May 18^th, 1636, Rajpath, New Delhi, India, 8:30 P.M.

From the perspective of an outsider, PM Desai appeared to be a scary man, one who always wears a frown on his face. Rarely did his facial muscles twitch enough to make an expression that wasn’t a slight variation of the usual frown he wore all the time on his face. A perfect face, some would say, befitting a person in charge of leading a rather powerful country home to billions.

That face was now seated right int front of all the commanders of the various branches of the Indian Armed Forces in a high-level meeting. The person in question was seated at the end of the long table, exuding an aura that would otherwise unnerve the average person. It was no exaggeration when people said the PM could make people suffocate by his mere presence alone.

The PM motioned to the person sitting on his immediate right, nodding. The man, clad in a black suit, spoke up, taking the cue. His calm and laid-back demeanour alone was enough to dispel any doubts as to his identity.

“We received a report from the boys working near the islands this afternoon, which I believe, was delivered immediately to every gentleman’s desk here. As such, I will be assuming everyone in this room is already aware of today’s agenda.”

National Security Advisor Manuviraj Sharma. A retired RAW operative, just like the NSAs that had come before him, he had been posted in many places, some boring and mundane, some not so much. His mostly barren head and the innumerable wrinkles, combined with the way he carried himself, revealed just enough for the casual observer to know that he had seen, experienced, and done a lot of things. A lot of things best left buried in obscurity, away from the light.

Nods of approval answered the NSA’s question. The room wasn’t as crowded as it would be during a normal meeting; this was a meeting regarding a highly sensitive topic, as such the various ministers of the various ministries of the government were absent from the meeting. Only the important heads of the branches of the military and the intelligence agencies had been summoned. It was PM Desai’s order. No need to involve people in something that didn’t require their involvement.

“Before I speak, I would like to hear everyone’s opinions on the report, as well as any suggestions for going forward dealing with these ‘natives’.”

Defence Minister Sunil Kulkarni tapped his end of the shiny, polished wooden table.

“How solid is this report, Manu?”

The NSA smiled lightly. “As solid as the cheeky boys at the ground can make it.”

Defence Minister Sunil nodded. This didn’t seem like good news to anyone who knew the implications of the statement.

“Then it is settled. We have the advantage over them in every way, and they were the ones who fired the first round. Or first arrow, or magic, whatever. I say we invade their capital, tell the people  we’re reforming their way of life.”

“And risk creating another Kashmir? And that too when we are not in any position to afford it?”

CDS Bhandari retorted calmly to the Minister’s heated statement. Inwardly, he along with everyone else couldn’t help but sigh at the Minister’s usual, rather heated statements. It was one of the reasons why he was popular among the younger populace, his enthusiastic patriotism standing out amongst the line of dull politicians amongst the youngsters. Of course, in the office, it was usually just an annoyance.

“Despite the formal declaration of war, I say it is nothing but stupidity.” CNS Rakesh Bhatt tapped the smooth, polished wooden table. Like all the men in the room, he too was a rational and pragmatic, yet bold man, his presence alone enough to intimidate anyone not on his good side.

“I share the same view as Natrajan sahab. Sending crore rupee equipment to dispose cheap wooden boats?” Bhatt shook his head. “Not a good use of resources. Not when we need them the most for other important matters at hand.”

“We could send some planes to just bomb their capital. I don’t see any other option than properly asserting our superiority.”

“This isn’t Pakistan, Kulkarni ji. Of all things their leader is, he is certainly not within bombing range. Yet.” CNS Bhatt rebutted.

“Why? Hasn’t the new base at the newly captured island chain- what is it called-” DM Kulkarni pushed his hand to his chin, “Airbase Alpha, was it? Yes, so wasn’t it ready for operations a few weeks ago?”

CDS Bhandari leaned in with a small sigh. Explaining civilians like these the workings of a military force was always a pain, no matter how many times he did it.

“With all due respect sir, military logistics don’t work like that. Moving enough assets to be able to effectively engage in any kind of engagement is not easy. Not when all our assets had been stretched so far already. These newly added borders aren’t helping us any time soon.”

CDS Bhandari’s words were not without weight. The addition of new territories and the sudden and completely unexpected increase in the length of the Indian coastline had caught everyone off-guard. In the first place, the Indian military was expected to only defend and patrol the area surrounding the borders, as well as the Arabian Sea and the Bay of Bengal. Even then, it was short on both hands and machines for this. Neither the Western Command nor the Eastern Command of the Indian Navy had been prepared, then, for this new situation. The complete lack of the foreign military market that could have previously lent them a helping hand out of this predicament didn’t help either.

“Couldn’t we just send one of the Navy’s ships to deal with them? They are just a bloody bunch of monkeys with wooden boats, for God’s sake!”

Defence Minister Kulkarni loudly asserted. His rather loud, intimidating voice intimidated none present in the room.

“You are missing something important here, Kulkarni ji.”

CDS Bhandari spoke. Reaching for a file on the desk with one hand, he continued.

“Tell me, Kulkarni ji, do you know why we are at war immediately after arriving here on this planet?“

“Of course! Because they attacked us without any provocation first! We can’t just sit silent for long! Especially for a bunch of backward peasants with flashy wooden boats and sharp sticks!” DM Kulkarni retorted.

CDS Bhandari raised a finger. “That’s the thing, Kulkarni ji. Backward peasants with small wooden boats and some jaadu-tona decided to attack a crore-rupee guided missile destroyer. You see where I am getting at?”

DM Kulkarni opened his mouth to say something, yet whatever words he planned to fire were left helpless trapped inside. Certainly, if one saw it this way, it seemed odd. No one in their right mind would just go up and try to hit a modern navy destroyer in the right minds. And certainly not with wooden boats.

“Kulkarni ji,” NSA Manuviraj began, “For all we know, we might have looked like aliens to them. Scary, unknown, strange, and clearly very advanced. They have even cooked up some fancy names for us, I believe.”

“Demons, that’s what popped up from DIA.” CNS Bhatt poked his head in the conversation.

The NSA shrugged. “Too much to expect some illiterate village folks to come up with some fancy equivalent of an extraterrestrial guest.”

“This still does not explain one more thing.” DM Kulkarni leaned forward on his chair, adjusting his white kurta. “The things about the slavery and what not, and their oddly aggressive attitude towards us.”

CDS Bhandari shook his head. “You’re still making a big mistake here, Kulkarni ji.”

“And what would that be, Bhandari sahab?”

“Perspective, Kulkarni ji, perspective.” The CDS spoke, tapping one finger at his temple.

COAS Majumdar exhaled, then took the lead. “For all we know, sir, this world is a completely alien planet. It has things that defy our understanding of science and nature, if pointy-eared humanoids casting actual magic tricks is anything to go by. Think about it. Magic is not supposed to be real, yet here we are.”

He paused, letting the weight of his words sink in. Then he continued.

“If something as absurd and unexplainable as magic can be real here, what is the guarantee that their society or life wouldn’t be any less unexplainable too?”

The Defence Minister retorted again. “But how can we ignore all that in front of us? Those were very clearly innocent people that they had captured that we rescued! And there is no denying that they look clearly like, uh, those medieval Europeans!” The Minister paused a moment to think of a way to describe them. Clearly, his children had forced him to watch a lot of fantasy movies with him, and he probably didn’t like it.

“Kulkarni ji,” The CDS replied, “we aren’t children. We are soldiers. Precaution is paramount, especially in these times. We don’t know anything, and not knowing anything is perhaps the worst kind of scenario we would want to be in. So unless and until we find out what the whole thing is, we’re not going to do anything. Rest assured, if we find that they are indeed criminals guilty of doing things, we will see to it that they get the appropriate punishment.”

There was a short pause. Everyone had inwardly come to a silent agreement on the topic already, it seemed. Only the Defence Minister looked like the one out of the loop.

“I have a plan.”

The NSA spoke after a while, standing up from his seat. He turned to PM Desai.

“If I may, sir.”

The PM only nodded. Satisfied, NSA Manuviraj turned to the rest of the assembled people, as an employee distributed a file among the members present.

“Gentlemen, as you are aware, this is quite a predicament we find ourselves in. We don’t have enough resources to both defend the country’s territory and deal with this new ‘threat’ that we find ourselves in.”

He spoke as everyone went through the files, scanning each page with a serios expression.

“And while we know and acknowledge that the new ‘enemy’, is, for a lack of a better word, primitive, we have already seen that there are a million things that they possess that could hurt us, even if they seem crude.”

The NSA paused, and exhaled. He cast a glance at the Prime Minister, and continued.

“That is why, the Research and Analysis Wing, along with the Intelligence Bureau, has come up with a plan. A plan to scout, befriend, and analyse the locals. See if they actually are a threat, and if so, the best way to deal with them. Without using anything too expensive.”

NSA Manuviraj lifted a page from the file.

“We call it ‘Operation White Hand’.”

 

May 19^th, 1636, Feplan, Royal Castle, Feplaria, 10:00 A.M.

Heated discussions and banter filled the interior of the Royal Castle of Feplaria, the synonym of absolute power among the ranks of the powerful in the region. Courtiers dressed lavishly in various shades of purple and white talked among themselves, their white-bearded chins sometimes resting on their hands in contemplation. Stoic knights dressed in shiny silver and white armour stood, maintaining a stoic expression always hidden under their metallic visors.

The castle’s interior was large. High marble ceiling, large windows decorated with beautiful gold and silver floral patterns, large curtains of shiny, beautiful designs of various shades of purple, white and gold. Even the floor was not spared, a stunningly shiny floor adorned with beautiful marblework.

The very synonym of Feplarian supremacy. Absolutely excessive, serving little practical purpose. It was effective, however. Nothing spoke ‘powerful’ louder than the excess of it.

Under this lavish display of power and abundance, courtiers argued among themselves in a heated discussion. Their minds had already grown past the luxury around them. Right now, they seemed to be occupied only with whatever learned men would energetically amuse themselves with.

“Her Highness, Queen Yaereene has arrived!”

A palace guard announced loudly. All discussion ceased immediately.  Everyone got on their feet, stiff and their backs ramrod-straight.

Royal Guards marched through the large doors, their backs straight, the sound of heavy footsteps echoing all around. Each one marched with deft steps to his position, forming two lines of guards on either side of the long purple carpet. Each one ended the symphony of their footsteps with a loud, imposingly conclusion, turning around swiftly on one foot to face the carpet.

After brief, suffocating moment of silence, the Queen finally arrived. Flanked by more of the Elite Royal Guards, as well as some servants, the Queen’s imposing figure graced the vision of all those present in the court.

Her outfit was among one of the things that set her apart from all her contemporaries, if they could be considered powerful enough to call themselves her contemporary. A purple-white dress, with captivating designs of actual gold and silver embroidered with delicate craftsmanship. Her loose, white-coloured hair reached up to her waist, and carried with them a radiance most people that sight on her found to be captivating, regardless of whether or not they were aware of her sinister nature. Lustrous ornaments of silver adorned her head, as well her neck, their lustre creating a kind of divine halo around her head.

Queen Yaereene walked with confident steps to her rightful throne. In stark contrast to her attractive outer appearance, her face wore a permanent scowl. It was more than enough to establish the fact that she was no mere pretty maiden; she was a monarch, and a very dangerous at that.

Her eyes calmly ran over the various participants that had graced the court with their presence. Aristocrats of high standings, from various respectable houses across the lands she governed. The heads of the various vassals under her domain, most of them elves. Commanders of all the branches of the Feplarian forces, and finally the Divine High Elves, standing regally on an elevated platform built and dedicated especially for them. Everyone was here.

Queen Yaereene slowly sat down on the throne. Her movements were slow and deliberate, just like a predator. The onlookers had to be repeatedly reminded of their position, not directly, but rather by such indirect and subtle means. It was important to let them know, that everything they held dear, was at the mercy of the Queen. That she would not hesitate even a bit to have heads rolling on the floor if she felt like it.    

Yaereene raised one hand. Everyone bowed, then sat down on their respective seats, releasing some of the tension with a sigh. Only the High Elves seemed untouched by the Queen’s invisible pressure.

“Begin.”

One clear, loud, sharp word from the Queen’s lips. An old-looking dark elf clad in regal sailor outfit stood up. His large purple coat seemed much more regal, a hint to his importance in the Feplarian Navy. The dark elf turned to the assembled participants with a serious expression, and began.

“Proud dark elves of Feplaria, and proud servants of the Great Queen herself! Today you have been bestowed the honour of being summoned by the esteemed Her Highness herself! And for no frivolous reason either!”

The backs of all those being addressed tensed. The dark elf continued.

“Today, I, Commander of Her Majesty’s Proud Navy, Thalanil Chaeris, have been bestowed the opportunity to inform you all of a matter that requires that our utmost and immediate attention!”

He paused, letting his words settle in and catch the full attention of all present.

“A great calamity has arisen in the West, on the Edge of the World. A new foe, one that may be completely new and different to the disgusting humans that we are currently fighting in the East.”

Gasps could be heard among those present. While it was true that everyone was expecting some kind of emergency when they stepped in the court, being told that the emergency came all the way from literally the other side of the country, from the Edge of the World itself caught everyone off-guard.

“Esteemed Sire, what do you mean arose on the Edge of the World? Did it come from beyond it? Or from within?” A rather pragmatic, young dark elf asked. The last part was said with a bit of trepidation. Everyone knew it wouldn’t be very pleasant if it turned out to be the latter.

Commander Thalanil contemplated his answer for a moment before looking back at the expectant faces of the courtiers. Everyone was waiting with bated breath for his answer. Knowing where the threat came from was important. A threat from within, they could probably fathom and maybe handle, but a threat from beyond? There was supposed to be nothing beyond the Edge of the World, so the prospect of being invaded by something that probably defied the common logic of the dark elves was concerning, to say the least.

“Demons.”

The courtroom was at once, flooded with noise. Elves discussed amongst themselves in a heated discussion, clearly dumbfounded. Many were skeptical, thinking perhaps the sea or the old age had messed with the old man’s mind. Yet none dared to voice their remarks against someone backed by the Queen herself.

Others reasoned among themselves, trying to deduce what the Commander meant when he said the word ‘demons’. There were demons mentioned in the texts of the past, sure, but they had never been more than that. There were no prophecies or anything of the kind that even hinted at such a thing. One would think that these ‘demons’ just suddenly woke up one day and decided to attack whatever they saw. The High Elves weren’t unaffected from the announcement either, and were seen whispering among themselves quietly.

“I am well aware that this sounds incredulous, but I strongly request every elf present here to pay heed to my words!” Commander Thalanil spoke loudly, drawing the attention of everyone present. The courtroom regained most of its silence from before, and he had many gazes on him now. Many bore a million questions in them.

“Whatever was just mentioned here was not the result of some fool’s musings, rather directly from the esteemed Majesty’s Divine Messengers themselves!”

The courtroom became even noisier than before. The Divine Messenger Corps themselves reporting such an event deepened the mystery even more. For all everyone knew, they were indeed anything but fools who would do such a thing. Either that, or the High Elves’ magic had finally taken a toll on the Queen’s head.

It was no exaggeration that the Queen was indeed fascinated by the High Elves and their incredible magic. Her actions were loud enough to say that. Everything from the establishment of the Divine Messenger Corps to the High Elves’ Divine Artifact gifted to the Feplarian Navy, the results of the Queen’s fascination with their magic were everywhere.

“One of the proud elves serving under the Corps had dispatched a message saying they had been assailed by what they believed to be demons. Shortly after the message arrived, the island was lost to the demons!”

Gasps and exclamations resounded in the courtroom. If this was true, this would probably be the first time the Feplarians had lost a battle. Granted, it had been lost against ‘demons’ who just happened to pop up out of nowhere one day, but it didn’t change the fact that it still was a defeat. And the proud dark elves had trouble getting used to defeat.

“Lord Thalanil! We should rally our proud forces and take back our rightful land!”

“I find no fault with this argument. Reclaiming what is ours is the natural thing to do as proud dark elves!”

Heated statements floated in the air. Every dark elf in the room was riled up, ready to go to war. There seemed to be none in the courtroom that seemed to object.

“Silence!”

One call from Commander Thalanil was enough. Like a tide, the noise receded as quickly as it arrived. The attention of the all the listeners was on him again.

“We know little about these demons, first and foremost! We have little in the way of knowledge regarding this new foe, save from the accounts of the doomed Divine Messenger. The only other thing that seemed to confirm their existence,” Thalanil paused for a moment before continuing. This was probably going to upset many people, he knew. “is the disappearance of every ship that had embarked towards the Far West ever since the ill-fated night.”

Once again, the courtroom became noisy. Many wealthy aristocrats had heard about reports of ships under their domain or of their personal army disappearing shortly after being sent out to the Far West, never to be heard again from. It was problematic, even if the number of ships sent was not very high. Sailors were now reluctant to sail to the Far West, a place that had once been little more than something akin to a tranquil garden.

Commander Thalanil motioned to a servant, then turned to the Queen. The Queen looked at him indifferently, gracing him with the seemingly timeless frown on her face. She seemed not a bit perturbed by the proceedings of the world narrated by the Commander.

“I would humbly request Her Esteemed Majesty to grant this one permission to enlighten the members of today’s court, about the first-hand accounts of the valiant Divine Messenger.”

The Commander spoke as he crouched low on one knee. One servant deftly lined up alongside him, her eyes forever turned down, staring at the purple carpet.

“You have my permission. Proceed.”

The Queen’s lips slowly let out these low, yet seemingly very heavy words out. The Queen’s words seemed to always have an effect on everyone that listened to them. No matter how loud or quiet she spoke, they always seemed heavy and powerful, full of weight. One of the many things that set her apart from the others.

“I express my deepest gratitude, Your Majesty.”

Commander Thalanil spoke, then turned on his heel as he got up from his position. The servant held out a plate, on which rested a thick scroll. Thalanil took the scroll, and unfolded it.

“The situation here is not looking good. The entirety of the commander’s quarters suddenly erupted in large balls of flame, with excessively loud thunders. I have yet to see explosion magic this big. Wyverns are dead. I saw them getting burned by the same giant balls of fire. We don’t have any wyvern support anymore.”

Everyone’s expressions warped into frowns as the account of the doomed dark elf solider proceeded, narrated by the Commander Thalanil himself in a loud, booming voice.

“We don’t know what happened. All I hear is thunder and screams of dying and panicking elves. No one knows what just happened. Some brave officers are above, trying to rally the younger ones.”

Commander Thalanil paused. Taking a deep breath, he continued.

“There are flying demons around. They look strange. Nothing like the wyverns or dragons we know. Not even birds. They are large, have large fins resembling a fish more than a bird. They fly fast, and drop something from their bellies, probably eggs of some sort. Every time they do that, another one of the gigantic balls of flame erupt from the ground.”

The entire court was silent. Everyone wore a frown on their faces, a signal of the million emotions swirling in their heads. Some bore scepticism, others fear. More were deep in contemplation, trying in vain to make sense of the account.

“That was all I could make out of the demons before running inside. They seem to only be preying on those out in the open. Guess they are still beasts at the end. However, I am aware of the probability that this may not be the case for long, therefore I have put together this message with due haste. If no other messages are relayed from my side in the next three hours, I humbly request whoever may be reading this message, to please deliver all my savings to my mother and my wife living in Moralian. Glory to Feplaria, glory to Her Highness.”

Commander Thalanil finished, rolling the scroll and handing it back to the servant. His face wore a solemn expression, and his voice seemed slightly subdued.

A deafening silence prevailed in the court. Outside, the noises of the bustling city seemed to trickle in, quietly taking a backseat in the soundscape. The courtiers found it quite relieving, for the absolute silence would have become suffocating otherwise.

Queen Yaereene ran her cold gaze around. No one seemed to be wanting to open their mouths on the matter. She sighed inwardly. Moments like these reminded her that exerting too much power could sometimes be counter-productive. Too much pressure, and things would start to jam and clog up. A little respite became necessary, then.

“Commander Thalanil.”

The Commander immediately turned to her. “Yes, Your Majesty.”

“See to it that the Divine Messenger’s last request is honoured. You shall henceforth be responsible for ensuring his kin suffer from no material hardships of any kind whatsoever.”

“As Her Highness commands.”

Commander Thalanil bowed, then immediately took his leave. Queen Yaereene surveyed the room, noting the facial features of each and every elf present in the court. Her face bore the same expression from before, still unaffected by everything said or done. To many, the almost permanent frown on her face seemed to be the default expression she would assume normally. It had earned her the nickname of “The Scowling Beauty”.

Scanning the room, her eyes landed on one person. A rather old dark elf, sitting in a dignified, relaxed state, standing out from the majority due to his collected demeanour.

“Arc Mage Onas.”

The old man rose, and bowed. “How can this old man serve Her Esteemed Highness?”

“Enlighten me with your opinions on this matter.”

The old man looked at the Queen for a moment, then smiled. “I am afraid it is too early to make any sort of sound judgement, Your Highness. I am, however, interested in what the Holy High Elves have to say on this.”

Saying this, he turned around to look at where the High Elves were seated. The High Elves looked startled for a moment, clearly not expecting the discussion to be diverted towards them so early. They had however, expected the limelight to fall on them at some point in the meeting, and a suitable answer had been brewed already.

One of the High Elves, a fair, blonde elf clad in red-coloured embroidered robes, stood up, as other High Elves continued whispering amongst themselves. Something that would have otherwise been a breach of etiquette in the court had it not been for their position and the power they held.

“Your Holiness Horith.” Queen Yaereene observed the High Elf priest. A well-known figure in the political scene of the country, a name etched in the minds of every dark elf in the country. He and the High Elves’ “Divine Blessings” had been instrumental in the rise of the country to its current status. Without them, Feplaria wouldn’t have reached the peaks it now claims as its birthright.

Personally, the Queen wasn’t very fond of the High Elves. Something about them irked her. It was true that they gave Feplaria those “Divine Artifacts”, the cannons and the ‘radios’, things that had fascinated the Queen herself. Yet she could not find within herself to look up to the High Elves with the same level of reverence as all other Dark Elves did. Something about them simply irked her. She could never tell what, however.

“Quite an intriguing tale we have heard today, I must admit, Your Highness. I am unable to, however, doubt the authenticity of the valiant elf’s last message. May his soul rest in peace.”

Horith joined his hands in a short prayer, pretending to pray for the departed soul. His solemn outward appearance however, did a perfect job in denying any such thoughts that may arise in the minds of onlookers.

“Father Horith,” Queen Yaereene commanded. “What may your opinions be in regards to this grave affair?”

Horith contemplated. There was something concerning about the account of the diseased radio operator. Something only the High Elves had managed to notice. This needed to be looked into. Those artifact excavations could wait.

“I am afraid I cannot give an answer.”

Horith’s response stirred up the court. To see the Holy High Elves themselves be stumped by a problem seemed impossible in the eyes of the ordinary Dark Elf. Their ability to almost always magically have the solution to everything had elevated their status as ‘Divine’ in the eyes of the Dark Elves.

Queen Yaereene raised a hand. All noise ceased immediately. At once, pin-drop silence had returned to the court.

“Father Horith, may I know the truth behind your words?” Yaereene’s annoyance towards the High Elves would trickle in her words and action time and again. Enough to sometimes not restrain herself from using harsh words towards even the High Elves.

 Horith cleared his throat. They better pay me enough for this, he cursed inwardly before opening his mouth to speak.

“My words mean exactly as you have heard them, Your Highness. As of now, we cannot immediately give any answer. Though it must be understood, however,” Horith raised his voice slightly, using magic to enhance its range. “that it does not mean that we ourselves are ignorant as to how to deal with this new foe. It simply means we wish to avoid coming to a hasty and costly conclusion.”

Queen Yaereene looked at the priest with the same scary eyes as before. If she was satisfied with the answer, she didn’t let it show on her face.

“Understandable, Father Horith.” She began. “But I am afraid time is a costly luxury right now. A new foe has appeared on the horizon, a new obstacle to our collective dream of Elven Paradise. I hope you understand this, Father Horith.”

Horith’s brows wrinkled ever so slightly. He already had an inkling as to what it might be, and right now his mind was desperately praying that he was wrong and just making things up. Last thing he wanted was for them to start poking their noses in the area as well. Not that he was afraid of them or anything. He just hoped to not have his vacation cancelled.

“I am aware, Your Highness. That is why we refrain from being hasty here. After all, this is a very difficult dilemma indeed, one that requires thorough reasoning.”

Queen Yaereene glanced at Arc Mage Onas. The old man still wore the jovial smile on his face, as usual. She turned back to the High Elf priest.

“The future of Feplaria depends on your actions, Father Horith. Do keep in this mind, regardless of whatever conclusion you come to.”