide. But it did make it pause.

Richard felt his blade punch through the chainmail around someone's throat, as he reached the top of the barricade. The body fell backwards clutching their throat, vanishing among the throng.

Tara gave her own war cry, her bladed-spear singing through the air, with better precision that Richard's own bladework.

It was simple, bloody work. Slashes at any extended limbs trying to climb, and stabs at any bodies in reach, all to keep them from climbing the barricade.

Richard felt something strange in the air, for a brief second, before the enemy mage struck again, having repositioned themselves.

A chunk of the central barricade shattered, the militia on top reeling and bleeding from the splinters in their bodies.

For a heartbeat, those that could spare the thought might have worried the battle would shift, the mercenaries breaking through.

Then 7.62 NATO rounds tore through the gap in the lines, as Major Johnston and his troops, fresh from breaking the foe on the north wall, came running.

The soldier with the machine gun swept his fire towards the centre of the enemy, firing in controlled bursts from where he lay atop the building..

It was efficient, it was brutal, and it was swift, as the Canadian soldiers fired bursts from their own weapons.

The mercenaries broke and fled.

The sisters' suborned militia and personal forces shattered.

It was a mimicry of the situation outside the walls.




"Yeah, that's it! Drop them on the fucking ground! On the motherfucking ground!" Harry shouted. "Fifi! Left!"

Philip's rifle barked, as one soldier, too stupid to surrender like his fellows, tried to charge. He dropped as 5.56 NATO gave him a new airway.

"Fucking show-off! Quit aiming for their goddamn head! Sarge'll have yours for fucking breakfast!"

"Ross! Tent! I'll get front, you rear!"

"Roger!"

The camp's guards had been lax, few, and primitively equipped. It had been child's play to get in close and take them piecemeal.




"Richard." Tara panted, noting she was more out of shape than she had thought she was. "Edgar said something… what's an airstrike?"

Richard, breathing just as heavily, paused.

"Aircraft. Cover your ears."

Tara glanced up as she heard a strange roar.

She swore and did her best to cover all four ears with one arm, while the other held her spear.




"Hoo! Chairforce is lighting the fucking Romans up like a Christmas tree!" Ross laughed, as he and Philip dragged some overdressed noble to where they were collecting the prisoners, pausing to glance at the explosions from the USAF's strike against the massed forces outside Italica. "Guess we won't have much to clean up."

A moment later, the helicopters roared overhead, a song playing from their speakers.

"Airborne in late to the party, and they think they're the motherfucking Winged Hussars." Ross shook his head.

"Least that means they are the one's cleaning shit up over there." Philip sighed, as he lifted the noblewoman, who fainted at the sight of the helicopters, illuminated by the camp's lights.

 

[ATP]

More logical then canon,but since author of Gate cared mainly about Itami harem,i am not suprised.

 

[charclone]

In the Imperial Palace, in an ill-used section Pina had once explored when young, there was a tapestry. It was an ancient thing, showing the effort the founders of the Empire had gone to, to fight off a brood of fire dragons.

The sky was shown to be burning, men broiled alive in their armour, desperately fighting, and dying, to slay the winged beasts.

It was obvious why it was not displayed prominently. Her father had told her it had been made as both an insult, and accurate record. His grandfather had ordered it restored to serve as a reminder, to never be blinded by the glory of the empire' success. Their ancestors were nearly destroyed by these ancient foes, succeeding only due to Emroy lending his strength.

The scene before her, as she abandoned the barricade to look over the wall, reminded her of it.

Green things she could find few words to describe, none she felt accurate enough, swept over the battlefield outside the walls in the dark. Larger versions of the firearms used by the major's soldiers roared, some from the noses of the flyers, like a unicorn's horn, others from the sides.

Strange projectiles sprayed fire, hurtling themselves towards the enemy to explode with such fury and with such speed that it made mages seem hopelessly obsolete.

Explosions and fire painted the night sky red, just as in the tapestry.

As the fury moved away from the walls, soldiers began to climb out of the flying things, moving swiftly, and slaying any of the bandits that did not throw down their arms, or were not already dead or wounded.

The foe, once seemingly formidable, had broke in but a moment.

She stood on the battlements and watched these 'NATO' people move. It was swift and disciplined. She didn't understand any of the language shouted, or the reason for the music being played, but understood the discipline. She found it gave a sense of normalcy, for all their strangeness. They were soldiers, and there were somethings that did not change.

She forced herself to relax and wore a mask of calm.

Whatever political goals 'NATO' bore, she needed to keep a steady hand, and clear head. She was Praetor Peregrinus, sent to determine their intentions and goals, as well as buy time for the Empire.

She gave encouraging nods to the militia and her knights as she descended the wall. Rushing up to gawk at the… flyers and their magic had been unseemly. Best to mask that, as others were likely as surprised as she had been.

She paused as she reached the bottom of the stairs, a voice singing, poorly, reached her ears.

"Then the winged hussars arrived, coming down the mountainside, then the winged hussars arrived, coming down they turned the tide."

She realised after a moment that it was Richard, translating the lyrics of the song being played by the reinforcements.

He was not well suited to singing.

"Cannonballs are coming down from the sky, Janissaries are you ready to die? We will seek our vengeance eye for an eye, you'll be stopped upon the steps of our gate, on this field you're only facing our hate, but back home the sultan's sealing your fate."

She waited from him to finished before approaching.

"They've got the song on repeat, unfortunately, but its about a siege, against the city of Vienna. The siege was broken by the winged hussars, a military unit from the kingdom of Poland, also known as the polish hussars. Not that they are hussars, or Polish." Richard laughed. "Those are Americans, I believe, airborne infantry."

Pina frowned.

So, Poland was a kingdom that held meaning to 'NATO', important enough for them to remember its victories. But who were the Americans and Canadians then? How did 'NATO' factor in? Was it the Empire they served, and the Americans and Canadians were people that were part of the empire?

She shook her head. No sense making guesses now.

"Sir Richard." She greeted as she resumed walking, this time towards him. The militia not part of the efforts to handle the wounded had gathered around him and parted to let her close. "May I speak with you?"

He paused in thought, briefly.

He sat on part of the barricade, smashed by the enemy mage. Tara, the white haired Warrior Bunny sat next to him, cleaning her spear.

He nodded and took off his helmet. After a moment's realization, Pina removed her own.

"Sure. What about?"

"That speech you made…" Pina frowned as she was interrupted when the militia around them started chatting. Pina kept her face calm, refusing to show either annoyance or irritation. She was not surprised that he had earned respect among the militia. "… I was hoping to ask you about it."

Richard's eyes flickered nervously.

"I, uh, made it up. Adapted random snippets of other speeches, and well, I just said what came to mind." He shrugged in his black plate. "Not the first time I've done that, done a bit of one the spot speeches for the tournaments and festivals. One I frequented each year had two teams form, and fight, with the captain of each team making a speech. Speech matters almost as much as the fight itself in scoring."

Pina felt a hot flash of anger that she quickly smothered. Of course, Richard would have more effect with his speeches if he had more experience.

"That being said, I haven't had much, if any, experience with prepared speeches." He admitted after a moment. "Figured anger would be the easiest emotion of use, so I flamed it."

Pina nodded her head.

"May I ask… have you fought in battles before?" Richard looked Pina in the eye.

Tara placed her hand on Richard's back, a look of concern etched on her face, though Pina missed it.

Pina flushed in embarrassment, breaking her mask of calm.

"…ah, nothing like this. A handful of times while riding around the capital, we chased on the odd bandit troop, but… no."

Richard nodded without breaking his gaze and took a deep breath.

Mentally Pina berated her herself and forced herself to restore the mask.

'Curse him for seeing through it.' She mentally moved the political danger he represented up several notes.

"Neither have I. One real fight, the assault on Alnus." He shook his head. "Don't remember most of it. Took a blow to the head and just saw red."

Pina's thoughts halted.

"I… I see…"

"Did damn well for only being your second fight." One of the militia soldiers leapt in. "Didn't waste anything on fancy manoeuvres, just in and driving them back."

A small cheer went up.

Pina mentally cursed him again. She saw what he was doing, and he had cornered her quite effectively, whether what he saw was true or not.

Her eyes flickered to Tara.

After a moment's hesitation, Pina decided it was better to not risk antagonising the Warrior Bunny.

That left her with but one option.

"Well, thank you for answering my question. I'd best be off seeing to my knights, and if your people need any assistance."

It was several moments after Pina left that a thought struck Richard.

'Shit. She was fishing for information, and she left so quickly… maybe talking to the young woman that grew up in a viper pit of politics isn't a safe idea…'

 

[charclone]

Richard handed the pistol in its holster back to Edgar.

"Glad I never had to fire that." He joked as he began to strip off his armour, wincing as bruises he didn't remember receiving were touched.

Tara stepped into help him.

"Part of me wishes you had, and had stayed back." Edgar admitted with a laugh. "Your mother would kill me if she could, when she finds out about this."

"Does his mother… disapprove of fighting?" Tara cocked her head in Edgars direction, before placing the upper arm armour on the table, alongside the pieces of Richard's suit of plate already removed. Her own armour, being far simpler, already lay next to it.

The room in the Formal Palace they had been given for their use was already full of the rest of Richard's entourage, removing their armour, and looking to its maintenance. The recently arrived NATO troops making camp outside of the city, for now, with a temporary headquarters being placed in another wing of the Palace, with an appropriate guard.

"Yeah. I wouldn't call her a pacifist, she doesn't start fights, she hates violence, but she would certainly end them." Richard laughed. "And I doubt she will get pissed, not at you anyway."

Edgar grunted. He paused briefly, noting Richard's hands were shaking.

"You alright?"

Richard shook his head.

"Ah, just the adrenaline drop, and lack of sleep." Richard punctuated his statement with a yawn.

"Your sure?" Major Johnston crossed his arms.

Tara started laughing. It started as a low giggle, and grew into full guffaws.

Slowly, she got them under control. After several moments to calm her breathing, she apologised.

"Sorry, it… it just struck me how different our cultures are." She tossed a part of Richard's armour onto the table. "My people… we would generally be celebrating once a battle was won. We… generally see value, in those that can kill. But you people don't, do they?"

Edgar shook his head.

"We see value in it, but… its not natural or healthy, to be able to easily take a person's life." He winced. "Leaves scars. Part of military training is being able to do it, but also to know when not too."

Tara nodded.

"With… how powerful your weapons are, I can understand." She crossed her arms. "That's part of why most mages aren't warriors, they aren't trained to be, they grow up learning books and knowledge, not how to kill, and no one wants a mage that will blow up a house at the drop of a hat."

The trio stood in silence for a moment, disrupted only by the clatter of armour as the other warriors worked.

"Right, well. I'd best report to the General. He's probably going to want to talk to you Richard, later. Won't be anything intensive, just a couple questions. Meantime, get some rest." Major Johnston waved as he left.

Richard and Tara finished removing the plate armour.

"Ick." Richard made a face of disgust as he found his shirt, bearing the iconography of the Stargate: SG-1 TV show, soaked in his sweat. "At least I have a change of clothes."

"You smelled far worse during our escape." Tara poked him in the shoulder.

"Ah, pardon the interruption." Richard and Tara's heads' swivelled toward the door. Countess Myui stood there, a maid by her side. "I must apologise for not offering the Palace's baths for your use. It would not be proper to insult a hero of the city."

Richard blinked in surprise. The eleven-year-old countess' smiling face made him hesitate. Before he could refuse, or protest her calling him a hero, Tara interjected.

"That is very generous of you, your grace. Thank you."

"As I said, it would not be proper to insult a hero of the city." Myui's grin grew. "I must say, your Saderan is remarkably good."

"Thank you, my mother thought it important that I could speak more than just my people's language."

Richard used the moment to collect his thoughts. He cleared his throat.

"Thank you, your grace, we appreciate it." He placed his hand on Tara's shoulder. "However, I must protest at being called a hero. My own participation was lesser than many of your own troops."

"Yet, your people saved the city, and your presence saved a gate from falling. What else would I call such a person but a hero?" Myui raised her chin and met Richard's embarrassed gaze. "Rest assured, the heroes of the militia will also be suitable rewarded. Your humility does you credit."

Richard squeaked as Tara rapped her arm around his shoulders, and brought him into a half-hug.

Myui stifled a giggle.

Richard noted something.

"I note that you have not mentioned Pina."

Myui's smiled lessened.

"The Empire is the cause of the problem. If my father had not been forced to vassalize himself, even if it kept the city free, he would not have been forced to march past the Gate."




Elsewhere in Italica, near the wall.

"So, to recap, you went out, by yourself, to attack the enemy."

"Correct."

"You saw both enemy mages, and after killing one, you noticed the other was a demi-human and a slave, and decided to spare her, since she was not a willing combatant."

"That is correct."

"You then carried her back into the city, dodging the rockets from the heli, scaring the airborne putting down nearby, leapt over the wall while carrying her, and sat on her until I saw free."

"The soldier's reactions were rather amusing."

The US Marine officer sighed.

Rory reminded him far too much of his own Marines. It scared him, far more than the idea of a demigod. The mental image of having to be responsible for a marine, even just one, made him die a little on the inside.

"Right, miss…"

The demi-human, with green feathers and bird feet stared at him, not understanding.

"Your name, please?" He repeated, making sure to carefully pronounce the Saderan words.

She flinched.

"Oh, ah… Myuute."

The officer scratched it down.

"Alright, with me please. Let's get you processed and get you clothed."

He sighed. She was not the only slave the NATO forces had discovered among the noble's camps, and he knew it was going to be a long day.

 

[ATP]

Rory as USA Marine? YEEESSSSS!!!!!!!!!
Author,you are genius,make her enlist at once.
Jokes aside - good reason for sparing Myuute.And,to be honest,better then canon.
Well,your story is better then canon,too.

Maybe becouse canon was made by dude loving harems?

 

[charclone]

Maybe becouse canon was made by dude loving harems?

I think the issue was he was a Jingoist, and a hypocrite.

 

[ATP]

I think the issue was he was a Jingoist, and a hypocrite.

That,too.Entire story is about How Japan should rule and harems.

 

[ShadowArxxy]

I think the issue was he was a Jingoist, and a hypocrite.

Most hardcore Japanese nationalists are, because they want to bring back the Imperial days while at the same time whining that every other country in Asia is "refusing to let go of the past" for calling them out on bringing back the Imperial days.

 

[charclone]

Richard would be lying if he said that he didn't enjoy the idea of using the Formal Palace baths. He had expected something akin to the Roman Baths, and while they were very similar, there were also differences.

The Formal Baths were underground, relying on underground springs. Airways hidden by the wall façade provided ventilation. Despite the underground location, candles and windows provided ample light, and the waters had been scented. Richard would have enjoyed them greatly, if not for two things.

The first was the memory that many surviving Roman Baths suffered from the use of lead pipes, and water contamination.

The other was the fact that mixed bathing was apparently in fashion. Or at the very least, no one was going to stop Tara from bathing with him.

He did not resent her presence, the problem was that he was not sure how to progress. He had found no time to discuss the topic of relationships with her, in the chaos following the battle.

The fact that Tara was both as nude as the days she was born, and intent on sticking to his side, made it difficult to concentrate on the topic well enough to discuss it.

Tara, for her part, was enjoying the heat of the baths. The baths set up for the refugees were private, a luxury to her people, and were always warm, but they were small, and it was hard to soak like this in them.

She knew Richard was uncomfortable about something, and knew his culture was different from hers. She had no doubt it would create difficulties, but she was confidence they could overcome them. She was less certain that he would tell her what was bothering him anytime soon, as Richard was quick to explain most problems, but when it came to a small number of specific topics, he tended to avoid them.

She snickered at the memory of a group of Miritta worshippers had asked to set up a temple in the town.

"Something funny?" Richard asked her, a strange quality in his voice she had associated with embarrassment. He was certainly blushing quite heavily.

"Just remembering the time you had to talk to those Miritta worshippers that tried to set up a temple." His blush redoubled. "Interesting that your people have laws around prostitution. But was sticking the medical corps on them necessary?"

"Told too by the General. STDs are a serious concern, and their beliefs run into complications with our laws, so it was far outside my jurisdiction."

Tara hummed in response, leaning on his shoulder.

She felt Richard relax as he talked. They lapsed into silence for several moments.

Richard cleared his throat.

"Ah, Tara…"

A knock sounded from the entrance of the baths.

"Good day, Lord Richard." Both Tara and Richard looked at the new arrival.

Dressed in the black dress and white smock of the Formal maids, the Warrior Bunny had long locks of brown hair, and stood slightly taller than either Tara or Richard. Richard also noted her ears were notably larger than Tara's, a fact he filed away to investigate later.

In her hands, she held a basket of cloth.

"To dry yourselves once you are finished." She said, smiling, as she placed them down. Her ear flickered towards the entrance, and her smile dropped into a scowl. "I would like answered however."

Tara wracked her memory. Something about the newcomer tickled something in her own memory.

"An answer to what?" Richard had tensed up when she had entered, and more so when her face changed.

"Nothing from you, Sir Richard. From your… companion." Her tone was bitter in its reply. "How did you survive?"

Tara remembered her.

"Delilah, from the Red Currents Clan. You fought in most of the battles during the war."

"Yes. I also remember our queen, your sister, betraying us."

Tara's face fell.

"All I know, is that she vanished, a few hours before the last assault." She glared at Delilah, biting back the remarks about her clanmates, and others, reckless charge into Imperial lines that broke their formation. "And she was only my half-sister, I am not pureblood. As for how I survived, I don't know. I took a blow to the head during the fighting, and woke up a slave."

Delilah glared.

"Yet, here you stand, free."

"Pot meet Kettle." Richard snorted. He blinked. "Did I say that in Saderan or English?"

"Saderan." Delilah was at least trying to be civil towards Richard, Tara noted. "What exactly do you mean by that?"

"You are also free, are you not? Besides, Tara was only freed when I made my escape with her. More than a few of us owe her as much as each other for our freedom."

Delilah took several breaths.

"Know this. If I ever get the chance, I will kill Tyuule." Without giving either of them a chance to respond, Delilah spun on her heal and walked out of baths.

Silence reigned for several heartbeats.

"Okay… that just happened." Richard blinked.

Tara sighed.

"She's far from the only one with that mentality. Tyuule… rumour has it that she sold herself to avoid destruction and sold us out as well." Tara took a deep breath. Whatever flower had been used to scent the waters was helping her relax a little at least. "I… she was young to her position, not the youngest queen we had had, but… she was not the most popular either. There were rumours she had arranged for the last queen to be assassinated, and for her to be voted in. Garbage, since she had been chosen to be the successor by the last queen a decade before, but…"

"People will make excuses to fit their biases." Richard sighed. "So… that's why you never mentioned her being your sister."

"Yeah. And the main issue with the Warrior Bunnies at Alnus is we have no leader, no one that is a pureblood, and this eligible to be made queen." Tara lowered herself so that the waters were at her neck. "The clan elders from each clan would gather, and elect the queen, or the current queen would select either a relative to be voted on by the clan leaders, or another pureblood. As long as they were pureblood, they could be made queen, but… Zorzal murdered all the purebloods."

"Are there even enough elders left to elect a queen?" Richard placed his hand on hers. "I only remember, what, three that are old at Alnus?"

"Eh, Elder is more a title or position than a signifier of age. It… doesn't translate well to Saderan, I think in English it would be both 'Wise' and 'Learned'. They aren't the priests, though some clans did have their priests also be elders." Tara leaned against Richard again and closed her eyes. "But, no, I don't think there are enough left. Not enough clans, not enough elders, not enough of… anything. Even if there was, and I was pureblooded, I wouldn't want to be queen. Too much politics. You're better at that stuff than me."

"What gives you that impression?" Richard looked at her.

"You volunteered to work as a go between for the freed slaves and NATO." She let her ears relax and lay on Richard's head and shoulders. "The conditions improved a great deal when that happened."

Richard snorted.

"Most of my work was acting as a translator, and providing NATO and the charities involved a list of what was needed."

"Nevertheless, once you got involved, things improved, and you still were meeting with generals and other important people. That also cemented the idea that you were some sort of noble in people's minds."

 

[ATP]

Richard as bunny King.Happy End.
Jokes aside - temple prostitution was a thing in ancient times.