Summoning America

February 20, 1640

Bushpaka Latan

The lack of technology and people in Bushpaka Latan was a severe annoyance to many who were posted here to maintain the Annonrial facade. For a select few however, this lack of technology was a blessing; a haven of privacy, away from prying eyes. Tucked away in a corner of the Bushpaka Latan Inferior Affairs Office, two men spoke in hushed whispers. The secrecy of this meeting was so elevated that nothing escaped the room, save for particles of air flowing under the door and photons exiting through the window. 

Leaning over a simple, yet elegantly furnished wooden table, they quietly shared news with each other. 

One of them wore a simple buttoned shirt overplayed with turquoise robes. His black and white wings protruded from the back, resting along each side of his leather seat. “Bromson, are you certain that we’ll be selected?”

The winged man in velvet robes smiled, crossing his arms as he leaned back in his seat. “Yes, Zhenmann. I’ve ordered it myself.” 

“Now, of all times? Why use your authority now?”

Bromson’s gaze drifted up toward the window. He exhaled loudly before answering, “The Annonrial Empire has, since its founding, kept itself hidden from the outside world. At first, our ancestors did this to protect themselves from the vengeful oppressed. Outnumbered and cut off from supplies and industries necessary to reproduce weapons and ammo, we had no ability to fend off the angry masses.”

“Yes, I know all of this. That does not answer my question, though,” Zhenmann said, his wings fluttering slightly in impatience. 

“I’m getting there,” Bronson held out a hand. “After eons, we rediscovered what has long been lost. We regained our strength and grew it enough to be able to challenge the world and make them submit, just as our violent ancestors had. In fact, this undertaking was supposed to be carried out last year. After centuries of isolation, Emperor Zaratosthra finally wanted to unleash Annonrial might upon the masses, but this operation was pushed back after we detected inexplicable magical signatures across the world.”

“The appearances of the Gra Valkas Empire and the United States of America,” Zhenmann said, catching on. 

“Indeed. And recently, I’ve heard word of a rekindling of Zaratosthra’s ambitions. This time, however, he’s been extraordinarily cautious. I’ve used my authority to take advantage of this and investigate the reason why he’s playing it so safely,” Bromson explained his intentions with confidence. 

Zhenmann saw no worry in Bromson’s face, only satisfaction and determination. Despite this, his concerns were not alleviated. “Is this not in violation of our code? Participating in such a journey may arouse suspicion from your superiors!”

Bromson shrugged, his wings moving along with his shoulders. “There is always the risk of arousing suspicion, but Messiah has ordained it. I, too, felt that such a move was risky. Messiah explained the risk-reward of our mission, however. Should we succeed, we may not need to seize the throne ourselves.”

“Huh,” Zhenmann’s eyes sparkled with hope, but he fought against it, continuing to interrogate his colleague, “And should we fail?”

It seemed as if both of Bromson’s wings turned black while he thought of a response. He exuded a devastating aura of despair, evident by the creases developing under his eyes. “Then our movement may see its bitter end. Still,” he said, changing his tune to a more optimistic one, “After centuries of inability to act… we finally have our chance to achieve our goals. Making contact with these Americans, that is our one glimmer of hope. Hope for a brighter future for those of us with mixed heritage. Hope for those of us out in the world who were exiled, and their non-winged friends.”

Zhenmann nodded, smiling at the thought. “After so long…” he sighed peacefully, daydreaming of a future where his family no longer had to suffer under the brutal caste system of the mainland, which placed pure-blooded light-wingers at the top. “So, where do we start?”

——

USS Carl Vinson

US Navy Diplomatic Escort Fleet

Sounds unheard of for generations finally reintroduced themselves as sleek black RHIBs made their way toward the wooden docking platforms along the Annonrial shores. Their engines roared, cooling down into refined whirs as they reached the medieval-era port. The small boats were guided to a designated dock, drawing curious looks from other Elysians who had traveled to Bushpaka Latan to trade. The only people who remained nonchalant about the American arrival were the Annonrials themselves, who instead looked down on the magicless humans with neutrality at the best, and outright detestment at the worst. 

Several winged men helped the Americans up, providing ladders, as their docks were never meant for such short vessels. Marines and a group of Navy SEALs disembarked from the RHIBs, forming the escort of Heiden’s delegation. After the boats were secured, the delegation began their slow walk down the unusually wide, paved road.

Heiden gazed upon the sophistication of Bushpaka Latan; the layout, the materials that made up its streets and buildings. He felt a pang of disappointment on behalf of the rest of Elysia, recognizing that the so-called ‘civilized nations’ chose to ignore this technologically advanced threat, just so they could maintain their own images; just so they could maintain the status quo. Practicing blatant disregard for the safety of their people and choosing instead to sacrifice them for hubris and arrogance, the civilized nations paved the way for their own downfall. 

By a stroke of luck, or the literal will of a deity, the Elysians were saved from a demise of their own creation. The only thing standing between them and Ravernal reconquest was the United States, a glimmer of hope whose success now relied on Heiden and the information he can extract from the Annonrials. He went over various discussion topics in his mind while he walked, dismissing dirty looks from the locals. 

They soon approached the Annonrial Foreign Affairs building, a massive building inspired by classical architecture. Halted by Annonrial guards, Heiden’s escort was forced to remain. Meanwhile, the diplomats were guided past the steps and columns and into the main lobby, where they were surprised by a blast of cold air and electrical lighting.

Karl Krunch stood in the center of the room, his hands behind his back. “Welcome, Americans, to Bushpaka Latan. I am Ambassador Karl Krunch, primary intermediary between His Holiness’ government and all outsiders.”

“Pleasure to meet you, Ambassador Krunch. I’m Secretary Gordon Heiden, from the United States of America’s Department of State. I supervise all matters with regards to our foreign affairs,” he extended his hand for a shake. 

Krunch ignored it, instead speaking down upon the Americans, “I must say I’m quite surprised by your reactions. I didn’t think you would be so shocked by such basic technologies.”

Heiden pulled his hand back, hiding his annoyance at Krunch’s patronizing tone. He expertly fired back with class, “My apologies. We were under the impression that the Annonrials were a primitive society with no knowledge of advanced technologies. You must forgive us, but this is the information we received from the rest of the world.”

“Well,” the winged man said, putting more force in his words, “They are gravely mistaken.” He dropped the topic. “Come with me. We shall discuss in my office.”

Krunch’s large office was a stark contrast to the main lobby. It was furnished with a refrigerator, microwave, and an integrated radio-manacomm system. Instead of wooden furniture — as was present in the lobby — Krunch’s office was filled with high-quality fabric seats. “Have a seat,” he gestured to the Americans while he sat down. 

The Americans sat down. 

Krunch got straight to the point. “What brings you to Bushpaka Latan?”

Heiden responded, “The United States of America wishes to establish official relations with the Annonrial Empire, including the installation of mutual embassies and hopefully, agreements.”

Krunch held out a hand. “I believe you are progressing too quickly. My government has recently shed its isolationist policies. I cannot authorize anything past the opening of diplomatic channels between our nations. We also do not wish to dive into relations with a society we know almost nothing about.”

“In that case,” Heiden said, “I can offer a tour for an Annonrial delegation to the United States. I also have with me an educational video on my country and her people, along with informational packets for future review,” he gave a hand signal to Emily, who produced a laptop from a briefcase. She pulled it out and gave it to Heiden, who prepared the presentation while she handed a document to Krunch. 

The video was the same one shown to the other Elysian nations, albeit with slight modifications. Much like the other videos, this one explained basic details from American economic statistics to history leading up to the modern day. Having discovered that the Annonrials had access to guided missiles — as evidenced by their strike against the Gra Valkan reconnaissance fleet — the Department of State decided to integrate propaganda that showed American laser systems instantly destroying missiles in the air. 

Krunch did well to maintain his nonchalant behavior, eyes twitching slightly when he saw hundreds of cruise missiles wiped out by three destroyers. He peeled his eyes from the screen to analyze Heiden, who seemed to stare into his soul. The two then locked themselves in some sort of staring challenge, neither wanting to back down. “So,” Krunch said. “Why show us the capabilities of your military? These seem quite like state secrets,” he prodded Heiden for answers. 

Heiden answered truthfully, “We’ve already encountered two ignorant nations who have gone to war with us: the Lourian Kingdom and the Parpaldian Empire. We want to make sure that everyone we encounter is properly informed; we’re not very fond of wasting our time wiping out the ignorant aggressors that seem to dominate Elysia.”

Seeing nothing else to be gained from this line of questioning, Krunch moved on. “Then, if you have all this power, why not claim the world for yourselves?”

Heiden smirked, raising an eyebrow. “I could ask the same about you. For the United States, it goes against our morals to pillage and conquer, as the former Lourian Kingdom and Parpaldian Empire have. So then, why has the Annonrial Empire chosen to forego world domination?”

Thinking quickly, Krunch responded, “We saw their barbaric ways and wanted none of it, hence our isolation.”

“What changed?”

Sticking to the lie he developed, Krunch built upon it. “We noticed large fluctuations in magical energy, and wanted to investigate. Soon enough, our men returned with reports of a technologically advanced nation that preached equality and forced a superpower’s surrender within weeks.”

“Sounds familiar,” Heiden smiled. 

Krunch ignored the American’s attempt at humor. “Do you have any other concerns or topics you wish to discuss before we move on to scheduling our inspection of the United States?”

“Hmm, yes. There’s one thing I’d like to ask you about.” Heiden produced satellite photos taken of active Ravernal artifacts in Annonrial territory. “What do you know about these?” he pointed at a picture of several Pal Chimerae. 

Krunch wanted to gasp in shock upon seeing the images, but suppressed his feelings. Trying to disregard his incredulous surprise and curiosity on how these photos came to be in the first place, he answered Heiden’s question. “They are ancient structures left behind by the long-lost Ravernal Empire. Discussing any further details would be violations of conduct, so I’m afraid I can’t say much more. I assume that we aren’t the only ones to have excavated Ravernal ruins. Perhaps you can ask them?”

Heiden’s alarm bells rang immediately after Krunch referred to the Ravernals as such. Generally, Elysians referred to them as ‘Sorcerers’ or ‘The Ancient Sorcerous Empire’, due to their names being taboos. Krunch, on the other hand, instead said their name with a purported reverence, although his tone barely shifted. He noted this down for future reference before replying, “I understand. I’ll take that advice into consideration.” Seeing that Krunch likely wouldn’t talk anymore about the Ravernal artifacts, he put away the photographs. 

“Anything else?”

“We can move forward with the scheduling now, Ambassador.”

Krunch nodded. “In that case, my government can prepare a delegation as soon as tomorrow.”

“Excellent,” Heiden beamed. “I’m sure you’ll find the trip enlightening.”

Krunch feigned a polite smile, hiding traces of an evil grin under it. “Oh, yes, Mister Secretary. I’m sure it will be.”

——

Author’s Note: 

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