0644 June 8th, 2020 CE

0622 Sun 39th, 196 AE

Port City of Filanneas, Elven Nation

“This has been quite the productive meeting, President Inaneiros. We have gone a bit over time and we would also like to contact our government for further instructions so we shall continue this tomorrow.”

Anfalen looked at Henry’s outstretched hand questionably. “Ah sorry, it is an etiquette for hum… Americans to shake hands at either the start or end of an important meeting.”

“Ah. Noted.”

Anfalen stood up to shake Henry’s hand. “Thank you, Americans. I hope we come to a final treaty soon..” 

“Thank you, President Inaneiros. I hope so too. I would also like to inform you that the delegation from the Magus imperium will also be arriving tomorrow.”

Anfalen thought for a few seconds before raising his eyebrow. “And which country is that?”

Henry chuckled a bit. “The country your nation had invaded.”

A worried look washed over Anfalen’s face. “Ah, yes. The Magus Imperium. I nearly forgot.”

Noting Anfalen’s expression, Henry nodded. “Do not worry. Their demands will not be over the top. We understand that your nation is currently suffering. We have requested that they do not demand any land concessions. However they may require payment for damages that you have caused.” 

As soon as the Americans left, Anfalen immediately called in his aides. They had a lot of work to do. 

 

Thabel, Elven Nation

Thabel was a city that was untouched by the war since it was on the other side of the mountain. An elf messenger carrying a satchel hanging from his shoulder knocked on the door of a house. An elf female answered the door. The messenger looked at the letter he held. “Ms.Rowarin?”

“Yes… what is it?”

He handed the letter to her. “I’m sorry to inform you that your husband has died in the service of his country.”

A shocked expression passed over her face as her hand holding the letter trembled.

The messenger lowered his cap to cover his eyes. “I’m sorry for your loss.” 

The messenger left and travelled two houses away to knock on another door. 

With such a large number of deaths, it took time for the news of it to reach a family member. In fact, Anfalen had to set up a system in order to speed up the process. Messengers were hired to be in charge of delivering it at their jurisdictions whenever they received the letters. It wasn’t long before they were called the “Messengers of Grief”. 

 

Abellinum, Magus Imperium

Emperor Arstant watched as people scurried around. The sound of hammers and the clanking of machines were everywhere. Rubble littered the ground of a once bustling city. Buildings have just begun taking shape again. Emperor Arstant listened to his Head Economic Advisor who had a grim look. “This will take a year or so to completely rebuild. Probably more for the people to come back.” 

“How much damage has all this done to our economy?”

“The entire southern region has taken a massive hit. It is predicted that there will be more than a 90% reduction in regional productivity. We are also afraid that the entire southern region is vulnerable to a famine. Although originally self-sufficient, the amount of farms and cropland torched by the elves have slashed food production by nearly 75%. We need to send food from the northern region southward.”

“Do we have enough?”

The economic advisor looked through his notepad. “To prepare for the worst, we are thinking of implementing a ration. However, I’m hoping we can demand food from the elves.”

“I will add that onto the list of demands.”

 

1022 June 8th, 2020 CE

White House

Quincy walked besides the President as they went down a hallway in the White House. “Aren’t we being a bit too lenient here? They wanted to enslave all of humanity and would have succeeded if we weren’t here.” 

“The elves are one hell of a powderkeg. If we push it, it's just going to explode in our face.”

“We won the war. Why do we have to be so cautious? We have to reshape these elves whether they like it or not. Set up a military government. Show them who is in charge now.”

“Quincy, after our experience in the Middle East, nobody in their right mind will want to take on this mess. I don’t want to be remembered as the President who created another Afghanistan or Iraq. I’m actually glad there is somebody sensible in charge of the elves.”

“You are taking a risk with that Anfalen.”

“I’m willing to take that risk lest we be dragged into another endless war.”

 

1645 June 8th, 2020 CE

Washington D.C.

In a park, Quincy sighed as a man in a T-shirt and sweatpants sat down beside him. “Trevor, I’m getting sick and tired of these meetings that I have to travel to.”

“We don’t want to risk having someone listening in on our conversation on the phone. I won’t be surprised if your phone is bugged. You know that as well as I do that this is the best place. Not many people. No cameras. We can see our surroundings” 

“Not suggesting we change. Just complaining.”

“So how did it go?”

“I couldn’t convince him. Give me some time.” 

Trevor looked around before continuing. “General, I want you to remember there's a couple million dollars for you on the line here.”

Quincy put his head back onto the bench and looked at the sky. “Don’t worry. I will find a way. I always have.” 

“I have heard plans that Congress wants to decrease the military budget. That can not happen. With no more countries to export to, my company wants… needs that money. Understood?”

“You will get your contracts. I promise. Just continue developing those jets. You don’t have to worry about anything.” 

“Good. The CEO expects to see results.”

 

0332 June 9th, 2020 CE

0446 Sun 40th, 196 AE

Port City of Filanneas, Elven Nation

The members of the American delegation looked behind them as the door to Anfalen’s office opened. Anfalen stood up. “Welcome. The delegation from the Magus Imperium I presume. I’m President Inaneiros, the current leader of the elves. The Americans have informed me of your arrival today.”

The Magusians barely acknowledged Anfalen as they walked in and sat down in the chairs that had been prepared for them. “I’m Head Diplomat Jeph Benedict. We are here not to negotiate but to demand compensation.”

“I understand that and I would like to apologize on behalf of all elves for what we have done.”

Jeph’s frown deepened. “Thousands are dead and tens of thousands are without homes. All major cities in the southern region of my country are nothing but ashes and rubble. An apology will not suffice.”

“What are your demands?”

“A delivery of 1 million tons of agricultural foodstuff once every year for the next two years. A total of 2 million tons of steel, bricks, and wood each. 500 tons of gold. 250 tons of silver. Other than the food, we expect them to be delivered to us within 4 years. Blueprints for every single weapon design. Guns, ships, magitanks, everything. We also hope to receive intact and working weapons. 100 magitanks. 6,000 small arms of each type. 1,000 of each type of thaugun which includes artillery, anti-tank, and anti-air. Two of your latest battleships, one carrier, five cruisers, five destroyers, and ten submarines. 100 of each type of military aircraft. We also expect manuals on how to use all of them. These are our main demands. More minor demands are included in these documents.” 

Jeph threw a heap of papers onto the table. The room fell silent. Anfalen’s face was of pure shock. Even the Americans were showing some shock. Anfalen quickly  “Okay… I will say this right now. Some of these demands can’t be possibly met.”

“We are willing to change some of these demands. However, the result will be under our terms."

 

Somewhere in the Elven Nation

Tarron looked grimly around his cell. After being thrown onto the helicopter and flown for a few hours to some city, he was then locked into a cell. There were human guards who constantly kept watch on him. 

He mulled over his current situation while sitting in a corner. He couldn’t believe it. He lost. He lost everything even though it went so well at the beginning. He was supposed to be the chosen one to lead the elves to victory. 

 

60 miles from the Forest of Origin

Ara walked up to Vuduin. “Glad to see that you are okay, Field Marshal.”

“You can drop the honorifics now. It’s over.”

Ara nodded. “What was it all for?” 

Vuduin looked up to the sky. “One elf’s hatred.” 

Ara thought about it for a few minutes before replying. “I guess that was all it was.” 

They watched as the elves who had been led by Vuduin started dispersing. They had all been disarmed but were not taken prisoner. The elven officers, like Ara and, had to stay. The officers had all been transported to Vuduin to make sure everyone was present. Ara turned to Ehlark who was beside her. “Colonel. Want to go for a drink after all this is over?” 

“We are prisoners of war. I’m not sure if we will be able to see each other.”

“The war is over. All we have left to do is answer these humans some questions and then go… home.” Ara stopped at that. “Hey, Colonel, do you have a house?”

“Yes, why are you asking?”

Ara chuckled. “I got disowned by my parents and kicked out of their house for expressing my wish to have a career in the military and not marrying. I also never bought a house.”

“You were a Major General and you never bought a house? Your pay would have been more than enough.”

Ara rubbed her neck. “Never thought I needed it. I would have bought one after I retired. But my retirement kind of came early as you can see. I also don’t think houses are that common now.”