Summoning America

February 16, 1640

Magicaregia, Annonrial Empire

Resurrection Management Agency Headquarters

“Damn it! Damn it all!” A light-winged man slammed a desk lamp into a wall, sending pieces scattering all over the floor and creating an unsightly gash along the wall itself. His wings flowed with luminous energy, glowing brighter. He smashed the desk beside him with his fist, a short shimmer emanating from his wings as he channeled magical energy to enhance his strength. “How?!” He bellowed, looking around the room with bloodshot eyes. 

The terrified employees dared not answer, for fear of inciting an undesirable reaction from their boss. 

The air around the man grew darker — literally — as an ominous shadow engulfed the edges of his frame. This demented aura contrasted well with his white robes, highlighting his rage. His crazed eyes eventually locked onto a single individual. He walked toward the unlucky soul, who was already visibly trembling. “You!” He pointed at the winged man dressed in brown robes. 

“Y-yes, Director Zamuras?” The poor man stood up, quivering in his boots. 

Zamuras clenched a mug, shattering it with his grip as he spoke. “Send word to Inferior Affairs and the AIA. Tell them that Director Zamuras is requesting a team of their best intelligence officers.”

“I will d-do that right away, sir!” The man bowed before quickly exiting the room, his heart pounding out of his chest. 

Zamuras unexpectedly swiveled around, pointing at yet another employee, “And you!”

The frightened woman, wearing beige robes, jumped in surprise. “Sir?” She managed to say.

“You’re in charge.” He then pointed at the debris strewn about the floor and the random employee’s broken desk. He lowered his voice, calming down. “Get this mess cleaned up and prepare a document of our budget and leave it in my office. Oh, and prepare my helicopter! I will review the documents when I return from Oranatha Castle.”

The woman nodded, internally sighing in relief before she got back to work. “Yes, sir. Alright people, you heard—”

Zamuras left the room, heading straight for the elevator. He telekinetically pushed the elevator button as he walked. A chime sounded as he arrived in front of the doors, which promptly opened. He entered, pressing a button corresponding to the highest floor. While he waited, soothing music written by Ravernal musicians thousands of years ago played. The magical piece had a calming effect on his mind, allowing him to disperse the anger stored within him. Another chime sounded, followed by the doors opening. 

Outside, a helicopter spun its blades, ready to take off. He approached the vehicle, a servant opening the door for him. As he stepped inside, he picked up a manacomm headset and gave the pilot orders. “Oranatha Castle,” he yelled over the sound of an engine and the buzzing blades outside. 

——

Oranatha Castle

Zamuras walked down a massive hallway, his footsteps echoing from the walls. At the end of the hallway stood a towering set of golden doors, guarded by a dozen Imperial Guardsmen holding rifles and a light-winged mage who wielded an arcane spear. As Zamuras approached them, all he could think about was seeing the glory of his homeland firsthand. Now, that dream was in jeopardy. 

“Director Zamuras,” the mage stepped forward, “What brings you here?”

Zamuras maintained his frown. “Captain Latharos, I bring bad news from overseas. I must inform His Holiness Emperor Zaratosthra immediately.”

The mage looked back, nodding at his men. Two guards placed their hands on circular engravings on each door, channeling energy into them. The engravings recognized their magical signatures, unlocking and opening by itself. Latharos and his men then stepped to the side. “After you,” he said, stretching his arm toward the chamber. 

Zamuras took a breath before entering, feeling a pang of guilt. Although his department logically could not have predicted the capture of the Calamique Beacon, he still harbored worries of receiving blame. Fighting off these dark thoughts, he stepped inside, followed by Latharos and some of his men. 

The throne room itself was a semicircle, with a straight wall behind the emperor. His throne was slightly elevated, with bright light coming from behind it, obscuring his face. Zamuras bowed down, unable to look at the emperor’s bright figure. 

“What have you brought for me, Director?” Zaratosthra’s voice boomed, seemingly coming from all directions at once. 

Zamuras kept his vision locked to the oricalchum floor. “Your Holiness, we have lost track of the beacon in the Enclosed Island.”

Several seconds of silence passed by, adding to Zamuras’ anxiety. Suddenly, he heard footsteps, followed by the closing of heavy doors. He looked up from the ground and turned around, finding that Latharos and his men left. 

“Continue,” Zaratosthra said, causing Zamuras to jolt upward.

“Your Holiness, the beacon disappeared from our Philadean sensor array. Before it left the range of our sensors, we noticed it heading toward the Enclosed Island’s south — toward the United States of America.”

“Hmph, I’ve been hearing that name more and more frequently…”

“Yes. It seems they have somehow stumbled upon our beacon. I would presume they are already in the process of studying it,” Zamuras said. 

“What an interesting turn of events,” Zaratosthra remarked. “Never would I have thought there existed a society advanced enough to even detect the signals of the ancestors, let alone find and capture a beacon,” he sighed. “What a coincidence that this happens mere weeks after the Mirishials’ visit. It looks like we must increase the urgency of your agency’s duties, yes?”

Zamuras smiled as he kept his head low. “Yes, yes of course, Your Holiness.”

Zaratosthra scoffed as he spoke about this unexpected failure. “The Americans were lucky enough to steal a beacon. They took advantage of our pride and ignorance of the world. This will not happen again,” he said, raising his voice slightly. “Director Zamuras, I expect that you will perform exceptionally when it comes to the retrieval of these beacons?”

“Of course, Your Holiness! I shall never let you down!”

“That’s what the previous directors said,” Zaratosthra muttered, his tone becoming sinister. “Thankfully, I now have a pureblood as Director.”

“And I thank you most gratefully for this opportunity, Your Holiness!”

Zaratosthra, becoming annoyed with Zamuras’ endless prostrating, decided to give him orders. “I will double your agency’s current budget. This should be more than enough to ensure the success of the Esperanto mission, as well as three new objectives: the final Vestal beacon, the Quila beacon, and the Gahara beacon. The Mirishials know of our origin, so you must prioritize secrecy in order to prevent them from realizing our true objectives and launching a preemptive strike. Currently, the return of our ancestors is estimated to be fifteen years from now. Should we retrieve the beacons, we may hasten this to a mere ten years. There will be no excuses for failure.”

“I understand, Your Holiness. My agency will accomplish these goals.” Zamuras paused, feeling nervous about asking a question. Hoping to dissuade the emperor from blaming him for something he had no control over, he gained the courage to continue, “Your Holiness, I have a question. What if the Americans beat us to the beacons?”

A brief silence swept the room before Emperor Zaratosthra answered, “If the beacons are gone by the time you arrive, then there is nothing we can do about it. However, if the beacons are still present on the island when you arrive, then there shall be no excuses.”

“I understand. I will not fail you.”

“Good. Now go, and fetch me Director Bachus. I must rearrange our policies toward the inferior outsiders.”

Zamuras stood up and bowed once more toward the shining light before taking his leave. 

——

Bushpaka Latan

In an unremarkable stone establishment reminiscent of the classical era, advanced technologies stood out from their surroundings. The only thing separating this building from others like it across the ‘uncivilized countries’ was the presence of an advanced manacomm tower, which was expertly disguised as a tree and could be further hidden via illusion magic. This tower allowed Bushpaka Latan to receive communications from the mainland and even broadcast messages to relay stations scattered throughout Elysia. 

Despite these capabilities, the facility was rarely used due to the Annonrial Empire’s disinterest in the affairs of outsiders. Only recently did it receive increased traffic, thanks to the activities of the Resurrection Management Agency and the Annonrial Inferior Affairs Department. A recent visit from the Holy Mirishial Empire, as well as an incursion from a Gra Valkan fleet, spurred much discussion on bringing the empire out of isolation. Eventually, Emperor Zaratosthra himself declared the awakening of his sleeping empire, bringing factories to full wartime capacity in preparation for war. With the return of the ancestors nearing, the emperor put all hands on deck in order to expedite their arrival. 

Karl Krunch represented one such hand. Having received advanced word from the Americans of their diplomatic visit, Ambassador Krunch was tasked with leading the investigation of their country. Due to their extreme isolationism, the Annonrials knew only what they could gather from the poor barbarian traders who went out of their way to visit Bushpaka Latan. So far, all they have heard of were rumors of homing light arrows, the fall of the two superpowers at the hands of summoned countries, and the increasing influence these countries grew to command. 

Krunch stood over a manacomm as he continued to listen to new orders from Director Bachus, scribbling on a notepad as he nodded. 

“... direct orders from His Holiness, Emperor Zaratosthra, himself. We were also informed that the Gra Valkas Empire has the potential to contend against the Holy Mirishial Empire and Mu,” a garbled voice spoke. 

Krunch creased his eyebrows in confusion, readying his pen. “Sorry, sir. This… Gra Valkas Empire, who are they again?”

“They are a nation to the west of the Second Civilized Region. Apparently, they felled Leifor with ease and are already staking claims throughout the continent. Tales from merchants confirm this, as does manacomm chatter from the Central continent. We also know that the Gra Valkans are expansionist, and analyses of their reconnaissance fleet’s wreckage shows that they are fairly advanced. I dare say their shipbuilding can challenge ours. Because of this, it is imperative that we stay out of any conflicts. Ideally, the Gra Valkans war with the Muans and Mirishials. Then, we strike when all sides are weak. Think upon these considerations as you converse with the Americans.”

“Sir, how shall I act toward the Americans?”

“These Americans are the most mysterious group. Homing light arrows and aircraft that travel faster than sound… these are technologies only our ancestors are supposed to have. Your primary objective is to discern whether or not these rumors have any merit to them. If they do, determine to what extent. It is possible they have uncovered ruins that we have been unable to scavenge, so their weapons may pose a threat to our regular forces. Once you have completed this objective, attempt to secure entry into their mainland. I, along with the AIA, have prepared a delegation of spies to uncover their mysteries.”

“Sir, your intelligence and cunning never ceases to amaze me. Shall I do anything with the sea monsters?”

The other line went silent for a bit, leading Krunch to wonder if Director Bachus had ceased communications. After a few moments, the manacomm crackled back to life. “Hmm… yes. Send several krakens after their ships. And send a leviathan as well; I would like to see how they fight. We had the unfortunate circumstance of forgetting cameras when the Gra Valkan fleet fought against our monsters. Ensure that we do not miss this fight.”

“Consider it a guarantee, sir.”

——

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