“Admiral Naron,
the assault force is ready. Our destroyers are in position, with the
battlecruisers and supercarriers further behind. We’re waiting for
your signal.” Admiral Naron stood there for a minute, looking out
the massive battleship’s main bridge tower at his fleet’s
position; more than 15 ships, all churning the roaring waters from
their oil-fired boilers. He looked at his pocketwatch, and gave the
signal. “Commence operation HAMMER FIST. Crush them.” The huge,
15-ton iron bell on the top of the ship rang three times, shaking the
bridge as it did so. Massive salvos roared away from the ships all at
once. It looked like the entire world had just ignited. The impact on
the tropical shores of Arion Island off the nation of Hime was just
as terrifying. The great cloud forests immediately burst into flames;
the towering inferno consumed all, reducing mansions and expensive
homes that characterized this island to choking piles of soot and
ash. The blaze continued to spread so fast that it spread faster than
even the fastest athlete could run. No one escaped. The main town on
the island, Hibiscus City, was reduced to cinders within two minutes.
30,000 people were burned alive. The Wallachian Grand Fleet had
brought a holocaust upon Arion rarely seen in Meteorologia’s
history; all of this was in the name of proving absolute supremacy
over the other nations, to force them into submission. This type of
bombardment was more of a psychological terror than anything else,
seeing your home burn to the ground, your friend screaming for your
help, but not having anything to douse his burning, slowly roasting
body with, and your life vanish in front of you would do far more
damage than simply bombing for tactical reasons. This bombardment was
only the beginning. The fighter jets from even more terrifying
aircraft carriers positioned behind the main flotilla roared overhead
in a spectacular display of Wallachian military might. The planes
ripped into the already infernal maelstrom with machine-gun fire and
yet more incendiary bombs, igniting what little forest remained
unburned. The attacks came again and again, continuous strafing runs,
carpet bombing assaults and rocket barrages from the arsenal ships
literally burned the island itself to cinders, sand on the beaches
was fusing to glass from the heat. The firestorm was creating its own
weather system, with lightning in clouds of smoke and whirling fire
tornadoes dancing across the crying land. Showers of scalding ash
sealed the incinerated inhabitants of Arion in their final agony.
Admiral Naron looked at this holocaust with psychotically happy eyes.
His duty to the Wallachian Empire of Fire and the Flame Lord was
fulfilled here, in battle on these massive warships, it always was,
and it always would be. The Admiral let out a low, demonic-sounding
chuckle as his mission was complete. “This operation is a success.
Glory to the Inferno Cross!!” Naron screamed. His soldiers roared
in applause. The mission of Wallachia was simple; it wasn’t
conquest, but the unmitigated annihilation of all non-Wallachian
peoples, those viewed as “inferior” by His Majesty Lord of
Infernos and the House of Kulakov. The goal was genocide of the
entire “weak” world, along with other, ulterior motives that
definitely existed. Such horrendous scenes as the one that befell
Arion Island were all too common in the world these days, the
Wallachians were burning villages, scorching fields and enslaving
entire countries, forcing them to become vassal states to Wallachia
and taxing them with ridiculous fees and overages; often, if a vassal
couldn’t pay the tax, they were usually sentenced to slave labor;
often working in horrendous, inhumane conditions, laboring
ceaselessly in the iron foundries, shipyards or engine-rooms of the
awe-inspiringly gargantuan warships, some of the battlecruisers were
approaching the size of the former German Empire’s and the British
of WWI. People were often brutally injured by these machines, and
then left to die in pain and suffering, even when pleading for
medical care. Women and men were not given separate jobs; a woman
could easily be sent to a dark, hazardous mine or foundry just as
easily as a man could. Even as far as dictatorships went, Wallachia
was hideously cruel. At least dictators in years past had the sanity
to put women in different roles as men. Some of the things that
happened between slaves in the mines and foundries were so gruesome
that people who died were envied by those who lived. The policy with
slaves in Wallachia and Wallachia-controlled territory was that all
slaves were to be punished in equal measure for daring to challenge
Wallacha’s supreme authority. And, like all colonies, when the
usefulness of the colony reached its end, the colony and all of its
unfortunate inhabitants met the same ghastly fate as Arion just had.
This burned, barren land, however, wasn’t simply left to rot.
Colonies of Wallachian people, “Valids,” as they were called by
the Royal House, moved in and used the fertile, burned soil to grow
such crops as wheat, grain and apple. In this way, the vast Empire of
Wallachia killed two birds with one stone; they conquered new
territory while totally destroying the enemy simultaneously. This
system of pillaging and conquest had been so successful that now only
the great nations and nations outside of Wallachia influence remained
sovereign. There were so few small nations left to burn…it was only
a matter of time before Wallachia set its sights on bigger targets;
even though other nations had nothing but prayer to rely on for
protection, Wallachia crushed them…but never went after the huge
targets, such as those in Rodinia or Laurentia, two of the other
major continents. For 20 long years, that was the reality, and it had
caused some major political shakeups, such as the return of a massive
Solar Caliphate, which stretched from the border with Hindustan and
Li to the Pillars of Stone, with its capital in New Assyria; and was
an enormous threat to Rodinia. Rodinia had created a united military
just for stopping the Caliphate, informally called “Aleyadin
Empire,” which had made two moves to invade Iberia and Lusitania,
but was repelled both times. To be invaded by the Wallachians meant
certain death, however, even if it didn’t happen right away; to die
right away was to be spared an agonizing death; knowing this, when
burgundy-uniformed Wallachian troops marched into a town, city or
capital, the citizens begged for death, however, those that begged
were often killed in the worst possible ways imaginable. As Admiral
Naron’s fleet began steaming back into the high seas of the Great
Misty Ocean, he was certain that there would be more conquests yet
ahead, more lands to conquer, more people to kill, and more prestige
to be had in the eyes of Inferno Lord Kulakov. Admiral Naron had
enjoyed a reputation as one of the finest commanders in history. His
brutal military tactics of eliminating all inhabitants of a conquered
territory through nothing short of a genocidal massacre and
inspirational voice among his men were legendary amongst Wallachian
sailors and soldiers alike. He was never wrong, because the Seer
always told him exactly what to expect at every engagement. As he
stood on the bridge tower of the enormous arsenal ship, the fleet
began playing through heavy seas; the bell on the top of the bridge
was ringing audibly from the ships heaving in the moaning, howling
wind and the crashing 30-foot seas. It was only due to the Admiral’s
exquisite hearing that he heard the moaning cry of an
Albatross-Eagle, huge bird-like creatures used as messengers across
the vast, tumultuous seas of the Great Misty Ocean, these had only
recently been discovered by science. Admiral Naron walked swiftly and
purposefully out onto the decks of his ship, into the roaring wind,
stinging, cold rain and crashing waves to receive the message from
the enormous bird hovering over the deck, withstanding the massive
white squall. He took a large, very old wooden chest from the eagle’s
talons, and struggled against the heaving, rocking ship to get it
back onto the bridge, out of the raging storm. As he brought it to
his desk, flanked by two huge, flaming torches for light and warmth
in the cold rain outside, he opened the box, a cloud of dust making
him sneeze as the lock clicked open. Inside the ancient chest, he
found a small scroll of yellowed, worn paper, peppered with holes
along the edges. Admiral Naron looked at the map with wanting,
lustful eyes. The object he had crossed half the globe to find,
pillaging innumerable villages and towns to acquire, had just been
dropped into his lap by a routine cargo delivery. As he gazed
longingly at the scroll, it was his prerogative to share the news of
the discovery to his crew, so that they could share in the
celebration as well. Admiral Naron stood up from his desk and walked
towards the mess hall, his huge steel-toed boots making huge clanking
sounds as he walked along the steel floors. The interior of a
Wallachian warship looked just as frightening as the exterior, cold,
dreary and iron. The Admiral opened the door to the mess hall; and
the entire crew stood up and snapped to attention from the steel,
uncomfortable benches, attempting to keep their food on the table
because of the ship’s rocking. There were huge torches lining the
edges of the mess hall, each one shaped like a different
gargoyle-shaped figure, and a huge, flaming candelabra hanging over
the mess hall, this caused no small amount of concern during a storm,
as it could easily crash to the floor, crushing the sailors eating
their gruel-slop, containing every nutrient the body needed. There
were huge red tablecloths with the eerie-looking Inferno Cross
embroidered onto them, the symbol of terror the world over. “Prince
Ferdinand, come forward!” the Admiral yelled in his loud, Slavic
accent. Obeying the order, a very tall, lanky, 19-year old wearing an
unusually elaborate Wallachian officer uniform stepped towards the
podium at the far end of the mess hall. The Admiral saluted the
Prince as he walked up the podium, placed his spindly hands on the
sides of the lectern and began to speak. “Gentlemen of Wallachia,
Admiral Naron has made a phenomenal discovery! The non-Wallachians
are nothing but vermin, they cower from our forces and die like
animals when we arrive, but the purpose of this war is not just
conquest, it is to locate the 5 Sacred Icons. These Icons, if
possessed by one entity, will give that entity the power of God
himself. What I hold in my hand now, this scroll, is the map to the
first Icon. We will find it!! We will be gods!!!” Ferdinand yelled,
flailing his arms in the air in a very triumphant manner. The sailors
stood up and cheered, and the guards, in full armor, kneeled in
respect for Prince Ferdinand. Ferdinand Kulakov was the favorite of
Lord Kulakov’s two sons, he was tenacious, brutal and didn’t take
no for an answer. Imran, his older brother, was a soldier through and
through AND just as good a tactical planner, very important, but not
well enough for his father, as, according to him, fighting and
planning were only part of the battle, despite the fact that war was
just that. It was just one of his father’s weird, tyrannical
quirks. Ferdinand was hailed as one of the greatest tactical planners
in history, along with his brother, he had been instrumental in the
war effort and he was also competent with any weapon as well.
Ferdinand stepped off the podium as the General took his place.
Ferdinand was always at odds with his brother; their sibling rivalry
would only be exasperated by Ferdinand’s triumph in finding the
Icon Map. However, if there was one thing Ferdinand envied about his
brother, only a year older than he, it was his ability to find dates;
unlike Ferdinand, who looked just like any woman wanted him to, Imran
truly looked and acted like a prince. He had brown hair, always
combed in a very neat manner with bangs partially covering his left
eye, brown eyes, and a very handsome face and was as tall and lanky
as Ferdinand was, just a year older. As such, girls liked him far
more, for his brains and his appearance. Ferdinand had never been in
love or a relationship, ever, and he was going to be 20 the following
month. Ferdinand didn’t want to marry this girl that his father
suggested for him, as he wanted to find a girl that would honestly
love him, not just marry him under pain of death from his tyrant
father. He knew who the girl was, a very pretty, pale-skinned,
green-eyed girl with long red hair named Samantha Jinrich
Lucembursky; she would definitely keep him happy, but still…Sam was
a bit pushy and very high-maintenance, something Ferdinand didn’t
want to put up with. She was from a Apollo-Felix family heavily
involved in Apollo politics, they always had been, and she had been
living in Wallachia for the past 3 years as a protector for the Royal
Family, however, Ferdinand didn’t want to be her husband, despite
the fact that Sam was always attempting to change his mind. His
brother would be more of her type. However, finding his own girl
didn’t seem likely at this point. However, he had no other
alternative…unless... yes, he had made the fateful decision
already. He’d rather be dead than married to a woman he didn't
love. He looked around his sumptuous, warm, richly decorated cabin
aboard the ship, thinking about the life he was about to embrace. He
had grown up in utter and complete splendor, now, if he fulfilled his
destiny, he would be the god of the New World. Just then, his brother
Imran approached him. “Well done, Ferdinand. You appear to have
gained your father’s favor once again, but at least I have a better
love life that you ever will. I don’t care about your
achievements.” “That makes two of us.” Ferdinand replied. “I
hope you have a nice life with Sam Lucembursky. I heard she’s a
real handful, though. HA!” That she was; she loved nothing more
than hoarding money, expensive jewelry, shoes, expensive clothes,
expensive accessories, and living the high life. She was also trained
in the ancient sword arts, and could literally run on walls, jump 30
feet in the air and perform feats that seemed superhuman in nature.
The ship began to sway more heavily as the weather worsened; they
were bound for the Wallachian Colony A-12, a military outpost in the
conquered Koori Republic; Wallachia had absorbed most the Republic’s
military into its own Armed Forces and most of the women and children
were enslaved or massacred in concentration camps. The Land of
Meteorologia was so-named because most of the major nations had
control over a certain aspect of the weather; the Wallachian Empire
controlled the power of fire and heat, and the soldiers were capable
of shooting fire out of their hands, as well as using their
incredibly powerful assault rifles. The Koori Republic was important
because it was a stepping stone into the Midnight Sun Confederation,
a fief of the Hime Empire of Mist; it was famous for its immense
luxury hot spring inns; some of these were nearly 900 years old and
had seen a lot of history. They were incredible works of art and
architecture, with murals on the walls, classic Hime Oriental
architecture, stained-glass windows, wood floors, hot springs, baths
and massage parlors and plenty of food, booze and parties; however,
most of the buildings were guarded by the legendary Hime 5th
Paradise Tank Army Division of the Hime Colonial Forces, on guard for
peace, especially against the Wallachians. Now that nearby Koori had
fallen, the Hime Empire’s vast, well-equipped army, navy and air
force was on high alert, ready to take the fight to the Wallachians
and fight tooth and nail to defend their homeland if need be. The
Hime people were not afraid of a little bloodshed, even though they
were generally peaceful. The Hime people would not go quietly. The
Wallachian mission in Koori was to examine the map with the help of
the Wallachian Chief Scientist, Radu Araun. Ferdinand sat down back
at his seat as Admiral Naron took his spot at the podium again.
Ferdinand looked across the table and saw Sam sitting there, dressed
in a long, tight-fitting black dress that hugged every curve of her
6-foot 3 frame, with her sword on the table in front of her, its
scabbard decorated with gold leaf and silver, the blade itself had
the words “Ehre, Freiheit, Vaterland” written on it.
Ferdinand ducked his head, trying to avoid being spotted. Sam didn’t
exactly like the fact that the bathhouses were threatened, she was a
regular there and loved to live large, so to speak, not to mention
party her ass off and have fun every night, much to Ferdinand’s
dismay. Unfortunately for Ferdinand, hiding from her was no use. Sam
spotted him immediately after she walked in. “Hey! What are you
doing, hiding from me? I have a lot to talk to you about. Haha!”
Sam giggled. She hugged him tightly, regardless of how much she
annoyed Ferdinand; every time she hugged him, he got this warm, fuzzy
feeling in his stomach. They had known each other for more than 12
years, and had been friends since they were introduced; Sam had since
become Ferdinand’s protector and self-proclaimed “soul mate,”
though Ferdinand begged to differ. “I missed you, where were you?”
“You know very well where I was. I was overseeing the Colonies A-10
through B-1, you dope.” “Oh…so what about the plans involving
the bathhouses in Hime? When we take them for ourselves, let’s go
sit in the hot springs together, drink martinis and live like we mean
it!” “For one, there are no such plans, second, no thank you!”
“Why can’t things be like the way they were before? When we
danced together at that masquerade party that Wallachians are so
famous for holding? I’ve never seen such amazing costumes in my
life…so elaborate, so detailed; they looked like gods and goddesses
in full regalia!” “Sam, please stop getting all dramatic.” Sam
was right; historically, Wallachia was the most respected Empire in
the world, a grand civilization that produced the finest art,
literature, culture, music, and architecture ever seen, and dazzled
the world over. How such a beautiful civilization had fallen into
such a barbaric state was beyond the comprehension of most people.
Still, there was a plan to attack Hime, called Operation:
FOXHOUND. The plan, concocted by the infamous General Kondor von
Vultur, involved invading the fief of Midnight Sun Confederation,
while launching a simultaneous assault from the conquered territory
of Koori, keeping the Hime Imperial Army from focusing its forces on
one particular area; combined with submarines sinking every civilian
transport ship they could find to cut the supplies off to the island
nation, and Hime would capitulate within a few months, starving and
unable to continue the war. FOXHOUND would conclude with a full-scale
invasion of the Hime Home Islands, coming in from all sides. The
weather began to clear, however, as the ship began to sway less
intensely. As Ferdinand walked out onto the deck from the main
assembly hall, the misty rain was still falling, but the seas had
calmed down enough to see the rest of the fleet, the huge
battlecruisers slicing through the waves. Standing on the bow of his
ship, however, was a human figure, with his back turned toward
Ferdinand. He was not wearing a Wallachian uniform; it was blue and
white with a black cape, he had a sword at his side and black hair,
with some sort of crown on his head. “You there! Who are you?”
The man turned around and looked at Ferdinand with stoic eyes. “My
name is Prince Lucian Moonraiser of Hime…” he said in Japanese.
“It is time for justice! Let the Knights of Justice crush the
foul serpents with their heels, and may our shields shine the stone
gaze of Medusa back at the horrors of this world, for we must fight
or die!” Moonraiser screamed, again in Japanese as he lunged at
Ferdinand with his blade drawn, running superhumanly fast. Sam,
however, was there instantly with her sword drawn and both of them
clashed blades loudly, it was bit entertaining to see Sam jumping
around and fighting with a sword in her tight black dress, diamond
earrings, black pearl necklace and heels, but she didn’t care.
Ferdinand was in danger and she had sworn to protect him regardless.
The two of them fought brutally for about 5 minutes, and in typical
swashbuckling fashion, Sam knocked the sword out of Lucian’s hand,
only to see Lucian teleport out of existence, just before she could
kill him. “Are you ok, sweetie?” Sam asked, placing her sword
back in its scabbard. “Yes…I’m fine.” “Good. Let’s go
inside, you’ll catch cold.” Sam said, kissing Ferdinand sweetly.
Just then, Sam’s face froze in terror. “Sammy, what is it?!”
Ferdinand said, thinking that something was terribly wrong.
“EEEEEEEEEK!!! A ROACH!!” Sam screamed, jumping into Ferdinand’s
arms, causing him to fall over with Sam on top of him. “SOMEONE GET
THE CAN OF RAID!!” “For God’s sakes! It’s an insect!” Just
then, Imran walked out onto the deck and saw the scene. “Get a room
you two, seriously!” “Bugs are disgusting; they scare me more
than any crazy guy with a sword!” “What do you mean crazy guy
with a sword?” Imran asked. “We were just attacked by a
swordmaster named Lucian Moonraiser; he claimed to be the Crown
Prince of Hime…” “That he is, and if he’s here, our worst
fears are confirmed. We must move quickly if our plan is to survive.
How the heck did he get aboard the ship?” “He can teleport. Sam
was just about to kill him when he vanished. There’s his sword.”
Ferdinand pointed at the katana lying on the deck. “Back when I was
living in Mark Baronia, Apollo-Felix, there were these huge spiders
in my house and…eek! The Inheritors, the highest rank a soldier can
achieve in Apollo-Felix, which is 7 ticks above 5-Star General, would
always tease me with these fake spiders and insects. Ehre,
Freiheit, Vaterland…” Sam said, kneeling. Ferdinand knew that
Sam was a fierce Apollo-Felix ultranationalist, but her heart was
dedicated to protecting Ferdinand, even though he was not an
Apollo-Felix citizen; technically, Apollo-Felix considered Wallachia
an enemy, but was powerless to do anything because of the mysterious
Seer. She was an outright corporatist, fascist, xenophobic, racist
anti-Semite who hated all religion and wished to see Apollo-Felix
dominate all of Western Rodinia. Sam was also affiliated with the
Apollo-Felix Lightning Wielders, the electricity-manipulating weather
knights that ruled Apollo-Felix; their Grand Master was the Supreme
Leader of the Empire. Sam was capable of manipulating electricity,
and she had become a master at it. She could electrify water vapor in
the atmosphere in a static field, anything that touched one of the
droplets would be instantly electrocuted; she would create a storm of
super-charged rain with this ability, frying everything with an
“electric flood.” The jagged Fulminata, or Sigtyr runes,
decorated her family’s coat of arms, as well as the Lightning
Wielder’s insignia. She wouldn’t do that unless she was really
pissed at something, though. Unfortunately, she was very easy to
anger. Just then, Imran heard the ding of a buoy bell. “We must be
coming into port. Prepare for disembarkation.” Imran said, gruffly.
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